Chapter Text
“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to do so well on the mission. I thought you would’ve tried to escape, or something.” Yung glances at a few sheets of paper on his desk. Wemmbu tries his best to make out the upside-down writing: Wemmbu Mission Report. “So, because of that, we’re going to get rid of the chains and you’re going to go on another mission in… 3 days. Also, the prison will be undergoing some construction, but you don’t need to worry about that. You know the drill - you can go back to making shields now. There’ll be more advanced work for you soon, don’t worry.”
The mission they want him to do is to get firework rockets. “A true test of your loyalty,” according to Yung. He sends Wemmbu to a grassy field next to a hill and tells him there’s a base. Oddly, they haven’t given him a book - maybe because Yung himself is there, instead of the usual players.
“Haven’t figured out the way in yet,” Yung says. Wemmbu almost retorts, but remembers the rules. Don’t talk. “I’ll be watching,” as he disappears.
Wemmbu walks up to the hill, eyes skimming over the surface. There’s a not-so-secret flat wall, obviously manmade. He taps on the wall hesitantly, then swings a little harder with his diamond pickaxe. The stone crumples beneath it, revealing an orange factory of some kind. Chests line the walls, dispensers click busily along, and bubble columns send items shooting up chutes. A familiar player is opening the chests. He recognizes the orange frog hybrid as Dione.
“Hmm? Oh - Wemmbu? Yo, bro, it's been such a long time, how are you?” Dione turns around, a smile creasing his face as he spots Wemmbu.
“Good.”
“How’s the empire doing?”
“It got blown up,” Wemmbu says tersely.
“Oh man, that sucks. But, if it makes you feel better, I still haven’t forgotten my life’s mission, bro. I’m still making these rockets.” He grins, picking up a handful from a chest to show Wemmbu. The grin slowly fades from his face as he catches sight of Wemmbu’s face. “So, like, why are you here?”
“Um, I’m going to need your rockets,” Wemmbu says reluctantly, almost nervously.
“I mean… sure, I guess. How many?” Dione doesn’t seem happy about it, but at least he’s willing.
“I need all of them.” Wemmbu chews on his bottom lip.
“All of them?” Dione’s eyes widen as he realizes what Wemmbu is asking. “…you’re joking. Wemmbu, I’m not giving you all of my rockets. Genuinely, this is just so many rockets - you don’t get it.” The frog hybrid laughs awkwardly. Don’t ask again. I don’t want to have to do this to you, his eyes read.
“I’m… not really asking, Dione,” he says apologetically.
“Wemmbu,” Dione sighs, his gaze disappointed, as if he expected Wemmbu to come to better. “Guards,” he yells.
Dropping down from the ceiling, the two guards quickly unsheath their swords and pot up in a useless attempt to look menacing. In return, he pulls out his own sword and smashes two potions on the ground, relishing the familiar fire of strength burning in his veins.
The first one lunges at him, but he sidesteps and parries their next blow. He backs up, baiting them into a chase, then slaps some cobwebs on the ground. They pour water, washing away the now-broken strands, but not fast enough - a wind charge propels Wemmbu into the air, and he’s smashing down on their skull before they can escape. A sword clangs against the bottom of his boots - looks like the second guard’s joined the fight - but it doesn’t matter, because guard #1 has just crumpled on the ground.
He lands on the glass floor, sweetness worming between his teeth as he chews on another golden apple. He manages to block a blow just in time, but he’s not lucky enough to avoid the guard’s spear; he wasn't expecting the sudden swapping of weapons. Diamond grazes his arm, leaving behind a shallow crimson cut. A bit of blood dribbles onto the polished glass beneath his feet as he crits the guard. A wind charge against glass, the metal thud of a mace hit, and then the second guard is dead.
He catches his breath and finishes off the golden apple. “So… Dione, I need your fireworks.” If he has to lose Dione to save Egg, so be it. He’d do the trade any day.
“Wemmbu, I’m not gi-”
“Well, well, well! You actually did it!” Yung steps through the hole in the wall, interrupting the frog hybrid. “Very, very good job, Wemmbu. I knew you’d do better. Now, I’m going to need you to watch over Dione, make sure he doesn’t escape.” He slaps a few shulkers on the ground, bringing out armfuls of rockets and dumping them in the shulkers. “That’ll do for now. Some people will come to pick up the loot soon. In the meantime, you’re going to have to watch over Dione. It’ll only be a few hours until the bottom feeders arrive. Okay?” At Wemmbu’s nod, he grins. “Great. I’ll be back soon.” Don’t try anything while I’m gone, is left unsaid but understood.
The two former friends sit in silence for a few uncomfortable minutes. Wemmbu fidgets nervously with his (well it’s not really his) mace.
“So, you’re working for that Yung guy.”
Wemmbu nods mutely.
“Why?” The click of redstone machines, working obliviously away beneath them, fills the silence between the two, distancing them. Clacking machines powered by blood forcing them apart, no chance of ever reconciling. “I thought you wanted to be an empire ruler, or something.”
When Wemmbu doesn’t answer, Dione slumps against an empty chest. “I guess people change. You don’t even talk the same anymore.
“You could’ve just asked, you know,” he says, with the air of someone trying to fill the silence. “If you really want rockets, I would’ve given you a few stacks. What would you even do with that many double chests?” He falls silent, staring at nothing.
“That was my whole life, Wemmbu. You don’t get it. I - that was what I did for months on end. And you - you just took it.” Wemmbu gives Dione the courtesy of looking away as the other sniffles. There’s nothing left to say now. There’s nothing he can say. Actions speak louder than words. They lapse into silence.
“Guys, guys, look, there’s a lot of fireworks here so I’m going to need you to pack it all up and you three are going to have to guard Dione.” Yung’s distant voice breaks through the stillness in the abandoned base. Wemmbu hauls himself to his feet, legs protesting.
“Oh, Wemmbu! You’re still here! Very, very good.” A dozen players, armored in leather and iron, follow him. They bustle around, opening chests, placing shulkers, and moving rockets. So these are the bottom feeders, Wemmbu notes in his mind. “Good to see you didn’t escape. So, you’re going to have to go back to the prison now, and I’m going to supervise these players. Um… you, and you,” Yung says, pointing at two avian hybrids, “go follow Wemmbu back to the base and bring the good news.”
“Right, Yung told me to bring you to Arachnid. Since he’s busy, Arachnid’s gonna be the one doing stuff here for a little bit.” One of the avians speaks up. “So, just follow me.”
Arachnid is sitting on Yung’s usual chair. “Wemmbu. You’ve done really well on these missions so far, so we - Yung and I - have decided that you’ll be on a very important mission next time. You should probably be on your best behavior if you want Egg to live,” he says pointedly. “We’ve also decided to give you some more advanced work. Take him to the enchanting setup,” he orders the avian.
‘Advanced work’, apparently, is enchanting pieces of armor. It’s soothing, mind-numbing work. Relaxing. He can ease into the flow of glinting green orbs, lose himself in the river of shimmering diamond and translucent lapis. His dreams are filled with a blue-green ocean, a never-ending plain of peace.