My expectations in this regard were borne out, though not in the manner I had foreseen.
Champion monsters aren’t exactly unknown to me, seeing as Vibrant is one. I spoke to Granin about it as a passing conversation piece, and given that he knows just about everything on the topic of monsters, he had plenty to say.
Generally rare, but especially so amongst communal monsters, champions are a distinct threat when encountered by delvers. Smarter, stronger, and capable of rallying other monsters around them, these creatures have apparently always been a known quantity in the Dungeon that were better left alone and avoided than confronted head on.
I have already experienced the joy of taking care of one ant champion, and I’m not particularly enamoured of the idea of taking care of a second.
[Whatever you do, make sure you don’t eat her, Invidia. Just, be careful, you know?]
[I sssshall. The young isss sssafe with me.]
[Good to know.]
The absolute mess that this larva caused went beyond the pale. Not even Vibrant was that much of a pain in the neck before hatching. To think this potential champion is already capable of this level of disaster causing… Only my finest and strictest training will be able to mitigate the catastrophes to come. Still, she hasn’t even gone into the pupal state yet… What exactly are we going to do with her when we’re supposed to be out fighting the wave?
Invidia will do his absolute best, I’m sure, but I don’t really expect him to fight whilst cradling a grub in his mouth. We need a more permanent solution…
As I ponder what to do with the little thing, I drift my thoughts down to the Vestibule and the flow of Will contained therein. The grub is also there, its barely conscious mind is providing energy to me, just as any other member of the Colony would. I can feel her thoughts, ever so softly, and only when I concentrate. There is immense curiosity there, as well as a burning impatience. I can tell she’s in a hurry to grow up and hatch, to join the workforce and take her place amongst her siblings.
It’s not time yet, little grub! You’ve got a bit of growing to do before you’re ready to do that! Having said such, may as well go and secure some food for her. The three of us wander off and find a creature spawning in the tunnels, which I put down with a quick chomp, and only then ask Invidia to release the little one so she can get fed.
The grub emerges almost tentatively from the nightmare zone that is the demon’s pocket dimension, wiggling onto the ground with obvious relief. They have little in the way of senses, the larvae, blind and with very little by way of smell, but I’m sure it wasn’t all that pleasant in there, which is nothing less than what she deserved after the panic she caused.
Smelling the food, she wiggles her way toward it with that strength and energy which reminds me so much of Vibrant as a larva.
Soon the sound of chomping and chewing rings throughout the tunnel, and I watch the little grub go at it, eating far more than one would think possible for a creature of her size. Even then, she tries to crawl away, nipping behind a rock and attempting to roll away from my clutches whilst I’m not paying attention. Sadly for her, I was well aware of her intentions the moment they formed in her little head.
Back into the mouth with you! You’ll learn eventually.
77. A Harmonious Cycle
The society of the Colony was alien to me at first, as one may well expect. The differences in origin between I, a surface born sapient of the Iron Sands, and the ants who made up the insect empire (as I like to call them. They dismiss the title and refer to themselves exclusively as ‘the Colony’ or ‘family’), are obvious at a glance, and so it was difficult for me to make heads or tails of their dealings for a goodly while.
An example would be the lack of a clear chain of command. An absurd amount of industry and labour is done inside the many nests of the Colony each and every day, but who decides which work is to be done? Who decides who does what work? Where are the decision makers and enforcers that ensure the necessary work is completed? It was to my shock that I learned no such roles exist. Imagine a warehouse with no roster, a mine with no foreman, or a ship with no captain. How could it possibly function? How would anything get done?
My mind rebelled against the feasibility of such an arrangement, certainly I had no parallels to draw within my sphere of experience. It was only from this point forward, that I truly began to understand the differences between our peoples.
The division of labour within the Colony is surprisingly democratic. The ants organise themselves into groups with similar Skills and capabilities, then decide what it is they’re going to do.
Central to this structure is the detailed information that is disseminated throughout the Colony of their activities. There are many ants tasked with simply collecting information as to what goes on within the territory. How much ore was smelted today? Will there be a shortfall? Is there a dearth of cores? Exactly how much Biomass has been gathered? All of this is known, collated, and spread throughout the workforce. If there is a shortage, teams of ants will go and fill it. If there is a surplus, they will find other things to do to not clog the pipeline.
When more complex tasks arise, research projects, large scale construction, a large shipment of goods to be transported and protected, a call is put out for capable family members to join the team, which they will do voluntarily. Once they feel they have enough ants for the job, they’ll get to work, feverishly and industriously racing to complete the task. When it’s finished, the team will either move onto another similar task or dissolve, the individuals joining other groups and finding more work to do.
It’s a system that only functions thanks to the unique nature of the ants.
They are without ego, always stepping aside if another more capable individual presents for the work, without greed, always prepared to sacrifice for the collective, and without sloth, for nothing is more absurd than a lazy ant.
I found it fascinating to observe in action, growing bewildered at the sheer speed they could assemble a specialised group, complete a task, then move to the next. If ever there was need, there were workers to meet said need. The pace of it all was enough to make my head spin, the incredible number of individuals involved, the density in which they lived with each other.
It was as if they collectively formed one organism. A giant, living and breathing creature formed of millions of parts, with one will and one vision.
It was beautiful.
Invidia and I fall into a regular pattern that sees us out crushing the wave for a while and then returning to feed the grub and trap it back into its inescapable cage. Some might say putting the larva into a prison carved from solid metal is inhumane, but she chewed her way through the rock, so we didn’t have much choice.
Luckily, if we force-feed her a ton of Biomass until she basically passes out from a food coma, then we get a good hour of stress-free fighting in before she becomes mobile again and the escape attempts commence.