Chapter Text
Prologue
December 24th
The haunting sound of water droplets splashing on the cold floor echoed in the abandoned ravine that once housed the rebellion against Manberg. Within the gorge, hidden from the rest of the world, the long-forgotten leftover remnants of the Pogtopia rebels were scattered throughout the cold stone tunnels and halls. Long unused lanterns hung on rusty chains, and decrepit bridges spanned across the length of the ravine casting eerie shadows and standing as a permanent reminder of the mad man who had once roamed these halls, an array of buttons decorated every free space on the walls.
A lone figure walked along the smoothed-down path that led to what had been the temporary office of Wilbur Soot. It was a simple hole worn into the wall, with a cobbled-together wooden door crudely providing what little privacy could be found by anyone in the rebel’s hideout. There was no one left living in the confines of the ravine, but it had never been properly cleared out when its occupant died. No one seemed interested in gutting the room of a madman. Torn flags, discarded clothes, piles of paper, and supplies to make many evil things were scattered throughout the space. Wilbur had a tiny makeshift desk next to a barely used sleeping bag. The desk was a large wooden plank nailed onto an old barrel, still cluttered with letters and spilled ink pots. The visitor to the accursed ruins rummaged through the space, muttering to himself. A foul odor still lingered, embedded into the stone and wood. It was difficult not to gag from the lingering reek of TNT, potions, leftover meals, burnt cigarettes, and unwashed clothes. Dust clouds attacked his lungs with each item he tossed aside.
The man finally gave up looking in the piles of personal belongings and turned to search crevices and hiding spots. After being unable to find what he was looking for, he began to break things to see if the disgraced leader had taken extra precautions. He ripped the wooden plank off the barrel and found it hollow. Inside there were books and keepsakes. After sorting through what he could only imagine being useless junk, such as an old baby blanket, a salmon pendant, a hat, and some old guitar picks, he found what he came for; a journal containing all of Wilbur Soot’s secrets.
A smile split the man’s face apart. This was going to be interesting, he thought cruelly to himself.
Chapter 1
December 34th
Ranboo’s house was situated just above the main square in L’manberg. From its rather lofty position, his house was able to receive the very earliest rays of the morning sun. As Ranboo inspected a leather-bound book in his hands, long reptilian fingers danced over the cover as fresh sunlight bathed him and the book in a golden halo. A local leatherworker had carefully crafted and since then had become his lifeline. He had never bothered with journaling before he moved to the city, but now he needed to have some form of record of his day-to-day life. It wasn’t an extraordinary book, just a plain leather backing with blank yet sturdy pages, but it was a testament to the hard-working citizens Ranboo hoped to lead in the coming future.
He stood out from his peers, even the hybrids, as he was unique in the sense that he wasn’t half-human, but no one treated him differently. He towered over most people, standing at eight feet tall. His general appearance was that of two entirely different creatures blended together. His face, split down the middle, was half reptilian and half smooth like an enderman’s skin. His long limbs didn’t mesh well with his mammal-like tail. He sometimes wondered if the deities that watched over the worlds had intentionally come up with the most confusing combination possible when he was created. But here, he didn’t have to worry about such things. In L’manberg, different was expected; they celebrated it.
Such attitude left him grateful for being able to live in that country, even if his entire standing could come crumbling down and he would never remember why. The half black half white enderman-hybrid often pondered how an inanimate object such as the memory book could hold so much power over one’s life. Its worn pages were his only way of knowing anything happening these days. Each morning he wakes up, never quite sure of what he’s forgotten. Yesterday Ranboo awakened to the news that Eret was planning a celebration.
The purpose was to honor four years of peace between the Land of Dreams and L’manberg. It was a massive step for both battered countries. Not to mention Dream had officially recognized L’manberg as its own country for the first time since its foundation. That felt like something Ranboo shouldn’t have been able to forget. But something in his mind was broken; it left him with shattered memories that came and went at their choosing. It took everything in him to not let it destroy him, to steal his future from under him.
So he clung to his book and the friends he filled it with. There were other, far more subtle, but just as essential, things he wrote down.
For instance, Ranboo had noticed that Fundy, his first friend in the Land of Dreams, had been acting stranger than usual. His once playfully chaotic nature had given way to borderline paranoia. Ranboo remembered that about a week prior to Tommy’s apparent suicide, Fundy had roped Ranboo into building a proper obstacle course with a surprise birthday present for Tubbo. The plan was to take the President’s mind off of the tragedy that had occurred not a week prior. The two men had had such a lovely time, and Fundy seemed more carefree than in months. He and Ranboo were having a good time designing party games for the upcoming festival, and Ranboo was even considering asking Fundy to run as his Vice President.
But recently, there was a change in his behavior. The once prankster who thrived on social interaction had begun isolating himself for days, muttering about legacies when he thought no one could hear and questioning everyone’s motives no matter how innocent they may be. It was worrying, but Ranboo was sure he was just upset about Phil leaving so abruptly and would be over it soon. He just needed time. Ranboo had also noticed Quackity, the temporary Vice President of L'manberg, grew more secretive and dedicated more time to El Rapids than to the country he had sworn loyalty to.
Not that there was anything wrong with El Rapids as a sub-country; Ranboo was sure those rumors of terrorism directed towards Eret’s castle weren’t true, and Quackity’s friendship with Dream’s old allies was just a step towards a peaceful future. Quackity was a good guy; he was sure of it. No, they never talked, and Ranboo sometimes didn’t like how the Vice President talked down to Tubbo, but he was sure he was just trying to be helpful. He was sure there was a good reason that Quackity trusted George and Sapnap so quickly after they had sworn allegiance to El Rapids more than he trusted the L’manberg Cabinet.
Quackity wasn’t evil.
Meanwhile, Tubbo, poor Tubbo’s exhaustion grew by the day. Shortly after being elected to President and once the reconstruction of L’manberg had begun, Tubbo had turned his focus to constructing the Guardian farm deep in the ocean, claiming that it would be beneficial for L’manberg to have something to capitalize on. Since Tommy’s exile, Tubbo’s efforts to work on the farm had all but ceased under the guise of focusing effort on the nation's protection.
Ranboo wasn’t fooled and had noticed how disheartened Tubbo had become since Tommy’s death. The boy-President was captaining a sinking ship, and he knew it. He would be all alone if it weren’t for Ranboo, and Ranboo was only there for him because he kept writing in the memory book. In his defense, the amnesiac remembered emotions reasonably well, but the events that led him to experience those emotions proved more challenging to recall on a day-to-day basis. He remembered they had recently built an apiary together, and Tubbo would spend all of his free time tending the bees. Knowing that he had helped Tubbo build something to keep his mind occupied made him glad, and he was grateful that he could be there for Tubbo.
At the end of the day, he knew he could have stopped Tommy from ever being taken away from Tubbo and figured that this could make up for it. He hoped one day that Tommy and Tubbo would be reunited, but until then, he could try to make up for the gap that was left by the blonde. And since Tubbo's allies had become self-serving wolves, the young president needed a friend.
Not that Ranboo would say that to anyone, he was sure they were all just very stressed. Unfortunately, the cost of being so connected with the powers on high meant that not everything in the memory book would benefit him. Ranboo had written darker things in his memory book in addition to positive memories, secrets that, if discovered, could lead to his death. For instance, he had been in contact with Tommy during exile, a forbidden act, and he had seen how Dream treated Tommy during that time.
He doubted that he knew the extent, but he’d seen fragments. They were horrible, destructive glances into the terrible life Tommy had been forced to endure. When Tommy was alone in Logsteadshire, Ranboo tried to write to his poor friend and help with the isolation, but Tommy had stopped replying. Maybe the messages were getting lost? That was arguably the case; communicating through the nether without using a communications device wasn’t reliable.
Ranboo hadn’t told anyone what Dream had done; he feared what Dream might do to keep it a secret. He also hadn’t told anyone that Tommy was alive. Everyone in L’manberg and the Land of Dreams believed that the former Vice President had jumped off a tower, taking his last life, but Ranboo had been to Technoblade’s base and knew Tommy was there. At the time, he was breathing and somewhat healthier than before. Ranboo desperately wanted to tell Tubbo this but didn’t know how without destroying the President’s psyche.
Tommy’s funeral was over a month ago, but despite the time of mourning being passed, Tubbo was still secretly grieving the loss of his best friend; discovering that it was all for naught would doubtlessly shatter him. But Ranboo hadn’t just seen Tommy, but he had also given Technoblade his armor that had been confiscated by the Butcher Army, so telling the truth would also out him as a traitor to L’manberg, and Ranboo didn’t want that. Everyone thought Dream had found it and returned it to the anarchist, and Ranboo was perfectly okay with them believing that. He had also discovered, along with Tubbo, a secret hideout full of war dogs underneath the apiary Tubbo and Ranboo had built. If his suspicions were correct, they were Techno’s dogs, but he wasn’t about to tell Tubbo that; that would require explaining why he knew that and didn’t want to lose his home.
He was happy here; he had a future and a comfortable home but didn’t want to throw away his budding friendship with Tommy, Philza, and Technoblade, so he simply added it to the list of secrets.
He promised himself that there won’t be a need for secrets one day.
One day, everything will work out, everyone will be happy, no one will hate each other, and he won’t have to pick a side anymore.
Breaking free from his mind’s ramblings, Ranboo opened the memory book, the pages fluttering with the gentle rasp of paper-against-paper, and flipped to yesterday’s entry.
“I visited Phil today. He is living with Technoblade now. I’m glad he could escape from house arrest, but it is sad to see him against L’manberg. But at least he is safe. Techno and Tommy were gone, so I didn’t see them. Phil told me Tommy is actually starting to show signs of healing from everything that happened in Logsteadshire. He hasn’t told them any details, though; Phil is still waiting for him to open up about that. Tubbo and Eret asked Fundy and me to help plan the celebration. We are going to design games, and it will be great to work with him again on something that isn’t super intense or dangerous. Jack announced that he would be running for President next year, just like me. It will be good to have competition in the race, I think. But also, I think Tubbo is ready for one of us to take over.”
Ranboo’s chair creaked as he rose. He had already put on his black two-piece suit for the day despite the sun not yet being up. He closed the memory book and returned it to his interior jacket pocket. It was early, way earlier than he was ordinarily awake, but bad dreams and restlessness had kept him from getting any sleep.
He was preparing to leave his house when he noticed a blue glow from his communications device attached to his wrist. The device was still strange to him, even though he had worn it for as long as he could remember. It was the size of a regular watch when not needed but could extend out almost half as long as his forearm for when you needed the active functions. It was how you accessed your inventory, communicated with friends and allies, and saw any news articles.
Getting news was common, but you would actually get an alert if it was urgent. Receiving an alert inevitably meant something terrible had or would happen. This time was no exception. It was an emergency news alert delivered to all the citizens in L’manberg and citizens of the Greater Land of Dreams. He activated the screen and was greeted by a disturbing story. He stared at it, trying to make sense of what he was reading.
“BREAKING NEWS!! PRESIDENT OF L’MANBERG REVEALED TO BE SON OF FORMER PRESIDENT JSCHLATT!!”
From the L’manberg Times: An anonymous source contacted our office yesterday and bore the long-lost diary of Former President Wilbur Soot. The journal was found in the abandoned ravine where Soot had led the rebellion against Former President JSchlatt. The diary revealed many shocking and dangerous truths about both of the infamous men, but none were as horrifying as the secret he kept about our new President, Tubbo Underscore. In a journal entry written near the beginning of his exile, Wilbur Soot revealed that Underscore was the estranged son of Johnathan Schlatt. Having been friends since their young adulthood, Schlatt and Soot shared many secrets with each other, many of which had presumably died with them. However, with this new finding in Soot’s personal journal, many of those secrets are now being brought to light.
According to Soot’s writings, Schlatt had a son whom he abandoned when the boy was barely six years old. He had kept his son's existence from Soot for almost the entirety of their friendship, and when the secret became known, the two men split. Whether giving up his son was for his own benefit or for the boy, it allowed Schlatt the freedom to become the giant personality he was known for. But this shocking revelation begs many questions. Is this why President Underscore, or should I say, President Schlatt-Underscore, wasn’t among the exiled at JSchaltt’s inauguration? Had there been some sort of agreement made between father and son? Was President Underscore’s execution staged to gain the rebels' trust in Pogtopia? The confusing missing body following the explosion suggested something was afoot, even if nothing was confirmed at the time.
Other writings from Soot indicated that the connection between Schlatt and Underscore is what led him to distrust the secretary-turned-spy. Soot also implied that President Underscore was a hybrid like his father, with matching horns, ears, and other features, but whether this is true has been confirmed yet. Still, Soot did mention the presence of an adaptor on Underscore’s person during the later period of the Pogtopia revolution. This potential similarity between father and son may have been another reason for Soot to distrust Underscore during his time as a spy.
Don’t believe us? Here is the entire journal entry that was written by Soot himself:
November 12th, 2020
"I never actually planned to write this out, you know.
I figured I’d just let it stew away in my brain to rot and fester till there is nothing left but decay and maggots to feed on my now worthless mind. I used to be good at writing. It used to bring me joy, relief, peace of mind. But now I feel like if I don’t write, all my secrets will be lost with me…with L’manberg.
That is, if everything goes according to plan. What was I going to write about again?
Ah yes, Tubbo and JSchlatt. Schlatt is my oldest friend. He was my brother long before I ever met Tommy. I saved his life, and he saved mine in more ways than one. And now he has killed me. He has crushed every piece of me that ever mattered into fine dust and threw it into the wind. Tommy still chases the fragments but there is nothing left to save. Schlatt made sure of that. He took my country, my reputation, my success, my son.
Oh my son. To see Fundy standing by that monster’s side, proud and happy, it killed me faster than any explosion will. Punz’s sword and arrow never did as much damage as hearing my son, my beloved boy, my champion, say I meant nothing to him. He gave his loyalty to the same man who abandoned his own son. Schlatt, the man who took his son, barely six years old, and dumped him on some doorstep, never to see him again. Schlatt was so focused on his own life that he couldn’t even bother to give his boy a proper coat for the cold.
Schlatt who would rather be a petty thief than give his son a father. He doesn’t deserve Fundy’s attention. But neither do I, I suppose. And then there is Tubbo, the spy. The yes man. The boy who follows in the footsteps of anyone who gives him a smile. He’s followed Tommy through playful skirmishes and blood-soaked battles and never once questioned him. Tubbo never once disobeyed an order no matter how demeaning. I used to play a game with Tommy to see what we could get Tubbo to do, to take, to say. At the time, I found it funny, something to pass the time. But his loyalty served him well.
It only cost him his home, his health, his lives, his safety. It left him in the hands of his father who couldn’t so much as acknowledge his existence except when drunk. Because that’s the sad truth of it isn’t it? I don’t think Schlatt had planned on telling me about Tubbo. After all, he hadn’t so much as mentioned having a child until after Sally’s things went wrong.
He wanted me to leave Fundy, the same way he left Tubbo. He told me what the boy looked like, what he was like, but couldn’t tell me his favorite color. Fundy’s favorite color is orange.
It took me a long time to find Tubbo. Not that I was really looking that hard, but I knew he would be around somewhere. I recognized him as Schlatt’s son as soon as I saw him. He had the same cold, hard, determined eyes that you could only see if he thought you weren’t looking.
He laughed loudly, pursued his passions with pride, was fiercely loyal, but I know Schlatt. So I know Tubbo. He hides his emotions perfectly; Tommy could learn something from that. He smiles and laughs no matter how much he hurts, he agrees with whatever you say, whether he believes it or not. He tells you what you want to hear, all while making plans behind your back in case he decides he needs to solve the problem his own way. Tubbo would make an excellent President for a nation that likes to hide behind a facade of loyalty. I thought maybe he could be trusted. I thought he was a good man.
Any sane person would. I am no longer sane. He did sacrifice himself, didn’t he? Doesn’t that deserve some trust?
But no, Tubbo’s death was unforeseeable but was not for political reasons if I know Schlatt. He was angry so he used Techno to destroy the thing he was angry at. He tends to do that. After all, he used L’manberg to destroy me. And Fundy
Perhaps if in some far future someone finds this journal, let me tell you a little about Tubbo Underscore that he doesn’t want anyone to know. He doesn’t even know I know. I know he most likely wears an adaptor and is a hybrid. Ram, most likely, but you can’t always be sure. I should know that better than anyone. I know the reason Tubbo always acts so calm and collected around Schlatt is the sheer amount of Pufferfish-based stress-relievers he takes. I know he desperately wants his father to love him and care about him, and now that he is publicly with Pogtopia he is questioning his decision to be a spy.
He desperately craves his father’s approval. I can see it in his eyes. I know that look. I know sons don’t always take after their father but I fear Tubbo has. Tommy will learn that the hard way. I know that if all else fails if I can’t go through with my plan. He will make an excellent Vice President for a President who doesn’t know how to be impartial. They balance each other out well, don’t they? Tommy and Tubbo. Inseparable. But they will learn. They will learn just how I did that friendship doesn’t matter.
Family doesn’t matter.
Power matters.
If you don’t have power behind your very name you will always end up at the bottom of the barrel. They all think I’m crazy.
Maybe I am.
I think I am.
But one day they will learn.
L’manberg is lost.
Tommy will see it too one day. So will Tubbo.
I see this all going one of two ways. We win. L’manberg is destroyed with all those who are in it. Or, we win and Tubbo inherits his father’s country.
Because at the end of the day, Tommy will never be President. He will either fail or turn it down. Because he is selfish and he is naive. He wants to believe things will turn out the way he wants, but I know better.
I can hear him calling me now. I think he’s made soup tonight for the men. I say he is selfish, but he does care. His heart is too big for this world, but unfortunately, it has made him blind to reality. I have to go now. He likes it when I at least pretend to eat.
Maybe, at the end of this, he’ll join me in death. I hope he does.
I don’t think I could handle the afterlife without him.
-Wilbur Soot"
And there you have it, folks, from the man himself. Every secret President Underscore has tried to hide.
It forces us to question why, if his identity made him untrustworthy, Soot would appoint Underscore as JSchlatt’s successor as President. Did Wilbur Soot expect his former protege to follow the same path as his father? Could it be that the madman knew something about Tubbo Underscore’s true nature that would aid in the destruction of our beloved home? And is this why Underscore never revealed this information to his citizens?
Now, dear reader, I ask you: Are the people of L’manberg safe under the leadership of President Underscore,
and will the son follow in the disastrous footsteps of his father?
Ranboo's hands grew sweaty as he read. His eyes scoured the words over and over again, trying to determine whether they spoke the truth.
It was so far-fetched, and so much of it was speculation that it was entirely possible that it was completely fabricated. But then again, wouldn’t it make sense? He hadn’t known Schlatt or Wilbur. Maybe Schlatt had lied to Wilbur, perhaps he didn’t, and Tubbo had never found out. Tubbo would have told at least someone if he had known. So wouldn’t it make sense to think that he didn’t know about it? He wanted to deny it as he walked holes into the wooden floorboards in his living room. Tubbo would have told him, wouldn’t he?
No, he wouldn’t have. Why would he? His thoughts were far from logical as he continued to pace. Ranboo looked outside his window at the still-sleeping town. They would all soon wake to the same news, and panic would ensue. People’s trust in Tubbo was dented a little after Tommy was exiled, and another blow could be detrimental to his presidency and the nation’s peace.
Ranboo dragged his hands through his hair, unsure of what to do.
All that he did know was that he needed to warn Tubbo of what was to come.