Pony Fortress 2: A Worthy Cause

by The Usurper

A Fate Worse Than Chess

Humiliation.

Protea's hooves scraped painfully against the floor as Pinkamena dragged her, hindlegs-first, through the harshly-lit halls of the Administrator's base. The manacles on all four of her legs, their chains hanging loosely as they were, still chafed painfully against her exoskeleton. An anti-magic horn ring rested squarely on her forehead.

With an uncomfortable bump, her head knocked against a protrusion on the floor. "Ouch."

"What?" Pinkamena snapped.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"Whatever I knocked my head against."

"Hm?" Pinkamena paused briefly and turned around. "Ah. Directional marker."

"Which means?"

"We're going the right way." She resumed her journey, examining the leg-chains for good measure.

Protea coughed. "... Listen, um, Pinkamena?"

"What now?"

"I have an offer."

Her ears perked up. "I'm listening."

"You love massacres, don't you?"

"A little."

"Well, here is your opportunity. It's a lot easier to kill unarmed civilians than armed changelings, isn't it?"

Pinkamena remained silent.

Protea pressed on. "Think about it. Hanging right above your head is the very capital of the Empire, teeming with defenseless citizens. I'll even let you slaughter half of the entire changeling army, for good measure. If you'll just let me go now—"

"We're here."

"Excuse me?"

"We're here." Pinkamena repeated, derailing Protea's train of thought. Grabbing her by the torso, Pinkamena flung her unceremoniously onto the rough, hard floor of the torture chamber.

Protea gasped. "But... my offer!"

"I will never, ever, ever, betray my father." Pinkamena growled. She stormed up to Protea and, with an angry stomp, hammered her chain into a notch on the floor. "Remember that."

And she slammed the door.

Darkness flooded the room for a split second, and then with a brilliant flash of fluorescent the room was bathed in the same artificial light of the hallways.

Protea tested the chains. They were now stuck firmly to the floor. Alone by myself, with only my thoughts to keep me company. How long has it been since I was last alone?

A long time, in fact. But yet perhaps not all that long. A Commander could be surrounded by her troops and still be alone. But nonetheless, the sheer silence and tranquility unnerved her for some reason. How long is it going to be before—

The door swung open. Protea's head snapped up, and her eyes widened.

"You." She breathed.

"Good afternoon." Ician - his name had been burned, forever, into her memory - was clad in the same gruesome outfit of changeling wings she'd seen him in earlier, but now with a set of saddlebags by his side. The vulture on his shoulder was gone, too. In place of the victorious smirk she expected to see on his face, there was instead a thoughtful frown. "How are you feeling?"

"How are you expecting me to feel?" She snarled. "Happy, I suppose?"

Ician nodded. "Point taken." He sat down beside Protea and pulled out what looked like a little wooden box. "Can I talk to you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not as a prisoner. As a person."

She paused. Could she?

"Or as a Commander, if you prefer." He offered.

"Why should I?" She asked balefully.

"Would you rather I treat you as a prisoner, then?" There was an edge in his tone.

"... No." She knew, if nothing else, when it was pointless to resist.

"Thank you." Ician set the box down on the floor between them and unfolded it.

Wait, unfolded it? No, it wasn't a box at all. It was a chessboard.

Ician spoke as he started pulling pieces out from within the hollow board. "So, I've heard about this system of command the changelings have."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And I've wondered... how are Commanders chosen?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Here in Equestria, our leaders - excluding the Royal family, of course - are selected based on a system of meritocracy." Ician set the last piece in place on the chessboard and spun it around, bringing the white king to Protea's right forehoof. "I'm a commander because I'm good at what I do. What about you?"

She huffed. "I am good at what I do, too."

Ician's eyes betrayed no amusement, no mocking. Only neutrality. "But is that why you were chosen?"

"What does that matter to you?" She snapped.

"Do you insist on knowing my motivations?" He replied coldly. "Or do I have to remind you that you are currently in a torture chamber?"

"Torture is not nearly enough to break me."

Ician sighed. "Then... how about a deal."

"... What?"

"A deal." He repeated. "We play a game of chess. Every time I take one of your pieces, you answer a question. Honestly. But don't worry." He tapped his black king piece idly. "The hard questions will be when I take your better pieces."

"And what do I get?" Protea demanded.

"Oh, it's simple." Ician stared straight at her. "If you win, I release you."

There was a brief pause as she assimilated what he had said.

"I don't believe you." She decided.

"Oh, come on now." Ician sighed. "Fine. In addition to that, I, too, will answer a question honestly every time you take one of my pieces. How does that sound?"

Protea glared at him. "How do I know you'll tell the truth?"

"How do I know you'll tell the truth?" He countered. "Mutual trust, Commander. Or mutual distrust, perhaps, as things stand." He waved at the white pieces. "Why don't you just make your move. Then we can continue talking."

"Ugh, fine." Protea pushed a pawn forward. "There. Your move."

"Mm." Ician stared at the board. "I see." In silence, he advanced his own pawn diagonally adjacent to Protea's.

She knew it was a poor tactic, but she wanted answers. Badly. In a flash, her white pawn stood where Ician's once had, the black gamepiece rolling on the ground. "Here. I've taken your pawn."

"So you have." He replied neutrally.

"You have to answer one of my questions."

"Indeed."

Protea took a deep breath. "... How did you manage to win that battle?"

Ician eyed her. "Which one?"

"The one you just commanded!" She snapped. "What other battles have you led?"

He chuckled. "You can only ask one question."

"That will be my second question, then." She looked Ician in the eyes, injecting as much hatred as she could into her glare. "Now, how did you manage to defeat me?"

"Oh, that was simple." He answered. "Just a little deception and classic misdirection. And weapon enhancements. And good mercenaries."

Protea's eye twitched. "You had eighteen of them. I had two thousand."

"It all balances out. As you've seen." He fiddled with another chess piece as he talked, setting it down on a different part of the board. "Besides, we had full control of the battlefield before you arrived, so it was easy to set up all the traps you fell into. You never just send troops in like that before gathering field intelligence."

"I..." A little spark of anger erupted. Without thinking, Protea made her next move. "Your tur-"

"Yours." Ician toppled one of her pieces - a pawn - with his knight. "Here's my question. How are Commanders chosen in the changeling army?"

He won't know if I lie. "Same as the Equestrian system. Meritocracy."

Ician sighed. "I thought you'd know better than to try and fool me. Do I have to explain it to you, or have your customs temporarily slipped your mind?"

She bristled. "You accuse me of deception?"

"Why not? If you're actually guilty, I see no reason to abstain." He gestured to the board. "It's your move."

Protea huffed, moving a piece up but refusing to concede the argument. "Prove it, then. Prove I'm lying."

"Very well. Let me explain your own military system to you." Ician advanced his bishop, but picked up his own black king as he played idly with it. "Every so often, there is a need for a Commander, whether it be through the retirement or death of an old one. A changeling is selected from among the newest hatchlings and given the bare minimum of love to survive a natural lifespan."

Her jaw fell slack. "How did you-"

"Whatever love is required would be obtained from pony captives or a few talented infiltrators into pony society. This changeling is made a commander, on the reasoning that a longer life translates to more experience." He glanced at Protea, a knowing smile on his lips. "Shall I go on?"

"No." She said curtly. "No more."

"Thank you." Ician manouevred his next piece into place. "Your move. And do try to be truthful next time."

Protea's right eye twitched involuntarily. "I will," she said through gritted teeth. She pushed one of her own pieces forward with excessive force.

"That's good." Ician calmly knocked over her piece and planted his knight in its place. "I'll have to take a rain check on that."

She blinked disbelievingly. A second later, her emotions kicked in, filling her to the brim and beyond. She opened her mouth, but through the choking anger in her throat no words came out.

"Yes?" Ician asked innocently.

"Just ask the damn question!" Protea snarled.

"No need to be so upset. I was just going to ask you how old you were."

"The army composition is three hundred – " She paused. "Wait, hold on. What did you say?"

"How old are you?" Ician repeated.

"Um... thirty-five."

"Wrong. Twenty-eight." He smiled at her. "Whatever happened to being truthful?"

"How do you know all this?" Protea demanded.

"I could call it a series of inspired guesses..." His smile widened. "Or perhaps I just know something you don't."

I'm going to find your spy, whoever he or she is, and rip their heart out! She wanted to scream. Instead, she said, "Maybe." But she was painfully aware that her face was contorted in anger.

Ician either didn't notice or didn't care, because he motioned to the board nonchalantly and mouthed 'your turn'.

I have a bad feeling about this.

---

The lights in the Administrator's base always struck Twilight as unnecessarily harsh. Just a bit too hard on the eyes.

Normally it wouldn't be a problem, because she rarely visited the base anyway and even if she did she wouldn't stay in there for very long. She'd come with a singular purpose - usually RED team business - and focus on it, to the exclusion of all else.

But now, trudging alone through the deathly silence of the dull corridors, she found herself wanting to think about anything but the battle she'd just fought. Which left her, unfortunately, with the substandard lighting.

Darn.

A thump, an enraged shout, and she realised that fate had seen fit to grant her a reprieve. Her eyes followed the noise to its point of origin.

It was a door. Plain as all the others she'd seen along the corridors, this one had only two details separating it from its brethren. One was a polished golden keyhole embedded prominently near the frame. The other was an elegantly carved stone sign with two words etched into its surface.

Torture Chamber, it read.

... Oh.

"What's the size of your army?!" A voice cried out from inside. A shouting match?

The response was muffled and nearly inaudible. Okay, maybe it's one-sided.

"No, you're lying! You have to be! You can't have just eighteen ponies!"

Again, the muffled and markedly calmer response. Definitely one-sided.

For a brief moment, Twilight hovered on the spot uncertainly. Then, out of sheer boredom and curiosity, she knocked.

No answer. Not even an indication that whoever was inside had heard. Of course.

Hesitantly, she pressed her ear to the keyhole. She almost fell over in surprise when the entire door swung open smoothly on well-oiled hinges.

"—eckmate." Somepony was saying.

"But... But... How?!" came the furious response.

"You were too focussed on taking my pieces."

Twilight leaned in further. Finally, she caught a proper glimpse of what was going on.

"Ician?" she asked.

Ician's ear twitched. He turned around slowly, a big smile on his face. "Princess! Welcome." Behind him, a chained changeling languished pathetically, staring at a chessboard set out between the two of them with evident disbelief.

"Protea, right?" Twilight offered.

The changeling said nothing, conveying the full force of a reply with a baleful glare at Twilight. She then turned her acid gaze to Ician. "How did she get in?"

"She... opened the door?" Ician gestured to the entrance. "Is this a trick question?"

"How did she get past a locked—" The changeling's eyes widened. "Oh sweet Chrysalis, that door was never locked, was it?"

"Not necessarily. Twilight may have a key." He pointed out.

"Does she?"

"No."

Twilight backed away. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, no, it's alright. I was just about to leave anyway." Ician stood up quickly and escorted Twilight out of the room. "I'll see you later!" he shouts to Protea.

"Oh no you—"

Ician slammed the door behind them. He drew a pink key out of his cloak, inserted it into the keyhole, and turned it sharply. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Princess."

"What did you do to her?"

"We played a game of chess, that's all." Ician pulled the key out of the hole and returned it to his cloak. "I think she overreacted, personally."

"Right..." He's not telling the full truth.

"Walk with me a little while, won't you Princess?" Ician began a forward stride back the way Twilight had come. "I'd like to show you something."

If there was anypony who could force her to think over today's battle, it would be Ician. "I'd love to, but—"

"It's something about Pinkie."

Twilight stopped abruptly. "... Lead the way."

---

The journey took them through a series of virtually identical corridors. By the time Ician stopped in front of perhaps the hundredth drab grey featureless door they'd passed, Twilight had lost her way at least five times.

"You know, I always thought this place would be more... lively. Chaotic." She remarked.

"Mm. So did I. But order in itself is just a dormant form of chaos." Ician pushed the door open and stepped in, motioning to Twilight to enter.

She did. It gave a strange sensation; after so long of treading the unyielding, clinically clean stone that made up most of the floor of the Administrator's base, she nearly fell over in surprise when her right forehoof sank three centimetres into a layer of dust.

"Watch your step." Ician added unnecessarily.

"What's there to watch?" Twilight withdrew her hoof quickly and shook off the dust.

"You're leaving a trail." He pointed at the floor. For the first time, she noticed two sets of hoofprints leading to the inner corner of the room, towards a set of rickety wooden shelves shrouded in relative darkness.

"Who else was in here?" Twilight asked.

"Me, and another before me." Ician made his way, step by dusty step, to the shelves. "Can you guess?"

"The Administrator?" She followed him carefully, flapping her wings in an effort to keep her hooves above the carpet of dust.

"Not quite."

"Then..." She inhaled sharply. "... Pinkie?"

Ician didn't answer. He lifted his armoured hoof off the dust-caked floor and slid across the similarly dust-caked shelves. It collided with a thick file. "This is it."

Twilight's horn came awash with a soft purple glow, encapsulating the file in her magic aura and floating it over to her. "'The Interview Files'?"

"Yes, Princess." Ician tapped the lower half of the file. "Brought here by Diana herself."

"You mean Pinkie?"

"You'll find, I believe, that they are discrete entities." He said. "Chapter four."

Twilight skimmed through the pages. "Is this a record of all the interviews?"

"Yes, including the one in which you were killed." Ician acknowledged. "But this account gives the full story."

"How much more of a story could there be?" The last page of chapter three flipped itself over. She began to read.

"From the Pyro herself? A lot." Ician stood by passively and watched Twilight. "You might be surprised to learn that Pinkie is no exception from the adage 'everypony is the hero of their own story.'"

"Oh, right, because I'm so sure she had a... oh my Celestia." She breathed. "The Elements of Harmony?"

"Yes. The Elements." He replied. "It gives a lot of insight into the Administrator's motives, don't you think?"

"This answers everything... the identical teams, Rainbow's disappearance, the hunt for the BLU Demomare... the base invasion." Her jaw hung slack. "I just can't believe it."

"You haven't reached Pinkie's own interview yet, have you?"

Still reeling from the revelation, Twilight answered quietly, "There's going to be another surprise, isn't there?"

Ician smiled. "What do you think?"

"... There's one thing I can't figure out, though," she continued as she read.

"What?"

"Why would the Administrator leave this on a shelf where anypony could just walk in and find it?"

---

"You did what?!" Diana shouted.

"Now, now, my dear, surely you didn't think I'd make you write that report for nothing, did you?" The Administrator, perched comfortably on his armchair, gave her a winning smile.

She didn't buy it. "It was supposed to be for your future servants," she ground out, "not your enemies!"

"Everypony in this base works for me, remember?"

"They're still your enemies!" She hissed.

"Not right now, they aren't." The Administrator swiveled on his chair, turning his focus to the rows of ever-present computer screens looking over his shoulder. "Besides, I have a plan. I always do."

"Now if only you'd tell me what it is." Diana muttered sourly.

"Trust me. After all, there's no way I'd ever—"

---

"— do something that would disadvantage himself without a good reason." Ician said. "If he left this out in the open for everypony to see, it's because he's up to something."

"How do we know if any of this is true, then?" Twilight waved the file in his face. "'The offspring of a love affair between schizophrenia and split-personality disorder'? It's totally bizarre!"

"With the Administrator, bizarreness is the best proof there is." Ician pushed the file back to her, smiling. "Either way, it matches up with what we know so far. Or at least what I know so far."

"How much do you know so far?"

"... Not very much." He admitted. "But enough to know that there's at least a seven-in-ten chance that what you've just read is completely factually accurate."

"That high?"

"Yes."

"... I guess I can't argue with the odds." Twilight moved to replace the file on the shelf, but Ician stopped her with a gentle prod of his armoured hoof.

"Take it with you." Ician gestured at the file. "You'll need to know everything in there."

"Won't the Administrator notice?"

"He already has. So don't bother." Ician tilted his head upwards. Twilight followed his gaze to a dimly blinking red light in the darkened corner of the ceiling.

She recoiled. "He's been watching us this whole time?"

"Of course. He's always watching us." He pointed at the camera. "So long as we're in the general vicinity of the base, consider yourself under surveillance."

Twilight swallowed. "So does that mean that—"

"Yes, he has cameras in the toilets. And the bathrooms. And the floor, though those have been disguised to look like directional markers." He shrugged. "He has the authority, after all. It is his base."

"I'm... not even surprised." She winced. "But I don't like the idea of being stared at while I'm doing my... business."

"Well, there's no privacy in this place." Ician set off towards the door. "You'll have to get used to that."

Twilight looked down at the file, then back at Ician's retreating form. She followed him wordlessly into the corridors.

The lighting didn't seem to bother her as much anymore.

---

The first thing Exos noticed when he awoke was the rain.

It came down in heavy cascades, bringing a steady pitter-patter as each volley met the roof of the empty wooden shack he and the Medic had holed themselves up in. Outside the sole window, he could see small rivers of water washing over the battleground, carrying with them the stench of death.

He sat up quickly and immediately collapsed back down onto the floorboards. A stabbing pain lanced through his side.

"Don't move," came the soft voice of the Medic. "You'll only make it worse."

"Yeah." Exos grunted. "Okay. Right." He let his body relax. "Did anything happen while I was asleep?"

"Nothing at all, Officer." The Medic knelt down beside him. The soothing sensation of a healing beam assuaged his throbbing side.

He let out a breath - one he hadn't realised he'd been holding - in a sigh of relief. "That's... a lot better. Thank you."

The Medic nodded dutifully. "My pleasure."

They sat there for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. Exos couldn't guess at what his companion's might be, but for himself, all he wanted right now was a little peace and quiet. The constant but monotonous hammering of the rain was dull enough to lull him back into the world of dre—

brzzt

He shot up, just one unfortunate millisecond before he remembered that his side was not yet fully healed. "Ow ow ow ow!"

"Officer! I told you not to do that!"

"Never mind about my wound." He looked around, wincing as the pain died away with agonising slowness. "What was that noise?"

The Medic's gaze travelled across the room. "I think it's your walkie-talkie."

"My..." The colour drained from his face. "Fetch... fetch it for me, please."

"Yes, Officer." The Medic moved to the nearest corner of the room. Amongst a pile of his other belongings - his armour, Exos noted, was still in pretty good condition - she drew out his faithful walkie-talkie, vibrating in the throes of a call, and brought it to him.

Exos answered the call with trepidation. "Officer Exos here."

"Exos!" Queen Chrysalis' voice snapped. "Why isn't Protea answering my calls?"

Oh dear.

---

The day had started so well. So well.

Queen Chrysalis, ruler of all changelings, had awoken in a good mood. After all, when an entire army was flying off to destroy one of the biggest thorns in your side since the beginning of the First Civil War, it wasn't difficult to keep a smile on your face.

So she'd waited for the news of victory. And waited. And waited. But the day wore on and she didn't receive a single call. She eventually got fed up enough to call her Commanders directly from her personal telephone, but even that didn't work. So she tried the next in line.

That worked. But she was beginning to wish it hadn't.

"... other Commanders have been killed. So has the army." Officer Exos was saying. "We two here, plus Commander Protea, are the only survivors."

"The only survivors?" She whispered, horrified.

"I'm... afraid so, my Queen." He hesitated. "What would you have us do now?"

"All of them..." She shook her head vigorously. Mourn them later. "Are you injured?"

"Slightly." Exos said.

"Very, my Queen." Another voice, presumably his Medic, chipped in.

Very, then. "Can you still move?"

"Yes." Over on the other end of the call, there was a sharp inhalation of breath. "Just not that quickly."

"Retreat to Canterlot. How long would that take?"

"Some time, I'm afraid." Exos admitted. "In my current state, it could be a day just to reach the foot of the mountain."

"I'll have troops waiting nearby." Chrysalis snapped. "Stay alive, Officer."

"Your wish is my command, my Queen." The line went dead.

For a long while, she simply stared at the device. Then she dropped it to the floor and crushed it under her hoof, grinding it to dust.

---

"Okay, Exos, calm down, calm down..." Exos took a deep breath and shut his eyes. "Just... calm down." He exhaled noisily. "Alright, I think I'm ready."

"We've no time to lose, Officer." The Medic stood by the door, her tail already drenched from the unrelenting rain. "We need to move out now to have even a chance of reaching Canterlot mountain before nightfall."

"I'm coming." He hobbled awkwardly over to the door, fidgeting in the armour that pressed all-too-hard against his wounds. "I just hope the Commander is well off."

"I'm sure we all do." The Medic replied with studied neutrality.

"I can't imagine..." He shuddered. "Hopefully she's not being subjected to a fate worse than..."

---

"Chess!" Protea fumed. "Chess! How did he manage to beat me in chess?"

The walls of the empty torture chamber, of course, offered no reply.

"I always win when I play against the other changelings!" she continued. "How could this happen?"

More silence.

"How?" She snarled. She wanted so badly to break something - anything! - but the chains kept her firmly anchored to the spot.

Not, of course, that there was anything to break anyway. This torture chamber was bare enough that nothing was even close to being within her reach.

She lapsed into silence. Clearly the room wasn't going to answer her, and even if it could she wasn't sure she'd want to know the answer. Better to just chalk it up to luck and leave it at that.

The wound in her ego mended itself slightly.

She heard a sound. Her ears perked up. Somepony was unlocking the door.

It swung open and Ician stepped in. "Good evening."

"So that's what time it is now?" she replied.

"Late evening, in fact." Ician trotted in, leaving the door open. "It's raining pretty heavily right now, too. I hear the Administrator summoned a storm to clean the battlefield. Good thing he remembered to keep it a rain of water instead of chocolate milk this time."

"'This time'?" Protea asked. "Since when has it rained chocolate milk?"

Ician dodged the question. "Anyway, I'm just here to tell you two things. One, I won't be around tomorrow. I have some, ah, business to take care of. So you'll be alone here. Sound good?"

"Anything to keep me away from you." She said acidly.

"Or I could leave Pinkamena here to babysit."

Protea grimaced. "No. Just... no."

"The second thing is that you won't be here for long. Everypony's decided that we'll be ransoming you back to Chrysalis."

"What, am I too much trouble here?" She snarked.

"Yes, you're using up too much of our breathable air. We need it for the useful ones." He twirled his armoured forehoof nonchalantly. "We're still thinking up a price. The general consensus, though, is below ten dollars."

"Below ten dollars." Protea deadpanned. Not going to believe that.

"I disagreed, though."

"Really."

"Yes." He set down his hoof. "I didn't think the oxygen you wasted was worth that much."

"Uh huh." She glared at him. "Do you have any other news, or are you here to rile me up?"

Ician smiled. "No other news. I just wanted to make sure that you didn't worry about me."

"I'd never worry about you."

"Of course you wouldn't." He chuckled. "Anyway, one last thing."

"What?"

He reached into his cloak and pulled out a white pawn piece. He smirked. "This is for you." With a flick of his hoof, the pawn fell to the floor, bouncing once and rolling the rest of the distance to Protea's hooves.

Protea looked at it, then at him. "What...?"

"Just something to keep you company." Without another word, he pivoted on his hooves and marched back to the door. He left the room quickly. The door slammed shut behind him, the locking mechanism sliding into place with a soft click.

Protea stared at the pawn. Was he trying to tell her something?

She decided that it didn't matter. All he'd given her was something to break.

She drifted peacefully off to sleep that night, lying contentedly beside a little mound of white dust. It felt almost like home.

Comments

[The Usurper]

Well everyone, here's the latest chapter. I'm sorry it took so long... again... and... well, let's just say I don't feel as driven as I used to. Hopefully that changes by the time my major exams pass. In the meantime, here's a chapter to keep you busy.

Also, since I think nobody would have noticed it, I did a little retcon back in Meet the Engineer, in the prequel. The definition of BLU has been changed. You'll find in the chapter after this one that RED has been defined as well. Just thought you all might want to know.

[The electric bomber]

Still worth the wait! Hope you are at least driven enough to finish this.

[The Usurper]

4578996
It may take a while, but I want to finish this, I really do. I even have a whole story structure planned out, which is a lot more than I've done for previous stories, though it occurs to me now that I really should have done that for my previous stories... ah well.

[The electric bomber]

4579009 what's done is done, you can't really change the past. All you need to know is that you wrote good stories and brought joy to anyone who has read them. And as the clichè and over used saying goes, you only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough

[Chrome Masquerade]

fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/242/6/b/team_foaltress_2_by_smashinator-d48c40b.jpg

[Tensemasterhalo]

Protea was able to take two of his pieces, right? She got the first pawn and asked how he won. The second time she asked what his army size was, so would that mean it was a pity question or did she actually take two pieces?

[The Usurper]

4581266
You've seen her take two pieces. There was a delay in between the time when Twilight came by and the time when she took the first piece, so there are possibly other pieces taken. But two are confirmed. Ician does not give answers unless he has to.

And the answers he gives... aren't necessarily wrong, but are often misleading.

[Dr.LunyJoy]

4584381
Good chapter. I wish to see more

As a reader, could I request that in future chapters you add a little more cross team tensions?

P.S.
Love the portrayal of the changelings.
And Ician.

[The Usurper]

4612808
Why thank you. I can certainly promise more cross-team tension - it's on the plan - though it will be centred more around Twilight, Rainbow, and Pinkie (RED, RED, BLU).

[Crimson Dawn]

Hmm now that Twilight has the record will she tell Dash that Pinkie does not hate her and is being forced to do things she does not want to really do somewhat for the greater good? Will Dash believe it? If she does what would she do about it?

[predatornc]

and now I finally wait for the chapters