V

It is said that time heals all wounds, but that is an outright lie. It would be more accurate to say that time heals most wounds, for there are some that are healed only through more esoteric means, and some that never heal at all. Bowser had spent just over two years learning this, along with other skills he'd deemed necessary to his "education". Gone was the sad and naive child of from two winters past; he had grown into an athletic and mature fighter, or perhaps a civilized thug, depending on the viewpoint.

Only the most exceptional koopa are subject to muscle-binding, and Bowser was not among their ranks. He'd grown a bit taller, and his shell had more scratches and gouges than in the last year, but the definition of his body had not changed much; he might still be mistaken for the wide-eyed dreamer of the past, were it not for his marks, and the heavy pack and the axes he now carried with him. Unlike other fighters who traveled, Bowser had not named his weapons. He wanted to, but could not decide on good ones. Others would adopt crude, violent names like 'Havoc' or 'Malice', or plainly esoteric ones like "Silvery Moon" or "Icingdeth". To Bowser, these names either rang wrong, or sounded stupid. Sometimes, both of these were true.

The most profound changes that the year had wrought, however, were not physical. The day before the day that Toad's father pulled him out of his spiral was the last day that he'd had any alcohol of any kind. This was partly because he desired spiritual betterment, but mostly because he was afraid that the desire, and possibly addiction may return to haunt him, and so he abstained. His eating too, had changed, and he had learned to hunt and forage, and ate no canned or preserved food, if he could help it. Finally, he'd sworn off city life altogether, and when he made camp, it was far enough into the wilderness that the sounds of townships could not reach him (for he would not venture near enough to the kingdom's core to encounter an actual city). In this solitude, Bowser found that he felt more at ease than in an inn, or tavern. He felt the ease he used to in his youth, when he didn't have to worry about things like war.

Bowser was finding, however, that war was ever moving closer and closer to the front of his mind. It wasn't that he desired war with the Mushroom Kingdom. It was that he had traveled east, to the borders of the kingdom and seen first hand what the army had been facing there and beyond. The land was practically desert, the vegetation gradually dying off and giving way to plains of blasted sand. It was here that Bowser had gained the scratches and gouges in his shell, for as the army began its withdraw, they began to employ mercenaries to fill in the gaps and cover their retreat. Bowser was among those mercenaries, and over his year-and-a-half there was infrequently involved in small skirmishes with more toadstools. Not another nation but those that had once been part of the army, driven to insanity and warped of body in sometimes unnatural ways, as if some sort of foul magic was to blame for it. Bowser didn't know anything about magic, but he knew enough that he was through with being a mercenary, for the time being.

Back in the grassy wilderness of the Mushroom Kingdom, Bowser found his thoughts transfixed on the sandy plains he'd seen, wondering what was beyond them. He'd been told that the koopa came form the east, which could only be from across those same plains, but how anything had lived out there was something he could not even begin to guess at. At the same time, however, his thoughts were returning to the cities. After his jaunt in the east, he found himself lacking certain items that were indispensable to his continued travels, and unfortunately, they were not items that could be found in the wilderness. And so, he had spent no more time than usual on his day-long walk from one town to the next, the sun just a tiny sliver peeking over the horizon, but instead walked further than usual, finding himself more and more apprehensive as the sight of houses and shops drew closer and closer.

As soon as his foot hit the flagstone street within the town itself, Bowser felt as if he'd entered another world. The sounds and smells were different, and even the air felt different. Shaking the daze free from his mind, Bowser set out immediately for a general store, which were always easily identifiable by the large mushroom on the signs outside their doors, and found it locked up for the night. "Damn," the koopa muttered to himself. He should have figured it would have been, but it didn't hurt him to hope. "Hey!" a voice called. Bowser turned toward it, and found a trio of the town's watchmen standing there. His muscles tensed slightly upon seeing their spears, but he decided that they probably wouldn't attack as long as he didn't make any hostile motions.

"What're you doing over here?" one of the watchmen asked. He appeared to be the one with rank in the group. Bowser shrugged his shoulders, replying, "I'm obviously not getting my shopping done." "Oh, a funny man, huh?" the toadstool said, "Well, funny man, why don't you get back over to your kind? And what's with those axes, huh? You got a permit for those?" Bowser could not say he cared for the watchman's tone of voice, but he was only doing his job, certainly. "They're for fighting," the koopa replied, "I wasn't aware I needed permission to carry them, since it was always implied that I could. If it's trouble you're concerned about, I'll give you none. I only need a few supplies and was hoping the shop hadn't closed yet." "That figures," the watchman said, "Well, get back to your quarter. It's east, in case you forgot, and I don't want to ever see you out here again, you got that?"

Now, Bowser was on the verge of anger. But, it wasn't worth the ire of the entire town. "Good night, gentlemen," he said, walking away from the trio and turning down the first street he found that went to the east. No watchman had ever been this rude to him before. It seemed to Bowser that a lot can happen in two years, especially if you aren't around. Glancing around as he walked, Bowser took note of the state of the town. It was in good repair, but it was obvious to him that no koopa had been working on these structures for some time; the workmanship was completely different. The streets could have used a good sweeping, but they were otherwise free of refuse. What struck him as slightly odd was that, aside from the watchmen, no one seemed to be out. In a town of this size, people would normally be out and about until the sun had gone completely down. His thoughts again changed themselves when he became aware that he was approaching a section of the town surrounded by a tall fence. It was made rather hastily from wooden planks, and Bowser knew from his years of experience that a fence like this, and especially one lacking an actual gate, would not keep anyone from climbing over it. Combined with the two toadstools standing guard just outside the apparent entrance, which was made from little more than a cattle gate, it was clearly meant only to be a casual deterrent. The koopa was liking the look of things less and less.

"Hey, what're you doing out here?" one of the guards demanded to know. "I only just arrived," Bowser replied. "Well, then get in there!" the other guard shouted, pointing past the cattle gate with his spear. The light immediately around them was poor, and Bowser figured they could not see he was armed because of it. He decided he'd best not call attention to himself, and quickly entered the gates when they were opened for him. The story of the town was very different on the other side. The lighting was even worse, with none being permanently installed, but despite the darkness, Bowser could immediately tell that the street was not paved and was covered with muck and likely garbage too. The smell would seem to indicate that. Prepared for a change, Bowser drew a simple oil lantern from his pack and lit it. Able to see now, Bowser was all the more shocked.

The craftsmanship of the buildings around him was rushed, shoddy and poorly-directed. It wouldn't take much more than a small earthquake to bring them down. The street was indeed unpaved, and contained garbage and other refuse Bowser preferred not to think about. As he walked, wide-eyed and stunned, he became aware that there were others out in this section of town. All of them were koopas, and all of them had obviously seen better days, thin and in poor shape. Although he had served as a mercenary, nothing he had ever seen could prepare him for any of what he was seeing now. In the next moment as he walked through the slum, he became acutely aware that one of the females he passed had taken a more than casual interest in him. "Goodness, aren't you a healthy one," she said, practically walking into Bowser's chest and curling her arms around his neck, "Better than I've seen in a long time. Why don't you come inside with me?" Bowser was completely stunned for several seconds, seconds that seemed like hours to him. All at once, something in him snapped and regained not only his composure, but also a familiar anger. Roughly grabbing the female's face with his hand, Bowser shoved her away, knocking her down into the muck. "Get away from me!" he shouted, "I won't tolerate your witchery."

The female was even more stunned now than Bowser had been only a moment ago, and it clearly showed on her face. Without giving her time to answer, he resumed walking down the street. If people were out and about, he reasoned, then it was likely a shop would still be opened and he could make his purchases and get out of this wretched place. "You know, you really, really shouldn't have done that." Bowser turned to the new voice and was confronted with another koopa, male this time, a few inches shorter than him with large, thick glasses that glinted in the light of Bowser's lantern. "Her boss is going to be mad at you," the short koopa continued, "He'll probably have you beaten up." "Let him," Bowser replied, "He won't find me an easy opponent." He continued walking, stopping after a few seconds and turning around to discover he had a follower.

"You're not from here," the short koopa said again, "I can tell because you're different than the rest of us. You're, kind of pushy." "I am my own self," Bowser said, "I will not be used or taken advantage of, and I will not poison myself here or anywhere." "Poison, huh? So, what, are you too good to be here with us? You think you're better than us?" the koopa asked. "If this is how you live," Bowser replied, "In this pit of, corruption, then yes, I am too good to be here and I am better than you." For a long time, the short koopa stood there, staring at Bowser from behind his glasses in shock, and also in awe. Finally, he extended his hand. "I'm Kamek," he said. Bowser was getting used to this sort of thing; apparently, there was just something about him that people occasionally found inspiring. Or irritating. So, he took the other koopa's hand and shook. "Bowser."

Kamek was just beginning to ask another question when a commotion caught the attention of both koopas. A small group was advancing towards them, making no secret of their approach. The female that Bowser had pushed down into the muck was apparently leading them. "That's him," she said, "The tall one." Bowser surveyed the group, quickly surmising that the koopa that was the biggest among them must be the "boss". When he stepped forward, it was almost certain. "So," he said, "You walk down my street and disrespect my woman. I don't appreciate that, one bit." In the lantern light, Bowser could see why he was in charge. He was one of the specimens subject to muscle-binding, and had a correspondingly huge physique. He looked like he could break another koopa in half, if he so desired. Bowser could also tell that Kamek was afraid, so he stepped in front of him, having never liked bullies to begin with.

"She walked into me," Bowser said, "And so she was the first one to throw around disrespect." The boss was not amused, drawing closer and attempting to use his bulk to intimidate the smaller Bowser into submission. "Oh, is that so?" he asked, "Maybe I'll just punish you half as much then." Finally at the end of his already frayed temper, Bowser did what no one, especially the boss, was expecting him to do. He raised his fist and sent it flying, and was rewarded with a crack as the larger koopa's nose broke. The stunned shock was immediately apparent, and left Bowser with plenty of time to calmly walk towards where he had entered the quarter. Not for nothing, he'd had more than enough of this nonsense. His shopping could wait for the morning, when these people would hopefully be less irritating. If he was lucky, he could go to the shop in the regular market and avoid them altogether.

Lucky that none of the koopa had tried to stop him, Bowser was less fortunate when he found his exit barred. "Hey, you're with your people now, you stay there," one of the gate guards informed him, holding a spear across the road to indicate that there would be no passage out. For years, Bowser had endured these insufferable mushrooms, and finally decided, at that instant, that enough was enough. In a flash, he grabbed ahold of the spear and, with both the sentries surprise, spun in a half-circle, using the first toadstool to bludgeon the other. Both we rendered unconscious or at least stunned, and that was enough. "Don't worry," Bowser said, "I'll be leaving your company now." And Bowser walked along the same path he had when he entered, running into no further difficulties and returning to the unsettled forest outside of the town.

Back in the solitude of nature, Bowser silently raged at his circumstances. He had done nothing if not given the toadstools his faithful service for as long as he could remember, taking the jobs even other koopas would not. If this was the manner in which they would repay him, it was obvious enough that they weren't deserving of his continued service. Bowser had no sooner reached this decision than he noticed, or at least felt, that he was not alone. Falling still except to draw an axe, Bowser listened to his surroundings. In his youth, he might have disregarded the subtle sounds of the woods, but now, in his experience and unease, he knew enough to notice everything. Slowly, he settled down into a crouch.

And then immediately sprang into a diving leap when he was halfway to kneeling. He spun as he dove, swinging his axe at a large form that had suddenly pounced at him from the foliage. The strangest of it, Bowser noticed as he rolled along the ground and hopped up into a combative stance, was that his axe felt as though it had hit air. He did not need to look around, for standing directly in front of him was a massive creature with leering eyes and sharp fangs. It's body looked as if it were made from stone and it was vaguely humanoid, with at least two arms and two legs, although it may have had more. It was the largest, anything that Bowser had ever seen. The beast growled, sounding like a rolling boulder, and stalked in a slow circle around the koopa, who stood his ground, unafraid and awaiting the first move from his opponent. The first move of battle came from neither of them.

Bowser, a voice rang from somewhere, Proud and noble warrior of the koopa. The last to hold to his true heritage. In short order, Bowser realized that the voice existed nowhere but in his own head. He was losing his mind, surely. Fear not the creature before you, for it is none other than I, Bellezar! The Spirit King of the Scarred Land! In an impressive but no less disturbing display, Bowser watched as the rock creature took what could have only a great bow. Somehow, Bowser managed to maintain his composure even in the face of this otherworldly monstrosity. You are unafraid? the beast Bellezar asked in his mind-speech. "Of you?" Bowser replied, "I've seen what perversions the lands to the east brings to good people. Tell me, are those the Scarred Lands you rule?"

They are, the great Bellezar said with a nod, Although they were not always. There was a time when the lands were not corrupted by the dark powers there, a time before that when they were, and still before that when they were untouched even by the koopa. This gave Bowser pause, as it was unfamiliar knowledge. He had known that the wastelands to the east were once green and more verdant than any lands in the west, he had known of no other states before that. You dream still, Bellezar continued, Of a united people, unoppressed by others and free to conduct their own affairs as their please? "Yes," was Bowser's only reply. Once, the koopa would work in harmony with the spirits to protect their tribes and to grow strong. Alas, we are mostly forgotten now.

"What do you want in return?" Bowser asked suddenly. The rock beast looked perplexed. What do you mean? it asked. "You've come here to offer your aid to me," Bowser said, "It's the only sensible explanation. But what do you want in exchange?" Voice sounding like stones crashing together, the Spirit King chuckled. The koopa do not remember us, and we are saddened because of it, he replied. "You want the koopa to remember you, then?" Bowser asked, "To honor you? Pray to you?" Before anything can be done, I cannot last long so far from my sanctum. I need a host to keep me, and the host I have chosen is you, Bowser.

Bowser took a step back from Bellezar. "I am nobody's host, chosen by you or anyone," he snarled defiantly. Bowser, I offer you more than simply another entity in your body, Bellezar replied, I offer you power. The power of the Scarred Land itself, and the knowledge of your ancestors' past, kept from your generation out of misguided fear. I offer you my service, if you will only remind your people of the bond they once shared with the spirits. To Bowser, this offer was the ultimate temptation, the perfect means to his end. But in his experience, he had learned that no offer was ever without strings, and never to be taken lightly. Carefully considering the potential consequences of his answer, the koopa finally spoke. "I accept."

The dark of the night was interrupted by a loud sound, like a rock slide or avalanche, a bright light and a sudden rush of uncharacteristically strong wind. As suddenly, as they had appeared, they subsided, and the sentries standing ready to keep the koopas in their own quarter wondered if it might be more than a freak lightning strike.