Long Live L'Manberg

Chapter 11: Stalemate

"Tommy?"

The boy lay motionless on the ground, his vision slowly returning through a blurry haze. He had never felt so cold before, the frigid chill feeling like it was coursing through his bloodstream. His back rested against something soft, his aching bones not allowing for much movement.

"Tommy, can you hear me?"

A frantic, muffled voice reached out to him. It sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a pool, drowned out by the thumping in his ears. His eyelids were heavy, drooping as he fought to open them.

"Oh god, is he dead? I think he's dead!"

"Would you calm down?! He's fine!"

Despite them being right in front of him, he had difficulty differentiating the surrounding voices. A fuzzy, dim light caught his attention as three heads came into focus. They were hovering over him, a look of alarm washed over their faces. He let out a soft groan before slowly opening his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the light.

"What the hell," he mumbled softly, his eyelids fluttering a few times as he regained consciousness. "What...happened?"

"Tommy!" Tubbo cheered, throwing his arms around his best friend and embracing him tightly. A wave of relief washed over the room as Tommy slowly woke up. "Thank goodness you're alright! We were so worried!" Tommy flinched when he made contact with his companion, his body still sore from the fight.

"How long have I been out..?" Tommy asked warily, his eyes scanning the room. His heart dropped as he noticed all of the injuries littered along the bodies of his friends, recollection of the battle all coming back to him.

"About fifteen minutes," Wilbur frowned as he examined the damage on Tommy, lowering his head. A part of him felt responsible for his brother's injuries. Wilbur took a damp cloth from the sink, wringing it out before gently wiping the blood from his brother's forehead.

"Eret..." Tommy suddenly mumbled, remembering the exchange that occurred moments before he passed out. Tommy slowly rose to his feet, his legs still bruised from his injuries. In the time he was unconscious, the boys had collectively moved him back home. He rested on a medical cot inside of the caravan, Eret noticeably absent.

"Wilbur," Tommy asked cautiously as if he didn't want to know the answer to his next question. "What do we do now?"

There it was, the question he had been dreading ever since Eret had pulled the rug out from under their feet. It would be foolish to Wilbur to say he had any sort of backup plan up his sleeve, especially for something he could never have predicted. If anything, this setback put them even further behind, the group finding themselves in a worse position than they were before the war. L'Manberg's odds slimmed as each second passed, Wilbur knew that more than anyone else. His heart began to race, but he did his best to bottle his panic.

"Tommy, I..." his voice trailed off as he folded his arms tight, biting the inner corner of his cheek. "I'll figure something out, I promise. As of right now, we don't have much to work with."

"We have each other!" Tubbo wrapped an arm around Tommy's shoulder with a smile. It truly was heartwarming to see everyone so optimistic, but Wilbur remained a realist at heart. He knew that surrender was right around the corner unless they played every last one of their cards right. There was no room for error.

Fundy looked down and sighed, a dreary look glazing over his brown eyes. "Why Eret? What did we do that would warrant...this?"

Tommy sealed his lips, a look of guilt written all over him. As he studied his brother's response, Wilbur remembered what Eret had said to him during the betrayal.