Chapter 35 – Find The Underlying Issue

Fang was very nervous.

He sat in a bunk, legs shivering.

“We sure this smart? Maybe master mad?”

“Pfft. Why Master care?” sneered Boney. “He likes strength. We strong. So we get camp.” Grunts of agreement joined him.

Twenty-four wrath imps. Twenty-five bunks. The math didn’t leave much left.

“No sleep outside. Not for us,” he continued.

At Boney’s orders, the warriors had taken it upon themselves to claim the entire camp building. All of them seemed very satisfied with the arrangement. Except one.

“This… Seem risky. Brood be mad,” tried Fang.

“Brood weak,” scoffed one warrior.

“Yeah. Gather wood,” added another.

“And rocks.”

Fang shook his head in disagreement. He tried to get his comrades to understand. “Not weak,” he said meekly.

Boney snorted. “Since when? Do they train? Swing sword? Swing spear? Fight? No. They weak.”

This wasn’t good. Fang knew it. But his fellow warriors wouldn’t listen. He scooted back, inching against the wall. Maybe no one would notice him if he stayed far enough away from the door. That’s what he hoped, at least.

***

Shiny had a great day. Work went good, and the brood was growing. Everything was going great. He was just considering what to tell Master, when Bean came running up.

“Bean? Why not farm?”

“Shiny! Problem! It bad!”

“Hmm? With farm?”

“No! Warriors in camp.”

Shiny shrugged. “It bit early. But that okay. Maybe they tired. We work hard.”

Bean shook his little head violently. “Noo! They took camp. All! No bunks left.”

Shiny’s orange eyes darkened.

***

Vorathrex lounged against the wall, enjoying the warmth of the stone. The black foundation soaked up heat throughout the afternoon. By evening, it made for a lovely end to his strenuous day. Taut muscles relaxed, weary bones eased, and his mind settled.

“Ahhhh. I must make sure that little fledgling doesn’t get rid of this spot. It’s quite nice.” As comfortable and satisfied as he was, the big demon could hardly stop his eyelids from closing. They were getting ever so heavy…

“Brood! With me!” came an irate shout.

“What?!” he spluttered. Shaking his head, Vorathrex sat up.

Through the gate marched a column of fifteen brood imps. The runt was at their head, the rest behind. Little red legs strode with purpose.

“We not stand for this! We brood! And the brood strong!” called Shiny.

“Strong!”

“EAT!”

“FOOD!”

“Brood! Brood! Brood! Brood!” A chant began, getting louder and louder.

Vorathrex was dumbfounded. “What are they doing?” he muttered, still half asleep.

He blinked several times, his fuzzy gaze trailing the mob as it pressed through the city right to… the camp. Wasn’t the camp full? How were they all going to fit?

Honestly, he didn’t really care. The big demon just wanted quiet. And the little gremlins were only getting louder.

***

Fang heard the shouts first. He raised his head, looking at the door. “Boney… Hear that?”

“Hear what?” The soldier had his legs propped up on his bed, arms behind his neck.

“They coming.”

“Who?”

“The brood.”

“Huh?” The stocky warrior sighed, opening his eyes. “What wrong? You act weird. Why scared—”

He cut off, head reeling as a thrown rock pummeled him straight in the jaw.

***

Kairon woke up to a massive dip in fervor. Around him, glowing pieces of demonic parchment lay in three organized piles.

The stacks, however, were forgotten when he read the top of his readout. The remnants of drowsiness were washed away. He read it again. And then a third time.

How did fervor plummet so low?!

He knew that the population boom would be tight, but he had been careful to ensure they didn’t go over capacity. Kairon double-checked his figures.

Precisely as I expected. Our population is still under budget.

For it to drop that fast, something catastrophic must have occurred. The question was what.

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach.

***

“It’s too early for this, child. You figure this out. I’m returning to my slumber.”

Sythara took one look outside the tower, decided that was more than enough, and retreated back inside.

Kairon didn’t reply. He just stood, claws gripped iron tight around his staff, taking in the scene before him.

Every imp in the city was currently sprawled around the camp. Not in the camp. Outside it. And, unless his eyes deceived him, most of them sported gashes, bruises, or wounds of some type. Nearly forty imps, all in various states of disarray.

Most were asleep, some were groggily sitting up, and a few were glaring. When he followed their gaze, he saw why. The camp was… not a camp. It had been destroyed. The door was ripped clean off the side, fist-sized holes marred the walls, and nearly a quarter of the roof was caved in.