AR Chapter 504 (Patreon)

A thousand apologies. I promised three chapters over the weekend. INstead, you're getting two today, and maybe a third tonight.

The days that separated me from my departure to the southern lands passed quickly. Knowing that I would be spending weeks traveling, and that just to get out of the Shandise, to say nothing of the journey to get to wherever this conclave was going to be held, I enjoyed the time I could get with my children and mate. The longer time went on, the more the hatchlings became little Keel, no longer with too big of heads and too short of limbs. They could walk, and now that they could balance themselves better, they were running in that toddling fashion. The vestiges of baby fat that rolled around their hips melted away as they walked and ran more.

Sybil and I both found ourselves cooing over them as they all started speaking in words barely intelligible but words all the same. In all honesty, I couldn’t tell how much of what they were doing was actually talking, and how much was us prescribing meaning to the noises that they made. If it was the second, all three loved the praise they got from making the noises, so they did it over and over again.

Sounds like “ma” and “ba” became “mom” and “dad.” Sybil, in response, tried to teach “mother” and “father,” but I didn’t need magic or my thermal vision to be able to see the joy she took in our children’s progress. Her enjoyment of seeing their progress also was shown in an increased desire to become gravid again.

“I only became gravid after you left last time,” Sybil reasoned, not trying to hide her teasing tilt of her head as she lay beneath me, “so it stands to reason that this time, when you leave us again, I will be able to surprise you with good news upon your return, a second time.”

Neither of us minded attempting to make that joke a reality, enjoying each other’s presence whenever neither of us was forced into one of the dozens of responsibilities that demanded our attention. In fact, one that most required our attention, though not our presence, was reestablishing a good connection with the colony whose tunnels exited in the center of our home. The Crimson hadn’t, in truth, minded at all that we hunted some of their drones to sustain ourselves during the siege.

To feed yourself and those under your command is a sacred responsibility, the Royal had answered when we reestablished communication with them in truth, not long before the height of summer. Her body language seemed entirely unconcerned when we’d taken steps to directly explain what we had done during the winter, but I couldn’t say that I was particularly confident in my ability to read insect body language. However, despite understanding the necessity behind what you did and bearing you no ill will, there yet remains a matter of payment required from you.

“That makes sense,” I answered. “However, I can’t say that I have any idea what might be valuable to your people. From what little we understand of you, everything you need and want is found underground. The war against the Violet is the only conflict I’ve heard any of you having to deal with.”

It is with the Violet that we desire your assistance. Though the Royals of our people are able to resist it, we have reason to believe that the Violet Royals, and especially the Nobles below them, will be susceptible to the mind magic your people have. The price you will pay is lending one of your people who can affect the minds of others to us for a time we deem necessary.

“I need something more specific than that,” I clacked my teeth together in emphasis of my denial. “Simply demanding that you’re going to take one of my most powerful mages and return them at some later time is unacceptable. When and for how long will you need this support?”

It is difficult to give any timeline on this. The Violets are violent, their Royals and Nobles more inclined to participating on the front lines than the more civilized Crimson. They don’t move logically, so there is no way to give a specific estimation of when this time will be.

“Then we can say, at some point in the next four months, you can request the appearance of one of the mages capable of helping you to make themselves available to you for one week,” I suggested.

Within the next year, and for a full month, the Royal countered.

“We can extend the time period for the next year,” I flicked my tail, “but a week is all you’re getting. The people that you are requesting help from are the equivalent of what I could only imagine are the Royals above you in the colony.”

The only one above me is the Queen, and even you do not compare to her importance. The Royal’s voice was simultaneously indignant and patient as she explained it. However, I understand the point you are making. To demand so long from one so important would be selfish.

The way she said “selfish” seemed to have been with the same tone as if to say the most heinous thing she could imagine. With that little peek into her own thoughts, I felt I could understand the ants a bit better as she accepted my original terms of one week in the next four months.

As the conversation started to die down, despite Sybil glancing at me in a way that both of us knew what it meant, I had to say, “You’re not very good at negotiating, are you?”

The ant went still at that, then drawing her antennae through her forelegs, she seemed to shrug. It wasn’t in any way that I could see, perhaps it was just an emotion communicated across our mental bond. Regardless, she mentally shrugged and said, There is very little reason for me to ever negotiate. Among the colonies, instead of negotiating, a request is made. The request is for whatever the colony needs. Those to whom the request is made either grant the request or do not. Occasionally, those who have received the request have something to request in return, but many times, there is no “negotiation” to make.

“So am I right in assuming that this conflict with the Violet colony comes from something like this?”

You could say so, and derision dripped from her voice as she said it. They requested access to our nurseries.

I paused at that, then I clarified, “Did they know it was your nursery?”

Yes.

“So it was a declaration of war,” I scoffed. “They don’t sound like very pleasant people.”

No. Hence the request for one who may break their minds as they hoped to break our eggs.

“You know,” I said, allowing myself to bare my teeth, “I think we might have a good time working together.”

The conversation was already largely finished by then, and the Royal quickly retreated back from the mouth of the hole in the center of Nievtra.

Now, in the waning heat of late summer, It’d been weeks since that conversation, and though I had no doubt that the Royal would have plenty of time to get back to us, there was no more opportunity for me to see what she would say.

Instead, it was finally time for me and my escorts to make our way south. The Misti Hawar were prepared for our arrival. That, or, they were about to be forced to.