It was a cold and blustery day. The sun was glistening over the stones scattered among the evergreen trees. Among those stones were various geodes and large crystals, primarily amythest, that had fallen off carts heading between the not-too-distant village and the nearby mining operation. Many of these fallen geodes had been broken open by the hooves of deer that grazed the area, for they too appreciated the beutiful gemstones that the village had built a prosperous ecomomy around.

A small bee wearing a tattered purple silk robe crawled out from under a broken cart. They grabbed an apple and a trowel from a sturdy old workbench, and put on their boots before heading out to forage again. The bee had taken up the habit of going out and gathering various plants: some food, some they simply found pretty. They would then plant roughly half of what they harvested next to where they found it. This strategy allowed the small bee to consistently find food nearby without having to venture off further than comfortable, and the forest would grow more bountiful and colourful each harvest. The local fauna also appreciated the fruits of this strategy, and the miners who passed through the forest on their commute had very rich diets. Sometimes, the miners would toss a geode or two to the side to make room for a basket of berries to take home.

There had been an oil-lantern sparked forest fire up north a few weeks prior. Thankfully it was raining at the time, so the fire didn't spread too far. During it's rampage, the fire managed to eat a town's worth of wood, and displaced a townful of woodland critters. The charred field still reeked of smoke. It wasn't smoking anymore, but it was still pungent enough to deter most visitors, and it had a seddative effect on bees.

The small bee had planted seeds from the apple they ate in the sooty soil, mixing up the dirt and char before burrying the seeds, as they heard this helps some plants. Dazed by the smoke, the bee sat on a surprisingly ergonomic rock nearby to sober up before heading back. One of the miners stopped by and greeted the bee before they could register the large human's presence. The bee dusted themself off and greeted the miner. The miner wondered what a bee would be doing in such a dreary part of the woods. As the miner sat down on one of the rocks, the bee drew in the soil with a stick as they explained the strategy. The miner loved the idea, but was still curious: why would a bee wander so far from their hive?

The small bee took off their purple silk robe to use as a bag to carry some metal scraps that once been part of a cart that had been stripped of it's wood in the fire. The miner was surprised to see such a small bee had the markings of a queen bee. There can only be one queen bee in a hive, and as the small bee explained, the old queen had recently been overthrown by a younger, but much larger queen with a plan to rework the plumbing in the hive. The small queen learned from a slideshow how hives determine their queens when multiple are born. If inventory management reported another queen candidate had been born, the large queen would have easily killed them to secure her ruling position. So the small queen snuck out, stealing a bath robe from the royal sauna and left before anyone spotted them. 

The small bee had finally sobered up, and was ready to head home, so the two exhanged goodbyes. Once the miner got back to the village, he would explain the strategy to the farmers. The farmers resented the miners. The miners had turned the beet and wheat town into an amythest town. The children liked the idea, and they would plant part of what they scavanged near where they had found it, which yeilded plenty more each day than with previous methods. Acknowledging this, the adults would evenually join in.

As the villagers expanded, creating bridges and other amenities to make foraging more pleasant, the small bee had been given a cottage with purple grape vines growing along it's walls. The village had become more financially independent. Word of this reached the King and Queen, who ruled over the village from a castle carved into the side of a not-so-nearby mountain. The two were confused by the accountant's reports, so they set out on horse carriage to investigate what seemed like it was some new form of financial fraud. 

As the King and Queen treked down from the mountain to the village center, they noticed a glorious assortment of greenery that hadn't been there on their last visit; so green as to seem uncharacteristic for the area. This village had put their caste's garden to shame on a fraction of the budget. The two royal visitors asked how the village had grown so lush. The farmers said it was the small bee who helped them. The King and Queen, not yet adjusted to the drop in elevation, huddled together, whispering:

King: "Well, now what? What power do we hold over them if they already have everything they need here?"
Queen: "Violence?"
King: "We're not barbarians."
Queen: "I don't remember what those are."
King: "Big dudes with hammers that yell a lot and smell like urine."
Queen: "Those guys. Yeah, that *is* what they would do, isn't it? Well I don't know either."

The two looked over at the small bee.

Queen: "What is a queen bee doing here? There isn't a hive for miles according to the map."
King: "She isn't very pregnant either, how odd."
Queen: "How would you know?"
King: "We have 7 children."
Queen: "Seven already?"
King: "Look at your belly. Seven."
Queen: "Seven already."

The small bee explained they had fled their hive for fear of losing a battle to a larger queen bee, one more educated in civil engineering.

"Oh, so the small one's not in charge of a hive then?" the King said as he went to the horse carriage and grabbed a generously large nugget of gold, which he handed to his wife. He then took out a basket of welding goggles and handed them to anyone who wanted to watch.

"Stand Back!" shouted the Queen.

The Queen held the golden nugget between her palms, and smacked her hands together with a thunderous clap. Sparks of molten gold leaked from between her fingers as she turned red. She opened her hands to reveal a small glowing molten crown. The King and Queen spat on the crown, sprinkled some wheat flour on it, placed an amethyst crystal in the center, and dipped it into a barrel of beet juice to cool it off. The crown was the perfect size for the small bee's head; with some wiggle room.

The Queen spoke unto the small bee: "Here's the crown you deserve. You clearly knew what the village needed and provided. You forged a once vacant plot into one that can independently support life. Please, accept the title of queen you had been robbed of and rule this village."
The crown was placed on the small queen bee's head, and the ceremony was complete. The mountainbound royals, carrying with them a contaminated barrel of beet juice, left the village and the small queen bee, now appointed queen of the village.