After the events in the Tower, the palace felt strangely quiet. Antares sat in the war room, the flickering torchlight dancing across the maps on the table. He turned to Ian, who was already writing down things he wanted Ian to take care of.
The old butler was not going to get rest anytime soon.
"Ian, the Queen remains in Tower. Prepare a steady rotation of supplies for the Cradle-Wardens. They aren't soldiers, but their work is more vital than any guard's right now. And about the food..." Antares leaned forward, his voice low and gravelly. "My intuition tells me that the brood needs something more than just regular food. They need sustenance food with rich in mana to reach their full potential."
Ian's weathered face brightened as if a puzzle piece had clicked into place. "As it happens, Sire, we have exactly what you describe. The Ashfang clan delivered a tribute after the recent exploration during the winter. Commander Yanrid himself brought down a Terror Fowl on the surface after it ambushed a foraging party. It's a massive beast, easily the size of a carriage."
"A Terror Fowl," Antares mused. He knew of the creatures, he read about in the library of the palace, It's an over grown bird with serrated beaks and muscles reinforced by raw mana.
"Indeed," Ian continued. "The meat is dense with energy. I had originally planned to sell the carcass to the Redbeard Pirates in the south to get premium items since the bones , blood and feathers alone would fetch a high price. But if the brood requires it..."
"Cancel the trade," Antares interrupted firmly. "Have the beast butchered immediately. Send the prime cuts to the Brood Chambers. Solara will know what to do with it once the hatching begins. And Ian? Send significantly more standard rations as well. I have a feeling that once those eggs reach the larvae stage, their hunger will be legendary."
Ian bowed low. "It shall be done, my King."
As Ian hurried off to manage the butchery, Antares gestured for Eli and Levi to take their posts outside. Only Zarah remained, her arms crossed as she leaned against a stone pillar, watching him with a knowing smirk.
"She fought you, didn't she?" Zarah asked, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and pride.
Antares sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he slumped into a chair. "She nearly transformed into her ant queen form again just to prove a point. She refuses to leave the eggs, Zarah. I told her the palace was safer and better and she looked at me as if I were a stranger suggesting she abandon her heart in a dark room in this case her children or so she calls them."
Zarah walked over, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. She let out a silver laugh that echoed through the vaulted hall. "Antares, she is a Queen now. And a mother. You might be the King of the ant tribe, the one who gives the orders to the clans, but in that nursery, she is the supreme law. Her instinct is tied to those eggs by a thread of magic you and I can't fully grasp. I'd have done the exact same thing."
"I felt defeated," Antares admitted with a dry chuckle. "I realized that no matter how much time I spend arguing with her or how much authority I claim, I cannot win an argument against a Mother's bond."
"Good," Zarah teased. "It means you're learning. She's not just a singer anymore or an orphan caretaker, she's one of the pillar of the tribe now."
Once Zarah left to oversee the evening drills, Antares retreated to his private office. He spent the next hour drafting missives to all the clan leaders. He informed them of Solara's development and the creation of the Red Sons. With the surface expedition looming, he needed every head to be on the same page.
Silence eventually settled over the office, broken only by the crackle of a light crystal lamp. Antares's gaze drifted to the wall, where a weapon hung in the place of honor.
It was the sword of his father, Alexis Antis. The goblinebane.
Antares stood and approached the weapon. The blade was long, narrow, and straight, tapering to a needle-sharp point, a sword-spear hybrid ideal for precise, lethal strikes. The metal itself appeared golden, shimmering with a regal, enchanted glow. The guard was a short, angular cross guard, simple but sturdy, while the handle was long enough for a firm two-handed grip. It was the blade that had tasted the blood of a thousand goblins.
Antares took the sword down, feeling its immense weight and perfect balance. As he removed it from its scabbard and swung it through the air, it emitted a faint, sharp hum. Sparks danced along the edges upon the slightest vibration, as if the steel were hungry for impact.
"I won't stay on the sidelines," Antares whispered to the empty room. "A King who only watches his soldiers die is no King at all. I will lead from the front, just as he did." he said as he remembered his late father.
Antares headed to the deserted training grounds in the palace . The air was still and cool, the only light coming from the glowing moss on the ceiling. He tied heavy rocks to his forearms with thick leather straps, the added weight pulling painfully at his joints.
For hours, he swung the golden blade. He practiced the moves he had been memorizing from his father's old journals, thrusting, parrying, and performing wide, sweeping arcs that cleared the air with a whistle. He went at it all night long, the sweat stinging his eyes and soaking his tunic. He pushed through the exhaustion until his lungs burned and his muscles felt like they were being carved by knives.
The "night" dragged on in the eternal darkness of the underground settlement of the ant tribe. By the time his body finally gave out, he could barely sheathe the sword. He returned to his chambers, the silence of the palace pressing in on him. He bathed quickly to wash away the salt and grit, the water soothing his trembling limbs. When he finally collapsed into bed, Zarah was already there, pulling him into her warmth. Her silent presence was the final comfort he needed before drifting into a deep, heavy sleep.
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Meanwhile, far from the warmth of the palace, a different kind of fire was stirring.
The search party sent by Yajin had finally finished their grueling trek across the forests of northern ant tribe settlement. They stood now at the jagged, obsidian base of the Godwall Mountain. The wind howled through the ravines, cold and unforgiving.
The leader of the party, a scarred man with eyes like flint, looked up at the towering, fog-shrouded peaks that reached toward the surface. "Lord Kael's sons must be up there somewhere," he hissed, his voice barely audible over the gale. "Our search begins now. Leave no cave unexplored. If they breathe, we take them back ."
"And if they are... dead?" A veteran communicator antman who had survived several perilous missions like this, asked, he had been a vital asset in their journey to the Godwall mountain. He tracked the boys up to here.
"Then we take back their remains to their father." the leader of the search party answered.