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Spoke was starting to grate on Wemmbu’s nerves. Seriously, did he think Wemmbu was stupid? Wemmbu could tell he was up to something, and it only took a few potions of invisibility and a little bit of stalking to figure it out: exploits.
Now, Wemmbu was the only one who knew the full extent of what Spoke had been getting up to with Jamato, and as far as he was concerned, Spoke’s newfound power was as good as gone. Spoke could hide the exploits under giant buildings, he could destroy every End portal, he could try to trap Wemmbu, he could maybe even dare to try banning him. But Wemmbu had seen what had happened the last time Spoke had a command block, and it hadn’t been good.
This wasn’t about morality. This wasn’t about being a hero. It was about proving a point.
Wemmbu knelt on the netherrack below him and gave it a soft knock. It gave a hollow, thin sound, evidence that he was only a few layers away from Spoke’s little underground secret. His tail twitched as he faintly heard Spoke’s voice from below.
“Oh, my God,” Spoke sighed in relief. “Oh, my God, they’re still here. I actually thought- …ok I need to block this up-”
“What’s still here, Spoke?” Wemmbu grinned, dropping down from the ceiling. The shock on Spoke’s face only gave him more enjoyment. It was funny that he thought he could do this, but the joke was over. It was time to get rid of the jester.
Wemmbu looked over at the armor stand and the pieces on it, glinting purple in the dim light, redstone trims blazing sinisterly against netherite. “Is this what you’re talking about?”
Spoke composed himself. “Wemmbu.” Anger bled into his voice. “What are you doing inside of the Wonder. I told you not to come in here-”
“Yeah, I think I’m starting to see why, Spoke,” Wemmbu said, saying his name again, playing with it, toying with him. He couldn’t help it – he would milk this for all he could get.
“There’s nothing here for you,” Spoke insisted, glaring at him. “I think you should leave.”
Wemmbu shifted his stance, putting his weight on one of his feet and his hand on his hip, dangerously close to his sword, Nightrider. A mocking stance, one that said he’d already won. “And why would I do that? I just got here.”
“I think I’m gonna go for a while,” Spoke said, doing his best to keep a neutral face, to be his usual cheerful self, but Wemmbu could see the desperation in his blank, white eyes. “I’m just gonna go for a little trip, and I’m packing my things up right now. I think that’s what would be best, so if you would just let me finish-”
“Yeah, I’m gonna be leaving now,” Wemmbu said with finality, throwing a pearl and grabbing the armor off the stand. The stand was knocked over and the pieces fell to the floor, where Spoke scooped them up, stumbling to sprint away.
“How did you-?!” Wemmbu snarled, chasing after him. He took Nightrider’s hilt and removed it from its sheath in one swift motion, its balanced weight comfortable in his hands. “Y’know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re dead.”
Spoke laughed, manic desperation and relief spilling from his lips as he mined into the wall. “You leaving would be best for the server, Spoke,” Wemmbu said.
“So, you should let me leave,” Spoke suggested.
“Not with those exploits,” Wemmbu demanded, coming ever closer.
Spoke glanced back at Wemmbu, and Wemmbu couldn’t help but enjoy the fear in his eyes when saw the purple demon coming toward him. It was something like relief to him when he saw that little jewel of an emotion in his enemies’ eyes; completion. Success.
And with his sword by his side – his weapon, his strength, him – he would make sure that treasure would never go uncovered.
~~~
“Hello, Zam,” Wemmbu said, tilting his chin up to examine the woman on the throne before him. He crossed his arms – not in defense, but in interest, something that was hard to come by these days.
Only proved even more how much of a problem Spoke could be for the server.
Zam glared at him. “What the hell do you want, Wemmbu?”
“Ok, let me cut to the chase,” Wemmbu said, putting his hands on his hips. Nightrider clanged softly against his armor when he shifted his stance. “Your guards here said you’re looking for info on Spoke.”
A smirk tugged at the corners of Zam’s mouth. “I am a little bit, yeah,” she drawled, walking down the steps toward him. “You know, I put a lot of work into this empire, and I don’t want him destroying everything I’ve built. I’m sure you understand,” he said in a way that suggested if Wemmbu didn’t understand, he would be very sorry.
“Well, I’ve had my own encounters with him while he was on his exploit escapades. I tried to kill him, he tried to imprison me, all that.
“I want him off the server, Zam. You and I have a common interest, and you have a lot of power here in your empire. If we work together, we can ban him.”
Zam looked at Wemmbu for a long time, her chilling golden eyes examining him. Wemmbu didn’t falter, knowing that for once, he didn’t need to play anything. Zam could be a powerful ally in their little game of chess against Spoke. She wasn’t a pawn; she was as good as the queen to Wemmbu.
“Alright, Wemmbu,” Zam conceded. “How can I trust that you, however, won’t destroy my empire? You’re pretty famous for stabbing your best friends in the back with that little sword of yours.” She glanced unkindly at the weapon inches away from Wemmbu’s hand.
“I don’t betray people when interests align,” Wemmbu said flatly. “This alliance benefits me and the rest of the server, considering what a loose cannon Spoke is, and it can benefit you, too. After Spoke is gone, my business with you is as good as finished.”
Zam thought for a moment, then nodded. It seemed Wemmbu had gotten on her good side. “Tell me what you know,” she said.
Wemmbu opened his mouth to respond. Then his tail twitched and his head jerked to the left as someone in Netherite armor with red trims appeared in the throne room. He grabbed Nightrider’s hilt and flicked his wrist upwards, parrying an attack meant for Zam. He pushed the attacker back and caught a glimpse of their face – Mapic.
Zam backed up in surprise and her guards drew their swords, stepping forward. Wemmbu stared Mapic down, seeing his red-trimmed chestplate. It had the same trims that Spoke had, but he doubted it was exploited. Rather, it was a symbol of alliance.
Mapic didn’t wait a second longer, lunging forward with no fear.
Wemmbu would make sure he never lived to see his mistake.
~~~
Wemmbu brandished Nightrider, pointing it at the demon in front of him. His skin stung from the several wounds he’d gained in the fight against Flame. His heart pounded with adrenaline and desperation, something he didn’t like to feel often. Yes, he was desperate; he wanted to protect his civilization, his citizens, his friend, and most of all, the vault. But he would never let the desperation show on his face. He wouldn’t give Flame the satisfaction.
Guilt bit at his heart when he thought about the vault, reminding him he’d betrayed his friend by looking inside. Anger bit back just as fiercely when he was reminded of how Zam had set him up. Denial crashed down on both of them, strong as a wave in the ocean, destroying them like ships in a violent storm and leaving him vulnerable to the emotions that threatened to drag him out to sea by their tide, because surely it wasn’t true.
Wemmbu looked at Flame’s chestplate. No PrinceZam emblem. He was independent.
Then why didn’t Mane seem upset by his betrayal? Why were Zam’s soldiers trying to sabotage his civilization? And why was the vault empty?
Nevertheless, he didn’t waver. Nightrider didn’t lower a single inch even though he was on the brink of death, facing an unwinnable fight. Flame only grinned at him in triumph.
“I think I’ve had enough of your annoyances,” he said, twirling his sword as he stalked ever closer. “It was fun fighting with you. Easy. But now it’s over.”
Wemmbu braced himself, refusing to lose, but just when he was certain Flame would strike, there was a ping, and Flame froze.
He looked at the comm strapped to his wrist, stared at it for a few moments, then scowled, letting his arm fall to his side. He sheathed his sword, directing his glare towards Wemmbu. “You’re lucky,” he said. “Looks like you’ll be living to see another day.”
Wemmbu’s heart dropped. “What-” but Flame was already walking away.
When he was out of his sight, Wemmbu slumped against the wall, sinking to the ground. Nightrider clattered to the floor. He’d expended his supply of golden apples and strength potions, and he was bleeding in several places.
His head was above water, but something told him it wouldn’t last for very long.
Wemmbu’s comm pinged and he checked it. It was a message from Egg.
The Empress is here.
~~~
“I have a question,” Wemmbu said. He was confident by now that he was just getting played. All Zam had done so far was laugh at him, and he couldn’t help but beat himself up for actually feeling hurt.
“Fire away, Wemmbu,” Zam said, amused. A jubilant smile rested innocently on her lips as she laughed, but there was still something so evil about it.
“What’s actually in the vault that we’re supposed to be guarding?” Wemmbu asked, hoping Zam would rebuke him for asking such a question. He was supposed to be loyal, not ask any questions, not look in the vault – just help his friend.
Zam did not.
“No one’s even tried going in,” Wemmbu said. “Not even Flame. No one even wants what’s in it. They’ve just been coming for me. I just- I get the feeling all you’ve been trying to do is get me killed.” He couldn’t stop talking now. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. “And nothing’s even in there.”
The secret was out. He shouldn’t have said it, but he had a hard time caring anymore. Zam’s smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly as it became a smirk. “So, you figured it out,” she said.
“I think you just want to kill me, Zam,” Wemmbu said, his eyes stony and devoid of emotion as he looked up at her.
“Well, yeah,” Zam nodded in agreement. “Originally, yeah, I sent Flame to kill you. That whole betrayal thing was completely made up. But then I realized…” she jumped down from the lamppost, her sword and shield ready. “You’re not a threat. You’re a little too pathetic for me to kill you.” Her icy golden eyes had never seemed colder despite her obvious enjoyment, freezing Wemmbu in place.
“You know, back in the Trial Chamber, I kinda realized, well, you’re dangerous,” she said, using the word dangerous like she was teaching it to a toddler. “So yeah, I was gonna have you killed the moment our business with Spoke was finished, because you’d have no reason to be on my side anymore. But you… are just so unbelievably weak that I’m not going to kill you! I’m not even going to try! You’re not a threat to my empire, not even a little bit!
“I brought this, too,” Zam continued, laughing as she pulled out a yellow shulker box. “I was going to chunk ban you – that’s why I came here – but then I saw you here…” she shook her head and looked over the hill at his civilization in the distance. “Bloody, beaten, with no shoes on, in a destroyed empire with no citizens, and I decided, I don’t need to do any of this. I’m just gonna, I don’t know… mess around with you.”
And mess around she did.
Zam destroyed everything in front of Wemmbu like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks working his hardest on it for Zam. Like he hadn’t finally found someone who was just as determined and destructive as him. Like he hadn’t decided to always stick by her side.
If he hadn’t been sinking before, he was now. Wemmbu watched everything he’d built get decimated – and not just his city, but his pride, his reputation, his trust. And the whole time, he never drew his sword.
~~~
Wemmbu walked up the stairs to Zam’s new throne room, his mind buzzing with anticipation. He examined the palace around him – the beautiful décor, the color scheme he’d gotten so familiar with, the golden accents on the walls that made this castle a true marvel of construction, wealth, and power.
He itched to destroy it. Oh, how much more beautiful that would look, but he held himself back. He was here to do what he was best at – prove a point. Exhibit true power.
Everything in its own time, he told himself.
They stopped in front of Zam’s throne. Zam was there, scolding one of her guards. Wemmbu saw the guard’s face, their fear and shame, and felt no remorse. He was once in a similar position, after all, and he wouldn’t be if he had let his emotions make him weak. He got here by himself. He didn’t need his strength from anyone else.
“You have a visitor,” Max announced.
Zam whipped her head around to glare at her guards. Her glare turned into pleasant surprise when she saw just who the guards had brought.
“Wemmbu,” she said in a welcoming, warm tone. “In my empire. What are you doing here?”
Wemmbu only looked at her, letting defeat slip into his voice. “What else could I possibly have to do?” He said almost sarcastically, yet hurt. “You have Egg.”
“Really?” Zam said in a low voice, relishing the moment. Wemmbu let her, knowing it would only hurt more once he did what he came here to do.
“I’ll play your little game, Zam,” Wemmbu said.
“Follow me,” Zam said, not doubting Wemmbu for a second. She knew very well that Wemmbu would never present himself like this unless he was truly beaten – or so it seemed.
Wemmbu followed Zam to her vault. The redstone lights had been broken, making it much darker, the only light coming from the hallway. There wasn’t even a door to the vault anymore, and when Wemmbu followed Zam inside, he saw Egg in a cage atop a pile of riches, surrounded by Zam’s strongest guards.
“We don’t exactly have a cell for you,” Zam said, “so you’ll be sharing one with Egg here.”
“Lovely,” Wemmbu sighed, following him down the stairs. Zam opened a chest, revealing enough cakes to fill up every slot in his inventory – except four.
“You know the drill,” Zam said. “Everything out, starting with the weapons.” Her eyes flicked to Nightrider, hanging from Wemmbu’s belt.
Wemmbu didn’t hesitate to unsheathe it and drop it on the ground. I have a new power now.
And it’ll change the name Wemmbu forever.
~~~
“Empty armory,” Wemmbu sighed as he looked in the last of the barrels of Zam’s old armory. “All the items got deleted or something, I guess.”
“Hey, I remember that from last time we were here,” Egg said. “I put it in my book.”
“This book sounds like it would’ve been really useful to have during all this,” Jaden remarked.
“Yeah, maybe we could actually get more of an advantage over Spoke,” Egg said. “Man, I really wish those guys didn’t force me to hand it over.”
Wemmbu clenched his jaw in annoyance. “We don’t need more of an advantage,” he said, straightening. “Spoke doesn’t have as much power as you think he does, and I have what we need. C’mon, let’s search the rest of the place,” he said before either of his friends could get a word in.
The three glided down into another room, careful to avoid the debris from when Wemmbu had blown up the empire. Wemmbu looked around and his eyes landed on Zam’s half-destroyed, burnt and charred throne at the end of a yellow carpet. He stared at it for a good while before his attention was taken elsewhere.
“I actually don’t remember what was down here,” Wemmbu said, walking towards an opening in the wall. There were stairs that led to a dark place covered up by half-broken iron bars. He walked down them slowly, his hand on the wall to guide him.
His footsteps echoed softly in the tunnel as his hand brushed against the cold stone. The palace didn’t necessarily look like it had been abandoned for two years; actually, it felt like the orbital strike Wemmbu had called onto it had been relatively recent.
Wemmbu stepped carefully between some bent iron bars and into Zam’s old vault. “Oh, yeah, it’s where Egg got put in a cage,” Wemmbu shouted up. Jaden came around the corner and so did Egg. “Yo, you kinda do that a lot,” he giggled.
“I remember, bro,” Egg said, not amused.
Wemmbu looked in some chests by the vault entrance. They creaked open, a small layer of dust on them shifting. “Just a bunch of cakes,” he muttered. What the hell had Zam been doing with her time? Wasn’t this castle technically from the war they’d had? Zam should’ve had more valuables or fighting equipment in here, but Wemmbu supposed not. After all, the memories from that long ago were pretty fuzzy.
Wemmbu walked around the room in a circle, noticing there was nothing here for them. From across the room, Jaden called out, “Hey, there’s a sword in here.”
Wemmbu turned around and saw him knelt on the floor, looking in one of the chests by the entrance. “I thought it was just a bunch of cakes-” he started.
Then he saw what was inside.
Wemmbu bent down to carefully pick up the sword in his hands. “Nightrider,” he breathed.
“I’m sorry?” Jaden arched a brow.
“This is my old sword,” Wemmbu said. “Oh, my God, I left it here when I torched this place.” He used his thumb to swipe away some dust on it, revealing his reflection in the blade.
He blinked, and for a moment, his reflection looked different. Younger. Softer.
Wemmbu looked away, replacing it with the sword he’d been using. He slid it into his sheath and left his other sword on the floor.
“Let’s keep going,” he said.
~~~
Wemmbu stood on the oak pillar, looking out into the Farlands as the sun rose. Gambit weighed heavy in his hands, Nightrider in its sheath and Crucible on his back. The wind blew softly, a stark contrast to the beating of Wemmbu's heart as he waited for the army to come.
He didn't know why he'd taken that damned sword. It was by far the best, most reliable sword he'd ever owned, and it carried memories with it – perhaps that was why it had some sentimental value – but those memories were as good as dead to him. They told a story of a vengeful, powerless fool, forced to teach too many a lesson by his personal hand. These days, it was so much easier; all he had to do was give a wave of his hand and the earth would be gone, or a smash of his mace and the echo of a death toll would roll over the server like clouds before a storm. There was no personal vengeance because there was no weakness or humiliation.
And that was why he would never let Spoke take his orbital cannons. He would defeat him, and nobody would have to worry about him losing his power like he was something to be pitied or fussed over. Nobody would have to tell him to destroy the orbitals for the greater good of the server.
Most importantly, nobody would be in danger except the ones who dared to cross him. He could protect his friends, he could stop his enemies from using them against him ever again. (Yet, he'd had this power by his side for nearly a year, and that hadn't stopped the Wraith or Arachnid or the bandits or the Law or anyone who ever saw him as just a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded.)
A strand of his hair fell into his eyes and the sun turned his skin golden. His hair was still growing back after Lettuce cut it. Wemmbu didn't move to tuck it behind his ear. He didn't move an inch, feeling detached. Gambit became weightless in his grip.
Wemmbu stared, unintimidated and unfazed, into the sun as it changed the colors of the sky minute by minute. Here he was, at a last resort, protecting his orbitals from Spoke and the army he’d somehow gained, but no less powerful. Spoke gave him the gift of desperation, and Wemmbu planned to use it against him. He wouldn’t be played like a pawn – no, this was his chess board.
He would make sure Spoke never took this away from him.