The heavy, grim silence lingered. Lord Kael, the newly minted Pillar of Industry, sat hunched over the polished Darkwood table, his bronze skin taut with dread, his eyes locked onto the formidable Commander Yanrid. Kael had asked a simple question born of paternal terror, and the silence that followed was the only answer he truly needed.
Finally, Antares nodded subtly to Yanrid, granting him leave to speak.
Yanrid met the Lord's gaze, his own massive frame rigid, carrying the responsibility of command and the messenger of death.
"Lord Kael," Yanrid's voice was measured, utterly devoid of emotion, a tone carved from four months of brutal attrition. "I regret to inform you that your sons Tarin, Vorn, and Jek did not return with the final rotation, nor were they confirmed among the dead tallied from the battlefield sites."
Yanrid paused, gathering the attention of every Antman present, including the King. "During the investigation into their disappearance, we uncovered concerning rumors circulating among the supply train personnel and the antmen soldiers. The boys, Lord Kael, had become obsessed with the Godwall Mountains."
A ripple of hushed, uneasy whispers ran through the table. The Godwall was less a mountain range and more a mythic boundary.
"Rumor suggests their objective was to bypass the scouting objectives, penetrate the foothills, and bring back mineral wealth. They believed that if they returned with Gold, or Black Iron, or even a sliver of the fabled Mythril whispered to reside in the deepest veins or any kind of mineral that could help, they would secure your approval and a legacy for the Tharvok Clan," Yanrid stated plainly, presenting the facts without judgment.
The room collectively acknowledged the foolish, desperate ambition of the young Antmen. Weapons in the tribe were primarily forged from hardened monster bone and refined stone; iron was a rarity, reserved only for elite commanders. The recent discovery of ancient, powerful iron weapons within the King's Tower had only amplified the tribe's hunger for true metal. Tarin, Vorn, and Jek had clearly gambled their lives on this cultural desperation.
"We searched their last known camp thoroughly," Yanrid continued, his voice lowering to a final, tragic note. "No trace of them was found. No tracks leading back to our territory. No blood. No bodies. Not even their gear , just tracks that showed that they headed north to the Godwall mountains . If they managed to pass through the Stagfall Forest and escape the boarback meadow predators, they would now be deep within the vicinity of the Rock Caves or perhaps trying to cross the Jubba River mouth, heading toward the Godwall range itself."
Yanrid bowed his head slightly. "They were consumed, Lord Kael. The surface took them."
Lord Kael's reaction was not grief, but a sudden, violent spasm of pure fury. He slammed his fist down on the Darkwood table with such force that the heavy wood groaned in protest, and Eli and Levi instantly tensed behind Antares.
"Fools! Stubborn, arrogant fools!" Kael roared, his voice thick with betrayed parental hope, the fear finally manifesting as blinding anger. He wasn't angry at Yanrid, who had simply delivered the truth, but at the memory of his sons' reckless ambition.
He knew their goal. He had always known their dissatisfaction with forging clay tools and maintaining the old roads. They craved the dignity of working with true metal. Kael buried his head in his massive hands, his shoulders heaving once. The silence in the room now felt heavy enough to crush the lungs.
Antares watched the display, Yanrid still standing rigid like a post, waiting for the King's dismissal. The King felt a genuine wave of sympathy for Kael, but he had to temper it with iron logic. His surface forces, which had just lost a thousand men, were exhausted and required mandatory rest cycles to prevent further catastrophic attrition.
Sending a full-scale search party now would be an act of emotional recklessness, Antares realized. It would risk another hundred lives for three boys who were clearly suicidal in their ambition.
Antares shifted in his seat, his focus drawn to the imposing figures of Eli and Levi—his ever-present military shield. He raised his hand, gesturing for calm.
"Commander Yanrid, you may be seated," Antares instructed, his voice even, yet commanding. Yanrid immediately complied, disappearing back into the ranks.
Antares then addressed the grieving Kael. "Lord Kael. I understand the depth of your loss, and the recklessness of your sons' actions does not diminish your pain. They acted on ambition, however foolish. We will honor them."
He leaned slightly toward the distraught man. "I will send a dedicated research and rescue party. But the forces that survived this long winter campaign must rest. We will not risk the lives of a hundred seasoned veterans in a blind search for three souls who walked knowingly into the arms of death."
Antares then turned to Yajin Ashfang, the Clan Patriarch, who remained stoic and watchful.
"Commander Yajin," Antares commanded. "You will immediately dispatch a small, elite team of Ashfang scouts. They will be accompanied by two of the most proficient Communicator Antmen available. Their mission is not rescue, but information. They are to determine if any remains can be found, identify the exact path the boys took, and report on any new threats on the eastern approach to the Godwall Mountains. This is a reconnaissance mission, nothing more."
Yajin stood instantly, his submission respectful and absolute. "It shall be done immediately, Your Majesty. I assure you, these scouts, paired with our communicators, will maximize reach while minimizing risk."
Kael, lifting his head, nodded once, accepting the compromise. A small, elite, swift party was better than nothing, and the King's logic was unassailable. The matter of the lost sons of Tharvok was closed, replaced by a grim necessity.
Antares then pivoted to the second pillar. He turned his attention to Lady Sira Serthyn, who had remained quiet but vigilant throughout the emotional exchange, her slender hands resting neatly on the table.
"Lady Sira," Antares began. "The report on the surface yield was satisfactory, but a yield of resources is only as valuable as the time it affords us. How long will our total current provisions last, and what is your best strategy for resource management moving forward?"
Lady Sira rose immediately, projecting quiet authority that commanded attention. "Your Majesty, based on the successful surface foraging run and the current size of our population, the meat stores, properly smoked, will sustain us for approximately three months."
She paused for dramatic effect. "Crucially, the winter is giving way to spring. This will immediately attract massive wild game herds to the nearby Boarback Meadow and Stagfall Forest. Our true buffer, however, is underground: the Celcane harvest was exceptionally bountiful this cycle. The Celcane crop, the Ant Kings's greatest agricultural achievement is what prevents immediate scarcity."
The Celcane, a nutritious green tuber that was the staple food of the Ant Tribe.
"However," Lady Sira continued, her voice gaining a sharper, more urgent edge, "Our long-term vulnerability is external trade. The trading season is approaching, and with it, the Bloodbeard Pirates."
Antares leaned forward, recognizing the crucial role this group played.
"They are, regrettably, our primary and most reliable source for external goods. They sail to the tropical southern coast, a treacherous, warm zone we do not inhabit due to the sheer danger posed by the endemic beasts. It is precisely because the coast is so far from our settlement, and near the warmer side of the Godwall, that the pirates find it safe enough for anchorage."
She explained their dependency: "We rely heavily on the Bloodbeards for necessities: wheat, barley, processed bread, high-grade mana crystals, and, most critically, potions and finished iron weapons that we sometimes can not afford. Our currency is our unique product: our deep purple juice refined from the Midnight Violet flowers we cultivate, and processed Celcane tubers. Sometimes, they also accept rare monster parts."
Antares recalled the geographical uniqueness of his realm. The Godwall Mountains, located to the south, were not just rich in mana, but they acted as a continental wall separating them from the dangers beyond. The Jubba River originates in these mountains and flows south into the Antmen territory, where it breaks into several smaller rivers and lakes before the main current empties into the Southern Ocean. This water system is vital, but the coast itself is too dangerous for permanent settlement, forcing them into reliance on dangerous traders like the pirates who docked far south. On the far side of the Godwall lay the desolate Dead Wastelands, the cursed home of the hated Goblins who had in the past invaded the antmen's territory and they had been at war several times, even king Alexis Antis, Antares' father died in battle against the vile goblins. This geopolitical isolation was both a defense and a curse.
"Lady Sira, setting aside external trade for a moment: are there any immediate, untapped resources within the colony that we can exploit for construction or trade purposes to lessen this dependency?" Antares asked.
It was Lord Kael who answered, leaning forward, eager to redeem his clan after the tragic news.
"Your Majesty, yes! The Clay Pits!" Kael exclaimed, his voice regaining some of its old pride. "My Tharvok clansmen manually extract the clay from the vast pits located in the lowest levels. This isn't common mud. This clay is intensely rich in ambient mana, making it naturally highly resistant and strong when baked."
He gestured around the room. "Almost every permanent structure in the entire settlement is built with it—all the houses, the barracks, and even the main structure of the Emberhive Hive Castle itself. That castle was constructed during the First Ant King's time, and look at it! It stands unblemished, thanks to the clay."
Kael then pointed toward the walls of the palace they occupied. "Only the Royal Palace, this building we are in now, is different. It is constructed from a stone material unfamiliar even to the oldest Tharvok masters. Only the First King knew its origin. It truly is a mythical material."
Antares filed that last detail away for later investigation. The palace itself is a mystery.
He looked seriously at his four pillars. He had a thousand dead soldiers, a crisis of mineral resource (Godwall), an external dependency (Pirates), and an internal time bomb (food scarcity).
Antares fixed his gaze across the table, finally settling on Lord Velas Arcanis, the Patriarch of the knowledge keepers. Velas had remained utterly silent during the violence, the grief, and the reports, a deep, unsettling stillness clinging to him.
"Lord Velas," Antares said, his tone shifting to one of pointed demand. "Commander Yajin has reported on our military failures. Lady Sira has detailed our resource vulnerability. Lord Kael has identified our primary industrial base."
Antares leaned back in his seat, the King giving the ancient scholar the full weight of his focus.
"Tell me, Lord Velas. Is there anything you would like to share with the council?"
(Communicator antmen are antmen who have developed their antennas and can communicate with other antmen telepathically and have great sensory abilities.)