Chrysalis

Despite most of the peoples of Pangera using their own form of currency - even the bruan’chii used something they called a ‘soul chip’ to trade amongst themselves - there was one universal unit of wealth that was good for business everywhere in the Dungeon.

Cores.

Which was why Smithant and Cobalt had brought a healthy supply from the Colony’s stores with them on this trip, though they had begun to suspect that they may have brought too many. Their brathian guide couldn’t resist sending covetous glances towards their carry bags, strapped to their carapace, though she tried to hide it.

“Everything is so spread apart,” Smithant huffed. “It’s inefficient.”

“It is,” Cobalt agreed, “but it does allow room for specialities to bloom. If everyone were forced to compete in proximity to each other, every stall would be the same.”

It was taking a long time to get from market to market; each district of Freehill was a sprawling mass of houses, shops, schools, fighting arenas, seemingly without much planning having gone into the layout. It was apparent that much of the growth was organic, new things being constructed when it was found to be necessary, and placed wherever the people at the time thought it would make sense. It deeply offended the ants.

Yet, it wasn’t their place to criticise others’ way of living, they were out looking for trade, and were having greatly mixed levels of success.

[What is this store?] Cobalt asked their guide.

Irisod read the sign and sighed.

[It is ‘Big Hogs Swarthy Swords’.]

seem

of the

quality goods, so they

quickly became apparent inside, as they were confronted with the clientele. Large, pinkish-skinned and snout-nosed Folk turned to stare at the two monsters, wondering what the

trade, with permission of the Council,” Irisod assured everyone, holding up the official documents in case anyone wanted to

Nobody did.

looking down at the two ants.

be aware that

Having monsters in

without hesitation, her antennae twitching as she took in the

bearing a huge, two-handed blade. He thunked it down on the counter and invited the ants

only was the metal refined to the highest purity, not only were the weapons perfectly shaped and balanced, not only was the enchanting smooth and faultless, it was the extra details, the flourishes, the colours, the inscriptions. Everything was done to invoke the spirit of the sword as the

steel. What sort of temperature did they fire this, to get that effect? Or was

injecting some logic. “We can’t even use swords, so I don’t think it’s necessary for us to spend all that much on them, regardless of how well-made they

make swords for the humans,” Smithant pointed out, “and techniques for making good blades can also

needed to be adjusted and fitted to the ant who used them, but a sharpened and enchanted set of barbs that

much this costs?] Cobalt

some back and forth, the mage

In my opinion, this is overpriced by as much

grumbled, still prodding the sword with