Satrap Umizan, leader of the Brathian Island Conglomerate, turns out to be a festively plump chap, covered in jewellery and floating fabrics that sparkle with unearthly light. He's an impressive sight, that's for sure, but all the expensive accoutrements don't quite manage to distract me from the fact he's the only chubby brathian I've ever seen. Is it a point of pride or something? Only he can afford to get fat? A symbol of his status?
I want to ask. I really want to ask. I know I shouldn't, obviously, but the guy is right there in front of me. It's not like I can't look at him.
[The Satrap bids you welcome to his city. He hopes you find your stay to be commodious and well priced.]
[We're paying for this? You invited us!]
[It's a traditional greeting. Now he is speaking of our trade agreement. He hopes there will be a great deal of mutual profit for years to come, allowing both our peoples to prosper.]
[I can agree with him on that.]
At this point, the beaming Satrap claps his hands together and a host of servers emerge from behind pillars and seemingly from out of trapdoors. They come out of nowhere! Each of them bears some sort of dish or drink which they begin to dispense amongst the gathered dignitaries and officials. Beside me, Enid gratefully accepts something that kind of looks like some sort of fish on a cracker? But the cracker is wet? The brathian themselves seem fine to move in and out of our bubble, perfectly able to breathe within the water or the air.
It's a bit cramped for me, so I have to keep my legs tucked close to my body, but overall, I'm enjoying myself. It's interesting getting to meet new people.
To one side, Beyn is grandly gesturing, really starting to warm up his vocals in discussion with a bemused-looking brathian lady. Before he can really get going, I sidle over and prod him with an antenna, much to his conversation partner's shock.
[Relax a little,] I admonish him. [What are you going to tell them, 'The Great One is an amazing, divine creature?'. It's going to be a hard sell when I'm standing right here, my legs folded so I don't get my antennae wet.]
[YOURahem your grace is abundant to all who perceive you, Great One.]
[I think she's genuinely afraid of you,] I say, taking a look at the hapless court official or big shot trader, more likely. She does look quite unnerved. I resist the urge to reach out with a mind bridge and reassure her we aren't all as weird as the one-armed priest. I'm under instructions not to initiate connections with people.
It makes sense, when you think about it. A mind-bridge may be a wonderful tool of universal communication, but it's also a means of launching violent and disturbing mental warfare. Monsters as evolved as I am are typically more than a match for an individual, even a powerful one, or so I'm told. Anyone connecting to me runs the risk of me battering their mind in a one-sided beatdown.
I understand the caution, but it makes the whole thing a bit boring, since most of the people I know are engaged in conversation with new people.
That's when the Satrap swaggers over to me, a bevy of unhappy-looking mages in his wake.
How does he swagger while swimming? I honestly can't tell you. He just does.
There's some gesturing, some muttered protestations, some careless waving away of concerns, until finally a tentative link is formed with me.
[Hey there, how are things? Any chance I can get some food? I'm starving.]
The giant ant monster telling the mage they were hungry apparently wasn't the relaxing opening I thought it was.
[Uh food will be provided. I I am Olivis, the Dungeon Seer who serves the Satrap.]
[Nice to meet you. A Dungeon Seer, eh? We only got some of you types recently. Crazy what you can learn. Anyways, the Satrap is here. I suppose he wants a chat?]
[That's right although we have warned him against it. He is a unique and powerful man who we do not like to risk. I urge you to act with restraint when your mind is connected to his.]
I generously wave an antenna.
[Of course. You guys have shown us hospitality and friendship, so we'll do the same. Relax a little bit. Although, I'm serious about some food, everything is bite sized, for me. Any chance I can get something a little more substantial?]
Perhaps impatient with the delay, a new and powerful mind jumps onto the bridge.
[Come on, Olivis, you're taking forever! Hello there, big ant!]
[Anthony.]
[Of course. Anthony! Welcome to my city. I have to say, I'm excited to meet you, very excited!]
[Oh. Because of the rumours about my incredibly shiny carapace?]
[It is magnificent,] he says, eyes gleaming with avarice. [I could sell it for an absolute fortune. I'm not even sure what it's made of. Are you sure you don't have a spare?]
[I don't.]
And I'm not going to tell him what it's made of, either. A new, hitherto unheard of type of diamond? I don't want to know just how valuable I'd be, and finding out when surrounded by the greediest merchants on Pangera sounds like a bad idea.
[I'm impressed you came down, by the way,] the Satrap tells me warmly. [Most monsters who reach your level of intelligence and power tend to be risk averse. You don't age, can't die of disease or infection. So long as a monster continues to live, the path to infinite power remains open. Yet here you are, at the bottom of the Lake with a trillion litres of water bearing down on you.]
I don't think I'm being particularly brave. I've always believed the Colony needs to extend a leg in friendship if we want to get anyone to cooperate with us. There's also another reason I don't think I'm threatened here.
[I'm worth way more to you alive than I am dead,] I admit to the leader of the brathian. [If I die, millions of ants are going to find their way down here and you may even win that fight, but war is expensive. Very expensive. I get the impression you brathians don't fight all that much if you can avoid it.]
The Satrap grins broadly and claps me on my foreleg.
[It's been known to happen,] he says, [but as you say, rarely. And you're exactly right! The entire reason I reached my current lofty status is because I have a nose for money, and you, my large insectile friend, absolutely reek!]
[I get what you're saying, but that's a bit rude. We have an extremely delicate sense of smell, it's how we communicate.]
[I mean no offence, of course. This deal has tremendous potential. Tremendous! We are going to front significant capital to make this tour a success. Soon enough, the wealth is going to flow like a river. Not a measly river either, one with gusto!]
-x-X-x-
The brathian continue to be quite friendly and open with us, even allowing the carvers to peek into their workshops. The results of that visit were apparently a little humbling.
"They're way ahead of us," Smithant admitted freely.
She hasn't changed much since the last time I saw her, in terms of attitude at least. Focused, a bit grouchy, entirely obsessed with her craft. It's not always easy for me to tell, since I'm so much larger than every other ant, but I'm fairly confident she's evolved recently as well. There's a definite metallic sheen to her carapace and I'm not sure she always heated metal via her mandibles, or used her own carapace as an anvil. A nifty couple of additions, she doesn't even need a forge to work anymore. Case in point, she's busy testing some intricate wire thing, even as we talk.
"Is it uncomfortable having your legs bend backwards like that?"
The spot she uses to hammer on is just behind her head. Her eyes are mutated enough that she still gets a good view of it, though she sometimes needs to turn a little.
"They don't actually bend backwards, they rotate in the socket."
"Ah hmmm so is that uncomfortable?"
"No."
It sure looks weird.
"Sooo, we're a long way behind them?"
"Yes. I think they didn't care if we saw them at work, since we aren't at a point where we could comprehend their advanced techniques. Their use of mana during the forging process is far beyond what we are capable of. For example, I'm fairly sure one of the forges we saw was actively infusing water mana into the metal as it was being worked. I've never even thought of doing that, let alone have any idea how it would be achieved."
"I guess there's going to be a lot to do once we get back from this trip," I muse. "How long do you think it will take before we can match them?"
The grizzled carver cleans off her antennae as she ponders.
"A few years, I would say. For our smiths to really push their Skills into the higher ranks, we need to investigate more advanced techniques like these. Now that we have a clue, it should help us advance, albeit slowly at first."
There are other secrets they reveal to us as well.
[I thought I felt a big monster sitting around here somewhere.]
[I'm surprised you noticed. The Shulk are fairly private creatures. You'll forgive me if I don't take you down to speak with it.]
[Hey, a monster who enjoys a little privacy, I can respect it.]
It's not like I'll ever get privacy ever again. How far away from the Colony would I need to be in order to be alone in my own head? Even if I got there, Crinis would be latched onto my carapace, no question. I really hope I get back before she wakes up. I left a note in the event I didn't but I don't think it'll be enough to pacify her.
Marzban Corazan is apparently the brother of the Satrap and their lead fighty guy. I don't know his title. Unlike his pudgy, cheerful and fabulously wealthy brother, this guy is more jacked than a house of cards. If the Satrap is the fattest brathian I've ever seen, then Marzban is surely the most muscular. Wearing his shining, gold plated armour that positively gleams with the weight of enchantments it holds, he cuts quite the figure amongst the rest of the guards.
I mean, they're all tiny compared to me, but I'm trying to pay attention to the little people.
[So are all brathian settlements built around one of these guys?]
At the bottom of a large fissure that runs straight through the middle of the brathian settlement, the Shulk is a huge monster, tier seven at least, its core gleaming like a miniature sun. Part crab, part oyster, the thing has shells on its shells, and spends almost all of its time just chilling down there.
[Most of them,] Marzban informs me readily. [You would have felt the barrier you passed through when you entered our territory?]
I nod.
[That is a field projected by the Shulk. It keeps smaller monsters away, enriches mana, and reduces the burden of water pressure, allowing our settlements to thrive at greater depths than we would normally be able to live comfortably. In exchange, we provide for the monster's needs. We feed it, keep it informed and entertained, and help to propagate their species. After all, more Shulk surviving to maturity means more places we can live.]
Huh.
[So this is a mutual agreement? These Shulk are intelligent monsters?]
[Oh, they are extremely intelligent. For monsters, they are relatively weak, especially through the early tiers, so it usually takes them a long time to become strong enough to settle down. This Shulk is over a thousand years old, and has seen much in its time.]
Deep below, the crab front-part of the monster rotates an eye-stalk to look up at me, so I wave an antenna in greeting, only for the creature to blow a few bubbles and go back to minding its own business.
I get the picture, I'll get off your lawn. Sheesh.
After a bit over a day, everything is prepared and a grand procession prepares to exit the brathian city. Along for the ride are many of the dignitaries from the Island Conglomerate, including Marzban and Eran, the Satrap's wife. Apparently, his daughter is also along for the ride, which seems odd. It's fine, I suppose.
We rise to the surface on our platform of air, the bubble finally breaching the surface as the water runs down the side. Ah the fresh, open air of the fourth stratum once more. A surprisingly large fleet of sleek ships greets us atop the tranquil waters of the Lake. It takes a little while, but we manage to pack all of the ants, all our goods, along with the brathian contingent aboard, and then we are on our way.
Mages conjure winds to fill the sails, and shift the waters along the sides of the boats, speeding us across the lake.
[We're going to head to Lakespire first,] Marzban informs me. [It's a gathering of various Conglomerates. Think of it as a more-or-less permanent market the size of a city. If we can get other brathians to pick up the goods, they'll be able to reach markets further away that our conglomerate doesn't reach.]
[Sounds good.]
-x-X-x-
I've got a ship to myself, pretty much. A wide, flat-topped barge with enough room for me to lie down and stretch my legs, allowing the fresh, watery breeze kicking off the surface of the lake to run through my antennae and over my carapace. It's not a bad life.
Flatteringly, they've plopped me in the middle of the fleet, surrounded on all sides by the majestic vessels of the Island Conglomerate. There are worse ways to travel, I guess is what I'm saying.
I did offer to fly myself there with gravity magic, but my fellow ants decided we should just accept the hospitality of our trading partners and do things their way. Fine by me, I suppose. It's just a shame they miss out on such a wondrous sight as the great flying Anthony!
"How are you, Eldest?"
Every now and again, other ants are brought aboard to catch up with me. Thankfully, the brathian haven't allowed the more enthusiastic humans travelling with us to board my ship. I can still hear them from where I am, shouting and praising away on another boat further back while I flop about on mine.
Today, Cobalt has popped over and I'm glad for the company of the little ant. Not having my three closest friends and closest companions around has left me feeling lonelier than I'd expected.
"I'm fine, Cobalt. Just watching the world go by."
It really is something. I haven't been in the fourth stratum long enough to get a good look at everything, but it's like the place was designed for eye-candy. Everywhere you look, there are stunning views. Even with near three-sixty degree vision and thousands of lenses, I'm still not able to drink it all in.
The waters of the Lake are bright, almost crystalline, filled to the brim with life and water mana. A whole ecosystem of monsters live down there, fish, sharks, squids, giant fish, giant sharks, giant squids. Every once in a while, something breaks the surface, showering the surrounds in drops of water that shine like jewels.
Beyond that are the mountains. Rising from well below the water line, they tower up into the sky beyond the level I can see, meeting the bottom of the third stratum somewhere kilometres overhead, obscured by mist and cloud. Each one is an absolute titan, and whenever we pass close enough by one, they are absolutely bursting with life. Monsters, plants, plant monsters, oversized and filled with vigour, they shake the ground with their steps as we drift by, spectators to the struggle.
"I never really expected to see so many settlements. It's kind of weird to see people just hanging around," I say.
"They aren't really 'hanging', are they, Eldest?" Cobalt asks, confused. "They're just walking right?"
"Yes," I sigh, wishing I could roll my eyes. So particular. "I was just pointing out that we didn't see anything like this around our mountain."
The further we travel, the more commonly we see 'civilization', as some would put it. Walled settlements, large cities, inhabited mountains. I think we saw an inhabited flying island as well. It flew overhead, which was interesting. The brathians were quite mad about it, though. Showering down from that particular island was one of those constant waterfalls, springing from an endless well of water mana. The fleet had to be protected from a deluge of thousands upon thousands of litres of water.
"Ah, I noticed that as well. Apparently, it's all down to the Mother Tree. She can be an unreliable and somewhat dangerous neighbour. The mountains close to where she makes her home have been largely abandoned over the years, and now it's considered too difficult, or too expensive to root her out."
"Huh."
"That's one of the reasons Satrap Umizan is so rich. When everyone else moved out, he picked up his Conglomerate and moved in, judging that the Tree wouldn't bother them if they stayed in the waters and left her roots alone. He was right, and profited greatly, so I'm told."
Stupid Tree. Why does she have to be so unsociable? Sheesh. You can't even tolerate people living in a mountain next to you? I'll tell her straight up, if she tries to kick the Colony out, I'll nibble on her roots until she collapses.
Some of the places we've passed have been pretty big, surprisingly big, considering they're built on the sides of the mountains and not inside them, but apparently none of them are big enough to warrant a stop over. Just how big the places we are going to visit are is starting to worry me.
"Anyway, I thought I'd let you know that the fleet is going to be stopping soon. We've almost arrived at our destination."
"Lakespire? Wow."
It's taken a few days to get here, which doesn't sound like much, but with the wind and water manipulation going into moving these boats, we are moving. I wouldn't be shocked if we'd travelled well over a thousand kilometres. Maybe even two.
"So have they told you how we get down there?"
Like all of the biggest brathian settlements, this one is underwater. I doubt they're going to put the entire fleet in a bubble, so there must be some way of getting us all down there.
"I asked a few times, Eldest, but they wouldn't tell me. They seem to want it to be a surprise. My ship has pulled closer, I think it's time for me to get back. See you when we get to the bottom, Eldest."
"Alright then. Thanks for dropping by."
With a running start and a powerful leap, Cobalt flies over the railing of my own ship and is promptly yoinked out of the air by a wind mage, who pulls her back onto her own ship. Just when I'm wondering if I should nap or continue to admire the view, Marzban emerges from below deck with his son, Theraz, by his side. A moment later, I feel a mind reach out to mine.
[Greetings.]
[Hello, again, Olivis.]
I try not to sound immensely weary with this whole facade. I fail.
[It's simply protocol,] the Dungeon Seer sniffs. [Even if you were a golgari, or human dignitary, you would be subject to the exact same restrictions.]
[I get it, I get it.]
As if I would try and melt their minds while aboard their ship. Where's the trust? Eventually, I'm connected to Marzban via the mage.
[Hey there, Marzban. Come to flex and work on your tan?]
Theraz claps a hand to his mouth and tries to contain a laugh. I guess I was connected to him as well?
[No,] the brathian replies humourlessly. [I came to inform you of our imminent descent.]
[Yes, Cobalt mentioned we were getting close. I was starting to wonder how we were all getting down there.]
[Bubble generators,] he tells me.
[Bubble generators?] I ask.
[Bubble generators,] he nods.
-x-X-x-
A bubble generator, as it turns out, is pretty much what it sounds like. Each creates a thick layer of protection over the open topside of the ship, which all of a sudden is now fully submersible. The brathian are absolute masters of their craft, I have to say.
Marzban explains the process to me as it happens. First the ships take on a bit of water, making them heavier, and we start sinking. Normally, this would be terrible, the ships are literally sinking, except these ships are designed to do it. As we get lower to the water level, I watch as the shimmering 'bubble' forms, shortly before we sink far enough that the water begins to foam up the sides of the ship.
[When it's just us aboard, we don't even need the bubble, so long as we keep enough air below decks to prevent us from dropping too fast,] Marzban says.
Indeed, not every ship is deploying a bubble, only the ones with the Colony and our allies on board.
It's a wondrous thing to see as the fleet slips beneath the waves, although it's immediately overtaken by something else I spot.
An underwater mountain, its peak terminating just a few metres under the water's surface. Obviously, this is the 'spire' part of the 'Lakespire'. It's a pointy ol' thing too, resembling a spear more than a mountain. The further we descend, the more of it is revealed, and the more impressive the view becomes.
The brathian seem to have a way with coral. They use it for their buildings, some of them anyway, growing and shaping it into whatever dimensions they want. The spire is absolutely covered in the stuff, all of it glowing bright beneath the waves, and teaming with brathians. There are glowing docks extending out from the mountain, and I see hundreds and hundreds of ships, some with bubbles, some without, all tethered and hawking their wares.
Extending my senses, I try to get a sense of the mana in the area, and sure enough, I feel like I detect several of the reclusive Shulk, extending their protection over a wide area, encompassing all of this enormous market.
[Welcome to Lakespire,] Marzban says formally. [Other communities like to think of it as the brathian capital city, but it isn't. It's much more important than that.]
Makes sense. These people pretty much worship the art of commerce, and this is the largest market their people have created on Pangera. It's less like a capital and more like a temple city.
[You see that area there, with the majority pinkish, purple coral?] He points off the side of the ship and I swivel a little to get a better look.
I've been warned not to move much, balance issues.
[Yeah?]
[That's the area rented by our Conglomerate. We'll be docking there and inviting traders in to meet you and see your wares.]
I sigh.
[Kind of feels like I'm going to be ogled like a prime piece of meat.]
[There's a reason it feels that way,] he tells me bluntly. [That's exactly what's going to happen. They'll want to see you, talk to you even, though you can expect more of those protocols you seem to hate. Traders are risk averse, but they also know the greatest profit comes from taking the right risks. If they're going to buy into your goods, they need to know that you are stable, a cooperative species of monsters. If the Colony decides to go wild and attack everyone, then you'll be wiped out and nobody will touch the products these merchants have sitting in their warehouses.]
Well I can't really argue with that. Except for the wiping out part. Give us a little time, and we'll be invincible.
[Fair enough, I'll be good.]
It's a shame I won't get a chance to visit and explore the markets myself. At least, I'm assuming I won't get the chance. For some reason, I doubt they have the room to accommodate me underwater here. There's no chance Smithant, Cobalt and the others don't go absolutely crazy out there, though. I know for a fact the Colony sent them with a significant amount of wealth in the form of cores. It's their job to purchase samples for us to break down and study. Hopefully they do well negotiating with the brathian merchants.
Our descent slows the closer we come to the vast underwater mountain until we are sliding gracefully forward and down, slowing further and further as we draw closer to the docks. Well before we are tied down, I can tell our large fleet has gathered a significant amount of attention. It's probably not every day a few dozen ships slide into port at the same time. It'd be more if the Colony hadn't been so willing to cram into the holds. Some of the larger ships have hundreds of ants crammed inside, perfectly content to be squished on top of each other.
When we finally dock, Marzban and the other bearers of brathian authority descend from the ship and there is much pointing, bowing and discreet bribing. Why do they have to bribe their own port authorities? I put it down to 'brathian customs' and shrug it off. The Colony really won't do well here, they would refuse to pay a bribe, not out of ethics, but because they wouldn't understand the idea of someone not doing their job without being paid on the side.
In only a few minutes, the fleet is crawling with activity. Literally, crawling. From below decks, thousands of ants emerge, carrying crates, laying out the cargo and setting up what will be our trading area for the next day or so. In short order, the largest ships tied closest to the dock have been transformed from graceful-looking tubs to sparkling bazaars, with the complete range of the Colony's finest put on display. Everything from our rugs to our sweetened jams has its own stall.
All we have to do is wait for the customers to arrive.
And they do, shockingly quickly. Brathians emerge from the city in such numbers I fear we are under attack for a minute. Rank upon rank of them, each more elaborately outfitted than the last arrive, stopping several hundred metres away and filling up the narrow paths and passages around the coral buildings, staring us down.
They look hungry. They smell sweet, sweet deals! Suddenly, it's like a switch is flicked, and the gathered merchants charge the fleet with a roar. From my position, I can only clack my mandibles in disbelief. What is this? Black Friday? Chill out a little!
-x-X-x-
[Regardless of the quality of the goods your colony produces, there will need to be a reduction in the price due to your very nature,] a snooty brathian merchant says to me.
Inside the bubble, these, I'm assuming, exceptionally wealthy men and women aren't quite as impressive as they are outside of it. Their flowing robes and elaborate garments are adorned with loose fabric that dances and swirls through the water as they move through it. In the bubble, it attempts to do the same, powered by some enchantment, but ultimately it fails to be nearly as impressive.
[We're monsters,] I reply, flatly, [though I suppose you could make an argument we are similar to the bruan'chii. Only the first Queen was actually born from the Dungeon, the rest of us are her children, either directly or by several degrees.]
[The bruan'chii don't have cores.]
[Oh, we're obviously more monster than they are, I don't mean to imply otherwise. You were saying something about our nature?]
[Monsters don't adhere to the same levels of cleanliness or hygiene as the civilised races,] the merchant declares as if stating the obvious. [There is no doubt your produce has more contamination than would otherwise be the case.]
No way she said that. I focus a bit to see a little more clearly. Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's a she. Imagine attacking a colony not just any colony, the Colony, about cleanliness!
It's been the same with all of these merchants. They don't necessarily mean what they're saying, all they want is to find an angle to drive down the price. The fact that they're talking to me at all and attempting to haggle means they're interested in buying.
[We clean ourselves with acid,] I snap. [Acid. Do you clean yourself with acid?]
[What? Of course not!]
[Then please take a step away, I don't want my carapace contaminated. Look, look at that ant over there, you see what she's doing?]
I point with an antenna and the merchant turns to see.
[It]
[She.]
[... She appears to be rubbing her legs all over herself.]
[You need to look a little more carefully. Look at the hind legs, see how they stretch to the back. It's quick, but you can see it.]
[Yes yes I think I see what you mean.]
[She's collecting a diluted form of formic acid on her back legs, then using it to clean her legs, then rubbing those across her carapace. You are watching an acid bath happening in real time. No mould, no dirt, no nothing! We are the cleanliest species on the entire planet. We wash our walls down, our tools down, our floors down, everything, with acid.]
This seems to take the merchant aback.
[The entire reason she's doing that, and so many other members of my family, is because we don't feel clean here in your city. We live packed together in nests surrounded by earth and stone, we can't afford for the air to grow foul or anything nasty to accumulate.]
[Why aren't you doing it, then?]
Holy moly, I want to. My legs are practically twitching.
[I can't move too much while I'm here on the ship. Anyway, we need to discuss compensation from the city for imposing its poor hygiene on us, who should I speak to about that?]
~~~
[I am interested in these ingots,] Smithant said. [I sense an unusual mana inside.]
[Yes, I see what you mean,] Cobalt confirmed. [The smelting method seems rather unusual, notice the folds in the metal?]
[Of course.]
The two carvers turned to their 'agent'. The Island Conglomerate had sent someone to accompany the carver contingent who were out browsing the markets.
[We are interested in these ingots here. Could you inquire as to the price?]
[Of course.]
The mage, Irisod, turned to the agent and relayed the ants' request. The owner of this particular stall smiled, despite watching the two monsters nervously, and replied.
[He's asking for two-fifty. That's at least thirty percent overpriced.]
The two ants turned away, disappointed.
"Every place we go is asking significantly over the value of the goods," Smithant said, irritated.
"Hopefully, we'll find someone more reasonable soon."
Behind them, the merchant protested as the ants began to move away, and the mage reached out to them again, laughing.
[He's willing to come down in price. He's asking two-twenty five.]
[That's still twenty percent too much,] Cobalt replied, not bothering to turn around.
They took another step.
More discussion, more urgency, and Irisod reached out to them once more.
[As you are very discerning customers, the merchant is willing to come down another ten percent.]
There was definitely a rising sense of mirth over the mind bridge, but the two carvers didn't understand it.
[Still ten percent too high,] Cobalt refuted, [why would we ever pay over the market value?]
It simply didn't make sense. If the items were worth a certain amount, then they would pay that amount for them, gladly. Every merchant they spoke to seemed to expect they would spend much more than they should.
Smithant and Cobalt took another step.
The merchant, visibly sweating at this point, spoke again, and they halted, waiting for the translation to come.
"We could be looking at other stalls," Smithant grumbled.
"It doesn't hurt to be polite," Cobalt said.
[The merchant congratulates you on your hard-nosed business acumen and agrees to lower his price by another five percent,] Irisod told them, attempting to muffle her laughter.
Smithant turned around, a hint of irritation showing in the brusque movement of her antennae.
[We will pay one-seventy,] she said shortly. [It would have been one-seventy five, but our time has been wasted. Is this acceptable?]
After some grumbling and arm waving, the merchant eventually agreed and the ants walked out, several cores poorer but in possession of some bright new ingots.
[I genuinely can't tell,] Irisod said to them, [if your species are the worst hagglers I've ever seen, or the best.]
[We don't understand this 'haggling',] Cobalt explained. [We simply wish to exchange for goods at the correct value.]
[The whole point of haggling, is to try and get more, or pay less than the correct value,] Irisod tried to make the practice clear to them. [To us, it is like a game of wits where we try to best the other party.]
To the ants, the entire thing reeked of selfishness. You were not entitled to pay less than an item was worth, nor were you within your rights to charge more. The individual was served, not the collective.
Selfish.
-x-X-x-
Eran Thouris was in her element. Her mind raced, the blood pounded in her veins and she felt as if an electric current were running over her scales.
"This tea is quite adequate."
Seated across from her, the representative of the Deep Coral Conglomerate, Lissa, tried to conceal her pleasure after imbibing the fine drink.
"You might change your mind when I tell you how much it costs."
She made a gesture with her left hand, a flickering of fingers, and her adversary's eyes widened.
"That's less than I would have expected."
"If I'm not mistaken, it's almost half of what your Conglomerate charges for its patented tea blend, is it not?"
"Less than half," Lissa grated.
"Oh my. I imagine the introduction of this tea to the market will collapse your sales precipitously."
"Are you suggesting this swill is better than our tea?!" Lissa demanded.
"Of course not. It doesn't quite achieve the same depth of flavour, and the Deep Coral blend is famed throughout Pangera for its rich aroma. This tea gets close, but doesn't quite match it."
She smiled and took a deep sip.
"Which is why it's half the price."
"You can't really believe that our customers will abandon us for this, inferior, monster-created leaf," Lissa scoffed, but she didn't quite have the right amount of energy behind it.
They would, of course they would. The Colony's tea didn't quite measure up in terms of quality, but they made so much of the stuff. In this instance, Satrap Umizan had been more than happy to undercut the market.
"Deep Coral have had it too good for too long!" he'd declared, radiating smug energy.
Now, watching their representative, Lissa, squirm, she shared his satisfaction.
~~~
"Do they really put this together without tools?"
"In some ways, being a monster is an advantage," Eran informed the Flowing Wave Conglomerate representative, Terraz. "You can see how they have mutated and evolved themselves to excel at a given task."
Before them, a carver was demonstrating the way the Colony made most of their furniture. At present, the ant was processing the raw wood, using her forelegs and mandibles to manipulate and make extremely precise cuts.
"It appears the ant is doing most of its measuring by eye."
"Her measuring."
Market testing had revealed it was important that their customers not refer to the ants as 'it'. Such terminology 'otherised' the Colony, making them seem cold and more monstrous.
Terraz rolled his eyes, perfectly aware of what she was attempting to do.
"Her measuring, if you must."
"Well, let's ask."
Nearby, a mage was stationed for this very purpose, and the two approached him. They relayed their question, and the mage then turned to the crafts-ant to get an answer.
"Honoured crafter Carpentant says she is using her antennae and forelegs for measuring purposes."
The ant in question turned to them and extended her front leg, allowing Terraz to lean forward and inspect it.
"Are these markings?" he wondered.
Along the inside of the leg were evenly spaced marks running up to a metre long.
"It takes a trivial amount of evolutionary energy for the carvers to maintain a permanent ruler on their legs," the mage continued her translation. "Early on, the Colony realised the importance of standard measurements."
Carpentant then turned to the wood once more and indicated something, making swift motions with her legs and antennae.
"And now she is demonstrating how, after measuring, she will mark the wood with pheromones to record where to cut. With skillful application, the scent trails can be made exceedingly thin, perfect for precise cutting."
Theraz nodded to himself, impressed.
"It seems that at some point, tools will be necessary. Crafting high-quality furniture requires extremely precise cutting, after all."
Carpentant paused as the mage relayed the message, then grasped the beam of wood before her in both forelegs. In one delicate motion, she angled her head and made a smooth, slow cut. With one of her middle legs, she seized the offcut and held it out to the representative to take.
He reached out and took it, looking down at a sheet of wood so thin and delicate he could see through it.
"Any further questions?" Eran Thouris asked with a small smile.
~~~
"Do you really expect me to believe that a species of monster is capable of creating fine cuisine?" a chef belonging to the Swift River Conglomerate scoffed. "They eat Biomass, and I'm fairly sure they don't take the time to cook it."
There was a round of snide laughter from the gathered traders and cooks. Each of them was tasked with either sourcing or preparing the foodstuffs for the wealthy conglomerates. It was predictable to Eran Thouris that they would object to eating food prepared by monsters. She stepped forward.
"Obviously, most members of the Colony eat Biomass, in the main. However, an interesting thing occurred when they began to mix with other peoples. The ants developed a taste for certain foods, initially as a treat they offered to their Queens, which then spread throughout the population. This started mainly with the drinking of tea, but has now widened to include a range of biscuits and cakes, which we have offered here for you."
The ant bakers had been extremely fussy and reluctant to work with ingredients that had been stuffed in the hull of a ship for several days. Freshness was a core element in their philosophy, apparently. Nevertheless, they had toiled away and delivered a slew of fine baked goods, artfully decorated with images of their beloved Queens, and Anthony.
She knew these traders would be unable to resist the offerings once they'd had a taste, she just needed to break down the barriers preventing them from attempting it. Before them was a long and wide table, laden with inviting food prepared by the Colony's finest bakers. She stepped forward, lifting a small, bite sized offering, and popped it into her mouth.
The fluffiness of the cake, the richness of the cream, the perfect blend of sour and sweet within the apricot jam, all capped off with bursts of freshness from perfectly sliced chunks of fresh strawberry. It was exceedingly good, and she had no trouble showing her appreciation on her face. She took up another one and offered it to the loud chef from earlier.
"You have your pride as an artisan, which is well earned and widely respected," she said, buttering him up, "surely you aren't intimidated by something prepared by a monster?"
She'd backed him into a corner, and he knew it. His eyes narrowed, but nonetheless, he reached out to take hold of the cake. The moment his fingers touched it, she knew it was over.
This trip was going to be so profitable.
-x-X-x-
Eran Thouris is beaming like a cat who got the cream. Also the fish. Probably nibbled on a rare and endangered bird as well.
[So it really went that well?]
[Oh yes,] she assures me. [The number of offers we received is modest, but the impression we made was devastating. Once we prove we are able to move the quantity and quality we promised, orders will start flooding in.]
Fair enough, I suppose. On the surface once again, Lakespire is now in our wake as the brathians are counting their gains.
[Quick question. Is Eran your name, or your title?] I ask.
She turns to me, still struggling to keep the satisfied smile from her face.
[It's both,] she says. [The Eran is the head negotiator for the Conglomerate, which also became my name when I assumed the role.]
[Wait, you have to give up your name to become the head negotiator?]
[Of course,] she nods. [In this position, I am the sharpest blade and the stiffest shield of the Conglomerate. In many ways, my role is more important than that of the Satrap. An Eran is required to be ready to go into battle at a moment's notice and fight to the bitter end. There is no role for ego in someone who takes up such a burden.]
Yeesh. There's a glint of steel in her eye and I know she means what she says, but I remind myself she's just talking about haggling. She doesn't literally have to fight anyone. The brathians take their commerce way too seriously.
[Soooo, can I just call you Eran?]
[That's fine.]
[Right. So, Eran, where are we going next, and for the love of life, will I be able to stretch my legs when we get there?]
Stuck in the middle of this tub, I've barely been able to move for days! If this goes on much longer, I'm going to lift myself up using gravity and I don't care how dumb it looks!
[We are on our way to Freehill and should be there in another two days,] she says.
[That's where the Folk hang out, isn't it?]
[It's where they live.They're a fairly nomadic people, but Freehill is the largest permanent settlement they have. They don't have a centralised government, as such, but their council meets in Freehill to discuss matters that impact all of their people.]
[Oh right. I wonder if they've decided if the Colony qualify as people yet.]
Eran frowns at me.
[I'm not sure what you mean.]
[We've met some of the Folk before. Found two of them on some sort of training journey and they stayed with us for a while. White and Grey, they called themselves. Helped us out in a pinch. I should probably try and meet up with them if I get a chance.]
Marzban, who's been listening in nearby, chips in at this point.
[Where did you meet these two?] he asks.
[Up in the second stratum. We were in a tight spot at the time and they really helped us out.]
Do I need to detail the siege we went through, fighting against the Legion and golgari at the same time? I'll go with no.
[It's unusual to see them that high up,] Marzban says, arms folded across his chest. [Whoever was being trained must have been fairly young.]
[Yeah, White. Some sort of prodigy, or so I'm told.]
[Do you have any idea what sort of rank your associates were? Grey was the trainer, I think you said? It might be helpful if this person can vouch for us when we set up our stalls.]
[Pretty sure Grey said he was a blademaster.]
Eran freezes and Marzban blanches as I speak.
[What? Is there something I should know?]
Their reaction tells me that something is going on. Thankfully, they're willing to explain it to me.
[Blademasters are the most respected] Eran starts.
[And most dangerous,] Marzban mutters.
[Figures amongst the Folk,] the trader finishes, shooting her brother-in-law a glare. [If a blademaster is willing to vouch for the Colony, then that will help a great deal in legitimising our business venture amongst their people.]
I didn't realise Grey was such a big deal.
[Alright, that's good, I suppose. I have no idea if he'll be there when we arrive, but we can try and reach out, I suppose. He said he was going to try and get his people to approve an alliance with the Colony. Or at least not have them hunt us.]
I consider for a moment.
[What sort of place is Freehill anyway? I'm going to assume it's above the water at least.]
Marzban fills me in.
[It's a mountain, same as every other one in the fourth. The Folk don't live inside it, like your people do, but Freehill is a city that runs around the outside of it.]
[Like it encircles the whole mountain.]
He nods.
[It's enormous. The Folk don't really believe in dense living, so everything is quite spread out, and different sections of the city are usually inhabited by different breeds of Folk. The communal areas are higher up the mountain, and the council meets right at the top of the city, not the mountain.]
Well, if it's spacious, then surely I'll get to move around a bit. Under guard, I've got no doubt. Who lets a mythic monster run around amongst your people? Soon to be eaten people. I mean, I wouldn't, but someone like Garralosh? Doesn't bear thinking about.
As we speed through the waters of the endless Lake, I can't help but get excited about the chance to meet some new people, stretch my legs and catch up with some old acquaintances. The Folk are tightly allied with the bruan'chii, so I'm guessing they'll be more or less happy to receive me and my siblings.
The only real question is whether they're in need of finely made and well-priced goods.
-x-X-x-
My first glimpse of Freehill pretty much confirmed everything that Marzban had said about it. The place is huge. Now, I'm no geologist, and I can't tell you what size any of the mountains on Earth were, or how wide, or their circumference. However, I seriously doubt that any mountain from my previous planet holds a candle to the behemoths that hold up the third stratum. I mean, the pillars in the third were pretty damn impressive on their own, but the third is stacked in layers, the fourth is just one vast open space held up by freakin' huge mountains.
And this particular mountain is dang near covered by the city of Freehill. Not further up, obviously, but the base of the thing is a forest of mixed housing. A totally eclectic mix of housing styles dots the slope as far as my eyes can see. Weird pagoda-looking things, tents, log cabin-like constructions, all grouped into little districts without any apparent rhyme or reason.
Despite the disorganised nature of it all, I can tell the place is packed. There must be millions of people on that mountain. Clearly, the Folk aren't just surviving in the Dungeon, they are thriving.
I remark as much to Marzban.
[The Folk appear to be pretty darn prosperous, judging by the size of the place. Do you guys do a lot of trade with them?]
[They are strong fighters with a reputation for martial prowess,] he nods, [which is well earned. As a result, there aren't many who are willing to poke the beast, so to speak.]
[Yes, we do a fair amount of trade with them,] Eran adds the, in her view, more important information, [though the Folk aren't huge consumers of most goods. They prefer to live a humbler existence than most of the races. Even their leaders aren't fond of grand displays of wealth.]
Sounds like they might get along with the Colony in that sense. The Queens are treated better than anyone else in the family and that's mostly against their wishes. They'd joyfully live just the same as every other ant if we'd let them. Bah!
The ships pull into the bustling docks that seem to ring the entire mountain. From my position, hunched on the deck of the barge, I can see Eran as she leaves the ship and meets the person in charge. Obviously, they had word the fleet was going to arrive, because things are soon sorted and the brathian lead negotiator returns with a reserved smile.
[You have permission to disembark, but they insist that the number of ants allowed on the land at one time be limited to a thousand. You yourself will need to be accompanied while you are in the city, is that acceptable?]
[Of course it is!]
I'm dying to get off this boat, I've been here for almost a week! If the Folk demand I stick woolly mittens on my mandibles to blunt their edges, I wouldn't blink.
Heh.
Getting something of my mass off a boat in the water is quite the operation, as it turns out. I pick my way forward, one step at a time, while the brathian try to counterbalance the weight as to avoid capsizing their biggest barge. It takes ten minutes, but finally my legs touch down on solid ground and I can't help but clack my mandibles happily. I'm off the ship!
First order of business a clean!
Holy moly, I didn't realise how badly the need for ant cleanliness had engrained itself in me. Normally I don't even think about it, my legs just move on their own while I'm thinking about something else, but the need for a wash has been driving me crazy!
Twenty minutes later, I'm finally satisfied with the state of my carapace, antennae and legs. Nothing cleans quite like fresh formic acid. Cleansed and ready to go, I take a good look around me for the first time. The dock is bustling, which is to be expected. My siblings have been busy unloading the fleet, stacking the crates in neat rows along the stone quay I'm standing on. The brathians are also out and about, stretching their legs, negotiating for food, lodgings, provisions and various other matters regarding the fleet.
What really grabs my attention is the Folk themselves. White and Grey both had wolfish features, and I'd assumed that all the Folk looked like that, but apparently I was quite wrong. In fact, looking around, there don't seem to be many rules at all for what qualifies as a member of the Folk!
There are wolfish-looking humanoids, sure. Also some cat-featured ones. Some mousy-looking ones are about, a fair bit shorter than the others. I see a large one with what appears to be a lion's mane. Not to say they're all fuzzy, oh no, a group with leathery grey skin walk past carrying cargo, their noses replaced with horns.
And the consistency of animalistic features differs wildly. Some of them could almost pass as human, with perhaps a strange angular look to their features, or a bit of coloured fur on their arms. Others are way more distinct, with snouts, or double jointed legs, or tails.
Grey had tried to explain to me that the Folk were an alliance of disparate people, but I'd never really understood what he was talking about.
Then I saw what must be a snake-folk and just gave up trying to work out what species were represented. There don't seem to be any rules here. To one degree or another, every member of the Folk is some blend of humanoid and animal, with the slider between the two set to random.
What the hey, I can get behind it. So long as they aren't interested in hunting down my family, I don't have a problem with it.
Just like I'm staring at them, not that they can tell, they are also staring at me. I suppose it's not every day they see a giant ant hanging out on the docks. I wave an antenna and look around for Eran, only to find her down by my leg, waiting impatiently.
[If you're done cleaning yourself, we can meet your guards over there and leave this place.] She wrinkles her nose. [Wherever cities meet the sea, there is always a distinct odour.]
[You mean the poop?]
[Yes,] she sighs, [the poop.]
[Come to think of it wouldn't every city dump their waste into the Lake? Is that is that an issue? I mean you guys live in there.]
Eran begins to lead the way and I follow after. Her eyes narrow as she folds her arms across her chest.
[Let's just say we invest a great deal into filtration technology.]
-x-X-x-
Freehill is buzzing. The Folk seem to love music, dancing, and fighting in pretty much equal measure. As tall as I am, I can see over the roofs of the buildings that line the wide street I'm led down, and pretty much everywhere I look there is either an impromptu hoe-down, or a group of cheering Folk watching some brawlers throw down. In fact, I catch glimpses of straight up fighting pits in the distance, with rows of wooden benches circling a sand-filled arena.
At the end of the dock, Eran introduces herself to two tough-looking individuals, each bearing large blades on their backs. The first is dressed in loose black robes with a dog-like snout and a nasty scar, the other seems rabbit-ish? She doesn't have the ears, but there's something about the nose that speaks to me of whiskers.
Without a word, to me at least, they fall in beside me, one on either side, and Eran continues to lead the way. Her own brathian guards, along with Marzban and the rest of her family, are with her, of course, but plenty of locals have wriggled into the entourage as well. Like a conductor, Eran Thouris deals with each of them in the correct timing, reassuring this one, placating that one and dismissing the third.
For my part, I just keep my eyes open metaphorically and take in the sights. My two guards appear quite bored as they stroll along by my sides, but the people on the street give us a wide berth, which suits me just fine, I'm not trying to stand on anyone.
Eventually we come to a nice-looking building, three storey's high, constructed from polished beams of a wood I don't quite recognise. The best thing about the place is that it adjoins one of those gaps between the various clusters of habitation that make up Freehill. Which means my ant brethren and I have somewhere to stay. Only a thousand of us are allowed off the ships at one time, so numbers will have to be rotated. I feel bad, but I'm not going back on board, which means twenty-one slots are more or less permanently filled.
[So do we just sleep out in the open, or are we allowed to whip something up real quick?]
I ask Eran, but it's Marzban who answers.
[Let me talk to your security.]
He walks over to one of the guards and respectfully engages them in conversation. The rabbit lady doesn't seem to care that much, pointing to the field and shrugging, then pointing to me.
[As long as you don't tunnel below ground level, and as long as you specifically aren't out of their sight, they don't mind.]
Oh, nice.
Good thing Cobalt is around. She and a few other ants have followed along in my wake, waiting to see where the rest of our siblings would be allowed to stay.
"Hey, Cobalt. We can make a nest in this field apparently. We aren't allowed to dig below surface level, though. Everything above ground."
"That's quite accommodating of them," she says, relieved. "I was worried we would need to rest out in the open."
The two of us shudder. The other ants have been comfortably packed below decks, but I've had to suffer under the open sky! Given the choice, I'm sure all of them would rather sleep in the ships than be without a roof over their head.
I find a spot to stand, unwilling to plonk myself on the ground so soon after being freed from the ship, while Cobalt heads back to the dock, returning with a workforce of several hundred carvers. As soon as they arrive, they get to work, conjuring up the earth and stone they need to throw together a temporary, but comfortable nest.
In the meantime, I try to reach out to one of my guards with a mind bridge.
[So am I allowed to talk to you?]
[If you want to,] the dog-guy yawns.
Seriously, these two seem extremely relaxed for people on guard duty.
[I was wondering if either of you had heard of Grey? Or White? They were some Folk that I met before, up on the second stratum.]
The dog-guy frowns, thinking, then replies in the negative.
[Not that I can think of. There are a lot of us around.]
[I think Grey is a blademaster, if that means anything.]
[It does. You met a blademaster, on the second?]
He sounds a little baffled.
[Yeah, he was travelling with his student, White. Why are you looking at me like that?]
[I'm just surprised he didn't kill you.]
[Why would he kill us? We're friendly!]
[Monster hunting is one of the main ways we make our living,] he says, looking at my carapace in a decidedly mercantile way. [And you look pretty valuable for an ant.]
[Hey, I resent that. For one thing, every ant is valuable, and second, I would kick your butt all up and down the street if one of you tried to get your mitts on my core.]
He grins, and all of a sudden he looks a lot more wolfish than he does dog-ish.
[Is that a challenge?] he asks, sounding intent.
I shrug my antennae.
[What does that mean? If I say yes, do we fight to the death or something?]
[No. We engage in honourable combat to determine a victor before witnesses.]
I look down at him, trying not to be insulting.
[Are you sure you even want that? You're just a little guy, after all. Wouldn't you need to bring a few friends if you want to beat a monster like me?]
The rabbit-Folk is openly laughing by the time I'm done, and the dog-Folk is looking even more aggressive.
[Oh, you've said it now. Are you going to accept my challenge, or not?]
I've been cooped up on a ship for a week, I'm happy to stretch my legs and brains and mandibles.
[Alright, sure. I'll try not to hurt you.]
-x-X-x-
Like I said, the Folk seem like they're down to fight at pretty much the drop of a hat. Before ten minutes have passed, I find myself in an arena, surrounded by hundreds of spectators, while the dog-kin is stretching and taking some practice swings of his blade.
[How many of these arenas do you have?] I ask, a little bewildered.
[A lot,] he says. [We hone our skills in battle constantly against each other, and then against the Dungeon. Sometimes there are demonstrations where captured monsters are brought in so our warriors can test themselves against them. Most of these people probably assume that is the case here.]
He waves to the crowd and they cheer.
I wave to them with an antenna and get no response. Rude.
[Alright, what are the rules?]
[Fight, but don't kill.]
[... That's it?]
[That's it. Use your full strength, because I will be using mine.]
So saying, he takes a firm grip of his sword and lowers himself into a grounded stance. The atmosphere becomes serious in an instant. A hush descends upon the crowd, as the audience holds their breath, waiting for the moment the battle begins.
For my part, I'm still pretty confused. This guy is just going to fight me, with a sword? Just one? Look, I don't have the biggest ego in the world, but I'm a tier seven, mythic monster over here. I don't have the kind of ant numbers within range to really fuel the Altar, but am I even going to need it?
Then again, this guy seems to be a professional warrior, someone who knows their stuff. Is there something going on he's aware of but I'm not? It would be seriously embarrassing if I were to lose in an instant to some trick I didn't see coming, so I decide to brace myself, spin up my mind constructs and take things seriously.
A slight shift of my opponent's foot is all the warning I get.
FAST!
CLANG!
Antennae blaring in warning, my nerves fire and I shift my position, angling my head to the side just in time for the blade, which would have punctured my eye, to spark off my carapace.
Holy moly! That's some serious speed! Surprised that he missed, my opponent is still quick to react, pushing off my thorax with both feet to create some distance before he readies himself again. Not wanting to be caught out, I turn to face him directly, baring my mandibles.
Whoa!
CLANG!
Again, he leaps forward with incredible speed, launching from the ground like a guided missile. I shift my head and again, the blade strikes hard against my gravity compressed diamond carapace, sending sparks flying high into the air. This time, I'm not going to let him reset himself so easily. I lash out with my mandibles, not using Void Chomp, because I don't want to destroy the arena, but I put a bit of force behind it.
With an insanely fast move, he parries one of my mandibles in mid air, using the force of the blow to bring himself back down to the ground. Legs tucked, he prepares to launch himself again.
Let's try a little Force magic.
I hit him with a blast in the face, or at least, I try to, but he somehow senses it coming and leaps to the side. So I try it again. And again. And another five times after that. I don't manage to land a hit. Even though the spell itself is invisible, he somehow knows it's coming, but I'm not allowing him the time to set his feet for one of those rocket jumps. In the end, all that happens is he bounces around the arena while my spells slam into the reinforced earth walls with resounding thuds.
Eventually, he gets bored, or frustrated, and lashes out with a powerful swing. Unlike the other times, he activates a Skill. A wave of crystalline sword-light is formed on the edge of the blade before it flies off, racing toward me with incredible speed.
I've never seen sword-light this dense or fast moving before, clearly this guy has a high level sword Skill. Of course, my reactions are on point and I angle my carapace perfectly. When the light hits, I feel the impact through my whole body, but my trusty carapace doesn't yield a bit.
Gweheheheh.
Not enough! Not even remotely enough! The crowd gasps as one, shocked that the mighty cut wasn't enough to get through my exo-skeleton, but the dog-Folk isn't done!
With a shout, he pulls back, leaps up into the air and unleashes a flurry of strikes, each of them sending an arc of sword-light flying at me. A roar of approval bursts from the crowd, but it soon quietens as I roll deftly out of the way. Well, I say deft. The ground literally rumbles when I roll now, given how large I am.
Time to take this a little bit more seriously.
I pull out a huge chunk of gravity mana and begin to compress and shape it, my minds working in concert to complete the work. In short order, the gravity domain is ready and I deploy it, ensuring it covers the entire arena, but not beyond.
For good measure, I give it a kick from the Altar, empowering the spell massively as it expands with me at the centre. The moment it catches my opponent within the diameter, he buckles, but doesn't fall. Clearly, he hasn't skipped legs day, but I doubt he can perform those fancy bullet like jumps with the weight of the
YOOOOOO!
CLANG!
Or he can. Not as fast as before, sure, but I wasn't expecting it at all. Thankfully, my trusty future sense and reflexes are up to the task, and once again, my precious eyeball is saved from certain slicing. This guy really likes going for the eyeball. I guess he figures he can't get through the carapace? His sword strikes have been heavy, sure, but my gleaming carapace has barely a scratch at this point.
I lunge again. This time, I know something my opponent doesn't. Under a gravity domain of this kind of strength, he isn't going to be in the air for long.
He slams into the ground, and my mandibles are there. I chomp down with enough force to hold onto him.
Now, I don't want to bite through the guy, so what exactly do I do.
In a flash of inspiration, I drop the domain before I start to spin, building up momentum as I turn once, twice, then I release! As if he were shot from a cannon, my opponent streaks through the air before he slams into the wall with thunderous force.
Whoops?
-x-X-x-
[You really thought you were strong enough to beat a mythic monster on your own?]
[I figured you were just an ant! How was I supposed to know?]
[I'm a tier seven, mythic ant! Probably the first one in the history of the darn Dungeon. Pay a little respect, man.]
Thankfully, my opponent wounded nothing but his pride in our confrontation. I think, for a moment, the crowd were considering rushing down and attempting to subdue the 'wild monster', which would have been a rather difficult scenario to navigate, but thankfully they relaxed when I sat down and didn't follow up on my strike. I mean whose first instinct is to rush at the huge monster? The Folk are crazy, I'm telling you.
He rubs a hand over his furry head, disgruntled.
[If we'd known you were this strong, we would have gotten some higher ranked swordsman to guard you.]
[There's no way the brathians lied to you about my tier, right?]
He shrugs helplessly.
[They probably assumed the same thing I did. Tier seven, but an ant, so it's fine. As a result, you only got me and my apprentice as guards, and I hate to say it, but we aren't up to the job.]
[Oh, the rabbit girl is your apprentice?]
[What do you mean, rabbit?]
[I don't know I was just getting rabbit vibes from her.]
[And what are you getting from me?]
[Dog or wolf, depending on your mood.]
I figure honesty is the best policy. If I'm being unspeakably rude, hopefully someone will tell me.
[That's unspeakably rude,] he says, placing a hand to the bridge of his muzzle.
Dang it.
[Hey, I didn't know! I apologise if I've caused offence. You guys don't like being discussed in relation to the animal you resemble?]
[No. We prefer to focus on the things that unite us rather than the things that divide us.]
He pushes himself to his feet and looks around. A lot of the crowd has dispersed, but there are still people in their seats, looking down at the two of us.
[We need to clear out, there'll be another fight soon, so we need to make space.]
[Oh. So these fighting pits get used a lot?]
That wolfish grin again.
[Around the clock.]
There isn't a fancy exit or anything, I just find a relatively empty part of the stands and climb right on over, my opponent hopping along beside me.
[So you aren't a blademaster?] I ask.
[What? Of course not! I'm of the fifth sword, not the tenth.]
So
[You're halfway to a blademaster?]
[In terms of rank, yes. My student is of the fourth.]
[Oh wow. You're lucky I went easy on you then. I wasn't sure how much you could take.]
I can tell he wants to rebut my statement, but after being defeated so handily, there isn't much he can say.
[Can I get your name, by the way? It's getting awkward just to think of you as 'that guy'.]
[You were thinking 'that dog guy', weren't you?]
[I would never! Yes. Yes I was.]
He sort of ripples, and I realise it was an instinct, a dog raising its hackles. Although I make sure to think that thought quietly.
[It's fine,] he mutters. [My name is Barker.]
I carefully don't say anything.
Once we are out of the fighting pit and back on the road, heading towards the field the Colony were setting up in, the not rabbit-Folk joins us again, grinning broadly at her teacher.
They speak to each other, she makes fun of him, at least, I think so, and then we're back to strolling along the path.
[So does this mean I'm going to get new guards? Stronger ones?]
Barker grimaces.
[Yes. I can't exactly help people feel safe if you can kick my backside whenever you want.]
[Oh, I definitely can. Like I didn't even use my middle grade stuff let alone the best stuff.]
[Alright, alright! We believe in a thing called graceful victory.]
[I don't.]
[Okay I guess that's fair. Once we get back towhat in the name of the source?!]
[What?!] I look around, wondering what brought on the sudden exclamation.
Barker points a finger.
[What is that?]
I look where he's pointing.
[That's a nest.]
[It's massive!]
I mean it really isn't. We've been gone for like an hour, at the most, and there's only so much the carvers can do in that amount of time. It's barely fifty metres tall.
[You said we could build a nest, right? They aren't finished yet, but that's a nest. We sleep in them and stuff.]
[It looks like a castle!]
[Come on this is pretty small, as far as nests go, but it does have to fit a thousand of us inside.]
Once again, Barker pinches his brow and sighs heavily.
[I probably should have checked what you were going to build. We're pretty lax when it comes to building code.]
I'd noticed.
[But we aren't this relaxed. You can't throw up something this big without checking with the council.]
[Well, you told us we couldn't go underground, which was smart, so they had to build up. Would it be better if it was wider rather than taller?]
[Maybe? It doesn't matter, I'll have to check with someone regardless.]
He turns and speaks to his student, who offers a short bow before she sprints off at impressive speeds.
[She's going to inform the school of what's transpired here and they'll send someone more suitable to guard you. When they get here, they can make a judgement on that.]
He gestures towards the still growing nest.
[And you should probably expect a lot of challenges going forward. Every student of the sword loves to test their mettle against strong monsters, and word of your victory will be spreading quickly through Freehill.]
[We just came here to trade,] I sigh.
Barker shrugs.
[Winning duels isn't a bad way to advertise. We're the Folk, we admire the strong.]
-x-X-x-
[You really thought you were strong enough to beat a mythic monster on your own?]
[I figured you were just an ant! How was I supposed to know?]
[I'm a tier seven, mythic ant! Probably the first one in the history of the darn Dungeon. Pay a little respect, man.]
Thankfully, my opponent wounded nothing but his pride in our confrontation. I think, for a moment, the crowd were considering rushing down and attempting to subdue the 'wild monster', which would have been a rather difficult scenario to navigate, but thankfully they relaxed when I sat down and didn't follow up on my strike. I mean whose first instinct is to rush at the huge monster? The Folk are crazy, I'm telling you.
He rubs a hand over his furry head, disgruntled.
[If we'd known you were this strong, we would have gotten some higher ranked swordsman to guard you.]
[There's no way the brathians lied to you about my tier, right?]
He shrugs helplessly.
[They probably assumed the same thing I did. Tier seven, but an ant, so it's fine. As a result, you only got me and my apprentice as guards, and I hate to say it, but we aren't up to the job.]
[Oh, the rabbit girl is your apprentice?]
[What do you mean, rabbit?]
[I don't know I was just getting rabbit vibes from her.]
[And what are you getting from me?]
[Dog or wolf, depending on your mood.]
I figure honesty is the best policy. If I'm being unspeakably rude, hopefully someone will tell me.
[That's unspeakably rude,] he says, placing a hand to the bridge of his muzzle.
Dang it.
[Hey, I didn't know! I apologise if I've caused offence. You guys don't like being discussed in relation to the animal you resemble?]
[No. We prefer to focus on the things that unite us rather than the things that divide us.]
He pushes himself to his feet and looks around. A lot of the crowd has dispersed, but there are still people in their seats, looking down at the two of us.
[We need to clear out, there'll be another fight soon, so we need to make space.]
[Oh. So these fighting pits get used a lot?]
That wolfish grin again.
[Around the clock.]
There isn't a fancy exit or anything, I just find a relatively empty part of the stands and climb right on over, my opponent hopping along beside me.
[So you aren't a blademaster?] I ask.
[What? Of course not! I'm of the fifth sword, not the tenth.]
So
[You're halfway to a blademaster?]
[In terms of rank, yes. My student is of the fourth.]
[Oh wow. You're lucky I went easy on you then. I wasn't sure how much you could take.]
I can tell he wants to rebut my statement, but after being defeated so handily, there isn't much he can say.
[Can I get your name, by the way? It's getting awkward just to think of you as 'that guy'.]
[You were thinking 'that dog guy', weren't you?]
[I would never! Yes. Yes I was.]
He sort of ripples, and I realise it was an instinct, a dog raising its hackles. Although I make sure to think that thought quietly.
[It's fine,] he mutters. [My name is Barker.]
I carefully don't say anything.
Once we are out of the fighting pit and back on the road, heading towards the field the Colony were setting up in, the not rabbit-Folk joins us again, grinning broadly at her teacher.
They speak to each other, she makes fun of him, at least, I think so, and then we're back to strolling along the path.
[So does this mean I'm going to get new guards? Stronger ones?]
Barker grimaces.
[Yes. I can't exactly help people feel safe if you can kick my backside whenever you want.]
[Oh, I definitely can. Like I didn't even use my middle grade stuff let alone the best stuff.]
[Alright, alright! We believe in a thing called graceful victory.]
[I don't.]
[Okay I guess that's fair. Once we get back towhat in the name of the source?!]
[What?!] I look around, wondering what brought on the sudden exclamation.
Barker points a finger.
[What is that?]
I look where he's pointing.
[That's a nest.]
[It's massive!]
I mean it really isn't. We've been gone for like an hour, at the most, and there's only so much the carvers can do in that amount of time. It's barely fifty metres tall.
[You said we could build a nest, right? They aren't finished yet, but that's a nest. We sleep in them and stuff.]
[It looks like a castle!]
[Come on this is pretty small, as far as nests go, but it does have to fit a thousand of us inside.]
Once again, Barker pinches his brow and sighs heavily.
[I probably should have checked what you were going to build. We're pretty lax when it comes to building code.]
I'd noticed.
[But we aren't this relaxed. You can't throw up something this big without checking with the council.]
[Well, you told us we couldn't go underground, which was smart, so they had to build up. Would it be better if it was wider rather than taller?]
[Maybe? It doesn't matter, I'll have to check with someone regardless.]
He turns and speaks to his student, who offers a short bow before she sprints off at impressive speeds.
[She's going to inform the school of what's transpired here and they'll send someone more suitable to guard you. When they get here, they can make a judgement on that.]
He gestures towards the still growing nest.
[And you should probably expect a lot of challenges going forward. Every student of the sword loves to test their mettle against strong monsters, and word of your victory will be spreading quickly through Freehill.]
[We just came here to trade,] I sigh.
Barker shrugs.
[Winning duels isn't a bad way to advertise. We're the Folk, we admire the strong.]
-x-X-x-
It doesn't take that long for my new guards to arrive, although Barker and his apprentice Fluffles also stick around.
I mean FLUFFLES? It's offensive to mention she has a rabbit nose, but that's a totally fine name to have, apparently.
Whatever. The cultural idiosyncrasies of the Folk don't need to make sense to me; they can, and do, call themselves whatever they want. I'm just here to check out the place and sell some end tables.
My new guard is, I'm pretty sure, a turtle guy named Phil, though of course I don't mention his SHELL, no matter how much I want to. Like, does he have a wax routine for that thing? I'm only wondering because it has such a healthy sheen and I'll be darned if I don't want my carapace to look like that.
With him comes his apprentice, Pete, who is also a turtle, but doesn't have a shell, but does have a sort of turtle face, with the beaked mouth and all that. These people make no sense to me.
It seems clear immediately that they've sent some more powerful warriors. There's a certain aura around them that lets me know they mean business. I'm not willing to be rude about their appearance, but there are other things I'm willing to be rude about.
[So, are you a blademaster?] I ask as soon as introductions are done.
[You want to fight and find out?] he replies.
This guy is clearly pretty old, judging by the long silver beard and moustache he's sporting, but his mental voice is still gravelly and vigorous. He sounds like he'd give Granin a run for his money in a rock chewing contest.
[Not really,] I reply, and I swear he slumps a little in disappointment. [I just had a fight, so I thought I'd relax for a second, get a little private time.]
Although I couldn't move on the ship, I was the centre of attention pretty much all the time. People gawping at me from the other ships, ants checking if I was still alright, birds threatening to drop bombs on me. It got stressful.
Also, it's been too long since I was embraced by sweet, sweet, dirt. Phil looks around, confused.
[You've got twenty ants inside five metres of you. How is that 'private time'?]
He says something to Barker, who whips out his sword, looking a little confused.
[Whoa, whoa. Those are my bodyguards and they do a pretty good job staying out of sight. I can't get rid of them even if I want to.]
"Protectant."
Stubborn, resentful silence.
"Protectant"
"We had to stay on that ship too," she says, not revealing herself. "It was awful."
"Hey, the ship sucks, I'm on your team. What also sucks is getting chopped up by turtle-Folk, so you need to reveal yourself so I can explain who and what you are."
She waits until I'm just about to admonish her again to drop her forget-me-field or whatever, appearing in front of the four Folk.
[This here is Protectant. She's one of the twenty guards who are with me around the clock. Don't worry, we included their numbers in our allowed thousand ants.]
Phil and Pete don't react, but Barker and Fluffles do, seemingly quite annoyed.
[Why didn't you tell us about them?] Barker demands after connecting to me via mind-bridge.
[Why would I?] I reply. [They aren't doing anything other than being hard to spot. Besides, they are included in the manifest that lists the key members of this voyage. Is it my fault you didn't read it carefully?]
I get the feeling the Folk have a 'go with the flow' kind of approach to just about everything except fighting. That appears to include admin. There isn't much they can say to what I've said, so I take the chance to ease my way into the large cavern space that the Colony has opened up for me.
[I'm going to take a nap, then I'll think about having some more fights. Although I do have to warn you, Phil. If you aren't significantly stronger than Barker over there, you might find yourself considerably overmatched.]
The turtle-Folk narrows his eyes as his hand plays across the hilt of his curved blade.
[I think you'll find I'm more than up to the task.]
I miss the blessed relaxation of Ant zen. The dirt in my mandibles, the flowing tunnel air, my siblings by my side. Getting a proper rest on the boat was absolutely impossible, not that I physically needed one. After a brief snooze surrounded by dirt, I feel a hundred times better.
I emerge, stretching my antennae and clacking my mandibles happily. This is the life! Exploring, adventuring, and not having to worry about getting toxified by a race of evil slug-people. Good times!
There's another surprise waiting for me when I emerge.
[Grey! White! Nice to see you again!]
The pair of Folk, one wolfish, one weaselish appear largely unchanged since the last time I saw them, still furry and/or muzzled, with that strange air of dignity about them.
[Anthony, it's a surprise to see you again in these circumstances,] Grey rumbles. [I didn't think the Colony would come into contact with my people for years yet.]
[Hah. We aren't lazy like most people on Pangera. Surely you aren't that surprised. I mean, I bet we were more surprised the first time we met you. Remember? You were all nak]
[I don't think there's any need to go into detail about that,] Grey breaks in hastily, his voice going up several octaves.
To the side, White covers her face as her shoulders shake with laughter.
[You sure? I reeeeeeaaaally wanted to tell everyone about it when I got here. Apparently, blademasters are quite the respected individuals around Freehill. You are a blademaster, aren't you?]
Grey sighs, defeated.
[What do you want, Anthony?]
[Tour around town and help managing fights.]
Grey looks around.
[You only just arrived, how many people want to fight you already?]
I connect to Phil and Pete as well.
[Who wants a fight today?] I ask.
Both turtle-Folk put their hands up. As does White.
[I've got three lined up and I rolled out of the nest about one minute ago. What can I say? Big bad monsters are pretty popular in this town, Grey.]
[Not quite in the way you're thinking,] he says, [but fine. Let's start with the fights, then we can move on to the tour. I didn't have anything planned for today anyway.]
[You're being sarcastic, aren't you?]
[Of course I am. Let's get moving.]