grudge

Royal Road

SomethingOtherThanRain

Re: Dragonize (LitRPG) by Kuiper

Chapter 54: Good Intentions

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After climbing up to the ant tunnel entrance, I slowly hoisted myself into the passageway. I took a few tentative steps forward into the narrow tunnel, then took a few steps backward.

I heard Octavia's voice below me. "Why are you backing out? Is there a problem up there?"

"Just making sure I can back out," I said. "I'd hate to crawl several feet in and realize I was trapped with no way to escape."

"You think this might be some kind of trap?"

"No," I said. "For now, I'm willing to believe that the ants mean us no harm. But a carelessly-constructed tunnel could be a deathtrap."

"You don't trust the ants' ability to construct a tunnel?" she asked.

"I trust their ability to construct ant-sized tunnels," I said. "I'm sure they have lots of experience with that. I'm guessing that they have considerably less experience when it comes to constructing tunnels for creatures large enough to accommodate a small dragon, or a large spider. In fact, I get the impression that a lot of the tunnels the ants use are probably made specifically with the intention of preventing creatures like us from entering." I took a few steps forward, and the tunnel seemed to widen a bit, allowing me to make my strides with greater confidence. "I think we're all good up here," I said.

Octavia climbed up after me, and I began walking forward. I opened my mouth to say something, but I slipped and a moment later found myself slightly dazed on the ground, tasting something like blood..

Octavia shouted with a concerned tone. "What's wrong?"

"Tripped," I said. "And I think I bit my tongue." With my mouth closed, I ran my tongue along the inside of my gums. Fortunately, my bite hadn't been sharp enough to do any serious damage. I shuddered a bit, considering what my razor-sharp teeth might have done to my tongue if my bite had been just a bit sharper. Higher mouth level meant more dangerous teeth, but did it also mean a more durable tongue? I could only hope.

I heard Octavia's voice behind me. "Can you still walk?"

"Yes," I said, a bit sheepishly as I stood up. I clawed at the ground in front of me, feeling its texture under the softest part of my feet. "Watch your step. It's sandy."

"Sand?" she said. "This far below the surface?"

"It's coarse sand," I said. "Not like the fine sand of the wind-eroded desert. I think that the armored ants may have renovated this tunnel recently, and they didn't completely clean up after themselves."

"Maybe they were making the tunnel bigger so that we could fit through," she said.

I nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

"That bodes well," she said. "It means they're friendly."

I agreed with Octavia on one level: the fact that they had so recently modified the tunnel to accommodate us did indicate a certain level of friendliness or cooperation on their part, assuming that it wasn't a trap. But recently-constructed tunnels – ones that had yet to prove their worthiness – were always the most dangerous. In all of my time in the underground, I hadn't given much serious thought to the risk of being crushed by rock falling from above, but a lot had changed in the past day – for one thing, Octavia's tunnel network had suffered a cave-in as a result of an attack from a massive dragon smashing into the ground. Who knew how far that damage extended?

I chose not to voice the concerns that ran through my mind – no sense worrying Octavia over things we couldn't control. This was not a world that presented risk-free options; it was simply a matter of choosing the level of risk we wanted to endure. In a world where allyship with the armored ants might be the one thing protecting us from the fire ants who were bent on our extermination, trusting their construction ability seemed like the best option we had.

I did my best to focus on the pathway ahead as I marched down the tunnel. At one point, the light grew so dim I could barely see, until a pair of black armored ants emerged, both carrying thin shards of glowstone, barely the length and width of a pencil.

"They've sent torchbearers to meet us," I said to Octavia as I followed the pair of ants.

"I wonder if this is a diplomatic ritual," she said.

"These ants never struck me as the type for ritual. Or diplomacy, for that matter. I guess they proved me wrong on the second point, so maybe I'm wrong about their capacity for ritual."

"Ants are right at home in the underground tunnels," she said. "That means they're comfortable navigating in darkness. I think they rely on other senses. Maybe they gather glowstone for greeting visitors who aren't blessed with the ability to see in the dark."

"Maybe," I said. "But the quantity of glowstone they seem interested in amassing seems more than what you'd need for mere torches."

"Maybe they're planning to present us with some ornate glowstone statue," she said.

"Let's not let our expectations get too high," I said. "Besides, we have a pretty ascetic lifestyle, living unburdened by physical possessions. What would we even do with an ornate statue if they presented us with one?"

"Well," said Octavia, "it's the thought that counts. I was just hoping that our ant hosts would be generous. Though, maybe it's best if they don't try to give us any gifts. After all, we didn't bring any gifts with us to reciprocate."

"We already gave them a gift," I said. "Or at least, you did. Remember that webbing you installed to cut off the fire ants, specifically at their behest?"

"That doesn't count as a gift," said Octavia. "That was beneficial for both us and them. If you repaired a fence for your neighbor, you wouldn't call it a gift."

"I might call it a gift," I said. "Especially depending on the cost of the repair job. Suppose you and I agree to repair a fence that runs along both of our yards, and split the cost fifty-fifty. The bill comes out to several hundred dollars. Then, at the last minute, before you can pay your half, I tell you I'm paying for your half and won't take no for an answer. How is that different from a gift?"

"It's a gift," she said. "But it's not a hostess gift."

"Okay," I said, ducking as the passageway's ceiling suddenly grew lower. "It looks like we're still some ways from our destination, so if you see a place to stop to pick up a bottle of wine or a box of chocolates for our hosts, let me know."

"I was thinking of something like a tea cozy, or a pillow," said Octavia. "Something that the hosts will remember you by."

"Gotta know your host," I said. "Which do you think the ants would like more, a box of chocolates, or a tea cozy? Every ant I've known has preferred sweets."

"Well, I could weave them a tea cozy," she said. "I don't know of any places down here that sell chocolates."

"You're right," I said. "This neighborhood really leaves a lot to be desired."

A moment of silence followed. By now, the passage was spacious enough that I could turn back, and I glanced back over my shoulder at Octavia. "Something wrong?"

"No," she said. "I was just thinking about…past lives."

"Ah," I said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"No, it's alright," she said. "It's just, before, I had a different life, where I worried about things like tea cozies, and charcuterie boards, and boxes of chocolates. And now…I have a different life. Things work differently in this world."

"I know what you mean," I said, not entirely sure that I did.

"Do you think that the leader of the armored ants will be friendly?" she said. "I always felt a tiny bit anxious any time I went over to someone's house for dinner, but at least I had a vague idea of what to expect. The place the ants are leading us to could be anything."

"I get where you're coming from," I said. "But even though our lives are different than they were before, there are things that seem to be true, no matter what. And probably the most important lesson I've learned in life – both this life, and my past life – is that life gets easier when you have friends. I'm not sure where the ants are taking us. I'm not sure how we'll communicate with them, or if we even can communicate with them. But it does seem to me like they want to be our friends, and that makes me hopeful about what the future holds."

"Thank you," said Octavia. "I think I needed to hear that. Lead the way forward, little dragon."

I gave a slight nod, and stepped forward along the tunnel toward the nearest light source. As I put my claw down and shifted my weight forward, I felt nothing underneath me and tumbled forward. Panic set in as I fell through the air, then ended a moment later when I hit the ground with a thump.

Octavia rushed down to me. "Are you okay?" she said, poking at my foreleg.

"Ow. Yes," I said.

"Are you sure you're still not debilitated?" she said. "I'm surprised you tripped like that. It wasn't that steep."

I looked back at where I'd lost my footing. "I'm fine," I said, feeling a bit defensive. "Maybe not as experienced as you are at navigating low-light conditions. Also, I have half as many legs as you, so it's easier for me to trip."

Octavia giggled. "If this is what you're like on four legs, I have to wonder how you got by on two legs."

"Alright!" I said. "Apparently I still have a thing or two to learn about the art of walking. That's been known to happen with creatures that are only a couple weeks old, which I happen to be. I am a 'baby dragon,' after all. Maybe you should lead the way this time."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Octavia, squeezing past me in the narrow passageway.

Two glowing points of light emerged in the passage ahead, painting the dim silhouette of the ants that held them. "Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "We wouldn't want to keep our hosts waiting."

The next several minutes were mercifully free of tripping or any other incidents, though I did take note of the fact that our last minute of walking seemed to take us upward, closer to the surface. The incline was gradual, but as Octavia walked ahead of me, there were several places where her steps disturbed bits of sand which slid backwards down toward me.

Several moments of following the gradual upward slope led us to a chasm – there wasn't enough glowstone for me to see just how high the ceiling was, but I felt a draft. I scanned the area, seeing that the perimeter was dotted with bits of glowstone, and in the dim illumination, I saw ants. That, in itself, wasn't notable, until I realized that all of the ants were stationary, staring directly at me and Octavia.

"You don't usually see ants standing still like that," I said. "It seems like they're always walking somewhere. Even when they're guarding a location, they're always on patrol. I wonder if –"

Suddenly, all of the stationary ants took a step forward in unison. I heard Octavia gasp as the ants surged forward. Then just as quickly, the ants all stepped back, again in perfect unison.

"My apologies, I had no intention of startling you," came a voice from above, its timbre unfamiliar yet distinctly feminine, resonating with a deep, melodious chuckle. "I bid you welcome to my lair. …no, forgive me, the word 'lair' sounds too sinister. Welcome to my home."

Royal Road

SomethingOtherThanRain

Re: Dragonize (LitRPG) by Kuiper

Chapter 55: First Impressions

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"I bid you welcome to my lair. …no, forgive me, the word 'lair' sounds too sinister. Welcome to my home."

I looked up, searching for the source of the melodic voice.

"Ah, you'd like to see me, would you? I hope you'll forgive me if I'm reluctant to show myself. You two have quite the reputation as ant-killers, and given what you've done to my minions on several occasions, I presume you understand my sense of caution."

"We come in peace," I said. "We didn't come expecting a fight. In fact, I think that we share a common enemy."

"True, true," came the voice, echoing off the walls and filling the air overhead with a resonant hum. "Still, you two have demonstrated a capability for violence in the past, and allies of convenience are often the first to turn on their friends."

"Octavia and I aren't just allies of convenience," I said, hoping my spider companion didn't mind that I was doing all the talking. "We value the same things. We get along well. We're friends. And we came here hoping that we could call you our friend, whoever you are."

"Octavia, that would be the eight-legged one, hmm? And what might your name be?"

"I'm Drew. Or 'little dragon,' depending on who you ask. Do you have a name I can call you by?"

"Hmm, a name? Funny, I haven't needed one of those for a long time. I suppose Anne will do. Does that sound sufficiently regal?"

"Anne," said Octavia. "That's a lovely name."

"Yes," I said. "A graceful name befitting a queen."

Anne, still not choosing to show herself, chuckled. "You're quite the diplomat, Drew. Or, perhaps I should say, 'little dragon.' I do appreciate the flattery, but you're making quite the assumption there. I never said I was a queen."

"The armored ants seem to answer at your beck and call," I said. "I always assumed they had a queen. And you have a regal air about you."

A low, resonant laugh echoed around us. "Drew, the diplomat dragon. You are quite amusing. I am not immune to flattery, and in fact, I quite enjoy it. Please, if you have any more praise for me, don't hesitate to share it."

"You've done an excellent job of taking care of the fire ants," I said.

"Ah, yes," Anne said. "Those. Well, you know what they say. Knowledge is power, know your adversary, and your victory is inevitable. I do happen to be the world's foremost expert on the fire ants. They don't have a single capability that eludes my knowledge."

"Unsurprising," I said. "Have you had any run-ins with their queen?"

Anne chittered. "Queen of the fire ants, you say?"

"I just assumed they had a queen," I said. "If you're the world's foremost experts on fire ants, then maybe you know a thing or two about who their queen would be."

Anne hummed. "Queen of the fire ants. Well, I suppose I do know her, in a sense. I suppose you could say…she's me."

Octavia gasped and took several steps back. My eyes darted around the room, trying to locate Anne, but finding nothing. I felt my ears twitching as I did an involuntary check of my vitals

HP: 30/30

SP: 17/18

"Hmm?" Anne's voice echoed around us. "Something wrong, my dear Octavia? What has you suddenly on edge?"

"I…" Octavia stammered. "What exactly did you mean by that?"

"Oh," said Anne. "As I said, I suppose I'm the queen of the fire ants, or the closest thing they have to a queen. I wouldn't call them my minions, per se; that, I reserve for these ones." The black armored ants around us tapped their mandibles together in unison.

I looked up. "I've seen fire ants fighting with armored ants. Seems you've got a civil war on your hands."

"Indeed," said Anne. Though perhaps 'civil war' is less apt as a description than 'insurrection,' and to even call it that is overstating it. They're like a misbehaving child – or, no, that's not the right analogy either, even if I was the one to spawn them. They're like an unruly pet that refuses to be docile and obedient, no matter how much training or discipline you use. The pet where you've exhausted every option and come to the conclusion that, sadly, there's no option other than for it to be put down."

"You spawned them?" I asked. "Could you elaborate on that? Are the armored ants also your spawn?"

"Yes on both counts," said Anne. "The armored ants are my spawn. In a way, these armored ants are an extension of myself. They only do what I command them to do. Even when I send them away from the nest, they can only follow a very limited set of instructions that I've fed them, and once they've executed those instructions, they need to be fed new instructions."

"That sounds like it could get pretty time-consuming," I said.

"It does!" said Anne. "That was always my limitation. I was spending all day giving instructions to my ants, and there are only so many hours in a day. I wanted to create a set of ants that could be more autonomous, without the need to constantly be fed new instructions. Things would be so much easier if each of my workers could be fully instructed from birth with everything it would need to serve my interests."

"And how did that work out?" I asked, pretty sure that I already knew the answer.

"Well, you've seen the fire ants," said Anne, confirming my suspicion. "They can be very effective at whatever they set their minds to. Unfortunately, that apparently doesn't involve following my instructions."

"They rebelled?" said Octavia.

"It could scarcely be described as a rebellion," said Anne. "I believe they barely know themselves what it is they're doing. I believe that they're just carrying out the instructions I programmed them with since birth."

Octavia spoke, sounding a bit impatient. "If you could have built the fire ants with any instructions, why didn't you build them to be obedient to your orders?"

Anne let out a low chuckle. "Ah, how simple life could be. If only, if only. That was one of my first ideas. I mastered the power of speech specifically to see if it would be an effective way of giving them orders. But it turns out that 'speech' ability doesn't actually assist in communicating with my ant minions. In fact, I had long considered this skill useless, until you two showed up."

"Well," said Octavia, "I'm glad that all three of us met. I bet you've been waiting a long time to have someone to talk to."

"Hmm?" said Anne. "No, not particularly. My minions aren't much for conversation, but they're good company."

"Speaking of 'company,'" said Octavia, "how about joining us down here?"

Anne's chuckle echoed off the walls. "Oh, you'd like to see my face, would you? Why is that so important to you?"

"You can see us, can't you?" said Octavia.

Anne's voice took on a tone of impatience. "Yes, and…?"

"Reciprocity seems like the foundation of a good relationship," I said. "You said you wanted our help, right? Well, how about a little mutual trust? We've come here to your lair – er, your home – and you've got us surrounded. I don't mind entering a position of vulnerability, but one-sided vulnerability isn't really trust, is it?"

"But I have been vulnerable with you," said Anne. "I've been telling you all of my secrets, haven't I? Is it really so important that you see my face?"

"I suppose it's not," I said. "If this is the only way you're going to feel comfortable talking, then it's fine with me. But speaking face-to-face will allow us to understand each other better, don't you think? You know what they say about most communication being non-verbal."

"Who says that?" said Anne.

"I…well, I don't know exactly who," I said. "But I've heard it said often enough, and it seems intuitively true. Being able to see someone's expressions and gestures is always going to let you understand more of what they're trying to communicate than if you only have their voice to go by."

"Alright," said Anne. "I will admit that you two don't seem to be as combat minded as I had feared you might be. Octavia, I haven't seen you move to spin a web once since arriving here. Any reason for that?"

"It seemed rude," said Octavia. "I wouldn't want to make a mess."

"And you, Drew," said Anne. "You've just been staring at the ceiling. Have you nothing better to do with your attention than stare in my general direction, hoping that I'll reveal myself? You certainly don't have the disposition of a tactician. You've been completely oblivious to the horde of ants gathering behind you."

I swiveled around, and saw that in addition to the armored ants that stood at the perimeter of the room, an even greater number of them had amassed directly behind me. It could have been an ambush, had Anne not drawn my attention to it.

"Guess not," I said. "I didn't step in here expecting to do battle, at least. I just came for a bit of conversation, and staring in the general direction of where your voice is coming from is the closest thing to eye contact until you decide to show yourself."

"It would seem that you truly do come in peace." Anne sounded amused. "Alright, I suppose I should offer you a proper introduction. But if you open that dragon mouth of yours and something foul-smelling comes out, I'm going to take it as a hostile act and respond in kind, understood? I've perceived what you've done to my ants, and I don't want it happening to me."

"Of course," I said.

"And no spider webs while you're here," said Anne. "Not without my say so."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Octavia. "Your home, your rules."

"Good," said Anne. "I would find it incredibly distasteful to have to resort to, well, you know." The ants around us tapped their mandibles in unison. So much for 'trust.' Baby steps…

I caught the sight of movement on the ceiling. Beside me, Octavia shifted uneasily, her eight legs clicking on the stone floor.

Suddenly, the ceiling seemed to spring to life, filling the air with a rhythmic vibration as I caught sight of the swirling pattern overhead. It took a moment for me to realize that the shifting pattern of the ceiling was ants – not armored ants, but some different kind of ant, smaller than the armored ants, so dense that they had completely covered every spec of the ceiling. The ants swept across the ceiling, revealing the light of a glowstone ceiling.

A warm, ethereal light bathed the chamber, and a group of ants – larger than the ones on the ceiling, but smaller than the armored ants – descended the walls. As they descended, I realized that the mass of ants was carrying something – or someone. A massive ant, ten times the size of the largest ant I'd ever seen. Their queen.

"Anne," I whispered.

Her body glinted with a polished sheen as the workers ferried her down. Her multifaceted eyes shimmered in the glowstone's light, and her slender antennae quivered in something that looked like anticipation as her procession approached us.

The workers set her down gently before us, then formed a perimeter around her, standing as attentive and vigilant as any royal guard.

"Now," said Anne, "Where were we?"

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