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.