It only takes a couple of minutes before I’m swept into what can only be described as a tornado of well-intended coddling.

[We’ll get you back to your nest immediately,] Eran assures me.

[We managed to get all of your people off the ships,] Marzban follows up. [We received permission once the Folk spotted the Legion fleet coming in.]

[They didn’t come through a gate?]

He looks at me like I’m insane before rushing off to organise the brathian guards who are running alongside us. After a little thought, I realise that it’s unlikely the Deep Legion are allowed to use a gate to travel here, since they likely aren’t welcome.

Next to me, Grey is managing his own little firestorm as various Folk run in and out, trying to organise themselves. I mean, it seems weird that they didn’t manage to notice a fleet of their enemies sailing toward their capital, but hey, the Folk seem pretty laid back, maybe someone just forgot to pass on a message.

For my part, I keep my mandibles shut and my mind quiet while everyone around me panics and tries not to show that they’ve panicked.

Eventually other wolf-Kin appear, dressed somewhat more importantly than the other commers and goers, judging by their robes. Grey listens carefully to what they have to say before the reserved warrior clicks his tongue in irritation.

[Bad news?] I venture.

As nice as it would be to leave all the worrying to everyone else, I wouldn’t mind learning what’s going on around here.

[Of a sort. It appears the Legion fleet was granted permission to sail by the Wind Clan, which would explain why they weren’t spotted for so long.]

….

[And why is that?]

[Because the Wind Clan does much of the scouting around this mountain.]

[That might be a mistake.]

[It would appear so.]

Still, it seems odd.

[Is this wind clan close to the Legion or something? I thought you all hated them.]

The wolf-Folk raises a hand to stroke at the long grey fur of his neck.

[We don’t exactly hate the Legion. They are respected among my people as strong warriors with an unwavering sense of duty. However, we have fought against them several times, and we faced… resistance… shall we say, when establishing ourselves as a people. Rich mana caused us to become the way we are, so the Legion argued we were basically monsters, even if we weren’t born of the Dungeon.]

That’s some interesting stuff.

[Well, they already tried to wipe us out once, as you’re well aware.]

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He grunts.

[You actually are monsters. They’ll never stop trying to kill you. It’s a minor miracle they haven’t tried again.]

[We dealt with them last time.]

He chuckles.

[You really think you have seen the best of the Legion? The Praetorians are the only warriors we’ve ever seen who are superior to our blademasters one on one. As an army, they are spread out, stationed all over the Dungeon, all around Pangera. Were they to gather their strength, they would smash your Colony beneath their armoured heels.]

I’m not so naive as to think we can beat the entire Legion. We won last time because they didn’t send enough to deal with us, and the Wave pulled our butts out of the fire. I’d assumed they would keep underestimating us, but perhaps the time for that is past.

[So what happens now?] I ask.

[As it turns out, they have permission to be here, we will simply have to watch them so that they don’t attempt anything they shouldn’t while on our land.]

So saying, he falls silent and I leave him to his business. The brathian delegation appears more worried than the Folk, if I’m honest. Despite the presence of Marzban and his guards, they aren’t exactly outfitted to take on the Legion. The vast majority of our brathian colleagues on this journey are merchants, traders and craftspeople. In terms of sheer fighting power, they brought a heck of a lot less than the Colony, even if most of the ants in the fleet are carvers.

When we arrive back at the nest, predictably, it’s buzzing with activity. First of all, the carvers are going nuts performing emergency construction. With all ten thousand ants needing to be housed in a defensible nest, they certainly have their work cut out for them. Not being allowed to tunnel underground just makes everything that much harder for them.

Secondly, the soldiers, scouts and mages are very much on alert. The area around the nest is swarming with patrols as the Colony attempts to enforce some level of security around the nest.

“Eldest! Thank goodness you returned. Are we under attack?”

Sloan is agitated, which is to be expected under the circumstances. She runs up to me along with a host of other generals and scouts, an ad-hoc command post, I suppose.

“No, we aren’t under attack,” I try to soothe her. “The Legion is landing on the mountain with a fleet, that’s all.”

“The Legion?! That’s terrible!”

Emergency soothing has failed.

“Look, we don’t even know they’re here because of us. Could just be a friendly visit.”

“Is that true?”

“No.”

“So we are under attack!”

“Just calm down for a second. The Folk aren’t going to allow the Legion to just start attacking us in the middle of the city. We are guests, and so are the Legion. From what I gather, the Folk are planning on watching them very carefully to make sure they don’t start anything they shouldn’t. In the meantime, we bunker down, make sure every ant is accounted for, and wait it out. Alright?”

“We’ll do as you suggest, Eldest. I do want to ask that you consider that they may have come for you, rather than for all of us.”

“For me? Why?”

“If they identify you as a threat like they did Garralosh, won’t that mean they subject you to the same treatment?”

Oh nards. I certainly hope that isn’t the case. From what I know, the Legion does do their best to hunt down monsters who may be a candidate for becoming an Ancient. Even if I don’t want to be, I am a candidate, and I even have the Call yanking at my guts on a permanent basis to prove it. The pain hasn’t been all that bad back on the fourth, but it's getting worse day by day. Tiny little increments of pain, barely noticeable, but they add up, and eventually I realised what was happening. If I were to hang around on the fourth for a few years, it would eventually become utterly unbearable, and I’d be forced deeper just to find some relief.

Stupid Ancients.

“Look, I hope not, but if they are, then that reduces the danger to the rest of the family, which isn’t a bad thing. If we only need to keep me safe, then that’s a lot easier than protecting ten thousand individuals, and I can take care of myself for the most part.”

Sloan’s antennae twitch, but she lets that statement slide past.