The crafter startled from her torpor and began to drag her antennae through her elbows to clean them, still rather groggy. Ever since she’d evolved to tier four, her rest just hadn’t been the same. Antennae clean, she began to pick over herself in the way that only insects would recognise. A fastidious need for cleanliness was born into all the ants of the colony, and it never left them, no matter how intelligent they’d become.
Her first task of the day complete, she stretched all six of her legs and, slowly at first, began to crawl out of the chamber she shared with her sixty-two roommates. At least this time, she hadn’t had to sleep whilst clinging to the roof. That was always a less restful torpor.
Entering the tunnels, she felt the ever-present messages of the colony waft into her antennae. “Go this way for such and such,” or “go that way for things and stuff.” None of it was relevant to her, yet it always helped invigorate her. She felt immediately connected to the larger organism, the super-organism that was the colony itself. Her chamber wasn’t far from where she performed her work, and she was eager to return to it. She made good time through the tunnels, the twists and turns as familiar as her own legs.
One more left turn and she was in her element. The temperature rose with each step and the ringing clang of metal impacting metal filled the air. Every chamber she passed was part of the great machine the colony had built within its nest. A powerful production line that took raw ore at one end, processed it, refined it, blasted it in a crucible and produced ingots of strong metal at the other end.
She herself had been part of developing that project, the frustrating days of experimentation, of trial and error as the detail-obsessed carvers iterated on what they’d learned from the humans, always seeking to improve by even a fraction of a percent. She was aware that those tests still continued elsewhere in the nest. Waste was inefficient and inefficiency was not something the colony was prepared to tolerate. Thus, they strove to improve their processes. Every ingot that formed with impurities was an indictment on the entire carver caste, an insult that burned inside their carapaces and drove them to do better.
But she’d long graduated from that more menial labour. Her Skills at handling the refined metals had grown at a prodigious rate, such that she had been given a new task. Entrusted with the finished product of the long refinement process, her new task was the final and most important of alclass="underline" smithing.
She eagerly leapt inside her own chamber, ready to begin. A fresh stockpile of ingots lay waiting, delivered as she rested, as they always were. Now brimming with energy, she rushed to her station and prepared it for work. Enchantments were activated, the fire primed, the air circulation hummed to life, and the quenching stations were meticulously examined for faults. As she busied herself, she was interrupted by a somewhat unwelcome visitor.
“The materials consumed by your project are becoming a drain,” the message wafted around the chamber, disturbed by the airflow that was necessary for the ants to work in such hot environments.
With a sigh, the crafter turned to the entrance and came face to face with what humans would consider a boss or supervisor. Such roles didn’t really exist within the colony. Each ant was given responsibility that best suited their abilities and inclinations. This particular carver had a talent for organisation and an excoriating eye for detail. Giving her responsibility for managing the resources of the foundry made perfect sense.
“My Skills continue to improve day by day,” the crafter defended herself. “I’m confident that the next rank up will be crucial in unlocking the techniques I need to complete the work.”
“How many Levels is your Blacksmithing Skill from its next rank up?”
“Three.”
The newly arrived crafter’s antennae twitched as she envisioned the number of raw materials required to provide enough metal for those three Levels.
“I know I don’t need to remind you, there isn’t much enthusiasm for your project within the caste. Some have even begun to suggest you are being selfish by pursuing such an unneeded piece of equipment.”
“Selfish…”
That stung. To learn that her own caste, her own contemporaries would say such a thing about her… Did they really have so little faith in her abilities? Nameless she may be, but it was no conceit to say she possessed the highest Blacksmithing Skill in the colony, at Expert Blacksmithing Level 17, rank 3, so close to the fourth rank. She’d been working with metal longer than almost any other ant. Did they really think she would be pushing ahead with a project such as this if she wasn’t firm in her resolve?
She shook her antennae. It mattered not. Only results mattered.
“I have utmost belief that I will produce results. All that is needed is time.”
The other crafter nodded.
“I will give you as much time as I can. Though you burn through ingots like none other in the colony, it’s also true that you Level up faster than anyone else. Hard to think that you’d be in the wrong.”
“I… thank you.”
Without another word, the ant departed, leaving the crafter to her own devices. Unwilling to waste any time, she began to renew her preparations. Her mandibles and legs were busy, but her mind was focused on something different. Ever since she’d been introduced to the concept, she couldn’t help but be captivated by it.
The idea of an ant, bedecked in armour, a steel insect juggernaut, had possessed her. Should she succeed in creating it, an all-new type of soldier would be born, one with an entirely different sort of strength!
Her heart ablaze with passion, the ant grasped hold of the first ingot in her mandibles and put it to the fire. Her last prototype had failed, but she’d learned much, and her Skills had grown. Perhaps this time, she would break through.
51. The Great Working, Part 2
The crafters of the Colony were an interesting and formidable bunch, to be sure. The first time I worked with them was when I heard they were willing to provide certain materials, namely processed Mana-infused woods, at near cost. Being an engraver and enchanter, such a ridiculous drop in price was far too tempting to give up, even if it meant dealing with an occupying force of monsters. If my competitors were to take advantage of this new supplier and I didn’t, they could price me out of the market instantly!
In many respects, I didn’t have a choice, and I’m a little ashamed to say, I wasn’t pleased at being forced to deal with the ‘monsters’ at the time. I saw this move on their part as a way of forcing the city to become reliant on their help. Since the gates were closed and Dungeon delving banned, we didn’t have anywhere else to go but to rely on an ever-dwindling stockpile anyway.
So, steaming on the inside, I swallowed my pride and took part in a trade mission. The ants and their human associates were extremely accommodating, which did little to dull my distrust, and led the group of similarly disgruntled merchants and crafters to the closest nest. Our safety was impeccably managed. Not once in my life had I experienced such a peaceful journey through the Dungeon. What was more surprising, was that the ants and their associates were more than happy to speak on the nature of this trade agreement, and their honesty was almost disturbing to a long-time businessman such as myself.
They were open about the reason for the low price they demanded for their goods. They simply had little need of money and were harvesting the materials at a rate faster than they could consume them. When I pointed out that they were processing the raw materials themselves, couldn’t they then go ahead and complete the final product, they admitted that the number of ants in the colony dedicated to creating such things was limited. They didn’t see a need for wands, couldn’t operate bows in the classical sense, were insulted by the idea of a stave, and used stone for almost all their furniture.