Chrysalis

“The tea is excellent this season,” one queen observed.

“Indeed,” another noted, sipping again from her porcelain cup, “and the biscuits have elevated once again. This flavour is just divine.”

There was a general chorus of agreement from the “table” the gathered royalty sat around. The special seats invented by the carvers had certainly evolved since the early days. Once upon a time, they were simply a stone edifice, carved to fit the carapace of the ant who sat upon it.

The queens now rested upon seats lined with the finest leather, stuffed with the softest feathers, and coloured to each of their own personal favourite shades. Gold thread had been used to embroider and decorate each of the chairs with personalised filigree and symbols representing each of the eight gathered ants.

“They spoil us too much,” another huffed. “The waste of resources and time is simply profligate.”

“What can we do about it?” laughed the first. “We have asked them to stop, but they won’t.”

The eight gathered queens all nodded seriously in understanding. They had indeed asked their precious family to stop lavishing such extravagant gifts on them, even threatened to risk themselves as the Queen did, but to no avail.

“How are things going in the second egg-chamber?” the fourth asked. “Any interruptions or issues?”

“No,” replied the fifth in her typical blunt fashion. “We’ve been meeting our quotas easily. There seems to be plenty of Biomass to go around.”

seventh noted, “everything has been working so smoothly lately. The Brood Tenders

the plates. Exquisite works of gleaming porcelain, the plates were beautiful to behold, but not entirely practical for an ant to eat

seem a little sweeter than usual,” the second queen noted, her antennae swaying

a larger bite and

They may have increased the amount

experimenting with the snacks?” the eighth

sampling bites, “I think they may be better

refuted, “they’re too sweet. They no longer

sugar in your tea?” the seventh prodded her sister with an antenna. “You’re making a bad habit

the centre of the chamber. Around the outside, scores of ants patrolled in a never-ending cycle, with thousands more guarding the tunnels beyond the chamber, and thousands more

structure, the young. Without the queens, no young would be born, an unthinkable atrocity to the ants. Despite the size of their mining, smelting operations, or the vast fields of crops and fine tea leaves,

only increased. Patrols had been extended for

heavily, they risked reducing the diversity in that part of the Dungeon, which