Aurum - Year 3
As soon as I arrived at the meeting room, the royal guards at the large doors quickly opened them for me. Entering the room with an irritated air, I noticed a few members of the inner circle already gathered. Steve, with his usual tidy and professional appearance, was seated with his arms crossed and eyes closed—probably handling some matter through the link. Hans sat motionless, as still as a statue. The golden glow of his eyes gleamed through the gaps in his armor, his spear resting peacefully in one of his arms while the other three remained free. Carl, noticeably bulkier than most in the hive, was sipping from a large pot of honey through a straw. He looked healthy, though his larger size was due to his class rather than indulgence.
Miles, the head of the transportation club, was also there, unsurprisingly arguing with his brother Matt, the leader of the "herders." The herders are responsible for overseeing the collection club, ensuring they know where to go, how long to stay, when to return, and alerting the soldiers to any possible danger. They have incredibly sharp senses, making them essential to the hive’s safety.
Miles and Matt always bicker, yet they seem to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Honestly, I don’t know how it works. How can someone like someone else yet barely go five minutes without fighting with them? Their arguments aren’t serious—more like petty jabs. Matt will call Miles "a stiff-necked idiot who knows nothing outside the hive," to which Miles retorts, "At least I do my job diligently! Unlike you, who can't even lead your own group because you're too lazy!"
Matt is a free spirit—curious, always seeking new experiences, and passionate about feeling life intensely. He doesn’t worry much about work, which is unusual for my children. Miles, on the other hand, is diligent, reliable, and well-respected within the hive. He’s social, funny, and takes pride in doing his job perfectly, a stark contrast to Matt.
Another member present was Trevis, and I was still annoyed by our previous conversation. Sure, he’s entitled to his opinion, but did he really have to be such a jerk? I’m trying to be the queen here, but it's hard when no one takes me seriously.
Then there was Jasper, who surprised me with how different he looked. He used to give off a "herbalist" vibe—strong scents of various herbs, fur stained with pastes and potions, tools attached to his waist. But now? He looks like a mad alchemist. Thick leather gloves on his hands, large goggles, a bag strapped to his waist, and a mix of burning and herbal scents clung to him. He appeared more professional, but far from clean, which is very unusual in the hive and clearly bothered the others.
For some reason, everyone here is obsessed with cleanliness. You won’t find a speck of dust in the entire hive, even in the messiest places like the sawmill, alchemy club, farms, kitchens, and infirmary—everything shines. Honestly, I can't complain. I’d much rather live with cleanliness fanatics than bees who don’t care about dirt.
Moving on, I spotted one of the hive’s most famous duos—Radyo and Pyper, the two faces behind all the news in the hive. Pyper crafts the stories and plots—he’s "the mastermind"—while Radyo, the beloved "voice," delivers the news. Radyo was dressed in a suit, which was unusual here. It had a vertical striped pattern in gold and white, paired with a tie and a strange brooch, giving him a very elegant and trustworthy appearance.
Pyper, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. If Radyo was a bright beacon, Pyper was like a dim, flickering light. He’s so forgettable that if I don’t focus directly on him, I barely remember he's there. His outfit was simple yet beautiful—a long-sleeved shirt that flared at the wrists and fit tighter at the shoulders. The design echoed the vertical stripes on Radyo’s suit but was completely white with subtle gold accents. His loose gray pants were similar to jeans but had a strategic opening for his "bee butt," which I found rather impressive.
In truth, about 90% of the hive doesn’t wear clothes. We don’t have anything to "cover up," so why bother? Maybe I should be concerned that the boys are all eunuchs, incapable of... you know. But ever since my recent evolution, I’ve been feeling uncomfortable in this "human" body, and wearing clothes might help ease that discomfort.
The only ones who wear clothes are the members of the sewing club, led by Ken, some members of the information club, and most of the cooks. I think the cooks do it more for hygiene than style though. The rest prefer to go about "as they came into the world." The next members to enter were the dynamic duo, Ray and Jay, the head chefs of the cooking club. Ray specialized in "nutrition," focusing on creating meals that could feed the masses efficiently. Steve often relied on Ray to maximize food production while minimizing resource use. And Jay, on the other hand, was Carl's favorite, known for crafting the most extravagant and delicious desserts in the hive, including my personal favorite "shakes."
Their distinct culinary styles were reflected in their attire. Ray donned a white beret adorned with a unique golden brooch. He wore a beige jumpsuit over a white short-sleeved shirt with horizontal stripes, complemented by a lemon-yellow apron, giving him a friendly and approachable appearance. Jay's ensemble was equally charming: a white beret, a long-sleeved shirt with elastic cuffs creating delicate gathers, a print featuring various sweets in soft gray tones, beige shorts matching Ray's overalls, and black tights that seamlessly blended with his legs. His baby pink apron, embellished with intricate embroideries and designs, added a touch of elegance.
To me, Ray and Jay resembled a lemon and a strawberry, respectively—both exuding a delicate and gentle demeanor befitting their roles as chefs. Ray's attire conveyed professionalism, akin to a head of a food industry, while Jay's ensemble radiated kindness and tranquility, reminiscent of a grandmother who has been baking sweets all her life.
The final member present was Zuki, the leader of the sewing club and the creative mind behind all these stylish outfits. He wore a stunning feather boa made from the plumage of an exotic creature, paired with form-fitting clothes that showcased intricate haute couture patterns. His ensemble, resembling a dress with a cut from the knees to the waist, allowed for ease of movement.
Although some members were absent, they participated through the "Link," offering comments when necessary. Without further delay, I proceeded to my seat, acknowledging everyone as I passed. As expected, Yan appeared beside me, acting as my shadow. Given my stature, everyone else seemed quite small, which made me feel as though I was about to address a group of children.
"Everyone stand in the presence of the—" Yan began.
"Listen here, I don't have time for formalities, so I'm going to get to the point right away," I said, cutting Yan off and causing a slight commotion among the inner circle.
"What have you all been doing in the hive during my absence?!?" I nearly shouted.
There was a moment of silence, as if they didn't comprehend the question. Eventually, Carl paused his eating and spoke up.
"What do you mean, Queen Mother? There's nothing wrong with the hive. I don't understand your question," Carl said, clearly confused.
"I'm referring to the rules! How has this place changed so much under your care? We're supposed to be a family! This place should be our safe haven and home, not a monstrous factory!"
Steve, without opening his eyes, responded, "I don't think the hive is a 'horror factory'; it just operates as efficiently as possible. Yes, we had to sacrifice some 'privileges' along the way, but we are finally stable enough to declare long-term self-sustainability."
"We are not a corporation or a company to work like crazy! We are a family! It shouldn't be like that! We should focus on the comfort of our home first! No one starts building a house from the roof!"
"Exactly! The same goes for other things. When building a house, we start with the basic infrastructure, keeping it firm and stable to withstand all adversities, and only at the end is it furnished. No one throws a party in a house without walls or furniture," Steve countered.
I hated being refuted like that so much... Damn it... Don't yell, don't yell, think objectively. The problem doesn't seem to be just the boys; it seems to be something deeper. Why did they have to rush to achieve self-sustainability in a way that required sacrificing their comfort in the first place? What was the point of such a rush?
"Huff—" I sighed, breaking the silence in the room. "So, Steve, explain to me. Why were the plans rushed? Why does my backyard look like a military camp? Why are my children living under these strange, ridiculous rules, as if in some kind of military dictatorship? And why do we need to race against the clock like this?" I asked, looking at Steve calmly.
The room reacted. The members of the inner circle, scattered around, quickly settled into their places, tensing like metal rods. They expected me to scream, complain, or throw a tantrum.
But they didn’t expect me to simply ask.
"Well... recently, the waves of beasts have been causing us trouble. The demonic creatures are driving herds and groups of magical beasts from the forest into the plains. The Kobolds help by hunting smaller ones and scaring off the larger threats. However, we've adopted an aggressive architectural design that naturally deters some enemies. And speaking of the Kobolds, their numbers are growing, which means more mouths to feed. While the increase in beasts has helped alleviate their food problem, they still rely on us for raw materials like glue, fabrics, wax, propolis, and herbs, not to mention a variety of industrial goods," Steve explained, unfazed by my actions.
"That alone doesn’t explain the frantic work pace and these strange rules. It feels like you're rushing for something that makes no sense."
"Rushing for something meaningless?" Jasper interjected, visibly annoyed. "We're trying to ensure the hive's dominance in this region!"
"Please, explain," I replied.
"The humans, the beasts, the kobolds! With all the mana here, and even the land itself, we can't take down a damn RED WOLF without more than 200 heavily armed soldiers, magical assistance, healers, intel, and potions! Do you understand what that means? We’re powerless against humans! They kill beasts that we wouldn't dare face head-on! And you think we can just sit in a theater listening to music and solve these problems?" Jasper nearly growled, clenching his teeth.
"I understand the situation. That’s why I suggested a ‘Strategic Retreat.’ We don’t have to fight or even protect this place. We could move somewhere quieter and start over," I said, trying to reason with them.
"We can't just move. We’ve got machines, projects, weapons, experiments, rations, and people that can’t be transported quickly or safely," Trevis countered.
"We could modify the palanquin," I proposed.
"How?" Steve asked, intrigued.
"Palanquins are one of the engineering club’s inventions," I paused, searching my memory for the inventor's name before continuing. "So, I thought if we could adapt them, turn them into something like a ‘human-powered shuttle,’ we could use them to transport resources and hive members who can’t fly."
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Some of the group pondered the idea. That’s one of the things I appreciate about the hive—we can share thoughts and ideas instantly through our link, without needing to explain or illustrate them with words or drawings.
Here’s how it works: if someone imagined building a time machine, for instance, they wouldn’t need to know the details of how it worked. They would just visualize the concept and pass it along. Other hive members would analyze the idea and add or tweak fundamental principles, forming a “mental prototype” that a researcher could later attempt to bring to life with the entire hive’s help.
It's like one big brainstorming session where everyone collaborates to come up with grand ideas, and that’s why all research and creative areas are always busy—there’s always something new to try or experiment with.
"Hmm... it's possible. We’d need some input from the engineering and carpentry clubs. Maybe Max could help reduce the weight of the structure using a levitation spell?" Steve mused.
'W-we could r-reduce the weight by us-sing hollow wo-ooden boards filled with moss-s. The moss would lighten the s-structure and help glue-e everything together...' Levi added through the link.
"Hmm... We could create comfortable seating using cushions and simple wooden frames. What do you think?" Zuki suggested.
"I think it would waste space. We should stack the non-flying members inside to maximize capacity," Steve countered.
"What a dumb idea! That would only make it harder to escape in an emergency, plus it would add too much strain on the palanquin. We need to establish a maximum weight for each craft," Carl said, not even pausing from his snacks.
"Hmm, we could have the younger soldiers pull the structure. They’re strong, healthy, and not of much tactical value in a serious fight. The priority would be transporting the members of the information club, cooks, and seamstresses," Hans proposed.
'Speaking of which, I want to remind you all about the "Moving Castle" project!' Max chimed in through the link, clearly excited.
"Give it a rest. That's way too ambitious for someone who can't even create a simple cylindrical engine that rotates an axis at adjustable speeds using mana as fuel," Miles shot back.
'Shut up! I'm close! I just need to create a mana pattern that generates enough kinetic energy to keep the axis rotating constantly!' Max replied, sounding genuinely frustrated.
'What kind of ridiculous ideas are these?' I thought, keeping a calm, static smile on my face. These little shits have BIG plans, while I'm over here just trying to figure out how to open the system tutorial.
As I dug into the details of these projects, I found something surprising: the boys had already created a steam engine. And apparently, they’ve had it for a while.
They use a large patch of [Blooming Bloom] flowers, fed with [Fire Crystals], to heat a massive "boiler" made of nuts, mud, and rocks, generating steam. This steam is then transported through pipes to a strange contraption made from a natural alloy created by the alchemists, carved crystals, and wooden gears.
The contraption has a large main gear attached to the crystal box structure, and this so-called "steam engine" is essentially a wooden propeller that spins rapidly with the directed steam flow, generating kinetic energy to drive the external gear. This external gear powers various other machines like grinders, crushers, mixers, pressers, and cutters. Everything runs on a current of hot air that flows through the tubes and condenses, returning to the boiler where it gets reheated.
And they still wonder why I feel useless here. Could you build a steam engine? Even if you understood the concept and had the materials? Materials that mostly melt at high temperatures? Because I sure as hell couldn’t even make a door lock, let alone a steam generator powered by magic flowers, stones, crystals, glue, and sheer creativity.
In the name of Shakira, I was just a 30-something woman with a crappy job—when I was human, anyway. My creativity was polluted by all the R18, BL, and GL books I read in my free time. My imagination died when I learned I’d have to work until I was 65 just to retire with some semblance of stability! I mean, seriously? I was a librarian! I was lucky to even afford those R18 books, because the rest of my money went to bills. I didn’t go to school, and worse—I couldn’t even become a civil servant! I was a librarian for a private company that somehow thought it was my fault people preferred their phones to books in the 21st century!
"We can’t just run away like this, brothers! It took us years of hard work to establish ourselves in this region and map a significant part of the forest. Plus, this area serves as an excellent XP farm for our soldiers," Trevis said.
"Hmm... That's true. We need to analyze the situation and explore the implications of each choice," Steve replied.
"I don’t think risking our family is a viable option anymore. As the leader of the fight club, I would never allow anyone under my supervision to enter a fight they can't win," Hans said sharply.
"You’re not seeing the bigger picture, Hans. More prey means more XP. Yes, soldiers might get injured, but the healers and the care club can fix them. Soldiers level up, mommy gains more XP, the hive as a whole benefits, and the healers can further develop their skills. Additionally, if the soldiers face more dangers, there will be greater investment in weaponry, armor, and medical research," Trevis argued, trying to persuade the majority of the inner circle.
As soon as Trevis' words settled, the room seemed to freeze momentarily. Tension filled the air, and everyone appeared a bit uncomfortable. At first, I didn’t understand why, but soon the reason became clear.
Hans seemed to be using his higher level and some skills to exert an invisible pressure on the members of the inner circle present. It might be uncomfortable for them, but for me, it felt insignificant—like trying to cut down a tree with a rubber axe.
"How naive and disrespectful. It seems you’ve forgotten your role and whom you’re speaking to. It’s a shame for me, as the eldest, to see your naivety, Trevis. How do you expect to overcome the increasing number of beasts in the region? Or the likely arrival of humans? Let me guess, you think, 'If we level up quickly enough, we can kill bigger and stronger creatures, and soon we could face or even defeat humans in a fight.' Simply foolish," Hans said coldly, his eyes glinting more intensely than usual.
"I—" Trevis attempted to defend himself, clenching his teeth.
"Be quiet while I’m speaking. As the eldest, my duty is to keep all my brothers safe from any danger. I will not tolerate such insolence from someone in a high position like you. Your role is to obey orders; it’s not your place to ask questions or challenge Mother’s words. Do you think you know better? It’s idiocy. Someone who hides behind skills and whose only notable ability is forgetfulness has no right to voice opinions on military or security matters. That is the responsibility of the LifeGuardians and the information club, who can debate the best survival strategies based on a thorough analysis of the hive’s innate and shared knowledge," Hans said, glaring coldly at Trevis.
"You—"
"SHUT UP!" Hans shouted, intensifying his aura, making the non-combat members of the inner circle—practically everyone—tremble and avert their gazes. "You have no real experience in combat, organization, or resource management. Your opinions are nothing more than foolish ideas born from your limited worldview. Instead of following the proper channels and presenting this 'idea' to the information club, waiting for a thorough analysis, you’ve disrespected Mother, this meeting, and the rules! You feel no remorse in suggesting the 'sacrifice' of young, inexperienced soldiers, and you still try to disguise this 'incredible idea' as a noble act for the future of the hive," Hans scolded.
Holy capybara! I know Hans always stands up for me, but now he was being a bit... harsh? He practically humiliated Trevis in front of everyone. I felt bad; I never thought Trevis’ idea was “horrible.” I just thought it was... selfish? Who chooses "profit" over keeping their family safe? I don’t care if it delays research or costs us resources—our lives are worth more than any XP I could gain.
There will always be something to kill for XP, resources to explore, and territories to conquer. But the boys and I each have only one life. If we die, it’s game over—no second chances, no backup. It’s simply... over. And I won’t let that happen to them. My babies come first; I gave birth to each one of them. How could I bear the thought of burying them by the dozens? Hundreds?
My heart would shatter in a way that could never be repaired. Even if everyone said no, I know it would be my fault. We shouldn’t even be having this ridiculous conversation. We should be packing our bags and running toward the horizon. For all I know, those terrifying humans with more weapons than Rambo could be coming here right now.
I just need to... figure out what to do with the kobolds. I learned something from all the past events: I can’t take care of others if I can’t even take care of myself. I wish I could help them more, but I think I’ve already done enough, haven’t I? They’re practically tall enough already. The only real problem for me is Ciel. What do I do with him? The hive won’t accept him back—at least not for real. They’d always think of him as a traitor and never let him feel at home.
I could leave him with Hilda and use him as an "infiltrated spy." When Hilda dies, he could return to the hive... I think?
Turning my attention back to the discussion in front of me, I saw Trevis leaving the room quickly while everyone began to breathe normally again. Hans remained unshaken, as always, and it didn’t even seem like he had just scolded his own brother.
"Very well. We’ll analyze the situation as a whole and decide if fleeing is our best option. Do we have a place in mind? Or are we still uncertain?" Steve asked.
"The extreme south. That area is largely unexplored, and we might find something of value there. The north is the 'land of the beastmen.' I’m not eager to go east and delve deeper into the forest. As far as we know, the west is human territory, so that's out of the question."
"Hmmm... the south, you mean?... I believe that’s 'demon' lands?" Matt interjected.
"Really?" Miles asked, surprised.
"Yes, I remember a report from Ciel where Hilda mentioned it. I found it intriguing, so it stuck in my memory. But when I say 'demon lands,' I don’t mean the demon lord or anything like that. They're more... I don’t know, half-demons? Or demonic creatures? Hilda said the beastmen made deals with them before the humans took over the borders," Matt explained.
"Hmm... This information is very useful. If this demonic race has poor relations with humans, we have a better chance of establishing friendly ties with them. I wish I could question a human about this, but I don’t think that’s possible," Steve said.
"Yeah, but I remember hearing that it snows really far down south!" Matt chimed in.
"Snow? That’s a problem. We’re not suited for cold temperatures; we wouldn’t adapt to a climate like that," Miles replied.
"True. The seasons in this region seem to vary only between summer and spring, without any significant temperature drops," Jay added.
"Any idea why?" Jasper asked.
"I don’t know—maybe divine intervention? The Morning Goddess might just enjoy sunbathing, or maybe we’re in a region with a tropical climate?" Matt speculated.
"Hmmm... We can’t confirm or deny either theory, so let’s not dwell on it. We’ll file this question away along with the other 'Why does this happen?' questions," Steve said.
"Alright, is there anything else to discuss in this meeting?" Steve asked me.
"No... I plan to visit the clubs soon, but nothing really important. Thanks for all your hard work. I want to conclude this meeting by saying... I apologize. I've always been an infrequent queen and, admittedly, incompetent, but I intend to change that from now on. I’ll start by learning about the general situation of the hive."
"Queen Mother! There's no need to apologize! You’ve done your job perfectly!" Ray exclaimed.
"How is that possible? I feel foolish."
"You wouldn’t expect a rock to produce milk or a potato to lay eggs. Your role as queen is to keep the link active and generate new members for the hive. Just as we can’t ask a common worker to perform the duties of a soldier, we can’t demand that you take on the roles of a magician, an analyst, or a strategist! You fulfill your role in the hive flawlessly! You even manage to handle tasks beyond your class!" Ray declared.
If that was Ray’s motivational speech, I need to keep him away from anyone struggling with self-esteem. He managed to praise me while simultaneously undermining my confidence. I get it—it's truly "unthinkable" for someone in the hive to perform a job unrelated to their class. Cooks don’t forge weapons, musicians don’t conduct research, and wizards don’t dance. For them, it’s as natural and clear as daylight. But as a former human from the 21st century, well-acquainted with concepts like empowerment and self-actualization, it feels strange to say, "A princess can only be a princess, and a soldier can only be a soldier." There’s no room for more adjectives. For them, it’s unreasonable for a soldier to try learning to cook since it’s deemed "useless" for him as a wage earner. And I, as a queen, do more than just sit around all day and lay eggs.
"...Thank you, Ray, but let’s keep this between us, alright? Please don’t try to motivate others with those words," I replied gently.
"Yes, Queen Mother!" Ray replied cheerfully and innocently.
"Very well, I declare this meeting adjourned! Yan, please come with me and guide me through the hive clubs," I said, clapping my hands to signal the end of the meeting as I stood up.
"Oh! I almost forgot! Zuki!" I turned to the drag queen bee, who was adorned in stunning attire.
"Yes, Queen Mother?" Zuki asked, bowing slightly.
"I want clothes—clothes that I can wear... Do you think that’s possible?"
"Oh! What a tremendous honor, my queen! Of course, it’s possible! I will personally take charge of this magnificent project! You can trust that I will create the highest quality garments this hive has to offer!" Zuki exclaimed, clearly excited.
"Thank you, Zuki. I’m looking for something that emphasizes mobility, is comfortable, easy to wear, and isn’t too hot. I don’t need anything extravagant, but I also don’t want to look inappropriate. Do you think you can manage that?"
"Absolutely, my queen! I will personally ask Levi to construct a large wardrobe to accommodate various styles of royal clothing to meet your needs!" Zuki replied with a big smile.
"Thank you, dear! I would love some new clothes; this evolution makes me feel like I’m walking around naked..."
"Please maintain a demeanor befitting your position as Queen Mother," Hans said politely.
"Huff... Alright. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to step away now to lay some eggs and fulfill my duties as queen," I said, smiling at the boys as I walked out the door.
"Eww... How elegant," Miles remarked.