The Bee Dungeon

Speaking of honey and flowers...

The First of the Fifth stomped through her hive, pacing about in a dance of anger.

She had been deceived. Fooled. Swindled.

She knew now why the King had not granted her the flower type that existed only in the Flower Meadow. And that was because this flower was useless.

First of all, it had no mana beyond that of a regular flower. What’s more, unlike the other two flower types the King had spread, this one possessed no particular compounds in its nectar that resonated with mana. The First of the Fifth had made a batch of honey from these flowers and found it little different from that of other flowers. If anything, it felt a bit lower in quality. But the differences were minimal enough that she would not be able to produce a new honey type with it, much less a new bee type.

And that was before she considered the reports from her workers circulating through the hive. The flowers in question were some of the worst they had ever visited. The petals fell off when the bees landed on the flowers, the pollen was especially heavy and difficult to work with, and the entire flower would fall off the plant by evening. The nectar collection was difficult and each flower could only be gathered from a few times, maybe even just once each. Her honey production had even dipped this latest cycle. All for a honey that did not improve upon any other she had made.

She did not believe any plant the King had spread would be entirely useless. But it was clear that whatever special qualities this plant possessed were found elsewhere in the plant, in its stem or perhaps its seeds. Its flowers and its nectar were largely unsuited to the production of honey. The First of the Fifth could do little with it beyond donating a soldier or two to help the King with his own work on it.

And she was paying for access to this plant’s nectar with a portion of her own harvest. Sure, she could also lay claim to any achievements the Firstborn made with that harvest, but such was not enough by itself to justify donating honey to a rival queen. Truly, the Firstborn had played her with this deal. The First of the Fifth’s wings buzzed. She should have followed the wisdom of the King when he did not feel she would appreciate this plant.

But she had not, and now she was trapped. To simply renege on the deal was to admit defeat. And if she stopped gathering from the flowers in question, it would appear as if she was just handing over tribute to the Firstborn unprompted. Their positions in this deal would be reversed.

Yet, to continue expending her workers’ efforts on a suboptimal yield was simply unacceptable. So, she paced and she paced, considering what she could do. She checked the honey for the hundredth time today, searching for any quality that might justify the effort. And like the ninety-nine other times, she found nothing of the sort. She buzzed her wings once again.

She paced and she paced until eventually, she started to slow down. It was clear she would not produce an achievement from this that would earn her the favor of her King. But that did not necessarily mean she could not gain at all. There were other queens besides the Firstborn, after all, and all of them would be searching for ways to increase their favor.

She made her decision and gave her command.

“Send word to the Fourth of the Seventh. I would have words with her.”

The Fourth Queen of the First Dynasty of the Seventh Spawner, the first of her line, slowly flew towards the First of the Fifth’s hive. As slowly as she could without angering the First of the Fifth. She almost came to a halt as she saw the flowers on the ground below. Vibrant colors filled her vision, brighter and fuller than she had ever imagined, drawing her in.

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She would admit she didn’t mind this break from her work. She did what she needed to, but laying eggs got old after the thousandth time or so. And that was about all she did. Sure, her hive produced honey of quantity and quality that would not bring shame to a queen of the Apiary, but she had little to do with that. Her workers were the ones who gathered the nectar and processed it into honey, so she felt they knew better than her and left them to their work. How could she, a bee who rarely even saw the flowers they were gathering from, improve upon that work with uninformed commands?

So, she spent every day like the last. Sipping on honey and laying eggs. Sometimes she went to check on those eggs, but even caring for the brood was the job of workers, not the queen, so she just tried to stay out of their way.

She could not help but watch the dances of her workers. The tales they told of bright and colorful flowers, and of the sweet abundance of nectar they drank directly from the source. Sometimes, the Fourth of the Seventh liked to imagine what it would be like to be a worker, and to see such beauty directly.

But it was not to be. She was the queen, and it was her role to remain in the hive. Every moment she spent doing anything other than laying eggs or restoring her mana would reduce the size of the next generation. She could maybe peek out of the entrance of her hive, but to fly out, or, King forbid, even touch one of the flowers directly would be too much. So, she tried to content herself with the stories she heard.

She wouldn’t use the word bored, for no bee even knew the term, but she found she didn’t mind having something new to do. Though, she was curious, and perhaps a bit worried, about being summoned by the First of the Fifth, the queen of the most powerful and productive hive of the Apiary. But above all...now she had a chance to fly out into the world and see the sights she had heard so much about with her own eyes.

It was more beautiful than she had ever imagined.

But, in the end, the Fourth of the Seventh was a bee still. She slowed down to take in the sights, but she did not stop in the end. She had her jobs to complete, after all, and she would not delay them...more than was reasonable, that is.

The Fourth of the Seventh stood at the entrance of the hive. The First of the Fifth came out to meet her, accompanied by two soldiers and a couple of workers.

“Finally here. I let you gather from new plants in Flower Meadow. In exchange, you help feed soldiers. Understand?”

The Fourth of the Seventh didn’t. Or well, she got what the First of the Fifth was saying but had no idea why the First of the Fifth would do all this. But well, she didn’t see any reason to refuse either.

“Ok, thanks.”

The First of the Fifth buzzed her wings.

“These workers show yours where.”

“Ok.”

The First of the Fifth stared at her a moment longer and then returned to her hive. The soldiers and workers saluted at her. The Fourth of the Seventh looked up at the big soldiers for a moment. They were even bigger than her!

“Let’s go?”

The soldiers and workers saluted, and then off they went.

The First of the Fifth rubbed her front legs together. All had gone according to plan. The Fourth of the Seventh, being one of the last generation of queens, had very little favor, and little chance to gain any. She didn’t even have one of the King’s palaces, and so could barely produce a fraction of the honey the First of the Fifth could. She was weak, unassuming, and, most of all, no threat whatsoever. She wasn’t even a competitor.

So, granting her access to new flowers, even suboptimal ones, was a great boon.

And in exchange, the First of the Fifth got her help with the soldier bees, cutting a big drain on her honey supplies while also ensuring the Fourth of the Seventh wouldn’t grow too quickly from the additional resources.

So, she had granted a favor and secured her influence over her subordinate queens, all in exchange for a boon that was not really a boon. An effective outcome considering the situation overall.

With that, the First of the Fifth returned to her work, seeing what she could do with the honey types she had available.

***

Meanwhile, the Fourth of the Seventh was staring at the soldiers and the workers from the First of the Fifth as they danced a tale for her. A blessed land of plenty, with flowers as far as the eye could see. Of the grand constructions formed by the King, not from wax but from the very stems of flowers.

Her mind raced as she attempted to imagine all these wonderous things.

She made up her mind.

She had to see these things for herself.

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