After a few moments, Midna pulled away. “Alright, enough goofing around. We've got a job to do. What's on the table, Zant?”

Zant rose to his feet in an unnatural, fluid motion, as if he were suspended by strings. In reality, he employed his telekinesis, the same sort of magic that Midna had snared the tomato with on-stage. After brushing a thin layer of dust off the seat of his robe, he began. “Groose, you must join the ranks of people spreading the tale. Your reputation will convince people to listen; from there, you must convince them of Midna's existence. Hype it up, but do not flat-out ask people to convert to our cause. For now, the Twilight Princess is a legend. Once the idea has grown in the minds of the populace, we can begin to mold it. On your way.” Groose nodded, fixed his scarlet pompadour to an appropriately jaunty angle and jogged down the opposite path from where Gorko had come in. Speaking of the Goron, Zant turned to him next. “And you.. You must find a task for us to perform. If you cannot think of anything, check the public announcement boards near the entrance to the Castle. To carry forward the theme of strength, a dispute to settle or a monster to slay would be an ideal labor. Doing such a thing for the Hylians will aid us not only by rendering them a service but also by proving our capability. Go now, brother.” Seemingly pleased by his new assignment, Gorko hustled off after Groose in a very official manner.

Following that, the two Twili embarked down the original path alone. Midna led, and Zant -as ever- coasted smoothly in her wake. As they approached the street, the steady drone of rain grew louder until they emerged from the alleyway into the morning gloom. When the drops touched his head, Zant flinched irritably, and activated his magic. About two feet above his head, a two-dimensional platform composed of black particles interwoven by blue geometric patterns appeared, against which the rain splattered. Midna looked up at it, and nodded in appreciation. As she did so, her gaze fell upon the Happy Mask Salesman seated upon a barrel by the alley's entrance. It only took a moment to put two and two together. Zant followed her gaze and glared at the purple-clad merchant with luminous orange eyes. A look passed between them before Midna spoke. “Good morning, sir,” she intoned melodiously. “You strike me as a pensive individual. What is on your mind?”