Galthor raised his brows. "You want to see me?"

Lord Doveling nodded. "Yes. Let me ask you a question, Lord Galthor. What do you think of the banners?"

He wasn't expecting a question like that, and he took his time to answer. What did he think of the banners? What a strange question.

"The banners... they are the banners. They have their own goals. Why are you asking me such a question?"

Lord Doveling did not reply immediately. His unblinking dark eyes fixed on Galthor without moving. After a short pause, he continued. "Why did I ask? Because you are now part of the banners, and I want to know what you think."

Galthor felt a flash of irritation. He just couldn't help it. "That's why you said you want to see me?"

"Of course not! I just want to ask you what you thought of the banners. On that same note, what do you think of the Howling? Specifically the Root."

Galthor froze. He looked at the Xyrrh in front of him with a completely stunned expression. He knew if he could read the expression on Lord Doveling's face, he would find the ant smiling, but at the moment...

'..but maybe I shouldn't really be surprised. Lady Pelica did tell me that the Xyrrh are one of the strongest in the Root of Howling. It's only right that they have strong intelligence as well..'

"I don't have much thought on the Root. I've not been there."

"Ah! The Root isn't a location, you know. It's more of a title, an abstract word that's used to refer to those who don't join a main branch in the Howling," Lord Doveling said patiently.

"Even then, I have no thoughts."

Lord Doveling nodded, his antenna nodding with him. "As expected. After all, you just recently joined the Howling. You can't know much of the ruthlessness that abounds in a place like that.

"I'll give you a short lesson. There was once a dominant race in the Root. They held so much sway they were hailed as the strongest in the Root. Even stronger than most lesser branches, and given some years, they might even change history and ascend directly to join the main branches."

Galthor already got the suspicion of how the story ends. "And then what happens after that?"

"They were wiped out. Every single race in the Root came together and wiped them out to the last cell of their race," Lord Doveling said.

"Why?" Galthor asked with flat eyes.

"Nobody knows, not truly. Some said it was the main branches that gave the orders. Some said it was the GrooveKeepers. And there are rumors of the lesser branches' involvement. But most believed everyone in the Root just wanted a piece of them," Lord Doveling finished speaking.

"I'm sure there's something you're trying to say there, but I can't seem to recall it."

Lord Doveling laughed. It was strange, hearing an ant laugh. The voice did not come from his mouth; it was more of the air moving in a certain way. "There are two, actually, but I'll tell you only one now. It has something to do with having too much strength in a dangerous place."

"I don't know that that's a bad thing."

"Anything can be a bad thing depending on the location, Lord Galthor. Remember that."

Indeed, everything he had been saying... did not relate to him. Galthor looked at him. He decided to go in blunt, as it had never failed before. "Lord Doveling, you are talking about yourself, right? I hear that the Xyrrhs are one of the strongest."

If the Xyrrh in front of him could blink, he would be blinking at Galthor. Why did he have to be so blunt? Did he not know the subtlety that came with politics? Fine, he could be blunt as well. "You're somewhat right, Lord Galthor. I want to formally extend the warmth of our Mother Queen to you. We want you to join our secondary colony. Do you accept?"

Galthor did not hesitate. "I refuse."

"The Root is dangerous if you are alone," Lord Doveling warned.

"Yes. But tell your Mother Queen that I want to be on equal footing."

"You are a barbarian," Lord Doveling said flatly.

"Yes, that's exactly why. Too much has been taken already."

Lord Doveling watched him some more, and then the antenna twitched with a shrug. "I have said my own."

They fell into silence after that. Galthor had a lot to think about. First, he felt a pang in his heart about the deal with Lady Pelica and that maybe he had been too hasty. But at least, they were on equal footing with that one.

But the Xyrrh's people were totally different. They wanted him to be directly beneath them.

A god. To be under them?

That must have hints of blasphemy.

It is blasphemy.

Must be.

But apart from that, there was another thing to consider. The why. Why did they want to form a relationship with the Stronghide? Were they betting on his potential rise?

"I want to ask, Lord Doveling....."

"Why is your tunnel so confusing! Don't tell me these humans don't know the way?" someone suddenly growled out, their voice reverberating through the tunnels.

Galthor turned his head as he saw the human slaves of the Xyrrh enter, followed by four Kobolds, the leader's eyes flashing.

Lord Doveling clicked his clawed mouth. "Indeed, sometimes it gets confusing for them. I am sorry for that. Welcome, Alpha Carter."

The Alpha grunted as he strode into the room. "You are here already, barbarian chief."

Galthor stopped wondering if Lord Doveling's intention was to stall the others so they could talk. "Well met, Alpha Carter."

"The Winged people are not here? Are they not the ones that called the meeting?" he asked as he picked a seat, his subordinates finding their own places.

Lord Doveling's antenna flickered in a shrug. "Indeed, they called it. But we must still wait for them. Besides, the time isn't far gone at all."

Before he even finished speaking, they heard another set of footsteps walking toward the meeting room.

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