4.13 L (1/2)

Once upon a time there was a Worker. He had no name. He had no future. He had been born to work, and he knew he would die. If not today, then tomorrow.

He would die while working. A chance fall from the top of a building while carrying lumber might be his end, or perhaps in a freak monster attack. He might die when fighting to defend his Hive, or if a tunnel collapsed due to an earthquake or flood.

And if he survived that, he would die when he grew old. When he grew slower he would be given jobs fitting his station. But at some point he would be too slow, too weary. And then he would walk into the jaws of a monster, or curl up and stop breathing. That was what the Worker knew.

And he didn’t mind. Because all routes led to death in the end, he did not worry about his fate. He was part of his Hive. If his Queen could live a fraction of a second longer, or his Hive prosper by the sum of one more copper coin, he would die fulfilled.

So he thought. And then one day, he met a girl named Erin Solstice. And she asked him if he had a name. The question had broken him into pieces. A simple question, but one that asked the Worker things he had never thought of, things he had no answers for.

He might have fallen. He might have become an Aberration. But he did not. He found a name in despair and found something else to live for besides his Queen. He found he was no longer a Worker, and he realized he was afraid of dying. He chose a name.

That was then. Now Pawn was something else. Not just a [Tactician] or [Carpenter] or [Butcher], but something that defined him. He had a class that was unique to him, something no one else had. He was an [Acolyte]. The first of his kind.

He was also a leader. It was not the same as [Tactician], no. For a [Tactician] only thought of the world in terms of loss and gain. They could command, but their Skills and nature did not inspire.

Pawn led Soldiers, the huge, silent guardians of the Hive. He had hundreds of them under his command, each one a killing machine. They didn’t have hands. Their fists were designed for murder, for tearing and pounding force, not to hold things. They had less future than that of a Worker, for they would live and die in their Hive, fighting against threats with their short lifespans.

They were fierce, loyal, unwavering. Pawn did not deserve to command one of them, but he had no choice. He had been given a position of power, so Pawn had learned to lead. He had lives of Soldiers under his authority, and he had unwillingly accepted the trust they had placed in him. He was no true general, no gifted visionary, but he had a duty. So Pawn learned. He learned what to say when he held a dying Soldier in his arms.

And he learned how to give them hope. Because that was what the Antinium needed. Hope. A dream. Faith that there was something worth dying for. The Hive wasn’t enough. Not at all. The Queen wasn’t enough. What they needed was light.

So Pawn took the Soldiers who had lived their lives in darkness. He took them out of the Hive. And showed them the sky.

—-

A few desultory snowflakes drifted down from grey skies above Liscor. A cold wind blew. Not a fell wind, or a chill wind—just cold. It wasn’t a wind that could scourge flesh or scale from bone or freeze extremities in an instant. It was just cold. And unpleasant. The Drakes and Gnolls and Humans walking down the street moved quickly to be out of the wind and weather. They were sick of winter, and wanted it to be over already.

But the Antinium marching down the streets stared up at the sky and marveled. The Soldiers walked with uniform alertness behind Pawn, drawing heads and clearing the street as they marched down it. Drakes and Gnolls alike got out of the way, eyeing the Soldiers a bit warily, but without fear.

The Humans were less circumspect. Twice already, Pawn had seen a group of Humans scream and run, or reach for their weapons. Both times he had resolved the situation, but the Humans made him uneasy. He couldn’t predict how they’d act.

The Drakes and Gnolls on the other hand, the citizens of Liscor, were easier. They just watched the Antinium warily, but the Soldiers Pawn led through the streets towards the eastern gates were accepted by now. Perhaps even liked?

No. No, not liked. Pawn sighed as he watched one of the Soldiers stare up at a cloud and then snap his head down and keep walking. It was a good sign. The Soldiers were too careful to stop paying attention, but these new ones had never seen the sky, let alone snow or people. Pawn knew they were staring while pretending not to. And he didn’t mind. They would have a chance to stare as long as they liked today.

“Left here.”

He indicated a street, and the Soldiers instantly filed after him, surprising a family of Gnolls. They backed away, but Pawn immediately halted to let them move past the Antinium.

“Hrr. Thank you.”

The father—or mother—bowed her head to Pawn and he inclined his. The Gnolls stepped quickly around the Soldiers, half of whom stared at the furry Gnolls. And the Gnolls stared back. One of the three children of the family of five, the youngest, sniffed at a Soldier’s leg and then hurried away as his parent snapped at him. It was another good sign, Pawn decided.

“Resume marching. Be careful of pedestrians.”

Pawn began walking and his Soldiers immediately fell into step behind him. The Antinium marched down the street, pausing to let a wagon go past as the [Driver] stared down at the Antinium. He had no words for Pawn or the Soldiers, but that was good too.

Because it meant Liscor was getting used to Pawn’s daily patrols.

At first, Pawn had encountered fear, suspicion, and downright hostility as he’d brought his group of Soldiers through the streets and out the gates. Despite Watch Captain Zevara and Klbkch assuring the residents of Liscor that these Antinium were not dangerous, they had feared Pawn and his group almost as much as the rumors of Goblin armies or Rock Crabs.

At first. But each day, Pawn had come back, his Soldiers carrying dead Shield Spiders, Corusdeer carcasses, and other proof of their victories against the dangerous creatures roaming around Liscor. That was all they did. They went out, patrolled the landscape, and came back with spoils that were turned into meat for [Butchers], armor for [Blacksmiths], ingredients for [Alchemists], and so on.

And the city had accepted them. Slowly, but surely, the people had realized that Pawn’s group of Soldiers were there to help. They had already known Klbkch, the Antinium with a name. He was recognized as a reliable, if odd Senior Guardsman, and, it was said, the only person who could put up with Relc or survive his escapades. So instead of people fleeing the Antinium when they appeared or screaming for the Watch, they just watched.

And then Pawn had begun painting his Soldiers, or rather, letting them paint themselves. It was their identity, and perhaps the single greatest idea Pawn had ever had. Perhaps the greatest idea any Worker had ever had, come to that. Because the Soldiers could not speak. They could not name themselves and Pawn had agonized over that fact. How could they be remembered without an identity, especially because they all looked the same, even to Pawn?

With paint. That was how. The paint was thick, water-resistant, and Pawn had bought enough of it from Krshia to let the Soldiers reapply it to their armored carapaces whenever they wanted. And he had let them paint themselves. So each Soldier that walked behind Pawn stood out. And the people noticed.

“There they are again. Damn bugs.”

A group of elderly Drakes sat at a table outside of one of the taverns, watching the Antinium wait for a wagon to be unloaded. They could move past, but Pawn didn’t want to spook the Drakes and Gnolls who were working. They were already moving double-time to get out of the Soldiers’ way.

In the meantime, the Drakes who’d taken issue with the Soldiers talked, and Pawn listened to them complain. They were old. Their scales were discolored in places by age and faded by time. These old Drakes often sat outside, Pawn knew. They seemed unaffected by the cold, or perhaps it was because they sipped spicy alcoholic beverages in the morning. They always had something to say about the Soldiers, too.

“Every day that Worker brings them this way. Now they’re blocking my view of the street too. Ruins my morning.”

“What morning? You barely wake up before noon.”

“Shut up, Shadowspine. I rise at the crack of dawn—”

“Hah!”

“—at the crack of dawn I say, and if I have to crane my neck every time a band of those black giants passes by—”

“You barely turn your head when your grandchildren come by. You’re just sore because I won five silver from you last night over dice.”

“It was a bad toss! You barely rattled the dice around, you cheating—”

Two of the Drakes sitting at the table began arguing and throwing things at each other. They bickered loudly as Pawn passed by. But another of the Drakes sitting at the table, an old female Drake with grey-green scales peered intently at the group of Soldiers.

“There he is. See?”

“What?”

The two arguing male Drakes turned their heads. The female Drake smiled.

“The one with yellow paint. See? I saw him yesterday.”

Pawn didn’t have to look to know which Soldier she was talking about. One of the Soldiers marching behind him had yellow splatters of paint all over his carapace, as if someone had thrown globs of paint at him. In fact, that was exactly what had happened.

The old Drakes stared at the Soldier in question. One of them, the alleged cheater, coughed and grumbled.

“So? He looks silly. What did that one do, trip and knock paint all over himself?”

“Hush.”

The other Drake turned and flicked her tail, smacking the speaker in the chest with her tail. Pawn was impressed. Drakes had a good amount of control over their tails, but this old Drake seemed quite adept with hers.

“I like him.”

“Pah! That’s all you know, Shivertail.”

The old Drake that apparently woke up at the crack of dawn cast his eyes across the group of Soldier. He pointed.

“There! That one’s far better.”

Every head in the group of Drakes turned to stare at the individual the Drake had pointed at. His chest and back was bare, but his arms and legs had been painted with purple slashes of color running from his shoulder down to his legs.

“Now that’s war paint.”

“Bah. What about that one?”

The cheating Drake pointed and Pawn saw he was looking at a Soldier who’d drawn a pair of eyes on his shoulders. It was unsettling how they seemed to stare at anyone the Soldier faced. But the elderly Drake seemed to approve.

“That’s proper art, that is. If you two knew anything about color, you’d be admiring him, or the one with the bird on his face.”

“Is that what it is? Who paints their face? That’s plain odd.”

“Bah. When I was a young [Soldier]—”

“Here we go again.”

“Silence! When I fought in the army as part of the elite scouting division—”

“You mean, glorified rangers?”

“—we hunted in groups, wearing war paint to demoralize the enemy! Anyone who saw our colors fled in fear or begged for their lives—”

“Didn’t you lot get routed by a single Gnoll tribe?”

“They had the terrain advantage! But mark me, if we’d been fighting on neutral ground—”

The wagon rumbled out of the way and Pawn continued marching. The arguing Drakes’ voices faded into the background noise, but Pawn’s smile did not.

Identity. Each of his Soldiers had it now. It wasn’t just elderly Drake grandmothers who watched out for a particular Soldier. Some of the other citizens noticed when a particular Soldier went past. It was like a game. The Antinium had been faceless and identical for so long that now there was a way to tell them apart, people were beginning to pay attention.

The Antinium group left the city, walking past the [Guardsmen] who watched the group with no visible signs of wariness. Pawn looked around and saw snow-covered hilltops, and a distinct lack of detail. So he pointed in a random direction, towards a mountain peak that looked somewhat inviting.

“We shall patrol in this direction. At a leisurely pace. Follow me.”

He began to walk. Not march, but walk. The Soldiers nearly ran Pawn over before they realized how slow he was moving. Over half of this group hadn’t ever been outside, and so they didn’t know how the patrol went.

Pawn proceeded up a hill, down a hill, and then around a hill because he was getting bored of walking up the incline. He set a pace slow enough that the Soldiers could get their fill of staring. Because they would stare, Pawn knew. They would stare at the snow, the sky, and watch a bird until it died of boredom if he let them. It wasn’t because the Soldiers were that simple, either. It was because they had never seen any of these things, and so the experience was precious and wonderful to them.

In that, Pawn envied the Soldiers. They could find so much meaning in a blade of grass. Too much, in fact. Pawn had learned to start the Soldiers off slow, get them out of the city and patrolling the boring landscape around Liscor for a few hours. Because that was all the stimulation the Soldiers could handle. Only after that would Pawn work them up to getting back in the city, staring at flowers, fire, and eating.

Food was one of the highlights of the day for Pawn, and probably the most important experience he could give the Soldiers. Instead of the horrible paste they ate, each one would get a meal courtesy of Lyonette, or more recently, Erin.

Erin. Pawn stopped and let the Soldiers covertly bend down and feel at the snow. Erin was back. He hadn’t had time to talk to her, but she was back. That filled Pawn with countless emotions, relief being first among them. She was back.

He hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with her much, of course. Erin was always busy and so was Pawn. He didn’t like to bother her. Pawn had his life and Erin…was surely too busy to always be looking after him. He had Soldiers to lead now. And not only that…

He had a faith, as well. Pawn was an [Acolyte]. He could pray. He had no god, but he believed in heaven. And it was that faith that gave him a class and Skills no one else had.

Once, Pawn had told the Soldiers about heaven. They had believed in it like he had, and killed themselves to go there, rather than stay. But that was not the way. Pawn had known it. So he had told the Soldiers to stay, to build a heaven for the Antinium while they lived. Because there was no heaven for the Antinium. There was a god—one for the religion of Christianity, for Humans, that Erin had told Pawn about. But none for the Antinium.

So Pawn would make a heaven for his people, for the Workers and Soldiers. He just had to figure out how.

After a while, Pawn began walking again. The Soldiers fell in. He walked over a hill, down a hill, into a Shield Spider’s nest—

The Soldiers jumped in after Pawn and he got out with only a bite on his arm, barely fracturing his carapace. Pawn shakily climbed out of the pit as the Soldiers began smashing the Shield Spiders to bits.

“Ah…very good. Thank you.”

There was danger out in the area around Liscor. Not a patrol went by when Pawn didn’t have his Soldiers fight something or other. But not a single Soldier had died on these patrols, not one. Pawn was proud of that. The Rock Crabs, the fearsome scuttling giant boulders, were no match for the Antinium en masse. The Soldiers would just hold the Rock Crab’s shell down and break through the top with brute force, killing the surprised crustacean from above while it was pinned down.

Soldiers didn’t fight fair. They didn’t fight dirty either. They just fought. The Soldiers probably would have been astounded to learn there was a way to fight fair. They had been born to kill, and they did that quite efficiently.

Pawn watched as a Soldier kicked a Shield Spider into the air. The armored spiders were a considerable threat, worthy of a Silver-rank team or more dangerous in larger nests. Their armor could resist sword cuts, and they had terribly dangerous bites. A normal warrior would be hard-pressed to kill one, even with a mace or axe.

But the Soldiers were strong. One picked up a Shield Spider and held it as it struggled. Another Soldier hit it repeatedly as the other Soldier held it until the Spider’s center burst. Pawn looked away. Then he looked back sharply as something strange happened.

A Soldier had been striking down at a particularly large and aggressive Shield Spider. It had bitten into his legs, sending trickles of green blood out of the wounds. Pawn would have ordered someone to help, but the Soldier suddenly paused as the Shield Spider reared up, trying to bite at his face. The Soldier seemed to hesitate—and then one of his hands blurred.

It was an uppercut, but at a speed that nearly escaped Pawn’s vision to see. The blow caught the Shield Spider as it was rearing and knocked its head off. Literally. Pawn flinched as bits flew out of the pit. The headless Shield Spider collapsed and the Soldier stared at his fist.

Every other Soldier in the pit stared too. Pawn stared as well. He jumped down into the pit and walked over to the Soldier, who flinched.

“Was that a Skill?”

The Soldier stood at attention, silent. Pawn stared at him. This Soldier was the one with the yellow spatters the Drake grandmother had found so interesting. He had patrolled with Pawn several times before.

“Did you use a Skill?”

The Soldier stared down at Pawn. The Worker couldn’t read what was behind his eyes, but he had grown used to the Soldiers by now. He thought the Soldier seemed…nervous? Could Soldiers feel fear? But then the Soldier nodded hesitantly.

“A Skill.”

Pawn exhaled, clicking his mandibles together. One of his Soldiers had learned an activated Skill? That meant…they had leveled up! Pawn knew the Soldiers might, but to realize it now…

“What level are you? No—what class? Is there a way to tell? Ah, but…you do not know how to write and your fingers…”

Pawn stared at the Soldier as he looked down at Pawn. He seemed nervous for all that he was bigger, and stronger than Pawn. The Worker nodded at last, and the Soldier flinched as Pawn looked at him.

“Good work.”

All of the Soldiers stared. Pawn looked around.

“If you have Skills, do not hesitate to use them. But please do not risk yourselves.”

He pointed to the Soldier’s lacerated legs.

“We will stop the bleeding before continuing. The rest of you, clean up the corpses. We will collect them on the way back.”

The Soldiers paused, and then got to work. Pawn had the Soldier with yellow splatters sit and stopped the bleeding with cold snow and some strips of linen he’d purchased with his limited supply of coin. The Worker apologized, because he hadn’t been allowed to use the Hive’s supply of healing potions on Soldiers.

But he cared. And that was why the Soldiers followed him. Because even if Pawn didn’t know it, he had given them a purpose. He had given them identity, shown them the sky. He had given them something to believe in, and so they followed him. Each one would die for him.

But Pawn didn’t know that. All he knew was what it was another day. Another fine day, where none of his Soldiers had died. And it would have been a fine day tomorrow, where he did the same thing again. It would have been, but Klbkch summoned him the instant he returned to the Hive.

—-

“Combat duty?”

Pawn sat in Klbkch’s small office, a dirt room filled with a table and two chairs. And a coatrack which held no coats. Only a single scarf. Klbkch looked up from his desk where he was busy writing something down and nodded briefly.

“That is correct. Do I need to repeat myself?”

“No. It is just that—why me? Why now?”

Pawn stared at Klbkch as the other Antinium clicked his mandibles sharply together in irritation and pushed his papers aside. Pawn felt nervous as Klbkch regarded him over the desk.

He was afraid of the other Antinium. Klbkch may have been the Revalantor of the Hive, and the former Prognugator, both a unique role for the one individual Antinium who directly served the Queen and enforced her will, but Pawn knew his blades had slain more of his fellow Workers than any lone monster.

For that was the duty of a Prognugator. To lead the Antinium in battle, to oversee the Hive while the Queen was busy, and to kill Aberrations. In theory that meant individuals like Pawn, if he turned out to be useless or worse, a traitor to the Hive.

Pawn could never forget that when he was around Klbkch. The Revalantor studied Pawn, and then nodded shortly as if he’d made a decision.

“I require your group of Soldiers to fight today for two reasons. Firstly, I wish to test whether any of them have indeed gained levels as a result of your leadership.”

Pawn nodded as his heart sank. That was the reason Klbkch had assigned the surviving Soldiers to him in the first place, to make them stronger. Pawn knew that, but it was too soon! They’d barely been with him for a week, and now they might die? But Klbkch wasn’t done. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking at Pawn.

“Ordinarily, I would give your unit another month before committing you to a far less-dangerous assignment to test your capabilities. However…the second reason is that we are in need of every Soldier in the Hive at this moment, Pawn. Each and every one, regardless of their worth. I recalled Anand and his group of Soldiers and Workers to the Hive two days ago, but they were not enough. Your Soldiers will fight and many may die. But they are needed to hold the line. If they cannot hold, we may be overrun.”

“What?”

Pawn felt stunned. Overrun? How could the Hive be overrun? Klbkch studied Pawn and shook his head.

“Ah, now I realize you are not informed about matters within the Hive. Belgrade and Anand know, but they have not spoken to you of this matter, have they?”

“No. I had not spoken to them for several days now.”

Pawn hesitated. He hadn’t seen Belgrade or Anand at all, actually. Klbkch nodded.

“They have been working without rest to defend the Hive. Now I understand. I will inform you of the situation, so you may understand why your Soldiers are needed, Pawn. I would not do so for Belgrade or Anand except in a tactical sense, but you are like Relc.”

“I am?”

“You are. You ask superfluous questions. Now listen. You are aware our Hive has battled monsters from the dungeon underneath Liscor, correct?”

“Yes. We always have been.”

For as long as Pawn had lived, the Hive had fended off the incursion of monsters from the dungeon. There were many, many routes from the dungeon to the Hive, many tunnels dug by hungry monsters or by the Antinium. They had to be guarded against attack, which is why Soldiers fought almost daily. But the Hive had always pushed back every attack, from Shield Spiders to Pickstriker fungi, and Crypt Worms and the undead. What had changed?

“We have always sought to defend ourselves from monsters within the dungeon. It has been a difficult task at times, but we have defeated every incursion regardless of the cost of life. However, now that adventurers have entered the dungeon…it is waking up.”

“Waking up? It is sentient?”

Klbkch shook his head.

“That is a metaphorical statement. A non-Antinium expression. To clarify, the population of monsters is growing increasingly active in response to numerous food sources. Thus, the amount of attacks on our Hive has doubled or even tripled in number. For the first time, the Hive is losing more Workers and Soldiers in battle than it produces. We are struggling to increase reproduction while holding the line.”

“I did not know.”

Pawn knew Soldiers and Workers died each day. But he hadn’t noticed more empty spaces or fewer bodies. There were so many Antinium in the Hive, how could you tell? Klbkch tapped the desk slowly.

“You were not meant to know. Nor will you tell anyone of our weakness, including Erin. Is that understood?”

He waited until Pawn had nodded to go on.

“We are capable of resolving this issue—in time. Workers are attempting to repair breached tunnels and create a second layer of fortifications. That is not the issue. The issue is that while Anand and Belgrade have successfully held back every monster attack—with far less loss of life due to their Skills—the latest skirmish created an event where Anand was wounded.”

Something twisted in Pawn. He hadn’t known.

“Is he dead?”

“No. But he is unable to lead, and Belgrade is unable to command alone. I must fulfill my duties as Senior Guardsman for a set period of each day, and rest at other times. I cannot apply for leave and alert the city of the Hive’s weakness at this moment. Thus, you must fulfill the void Anand has left.”

Pawn absorbed all this slowly. He had to fight? With his Soldiers? But—they had paint. They had identity. They were…his. And he had to tell them to die?

Perhaps Klbkch saw his indecision, because the Revalantor spoke sharply.

“You will select one hundred of your Soldiers to do battle. So long as you hold your position, there will be no issue. Belgrade is able to handle the battle as a whole. But you will not retreat unless ordered to, understood?”

Pawn wanted to object, but he knew it was pointless. Instead he asked the other question on his mind.

“What about the other Antinium? The visitors? Will they not fight to defend the Hive?”

Klbkch paused. Pawn had seen the other Antinium, and he remembered the one called Xrn, the Small Queen. She had been radiant. And she knew magic! He had never heard of someone like her, but Pawn was equally in awe of the Antinium with wings, and the ones that wore armor, or seemed to slide from shadow to shadow. Surely they could fight?

But the Revalantor just shook his head.

“They are guests of the Hive. If they wish to participate in battle, they are free to do so. But to request aid is…not a course of action which my Queen and I wish to undertake. No, we will fight back the monsters alone. You have your orders Pawn. Report to Belgrade tomorrow at noon. Now, leave.”

Pawn left. He didn’t want to, but he dared not defy Klbkch. Not the Slayer. And Pawn knew he was right. If the Hive was in danger, he and his Soldiers had a duty. They had to fight.

But Pawn didn’t have to like it. He immediately began walking down through the tunnels of his Hive, following the flow of Workers, searching for Belgrade.

He found the Antinium in the chess room. That was where other Workers played chess. They had no names. They were still not Individual, despite having leveled up in the [Tactician] class. Klbkch and Pawn had agreed the Workers were missing a key element to gain individuality.

Erin. Probably.

But Belgrade and Anand still loved to play. They always hung about in this room when not on duty.

Belgrade was not playing when Pawn found him. He was sitting by himself, in a corner, and the other Workers were sitting as far away from him as possible, glancing at him. Belgrade was hunched into a ball, clasping his four arms around himself in a pose Pawn had never seen before.

He was shaking.

“Belgrade. What is wrong? Are you sick? Are you injured?”

Pawn knelt beside his friend. Belgrade turned his head towards Pawn, and his mandibles clacked together soundlessly. When he spoke, his voice was taut, strained.

“Pawn? I—I cannot. Revalantor Klbkch says I must fulfill Anand’s role and my own, but there are too many, Pawn! I cannot counter all these attacks, and if they overrun the entrenched fortifications—”

“Belgrade. Listen to me—”

“I cannot do it alone, Pawn! Each time I send Soldiers and Workers out, they are killed, Pawn! There are too many this time. Shield Spiders, hundreds of them keep pouring out of the tunnels! And there are suits of armor that ten Soldiers cannot bring down, and the Crypt Worms! They are reanimating our dead, Pawn, our dead. Anand and I could fight them together, but by myself—”

“Belgrade.”

Pawn reached for Belgrade and held his shoulder. Erin had done that to him, once. The other Antinium was shaking, but it grew less as Pawn held him firmly. He looked into Belgrade’s eyes as Erin had once done. Pawn wondered if he should sing.

“I do not know how to sing.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Belgrade, listen to me. You will not be alone tomorrow. I will be participating in battle as well, with my unit of soldiers.”

“You?”

Belgrade stared at Pawn. Rather than finding reassurance in this knowledge as Pawn had hoped, he looked horrified.

“Who gave you this order?”

“Klbkch.”

“No. I must speak to him.”

Belgrade struggled to get up, but Pawn held him down.

“I see the necessity of this order now, Belgrade. I will fight.”

The other [Tactician] shook his head.

“It is too dangerous, Pawn. You are not the same level of [Tactician] as I am. The fighting envelops the entire area—monsters will dig through the walls, or bypass defenses. You will not be safe.”

“You and Anand were not safe. I am needed. My Soldiers are of a higher level than the others, Belgrade. That is why Klbkch assigned them to my command.”

Belgrade hesitated, looking at Pawn with one of his multi-spectrum eyes.

“Truly? That would be—but it is still—”

He broke off, thinking. Pawn could see the [Tactician] part of Belgrade analyzing Pawn’s statement, looking to see how it might help in the coming conflict. He nodded, heart pounding out of his chest, but forced the words out of his mandibles.

“Leave the most dangerous areas to my group of Soldiers, Belgrade. We will not retreat. And we…we will do our duty.”

There was nothing more to be said. Pawn was a Worker, and he commanded Soldiers. They had been created to fight, to protect the Hive, as had Belgrade. And now Pawn understood something else as well. If he did not fight, Belgrade might die. Or more Soldiers and Workers might die. It wasn’t a choice where his Soldiers would die or not die if Pawn refused to fight. If he did not fight with them, Antinium would die. If he did fight, Antinium would still die. But perhaps if his Soldiers fought, less Antinium would die.

There was no good outcome. But there was only one choice that Pawn could take. And Belgrade saw it. He nodded. The shaking had stopped. Slowly, the [Tactician] got to his feet and placed his hand on Pawn’s shoulder as the other Antinium had done for him.

“I must rest if I am to fight at peak efficiency. Pawn, you must promise me to stay behind your Soldiers. If you die…I would not know how to speak to Erin.”

“I know.”

Belgrade left the room. Pawn remained. He clenched his fist. Now he had no other choice. Not that he’d ever really had another option. He turned to go, to seek out Erin despite the late hour, when someone called out his name. Pawn turned, and saw another Antinium staring at him across the room.

“You are the Individual designated as Pawn, are you not?”

The other Antinium was not a part of Pawn’s Hive. He could not be. No Antinium looked like him, not even Klbkch. This Antinium was as tall as a Soldier, and had the same build, but he had only two arms, and he carried a mace and shield at his side.

And he was wearing armor. It shone in the light, and in the eyes of the Workers who stared at him. Tersk, the Prognugator of the Armored Antinium was an armored giant, and he had a helmet which protected his head, which had no antennae.

“Prognugator Tersk.”

Pawn bowed his head as Tersk strode forwards. Tersk nodded in reply. Pawn had not spoken to any of the special Antinium who had come to visit the Hive, although the others, Belgrade, Anand, Bird, and Garry had all had strange interviews with the other Prognugators.

“How may I help you, Prognugator Tersk?”

“I wish to speak with you, Individual Pawn. I had wished to make your acquaintance when I heard of your existence a few days ago, but I have not seen you about until now.”

“Ah. I have been…busy.”

Tersk nodded.

“Yes. I understand you command a detachment of Soldiers. Tell me, Individual Pawn. How do you feel they would match up against a similar unit of Soldiers from my Hive?”

It was a military question, a question of tactics and analysis. Pawn stared at Tersk blankly and shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

The armored Prognugator paused. He seemed surprised by Pawn’s response.

“You don’t know? But you have levels in [Tactician].”

“Only a few. I have not fought, Prognugator Tersk. And I do not know the capabilities of your Soldiers.”

“Ah. I understand. I will signal my Soldiers to approach.”

Tersk turned his head and to Pawn’s surprise, took his mace and struck his shield with it, making a dull metallic beat that sounded like some sort of signal. And in less than a second, two Soldiers appeared, striding into the room and halting behind Tersk.

Why hadn’t he used Klbkch and Ksmvr’s inaudible way of signaling Antinium, like the Queen? Pawn’s eyes went to Tersk’s helmeted head. Oh. He didn’t have antennae.

“Here are two examples of my Hive for you, Pawn.”

Tersk indicated the two Soldiers, and Pawn noted that these Soldiers had a greatsword and a spear respectively. They stood completely still, staring ahead like Pawn’s Soldiers.

“We are the Armored Antinium, the sole Hive to use steel and metal to reinforce our bodies. We fight with weapons because they are more efficient, and allow for greater survivability of each individual in combat. We fight in formation, and are adept at battle above and below-ground. Now that you have analyzed these two Soldiers, tell me, what chance would your special unit have against them?”

“Well, there are two of them and I have over two hundred Soldiers under my command. I think we would win.”

Pawn’s reply made Tersk pause again.

“I was referring to an engagement of equal numbers.”

“Oh. In that case I don’t know.”

Pawn stared at Tersk, almost daring the Prognugator to ask another question as Tersk paused. He didn’t know why he was feeling hostile towards Tersk. Maybe it was because Tersk wasn’t fighting and Belgrade had been. Even Klbkch was leading the Antinium, when he wasn’t above-ground. But what had Tersk done for Pawn? According to Garry, all he did was wander around and ask questions. He had armor and a mace. He could be fighting!

“I understand your assessment capabilities are somewhat limited, Individual Pawn. I ask these questions to ascertain how your Hive capabilities match my own. It is a matter of strategic importance.”

“I have not heard of your Hive, Prognugator Tersk. But I am sure it is a capable one. However, I have never seen another Hive besides my own or other Antinium until recently.”

“Yes. Contact between the Hives is limited. That is a situation I feel must be rectified if we are to combine efforts.”

Tersk nodded repeatedly. He seemed so serious. Pawn felt a bit bad for being deliberately obtuse. But then Tersk turned to Pawn and began asking more questions.

“What is your class? What do you do besides lead Soldiers, Individual Pawn?”

Why did he keep calling Pawn that? The minute tolerance Pawn had felt evaporated. He answered shortly.

“I am an [Acolyte]. I pray.”

“An [Acolyte]?”

“Yes. Would you like me to repeat myself?”

Tersk paused, and his mandibles clicked together inside his helmet.

“I am unfamiliar with this class. I take it that it is unusual?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps unique. Why was Tersk asking all these questions? Pawn…didn’t feel like talking at this moment. Even to a Prognugator. It was an insidious, rebellious thought, he knew, but Tersk wasn’t his Prognugator. And Pawn hadn’t cared for Ksmvr, his former Prognugator, either. Why did he have to obey anyone, for that matter? Why did he have to obey Klbkch?

Oh. Right. He had swords. And Tersk had a mace. And two large armored Soldiers following him. Pawn grudgingly continued to talk rather than walk away.

“And what is prayer?”

“It is believing in something. It is believing, and having faith that something is true.”

Tersk waited, but that was the only answer Pawn was going to give him. The Worker crossed his arms, and Tersk noted that.

“Ah. And is this prayer activity enjoyable?”

“Not really. Not all the time.”

Tersk paused.

“It is helpful in some way?”

“Sometimes.”

There was no way of knowing. Pawn had prayed the day Soldiers lay dying, clinging to life after trying to kill themselves. Had more survived because he had prayed while trying to keep them alive? Did a prayer do anything? Pawn asked those questions every day, but he still prayed. He prayed that there was a meaning to prayer itself.

“I see. In that case, perhaps you will instruct me in the method of this prayer activity at a later date. It sounds intriguing.”

That surprised Pawn.

“Why? I doubt it would be useful to you, Tersk.”

Tersk nodded, looking thoughtful.