Within the basement staff quarters of a Canterlot patrician house, Empty Valour stirred as sunlight crept in. As much as she wished she could turn on her side and sleep off her tiredness, she had become accustomed to her mistress’ strict discipline. Before her changeling owner woke, Empty had to be up, dressed and ready with breakfast. Wasting time on five more minutes of sleep would always get her in trouble with mistress Formica.
She rolled out of bed and her hooves landed on the floor, immediately headed for the sink even as her eyes remaining shut. Opening the faucet, she splashed cold water in her face to help herself wake up. The face in the mirror looked just horrid. Though her physical exhaustion was less than how she felt inside, her green mane was all over the place, her features were unwashed, the expression in her pink eyes listless and numb, and on her horn was that damned inhibitor ring.
Empty gently touched the base of her unicorn horn. She had not been able to take off the restraint since she had been captured and made prisoner in the war years ago. As such, she hadn’t been able to perform even the most basic telekinesis spell. The ring having become such a permanent fixture that she normally didn’t even think about it anymore. She had become so used to living like an earth pony that being a unicorn had nearly lost meaning to her, as nothing differentiated her from one.
“An earth pony.” She said to herself as she rubbed her hoof along her horn.
Empty Valour wasn’t a racist towards the other two tribes, but she had found the earth ponies’ way of life to be backwards and stubborn. Unicorns defined themselves as problem solvers, using their magic to grant them precision and dexterity that hooves simply couldn’t match. The complex and vast mysteries of magic arcana were the field of study of her kind, offering infinite possibilities in unravelling the secrets of the universe. But whenever unicorns found themselves in majority earth pony villages, the common refrain when it came to traditions considered quintessentially earth ponish was always “no magic!”. As if the earth ponies’ own connection to the land, or pegasi flight and weather control were not magic.
Empty believed this was purely out of jealousy. A long standing dislike for unicorns who had historically functioned as rulers, intellectuals and craftsmen while the majority of earth ponies did manual labour with their hooves. With all the physical strain, exhaustion and calluses, no wonder they must have felt bitter. Meanwhile the unicorns spent their days expanding the breadth of knowledge, to bestow ponykind with new ideas and magical solutions. Which would then be flat out rejected with stubbornness when introduced to rural communities by seething earth ponies, who envied the comforts and safeties of city unicorns. After all, when had an earth pony ever made a contribution to science?
And yet now Empty did things the earth pony way. Not out of admiration for them, but only because her changeling masters felt safer with her magical abilities nullified. Unicorns no longer formed the upper strata of Equestrian society. All three tribes would now bow to the changeling master race. Not only did they posses active magic and flight like alicorns. But their society had been more communal than even earth ponies. And when it put its mind to conquering Equestria, the leaps in technological advancement had outpaced ponies by miles. Equestria had proven it had no answer to the tactics and weapons fielded by the great changeling Heer in the Great War. For all their magic prowess, the princesses and unicorn elite had been powerless to stop Queen Chrysalis from achieving total victory, and bending ponykind’s knees to see it grovel before her. They had taken everything from Empty. Her freedom, pride, country, morals and even racial magic. No wonder she woke up tired each day, living in a world where everything had gone wrong for her.
“Empty!” Came a shout from upstairs.
That was mistress Formica. Empty realized she had been losing track of time, staring in the mirror, and was far behind schedule! No wonder her owner was angry with her! Rushing, she squirmed into the maid uniform and brushed her mane with rapid strokes. She burst out the door and cantered up the stairs.
Fraulein Formica, kriminaldirektor of the Canterlot department of the occupational kriminalpolizei, was sitting on her bed as Empty Valour entered. A chamber robe was worn over a concealing nightgown. Her expression was one of displeasure.
“You are supposed to begin your chores before I’m even awake, and yet you have not even made yourself presentable! Are changelings to think that I’m not enforcing order in my own household? Do you want for the entire Hegemony to think that its direktor is unsuitable for the task of bringing law to Equestria?” She asked with an insistence that revealed the seriousness of her accusation.
Empty bowed her head in supplication. “No mein fraulein, that is not my intention. Please forgive my tardiness.”
Somehow, Formica would always know what was happening inside her home. Lateness was not something she tolerated. Empty was expected to know exactly when to come inside the mistress’ bedroom. Late enough that she was properly rested and yet early enough that her absence wasn’t an indication of being behind schedule. It was a delicate balance that Empty had mastered, only to slip up this morning.
“I don’t want excuses from you, Empty. I want you to realize this procrastination is not acceptable. Did you praise your queen yet, in your hurry?”
“I shall do so as soon as you grant me leave. Shall I draw a bath for you, fraulein?” Empty quickly moved on to a line of inquiry that actually addressed her job as servant rather than waste Formica’s time with more apologies.
“See that you do. I expect you will have breakfast prepared by the time I finish my bath.” Formica demanded.
It would be tight to complete all her tasks in that time. Empty rapidly set to work filling the tub with warm water as Formica waited impatiently in the next room. Once it was ready, she left her mistress to herself, taking a bath, while she laid out her uniform to dress herself once Formica was done. Empty headed downstairs, made sure to raise her hoof in salute to the ever obtrusive painting of Queen Chrysalis long enough that Formica would not complain of her disrespect towards the changeling nation, before setting the table and making breakfast. Only after she was done and Formica had come downstairs to eat did Empty find the time to finish brushing her mane, clean her teeth and wash away the evidence of restless sleep.
“By the way, my servant,” Formica began as Empty served coffee to her mistress “while you have not earned this, I am granting you a night of leave later today so you won’t interfere with my meeting with commissariat security. They will be guests in my home and it won’t do for a pony to eavesdrop on them.”
“I would never eavesdrop on my mistress’ conversations. I’m merely your housekeeper, it wouldn’t be proper to meddle in the affairs of my betters.” Empty had not only learned it was unwise, she genuinely felt safe under her changeling owner’s Hegemony.
Certainly safer than under any Equestrian or rebel jurisdiction. Empty feared that should they ever catch her, her short life would end with her dangling from the gallows. As a prisoner of war, she had done heinous, treasonous things to avoid abuse from the guards. But she did what she’d done to survive. Surely any of her countrymares could attest how being drained of love was a deeply traumatizing experience, and you would do anything to minimize the danger of being bent over a barrel and brutally sucked empty by the parasitic changeling overseers. Right? Then why did she feel like such a coward and a traitor? Her old self, High Valour, had been a decorated war hero of the Lunar Civil War. Hadn’t she earned a reprieve from captivity and sacrifice? Wasn’t she due for a quiet, humble retirement from fighting? Why did she have to feel guilt for huddling under Frau Formica’s skirt for protection against her fellow Equestrians, and the hate she felt from them?
“All the same, you can keep my secrets better when you don’t know them. Even if I trust you are obedient.” Formica finished her meal and drank her coffee. “Since you have been diligent in your cleaning duties, you should be able to finish before they arrive. And still have time to accompany me to have your measurements taken.”
“Fraulein?” Asked Empty, wondering what was so important that Formica would pull her away from her duties.
“Tomorrow night is a little soiree, held by a prominent Canterlot pony collaborator in celebration of Hegemonic pony-changeling cooperation. I could not possibly attend without my loyal maidservant to demonstrate the successes of our racial hierarchy. And that means you need to be well groomed and dressed. I cannot have you show up in that uniform like a slovenly tramp.” Her mistress sounded stern, and clearly demanding good conduct.
“I’ll try to be on my best behaviour, mein fraulein.” She promised.
“Were it just me, I would have ignored this sub-equine’s invitation. But I need to keep tabs on these lackeys of the Hegemony and this is an opportunity to do so. That means you’re in luck, and you get to wear a nice dress for once. Take care you don’t damage it, it is bound to cost more than your services have availed me, little pony.”
“Of course my lady.” This was shaping up to become an interesting week.
* * *
Canterlot’s shopping streets were home to many fashionable clothing stores, but the war had greatly diminished their business and forced many to close forever. Those that now tailored their business model to the demands of the changeling occupiers were the only ones to flourish. Empty and her mistress had found one such boutiques that promised an original selection for the new order in fashion.
The inside of the store was richly decorated, as could be expected of Canterlot properties. At a glance, the outfits sold here were impressive in design and material. Which made it odd to see only three other ponies. Two of them engaged in a debate that was deliberately kept at low volume. A third, the proprietor, approached them.
“Welcome to Polomare’s Patterns! Please peruse our fine selection, designed by only the very best dressmaker in all of Equestria!” The tall blue unicorn greeted them. “I am Sassy Saddles. How may I help-”
Something had seemingly irked one of the conversing ponies, and she hurriedly inserted herself into the exchange. Though as she caught sight of Formica, her frown disappeared quickly. She was a pink earth pony, with the smile of somepony who needed to borrow something permanently affixed to her face.
“How wonderful to see a representative of the Hegemony in my store! I am Suri Polomare, owner of this chain of fashion stores, and may I just say that it’s an honour to be doing business with your kind? Thanks to the governess of the Manehattan Protectorate, my brand has really taken off! How may I serve you today?” The mare seemed to focus entirely on Formica, disregarding Empty Valour along with her store manager.
“I am only here for my servant girl. I have an important social event I need to attend and require an evening gown for her that lets the guests know she reflects well on her owner.” Formica dismissed the ambitions of the collaborator earth pony to sell something to her directly.
“Oh, you must mean the party Lickspittle is hosting tomorrow. That’s part of the reason I’m in Canterlot, along with the acquisition of my new franchise. Networking is important if you wish to make it in my line of work, especially under our new queen.” Formica shared an exasperated look with Empty, who had to suppress her laughter. “Oh, but I can tell you don’t want to hear all that. You’re here for a dress. Rarity dear, can you come over for a second?”
The white unicorn now joined the other ponies. That finally put a face to the name. Empty Valour had been told by more enthusiastic soldiers their dress uniforms were all designed by Rarity. She might finally have a chance to thank the mare for all the cute stallions she managed to catch dressed up for leave.
“This is my design assistant. She will take your companion’s measurements. The dress will be ready by tomorrow for the night.” Suri assured her customer, who protested.
“I am not looking for a custom order, only something affordable in which she won’t look like such a pauper.”
“Oh don’t you worry about the price, money is not an issue. Consider it a gift from me, to one of my changeling friends. While I have you here, can we talk about my labour shortages? Governess Lilac has done a marvellous job finding employment for war criminals and terrorists in need of reformative work programs, and I was wondering-” Suri was leading Formica away from Empty, who was left with Rarity.
“I’ll be taking your measurements darling. And then we can discuss what style and colour your mistress wants that would fit with your appearance.” Rarity’s smile was so forced, Empty expected her jaws to cramp up.
Empty Valour was led aside to have her measurements taken. She could feel Rarity treat her very rough, lifting up a leg or straightening her posture with little mind for her discomfort. She wondered if this once famed tailor was taking out her frustrations with her reduced status out on her customers, or if she knew what Empty had done as a prisoner as well. An awful lot of ponies in Canterlot did, judging by the stares she received when in the company of Formica.
Just a few words. A mere sentence to the camp kommandant of Stalag 4 had secured her release from that hole. All she was expected to do afterwards was bury the bodies. The last ones she would have to dispose of for the bugs. The lifeless stares in their eyes, the twisted and contorted agony on their faces, the warmth of all but clinically dead bodies as she condemned them to the earth in their mass grave. She told herself that had she not done it, inevitably that would have been her fate. The guilt and shame of what was certainly treason was what she got instead. How could these ponies judge her?
“It- it’s not as bad you think.” She found herself speaking out loud.
“What is, darling?” Rarity sounded impatient more than surprised.
“Working for the changelings. I mean, Frau Formica is strict. But- but I deserve to be disciplined.”
“Frankly my dear, you sound like a frightened cur. If you will excuse my Griffisch.” Rarity answered.
“They were already dead, they only didn’t know it. Before or after.” Empty tried to excuse her deeds to this total stranger, but found no sympathy.
“I have no earthly idea what you are babbling about, dear. But if you are so content with your changeling chatelaine, I would advise you to stay with her, close.” That sounded like a threat. “All done. I can manage the rest of the design process by myself. Oh, and darling?”
Empty turned around to look her in the eye, only for Rarity to raise up her chin so she could look the other unicorn in the eye, seeing only contempt.
“Don’t speak to me of dignity again. You don’t know what humiliation is, because you have no pride. As far as I may have fallen, I did not forget the height of my career. And who it was that laid me low. So run back to your lady’s side.”
Empty Valour needed no further encouragement.
* * *
Empty’s night out had not gone as she had hoped. The lower rung dive she chose had been a favourite of hers before the changeling invasion, but she didn’t recognise the new owner. Her attempts to entice a visiting stallion for a single night of passion had lacked her past confidence. Even the beer had been so watered down, she couldn’t get drunk off of what little Formica had given her in allowance. The soldiers that used to come here weren’t there anymore, for reasons that should have been obvious.
Too late did Empty realize that the reason nopony wanted to have a conversation with her was because of the inhibitor ring affixed to her horn. Even if she had remembered it before going out, there was no question of if mistress Formica would have removed it for her. It served as a warning in public that she was either a unicorn criminal on probation for abusing magic, or the slave of a changeling. Neither was good for your public image. But more painful than the distrustful stares of other patrons was how easily it had slipped Empty Valour’s mind she’d gone out in public neutered. Being magicless had become normal to her. Physical labour her only function in life.
As she was trying to finish the last of her Buckweiser and leave, a couple of stallions approached her booth. Empty noticed only now how quiet the bar had gotten, with barely any patrons left inside. She also didn’t remember anypony playing pool, which made the cue held by the unicorn look suspicious.
“You wouldn’t happen to be a Stalag 4 survivor, would you?” The earth pony asked.
Empty considered lying, but knew it wasn’t going to make a difference. “Yeah, what’s it you?”
Facing the earth pony, she had taken her eyes off the pool cue, which the unicorn swung against the back of her head and knocking her to the ground. The blows started raining immediately after, as their hooves kicked at her frantically.
“Traitor bitch!” The unicorn shouted, voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll kill you for what you did to him!”
Empty didn’t know who ‘he’ was. Had this unicorn been a fellow prisoner? A relative of one? Just an overzealous patriot? She probably wasn’t going to learn which before they beat her to death, and wasn’t even keen on finding out. She pushed herself to her hooves as she dove underneath the unicorn stallion, throwing him up and over to crash into the booth table, before running for the door, pushing past a pegasus who hovered in front of the exit.
She heard the yelling behind her as she escaped into the nighttime streets of Canterlot. Their hoofbeats were right behind her even as her heartbeat threatened to drown them out. Empty had been in bar fights before, and won most of them. But she knew this time, a loss wouldn’t mean just a blackout, killer headache and reprimand from the sergeant. She feared her fellow Equestrians would one day try to kill her for siding with the Hegemony, and now it had finally come.
The alleys of Canterlot city passed between buildings with little consistency or logic in this part of town. Empty hoped they would confuse her pursuers and allow her to shake them off. She knew she couldn’t outrun an earth pony or pegasus, the latter’s wingbeats letting her know he was acting as their spotter. Within the maze of buildings, his vision was more limited. Even so she heard him call out to him comrades, and shout threats at her of what was going to happen once they caught her.
She darted across streets and into the nearest alley. Always following where the path took her. Fearing that with each one, she’d find a dead end. But still finding a passage back to the street, or a fence to climb over each time. In one case, when she did see walls on all three sides, she had noticed in time the backyard shed of a house. Leaping up, then onto a balcony, then clambering up the roof, before dropping off it on the other side into the street, landing heavily on her hooves and making her legs ache. Had she still possessed magic, she’d known at least some spells that could help her escape. She had to find a guard patrol of changelings, or other pony collaborators of the Freiwillige Ordnungspolizei. She’d be safe under the protection of the Hegemony.
Finally, her luck ran dry. The turn she had taken had led her into a dead end, and the hoofbeats behind her stopped. She turned around to face her attackers and backed up until her flank hit a garbage bag laying against the wall. The three ponies smiled at her wickedly despite the sweat on their brow.
“Please. Don’t beat me up.” Empty cringed as they drew close, almost towering over her.
“We’re not gonna beat you up. It’s much worse than that!” The earth pony promised before smacking her across the face with his hoof.
Empty tumbled to the floor, knocking over trash cans in her fall. Once more their hooves fell on her like hammerblows. Her ribs and stomach soon ached, while one had taken to kicking her in her sensitive parts which he was loudly describing. Or what she was to him. It was hard to keep focus. Survival instinct was screaming at her to get out, run away. Before their physical abuse ceased to entertain them.
But she knew it was pointless. Her body hurt so badly, she wouldn’t be able to outrun them any longer. The pain was too great. She gave in. This was the end of her short, miserable life. The damnable trenches, fighting against squeakers and other Nightmare cultists. Her ignominious capture by the changelings before war had even been declared on Equestria officially. The horrors of Stalag 4, where she’d been brutalized. The crimes against changelings and fellow ponies alike she was guilty of. The painful, exhausting and horrific monthly love draining by mistress Formica. It would all be over soon. All that was left was to hope they’d make it quick.
“Hold her down.” She heard one of them say, as she felt herself hoisted over one of the fallen trashcans.
Her eye had swollen shut, and she couldn’t see what was happening. She felt one grasp her forelegs and the other press his hoof down on her back. Surely they weren’t going to do what she thought? Even the changelings hadn’t considered doing that!
“Do you know what it feels like, to get screwed?” He asked threateningly “’Cause you sure screwed them over, didn’t you? I think it’s only fair you get your turn.”
Empty Valour squirmed as a rage reawakened in her. “Help! Help! Anypony please, oh please help me!” She screamed.
Though Celestia no longer ruled Equestria, and had disappeared from the world along with justice for the kingdom she’d ruled, Valour found herself praying fervently to the alicorn she had believed forsook her long ago to make the pain stop and grant her at least some dignity before she died. Whether living under the Hegemony, or facing her Princess’ judgement, she would accept anything but this!
As though her prayers had been answered, a gunshot rang out, deafening Valour as she wondering if she could be so lucky. Two more shots. The hooves holding her over a barrel went limp, and a high pitched squeal sounded behind her. The stallion pressing her down fell to the ground, and Valour waited with bated breath.
Had her mistress somehow found her and intervened to save her loyal servant? Another changeling who had come to stop a pony crime in progress? A fellow Equestrian who against all reason did not think she deserved to die? Cautiously, she turned her head to the side, and strained to open her bruised eye. It wasn’t any of those things. Technically, it was an Equestrian. But the strange mask made her rescuer seem alien. Some crime fighting vigilante, like in the comic books? No, this pony seemed too elegant for that. Still, the porcelain domino mask did betray a certain mystique. The pearl-handled engraved silver frame snubnose revolver she held with her unicorn magic also looked way too expensive to be a practical crime fighting weapon.
“What a shame. Turning on your own kind like this. All for a dead earth pony.” The masked saviour muttered, raising the gun in her magic and delivering the coup de grace.
The last assailant cried in protest before a final gunshot silenced him for good. The other mare turned to Empty, and offered her hoof to pull her to her feet. She accepted, groaning in pain as she felt like she would be torn apart by the strain.
“T-thank you, miss…” Empty waited for the other unicorn to answer.
“You may call me Gloriosa, my dear High Valour.” She hadn’t heard that name in a while.
“I’m sorry. That isn’t my name anyone, not for a long time. I go by Empty Valour now.” She thought it weird this lady would know not only her name, but also her past one. Even if her infamy preceded her nowadays.
“Oh come, sweetheart. You were a proper war hero. Why let yourself be diminished by that appellation the changelings gave you?” Gloriosa questioned.
“How do you know all that? Why is it you showed up just in time to save me?” All this was too much of a coincidence.
“My dearest, I’ve had my eyes on you for some time now.” Gloriosa said with a slight hint of flirtation as she used a hoof to clean her scuffed appearance somewhat. “You are just the mare I’ve wanted to meet.”
If Gloriosa knew so much about her, Empty assumed she also knew she worked for Formica. And whatever interest this woman had in her, had to be part of some kind of larger scheme in which she was being manipulated. At the same time, she at least owed it to her rescuer to be polite. And there was something about Gloriosa that intrigued her.
The masked mare’s horn lit up, and a bright light washed over Empty, causing her to close her eyes and cringe. But as it faded, she could feel some of the pain from her beatdown fade with it. This did not seem like the usual healing spell medics would administer. Nor did those actually do much more than expedite the usual processes of first aid or surgery.
“There. Don’t you feel better now? What about your own magic?” Gloriosa asked.
“Uh…” Empty stammered, before pointing her hoof up at her horn, where the inhibitor that the changelings placed on her since she became a prisoner of war remained in its place. “I’m not allowed to use it, nor able to take this off. I could have saved myself had I been able to.” She didn’t know for sure if she could have, but she could at least blame her defeat on that factor.
“Allow me to get that for you.” Gloriosa said as she reached for it with her hoof.
“No no, it won’t come off without the right tool, and I’m not supposed to-” Empty stopped talking as she heard a click and Gloriosa withdrew her hoof, dropping the ring to the ground. “How did-?”
“A secret, my dearest Valour. Being quick hoofed in my trade has many uses.”
“Your trade? What is going on? Why me? How am I so important to you? What sort of game is being played here?” Empty couldn’t hide her exasperation with all the secrets and lies she’d stumbled her way into.
“Patience, my dear Valour. Come with me, and I shall explain all when we get to a safer venue to have this conversation.” Gloriosa offered her with a slight bow, and Empty carefully accepted.
* * *
The place that Gloriosa led her to was not far, though Empty felt she was now deep inside a part of the lower rung of Canterlot that a unicorn of such grace and saviour faire wouldn’t normally frequent. Led into the backdoor of a large building, Empty could see many rooms, and unicorns in some unfamiliar state of intoxication, accompanied by others of the opposite sex, or same in some cases, finding themselves a quieter spot. Empty wondered if she had been led into a bordello and that Gloriosa was merely a madam of an escort service, looking to fill her stable.
“What is this place?” Empty nervously looked around.
She got her answer as they entered the lobby where several more unicorns and a lone changeling awaited attendance. Gloriosa led her to a registry book.
“Welcome to the Hotel Calihornia.” She gave a slight curtsy. “Won’t you be our guest?”
Out of politeness, Empty gripped the pen next to the guest book in her telekinesis. It felt strange using it again after so long. A sense of betrayal and conflicting loyalty fell over her she couldn’t explain as she signed.
She followed Gloriosa further into the hotel to a lounge or club room. Soft pillows and antique couches lined the room and over the radio she heard a soft, soothing jazz tune. Unicorns lay on beds of pillows and cosy rugs with stupefied expressions. Gloriosa stopped at the bar and obtained two empty glasses.
“Who are these unicorns?” Empty asked.
“We are the Cornucopia Society. An ancient Canterlot gathering of important unicorns who believe our rightful place has been stolen and seek to reclaim this glory. Now the banner of our once mighty Equestria lies trampled in the dirt and it is all because of the failures of Harmony that we must bow down to the bugs. Yet even in this state do we recognise the new opportunities presented to us.” Gloriosa appraised a bottle that the bartender held up for her.
“Opportunities?”
Gloriosa swept a hoof out in the direction of the gathered unicorn revelers. “See for yourself how we have created opportunities for unicorns to escape the reality of the Equestria that is, and experience one they wish could be. The secret lies in the love the changelings crave for themselves. Yet only us unicorns can distil its qualities into a unique form so potent, our dreams become so vivid we would swear it was real. If only for a while.”
Gloriosa accepted the bottle, and began to lead Empty to one of the couches as she hurried to keep up. Sitting down, she waited for Gloriosa to uncork the bottle and pour two glasses with a pink liquid that seemed to emit a slight mist. It smelled sweet, and Empty held the glass she was given with slight hesitation while Gloriosa sat next to her.
“Why do you show me all this? What am I to you?” Empty asked, uncomfortable that somepony would grant her the honour of knowing of this secret society of Gloriosa.
“You sound as though you refuse to recognise your own greatness.” Gloriosa flattered. “You fought to keep Equestria from giving special rights to those squeakers, even earned a Star of Valour doing so. One to match your name, High Valour.” She stroked Empty’s face, making her tense up.
“I didn’t do it to stop emancipation, but because it was my duty.” Empty deflected.
“Did you join in the Million Mare March? Would you have voted to make them a fourth tribe? Do you really believe we are equal to them?” Gloriosa insisted.
“The batponies were traitors to Equestria.” Was all Empty said in response.
“Some call you a traitor to Equestria. For serving as an obedient housemaid to Canterlot’s kriminaldirektor. And a certain tragic incident at Stalag 4 your Hegemony keeps buried in its archives. But I did not bring you here to cast judgement on you for some earth ponies and pegasi dying in captivity.” Gloriosa draped her hindlegs across Empty’s lap as she sat closer, her voice down to a whisper “I believe in spite of your submissive nature, you are meant for greater things. Like all unicorns.”
Empty swallowed hard as her ears burned. “I am… actually not- I like stallions, you know?” She looked at her drink and wondered if it offered her an escape from this awkward situation.
Gloriosa must have noticed, as she pressed the glass closer to Empty’s mouth with a hoof. “Go, drink up. See for yourself what deep inside your heart it is you truly believe would be a perfect world.”
Empty swallowed hard as she looked into the pink drink. It seemed to swirl, drawing her in. Turning her head to look back at Gloriosa, she had to admit the mysterious mare’s face was very appealing had she been a filly fooler. Banishing all thought from her mind and throwing caution in the wind, she drank the entire glass in a single gulp.
“Enjoy your stay with us. You’ll wish it could last forever.”
Empty barely paid attention to what Gloriosa said as she was rapidly sucked into a waking dream of pure bliss.
* * *
Empty Valour opened her eyes, disoriented and not knowing where she had wandered off. She saw she was inside a hotel room lying on her back on a very comfortable bed. A bubble of drool hung from her lip, and a wet stain was pressed against her cheek. The space next to her on the queen size bed was disturbed, but she saw no other occupant within the room. There was also no indication who it had been. She had last been with Gloriosa before taking the drink she’d offered, but even while on a wild bender, she’d never had any problem brushing off another mare who felt frisky.
Empty laid her head back on the pillow beneath her and allowed her remaining drowsiness to take her back to dreamland in hopes of recapturing the last memories of what she had experienced. It was indeed the comforting lie Gloriosa promised her. A world without paranoia, and nightmares, and feeding trauma, and…
“Mistress!” Empty exclaimed as she sat straight up in an instant.
How long had she slept? What time was it? Where was she exactly? She bolted up and out the door, into the halls of the hotel. Looking every which way for the exit. Running, running faster, searching for the exit, for the street, for upper Canterlot, the way back to Formica’s home. Her work.
The sun was already in the sky, she saw. Not a good sign. She had been tardy yesterday, but now she was absent! If she had earned herself a stern reprimand before, then Frau Formica would be rightly furious today when she noticed Empty Valour had not come home from her night on the town.
At last, she found the now familiar street where the household she belonged to was. Heading into the alleyway, she raced towards the gate of the backyard and then the rear entrance to the manor. Opening it, she moved at the tip of her hooves to make as little noise as possible. If she could reach her daylight basement room and put on her uniform, and pretend nothing had happened, Formica might not-
“Empty!”
Empty Valour froze mid step as a terrified chill ran along her back. She had barely set foot inside. And that voice had come from right behind her. She heard the hoofsteps of her mistress approach, and she spun around to face her. She slouched submissively as she readied to grovel before Formica in apology.
“Mein Fraulein, I am so, so very sor-” Formica wouldn’t let her finish.
“Do you have even the slightest idea what time it is?” Empty did not answer, expecting her mistress to tell her. “Exactly 9:43 in the morning! And you are supposed to wake at 7:00 on the dot. Yet here I find you entering like a thief in the night after I gave you leave for one night, one single evening, expecting your return no later than 1:00. Did you think I would not find out?”
“No mein Fraulein, I completely overslept-” A slap to the face interrupted her.
“You did not just oversleep. You never returned home, you insolent little sub-equine! What, did the gutter make you feel at home, you drunken tramp of mare?”
“It’s not like that! I wasn’t drunk, or at least only a little.”
“Where is your horn ring?” Formica hooked a hole in her foreleg through said appendage before twisting Empty’s head sideway. “Answer me! You are not allowed to wander free, like a dog off the leash!”
“Someone unlocked it for me, against my protests!” Empty hostility tried to explain.
Even as she did, Formica produced a new one out of the pocket of her police uniform and attached it where the previous one had been. Empty Valour felt her magic dissipate. And with it, a spark of joy she had not realized had been rekindled until it was once again lost. Even so, she continued her explanation.
“There was this mare-” Formica narrowed her eyes at that.
“A mare, you say. I expected you’d crawl in bed with a stallion. Imagine my surprise!” The kriminaldirektor threw her head up in mock astonishment. “I’m going to give you the opportunity to begin from the start and explain how you met this ‘mare’ and what the two of you got up to. And you had better start making sense, Empty. Because you’ve found me very angry with you today.”
Taking a deep breath, Empty got her story straight and hoped mistress Formica would be appeased by her honesty.
“I had spent my night at a bar in the lower quarter when a group of stallions recognised me. They were angry at what I had done to ingratiate myself with the changelings and cornered me inside an alley. They were going to kill me before a masked unicorn interfered.”
“Hah! Fanciful tales from some graphic novel. You being assaulted by fellow pony scum I can believe. But you expect me to believe a masked vigilante would swoop down to save you?” Formica spat out the last word, emphasizing how despised Empty had become to her own kind.
“It’s true, mistress! She called herself ‘Gloriosa’ and she is a member of what she called the ‘Cornucopia Society’. It sounds like they are unicorn camarilla lamenting their lost glory and seek escape in some narcotic. A potion of distilled love that grants you a wondrous trance.” Empty’s explanation piqued Formica’s interest.
“A drug ring, you say? Very interesting. If I wasn’t busy preparing for the party, I’d have to pursue this right now.” Formica pondered aloud. “What else happened between you two?”
“She took me to some hotel, where she got me to imbibe the love extract with her, and I don’t remember what we did. I woke up this morning in a suite with some indications I had shared that bed in my dazed state.” Empty finished her story.
“With Gloriosa?” Formica pressed, but Empty could not be certain as she shook her head.
“I don’t know who it was, but likely another unicorn.”
Formica held up Empty’s chin with a hoof to look at her sternly. “I care not if you fornicate with a mare. But I am quite concerned you’ve been compromised by rebel scum.”
Empty gulped audibly. “I told you the truth, mistress. I can never reintegrate with ponies after what I’ve done. I am loyal to you alone, mein Fraulein.”
“That is starting to take on a foul dimension coming from you, Empty. I don’t want perverted race-mixers living under my roof.” Formica made clear, causing Empty to withdraw in shock.
“It’s not like that, I swear! Whatever spell Gloriosa had over me, I’m a straight mare and never in my life would I be attracted to a changeling!” She wondered if that would offend Formica, but hardly cared if she did.
“And this hotel, where is it?”
“I was in such a hurry to return to you that I did not keep track where I came from. All I remember is it being located in the lower rung. Oh, and its name is ‘Calihornia’.” Empty answered.
Formica pondered for a moment, but softened her expression.
“I will have to investigate, but later. I have an appointment with my mane stylist, and you have a dress to pick up from Polomare’s Patterns. I should lash you with the belt for being late twice in a row, and being out of the house against my wishes. Consider yourself lucky I can’t have you wincing and moaning in pain throughout the party. Get dressed and do your chores immediately. And maybe your punishment can be served in another way.”
Empty bowed her head in gratitude. “Thank you, mistress. I will do so.”
Instead of doing so, she saluted that damned painting of Chrysalis first. As she had been programmed to.
* * *
The party that had been hosted by Lickspittle had drawn ponies and changelings of importance from Canterlot and beyond. The ballroom of the mansion was packed, and ponies worked constantly to serve drinks and food. Which was consumed in great quantities and led to an overall loose atmosphere, with crude jokes that punched down at the lower classes and ponykind itself, dancers waltzing to the band’s music and switching partners like an old set of horseshoes, and couples discreetly retreating to the gardens or private rooms for a different kind of debauchery.
Empty Valour fidgeted with her the strap of her blue jewel-encrusted dress. As with most of the clothing from Polomare’s Patterns, it was extravagant and eye-catching. And free, a gift to butter up the lady its wearer served and Suri had made sure to tell Empty to give Formica her regards. But it also itched from the loose stitching and shoddy needlework by Rarity. From the single glimpse Empty had caught of her earlier, the white unicorn must have been overworked and tired. But that could just be an excuse for the true reason; that Rarity obviously didn’t like Empty very much.
Formica, who looked downright casual in her dress uniform next to Empty’s resplendent attire, casually lifted a glass of white wine from the tray of a passing waiter.
“That’s Fuscus, of Mayfly Industries. He’s invented a cathode ray tube. I believe he’s here to negotiate a project to bring public television to Equestria once trials up north are finished. Soon you’ll be able to see the queen’s speeches from my living room.” Formica explained as she pointed in the direction of the swaggering professor.
“How exciting.” Empty grinned along, wondering if she was going to be made to salute a piece of electronics.
Formica forced her gaze upon a changeling four-star general. “Steer clear of her, Empty. Actia is a degenerate who personally executed prisoners her army took by draining their love. Rumour has it she’ll debase herself by abusing her slaves.”
Empty felt her mistress run her hoof along her back, tingling her spine in an effort to tease her with the horrific implications of her words.
“Even with the Liebessammeldienst now doing the extraction for her, nothing quite matches the personal cruelty of extracting love the old fashioned way, does it, liebchen?” Empty shuddered at the words Formica whispered, having been subjected to her cruel whims and love draining over the years. Actia had to be quite a lot worse for her mistress to turn up her nose at her.
“Miss Formica! I knew I’d find you here.” The piercing, grating voice of Suri Polomare proved to be a relief for once. “I see your assistant is enjoying the gown I’ve had made. She does complement you so well.”
The designer earth pony joined them, wearing her own yellow dress for the occasion. She ignored the slight hint of annoyance Formica gave off.
“It’s… beautiful, yes.” Empty was not going to mention the itching, even if Rarity would be the one paying the price for it.
“I just wanted to thank you, Miss Formica. I was having such a hassle with the prison camp administration, but you really came through for me. You should stop by the workshop I’ve opened up to see for yourself. Changelings are just so much better at organizing labour. Under Celestia it was always so much bother with ‘contract negotiation’ and ‘collective bargaining’! Ha ha hah, as if I have time for such nonsense!”
Formica swirled the wine in her glass as she looked at it, evidently considering it more interesting than Suri. “I’m glad we found a purpose for your deadbeat ponies. The love we extract from your criminal countrymares does not nearly cover the expense of feeding them. It would have been cheaper to starve them.”
Suri laughed along to Formica’s ‘joke’, but Empty thought the fashion tycoon didn’t know her owner well enough to recognise that she was serious.
“Well, if only we could bury the artisans with them!” Suri continued to jest. “You don’t know how hard it is as an earth pony in a unicorn profession. Being the underdog in the fashion world, clawing your way to success. These Canterlot unicorn types always think that with the precision of their magic, they’re more suited to make ‘true art’. We earth ponies just don’t get taken very serious in professions requiring dexterity. And when we compensate with our ingenuity, bringing mass production to make dresses for the masses, dear Celestia do the unicorns complain!”
Empty had to stop herself from gagging. There were plenty of earth ponies in the artistic fields. And they sure loved to complain about representation, like Suri was doing. Maybe if they weren’t delivering shoddy products like this itchy dress, unicorns would take them seriously.
“I was under the impression your unicorn kin were the creative caste by virtue of superior magic. All below changelings, of course.” Formica tried putting the annoying pony in her place. And rub her racial chauvinism in her face as well.
“Magic does not push the boundaries of science and progress the way it used to, now that industry and machines have caught up, and continues to outpace it. A hundred unskilled hooves can make better clothing in less time than the same number of horns.” Suri dismissed, haughtily brushing off Formica. “I’ve tried to teach my assistant the same lesson, but Rarity is just so stuck in the past, she won’t look past her unicorn arrogance. Defending her outdated thinking as “love of her craft” and “attention to detail”. But a mechanism needs no love, and remains precise regardless.”
Empty unconsciously felt her own horn with her hoof, feeling insecure. She had been brought down to Suri’s level, except she wasn’t the face of a brand of fashion. She was a unicorn living in bondage to a changeling mistress, not a free collaborator of the Hegemony earning millions of bits off of forcing other prisoners of war into slave labour. In a way, Suri Polomare was her superior, and she had to stand here and take these backhoofed comments from an earth pony, because she was exploiting ponies like her who had lost the war. Seeing Formica establish her dominance over this ingrate bitch with her own racist comments was the only satisfaction she could get.
“It’s true, labour that is allocated to heavy machinery is how our Queen Chrysalis conquered. But beyond our collective work culture and innate magic, we changelings realize what is truly important to our military success, and that is hierarchy. Everyling must know their place within the system for the machinery of war to function. And ponies do not, or they would not have lost fighting for the freedom to be individualistic and disorganized. Perhaps if those unicorns had been heeded earlier, your country would not now need to be reorganized by changelings.” Formica’s rebuttal didn’t get much of an argument from Suri, who just smiled back as she figured out how to justify herself without contradicting her new changeling rulers.
Letting her eyes wander across the crowd, looking for something to distract from the petty fashionista accosting her owner, Empty spotted an unmistakeable mask and glimpsed the unicorn that had saved her the night before. She dared to interrupt Formica.
“Mein Fraulein, it’s her!” She whispered as she elbowed the kriminaldirektor, and pointed where Gloriosa was.
Without paying any further attention to Suri Polomare, Formica proceeded in the direction Empty had indicated at a swift pace. She followed immediately behind as her eyes darted across the room to locate the mare of mystery.
“Looking for me?” Empty heard the familiar voice from behind her, and turned around to see her sashay up to them. How did she manage that?
“You’re the mare known as ‘Gloriosa’, I presume?” Formica gave the masked unicorn a sharp look.
“And you are the Canterlot commissariat’s kriminaldirektor Formica.” Gloriosa stated as a matter of fact. “I knew introducing your lackey to my acquaintances would get your attention at this sycophantic display Lickspittle calls a gala.”
“You shouldn’t have bothered. I have ample testimony to take you in right here. Three counts of murder, trafficking illegal substances, operating a prohibited organization.” Formica’s horn glowed, as she subtly readied her service pistol. And Empty noticed Gloriosa’s horn was lit up in similar fashion.
“You have nothing but the word of a cur.” Empty felt a stab of betrayal hearing Gloriosa’s true opinion come through. “And bringing me in won’t solve your kind’s problem in Canterlot, just make them worse. When instead we could be helping each other.”
“Help each other? This silly gathering is crawling with ponies swearing that they’re of use. Why do you think I want to hear more of this dreck from a pony?”
“Yes, I saw you were bothered by that earth pony fraud, Polomare. I heard all about how she deludes herself that her modern methods have replaced magic. When she is profiting off the labour of a unicorn who is her better.” It seemed Gloriosa was part of the Polomare hate club, to Empty and Formica’s delight. “My associates and I have tolerated these leeches for too long. The Hegemony is our chance to change Equestria for the better.”
“I have heard assurances from every pony I’ve spoken to here that they believe changeling rule will be an improvement, and I believe very little of it. What makes your ‘associates’ any better?” Formica remained sceptical, and pointing the gun at Gloriosa.
“They don’t have the pedigree to back their words of faith in racial hierarchy like the Cornucopia Society. Unlike them, we never believed in the lie of Harmony that was promoted by Celestia, and its self-serving usurpation of our destined rule over ponykind.”
“What of our history, and of the windigos? Strife and intolerance brought us to the brink of extinction.” Empty spoke out of turn, noticing Formica’s annoyance, but the almost gleeful smile of Gloriosa, who seemed to be hopeful for it to be brought up.
“That is just what Celestia wants us to believe, not? When in truth, the natural order was disturbed. And all disasters that befell us stem from that. The rebellious earth pony serfs of our ancestors blackmailed unicorns by withholding food. And the excessive pride of pegasi who became so arrogant due to their martial prowess caused them to think they deserved to rule by strength. Just because you have power over another does not give you the right use it, when you can’t even wield it properly.”
“Bold words from one who must kiss changeling arsch.” Formica was smug, remaining in her standoff as the party continued around them, unaware.
“Whatever role changelings have to play in Equestria is yet to unfold. The simple truth is that when ponies begin assuming roles nature did not shape them for, ponykind suffers. The Cornucopia Society does not wish to replace fellow ponies. Can you imagine a unicorn picking apples, or managing the weather? No, we wish to keep ourselves and our fellow races where they belong. Under Celestia, we demeaned ourselves taking the roles of lesser ponies. Not leading them, but being led by them. And that is why we lost the war, Miss Formica. Our own hierarchy became confused, following alicorns who represented equality of all three races, and worse, unparalleled miscegenation!”
“Where before earth ponies remained traditional and shunned unicorn magic, now they welcome us as relatives and try to incorporate our sacred magic into profane machinery. Casting aside traditions that served them for millennia and raising half-breed foals who never achieve the specialized roles prepared for them. While we unicorns fornicate with pegasi, diluting our bloodline and birthing unicorns bad at spellcraft. While pegasi are grounded by offspring that cannot fly. Or we have them born to non-pegasi parents that cannot teach them flight. Why is it that the best mages come from Canterlot, and best flyers from Cloudsdale? Because those cities have untainted magic bloodlines. By sheer luck of happenstance, maybe. And if the Cornucopia Society has anything to say about it, by design.”
Empty watched Formica take in Gloriosa’s words. The changeling enforcer, she knew, was very skilled at reading emotions. Her kind ‘sensed’ them by their innate magic, and Formica always could tell when somepony lied. She had been testing Gloriosa to see if she was yet another collaborator reciting the changeling racial teaching to curry favour, or a sincere believer in every word she said.
“I can see why my housemaid allowed herself to be buttered up by your words.” Formica’s magic ceased, followed by Gloriosa’s, to Empty Valour’s relief. “Say what it is you’ve come to discuss, and maybe I won’t have to arrest you.”
“The Society extends a hoof of friendship to the Hegemony, as our goals align in imposing a new hierarchy of the races. We won’t be lumped in with the pegasi, earth ponies or even…” Gloriosa shuddered as she spoke the epithet “squeakers.”
“So eager to throw the harmony of your fallen princesses onto the trash heap of history?” A bemused smirk crossed Formica’s face.
“Celestia may have found Canterlot as her capital, but we unicorns founded it. And we have worked hard to reclaim it from unappreciative louts and harmonists.”
“By selling drugs to ponies lost in their lethargy?” Formica mocked.
“Is that not what you want from your pony subjects? Their war wounds dulled and trauma clouded by a peaceful, illusory distraction?” Gloriosa guessed. “Unlike earth ponies like Suri, who dabble in new methods, the Cornucopia Society actually has perfected the magic of love. Based on prior understanding of it, as well as insights gleaned from changelingkind. And we offer it to the commissariat along with our services, in exchange for a few pardons and the right appointments. All you have to do is let your superiors know we are ready to strike a deal.”
Formica acquired two new glasses of wine, sharing one with the masked unicorn.
“We have such sights to show you.” Gloriosa assured, and the glass clinked.
* * *
Suri Polomare led her two guests through her new workshop, across the walkway spanning the work floor of her new factory, explaining every step of the process involved in making uniforms for the new Canterlot commissariat police force. Empty Valour wanted to yawn, but even though she knew Formica’s attitude to the visit was the same, she knew better than to embarrass her before this collaborator. She had wondered why she even had to be here, accompanying her mistress on official government business. Until she remembered how every stallion or mare that had been put to work here was a prisoner of war, like she had been before being assigned to Formica. Because she was still paying the penalty for her recent tardiness, she guessed Formica used the opportunity to remind Empty how things could be worse, working for this pink earth pony windbag.
“Here we sew the lining into the jackets. As you can see, each pony is responsible only for the piece under their sewing machine. We have other ponies drop off material and pick up finished ones so they can be delivered to those who will attach the buttons, so they can focus on their specific task. Division of labour, as per changeling example. No improvisation, no diversion.” Suri had a knack for describing the most boring processes with unwarranted enthusiasm. Probably because it made her money.
All Empty saw was dozens of ponies, seated behind their work table in the same work uniform, mirthlessly repeating the same task over and over. Forced to toil in a sweatshop to make some Manehattenite hag wealthy off of corruption and serving a sentence for warcrimes that often were as basic as having opposed the changeling Heer. They looked tired and underfed, but none complained. A couple of changeling guards watched from above for slackers and troublemakers. Their jobs were probably just as boring. Unless they decided to make their days interesting.
Empty was snapped to attention by a sudden scream and several gasps as ponies looked in the direction of one of the workbenches. She could see a mare who had been too careless with her hoof as she slid the fabric under the sewing machine needle, and had sustained a nasty injury. She whimpered as she managed to pull free, and tried to stem the bleeding with some of the fabric.
“My product! You’re getting blood all over my beautiful clothing!” Suri shouted in admonishment from up on the balcony. “Will somepony get that mare treated before she leaks all over the fabric and wastes hundreds of bits in material!?”
A couple of the overseers landed next to the pony and began to drag her away towards the first aid kit placed at the back of the room. Ruefully, Empty noticed the mare was a fellow unicorn. Had she used her magic to operate the machine, it’s doubtful she would now be treated for her injury. But like Empty, her horn had another of those damnable inhibitor rings that prevented the use of magic.
“We’re losing time here, ponies. I’m not getting paid for any of you getting your boo-boos treated! Somepony clean up that work station and take her place. It’s a simple job, a mule could do it!” Suri kept shouting instructions down to where the ponies had quickly stopped paying attention to their colleague and gone back to concentrating on their own workload.
So this was what earth pony ingenuity looked like.
* * *
Normally, nightfall meant Empty could retire to bed. The hour when mistress Formica did, was when she expected quiet and for Empty Valour to be done with her work. Not that she ever felt she had the strength to remain active for longer. But once a month, she would be summoned instead to Formica’s bedchamber. The lion’s den.
Though she cleaned the bedroom frequently according to her mistress’ expectations, it still felt forbidden to her. Somewhere she was not safe. And this made what transpired inside much more awkward than it already was. Though the prim nightgown Formica would wear didn’t exude the authority of her uniform, Empty had grown to fear it all the same. Her own maid uniform in Aquilean style continued to instil an uncomfortable sense of possession by her mistress.
“Kneel.” Commanded the mistress, and the slave obeyed.
As she lay on her haunches before the lady bug, Formica grasped the useless unicorn horn with a hoof to hold her in place as she activated her own crooked changeling horn. She opened her mouth wide to reveal the fangs and split tongue within, and wispy tendrils of pink magic began to flow out of Empty Valour, seemingly out of every hole and pore. She groaned at the pain this process always caused her.
Giving up her love to her owner never ceased being an agonizing process that made Empty feel abandoned and disliked by all. Her full awareness that she deserved no love and kindness only augmented the draining’s emotional effects. Anxiety over an approaching feeding, or exhaustion from a recent one always brought her nightmares. Dreams of being captured by the Equestrian resistance and tortured for her treason, of Celestia herself presiding over her trial and offering no mercy, of being dragged into one of the dark corners of Stalag 4 by the guards and subjected to unspeakable acts. These sleeping terrors matched the intensity of the chill resulting from the changeling’s devouring spell.
It was hard to imagine any creature putting up with having the joy and tenderness ripped from their very soul on a monthly basis like this. But it wasn’t as though she had a say in this matter. The one mitigating factor that brought relief after the feeding, was that it had a profound effect on changelings to have their hunger satiated. Formica was always energetic, in high spirits, sharp-witted and brimming with ecstasy in the days following another feeding. Nothing short of Empty’s own mistakes could spoil such a mood, and given how she had learned to be tactful and quiet with her mistress, those times offered at least some reprieve to compensate all other discomforts.
“More! More, you grub!” Formica’s growing delight was vocal.
A greater feeling of urgency and panic welled up inside Empty as she believed that Formica was exceeding the usual length of the process. And as the seconds passed, this seemed less an issue of perception, because now Empty felt her being succumbing more and more to the complete darkness as her vision faded and hearing deafened. She knew that if this continued, Formica would pass the point of no return and Empty would suffer a fatal love deficiency. Impotently, she trashed her limbs about, unable to even feel them, much less move them with any coordination. And just as the jaws of death closed in on her, it all stopped.
Empty Valour breathed an audible breath as her vision slowly returned, and she cast her eyes on Formica. Had she become greedy? No, she recognised the look her mistress gave her. That was stern gaze she reserved for when punishment was meted out. And Empty understood it had been over her inability to keep her schedule, and her night time absence when she stayed at the Hotel Calihornia. She lowered her head to the floor.
“I’m sorry, mein Fraulein. I will take better care to not stray from your household and always obey.” She apologized, her dignity lost long ago.
“I should thank you for being the medium by which Gloriosa was able to establish contact with me, but I simply cannot overlook your failure.” Formica’s bright smile of satisfaction did not fool Empty into thinking this had not been done to her on purpose.
“I understand. I should not have listened to her lies. Even if she did save me from those attackers.”
“Yes, attackers.” A bemused chuckle escaped Formica’s mouth. “The ones she told where to find you.”
Empty’s mouth dropped in surprise at that. She could see why Gloriosa did not actually care for her, as no pony did anymore. But to set her up deliberately?”
“Oh yes, mein liebchen. I’m afraid her little act of unicorn solidarity was a ruse. She wanted you to trust her, so you would tell me, and I would take notice of her. We worked out quite an interesting arrangement.”
Formica leaned aside, and now Empty could see the bottle of pink, misty fluid that stood on Formica’s nightstand. She made sure to turn it so the label faced Empty. The unmistakeable mark of the Cornucopia Society’s signature drug.
Why would mistress Formica strike a deal with criminals to further the Hegemony’s racial agenda? Why would she acquire their illegal substances? Why would she still choose to personally feed off of Empty Valour when both the processed love of the Liebessammeldienst and the Cornucopia Society drug were available to her as modern substitutes to magical feeding?
The answer, she knew, was quite simple. Because nothing beats the touch of personal cruelty quite like feeding off a pony that was powerless like her.
That horn ring had been the first thing to signify her capture. Now it was the signifier that she was not equal to the likes of Gloriosa, who chose to serve the changelings freely. Instead of being enervated into becoming something less than a unicorn.
“Gute Nacht, mein liebchen. Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” Formica teased viciously, waving her off.
Empty Valour retreated from the bedroom to seek her own bed in the basement. Tomorrow she had to be up at 7 like clockwork. Further mistakes by her would only make her a broken tool. In the absence of magic, function was all she had.
