//------------------------------//
// 6 – Everypony In Their Right Place? 
// Story: Follow the Worms 
// by argomiam 
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April 13th, 1023.





Light,

In respect to your recent behaviour of the most immoral, despicable and un-ponylike character, there is no possible way I could refer to you by any title, be it sir, Mr., or saviour, as you so desperately wish to be referred to.

You have done everything to set back ponies and their pursuit of happiness. If you had even one modicum of self-awareness, you would take a deep view inwards and realise that the havoc you wreak has done nothing but harm, destabilise and uproot the lives of the innocent pony.

The deepest pits of Tartarus shall soon beckon to you, and I implore you, to take your way out before the consequences do indeed catch up.

We know of all your wrong-doing, and we hold no qualms against revealing all of your reprehensible acts to public journals. This is your undoing. You are nothing but a thug and a plagiariser of ideology, and not even the grimmest minds of fascist thought would even dare to stoop to the lows you so frequently dance with. If your mind dares explore the notion that the leaders of old would support your ideals, I urge you to think long and hard about it, though that would likely be the first time such a despicable creature like yourself has. Equinity has never before endured such a terrible character as yourself.

This is not a letter of hatred, this is a promise that we will tear you down. Your malice and misery cannot be put up with any longer, for if it were, all good ponies not yet tainted by your poisonous thought will be damned to a world at your helm.

You are a tyrant and a priest of deceit, and it shall soon be revealed to all this is indeed the real you. You will find attached transcripts of your disgusting conversations, and images that paint your debauchery. You are undone. Equus shall be rid of fascists like you. It is the only way the future can shine just a little brighter.

The equestrian public, the ponies you hail yourself to stand for, the so-called "oppressed masses", will know you not for the grandiose picture that you have made for yourself, but for the real you. The disgusting, amoral, you.

Destiny always wins, Light, and this here is yours. This shall be the only legacy you know. Your only hope is to disappear and pray that you will have none. There is no other path for you to walk. We see through your disguise, traitor.





The letter creased, its reader snorting. It was placed back inside its envelope, and passed back to the changeling at the table.

"So," Anthearea closed the envelope, tucking it back into her medal-speckled jacket, before shovelling another forkful into her mouth. "What did you think? I believe the prose is quite colourful."

The letter had made its way across the table. It was laughs all around, Gander having some critiques of his own. Light, however, was quite on edge. As the letter slid across the table, he couldn't help but feel a little sick. Obviously, it was just a slander piece. But it was a V.O.P.S. slander letter, and against him, no less. That was nerve-racking. It meant they had him in their scope, and that was an ever so rude reminder of his mortality.

Anthearea was an impressive changeling. Well-decorated, years of service to the Heer and almost a decade as the military-governor of Bales. She was, in essence, the holiest of holies, as far as regional changeling control was concerned; that warranted an appropriate amount of care around words.

"I like how they pretend to be ponies," Light shrugged, playing off his continuing discomfort. He took another bite of his meal, wiping his face with his hoof ungracefully. "I think it's cute that they got some drone to play pretend just for me."

"Ehh." Their guest shrugged. "It was a suggestion, from them to me. Obviously, I have the final say in matters like these. They tend to not be too insistent when it comes to collaborators, and I made sure to put in a good word for such a fine band of ponies." She laughed, taking another sip of wine.

"Oh, thank goodness for that." Roly giggled. "What ever would we do without you?"

"Die, most likely." Anthearea responded, dryly. "Not to be rude, of course. Other governors just simply wouldn't have allowed you the privileges I do."

"How benevolent our Lady is." Light sipped his wine.

"Watch your words, Light," she joked. "I can still tell V.O.P.S. you're an actual threat."

Light held his hooves up in mock surrender. Gander kicked him from under the table, giving a reconciliatory smile to him almost as quickly. Light ignored it.

"And V.O.P.S. would not be happy with what you lot are doing!" she exclaimed, readjusting her medals. "I mean, the unicorn stuff? They love that. But the whole... you know, 'send the changeling bastards home again'? Not so much."

It was like the air became solid. Gander looked up from his food in horror, mouth agape in the sudden realisation of just what he had let happen. Light could see from the corner of his eye how Roly's hoof had dropped to her open bag, reaching inside for something he hardly had to guess.

She spoke with a suspicious nonchalance that disturbed Light quite deeply. It was the sort of tone you took up when downplaying your own achievements to look humble, not the sort you'd adopt when revealing somepony's treachery.

"Oh, relax, would you?" Anthearea continued eating, clearly unbothered by the whole unveiling of a plot. "The thing I was most bothered about was that you called me a bastard," she spoke between chews. "The rest? I mean... officially, if it were to be revealed, I would have to put you all to death. No words of favour I have could save you there."

None of the ponies spoke. Light sat up in his chair, raising an eyebrow hesitantly. They all exchanged worried glances with each other, but not Light. Light's eyes seemed fixed on the changeling's. All those possibilities ran through his head now. Six years, without so much of a word, and suddenly she came into his home and revealed this so calmly. A chill ran through his spine. Blackmail, perhaps?

"I've got limited time away from the ear of Vesaliopolis' finest, you must understand. All I'm suggesting is that someling may know a little about the Heer, and might know Vesaliopolis has directed most its forces up over in Nova Griffonia and Stalliongrad dealing with troublemakers."

Gander didn't seem to relax, clutching onto his butterknife like it would, in the event of attack, save his life. Roly and Light glanced at each other, daring to share a slight smile. The tension lightened just a little, enough for conversation again.

It wasn't the best idea to trust Anthearea, thought Light. It was dangerous, but then again, what wasn't when you were planning things of this nature? Equestria certainly wouldn't be restored alone.

A gilded lighter opened from across the table. Its owner placed an ornate looking box from across the table, opening it and taking a cigar. “I assume I’m alright to smoke?” asked the changeling, to everyone's relief it was not a handgun, or some warrant for all of their executions.

“By all means,” Light replied, reminded of his own cravings. “Was just thinking the same myself.”

"Wonderful." She smiled, taking a small tool from the box and clipping the end of the cigar. It was a strange process to watch, seeing someone willingly cut off a portion, but Light had very little expertise on the matter. He stuck to cigarettes. "Care for one?" she asked around the table.

There was a murmur of polite 'no's from across the table, to which the changeling shrugged at. "More for myself. Surprised you didn't take up the offer, Light. It's quite a bit more of a hit. Did you know cigarettes originally came from the collected clippings of cigars that the poor would collect? I think that's quite a funny story. I'd much rather be smoking the original thing."

Light gave her an odd glance. "You talk about the shittest things."

"Light," Gander reprimanded.

"Right. No. Governor," he started. "You claim you know these... things we're doing, right?"

"Gathering a party with the intent of sedition," she responded calmly, with a quick puff-puff-puff of her cigar, a cloud of richly scented smoke hanging over the table. "Yes, indeed. Don't worry though, I'm not V.O.P.S., for whatever that's worth."

"Right. Okay, you come into my home." Light soon found himself the target of a glare from beside him, given this was in fact Gander's home. "You have a wonderful meal with us, then you drop these claims. What do you want?"

"Light, my dearest friend." She chortled, still enraptured by her cigar. "I didn't mean to offend. I only wanted to inform you I know what you're doing. I could've had agents arrest you a long time ago."

"So what are you doing?" he repeated. "We've known each other... what, better part of six years now?"

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, pointing the cigar at him. "So you're my friend, and I watch over my friends. You've shown me kindness, you've been entertaining, I see it fit to show it back. That's what all those ideas of friendship were about, right?"

Gander had a look on his face that spelt out he was expecting the worst of Light, like he was bracing himself for an oncoming lecture. He shifted nervously toward Light, obviously not comfortable letting him have one of his discussions at what seemed to be such a delicate moment. But, he kept his lips sealed.

"Friendship's a tired ideology, Anthearea. Old Equestrian thought. New time, new thought."

"Post-friendship, then," she raised her wine glass. "See? I do listen to your speeches. You're a very good orator. Passionate! Willing to tell ponies what they need to listen to, and that's admirable, because they damn well do need to listen."

"Temper."

"Right. Sorry," she smiled, continuing. "And I think that you're a capable candidate to have a real position in Equestria's future. And lord knows, it will have a future." She laughed, swirling the wine around the glass.

The group shared another suspicious glance. This was a very jarring statement to hear from a member of the Heer – a governor, and a respected one at that. Light was the first to draw the nerve to give her a puzzled look, the sort that beckoned to continue.

"It's been ten years, everypony. We're not making any progress, but everyling agrees with that – I simply choose to act on that thought. So when Equestria finally, oh..." She added jazz hooves, speaking with the tone of a practiced story-teller. "Rises from the ashes like a phoenix, well, a 'ling needs her place on the right side of history."

There was silence, the silence of collective thought between the three worms. It took the better part of a few seconds before Light finally got his bearings, nodding, a sly smile creeping across his muzzle.

"So... you want in?" Roly spoke.

"One could say that." She finished her wine, already well into pouring her third glass. "I get so very bored, Light. So little to be done, so many angry changelings to appease. Frankly, it's unbecoming. Mind you, I miss fighting."

Like an old mare reminiscing of the glory days of once-were, she reclined into her seat.

"Damn it, Anthearea." Light spoke giddily. "Where've you been all this time? Maybe some good changelings really do exist, eh?" He pressed a shoulder into Gander's side, who winced.

The military governor of Bales for near ten years, and she only waved a chitinous hoof in dismissal. "I'd like to think I have powers at hand that you'd be intrigued in. That being said, my ambitions are far grander than foot soldier for pony fascists."

There was the catch, at last. Light sat up, cigarette already in hoof ready to add to the grey haze that loomed overhead. For all his distrust of the changelings, he considered the governor a personal friend. Few in the Heer would ever be as... tolerant of his 'campaigning' as her. She certainly had his attention.

"Go on."

"Well, senior leadership might be nice. A general again, I'd think, or whatever's the equivalent in whatever you call this. I've thrown ten years of my life down the drain to barely maintain order in a failing state, I think I deserve something a bit more grand than what is effectively police sergeant of Bales." She had a discernibly care-free look upon her face, one difficult to gauge just how care-free it really was.

"I just... I don't get it," Gander finally spoke. "Ten years, plus whatever you spent in the Heer, perfectly loyal to your Queen, and now you just want to help us?"

Light couldn't scold him for being suspicious, it was reasonable enough in his eyes. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little annoyed that he'd interrupt like this now.

"I wouldn't call it 'perfect loyalty'. I let you run around, as the letter says, wreaking havoc wherever you wanted. For a good while, too."

"Point enough," Light intervened. "Realistically, if we want to live on through what's to come, we need more ponies. And I can tell you full well, Anthearea," He pointed, "that I have no love for changelings, but only in the same way you probably have no love for us."

Gander threw his hooves in the air in a show of defeat. "Whatever."

"Gander?" Light stared at him. Hard. "Who do you think you are acting like that?"

"What?" His response came in the form of an accused look, confused and slightly hurt. "Am I not allowed a say in all this?"

"To be honest – not really," he flippantly replied. "It's my party, and I'm not having you acting like this!"

"Right. Well, I apologise." Gander was still frowning, a little unsure about what he had done that had provoked him like this. He still wore a look of 'I'm right and you know it', but subdued it with another bite of his food.

Anthearea just watched, still rather occupied with the cigar in her hooves. She seemed fairly entertained by the outburst, looking more as if she was watching a play than her two friends getting into a mild shouting match.

Light straightened up, looking over at Roly, who was half-way into pouring her most recent of a number of glasses of wine that he had lost track of. Between four and six, he decided. Untroubled, he looked over to the governor, "Apologies. Gander isn't terribly trusting. Can't blame the lad, though."

She nodded with a look of indifference, finishing off her food. "I understand, honestly. If I were you, I wouldn't trust me either."

Light gave a smile, something which only seemed to bother Gander further as he watched from the side, still reeling from another random telling-off from a pony that said he loved him. Light seemed somewhere between oblivious and unbothered by this.

"No, but I can vouch for her, honestly," Light added, turning to Gander. "Lot of times they saved us from V.O.P.S. it would seem. Not to mention, those em-pees at all our marches haven't exactly been out of love for keeping order, have they?"

Gander half-heartedly shrugged, more or less resigned on his position of the issue now. "I suppose."

"Besides," she smirked, preparing to transition to her big deal. "I can make sure the garrisons are strangely lighter than usual, even though the stockpiles here are so very rich." This prompted a sly smirk, eyes darting across the table. "You've secured some deals with the industrialists, I trust? You could find yourself in very fortunate circumstances, by some strange chance."

The wink wasn't necessary, but it was certainly added. 

Light didn't know what to say, turning to look at his two senior officials with a grin. "We got to take our opportunities, everypony."

Roly raised her eyebrows, sufficiently impressed. "I'm no big participant in this whole war bidding, but if it can make our situation any less desperate." Gander gave a shrug, and a sort of once-wrong-but-acknowledging smile.

"Settled then. Well, I have no qualms offering such a helping hoof a place here. By all means. General, you said you wanted to be?" He looked over to Roly. "Oh, Roly. How irritated with that will Walkie be?"

"Quite possibly very." She spoke up, at last, also finally taking up Anthearea's offer of a cigar with a click of a borrowed lighter.

"Bucking good then. He's in charge of... some other type of soldier. I don't know. The bastard deserves it. Trigger-jumpy idiot."

"Can't you get rid of him? If you don't like him, of course." Anthearea asked, much to Gander's continuing horror. Light knew that look, knew he thought it was unfair that the changeling hadn't even been officially accepted into the party and yet was already offering the removal of another senior member. He supposed it was a fair overstep, and glared accordingly. The governor held their hooves up, dropping the issue.

“Well, back to the matter at hoof. Roly, that Diamond you know. You say he’s willing to put his full backing behind all this?”

Roly gave a smirk, finally able to express her expertise. “Of course. I’ve been chatting to him a lot about it. He knows what’s coming, and well, his words, ‘war is a profitable matter’. I’m not so sure about his stance on all of it, but he has doubts about a labour shortage when it does come.”

Anthearea looked up, a slight glimmer of unfounded hatred in her eyes as she exhaled a puff of smoke. “Lots of unicorns in Bales.”

That was more like it. That was the sort of enthusiasm Light liked to hear from his followers. Oh, how he salivated at the prospect. Power was now almost a tangible concept, and it felt good. He sat back, revelling in the glory of his own work, the cigarette burning down and nipping at his hooves slightly. Still, some semblance of politeness had prevented him from flicking it onto the floor, and so it was deposited into the ashtray.

“Perfect. Love your thinking, Anthearea. Get them out that damn library and into some actual work for once. Tartarus, they’re not gonna like it, but I reckon there’s enough spirit to get Equestria back.”

“Absolutely,” Gander added. “From what we’re looking at, party membership has soared. We’ve got a good four hundred thousand ponies actively supporting us, and it’s only going to get higher when the ‘greatest struggle’ kicks off. Truthfully, statisticians are hard to come by, so I’ve only got a small team working on any proper projections, but it’s looking good from what we’ve gotten so far.”

“Statistician does sound like a unicorn field, to be fair.”

“Not much we can do there, unless you plan to drop some new policy.”

“I’ve got a lot to do right now, it’s not at the top of my list, honestly. I’ve got my future policy all right in the old brain bank,” He tapped his head. “Real change to implement. Ah, trust me, everypony. Or, well, everycreature?” He waved a hoof, not liking the way it rolled off his tongue. “No, everypony. You’re a pony in my eyes, Anthearea.”

“Flattered you think so highly of me,” she snickered.

“But nevermind. And Gander? I got some real good material I need to talk over with you. Good stuff, promise. I can see it plastered all over Bales already.”

Gander took a sip of wine, smiling at him. “Good, good. We’ll go over it later, I’ll do what I can.”

“Good. Don’t keep you around to sit and look pretty.”

Gander laughed, pleasantly surprised by the rare half-compliment. “I can do both well enough.”

“Enough of that,” Roly groaned jokingly. “You’ll have all the time in the world to chew each other's faces off later. Deary me.”

Light winked at Gander, who now flashed a suppressed smile giddily. Probably, Light discerned, finally content with the attention.

“No, but seriously. That, ‘would you like to see Equestria rule again’ business? Nothing on what I have planned now. Oh, they’ll eat it up, I tell you. I’ve already got it all mapped out in my head. I’m gonna ask ‘em, right, ‘You want to see the fruits of harmony? Go and see them; let the changelings answer your question.’ They’ll love it.”

Gander nodded his head, going along with it. “Alright, I can work with that, that’s good. But, go and see what? Are we saying the changelings are a product of harmony?”

“No, you idiot. I’m saying harmony’s why they’re ruling over us.”

Gander straightened. “Oh, right. No, I get it now. Just trying to iron it out.”

“Well, my friends,” Anthearea announced, “I should be on my way. I wouldn’t like to keep my acquaintances waiting. It would seem like I’m about to have a lot to do.” There was a prideful smile across her face. From what Light could tell, it was genuine – it seemed like they really did have a desire to get away from the burden of governance. With a clack, her little box of cigars was closed, being stuffed back into a small bag at her side.

It was a shame, in a way. She had been a good governor. It had only been through the exceedingly lucky circumstance of her appointment that decade ago that had allowed the worms to survive and balloon into the behemoth of a fascist group that it had. Whilst it still was a long way from the mass-scale adoration of the E.L.F, and the drivel they were promising of life somehow ‘returning’ to the way it was before the Great War.

Nonsense, absolute rubbish. Besides, Light liked the way things were twisting. Equestria had needed a catalyst, some little blip in its history to give the push it needed to finally change things.

But not just change them – change them in his design.

“It’s been wonderful having you over, governor.” Light got to his hooves, ready to bid them farewell on the walk to the doorway. Gander, the ever-loyal pony he was, stood quickly to do the same.

Roly stood, walking over to the changeling, and giving them a quick hug, a gesture that Anthearea hesitantly returned.

“Oh, do come again soon, Anthea, you’re wonderful company. Do get home safe!” she trilled.

“Thank you, thank you.” Anthearea stood, making her way to the door, shortly followed by Light and Gander. As she set a hoof out of the door, she turned, lowering her voice to a hush. “I didn’t want to say it at the table, since I know Roly wouldn’t like it, but my final… request, if you will.”

There was a serious look upon her face, the kind that that conveyed urgency. “Get Talkie under control. Now. He’s a dangerous stallion, Light. V.O.P.S. doesn’t like him very well.”

With that, and without waiting for a word more in response, she left for the car that was waiting for her.