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The knight swiftly opened the front door of the cozy home. The sun was still low in the sky of Castle Town. Inside, his wife was already up and finishing preparing breakfast with the old nursemaid, Sacha. As soon as he noticed the concerned frown on their faces, his worry worsened.
"He's back." He said. Emma - his wife - slowly nodded.
"He's in his bedroom." She said.
His eyes slowly moved to the stairs. There was no sound coming from the second floor.
"Allan and Derek are already gone," Emma said. "Captain Fiztback ordered them at their post earlier than usual."
"Alright," he said, unable to completely hide the excitement in his voice.
Emma went closer and slowly put a hand on his chest plate, her eyebrow slightly raised in an attempt to calm him down.
"Be soft, William, please." She said, almost scolding him. "It seems to have been a rough trial for him."
"He was more than ready for it," he answered with a dark scowl. However, he slowly climbed the stairs, taking some time to find back his calm. Remembering the last three years of tergiversating, he went down the small corridor and stopped in front of his son’s door. It was slightly opened, no light could be seen inside the room.
He pushed the door silently. The curtains were still covering the small window and only a dim ray of morning light was finding its way inside. William's eyes followed the light and he fought against his curiosity when he saw the shape of the sword on the desk softly gleaming with the sunlight. The banality of the image struck him. The legendary Sword was laying almost carelessly on the desk and the young hero was on the bed, turning his back to it. Like a discarded weapon after a long, exhausting battle.
He could see the boy’s eyes were opened, staring blankly at the wall facing him. William couldn't see any sign he was hurt. However, he knew his son for a while now. He trained with him, pushed him to his limits more than once, and could witness signs of weariness and fatigue in him.
"How do you feel?" William inquired, keeping his voice neutral.
"Drained." Link answered back. His father was surprised by such an honest answer. Though his son was never lying, he wasn’t the transparent kind either. Especially when it was about how he felt.
It implied a lot but William knew very well he wouldn't have more from his son about that. The only fact Link was lying in his bed in the middle of the day was enough.
"Nothing that couldn't be resolved with rest?" He pushed. He wasn't worried for Link, not really. He wanted to assess his condition to manage the next days. For more than two years now, his son was a knight and he held a position in the army under one of his friend's commands. If Link was to be out of duty for more than a day, William would have to justify this extended absence.
Of course, finally claiming the legendary Master Sword would be a good reason.
"I will be back to my post by tomorrow, father." Link answered, the tone of his voice was now the one of a soldier addressing his superior.
"Very well then. I'll inform Captain Ibert." William said. He could tell easily Link was in no mood to talk and he had no doubt the feat of drawing the Sword had been taxing on him. So he just turned back and walked to the door. He stopped in the doorway and slightly looked upon his shoulder. Link has rolled on his back, his head slightly turned towards the Sword, silent and somewhat attentive. As if he was listening to a voice that only he could hear.
"Link?"
"Yes, dad?"
"Congratulation on your achievement, I know it hasn’t been easy," William said without turning back to him. He couldn't face his son now. Not with this well-known guilt slowly filling him again. For the same reason, he didn't leave time for Link to answer and left.
Link slept for many hours after that without waking up. He had the sensation he hasn’t slept for years so much he was exhausted. His being was entirely drained from energy, physical and emotional. In the past two years, he has been warned many times by the Sword that the trial would be difficult and would require all of his will and his strength. Because of that, he never underestimated the importance or the difficulty of the challenge he would have to face. For many years, he was genuinely afraid to face this trial. Accepting to face it took him time because it meant so many things for him, for his future, and for the kingdom.
He opened his eyes slowly, gradually aware of the stiffness in every part of his body. It felt as if he had fought a week-long non-stop battle with no weapons and no armor.
He wasn't feeling the same as before. In his consciousness, he could feel something that wasn't there before. It was as if someone was behind him, watching silently and staying out of his reach. And in so many other ways, he felt as if he was finally complete as if something about him was amiss since the beginning and was now fixed. He was recollected, whole and somehow he felt his spirit was connected to something greater and larger than himself.
Breathing slowly, he closed his eyes again, concentrating on the here and now to avoid this awkward sensation of being astray, beyond his own timeline.
After some minutes, he succeeded in centering himself enough and slowly stood up. He ran a hand in his messy hair and adjusted his old tunic.
He went downstairs and sat at the kitchen table. Emma wasn’t there but she left some bread and cheese for him with a small bowl of figs. Even if he was tired, he was hungry, as always. He finished his meal quickly, too quickly, and realized his stomach wasn’t ready for it. He was sick the minute after as he was walking outside in the small backyard of the house.
His gut twisted as he knelt there in the grass, his eyes fixed on what was once his meal. He was shivering and his hands were shaking.
“Hey Link.” said a voice behind him. “Are you alright?”
His brother, Cedrik, put his hand on his shoulder with a concerned look. Cedrik was three years older than him and he always cared a lot.
“... I guess.” Link answered vaguely.
Cedrik helped him stand and they both sat on an old wooden bench in a corner of the backyard, under a tall oak. Link was staring blankly in front of him, blinking from time to time. The presence of the Sword was overwhelming, extremely invasive. He could feel it wasn’t ill-intended towards him. Perhaps it just needed to adjust to him as he needed to adjust to it.
You’re the same as always and yet, not entirely. This life, like all the others before, changed your being.
“Brand is inside, he wanted to bring you a blanket,” Cedrik said, fiddling with a corner of his military tunic. “He’s very, very excited, as you can surely guess.”
Link succeeded at smiling slightly. Cedrik sighed at his side.
“Before he comes, I just wanted to say that I’m very sorry you have to bear this burden, brother.”
It’s not the first time.
It has to be me, I am the only one able to do it.
My duty in this world is to bear this burden.
An oath was taken, long ago. It’s tied to my soul and, like it, it cannot be broken.
He shook his head to push away the images, the voices. He knew they were memories of a long past. Memories that were his, and at the same time, not his.
He heard the door open and he saw his younger brother walking to them, holding a wool blanket in his small arms. Brand climbed on the bench at his right and, now standing, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He hesitated a second, wanting to sit on Link’s lap as he always did but not wanting to bother him at this moment. Link quickly saw the silent request and helped his brother climb on his lap.
Brandon was trying to remain quiet but he was fidgeting on his lap. Link felt amused by his little brother's behavior. He knew how much Brandon wanted to see the Sword. He was only eight years old but he was fascinated by the legend. When Brandon was around five, he was already reading books about the past Heroes and the Master Sword. Tales meant to teach courage to children. Link didn’t tell him about his destiny until one year ago since it would have been difficult to live with a young excited brother when he was himself still avoiding his duty.
“You can go look if you want, you know,” he said to Brandon.
The boy shook his head and suddenly looked very shy.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Link asked with a smile.
“Yes! Please, Link, please!”
Link nodded, put his brother up, and stood too. Even if Brandon would have wanted to literally run to the bedroom, Link walked slowly. His body couldn’t go faster. Brandon remained quiet at his brother’s side until they reached the door of the room.
Link pushed the curtain to make some light in the room. Brandon has stopped in the doorway, hesitating.
“What’s wrong, Bran?” Link asked.
“Well… Should I introduce myself?”
Link eyes went to the Sword and then back to Brandon. Good question, in fact, he thought. But then, as soon as he thought he hadn’t the answer, the answer was there. As if another part of him was completing his knowledge.
Link knew he would not agree to show the Sword that way to everybody who was asking, not even the rest of the family. He surely would have this request a lot in the future but showing the Sword as in display felt wrong to him. It was a weapon, true. But it was also a sacred relic, forged by the Goddess Herself. It deserved respect.
Brandon was a child, and a true, pure soul. It was different. So, he took the Sword in its scabbard and unsheathed it slowly, hearing the gasp of his brother. Then he sit on his bed and moved the weapon so it would lay in his open hands.
There were two characteristics about the Sword that one familiar with weapons could observe and easily tell it wasn’t just that, a weapon. First, is the smell. It was very light and could easily be dismissed but Link was very familiar with the smell and it was in fact the most crystallized memory in his soul about the Sword. It was close to static electricity during a thunderstorm in summer, just after lightning struck.
The second characteristic was the way the blade was reflecting light. It looked as if the Sword was filled with inner light and not reflecting anything in its environment. It was impossible to see a reflection in the blade either, the inner hue was always dancing every time the Sword moved as if a fine film of glowing liquid was covering it.
Once Link was settled, Brandon slowly moved closer, his eyes widely opened with awe and disbelief. He stopped near his brother but made no move to touch the Sword. He kept his eyes on it all the time. And then, very naturally, he spoke. “Hi, I’m Brandon, I’m Link’s brother. I don’t covet you.”
Link frowned with amusement. “Why do you say that?”
“It is written in the legends that the Master Sword doesn’t like to be coveted.” Brandon said firmly, almost chiding Link for not knowing such an obvious thing.
“Alright, alright.” Link said.
“Don’t you know that?” Brandon asked, now suspicious.
“Actually, I do, Bran. But it just means that someone who covets the Master Sword couldn’t possess it if he would try to take it.”
“I just want it to like me and not be afraid of me. Afraid that I would try to take it, I mean.” Brandon said.
“I understand.” Link said, just to humor him.
However, Brandon was not completely wrong. A moment ago, Link was thinking about the fact that he was comfortable displaying the Sword in front of his young brother. Was it really because of his age?
He has a true, pure soul. That was the reason why Link was allowing his brother to see it. Perhaps the desires of the Sword and his own were synced in a protective circle so the Sword would remain away from coveting hands. At this moment, Link could feel the Sword was at peace and not at all disturbed by the presence of the boy. He knew, from past knowledge, that this wasn’t often true. Even when in Link’s possession, even when he was close to it or holding it, the Sword was often coveted by strangers or by individuals acquitted to him. During those moments, Link could feel the Sword discomfort almost as if it was his own. Coveting the Master Sword meant selfishness, cowardice, arrogance, or jealousy in a heart and a no go for the Sacred Blade.
Brandon was very quiet for some minutes, observing very carefully the weapon from every angle.
“Is it heavy?” he asked in a whisper as if he didn’t want to disturb the Sword with his mundane questions.
“Considering the length, no. At least, less than a conventional sword of the same size.”
“Do you need to sharpen it?”
“Yes, it’s a blade, Bran.”
“It’s a magic blade,” Brandon said with a frown.
“Well, even a magic blade needs a whetstone from time to time.”
“Use a new one.”
“Why?”
“Because! Link, if you use an old whetstone on it, it’s going to pollute it with some random old sword.” Brandon said as if it was obvious.
Link grinned. “Alright. I promise I will use a brand new whetstone.”