The sudden rush of genuine laughter from the King had successfully detonated the tension. Lord Velas had fled the council room, leaving behind an ecstatic, bewildered silence. Ian, sensing the opportunity, quickly ushered the four remaining Pillars out of the counsel chamber and into the palace's grand dining hall.
"Please, gentlemen, Lady Sira," Ian's voice was smooth and professional. "His Majesty requests you join him for a moment of respite and shared hospitality. The Arcanis Patriarch will return shortly."
Antares, now moving with renewed energy, led the way. He walked with a light step, the oppressive weight of the throne and the Ancestral Hall lifted from his shoulders. As they reached the dining hall—a space less severe than the carved council chamber, lined instead with warm tapestries and illuminated by large, glowing crystal clusters,Antares turned to his steadfast guards.
"Eli, Levi," Antares instructed, gesturing toward the long, prepared table. "You both must eat, knowing you i doubt you ate anything since our expedition in the tower. Sit down and join us. This is a meal of unity, and you are part of the King's retinue."
Eli, the larger of the two, placed a fist against his chest,the Antman salute. "With due respect, Your Majesty," his voice was a low rumble. "The duty of the King's Shield is constant. Our bodies can manage without respite. We do not leave your side."Levi, equally massive, simply gave a silent, unwavering nod of confirmation.
Antares sighed, a gesture of exasperated hopelessness that was entirely genuine. He knew the loyalty of these Antmen was absolute, forged in the ancient customs of the tribe. He could not change the custom of two millennia in one sitting.
"Very well," Antares conceded, forcing a slight smile. "Stand sentinel, then. But do not let your stomach rumbling interrupt the state meeting."
The joke, though gentle, eased the stiffness among the council members. Antares took his place at the head of the expansive table. Yajin and Kael sat across from each other, while Lady Sira took the position of honor to Antares's right, with Yanrid positioned discreetly further down. The empty seat next to Antares remained for Lord Velas.
The palace servants always swift, specialized Antwomen adorned with white silks—began serving the meal. The spread was simple, reflecting the necessity of wartime rations, yet it was prepared with exquisite care.
Dishes were presented:
Celcane Sticks: White, purple-flecked tubers sliced into neat sticks, reminiscent of carrot sticks from Antares's previous world, crunchy and slightly sweet.
Roast Meat: Strips of smoked and roasted surface beast, lean and heavily spiced with herbs and spices got from trade with the bloodbeard pirates.
Dried Fruits: Highly concentrated, energy-rich berries harvested from the deep fungal caverns.
Midnight Flower Juice: The King's favorite, the deep purple, slightly intoxicating, sweet drink that was also their primary trade good.
White fried mushroom: A dish Antares hadn't seen before: large, fluffy white mushrooms, boiled soft and then lightly fried in mineral oil, giving them a rich, savory crust.
"Ian," Antares inquired, gesturing toward the fungi. "These white mushrooms. Are these also cultivated by the Antmen?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Ian replied smoothly, standing near the King's chair, ready to assist. "They are a staple .Highly popular for their taste and the fact that they can grow anywhere with limited water supply."
Antares nodded, making a mental note of their complex agriculture. He picked up his utensils which were bone cutlery intricately carved with the Ant King's sigil. Before he could raise the food to his mouth, he paused, noticing the entire table was waiting.
Yajin, Kael, Sira, and Yanrid all sat with hands folded or resting on the table, their eyes respectfully lowered. It was custom: no one ate before the King signaled permission.
A warm wave washed over Antares. This wasn't subservience; it was an act of communal respect and reverence for the central figure of the tribe.
Antares finally gestured with his hand, a welcoming motion. "Please, my friends. Eat. Let us discuss the future while we replenish the strength."
The conversation began tentatively, fueled by the excellent food. Kael and Yajin immediately plunged back into the logistics of the scouting mission.
"We should instruct the communicators to prioritize the Jubba River mouth," Kael insisted, his voice slightly muffled by a mouthful of roasted meat. "If they were trying to bypass the Stagfall, they would need that water source before the climb."
"Agreed, Lord Kael," Yajin rumbled. "Yanrid will ensure the scouting pack knows the terrain near the Rock Caves well. My son's knowledge of that region is unmatched."
Antares ate deliberately, enjoying the robust flavors, but his eyes kept returning to Yanrid. The young man ate gracefully and efficiently, listening intently to the conversation but offering no input unless asked. Yanrid has a destiny higher than being a mere scout commander, Antares determined. His tactical genius must not be wasted on his father's old squabbles.
Then, a sudden, cold calculation seized Antares's mind, overriding the cordial atmosphere.He had sent Lord Velas to gather 30 Antmen. He performed the calculation again in his head: 30 \times 300 E.P. per awakening equals \mathbf{9,000} E.P. He had only \mathbf{7,000} E.P. remaining.
I was overly ambitious. I cannot risk failing this display of power, Antares thought, a knot forming in his stomach. I must reduce the number without causing suspicion or breaking the political momentum.
He needed a way to contact Velas, who was likely deep within the settlement.
Without a word, Antares closed his eyes, concentrating. A low, powerful hum, barely audible, filled the dining hall. The Lords watched in awe as two crimson-red, segmented antenna slowly emerged and extended from Antares's forehead, glowing with an intense, internal light. The transformation was startling and immediate—the hallmark of an extremely powerful Communicator Antman.
The communicators were the rarest and most valuable assets of the tribe, their antennae being biological amplifiers for telepathic communication. The King possessing this legendary, high-level trait was nearly unheard of.
Antares used the ambient mana and the natural resonance of the Antmen's neural networks as a biological communications grid. To his perception, every Antman in the colony was a recognizable frequency, an identifier. He used the mass of the population as a giant, living antenna array to pinpoint his target.
He found Lord Velas immediately, who was deep in the Arcanis Clan quarter, commanding and organizing the youths he had gathered to follow him back to the palace.
[Velas!] The mental command crashed into the Patriarch's mind like a collapsing cave wall.
Velas nearly dropped the young Antman he was leading. He looked wildly around, knowing there were no Communicator Antmen near him, recognizing the sheer, overwhelming power of the telepathic voice.
[Your Majesty!] Velas managed to reply mentally, his mind racing with fear and reverence.
[Reduce the delegation immediately. Bring only twenty individuals. No more, no less. Hurry, Patriarch. The council is waiting.]
Velas was stunned by the direct mental order but did not question it. He instantly realized the King possessed the forbidden communicator gene. [It shall be done immediately, Your Majesty! I am assembling the twenty now and will return right away.]
[Good. Do not miss the fresh mushrooms, old man. They are excellent.] Antares sent the final thought, severing the connection.
Antares retracted his glowing antennae. They receded back into his skull just as swiftly as they had appeared, leaving behind only the astonished silence of the council.
Antares felt a wave of nausea and a splitting headache—the exertion of using such raw, widespread mental power was taxing, even for him. He took a long, deep sip of the Midnight Flower juice, washing away the dizziness.
"My apologies, gentlemen," Antares said calmly, as if he hadn't just displayed a legendary genetic trait. "Just a private matter with Lord Velas. He will be returning shortly with a slightly reduced party."
The meal continued, but the conversation had shifted. Yajin and Kael kept glancing at where the antennae had been, exchanging looks of deep respect and shock. Lady Sira watched Antares with an entirely new intensity. The King was not just a politician; he was a genetic anomaly and a power unto himself.
The meal concluded smoothly, the Lords finishing their dishes just as a commotion was heard at the door.
Ian stepped forward. "Your Majesty, Lord Velas has returned with the Arcanis party."
Antares stood from his chair, a cold, focused energy returning to his eyes. He surveyed the three council members who would witness the rebirth of the Arcanis Clan.
Let the show begin, he thought, a confident, predatory smile just touching the corner of his lips.