The morning after the Chieftain's Trial, Queen Riju awoke to the unfamiliar feeling of victory. She stretched, her sore muscles a pleasant reminder of the hard-fought duel. She was the champion, confirmed by combat, accepted by her people. She was the Queen of the Gerudo. The day, she decided, would be spent in the training yards, sparring with Captain Teela and enjoying the spoils of her success.
Her pleasant daydream was shattered by the ceremonial striking of a gong outside her chambers. The door slid open to reveal Captain Buliara, her face as stern and unyielding as a canyon wall at midday. Flanking her were two scribes, their arms laden with heavy scrolls.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," Buliara said, her voice devoid of any celebration. "Congratulations on your victory yesterday. You have a full schedule today. We begin in one hour with the quarterly review of the city's grain dispensary ledgers, followed by a mediation session between the master armorers and the jewel-cutters regarding resource allocation. After lunch, the Goron ambassador is expecting your final proposal on the bomb-flower tariffs."
Riju stared, her triumphant mood deflating like a popped balloon. "The ledgers? But I just won the Trial! By tradition, don't I get a day of feasting or… or something?"
"The city feasted in your honor last night, Your Majesty," Buliara stated flatly. "The city's grain supply, however, does not run on tradition. It runs on accurate accounting. Please prepare yourself."
An hour later, a thoroughly miserable-looking Riju was being escorted down a grand hallway toward the council chambers. She shuffled her feet, her royal vestments feeling like a cage. She was a warrior, a wielder of lightning, the Queen of the Desert. And she was about to spend her morning arguing about the price of barley.
As they passed a junction, Riju saw her chance. A detachment of guards, their shift over, was marching out of a side corridor, their armor clanking. At the same moment, the patrol that was replacing them was marching in. For a few seconds, the hallway was a chaos of red sashes and gleaming polearms.
"Oh, my!" Riju exclaimed, pointing at a decorative wall sconce. "Is that… flickering?" She sent a tiny, invisible spark of her own lightning towards it. The sconce sputtered and went out with a pop, plunging the immediate area into shadow.
"A power surge! Secure the Queen!" Buliara commanded.
But in the moment of confusion, the Queen was already gone. Riju had ducked behind the throng of guards, deftly snatched a discarded helmet from a hook, and fallen into step with the patrol marching out of the palace and towards the barracks. The helmet was comically large, covering her eyes, but she marched with a determined confidence. Freedom was just a few steps away.
She had made it almost to the exit when a tall, armored figure simply stepped in front of her, blocking the path. It was Buliara, her arms crossed, an unimpressed look on her face.
"An admirable use of a tactical diversion, Your Majesty," the captain said, her voice dry. "Your grasp of strategic misdirection is improving." She plucked the oversized helmet from Riju's head. "Now, I believe the weavers' guild has a formal complaint about the rising cost of silk they wished for you to hear."
A defeated groan echoed through the hallway.
Later that day, Riju found herself trapped in the promised meeting, a seemingly endless debate about trade tariffs. The Goron ambassador, a large and incredibly verbose Goron elder, was explaining the geological reasons for a recent decline in bomb-flower yields, complete with hand-drawn diagrams. Riju's eyes had glazed over. She was idly tracing patterns on the arm of her throne when she noticed it: a faint outline behind a heavy, sand-worn tapestry depicting the Seven Heroines. A servant's passage.
She waited until the ambassador had unrolled a particularly large and complex map of a mining shaft. "All this talk of geology is making my throat dry," she declared, faking a small cough. "Could I trouble you for some cool water?"
As Buliara and the other attendants turned to a servant to fulfill the request, Riju moved. She slipped from her throne, darted behind the heavy tapestry, and vanished into the dark, narrow passage behind it.
"Guards! Seal the east wing!" Buliara's furious, but weary, command echoed behind her as Riju sprinted through the palace's hidden network. She knew these passages better than anyone, her secret escape routes from a lifetime of avoiding tutors and lessons. She navigated the darkness with the ease of a desert fox, her goal the palace kitchens, and from there, the servant's exit.
She almost made it. She emerged into the bustling, steamy chaos of the kitchens, grabbed an empty tray and a few melons as a disguise, and walked with as much purpose as she could muster towards the exit. She pushed the door open into the blinding sunlight of a back alleyway and ran straight into a solid wall of green-and-gold armor.
She looked up into the amused, knowing face of Captain Teela. The warrior she had defeated in the Trial looked down at her queen, who was attempting to hide her face behind a large melon.
"Losing your way to the throne room again, my Queen?" Teela asked, a wide grin spreading across her face.
Riju's shoulders slumped in defeat.
That evening, a pouting and thoroughly cornered Riju was in her private chambers, with Buliara standing guard at the only exit. The comedy of the day's chases had faded, leaving a tense silence in its wake.
Buliara's stern expression finally softened. She sighed, a sound of deep, genuine weariness. "This is not a game, Riju," she said, her voice losing its formal edge. "Do you think I enjoy chasing my queen through the palace like she is a disobedient child?"
She walked to the balcony, looking out over the city as the twin moons began to rise. "Our main well is a foot lower than it was last year. The monster attacks on the northern trade route have cut off our supply of Hylian steel. The weavers are afraid, the merchants are angry, and our people look to their queen for strength, for guidance."
She turned back to Riju, her eyes full of a fierce, protective loyalty. "To be a queen is not to win one glorious fight in an arena. It is to win a thousand silent, boring victories every single day. It is to win the future for our people with every tedious ledger and every difficult negotiation. That is the fight your mother fought. It is the fight the Champion Urbosa fought. And it is the fight we need you to lead now."
Riju looked down, the weight of it all pressing on her. "What if I'm not good enough?" she whispered, the defiant child gone, replaced by a scared twelve-year-old. "What if I make the wrong choice? I'm not my mother."
"No, you are not," Buliara said softly. "You are Queen Riju. And you will not be alone."
A fragile understanding seemed to pass between them. Riju took a deep breath, her shoulders straightening. "Fine," she said, a hint of her old fire returning. "Let's go talk to the Goron. But if he unrolls that map of the mine again, I'm leaving."
Buliara allowed herself a small, relieved smile. She escorted her queen from the chambers, down the grand hall towards the ambassador's guest quarters. They walked in a newfound, respectful silence.
As they passed the palace's main gate, Riju saw a squad of young Gerudo warriors, their faces bright with excitement, preparing to head out on a night patrol. She heard their easy laughter, saw the freedom in their eyes. The call of the open desert, of a simpler life, was a siren song.
"You know, Buliara," Riju said, a sudden, mischievous grin spreading across her face. "You're right. A queen must understand her people's concerns firsthand. And our guards' greatest concern is the safety of the perimeter."
Before Buliara's horrified eyes could even widen, Riju slammed her palm onto the sandstone floor. A powerful jolt of lightning, far more than a simple spark, coursed through her body. With a burst of impossible, super-charged speed, she shot past the stunned guards at the gate, vaulted over a tethering post, and landed perfectly on the back of a sleeping sand-seal. The creature, startled awake, shot off into the desert like an arrow.
The last thing anyone heard was the triumphant, echoing laughter of their queen as she sped off into the moonlit dunes.
Buliara stood at the gate, her hand covering her face in utter exasperation. Behind her, the Goron ambassador finally arrived, looking confused.
"Am I… late for our meeting?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling.
Buliara let out a long, slow, and deeply suffering sigh. "No, Ambassador," she said, not looking at him. "You are, as always, perfectly on time. The Queen, however, is not."