Heavy Is the Crown- Chapter 10
For two weeks Ardin had worked the kids at the castle like military recruits, carefully selecting defense techniques to teach them that were known to have all kinds of flaws. He didn't tell them that, of course, no. But Bowser was a special case, due to his size and keen wit. He was instructed separately and shown effective styles and forms. Ardin had promised to do a job here for Godash, but the wily old turtle hadn't said anything about how to handle the big boy.
The disguised toadstool man was enjoying a private bath in his rented quarters, scrubbing nearly a week's worth of grime since he'd last fully removed his disguise. Rinsing off felt sublime, and he stood clean and naked as the day he was born after toweling off, just enjoying his native skin for a minute.
Yet on he went with the rituals of painting and sticking, pulling on his disguise as he had before. His thoughts drifted as he prepared to meet Meechum, Prince Nurik's Captain o'the Guard. The yellow tribe koopa had been unusually amiable toward him for the last few days, and had been hanging around during his one-on-one training sessions with Bowser, watching from the spectator seats in the training room, offering Bowser the occasional tip. Not that the boy needed much help; he had within him a quiet fury that made him a quick learner of the combative arts.
Set against the right foe, Bowser could kill plenty of grown men without a weapon in hand.
Yet the koopa youth kept it mostly under control, a veneer of icy detachment keeping him from exploding in random violence. The boy spent a good deal of his free time now at the castle smithy's forge, working on some kind of machine of his own design. He wouldn't tell Ardin what it was, though he suspected the boy had shared this secret with Meechum.
Things were not what they seemed with that kid, and Ardin knew it.
For the time being, however, he could only count the days until the time came to strike. He sincerely hoped that when it did, Bowser Entem wasn't close at hand.
Meechum directed the koopa workmen hauling the wagon back around to the open-air forge in back of the smithy's, the sentient iron ore glimmering in the pre-dawn light. He clapped young Bowser on the shoulder, the boy yawning widely and sipping his juice. "I hope you realize that there's another visit coming tomorrow from Prince Tangerine, son," the yellow paratroopa half-whispered. "Whatever works you do this day must be kept hidden from he and his retinue."
"Is the Prince really going to sue for peace," Bowser asked.
"Yes. It's what he believes is best, though the Emperor is furious with him for doing so. There are troops in the Tegal Swamps right now, though nobody will claim them."
"They belong to Godash," Bowser said plainly, as if this were common knowledge. Meechum flinched; he could sense that Bowser was dead certain of what he'd said. "He wants a war. The only thing I don't understand is, why? What does he get out of it?" Meechum watched as Bowser used a pair of tongs to remove a clump of the sentient iron from the back of the wagon and hold it out over the forge flames. The metal hummed, as if it found the heat pleasant.
"I cannot say for certain, young master, and frankly, no 9-year-old boy should be thinking about such matters, no matter how far beyond his years he seems," the Captain o'the Guard replied. "Any ro', is that the mold you were talking about," he asked, pointing to an oblong, hinged metal casing set by the forge.
"It is." Bowser brought the heated metal out of the fire and set it in a heat-absorbing sluice, which would feed down a chute and into the mold's opening on top. "These will fire from my cannons. I've completed four of them thus far. If they get approved by His Majesty the Prince, the weapons factory will produce a hundred next month. But these parts require a personal touch."
"Why are you doing this, Bowser," Meechum asked. It was a question he'd been holding back for weeks now. Bowser looked up at him calmly and sighed.
"Because as much as I want personal revenge, I have to take my country's safety and capabilities to heart. If war should break out, these will give us an edge. I only hope war doesn't come, somehow. The Princess at least seems nice, after all. Will she be with the retinue again?"
"Yes," said Meechum. "Though I suspect it will be the last time she sets foot in the Empire. I have heard it said that the Mushroom King is furious with Tangerine for having her with him in such tense circumstances."
"Hmm. I'll have to make as much conversation as possible, then. Thank you, Meechum." Bowser turned his attention back to his work, watching as the melted iron ran down into the mold, steepling his fingers. Meechum stuck around long enough for Bowser to set the mold in a cold bath, cooling the metal within so it would hold its form.
They soon heard something moving within the mold, and Bowser cracked it open, revealing an oblong lump of metal with two angry eyes and tiny, pudgy little fists cocked against its sides. The young koopa picked it up and held it out, marveling at his creation. "Meechum," said Bowser in a hushed rasp, "I want you to meet Bullet Bill."
Ben Godash felt his eye twitching as he regarded the calendar. The day was coming quickly, and it would be such a glorious one-two combination that he found himself giddier than a small child waiting for Christmas morning. There developed a spring in his step, and he found himself ever capable of making cutting retorts during dialogue with his senior advisors. The Emperor surely had to have taken notice.
And when the hobgoblin trainer had been sent to Prince Nurik, why, there seemed to have been a mistake made in the reports, and Second Advisor Limkin was able to take the credit for this wise move. The Emperor knew nothing of the mistake, and Limkin had been swift in claiming credit, rubbing Godash's nose in it in private. As far as anybody knew, Limkin was a wise man with foresight.
And you'll be laughing right up until the Emperor orders you hanged, Godash thought, pulling on his robes of office. And once you're gone, well, it's just Grennet and I, and he has no capacity for the politics of warfare. Soon enough, I alone shall have the Emperor's ear!
And it would all be accomplished with a singular act, one which would not only get the ball rolling, but which would kill two birds with one stone. Godash felt invincible, godly, infallible, and he let those good vibes flow out from him. Of course, he'd never let on why he felt so good, no. Doing that might see him at the gallows.
He had only but to wait a few more days.
Bowser hopped over the sweep kick and whipped his tail around, knocking Maybrick aside. It was the first solid blow he'd landed since they began sparring a few days earlier, and the force of that strike made him feel wonderful.
The follow-up reflexive block felt even better. The hobgoblin lunged upright with an uppercut, but even as he began moving, Bowser turned around and angled his hard spiked shell by rolling back onto his rear end. The result was a thud, followed by a grunt and the trickle-spatter of blood.
When Bowser turned around, he could see Maybrick holding his injured hand close. He appeared to have cut open his knuckles and the back of his hand down to his wrist on one of Bowser's spikes. The koopa youth felt a momentary fear, but quickly dismissed it. After all, injuries happened in practice.
"I'll fetch the healer," Bowser said, taking to heel. He asked several staff where the healer, a green koopa named Velis, could be found. By the time he found the fellow in the castle's library and made his way back to the training room, Maybrick was gone. Somehow, he'd managed to leave no blood trail behind him.
Bowser chalked this up to another mystery about James Maybrick, adding to the list Meechum had begun. The Captain o'the Guard had secretly gone to Hyrule, and discovered no trace of Maybrick among the hobgoblin tribes. Neither had the goblins or orcs of the kingdom known of the man, and when Meechum managed to track down the warlock Gannondorf, that frightening worthy had merely laughed at his inquiries and used a spell to cast Meechum all the way back to the border.
Bowser knew Meechum would never steer him wrong or lie to him, especially about outsiders. This hobgoblin had secrets, and Bowser didn't think any of them would turn out to be good for those within the castle. He loved the Prince for his honesty and his peaceful, trusting nature, but for everyone's sake, he hoped Nurik hadn't been a fool to let the Hyrule native into his castle.
That evening, after once more discussing the coming meeting between Prince Nurik and Prince Tangerine with his fellow Advisors, Godash ambled happily to his apartment within the Heavenly Palace, nodding to servants as he passed. All he'd planned for would soon begin.
He could have contented himself to instruct the assassin to kill Cassandra Entem and thus orphan the mutant child of Luther, sure, but that would have been a terrible waste of a key asset. No, what he had in mind now was far more satisfying, and aimed directly at his ultimate goal of becoming second in the Empire only to its ruler, the Emperor himself.
Sharing tribe with the Emperor, unlike his senior Advisors, would also give him more sway when making decrees in the Emperor's name. The caste system established so long ago worked perfectly for his benefit. It has always been within my grasp. I merely need to slap Destiny around a little, but it eventually will see things my way.
Yes, no lack of confidence there. When he entered his den, Godash threw the four locks on his front door into place and secured the breakage trap he maintained for extra protection. Limkin had been especially venomous with him at the Advisors' nightly meeting, and Godash had thrown a few choice barbs at him in return. It simply wouldn't do to be awakened by one of Limkin's thugs for a beating to remind him of his place. Hence the axe on its pulley.
Godash removed his outermost robe and draped it over the back of a chair, shrugging his shoulders, rotating his arms widely. He wasn't a young koopa anymore, or even a middle-aged one if he was honest with himself. Yet his devotion to the pursuit of power and influence had brought him here, and soon it would put him beside the throne.
"But first, there is war to be declared," he said to himself, heading for his private kitchen.