Interlude: The Call

THE PALE KING

The Wyrm was once again sat upon His throne, frustrated over the battle that'd ended a little more than an hour ago. Although the struggle had been won, it was not in a way He would've liked. The combined strength of Hornet, the human and the barbarian had taken long to break, even with the latter's rather sluggish skills.

Regardless, He'd ultimately released enough power to wear them down, before nearly managing to dispose of the hornet with the distraction of the escaped human He'd Called from above. Then however, as he'd been about to take care of his seduced daughter as well, the other human had stood to face Him instead, unveiling the being whose energy traces He'd found before in the progress. Himself.

This had truly surprised the Pale king and rightfully so. Prior to that, He had sensed almost nothing out of the ordinary about the human. Even with His power held back, He would have surely sensed if a disguised higher being entered the palace. Still, the sentry's, Juss', revealed magic had clearly felt as sacred in nature as His own, however he'd come to have it. Not only that, the creature had called Him by the gods' older moniker, showing that there may still be more rivals on the surface. Most annoyingly, the violent revelation had allowed the losing attackers to make their escape.

Fortunately, it wouldn't really matter.

His enhanced full ability was still greater than anything the empowered human had shown and though He'd failed in destroying him, he and His daughter weren't going to last long in the Void. Same for the hornet and other human, whom He had already ordered to be hunted down. Even now, they were no longer a threat to His unleashed powers.

Which He could finally start putting to proper use. By now he'd personally ensured each of his servants that it was safe to resume their duties.

Indeed, it was time to resume His greater role in Hallownest's eternal growth. The Wyrm began to reach out with His enlarged mind, focusing it on the matters that were truly important.

He had much planned, no matter if it meant losing a couple of Kingsmoulds.

ALLEN

As the white Sun loomed, the seven-man unit now bearing the hastily given designation of Alpha Squad were currently stopped on a desert hill. The name did fit, though, since they were one of the spearheads in the steady advance that'd started yesterday. Even in a little more than twenty four hours, they'd already covered good ground. The little town, point Echo, was already visible in the distance, hopefully close enough for them to reach by tonight, after which they'd quickly secure it.

Right now, however, Allen was laying prone beside the dark clad Lieutenant Steve, eyeing the rows of hostiles still separating them from the town. While the engagements with the increasingly slow golems had been successful so far, the COs had strictly ordered to keep their distance when firing in order to avoid any more casualties. Joseph couldn't disagree. He'd had a personal taste of what those things could do up close.

God damn, he still hadn't gotten enough revenge for that.

The soldier kept glaring at the next 'wave' of unmoving golems and the hovering spheres, his squadmates doing the same. None of them had said anything for a while, waiting for a runner to return. Since all radio was down, Taylor and Lieutenant L had appointed a team of lighter-equipped troops to carry orders between the units to stay coordinated, kind of how Allen knew older armies had done.

Soon enough, he heard quick footsteps approach from the side and looked, as the Lts and Sergeant stood up to speak to the young-looking soldier.
"Sirs," the runner saluted, panting.
"At ease, private," Steve said, arms crossed, "What is our status?"
"All good, Sir. The other squads 're ready to fire on your mark," the kid answered, "rest of my team's dug down with them."
"Well, we should be set, then," Clarke stated.

"Yes," L's muffled voice agreed. "Good thing too. This stop's been taking too long."
"Sir," the private started, "I'll be staying with your squad, right?"
"I think we'll be fine on our own," the Lt replied, "group up with the next squad and stay with them, understood?"
The runner nodded. "Clear as day, Sir." He then adjusted his gun strap, before quickly starting towards the unit positioned to the south.

A few seconds later, Clarke and Steve rejoined the rest of the squad on the ground.
"Alright, Lieutenant, time to get those light rounds out," the sarge said.
"Ahead of you, American," Steve replied, pulling out his sidearm, as the other foreigner finished setting himself back down as well.
"Men, you know how this goes by know," he spoke loudly. "Tracers are shot, we wait five minutes, then open fire first." He set his LSAT machine gun to the ready, as Allen and the others did the same with their rifles.

Now, the soldier had seen the type of advanced tac gear worn by the junior Lt a few times on spec ops soldiers, but holy shit was L's combat armor something else. Yesterday's surprise had worn off, but still. The futuristic plated outfit looked like it'd stop a Warthog round and Allen had no idea how the Lt managed to move so damn fast in it, especially with the LMG.

"Okay, Steve, at the full minute" the armored officer then called, to which the other officer pointed the pistol ahead, looking at his watch. Some twenty seconds later, he finally fired, the tracers flashing brightly, even in the discolored daylight. Allen turned to glare towards the enemy through his gun's optic, his trigger finger already twitching.

As he threw an impatient glance as his watch, though, the private's head suddenly began throbbing, making him raise his off hand to it, as even his view blurred for a moment. It was brought back by a loud hiss from Bill.
"Oh, fuck," he said, pained.
"What's the matter, soldier," Clarke asked.
"My head just started aching like hell," the Specialist replied to Allen's confusion.
"Here too," Brooks then added, baffling him even more. "Just started hurting. Feels kinda weird."
"We've been under the Sun the whole day. It's- It's hopefully just the heat," came the strict voice of L, "so suck it up. We're up in thirty se-"

He was cut off by a burst of gunfire coming from the north. Alert, the squad looked over, just as even more shots flashed. These few were quickly joined by fire from the other squads' positions, then from the units to their south. The soldiers looked at each other, confused, while the Lieutenant angrily muttered something. Suddenly, Brooks stood up, seemingly to fire, as Allen felt a strange impulse and rose into a crouch himself, the migraine having softened.
"What are you doing," Bill asked, turning to Clarke. "Sarge, what the hell's going on? Do we open fire?"
"I've no damn clue, Johnson," the officer responded. "Sir?"
L hissed something else, before shouting: "Ugh, time's up now anyway. You're free to engage!"

Though he still felt a bit off, the PFC didn't hesitate and opened fire on the enemy, his comrades doing the same. After a few bursts, Jacques and Bill stood up as well, the latter getting onto the hilltop.
"Johnson," the Sergeant shouted, "I know they're far, but at least try to keep your head down!"
"Doesn't look like it's needed, Sarge," the Specialist replied over more shots. "Look at them."

True to his word, the white rows of golems were still standing still, unlike the prior engagements when they'd at least slowly marched towards them. Even the spheres, who'd been real pains yesterday, were just hovering in place, a few of them being hit and going *poof*.

"What is this," Jacques spoke up, reloading in tandem with Allen. "Have they given up?"
"Yeah, Sarge, do we push in," Brooks asked, his usually calmer tone weirdly on edge.
"Hell no, Corporal. We're staying in place," Clarke replied strictly. "For all we knew, this could be a lure to get us close."
"Well, that seems to be working, then," the Specialist shouted, pointing to the hill to their right, where the neighboring squad had started moving towards the enemy, stopping to fire on them. A few moments later, the PFC saw other units heading down as well.

"What the fuck are they doing," the Sergeant mutter beside him, before turning to the COs, who were finally getting up as well. "Lieutenant, we're gonna need some orders. Do we stay up here or go in as well."
The higher officer sighed audibly, saying: "Fine then. Discipline seems to have gone to hell anyway. You've the permission to move up. Get this over with quickly."
"Yes, Sir," Clarke nodded, before facing the rest of the squad again. "You heard them, soldiers. Time to move!"

"Understood, Sarge! Let's go, people," Brooks shouted, crossing the hilltop. Allen shook off the last of the weird headache, before quickly starting down it himself, hearing the others follow. A short distance after, he stopped with the Corporal, as they fired a few bursts on the golems, whose rows had gotten very thin with seemingly all the troops now closing in.

The next couple of minutes were spent similarly, with the squad covering more ground, then firing on the creatures again. Every single golem he sent clattering to the ground encouraged Allen even more. It looked like the things really had given up. After his second reload, they reached where the first row of the things had stood before, just as the ones in the very back finally started to move, backing off.

Their retreat was quickly cut short by more gunfire and a couple of seconds later, all that was left of the golems were piles of their shiny armor. A few cheers sounded from the other squads' direction, to which Allen looked towards Bill, who shrugged.
"Don't see why they're shouting. We've still got some ground to cover," he said. "Don't know why they went in like that either. Plan was pretty clear."
"Well, at least this worked out," the PFC spoke. "They let it for some reason." He kicked at one of the armor pile.
"Yeah, but even then, the others, they fucked up an order," his squadmate replied. "You heard how pissed the Lieutenant was. He's not gonna let that slide."

"Negative, Specialist, I am," Lihve spoke up from behind, prompting both soldiers to look at him.
"What," Allen asked, surprised. "Sorry, Sir, but you really didn't seem like the lenient type."
"Trust me, private, there'd be no point to it, not anymore," the officer stated, shooting a glance at the other Lt. "Just get ready. We're moving up in a couple of minutes. If nothing else gets in our way, we'll reach the town by night." He turned around, heading back towards Clarke and Steve.

Still seeming confused, Bill just shrugged at Allen again, before stepping away as well, leaving the soldier to stare in the direction of the town and distant mountains they still needed to get to.

Wait, mountains?

Actually, now that that'd dawned on him, it made a lot of sense. Even if the golems had taken over the tiny town, it sure as hell couldn't have been their origin. The mountains on the other hand were only a few hours further and it just felt logical for the things to have come from there, which naturally meant they had to be chased all the way back.

Yeah, Allen was now sure the battalion would head there after they'd cleared point E, they had to. He just knew they did if they wanted to find whatever did this, maybe even rescue the actual locals. Damn, he hoped those monsters hadn't killed them and if so, that they weren't doing too awful.

Suddenly, the soldier felt the headache return, then instantly disappear again. A bit worried, he gave his head another shake, before turning back to the squad. Something was off about this, but they had to get a move on.

TIMOTHY

He laid on the floor of this dark, almost freezing cell, no longer even sure how much time had passed.

Timothy Charles had gone through many terrible things in the last few days and his aged limbs still hurt from the rough treatment by the guarding beasts.
However, this pain was nothing compared to what he'd felt the last time he saw his daughter, his Haley, unresponsive at his feet, before he was dragged away for not allowing his lies and sorcery get through to his faith.
Now, while the storekeeper otherwise knew to take the holy book for its metaphors, there was no doubt in his mind that the figure was none other than the Devil himself, no doubt come to spread his evil into the world.

This dark place perfectly reflected that evil. What little he was given to drink or fed clearly wasn't enough. Worse, the meat was entirely raw, tasting and feeling horrible and causing the cell to feel even more oppressive. And Timothy knew it wasn't just to hurt him either, since when he'd been brought, one of the white monsters had also dropped a white mask beside him, the same kind his poor girl had been made to wear, making her lose consciousness on the spot.

Even without being told, he soon realized the Devil wanted him to put it on as well and as what were now certainly days dragged on, it had become more and more agonizing to resist its temptation. As time passed, the small, selfish part of him almost felt envious at Kent and the three soldiers, who'd managed to escape their captors in the caves.

Despite all this, the respectably aged man didn't feel entirely hopeless anymore, for there'd been a sign. What couldn't've been more than an hour ago, when the hunger and thirst had just started becoming unbearable, he'd heard someone running down the corridor outside the bars. Too weak to do much else, he'd just groaned out.
Then, by God's grace, he'd heard the deep voice of the General, Juss, along with a young lady's.

However, upon looking up, Timothy had seen one of the bug monsters beside the dark-clothed officer.
"Sir, one of them is right next to you," he'd said, panicked, pointing at it.
"Don't be afraid, Mister Charles," the other man had replied. "She is with me."
Though surprised, the jailed man had gone on: "I- I see. B- but please, save me from this place already. I- I don't think I can last here for much longer."
"I'm sorry, we're being chased. I cannot let you out," the soldier said with regret, to which Timothy couldn't help but let out a sob, though he understood.

Still, as the girl-voiced creature had moved away from the bars, he pleaded: "But then please, rid me of this temptation." He'd pointed at the mask in the dark beside him. "I'm scared I can't hold back soon."

To his relief, the General had nodded, before crouching and reaching through the bars to pick up the bony white item. The next moment, he'd grabbed onto Timothy's shoulder with his right hand, which began to glow with a dim, golden light, much to the jailed man's surprise.

"This isn't from your god, but it should still help," the soldier had whispered, as Tim had suddenly felt much less tired, the hunger and pain feeling weaker as well. "Still, be strong now, Mister Charles."
"Please, Sir," the storekeeper had muttered back, "if not me, save my daughter from this evil."
The other man had just given another nod. "I wi-"

He'd been cut off by the girl-bug saying something in the creatures' language, to which the officer had hastily slid the mask into his coat and stood back up, before running along with her. Moments later, many of the white, metallic monsters had rushed past the cell, clearly chasing after them. After they'd gone by, the aged man had found himself alone again.

Since then, he had simply laid there and stared at the ceiling, not wanting to waste the strength he'd just been given. However, it was quickly becoming more than apparent that it wasn't very pleasant to his back anymore, so he decided to finally sit up against the wall. It felt easier to think upright like this and Timothy had quite few things he wanted to think about.

First and foremost, he truly wished the army man would be able live up to his plea and rescue Haley from the Light Bringer's grasp, even if it meant leaving him down here. He was old anyway. Still, there was the hope things wouldn't have to come to that, especially with Juss' gift of vigour.
But how had he done that? He'd told Timothy that the power, the glow, hadn't come from his God, but didn't that make it sorcery as well? Should he have rejected it? No. It'd clearly been selfless help and that was always worth praise, no matter who gave it.

The General's strange companion made it seem that not all of these creatures living in this place were on the evil one's side. However, it would definitely take more than might to push him back to the depths, so the aged storekeeper got on his knees and began to pray for them all, hoping his presence wouldn't make it less heard.

At least the cold meant it didn't smell too bad down here.

QUEEN VESPA

Nothing could come close to the true terror she was feeling right now. Not only had the attack she'd helped devise left almost all of the partaking soldiers injured, one poor Hiveling even dead, but it'd also gone oh so horribly wrong. The Pale King hadn't been killed, but had instead become frighteningly more powerful. Worst of all, the pack gone to face the higher being was completely missing, including Hornet, whom the specter truly did view as fondly as her true children.

That damned human and his confidence! Although Vespa understood the General had been just as unaware of the pale tyrant's power, it was nonetheless hard not to feel angered at him for his insistence in having the preparations be so fast, not be patient and waiting for new developments. The White Lady's death, while indeed a tragedy, had only added to the impatience.

And because of it, her surrogate daughter, Max, Juss and even the other human could've easily been killed already, for the few scouts she'd dared send out hadn't discovered anything yet. In short, the plan to give Hallownest a new, impressionable ruler, one that would have additional favor towards her and her kind, was dashed.
Vespa knew that it sounded horribly manipulative, but it really was for the best. Hornet as queen would've definitely given the Hive aid in searching for more of their kind, while also acting as a firm ruler for her own kingdom. But even if a more thought-out plan had failed, the three warriors may have still made it back to defend against the coming onslaught.

Now, there was no doubt the king was going to set his sights on the Hive. It'd taken part in the attempt on his life, after all. Vespa feared, no, knew that her colony wouldn't be able to match the constructs, least of all the Wyrm himself, but was doing her best to keep it from the hive mind. The last thing she wanted was her Hivelings to panic as much as her. Though it seemed there'd soon be nothing else left to do.

All of a sudden, the ghost felt as if her mind was ablaze, as the hive mind became completely silent. Grasping her head, she then heard a chilling voice say: "Queen Vespa, I must say you've disappointed me. I was quite certain our realms were allies."
Although frightened and in pain, Vespa managed a collected, diplomatic tone, replying into the air: "Indeed, they are. The Hive stands by Hallownest and its bugs, but not by you, nor your ideals of conquest."
"Fool! I am Hallownest," the Wyrm boomed, forcing the Hiveling to clutch her head even harder, "and it is the ancient duty of my kind to rule over all. It's all but right to resist it, futile, no less."

"Yes, I'm aware your power has grown unbelievably strong," Vespa admitted, struggling to stay professional. "So why even bother speaking to me? If we have betrayed you so, why not simply have your forces crush us and be done with it? It is clear my Hive can- cannot hope to fend them off."
"Oh, Vespa, you take me for a monster," the Pale King spoke, his voice mocking offence. "The Hive still holds some value to me. And while your actions disappoint, I can see you were misguided by the sympathy you had towards my corrupted daughter and her villainous companions."

The ghostly monarch's eyes widened. "Hornet," she couldn't help but blurt. "How are they? Where?"
"They," the king began, "shall be dealt with. But it'll matter to you not, Hiveling."
Breathing a sigh of relief that Hornet wasn't dead, yet, Vespa asked: "And what is that supposed to mean, Wyrm?"
"It means that you and your little Hive shall serve me as a part of Hallownest," the higher being replied bluntly. "I see it as a fair enough repayment for your attempted deeds against us."
"Us Hivelings simply sought peace," the specter hissed angrily. "You- You're a warmonger."
"Indeed, I am and with right," the Pale King affirmed. "You yourself brought attention to my Kingsmoulds' power and how they would defeat you with ease. Or would you prefer I hasten your kind's demise?"

Desperate, the queen tried to come up with other arguments, but was unable to. Even if slow, a natural death for her daughters would've at least been painless. And even as vassals, the king would hopefully let a few of her scouts outside the cliffs to search.
"Very well then, the Hive shall serve," she agreed weakly, giving an equally sullen nod.
"Excellent," the Wyrm whispered, letting out a dark chuckle. "Most excellent. You are Wise, Vespa. I shall soon be making a proper visit to discuss the terms of this agreement in full."
"Huh," the Hiveling huffed, confused. "Why not do so like this?"
"Because I wish to see for myself how your dear subjects won't even think of setting a claw on me while I walk among them."

"Oh."
Vespa nodded again, still not even knowing if he could see it. However, a question then formed. "But tell me, why have you need for our Hiveblood already," she asked. "It is clear only a small fraction of your army is made of true bugs and I doubt it'd her those lifeless, uh, Kingsmoulds of yours."
"You've really no right to ask me of such things," the Pale King began, "but as overseer of my newest domain, I am willing to let you know that they'll soon be joined by many more. And besides, you shall do much more than supply us."
He let out another chuckle. "But that is for us to speak of later. I have to set my mind to other things now. Farewell, my loyal queen."

His laughter echoed through the monarch's head, before finally fading, along with the pain. A moment later, she could feel the familiar buzzing of the hive mind again and wasted no time in comforting her children, who were all more than agitated at their queen-mother being so suddenly cut off and despite her assurances, quite a few of each caste still made their way to her chamber just to be sure. They cared so much and it hurt to keep their home's new status from them.

Patient, Vespa calmly eased their worries. However, after the last worker had left back to her duties, her motherly smile disappeared and she struck angrily at the wax wall, her fist passing right through it. She knew this was not right and unfair, but there simply wasn't a better way.
Though she loved Hornet and had hoped for the attack to succeed, the Hive came first, even if it meant this. She merely hoped there wouldn't be any other conditions she'd have to meet.

Though knowing her new 'master', it was unlikely. At least her little spiderling could run and hide.

OGRIM

The Dung Defender was sitting on a mound of his hard work, in thought about recent events. It had now been quite a number of days since he'd last met or even seen the silent, tiny knight and a fair amount of outrageous things had happened since. Most surprisingly, the husks and rabid beasts infesting the waterways had one day completely died off, as if the Infection within them had simply vanished. That was, of course, an amazing turn of events and the large beetle was certain his little new friend had something to do with it. His great king's once ill-fated ploy hadn't been that unknown to him, after all.

Then, about a day's time later, the beetle had abruptly been woken up in his dear tiny doma den, when it'd nearly been brought down by loud and strong tremors from below. After bolstering it, he'd swiftly made his way out, as the shaking had continued. Worried that this might've had something to do with the Abyss' Void, he'd hurried to the edge of his territory and looked down the old lift shaft, catching sight of a red-and-white blur flashing by, recognizing it as Hornet, the Deepnest-born warrior. Not soon after, the quakes had stopped.

Despite the clear signs that something was afoot, the Defender had decided to remain in his tunnel for the time being. He was still a knight and couldn't've simply abandoned his duty. The entrance to his Kindly fellow knight had to be protected. So for the following days, he'd ignored the increasing commotion up from the city streets, in wait for someone to seek him out themselves, with no one doing so.

But now that he was thinking about it, the idea of heading into the capital to at least find out who'd taken up residence there did seem bright. He wouldn't be gone for long and the husks were no more, meaning Isma should have been alright. Indeed! He'd visit the city and-
The dung beetle's thought was cut off by a feeling in his mind he hadn't felt for an impossibly long time. And though it was unpleasant, it brought sudden tears of happiness to the knight's eyes, as did the voice he then heard: "Ogrim, my loyal White Defender, I speak with you once more."

"My lord, pale and everlasting. I knew you would return one day," the Defender joyfully greeted into the air. "How can I be of service to you?"
"Foremost, my knight, I wish that you told me how matters have been to you and the rest of my knights," the Pale King spoke, "and why it is that I cannot find any, but you."

The beetle sighed, his delight dampened slightly. "For nearly all the time you haven't been with us, I have stood undeterred here in our capital's waterways," he began proudly, "protecting it from mindless husks of who were once your loyal subjects. Kindly Isma hasn't left her grove from the east of here, but I know not of the others." He hung his head. "With the Infection's long reign, I fear the worst."

While filled with bravado and love for honorable combat, the Dung Defender was no fool. Though he still had dreams of the great battles they had fought in long ago, he'd come to realize the likelihood of never seeing any of them again, not even Isma.
"That is," his king stated, "regrettable. You five together would have made a valuable benefit at a time like this, yet it seems your devotion must suffice."

The great knight's eyes widened. "What for, my king? Is Hallownest at war?"
"Indeed, it is," his sire affirmed. "I've at last come to the decision of allowing the western tribes the privilege of being part of our glorious kingdom, unfortunately against their own archaic wishes."
The Defender nodded. It was a shame their neighbors were so uncivilized that they rejected the king's word for so long and he was glad that was finally changing.

"However," he continued, "my sentries have done well enough that you aren't needed there, but another campaign." Confused, the beetle was about to ask of it, which the monarch must've sensed. "I shall explain about it in my palace, Ogrim, once you've made it back here."
"So it has returned as well," the royal knight stated, eyes even wider. "That is beyond grand, sire, but I fear I cannot do so like this."
"And whyever is that," the king asked, tone justly indignant.
"This passage has been under my honorable guard for a long time, my king," the beetle spoke, "I cannot leave my post so abruptly."

"That ought to be fixed, then," his lord said. "White Defender, I hereby command you leave the waterways behind and return to the White Palace."
Hearing such a firm and just order after so long brought another proud tear to the Defender's eye. "Understood, my lord, I shall be on my way right away," he proclaimed, wiping it away.
"Good, do so with haste. I must still search and Call for others worth my time. Goodbye," his Pale King's voice replied, disappearing alongside the headache.

The Dung Defender stood in place for a couple of moments, letting the shock run its full course, before hastily setting course for the shaft entrance. Before heading through, however, he glanced back at the doma-filled sewer, which'd been his home and entrance to the grove for all these years. He held back any more tears, knowing Isma would've much more preferred his usual attitude. He was going to miss her.
"Farewell," Ogrim spoke, "I'll devote my battles to you as much as I'll do to the king."

He turned around, stepping into the lift tunnel's side and taking a breath of its air. He didn't know why other bugs found his kind's namesake repulsive, but fresh things were also sometimes good. Then, he jumped down, curling into a ball and barreling towards new, glorious battles for his king.

And perhaps even new knightly companions. Hallownest was bound to have a few good warriors left.

ZOTE

Zote the Mighty sat on a bench at the center of the village of Dirtmouth, his trusty and infamous Life Ender leaned beside it. He'd spent the last week or so recovering from his great journeys through the caves below, using them as an opportunity to gain the clear admiration of the townsfolk, more of whom appeared to be arriving lately. Strangely, most of them didn't really show it, probably out of some foreign politeness.

However, there were quite a few who didn't fear showing how highly they thought of him, like his faithful Bretta and the two male pill-bug younglings with strange names, whose parents worked long every day, leaving them for him to look after and teach with his all wise precepts (though he'd decided to skip the eleventh, fifty-second and a few others as well). They, of course, were avid learners, which he rewarded with tales of his adventures in Hallownest and what manner beasts he'd slayed on them.

And of the short, silent warrior. From their first, unpleasant meeting above the green place, the mighty knight had observed their weird doings and as much as he hated to admit it, had grown the slightest bit of admiration for the scentless bug after they had so barely overcome his own strength in the colosseum. Such a feat deserved acknowledgement.

Still, the character had had the annoying habit of getting between him and his prey, before annoyingly killing them. This was apparent now too, as from what Zote had heard and understood, the silent knight had fought and killed this 'Infection', which was apparently what'd kept all the beasts and monsters going, meaning there was almost nothing left for him to hunt, since he didn't want to head back to the colosseum yet. That would've been boring and not enough of a challenge for the likes of him. No, he had to think up something else.

It was a good thing he was so smart.

That was what he was doing on the bench, alone, since the younglings' parents had gotten a free day and Bretta had said she had to finish writing something (At times, Zote had thought about learning to write too, before realizing how useless it was to a great knight). It must've been a very hard topic, though, as even a wise bug like him was having trouble coming up where to adventure in.

It didn't help that he simply couldn't help shooting the nearby guards a dirty look every once in a while. Zote didn't understand how they dared act with him this way. Ever since they'd come up from the now monster-free caves and begun running things, the armored bugs had only talked down to him, even calling him short on a few occasions. Jealous, insolent curs! They were lucky he felt so merciful right now.

Still, the knight came back to the issue of finding more lowly things to slay. Though, did he really need to anymore? He'd already found some glory in that arena, even bringing back a helmet as proof of his greatness. He even had an audience to speak wisdoms to. Perhaps it was better to stay up here where it was safe and-
Stop! This was not how a might warrior like him thought. There had to be a way for him. Maybe if he looked really, really, really hard-

Zote's thoughts were stopped by a pain in his mind, which almost made him jolt off the bench. Angered, he snatched Life Ender and stood up on it, growling: "Who dares attack Zote the Mighty's great mind? Show yourself, invisible cur!"
"Ease yourself, Zote, and reconsider who you are speaking to," a strange voice boomed in his head.
"Who are you, then," the renowned knight asked, before accusing: "Are you the evil force putting thoughts of settling down in me?"
"I am not evil, but it's exact opposite," this speaker continued. "I am the Pale King of the reborn Hallownest and the sole one responsible for your thoughts is yourself. However, there is yet much potential greatness in you."

"Potential?" Zote felt insulted. "I am already among the greatest warriors in the whole world."
"Perhaps," this 'king' spoke, "But you compare not to the knights of old. That, I can change."
"But my shell is already near indestructible," the knight boasted sensibly, "my strength strongest."
"Even if so, good things can always be made even better," the voice promised, "that is, on the condition that you serve me and Hallownest."
"And why should I want do that," the mighty bug asked, still skeptical.
"It rewards glory like no other position," he was told, "and a chance to earn more in great battles for our kingdom. You are already my subject and a proud bug of Hallownest regardless. Why not use this greatness you boast of to fight for it?"

This took the knight aback, but in a good, inviting way. For a moment, he remembered a nestmate once telling not to trust voices in his head, but precept four quickly helped with that.
"Then I will fight for you as the greatest of knights," Zote said, determined. "What must I do first?"
"Seek out my White Palace in the depths of the Ancient Basin," the Pale King said, "and do so with haste. I may even have a stag lent to you, if you so wish."
"That won't be necessary. I am faster than any beast of burden," the bug affirmed.
"Then come, Goodbye for now, mighty Zote," this new master called, the voice and hurt both dwindling away.

The knight got off the bench and immediately began heading for the well-stairs, ignoring the guards' rude snickering, as per precept two. They'd be sorry soon enough. Still, with agreeing to serve the king, he had broken a few others. Bah! A few of them were getting old anyway and something that gave glory couldn't be bad, even if it meant disobeying a few of his own teachings.

Zote sheathed his Life Ender and began heading down the spiraling steps. Whoever thought of standing against this kingdom would get absolutely no chance, nor mercy.

For he was Zote the Mighty!

Heyo! Did you miss me? Admit it, you missed me.

Sadly, this won't be a return to our scheduled programming yet and the next real chapters will take some more time.

Still, I hope you liked this interlude, considering it was a bit more plot-heavy than the last, setting up more things to come. As per the title, almost everyone had a drink of pale kool-aid here, except for Tim, of course (I hope I wrote him believably enough, though Zote was the hardest)

Happy late New Year and adios for now. R&R