Freehill is buzzing. The Folk seem to love music, dancing, and fighting in pretty much equal measure. As tall as I am, I can see over the roofs of the buildings that line the wide street I’m led down, and pretty much everywhere I look there is either an impromptu hoe-down, or a group of cheering Folk watching some brawlers throw down. In fact, I catch glimpses of straight up fighting pits in the distance, with rows of wooden benches circling a sand-filled arena.

At the end of the dock, Eran introduces herself to two tough-looking individuals, each bearing large blades on their backs. The first is dressed in loose black robes with a dog-like snout and a nasty scar, the other seems… rabbit-ish? She doesn’t have the ears, but there’s something about the nose that speaks to me of whiskers.

Without a word, to me at least, they fall in beside me, one on either side, and Eran continues to lead the way. Her own brathian guards, along with Marzban and the rest of her family, are with her, of course, but plenty of locals have wriggled into the entourage as well. Like a conductor, Eran Thouris deals with each of them in the correct timing, reassuring this one, placating that one and dismissing the third.

For my part, I just keep my eyes open… metaphorically… and take in the sights. My two guards appear quite bored as they stroll along by my sides, but the people on the street give us a wide berth, which suits me just fine, I’m not trying to stand on anyone.

Eventually we come to a nice-looking building, three storey’s high, constructed from polished beams of a wood I don’t quite recognise. The best thing about the place is that it adjoins one of those gaps between the various clusters of habitation that make up Freehill. Which means my ant brethren and I have somewhere to stay. Only a thousand of us are allowed off the ships at one time, so numbers will have to be rotated. I feel bad, but I’m not going back on board, which means twenty-one slots are more or less permanently filled.

[So… do we just sleep out in the open, or are we allowed to whip something up real quick?]

I ask Eran, but it’s Marzban who answers.

[Let me talk to your security.]

He walks over to one of the guards and respectfully engages them in conversation. The rabbit lady doesn’t seem to care that much, pointing to the field and shrugging, then pointing to me.

[As long as you don’t tunnel below ground level, and as long as you specifically aren’t out of their sight, they don’t mind.]

Oh, nice.

Good thing Cobalt is around. She and a few other ants have followed along in my wake, waiting to see where the rest of our siblings would be allowed to stay.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Hey, Cobalt. We can make a nest in this field apparently. We aren’t allowed to dig below surface level, though. Everything above ground.”

“That’s quite accommodating of them,” she says, relieved. “I was worried we would need to rest out in the open.”

The two of us shudder. The other ants have been comfortably packed below decks, but I’ve had to suffer under the open sky! Given the choice, I’m sure all of them would rather sleep in the ships than be without a roof over their head.

I find a spot to stand, unwilling to plonk myself on the ground so soon after being freed from the ship, while Cobalt heads back to the dock, returning with a workforce of several hundred carvers. As soon as they arrive, they get to work, conjuring up the earth and stone they need to throw together a temporary, but comfortable nest.

In the meantime, I try to reach out to one of my guards with a mind bridge.

[So… am I allowed to talk to you?]

[If you want to,] the dog-guy yawns.

Seriously, these two seem extremely relaxed for people on guard duty.

[I was wondering if either of you had heard of Grey? Or White? They were some Folk that I met before, up on the second stratum.]

The dog-guy frowns, thinking, then replies in the negative.

[Not that I can think of. There are a lot of us around.]

[I think Grey is a blademaster, if that means anything.]

[It… does. You met a blademaster, on the second?]

He sounds a little baffled.

[Yeah, he was travelling with his student, White. Why are you looking at me like that?]

[I’m… just surprised he didn’t kill you.]

[Why would he kill us? We’re friendly!]

[Monster hunting is one of the main ways we make our living,] he says, looking at my carapace in a decidedly mercantile way. [And you look pretty valuable for an ant.]

[Hey, I resent that. For one thing, every ant is valuable, and second, I would kick your butt all up and down the street if one of you tried to get your mitts on my core.]

He grins, and all of a sudden he looks a lot more wolfish than he does dog-ish.

[Is that a challenge?] he asks, sounding intent.

I shrug my antennae.

[What does that mean? If I say yes, do we fight to the death or something?]

[No. We engage in honourable combat to determine a victor before witnesses.]

I look down at him, trying not to be insulting.

[Are you sure you even want that? You’re just a little guy, after all. Wouldn’t you need to bring a few friends if you want to beat a monster like me?]

The rabbit-Folk is openly laughing by the time I’m done, and the dog-Folk is looking even more aggressive.

[Oh, you’ve said it now. Are you going to accept my challenge, or not?]

I’ve been cooped up on a ship for a week, I’m happy to stretch my legs… and brains… and mandibles.

[Alright, sure. I’ll try not to hurt you.]