Chapter Text
“So it’s one gold for the jewelry and seven silver for the gems, right?” Wilbur asks the woman running the pop-up stand. Many similar booths line the streets leading up to the town square, taking advantage of the unusually high amount of foot traffic. The roads are flooded with people, all of whom are rushing from place to place. It’s the end of the year, and the city-state Hypixel is holding its annual week-long festival to usher in the new year. But this year, Hypixel’s warlocks are accepting new apprentices, which means that hundreds of young people are flooding the city in hopes of making it as a magician. Only a small portion of them will make it past the acceptance process, which, while disappointing for the rest, is very good for merchants looking for tourists to scam. After all, sad young adults will buy anything if it is marketed well enough.
Fortunately, Wilbur isn’t a tourist (Sad young adult? Maybe. But definitely not a tourist). He first entered the city walls as a child, after hitching a ride on a half-empty wagon. It had stopped at whatever run-down village he was born in, and the driver had been too drunk to notice the extra weight. He doesn’t remember what his village was called, but it’s not like he left anyone behind, so what does it matter? The city had suited him well enough even at a young age, and he had managed early on with the occasional job as a delivery boy while also learning to become a decent pick-pocket. But that’s not to say he did it alone, not at all. He met his partner-in-crime just a few weeks after hopping off that wagon–long before he had adjusted to fast-paced city life.
Technoblade came to Hypixel in a similar fashion to Wilbur. He had climbed onto one of the many modes of transport to the city and hidden in whatever he found on board. Wilbur had found him in an alleyway, clinging to a dirty piece of paper that he recognized as one of the flyers that tournament masters used to advertise their games. Wilbur had seen the wooden sword at Techno’s hip and had decided to keep his distance. The weapon was clearly more of a weapon than a toy, and Wilbur got the impression that the other boy knew how to use it.
Technoblade had stared at him for a few moments, before turning back to the tournament flier. Wilbur had seen the advertisements often enough to know that the reward for winning even just one of those games was quite a lot of money. It was enough money to support someone for at least three months, maybe even two someones. He had made his decision quickly. There had been potential there, and even fourteen-year-old Wilbur hadn’t been stupid enough to let it go.
“I’ve heard those tournaments are pretty easy to sneak into. I haven’t been, but it might be a good learning opportunity if you want to learn to use that sword of yours,” he had said, leaning against the alley wall.
“I can use my sword just fine, thank you,” Techno responded carefully. But Wilbur had seen the interest on his face at the prospect of watching the games. He had insisted that it was a good idea, needling the other boy until he agreed. He even offered to go with Techno, so that he wouldn’t get lost. Techno accepted, and Wilbur started talking about whatever he could, just to keep the conversation going. By the time they finished, Wilbur couldn’t deny that he had made something like a friend, and he hoped that Techno felt the same.
Together they learned that sneaking into tournaments was rather hit or miss, at least until they figured out that the best way to do it was to wait until the first round of games had begun and the guards had relaxed. They realized that Technoblade was adept at copying whatever movements he saw on the stadium floor while Wilbur was very good at talking people into doing what he wanted. So for the next few months, Technoblade watched the more successful players and mimicked their techniques in alleyways while Wilbur learned how to win bets and schmooze drunkards.
Eight years later, and they had built something good. Technoblade was a successful player and Wilbur was the man who ran the betting pools whenever his brother-in-all-but-blood competed. They were doing well, but they were well aware that this set-up wasn’t permanent.
It might last a few more years, but it would only be so long until Techno got seriously injured in a fight or Wilbur pissed off someone distasteful. The two of them were still young, only a few years into adulthood. Becoming an apprentice to a craftsman or going to school were still options for them. This is why, when their lives began showing signs that things were spinning out of control, they locked their knees and stayed steady. The chaotic nature of life was nothing new to them, so they took their new paths in stride and kept walking.
For Wilbur, this new path seemed to include quite a lot of the unknown.
Magic was a fact of life, but its true power and limits were still a mystery. He can’t deny that it has always been somewhat interesting to him, but he hadn’t considered becoming a mage a possibility until he was nearly an adult. Of course, he had known that he had the potential to use it, but so did plenty of other people. It had always seemed like something out of reach, something that suited someone else.
(At least, that’s what he told himself.)
Then a man approached him after one of Technoblade’s more prestigious tournaments and offered him a future he could never have dreamed of. The man found him while he was collecting the last of the night's earnings, but waited to speak to him until he had tucked the last bag of coins into his coat. The stranger then walked up to him and introduced himself as a representative of Hypixel’s warlocks.
Internally, Wilbur had panicked. There was no way he had upset any magic-wielders (at least in a way that could cause him grievous harm), but nothing good comes from late-night visits in an empty stadium.
(Well, it hadn’t really been empty. Techno had been waiting for him a few pillars down, watching the conversation and ready to intervene. But there had been no way for the stranger to know that, so who knew what he would try?)
Externally, Wilbur had tried his best to appear calm and collected, if a bit peeved. What else could be expected from a busy man who is being faced with something unexpected? The representative had looked at him unfazed, and Wilbur had taken the pause as a chance to observe further.
The warlock's chosen representative was a short and slim man with short brown hair. He was dressed in expensive blue robes that should have looked ridiculous but somehow didn’t. Wilbur had assumed it was because of the way they seemed to float just above the floor, effectively giving the impression that the warlock was gliding when he walked. The most peculiar thing about the man's appearance was the black and white goggles looped around his neck. Wilbur hadn’t thought too much on it, who knew what warlocks got up to in their free time, maybe the representative was an engineer and needed eye protection. But what stood out to him most was the aura that seemed to seep from every pore of the man in front of him. He carried himself with an air that Wilbur had only ever seen on the soldiers who return from war, bone-deep tiredness woven into an unmatched sense of determination. Up until this point Wilbur had assumed, like most non-superstitious people, that the rumors about warlocks being immortal were unfounded, but looking at this man, he questioned for a moment if they might be true.
“What do the warlocks of Hypixel require from me?” He had asked, sticking his hands into his pockets in an attempt to look unbothered. He realized too late that the formality of his words didn’t match his body language, but ignored it for the sake of maintaining his composure.
“They would like you to join them as an apprentice.” Representative-Man had not minced words and had effectively rendered Wilbur speechless. “There is no time limit for this offer, so do feel free to join us at any point.”
The potential for magic shows itself in a multitude of physical manifestations. One of the most common is a streak of unnaturally colored hair. Another is a full head of unnaturally colored hair or even weirdly colored eyes. They’re normally subtle and easy enough to hide, but they’re common enough that most people are used to it. Wilbur had been born with a white streak in the middle of his hairline but had never really thought anything of it. Plenty of people had them, but very few would end up going into magic. There’s nothing wrong with being a magic wielder, it’s just that a life of endless studying and potential gruesome death isn’t very appealing to most people. And that was when you ignored all the nasty rumors about what magic did to people’s humanity.
But rumors are rumors.
He supposes that close proximity to mages and warlocks has something to do with the aversion, too. Some of them can be complete assholes, with their heavy robes and snooty glares. But for people who only hear about them in fairytales and myths, they must seem pretty cool. It probably explains the number of kids who come in from the countryside whenever the Hypixel warlocks announce that they will be accepting applications.
“Really? And you came here personally to tell me that?” He had said, unable to keep the shock from his voice. From what Wilbur had heard, this type of thing didn’t really happen . People were trusted to make their way into the ranks of the warlocks by themselves, by speaking to this or that official. Then, they would show up to the soonest ceremony to swear themselves into the order or something, and it was done. They didn’t send representatives.
The man coughed, “We’re trying something new. We’ve noticed that our previous strategy was not reaching as many people as we would like.”
Yeah, that’s for sure, Wilbur had thought, a dumbfounded look still plastered on his face. The representative then seemed to become slightly embarrassed and turned on his heel, quickly gliding out of the stadium. Wilbur was left standing alone and confused, so he stumbled to the nearest set of benches and collapsed heavily onto the lowest one. He was resisting the urge to scream when something pointy poked him in the back.
He had turned his head to see Technoblade holding a long stick with a good portion of the bark missing. Clearly whatever his best friend had seen on his face was disturbing, because he had ceased his poking and instead pulled Wilbur out of his seat by the collar of his coat.
“Come on, you can scream at home,” He had said, all but dragging a still dazed Wilbur out of the stadium and towards their apartment.
That had been just over three years ago, and now Wilbur stands at a jewelry stand, looking for a gift to give his friend before they part ways. His application papers for the mage program are ready, and the ceremony will take place in almost six hours, but Techno will be leaving in two. They tried to watch the ceremony two years ago when it last took place and had found that for such a popular event, it was an extremely private affair. There were no guests allowed, so there was no way Techno would be able to stay and watch. They had even tried to eavesdrop through a window, but all that could be heard (even with Technos above average sense of hearing), was clapping and the sound of a fire. And afterward, the new apprentices would immediately be herded into the warlock’s quarters to begin their training, so Wilbur wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.
There was also the chance that Wilbur won’t get in. And in that case, he has a backup lined up already. In his years socializing in the stands during Technoblade’s tournaments, he had met his fair share of craftsmen and even a few scholars. He is confident that if this magic stuff didn’t work out, he will be able to find an apprenticeship with one of them.
Techno’s plan is, in essence, to travel. He will walk along the roads that connect Hypixel to different city-states and then make his way back in five years, just in time for Wilbur’s graduation. They will figure out the rest from there. It is a bit of a haphazard plan, but that suits them just fine, in Wilbur’s opinion.
He realizes rather belatedly that he missed the merchant’s reply to his question, and looks around to see her accepting a bag of coins from a customer further down the long table. The pop-up is larger than you would expect, consisting of two long tables parallel to each other and a fabric canopy overhead. The saleswoman runs the shop by herself, moving along the space in between the tables. Her products are very famous among travelers and locals alike, for their supposed magical properties.
She is very clearly a warlock, dressed in heavy robes and moving with unnatural grace, but that doesn’t mean some of her wares aren’t just worthless trinkets. The only reason Wilbur is absolutely sure that she isn’t pulling off an elaborate scam is that he’s seen other warlocks buying from her multiple times over the years. All of them tend to avoid the more ambitiously marketed products and head straight over to the jewelry, where Wilbur stands now.
Laid out in front of him are many different types of jewelry and precious stones. Each piece of jewelry has a clear spot for a stone to be embedded, but at the moment the space is vacant. Each of the gems is enchanted for a specific purpose, written on the box they sit in. None of them are made of real gemstones, rather they are just magic given shapes. They are sorted by color, with the most abundant being deep emerald green. Those are the gems he’s after. They’re famous among magic-wielders for the enchantment that is placed on them. Sold in pairs, they attach themselves to the lifeforce of their wearer and shatter upon death. Many people who intend to travel will buy a set and share it with a loved one in order to keep their peace of mind. The first time Wilbur heard of them, he had thought it was a bit extreme, but after considering both his and Technoblade’s personalities he realized that it was probably their best bet at remaining sane.
Techno isn’t an incredibly reckless person, but Wilbur knows him well enough to understand that there is no way he’d pass on an opportunity to make good money just because the job was dangerous. Which he supposes is fair considering that he competes in tournaments for a living. Wilbur, himself, has heard enough about warlocks being torn apart by rebounded spells to know that his future isn't going to be all unicorns and rainbows either. Anything could happen in five years, and Wilbur would prefer to know that his best friend was alive, wherever he is.
His attention shifts to a pair of golden earrings. They are dangle earrings, and the jewel hangs from a thin chain. Wilbur picks up the box and unhooks one earring to check the strength of the chain. The metal buzzes with the residue of magic, pleasantly surprising him. He flipped the box over to read the label on the back:
Enchanted to maximize durability and longevity.
Wilbur shrugs and puts the earrings down to focus on finding the right gems. Each of the stones is cut differently, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find one he likes, especially since he already has an idea of what would look nice. He quickly narrows it down to just a few variations of a teardrop shape. Any of them would work, but he ends up picking a pair of stones with a longer teardrop and flat top.
He picks up the two boxes and brings them to the stand owner, she takes them from him without a passing glance and fastens the gems into place with the ease of someone who has done it thousands of times. She places the finished earrings into a wooden box and hands it to him along with the lid.
“One gold and seven silver,” She says, already turning to direct another customer to a display of non-enchanted jewelry. Wilbur hurries to gather the coins and place them in the hand she holds out. Once the transaction is finished, he ties a ribbon around the box and heads down the street. His eyes slide from stall to stall, looking for anything that strikes his interest. He’ll have to start heading to the city gates in an hour, but he can do a bit of shopping before he goes. It is the busiest week of the year, after all. Everyone’s got a sale on something .
Of course, he’s late .
Technoblade closes his eyes, taking a break from people-watching to just listen to the noise of wagons and horses leaving the city. He’s sitting just outside the gates, in the shade of a tall oak tree, with a pack full of his belongings lying next to him. The guards had eyed him suspiciously when he first sat down, but they lost interest after a few minutes. Unlike the rest of the people standing by the gate, mostly young children and teenagers, who have scarcely ceased their staring since he walked past them. He was one of those kids, once. He’d never been quite as young as some of the smallest there, but he and Wilbur had spent many hours watching the traffic at the gates. They’re just curious about the people who leave and enter the city, but it doesn't stop him from finding their one-minded focus uncomfortable. He turns his eyes away from them before they notice, hoping to avoid giving them the confidence to approach him, but fails quite terribly.
“Hey, mister! Why’s your hair pink?” One of the kids asks, and it triggers a collective groan from the teenagers of the group, with all of them muttering that the answer is obvious.
Techno half-considers leaving without saying goodbye to Wilbur, if only to escape the hoard of children and their questions, but discards the idea almost immediately. The kid who asked the question looks like she might move closer to repeat herself, so Techno answers before she can.
“When I was little, a witch cast a spell on me. It’s been pink ever since,” he states, tone as flat as he can manage. That’s not exactly what happened, but it’ll get them to leave him alone. The kid looks like she’s just heard the best story of her life and turns to repeat it to her friends, even though Techno is pretty sure he spoke loud enough for them to hear. The older kids scowl at him–a little bit for lying to little kids, but mostly for the barrage of questions they get from the younger ones–but eventually, they begin explaining how magic and physical traits can correlate.
Techno isn’t actually magic, and somebody else had made his hair like this, but he doesn’t feel like explaining it to a bunch of kids. He scoots backward until he can lean on the tree, and then closes his eyes, resigned to waiting until Wilbur shows up.
He waits a grand total of fifteen seconds until the audible thump of footsteps running in his direction alerts him to his best friend’s arrival. Cracking one eye open, he takes in his appearance. Wilbur is out of breath, carrying multiple cloth bags and small boxes. His hair is a mess, and he had clearly run from the city center to the gates.
“Shoppin’ spree?” He asks, one eyebrow raising as he realizes the sheer amount of stuff Wilbur managed to balance, “Put that shit down man, you’re gonna fall over.”
“Shut… up…” Wilbur says in between breaths, face red. He puts his bags down and collapses against the tree next to Techno. Techno immediately reaches over him for the closest bag, looking through its contents.
“Shirts, pants, more shirts… a hat? What do you need a hat for? You have like twelve.” His eyebrows draw together, “And why did you buy clothes? Don’t warlocks wear those robes?” Wilbur stares at him, eyes wide and full of panicked realization. “Did you forget?”
“I didn’t mean to! They were on sale… and I refuse to wear those robes, they’re ugly!” Techno gives him a judgemental look and reaches for the next bag. This one is full of small boxes of various shapes and dimensions.
“I don’t think you’ll get much of a choice, Wil. They’ll magic you into them or something,” Techno fiddles with a cylindrical box, opening it to see a bunched piece of packing tissue.
“Don’t unwrap too many of those, they’re just fancy decorations and statues and shit,” Wilbur’s warning is muffled by his sleeve as he wipes the sweat off his face, “I’ll convince them. Maybe I can make modifications?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Techno says fondly, gently holding a small stylized figure of a lynx. He wraps it back up and places it back into the box before reaching for another one. This one is a wild boar, clearly made by the same craftsman.
“That one’s for you if you have space. I also got you this,” Wilbur rummages in his coat for a moment before pulling out a small but intricate wooden box. He unfastens the ribbons holding it together and removes the lid to reveal a pair of gold earrings. Techno makes a little ‘ooh’ sound in interest as Wilbur hands both the box and lid to him and lifts one of the earrings gently.
He notices the slight humming in the metal and raises an eyebrow at Wilbur, who laughs softly.
“The metal is enchanted to make them stronger.”
“And the emerald?” Technoblade asks, poking the green stone in the second earring. Wilbur grins, so he figures it must be something good.
“The lady I bought them from is famous because of her ability to create gems from magic, it’s very cool. The idea is that two people share the pair, and the earrings will connect to the wearer's lifeforce. The interesting part is that if one of the wearer's lifeforce disappears, then both earrings will shatter, alerting the other person,” Wilbur explains, looking quite proud of himself. Techno’s eyes widen and he looks at the earrings again.
“Oh, that is very cool. Does it only work in pairs?” Wilbur considers it, quiet for a moment.
“I think that’s as many as they could figure out. I’ve been thinking about reading more about it, the idea is interesting,” Techno hums, understanding.
“Well, if anyone could do it, it’d be you. Just don’t get sued for thievery of intellectual property. Here, take this one, I’ll take the other.”
Techno has always been a fan of piercings and has quite a few of them. Wilbur has some as well, but he prefers simplicity instead of the chains and loops that adorn Techno’s ears. Techno takes out his right lower lobe earring and replaces it with the enchanted earring. He puts the old earring into a pouch in his bag that holds the rest of his jewelry. The asymmetry is nothing new, and Techno thinks that it will fit in quite nicely. Wilbur also puts his in his right ear, smiling the entire time. Techno stands up once he’s finished, after slipping the box with the boar figure into his pack.
“I should head out. Your ceremony is soon and you have to drop that shit off,” Wilbur stands too, and they both grin at each other.
“Five years, Technoblade. And not a day later,” Wilbur says, pulling him into a tight hug. It doesn’t last long, lest one of them starts crying.
“Five years, and if not, you have permission to drag me back,” Techno states, trying and failing to keep his voice from coming out choked.
“Like I need permission to drag you anywhere,” Wilbur scoffs, but the effect is ruined by the way his eyes water. Techno laughs in agreement, then turns on his heel and takes his first steps from the gates of Hypixel.
“Five years, Technoblade!” Wilbur calls once he’s gotten further away. Techno raises a hand in farewell, not trusting his voice.
Five years.
Two years, five months, and six days, Techno reminds himself, staring blankly at the wood of the table he’s been sitting at for the past hour. It’s slightly sticky to the touch, and he feels like if he scraped it with something sharp, a layer of grime would come off. The ice in the water he’d ordered is nearly melted, but he doesn’t have enough change to buy a refill. He glances mournfully at his near-empty glass, not thirsty enough to drink the melted ice but tired enough to be upset about it. In all fairness, Technoblade was the one who decided to hang out at a bar instead of getting a hotel room and catching up on sleep. But he’d heard some locals talking about bounty hunters being in the area, searching for some rare monster or creature, and couldn’t pass on the chance to make decent money. Taverns like this one are a chance to meet locals and catch wind of opportunities to make quick cash. Techno knows that it works from experience–about seventy-five percent of his income probably comes from tipsy village-dwellers asking him to lend a hand. If he was a bounty hunter in need of more men, then this is exactly where he would go.
His strategy is proven effective as a party of three enters the pub. Two men and one woman, all armed and carrying at least three supply packs each. Techno sits a bit straighter in his booth, shuffling his belongings so that his sword and bag are visible from most sides. He watches the bounty hunters settle into their booth on the opposite side of the room, and sees them order something from a waitress. Techno takes a glance at his glass of water and quickly drinks the remains of the ice. He waves over the waiter as she leaves the bounty hunter’s table.
“Hi! Can I get you anything, sir?” The waitress asks.
“Another glass of water would be great, thank you,” Techno says, a small smile on his face. He can already feel the uncomfortable sensation of sitting in one spot for too long begin to set in, but that doesn’t warrant rudeness to the staff. Even if all the surfaces in this building are suspiciously sticky.
“Coming right up!” The waitress hurries off towards the bartender and whispers something to her, presumably their orders, before rushing through the swinging door that must lead to the kitchen. Techno takes a glance at the bounty hunter’s table to see them surveying the rest of the people in the tavern. There are quite a few other people here, more than you would expect this early into the night, but Techno assumes that most of them are also travelers looking for a quick pit stop rather than a night’s rest. The room is filled with quiet chatter and the tuning of a guitar, as the musicians for the night get ready on the stage next to the bar.
The waitress returns from the kitchens with an empty plate and loads the drinks prepared by the bartender onto it. Technoblade smiles and thanks her when she places another water onto the table, immediately taking a sip through the straw more out of boredom than anything else. He has actual food in his bag, a hunk of cheese and bread that he bought from the market when he arrived, but it’s still an hour or two before he would normally have dinner. What he doesn’t have is enough water in his flask, so he begins the painstaking process of pouring the water from a cup into the small opening.
Thankfully, the bounty hunters wait to approach him until he’s finished and is busy screwing the cap onto his metal flask.
“Hey, you interested in joining us on a job?” That is… not what Techno expected. He would have started with an introduction or something, but he supposes it works well enough. One of the male hunters stands in front of him. He is probably a few inches taller than Technoblade (impressive considering Techno is pretty tall, to begin with), dark-skinned with a short, coarse beard and a confident demeanor. Typical guy, if you ignore the sheer amount of knives he has strapped onto his thighs and the crossbow on his back. Really odd introduction, though. He’ll have to remember to tell Wilbur about it in his next letter after he’s finished with this and on his way to see something new. Wilbur will probably write back poking fun at Techno and saying that his conversation skills aren’t much better. A few months ago, the apprentice mage figured out a way to enchant his letters into little paper cranes that would fly to Techno no matter where he went. When the first one made it to him, Technoblade was ecstatic because up until that point, the letter exchange had only been one-way, with Techno sending them to Hypixel. The cranes made it possible for them to keep in touch, and helped him deal with the fact that he wasn’t home .
“What kind of job?” Techno asks, returning to the topic at hand and tilting his head. He hopes that it’s something reasonable, not too far away and with enough info that they aren’t going in blind (but it’s not like he’ll refuse if it’s good money). The hunter takes his intrigue as an invitation to sit across from him on the other side of the booth. Techno’s eyebrows raise before he can stop them, but he calms his expression.
“I’m Josef. My friends over there and I,” He points his thumb towards where he was sitting, and Techno notices that the amount of people in the booth has at least tripled, “are looking to hunt down a monster that supposedly lives in the woods nearby.”
“What monster? Why do you need so many people?” Techno questions, skepticism building. He’s never seen a bounty hunting group with so many people, they’re normally capped at six. It looks like they’ve just rounded up all the fit young adults in the tavern, so he thinks it’s fair for him to be doubtful.
“It’s called a Warden, but we don’t know much else. They’re very common in the folktales around here, so we’re hoping that we can find him after a few days in the forest. He’s supposed to be really big, so we figured the more the merrier,” Technoblade nods, thinking quickly. It is better to be cautious than risk not having enough people, but he just wonders how they plan on paying everyone.
“And what’d the pay be?” Josef rubs the back of his neck, chuckling.
“Well, for you, I’d say something like four or five pouches of gold. We don’t know exactly how much we’ll get for the beast until we’ve got it up in the market, but it won’t be anything less than that, I promise you,'' Techno's eyes widen, and Josef grins when he sees his surprise, “A lot, isn’t it? According to our guys, every part of the animal has a magical use, and I’m sure you know how that shit sells.”
He eyes Technoblade’s hair while he says it and while Techno does know how expensive magical ingredients are, it’s not for the reason he thinks. Back in Hypixel, Techno would always have some injury or other that he would have to go to the healers for after a tournament. They were nice about it in the beginning, but after a few visits, they became comfortable enough to rib him about how much he cost them in supplies. A few of them even taught him basic first aid, the stuff that you could do without potions or poultices.
He misses it.
(He’s missed three New Years Festivals at this point, and he tries not to think about it.)
Two years, five months, and six days until you’re home again, he viciously reminds himself, returning his attention to Josef. Something the hunter had said struck him as off, and he wanted an explanation.
“What do you mean ‘for me?’ Somebody else gettin’ paid more?” He raises an eyebrow, refusing to let his confusion show. He’d never heard of the group's staggering pay for their recruits, even when there was an obvious skill gap.
“Opposite, actually. I’m assuming you know how to use that sword pretty well, so we’re willing to offer you more of a cut compared to some of the others.” You tell them that? Techno thinks, disgruntled. He keeps his expression calm but frowns inwardly as he glances over at the others again. He can’t spot anyone who looks like they may be weak in a fight, in fact, they all seem pretty capable. But he can’t think of any reason for Josef to lie to him, especially about pay, since he could just check with the other recruits later. He makes a mental note to do just that and turns back to Josef, who has a hopeful look on his face.
“So you’re in?”
“I’m in.”
The group leaves the small farming village a few hours after sunrise and sets up camp a few hours after sunset. The bounty hunters claim one of the larger tents, supposedly to discuss their plan, and leave the recruits to huddle by the fire in the chill of the night. Most of them cradle small wooden bowls of mushroom stew, blowing air gently onto each spoonful before taking bites. They sit in a silence that quickly becomes awkward until someone speaks up:
“So… Where are you guys from?” A woman with short blonde hair asks, eyes shifting from person to person.
“Not too far away, my hometown is just a few days out,” A young-looking boy responds eagerly. Probably only a few months out of puberty, and with the lanky limbs to show for it. The satchel sitting next to him isn’t large, but it bulges with the sheer amount of stuff that’s shoved inside. Some of the more experienced travelers eye the bag, all thinking: Kid’ll learn to pack light soon enough.
“Shit, really? What’re you doing here then?” The woman responds, expression brightening at the prospect of conversation.
“My ma said I should get some ‘real-world experience’ under my belt before she retires. Figured traveling counts as good as anything else.”
“Smart one, your ma. Wish somebody’d done that for me, maybe I would’ve had enough brains to get away from these dumbasses when I had the chance,” A second woman with black hair chimes in. She sits in between the blonde and a brunette. Twin outraged shrieks escape from the two of them at the slight but she just rolls her eyes, likely used to their antics. “I’m Lu, how about y’all?”
“Simon!” The boy exclaims, one hand busy rooting around in his bag and the other precariously balancing his bowl of stew. He pulls out a slice of artisan bread, probably homemade, and dips it into the stew, humming appreciatively when he takes a bite.
The blonde introduces herself as Clementine (Clem for short), and the brunette as Rhesa. The introductions and life stories continue somewhat haphazardly, as random people chime in whenever it suits them. After a few minutes, the awkward atmosphere has been replaced by something warm and friendly. Conversation pauses occasionally but always picks up after a few moments of silence that never has a chance to become uncomfortable. It’s during one of these pauses that attention shifts.
“Hey, wait a second… you never introduced yourself!” One of the men points out after Technoblade makes a particularly funny quip. The man’s name is Shay, a highly-skilled carpenter from ‘a land far far away’ (in his words). He’d heard from a colleague that an especially unique and beautiful type of tree could be found in the area and came to find them. His plan was to collect some seeds or saplings and plant them in the orchard he shares with other tradesmen. Quite a few of the recruits asked him what was so special about the trees, but he had just grinned and shaken his head, insisting that it was a surprise.
Techno, who hadn’t meant to skip his introduction, freezes. He’d been looking in his pack for any leftover slices of bread, hoping to mimic Simon and add something solid to his meal. Now, he slowly brings his hand out of the bag and grins sheepishly.
“Technoblade, from Hypixel.” Some of the travelers whistle, impressed.
“Holy shit man, that’s like what? A few months on horseback?” A woman, Mari, asked. She is very clearly well-traveled, with worn boots and a bag that must have thousands of pockets. She had introduced herself as a retired castle guard, and Techno can see it in the way she holds herself. She has an air about her that commands respect but is also quite easy to get along with. Technoblade himself has never met an actual palace guard, but he assumes that they would be like her. Mari was also the one to scrounge up the materials for the stew, and for that, he will forever be thankful.
“Maybe?” He grimaces, “I’ve been on the road for a long time, didn’t really take the fastest route here. I just heard that there were some nice mountains borderin’ the nearby city-states and wanted to take a look.”
“Yeah, I heard about those too. The three of us were planning on dropping by but some of the townswomen said that there’s been some trouble over there recently,” Rhesa says, gesturing with her spoon, “Tensions between the cities have been rising because of the local mage population.”
“Really?” Techno hums, thoughtful, “I might just skip it then. That stuff is not worth the mess.”
“I know, right?” Lu chuckles, “My dad’s a mage, and the stories that man tells are enough to keep any sane, non-magic person out of magical business.”
“Wait, what’s wrong with mages?” Simon asks, looking confused. Some of the older recruits share glances, shaking their heads.
“Nothings wrong with them, per se. It’s just that… well…” Shay trails off, struggling to turn his thoughts into words.
“Mages hold grudges, basically. And it can get pretty violent when they clash,” Mari states, matter-of-fact. “They offend each other real easy too, so it’s just a recipe for disaster.”
“Don’t forget that they get their cities tied up in their feuds whenever they get angry enough,” Lu deadpans, rolling her eyes.
“Well that’s not really fair, is it? It’s normally the older mages who go around starting shit, and they tend to have higher status and more influence, so naturally, it gets into the city,” Clem points out with an eyebrow raised. Lu sighs, and Techno can tell this is a conversation they’ve had before.
“They say that wisdom comes with age, but the only thing these mages seem to become is vain,” She says, communicating a feeling of disappointment that must come from personal experience. The campfire is silent for a few moments as people are consumed by their thoughts.
“Maybe it’s the insanity,” Simon proposes, and the recruits erupt in laughter. The kid blushes and hides his face behind his packs, taking back his statement, “Nevermind! Nevermind!”
“Come on kid, they don’t actually go insane.” Techno shakes his head, smiling.
“Yeah, they just develop superiority complexes,” Someone giggles.
“No more than a rich man does!” Someone else quips, and the laughter returns.