Arcadia (7): The Killer Queen Cowers
Perched obediently on King Makairodus's hand was Killer Queen. Gone was any trace of the monster's instinct to attack humans on sight—she sat there as tamely as a pet. It was just like something out of a nature documentary. I never imagined I'd see it up close like this.... And without her wings, there was no annoying buzzing to set my nerves on edge, which made her seem far less threatening.
Of course, the other Killer Hornets were still around.... But for some reason, they hadn't budged an inch from the house right now. Fine by me. Better than having to torch them all because of that incessant droning.
"That aside, she seems even more docile than usual today."
I wasn't sure about "docile," exactly.
"She really doesn't attack people."
"Of course not. And she's clever, too—so clever she treats anyone who comes with me like a friend and won't strike first unless provoked."
"If they hadn't come with you...."
King Makairodus gave an awkward chuckle and pointed to the Killer Hornets lounging at the house entrance.
Yeah, obviously. From the looks of it, she was this tame purely because of her bond with him. If some other human showed up.... They'd end up a pincushion of venomous stingers.
"Though I haven't heard a peep about any other intruders, come to think of it."
Well, yeah. Whether the swarm went berserk or corpses piled up, it'd be pretty damn noticeable.
"Anyway, she's so well-behaved today.... Maybe you could try holding her? What do you say?"
He said it with a mischievous grin.
Uh, well....
"You're telling me to put this bee on my hand right now?"
This exoskeleton-clad death machine? With its venomous stinger and razor-sharp forelegs?
"No thanks. Even if she's tame, it's still a monster."
"But she's different today. She's got some charm to her, don't you think?"
"Charm or not, no means no! That rock-hard carapace! Those emotionless compound eyes of a mindless killer! The needle that pierces flesh and pumps in poison! And those scythe-like front claws!"
"Pretty cool, right?"
"Your taste is twisted!"
How could anyone call that cool? How?!
"Come on, just for a second."
He held out Killer Queen toward me, perched on his hand.
"No way! Even if you offered me the whole world, bees are a hard pass! Bees!!"
Mosquitoes I hate because they suck blood and are just annoying, but bees? Pure, unadulterated revulsion! Sorry, bees, but hate is hate! Especially fist-sized giant ones!!
"She's so cute, though...?"
Killer Queen, atop his hand, fixed her emotionless compound eyes on me.
"Kiiiii...."
For some reason, she let out a feeble, frightened whimper and started crawling up his wrist bit by bit.
Uh, well.... I didn't like her, but seeing her react so blatantly scared? That kinda got to me.
"Hmm? What's gotten into her all of a sudden?"
Her gaze was unmistakably locked on me. When I shifted sideways, so did her eyes. When I edged away, she let out a relieved little trill.
Huh....
Um.... Did this thing somehow sense what I am? Animal instinct? Or some special monster sense? I had no idea....
It was bizarre. Maybe it had something to do with being tamed by humans.
"I've heard rumors that the Dragon Priestess is terrifying, but I never imagined she'd scare a monster.... Unthinkable."
"This is a first for me too?!"
I had no clue why this was happening!
Were Killer Hornets that smart? Smart enough to retain primal instincts that picked up on my true nature? No idea what the answer was.... But it sure wasn't normal.
"They say you and the Hero slaughtered hordes of monsters. Maybe she smells the blood and that's setting her off?"
"If I reeked that bad, other monsters would've noticed too. Weird that only Killer Queen here picks up on it, don't you think?"
"She's a genius, that's why! Smart enough to recognize people and befriend them!"
"Genius or not for a monster...."
Smarter monsters sounded more dangerous, but the fact they could interact with humans? Kinda positive, maybe. Hmm.... Would this lead to humanoid monsters eventually? Separate from demons—ogres or orcs or something? Who knows. Vampires seemed likely, though. Kinda iffy as "monsters," but....
Eh, whatever. Humans would sort it out. Sure, I was meddling now, but eventually humans and other races would build the world together. By then, I'd hole up in some forgotten corner, sleep all day, and watch the world through clones!
No more need for direct intervention from the Genesis Dragon or Life Goddess! Probably! Nah, even then they wouldn't need me, right? I'd be tucked away where no one could find me!
The couple cared for the bee with utmost devotion. Having lost her wings and been exiled from her hive, the bee couldn't even trust the very people tending to her.
Yet the couple persisted. Once they'd taken responsibility, they saw it through to the end.
But tending a savage bee was no easy task. Sometimes she'd slash with her claws, other times bite with her jaws. To the bee, humans were villains who smashed hives and stole honey.
Still, the couple never gave up. Despite wounds and threats of stings, they kept nursing the honeybee.
In time, she opened her heart to them.
Once she did, the couple learned a startling truth: this was no ordinary bee, but the queen bee herself!
The most fearsome of forest bees. A single sting could endanger a human life. Feared as the murder bee.
And this was her queen.
Having opened up, the queen recovered with the couple's medicine, then—with their help—built a new hive and grew her family.
One by one, eggs hatched into larvae. As the colony swelled, the couple grew worried. Was it really okay with such dangerous murder bees? Would they harm others?
But those fears proved unfounded. The new bees were remarkably docile compared to their wild kin.
They'd fight back fiercely if provoked, but they never attacked first—mild-mannered by murder bee standards.
In gratitude, the bees gifted the couple the sweetest honey imaginable, far surpassing any wild variety.
With potatoes and honey, the couple crafted delectable treats: butter from borrowed milk, sweet honey, and savory potato dishes. They named it honey butter potato.
The couple struck it rich with their dish. From owning just a dog, they became wealthy.
Some celebrated their success; others envied it. Chief among the jealous was a spiteful "friend" from over the hill.
Hardly a true friend—the wife had pawned her heirloom to build their home. But he was the only one who'd helped her struggling husband back then. Help in need makes a friend, right?
Though the friend had coveted that heirloom fiercely, the husband saw only a good Samaritan.
Anyway, flush with wealth, the husband invited his friend for a lavish meal.
The friend grumbled sourly.
"How'd you make so much money? You had nothing but the clothes on your back."
"Luck. The dog we ended up raising gave us everything."
Nearby, the dog—gnawing a bone scrap—tilted its head. What the hell is this human saying?
The dog had sparked it all, sure. But nursing the bee through injuries, growing potatoes, crafting and selling food—that was the couple's hard work.
Facts lost on the spiteful friend. All he cared about was that pup making them rich.