Twilight Sparkle was not a happy pony. Normally, she could be considered cheerful, or downright gay, but this was one of the rare exceptions to the rule. She received a letter today.

She had heard (along with the rest of Equestria) an outright soul-chilling laugh which seemed to echo from everywhere. She could only arrive at the conclusion that it was another villain come to ruin the peace and quiet once more (she would come to realize that she was only half right, though it would be far too late to do anything about it).

Currently, Twilight was hyperventilating and pacing across the floor (though if asked, she would merely say she was taking stock of the situation). A small, purple drake was watching her worriedly, trying to think of a way to calm her down. He waited until she was within reach before climbing atop her back and massaging her crest, working down to her withers.

She slowly began to relax, as she made her way back to the soft perch she had lept from in a worrying combination of mania and anxiety. It had been a problem she'd had since she was accepted into Celestia's tutelage, and it showed little signs of improving. She had begun delving into tangential thinking in an attempt to cope, but it often times made it worse. Thankfully Spike was here to help her.

Spike had been with her for the better part of her life, and was likely to outlive her by a wide margin (as dragons can live for hundreds of thousands of years). She had been responsible for Spike even being alive right now, so she thought (in moments of deep introspection) that it was only fitting that he be the one to see her pass safely into death one day.

On the day of her first ever test (administered by an educator), she had been asked to attempt to hatch a dragon egg (which was a nigh impossible feat for any but the strongest of unicorn foals), and an extremely convenient magical surge allowed her to do so easily. Magic surges normally destroyed a unicorn who was caught off-guard, which is why Celestia likely took her on as her apprentice.

"It's okay, Twilight," comforted Spike, "we'll get through this just like we did with Nightmare Moon."

Spike had always comforted her in her times of need, and she was eternally grateful. She always felt as though she placed too much on Spike's shoulders, almost forcing him to mature too quickly (truthfully he hadn't really matured very much at all; he just happened to be a wise young drake).

All Twilight could do was sigh in response. The two were settled in a lavender davenport, situated across the small room from a gently smoldering fireplace. She decided that this was her new reading spot with Spike due to her recent move to Ponyville (though that didn’t seem to bother him much, as he was able to relax idly while tending the library).
She had established the semiannual re-shelving a week ago (on the 2nd monday of April), and had already replaced the returned books. She actually wanted to relax for once, but the world had always seen fit to drop something on her withers.

Spike had just gotten done telling her (as he usually does) that she was going to have to do something about that "born-again villain laugh" (whatever that meant). Spike had already read her the letter, but she lifted it from his grasp to reread it anyway. "Would you go and gather the girls, Spike?"

Spike nodded reluctantly as he let the letter float over to the unicorn. "Yeah, shouldn't take too long. It sucks that we have to leave, but orders are orders."

Twilight merely nodded and watched the short drake walk off the seat and out of the room. After he was gone, she returned her gaze to the letter.

Dear Twilight,

I hope this letter doesn't catch you off-guard, but I'll need you to assist Equestria once more. I am sure you heard that laughter earlier today, and I am thoroughly convinced that it merits investigating. I know that you have already helped me greatly by returning my sister to me only a fortnight ago, but I cannot oversee this potential problem, unfortunately.

I have begun readying troops to aid you with your investigations, though I hope they will prove unnecessary. A vortex of unknown origin and destination appeared over the badlands early this morning, and few know that the source of the laughter likely originated from this same vortex. The local guard received a note from me via Dragonfyre informing them of the situation, and have been instructed to keep this incident a closely-held secret. I trust you and Spike to handle this information discreetly.

I would like for you and the girls to investigate this issue quickly. Bring Spike along as well, I would like to be informed of changes to the situation A.S.A.P. When you arrive at Appleloosa, ask for Sheriff Silver Star. He has already been informed, and will assist you until the E.U.P. arrive. Major Stout Shield will be my Liaison, and will be bringing the 4th Heavy Infantry Battalion to fortify the defenses of the town.

Again, I can only hope that they will be unneeded. They should be arriving shortly after you, and will be at your disposal. Keep me informed of anything that happens.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia

The looming Citadel was quite impressive, and seemed impossibly tall. A massive wall surrounded the keep, and guards armed with crossbows spanned its entire length. A tower split the wall every fifteen meters, and machiculations saw to it that the defenders could shoot straight down without leaning out past the protective crenels.

Directly in the middle of the road, a forward gatehouse loomed, flanking the road on both sides with guard towers, forcing attackers to penetrate an additional portcullis. Inside the first gate was a well-planned killzone, with archers high above on all sides. Inside the second gate, there were holes that led to a small room above, inside the ten meter thick main wall. I could only imagine whether they used boiling saltwater, or burning-hot sand to dump on anyone stupid enough to try and go through the gate.

Though, alongside the impressive fortifications were runes which practically hummed with energy. If I had to guess, I would put my money on them being used to keep fliers out. Especially when even the people allowed to be here didn't fly over the impressive battlements.

While there had been smatterings of guards along the streets and in the air, they were crawling thick as tavern air here. As I looked at them, I couldn't help but notice their equipment. They all wore four-in-one riveted mail, with a barbute helm. Given the dull grey color, I could also guess that it was likely iron instead of steel. The gambeson stood out beneath the mail, as it was a bright green.

It would be effective enough against a sword or axe, and perhaps even a mace if their gambeson was thick. Unfortunately, it wouldn't stop a longbow's thick arrow, or various polearms (to say nothing of a magical attack, or even a musket).

I could see little in the forms of ranged weaponry, and none more sophisticated than a simple crossbow. That isn't to say that any of it was crude, though. In fact, most all of their equipment seemed quite expertly crafted from quality material. The problem seemed to be that none of it was beyond the early medieval period technologically. That could prove to be quite interesting later on.

As I made mental notes on the technological levels around me, I came to the second gate, which also had armed guard standing above in the battlements. The great doors slowly opened just enough for three people to walk side by side through.

The sound of metal horseshoes could be heard clanging away all around, though it also seemed very distant at the same time. I looked around, seeing a massive open room, vaulted ceilings stretching at least ten meters up. Normally, I would question stone ceilings in a stone building of this size, but I figure magic made most of this normally impossible architecture quite probable.
Though impressive as this foyer seemed to be, I still needed my guide. I looked for not even a minute before being interrupted by a changeling in a maid costume.

“Zis one is proud to velcome you, graciously, to ze Citadel, Herr," she said, giving a graceful quadrupedal curtsy. Her thick German accent was soft, and demure (which sounded odd).

She was quite different from the other changelings I had seen so far. She was covered in a fine, white, hair-like substance; it made her strikingly resemble a lunar moth.

"Uh,"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Zis one is quite sorry, its appearance must seem quite odd."

"I didn't mean to be rude."

"Not at all, Herr," she said, motioning toward a grand staircase that wrapped around until it disappeared beyond the ceiling, "Zis one can understand your lack of knowledge."

As we walked, she continued, "Zis one is still in its pupal stages. All ozer pupae vould be in training at ze moment, save for Her Majesty's staff. Zere are few selected for such honors, und all are selected very young."

I hummed in acknowledgement, starting up the massive staircase. "I suppose that makes sense, but I'm forgetting myself— I'm Samaritan."

She shook her head, "Such pleasantries are vasted on Zis one, Herr. Dienerschaft alvays address guests as Herr."

I frowned "Is that customary, or are you compelled to do so?"

"Oh, it is quite customary, Herr. Zis one vould be bestraft by its forebears for such disrespect."

I hummed, "I take it that the same goes for the impersonal pronouns, as well?"

She nodded, "Ja, Herr, all zose directly employed by Her Majesty do so unless zey are vis close Freunde, similarly to contractions. Ze only exception is in ze presence of Her Majesty herself; she has expressed ve not do so, but ve attempt to avoid all pronouns togeser to maintain our respect und love for her."

"Do commoners do the same, or only during formal events?" I asked, desperate to sate my curiosity.

"You vere quite correct vis ze latter, Herr. Most citizens see no need to be so formal, zough it is mostly a contemporary sentiment."

I hummed once again, letting this information sink in. I found it odd, but I suppose it's quite normal for them. I couldn't help but be reminded of my trip to Japan.

As we silently walked up the rather impressive spiral staircase, I took time to look at the tapestries hung along the walls. They were silken, and depicted scenes of history I had no context for. On the lower floors, I didn't see the changelings anywhere, though there were similar beings who were white with colorful wings and green eyes.

The white beings (which I’ve decided to call Progenitors) were talking (or singing? It’s hard to tell with medieval tapestry art) with Gryphons, Minotaurs, and a Pegasus with a horn. There was lots of wheat and flowers with some weird writing I couldn’t read.

Eventually, Dragons entered the mix. The Progenitors seemed to be whispering to the Dragons, and there was quite a bit more writing. A bit further up, the Dragons started to attack the horned Pegasuses (Pegasi?) while the Progenitors seemed to be stealing a bunch of valuables.

As we went up, the Progenitors were suddenly replaced with Changelings. They looked like they were screaming, while they were slowly burned with a green fire. What followed was what I could only describe as a depiction of Exodus, but with bug ponies.

Whether this was an actual religious event, or a fable to explain their origins, I decided not to ask. Based on what I saw, it would be traumatic and horrible either way.

As I trundled up the ridiculously long staircase, in-between looking at the sprawling cityscape below through a window, I realized that I was about to have a meeting with royalty, and I didn't bring a gift. I can't lie and say I know how a meeting with royalty is supposed to go, but I'm fairly certain I should bring a gift.

"Is it customary to bring a gift for the Queen?" I asked, suppressing the creeping dread.

She stopped for a moment, considering my words. "Normally, ja, it is, Herr. Zough you vere summoned suddenly, und visout notice, so I suppose a gift is not strictly necessary."

I'm doomed. "Could you, like, get me a hunk of wood and a few pounds of iron?"

"Vat could you vant zat for?"

"I, uh, planned to, um... transmogrify it into a gift! I think I know just what to make, too! It wouldn't take very long, I promise." I said, quickly trying to think of something.

She seemed quite leery, but nodded. "Very vell, Herr, Zis one shall make haste. Zis one asks you remain here for a moment until Zis one returns," she said, spreading her wings.

Her chest began to glow faintly underneath her blouse, before she disappeared with a small pop. Whilst I racked my brain trying to figure out how she did that, she returned a moment later, levitating a small piece of lumber and an ingot of iron the size of my forearm. Her horn glowed a sickly green as she lowered them to the ground, the same aura also disappearing from the items.

"Zis one vas unsure of ze size you vished, Herr, so Zis one hopes zis is ausreichend."

I nodded, placing my hands on the plank of wood. "So how did you do that?" I asked, using my hands to shape the wood like clay.

"Do vat, Herr?"

"Teleport. You guys seem to use your horns for magic, but something under your blouse seemed to be doing it."

"Ah," she said, placing her hoof against her chest, "all of die Dienerschaft are given pendants to use rapid gate teleportation. Normally you vould have to be in a physical location to place a gate, but zese pendants allow us to place gates anyvere visin ze Burgmauern. Zough zey can only be used so many times before zey must be recharged.

"Zis one can recharge its pendant manually, zough it is very taxing. However, so long as ze pendants remain inside ze Burgmauern, zey vill fully recharge visin vierundzwanzig hours."

While she was talking, I had managed to piece together a simple flintlock musket from memory. Even before getting magical superpowers I could build this, though it would take me significantly longer. Especially with the purification of the iron into steel.

"Interesting," I said, slinging the rifle over my shoulders, "is all teleportation gate-based?"

"Nein, Herr," she said, resuming our trek up the stairs, "it can also be sight based or memory based, however zose are bos more taxing und dangerous. Gate teleportation vill push ozer objects out of ze way, but ze ozer mesods vill fuse massive objects occupying ze same space."

I merely hummed as I cocked the hammer into the middle position. I snapped the pan cover closed as I walked. "You're probably wondering what this is, aren't you?"

"Zis one vould never be so forvard, Herr," she said, eyes glued to the death bringer like a child looks at a red hot piece of metal.

I chuckled, "This," I said, gripping the barrel to give the buttstock a gentle pat, "is a flintlock longrifle, with a rifled barrel. With just a gentle squeeze, it can kill from up to 270 Meters in skilled hands."

"V- You plan to present Her Majesty vis eine Waffe?!" she hissed, quickly stepping in front of me. "Ze Guard vould instantly try to spear you srough ze chest if zey knew vat zat vas!"

"Frankly," I said, giving her a pat on the head, "I’m not that concerned."

She seemed quite frantic, but the pat on the head seemed to stun her for a second. "Though you don't need to worry," I said, continuing around her, "I don't plan on harming her. In fact, I wish to become close allies, or perhaps even friends. Who knows?"

That seemed to get her attention. She continued, unabated "Zis one must insist you not bring Her such sings! Her Majesty may find it as a sreat! You could be hung, or vorse, Herr!"

That made me pause, "Really? Do you think so? She isn't, like, paranoid, or something, is she?" I don't like the idea of bringing a stereotypical medieval ruler a weapon, just to be killed with it. Not that they could, though. As much as I wanted to help these Changelings (and perhaps receive aid in my quest as well), there was little they could do to me with a flintlock musket without powder (my eminently ridiculous magical powers notwithstanding).

"Vell, it is not its place to say," She said, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, "but Zis one believes Her Majesty to be most kind und understanding. It is unlikely zat Her Majesty vould do such a sing, zough Zis one suggests you still be as respectful as possible."

I let out a small sigh as she returned to her previous position. "Then why would you say something like that? You made me seriously reconsider my life choices!"

She merely chuckled as a large door appeared at the end of a short hall. "Her Majesty must maintain an image, zough Zis one sensed no deception in your vords. If vat you say is true, Herr, zen Zis one believes you may be privy to her unyielding Freundlichkeit."

I nodded as we reached the end of the hall. The ten meter tall door was flanked on either side by guards in sickly green plate armor. It was in aGothic design, but it looked like it might be made of chitin (all things considered, it probably was). As we approached, their horns ignited with a sickly green which covered the massive doors, forcing them open.

The maid bowed her head to the guards, who didn't move, and continued past them. Inside was a massive hall, surrounded on both sides with beautiful Corinthian columns. The vaulted ceiling was well over twenty meters high, and beautiful paintings of the creatures I saw on the tapestries seemed to play all around. In the middle of the mural was a drone reaching toward a slender female with long emerald hair. It was like seeing the Sistine chapel from the inside without knowing it existed.

Soon, my attention was drawn to the large stone throne on a large pedestal, with a small table and chairs set up in front of it. Sitting in the chair closest to the throne was undoubtedly the Queen.

She looked to be just under my chin standing, making her much taller than any of the other changelings. A comically small, black crown adorned with what looked like green pearls sat on her head, behind a long, jagged horn. She had eyes like the Colonel, though one was obstructed by a flowing emerald mane.

She was lithe, sleek and lightly muscled. Her legs were long and slender, though they seemed to be riddled with holes. Strangely enough, though, was the fact that the holes didn’t seem to affect her ability to walk much.

What was most odd, however, was the smile she had; it seemed wistful and resigned, like a dandelion seed caught in a gust of wind. Her demeanor was off-putting— it was like she thought she was going to die, but was fine with it. She still maintained a striking, regal, air about her, though.

As we approached, She spoke. "Thank you, Ostia— please return to your duties now." Her voice was two toned, the second adding a harmonic quality to it. She bore no accent, sounding like an American English textbook. Her resigned sadness was so stunning, though, that I almost didn't hear my guide leave.

Her gaze turned to me, and she motioned to the chair opposite her at the short table. "Please, sit. I think I know why you're here, but I would like to have a cup of tea first. Would you care for one?"

I nodded silently and sat the musket beside the seat, my attention wholly on the creature in front of me. Her long, jagged horn glowed slightly before a tea set popped into existence near her head. She quickly poured the tea as I removed my sword belt, placing it beside the musket. As I sat, The door at the end of the hall could be heard, signaling that we were alone.

Again, the Queen spoke. "I am Chrysalis, Queen of the Changelings. I ask that if you have come here to kill me, please leave my children in peace. I will understand if you cannot, so please be swift." A single tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Author's Note

Edited! (What in Oblivion is that?!)