D R I F T E R
On a Quest to Become True Heroes
The Drifter's eyes narrowed when the circumstances of the guard became clear. So the man had fought off pursuers--and killed them. His own brothers in arms. So the divide between the King and Queen had truly become so great? As the distant sounds of water sloshing and slapping against stone walls echoed all around them, the somber ambiance of the aqueducts became all the more sinister. The Zora Priestess spoke next, though the wanderer could hear the strain and breathlessness. Perhaps one could find fortune here--she still held onto the hope of a world where something like this could not happen. How much sweeter, that naivety, than the blood-stained truth they must now withstand.
"Why? Why would Guardsman turn on their own?" She shook her head, but the Drifter never took his eyes off the sight before them. "How anyone can justify slaying their own aside, how can they turn their backs on the Royal bloodline? Do they not understand that King Rolo is not-"
"In training, he is their scholar." spoke the traveler. "At the feast, their father. In their ranks, their brother. And in battle, the god they pray to save their souls." Drifter looked away from the carnage now, his eyes not quite cold but bearing a hard and harsh truth as he looked at the Zora. "Royal Blood or not, King Rolo is the man who led them to victory and sheltered them in defeat. His soldiers will not understand defiance of his will any more than you understand this pointless waste of life."
The splashing became more disturbed, yet it carried a sense of rhythm. Footsteps. The Drifter sharply turned this way and that, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He sniffed the air like a hunting hound.
"Do you hear that?" The priestess stepped to the side, looking through the door and out into the poorly lit room beyond. "If we intend to go, we should do so immediately. We are not alone and the door has ensured we will be discovered." She shot a worried glance to the rest of the group before turning her gaze to the Drifter, who now seemed to be taking in the other details of the chamber along the walls and the ceiling. "I am sorry for doubting you. It is clear that we have all been called upon to protect the bloodline of Hylia."
"I'm not offended by your good sense, my lady." He gave her a roguish smile after her apology. Then he looked down at the water they would have to wade through in order to reach the true castle entrance. The rain must have caused the water level in the tunnels to rise--rather inconvenient, for one's escape tunnel to be vulnerable to the whims of weather. But to cross the stream now would alert their enemies just as the sounds the enemy made alerted them. The Zora turned back to the doorway.
"This is our only chance to avoid bloodshed. To run and fight only as necessary."
"Just don't forget your last word, there. The final resort cannot be the unemployed resort." The Drifter himself had just advocated stealth and the least amount of violence possible. But in the end he held no illusions. He wished it would not come to such. But if it did, he wished only that it be short-lived.
"Can your magics part the waters, that we may pass silently and unimpeded?" he asked the Zora Priestess. He thought he had a trick of his own that could get him across, but it would leave the Zora and the Lady Knight behind. It might be wiser to ask first..
