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

works of gleaming porcelain, the plates were beautiful to behold, but not entirely

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

a larger bite

believe you’re right. They may have increased the amount of

they ever going to stop experimenting with the

sampling bites, “I

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

tea?” the seventh prodded her sister

and laugh amongst themselves in the centre of the chamber. Around the outside, scores of ants patrolled in a never-ending cycle, with thousands more

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, by far the largest industry within the

increased. Patrols had been extended for kilometres in every direction to ensure the Dungeon provided

learned to tend to the Dungeon just as they would a garden. Overhunting would eliminate spawn points, devastating the rate of replenishment. If they hit an area too heavily, they risked reducing the diversity in that part of the Dungeon,