Not being able to see the woman who stole your heart was, to be blunt, the plops. Now, it wouldn't have done Isaac's reputation any good if he'd been seen to be pining, a man had to maintain a certain level of respect amongst his fellow troops, after all.
Yet, deep down, underneath the bluster, the cheer, the jokes and needling, Isaac could admit it to himself. He'd been pining harder than a rustic furniture store.
What was it about Morrelia that captured his mind, body and soul? Was it the spirited, almost enraged glint in her eyes? Was it the soft curl in her short-cut hair? Or was it the intense sensation of her fist slamming into his gut? Who could say? Certainly not Isaac. Yet, when she strode out to fight Anthony, covered in thick plates of armour, he had instantly known it was her, and his heart had soared in his chest.
Now, he knelt down on one knee, gazing up at her with what he hoped wasn't too fawning a look.
He needed to play it cool, after all. As cool as the burning flames of his passion would let him. Slowly, those gauntleted hands came up and removed the helmet, letting it hang off her hip.
And there she was.
Dark hair. Piercing eyes. Uneasy, somewhat disgusted expression.
"Isaac. What in the name of what are you doing down here?"
There was some chatter from the stands to his left, but Isaac paid it no mind. The Legion were sitting over there, and they surely had other things on their mind than disturbing this reunion.
Doing his best to remain casual, Isaac shrugged, then realised it looked silly to shrug while kneeling, so he stood, balanced himself, then casually shrugged once more.
"Oh, you know. I thought if I kept following the big fellow around, then I might catch up with you again one day. How've you been? It's nice to see you again."
Morrelia planted her face in her palm and slowly shook her head. Probably shocked at the depths of his dedication.
"You really came all the way down here just in case you saw me again? You don't even know me!"
"I know how I feel about you," Isaac declared, leaning close. "I know how incredible you are. If you give me a little time, I'd love a chance to detail all of your most attractive qualities."
He winked, smoothly.
"Do you have any lunch plans? I know a place where we can eat and get closer."
It was at that point her fist connected with his face. Isaac soared through the air in a beautiful arc, but before he could crash to the ground, an ant raced from the stands like a flash. When he landed, Isaac fell into a perfect mounted position, astride his partner and magnificent steed, smiling broadly.
~~~
[Oh no! I've killed him!] Morrelia gasped, looking down at her armoured fist.
[What? No. He's fine.]
[I punched him right in the chin! I'm surprised his head didn't explode.]
Yeesh. You're strong, but you aren't that strong.
[There, look, he landed just fine.]
[How!? And he's even sitting in a saddle?!]
As if ants would ever let themselves be saddled. We don't need one!
[Isaac has done a lot of training himself. He's now a proud member of the ant cavalry. You really think one punch would be enough to take him out?]
Morrelia looks a little relieved, though she keeps eyeing Isaac askance.
[Why isn't he moving? And he still has that creepy grin on his face.]
[Oh, he's unconscious for sure. Cavalant is the one keeping him upright.]
"Nice job, Cavalant. Good save."
"Sometimes, this is more trouble than it's worth, Eldest."
"Hey, Isaac's alright. He just gets a little distracted. You better take him back and get someone to check his jaw isn't broken."
"Fine."
Still balancing her rider on her back, she turns and makes her way out of the arena. Morrelia slumps, running a hand through her dark hair.
[Well, that went poorly. I can't believe he hasn't changed since the last time I saw him.]
[Some people are weirdly stubborn,] I advise sagely. [Hey, quick question, why are so many of the Legionaries laughing?]
[They better not be.]
Sure enough, there's quite a bit of pointing and laughing going on, despite how much they try to hide it behind regular Legion stoicism. Infuriated, Morrelia strides off, bellowing at the troops, who suddenly straighten in their seats, looking guilty.
[Catch you later, Morrelia, nice to have a chat.]
She doesn't turn or nod over her shoulder, that would be way too obvious, but I get a little flick of the wrist to acknowledge my words as she walks away. Man, I wonder what the heck Isaac said to her to elicit that sort of reaction? He make fun of her mum or something?
Ah well, my mission has been accomplished, contact with Morrelia has been established, and a chat has been had. Hopefully, next time we can discuss over tea and biscuits, rather than swords and mandibles. It's not convivial, is all I'm saying.
I fight a few more rounds in the arena, just to allay suspicions, before I take my leave and catch up with Eran Thouris outside. Unlike everyone else, she appears openly delighted with how things have worked out.
[Fighting with the Legion has garnered the Colony a lot of sympathy with the Folk,] she informs me. [We've managed to strike far more deals than I expected, given how reticent the Folk can be. This has gone incredibly well!]
Marzban doesn't share her positive outlook. With a hand on the hilt of his blade and a look like an injured wildcat, let's just say the man appears to be a bit on edge. Protectant is probably feeling the same way, now that I think about it.
[So are we done here on Freehill? Any need for further cultural exchange?]
[I think the air is a little tense. If we stay much longer, the danger of a conflict arising will only grow. We have other places to visit and more trades to make. We shall depart tomorrow.]
[Fair enough, I'm happy to get going. A good night's rest won't go astray either.]
One question remains, though.
[What's the Legion going to do when we leave?]
Marzban scowls, but Eran only shrugs.
[That, is something we are going to find out.]
-x-X-x-
When the word comes down that we are planning to ship out, the Colony doesn't muck around. In short order, all ten thousand ants evacuate the nest and the carvers tear it down, flattening out the soil and leaving everything just as we found it. Someone tried to leave a statue standing in the site of the former nest, but I obliterated it the moment I saw it.
I swear
Naturally, the Folk insist on close inspections. We get counted to make sure we aren't leaving anyone behind. Then they carefully check to make sure we didn't tunnel into the ground and leave behind anything suspicious. I'm guessing this is mostly for show. I'd be shocked if they hadn't been keeping an eye on the ground below us the entire time.
With all that done, we are fine to move out and get back on the ships. I am not looking forward to that, but there isn't much choice in the matter. In an organised group, we start to make our way to the docks in an orderly fashion. Of course, it's a little hard not to notice that we aren't the only ones marching through Freehill towards the dock. Less than a kilometre to our right, the Legion are similarly marching. I suppose they plan to follow us around after all.
Sigh.
Nobody is happy about this development. Well, nobody except Isaac. The man can't stop smiling to himself and knuckling his moustache.
[What is with you?] I ask him, exasperated.
The ant cavalryman just smirks up at me and waggles his eyebrows.
[You'll understand when you're older, Anthony.]
[I sincerely hope not.]
Whatever has got him acting this way, he probably needs medicine to get it fixed because this man is clearly ill.
[They're here to kill me. You remember that, right?]
He just scoffs.
[Good luck to them.]
[Hey! Oh. You mean they need good luck.]
[It'll take more than five thousand armoured tin cans to take you down. You've got more lives than a cat that can't count.]
That's a compliment I think?
The brathians are eager to get away and march alongside the ant column, trying to make sure nothing goes wrong. There's plenty of trades to make and business to conduct still here in the fourth, and they are keen to get to it. However, there's something unexpected waiting for us when we reach the docks.
It's the Folk. A lot of them.
They seem to have organised a special sendoff, by the looks of things. There's a stage, and gathered dignitaries. All looking very proper and very formal.
How nice of them! We haven't been here that long, but clearly they appreciated us enough to give us a proper sendoff. I have to say, the Folk have been a very taciturn people for the most part, very stiff, very reserved, but underneath it all, it turns out there's a warmth to these people.
"Eldest, do you know anything about this?" Sloan asks me.
"Not a thing. Whoever put this together did it pretty quickly and pretty quietly. Look, I think the brathians are just as shocked as we are."
It's true, there's a lot of conversation and uncertain looks amongst the Colony's business partners. Whatever is going on here, they weren't advised about it either. This is confirmed when Eran Thouris and Marzban make their way to me and say as much, asking if I know anything about what is happening.
Which I don't.
Answers do come, though, in the form of Grey, the wolf-Folk, who appears next to me as if he just stepped out of thin air.
[Don't do that, man. That's creepy!]
He bares his teeth in an almost-grin.
[My people have arranged a short ceremony. Which is the only sort of ceremony we can really tolerate. Can you communicate to your family for me?]
[Of course.]
It takes a little while to get everyone in place, but we manage it. Luckily we ants don't need to do much, just gather in the right spot, close to the stage, but off to the left a bit. To our right, clearly not welcome to the ceremony, are the Legion, who stand in ordered ranks, radiating disapproval.
Who cares? You smug, armoured super-soldiers.
There are some important-looking Folk up on the stage, and they begin talking, loudly. I have no idea what they're saying, but the large gathering of Folk clearly do. There's a lot of serious faces out there. For my part, along with my siblings, we just stand around, trying not to be bored. Well I stand around trying not to be bored while the rest stand at attention.
Of course, Grey interprets for me, and he expects me to communicate what is being said to the rest of the Colony. I do my best.
"Ah this is some important guy, whose name is super long. Feather something. And he's oh lord he's reading some historical treatise or something? Have mercy."
[Are you passing all of this on?] Grey asks, scowling.
[Of course!]
"This next guy is Fattington the third kind of. He's declaring something about the council, long debates and outlining a decision process. A long decision process. Holy moly.
"This next lady is saying something about us! It's about us! Finally!"
[You seem a lot more interested than before.]
[I'm sure you're imagining things.]
They prattle on for a bit longer until finally they get to the juicy part.
"Oh snap! They've come to a provisional agreement about whether or not the Colony should be classified as a new species of sapient it's a yes! HECK!"
Grey nods in approval at my obvious excitement, revealed by antennae waving and mandible clacking.
[The wind clan are furious, but their actions have pushed the rest of the council toward this decision. From this point forward, the Colony will be treated as a nation of Free people by the Folk. Though it is still a provisional ruling at this point, and can be revoked.]
[Hey, this is fantastic! And look at the legion! They look cheerful!]
Spoiler: they do not look cheerful. Rather the opposite, in fact. Grim-faced and furious, they turn away from the ceremony and begin loading into their ships.
The announcement isn't met with the sort of exuberance I would have expected from the thousands of gathered Folk. There's a bit of mild surprise. Perhaps some vague sense of approval here and there.
[Isn't this kind of a big deal? Why are there so few people here? Why doesn't anyone seem to care?] I ask Grey.
He folds his arms across his chest.
[This is how we are. If you can't swing a sword at it, most of us don't care. My people trust that the right decisions will be made, but aren't that interested in the process.]
[Isn't that sort of leaving yourselves open to corruption?]
[That's what duels are for.]
[Figures. What if you get a super good duelist who's also very corrupt? What then, smart guy?]
He bares his teeth.
[Blademasters are not allowed to be officials. But we are allowed to duel them.]
Oof.
-x-X-x-
Ah, the sea. Lake. Sea-Lake. I hate it. Once again, I find myself aboard a large tub, surrounded by ships, basically trapped and unable to shift myself, lest the boat tip over. It's unpleasant, obviously, and it feels a bit vulnerable. Well, it felt a bit vulnerable, before I had a fleet of anti-monster soldiers bearing down on me at all times.
Now it's downright unnerving.
The Legion remain close by, relatively speaking. Their fleet maintains a reasonable distance from our own, given that fleets of ships take up a fair amount of space and need room to manoeuvre and all that. Abyssal Legion ships, as bulky and intimidating as the troops, keep pace, a couple of kilometres away from the brathian fleet.
[There's no need to worry,] Marzban tries to assure me, despite looking extremely worried. [If they were to make a move against this fleet, it would be construed as an act of war by the Island Conglomerate and the Folk. Possibly by the Mother Tree as well. They wouldn't dare go that far.]
[Don't they hate all of you guys anyway?]
He hesitates.
[That's somewhat true. Even so, I don't think the Legion is interested in stirring up that kind of trouble right now. With the repeated waves, they're stretched thin and have much bigger fish to fry than some ants on a trade mission.]
He certainly hopes so.
[Where are we heading to this time?] I extend the bridge over to Eran, who is leaning against the railing, glaring at the distant ships. [Because I doubt we can expect a friendly welcome in any of the places left on our list.]
She turns to me with a sigh.
[Perhaps, perhaps not. We intend to travel to Desert Basin, the most prominent mountain occupied by the Sand Empire, followed by Greystone, then the Wandering Isle, and finally the Silver City. All of these are major trading hubs, but you are correct, they are all, at least to some degree, hostile to outsiders, and especially to monsters. The Old races tend to be more set in their thinking.]
[I can't say I really blame them. If an Ancient arriving can turn every single ant in the Colony into a wild killing machine, then it's going to cause a few problems, don't you think?]
I'm a little curious as to why the brathians seem so unconcerned with that possibility. Even the Mother Tree seems to have discounted it, letting us move in right next door to her, or perhaps she has some other plan? Come to think of it, how is she going to avoid turning on her own children?
The thought of being turned into some mindless soldier of a bigger, badder monster isn't sitting very well with me, I have to say. The more time passes and the more I think about it, the greater my irritation becomes. If Arconidem thinks he can just show up at Anthome and have the whole Colony fall in line, he's got another think coming!
I hope.
Eran appears thoughtful as she considers me. Eventually, she shrugs.
[There are many things that need to happen which we don't even know are possible before that will become a problem. We are experiencing unusual wave activity, that is definite, but will there be a second Rending? It's impossible to say with certainty. If mana levels return to what they were during that Cataclysm, is that even enough to support the Ancients in their current forms? Perhaps, perhaps not. If mana levels rise that high, and if the Ancients are able to climb, will the Colony be susceptible to their influence? This is another unknown.]
[Well why wouldn't we be? We aren't like the bruan'chii, we are genuine monsters, cores and all.]
From what I was told, a large enough gap in power should make it possible for the Colony to be dominated. Which sucks.
[There are some monsters who are much less vulnerable to the influence of other monsters. Demons are almost totally immune, for example, untameable. Otherwise, the various empires would have raised powerful monsters to help subdue the third stratum and impose some level of order on that wild place. Similarly, the Krath are known to be extremely resistant to monster domination. We don't know why, but it is true nonetheless. Perhaps your Colony will prove to be similar?]
There's something about the way she says it which sends a shiver running over my carapace. They already know. Somehow, someway, the brathians are confident the Colony will be able to resist, at least to some extent, the influence of other monsters.
When did they test us? How did they test us?
But those thoughts aren't what chills me. The demons are resistant because they are, each and every one of them, connected to Arconidem already. The Demon God can dominate them whenever he wants, can drive them to act against their instincts even while locked in the depths of the Dungeon. The Krath may be similar.
Which would mean
I sense the influx of Will from the ants around me, a constant and steady flow of impressions and desires.
Am I doing the same to them? Or am I capable of it? The thought sends a wave of revulsion running through me. I would much rather be a servant of this family than the master of it. I desperately hope my choices haven't put me on a path that gives me a control I don't want to possess.
If the Vestibule and the other attached organs can keep them safe, can keep them free, then that's great. I just hope it stops there.
It takes a few days of extremely quick sailing, but mountain after mountain slides past, and floating islands that rain endless streams of water pass overhead, until we come to a place that doesn't look anything like what we've seen before. In the fourth, a place of endless and vibrant mana of life and light, pretty much everywhere you look is a verdant paradise, except this mountain.
It's a rocky desert. Absolutely dry as a bone.
Home of the ka'armodo.
-x-X-x-
Commerce is the lifeblood of Pangera, so the Conglomerates would have us believe. Perhaps it's even true, but arguing with those scaled merchants and their smug sense of certainty makes me refuse to entertain the idea in public. In the post-Rending world, it was indeed the establishment of trade routes, safe passages carved out between monster nests and Dungeon vents at terrible cost, that once again allowed civilisation to flourish.
Frequently, it was the Abyssal Legion who undertook the task of re-connecting the people of the world. Armoured columns of veteran soldiers, pushing across the surface of Pangera, carving out roads and safe paths, then doing the same within the Dungeon itself.
Some of those paths are used even today, thousands of years later.
In the modern world, trade in the essentials for survival has subsided, though is still prevalent, and luxury goods proliferate in markets across the Dungeon. Obviously, this is a good thing civilisation must advance, after all but sometimes I wonder what would happen if we were to be driven against the wall once more. How quickly could we adapt, if the ground beneath our feet were to shatter and erupt with monsters once again?
This world was broken once. It can happen again.
-Excerpt from the private notes of Altharion Greyhame.
Desert Basin is aptly named. Due to it being a desert. I mean the basin part is probably incorrect? I don't see a dip or depression, after all. The mountain rises high in the distance, towering up a dizzying distance, tens or hundreds of kilometres, to crash into the ceiling above, just like every other mountain.
I don't know how they did it, but the lizards managed to take the lush green paradise of the fourth and turn it into this barren wasteland of stone and sand. I guess they like it this way, and perhaps it's the best defence of all. Nobody else would want to live here, so why would anyone try to take it from them?
Despite the lack of plantlife, there is plenty of activity along the shoreline. The port we arrive at is absolutely bustling with activity. It's not even fair to call it a port, really; it's a straight up city all of its own. There are thousands of ships docked on huge jetties that extend far out into the water.
People of all sorts can be seen moving about, unloading cargo, shifting goods, arguing, drinking, eating, trading. All in all, the Basin appears to be absolutely thriving.
However, as expected, we quickly run into our first hiccup.
A furious Eran Thouris stomps up and down the deck by my right legs, scowling at the still-distant port.
We've weighed anchor and come to a stop, waiting for permission to dock, but are being held up for some reason.
[They're saying our papers need to be double checked,] Eran practically spits, [as if I've ever made a mistake on docking forms in my entire life! The gall of these lizards!]
[If there's no error, then why are they making us wait?]
Marzban points an accusatory finger toward the Legion fleet, which is slowly moving toward the docks, the ships crawling with soldiers preparing to disembark.
[It's politics,] the warrior says acidly. [The ka'armodo want to let their allies in the Legion dock first as a show of support, and to send a statement. The Abyssal Legion is more welcome in Desert Basin than your Colony.]
[If they didn't want us to come, they could have rejected my request weeks ago,] Eran fumes. [If they've wasted my time, the time of the Conglomerate, then there will be hell to pay!]
I wave my antennae in a calming pattern.
[Hey, let's just be cool. They want to make a show of support to the Legion cause, it's fine, that's not a bad thing. Once those guys have unloaded their boats and we've been made to twiddle our legs out here on the water for a few hours, they'll let us dock and everything will be fine.]
[We can't twiddle our legs,] Marzban corrects me.
[Give it a try some time, it's good for your joints.]
My soothing words turn out to be prophetic. The Legion unloads their ships without incident, then we sit around for a while doing nothing, and then the ka'armodo dock masters allow us to approach and start to disembark. Not that we don't get our fair share of unfriendly looks.
In fact, we get way more than our fair share. Despite getting themselves billeted somewhere, the Legion still sends some folks to keep eyes on us. There's a strong contingent of ka'armodo and their setsulah servants around, hundreds of them, making sure everything is on the up and up. Interestingly, they don't seem to care if the entire ant contingent gets onto the land. Perhaps they're more confident they can track us if we tried to go underground?
And of course, 'they' are here as well.
A mind brushes against mine, gentle as a feather, and whispers.
[I bid you welcome, on behalf of the Red Truth.]
Great.
The contact is broken as soon as it's made, but the message has been sent. If the Ancients weren't bad enough, the cultists who worship them are always sniffing around. It seems like they want to make contact at some point while I'm on the mountain, which is going to be interesting. Hopefully they don't get caught and bring down the Legion even harder on my back.
Eran spends hours negotiating with the dock masters as they throw up obstacle after obstacle, but she's annoyed after the stunts they pulled, so she goes all out, smashing through every barrier with her superior abilities and grinding them into the dust to make a point.
When all is said and done, the Colony is once again allowed to make ourselves a cosy little nest away from the main buildings of the port city and the brathians settle in nearby.
Our welcome wasn't exactly friendly, but it was warmer than I expected, all things considered. Legs crossed, we can get out of here quickly after hawking our wares.
-x-X-x-
"What are the lizards playing at?" Morrelia growled.
Commander Chyron chuckled humourlessly as she watched the activity in the port city with unblinking eyes.
"Trying to slither back into our good graces, I don't doubt. Leadership is still furious with them, to put it mildly. It'll be decades before relations get back to anything like what they were."
"Decades. That's not much to them."
"True. Hardly even a blip. They may even view it as a worthy tradeoff for the 'experimental' action they took."
"Are we really withholding support during the waves?"
"Completely. Thanks to that, we've got more resources freed up for trivial, 'save the world' type actions like this one."
From the top of the old Legion fort they currently occupied, the Colony could clearly be seen. The ants were as industrious as ever, putting up their nest in a staggeringly short amount of time. Morrelia felt she could barely blink before the construction was done and hordes of ants ran in and out through the main entrance, carrying in goods from the ships down on the docks. Blink again, and the fortifications had improved, soldiers were patrolling, lookouts were positioned high up the nest and mages had begun controlling the flow of mana in the vicinity.
The Commander noticed the direction of her gaze.
"They'll be a terrible enemy," she nodded toward the still-growing mound of dirt and rock. "They've spun that entire thing out of thin air. Imagine how quickly they could fortify in a Dungeon tunnel and how effectively. Dislodging them will be a nightmare."
An uneasy feeling uncoiled in Morrelia's gut. It was still difficult for her to think of Anthony and his family as an enemy. She hoped it wouldn't come down to fighting, but what choice was there?
"There are millions of them now," she said softly. "They have territory, resources, expertise. At what point does it become too costly for us to try and eradicate them?"
Chyron glanced at her Tribune, then nodded slowly.
"It'll be expensive, and the Legion likely won't act alone. However, getting anyone to put their hand up to do anything other than look after their own backyard is becoming harder and harder. The waves have people spooked, mana levels just surge higher and higher each time. Commander Titus believed another Rending was coming, right from the start. People mocked the idea at first. They aren't laughing now."
Morrelia felt a chill. In the face of another Rending what could they even do? It wasn't as if the original members of the Legionem Abyssi, those founding legendary figures, had actually triumphed over the cataclysm, they had merely outlasted it.
Chyron leaned against the waist-high stone wall, eyes glittering coldly in the light.
"The ka'armodo, the golgari, the tower, church of the path, the golden city, everyone has grown complacent, confident. They were able to fend off the waves well enough. The worst they had to deal with were Krath raids, which were unpleasant but manageable. It's hard to blame them, I suppose. It's been several thousand years since something like this occurred, so perhaps they thought it simply never would again.
"Now things are looking different. Neglected defences are being stretched. Underfunded armies are buckling under the pressure. The Legion has diplomats in every court, council chamber and market square screaming about being ready for the worst. Some are willing to hear it, some are not."
"Are we ready?"
Chyron snorted out a laugh.
"No, of course not! We've been cleaning up everyone else's mess for hundreds of years. Not enough recruits, not enough funds. We can't possibly be in all the places we're going to be needed. Which means some parts of the Dungeon will be let go, perhaps as soon as the next wave. At least our resourcing is getting better as the danger grows closer. People are starting to wake up and remember their old promises."
She hadn't thought it was this grim. She'd known it was bad, that was an inescapable fact, but this bad? There were places in the Dungeon that leaned on the Legion for their defence. If the troops were withdrawn they would surely fall to the monsters. How many thousands, tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, would perish were that to occur?
"Is there a chance the Colony could be used to block some of those gaps for us?" Morrelia wondered out loud. "I've seen the reports, just as you have. They've held against the waves remarkably well, defended every city they've taken and regulated the Dungeon to an incredible degree. They could be a weapon we can use to blunt the waves."
The Commander gave her a warning glance.
"Using monsters as weapons is precisely the reason why we are mad at the lizards in the first place. You're a tribune now, so it's important that you learn and think about the big picture, but I caution you against this line of thought. Aye, I've read the reports. The ants are doing extremely well against the waves, because they're monsters. An endless flood of Biomass and cores. What they did on the third? Those massive demon farms? The waves are strengthening them. If we use the Colony to blunt the waves, we only sharpen the sword that will inevitably come for our own neck."
"The brathians seem confident that the ants are resistant, that they won't turn against us."
Chyron rolled her eyes.
"And did they test them against an Ancient? We have to assume the worst case scenario. Besides, this is all over our heads. We are here for one reason and one reason alone. There is a prospective Ancient over there in that nest and they must not be permitted to descend. That is the end of it."
"Yes, Commander," Morrelia snapped out a brisk salute.
"Good. Now get below and sort out the troops. This isn't shore leave, I want them doing drills and gear maintenance on double shifts. If we're going to be sitting around on our backsides, we may as well ensure our own blade receives a little sharpening."
-x-X-x-
[Look, buzz off, will you?]
[We will not. You must come and meet us.]
[I must, eh? What if I must have a nap? Did you think about that?]
[For the future of your people and ours, we urge you to listen.]
[Not now. Sheesh! There's business to conduct. We'll be here for a few days, take your time. No need to come battering on my mind the moment I settle down.]
Ruthlessly, I cut the contact and my mind constructs fend off the half-hearted attempts to reconnect it. Talk about rude! The cultists of the Red Truth decided to try and arrange a meetup as soon as the Colony finished working on the nest and I managed to slip inside to put my legs up, metaphorically speaking.
They're being sneaky, using extensive methods to mask the hints of their mana from detection, but even so, I think they're taking a staggering risk. If they get caught reaching out to me, a monster subject to the Call, I can't imagine it's going to go well for them. So I continue to rebuff their advances until I can get a better sense for the lay of the land. We only just arrived on this island, and the ka'armodo aren't friendly with the Colony at the best of times, even when there isn't a full Legion sitting next door.
After the Colony gets settled, the brathians make their way over to us to discuss our next steps.
Compared to before, the air around Eran and her followers isn't quite as positive. Faced with the opportunity to negotiate trade all over the fourth stratum, the lead deal-maker for the Brathian Island Conglomerate had been, not cheerful or energetic, but eager, hungry. That hunger remains, but it has clearly been tempered by caution. Marzban is on alert, as are his son and the rest of the soldiers, hands gripping weapon hilts at all times, eyes constantly scanning for threats.
[How's it all looking out there, Eran? I assume there's a long line of eager wizard-lizards ready to do business.]
She frowns at my jovial tone.
[There isn't,] she says. [What you've said shows a remarkable lack of understanding of ka'armodo culture. Don't you know anything about them?]
[Hey, it's not really my fault. Attitudes between them and us are a little frosty. We share a border with them in the third at present, and they don't seem to respect the line we've drawn in the sand. Well not sand. The line we've drawn in the endlessly spawning horde of mini-demons.]
[Yes, I've been getting a sense that they aren't huge fans of the Colony,] she says wryly, and I feel like that might have been a massive understatement. [To clear up your confusion, the ka'armodo themselves do not engage in trade. Ever. They don't buy or sell. They don't haggle. They don't conduct any form of commerce. It's considered unseemly for a ka'armodo of any station to even mention money.]
Yeesh. I knew they were stuck up, but this takes it to a whole new level.
[I assume the setsulah are responsible for doing all of this.]
[Exactly. Every ka'armodo will have a setsulah who is responsible for managing their finances. Even though the product sold at a particular store is made by a ka'armodo, and the profit of that sale goes to them, they are not part of the transaction. That is all handled by their financier, or arkesh.]
So we won't be dealing with the lizards at all? That might turn out to be a good thing. I put that idea to Eran and she shakes her head.
[Sorry to disappoint, but that's not really how it works. The arkesh are all skilled and trained negotiators, but they are not independent. They will do exactly what their bonded-one tells them to do. Some of the wizard-lizards will be directing the talks themselves, looking through the eyes of their setsulah and communicating mentally with them.]
[Then what's the point of separating themselves from the business?! They make a big show of not caring about money, yet they actually care deeply! Isn't that just a catastrophic waste of time and energy?!]
[Yes. They have strange and unfortunate hangups when it comes to wealth. Ka'armodo, especially the older and more powerful mages, love to drape themselves in finery. Expensive tapestries and rugs hanging on their backs. Golden torques, rings, bands on their neck, legs, toes, through their noses, pinched through the skin. It's enough to make a satrap blush.]
That is true. Every ka'armodo I've ever met, and even most of the setsulah, were looking pretty shiny I guess, is the word. That reminds me.
[I'm pretty sure I heard the Colony had found a fairly sizeable gold mine in the third not that long ago. Molten Gold, they were calling the stuff. It's chock full of fire mana and quite red. In a burny sort of way.]
Eran smiles wide.
[Suddenly, I'm feeling much better about our time here. Tomorrow, we will have an initial meeting with a delegation of setsulah arkesh. They'll be inspecting your goods and reporting back to their bonded-ones. A follow up session will be where the real business is conducted.]
[Why do you keep calling them 'bonded-ones'? Aren't they their masters?]
[Again don't let them hear you say it that way. The relationship between a ka'armodo and their setsulah is complex, and rooted in magic. There are many who would call the setsulah slaves, but even they would admit the dynamic is more nuanced than that.]
If she says so. I know when to leave well enough alone, and this is one of those times. The Colony has enough on its plate to worry about. Speaking of which, I wonder how the preparations for invading the fifth are going. I'm going to bash some Krath to relieve the stress this trade mission has brought me.
-x-X-x-
We still aren't allowed into the mountain, or even on it, really. The entire port city, which is still called Desert Basin, skirts the water, sticking to the flattest, outermost land on the island.
That doesn't mean it isn't built on sand, though. Everything around here is sand. The lizards like what they like, I suppose.
When the time is right, the brathian come get us. The Colony starts buzzing about, loading up the supplies, and we proceed in a neat and orderly procession to a grand bazaar. Every beam and structure here is formed from glittering, mana-rich minerals, and honestly, it looks stunning. This is the first sign I've had that the ka'armodo love of finery has crossed over to their architecture as well.
From what I recall, their holdings in the third are fairly normal? Demon cities are basically all the same, and at a distance, the only additions the lizard wizards make are to put up a few buildings for themselves.
Perhaps they don't bother all that much in the third. Most people don't, as I understand it. Maintaining anything down there is a massive pain in the thorax. Why would you put up a golden statue just for it to erode in a matter of months? That ash is not to be messed with.
Within the bazaar, I see a lot of business going on: stalls, traders, sailors, the works. Only difference is all the sellers are setsulah. But this isn't what we came for. Moving confidently through the bustle, Eran leads the way until we reach an enormous tent thing? A pavilion? Sure, let's go with that.
It's comically massive, the entrance is so large I can fit through without having to crouch, and it's in here we are going to present our wares to the arkesh. Without much to do, I plonk myself down in the centre of the space, which is ironically the most out of the way spot, since all the stalls are being erected around the outer edge. Tungstant, Smithant, Sloan and the other leaders are consulting closely with Eran and her mages about every aspect, making sure they put the best mandible forward possible for what these particular clients are going to want to see.
Which means the jewels, rugs, tapestries, fine furniture, statues and the like are going front and centre. Unfortunately, the Colony doesn't make much finery. We don't have much use for gems and shiny metals, usually fobbing them off to the cities.
However, a few enterprising ants decided to try and make some nice things for the Queens. Rings to go on their legs, or around their antennae. Wrappings woven with glittering thread to drape over their carapaces. Even necklaces and such. Oddly enough, some of it was even accepted. Mainly because the stuff is considered useless to the rest of the Colony, so the Queens don't feel selfish taking it.
However, the taste of the Queens is modest.
[Don't you have anything more bedazzling?] Eran asks as she and the Council members fuss over the displays. [The ka'armodo are not shy about flaunting their wealth. The bigger and more ostentatious, the better!]
Smithant shakes her head, sending her antennae waving.
[No. The few jewellers we have produce work for the Queens, and they do not like to look different from their children. Small, tasteful ornaments as a gesture of appreciation are acceptable to them. These golden torques and diamond nets are they would not be welcome. We simply don't make anything like that. There wouldn't be any point.]
[The point would be to sell them to the ka'armodo.]
[We don't make anything solely to sell it.]
[You do now!]
[Whoa now. Cool it.]
I break into the conversation which was getting a little more heated than necessary. I think having the Legion breathing down our necks is stressing everyone out, brathian and Colony alike. They're still here now. No sooner did our delegation leave the nest than they marched out to follow us. I've no doubt they're in position outside the pavilion right now, watching, waiting.
For me.
I'm the guy with a target on his back, why am I the one least stressed about it?!
[Let's all remember there are cultural divides between us.] I focus on Eran. [We don't make anything for ourselves, but for the Colony as a whole. Other than a small number of carvers who saw human jewellery and decided to try and make some for the Queens, there has never been any purpose to making it. So we haven't.]
Now I focus on Smithant.
[If our metalworkers know that producing these sorts of goods will mean cores flowing into our nests and empowering our brood, then they will make some, we won't even have to ask them. You and I both know that. It's not making things to please the whims of the lizards, it's turning metals and gems we don't want into cores that we desperately do.]
Both of them settle down a bit and I turn my eye to the somewhat meagre displays we have put up. It's not that impressive. We have too few pieces and none of them are that large. Eran is trying to make do with what we have to display the range of our skills, but there just isn't enough there.
[This isn't going to work. Everything is spread out too much. The stalls look like someone has already come through and bought everything. We need a different approach.]
[Like what?] Eran asks a little snippily.
I'm probably stepping on her toes a little. Do brathians have toes? I think so. She's wearing shoes right now, so I can't tell. I'm guessing the best way to sell to the ka'armodo is to turn up with stalls absolutely groaning with glittering trinkets. Some lizard-wizard will see it, start drooling and instruct their arkesh to sweep up the lot.
[Let's go for exclusivity. One item per stall. Take the most finely crafted pieces, like that one, and that one. Set the displays so only one person can see it at a time, make them line up. Our designs are probably too modest for ka'armodo tastes, even if the sizes are right, but then we can tell them about our 'custom design service'. If they like what they see, but not enough to purchase, we can offer to create modified pieces to their specifications.]
Eran Thouris nods thoughtfully.
[Commissioned work is highly prized among the ka'armodo, but not all can afford it. With the kind of prices the Colony can charge, there will be many clients who are willing to pay for custom jewellery.]
[Then we just need to give it a little veneer of exclusivity and class, even if it isn't real. They'll be falling over themselves to put orders in.]
Soon enough, the entrance to the pavilion is pulled wide open and a flood of setsulah enter, eyes peeled for deals their 'bond-partners' will approve of.
The game is on.
-x-X-x-
So now I sit in the centre of the pavilion, while all around me, eager arkesh are trying to strike deals while ants are doing their best to display their works and show their skills.
It's kind of interesting, this is my first chance to get a good look at the setsulah for a long, long time. Certainly this close up. They really are a bit of an odd people, and I really can't help but wonder how the heck they came to be. They're largely humanoid, two legs (bleh), two arms, one head, all that stuff, but with distinctively reptilian features. They wear long hooded cowls for the most part, all the way down to their feet, with long floppy sleeves. Even in this heat!
Because it is hotter here than it should be, hotter than anywhere else I've been in this stratum. I'm starting to get a sneaking suspicion that the ka'armodo have installed the equivalent of floor heating on this island, which would be an absolutely absurd thing to do. I mean, it would take an unmentionable amount of power, and be an enchanting and engineering feat that, quite frankly, boggles the mind.
But I'm starting to get the feeling that the lizard-wizards care enough about their own comfort to go for it. They already altered this whole mountain from a lush jungle paradise into a desert, for goodness sake.
Looking at these setsulah arkesh moving amongst the stalls, it isn't hard to see where their priorities lie. Any stall with luxury items is surrounded by a horde of robed figures politely elbowing each other out of the way. The best fabrics almost cause a fistfight when they come out and the cheaper stuff is straight up ignored. Anything, anything made out of rare and precious materials is a hot commodity. I don't know why an ant made an end table from water infused wood, and I don't know why a giant lizard would want one, but here I am, watching two arkesh almost hissing at each other in fury as they try to get their claws on it.
For a change, nobody seems interested in me, which is a welcome surprise. I loom over the entire crowd, yet am content to be ignored. It's fun watching all the goings on. Especially over at the jewellery. As soon as the setsulah realised only one person could view the items at a time, they lined up like the British at a scone sale.
Gweheheheheh.
As I revel in the success of my scheme, I feel a poke at my mind and look down to see a single arkesh standing in front of me, looking up. I glance around, but I can't see anyone else looking to interrupt. The ants are all busy and none of the setsulah seem interested. Why not, I suppose? I allow the contact.
[Hey there! Any particular reason you want to talk to me rather than take a gander at all the amazing ant-produced goods on display? Your masbond-partner won't be mad that they missed out?]
The robed figure bows very slightly toward me.
[My name is Ammon'sil. Rassan'tep sends his greetings.]
Rassan Rassan that that's ringing a bell. Wait a second.
[Ah heck. Rassan'tep is uh he he's fond of vermillion honesty. Am I right?]
Ammon'sil's eyes widen slightly and he surreptitiously glances around. Is he worried someone saw through my subterfuge? Impossible!
[He is indeed a great patron of truth,] Ammon'sil confirms, a little brusquely. [and he wished to welcome you to the Desert Basin, though doing so in person would be far too dangerous. However, the next showing will happen within the mountain, and he hopes to speak to you there.]
They're going to let us inside after all? I'm a little shocked. It'll be nice to get in and have a peek, though. I'm curious what it's like.
[Is it really necessary to take that kind of risk? I mean, I already have some worm friends hanging around. Is there something he has to say I can't learn from them?]
[It's always better to get your information from more than one source,] Ammon'sil says, eyes narrowing. [And there is competition amongst your supporters. Some will conceal from you in order to spite the others. We know you are now subject to the Call. Have they told you who is responsible? Have they told why the Ancients seek to complete their circle?]
Well being honest.
[No, they haven't.]
He nods, sagely.
[Doubtless they believe they have good reasons to keep such knowledge from you. However, perhaps you wish to decide for yourself whether or not you should know. Rassan'tep promises to answer your questions, if you will agree to meet.]
[Tell him I'll think about it.]
With another micro-bow, Ammon'sil is off, headed straight for the end table, I notice, leaving me stewing in my thoughts.
Knowledge about the Ancients. Do I even want to know? Will it make any difference at all to know who stuck the hook in my guts? Or why they want me? If I had a chance to speak to those ancient monsters, I'd just tell them to buzz off. Leave me and my family alone! I'm not interested in their nonsense, their needs and desires.
I have a family! All I want is to see them survive and thrive, so I can retire and tickle grubs all day. I want my mother to be able to have her hunts and fight to her heart's content, secure within the borders of Colony territory. I want Vibrant to run, Brilliant to experiment and Solant to scheme in safety.
All of that would be so much easier to achieve if the Ancients didn't exist at all.
-x-X-x-
[It went well, possibly not as well as we could have hoped, but better than I expected.]
Eran paces around me in the pavilion as the Colony takes down their stalls and begins to pack away the goods once more. It's a lot of effort, but ten thousand ants make short work of laborious tasks like these.
[Can you elaborate on that for me?] I ask and Cobalt, standing next to me, nods as well. [I need a bit more of a breakdown than that.]
[Of course.]
Eran holds out her hand and one of her retinue is ready and waiting with the documents she desires.
[Final contracts weren't agreed on today, but we can judge by the level of interest shown by the arkesh what they are likely to bid on. I know for a fact that several ka'armodo mages were looking through their setsulahs' eyes, but most were content to wait until their envoys return to report on what they saw.
[In terms of the goods that garnered the most interest, there weren't any surprises. Luxury items, rare materials, the jewellery trick worked exceptionally well, thank you, Anthony, furniture, carvings, rugs and tapestries. Basically all the more artisanal, hand-crafted items. Food and drink were ignored almost entirely, as was anything made with non-infused wood or stone. Ingots, weapons, armour and the like were also largely ignored, which surprised me a little. I'd hoped to make at least some inroads there.]
As Eran runs her eyes down the pages handed to her, Marzban steps up to expound upon that last point.
[Ka'armodo obviously can't use weapons and armour made for humanoids and prefer to forge their own, however they are known to purchase some arms for their Setsulah. It isn't a large amount of trade, barely a trickle, but we'd hoped the competitive prices and relative quality of the Colony's work would draw some interest.]
I suppose it makes sense that they make their own armour for themselves. There aren't exactly any other experts in forging plate and vests designed to fit around giant lizards whose body shape changes when they reach a certain age.
I mean, ka'armodo are big. Not as big as I am, obviously, I tower over the little darlings now, but even so big. When I've seen them moving around the port town, they just straight up carry the setsulah on their backs, for crying out loud. I've seen them crawling along with up to ten people just sitting on a rich-looking carpet, holding onto a golden ring lodged into their scales.
Any sort of protective gear for a creature that big is going to be expensive. If a lizard-wizard is going to hand over that sort of money, might as well give it to the ones who know how to meet their needs the best: other ka'armodo.
[It's still a little suspicious,] Eran mutters, frowning. [They barely paid attention to the raw metal ingots, stone and woods at all. It isn't as if they couldn't buy those and then forge them, and the Colony's prices are more than competitive.]
[Possibly they were sending a message?] Marzban suggests. [For trinkets and such, they are happy to purchase from outside, but anything more serious than that]
[They'll stick to their trusted partners. You could be right.]
More anti-monster bias?
[Who do they usually trade with?]
I'm expecting them to say the Legion, but I'm surprised on that front.
[With the Stone Empire and the Silver City, mostly. Those are longstanding relationships that go back thousands of years. Even we struggle to get into the market sometimes.]
Huh.
With everything packed away, the Colony picks itself up and we march once more through the crowded port of the Sand Basin. With a giant, mythic monster at the lead, the roads open up pretty quickly, which is nice, and we make good time.
Of course, who do we find waiting back at the nest, overlooking the entrance? The Legion, of course. Despite wearing full armour, I recognise Morrelia in the group of twenty or so. They aren't too close to the nest, but they're close enough to be noticeable. I suppose the commander wants to remind us that they're always watching. As if I didn't know.
Their stupid mages are always trying to slither their mana into the nest or into my general vicinity. I'm not sure exactly what they're doing, possibly using light mana to spy? Our own mages, as well as myself, are constantly on alert and monitoring fluctuations in energy around us, so we snuff out these attempts whenever we find them.
Of course, mana-masking exists and it's possible to go to great lengths to conceal one's magic. Who can possibly say if we manage to get them all? Perhaps if we had Brilliant along, we'd be able to be more confident, but it's not worth pulling her out of the nest for something like this. She's got important stuff to work on.
My siblings pile into our temporary abode while I stand watch over the front, then I decide to take a sneaky risk.
I mean, Morrelia is right there. Helmet or not, I may as well attempt to reach out and say hello. I demand polite greetings!
Marshalling all of my Cunning, I take hold of the mind mana, twisting it in on itself, weaving the threads so fine they become like strands of silk. With the utmost care, I slither my mind bridge through the air, snaking around obstacles, taking the scenic route, until I finally reach her helmet.
Ever so gently, I poke my magic against the enchanted metal, knocking against her shielded mind. With such a finely woven bridge, there's no chance I can punch through her defences, but if she takes it off, I can make the connection.
Prod-prod prod-prod prod-prod.
I keep tapping away until finally I see her shoulders slump ever so slightly. For a short moment, she brings her hands up to her head, removes her helmet and brushes her hair out of her eyes before lowering it back down, but not quite pushing it down all the way.
Of course, I seize my chance!
[Hey, Morrelia! How's things?]
[Are you trying to get me killed?]
-x-X-x-
Holy. Moly.
I freeze in shock and surprise for so long that the ants behind just start climbing up my legs and over my back. When they run into my antennae, I come back to myself and start moving again, still boggling at the ridiculous sight in front of me.
From our position, the road begins to slope down again, towards a basin? Filled with a desert? I guess? It's absolutely massive. It's been kind of hard for me to visualise just how much space these mountains take up on the inside, but this makes it fairly easy.
They're big. Really big.
Somehow, the ka'armodo managed to carve out the entire thing and turn it into one giant desert playground, without the mountain collapsing on their heads. I guess they aren't wizard-lizards for nothing. As mages, the big scaled snobs are respected the world over.
The basin itself isn't just a barren, sandy wasteland either, oh no. Most of it is taken up with a truly massive city, with more towers and residences climbing up the walls on the mountain interior, much like Rylleh. Goodness knows how many ka'armodo actually live here, but it could be as many as a million, given all the space they've got, along with their setsulah retinues. I'm starting to realise why Desert Basin is considered such a hub. It's incredible.
Fortunately, we don't have to go too far to reach our destination. Another pavilion, even larger and more lavish than the last one, has been erected close to the entrance and away from the main city. We find it and begin setting up, but it isn't long before a sinuous thread of mind magic slithers through the air and prods me.
I don't let it connect, but rather begin to trace it back to the source. The caster has gone to great lengths to conceal their location, sending their spell winding through twisted paths, using only just enough mana to bridge the gap, inverting and hiding it as much as possible.
But, I suspect they didn't go all out, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to manage it. Turns out, Rassan'tep isn't all that far away. In fact, he's directly beneath me.
"I'm just going to dig a quick tunnel," I announce to the room.
"Is that a wise idea, Eldest?" Sloan scurries over to ask. "We've been expressly forbidden from digging on our own."
"This one should be fine. I'll be back in a few minutes."
As much as we're being watched while here in the Desert Basin, there aren't even any setsulah here inside the pavilion with us, let alone a ka'armodo. Besides that, I think Rassan'tep is just as interested as I am in keeping this face-to-face a secret.
With a flex of my many minds, I summon my earth mana and begin to peel away the sand beneath my feet, revealing the rock beneath, which I also tunnel through. I don't have to go far, only a few metres, before the stone opens up into a chamber below. I clear just enough space to squeeze myself through and head down, sealing the tunnel shut again behind me.
I find myself in a dimly lit, secretive-looking space, with braziers burning low in the corners.
As expected, Rassan'tep is here, the massive ka'armodo, with his arms folded across his chest ish bit, along with his full retinue of setsulah. As his kind prefers, the lizard-wizard is fully decked out in golden decorations; rings, torques, bracelets, all thick and gleaming, adorn him just about everywhere they can. In fact, I think he has a new nose ring, something I haven't seen on any other ka'armodo.
Once again, that barely noticeable thread of a mind-bridge reaches out to me, and this time I accept it.
[Hey Rassan'tep, how've you been? Not rustling termites at all, are you?]
The old lizard flares his nostrils, eyes narrowing.
[I hope you have not come to speak to me of termites. There are ancient beasts of unfathomable power in the deep beneath us, waking for the first time in centuries. It would be a waste to spend time conversing about those things.]
He's not wrong. Termites still suck, though. Hate those guys.
[Alright, fine. I know Arconidem is awake, which should be exciting for you. In fact, I saw him, kind of. Freaky-looking thing.]
The ka'armodo grows still, as do his servants, clueing me in that they too are part of this conversation.
[You saw, the Demon God?] he asks carefully.
[Well, in person? No. He sort of projected himself via ambient mana. I don't think I can explain it better than that. Looked like a demon larva, except big. And on a chair. Throne. Thing. Except the chair is alive. No wait, the chair is part of him, and he is alive, so the chair is too. Alive.]
Somehow, the ancient mage manages to make sense of what I'm trying to say.
[Yes, your description matches what we know of the Demon God. He appears as his children, the larval form of the demons, except seated upon a great throne, and colossal in size.]
Do I feel like there's a little bit of reverence in the eyes of this lizard and his lizard-adjacent servants as they look at me? I hope not, holy moly.
[Look, I know you're big supporters of Arconidem, or worship him, but I have to say, I'm not a fan. What he's doing to the demons? Forcing them to fight each other? Lame. Big time.]
That doesn't go down so well, but Rassan'tep manages to restrain himself.
[Let us not discuss the relationship between the Demon God and the demons. That goes back a long time, and is more complex than you might think. Let us instead turn to the knowledge that you crave. We do not have long, and I am certain you have many questions.]
-x-X-x-
[Me? Get you killed? Of course not!]
[Anthony I'd ask what you think would happen to me if I were caught conversing with monsters in secret, but you probably didn't think about it at all, did you?]
Guilty.
[I'm cutting the link.]
[Wait! Give me a couple of minutes to talk and I'll prevent Isaac from running up to meet you.]
Silence on the other end for a few long seconds.
[He doesn't know I'm here, does he?]
[He's already on his way.]
Judging by the speed he's moving, he's on foot rather than on his cavalry partner. I doubt she'd be willing to carry him just so he could talk to an old friend. For whatever reason, I get the sense Morrelia doesn't want to talk to him, though, so I can leverage this to my advantage.
[Did you know he had flowers delivered to the Legion fort addressed to me?]
[Uh, no. How would I know that? Were they nice flowers?]
[That's not the point!]
What is the point of sending flowers over? I mean, I guess they're nice to look at and smell? I suppose? Whatever, I don't have much time and I don't want to spend it talking about Isaac and his odd behaviour.
[Look, I just wanted to talk more about why you're here.]
She immediately grows more serious.
[The Legion is here for you, Anthony,] she sighs. [They won't sit idly by and let you descend any further. They do not want to let the Ancients have what they want.]
[I know that much. Even if nobody seems to know exactly what the Ancients want another member for. I don't suppose you have any idea?]
[I don't. I'm not even sure the Legion does. Possibly they do, but it's also plausible they found out what the Ancients want and oppose it on principle.]
I can almost hear the wry smile in her tone.
[We aren't great fans of the Ancients in the Legion.]
[What, you think I am? Monsters who get the Call are threats? What about the poor monster? Wasn't Garralosh basically driven mad by it?!]
[You'd know better than I would on that front. I suspect Garralosh was more than a little mad even before she got the Call. Don't you?]
Sadly enough, I agree. I didn't get anything like a complete look through her mind, but she was a crazy croc, no question.
[Well, it sucks. Unequivocally. Completely. Not a fan. And it's super irritating that I don't even know why.]
If the Legion doesn't know, then I have only one more option. Looks like Rassan'tep might be getting his meet and greet after all. I have questions, dammit!
[I did want to say this, though, while I have you. I spoke to the brathians about the Legion's concerns, and they don't seem all that fussed. They said they tested the Colony against outside influence and we passed with flying colours. It also appears as though they don't take your concerns about the cataclysm recurring quite that seriously.]
[The opinion of your brathian allies isn't shared by the leadership of the Legion. I'm sorry, Anthony, I don't think anything is going to be able to shift their views on this. The hunt for monsters experiencing the Call has gone on for over a millennium, and threats like the Colony have always been something that they take seriously.]
Nards. Well, it was worth a shot. I guess it was never going to be this easy to diffuse the Legion threat, but an ant can get their hopes up.
[Alrighty. Thanks for the chat, anyways. Take care of yourself, Morrelia, and come visit Enid if you get a chance, she'll be delighted to see you.]
A moment of hesitation.
[I would love to.]
The contact breaks as her helmet settles fully into place and I turn to walk into the nest.
"Whoa there, Isaac. Where are you going?"
"To meet with my destiny."
The man is striding forward, a huge grin on his face, and if I'm not mistaken, he's taken the time to wax his moustache. Clearly he's in a good mood. I hate to do it to him.
"Your pheromone language control is complete garbage, man. How long have you been able to speak through scent? Time for an extended lesson. Let's go."
"Wait. What the plops? Why are you picking me up? Great One? HEY! ANTHONY!?"
~~~
The next day, we are out and moving once again, this time heading in totally the opposite direction. Away from the water, away from the bustling docks, we move in a long, flawless column toward the mountain.
Today we are booked in for our second showing. This time, those arkesh who were keen on making a purchase and possibly engaging in a distribution contract on behalf of their ka'armodo will be allowed to do so. Or, more likely, the ka'armodo will direct them to do it via mind magic.
Once again, I find myself at the head of the column, taking long, slow steps so everyone else can keep up with me. This trip confirms for me that I'm really not all that fond of sand. Something of my weight, with such relatively small 'feet', isn't designed to walk on sand! My legs sink in more than a metre before finally gaining purchase and it's exhausting trying to get enough strength to push myself forward.
Eventually, I overcome the problem by creating a personal gravity well and lifting myself upwards and forwards just enough to make travel easier. This is probably why the ka'armodo have such wide, flat feet.
We see a lot more of the wizard-lizards as we move up the mountain. Huge towers of sandstone rise up the slope as it starts to climb, and there are ka'armodo everywhere. However, we aren't here for those towers. Oh no. We are going inside the mountain, and I'm super keen to see what it's like in there.
What sort of tunnels have they formed? I'm picturing lots of magma pools and hot rocks for the lizards to lounge on, that sort of thing. Eventually, sand gives way to a wide, flat road and I gratefully step onto it. The path starts to cut directly into the mountain, and soon I'm embraced by stone. Ah, so nice to be properly underground again.
Comfy, heated rock on all sides, feels just like the Colony's mountain.
But then, shockingly quickly, I'm once again no longer surrounded. In fact, it's shockingly open in here!
Eyes, boggling, I can't help but clack my mandibles in awe. Those crazy lizard-wizards actually did it.
Desert Basin. It's not because they sand-ified the whole island. It's because they hollowed out the inside of the mountain! What the heck!?
-x-X-x-
[You've hinted that there are deep and powerful secrets or whatever. Things that Granin and his fellow worm-enthusiasts don't want to tell me. Is that a fair statement?]
[A serviceable summation,] the ka'armodo nods. [The followers of Yarrum are more conservative when it comes to spreading certain truths. Those of my order are known to be more open.]
[Hence the name, I suppose.]
[Yes, the Red Truth, granted to the founder of my cult by the Demon God himself, thousands of years ago during the cataclysm.]
[So all of the various cults are aware of this secret?]
[To some extent. As I said, some of the cults are more cautious, only sharing the knowledge with a few within the inner circle. It is possible your friend Granin does not even know what I am about to tell you.]
Ancient knowledge that Granin doesn't possess? I suppose I never even considered the possibility that not all cultists are equally informed. Obviously, I'm going to have to run all of this back past the big rockhead the next time I see him, but for now I'm keen to get some answers, finally.
[Well, I suppose I have two main questions. First, why the heck the Ancients are so keen to get another member of the club. Second, who specifically is responsible for the Call. I want to take a bite out of them.]
The setsulah, Ammon'sil, doesn't respond well to my casual threats against the Ancients.
[You had best show some res]
Rassan'tep snorts, and the robed servant freezes on the spot.
[I apologise for this behaviour, Anthony. I will speak to my setsulah about proper conduct at a later time.]
My antennae wave a little uncomfortably.
[Look, don't be hard on the guy. The Ancients are essentially gods to you, right? I probably shouldn't run my mouth so much. I'm just not all that happy about having the Call applied to me. It's rather painful.]
And I FULLY intend to bite whoever is responsible.
[You are correct, the Ancients are godlike beings to us, and if we seek to push you up to that high seat, then you too are worthy of a measure of respect. For you to threaten or insult them is different than if I were to do so; after all, you may become their peer.]
The lizard-wizard gives himself a brief shake, sending his jewellery rattling. Once he settles, the servants around him move quickly to ensure all of the tapestries, rugs and jewellery hanging off him are properly aligned before stepping away again.
[Though we are not in a position to ask the Ancients directly, we believe that only one of them is responsible for applying the Call to promising monsters. That is Odren the Father of Monsters.]
Huh. Just like that?
[Odren, eh? Why do they call him the father of monsters anyway?]
[His cultists would tell you he is the first monster ever spawned within the Dungeon, though nobody else shares that particular belief. Certainly, he is amongst the oldest of your kind.]
[He is not my kind. Unless he's an ant. Is he an ant?]
[No.]
Then screw that guy.
[Odren has mastered a form of magic closely related to the Dungeon itself, turning pure mana into monsters. Using these techniques, he is able to send his awareness spiralling through the Dungeon, using the veins of mana that touch every rock, every pebble and every grain of sand to observe monsters, no matter where they are.
[What criteria he uses, we do not know, nor can I explain more of the method involved, because as far as I am aware, Odren is the only one to utilise it. To know more, you would have to find members of his cult, The Cult of Origins.]
That's kind of creepy. He's keeping tabs on every monster in the Dungeon? I doubt it. If anything, he's probably latching onto monsters who are stronger than those around them, or something along those lines. I refuse to believe one monster could process that much information. There are billions of demon larvae alone!
[Alright that was fairly painless. What about the other question?]
[This answer, the Red Truth itself, is dangerous knowledge. Are you sure you want to know?]
Asking me this now? I mean, under normal circumstances, I don't really care what the Ancients want, because why should I? Now that I'm here, though? Asking this is just insulting!
[Spit it out, Rassan'tep. Don't try and act all spooky and mysterious at this point.]
[To answer your question fully, we must discuss the formation of the Dungeon itself. We know that people lived on the surface of this world long before the Dungeon opened itself. Our understanding of that period of history is sourced only from the scraps of knowledge given by the Ancients themselves. They were the only creatures to have survived from the early formation of the Dungeon.
[It began in the centre of Pangera, where the mana is thickest, and slowly spread its tendrils outwards. Monsters born in those times were powerful, emerging from the thickest mana in the planet, and they quickly began to fight amongst themselves. Battles that would shake continents and topple mountain ranges were common occurrences. Only the mightiest survived and began to carve out their own territory.
[So it was for many, many centuries. Very rarely was a newcomer able to rise up and overthrow one of these tyrants, the early Ancients, but it did happen. Slowly, the Dungeon expanded outwards, adding new strata, until eventually it reached the surface.]
I know all of this, pretty much. Ancients stuck in the middle of the world, unable to rise, as the Dungeon slowly expanded, until the mana surged, and the Rending began.
[I mean, this much is basically common knowledge, right? Well, common amongst the people who know about this stuff, anyway.]
[I am merely providing context. For many in this world, the Rending was the time all of modern history began. The old kingdoms were torn apart by a flood of monsters and the Dungeon Age began, new empires rising from the ashes. However, at that time, the Truth had already been discovered.]
Each of the setsulah looks solemn as their master speaks of the Truth. Even Rassan'tep, expressionless scale-face that he is, has an air of gravity. Even I feel like being serious.
[The Red Truth, as told to us by Arconidem during the Rending, is simple. This world is a prison. Despite all of their tremendous power, the Ancients have been unable to breach the wall that separates this place from the rest of existence. They are trapped here, as are all of us.
[When another arises who can match their strength, the Ancients believe they will succeed. By pooling the power of the twentieth Ancient, they will shatter the walls of this prison, and escape into the universe beyond.]
-x-X-x-
My conversation with Rassan'tep is short, and soon I have to open up the way and slip back into the pavilion, head buzzing with what I've learned. This is the truth of the Ancients? They've had enough of Pangera and want to get the heck out?
Why? This place seems fine!
I mean, would I remove centipedes from the spawn pool for monsters? Yes, yes I would. And will. Other than that, people seem to be getting along alright.
And what happens to Pangera when this dimensional boundary is broken? Is the planet fine and the Ancients just buzz off, or does it explode!? Rassan'tep was pretty vague on this point, and I think I would want a definitive answer before I decided to worship Arconidem. I mean, is the Demon God trying to blow up Pangera or not? Fairly darn fundamental question!
Surrounded by my family once more, watching them skitter about, setting up stalls, precisely laying out the fruits of their labours, I certainly want an answer to that question!
"Sloan! Can I get a minute?"
"Sure thing, Eldest! Just give me a moment."
She finishes whatever conversation she was having and comes over to me, antennae waving furiously.
"I'm extremely busy right now, Eldest, I hope this won't take long."
"This isn't a battle, you know. It's shopping."
"The longer we are on this expedition and the more I speak with Eran Thouris, the more similarities I see. It may have been a mistake to leave Solant behind, she would have learned much."
Probably, but she has plenty to do where she is right now.
"I'll be brief then, I need to talk to Brilliant. Urgently."
Sloan's demeanour becomes grave.
"She can come to us, as I'm sure you know, but it may cause problems if an ant is detected jumping into the middle of a ka'armodo stronghold without a gate."
She has a good point, and I hesitate for a moment, but no, this is too serious. If the lizard-wizards get all bent out of shape, then I'll deal with the fallout when it happens.
"This is important, Sloan. Send word. I need to talk to her as soon as possible."
"Very well, Eldest. I'll get it done."
If anyone is going to be able to verify what Rassan'tep had to say, it's her. I need that confirmation. Just because Arconidem, who is a butthead, it must be stressed, said this two thousand years ago, doesn't mean it's actually true. In fact, why would it be true? The big demon was probably lying through his teeth and the Ancients have some other scheme in mind for which they need another member.
"Hey, Eldest. It is I! Brilliant!"
Gah!
"Dammit! Where the heck did you come from?!"
The little ant gives me a superior look and I swear my antenna moves without my conscious control.
THWACK!
"Ouch! What was that for?!"
"Uh, disciplinary correction. Never mind that!"
"But my head hurts."
"Good. I have an important question. More than a question, a mission. A task. This will stress your mind and challenge your capabilities to their limits. Are you ready for the ineffable truths I am about to reveal?"
Brilliant practically quivers with excitement.
"Of course! I was born ready! Did you forget who I am? I'm BRILLIANT!"
"I'll connect a mind bridge, because this is sensitive information I'm not sure everyone in the Colony should know."
[You getting me?]
[Loud and clear.]
[Good. Now, I have learned, from an ancient order of hidden scholars, that this world is a PRISON!]
.
.
Not much reaction. I decide to add emphasis.
[DUN, DUN, DUNNNNN!]
Brilliant continues to stare up at me expectantly.
[Soooooo. Apparently there's some sort of dimensional barrier thing? That cuts Pangera off from the rest of the universe? Or something? And the Ancients really want to break it but can't?]
She's still looking at me, waiting.
[So I want you to work out if that's true.]
[It is.]
.
[Right.]
I feel like I'm missing something here. I told her the secret truths of the world, I'm sure I did. Where is her reaction? She loves this stuff?!
[What's the secret mission, Eldest? Don't tease me any further! My mind is burning with curiosity! Tell me! Tell me now!]
She's so excited she starts prodding my leg with one of her antenna
[Wait, just hold up a second. What do you mean "it is"? You already know this world is a prison?]
[Well, I know there's a huge dimensional wall that locks it off from somewhere. It's present in every dimension and forms a sphere around the planet. So prison, sure, makes sense.]
She slumps.
[Wait, that's what you wanted me to find out?]
[Yes! This is meant to be a big secret that not many people know about!]
[Oh! Oh Well it's one of the first things I learned when I started dimension hopping. Smacked headfirst into the wall and almost died! Good fun.]
I feel like I have a headache coming on.
[If nobody knows this, then how did you figure it out so quickly?]
[I'M BRILL]
THWACK!
[IANT! Ouch!]
Still finished it, eh? She's dedicated.
[Seriously, though. I refuse to believe nobody else can figure this out in two thousand years and you did it in about two months.]
[Well]
I can tell she just wants to say she's that much smarter than everyone else.
[I do have advantages as a monster that others don't have. Throwing oneself physically into another dimension isn't exactly easy without having our unique advantages. Impossible, really.]
I'm guessing she's saying she has mutations that help in that regard, which obviously a normal person can't get.
[Alright, maybe you won't have an answer for this question then. If that barrier is broken, what will happen to Pangera?]
[Oooooooo. Not sure. Boom? Maybe or perhaps no boom. On the other mandible boom?]
[See if you can get an answer without exploding any parts of the nest. Or the planet.]
[You got it, Eldest. I'll get right on it!]
-x-X-x-
Odren, the Father of Monsters, oldest and first amongst the Ancients, we beseech thee.
Grant us freedom from the prison that binds us.
Preserve us from the creations of your power.
Watch over and protect us with your omnipresent sight.
Save us from ourselves.
-Prayer of the Cult of Origin
Lost in my own thoughts, the next few hours blow past without me really noticing. The Colony finished setting everything up, setsulah arkesh came and haggled over everything, mostly the jewellery, also the end table, then it was time to pack up again.
The only thing that really jolted me out of my thoughts was when the table in question was eventually purchased. As the winning setsulah claimed the prize on behalf of his ka'armodo, he decided to open the drawers to make a full inspection of the purchase, only to recoil in surprise when a demon sprang loose.
Uncoiling himself and leaping in one smooth motion, Odin bellowed his fury, blade arms flashing with murderous red light.
[Anthony! I'm coming for your head!]
I swatted him out of the air with my mandibles.
[That's where you ended up? I could have sworn you were stowed in a cabinet.]
Apologies were made to the client, of course, and Odin was rounded up without any further incident, which was great.
With that, our stay on the mountain home of the ka'armodo, Desert Basin, has come to an end. Oddly enough, without any real incidents. Almost boring, in the end.
No, Anthony! Don't think that way! Expecting everything that happens to turn into an unmitigated disaster in one form or another is not a healthy way to live your life!
Honestly, I don't know what I expected to happen, but the revelations from Rassan'tep should be enough to fulfil the excitement quota. I don't even know what it means for me, this so-called Truth. Is there an option where I become the twentieth Ancient, then tell the others to get stuffed? I'm guessing in that case they would band together to put me down and try and raise up another one.
Maybe I find Odren and bite his leg until he releases me from the Call? Perhaps the best solution is that I help raise another monster to the position of Ancient, then there would be no reason to keep this hook in my guts.
But that would only be viable if I was certain the Ancients escaping wouldn't destroy the planet. This is too much for my poor aching brains, I'm not built to worry about things this important.
At the same time, I don't want to offload all of these concerns to the Council until I know more. There's nothing they can do about any of this in the present moment, and the Colony has enough things to worry about. Securing territory, bulking up our defences, training more young, securing these deals.
The cores that flow from this trade will be a wonderful supplement to our own harvesting efforts, ensuring more young ants can grow and evolve with fully enhanced cores.
Then we can see about fixing the fifth stratum.
With our business concluded, there's nothing to do but get our trade fleet back on the water. The nest is torn down in short order and the column of ants once again marches through the port streets, tons and tons of ant goods gripped in powerful soldier mandibles.
Before long, every one of my siblings is once again stuffed below decks and I am back in place, balanced on the deck of the large, wide tub while the brathian crew works around me. There's a lot that goes into getting a ship like this to move the way they want it to, even after magic gets involved. Lots of ropes and pulleys, climbing, knots and all sorts of other stuff that makes no sense to me.
The main thing I need to focus on is not slapping any of the crew with my antennae accidentally. And apologising to Odin, of course.
[Look. I told them to look in every cabinet, which was clearly my mistake. I had no idea you were in the end table!]
[I have unleashed rivers of blood for lesser insults than this! My anger isn't quenched!]
He wriggles violently, attempting to lash out, but suspended above my head in his own little gravity well, there isn't much he can do.
[I said I was sorry, now come on, let it go. We are out on the water, sailing! Great big adventure! Isn't that exciting?!]
[What excites me is BLOOD!]
[Bloody good times, exactly! We're headed off to the kingdom of the Golgari, that should be fun, right? Lots of big ol' stone people, living in a big ol' stone mountain? Sound interesting?]
[No!]
[They also hate our guts and want to kill all of the ants.]
[... That's a little better.]
Honestly, this is the one I'm most worried about. The Colony and the ka'armodo have been rattling the sabres for ages, but outright warfare hasn't broken out. Against the golgari? They aided the Legion in their siege, the very same Legion that is ominously sailing over our right shoulder, metaphorically speaking, right now.
Were it not fortuitous timing and my siblings punching well above their weight, we would have been wiped out in the conflict. The ants haven't forgotten, and I'm sure the golgari aren't pleased they were beaten by an upstart monster nest. They seem proud to a fault.
[Hopefully, it doesn't all go bad,] I say to Odin.
[You don't sound convinced.]
I'm not.