The snow had eased up for the day. Teams of pegasi took to the sky to rearrange weather patterns that had been months in the making, just so that the reconstruction could go unabated. Old Foamy watched impassively from the street above as work ponies and dock workers went about repairing the piers and boardwalks ruined in the aftermath of the explosion.
Ponies were scared. They had every right to be since they had all felt it. The terrible explosion that had obliterated a warehouse and reduced the fine houses of the traveling merchant class to bare skeletons. The shockwaves that had rolled out and shook the city. The terrible, awful whispering that had been louder than the roars of cannons, clawing away at the inside their ears with a cold iciness that made the skin crawl to recall.
Foamy didn't, for Foamy had been prepared. He chewed the pipe held in his lips as he thought about it. It had been necessary, and it had worked. That human had been nothing but trouble and now he was out of his mane. Plus he had taken the Equestrian dandies with him while the Viceroy's pet hounds had spirited away the poor colt at the centre of Foamy's little ruse.
He turned away and smiled. He had to be getting back. A lot of families were dispossessed and old Foamy had stepped up to provide shelter for a select few, including a few particular loudmouths who didn't know well enough to keep their muzzles shut.
All the while, little plans and machinations whirled in his old, weary brain. Come spring, he would be the richest pony in Blackport, and if he had his way, the most important pony in the eastern seas.
--=--
The unicorn fell to the ground, coughing violently. He spat up a small bit of blood that stained the cold, unforgiving stone floor, chuckling despite the pain.
"Oh come on, friends, is this any way to tr—" A kick to the barrel quickly shut him up. Ghost Writer looked down at the pitiful sight while Wind Chill stood at the back of the cell with the two black guards, watching impassively, his face impossible to make out under his hood in the already poor light. Chains rattled as Jacques shuffled to the wall to help him sit up.
"So…" Jacques managed through breaths, "I take it this isn't another social call?"
"You chose poorly, Jacques." Ghost Writer began pacing. "We knew something was up with that little stunt of yours, introducing the human to us like that. Did you honestly think we'd forgive you for working against the Viceroy?"
"I have nothing against the pony… although he does owe me quite a bit of back pay, come to thi—" Another kick and another yell of pain. "Ohhh, that’s not fun."
"This is your last chance. What do you know of the events that transpired in Blackport?" Ghost Writer's voice was still level and passive, at odds with the ease at which he came to violence.
"Not a damn thing." Ghost Writer moved to kick him again. "But! Handy does—that was all his thing, I didn't much care to question it."
"Why were you helping him?"
"Personal reasons." He put his hoof up to stop Ghost Writer. "Wait, wait! I could find out for you."
"The days of your usefulness are over, traitor."
"Aw now, don't be so harsh. It isn't all bad," Jacques said with a smile, his eyes dancing despite the bruising, the matted dirty fur, and the trickling blood. "Handy trusts me, after all. Who else do you know who can get close enough to him to find out?"
"You can't bring him to us."
"Handy wouldn't come back here for all the gold in the world now that he knows the princess wants him. He was avoiding Equestria for the exact same reason." Jacques relaxed against the wall, resisting the urge to wince in pain. "He doesn't know nor care as to why, but… I can get him to tell me everything he could possibly know about the magic being used. More so than, eh, what was that poor colt's name again? Pauvre bougre est probablement en pire état que je suis…"
Ghost Writer looked back to Wind Chill before turning back to Jacques.
"After all, did I not get you what you wanted from the deer, that and more? You know I am worth my weight in gold."
"I wouldn't say that."
"If you didn't believe it, you wouldn't be here. We wouldn't be having this lovely conversation, and I'd never see the light of day again," Jacques said with easy confidence.
"I need to report this in." Ghost spoke carefully, his voice still level but now carrying the subtle threat of small knives and what they could do to a pony under every word. "Mind you, Jacques, you will be going nowhere without somepony of my choosing tailing you."
"I'm sorry, but I work best on my own," Jacques replied with a frown, then roared in pain as Ghost put pressure down on one of his legs.
"There is no negotiation here, there is no reward, and you will do as we say. You are in no position to bargain, make demands, or to make any decisions. You cannot win here." He pressed down harder. Jacques grunted in pain, biting down to keep it in, his breath coming in hisses through clenched teeth. "Is that clear?"
Jacques looked up at Ghost with hate-filled eyes. Looking behind him to the other ponies on the far side of the cell, he saw the black guard over Wind Chill's withers. He saw the small flash of green over its eyes beneath its helmet. He looked back over at Ghost, maintaining his angry expression before, with difficulty, returning to his normally calm expression. And with a wavering voice, so convincingly like that of a stallion who knew he had been beaten but wished to save face, spoke.
"C-Crystal."
--=--
The dust of the hard earth whipped past them as they rode on the open top train car. The lumber lashed to the flat bed behind them rattled with the train's motions as she sat there, watching the hard, dry landscape of the Badlands fly by.
It was cold, but she knew that was mostly wind chill. Winter didn't hit the Badlands like it did everywhere else, for the weather here was wild and untamed. Some would say even untameable, which was why it had never been fully colonized despite being claimed by neighbouring kingdoms for centuries. Now, with rumours that changelings lived here in some secret city, many prospective settlers were reluctant to travel to the interior.
That didn't mean ponies didn't still brave the inhospitable climes. There were still settlements out here, and with settlements came trade, and with trade, fortunately, came trains.
It made a nice change of pace from traipsing across endless countryside with her erstwhile companions. They had been careful, so it had been thankfully boring by and large, although getting across the Griffonian border had been… a bit of an ordeal. Still, she had kept her cool and had not faltered. Nothing had broken her guard nor shook her from her quest, and nothing would.
However, her changeling servants might actually come close to doing just that.
"Alright, your turn," Façade said, giving Glimmer the half deck of cards they had managed to acquire. Without a full deck, they couldn't play many traditional traveling games, so they had opted to modify the rules to play a changeling game she was unfamiliar with.
The pair were in their pony disguises: brown-furred unicorns with slate grey armour, silver trim, black cloaks, and red-crested helms. They were fake, of course—stab them with a dagger and it would punch through flesh, but it was effective enough to be believable at first glance. It made her more obvious, but travelling through towns or cities was easier if you appeared to be rich and important and could afford the protection that was required. It garnered less questions than one would think.
"I fold."
"What? You can't fold! That’s not a winning hoof!"
"Ah, but you can see I have a trap card," Glimmer said, tapping an image of a Three of Hooves.
"That on its own is not enough. You don't have enough points!"
"Ah!" Glimmer crowed triumphantly, slapping down a Princess of Hearts. "But I have this. King me!"
"Yeah yeah," Façade sighed. "I guess I have no choice but to do exactly that… if I didn't have this!"
"What!?" she exclaimed, looking down at the jester. Glimmer threw her hooves up, her cards scattering across the wooden floor. Façade grabbed them in his magic before the wind whipped them away. "Where did you get a lancer!?"
"You should always pay attention to the number of cards your opponent has in their hooves. Remember the rules?"
"Reading the rules is cheating!"
"It's Riddler's Gambit. Cheating is the whole point." Crimson eyed her less than trustworthy servants from under her hood. She never understood their little foibles – none more so than regular ponies at any rate – but she had never expected changelings to be so… well, like that. She turned back and looked down at her book, muttering away as she memorized the spells there again and again. The book Master had gotten for her from before had nothing particularly new to her bar one spell, but she was reluctant to try it. Why would she ever need to make an earthquake? It seemed needlessly destructive, even if it was only small.
Then again, she might need it. After all, she was going to be walking into the den of Queen Chrysalis, and who knew how many changelings she had under her command. All Crimson had was her knowledge of old magic and two changelings she was certain were going to betray her at first opportunity, even though they now said they were of her 'she', or 'shi', or whatever that was. All she knew now was that they asked how high when she said jump and, quite frankly, that was what mattered. For now at least.
She looked back up at the desolate landscape and the whitewashed scenery to their north as the train turned around a bend. One way or another, she'd find this Chrysalis and have her release Master. Where she'd go from there…
Well, she'd just have to play it by ear, wouldn’t she? Maybe this earthquake would come in useful after all.
--=--
It had been a long, long time since she had seen Luna like this. It was surreal seeing the grown alicorn seated on her haunches, her midnight tail wrapped around her legs protectively, ears splayed back, and her face cast downwards abashedly.
Celestia had been considerate. She had waited until close of the day court, had Luna dismiss the night court, and they had met in a tower far away from prying ears or eyes. It was a special tower, not one used often, for Celestia was a wise pony who knew it did nopony any good to wonder why their princess kept going to this secluded tower so often.
But when she did, it shook.
It was constructed with a reinforced frame, designed to hold the weight of a dragon sitting atop it without collapsing, to withstand cannon blasts and hurricanes. It was the most overconstructed edifice in the entirety of Canterlot Castle, purchased out of Celestia's own pocket over the course of a century. Nopony could hear what happened within it, for the walls bore no sound to trespass beyond them. Nopony could see within, for the tower held no windows through which eyes may peer.
All except Luna, who bore witness to the full fury of Celestia venting her absolute outrage. The solar princess had been under rather a lot of stress as of late. Being the Diarch of the Day meant an inordinate amount of worries and concerns were her burden, and recent events, particularly on the border of Griffonia, had been taxing her as of late.
No matter how she poked and prodded, the nobles would not be calmed in the south. In the north, they were still alarmed at the actions of young King Johan, the usurper in her eyes. Said king simply would not respond to her missives, and his liege, the High King, could only offer vague assurances he was taking care of the situation. She was rarely powerless in a diplomatic situation like this, and it had grated on her, noticeably so. It had reached a point where it was not unheard of for her to mention simply paying a few personal visits to a choice few dukes to put her hoof on the matter, though she feared her presence along the borders might exacerbate the griffons.
And now this.
"—And the worst of it all is that you didn't think to tell me before going through with it, Luna," she said, having calmed down somewhat. The room had a bed, some simple adornments, a dresser, a mirror, and a banner of the sun. It looked quite nice if a bit sparse on a good day. It was not a good day, as it currently looked like somepony lit off several powder kegs. The room was littered with broken furniture pieces and slowly burning cloth, and the walls still resounded with the remnants of Celestia's fully raised voice.
One could imagine why Luna had adopted the position she did.
"I'm sorry, Sister, but I felt I needed to act as soon as I could. I kept your conditions!" she protested, a placating hoof held up. She was worried and had dropped her formalities. This was neither the time nor the place. "None of my guards go out without one of yours. I… protest the idea still, but I can understand the reasoning. A-And I only wanted to ensure he could solve the tensions with the griffons. I did not mean—"
"Luna," Celestia said, rubbing the base of her horn with a hoof, eyes closed. "I know you meant well, I know. I even thought it was a well thought out idea had it worked. But I still have an angry foreign Viceroy, and I need to smooth this over before word gets back to Galaxia and she uses this somehow. You know what she's like."
"Hmph." Luna lashed her tail on the ground. "I cannot understand how she became so… like that."
"A lot can change in a thousand years," Celestia said with a sigh. "And now there's Manehatten. There's this… Mistress that Handy mentioned?"
"Yes, though I do not know to whom it refers. Still, it… appears to centre on that strange magic our guards seem to encounter when the human is involved. We have found several artefacts and writings that belonged to the pony in Manehatten."
"Manehatten…" Celestia groaned. "De la Mane. I'd rather not be reminded. Go on."
"That's all I have. They're being brought to Canterlot under guard. We won't know more until we have a chance to see them." Celestia looked thoughtful at that. "And there's something else…"
"What is it?" Celestia asked, broaching the silence that lingered after Luna's words.
"They're bringing a pony. He seemed to be at the centre of it all. The human… did something to him. We don't know what."
"What do you mean?"
"He has no memories, Tia. His mind is gone." Luna’s voice was sombre. "While he was in custody in Manehatten, I entered his dreams. I saw nothing but emptiness and fear. I could not coax anything from him, to have him reveal anything. Tia, I don’t think there was anything there to reveal."
That had left them both quiet for a time, Celestia's regal mask was back on and unreadable, but Luna knew her well enough that for her to wear it while in private like this was a sign she was really disquieted over something.
"Are you sure they were not just… repressed?" she asked finally. Luna shook her head slowly.
"There'd still be something, yet in his case there was nothing. Even though he still has his cutie mark and can still speak, he does not know who he is, has no name, and none of the guard knew who he is bar one."
"Then how do we know he is involved at all?"
"Because of where he was found since the human left him there, injured and helpless amidst the arcanum we have confiscated. And while the extent of the human's involvement is as yet unknown, he wasn't the one destroying a part of Manehatten. This pony was."
"Yet nopony can even remember his name or anything about him other than anecdotal evidence and where they found him?"
"That is… correct." Luna’s voice wavered under the implications Celestia's tone raised.
"You can still track his movements. Sir Handy that is. Do you know where he is heading?"
"Yes, of course. I have the guards set to fetch after him at once. I do not know how he got out of Manehatten, but I will not let him roam across Equestria unchecked." Luna slammed her hoof down.
"Hmmm, call them off."
"W-What?" Luna was incredulous, her wings raised slightly from her sides in surprise. Celestia simply smiled.
"Hold them back, but have them follow him. Just to make sure he doesn't do anything else."
"But Sister, you cannot be serious. We cannot leave that… that hooligan to run amok."
"As I recall, Luna, doing things your way resulted in explosions and accusations of incursions by the Enclave’s Viceroy," Celestia said with a deadpan. Luna's ears flattened back against her head. "The only thing we know for sure is that we have no idea what exactly is involved, what the stakes are. We do not know what Galaxia's interest is, if the report of how the Viceroy's agents acted in Blackport is anything to go by. Honestly, between her and Rosetta… We do not know Handy's intentions or role in all of this. We do not know what this old magic is, nor do we know who this ‘Mistress’ is, and our only clue is a pony who cannot recall his own name and scraps of paper the Marquis’ mages couldn't decipher."
"What are you getting at, Sister?"
"I am suggesting we try a different approach. You have tried approaching him to talk, yes?"
"Well, yes. We could not be sure of his reaction so—"
"With the very pony he blames for his new condition?" Celestia arched a brow.
Luna looked off to the side. "She is the only one we have who knows him the best."
"None of our ponies know him well?”
"Know him at all."
"And we know where he is."
"Yes, roughly."
"Good. Then we can have our guards tail him at a distance. Let him hide, let him think he has lost our interest for the time being." Celestia saw the faint frown that briefly crossed her sister’s visage.
"Why?"
"So that he'd be more likely to head to the one place he knows he is safe, with the people he knows the best and who distrust him the least. He is only going to keep running if he is chased, and it would be preferable if, instead of forcing his hoof in this matter, we have him lead us instead."
"I don't understand. Why would letting him go back to the griffons help us in that regard?" Luna asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Because he'll only reveal anything under one of two conditions: under our hoof or on his own terms. And trying the former option has been… less than advantageous. It is time to kill two birds with one stone, if I have the old expression correct…" Luna just looked at her sister with a confused expression. Celestia merely smiled back at her sister lovingly. "This night guard under your command, the one you have taken personal stewardship over. What is her name?"
"Stellar Eclipse. She is one of my Nihensha."
"Hmm, I forgot the heptarchy had given you your old title and prerogatives back. Good to hear. May I speak with her?" Luna's ears perked up, for she did not like the sudden change into Celestia’s calm, court voice. That meant that it would be impolitic to refuse her, to say the least. Luna knew what that meant if it was some dignitary or a noble, or even a commoner who would have refused her. Celestia had never used it on her before, and she didn't know what it would mean. That, frankly, worried her more.
"I… hesitate to ask, Tia, but why?"
"Oh, merely to fulfil a small sense of curiosity I have. You will keep me informed of where he'll be moving, right?"
"I… Of course?" Luna said questioningly, still not following her sister's logic. Celestia’s mask dropped, her voice returned to normal, and her smile became more genuine.
"Thank you, Lulu. I know how much this has been bothering you. Please, just let me try it my way for now."
"But ponies will be—"
"Reassured," Celestia interrupted, calmly walking to the door, "I'll be visiting the Marquis myself and inspecting Manehatten's recovery. Everything will soon be under control, and there will be nothing to worry about. I will then smooth things over with the Viceroy."
"You're not going to—"
"Oh, I will. It will be good to get out of the castle for a while, hmmm…" She hummed to herself, stopping to rub her chin in thought. "Although… that will leave the duties of day-to-day affairs in your capable hooves." Luna's face blanched.
"But… all of it? F-For how long?"
"Long enough to keep you out of trouble," Celestia said with mischief in her eyes, quite a sharp contrast to the raging inferno and the invective spewing ball of aggravation she had been merely moments before. "Now, I don't want to see so much as a button out of place on the throne pillows, do you hear me, Lulu?"
Luna spluttered. Between Celestia's sudden playfulness and the reality of what she was suggesting, she was left reeling. There were many things Celestia could've done to Luna for the absolute mess this had all become, but it took a certain level of class to kick somepony upstairs as a means of punishment. You don’t see being left in charge of everything with the subtle threat that all had better be squeaky clean by the time your sister got back as a punishment? Well then, how about you go and get an entire country dumped on your shoulders all of a sudden and see how well you cope.
"It shouldn't take me long, and… do hold off on replying to anything Galaxia sends, would you? Unless it’s really urgent."
"Sister, you can't— I was only— This is—!"
"To keep your mind off of things." Celestia gently placed a hoof on her sister's shoulder. "You have been focusing an inordinate amount of time and energy on this problem. I am beginning to worry."
"But if he can really come back from the dead… My tracer can’t be obfuscated like that otherwise. He… I just—"
"Shh, see? That’s what I am worried about. No, Luna, I do not believe he is this agent provocateur from some foreign invader, nor do I believe the innumerable, contradictory stories we hear, not even if they come from his own mouth. I have met with him and have seen his reaction to somepony like Discord. You are fretting needlessly. All I see is a creature of strange abilities involved in things of interest to several powers, dangerous things we are dangerously unaware of. Force and coercion are not what is called for here. Tact, subtlety and, most importantly, diplomacy is. Mayhap I will drop by this Countess Heartfire for a spell after all."
"But he is still a danger that is loose in Equestria!"
"Yes, and for now he needs to be contained until he is out of Equestria. So far, nothing good has come of doing otherwise." Celestia's smile faltered just a little. "And I'd rather not be the cause of further harm to my ponies."
That made Luna wince, and her ears pressed flat against her head. Celestia draped a wing around her.
"Clear your head. I will take care of it for now. If it doesn't work… well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." She let her sister go and proceeded to leave the room. "Oh, and clean up in here, if you'd be so kind."
"Wh-What!?"
"Well, you still never clean out your room, and I figured I might as well take this opportunity to force you to clean mine."
"Thou hast made this mess thyself, Tia!" Luna squawked. There it was, just like that, a little harmless sisterly teasing and Luna was herself again. Celestia smiled.
"And whose fault was that again?"
--=--
“Here, send it off,” Princess Katherine Goldtooth of Firthengart commanded. The royal courier and his escort looked at each other, uncertain of whether they should actually follow their princess’ commands. Then, with a smile, she leaned forward. “One day I will be queen, and you two will still be where you are. You wouldn’t want me to have a good reason to remember you for denying me on such an important matter, now would you?”
With shaking heads and muttered apologies, the two griffons took flight and left the courtyard, leaving bewildered-looking guards upon the ramparts. Katherine smiled to herself and turned to walk inside, prepared to face the oncoming—
"KATHERINE!" There we go, right on time. For a griffon his age, her father was rather spry. She had entered from the interior courtyard into the hall as her father bounded around the corner, his eyes furious as they locked onto her. Her small smile didn't waver. A cowering page huddled around the corner from whence the king had come, the same one she had used to get her the documents she needed in the first place. "Just what on earth do you think you are doing!?"
"Why father, I have no idea what you mean."
"Do not get cute with me, Kari!" he half-whispered. Her father was not known for being the friendliest of griffons. He was quick to anger and did not suffer fools gladly, and his cantankerous nature was nearly mythic. Yet for all of that, things got done when he wanted them to, and what he wanted done right now was Katherine to be demure and contrite for her transgressions. She continued to smile. "I will have none of it, do you hear!? Go after them!"
Two guards immediately obeyed their king, running outside and taking to the air, flying after the courier she had just sent. She made to frown as her father seemingly spoiled her plans. Such a shame he didn't act quick enough to catch the missive she had sent hours before. However, he didn't need to know about that right now.
"I cannot believe you would go over my head like this! What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking somegriffon needed to swallow their pride and put a stop to this," Katherine said simply, looking off to the side.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She did. "I am not talking with that disgrace of a boy ever again, not after he humiliated me in front of everygriffon. I will not stand for it."
"You don't have to," Katherine rebutted, keeping her composure. "You just need to put a stop to all this strutting and spear shaking that’s been riled up before somegriffon does something stupid."
"Bah, let them northerners back down first. Why should my vassals not be outraged? He was a guest of honour and disgraced my entire kingdom!"
"Granted," she replied diplomatically and without further comment, however biting she would've liked them to be, "but he at least is sending missives and trying to make amends for his shortcomings."
"How did you find out about those?"
"I occasionally like to pretend I am a chambermaid and go rummaging through other griffon's personal effects," she replied sardonically. Her father levelled an unamused gaze at her. "What? You were never going to read them, nor any of the others. What harm did I do?"
"You—!" He gestured with a claw towards her face, shaking it, at a loss for words and reluctant to yell his daughter's ears off. She didn't like to rile up her father like this, but he was being idiotic. If her mother wasn't going to do anything about it – indeed, she seemed to encourage it – it was time she took matters into her own claws, for the good of the kingdom if nothing else.
"You will retire to your chambers," he said at last, his jaws set in place and his glare withering. She did not bear her smile any longer. "I will drag back those griffons you tricked into sending off, I will read what you wrote, and we will have words." All very much things she could withstand.
"Your mother will hear of this." Now that was a threat Katherine actually balked at. Still, she steeled herself nonetheless. It was going to be an inevitable consequence of her actions and would be nothing compared to their fury when they realized her true deceit. "You're just lucky that young page remembered his place and came straight to me after finding out." Katherine leaned to the side to look down the hall. The young boy quickly hid around the corner again. She then looked back to her father.
"Hmm," she said noncommittally. The king simply pointed and, resigning herself, she marched off down the hallway as her father's indignant apoplexy fuelled what would become the first of many rants and interminable muttering complaints about every little thing. He'd do those anyway, but when he was in a better mood, at least he wouldn't be so angry about it.
She turned the corner and paused by the frightened-looking page looking up at her with wide eyes. She smiled and rustled the feathers on his head before continuing on. The boy had been instrumental in getting her access to her father's letters in the first place. The least she could do was order him to inform on her so he wouldn't be punished. Growing up alone and isolated in the castle did not make much time for friends, so she made do with the children of the castle servants, many of whom had long since adopted the roles of their parents. She had long since learned the value of keeping friends amongst the ones responsible for cleaning up after you.
She grimaced at the thought of her mother returning and giving her Tartarus for what she'd done, let alone what she'd do once Gethrenia showed up on their doorstep with the emissary she had invited hours earlier. However, Katherine would rule one day when, All-Maker forbid, her father passed on. She'd take a little tongue lashing if it meant avoiding a fruitless and utterly needless war… and if it meant finally seeing dad swallow his damn pride for once.
Sure, being royalty often meant she lived in a gilded cage, but that was hardly an excuse for shirking her duties and not taking action when she could. It was not as if she were in chains after all.
--=--
The cavernous room was rocked with shouted arguments and furious debate. Metal clashed on wood and wings buzzed in discordant frenzy as sound filled the room. The darkness was only alleviated by the ambient glow of subtle blue and vile green light pouring from the spaces where the thick, organic surfaces covered the walls and ground. Once it had been a grand hall made out of ancient stone, worked in a fashion of subtle masonry and exquisite detail. Now it was a home to shadow and nightmare shapes cast in relief in the alien light. For most, it would be the font of fear and dark imagination, a source of sights better left unseen.
For changelings, this was home.
"Silence!" a bellowing voice cut across the tide of noise. The Archon rose up, bringing his forehooves down hard on the podium before him. The creature was black obsidian with a mane of charcoal and eyes of deepest scarlet. A crown of wrought iron clung to his face, around his head and under his muzzle.
"Oh be silent yourself, you incompetent wretch!" a hacking, coughing voice called out from the darkest corner above, unseen behind the covers of its palanquin and its implacable guards. "You have no right to be calling proceedings."
"I have more right than any of you, spectral!" the Archon bellowed back, pointing an accusatory hoof.
"Ha! That’s a laugh! This coming from a pet of the ponies beyond the seas. We might as well bow to the whelp Chrysalis," a nameless queen spoke up from across the forum. He had yet to learn her name and didn't care to. Still, it was amusing to see someling so young have the audacity to call an established queen, no matter how disgraced, a 'whelp.' However, that had done it, and whatever attention the Archon had managed to draw gave way to a tsunami of new arguments from every petty ruler of the changelings that had gathered there.
"I have the most changelings under my command. Lepidopolis is mine by right. Bow to me!"
"Underfed, overworked locusts the lot of them, not fit to stand let alone rule. A single one of my changelings is worth twenty of yours!"
"I can buy and sell any of your colonies out from under you. None of my changelings want for anything!"
"You are all tyrants and fools, squabbling over the right to rule or to command! You should all be cast down to a ling and the sidhes rise up to take their place in a great and free republic where everyling will be fed!"
"All under your leadership, I imagine?" scoffed another. "We all know how that game is played, small thing. Just because your lings are the only ones foolish enough to believe your deceits doesn't mean ours will. We are at least honest in our dominion."
"Honesty! Coming from a harlot who rules over whores!?"
"Says the beast who rules over mongrels!"
The Archon fumed. This was getting nowhere. If he was to get what he came for, he'd need to draw their attention. He'd need a common point upon which they could all agree and all stand. The hall was awash with dozens of powerful changelings and dozen more heads of minor colonies and free sidhes. All of them were jockeying for position and prestige above the other, all of them coming just short of blows. Never in his life, or any of theirs he imagined, would they have thought something like this could've taken place. But then Chrysalis had to reclaim Lepidopolis and assert her claim. That could not go unchallenged or unanswered.
And so it was, he decided, that it wouldn't.
"Bring her out," he ordered. A silver-helmed changeling by his side flew off to give the orders. The great doors of the hall swung open, briefly silencing the room as they revealed the sorry figure of the fallen queen being led into their midst. Her wings were bound and her chains dragged across the ground with each movement. The unnecessarily large and heavy iron collar about her neck chafed and tore at her dermis. With each step she took, the clamour built and built until it reached a crescendo of invective and vicious hatred.
The Archon smiled to himself in satisfaction as at long last he focused their attention on something long enough to get some work done. The coughing crone behind her sheets of satin far up on the forum sat silent in her palanquin, and the young queen across the forum was silent, glancing vindictively at him before returning her attention to the sight before her.
It was all Chrysalis could do to stand there and withstand their scorn.
And look up at them with all the hatred of the Void.