Chapter 6 For our comrades

49 thrusted a shovel into the ground. The steel blade cut through the soft earth effortlessly, separating tiny roots and sticks. He pressed the handle down and sent the dirt flying with a strong swing.

49 thrusted his shovel into the ground.

He stood inside of a large hole, about two meters wide, twenty meters long and already half a meter deep.

49 pushed the handle down.

He was not digging alone. Over a dozen of his brothers were digging with him.

49 sent the dirt flying out of the hole.

The euphoria of victory had vanished as quickly as it had come over them as soon as Vicis asked for volunteers to bury the dead. Unlike the day before, they were not immediately moving on. They had received the order to halt and wait to reunite with their regiment which was on its way to them.

Into each thrust of the shovel, 49 laid all the hate, anger and sadness he felt over the death of his bothers.

Despite the grim nature of the task, Vicis had no problems finding drones willing to do it. In fact, so many volunteered that he had to pick who got to dig. Using equipment provided by the local population, the changelings set out to dig a grave for their comrades. Herus, who was supervising the progress, had chosen a small hill east of the town as the location. From up there, they had a great view over the town and its surroundings.

To the west of the town was a thin strip of forest which the changelings had used to sneak up on the unsuspecting ponies the day before. In the east were wide open plains and fields, stretching over hills and valleys. The green meadows, mixed with golden wheat fields created a patchwork of colors, separated by rows of trees and hedges and narrow dirt roads.

49 felt his stomach twisting. It was a weird mixture of being hungry and the urge to throw up. The more time passed, and the more he thought about the fate of his brothers, the more it got to him. And while this gut-wrenching feeling was torturing him, the hunger for Love grew as well. The leftovers of their rations were no way near enough for the rest of the day, and he already felt empty. The metaphorical hole inside him was getting bigger and bigger, what felt like his guts turning to ice and his soul being sucked in. This combined with how he felt about the loss of his brothers created a turmoil of negativity and pain inside of 49 that threatened to overwhelm him.

49 did not recognize himself. At first, he had thought that he could easily move on, but as he began to fully comprehend the meaning of death, his mental defenses came crumbling down. He could not imagine what he would feel like if it had hit 50.

A few meters away from them at the foot of the hill, ponies were digging a second hole. Unlike the drones, they had not volunteered for the task.

The hole they were digging was almost three times the size of the hole on the hill. In a circle around the ponies, drones were on guard. They stood there almost motionless, watching the ponies work. From the town, more ponies were arriving accompanied by changelings. They were carrying bodies on their backs, unloading them next to the hole. The wall of corpses got higher and longer.

The clean up works had begun right as fighting ceased and had already been going for 2 hours.

On the hill there were also bodies lying, but they were covered by tent tarpaulins and not stacked atop each other as if they were bricks. The very first thing the changelings did was gathering their fallen brethren and attending the wounded.

The digging was silent. The only sounds heard were the sound of the shovels and the dirt. None of the changelings wanted to talk. They were all too busy with their own thoughts. 49’s happiness about achieving this victory was first evened out, then completely drowned by the somber feeling he got while thinking about the casualties.

While they were digging, 49 saw Leutnant Agrilus coming over to them from the town. With long hasty steps, he made his way up the hill, slowing down as he reached the top. He walked straight past the digging drones, not even granting them a look and joined Herus at the edge of the grave. The service regulations were very strict when it came to greeting superiors, but the Leutnant did not salute the Oberleutnant. He did not even stand at attention for the higherup. Agrilus simply stood next to Herus, looking with him at the working drones.

“Their Bodies will be brought home. They will get a funeral in their home hives,” Agrilus said with almost robotic voice as he tried to suppress any emotions from entering his voice. “Their family will see them one last time.”

Herus clenched his jaw and remained silent.

“Are you alright, Herus?” the smaller changeling asked, his voice not louder than a whisper now. 49 had to really concentrate to hear what the Leutnant said over the sound of the shovels.

Herus remained silent, his eyes fixated on the row of bodies behind the digging drones.

“Thought so,” said Agrilus, after waiting for a response a little longer.

The two stood there for a moment in silence until Herus finally spoke up. “Almost half my company, Agrilus. Almost half. 91, in two days.” His voice, usually strong and loud, now sounded weak, defeated and glum. “They died under my command, because of my mistakes.”

Agrilus did not reply immediately. Taken by surprise that Herus did not even address what he said about the fallen officers, he started to scratch the ground with his right hoof, visibly uncomfortable and in thoughts. Then he lowered his gaze at the ground in front of him. “It is not your fault; you did not make any mistakes. You were following orders, just like they did. We are all doing our duty here, with all the risks that come with it, don’t forget that. They knew what they were doing,” he made a short break, “and what we were risking. We can’t fight without taking losses.”

“They,” said Herus flat, his voice now empty. “We always call and refer to them in mass, as ‘they’, hardly knowing anything of them. We say, ‘they died,’ instead of saying who died. We say, ‘they fought,’ ‘they won,’ ‘they lost.’”

Now Agrilus looked up to Herus, his dark blue eyes narrow. “You can’t be expected to know over 200 drones personally.”

Herus did not return the gaze. He continued to look at the bodies. “Why not? We are expected to lead over 200 drones into battle and possible death, why should we not at least know whose life we play with. I knew some of them, I tried to know all of them. Since they were placed under my command, I tried to get to know them all. I don’t know them for as long as Vicis does, but still for a majority of their lives. Now, so many of those I knew are dead, and even more of those I did not know.” Towards the end, Herus’s voice got quieter and quieter, but also harsher. Unnoticed by Agrilus, but not unnoticed by 49, Herus clenched his hands to fists as he spoke.

Agrilus averted his gaze, and they stood there in silence for another moment. 49 could practically feel how desperate Agrilus tried to come up with something to raise Heru’s mood. “Well, then get to know who is still here. You can’t change the past, but you can try to influence the future,” Agrilus said, trying to sound as optimistically as possible given the context of the statement.

Herus snorted, his nostrils flaring. “Just to have more friends dying?”

“We are at war,” Agrilus retorted, suddenly speaking in a harsh tone before switching to a calm and comforting one again. “We can just try to make the best out of it. But we can’t falter now, the fatherland needs us.”

Sighing, Herus finally looked at Agrilus. “I just don’t know how to carry on. I don’t want to grow distant from my boys, but I also don’t know how long I can take seeing them die like flies in front of me.”

The smaller changeling patted Herus back and gave him a comforting smile. “You always did great as a company commander, probably the best in the entire regiment. Your dro- your boys believe in you. Don’t change, and you will always have loyal friends to give you support. Everything will be okay.”

“You think so?”

“Of course, as long as we are comrades. And no kind of pony magic or trickery will ever change that.”

They fell silent, watching the drones and ponies work.

49 agreed with Agrilus. Herus was always there for his drones when there were problems, and he always tried to call them by their ‘Nicknumber’ without having to look at their ID tattoo on their neck, eventhough he did not have the ability too sens who was in front of him. He had always been sincere to them, had always showed that he cared for them and although 49 was not one of the drones Herus got to know, he still had a sense of attachment his Oberleutnant.

But he could also emphasize with Herus more than he would like to admint because of it, his thoughts still circling around his dead brothers. He desperately tried to find a way that could have prevented their untimely demise, but all the scenarios he could think of involved doing the one thing that was simply not an option; not to fight. All other realistic scenarios unavoidably involved casualties.

“If the replacements will be any good? I am not talking about the drones, I know they will do a good job, but I mean the new officers,” Herus asked, switching the topic and suddenly breaking the silence. His voice had regained some strength, but the sadness was still there, despite his efforts to suppress it.

“They visited the same academy as we did, went through the same training as we did. What do you think will be different about them?” asked Agrilus in return.

“That is what I am worried about. That there is nothing different about them.”

Agrilus shook his head. “I do not understand.” 49 was just as confused about what Herus meant.

“That they are as inexperienced as we are,” Vicis tried to explain.

Raising an eyebrow, Agrilus looked at Herus again.

“We were stunned the first time we were being shot at yesterday,” said Herus quickly before Agrilus could ask him if he meant to imply that they were incompetent. “What if they will be just as shocked?. What if they do terrible mistakes while under shock?

“Also, they have no connection to our drones, they don’t know them at all and would maybe not hesitate to risk their lives meaninglessly. Maybe even see them as expendable.”

Herus was talking quickly, his voice trembling with tension. He had put both his hands on his belt and had begun to tap his fingers with a quick rhythm on the brown leather.

“Don’t think of such horror scenarios. They are changelings like we are and trained like we are. I’m sure they will bond quickly with their drones. Also, if you find someling to be inappropriate for service, you can just ask the regiment to replace him.” Agrilus tried to further comfort Herus.

Herus swallowed and 49 could see his larynx jump as he did so. “But how many may die until I have sufficient evidence to enforce a replacement.”

The two officers fell silent again and before anyling could speak up again, something else caught the officer’s attention. Herus’s eyes suddenly shot up from the grave and focused on something in the far distance, Agrilus following suit.

49 tried to turn around inconspicuously to get a look at what Herus was looking at. At first, he could not find anything. 49 could only see the ponies digging and drones guarding them. Occasionally a group of ponies would emerge from the streets of the town, dragging more bodies to the grave. That was when he noticed two drones in bright blue uniforms and black pants. They were carrying something, but what it was, 49 could not see.

These drones were obviously not part of the ground forces, they were aerial infantry. The mobile shock units of the changeling army, equivalent to the Pegasi of the Equestrian army. Their black pants and sky-blue tunics did not fit in with the other drones they walked by whose uniforms were dirty and bloody from the fighting. Red cuffs and golden buttons decorated their sleeves. Their gaiters were in pitch black and polished. Attached to their belt on their left hip was a saber, its metal scabbard was as black and polished as the gaiters. The tip protector and the guard of the saber were made of shining metal. On their other hip was a holster for a pistol. The belt itself was leather coated with white paint. From their left shoulder to their right hip, they had an also white leather strap which held a long, tubular-formed scabbard on their back. Inside said scabbard was a lance. The lances were black, long and on their tip, just a few centimeters below the metal spike, was a small black and white flag that waved in the mild wind.

These two drones were light lancers, hence they did not wield rifles. Lancers were the most mobile of all the aerial forces, because they did not wear any armor except the spiked helmet all soldiers wore, nor did they have to carry ammunition for weapons, thus were often deployed as scouts, for sabotage missions, flanking maneuvers or to intercept enemy aerial troops.

They were now halfway up the hill, and 49 could get a closer look at them. He immediately noticed that one of the lancers also had a trumpet attached to his belt. As the two walked past drones of the 8. Batallion, 49 noticed that the uniform of the lancers was much tighter than the uniforms of his comrades. Their black pants were not baggy, but perfectly enveloped the legs of the drones to allow for better aerodynamic in the air. Their sky-blue tunics were just as tight, emphasizing the stature of the drones. Like 49 and his brethren, the lancers were rather tall, but they lacked the robust and muscular anatomy of the infantry. They had a very athletic body and slender limbs with well defined muscles.

The lancers had reached the top of the hill. Herus’ and Agrilus’ eyes followed them with interest as they walked over to the row of bodies. Only now did 49 get a look at what the two were carrying. The two lancers were carrying an improvised stretcher made off a tent tarpaulin and two long, straight branches. The stretcher was covered by another tarpaulin, and judging from the bulge, it covered yet another body.

They carefully placed the stretcher down at the end of the row, before assuming attention stance in front of the two officers.

“Herr Oberleutnant, Herr Leutnant,” the left lancer said, while saluting. “I am WD18512, this is WD18510. Our Schwarmführer did not want our comrade to be buried alone, thus he asked Hauptman Vicis for permission to bury him with your drones.”

There was a moment of silence.

Herus and Agrilus exchanged glances before Agrilus spoke up. “Very well. You are welcome to join the burial. We are almost ready as you can see.”

“What happened to him?” asked Herus, gazing at the newest addition to the row of bodies.

There was no immediate reply. The lancers glared at each other as if they were silently debating who would tell the grim tale. In the end, it was WD18512 who spoke up. “We were on a simple reconnaissance mission. Everything went well until we reached a small hut in a forest. Probably belonged to some lumberjacks. He approached on hoof to get a closer look, but the ponies had noticed us. And one of them was armed.”

Herus and Agrilus stayed silent for a few seconds after the drone had finished talking, like they were waiting for the end of the story although they already knew how it would end.

“It all went really fast after that shot was fired. The ponies were impaled on lances before they could fire another shot.”

“I see,” said Herus briefly.

While WD18512 had told the story of his fallen comrade, 49 and the others had finished digging and stepped out of the hole. He did one final thrust with his shovel, not to dig but to ram the shovel into the ground and rest his arms on its handle. If changelings were able to sweat, 49 would have swiped it off his forehead now. His arms felt like they were made out of wood, and they hurt. As were his hands. They were sore from the fraction of the shovel handle.

“Let`s not delay any further,” said Agrilus and clapped his hands, abruptly ending the thoughtful silence.

The drones assumed formation. From all over the city, drones that were not necessary for patrolling climbed up the hill. A block formed behind the officers and four drones took position at the left end of the row of bodies. They began to pick up the first two corpses, carefully lifting the bodies down in the grave. In slow and orderly fashion, the ceremonial procedure continued body after body. 49 stared at them, feeling a lump forming in his throat. There was something so unreal about this whole situation. His dead brothers were being buried, while elsewhere there was still fighting. This was just the third day, and he had a feeling that this would not be the last time he would attend such a ceremony. By far not the last one.

After the last body had been lowered to its final rest, the drones assumed attention stance at the right end of the grave.

One of the lancers advanced one pace. It was the one that had the trumped. He raised the instrument to his lips, the metal shining brightly in the noon sun. He took a deep breath and began to play.

The sound of the trumped was loud and clear, the notes echoing of the buildings and reverbing throughout the entire city. It was a simple melody, only one note at the time. And it was a sad melody. Its simpleness did not strip away any of its meaning. It was a song written by a drone trumpeter during the battle for Canterlot, as farewell for one of his fallen comrades. It was unknown who the composer was or who the drone this song was written for was, or when he died and how he died. The story told that when he began to play, all weapons in the ruined city ceased fire for a moment, as the soldiers listened to the melody of this changeling, as he honored and mourned his fallen friend.

It did not take long after the battle until this melody would earn an almost sacred status due to how perfect it aligned with the changelings’ spirit, militaristic ideology and national identity, becoming their symbol of heroic sacrifice.

49 struggled to keep his breath calm. Not even the most cold-blooded warrior could stay untouched and resist the melancholic feeling this song transmitted. Though its meaning was different for everybody and determined on personal experiences; the song made them all feel the same way, whether they lost somebody or not.

As the first notes filled the air, the officers raised their right hands for a salute. Green light suddenly began to radiate from them, as Herus and Agrilus ignited their horns. As 49 saw this, he and his brothers lowered their heads in devotion to the dead but ignited their horns as well. The green glow grew stronger but did not become bright. It was a gloomy light, almost unnoticeable under the bright sun and only actually visible due to the arcane aura surrounding the changelings’ horns, which was not affected by the sunlight.

This simple gesture, which ponies might mistakenly identify as a collective attempt to cast a spell, was in reality the changeling way to honor and show their respect. It took a lot of concentration and power for 40 to ignite his horn and keep it glowing, which only made the gesture more meaningful. The purposefully minimal magical abilities of the drones were to minimize their emotion consumption.

They stood like this for the duration of the song, just listening to the melody of the trumpet. As the ponies lowered their dead into the much larger grave, the drones guarding them also lowered their heads and ignited their horns, though not for the ponies.

As the trumpet fell silent, Herus could be heard taking a deep breath. “As the highest-ranking officer present, it is my honor to speak a few last words for our comrades.

“My dear comrades, at your duty’s end, we want to wish you farewell and thank you for your service. Though your time with us on the battlefield might have been short, the value of your deeds is unrivaled. Your sacrifice today, in the defense of everything we cherish shall never be forgotten and shall give all of us the strength to one day follow your example. It is the highest duty and highest honor for every changeling to give their life for queen and fatherland.

“Even if the world shall never learn what heroes you were, the changeling people always knew and always will know. By sacrificing our blood in battle, we shall expel the darkness the ponies try to drown us in. Every soldier that falls is another step towards the liberation of our people, and you made the starting steps today. With your unconditional willingness for even the greatest sacrifice, you are truly an iron generation, and nothing short of an iron generation will be able to overcome what lies ahead.

“But our future is none of your concerns anymore. You may rest now and for all eternity. There is no creature that deserves it more than you. Möge Gott euch im himmlischen Reich wilkommen heißen.”

Once finished, Herus bowed his head slightly. When he raised his head again, the drones picked up their shovels again and began burying their comrades with Equestrian soil.

As the drones were working, Agrilus turned to face Herus. “Herus, I know this is not adequate for the moment, but get your boys to clean up after this, Vicis ordered a general inspection in 40 minutes, so that we look presentable when the regiment arrives,” he whispered.

Herus shook his head in surprise. “What, the regiment?”

49’s ears perked up at the mentioning of the regiment. This was something important, he needed to know more.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, the regiment chose this town as location for the rendezvous. The other two battalions and the staff are already on their way to us,” Agrilus explained. “But neither Vicis nor I know where we will be heading after that.”

Herus scratched his neck with his right hand. “If that’s so. Sure, we will be ready.”

And so, it was. After the drones finished filling up the hole, they placed an improvised wooden cross on the small mount of dirt. They sent the ponies home, after they were also done with burying their people, and then gathered in a corner of the city square and quickly got to clean themselves up. The city square was already quite busy when they arrived. In one corner, some drones from the 6. Company were already dusting themselves off, and in another corner, drones gathered the wounded.

To clean their uniform in the field, the drones possessed a small brush. With said brush, they got to work on the stains on their uniform. The dirt and dust came off rather easily, but those who had blood on their uniforms could scrub as much as they wanted.

“Herr Oberleutnant!” one of the drones called out. “I can’t get the blood off.”

49 saw Herus walk over and kneeled next to the drone. The Oberleutnant inspected the bloody uniform.

“That requires professional cleaning.” He made a short pause. “Only the logistic has the means to get these stains out.”

Herus stood up again, straightening his back. “Listen up, everyling that has blood on his uniform, you will give your uniform in for cleaning once the regiment arrives. We can’t fix that as of now,” he proclaimed.

49 looked at his own tunic in his hands. The red stain from the day before was already completely dried into the fabric, he doubted that it could ever be removed. Only a few patches of dirt were on his sleeves from the digging. Working the brush, the dirt was quickly dealt with, But the dark spot on his chest stayed. While 49 put on his tunic again, he checked his pants and gaiters. They needed some brushing as well, and so he got to work. It was a welcome distraction.

“Achtung, Hauptmann von links!”

49 dropped his brush in surprise and jumped up, head turned left to face the approaching Hauptmann.

Hauptmann Vicis was rapidly approaching from the 6. Company, collar button of his uniform unbuttoned and slightly tilted Pickelhaube. When he was but a few meters away from Herus, the Oberleutnant saluted and reported, “7. Kompanie beim Ausrüstung säubern.”

“Very good,” Vicis said briskly. “Hurry up, the regimental staff will be here soon, and I want to quickly inform the battalion about the final state of the infantry reform. I just got the information from a courier.”

“Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann. But Herr Hauptmann,” Herus interjected, “what do we do about the blood?”

Vicis stared at Herus for a moment in confusion, then he glanced at one of the drones which had a huge red-brownish stain on its shoulder.

“Nothing. There is nothing we can do. View the stains as trophies for the time being.”

Herus clicked his hooves and silently saluted as Vicis turned around, “come now, we gather at the fountain.”

Hesitantly, the 7. company followed Vicis to the large fountain in the middle of the city square, soon joined by the other companies. As they gathered closely around Vicis, who had climbed on the edge of the fountain wall to be able to be seen by all, 49 noticed multiple curious pairs of eyes spectating them.

“Augen zu mir und Klappe zu!” Vicis barked, immediately silencing all the ongoing chatter. “As I said, I will now inform you about the upcoming changes regarding the organization of our unit.

“You all probably heard rumors about the upcoming changes, and that they are going to completely change how the army works and rearrange units. Let me calm all of you that feared such changes; the reorganization only involves the fields of responsibility, not the size or composition of units. To start off, the goal of the reform is to make the smaller units more independent and flexible, to increase our overall combat effectiveness and to adapt to the changing nature of war.”

Vicis pulled a piece of paper from one of his uniforms pockets and began unfolding it. “Firstly, the leadership roles of officer ranks will be changed. Platoons will no longer be led by drone Unteroffizieren, but by Leutnanten and Oberleuntnanten.”

Murmurs went through the crowd.

“Unteroffiziere will lead sections now, and the soldiers that lead the sections will lead squads,” Vicis spoke, raising his voice to silence the murmurs. “The raised demand for officers will be fulfilled by reserve officers or new officers that finished their training mere days ago and the need for Unteroffiziere and Gefreite will be fulfilled with field promotions.

“A company will now be led by a Hauptmann, and the Battalion by a Major. The idea behind this is to give the responsibilities the battalion had to the company, and to free the platoons from direct company command, thus creating smaller independent fighting units. The battalion will get a more organizational role, like the regiment has now. About the rank changes, your company leaders will all receive a promotion, as well as I. And as soon as the reform comes into effect, which will be in three days, I will no longer be leading the companies from the front, but from a tent somewhere behind the lines.”

Vicis said the last part with a hint of sadness and defeat in his voice. He had been a frontline officer for all of his career, being transferred behind a desk must have been a rough change for him.

“That was all the changes that affect us directly. The reform includes more changes, but those only matter to the divisions and armies. Lastly, I want to address the pressing issue of reinforcements and replacements. We have suffered greatly in the past days, and you should all be aware that it is only going to continue till this is over. When the regiment reunites, we are also supposed to receive replacements. They will be drones from Ersatz units, transferred to us to refill the ranks. We went over this topic a few times during your training, you know they are not the brothers you grew up with, but you know they will be your new comrades. I trust in your comradery that you will integrate them into your units as we have trained.” He did a pause to let it sink in.

New drones for established units. 49 was sure that it would work out just fine. After all, they were drones like them. Getting a non-drone replacement as leader of an established drone unit, that would be interesting. Expanding on that thought, maybe even the ranks would be filled by non-drone soldiers at some point. The changelings did not only have drones as common soldiers. Regular changelings also existed as soldiers in the military, though only in reserve units. Because the production, raising and training of new drones was quite time intensive, regular changelings were allowed into the army reserve, to be mobilized should the need for more units suddenly arise.

Hundreds of thousands of civilians, trained and ready to be called to arms. It remained to be seen if they would be mobilized, and if drone- and regular units would ever be mixed, or if the reserve units would be kept separate.

“The 8. and the 5. Kompanie will also receive new commanding officers, as their predecessors have courageously fallen for the fatherland.” Vicis looked like he was done, but as the Hauptmann was about to descend from the fountain’s exterior wall his right ear twitched. He stopped himself and looked to his right. Now 49 could hear it as well, a silent humming, still far away but approaching rapidly. All the heads of the 8. Batallion turned to face the source of the sound.

It was a single changeling, speeding towards them as fast as his wings could carry him. He wore a simple uniform, just as tight as the uniform of the aerial infantry for better aerodynamics, but without the bright colors and military insignia. His uniform was held in a simple dark green, with black cuffs, belt and carrying frame to which a flat satchel was attached.

With breakneck speed, the changeling hurled towards the gathered soldiers, coming to a halt dangerously close to Vicis on the fountain statue. Holding tightly to the arms of the statue, the changeling remained for a few seconds, before finally climbing down the statue and giving the Hauptmann a sharp salute, what almost caused him to lose balance on the exterior wall of the fountain.

“Royal courier service, I got a message for,” he fumbled at the satchel on his back, and somehow pulled a tan colored envelope out of it, reading the name of the recipient, “a Hauptmann Vicis of the 8. Infantry Battalion.”

“That would be me,” Said Vicis, slightly perplexed.

Without further words, the courier shoved the envelope into Vicis hands, did another clumsy salute and flew off again.

“Sorry, but I’m in quite a hurry,” was the last thing they heard from him before he was out of earshot.

The curious gazes of the drones turned back to the Hauptmann. Vicis looked back at the drones slightly puzzled as he tore open the envelope. Reading the message inside, Vicis’ eyes grew wider and wider.

“Boys, I think I got more to tell you,” Vicis said after a long period of silence.

“Here it says that I should read the first part out loud to my troops, so sharpen your ears.

“This is an official announcement of the supreme command of the changeling army to her majesty’s brave soldiers and officers. Five days before the publishment of this announcement, the Changeling empire and people got dishonored, insulted and threatened by the Equestrian brood in such a manner, that this invasion was the only adequate answer. Our nothing but peace-loving queen gave the order heavy hearted, but determined after all options of diplomacy were exhausted. Before diplomacy was ended, our beloved and benevolent queen Chrysalis had tried to engage in friendly talks with the Equestrian regime to finally end the tension and secure peace and prosperity for both countries. But her righteous and honorable attempts were brutally rejected, and our hand of friendship and tolerance was met with a fist of contempt, by those who claim to have friendship as state religion. This act of rejection displayed the ponies’ hypocrisy for the whole world to see.

“And as if that was not already a big enough attempt of humiliating our race, the ponies had to go further, threatening with war if we were not to stop all love gathering activities outside of our empires boundaries, practically asking us to be so kind and starve ourselves. To this outmost genocidal demand, we could only react in the outmost violent fashion to defend and ensure the survival of our kind.

“Read this to your subordinates to-“ Vicis stopped abruptly.

“So, for all of you wondering why we are fighting, this is the reason. A little late, but better late than never, am I right?” Vicis said, a slightly nervous tone resonating in his voice.

As he listened to Vicis, 49 was overwhelmed by a feeling of relief. All the uncertainty and anxiety he had felt was suddenly gone. The question of what was going on lingered in the back of his head ever since they left the hive. It had tormented him whenever his brain was not occupied. He had been afraid that they had been militarily attacked and was worried for the wellbeing of their people. But now that he knew what was really going on, 49 was certain that the deaths of his brother during the last days though tragic, were nothing less but an absolute necessity if they as a people wanted to persist.

However, this relief quickly gave way to wave of hatred,

Vicis put the paper into his left uniform pocket. “Let’s show these pastel abominations that we won’t just lay down and die. Let’s show them the wrath of the changelings!”