Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Mario or its franchise; it belongs to
Nintendo and their affiliates. I just am really grateful to its creators for giving
me such a wonderful game and media series to write about!
I also don't own anything related to Harry Potter, all that belongs to J.K. Rowling,
but thanks go to her as well because, using her wonderful work, I can expand this
story to make it more interesting.
I also don't own anything related to Naruto if you see me throw a little of that, too.
Chapter Thirteen
Contrary to the seasoned men and women I'd seen on the first day arriving here in Chai, these soldiers I was supposed to lead were all in my own age group and I swear that walking through those doors into the mess hall was like walking into my high school cafeteria with no place to sit. All eyes were on me. And that was another thing; there were various-colored eyes staring at me as I nervously made my way to the front of the hall. The noise dimmed more and more with each step I took and the longer I walked, the more heads swiveled in my direction. It got so quiet that I could hear the footfalls of my trainers clearly resounding off the wooden walls. I tried to focus on the space ahead of me, not at the people. But then, once I reached the front of the room, I had nowhere else to go. So I kinda' half-stood half-leaned on the wall in between the two windows: one on my left was where people got the food, and the one on my right was where empty trays were dropped off. Now, with my hands shoved into my pockets, I had no choice but to acknowledge the others in the room.
"Uh," I started, but then lost my nerve.
Zair said just get to know them, I reminded myself.
And they looked to be an interesting lot, even going by just looks alone. Strange eye colors, skin tones, and height differences that seemed out of place in Chai. Harkening back to the troops I first saw, there was a certain uniformity I came to associate with the kindom; but these troops were an exception. They looked like the people version of a bag of jelly beans, like someone had screwed around with a paint-by-numbers picture of the human race. The only thing the men and women had in common here were their ages, or at least the appearance of such. I had no way of knowing if they were truly all in their twenties/early thirties until I asked. And about that; I'd been standing for several seconds on end, this had breached the point of awkwardness. It was time I said something. Actual words, I mean.
"So um." I started, hating the sound of my voice in the quiet hall. "My name's Luigi Mario and I guess I'll be leading you from now on."
"We know who you are."
I glanced almost too quickly in the direction of that voice. It'd been masculine and had come from the left side of the room, near the front. I found a young man with his eyes on me and alight with interest. Like the others who sat at the long wooden tables on the sides facing the entrance doors, he'd turned in his chair so that he was looking fully at me. He had his elbows on the table behind him and his legs wide open with his head tilted back a little. That body language alone told me I was dealing with another ego-type like Roy or, to a lesser degree, the old king. Not to mention that, but the guy looked like one of those Greek athletes from my old history textbooks: curly black hair, bronze skin, sinewy muscles stretched over a slight frame with large dark eyes.
"You know me?" I asked him.
He shifted and I wondered why he wasn't wearing a shirt, just a pair of brown pants tucked into black boots. Then I saw that most of the others were dressed similarly; in the womens' cases, they wore what resembled some kind of sports bra-crop top hybrid with the same pants and boots. And all of these people were sweaty, like they'd just worn a marathon...no, like they'd showered. That made sense. It was evening, after all, and I assumed they slept here in this base camp area.
But wait; how do they know me? I don't even remember coming to Chai before...maybe I did, but if so I didn't stay long.
"You're the plumber Mario's brother." the same guy told me.
Right, the sidekick
"What's your name?" I asked the 'Greek'.
"Troy, sir."
How ironic
"You don't have to call me sir," I immediately responded.
He shrugged and said, "Yes I do. You're our Commander, aren't you?"
"Right," I nodded, "So um."
I was at a loss again and the troops weren't the kind of young people to start murmuring amongst themselves. No, they just gazed at me with those aloof expressions as if waiting for me to speak again. I got the feeling they were expecting an actual leader who knew what they were doing and just took charge, not one of their own peers bumbling around like a fish floundering on land. In fact, that's how they were watching me; like one would a dying fish. Just watching me veritable flop around in silent social ineptitude. Fortunately, something came to mind.
"Do you have any questions for me?" I blurted.
And then I leaned on the wall behind me and gave myself a mental pat on the back. Why struggle with oration when I could just let them do all the work? I saw Troy get up suddenly and take a chair from the table he was sitting at. He dragged the empty wooden seat over to me and flashed a quick smile before taking his seat once more. From the other side of the room, I heard someone snort and mutter something that sounded like 'kiss-ass', followed by the sound of soft snickers.
Yeah, this definitely reminds me of high school.
I looked over at Troy and gave him an appreciative nod before taking a seat. It turned out that many people had questions because a few hands shot in the air when I asked again if they had something to ask me. The first person I called on was a girl with brown skin that seemed to have more hair than body.
"Is it true you hit the Dark King?" She asked in a soft but clear voice.
I blinked, not expecting that, and answered, "Um. Yeah. I did a few times. I mean we fought, if that's what you're asking."
"No," Another female spoke up. "There's a rumor that you knocked him the fuck out. What she's asking is whether that's true or not. Is it?"
"No."
"But you did hit him?"
"We fought," I repeated.
It got louder in that room as people began to talk gently amongst themselves. I noticed that the female who was speaking had long violet hair and didn't bother raising her hand before voicing her inquires.
"Did you win?" She wanted to know, her black eyes eager. "Did you beat his ass? Did you kill him?"
"Portia..."
That had come from the brown-skinned girl who was sitting near the one with violet hair. Portia, as she'd been called, rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair with her arms folded. Her skin was white as milk and stood out all the more against that of the girl beside her. The brown-skinned girl shook her head a bit in disapproval and then voiced a question of her own.
"Did you kill him?" She asked in that same steady tone.
"No." I told her, wondering how a rumor of me knocking Bowser out could have been started.
I did recall hitting him on several occasions, but I'd never knocked him out. Nor did I kill him. I didn't peg Chai as a place that would circulate that kind of information, but it was the Dark King we were talking about, and he was kind of everybody's enemy so the word would probably spread that somebody was standing up to him. Not even Chai bothered contesting him if my memory served correctly, and this was before the Great War. So I guess yeah, me hitting him would be a big deal.
Though not as much as Mario...well, let's not get into that anymore, it's no contest, and I'm not sure I'd want my brother's level of fame and infamy, since just as many strangers tended to hate you for your name as those that love you for the same reason.
"So he's on the loose, then?" I heard Troy ask.
I glanced over at him and nodded. "Yeah. But hopefully we'll be taking him down for good this time around."
"How?" The woman Portia frowned. "Didn't you and your brother try to do that like, a thousand times already?"
"Isn't he supposed to be invincible?" Another, new voice asked. "Or immortal? Or both?"
I said, "I don't know, but he can be brought down."
"How?" Somebody in the back wanted to know.
I shrugged and said, "I honestly don't know. But we'll think of something."
The level-headed young woman next to Portia asked, "How did you do it the first time?"
"Excuse me?" I frowned.
"Everybody thought the Dark King was dead a little while ago." The brown girl spoke. "How did you accomplish that?"
"With help," I answered. "But...he wasn't really dead."
And the whole world can thank an egotistical, arrogant little punk for that, I noted with a touch of cynicism.
"What do you mean?" That same girl asked.
First I asked, "What's your name?"
"...Lise-Marie, sir." She replied.
I nodded and knew I probably wouldn't remember their names, but at least I'd remember the most vocal of the group.
In answer I told her, "If you remember somebody named Ludwig, he was responsible for keeping the king alive instead of killing him like we all thought."
"Ludwig?" A young man that looked more like the Michelin Man after a million spray tans asked. "You mean that blue-haired bloke?"
"That's the one." I answered, surprising myself with the lack of negative emotion laced in that reply.
"Why did he keep the king alive?" Troy asked, his dark brow furrowed. "He always talked about how he was gonna' kill him."
What he says and what he does are two very different things, I'd learned in hindsight.
Aloud I said, "I can't begin to tell you why he did what he did. But long story short, the Dark King is out there now, but without his powers because Ludwig stole them."
"What?"
"You can do that?"
There was more buzzing at this bit of news, and I could understand it. This wasn't something I could totally convey while remaining objective because of all the things Daisy and I had gone through, so I was leaving out a lot of stuff and that was probably confusing.
Somebody asked, "Where is he?"
"The King?" I asked.
"Ludwig," They clarified.
I shrugged.
"Whose side is he on?"
"His own," I responded frankly.
"Is he coming back?"
Hopefully not
"I don't know." I said. "I wouldn't worry about him, though. He's got his own agenda."
And he's more trouble than he's worth as an ally
More talking ensued until the violet-haired girl leaned forward onto the table and asked me something interesting.
"So is it true that Bowser...that he's changed forms since the Great War?"
"Yeah," I nodded.
"So he's not a giant, hulking, slimy beast anymore?" She then asked.
No, just a giant, hulking, slimy, dick-faced turd, I filled in.
Aloud I said, "He's more humanoid now."
"And how did he change forms?"
"Magic." I answered. "He was cursed during the war, along with a ton of other people, like my friend Peasley."
"Prince Peasley?" Someone asked.
Then came the inevitible question of, "Are you two-"
"No." I dispelled quickly.
"That is, are you-"
"No we are not."
There was a wave of what sounded like skeptic musing going on throughout the room. I didn't even realized how far Peasley's antics, and the word thereof, could spread.
If only I'd known from the beginning what that friendship would do for my reputation...
'"What does the Dark King look like now?" Troy asked, getting back on track.
"Like a man."
It would seem Troy was no more excited to venture down that line of conversation than I was.
Thankfully.
I got enough of that from the Prince of Fashion himself
"What kind of man?" Portia then inquired, her eyes as intense as the old General's I'd been spending so much time around.
In answer I said, "He just looks like a regular man. I mean, he's got muscles and red hair and green eyes and...yeah."
"Is Bowser weaker in this humanoid form?" Lise-Marie asked, pushing some coarse black hair behind her ear. It just fell back to frame her face in the next second.
I pondered her question and said, "For the most part."
He wasn't a huge, indestructible reptile anymore. When he was that big, it was hard taking him down. But there were times that Bowser was so big Mario and I could run circles around him and his delayed-reaction reflexes. But even though he was smaller now, he still had precise control over fire and had strength that wasn't to be taken lightly. However, between his ego and his blinding obsession for certain females, he often created his own handicaps that were relatively easy to exploit. So, give or take, he was manageable in this form.
Yeah, but considering he's still alive, how manageable is he, really?
A man who sat about three heads taller than everyone else raised his hand humbly into the air. He had a much deeper voice than I would've thought, and spoke quietly when I acknowledged him.
"If the Dark King is so hard to kill, and if he's on the loose, then how are we to ever take him out?"
"We gotta' hunt him down first," Troy suggested.
"Yes." I nodded.
"Then we just gang up on him with swords and wear him down until he gives." He then added.
"No." I shook my head. "That's not a good idea. Right now we don't know if he'll be alone or if he'll have something up his sleeve. Let's just take this step by step."
And even if we did, just popping up and whalin' on him isn't so wise. I still don't know how much he can physically endure.
Well, there was one thing I knew; he couldn't handle gunfire. One shot could seriously injure him, so if I could get every single troop here outfitted with one, we might have a chance at really bringing him down.
That's not to say he hasn't already done something to defend himself from guns; if he got hurt so badly before, I'd imagine he would do something to protect against it...or, considering his massive ego, maybe not. it's hard to say.
My best bet would be to get ahold of some guns just for good measure.
That means I'll have to talk to my brother. And it also means these troops will have to be trained in arms dealings; speaking of that...I'm supposed to find out what more training they need.
I remembered what else Zair advised and thought back to my own experiences with the former dastardly king.
I asked, "By show of hands I guess, who's been locked up?"
Several hands rose and I seriously doubted we were on the same page.
I rubbed my knees and elucidated. "Who's been locked up for something serious; like a prisoner of war."
All hands dropped so I had to assume their greatest offense was on par with pissing in the streets or defacing public property.
"Were you a prisoner of war?" Lise-Marie asked, looking a bit intrigued.
I nodded and said, "Sort of. Have any of you been interrogated?"
Hands rose.
"I mean by someone important, like a villain on the same level as Bowser." I explained.
Hands fell. Again, I assumed this meant they'd come as close to interrogation as their parents giving them the third degree for coming in late at night with red in their eyes, or some kind of Chai equivalent of that.
"Have any of you had any survival training? Like living off the land for an indeterminate amount of time?" I asked, because there were stints of me and my brother spending weeks in hostile territory with no signs of civilization for miles on end.
No hands even rose this time. I guess this meant they'd never been camping, save for their time here in this military base.
"And has anybody ever had any combat training?" I asked.
Mostly males rose their hands, with the addition of Lise-Marie and Portia and a red-haired young woman.
"Have you trained in fighting against people with superhuman abilities?" I asked.
This made all the hands go back down. Except for Portia. I would ask about that later. I was getting tired.
For now, though, I had a good idea of what that 'further instruction' that Zair talked about would consist of. The only thing to do now would be to talk to the old General and hope he wouldn't set me up with instructors that were ten times as crazy as him.
This was different. The morning was a little colder, a little darker. Things weren't just drab and dreary, like in Easton; no, this was more intensely grim. This whole area, the shores of West Muda, that is. Daisy and her entourage and crew arrived right before dawn, like they had in the other two kingdoms, but this time things just seemed dead.
Not that I would have expected a party, the ruling princess thought wryly as she stepped from her horse. She'd rode in to this kingdom and thus had to straighten her cloak and hair. Her hand shook as she untangled her thick dark locks: it was chilly enough to notice here. Daisy blinked against a particularly strong breeze and rubbed her covered arms.
The troops with her didn't need any instruction, they started setting up the long tables and equipment while others went to go and alert the citizens.
They really should already be here, Daisy noted to herself. I've already been to two kingdoms, they had to know I was coming.
And yet, after the food was well on its way to being done and the tables were all stacked with neat piles of clothing and aid, no one came. Not a single person. A half hour passed after that, and then an hour. Still no one came.
What's going on, Daisy wondered to herself.
She came to sit down at the middle of the table, ready to give away bundles of clothes and bowls of food with a smile. But still no one showed up.
One of the scouts approached Daisy at the table and bowed before speaking. Under the helmet there was a man's uncertain face peering back at the princess.
He asked, "Should I have my team do another run through the cities?"
Daisy nodded but her mind was elsewhere.
She was beginning to have doubts. Would anyone even come? She wasn't sure. She thought back to the first day in Easton, how the people slowly but surely trickled in once they smelled food and heard about the charity going on near the statues. They had come, eventually, so the people here would come eventually, too, right?
Right? Daisy asked herself unsurely.
Maybe they're upset with me. I can't say I blame them, if that's the case, She thought. Her gaze zeroed in on the temporary tablecloth covering the area in front of her. She was tempted to draw nervous spirals in the material, but she instead lifted her eyes and sat erect in her seat, opting to act as a strong and poised dignitary among her troops. She didn't want them to lose morale.
Tch, as if that would stop them from doing their work.
The scouts came back, alone and avoiding their ruler's gaze, but the people did come. A full three hours later. By then Daisy was freezing cold and more than a little irritated. She didn't know whether she was angry at the people for waiting so long to come or relieved that they even came at all. She stood and greeted the newcomers with a tired but genuine smile.
"Good morning," she greeted, then stopped because she abruptly saw someone she knew.
It was an older man, someone her father used to have over. She would say he was a relative if she were more certain but as it was, she couldn't remember. Every time this old man came to the palace for a visit, he'd disappear with her father to 'talk politics' and she would be promptly shooed away to go find something to do with herself. After the man left, her father would take her into his arms and she'd pester him about what was said between them. Her father only told her it wasn't worth repeating.
Daisy blinked upon seeing the man again and vaguely realized she'd been staring longer than was necessary or polite. Not recalling his name, she just inclined her head and smiled a little. When the man locked eyes with her and sneered, that smile tightened.
Did he just...
But the man was moving over to where the food was at the start of the long set of tables. Daisy noticed a few things about the man while he walked. First of all, he appeared to be doing pretty well. He wore clean white clothes that fit nicely over a frame that was burly and taut with faint muscles. His hair and beard were clean-cut and a healthy shade of dark brown with streaks of grey. His skin was relatively clear, though wrinkled, and his eyes were just as black and hard as she remembered from her childhood. Another thing she noticed was that he was obviously the reason why the rest of the people, and there were many but only a fraction of the total population, had come at all. They followed behind him, cast furtive glances his way, Daisy then saw the older man sneer at the pot of food before picking up a bowl. No, that's too platonic a word; he snatched it from the table with a look of disgust. That look only deepened when he brought some of the food to his mouth, then contorted with the narrowing of his eyes as he spat it right back out into the bowl, the slammed said bowl onto the table. Looking dead at the princess, he wiped his mouth very slowly with the back of his hand and couldn't seem to put enough malice in that glare of his. Some of the troops cast glances of their own at the ruler, tacitly seeking her permission to put the elder in his place. Daisy shook her head slightly and gazed back at the man.
"It's cold, Princess." He said without masking his derision.
It would have been cold if you would have gotten here earlier, Daisy growled in her mind. But she kept her perfectly civil expression in place and even forced a smile.
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience." Daisy told him.
But the man only remarked, "Hm. That you are, I'm afraid."
"Excuse me?" Daisy frowned.
Living on her own for so long left her temper unchecked. She wasn't used to stifling her emotions anymore, she hadn't had to do that since she was a little girl. And, living in New York, dealing with the rudest people on the planet every now and again had also nurtured her sharp tongue. She was grateful that 'excuse me' was all she'd said in this instance.
The people behind the man began murmuring, presumably because their 'leader' had been called out. The man didn't even look chagrined in the slightest. He seemed to hold himself that higher, even, as he replied.
"You said it yourself, Princess. You're sorry." He said around a grimace. "A sorry excuse for a ruler. This is what your father has left us? A little girl to play about in things she can hardly understand?"
He spoke with such condescension is startled Daisy out of whatever retort she had at the ready. She didn't think people would recieve her this negatively. Well, in her deepest of fearful scenarios she had anticipated much worse, but she didn't think this would actually happen.
Why does he despise me? He doesn't even know me! Wait...he mentioned my father... Daisy began to put things together.
"What do you have against my father?" She asked evenly.
She already knew the answer, but flinched anyway when the onslaught came.
"Your father was a coward and a fool!" The man sneered. "A coward to leave his country like a thief in the night in its time of need and a fool to bar me from the throne!"
And the unspoken end to that was, 'there! I said it!'.
He gazed defiantly at the princess as if challenging her to contest his words and Daisy measured her next ones carefully. On the one hand, this man was aggravating her, between his speaking ill of her beloved father and his brazen disrespect towards her. But on the other hand, she had an obligation to be the bigger person, being the ruler and all.
So she said, "My father did what was best for his family-"
"To hell with the lot of us." The man griped.
Daisy's brow twitched and she pressed her mouth shut to take in air through her nose before releasing it slowly through her lips.
Calmly she responded, "I recognize that his decision may not have been the best, but my father died fighting a war that was much bigger than the one back home."
"And that atones for his betrayal?" The man challenged.
The people behind him exchanged hushed words and meaningful glances in response to these accusations and the progressing debate. Daisy knew her authority was being flagrantly mocked at this point; it was treason to speak ill of the royals, especially in the presence of said royals. But it was up to the royals to decide how soon and how severely the offender would be punished. Daisy had more to say to this man.
She told him, "I know my father abandoned this country to protect my mother, my cousins and I. And I know that was a selfish decision. But if he hadn't chosen to do that, I wouldn't be here right now-"
"Is your life more important than those that have been slain?!"
"Let me finish!" Daisy snapped. "If I hadn't been around, the Dark King wouldn't have been defeated and this country would be doomed and there would have been a whole lot more casualties than Tatanga's reign could have ever accomplished."
And that seemed to sober the man.
He glanced at the people behind him and his gaze silenced the hum of their whispers. But he was still sneering when he gazed at the princess.
"Yes, I've heard of your hand in the Dark King's demise." He spoke. "You say you defeated him, yet your lover's been commissioned to lead troops against him. Will they be fighting a dead man?"
"He's still alive," Daisy spoke, "But that's not because of me. If I'd had my way, there wouldn't be anything left of that fu-...of him."
"And yet he lives." The man countered. He said, "Princess, in slighting him you've only put this country in danger. Now you've made us a target. How then, are we to be grateful for your being spared over our countrymen?"
Daisy let that sink in and opened her mouth to refute what he'd said, but he'd sown seeds of doubt. She had those fears inside, the ones that told her she was to blame for the Dark King being alive and on the loose. If only she hadn't blindly trusted Ludwig, if only she'd actually repaid the evil, black-hearted tyrant blood-for-blood and had ended his life when she had the chance. She did feel like it was her fault, and hearing this man blame her only renewed and strengthened that guilt and frustration. She balled her fists and glanced up to tell the man that it wasn't fair to pin this all on her, though, that this wasn't all her fault, that she was just as irate about the situation as he was, but the man was already walking away with the rest of the people in tow. He hadn't even taken any clothing or aid, and, like sheep, neither had the rest of the people.
"Come back." Daisy ordered.
"Why should we?" The man barked. "There is nothing we want from you."
"Why don't you let them speak?" Daisy felt her anger bubbling to the surface, smothering her will to remain cool-headed.
"I speak for them,"
"By what authority?"
"By my own!" He seethed. "I stepped up as a leader when they had none! It was I who led them to safety when Tatanga provoked the quakes and tsunamis with his alien technology. It was I who rallied the able among us to protect the people your father neglected! And by that authority, I speak for us all and say we will follow your laws and do your will as our ruler, but we want nothing to do with your hospitality, Princess."
And this time, she let them leave.
Daisy slumped back in her seat, wholly dejected with how the day had played out. She couldn't have predicted a bigger fail. Beside her, one of the soldiers stirred and vyed for her attention. She granted it to them with a nod but kept her head downcast.
"Should we call them back?"
Daisy knew she'd be well within her rights to force them all to come back and to force them to take the aid and to force them to hear her speech she'd prepared, but what was the point?
Why make them take it if they don't want it, she shrugged. Why make them listen to a speech neither of us believe in? Why push this issue when it's clear they're against me.
Whatever he wanted, that man, he'd gotten it. Power, influence; what her father denied him, he'd taken in the king's absence, at least to an extent. These people obeyed him and so Daisy knew to get to them, she'd have to go through him. It wouldn't be right to simply jail him, for he obviously came through for the people where her father could not. But that didn't mean she'd let him walk all over her. Something had to be done about this. But not today. This wasn't an issue that could be solved overnight.
"Pack everything up. We'll leave in the morning."
If anyone's still reading, please review. That's all I ask. I just want confirmation that people are still reading this, if not I'll just let this story go altogether because it's getting harder and harder to update and I just want to know I'm not doing these chapters for nothing. If you're reading and you want me to continue, just let me know. Thanks.
~DymondGold~