Mask Madness: Prologue
The Happy Mask Salesman smiled as he walked the cobbled streets of clock town. Children and adults alike gathered around him in the morning light, wishing to see and purchase his worlds renowned Happy Masks. That was to be expected, it was only three days until Termina's annual carnival of time after all. In fact, the crowds around him should have been larger, so swollen that he wouldn't have been able to take a step. Not so this year however, for some reason only a fraction of the town's population was present. The Happy Mask Salesman gently but firmly pushed away those who had gathered around him. Sadly business would have to wait. He had a very important mask to recover.
The Salesman was in fact searching for his young associate whom he had contracted to retrieve his mask. He had employed the boy only a few hours ago, and yet he sensed something had already gone wrong. The Salesman meant to correct that problem whatever it was. There was no time to waste after all, it was less than three days until he would need to leave. Thus he made his way to east clock town and entered a ramshackle inn with walls peeling like sunburnt skin. A young woman worked at the front desk. Like the salesman she had red hair. Unlike him she wasn't smiling.
"Oh hello…" she said absent mindedly as the salesman approached her. "Welcome to the Stock Pot Inn, can I help you?" His eyes instinctually went to the mask lying face up on the reception desk.
"That's Kafei's Mask isn't it." He remarked.
The woman perked up at that. "Why yes. Have…have you seen Kafei lately?"
"No." The Happy Mask Salesman answered curtly. He didn't even know who Kafei was. "I'm looking for someone. He's probably short and most definitely in green."
"Oh." she said slightly puzzled. "Do you mean Mr. Link? He checked in about an hour ago. He didn't say much, just took his key and went up to his room. He's in the second one from the right."
The Happy Mask Salesman bowed, leaving the young woman to her quiet despair. He went upstairs and gave the second door a knock. There was no answer. The door was locked, but he opened it anyway. Inside was a humble little room with light and bird song spilling in the open windowsill. There was a small breakfast table with scratches in its varnish and a fireplace that showed the black scoring of oft being lit. There were two small beds. The second of these contained the body of his young associate, wrists gashed open, probably by the bloody sword fallen to the floor beside him.
The Happy Mask Salesman gently closed the door behind him and walked over. He put his fingers to the boy's neck. No pulse. "How unfortunate." he sighed. "Now who will recover my mask for me?"
Just then the Happy Mask Salesman noticed on the little scratched up breakfast table an open book with a pen and inkpot next to it. He went over and examined the book. It was open to an incomplete page with many blanks behind it. It must have been a journal. The Salesman was intrigued. He swiftly shut the notebook before he could see any words that might ruin the ending. On the cover was an insignia of a lit bomb. The Happy Mask Salesman shouldered off his pack and sat down on the corner of the bed careful to avoid where it was stained with blood. He turned to the first page.