To my knowledge, every time in our brief history together with the ants and the royals had made themselves known, there'd been a pattern. The ants around the mouth of the hole that led downward started acting differently before we had any information. Then, after one of my people approached, it wouldn't be long before they would have the ants touch on their mind. Given the communications we'd had before, I'd expected much the same thing when I finally engaged in talks with this qualified decisionmaker. That was, in fact, not what happened this time.
When the suns rose and the snow had long since melted on all but the tops of the highest peaks, the ants near the surface changed. No longer were the slightly different breed of ants we were asked to hunt present. Not at the entrance found in the middle of our city, nor in any direction for at least a half dozen miles in any direction. Instead, the large, dark ants of our nameless possible ally were all that could be seen, and whenever one of my people approached, the ant would snap its massive mandibles several times in a threat before backing themselves into the underground. When I myself approached, there was no difference, and I had no idea of what was happening.
Days passed like that, my hatchlings going without opportunities to hunt or to train on the enemy ants, and I forced myself to the mouth of the cave and shouted down for an answer. Nothing happened at first, though the slight noises of moving ants along with my [Tremorsense] reminded me that they surrounded the mouth of the burrow. Finally, the touch of a foreign mind made itself known in my mind, though it was the first time that one of the Royals showed any haste or frustration..
What is it?
The touch of the insect's mind was hurried and tense. "Is the person that I'm supposed to be talking to here? Or is there something happening that I should be concerned about?"
She has not arrived. A reception area has not yet been prepared. It will take time. Why are you bothering us?
Deciding to be honest, I answered, "My little ones have been training on your enemy ants. It would seem that your extermination of them nearby has been continuing apace at such a level that my young are unable to learn what they need to to survive."
The young must learn, she agreed, but the young do not exist without the mother. There will be none of the usurpers found nearby. Find other subjects for their hunts.
As they so frequently were, the ant was entirely inflexible, and I didn't want to continue to have to deal with her terse attitude. Instead, I nodded once and bid her farewell, as I turned to find out what to do to keep the little ones occupied. Fortunately, that question was answered as two of the stir–crazy Alphas got it into their heads to fight for dominance between them. Since they'd been kept busy and focused on leading their packs, there had been precious little opportunity for them to feel any desire to fight directly amongst themselves, instead only competing through the results of their packs. Now, with excess energy and continuous growth, they demanded some measure of satisfaction for perceived slights from each other.
They would give themselves options to grow, I decided.
Every member of the Empire had seen the fighting pits. Differently from what the other peoples thought of us, the Saharliard gloried in victory and conquest, not in slaughter, and watching and participating in victory over a worthy foe was always an exciting moment. As the little ones realized that they were being taken into the fighting pits to themselves fight for dominance, their unimportant anger washed away at the prospect of becoming conquerors.
"I'm taking you to fight. This will not change the organization of any of your packs." I explained once the little ones were all prepared to listen. "There is no shame in loss, so long as you use that to your advantage, to learn what you have neglected while seeking opportunities for victory in the future. There is glory and victory, yes, but do not become complacent in such a shallow combat. These are not your enemies you fight today. These are your fellows, those of your same brood. In a few short months, you will stand at their shoulders and fight for your lives, trusting your backs to them. Do not lose yourselves in resentment, but find victory, victory even through loss. The victories and conquests you find later will be the more lasting and glorious kind. Through the flaming crucible of war are we refined, and this is your first step into the flames of Nievtala's refinement. Now fight, but do not kill. Victory! Victory by fang and blood!"
The hatchlings grew more and more rowdy with every moment, pushing off of each other and screeching adorable battle cries as they looked for the pack that would be their enemy. I'd only entered into the sand pits with Vefir's approval, and several of his healing–capable Sou'Tal stood nearby as the organization of the small tournament occurred. Before long, the first two packs were led into the pits, each group of hatchlings standing on each side, about 30 feet away from each other. I stepped into the middle, acting as the referee and leader of the event, and ordered them to begin. I jumped back and watched as the shrieking bodies smashed together, fangs and claws flashing as they fought for dominance. Their immature movements made me smile, seeing the way they struggled for every advantage they could gain.
Each little battle continued, their excited shrieks or disappointed wails filling the air depending upon the results of their fights. Finally, after several days of this, all of the hatchlings had fought amongst themselves and established a rough estimation of which pack was the strongest, and which tactics worked against some. Through it all, I found that these war games were a remarkably effective way of teaching the little ones battle instead of simple combat. Strategies were formed, rudimentary though they may be, and after each fight, they retreated back to little dugouts where they would discuss in which ways they have been successful in which ways they had overestimated their own capabilities or those of their enemies. Little commanders began to rise, those who would direct the pack during pitched battles, even if they weren't the strongest or the Alpha other times.
Before long, I found myself enjoying the little exercise nearly as much as the competitive children did. After days of seeing their quick improvement, I caught myself wishing that I had had those opportunities myself. Instead of games of strategy, though, we'd been an uncivilized people, where strategy wasn't considered and victory was wrested through blood and slaughter.
Finally, after what I thought to be three weeks of the ants working on preparing whatever they were preparing underground, a pair of royal ants approached me. Never before had I seen more than one at a time, and each was surrounded by their little battalion of guards as both minds touched mine in tandem.
The youngmother will see you now.
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