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The coordinates glowed faintly on Wemmbu's communicator screen, numbers he'd sworn he'd deleted months ago. His thumb hovered over the delete button again—a habit, really, considering how many times he'd almost erased every trace of the PrinceZam Empire from his records. But he'd kept them. Just in case.
Just in case of what, he'd never really asked himself. Until now.
Wemmbu supposed he didn’t need to use invisibility. The forest was huge, and there should be no one in it other than Pangi and Zam.
The forest stretched endlessly before him, ancient oaks creating a canopy so thick that even at midday, the world existed in a state of perpetual twilight. It was peaceful here, Wemmbu noted with bitter irony. Peaceful in a way the Empire had never been, with its grand marble halls and golden spires reaching toward the sky like monuments to ambition itself.
He'd reduced all of that to rubble and ash.
The cottage appeared through the trees like something out of a storybook—modest, almost humble, with moss-covered stones and a chimney that leaked a thin curl of smoke into the air. Wind chimes made from bamboo tinkled softly in the breeze.
Wemmbu stopped at the tree line, staring at the scene. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered to himself. "Wind chimes? Really?"
The ex-emperor of the PrinceZam Empire, reduced to... this. Cottage-core aesthetic and living in a forest. It was almost sad. Almost.
He almost turned back. Would have, maybe, if he hadn't caught the faint glow of torchlight through the cottage window and realized that Zam was home. That made it real. Made the danger real.
The impostor had already tried to get to Egg and Boosfer. They had failed, thankfully. But unfortunately, they were persistent.
And they were smart enough to know that Zam would be perfect. The ex-emperor, living in self-imposed retirement after the fall of his kingdom.
Wemmbu took a breath and stepped out of the shadows.
The door opened before he could knock. Zam stood in the doorway, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. The ex-emperor looked... different. Smaller, somehow, without the weight of a crown and empire on his shoulders. He wore simple clothes—a worn tunic, practical boots, and a smaller crown with less jewels embedded in it this time. But his eyes were the same. Sharp. Wary. The eyes of someone who'd learned not to trust easily.
"Wemmbu." Zam's voice was carefully neutral, giving nothing away.
"Nice place you've got here," Wemmbu said, gesturing vaguely at the cottage. "Very quaint. Very 'hermit living off the land.' Are those wind chimes made from recycled materials?"
Zam's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "They're bamboo."
"Oh, bamboo. Even better. Very aesthetic."
"What do you want, Wemmbu?"
"Wow, not even going to invite me in? Where's that famous PrinceZam hospitality I keep hearing about?"
"That died with the Empire," Zam said flatly. "You know, when you blew it up."
"Right, right. My bad." Wemmbu rocked back on his heels, grinning despite himself. "But seriously, can I come in? I promise I'm not here to critique your interior decorating. Though I make no promises about your exterior decorating because those wind chimes are—"
"Five minutes," Zam interrupted, stepping aside. "You get five minutes, and then you leave."
"Five whole minutes? You spoil me."
The interior of the cottage was as modest as the exterior suggested—a single room serving as a kitchen, storage and living room. A small fireplace crackled with low flames. Books lined makeshift shelves, their spines worn from reading and re-reading. The table was set for two.
Wemmbu looked around, taking it all in with exaggerated interest. "This is... cozy. Is that the right word? Cozy? Or is it 'cramped'? I always get those two confused.” He looked at the table at the small kitchen. “That for Pangi? Where is he anyways?”
“Out checking the forest’s borders. Im starting to think he likes his alone time. Say what you came to say." Zam moved toward the kettle hanging over the fire, his movements stiff. Controlled. "Your five minutes started the moment you walked through that door."
"No tea offering first? Man, you really have fallen from grace. Emperor Zam would have had servants bringing out the good stuff by now."
Zam's hand stilled on the kettle. When he turned around, his expression was carefully blank. "Emperor Zam is dead, Wemmbu. You killed him, remember? Along with everything else."
The words should have stung. Maybe they did, a little. But Wemmbu kept his grin in place, refusing to let it slip. This was easier, somehow. The banter, the barbs. Safer than whatever messy honesty might lie underneath.
"Dramatic much?" Wemmbu said. "You're not dead. You're right here, making yourself tea in your adorable little cottage."
"Did you come all this way just to insult my living situation, or was there an actual point to this visit?"
"There's a point," Wemmbu admitted, his grin fading slightly. "Unfortunately."
"Then get to it. Four minutes."
Wemmbu sighed, running a hand through his hair. Fine. No more stalling. "There's someone on the server pretending to be me."
Zam went very still. He set the kettle down carefully before turning to face Wemmbu fully, his expression unreadable. "An impostor. And why do you have one?"
”Er… I faked my death and went under a false identity.”
“And?”
“I wanted to have a true fresh start on this server, to explore it without my reputation following me.”
"And you're telling me this because...?"
"Because they're targeting people I know. They tried to ask them my identity. Failed. And they also attempted to do bad stuff under my name." Wemmbu met Zam's eyes. "They're not going to stop. And I know you're on their list to annoy like a fly next."
Zam was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that echoed in the small space. "You think I'm a target. Me."
"I know you are."
"We barely interact anymore, Wemmbu. In case you forgot, you made sure of that when you decided the Empire looked better as a crater."
"Yeah, and that's exactly why you're a target." Wemmbu stepped closer, his tone losing some of its levity. "Think about it, Zam. Ex-emperor, living in retirement, with a very public grudge against me. You're perfect. If they come here wearing my face and do something terrible, who's going to question it?"
Zam stared at him for a long moment. Then he turned back to his tea, pouring hot water into his mug with deliberate care. "So you came all this way to warn me. How noble."
"Don't make it weird."
"I'm not making it weird. I'm just trying to figure out your angle." Zam took a sip of his tea. "You don't do anything without an angle, Wemmbu. That's kind of your whole thing."
"My angle is that I don't want someone killing you in my name. That would be inconvenient for me."
"Ah, there it is. It's about you."
"Everything's about me, Zam. I thought you knew that by now."
Despite himself, Zam's lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. "You're impossible."
"I prefer 'consistently entertaining,' but sure, impossible works too." Wemmbu pulled out a chair and sat down without waiting for an invitation. "So are we going to talk about this like adults, or are you going to keep passive-aggressively sipping your tea at me?"
"I can do both, actually. I'm multi-talented like that."
"Ooh, look at that. The ex-emperor's got jokes." Wemmbu leaned back in the chair, making himself comfortable despite Zam's obvious irritation. "Retirement must be good for you. Living out here in the woods, probably talking to birds like some kind of forest sprite—"
"I don't talk to birds."
"Sure you don't. I bet you've named them all NPC names. That one's probably Gerald, and that one over there is Margaret—"
"Wemmbu."
"What? I'm just painting a picture here."
"Paint faster. Three minutes."
Wemmbu's grin widened. "You're actually counting? That's adorable. Do you have a little timer going in your head, or—"
"Two minutes and forty-five seconds."
"Okay, okay." Wemmbu held up his hands in mock surrender. "The impostor. Right. They're smart, Zam. Really smart. They probably already know who I am and can’t prove it. Which means they definitely know about you."
"Lucky me," Zam said dryly.
"I'm serious. If they come here—"
"Then I'll deal with it. I've dealt with worse." Zam set his mug down with a decisive clink. "I survived your grand spectacle of destruction. I think I can handle one impostor."
"Oh, so we're back to that? The destruction? I thought we were having a nice moment of banter and mutual annoyance."
"We were never having a moment, Wemmbu. You showed up uninvited, insulted my cottage, and now you're sitting in my chair like you own the place."
"This chair's actually pretty comfortable. Is it handmade? Did you craft it yourself during your forest exile?"
Zam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like... this." Zam gestured vaguely at all of Wemmbu. "Incapable of having a single genuine conversation without turning it into a performance."
"Hey, I'm being plenty genuine. I genuinely think your wind chimes are hideous, and I genuinely think you should let me help you not get murdered by my twin."
"Two minutes."
"You know what? Your commitment to this arbitrary time limit is actually kind of impressive. Very emperor-like. Maybe you haven't lost all of your edge after all."
"I'm going to lose my mind," Zam muttered, but there was less heat in it now. "Fine. Explain. What exactly do you think is going to happen?"
So Wemmbu told him.
Zam listened without interruption, his expression growing more thoughtful with each detail. When Wemmbu finished, he was quiet for a long moment before speaking.
"They're not just trying to hurt you," Zam observed. "They're trying to isolate you so that they can land the final hit."
"Gold star for the ex-emperor. That's exactly what they're doing."
Zam’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you have any enemies, Wemmbu?"
Wemmbu laughed. "Oh man, how long do you have? Because that's a long list. There's you, obviously—"
"Obviously."
"—and then there's like, half the server after various incidents that may or may not have been my fault—"
"They were definitely your fault."
"—and probably some people who are still mad about things I don't even remember doing." Wemmbu ticked them off on his fingers. "Oh, and that one guy whose base I accidentally exploded. I think it was called the Law? Or something. That was unfortunate."
"You accidentally bombed The Law’s base?"
"In my defense, I was trying to get answers to where Flamefrags was."
Zam stared at him. "That's not the accident you think it is."
"Look, the point is, there are a lot of people who might want to cause problems for me. But this impostor..." Wemmbu's expression grew more serious. "They're different. They know too much. They've been watching too carefully."
Zam drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "One minute, by the way."
"Are you serious? You're still—"
"Fifty-five seconds."
"You're the worst. You know that, right? Just the absolute worst."
But there was no real heat in the words, and Zam's lips quirked upward despite himself. "Forty-five seconds."
"Fine. Here's what I need from you: be careful. If someone who looks like me shows up here, assume it's the impostor until proven otherwise. Don't trust them, don't let them in, and definitely don't let them apologize to you."
"Apologize?" Zam's eyebrows rose. "Why would they apologize?"
"Because that's what I'd do if I was them. Show up, looking contrite, apologize for everything, offer to help you rebuild or reconnect or whatever. Get your guard down." Wemmbu met Zam's eyes. "And then strike when you're vulnerable."
Zam considered this, his expression unreadable. "You really think they'd play it that way?"
"I know I would, if I wanted to hurt you in the most effective way possible."
"That's... surprisingly honest."
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I've hit my honesty quota for the month." Wemmbu stood, stretching. "So. Are you going to be careful, or do I need to camp outside your cottage like some kind of bodyguard? Because I will. I'll set up a tent right next to your wind chimes. Maybe add some of my own."
"Please don't."
"I'm thinking something really gaudy. Maybe crafted from iron so they clank really loud—"
"If you care about my wellbeing at all, you will not add wind chimes to my property."
Wemmbu grinned. "Is that a 'thank you for warning me, Wemmbu, I appreciate you taking the time'?"
"It's a 'get out of my cottage before I physically remove you.'"
"Wow, so ungrateful. I travel all this way, brave the terrible forest—"
"The only remotely dangerous here is Pangi’s sword."
"—risk life and limb to warn you about a dangerous impostor—"
"You walked here. In daylight. Without invis.”
"—and this is the thanks I get." Wemmbu shook his head in mock disappointment. "Former royalty really has no manners anymore."
Zam stood as well, crossing his arms. "Your five minutes are up."
"Actually, I'm pretty sure we went over by at least three minutes, but who's counting?" Wemmbu moved toward the door, then paused. "Seriously though, Zam. Be careful. This impostor... they're good. And they're going to keep trying until they succeed."
"I'll be careful," Zam said, his tone softer now. Less defensive. "And Wemmbu?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For the warning. Even if you delivered it in the most obnoxious way possible."
"Obnoxious is my brand. You know this." Wemmbu pulled the door open, cool forest air rushing in. "Oh, and one more thing—if the impostor does show up and you need help? Don't be too proud to call. I know you've got this whole 'retired hermit' thing going on, but—"
"I'll call," Zam interrupted. "If I need to."
"Good. Great. Fantastic." Wemmbu stepped out onto the porch, then turned back. "Your wind chimes are still ugly, by the way."
"Get off my property."
"Getting! I'm getting!" Wemmbu raised his hands, backing away toward the trees. "Enjoy your vegetables and fruits and your cozy little cottage and your terrible decorating choices!"
"Goodbye, Wemmbu!"
But there was something almost fond in Zam's exasperation, and Wemmbu caught it. Caught the way the corner of Zam's mouth twitched upward despite his best efforts to look annoyed. It was something, at least. Not friendship—they were way too far gone for that. But not pure animosity either.
As Wemmbu disappeared back into the forest, he found himself smiling. The conversation had gone better than expected. Zam had been warned, had taken it seriously despite all the banter. And maybe, just maybe, some of that old tension between them had eased. Just a fraction.
Not forgiveness. Wemmbu didn't expect forgiveness, didn't even think he deserved it. But something like... understanding. Acknowledgment that whatever had happened between them, they didn't have to be enemies forever.
Behind him, he heard the cottage door close, followed by the soft tinkle of those terrible wind chimes in the breeze.
"They really are ugly though," Wemmbu muttered to himself, grinning as he headed back toward the coordinates to the Great Sea.