Chapter 3
The moon had swollen over the course of many days before shrinking back into the blackness of the night sky. For her childhood, Mizumi had been, as all heirs are, hidden in the darkness of ignorance, free to play in the vast main wing by herself, her parents watching from elsewhere using magic water droplets that extended their senses, the child playing no part in the governing of the kingdom (even for pretend’s sake). This was the year prior to her coronation, however, and Mizumi could feel her heart swell as the days wore on. She would spend hours in the ancient libraries, where not books but flasks and vials stood on countless shelves. Knowledge was stored in liquid medium and could be obtained merely by supping its contents. Her body overflowed it seemed with ancient tales of reptilian and amphibian ancestors, of humans and the first appearance of magic, of the King --.
Mizumi sighed as she stared at a painting of a hooded figure cloaked in the moonlight of a crumbling crystal palace set far away in a distant and color-saturated land. The years numbered more than the drops of water in the deepest ocean, but there had been a tall, handsome, striking King who somehow had obtained dominion over the entire Universe (though how he did so was a tale still untold). No one remembered his exact features: some said he was an elderly male all dressed in black, some said he was young and vibrant and over ten feet tall (though only the various Gorg Dynasties tended to say such things), and some said he was just some dwarf hiding in the swamps to avoid his subjects.
One day, during a banquet wherein feasted thousands of inhabitants of the universe, the King stole away and hid his crown, which had grown bigger with every passing year as the weight of his authority continued to make him buckle under the pressure, in a large sack, intending to destroy it, as he no longer wished to be King of the Universe. That would certainly lead one to believe the dwarf concept was the most accurate tale, but Mizumi’s heart knew he was most handsome, if perhaps his height was something of an exaggeration. No one knew what had become of the King’s various trappings, signs of his unending powers, but there came word from distant lands of large creatures, the Gorgs, claiming the King had entrusted them with such sacred objects.
None in the Underground believed such ignorant beasts could hold something so valuable, however….
As the sun began to set, Mizumi left the hallowed halls and toured a park rich in flowing flowered ivy and pastel-glowing butterflies flitting about as though a master puppeteer twitched invisible strings connected to their slender bodies.
An emaciated male with a pale expression staggered forth from behind a bush, gushes of putrid liquid bursting forth from his mouth. He coughed and fainted right in front of her.
Disturbed, Mizumi kept her distance and walked around the diseased fae. She nearly tripped on the lying figure of an elderly fae, bloated and sweating and panting unevenly.
Mizumi began to walk much faster, her heart racing in a strong desire to return to the comfort of her own bedroom. Before she could reach a waterfall that would take her to the main wing, a young female fae, dressed simply in dark pink, wept upon a boulder. The woman looked up and wiped her tears. “Milady, you must entreat your father for the citizens of Moraine,” she told the princess sadly.
Mizumi sat beside her. “What is happening?”
The woman shrugged. “Many of us were swimming in the lake. My husband is dying, Milady. As they say, he has ‘bitten off the toad’s warts’.”
Mizumi stared at her in disgusted confusion, backing away a few inches.
The woman shook her head. “Forgive me, Your Highness, for using such peasant terms, but the phrase means he has invited sickness into the house.”
“And toads are responsible?”
The woman shook her head. “No one knows, Your Highness, for all we did was swim casually in the lake, frolicking as is the habit of the commoners of Moraine. We could not see the lake pebbles glisten in the moonlight as is usual, but we felt there should be no concern. However, it seems everyone who has gone swimming has taken ill.”
“You seem healthy still,” Mizumi replied.
The woman nodded. “It was my task to watch for snakes, so I sat and ate some fruit in the high branches of a tree.” She grabbed Mizumi and embraced her in panic. “Oh, Milady – please seek out the King’s assistance!”
Mizumi ran to the nearest oyster half-shell and rode it high up the waterfall until she landed just near the boot-licking servant, who was arguing violently with an amphibious creature, like a toad but with a thin layer of shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a gaudy display of bright contrasting colors.
“Are you implicating my family?” hissed the female creature, puffing herself up to almost match the servant’s size. “Such an insult! Such a farce! The very idea! I demand a full apology from you, the King, and a private shoreline all to my family’s. I demand justice!” With that, she slapped the servant’s face and hopped clear off the boulder where the main wing resided, falling for several minutes before splashing hard into the waters of the lake below.
Mizumi walked up to the servant, frowning. “The toad committed suicide?”
He shook his head and turned from the princess, shrugging. “It is harder to squash the McMooch family than it appears. There is a danger in the lake of which the king must be made aware, Princess.”
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