Heavy Is the Crown- Chapter 16

Bowser sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He would be turning fifteen the following morning. Almost three years had passed since he and Prince Renoit had shared an evening of explanations and initial planning. The intervening time had seen Dulaha married, the war ground down to a tense and momentary truce, Bowser relocated to Renoit's castle in the Third Magistrate, and a funeral at which Bowser, for the first time in years, had allowed himself tears. Moxy and Trim, two years older than him, had been conscripted and killed on the front lines shortly after his fourteenth birthday.

Of Doko he knew nothing. He assumed the mutant goomba to be trying to eke out a living in the seventh, as his parents had before him. Willow and Rompus remained with him, guardians with a constant eye to his safety. They were brought into the Shadow and made into agents, personally trained by Renoit. The result had been frightening even to Bowser.

Despite many victories, the Empire had been unable to push more than a few hundred miles into the Mushroom Kingdom. The treasury claimed to be hemmoraging money constantly, and friction between different divisions in the army caused problems as well.

Major Edward Meechum had succesfully laid siege to Prince Tangerine's keep, and the Crown Prince was said to be locked away in the dungeons of one of the Empire's castles, though nobody would say which one. Immediately following the capture, Meechum had requested a transfer to Prince Renoit's commission, which was quickly granted.

Meechum had been as a close uncle to Bowser since his arrival, and the mutant koopa, now towering over all when he stood, had felt his constant anger abate some. He was still irritable, prone to violent outbursts, but he had Meechum, Willow, Rompus and Prince Renoit all at his side, advocates for the boy genius whose inventions had provided for their military success.

There were no other children at Renoit's castle, and thus no reason for a conscription officer to come snooping around. Even if one came, Renoit was prepared to issue a decree of exemption, and Meechum had prepared an argument stating that the Empire's great engineer should not be risked on the front lines. It would take the Emperor himself to tear Bowser away from the castle until he wanted to leave.

Bowser quickly showered and readied himself for the day. His thoughts turned toward Ardin, the toadstool assassin. It would be well known that Bowser had been staying with Prince Renoit, even by non-locals. He'd been the subject of several news stories during the last year of the war, so he wouldn't be able to reach out to Ardin himself.

But Ardin was a freelancer, not just an assassin. He would infiltrate and retrieve, if the price was right. Using his connections as Prince, Renoit had arranged for a meeting with Princess Peach and her personal guard. Since Tangerine's capture, she'd been forced to act as representative during audiences and conferences during the cease-fire.

While at his castle, Renoit would make an excuse to leave the room, which would give Bowser the chance to reintroduce himself to her. He would try to play on their previous brief friendship and convince her to contact the assassin to retrieve her brother from Renoit's dungeons. When the toadstool arrived, he would be in for a rude awakening and some hard questions.

The meeting would be held the day after Bowser's birthday.

Bowser decided he didn't want to work on anything that day, so he went down to the workshop Renoit had commissioned for him and his crew and put up his 'No Work Today' sign on the doors. Alejandro, the only workman to make the move to Renoit's castle with him, gave a hoot and holler when he showed up in his kart from the village nearby.

"I'm still getting paid for today's work, right," he asked Bowser.

"Of course. This was my decision, not yours," Bowser replied. Alejandro took off with a smile, bound for home. When Bowser returned to the keep proper, Mason, Renoit's chief of staff, stood just inside the kitchen doorway, waiting for Bowser. A tall, narrow red tribe koopa with pale skin, Mason wore a near-permanent frown, which he turned up at Bowser as the huge koopa walked by. "Mason."

"Master Bowser," Mason replied, pronouncing it 'mawster'. "It occurs to me that your birthday is tomorrow."

"Yup. Funny thing about those, they come around every year."

"How pleasantly droll, sir. Have you arrived at any decision regarding your birthday meal?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I'd like one."

"Smashing. What would you like to be included?"

"Food."

"Sir."

"Fine, fine," Bowser said with a sigh and a grin. "I'd like some of Mrs. Pettigrew's meatloaf, those cheddar mashed potatoes she makes, and some of those cherry danishes you bake. Oh, and throw in some kind of green vegetable as well, so long as it isn't brussel sprouts."

"Very good sir," Mason said, moving toward the larder. "Coffee?"

"Please." Bowser headed out into the dining chamber, where various plates and bowls of breakfast foods already sat steaming in readiness. Mason poured him a mug of coffee and handed him a plate so he could pick and choose what he wanted. "Mason, has the paper come yet?" Rather than answer, the servant koopa produced it from a nearby cabinet ledge. "Thank you."

As Bowser got halfway through his first article, Prince Renoit and Meechum bustled in, engaged in some heated discussion. Meechum was saying, "-hadn't been for that, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"I will concede your point, but you know the exchange had to be done," Renoit countered, taking his seat at the head of the table. He wasn't his usual self, calm and collected, soft spoken. To Bowser's ear, he sounded rattled and annoyed. "We'll just have to adjust the language."

"What's going on," Bowser finally asked. Both older koopas, men for whom Bowser had an eternal place in his heart, looked down awkwardly, as if afraid to meet the eyes of a koopa still a day from official adulthood. That did not bode well. "Meechum?"

"The Emperor agreed to release Tangerine in exchange for the release of Grand Magus Wunderweiss," Meechum said softly. "I'm sorry, Bowser."

"Don't be," Bowser replied quickly, which brought both men's heads up, faces blank. Bowser sipped his coffee and shook his head slightly. "Unless you can tell me that you were personally responsible for the Empire's Grand Magus being captured by human spies of the Mushroom Kingdom because he got drunk with the wrong crowd, leading to the loss of our sole means of countering the Kingdom's most powerful magics, then you have nothing to apologize for. Now, can either of you say that?" They shook their heads. "Okay, then. It's just a bump in the road. I'd still like to see Peach again."

Renoit agreed that a meet would still be good to calm tensions, and perhaps move the two nations further from restarting the war in earnest. Meechum departed then, off to make sure the arrangements were kept. Renoit ate slowly, quietly. At one point he asked, "Why do you still want to see the Princess, my young friend?"

"Because she and I have met briefly a couple of times before," said Bowser. "I am of no caste rank here, Highness. It will be very good, I believe, if the people of our Empire see that such a lowly subject as mysef can gain the attention of the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom." A serpent's smile slithered across Renoit's face.

"You're quite bright for someone who claims not to listen to his tutors about political science lessons," Renoit said.

"I haven't been. The tutors you've had in have advocated I pay the political process no attention because of my caste. I've been reading Douard's books on the subject, in yourlibrary." Bowser finished his coffee and shook his mug at Mason. "One more, Mason, and then I think I'd like to see the report Bly put together on the Recruitment Officer who's on his way here." Renoit began chuckling, and together they shared one more drink.

When the Recruitment Officer left the castle the following morning, Meechum checked his watch. "Twenty-seven minutes," he said with a laugh. "It only took twenty-seven minutes for him to run that man out of this castle, Highness, and he's a third my age." Prince Renoit, feet up on the desk in his private office on the castle's third floor, grinned and nodded, tossing a rubber ball up and catching it repeatedly.

"He's learned a great deal since coming here," Renoit said. "But he still talks of vengeance against Godash." He held the ball, looked away. "My people in the capital say the Advisor came back from his trip looking younger, stronger than he has in years. Do you suppose," he began, letting the question hang in the air unasked.

"Yes. I think he has the money for it," said Meechum. "The man's never been one for extravagence. He lives in the Heavenly Palace free of charge, dines in the mess in the building, rarely goes on trips. When he does, he either camps out or stays in cheap little dives. He could've been saving for years to afford a few treatments, even before becoming an Advisor."

"If he gets those, then our recommended plan for our young friend will become invalid," Renoit said. "He can't just wait for Godash to die if he's able to keep extending his lifespan."

"Well, let's not tell him just yet," Meechum said. "Let him enjoy these next few days." And so Renoit agreed, though the master of the Shadow didn't forsee the blow being softened by a few days' wait. Yet Meechum was right, he knew. Best to let Bowser have a few good days.

The library of Prince Renoit's castle, unlike those in most of his brothers' keeps, was only single-storied, contained no children's literature, and had a reading nook that was arranged more for academic study and notation than relaxed reading. It was an efficient design with all the charm of a soldier who's just pushed a bayonet into dozens of bodies after battle to ensure his commanding officers that the enemy is, in fact, dead.

Despite this lack of decoration or frill, the library was still where Bowser went to do his deepest thinking, and to write in his journal and do his studies. Renoit had an entire two shelves dedicated to Douard's writings, of which Bowser constantly availed himself. There were only a few that he hadn't re-read, and these were Douard's personal memoires. Bowser had nothing against such material, but something had made him uneasy, uncomfortable, when reading them.

Sitting in the library in silence, a copy of 'The Legend of Pacman' open before him, Bowser looked off, unseeing, into the quiet rows of bookshelves. It feels like peeping, he thought quite suddenly. Like spying on one of my idols. It just seems, wrong. While he had come to be fond of Meechum, Willow, Rompus and Renoit as a surrogate family, the truth was he admired Douard in a way that bordered on hero worship.

"I'll just have to push that aside," he said, grabbing one of his pens from his carry bag and winging it lightly up and over a bookcase in a lazy arc. He heard someone grunt and smiled to himself. "You're getting sloppy, Francois. I heard you adjust your footing five minutes ago." A koopa clad in dark green tunics came slinking out of his hiding spot and approached the table.

"That obvious," Francois asked, sitting across the table from Bowser.

"Wouldn't have been for the average mark. Then again, I'm not the average mark. It's my birthday, you know," Bowser said, marking his spot in his book and closing it. "There's going to be a splendid brunch in a few minutes." He stood up, headed over to Douard's dedicated case, and plucked out one of the memoires, tucking it under his arm with the Pacman book. "You should come to the dining chamber, enjoy some company. You know, socialize."

"I'm not one for that, sir," Francois demured. "I tend to keep to my own devices."

"And that's very well and good," said Bowser, starting away toward the hallway. "Just remember, Francois, that too much time spent only in one's own company can leave one strange." He waved a quick farewell over his shoulder to the Shadow agent and left, heading for brunch.

Dawn shone down on the plains, but inside the maroon canvas tent, nobody would have known. Darkness prevailed, and the figure sleeping on the double-sized folding cot snored softly, content as anyone could hope to ever be while camping. Of course, this individual didn't have to worry about the mundane rituals of breaking down the cot, the tent, or any of the supplies associated with being on the road. This traveler didn't have to cook, though they knew how. Nor did the traveler have to clean, though they knew what was involved.

Being a princess never came with such demands, after all. Peach naturally came awake to the beat of her own circadian rhythm, and when she did, she found herself wanting to go right back to sleep. But she couldn't do that; despite lacking certain areas of responsibility and expectations, she had more than a few other requirements set upon her as Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom.

Clambering out of bed, she quickly got dressed in her light pink dress, which had become a trademark of hers, and lit the portable lamp by her travel vanity. She applied some light makeup and did her necessary, pushing the chamber pot out through a flap at the back of the tent. It was pushed back in by some nameless servant a minute later, and Princess Peach mustered her will, her smile, and her travel cloak before exiting the tent.

The camp had been torn down already, leaving her feeling rather foolish. She'd hoped to be up in time to catch her escorts at their work; once more she was painfully aware of their professionalism. A canvas chair and plate of food were brought to her before she could even speak by toadstool men whose faces were severe and whose eyes promised only strength, of both body and character.

They serve me, and I am far from their equal in so very many ways, she thought. Peach sat down and cleared her throat, looking up at her Heart Guard, a title bestowed upon any knight in the Kingdom sworn to the crown's children as their personal retinue's commander. "Dofun?"

"Aye, Princess," he said, a tall toadstool in light chain armor. He wouldn't have stuck out from his comrades, but for the spots on his head cap being red instead of blue or black and his lighter armor.

"Where's Matty?"

"She's busy giving some of my lads fresh Hell for not scouting the roads south."

"We're not going south, we're going west."

"A point I tried to make, mum, but she was having none of it."

"She's hung over again, isn't she?"

"As one might expect, all the extra wine she's had on this trip."

"Cut her rations when she isn't looking," said Peach, tucking into her breakfast as more toadstool men broke down the tent and gear behind her. "Add them to your own if needs be."

"Thank you, mum." Dofun pulled out a small pocket notebook and flipped it open. "There's the village half a day's trek away if we go a little north, head along the main road."

"Father advised we avoid the main road while here in the Empire," Peach replied. "Anyone using the main road risks tarriffs, even residents if they're non-military."

"Don't we have diplomatic status, mum?"

"Yes, and tarriff collectors have armed men and drill tanks. A smile and winning personality amounts to a pair of twos in this particular card game. Best to hedge our bets and stick to the plains." Dofun made a quick 'she has a point' expression, then slunk off to see to Matty's rations of wine.

With luck, they would arrive at the castle village around the time Dofun predicted, putting them only a few hours behind their original schedule. But those few hours would require almost an entire day to make up for once they reached the village attached to Prince Renoit's castle.

She thought about not the Prince, but his semi-permanent guest, the wily engineer who was said to be responsible for the craftily designed war machines that had given Mushroom Kingdom so much trouble. "Bowser," she said wistfully. "It will be good to see you again, my friend."