Chapter Text
Loud whoops, shrieks and giggles rang through the early morning air, rousing Phil from his sleep. He moved his wing away from his face and squinted at the trio of crows perched on the chest next to his bed roll. They squinted back.
How he'd managed to get the three quietest crows to serve as his morning wake-up call, he didn't know.
All it took was a cursory glance to realize everyone else was up, and probably out causing the racket. Phil rubbed at his face with a sigh, then changed into the day's clothes and walked out to the water pump to quickly freshen up before he joined them.
It wasn't at all hard to find the group. Between the unending noise and his crows (who were constantly flying up into the sky then diving down), Phil had rounded the tail of the cobra and found them easily. What took him far longer was understanding just what he was seeing.
Foolish was sitting cross-legged in the centre, laughing openly and loudly in a way Phil hadn't heard or seen in ages. He had a small basket next to him, but Phil couldn't see what was inside—although it was probably raw gold nuggets, judging by the sparse but organized line of Foolish's small worker beings passing handfuls of just that to deposit into the basket. Eret was sitting across from Foolish, grinning and watching as Tubbo and Ranboo scrambled around. The two teens were throwing things up in the air and the crows seemed to be catching whatever it was-
A crow fluttered down to Phil, landed on his shoulder, and dropped a gold nugget in his palm.
Phil blinked, then looked back up as everyone cheered.
A little golden creature- wait, no. It was Junior, tumbling around Ranboo's legs and tripping over Tubbo's feet, squealing and flapping his tiny little wings, waving a particularly large piece of raw gold. Then the toddler plopped down on the dusty cobble and chomped away at the metal tidbit.
A glittering gold nugget tumbled through the cawing flock of crows, and another cheer broke out as Foolish deftly caught it in his mouth. The god let out a whoop, but caught Phil's eyes and his smile immediately faded.
Phil stiffened. Maybe he shouldn't be here, he should give Foolish space-
Then Foolish leaned back on his hands and offered him a grin.
Phil could tell there were some complex emotions hidden behind that smile, but it was still a genuine smile—more than he'd received from Foolish for days.
Eret turned and raised a hand. "Hey, good morning Phil! There's some breakfast waiting for you over there. We've all eaten, take what you need."
He sat with the rest of the group and ate breakfast eagerly, sometimes joining in on the conversations (and always cheering when someone caught a gold nugget), but not taking too much time away from the food. He could tell the… the doozers? He was pretty sure that’s what they were called, and he could tell they had fixed up the breakfast because every bite was near-about perfect. The egg toast was golden-brown, the apples were crisp and sweet, and the cheese wasn’t greasy despite the heat. Even the water was welcome and refreshing, although Phil preferred washing food down with a good cup of ale.
At one point Junior wandered over and held out his little golden hands, clearly asking Phil to hold him. Since Foolish was watching and didn't look at all concerned, Phil set down his plate and took the young child into his arms. Junior grinned toothily and placed a hand on Phil's cheek, then babbled something that made Phil instantly regret picking Junior up.
"Aww, he likes you!" Foolish cooed.
"What language was that?" Tubbo asked.
Phil was starting to feel remorse for having eaten all that delicious food so quickly. "That was in Godspeak," he croaked. "Junior just said my soul looks tasty."
Tubbo and Ranboo both just laughed. Foolish was also clearly amused, but Phil guessed it was more by his reaction than by anything else. Eret, at least, had the decency to look almost as unsettled as Phil felt.
Phil set Junior down, and stared at his remaining food.
He was still hungry, even after that.
Once the doozers had collected Phil’s empty plate, Foolish drew Phil aside with a light touch to his shoulder, not quite meeting his gaze. Phil looked to Eret, who gestured for him to go with a nod. The rest of the group were already heading up to the temple courtyard, Junior clinging onto Ranboo’s leg as the lanky teen hobbled behind a cackling Tubbo.
Phil followed Foolish, and they both came to a stop alongside the flank of the cobra structure.
"Phil, I…" Foolish paused. "I have a lot of things to say, and I want- I need to start with-"
"If you're about to apologize, mate, don't." Phil crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the shark totem. "There's no reason for you to."
Foolish laughed softly, a little bitterly, and shook his head. "Phil, I nearly killed you. Don't brush that off. Don't give me an out. And don't say I had no control over my actions—even if that was true, it shouldn't mean I can't be held accountable. There were so many choices I made before that night that led to me hunting you."
"But you weren't in control," Phil protested. "I saw it, I… I was an idiot and I challenged your rights to the kill. You reacted. It was all instinct."
Foolish met his gaze and studied him for a long moment. "One way or another, I'm always in control, Phil." His lips curled, but there was no amusement behind the expression. "What you saw was who I am when I don't care. It’s easy to call that “losing control.” Easier for me; easier for everyone. Maybe you've experienced that personally, too. You're what, a few thousand years old?"
Phil shrugged, frowning. "I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I've lost count."
"We've both lived long enough to see—really see—how much or how little effect a simple action can have. Death can change so little. It can also change the entire course of history. But either way, what does it matter, when you'll simply outlive it all?"
Phil swallowed and looked away. He wasn't going to admit it, but he knew Foolish was right. There had been times—some not too long ago—when he'd cared very little about the lives he might have been affecting. He might've been ending.
"You understand." It wasn't a question, and there was a measure of sadness in Foolish's voice.
"Yes," Phil replied softly. He looked up. "And I accept your apology."
Foolish blinked. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. And I hope you'll accept mine."
"Phil, you don't-"
Phil scoffed and raised his eyebrows. "We've both lived long enough, Foolish, to know that blame should never fall on a single party. If you're saying you should have done better, then so am I. We both made mistakes, we both fucked up. You were hurting and I couldn't help—and I didn't do much to get you help. So I'm sorry, too."
Foolish looked at him, then smiled. "Thank you, Phil. And thank you for the help you did give me. Thank you for listening, and for being here."
"Sure thing, mate," Phil mumbled, but he returned Foolish's smile with one of his own. "And it's great seeing you so much better. Now… I think you have a sparring session to attend?"
Foolish sighed heavily, and his shoulders slumped. "Yeah." He flashed a sharp grin at Phil. "Maybe you'd like to do the next one. I promise I won't try to kill you again."
Phil sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Mmm… don't know about that one, Foolish. Maybe I'll take you up on it once your rut is all out of your system."
Foolish snickered and patted him on the shoulder. “Sure thing, old man.”
Phil rolled his eyes at him. “I’m practically a child compared to you,” he groused, “why am I still called the oldest here.”
Foolish just laughed as he started to walk towards the temple courtyard.
. . .
Ranboo was an interesting sparring partner, Foolish decided as he blocked the next strike from the enderman child. For someone so young, not even three decades old, he was remarkably skilled. He also seemed to switch between a couple of fighting styles—not techniques, but rather his behaviour changed. Sometimes he was defensive and calculated, only to change it up a few minutes later to a fighter who moved with pure instinct. It made Foolish all the more glad he had a handle on his rut today, and that they were only doing simple drills again.
When Eret called for a break, Ranboo smiled at Foolish and inclined his head. “You fight well,” he said in Ender.
Foolish dipped his head in return. “As do you, Warrior,” he replied, smiling at the pleased surprise that crossed Ranboo’s face at the title Foolish had used for him.
After the brief break for water, Foolish waved off Ranboo’s offer for round two. He had a lot to catch up on, and he wanted to get a start on some of it—especially the preparations for the Red Banquet. Before his rut had disrupted all his plans he’d mostly finished sorting out his attire for the event, but he did have the engravings to finish for the pocket watches he wanted to give to a few of his friends. He also needed to bottle some ambrosia. He couldn’t forget that.
(As much as he wanted to believe the egg people were truly ‘turning over a new leaf,’ he wasn’t going into that banquet blindly trusting them.)
The day passed quickly, full of busy little tasks he threw himself into with cheer, a healthy number of breaks interspersed between them. He spent a lot of time with Junior, too; his son was starting to learn some Common on top of the Godspeak he already knew, and at some point Tubbo joined them. He had a knack for teaching languages to a child.
(Foolish was sure both Tubbo and Ranboo sorely missed Michael, who was still back in Snowchester with Tommy looking over him. He made sure to suggest setting up a playdate between the two children—after the Banquet of course, and the time and day was always their choice.)
Later that evening Eret found him in one of the rooms under his temple, leaning over a large drafting table with a piece of graphite and a ruler.
“What’re you drawing up now?” Eret asked from the doorway, voice soft and muffled by the rows and rows of shelves holding old and dusty blueprint scrolls, and bookcases that were stuffed full of volumes in every language.
Foolish looked up and smiled. He stepped to the side and gestured Eret over. “You’re welcome to take a look. I’d started the plans a month ago, but… obviously, haven’t been able to work on it again until now.”
Eret walked over and stared down at the plan, lit in the soft golden light of an oil lamp hanging over the table. “Is this… for your portal?”
“Yup.”
“Do you need a portal that large?”
“Nope,” Foolish replied, popping the ‘p.’
“Huh. Well,” Eret slid the tinted lenses off and leaned closer. “It sure looks impressive on paper.”
“Trust me,” Foolish said happily, “it’ll look so much cooler once I build it.”
Eret looked up at him with a soft smile. “I’ll look forward to seeing it, then.”
. . .
Eret gazed at the sunset over the dusty golden-grassed savanna across the river, eyes tracing the sweeping dark purple clouds that split swathes of orange and rose and bright yellow. Distant birds were singing their farewell songs to the sun, and in the growing dusk one of the desert foxes screamed.
The smell of hot sand and cooling air wafted by on a lazy breeze. Eret sighed.
Foolish was finally doing better. It had taken so much work, so much worry and stress and time. But he was improving, he was even nearly back to normal—or what amounted to his normal.
When Foolish had shown up that morning after the first sparring session with Tubbo, after he’d spent the night in his temple and come back with… well, it had been like the past few weeks hadn’t even happened. He was no longer semi-verbal and only strong enough to walk from one place to another unless rut-fueled; he was laughing and joking and eating willingly. For the last three days Eret and Phil had been waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Foolish to worsen once again… but that never happened. In fact, he was only improving.
Eret knew it wasn’t just the beacon beam in the temple that changed things. Gold, a nest, the sparring, Eret’s stubborn refusal to let Foolish skip a meal—not to mention Foolish was undoubtedly, and finally, nearing the end of his rut—had all been helping factors. Even having Junior wreak havoc for the past three days seemed to have helped, and Eret was glad for the chance to get to know Foolish’s little son.
The last rays of sunset disappeared, leaving only a golden glow on the western horizon.
A part of Eret wished nothing would change from this moment, or from these past few days. It felt like the calm before a storm, even though they’d all just made it through a tempest. It felt peaceful, and it felt right. Even if Eret never got answers from Foolish, this felt like a good life to live. It was a far simpler life than the one that awaited the return of the Greater Kingdom’s monarch.
The glow on the horizon was now a pale blue. Stars were appearing in the sky: tiny scattered points of silver in a velvet blanket of deep indigo.
Eret climbed down from the cobra structure’s left head and went to find an available bedroll. Tomorrow, Eret would be leaving Foolish’s desert home and returning to the castle and to Community, returning to all the duties and responsibilities. A copy of the documents Eret had originally travelled all the way here for was tucked safely away in Eret’s enderchest. Eret’s small travel bag was packed and ready.
Eret felt far from ready, but it was time to leave—and it was time to prepare for the Banquet.
. . .
HBomb stepped through the purple veil of the portal, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool morning air washed over him. It was one of the few things he still missed back home at his mansion in the savannah; hot and dusty was a given there, so this change was always refreshing. He only got to experience it when he had to make the trip to Community and its large market. The village just a short walk from his mansion supplied a lot of his needs, but not everything.
He rubbed his eyes, his head still aching from last night’s hangover, then moved along the paved stone walkway that led towards the town centre. The portal wasn’t busy this early in the day, as most people—aside from the wealthiest merchants who could afford the guards and the risk—preferred to use the roads in the overworld rather than risk passage in the nether. He couldn’t blame them.
The closer he got to the town square and the open courtyard of the community building, the thicker the crowd became. There were small vendor carts lining the wooden walkways and paved stone streets, having arrived too late to find a place in the proper market just past the centre. While the town wasn’t exactly small, most people who bought and sold in the market travelled in every day from the surrounding small villages. This town had a reputation for… a certain level of unpredictability, and thus the average Greater Kingdom citizen preferred to make their home and their living near but not in the town.
Speaking of the Greater Kingdom. HBomb stared down the widest of the paved roads, the one that led to the castle. As always, the gate in the thick stone wall was open and a steady stream of citizens were trickling in. A lot of them would be looking for an audience from whoever was serving as the Justicer now that Eret was off on some unofficial visit who-knows-where.
Then he squinted. On the top of the wall, overlooking the crowds, two tiny figures stood between the massive stone parapets. A moment later they disappeared.
HBomb frowned. From his brief time as a sworn Knight, he knew very few people were allowed up there. Then he shrugged and turned away. It wasn’t any of his business now.
He'd only visited a few of the merchants he needed when a familiar voice and a heavy hand clapping onto his shoulder interrupted him.
“HBomb! It’s been a while, how come you haven’t stopped by to say hey?”
(He knew she was teasing, he could hear it in her voice, but it still smarted a bit. A lot of things smarted a bit, nowadays—or maybe it was the isolation talking. Maybe he wasn’t used to… friends. Not anymore. Prime, he could use a drink.)
HBomb turned with a grin. “Hi Puffy, how’s it going?” He’d actually nearly run across her two weeks ago, but she’d looked very stressed and obviously preoccupied and while HBomb always wanted to help his friends out, he hated interrupting anyone who looked concerned with far more important matters.
“Oh, it’s going.” She laughed lightly, and HBomb couldn’t help but smile a little. She still looked a little worried, but a huge weight had clearly been lifted from her since he’d last seen her.
“I just met up with Eret,” she continued. “Foolish is finally doing well enough, so Eret’s back now.”
HBomb frowned and stepped off to the side, away from the bustling crowd. “Is that where Eret went? And what was wrong with Foolish, was he sick?”
Puffy stared at him, clearly shocked silent. Her ears were even pinned back. HBomb gulped. Had he said something wrong? Was it not something he should’ve asked about, should he just-
His expression must have given something away, because Puffy laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “I just assumed you would’ve known. Prime. You really didn’t hear?”
HBomb stared at her.
"About Foolish?" she added, and her tone really was hinting something but HBomb sure as heck wasn't picking it up.
Oh, how he adored feeling like an idiot in front of his friends. He could really use a drink right now. It was a good thing that was the second merchant he went to; his pack was heavy with bottled alcohol.
"What about Foolish?" he finally asked.
Puffy pushed her thickly-curled hair away from her face, hooking most of it behind her horns, and breathed out. Then she beckoned him down one of the small side-streets, away from the crowded market.
"Foolish has been rutting for the past twenty-five days," she told him once they got to a quiet and empty corner. "Eret and Phil had to help him through it- not like how I'm making it sound though, Prime, this is- Foolish was in a bad spot and not taking care of himself. Not eating, not moving… or moving too much… eating a whole cow…"
(That last one was muttered under her breath and HBomb was mostly certain he'd heard her wrong. There was absolutely no way anyone could eat an entire cow, no matter how hungry or how determined they were. It was simply impossible.)
Then the number of days clicked in his mind. That day he'd offered his very specific services to Foolish…
"Oh Prime," he said, suddenly feeling queasy. "Did I trigger his rut?"