The Bitter Beginning, Chapter Five: The Arrival

Thit had never been more proud to be a soldier of Halite. Her company had been selected to proudly escort the Sodden Pontiff’s party into Feldspar. His three closest followers, known as the Three Clerics, accompanied the Sodden Pontiff. There was the Cleric of Rain, who preached equality for all who follow The Order, the Cleric of the Sea, who put an emphasis on prayer and miracles, and the Cleric of Rivers, who reminded the followers of The Order to stay the course, and maintain discipline. Hundreds of Drenched Priests also came along into the city. They made it their mission to preach on every street corner of Feldspar. Thit’s company was tasked to keep an eye on the locals, in the unlikely scenario that they felt the need to rebel against their own savior or any of his followers.

 “This city is beautiful, Thit!” said Hawn. Hawn was Thit’s bunkmate. She was a soldier from a small salt mining town on the outskirts of Halite. She was big, and stronger than Thit. She could easily throw down Thit during combat exercises. Thit always felt safer with Hawn at her side.

“It’s even more impressive than I had imagined,” said Thit. The entire city fit onto a giant bridge that was almost as wide as it was long. It was built with enormous stones that seemed impossible to move.

“Do you believe the story of this place?” asked Hawn.

“There are many stories of this place, which one do you mean?” asked Thit.

“The creation story!” said Hawn. “Look at these enormous stones,” she said, gesturing along tall the city walls. “It is said that the Great Creators built this bridge long long ago. Long before the first empire was established, even before our species was given the gift. Before our ancient ancestors even began walking on two legs, the Creators built this land for us.” Hawn gazed all around the city. “Could you imagine, Thit? Back when our species lived underground, only a queen could be fertile, and only a winged drone could procreate, giants roamed this land, creating wonders like this bridge, all for us!”

“Those are just stories, Hawn,” said Thit, dismissively. “I don’t know how this world was created, but I don’t believe that mystical gods, seventy times our size, created it.”

“You don’t believe in the Creators, Thit? Then who built this bridge, our ancestors?” asked, Hawn.

Thit shrugged. “Maybe they were stronger and smarter than we give them credit for. If these all-powerful, giant, intelligent Creators really did exist, then what happened to them? Where did they go?”

Thit’s question seemed to puzzle Hawn. It was as if she had never given the creator story any thought. “Maybe they moved away. Maybe they left during the rise of the first empire,” said Hawn.

“Maybe…” Thit decided not to engage Hawn in hypotheticals. “I only believe in one god, Hawn, and it’s flowing beneath the very bridge we’re standing on.”  

The bridge was built from white granite, stained brown and green with age. Most of the buildings were made of wood, mud, or a pink stone found locally. The city was organized into a clean grid pattern. Feldspar had a long history of warfare due to its prime location, and it was built to withstand a siege from any direction. Pink and green banners of Feldspar hung on almost every building in the city. They clashed with the blue and white banners of Halite as the Sodden Pontiff’s parade of almost a thousand made its way toward the city center.

In the middle of the bridge, in the exact center of the city, the Tower of Feldspar dominated the its surroundings. It was a tall and thin, yet very sturdy pink stone tower that spiraled upwards until it thinned to a sharp point. It looked like the twisted tip of a long spear. The Queen of Queens resided in the tower, and she was gracious enough to let the Sodden Pontiff and the Three Clerics into her tower for a welcome dinner. Tonight it was simply the four of them. Tomorrow would be the real negotiations with the Councilants involved. Thit didn’t trust the Councilants. She believed they could manipulate everyone around them, even the Queens.  

There was a strange mood in the city. It was festively decorated with banners, and colorful lanterns hung overhead in preparation of the nighttime festivities. Grasska was being sold on the streets to workers who wore their best clothes. Bards sang songs and musicians played along, but a lot of them seemed to show fake enthusiasm. The most powerful and important ants from all of the Empire and the coast were here, yet there was a feeling of sadness and unease.

Most of the workers along the streets stared at the Sodden Pontiff’s parade with harmless curiosity, casually sipping their grasska. Some looked more helpless than curious, like they were watching their city get conquered. A few simply frowned. They looked on at the parade with anger. The Queen of Queens died earlier that morning and Thit expected the inlanders to be upset, but this seemed different. There was a tension in the air that Thit was somehow able to feel. It was as if the coastals were not wanted in Feldspar. It seemed like the entire city held a welcome banner attached to a spear pointed at the Sodden Pontiff and his followers.   

“I think we need to stay alert here, Hawn,” said Thit. Hawn was still soaking in the city, but she paused to look at Thit. At first, Hawn looked at Thit puzzled, but then nodded in agreement.

The parade began to thin out as they neared the central tower. The Drenched Priests began to wander. Commander Vel instructed the company to pair off, make friends with the locals, and keep an eye on the Drenched Priests. The Sodden Pontiff and the Three Clerics took a small number of personal guards and went into the Tower of Feldspar. They wanted to be protected, but they didn’t want to show any suspicion either.

 Thit and Hawn paired up and headed toward a crowded open market nearby, where several Drenched Priests were already preaching. The market was crawling with merchants, drunks, shoppers, and Feldsparian City Watch. The two soldiers headed toward one corner where a priest had gathered a particularly large crowd. Thit adjusted her armor as they approached the crowd. She had been experiencing aches and pains all morning and into the afternoon. Her armor seemed tighter. She must have built up a lot of extra strength during the grueling march to Feldspar.

“It is the life blood of all of us!” boomed the Drenched Priest. “It flows through the middle of the Empire, right underneath us! It was once the heart of the Empire’s economy, but for too long we have taken this blessing for granted.” The priest’s voice calmed. “The drought was our punishment, but that wasn't enough. Our river not only lowered, but it became poisoned. Millions died. Thousands still suffer. The river below us is polluted because your Old Queens refuse to adapt to change! Your Queen of Queens is dead because she wouldn't accept The Order!” Thit tensed up. She thought the priest might have gone too far. A few ants left, but nothing else happened, and the priest continued on without hesitation. “Our savior, your savior, has found a new way to bring our great empire back to life again. He had a vision in his dreams, and our god showed him how to filter water through the rocks under the great salt shore! The drought and the poisoning of our river was indeed our punishment, and the miracle that the Sodden Pontiff himself performed is our chance at redemption! Follow him! Follow us! Follow the flow, The Order of the Holy Droplet!”

Thit scanned the crowd as the priest continued. She took a deep breath. Something was wrong. Her vision blurred. Her antennae began to twitch. A sharp pain struck her in her head. It was as if a lightning bolt snapped right through her. She heard an old voice. Hello? She almost collapsed right there in the market, but right before her legs gave in, all the pain went away, and she was back to normal.

“Thit?” asked Hawn. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Thit shook herself off. “I’m fine,” she said. Her vision slowly began to clear up again. She continued to look around the crowd, and a group of four ants caught her eye. Three older ants and a young one. They slowly headed into a pub on the other side of the market. “Look, Hawn,” said Thit, pointing across the market. “It’s Astor Gorzae, the last bird rider.”

Hawn’s antennae perked up. She strained her eyes in the direction that Thit pointed. “You’re right! It is!” said Hawn. “And that must be Zidney of Muscovite, and Strom of Galena along with him. Who’s the fourth one though?”

“I’m not sure,” said Thit. The fourth ant stood close to Astor Gorzae. He looked like a Royal Guard. He was dressed in the polished bronze armor with black and gold trim that all Royal Guards wore. At that moment, he took off his helmet with its black and gold plume. He held the helmet in his two lower hands, and massaged his head with his other two. The guard stood there for a bit, but then abruptly stopped massaging his head and caught Thit’s eyes from all the way across the market. After a brief moment of staring, he turned, adjusted the plate armor on his back, and continued on into the pub behind the Royal Councilants. Thit was taken aback by the Royal Guard’s stare. She also thought it was strange that only one of the Councilants deemed it necessary to be accompanied by his Royal Guard. It was stranger still that this particular guard was clearly not a soldier. He was small, though not smaller than an average worker. “Something about that guard seems suspicious,” said Thit. “We should investigate. See what they’re up to.”

Thit took a step toward the pub on the other side of the market, but Hawn grabbed one of her arms. “No, Thit. Our job is to watch over the Drenched Priests, not to go pester the Royal Councilants. What if one of the Priests gets assaulted while we we’re gone? Our Savior would not like to hear that.”

“The City Watch will protect them,” said Thit.

“Do you really believe that they will, Thit?” asked Hawn. “I don’t trust the City Watch of Feldspar, so I know you don’t. Besides, we don’t have any type of authority on Royal Councilants.” Hawn let go of Thit’s arm.

“But we do have weapons,” said Thit as she knocked the butt of her spear on the stone road.

“As does that Royal Guard,” said Hawn.

“He’s small.”

“That may be, but he may also be dangerous. Maybe there’s a reason it’s him following the Councilants and not a bigger soldier. And what do you plan on doing, anyway? Are you going to intimidate the Royal Councilants with your spear? How do you suppose they’ll respond to that?”

“You’ve heard the rumors, Hawn,” said Thit. “The inlanders are up to something.”

“I know, Thit. But we have to follow our orders. Our Savior has a plan, and showing our weapons to the Royal Councilants in a pub right now is not a part of that plan.”

Thit knew Hawn was right, but she still felt an urge to go into that pub. She did her best to fight that urge, and continued on with Hawn, patrolling the market, and checking up on the Drenched Priests. For close to an hour, Thit and Hawn wandered around the market, and the surrounding roads. Things seemed calm. They had a couple friendly encounters with the City Watch, and even more encounters with Halitian soldiers from their own company. There was still a tension in the air, but it seemed like nobody was willing to act.  Thit and Hawn arrived at almost exactly where they started in the market. The Drenched Priest nearby was now having a personal conversation with those who stuck around.

All the ants in the market seemed at ease, until Thit spotted one ant running quickly. He ran right past Thit and Hawn. Thit watched him run toward the pub, where she noticed there was a commotion. A crowd gathered around the entrance. A lot of shouting was coming from inside. More ants began to run toward the pub. Thit tensed up. So did Hawn. Suddenly, one ant burst out of the entrance and limply fell onto the pavement outside. Two more ants walked out. One had a knife. Then the fighting began.

Capter Four: The News

Kourey’s legs were sore from mouse riding for four days straight with minimal rest. His upper back was sore as well, ever since he had that strange dream. He leaned back in his saddle, and loosely held on to the reigns with one arm. Two other arms lazily swung along with the rhythm of his sizeable grey mouse’s trot. His fourth arm was where it usually was for the past several days; playing with the vile, now attached to a belt around his bronze armor. Ahead, down the wooded Hornblende Road, he could just barely see the City on the Bridge in the distance. He hadn’t been to Feldspar in some years, ever since Gorz’s age caught up to him and he could no longer ride. Kourey had never felt so nervous to be back.

Kourey rode alongside the three Royal Councilants, who sat in a comfortable, cushiony, open wagon, which was towed by four mice from the Royal Stables. Gorz leaned back in his seat, staring ahead at the city. He seemed anxious to get there. Strom looked more relaxed, seated next to Gorz. He held a wooden cup in his hand and a nearly full nectarwine skin rested on the cushion next to him. Zidney was asleep in the front end of the wagon, taking up an entire cushioned bench to himself.

The entire royal caravan consisted of several carriages of gifts, such as wine, food, jewels, fine clothing, and six of the best royal white mice from the stable. Three hundred Royal Soldiers guarded the caravan. Most formed a column leading the way to Feldspar. The rest brought up the rear, enclosing the caravan within a line of spears and armor. Almost fifty thousand soldiers from Galena were a day behind the caravan. They acted as insurance should anything go awry.

 Kourey bobbed his head, struggling to stay awake. He didn’t sleep well the night before. He had another strange dream that he had been flying, only this time it was over the Hornblende Cliffs. The sky was falling, the world was ending, and the capital city was on fire. He heard strange whisperings of a phrase he couldn’t get out of his head. Don’t kill the Queen. He woke up out of breath again earlier that morning.

He had spent most of the ride that day wondering what his dreams meant. Why would he kill the Queen? And which Queen was the stranger talking about? The Queen of Queens? She was back in Hornblende. The Queen of Feldspar, perhaps? But what might she do to make Kourey want to kill her? Was the Queen of Halite possibly still alive, and was she coming to Feldspar for the ‘negotiation?’

Kourey’s head spun all morning. He knew he had to be more alert once the caravan entered the city, though. He tried to take his mind off things by making conversation with the councilants. “When is the Sodden Pontiff expected to arrive in Feldspar?” he asked nobody in particular.

“Quicker than we expected,” said Gorz. “ They'll be here before sunset. We hoped to arrive at least a day before the Sodden Pontiff, so that we could prepare Feldspar for any…issues that may arise.”

Strom’s antennae perked up as he chimed in. “Issues such as reports that he’s bringing an army of half a million soldiers with him,” he said angrily.  “And they’re somehow moving much faster than we anticipated. We’ve given him too much leeway. He might try and use this ‘negotiation’ as an opportunity to besiege the city.” Strom filled his wooden cup with more nectarwine.

“But the ‘negotiation’ will not, under any circumstances go his way,” said Zidney. He was still lying down in the wagon. “Might even be a good thing his army is with him,” he said as he began to sit up. “They’re armed, armored, and ready to move. We could take them straight up the river toward the frontier instead of having to bring them all the way from Halite.” Zidney adjusted his worn-out cloak as he sat up straight. “It would save time and energy, and give us more time to prepare for the Mud King’s attack.”

“It depends on how eager they are to cooperate,” said Gorz.

“Remember how easily manipulated these Halitions can be, Gorz,” said Strom. “It shouldn’t be hard to convince them to fight for us.”

“But we must still proceed with caution,” Gorz responded. “It’s true they can be convinced easily, but these soldiers are still dangerous. When the Sodden Pontiff dies, the army will be confused and angry. We cannot afford to mishandle a situation as delicate as this, especially when the army is at the doorstep to the inland.”

“Your Royal Councilants!” shouted an unfamiliar voice. Kourey’s antennae perked up, and his hand instinctively moved from the vile and firmly gripped the handle of his sword. He looked behind him and saw a courier riding a small, swift, brown mouse. It quickly ran down the road, weaving in and out of the caravan as fast as it could. Kourey eased his hand off his sword when he noticed black and gold on the mouse. The courier approached the Royal Councilants’ wagon. He was younger than Kourey, and smaller. His face looked distressed, but it could have also been exhaustion. He wore a light, black tunic with gold trim, and carried one small sword around his waist. He held a rolled up letter and extended it to the councilants.

Gorz took the letter and examined the seal. “It’s from Hornblende,” he said. “When did you leave the capital?” he asked the courier.

“Two days ago,” said the young ant, out of breath. “I rode all day and all night.”

Gorz inquisitively raised one antenna. He cautiously broke the seal and read the letter. As he read, his eyes widened, and at the same time his antennae sagged. He hung his head low as he handed the letter to Strom. Strom read the letter, and reacted similarly to Gorz. Strom took a big gulp of nectarwine as he passed the Letter to Zidney.

“What is it?” asked Kourey with confusion and concern. “What does the letter say?”

Gorz looked at Kourey straight in the eyes. “The Queen of Queens is dead.”  

Chapter Three: The Dream

Gorz slammed down his fifth cup of grasska. He could drink a lot, almost as much as Strom. Kourey sat across from Gorz, in a dim corner at the Inn on the Edge, Gorz’s favorite pub. It was a worker’s pub, where merchants, builders, traders, and miners went to relax after a day’s service to the Empire. Gorz enjoyed the noise and the grit of the common ant. The pub was located on the lowest level of the vertical city of Hornblende. The city spilled out of the cave in the cliff like a frozen waterfall made out of wood and stone, which pooled into the immense Grand Market on the lowest level. The Grand Market was still a ways up from the ground, though. It was a twenty-minute hike up the winding roads to get to the market, or a much faster and less exhausting five minute ride up one of the lifts.

The Inn on the Edge jutted out of the city, just above the Grand Market. It provided a spectacular view of the forest, though it was off-putting to Kourey, knowing that the only thing separating him from the ground below was an old creaky wooden floor. The Inn and the Market were also the only two structures in the city that were within catapult range. The Grand Market was reinforced with black granite stones, but the inn was built some years ago on a low budget by a non-royal landowner who couldn’t afford any materials besides wood. It shouldn’t have mattered to Kourey, though, since the city hadn’t been under siege in almost fifty years, but the knowledge that the Inn could be so easily destroyed made him uncomfortable. 

Kourey nervously fiddled with a small vile under his tunic, and humbly sipped his second cup of grasska. He didn’t care for the drink. It was bitter and it burned, but a Royal’s drink such as nectarwine couldn’t be found in the lower levels of the city.  He watched as Gorz slowly turned in his seat to get the attention of the bartender. He raised one of his arms and signaled for two more drinks.

“You had better hurry up with that one, Kourey,” said Gorz, turning back around. “You’ve got nerves, I can tell, but you’ll need your sleep for tomorrow, when we begin the journey to Feldspar. Besides, you’ve got four days on the road to be nervous.”

Kourey stopped playing with the vile and tried to calm down, but he couldn’t. “What if something goes wrong? What if this poison doesn’t work?” He went back to fiddling with the vile.

“Hush,” said Gorz, leaning forward. “Remember where you are. Be careful which words you choose. There are only five ants that know about the plan. Stom and Zidney’s guards don’t know about it, not even the Her Elegance’s guards know. But you shouldn’t worry so much, it-” Gorz stopped speaking and leaned back as the bartender brought two more glasses of grasska to the table. Kourey closed his eyes to down his last bit of grasska and handed the empty cup to the bartender. Gorz continued when the bartender left, “It isn’t a difficult task. Just empty the vile into his cup. It’s tasteless and colorless. He won’t notice a thing.”

            “And what if he suspects something?” asked Kourey.

            “He’ll undoubtedly suspect something,” said Gorz, casually. “The offer we gave him was of course too good to be true. But he won’t expect anything from us personally. I don’t think he believes the Queen of Queens would attempt such a risky move.”

            “So, our plan is to create distrust amongst the Sodden Pontiff’s closest followers, and so with no organization, The Order will crumble, right?” asked Kourey.

            “Exactly,” said Gorz. He swallowed a big gulp of grasska and wiped his mouth with his upper left arm.

            “And what if the plan doesn’t work? What if it is us they suspect?” asked Kourey.

            Gorz smiled at Kourey. “You’re like your father, you know? You try to calculate every single possible outcome before you make a move.”

            Kourey frowned. “I feel like knowing the many outcomes of this particular plan is a reasonable concern.”

            “Indeed it is,” Gorz chuckled. “If they for some reason suspect it was us who killed the Sodden Pontiff, it is but a simple matter of asking the coastals if they would rather be ruled by us, or the Mud King,” said Gorz calmly.

            “And if the Mud King reaches the coastals before us, and stikes a deal? They can be easily manipulated. What if the Mud King lies to them just like the Sodden Pontiff did?” asked Kourey.

            “Impossible,” said Gorz. “If there was the slightest movement from the Mangrove Swamp, we would know. Nearly all of Muscovite’s forces are either blockading the fork, or guarding the frontier in the forest, not to mention a handful of spies inside the Mud King’s city posing as traders from the Distant Lands.”

            Kourey sighed. Gorz seemed to always have everything figured out. He always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone he met. Annoyed, but a little more calm, Kourey closed his eyes again and downed a big gulp of grasska. He swallowed, and for a moment he thought the drink was going to come right back up, but he held it down, and then his mind began to wander.

            “Good job, young ant!” said Gorz. “That was a big one.”

            “Gorz,” said Kourey after a pause. “What ever happened to my father? Why did he disappear?”

            Gorz took a deep, solemn breath. “That is a question best left unanswered.”

            “But why?” asked Kourey, unsatisfied. “You were good friends with him, weren’t you? Don’t you know what happened to him?”

            “He was half my age when he disappeared, but yes, we were close back when I lived in Feldspar,” said Gorz. “He was a good ant, a fine trader. Always did his duty to the Queen of Queens.”

            “So then why’d he disappear, Gorz?” asked Kourey, drunkenly distressed. “If he was such a good ant, why did he leave? Was he taken?” Kourey had a very vague memory of his father. He must’ve been only three years out of larva when his father disappeared, but he could never forget the last time he saw him. I love you, child, and so does she, though she’ll never tell you. Those were his last words before he left. Shortly after, Gorz showed up and carried away the young crying Kourey.

            “Those are tough questions to answer right now, Kourey. It’s best they go unanswered for now. Perhaps one day, maybe in more stable times, you’ll learn,” said Gorz. “Now, I think it’s time we get some rest.” Kourey and Gorz exited the Inn on the Edge and took a mouse carriage up the narrow winding roads of Hornblende.

            The Royal Councilant of Feldspar and his Royal Guard parted ways at the entrance to the Gold Palace. Gorz went inside the Palace to his private quarters. Kourey walked down a block from the Palace to his quarters near the Royal barracks. He walked through the Old Market, and stopped to buy a light snack before he got home.

            Kourey loved the noise, smells, and energy of the always-busy Old Market. It was smaller and less industrial than the Grand Market. Merchants sold small goods at the Old Market, like trinkets, and toys, clothing, even armor, and of course, food. He found a food stand that he liked, and grabbed a salted half-minnow on a stick. He turned around quickly to head home, but ran straight into another ant and knocked him over, causing a box he’d been carrying to fall and shatter into a stinky pile of powders and perfume oils. The ant slowly began to pick himself back up. A red and green cloth covered the ant’s face, and he wore strange red and green robes. Kourey coughed at the overwhelming scent of perfume and began to apologize as he knelt down to try and help the ant pick up what remained of his goods. “I’m so very sorry, about that, let me-“

            Just then, the ant grabbed a hold of one of Kourey’s wrists and leaned in close so that only Kourey could hear him speak. “Don’t kill the queen,” muttered the Stranger. The ant had a strong Muscovite accent, like Zidney’s.

            “Hey! A worker does not grasp a Royal Guard!” shouted Kourey, and he yanked his arm away. The strange ant from Muscovite let him go with no resistance. He stood up and walked away briskly without even picking up his shattered mess on the ground. Kourey watched the ant leave, confused about what had just happened. He shrugged, and continued home.

            Later that night, Kourey lied in bed on the verge of sleep. He thought about his father, and who she might have been. Kourey assumed his father was talking about his mother, but he had never met her. Gorz said she died giving birth, but Kourey always doubted that. He never knew how much he could trust Gorz when it came to talking about his parents. Gorz was oddly secretive about the past.

Kourey finally slipped into a slumber. He dreamed a strange dream in which he was flying over the ocean with the ghost of his father. Everywhere he looked he saw nothing but water. Suddenly, he began to fall. His father’s pale ghost hovered in the sky, watching Kourey plummet downward toward the water. Kourey tried to reach out for his father to save him, but he did nothing. Right before he crashed into the sea, however, Kourey was caught by the stranger from the Old Market. His red and green robes had turned completely red. There was an intense and terrifying anger behind the cloth that concealed his face. Everything turned pitch black. Then, Kourey heard the stranger scream. DON’T KILL THE QUEEN!

            Kourey jolted awake. He was out of breath, and his back was sore.  

Chapter Two: The March

How stupid did the Queen of Queens think the Sodden Pontiff was? Her offer was too good to be true. It had to be a ploy to discredit, or even assassinate him. The Royal Council with all their wisdom was even allowing the Savior to bring his army with him, the fools.

Thit marched in anger with her column of half a thousand ants. She held her longpike proudly, the polished, armor-piercing head glimmered in the morning sun along with the other hundreds of longpikes. Her column looked like a shiny forest of death. Thit was dressed in brand new bronze armor, trimmed with pure white, and wore a matching helm, which covered her head and cheeks, but had two holes on top that allowed her antennae to pop through. On her back, she carried her heavy round shield, which had recently had the white tower of Halite painted on it.

  She turned around to get one last look at the White City. The rising sun gave half the city a heavenly white-yellow glow, while the other half was still hidden in the dark blue of dawn. Thit had lived in Halite all her life, and she knew that she might not see it ever again. She would gladly give her life for her city, if that was what it took.

Behind her were dozens of columns just like her own, and those were only the ones in her field of vision. Thit was one of a hundred thousand pike soldiers, which made up the core of the Sodden Pontiff’s army. Fifty thousand cavalry mice supported the core, along with almost eighty thousand archers and various other missile soldiers. There were ten thousand siege engineers following up the rear who would construct catapults, towers, and ladders. Twenty five thousand specialized climbing soldiers also accompanied the army, who were prepared to make a dangerous free climb up the tall cliff if the army had to besiege Hornblende. The war would be over far before they reached Hornblende, though, if the inland ants knew what was good for them. Two hundred sixty-five thousand soldiers marched northeast with the Sodden Pontiff toward Feldspar. Another thirty-five thousand soldiers traveling upriver by warship from The Island of Basalt were going to meet them under the City on the Bridge, bringing the army’s total up to three hundred thousand.

The Sodden Pontiff’s plan was simple. He would walk straight into the Royal Councilants’ ploy in Feldspar, and turn their ‘negotiation’ around on them. He would show them his army, and should they make even a hint of aggression toward him, the army would immediately besiege Feldsapar. The coastal army was much larger and better equipped than the skeleton of the inland army. The Queen of Queens would have no choice but to surrender her empire to The Savior, but if she was foolish, the army was fully prepared to kill the Royal Councilants and cleanse the entire inland of non-believers all the way to the capital city on the cliff.

This attempt at a negotiation, or perhaps an assassination, had to have been an act of desperation by the Queen of Queens, the slow and overly cautious crusty old ant. She was afraid. She was afraid of Halite’s power, and she was afraid of The Order, even though the Sodden Pontiff was the one who saved her and her precious Empire. It was Halite’s blessed filtered water that kept the Empire breathing during the Great Drought, but the inland river cities never learned to respect it. They were too stuck in their old ways of the Old Queens, too dependent on the Feldspar River. The river used to be the lifeblood of the Empire, but now the river was sick, and the Empire was weak. It was time to convert the inland non-believers, and to liberate them from suffering, and from the tyranny of the Old Empire.