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It takes a mace before Mane decides to train Wemmbu the art of the spear, but he honestly doesn’t care what that implies about him. So what if he wanted Wemmbu’s bloodstained mace with kills that didn’t belong to him? It was a mace, the most powerful weapon on the entirety of the UnstableSMP and probably one of the only few ones to exist in hands that weren’t ClownPierce’s.
Wemmbu would get unparalleled training in spear pvp and Mane would get a mace that probably doesn’t even need shining with how much Wemmbu prizes it like it’s his firstborn son.
Still…accepting to train somebody and using the full extent of his power to train said person was two different things and Manepear just got up on this lovely, fine morning. He needs at least a good breakfast, a chungie to warm up on, and a whole hour of sleeping in the sun because Wemmbu has never been a morning person. He probably never will be unless somebody comes promising him an opportunity to orbital strike cannon the PrinceZam Empire again.
So Mane wakes up early because that’s just how the internal clock in his body has always worked and he makes breakfast (for himself at first and then, grudgingly, for Wemmbu and the little chungie that he brought with him) so the treehouse smells warm and inviting and no, Manepear is not doing domestic things just so he could show off to Wemmbu the cooking skills he most definitely doesn’t have, no…what??? Who would do such a thing?! But yeah, anyways, Mane stops cooking an hour after he’s started and he thought he’d be the only lucky sucker to eat the hot stacks of pancakes and syrup that he had bought from a market a few hundred thousand blocks away, but as it turns out: Eggchan wakes up the moment Mane is done and immediately takes a plate from a cupboard.
He doesn’t own too many because, well, living solidarity meant that Manepear only used so many dishes at one time. So when Eggchan finds a flat plate after looking for a good minute, he mumbles a tired “thanks for making breakfast” and takes a decent count of three pancakes.
Mane points out the butter and the syrup but Eggchan, for some unfathomably, cursed reason, doesn’t go for those. Instead, he asks for some fruits that Mane is surprised he owns, washes them quickly in the sink, and cuts them in half before scattering them dryly over the pancakes. Mane’s nose scrunches at the sight, but he supposes he can’t be talking because his plate is a pool of syrup.
“Where’s Wemmbu?” Mane asks just to say something and fill the quiet air.
Eggchan hums, a sound of amusement acknowledging Mane’s skill, he’s sure, and chews with his mouth closed politely before replying, “Still asleep. Not a morning person.”
Mane can’t help it. He feels a smile twitch on the corners of his mouth and he nearly allows it to form completely into a soft chuckle until Eggchan decides that they should have a conversation.
Okay, well, this is totally not awkward and a little strange to be talking to his estranged brother’s best friend without said brother in the room. Totally not awkward at all! So Mane takes a few pancakes, feeling slightly pitiful to Wemmbu that he doesn’t get to try them when they’re still hot and fluffy, before unashamedly leaving only three more pancakes on the table for him to eat when he wakes up whenever. Mane doesn’t bother adding any more syrup because he decides to take a page out of Eggchan’s book and quietly puts some fruits on his.
“So, what did you wanna talk about?” Mane asks, cutting his pancakes in half so he doesn’t leave unceremonious bite marks in them. “If it’s about the pancakes by the way, then I don’t how to answer you because I don’t own any measuring cups—”
Eggchan chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no, no. It isn’t that.”
Mane narrows his eyebrows, pretending as if Egg being vague wasn’t making him nervous. His tail sways once, twice, before he asks,
“Then what’s up, Eggchan?”
Eggchan, despite having a singular (and admittedly creepy) eye for a head with no eyelids, looks over to the direction where Wemmbu is still snoozing off without a care in the world, and his gaze almost looks…soft isn’t the right word.
Mane clicks his tongue.
Oh.
Eggchan’s gaze lingers in Wemmbu’s direction tenderly before turning back to Mane with that same nonchalance and unreadable light. Mane would snort in amusement at how similar the two are if it wasn’t for the fact that Egg was being openly…sentimental, he assumes, towards his brother.
“I wanna know your insights on power.” Eggchan says, the conversation now pivoting into something completely unexpected but familiar. Mane narrows his eyebrows. “I’m writing a book.” Eggchan fills in, and somehow his words come out more carefully, like what he’s admitting to Mane is confidential. “I want to know what power means to you: somebody who's clearly powerful enough to take on a whole army, but chooses to stay in solitude away from the fighting.”
Mane tilts his head a little, a small smirk forming on his lips.
“Is this some kind of assignment that Wemmbu has you on? To extract info outta me or something?”
Eggchan shakes his head. He looks serious despite having no eyelids to, well, frown in seriousness.
“It’s a personal project of mine.” Eggchan replies, still vague but it’s enough to convince Mane that a little interview won’t compromise his safety. “People are still afraid of your name whispered throughout the streets despite the fact that you’ve been gone for nearly a year now, but that’s not how you view power, is it?”
Mane hums, taking another idle bite and chewing slowly to deliberately spend a moment longer than necessary on the question.
“An astute observation.” He applauds with a monotone voice, putting his plate to the side. “Well, power to me is…solid. It brings stability. Routine.” Mane gestures to the whole space with one paw. “I don’t gotta worry about people jumping me because, well, they’re too damn scared of me. And if they do have the balls to actually try, then I’ll live knowing I have enough power to defeat them.” He hums again, “Fear and power isn’t the same thing.”
Eggchan perks up at that.
“Then how would you differentiate them?” He asks, his voice thick with curiosity.
Mane smiles at the childish-like whimsy of it before stifling it away and replying,
“Having power, being powerful, can cause fear. I use my power to intimate people into thinking twice before stabbing me with some flimsy sword, but for the most part, I use it to just protect myself.” Manepear takes his plate back and stuffs more pancakes into his mouth. “If you have to depend on fear entirely, then maybe you don’t have enough power, you know.”
Eggchan holds onto Mane’s eyes for a moment, the cogs in his…head (?) audibly and visibly turning before he says,
“So to you: power is just a means of protection.”
Mane shrugs.
“Yeah. Now fighting. That’s different. Fighting is fun. I don’t always do it to gain power, it’s just a sport. Something I’m good at and something I enjoy doing. That’s why I don’t like Flame and Wemmy, you know? They fight because they want those useless titles of the strongest, but they don’t realize that if they keep going about fighting like that, then they’ll lose the power they so desperately craved.”
Eggchan doesn’t tense, but his voice does become more serious as he asks,
“How come?”
The smile on Mane’s lips turns bitter.
“Flame abandoned me for power. Wemmbu would’ve gotten lost in whatever allegiance he decided to put himself in if it weren’t for you, Eggchan, being his moral compass. In the end, they’re just gonna accumulate enough hatred to perpetually put themselves in a loop of danger and fighting. The moment you have to start fighting to survive, that’s when you’ve lost your power. That’s why I don’t fight for power. I fight for fun.” Mane’s ears flick. He looks over Eggchan’s shoulder and finds Wemmbu rubbing his eyes as he enters the kitchen.
“Oh hey, Wemmbu. Me and Eggchan were just havin’ a chat.”
Wemmbu rolls his eyes and plucks off a raspberry from Eggchan’s plate. His face squints from the sour taste, but he just takes a glass of water from Mane’s purified cauldron and downs it in one go.
“I don’t really wanna know what you’ve guys been up to so, uh, let’s hurry and start training.” Despite his words, Wemmbu takes the remaining pancakes and pours a copious amount of syrup and fruits on them.
Mane sighs at the untouched butter. Guess nobody likes them but Flame.
“Eat up first, bro. I’m taking a nap.”
Wemmbu gawks at Mane, the hand holding a fork with an entire pancake skewered through it hovering in midair.
“A nap? You’ve literally given me a single week to be trained by you. I can’t be having you take naps and wasting time—”
“I’m the trainer, bro.” Mane says, standing up and taking care of his dishes quickly. “I get to choose how time is honored.”
“You’re wasting your time too, you know!” Wemmbu counters.
“It’s called a cat nap.” Mane points out, already making his way to the top of the canopy. “I’ll be up in an hour. In the meantime, clean up your mess and warm up. Eggchan, you too. You could benefit from some training.”
Eggchan holds his hands up in defeat.
“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not him, bro. I think Wemmbu’s got it.”
Mane doesn’t stay for whatever Wemmbu’s gotta say. He makes his way up the stairs, mutes them in the back of his mind, and when the sunlight warms his skin in that familiar way, he breathes in deeply and smiles.
He’s second best to Flame, and Wemmbu is clearly improving in pvp. They might choose to fight him one day and he might lose, but aside from a bruised ego, at least he’s still alive.
He sees the clear blue sky, its idle puffy clouds. The UnstableSMP could be surprisingly peaceful despite how dangerous everybody living in this server was. In the back of his mind, Mane vaguely wonders if Wemmbu or Flame has ever realized that too.