Chapter Text
In those days, in those most ancient days,
In the lands we now know as Hyrule,
There was a Kingdom which straddled the
Western Uplands, shielded above the
Sheikah society which sprawled the lower
Country below them. In those uplands,
Between Lake Tanagar and the Regencia,
From Lake Ilumeni to the foot of Drena,
The city of Maritta was the Queen.
In that country finds our story its beginning,
With the Herald of the Era of the Goddess.
In those days, youths trained to be warriors
Under the watchful wardenship of the
Elders of Maritta. So renowned were
Those spear-wielders, those sword-swingers,
That even the Sheikah, who looked down on
The Marittian people as backwards and
Foreign, would recruit noble warriors from
Among the Marittians to serve in their elites.
One such youth was Harkinian, son of
Gaebura. For years, Harkinian trained
With Tutors to become a noble warrior,
Proving himself and making a name for
Himself among the class. At the end of his
Training, it was evenly matched as to who
Was the best among his class of warriors:
Bell the Mighty, whose brute strength was
Unmatched by any, or Harkinian.
As they were the finest warriors of their class,
They were called upon to demonstrate their
Skills, which they had honed in their time.
Harkinian slapped the shaft of his training-spear
Against the rim of his wooden shield.
"Come at me!" he said, raising both.
Bell, brutish and burly, broadened his stance,
And charged him quite fiercely. "Argh!"
He roared as he leapt forward to attack,
With wooden sword held firmly in his
Deftly dextrous digits; He raised the sword
Above his head and swung it down.
Harkinian stepped with hare's hurried haste
To the side, foiling the ferocious fiend's
Charge. He slapped Bell upon the back
with the flat side of the Spear. "Aha!"
"You announce each move before you
Commit it," said he, preparing to strike.
"Do I, then?" said the beastly Bell,
As he found again his footing as though
He had forseen his foil afore. "Hah!"
He swung his sword, sweeping the stance
Of his agile agitator. "Fall, you fiend!"
Harkinian leapt up, and tried to clear
The swing of the wooden sword.
His effort in vain — from below him
His legs were swept, and into the dirt
And the dust did he descend. "Ough!"
From his very lungs the wind was taken.
The victor was clear; Harkinian it was not.
"An excellent display," proclaimed their Tutor,
Stepping forward into the earthen ring and
Clapping his hands. "Both of you."
"Once again," boasted Bell, "I have shown
My might, my martial prowess, and my
Fortitude." He threw his training sword
To the dirt and the dust in his fervour.
Harkinian lay in place on the ground,
Catching his breath and the deadly
Drop. Their classmates clapped briefly,
With some groaning at Bell's boasting.
The Tutor extended Harkinian a hand.
The youth took the hand and pulled
Himself up by it. He brushed the
Dust and the dirt from his tunic
And lifted his spear up from the ground.
The Tutor then turned to the class again.
"I hope you all have well beheld the
Bravery and boldness brought forth to
Bear by our finest students. Both
Bell and Harkinian are soon to leave
The fold of our flock to face probation
To become warriors of Great Maritta."
Bell puffed out his chest and pounded
Upon it. "I wish to be the very best, like
No-one ever was — and this my test shall be.
I shall be Maritta's greatest warrior,
And my legend shall be known long after
I have returned to the earth that gave
Birth to our Ancestors so long ago."
Pendat, a first year student and novice
Among the warriors to be, stepped forth.
"We know of the fervour which boils in
Bell," she said. "But tell you us —
Harkinian, what is the red thread of
Your destiny? Where lies the Heart of the
Warrior?" the young warrior enquired.
Harkinian did not speak right away, for he
Had to think. "Duty," he spoke.