BLIND | DreamSMP

XXXV - Redemption

Fundy had never been brave.

Since he was young he had shied away from confrontation, choosing to remain quiet and subservient in the face of conflict.

He reminded himself there was nothing wrong with that. Some people just weren't meant to be courageous. Others could be the leaders, the thinkers, the creators; he would stay a blurry piece of the background. It was safer, after all, to hide behind the daunting personalities of those who were indomitable in ways he wasn't. So he scampered from place to place with his tail between his legs, following every order Quackity gave him without complaint or objection while doing his best to keep out of the way. In the hopes of staying alive, he had left behind his family and friends. The insults and abuse Quackity flung at him made him feel small and pathetic, but he didn't regret it.

And even if he did, there was no turning back now.

The stage was set for the execution. The hastily-erected platform was built a foot above the plaza, a tightly-packed circle of stone surrounding the tall metal pole planted in the center. It held all the importance of a flagpole, yet bore no insignia or design, rendering it soulless.

A short distance away stood Tubbo, still looking slightly dazed, and at his side, Ranboo, nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Behind them, Fundy rocked back and forth on his heels, bushy tail flicking in apprehension. Occasionally, he threw a glance at Phil, who stood close by, staring straight ahead. He didn't shift or fidget, though his shoulders were sore and restless from the pull of the manacles. Fundy had brought him to the plaza only a few minutes ago, but the tension was already insufferable, worsening at Quackity's arrival.

He strolled into view with the two prisoners, leading each with a chain attached to their shackled wrists. His footsteps were light and cheerful, contrasting the heavy steps of his captives. On the left was his trophy, the reward his perseverance had yielded; the enemy of his country, bound and completely at his mercy; on the right, an extra bonus.

It was obvious he was gloating as he pranced around the plaza and onto the platform.

"Citizens of L'Manberg!" He bellowed. "On this evening, I bring before you the terrorist who destroyed the peace we had worked so hard to maintain. He burned our country and released monsters into the rubble to try and ensure we could not rebuild; but we were stronger than he had anticipated. We not only returned our beautiful city to its former glory, but resolved to take measures to prevent such a disaster from happening ever again. Tonight, we will see more than talk of these measures; we will see action being taken! This is L'Manberg's second trial, and I assure you, I have not taken matters lightly. There will be justice, no matter the cost.

"Now, I'm sure you're all curious about Tommy. If I were a more ruthless man, I would have him put to trial with Technoblade, but in truth, I have only pity in my heart for this poor boy. While he served as an accomplice, it was clear to me that he had been brainwashed and deceived into believing the violent propaganda Techno espouses, and thus, I feel it's only right to spare him. Fundy, come up here and take him off the stage."

Fundy meekly obeyed, scurrying up the steps to lead Tommy into the audience. He debated for a moment whether to have the boy stay beside him, before deciding to awkwardly position Tommy on Phil's left, close enough to touch his father.

"I believe it's time for the trial to commence!" Quackity said with a delighted smile. He shoved Techno towards the metal pole, making sure his back was pressed against the thick rod before undoing one manacle. He kept a vice-like grip on Techno's wrist as he redid his bonds, this time around the pole.

Stepping away with ceremonious flair, Quackity continued his speech. "You are charged with one count of assault with a deadly weapon, one count of conspiracy, one count of arson, three counts of disturbing the peace, four counts of attempted murder, and six counts of vandalism. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," Techno replied grimly.

Quackity sighed. "Add one count of perjury to the list." He turned again to the audience. "The court finds Technoblade guilty of all charges, and sentences him to death by immolation!"

Phil's face remained emotionless, but he sharply inhaled and clutched at Tommy, squeezing the boy's small hands in his own creased fists.

"Death?" questioned a small voice. "Quackity, what are you talking about?" Tubbo leaned on Ranboo for support as he spoke. "We can't kill Techno– that's not– it isn't what we were supposed to do! We were just going to put him in the prison, remember?"

"A few decades in prison is too weak a punishment for scum like him," Quackity spat. "Get up here, Fundy, and start laying down kindling."

Fundy felt eyes bore into him as he hurried to the platform. They were looking at him, staring in disbelief and horror as he piled dry logs into his arms. The bark scratched at his skin, leaving angry red lines on his forearms. He dropped them at Techno's feet, and went back for another load. Again, he let them fall– save one.

The bark crunched as he wrapped his palms around the log, gripping it tight. He tensed.

Fundy had never been brave.

But he wanted to be.

He started sprinting, racing towards Quackity, and though his mind was screaming at him to stop, to turn back, to retreat before he got himself killed, he couldn't stop. He knew he was much too slow, that Quackity had already raised his hands to shield his face and body, and that he was too weak to do more than inconvenience the man, but still, he raised the log and struck at Quackity with all the force he could muster.

Quackity stumbled back, the surprise widening his face quickly transforming into fury that contracted his features.

"So that's how it is, huh?"

The fear returned now. "D-don't come any closer," Fundy stuttered, holding the log up. "I'll h-hit you again!" The threat sounded feeble even to his own ears.

He didn't get the chance to deliver another blow as Quackity tackled him, wresting the log from his hands. He felt the wood bash his chest, knocking air from his lungs, and cried out as his head was struck. He was pushed to the ground, hands clutching at his skull in an attempt to protect himself, but the hits still came, and soon his fingers were slick with blood. Quackity was saying things he couldn't understand through the blood in his ears. He kept waiting to lose consciousness, but darkness never came.

Finally, the last blow was struck, and he was left alone, halfway between life and death– and not regretting it one bit.