The night cradled a half moon above the cliffs over Pogtopia. Wilbur and Tommy had been in and out of the base all day, yelling and singing creepy songs, and they still hadn't returned from their last outing. Technoblade had spent all yesterday casting the iron their slave had mined into steel. Since this morning he had worked on smelting and crafting that steel into his latest weapon: a fireworks launcher, against the time the rebellion came to fruition. Silence filled the vast caverns, and the faint dripping of water from some hidden spring in the rocks only compounded it. The various framed quotes by Sun Tzu and the mythology books on the makeshift rocky bookshelves glowed in the light cast from the lanterns and the furnace. Techoblade's head brushed the low ceiling of the small cave as he moved between the anvil and the furnace. He did not look much like the menacing legend he had come to be known–he had pinned up his long pink braid to keep it out of the way as he worked; stained leather apron hung over a simple white tunic and trousers; gunpowder smeared the nearly flawless skin of his face.

The voices had been quiet today, as they had been since the Battle of the Burning Tower.

From far above, he heard Wilbur and Tommy's indistinct chatter as they emerged from the entrance tunnel. He heard them come down to the main cavern, but then go up again and out of Pogtopia. He paused, listening. A few minutes later, he heard them return to the main cavern, and then leave once more. They did this a couple dozen or hundred times until Technoblade considered coming out and seeing what they were doing, when footsteps echoed along the stairs, up from the main level, to his own cave. He continued working, waiting for them.

"Techno," Wilbur greeted him.

Out of his peripheral vision, Technoblade saw Wilbur and Tommy standing in the doorway to his room. Wilbur spun a piece of dynamite in his hand.

He seems festive.

Technoblade made a show of bending over the launcher with the pincers. "What? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Wilbur ignored him. "Schlatt announced today that he's going to throw a party. A festival."

"Celebrating lettuce and all the changes 'e's made," growled Tommy.

"Everyone's invited," Wilbur added.

"Ah!" cried Tommy. "Everyone except me and Wilbur! Can you believe that?"

Technoblade looked up. Wilbur seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at the ceiling a couple inches above him, no longer spinning the dynamite. Tommy, his face red, trembled with rage.

"Well, I mean–most people think you're dead so..." Technoblade began.

"They think Will's dead! Not me! I'm alive! I'm Tommy Alive Innit! They could've invited me!"

Technoblade thought of something and his ears perked up. "Wait, does that mean I'm invited?"

"Schlatt actually specifically invited you," Tommy answered, like it was Technoblade's fault. He hesitated, then added in an incredulous voice, "Are you a good friend of Schlatt's?"

That president guy obviously has somethin' up his sleeve. "Well, well, well. When is this festival?"

"Next week," said Wilbur. "October 16th."

Technoblade rubbed his gloved hands together. "It's been so long since I've gone to a party. This is perfect–my fireworks launcher is almost complete."

"Do you normally blow things up at parties?" said Tommy, glaring at Wilbur.

Maybe it was the way Tommy had said it, but something made Technoblade check, and he appraised his two comrades. Tommy's hair looked windswept, and sweat stained his shirt. Both of them looked tired. "Did...somethin' happen?"

Tommy groaned and stormed out of the cave. Wilbur watched him go, then faced Technoblade. "Dream paid us a little visit," he whispered. "But it's all right." Wilbur smiled, but he didn't meet Technoblade's eyes.

That doesn't sound all right.

He's not tellin' me everything.

Should I make him tell me?

But if Technoblade couldn't even trust his own allies, then he might as well pack up and go live in the snowy wastelands to the north. If it was important, Wilbur would tell him. Technoblade returned to filling the firework rockets with gunpowder. He felt Wilbur standing in the doorway–waiting for him to say something? Mr. Edgemister wasn't going to get it. After a minute, Wilbur left.


A week later, and Technoblade still hadn't left his room, but now the fireworks launcher was complete, so it was all worth not bathing for a week. This had actually turned out to be a blessing, as his stench became so bad that Wilbur and even Tommy didn't bother him, leaving him in peace to finish the launcher in time for the festival. Which he had no intention of blowing up. That loud child. The festival would be a perfect time to test out the launcher with the excuse of party fireworks.

He now wiped the launcher clean and slid it into the custom leather holster he had crafted for it.

As Sun Tzu once said: "Know thy enemies and know thyself, and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."

I know myself. I know what Pogtopia is capable of.

I have no idea how strong Manberg is, though. I don't know who they got besides that pathetic ponytail guy and that useless guard.

This might be a good opportunity to gain intelligence.

But this could very well be a trap.

Technoblade attached the launcher to his belt. "Hey, Wilbur! Tommy! Are we goin' to the festival thing in Manberg together?" he called down the stairs into the hallway. He hesitated, then grabbed the trident he had bought from the useless guard, which he had dubbed Riptide.

Wilbur stuck his head into Technoblade's room, a gas mask strapped to his face. "We weren't invited, Techno." Pause. "Remember?"

"Oh." Technoblade laughed. "Losers."

Wilbur let out a deep sigh, amplified by the gas mask. Techno waited for him to leave, but he didn't.

"Wilbur?" Techno strapped potions onto his belt.

"I–just–listen, you've been really engaged the past week, and–and other things–"

"I smell. You can say it." Technoblade popped a cork off a bottle and sniffed it. "That's definitely pickle juice and not a water breathing potion."

"Please tell me you're going to bath before leaving."

"You'd think the greatest threat to the land is an unwashed Technoblade. But fine, fine." Technoblade removed the launcher and unbuckled his belt. "You were sayin'?"

Wilbur took a deep breath, which sounded like a small hurricane in the gas mask. "Tommy, Tubbo, and I have been planning something, and since you're going to the festival, I thought you should know."

Technoblade laughed. "What? Did you finally get a girlfriend?"

Another loud sigh. Technoblade wished he could see Wilbur's face. "Dream provided me with TNT, and I've been setting it up under L'Manberg, in the bunker and in the sewers."

Technoblade nodded. "Okay. Cool. Cool. Just blow the government away, very cost-effective. That's what End-Gamers did. But with lightnin'." He filled a satchel with firework rockets.

Wilbur continued, sounding more confident. "And I'm going to set it all off at the festival, today."

"You don't waste time, I see, that's good." But Technoblade didn't know how he felt about his allies making major decisions without discussing them with him first.

Wilbur went on. "Tubbo's going to make a speech at the festival, and after he says the words, 'Let the festival begin,' I'm going to detonate the bombs I've set up."

When did he do all of this? Oh, right. While I was busy working' and not bathin'.

"As soon as Tubbo says that, get out of there. The whole town is going to be destroyed."

Technoblade kept nodding. "And everyone in it?"

Pause. "And everyone in it."

Technoblade shrugged. "Okay." He frowned. "Can't you wait until the end of the party to blow it all up?"

Wilbur turned and disappeared down the stairs. "We're doing it today, Techno."

"Fine. Just let me get some party snacks before you barbecue everythin'." He brightened. "And then I can really use my launcher!"

"No killing!" echoed Wilbur's voice.

Techno didn't know how that was supposed to work with blowing everything up, but he didn't question.

Technoblade took a trip down to the underground hot springs in the canyon. Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bowels of Pogtopia, smelling like a rose. Or at least like a sulfurous underground hot spring. He set out for Manberg.

It was mid-morning by the time Technoblade reached Manberg, everything bright and warm in spite of the cold wind, seeing how the sun decided to grace the face of the planet with its presence for this one day. The trees were turning red and orange and fiery yellow, adding to the illusion that surely winter and death could never come. The sparse stone and brick buildings of Manberg rose over the inlet, much the same as the last time Techno had seen them when passing by with Tommy a week or so ago. The monstrous scaffolding across the river looked a bit bigger, though. A cute little place. Almost a shame, really, that it would all be blown sky-high.

No guards at the border, as before.

What kind of janky security system do they have goin' on here?

Technoblade found everyone gathered on the Manberg community green by the ponds and the RV, and he waltzed over like he owned the place. The citizens stared, and gasps escaped. And rightly they should. If this was to be the last day Technoblade stepped foot in Manberg, then he aimed to make an impression. He wore not only his netherite armor, but also his cape, crown, and the knee-high black boots with the heels. About a dozen rings dangled from his long ears. And, of course, he had bathed. A man wearing black-and-red-checkered tights and a hood obscuring his face greeted Techno first, not sounding the least bit surprised to see him. "Hi, Techno!" His diamond-skinned companion glowered from the small visible part of his face.

Have I seen them before?

The others' greetings were more of what he had expected.

"Technoblade! You actually came?"

"Oh hi, Technoblade..."

The feathered vice president, dressed to the nines, accented by what looked like dime-a-dozen sunglasses, lost any advantage his dapper clothing gave him when he caught sight of Techno and fled, screaming like an orphan.

Technoblade decided to pretend that the Manbergians had just given him the warmest welcome possible. He spread his arms wide. "Hellooooo!"

The citizens smiled nervously, but gave him a wide berth. Aside from the checkered-tight man, only Tubbo seemed genuinely happy to see him. "Hello, Techno!"

Don't give away our…What does Tommy call it? "Pogchamp comra…"

"Heeeey." Technoblade looked round at them all as he strolled through the community green. A lot of weird people live here, he thought as a funny little person wearing a headband with cat ears and an oversized coat sulked by. He did a double-take. Hey, that's our slave! "These are all the people who were actually invited to the festival, right?" said Techno to nobody in particular. "I couldn't believe that there were people lame enough to not get invited, but apparently they exist."

He wandered around, making a quick survey of the place on the pretext of trying to find the refreshments. Colorful banners hung from the buildings lining the plaza. More bunting decorated the backs of the chairs. Lanterns covered just about every other available surface. At the far end of the plaza stood the huge podium with the canopy in the side of the hill the White House crowned. Two streams of water flowed from the base, framing a giant 'S' which had not been there the last time he had visited with Wilbur. It all felt rather showy to Technoblade. Something he could appreciate. Even the wanted posters with the unrealistically attractive renditions of Wilbur and Tommy's faces looked festive.

Technoblade returned to the community green, met by more uncomfortable stares. Wouldn't hurt to flex for these pitiful people. He waded into the chilly waters of one of the ponds and shot up into the air a couple times. Soaring above their gaping faces, he noticed that strange fluffy fox-man–Fundy– amble out of the RV wearing a dark green trench coat and hat and a terrifying artificial smile. The festive party mood soured.

What's wrong with this dude?

"Have you guys seen the games?" said Fundy, a little too cheerful as Technoblade came back down.

"Oh, there's games?" said Techno, a little too unsuspecting.

Fundy and the others gathered around a strange structure off to the side of the green. It looked like a giant desecrated American flag stripped of its stars and set up as a backdrop–for a dunk tank, apparently.

"Get up there, Ponk!" said Fundy. He sounded lighthearted, but Technoblade detected a demanding undertone. He supposed that most people wouldn't have the audacity to go up against one of the president's cronies. Ponk, a character with a Halloween-striped scarf, made his way up to the dunk tank and stood on the platform above the water. Technoblade couldn't tell what Ponk thought of the whole situation, on account of the aforementioned Halloween-striped scarf. But he looked cheerful enough.

Fundy backed up and raised his bow. "Check this out." He shot the arrow at a target by the tank. The metal lid of the dunk tank swung inward, dropping Ponk into the narrow glass box of water. Fundy laughed and the others joined in, though Technoblade could tell it was definitely forced.

Ponk slithered out, and Fundy reset the lid. "You go next, Niki," the fox-boy said.

Niki, that woman staying at Tommy's vacation house, her hair now dyed pink and spun up in two little strawberry Swiss rolls on her head. She climbed onto the dunk tank frowning. Fundy raised his bow again, but the creeper guy with the gas mask (had Wilbur told him about the past week?) stepped in front of him. "Hey, why don't you let somebody else go this time?"

Fundy reddened, but moved aside.

"Let me show you how it's really done," said Creeper Dude, and took a shot. He got it the first time, depositing Niki into the water.

The mood felt a little lighter. Technoblade laughed heartily along with the others. Niki crawled out of the tank, sputtering. Technoblade turned to actually scout out the refreshment table, when Fundy called out to him.

"Hey, Techno, you use that trident to fly, right? Can you shoot into the dunk tank with it?"

Technoblade came back down and appraised the tank. "Eh, I think I'll pass."

"Come on, it'll be fun." The fox-boy smiled, but Technoblade did not miss the sadistic gleam in the green eyes. He turned away again.

"I heard there's a chocolate fountain, and I don't want to miss that–"

"What, are you scared?"

Oooh, you don't want to say that, boy. Technoblade looked Fundy square in the eyes. "Why would I be scared? You're not gonna–oh, I don't know, immediately drown me to death once I land?"

Fundy let out a light chuckle. "No."

The silly little fox-boy was obviously going to try to drown him or something. Was this the trap? Was this Schlatt's idea? Technoblade shrugged. "Well, it doesn't sound like somethin' you'd do."

"I wouldn't trust Fundy, Techno," came Niki voice from behind. Fundy still smiled, more strained now.

I don't trust any of you. The voices in Technoblade's head mumbled sleepily, but remained down. He took a swig from one of the potions on his belt. "All right."

Niki gasped, but Fundy's smile grew, exposing his sharp canines. Technoblade flashed his own long canines back, then stepped into the pond again and launched into the air above them, aiming for the tiny square of water that was the dunk tank. He extended Riptide in front of him, and made a perfect landing into the water, letting it close over his head, and push him to the floor of the tank. He bobbed back to the top, but before he broke the surface, his head hit something hard, pushing him down again. Either the lid had come up again and gotten stuck, or someone had strapped it shut. He made a crack at it with Riptide, but it didn't budge. On the other side of the tank's glass, he saw Fundy grinning at him, not even trying to hide the vengeful glee in his face now. Faintly, he heard the fox-boy's high-pitched, almost maniacal laughter. The cat-eared-slave, Ponk, Creeper Dude, and Niki gathered around the tank, their expressions ranging from mild amusement to horror. Fundy spoke, his voice low and menacing: "I lied."

Niki climbed the tank, a knife in her hand, presumably to open the lid. Fundy reached up, grabbed hold of her waist, and dragged her down, receiving a few well-aimed kicks to the face. Technoblade suppressed his laughter. "I'm so sorry, Techno!" Niki cried.

He gave her a reassuring grin.

Always carry an underwater breathing potion on you, kids.

None of the others tried to rescue him. Technoblade didn't think Fundy would be able to keep Niki from doing what she wanted, but then the fox-boy whispered something to her, and held onto her hand–his knuckles turned white and Technoblade could see the veins of his hand stand out like blue cords against his pale skin. Amazingly, Niki didn't move, but stood very still, staring at Technoblade and trembling.

The checkered-tight man and the diamond-skinned person joined the others and gawked. Technoblade kept smiling and waved to them. I could use a sandwich...or a chocolate fountain right now. He leaned against the back wall of the tank, folded his arms behind his head, and grinned at Fundy, imagining how awesome he looked in his netherite armor and floating pink hair.

A minute passed. Five minutes. Fundy looked less maniacal and more annoyed. "Can this guy drown already?"

Technoblade straightened and began dancing. Niki's mouth twitched, and she looked away when Fundy glanced at her.

Eight minutes. Fundy was practically writhing on the ground now, squeaking: "Drowning...extremely...slowly...Techno, please, just die."

Technoblade batted his eyelashes at him and pantomimed eating and drinking. Fundy groaned. "I hate this. I hate this." The fox-boy looked as though he might really murder someone now, and besides, the potion was coming to an end.

Time to go.

Technoblade lifted his trident and burst through the lid, the lock Fundy had placed on it flying wide. "I left the stove on at home!" he called to the shocked group below as he soared above them. From faraway, he heard Fundy scream, "Noooo!"

Technoblade located the refreshment table in about three seconds. A bounty of delicacies awaited him: miniature crab puffs, deviled eggs sprinkled with cayenne powder, profiteroles stacked to look like a little house, cheese puffs, and angel food cake covered in cream cheese frosting and berries. And there was indeed a chocolate fountain, complete with three tiers and a little plastic statue of President J. Schlatt himself on the top, a stream of chocolate spewing from his mouth. Techno went from appreciative to awestruck.

A damp Niki came up beside him. "I recommend the caprese skewers and the profiteroles."

"Who made all this?" said Technoblade in a tone of wonder.

"Mostly me and Fundy."

This took Technoblade by surprise. "Really?"

"Yes. We run–ran–" She frowned. "We run a bakery here in town."

For that reason alone maybe they should consider not blowing up Manberg. Technoblade took a plate and heaped it with food. He reached for a deviled egg, but Niki grabbed his hand.

"I wouldn't touch those," she hissed. "Vice President Quackity made them." She said it like that was reason enough not to eat them. Techno decided not to take his chances.

"So, are you still living at Tommy's vacation house?" he asked.

"Yes." She pursed her lips. "But they found me. Schlatt sent his guards up there to drag me here to prepare for the festival. They said I needed to help Fundy with the food." She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry for what he did, Techno, with the dunk tank. I think–he's really not that bad, but I think he's very confused right now."

"Everyone, let's go dance at Karl's Party Island!" someone yelled before Technoblade could respond. Not that he could have if he wanted to; he had crammed his mouth full of profiteroles. He watched the crowd move as a single entity to the far end of the community green, and he followed, bearing his precariously-piled plate.

The "island" was a small square of grass-covered dirt in the middle of the slow part of the river, little more than a swampy puddle. A tiny rainbow-checkered dance floor decorated the place accented by a weird little stereo in the corner. The poor citizens of Manberg crowded onto the island and let it out. Technoblade stood off to the side by the tacky red-carpeted bridge connecting it to the rest of Manberg and tried not to throw up his angel food cake.

Wilbur and Tommy did not tell me how serious the situation was.

Manberg needs to be destroyed–if for no other reason than for this.

He noticed a little wooden sign by the bridge, which read: "Karl's party island."

In any case, as Sun Tzu once said, "To know thy enemy, you must dance on the pathetic Party Island with thy enemy." So Technoblade reluctantly gave his plate of food to an oblivious Tubbo and forced himself onto the dance floor.

"Any critical, national weaknesses we want to talk about?" he cried. "For fun?"

The dancing looked a trifle less jolly, and several people gave him uncertain looks. Nobody said anything for an uncomfortable moment.

"Wait, what?" said Fundy.

Technoblade caught Vice President Quackity staring him down on the edge of the dance floor.

What's he doin' here? Monitorin' the dancin'? Makin' sure no one's havin' too much fun?

I don't think that's gonna to be a problem here.

"Just guy talk," said Technoblade, and flashed Quackity his widest, most terrifying grin. The duck-boy quaked. No one seemed to hear, and the dancing resumed as before. Technoblade tried again. "Whoo! State secrets!"

"We can't do that," said Fundy.

And then Niki, who actually had some rhythm, asked, "Why not, Fundy?"

Fundy glared at Niki. She ignored him. "I'm not really getting a party vibe from you and Techno right now," he said, and crossed his arms.

You did try to drown me. "Whoo, party." Technoblade lifted his fireworks launcher, set it to maximum power, and blew it off into the clouds. "Party fireworks!" No one noticed, except for Fundy, who winced and covered his ears. Tubbo made some lame excuse and disappeared–along with the food. Technoblade thought he could see Wilbur and Tommy perched on the roof of the apartment building off to the side of the podium on the other side of the green. I hope nobody else can see them. Techno returned to the sidelines. "Those fireworks cost ten thousand dollars each," he muttered.

Suddenly, Fundy stood beside him, a grin which did not inspire trust plastered all over his face. "Hey, follow me. There's this really cool thing that Tubbo has installed–where is Tubbo, anyway?"

"This isn't gonna to end with you tryin' to drown me again, is it?"

Fundy, scanning the crowd for Tubbo, glanced back at Technoblade, anything but serious. "Yeah. Of course."

But Technoblade followed the fox-boy off the island, vaguely noting the raised red lines on the back of Fundy's neck when his hair shifted. They came to a different part of the community green where a boxing ring had been set up. The voices suddenly awoke, whispering.

As Sun Tzu once said: "If all else fails, punch your enemy to death."

Fundy wasn't exactly winning any points with Technoblade, even if he did work at the bakery, and maybe with him out of the way, Manberg wouldn't be such a terrible place, if not for the mere existence of President Schlatt and all the government he represented.

"You want to fight?" asked Technoblade.

Fundy looked as though he had been waiting all day for Techno to say that. "Oh, I want to fight, Techno. I want to fight."

"Awww, yeah."

"Fair and square. No armor, no weapons, no nothin'!"

Technoblade tried measuring up Fundy's skillset. The trench coat concealed all–if any–of Fundy's muscle-mass. He was tall, but not as tall as Technoblade.

I don't know how strong this guy is. But this is a good chance...He made up his mind. "All right, fine, we'll do it your way."

"Yeah! Just a fist-fight. A good ol' 1960s fist-fight."

Technoblade coughed. "It's 2020, Fundy. Get with the times."

Fake or not, Fundy's smile vanished.

Techno ignored him. "Hold on a skosh."

He turned and ran through the crowd which had formed around the ring. Apparently the voices in his head weren't the only ones ready for some violence. Technoblade hid behind one of the buildings and drank a third of his strength enhancer. The concoction zipped through his bloodstream, setting his muscles on fire, but now he had the fight in the proverbial bag. He wiped his mouth and rejoined the others. Fundy stood in the ring, trench coat and hat gone, not looking quite so intimidating in a plain white shirt and black pants.

"There you are," scorned Fundy. "I thought you had run off.'

Good sport Technoblade didn't respond, but removed his armor and cape and made a pile of them in his corner of the ring. "No touchy," he told the emo boy hovering on the sidelines. Technoblade grinned, cracked his knuckles, and faced Fundy.

"Count us down, Mr. Frost," said the fox-man to the cat-boy leaning on the ropes.

The slave looked vaguely surprised that Fundy had singled him out, but he straightened and called in a hoarse voice not accustomed to use: "Ten–nine–eight–"

"Uhh, we're goin' to be here forever," groaned Technoblade. He could almost feeling the vengeance steaming off of Fundy.

The cat-boy must have heard him, because he sped up, "Sevensixfivefourthreetwoone–GO!"

Technoblade shot forward, hit Fundy across the face, then jabbed him in the stomach and knocked him to the ground with a quick sweep of his heeled boot. Fundy landed hard on his nose, and made a sound like he was trying not to scream. Technoblade stood over him while the cat-boy counted again.

"Technoblade wins!"

Techno strutted around the ring, arms raised high as half the crowd cheered and the other half looked like they wanted to boo him. "Aaaaand, obliterated! Who's next?" Techno shouted. "Who's next?" J. Schlatt stood in the crowd (among those who looked like they wanted to boo him)–it would be rather satisfying punching him into the ground. Suddenly, a trembling Quackity entered the ring. Technoblade whirled on him. "You next, Duckie Boi?"

The shivering Duckie Boi miraculously maintained some semblance of composure and didn't pass out. That would have been awkward.

"Sorry, Technoblade, we're going to have to conduct a drug test on you."

The strength enhancer still burned through his bloodstream, and Techno thought about grabbing Quackity by his starched collar and drowning him in the dunk tank. He cleared his throat. "Could we wait another fi-four minutes first?"

"Please, Quackity," came Fundy's muffled voice from the bottom of the ring. "I feel like you should do it right now."

There went the party mood again. Those who had cheered for Technoblade before now regarded him with disdain. He returned to his corner of the ring and strapped on his armor as fast as he could, feeling the glare of the emo boy beside him. Sapnap. The weirdo who doesn't know when to quit. "I feel like we should wait four minutes."

"No, I don't think we should," said Fundy the Rug.

Technoblade took up Riptide and looked around. Ponk stood close by, sipping a cup of water from a straw wedged in the folds of his scarf. Techno reached over and grabbed the cup. He threw the contents into the air before flinging it away and flying through the still-falling water droplets. "I feel like I'm not here anymore."

He whizzed by the building Wilbur and Tommy lay on, keeping his gaze away from his two comrades huddled there, and landed near the refreshment table on the other end of the community green. He could still hear the shouts of wrath from the boxing ring, but they didn't go after him.

These Manbergians sure are a crazy bunch.

Wouldn't doubt if they're a bunch of orphans.

The checkered-tight boy stood beside the refreshment table, nodding his head to some music only he could hear. Technoblade sidled up to him. "Soooo, any secrets you'd like to share with me?"

The checkered-tight man started. "What?"

This is goin' to be difficult.

"State secrets. Somethin' Schlatt probably doesn't want me to know about. You know, that kind of thing." Techno looked over the refreshments. Except for the deviled eggs and the Infinite Fountain of Chocolate, nearly everything else had been eaten. Where did Tubbo take his plate?

"Why would I tell you?" The man didn't sound indignant, only curious.

"Tell me you're just lovin' Schlatt's Reign of Terror, Mr...?" He flicked a finger through the chocolate fountain and stuck it in his mouth.

"Halo. Bad Boy Halo." Pause. "I've seen you before. Battle of the Burning Tower?"

Riiiiiight. Technoblade deigned not to answer, and waited for Bad to keep talking.

After an awkward moment, Bad did. "Uhh, me, Skeppy, and Antfrost aren't from Manberg, though."

"Oh. Oh." Technoblade considered this. "Well, do you still happen to know any secrets? You're not invested, so it's not like tellin' me is gonna to negatively affect you. Probably." Though in the end, everyone's gettin' blown up.

Bad Boy Halo thought. "Um. Hm. Well. Oh!" He leaned close to Technoblade and whispered, "Niki has a crush on Wilbur."

Technoblade blinked. "Eh? EHHHH? No, how is that–no, somethin' else, Mr. Halo. Somethin' else." Better log that away somewhere dark and inaccessible. I feel like I need to wash my mouth out or somethin'.

Technoblade couldn't see Mr. Halo's face, but the cloaked shoulders drooped a little.

"Okay. Um. Um. Well, uhh..."

Technoblade turned his attention to the chocolate fountain, when Bad perked up. "Oh! I got one!"

Techno leaned in. "Yes?"

Bad whispered, "Antfrost stress-eats."

Antfrost? Oh, Mr. Frost. Mr. Cat-Ears-Drowning-in-a-Coat. Our slave. "You mean that cat thing? The one that hangs out with you and doesn't live here?"

Indignant: "Ant just likes cats, leave him alone." He sniffed. "And I know you forced him to work for you."

Technoblade thought about his fireworks launcher, but remembered he wasn't blowing anything up yet. "Assumin'–just assumin' that that you two actually even lived in Manberg–it still wouldn't be useful information. At all."

There went the shoulders again.

Why does this punk care?

"Okay..."

Technoblade rolled his eyes. "If you think of somethin' else, let me know."

Bad Boy Halo walked away, leaving Technoblade alone with the food. He hesitated, then plucked an egg between his thumb and middle finger. He hesitated again, then ran it under the lowest tier of the fountain.

"EVERYONE GATHER AT THE MANBERG PODIUM!" blasted over the community green right as Technoblade put half the egg in his mouth. He gagged and spit the mess into the grass by the table. Coughing and scraping his tongue along his teeth, he looked around for the source of the announcement. On the podium stood Vice President Quackity, wielding quite possibly the largest megaphone Techno had ever seen. "EVERYONE GATHER AT THE MANBERG PODIUM OR YOU WILL BE–"

The warning cut short as Quackity lowered the megaphone and withdrew to speak to Schlatt. No one ever learned what they would be if they didn't obey Quackity, but as someone once said (it might have been Sun Tzu, Techno didn't know at this point): "Never question a man with an oversized megaphone." The crowd obliged the vice president and took their places in the decorated chairs in front of the podium. Techno sat in the first row. As Providence would have it, Fundy filled the seat on his left, dabbing at one of his black eyes with an ice pack. Though the festival would be ending soon, Techno felt pretty satisfied with the day's events. Between an attempt on his life, bad dancing, squishing Fundy, and most of all, the party food, Technoblade felt that the only thing that could take the day over the top would be blowing it all up. He sat back and waited. Quackity, Schlatt, and Tubbo (without his plate of food, Techno noted) entered the podium, but they seemed to be having some difficulties with the sound equipment.

Better give these folks a show.

Technoblade aimed the fireworks launcher at the sky. "Check out these cool fireworks!"

Everyone applauded, and even Fundy gaped up at them whilst covering an ear with his free hand.

"HELLO everybody," said President J. Schlatt into the microphone, nearly shattering every window in Manberg. He waited for the feedback to die down, then continued, "Welcome to the Manberg Festival!" His voice boomed, contrasting with his feeble appearance.

This is how he got here so easily.

Quackity burst into loud clapping, all while giving the audience a death glare. They joined in a couple seconds late.

"Whoo," said Technoblade without feeling.

Schlatt continued. "I've invited all the citizens of Manberg–"

Why am I here.

"–and some very close friends of mine to enjoy the festivities that this nation–something–I don't know..."

"Yeah," agreed Quackity. "Thing."

"Basically, I just want to throw a party." Schlatt looked ridiculously pleased with himself. "A party so we could all partake of the fruits of this beautiful country." Suddenly he glared. "Ah, crap." He turned on Tubbo. "Tubbo did you–did you plant the lettuce? I could have sworn we were gonna grow some lettuce."

Tubbo scrambled. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we got some lettuce."

Schlatt scrutinized him. "Did you now? You know I specifically entrusted this critical task to you, Tubbo."

"Oh, Schlatt, you can count on me. I planted so much lettuce. L-look, we have the farm fields all the way over there." Tubbo made a motion past the left end of the podium.

Schlatt looked, then nodded, quite congenial now. "Oh yeah, I see. I knew you'd come through, Tubbo. You scared me for a minute there." Out came the million-dollar smile and the commandeering voice once more as he shouted into the microphone: "Can I get a 'democracy' on three? One, two, THREE!"

"DEMOCRACY!" the audience yelled.

"Anarchy!" offered Technoblade.

Schlatt raised a hand, and the cheering died down. "When Tubbo asked to give a speech about how great this country is and how awesome I am–well, who am I to say no to that, right? So, without any further ado, I think I'll put big man Tubbo, my right-hand man, my protégé–" that Quackity guy seems to be taking this well..."–up on the mic."

Scattered applause, with a couple shouts of "Tubbo!"

"Whoo, Tubbo," said Technoblade. He glanced at Quackity. Passed-over right-hand man? Nah, he looked more like Schlatt's pet bird than anything else.

Tubbo walked up to the microphone as Schlatt stepped aside. He looked even smaller than normal, next to Schlatt and the microphone stand–adjusted for Schlatt's height–looming over him. Tubbo reached up and pulled the stand down to his level. Schlatt's smile looked disgustingly predatory to Technoblade. "Tell everyone how awesome I am," Schlatt urged in a loud whisper.

Fundy yelled, "Talk about cabbages!"

Gotta show my support. "Whoo, state secrets," Techno cheered.

Schlatt darkened in an instant. "No, no state secrets. Just–how awesome I am."

"I won't," said Tubbo, and faced the audience.

This was it.

Let the festival begin.


I hope you all enjoy the festival! :)

God bless,

Unicadia and VAERYS