“Is this the crafter? How wonderful! Well done, sibling, we’re very proud of you! The very first in the colony to unlock these new Skills, a truly meaningful contribution.”
“New Skill unlocks as well! We’ll have to go through your status in detail to ensure we can pinpoint the conditions. We have a lot of work to do!”
The crafter sighed as the Brood Tenders fussed over her as if she were a new hatchling. It was only natural that the Tenders took responsibility within the colony for studying and documenting the System, since they were the ones most involved in teaching it, but their mothering nature slowed the process significantly.
It was several hours later before the crafter, near her limits, was finally able to return to her workshop, exhausted, but brimming with excitement. She threw herself into her work, determined to unravel the secrets of her new Skills and push them into the next tier.
For three whole days, she forged without rest, her fire burned unending, and the ring of clanging metal sounded again and again as she worked in a fever. Her mad spree was only brought to an end when a team of five workers forced their way into her workshop—she’d barred the door—and dragged her away as she cackled with mad delirium.
After a full day of observed rest, during which she was restrained by an earth mage, the crafter was allowed to return to her workshop to inspect the fruits of her labours. The last day was little more than a blur in her memory, so she was quite surprised to see the sheer volume of different patterns and pieces she’d produced. Her two new Skills had even made it to the second rank! Something was beginning to synthesise in her mind, and she couldn’t wait to get started.
Except there was something standing in her way.
“You’re running out of time,” the supervisor told her.
“What?” the crafter was shocked. “I’m closer than I’ve ever been before!”
“And the number of resources you’re consuming has increased, with nothing to show for it.”
With a flick of her mandibles, the supervisor indicated the sheer amount of armour bits and pieces that littered the small workshop.
“It’s becoming harder and harder for me to source materials for you. If you want to continue this project, then you need something to show for it, and soon. The voices of those who are displeased by the waste are growing louder by the day. Inefficiency isn’t something the colony is willing to tolerate.”
“But how are we supposed to develop something new without experimentation and failure? How am I supposed to push my Skills forward without practice?”
It was generally accepted in the colony that to develop Skills and uncover new branches of knowledge, it was necessary to test, test, and test again. Hundreds of ants had been committed to sub-optimal Skill and mutation builds in an attempt to unearth new fusions or combinations. Yet they accused her of waste!
“Your case is somewhat unique,” the organiser told her. “Because the products you produce in your practice have no value to the colony, yet to mine and refine the metal you use costs a huge investment of energy. Furthermore, many are convinced that what you are ultimately trying to make is something with fundamentally no value. I’ve heard several say the most talented Blacksmith in the colony is wasting her talent. Only results will still their voices.”
With that stark warning, she left the crafter alone to consider her path. In the mind of the crafter, there was pressure, concern, and not a little anger at the short-sightedness of her fellow crafters, but not a single iota of doubt. She knew, KNEW, that what she sought to build was close to being within her grasp. The ant-armour would be realised! She would forge it right here, with her own mandibles!
Burning with conviction, the crafter cleaned her workspace, and began to plan. As she lifted different pieces of armour, each forged with their own unique methods, an image began to take shape in her mind’s eye. A powerful soldier ant, covered in gleaming metal that thrummed with enchantments. An iron juggernaut of unstoppable might. The Steel Insect!
Yes! She could use moulded plates over a layer of mail for the head. And scale would be used in the joints and to cover the petiole. The abdomen plating would need to be flexible, of course, but also thick. The thickest plates would need to be around the thorax. She had to consider how it would attach to the carapace itself. Where to strap it? And how would the armour interact with the carapace? There had to be a way to maximise the benefit of both carapace and steel…
In her head, the full suit took shape as she considered processes, pieces, and techniques, discarding this one, modifying that one. And between the carapace and armour, an entire new layer emerged. One that would allow the armour to flex, yet be braced against the unyielding exo-skeleton beneath.
The more details she filled in, the more her understanding of enchantment played into the design. If she modified these materials, the enchantment effect would be stronger. If she connected this section to that, the magical effect wouldn’t be diluted by the incompatibility of the metals.
Eyes ablaze and antennae twitching with insane energy, she fired up the forge and shoved in a mandible-load of ingots. Today, she would complete a prototype that would prove the entire colony wrong!
53. The Great Working, Part 4
“I still don’t understand why I have to be the one to wear this,” Leeroy grumbled.
“You know exactly why,” Brendant was having none of her sibling’s nonsense. “We asked this crafter to make it to fit you, since you’re the one most in need of extra protection.”
Leeroy fidgeted and wiggled as the many, many different pieces of equipment were attached to her carapace by the fussy crafter, who constantly had to poke and prod the council member to get her to be still.
“Stop your fidgeting,” the crafter scolded. “The point of this armour is to keep you alive.”
“That’s why I don’t like it,” the soldier muttered.
“What was that, Leeroy?” Brendant demanded.
“Nothing! Nothing at all.”
“You’ve been warned many times to adjust your attitude,” Brendant told her wearily. “You aren’t a hatchling anymore, stop acting like it. It’s your responsibility to fight, yes, but also to do everything you can to preserve the investment the colony has made in you. Do you think everyone is given complete core evolutions like you? Does every ant in our family receive the personal education of the eldest? You need to stop being so selfish.”
Leeroy endured this lecture in dignified silence, she’d heard the same thing many times before. At times, she wondered if she was just built fundamentally different compared to the rest of her siblings. She just couldn’t see things the same way they did. But the eldest had spoken, and everyone appeared to accept their word. All Leeroy could do was continue to secretly plot and plan her own glorious contribution to the greatness of the colony. Something that this new armour would actively seek to impede!
Already she hated it.
“There are five cores powering the enchantment matrix,” the crafter was saying. “Two of those are here and here,” she thwacked the metal with an antenna to indicate the locations, “which help to regulate the weight of the heavier plates.”
The crafter moved toward Leeroy’s head where she finished tightening the straps for the helmet as she continued explaining.
“The other three cores are concentrated toward the front of the armour. The metals here are infused with Earth Mana, and the cores help to enhance that stability and hardness. The idea is to give maximum protection to the vital areas, as well as preserve the mass and momentum advantage the armour gives.”