Collateral

by Ogopogo

Chapter III - Inflitration

Regardless of who they were, or why they were here, it was the same process over and over again.

The castle gates stood across from the cafe at which I sat, nibbling away at a cinnamon bun. It was pathetic how this little piece of food dispelled all their fears, as if it had been hammered into their head that we couldn’t eat. I finished the last bite of the sticky bun, flitting my gaze from the paper before me to the gates at the end of the road.

In some ways, I pitied the ponies who had to undergo such scrutiny simply to be allowed entry. That same pity quickly vanished, though, when I remembered just how they would treat me if given the chance. Each time a pony walked up to the gate, a unicorn would lean forward and cast the simple scanning spell. It was even more pathetic that they didn’t even have a working one.

Well, not entirely anyway.

All the spell did was disorient and upset any enchantments of magical residue, which could easily destroy any transformation and snap back our identity. But theoretically, with enough focus, I could walk through ten unicorns casting the same spell, with little more than a buzzing headache. It only targeted the first facet of our magic, the fires of change, through similarities alone. It wasn’t something I was going to leave to chance, however. I may be good, but I wasn’t that good.

The airspace above the castle offered no solution either, with flights of pegasi endlessly circling the castle, searching for intruders. I suppose there was always the sewers. However, that was a little too cliche (and disgusting) for my tastes. Without an obvious solution, it was all I could do to sit here, running ideas through my mind and watching them crash like a derailed train.

A thought struck me. Maybe they had no idea of our second facet of magic: illusion. Our strain of magic allowed us to reshape who we were, but also light and sound. We could create phantoms that were not there, objects which shimmered brightly on the darkest of nights, echoing wind underground... anything. The only challenge facing me was the natural difficulty of the magic. Unlike our transformations, illusions required our constant attention, and most of us could only manage one or two at a time.

Most of us...

Teacher had drilled me in the second form of changeling magic to the extent where it no longer required much, if any, concentration. Similarly to how a skilled musician lets his hooves flow over his instrument without placing each step in their mind, I could manage a few simple illusions in the same way. I could even complete them without looking.

The stolen bits danced upon the countertop, the payment taking a few seconds to fall flat. I wasn’t there to see the finale, already well across the street towards the dimly lit alley, even in midst of this summer heat. Secure in the safety of my solitude, the fires of changed coursed over me, making the necessary alterations. I stepped back into the light, now a tawny brown stallion with a shade darker mane, completing the facade with a set of ethereal saddlebags. Upon my approach, directly to the gates, the guards rapidly took note.

“Sir,” instructed a pegasus, unfurling his wings slightly as if readying for battle, “You are going to have to wait in line like everyone else.”

“No, I cannot!” I exclaimed loudly.

“You can and you will,” insisted the guard. “It is imperative to the security of Equestria that y-”

“No!” I shouted, interrupting the re-hashed bullshit. “It’s imperative that I report directly to the princesses regarding what myself and others have unearthed regarding the scanning spell used by the Royal Guard.”

“Yes, what of it?” the guard asked, suddenly far more attentive.

“It does not even come close to exposing the frequencies of the changelings’ magic. Our tests yielded only a forty-three prec-”

“Hold on a moment,” the guard stated. “The spell we use works just fine!”

“Perhaps,” I agreed, feigning a glow around my horn, “But then again, it would be just like a changeling to say that!” This entire plan rested on the discipline of the guard, in that they would not budge the slightest unless I was deemed a threat. I wound an illusion of a changeling over the guard, matching his stance. I only let the illusion stand for a brief moment, before layering the visage of green flames (a trademark of the invasion) across him, to make it appear as if he rapidly re-disguised himself.

The guard, thinking the green flash in his vision was a byproduct of my “scanning spell”, appeared unamused. “Really, and what did you expect to accomplish with that?”

“Oh, I think we all saw what you truly are, changeling, even if you do not realize it,” I declared, waving a foreleg at the ponies around me. They no longer saw me as a threat; the guard has taken my place.

His emotions changed from that of stubborn arrogance, to horror, then anger as he recognized the cause of all of this. With a cry, he leapt at me. But what he saw as a move to protect Equestria, the other guards saw as a changeling assassination attempt. He didn’t even make it half the distance before being blasted into unconscious.

“I’ll repeat myself, it is imperative that I see the princesses at once!” I urged the unnerved guards. “Who knows how deep this goes?”

I was betting that the second-in-command would be spooked to the point where he would let me through without second thought. I had bet right.

“Yes... A-Absolutely...” the guard stammered, his mind churning away desperately. He, along with the other guards, now faced the challenge of trying to contain the crowd, who might not regard their word as legitimate.

But that wasn’t my problem now was it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really should have thought further ahead; I was hopelessly lost.

The castle was complete with many spoils for the rich and wealthy, even an elaborate hedge maze. Let me put it to you this way: I would have just as much luck in those walls of greenery as I was having in this maze of marble. Each hallway and corridor spiraled off into a webway of rooms and galleries, all distinctly unique, yet none provided a point of reference. With the castle on edge, I couldn’t retrace my steps, nor could I look into every room without appearing highly suspicious. Instead, I had to wander the halls, relying on my senses to tell me whether the room contained a pony or not, feeling for the telltale signs of emotions.

There were a few doors, however, which swung open now and again, offering a view of the castle life. It only served to disgust me further. Just how much was done by the servants and staff? Anyone with influence, bits, lineage or all three, consumed their labour without so much as a word of thanks. Worse still, the servant ponies who doted on them horn and hoof did so willingly, either ignorant or unconcerned at the lack of respect they received.

Despite all this, and how painful it was to admit, I needed help. Without a guide or map I could be wandering around until the Gates of Tartarus froze shut. The only problem was finding a pony who would help me, who wouldn't dismiss me as suspicious. I took a moment, stepping into a broom closet, to change back into the parody of myself. If the guards from the gate came looking for me, and found the same unicorn wandering the halls far away from the throne room... yeah, it wouldn’t end well.

Rounding a corner, I came across a light pink mare struggling with a tub of laundry, her lavender mane tied back in a loose bun. Taking the opportunity, I rushed over to help, smiling at the strain of relief which surged through her. With a few subtle nudges, she guided us through the halls to her destination, remaining quiet all the while.

“Thanks for your help,” she said finally, wiping her brow with a hoof. “Guess I underestimated how much that would weigh.”

“No problem,” I replied cheerfully.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” she added, examining me with unjudging rose eyes. “You new?”

“Yeah,” I sheepishly muttered. “Kinda lost too.”

“Don’t worry,” she assured me. “Most of us got lost on our first few days here too. I’d be more than happy to give you a tour.”

I nodded my head, struggling to contain a smirk of victory. “That’d be great.”

“Alright, let me just put this back, and we’ll get started. I’m Pastel, by the way,” she said, offering a hoof.

“Amethyst,” I supplied, grasping the offered hoof.

“So what do you do around here?” I asked, following her towards what I assumed was the supply room.

“I’m part of housekeeping,” she explained. “I take care of the many rooms in the castle. Vacuuming, cleaning... that sort of thing.”

I took a glimpse back at her cutie mark, noticing the picture of a feather duster. You might have noticed it already, but I didn’t really remember ponies by their cutie marks. Even with my own parents, I recognized their... how do I put this?... emotional frequency more than their appearance. This was mainly due our differing genetics.

Changelings never really relied on looks to identify each other, mainly because of how similar we all looked. We weren’t like ponies in that we had thousand of hues and colours. We only had one: black. Technically, that wasn’t true if you considered our manes and tails, but those were rare things amongst the hives.

Everyone, anything, had its own signature; its own way of greeting life. Emotion was a deep ocean, as vast as the sky. Even amongst ourselves, we could recognize how each individual changeling felt when we permitted each other access. The mingling of these emotions allowed for love to remain unspoken and anger to be clearly wrought. In retrospect, that seventh sense (the sixth being magic) was what likely propagated the myth of the ‘hive mind’.

The changeling race’s notorious secrecy didn’t help, either. Masters’ knew how long it took for me to understand the fragments that I had gathered. If it wasn’t for Mirra, my teacher, my heritage would have remained a mystery.

I came out of my thoughts, realizing Pastel had spoken to me. “Sorry,” I blurted, “something just popped into my mind. You were saying?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she insisted, waving a hoof. “I was just asking what your job around the castle is.”

“Um...” I stammered. Once again, I cursed myself for not thinking this through.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, brightening as her eyes looked slightly off to the side. “You must be one of the couriers.”

Following her eyes, I half-turned to see the saddlebags still in place, the very same ones from the previous illusion. A pang of worry ran through me; I was getting sloppy. Being sloppy meant one thing and one thing only: I was nearing the end of my magic. Forcing myself to chuckle, I faced her again. “Yeah, that’s it. I can be a bit of a featherbrain at times.”

Pastel giggled, the warm flow of energy washing over me. “I know that feeling all too well,” she answered, with a wide smile. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was mind-boggling, thinking about just how much went on inside the castle. Let me use the kitchen as an example; Pastel had explained the symphony of chaos within that tight space, the kitchen helpers skirting by as we walked through. The smells, the sounds, the organization... I really didn’t know how to explain how astonishing this was. I mean, I had seen the workings of restaurant kitchens before, but none could compare to this. In the din, I tried to shout Pastel a question as we passed by the stoves, pots boiling away furiously, but she merely shook her head, and indicated we head out.

“How does all this work?” I asked.

“It’s like looking in a clock,” she explained. “You’ll never figure it out by just looking at it. You have to take it apart to learn how it ticks.”

I nodded my head in understanding, the memories rushing back to me. “That sounds like what my dad used to say.”

“He sounds like a wise stallion, I bet...” She trailed off as she noticed my dejected look and realized the tone I had taken. My ears had flattened against my head as I stared at the ground. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I buried them both yesterday,” I said, a tear already burning in my eyes. The wound was so fresh, and cut so deep that it would have been pointless to hide my emotions. “I was so excited to finally get a job at the castle, that I was late coming to see them. The house burnt down with them inside. I never even got a chance to say goodbye.”

I sighed. “Or, tell them that I lov-”

Petal rushed forward and embraced me tightly. “I am positive they knew you loved them with all your heart. Wherever they are, they’ll be proud of you.”

How was it right that I felt guilt for her sympathy? When she was practically handing me her soul, I could do nothing but consume it with ready hunger. The tears for my parents mixed with those for myself. Would my parents really be proud with what I had become? Was my revenge truly just and right? Even if it wasn’t, my life was damned and destroyed, and its ashes were all I had.

Slowly, she withdrew, letting me stand on my own four hooves again. “Sorry,” she murmured, “But I have to get back to work. If you need anyone to talk to, just ask around for me.”

“Thank you,” I said, sincere. “For everything.”

I watched her for a few moments before refocusing on my mission, my goal. It was a short walk to the staircase, but an even longer climb to the top. This staircase, the longest in the castle, had one thing in particular that the others did not. Her room would bathe in a radiant glow, just like our world did, destroying this blight, this cancer, at its core.

Author's Note:

Exams are now over. Updates will become much more frequent.

Comments

[DerpedRainbow]

Well this does seem promising and since it is a rewrite (no spoilers people. Please.) I know that it will be good. Also two things, 1 the wanted poster mispelled Changeling at one point, and 2:.... FIRST!!!

[Ogopogo]

1805734

Wouldn't worry about that, as the rewrite will not be sticking to the original plot word for word.

[ThatAw3someBr0ny]

cdn.memegenerator.net/instances/400x/24364141.jpg

Also: SECOND!!!

[intherainbowfactory]

Bloody brilliant, m8!