Part One Hundred & Ten
“As Diarch of Equestria and Princess of the Crystal Empire, I sentence you to hang by the neck until dead.” Flurry Heart paused and lowered her wings. “I forget which one you are. Are you Flim or Flam?”
The bloodied stallion with a black eye did not respond. The blue dye in his fur continued to drip and pool around his hooves, mixing with the blood from the dozens of cuts and bruises littering his fur. One eye was swollen shut, but the other glared hatefully; the iris was more blood than green.
The owners of F&F Industries had tried to disappear into Las Pegasus’ undercity, but no amount of mane cuts and dye could compete with a population used to changelings. The twin brothers were beaten by their former factory workers and nearly lynched before being ‘rescued’ by a Reichsarmee squad investigating the riot. Many of their corporate staff already swung from the balconies of the casinos in the clouds.
“Hang him with his brother,” the alicorn said dismissively. She waved a wing behind her to the open balcony doors. It was almost nightfall, and the lights of Las Pegasus illuminated hundreds of soldiers and thousands of ponies. A crowd had gathered in the long walkways, waiting to see where their former bosses would hang.
The Tzinacatl had claimed The Full Moon as a base of operations; it was a gaudy, pyramid-themed casino with bat pony statues at the entrance. They were dressed far more provocatively than the statues in their cave city. Impressive how tactical loincloths seem worse than naked fur. Flurry Heart stood in one of the grand suites reserved for high-rollers or wealthy clients. Full moons covered the walls, and the carpet smelled like cigarette smoke.
The two tribals dragged the stallion to the open balcony. He said nothing, but it was possible he couldn’t: the bruising on his muzzle had swollen one side of his mouth. The Thestral on the left dipped her head with smiling fangs, flashing an Imperial Snowflake sloppily painted onto the top of a Queen’s Guard helmet.
The Queen’s Guard detachment had been hanged post-mortem from their base as well. While the Appleloosan Protectorate was nominally controlled from Appleloosa, Las Pegasus had been the true capital. Rockfeller and Governor Plexippus had operated from the port city, and it has direct shipping access to Olenia and therefore Vesalipolis.
Flurry walked up to the lone Thestral staring down out the window beside the balcony. Light Narrative, the Tlatoani of the Tzinacatl, had dressed in a simple vest with wide brimmed hat. He flicked his remaining golden eye to her before returning to the cheering crowd. Flurry stared across the crowd to the other casinos. Las Pegasus’ simple brick three-story town hall looked quaint in comparison to Gladmane’s Tall Towers resort or the Rockfeller-backed Lucky Pumpjack! casino. The flashing sign had an oil well spurting into the sky, and it looked suggestive.
“I hate this place,” Flurry said aloud.
Light Narrative chuckled. “I wrote an article about this casino. It’s the newest one.”
Flurry shifted her head to a casino with a glittering Chrysalis winking on the front. Heartbreaker had been vandalized beyond repair, and the lights flickered. The Princess could make out the original spinning sign for Buffalo’s Trail and a caricature of a proud chieftain just under Chrysalis’ grinning teeth. The Queen’s Guards dangled under the rotating sign.
“Well,” Light Narrative amended, “that one’s newer. This one was built just after Luna’s return to cater to the Thestral crowd.”
Flurry shifted her stare down to the statues. “Really?” One hoof rubbed against the swirling white fur of her scar. She had rolled-up the sleeve of her black jumpsuit, as she usually did around the Thestrals. The alicorn noticed most looked at the unity symbol at some point.
“Cater to the crowd that suddenly realized Thestrals existed,” Light explained. He rubbed a wing against his eyepatch. “This was the only casino that hired Thestrals in all of Las Pegasus.”
Flurry waited for the reveal. When Light Narrative shifted his wings and looked reluctant, she prompted him. “Exotic dancers?”
He bit a lip with a fang.
“Prostitutes?”
His eye went wide and he managed to choke out, “Technically exotic dancers.”
“So prostitutes but paid less,” Flurry sighed. Her eyes wandered over the crowd; griffons flapped over the cheering ponies filling the street. Her Nova Griffonians now wore a shade of gray similar to the Reichsarmee, but they carried themselves differently. Rowdier. “When will you head back?”
“Soon,” Light Narrative shrugged a wing. “The Conclave will meet to divide the warbands into the Imperial Army and the militias. Some will remain to run sweeps for the rest of spring.” He shuffled his hooves. “The Royal Advisor has sent changelings-”
“I’ll talk to Deimos,” Flurry interrupted.
The Thestral nodded and changed the subject. “The assignment of commanders will be divisive; I hope you don’t need us soon.”
“I would think all-Thestral regiments commanded by Thestrals would be easier.”
“Without one of the Three Tribes to gang up on we’ll fight about our own tribes,” Light Narrative deadpanned. “How do you intend to use us?”
“That’s up to Tempest Shadow,” Flurry deferred.
Light leaned his head to the side and regarded the cheering crowd. “Nighttime patrols, Dreamspell interrogations, assassinations, sabotage, and hit-and-run raids.” A wing twitched with each example. “Every stereotype of a marauding bat worthy of Chiropterra.”
Flurry Heart stepped away from the window. “We are what we are, Tlatoani. Would you rather that stereotype?” She jerked her head downwards to the statues at the main entrance.
“No,” Light Narrative whickered. “You know, the slot machine’s jackpot is triple mangoes.”
“Who owned this piece of shit?” Flurry groaned.
“One of the ponies hanging out there already.”
“Good.” Flurry Heart trotted across the open room to the door. Nightshade and Amoxtli dipped her heads and braced their submachine guns with a wing. They followed her out into a dimly lit hallway.
Las Pegasus had power from turbines in the bay; the lights were themed like crescent moons and gave the hotel a smoky, ‘seductive’ atmosphere even during the day. We are tearing all these casinos down. Flurry hummed and reconsidered. No, housing. If anypony can stomach it.
Smolder waited near the elevator. The dragoness looked bemused by the wallpaper and picked at it with a claw. She turned her head with a swing of her tail in greeting. “Princess.”
“How’s the docks?” Flurry questioned. She halted and looked up at the slim orange dragon. Smolder’s steel armor was scuffed, but the damage was old. The dragons had not fought since the highway.
“Not an engineer,” Smolder rumbled. “They look damaged. Dragon Lord Ember’s headed up to Canterlot. I’m following her in a day. If you don’t tell us what you want done with the submarines, the old farts are going to use them as baseball bats out in the bay.”
“Have them dumped in the plains to the south. We’ll scrap them for metal.”
Smolder opened her mouth.
“No baseball bats.”
Smolder closed her mouth, but grinned. “Shame you missed the look on those blue sailor bugs when we just hauled their tiny metal tubes out of the docks. They were so sure they clogged the dockyards.”
Flurry rolled her eyes. The fighting in the city before the surrender had been based around the Hegemony’s Kriegsmarine detachment in the undercity. Plexippus managed to kill the Queen’s Guards covertly, but Admiral Mimic’s death prompted her sailors to accelerate their plans to blow the port. It turned into a desperate, running gun battle along the docks. Only a hundred or so of the marines survived to be captured as the city turned over.
Flurry Heart had heard from Thorax the Hegemony’s internal command was full of petty rivalries. Synovial had once been Hive Marshal before Trimmel, and was replaced after her parents’ wedding. Lysander and Mimic argued whether changelings should design heavily-armored beetle battleships or deceptive submarines. The air force was divided between bomber production and fighters. Vaspier and VOPS had no official rival, but resources were always pulled from the other departments.
Chrysalis has to do it on purpose. The changelings had never been united before under one Queen of the Changelings. The Changeling Hegemony’s forces would have had too many divided loyalties to the other Queens during the war if things turned against her. I suppose she’s lucky they never did.
“Who’s in command of the dragons staying behind?” Flurry asked.
Smolder blinked. She folded her arms. “Dragon Lord Ember.”
“If she’s in Canterlot, who’s in charge down here?” Flurry rephrased. Someone small enough to operate a damn radio, please. Smolder’s sudden look of uncertainty caused the alicorn to bare her teeth. “Find someone before you leave. We need to keep in touch.”
She stepped to the side and winged her way past the taller dragoness. Her saddlebags bumped against the dragoness’ swishing tail. The two bat ponies followed their Princess to the elevator. Flurry ignored the soldier stomping his hoof into the stained rug, then spared the briefest nod of acknowledgement to the grinning bat pony.
Generic music somepony in Canterlot probably thought was jungle-themed played in the elevator. “Mom always said if I didn’t get a degree I’d end up shaking my tail for a bunch of repressed hornheads,” Nightshade commented behind Flurry.
“My mother said the same,” Amoxtli picked up. “Actually, she said she’d skin my wings if I ended up here.”
Flurry Heart rode the elevator down to the casino floor. She walked out into a chaotic display of flashing lights and broken machinery. Las Pegasus remained a tourist destination for the Hegemony. The casinos transitioned to a changeling clientele easily enough; a torn banner proclaimed the jackpot was a lifetime’s supply of condensed love. The bat pony on the banner’s fangs were too long and changeling-like.
All of the Appleloosan Protectorate’s Love Tax had been collected in Las Pegasus. Flurry had grimly smiled when the warehouses in the undercity were empty. The love rations had been on the ships attempting to leave. Did the Changelings even realize they were setting themselves up to starve here? Or did they plan to feed on the workers?
She’d have to ask Governor Plexippus. The Reichsarmee had commandeered Chrysalis’ casino, holding the Appleloosan Protecotrate’s government prisoner there. The old city hall was too battered and exposed to the near-riotous herds of partying ponies.
The newly arrived Nova Griffonians mixed with groups of Thestrals amongst the tipped-over slot machines and tables. Like the others, The Full Moon was being cleared out for space, and a few earth ponies mixed into the groups. Flurry spotted Duskcrest at a long roulette table crowded with ponies and griffons.
The ponies had been bound and gagged, sat atop the stools lining the table with Nova Griffonians standing watch. The entire floor was dripping with riotous energy; one Thestral took a crowbar to a slot machine displaying triple mangoes that refused to pay out. All the tokens were worthless, but it seemed that Las Pegasus still had one last party in it before the war resumed.
Duskcrest spun the roulette wheel and casually tossed the ball into play. He leaned onto the board and spun one of his silver-plated revolvers around a claw. “Red or black, everyone?”
The griffons around the table offered various answers, and the ponies protested with muffled whinnies. Duskcrest straightened slightly at the alicorn’s approach; everyone cleared the floor with hasty nods or bows as she crossed the room. The Princess demanded space with her wingspan, but most gave her double that and avoided eye contact.
The griffon’s dark golden eyes flashed under a dipped cowboy hat. “Howdy, Princess.”
“General Duskcrest,” Flurry acknowledged. She swept her gaze over the griffons crowding the bound ponies before moving her stare downwards. The ponies all wore rumpled suits or sequin dresses under the ropes. “Which group is this?”
“F&F,” Duskcrest answered. “Just having a little fun before bringing them up. Are we offering pardons?”
Flurry bit her lip. Rockfeller’s company was named General Petroleum prewar. It had folded into Chrysalis’ crown corporation, but the top staff largely remained the same. They had been captured with their boss in his own casino and held with the Reichsarmee’s headquarters. But Rockfeller was hers.
Flurry Heart did not want to spare them; they had driven their workers into the ground with their boss. However, they knew the pipelines and refineries the Reich desperately needed operational to reduce the strain from Griffonia. So far, her one visit to their makeshift cells over the past week had resulted in screaming and begging from ponies terrified of the Princess of Rope.
That might be enough. It made her stomach twist, but she couldn’t kill them all, no matter how her ponies brayed for it across the south. Equestria suffered a severe brain drain over the course of the Hegemony’s rule. Most universities were shuttered. Celestia’s school was burnt down, and whatever still functioned did so at the Changeling’s exact instruction. Lies about how we started the war and racial phrenology of the ‘alicorn-like changeling physique.’
“I’m not offering pardons for F&F,” Flurry said aloud. She flicked her eyes back to Duskcrest. “Stop fucking around with them, General.”
“Ah,” the griffon accepted, “apologies, Princess. It’s a casino. Of course Nova Griffonians want to have some fun.” He slapped his claw down on the spinning wheel and deftly caught the ball mid-air. His other claw twirled the pistol.
The surrounding Nova Griffonians placed their claws on their captives. One mare tried to chew through the rag with mascara running down her eyes. Flurry stared at her coldly, then regarded the inhibitor ring on her horn. The factories of the undercity were surrounded with slums. For all of Canterlot’s talk of being ruled from above, Las Pegasus was a stark example of inequality. The weather patrol charged with keeping the clouds clear and fluffy for the tourists lived underneath them with the factory workers.
“Get it done today,” Flurry ordered. She stepped away from the table. “I’m looking for Deimos.”
“They finished up with Rockfeller.” Duskcrest pointed a wing to the back of the casino, near the bank teller’s cage. The casino vaults had all been emptied before the siege and loaded onto the initial ships trying to escape. Coins littered with Chrysalis’ muzzle probably ran along the ocean floor from Las Pegasus to Hjortland. The vaults were used to secure the highest-profile collaborators before their hanging.
Flurry Heart did not lie to herself and say the hangings were impartial, but they were more organized. She had collected a list of the accused and the Thestrals patrolled the undercity. Lynchings were met with violence. The Reichsarmee swept the city and kept her forces clear of the changelings, and the pony civilians trapped in the besieged city were mostly distracted with the show above. Food had been shipped in from Appleloosa along the railways.
The alicorn had once read that the old Karthinian Empire was held together by bread and circuses before it collapsed to the Wingbardian barbarians. My bread is apples and my circus is hangings. The south needed to be reorganized like the Imperial Coast or the East Coast. She filed away another meeting in her head.
“We’ll deal with Rockfeller next.”
Duskcrest clacked his beak and held up a claw. “Hang on, I got a request before you meet with him.” He wore the Imperial Snowflake on his gray uniform now, but the silver chain around his neck looked looted. A breast pocket jingled with a few coins.
Flurry flicked her ears.
“Two of my captains want to talk. Sent them to wait around.” Duskcrest holstered his revolver. “Earth pony and surly old bounty hunter. They’ve been at a few meetings. You haven’t met them.”
“About Rockfeller?” Flurry guessed.
Duskcrest leaned over and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Earth pony’s related. Ran away from home or something. She’s been living in the frontier since before the Great War.”
Flurry closed her eyes. Familial relations don’t count. She did not relish that discussion. “Who’s the griffon?”
“An asshole,” Duskcrest laughed. He pulled back. “We shot each other once, back when I had a bounty.” His golden eyes quirked. “Actually, I might still have one.”
“Everything the Nova Griffonian government established ceased to exist with their Capitol Building,” Flurry deadpanned.
Duskcrest’s feathers flexed and he rolled his eyes to the terrified ponies. “Alright, you heard your Princess. Fun’s over. Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.” He cocked his head and his griffons hauled the ponies off their stools. A few sobbed and neighed; one stallion soiled his tuxedo.
Flurry Heart extended her wings to clear more room, letting Nightshade lead the way to the vault. She waved her wings for the Thestrals to rise at the door to the teller boxes, then stepped through to the back around empty safes. Her hooves crunched on scattered plastic chips.
Flurry Heart let her wing droop and snagged a chip with a feather. She brought it up to her muzzle for examination. There was a full moon on one side, and a bat pony with a headdress made of fruit on the other. “Did you know about this casino?” she asked behind her.
Amoxtli nodded. Her wing pointed through the bars in a teller’s booth to cages that still hung from the rafters on the casino floor. They were silver-plated and the bars were wavy to imply moonlight, and a horizontal pole in the interior was capped with a full moon.
Exotic ‘dancers.’ Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “This was before the war?”
“Yes.” Amoxtli rolled her slit eyes. “Some ponies wondered why we preferred our caves.”
They descended into the vault. Flurry Heart found Deimos and two other changelings making notes at an office table. They startled at Nightshade and quickly held up their hooves before Flurry rounded the corner. “Oh! Princess!”
“Rise,” Flurry preempted them. Thorax’s changelings were exceptionally nervous with twitching wings. They avoided making eye contact with Nightshade or Amoxtli. Flurry had suspicions her other soldiers were increasingly hostile. The Reichsarmee was doubtlessly worse. Less than a hundred of her changelings were in the south right now, and nearly all of them were in the city overseeing the interrogations of the surrendered staff.
The others followed the Tzinacatl scouts tracking deserters. The advance had been swift and relentless, and rough estimates placed several thousand Changelings missing in the vast expanses of unsettled land. There had already been one attack on one of the oil derrick outposts from a band of raiders. The two dozen changelings tried to abduct three of the pipeline’s repairponies before they were chased down.
They couldn’t hide out for long, not without food or a source of love. It’s why the Nova Griffonians had been chosen for garrison duties; they could fly fast and strike hard. The south was flatter than the mountains of the frontier, but the alicorn’s frontier griffs could live off the land. Most were used to being bandits.
“Deimos,” Flurry greeted the purple-uniformed, red-eyed changeling. All of Thorax’s changelings wore the full dress uniform of the Imperial Army at all times. The purple could be an eyesore in the daylight, but it was better than being shot on reflex. “How are you?”
It was a useless question; the stallion looked miserable and the chitin sagged around his eyes. “Good, Princess,” he clearly lied. “We extracted a strong amount of internal information about the Hegemony’s economic structure-”
He stopped at Flurry’s flat stare. “We’re done with the interrogations,” he said, skipping to the end.
“Does Thorax want to pick up stragglers?” Flurry asked in response.
Deimos bit his lip. “It’s not a high priority, but starvation will hit the Heer’s rank-and-file soon if they ran at the first attacks.” His horn glowed and he hefted a wooden crate full of Condensed Love Rations onto the desk. “A little kindness might go a long way if some ‘ling starts feeling their mind slipping…”
Flurry Heart could feel Nightshade and Amoxtli’s stares on the back of her neck. Her fur bristled. “Radio it out openly. Surrenders will be accepted. Raids will be met with fire and blood.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Deimos sighed.
Flurry twisted her head and her crystal band flashed in the lamplight deeper into the vault. “Where’s Rockfeller?”
“Bat ponies are guarding his cell,” the changeling pointed a gossamer wing to one of the branching hallways. “You can’t miss him.”
“Thank you.” Flurry moved.
“Princess?”
She stopped and turned her head back.
Deimos shuffled a few papers aside. “Can…can we get it in writing? About the broadcast? It, uh, it makes things a little easier if…” he didn’t finish the thought.
The alicorn’s horn glowed and she levitated a ballpoint pen up. Flurry nodded slowly and trotted back to the table. She wrote out a brief synopsis of the order in her looping scrawl on a blank page, then signed her name at the bottom of the page. She tilted her head.
Flurry added, DO NOT MAKE ME COME DOWN HERE AND CHECK ON THIS underneath her signature, then drew a horrible self-portrait of her frowning. “Yeah, that looks official, doesn’t it?” she nickered. From the desk of the Princess of Ponies herself.
Deimos did not answer.
At least we’re not at the forced laughter stage like Grover. Flurry took that as a victory. She left the paper with the changelings and descended further into the vault. Hooves clacked on tile. The two bat ponies and one alicorn rounded a corner to find an earth pony and griffon waiting before a line of Tzinacatl warriors standing guard at the caged alcoves for the deposit boxes.
No point guessing which one’s related. The earth pony was a brown mare with amber eyes and a black mane tied back into a rough bun. A gray cap was settled over her eyes, not quite hiding the bags and lean muzzle. A stitched yellow rose was on her pants over her flank, probably her cutie mark. She was unarmed; her eyes were facing forward but far away as she was engrossed in thought.
The brown griffon looked like an asshole. Or rather, he had that look of ‘I’m charming but kill people for money’ that Flurry Heart grew used to seeing in the Nova Griffonian Frontier. A wide scar creased his beak and ran up one eye, maybe from a knife or a talon. He wore the Imperial Snowflake same as the mare, but his gray uniform was complemented with a bandolier and holstered revolver. A brown, wide-brimmed hat completed the ensemble. He was leaning against the wall, trading a waggling eyebrow with one of the Tzinacatl that looked more flustered than she cared to admit.
“Where’s Rockfeller?” Flurry asked without preamble. She trotted forward and inserted herself between the guards and the duo. The griffon and pony straightened, but did not bow.
“Within, Princess,” one of the tribals hissed. Her ears flicked and nose scrunched, baring her fangs. “He soiled himself during the changeling’s questioning. The smell was unbearable for us.”
“My apologies,” Flurry remarked with poorly suppressed amusement. “Leave us.”
The Tzinacatl snapped a hoof to their chests and bowed with flicking ears. Flurry shuffled her forelegs and nodded; the white fur over the scar seemed brighter in the lantern lights of the dimly lit vault. The bat ponies retreated, leaving the Princess, her two guards, and the mismatched pony and griffon alone.
“Princess,” the earth pony said. She bowed her head.
“I take it you are in my army and did not steal those uniforms,” Flurry whickered. “General Duskcrest told me I had two waiting. He did not tell me who you are.”
The griffon laughed with a warm, rich drawl. “If I’d been asked years ago ‘bout Virgil Duskcrest, I’d never thought he’d turn tail for a filly.”
“He said you shot him,” Flurry deadpanned.
“Tends to happen when ya shoot at me,” the griffon laughed. He removed his hat with a claw and bowed with a vaguely Aquileian flourish. “Jean De Basse, bounty hunter and lieutenant.” His unoccupied claw scuffed at his jacket’s collar. “Still waitin’ on my bars, Princess.”
Flurry Heart tried to guess the accent. “You’re not with my other Aquileians.”
“Born in Nova Griffonia,” Jean confirmed. “I heard ya had a mash of an accent. Sounds different up close.”
“Have we met before?”
“Before Canterlot.” De Basse waved a claw after replacing his hat. “Virgil and I have an agreement not to get too close. Had to share a crater one night fighting off Redtail’s communists after shooting each other half to Maar’s Hell.”
“You told me it was cannibals,” the earth pony whickered.
“More excitin’ that way,” De Basse shrugged. “S’all good now, wind over wings.”
Flurry turned her head to the mare. Her icy eyes studied the blank jacket collar. “I was told you are related to Rockfeller. I wasn’t aware of any familial relations.”
The earth pony bit her lip and her amber eyes sank to the floor. “My name is Paddy.” She took a deep breath. “Rose Rockfeller.”
Flurry flexed her wings. “Niece?”
Paddy blinked slowly. “Daughter,” she whispered. “Your…uncle…spoke to me once.”
Thorax. Flurry inhaled and pushed the breath out with a foreleg. “I am sorry, but the testimony of familial relations-”
“I’m not here for that,” Paddy interrupted. She flinched at the hisses of Nightshade and Amoxtli. Flurry waved her wings and the Thestrals backed up; she rolled her head for Paddy to continue. “I just…I’d like to say goodbye.”
“Were you part of the ELF?”
Paddy shook her head. “I ran away from the south a long time ago.” Her accent still had a twinge of Appleloosa, but it was overwhelmingly Nova Griffonian. “Father owned everything, always did. I was supposed to be his ‘Yellow Rose’ while he worked ponies into the ground.” She cast a baleful stare back to her stitched cutie mark. “I hated it so I ran.”
“Wait…” Flurry paused. “You’re not talking about the war.”
“The south might’ve been under Celestia’s sun, but it was always independent,” Paddy nickered. “Money talked. Look at this damn place. Southern ponies went on and on about their freedom and land, but it was oil that built the railroads and towns after the gold rush.”
“Called ‘black gold’ for a reason, mon chere,” De Basse drawled. “Hired bounty hunters for his daughter. Found her first.”
“Helped me go into hiding,” Paddy added.
Flurry blinked several times. “I’m…sorry.”
“It’s alright, Princess,” Paddy slowly smiled. Her breath shuddered. “I know…I know he’s done bad things. He was a bad pony before all this. I just…need to say goodbye. Please.”
The alicorn nodded in acceptance. “I understand.” She waved her wings forward and trotted into the hallway, following the lights to the last ‘cell’ still occupied. The four followed her.
Rockfeller was a large blue-gray earth pony with a brown mane. Flurry had seen pictures in the Lucky Pumpjack! casino. He looked stately in them, staring at a horizon with firm brown eyes above a well-maintained mustache. He was usually in a suit standing before one of his oil derricks in the photographs.
He was still in a suit, but it was torn and rumpled. Several empty buckets sat outside the cell, explaining the puddle on the floor around the stallion. Blood was all over his collared shirt, still dripping wet. The smell lingered in the stale air. The earth pony struggled to his hooves, moving sluggishly with unfocused eyes.
They drained him. Flurry expected that. It was the best way to get honest, unfiltered answers. She took some satisfaction out of the probable reality it was the first time the stallion had ever felt a changeling feed on his emotions. She kept her muzzle firm.
Snot dripped from the stallion’s mustache. His mane had streaks of gray in it. The earth pony staggered to the bars of the alcove and leaned against the locked door, using it to hold himself up.
“Princess,” Rockfeller’s eyes struggled to focus, but he locked onto the gently glowing golden horn. “This…this is all a mistake…”
Flurry said nothing. Amoxtli and Nightshade stood to the side with slung submachine guns.
“Please, Princess,” Rockfeller coughed. “It was just…just good business. I told you it was.”
What? Flurry frowned and extended her wings.
Rockfeller’s eyes tracked them and wobbled. “Princess Celestia, please…”
Flurry Heart registered the dim lighting, her height over all the others, and the golden glow around her horn. She stepped back with a snarl. “I am not Celestia.” She folded her wings tight and stepped to the side with her Thestrals.
Paddy Rockfeller moved slowly and stiffly, eyes ahead but as distant as her father’s. Jean De Basse walked by her side with a wing over her back. The mare’s chest heaved with every step.
Rockfeller’s eyes cleared slightly as his daughter walked into the alicorn’s horn light. He leaned his muzzle against the bars and exhaled, trying to smile with limp muscles. “Rose?” he rasped out.
Paddy’s first word was a whimper and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Rockfeller tugged his mouth into a smile even with glassy eyes. “My little Rose…”
“Goodbye, father,” Paddy choked out. Jean tightened his wing over the mare’s back.
And before Flurry Heart could stop him, the griffon drew his revolver and fired point blank into Rockfeller’s muzzle. The gunshot echoed in the alcove; the ponies flinched, Nightshade and Amoxtli most of all. They flexed their wings and snapped the submachine guns to their forelegs.
The alicorn’s horn flared and every gun slammed into the ceiling, including the other revolver that was holstered at De Basse’s side. The griffon’s wing was nearly knocked off by the force of Flurry’s magic tearing the weapon from its spot. He squawked but held up his claws.
Rockfeller sank against the bars. It was a perfect headshot between the eyes. He lolled to the side and stilled, blood mixing into the dripping water. Paddy’s hooves trembled and she closed her eyes.
“It’s my fault,” Paddy nickered through her teeth. “Jean was following my-”
“She’s lyin’ through her muzzle,” De Basse retorted. His wings twitched. “I forced her ta go along with it.”
“No!” Paddy stomped her hoof. “It was my idea.” Amoxtli snarled, eyes flicking to the submachine gun on the ceiling.
“Quiet,” Flurry snapped. Her ears rang from the gunshot. She spared one long look at the dead body. “Why?”
De Basse opened his beak. “Part of an agreement-”
Flurry closed his beak with her magic. Her glare made him stop struggling. “Paddy. Why?”
Paddy swallowed, eyes still closed. “H-had a deal to k-kill him before the war. C-couldn’t see him swing from n-no gallows. S-sorry, Princess.”
“What…” Flurry frowned. “Before the war? What did he do before this?”
Paddy gave the Princess an incredulous look. “He owned the south. Forced ponies to sell their land with hired thugs, bought almost every election, pushed the petitions for the Buffalo to lose their sacred grounds…”
Flurry Heart worked her jaw, searching for a reply. “Celestia wouldn’t have allowed that.”
“When was the last time Celestia was down here?” Paddy laughed. It didn’t fully muffle a sob. “Father always had his say.”
Flurry released Jean’s beak and let the guns drift back to the floor. She eyed the two revolvers. “These look like Duskcrest’s,” she commented.
“Mine are better,” Jean retorted. He made a show of holstering them slowly. “Princess, this was my fault-”
“No!” Paddy interrupted.
“I am not punishing you,” Flurry sighed. “I…I get it. I’m sorry.”
“If ponies need to see a Rockfeller hang, I’m right here,” Paddy sniffled.
“No.” Flurry made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “You can have the body. If you want. We don’t have to make a show of it.”
“You don’t know.” Paddy’s laugh had a sob laced into it. “You’re looking at the owner of General Petroleum now. Rockfeller Oil is mine.”
She turned to face the Princess. “He never wrote me out of the will. I’m his only foal. It’s mine now. That’s why he cut a deal with Chrysalis. So it could stay in the family.”
Flurry shuffled her hooves back to avoid the expanding puddle of water and blood. “Is that why he sent bounty hunters after you?”
“He did that because I was his Little Rose,” Paddy snorted. “You can have it, Princess. The company’s yours.”
I have less idea what to do with it than you. Flurry Heart backed up into the hallway and away from the body. The dim light did not hide the tears dripping from Paddy Rockfeller’s lean muzzle. Jean wrapped his wing around her with a wince and guided her after the alicorn.
Flurry stopped halfway down. “I’m pardoning most of his staff.”
Paddy’s eyes widened. “No! You can’t! Not those snakes! They’re all as bad as him!”
“We need the company,” Flurry explained. Her voice lacked confidence. “I need the pumps and refineries for the Reichsarmee. The workers can’t run it all on their own.”
“Just give it to the Griffonians, then!” Paddy insisted.
“It’s one of the last things we have left,” Flurry sighed. “I can’t sign it over to the Griffonian Reich. We need it. We’ll be in enough debt.”
“This all started ‘cause of debt,” Jean answered lowly. “I had debt and took it ta hunt her. She made a deal to wipe it away if I killed him, not that it matters now. Ya mean to tell me after all these years, it’s endin’ with debt?”
Flurry smirked tiredly. “My country is a shithole that makes the Frontier look good. I’m paying it off with everything I have.” Including my own ass. She left that out.
Jean did not argue with her assessment. He rubbed a claw over the scar running down his beak. “That’s a pickle.”
Flurry looked to Paddy Rockfeller. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “If Rockfeller wanted you to run his company, can you do it? Can you get the pipelines running?”
Paddy’s teary eyes widened. “No. No, Princess, don’t ask me to-”
“I am,” Flurry exhaled. “I can’t run your company. I need a governor over this area, and I need the oil flowing to the Reichsarmee. If you can do it-”
“I did not kill my father just to be told I need to become him,” Paddy snorted. She did not flinch from the dual hisses of Nightshade and Amoxtli. The earth pony glared upwards through her tears.
“Easy,” Jean tried to push her back with a claw.
“Do you have griffons with you?” Flurry asked him.
“Got my own,” he acknowledged warily.
Flurry turned back to Paddy, meeting her furious stare with cool ice. “I have to put somepony in charge of this. They can work for reduced sentences postwar, or something else, but I need this oil. You have guards to help, and you were local once. You know the south better than I do.”
“Gonna have a hard time filtering out all the Buffalo blood,” Paddy spat.
“I know.” Flurry’s wings sagged. “I’m not asking you to be your father. Be better than him.” She looked back to her two Thestrals, then listened to the warbled ‘tribal’ music still faintly playing in the casino’s speakers. “Seems like every story I was told about Equestria wasn’t true.”
Paddy’s glare faded and she pursed her lips. “Wasn’t true for everypony,” the mare corrected. She blinked again and tears leaked down her muzzle. “Let me think about it, Princess. I…I can’t…”
“I never got to say goodbye to my father,” Flurry acknowledged. “I understand.” She turned to Nightshade. “Paddy Rockfeller can talk with me before we leave.” The bat pony nodded.
Jean and Paddy did not follow them all the way back to the casino floor. The griffon, despite his surly beak, gently led her to an unused corner and sat the earth pony beside some boxes once her hooves started to stumble. Flurry’s ears pinned at the muffled sobbing. Paddy had to have fought in Nova Griffonia, but the emotions from finally facing her father after a decade had left her as emotionally drained as Rockfeller himself.
Flurry Heart took the elevator all the way to the roof and teleported across the street to Chrysalis’ casino. Amoxtli suppressed a retch from the move. The Reichsarmee soldiers guarding the rooftop startled at the flash, but left the alicorn alone. No griffon dared point a gun in her general direction, and the two guarding the stairwell practically fled their posts when she approached.
The Reichsarmee command staff for Army Group South took control of the top floor. The hallways were brightly lit to contrast with the black wallpaper. Green hearts littered the otherwise monotone decorations. The floor rugs were sticky, and Flurry regretted not wearing her full uniform with boots.
Nightshade twisted her ears at the hum of the buzzing wall lamps. “Did they mean to put insect lamps? What did they name this place?”
“Heartbreaker’s,” Amoxtli answered. “It was on the sign before some unicorns blasted it. We used to hear stories that ponies were auctioned off on the lower floors as part of bets, but I don’t know if that was true.”
“It was,” Flurry answered. She led the way to the high-roller suites. The griffons guarding the palatial rooms did not run. They were busier processing dozens of changelings in crisp black uniforms and noting details. Most of the couches and low seating had been replaced with desks dragged up the stairs, and the few unicorns in the hallways bore orange armbands marking them as the Kaiser’s Aquileians.
Two unicorns scanned the alicorn at the double doors to a wide room. The chatter inside ceased. Flurry felt the magic blow through her feathers. She cast the spell back idly and felt it sweep through the floor.
A few dozen crackles reverberated through the room ahead. Flurry grinned, flat white teeth flashing as she entered. The Appleloosan Protectorate’s high command avoided staring at the alicorn. In fact, they attempted to stare anywhere else. Most chose the spinning ceiling fans. The Reichsarmee officers interviewing and guarding them kept their eyes on the changelings.
Flurry’s long legs slowed. She languidly walked through the room, eyeing the changelings from the side of her muzzle. She kept her head high and horn straight, looking down at them. She had raised her wings just after entering, and the wingspan passed over a few of their horns as they sat at the desks.
All the changelings wore inhibitor rings at the top of their horns, but it did not stop their emotion sense from working. Flurry was certain her distaste rolled off her in waves. She did not spy any changelings in blue uniforms of the Kreigsmarine, nor any Queen’s Guards. Good.
Flurry walked up a small staircase to a more private area of the suites. Dusty Mark leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking over the griffons and changelings. “Quite the show, Princess. Some probably pissed themselves.”
“How’s the situation below?” Flurry asked. “Factories functional?”
“We disarmed all the bombs,” the gray unicorn assured her. “Factories are operational, and the dragons are clearing out the port.” She jerked her horn to the side. “We’ve radioed Canterlot and gotten confirmation on identities.”
Dusty Mark led Flurry to a small group of ponies waiting on the balcony. “Former staff of the Appleloosan Protectorate. They passed information to the ELF about deployments, but most of the southern cells were wiped out between Plexippus and Rockfeller.”
Flurry quirked her muzzle. “Hangings?”
“Pine Chest is already swinging,” Dusty nickered. “Wiped out Starry Plough’s forces a year ago in the desert. You’ve already been briefed on all the ones worth the rope.”
“Princess,” a tan earth pony approached and knelt. She was wearing worker’s overalls from the undercity, and her barrel was thin. “My name is Sugarquill. I was an assistant for Mayor Rokenhar during the war.”
“She was the main contact with the ELF,” Dusty supplied.
Flurry nodded. “Rise.”
Sugarquill did so stiffly. “Governor Plexippus made use of much of Las Pegasus’ bureaucracy before the ELF uprising. Afterwards, the all-changeling administration sent us to the factories.”
“Did they suspect you sent the ELF information?”
“I would not be alive if they did,” Sugarquill answered dryly. She tossed her head to the earth ponies behind her. “These ponies are my…staff, I suppose. We were prepared to organize a general strike if an assault took place.”
Dusty snorted. “That’s a kind way of saying they turned welding saws into combat saws. We’ve seen the stockpiles in the factories. If this turned into an assault, changelings were going to get carved into pieces in the streets.”
“They had guns,” Flurry remarked.
Sugarquill shrugged. “Most of their ammo was stored here, not below. They would have run out of bullets before we ran out of bodies.”
Grim. Was this going through the minds of everypony in Canterlot? Flurry grimaced and shook her head. “I’m glad it did not come to that.”
Sugarquill’s eyes flicked to the door. The mare wore safety glasses taped to her muzzle for poor eyesight. “Do you intend to let the governor live?”
“Yes.”
The mare hummed. “Unfortunate. He was the sole governor of the Appleloosan Protectorate. These changelings wiped out the Buffalo in a systemic campaign.”
“I am aware,” Flurry said evenly. “They surrendered.”
“You think the Buffalo did not try to?” Sugarquill bowed again. “I beg your pardon, Princess. I forgot my place.”
“You did,” Flurry said the thought aloud. “Before I leave for Canterlot, I will appoint a governor for the south. You seem to have the experience and credentials. Perhaps not the attitude.”
Sugarquill’s ears pinned and she pressed her muzzle to the black carpet. “I apologize, Princess.”
“Accepted. Rise.” Flurry waved her wing. She left the ponies with Dusty Mark and entered the last room of the suite. It was once a large bedroom, but the bed had been replaced with office desks. The curtains were pulled away from a wide window, and the spinning sign of Chrysalis’ smirking muzzle was prominent. As were the Queen's Guard hanging below.
There was one large oak desk at the end of a row of smaller desks and piled paperwork. Griffons still sorted through all of it. They stopped as Flurry Heart and her two bat ponies entered. Discussion faded into mumbling.
General Mudbeak and an adjutant sat across the wide desk from Plexippus. Flurry Heart did not recognize the changeling mare and two foals standing behind the governor. The mare was wearing a bright blonde wig and green sequin dress that clashed terribly.
Flurry assumed the foals were Plexippus’ daughters. It was challenging to tell beyond their little poufy green dresses. They were very plump and had gained double-chins. I didn’t even know that was possible with chitin.
“Princess,” Mudbeak greeted with a dipped head. “We’ve finished the finalized surrender terms, but…there’s some hesitation on your stipulations.”
“We cannot go on the radio,” the changeling mare insisted. She rolled her vowels in Equestrian like Rarity. Clearly a manufactured accent.
“We can,” Plexippus overruled his wife. “This is not a concern.”
“It is absolutely a concern, Plexi!” the mare sniffed. “Those goons will run down my sister and-”
“They are not here!” the stallion hissed in Herzlander. His expression collapsed as his two daughters backed up against their mother’s forelegs. “We’re fine,” he said down to them in a softer voice.
The two foals’ eyes went to the standing alicorn. The blue-green eyes were very wide. Flurry Heart did not smile at them. Her mind was imagining how much love it took to make them that fat, and how skinny the ponies down below were.
“I suppose that’s sorted, then,” Mudbeak declared after a pause. He waved a claw to the paperwork on the desk. Plexippus signed with green magic. Flurry watched his uninhibited horn dim after he passed the papers back.
“I would like a word alone with the former governor,” the alicorn announced.
The griffons in the room stilled. Mubeak stood from his seat and turned around. Sweat stained his wingpits. “The Kaiser has taken these changelings under his wing,” he reminded her shakily.
“I understand,” Flurry demurred. “I would like to discuss the Appleloosan Protectorate.”
The mare sniffed. “Plexi doesn’t have anything-”
“Of course,” Plexippus cut her off. “Go along. Take the foals.”
“No!” his wife answered. Her hoof stomp shook the wig atop her head, and she had to nudge it back into place with a buzzing wing. “We have nothing to say to that monster!”
Flurry’s horn sparked. She ripped a chunk of the wallpaper free, exposing the previous grinning Buffalo chieftain. It was horribly garish wallpaper for the high-roller suites. Flurry almost understood why it was replaced by the Changelings.
“Go along,” Plexippus voice turned into a hiss. “Now.”
His wife’s muzzle twitched and she scooped up her grubs in her green magic, balancing them on her back. “Don’t play with the dress, darlings.” Her foals instead batted at her mane as she trotted out with her horn held high. At the door, one knocked off the wig. She sputtered and snatched it in her magic, pressing her head fin flat.
The griffons followed her out quickly, leaving the paperwork behind. Flurry walked around the desks at a sedate pace, scanning over the documents. To her surprise, it was all submarine reports. She raised a bow and looked over the large table again.
The nameplate and several frames were facedown on the wood. The alicorn’s horn glowed and she tugged one upright. Plexippus turned to stare out the window.
Flurry Heart recognized Admiral Mimic from the uniform. It was an old photograph, still in black and white from before the war. She was close to a slightly taller changeling stallion.
A small foal was balanced atop her head, wearing the Admiral’s blue cap. It was far too big for the changeling grub, but they beamed with tiny fangs and happy eyes. Mimic smiled underneath her foal, and her mate smiled at the camera beside her. He was in a suit with a tie.
Flurry Heart set the photograph down. “Was this Mimic’s office?”
“Yes,” Mudbeak answered. “Lysander sent her here during our invasion to coordinate the raids on our convoys. Their rivalry was exacerbated after Lysander lost most of their surface fleet in the Battle of Haukland. Some of the documents we’ve gone through suggest he wished her closer to the frontline. Mimic’s requests to return to the Changeling Lands were denied by the Queen.”
“He wanted her to die here,” Plexippus said quietly.
“Have we taken her family prisoner?” Flurry asked.
“They are in the Changeling Lands,” Mudbeak answered after Plexippus did not.
Flurry clicked her tongue after a heartbeat. “Thank you, General Mudbeak. I’ll meet you outside. We’ll talk before I leave about the administration of the south.”
“The changeling is…” Mudbeak steeled himself. “He is not to be harmed, Princess.”
“I know,” Flurry returned. “Leave.”
Mudbeak and his adjutant, a shaking griffoness, left. Amoxtli and Nightshade pulled the doors shut to the office, then slung their submachine guns into their hooves. Flurry Heart walked around the desk to stand in front of the window, forcing Plexippus to look at her.
“So,” Flurry began, “Mimic’s family would die if she surrendered.”
The changeling did not respond.
“Your family would die if you did not surrender,” she continued. “How’d you meet her? Gonna be honest, she has that ‘married in Las Pegasus’ look. Your foals are young. Were they born here?”
“They have nothing to do with this,” Plexippus hissed.
“Really?” Flurry snorted. “What’s the story? I’m curious. Changelings used to raise their young communally, right? Under the Queens? Which Hive are you from?”
“It’s all under Queen Chrysalis now,” the changeling said dismissively. “Does it matter?”
“No,” Flurry accepted. She frowned. “Did Mimic hate you as she died? Or was she just surprised? Did you open your magic and feel it?” The changeling’s lips shook, but he did not answer her questions. The Thestrals hissed.
Flurry Heart looked over the changeling’s head to the wallpaper she had torn down. Her voice turned dangerously cold. “What happened to the Buffalo?”
“You know what happened to them.”
“Say it.”
The changeling sighed through his fangs. “The Queen ordered-”
“No.” The power in Flurry’s voice rattled the window behind her and caused Plexippus to be forced back into the chair. The legs rocked back on the rug. He finally stared at her with wide green eyes. His uniform was unbuttoned and creased; the sleeves hung loosely over the holes in his forelegs.
“The captain that sank your ship said the exact same thing,” Flurry intoned. Her voice lost the magical force, but not the frost in every word. She spoke slowly. “I have heard ‘orders’ across this continent. Tell me the truth. Why?”
Plexippus’ eyelids twitched. “You want the truth? Pick one. They shot at us with breechloaders. They refused to know when they were beaten. Some scientist in Vesalipolis did a study and found out they had less love to give anyway.”
“Chrysalis ordered Trimmel to wipe out the Yaks and he did a shit job,” Flurry countered.
“Rockfeller approached us,” Plexippus hissed. “Those ponies out there? They didn’t give a shit. If they weep about it now, they just shrugged then." The broken sign rotated around to show more of the Buffalo underneath. "The ponies that actually gave a shit about the Buffalo died fighting with them.”
“And you helped every step of the way,” Flurry stated. “Don’t try to tell me it was just orders.”
“I was ordered.” Plexippus drew in a breath. “And I did not give a shit. Happy?”
“Yes,” Flurry said to his visible surprise. “I know honesty can be hard for changelings.”
“If you’re going to kill me, just fucking do it, you bitch.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Flurry replied. “You and your wife are going on the radio to talk about the Reichsarmee’s mercy. My mercy. I’m sure Chrysalis will call it lies, but some will listen and have hope that there’s a way out of this.”
The changeling failed to hide his relief. He sagged against the desk. “Fine.”
“After the war,” Flurry said, “you will be tried and found guilty. You will be sentenced to life imprisonment in the darkest hole I can find. You will never see for family again, so cherish what time you have with them now.”
The changeling looked up from the desk. “W-what? T-that’s not…”
Flurry cocked her head at him. She did not hide her derisive smirk. “What? You think you get away with this after a pathetic, ‘I surrender!’ and some simpering? Those documents you signed protect you during the war. Postwar, all of you are mine.”
Plexippus’ eyes widened. He licked his fangs. “Please.”
Flurry scrunched her muzzle. “Don’t you dare beg. Not after all this. If you refuse to go on the radio, I might upgrade your postwar punishment to execution. Fair warning.”
The changeling had no more to say, so Flurry turned on her clipped tail and trotted down the desks.
“You are as cruel as her.” The voice was dual-toned.
Flurry Heart twitched, stopped, and turned around. Her horn glowed and the doors and windows turned gold. The ward surrounded the room. The griffons outside surely noticed, but none tried the doors.
Plexippus sat in the chair and bared his fangs. “You’re no better than her.”
Fine. Flurry stared down her muzzle as her horn glowed. After a moment, she smiled brightly. “Did you know there are two camps?” She spoke in Herzlander with a lilt that made the Katerin accent sound higher-pitched.
“There’s two camps,” Flurry repeated. She trotted up to the desk slowly as she spoke. “One’s a bit nicer than the other, but both are going to get very, very crowded. I’m afraid your family is going to end up in the larger camp. It’ll be wet. It’s raining a lot. Griffons are a little trigger happy, too. But you should be fine.”
The changeling said nothing.
“Oh.” Flurry raised a wing to her lips. “Well, the Kreigsmarine might end up at that same camp with you and your family. They probably aren’t happy. You can stay together, all wet.”
She winked. “Maybe you can still play slots with your wife? Or…maybe she can play slots with other ‘lings for love rations for your fat little grubs. I doubt those griffons care too much after all that's happened.”
Plexippus inhaled. “I misspoke.”
“I don’t think you did,” Flurry teased. “Honesty has its rewards, doesn’t it? The nicer camp is usually reserved for officers anyways, so they can go there.” The alicorn looked out the shielded window. Her horn lifted up one of her saddlebag’s flaps and she flicked through the folders of Maud’s documents until she found what she was looking for in the bottom of the bag.
Flurry pulled out the pistol and snagged it with a wing. She popped the cylinder free with deft feathers, bringing it up to an eye. She spun the one bullet into place. “I took this from Applejack before she made her choice.”
The alicorn swung the cylinder back into the revolver and set it down on the table by the wooden grip. She shoved it forward to the changeling with her long wing. Plexippus jerked his head back and blinked rapidly in confusion.
“You killed a lot of changelings to protect your family,” Flurry said with forced enthusiasm. “Kill one more.”
She removed her wing from the pistol and stepped back with a smile.
Governor Plexippus shuddered in the chair. “Please.”
“How many Buffalo said that?” Flurry asked rhetorically. “Hay, no pressure. You can all go together. Or they can go to the nicer one. I’m sure your wife will tell your daughters stories about how the mean alicorn killed their father anyways, so taking the chance might be better.” She looked to the window. “This is Las Pegasus, after all.”
Nightshade and Amoxtli stepped forward with their guns. Nightshade’s eyes were hard. Amoxtli bit her lip with a fang and looked to the scars on her back. Her golden eyes returned to the changelings unflinchingly.
The revolver was old without a trigger guard. It had been designed by earth ponies. Probably the same model that most had down here. Plexippus reached out with a hoof, then hesitated.
“Please, let me say goodbye.”
Flurry raised an eyebrow up to the crystal band with six jewels. “Do you want them in the room for this?”
The hissing sob that escaped him was far too high-pitched for the scarred muzzle. Flurry watched with a glowing horn as he shakily scooped up the revolver in his hooves. His magic sparked a few times, but the changeling lacked the concentration to hold the gun to the side of his head and get a clean shot.
He finally tucked it underneath his mouth and used a hole in his hoof to pull the hammer back. It made an audible clicking sound and the changeling gave a full-body shudder. Plexippus looked up at the ceiling after taking a few short breaths through his nose. He froze, eyes wide.
“You can try to shoot me,” Flurry offered. “You might succeed. Of course, ponies will kill your family for it.”
He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger with clenched fangs.
Flurry Heart snorted.
Plexippus opened his eyes in confusion. His shaking hooves held out the revolver. He had pulled the trigger back against the grip with the side of a twitching hoof.
A golden glow surrounded the hammer halfway to the firing pin.
The revolver was yanked out of his hooves and floated up the alicorn. Flurry gently set the hammer, flicked the cylinder open, and removed the bullet. She tossed the brass to him and it rolled across the desk. “Keep it.”
The changeling shook in the chair as the wards faded. His eyes were wet.
“You will all go to the nicer camp and talk on the radio,” Flurry promised. Her voice remained cold. “Enjoy every moment left with your family, every moment that you denied thousands. It’s more than you deserve.”
The revolver floated back into her saddlebags and the alicorn turned around. She twisted her head back over a wing. “Oh, and if I was as cruel as Chrysalis? I would have brought them in here to watch, then sent them to the other camp anyway. Good job being a good little ‘ling for her. Seems like it was worth it.”
The Princess flapped her wings for Nightshade and Amoxtli to open the doors. Her eyes lost the ice and fire, and the alicorn blinked heavily. I’m tired of this place. She tugged back another strip of wallpaper to see the equally tacky wallpaper underneath. Chrysalis’ muzzle rotated on the sign outside, showing the chieftain grinning.
Equestria wasn’t like this. This wasn’t the Equestria her aunt believed in. It couldn’t have been. She believed in the School of Friendship. Were the Buffalo there? I’ll ask Smolder before I leave.
The answer was no. There had been plans before the war, though. Surely.
Before Flurry Heart returned to Canterlot, the clouds connecting Chrysalis' casino to the rest of Las Pegasus were broken off, and the entire building was pushed out into the bay. It became a target for artillery practice by the Reichsarmee to sight their defenses. The space in the city was slowly sculpted into a new airfield while trains began to ship thousand of changelings east under armed guard.
Flurry Heart did not listen to the radio broadcasts on the way back to Canterlot.
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Jean De Basse and Paddy Rockfeller are from The Bounty Hunter's Journey series. Some of the first EaW fiction I read, and pretty damn good.
Flurry's acquiring quite the sadistic streak. Probably not a good sign overall...
I'm impressed that the changeling had the balls to compare Flurry to Chrysalis though as we have seen in this chapter Flurry still hasn't crossed that line. Gotten close to it? Oh yeah so close she practically lives on that line but not yet.
Still it does suck seeing and hearing the 'Real' Equestria rather then seeing the Equestria her family worked so hard to protect. That land was lost in the fires of war anyway.
Whelp back to Canterlot with everyone's favorite Kaiser and a new challenger in the form of a doe royalty.
Really looking forward to the Diplomatic conference Grover's is going to have his claws full, that's for sure. I hope he and FLurry get some alone time as well to be adorable together :3
Flurry you're not exactly proving him wrong considering that you did that seemingly out of pure sadism because he backtalked. And not bringing his family up is arguably just as bad since it denies him a chance of a final goodbye.
Beyond that, the image of old Equestria in Flurry's head is getting continuously tarnished the more Flurry learns about.
I mean I signed up for this story for it to be dark, but sweet Boreas that ending was something else.
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Guy that committed genocide: "You're just as bad as the Queen that ordered me to commit genocide."
Girl that's just about the only thing stopping a genocide: "...Okay, you know what?"
She had to talk Grover into the prisoner plan. If she wants total bug death, she can have it. Plexippus isn't Jachs, rubbing his hooves with a frown about what he had to do for the Changeling Hegemony. He carried out his orders ruthlessly and efficiently until his family was on the line. Judging from his wife and kids, he enjoyed Las Pegasus over the years. He feels guilty about Mimic, not for the years as the governor. She's tired of hearing about how she's "Chrysalis Lite" and "orders," especially from a guy that's sad he won't see his family postwar because he did a bad thing.
Mentioned a long time ago that the problem with fighting Chrysalis is that you can slide down the ladder pretty far and still be better than her. Flurry demonstrated that she's capable of sliding a few rungs lower and still be above the Queen of the Changelings. She's pretty correct on the assessment at the end of what Chrysalis would do from what we've seen. Flurry's sending her Tzinacatl to the undercity to stop lynchings and allowing Thorax to try and pick up deserters. Plexippus answered honestly and she told him honestly what would happen to him postwar. She gave her word he wouldn't be executed if he cooperated. If she reaches out a hoof, don't complain that you wanted more.
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Don't get me wrong, I'm not defending him, and I'm not opposing her. There's just something so raw about the line "You've killed so many in the name of orders, kill one more" and I totally didn't see it coming.
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I'm not saying Flurry is as bad as Chrysalis. She absolutely isn't. It's just that that whole show with the revolver at the end was ultimately pointless. She had already made up her mind beforehand and she wasn't going to let Plexippus actually kill himself. It was cruelty for the sake of cruelty because he said something about her that she didn't like.
This meeting is going to be fire
I feel a little sorry for little Flurry, she is giving everything she can and is still compared to that demon
I swear that flurry is so blunt at times that you could use her as a hammer
Mimicking that bastard Benny, thank goodness I crucified that pedantic stain of a moron
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Flurry might have the moral high ground right now, but i dont expect that to persist after they reach the hegemony home territory. Non-sadists dont take pleasure from tormenting a POW because they said something mean.
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She's as subtle as a sledgehammer and hits as hard as one...which makes it very effective when she decides to be manipulative. The only ones that can consistently tell are Thorax, Spike, Jacques, and Grover. And it took Grover a few meetings to figure it out.
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Almost had him in the checkered suit. Seems like something he would loot somewhere just for fun. Impress Dusty Mark.
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Comrade Flurry: "Ah, the rampant stains of the Hegemony's capitalism. Wait, what do you mean it was like this before the war?"
She grew up with stories about Show!Equestria. Appleloosa and the Buffalo had a scuffle and threw pies at each other. Gladmane's resort was sorted out. The problems were solved by her aunt and her friends. Sure, maybe ponies didn't prepare well for the war, but the south wasn't under the hoof of an oil baron in the background; that...that doesn't make any sense. The cutie map would've done something! Or the Elements! Flurry's not the most culturally sensitive pony, but she can take one look at The Full Moon and know it's bullshit. Ponies didn't build tacky theme park casinos of Thestrals and Buffalos that they barely understood to turn a quick bit.
They did.
Welp, no earth-pony supremacists declaring their racial superiority. Just your average society actively exploiting the racial minorities.
Totally different thing.
Also:
Apparently, someone brought their bathtub toys to the casino?
And:
Her what?
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Whoops, meant to be "chips" and "stomp." I have never described changelings as having hair aside from Chrysalis, though the mod varies. Same with griffons and ears. Some do in the mod. Some do not. They don't in the show, so they don't in P&K. Or does Katherine have floofy ears that I have never described? Griffons have teeth in the show, should they have teeth? Sharp, shiny teeth... Nah, I wanted to emphasize physical differences between ponies, changelings, and griffons.
I tried to think of something smart to say, but my charisma and intelligence stats are too low, so instead I'll post Frank Sinatra's "Blue Moon" from New Vegas. Think of it playing as flurry leaves Las Pegasus.
https://youtu.be/GD6PreqIz6o
Also i suppose Duskcrest was right, the game was rigged from the start, at least in Plexippus's case.
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The point of those dramatics wasn't what she was literally doing, but about what doing it meant.
Incredible chapter. I can totally see why some feel Flurry was a bit sadistic here, but I don't see it that way myself. Her tactics are cold and far from ethical, but more than anything they're calculating, effective, and remarkably controlled. It would be trivial for an individual such as her with basically unchecked power militarily, magically, physically, and mostly politically to lose control and fly off the handle whenever she wanted with almost no repercussions. Instead, she keeps a tactical mindset with her long-term goals in mind even in the face of stuff that rightfully enrages her. Was the revolver bit absolutely necessary? Probably not. Would most creatures in this story given just a drop of her power have crushed him to the atom for daring to complain when she's been a practical angel of mercy to him? Yes! It's easy to talk about "Oh well that's not ethical. I wouldn't do that." when sitting on our comfy couches with a drink in hand in perfect safety. It'd be a bit different after years of war, death, horror, and the weight of the world crushing you 24/7. As usual, incredible characterization. Looking forward to more!
I swear, I only refreshing this page for story and comments.half of the fun is down here.
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I mean war is hell and everything that he had signed off on led to a major genicide of an entire ethic group of people. Yes they didn’t seem to surrender but we can’t be 100% sure that attempts weren’t tried when it went badly for them.
And as the trials of the nazis have taught us, “I was just following orders” isn’t going to cut it when the winners put you to task. The Americans and Soviets proved that by not really getting war crimes afterwards because they won.
How many of the buffalo would have begged for their families safety, many of them I’m sure. The fact that as she said “I didn’t have them in here to watch as I made you use the pistol and send them to the bad camp anyway” is very accurate. If you remember the shield bomb in canterlot going off that she had her secret police kill whoever stopped the one project even when she knew that she was the one who killed it.
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I don't think she cares at all about looking absolutely virtuous to someone who literally committed a genocide. Frankly that moment of fear was a mercy in comparison to what they should receive.
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Yeah, you know IT.
Ayyy, it's them!
Also holy shit that last scene is cold.
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I mean, geese have teeth. Horrific teeth, but teeth nonetheless.
Also, this continues to be the single best story on this entire goddamn website. In the immortal words of Pops: “Good show, jolly good show!”
You meant we right?
I suppose it was only a matter of time before we reached a point where Flurry would make me pause.
While everything else she has done throughout the story was cold at the best of times, and horrific at the worst, it was still all done in the name of pragmatism and the forward momentum of her mission.
That last section, though... That just felt cruel, almost vindictive.
Plexippus was no saint, not by a long shot. But to accept their surrender only to turn around and condemn them to a life in prison is... I don't know... It doesn't sit right with me. Is it warranted? Yes. Dirty? Somewhat.
I'm still one hundred percent with Flurry, make no mistake. Just... wow.
Maybe its just how jaded I am but really I'm just judging Flurry's morality based on how it helps or hurts her political goals.
In the short run I think she's making great decisions. That bit with the revolver wasn't pointless it literally proved a point to a ling that needed to hear that message loud and clear before he got on the radio, and before he speaks with others while interned as he'll still be in a high position relatively speaking in that other prisoners will look to him as a source of authority.
Her inability to control her own image though, being blamed for actions that aren't hers and that even those who know her well are making such bad assumptions about her intentions and ability to control herself is 100% going to bite her in the flank. I don't think she sees that coming being viewed as a walking apocalypse is great for dealing with the changelings.. That Chrysalis agrees with that and is furthering that view of her should really give her pause.
Because Flurry being viewed as a tyrannical genocidal villain helps her get victories now, but its sowing dissent and distrust among the allies. Plus it could be crucial to bring another faction into the war on the same side as Chrysalis.
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I mean, a lot of the people at Nuremberg were sentenced to life in prison. How is his fate any different? If anything his fate is an exceptionally lenient one, especially since, if we’re going to draw parallels here, he’s incredibly likely to regain quite a lot of privileges as time goes on, possibly being released a few years before death
Man, this is one of the best stories i've read in a LONG time, i feel like it also deserves more likes and recognition, such a brilliant story, every single character has a well defined role and personality, you can't hate flurry., even if she does horrendous things, shes just a product of war, many of the ponies forget she pretty much grew up so much differently, she barely knows what harmony is, shes not the princess many want, but shes the princess they NEED.
At this point in the story, the FIM series seems like propaganda from Celestia to deceive. "All is well in Equestria."
The ELF fought for an Equestria that never existed.
Hahahahaha, the stereotype of the horny bat lives even on this fic.
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You should put that link in at the end of the chapter too so more people can see it.
This fiction make me realize that, if Nightmare moon rise up and win, isn't so bad compared to.....whotever equestria is in this story.
Of course, depend if she is benevolent or Nightmare, but, at least, she tackle the changellings early on instead of being roll over like Celestia and Luna.
Speaking of Luna and Celestia, whot are their reaction with whot grover and flurry earth are doing ? The last time we heard about them was trought a letter.
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Yeah, this will place the idea of royal tours in Flurry's head. Simply leaving things in the trust of they'll do good was celestia's mistake. And she did something similar to royal tours back in nova griffonia. And if not her every time, then trusted agents, or Spike.
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Things were still fantastic for the average pony, but.. it simply wasnt as perfect as celestia portrayed it to be, it feels a bit like north korea with the propaganda, sweeping under the rug the more inconvenient and dark side of equestria, of course ITS NOT AS EXTREME but its the same idea
Princess Flurry “I convinced the griffons to allow you to Surrender” Heart. You’d think Plexippus would keep his mouth shut when he, a changeling, is sitting alive while Flurry is hanging her own ponies across the street.
Also, Dusty Mark and Duskcrest took a trip down to Las Pegasus? I can hear Jacques making wedding jokes already!
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OR:
“‘Ight, bet.”
Honestly him saying that to her has a similar energy to “What’re you gonna do, shoot me?,” and I mean that in the worst way possible.
Now, I’m still inclined to agree with a lot of comments about Flurry doing that was pretty fucked up, but I think they’re overstating it. There were multiple instances of American (and I assume other W. Allies) soldiers committing war crimes (shooting POWs in retaliation of Allied POWs being gunned down in a field and summary executions of SS as well as Concentration Camp guards and the like were the most common, IIRC), and while it’s never ok to commit war crimes (obviously) I think it is less wrong when it’s done out of anger/revenge. Executing (murdering) a POW as a tit-for-tat response to the same being done to your POWs and because it’ll probably make you/your soldiers feel better never mind that these POWs had nothing to do with it is less evil than doing so because you don’t have the manpower to guard them or the food to feed them, or because you were ordered to, or some other reason.
In the latter scenario, it’s not the heat of the battle—even if you only have 5 minutes that’s better than the split-second decisions you usually have to live with. Additionally, you don’t have the excuse of grief/rage/revenge. Now, we much closer to the Eastern Front or Pacific Theatre than France, but the Changelings don’t have hate nor revenge yet, just contempt.
Also, the fucking apathy towards the Buffalo. Fucking Banality of Evil shit right there.
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Well, this is the same person who, thinking back to some of her earlier memories, is disgusted by her being fed fancy salads while people outside went hungry, so I doubt her opinion can go that much farther down. I do wonder what sort of economic system we might see emerge 15-50 years from now (assuming nothing happens to her). It’d be neat to see how having a big scary Alicorn at the center would affect things: obviously next to no corruption, heavily results based, etc. But I also wonder how she’d affect business practices (that is to say, companies do what Ford did and improve stuff on their own terms instead of resisting and having them dictated by the government).
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I was thinking about this the other night. You know what might help Flurry to heal mentally after the war? Doing a good thing. You know what's a really good thing? Weddings. By having Flurry marry Duckcrest and Dusty, it helps her look like more of a benevolent figure, helps her reconnect with her mother, and helps her feel like a person rather than a weapon. It would also help signal to her ponies that the bad times are over, and the healing can begin as well as make her appear more approachable. She'll still be awe inspiring, but showing that Flurry can do more than warfare will hep Equestria heal.
The scene with the revolver was bloody brilliant! ...Or, not so bloody...but still, brilliant!
Typo?
Wait what did applejack do??? I don't remember a gunshot in that chapter
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She was planning on killing herself with the revolver
Though it is easy to dismiss it as a way for her to ease her conscience post-mortem (should a death sentence be required), this wouldn't be the first time she secretly offered a test of character as an out for somebody.
I kinda figured the revolver thing was also a truly last-second decision fueled in both directions by her emotions.
Her irritation sure seemed real enough, outrage at the gall of someone who had done such heinous things comparing Flurry to the evil queen who gave him those orders.
But in the end, she still has a soft spot for a father willing to die to protect his family.
But not that soft.
Flurry, you scary
and you knows it, too
Still, brilliant to make "family" one of the chapter's themes. Really contextualizes and contrasts all the different little stories we're seeing play out.