To understand the board upon which the young hero now walks, we must turn our gaze back. Back three weeks, to a time when Link's solitary journey had just begun, when his footprints were still fresh on the road leading away from the Faron Woods. It was then, in the heart of a kingdom gripped by a quiet, unspoken fear, that the leaders of the realm gathered for a council that would change the fate of Hyrule forever.
The Great Hall of Hyrule Castle had been sealed. The air within was thick with the weight of five hundred years of fragile peace and simmering resentment. At the great, circular table of ancient Hylian oak sat the four great powers. King Rhoam, looking small and weary on his ornate throne, presided over the gathering. To his right sat the Goron Patriarch, Daruk II, an ancient and massive being whose silence was as heavy and as formidable as Death Mountain itself. Across from him sat the Zora Queen, Rutela a figure of serene, otherworldly grace, her movements as fluid as the water her people commanded.
And directly opposite the King, holding the gazes of the two other leaders with a fiery, unblinking confidence that belied her twelve years, was Queen Riju of the Gerudo, flanked by her imposing Captain, Buliara. Her presence was a sharp, tactical intrusion into a council whose ancient pacts had rarely, if ever, included her people.
King Rhoam rose, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of his words. He spoke of the blight of despair that had fallen upon his own people, the "Great Silence" as the forest spirits called it. He spoke of unnatural beasts, of entire villages of Hylians vanishing, of a coordinated, intelligent shadow that moved with a purpose his own compromised Royal Guard could not seem to track.
"The ancient pacts demand that we stand together in the face of such a threat," the King concluded, his gaze sweeping over the proud, wary faces before him. "I ask you not as your King, but as your ally. I ask for a unified front. A single, great army of Hyrule, drawn from all our peoples, to meet this darkness and drive it back into the abyss from whence it came."
The silence that followed his plea was a testament to its impossibility.
The Goron Patriarch was the first to speak, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "The mountain protects its own, King of the Hylians. Your fields are weak. Your roads are undefended. You ask my brothers to shed their blood to protect your soft lands, while our own forges grow cold and our own tunnels must be guarded. This is not an alliance. This is a levy."
Queen Rutela's response was more diplomatic, but no less firm. "The Zora's Domain is a place of water and life. The sickness you speak of is a blight of the land. We grieve for your people, but our magic is one of healing and purity, not of open warfare far from our sacred rivers. What you ask for would leave our own home undefended."
Finally, Riju spoke, her young voice as sharp and as clear as shattering glass. "The Gerudo have survived a thousand years of the desert's cruelty and Hylian suspicion without the aid of a king's army. Now, when your own house is on fire, you ask for our warriors to be your water-carriers." She leaned forward, her amber eyes blazing. "You speak of a shadow, but we see only a weakened King. Convince us, Your Majesty, that this alliance is not simply a leash for you to place around our necks."
The council was a failure before it had even truly begun. The old wounds were too deep, the mistrust too ingrained. The pillars of the realm would stand alone, and they would fall alone.
It was then that the jackal revealed himself in the lion's den.
Chancellor Valerius, the King's most trusted and senior advisor, stepped forward. His face was a mask of deep, patriotic concern. His voice was smooth, reasonable, and full of a profound wisdom that the King himself now seemed to lack.
"Perhaps His Majesty, in his urgency, has asked for too much, too soon," Valerius said, his tone calming and respectful. "A full military alliance is a complex matter, and you are right to be cautious. The old bonds must be re-forged before they can bear such a weight."
The leaders listened, their attention captured by his reasonable tone.
"But a gesture of unity is needed," the Chancellor continued, his voice weaving a web of impeccable logic. "A symbol to show this shadow that we are not divided. I propose a compromise. Let each of you send not an army, but a champion. A single, elite warrior, the very best you have to offer. They will come to the capital and form a new, unified Council Guard. They will act as the King's personal protectors and will coordinate the intelligence from all our lands. It is a first, small, and honorable step towards rebuilding the trust we have lost."
The proposal was brilliant. It was a perfect, poisonous lie. To the leaders, it seemed a reasonable compromise. It allowed them to show solidarity without committing their forces, to gain intelligence on the King's situation while keeping their own warriors at home.
The Goron Patriarch, after a long, stony silence, agreed. The Zora Queen, seeing the logic, assented. Riju, though her sharp instincts told her that any plan this perfectly reasonable was likely a trap, was outmaneuvered. To refuse now would be to seem dishonorable and fearful, something no Gerudo Queen could ever afford. She too, gave her curt, reluctant agreement.
The council was concluded. The leaders would depart and send their champions to the capital within the fortnight. A great victory for unity, it would seem.
Later that night, Chancellor Valerius stood in his lavish, private chambers. He was not alone. He stood before a large, dark scrying mirror, its surface swirling with a familiar, sickly purple smoke. From its depths, the new, monstrous form of Asmodeus regarded him.
"The lions have been brought into the cage, my lord," Valerius said with a low, respectful bow, his face now stripped of all pretense, revealing only a cold, cruel ambition. "Their greatest champions will soon be in the capital, away from their homes, under my direct observation. We can dispose of them at our leisure."
A low, layered, and satisfied chuckle echoed from the mirror. "Excellent, Chancellor. The Master will be pleased." Asmodeus's voice was a ruinous, grating sound. "With their champions gone, their people will be headless, confused. The Sand Palace will have no one of true power left to defend it when the next Blood Moon rises."
The image in the mirror faded, leaving Valerius alone in the darkness, a triumphant, terrible smile on his face. The Council of Unity had been a perfect success. Not for the King, but for his shadow.