Post by Cyphir on Aug 30, 2011 13:31:54 GMT -5
Hey everyone! This is the Prologue chapter to my Mario Brothers adaption, and hopefully, it does a fair job in setting the stage for the novel.
I'm only posting the Prologue for numerous reasons, but one of them is simply that I enjoy hearing a reader's direct thoughts. If someone is interested in reading more of the novel, then feel free to send me a PM. I've used a chapter-by-chapter PMing structure several times before, and it's worked quite well, so hopefully there are no problems with it.
Well, without further adieu, here is the Prologue, along with a linked image to the cover of the book(with the author bio portion blacked out for online viewing. Hence the odd space at the bottom). Hopefully, you enjoy!
dl.dropbox.com/u/36335907/JoaK%20Coverspread.jpg (I tried to post it with the IMG tags, but it stretched the forum quite badly. So, I'll settle with just a link)
Super Mario Brothers
Journey of a Kingdom
by P.A. Schmidt
Mario, Princess Peach, Bowser, the Mushroom Kingdom, and all other related aspects are copyrighted properties of Nintendo.
This story and all other original characters, concepts, and related aspects are copyrighted to P. A. Schmidt.
Prologue
A representative of the Mushroom Kingdom walked up a flight of stairs towards the King’s chambers with a small stack of papers in one hand and a pen in the other. The delegate passed numerous guards before reaching the top of the stairway. The door to the King’s chamber was opened for him, and he stepped across the threshold without hesitation.
The King’s private chamber was a small office, furnished with a large mahogany desk and bookshelves filled to capacity. The sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating the middle of the room. Seated behind the desk was the ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom who’s eyes were affixed on a group of papers that littered the tabletop. He held himself sluggishly - almost as if he had been lacking sleep lately - and deep lines of concentration indented his face. Despite it being the middle of the day, he was still dressed in his sleeping garments.
The delegate cleared his throat to make his presence known, and the king looked up quickly. The king’s eyes widened in recognition of the person in front of him.
“Wooster, I didn’t even hear you come in,” the king stated, taking off his glasses and laying them aside along with the papers. Motioning with his hands, he welcomed the delegate.
Wooster, who had worked as the King’s councilor for many years, stepped forward and leveled his eyeglasses before speaking, “My king, I did not know that you were so inundated with this paperwork. This is a job for one of your accountants, not you.”
“Nonsense,” the king dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’m perfectly fit to work on these matters myself.”
Wooster leaned forward and conspicuously glanced at the king over the side of the desk of the desk. “If I might speak candidly, my king: you don’t look like it.”
The king looked down at himself, letting out a surprised breath. “I must have forgotten to dress myself. How silly of me,” he chuckled, straightening his garment. “Now, what is it you wanted?”
Wooster stood still for a moment, then began, “Do you remember the dam break that flooded the crop last month, my king?”
“Yes, of course. The citizens rallied together to save as much of the crop as they could. How were they successful?”
Wooster looked at the papers in his hand and placed them on the desk. The king picked up the stack of papers, reading slowly as Wooster spoke, “As you can see from the underlined portions, the percentage of the harvest that was able to be saved was only a mere twenty percent.”
The king looked up abruptly. “Twenty percent? That’s not enough to feed the Kingdom!”
Wooster nodded and flipped the stack of papers to the last page. “Here,” Wooster pointed with his pen at a line of dialogue, “you can see that the year’s harvest accounted for eighty percent of our entire food surplus. Totaling the losses from the flood, we are left with a minimal thirty percent of the harvest.”
The king walked to the window in the room and rubbed his chin, staring outside as he contemplated the situation. Eyeing the civilians below, he said, “Even if we rationed the food, that would not be enough to feed the whole Kingdom. Have you contacted our closest allies at Rosetown?”
The king marched back to his desk as Wooster looked up in recollection.
“Yes, but they can only spare five percent of their surplus.”
“Only five?”
“A rain storm soiled their stockpile.”
The king was still as his mind ran through options of recourse. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “What about Wisterbase? They are not much further from us than Rosetown.”
“Unfortunately, the rock valley to Wisterbase has collapsed in, blocking any means of travel. Their supervisor is not expecting it to be cleared any time soon.”
“And Sarasaland? They are not hostile to us.”
“There are no reports on their current situation. However, it would take a full months’ time to travel there, and the citizens here would have to ration what little surplus we have.”
“That seems like our only option at this point...” The king was silent again for a moment. “Yes, that is what we will have to do.”
“Sarasaland may not be hostile, my king, but I fear that they will not hand out a large amount of their resources. Even an envoy skilled in trading relations would most likely be denied.”
“Then I will go myself.”
Shocked by his sudden statement, Wooster choked back a cough. “My king, it is far too dangerous for you to travel to--”
“It is more dangerous if I do not. My kingdom is facing starvation.”
Wooster was silent, fingering his pen. Shortly after, the king then broke the silence, “If staying here in safety means risking the lives of the citizens, then my safety is of little value. Arrange a boat to sail to Sarasaland as soon as you can.”
Wooster bowed slowly before speaking, “Yes, my king. I will prepare a ship as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Wooster.”
Wooster gave another, though quick, bow before leaving the room. As he opened the door, there stood a tall, young woman, not yet in her middle-twenties. Wearing a dignified gown and a troubled expression, the woman stepped through as Wooster closed the door behind himself. The woman approached the desk and the king stood up from his chair, his prior concerns fading away as a smile emerged on his face.
“Peach, my daughter, you have the perfect timing,” the king jubilantly said while coming from behind his desk. As he stepped next to her, he noticed the distraught expression in his daughter’s eyes. “Why, what is wrong?”
“Father, why is it that you have been in here for the entire day? No one had even heard from you until an hour ago when you asked for a cup of coffee!”
“You don’t need to be concerned with me, Peach,” the king heartedly stated.
“Of course I’m concerned, Father! Your health isn’t what it used to be, and that worries me.”
“Well, I apologize for worrying you. But you need not trouble yourself with my care.”
Peach gave a slight nod and sat down on a nearby bench, followed by her father.
“What were you and Wooster talking about?” Peach asked, her voice taking an inquisitive tone.
The king breathed in before speaking, “Do you remember the flood that came just before the harvest?”
Peach nodded. “I helped dry the food that we were able to save.”
“Yes. However, we were only able to save a fraction of the original harvest.”
Immediate concern washed over Peach’s face. “How much is that?”
“Not enough. At best, we only have thirty percent of all our food stock for this year.”
“Won’t others be able to supply us with food?”
“No one that is within the surrounding territories is able to spare any of their crop. I will be leaving for Sarasaland to negotiate a trade, however.”
Peach expressed an apprehensive look upon hearing the name. “Sarasaland? I’ve heard that there were pirates roaming the waters near there.”
“Only rumors, my daughter. And rumors are rarely true.”
Peach stood up from the bench and walked back to her father’s desk. Picking up the report Wooster had brought, Peach scanned the few pages absentmindedly before looking back to her father.
“How much time will the surplus last?”
The king looked down and hesitated. “Not much longer than this month. Perhaps to the end March, with tight rationing.”
“When will you be leaving?”
“As soon as I can. You will be in charge of running the Kingdom until I return.”
At this, Peach’s eyes grew wide. “Father! I can’t run the Kingdom!”
The king stood up from the bench and approached his daughter. “Peach, you have the heart, compassion, and will to run this Kingdom. To run any kingdom, for that matter. You’ve been with me through many trials, and have always handled yourself exceptionally. I trust you as readily as my own mind.”
Peach opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly hushed by her father, “I won’t hear of it otherwise. You’ll have numerous knowledgeable advisors to help you along, so you don’t need to be worried. I know you’ll do everything right.”
Deciding not to respond, Peach instead gazed at a large, painted portrait on the wall: a beautiful woman in her late thirties, smiling softly. It was a painting that had long hung in the king’s chamber.
“You have so much of your mother in you,” the king said after following Peach’s gaze.
Peach looked back at her father. “How long will you be gone?”
“I will return as soon as I can. It should be no later than February.”
Peach smiled, giving her father a hug, who lovingly returned it.
“You’ll do just fine, Peach, I know it.”
~~
A heavy, metal door slammed shut, echoing down the hallway which was soon filled with the sound of furious stomping. A bulky reptile was the cause of the ruckus. His large stature matched the enormity of his grisly mouth and harsh, glaring eyes. Spanning the distance of the long hallway with only a few strides, the reptile sharply turned a corner and quickly resuming his beating footsteps. Roughly brushing back his bright, flaming red hair, he stopped ahead of two guards. They were both outfitted in rugged armor and stood guard in front of a massive door. As the two caught sight of the infuriated beast approaching them, one stepped forward and timidly outstretched his hands.
“Prince Bowser, I’m afraid that the lord is too sick to--”
In a flash, the guard was lifted from his feet and had his face pressed up against Bowser’s. A hot fire burned in the reptile’s eyes as he snarled out his words, “Open the door, now.”
The guard landed on his backside as he was suddenly dropped. With quick motions, the guard signaled for the other to open the door, who abruptly did so. Taking a large key tied to his side, the guard unlocked the door and gave way to Bowser.
Bowser barged past the two, moving into the now-open chamber. Intricately carved from stone and lit with a dim orange glow, the chamber was unfurnished with the exception of a stone desk, a small fireplace, and a rather out-of-place glass chandelier. Seated at the desk, was Bowser’s target: his father, the leader of the Koopa Clan, Traw. Traw’s rapt attention was in a large book, seemingly unaware of Bowser’s abrupt entry. He looked like a replica of Bowser, albeit older and with hard, deep lines across his rough face.
As soon as he reached the desk, Bowser slammed both of his fists down upon the table, causing the objects unfortunate enough to be next to clatter against the cold, stone floor.
“You’re going to tell me right now why you recalled my regiment,” growled Bowser, reinforcing his demand with a cutting glare.
“I called them back because of your impulsive advance,” replied his father simply, not having looked away from the book in his hands.
“Impulsive?! Those local rodents are morons who are clogging up the mining progress!”
“Those ‘morons’ have more bite to their bark than you give them credit,” Traw stated coldly. “A rash, full-force attack - like you had in that mind of yours - would have been suicide.”
Bowser lashed forward, snatching the book from his father’s grip and tossing it to the ground. “Don’t ridicule me. You had no right to take over control of my regiment,” Bowser snapped, pointing a sharp claw at his father.
Traw shakily stood up from his chair, steadying himself against the desk as he matched his son’s scowl. “‘Your’ regiment is part of my army. You’re lucky I’ve given you any control.”
The two were quiet for a moment, battling each other in a duel of stares. After a moment, Bowser jerked his head away abruptly, retreating from the room in a fury. Traw watched his son depart and the guards close the door before walking over to retrieve his book. Once again settled back in his chair, Traw returned to his reading, unfazed by the conflict.
~~
Despite the fortress of Traw being positioned next to a large volcano in the depths of Scaldergate, the frigid winter air pierced even the hottest parts of the land, especially during nights such as this. Bowser was wrapped tightly in a long cloak as he spied upon a small town in the distance. In the dense darkness of night, the town was only made visible to the world by a few scattered lights that dimly glittered through the open windows of parse homes.
Bowser was still seething with anger from the earlier confrontation with his father. The more his mind conjured up thoughts about Traw, the higher the hate bubbled inside him. His heart was cold to his father, and the burning disgust he felt was something he was unable to exist under. An hour earlier, Bowser had left the fortress of his father in an effort to head to a town of which he had heard rumors about. Rumors that a very skilled and elusive magician lived there.
Bowser reached behind him and gathered his cloak to drape over his head. Stuffing his clawed hands inside deep pockets, Bowser set out towards the border of the small town.
As he entered the town, he received the occasional suspicious glance or two, but was otherwise left alone. Bowser dug his hands further into the cloak and started moving faster than before.
“Stupid place. Gives me the creeps,” he muttered to himself as he continued onward through the dusk streets.
Spotting the hut he was looking for amidst the crowd of other dim buildings, Bowser quickly ducked through it’s doorway. Bowser shut the door behind him, keeping watch to make sure his cloak was securely on. A koopa, wearing a pair of small glasses that rested on his arched beak, stepped forward to greet Bowser upon seeing him step through the doorway. Scrutinizing the koopa quickly, Bowser took note that the he was in his mid-thirties. He was short, but had good posture.
A servant most likely, Bowser reasoned.
"Yes, how can I help you?” voiced the koopa, pulling Bowser from his thoughts.
“You own this place?”
The koopa nodded. Bowser glanced left and right before stooping down to the koopa, whispering softly.
“Oh, yes!” voiced the koopa in a hushed tone. “Of course. This way.”
The koopa turned around and headed towards another door in the back of the room. Opening the door wide, the koopa motioned for Bowser to follow him as he disappeared from sight. Bowser quickly moved to the doorway, following the koopa down a short flight of stairs.
The stairs ended at a darkened room, which was only softly lit by one incandescent candle that hung against the back wall. Bowser struggled to scan the room, but found the lack of proper lighting to be a hindrance. He was so busy attempting to look about the room that Bowser did not even notice the koopa retreating back up the stairs.
“I don’t see anythin--” Bowser said, turning around to face the koopa. His eyes stopped at the empty area behind him, and he moved to check up the stairs.
“You have called for my services, yes?” a wavering, shrill voice spoke suddenly from behind Bowser.
As Bowser whipped around, his eyes settled on an old koopa woman who was seated on the ground in the middle of the room. The koopa was dressed in a thick, purple robe, a drooping hat, and wore a pair of pointed glasses that covered her eyes. Only her wavering voice and wrinkled face gave away the fact that she was quite old.
Bowser blinked at the koopa, certain she had not been there a moment earlier. Ignoring his confusion, Bowser stepped forward and removed his hands from his pockets as he folded his arms imposingly.
“Are you the rumored magician: Kammy?”
“What do you need done?”
Bowser smirked to himself. This woman might be an old hag, but she got to the point. The prince stepped towards her, stopping only a few feet from the magician as he sat down across from her.
Bowser pulled back his hands and lifted his hood from his face. “I need you to make a poison. Something strong.”
Kammy seemed unfazed by his identity, leading him to believe she merely didn’t recognize him. Either that, or the glasses behind which she studied him hid her true reaction. “And what would you need a poison for?”
“None of your business.”
“It’ll cost you.”
Bowser raised his eyebrow and put his hand into his pocket. Pulling out a small, jingling bag, he tossed it to the magician. “I have the money.”
Kammy untied the bag, eyes settling on numerous gold coins. “This is a lot for some poison.”
“You’ll be paid with the real prize once I get the poison. This is just the downpayment.”
Kammy was silent in thought, examining one of the twinkling coins thoroughly. “How soon do you need it?”
“By tomorrow.”
"I’ll have it.”
“It’s a deal, then,” Bowser grinned, sticking out his palm to shake Kammy’s hand.
The magician gave a smirk, shaking his hand firmly. Bowser covered himself again with his cloak as he stood up and turned to leave the room.
“I hope that the Prince of the Koopas might have a safe trip home. It’s quite a long way from here,” the magician said from behind Bowser, causing him to abruptly stop.
Bowser did not respond to the comment, but instead resumed his travel as he climbed up the stairs quickly, all while under Kammy’s gaze. As Bowser disappeared from view, Kammy stashed the bag of coins in her long cloak. Standing up, Kammy moved to the back of the room. Stretching up to the candle, Kammy blew a quick puff of breath which cut out the life of the fire as the room was covered in a fresh blanket of darkness.
~~
It was only an hour before the King was to depart for Sarasaland, and the castle was bustling with activity as the citizens of the Kingdom prepared for his absence. Likewise, a large seafaring vessel was being readied for the King. The galley had been filled with food, the sailing charts double-checked for any error, and the crew hand-picked for their individual talents.
Inside the expansive lobby of the castle, a large group of servants hustled with their chores. Packed cargo and small pieces of furniture that were to be transported to the galley were passed around the room, and any outsider who observed the room would instantly be struck with a sense of haphazard confusion. Princess Peach, amidst the multitudinous amount of people and objects, was busy ducking and weaving her way through across the room in an effort to move to the small study located on the other side.
Anticipating the arduous labor that would be needed during the day, Peach had forgone wearing a dress indicative of her royal stature. Instead she donned a thick work outfit. She had been lost in the mentality her work until realizing her father was due to leave in an hour.
Through much darting and careful evasion of any stray objects, Peach arrived at the study and entered with haste. The booming chatter of voices faded away as the door shut, and only a few toads walked about the serene study. In the far corner of the room, amidst the small gathering, was her father and Wooster, quietly discussing with each other.
Peach brushed down the front of her dirty clothing before approaching the two. Her father paused a brief moment to acknowledge her presence before continuing with Wooster.
“Father,” Peach called, attempting to gain her father’s attention.
The king turned to her again, staring at her face for a long moment.
“Why, Peach!” he exclaimed. “You’re filthy! I hardly recognized you!”
Peach renewed her self-appraisal and her eyes settled on the large stains that spotted her rough clothing. “Oh, I was helping out with the preparations.”
“Nonsense. That is nothing a princess should be doing.”
“But, father--”
“And those clothes! You look like a common scrub!”
Peach gave a sigh, picking at her clothing abstractedly.
“I do hope you’ll clean yourself up before you go before the people. That’s only a few minutes away, and shortly after that I will be departing for Sarasaland!” her father finished. “Now, what did you want to see me for?”
“I wanted to wish you a fair journey to Sarasaland. And... and to say goodbye, if I did not get the chance to do so later,” Peach said in a low-voice.
Her father gave a loving smile, walking forward to his daughter. “Thank you, my daughter. Now, go upstairs and prepare yourself for the address to the citizens. In a few moments I will come to get you.”
Peach nodded, smiled, then walked out of the study. Once she left, Wooster, who was fingering his glasses thoughtfully, spoke up, “My king?”
The king turned to face Wooster, eyebrows raised curiously. “Yes?”
“The princess. Do you think she will be able to handle the entire Kingdom?”
The king stared at the door where Peach had departed. His answer was swift and firm, “Absolutely.”
Wooster nodded, returning his attention to the pad he was holding. “Back to this final matter. We only have to prepare the sails for the ship, then all is set for your departure. For the sails, we’ll need...”
~~
Fifteen minutes was all that was needed in the hands of skilled attendants to transform a tomboy scrub into a petite princess, as Peach discovered as she examined herself in a mirror. She had been outfitted in a lovely white gown that had been lined with strips of lace. Her long, sandy-blond hair had been carefully fashioned so that her bangs would not obstruct her sight, while the rest of her hair freely rested behind her.
Peach wasn’t looking at her attire, however. Instead, her eyes were affixed to the fearful face staring back at her.
It was now that Peach realized the full weight of the responsibility she had to fulfill. With her father soon gone, and his most trusted assistants - Wooster in particular - leaving along with him, Peach knew that the task she was given wouldn’t be simple. She dreaded the upcoming departure of her father. She wished that there had been some way to avoid it.
Peach gave a long sigh and seated herself in a nearby chair. She knew that - while she might be apprehensive of the task ahead - her fear was fruitless. It was necessary that her father leave and that she take care of the Kingdom. Despite her mental resolve, Peach couldn’t halt the uneasiness within her that something might go wrong.
A short knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Peach stood up promptly and walked to the door, opening it. Her father was standing in the doorway in a ceremonial raiment with a small box in his hands.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” her father said, walking into the room.
The king shut the door behind him then sat down in an open chair. He didn’t say a word, simply observed her closely. Peach could see something in his eye; a look that concerned her.
“What is it, father?” she asked, sitting down in a chair opposite from him.
The king stared at the box in his hands for a long moment, then back at her. “Peach, I have something to give you. Just in case.”
Peach raised her eyebrow.
“This box,” her father continued, “contains something that is of great importance to the Kingdom.”
The king turned the box around, carefully opening the lid. Reaching inside, the king lifted a small object out of the box. Peach was unable to see it with the lid in the way, but her curiosity was captured by the unknown object.
The king laid the box aside, stood up, and held out the object in his hand.
It was a gold crown, skillfully carved and embedded with large, brilliant gemstones.
As Peach stared at the crown intently, a dim recognition settled in her mind. “Is that Mother’s crown?”
The king nodded, placing the crown lightly in his daughter’s hands. “This crown has been passed down for centuries. Every queen of the Mushroom Kingdom has worn this with pride. And, should something happen to me while I’m away... I want you to have it.”
Peach gasped, looking back at her father. Slowly she began to shake her head. “Father, I can’t wear this. I’m not a queen.”
“As I said, should something happen to me, the people will look up to you as the reigning authority to carry the Kingdom forward.”
“Don’t say that, father! I can’t run a kingdom like you can!”
“You could run this kingdom. Better than I could, Peach. I know that you are a strong, young woman, who could lead the Mushroom Kingdom far beyond the successes I’ve had.”
Peach looked back to the crown in her hands, though she continued to shake her head. “I can’t, father. This isn’t mine.”
“Peach,” her father lightly grasped her shoulders. “Please, at least for my sake, take the crown.”
Peach stood still, her eyes not leaving the crown. “You will come back, right?”
“Of course I will,” the king said, though the wavering of uncertainty was evident through his voice.
Neither spoke another word for the longest time. Peach stared in her father’s eyes closely, searching for the truth in his words. The faint sound of a bell ringing in the distance sounded, prompting the king to stand up from his seat and break the eye contact between the two.
“It’s time for the speech,” he stated lovingly.
Peach looked back down at the crown in her hands, breathing a soft sigh. The king stooped down to Peach, holding out the box in front of him with a caring stare as she placed the crown carefully in the box.
“I have told my most valuable men staying behind to lock the crown away in the deepest, most protected safe of the castle. If needed...” he trailed off, shutting the box closed and tucking it under his arm. “Well, everything will work out,” he finished, a smile on his face as he offered a hand to her.
Peach lightly grasped his palm and pulled herself up, a reassured smile on her face. She knew inwardly it was a fake one, but her father did not seem to notice its falsity.
The king held out his arm with a kind smile, letting Peach loop her hand around it as they walked outside of the room.
“I’m so proud of you, Peach,” he whispered in her ear as the two passed down a long hallway.
Peach gave a smile - this time earnestly. As the two turned into another hallway, she eyed an open doorway far ahead of them. The eager chattering of the Kingdom’s citizens could be heard, and the shafts of light that spread into the castle passage invited the two to their ceremony.
The ceremony was the exit of the King and the entrance of his daughter, but it was only a beginning. No one could have predicted what great adventure was to be set in motion.
I'm only posting the Prologue for numerous reasons, but one of them is simply that I enjoy hearing a reader's direct thoughts. If someone is interested in reading more of the novel, then feel free to send me a PM. I've used a chapter-by-chapter PMing structure several times before, and it's worked quite well, so hopefully there are no problems with it.
Well, without further adieu, here is the Prologue, along with a linked image to the cover of the book(with the author bio portion blacked out for online viewing. Hence the odd space at the bottom). Hopefully, you enjoy!
dl.dropbox.com/u/36335907/JoaK%20Coverspread.jpg (I tried to post it with the IMG tags, but it stretched the forum quite badly. So, I'll settle with just a link)
Super Mario Brothers
Journey of a Kingdom
by P.A. Schmidt
Mario, Princess Peach, Bowser, the Mushroom Kingdom, and all other related aspects are copyrighted properties of Nintendo.
This story and all other original characters, concepts, and related aspects are copyrighted to P. A. Schmidt.
Prologue
A representative of the Mushroom Kingdom walked up a flight of stairs towards the King’s chambers with a small stack of papers in one hand and a pen in the other. The delegate passed numerous guards before reaching the top of the stairway. The door to the King’s chamber was opened for him, and he stepped across the threshold without hesitation.
The King’s private chamber was a small office, furnished with a large mahogany desk and bookshelves filled to capacity. The sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating the middle of the room. Seated behind the desk was the ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom who’s eyes were affixed on a group of papers that littered the tabletop. He held himself sluggishly - almost as if he had been lacking sleep lately - and deep lines of concentration indented his face. Despite it being the middle of the day, he was still dressed in his sleeping garments.
The delegate cleared his throat to make his presence known, and the king looked up quickly. The king’s eyes widened in recognition of the person in front of him.
“Wooster, I didn’t even hear you come in,” the king stated, taking off his glasses and laying them aside along with the papers. Motioning with his hands, he welcomed the delegate.
Wooster, who had worked as the King’s councilor for many years, stepped forward and leveled his eyeglasses before speaking, “My king, I did not know that you were so inundated with this paperwork. This is a job for one of your accountants, not you.”
“Nonsense,” the king dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’m perfectly fit to work on these matters myself.”
Wooster leaned forward and conspicuously glanced at the king over the side of the desk of the desk. “If I might speak candidly, my king: you don’t look like it.”
The king looked down at himself, letting out a surprised breath. “I must have forgotten to dress myself. How silly of me,” he chuckled, straightening his garment. “Now, what is it you wanted?”
Wooster stood still for a moment, then began, “Do you remember the dam break that flooded the crop last month, my king?”
“Yes, of course. The citizens rallied together to save as much of the crop as they could. How were they successful?”
Wooster looked at the papers in his hand and placed them on the desk. The king picked up the stack of papers, reading slowly as Wooster spoke, “As you can see from the underlined portions, the percentage of the harvest that was able to be saved was only a mere twenty percent.”
The king looked up abruptly. “Twenty percent? That’s not enough to feed the Kingdom!”
Wooster nodded and flipped the stack of papers to the last page. “Here,” Wooster pointed with his pen at a line of dialogue, “you can see that the year’s harvest accounted for eighty percent of our entire food surplus. Totaling the losses from the flood, we are left with a minimal thirty percent of the harvest.”
The king walked to the window in the room and rubbed his chin, staring outside as he contemplated the situation. Eyeing the civilians below, he said, “Even if we rationed the food, that would not be enough to feed the whole Kingdom. Have you contacted our closest allies at Rosetown?”
The king marched back to his desk as Wooster looked up in recollection.
“Yes, but they can only spare five percent of their surplus.”
“Only five?”
“A rain storm soiled their stockpile.”
The king was still as his mind ran through options of recourse. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “What about Wisterbase? They are not much further from us than Rosetown.”
“Unfortunately, the rock valley to Wisterbase has collapsed in, blocking any means of travel. Their supervisor is not expecting it to be cleared any time soon.”
“And Sarasaland? They are not hostile to us.”
“There are no reports on their current situation. However, it would take a full months’ time to travel there, and the citizens here would have to ration what little surplus we have.”
“That seems like our only option at this point...” The king was silent again for a moment. “Yes, that is what we will have to do.”
“Sarasaland may not be hostile, my king, but I fear that they will not hand out a large amount of their resources. Even an envoy skilled in trading relations would most likely be denied.”
“Then I will go myself.”
Shocked by his sudden statement, Wooster choked back a cough. “My king, it is far too dangerous for you to travel to--”
“It is more dangerous if I do not. My kingdom is facing starvation.”
Wooster was silent, fingering his pen. Shortly after, the king then broke the silence, “If staying here in safety means risking the lives of the citizens, then my safety is of little value. Arrange a boat to sail to Sarasaland as soon as you can.”
Wooster bowed slowly before speaking, “Yes, my king. I will prepare a ship as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Wooster.”
Wooster gave another, though quick, bow before leaving the room. As he opened the door, there stood a tall, young woman, not yet in her middle-twenties. Wearing a dignified gown and a troubled expression, the woman stepped through as Wooster closed the door behind himself. The woman approached the desk and the king stood up from his chair, his prior concerns fading away as a smile emerged on his face.
“Peach, my daughter, you have the perfect timing,” the king jubilantly said while coming from behind his desk. As he stepped next to her, he noticed the distraught expression in his daughter’s eyes. “Why, what is wrong?”
“Father, why is it that you have been in here for the entire day? No one had even heard from you until an hour ago when you asked for a cup of coffee!”
“You don’t need to be concerned with me, Peach,” the king heartedly stated.
“Of course I’m concerned, Father! Your health isn’t what it used to be, and that worries me.”
“Well, I apologize for worrying you. But you need not trouble yourself with my care.”
Peach gave a slight nod and sat down on a nearby bench, followed by her father.
“What were you and Wooster talking about?” Peach asked, her voice taking an inquisitive tone.
The king breathed in before speaking, “Do you remember the flood that came just before the harvest?”
Peach nodded. “I helped dry the food that we were able to save.”
“Yes. However, we were only able to save a fraction of the original harvest.”
Immediate concern washed over Peach’s face. “How much is that?”
“Not enough. At best, we only have thirty percent of all our food stock for this year.”
“Won’t others be able to supply us with food?”
“No one that is within the surrounding territories is able to spare any of their crop. I will be leaving for Sarasaland to negotiate a trade, however.”
Peach expressed an apprehensive look upon hearing the name. “Sarasaland? I’ve heard that there were pirates roaming the waters near there.”
“Only rumors, my daughter. And rumors are rarely true.”
Peach stood up from the bench and walked back to her father’s desk. Picking up the report Wooster had brought, Peach scanned the few pages absentmindedly before looking back to her father.
“How much time will the surplus last?”
The king looked down and hesitated. “Not much longer than this month. Perhaps to the end March, with tight rationing.”
“When will you be leaving?”
“As soon as I can. You will be in charge of running the Kingdom until I return.”
At this, Peach’s eyes grew wide. “Father! I can’t run the Kingdom!”
The king stood up from the bench and approached his daughter. “Peach, you have the heart, compassion, and will to run this Kingdom. To run any kingdom, for that matter. You’ve been with me through many trials, and have always handled yourself exceptionally. I trust you as readily as my own mind.”
Peach opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly hushed by her father, “I won’t hear of it otherwise. You’ll have numerous knowledgeable advisors to help you along, so you don’t need to be worried. I know you’ll do everything right.”
Deciding not to respond, Peach instead gazed at a large, painted portrait on the wall: a beautiful woman in her late thirties, smiling softly. It was a painting that had long hung in the king’s chamber.
“You have so much of your mother in you,” the king said after following Peach’s gaze.
Peach looked back at her father. “How long will you be gone?”
“I will return as soon as I can. It should be no later than February.”
Peach smiled, giving her father a hug, who lovingly returned it.
“You’ll do just fine, Peach, I know it.”
~~
A heavy, metal door slammed shut, echoing down the hallway which was soon filled with the sound of furious stomping. A bulky reptile was the cause of the ruckus. His large stature matched the enormity of his grisly mouth and harsh, glaring eyes. Spanning the distance of the long hallway with only a few strides, the reptile sharply turned a corner and quickly resuming his beating footsteps. Roughly brushing back his bright, flaming red hair, he stopped ahead of two guards. They were both outfitted in rugged armor and stood guard in front of a massive door. As the two caught sight of the infuriated beast approaching them, one stepped forward and timidly outstretched his hands.
“Prince Bowser, I’m afraid that the lord is too sick to--”
In a flash, the guard was lifted from his feet and had his face pressed up against Bowser’s. A hot fire burned in the reptile’s eyes as he snarled out his words, “Open the door, now.”
The guard landed on his backside as he was suddenly dropped. With quick motions, the guard signaled for the other to open the door, who abruptly did so. Taking a large key tied to his side, the guard unlocked the door and gave way to Bowser.
Bowser barged past the two, moving into the now-open chamber. Intricately carved from stone and lit with a dim orange glow, the chamber was unfurnished with the exception of a stone desk, a small fireplace, and a rather out-of-place glass chandelier. Seated at the desk, was Bowser’s target: his father, the leader of the Koopa Clan, Traw. Traw’s rapt attention was in a large book, seemingly unaware of Bowser’s abrupt entry. He looked like a replica of Bowser, albeit older and with hard, deep lines across his rough face.
As soon as he reached the desk, Bowser slammed both of his fists down upon the table, causing the objects unfortunate enough to be next to clatter against the cold, stone floor.
“You’re going to tell me right now why you recalled my regiment,” growled Bowser, reinforcing his demand with a cutting glare.
“I called them back because of your impulsive advance,” replied his father simply, not having looked away from the book in his hands.
“Impulsive?! Those local rodents are morons who are clogging up the mining progress!”
“Those ‘morons’ have more bite to their bark than you give them credit,” Traw stated coldly. “A rash, full-force attack - like you had in that mind of yours - would have been suicide.”
Bowser lashed forward, snatching the book from his father’s grip and tossing it to the ground. “Don’t ridicule me. You had no right to take over control of my regiment,” Bowser snapped, pointing a sharp claw at his father.
Traw shakily stood up from his chair, steadying himself against the desk as he matched his son’s scowl. “‘Your’ regiment is part of my army. You’re lucky I’ve given you any control.”
The two were quiet for a moment, battling each other in a duel of stares. After a moment, Bowser jerked his head away abruptly, retreating from the room in a fury. Traw watched his son depart and the guards close the door before walking over to retrieve his book. Once again settled back in his chair, Traw returned to his reading, unfazed by the conflict.
~~
Despite the fortress of Traw being positioned next to a large volcano in the depths of Scaldergate, the frigid winter air pierced even the hottest parts of the land, especially during nights such as this. Bowser was wrapped tightly in a long cloak as he spied upon a small town in the distance. In the dense darkness of night, the town was only made visible to the world by a few scattered lights that dimly glittered through the open windows of parse homes.
Bowser was still seething with anger from the earlier confrontation with his father. The more his mind conjured up thoughts about Traw, the higher the hate bubbled inside him. His heart was cold to his father, and the burning disgust he felt was something he was unable to exist under. An hour earlier, Bowser had left the fortress of his father in an effort to head to a town of which he had heard rumors about. Rumors that a very skilled and elusive magician lived there.
Bowser reached behind him and gathered his cloak to drape over his head. Stuffing his clawed hands inside deep pockets, Bowser set out towards the border of the small town.
As he entered the town, he received the occasional suspicious glance or two, but was otherwise left alone. Bowser dug his hands further into the cloak and started moving faster than before.
“Stupid place. Gives me the creeps,” he muttered to himself as he continued onward through the dusk streets.
Spotting the hut he was looking for amidst the crowd of other dim buildings, Bowser quickly ducked through it’s doorway. Bowser shut the door behind him, keeping watch to make sure his cloak was securely on. A koopa, wearing a pair of small glasses that rested on his arched beak, stepped forward to greet Bowser upon seeing him step through the doorway. Scrutinizing the koopa quickly, Bowser took note that the he was in his mid-thirties. He was short, but had good posture.
A servant most likely, Bowser reasoned.
"Yes, how can I help you?” voiced the koopa, pulling Bowser from his thoughts.
“You own this place?”
The koopa nodded. Bowser glanced left and right before stooping down to the koopa, whispering softly.
“Oh, yes!” voiced the koopa in a hushed tone. “Of course. This way.”
The koopa turned around and headed towards another door in the back of the room. Opening the door wide, the koopa motioned for Bowser to follow him as he disappeared from sight. Bowser quickly moved to the doorway, following the koopa down a short flight of stairs.
The stairs ended at a darkened room, which was only softly lit by one incandescent candle that hung against the back wall. Bowser struggled to scan the room, but found the lack of proper lighting to be a hindrance. He was so busy attempting to look about the room that Bowser did not even notice the koopa retreating back up the stairs.
“I don’t see anythin--” Bowser said, turning around to face the koopa. His eyes stopped at the empty area behind him, and he moved to check up the stairs.
“You have called for my services, yes?” a wavering, shrill voice spoke suddenly from behind Bowser.
As Bowser whipped around, his eyes settled on an old koopa woman who was seated on the ground in the middle of the room. The koopa was dressed in a thick, purple robe, a drooping hat, and wore a pair of pointed glasses that covered her eyes. Only her wavering voice and wrinkled face gave away the fact that she was quite old.
Bowser blinked at the koopa, certain she had not been there a moment earlier. Ignoring his confusion, Bowser stepped forward and removed his hands from his pockets as he folded his arms imposingly.
“Are you the rumored magician: Kammy?”
“What do you need done?”
Bowser smirked to himself. This woman might be an old hag, but she got to the point. The prince stepped towards her, stopping only a few feet from the magician as he sat down across from her.
Bowser pulled back his hands and lifted his hood from his face. “I need you to make a poison. Something strong.”
Kammy seemed unfazed by his identity, leading him to believe she merely didn’t recognize him. Either that, or the glasses behind which she studied him hid her true reaction. “And what would you need a poison for?”
“None of your business.”
“It’ll cost you.”
Bowser raised his eyebrow and put his hand into his pocket. Pulling out a small, jingling bag, he tossed it to the magician. “I have the money.”
Kammy untied the bag, eyes settling on numerous gold coins. “This is a lot for some poison.”
“You’ll be paid with the real prize once I get the poison. This is just the downpayment.”
Kammy was silent in thought, examining one of the twinkling coins thoroughly. “How soon do you need it?”
“By tomorrow.”
"I’ll have it.”
“It’s a deal, then,” Bowser grinned, sticking out his palm to shake Kammy’s hand.
The magician gave a smirk, shaking his hand firmly. Bowser covered himself again with his cloak as he stood up and turned to leave the room.
“I hope that the Prince of the Koopas might have a safe trip home. It’s quite a long way from here,” the magician said from behind Bowser, causing him to abruptly stop.
Bowser did not respond to the comment, but instead resumed his travel as he climbed up the stairs quickly, all while under Kammy’s gaze. As Bowser disappeared from view, Kammy stashed the bag of coins in her long cloak. Standing up, Kammy moved to the back of the room. Stretching up to the candle, Kammy blew a quick puff of breath which cut out the life of the fire as the room was covered in a fresh blanket of darkness.
~~
It was only an hour before the King was to depart for Sarasaland, and the castle was bustling with activity as the citizens of the Kingdom prepared for his absence. Likewise, a large seafaring vessel was being readied for the King. The galley had been filled with food, the sailing charts double-checked for any error, and the crew hand-picked for their individual talents.
Inside the expansive lobby of the castle, a large group of servants hustled with their chores. Packed cargo and small pieces of furniture that were to be transported to the galley were passed around the room, and any outsider who observed the room would instantly be struck with a sense of haphazard confusion. Princess Peach, amidst the multitudinous amount of people and objects, was busy ducking and weaving her way through across the room in an effort to move to the small study located on the other side.
Anticipating the arduous labor that would be needed during the day, Peach had forgone wearing a dress indicative of her royal stature. Instead she donned a thick work outfit. She had been lost in the mentality her work until realizing her father was due to leave in an hour.
Through much darting and careful evasion of any stray objects, Peach arrived at the study and entered with haste. The booming chatter of voices faded away as the door shut, and only a few toads walked about the serene study. In the far corner of the room, amidst the small gathering, was her father and Wooster, quietly discussing with each other.
Peach brushed down the front of her dirty clothing before approaching the two. Her father paused a brief moment to acknowledge her presence before continuing with Wooster.
“Father,” Peach called, attempting to gain her father’s attention.
The king turned to her again, staring at her face for a long moment.
“Why, Peach!” he exclaimed. “You’re filthy! I hardly recognized you!”
Peach renewed her self-appraisal and her eyes settled on the large stains that spotted her rough clothing. “Oh, I was helping out with the preparations.”
“Nonsense. That is nothing a princess should be doing.”
“But, father--”
“And those clothes! You look like a common scrub!”
Peach gave a sigh, picking at her clothing abstractedly.
“I do hope you’ll clean yourself up before you go before the people. That’s only a few minutes away, and shortly after that I will be departing for Sarasaland!” her father finished. “Now, what did you want to see me for?”
“I wanted to wish you a fair journey to Sarasaland. And... and to say goodbye, if I did not get the chance to do so later,” Peach said in a low-voice.
Her father gave a loving smile, walking forward to his daughter. “Thank you, my daughter. Now, go upstairs and prepare yourself for the address to the citizens. In a few moments I will come to get you.”
Peach nodded, smiled, then walked out of the study. Once she left, Wooster, who was fingering his glasses thoughtfully, spoke up, “My king?”
The king turned to face Wooster, eyebrows raised curiously. “Yes?”
“The princess. Do you think she will be able to handle the entire Kingdom?”
The king stared at the door where Peach had departed. His answer was swift and firm, “Absolutely.”
Wooster nodded, returning his attention to the pad he was holding. “Back to this final matter. We only have to prepare the sails for the ship, then all is set for your departure. For the sails, we’ll need...”
~~
Fifteen minutes was all that was needed in the hands of skilled attendants to transform a tomboy scrub into a petite princess, as Peach discovered as she examined herself in a mirror. She had been outfitted in a lovely white gown that had been lined with strips of lace. Her long, sandy-blond hair had been carefully fashioned so that her bangs would not obstruct her sight, while the rest of her hair freely rested behind her.
Peach wasn’t looking at her attire, however. Instead, her eyes were affixed to the fearful face staring back at her.
It was now that Peach realized the full weight of the responsibility she had to fulfill. With her father soon gone, and his most trusted assistants - Wooster in particular - leaving along with him, Peach knew that the task she was given wouldn’t be simple. She dreaded the upcoming departure of her father. She wished that there had been some way to avoid it.
Peach gave a long sigh and seated herself in a nearby chair. She knew that - while she might be apprehensive of the task ahead - her fear was fruitless. It was necessary that her father leave and that she take care of the Kingdom. Despite her mental resolve, Peach couldn’t halt the uneasiness within her that something might go wrong.
A short knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Peach stood up promptly and walked to the door, opening it. Her father was standing in the doorway in a ceremonial raiment with a small box in his hands.
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” her father said, walking into the room.
The king shut the door behind him then sat down in an open chair. He didn’t say a word, simply observed her closely. Peach could see something in his eye; a look that concerned her.
“What is it, father?” she asked, sitting down in a chair opposite from him.
The king stared at the box in his hands for a long moment, then back at her. “Peach, I have something to give you. Just in case.”
Peach raised her eyebrow.
“This box,” her father continued, “contains something that is of great importance to the Kingdom.”
The king turned the box around, carefully opening the lid. Reaching inside, the king lifted a small object out of the box. Peach was unable to see it with the lid in the way, but her curiosity was captured by the unknown object.
The king laid the box aside, stood up, and held out the object in his hand.
It was a gold crown, skillfully carved and embedded with large, brilliant gemstones.
As Peach stared at the crown intently, a dim recognition settled in her mind. “Is that Mother’s crown?”
The king nodded, placing the crown lightly in his daughter’s hands. “This crown has been passed down for centuries. Every queen of the Mushroom Kingdom has worn this with pride. And, should something happen to me while I’m away... I want you to have it.”
Peach gasped, looking back at her father. Slowly she began to shake her head. “Father, I can’t wear this. I’m not a queen.”
“As I said, should something happen to me, the people will look up to you as the reigning authority to carry the Kingdom forward.”
“Don’t say that, father! I can’t run a kingdom like you can!”
“You could run this kingdom. Better than I could, Peach. I know that you are a strong, young woman, who could lead the Mushroom Kingdom far beyond the successes I’ve had.”
Peach looked back to the crown in her hands, though she continued to shake her head. “I can’t, father. This isn’t mine.”
“Peach,” her father lightly grasped her shoulders. “Please, at least for my sake, take the crown.”
Peach stood still, her eyes not leaving the crown. “You will come back, right?”
“Of course I will,” the king said, though the wavering of uncertainty was evident through his voice.
Neither spoke another word for the longest time. Peach stared in her father’s eyes closely, searching for the truth in his words. The faint sound of a bell ringing in the distance sounded, prompting the king to stand up from his seat and break the eye contact between the two.
“It’s time for the speech,” he stated lovingly.
Peach looked back down at the crown in her hands, breathing a soft sigh. The king stooped down to Peach, holding out the box in front of him with a caring stare as she placed the crown carefully in the box.
“I have told my most valuable men staying behind to lock the crown away in the deepest, most protected safe of the castle. If needed...” he trailed off, shutting the box closed and tucking it under his arm. “Well, everything will work out,” he finished, a smile on his face as he offered a hand to her.
Peach lightly grasped his palm and pulled herself up, a reassured smile on her face. She knew inwardly it was a fake one, but her father did not seem to notice its falsity.
The king held out his arm with a kind smile, letting Peach loop her hand around it as they walked outside of the room.
“I’m so proud of you, Peach,” he whispered in her ear as the two passed down a long hallway.
Peach gave a smile - this time earnestly. As the two turned into another hallway, she eyed an open doorway far ahead of them. The eager chattering of the Kingdom’s citizens could be heard, and the shafts of light that spread into the castle passage invited the two to their ceremony.
The ceremony was the exit of the King and the entrance of his daughter, but it was only a beginning. No one could have predicted what great adventure was to be set in motion.
