Chapter 645 RnD

The hammer of anvils and the searing heat of metal surrounded Smithant on all sides and she couldn’t be happier.

“How do I manage this part?” another carver scuttled up to her and asked.

“Ah, the folding? It’s like this… ” she explained the process with care and demonstrated some of the techniques on her own workbench as the other ant watched with laser-like focus.

“I understand,” the carver nodded, “I’ll make an attempt and return to see what you think.”

So saying the ant ran off to her own workspace and soon another anvil was ringing in chorus along with the others. It felt so nice to have helpers! It was only weeks ago when she was labouring on these projects by herself! Only weeks? It seemed like a lifetime ago. After breaking through with her Skills and forging the first suit of enchanted ant armour for Leeroy, she’d managed to receive the blessing of the Eldest and, suffice to say, the word of the most important ant in the Colony went a long way toward getting approval.

With more resources at her disposal, and the help to make use of them, the armour workshop of the Colony was now a small thriving community of armoursmiths, dedicated to their profession with the sort of unflinching fanaticism that came so naturally to the ants.

Filled with pleasant feelings and eager to return to her own work, Smithant was more than a little irritated to hear a clamour and rush and a horde of ants descended into the workshop, taking up space and hauling what appeared to be heavy sacks filled with the unmistakable tinkle of metal on metal. At least they were interrupting her for something worthwhile, she grumbled. As long as there was metal involved, she was interested.

“What has got you lot so riled up?” she demanded as the cavalcade of ants flooded into her workspace, covering every inch of the walls and ceiling, taking up defensive positions.

“Sorry for the trouble,” came a recognised scent, “the generals are a little nervous about this stuff and wanted a full security detail. Forget that the largest soldiers won’t even fit in the workshop area.”

“Tungstant?”

The carver council member skittered into the room, poking and prodding at the bags on the ground with her front legs. It was quite rare for the council members to show up here, especially right now.

“I thought you were working on the defences of the three nests… What are you doing here?”

The council member shook her antennae and kept prodding at the bags.

“Because of this stuff, obviously. I’ve been told what we have here, but I haven’t actually seen it. Come on over here and let’s have a look, I’m so curious to have a look.”

“What could they possibly bring in that would need this kind of attention?” As curious as she was, Smithant kind of resented having so many of her siblings crowded into her private work area. Nobody had bothered to come in here before, why were they so desperate to jump in now?!

Still, the lure of the bags drew her in. What could it be? A new mineral or type of metal? It was possible that scouts and miners had turned up something new and unexpected in their explorations. The Colony refused to abandon expansion and search efforts during the conflict after all.

Interest stirred within the carapace of the crafter and she found herself drawn to the sharply angled lumps hidden with the bags. Where the heck did the Colony even get bags from anyway? Tungstant noticed her unspoken question.

“We’ve started making them to help carry stuff. One ant, even a carver, can carry a heck of a lot in two bags slung over the carapace. Now help me get these things open.”

It took a few moments for the two to recognise the bottom of the unfamiliar container and upend it to send the precious contents tumbling out onto the floor. The moment the gleaming plates of enchantment encrusted armour hit the floor, something magical happened, something remarkable, unexplainable and unfathomable. It was a lightning strike, an earthquake, an eruption and an implosion all at once, and it took place directly in the centre of Smithant’s heart.

In that instant, she fell in love.

“What… what have you…”

Her pheromones trailed away to nothing as she drew ever closer to the gleaming plates of armour. Her antennae swept forward to caress the curved metal with an almost tender softness as her mandibles clacked together rhythmically. If she noticed this strange behaviour, Tungstant didn’t seem to pay it any mind. Indeed, she’d been around the carvers long enough to know what could happen to them around the objects of their obsession. This level of strangeness didn’t even approach the kind of things that stupid sculpture inspired ant had done since she’d started working.

“These are full sets of Legion armour that we seized from the battlefield, one set in each of these bags. The mages have swept over and analysed them to the best of their ability in order to check if there are hazardous enchantments on them, but if there is it’s far beyond our ability to detect it.”

“I see.”

Tungstant wasn’t confident that she’d been heard, but she continued anyway.

“If fact, from what I’ve been told from those who’ve taken a look at this, the technology on display is far beyond anything we have at our disposal. The mages weren’t even able to identify the materials used to make these suits. We can’t even speculate on it, to be honest. Naturally, as the foremost expert on the subject, we decided to bring this to you. Learn whatever you can from them, but be careful, we don’t know what this armour can do if you start melting it down.”

“Melt it down?!” Smithant cried, coming back to her senses, “sacrilege! Who would possibly of destroying such perfection?”

She snatched up one of the pauldrons in her mandibles as an antenna drooped down to pet the curved metal.

“Noone will hurt you my darling. My gem… My preciousss.”

“Great! I’ll leave you to it then,” Tungstant said and turned around to hurry back to her own work.

The many guards and sentries remained in place, but Smithant didn’t see them, couldn’t possibly imagine they existed. All of the material things in creation were only herself, and the armour. All else was dust.