Chapter Text
“Xelqua, we’ve prepared your first task.”
A smaller Watcher turned his head toward the calm, direct voice that addressed him. One. That was what the Watcher wanted to be addressed as.
They continued, “This is very important, but you are the only one that is able to complete it.” He handed a folder to the smaller Watcher.
The text was small, but easy enough to read.
Task: Observe Hermitcraft
The name rang a bell in the smaller Watcher’s head. He’d heard that name somewhere before. A figure with a mustache and bright eyes appeared in his head. Odd.
You will join the world under the alias of “Grian”. A Player named Mumbo Jumbo will greet you, along with the Admin.
Mumbo. Suddenly Grian recalled his old friend. The man who was always covered in redstone dust and laugh joyously at his own, simple and sometimes stupid mistakes. Grian felt oddly lonely, but he couldn’t place why. It wasn’t attachment; it simply wasn’t allowed.
Grian focused back on the text in front of him. One still stood in front of him, waiting. Even though they wore a mask, Grian could feel their cold stare.
Due to our own coding, you will be going alone and we will contact you through your code via sleep. Be sure to sleep often.
The point of this mission is to see how well the server is taken care of. It is very hard for us to see, and we wouldn’t want to neglect a server that may need our help.
Report any important behavior and keep the Admin close. See if you can convince them to lower the server defenses to allow us to observe them. We only want to help.
The text ended simply with no further instruction.
Grian looked up as the older Watcher began to speak. “Do you understand your assignment?”
Grian nodded.
“Good. You will keep that folder with you, so you may write down anything of notability so you are able to report back to us in full detail. You will be sent off in a few hours. Gather anything you might need. We will get you more Player-like clothes.”
Before Grian could respond, the Watcher walked away. He watched them glide along the void-dark pathways. If Grian focused hard enough, he’d be able to see the outline of the halls, but it always gave him a headache. He preferred to stay in his own chamber anyway, letting the Watchers come to him if they needed anything. They didn't take kindly to him wandering around.
He would usually spend his time observing worlds he could find. He stepped back over to his Globe that sat on a small pile of blankets. He almost laughed. This was his only precious item, but he doubted that it was worth it to take to the Overworld. He let the Globe stay in it’s spot, instead pondering over the folder in his hands. There was a quill slotted into the crease and some other papers behind the initial instructions. He’d have to write small to save space.
He stared at the name he was given. Grian. The name felt comfortable and nice. He couldn’t place why. It was the same feeling he got when he recalled Mumbo Jumbo. It felt almost like home.
Grian shook the thoughts out of his head. No. His home was here, in the Deep End where there were only other Watchers. This was his home and it couldn’t be anywhere else.
Grian sighed. One would have a field day if they found out about the thoughts that would flood Grian’s mind when he was left alone to think. Deciding to not dwell on that thought any further, Grian gently grabbed his Globe. He held it gently and peered into the crystalline surface as worlds started to appear.
Most of them were single-player worlds housing those who wished to remain by themselves and have fun. He spotted the remains of a hardcore world. It’s life had faded long ago, but he could tell that it had thrived while it was lived in. He smiled as he moved on.
Another hardcore world, by the same. . . Grian didn’t want to call them a Player, they felt too powerful for that. He moved on before he thought about it any further. He drifted back to a world he often visited; a world that housed up to 40 people once a month. They all had fun, competing against each other in mini-games. There was a time that Grian longed to be a part of it, but that was years ago. Since then, he’s accepted his place as a Watcher. He’d never be able to participate and that was okay.
He was okay with that.
He wouldn’t trade anything with where he was now. He was a Watcher! He got to help struggling servers and help other servers develop. Sure, he hadn’t done any of that himself, but he’d heard One talk about it before. Apparently, that’s the type of server where they’d found him and brought him back. He couldn’t remember their reasoning for taking him in particular, but he was grateful because now he got to be the helping hand for others. Though, he’d never seen another Watcher recruit. He’d been the newest, younger, Watcher for many years now.
The sound of boots against the fragile pathways brought Grian out of his thoughts. Another Watcher, one he didn’t know the name of, held a bundle of clothes, with dark boots on top, in their arms as they approached. “Hello, Xelqua, I’ve brought your Player clothes. When you are dressed, you are to meet One in the courtyard.”
Grian took the clothes from the Watcher. They weren’t as tall as One, but they still towered above the shorter Watcher. Without another word, they walked away, taking flight from the open path.
Grian’s own wings twitched. He didn’t get to fly often, and he wasn’t the best, but the thrill of being in the air made the risk worth it. He looked down at the clothes and sat down on his little nest of pillows and blankets. He moved his Globe to the side, letting it go back to sleep.
He unfolded the Player clothes. A red sweater, simple black pants, and a short pair of boots. The sweater was soft and there were slits in the back for his wings to fit through. Without wasting any more time, Grian let his robes drop off his shoulders, leaving him in his dark tank-top and boxers. The chill of the void made him shiver.
Pulling on the pants was easy enough. They weren’t tight, but they were form-fitting. They were comfortable, though, so Grian didn’t mind. Pulling on the sweater was a bit harder, the slits in the back barely fitting his wings, but he managed. Easily enough he slipped on the boots. They didn't feel too much different from the boots he normally wore, but these were much plainer, lacking the symbol of a broken portal that was embroidered into the side of his normal boots.
Fluttering his wings and brushing out some of the feathers, Grian took a breath. The outfit brought him that same nostalgic feeling as his name and Mumbo. He felt like something was missing, but didn’t ponder the thought. If he wasted too much time, he might miss his chance to finally go somewhere. He liked it in the Deep End, the Watchers weren’t really that bad, but he was curious about the Overworld.
He’d had to have been up there before --Mumbo was a Player afterall-- but he couldn’t recall anything outside of interacting with the redstone covered man.
Grian stepped out onto the void-colored path, focusing on seeing the pathway to avoid an embarrassing stumble. Luckily, that pushed all thoughts of Mumbo, his Player clothes, and name out of his head. The journey was short, the courtyard just about the center pavilion. Once he reached the end of the path, he took flight, landing on the only splash of color in their entire realm.
One was stood next to a broken portal made of bedrock. It was the same design that decorated the masks they all wore, though Grian felt like he’d seen it somewhere else before.
“Xelqua,” One greeted. “A little late, but I’m sure that won’t be a repeated mistake.”
Grian shook his head.
“Good. Before we depart, I need to explain some rules of the Overworld.” One shuffled their wings before continuing. “You know how to act as a Player, and it’s very important that you follow that act. Under no circumstance can you reveal that you are a Watcher.”
That confused Grian. They were the good guys, right? Watchers were the ones that helped servers update and kept dying servers alive. Why should he have to hide that?
As if sensing his thoughts, the taller Watcher continued, “I know that you may be confused, but even though we give the Players gifts and help them thrive, there are some that spread rumors. Horrible, hateful rumors that paint us in an evil light. We don’t know if it’s like that in Hermitcraft, so to be safe, you must not tell anyone your origin.”
Grian nodded. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but he thought it best not to question it.
“Going along with that, you must remove your mask.”
Grian hesitated. Watchers never showed their faces. They remained anonymous. No one was allowed to know what their eyes looked like, not even among their own society.
“I know it is different, but it is necessary. If the Players see your mask, they’ll know what you are, and there’s no telling what they’ll do. We are not able to access that world, so we will not be able to save you.”
Shakily, Grian nodded. He reached up to his mask, hesitating on the smooth material before removing it. He felt the eyes along his wings and arms close. It was strange, not having the range of vision he had previously. Not to mention, it didn’t just feel like his eyes were closed. There wasn’t the strange feeling of feathers against his vision, he couldn’t feel them at all.
He blinked his normal eyes open. Eyes he couldn’t remember ever having to rely on. It made his head throb. He also realized how dark the Deep End really was. He could only see the green grass around the portal and the faint color of white that was One’s robes and feathers.
He looked down on that mask. An eye rested on the inside. It was closed and it didn’t look like a Player eye. Grian assumed that’s what allowed him to see.
One held their hand out toward Grian, though he could barely see it through the dark. “I’ll hold on to your mask until you return. It wouldn’t do any good to have it on you in case of anyone that may see it.”
Grian handed the mask to the Watcher. As unnatural as it was to be without it, he felt strangely comfortable in his own skin. He felt more real than ever before.
Taking a breath, Grian voiced a question that had been bothering him for a while. “If we can’t touch Hermitcraft, then how am I getting in?” His voice was rough from not having used it in most of his time here. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’d spoken. He was usually punished for each of those, so he flinched as soon as the question was finished.
One sighed in disappointment. “Were you told to speak?”
Grian shook his head. Avoiding looking at the mask that seemed to stare right through him.
“You are wrong, though. We”, One said, motioning to himself, “can’t touch Hermitcraft. You, on the other hand, can. We will be dropping you into one of Mumbo’s worlds that he often visits, so when he sees you, he can ask the Admin to allow you to enter. From there, the instructions are listed in your folder.”
Grian reached to his side, where he tucked the folder into the waist of his pants. Something about this felt devious and wrong, but he didn’t dwell on it as he stepped up to the portal.
After a moment, One spoke again. “You may enter. Good luck. We will be in contact soon.”
Grian nodded and stepped into the portal, holding his breath and closing his eyes.