XV
Trickle-Down Tactics
XV
Trickle-Down Tactics
Penitentiary Institution Haaglanden, The Hague
ICC Detention Centre
19. November, 2015
10:12 am MET
„Here endeth the lesson, boy.“ the warden sneered.
The aged man in the dark blue uniform with the black leather belt strapped across his chest circled the prisoner in the grimy overall like a lion a wounded gazelle, playing with a nightstick as though it was a riding crop.
The cell tract was dim, only illuminated by some sparse sun rays beaming through ceiling windows high above.
“Y'all thought this here prison was goin' to be like the Ritz in Uptown Baton Rouge. With the belles and the ballrooms and the layer cake. I'm mighty glad I could help clear up this... miss-app-re-hen-shun.”
The prisoner pouted bravely, the chains on his hands jingling defiantly.
“It's lovely.” he snarked.
The senior jailer's mouth almost bit off the newly anointed jailbird's ear as he hissed,
“You'll learn to love it soon enough, boy.”
“You don't scare me. I know your little game may be enough to keep Cell Block C in check, but I know my rights.”
He puffed out his chest proudly, “According to the Eighth Amendment of the United States Constitution, you cannot cow your inmates into doing your bidding by way of excessive violence-”
The truncheon flew in so fast he didn't even see it coming. Contorting in pain, the prisoner grabbed his battered stomach and sank on his knees, coughing uglily.
“A well-read con. Well I'll be a monkey's uncle.”
In a display of cruel feigned pity, the warden knelt down next to the suffering inmate, taking off his peaked cap and caressing his own balding forehead. “See son, you got this here situation all wrong. Lemme re-it-er-rate: Uncle Roosevelt can’t hear you in here. This ain't the United States of America no more. Hell, this ain't even the great State of Louisiana no more. This is the Lynch County Reformatory you're now residin' in.”
The prisoner could only pant, both in anger and horror in equal accord.
“And inside the Lynch County Reformatory, I am your elected representative. I am the Governor. I am the President of the United States of god-damn America. And sometimes – just sometimes – I am your Lord and Savior Jesus H. Christ. Got it?”
The prisoner said nothing. He just closed his eyes.
“Good boy.”
Then the warden jumped back up, and dragged the prisoner along with the tip of his nightstick. “Now let's get yer PJs ready and introduce you to your new neighbour, one well-known gentleman goin' by the name of Brutus. P. Slaughtery. I heard he's just dying to say, howdy."
And as the prisoner shuffled down the long corridor towards his new home, the warden threw his last regards after him.
"Oh. And welcome to Hell.”
“Wow.” the Changeling queen remarked, deeply immersed by the goings-on in front of her, and sunk deeper into her couch. “How heinous.”
“I’m sorry, your Highness…“ she heard her 'worm' whisper impertinently, rising out of his nearby armchair and leaning over to her, “Wasn’t there something important you wanted to tell me-”
With a weighty “Shh!” the regent silenced him, “All in good time, worm. Now shut up.”
The lean, balding monkey just sniffed impatiently and glanced the other way.
She couldn't resist to have her own eyes dart around the place for just an instant.
This room could only be described as a holding cell mimicking a plain living quarter. There still were the bars at the windows and a uniformed overseer sitting in the corner, his barrelled weapon resting on its incessantly tapping knees, but the rest of the room looked surprisingly quaint for a place of imprisonment and redemption.
One corner of the room had – perhaps by typical human ineptitude – been modelled like a kitchen, complete with tiles and iron sinks and vittles stacked on shelves.
A human wearing a different kind of garb stood in that corner, pouring himself a foul-looking beverage into a glass cup. And as he did, he kept glancing over his shoulders and giving the Changeling regent weird looks.
She would have loved to order him to direct his eyes back into the corner, but the look of absolute dread on his face just amused her too much.
Chewing her lips, she looked back over to the windows by the locked security doors. There stood two other humans, lanky and exceedingly hairless, their clothes identical to the one stuck in the 'kitchen', leaning by the wall with their limbs folded, seemingly chatting. They too were giving her stolen glances every other second, but at least they had the good sense to immediately hide them away when their eyes met hers.
The last of them was a plump fat male, resting on a sofa next to her, eyes closed, maw unconsciously agape, and a garishly colourful magazine covering his swollen belly.
She had been told that they also were imprisoned in these walls – but much like said walls, they did not much in the way of reminding her of a proper Equestrian prison.
The lawyer glanced back at her and the action taking place behind the tiny glass screen.
“I still wonder who allowed this to be shown here.” he remarked, an annoyed tinge in his throat, “Can't be good for prison morale.”
“Is this real?” she inquired, not entirely sure.
“What, that? Oh no no. It's not real.”
He seemed genuinely engaged as he tried to find a way to explain, “It's all just... make-believe. They're pretending. You know?”
The Queen glanced at him like at a madcolt.
“So... what you mean to say is, it's theatre.”
His eyebrows flew up as he nodded.
“Well... essentially, yes.
“Well why didn't you just say that?” the changeling asked suspiciously.
The human fell silent, and a few seconds later, gave an innocent shrug.
“I didn't spend my entire life in a cave, you know. I know what theatre is!” she stated the painfully obvious, her voice thick with sassy lordliness.
Those silly little, but ever-so grating misconceptions!
“Why wouldn't I know what theatre is? That makes no sense. It's not a difficult concept to comprehend.”
She back-pedaled for a trice. “Do you know what theatre is, worm?”
He sighed.
“The thing is, your Highness, I'm still... struggling to comprehend what a changeling is used to and what not.”
“A changeling's used to everything. That's why they're Changelings.” she dully explained.
There was another considerate pause. “So... does that mean they are just playing for us?”
“...No.”
Now there was something of a thick smug smirk of his own on his human lips, “Television is public. Anyone who has a set can see what we see.”
“That... explains a few things.”
A hint of embarrassment seemed to cross the changeling's mind as she crunched her teeth.
And so the sovereign laid her head on the sofa's armrest. She was slipping in deep thought.
“Who's meant to be the hero of the story?” she inquired suddenly, “The warden or the prisoner?”
Confused, the lawyer pursed his lips.
“You can’t tell?”
“I'm still struggling to comprehend what a human's used to and what not.” she commented sarcastically. “For all I know, the nightstick could be the hero...”
A seemingly disapproving sigh escaped his lips.
“Go on. Enlighten me as to what humankind considers heroic.”
“Well...” the human began. He made sure to read the changeling's reaction before continuing. “The warden is the villain, because he is obviously a power-hungry maniac who likes hitting people who don't agree with him being power-hungry. The other guy must be the hero.”
The changeling nodded slowly, then gave a sigh of her own.
“As was to be expected.”
He didn't know what he should take from the comment.
Was he hearing sign of remorse? Was he sensing scorn? Or was the Queen just completely delusional?
She observed him as he intently scanned her face.
Only when he noticed her unamused countenance he backed off, his embarrassment obvious.
“Exactly how badly do you think of me , worm?” she confronted him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Innocent as a schoolboy, he shrugged.
“I’m not thinking badly of you. I’m struggling to think anything of you yet at this time.”
“You're lying through your teeth, you snivelling little git.” the Queen spat, “I can feel you quivering from over here.”
“D-did I say something wrong?”
“Not just what you said, but the way you're gawking at me. Judging. Trying to read guilt off my face.” she mumbled. “You let the ponies bend your ear? Fill your head with ponytales?”
The lawyer looked aghast.
Stringently, he propped himself up on her couch and glared down at her.
“With all due respect… Not an hour ago, I had to listen to you boast about how you rubbed out an entire city state. Excuse me for not immediately assuming that an abusive captor wouldn't be your idea of heroic ethos.”
She responded with a hoarse hyena’s laugh and glancing back up at him.
“Do you narrow-minded birdbrain honestly think the sacking of Trot was the end of the story?”
“Well, I was certainly hoping that it wasn't. However, yes, that was the impression you left.”
The Queen rubbed her eyes. She was still unaccustomed to the flickering of the images in front of her, but his incessant babbling didn't help any.
“Are we perhaps going to talk about it at some point?”
She rose on her feet and stretched her hunched back with a deep vibrant caw from the very back of her throat.
“Why don’t you want to talk about it?” he inquired on, more reproachfully. “Does it shame you? Does it abhor you?”
“Worm... Shut your mouth and sit your scrawny human rump down.”
Hands on his hips, the lawyer glared at her long and hard, painfully aware of the only other nearby seat being occupied by some sleeping former warlord.
“Where?”
A cheeky smile warmed the changeling's face as she scooched slightly further away from the edge of her sofa, opening a narrow bit of cushion by her vested belly for the lawyer to sit.
But Estermann stood his ground. He contemplated the seat, too small and too damn uncomfortably close to the feral changeling creature.
That smile of hers was terrifying on its own. It was so foreign to him that he could read neither malice nor deceit off it.
“I know, I know.” she sighed. “My selflessness surprises me as much as you.”
He bit the bullet and quickly plopped down by her side.
“Good boy.”
Even though he was easily in striking distance of her swift and deadly fangs, the lawyer didn’t intend to let go off the subject at hand.
He braced himself for confrontation.
“Is it... another defeat you’re trying to hush up? In that case... you’d be best advised to overcome your ego once and for all. In the Hague, you learn to count your defeats like they were blessings.”
“Worm.”
The warmth of her barrel warmed his back.
“Yes?”
Calm as a clam, her head inspected his from the side.
“Tell me, have you ever set hoof up close to a live volcano?”
“What do you...”
The question was strange, but confidence flowed through the lawyer. “Ehm… I did visit Mount Vesuvius once. A school trip, eighth grade geography… but it hadn’t been active for half a century or so.”
“So I thought.” the changeling slurred, then grinned slightly. “Do you know how I could tell?”
Uncomfortably, the lawyer glanced on his closed laptop and folded his hands.
Then, in a brief instance of chains rustling, he felt one of the changeling’s long cold hooves curling around him and sliding onto his folded fingers.
He couldn’t help but flinch in a brief fit of absolute panic.
“You humans are so… delicate. Have I ever mentioned that?”
The lawyer almost didn’t answer, staring alertly the hole-ridden horse’s toe resting square on his lap.
“Pardon?”
She chuckled.
“You know, there was a time I thought the ponies were frail. Tender, clueless bundles of soft flesh and silky fur. But that was before I came across you lot.”
With the thin tip, she she began driving little circles on the back of Estermann’s right hand, gently pulling his pale skin along, creating wave-like creases.
The sensation was anything but therapeutic, though.
“As you know, upon my arrival in this land, I had the privilege to… suss you humans out from up close.” The changeling’s lips folded inward as she shook her head. “I was almost shocked at how frail you were, how easily you… broke. The only thing keeping these innards from spilling and those bones from snapping is this pink, naked flesh.”
Was she threatening him?
Estermann had heard enough. He tried to pull his hands – and by extension, the rest of his body – out of her reach - but she held him back firmly.
“Which is impressive… for a fellow predator.”
“Thank you.” he harrumphed. “Please give me back my hand now.”
Her hoof let go of him, only to twist itself around until it rested on him upside down - almost as if she was offering him an open palm.
“Now go ahead. Feel mine. Tell me if you notice anything.”
Hesitantly, and as impersonally as possible, he lowered two of his fingers onto the changeling regents hoof, and swept across it probingly.
Just like he had expected, her surface was thick and leathery, but surprisingly smooth and covered with countless tiny hairs, almost invisible to the human eye.
As he moved up her leg, the pounding warmth of her body became more apparent under all the porous keratin.
Suddenly, the pointed end of her hoof dug gently into the lawyer’s unexpected palm.
“The trouble with your condition is that, if you gazed into a volcano, you wouldn’t have the milky flesh that you do now. If you were up close enough to see the single bubbles boiling up in the lava, you would also be close enough for it to burn the flesh straight off your bones.”
More and more, he felt her hooves curl around him, pressing him closer against her.
“Is this in any way way relevant to Trot?” the increasingly nervous attorney persisted.
The changeling briefly shut her eyes and took in a whiff of fresh air.
“Tell me what my skin feels like.”
“It’s… thick.” he answered. “Very… sturdy. Please let-”
“This Changeling’s a hardy creature.” she sighed, and inspected the room anew.
“All of this... your world. This prison. The meals. These chains. They're nothing. Nothing at all.”
“I'd imagine... you've been through worse.”
Another hoarse cackle.
“No, you cannot. You think that you might, but you have literally no idea. And, looking at your fragile composure, one might think it's better this way.”
And suddenly, it was almost as if she couldn’t hold it any longer. As if she could no longer stall her long-overdue story. As reluctant as she first seemed, the pain of withholding it seemed to hurt more.
“We had collected our copious amounts of loot and our long lines of new slaves. We were about pack up and move out, ready to put what was left of that measly town to the torch. I decided to stay behind to ensure that even the last of my children would fly back to the Crystal Mountains in order.”
As he heard her lapsing back into her narrating self, Estermann became so overjoyed that, fueled by vim and vigour, he rammed open his laptop and, with the push of one standby button, picked his minutes back up where he had left off earlier.
The Queen’s hooves around his waist were momentarily forgotten.
“We were down to a rear guard of three thousand… when it happened. When she came.”
“Who came?”
“From one moment to the next, swarms of golden helmets began to shimmer on the hillsides and cliffs surrounding the town. The Royal Guard had reached the scene and decided to confront us.”
Now it slowly dawned upon the jurist what had happened.
“Celestia!”
“Who else.” the changeling slurred.
“What did she do?”
A telling pause.
“Did she defeat you?” the lawyer guessed.
Chrysalis felt triggered. Her nose flared audibly.
“You don't get it, do you? They were too late. The city was at our command. We had already won, and they had already lost!”
The lawyer only raised his eyebrows and expectantly leaned further into her coil.
“Listen.” she hissed. “It wasn't the assorted might of the Equestrian Guard that tore victory from our hooves.
Ah, so she did lose.
Another blessing.
Estermann couldn't resist gaining a respectful distance from her face and contemplating the queen from a little further away.
He saw the changeling gulp, suddenly rather more distressed-looking, frantic even. Her face looked even more sour than it had barely two hours ago in the gym.
A barely courageous, deeply melancholic smile filled her muzzle as she declared,
“Let me give you something to write down. And you'd be best advised to keep it in the back of your head. Never forget it.”
He had just witnessed the Queen squeeze more emotions out of herself than in the last two days.
Cowed, the jurist swept across his laptop in preparation.
“I’m ready.”
The changeling's angered breathing slowly subsumed.
“I was about to command a few of my best to wipe the cliff-tops while the others held the walls. Yet no one had accounted for so-called Princess Celestia, who had also assumed personal command of her army of goons.”
The lawyer noticed how Chrysalis unconsciously began to exercise one of her hooves next to him as she spoke on, pawing deeper and deeper into his belly.
But he minded other things.
“I don't know exactly what happened then… what she did... but all of a sudden, there was a loud and clear voice... singing into the onsetting dusk, falling over the whole valley. Some ancient tune from a long-gone era.”
She paused. “Next thing I know, all my airborne children just... dropped out of the sky. Just like that. As if someone had just ripped their wings out of them.”
He shuddered.
“Jesus.”
Her neck lunged forward as the memories livened up.
“I wanted to fly to them and see what the hay was going on. But I couldn't.”
“Your wings too?”
She drew a breath.
“Not just my wings. My legs.”
Then the queen raised her hoof and held it into the lawyer's face. “What do you think I felt?”
Uncertain, the lawyer moved his face away from it.
“Agony?”
Again, she quipped a smile.
“No, no, no. Pain is a thing I can handle pretty well. You see that thing you put upon my horn? That... pathetic little bag on the string?”
Estermann peered up at the increasingly battered, but still tightly attached foil and battery wrapped around her magical appendage as she helpfully pointed it out to him.
“I know this is what that keeps rendering my horn useless. I don't know how, but it sears my head every time I have tried.”
She smiled a nearly psychotic grin. “It's painful - but at least I can make sure my horn's still there.”
Her gaze hardened. “But there, my legs felt no burning, no searing, no crushing... not the snow under my hooves, nor the wind blowing across my knees... Nothing.”
His face contorted in macabre confusion.
“You think it had something to do with the singing?”
“It had everything to do with the singing!” she declared audibly, causing a few heads to turn. “The tune, it was some old charm that was meant to put all who were supposed to hear it under its spell. The moment it hits your ear, you're helpless, at the singer's will. And this day, Celestia had chosen to use it to rob every single changeling in that city of their bodies. Three thousand of my children, paralysed by this immense power.”
The human lowered the lid of his laptop a little and raised his head in obvious disbelief.
How on earth would that work?
“I tried to run, but my hooves wouldn't obey me. I was a puppet on a string. And with all my own vast magic, I could do nothing against it but sit and listen to that.. blasted song!”
Her hoof curled back up. “With a flick of her horn, my hooves began to take me forward. I wanted to resist, but as soon as I tried to move in any other direction, they would immediately go limp.”
A desperate sigh escaped her lips. “Suddenly, there she stood. Just cantering into the city in all her pompous battle armour, her neck adorned with all kinds of magically charged jewellery. Magic was dripping from her lips as she finished her wretched chant. My knees gave out from under me, and I fell on my haunches right in front of her!”
“What on earth was going on?”
The changeling loosened her grasp of the lawyer and lifted herself up from the sofa a few inches, engaged by her stream of memories.
“The alicorn crept up to my ear. 'Oh, poor changeling...' she whispered, 'You brought your brood to the wrong pony's doorstep. I think it's time that I send you back where you once spawned.' I wanted to answer, but my mouth refused to open. She gave me a slap on my flank and sent me hurtling towards her own ranks as they streamed through the undefended gates. They surrounded all of us. Started to herd us.”
'The irony', Estermann sighed, 'the cruel irony of it all.'
Could she see it? Was she aware?
Did she care?
“After that was over, Celestia turned back to me, and lifted her spell off my mouth. Sneering, she ordered me to command my children to get moving – they were going to take us somewhere else. I told her she could go and kiss her own flank. She warned me that if I wouldn't, her grunts would take care of them then and there.”
Then the Queen fell silent.
“And what did you do?”
She compressed her brow. When she looked back up, there was a feral gleam in her eyes.
“Before I tell you and you can let off another half-baked comment on it, I want you to understand the following:” she whispered. “My hatchlings' existence is worth more to me than yours, or Celestia's, or anypony else's. If there was a choice between saving my brood's lives and burning the entire Equestrian landmass to a burning crisp, I would gladly give fire.”
He nodded warily.
“That means that you... complied with Celestia's demand?”
“I was biding my time to shake off her spell and regain control. I ordered my children not to resist the magic as it pushed us out of Trot and onto the road. Southbound. Not back north, as I was secretly hoping. She wasn't going to merely expel us or exile us. She wasn't quite done with us.”
Indeed, now the information began to flow back freely into Estermann’s mind. Lyra had mentioned all of it, of course! The defeat, the capture,... the banishment.
“Right. And then, I assume she placed you under arrest?” he guessed.
“In a way.” she slurred, cryptically. “She had us march up Old Palm Mountain. You know why they call it that?”
The lawyer shrugged.
“Not due to the plant life, I presume.”
“No.” she smiled, not yet sitting comfortably. “But when it last erupted, fire and rocks were blasted so far into the sky that, for months, the horizon was painted like what could only be described as an enormous palm crown made of black ash.”
“I see. Then what?”
The changeling’s jaws froze up.
“Then what. Indeed.”
The lawyer's features sagged immediately. His heart misgave him. He had a bad feeling about where the story was leading him.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. On we were marched, up and up and up... where no weeds were blowing and no grass was growing... and then there came the end of the road. It was like mounting the edge of the world... and behind the end, there was nothing but foul gases filling the space between a sea of liquid fire and a sunless sky of clouds.”
Worried, the lawyer closed the lid of his computer.
“Please don't tell me that what happened is what I think happened. .”
His features deflated, sagging. He didn’t even notice anymore how, bereft of power and wariness, he slumped against the changeling’s pounding body.
Only now he felt how her breath was getting heavier. His own lungs started acting up in accord.
The changeling's eyes flapped shut.
“And then there was the heat. The terrible heat. With every step we took towards the mouth, the air became less bearable. Even the pony soldiers that supervised us stopped one by one, unable to cope with the fumes. But Celestia was there to eagerly drive us forward.”
Mournfully, she smiled. “As we reached the edge, she swung by my ear one last time, and told me, 'from a cavern you all once came. And now you will lead your children back into one. Let this be your home for the next one hundred years, changeling. If I return, you shall be forgiven, maybe.”
The monarch proceeded to gawk down at her hooves, still curling around the lawyer’s side. They shuffled away uncomfortably from an invisible abyss that was the edge of the sofa, her eyes teared from swathes of immaterial smoke.
“I don't think I had yet realised in what absolutely futile situation we were brought into. No retreat, no evasion, not even begging for forgiveness. Just your imminent demise.”
“That was no imprisonment.” the lawyer stated what was now painfully obvious, the contempt in his voice being audible. “That was an execution.”
“Call it what you fancy.” she whispered. “Celestia shoved me into that crater personally. My children... went right after me... Whether they too were pushed, or just jumped after me out of desperation, I don't know. I was lucky, fell onto a pile of rocks sticking out of the red-hot sea. Many others missed them.”
Estermann held his breath. Even his fingers held their position on the keyboard.
“I read that...” he suddenly remembered. “...that you were detained. You were imprisoned… in a mountainside. That’s what stood there.”
Her head turned back toward the still-running, muted TV. The film had moved on, there was a scene of dozens of prisoners exercising in the courtyard, performing synchronised jumping-jacks under the watchful eyes of armed guards in the towers above.
Again, she had to crack a quivering smile. “Imagine,” she ordered the lawyer, “all of those poor creatures melting where they stand, bursting into flames, curling up as they char. All in front of your very eyes. The sight, the sound, the smell...”
Inspecting the images some more, he watched the prisoners heaving, sweating, joking and chatting under their strained breaths.
He conceded the point immediately.
Thank God, he told himself, he had not listened to the Pony equinologist. Thank God he didn’t heed Colm. Would he have surrendered Chrysalis into hooves of a pony that would do a thing like that?
It felt both relieving and horrifying to hear his fears being confirmed.
“How many died?” he asked, for the record..
Chrysalis shrugged.
'Not a pea-counter?', Estermann mused.
“Did they say how long I was... 'imprisoned'?” she asked back.
“Not that I know of.” he mumbled. “How long?”
The changeling shook her head.
“That’s the thing, I don't know. When the last one of us had been chucked down, they… I guess they loosened crater's edge and buried us under the collapsing mountain peak. It could have been days. Could have been months. Years.”
He chortled cynically.
“And yet you survived?”
The question seemed to genuinely stump her. He eyes were round and innocently quizzical.
“Well... the next time I felt the sun again, there was not a single hair left on my body. I couldn't see. I had no more skin. Just a crust. But I was breathing, and my heart was beating... so I suppose I was. This changeling’s a hardy creature.”
Spine-first, his body took in all the different sensations that were acting out inside her as he rested limply against the equine, suspended in some kind of light, shock-induced trance.
He felt the growing heat inside her, the pounding of her heart, the heavy heaving of her lungs, and the ever-present vibration that was spreading down to the very tips of her limbs.
“Funny. I hated Celestia before; I had always hated her. But after I dragged myself out of that crater by the tips of my wings… I didn’t. Not anymore. I was just, all of a sudden, convinced beyond a doubt in my mind, that Celestia - and her whole pathetic empire - was simply not to exist any longer. It was clear as day to me. A glimpse into the future.”
Then her belly erupted.
She broke out in head-shaking chuckles.
Again, confused heads stared into her television corner.
Estermann himself was aghast. Once more, there she was, laughing to herself, as though she was suddenly oblivious to the suffering and pain of her own.
But still, the counsel could see that, even as she giggled and grunted oh so callously, she was gritting the teeth in her mouth - biting down hard enough that he could hear painful gnashing sounds.
Eventually, her rident muscle subsided, and she loosened her jaws and breathed the last ounce of supposed elation out of her innards.
“So what now, lawyer?” she inquired, more matter-of-factly than before, “What would your honourable court have to say to that kind of story?”
“What indeed.”
Had she actually acknowledged him as a lawyer rather than an insect just now?
Did that mean that things were finally starting to look up?
“This is the first time I’ve heard of this. I doubt the court will have heard it either.”
“Do you not believe me?”
“Of course I believe you!”
She let out a slow breath.
“Then it is about time that you wised up. Eject your collective muzzles from gentle old Celestia’s keister.” she suggested. “You all can’t see the closet for all the bones.”
The lawyer could only nod.
“What you have just described is… murder. Wilful killings of surrendered combatants... Deliberate causing of great suffering and harm.... And - at the very least! - the deprivation of prisoners of the possibility of a fair trial...”
Glumly, the changeling eyed her defence counsel.
“That’s it?”
“What?”
He was incredulous. “Is that not enough?”
She directed the incredulity right back at him. Her green eyes beamed even greener.
“The other day, you were taking hours reading offences back to me over pushing around a couple of no-good pony sloths and making them work for the good of my hive, and here you… you just shrug away the slaughter of my children as though Celestia treated them a smidge too harshly?!”
Nervously, he scratched his own fingers as he tried to formulate a reply.
“It’s more than enough to get her in front of this court...”
She held her breath.
“Are you serious? You mean… you could go to your court and tell them what I told you… and they would actually accuse Celestia?”
“Theoretically.” he shrugged, choosing his words very delicately. “If I go to the prosecution, and convey your account - and it turns out to be well-founded - they might take the reins. And to that end, they could indeed summon Celestia to court.”
“What if she ignores the summons?”
“They might put her name on an international arrest warrant.”
“Aha.”
The nigh-joyful anticipation on the regents face became increasingly palpable.
The jurist, however, followed up with an uneasy harrumph.
“But… I won’t do that.”
Chrysalis did a double take and clamped her jaw shut.
“What did you just say?”
He cleared his throat before explaining himself.
“Your account is beyond chilling. But two wrongs do not a right make.”
“W...what are you talking about?”
He massaged his own hands.
“You razed a city. You carted off tens of thousands of hostages. You killed God knows how many more. And that was just on a single day. And telling a sob story about the evils of Celestia’s own reign at this point… would sound not just hypocritical… but frivolous as hell.”
He leaned forward - triying to stand up, but the Queen’s hooves still holding him back - and placed himself himself demonstratively between the Queen and her television. "So before I do anything to haul Celestia in, I need to get you out. Whatever happened there, in Equestria, we must gain as much distance from it as possible in the little time we have left."
“You have to be kidding me.” Chrysalis declared nervously, quickly glancing towards the far-away clouds outside. "I hope by 'gaining distance' you mean that you break me out of this hole."
"I have been concerned for the past few hours in which light we might be able to project Trot.” he explained as he began to pace back and forth in front of the changeling. “The real question - des Pudels Kern - being: Who was in charge?"
"I was." the Queen immediately interjected with a monotone voice.
Estermann raised a hand to quiet her down.
"De jure, maybe. But de facto?"
He gave an uplifting smile.
"You're speaking in riddles, worm." the changeling regent breathed.
"You see, I must ask, how difficult must it be hold all of your troops on a leash amidst the commotion? It's not possible that you were personally overseeing the actions of all your soldiers. There must have been officers."
"So what?"
"Let us talk for a moment about the hierarchy of your queendom. I want to go into detail of how exactly the orders were transferred to those who actually carried them out.
He clasped his hands, “Do you know the kids’ game 'Chinese Whispers'?"
Chrysalis cocked an eyebrow, "I do not."
"One player whispers a message to the player next to him, and he passes it on to the next player in the same fashion. Once it's passed down the line to the very end, it usually been warped beyond recognition because every kid understood it a little differently and those misunderstandings compounded."
He formed a triangular shape with his fingers. "I suspect there is a very similar case here. Imagine that this is a pyramid. You order something, but how the orders are carried out as they trickle down the sides, is an entirely different story altogether."
He shrugged. "Those things happen."
"They don't under my command."
"That's what you're saying. But let's be realistic here."
He directed her attention at the upper corner of the 'pyramid', "This is you. You are at the very top of the chain of command, throning above all others. No one is above you. Would you say that is accurate?"
The Queen erected her head and puffed out her leathery chest a little.
"Quite."
He marked the area immediately below the tip. "I am interested in this class in particular: the officers. Who did you pass your orders to in person?"
But Chrysalis remained stubborn.
"I gave the orders. That is what counts. This is all you need to know."
Estermann adjusted his seating. She was tossing quite a few boulders onto his path.
"Many years have passed since that attack. Almost one thousand, if I recall correctly. I mean, who could still be found who can recall your exact words?"
"Me." the Queen answered, in an increasingly annoyed tone.
"Alright. So what were they?"
Dramatically, the Queen raised a hoof and tucked it under the jurist’s chin. Then she directed his face on front of hers.
"’Fly forth, my children! Bring them to me. Make them my slaves!’"
It left the lawyer a bit speechless, but he recuperated and led the hoof away..
"Are you really sure? One thousand years are rather a long time-"
"I remember as though it was yesterday.."
"Think again, your Highness. Consider what else you might have said. I mean, you are..."
Estermann began to play with the buttons of his collar shirt. The lawyer had to come up with something first. "...a regent with a very dry sense of humour. You lead your troops into Trot. You see the ponies around you gawking, and the emperor refusing your rather generous request of surrender.
“Annoyed and bemused, you comment to your troops, in an entirely light-hearted manner, 'Those creatures, they all ought to be yoked'. It's a crude joke, the result of pessimism, stress and starvation,which has plagued since you left the hive in search for food. Your officers hear this, but they are itching for a fight, and they take it much more seriously than you had intended.
“As you are occupied with negotiating with the emperor, your troops start overrunning the onlooking ponies behind your back. You notice this, but it's too late. You cannot stop what is being committed all around. The soldiers do not heed your words in the chaos. Your forces have gone rogue, believing themselves to be acting in your name, but in fact aren't."
He rubbed his hands, pleased. "And this might be all there is to the tragedy of Trot, 21 ad. A cavalcade of misunderstandings leading up to an act of capriciousness."
The changeling laid a hoof over her heart.
"My my, worm. Why, it's almost like you were there yourself."
The lawyer gave a smirk and tugged his collar.
The regent's smile disappeared from her lips.
"Oh. Pardon my dry sense of humour."
His smile faded away as quickly.
"It's an amusing story - but that's all it is. I don’t understand how you can believe that you know what you are talking about.”
"Your Highness! Do you want to go prison? I mean, I couldn't blame you – it is rather generously stocked - but-"
Chrysalis sighed at the question.
"No, I do not want to go to the prison." she stated, in a patronising, eye-rolling tone. “I want to sit where Celestia is sitting. And I want Celestia to be buried where I am sitting right now!”
In a moment’s notice, Estermann grabbed both the Queen’s hooves and uncurled them from his body. Then he catapulted himself out of his seat and onto his own two feet again.
As soon as he had regained his composure and sourly looked back down at the monarch, spotting her now empty limbs, did he first realise how clingy she had been for the past few minutes.
Like a snake curling around its prey, that changeling had been trying to ensnare him as he oh-so foolishly sat down by her side.
Why on earth didn’t he object? Why did he say nothing?
He was usually so touchy about this kind of stuff.
"Why... then why are you so adamant?" he begged the question, "Why are you persisting that you are solely responsible for this mess? You will get life if you are sentenced for the abduction and the slaughter of tens of thousands of innocent creatures!"
"They were not innocent!" she yelled. She followed up with a hissed "I couldn't care less who declares me guilty of it."
"Yet, you still don't want to face the music for it?"
There, Queen stood up. Like an oversized cat, she rose on her feet and stretched her hunched back with a deep vibrant caw from the very back of her throat.
Wordlessly but resolutely, she trotted past Estermann and aimed her glance out the fortified windows. She carefully inspected the weld lines of the grate.
"I have different plans. Other things to worry about ." she murmured.
Exasperated, Estermann nodded and slumped down on his client’s now vacated couch. Her warmth was still in the material.
"You want to stand by the fact that you are responsible for this, as The Queen, but at the same time, you think you can cheat yourself out of the consequences.”
He sniffed. "I don't want to crush your hopes, Your Highness, but it's either one or the other. You must choose."
Slowly, her chained hoof pressed on the windowpane, grinding on the delicate material.
"There always is the third option. In case you forgot, I have an empire at my beck and call."
"But for how long?"
The Queen stared at him in startlement.
What... what are you asking?"
"They’re calling it a ‘rogue state’" he continued, "Once Celestia had her way with it, there will be no one left in the whole world who would bother to back you up. That, Your Highness, is the reason why we have to maneouvre you through this quickly and effectively."
“To save my kingdom?”
The Queen took another, scathing look outside at the bleak sky, and then let go of the window begrudgingly.
Estermann noticed that her two front limbs were shaking a little as she trotted.
Mindfully, he slid to the end of the couch to make space for the chipped changeling.
"Fine, worm. So you are telling me that the only thing I have left now is to cower down before those 'judges', cry crocodile tears and blame those below me, like some... half-plucked scum - all just so I won't be locked away?"
"Sincere remorse is always an option." he proposed, loaded with quite some eyebrow-rocking sarcasm, "No one would think any less of you if you did."
He played with his nose. "I could release a statement, in your name, in which you express your regret at what has passed, and obviously would not have wanted any part in it, had you known what had been going on."
"I don't feel sorry." the Queen exclaimed. "And I'm not about to pretend otherwise!"
“Please. As a mere courtesy." Estermann stammered, only to be cut off by the Queen.
"Stuff the courtesy! Don’t you dare to put those words into the Queen of all Changelings' mouth."
Estermann scanned her, his teeth creaking... And here he thought a Queen of all changelings wouldn’t have a problem with lying.
"What kind of honour are you trying to protect here? If you were to meet someone in the street tomorrow, and the only thing they know about you is that you are responsible for many thousand deaths, what would expect them to feel for you?"
"Respect and reverence." she mused.
"Instead of fear and disgust?" Estermann countered.
"I cannot deny my nature, worm."
"This is your nature?!" Estermann laughed, "Jesus Christ, you sound even worse than Celestia. You cannot justify crimes like those. Someone is going to pay for them. The pivotal question is; will it be you?"
"Who, if not me?" she muttered. “Celestia?”
He poignantly went back to his triangle.
"Your subordinates. You have the virtue of rank. The higher up you are, the more difficult it will get to link you to the execution!"
"My subordinates..." she hesitated, shaking her head disbelievingly., “I bred those subordinates. They are my flesh and blood.”
“Oh don’t be melodramatic.”
A riled-up hoof smashed down on the linoleum floor.
“What do you think I mean when I call them my children, you idiot?!"
His eyes grew.
"What… all of them? Exactly how many are there?"
"A little over six thousand. All my very own."
Estermann was at the brink of jumping up and calling her out on it, begging her not to make even more of a mockery out of the situation than it already was.
Then however, the pony professor's wasp analogy sprang to mind. It was absurd to him then, but now - he took a look at the changeling. He knew that the first time he saw her, she was remotely insectoid to him - cold, hard and voiceless. It was only now that he was thrown back into the reality of what of a creature she actually was. Franz Kafka couldn't have been more proud.
"What's the matter?" the Queen inquired, irritated by his silence, "Would you stop pretending that it's the first time you hear of something like that? We Changelings do not live the way you humans do. I think we cleared that up."
"Alright..." the lawyer conceded and sniffed. "You're talking six thousand, the prosecution is talking a hundred thousand. Who - or what - made up the bulk of your armed forces?"
"Minor hives from all over the lands. Many grunts stemmed from hives in the east in particular. They joined up with us in the early winter months, when they were already at Tartarus' doorstep. But it was just my own children that I allowed to assume power."
'So there's nepotism, of course.' Estermann thought and raised his eyebrows. "Then you know their names?"
The Queen was indignant.
"Why of course I don’t know the names of my own flesh and blood. I just gave them numbers and called it a day.”
Estermann could only groan.
"Okay, I get it. I want to write some of them down. I need a point of reference.”
“I named them in my own tongue. You wouldn't be able to comprehend it.”
“I’ll do my best to stay faithful in my transliteration.”
Elegantly, Estermann scrolled down the page. "Was there anyone among them who you considered to be... a trusty confidante? A worthy successor? A second-in-command perhaps, or a powerful rival?"
She chewed on her tongue in thought.
“A few. Though one stood out in particular.”
Then she directed a long and hard stare at him. Her glare was frank. The vibration in the back of her throat became a tiny bit more prominent.
A moment of awkward stares passed, with leaving them both none the wiser.
"Yes… there is? Your Highness? Hello?"
"What?" she snarled. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"
The lawyer cocked his head, hopelessly confused.
"I didn't... quite… I want to know his name."
She sighed, then pointed at her face.
"Again. Look at me. At my face. Read off my eyes. You thick, deaf ape."
And he did.
And as he did, for an instant, he swore could hear a voice calling in the back of his head. Shouting. Repeating a single word, three syllables long. But the voice was far away, the word sounded indistinct.
He dismissed it and scratched his ear. His senses must have been playing a trick on him, he concluded.
"Should we... should we just call him Officer A for now?" he ultimately proposed. "Is that okay with you?"
“Yes, call him whatever you want.” she grumbled.
"Now, Officer A, how would you describe him? Loyal? Faithful? Efficient?"
She gazed up at the ceiling, trying to recollect her knowledge about this individual, but then shook her head.
"No, I wouldn't. He was... a little brat. An upstart and a rebel. He thought of himself as some kind of hive king. So I gave him command of one of the Eastern hives that had joined us countless winters ago. He should go and play monarchy with them, I thought. It kept his ugly little face out of mine."
"And you didn't reprimand him?"
The Queen was silent for a moment of brief reflection.
"I did. Time and time again. But in the following years, the number of eastern changelings grew and grew. It soon became the largest single battle group of my army. And he still was their leader."
Estermann clapped his knee, perhaps a little too jovially.
"Now we are getting somewhere! Look who assumed command during the turmoil!"
But the changeling's eyes mellowed.
"...Which is exactly the reason why I left them behind in the hive on that fateful day. I cannot have any enviers on the field of battle."
Turning back to the human, she returned to her sofa in front of the television set.
As the lawyer looked after her, his clapping hand crumpled up to a fist. He huffed,
"You're not giving me much air to breathe, are you, Your Highness?."
Giving off a hoarse chuckle, she began to mount the couch to lay herself down again. The lawyer instantly readied to dive out of her way.
“Stay.“
Something compelled him to plop back down, just as she began to spread back out on the cushioning.
As she lowered her massive body back down, her front hooves tapped dangerously close to his hips.
“I see what’s going on here, alright.“ the changeling deduced, “You tried to bait me… with sordid tales of Celestia, so you can interrogate me about Trot and expect an answer.”
“And you gave me one.”
“Yes. Then you go and bait me some more. I tell you about her legacy in the mountains above Trot. You listen. You promise redemption. You want to let me hope.”
The lawyer shuffled closer.
“Yes?”
Her nostrils were still whistling.
“And you did all that, just to try and make me betray the only living creatures that depend on my loyalty… I almost fell for it, too.”
Slowly, she glanced up on him. “Shame on you. Makes me wonder whose side you are on.”
The lawyer was befuddled
“You don’t seem to get it.”
“I get it. Someone will have to pay.” she asked and shook her head ever-so slightly. “As though my hatchlings haven't already given enough of themselves all these years, you want them to pay for my...”
She stopped herself before she could get around to admitting stumbles.
Her eyes were glazing over, her lids so heavy that she was almost dragging them on cheeks.
“I am not Celestia's prosecutor.” Estermann emphasised, very slowly and loudly. “And neither am I the defender of your six thousand children. I am your defence counsel! And as your defence counsel, it is my duty to keep you from getting roped into the dock by any means necessary.”
Her hooves dug themselves between the cushions, locking herself in her own maternal mantra.
“After I saw them hatch, after I saw them fly out their nests for the first time, after I saw them fight and win… after I saw them fall into Tartarus alongside me, and saw them char...”
The lawyer desperately wiped his brow and haggled on. He almost butted heads with the changeling as he leaned down to her
“It’s… it’s not about implicating your children, your Highness. It’s about clearing your name. I could not care less if your children are any more or any less at fault for this mess than you.”
“And yet you’d gladly throw them to the dogs.”
“Ach Chabis!” he scoffed. “Equestria, the UN, not a single one of them managed to find a single changeling but you! And I doubt it will change any time soon. You said it yourself - your offspring are experts at hiding. ”
Noticing a tugging sensation, he spotted the queen’s chained legs playing with his pockets, trying to dig out any dishonesty in his words.
“And… and even if things come to the pinch, Your Highness... warrants need to be served first. How will they do that if they don't know where they are, or how they look, or whether they’re even still alive and kicking?”
He determined very quickly that he should probably have spared the Queen the last assumption.
After a hesitant pause, the changeling raised a hoof coldly against his cheek and directed his face closer to hers.
Involuntarily beholding her massive Equestrian eyes - as fatigued and docile as they were unrelenting and sore - from a needle’s distance, he was instantly overcome by a browbeat melting sensation that otherwise would have been felt by an antelope between the paws of a lioness.
”Listen.” she breathed into him, “You obviously take great pride in your tongue-twisting and pettifogging, and I realise I won’t be instructing you in your craft any time soon. But as for my kin… Should I find that, thanks to your scheming, one of them will have taken my place so that I may walk free… I will come and drag you down to Tartarus myself. Do you understand?”
He almost choked himself on his own gulps.
“Yes.”
“You will not lay a claw on them. In fact, you will treat them with utmost devotion. For I lived with them. And I died with them.”
The hoof began to slip down the side of his face in a caressing motion. “And this is why you will see them as though they are extensions of myself… And you would never want to find yourself on the wrong side of me. Would you, Alexander Estermann?”
“No… Your Highness.”
"Alright."
And with that confirmation, the Queen shoved the lawyer ever-so blandly away from herself.
The benumbed man almost fell off the sofa.
“You should go now.” she ordered him. “Get out of here, and do not show your face again today. I think I’ve relayed enough anecdotes for one day.”
Quizzically, the lawyer went straight for his tie knot and loosened it a little around his slowly reddening head.
"I - I...."
“And no.” the Changeling cut him off preemptively. “I will call you. Of that, you can be certain.”
With those words, she showed him what could be interpreted as something resembling an uplifting simper.