Tell Me a Dream Book I: Of a Deathless Land (Part 3)

by Unicadia

Banished from their country, Tommy does not think matters can get much worse for him and Wilbur. But slavery, creepy songs, bad dancing, suspicious documents, a big party, and a whole lot of lettuce still await the Pogtopians before the rightful ruler of the country takes his place - or not. T for substance abuse, violence, & suicidal themes. (DSMP; co-written by my sister, VAERYS)

9. In Which You Should Never Forget Techno

"What day is it, Tommy?"

"It's November the 16th, Wilbur," Tommy said hollowly. "It's the day we go to war."

Upon the highest overpass in Pogtopia, above dozens of ancient mineshaft pathways, rickety bridges, and cobwebs of rope, stood Tommy Innit – once the vice president of a land known as L'Manberg, now a fugitive ready to reclaim what he'd lost. Far below, the four other Pogtopians – the ones freely admitted into these subterranean headquarters – hovered around the fire pit in the main cavern, finishing an early supper and talking, their words indistinct. Beside Tommy loafed Wilbur Soot, cigarette in hand, chortling merrily to himself as he daydreamed about pressing buttons and obliterating countries.

But it won't get obliterated. Tonight we reclaim L'Manberg. We do not destroy it. Why couldn't Wilbur understand?

Tommy stalled as long as he could. "Will?" he finally said, turning to the man in question.

Wilbur reeled around. "What?!" he barked in Tommy's face, smothering him with smoke. "What do you want, child?" Then his voice softened, a mocking undertone scraping the surface. "Have you reminded everyone today that you're a child?"

Tommy squared his shoulders, ready to blow his top and give Wilbur a piece of his very adult mind, except he felt inordinately tired. "I'm not a child," he whispered hotly. "I'm almost a man." He sniffed. "I-I-I've even been bathing regularly lately! 'Aven't you noticed?"

Wilbur's mouth spread into a cheshire grin. "You're not a man."

"But if I keep saying that I am, then I will be at some point." Tommy bounced up and down on his toes. Wilbur loomed over him, making him feel offensively meager. "It's like bees spit out 'oney. It's the same thing! Common knowledge!"

Common knowledge and bees aside, Wilbur laughed. "You're in denial. You're insecure…" He drew out the last word with a melodious flair.

Wilbur 'ad once called me a man, a long time ago...

"Don't you dare say that, Will. Not on the night we reclaim L'Manberg."

"No, you're right, Tommy." The smile dissolved, and Wilbur placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder, making a point of crouching down to his level. "There's no reason to be worried," he whispered. "You shouldn't be afraid. And you know why? Tommy, at the end of the fight, when the sun comes up, I would say we've always got each other, but we don't." His fingers squeezed Tommy's shoulder, giving him a cordial shake. " 'Cause if it goes wrong, you're probably going to hate me."

Tommy frowned at him, feeling angry, disturbed, but most of all, sad.

Wilbur failed to notice. That, or he didn't care. Tommy tore away and trudged the rest of the way across the overpass, down the path into the main cavern. Anywhere but near the deranged shell of the president he used to love.

You let Tubbo get blown up, Will. I think I already… No. That wasn't 'im, this isn't 'im. I'll get 'im back. That's right. Come morning when we win back L'Manberg, Wilbur will remember 'ow much 'e loves 'is country.

"Tubbo, why does Tommy keep speaking to a crazy person?" Quackity's shrill prattling echoed up the chasm walls, making the hanging lanterns tremor as Tommy came down, out of sight of the others.

" 'Cause Tommy can speak crazy," said Technoblade. Tommy's feet dragged; the ground seemed to pull at the soles of his shoes. He didn't want to be here anymore.

Nihachu whispered, "I feel bad for him – for Tommy – considering everything he has to carry. He puts up a brave front, but in the end, he's just a child." Gentle humiliation.

"And a traitor," came Quackity again. Nihachu drew a quick breath, as if the duck-boy had said something forbidden, which he had.

Then a fourth voice squeaked – soft and bright, but fainter than usual: "Why is Tommy the traitor?" inquired Tubbo.

"No, think about it," said the contemptible duck-boy. "The kid's got this obsession with music discs. Word has it that Dream has one of those. He could have –"

"Oh! He could have made a deal with Dream for Mellohi!" Why did Tubbo sound so excited? He hadn't sounded that excited since before the festival. "Big Q, you're a genius!" In the midst of Quackity's slander, Technoblade's bluntness, and Nihachu's mortification, Tubbo's contributions hurt the most.

"Then you think –" Nihachu began, when Tommy entered the circle of light, forcing the entire conversation into a jarred halt. Tommy could taste the uncomfortable hush that followed – shamefully bitter, too tense to chew at this forbidding hour.

Tommy looked at each of them. Firelight glowed on their cheeks, tossed their shadows behind them. Not one met his gaze. All of Quackity's attentiveness was absorbed by his bowl of supper; he hunched over it as if he expected someone to steal it at any second. A noticeable space separated Quackity from the others. There was Technoblade, jabbing the fire pit with a long stick, pausing now and then to sip on his routine potion. His hair was untethered except for one or two threadlike braids hidden amongst the rest of his mane. Tommy gawked at him, wondering for a rare moment why this stranger from far away was helping them. To bring down the government, to save the oppressed. I already knew that. Tommy Innit does not forget things. L'Dog curled beside the legend, eyes bright, oblivious to the mood. To one side of Technoblade sat Nihachu, buried in a blanket, her white hands peeking through the folds to hold her supper. She rarely smiled these days. Manberg's cruelty, living in the wilderness, Wilbur's condition – these were the things eating at every one of their hearts. And there was Tubbo close beside her, still wrapped tight in bandages. Tommy glared at the boy, his best friend who fancied him a traitor, but Tubbo would not return his gaze. No, those round eyes, one of the lids permanently drooped, locked upon the wallowing fire pit, leaving it only to flick a nervous glance at Technoblade.

Tommy drew a short breath, let it out. "Listen, everyone!" His voice rang revoltingly loud after the extended silence. "The war's today, but it's up to us to strike first, that's wot Dream said. If this goes right, we don't 'ave to blow up anything today, all right?" He glanced above him, but couldn't make out if Wilbur was still on the overpass. "Dream isn't fighting with passion. Dream's fighting because 'e can fight and show 'is might. 'E can scare us all 'e wants with talk of traitors, but as long as we're together and fighting for L'Manberg, I believe we will be victorious. Tubbo!" he shouted at the bee boi. "Let's go over the plan for tonight again, shall we?"

Wilbur's laughs reverberated from somewhere in the cavern network above them. Tubbo squished closer to Nihachu; she held onto his little hand.

A stick clattered to the ground. Technoblade stood up, his shadow growing into a giant behind him on the rugged walls. L'Dog stared up at him, as much in awe as the others. "I'm steppin' in," the legend said. "We've been over the plan enough. Lemme tell you what we're gonna do now. It's a shame we can't kill because not only is that goin' to be really hard, but it's also hardly practical, plus the voices like blood – but I digress. The single most critical element to winnin' a war is our supply line."

Tubbo perked up like he used to, but lacked the peppiness of his old self. "What is our supply line?" he questioned. "We've gathered what we can. I considered asking that fellow Sam for help, but as it turns out, he'll be fighting alongside Dream and the Manbergians."

Technoblade was already strolling up the cavern. "I've been preparin' for the past month, and we lack nothin'. Everyone just follow me." They scrambled up after him. L'Dog trotted beside Technoblade. The legend turned at the path leading up to his own cave. "I'm takin' you all to my secret base."

"You mean your bedroom?" Tommy sneered as they entered. The framed Sun Tzu quotes on the wall glared down at him.

"No, my secret base. That's my stuff, don't take that," said Techno when Quackity opened the lid to one of the chests lining the wall. The duck-boy started, dropping the lid on his fingertips.

Technoblade guided their focus from the squalling duck-boy to a trapdoor in a corner of the cave, constructed of planks strapped in iron. This opened into a suspicious shaft. One by one, the Pogtopians climbed the ladder, down into the deepest parts of the mountains – lightless places not seen in centuries. L'Dog remained above, whimpering.

Tommy stubbed his heel on the floor, just when he thought there wasn't any. Then he blundered off the ladder right into Tubbo. "Oh – sorry, Toob, I –" The gentle, harmonic glow of lanterns beckoned Tommy's attention.

"Now this," said Technoblade, kindling the last lamp at the far end of a smooth-hewn hallway, "this is the vault!"

At first Tommy didn't know what he was supposed to look at. Until he noticed the walls. Rows of swords, knives, bows and ammunition, complete with scabbards, straps, and other pog methods of weapon transportation. Ender pearls. Kite shields. There were potions, too – home-brewed specialties of Technoblade. And along the farthest wall, five full suits of genuine netherite armor. A board painted with the words Sic Semper Tyrannis hung above the battle cornucopia. Tommy and the four others could do nothing but gape.

Technoblade's voice rang over their awe. "I am ready for revolution, boys! Take what you need. The government's comin' down! Manberg will soon be gone in spite of the no-killin' policy!"

Not gone. It will be saved.

Tommy sprung for the armor. He just about knocked over the entire frame displaying the suit, snatching each piece and altering the straps to his size. Except the helmet felt a little big and he couldn't fix it. "You made these, Techno?" he asked.

"Yeah. Why do you think we were workin' so hard on gatherin' resources? Why do you think we got a slave? And don't worry about leavin' stuff for me; I've got my own of everythin'. We do need to save some for Wilbur, though."

"No, Wilbur 'as no need for armor. 'E won't even take a shield."

Technoblade faced Tommy. "Oh, is he that good or that stupid?"

"Well, 'e's…" There was no safe answer to that.

"It's fine," said Techno. He turned away again, looking almost doleful. "Just smelted all that netherite for nothin'..."

Tubbo tromped up to Tommy and started to take a helmet, but Tommy snatched it from his hands. "Not you," said Tommy. "You're not bet'er yet."

Tubbo grabbed it back, surprising Tommy with his vigor. "Tommy, please let me come," he said solemnly, not so much begging as stating a fact. "Please don't leave me behind."

"But you can't – I can't let you fight!"

"At least let me be there. Look, Niki's coming along, I can too. I promise I won't be a burden."

"But –" Tommy ran out of words. What could he say? Tubbo was his sidekick. Tommy nodded. "All right, Tubbs, but don't – just don't get blown up."

Tubbo smiled that new annoying smile of his, flinching a little. He started gathering up an armful of potions, but Technoblade also stopped him. "Ah, no, no, no. You gotta give your body a break, kiddo. You might…implode or somethin'."

Tubbo looked disappointed.

They finished donning their equipment – except for Quackity who was trying to sever the backplate from his chestplate with a spoon. Technoblade took over and removed the front, rigging the straps so Quackity could still wear what remained. Tommy asked Nihachu if she planned on fighting, but she said no, because no one else volunteered as field nurse. "And someone needs to keep an eye on Wilbur," Nihachu added. Just in case, she donned a set of netherite and kept a light sword and a shield on her person.

Technoblade chuckled. "There will be war again on this land. Too bad we don't have End-Gamers."

"Who?" asked Quackity.

"We don't need End-Gamers," said Tommy gleefully. "We 'ave the Blade!"

As they exited the vault, beautifully armed, Tommy felt a renewed hope rise within him. "We've got the Blade! We just might win this thing!" No amount of traitors can stop us.

After a brief rundown of their plan, and Nihachu had collected her bag full of medical necessities, the five of them minus Techno marched to the surface, bumping into Wilbur along the path. "Is it time?" he asked. "Are we blowing it up?"

"Yes and no," said Tommy. "You know the conditions. But we're off to Manberg now. We've got enough gear to attack them 'ead on, but just in case, we've got Techno going through the tunnels so 'e can surprise 'em when they're not looking. That's not mentioning Fundy, who's already on the inside."

"Brilliant! Let's go!" Wilbur rejoiced. He flung the stub of his cigarette into the chasm and flew ahead of the others on invisible wings. How Tommy wished he could lock up Wilbur here in Pogtopia, away from Manberg and all the destruction he wished to wreak, but what could restrain that man? Once he got that fire in his eyes, it would burn through anything. Anything except his own promise.

They filed out of Pogtopia and up the hill taking them above the cliffs. "It's sunset," Wilbur said quietly, and for the first time in too long, he was right. Under a throbbing orange sky, the five rebels crossed the wilderness. The gutted woodlands provided no shelter from the biting, late autumn gales.

After ten minutes of hiking, Tubbo made a peep: "Did you hear something, Tommy?" Then out of the thickets came a spinning knife. It whizzed past Tommy's cheek, heading straight for Tubbo, but fortunately hit the bee boi's shield before his face.

"Wot –" Tommy started, except Bad Boy Halo came plummeting out from the same thicket, proceeding to romp around the stunned Pogtopians without so much as acknowledging their presence. Behind him hurtled Eret, crashing through the dead undergrowth, greatsword raised high. " 'Old together!" Tommy shrieked to his troops, though the war had not even begun. Last of all came Skeppy, his scimitar dancing with deft swishes as he pursued Eret. The three scampered and scrimmaged until they had created a clearing in the forest that hadn't been there before.

Then Eret stopped. He stooped over his knees, panting painfully. The other two backed away, but didn't run off. Bad leaned against a tree, toying with a knife in one hand. "Hey everyone! How are you doing?" His voice dropped. "Are you going to a party? Why didn't you invite us?"

"It's not a party this time," murmured Nihachu, shield up.

"No parties," said Tommy. He glanced distrustfully from Bad to Skeppy, but most of all at Eret. "It's war."

Bad's head tilted from side to side, making the strings of jewels dangling out of his hood rattle. "Both are just as fun and chaotic."

Eret finally straightened, breath still heaving. "I found these rogues haunting the premises, so I took it upon myself to ensure they didn't find anything they're not supposed to."

"Thank you. No one asked," Wilbur spat. "You can go away now. And die. Like I said before."

"Not before L'Manberg is restored." Eret knelt before the line of Pogtopians and laid his sword across the ground. "It would be my honor to fight by your side and take back what I so foolishly bargained away. I may not be the most skilled fighter, but if needed, I possess a secret weapon at my disposal."

Tommy glared at the sunset. "That sounds way too familiar. 'Ey, everyone, I wonder who the traitor is."

"I already told you no," said Wilbur through his teeth, venom in his eyes.

"No, I got you, Eret." And Nihachu glided to the kneeling man's side. Wilbur twitched an eyebrow. "You can trust him. And we can use any help at this point."

Tommy didn't look at her. "We literally 'ave the Blade."

"Eret won't betray us!"

"Eret's the most likely to!" Tommy snapped, then drew away. He glanced at Wilbur, but his old leader now looked askance as if he could no longer bother himself with life forms as low as Eret. Tommy glanced at Nihachu, the determined set in her jaw, and knew that if it wasn't for her, Wilbur probably would have already strangled Eret. "You know wot? Fine," Tommy scoffed, inputting a couple flippant hand motions. "Let 'im join. But if anything 'appens, if you start pulling us away to a dark room with a button, I want you to remember something: we've got the Blade."

Eret rose to his feet; Nihachu looked smaller and smaller by the second. "Understood," he said. "Now please, I must escort these two away from here."

"Wait, you're letting him join you?" Bad whined. "The more the merrier. C'mon, we're good at what we do. Let us come, and I promise we won't stab you."

Tommy shoved him away. "No! We can't keep doing this! Leave us alone!"

"Fine." Bad cocked his head at Skeppy. "Let's go ask the nice Manberg people if we can join them."

"Yeah, we don't care Schlatt said no more parties," Skeppy giggled.

"Wait – you can come with us," Tubbo faltered. Tommy almost slapped him. Bad did a little dance.

After they drilled over the plan for the last time, and after Nihachu and Tubbo left to fetch Eret decent equipment from Pogtopia (Bad and Skeppy didn't get any), they continued trekking forward. By the time they made it to the Manberg border, designated by Eret's eastern tower, night had claimed the world. Barely a light shimmered besides the watery contours of a half moon. With luck, their enemies' eyes had tired from keeping watch all day, and wouldn't catch the Pogtopians until it was too late.

Those dunder'eads should've thought twice before they did away with the walls.

They waited at the tree line, scanning for signs of life, but only leftover party lanterns and weathered bunting moved in the shrouded town. Bad scaled one of the half-bare trees to get a better view. Quackity fell behind the others, visibly shivering at the sight of the nation he had once thought was his.

"This is where we take it all back," Wilbur said from where he stood at the rear of the group, sounding relatively normal. "Either that, or we get nothing."

Tommy took the deepest breath his lungs could summon. "Tubbo," he said, and tried one last time, "take care of yourself. Stay back with Niki, don't –"

"I'm fighting with you, Tommy."

As much as Tommy feared for Tubbo's safety, he couldn't deny the spark of elation inside him – the knowing that his best friend would be right next to him through their darkest hour. Tommy looked him in the eye, and nodded.

Then Tommy's skin crawled, and he knew someone was watching them from above. He squinted up at the tower, but couldn't make anything out.

"You're late."

Tommy's head snapped down. In the inky darkness beyond the tower, Dream's white mask materialized. It looked suspended mid-air until Tommy's eyes adjusted and he made out the rest of Dream's body, concealed in netherite, a battle axe in one hand, a black shield marked with a crimson 'X' – like the cursed flag of the nation – in the other.

"You – I'm gonna –!" Tommy burst from the trees, his troops at his heels. No sooner were they in the open, than a flurry of bullets and arrows pelted down on them from unseen marksmen on the tower. That would have been the end of Tommy, and many of the others, had they been wearing anything less than netherite. They cowered under the onslaught, raising their kite shields in case a clever projectile found its way between the plates of their armor. Eret used his own shield to shelter Wilbur, who had no protection of any kind. Wilbur did not even look at the taller man.

"Back to the trees!" screamed Tommy. They began moving, but then Dream swept in front of them, cutting off their retreat with his swinging axe. They maneuvered past him, or at least tried to. Dream ran a circle around them, laughing, watching them hide behind their shields when he got too close, then raise them over their heads again when he backed off. He kept it up, kept the soldiers dancing like helpless marionettes.

"We can't keep doing this!" Tubbo cried from next to Tommy. "We need help and Technoblade's taking too long!"

Tommy thought quick. We can't just keep retreating, or we'll lose. We 'ave to take the offensive. "Tubbo, stick together!" He shouted to the others, "Everyone, everyone, everyone! To the tower! We can get out of their line of fire an' meet them where they're at!"

The only problem was Dream, still dashing around them and teasing them with the bit of his axe. Tommy took up the challenge, unsheathing Nightmare from his side. So he offered his troops enough time to flee to the tower door. But of course it was locked. They pounded, clawed at the wood. The marksmen on the tower couldn't land a shot on them so close to the wall, but there were more swords gleaming in the darkness surrounding the rebels, eager to slice flesh. Tommy knew he couldn't fend off Dream forever, especially not if the masked man had reinforcements.

Where are you, Techno?

Ultimately, Eret, utilizing his shield and body as a battering ram, smashed through the door. The wood fractured from its topmost hinge, left to dangle broken and useless from the other two. The rebels flooded inside, away from Dream and all his nightmares hiding in the shadows.

"Everyone, go, go, go up the ladder to the next level!" Tommy called. "I'll be –" Then Dream knocked him hard in the gut and no one ever learned what Tommy would be.

"You want Manberg?" asked Dream in a mocking tone. He took advantage of Tommy's disrupted state and wrenched the shield off his arm with his battle axe's heel. "You want it that bad?"

"No," Tommy spluttered. His vision tangled; he slammed his eyes shut. "I don't want Manberg. Give me L'Manberg!"

"And what do I get? Your other disc? We both know I have the better one!" Dream started laughing.

Tommy straightened too fast and stumbled back. There were no more falling missiles, just this despicable man before him. Tommy sniffed. He drew himself to his full height, threw a fast glance at the tower entrance. "Maybe I don't 'ave both my discs, but I've got everything I need to defeat you tonight."

"Oh, I'm so scared." Dream lifted his axe and shield on either side of him – a disparaging guise of vulnerability – before rushing in to strike.

Tommy bolted for the tower like a crossbow shot, barely missing Dream's swings. He made it inside the shadowy room, grabbed the broken door, and barricaded it in front of the entryway, in meager hope that this slab of splintered wood would be enough to counter Dream. He was met by no immediate opposition. I can't even hear Dream on the other side. Is 'e still out there? Tommy scoured for a crack to peer through. Then a hand grabbed him from behind and yanked his shoulders. Tommy wrenched from the grasp. He whipped around, no longer holding the door, but all he saw was a streak of netherite purple vanishing into the blackness of the supposedly empty room.

"Who's there?" Tommy yelled, to no reply. The single torch flickering on the opposite wall failed in its sole purpose of illuminating the chamber. "Is that you, Skeppy?" Skeppy wasn't wearing netherite. Yet who could it be but one of his allies? Unless it was one of the marksmen. Or someone else who had slipped in after the rebels.

Tommy started to turn back toward the barricade, when another figure, long and lithe, cracked down on Tommy's helmet with a blow from its sheathed sword. Tommy fell, hit his head between the floor and the barricade. Two faces leered at him, highlighted by the single overworked torch. Sapnap and Fundy.

"F-Fundy…?" Tommy uttered, wondering what would happen next. His allies had already ascended the tower. The only thing that could possibly make this worse would be if Dream broke down the door and came upon him. But he didn't.

Sapnap snickered. He ripped off Tommy's helmet, grabbed a handful of the flaxen hair, and twisted Tommy upright, pinning him against the wall. Fundy tossed Nightmare aside, out of Tommy's reach. Tommy swiped at his attackers with his hands, but he couldn't touch either of them besides a couple useless wallops on Sapnap's arm. "Fundy, you traitor!" he shrieked, eyes ablaze.

A harsh sigh escaped Fundy and he growled, "It's actually liar."

Sapnap was obviously enjoying the moment. "You know, Fundy, we make a pretty good team. Better than Dream," he added through tightened teeth.

"Nah." Fundy strolled in a circle, removing the shield from his back and inspecting the red-and-black paint. "Not as long as you're hiding under that helmet."

Sapnap paused, frowned. "Why? What's wrong with my helmet?"

"Makes you look like a scaredy-cat afraid that you're gonna get hit on the head. That, or it's just a bad hair day for you."

"That's what you think, huh? Well, guess what?" Incredulous, Sapnap unstrapped his helmet with his free hand and threw it aside, flaunting his ponytail. The helmet clattered noisily across the floor.

"You idiot," Fundy chuckled, then spun the shield around, the edge colliding with Sapnap's head. No sooner did he fall, than Fundy gave him a violent kick in the jaw. Sapnap released a startled cry which echoed up the walls of the tower, along with the sounds of Fundy beating him. Tommy, now free, watched the scene in shock; he could see the fox-boy's fury reinforcing each blow.

Then the broken door exploded, hurling Tommy onto his face. He scrambled out of the debris before whoever entering the room could trample him. At first, Tommy assumed it was Dream – but no, Sam came barging into the tower to Sapnap's rescue. Fundy delivered the final blow, hauling Sapnap up by his ponytail and socking him in the nose before fleeing from the incoming creeper man. But there was no back door in this strange, circular room. Before Fundy could sprint up the ladder, Sam whirled his spear and slammed Fundy square in the spine with the side of the shaft. The force of the blow jarred the fox-boy to his knees; tears squeezed from his eyes. Sam didn't take it further. Instead, he hurried to Sapnap's twitching form, whisked him into his arms, and carried him out into the night.

Silence fell inside and outside the tower. Tommy and Fundy slowly gathered themselves to their feet. Both were shaken, stinging in various parts of their bodies, but overall intact. "I'm glad you're not the traitor, Fundy," Tommy mumbled.

Fundy produced the most infallibly fallible smile. "Really? After that, I'm the most traitorous of all."

Tommy shrugged. "Let's join the others. They should 'ave taken out the shooters by now. Oh, I dunno if you know, but Eret's fighting with us. Badlands too."

Fundy's ears stiffened at a quizzical angle. "Badlands, meaning Antfrost too? He's recovered that fast? I thought only Pogtopia had potions."

"Well, no, it's just Bad and Skeppy. But wot do you mean 'recovered?' Did something 'appen to the cat-man?"

"Nevermind. Let's go."

Tommy collected Nightmare. He didn't bother with his helmet; it was too big for him anyway and Sapnap's wasn't much better. Fundy left his Manberg shield.

The two of them ascended the ladder, first Tommy, then Fundy. They climbed onto the first tier of the tower, where they were surprised to find a couple of their companions loitering in the barren inner room. Quackity crouched close to the rounded wall, his shaky fingers doing something with his left wing – maybe stroking his feathers? Tommy gagged. Nihachu sat further away, inspecting a roll of gauze laid across her lap. At first Tommy thought it was just those two, when he spotted Wilbur through one of the archways leading onto the wall walk, his back turned, watching the night from the parapet.

"The Camarvan's still there. Guess Schlatt forgot what he said about taking it down," Wilbur sniggered.

"Wot are you all doing 'ere?" Tommy inquired, not giving Fundy a hand in wriggling up from the trapdoor. "Why aren't you all up on the next level with the others? I'n't that where the shooters are?"

"He's really strong," Quackity murmured, peeking over his wing. He pointed a slimy hand upward.

"Who?"

Then a sound like a fainting pigeon echoed above them, followed by a shuffle and Eret yelling: "Go! Don't let him escape!" A moment later, an unarmed Karl appeared from above, skidding down the ladder to their floor. Bad plunged after him, unleashing a bombardment of throwing knives.

Tommy stood in the middle of the floor and watched the two scurry around, inadvertently spook the duck-boy away, but not Nihachu. It ended when Karl stopped running and cringed against the tower wall, eyes shut tight as Bad closed in on him. "No!" Karl shrieked. "What about the parties? The gluten-free cake?!"

Bad raised a knife, but made no move to bring it down. "Don't stop now," he goaded. "Keep running!"

Karl nodded vigorously. Bad "chased" him one more lap around the room before they both pelted for the ladder down and were seen no more.

That's when it clicked in Tommy's brain. "Wait, you didn't go up to the next level because Karl is strong?! Who would 'ave known?"

"No," said Nihachu placidly. "Not Karl. The second marksman – Punz."

Another cry fell from the level above them. This time Tubbo took a nosedive down the ladder. Tommy swooped to his aid with outstretched arms. He successfully broke Tubbo's fall, acting as a crash pad and utterly collapsing beneath the bee boi. Tommy spat out the corner of his friend's shield and distinguished his own arms and legs from Tubbo's, then stood and pulled the bee boi up beside him. "All right, I'm going up!" Tommy took a quick swig of a strength potion, glaring with resolution. The familiar horrible taste coated the inside of his mouth, and he felt the strain under his skin as the concoction tensed every muscle.

He sprang up the ladder onto the second level, greeted at once with Eret and Skeppy careening at his face for the second time that day. They swerved around him, making for the trapdoor. There they coincidentally met with Tubbo and Fundy trying to crown the tower, and all four of them took a messy dive down the ladder.

"Why are you guys –?" Tommy started, unsure how to react to the blunder. He noticed a shield marked with a Manberg 'X' lying beside a busted longbow on the floor, both of which he presumed were Karl's. Tommy stepped forward, toward the archway leading onto the wall walk wrapping around the tower, and saw the second marksman.

Punz stood passively, sparsely armored in netherite, his hood obscuring his face, the white cloak swirling on either side of him. One hand carried his crystal longsword, the moonlight running up and down the translucent edges. He possessed no shield, and his AR-15 rifle hung from his back. Tommy clung to Nightmare's hilt. His gaze traced the tattoos weeping down the mercenary's cheeks. Punz remained stone-still, waiting for Tommy to take action.

Tommy mustered all his breath, felt the strength potion surge within his veins, and highballed toward the mercenary. Just as he closed in, Punz darted forward, and Tommy could only slash at the hem of Punz's white cloak, before that too disappeared and Nightmare buried itself into the wall of the tower. Tommy bumbled to his knees, anchoring himself on the sword's hilt before his face met the floor. He tugged on Nightmare. His strength potion had worked against itself: his sword had sunk too deep into the stone, and now it wouldn't budge. Behind him, Punz took out his AR-15 and locked it on Tommy's head.

But then, a gust of wind whistled high overhead, and the moonlight blinked out for one moment as the legendary Technoblade, in netherite and wielding Punz's own shooting trident catapulted above them. Tommy caught a glimpse of him, riding the skies and laughing on all those below him, pink hair flowing around him like a second cape. A trail of water droplets and shreds of ice trailed him until he alighted upon the second tier of the eastern tower – right in front of Punz.

"Sorry that took so long," Techno apologized, straightening his crown. "I almost got here, but then I realized I had forgotten quite possibly the most important things." He grinned, and a rush of relief surged over Tommy.

Punz didn't change expression, but looked different somehow. He put away his gun before Techno could even think about slicing the barrel off. Then he whipped out his crystal sword and made the first move this time. Technoblade fended him off with the trident until he got bored and tossed it aside, unleashing his new sword, Orphan Obliterator. They locked swords once, twice. For every one of Technoblade's ruthless attacks, Punz countered. Meanwhile, Tommy worked on prying his sword out of the wall with Techno's trident.

"This guy is really annoyin'," muttered Technoblade as the fight drew on.

Then Punz's sword tip grazed the legend's face, leaving a line of red above his left eye. Technoblade jumped back, blinking blood out of his eyelashes. "Okay, now I'm mad," he seethed, still smirking.

Technoblade seized a weakness potion from his belt and splashed it at Punz's face before he could react. The mercenary's body lurched forward; his hands clawed at his face, trying to shake off the evil liquid. Techno used this opportunity to slam Punz backwards, closer to the battlements. Punz couldn't regain his balance before Technoblade shoved him against the parapet, sword to his throat. For the first time, Tommy heard Punz make something like a cry of pain. Feet barely touching the floor, Punz dangled half-off the tower, held only by Technoblade's hand. His longsword dropped over the edge. The mercenary's golden medallion slid down his neck and caught on his jaw; the white hood dropped from his head, leaving his blond hair to dance in the night's cutting wind.

"Finally," Technoblade sighed. He adjusted his position so he inclined with one elbow over Punz's chest. "You put up quite the fight. Where did you train?"

Punz's only reply was a string of strangled gasps. His hands grasped for the wall, then his cloak.

Tommy turned away from them to Nightmare, still buried in the wall. There he fixated all his attention, might, and the last traces of his strength potion. At last, the tower freed the sword from its clutch, the force sending Tommy flopping onto his back.

Now that Punz was detained, the rebels emerged from below, first Wilbur, then Tubbo and Fundy. Bad emerged next; Karl nowhere to be seen. Tommy almost yelled at them all for deserting him with the mercenary, but decided he was too tired.

An arrow whizzed up from below and nearly struck Wilbur. "Woah!" he exclaimed. He tripped aside and laughed. "They're shooting us from the ground. That one almost got me!"

"Will, get down! You're not wearing any armor," Tommy hissed, crouched behind his favorite battlement. He wiped Nightmare down with the border of Technoblade's cloak when he wasn't looking. "You too, Techno. Get away from the edge or they'll hit you!"

Technoblade, still holding Punz at his mercy, peeked over the side, uninterested. "Who? Dream? That Karl guy? If they want to shoot their hitman, they're more than welcome to." He pushed Punz a little further over the edge.

Then Punz opened his hand. The swirling green of an ender pearl caught a glint of moonlight as he dropped it over the parapet. "Oh," said Technoblade, disappointed at the mercenary's intuition. He shrugged. "Ordinarily, this would be the part where I kill you, but seeing how I'm under a little obligation to somehow keep this war bloodless, at least let me give you a goodbye present." Before the ender pearl shattered on the ground and Punz disappeared, Techno whipped his sword up and around, and slid it beneath Punz's sword arm, where the brassard didn't cover him. To Tommy's eyes, the blade barely touched Punz, except the mercenary's entire right arm spasmed, and his face contorted in agony. Moments later, the ender pearl broke and Punz vanished from below Technoblade, a speckle of blood all to remain. Tommy dared to peek over the parapet at the ground. Punz reappeared, bowed on the grass below the tower, sagging upon his left arm, white cloak billowing behind him.

Technoblade, watching as well, let out a whistle. "He won't be usin' that arm for a bit." After downing a potion from his belt, the legend reached for his trident and strapped it to his back. Then he changed weapons again, this time raising his fireworks launcher. Tubbo immediately recoiled, but Techno didn't seem to notice. He fired a small rocket through a battlement; far below, Karl shrieked, dropped his second longbow, and fled for his life.

"We're winning!" cheered Tubbo, taking out his shortbow and making a couple of his own shots through the embrasures – missed of course, which was understandable considering how high up they were. But it must've been even harder for those on the ground, which currently consisted of Dream and Karl, when he dared to return. Not even Dream could fire arrows through the stone battlements to where the Pogtopians crouched. Punz staggered away, most likely to wrap up that arm of his.

Sapnap and Punz are incapacita'ed, Karl is no threat, I know Sam is down there somewhere… Where is Schlatt, though?

"They're falling back," said Wilbur, peering through an embrasure. "You're pushing them back." He suddenly shot up and jumped away, gasping and clutching at his hand. "It's that slime! The green slime from the Camarvan!" He pointed a shaky finger at the wall where something translucent clung between the stones. "What's it doing in the tower!"

"Stop it, Will, you're crackers," Tommy snapped.

"N-No! It's actually here! It's chasing me, Tommy, it's chasing me!"

Tommy ignored the lunatic. He continued to scan the country. There was a figure positioned on the roof of the Off-White House. A figure wearing a pointy purple jacket. Purpled? Where's 'e been? 'E's not with Manberg, is 'e? Tommy stared, puzzled.

"We're here," said Skeppy, he and Eret crowning the tower at last. Nihachu followed, making some last-minute adjustments to a small bandage around Eret's hand. She swept away from him and approached Tommy.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not me, but Techno's got a scratch. Say, Ni'achu, 'ave you got a bow? No? Wot about Big Q? Doesn't 'e 'ave a bow?"

"He said he'd come up shortly."

"Why doesn't –"

The close clanging of metal alerted the rebels. Just around the curve of the wall walk, Bad and Skeppy had Fundy backed against the parapet, blades drawn. "Tommy, I thought you said they were on our side!" Fundy bawled.

"Stop it!" cried Nihachu. "Fundy's one of us!"

"Away from him, traitors!" Eret drew his greatsword, wincing.

"Skeppy, Bad, wot's going on?" Tommy blurted. "Why are you doing this?!"

"We didn't think you'd be winning!" Bad tried to explain.

Fundy's sword locked with Skeppy's scimitar. An arrow whooshed past them, thudding into the battlement.

"And why is us winning a bad thing?" Tommy pointed Nightmare toward the scoundrels. "You're on our side. You're with Pogtopia!"

Bad stopped capering and spread his arms wide, a knife revolving in each hand. "Manberg, Pogtopia, who cares!" Through the shroud of his hood, Tommy could almost see the glee sparkle in Bad's near-invisible eyes. "As long as we fan the flames of war, the Badlands will thrive in the chaos." Wilbur smirked silently from the side, now casually smoking. "It doesn't matter who we're fighting for or against. Whatever keeps the party going longer!"

"And why did you think that was a good idea?" Technoblade slowly turned on them, and that's when Bad Boy Halo and Skeppy realized the extent of their stupidity. Technoblade didn't bother to draw a weapon. The legend downed a potion and barrelled over Bad and Skeppy, threw Fundy out of his way, and left the two fools flattened in his wake. Again, Tommy found himself speechless before the power of Technoblade. We 'ave the Blade. It's impossible for us to lose.

The remaining Pogtopians plus Eret decided to quit the tower since their enemies insisted on retreating. After they descended (dragging Quackity along) they broke the ladders so Skeppy and Bad wouldn't be able to chase after them whenever they unpeeled themselves from the floor.

Now at ground level, the rebels flooded the town. Tommy tasked Nihachu in keeping Wilbur out of trouble (i.e. away from buttons) while the others held the able-bodied Manbergians at bay – strictly Sam and Karl because Dream had mysteriously disappeared and that useless mercenary Purpled offered no sign of taking a side. Tommy found himself wheeling in a scuffle with Sam across the darkened cobblestone plaza while Tubbo locked blades with Karl. Eret came to Tommy's aid, then Fundy, but even the three of them couldn't best the mighty creeper man. Finally, Technoblade threw himself into their midst, effectively forcing Sam to turn tail.

Then Tommy noticed Dream bounding across the rooftops. "It's Dream!"

Technoblade readied an ender pearl. "I'm pretty sure Dream isn't on our side. Get him!" He hurled the pearl at the kitchen rooftop, where he collided with Dream at the very edge, and the two crashed into the grass. Dream scrambled to his feet and bolted for the Camarvan, parrying a few blows from Technoblade. The rebels swarmed after him, chased by Sam, maybe Karl, and Punz (who had reappeared now wielding his longsword in his left hand, his right arm heavily bandaged). Quackity fired upon them from his perch on the stage, though he wasn't the best shot.

Dream, racing to the left of the caravan, lost his footing on the soft bank of one of the ponds. Technoblade aimed a second pearl, flicked it up in the air. It made a tight arc before breaking centimeters from Dream's toes. Technoblade appeared in front of the disoriented masked man, lunged with Orphan Obliterator, and slashed Dream's shield from his arm and into the pond. Dream's battle axe bowled for Techno's crown, but the legend's swordpoint somehow found its way into the chink in the side of Dream's armor, splicing through the straps. The chestplate slid to one side, giving Technoblade the perfect opportunity to kick him in the gut. Dream crashed against the Camarvan's lighted windows, sputtering. He raised his axe against Technoblade's strikes, barely holding them off. But they only increased in speed and power. "Okay, okay!" Dream yelled.

"Okay, what?!" Technoblade yelled back. He didn't stop.

"Yeah, what is it, Dream?!" Tommy sneered at his enemy, blocking his escape when he tried to slip off to one side. "Wot is it? You 'ave something to say?"

Technoblade finally wrenched Dream's weapon out of his grasp, and the masked man now waved his hands in surrender. "Stop! STOP! Everyone be quiet, okay?!"

Technoblade mock-swung at Dream one more time, his sword tip flying dangerously close to Dream's face. "But only if my enemy insists," Techno taunted.

"Wilbur," said Dream, voice loud, but steady. "We need to talk."

"He's run out of moves and suddenly he wants to talk." Technoblade guffawed, so loud, everyone must have heard it – even George NotFound, who was conspicuously absent.

"Hello, Dream," came Wilbur, striding forward and extending an affable hand. "How are you?"

Dream edged away from Technoblade, making no move to shake Wilbur's hand. The words spilled out, awkwardly. "Um, we would like to surrender. And it is because Schlatt is an idiot."

"Mm, how long did it take you to figure that out?" Wilbur finished his cigarette and ground its remains into the turf. "Where is that coward anyway?"

Dream carefully lowered his hands. "I have to show you something. Follow me, Wilbur." And he started walking around to the driver's door of the Camarvan – after Tommy let him pass, of course.

Wilbur watched him go. "Can everyone come?" he called. Dream offered no reply. Wilbur shrugged, signaled to the others, and together, in a semi-orderly fashion, they followed Dream into the Camarvan.

Tommy stomped up the vehicle steps, heedless of whether he tread on Wilbur's heels. " 'Ow I know this i'n't a trap?" he honked, crashing into the main room. The entire caravan audibly groaned under the force of his entrance. Fundy, Quackity, and Tubbo followed close behind him. This was it – the hot dog van where it had all begun. Tommy recalled those many nights he had spent with Tubbo in the cramped back room, pillow-fighting instead of sleeping. He remembered sitting on the bench at the built-in table, wallowing over battle plans to reclaim his dear discs, a bowl of stamppot sizzling in front of him. That was before the wars, before the ballots, before the ludicrous struggles for power. Even so, as Tommy stood here, he felt like he'd never really stepped foot in it until now. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something had changed.

I 'aven't been 'ere in almost two months, he realized.

Then Wilbur spoke. "Schlatt, what are you doing?"

Tommy saw him. The emperor of Manberg sat upon the floor, slumped against the benches. Besides the liquor bottle held in one of his twitching hands, he carried no weapons, wore no armor except for a iron vambrace dangling from one arm. Faint burn scars mottled parts of his skin. The first time Tommy had laid his eyes upon J. Schlatt, he had thought him a renowned war hero of unparalleled brilliance. Now he saw only a man – wasted away by his own hand. Schlatt lifted his head, rubbed at his eyes. "Wait…is this a surprise birthday party?" he mumbled.

"What are you doing in my caravan?" Wilbur spat. He looked Schlatt up and down with disgust. "Are you drinking?"

"Is this your leader, Dream?" Tommy scoffed. "You battled for this man?"

Dream remained near the loo door, on the other side of the ruined president. "No. This is not my leader."

Technoblade, haunting the doorway to the main room and blocking anyone else from entering, sounded almost sad upon viewing the scene. "I was so excited for the revolution, but now I just..."

Wilbur stepped forward. "Schlatt, are you ready to have this end now?" He glanced at Tommy. "You have your sword?"

Tommy nodded, grasping Nightmare tighter.

Wilbur stared so hard at Tommy, he looked angry. "Tommy, I want you to put it between his eyes."

A couple onlookers gasped. "Are you guys killing him?" said a concerned Karl, muffled behind Technoblade's cloak. Beside Tommy, Tubbo trembled.

"Victory or death," said Wilbur, turning to Schlatt again. "Do it, Tommy."

Tommy drew back his sword, but in spite of everything, in spite of almost firing an arrow through Schlatt less than a month earlier, he felt uncertain, and very afraid. He looked at Dream, but the green man didn't make any move to stop him.

Schlatt lowered his head and grinned. He chuckled, making his entire body shudder as he rasped, "You know, if I die, this country goes down with me."

Tommy scowled, trying to keep his hands steady. "No it doesn't, Schlatt."

Schlatt twisted around and pointed a quivering finger at Dream. "It's not the end." His voice sounded strange. It sounded wrong – as if it were stretched to the point of snapping. So unlike the booming pronouncements that had claimed the throne of L'Manberg not long ago. "You'll keep your promise, won't you, Dream Cakes? You'll use it, right, if I die?"

Dream still didn't move. "What promise are you talking about? You have nothing on me, Schlatt."

What are they talking about?

Schlatt coughed a laugh, opening and closing the fingers of his left hand. "Of course you'd say that. They all turn on me, the traitors and liars." A glare at Fundy. "In my time of need, everybody left. Those I brought from the dust, those I kept alive – they ran as soon as they got the chance." His gaze swung away. "I'm talking to you, Vice."

Tommy browsed the witnesses, finding Quackity lurking against the wall to his right. The duck-boy started, a nervous tremor ruffling his feathers. "I-I had to," he stammered, blood rushing up his neck.

Schlatt wobbled to his feet, inadvertently spilling the rest of the alcohol from the bottle he held. He staggered toward Quackity, and the others moved aside. A hideous, decaying grin smeared Schlatt's face. "We were gonna build an empire together, remember?"

Tommy could feel Quackity's trembling, or else that was just his own. "Schlatt!" Quackity cried. "We could have done something good to this country! We could have had everything!" His voice cracked, and had Tommy not been looking at him, he wouldn't have been able to tell if the duck-boy was laughing or crying. The corners of Quackity's mouth turned up in a smile, but sadness stained his eyes. "You had a dream and I followed it, but you brought it downhill."

Schlatt neared, raised the liquor bottle above his head, about to strike the duck-boy. This time, Quackity's hand went up, and he caught the bottle before it hit him. He wrenched it to the floor. It shattered upon impact, bursting into a flower of broken glass laced with foul-smelling whiskey.

"You ruined it," Quackity whispered. "I thought you were something."

Schlatt, staring at the broken bottle, glanced up at Quackity again. His eyes glassed over as if with tears, as he tilted his head to one side, smiling all the way. Tommy could see the veins standing out in his neck. "You never fail to let me down, Quackity."

Quackity didn't react, but regarded Schlatt, the last of the longing in his big black eyes overcome by disenchantment. Then he shook his head, stepped behind Tommy. "Just do it," he said, each word sharp enough to draw blood. "Kill him."

"Kill him!" Fundy echoed.

Tommy's heart pounded.

"Oh, now we're killin'?" said Technoblade.

"There has to be another way!" Karl's cry was too weak against the others.

"Everyone quiet!" Wilbur snapped. "Schlatt, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Schlatt didn't have anything to say for himself; instead, he appeared to be holding his breath. His gaze shifted from Quackity to each of the faces surrounding him, ending with Tommy.

Tommy lifted the sword – Dream's sword – until it leveled with J. Schlatt's dark eyes. "This is it for you," he stated, hoping he didn't sound as terrified as he felt. "The reign of terror comes to an end. Now." I don't know if I can do this. No – think of everything 'e's done. Kill 'im.

"Schlatt," and Wilbur asked him again, "what are your last words?"

Schlatt didn't move, not at first. Then he breathed in, and this time Tommy heard a faint rattling. It seemed to resonate through his own fingers, making Nightmare shudder. An otherworldly fear outstripped everything else. "Schlatt?" Tommy whispered.

The breathing broke off in a choked gasp. Schlatt's legs yielded beneath him, his eyes strained open, his hands stretched forward as if trying to grasp something – anything. But he had nothing. The emperor collapsed to the floor with the rest of the broken glass and didn't move again.

Tommy knit his brow, shook his head, stared, no feeling except a growing hardness in his stomach. What just 'appened? 'E didn't just 'ave a heart attack, did 'e? No, 'e's all right. 'E's just a bit sick.

But Schlatt still didn't move. Because he was dead.

"Mr. President?" Karl emerged from the spectators. He knelt beside Schlatt's unmoving body, repositioned him onto his back, and brushed his hair away from his lifeless eyes. "I'm here, President J. Schlatt," Karl beckoned, voice quivering more than Tommy could ever remember. "Please, Mr. President. Mr. President!"

Tommy had nowhere to put his sword. He couldn't speak, he couldn't look away, he couldn't believe – that someone had died before his very eyes. He was so scared, and he couldn't do anything.

'E's dead. Schlatt is dead. 'E died right in front of me.

A strangled gasp sounded behind Tommy. He turned and saw Quackity crumpled to the floor, face buried in his hands, body wracking with half-constrained sobs. The rest of the Camarvan congested with silence interspersed by confused mumbling. Wilbur made a noisy sigh, either from lament or contempt. He fished in his coat pocket for his next cigarette, but he had run out.

"We won." Tubbo said it first, quiet, almost monotone.

"We won!" Fundy cried, and many more joined him, except for the antagonists, or those stricken by shock or grief.

"Yeah!" blared Technoblade. "We killed an old man with heart problems! Pog! It only took ten of us!"

"We won," Tommy breathed, head spinning, never stopping. Confusion and relief and something else muddled around in his brain, but he grasped onto the one thing he wanted to hold onto forever. "We did it. This is our L'Manberg!"

A cruel chill still gripped the outside, but it wouldn't be long before the sun broke the horizon. Tommy found himself swimming in the cheering horde, towed by Wilbur's firm hand around his wrist. "Tommy," Wilbur urged. "Tommy, come with me."

"Why? Where are we going?"

Wilbur turned around, and placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder as he had earlier in Pogtopia, but it felt different this time. "Tommy," he said gently, a hint of a smile upon his lips, "you led us all into battle, and you did well. But now you need to take your place. I know you'd never think you'd hear me say this, but," he stepped back and raised his voice, "Tommy Innit, take your place on the stage and give us a speech. Or should I call you…President-elect Tommy Innit."

Tommy was too stunned to move. He vaguely heard the applause around him, the smiles, the fireworks, but they sounded so distant.

President? Tommy Innit?

"Go for it, Tommy," came a choked voice that resembled Quackity's. "Go for it."

Tommy's legs moved as if they had their own will. He shuffled up the steps to the stage, circumventing the broken planks until he came to the microphone. There it all was: their friends, their enemies, their L'Manberg.

In the absence of Sam, Tubbo and Fundy meddled with the sound equipment until it came to life. Tommy tapped the mic with a finger, feeling the soft resonance emitting from the speakers. " 'Ello, everyone," he said slowly. For once, he didn't know what to say. How could he speak after everything that had happened – losing his home, reclaiming it, and standing here now as its new president? A hundred feelings bubbled within him, but he couldn't name half of them. "It – it looks like we've won." He let out a breath of laughter. "And I never thought I'd say this, but even after the 'ardships, the tyranny we've been through –" He singled out his closest compatriots standing in the audience. "Wilbur, Tubbo, after everything – it was meant to be!"

"It was meant to be!" Eret echoed. Many more joined him, rejoicing in this most beautiful moment. Karl down below, Ponk peeking out from the tenements, and even the Badlands, having escaped the eastern tower to join the celebrations.

But not all of them. At the furthest end of the plaza stood Dream, never bowing. He had his battle axe again. Sam and Sapnap were nowhere to be seen, but Punz sat upon the cobblestones at Dream's feet. Both master and mercenary looked tired, but at the same time, eerily resolute.

Tommy stared at Dream, even as he continued his speech. "Wilbur…thank you. Thank you everyone for making me the president. I never thought I would be."

Wilbur smiled wide, looking so much like his old self. Maybe 'e will be all right. "And yet you can be."

"Wilbur." Tommy didn't smile back. He couldn't, not with Dream there. "I can't be the president."

And Dream laughed.

Tommy continued. "Because, as much as this would 'ave been everything, I've still got unfinished business. Dream's still got my disc. And I can't do this until we're done. And Dream," he said, stern, "we're not done." He took a deep breath. "So Wilbur, I know there were points when we thought you were going to blow it all up. You go on about your shtupid Chekhov's gun, I know. That was all just talk, just talk." Wilbur looked like he wanted to say something, but instead smiled down at the cobblestone. "Wilbur, you made this. L'Manberg is yours. The war is over, November 16th is over, and there wasn't a single explosion. You're my president, Wilbur. Please, come up to the stage."

No one cheered, but no one protested either. As Tommy descended the stage and Wilbur ascended, their gazes met in between. A pact of trust, of understanding, of brotherhood between them.

Wilbur assumed the mic, relaxed as usual onstage. "I'm going to keep this brief. Welcome to L'Manberg. That's right, it's L'Manberg. Please use the name correctly from here on. Something else I want changed is that flag over there." Everyone's necks swiveled to the flagpole and the red-and-black banner at its summit. "Burn it. That is not the national flag of our nation. The national flag is yellow, black, red, white, and blue, and that's how it should be. That's one of the first things I want changed. However!" He paused, hand held high. "I also cannot be your president."

Tommy, already clapping, stopped short. "Why?" Somewhere behind him, Technoblade plugged something about anarchy. Tommy whipped around and gave him the death stare.

"That's just it," said Wilbur. "Techno, you've taught me a lot. That government is not the way to go. And I agree with you. So I'm going to hand off the presidency to someone else. And I want this to be the last time." He stared up at the stage canopy, and heaved a sigh. "It's important to know how to say goodbye to a nation. There's only one other person who could possibly be the president of my L'Manberg."

Tommy frowned, scanned the assemblage. If not me, if not Wilbur, then who?

Wilbur hailed the new president. "Tubbo, I want you to come onto the stage."

All eyes snapped to the bee boi. "Oh!" he exclaimed, as surprised as everyone else. But wot a perfect choice it is! Tubbo! Why 'adn't I realized it sooner? Wilbur beckoned him again. Tubbo hurried forward. "Uh…okay."

While the round seventeen-year-old climbed the stage, Wilbur talked. "I know you're good at preparing speeches and it's probably a bit traumatic being up here again, but I want you to wing this one, Tubbo. Tubbo? Tubbo, look at me."

Tubbo turned, trembling as he had in front of Schlatt, but this was different. "Yeah?"

Wilbur burst into a grin. "Tubbo, you're a good kid and an even better spy."

'E's making it up to Tubbo!

Tubbo managed a tiny, happy smile. Not his regular smile, as usual, but Tommy didn't care at the moment.

"Let's go!" Tommy harrahed. It was meant to be! It was meant to be!

Wilbur took his place beside Tommy down in the plaza, and Tubbo came to the front of the stage. So many eyes gazed up at the boy; his little shoulders looked barely strong enough to hold them all. He first removed his helmet, displaying his face smudged with grime and the dark brown roots poking through his blond hair. The droopy eyelid made it look like he was giving them all a very long wink. It took him a minute to figure out where to put the helmet. He finally tucked it behind the curtains. "Okay, well," he looked embarrassed, "I've been put on the spot here. All around, I'm surrounded by friends, uh, enemies which I don't hate all that much, I'll be honest. Everyone here is brought together, whether we were fighting against each other or together. And I feel like that's important. Like there's a solid future to be built on here. Yes, it has damages, but everything has damages." He rubbed his bandaged hands together. "When I think of damage, I think of, like, a piece of wood that had nails banged into it. But you can take the nails out. There's still holes, but they can be filled, okay?" Then he lifted his voice, and everyone listened more closely. "That's what I would like to do as my job as president. I don't want to, like, be an agent of chaos, or someone wants to start violent activity. That's, honestly, that's the last thing on my agenda right now. I just want to, you know, I want to fix this place up. And I feel like, you know, everyone's here in unity. There aren't any walls, although the walls were nice." He took a moment to study the open land, and the last hints of soot tracing the walls' foundations. "But everyone can be here. We've all fought for this nation, against it or to reclaim it. And I think that's what counts. Thank you, everyone. It's been…it's been an honor."

The masses applauded. Tubbo looked even smaller, weighed down by the enthusiasm and praise, but he couldn't not smile. When they died down enough, he spoke again, sheepish, "So, I'm gonna be honest. I really don't know what a president does."

No one cared. Everyone loved the bee boi.

Wilbur touched Tommy's shoulder. "I'll be back," he whispered, and withdrew from the crowd.

Tommy didn't look at him, focused on Tubbo, his Tubbo, his new president. "Mr. President," Tommy said proudly. He said it again. He loved how it sounded.

Tubbo caught his eye and smiled broadly, much more like his old self. Then he remembered everyone was still watching him, and he stammered into the microphone, "W-We should start to take down my execution decorations now. That's a good place to start, I think."

Everyone agreed, and, after lining up to pat the new president on the back, got to work on removing the decorations. Tubbo skipped down to join them, eager to rebuild, remodel, and raise up his new country. Like Wilbur, he was also acting more like Tommy remembered. We'll all be all right.

Tommy marched through the plaza, ensuring everyone was busy folding bunting or deconstructing tacky festival backdrops. He found Skeppy and Bad wandering through, and he assigned them to take care of the body in the Camarvan. Then he singled out Dream still loafing about the far end of the plaza with Punz. Tommy stomped up to him. "Look at you, Dream! Look at the bad guy! Feeling good after being quashed, ey?"

One side of Dream's mouth curled in amusement. Punz pounced to his feet, sidling between Dream and Tommy, all fierceness save for the hard twitching in his face – surely his attempts at ignoring the pain in his arm.

But Tubbo intruded, laden with at least a dozen lanterns. "No, I don't want any – I don't want any sides, okay? No gangs, no more fighting in this land, okay?"

"Doesn't change the fact that 'e's the bad guy," Tommy snorted.

"Maybe, but –" Tubbo shifted his load, and his bangs fell into his face. He lifted his gaze, looking somewhere just above him. "Where's my…my…?"

"Wot? Your 'elmet? You left it back there on the stage."

"Oh, you're right!" And Tubbo dumped the lanterns on the cobblestone, making a beeline for the stage as if his helmet were the most important thing in the world.

"You don't need it now!" Tommy howled after him. "We should really take all the armor off anyways." Tommy started plucking at his own straps, when he got distracted by Dream's existence once more. No bee boi present to stop him, Tommy picked up his reproval where he had left it. "Look at you, Dream! You're always saying you're about actions, not words, and yet that's all you've been as of late! Like that 'ole thing about a traitor! All nonsense, am I right?"

Dream didn't so much as twitch. "Oh no, there was a traitor."

This caught the ears of a couple of citizens. They cast worried looks at each other.

A shudder crept up Tommy's spine. He shrugged it off. "Well they missed their chance now, 'aven't they?"

"No, they haven't. In fact, I think they are on it right now."

Tommy wouldn't believe it. But he couldn't keep his gaze from wandering over the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, doing something they shouldn't. No, there was Fundy lowering the Manberg banner. Eret assisted Nihachu in taking down the ragged bunting. Skeppy and Bad were teetering out of the Camarvan with Schlatt's body. Quackity cowered close to Tommy, having heard the conversation, but Karl pulled him away to gather materials to fix the stage. Technoblade raised his fireworks launcher, ready to color the predawn sky in celebration.

And then.

Tubbo's scream splintered through the sound system combined with a deafening wave of feedback. Everyone covered their ears before the speakers gave their last with a screeching snap. Tommy faced the stage in time to see the last sparkles of fireworks shower from the canopy. The new president, bandaged hands covering his face, huddled at the back of the platform, away from the sizzling embers riddled across the floorboards.

At first, Tommy didn't know what had happened, when he saw the flash of ender pearl green shoot toward the stage, and Technoblade disappeared. The legend crashed onto the stage, jarring more embers off the canopy. He marched up to Tubbo's whimpering form, and wrenched him up by the edge of his chestplate. Technoblade, who had once tended to the injured boy so gently, now threw him against one of the posts and held him there. His other hand hoisted the fireworks launcher; he drove the end of it up to Tubbo's head.

"Wha–!" Tommy stumbled forward, rubbing his eyes to ensure he was seeing correctly. "Techno, what are you –"

Then Technoblade whipped his head around, eyes blazing red with such hatred as Tommy had never seen. And Tommy understood what it meant to fear Technoblade. The fear in Sapnap's gaze at the Battle of the Burning Tower, the despair in knowing your imminent demise, reflected in Tommy's own eyes. "What are you doing, Technoblade?!" Tommy demanded, confused, terrified.

Technoblade's voice started as a whisper, then rose in grating volume, every condemning word meant to be heard and felt throughout the country. "I did not spend weeks plannin' this revolution, givin' you guys gear, for you guys to go and replace one tyrant with another!" He ground Tubbo against the post. The legend's untamed hair lashed the night in ethereal pink. "Don't you see what's happenin' here?! Don't you see history repeatin' itself?! You think Schlatt was the cause of your problems? No! It was government! Power corrupts!"

All the bewildering emotions and thoughts from earlier swirled closer and louder in Tommy's brain, screaming louder and louder, becoming indecipherable.

What is 'appening…

"Techno?" Tubbo breathed, fingers feebly pulling at Technoblade's grasp. "What are you saying?"

"I'm sayin' that we need to have no government," said Technoblade to his face. "It's what I've been sayin' since the beginnin'."

A green and purple blur caught the corner of Tommy's eye. He dodged just as Dream's battle axe swung down on his right. Tommy unsheathed Nightmare. On all sides, allies and enemies took up the weapons they still had on them. Everyone jumped about, scared, not knowing who might come up behind them and clear their heads from their shoulders. Bad and Skeppy ran off with Schlatt's body, the cowards. Tommy deflected Dream's strikes, all the while trying to tear away from him and get to the stage. "Dream – Dream, no –" He fumbled with his knapsack, found an ender pearl, and flung it in the direction of Technoblade and Tubbo. It was just like the Red Festival. "Techno, stop!" he yelled, teleporting to the rim of the dais. He gripped Nightmare and shot forward, intending to sever Technoblade's arm, the one holding the fireworks launcher. Technoblade evaded, and reeled the launcher toward Tommy's legs. The metal frame struck Tommy's shins, sweeping him to the floor. Nightmare slipped from his fingers. Just as Tommy tried to get up, Technoblade planted his boot on his chest, the sharp heel digging under his ribcage. Tommy gasped. The boards creaked beneath him.

"I see I was wrong to rely on other people," Technoblade rumbled.

Through the exchange, Tubbo had managed to struggle free. But instead of fleeing for his life, he threw himself at the legend. Technoblade tossed him aside, whipped the launcher around at the boy and pulled the trigger. The only thing Tommy heard was his own jagged intake of breath. The only thing he saw was Tubbo ducking beside him, barely dodging the missile. The rocket surged through the curtains behind them, then exploded. Tommy covered his ears, screamed.

When the sound cleared and Tommy opened his eyes, Technoblade's foot no longer held him captive. The legend stood before him at the edge of the stage, deflecting arrows and sending fireworks back their way. "DEATH TO TYRANTS!" he roared, sword uplifted in his other hand. Then he leapt off the platform into the plaza, ready to kill them all.

Technoblade, why…? I knew we shouldn't…when you blew up Tubbo…But I thought…the deathless land…I thought…we were friends…

"We've got to get out of 'ere!" Tommy reached out and clenched the edge of Tubbo's pauldron. "Are you okay, Mr. President?"

At first Tubbo didn't move. Then his fists moved away from his poor bandaged face and Tommy saw the tears brimming his eyes. "Tommy?" he sniffed.

Tommy gave him a good shake. "It's all right. We're gonna get through this. Let's find Wilbur."

Tubbo no sooner replied with a muted nod, than Tommy heard a chuckle – a deep, mocking chuckle. He and Tubbo slowly turned. Dream stood not three meters away through the tattered curtains, the face of the White House – blistered with scorch marks – rising behind him. The masked man laughed again. "You know who was the traitor? You know who the traitor was, Tommy?"

"T-Techno –" Tommy stuttered.

Dream shook his head. "Are you really that dense as to not see the traitor in front of you this whole time?"

Tommy stiffened, feeling very, very cold.

What does 'e mean? No. "No!" cried Tommy as he grasped Dream's meaning. He jumped to his feet, wielding Nightmare. "Technoblade just turned on us! It's Technoblade! 'E's the traitor!"

"No, it is not Technoblade."

Lingering outside the battle, gripping the flagpole, Nihachu raised her weak, saddened eyes. "Where's Wilbur…?"

Tommy started. He had taken his eyes off Wilbur for a minute, and he was gone. Tommy hadn't thought anything of it when he had let him go. Wilbur had made a promise. They had won, after all. Hadn't they?

Suddenly he was all the more terrified. The blinding colors. One of these fireworks could set off the explosives buried beneath the surface and everything would fall. But then again, if Wilbur was on his way to the button room, it was all gone anyway.

A gathering of crows circled above, watching, waiting, silence on their wings.

"Tommy," said Dream, always smiling beneath the mask, "the traitor was Wilbur."