Chapter 173: Bee-vine Favor

Chapter 173: Bee-vine Favor

Belissar watched with a smile as Paisijik handed out her honeycomb and then offered the remaining half of the tray to the God of Bees. He was only slightly surprised this time when the Shrine lit up. What work would the God of Bees approve of more than beekeeping, after all?

A challenger has been fully blessed.

Gained 20 DP.

A challenger has selected a blessing unique to your patron.

Gained additional 10 DP.

His smile grew, for he had a feeling he knew what sort of blessing Paisijik had selected.

Only then, did he see the words that caused his jaw to drop.

Mission: Teach the karnuq the art of beekeeping completed!

Reward: One flask of ambrosia

Belissar gaped at the message for a while. He jumped when Niobee landed on him to ensure he could feel her dance.

“King ok?”

Belissar gulped.

“I...I don’t know. If...this is what I think it is...then...”

He stumbled over to the chest and gently lifted the lid with trembling hands. There, sitting innocuously at the bottom, was a simple, unadorned wooden flask, sealed by beeswax and propolis. Belissar slowly reach down for it, flinching back just before touching it.

Even as a Tower Keeper blessed by two gods, even though he knew much of the doctrine on the gods he was raised with was wrong, still he hesitated to touch the flask. How could he not? In the tales Mrs. Imkomos told him, those of ancient heroes and great deeds from a time before the hunger or even the kings of old, ambrosia was nothing less than the ultimate treasure. The food of the gods themselves, said to heal any ailment or injury. Said to grant long, or even eternal, life to the mortals lucky enough to taste it. Rumor among the peasantry had it that the Tower Lords were gifted with ambrosia and that this was the reason for their long life, though as many others claimed such a thing did not and could not exist.

This...this was something even Mrs. Imkomos wasn’t certain actually existed. Only that, whether as metaphor or reality, ambrosia represented one of the most precious gifts a god could offer to a mortal who had found their favor.

But, in the end, they were all still just roses with small flowers. None of them could stop a shade. None of them could fulfill her desire to defend the hive of hives alongside her queen.

So, she had branched out. She had tried pollen from every flower she could get her legs on. From mundane and medicinal flowers from the most exotic flowers in the furthest corners of the King’s Realm, ones she had to ask the gardeners of the other hives to help her gather. Medicinal herbs just made the thorns thinner and weaker. Seeds pollinated by cloudberries and underworld phlox just failed to germinate at all, their mana informing her that the Flower Meadow simply wasn’t suitable.

Still, none of them had worked. By the time she approached the gardeners of the Apiary for assistance, she had grown desperate. It seemed that this idea, too, would be a failure. That there would truly be no way for her to contribute anything of note to the hive of hives’ defenses. That there would be no way for her to participate in her queen’s grand mission.

So, she had done something she wasn’t supposed to. The other gardeners had directed her to the most exotic flowers in the Apiary: the slime flower with its viscous sap. She had to recruit the assistance of a slime worker from the First of the Fifth to even approach this one, unable to locate any pollen that she could recognize. The worker had gathered a glob of slime a bit more solid than the rest that she insisted was some kind of pollen. The gardener had had her doubts but who was she to refuse at this point?

So, against her better judgement, she had jabbed her legs into the gooey mass and flown it back through the King’s Realm, until she arrived back at her roses. Then, she had flown over a scattered mess of multi-colored dust, her attempt to make a pollen bag out of every different kind of pollen she could gather. It hadn’t worked, the pollen from different sources refused to stick together and the whole thing fell apart at the slightest breeze. Her instincts had even warned her that this was a bad idea, that it would turn out poorly even if she could get all the pollen together.

She hadn’t cared, so she went and smashed the gooey mass over the pollen, turning the whole thing into a slimy, grungy mess as the different colors blended together within the slime. Then she had stuffed the whole thing into the nearest mana rose and flown off to sleep.

In something of a surprise, that flower had actually produced a seed. She had planted the seed and stuffed it with as much mana as she could make. That had been the last idea she had, so she wished with all that she was that something would result. That the Queen of All Bees would guide her to a way to defend the hive of hives.

Today, she would check on that seed. Her wings slowed as she grew closer to the bush. Every instinct she had as a gardener told her that mixing the pollens like that, especially with the slimy one, should have ended badly. If the seed failed the germinate, then...well, she didn’t know what she’d do then. Maybe go volunteer to serve the hive of the fallen, the hive made of only bees that had truly fought to defend the hive of hives. If they would take a failure such as herself...

She had to force herself to fly past the other roses so she could see the spot she had planted the seed. Her wings buzzed and she nearly dropped to the ground. The seed had, at least, managed to sprout and germinate.

Which meant that now was the next moment of truth. She couldn’t even force herself to fly again, this time crawling across the ground until she stood before the little shoot. It was a tiny thing, smaller than her with naught but two little leaves on top of its miniature stem. She stopped moving her abdomen to draw in air as she gingerly extended her mana towards the plant, intending to find out what exactly it was...

And then, the shoot twitched.

She felt its mana slam into her own, and nearly stepped back from shock. A gardener’s mana could connect with that of a plant, feeding her information on its current state. But never before had a plant moved its own mana towards hers. Not with the mana flowers, or even the slimy flower. The mana of plants normally barely reacted to her presence.

This plant was all but stuffing its mana into hers. It was not letting her analyze its condition. It was telling her what it felt. It was thirsty, and it wanted more water. And its reaction was not limited to mana. Its stem bent as far as the tiny stem could, its two little leaves waving vaguely in her direction.

And as her mind shook at these revelations, her own mana returned with its own report, telling her the general characteristics of the plant along with its current state. As she processed the information, her wings began to buzz.

This one...might not be a failure after all. Which meant that...maybe, just maybe, neither was she.