“Are you certain you're not being ignored?” remarked Painyll from his pile of cushions. “It seems to me the sort of thing my liege Lordavis would do.” He plucked a handful of raisins from a nearby dish and shoved them into his jaws. Many toppled down the front of his highly patterned housecoat, ill fitting and borrowed from Revergnols' collection. Painyll had been making a habit of wearing the previous ruler's attire despite their obvious size differences. As Lordavis never commented, the poet assumed it went unnoticed or, more likely, the magus didn't care. Lordavis didn't hold the predecessor in high regard and was more likely to view the clothes as unwanted leftovers than anything sentimental. Painyll, on the other hand, thought the outfits were rather fetching and better stretched to the seams on his body than left collecting dust in a vestibule.“You remarked yourself the worms had gone. My liege Lordavis commands the worms.”

Nolwud gnawed on dark knuckles, pacing the perimeter of the throne room, dragging a shoulder where there was a wall and stepping away when windows appeared. “I don't think so,” said the inventor. “It's like they were called away.”

“By my liege Lordavis,” replied Painyll, picking at the stray raisins. “You said there was talk of dead worms? Maybe they're sick and being put to pasture.” He sighed wistfully. “One can always hope.”

“No, it wasn't like that.” The Technologist paused, switching knuckles. The grinding sound of the mandible on the joint intensified. “I'd liken it to a wave of cockroaches abandoning a sinking ship.”

“You're worried,” observed the poet. “I didn't think you were that fond of my liege.”

“I don't dislike Lordavis,” said Nolwud defensively. “Do I think Lordavis is a good person? No. Do I think Lordavis makes wise decisions? No. Do I think Lordavis has common decency? No.”

“But you don't dislike my liege Lordavis,” mocked Painyll. “Oh, yes. I see how it is.” He pulled out a sheet of parchment and, rolling onto his stomach, started to scribble. “Those conflicting emotions! I used to feel that way towards Revergnols. Yes, my life was comfortable and well-tended, but on occasion, I wished I could traipse without my jailer's consent. And the manner of work being done! Oh, it was simply awful when you thought about it. This is why I did not think about it, merely reveled in the poetry of pain. Yes, Revergnols could create such beautiful pain, from farmed to farmer. The literature I produced under Nova's lock and key was some of my best.”

Nolwud gave Painyll a pointed look. “I'm not sure what you're talking about. I'm saying that while I acknowledge Lordavis is full of faults, I've sworn my fealty to this kingdom and its ruler. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't see some merit in it. I don't dislike Lordavis.”

“You're soft,” said Painyll. “I bet you'd be hard-pressed to hate anyone. The sort who cannot comprehend true hate.” He snickered. “Also, I can't imagine a worker-vassal like you wants to lose newfound title and prestige.” He leaned his head upon his arm. “How swiftly you can climb the ranks when there isn't another to compete with! I haven't missed that, Technologist Nolwud.”

“It's not only about that,” gnawed Nolwud. “Lordavis is my patron. That's the reason I came back. I need magic to complete my plane shifter. The two of us together should be able to further the advancement of science one-hundred fold.”

“Mmm.” Painyll returned to writing. “A pity, the delay this security system has caused.” Then, “Get me something to drink.”

Nolwud frowned. “I thought we agreed to share equal rank.”

Painyll lifted his head. “You decided it. I'm not getting up. As there are no worms scooting about, one of us must go procure the beverage.” It was a task that fell to Nolwud whenever it was brought up, as did most tasks without the worms.

Nolwud prudently did not draw attention to the guards. There was a chance that, if reminded of them, Painyll would used them to emphasize his authority. Instead, Nolwud sighed, “Fine. Maybe I'll stop by my lab on the way back and see if Lordavis hasn't triggered a sensor.”

There wasn't any indication of activity. The likelihood had been slim. The inventor suspected that Lordavis had vanished into the largely unmonitored portion of land. Nolwud wasn't entirely sure how to secure those areas when the time came. If there were, as the magus claimed, literal rivers of worms, it would be a nightmare configuring a means of preventing shocks to those other than trespassers. Perhaps, as Lordavis had asserted, the worms' presence was more effective than any electrical system. That many worms? Who would tangle with those odds?

Nolwud returned, bottle of wine in hand, and found Painyll absent from his pillows. As abruptly as the inventor's eyes fell on the empty cushions, a pained, “Stay away from me!” echoed from the other side of the throne platform. The Technologist shoved hand into pocket and rounded the elevated obstacle to find Painyll backed into a corner, his guards forming a barrier in front of him, and one familiar and agitated green worm bouncing back and forth just beyond the reach of glaives.

“Rott,” Nolwud said and the worm turned back. Swiftly, he slithered to Nolwud, encircling ankles excitedly.

“What a relief you showed up!” breathed Painyll. “It came right at me. I had no idea what I was going to do! I keep finding them, you know? In my bed, in the bath,...”

Nolwud crouched and Rott lunged, wrapping tightly around before dropping to the floor. The Technologist interpreted it as a grateful hug. “What's going on, Rott?”

The worm didn't indicate any understanding. He continued to dance about and dart urgently.

“I've been enjoying the lack of worms,” continued Painyll, ambling slowly back to his roost. “I've slept better than I have since I arrived back in Nova.”

Rott gripped the cloth at the shin of Nolwud's trousers and tugged towards the windows. The Technologist allowed it, stating, “Come get your wine. I think Rott wants me to go with him.”

“What?” Painyll took stock and bemoaned, “You're going to leave me here?”

“I'll be back,” said Nolwud. “After I see what Rott wants.”

“Everyone leaves me,” lamented Painyll, crawling across the stone to retrieve the bottle. “Why? Why must Painyll be forever abandoned? Why must his heart break at every turn? Why must--” He set the bottle aside, crawling swiftly to his parchment. “There is a fine opening line—Why must the purest hearts break into the finest pieces? Poignant. I thank you, Technologist Nolwud. I can work with this.”

Rott released Nolwud and jumped into the window sill. The inventor approached with wary curiosity. With a single flick of his head in the outwards direction, Rott disappeared over the edge. Nolwud rushed forward and found a gargantuan worm waiting a story down, not unlike the one that had eaten the winged magician whole. Both this new worm and Rott stared up expectantly. Rott gave another nod.

“I'm... going out,” Nolwud announced.

“Yes, do what you must,” dismissed Painyll, distracted by his work. “I'm certain I can manage with what you've given me here. I will show you when I have finished.”

Nolwud hoisted through the window and dropped to join Rott.. Rott spun in a circle and flattened his body into the squishy flesh of the monstrosity. He popped up, looking to Nolwud. The inventor considered, slowly lowered to knees, and gripped tightly onto the skin. Rott slipped away, sliding around the curve of the gigantic skull. Nolwud began to call out and rise but at once the massive beast set into motion. Nolwud held on for dear life.

“Fascinating!” exclaimed the inventor as the mount oscillated away at full speed.

The trip lasted several hours. The scenery changed from formerly inhabited townscape and mountainous forest to festering plateaus. Conspicuously devoid of worms, their presence could be seen throughout. A multitude of holes, piles of blackened soil, an ever-lingering odor, and grooves worn into the rocks spoke to the sheer volume of annelids. Eventually, Nolwud caught sight of a conglomeration of worms, gathered together and undulating. The worms, billions lined upon billions, faced the same eastward direction. Nolwud studied their forms while being ferried past. It was an overwhelming sight. Small worms, smooth worms, spiky worms, worms the size of the one the Technologist rode, worms with orange spots, worms with fuzzy fur, each worm looked to the east with a stoic determination. Why? Nolwud's mind was filled with that question. Why did they stare to the east with such fervor? What did it mean?

When at last the long journey had ended and Nolwud was almost convinced it would continue indefinitely (was death a ride on the back of a worm?), Rott emerged from within the mount's mouth. As the massive worm lowered his head to facilitate dismount, the smaller worm once again spun in circles. The nearby worms turned from their vigilant watch and gazed upon the Technologist with large eyes and blank expressions.

“Ah, uh, hello,” said Nolwud, nervous and unsure. “I'm, uhm, here with Rott.”

Rott, the inventor noted, moved with gestures almost imperceptive. The other worms appeared to listen to the silent conversation. Oh, mused the inventor. He's introducing me. Then, I hope.

To Nolwud's relief, the other worms rushed, offering similar hugs of gratitude. The Technologist let out a sigh. The new collection of worms behaved much like Rott and corralled the inventor along behind a thick wall of their kin, several meters high. Walking along a short distance, the party unexpectedly halted. Rott tapped into the knit of worms. The ropey creatures moved aside, allowing a small opening to act as aperture. Nolwud peered through.

On the other side, in the fading light of the day, a disgusting-looking lake reflected the last of the sun's rays. Notable, however, was a collection of nude individuals with an arsenal of blades. They hacked through the worms that came at them, slicing with ease. Nolwud turned to the worms. “If you attack at once, there's no way you can be stopped.”

The worms stared vacantly.

Nolwud's head tipped back. Naturally, military tactics were not in the forefront of a worm's brain. They behaved according to instinct when not guided otherwise. Would that the worms could understand as they did Lordavis. It wasn't a difficult solution. Nolwud gnawed upon knuckle and ruminated further. Why were the worms here? Why drag the inventor out? Why not beseech--

“Lordavis,” Nolwud realized. The Technologist considered the naked attackers again. It was unlikely the magus had fallen to them. Even unpinched, Nolwud doubted Lordavis couldn't dispatch them with a fire spell. Lordavis's magical bent was destructively efficient and versatile. Nolwud's finger tapped jaw. Pointing softly, the inventor indicated the woods in the background, largely absent since leaving the fallen town, and said, “They must be somewhere back there. That's the only place with cover.”

Again, the worms did not respond.

Exasperated, “Follow me.”

Nolwud crawled along, abandoning the gathering of worms and inching forward, belly dragging on the ground. Three worms, Rott noticeably not among them, crept behind, mimicking behavior. Rounding the crest of the lake's banks, Nolwud heard one stranger remark to the other, “Do you think we'll ever get all of them?”

“I don't know. They keep coming.”

“There's got to be a limit though, right?”

“How should I know?” Then, “Just keep chopping until the next watch comes.”

The number of forms increased as Nolwud and the worms moved into the treeline. The inventor pulled spheres from pocket and counted the small orbs. “I have six,” stated the inventor. “We have to be careful and use them sparingly.”

The worms wriggled forward, unaffected by the statement.

Nolwud posted behind a tree and watched. Following their patrols (lax, the inventor noted, probably because they expected worms and no one else), the Technologist came to a burrow in the ground with a wide opening, wide enough for several bipeds of average height to pass through easily. There was no question this was the stronghold. But what to do next?

The worms didn't understand. They couldn't be asked to dig in. Optimistically, Nolwud tried to point, to indicate to the gathered worms the importance of the burrow. They waited attentively and did nothing. Nolwud sighed. Without their cooperation, the only thing the inventor had were the spheres. Without knowing how many awaited within, nor how deep it went, it seemed foolhardy to rely on the limited technology. Unless there was another way...

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” grumbled the Technologist, pulling clothes over head. Trousers were shed and spectacles set daintily on top of the neatly folded garments. The worms gazed on with confusion. Grabbing handfuls of dirt and surrounding debris, Nolwud scrubbed until the soil buried any notable features in a vague layer of grime. Four spheres were palmed as the Technologist let out one last sigh. Stepping forward, Nolwud ambled towards the burrow entrance with forced confidence.

A party of two sat beside the opening. They inspected with heavy scrutiny. Nolwud feared the plan had imploded before it had even gotten off the ground. To die while completely naked! That would be the way of things, wouldn't it? Perhaps it wasn't too late to abandon the whole thing.

“Wow,” said one. “You must really hate the worms.”

“You're covered in their scent,” said the other. “I can't smell anything else. You must have gotten deep into the thick of it.”

“Ha ha!” laughed the inventor. “You know it! Stab, stab, stab! Kill all the worms! That's me!”

“That's a great scar you got,” the second remarked, admiring the Technologist's back. “I hope you wear it with pride!”

“Oh, naturally,” beamed Nolwud, smile faltering.

Pleasantries exchanged, Nolwud moved deeper, escaping further scrutiny with the same fortune. As with the worms outside, the number of undressed underlings inside the burrow was staggering. New tunnels were being constructed, diggers working hard to accommodate. Nolwud moved quickly to prevent appearing untasked and out of place. As the inventor passed by, one voice nearby asked, “So, what do you think about that prophecy? You think there's any truth to it?”

Nolwud turned, mistaking the addressee. A different individual barked a quick, “Whether or not it's true, Queen Chidsey will be angry if you let the magus die.”

“What if she didn't know it was me?”

“She'll know when the world ends.”

“But that's the thing,” said the first. “What if the world doesn't end? What if it's nonsense? What if we're going through the motions for no reason?” Leaning against the tunnel wall to inspect a sword, the individual continued. “Think about it. It's a brilliant move. You're the lone ruler of a decent chunk of land. How do you keep the assassins off you? Boom. You get everyone on board with the notion that your death is their death.”

“I heard the prophecy existed before Lordavis became ruler,” a new lackey said, stepping into the conversation. Having stopped already to listen, Nolwud drifted into the conversation, as it appeared the natural response. “The old ruler started it.”

“But does that make it true?”

“I've heard the scratching,” a fourth from behind Nolwud said, maneuvering around the inventor without taking note of the stranger. The others regarded the comment with varying levels of disbelief.

“You did not!”

“When?”

“I swear, I did,” said the fourth. “It was my turn to look after the magus and I was curious, you know?”

“I didn't hear anything,” the third insisted. “I listened too.”

“I can't believe you're listening for scratching,” scoffed the first. “You're superstitious fools, that's what you are.”

“Queen Chidsey believes it,” said the fourth.

“Queen Chidsey doesn't want to take any chances,” asserted the second. “That doesn't mean she believes it.”

“Can you show me?” Nolwud interrupted. Eyes all fell upon the inventor. Stammering, Nolwud mumbled, “T-the scratching. I want to hear it.”

“Who are you?” The second individual leaned close. “You smell like worms.”

“You don't look right,” said the third. “Does anyone else think there's something different about this one?”

“Who are you?” the second one demanded once more.

“My name is Nolwud,” blubbered the Technologist, unable to think of anything better.

“That's not a number,” said the first, lifting swords. Recognizing the fault in deception, the inventor backpedaled in an attempt to remain in one piece.

“A 'Nolwud' is a number that doesn't have value,” the Technologist lied. “I've been told I have no value so I shouldn't be granted a number with one.”

“Oh.” The weapons lowered. “You're one of those.”

“No wonder they didn't give you any swords,” said the third with a snort. “No-value.”

“I, uh, do what I can with what I've got,” said Nolwud.

The fourth individual slapped the Technologist on the back. “You want to listen to the magus and see if you can hear the scratching too?”

“There's nothing to hear,” said the third.

“We'll see about that,” jeered the fourth. “If no-value Nolwud can hear it, what does that say about you?”

Nolwud acted familiar with the layout while subtly allowing the other to lead. They passed through a large open chamber where, in the rear of the room, a large settle occupied by a large figure sat. The Technologist didn't tarry, keeping pace with the other and following dutifully until they arrived in a small room occupied only by the limp and motionless Lordavis. There were no restraints on the magus, clearly unnecessary with the state the ruler was in. The naked interloper collected the magus, hoisted up, and offered to Nolwud. “Listen. Tell me what you hear.”

Nolwud looked to the magus, looked at the other, then looked back Lordavis. “I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

“Come on,” said the eager stranger. “You asked.”

Nolwud considered then motioned downwards. “Get away from the magus. You might try to trick me. I want to hear for myself.”

The nudist, slightly offended, lowered Lordavis to the floor. Nolwud dropped a sphere and retreated into the tunnel as a bubble of electricity emanated throughout the room. Both the unwitting guide and Lordavis were caught in the blast, the latter Nolwud doubted would be any worse for it. As the electric pulse sizzled away, Nolwud rushed in, collected Lordavis, and disappeared further down the burrow.

The Technologist sincerely hoped the magus could be revived.