Thanks to Cabbage’s actions during the Plundervine incident, the Changelings began to see an immediate and significant improvement in their fortune over the next several weeks…
Princess Celestia blinked wearily, trying to chase off the tired ache of her eyes without rubbing them with a hoof and spoiling the dignity of a monarch holding court. If Blueblood keeps prattling much longer though, Celestia thought, he’s going to elicit a well-deserved yawn. She shooed the intrusive thought off and tried to focus on her erstwhile nephew’s speech, only to realize he’d run out of steam at last.
As tired and distracted as Celestia was from a full night struggling to escape the plundervines that had held her captive, she had managed to follow the main points of Blueblood’s complaints and the reason this private court session was happening in the first place. She turned her head to Queen Cabbage Patch, who stood opposite Blueblood before the throne and was accompanied by two Changelings that had been introduced to the Princess as Imago and Kumquat. While those two Changelings were in their natural forms, Cabbage had taken her usual appearance of a sea-green earth pony of above-average height.
“Queen Patch,” Celestia said, “I would hear your rebuttal to the prince’s accusations.”
Cabbage gave Blueblood a scathing look before answering. “Did I forcibly drag him here?” she asked rhetorically. “Yes. But as your own Guard will attest, Princess, as soon as I was sure my petition to see you was on record and the Guard would keep Blueblood from slinking away, I let him go. As to the complaints that his fur is ruined from the goo: the stain will wash out, and you can always shave your fetlocks if the green bothers you that much.” Blueblood tensed up and opened his mouth to sputter a retort, but a look from Celestia silenced him. “All his complaints,” Cabbage continued, “are minor issues at best, brought up to try and distract from the reason we’re here: my complaint against him, Your Highness.”
Celestia nodded. “Right,” she said, “the matter of obstructing the transfer of land rights of those old mines to the Changeling Hive.” She sighed and glanced down at a small stack of papers to on the arm of her throne. “Luna has been following the proceedings of the sub-council on land rights these last few weeks,” she said at last, “and if those if cursed plants of Discord’s hadn’t chosen last night to suddenly wake up, she’d probably be preparing to attend the next meeting. As it is…” She levitated the papers and sent them toward Cabbage. “This is the deed Prince Blueblood has been claiming to possess,” she said. “Or, rather, the most recent copy of it, dating back three hundred years. It granted ownership of the crystal mines to the main line of descent from Princess Platinum – Blueblood’s family. However,” she raised an eyebrow at Blueblood, “that ownership was only valid so long as the mines were being worked, and fifty years ago, Blueblood’s grandmother decided the mines had been played out and ceased operations. Thus, the mines, and the deed, reverted to Crown control.”
Cabbage’s eyes widened slightly, and then arrowed as she glared at Blueblood. “You knew your claim wasn’t actually legal from the start, didn’t you?” she accused.
“I am trying to protect this city!” Blueblood exclaimed, giving Celestia an imploring look. “Princess, you can’t seriously trust these Changelings to build a new hive right under our hooves! Who knows what they could do to us!”
“There are better ways to make your concerns known than perjuring yourself before the city government,” Celestia said sharply. “Prince Blueblood, you are hereby placed on house arrest until I’ve caught up on my sleep and can give proper thought to your punishment.” She then turned a gentle smile onto Cabbage and said, “On behalf of Princess Luna, I am extending the Changeling Hive’s parole to include the management and development of the crystal mines.”
Cabbage fought down a gleeful squeal and bowed deeply, mentally nudging Imago and Kumquat to follow suit. “Thank you, Princess Celestia,” Cabbage said. “Thank you.”
A team of six ponies wearing hard hats, orange safety vests, and protective shoes and hauling several carts full of tools and materials approached the Shifting Perspectives Theater. The forepony of the group, a brawny orange earth pony, looked around at the Changelings swarming around the dorm annex, removing the dessicated remains of plundervines that were wedged into cracks where windows used to be. The forepony then caught sight of Trixie, who was piling up the vines that been removed, and approached her. “Excuse me, ma’am,” the forepony said, “are you in charge around here?”
Trixie raised an eyebrow at the earth pony. “Well,” she said, “no Changeling’s stepped up as ‘in charge’ so far as I know, so I guess I could be. What can I do for you, gentlecolts?”
“We’re part of the disaster recovery effort,” the forepony said. “We’re here to repair any damage this building sustained.”
“Oh really,” Trixie said, surprised. “One second then.” She turned toward the annex and conjured up a whistle to blow to get the attention of the Changelings. “Some help has arrived,” Trixie announced, indicating the repair crew.
The Changelings were silent for a moment, apparently digesting the news, and then cheered as a couple trotted over to welcome the ponies and get them up to speed. The repair crew quickly got to work, and Trixie noted that none of them seemed to flinch at being in close proximity to the Changelings.
“I have to admit I’m surprised,” Trixie told the forepony. “I never expected the official repair efforts to get to the theater so quickly. If at all.”
The forepony gave Trixie a smile. “Everypony in this crew either saw these Changelings help fight off the vines or were personally rescued by one. We banded together and agreed that repaying that effort is our top priority.”
“I see,” Trixie said. She started gathering vines again, but after a minute a thought occurred to her and she tracked down the forepony again. “By any chance,” she asked, “does anypony in your crew know somepony looking to get into show business?”
The day after the plundervine attack, Cabbage called for a meeting of the entire Shifting Perspectives Theater staff, which meant all the Changelings, Trixie, Harlequin, and Maggie Pie. Cabbage stood on the stage while everyone else sat in the first two rows of the audience. As Cabbage surveyed her small court, she flashed back the times she had stood before even smaller crowds and froze up from anxiety. She found the lack of such stage fright in the present to be… a jarring absence. How ridiculous, she thought, rolling her eyes, that I’m actually missing an unwelcome sensation.
Our support and adoration repels it, Queen Patch, a Changeling replied to the thought.
The Queen’s social anxiety is inversely proportional to the number of Changelings near her, another quipped, earning some mental groans from the Hive.
“Alright, settle down,” Cabbage said aloud. “I’m very pleased with everyling for how we composed ourselves during the crisis yesterday. We brought in more emotional energy than in any other day since I became Queen, as I’m sure you’re aware. More importantly, though, it seems we’ve established a great deal of goodwill from the general populace, more than I expected. There’s no telling how long the goodwill will last, since ponies are fickle and easily swayed.”
“Oi!” Harlequin protested.
“Speaking in a general sense, I mean” Cabbage said. “Individual ponies can be stalwart, but as a species they have a herd mentality that can be easily swayed by rumors and passionate speech. Canterlot’s herd mentality is in our favor right now, so we must squeeze as much use out of it as possible and keep the public opinion in our favor.
“Thanks to Princess Celestia, the crystal mines in the mountain are officially ours, so we can focus our efforts on The Changeling of the Opera and the rest of our upcoming theater season. We still need to hire a stage crew, and having some ponies in the cast wouldn’t hurt either.”
“The Great and Proactive Trixie has already started working on that,” Trixie said, reclining in her seat. “Some of those fine ponies currently fixing the dorm annex have expressed an interest in helping build the sets.”
“Good work, Trixie,” Cabbage said, “but we’re going to need more. Now is the perfect time to start advertising calls for stage crew and open auditions. I want suggestions and mock-ups for ads by the end of tomorrow, and we’ll start the auditions and interviews next week. Any questions?” The audience was silent, so Cabbage continued, “Ok. We also need to start thinking about life after the theater season ends. The acclaim we can get from one successful show to a full house could feed us for a month, but we need to make strong, personal connections to ponies as well, and for two reasons. One reason, of course, is the best emotions only come from personal connections. The more important reason though, is building friendships with ponies will make us feel like a ‘normal’ part of Equestrian society, which will lead to ponies being more open with their emotions around us, which makes passive harvesting easier and more productive.”
“Awful lot of work for a slow payoff,” Chrysalis said.
“Oh, you think so?” Turnip asked sarcastically. “Because I’m thinking it’ll actually take a little less work, seeing that-”
Cabbage gave the pair a withering look. “Can’t you two go a day without getting into these arguments?” she asked in exasperation. “Anyway,” she said, “that should be all for now, unless anyling or anypony else has any new business to bring up.”
“I’ve got something, if that’s ok,” said a voice from the back of the theater, a voice that Cabbage recognized. The Changeling Queen added wings to her pony guise and flew up a little to get a better look at the back. She saw a young, white unicorn with a pink and light-purple mane and cutie mark of a linked pair of heart-shaped musical notes.
“Sweetie Belle?!” Cabbage exclaimed, equally surprised and elated. She flew over and shared a hug with the unicorn. “What are you doing here?” Cabbage asked.
“Rarity and her friends have some ceremony for saving the day yesterday,” Sweetie said with a casual air. “I tagged along so I could visit you, since you’re probably too busy to come back to Ponyville any time soon.” She took a step back and examined Cabbage. “You sure got bigger all of a sudden,” she said at last.
“One of the perks of being Queen, it seems,” Cabbage said. “So, did you interrupt this meeting just to say hello, or…?”
“No,” Sweetie said, “I’ve got real business too. One sec.” She walked out of the theater and returned a moment later with two other ponies. The first was a gray earth pony with a near-black mane, a purple treble clef cutie mark, was wearing a pink bow tie, and had a bland expression on her face to hide her nervousness at being around so many Changelings. The second pony was a white unicorn with an uneven two-toned blue mane, linked eighth notes for a cutie mark, and was wearing magenta sunglasses and big, light blue headphones. Her head was bobbing to some beat, and so far as Cabbage could sense she was unperturbed by the dozens of Changelings scrutinizing her and her companion. “Cabbage Patch,” Sweetie Belle said, “This is Octavia and Vinyl Scratch.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Cabbage said, extending a hoof to shake. She paused as a spark of recognition started echoing around the Hive Mind, and after she traced it to its source her eyes widened slightly. “Wait,” she said, “Vinyl Scratch, as in DJ-Pon3?”
“The same,” Sweetie Belle and Octavia said at the same time. Vinyl just smiled as she kept head-bobbing, and then grabbed and shook Cabbage’s hovering hoof.
“It, uh, seems you have a couple fans among this bunch,” Cabbage said, waving a hoof toward the Changelings, “but, what can I do for you?”
“I hear you’re putting on a musical,” Sweetie Belle answered, “and since Octavia and Vinyl are some of the best musical ponies ever, I-” Octavia gently put a hoof over Sweetie’s mouth, and the filly stopped herself short.
“To be frank,” Octavia said, “she pestered me until I agreed to come see what you’re doing.”
“The Crusaders can be a persuasive bunch,” Cabbage said with a sympathetic smile.
Vinyl Scratch smirked.
“Quite,” Octavia agreed. “So, what is this musical you… Changelings are planning?”
“The Changeling of the Opera,” Cabbage answered. “First official off-Bridleway production of it, in fact.”
Octavia and Vinyl both raised their eyebrows, and the DJ’s head-bobbing slowed to half speed. “No kidding?” Octavia exclaimed. “I’ve seen it. The score is simply superb, something I would love to take part in performing one day.”
Cabbage cast a glance at Sweetie Belle, who was giving her a beaming grin. “Well,” Cabbage told Octavia, “it just so happens we haven’t found an orchestra yet. If you don’t mind working alongside Changelings, we’d be happy to have you audition.”
Octavia’s face brightened, and her apprehensions faded almost to nothing. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly turn down the opportunity,” she said. “Vinyl, can you-” she turned to address her companion, but the white unicorn had wandered off, moving down a row of seats toward the sound booth. “Ah,” Octavia said, looking back at Cabbage, “do you have a sound tech yet, by chance?”
“No,” Cabbage said hesitantly. She looked over at Vinyl, who had lifted her glasses from her eyes as she inspected the control panel, and comprehension dawned on Cabbage. “No offense, Ms. Octavia,” Cabbage said, “but I don’t think if this play is… quite up her alley.”
“Showtunes aren’t her genre of choice, I’ll admit,” Octavia said, “but her music depends entirely on mastering a soundboard. Vinyl’s perfectly willing to lend you her expertise. Right, Scratch?” Vinyl glanced over, waved a hoof in an affirmative gesture, and then went back to inspecting the equipment. “Yes,” Octavia said to Cabbage, “she is ‘on board.’”
“Great,” Cabbage said. “I’ll send you a notice when we’ve picked a date for orchestra auditions.”
One Week Later
Cabbage’s head spun as she walked into her office, shutting the door firmly behind her before walking over to and climbing into her chair. The first round of open auditions had just ended, a full hour and a half after the expected time. Cabbage had had no idea there were so many ponies in Canterlot and the surrounding towns who had an interest, if not outright Cutie Marked talent, in acting and the strength of gut and character to willingly work alongside Changelings. The work of narrowing the field down for callbacks still needed to be done, and the Changelings with major roles in the play as well as Chrysalis were dominating the Hive Mind with the discussions, but Cabbage was not in the mood to take part. Turnip, Lemon Zest, she instructed the Lorekeepers, I need to rest my brain. Shield me from anything that’s not an emergency, please.
We’ll do our best, Turnip replied. A few moments later, the constant mental chatter faded to a buzz in the back of Cabbage’s mind, and she sighed in relief. It wasn’t the complete privacy of her own thoughts she’d spent the greater part of her life with, but it was as close as she would get without physically moving far, far away from every other Changeling in the city.
Within minutes of getting comfortable and finding a song she could focus on to drown out the buzzing, Cabbage’s reprieve was cut mercilessly short by the opening of her door and the entrance of a brown unicorn stallion with a short white mane and four green gems for a cutie mark, followed closely by Morph. With an irritated grunt, Cabbage sat up straighter and dispelled her pony guise in a slow burn, impulsively deciding this pony was worth scaring off, if possible. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked in a buzzing growl.
To his credit, the unicorn only stopped for a half second before approaching the desk and bowing respectfully. “Queen Patch,” he said, “my name is Rare Find, and I need to speak with you about Morph, here.”
Cabbage looked at Morph, who was avoiding her gaze with a pained look on his face. “I see,” Cabbage said, softening her tone a little. “Would you happen to be one of the ponies Morph keeps aggressively feeding from?”
“No,” Rare Find said, “I’m the pony he apparently keeps over-reacting to feeding from, at least over the last few weeks. I’m in the antiques trade, and Morph’s got a good eye for quality goods and…. dishonest dealers. Whenever we have a particularly good day, though, and I’m feeling particularly cheerful, he’ll start acting worried out of the blue and then run off, presumably to you because he thinks he’s taking too much happiness or something from me.”
Cabbage leaned forward and looked Rare Find in the eye. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Find, “she said, “but we Changelings are such thin ice that we have to be extremely cautious about not drawing in more emotional energy from the ponies around us than we’re being offered.”
“Morph’s taking that too far,” Rare Find insisted. “He only freaks out when I’m feeling on top of the world around him, and I’ve never felt, uh, drained after spending time with him.” He looked at the changeling in question and added, “As I’ve told him several times.”
Cabbage focused all her sense on Rare Find, feeling his emotional state. Morph, she asked over the Hive Mind, have you fed from him today?
Yes, My Queen, Morph answered, just a bit ago. I felt I was overdoing it again and tried to slip away, but he cornered me and demanded an explanation and… now we’re here.
I see, Cabbage said, focusing on Rare Find again. Well, aside from a predictable frustration at you, he doesn’t seem to be emotionally compromised. Maybe you have been overreacting a bit.
But, Morph protested, I started actively drawing in his feelings of pride and appreciation.
“Oh, Morph,” Cabbage said aloud, shaking her head, “I think I get it now.” Morph and Rare Find both looked at her quizzically. “I’ve taken a strong stance against forcibly pulling love out of ponies, but there’s nothing wrong with actively taking in emotions a pony is sending at you. It may feel the same, but it isn’t.”
“Well,” Morph said, “how do I tell the difference then? I’ve tried asking the Lorekeeper and others for advice but I just…”
“You’re probably overthinking it,” Rare Find said. “Besides, shouldn’t you know how, uh…” He glanced around searching for a good word.
“Overdrawing emotions feels?” Morph suggested.
“Yeah,” Rare said.
“I wasn’t a gatherer before Chrysalis’s Folly,” Morph said. “More of a… quartermaster, I guess. One of the drones in charge of maintaining the love reserves.”
Wait. Why’d you volunteer to be a Collector, then? Cabbage asked.
Because Citron didn’t want to, Morph answered simply.
“What you need then, I think,” Rare Find said, “is practice.” He stepped closer to Morph and put a hoof on the Changeling’s back. “You and me stick together all day, or as long as it take to figure out together where the line is. If that’s ok with you, Your Majesty,” he said to Cabbage.
“Sounds good in theory,” Cabbage admitted, “but it could be dangerous to your health, Rare Find.”
“Queen Patch,” Rare Find declared, “I consider Morph a real friend, and I’d be happy to take a few risks to help him out. What’s the worst that him overfeeding could do to me anyway?”
“Permanent damage to the emotional center of your brain, at the least,” Cabbage said, reciting the data Turnip was helpfully providing. Rare Find swallowed nervously, but regained his composure quickly. “That’s from extensive, long-term harvesting though,” Cabbage said. “The more common, early signs are recurring headaches, irrational anger or sadness, disorientation, and flattening affect. Watch for those, and you should be fine.” She made a mental note to recommend a similar exercise to any other Changeling that was having issues adapting to her methods, passed that note on to Turnip, and made shooing motion to Morph and Rare Find. “I would like to get back to my ‘me’ time, if you two don’t mind,” she said.
“Of course, right away, My Queen,” Morph said with a little panic, and quickly herded Rare Find out of the office. Cabbage shut and locked the door after them, and then put her earth pony guise back up.
“You’re doing a good job here,” Cabbage said to herself, sinking back into her chair. “Just keep telling yourself that.”