Out of sheer spite against fate for sending the griffon Imperial Guard at us again, hopefully for the last time, because if he survived THAT, I’m personally carrying the sword for him back home no matter what Eight says, we decided to keep going with our today’s media trip. After Hard Hat’s recount of events for the three or however many newspapers following us, and our own story about what happened after we split up with the miners, Eight ordered someone to bring her a proper scabbard for a sword completely out of dwarven size and weapon category. To her surprise, an hour of us resting later, a freshly made sheath got to her, and now she’s wearing the sword on her back.
Unfortunately, while the mining part was boring for Eight, this one is taking a heavy toll on both of us. Not because it’s dull, but because we can’t understand a thing. Long story short, Hard Reset took us on a trip into one of the geothermal power plants deep under Brauheim, the most well-maintained and replicated piece of their ancestors’ technology. At the moment, the only piece of the lecture I get is that geothermal means ‘heat coming from the ground’, the rest is an enema.
Wait, no. Enigma.
After one too many synchronized yawns with Eight, Hard Reset smiles at us and ends the lecture.
“Too much?” asks the young engineer. Eight nods immediately.
“I don’t mean to be rude, really,” I rub my eyes, “But this technology thing is all too much for us. You see, most things you consider normal or common knowledge is what we’re hearing about for the first time. Back in the hive, we lived without heat, and the only lights we had were made from our bioluminescent goop, which I still don’t know how to make anyway. I appreciate you trying to explain this,” I circle my hoof around the interior of the power plant control room, “but this is simply beyond our understanding.”
“Don’t worry about that,” our admission doesn’t curb Hard Reset’s enthusiasm, “Engineers usually spend a decade or two at school before applying their knowledge to good use. You should have seen the faces of some of my students. You are at least honest about it. However, if you want to learn the basics, I can arrange some tutoring.”
”Guys, you wanna learn how technology works? Maybe in case we needed to fix something or make some… device thingies?” I feel dumber just talking like this. The hive images of others appear in the hive mind darkness immediately.
”I’m sure I would enjoy the complexity,” Seven answers immediately, ”but magic is already an unstable force with its own set of laws I’ve barely scratched the surface of, and I’m sitting in the library full time. Order is an order, of course, but I’d prefer focusing on one thing.”
”I don’t mind,” the mental image of Six shrugs, ”Digging is great and all, but it can get a little repetitive. I’m not Three, I can’t do it forever. Count me in!”
Well, you’re making it painfully obvious that you weren’t raised in Chrysalis’ hive. Drones dig and carry stuff. Drones that don’t, they go crunch.
”Good, anyone else?”
”Well, I would, boss, but can’t we just nicely ask things to work? You know I’m not the smartest hole in a leg,” Three’s ears droop.
”Don’t worry about that, Three. There will always be a need for a diggy diggy drone. Plus, hugging machines to make them function again doesn’t wor-” a golden hoof stops my answer, followed by the rest of Scream gradually appearing as well.
”Don’t. Tempt. Fate. With. Him. Or. It. Will!” she hisses and disappears. I just shrug. At this stage, I’ve learned to accept things as they come. Besides, my original point stands. Three’s genuinely good at what he does.
”You know, I am actually interested,” Five raises her ethereal hoof, ”That bolt weapon the griffon used gave me an idea. Since I likely won’t live long enough to surpass Eight in power, I should focus on an area where we’re painfully defenseless. If they teach me how to operate, maintain, or even craft some interesting weapons, I’m all ears. Or holes if it helps move things along, I don’t mind getting some lust along the way.”
”Hey, we can learn together!” Six beams at Five who gives him a flat glance.
”Yes, we can,” she just shrugs in the end.
”Yessss!” Six punches the air quietly, seemingly okay with everyone watching him.
”Two, what about you?” I ask the unusually quiet member of our group.
She taps her hooves against the ground.
”I-I’d rather not, boss. I’m having enough trouble with the mental and magic stuff already. It’s not going well,” she adds in a whisper, ”...I don’t need another thing to suck at...”
”Alright, everyone. I’ll arrange some practical course for you with Hard Reset’s guys. I’m sure they’ll be able to accommodate your interests.”
“It’s like this-” out loud, I start talking to Hard Reset about the lessons and specifics, which takes the rest of our allotted time.
Inside, though, I immediately link up with Two.
”Two, is it really that bad? I thought it was going well with Scream.”
”It.. wasn’t,” she raises her hooves defensively to her chest, ”It’s not her fault, I swear. You see, I was asking Seven for help, because I just… every time I try it just goes wrong, then Scream got involved, and everything she did with me and failed worked wonders for him. I tried on my own again, but… I’m just no good at either fighting or magic.”
”Oh Two...” I hug smart bug, but she pushes me away, determined scrunch on her muzzle.
”So I decided to focus on my strength as you said, boss, but I need help in that as well. I can affect changelings other than you or… Eight just fine. I just can’t do it for anyone else unless I bite or kiss them. I tried on Topaz and some other dwarves while we were off hunting with Five. The problem is… well, you saw how useful I was at fighting the griffon brute. Five said that my role as an infiltrator would be to prevent battles rather than win them, but when I saw you all in danger today, fighting together, and I couldn’t think of ANYTHING to do to help… it hurt, dad.”
I sigh.
”I wish I could help you, Two, but the way I do commands is exactly the same as you - on us via hive links. That’s why I use them supportively to help us push through pain, to be free from the control of others, and so on. To affect someone else, I must bite them as well. However, I know it is possible. My good friend and Eight’s rival One who was killed by paladins in Las Pegasus was able to control others without contact, so I know it’s possible. Keep trying, Two. I know that if anyone can figure out how to do it, then it’s you.”
”You’re wrong,” a new hive link shadow appears behind Two, this one belonging to Eight.
”Eight?”
”What do YOU know?!” Two barks out at her, ”I MIGHT be able to figure it out! You just punch things!”
”You’re both wrong about using mental commands without contact or magic. There’s nothing of that sort. The fact that my body isn’t made to use them effectively doesn’t mean I don’t know the theory. You see, good infiltrators know how to affect every sense of ponies and other species to gain control over them. One was… as perfect changeling as I’ve ever met in more than her role. She knew how to assault your sight, your ears, your nose, everything. She could control your whole world from the moment you met her. You could protect yourself from most angles, and she’d still find a hole in your armor.”
”How?” Two can’t help asking despite still scowling at Eight.
”Smell - pheromones. As soon as you picked her scent, or even walked through a place she prepared beforehoof, even much earlier, her scent would be locked inside your brain, and when you met her again, you would obey. I can do that to only a miniscule degree, because as a warrior I’m made to always force a situation where I can use my venom directly and bite. If you somehow kept your distance, perhaps you were hidden behind a door, but you could still hear her, she could control her vocal chords in such a way that would make you suggestible, blow up your lust through the roof, and eventually make your brain melt from your crotch. As for sight, it’s a transformation trick and overall motion. Ponies are susceptible to certain colors flashing at certain frequencies, that’s why when a changeling is trying to hypnotize you, it looks as if their eyes were flashing. She might supplement that effect with some swaying motion of her body, maybe buzzing her wings at right speed. And of course, there’s the touch method - venomous saliva, sweat, blood, other juices, everything. You need to understand one thing - the true power of THE perfect infiltrator, one better than Chrysalis herself, the control she could easily exert over most others was a result of her knowledge and her control over herself. The only one immune in the end was me.”
”H-How?” Two can’t help staring in awe at Eight now despite her feelings towards her.
”Because I gave up complete control over myself to someone I trusted without a shred of doubt or hesitation. There is no mental control in the world that would break my loyalty anymore.”
”To me, Two,” I give Eight a quick bow which she returns, ”She isn’t like any other changeling to me, even Three. She is my life, and I am hers. Our hive link used to be different as well, but that changed when my body was rebuilt inside One’s cocoon. I know you don’t like her, and I understand why. To be frank, I’m a bit mad about what she did too, but understand that she’s on my side, and will be.”
”I hope it helped, at least a little. I’ll bundle my knowledge about the subject into the hive mind so that you can use it once we regain some love spent today. It’s about damn time we started using it as the knowledge repository that it’s meant to be, not just for communication. Speaking of which, boss, it’s time for our next media performance,” Eight disappears.
”I could go for the hug now,” squeaks Two.
I’m not one to argue with reasonable requests.
***
“Umm, Geode?” I ask the usually quiet council mare responsible for social services, “Why are we here, and where is here?”
The house we’re in right now looks rather strange, more like a prison or something. The hallway is lined with small, soundproof rooms with a small, barred window each. Maybe it’s just the dim, red light everywhere, but it feels creepy. Granted, if the light was green, I’d be right at home. Maybe I should pitch an idea to the council myself. You know, dig our own section of the mine and make it more like a hive.
The meek mare smiles at me.
“This is the daycare center for southern Brauheim. While parents are away at work, they can drop their foals off in here for the day.”
That said, there’s no aura of happily playing foals anywhere around.
“Mind if I take a look?” I walk over to the nearest door.
“Only through the window, please,” Geode’s smile never leaves her muzzle as she nods agrees.
Inside, in the blood-red darkness, a foal with a small axe is darting back and forth to avoid biting mouths of strange creatures which I haven’t seen before shackled to the walls.
Eight joins me, beams, and claps her hooves together.
“Hey, that’s pretty neat!”
“That’s horrible!” I turn towards Geode surprised by my outburst, “That’s like what we drones had to do at home to amuse higher ranks! I think only like five of us survived one particularly boring day before the invasion.”
“Huuuuh,” Geode tilts her head, clearly not understanding, “It makes them strong and tough. We’ve got medical staff at hoof so that they don’t get too badly hurt. Once they get older and can stay at home alone or join some clubs, they’re ready to face whatever the depths throw at them.”
“Oh, well… we didn’t have that...” I pout, “We just died and got recycled.”
“Oh, that’s horrible!” now Geode looks about to cry.
YOU don’t get to say that after showing me this!
“You know, I kinda like this. Reminds me of my hazing when I got to top fifty. I had to ride through the hive on a Badlands scorpion with no love. Aaaah, good times,” Eight’s expression softens for a moment, before her ears perk up, “Hey, can we drop Two off here? Since she wants to be challenged and stuff.”
“Over my melted chitin!” I stomp that idea once and for all.
“Sooo,” Eight ignores my outburst, and nudges Geode, “Those biters in there looked harmless, but do you, like, use them for smaller foals too?”
“Oh no, no no no, that would be too dangerous-”
THIS IS ALL TOO DANGEROUS!
“-Smaller foals get smaller creatures. The youngest get these tiny crabs who can barely pierce the skin, but the nipping hurts.”
“Neat, and what about the older ones?”
“The oldest ones, or the particularly bad seeds, they get… the carp,” Geode finishes with a whisper and a shudder.
Eight raises an eyebrow.
“What’s so bad about fish, especially one with crap teeth? Heh, carp, crap...” Eight chuckles, “I think I even recall a warrior who used to stick his dick into their mouths because he was sick of other changelings. He was weird like that.”
“I hesitate to ask what happened next...” I roll my eyes, feeling very precognizant right now.
“It actually became quite a movement within the hive for a while when we had no access to new broodmares and pony pets. Then the adventurous guy met a lamprey eel for the first AND the last time. On the other heavily bleeding hole, he was the first higher tier changeling I ate after he bled out. I can still remember the crunching of his chitin… ahhh...”
What’s a lamp-
Eight shares the memory with me. My stomach revolves.
Confused Geode simply waits until Eight returns from the memory lane, and says:
“I suppose carps are just a dwarven thing then. Anyway, that concludes my portion of today. Foal care isn’t a particularly adventurous vocation, but when you see the little guys grow-”
And lose a limb or two along the way.
“-it’s all worth it. I just wanted to thank you personally for the changes you allowed. Quite a lot of stallions wanted joined since then, and most of them are a blessing. Colts need somepony to show them how to properly mutilate a vampire bat in complete darkness.”
You’re all freaking crazy. I’m seriously contemplating Chrysalis’ idea of just jamming everypony into cocoons and have changelings rule the world.
“Ehm, thank you,” is all I say in the end.
Thankfully, this one was short, and with some luck, the next one will be the same.
Why? Because it’s with Black Soil, and it’s a tour through a moss farm.
The dwarven mare knows what our media trip is about, and does understand that there’s pretty much no way her occupation is going to raise our profile as good rulers, but takes the trip seriously, explaining moisture distribution, various kinds of fertilizers, and everything related to growing food underground.
Come to think about it, the tale of the griffon Emperor means that dwarves used to have good contacts with the surface, or at least their mysterious ancestors had. Right now, as far as I know, Steelback is the only direct non-dwarf anyone speaks with. And us, of course.
Anyway, the dark green mare with brown mane who looks as if she was grown on the moss farm herself finishes her lecture, and gives Eight a small pot as if for a plant. Inside, there is some fresh soil and quickly spreading moss. My eyes quickly linger on her unusually wide hips, before I focus on the presented gift.
“It starts growing so fast you can see it, and when it covers the available surface, it stops spreading, and starts growing into depth and nutrition- HEY, WHAT?” she immediately snatches the quickly withering and blackening moss pot from Eight’s hooves, “H-How?” she looks genuinely sad about the quick demise of the plant- mushroom- whatever the damn thing is.
Eight shrugs.
“I guess I’m not much of a farmer.”
“B-But… but it’s moss...” Black Soil stutters, “It grows everywhere. On its own even.”
“Remind me to never give you a pet, Eight,” I comment.
“Meh, you know I prefer being one,” she just shrugs.
I pat Black Soil’s back.
“Growing things reeeeeally isn’t our strength. We don’t eat plants or meat, and all our attempts at farming ponies ended as devastating failures for us. But thank you very much for explaining how things work anyway. It’s good to know things about our current home, even though it might be temporary.”
The small but overly-endowed mare gives me a bright smile, and leads us along with the few remaining media dwarves taking pictures of us on the farm.
Iron Rose meets us outside, waves Black Soil off, and leads us few streets away into what looks like a small bar. I was expecting it to be empty due to complete lack of internal lighting, but there’s quite a few dwarves sitting around and chatting. I guess you don’t need much light to run a bar as long as you have liquor.
“Hey, bartender, give us something that melts steel beams,” she sits us down to a corner table, then shoo’s the media away, “Show’s over for today. I want to talk to the king and queen in private. Council business.”
Disappointed, our today’s retinue disperses, and Iron Rose joins us at the table.
“I heard what happened today, and I thought you could use some rest,” she smiles, “So just unwind, and have a drink.”
The bartender brings us a metal mug each, and for once I have the chance to actually taste what is inside my mouth instead of just pretending to be a dwarf while thinking about something completely unrelated. Not that I can digest it, but I think about drinking more as reloading.
Tastes faintly of apples for some reason.
“You know, I’m surprised things stayed mostly the same even though the city isn’t at war with itself anymore,” I say. Iron Rose had contacts on both sides of the barricade, so she knows the most about dwarves’ overall mood.
“Reason prevailed in the end,” she takes a sip herself, “And as much a others want to blame queen here for all resulting trouble, I’m not so narrow-minded. No matter the reasons, past year opened a conversation we genuinely needed for decades. To be honest, Granite wanted us to talk, because he believes you two are the hope for a better Brauheim, and that change is coming. To me, that feels overly optimistic. You see, our worst enemy has retreated for now, but this isn’t a victory by any means. This is the calm before the storm.”
“Who do you mean as the worst enemy?” I ask while Eight’s ears twitch, and she looks around, “This ‘darkness’ or whatever the prophecy meant?”
“No, I mean dark priests themselves. This wasn’t just some simple dispute about morals. You must understand that what they truly want deep down is control, and they will try to take it back. What’s worse, us dwarves will give it to them again.”
“What? I thought both Eight and I brought change and freedom.”
“For how long? A year in case of queen, and few weeks under you,” Iron Rose shakes her head, chugs the rest of her mug, and orders another one, “You must understand the magnitude of what you’re facing, and that is the essence of dwarfdom. Millennia of traditions, rituals, habits, and the worst part - way of thinking of the second oldest civilization on the face of Equus, albeit one in… drastic decline,” she sighs, “All the dark priests need is to threaten anyone to declare them a non-dwarf, and they will do anything to prevent that, because the declaration will spread, and said non-dwarf won’t find home anywhere here again. These ‘heretics’ will have to leave for the surface which they or their families haven’t seen in generations or more likely ever.”
“That’s a pretty stupid superstition,” sneers Eight, “The non-dwarf thing, I mean. I completely agree that those bald assholes will try something again.”
Iron Rose just blinks when faced with Eight’s complete dismissal of this obscure dwarf thing.
“Superstition or not, you will have to work around it.”
“Not really, no,” I shoot her down.
“What do you mean?”
“I think you’re projecting what you want on me, and by you I mean dwarves,” I glare at her, “You want me to save your asses and take the blame if things don’t work out. After all, you were afraid that dwarves would respect the ruler’s authority no matter who it was that you wanted me to abdicate part of my power to the council, which I agreed with because I didn’t want to stay here forever anyway. Things have changed somewhat, but if you want progress, or if you want to at least keep what little you gained, YOU will have to fight tradition for it. If YOU give it up, YOU will lose everything. I won’t. I’ve accomplished my goal here which was to find Eight. You’re making our stay here beneficial, but we can simply leave tomorrow and then what?”
Iron Rose bites her lip.
“But how do you justify fighting against somepony who believes they’re doing the best they can for you? You heard them in the vault. They truly believe they’re saving us all.”
“Look, I’m not saying I won’t do my best to help, but you must understand that this is your fight first and foremost, not mine. And if you can’t find the strength to resist, then you will lose. We won’t fight a war only you want for you. Not again,” I sigh, recalling the vision about poor Wistful, “We can be your partners, but we won’t be your tools.”
I finish my drink and stand up.
“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’m exhausted, and I’ve said everything I wanted to about this idea. You know that I’m more than eager to kick the ass of the first dark priest I see, but as I said - this is your fight.”
Iron Rose closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.
“I understand. I guess hoping for a hero, some bright beacon who would sort out all our troubles for us, was wishful thinking.”
“And don’t forget lazy,” adds Eight.
“True,” Iron Rose pays the bartender, and when we leave, she salutes, “Have a restful evening, your Majesties.”
“You too,” I answer, “We all deserve a moment of peace.”
***
And we actually had one. Eight’s libido very temporarily sated, we both told the dwarf guards not to let anyone bother us under the pain of pain, and we simply slept through the evening and night, until, despite our orders, knocking on the door woke both of us up.
“Hmmm,” I yawn, “I think I’ve slept through my cranky stage and am feeling merciful.”
Blinking my sleepiness away, I open the door on the other side of which a nervous guard stutters:
Am I that scary?
No, obviously. Eight is right behind me.
“I’m s-sorry to w-wake you up, but you have an urgent guest from loremaster Granite, your M-Majesties.”
“Urgent?” I furrow my brows, “Is anything wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, king,” says a calm, clearly female but deep voice of a mare standing next to a different dwarf guard who I don’t think is from our door. Damn, I don’t know anything about how guards organize stuff. She’s not wearing anything, but her companion is pulling a small cart with various weapons and pieces of armor. She bows so deep her muzzle touches the floor, and I can’t avoid noticing her absolutely perfect figure, “My name is Battlecry, and loremaster Granite along with Iron Rose sent me to assist you with your physical training, and to figure out how to make use of your unique fighting style.”
Until now, I had no idea dwarves know what makeup is, doubly so how to use it to make my jaw drop a little.
In short, Battlecry might be the most beautiful pony mare I’ve ever seen, even though she’s basically an earthpony scaled down. Her amber coat is shiny in the light of the lamps, her cheek-short, rusty mane is tucked behind her ears not to impair her vision, and while she’s giving me a soft, confident smile, the stare of her bright, piercing green eyes shows no weakness. Physically… she’s something changelings transform into to stun everypony around them. Similar to Eight in a way, her muscles bulge under her coat, but she’s nowhere as bulky. In short, despite clearly being a warrior, she’s first and foremost a mare and she’s proud of it.
Waaaaaaaaaait, more important thing than booty… LIGHTS ARE WORKING!
“I see...” the answer in a tone that could freeze the sea isn’t mine, but Eight’s.
Great, now I’m going to have to explain that I really don’t consider this absolutely stunning mare pretty at all, and that Eight’s definitely-not-jealous for no reason.
Granite, you sly bastard…
Well, Battlecry, don’t blame me if your boss finds you next year in some hidden air vent bloated with eggs.