The Bee Dungeon

Belissar watched with a smile as Paisijik handed out her honeycomb and then offered the remaining half of the tray to the God of Bees. He was only slightly surprised this time when the Shrine lit up. What work would the God of Bees approve of more than beekeeping, after all?

A challenger has been fully blessed.

Gained 20 DP.

A challenger has selected a blessing unique to your patron.

Gained additional 10 DP.

His smile grew, for he had a feeling he knew what sort of blessing Paisijik had selected.

Only then, did he see the words that caused his jaw to drop.

Mission: Teach the karnuq the art of beekeeping completed!

Reward: One flask of ambrosia

Belissar gaped at the message for a while. He jumped when Niobee landed on him to ensure he could feel her dance.

“King ok?”

Belissar gulped.

“I…I don’t know. If…this is what I think it is…then…”

He stumbled over to the chest and gently lifted the lid with trembling hands. There, sitting innocuously at the bottom, was a simple, unadorned wooden flask, sealed by beeswax and propolis. Belissar slowly reach down for it, flinching back just before touching it.

Even as a Tower Keeper blessed by two gods, even though he knew much of the doctrine on the gods he was raised with was wrong, still he hesitated to touch the flask. How could he not? In the tales Mrs. Imkomos told him, those of ancient heroes and great deeds from a time before the hunger or even the kings of old, ambrosia was nothing less than the ultimate treasure. The food of the gods themselves, said to heal any ailment or injury. Said to grant long, or even eternal, life to the mortals lucky enough to taste it. Rumor among the peasantry had it that the Tower Lords were gifted with ambrosia and that this was the reason for their long life, though as many others claimed such a thing did not and could not exist.

This…this was something even Mrs. Imkomos wasn’t certain actually existed. Only that, whether as metaphor or reality, ambrosia represented one of the most precious gifts a god could offer to a mortal who had found their favor.

And now Belissar had a flask of it.

He gulped and gathered his courage, then touched the flask. After he was not struck down by divine retribution, he wrapped his fingers around the flask and gingerly lifted it out of the chest. He held it in front of his face with both hands, staring at it.

He very gently uncorked the cap and glanced inside, angling it so the light of the sun would illuminate the insides. His eyes widened. He blinked and looked again. He blinked, rubbed his eyes to ensure nothing obscured his sight, and then looked again. He looked once more with his Tower sight. There, sitting in the flask, was a viscous golden liquid…and one that, surprisingly, he recognized. Ambrosia, the legendary food of the gods…was a type of honey? A honey more golden and flowing more smoothly than any he had ever seen before, with a shine and a subtle glow that made it appear more as solid gold, but still honey without any doubt.

Belissar slowly looked up at the statue of the God of Bees. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his pounding heart. Frighteningly legendary treasure or not, this was first and foremost a gift from his patron, a reward for the task she had set him to. If she thought this was an appropriate reward, who was he to object?

So, he simply bowed his head.

“Thank you, I’ll treasure it.”

Belissar immediately store the flask in the core room, leaning right on the core’s pedestal itself. He may have accepted that he was now the owner of a divine treasure from myth and legend, but that didn’t mean he had any idea of what to actually do with it. Should he drink it himself, as a perfectly healthy and young Tower Keeper? Spread it out among the bees, though the size of the flask meant they couldn’t possibly all have a taste? Share it with the karnuq…or one karnuq, as the amount he had would allow? Save it in case someone got an injury or illness they couldn’t heal? The supposed powers of ambrosia were so far and away from anything he had ever dealt with that he couldn’t even begin to decide what an appropriate use of it would be.

So, he didn’t. He placed it in the most secure part of his Tower and left it there, for now. He’d try to remember the stories Mrs. Imkomos has told him in more detail; now that he knew ambrosia was true perhaps there was some truth to the legends too. But later, when he felt slightly less overwhelmed by situations of mythical proportions he now found himself in.

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He took a deep breath, and set out to handle slightly less divine parts of his day…or so he intended.

Because just then, the Tower flooded his vision with more messages. Belissar’s mind, still recovering from receivingambrosia, just went blank and refused to process anything more.

The First of the Fourth’s gardener made her way over to the front of the Flower Meadow, near the wooden platform the hive of the fallen used to reach the sky. It was far enough from the actual battlefield that her experiments wouldn’t get in the way of the daily purifications, but close enough that a success could assist in battle. ṜἈΝôΒΕS̈

If she had any successes, that was.

She had been at it for a few days and now there were several thorny stems just starting to grow into bushes around the platform. She had filled the original rose flowers with pollen, taken the seed that resulted, and then planted them over here. She then had come here each day and stuffed the sprouts with as much of her mana as she could, boosting their growth as fast as she could without harming their health. The flowers had grown and bloomed quickly, allowing her to see the results of her labors.

But none of them had proven suitable for her goals. Oh, the flowers had changed, that much was a success. A cross with mana flowers had boosted the plant’s overall mana density and strengthened its thorns. It had grown more popular with the foragers than its original parent, but that was it. It was still just a small flower with some small, if surprisingly sharp, thorns. Nothing that could stop a shade like the karnuq and the wall of long spines they carried. A shade could simply walk around it, or step, jump, or fly over it, or use fire, lightning, or dark mist to destroy it. It would not contribute anything to the battle but a minor inconvenience.

So, she had tried other combinations. The poisonous herbs gave thorns dripping with purple sap. A ground mana flower hardened the stems and thorns until they were like rock. The flame radish, in exchange for nearly burning her legs trying to carry heated pollen, resulted in thorns hot to the touch.

But, in the end, they were all still just roses with small flowers. None of them could stop a shade. None of them could fulfill her desire to defend the hive of hives alongside her queen.

So, she had branched out. She had tried pollen from every flower she could get her legs on. From mundane and medicinal flowers from the most exotic flowers in the furthest corners of the King’s Realm, ones she had to ask the gardeners of the other hives to help her gather. Medicinal herbs just made the thorns thinner and weaker. Seeds pollinated by cloudberries and underworld phlox just failed to germinate at all, their mana informing her that the Flower Meadow simply wasn’t suitable.

Still, none of them had worked. By the time she approached the gardeners of the Apiary for assistance, she had grown desperate. It seemed that this idea, too, would be a failure. That there would truly be no way for her to contribute anything of note to the hive of hives’ defenses. That there would be no way for her to participate in her queen’s grand mission.

So, she had done something she wasn’t supposed to. The other gardeners had directed her to the most exotic flowers in the Apiary: the slime flower with its viscous sap. She had to recruit the assistance of a slime worker from the First of the Fifth to even approach this one, unable to locate any pollen that she could recognize. The worker had gathered a glob of slime a bit more solid than the rest that she insisted was some kind of pollen. The gardener had had her doubts but who was she to refuse at this point?

So, against her better judgement, she had jabbed her legs into the gooey mass and flown it back through the King’s Realm, until she arrived back at her roses. Then, she had flown over a scattered mess of multi-colored dust, her attempt to make a pollen bag out of every different kind of pollen she could gather. It hadn’t worked, the pollen from different sources refused to stick together and the whole thing fell apart at the slightest breeze. Her instincts had even warned her that this was a bad idea, that it would turn out poorly even if she could get all the pollen together.

She hadn’t cared, so she went and smashed the gooey mass over the pollen, turning the whole thing into a slimy, grungy mess as the different colors blended together within the slime. Then she had stuffed the whole thing into the nearest mana rose and flown off to sleep.

In something of a surprise, that flower had actually produced a seed. She had planted the seed and stuffed it with as much mana as she could make. That had been the last idea she had, so she wished with all that she was that something would result. That the Queen of All Bees would guide her to a way to defend the hive of hives.

Today, she would check on that seed. Her wings slowed as she grew closer to the bush. Every instinct she had as a gardener told her that mixing the pollens like that, especially with the slimy one, should have ended badly. If the seed failed the germinate, then…well, she didn’t know what she’d do then. Maybe go volunteer to serve the hive of the fallen, the hive made of only bees that had truly fought to defend the hive of hives. If they would take a failure such as herself…

She had to force herself to fly past the other roses so she could see the spot she had planted the seed. Her wings buzzed and she nearly dropped to the ground. The seed had, at least, managed to sprout and germinate.

Which meant that now was the next moment of truth. She couldn’t even force herself to fly again, this time crawling across the ground until she stood before the little shoot. It was a tiny thing, smaller than her with naught but two little leaves on top of its miniature stem. She stopped moving her abdomen to draw in air as she gingerly extended her mana towards the plant, intending to find out what exactly it was…

And then, the shoot twitched.

She felt its mana slam into her own, and nearly stepped back from shock. A gardener’s mana could connect with that of a plant, feeding her information on its current state. But never before had a plant moved its own mana towards hers. Not with the mana flowers, or even the slimy flower. The mana of plants normally barely reacted to her presence.

This plant was all but stuffing its mana into hers. It was not letting her analyze its condition. It was telling her what it felt. It was thirsty, and it wanted more water. And its reaction was not limited to mana. Its stem bent as far as the tiny stem could, its two little leaves waving vaguely in her direction.

And as her mind shook at these revelations, her own mana returned with its own report, telling her the general characteristics of the plant along with its current state. As she processed the information, her wings began to buzz.

This one…might not be a failure after all. Which meant that…maybe, just maybe, neither was she.

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