In today's chapter: Things get a little angsty, but some reconciliations are made. Also, Quackity discovers he can outrun the pickaxe but not the blade.

Phil could only deal with so many issues at the same time.

The house was coming along, slowly but surely shaping into something he'd almost call habitable. He had rearranged the upper floor so two of their beds would fit, the rest of the space used mainly for storage and an enchanting table that belonged to Technoblade before. Most other items had been moved downstairs, which was also where he placed his own bed. There was security for Phil in sleeping near the door. As stupid as it was, it made him feel safe.

Two days had passed since the execution and while Phil had kept busy with the renovations, it was starting to sink in how much he needed and wanted his old stuff back. Most of it would be in his lodgings in L'Manberg still, scattered over the floor as he couldn't imagine any of them taking the time to clean up after they rifled through his chests. Getting his weapons and gear would mean traveling into the city – which Phil wasn't fundamentally opposed to if it weren't for the fact that...

Phil stood from the chair at the crafting table he had been spending most of his waking hours at lately and ignored the crack that caused in his back, dull shots of pain down his spine that quickly faded. Tommy was sitting on the floor with Techno, fingers tracing the off-colored line of a map as he spoke animatedly. Phil looked at them for a moment in silence.

He could tell Tommy was outrunning something, and he didn't mean it in the literal sense like Tommy was running away from Dream. No, this was terrible and had dug its roots in deep, refusing to be unburied. Phil supposed they'd have to deal with that at some point. But there were so many things they had to deal with and the tangled mess was starting to form a web of threads he couldn't unravel.

"I need to go back to L'Manberg," he said, pretending not to see how Tommy tensed at the name of what used to be his home. "All my gear is still there and some of it can't simply be replaced."

"No crap, you had a lot of powerful shit," Tommy responded quickly.

Phil sighed. He wasn't about to point out that at this rate, Techno's first new words learned in the common tongue were going to be the rude ones. The mere idea of a tiny piglin cursing like a sailor was pretty ludicrous, if entertaining.

"And I'm taking Techno with me."

That did make Tommy shoot his head up, leaning back on his hands from where he was sitting on the floor. "Is that safe? They're the ones that killed him."

"Yes, Tommy. I hadn't exactly forgotten." The memory was too fresh in Phil's mind still. Maybe that was another reason he couldn't sleep properly anymore. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing that damn anvil, the look on his lifelong friend's face as he passively accepted he was about to die. He had witnessed Technoblade dying before – several times – but it was one of those things he could confidently say he never got used to. "It's still safer than leaving him here."

Tommy sputtered at his implication. "Are you saying I can't protect myself? Cause I'll have you know-"

"Not if Dream comes back."

And Tommy flinched as if he had been slapped. Phil felt profoundly guilty, but he knew he was right. All that mattered right now was keeping both of them out of harm's way, no matter where that harm may be coming from. If Dream came back and Tommy froze up or panicked as he had done last time, there was no guarantee he would be able to look out for himself, let alone Techno in his current state.

Which was where the second problem arose. As Phil got up and pulled on his outer layers, preparing to make the long trek to L'manberg through the Nether, Techno got up too and started to dawdle around his ankles and near the door. While still this young – and especially with the resurrection being this recent – Phil was used to Techno displaying separation anxiety, preferring to keep Phil within sight or at least with a clear idea of where he was at all times.

Leaving him alone with Tommy could turn out to be a terrible idea for all of them.

"It'll be easier," he said then, hoping it would at least make it clear to Tommy that Phil wasn't trying to insult his capabilities. "You should lay low until we're back."

Tommy bit his lip but nodded after a moment. "Yeah, I guess that'd be a better idea." His eyes shifted back to the trapdoor that led to the basement. Phil had seen the hole Tommy had dug for himself and apparently lived in for a short while. Maybe they could expand it, make Tommy a proper bedroom so he didn't have to share anymore. Have his own space to settle down in, make it feel more like a proper home.

Phil should keep that idea on the back burner for later.

Techno stuck close to his side as they left for L'Manberg.

The journey took a little longer than he'd hoped because Technoblade kept getting distracted by the Nether.

Phil was reminded of why he avoided traveling through that realm with a young Techno whenever he could. Every stray vein of gold or pool of lava had to be rigorously inspected in minute detail. A few times Phil had to pick the tiny piglin up and carry him away before he started mining for ingots on the spot, forgetting they were supposed to be heading somewhere. They were also delayed for ten minutes when they came across a tribe of traveling piglins, with whom Technoblade had a lengthy conversation of which Phil did not understand more than a few words.

It was always strange to witness how much more at ease his friend was in the Nether at first, a trait Phil had always known him to grow out of with time. He had asked Techno about it once, to which the other had merely shrugged and not offered a proper explanation. Phil guessed it was simply one of those things that would remain a mystery to him. A lot about Techno was like that, an enigma.

Pretty ironic, considering they had really known each other longer than most people would ever get a chance to.

When they finally made it, midday was already upon them; the sun forming a bright disc high in the sky to signify noon had come and gone. Phil headed straight for his old home, taking a detour to avoid having to pass by the front of the stage. He didn't think he could face looking at it again.

As he had predicted the house was a right mess. Several of his chests had been broken and some of his supplies clearly looted in his two days absence. But they had left his weapons, his armor. Items they'd knew he'd come back for sooner or later. Smart bunch.

"You like tidying up, don't you mate?" Phil asked Techno jokingly and the child stuck out his tongue in answer, face scrunching up in clear disgust at the suggestion. Phil laughed. "I thought so. But you'll still help me, right?"

Between the two of them, it was easy to shift through the disorder and retrieve anything useful, including a few stacks of redstone that Phil was sure would come in handy. He strapped his pickaxe to his belt happily, feeling more secure with the tool tugged back into its usual spot. They were outside again in no time, squinting into the afternoon glare. Phil was just wondering if there was anywhere else they should go to since they had come all this way already when somebody called his name.

"Tubbo," he returned the boy's greeting indifferently. Phil could not blame him for what had happened, but that didn't make the lingering resentment easy to shake. When Tubbo didn't approach them of his own accord, returning to typing away on his communicator, Phil took the first steps to cross the distance.

"How have you been?" Tubbo asked. The question might have been mundane enough, that didn't mean Phil could not see all that went implied beneath the surface. He took a moment to think over his response, feeling Techno pull at his sleeve slightly but dismissing it.

"We're handling it," he decided on. "What about you guys?"

Tubbo cast his eyes aside for a moment, then forced a smile. It was brittle and empty. "I'd say the same. There are a few things going on, but that's not what I wanted to talk with you about, it's-"

When a soft whine came from his side Phil shifted his attention immediately, the next series of jerks at his sleeve a lot more urgent in nature. Techno was not focussed on him, but rather staring at the stage which they had moved to stand in front of when Phil had gone to talk to Tubbo. He hadn't noticed it himself, but Techno clearly had. The wood was discolored in rusty hues, the cage gone though the pulley system used to raise the anvil hadn't been disassembled yet. Techno's chin was tilted down and his small distressed noises wouldn't stop. Phil put his hand on the side of the piglin's temple, shielding the stage from view.

"Maybe we should talk somewhere else?"

With a nervous hand gesture, Tubbo beckoned them over towards the path that led out of town, near where an improvised training ring had been constructed. Quackity and Fundy were sparring while Ranboo watched, nobody else seemed to be around. Phil was duly grateful, preferring not to involve any more people in this mess than they already had.

As they walked away from the stage Techno went quiet, blinking out of what had come over him quickly. Phil kept his hand in place just in case. Tubbo noticed him doing this.

"I thought you said he doesn't remember."

Phil exhaled softly. "Yeah, it's complicated." He wasn't going to elaborate on it more than that. He saw no reason to. "What did you want to talk about, then?"

Tubbo perked up, ear flicking slightly. "Oh! Yeah, I wanted to know if you would come with me for a moment actually. There's something I want to show you."

"Sure." Phil waited for Tubbo to start leading the way, but the kid didn't move. His hands were pinching together, considering how to put his next words into phrases.

"I don't think Techno should come," Tubbo said just as Phil was starting to think he'd mistaken his intentions in offering to take him somewhere. "It might be unpleasant. It's about the things we uh... recovered."

Phil caught on to his meaning and paled. "The body?"

"No! No, we uh, we took care of that." Tubbo gulped, throat constricting with the motion.

The decision wasn't actually an easy one to make. The entire reason Phil had refused to leave Technoblade at home was a moot point if he was about to do the same here. Thankfully, the matter of choice was taken from his hands.

"I'll stay with him," Ranboo volunteered, clearly having listened in on the conversation. "I mean, I think you should go, Phil. I really do. I can watch him for a bit." Ranboo took a few steps closer, then reconsidered. "Techno, do you want to watch the fights with me?"

It didn't escape Phil's notice that this was the first time anybody aside from Tommy and himself had directly addressed Techno since the execution, instead of just talking about him to Phil. The piglin nodded, looking up at Phil both in uncertainty as well as looking for approval. Phil nudged him on. "I'll be back soon," he promised. "A couple of minutes at most."

Techno trudged over to Ranboo's side, still keeping a little distance between them as he intently watched the practice fight through the wooden bars. Phil turned to Tubbo and allowed his shoulders to sag, showing his exhaustion. "Alright, show me."

Tubbo kept up a string of idle chatter as he led Phil to the place Techno's items were being kept, giving the impression that the silence would choke him. Phil answered mostly in hums and grunts, dropping the pretense of having the energy to keep up a proper conversation. The items were laid out on a table, the torn cloak draped over the back of a chair. Techno's weapons and tools had survived the execution unscathed, but the crown had dented horribly and Phil scowled at it, feeling the gap inside him grow ever more hollow.

At least Techno's skull must have caved on impact. He would have hardly noticed the pain of death this time.

"What did you want to show me, exactly?" Phil was taking the weapons, the thought of leaving them behind unbearable suddenly. His fingers glided over the wooden handle of the Axe of Peace, imagining he could feel some kind of phantom warmth from the last person who held it. Even if his better judgment knew it was silly.

"This." Tubbo held out his hand, fingers curled lightly around the gold metal of a totem of undying. Its green eyes gleamed dully in the light, small beady gems that mocked Phil for all their uselessness. "Technoblade had it with him. I don't know why he wouldn't use it." Tubbo's voice wavered with restrained emotion, sounding betrayed. As if it was a personal slight that Techno hadn't used the totem.

And it was almost an apology, almost a regret. Phil felt the remaining fury draining out of him like a tap that had been opened. Who could keep up the strength to be angry in the face of such misery?

"He wouldn't use it by choice," he told Tubbo, taking the totem from his hand. "He never would have, he keeps them with him all the time solely for me. In case something happens."

He remembered it clearly, the conspiratory grin Technoblade had given him the first time they found a statue with the power to grant life. The kind of commitment he could put into it, to make sure Phil was safe. "This is great, Phil. One for you, one for me. And then we'll never die." It stilled within Phil's lungs. "But since Technoblade already never dies, you can use both! It's more cost-efficient." A thunderous laugh.

If he had the chance, he would have beat Techno over the head with that stupid totem and told him he better use it for himself for once. That Phil didn't care if his death was different – not permanent - the loss was still the same.

Phil would have told him how tired he was of always losing everything that mattered.

"Keep this too," Tubbo said softly. He pressed the earring into Phil's palm with trembling hands.

The friendship emerald was dark and stained with blood still. As Phil cupped it more tightly he could feel the matching one that dangled from his own ear. "Where?" he asked, breaking on it. He had to know. "Where is he?"

Tubbo tried a valiant attempt at a smile. "We buried him near Wilbur," he admitted. "I mean, it only felt right. They used to be close, when..." A beat of silence and then a sob tore through Tubbo's chest, the release of a thousand pent-up thoughts. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Phil- I'm so sorry." Neither could tell what he even was apologizing for.

Phil threw an arm around the boy's shoulder either way, pulling him closer against him. Tubbo heaved, hitched breathes of silent cries while his tears rubbed dry against Phil's coat. "I know," he said.

They stood there for a while more before they could even think to move.

Phil wasn't exactly surprised to see Techno inside the ring when they got back. In fact, he'd probably be more surprised if Ranboo had somehow managed to keep him out of it. That didn't mean the sight of the very real, very sharp iron blade he had given Techno being wielded against two grown men with wooden practice swords inspired him with confidence.

This could end in a number of ways, most of them badly.

Ranboo seemed relieved to see them, probably coming to a similar conclusion. Phil tried not to snort at Fundy's antics as he play fought with the child, clearly not putting his all into it. Quackity was a lot more heated by comparison, genuinely trying to land a blow or disarm Techno during their sparring. Techno outmatched him though, despite his small seize being such an obvious disadvantage.

Then, as all the rest watched in horror, Quackity did manage to strike and hit Techno against the shoulder. It really wasn't much more than a firm tap – hardly more than a bruise would be the result – but Phil wasn't in time to intervene.

Faster than he could blink Technoblade had lashed out and the honed iron traced a devastating line across Quackity's face. It nicked the upper part of his lip, a thin line all the way to his brow. He was lucky his eye hadn't been damaged, but when blood started pouring out Phil knew it was sure to leave a scar.

Quackity hollered loud enough that the entire server must have heard him. He pressed a hand to his bleeding face and cursed up a storm in a foreign language Phil didn't need to understand to get a fair idea of what Quackity was saying. He quickly got into the arena to pull Techno away by the elbow so he couldn't do any more damage.

For his own part, Technoblade just looked confused as to why his little stunt hadn't been received more positively. Fundy was laughing, but Tubbo looked horrified more than anything and Ranboo was rapidly switching between surprise and self-reproach. It had been his task to keep an eye on the toddler after all.

"This is why you don't pick fights with toddlers-" Fundy managed between hiccuped giggles. Quackity grumbled in response.

Phil made sure they were long gone before that lesson could sink in.