Long Live L'Manberg

Chapter 56: Keep Your Enemies Closer

"Fuckin' hell, mate!"

Jack's shoulder slumped low to the ground as the weight of the stone sword suddenly made contact with his hand. Using all of his might, Jack's lanky arms attempted to lift the mass of stone and swing it at a decent pace, but the task was admittedly difficult. In front of him stood a training dummy constructed from a bale of hay, each of the boys pouncing on them at their own individual pace. He watched as Tommy swung the sword down with such force that the hay bale clattered to the floor and split in half, the boy proceeding to swing and lunge at it like a wild animal. On the other hand, Tubbo was poking the hay bale with the point of his sword, almost as if he was afraid it would come alive and fight back.

Both Quackity and Niki were occupied assembling weapons, potions, and miscellaneous objects for their battle tonight. As she sharpened the edge of one of the swords, Niki caught a glimpse of Quackity who looked almost green. Her shoulders shrunk, knowing exactly why he seemed so off about today. "Quackity," she beckoned softly, a frown appearing at the corners of her mouth. "I'm really sorry. I know this must be hard."

Quackity sniffed, using the edge of his sleeve to wipe his nose, "I'm fine, Niki." His behavior spoke numbers against him, his somber demeanor poorly belying the turmoil that was roiling inside him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Wilbur oversaw the training progress, watching closely as each of the boys got ahold of their weapons. He scrutinizingly watched as his army trained for the upcoming battle, his eyes fixating on Tommy. 

What his brother failed to realize was at the end of the day, Wilbur did not want to press the button, but the current state of their former home left him no choice. It was what had to be done. No matter how long he sat down and thought things through and devised plan after plan, that button would always remain the strongest option in the back of his mind. Even though a glimmer of hope was beginning to appear with Schlatt being weak and outnumbered, he couldn't help but feel like this plan was not enough. They had the numbers, but their efforts combined still didn't amount to much.

Wilbur fumbled with the hole in his coat pocket until his fingers caressed a worn-down piece of paper. He pulled it out and adjusted his glasses to better examine it. The paper was the same one that Techno had given him when they first crossed paths. The ink was smudged, but the digits of his cell number were still barely readable. He clenched the paper as he bit the inside of his cheek in thought. The last time the two were in the same room he had threatened to end his opponent's life, and now here he was contemplating a favor. Yanking his phone out of his pocket, Wilbur punched the digits onto the small keypad. Putting everything aside, it still was worth a try.

"Look out!" Tommy clamored as he wound up his body before recoiling forward sending his axe flying at a lethal speed toward the only remaining hay dummy. The axe rotated rapidly, nearly nicking Tubbo on the cheek before wedging itself into the bale of hay. "Oi!" barked the brunette as he ducked his head to avoid the incoming weapon. "Watch where you're throwing that thing!"

The blonde triumphantly sauntered over with a smug grin spread from ear to ear. "How's my aim now?" Tommy snickered as he placed his hands on his hips, leaning forward with squinted eyes as he observed the axe which had landed nowhere near the center of the target.

"Still bloody terrible!" croaked Tubbo as he playfully slapped his friend on the back, the two of them sharing a brief chuckle.

Turning his attention to the left, Wilbur watched as Fundy leaned forward with agility, jabbing the sword through the mass of hay as he practiced his sword-fighting skills. Careful not to startle him, Wilbur made his way behind his son and cleared his throat. Fundy jumped slightly before whipping his head around to meet eyes with his father. His shoulders sagged as he placed the sword on the floor, his eyes focused on the calluses on his hands. Anything that helped him avoid eye contact with Wilbur was virtually ideal. "Hello," he coughed awkwardly.