Chapter Text
The first time Philza met the infamous Emperor Technoblade was through his work.
Adventurer, finder, deliveryman, Phil did it all. He was a one-man business dedicated to keeping himself in the sky and affluent. It was his birthright as a full-blooded Elytrian. Some rich noble type would write a contract and send him out to go find a precious commodity from a faraway land, and Phil could come back with it faster than any wagon, steed or ship could dream of. In other cases, the fact that he could live to come back with it at all was the impressive part. Philza Minecraft: Winged Marvel Extraordinaire and never the man to refuse a quest.
Even from bloodthirsty dictators.
It wasn’t his first journey to the Antarctic Empire the day that they were formally introduced. He was well acquainted with the region and its people on account of their specific need for his services.
The land in the icy heart of the Empire was a frostbitten one. When it wasn’t enduring the wrath of billowing snowstorms that locked down travel, it was being bored to death by the unforgiving and permafrosted earth that ensured nothing but the heartiest of crops could survive. The castle, perched atop an easily defensible but eternally frigid mountaintop was even more segregated from the wider world. Any amenity had to be imported up the long and steep road, with nothing coming in or out that couldn’t be seen for a mile by the royal guard.
And while all of these factors made certain that no army would dare attempt to conquer them or even hope to assassinate their warmongering leader…
The place was a fucking snoozefest.
Generals, the likes of which appeared to be cut from the same kind of resource-ridden rock that made their nation so affluent, had been absolutely obsessed with spices, tropical fruit, exotic creatures, and other wonders of the outside world. These people paid hand over fist for even the most touristy items if it meant they could get their hands on them within the month and boast about it to all their associates. Not only was it easy money, but Phil loved the fact that he was a local legend to them.
He beat his wings once, twice, and then again, soaring over the capital on his journey to the castle.
Winding streets passed below him in a blur of stone brick roads and houses that became larger and gaudier the closer he got to his destination. Whenever he went low enough, Phil could smell the woodsy smoke that rose up from countless chimneys and fireplaces. The Empire was pretty, he’d give it that, but it was also robust. Every roof was slanted to shirk off the snow, giving the Empire this… sharp appearance.
Fitting.
“State your entry.”
The castle guards looked down at him with no particular emotion. Although, Phil supposed that he wouldn’t be very expressive if he were told to sit out in the cold all day. Poor lads' faces were probably frozen.
“I’m here to deliver goods for Lady Nihachu,” Phil cleared his throat, awkwardly. “I understand that she’s currently visiting here?”
He hoped that none of that information was out of date. Nobody really had any way of reaching him when schedules changed, but Lady Nihachu seemed to be reliable for these things. From what he understood, she was one of the only nobles who Technoblade didn’t actively disdain (a high praise for the nicknamed the Blood God). She was called upon for advisory duties and preemptively sent Phil to collect a few things as a self-gift to help with the stress.
It was hard not to think too deeply about what that spelled for the nation.
After rifling through his shulker, they seemed to find nothing of imminent threat to their ruler. After this long Phil figured people only stopped him so that they could see whatever it was he had been tasked to collect.
It was mostly perfume extracted from roses only grown in the most desolate regions of Twobee. On top of that, there were gloves made from phantom membranes so fine they felt like nothing to wear, artisan toys for her felines (they only liked the ones with catnip from Kinoko), a set of fine paints from Hermitville, and most peculiarly, an old book of heroes and legends from “the oldest looking place you can manage” which happened to be an ancient city. That last one was gonna cost a pretty penny.
The long axes held by each brute raised, unblocking the back entry to the castle, “You may pass.”
“Thank you, gentlemen!”
Now, this is where his freak privileges really kicked in. Usually, when someone important got something expensive, they would send their mousy assistant down and pick it up for them. Sometimes that happened, but most of the time? Phil himself was regrettably part of the experience. Coming across his particular breed of hybrid was rare, even rarer for someone with wings his size. No, they needed the strange bird fellow to come in and regale them with tales of how he got their fancy knickknacks.
It was beyond fighting at this point… and Phil really didn’t mind bragging.
“Philza Minecraft?” asked a nervous-looking maid, fiddling with the ruffled hem of her apron. Her uniform was more, well, frilly than the other servants he’d seen going to and from the back entrance. The pink ribbon accents were a dead giveaway for Lady Nihachu’s entourage.
Phil mustered a non-threatening smile, holding his box from the bottom to distract from his talons, “Yeah, is this a good time?”
“She’s in a meeting right now, but she’ll be ecstatic to know you’ve arrived,” the maid explained, making a beckoning motion, “Follow me, and you can wait for her in the northeastern drawing room.”
The castle of the Antarctic Empire was better equated to a village than a single dwelling. The guards, the servants, the chefs, the gardeners, physicians, their families, you name it and the Emperor had them on payroll. All of that had to fit inside a colossal building that seemed to eternally grow as the Empire amassed wealth. Every small country crushed was another gleaming addition to the home of the Emperor. It was the great mothership of their entire nation, and it damn looked like it.
As they walked, Phil was once again reminded of what one could do exactly with enough labour and resources. The result was a wash of open spaces, high ceilings, hand-carved columns, stained glass, grand staircases, and velvet curtains. More often than not, you could look at any section of the castle’s interior masonry and see veins of sparkling gold peeking through the rock. Even without the Emperor’s spanning and infamous reputation, anyone could find out that this place had a touch of piglin.
“Stay here.”
And the maid was gone, footsteps retreating down the hall until they were indistinguishable from the regular bustle of the castle.
The room they stepped into was no different. Ornate windows towards the back drew in the sunlight, exposing just how elevated they were with a breathtaking view of the mountain. At least the furniture encouraged you to actively interact with the room instead of admiring it as art. And yet, he didn’t have the nerve to sit on the baroque upholstery for fear of leaving a feather or two behind. He just deposited his box on the small marble table and stood near the window.
Phil had money, alright? More than most people. His robes were nice and tailor-made for him and his wings, his jewelry was golden, and, small as they were, Phil had a nice perch hidden away in uninhabited lands to hold his things. That shit wasn’t quantifiable here. Not even close.
When Phil heard the spruce door behind him open, he was already halfway into a bow by the time he turned around. It was for this reason he didn’t see her guest.
“Lady Nihachu,” he greeted, raising his eyes to meet hers and-
Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh piss.
Well, at least he was half right. Lady Nihachu stood before him, dressed in one of her usual fine black gowns with a happy expression. It was only when Phil saw over her shoulder did he realize the magnitude of this visit. Looking back at him was a man who needed no introduction, mainly because he was on every painting and tapestry in the castle. The fine owner of this estate, the mountain, the city below it, the nation it comes from-
Holy fuck that was Emperor fucking Technoblade.
Dropping into a genuflect, Phil willed his feathers to stay composed, “Your Majesty.”
Even a glimpse of him put Phil on guard.
As much as he’d believed the whole ‘blood red eyes’ thing, Phil had more or less equated it to fear-mongering- but no, that was actually the colour, no exaggeration needed. The golden crown on his head was encrusted with the coveted jewels of many fallen nations. His hair, pink and straight, fell neatly around his chest and shoulders. Hybrid traits were also embellished, with a collection of earrings dangling from his pointed ears and two golden rings to accentuate the tusks protruding from his mouth. Once he’d taken a knee, all Phil could see was his boot. Black and polished and fucking terrifying.
“You may rise,” he said, disinterestedly. The Emperor’s voice was a rumbling drawl.
Even after he stood, Phil thought to avoid eye contact. It was crazy how fast he turned into one of those mousey servants.
Lady Nihachu laughed to break some of the obvious tension, “This is the Elytrian man I was telling you about. It’s good to see you again.”
He forced a smile back, willing himself into some form of normalcy, “And you as well,” Phil dared himself to look back at the piglin in the room, “Philza Minecraft, at your service. Will Your Highness be joining us today?”
“I’ve made the time,” he shrugged, eyes lingering on Phil’s wings, “but try to be brief.”
He managed a nod, subconsciously adjusting his posture to flair the feathers ever so slightly, “Of course, Your Majesty.”
The box in the middle of the room thankfully became their focus as Lady Nihachu opened the shulker, letting the top half spin open and float in place, “You got everything!” she pulled out the contents, spreading them across the broad cushion of a fainting chair so she could survey the haul.
“I’m a man of my word.”
Taking a handkerchief, Lady Nihachu sprayed a small amount of the fragrance onto the fine silk, “I was almost out of this stuff. Techno, come over here and smell this.”
The Emperor didn’t move, “I can smell it just fine.”
Gossip wasn’t exactly rampant in such a strict environment, but even in safe speaking people knew better than to assume any romance between the Emperor and Lady Nihachu. For one, she was already lovingly betrothed to Duke Puffy, a relationship that citizens saw in high regards. And two, the Blood God and Nemisis only met up when very, very bad things were about to happen. Which was often enough in the Antarctic Empire, but still. They appeared to be good friends, not needing any other form of relationship to ally their nations.
“Phil, can you tell me again why the roses in Twobee smell better?” She looked back to the Emperor, “I think you’ll be interested in this one.”
Finally, something he was good at. “Natural selection works pretty hard in such a hostile environment for life. Flowers have to reproduce as fast as possible before the next extinction level event, and there’s not a lot of pollinators around with how patchy any sort of fertile land is,” Phil simplified, thinking back to how Fit of Twobee had described it to him, “The roses have to work really hard to get noticed. Which means their scent is more unique and a bit stronger.”
“I’ll have to conquer them someday.”
Lady Nihachu scoffed at him with a grin, “Techno!”
“Jokin’...” he made eye contact with Phil, “mostly.”
Could’ve fooled him.
The rest of the collection needed less explaining. Once people were really up there with their wealth they could afford to buy their items from places that specialized in that specific thing. You’d never know it in the working class, but maybe the most beautiful lantern you’ve ever seen is only made in the subterranean cities of Pogtopia. It was simply a matter of drawing connections from the environment to the people who made them.
“The inhabitants of Skyblockle use everything they can get their hands on. No one else thought a phantom membrane was worth the hassle to work with, but all they see is an infinite resource they can afford to export if they put in the effort,” he smiled, passing the gloves back to Lady Nihachu.
She took them, glancing down at the last item in the pile, “And the book?”
“That would be from the fine sculky caverns of the deep dark,” Phil grinned, enjoying the near-instant shock that spread across her face. Even the Emperor seemed to raise his eyebrows slightly in response.
Reaching down, the Emperor himself took the book into his hands, taking note of its worn cover and yellowed pages. “And you can validate this claim… how?”
Proof was a concept he ran into a lot in his line of work. In most cases, the product itself would fit the bill through quality alone, but Phil supposed it was hard to have someone come across enough relics from down there to be an expert in them (though, no doubt they existed). Sure, the cold fear in the pit of his stomach during the lovely experience of being in the depths of the earth trying not to awaken an ancient monster felt real enough to him… but he digressed.
Phil pulled an echo shard from his pocket, taken from the same old chest that he found the book in. The object was small and crystalline in nature compared to the soft, almost mossy texture that skulk usually had. This was different. He tapped a glossy black talon against it and the echoing ting that it was known for rang audibly to anyone in the room.
“My industry makes no room for liars, Your Highness,” he kept his tone firm, but still minded the whole respect thing. It was important not to forget how easy it was to commit treason here.
“No offence, but how do you not…” the Emperor trailed off, seemingly deciding against any form of eloquence, “die?”
It was so abrupt to Phil that he couldn’t catch his laughter in time, “That’s- That’s really ninety percent of my job, ma- Your Majesty. I’m fairly adept at it.”
Prime, when he looked up, Phil was genuinely afraid he might see the unimpressed face most noble types got when you, well, laughed at them. Instead, Lady Nihachu only chuckled softly and the Emperor himself had the smallest quirk to his lips. Not quite a smile, not quite not one, either.
But the purpose of this meeting had already come to an end. And in Phil’s opinion, he’d come too close to speaking casually with the Emperor to trust himself in a conversation any longer. When the majority of his social interactions were chatting shit with working-class people it was in his nature to treat everyone like a friend. Phil never had to polish up his diction and lose the sailor’s mouth. He liked it that way.
“Well, I think that’s everything. Any other orders to place?”
Lady Nihachu shook her head, but Emperor Technoblade regarded him curiously, “I’m always lookin’ for more interesting things made out of gold. Any places that come to mind?”
Fuck.
Phil offered him a tight smile, “Many. But I’m afraid that’s more liability than I’m comfortable bringing on the road.”
Now ideally, Phil would let people down easy before he gloated about how unkillable he was. Whatever. He’d rather the Emperor think he was a coward than have to bring up the much more uncomfortable topic of instincts. Bright shiny objects were always a hassle to give away and if he’d avoided doing it professionally for this long, he was in no mood to start.
Something in the Emperor's eyes wasn’t quite convinced, but Phil supposed he had more communication with liars than most, “I see. You’re free to take your leave.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. Lady Nihachu.”
With a full pouch and one final bow, he left.
—
Phil didn’t dwell on the small interaction for very long. A busy life meant that he could afford not to dwell on anything at all. He was always moving. One more barter for fine silk meant he didn’t have to think about the harsh truth that he had no roots or community to go back to. The nest was nice, really, but a small dwelling on top of a ludicrously elevated pillar of rock didn’t constitute any sense of belonging. The inaccessible nature made sure no thieves could take his shit in the months between brief visits. He really was just a drifter of better financial standing when you looked at it fundamentally.
It only took so long until Phil inevitably wound back up in the Empire.
The heart of it, that is. These days the borders were expanding so quickly that Phil found AE colours hanging in countries that had been separate for as long as he’d known them. It was utterly ruthless, but at least they spared the carnage for any nation who surrendered willingly. He ran into a soldier stationed at an Antarctic garrison who passed along a message that a few generals over there were looking for him.
And where work called, he followed.
“More fire spice? Mate, I don’t know how you can even stomach that,” Phil laughed, sitting beside a man he only knew as Steve, but was also one of the most feared generals in the nation.
He liked Steve. The man had a good head on his shoulders and seemed pretty down to earth overall. He paid well, too. It also helped that he preferred to meet Phil in a tavern for business. He’d go up, and call Steve down from wherever he was in the castle and the two of them would walk back into town. They talked for a while to hash out his delivery list, but Phil was ready to admit they might have taken a few drinks here and there.
“It keeps me warm,” he shrugged, nursing his ale out of a wooden tankard.
The door to the tavern opened, letting in the faintest breeze of icy wind to draw attention to the newcomer. Phil barely spared them a glance, but Steve seemed to recognize the Enderian hybrid as he approached. That was another thing about the Empire. They had far less qualms about people of dubiously human decent.
Steve rumbled out a laugh, “Ed? I didn’t know you came to this place. Come join us and take a seat. I can introduce you to the adventurer, over here”
Ed, (possibly short for Edward?) appeared generally hesitant about the idea. “I’m well aware of him, actually,” he looked at Phil, no higher than his chest to prevent eye contact, “The Emperor has sent for you.”
Oh.
Whether or not that was a good thing really was subjective. It was always best to remain in a state of neutral caution for these situations. They must have passed along word somehow when Phil went to the castle, so it wasn’t crazy for them to know his location. Hell, the fact that they sent a lanky enderian to go get him instead of a brute meant they probably didn’t have bad intentions.
Probably.
“Well, duty calls,” Phil sighed, dropping down a few coins onto the rough spruce bartop to cover his tab while he gave Steve an apologetic look.
Steve exchanged it for a nod, “See you in a while, then.”
A final wave and a smile was all the stalling he could allow before Phil followed Ed back out onto the bustling street. Usually, he didn’t bother with the uphill walk when Phil could always just fly to the gate, but ditching his company was poor manners… and he wasn’t in any particular rush to see Emperor Technoblade either.
While they walked, Phil could feel many sets of eyes on him. It was the wings, definitely. Being out in the cold meant they had fluffed up quite a bit, making his less-than-subtle silhouette even more noticeable. The feathers caught the light and took on an iridescent shift in hues that betrayed his corvid lineage to any observer savvy enough to catch it.
Instead of being brought in through one of the many servant's entrances, Ed had no issue waving aside the burly guards and taking Phil through the big doors. Those fuckers didn’t open for people like him… at least not usually. A few sparkling corridors later he was clued into the fact that they weren’t just taking him to some random drawing room this time, no, this path was far too linear.
Phil fixed his posture.
You couldn’t simply go to the throneroom of all motherfucking thronerooms without knowing it. Just before you reached the main space, there was an entire fucking hall of oil portraits. In each one, Emperor Technoblade was seated on a different throne with a new crown on his head. One for each new border expansion, Phil guessed. Sometimes the thrones were quaint, with a simple golden hoop over his pink locks, and others were beautiful encrusted things, both the chairs and headpieces, with so much cultural significance Phil instantly knew what country it used to belong to.
Stepping into the belly of the beast, Phil was met with the most impressive of them all. The room itself was fucking massive, housing a whole grand staircase that lead to the man himself. Backlit by goliath windows that could have been ripped from some gothic cathedral, the Emperor’s throne looked like it was something out of the myth of King Midas. The back panel was so fanciful in its ornate moulding that it stretched upwards to the domed ceiling, coming two-thirds of the way to touching it. There was just so much– Gold. It was mind blowing.
And Emperor Technoblade sat in the middle of it all, commanding more attention than any bright metal could manage.
“Your Majesty,” Phil said, taking a knee.
He could hear the soft clink of earrings knocking together as the Emperor looked down on him, “You may rise. Have you reconsidered what we spoke of last time we met?”
Bollox.
The basic ‘no-shiny’ rule he worked with wasn’t just him trying to be difficult. Hell, not even greedy. When Phil’s instincts were in a twist, it genuinely fucked with his head. Something like that just wasn’t excusable in a world where he needed a hundred and ten percent of his mental capacity to focus on not being murdered twenty clicks deep into the untamed wilderness. If all he could think about was how he could get the gold back to his nest and far away from the people who wanted it, no one was gonna be happy.
“I mean you no disrespect, but what you’re asking of me is outside my depth,” Phil tried to blunt the bad news, “My sincerest apologies for any disappointment.”
“Then I’ll pay you double for your inconvenience. Make it your depth.”
Pressing his lips into a firm line, Phil considered his options. At this point, it didn’t even matter that he lied about why he didn’t want to transport precious metals. No wasn’t an acceptable answer here. This was a command from the Emperor of the Antarctic Empire and not one he could refuse so easily if he wanted to continue his work in this country. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Phil suppressed a sigh, “If it is demanded of me, Your Majesty. Was there any specific goldsmith you had in mind?”
Emperor Technoblade tilted his head in a contemplative thought that was far too smug to be completely genuine, “Travel to the best you know and surprise me.”
Lovely. So now he was responsible for both the customer’s satisfaction and budget without a single parameter to go off of.
“When am I expected to return?” Phil asked, mentally gathering a list of places he could consider ‘the best’ .
“I was under the impression that you were known for your efficiency.”
Fine by him. When you looked past the general pompousness the sentence was delivered with, he could use it to his benefit. There were only so many places that Phil could go to and back within a reasonable amount of weeks. It was more convenient for both parties if he stayed within the hemisphere.
“Of course. I will return this time next month.”
And not a moment fucking sooner than he had to.