Heavy Is The Crown- Chapter Seventeen

Prince Renoit reviewed the missive again, nodded to himself, and tucked it away in a desk drawer. For the time being, there was nothing to be done for it. He had his orders from Father, and he would see them carried out, even if he didn't like them. He knew his role in this war.

Timing is everything, he thought. I'll give it one full day. He was just pulling out his roster book when Meechum knocked on the open door and saw himself in. He had donned his finest suit of ceremonial armor, leaving weapons aside for Princess Peach's visit. This was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting, another round of negotiations. Renoit had been asked to handle this meeting as Peach had requested a visit to the Empire's clever master engineer, a young man named Bowser Entem.

He didn't want to tell Bowser anything about the missive, and in the past, he might not have felt any twinge of guilt for withholding information from his comrades. Yet he had become quite fond of the oversized mutant koopa, enough so to find he didn't like keeping quiet. But orders were orders, including the one to stay quiet.

"The Princess will be coming soon, lordship," Meechum said. "I've instructed all but the Shadow agents to disarm and make themselves presentable. Some of the guards are voicing their distaste for the order rather loudly."

"Did they disarm?"

"If by that you mean 'put their weapons out of immediate reach', then yes. But they've tucked them all in hideaways close to hand. They're all tense, nervous, and I don't blame them. Peach has a lot of bodyguards."

"How many will be entering the castle proper?"

"Six," said Meechum. "One of our people in the village has described their movement as a 'compass plus' formation, though I don't know what that means."

"Douard's 'Royal Lights' formation," Renoit said, and Meechum nodded. "I know, this new language is hard to keep up with sometimes." He stood up, stretched his arms behind his back. "Bowser is ready?"

"He is. The head smithy had one hell of a time adjusting the armor for him. Almost scrapped it for the orc armor in the Trophies Room." Meechum snickered, shook his head. "The scary thing is, that would fit perfect." A comfortable silence fell between the two men, a duo that would frankly have never worked together, were it not for the astonishing young man who'd crossed their fates together. Meechum's smile faded. "He's a man now."

"He certainly hasn't been a child in a long time, if ever," Renoit added. "It could be worse. At least he's got wits. All that raw physical power, and the mechanical aptitude. Can you imagine if he had no control of himself?" Meechum shuddered, and took his leave.

When he was gone, Renoit took out the orders from his father and read them again.

Bowser beamed happily as Princess Peach strode forth into the castle's entrance hall, dressed all in pink chiffon and white gloves and heels, her tiara glittering in the light of the chandelier above. Her body man, Dofun, stepped ahead of her and unfurled a tight scroll, clearing his throat.

"Presenting Her Majesty, Princess Peach Anastasia Toadstool, of the Mushroom Kingdom," he read, rolling the scroll back up and stepping aside. Peach strode forth and extended her hand palm-down to Prince Renoit, who took it in courtly fashion and bowed his forehead against it for a moment. Meechum stepped up on his right, Bowser hanging back and to his left.

Meechum said, "And thy host is Prince Renoit Hurin, of the Gora Empire. We are well met here this day." Meechum signaled for Bowser to come forward. "And this young man is the brilliant engineer you also wished to meet during this visit, Bowser Entem."

Bowser bowed as she curtsied, and the entire gathering shuffled off to the main drawing room. Bowser was eager for this visit indeed.

Meanwhile, halfway across the Empire, a refreshed and invigorated Benjamin Godash, despite his magical treatment which made him forty years younger physically, was on the verge of a collosal heart attack. He clutched the sides of his head and paced back and forth, sweating bullets and cursing under his breath like a man raving from hysteria.

It had been a morning like any other, to be begun with a private audience with the Emperor. This had become quite commonplace. He'd had the kitchen put together a cart with two meals, some coffee and cream, some sugar, and wheeled it into the Emperor's bedchambers, again, now commonplace . The curtains were still closed on the fourposter bed, but that too was commonplace.

Finding the Emperor dead was not.

At first glance, the aged koopa looked like he was just lying in quiet contemplation, staring at the top of his bed. But the smell of his bowels, voided in death, and the waxy skin and lack of breath escaping him told Godash the awful truth of things- Emperor Harin was dead.

Blood hammering in his skull, Godash tried to think of what to do. The only mage capable of bringing a man back from the dead that he knew of was Wunderweiss, and the Grand Magus would not be back to the capital for several days yet.

"What do I do," Godash blurted aloud, still pacing. But he already knew what his other options were. He could either report the death at once, or call once more upon a man he did not trust. "Gannondorf," he whispered.

"You rang," rasped an otherworldly voice from the shadows behind him.

Bowser and Peach had been left alone to have their visit before the Princess was to tend to official business, which seemed to please her. She thanked Bowser as he poured her tea and handed her cup and saucer. A swell of peace washed through his mind as he prepared his own and propped one foot up on the opposite knee.

"It has been too long," he said, opening their dialogue. "You've grown into a fine young woman."

"Thank you," she replied. "And you've grown, well, quite a lot!" He chuckled with her, a harmless jape that he'd become used to. She shook her head, eyes downcast. "It's been difficult, this war. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me."

"The war isn't your fault," Bowser said. "You didn't send troops into Tegal Swamps."

"You're right," she replied. "And your war machines wouldn't be necessary if we had tried sooner to make peace. I can't imagine you enjoy making such things." Bowser sipped his tea, taking his own turn to look aside. Peach narrowed her gaze at him. "You don't enjoy it, do you?"

"Well, I have an affinity for machines, and those have been my primary designs since I was drafted to work in this capacity." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I don't think the army needs me designing home appliances."

"True, but your machines are horrifying," Peach said, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Can't you develop something non-lethal for your Empire's soldiers?"

"I probably could, given more time," said Bowser. "I had designed one, a sonic emitter rifle, that would fire a concentrated burst of noise at a specific wavelength that would render humans and toadstools unconscious." Peach visibly brightened a little.

"So what happened to that project?"

"My design requires silver for the main vibration coil," said Bowser evenly. He flapped his hands and deflated a little, shoulders slouching. "We've barely got any deposits of silver left in the Empire. With our financial situation being what it is, we could afford to import some easily enough, but nobody with large amounts will sell to us."

Peach sipped her tea, eyes twitching back and forth in consideration. She softly said, "Hyrule has plenty of silver."

"Which they won't sell to us, because your father sent a delegation over a year ago to arrange for Hyrule to place sanctions on us," Bowser retorted, rather more hotly than he'd intended. Realizing he'd scooted himself to the edge of his seat, he cleared his throat and slid back. "Um, sorry, about uh, growling at you."

Peach smoothed her dress over her lap, pretending to be watching especially closely for any seams. "No, no, it's quite all right," she said, her tone airy, bordering on haughty. "Have you tried any other materials or designs?"

"I've tested numerous other metals," Bowser said with a sigh. "They all failed. As for other designs, I was warned not to waste the Empire's time on any more non-lethal solutions after that first failure."

"So you just gave up," she asked, huffing. "A man of your talents and wit should be able to carry on, find time for it in you schedule!" Bowser sprang from his chair, hands balled into fists, flickers of flames licking out of his nostrils.

"And someone of your station should understand that I take orders, not make them! I am a peasant, Princess! I am only in this castle because a noble man took pity on my mother and I when my father was killed!" He stomped a few yards away, folding his arms over his broad chest, back to her. "Do you think I'm enjoying this war, this bloodshed?"

The Princess sighed behind him. "No, I don't. But you must admit, you're very good at making things that kill."

"I know I am. I get reports that compare deaths attributed to my creations stacked against the total dead. Thirty-four percent of your army's dead are on my hands," he rumbled, straining to hold back tears. "One-third of your casualties, Princess."

Peach said nothing for a long time, until Bowser returned to his seat, head in his hands. "I had no idea," she offered.

"I know. I apologize for my temper," he replied, sniffling. "I am, in fact, quite glad to be running out of building materials. If I don't have them, I can stop building things for this war." Bowser slugged down the rest of his tea, poured fresh. "Princess, I have a confession."

"Oh?" She waggled her cup at him playfully, and he once again felt powerfully greatful for her. She may have been born into nobility, but he now saw that she had very few options in life herself. The problem wasn't her; the problem was the caste system.

As he poured her another cup, he pitched his voice low. "I was hoping in truth to be able to trick you before into hiring a freelancer to come here in search of your brother," Bowser said. Peach made a displeased but curious face at him. "Now hear me out. This freelancer is a toadstool, formerly one of our Shadow agents. Have you ever heard of the Impirial Shadow?"

"I haven't, and guess I should be thankful for that," she quipped. "Assassins and spies, I presume?"

"Just so. Anyway, I've determined that he was the one responsible for my mother and Prince Nurik's murders, and have furthermore surmised that he did so at the behest of Advisor Benjamin Godash." The flinch in Peach's eyes when he mentioned Godash did not escape Bowser's notice. "You've heard things about him, I take it?"

"From my father mostly," she said. "He says that of all the political powers in Gora Empire, Ben Godash is the deadliest. There are rumors that he orchestrated the deaths of the two Advisors ahead of him, and that he blackmailed his way into the Third seat in the first place, leveraging his close ties to the Hammer Brothers outfit." She set her cup aside and rose. "So what can this freelancer do for you? Surely you don't intend to have him go after Godash."

"No," Bowser rumbled, his face stretching in a wicked grin. "I intend to have him blackmail the Advisor into taking an audience with the Empire's great war engineer."

"It's so, life-like," Godash said, lip curled in disgust. "This defies every law of the natural order."

"Speaking broadly and in deference to defending my own practices, there are no laws of nature, more like guidelines," Gannondorf said casually from the chamber's corner. He roughly tossed the Emperor's lifeless corpse into the shadows behind him, where it disappeared. "The simulacrum will do whatever you want it to, obey any order that doesn't risk killing it immediately."

"Is that important?"

"These things have no power of reason, so they can be frustrating at times. You wouldn't believe how many people tell these things to go fuck themselves, resulting in-"

"Stop," Godash barked, hand raised. "I've got a pretty good imagination." He planted his hands on his hips, which would have pained him a month ago, but which now felt natural and fine. "How long will it last?"

"Until something actively kills it, or you remove its left ear," Gannondorf said. "You now have control over the entire Empire, and none of the responsibility."

"Wait, warlock," Godash said, leaving the clone's side as it sat there on the bed. The Advisor spoke quietly, only a foot away from the half-breed warlock. "You never named your price for this boon. What is it you want?"

Gannondorf seemed to ponder this a minute, rubbing his dagger-like chin. "Hmm. Who is your Empire's greatest architectural mind?"

"Simple, that would be Kitash Mito."

"Does he have an apprentice or heir apparent?"

"Yes, Himeo Jokal. Why?"

"Mr. Jokal disappeared tonight, no trace, no explanation," said Gannondorf, sliding back toward the shadowed corner. "Do you understand me?" Godash swallowed hard, nodded. "You're wondering how I heard you calling for me, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You took my Coin, Benjamin," Gannondorf said, fading out of view into the darkness. "I will always hear you when you have my Coin." And then the warlock was gone, and Benjamin Godash was in control of the mighty Gora Empire.

Long live the Emperor.