//------------------------------//
// Star Hill, Cash Heeled 
// Story: A War 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

The sun was rising in its hour of dawn, coloring the sky in pink and blue.
Below, a lush and thick forest where the final chirpings of grasshoppers came to an end as rabbits hopped about and as birds perched themselves on branches and sang their songs, their melodious tunes filling the air with simple and unaided music. The smell of fresh air, the dew on the grass, even the delectable taste of blueberries—a luscious, bite-sized wallop exploding in one's mouth.
Which is what Star Hill experienced as he picked some blueberries from a bush and ate them.
He then walked through the forest, going around trees and not minding the zoo of animals bouncing around, darting to and fro.
After some minutes of plodding on the slightly wet grass, he reached the forest's edge where some trees overlooked a small cliff.
Beyond the cliff, dying badlands.
Desolate, scorching hot, gray. Dead trees, some toppled over. Occasional weeds, infesting their niche spots. Barren mountains, sharp rocks and protrusions. Dry ground; stiff, chapped. Acrid stench.
In the horizon, rising to the sky: a tower. A blemished, hole-ridden, jagged tower. Black specks roamed and flew around it, collectively creating a humming buzz reverberating across the wastes.
Star Hill jumped down the cliff and continued walking.
Walking.
And walking.
For some time.
Up and down irregular features of the ground, then stamped out a budding plant.
The buzz growing louder.
Then, some of the specks stopped their usual course and routed their way toward the pony.
Star Hill stood firm, putting on a resolute face.
The specks formed into coherent shapes.
Shapes of fanged, scarred changelings. Two wore armor and shields; the rest of the group had none.
Landed in front of Star Hill.
"Identify yourself," one of the shielded changelings said, his companions growling at the newcomer.
Star Hill grinned.
Enveloped in a green glow.
No more was the pony. Instead, a purple-eyed changeling.
The other changelings gasped, looked at each other surprised, and saluted him.
"I see that you've improved," the saluted changeling said, shifting his glance past each of them, preserving his coarse, guttural voice. "Faster response time, increased detection range—training's stuck to you. Who knows? You could end up leading patrol squadrons on your own."
One of the changelings chanced a smile.
"Don't get your hopes up!" he shouted, pointing at that happy changeling. "You have to prove yourself to me before you can get a promotion! Got it?!"
The accused changeling shook his head up and down, shuddering scared. "Y-Yes, Pharynx..."
"Now, where was I?"



Escorted by his new entourage, Pharynx flew his way through the guarded entrance where the sentries stood watch and saluted him.
Inside the Changeling Hive, a baffling and disorienting mess of layers or floors made out of what looked like stone but not really—for, at times, the material itself changed shape. Some pathways altered direction, some holes opened and closed, some stairs gained or lost height. Changelings teemed in their home, meandering around in flight as they passed green glowing lights and green changeling eggs.
Buzzes echoed, reverberated.
To meet Pharynx, a tall and different changeling stood near the balcony's edge overhanging an open forum of busy workers.
She was larger than the average changeling. Her mane and her tail were like that of a pony, but were like fragile, bendable glass. Her horn, like that of a unicorn, was not straight—it had multiple turns. A dinky little black crown topped her head, and her iris-gilded eyes were green.
"You've come back on such short notice, Pharynx," Queen Chrysalis said, bowing a little to be level with her subject. "I wasn't expecting you to arrive this early. Is there a problem?"
"No, Queen," he answered. "In fact, I gave the ponies a problem of their own."
Chrysalis grinned, showing her teeth with four fangs. "Brilliant. And, what would that problem be?"
"Ensuring the survival of leading figures in the peace drive present in Equestria," Pharnyx reported. "As long as we keep them alive and well, then there will always be internal strife."
Chrysalis clapped her hooves. "Goodie. All according to plan." Looked off behind her, seeing the sort of "ground floor" of the hive where a mess of changelings marched in place. "The time to strike is not at hoof, however."
"Then, I am ready to take on whatever assignment you wish to grant me, Queen."
She cackled and rubbed his head.
Pharynx was unmoving, staring at her with a stubborn expression.
"As a matter of fact," Chrysalis started, "there is something that I've been mulling over for the last week ever since I've heard the news."
"What news would that be?" Pharynx asked.
Chrysalis touched her chin, now looking past Pharynx and toward the outside. "The Princesses have constructed a home for the Crystal ponies who managed to escape Sombra's grasp before the war. They're sheltering them there, and they're making a statement to all of Equestria. Well—" a low snicker "—would you mind, hm, making a predicament there, if you will?"
Pharynx grinned. "Ah! I see where you're going with this." He rubbed his forehooves, his sinister grin retained.
Chrysalis raised a hoof. "Oh. I almost forgot. Keep looking for your traitor of a brother, Thorax, while you're at it. Make no mistakes—one blunder and the both of you will go down."
"I guarantee it," and saluted his master.
Chrysalis smiled and giggled.
Which turned into an uproarious, evil laugh.
More than a few changelings halted to look at their laughing Queen.



A book closed and placed back on the table's stack under the sunlight past the ceiling's window.
As the monocled Fancy Pants faced the red unicorn with purple hair. "Well, you seem to be the type who goes off on philanthropic pursuits. Dare I say, you do not look like a wealthy pony in the eyes of many of my friends and acquaintances, but, perhaps, you are secretly wealthy."
"I'm a modest pony," the red unicorn said, his accent haughty yet country. "If I earn lots of money, might as well give lots of money. I have no care in the world for trifles and baubles that a stereotypical Canterlot highborn buys and then shows off to everypony he or she meets."
"Yes, yes," Fancy said, fixing his monocle. "The kind of attitude I want to see in our dear old upper class! Too bad they've done too little, too late—now, I and less than twenty others are left. You do know of Prince Blueblood's 'demotion', don't you?"
The unicorn nodded.
Then, a suited butler opened the door to the small room, levitating a tray of tea cups and a teapot on to the table. "Your afternoon tea, sirs."
"Excellent!" Fancy Pants said, floating a little sack of bits to the butler. "This fine gentlepony does deserve his tea for his moral efforts!"
The butler nodded, turned around, walked out of the room, and closed the door.
The red unicorn was looking at the globe situated beside the book stack.
"Cash Heeled," Fancy Pants said, "you are an amicable character. You would more than fit in when we get to the Crystal Pony Complex. Seven o' clock in the evening?"
"Seven o' clock," Cash Heeled repeated.
Fancy Pants stood up and drank some of his tea. "This is Prince of Bales tea!" He faced the seated Cash Heeled. "Wouldn't you like a fine sample?"
He shook his head. "I'm not a tea pony."
"Then, coffee?"
Shook his head again.
"What do you drink besides water?" Fancy inquired. "I must give you something."
"Candy," Cash Heeled answered. "I have a sweet tooth. A very sweet tooth."
Fancy levitated a box of candies from a cabinet and put it down on to the table beside the tea tray. "I've got an assortment to keep you occupied until dinner. After that, we head off to the complex. Sounds right for you?"
Cash Heeled opened the box. His mouth watered at the sight of so many sugary sweets before him. Not looking up: "Sounds right, Fancy Pants."