Above the hidden world of the Antmen, the world was weeping. The harsh, suffocating grip of winter was finally beginning to loosen, replaced by the relentless drip of melting ice and the smell of damp, awakening earth. The season of Spring had arrived, bringing with it a pale, watery sun that struggled to pierce the persistent gray clouds.
Dominating the desolate landscape stood a Withered Ant Tower. Once a spire of architectural genius that touched the clouds—a symbol of the tribe's undisputed reign,built during the age of the first ant king when it was at it peak, now stood as a skeletal, blackened husk. Its jagged, broken edges pierced the skyline like a warning, a tombstone for an empire that would surface soon bringing the end of the world belief of it's extinction.
At the feet of the tower lay the camp of the foraging units, hundreds of withered tents lay near the tower, they have been damaged by the harsh winter but still served their purpose of providing shelter to the foraging units on the surface this is where they camped and stored their loot before heading back to their beloved underground world, and it was the only settlement apart from the underground city though it was only used during foraging missions.
Several hundred meters below this silent sentinel and the empty camp, past a labyrinth of puzzling, crisscrossing tunnels and trap-laden corridors, lay the beating heart of the tribe. The silence of the upper crust vanished here, replaced by the rhythmic clanging of hammers and the low, steady hum of thousands of lives moving in unison.
In the heart of the palace, the doors to the War Room swung open. Antares entered with a grace that bordered on the predatory. He wore no crown, Kael had insisted on forging one for him but he said that he did not need one at the moment, but the sheer weight of his presence made the title of "King" redundant.
Seated around a massive obsidian table were the patriarchs and officers of his rising nation. Yajin of the Ashfang, Kael of the Tharvok, the lord commander of the foraging units Yanrid, the old yet unpredictable Velas of the Arcanis clan and Lady Sira all stood in a synchronized motion, bowing deeply as their King approached the head of the table.
Antares reached his seat and raised a hand, a sharp, silent signal. "Be seated."
The heavy rustle of armor and robes filled the room as they complied. Antares didn't waste time with flowery introductions. He looked directly at Yajin. "Any news from the search part sent to the Godwall mountain." he asked already knowing the answer
Yajin leaned forward, his scarred face grim but focused. "Sire, the search party I dispatched has reached the foot of the Godwall Mountain. They have confirmed they have found signs that the three boys are still alive, they are searching for them as we speak."
Kael let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping for the first time in months. His sons were alive, and the rescue was within reach.
"And the forges, Kael?" Antares asked, removing Kael from his thoughts "Ready, my King," Kael said, his voice regaining its strength. "The weapons and armor have been fully repaired and maintained. Every blade is sharp, and every plate is polished. We only await your command to distribute the gear to the four thousand."
Antares shifted his gaze to Yanrid. "The foraging units. They've been through a brutal winter campaign. Have they had enough rest?"
Yanrid nodded calmly. "The majority have recovered, Sire. They are fed, rested and they are ready to be deployed."
Antares felt a sense of calmness. He had been worried about pushing the foragers too hard, but hearing Yanrid's report settled his mind. He then turned to Lady Sira.
"The Ice Chambers?"
"They are wonderful, Sire," Lady Sira replied, her dark-brown skin glowing in the torchlight. "The preservation is better than we ever hoped. It is no longer an administrative headache to manage the food; the distribution is orderly and the waste is non-existent."
Finally, Antares looked to his right. There sat Ian. During Antares's long slumber, the old butler had acted as Regent. Now, Antares had officially promoted him to Prime Minister. Ian did not look like a man who had won a promotion; he looked like a man who hadn't slept in weeks. With deep bags under his eyes, he offered a wry, tired smile, likely dreaming of the killing workload Antares had prepared for him.
"Sire, the state of our population is stabilizing," Ian began, unrolling a long ledger and adjusting his spectacles. He explained that the central tribe now holds twelve thousand civilians who form the backbone of their labor and settlement. Supporting them is the Royal Army, a force of four thousand soldiers who are now fully armed and trained for the coming heat. When factoring in the Ashfang, Arcanis, and other clans, Ian estimated their total tribal strength sits between 23,000 and 25,000 individuals.
"Our provisions are currently stable," Ian continued, his quill tapping the table. "However, the grain we secured from the Redbeard Pirates is nearing its end. If we wish to keep the people on a standard diet, we must send a trade group south to the coast to negotiate with the pirates again. That said, it is not a desperate 'must.' We have cultivated enough Celcanes and we even have surplus from the last harvest, we can use it to act as a substitute. We can survive on them if the trade routes are blocked, though the people will complain about the lack of grain and bread."
Ian went on to explain the contributions of each clan, detailing how the resources were being effectively distributed so that every member of the tribe benefited from the recent foraging campaign.
Antares listened intently, realizing that the role of King was far more complex than just planning wars; it was a constant battle of logistics and management. he had tens of thousands that depended on him and he was not going to fail them.
The room went silent as Ian finished. Antares looked at each of them, his mind calculating. He knew about the search party at the Godwall. He knew the Red Sons needed more than just grain and bread.
"I have heard your reports," Antares said, his voice dropping into a register that commanded absolute silence. "We will not wait for the grain to run out, and we will not wait for the enemy to grow comfortable at our borders."
He stood up, his shadow stretching long across the map of the surface.
"The foraging units, supported by the army, will be ready in one week. We are going to the surface."
The announcement hit the room like a physical blow. Some of the officers nearly choked in shock. Even with their reserves holding, this was much earlier than expected.
"One week, Sire?" Yajin asked. "The transition to spring is always volatile."
"Exactly," Antares said, his eyes flashing. "We strike while the iron is hot. The surface world has forgotten the shadow of the Ant King. We go out not just to hunt, but to assert our dominance. Kael, distribute the armors and weapons to the army. Yanrid, prep the scouts and your men. Ian... try to sleep. You'll be needed more then ever you and your strength for the logistics in this battle of dominance."
As he walked out, the room erupted into a flurry of panicked, excited activity. The Ant King was moving, and the world above was about to find out that spring didn't just bring flowers, it brought the return of a legend and anyone who would stand in his way would feel his fury.