It’s obvious monsters have run through here and destroyed this small settlement. The most unfortunate thing is the clear signs of struggle. A twisted pitchfork lies on the ground between two sturdy tables that had been braced against the door of the largest stone house. To one side is an old, rusted sword snapped in half. On closer inspection, the indentations of powerful teeth can be seen on the blade. A sign of where a creature had bitten the sword to pieces.
It’s horrible to imagine. A group of farmers, gathering together to try and hold off a swarm of creatures from the Dungeon. Something they didn’t know much about, something they would never have expected to see. How would they have felt during that final struggle?
Most chilling of all is the complete lack of any sign of the people who fought here. No remains for burial. No torn limbs. Not even a blood stain.
As if a monster would ever leave Biomass behind.
Crawling over the buildings, up the walls and over the shattered ceilings, hits me hard. This was what the refugees were fleeing. This was the fate of the thousands, tens of thousands, of people who hadn’t made it out. Perhaps they hadn’t heard in time or underestimated the danger. Perhaps they just didn’t believe it could happen.
Whatever the reason, it cost them dearly.
Against my will, horrible visions of returning to the nest, only to find it destroyed and despoiled, fill my mind. My siblings vanished, eaten by our hated foes. The queen, my mother in this life, left a lifeless shell in her royal chamber. All signs of the brood would be gone: no eggs, no fat, squiggly larvae, no future for my kind at all.
Terrible! Unforgivable! I would be heartbroken, filled with anguish and rage should such a thing come to pass.
Which is exactly why I’m avoiding Morrelia…
The leather clad berserker stomps around the site. Her tension rises with every sign of futile combat we uncover. Her fists clench and her neck muscles grow taut until I’m concerned her head will snap off from sheer pressure.
Even Tiny can see it, and despite his normal, fight-happy attitude, he doesn’t appear to want to draw the attention of the dark-haired warrior. I suspect he just doesn’t want to be a punching bag since he’s able to recognise that Morrelia is an ally and he wouldn’t be able to fight back.
Unable to restrain her anger any longer, Morrelia explodes with a guttural roar of fury and smashes one backhanded fist into a barn wall. The only sound is the echo of her rage as she stands, breathing deep, before the barn wall collapses, crashing into the ground and bringing the roof with it.
Nice punch…
After a few more moments to gather her thoughts, Morrelia starts looking about. I have a sinking feeling she’s looking for me. Sure enough, she manages to spot me in my totally obvious resting place behind the chimney of another building. After waving to indicate I should join her on the ground level, she taps one finger to her forehead, a frown creasing her face.
Not very patient, are you? Sorry if I can’t weave the mystical fibres of this world into a universal translating mind-joining bridge of sparkling complexity that would put a hundred spider webs to abject shame on your schedule!
The nice thing about having multiple minds, is that I can quite comfortably weave my spells whilst complaining internally. Plenty of spare brain power to go around.
[You ok over there?] is my tentative opening line.
My concern only serves to upgrade her frown into a glare.
[I’m. Fine. I want to move on. Find some monsters to kill.]
[Of course, we’d have to move to find those. Since there sure aren’t any of them here! Ha! Ha! Haaaa…]
Please don’t berserk and kill me, crazy lady.
Morrelia only snorts at my words. [Where are we going?]
[Well, I suppose we keep heading north, find the nearest town,] I say. [If we come across any fresh-looking monster tracks, we could follow them, try to track down any bands of wandering beasties. Are you good at tracking?]
I’m sure not.
[I’m a fair tracker,] Morrelia assures me. [Let’s get going. I don’t want to stick around here any longer.]
[Fair enough.]
Leaving the depressing ruined farm buildings behind, we continue on our scouting mission. Three monsters and one human berserker. Our steady pace eats away at the distance as we move farther away from our allies and deeper into unknown territory.
The ant trails are starting to go cold this far out from the colony, the scouts unwilling to travel this far from the nest. I can’t blame them. Morrelia seems to have an excellent idea of the lay of the land in what used to be southern Liria, so she guides us toward the closest town. Hopefully, what we find there isn’t the same as what we just left behind. Only on a larger scale.
44. Colony Building
Not long after the eldest departed the colony, Cobalt stood in the queen’s chamber watching the small Aphid Queen amble about under the watchful eye of her mother. Another ridiculous, unheard-of practise, brought to life with a seeming absence of effort at the hands of the first of their kind.
The eldest puzzled the Council of Twenty, as the first hatchlings of Formica Sapiens were beginning to think of themselves. Respect and deference were due to the eldest by the simple nature of seniority. Not to mention the conditioned fear that had been beaten into them over their whirlwind training.
Even so, the eldest puzzled them. So often engaged in thoughts and actions that seemed to have no place within an ant mind. Supposedly, the twenty were of the same species, but they would never have dreamed of engineering an entire breed of… cattle?
And yet, it was such an elegant solution to a problem they hadn’t even realised they had. A sustainable, constant source of Biomass which they could completely control. The colony would determine how many aphids were created, and the colony would deploy them as they wished. The only limiting factor was the available space within the Expanse.
It wouldn’t be a problem for long. Cobalt felt confident the colony would soon extend their grasp out to encompass farther Expanses. If those others included sufficient plant life for the aphids to feed on, then their population could be grown to allow the harvest to continue in those places.
Lost in her thoughts, Cobalt didn’t notice the young Aphid Queen approach him. With a start, she realised the small green insect was looking at him appealingly, its antennae waving to tap into her own.
“She’s hungry,” the queen’s voice sounded from above. Cobalt turned to see her looking down on her.
“Mother, it’s wonderful to see you so cheerful,” she said.
By a strange twist of the Dungeon, the queen was no longer the eldest of their kind, and thus technically no longer the leader of the colony, a position reserved for the eldest, who didn’t seem to want it, except when they did. Irrespective of this, the queen, as mother to all the members of the colony, received the devotion and adoration of every worker. To see her tending her new pet with such cheer brought joy to every ant who saw it.
“Thank you, child,” she said, warmth overflowing in her words. “I must admit, I quite enjoy having a pet of my own. Obviously, my children bring me the greatest happiness, but they must work for the colony and it can be some time between visits.”
It was true. Even the ants in the queen’s chamber were rotated on a regular basis in order for her to be always protected by rested and prepared ants.
“If you were to ask for them to visit you, then they would,” Cobalt pointed out.
The queen waved one antenna dismissively. “We must all do our work for the colony, child. I would never stand between a member of our family and their task.”