“I’ll see you later, darling,” Peter called.
“Enjoy your walk, dearest,” his wife replied, amused.
He’d managed to get through his work in record time today. The tomatoes were ripening, so he’d made sure to give them the attention they deserved, but he couldn’t remember a time he’d worked with such purpose and efficiency.
He’d even got a Level out of it. He now had access to [Master Plant Tending (IV)]. His crops would be more vibrant than ever.
“Pete, nice to see you,” a voice called as he reached the road.
The farmer turned.
“Herrick, good to see you. Finished early today?”
The other man laughed.
“Oh you know, just wanting to get a breath of this fresh air,” Herrick winked.
The two joked back and forth along the road and soon were joined by others making their way out of the fields.
“Tomas, how’s the potatoes this year?”
“They’re bleedin’ potatoes. They’re always fine.”
“Andis! How’s the wife?”
“She’s well, Pete.”
Soon enough, there were a dozen dusty-looking farmers walking down the road to Renewal. Certainly an unusual sight, not just at this time of year, but at any time. These gentlemen rarely left their farms, at all, let alone early.
They joked back and forth as they walked briskly along the road. Soon enough, they approached the anthill and the group turned and stepped off the road as a unit. With unerring precision, the men found themselves walking toward the pit where the ants had been so diligently working through their exercise for the past several days.
Shortly, they arrived and began to settle in. Andis opened the bag he had packed and handed out cups and beer, Tomas reached into his jacket to reveal a rolled parcel that contained cured meat. Each of the farmers had brought something and they stood together in a loose group, eating and drinking as they turned their eyes to the pit.
“Who’s in today? Anyone recognise the groups?”
“The left group is the Pink Blitz. You can tell because the soldier has that distinctive colour on her carapace. Some sort of healing mutation, I think.”
“The Pink Blitz?”
“I’m not good with names.”
“Alright. What about the other team?”
“The Burrowers. If you check the mandibles, you can see they have that scoop shape for dirt moving. I call this team the Burrowers.”
“Right. Who’s got the formsheet?”
“I’m on it,” Pete said. He already had pen and paper in hand as he scratched out a new line:
Pink Blitz v Burrowers (o)
It was important to indicate which team was the offence. Sometimes, the ants would swap between the two sides, but more often, one team would work on their attack while the other focused on defence.
“What are your thoughts, chaps? Anyone willing to make a prediction?”
The two ant teams were between rounds right now, tapping and slapping at each other as they discussed whatever it was that they talked about.
Andis rubbed a hand across his grizzled chin.
“The Burrowers are a great defensive team,” he pronounced. “I saw them yesterday against the Boulders and they didn’t give an inch. They can shift dirt like nobody’s business and cause all sorts of problems. On the offence, though? I’m not sure their strengths will be as effective.”
“Could be an interesting matchup then,” Tomas chipped in. “The Blitz are a quick, attacking team. They’ve got speed and skill and they hate standing still.”
“Looks like they’re ready to go,” Peter noted. “Predictions in now, or they don’t count.”
The men went around, one by one, and gave their predicted score for the next ten rounds. Naturally, they didn’t always get ten rounds from the two groups competing when they turned up, but it was the maximum number they could stay for.
When the match itself started, the atmosphere around the men changed. No longer as jovial or joking, an intense air of focus had descended as they watched the action unfold.
The earlier assessments proved to be correct. The Burrowers, as the offensive team, had to bring the rock from one side of the pit to the other in order to succeed in the exercise, while the Pink Blitz were tasked with preventing them. A solid defensive team, the Burrowers were less comfortable on the attack and it showed.
The moment the match started, the Blitz rocketed forward, legs ablur as they rushed to the opponent. For their part, the Burrowers seemed to have predicted the move. Rather than compete on speed, they pulled into a tight formation and began to build a fort-like structure, the rock-carrier well protected in the centre.
The Blitz ranged around the outside of this brick, picking and poking, looking for weaknesses or trying to bait out a mistake, but the Burrowers held their ground and began to grind forward, the earth itself shifting forward along with them.
“Moving castle strategy,” Peter grunted, “not bad.”
The rest of the men nodded and grunted in reply as they continued to observe the action.
The Blitz were relentless, harrying the sides of the formation, rushing forward in pairs, or threes, as their mages tried to wrench gaps in the walls of the castle. The Burrowers managed to hold firm, though it wasn’t easy. Several times, they nearly allowed an ant to break through their lines, but they held on.
That is, until halfway across the pit.
No longer willing to allow the Burrowers to advance at their own pace, the Blitz decided to contest them head on.
Two huge soldiers lowered their heads and charged, causing each of the farmers to lean forward, eyes widening.
BOOM!
The front lines clashed head-on with a thunderous meeting of chitin and stone.
“Hooooo!” the farmers roared.
The soldiers from the Blitz side dug in their legs and pushed, mandibles gnawing as they tried to break through. On the other side of the moving wall, the Burrower soldiers held firm, their bulk reinforcing the wall.
Desperate to back up their offensive, the rest of the Blitz rushed to support their soldiers. A full head-on assault against the Burrower castle ensued, ants on ants as the earth churned and both sides sought the advantage.
Just when it seemed like neither side had the advantage, a lone scout lunged from the Burrower castle, rock held firm in her mandibles as she dashed for the end of the pit.
The farmers leapt forward, hollering wildly as the Blitz tried to respond in time. Only one managed to disengage quickly enough, rushing back at absurd speeds. She lunged, mandibles wide, hoping to catch the rock-carrier before the line!
But she didn’t make it! Despite being grabbed, the Burrower managed to touch the edge of the pit with the rock, if only by the barest of margins.
The farmers went wild, applauding and cheering the bold and audacious play from the daring scout, and the heroic chase down that so nearly succeeded.
The ants merely looked up at them, curious for a moment, before they returned to their groups and climbed out of the pit for another waggling-conversation.
Peter marked the result on the sheet carefully before turning to the others.
“Thoughts on the match?”
