Noire thought she would be sick.
As a bat pony, there had occasionally been rumours spun around about her, specifically on her diet. The fangs helped her to digest meat, or so the grapevine went. True, she ate fish, but a lot of ponies ate fish. It wasn’t as if her diet was any different from most.
Maybe if Noire ate meat, she’d be able to stomach the sight of three stallions practically tearing into their food a little easier.
“Where does it all go?,” she whimpered as the mountain of food in front of her was slowly strip-mined, layer after layer taken from the top, until the plates were finally empty.
“I need food,” Windspeaker said, briefly pausing from his meal to answer Noire. “I sat in that wheelchair for quite some time. They made good food, but it’s always so healthy, and the portions are always so small. I haven’t had grease in years.”
“It is not what I normally eat, but what you have seen me eat before is not normally the amount I have. If I were as active as I was before, I would need to eat more still,” Stonehenge added as he finished a vegetable roll. He looked over at Windspeaker, and lightly prodded the white-coated unicorn in the ribs. “Windspeaker is correct in saying he needs to build up some mass again, so do not be too harsh on him.”
Noire just let out a little whine as Stonehenge returned to cramming more food down his gullet. She couldn’t imagine eating that much food, even when she was in basic training and had increased calorie requirements.
“Trixie thinks she’s had enough food,” Trixie groaned from beside Noire. She patted her stomach, feeling bloated. If there had been an eating competition between the mares and the stallions, it was clear which side would be winning right now.
“Enough to make you speak in the third-pony again,” Red Wings teased her.
“Yes, well, I don’t think we’ll be as well-fed where we’re going next,” Trixie said, deflecting Red Wings’ comment on her illeism. Rather than put up with another teasing remark, she looked out the window at the ocean side.
The train ride to Vanhoover had been a short one, as there were multiple connections from Canterlot to the west coast every day, and the six had taken an express route with no stops in between. Upon arriving in the coastal city, they had walked around with what little luggage they had picked up in Canterlot, and acquired a few camping knick-knacks for the travel south to Colt Springs. They had mostly roughed it when travelling north from the Badlands to Manechester with a couple of tents, but with two more members, one of them physically frail, they would need more supplies than the party had owned before.
With the train getting in later in the day, the six had decided to stay overnight and checked into a hotel. Having outfitted their camping needs, there was a little bit of time to take a tour around Vanhoover. Even Trixie had not been to Vanhoover, so it was a new experience for all of them. It also gave the fledgling Windspeaker a chance to move around and get some exercise before going through the more arduous journey of heading south along the plains towards Colt Springs.
The normal bustle of a major pony metropolis was subdued that day, courtesy to it being the middle of the work week. As a result, the six ponies that had started with a band of two on that fateful night in Whinnychester had been able to muscle through the crowds with ease, taking some of Vanhoover’s more famous tourist stops. Then Red Wings had gotten hungry, and they found themselves at an all-you-can-eat place.
“Hmm. Random thought, sorry. Iceheart, it looks like your coat is beginning to lose its luster,” Noire said, unwilling to talk any more about food.
Iceheart blinked, before looking down at her fur. “So it is.”
The others turned to survey the Crystal pony. Windspeaker had the least amount of reference, having known Iceheart for only a matter of a few days, but the change was most obvious to Trixie and Noire, who had left the frozen hinterlands of the north with the former commander. Where before Iceheart’s purple coat had possessed a radiant sheen, now it was beginning to dull. Indeed, her appearance was now beginning to seem blase, especially compared to the stallions of the group: Red Wings, with his uniform red fur from head to hoof to tail, including even his eyes; Windspeaker, with his chalk-white colouration; and Stonehenge, with his immense size that even beat out an alicorn.
“It’s been about a month now since we left the North, hasn’t it?” Trixie asked. “You said it could start to dull after a month if I recall.”
It hit Trixie just how much of a month that it had been. It was strange to think that one could isolate such an enormous world-changing series of events for her into a mere three months, starting with the night New Moon had swooped through her open window.
“Actually, I am more curious about how you seemed to shrug that off just now,” said Stonehenge. “I would you thought you to possess more affection about your coat than that.”
Iceheart shrugged again. “I suppose I was mentally prepared for it. Whenever I left to go deliver a message to Equestria, I would always think, ‘This is the time I shall lose my coat’, though I never did. When Sombra first banished me to the frozen wastes of the north, I thought I would lose it due to lack of exposure to the Crystal Heart, not realising its influence reached far. This time, it merely actually happened.”
“That’s...a little, sad? I guess?” Trixie asked, fumbling around for words. “I would have thought it more fundamental to you.”
The other mare shrugged. “I am still a Crystal pony, even if it is only as an identity now. Compared to having to leave behind an entire era and all the history we lost, it feels relatively trivial to me. I am certain Red has had greater crises about his identity and self-worth.”
“Probably,” said Red Wings. “Some days I still wake up and forget I have two wings again.” His line effectively nipped that conversation in the bud.
Trixie bit her lip. She wondered how Iceheart and Red Wings could talk about their changes so casually. Even if one was from a superficial appearance and the other was a positive improvement, Trixie didn’t think she could brush it off that easily. An idea had been forming in her head, a wondrous idea, an ambitious idea, an impossible idea, but to do it would be leaving a part of her identity behind. Trixie did not think she would ever be able to stop thinking of herself as a unicorn in this lifetime, no matter what might happen in the future.
The banter continued, with Windspeaker easily sliding into the group as the sixth pony present, but Trixie wondered how long it could continue.
Windspeaker let out a loud yawn, covering his mouth at the last second.
“It’s a dangerous job, guarding all the food,” Noire teased him as she flew beside him.
Windspeaker wisely chose not to rise to her bait. Instead, he changed his sitting position in the cart.
It was a little embarrassing for the unicorn, but he simply was unable to walk long distances. The group had anticipated this, and rented a cheap cart, stocking it up with their camping equipment and goods as they trotted from Vanhoover down to Colt Springs. Stonehenge may have been a fighter in his day, but he had also been a manual labourer, one who came from fine drafthorse breed. It was he who hoisted the cart behind him most of the time. Occasionally, the Earth pony traded out with Trixie, who had moved a wagon long distances before her retirement as a showmare.
Occasionally, Trixie would float alongside the wagon. Her bursts of self-levitation were short and brief, but they were a breakthrough in something she hadn’t consciously been able to achieve before. The magician found it funny in a depressing way that even though Trixie was pioneering an extreme specialisation of magic that she was certain nopony else had ever achieved, she still struggled to get a merely advanced spell such as self-levitation down.
Fortunately, the roads were good, with one long stretch of paved passageway from Vanhoover all the way down to Las Pegasus. The six passed by many ponies going the other way, and overtook and were passed by many more going down to Las Pegasus. At night, they would move away from the road and onto the beaten path, setting up camp. Though Equestria was a safe land, it was not too unusual for many ponies to set up a watch at night: however, the Living Wind was versatile, and Windspeaker promised it would wake them all up if it sensed any danger coming their way.
The nights were always night and moderately cool, with soft winds sweeping through their camp. The six shared stories, both real and fictional, over the bonfire that they always built. Through the senses they had inherited from their changeling fathers to be able to feel the emotions of others, Trixie and Noire both knew that their group was growing ever closer together. Somehow, the addition of Windspeaker made it feel ‘complete’.
Trixie hoped it would never end.
Slowly, the distance between their travelling caravan and the town of Colt Springs narrowed. Colt Springs was a small tourist town located on the West Coast, south of Vanhoover and north of Las Pegasus. Eventually, they departed the main road between the two major West Coast cities, and went onto a smaller side road that lead to Colt Springs, winding in around the side of a mountain before finally reaching the village itself.
The six ponies smelled the salt in the air before they got close to Colt Springs. The odor drifted a long way from the ocean, causing a few of them to turn their nose up. However, as they got closer, each of them managed to catch a glimpse of white.
The buildings took on more detail as the band continued to approach Colt Springs. Only Trixie and Red Wings had ever visited the west coast, the former while in her function as a showmare and the latter while wandering away from his former hometown. As a result, they were unsurprised to see a sea of white sprawled out before an ocean of blue. For the other four, however, it was their first time to observe a tropical, coastal town such as Colt Springs. Manehatten and Baltimare might have been coastal, but they were not located in anywhere near as nice a climate zone as Colt Springs was.
It showed in the houses, which were almost universally white-washed with blue roofs. Trixie knew it had something to do about keeping the insides cool during all times of the year. It complemented the sunny day perfectly.
With the buildings came the sight of the ocean, a blue-green that was pleasant to the eyes. The sound of waves washing upon the land drifted on the soft sea breeze, beckoning visitors and tourists ever closer. The entire visual effect was something that could drive painters to tears trying to capture it on a mere, still canvas.
Colt Springs was renowned for its waters, being squished in between the ocean on one side and natural springs on the other. It laid at the end of a short mountain range, with a few caves that even had indoor hot springs. Of course, Trixie knew the true secret of Colt Springs: much like the hive in the Badlands, the deep, interior caverns of Colt Springs was home to another changeling hive, if one only knew where to find the hidden tunnels that lurked within the deep. Unlike the Badlands hive, however, the Colt Springs hive was home to the single most powerful changeling on the continent, the Empress of all Changelings: she who had been there when the Windigos had been vanquished.
Somewhere, deep within the mountains, Trixie would find the answers that Queen Chrysalis had directed her to seek.
Colt Springs hadn’t always been named that way, undergoing several name changes over the year, briefly renamed as Weston-super-Mare before finally becoming Colt Springs. Despite its tourist trap veneer, it was still very much an older settlement. The cobblestone road that marked the last stretch of the distance before the outback turned into the outskirts of town was in good shape, but its upkeep couldn’t hide its age. Colt Springs was a town with history.
Very few ponies knew of its true history, of course. The story of Colt Springs was the story of the changelings, and how they came to Equestria.
Even Trixie didn’t know much, however. Her father had told her bits and pieces during his oral histories on the changelings, and where they had come from. Supposedly, the Empress of All Changelings, after surviving the era of the Windigos, had come south with the three pony tribes to what was now Equestria. Even as she continued to hide her true race, the Empress had hunted for a place to call home, eventually settling upon Colt Springs, where there was a labyrinth of rolling hills surrounded by mountains. It was there that Equestria’s first changeling hive was created, and thus its oldest.
That it hadn’t moved since made sense. If anything, the pop fiction Trixie had read gave her the idea that a villain’s lair should be deep underwater, or in a volcanic lair beyond the mountains of doom. Of course, the changelings were hardly villains to Trixie, but the point still stood: nopony would expect a large changeling hive to have been established in what had since become a tourist village.
The transition from countryside to town was much like any other location Trixie had visited: larger houses spread apart set on larger acreages, some of them with attached farms, with a half-way house where they dropped their cart off, slowly giving way to several houses built closer together, and finally turning into the town proper. Before the six ponies knew it, they were surrounded by two and three-story houses, with the rolling hills that Colt Springs was built on descending at a sharp angle to the ocean below. The cobblestone had been changed out for white stone, which was pervasive in both the buildings and the ground. White prevented the build-up of heat, and so it was what the majority of Colt Springs used.
“On a clear day, you can see forever,” Stonehenge mumbled as he saw the west coast of Equestria for the first time in his life. It wasn’t really anything different from the east coast that he saw when Stonehenge occasionally visited Manehatten, except that the sun was over the water in the afternoon instead of the morning. However, the sight was far more riveting than it had been in Manehatten.
The six stood there for a little while. The sunlight beating down on them and the warm tropical breeze washing over their coats dulled their sense of priority. The Empress could wait. For now, they deserved a break.
Nopony spoke for the longest time. Trixie thought it to be perfect. Was their group not now complete? It felt so. She could not imagine a life without the five dear friends she had met since this adventure of hers started, on that lonely night in Whinnychester.
Finally, Red Wings broke the silence. “We’re here. Now what?,” asked the red-furred pegasus. “I’m beginning to realise Queen Chrysalis never said anything than to come out west. Not even who to meet or anything aside from just seeing the Empress, but I doubt we’ll just be able to walk up to her and ask.”
“Over a third of this town are changelings in disguise,” Windspeaker revealed. By this point in time, nopony needed to ask how he knew the things he did. Windspeaker just did, courtesy of the Living Wind. “Though the mayor in town is not, she is well-aware of what this place is, and is one of the lines of communication from the town to the hive. We should talk to her to gain access to the Colt Springs hive.”
“Then where should we head, Windy?” Iceheart asked.
Windspeaker looked around and nodded towards a cobblestone road that had been upkept well, one of maybe that all winded downhill. “This way,” he said, trotting off. Iceheart quickly followed behind him, leaving four other ponies confused. Windy? Even for Trixie and Noire, who had journeyed with Iceheart the longest, that was the most casual term of endearment they had ever heard Iceheart use.
Trixie grinned a modest smile before pacing after the two. It seemed that every day that passed was bringing their odd sextet closer and closer.
In a way, having Windspeaker around was a boon that the other five could never stop appreciating. With the Living Wind at his side, Windspeaker was an unspoken master of surveillance. Whenever they needed information, he had it ready at his hooftips. Knowing the shortest route to the mayor’s office was just one of the small things that made their lives easier, even if they were to bypass potential tourist sites as a result.
Even still, it was a nice walk. The sound of waves in the distance was light but audible, and the daylight warmed them up nicely. If they hadn’t been here for business, and the ambition in her heart hadn’t been burning with a reignited fiery passion, Trixie would have figured Colt Springs for the perfect spot to wrap up their journey and stay. Kitschy as it might seem, the town of blue roofs had charm. No longer facing them from above, instead trotting past them from below, they took on a different form: the roofs blended together with the cloudless sky, creating a vivid and dizzying effect.
Along the way, they walked by several ponies and the odd donkey. To Trixie’s senses, many of them felt hurried, yet there were a few ponies who instead seemed suspicious of the group of six. Trixie had no surefire way to identify a changeling in this town, but she at least expected the average changeling would be more paranoid than the average pony, when a hive was so close by.
At long last, the slow decline in the road tapered off, and they found themselves walking on a flat road. The mayor’s office was obvious as Trixie spotted it: a large house sitting behind a medum-sized gate, with two ponies acting as guards casually playing cards with one another. Neither seemed to have a care in the world. With the nice day and the unimportance of a town like Colt Springs to the pony eye, Trixie could not blame them.
To Trixie’s surprise, Noire took front. “Good afternoon,” she said, greeting the two guards.
The lime green-coated stallion on the left sat up, mildly surprised as if he had not expected anypony to visit. “Good day,” he greeted back. “What can we do for you?”
“We are new to town,” Noire said. “My father recommended when I visit here that I should visit the mayor here, however. Even if I have a number of friends with me, it is still advice I’ll follow.”
“Your father, eh?,” asked the yellow-coated mare on the right. “What’s his name?”
“Incognito.”
The two pony guards suddenly jumped, trading suspicious looks. Trixie deduced why quickly, and had to commend Noire for her cleverness. ‘Incognito’ was not really a pony name. It wasn’t exactly like it would be unique among ponies, but it would still be a very rare name.
Among changelings, however, it was a common name. Any changeling, or any pony with exposure to changeling culture, would quickly have her or his attention aroused.
The mare frowned. “Who are you, exactly?” Her tone of voice was slower than it had been earlier.
Iceheart stepped forward, making sure not to walk too sudden to surprise the suddenly-skittish guardsponies. “Friends, of a sort, who wish to visit an elder. Even in my case, as a Crystal pony who was stuck in the stasis of the empire for a thousand years, I suppose she still qualifies as my elder. Still, having stood guard against the Windigos, I hope she may appreciate a kindred spirit.”
Now there was no mistaking the hints Iceheart and Noire were dropping, having escalated from subtle to blatant. The stallion narrowed his eyes. “Sunflower, I’ll go talk to the mayor. She’ll want to know some guests are inquiring about the Queen Mother.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on them,” said the mare named Sunflower. She looked the six over. “You’re not ordinary ponies, you six. Are any of you…?” Her question trailed off, but it was obvious what she asked.
“No,” Trixie said, finally taking the lead. “However, my father was, as well as hers,” said the unicorn, gesturing to Noire.
The stallion jerked as he picked up on the implication, halting his movement away from the gate. Trixie wracked her brains, trying to remember if any of the ‘aunts and uncles’ she had ever had to write letters to of her father’s death had been from Colt Springs. She didn’t remember clearly, but Trixie did not think so. Regardless, it appeared the stallion knew exactly what Trixie meant. She still didn’t know exactly what species the stallion truly was, making his intense eyes all the more intimidating.
Well, Trixie had journeyed long and far and tapped into the essence of magic to get this far. A mere stallion glaring hard at her, whether he was a pony or a changeling, did little to frighten her.
The two guards traded looks. The mare nodded at the stallion. “I’ll go check with the mayor instead of you, Gale. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t dilly-dally too long,” the stallion, Gale muttered as Sunflower quickly rushed into the manor. Trixie caught a quick glimpse of the inside of the house, noting it was fine marble. Gale kept his focus on Trixie and Noire, as he turned to face back towards them. “So only two of you were so born...but then, why are there six of you? Do you think we simply grant entrance to anypony who wants it?”
Noire gestured to Iceheart. “She fought against the Windigos before being sealed in time with the Crystal Empire’s stasis. That should merit her entrance. The Badlands Queen at the least was glad to receive her.”
Gale’s eyes widened, and for once in her life, Trixie could see the truth in the idiom ‘hair rising up on one’s back’ as his coat did just that. “Is that where your fathers came from, then?” There was hostility in his voice.
Trixie was uncertain as to what the politics were between the Colt Springs hive and the Badlands hive. Chrysalis had never said a word. The best guess Trixie could make was outfall over the Canterlot invasion, when Chrysalis had exposed changelingkind to ponies. However, there was no point in dancing around words. “They were,” Trixie said.
“Hmm. So there is still love in the world.”
Trixie blinked. She was uncertain how to interpret Gale’s words. “We asked the queen of our fathers what it meant for us to be born of two separate species. She sent us here instead.”
Gale snorted. “Perhaps the only wise action she’s made in the last decade, then.”
Noire narrowed her eyes. She was unsure of what Gale meant, but Noire assumed there was little love lost between Colt Springs and the Badlands. Chrysalis revealing the changeling race to ponykind had probably not impressed any changeling Queen. Bad blood was certain to result.
However, it was now certain to the batpony: Gale was a changeling-cum-pony.
Gale’s last line left the ponies and the stallion in an uneasy silence. A few minutes passed, before Sunflower finally came out, visibly panting. “Gros gives them permission to come in.”
The lime-green stallion frowned. “Is she certain?”
“You don’t trust her?”
Gale shook his head. “No, not that. If she is willing to see them, then I will allow them to pass.”
Sunflower nodded. “Of course.” She turned to face the six. “Follow me, please.” Turning around, the soft brown-coated mare walked towards the household only just large enough to call a manor.
Trixie traded glances with Noire and Iceheart. It was easy to deduce which of the guards was a changeling and which was not by the way Sunflower had deferred to Gale. Still, it feels weird to see a pony obeying a changeling and acting timid in front of him, in Equestria, Trixie thought. Colt Springs truly was a secluded place for that to happen.
Nevertheless, they had not come all this way to Colt Springs only to cower at entering a mere mayor’s house, not when the more intimidating task of seeing the Empress was yet ahead. Trixie cantered after Sunflower, and the rest fell in behind her. It made for an odd scene, nearly always going around in an entourage of six, making it inconvenient in moments like this. However, for when Trixie and Noire met the Empress, she felt that it would be best to have additional ponies around, merely for the moral support.
Entering the house, Trixie saw that it was more marble. The front entrance was right out of a stereotype of a fancy county manor from two centuries ago. Two large, curved staircases on either side of the room with extravagantly carved hoof railings led up to a second room, multiple chandeliers hung from the roof, and the walls were dotted with paintings. Several decorative ornaments were scattered around the room, a vase here, a bust there. Though the marble floor was still obvious, a red carpet led from the entrance up to the door in-between the two stairs.
Instead of continuing through the main, large door, however, Sunflour dovetailed left, taking Trixie and her friends into a side door.
“Oh, hello! Welcome to Colt Springs, travelers! I am Mayor Gros Michel,” greeted a mare behind a desk with a mane and colt that were both a radiant yellow, several shades more brilliant than Sunflower’s was. The mayor practically beamed at them, sparkling white teeth matching her lustrous fur, blue eyes shining with enthusiasm. “You can call me Michel for short, though, I know Mayor Gros Michel can be a mouthful to say over and over again!”
Trixie could tell, could feel the mayor for what she was really feeling. Gros Michel was exuberant on the outside, but it was all fake. Instead, the mayor was giving off short bursts of a moody fear and trepidation. Trixie could understand all too easily why. After all, it wouldn’t have been every day a group of six ponies turned up on Michel’s doorstep looking for the Empress of All Changelings.
She opened her mouth to respond, only for Windspeaker to suddenly step forward. “We wish to see the Empress,” he spoke bluntly.
Trixie found herself slack-jawed at Windspeaker’s sudden forwardness. The unicorn she had met only a short while ago in Canterlot had always seemed mild-mannered, only showing a great amount of emotion when he thought she could help heal him of his illness, and then when Trixie had actually succeeded. For Windspeaker to suddenly speak out in front of everypony else showed he was finally gaining the confidence Trixie thought he lacked.
The fear she could sense from Gros Michel suddenly vanished, leaving Trixie stunned at the mare mayor’s sudden mood swings. Instead, Michel now reeked of suspicion. “Who are you all, really?,” she asked, standing up. Trixie idly noticed the mare had a stalk of bananas as her Cutie Mark, now that she could see her thighs. “You can’t be from any of the hives, or else you would—no, never mind that.”
“She and I had changeling fathers,” Noire said, pointing at Trixie. “We did not grow up in our fathers’ hive, but we recently visited it. Queen Chrysalis of the Badlands Hive recommended we come here to find out more on what sets us apart from other ponies, what qualities we have by being hybrids.”
The suspicion held strong. “Chrysalis sent you? What mischief is she planning now?”
“Please,” Trixie said, attempting to try to get on Michel’s good side. “I have been living in a rural settlement for most of the last few years, but I have been practicing my magic in the meantime. I have a little bit of talent with illusions, and I was curious if it was related to my father being a changeling, and his transformation abilities. We also wanted to understand how we can use the little bit of magic of the other tribes we weren’t born into better.” Trixie motioned to Iceheart. “Iceheart here is one of the Crystal Ponies who was stuck in stasis. It’s not obvious anymore since her crystal coast sheen has faded, of course, but she is. She was at one of the Crystal Empire’s forward bases when the Windigos were around. Queen Chrysalis said the Empress might also be interested in seeing her, too.”
Suddenly, Michel’s suspicion abated, replaced by a smug feeling of satisfaction. “Ah. I think I see now. Sunflower.”
“Y-yes, mayor?” Sunflower asked from behind Stonehenge.
“Please bring him here.”
“Ah! Of course, mayor!”
With quick hooves, Sunflower suddenly dashed out of the room, and was off.
Gros Michel watched with a fond expression as the younger mare left. “She’s a good filly,” Michel commented.
“I...guess?” Stonehenge part-asked, part-commented. He had felt a little awkward as Sunflower had been pushed up against him, owing to the tight confines of the office when there were seven ponies crowded in there in front of the desk.
“She is. Sunflower is my daughter, but she’s a consummate professional on the job, always making sure to call me mayor while she’s working as my assistant.”
“Ah,” Stonehenge nodded, understanding. The family resemblance was there.
Michel eyed up Trixie and Noire. “So, your fathers were changelings, and your mothers were ponies, right?”
Noire and Trixie glanced at one another, before looking back, nodding. Neither of them were certain if the mayor was merely making idle conversation, or if they were still playing verbal warfare. It was a delicate situation, and neither mare wanted to stumble through it unaware.
“Then you’ll understand why it’s a good thing Sunflower is a filly instead of a colt. The way she keeps eying up that Gale fellow after I keep scheduling them together, well, if it was the other way around, they could do all sorts of the other sort of consummate and I would never get to see a grandfoal.”
It took Trixie a few seconds to understand what Michel was trying to say. Behind her, Red Wings suddenly snorted, as if he was desperately trying hard not to laugh. Realisation dawned on Trixie as soon as Red Wings let out a bark of laughter, and she reddened at the lewd implications of Michel’s words. “You’re trying to set up—”
“Listen,” Gros Michel suddenly interrupted Trixie. “You’re here to see the Queen Mother, right? The Empress, I mean.”
“Yes, we are,” Iceheart quickly interjected. “Is the Queen Mother another name for her, then?”
Michel rolled her eyes. “You really don’t know very much, then. I guess you truly aren’t changelings, then. Otherwise Chrysalis might have cared to give you more than the bare minimum.”
“I’m sorry?” Iceheart asked, uncertain if she had offended Michel.
“That’s alright. It’s been awhile since the Queen Mother has seen any visitors. I have to make certain any who do don’t have hostile intentions towards her. I’m the pony here they trust the most,” Michel said. Though she didn’t puff up her chest, the pride was obvious in her voice. “I was wondering if you were here to see the Queen instead, but when you said you were hybrids, I at least understood why you wished to see the Queen Mother.”
“Wait, the Queen? Er, the Queen Mother? What’s the difference?” Windspeaker asked. He did not know any of this. He wished he had spent more time trying to understand the changelings and changeling culture while he was younger, but he had never expected to have to actually make a journey out to the ancestral home of the changelings.
The mayor rolled her eyes again, and snorted. “You really do know very little out here. The Queen Mother passed control of the hive down to her daughter many years ago. Her daughter is the Queen now. Were it not for her title of Empress, the Queen Mother would have been left without a real title upon abdicating her rulership of the hive here.” Michel raised her eyebrows at the looks of surprise on everypony else’s faces. “Did you really not know anything about her before coming here?”
“Well…” Stonehenge trailed off, before picking up his train of thought again, “We did know a few things…”
“So, who is this ‘Empress’, exactly?”
It was a question that Trixie and Noire had expected for several days, after Trixie’s revelation of the Empress’ title and the bit of her outliving the Windigos. To the others’ credit, they had the discretion to wait until well after the six had left Canterlot, travelled by train to Vanhoover, and then left the coastal metropolis.
Instead, the question had been asked the first night out of Vanhoover, after settling down for the night. Iceheart had finally grown curious and decided it was better to ask now than to wait until they were in the belly of the beast to learn more about the Empress.
“The Empress...well, um,” Noire struggled to come up with an adequate explanation. “She’s not really an empress, not the way you would envision her with that name. It’s an honourary title that she was given over time by her daughters. She only rules over her own hive, but nearly every changeling in Equestria, certainly every Queen is descended from the Empress. At a conference many years ago, the other Queens came together and bestowed unto her the title of Empress of the Changelings.”
“It’d be like if Celestia and Luna actually gave birth to every noble line in Equestria,” Trixie added. Somehow, such an idea seemed anathema to her. Perhaps it was because despite being born of both pony and changeling, Trixie herself was a pony, who had grown up knowing a pony ruler. She had no connection to the Empress, except as her father’s ancestor by several generations. What might be blase to hear about the Empress was far more radical if Trixie imagined Princess Celestia to do it. “And then the nobles came and elevated them up to a higher title, but in practice they ruled perhaps just Canterlot.”
Iceheart nodded as she understood what Noire and Trixie had just told her. “So in essence, the Empress truly could be said to be the ancestor of all Changelings, then.”
“On this continent,” Noire corrected her. “She apparently came from another continent with a few others to help fight the Windigos, but she is the only one who survived those days that you would know well. There may be a few changelings unrelated to her who came over later, but still nearly every changeling can trace his or her heritage back to her. If we go off the other hybrids who have a changeling father who have lived over the age, I expect many ponies could even call her their many greats-grandmother, if only they knew they had a changeling in the family tree.”
There was a brief few moments of digesting that information as Windspeaker, Stonehenge and Red Wings considered that. Iceheart knew it was unlikely for her, as the changelings had purportedly only come over to this continent during the time of the Windigos, likely not that far removed from when Iceheart had been born.
“Why Colt Springs, then?” Iceheart asked. “I would have expected her to be living close to Canterlot, or anywhere else really where ponies would have settled in Equestria’s early history. Why settle an out-of-the-way village far from Canterlot?”
“That might be easier for me to answer,” Windspeaker suddenly said, interrupting the mares. “Colt Springs exists as a tourist town. That much is legitimate, and many of its permanent residents are ponies, including some whose families have been here for generations. However, much of it is a front for the hive to conduct trade with Equestria, even if Equestria does not realise it. For all their ability to gain energy from emotions, changelings still need to eat things with actual substance, so more food disappears into Colt Springs than a town of its size could possible consume. The same holds with both other essentials, and luxury goods. Meanwhile, a great deal of the hive’s specialised goods are exported out: mushrooms, minerals, and root vegetables. Many of Equestria’s greatest architectural engineers are secretly changelings, who receive a foalhood’s training in reinforcing underground caverns, and some of them will choose to send money back home. Colt Springs is no different in that aspect either. These things would have been noticed quick in Canterlot, or Manehatten, or Vanhoover, or any other place where ponies pay attention to things. A town out of the way that few pay attention to is the perfect place to hide out.”
Trixie raised her eyebrows. She was genuinely impressed. “The Living Wind is something any spymaster would envy.
Windspeaker turned away, his white coat colouring slightly. “It is not all-powerful. It can’t read very well underground, considering how the wind has a tough time indoors, and I can only learn what I ask the Living Wind to tell me. It is not as if I try to eavesdrop in on personal conversations, either. Confined to my bed, however, I took great joy in learning about the world around me.”
The white-furred unicorn frowned, peering around the great plains that surrounded them. In the morning, as the sun rose, the mountains to the west that dotted the coast and spawned the patches of beachfront that hugged the water could be seen off in the far distance. For now, however, the land was flat as the eye could see in the waning daylight.
“It’s odd, though,” Windspeaker continued. “That I should know almost nothing about the Empress, that is. She seems to be one of those entities that the Living Wind cannot directly touch, but it should at least be able to sense whenever she leaves her hive. To my knowledge, she hasn’t left since before I was born.”
Noire frowned. “That doesn’t seem right. My father was of the Badlands Hive, but he was well-acquainted with changelings from other hives. The Queens do leave their hives. Some are more secluded than others, but I don’t think that any would go so far as to stay underground or inside a mountain for twenty-two years. Changelings aren’t designed to stay inside for that long. They simply need sunlight from time to time.”
“All this I know and more,” Windspeaker said.
“Perhaps she cannot?” Stonehenge suddenly asked. He had been feeling left out of the conversation, not knowing much of the changelings like Noire and Trixie did, or being in the loop with a grand source of knowledge, like Windspeaker was. Having seen a spot to enter the conversation, he took it. “Ah, like me, I suppose. I was unable to move for fifty years, after all.”
“I doubt it,” Trixie said, dismissing his suggestion. “It’s not that it’s a bad idea, it’s just that, well, she’s the Empress. My father only spoke of her in very brief words, but I had the sense that she was a Very Important Changeling. Admittedly, I had thought she was just a fairy-tale father had made up, but Colt Springs was still the ancestral home of the changelings. If she were to be petrified, or to have died, even my father out in our ponydunk village would have known. Besides, Queen Chrysalis did send us out here.”
“I see,” Stonehenge said, figuratively retreating from the discussion with his tail between his legs.
Iceheart was the next to make a suggestion. “Politics, maybe. I could have left at any time from my fortress had I desired, but politics and fear had stayed my hoof. If this Empress is as great as you state, leaving her home may bring consequences. How many Queens are there in Equestria?”
“Thirteen,” Red Wings said. It was one of the very rare pieces of information he was privy to as a sort-of friend to the changelings of the Badlands.
“Thirteen, then. It may be the Queens are politically matched against one another and are in a delicate stalemate, and if the Empress were to come out it may upset the status quo in a poor way.”
Trixie nodded. She wasn’t certain of Iceheart’s idea, but it had merit. “That could be. I can believe it.”
“Do you think Chrysalis sending us here was to force the Empress’ hoof on something, then?” Noire asked, her paranoia suddenly spiked.
“I can’t say for sure,” said Windspeaker. “They’re all powerful enough that the Living Wind is ineffective on them. It is not as if I took an interest in changeling politics beforehoof, either. While the Living Wind is able to hear and see nearly everything, I first have to take an interest in it to know what the Living Wind does.”
“I’m surprised you never reported anything to the authorities, then,” Red Wings mused.
Windspeaker responded, “I have in fact reported more than a few things in the past, but always through anonymous notes. They were the lower, more personal, laypony things, however. Helping a mother find her lost filly, tipping the police off to the perpetrator of a crime, bringing closure to a tale of love lost. I spent many years unable to move around quickly, and then many more mostly confined to beds.”
“But not the big stuff?” Red Wings asked, feeling around to make sure he did not intrude on something too personal.
The unicorn stallion huffed, the first sign of impatience he had shown thus far. “I had to reconcile my ability with society at large for my entire life. I could have made a larger difference, but, well, I was still struggling with understanding my own self at the time. By the time I had reasonably gotten to grips with my connection to the wind, I was already crippled, and I made the choice to let the world pass me by and become a neutral observer, merely looking on in curiosity.” Windspeaker gave a sidelong look at Trixie. “Well, until a potential cure finally came along.”
“You are getting off-topic,” Stonehenge said, drawing everypony’s attentions again. “What of the changelings and their relations to one another?”
Windspeaker crossed his front limbs in front of his torso. “Again, I can’t really tell you that much. I never really listened in on them much. I know the hives have skirmished with one another in the past, but their common relation always prevents things from going too far. Colt Springs seems to mediate some of the conflicts that have broken out, but never have they partaken in their own war.”
“Which makes sense, then,” said Stonehenge. “If each of the Queens calls the Empress her mother, they would never kill their mother, would they? Or attack her hive? Sorry, I am just guessing here, I don’t actually know that much still about the changelings.”
“No, I think you’re right,” said Noire. “I don’t think all the Queens are directly the Empress’ daughters. I think a few of them may be granddaughters, or perhaps even great-granddaughters, but they would only be a few generations removed at most. I don’t think even Queen Chrysalis would ignore her mother, no matter how old she might be.”
Red Wings hummed. “You know, it feels weird to me when I realise that I’m actually the one who has had the most amount of contact in the past with a changeling Queen. Ah, sorry, I’m going off on a tangent. Well, no, I guess it is relevant. Even though I’ve met Chrysalis a few times, and changelings many more, I can’t even begin to guess at what the play is between all of them.”
Noire grit her teeth. “I don’t really know much either. Father never really said.”
“Well, it is good that we discussed it,” Iceheart said, drawing the conversation back towards her initial set of questions. Noire marveled at how Iceheart always seemed the most level-headed of the group. The batpony was glad the other mare had joined them after that fateful day on the hinterlands of the North. “At the least, we should be able to trot into the Colt Springs hive with some idea of what to expect, which is better than what I had earlier.”
Noire conceded the point. “Yes. I do not think it will be too much. Queen Chrysalis would not have recommended we come here if we were going to be ensnared and kept in the hive. We’re only asking for information. Besides, between Trixie and Windspeaker’s abilities, I am certain we could break out if the worst were to happen.”
There was a general chorus of agreements at that.
Trixie bit her tongue at Noire’s words. Initially, Trixie and Noire were to come to Colt Springs to ask the Empress for information on pony-changeling hybrid offspring. However, in the last few weeks, Trixie realised there was something else she wanted to ask the Empress, something that only she might know. The question was still a secret Trixie kept close to her heart. She did not lack courage to risk erasure of her life and magic when healing Windspeaker, yet Trixie was unable to even confide in her friends the new goal she had. Would she ever be able to ask the Empress when Trixie could not even trust her friends with her new ambition?
“Greetings to all of you.”
Sunflower had just returned, bringing a stallion in tow.
Red Wings looked over the new unicorn with a sharp eye. From head to hoof, the newcomer was quintessentially a pony, with yellow fur not unlike the flaxen colour of a field of wheat in full bloom, and a mane and tail with dichromatic stripes of a darker gold and muddy brown. However, Red Wings had spent a great deal of time in a place where changelings pretended to be ponies, and he was able to notice the little things. The unicorn stood too tall and stout for such a relaxed place as Colt Springs, and his blue eyes were far too focused on Trixie. Anypony who was truly a pony here would be slouching, and acting in a far more casual manner.
There was no doubt to Red Wings. This stallion was a changeling.
“Hello,” Red Wings greeted back, feigning a friendly manner. However, both of them knew what Red Wings’ true feelings were: a sharp spike of suspicion. “I’m Red Wings. How do you do?”
“You may call me Larynx. I am the Voice of the Empress.”
The other ponies, who had eyed the flaxen-coated pony with interest but had kept talking to the mayor, finally turned to face the changeling who called himself Larynx. The capital V in the title he had just dropped was obvious. This was an important changeling in the Colt Springs hive.
“Are you here to take us to the hive, then?” Iceheart questioned him.
“I am.”
Curt and to the point, Red Wings thought. Larynx was a changeling unto a changeling. He asked, “I have been to the Badlands Hive before. When I went there, I was always drugged beforehoof and taken to the Hive so I would not know where it is located. Are we to do the same here?”
“No. I will guide you.”
Red’s nose twitched with slight annoyance, but he kept calm. “In that case, is there any other protocol we should be aware of before meeting the Empress?”
“Do not attack or otherwise harm the Empress. You will be treated as guests of the Hive, but if any of you should attempt to harm the Empress, that privilege will be revoked.”
Red Wings pursed his lips. “I have no issue, then.” Attacking her? Why would we even do that? Well, he couldn’t blame Larynx for thinking it a possibility. Even a few years later, there were still sore feelings from many ponies against the changelings, no matter that they had not reappeared en masse since.
“I have no issue, either,” Stonehenge intoned. The others echoed the sentiment.
“Very well. Follow me, then.”
With that short statement, Larynx turned, and left the office. Red Wings and Trixie found themselves marching in lockstep side by side, and Red Wings felt himself heat up a little at the close contact to the unicorn, before forcing it down. It was dangerous, crushing on a mare who could tell his feelings to some extent with her own empathic senses inherited from her father. However, in front of what was likely a changeling, and going into a changeling hive, Red Wings needed to stay as calm and composed as he could. Idly, he noted that the mayor and Sunflower stayed behind in the office. It made sense to him: where they were going was somewhere ponies wouldn’t just casually visit.
Instead of going outside, to the ponies’ surprise, Larynx instead went through another door in the manor, taking them through a hallway. He repeated the action through a few more doors, the exquisite architectural tastes of the manor getting less lavish as they got further away from the front entrance, until they finally went down a set of stairs.
There was no knob to the door, nor even a keyhole. Instead, Larynx bowed his head to the door. With a quick burst of magic, he hissed, “Open.”
Windspeaker jumped a bit at Larynx’ hiss. He had found the potential changeling’s manner unnerving, but after hearing his monotone voice for so long, the hiss was surprising. His surprise was abated by the door opening. Ah. Some sort of mechanism to stop intruders from getting in without the right magical signature, then.
However, to all of their surprise, what laid behind the wall was not another hallway, but a cavern. It was then that Windspeaker finally deduced the truth of this manor being the mayor’s office. It’s not that the mayor lives here by happenstance. This manor is the entrance to the hive itself!
The stallion bit his tongue in apprehension. If the entrance was that easy to locate, however, there had to be something more to it. Still, as Larynx walked through the door, giving no indication of stopping or waiting for the ponies to get over their surprise, Windspeaker decided to give pursuit. After all, Red Wings and Trixie had not slowed down ahead of them, and with his own still weak body, he could not afford to lose a single moment.
As he stepped past the door, Windspeaker instantly felt the climate change considerably, going from the cool air of the manor basement to a warmer, more damp environment. He gave a quick glance down the tunnel, pausing for a moment. Bioluminescent moss coated the passage, giving it an eery green glow. He cursed to himself as he looked down at the ground, seeing the many rocks. Windspeaker would have to be careful about where he walked, not wishing to risk injury to his atrophied form.
The group of six quickly walked through the entrance caverns, following the flaxen-coated pony. However, it didn’t take long for them to catch on to the hive’s defense mechanism against an invasion. Past the obscurity of the hive’s location, and its operational security, the way to the hive itself was a labyrinth. Larynx came to a three-way split in the path after about a minute, and didn’t hesitate to take the right path. Trixie, Stonehenge, Red Wings, Iceheart, Noire and Windspeaker, having no other choice, followed the Voice of the Empress down the right-hoof path.
Larynx himself seemed hesitant to change back to his true form, even after a few minutes in the winding passageway. For a few seconds, Trixie wondered if he was perhaps truly a pony instead, before she dismissed the notion. Even if he were perhaps a hybrid instead, Queens were too proud. They would never have a pony as their voice or right hoof.
Sure enough, after going past enough forks in the labyrinth that Trixie was certain she would not be able to ge back to the manor or find the hive in the first place, Larynx was suddenly engulfed in a green flame, and a black carapace replaced the straw-like coat. To Trixie’s surprise, the changeling had a mane, flaxen-coloured like his pony form had been. Very few changelings other than Queens had manes that were more than bits of stubble. For Larynx to have one meant he was a figure of importance, power, or both.
He did say he was the ‘Voice’ of the Empress, Trixie mused.
There was no sudden outburst of surprise. Everypony had expected Larynx to be a changeling, so his transformation was just the final proof. Instead, the seven equines continued to walk through many more twists and turns, leaving Trixie to muse whether this had truly been a hive built by the changelings, or if it had instead been a home of a herd of minotaurs first. Minotaurs were notorious for their love of mazes, after all, and the labyrinthine design of the Colt Springs hive would have suited the minotaur sense perfectly.
Suddenly, Larynx stopped.
Trixie took a few steps before she had the wherewithal to brake and not move another hoof forward. “Are we here?,” she asked, mustering up the energy to ask. Trixie wasn’t quiet out of breath yet, but she was glad for the stop.
“Not yet. Your companion needs rest.”
The unicorn mare knew which pony Larynx was talking about. Looking over to Windspeaker, Trixie was unsurprised to see Iceheart dabbing away at his forehead, wiping away a spot of sweat.
“Are you alright?,” Iceheart asked the stallion gently.
Windspeaker nodded, though he kept his eyes closed to stop the sweat from getting in his eyes. “Yes, I am. I just need to take a few minutes breather, thank you for asking, Iceheart. I am not used to the dampness and heat or even the exercise. At least if I were outside, the cool breeze would feel good on my coat.” Left unspoken was the fact that outdoors, Windspeaker alone could control the wind. Though the ponies knew that for a fact, Larynx did not. Windspeaker felt somewhat crippled. Though the wind could still be utilised down here, it was nowhere near as powerful as it was outdoors.
Larynx gave no indication of understanding the subtext of the conversation between Icehart and Windspeaker, nor did he attempt to make any small talk with the other four while they stretched and sat down to get a few minutes rest. Instead, his blue eyes continued to watch, never moving, only blinking. After several minutes had passed, he finally turned around and continued to walk.
“Let us continue.”
The ponies ambled on behind Larynx again, a little feeling of despair settling in. Though none of them thought they were walking into a trap, they were ponies. They were used to being outside, with a desire for the open meadow and the warm, welcoming sun. Being so far underground, especially in such narrow confines, was uncomfortable for them. At least for the four who had been to the Badlands Hive, the tunnels there had been wider, with many large, open rooms that had more natural lighting than the moss.
Instead, Trixie found herself focusing on minute, trivial things to distract from her boredom. She looked at the hoof outlines left in the dirt of the path by changelings past, strained her ears for the light ‘ploop!’ of water dripping off the roofs, and let her mind wander. Trixie thought about the day she had put on the Alicorn Amulet, when her life had gone even more downhill than it had at that point. To her surprise, Trixie realised it had been nearly four years since that fateful night. Where has the time gone?, she wondered.
“We are here.”
Startled, Trixie looked up. A medium-sized door greeted her sight, embedded into the heavy stone wall. The metal door looked positively ancient, half-rusted as if it was about to fall apart at any moment. Do they not get any visitors around here? I would not have expected them to keep something as corroded as this is for the Empress.
“Is there anything else, then? Or do we just go in?,” Stonehenge inquired.
The changeling ignored Stonehenge. Instead, Larynx cast magic again, opening the door. With a whine and a squeal on the hinges that caused the ponies to jump before putting their hooves over their ears, the two halves of the doors swung inward.
It revealed a moderately large chamber well-lit with torches of green flames. Compared to the irregular walkways in the caverns, the floor in here was smoothed out, with tiles built in for the first flat surface the ponies had seen in some time. There was little for decoration, with a single carpet rolling down the middle of the room. Twelve changelings stood guard around the carpet, six on either side in rigid formation. With the opening of the door, all twelve had turned to face them, observing the ponies with stone-faced gazes.
Trixie raised her eyes. There was a dais at the end of the carpet, and a single throne sat upon the dais. She squinted. The figure on the throne was obscure even in the better lighting of what might have been the throne room. Is that the Empress? Trixie’s heart beat faster as she realised she was potentially mere seconds away from meeting a changeling she had once thought to be a fairy tale.
Larynx moved ahead. The ponies followed behind him, before the flaxen-maned changeling suddenly turned around, stopping them only as soon as they had stepped onto the carpet.
“Do not walk any further. Stay here, and only come forward when I say so. I am the Voice of the Empress. For now, she will talk through me and me alone. Only if you are given permission may you be allowed to speak directly with her.”
The changeling’s blue eyes were ever more piercing than before, and for once Trixie thought she was able to see a hint of emotion in them, to feel something more than muted deadness in Larynx. Protectiveness, with just a bit of fondness, the mare decided. It wasn’t an odd thing if he was the Empress’ ‘Voice’. Still, his implied threat wasn’t one to take lightly, not that Trixie had any intent of challenging Larynx. The twelve changeling guards that stood behind him, each looking ready to fight at a moment’s notice, only helped to reinforce it.
Larynx turned around, and walked up to the dais. He stopped short of the stairs leading onto the dais, and fell onto three knees, keeping his left front limb up.
“Mother."
The figure didn’t move.
“Mother.”
Larynx repeated himself, a little louder this time.
This time, the figure stirred. Trixie raised her eyebrows in confusion. As the Empress shuffled, Trixie was able to see her colouration. Oddly, instead of being the pure jet-black with a coloured mane all Queens Trixie knew of had, the Empress seemed to be black-and-grey, and even the black parts lacked the normal shine of a changeling’s carapace.
“Mother.”
Larynx was once more slightly louder.
“Mmph. Is, is that you, Larynx?”
“It is I.”
“What business do you have today? Is it time for feeding again?”
“I have brought six ponies today who wished to see you. Two of them are half-breeds.”
“Mmph.”
The figure on the throne suddenly moved again, but it was not a quick motion. Instead, the Empress slowly readjusted her throne, turning around to face Larynx. Sluggishly, the Empress raised her head, such so that the ponies could finally see her face for the first time.
Trixie gasped as at last the oddities in the revelations Windspeaker had made about the Empress not leaving the hive in ages were explained, or the fact that there was a separate Queen in this Hive, the clues all coming together too easily. The Empress didn’t have a unique colouration of her carapace. Instead, like what happened to some of the truly oldest ponies, her carapace was beginning to lose its colour, with splotches of grey all over the place and cracks galore. The same was true for what must have once been a mane as rich with colour as Larynx’ was, now nearly pure white with only little bits of straw. Even the Empress’ eyes were abnormal, with one blue eye, and one a milky white.
Celestia and Luna had lived through the era of the Windigos and continued ruling. Like them, the Empress had lived through the era. However, unlike the two alicorn princesses, the Empress had grown old.