The Nest's Veins
The ant tunnels were dark and damp. A descent this deep underground ought to have left them gasping, yet the air never thickened.
Tiny vents pocked the walls here and there, and the passage itself was remarkably wide—but there was nothing pleasant about feeding one careful foot after another into a sloping shaft a good three meters across.
The mercenaries stared into that black hole as if it were a bottomless pit. Unbidden, the image rose in them: something lunging from the dark, seizing an ankle, dragging them down into the deep.
Messi thought of videos he'd seen on the internet of the Mariana Trench—divers going in, divers coming back out. This was the same, only without the water. At least they weren't submerged. They could trust the light of their torches.
After about twenty minutes of painfully slow, careful descent, the sloping path came to an end. When a foot plunged into empty darkness, the mercenary at the head of Squad 1 jerked in alarm. The tension leapt to everyone behind him.
"What the—?"
The mercenary swept his foot through the dark, then reported at once to Ramang.
"The path's gone, sir. It just... drops off."
"It hasn't ended. Most likely..."
Ramang took a torch from an attendant and tossed it down. It hit with a dull thud and lit the space below. A tunnel.
"That down there looks like a proper vein of the nest. We came down a shaft that feeds into it. You—mercenary. Stay here, tell the Squad 2 leader, and come down with them."
Once they knew what they were dealing with, there was nothing left to fear. Ramang threw himself down first and landed on the floor. Messi and the rest of Squad 1 followed.
"What in the..."
Ramang swept the torch around, trying to take the measure of the tunnel. What he found was more unsettling still.
"Commander, this has to be six meters across..."
"And the shaft we just came down was a good three meters in diameter..."
Monsters, surprisingly, were more efficient than people in certain respects. It was the instinct of the wild. When it came to travel routes, they were ruthlessly practical.
A human would hang ornaments, carve murals, raise a ceiling to proclaim his own authority—building corridors that had nothing to do with the size of his body. Sometimes people even poured care into passages they never used.
Monsters had no such vanities. They built passages as comfortable as possible for their own bodies, and they always used them. A tunnel six meters across meant a creature of matching bulk traveled it.
Worse still were the countless marks punched into every surface of the tunnel. They looked as if they'd been gouged by hooks, covering ceiling, floor, and walls without distinction. Ant footprints.
From a distance, the walls might even have passed for checkered wallpaper, so densely were the prints packed. If that many came at them all at once...?
Just imagining it made it hard to breathe.
For a moment, Ramang even found himself doubting Messi.
What if this outlander is leading us into a deathtrap to wipe us all out?
But this was hardly a place Messi could walk out of alive on his own. If anyone survived, it would more likely be the knights, with their superior combat power. And they had brought the villagers along as a leash. Ramang set the worry aside almost as soon as it formed.
Ereb arrived, along with Gaston, Ayla, and Leto from the following squads. They gathered and dressed their ranks. Even after seeing the state of the tunnel, they still seemed to trust Messi.
"Never thought I'd walk into an ant nest alive. Well? Still going according to your plan?"
"So far, yes."
Leto eased at Messi's answer.
Messi looked around, then walked over to Ereb.
"We should rest and regroup before we move on."
"Here?"
"That rain isn't going to let up anytime soon. While it's coming down, they won't have any reason to use this tunnel. We'd be better off getting some real rest."
Ordinarily, resting in a tunnel the ants used to reach their hunting grounds would have been a terrible idea. Not now. The weather was on their side.
The downpour on the way here had been a curse. Once they were inside the nest, it had become a blessing.
Rainwater kept threading in through the shaft they had come down, a soft, unending trickle. Catch it, let the silt settle, and they could even use it as drinking water.
"Wouldn't we be better off pushing through while they're sitting still?"
"I wouldn't. If we pass this up... we won't get another chance to rest until we're out of the nest. They keep a reserve and run a strict half-and-half rotation. They won't take turns giving us a break."
"...Fine. Everyone rest and get a meal ready. Squad 1 takes first watch. Boyle, check the wounded. And I'll say it again: no bleeding. If anyone starts, you report it at once."
At Ereb's order, the knights and attendants moved in a brief, orderly bustle. The mercenaries, watching them, went looking for places to rest. Some were so wrung out by the tension that they skipped the meal entirely, lay back on the floor, and were snoring within moments.
When things had quieted a little, Ereb spoke.
"Messi. What's the plan from here? You going to answer me every time I ask?"
"You seem anxious."
"...Of course I am. This is a gamble with my life and my honor on the table. I put the whole stake on you, so you'd better deliver something that matches. If you don't..."
"Don't worry, Young Master. I told you I'd get you there safely."
"Heh. You damn outlander. All mouth... Your face is still wearing the shock, but that tongue of yours is sweet as candy."
"I've never come in this way either, so... it can't be helped."
"Never this way...? So you've been in an ant nest before? This is your second time?"
Ereb hadn't seen that coming. Who would have imagined the man had been inside an ant nest before?
This guy really does live outside common sense. That's what makes him useful, though...
Of course, Messi hadn't been alone then. His master had been with him. There had been nothing to fear.
"There was someone who took me through an ant nest."
"That fellow wasn't right in the head either."
Messi's expression soured at once. He could take insults aimed at himself, but hearing his master slandered sat very badly with him. Ereb must have felt it, because he cleared his throat and moved on.
"So that fellow... I mean, that person. Where did you two come in?"
"Through the Forest of Resentment. It was a passage connected to the ants' Central Plaza... From there, I'll be able to guide us with certainty."
"The ants have a plaza too? These things really do have everything."
"They're extremely efficient, but in some ways they're the creatures that most resemble humans. Like the central square in a human city... it's the hub that connects to every chamber in the nest. From there... we'll head for the nest's princess."
"A princess? What for? Planning to take her hostage, are you? Hah!"
Ereb laughed as if he'd tossed off a clever joke. Messi's face went serious.
Because that was exactly the answer.
"...Have you lost your mind? You think that'll even work?"
"As I said, they resemble humans more than anything else. What could matter more than the queen's heir? If we fail to take the princess hostage... the plan fails."
"And if it fails?"
"Then we die."
"...!"
Ereb buried his face in both hands and let out a long breath. The game had already begun, and the cards had been dealt.
He hoped the hand he'd been given was the best one at the table. But sitting there praying for God to deal him something better was not in his nature.
All that remained was to play the psychological game—to use a hand he didn't even fully understand as effectively, and as safely, as he could.
The knights ringed the Young Master, resting with the help of their attendants. Some even caught rainwater to wash, if only to feel clean for a moment.
Ereb, looking sleepy, finished a simple meal of fine jerky and closed his eyes. The knights around him said nothing, unwilling to disturb their lord's rest. A formidable loyalty.
Then his eyes snapped open. He quietly summoned Laud from Squad 3. Laud Eriksen, fourth son of House Eriksen, loyal to Ereb alone. A different sort of man from Ramang.
"...Watch Ramang."
"The commander... sir?"
"Keep your voice down. Why do you think I split us into squads and put Ramang so far from me? Because I have reason to doubt him."
"...Your orders, Young Master."
"If Ramang is plotting something, he'll have allies to help him do it. Human nature is a curious thing—the more dangerous the scheme you share, the less you can stand being kept apart. A straightforward man like Ramang would feel it even more. Squads 1 and 2, the ones he leads... watch the people in them too. If anything feels off, you report it at once."
It was a night for plots.
The mercenaries were no less busy. In the hush of the tunnel, every man was murmuring seriously with the one beside him. Words like escape and survival came up often.
Ayla went from group to group, trying to soothe the frightened mercenaries, but it was no easy task.
Amon came looking for Durek as well.
"Brother Durek, isn't this getting dangerous? What are we supposed to do?"
"What do you think? We watch for a chance and we run. We won't get to slip away quiet, so we shake the knights up as much as we can."
"How? And Brother Den's in that state..."
At the end of Amon's gaze, Den lay sprawled on the ground. That he'd dragged that ruined body this far down was a miracle. Exhausted, he had collapsed and been unconscious for some time.
"Him ending up like that? That's actually perfect."
"...What?"
"He's a walking billboard now. Every time the mercenaries look at him, they'll distrust the nobles and the knights—and they'll be afraid. Amon, you take care of Den from here on. We're in the same squad anyway, so you can manage that, right?"
"...Me? The squad's already full of complaints. On the way down just now, the knight in charge even told him, 'I'll kill you clean, so why don't you just die?' I don't know if I can look after Brother Den..."
"You idiot. Didn't you hear? They can't kill anyone down here. They'd have to see blood."
"He sounded like he meant it, though. If Den gets in the way, they'll just choke him to death."
"Heh. You think Den would just lie there and take it? That bastard would chew his own tongue and bleed before he died alone. Tell him: they're terrified of bleeding, so if they threaten his life, he threatens them right back with it."
"...Got it."
"You keep him with you and bring as many over to our side as you can. Sit Den next to them while you talk and they'll scare themselves. Just float the question: 'They did that to Den. You think they'll let us live when this is over?' They won't sleep a wink. Heh."
"That's our brother."
"And most of our boys ended up in the rear squads, yeah?"
"Yes. We did it like you said, before we came in."
"Good. Put the ones with a sense of direction on it. Keep marking the walls, and memorize the way back."
Durek had been watching for a chance to escape all along. The reason he kept putting it off was the Ahental Knights, armed with an iron discipline. They didn't show so much as a crack in their watch; he hadn't even managed to run during a loud drinking feast.
Durek could not understand why men that strong lived the way they did. Was it happiness, jumping at a single noble's word? By his measure, it absolutely was not.
And so he had made up his mind: he would get out of this alive.
I'll build the Durek Mercenary Corps into something big, and I'll live large!
In the dark of the tunnel, his eyes burned with ambition. If the mercenaries here followed him, it wasn't an impossible dream.
Durek sipped the liquor he'd packed in his waterskin instead of water, and let the pleasant fantasies run.
Where would he set up the company headquarters? How high should he set the base commission? Could he create a request service just for VIPs? He even had a plan to personally inspect the faces of the women he'd station at the front desk.
It was the sort of thing a man does when a pretty woman walks by—leaping from the sight of her all the way to the honeymoon, the names of their children, and a grandchild's talent show.
Of course, anyone could nurse an ambition like that. Escape plans and happy daydreams were a man's own business.
But only until Squad 9—his squad—took their turn on watch.
He should have paid a little more attention to the fact that this was an ant nest sitting directly beneath the Forest of Resentment.
A rumble rolled through the dark.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud...
"S-something's coming!"
"Wake them! Wake everyone!!"