The Pawn Who Would Be Queen

There was once a time when Orzel had reveled in the joys of sleep, as it provided her the only respite from the day to day doldrum and terror inherent to being labeled 'defective'... She would curl up on her bed and try to preserve as much warmth as she could with her old threadbare blanket, and for her troubles find herself carried off to the realms of adventure and wonder. Sometimes she was an active dreamer, able to mold the experiences to her liking as she pleased, while other times she was merely along for the ride. They could be bizarre, strange, and even frightening, but every morning she would awaken with the sad realization that the adventure was over. That was no longer the case...

For the entirety of her time in Equestria, Orzel's beloved respite in the land of dreams had was almost exclusively now the purview of nightmares. Sometimes the details changed, sometimes she would relive other traumatic events in her life, but by and large they all tended to follow one common theme, all contributing to her desire to never so much as look at a bed again. Each night she would find herself plunged into the a swirling miasma of blackness and shadows, illuminated by faintly glowing embers and distant structures silhouetted by a roiling inferno.

The details of buildings were distorted to a ghastly degree, bodies lay eviscerated and torn apart on all sides, and the blood... So much blood. At first it petrified her, but lately the sight of it... It would cause the Princess's pulse would quicken, her vision would narrow, and she would feel a pain of hunger so intense that at times it was enough to wake her.

She could see only one benefit to the nightmares, and that was that in her dreams it was far easier to confront the truth... She was a carnivore, a predator, with a nigh insatiable hunger for meat... Every day she was surrounded by prey, but it was prey that she'd sworn to protect. Lately her requests to have her steaks prepared 'Rare', and her use of a knife and fork for that matter. were for the benefit of humoring Mother. Orzel's instincts told her to just rip them apart bloody and raw. It was just her natural state, she wouldn't deny that, and it was only through her strict mental discipline that she kept from clearing out the Castle's meat locker on a nightly basis...

Orzel considered those instances, where the hunger fostered by her nightmares was enough to wake her, to be a mercy. On the nights where she remained asleep, the faces of the dead would linger like phantoms, their sole purpose for existing seeming to be the constant torture of the Princess with her deepest fears. Screams of terror, many of them her own, would echo from all around her. There were times when it was as if the wailing cries were confined to her head, and no amount of trying to cover her ears would so much as muffle the chronic demented howls of hungry beasts that accompanied the violent death of an entire city.

Those howls in and of themselves added a new dimension to the horror, because as much as Orzel hated them for what they'd done, she... Understood them... The dreams almost always ended in the same grisly fashion, with her stood atop the steps of the Vindictan Temple, watching her father's ship as it was pulled beneath the waves, the horde of foul creatures just moments from barreling down on top of her, if she was lucky... Sometimes they would come to a halt and stare at her, as if petrified... Her eyes would narrow, her tongue would slather, and she would tear into them with just as much brutality and ferocity as they'd showed her city...

Their howls soon turned to shrieks of terror, the beasts themselves becoming human, and it was Orzel that they were fleeing from. Typically she would be roused from her fitful slumber at that point, and in those fleeting moments between sleep and wakefulness, Orzel could see with supreme clarity just how much she was changing. It wasn't just the physical changes, it was the mental ones, and what was worse was that there was nothing that she could to stop it, even if she wanted to... The real kicker was that she didn't want to, she liked the feeling of power, the rush of adrenaline, the exhilaration... She wanted to do so much more... To indulge the predatory instincts, to stalk an animal through the woods, to claim its life and gorge herself, until all that remained were gnarled fleshless bones.

The worst part was that Orzel could scarcely remember those feelings or the exact events when she fully returned to the waking world... She only knew that every morning she awoke soaked in sweat, terrified, heart racing in her ears, and she would pray to Lexicos that she never fall asleep again... So Orzel would busy herself with work, spend hours listening to the radio, work on her models, pray frantically for at least one night's reprieve, anything to stay awake. As a dragon, Orzel didn't need much sleep, just a couple hours was enough for her to function adequately... That didn't mean she didn't get tired, of course, and every night it was a fight to keep her eyes open until at least four o'clock in the morning. Then she'd endure two hours of torturous sleep and awaken to face another day of stress, anxiety, and work, which would be capped by another bout of self-imposed insomnia, the cycle continuing ad infinitum.

Last night... Hearth's Warming Eve... Had proved different. It seemed that for her prayers had been answered, and not by the machinations or intervention of her Mother either... The burning city failed to materialize, neither did the beasts, the skeletons, the laughing faces, the blood... The savory, salty, tasty blood... All was silent, save the calming sound of crashing waves. The aroma of salt water replaced the whiff of charred timbers, and she felt the sensation of gentle rolling that could only come about upon the sea.

Orzel stood upon the quarterdeck of Piorun, the woman in the midnight black hood alongside her on one side, and her 'Dragon Self' in white on the other. As always, neither woman ever spoke, not a single word, even when she tried to address them directly... Instead, both would point off into the West, somehow she knew it was West, at the distant looming shape of the Monolith. Then, just as Orzel was trying to formulate a response, the two figures faded from view. The girl found herself completely alone, standing at the wheel of her Father's ship. The waves roiled, the wind howled its fury, and there she was, struggling at the conn, fighting the storm.

"Some Captains think it safer to face the storm in the harbor, but I have found that a ship is just as likely be broken up on the shore as you are by the waves..." Her Father's voice drew her attention to the left, a deep baritone that rolled like thunder, with all the tenderness of old shoe leather.

There he stood in his black leather great coat and crushed peaked cap, his old gray uniform sodden with the spray of the sea. She'd never seen his face so clearly, so crisply, but she could've sworn he looked... Older than she remembered. The Monolith still loomed in the distance, but the sky ahead grew dark with furious clouds. The waves tossed the ship about like a child's bath toy, and it was only then that the big man took the wheel from her.

"I know the weather is rough, child, but now is no time for fear. There is no changing where we are, only how we handle our ship." The girl hadn't even realized she was trembling, stepping back from the wheel, she watched her Father captain the ship through the swells. "We cannot run, nor can we fight, and we sure as damnation cannot bargain our way out of this! Nothing for it but to batten the hatches and face Maritima's wrath on her terms!" Maritima, the Szafirian Goddess of the Ocean, as temperamental as she was powerful... Father commenced to laughing, a sound Orzel rarely heard from the man, before shaking his fist at the gathering storm. "Come on, you beautiful sea-mother! Give us a show!"

Orzel opened her mouth to scream at him, to ask if he'd lost possession of his faculties. Insulting Maritima was a good way for a sailor to get him or herself sailor killed, so actively antagonizing her had to be downright suicidal! The words never came, however, as the Princess head abruptly smacked into something very hard and very cold. In an instant her father and his ship were gone, and the oppressive tendrils of sleep bade her a swift and unanticipated farewell. Again, for a few moments, she saw what was happening to her... What she felt... What she wanted... And just like that, it was gone.

Orzel first opened her eyes to the deep droning sound of a steam whistle, and was greeted by a blurry compartment of navy blues and occasional accents of silver. Stretching her arms above her head, the young Princess groaned in exertion and sat up straighter on the couch. Feeling blindly about a nearby table, she squinted as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Another tri-toned whistle shrieked through the car, accompanied by a steadily repeating rhythmic 'chuff-chug-chuff-chug', accented by several loud clanging bells. The room jostled ever so slightly, adding a distinct 'clickity-clack-clickity-clack' to the racket. As her faculties more fully took hold, it was obvious to her where she was...

"What time is it...?" Orzel blearily groaned in Draconic, willing magic into her words and watching the blurry emerald wisps leave her lips. Holding her palm open, she felt the familiar tortoiseshell frames levitate daintily within her grasp. Judging by the dim gray light, it was either morning or sunset. Fumbling with the spectacles, she clumsily set them upon her nose. Just like that, her surroundings came into focus. Easily she recognized it as one of the numerous cars of Mother's train, the 'Family Car' as it had come to be known. Seated across from her, smiling benignly, likely in response to her daughter's apparently blissful slumber, was her Mother...

"Nearly eight in the morning." Luna responded evenly, her eyes turning to a small black ball of fur currently resting in the breast pocket of Orzel's bomber jacket. Midnight had fallen asleep there some time after the trip from the Castle to the train station, and apparently had yet to move. Absently, Orzel rested a hand on her familiar's warm fur, her other moving to brush a few bothersome strands of hair out of her eyes. "I admit I had hoped you would be afforded more time to sleep, but I suspect our arrival is close at hand..."

Orzel cast a brief look out the window at the dimly lit sky, the thick dark clouds overhead diffusing the coming dawn, making all appear brighter than it actually was. The hilly landscape was covered in what Orzel knew was dreadfully frigid snow, broken up by the faint glowing lights of a few small sleepy villages at the foot of some distant mountains. Their lofty peaks were hidden from view by the clouds overhead, and each was cloaked in great snow covered forests of pines and conifers. The girl stared at them in a mixture of wonderment and astonishment, not only at their height, but their sheer number. The Canterhorn stood more or less alone when compared to the other heights of its range, and Orzel could scarcely believe that so much soil and stone could be stacked so high... Even her model of Equestria didn't do those distant peaks justice.

"You are certain I cannot convince you to reconsider...?" Orzel asked with just the faintest fleeting hope, but Luna only shook her head. The girl hadn't expected her Mother to take her final plea seriously, but what more was there for Orzel to do?

She realized that for Luna to handle whatever the looming crisis was, Orzel would need to be 'safe'... She just wished it hadn't come about just as she was finally getting her life back together, especially not after last night... The girl could still hardly believe that Spike, handsome, heroic, smart Spike, had any interest in her beyond friendship. Much as she wanted it to be, that aspect of her departure wasn't important right now. This was potentially her last chance to converse with Mother face to face, her last chance to learn in total secrecy what it was that so damned urgent she couldn't be allowed to stay in her own home.

"Will you still not tell me now why I must go? What threat I must design these weapons to defend against?" Orzel asked seriously, adjusting her headscarf and brushing the rest of her hair back into its snood. Rolling her shoulders, she attempted to shake out some of the stiffness that'd settled in as a result of her sleeping with her head against the frigid window pain. Mother stared at her, unsure as to how best respond. "We are alone, Mother, on a train bound through the middle of nowhere... There is no one but Midnight to overhear us now..." Luna looked like she was about to dismiss that request, then stopped, her features darkening.

"Do you know of Changelings?" Luna asked, and Orzel briefly paused, her mind running through the vast vault of collected knowledge that was her brain. There were legends and folktales referring to 'Changelings', strange mischievous creatures that 'stole' emotion... Other than that, however, Orzel's knowledge was limited. She had little interest in fictitious creatures, not when there were so many real threats that needed to be studied. Orzel nodded tentatively, but it was clear she was still searching for more than that. "They are more than they are made out to be... They are real." All her searching for forgotten tidbits halted at Mother's admission, and Orzel's eyes focused solely on the woman across from her. "They change shapes, take the form of inanimate objects, animals, even family members... The intent is to infiltrate a family unit and siphon positive emotion, typically love." A lot of things suddenly made a lot more sense then...

"So that is why you are sending me away..." Orzel deduced, it wasn't a question, though Luna simply nodded in confirmation. "Do you fear me to be one of these 'infiltrators'?" The quiet of the room was broken by Luna's sudden and genuine laugh, but Orzel couldn't see the humor in her words. Luna's laughter rapidly trailed off, and in a matter of moments her typical serious expression returned.

"The Changelings would have a very difficult time replacing you..." Luna stated in Szafirian, folding her arms across her chest, and Orzel saw fairly well what she meant. There were few people in Equestria that could speak Szafirian as well as Luna, and Orzel was the only 'Native Speaker'. Luna would only need to ask an infiltrator what time it was in the difficult to master dialect to reveal their falsehood. "However, I do not put it past them to try." With her features becoming more serious, her Mother continued in Szafirian, which Orzel was grateful for... "That is why I must send you away, Orzel. Somewhere they do not know, somewhere beyond the potential for their reach... Even if they just impersonated a guard, they could attempt to do you harm, or take you hostage..." Orzel nodded quietly, seeing the pain that speaking about the subject brought to her Mother's eyes, but even this didn't seem like the whole truth. "I admit, there is a more personal reason this was kept from you..."

"What personal reason would I have to fear these creatures?" Orzel responded bitterly, almost offended, but Luna still seemed uneasy. The woman finally seemed to gather her words after a few moments of uneasy silence, still she needed to work her jaw before speaking.

"The Nocturne Agency performed an autopsy on the creatures that followed you here, on the night of your arrival..." Luna began hesitantly, and Orzel felt as if a ghostly hand had somehow wormed its way in to her chest to clutch her beating heart. "They were changelings... Far different from those of this world, but changelings all the same. I feared that telling you of that fact would provoke you to... Rash action."

Orzel stared at her Mother, blinking silently as the cauldron of long buried terror boiled into life once more. The beasts that had tormented her nightmares, which she'd thought confined to that distant 'other world', not only had a name... But they existed in this world as well. That horrific fact paled in comparison to the revelation that they, these 'Changelings', were the latest threat to menace her new home... It felt as if the two filthy beasts that had chased her across the gulf of reality were just the prelude, and even as she spoke, an even large force was gathering... A force that was intent on taking all that she held dear, all that she'd built for herself, all that she'd worked for... Her nation, her subjects, her family, Spike... The people she loved. Those beasts, those... Animals! As an aspiring scientist, alchemy was just one of her many disciplines, and so the girl was briefly aware that the cauldron of terror was transforming from one state to another...

Orzel wasn't the same frightened orphan, chased to this world by beasts she could never hope to face in battle. Her ordeal had served as the crucible in which her very essence had been melted down, and Luna had cast that essence into a new, stronger form... Both in mind and body. She was smarter, more self assured, in better control of her fear, more than she ever could have been in her Old World. If it came down to it, as terrified as she might be, Orzel had no doubt she could rule Equestria if needed. No... She wasn't as weak anymore. She was strong... She was a a dragon! An apex predator! That was when the miasma of fear and anxiety suddenly reached a critical boiling point, and all the terror and grief she'd endured finally latched onto the beasts' very name.

A feeling unlike anything she had felt since the day of her first Elemental Transformation erupted from the cauldron, replacing her fear with a fury as vast and as deep as the ocean, and as frightfully terrible as an infuriated god. It was Changelings that had slaughtered her people and killed her family, it was Changelings that haunted her nightmares, and now they menaced her motherland... Again. They were likely conspiring at that very moment to take her books, her home, her freedom, her throne... Yet none of these compared to the thought of losing her Family... That couldn't... Wouldn't... Happen. She would not allow such a thing to happen to her ever again!

They would not menace her books, nor would they take her throne, and none would so much as lay a wretched finger on her family or her freedom! They were hers, and with more righteous conviction than a Vindictan Shield Maiden, Orzel would rip, rend, and tear asunder any that so much as dared threaten those things which she held so dear. They where hers, damn it! Her hoard would NOT be pillaged and plundered by mere prey! She would sooner leave their bones to bleach in the sun as she basked in its warmth with a protected hoard and a full belly. The apoplectic volcano of draconic instinct was set to blow its top, and its vengeance would be as brutal and as terrible as it was legendary! It demanded action! It demanded retribution! It demanded blood! She would lay down upon the Changelings a devastation of such biblical apocalyptic proportions that all of Equus would tremble to its core!

"Orzel...?" Luna's voice was distant, but she spoke with obvious concern. Orzel saw in the reflection of her glasses that her glowing emerald eyes were brighter than was typically healthy, and she couldn't have cared less. "Deep breaths, Orzel... Come back to me, dear... I know you are upset, but you must calm down."

Orzel was familiar with anger, aggression, and even hatred. They were emotions she'd discussed with Doctor Scratch numerous times, and on which she'd spent countless hours meditating to mitigate, but this... This sensation scorched through her veins like molten steel, and left her bones with a sensation on par with that of a mighty battleship... Powerful... Invulnerable... Dangerous. It was just as scintillating as ever, and Orzel found it inordinately difficult to turn away from the inviting lure of predatory instinct.

Midnight had hopped from the girl's pocket and sat rigidly on the floor, watching Orzel's restless hands tore jagged holes in the fabric of the couch... This was the second time that overpowering emotion had inadvertently caused her to damage this very couch. Seeing that took her back to that day in the Situation Room, to the fear and terror she'd seen in the eyes of her advisers, her subjects... With that memory, she somehow conjured the fortitude to rein in her fury, and in so doing came calmly back to the present.

Orzel's heart rumbled in her ears like the pounding drums of war, so favored by the Imperial Legions of her motherland. Prying her fingers loose from the tattered fabric, Orzel stared at her hands with a growing sense of dread, watching as they seemed to morph and bulge beyond her control. A groan of frustration left her throat as several strange bronze colored patches of scales manifested in her palm... Some of them were tinged an odd shade of green, like oxidizing copper, yet somehow more vibrant.

"Why is it not stopping?" She squeaked nervously, yet even as she stammered those words she could hear the voice was not wholly her own. Its two-toned nature had only progressed further, becoming gruff and smooth at the same time, reverberating through her chest with all the echoing grandeur of tolling temple bells. More of the scales appeared on her skin, or rather, they replaced her skin. First transforming her hands, which now boasted a set of intimidating claws, before spreading up the sleeves of her jacket and out of sight. "Mother... Help me! I am losing control!" Orzel looked at Luna, already the Princess was moving across the gap, her palms glowing faintly. Without hesitating, the woman placed her hand on Orzel's forehead and a familiar sort of tranquility washed over the girl, punctuated by that distant familiar lullaby...

"Be calmed..." Soothed Luna, withdrawing her hand, both watching as the scales receded into Orzel's skin. In their wake it seemed as if no change had occurred, save for the patches of scales that had been there previously. The claws failed to recede completely, as her nails had turned just as black as the fluted curled horns concealed beneath her scarf. "This is why I hesitated to inform you." She added with a concerned, almost chiding, tone. "I must admit, I had not expected you would undergo a transformation as potent as that..." Orzel blinked as Luna took a seat beside her, then looked at her hands again, a whirlwind of thoughts whipping up her worries. "Never fear, no harm no foul" Her Mother assured in that same understanding voice Orzel had come to know so well. "You are a Drake, Orzel... You must remember that such responses are entirely natural." She likely added the last part for Orzel's benefit.

"I was not in control..." Orzel grunted with a level of concern she didn't think herself capable of, her eyes settling on the once again damaged upholstery. "Mend yourself..." She ordered, but her focus was still too scattered for her magic to function properly. Growling in annoyance, she did her best to clear her thoughts and repeated the command. This time the magic flowed freely, brightly weaving among the torn fabric, until all sign of its recent damage disappeared from view. "I realize that it is 'natural', I had just thought I had a better handle on it than that." She shook her head, mind rapidly returning to its well ordered, if slightly frazzled, baseline... Almost instantly, a new fear presented itself, and her eyes darted to Luna. "Is this another reason I am being sent away...? Am I becoming a danger to others?" Her Mother shook her head, pulling Orzel into a tight hug and gently rubbing her back.

"No no no..." Luna emphatically declared, kissing the top of Orzel's head. "It is as I have told you countless times. For too long we have had too many of our eggs in one basket. That is simply a luxury we can no longer afford. As much as it pains me... Pains us both..." Orzel gulped quietly as Luna relinquished the hug, at which point Midnight hopped back from the floor and scurried her way onto Orzel's shoulder. "I am sorry to say that you must remain secluded until we have dealt with the Changeling menace... It is the only way to ensure that Equestria's government survives should the worst come to past." Orzel quietly ran her fingers through the fur of her mouse, its soft texture helping to set her nerves at ease. "Amberjack Island is already working on the creation of a Arcane Beacon, much as we have in the MSC..." She gestured towards the rear of the train. "In four months or so I shall be but a simple spell's casting away... Until then, I am afraid, you will have to endure..." Orzel considered the reassuring words quietly, her eyes drifting back to the floor.

Another guttural shrieking whistle pierced the silence from ahead, and the train's brakes squealed upon the slick steel rails. Orzel looked out the window, watching the rapidly passing scenery gradually slow. The bell was ringing again, occasionally overpowered by more long blasts from the locomotive's principle signaling device. The journey, it seemed, was about to reach its end. On and on the train slowed, until it was barely at a crawl... It was then that Orzel spotted a tall chain link fence, topped with coils of barbed wire that shed packets of snow as the train rumbled past. A large sign situated beside the barricade confirmed her suspicions. 'Unicorn Point Naval Air Station'... A small and otherwise uninteresting supply yard for ships of the Western Fleet, save that it also served as an airbase for the Navy's NBH-7 'Bluejacket', a sea plane employed for everything from maritime rescue to anti-submarine warfare.

"I must make myself presentable..." Luna declared softly, rising from the seat and flaring her magic to begin tidying up her tired features. "Remember the ruse we discussed, none can know that this is where you departed the train." Orzel nodded hesitantly, this was it... Her last moments on the soil of the Equestrian mainland. She only wished that she hadn't nearly undergone another transformation just there, as on top of being inundated with new fears and fury, she was now also incredibly hungry.

With great reluctance she removed her headscarf, then quietly tucked her Monolith pendant beneath the collar of her flight suit. Examining her hair, which by now was growing a few inches past her waist, Orzel carefully tucked it up into her snood as best she could manage. From within her flight suit pocket she pulled an aviator's hat, her long red neck scarf, and darkly tinted pilot's goggles. Donning these articles took but a few moments, and when combined together left Orzel looking very much like the nose gunner of one of the dozen or so Bluejackets bobbing up and down somewhere within the confines of Unicorn Point's harbor facilities. This was entirely by design, with Orzel's jacket even having been modified with patches that displayed appropriate Naval Aviation insignia and the rank of a Petty Officer Third Class.

The locomotive emitted one final thunderous whistle as the train came to a stop at a rather unassuming platform, situated among numerous other tracks, typically reserved for freight cars. A series of officers in white uniforms stood outside, the only deviation being their thick navy blue peacoats. Orzel shivered at the thought of walking through the freezing air in all but one of those thin wool garments, but she doubted she could get away with more than that. Her Mother examined her outfit and nodded in approval. At least one of them was happy... Thankfully the arrangement was temporary. Her Mother then pulled Orzel into a tight hug, tighter than Orzel had expected.

"This is where we must say goodbye..." Mother stated, unable to hide a brittleness that had crept into her voice. Orzel returned the hug just as tightly as she could, realizing that this could possibly be her last time in physical contact with her Mother for a great while. "I love you... So very much." Luna kissed Orzel's forehead again, and the girl could feel a few drops of moisture seep through the the cap. "We shall speak as soon as Amberjack completes the beacon." She couldn't keep from squeezing her daughter almost painfully, and Orzel returned it with just as much vigor.

"I will make you proud, Mother..." Orzel promised, managing to restrain her own glistening eyes. It broke her heart to let go of the woman that had helped her when she needed it most, that had loved and cared for her as if she were flesh and blood, but this was what she had steeled herself for. Suppressing her weakness, she forced herself to let go of Luna, taking a deep calming breath.

"You already have..." Luna stated gently, hesitantly starting towards the door. "You can do this, my darling... You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for." Orzel might've broken then and there, were this a few weeks before. Instead, she bit her lower lip, by now she hardly so much as felt the jabbing sensation of her fangs. "Try to see this positively... A return to coastal living may do you good." Her Mother offered with a weak smirk, watching as Orzel grabbed her satchel bag from a hook beside the exit. The young Princess slipped it over her shoulder, then pulled the fabric of the red scarf up to cover her lower face. Between that and the goggles, it was impossible to spot her defining features.

Mother at least had a point in her last statement, as Orzel actually did like the idea of returning to the water's edge. Under different circumstances she likely would've been excited, but not like this... Canterlot had become her home, just as much as Cesarski once was... This time, at least, that home was not in flames when she'd left. Whether it would remain that way, given what she'd learned of the threat that morning, remained to be seen. If the worst came to pass, if Canterlot burned in that same devastating way, laid low by that same wretched foe... Orzel resolved in that moment that she would avenge herself upon the Changelings without restraint.

It was perhaps not the 'Equestrian' thing to do, but as much as she had embraced Equestrian customs, there were some aspects of the Empire that still held true in her eyes. She'd learned more about the fate that had befallen the precursors of her civilization from Piercing Gaze, how they had been nearly exterminated before their journey to her Old World. Those traumatic wars had left their mark on Szafirian thinking, even countless generations later... For example, where most Equestrians could hardly imagine a situation where they would need to take a life, for Orzel... Well, it was a far less imposing moral quandary. She still wouldn't abide blind destruction for destruction's sake, but if something happened to her Aunts and Cousins in Canterlot, or anywhere for that matter, there would be no 'negotiated peace'... Not until the Changelings were brought to their knees, and only then would she offer one term... Complete and unconditional submission.

Sighing heavily through her nose, Orzel looked about the train car, then at her Mother one final time. Midnight had vanished from sight, the familiar undoubtedly making herself scarce on account of the need for secrecy. Grabbing a white canvas seabag from beside the the door, filled with several sets of clothes and other essentials, Orzel slung the sack over her shoulder. She would become 'Petty Officer Third Class I. Cognito', at least until she boarded the NBH bound for Amberjack... Taking one final deep breath, Orzel steeled herself to face the frigid outside air, and the coming departure from all she'd come to know that was soon to follow. Whistling sharply, she held her hand out to the side, deftly catching 'Fantom' as it flew to its creator. The broom had been disguised to conceal its arcane properties, taking on the aspect of a simple cleaning implement once more.

The crowd of waiting officers approached the train, and to any outside observer it would be impossible for them to spot the Princess or the young 'Petty Officer' descending from the rear platform. Luna made her way along the officers, shaking their hands while Orzel paused, shivering in the snow laden breeze. The air here smelled similar to that of the Neighport News Naval Shipyard, but was more strongly related to Cesarski. A bold bouquet of brackish brine, coupled with the wafts of rotten wooden piers and an almost foul fragrance of foetid fish. With her newly evolved tongue she could just as much taste the mixing scents as smell them, and that... That was a new experience, but not a wholly unpleasant one. Steam gushed from the locomotive where it had come to rest, obscuring the Naval Depot beyond, so Orzel made her way through the dense humid fog with haste.

The North Luna Ocean seemed distinctly darker in color than its Celestial counterpart in the East, a malevolent mass of churning waves and breaking white caps. Each wave had the apparent texture of a crumpled tarp, building and rolling with purpose up until they came to the breakers. The waves crashing against the battered white sands of Unicorn Point came with furious resolve, beating themselves against the immovable shore, as if driven to destroy that which would not submit.

The Naval facilities here were mostly comprised of a few large concrete slips, with several aged looking warships snugged up close to them, rising and lowering with the waves. Most were Altair-Class destroyers, but one or two looked like Albatross-Class replenishment ships. Fuel storage tanks dominated the southernmost portion of the Depot, while a trio of prefabricated metal warehouses dotted the north. A towering black and white checkered lighthouse stood defiantly at the very edge of land, its rotating beacon cutting a powerful swathe through the mist laden air. The most best protected portion of the harbor was reserved for a single floating seaplane, as the others had apparently been dragged up onto shore.

The gulls swooped and capered on the breeze, adding their shrieking voices to a chorus of memories that Orzel welcomed with an unexpected openness. She had to wonder why they hadn't migrated south for the winter... Perhaps there was more than ample food here? Those questions perished as the wave of nostalgia washed over her, and the girl inhaled the heady scent of the sea once more through her nose. It was a deep breath, taken with a surprising ease considering how cold the air was, but it was nonetheless enough. For a few moments Orzel allowed herself to pretend that she stood upon Cesarski's shores during winter, watching the distant horizon for the three masted form of Piorun...

A dull mournful moan arose in the distance, rolling across the waves and shattering the illusion. Orzel blinked a few tears out of her eyes, then looked for its source. Plowing purposefully through the waves on the horizon, smoke streaming from a singular stack at the apex of her central superstructure, Orzel laid eyes upon a familiar form... She'd never seen one in person, of course, but she'd made a model of this ship. The raised white letters upon her gray painted bow read 'CENTAUR', the word streaked by rivulets of dark red rust. She was a Cyclops-Class collier, converted to haul fuel oil, judging by the refueling booms secured along her hull.

A series of white flashes appeared on her starboard bridge wing... Dots and dashes, Morse Code, just one of the many things Orzel had familiarized herself with upon making the Navy 'her' patron branch. She couldn't signal worth a damn, yet, but she could at least understand the message. From her course and speed, it was obvious that the ship meant to dock at Unicorn Point, and the signal bore this out, further adding that the ship needed to replenish her fuel bunkers and discharge passengers. That wasn't all that surprising, as at present there were few suitable aircraft that could cross the ocean, save perhaps the NBH Bluejacket. Naval officers tended to take transport on replenishment ships like Centaur rather than planes, there were far better accommodations aboard.

"Hey, quit your gawking, Flyboy! Ain't you ever seen a tar hauler before!? Gods damn!" A rough voice boomed from behind her, and Orzel nearly rounded on the source with half a mind to tear into them. Thankfully, however, she managed to keep her temper from flaring. Of course, being referred to as a boy certainly didn't help matters. Granted, the heavy flight suit and other bulky accoutrements made most men and women look virtually the same.

Orzel turned towards the speaker, incensed that she'd been addressed so rudely, but stopped herself... She was supposed to be a sailor, not a Princess. The man that had spoken, like many sailors she'd seen, was a powerfully built fellow. As usual he towered above her, his weathered face screwed up in a snarl, his cheeks coated in a dark crop of coarse black beard hair. The red rank insignia sewn to his peacoat indicated this man was a Bosun, which explained his fiery temper... Bosuns were more or less identical in this world and her old one.

"Er... No, act-chew-olly." Orzel said sheepishly in Equestrian, adjusting her grip on the seabag over her shoulder. The Bosun's eyes briefly flared with anger, but then they took on a mirthful glean as he started laughing, placing a hand on his stomach. The girl realized she hadn't really taken steps to alter her voice, so in the eyes of the Bosun she must've sounded just as strange as she felt. Her eyes darted about her surroundings, then settled on two strange alterations to the venting steam of the locomotive at her back.

Grim and Fable emerged through the cloud, adorned in olive drab peacoats and wearing coyote brown knit caps, their faces impassive. They silently loomed behind the Bosun, taller even than he, glaring down at the chuckling man. Orzel smiled at them, not that she could see, then waved a dismissive hand. This gesture ended the man's laughter rather quickly, but Grim cleared his throat before he could lay into the girl-in-disguise.

"Mister Cognito." The Giant grunted forcefully, the rumbling of his voice catching the Bosun off guard. "You mustn't go running off like that." Orzel nodded with faux admonishment, looking at the ground. "I hope this boy hasn't inconvenienced you, Bosun. We're escorting him to his new station..." The Bosun at the behemoth in astonishment, obviously unused to looking up at someone, but nodded somewhat sheepishly. "Let's be along, Mister Cognito." He gestured towards the slip where the NBH Bluejacket was bobbing up and down.

"Aye, sssir..." Orzel responded in keeping with the ruse, following behind the two Lunar Marines as they led her away from the rather surprised fellow. It was a short walk, and as usual her guards didn't say much. Orzel was honestly surprised to admit it, but she was quite comfortable here, in spite of the frigid air. "Mister Grim?" The man looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Will you and Mister Fable be flying to Amberjack Island with me?"

"Unfortunately not, your Highness." He rumbled quietly, tucking his hands into his pockets. It had to be minus twenty degrees, maybe thirty, and yet Orzel felt... Invigorated. Every breath of the salty air filled her with a warmth that was difficult to describe, not that she was complaining. They were less than twenty yards from the plane now, meanwhile Orzel could line handlers securing heavy ropes from Centaur to large mooring cleats while men and women descended a gangway. "The Bluejacket is a tad too small, we'll be traveling via teleportation magic once we return to the train." Grim explained, pausing briefly to examine his watch, identical to one worn by his brother. Both were brand new, Hearth's Warming gifts from Orzel. "We have little time to spare."

The trio descended a set of concrete steps to a wooden pier, the planks beneath creaking audibly with Orzel's every step. Part of her feared that she might be to heavy to fly in the NBH, but trusted that Director Orcus, or whomever it was that came up with this little exercise, would've accounted for the deceptive mass inherent to dragons.

The NBH itself was an interesting aircraft, far larger than Orzel had expected it to be from the photographs she'd seen, appearing as if a large sperm whale had produced offspring with an SB-71 Citadel. It was a gull wing design by necessity, with an peculiar twin-tail assembly. For power it possessed two massive radial engines, housed in nacelles which also served as the bomb bays, each engine sporting a large black tri-bladed propeller.

The aircraft's landing gear was likewise recessed into slots along its fuselage, so as not to interrupt its aquadynamic or aerodynamic profiles. Two square sections of the fuselage near tail had been cut away, each equipped with a .50 Caliber machine gun. It possessed a single tail, nose, and a dorsal machine gun turret, all of which were likewise equipped with two .50 Cals in twin mounts. A pair of tear drop shaped floats extended down from either wing, which could be raised or lowered by means of a hydraulic assembly. These were not to be confused with a quartet of detachable fuel tanks mounted along the underside of the wing, adding to the NBH's already considerable long range of three-thousand miles.

It was a short walk along another extension of the pier to the waiting aircraft, which was occupied by its seven man crew, already in the process of preparing the aircraft for flight. Orzel wished she could've just stood around and gawked at the aircraft for a few minutes, but there simply wasn't enough time...

"Are you our 'cargo' to Amberjack?" One of them, a First Lieutenant whose name badge identified him as Bowsprit, asked upon noticing the new arrivals. He and the others were dressed virtually identically to Orzel, save the red scarf that concealed her face. Orzel cast a nervous look at Grim and Fable, then nodded and adjusted her grip on the sea bag. "Not the first time we've made that trip, especially recently. We took a couple Captains, even an Admiral, but you're the only person I've seen arrive with their own escort." He said, jerking his head towards Grim and Fable. "What're we dealing with here?"

"VIP, total discretion required." Grim stated, producing a folded piece of paper from his jacket and handing it to the Lieutenant. "I cannot stress enough the secrecy with which you are to carry out your mission. No one, not even you, can know the true identity of who they are." The man stated seriously. "If you must address them, refer to them as Nemo. Don't ask them questions, don't make conversation, just get them to Amberjack as quickly and quietly as possible, by whatever means necessary." Bowsprit unfolded the paper, his eyes darting over its contents.

"From the desk of Director Orcus, Head of the Nocturne Agency. Upon receipt of these orders you are to proceed directly to..." The man read aloud, trailing off before he emitted an impressed whistle. This drew the attention of the other crew members, who paused in their work to look at who Orzel now deduced to be the pilot. "Alright then... Listen up boys, no chatter, no questions. I need you as professional as possible. We've got orders here to give our guest a wide berth." Bowsprit looked at Orzel as several other men extended a gangplank to the pier. "Hop aboard and we'll be off, just make sure you put on your headset. It's just about impossible to hear once these engines are running."

Orzel cast one final look at her two body guards, then, for the first time since she'd gotten there, stepped off of Equestrian soil. She descended the gangplank, her bag and broom in hand, and ducked into the belly of the NBH. It was strange, having the sea beneath her feet again, but... Not a welcome strangeness. Carefully she navigated the dull green painted interior, all the way up to the nose gunner's position, resting her belongings behind her. It didn't take long for the Princess to get comfortable, as thanks to her stature the space was more than enough for her to stretch her legs. The crew soon took their stations, making preparations for departure. As instructed by Lieutenant Bowsprit, the Princess donned a headset resting on a hook beside her head.

"Cast off!" Bowsprit's voice cut through. "Props are clear?" He asked, another man's voice responded in the affirmative. "Alright, throttles to start positions, fuel mix to auto-rich..." The aircraft was floating freely of the pier now, riding easy in the comparatively calm waves of its slip. "Roll Engine One!" Orzel heard a sputtering electronic whine over head, preceding several coughing mechanical gasps followed by a steady growing growl. "Roll Engine Two!" Another whine joined the first, followed more quickly by another rolling roar. "It's gonna be a miracle of we get airborne with all that chop out there." There was another affirmative response.

The aircraft slowly throttled forward, turning out of the slip and making its way through the harbor. Orzel was treated to a feast of the eyes, as it allowed her to see a good deal of the ships up close and in more detail than even her most carefully crafted model could hope to match. She wished it was a feast of the actual sort, as her grumbling stomach and the revelations made by Mother were still heavy in her mind. She would need to study the legends about Changelings in greater detail if she was to produce a weapon to effectively kill them, that would include getting a copy of the autopsy report from the Nocturne Agency. That was a battle Orzel was not looking forward to in the slightest, as they still had yet to release her Mother's remains, or any of her other personal effects aside from her family's ancestral sword...

Said sword currently resided, among other things, in Orzel's satchel. It certainly wasn't the most stylish accessory out there, but the canvas proved the most effective medium for her storage enchantments. She'd thought it might be a viable candidate for mass production, something that might allow combat medics to carry more life saving supplies for the same amount of weight. While there was some promise as technology progressed, the current automated embroidery tools in use throughout Equestria weren't nearly precise enough for an enchantment as complex as creating a stable pocket dimension.

It'd been essential to complete the satchel before her move to Amberjack, as it now contained a great number of books from Orzel's personal library, some of which were bound to contain vital information about the foes of Ancient Equestria. Given the amount of time she'd be out of direct contact with Canterlot, let alone the nightmare of trying to get any information out of the Nocturne Agency, these tomes very well represented her only metric by which to compare her work.

The girl quietly opened the satchel, staring down into the black aperture before reaching in and grabbing something. Pulling her hand free, she found it clutched around a book... 'A Bestiary of Equestria's Wilds, Circa 1633'. Published three-hundred-two years ago, at least if Orzel understood the Equestrian calender properly... It'd changed several times since the nation's founding, so historical dates could be a little fuzzy at times. Examining the book for a few moments revealed it was akin to a telephone directory in size and thickness, virtually a pamphlet when Orzel took her reading speed into account. Piercing Gaze had been correct on that front, her ability to read and comprehend books had drastically increased with the development of her eyes.

By now the aircraft was being jostled by larger waves, and the pilots were discussing what course would be best to take in the run up for take off. Orzel lifted her gaze from the book's cover, and it was then that she realized how close to departure she was. The coming dawn cast more light across the scene, diffused as it was with the thick overhead clouds. The ocean stretched out before her as far as she could see, a rolling, pitching, tempestuous horizon that wordlessly asked if the NBH dared to brave its icy surface. Orzel stood up in the gunner's bubble turret, turning her eyes to the final section of Unicorn Point's harbor facilities... She didn't see Mother there, but.... She didn't expect to.

The pilots seemed skeptical about the sea conditions, but were no less determined. Orzel soon heard the engines run up to a higher RPM, the aircraft surging forth in the frothing foam. The waves tossed the NBH about something fierce, but nonetheless continued on with dogged determination. The white caps gradually evened out as more distance was put between the aircraft as the shore, and Orzel could feel the aircraft's engines spin up to take off power. She quickly resumed her seat, holding the bestiary in her lap, watching the horizon with tense anticipation. She'd flown plenty of times by now, but that was on Fantom, never in an aeroplane... This was the first time she'd take off in one of the fixed wing aircraft she so ardently supported.

The Princess didn't know how fast they were going, but it was steadily increasing, even as they bulled through the sloppy sea. Still, she wasn't sure if they'd be able to reach take off speed... Placing her hand against the cold aluminum bulkhead beside her, the Princess bowed her head forward and began to mumble a quiet spell, beseeching Lexicos to allow her to temporarily imbue the aircraft with some of her power. To her relief, Orzel watched the tendrils of her magic flow from her mouth and vanish into the hull. The engines roared louder, the airspeed rapidly increasing, much to the surprise of the pilots.

"It's coming up..." Bowsprit declared over the intercom, the roughness of the sea against the bottom of the aircraft became notably less frequent, as if they were skipping across the wave tops rather than punching through them. "V1... Rotate!" There were a few moments where the aircraft seemed almost unnervingly quiet, even with he rumble of the engines. The sloshing of the waves below vanished, and Orzel was treated to a sensation she'd grown accustomed to on her broomstick. Like some great majestic cormorant, the NBH slowly, laboriously, slipped the surly spray of the sea and clawed its way skyward. "Positive rate of climb, retract the floats."

She would be remiss not to stop and marvel at yet another display of her Motherland's ingenuity and technological prowess. To take flight without using exclusively magical means was an exhilarating experience, and the sensation of wonder that overcame Orzel's concerns filled her with a new found respect for aeroplanes in general. Much as she loved Fantom, there was no denying the renewed desire to acquire for herself a pilot's license and an aircraft to call her own. While it was true that she'd given the engines a little boost for take off, the magic had stopped flowing now, and all that propelled the Bluejacket upwards was the thrust of its propellers and the air flowing over its wings...

Steadily the NBH's altitude increased, until it passed through the dark overcast and emerged into a world the likes of which Orzel had never seen before. In all her time flying, she'd never dared to go higher than the clouds... Not for fear on her part, but rather the protestations of Mother for potentially putting herself at greater risk. Had Orzel known the sights that awaited her at such lofty heights, she would have ignored Luna's protests and regularly cruised atop the nebulous fields of angelic white.

Below her was now a field of puffy tufts of alabaster vapor, an uneven sea that stretched onwards to the horizon, like thousands of gigantic balls of cotton. These were in turn tinged by striking hues of pink, orange, and red, courtesy of the sun rising in the east, behind the tail of the Bluejacket. Had she only one word to sum up that magisterial vista, it would be 'Divine'... If ever there was a visual argument for the existence of a higher power, be that Lexicos, Faust, or any other loving deity worshiped on Equus, it could be encapsulated in that awe inspiring beauty... A panorama that no master painter, nor photographer, nor composer, nor even the most descriptive author could ever hope to do justice in their respective mediums.

Orzel only wished that she could share that view with someone she cared about... Luna, Sokol, her Father... Spike... It was at the thought of him that Orzel's heart fluttered in her chest. How she wished she could see him one more time, free from the watchful eyes of Mother, or Grim and Fable. Just a few minutes him, to talk, to laugh... To just be near each other. He cared about her, and she about him, more than she could hope to put into words. What mattered to her most of all, more than his acceptance of her physical failings and the pitfalls that might arise from courting a Princess, was his kind heart and keenly aware mind.

It was so much easier for Orzel to relax in his presence, to allow her guard to slip, because she knew in her heart that Spike would never hurt her... Even knowing that she could take care of herself, Orzel knew that she was safe with him, that he would protect her just as ardently as she would protect him. He'd first become her best friend, and now... Something more. What that was, exactly, Orzel couldn't say for certain. It would probably be a long time before she got an answer to that question, in no small part due to the Changelings... That was what led her attention away from the beautiful morning unfolding before her eyes, back to the bestiary still resting in her lap.

Lifting her pilot's goggles to her forehead, Orzel adjusted her spectacles and leaned back in her seat as much as it would allow. Then she cracked open the book, briefly reading over the table of contents. Over the course of the next few minutes she swiftly and methodically turned through the book, page after page, never lingering on a page for more than a second. The words flowed through her mind, telling of numerous monsters and beasts from three hundred years past. Most were myth or legend, but some were very real, including the Changelings... As Orzel had expected, the book didn't possess much in the way of verifiable scientific information, but there were several stories of questionable authenticity that related to identifying a person as an infiltrator.

They could mimic objects, animal, and people with such accuracy that the scholars of the day had trouble discerning the difference between a real person and Changeling imposter's arcane signature. If a person suspected of being a Changeling was killed, or subjected to grievous bodily harm, they would be consumed by arcane fire... Leaving their clothes intact, but 'burning away their disguise'. Furthermore, if blood was drawn of the suspected imposter and it fluoresced brightly, they were most certainly a Changeling.

It was believed that they preferred environments with a very high ambient temperature, deserts, swamps, jungles... It didn't really matter, so long as it remained consistently warm. As far as Orzel could tell, other than glowing blood and the ability to shape shift, they didn't possess any other obvious traits beyond a normal person. They weren't immortal, nor were they inherently stronger in a physical capacity... Certainly nothing like the beasts that'd burned Cesarski to the ground. They could bleed, and most certainly die, just as easily as any other living thing... That meant her PM-72 design could work just as well against them, as would whatever else she came up with. Orzel had finished the bestiary within seven minutes of first opening the book, quickly stowing it back into her satchel.

The air was growing considerably colder with every minute that followed, enough so that she pulled on a heavy pair of fur lined leather flight gloves. The pilots and crew were still conversing over the intercom, though Lieutenant Bowsprit paused briefly to instruct Orzel to put on an oxygen mask, as they were now passing eight-thousand feet. The oxygen would become dangerously thin from that point on... The Princess of course complied, pulling her scarf down to ensure a good seal. Even with all that was happening it was hard not to be slightly excited, surely this had to be the highest a Princess had ever flown.

Eying a compass embedded in the gun mounted before her, she could see they were turning South West on a heading of two-three-zero. This would take them over the Western Land Bridge in a matter of hours, which Orzel was certainly curious to see. What most people thought of as the Western Unknown was actually just the land bridge, connecting the continent of Pastora to another unnamed continent, as undiscovered and dangerous as it was strange. It was there that a great many powerful villains had come from in the past, and that consistent connotation for powerful evil had led much of the known world to decide that they wanted nothing to do with the place.

Occasionally expeditions would be proposed, argued over, and eventually canceled for fear that they might bring something truly terrible back with them. Much as Orzel hated the idea of science being impeded by fear of the unknown, the bestiary she'd just read highlighted just how many dangerous things there were on Equus that even modern science couldn't account for. If she was lucky, if the cloud cover dissipated, she might be able to briefly catch a glimpse of that forbidden realm... She couldn't help but wonder if maybe that was where the Changelings were actually hiding, somewhere they knew the Equestrians would never dare to search for them. It's certainly where Orzel would go, if she needed to hide from the authorities.

For now there was little she could do but sit and wait, so Orzel pulled her portable enchanting tablet and equipment from her satchel and set them on a flat section of metal, installed as a table of sorts for the charts of a bombardier. As she only had access to a compass, and she wasn't allowed to ask for information from the flight crew, she opted to take a proactive approach to the problem. Removing the goggles on her forehead, she set them on the tablet and pondered how best to resolve the issue...

It wasn't going to be easy with so much vibration from the engines, but Orzel welcomed the challenge... She easily could've accomplished the work on the ground, but to do so at what by now had to be ten-thousand feet, with thick flight gloves and an unsteady work surface? Regardless of the outcome, surely no other Enchantress could claim to have done the same. Given that the flight to Amberjack Island was a good thirty hours, plus a need for the crew to land, rest, and refuel at the Navy's base on Median Atoll, the Princess had plenty of time to start over should her first attempt fail. In some way she kind of hoped it did, it'd only make the trip that much more interesting.

Worst came to worst, the Princess could start working on the model rocket Spike had gotten her, though that wouldn't be without its own trials. With all that'd been going on she'd not given it much thought, but the potential possessed in that little box was just the sort of inspiration she'd needed for another facet of her hopes to mitigate another threat presented by dragon raids. Airships often played a large role in the more devastating of the attacks, they could be countered by fighters, but fighters were slow to mobilize and took time to reach altitude. Spellcasters could also do the job, but that required them to be able to see the target first and foremost, difficult to do at long ranges, or at night.

Orzel already had something cooking up in her head to aid with the latter most of the problems, but that would take a considerable amount of enchanting and research. Rockets, however, could very well solve all those problems. They were fast, and comparatively small, making them difficult both to detect and to shoot down. Though... Technically rockets were only rockets because they lacked a guidance system, so... Perhaps missiles was the better terminology? As Orzel set to work on modifying her goggles, she found herself pondering all the limitations she'd need to overcome if ever she was to develop some sort of 'Ground to Air Missile'.

Firstly she'd need to choose a propellant... The missiles had to be launch capable at a moment's notice, but their launch vessel also had to be maneuverable enough to quickly deploy. Solid propellant seemed the logical choice, though there were few options on that front. Missiles, like auto-gyros and so many other things Orzel saw as 'the future', were woefully underdeveloped technologies. The most pressing issue of all, more so than propellant or even the weapon's actual payload, was the guidance system.

Equestria already had Arcane Detection And Target Acquisition, or ADATA for short, but it required large and often expensive framework of buildings, facilities, and constant maintenance. Of course, if the missiles were to be deployed against Dragon Raids, the infrastructure was already in place. The Army Air Corps had utilized almost all of its allotted budget for the past three years to construct dozens of ADATA Outposts all along its southern border, so locating the targets wasn't the issue...

The girl sighed briefly, adjusting her position in her seat. For a few moments her eyes lingered on her broom, still disguised as a normal cleaning implement. For a few moment she felt the oddest sense of Deja Vu, as if she'd encountered a similar problem before... Cautiously, the girl held her open palm out to the side, then whistled sharply. It was virtually unheard over the engines, but Fantom leapt right up from the floor and moved to her waiting palm. She stared at the broom, realization donning, then set it back on the floor. She held her hand out at a different location, then repeated her experiment. Sure enough, the broom leapt up and placed itself squarely in her palm.

"Fascinating..." Orzel mumbled to herself, examining the broom again and turning her attention back to the goggles on her workspace. She leaned the broom against the bulkhead, her heart racing faster as her thoughts were inundated with hundreds upon hundreds of different calculations and ideas. They came at speeds that Orzel wouldn't have been able to comprehend prior to the awakening of her draconic abilities, so terrifyingly beautiful in their innumerable scope.

There were numerous problems with her idea, but problems could be worked out... In theory, if she could somehow develop an 'Arcane Guidance System', she could build missiles to do more than take down airships... They could target naval vessels, maybe even factories or hardened fortifications? There was also the possibility that such a thing might not be used for destruction, but rather the betterment of science and the world at large. After all, little was understood about the upper atmosphere of Equus, weather balloons could only do so much. Why stop there? Why not...? Orzel paused, peering upwards at the ceiling of the aircraft. Why not the moon?

She couldn't begin work on such an audacious project now, not with so many variables. It'd require at least a blackboard to put down all the calculations, and even then she suspected months, if not years, of designing and re-designing a prototype, but it could work... So Orzel would keep her potential discovery to herself, for the time being, and turned her attention back to the far more achievable goal of modifying her goggles. She had so many ideas, and now that she would be living where she was working, much more time to actually explore them all. As much as she would miss Spike, Mother, and all those at home... Maybe... Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

To say that Celestia's day thus far had been spiritually taxing would be a gross understatement, but that was the nature of peace negotiations in general. Neither side had consented to hold talks in their native territory, each fearing an assassination plot by their rivals, so Celestia had convinced them that Canterlot Castle could serve as a true 'neutral ground'. Representatives of the Iron Bloods and the Griffon Imperial Government were seated within the expansive Western Conference Room, around a large wooden table. The air was cool, the chairs were comfortable, and the refreshments were guaranteed not to be laced with cyanide. Certainly not a high bar to meet, but it was the sort of environment that Celestia hoped might lead to a lasting resolution to the Empire's troubles.

Having listened to them bicker back and forth for the better part of the past six hours, her saintly patience was finally beginning to wear thin. That had just as much to do with the arguing delegates as the fact that tensions between both sides had flared up in the wee hours of the morning, forcing the Princess to miss the departure of her niece Orzel in favor of preventing an international incident. Much as it irked her, Celestia still had to admit it was probably for the best the Griffons had come to Equestria for their dispute.

The last thing anyone needed now was for one of the top three largest iron producers in the known world to devolve into civil war. The industry had suffered greatly following the recent economic downturn in the Empire, forcing many nations to turn to Equestria to fill the demand. Be that as it may, enough countries still relied on Griffon iron that a sudden shortage posed considerable risk to the global economy. Celestia suspected both delegations would be far more amenable to compromise now that they were free from the expectant eyes of their respective constituents...

Celestia took a moment to examine the delegations, both the Iron Bloods and the Imperials. The former was mostly comprised of merchants and a few sympathetic lower ranking officers, many of whom wore lapel pins depicting two black swords crossed over one another. It was headed, fittingly enough, by the titular 'Adler von Eisenblut'. The Imperial delegation, being lead by Ambassador Flaumfeder, was comprised primarily by Senior Officers of the Imperial Military High Command. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Celestia wordlessly suppressed the urge to scream, as once again the discussion was devolving into a chorus of angry shouts.

"Our people are starving while you decadent pigs wallow in the filth of your own corruption!" Roared Oberst Eisenblut, obviously having had enough of the deadlock on the current topic. "We would be better off trading with the Equestrians on our own! We've sufficient ships!"

Eisenblut was far more handsome in person, the presence of the black leather eye patch was compounded by his youth and passionate care for his people, which endeared him greatly to Celestia. That endearment was undermined by his regular fits of temper and propensity for fiery rhetoric. Celestia supposed he had sufficient cause to be upset... While his colorful declaration might have been exaggerated, neither side could deny the food shortages and rampant inflation racking the Northern Griffon Provinces.

"Yes, that's the solution isn't it?! We can seize the ships that rightfully belong to the people of the Northern Coalition!" The Oberst declared forcefully, actually rising from his seat and leaning on the table with a fire in his eyes. Ambassador Flaumfeder bristled at that and rose from his seat as well, both men looking as if they were preparing to leap across the table and physically attack one another.

"You cannot be serious, those ships are the property of the Imperial Trading Company!" Flaumfeder rebutted emphatically, and it was then that Celestia obtusely cleared her throat. Sensing that he had perhaps overstepped even Celestia's patience, the Ambassador quietly cleared his throat and awkwardly both men returned to their seats.

"Oberst Eisenblut has a point, Ambassador." Celestia stated evenly, eying Eisenblut with the intent of warning him that he should not capitalize on that statement. He remained silent, receiving her meaning clearly. "I'm sure you agree that starvation of any sort should be avoided wherever possible..." Flaumfeder responded with only the faintest of nods, lacing his fingers together on the table, still glaring at Eisenblut. "It seems the Southern Provinces are more intrigued by making use of their gold deposits, why not allow the North to seek separate agreements for its iron? So what if the ships are owned by this 'Imperial Trading Company'?" Griffon trade agreements could be weird, as they changed their policies so frequently it was hard to keep track of all the companies involved.

"The Imperial Trading Company is the sole organization authorized at present to deal with foreign powers, but that isn't my concern." Flaumfeder patiently explained, not once removing his gaze from the Oberst. "As you have mentioned, we are using our Gold deposits, but to do so we need the foundries and refining facilities controlled by these..." He stopped himself, visibly restraining his anger. "People." He looked about the rest of the Iron Blood delegation. "That is why we've reduced our iron output, there simply aren't enough facilities to accommodate both industries. Those ships he desires to use carry the ore to be processed, and then the refined gold back to the Capital. We've drawn considerable credit from that gold, your highness. If it stops flowing, even briefly, we will be unable to pay our debts." Celestia nodded quietly in understanding, her eyes turning back to Eisenblut.

"If you want to get out of the hole, you must first stop digging!" The Oberst seethed gruffly, leaning back in his own plush seat. "They would not have so many debts if they ceased spending on unsustainable projects and programs! Many of their public works would be fine, even welcome, if they actually had the money to pay for them! Had our economy remained sturdy as it was I've no doubt they would be completed and paying for themselves, but at present...?" He shook his head. "The Ambassador also seems to forget that a foreign cargo ship is just as capable of hauling iron as one belonging to the ITC... Albeit, without the customary 'kickback' to members of the ITC's board." Flaumfeder's face reddened, but Celestia held up her hand.

"The time has come for us to dispense with this bickering back and forth." She stated simply, resting her hands in her lap, her wings ruffling in obvious annoyance. "You both make valid points, but I've heard enough, and further arguing will not solve the problem... We're here because a Civil War in the Griffon Empire would be a disaster for all those involved." She turned her eyes to the Iron Bloods. "There's already a food shortage in the North, how will a war alleviate that?" The woman looked next to the Imperial delegation. "How will the Empire draw further credit from its Gold reserves if the North refuses to process the ore? How will you pay your debts?" The Princess looked them all in the eyes, allowing the silence to reign for a moment, until it was clear all of them understood the gravity of what she'd said.

"The simple answer is that there are no solutions, none that are satisfactory to everyone at any rate." Celestia steepled her fingers, her voice softening. "Equestria is preparing to undertake the construction of a Trans-National Highway, a project that will require a great amount of steel. Our domestic production is sufficient for our current needs, but not to also support such an undertaking in earnest. However..." She temporized. "Our ability to process raw iron is far greater than that of the Northern Provinces, all we require is the raw ore." That was actually a bit of a lie, there was sufficient domestic steel production to meet the demands of the Highway project and their industrial needs, but only just... "At present we cannot trade food for iron ore directly, as I am sure Oberst Eisenblut would prefer, but we can mediate an agreement between the Northern Provinces and Ornithia, who has more than ample supply."

"In return for food from Ornithia and Gold from Equestria, the Empire will grant the Northern Provinces greater autonomy in matters of trade, free from the restrictions of the ITC. The Northern Provinces in turn will lessen their rhetoric towards secession, and all parties will commit to de-escalating tensions first and foremost." Celestia concluded smoothly, watching the delegates as the gears turned in their heads. Most seemed accepting of the proposition, but she could see that Eisenblut and Flaumfeder were still unsure. "Remember, your people are looking to both of you to pull them out of this mess, there is more at stake here than personal pride..." She added, as a mother might chide her children... Given the vast age difference between her and those in the room, that was perhaps a bit too accurate. Visibly chastened by Celestia's words, Eisenblut and Flaumfeder both finally nodded.

"Very well..." The Oberst muttered, eyes cast to the floor, before he abruptly stood and offered his hand to Flaumfeder. "For the good of our people." He added firmly, the Ambassador rose as well and cast an apologetic look to Celestia, then hesitantly shook Eisenblut's hand.

Celestia allowed a smile of satisfaction to cross her lips, though she knew that her work was far from over. The particulars of the treaty still needed to be drawn up, but that was a task for the legal minds of the Equestrian Foreign Ministry to handle. Undoubtedly there'd be more last minute haggling and negotiating, but at least for now the heightened tensions between North and South seemed to be on the ebb.

The meeting concluded perhaps an hour later, once she'd managed to work a little more 'damage control', building the working relationship between Eisenblut and the Ambassador. Just another means of ensuring that the peace lasted long enough for the treaty to be signed and ratified. The Ornithians had recently been pushing Equestria to purchase more of their food surplus, given the ongoing ecological clean up, but Equestrian stores were holding.

Celestia had a great deal of confidence Ornithia would gladly sell to the Griffons' Northern Provinces, as they lacked the technological capacity to produce processed and canned food stuffs on a wide scale. Thus, any food they didn't sell they would eventually have to be discarded, and no one liked throwing away money. Secure in the knowledge that she'd restored at least a modicum of stability to her eastern neighbors across the sea, Celestia bid the delegations farewell and departed to resume her normal daily duties. There was more time in her schedule over the past few days than there had been in recent months... The reason for which brought her no joy. Typically she set aside a few hours to check in on her niece, but Orzel was well on her way to Amberjack Island by now.

It was a shame the girl couldn't have been present for the negotiations that Celestia had just completed, she might've learned something about deal brokering. Maybe, Celestia hoped, the girl might even have come to see 'Soft Power' was at least just as important as 'Hard Power'... The woman still held out hope that the girl might come around to a kinder, gentler, approach to foreign policy... Between her weekly visits to Doctor Scratch, her twice weekly trips to her temple, and Celestia and Luna's own guidance, they'd made a lot of progress on that front. Still, Celestia doubted her niece would budge further than 'both types of power have their place'.

The Princess could only imagine the frightful progress that could be made if Orzel turned her attention to peacemaking rather than gunsmithing... Of course, she bore some of the responsibility on that front, or... Rather a lot of it, in hindsight. They were getting exactly what they wanted, guns and technology to fight the Changelings. The jury was out as to whether that decision would be their salvation, or merely a waste of potential...

Walking towards the Eastern portion of the castle, Celestia cast a look out a nearby window at the lonely Eastern Watch Tower. With its roof covered in snow, the stoney structure briefly conjured memories of her years in the Castle of the Two Sisters... Times had been no less trying then, but the scope of the crises tended to be much more limited. Now she was negotiating treaties based on other treaties that had to be established, all to maintain an ever increasingly complicated status quo. Yet that status quo couldn't remain for much longer... The amount of change spurred by recent events was evidence enough of that.

Celestia stopped before the window, staring now at the dead and snow covered greenery of the gardens. So similar to their western counterpart, where just one of those changes had taken place...

"Observos' ripple theory may be proven by that alone." Celestia mused idly, clasping her hands behind her back. She referred to the theory posited by Piercing Gaze, in his former life, that a single large event would at first create tremendous rippling events, but those ripples would gradually dissipate with time, and world events would thus return more or less to their normal occurrences afterwards. Luna's return might have been the first great disturbance, as the world had been a far more stable place prior to her return... Celestia didn't blame her Sister in the slightest. "Then again, perhaps Miss Dash's Sonic Rainboom was the actual event?"

The woman shook her head, it was useless to focus on those particular imponderables, and she would drive herself mad pondering the 'what ifs' beyond her control. Speaking of things beyond her control, Celestia became acutely aware of a muffled magic chime. Offering her palm to the side, she saw a slightly translucent vision of her sister flicker into being. Not nearly as crisp an image as an Arcane Beacon would've made her, but it would at least suffice. Luna's features were understandably worried, given the nature of the day, and Celestia opted to pause and hear what the woman had to say before anything else.

"Orzel is on her way..." Luna began, pacing back in forth in what Celestia assumed was the MSC. "We should have chosen a more southerly depot... The weather was less than ideal, her aeroplane almost failed to lift off from the ocean." Luna sounded furious at the implications of what that would mean, and Celestia cringed... Both at the news of her niece's near miss with fate, and because she knew that Luna would blame herself for even allowing such a thing to potentially happen. "The aircraft has signaled that they will complete its passage over the Western Unknown in a few minutes, and that all seems calm, but..." The woman growled in frustration, pounding on a table that Celestia couldn't see in the hologram. "Blast those wretched meta-morphs! She should not be forced from her home, again! What if her 'inner light' fades in my absence? What if the aircraft falls from the sky!?"

"She has been imprinted upon by you long enough, and is far enough along in her adolescence, that the former is not a concern..." Celestia assured, for what felt like the thousandth time. Then again, it had been assumed that conditions around Unicorn Point would be better than was obviously the case that morning.

In that respect Luna's fears weren't unfounded, but Orzel wasn't being subjected to the trauma of being orphaned again. It was more the opposite, as the girl was getting to spend the foreseeable future lounging in the relative comfort of an island paradise... Well, when she wasn't working on her new rifle.

"As for the latter concern..." Celestia continued. "She has her 'Fantom' broom, does she not? Should something occur with the plane, she could surely escape to safety aboard that. Was that not the plan to begin with?" Luna's features softened, and reluctantly she nodded. Celestia got the feeling there was more to it than what Luna had already explained.

"I informed her of the true reason for her need to depart." The woman admitted, and Celestia cast her eyes about the hallway out of instinct. She was alone, as far as she could tell, but Changelings were crafty creatures. Using her other hand, the Princess surrounded herself with a bubble that would ward sound from passing beyond. "She was... Incensed." Luna continued once the spell was in place. "More upset than I have ever seen her, though she hid it well... I would not have known the full extent if not for her..." The woman trailed off. "She nearly underwent a full transformation, Celestia... Her fury was so great that she could not mentally restrain her body's response, I had to administer a mild arcane sedative." Luna shook her head. "She thought that was part of the reason I was sending her away." Celestia frowned at that, resuming her walk, the sound proof bubble and hologram hovering along with her.

"I still remain uncertain telling her was a good idea, but I suppose with her rampant imagination..." The elder Princess temporized, looking ahead, down the long and lonely hallway. "Even so, that near-transformation should assuage your earlier concerns. It would not be possible for her to do so if her arcane signature were still tied in any way to yours." Luna gave a grudging nod, her features still harsh and worried. "You should be proud of yourself, Luna." Celestia said honestly, though it did little to visibly lighten Luna's mood. The Older sister paused briefly, clasping her hand behind her back. "Perhaps allowing her to visit Amberjack Island on her own will help build upon the foundation we've both helped to foster." Her sister chuckled softly at that, as apparently that was enough to dissipate some of her stress.

"I sincerely hope she does not become too influenced by her time upon Amberjack Island." Honestly stated Luna, her hologram briefly flickering as she apparently took a seat on the other end of the call. "The sailors of the South Lunar Fleet are an... Unusual sort." Celestia rolled her eyes at the understatement.

The South Lunar Fleet was seen by many to be the absolute lowest prestige posting in the Navy. Short of being assigned to Equestria's South Pole Station, there was no less coveted place to be. The SLF was where officers with dead-end careers toiled away until retirement. Those that didn't sit behind desks commanded crews comprised of the worst troublemakers or underachievers in the Navy. These men and women were crammed aboard ships that, in many cases, were older than the people serving aboard them. Orzel herself had threatened many officers that were obstructing the completion of ESS Sokol with virtual banishment to the very place she would now reside... The irony was still fresh to Celestia.

"Knowing her, she'll be too interested in finally getting a chance to focus her time solely on her inventions." Celestia offered, passing a pair of guards standing near the entrance to another hallway. They snapped to attention, as always, but otherwise said nothing. "I wouldn't be surprised if, by the time she returns, she hasn't designed a 'ray-gun' like in those science fiction novel's she's always going on about." Luna smiled briefly, but it rapidly faded, and Celestia immediately felt like a heel. "I meant because she's an adept thinker, not because she would be away long..." Her sister didn't seem reassured. "We'll deal with the Changelings soon enough..."

Celestia didn't add that they'd likely have to move Orzel again if the threat hadn't been dealt with as quickly as possible. Her mind briefly conjured an image of a chess board in the closing moves of a losing game, with Orzel taking the place of the 'King' piece. The Changelings were constantly maneuvering to try and capture the piece, all while Celestia and Luna were moving Orzel about... If only to prolong defeat by one more turn. Of course, the entire situation was far more complex than that, as reality had far less restrictions than a chess board, but the futility of that mental image struck the Princess to her core.

Her earlier thoughts of the myriad of recent happenings, and the rippling waves of chaotic events, surged back to the forefront. Would her niece be reduced to little more than a permanent 'designated survivor', doomed for her entire life to roam the globe so that 'the bad guys' wouldn't get all the Princesses at once? Once the Changelings were dealt with, what was to keep another threat from emerging? What would be the next thing to force that young, bright, and now painfully lonely girl to hide again and again, only so that she might keep up the fight if the worst came to pass...? Was it her destiny to inherit whatever calamity might arise with such terrible ferocity it would render Celestia and all other members of the Crown powerless?

Wasn't that the real reason they'd made Orzel a Princess in the first place...? To shore up the line of succession, to take all the eggs out of the same basket? Had Celestia's niece been reduced to little more than a glorified chess piece...? A Pawn, in King's clothing... What sort of life would that be? One perhaps just as regimented and spirit crushing as that which the Noble Party might've inflicted upon Orzel, Celestia suspected. Dutifully hiding and remaining safe, as Celestia knew her niece would do... Orzel was very much aligned with Equestria, but the Szafirian tenets of 'Duty to one's State' still ran deep, and in the girl's view her duty demanded no less than total sacrifice of her well being for the sake of her subjects...

Equestria, meanwhile, would plod onwards as before, their new Princess fading in their memories. She wouldn't be forgotten, the Black Crowns certainly would remember, but that memory would gradually grow distorted with time. Orzel the Princess would live on in the shadows, waiting to lead a fight that hopefully never came, but Orzel the person would shrivel into a hollow and empty shell... At least as Celestia and Luna knew her. No more 'missing' garden tools, or a constant need to expand the Castle's library... No lingering odor of drying model glue or machine oil... Less than a year ago Celestia had no interest in such things, yet now she couldn't imagine the castle without them. This was the danger of chasing the nimble butterflies of imponderable thought, and Celestia had to will herself away from those tendencies at once.

"No..." Celestia declared softly, her mind returning to the present, to her sister's hologram. "She may not be able to return by Spring." She admitted, setting her jaw. Luna's expression was stoic, at least on the surface, but Celestia could see that her sister had just run a similar gauntlet of thoughts to her own. "It may take months, it may take years, but once this particularly insidious threat is at an end, she will return to us, Luna..." Celestia swore darkly, with a voice she'd not heard from herself since a dreadful night, a thousand years before...

Pharynx stood silently before the map of Equestria, brow furrowed deeply in thought. It was a sizable construct of the finest craftsmen in the hive, dominating the center of his new quarters, chambers considered more than fitting for a General. The Queen had seen fit to promote him, again, primarily because he assumed she didn't know how promotions worked. This time he'd been afforded the rank of 'Supreme High General of all the Swarms', a rank Chrysalis had just made up, following a successful stealth incursion beyond the Equestrian border... It had primarily been to ensure that that the enemy wasn't massing a larger force, and consisted of only a small squad of his best infiltrators.

Astonishingly, despite the obvious increase in patrols, Equestria's inland settlements seemed blissfully unaware of the danger posed by the Changelings. They were quite vigilant for Dragon Raiders, including advanced scouts, but that was only natural... Pharynx doubted that their ignorance of the Changelings would remain the case for long, and as soon as that happened it would very well be impossible to conduct reconnaissance directly along the border. The excursion had also revealed that Equestria's economic power had recently been shaken by an ecological disaster, though it was unfortunately well on its way to recover, short of another major disaster...

If only the Hive had enough warriors to launch an appreciable assault, something more than a raid but less than an invasion, just enough to stir them up... He might've been able to trigger a recession, perhaps even a complete economic collapse. What had stayed his hand most pressingly was that such a strike would likely galvanize Equestrian resolve... Then they would flock to their factories in droves, and bury the Hive's armies beneath their tremendous reserves of manpower and industrial capacity. He had witnessed much of their country for himself, during his days as an Deep Infiltration Scout, before Queen Tempo had seen his potential as an officer.

Factories as large as the hive, powerful steel mills, backed by fleets of automobiles, flying machines, and railways to make it all move. If his Queen were to seize control of Equestria, it would mean more than just acquiring a source of Love, it would change the lives of every Changeling in his hive as never before... His people would have access to the comforts of the industrial age, something completely unheard of in any of the other Hives. His army would be the most powerful of all, powerful enough to perhaps even force the other Hives to submit to his- Er, Chrysalis' glorious rule!

The General shook his head, he couldn't allow his ambitions to blind him... It was fun to dream, but there was a very real danger in the plan he was drafting at the behest of his Queen. Rubbing his chin, Pharynx examined the map in greater detail. As it stood, his best chance at defeating the Equestrians was still to decapitate their command structure. That meant taking Canterlot, capturing or otherwise incapacitating their Royal Family, and using them as leverage to force the rest of Equestria to submit...

It sounded simple, and that would be good enough for Queen Chrysalis, but Pharynx knew better. There were so many considerations to take into account, and it was only by virtue of time that he felt comfortable even contemplating such an operation. Most pressing was the need to deploy troops and supplies nearly twelve-hundred miles inland. Pharynx hoped to use the Everfree Forest as a staging area, it was large and generally went unexplored... Not without good reason, but the Swarm could handle any natural predators that might menace it, provided they had sufficient numbers.

Troops were easy enough to move on their own, they could disguise themselves as locals and walk more or less unimpeded once they cleared the border provinces. He'd have to move them in groups of a couple hundred, spread out from various border settlements. It'd take months to put them in place, of course, and they couldn't very well march about in full combat kit. His chief concern, the concern of any competent professional General, wasn't the where and when of his plan... It was the how.

Conservative estimates dictated that he'd need a force of approximately fifty thousand troops to rest Canterlot from Equestrian hands and withstand the counter attack that was bound to come. That was fifty thousand swords, rifle muskets, uniforms, armor sets, helmets, and other essentials... A hundred thousand boots, at least, and those numbers only reflected the supplies needed to initially equip a force. He could scarcely imagine just how they would keep such an army fed, or deliver replacement equipment and munitions.

"I should never have opened my big mouth..." Pharynx mumbled uncharacteristically, pausing to think over his plan a bit more carefully. Upon reflection, Pharynx realized that he'd never be able to deploy his entire force into the Everfree one piece at a time. To do so invited the Equestrian's to possibly detect his force, then martial their considerably better trained and equipped forces to destroy his armies piece by tiny piece. Even if he managed to maintain operational security, supplying those troops would be another problem entirely, as they'd need every iota of supplies snuck towards them. No... That wouldn't do at all.

His attention settled on a feature dubbed 'Ghastly Gorge'. After a few moments rumination, a smile creased his sharp features, and he briefly pondered the emotion he felt in that instant... Satisfaction. Hardly enough to sustain himself, but a delectable morsel nonetheless. Ghastly Gorge surrounded a winding river that extended from as far south as the Southern Dragonlands, through the Macintosh Range, all the way up to heart of the Everfree Forest, and even joined a larger river that ran through the centrally located railway hub of Ponyville. One rail line in particular also happened to extend beyond the Macintosh Range, first through the Equestrian outpost of Appleloosa. As it happened, that same railway had a bridge that crossed Ghastly Gorge.

Pharynx couldn't effectively sneak his forces over land, but he could deploy a vanguard using the river. Perhaps they could fashion rafts from timbers taken in the Macintosh Range? That way, he could perhaps even deploy a small battery of field guns... The General shook his head, he was getting too far ahead of himself. The vanguard could move up river and fortify a position within the Everfree, then wait there until the initial assault on Canterlot. Then it would be a matter of securing the railway bridge over the gorge and seizing Appleloosa. The bridge would be easy, but Appleloosa...? That was where the real problems arose. It was one Equestria's southernmost border towns, right on the front lines in the ongoing fight against the Dragon Raiders.

By necessity of survival, that required it to be perhaps the most heavily armed settlement in Equestria, with an estimated five firearms for every adult civilian, many of whom were members of the 'Lone Star Homeguard' militia... Considering the size, training, and equipment status of that organization, it was more akin to many of the 'Freikorps' that were gaining popularity in West Parthenia of late. That didn't even take into account law enforcement, Lone Star Rangers, and the Territorial Garrison. Put bluntly, Appleloosa was a veritable fortress, filled with Equestrian citizens of the most ornery sort. Pioneers. They wouldn't yield their land without a fight, and not the sort of fight a professional army like Pharynx's was adept at facing. He'd seen it dozens of times, they fought just as dirty and just as brutally as the dragons that assailed them regularly.

Briefly Pharynx considered a siege, but the Appleloosans would need only wait a few days before the Equestrians sent a relief force. He was getting too caught up in the smaller details, for now he needed to focus on the macro picture, then he could work out the smaller workings. Assuming Pharynx could bring both Appleloosa and the gorge thoroughly under Changeling control, they could deploy the bulk of the invading army by railway, hopefully plowing through to Ponyville before the Equestrians could mount a response.

Using the two settlements as supply depots, both for weapons and to acquire living 'provisions', the vanguard's decapitation strike on Canterlot would be more likely to succeed. He'd need to martial a token force to the east, militia mostly, to parade about in full view of the Equestrian Rangers... Distract them from the push along the river. The war wouldn't be one great battle, over in a single day, but defeating the Equestrians within a few weeks would have the same effect... Any longer than that, and the enemy would easily repel his force, resulting in a costly and bloody withdrawal. The man shook his head once more, not wanting to risk sounding like a defeatist.

He had two years to come up with a solution for the Appleloosa concern, plenty of time to work out its weaknesses and ways to exploit them. Perhaps the boys in Infiltration could come up with something? Still, Pharynx was reminded of the old Griffon adage that 'No plan survives its first encounter with the enemy', or something to that effect. The strategy he proposed was bold, unexpected, and relied entirely on complete and total surprise. He had no doubt such a thing was possible given the natural gifts of his race, and aside from Appleloosa there was just one problem he wasn't sure he could overcome... A problem invariably closer to home.

That problem was, unsurprisingly, Queen Chrysalis herself. Yes, the very woman that had ordered the plan's creation in the first place. Pharynx had no illusions about her sanity or fitness to rule, even the blindest of nymphs could see she wasn't 'playing with a full deck', to use a Lone Star turn of phrase. Already he could foresee how his meeting with her would go, and in turn gave himself a headache just thinking about it.

Pharynx would bring his plan to the Queen, she would undoubtedly approve, and then the interference would begin. He'd want to send spies to Canterlot to sew confusion, perhaps infiltrate the palace staff, and she'd twist that into some absurd notion... Perhaps she'd order him to do something stupid, like kidnap and replace a member of the Royal family? Pharynx barked a genuine laugh at the thought, surely even she wasn't that mad. In that same vein, if she was that insane, he felt without a doubt the Queen would demand that she be the one to take the kidnapped Princess's place!

The General was leaning heavily on the table now, laughing his guts out, imagining what Chrysalis might look like in one of Celestia's flowing gowns, or the more alluring Gothic attire of Princess Luna. His sides nearly shot into orbit, and he struggled to catch his breath, at the thought of the ill tempered and unbelievably crazy witch prancing about as Mi Amore Cadenza, Princess of Love! Perhaps, given her temperament and attitude, she could pass for Blueblood? As if the Equestrians would ever fall for such a trick. They couldn't be that foolish, could they? Reigning in his brief fit of mirth, Pharynx straightened and cleared his throat.

Much as he disliked the woman that had replaced the Hive's beloved Queen Tempo, the task with which she'd charged Pharynx was sound enough. It was far easier, far more efficient, to just take the nourishing love of the Equestrians by force. Not only would a conquest of such a large subservient population secure a virtually limitless food source, the fighting would undoubtedly be costly... Decreasing the population surplus that had caused the food shortage in the first place. Any remaining glint of amusement immediately faded, and a silent sensation of shame rocked his body. Queen Tempo had told him of an Equestrian concept, one that seemed antithetical to Changeling ideals, and yet the notion had stuck. The word was 'Honor', far different from the Changeling version of the same word. Pharynx had come to associate it closely with 'Duty', and he prized his honor highly...

His duty was to the Hive, to his Changeling brothers and sisters... Chrysalis could afford to disregard her people however she chose, that was her right as Queen. To Pharynx, however, it was a grave dishonor to see them as disposable. They performed their duties with great loyalty, looking to him for guidance. A General couldn't be so callous with the lives of his soldiers, not if he wanted to keep his Army for very long. They were his soldiers, after all, and would only fight for so long under threat of reprisal... If he could build their resolve, build their trust just as Queen Tempo had, treat them as his own flesh and blood... They would follow him into the very pits of Tartarus and back.

"Are you alright?" A familiar, if slightly reedy, voice drew Pharynx from his inner thoughts, and his eyes darted immediately to the doorway leading into his dimly lit stone chamber. The scowl that had started to crease his features softened, albeit slightly, when he laid eyes upon his younger brother. Thorax was smaller than most Changelings, and Queen Tempo had always urged Pharynx to look out for the little guy. They weren't her 'children', per se, but Tempo had always made it a point to involve herself in the lives of all her promising subjects as a sort of 'teacher'... There was a Queen that, if she still lived, might have found a means to alleviate the food shortage without invading Equestria. If only they could be so lucky. "I thought I heard you coughing up a lung a few moments ago." The slightly diminutive, but otherwise average, looking fellow approached the map table, examining it with passing curiosity.

"No, I was just..." Pharynx began, then ultimately trailed off. Thorax was one of the few people he trusted, and the only one he knew would share the humor he found in an arrogant Queen Chrysalis' attempting to pass herself off as a 'selfless Princess of virtue'. Even so, his little brother was just as likely to chastise him for belittling the Queen in such a way. Not out of any sort of loyalty to Chrysalis, more in memory of Tempo... Thorax had always been a 'Queen's pet', to paraphrase an Equestrian saying. "Never mind... I'm fine, Thorax." He finally declared dismissively. "What are you doing here? How did you even enter the Underhive?"

"How did you even enter the Underhive?" Thorax repeated in an alarmingly accurate facsimile of Pharynx's voice, his own features morphing and shifting to take the General's own... Albeit, Thorax's version was shorter. "I'm General Pharynx, and this is my favorite chamber in the Underhive!" He added with a slight smirk before dropping his disguise and the false voice.

Normally, Changelings could fool one another just as effectively as they could Equestrians or other races, but the guards at the gates of the Underhive were far more attuned to notice such things. Even so, Thorax was Pharynx's brother, and there was enough of a natural resemblance that the two could more or less swap places and hardly anyone would notice... With the exception of Queen Tempo, of course. She'd seen through that trick almost instantly.

"Mother's been exceptionally bitter that we haven't been moved to better quarters..." Thorax explained tiredly, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with obvious frustration. "She thinks she's entitled to noble treatment, now that her son has become 'Supreme High General', she seems to think that rank applies to her as well." That figured... The annoyance was palpable in every syllable. "I couldn't stand her nagging any longer, so I thought I'd come pop my head in and bother my brother, for old time's sake." Pharynx nodded in understanding, emitting a single dry chuckle of mirth.

"She must be even more insufferable than I remember, if she finally managed to drive you away." The General concluded, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You have my apologies on that front." His brother waved dismissively, casting his eyes back to the map. "Much as it galls me, I could arrange for the two of you to find quarters in the Underhive."

All of their siblings had left the nest as soon as they were able, primarily to get away from their Mother. Thorax, being the youngest son, had remained behind to care for the hag in her advancing age. She berated him, tormented him, even threw things at him... Yet he stayed behind, because that was his duty to the state, for which he endured the dishonor of being exempted him from Military Service. The miserable shrew must've been in peak form if she'd finally driven Thorax away, even temporarily, as Pharynx suspected to be the case.

"No... No, I doubt if she could even fit through the door at this point." Thorax countered, clasping his hands behind his back as he strode along the edges of the map. Pharynx could see, now that the young man was closer, that his brother's typically average eyes had taken a slightly red appearance.

A towering rage sparked to life in Pharynx's gut, realizing that whatever Mother had said, it had been enough to bring his younger brother to tears. Thorax was sensitive, almost shamefully so, but he had the patience and stoicism of a Queen's Guard. Pharynx suspected Thorax's refusal of better accommodations was his way of exacting some sort of retribution, or had the old breeding sow actually become so gargantuanly over weight that she could no longer fit through the door? How could that be? The food crisis had seen the entire Hive placed on rations. He realized then that Thorax seemed much thinner than he should've been, and the burgeoning anger bloomed into a maelstrom of hatred he could scarcely control.

"Thorax." Pharynx grated as gently as he could. "Are you feeding well?" He already knew the answer, but Thorax's nearly imperceptible shake of the head confirmed it. "Unacceptable!" Pharynx boomed, his voice reverberating through the chamber like a thundering cannonade.

The exemption from Military Service, given to Thorax as caretaker of an aged 'Hive Mother', was one of the most coveted titles in all the Hive. Those that held it usually ate far better than their fellows, even if they were viewed as shirking their duties to the rest of the hive. They were generally despised as a result, yet here Thorax was... Doing his duty, his duty to a woman that didn't deserve his loyalty, enduring a great dishonor, and yet unable to enjoy the slight modicum of luxury that duty provided?! All the while, Pharynx was plotting the destruction of an entire nation in order to feed his people, while his wretched 'Mother' gorged herself with not only her own rations but the rations of her most loyal of sons!?

"Absolutely unacceptable!" The General repeated, struggling to reign in his fury. There were few things that could truly set him off, and mistreating any of his siblings topped that list. He'd been hauled before Queen Tempo more than two dozen times as a nymph for disciplinary action, not for starting fights, rather because he finished them. "It cannot be allowed to stand!" His face went virtually purple with anger.

"Brother! Stop yelling! Please!" Thorax pleaded, visibly cringing away from Pharynx, and for the briefest of moments the General nearly lost control of himself. He didn't see his brother before him, but just any other member of their hive, cowering away in fear... Were it not Thorax, the General would have lashed out at such a shameful display... But it was Thorax... His younger brother... His closest friend. The rage that had burned through every restraint and mental control Pharynx possessed then evaporated, leaving none but embers, as he tentatively patted his kinsman on the shoulder. Another bolt of shame ran through him as the younger man shrunk away... Just as their Mother had railed and shrieked, so too had Pharynx, and the effect had been the same on poor Thorax...

"Forgive me, Brother..." Pharynx managed, once more straightening his posture, adjusting the officers tunic that was now ruffled about his torso. "I... Am truly sorry." He muttered, pursing his lips while Thorax managed to regain his own composure. "I have much on my mind, and to hear Mother's behavior was simply too much. Even so, that is no excuse..." His eyes settled upon the map again, a new determination burning in his chest... The food shortage had to end, no matter the cost, for the sake of his brother if nothing else. Even so, he could not focus on the task at hand and worry for Thorax's well being at the same time. "I can release you from your duty to Mother, if you so desire... You will be conscripted, of course, but I suspect you will be better fed than you are now." He nodded more resolutely. "I am in need of what the Prench call an aide-de-camp, a role I will bestow upon only a trusted confidant."

Thorax stared at him, pausing to consider the offer. As far as Pharynx was concerned, his brother had performed his duties beyond what was demanded of him. Thus, despite the fact that their Mother still lived, his duty was complete. Would Thorax see things the same way? Pharynx doubted it, but there was little more he could do. Mother could rot, for all he cared... His duty remained with his Hive... With his Brother. To the General's surprise, and admitted relief, Thorax suddenly entered a deep and respectful bow. In a resolute tone, one Pharynx was unaccustomed to hearing from the typically submissive man, his brother's voice rang out.

"Thank you, my General!" Thorax declared, before straightening to his full height, relief evident upon his otherwise average features. "How may I begin...?"

Pharynx hummed quietly, there wasn't any reason his brother couldn't start work immediately... Besides, Pharynx wanted to see what he had to work with, if he was going to mold his brother to a more martial life style. So, patiently and as elaborately as he could, the General outlined his plan upon the map, pausing occasionally to ensure that Thorax was following along. Pharynx found that his brother had an uncanny knack for logistics, and understood well that leading by example was of incredible importance... Perhaps Queen Tempo had been grooming him for a military posting as well? Pharynx set that aside for the moment, and concluded his explanation of the plan with a simple question... Was there anything he'd missed?

"What if the Princesses are not all in Canterlot when the attack commences? If even one escapes, or is not present at the time of the assault, will they not lead the Equestrian response?" Thorax responded studiously, and Pharynx nodded his head at the observation, he hadn't taken that into account. He had based his notions on the assumption that, like most Changeling Queens, the Equestrian leaders wouldn't ever leave the comfort of their palace. "It is not out of the realm of possibility, even now there is rumor that Princess Luna is undergoing an inspection tour of the Equestrian's Naval facilities."

"They seem to realize that something is amiss beyond their reach." Pharynx added, referencing the daily reported Ranger patrols north of and along the Equestrian border. "Unlike us, their authority is spread among more than one head of state. Perhaps to prevent such a thing as we plan from ever taking place..."

The man rubbed his chin while Thorax further examined the map, tracing his finger down the river through the Macintosh Range, down to the Southern Dragonlands. They were scarcely inhabited at present outside the few permanent settlements set up there, and would likely remain so for the next two years, when the next Great Migration was set to begin... Typically Changeling patrols still avoided that region regardless. No sense enraging even a few of the incredibly dangerous clans that lived there.

"Their supreme command structure is even further spread out now..." Thorax observed, lifting his finger from the map. "Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Cadence, Prince Blueblood, and most recently..." He tapped the word 'Dragonlands'. "Princess Orzel..." Pharynx raised an eyebrow at that, while he was aware of the girl, she wasn't considered much of a threat. After all, she was young, and hardly physically imposing... It was reported that she was shorter than Thorax, and by all accounts not very strong. Then again, Pharynx had read several reports on her odd... Habits. Those didn't fill him with confidence either.

"She is a Drake... A Drake from beyond this world, no less. As Luna's daughter, she may well share her Mother's martial inclinations. If I am not wrong, she has taken considerable interest in the development of Equestria's sea power?" Thorax expanded. That, like so many other pieces of intelligence, had been spread about the Hive by word of mouth. Thankfully Pharynx doubted the enemy could ever install spies to make use of that otherwise glaring security risk. "I am not saying she is a threat on her own, but as you said, if even one member of the Royal Family escapes..." He trailed off. "We know much about the others, but she remains illusive."

"She is virtually a recluse." Pharynx agreed, tucking his hands into his pocket. "The Hive's collective knowledge is well informed, but there are some facets that remain secret..." The General strolled to the other side of the map, glaring at the location marked 'Canterlot'. "From what our spies have gathered, she sequesters herself within the Eastern Tower, but departs regularly to visit a shuttered military facility outside of Ponyville, or to attend to some sort of 'religious business' in the city... The nature of what she is doing at the facility we have yet to discern." He shook his head. "The spies also report 'tasting' a deep sense of conflict and violent impulses." The General further admitted. "Our infiltrators have been unable to enter her chambers, as she keeps them secured with some sort of arcane locking mechanism. She is either paranoid, or they suspect our presence there..." Thorax chuckled faintly at that, earning a raised eyebrow from Pharynx.

"Is it truly paranoia if they are correct?" The younger, freshly minted aide-de-camp, asked. "I must admit, Brother, I know little about the affairs of war at present..." Thorax continued, and Pharynx was rather certain he sensed more to come. "That being said, would it not be easier to ask her ourselves?" Pharynx looked at him in confusion. "You said she attends religious ceremonies regularly, does she not? Perhaps sending infiltrators to her temple, posing as practitioners, might allow us some insight into how she thinks versus how we know the other members of the Crown?" Pharynx rounded on his brother, and Thorax looked about to shrink away, but stopped when he saw the pride in his General's eyes.

"An excellent idea..." Pharynx said, gripping his brother by the shoulders. "But risky... I shall have to consult the Queen first, if only to secure our safety... She thinks I do not fear failure, you know? That is not entirely true. If I fail of my own account, then I shall accept my fate, but if others fail in my name...?" Thorax looked at him questioningly, but after a few moments the understanding became clear. This new Queen was far different, after all, and failure would not be treated with kindness...