The old man's words stirred something within Rajaala's chest, an old urging. The military spirit that she had once been so proud of, that had lifted her to new heights of achievement and clarity of purpose, now dashed upon the hard stones that paved the road of history. Just for a moment it returned.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"He will not come to harm in this sacred ground. No one will. I hope I am understood."</span><br/><br/>Her reply was military and crisp.<br/><br/>"Yes sir, understood." She returned her blade to it's scabbard in one smooth and practiced motion. She then visibly balked at her own reaction, glancing at Daphnes, as he had named himself, with questioning horror, then at the others with disdainful arrogance, as if daring them to point it out on pain of severe maiming. She was in turmoil. Here was a chance to find purpose again, to find meaning in the armour she wore and the weapons she wielded. A chance to strike back at the enemies that had leveled her home in a true and organised way instead of the haphazard and opportunistic way she had done for the last hundred years. Meaning.<br/><br/>Yet it was not so easy. She would have to swallow her pride, work with a common mercenary, two Gorons, one little more than a debased animal, and an old man nearing the twilight of his life. Madness. Sheer madness. This Daphnes fellow had it right, she did think him mad. Absolutely so. And yet...<br/><br/>"Well, that was a lovely speech. Rehearsed it did you? Wonderful." The bite was back, strong as ever but you could tell her heart wasn't in it this time.<br/><br/>"If you want me, you've got me. Point me at Ganondorf and say when. He and I have some unfinished business to attend to. But he," she pointed at the Hylian named Dex,<br/><br/>"He stays where I can see him. And the Goron doesn't swing that club near me again. Non-negotiable terms, my friend. If you think you can meet them, I'll slay a legion for you."