Once she opened the door, she was greeted by the warm and cheerful face of Terrence, her latest secretary. He’d been a scribe in the capital before the destruction, a skill he was now able to put to good use in the service of the survivors.
“How are you today, Ms. Mayor?” he asked politely.
“I’m fine,” she groused, “stop harassing me. You’re worse than a grandchild.”
The middle-aged man just smiled as he fell into step beside her.
“There are a few things that demand your attention today,” he said, “but I presume we are heading to the hospital first?”
“Of course.”
“Right you are, then, Mayor. Good thing I scheduled your appointment with the Rylleh merchants for the afternoon.”
Enid groaned.
“What do those crusty old bats want this time?”
“They have approached the Colony about the possibility of imposing copyright law. I understand there are quite a few enterprising merchants who are already prepared to lodge claims.”
“And the Colony, having no idea what on Pangera they were on about, asked for me to sort it out,” she grunted.
“That is most likely the case.”
“I assume they want to claim the copyright on basically everything under the sun, since the Colony’s legal system, such as it is, is detached from everyone else’s, thus nothing is currently protected intellectual property.”
“There has already been a claim laid on the wheel, Ms. Mayor.”
“Damn vultures,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes. “I suppose this is how they’re hoping to stop the ants from competing with them, by having the Colony agree that it would be illegal to do so.”
Terrence didn’t say anything in response, but they both knew she was right. Competing with the Colony was an exercise in futility, since they essentially had a limitless workforce that wasn’t paid for. This was hardly the first time Enid had been tasked with hammering out the details of trade between the Colony and the societies that lived around them, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. So far, the wily old trader had proven to be more than a match for the greedy merchants who’d seen her as an easy mark. Though having an army of thousands upon thousands of monsters backing her up didn’t hurt any.
When they arrived at the hospital that had been set aside for the non-insect members of the nest, Enid wasted no time in stepping forward to comfort the injured and sick. A kind word here, a held hand there, she lifted the spirits of her people with her mere presence, and seeing the gratitude on their faces, Terrence couldn’t help but feel his deep gratitude to this old woman strengthen. She worked so hard for them when, by all rights, she should be retired and resting in a comfortable chair.
“There are quite a few with mana sickness…” she fretted after she finished chatting with a soldier who lay infirm in his comfortable bed.
He nodded.
“The assault on the third stratum hit quite a few harder than was anticipated. We think the mana levels were still elevated since the end of the last wave, and the conditioning program wasn’t enough to make up the difference. Every non-monster has been evacuated from that stratum for the time being until the Colony is confident that those who wish to join them have sufficiently adapted.”
“They are pushing too hard.”
Terrence raised a brow.
“The Colony?”
“No,” Enid snapped, “our people! I have no doubt the Council didn’t even ask if people would participate in the assault. They would have just incorporated the ones that showed up! It takes time to adjust to the mana levels in the deeper layers. In some cases, a long time. Rushing is only going to get good people killed.”
“I feel some of our people want to follow the Colony wherever they go,” Terrence observed softly, “like a child toddling after a parent. They don’t want to be left behind.”
“They don’t have to be left behind, but they have to be patient. The ants are monsters, they don’t suffer from mana sickness, but we do! How many of our people have already become too adapted to the Dungeon? How many can no longer walk on the surface without pain?”
“Hundreds, at least.”
It was something her husband had struggled through many times, the pain that came with delving deep and then rising back up. If not for her, he would have lived deeper in the Dungeon and thus spared himself a great deal of suffering reacclimating to the low mana conditions of the surface whenever he finished a job. It was taxing and could have long-term effects. If he hadn’t been as tough as mountain bones, then he likely would never have been able to do it.
“Perhaps I should talk with the Colony about establishing a program to help people acclimate to differing mana levels. Make it easier for those who want to return to the surface…”
“I actually had word through a contact that they’ve already started work on that. They’ve created a few mana deprivation chambers close to the nest. They’ve peeled back the Dungeon veins and opened the rooms for our use. I meant to tell you yesterday.”
Enid could only shake her head.
“Damn ants,” she muttered, “they spoil us too much.”
14. Offense is Best
While the hatchling sleeps through her tier four evolution, the rest of us take a break to strategize a little with Granin and company before we rest. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget the others need a break a lot sooner than I do, at least whenever I’m within range of the Colony. There’s just something about never getting tired that seeps into your subconscious; before too long, you start thinking of fatigue as abnormal. While everyone else is getting some-shut eye, I keep my minds spinning, working hard on practicing new constructs and weaving spells. The grind train is on and it don’t stop for nobody!
If the demons think I’m going to rest on my laurels, they’ve got another thing coming.
Still, talking to Granin and the others provides a much more sober evaluation of where we sit in the power scales. Despite having risen so far, there is so long to go.
[That’s the way of it in the Dungeon,] the old Shaper shrugs. [Until you get all the way to the middle, there’s always going to be something stronger than you are. The only time you can really feel safe is when you’re the highest tier in a particular stratum and there isn’t a wave going on.]
[The way things have been lately, there’ll be another wave before too long,] I grump.
[That’s true,] Granin says. [There haven’t been two waves this close together in recorded history, and the ambient mana level is still elevated. Some of the more anxious members of the cult feared this might indicate the Cataclysm would come again. I wasn’t inclined to believe them then, but now I’m not so certain.]
[The Cataclysm? You mean the Rending?]
[Right. You’d probably describe it as ‘not a good time.’ Which sums it up. If we are indeed trending on that path, then the mana level will continue to rise higher and higher, building with wave after wave until the energy becomes so fierce that the Ancients will rise from the centre of the world and consume the surface once again.]
[That… sounds bad. Aren’t you supposed to worship these guys or something? Yet you think they’re going to come up here and eat all of us? What the heck is the point of that?!]
Wouldn’t it make more sense to be actively working against the Ancients rather than with them? Granin just shrugs whilst Torrina and Corun stand to the side, equally unfussed.
[First of all, we don’t really worship the Great Worm. The Ancients are close to gods in a lot of ways, beings capable of ripping the world apart if they so choose, but they are monsters. Our cult and the others around the world understand that the Ancients follow their nature. They seek growth, as all creatures in this world do. It’s not like we can be mad at them for taking experience and Biomass when they get the chance. If any delver had the chance to stab an Ancient through the brain while they slept, you think they wouldn’t take it?]