Kingdom of Power, of Courage, and of Wisdom

The King's War - Orders

"The First Emperor of the Qin was a son of King Zhuangxiang of Qin. When King Zhuangxiang was a hostage for the state of Qin in Zhao, he happened to see a concubine belonging to Lu Buwei. Pleased with her, he took her for himself and she bore the First Emperor. He was born in Handan in the first month of the forty-eight year of King Zhaoxiang of Qin (259BC). At his birth he was given the personal name Zheng; his family name was Zhao (or Ying)." - Records of the Grand Historian

-Kanyou, Country of Qin-

The day was bright and colorful. King Xiang was on his death bed. The birds sang. The people mourned. The land was ravaged by war and loss while the prince eagerly waited for what would become his.

Impa stood by him, always vigilant, ever silent. The king gasped softly, and though the doctors worked vigilantly, the agent knew the shade of death when she witnessed it.

The people kindled torches and mourned in open anguish in the streets, for the king was mysterious and rumored to represent a god among men. Not right, of course, but an isolated monarch gains and encourages many myths. The prince- the heir. He did not mourn. What scared Impa to her core wasn't how he did not cry, but rather the glee the prince had as he observed his father's difficult breathing and pale complexion.

Impa left when the time was appropriate, but couldn't ignore the hunger in the prince's eyes. The anticipation. She had seen the same look in the eyes of another king before the purge. She had witnessed him grow up, and the thought that this brat would be king sent chills down her spine. This child was never denied a desire.

Impa tried calming herself. She paced the royal gardens, called for a harpist, even sparred with her clan. Nothing appeased the fear that festered in her gut.

The generals were indifferent, the council looked on the youthful prince as an opportunity they could exploit, and the prince, most of all, looked forward to the rod changing hands. Corruption and power-grabbing were all there was in the capital anymore. They were all too short-sighted to recognize what it was causing.

If the kingdom of Qin became weak and rotted from the inside, Impa could say goodbye to her nation and the millions that called it home.

When sleep provided no comfort, Impa rose and sought a venue that might offer her something, a place she had not entered in years.

Impa entered the temple. After exchanging short pleasantries with the nightly caretaker, she offered a donation and requested to be left alone. The temple sparkled. The floor was polished marble, the red rug leading from the door to the pedestal was clean and without a stain. The windows emitted an almost holy ray of light from the moon that made the statue of the three Goddesses glow.

Time wasn't a factor here. Dust and decay and rot would not approach the domain of the Goddesses.

Impa bowed before the statues. "Nayru, Din, Farore," she prayed. "Qin is in jeopardy. No! All of Hyrule or what exists of Hyrule is in jeopardy. War ravages the countryside. Where once was a grand nation that reached to the ocean, there are now seven. For five hundred years, there has been constant war. Thousands die every day. Peace is a lie, a mere illusion in our lives now. The monarchs last mere years, and even now, the king dies."

Impa paused, realizing there were tears in her eyes, but she also felt better. "I fear what will happen when the heir assumes the throne. The king, bless him, is a gentle soul and is a good man, but is a coward, foolish and weak. The king does not possess the wisdom to know what to do, the power to do it, nor the courage to even try. The prince is spoiled and will think nothing of letting the kingdom crumble so long as he feasts!"