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Mane was stuck doing patrol work again. It’s idle, boring guard watch that keeps his nerves on edge and leaves his tail twitching, all because he and a few guys decided to go to a bar. Hell, even all-serious and strict Pangi came along with eyes that relented to Sohrin’s enthusiasm and a smile that carried even as his gaze met Mane’s. Basically everybody was down for a long drink into the night and a pounding headache in the morning, but they got caught by PrinceZam coming back from it and among everybody there, Mane would say he got the most consequences.
So now he’s here: forced to keep his job by circling the perimeter of the empire’s walls and occasionally flying overhead for a fresh breath of air and an opportunity to scream into the clouds about how much he hates this job.
In fact, it’s probably his seventh time doing this as his elytra catches the air and earns a boost from the rocket in his offhand. He’s almost tempted to yell, “I hate my jobbb!!!” just short of the clouds so that way PrinceZam can hear it like an incessantly annoying bug buzzing in his ears, but he breaks through the clouds before he can even inhale a breath.
The damp, cold air of the clouds is not refreshing considering the wind has already stolen all of Mane’s warmth, but he makes a poor attempt to shake it off and get his blood pumping through airborne limbs until he slows slightly in midair and sees the sun setting far into the sea of clouds.
For a few seconds, Mane’s eyes trace the shifting hues of warm, bright gold seeping off of the blinding white light of the sun. Pink hues melt into the sky blue that’s transformed into an indigo to prepare for the night, and when Mane looks up, he swears he sees a little white star already twinkling in the sky.
And then his vision tilts with gravity with the wind pulling him down, down, down.
Mane’s heart leaps as the PrinceZam Empire quickly comes into view, the architecture of the castle and the village being outlined in the very light he was admiring not even five minutes ago. As soon as the initial shock of cold, the pull of falling, and the threat of a spire in perfect position to skewer him like some disgusting human kabob fades away to make room for locking in, he flicks his wings, lights a rocket, and hears it whistle. Mane slams into the ground, his tail barely helping him with his balance. He rolls for a few feet and crashes into a tree with a painful kick to his side before sitting up with aching limbs, and dear gods he is having a great time!
Mane laughs and laughs and laughs, barely able to pull himself up as he does. Every ache in his muscle cries out to him in protest as he practically exists (he probably lost a heart or two despite the netherite armor). He tries to fight back the urge to laugh about nearly dying, about feeling adrenaline from something that wasn’t dying because he was getting attacked, but some kind of virus or silly bug must be in the air because Mane takes a good handful of minutes before he settles down and simply decides to lean on the tree as he watches the PrinceZam Empire be engulfed in sunset light.
Sunsets, Mane impulsively decides, is his favorite part of the day, so he makes it routine to watch as many as possible. On clear days like this, he’ll sit for as long as an hour waiting for it. In the middle of rainy storms and pessimistic weather, Mane simply hides under the crown of a particularly thick tree and watches the clouds shift into smoky gray. He watches it until there’s no more light for the sky to offer, and then he pull his sword back into his inventory, feeling a hundred times lighter after witnessing the day come to a close before reporting to PrinceZam with that stoic tone and nonchalant expression that he’s long perfected in favor of not dealing with PrinceZam’s annoyance.
Unfortunately, though, today is one of those days where Wemmbu decides to torment PrinceZam for fun! Which means dealing with PrinceZam complaining about how ungrateful Wemmbu is despite everything that they’ve done for him and so on, so on.
Mane’s honestly close to sleeping behind his blindfold, but he hears PrinceZam’s words shift into his name and jolts back awake like a zombie coming back from the dead.
“Manepear. You should go after him. You’ve got the best tracking skills amongst us, after all.”
Mane lowers his head, bows, and feels his spine grow rigid in an attempt to stop himself from pledging what little freedom and dignity he has left each time he does this. He barely manages to keep his tail still behind him as he says “I will do my best” and leaves with the echo of the door closing behind him.
When Mane tightens the straps of his netherite armor and adjusts his inventory, his ears prick sharply. Just from that subtle sound of foliage brushing against the hard plate of dragon scales can Mane tell that its Wemmbu sitting…right there: in the trees not even twenty blocks away. The lantern lights reflect in Wemmbu’s luminous lavender-pink eyes when he opens them, his eyes a dead giveaway in the night because it naturally glowed like bioluminescent creatures in an ocean’s waves.
Mane unsheathes his sword and scoffs.
“Bro, I can see you. You should come out now.”
Wemmbu stands up, his armor clinking heavily, and when he jumps to the floor, it’s heavy with an intent to kill.
“Where did Zam put him?” He asks, his usual aloof, nonchalant voice threaded with something cold and almost…vulnerable.
Well it’s not like Mane knows what the hell he’s talking about, so he simply tightens the grip on his sword and watches Wemmbu warily.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mane starts, his mind honestly not completely into the battle as it favors to wrack itself for the answer to Wemmbu’s obscure and impossibly unimportant question, “but you’re kinda bothering PrinceZam and the empire, so I think you’re gonna have to leave.”
Wemmbu grits his teeth. He wordlessly splashes his pots and Mane does the same in half the time. The moment he’s done though, Wemmbu’s prepared for his strike and parries him harshly. Mane’s honestly a little lax right now (and if somebody guessed it was out of boredom then they wouldn’t be wrong) so it surprises him enough that he has to step back and balance himself with his tail.
Wemmbu doesn’t give Mane a break, though. The moment that he finds his footing, Wemmbu’s sword is already close to cutting his head clean off his shoulders. Blood rushes through Mane’s head and that’s when he finally decides to lock in and really pay attention because Mane realizes that Wemmbu’s moves are weighed down with an exhaustion that probably came from messing with PrinceZam earlier or whatever unstable emotion is running through his system.
It doesn’t take long before Wemmbu’s strikes start becoming lucky as Mane blocks and maneuvers his body and sword in a way where Wemmbu’s sword is given only a graceful second to nick him before missing completely.
Mane splashes another pot as the strength runs out but he’s already gotten Wemmbu low enough to start inhaling golden apples, so he’s honestly loosening up at this point.
The moment that Mane’s blade finds a weak spot, Wemmbu does an incredibly Wemmbu-like thing and splashes something silver and almost translucent in certain angles of the light down at his feet.
Mane blinks and Wemmbu disappears with an invisible potion seeping into his skin as he removes and stores his armor away, blanketing him in that precautious protection as if Mane’s ears won’t just pick his presence apart.
Except…Mane also kinda doesn’t feel like looking for a player who doesn’t exist in physical form, so he just says an unenthusiastic, “Wemmmmmbuuu???” before shrugging and giving up the moment Wemmbu’s subtle footsteps fade away for good and in the direction of the castle.
Mane sighs.
He’s gonna get guard duty again, isn’t he?
Spoilers, but nope! He does not get forced into doing guard work. You know what he does get forced to do though? Sit in his room and contemplate his life decisions, stew in his anger, and being forced to stay isolated for three days straight.
This has to be treading on some kind of crime against humanity, right? Sure, PrinceZam regulates the rules as the empress, but that doesn’t mean she’s suddenly valid in putting him in solitude without a soul to talk to for seventy-two hours straight, right?
Mane grumbles, falling onto his bed again after trying and failing to enjoy this pathetic excuse of a book. Who in the world even reads allat anyways?! It’s seven hundred pages of history about the spear, but its title literally says, The Art of the Spear: An Official Guide of the Weapon of Speed. You would think that with a title like this, Mane would be reading some actually insightful stuff about how to pierce an enemy, but no. It’s just: ohh, look at this history thing about how the spear can be dated back to before servers were created, how boring.
Mane looks out his window. The sunset was starting to show which meant two more days out of three to go, but he’s been trapped here and nothing about a sunset will make that fact better.
“I really hate this place.” Mane starts saying as he absentmindedly fixes his bed. “I get to eat good, sleep in a safe place, and get paid enough to repeat that, but there’s no…” Mane stills, his hands lowering on the blanket. “Freedom.”
And what is a lion without freedom except for an animal in a cage?
Mane scoffs. He needs to breathe some air. Some actual air from the outside world and see the sunset without a barrier of glass preventing its light and shadows from touching him directly.
Mane takes a pickaxe out of his inventory. He got his stuff taken away and was fucking boat-checked of all things to prevent escaping, but he managed his pickaxe through because there’s no way they genuinely thought he was gonna sit here like a punished child and think about what he’s done.
Mane breaks through some of the quartz and replaces it haphazardly. He’ll fix it eventually but at least he can just watch the day come to a close.
One precarious climb onto the railing of the balcony and a few minutes of pulling himself up as high as he can leaves Mane on the roof of one of the spires. Somebody might catch him sitting here—maybe Pangi or Sohrin, but what are they gonna do about it? They won’t kill him over breaking out of his room (not that they can). It’s not like he’s breaking into and out of the empire like Wemmbu and betraying PrinceZam, and—
Mane stills, his eyes locked on the sunset until it leaves a quiet, contemplative dusk. He hears his breathing come in and out shakily, but he’s not scared. Hell, maybe he’s a genius!
Mane smiles as he breaks into his room and doesn’t even bother replacing the missing quartz. They’re in his inventory right now but if PrinceZam wants them so badly, he guesses he’ll just put them in a chest somewhere or personally pay for Horace to bring two pieces of carved quartz blocks because Mane doesn’t care anymore.
There will be no more rules, no more boring guarding, and no more existential crises late into the middle of the night about whether he’ll be a guard till he dies of old age, because Manepear? Oh, Mane is gonna betray the empire. And he’s gonna do it with a smile on his face.