Travelbug
Specifics. Pharynx sort of had a knack for those. Not generalizations, those were fair and simplistic to throw together in a manner of hours, or days even if he wanted to really think into that echelon of thought. If a simplistic specific were to be asked, Pharynx would nod and ask, "Which one?"
It only came with the territory of managing an entire military. And the logistics to ensure the military can have its share while keeping the rest of the kingdom afloat. After all, a Prince isn't a Prince if he cannot do Princely duties. Even if said Princely duties were, traditionally speaking, not this kind of duty. Pharynx didn't mind, no; he enjoyed this. It gave him full control over his aspect of controlling the kingdom.
A diarchy of brothers in all but name. Thorax handled diplomacy, being the face of the kingdom as well as keeping bugs happy and in tune with what they want to do or can do. Pharynx handled pretty much all the important number crunching, keeping the borders stout and their enemies defeated.
Those sorts of things build a figure into what they are, or who they can be. Of course, one could reject these ideas or regulations and just split off to do their own, insignificant thing. This is your Bluebloods of the royals. Pretend to be useful for nobody but themselves.
This is where Pharynx rationalizes this briefing he's being received by this pony in polished armor and ribbons that he definitely didn't earn through combat. This stallion was a Blueblood type, for sure. Snout aimed high as his horn bubbled a disgusting pink, the same pink that was levitating a pointing stick to a board. He tapped at the map of the Frozen North, his monotonous voice droning on and on and on...
"Frozen North is, well, frozen. We'll supply you with warmth packets, enchanted blankets and food you can easily cook up even in those negative degree climates. Your supply will be enough for about a two weeks' trip. Then we'llalalblablablabla...blablablabla...blaaaahhh...blaa...."
Were important words even coming out of this stallion's mouth any more? The more Pharynx gave him a few seconds of his attention, the more he regretted it each time. Of course he listened, but it seemed like it was more expository than important at this rate.
He rested his chin on a hoof, staring at the stallion's mouth. Could ponies ever get tired of their own voices? Apparently not. This pony needed a voice to reassure him. Yet, he's the only one here so he'll supply it for himself.
Sounds strangely like that one stallion who screamed like a pony filly at that large fountain during the invasion.
Pharynx huffed a smile, interrupting the stallion for only a moment. Returning a look, the stallion slowly moved back into his presentation- no, a briefing of the mission he was handing the Prince of Changelings. Though, he had an inkling most of his words weren't reaching the Prince's ears. Nonetheless, he marched on with his verbal assault.
Words meshed into one another, like the screeching of blades crossing in a parry in Pharynx's ears. He flinched with a sound akin to the striking of blades, each new sentence was another clash that only melted into his brain and lulled his eyelids a little bit lower each time.
"...blalbalba...laabalaaa.....blaaaeeeerrrwwwww...We don't know much about wildlife up there, but the Crystal Empire seems to have a distinctive red warning flag all over it. Not much to be said there. Expect some trouble once you leave the Empire. Crystal clear on that regard, hehe..."
Pharynx's tongue snaked around one of his fangs. Remain awake. Find something. Suppressing a yawn, his eyes began discreetly scanning the room instead.
Trachea, the crotchety old manticore, had been hitched outside for this event. Pharynx predicted such a boring feat and would not have his newly acquired companion deciding it would rather treat this middle-aged stallion as a chew toy instead of one of Celestia's prized officers of her palace garrison. A pathetic garrison.
His eyes immediately scanned the room. If it could even be called one. It can, it's just.. it was a small room. One for an emergency addition like himself to a probable high-alarm cause that was the missing unit. Seemed more like a janitor's closet, but not at the same time. A single lamp hung from the ceiling, hastily put there with three different types of rope tied into one another.
The small light gave way to a single, closed window to his right. Dust outlined most of it, and the sill was more gray than it was the brown it was painted to be underneath the muck of cobwebs and dust bunnies. Debatably archaic looking, debatably unmaintained.
Armor clanked as the officer repositioned himself. He spun the framed board to the other side, stopping it with a clink of his polished shoe and the cheap metal holding the board. The pointing stick tapped some more against the labels and names. "You'll be expected to meet and alert the Empire's royalty of your presence and intentions.. although they're in a.. flurry of issues right now on their own... heh.."
Directing his attention to the other side of the room, was a few busted up training dummies and cracked wooden training swords. Was that a training lance stashed underneath the chaotic pile of swords? This room is definitely ancient. Why would they stash him here with this sniveling officer trying to tell him what's what and who's where?
There's no way they're this disorganized.
They are.
To all of the lords of bugs above, how did they lose to this?!
The stallion's voice gave an inflection, a questioning one at that.
Oh no, that was a question.
Pharynx twitched his upper lip subconsciously as a way to transition into a beautifully composed face. He stared into the officer's eyes, grunting noncommittally. Confused, the officer looked left and right before back at Pharynx. He raised a hoof to quickly adjust his glasses before stealing a look at the spin board behind him, then back at Pharynx.
"Milord, are you okay?" The officer asked. His bespectacled, middle-aged face creased a brow with a regal air of concern.
Pharynx rolled a shoulder to get blood flowing through his still body. "Yes. On with it."
The officer eyed the Prince some more but ended it with a shrug. He slapped the bottom of the board. It spun on the frame before coming to a rest at his halting hoof, revealing multiple listed words and phrases.
"As I was saying, the small patrol we dispatched composed of several vanguard units with Marshall Tempest Shadow. They were supposed to report back via magic transportation of documented reports every five days. Unfortunately, they've yet to report a single time. It's been twelve days since their departure, and the concern is very high for their well-being.
"Their call-signs for this operation known officially as Operation Glass, were Cavalier 1 through 6. Cavalier 1 would be Marshall Tempest Shadow, the assigned officer and leader of this patrol. They took a train to the Crystal Empire and traveled on-hoof to the Frozen North."
"With no established contact points?" Pharynx cut in, idly watching a giant clunk of dust fall to the ground. Why are they even in here if it's so forgotten? He's royalty, for pete's sake. He should be getting an at least presentable room. Then again, you're the 'ling who refuses to yield.
For good reason.
"Contact points? Where?" The officer asked. He looked to the board, then back at the Prince of Changelings. The magicked pointing stick tapped on the board three times. "It's too remote to create any so deep into the North."
Pharynx rolled his jaw. This was.. not good. He looked to the officer dead in his bespectacled eyes, "None of them had the initiative nor the orders to establish an HQ or any communications point in the Crystal Empire, or at least near it before they decided to travel into no creature's land?"
"Deuhh.. You see.. I-.. Nnnnnno. Nopony thought about that," he admitted meekly.
Pharynx nodded, giving the board an even look. He thought for a moment. Why even bother? They were clearly goners at this point, and it seemed that the Princesses were desperate for somepony to make a difference. Somepony to save them. They really expected him?
Pharynx wasn't a good pony. He ensured that when he assisted in the Canterlot siege more than he should've. He destroyed ponies' lives, and enjoyed doing it. Yes, he reveled in it. He's not ashamed and won't ever be of his actions as they are justifiable. 'War crimes' came to be because the ponies created their own suggestion draft of things one shouldn't do. No one else follows it but them, so is it really universal?
Even if the 'lings had adhered to it, the Prince doubts they'd uphold it in the invasion. After all, the wind screeching in his ears while he flew across the large, sprawling city of Canterlot was intoxicating by itself. Not to mention the overwhelming taste of fear and surprise that swelled his core, mixing with the camaraderie of his fellow 'ling, pulsating with the orders of the Queen. March onwards, and destroy anything you see.
Diving down on the horrified populace, crashing into so many innocent lives. Destroying what they knew, and cherished. Sucking up the emotions of their loved ones before their very eyes, leaving them to rot as husks of themselves, never to be restored. He laughed in a colt's face, watching in horror as his beloved father pleaded for mercy. Mercy? What mercy was there, to leave Pharynx and his own people starving? If he didn't want to share, then Pharynx would take.
Take, he did.
It was a proud duty to do such a thing for the Hive. A historical day, defeat or victory. A sick satisfaction of seeing lives be snuffed out; innocent twinkles in their eyes extinguished into traumatized sheens of terror. Lovers permanently separated, and families shattered for decades to come. All in the name of Queen Chrysalis. A true honor to serve for her, indeed.
Yes, she had her faults. She definitely hoarded more supplies for herself than what was needed, for the sake of appearing wealthy. She taught the Hive propaganda, and also indirectly taught them how to see through propaganda. Her lies, deception and cruelty to her own people was a toughening serum for the concoction of a fearless, brutal fighting force she would spawn years later for the invasion.
While not entirely caring, she was a true leader when it mattered. Fear and punishment were fine examples to keep them in line, because if one were to create an empire of nothing but love and compromise, they're destined to be steamrolled into oblivion by competition as tough as a rusty nail. Which is nothing.
Pharynx really should crack down on those failed protocols in training. Chrysalis did, and the entire armed forces of the Hive dismantled the entire Equestrian army and nearly subdued all Princesses. Save for a magical conundrum of.. the event, the Hive would be prospering right now.
Yet, here they were.
Every other changeling felt remorse, or a semblance of regret for their actions. They talked at those friendship whatever council circle things about how much they felt bad, and had actually visited the homes of those affected and gave as much as they could to help out what they had taken, destroyed or tainted. Pharynx? He'd still stare down those he had wronged to even the most severe degree, and be confused as to why they wanted sympathy.
He might as well have left hundreds dead in Canterlot after he was through with them. After all, he was separated from Chrysalis's vanguard en-route to the wedding, and made his mark on the citizenry of Canterlot before linking back up with them at the interrupted ceremony. Then, the divine intervention happened. He's still slightly bent out of shape over that ordeal.
Did this make him truly bad? Yes. He was proud of that, rather. You had to be bad to get things done. He gave everything he had to the Hive then, and still does now. What he did, does or didn't do was in the name of the Hive, no matter what it stood for, and he was damned if he wasn't going to serve what the Hive stood for.
Case in point, he serves his brother's weak and pathetic Hive because it is his Hive too, sadly.
Was he terrible? Yes. Yes, he was. He wasn't a savior, and he wasn't a problem solver for ponies of all things. That'd be the biggest blow to his pride if he was a willing one. He's not fixing the mistakes of these flesh bags. They can rot for all he can care. Decision made, Pharynx looked the stallion dead in his eyes and said his piece.
"They're definitely dead."
"Which.. ih.. isssss.. why we've called on your assistance, your lordship!" The officer moved the train wreck of a briefing forward. Surely doing the whole wet-your-legs thing, he flashed a shaky grin to Pharynx.
He didn't appreciate this. A dangerous mission? Duped by the Goddesses of Luck. He was nobody's errand colt. This was no truly dangerous mission, this was a retrieval op. He hated retrieval ops. There's a reason why he led the hunting parties during their recovery. A reason why he was the Prince and not some menial rank for his brother. A reason why he was in Chrysalis's most revered guard, of all things.
Yet. Yet..
The realization strikes.
This was the best action he was going to get. He'd have to settle. It's not like Thorax has any dire, supreme mission for him. The best his brother gives him is cuddle missions disguised as hostage situations, with paid actors. Grumbling, Pharynx curled his lip in displeasure. A shiny fang slick with saliva glistened in the dull light, right to the sweating officer. "So it seems," Pharynx said.
"We- Well, I suppose we.. we could work something out, milord? In-.. In FACT of all things, I do know they were there to investigate and neutralize an alleged rogue Windigo. Very dangerous, milord. Very! They could use your strength, your leadership to guide them if they're.. still alive." The stallion's upheaving speech fell flat at the end with his grimace.
Pharynx rolled his eyes, secretly pleased at the praise. "Alright, alright. I'll do this. You got me."
The stallion's eyes lit up like sparks of electricity. "You- You mean it, milord? Oh, this is just fantastic! I'll uhh.. I'll- I'll prepare your esc-"
"Won't be necessary. I got transportation."
The stallion paused, looking back at the Prince of Changelings. He rolled his jaw, blinking slowly. "...Right. I'll gather your supplies and equipment for this journey. If you'll be so kind, you can possibly find the Princess and Prince of the Crystal Empire, yes? I'm sure they'll brief you over there as well."
Now that is one thing that Pharynx wasn't going to do. Nonetheless, the unimpressed Prince himself gave a curt nod to the officer's rambling. The pony tapped the floor happily with a hoof and quickly bounded out of the room to retrieve whatever it is he was going to retrieve. Food or something.
Pharynx snorted, looking back to the board. "Operation Glass, huh? Wonder why they called it that."
Pharynx trotted over to the board, reading each little tidbit of information the officer provided. Going so far as to flip the board and read the other side. He never was much for studying, but if it was logistics it had to be done right. So, Pharynx continued to read and piece together a puzzle only he could put together in his mind.
Not enough supplies here, not enough there, no true cartography but just a rough sketch provided by scouts before they eventually caught hypothermia almost instantly... the usual. He had to credit them at least; they knew how to put together a bunch of pictures and words that mean nothing. At least this congregation of useless wording came down to a comprehensive list of each pony that had taken on the 'great' voyage.
Ah, that Tempest Shadow. The one he saw at the delegation a month or so ago, and at the whole coronation thing. He was tired of the vicious stink-eyes he was always treated with by ponies. Because he refused to change to what they want him to. He will never be those disgusting, neon colored "changelings" who look almost like ponies more than they do a traditional changeling.
Erasing that train of thought, Pharynx instead turned his direction to the photos of each participant. He felt a wicked grin of his coming on for the pure violence he can see just in her eyes from this photo of her face. Huh, thought the Fizzlepop Berrytwist name was just a joke from my operatives. Guess he should take those idiots' words with more consideration next time. Yet, a question remains since she was the supposed ringleader of this merry troupe of guards:
How did she not plan this thoroughly?
She was the Commander of the whole Storm King thing. It was a pleasure to see Canterlot's illustrious celebration be wrecked and stomped about by the whole fleet he saw during one of his travels to meet with a petty lord of some pony land. Had it not been for we do not mention the unrealistically amazing luck the escape of Twilight Sparkle, she would have successfully detained all Princesses and Equestria would have been hers.
That kind of spells bad luck for the Changelings now that Pharynx thought about it entirely. He was too busy sort of embellishing in the chaos of such events. No border security, no love shipments.. but combat. Maybe that wasn't too bad. Off track again. What was making him do that so often, now?
That chest tugging was back. That feeling has returned. Intuition, or that wretched feeling that twists his innards no matter where he flew? Pharynx overlooked the board again, and felt his tugging intensify. Intuition it is.
Pharynx already saw multiple flaws in this so-called plan he was debriefed on. Matter of fact, this all seemed hastily put together. Incredibly improvised work, almost. In a room that clearly hasn't seen a living soul in centuries, with a stallion who can't seem to give crucial information regarding what was supposedly a highly touted mission. Pharynx could smell a ploy like no other, and it has seemed to all click for this royal sociopath.
He harrumphed, shaking his head as he about-faced and walked towards the door. This was a joke of a mission. An assassination attempt, perhaps? A time for sharpening of blades and the siege of Canterlot but this time actually work? He was no tolerating changeling to Equestrian values, and now it seems like the Equestrian values has done a 180 just for him to be eliminated out of the picture.
No matter, all he has to do is back out of this and inform his brother of his suspicions. Of course they'll go unheard and Pharynx will have to resort to espionage, and all will be normalized again. Situation normal. But then, his chest seemed to have that.. feeling. That feeling feel. That feel that feels.. feeling. It exploded throughout his body, infecting his nerves and freezing them.
Floor slipped under from his hooves and he found himself scrambling to not eat cobwebs and whatever disgusting muck that was hastily swept into corners on the floor. The shoddy desk he reluctantly took a seat in a couple hours ago collapsed with his body smacking against it, crashing and sending dust everywhere.
His effort for balance was for nothing. His head smeared against the floor, putting a good spot of sticky muck on his forehead. Pharynx landed awkwardly on his side, laying there with a deep frown on his muzzle. Huh, so that's what it was like to be a klutz. Not like it mattered, but sometimes you get those thoughts.
Rubbing his head, Pharynx stood up with a grumble. Now that he was speaking of thoughts to himself, what was this incessant feeling in his chest? It had never done that before. He never felt such a strong kneejerk spasm like that. It was so intense it had literally made him sweep the floor with his skull.
Perhaps existing here was just torture enough for his very core. He had to leave this palace and just abide to their lies in order to avoid raising suspicion. Nod with whatever the fool says and leave this place to go forth to the Crystal Empire. Rendezvous with the Cloudsdale patrol he had sent a couple days ago, and be on his merry way afterwards.
Stepping out into the large corridor, Pharynx felt a bit more tense watching some maids spy him from their cleaning duties. They'd side-eye him, wave to him, and go back to cleaning. It was weird to him. No one ever simply waved to him and went back to whatever it was they were doing. He was the boogeybug. Foals looked underneath their beds for him at night.
It sort of hurt when he discovered this about his changed subjects, but the hurt was quickly replaced with conviction. No matter, they'd still be defended. Whether it be hating him or loving him, he didn't care. A job was a job.
Monologuing again, are we?
It's all I have. Always thinking of an escape, a defensive plan, a logistics output... I live for the Hive.
So much that you debate yourself on everything?
No one bothers to debate me smartly. It's a by-product of being unmatched.
Narcissistic, too.
Proudly.
Moving on, he traversed through the corridors. Turn here, walk there, enter this door and out of this garden section. Ponies passed by and didn't offer him a glance, rather parting out of their spacious way for him. That was an attitude Pharynx was familiar with, and one that didn't sting or confuse him anymore.
Tied with an uncomfortable looking mix of vines, leaves, and twine wrapped around his neck stood Trachea at the small landing pad. His talons scraped against the white marble, and his tail gave a few meticulously designed bushes to look like Blueblood a great whiplashing into crumpled brushes of leaves.
The unorthodox hitching method seemed to be uncomfortable for the grisly manticore, who occasionally fought at it to give him some leniency. A leniency his new owner didn't seem to care for. Ripping the improvised lasso off Trachea, Pharynx dropped it to the floor as he flapped his wings until they hummed. Once enough power was established, he lazily buzzed up to the beast's back, sitting down on it with a grunt.
"Milord! Milord! Miiilooord! Lord Pharynx! Lord Pharynx! Leaving so soon?"
Pharynx looked back to the archway that he came from, looking towards the stallion officer who had given him the briefing. Huh. Found him fast. Impressive.
Pharynx stared the stallion down, answering: "Yes."
Blinking, the officer coughed and cleared his throat. His speaking that came afterwards was a travesty. The officer bumbled with his words, stuttering and stumbling over a simple sentence before calming himself down. "We-Well, uhh.. I have your uhh.. necessities here, sir." He jangled the saddlebags on his withers for emphasis.
"Not required. I can handle myself."
"N-No! I.. Gifts from the Princesses!" The officer skittered up next to the mounted Trachea, keeping well away from the venomous growl his maw gave. "Please, they insist," he said.
"They can insist on someone else," Was all Pharynx said before his majestic, scarred beast took to the sky with a jump right over the startled officer. The shadow of the manticore passed over his entire body in a flash, sending him onto his back with a squeal like a foal's.
He spazzed out on the floor trying to get up, yelling. "MILORD! LORD PHARYNX! PLEASE COME BACK!" He got up, fumbling over the saddlebags that had spilled its contents on the floor. Letters, scrolls, and some vials that spilled out a pinkish liquid onto the marble, fuming with a purple smoke that dissipated into the air.
Once the officer had recovered all that he could, he looked back up to the sky to see no sign of the Prince nor his recently acquired mount.
"...Oh dear."
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Also, just realized this line in the description:
sounds like a line from Zecora. For obvious reasons.
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pics.me.me/despite-all-my-rage-i-am-still-taking-naps-in-43617870.png
Pharynx is really trapped in his mind, isn’t he? Too proud to say that they are unhappy with themselves and trying to deflect it on others.
I wonder how he will change once he properly meets Tempest.
I also must say you have a wonderful and engaging way of writing.
10615827
Strange things are a-happening.. It's a good thing I finally got my plans re-organized for this fic! I'm only TWO WEEKS late to replying to your comments, that's a new record of quick response!
I always felt my writing style was strange, and of course in the self-deprecating way. Never be satisfied with what I make. It's kind of surprising that someone would consider it engaging when I feel as if I jump bluntly from place to place with no smooth jump or landing, always seeming like a rocking boat more-so than a steady sail. Thank you for reading and being interested anyhow, it's always nice to see it!
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10641585
Even if you think it's blunt, I think it works with how Pharynx is acting and how you portray him. He seems to be someone whose idea of subtle is using a five pound hammer instead of a twenty pound hammer, while also being observant and intelligent enough to know the exact right spot to hit with those hammers for maximum effect. So "blunt" would really be appropriate for him.
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Soon™
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