Author's Note

If it's in parenthesis, it's a translation.

An Old Beginning

Near the northern border of Equestria along the outskirts of the Crystal Empire’s capital, a single cloaked equine-creature slowly makes its way slowly through the breast high snow. As it nears the bare base of a short cliff, a hole opens for the short amount of time required for the figure to enter and escape the unforgiving snow torrents.

Inside the hidden tunnels, the snow quickly starts to melt off, further revealing the dark blue cloak with only a hornless riot-mask showing under. As the figure discards the cloak to the side, it reveals the makeshift armour now shinning from the melted snow strapped on top of a soaking jacket.

However, the moistness does not bother the creature whom is covered in a natural suit of black chitin. Rather, this Changeling is relieved that it had served its purpose of keeping him warm through his trek and for blending with the locals.

Well, as blended as one can be when wearing a black jacket of two centuries past style and armour made of scrap metal.

Luckily, the ponies he had blended in with were holding a large gathering to show their love for a story based in an apocalyptic world, so nopony batted an eye at the armoured “pony” who’s riot-mask had a slight blue glow behind the eyes. Despite the fact that many a-ponies had gone missing last seeing this armour, for ironically this Changeling could not change shape due to damage received during the Siege of Canterlot. Those who went missing though, were never seen in the act, and didn’t raise many concerns in their disappearance.

Looking up in the entry chamber, the Changeling took into mind the only Ponish carvings allowed in the hidden outpost, “Ex Uno Multa”. Those words were once spoken by the Legionaries of Nightmare Moon centuries ago when put on trial for their treason. The pronunciation itself meant “out of one, many”, but the armoured Changeling felt it fit much better with his Changelings. All Changelings in this outpost knew those words by lack of heart and were instructed to yell them when charging an opponent in an open assault, or when facing certain death if it were to come to that.

Walking forward, the wall under the carved words opened an entry hole for the Changeling, granting access to a chamber with two halls above and below each other. The one hall straight, required the ability to fly or walk anywhere but the floor for entry. The other goes almost straight down, again requiring the ability to fly or traverse walls. No point in allowing intruders easy passage after all.

On the flanks of both of these halls were more chambers and halls with holes opening and closing in chaotic rhythms which would make no sense to any not plugged into the hivemind of the outpost.

Just as the armoured Changeling was about to make his way down to the hivemind stone, a voice from caught his attention.

“Comrade Captain Breakheart, I see that you are back.” Said a Changeling drone coming through a wall to the right of where Breakheart had entered.

“Comrade Gaster,” replied Breakheart, “what is it you need me for?”

“I just wanted to make sure your scouting mission went well, comrade captain.”

“It was just as well as any others, but there’s always that one pony who doesn’t stop about how my outfit doesn’t match the Neighvada Rangers exactly as described by the author ‘Dojj’.”

“Oh, are they all that annoying, comrade captain?”, asked Gaster, never having blended in with ponies before.

“No, but their love does taste odd, slightly sweaty. And very hard to syphon from the air.”

Captain Breakheart started down the vertical hall with Gaster soon following in tow. After a couple of paces, Breakheart got the feeling that Gaster was now staring at his flank with the jacket’s swallow-tail awkwardly flipping over his back due to gravity.

“Aren’t all those straps around your legs uncomfortable, comrade captain?”, Gaster finally asked.

“You get used to it.” Said Captain Breakheart half-heartedly, “Just like with sucking love from the air, it’s not satisfying at first, but you forget about it when it saves your life.”

“Oh. Are you ever worried that any ponies will recognize it from our attacks, comrade captain?”

“Not as long as we let none escape. And it doesn’t hurt that we only go after Crystal Nationalists camps.”, Captain Breakheart replied, recalling how that group only seemed to cause hate. “Besides, even if it were Celestia herself bringing the Sun down on them, they’d still blame the Soviet Equines’ Party.”

“They won’t even recognize our banner you wear, comrade captain?” As Gaster was referencing the small versions of the Tri-Bars-&-Martyr attached to Breakheart’s front leg armour.

“Of course, not they’ll only see the top red bar, they probably don’t even notice the blue or green ones. Not until they awake here.”

After all, even the Crystal Nationalists’ pride and blood lust could feed the Changelings. Even if it tasted sour enough to cause some Changelings to gag.

“Speaking of the ponies’ petty arguments, I still can’t believe we are allying with the Soviets. And now that I think of it, basing this outpost off of them.”, Gaster questioned as the two were nearly half way down the vertical hall, “oh uh, Comrade captain.”

“We are not quite allies, we just have a common enemy. We then adopted their structures as it works well to keep us all running, considering our lack of supplies coming in. Plus, you don’t need to say, ‘comrade captain’ to me every sentence.” Breakheart said, not knowing how many times he had made those statements.

“Oh, apologies. Lieutenant Zhelezo wanted me to respond to him as such. I just assumed you would want the same.”

Stopping mid-wall to give Gaster a life’s lesson, Breakheart explained, “You know what they say when one ‘assumes’,” Gaster turned his head away knowing the second part all too well, “Besides, Lieutenant Zhelezo is insane, I keep him in the position because he happens to be a decent warrior. And between us”, Breakheart paused while turning his body to be able to lean almost mask to face with Gaster, “he scares the flames out of me.”

Returning to his walk down the hall Breakheart continued, “Just don’t let him take control after me, got it?”

“Understood, thank you com-. Uh, Breakheart” Gaster corrected with a slight smile. “And there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

“And that is?”, Breakheart, slightly annoyed, responded.

“Why are you still wearing that mask and helmet, nopony can get in and we all know your you’re a Changeling.”

Letting a sad sigh out, “Because what is a Changeling without its horn.” Then turning his head, and deepening his voice, Breakheart continued, “Besides, it looks more intimidating than my cut-up face.”

“So, what are you going to do if somepony at those conventions recognizes your armour?”

“We just had this talk, they won’t. Besides, the Crystal Nationalists have a way of getting kicked out for ‘disruption of the peace’. Turns out ponies don’t like it when some are insulting others constantly.”

“But on the off chance something does happen?”

“Then I’m wearing a full suit of armour, against those who only read and dream about adventures. Just don’t worry you little head, I’ll burn that bridge if we get there.”

As they neared the end of the hallway Gaster excused himself to a room on the left which had been the mission planning room of the recently missing third in command, Nakts Nodenviba; a red eyed Changeling who like Breakheart, also had a damaged horn preventing shape shifting. And often hidden by his black jacket was that both were wingless. His disappearance was so recent, Breakheart himself didn’t even know he was gone yet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, asked Breakheart sharply.

“Have you not heard, Second-Lieutenant Nakts went missing last night. I’m just checking if he left any clues. He was always a fan of puzzles after all.”

Entering the room filled to the brim with maps and report scrolls surrounding or covering a central stone table, one could tell someone here enjoyed collecting information. If there was a clue, it would take an obvious plot convenience to find.

However, one rolled up map on the cluttered table did draw Breakheart’s attention. On the side on it was, in burning red, written, ‘|_\ |_| ~\ `- | > =’ (Surhive), the name Nakts had proposed for the commune. Admittedly, it was one of his little ‘play on words’ he always did.

Opening the conveniently marked map, revealed a single ruin in the centre of a map of Equestria. Oddly it was just the ruin ‘3’ (B) just South-West of Canterlot, the capitol which all in the commune vowed to send crashing down that mountain. But with Nakts gone, bringing the outpost numbers down to 193 Changelings, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

Turning towards the hallway-side wall and walking close enough to create an entry way, Breakheart gave a final order to Gaster.

“Looks like he’s gone south towards the ponies’ main capitol, but we don’t have the numbers to support him. So, go back to doing something productive”

Walking out, then down, Breakheart traversed the rest of the way until the floor opened in front of him.

Finally, in the bottom-most chamber of the outpost, Breakheart took off his mask and let out a slight sigh of relief for being able to just be alone, for this chamber could only be opened by the recognized leader for it held the stone powering the district’s hivemind. Indeed, it was basically the same principle of Chrysalis’ old throne. And seeing how that turned out with easy access, all remaining loyal outposts were given orders to defend their district’s stone at all costs.

The one before Breakheart was a metre-wide meteorite which had a fair amount of copper buried inside and belong to what was known in the Changeling kingdom as D.C., ‘Distract Cold’. Other districts would be formed by possessing either their native rocks, other meteorites, or in extreme cases with rocks brought from Changeling-controlled lands. The only requirement was for there to be copper within then rock, as it is an element able to be a conduit of Changeling magic and anti-magic into the surrounding area.

Although, as far as Breakheart was aware, D.C. was the last Changeling outpost still loyal to the Swarm’s method of stealing love to feed its own kind. The rest had gone silent, in worst case possibly turn-coating.

Speaking with a slight lisp caused by his tongue having been slashed in the past but hidden by the mask, Breakheart monologued to the rock, “The natural order of things was perfect, but they forgot to read the old manuscripts and focused more on the building structures. And if only Thorax knew what he was leading them all to. Doesn’t he know this had happened in the past? The ponies betrayed us then, just as they will now! But no! No one bucking remembers! By the fires of Tartarus, Chrysalis probably didn’t even remember.” Continuing in a built-up fury, “Well, let them go to Tartarus! Those traitors, those cowards, those uneducated! We came back once, we’ll rise back AGAIN!”, then taking a deep breath to regain his composer, “I’m yelling at a rock. Well, by this rock I swear that My Swarm will stay safe. And as one We will re-right the wrongdoings done to the natural order.”

Then, in the ground in front of him, he carved with his hooved ungues a seven-point star with crossed swords flanked by the wings he had lost long ago.

Stepping back to examine his work, Breakheart exclaimed in a lack of breath, “This will be our battle flag, and it will one day fly over our lost hive. And you’ll bear witness to it. Ex Uno Multa.”