#aco thread

The Church was one of the most secure structures in Hyrule, patrolled by guards on the outside and in, and guarded only more heavily after that day's chaos. The entrance to the chapel itself was monitored and few were ever permitted to travel past it, let alone into the room of one of the Golden Goddess's vessels. Guards and other eyes lined the narrow halls, and so much as reaching the door without the proper permission was nothing short of unthinkable.

Considering that, it was very fortunate that the young Oracle was in the habit of leaving her window open.

The guards on the perimeter would have been a minor obstacle for a fully trained Sheikah, but at Zelda's--no, Evyr, he had to become used to calling himself Evyr--skill level, by the time the window was in sight the sun had long, long since left the sky. He knew how to step quietly, knew how to avoid others' eyes, Impa had taught that much long ago, but sneaking around the castle halls in a nightdress and invading the church grounds in the dead of night were clearly very different endeavors.

However long it took him, he managed, and even accomplished something halfway resembling grace as he slipped through the open window and onto the sill. The Sheikah novice was feeling quite proud of himself right up until he straightened up and introduced the back of his skull to the frame of the window with a rather resounding thud.

It took him a moment to rectify the fact that he was very suddenly upside down on the floor, and as his vision slowly stopped consisting of stars he registered a figure with a head of deep red hair now sitting upright in her bed.

The Garo Warriors' spy network was truly something to be applauded, for the very reason that only a select few would ever know to do so. They were a perfect secret, the very name of Garo relegated to a lost legend to the scholarly and even less to everyone else. None ever identified a Garo unless the Garo in question wished it, and they worked very, very hard to keep it that way.

Thus, sneaking into public places was not something the spies ever made a habit of.

Contacts like these were easily the most difficult part of the nameless one's position, but given the situation the Sage editor had found himself in, it had been deemed a necessary risk. The second such 'necessary risk' within the week for the spies, in fact--escalating tensions never made their jobs any easier.

In through the nearest access point (a narrow window), find out if there's unmonitored ground (there was hardly any room under the floorboards, but the rafters were high and dark), get as close to the target as possible (right over the knight's bed seemed close until one factored in the 15 foot exposed drop, and the only walls to speak of were curtains), proceed with caution (pieces of furniture cast such lovely shadows against the outside wall in the dead of night).

It regarded Kieron from the foot of the bed for a moment before acting, for it hated waking people up. Even those who knew the Garo as allies usually yelled. Could it still make a throat-clearing noise? Never a better time to try.

It came out sounding more like a choked rasp (which was somewhat the standard for anything the spy said), but it served. Loud enough to wake Kieron, not nearly loud enough to alert anyone else.

It waited for the knight's wakefulness and attention before speaking, examining him coolly with lit green eyes and inclining its head ever so slightly.

By all appearances, the King's plan was working beautifully.

His daughter had clearly come to her senses, the sudden loss of the Oracle of Ages and the addition of the diamond-studded silver band on her third finger having sobered what had evidently been the rebellious spirit of a naive youth. She had become more withdrawn for now, it was true, but with the death of the Oracle of her patron goddess, that was only to be expected. Her marriage and the family that was sure to follow would make a respectable young royal out of her yet, so said the whisperings of nobles and maids when they believed (as they often did) that the Princess wasn't listening.

The narrative suited her quite well. A convenient lie, laced with only just enough truth to hold it together.

She hadn't needed to feign the pallor that swept over her face when she heard of Oracle Nayru's death. "The Goddess could not bear to keep her child in a land so full of sin." She knew the lie for what it was even without the help her ancestor's voices offered.

This time, the lie wasn't the dangerous part. The thinly veiled truth of it was another matter entirely.

When she withdrew, she did so into the library, as anyone who knew Zelda even vaguely might have guessed she would. The palace's archive was massive, a sprawling maze of every subject imaginable, in which the lights were dim and all of the shelves (unless one kept careful track) looked virtually the same. It was in a different place she settled every time, and each time it took the frustrated guards a little bit longer to find the (always apologetic) new bride. But she was always there, as she was now always expected to be.

If ever she did elect to disappear, there would be no reason to believe it hadn't been into the library, as she always did.

Oracle Din's telephone line was disconnected. The red Goddess's vessel was one of her only two allies, the second after Impa who had been foolish enough to bow to the Princess in favor of the King. Zelda had no intention of letting her be the first to die for it. She had only to wait for the guards to stop bothering to look for her.

The sun was still low in the sky the day after the hectic celebration and subsequent arrests, the shadows stretched over the Eastern District's streets retreating inch by inch as it rose. Despite the waking of the day, the city had been reluctant to follow suit. The diligently marching armed soldiers (and no doubt abundant hangovers) had kept most shut away in their homes as the morning drifted on.

Mercifully, it also wasn't raining. Considering that fact that thus far the red Oracle saw fit to follow every Hyrulean incident with a downpour, the Garo warriors had begun to fear she'd turn it into a pattern.

This time, the unnamed one's fellows had informed it, it seemed she had far more pressing concerns, and the Garo had much to do.

The Salesman hadn't ventured to look into the alley as he strode by, but it was doubtful he'd miss the gloved hand that caught his sleeve and tugged his attention away from whatever thoughts he'd been previously entertaining. The Garo would have vanished by the time he looked over, but the dim alleyway was the trademark invitation of a race that couldn't abide being seen--or bothering to set appointments. As he'd met with the spy before, the human would no doubt know what being summoned looked like.

The unnamed one's thin frame stood silently at the alley's far end, every inch of it eerily still, without even breath to ruffle its robes as it waited for Haeyin to approach.

"Whho elsse knowsss of the Oracle'ss deathhh?"