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"But Flame is just not a good person," Parrot had said.
"He just strikes me as someone who's lonely," Theo had replied.
Now, Flame rolls their words around incessantly in his head.
Lonely? As if. Flame has friends, and could have more if he wanted to. He just doesn't, because friends weigh him down and are liabilities. Flame has better things to do than "hang out" with people (i.e.: hunt Wemmbu and get his rematch).
And who cares if Flame isn't a good person? No one on this damn server is – it's literally an anarchy server. Flame doubts that even Parrot has never killed someone.
But otherwise, Parrot's freaky motives to save the server is stupid and meaningless, and therefore Parrot is stupid and meaningless. Not to mention his hero complex, thinking he can determine who's a good person. Theo is stupid too, just at a lesser scale than Parrot, for assuming Flame is lonely over alone – and there is a difference, he swears.
But at this point Flame is going in circles.
Nevertheless, Lomedy continues to listen intently, nodding his head encouragingly when Flame pauses to gather his thoughts.
At the very least, he supposes, Parrot will be useful, since he accepted Flame's request to go after Wemmbu. With the aid of the (self-proclaimed) smartest player on the server, Flame will get his rematch in no time. Not to mention it cost him basically nothing – at best, Parrot will realize he's no match for Marlow, no matter how smart he thinks he is, and at worst the diamond player will kill him and Theo both.
Now Lomedy is making that face again, the slightly disappointed one he makes whenever Flame mentions killing people. He doesn't say anything about it though, instead finally hefting up a barrel with flowers inside and gesturing for Flame to follow him out of the shed they'd been conversing in.
Flame isn't sure what he said that Lomedy doesn't like, since he's only speaking the truth – Parrot and Theo might die, they might not, but that's not his problem. Frowning, he follows Lomedy out to an empty patch of dirt, where his ally lies the barrel down and begins fussing with the ground.
"So you're just going to let them walk into a death trap after they help you?" Lomedy asks, shifting the barrel carefully so it's closer to the dirt patch.
"I told them I'd give them the vault's location, not warn them of every possible danger," Flame argues, "They should know it's not gonna be that easy, bro."
Flame hears Lomedy sigh, though he's facing the barrel and it's muffled.
"I'm just saying, bro," Flame tries again, shuffling Fragger between his hands. "I don't owe them anything."
"You don't need to warn them of everything, and I guess you don't owe them either. But, I mean, it wouldn't hurt to tell them that the strongest Minecraft player is the one guarding the vault." He shrugs, reaching into the barrel and carefully extracting a red flower, dirt falling out of its root bundle in thick clumps.
Groaning, Flame places an enderchest, swiftly pulling out the book with the coordinates and its corresponding quill. He's not doing this because Lomedy told him to, mind you. He's doing this because Parrot would be more useful as an ally if he weren't dead. He sits down on the enderchest.
"Whatever you do, beware of her," Flame reads aloud as he writes.
Lomedy snorts, "Can't just tell them outright, huh?" but he's smiling gratefully anyway.
They lapse into silence as Lomedy diligently places the flowers into the dirt. He carefully realigns them when their stems start to droop and pulls out a water bucket from time to time to moisten the dirt and feed the plants.
Flame watches from his seat on the enderchest. The two lapse into silence.
"Aren't you a farmer, bro?" Flame asks finally, crossing his arms. He's long put the book away, hidden safely and waiting for when Parrot's mission is complete.
The farmer in question sends him a quizzical look. "Yeah?"
"So isn't this all–" Flame gestures at the flowers "–kinda gardening, bro?"
It's not a pressing question, but Flame has never seen Lomedy plant flowers before. He's always focused on crops that will provide, like carrots or melons or something.
"They're poppies," is the reply, as if that explains anything.
The stilted tone of Lomedy's voice makes Flame hesitate for a moment, but he pushes further, saying, "Okay?"
"They symbolize remembrance. And peace and hope." The farmer explains slowly, turning to face Flame directly, his back to the flowers – poppies.
"So what bro? You're going to plant one for every dead person on this server or something?" Flame knows Lomedy cares for the people of the server, but this is a little absurd.
A sigh. "No. Well, not exactly."
"No? Then what, bro?"
"They were his favorite – my old teammate, that is. He planted them a lot, until the Mafia, when he stopped farming with me altogether. He told me once that he wanted to continue, though, and when the Mafia stuff was over, he wanted to plant them again to remember everyone lost and use them as the server's symbol of peace." Lomedy explains.
Flame stays quiet.
"It's stupid, I know," he returns to planting the poppies, his hands still as gentle and steady as before. "But I wanted to fulfill his wish, since the Mafia stuff is over now. I hadn't gotten a chance to before, since I was worried they'd get ruined by Spongs."
"Your friend, he gave you your mace?" is the only thing Flame finds himself asking. The answer is obvious, but whatever.
It's clearly not the question the other expects, but he nods regardless.
With little contemplation, Flame shrugs, "Well do whatever you want, bro. Farmer, gardener, it's not my business."
But he stands up from the enderchest, mines it, and collects it in his inventory. Then, he strides over to the farmer and promptly sits down on the dirt next to Lomedy.
"So how do we do this?" Flame asks – and no, he's not helping out because he cares, he's just bored and this is something to do.
He tries to ignore the way Lomedy's face lights up.
The farmer reaches into the barrel and extracts a poppy for example, urging Flame to do the same. With his poppy, Lomedy explains that all they need to do is make a hole in the dirt, not too deep but enough to keep the flower stable. Then, loosen the dirt encasing the poppy's roots by squishing it lightly with a hand – not too hard though, he explains, or the roots could get damaged. Then just place the flower in the hole and make sure the dirt is even.
It's easy, or so Flame thinks. When he gets started he cracks the stem of the first flower, the snap making both him and Lomedy pause. Lomedy assures him it's fine, they have more flowers, so Flame tries again.
And again, and again, and again.
More broken stems. Some he would make the holes too shallow or too deep. Others he would overwater and watch silently as the poor flower drowns.
And when Flame finally burns the next poppy to ashes, he just groans and sits back. He'd helped Lomedy plant all kinds of crops during the farm war, so why was this so difficult? Maybe because those were mainly seeds, and wheat and melons are less delicate than flowers, he thinks.
Soon enough, Flame begins to think this was a stupid idea. It's not like these flowers will provide anything but a good look to this place, and Lomedy seemed just fine to do this on his own. The flowers clearly don't like Flame, and he certainly does not like them.
"I'm giving up bro," he sighs.
"No you're not," Lomedy states.
"What? Bro, the - the flowers just won't stay up, or the stems are too easy to break or – It's just – it's not working for me bro," Flame argues.
Notch above, Lomedy laughs.
"Wha – what? Bro, stop – why are you laughing?"
"You're the same guy who told me to get back up and finish a war, and the same guy who's conducting the manhunt of a dead man." Lomedy says.
"He's not dead!" Flame interjects.
"I'm just saying. You're so persistent, and now you're letting a flower beat you?"
There's a distant memory of a man clad in orange advising him that sometimes it's best to give up. Flame remembers scoffing and telling his brother that there's never a good reason to give up fighting. The thought makes Flame startle. It's sudden and maybe doesn't apply directly to this situation but it makes sense. Giving up is giving up after all, no matter what scenario, and giving up is something Flame doesn't do.
After all, if he's going to surrender to a few flowers, how is he ever going to keep the will to find Wemmbu and reclaim his title?
Flame huffs an unexpected laugh. "Okay, okay bro. Show me again."
"You're just too harsh, I think. It's like you're so used to holding a weapon and fighting that it's difficult to loosen yourself and do things gently." Lomedy explains.
Flame tilts his head skeptically. "What, you got all that from just broken stems, bro?"
"No," the farmer sighs, taking out a flower and messing around with it, "I got all that because I know you, Flame. You're a fighter, not a gardener or a farmer. You're used to gripping a blade, so much so that you don't know how to not."
Flame blinks. What? He goes to speak, an indignant interjection of how that's not true, but it seems Lomedy isn't done.
"I mean," Lomedy hesitates, blinking at the delicate greenery in his hands. The poppy shines back up at him, a stunning crimson red that only makes Flame think of blood. "I'll always be your friend, Flame. I guess that's what I've been meaning to say. And, uh, it means a lot to me that you're so willing to help with stuff that's not your expertise."
Maybe indirectly, maybe not, but either way Lomedy has swung the conversation in a big circle, back to Flame's earlier complaints about Parrot and Theo. His first thought is, I don't need friends, and it's what Flame wants to say, is what he would say, if this was a few hours earlier. But it's not, and suddenly Flame realizes that maybe he's not so alone – after all, who else would he voluntarily be planting flowers with, while knee deep in dirt?
No one, that's who (not even Mane, but his brother never liked flowers anyway). No one but Lomedy. His . . . friend.
When Flame hasn't responded for a while, Lomedy continues. "I don't always agree with you, and I definitely don't like that you kill people so blatantly, but – but if you ever need a safe place to restock or get some advice or you just wanna chill," he shrugs, "I'll be here."
"Thank you" is maybe what a normal person would say in this situation.
Instead Flame insists, "show me again," and he holds up another flower.
•••
The flower field has been destroyed.
It's something Flame barely registers, just a whispered thought lingering in the back of his mind.
The flower field of gleaming red poppies that Flame and Lomedy had taken hours to plant and perfect and keep alive. The flowers they had planted for Lomedy's old friend – the friend that, despite not having the name of, Lomedy had trusted Flame with the memory of.
But the law doesn't care about flowers, do they? They don't know the meaning, and Lettuce wouldn't stay around for some cringe sob story about friendship and remembrance. Flame can understand that, he supposes, but it's still frustrating to see them so shamelessly trampled. He's sure it hurts Lomedy more to see a reminder of his friend be ruined like that.
Unfortunately, Flame can't stick around to apologize about the flowers, though if he was able to he doesn't think he would. He's not sure he would know how.
The law is here, and they're after Flame. And because Flame had stopped by to restock, despite Lomedy telling him to leave, now they want the farmer too, and it's his fault.
And there's Lomedy, who had told Flame, promised him he had someone who he could trust and confide in. Someone he could count on. Flame had clung to that promise with everything he had. So when there was nowhere left to go, he'd thought it obvious to head to the farm. To regear somewhere safe.
Yet Lomedy is standing in front of him, and anger is written all over his face. Anger at Flame. In some way, it vaguely reminds him of Manepear, and the falling out of the Blindfold Brothers. Flame finds he doesn't want his friendship with Lomedy to end, especially not like this, even if it already had in the eyes of the other.
"You're not even that skilled," Lomedy spits as the Law decimates the farm, the flowers, in the background.
Flame should fight back. He would, if this was anyone else – Wemmbu, Lettuce, even Ash or Mane. But Wemmbu and Lettuce and Ash and Mane had never planted flowers with Flame. Had never sat there with endless patience, waiting with a smile for him to get the hang of it. No, they would be done with Flame the moment a flower stem snaps.
And then he says it.
"You're just a lost cause bro."
Flame helps him anyway. Lomedy is still his friend, and Flame needs to keep him safe from the Law. They'll make up like always. They'll replant, the flowers will regrow.
Lomedy gives himself up to the Law. He doesn't look back.
Flame is left alone with the shattered ruin of a farm and a single enchanted mace. Looking at the glimmering hamme, Flame is struck with the thought that now Lomedy has nothing to remind him of his friend.
He takes a deep breath, resolving himself to save his friend. First, he'll need to get stronger. Everything will be okay again.
•••
His first opportunity comes faster than expected. Days, maybe a week later, with some invis bottles and the searing need to be better, Flame is partaking in training with Swight himself.
Swight has rallied up a strange little gaggle of players, the most prominent of the group being Yungwill, who Flame unfortunately recognizes from the PrinceZam Empire. Yungwill quickly proclaims that Flame – invisible, to keep Swight and the others from reporting him – is now his rival.
Flame ignores him for the most part, focusing on training, on becoming Swight's sidekick. And he does, when Yungwill's cowardice exceeds his bravery in a fight and he leaves Flame to die.
Swight teaches him everything he needs, and Flame is glad to have one of four skills officially mastered.
It's unfortunate in the end, when their companionship (if it could even be called that) breaks as Flame's invis disappears and Swight's previous opinions on him change. Somehow, despite everything, Swight lets Flame go, watching him leave with a blank face.
Manepear and the newly added spear are next. Mane is reluctant at first, and when he does agree the two are downright awkward.
It takes a moment for them to warm up to each other again, to be like how they were before Mane betrayed the Empire. Back to being brothers. But when it happens, something makes Flame's heart swell. Something tells him this is all he's wanted all along.
Something tells him Lomedy doesn't matter, the Law doesn't matter, and mastering PvP doesn't matter. All that matters is Manepear. But, no. As much as Flame loves and has missed his brother, he has a friend to save and weapons to learn. He can't stay.
Mane can't stay either, and part of Flame thinks that maybe that's best. The two part on terms that Flame could only have hoped for when he set out to find Mane.
He finds his next trainer outside the ruins of the old BAT base. Itzrealme. Why he's here of all places, Flame doesn't know, nor does he care.
Him and Itz have a nice chat, and after proving his worth, Flame is thrilled when the retired player agrees to train him.
Itz teaches him all about the mace, including tricks that Flame is sure even Wemmbu doesn't know. It's a bit frustrating though that he mace is more difficult to master than Flame had thought – it was supposed to be a cheap copout to gain the upper hand in battle, after all.
But Itz teaches Flame bout more than just the mace. He tells him about "the zone" as well. The zone is something that neither Swight nor Mane had told him about, and Flame wonders if they enter it without even realizing what it is.
And then Itz is asking for Flame's mace. And Flame doesn't – can't give it to him, because it's not really his mace. It's Lomedy's mace, and if Itz takes it then Flame can kiss the little remains of their friendship goodbye.
Flame makes Itz promise to give the mace back, and gives it to him when he agrees. Flame should really know by now that promises mean nothing on this damn server, when Itz tells him he'll only get Lomedy's mace back when he pops his totem three times. With no other choice, Flame fights.
His totem pops once. Then twice. Itz's doesn't pop a single time. Flame retreats into a cave. He stays there for hours, maybe, looking through his inventory and his enderchest for anything useful.
It takes a while before he realizes he's a dumbass. What's the easiest way to counter a mace? Slowfall arrows. Which he has in his enderchest. With the scraps of a plan formed, Flame exits.
Itz has been waiting patiently at the entrance of the cave. He watches Flame come out, shoulders slumped and posture defeated.
"You can pop my totem," Flame says flatly.
Itz falls for the act, just as planned. When he jumps, mace in hand, Flame shoots the arrow, grinning as it intercepts Itz's fall and slows him down. The two resolve to fight sword-to-sword.
Flame doesn't speak, neither does Itz. It's totem pops once. Then twice. And a final, third time. Green and gold sparks shower Itz as he halts.
Flame feels a kind of great relief when he gets Lomedy's mace back. Not long later, Flame and his third teacher part ways.
There's one left skill to learn, and Flame knows exactly where to find his final teacher.
Soon, he promises himself.
Soon, he will have his reputation once more, and Lettuce will have nothing. He travels all throughout the night, u able to rest when he's so close to achieving his goals.
A red poppy glistens against the sunrise, and Flame's determination grows tenfold.
He will not lose this time, that's a promise. After all, giving up is not something Flame does.