Long Live L'Manberg

Chapter 38: In Schlatt We Trust

"Look, if you're so fuckin' interested in the law, why don't you go out there and apprehend Wilbur and Tommy before I hire someone else to take your place." Tubbo went quiet. He had to maintain that position since it gave him an excuse for running off in search of his friends. "Everyone's replaceable, Tubbo. So you might as well make yourself useful instead of bitching. Capiche?"

Tubbo didn't utter a word, his only response being a quick nod of his head. He began to turn around before Schlatt stopped him by grasping his shoulder, his body tensing in response. "And get changed out of that stupid uniform, you smell awful."

Everyone's replaceable, huh? Quackity's lips drew into a thin line as he wondered how far the boundaries of that statement stretched. He watched as Tubbo scurried toward the pickaxes, beginning to chip away at the wall with the rest of the crew. Crowds of people tore down the bricks, a cleanup crew following close behind, piling up the rubble. The cycle repeated itself until a good third of the wall was completely wiped from history.

"Schlatt," Quackity began to speak before his brain could have a moment to process. "I know you mean well, and I'm sure we're doing the right thing by expanding," he scratched the back of his neck, "but...shouldn't the vice president have some kind of a say in this whole thing?"

Without bothering to give him the time of day to even turn around and speak to his face, Schlatt merely responded. "I mean, I'm not gonna care. You still can try, though," he chuckled, finding his cruel remark rather amusing as he removed himself from the conversation. Schlatt strolled over towards Eret's crew, clapping his palms together to startle the group. "Chop chop, Eret! These walls aren't going to destroy themselves!"

Just like that, Quackity was left with a handful of time to sit and think. His relationship with Schlatt had always been a tricky one. They were friends, they always have been. Lately, Schlatt's demeanor had drastically changed, going down a path he was not particularly fond of. He was fairly certain he didn't swing that way, nor did he believe Schlatt did. A part of him felt that Schlatt was only acting this way to have an unbalanced sense of power over him- one where the scale would never be tipped, but another part of him didn't hate it either. It was such a giant mess, and it certainly was not worth the hassle of speaking up for himself either. He wanted this, he might as well put up with it. He just wished Schlatt never dabbled in this gray area of their partnership. Not now. Not to mention, that comment earlier made him feel queasy- or was he just overreacting?

He continued to walk up the prime path, the light wood creaking under his shoes. If he really had no say in any congressional decision made by Schlatt, what was his true role in all of this? Perhaps he could be the voice of reason. The exile seemed a bit harsh, especially considering the fact that neither Tommy nor Wilbur had anything else to their names except a caravan and an acre of land. At the end of the day, Quackity cared for the people. Surely Schlatt shared that same goal.

As he approached the top of a nearby hill, a flicker of blonde hair caught his eye. He glanced up, meeting the eyes of none other than the boy who he cast out mere days ago.

"Tommy?" he questioned in bewilderment. That kid had a lot of guts to show his face at a time like this.

Quackity watched the boy freeze like a deer in headlights. He stood there looking like a kicked puppy, a look of desperation in his tired eyes. He hoisted a leather satchel over his shoulder that appeared to be jammed with stolen items. At a closer glance, he noticed the boy had stashed food, his leather bag practically bursting at the seams with bread, apples, and vegetables.

"Quackity, please..." Tommy pleaded. It was certainly ironic that Tommy was yet again at his mercy, but something inside him decided that the boy had suffered enough. He turned around as if nothing had happened and let Tommy escape out of sight. The vice president himself had just broken one of the strictest laws in the country, but that didn't bother him. He didn't want them killed. He just wanted them out.