"Father, you shouldn't be here! This is a *quarantine*. What if you get sick?"
"Quiet, quiet! My business here is important, and look, I'm *protected*! I will be fine!" I pointed at the leather mask that covered the lower half of my face.
It was hard to breathe in this thing. Unlike regular cloth masks, this one *actually* blocked the airflow.
Did it block any contaminants?
All healthy bees working in the quarantine village had to wear those masks—like the Researcher Bee in front of me. But nobody was *truly* protected from the Paleness in the Bee Empire, anyway. The masks were a placebo.
The Researcher Bee, Writingdown, had noticed me flying in, and immediately tried to stop me; unlike the Warrior Bees guarding the place, who just watched this going on with mild puzzlement.
Now, Writingdown frowned.
"Father, what is this important business? Do you have knowledge you didn't share with Researchers yet? Knowledge that makes your presence here useful? Or is this…" she gestured at her head, "the irrationality illness?"
I crossed my arms and puffed my cheeks.
"Don't shame your Father, Writingdown! I came to cheer my daughters up! I know the bees in the village do their best to keep them comfortable, but surely they will be glad to see their father. Remember what I told you? Mental state of sick people actually affects their health. If you are in high spirits, your body fights off illnesses better."
"Oh. Well, you should've said so earlier, Father! I'm sure the bees will be happy to see you."
Although Writingdown wasn't frowning at me anymore, her earlier point still stung.
She wasn't *wrong* that I was acting… Well, just a *bit* irrational, alright?
All my Advisers knew their business.
Even though the Bee Empire's population was slowly but steadily declining, its life continued. Food was still gathered, items were still crafted, and Ambrosia was still laying eggs (like, *right now*).
According to the system, in this time the population declined by 5 thousand bees, but it wasn't felt in Hive Supremo or Hive Hornet's Nest. From reports, almost all deaths happened in the newly subjugated hives.
Although it was my original plan to gradually replace their bees with my granddaughters, if these primitive bees died out all at once…
Will the Bee Empire have resources to support my princesses before their daughters grow up? It took a lot of working hands to care for and feed all the little larvae!
With all that, and after the report that an older bee got sick in Hive Supremo, while there was no meaningful progress against Paleness, I just…
I just had to do *something* to not feel like the most useless piece of shit in existence. And I've already done all I could to keep the Bee Empire stable, so here I was.
"I was just about to go inside, Father," Writingdown said, sighing. "My break was getting too long… But I can show you the way to the sick bees while on the way."
I noticed how tired Writingdown looked at this moment. Not sick—her health was full—but clearly, the situation was stressing my daughters as much as me.
"Hey… Don't overwork yourself, girl. The last thing I want is for any more people to get sick with exhaustion."
Writingdown blushed a little and looked away.
"Thinking is barely a work. And I love thinking—it's very entertaining. But I wish my sisters were healthy, and… they aren't. Anyway, we are wasting time standing here."
She walked through the narrow door leading into the village. Doors were a recent invention, part of the entire "horizontal architecture" thing—just hanging leather curtains.
Structurally, it was built like some underground mall: there were corridors between separate buildings, but the entire place shared a single roof. It was spacious enough that each quarantined bee could sleep in her own room, and new rooms were added every day.
The ceiling was too low to fly, but unlike a usual beehive, the quarantine village had several windows to let in fresh air and light. The bees covered them for the night, but right now they cut the wood and wax hallways with sunbeams.
Bees walked around cleaning, repairing the walls, carrying things. Thankfully, besides Writingdown, nobody tried to convince me it was too dangerous to be here.
Researcher Bees were sometimes too smart! Smart enough to chide their own father!
I and Writingdown walked to a large hall filled with two dozen sick bees.
'They are all so young…'
Their faces were pale, and their bodies looked malnourished, although they were well-fed. The healthiest of them had three quarters of their health, and they weren't gaining more.
They were entertaining themselves by chatting and playing some music on a simple leather drum—a recent invention. But the lack of energy was palpable in the room: even with the drum, it was ten times quieter than the average background noise of Hive Supremo.
A few eyes rose toward me, but there was little emotion in them. These bees barely knew their father…
"The Researchers are using another room for tests. They are examining the last patient. The Forager Bee who got sick, B20-20," Writingdown said. "I will go back there—it's my job to write down the results."
"After you are done, bring her here. I want to talk with her, too."
Writingdown walked out, leaving me alone with the sick bees.
The atmosphere was decisively awkward. I felt unneeded here—so I steeled myself and marched on.
"Hello, everybody!" I waved to all the bees who turned to me. "I'm unsure if all of you know or remember, but I'm your father. Father Nectus! And I'm not just some Drone, I'm very wise, very smart, very strong, and love you very much."
The young bee with the drum stopped drumming and pointed at me.
"We've heard about you. Everybody talks about you, Father. I was told that you even came up with this drum." She slapped its leather top.
"I just gave the Researcher Bees an idea—they made the prototype."
"Did you come to heal us?" another bee asked. "We just want to be useful… You spend so much food on us. Is this because we will be healed and useful soon?"