protected - dnf

twenty

Hi :)

I really loved writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy reading!

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 Things in Mercia were... quite strange.

They had been for a while, Tommy supposed, but they were especially strange recently.

The group of sorcerers his mentor, Malcolm, had introduced him to that one time? Telling him they were an elite group of magic users who could help Tommy in the future? Well, Malcolm hadn't been wrong, because they were basically in charge now, calling the shots from what used to be King William's castle. Minx, that woman with silver hair and a wild gaze that had intimidated the shit out of Tommy – she had the most power, giving orders from the throne.

But Tommy wasn't so happy with how she was running things. Sure, he was glad he could do magic more openly now; it made his chores a lot easier, for one thing, and he had impressed a few girls his age with some of his best tricks. But under the Circle, acceptance of those who could do magic was being matched with outright prejudice against anyone who couldn't. Nobles without magic had disappeared mysteriously, and good citizens were being removed from their positions, replaced by those loyal to the Circle.

Well, that didn't sit right with Tommy. His best friend, Tubbo, who worked in the kitchen in Lord Wilbur's castle, couldn't use magic, but that didn't make him any lesser than Tommy. Tommy didn't like the sudden special treatment he was getting from Circle members, and he especially didn't like how they talked to Tubbo, like he was useless or stupid or something.

He suspected Wilbur didn't much like the Circle, either, although they never talked about it. If Tommy brought it up, Lord Wilbur's eyes would go guarded and he'd change the topic right away.

But they couldn't avoid the conversation any longer when Tommy waltzed into Wilbur's chambers one day, holding the boots Wilbur had asked him to mend, and saw him helping a blond man wrap bandages around a bleeding stranger. The wounded man was hunched over, breathing heavily, and blood dripped from his hands, staining the wooden floor.

"Uh.... Wilbur?" Tommy asked, dropping the boots, and Wilbur looked up at him with a grimace.

"Tommy, lock the door, would you?" Wilbur asked.

Tommy turned around numbly, doing so as he heard the wounded stranger hiss in pain.

"Just relax, Techno," the blond man said.

Tommy's eyes widened as he looked at Wilbur. "What is going on right now?"

Handing the bandages off to the other man, Wilbur grabbed Tommy by his arm and dragged him a little bit away. "These are some... old friends of mine."

"Did that guy say Techno?" Tommy hissed. "As in, Technoblade?"

Wilbur winced. "Ah, well. Um..."

"He did," Tommy said, and then was struck with an even greater revelation. "You're friends with the Blade?!"

"Like I said," Wilbur said, glancing back. "Old friends. Our paths diverged a long time ago."

Tommy shook his head in astonishment. "Well, how the hell did he end up here?"

"It's a long story, and it's not important," Wilbur said with a sigh. "What is important is what he just told me. Tommy, Mercia is going to war with Camelot."