It was as if all the Badlands had become one great carnival of colors and lights. Changelings sang and feasted, while fireworks burst overhead and patriotic banners of black and green flapped from every window. Nymphs ran through the streets waving sticks in lieu of guns, aping the salutes of gray-clad soldiers marching to war, and the heartening songs bursting all around. “Masters of all, Changelings we; Queen Chrysalis, all glory to thee...”
Thorax wasted a fair bit of his brother’s time trying to work “Trottingham” into the song, until Pharynx distracted him with some sweetened love. They drank it greedily – such treats were only for the wealthy, but today nothing could be denied to Pharynx’s crisp black uniform. The pen-keeper swelled with pride at the presence of a Queensguard in his restaurant, and gave Pharynx an extra two jars to last him til Canterlot. These went into his pack alongside the other gifts: chitin-polish, a flute, and a framed picture of Queen Chrysalis.
Thorax thanked the pen-keeper, though the ling ignored him. He also remembered to thank the pony who gave the love, and she giggled and curtsied in a way that made Thorax blush. Someling down the way called for a refill, and she sped there as fast as her chains allowed.
He kept watching, but Pharynx pulled him away. “Come on, I can’t miss the train.”
“She’s pretty,” Thorax mumbled, the blue of his eyes casting back as they left.
“She’s taken,” Pharynx said. Then he gripped Thorax in a headlock-hug, chortling at the muffled protests. “Come on, I’ll need more than ‘pretty’ to work with. What do you want for your first pony? I’ll try to make it special for you.”
Thorax laughed as his brother hoisted him playfully along. “I dunno. I want her pretty, but also kind of big so she can protect me from Stinger and her gang.”
“And you want it a ‘she,’” Pharynx noted with a little wiggle of the wings. But he released Thorax, humor fading. “You’re going to have to toughen up. I’m a Queensguard – this time next year I’ll be in charge of some factory, or even a village. Maybe some place in Canterlot, with Chrysalis-knows how many ponies working for me. I won’t have time to chase off bullies.”
“That’s why you’ll get a pony to do it,” Thorax announced proudly. “In fact… oh, look!”
He sped off, weaving through singing revelers to stare gape-mouthed at a poster rolled onto a building’s wall. It was fully three meters high, with image of Queen Chrysalis looming above them with hoof stretched north. Changelings beneath her charged with fixed bayonets, wearing the black and gold of the Queensguard. Flags raised in the background, and printed word beneath said simply, “ENLIST!”
Thorax’s eyes moved from the soldiers to the word, and he blew a sigh. “If only I could.”
“Two years too late,” Pharynx unhelpfully teased.
“Think it’ll last two years?”
“Not a chance,” Pharynx said. “We’re in Trottingham already. Next is Baltimare, then Canterlot. But hey – word in the castle is we’re the ones behind the revolt in Diamondia. Maybe you’ll get to go there. You like dogs, right?”
“Not big, smelly diamond dogs,” Thorax said sulkily. “But maybe taking Canterlot won’t end it? The Germanes, up north – they’re tough for ponies, yeah? Maybe it’ll take a few years, after all.”
Pharynx gave a snort. “Come on, you’ve met ponies. They’re docile, stupid. The stars made them to work for us, to farm and move the sun and clouds. It’s the order of things; Queen Chrysalis says so, and Queen Chrysalis is always right.”
“Queen Chrysalis is always right.” Thorax said exuberantly, bobbing his head. A passing soldier repeated the words with gusto, and the chant rippled through the street.
A train bell clanged in the distance. Pharynx stiffened. “Ten minute warning, little bro. I have to run.”
He scooped in Thorax for a quick, tight embrace. “Next time Stinger picks on you, you punch her. Easy as that. And tell old Gossamer that next time I see her I’ll break that damn paddle over her face.”
He hesitated as Thorax – small, wimpy Thorax – stared up with shining admiration, then groaned a sigh. “Actually, skip that last part. And pay attention to Gossamer and the other teachers, you’ll need an education when it comes time to own your first pony. I’ll make sure she’s pretty!”
With a laugh, Pharynx pushed his brother away and took off at a trot. Thorax remained, admiring the poster until the truant officer brought him back to the dorm.
The tall ling did not beat Thorax for once, but today merely teased him for having missed his chance.