Infiltrating the Infiltrators [Comment-driven story]

by BurgerFanMan

Rating: teen
Tags: Profanity, Violence, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Equestria at War, Alternate Universe, Thriller, Original Character, Mystery, Comedy
Length: 26671

Equestrian agency S.M.I.L.E is running out of turncoat changelings to spy on the Changeling Lands' war machine, but unicorn Agent Cold Strike will do just fine... right?

Comments will be counted at midnight every Wednesday, UTC-0. On hiatus while I work on another project! Thank you for your patience.

This is a comment-driven story! Each chapter features multiple choices at the end that commentators can vote on. The story can also be read like any other fic.

This fic is set in the universe of Equestria At War.

Death, profanity, violence, and sex tags are because I have no idea where this story might end up- they are not the main feature of the fic.

The Great War staggers on, but things are looking up for the United Ponies' Alliance. Vanhoover has just been liberated, Yakyakistan still stands, and Stalliongrad has just joined the fight against Chrysalis and her war clique. Meanwhile, on less violent theaters of the war...

S.M.I.L.E (Special Military Intelligence League of Equestria) has a problem. Specifically, two problems.

Their changeling agent infiltrating the so-called Great Queen's Tower has been discovered and captured.

There are no more available changeling agents to infiltrate the Queen's Tower.

Luckily for them, a new recruit has just finished training- former Vanhoover cop Agent Cold Strike. She's competent, deadly (well, she will be now that she's out of training!), and good at getting dirty work done. Minor issue- she's a unicorn.

It's time to get creative.

Will Agent Cold Strike manage to blend into the experts of blending in? Will she find what she's looking for? What is she looking for? An end to the war? A promotion? LOVE!?!?!!? That's for you to decide!

As you can tell, this one is going to have a goofy, all-around lighthearted tone, but the decisions made by the collective hivemind of the comment section will still have significant effects on the story- a series of misinformed decision could lead to a quick ending! Choose wisely.

The available options will be laid out as a series of multiple choices at the end of the chapter, marked A, B, etc. Vote simply by declaring one of the letters in the comments (along with any other observations you may have). These votes will be tallied at every Tuesday, at 12:00 PM (midnight) at GMT-0/UTC-0. A chapter with no votes will default to A (which will be the most 'reasonable'/safest option by default). Tied options will be chosen by dice roll.

Feel free to leave your thoughts, feedback, and criticisms in the comments.

Published 2024-06-08 03:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-09-22 04:17:53 UTC

Chapter 11: The Terms and Conditions

"Just, uh, take a look at this, will you?" You levitate over the very important Documenttm.

Captain Konrad regards it suspiciously, but his curiosity quickly wins over him and he grabs it with a hoof. The only thing that gives away he's registered anything as he reads is a slight widening in his eyes.

"Get inside," he orders calmly.

You scoff. "What happened to, uh, shooting me? Change your mind?"

"Get inside, then you can rant at me. There's too many eyes here." You can't say for sure, but you think Konrad is getting nervous. His eyes flick from side to side and his wings twitch slightly, as if he's ready to leap into the air at any moment.

Or into the ceiling, rather.

You decide to trust and trot into the apartment. Konrad ushers you through the entrance hall into a lounge. There's an attached kitchen, an open closet door, and two doors that lead to what you guess are bedrooms. A dim light bulb shines from the ceiling.

"You have a partner?" you guess.

Konrad glares at you. "Where did you get this?" he asks, ignoring your attempt at pleasantries.

You dust off some cigarette ash from a couch and make yourself comfortable. This is going to take a while and you don't think Konrad is the type to offer you a seat. "That's not important. What I need is-"

"The fuck you mean that's not important? Do you think I'm stupid? How many laws did you break to get your filthy hooves on this?" Konrad remains standing, document in hoof. He almost seems personally offended.

You try to steer the conversation back in a favourable direction. "I just found it. You don't need to know how."

"Damn ponies... fine. Why did you show me this? I could turn you into the authorities right now and get a tidy bonus, you know?"

"You won't, though," you guess. "You don't want to help the gover- to help Chrysalis."

Captain Konrad hits back with a response almost immediately. "Don't gamble, pony. On a good day you would already be in 'Guard custody. Luckily for you, I'm feeling reckless."

"...great. So, uh, what do you know-"

"Oh no, pony, you're not the one asking the questions here. What's your name?" Konrad sits next to you and fishes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his disorderly uniform.

"I'm- Cold Heart." You almost said Cold Strike, but there's no reason to give away your identity now. You're starting to feel unsettled. You're the one with the information, and yet Konrad is acting like he's in charge of the conversation. He wouldn't really turn you in... right?

Konrad lights a cigarette. He doesn't offer any to you. "And who do you work for?"

"My family, uh, owns a gold mine back in-"

"Bullshit! Who do you work for?" Konrad cuts you off again with a mildly amused tone. "Imperial? Smile? O.H.S? S.S.G.R?"

"None of them! No!" You respond in a panic. Konrad knows you're a spy, and he has your cover name. "I'm just a businessmare."

"You're as much a businessmare as I am a baker. Fine, don't talk. You're only making it harder for yourself." Konrad hoofs over the document, much to your relief. "We can work together. Yeah," he mutters mostly to himself.

"So you'll, uh, help me?" you reply more hopefully.

"Sure, call it that." Konrad leans closer to you. You can see a myriad of tiny cracks across the left side of his face, as if it suffered a blunt injury a long time ago.

"I'll help you. But you have to do exactly as I say."

That's... menacing. "I'm, uh, not sure about-"

Konrad coughs out ash-filled smoke. He inhales with a rasp. "You're going to report everything you find to me. Who you see, where you're going, anything suspicious you spot. Any info you get, it goes through me first. I don't give a shit about your mission and I'm not going to interfere with it. This nation is crumbling anyways."

You rally your courage. You can't let him boss you around like this. "And if I don't?"

Konrad stares at you. "I go to the authorities."

"And you don't get any info," you counter.

"I get a tidy little bonus and a few favours. I can use those to disappear, get out of here before the ponies come knocking. Either way I win."

You can't tell if he's bluffing, but his logic is sound. He has you cornered.

"How about a compromise? I give you any info that doesn't jeopardize my mission- which, by the way, doesn't exist because I'm just looking for a loan- and you help me out with this."

"Sure," Konrad agrees coolly.

That was weirdly easy.

"Right, uh. What do you know about these demonstrations? They seem big, so, uh, surely you've heard something?"

He leans back, suddenly seeming a lot less menacing. "They're testing something, Cold Heart. Or rather, they're done testing it and they want to use it, but they need funds. People. Resources. You're right, it's big. Big enough to win a war."

Your breath catches. "Win a war? But, uh, what kind of technology could just win a war for someone?"

Konrad's hoof shakes slightly as he relights his cigarette. "I don't know."

A weapon that could win a war... is that why the Director chose to personally speak with you? Does S.M.I.L.E know something you don't? Or is this just the scientists creating a fuss over nothing to get the resources they want? You can't think of any single item that could shift a war alone. Weapons need supply chains, distribution routes, and most of all, raw material- material the Changeling Lands sorely lacks.

"I need to get to this 'royal demonstration', Captain. It's important." Now that he's no longer threatening you you feel much more confident. It's your turn to make demands.

"How am I supposed to help with that? I'm a ship captain, not an energy scientist."

You shrug. "I, uh, don't know. Don't you have connections? People you can, uh, get favours from?"

Konrad puts his hoof on his chin thoughtfully. "If we... pony, come back later. Shoo, get out of my apartment."

"What?"

"I need to think. Get out, we can talk later." He stands up and guides you to the door.

You comply hesitantly. You were getting tired of inhaling cigarette ash anyways. "How are we going to talk? I can't come to the Complex every time, it looks suspicious-"

"Handing someling you know nothing about a document you're not supposed to have was the definition of suspicious. Anyways, you won't have to do that. Just come to the State Bank."

You both reach the door. Having nothing else to say, you turn to leave.

"Oh, and Cold Heart?"

You stop and look back.

Captain Konrad grins sardonically. "I don't have a partner."

He slams the door shut.

Getting back into the Tower is much easier than the stress-filled entry you had yesterday. You just flash your entry card at the entrance and wait patiently as your saddlebags are searched. The guard gives the thin folder containing the intelligence you've gathered only a quick look-over from the outside.

You wonder if the Eisenwagen could have received your message already and sent a reply. You find that highly unlikely given it's only been a few hours, but you don't have anything better to do. Well, you could eat lunch, but the stairwell is on the way anyhow.

Ignoring the usual stares and pointing- do changelings have any manners?- you trot over to the stairwell and push the doors open.

An annoyed-looking, uniformed Ella sits next to a pair of freshly installed, heavy metal doors where the entrance to the underground area once was. The doors look like something out of a bank rather than a maintenance closet.

"You!"

"Ella," you greet her warily. Even though she helped you last time you met, you did try to kill each other.

"Hey, I stuck my neck out for you. No need to be such a jackass," she grumbles. "I'm your 'customer support agent', remember?"

Damn, Eisenwagen works fast.

"Uh, is there anywhere safe we can talk...?" Standing around and chatting at the bottom of a stairwell doesn't feel very spy-ish.

Ella looks around. "Honestly? This place seems pretty chill. If anyling comes by we can pretend we were just passing through."

"Right..." You don't want to admit it, but Ella seems a lot younger than you, yet got the upper hand in combat in seconds when you two fought. Your time in the police and in S.M.I.L.E training meant nothing. "So, uh, what do you know about the stuff you gave me? There was a reason behind it, right?"

Ella blinks. "Oh... I thought you could tell us. I knew it was important, and you seemed like you were looking for it..."

You facehoof. "You don't know anything about it? What the dates mean, what they're, uh, testing down there?"

"They're testing something!?"

A veritable goldmine of information, this one.

"Ok, let's back up. What were you, uh, doing there?"

"I'm a fucking guard, aren't I?" Ella motions to her uniform in an annoyed fashion.

She goes from confused to annoyed faster than someone who's just been hit on the muzzle.

"Yeah, I uh, guessed that part, but what do you really do? Who are these Eisenwagen?"

"They manufacture buttons for the teddy polar bear factory," Ella answers seriously.

"What?"

"We're a resistance organization, you daft- We fight the government. Wasn't that obvious?"

Your eye twitches. "I, uh, guessed that. But what do you do? What are your numbers? Where do you, uh, operate?"

Ella stands up aggressively. "Sounds like questions a monarchist would want to know the answer to."

"Or an ally," you counter, trotting forward so you're muzzle to muzzle with Ella. She's slightly shorter than you.

"An ally who has given me zero reason to trust her, has provided nothing of value, and-"

The doors to the lobby swing open, startling both of you. You and Ella stare as a changeling in a business suit trots past, going up the stairs.

You wait till his hoofsteps fade away. "Ok, uh, let's calm down. I want to help you guys if you're, uh, really fighting the government. But we, uh, need to trust each other first. How do I prove that to you?"

Ella takes a deep breath and pouts. "I didn't mean to- I mean I don't- gah, words. You're right. We need to trust each other. I'm pretty sure you can trust me after I y'know, gave you that secret stuff, helped you escape, et cetera, et cetera, but I need to trust you.

"We're doing a... I guess you'd call it a mission? We're planting bombs in a nearby ammunition depot day after tomorrow, in preparation for a future mission. You wanna come?"

Planting bombs. That sounds serious. If the Eisenwagen is bold enough to sabotage the military, they must be able to help you...

"What would you want me to, uh, do specifically?" You need to be cautious.

Ella shrugs. "I dunno if I can tell you the details and shit, but we need an extra set of hooves on the bait team."

"The bait team," you repeat, unamused.

"You'll just be running around, drawing the guards to one side of the depot while we plant the bombs. Don't worry, our best 'lings will be with you. It'll be fun!" Ella seems almost excited.

You're a bit more skeptical. 'Run away from changelings with guns' is not really your preferred pastime. There must be a better way to get the Eisenwagen on your side.

Still, this could give you an insight into the Eisenwagen and help build up your trust with them...

You might want to ask for a safer role but that could end up backfiring and making you look untrustworthy or weak.

It's time to choose...

What will you do about Ella's offer?

A - Agree to join her on the mission with the role of 'bait'.
B - Ask for a safer role but still agree to join her.
C - Turn down her offer.

Option A wins the vote with 75% of 4 total votes.

Author's Note

Hey all! Thank you for reading once again.

Here's some random thoughts- skip over it if you want to. I've realized that splitting things into chapters is very difficult in this format, what with having to end each chapter in a choice. It means the climax of a chapter is at its end and the next chapter's start weirdly enough, and places where a chapter would conventionally be ending are instead in the middle of the actual chapters.

Another thing. Writing in second person has become strangely natural, though it felt weird at first. I hope y'all have gotten used to reading it too.

Random thoughts over. As always, feedback and votes in the comments.

Chapter 1: Choices, choices...

You breathe in the sweet Vesalipolis air as you step out of your taxi onto Tower Plaza into a huge crowd.

And immediately cough it back up. Unlike most high-level government secretariats, the Great Queen's Tower is situated right in the middle of Vesalipolis city rather than in some wealthy enclave. The greyish smog of a factory complex taints the otherwise bright visage of Tower Plaza.

The plaza itself is a huge park with several main streets of the city meeting at a roundabout that runs along its edge. That damn taxi driver dropped you almost directly opposite the Great Queen's Tower itself- a massive skyscraper that easily takes up the skyline even amongst Vesalipolis' spires and towering apartment buildings. You turn to complain to the driver- you paid to be delivered right to the tower- but he's already gone.

Changelings. Assholes.

On the bright side, a walk through the park will give you time to think and walk yourself through the operation. You clutch your coat tightly and set off through the massive gilded gates, ignoring surprised stares and piercing glares by other passerbys. The path to the tower is a wide, straight avenue, flanked by all manner of shops, cafes and restaurants, but it feels too exposed. Eventually you find a group of smartly dressed changelings too absorbed in conversation to notice you, and tag along close behind them.

After a few minutes of walking, the panic of being around so many changelings wears off, as you're lulled into a trance by the rhythmic beating of hoofsteps and chatter of early-morning commuters. You review the operation in your head.

Cross the changeling border through a weak checkpoint in Olenia; done that. A squad of less expendable agents escorted you on a secret ship into Olenia, then gave you documents that would let you cross into the Changeling Lands easily. That was the easiest part of the mission.

Stay low and very slowly make your way to Vesalipolis to familiarize yourself with changeling culture. It was surprisingly easy to get odd jobs as a charcoal-coated, blue-haired unicorn (Changeling colours! Neat.)- the upper class changeling populace has become used to poor deer and ponies from Olenia seeking work. Most of them were nice enough, but you only stayed with them for a few days at a time, before boarding a train or hitchhiking onwards to the next hive.

Use one of your pre-prepared identities to get an excuse to visit the Great Queen's Tower regularly.

Find and copy important documents or other notable events at your discretion.

Leave at your discretion, when the situation heats up, or when you find Agent Mesocoxa; the changeling spy who disappeared.

Win the war! Or, well, help it along. At the very least, S.M.I.L.E will give you a hefty bonus once you return home. Heck, you might even knighted. 'Lady Cold Strike'. You can only dream.

The smartly dressed changelings stop abruptly as you exit the park. Moving around them, you see why- the roundabout. Cars and trucks whizz past at unbelievable speeds, all proudly displaying either the Changeling or more often than not, the logo of the Grifforian Reich Automobile company.

Across the road sits the Great Queen's Tower. An amalgamation of steel and glass, cleverly engineered to mimic a hive carved from a mountain. You can't even turn your head far enough to see the peak of this monolith. "Balconies and windows stick out almost haphazardly from the sides of the tower, with countless external staircases and hallways connecting presumably high-traffic parts of the tower.

The entrance to the tower is an outdoor lobby seemingly cut right out of its base, allowing for vehicles to directly unload their occupants at the entrance. Three entire lanes are needed to facilitate this what with the constant stream of bureaucrats, insanely wealthy tenants, and simply tourists coming and going.

Porters and welcoming parties escort these guests, guiding the flow of ponies, deer, and changelings- no, people as you will have to call them, through the giant open doors of the tower. A statue of Chrysalis herself wolfishly grins at the people parting around her. Smug bastard.

There's a large fenced-off area with several smaller buildings next to the tower- likely staff quarters and administration for maintaining the building itself. A truck loaded with garbage exits the area.

A crowd has built up on your side of the crosswalk, waiting for the traffic to ebb, and you're stuffed between two important-looking changelings in- damn, that is a SNAZZY military outfit. Full black coat, grey collar and cuffs, gold-embroidered officers' cap, purple eyes- ah, something is happening.

A full squad of changeling soldiers blocks the traffic, pushing heavy barriers onto the street in practiced, fluid motions, and waves ahead the crowd. It's no wonder why- a single vehicle could effortlessly kill or injure several high-ranking officials just by refusing to stop. As you get closer to the tower you notice more security. There are soldiers everywhere, military vehicles parked deliberately to control pedestrian movement, and you even spot a couple of changeling Queen's Guards- Chrysalis' personal military unit.

You're feeling more confident with every step as you cross the street, hidden in the crowd- if changeling intelligence was watching you, they'd have nabbed you before you got into their most important government building.

You're in the clear. Good job.

"Ma'am! You, the unicorn with the blue hair in the suspicious coat! No, the other one! Yes, you. Get over here!"

You're stopped by a soldier, likely military police judging by the uniform, at the other end of the road. As you leave the relative safety of the crowd you feel a sense of rising dread. Should you fight? Should you run? Where can you run? Will-

The changeling grabs you by the coat and pulls you behind a military truck too fast for you to react, out of sight of the commuters. Another military police changeling is standing there, smoking a cigarette. He eyes the two of you curiously.

You open your mouth to protest at this pseudo-foalnapping, but the soldier speaks first.

"Pony. You'll be coming to the Tower often?"

You silently nod as you try figure out what this could be. A random security check? The soldier keeping you busy while the intelligence agency shows up?

The soldier slowly nods back, as if thinking. "You can leave now, ma'am."

That was... weird. You awkwardly back away from the soldier.

"Wait! Pony. You are in danger." His tone is much more urgent, almost threatening.

Finally! The part where they dramatically throw a bag over your head, tie all your legs up with a single rope, and throw you into a bus.

The soldier looks at you seriously, fins twitching nervously. "There are 'lings who want to see Her Majesty's Tower free of ponies and deer. Do not make yourself a target. If you need help, you can trust the Reichsarmee. We will protect you. Now go. The Queen wills it!"

"The Queen wills it," you mumble back. You leave and rejoin the throng of people steadily marching to the lobby. What just happened? It seemed too specific and almost scripted. Was the intelligence agency trying to get your guard down? Or is there genuinely a threat that you need to watch out for?

In any case, no changeling would be sympathetic to a pony like you. He's using you for something or the other. You try to make it the rest of the way without attracting any attention.

The crowd filters into lines at the stairs leading up to the entrance. A soldier gives you a quick patdown, then asks for your entrance card. Oops. You don't have one. He gives you an unamused look and points at a series of desks arranged against the side wall. Each one has a queue lining up to get an entrance card.

Great, in the span of five minutes you've unnecessarily called attention to yourself twice. You excuse yourself and hop down to grab a card.

After waiting in queue for a few minutes it's your turn. The receptionist bares her fangs at you. Or maybe she's just smiling. It's hard to tell with changelings, they're all ugly anyways.

"Why, hello! May I know who I'm speaking with, ma'am?"

This is it. You consider which identity to use. You can pose as a changeling with an emotional attachment to a certain disguise- you do have all the relevant papers forged to deal with the legal hassle that comes with permanently disguising yourself. Or, you can pretend to be a pony collaborator. Those are rare but not unheard of, especially with the changeling occupation of parts of Equestria.

For either option there are multiple identities to choose from. Some of them are riskier, but may get you access to more private areas...

It's time to choose.

You introduce yourself as...

Which identity will you use to infiltrate the Great Queen's Tower?
A - Cold Heart, a pony businessmare looking to expand her gold mine with direct investment from the Changeling government.
B - Fatal Strike, a pony mercenary. She's reporting to the military after a successful mission.
C - Former Corporal Coldors, a changeling war veteran meeting with his military friends and finishing some business with the Veteranenabteilung.
D - Coldors, a female changeling lawyer who is lobbying on behalf of certain groups for changes to the love rationing.
E - Captain Coldors, a middle-ranking female changeling officer visiting from Olenia.

Option A wins the vote with 66.67% of 6 total votes.

Author's Note

And so it begins! For my convenience, please do begin your comment with the letter A/B/C/D/E so I can easily tally up the votes! Remember, voting closes at midnight UTC-0 on Tuesday. That's about three days of voting. Choose wisely!

Chapter 2: Sleeping in the Lion's Den

"Cold Heart. I'm from Changeling-occupied Equestria."

Cold Heart. S.M.I.L.E made special preparations for this identity. You have everything you need that 'proves' your family has owned a gold mine for decades- in fact, the Heart family and the gold mine itself are very real, though it's unlikely the Changeling government has any records of them. If the changelings do decide to investigate for whatever reason, they'll find everything to be in order.

The only thing that would disprove your story would be if they sent someone to talk to the Heart family, had a lengthy discussion about their future plans, and found out that Cold Heart, their daughter, is actually living safely in Canterlot under the Equestrian government.

Overall, this is the safest bet, even if it limits your access to the military side of Great Queen's Tower heavily.

The receptionist raises an eyebrow- stretches her eye- one of her eyes expands upwards ever so slightly in an approximation of raising one's eyebrows. Phew. Changeling facial expressions are uncanny caricatures of normal pony expressions.

"You mean the territory of the Provisional Protectorate of Freed Equestria?"

"Yes. That."

"Well, Miss Cold Heart, I'll need your identification papers and travel papers."

You ruffle through your saddlebags and pull out the relevant miniature booklets containing your documents, double-checking to make sure you're not handing over the papers of some other identity. You've heard enough horror stories from the S.M.I.L.E instructors to risk making such a devastating mistake.

The receptionist's horn lights up as she floats your papers over and begins going through them. At the same time, she telekinetically lifts up a pen and starts filling out a form on the table.

You whistle appreciatively. Those are impressive multitasking skills. She's not even looking at the form she's filling out!

"Your papers seem to be in order, so I'm just noting down your details here. You'll need to show this to enter the Tower, then immediately go and submit it to the entry card office- it's directly to the right of the interior lobby. They'll get a card printed for you, and confirm that your business here is relevant. If you're a tourist, you'll need to pay a fee for the one-day card."

The receptionist rips out the form and practically throws back the form and booklets. "Have a great day, ma'am. Chrysalis wills it. Next!"

You shuffle past the lines queuing at other receptionist desks and stand in a relatively quiet part of the outdoor lobby as you recheck the details on the form the receptionist gave you. Her handwriting is so immaculate that you can't tell apart what's handwritten and what's printed.

BY CONFIRMATION OF HER MAJESTY'S ABTEILUNG FÜR IDENTIFIKATION, THE FOLLOWING DETAILS ARE RELEVANT AND CORRECT FOR THE HOLDER OF THIS DOCUMENT.

NOTE THAT THE HOLDER OF THE DOCUMENT IS A NON-CHANGELING.

Name: Cold Heart of the Heart family.
Given Name: Cold Heart
Father's Name: Loyal Heart
Spouse's Name: N/A
Nationality: Changeling Lands
Age: 35 (B-24/10/0977)
Sex: F
Appearance: Dark grey coat, grey horn, blue mane, green pupils, white markings around hooves
Place of Stay: N/A

Purpose of visit: TBD
Document status: Travel papers must be verified.

THIS DOCUMENT SHOULD BE DISCARDED AFTER USE AND SHOULD NOT BE CONSIDERED VALID IF SUBMITTED AFTER TODAY (2/10/1013)

'Nationality: Changeling Lands'? You suppose they can't just put you down as 'Equestrian'. It would damage Chrysalis' ego too much to be reminded that Equestria still exists. Ah, well, at least you got the form without much hassle. The receptionist didn't notice anything wrong with your papers either.

You rejoin one of the queues to enter the Tower. The guard- a different one from the one who turned you away earlier- barely looks at your form before waving you through the rotating metal door. So much for identification.

You breathe a sigh of relief at the heated interior as you enter... yet another security checkpoint, this one in a small, rather unremarkable hall- though the ceiling is astoundingly high. It's no wonder the queues are so long with this much security. A trio of visibly tired Queen's Tower guards are patting down changelings and searching their saddlebags.

The saddlebags.

The saddlebags.

You forgot to get rid of the unused identification papers. Idiot. Absolute moron. You can't exactly shrug off having a pile of travel paper booklets, identification cards, and passports in your bag. The line ahead of you slowly dwindles as you struggle to think of some way you can get yourself out of this mess.

Panic. Panic and dread is all you can feel. What if you just try to leave-

"Hey, pony! It's your turn. Stop wasting everyling's time," the changeling behind you snarls. He's wearing an expensive-looking business suit.

"Right- right, sorry." You step in front of one of the guards. Your panic must be obvious to him- changelings are experts at reading emotions, and the guard appears old and wizened too. He smiles reassuringly at you as he pats you down.

"Don't worry, ma'am, this is just a routine check. You have nothing to worry about. May I see your saddlebags?"

...

"N-no?" You mumble.

"Um. I'll have to insist on searching them, ma'am." The guard is starting to get suspicious. You can see the edges of his mouth turning down into a frown.

You try to think of something, anything, to prevent the bags from being searched.

"The- well- I- I'm not allowed to-"

The guard leans in closer and whispers, "Ma'am, is someone following you? Do you need help?"

Praise be to Celestia and Luna and whatever gods the griffons worship, they have brought you sheer and pure SALVATION.

You nod very slightly, trying to contain your inner glee and relief.

"Come with me, ma'am. The rest of the queue, please wait. We apologize for the delay."

There's a staff-only door to the side of the hall. The guard leads you through it amidst the collective groans of the rest of the queue.

The door leads to a small security room with a few chairs, a desk, a water dispenser, a rack for guns, and a wiring box labelled 'alarm system'. Another changeling, this one in a fancier version of the Tower Guard uniform- a senior, you guess- is going through some documents at the desk, facing the wall.

"Sir. This lady says she's being followed."

You take the opportunity to rapidly dispense your unneeded papers into a large dustbin, as neither of the changelings are looking at you. You're slightly giddy at how the situation turned around and find the thought of a janitor discovering the papers in the security room exceedingly hilarious.

"Uhuh... you know the protocol, take her to the central security ro- oh, it's a fucking pony. Get her out of here before she grabs a gun and blows our heads off, yeah?" The changeling at the desk finally turns to face you.

"The weapons rack is locked, sir," observes the guard. "I don't think ponies can materialize ammunition out of thin air, either."

You're warming up to the guard. He's not that bad. For a changeling.

"Yeah, yeah, just- get that thing out of my sight. Kick her out."

The guard salutes and escorts you back out of the security room. He smiles at you apologetically.

"Sorry, ma'am, I should have anticipated that. I can't kick you out of the tower in good conscience, but I can't waste anymore time helping you, either. You'll need to go to the central security station. Now, can I search your saddlebags?"

"Oh, yeah. I'll be fine. Thanks. Thank you."

You can't believe changelings are this gullible. He's completely satisfied with searching your saddlebags and doesn't ask any questions about why you were so defensive about it earlier. The guard doesn't even a bat an eye at the amount of money you're carrying with you- though given how many rich changelings visit the Great Queen's Tower everyday, he probably sees moneybags of cash twice this large on a daily basis.

Paper money is so much more convenient than bits. You file that away as the one good invention changelings have made that they didn't steal from the Griffonian Reich.

The guard inspects your sheathed knife for a moment before handing the saddlebags back to you.

"Thank you for your patience, ma'am. Remember, the central security station is right off the lobby. You can't miss it. Chrysalis wills it."

"Chrysalis wills it."

The changeling who's been waiting behind you for so long sighs in relief as you move past the guard through the open wooden doors at the end of the hall.

Oh. Big.

The lobby is indescribably massive and stunningly lit. The ceiling is shrouded by the darkness though, giving the impression it goes on forever.

The lobby is more of a three-story atrium surrounded by only the most costly, high-class restaurants and cafes, able to afford what must be the highest rents in the world. Three separate receptionist desks, each with multiple changelings staffing them, are embedded into the walls of the atrium, with another one directly in front of you.

Behind said desk, in the middle of the polished marble floor, is a towering statue of Chrysalis in the middle of a fountain, water flowing from her horn. Unlike the statue outside this one has Chrysalis in her Changeling Navy uniform and is painstakingly plated with coloured metal representing her iconic black-and-green chitin.

The upper two stories run as a balcony around the center of the atrium, ending at the opposite wall from the entrance. Here hangs the flag of the Changeling Lands- a black trident with a crooked center prong, shaped like Chrysalis' horn, two blue wings erupting from the side against a clear white background.

And below that, a poster shows Chrysalis triumphantly standing over the entirety of Equus.

The ego is strong with this one...

It's this poster that shakes you out of your awed trance. You note a more important detail.

Despite the sheer size of the atrium, you can't spot a single support pillar. It gives you the uneasy feeling that the entire structure is permanently on the verge of collapsing.

Shaking your head to clear those thoughts, you trot towards the receptionist desk directly in front of you. The lobby mercifully spreads out the crowds so you don't have to worry about brushing into a stray fin or accidentally bumping into someone.

At least, until something grabs onto your right foreleg. You raise it to observe a tiny changeling nymph clinging to the leg, wide bright eyes staring straight at your face. It gives you a goofy grin.

Disgusting. A little changeling vermin. You try to shake it off, but it clings on even tighter.

"W-w-why don't you have holes in your legs weird-looking-miss I mean not weird in a bad way because that would be rude and we aren't supposed to be rude 'specially not on a trip like this I like your mane and your tail it looks pretty cool-"

Can't... shake off... tiny changeling...

"-hey aren't you a pony Mister Snap told us ponies are kind of brightly coloured but you're not very bright you're honestly kind of normal coloured which is cool too I think you'd pass as a changeling if someone looked at you from very far away your fur is pretty soft though it's like cotton but not are you a spy do you have a spy gun and sunglasses like in that movie about a pony who's a spy and tries to kidnap Her Majesty but she uses her powers to defeat him and save the day yippeeeeeeee!"

The nymph finally stops to breathe. You use this opportunity to peel it off with your other foreleg and hold it up by the neck to your face.

"Listen up, little guy. Our legs are heavier because they don't have holes, right? All the better for stomping little 'lings who don't have a concept of personal space. Now, where's your, uh, dad or whatever?"

Good job, Agent Cold Strike! You went from an about-to-be-discovered nervous wreck to threatening foal murderer in less than a minute. The academy would be so proud.

"That would be me, mare." A tired-looking changeling stallion has shoved his way through the crowds and stands in front of you, wings and fins twitching in a telltale sign of worry. About a dozen more nymphs are crowding around his legs, generally chatting and playing or simply looking around.

"The urge for violence practically oozes off you," he observes drily as he extracts the pouting nymph from your foreleg.

Now this is bad. You don't want to draw attention to yourself, especially not by threatening someone's nymph. You're a pony, you're supposed to be all happy and friendship-y!

Why does he have so many nymphs with him anyways-? Nevermind that, you've interacted suspiciously with four separate 'lings already. You'd better apologize and explain it was a joke.

The changeling just smiles at you, though. "I'm pulling your leg. I'm Snap."

"Snap," you repeat.

"Yes indeed. I'm, uh, not the father of any of these little 'lings, but I'm one of the caretakers at their nursery. We raise changelings communally- we rarely see our parents, unlike with you ponies. Thank you for taking care of Aspen who shouldn't have run away in the first place."

Aspen looks up at the two of you innocently. "I wanted to see the pony!"

Mr. Snap sighs, shaking his head. "They're all spoiled. Back in my day nurseries were... oh, sorry, I didn't even- what's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"

Given how well the situation turned out- you learned an important detail about changelings which probably should have been in your briefer before you started the operation- you're in a decent mood. You raise your voice a little to be heard above the din of the lobby and the nymphs.

"I'm A- I'm Cold Heart. Nice to meet you, Mr. Snap."

"Oh, please, it's just Snap. Where are you headed, Cold Heart? What brings you to the heart of the Changeling empire? Hanz, do not pull on Aspen's wings!" Snap rubs his forehead in exasperation.

"I'm here for business. I was just about to go get my entry card printed. Uh, enjoy your trip."

"We're here for a couple more days. I'll see you around, Cold Heart?"

"Sure..."

You carefully step around the nymphs and finally manage to approach the desk. One of the receptionists has clearly overheard your conversation. He gives you an amused smile and points behind you.

"The entry card office is to the right of the entrance."

You look around and spot the office, nestled in the perfect location for someone who's just entered the Tower to not notice it. It has a fancy glass door and a large illuminated sign above it.

You're not sure why the sign needs to be illuminated, given how the lobby is lit by artificial lights at all time.

The office is a small space with a couple of sofas, a radio, and a table laid with refreshments. The only thing that separates it from a regular lounge is the desk with a bored changeling manning it and an open doorway where you can hear some changelings chittering and the whirring of machinery.

"Form," he asks without looking up from a magazine he's reading. You float it over to the desk with your telekinesis.

"I'm here to get some investment from the government."

Hearing your Equestrian accent, the changeling perks up. He carefully sets aside his magazine and looks over the form.

"A pony, huh? I just got somepony like you earlier in the morning, before the morning commuters arrived. Your form seems to be in order. I need some additional details before we print out your card. You're here for investment, you said?"

"Yes. I have the ownership documents of a gold mine-"

The changeling smirks at you. "That won't be necessary. We don't need any special proof to provide such a basic entry card- you'll only need access to the most public parts of the Tower. I'm putting you down for a one-month stay, but you can get the card extended at any time if you still have work to do." He trots over to the back room and hoofs the form over to someone before returning. "That'll take a couple of minutes to get printed. Do you know where you want to go, pony?"

You shrug. "I thought I'd look for the provincial bank for changeling-occupied Equestria."

"Ooo yeah, pony, about that. We don't have any."

"Oh. You have a bank for each of the other provinces."

The changeling grins viciously, pleased at having surprised you. "Your flower fields and pastures are still an unincorporated territory. There are some other organizations you can go to, though. The State Bank of Pax Chrysalia is a brand new organization, but they did shift some quite high-ranking officials to its office here in the Queen's Tower. I heard they were fuming about losing their cushy old jobs, but you can't weasel your way out of a direct order from Her-"

You've heard quite enough. Disgruntled desk workers can be exploited and manipulated... "Alright, I'll visit them, then."

"Not so fast, pony." The changeling ruffles through some papers in a desk and pulls out two brochures. "Take a look at these, too. There's nothing stopping you from approaching multiple organizations, but if both are serious about your investment or whatever you could get caught up in a interdepartment rivalry. Then you'll be stuck here forever, pony."

One is for the Organisation zum Wiederaufbau von Equus- Rebuilding Equus- which seems to be a fund for developing changeling-occupied lands and the Olenian and Polar Bear Protectorates. It's a quite well-established organization which must have deep ties with the civilian and military administration, along with a considerable budget. You flip through the rest of the brochure, reading between the filler to note the names of key individuals you could work with.

The other is...

"'Make a petition to the Queen's Secretariat'?" You look up from the considerably more cartoon-y brochure, featuring an awed changeling in farmer's overalls clutching a pile of gold.

The changeling winks at you. "The Secretariat will go through petitions and find ones that Her Majesty might be interested in. You didn't hear it from me, but Queen Chrysalis quite interested in ponies living under her rule. The Secretariat is almost certain to forward your petition."

Hm. You don't really see any special benefit to meeting the Queen herself, though wild assassination plans do flash through your head. Your more reasonable idea is to use the inevitable weeks waiting for the petition to go through to snoop around the Tower. You doubt you can hold up to special scrutiny of your identity by the Queen, though.

You'll have to think this one through carefully.

It's time to choose.

You set your mind on visiting...

Which government organization will you visit first? You may not get the opportunity to visit other ones!
A - Organisation zum Wiederaufbau von Equus, a well-established fund with deep roots in the changeling government.
B - The State Bank of Pax Chrysalia, an extremely new financial organization whose upper management have a grudge that could be exploited.
C - The Queen's Secretariat, where you can petition to meet the Queen. It'll take a while so it could provide an excuse to stay at the Tower's hotels.

Option B wins the vote with 80% of 5 total votes.

Author's Note

Phew, this one was a lot longer than expected! Don't expect 3k words for every chapter, though- the target is 2k words on average.

I noted from the first chapter that no one voted for the changeling options, which I expected. It was good to see a few votes for option B though. It's interesting to consider how wildly different the story could have gone if another option won.

As always, leave your answers and other thoughts in the comments.

Chapter 3: Wheeeeeee Up We Go

"The State Bank, huh? That wouldn't be my first choice, but you do you, pony."

You appreciatively nod back at the changeling at the desk. Despite his dismissive attitude, he's actually been quite helpful so far.

"I'm hoping to get a good deal from them before they have the experience to scam-"

"Yeah, whatever, your card's been printed." An attendant from the backroom has handed the changeling your entry card. He places it in a slot in a large camera, then heaves the camera onto a tripod. "Say- oh, hey, Queen Chrysalis!"

"Wh-"

Click!

You blink out the flash of the camera, looking around wildly for sneaky egomaniacal dictators. The office is still deserted though, and all you hear is the chirping giggle of the desk changeling as he pulls your card out of the camera.

"Ah, that never gets old. Check that your details are correct, then get out of my office. If you're not satisfied I can get it reprinted."

Fuming slightly, you snatch the card from his hoof with your magic and look over it. On the surface it's a relatively basic card by government standards- a slab of plastic ink-printed with your essential details, along with a tag that simply reads 'Businessmare'. However, looking more closely, you see that the card has a multitude of difficult to replicate security features: a subtle colour shift when you tilt it, tiny ridges along the edge of the card, and other such details.

The photo on the card slowly develops to reveal your surprised face in the process of turning away.

"...I'd like a reprint."

Smirking, the changeling responds, "Reprints are two hundred marks. Each."

Tricky bastard! He wasn't just pranking you, he was trying to get some easy cash. And not a small amount, either... you could easily afford it, but you won't give him the satisfaction of swindling you.

"In that case, thank you for your help. Goodbye."

"Bye, pony. Pop in when your card expires, yeah? And make sure you come during rush hour like now, it's actually a lot less busy somehow. Traffic dynamics or something."

"Uhuh."

The noises of the crowds become more apparent as you exit the office. It's gotten even busier while you were getting the card; there's even some changelings flying abovehead to get past the crowds, despite the danger of collisions.

You can't help but feel some slight elation despite everything. With barely a hiccup, you've gotten a one-month ticket in and out of the Queen's Tower! You've completed half the mission already. In a worst case scenario, you can simply leave and be rewarded for confirming the feasibility of the infiltration plan.

You hum to yourself as you approach a row of large doors to the right of the huge posters at the back of the lobby. A simple sign reads in several languages, 'Elevating Machines.

A strange changeling contraption. You watch as the waiting changelings all bundle through one of the doors into an elevating machine. The door is slid shut by an attendant.

Looking around uneasily, you spot an empty staircase to use. However, before you can make your way there, a voice calls out.

"Hey, you! Fine young pony! This elevator's free. Come along now, it won't bite."

An attendant is waving at you from inside one of the elevators. You reluctantly join him, gasping as the room shakes ever so slightly when you enter.

"Never seen an elevator, missus? Don't worry, it's just a box on a rope. Where are ya headed? You don't look dressed like them- those higher-ups, no you don't."

You awkwardly settle yourself into a corner of the elevator. It seems too huge and heavy to be carried by a mere rope. The fact that this changeling is at ease does nothing to comfort you. Changelings are ridiculously suicidal as a species. You've read enough horror stories in the papers of fanatical changeling tank crews casually exiting bogged down tanks to charge at the pony lines with nothing but a grenade and a spanner.

"Missus? You alright there?" The changeling has crossed a remarkable distance in a short amount of time and is looking you over concernedly. You shrink away from him slightly.

"Hm-? I'm fine. I was just thinking."

The attendant backs up. "Well, I don't mean to pressure ya, but I can't get this thing moving if you don't tell me where yer headed. And you'd better make it quick 'less you want half the morning commute piled in here."

"I'm trying to find the State Bank. Do you know where that is?"

Stroking his chin thoughtfully, the changeling nods. "Thems ju- they've just moved into the forty-third floor. Now, don't be alarmed, but we'll start moving up now. Don't worry, she's seen much heavier cargo than you and your weird pony saddlebags. She'll hold."

You're not concerned about the elevator. You're concerned about being alone with a changeling for several minutes. This would be the perfect time for changeling intelligence to FINALLY make their move on you. You should have taken the stairs.

"Up we go!" The changeling's horn glows. He slides the door shut before an unseen mechanism suddenly shoots the elevator upwards, rattling and shaking as you move at vertical speeds no pony should have to experience.

You REALLY should have taken the stairs.

Mercifully, the force pulls you downwards and keeps your hooves glued to the floor. You just stand in place and let your legs do the balancing.

The changeling smiles warmly at you. "You took that in stride, missus. Many a changeling have deposited their former meals on this fine carpeted floor. The name's Adelheid, by the way."

The 'deposition' comment is starting to make you feel queasy, too.

"I'm Cold Heart," you reply, still staring straight at the floor.

Adelheid hums thoughtfully. "Cold Heart? I'll never get pony names. Half of 'em sound like action heroes, the other half like villains."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? Am I a hero, or a villain?"

"No offense, missus, but that's definitely a villain name right there. Where are ya from?"

Starting to get tired of repeating this story, you reply, "I just have some business with the State Bank."

"You already told me that, but I won't probe into yer affairs."

Your body is starting to get used to the feeling of continously flying upwards. You finally tear your gaze from the floor and look around the elevator. The walls and floor are fashioned like the interior of a lounge, providing a soothing atmosphere to offset the unnerving rumbling and shaking.

"How does this thing work, uh, Adelheid?" The only mechanism you can see is a bright yellow alarm button next to the door. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a bit curious about the whole contraption.

"I'm no engineer, but I believe there's some sort of motor strapped to the roof of the building, wayyy up high. It just tugs a rope along a pulley, and up and down she goes."

"No, I meant... how did you make it go up."

Adelheid chuckles at that. "In most buildings there's a set of buttons along the wall. The attendant just has to push a button, and the elevator moves on its own. Easy as pie. Here, though, it's a bit different. There's a hidden- I say hidden but everyone knows they're there, it's kind of an open secret- set of buttons just above the elevator. It'd be nigh impossible for anyone but an alicorn to push them telekinetically without knowing where they are. Got all that, missus?"

"Wait, then how do you know where the buttons are?"

"They show them to us on our first day. It takes a while, but you get used to it. I've been here for, uh, five months now?"

Interesting. You could ask a bit more about the... oh, the elevator's slowing down. It slows down to a halt and Adelheid slides open the door for you. He tips his hat as you pass.

"'Pleasure serving you, missus Cold Heart. When you need to go back down, use Elevator 4- it stops at every forty-something floor."

"I will, yeah."

You step out onto a small waiting area with a couple of sofas and soft, pleasant lighting. Interestingly, only four of the elevators connect here. A changeling couple are sitting on a sofa, making love-y eyes at each other as they wait for an elevator. Upon your arrival they hastily get up and enter the elevator you just stepped out of.

You vaguely recall a lesson from secondary school that taught that dating practices originated from primitive changelings hunting ponies in pairs. The changelings would prove their worth to each other by capturing a pony and efficiently extracting Love using magic, blahblahblah something about natural selection. You're more concerned with modern changelings than the primitive ones Equestrian education taught you about.

Back then, you barely knew what a changeling was. Popular media portrayed them as primitive bugs hiding out in caves in the north, if they were portrayed at all. Then Princess Cadence's wedding was infiltrated and suddenly they were brought back into the spotlight, only to fade from public memory until changeling Panzers rolled into Equestria.

Wait, what are you doing? This isn't the time for overly direct exposition, go in there and do your mission!

Looking around the room, you find it hard to believe this is the entrance to an office. A pair of open wooden doors leads into a windowless corridor with a red carpeted floor and similar soft lighting. And, sure enough, it's lined with elegantly carved wooden doors and signs with apartment numbers on it. Adelheid must have left you on the wrong floor.

A nearby door opens and out stumbles a changeling. He's clearly drunk, swaying unsteadily and blinking slowly at you. Another changeling exits behind him.

"Slow down, boss. Let's get you home."

"Head hurts..."

"Yeah, boss, nine o'clock isn't the best time to get wasted. I'm happy the bastard is dead, too, but- oh, uh, hey there, unicorn. Don't mind us..."

These changelings are wearing business attire- dark black suits, ties, white shirts, and fedoras... indoors. They look more like they're leaving an office than arriving to one.

"Hey, by any chance do you know where the State Bank is?"

"State Bank of Pax Chrysalia? It's just in here. But, uh, I don't recommend going in there right now."

That's strange. You shrug and try the apartment the changelings just exited.

"That's it! I'm done!"

"Dude, chill. Just-"

"No! Nonononononono! I've given you my reasons. I am DONE. Now where's that damn bastard? If I'm going to the Royal Dungeons I want it to be on murder charges, not because I left Chryssie's fun little project."

You step aside as an angry grey changeling thunders out the door, followed closely by an armed security guard and another changeling. You're currently in the saddest office you've ever seen. A single receptionist desk and a sofa separate you from a cramped space stuffed with desks, filing cabinets, and, most of all, changelings- no, wait, nevermind, there's a deer too. A single floor-to-roof window is present at the opposite wall of the apartment.

All of you stare awkwardly at the door as the sounds of a scuffle leak in, along with enough curse words to turn a sailor red.

Eventually, the door bursts open and the grey changeling is dragged in by the security guard and the other changeling. They unceremoniously dump him on the sofa.

The second changeling addresses the room. "Get back to work. We still need the Duke's loan processed," he growls. "Our good friend Captain Konrad will NOT be going to the Royal Dungeons."

Hmm, what do we have here? A Captain who doesn't want to work here, a room of abused paperpushers, and a toxic manager.

The office workers gradually resume their paperwork. The changeling finally notices you. He frowns at you.

"We didn't ask for a janitor."

"I'm not a-" you start to reply furiously before realizing how you must look. You're still wearing your travelling clothes- not exactly the standard outfit of a wealthy businessmare.

Oh, and you're a pony.

"I'm here to get a loan, or see what other benefits you offer to business owners," you reply more calmly.

The manager's frown deepens. "You picked the wrong time. And we can't you serve in that peasant garb."

PEASANT GARB? Who does this changeling think he is? These are perfectly normal clothes to be wearing when travelling long distances!

Ahem, anyways, outrageous outburst outside, you need to make a decision. You can either come back at later, when the chaos dies down and you've had to chance to book a room and change your clothing, or forge ahead. You would like to talk to Captain Konrad, who's virtually smoking with rage as he pokes a wobbly fang. You could exploit the situation to talk to the other changelings and deer, too, but with the manager closely watching you you doubt you can get much done without arousing suspicion.

It's time to choose...

What will you do now?

A - Leave and return later, after you've booked a room and perhaps explored the Tower a bit more.
B - Absolutely INSIST you get served now.

Option A wins the vote with 60% of 5 total votes.

Author's Note

Woah, only two choices!

I'm making it a rule that less choices will generally mean more consequences in the future. The first two chapters were extremely consequential setups for the story- think of them as 'backstory' options.

Going forward, there'll generally be two types of questions. Low choice, high consequence questions will result in very significant story changes and open or close certain future opportunities, just like the first two chapters did. Meanwhile, high choice, low consequence questions provide fun opportunities, goofy interactions, general backstory, etc. Goofy example: whether to boop a pony, a changeling, a batpony, a deer, or a griffon!

As always, leave your answers and other thoughts in the comments.

Chapter 4: The Liebessammeldienst

You're deep in thought as the elevator descends downwards. The elevator attendant is silent, her muzzle buried in the sports section of a newspaper.

Earlier, you apologized to the floor manager and promised to come another time. The manager didn't even acknowledge you.

The drunk changeling and his companion were nowhere to be found on the way back, either. You had hoped to get some explanation from them.

No matter. A vague plan is forming in your head. If you can exploit the apparent grudge most of the State Bank employees hold towards their manager and Queen Chrysalis, you could gain access to confidential information or even convince someone to give it to you directly. The deer would be the obvious candidate. Changelings are too stubborn and fanatically loyal to betray their beloved Queen.

Until then, you'll need someplace to stay. The Tower has entire floors dedicated to providing hotel rooms, so visitors don't even have to leave for the duration of their stay. If you can't find a room, though, you'll look for other options in the city. Staying in the Great Queen's Tower means more time to spend in the Tower itself, but sending intelligence back to S.M.I.L.E will be risky at best and downright impossible at worst given the level of surveillance they're likely to have.

The elevator comes to a stop and you step out onto the tenth floor. It's a fairly standard luxury hotel lobby, albeit with the ever present changeling décor. The black false roof, glistening grey and green tiles, and lack of any windows contribute to the feeling that the room has been fashioned out of an underground cavern. Changelings have historically lived largely underground here in the north of Equus, where the temperatures regularly drop below freezing even in the summers.

The asthetic only serves to make you feel uncomfortable, though. You're not a fan of the night time or of dark spaces. The changeling accents are a constant reminder that you're in the Changeling Lands, too, if the changelings buzzing around everywhere weren't enough. The occasional chitter or buzz of wings is nauseating.

You jump slightly as you receive a light tap on your barrel. A uniformed changeling is beaming at you, while a more serious, similarly uniformed 'ling stands behind him.

The uniforms are similar to the outfits Changeling soldiers wear when not in combat: a solid grey buttoned shirt tucked over a pair of black pants. Two red pads adorn the changelings' shoulders; one with gold rank markings and the other with a simple grey heart icon.

"Hello, ma'am! We're from the Liebessammeldienst. I'm Cadet Max, and this is Sergeant Friedrich. May I see your Love Tax form, if you're not in a hurry?"

The Liebessammeldienst. The Love Collection Service. They exist purely to collect and distribute Love, which, in a way, makes them the most powerful organization of the Changeling government. By controlling the supply of Love, they can control every changeling under Chrysalis' rule. Or they would if Chrysalis didn't keep them on a short leash.

As far as you know, the Love Tax is mandatory on every non-changeling living under Changeling rule- aside from the bears, who are protected by the special relationship the Northern Protectorate has with the Changeling Lands. You've managed to avoid it till now simply by looking out for the Service agents that are omnipresent in every major transit center and public square, but it seems there's no getting out of this.

You open your saddlebag and pass over your paper booklet. The changeling levitates it in front of his muzzle.

"Right, this isn't..."

The other changeling points to the bottom of the first page, explaining, "Here, Cadet. This is a Provisional Government document, so the Love Tax information is attached directly to the identification."

"Right. Sorry, Sergeant. Is there anyling else with you, miss Cold Heart?"

You look around at the changelings passing by. "With me?"

"Did you come here with anyone?" clarifies Sergeant Friedrich.

"Oh. No. I'm alone."

Cadet Max squints at your documents. "Right... it looks like you haven't paid your tax for two months now, ma'am."

Ah, shit. You forgot the documents were forged over two months ago, so all the dates are from before that time. You swallow nervously, thinking of some excuse to use.

"I can explain, agent-"

"OH nononono, ma'am, you're not in trouble." Cadet Max gives you an upset frown. "I don't mean to scare everyling, but they look at the uniforms and think, 'This mean changeling's here to take stuff from me.' It's not like that, though. I'm just here to help you perform your duty to Her Majesty!"

The Sergeant coughs. "Cadet..."

"Sorry again, Sergeant Friedrich. Right, ma'am, you can just pay the last two months' tax at once. Either we can extract it now, or you can report to a Liebessammeldienst office within two days' time."

You might as well get it done and over with. "I'll do it now."

Cadet Max beams at you. "Oh, yay! Sergeant, should I do the extraction or..."

The Sergeant shakes his head. "You've had enough extraction practice. You can do support this time. How many liters are we aiming for, Cadet?"

The Cadet's muzzle scrunches up in concentration as he levitates the documents back to you. "Given the listed body weight, and that we're collecting two months' of tax, I'd say... 200 milliliters, condensed?"

Huh. You didn't know that they used such exact measurements.

"Good estimate. Prepare the vial." The Sergeant removes his cap. "Pony, touch the tip of your horn to mine. It's much easier that way."

You comply, wincing slightly in discomfort. Your horn has always been sensitive to physical contact. You're also starting to panic as you realize you have no idea how having your Love extracted is supposed to feel.

"Cadet, status?"

Your eyes are locked with the Sergeant's, so you can't see what Cadet Max is doing.

"The vial is ready, sir. I've cast the monitoring spell too. Heartbeat is slightly rapid, but within the normal range. We're all set."

"Understood. Beginning extraction now, 200 milliliters condensed."

A sudden wave of dread and emptiness rolls across you as the changeling's horn glows sickly green. Your mind is flooded with the doubts that you've been suppressing so far.

You're not good enough for this mission. A skilled changeling failed to get anything of value and was captured. What can you do? You've already made a series of small mistakes that could have blown your cover instantly.

You're in danger. At any time you could be discovered and seized. They'll torture you or just kill you outright.

This whole operation is just a ploy to get rid of you. Why would S.M.I.L.E send you alone? Why didn't you receive more information on the changelings? Was the plan deliberately vague to make you slip up?

You blink as the changeling Sergeant withdraws. You feel tired and drained, both emotionally and physically. Your mind still spins with dark thoughts.

"203 milliliters. You need to call the stop earlier, Cadet. Now, get that marked and put it with the others."

"Right, sorry, Sergeant... Are you alright, Miss Cold Heart?"

You stare at Cadet Max. "Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm just a bit dizzy."

He pouts at you before perking up and ruffling through a side pouch with one of his forelegs. He hands you a large, wrapped cookie.

"Here! It'll make you feel better."

Normally you'd be loath to accept a gift from a changeling, but you haven't eaten all morning and you need something to distract you. You accept the cookie with a small nod.

"Donating Love is kind of like donating blood, if you think about it. Sure, you'll feel tired for a bit, but you'll recover quickly and feel as good as you ever have. Plus, you're doing a good deed!" the Cadet comments as he writes something on the vial with a marker. The liquid inside the vial is white but occasionally pulses with a red glow.

Is this changeling really trying to justify forcing ponies to go through... that? You're growing more disgusted with him every second.

The cookie is good, though. Hmph.

Cadet Max hoofs over a small white slip. "Show this to a Liebessammeldienst office by the end of the week, and they'll update your record."

Great. So you have to go to a Service office anyways. You shove the slip into your identification booklet, and march away to the check-in desk.

You faintly overhear the Sergeant say, "You can go- ah, she's already run off."

And that was your intention. You wait in queue at the desk, right behind a cluster of nymphs clustered around a tired-looking changeling-

"Oh, Cold Heart!"

"It's miss Cold Heart!"

"Who?"

"The angry pony from earlier."

"Oh... I don't like her..."

It's Snap, the nymph caretaker from earlier, along with the nymphs he's taking care of. It seems the time it took for you to visit the State Bank conveniently coincided with his tour schedule for booking a room. You look down the queue and, yep, you'll be stuck here for at least a few minutes.

You silently curse whatever deity above keeps forcing you to interact with changelings. It feels like you've done nothing but talk to 'lings since you arrived here, and it's barely been an hour!

"Hello, uh, Snip," you reply coolly.

"Snap. I hope I got your name right." Snap smiles warmly at you.

Dammit, how do you get him to stop bothering you without freaking him out? Wait, wouldn't a businessmare be happy to make some friends? Are you acting suspiciously here? Perhaps interacting normally will throw off Changeling intelligence, if it gets suspicious of you.

Ok, new plan. You'll interact with Snap juuuuust enough for him to remember you as a completely normal pony subject of Chrysalis, and then you won't have to worry about him anymore.

Ugh, your head still feels foggy after the Love extraction...

"Yeah, you did. I'm sorry, I just paid the Love tax, and I'm feeling a bit dizzy-"

"I saw." Snap grimaces, shaking his head. "It's a horrible affair, but someone has to do it."

You shrug. "I'm glad that I could serve Her Majesty like this."

Just saying that makes you feel nauseous.

Snaps' fin perks up. "Oh, I have an idea to take your mind off things! I've booked the nymphs into a youth program- tour- thingie, and it came with a complimentary paid dinner for two. It's at the Schmétterling. It's a fairly high-end restaurant, and I don't want to let the second seat go to waste. So... would you like to accompany me?"

Stay in character, Cold Strike! A businessmare would definitely take a free dinner at a fancy restaurant. Or would she prefer to eat alone-? No, now you're overthinking this.

"Sure, if you don't mind. Also, uh, it's your turn to check-in."

The nymphs cluster around Snap's legs, staring at you as he talks to the receptionist.

You smile at them. "Don't worry, I don't bite. No fangs, see?"

"You said you'd stomp Aspen..." mutters one of the nymphs.

Your smile disappears. "It was a joke. Don't take it seriously."

The nymphs don't look very convinced. One of them even covers its eyes. Hmph, you're not THAT scary.

You think back to what entertained you as a foal in Canterlot. Perhaps the same would apply to these nymphs.

You focus hard. Your horn glows purple as a swirling blue mist appears on the ground in front of you. It's an extremely simple illusion spell, but the nymphs are fascinated nonetheless. One of them tries to poke the mist only to be disappointed when its leg goes straight through.

"Now, where's Aspen?"

One of the nymphs tentatively steps forward. "Hi..."

"What's your favourite colour, little guy?"

Aspen scratches its head. "I dunno... light blue?"

You change the colour of the mist to a light teal. Aspen's eyes widen. "Woah, that's so cool!"

"Alright, nymphs, let's not bother miss Cold Heart." Snap has finished checking in. "We're in room five hundred and three. As for the dinner, how does eight o'clock sound?"

You shrug. "Sure, I guess." It's not like you have any plans just yet.

Snap smiles at you. "See you there, Cold Heart."

"You too."

You step to the counter where a receptionist is barely managing to hide his impatience under a cheery veil.

"Hello, ma'am! Do you have a room reserved?"

"No, I'm looking to book one. What, uh, options do you have for one bedroom rooms?"

The receptionist nods at an open brochure taped to the front of the desk. "We have three different class options, but do note the lowest option is only available for one-night stays. If you're looking for cheaper accommodations, we have an apartment block specially reserved for guests to Her Majesty's Great Queen's Tower."

You read through the brochure. It seems your only two options within the hotel itself are between a regular-looking one bedroom hotel room, and an upper class room situated on the above floor. You locate the apartment options shoved into a small space on the brochure. The apartment block is apparently situated right on the Tower Plaza, so it'll be a very short commute each morning to the Tower.

Cost doesn't particularly matter to you here. You have a massive supply of marks procured by S.M.I.L.E, both on hoof and in several bank accounts.

Getting an upper class hotel room would let you interact a bit more with the high-level bureaucrats you're sure to find in the State Bank, but is probably more closely surveyed by intelligence than the other two options.

Conversely, the apartment block allows you more freedom but less opportunities to interact with those high up in the Changeling government.

The standard hotel room feels like an uncomfortable compromise between these.

It's time to choose...

Where will you be staying?

A - The standard hotel room.
B - The upper class hotel room.
C - The apartment block.

Option B wins the vote with 100% of 5 total votes.

Author's Note

Apologies for the slightly late upload. The next chapter will be delayed one week- it's time for my break! :D

Chapter 5: Dinner with a Bug

You whistle appreciatively as you open the door to your suite. A short hallway opens into a spacious, window-lit lounge with a pair of cushy sofas placed around a coffee table. A radio set sits silently in the corner. There are three doors leading off from the lounge to the bedroom, bathroom, and a storage cupboard.

The best part? The distasteful changeling atmosphere present throughout the rest of the hotel is nowhere to be seen here. Instead, the soft, colourful furniture, vinyl floor and warm sunlight streaming in reminds overwhelmingly of a small home in Canterlot. You guess there are specific rooms designed for guests of different species, to make them feel more comfortable.

The giant floor-to-ceiling window is the best part. You lock the door behind you, throw your saddlebags and coat on the floor, and leap onto one of the sofas.

You stare outside at the chilly city landscape. The window looks over Tower Plaza, but from this high up you can see the rows of apartment blocks and offices surrounding it. They stretch out into the horizon, an endless sea of grey roofs broken up only by the occasional skyscraper.

Nothing can ruin your relief at finally having some alone time after days of travelling, though. You yawn as you get comfortable on the sofa. A short nap will do you good...

...aaaand you wake up over nine hours later. The ambient light of the cityscape is ample enough for you to read the clock mounted on the wall. It's fifteen minutes to eight o'clock- and more importantly, fifteen minutes to your scheduled dinner with Snap.

You immediately leap up from the sofa and work hurriedly to get dressed. From your time as a police officer you have plenty of experience sleeping on a couch- er, adjusting to rapidly developing situations. In the bedroom- which is windowless- you find a wardrobe fully stocked with clothes that are roughly your size. You recall the receptionist from earlier informing you that you could wear any of the clothes, as long as you returned them before booking out.

Rifling through the wardrobe, you pick out a random set of suit and pants. You're only carrying a few travelling clothes and a formal dress with you, and you hardly have time to go shopping for clothing like you had planned, so the hotel clothes will have to do. You silently pray to Celestia that they've been cleaned since the last guest used them.

It's a ridiculously rough fit. Your tail presses uncomfortably just above your cutie mark; unlike most pants without tail holes, this one lacks any slack for the tail to comfortably fit. The suit is strangely loose around the barrel and legs, and the collar keeps catching on your mane. You waste a full ten minutes just getting the clothes on.

You spare a quick glance in the mirror and decide it looks fine. Changeling tailors must be really incompetent for the fitting to be this bad.

Mercifully, your room is located almost right in front of the elevator lobby. You catch an elevator with a few changelings already inside. You ignore their stares and nod at the attendant.

"Hey, uh, I'm looking for the Schmétterling."

"What 'ling?" The attendant blinks at you.

You pronounce more slowly, "A restaurant called the Schmétterling?"

"Ah. Second floor of the lobby."

Stopping a couple of times on the way, the elevator eventually reaches the second floor. You exit and find yourself in the lobby atrium- this time on the second floor.

The second floor consists of a wide balcony running along a series of restaurants and shops built into the wall. An elaborate wrought iron fence on the balcony edge along with the dark, heavy floor tiles give off a castle-like atmosphere. It contrasts sharply with the modern, brightly lit entrances to luxury clothing stores, perfume displays, and restaurants.

You glance wistfully at a clothing store, still feeling uncomfortable in your suit. You'll have to go shopping after your dinner- which you're just barely on time for. Weaving through the crowds of changelings, you almost miss the entrance to the Schmétterling. A single changeling in a host's outfit stands outside a pair of closed wooden doors. The restaurant is squeezed in a ridiculously small space between two other establishments.

You approach the host warily. "Hey, are you guys closed?"

"Not at all, ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" The host says this dismissively, as if she already thinks the answer is 'no'.

"I- Is there a Snap?"

"Snip?"

"Snap."

"Snap... Yes, he's already arrived, ma'am. You're at table four- it's on the third balcony."

Third balcony?

You trot through a silent, deserted hallway. Only the fancy chandeliers and wooden floor give any indication that you're in a classy restaurant. The hallway ends at a round staircase. A sign reads:

UP - Balconies 1 - 4
DOWN - Balconies 5 - 6, Kitchen

You climb up the staircase, feeling less easy by the second. What kind of restaurant opens with a long hallway? Why is there a staircase? Nevertheless, eventually you reach a door marked 'Balcony Three'.

Pushing it open you step out onto a large stone... er, balcony. About half a dozen four-person tables are dotted around the balcony. Well-dressed changeling waiters weave in between the tables, delivering food, refilling glasses, and taking the orders of the various customers at the tables. Your outfit thankfully fits in with the stiff, formal outfits most of the visitors are wearing.

The view is utterly fantastic. To the left you can see Tower Plaza, its paths and stores lit up dazzlingly. The lights of the buildings and vehicles blink around it. The breeze is a bit too chilly for your tastes, though.

You spot Snap sitting alone, rubbing his forelegs' hooves together absentmindedly. It feels strange to see him without the constant presence of the nymphs he takes care of. You skirt around a table and approach him from behind.

"Boo."

"Hm?"

You roll your eyes and sit down across from Snap. "You could have at least acted surprised."

He chuckles and replies, "I saw you when you trotted through the door. I'm more scared of your outfit- no offense. What are you wearing?"

"Uh, a suit?" You blink back confusedly.

"That's a changeling suit. A male changeling suit. Did someling knowingly sell you that?"

Gah! Why would they put a suit fitted for changelings in a room designed for ponies?

"It came with the room. I thought it was a normal suit," you grumble, blushing slightly. "That explains the, ehm, difficulties I had putting it on." You bury your muzzle in a menu to avoid further embarrasment.

"You don't know a lot about changelings, do you?" Snap muses. "I could help you out."

You lower the menu slightly. "Help me out?"

He shrugs. "You could ask me questions. We have plenty of time."

Mentally listing your order, you put down the menu.

"...you're supposed to ask me the questions."

"Oh, right. Uh. You're called changelings, but I haven't seen a lot of changing so far. What's up with that?"

A waiter stops by and fills your glasses with water.

"Changing-? Oh, shapeshifting." Snap seems hesitant to reply. "Shapeshifting is considered... taboo in public. And, ever since Her Majesty united the Changeling Lands, we've needed to carry around these documents showing which forms we're allowed to take-"

"You don't approve of being controlled like that?" You guess.

Snap looks around worriedly. "It- it's for our safety. Otherwise a changeling could just take someling else's form, commit a crime, and get away with it... maybe we should talk about something else."

Dammit! The first changeling you find who opposes Chrysalis' regime, and he's too afraid to even hold a conversation. Coward.

"Alriiiiight. So, your wing-"

"Door smaller than BABY PLAYHOUSE door. Yak don't like."

You're cut off by the loud bellow originating from the entrance to the balcony. A trio of yaks and a pair of changelings, all dressed in government-style, formal black-blue suits. From this far away you can't make out what the changelings are saying. You watch as they're seated at a nearby table; you might just be able to overhear them from here.

"Are those yaks? I've never seen one in real life."

"Yeah... they don't really leave the Yakistani mountains..." You fall silent as you ponder on the yaks. Yakyakistan, their homeland, has been at war with the Changeling Lands for years now. So why are they here?

"Sir, madame, are we about ready to order?" A waiter materializes virtually out of nowhere, causing you to jump slightly. Damn changelings.

You strain your ears to hear the conversation between the yaks and the changelings, but only make out a few disjointed words above the wind and general noise of the other guests.

"Yes, thank you. I'll have the yellowtail sashimi to start, and a lobster ravioli for the main course. To drink... let the chef decide."

"And what will you be having, ma'am?"

You beam at him. "Do you guys have hayburgers?"

The waiter blinks, clearly taken aback by such a strange request for a changeling restaurant. "Hayburgers are-?" He recomposes himself and smiles. "Yes, ma'am. You'll get the best hayburger of your life."

"With fries."

"With fries. And a large cola."

Now it's your turn to be confused. "A 'cola'?"

"A sweet, carbonated drink. It goes great with fries. I'm sure you'll enjoy it, ma'am. Unless you were looking for something else...?"

You shake your head. "The cola will be fine."

"Thank you, ma'am. The sashimi and drinks will arrive before the rest of the meal. Enjoy your meal."

Now that the waiter is gone, you can just barely hear the conversation at the next table.

"-terms are not acceptable at this time."

"Yak strong. Not break like flimsy chair, strong like heavy iron door. Yak giving you favour here by opening door. "

It seems like they're just conversing about some business deal. You guess the yaks are collaborators, like Cold Heart. Still, you could gather some important-

"A 'hayburger' sounds good."

Aaaand Snap decides to start a conversation. No one told you the biggest obstacle to spying would be an annoying dinner mate.

"It's a fairly popular dish in Ca- in western Equestria." Phew, that was close. You can't keep making slip-ups like this. You're not Cold Strike anymore, you're Cold Heart. "Yellowtail and lobster... those are, uh, fish, right? Ponies don't normally eat meat." You find the idea of eating another being revolting, but you know that some other species raise and eat animals.

"Neither do changelings, actually. Seafood is different though. Fish are more like plants than living beings to us. I suppose we grew accustomed to it out of necessity. In the northwest- where I come from- growing crops is difficult."

The conversation dies down as both of you struggle to think of something to talk about. Instead you pretend to look out from the balcony, while in reality your ears are turned towards the table with the yaks.

"-ments are filled out. You just have to sign in, and the previous... supervisor... will hand over command to you."

"I'd like to get to the subject as soon as possible. I do not have time for your fancy meals and small talk."

Oh? You accidentally picked up a conversation from a pair of nearby diners you didn't take much note of till now. You sneak a glance at them, then gasp slightly and look away.

One is a standard, aged bureaucrat wearing a suit and tie. The other is a teal-finned, wholly black-carapaced changeling in a trench coat.

There's nothing unusual about him except for the fact that he's staring right at you, smiling viciously. You keep your ears pointed at him, but raise a napkin to subtly cover your face.

Snap blinks confusedly at you.

"Relax. We're just here to throw off anyone who might be tailing you."

It's alright. They're not talking about you. They can't be.

"Mmm... tailing me? In Her Majesty's Tower? Ridiculous."

Phew, the creepy changeling didn't find you suspicious.

"We had a breach a few weeks ago, and the Reichsarmee is still on our-"

"You're wasting my time. I will go to see the subject immediately. Good night, officer."

"Good night, agent."

Dammit! This is your first lead- well, second, if you consider the yaks- on something worth investigating, and it's trotting away as fast as possible. You make a split-second decision and get up from your chair.

"Sorry, Snap. I'm uh, not feeling too well."

"Oh. That's a shame." Snap looks genuinely upset. "Do you want me to take you to your ro-"

"No, thanks. Enjoy your meal," you spit out before taking off through the balcony door. The creepy changeling- gah, you'll just call him 'Agent' for now- is already gone. You rush down the stairs faster than a Wonderbolt hearing about a new photo op, casting a tracking spell at the same time.

The spell fails. Either the target is out of range, which is unlikely, or you don't have enough information. Agent is too generic-looking for you to provide the spell with any unique details. You try the spell again, this time focusing on his trench coat.

You've got it! A blue line appears on the ground, visible only to you. You reach the hallway where the host from earlier stops you.

"Didn't you just get here a few minutes ago, ma'am? Did you find Mister Snap?"

You try to sidestep her. "I did. I'm just feeling a bit unwell."

"Oh, dear. The restrooms are next to the kitchen if you need them."

You force a smile on your face and try to move around her once again. She blocks your path with an equally fake smile.

"The kitchen is downstairs, ma'am."

"I don't need the restroom, ma'am." The blue line is getting dimmer. Soon Agent will be completely out of range of the spell.

"You're going towards the exit-"

Time for some good ol' shouting. "I am TRYING to exit. Please move aside."

The host moves aside.

You canter out of the restaurant. Outside, you look around for the blue line, but your view is blocked by the crowds of nighttime shoppers and tourists. You make your way to the glass railing where you scan the atrium for Agent, keeping both your eyes and ears sharp.

You catch a conversation between a pair of changelings in office shirts.

"I'm not actually supposed to show you this, so we'll have to bluff our way in. Don't worry, they have no idea who's supposed to be there and who isn't."

"If this a top-secret project, shouldn't we ask the Energy Committee-?"

"And wait four days for them to meet only for them to decide to let you in anyways? No, we need every second we can get. That's how vital this research is. Let's move, we should leave the Tower before dawn."

You pause for a moment. You consider whether to tail these two 'lings instead; they sound important too, and you've entirely lost Agent in the crowds- wait, no, there's the blue line! It leads in the direction of the elevators. Leaning over the railing, you just barely spot Agent waiting next to one of the elevator shafts, completely oblivious that you're watching him.

Right when things couldn't get more chaotic, the yak party storms out of the restaurant in apparent anger.

You've got three leads to potentially vital information, and you can only follow one. You can't tell if this is lucky or unlucky, but whatever you choose, it'd better be a damn good choice.

It's time to choose...

Who do you follow?

A - Agent, a mysterious changeling in a trench coat discussing a 'subject' and who is important enough to worry about being followed.
B - The two researchers trying to bluff their way somewhere they aren't supposed to be.
C - The group of the changelings and yaks suspiciously visiting the Great Queen's Tower.

This is the last choice of the Act. Choose wisely.

Option B wins the vote with 83.33% of 6 total votes.

Author's Note

Hi! I'm back, after a two week break to generally rest my weary hands and plan out the future of the fic. Thank you all for your patience, and enjoy the new chapter- the second last of the act!

Chapter 6/Act 1 Finale: So Sets the Stage

Quietly growling in frustration, you refocus the target of your tracking spell to the pair of uniformed changelings standing near you. At the same time, you telekinetically dust down your suit just in case someling is watching- the glow of your horn gives off the fact that you're casting a spell. It would look pretty suspicious to be casting a spell with no visible effect.

By the time you finish casting the spell, they're already moving towards the elevators. You move around the crowd as quickly as possible without attracting any attention. You mentally note that a lot less changelings are gawping at you than earlier, now that you're in a changeling-style suit and less obviously a pony.

The suit is still extremely uncomfortable, though. You can't wait to get back to your room and tear it off. A shower would be nice too.

You're forced to pick up the pace as you spot the changelings you're following enter an elevator. One of them leans to speak with the attendant for a moment, after which the attendant says something to the other changelings in the elevator. They pile out in a dismayed fashion just as you reach the elevator.

The attendant slams the door of the elevator shut, leaving you to watch as it slides downwards out of sight. You look around in a slight panic for other elevators, but there's none on your floor.

Instead, you're forced to use a nearby stairwell. As you step inside the air turns deathly still and the din of the atrium fades almost completely. The stairwell is utterly deserted and not particularly inviting. Low-quality lightbulbs cast a dim light on the concrete stairs and industrial railings. It's a far cry from the display of wealth throughout the rest of the Tower, but you take the lack of changelings to be a blessing.

You trot down the stairs as fast as you can, nearly tripping at the last step. Damn outfit.

The tracking spell's markers inform you that the elevator has somehow passed the lobby and is continuing downwards. You frown to yourself. There's only a pair of double doors leading to the lobby, and a heavy door set below the staircase marked 'maintenance'. There must be an underground section to the Tower accessible only by the elevators.

Something doesn't feel right about the maintenance door though. There should only be enough space under the stairs for a small cupboard, at best holding a few cleaning supplies. So why such a secure door? Perhaps the stairwell continues behind it?

You try the door. It's locked with a bolt. You grimace, taking a moment to make sure you can't hear anyone coming down the stairwell, then try to break the lock with a firm, calculated kick to the rough area where the bolt is. The noise is deafening in this small space, but sure enough the bolt breaks free of the door and it swings open. Behind it is, like you suspected, a continuation of the stairwell.

The ceiling is significantly lower and the lights are somehow even dimmer, giving you the impression of crawling into a small cave. Nevertheless, you continue onwards, fearful of losing the two 'lings. Your tracking spell is already on the verge of the failing.

Your heart pounds increasingly faster the further you go. Until now you haven't done any particularly wrong or even suspicious, except for the incident when entering the Tower. Now, though? At any moment you could be caught with your hoof firmly stuck in the cookie jar.

The cookie jar is deep, too. You haven't passed by any doors or signs; the stairwell simply continues down uninterrupted. The gentle clip-clop of your hooves and the occasional chipped staircase are the only things breaking the monotony. Every second that passes by you grow more and more unnerved. If anyone tries to enter the stairwell, they'll immediately notice the broken lock. Then it's only a matter of time till a security force is alerted.

Suddenly, the blue guiding light of the tracking spell flickers into life in front of you. You sigh in relief. This means your targets are finally on a surface the tracking spell can guide you to and the path isn't even that long. You pick up the pace with renewed vigor, eager to get out of the stairwell. You pass a couple of heavy, black doors on the way, but the tracking spell doesn't lead to either of them. You try to gauge how deep you are by now. You've been trotting at a decent speed for a few minutes, so it has be... nearly a hundred meters? If there's such a massive underground complex, why haven't you heard about it? And why is it locked behind a door?

Eventually the blue line finally points through one of the doors. It's a double set of dark, imposing steel monoliths. You poke around to find the locking mechanism, then give it a good solid kick like with the door upstairs.

The doors slam open easily. They weren't locked.

You carefully step through the doors into a large, brightly lit lobby. It's surprisingly little different from the other elevator lobbies, having the same size and shape. There's only two elevator shafts, though, and the ceiling is much lower. Comfortable sofas and potted plants are nestled between giant support pillars around the edges of the room. A hallway is situated between two of these pillars, opposite the elevators.

A changeling janitor is mopping the other side of the room. He gives you a mere glance before returning to work, despite your very loud entrance.

This seems remarkably like a regular office lobby. No scientists, no intelligence agents, no dungeons that would necessitate an underground area... yet, the blue line points to the hallway. You close the doors behind you and tiptoe to it. The hallway stretches on quite a long distance and is lined with marked doors on both sides. You read some of the signs as you pass by.

"Conference room one... conference room two... empty office... where's a pony supposed to find the juicy intelligence?" you mutter to yourself. You're feeling much more relaxed now that you're in a familiar environment. The same atmosphere as the rest of the Tower is starting to set in- the feeling that you're trespassing, but there's no one to stop you from doing so.

The janitor from earlier barely even looked at you, so you guess there's no special security required to get here. Other than knowing it exists, ofcourse. You wonder if that friendly elevator attendant from earlier today, Adelheid, knows about the underground section.

You suddenly flinch as you hear some muffled talking, slowly approaching you from ahead. You duck into 'conference room three' and hide behind the door. The conference room is little more than a chalkboard and a set of chairs stacked in a corner. You don't have time to close the door before you hear another door up ahead open.

"Woah- did you hear that?" A male changeling is speaking.

"By Chrysalis, for the last time, yes, we heard your stupid joke."

"You're not funny, dude."

"No, seriously, I heard that door open. It's literally open right now."

You hold your breath. The changelings are almost right outside the door. The idea of eating a classy dinner on a cool balcony with the only nice changeling in the nation suddenly sounds particularly inviting. Why did you have to canter off to do spy stuff?

"You want to close it? Or shall I do it for you? Perhaps get your mother over here to teach you how to do it?"

"Heh. His mother."

"It's not about the door being open! We're guards, we guard things. And we've clearly failed to, uh-"

"Stop a random door from opening? Oh, we are so getting fired. Definitely."

"Oh, shut up. My joke was actually pretty good, you know. I used..."

You breathe a sigh of relief as the voices fade away. You could have just as easily bluffed your way through the guards, but the less people who see you, the better. You wait for a moment, then slink out into the hallway. The changelings are nowhere to be seen, allowing you to make your way through a a glass door marked 'Special Energy Research Commission'.

It features a bright yellow hazard warning with a jagged rock cut out of the middle; the universal symbol for the presence of magic crystals. You frown at it. What are crystals doing in an office? They're normally used in power plants, advanced machines, runes...

...and weapons. Powerful, unstable rifles and cannons that throw shrapnel and explosives around at unimaginable speeds. Not exactly something that would be in the hands of a civilian agency.

Nevertheless, you slide open the door and step into a large computing room. Bright lights shine over rows of desks stacked with papers and mechanical calculating machines. All of the desks are empty, papers stacked neatly in preparation for the next workday. The tracking spell indicates your targets are in an adjacent room connected via a door. You can faintly hear them moving about. The buzzing of some sort of equipment occasionally filters through the door too.

You're about to approach them when you realize you've already hit the jackpot. Here you are alone in a room full of documents and numbers, right in the middle of the Great Queen's Tower.

You stop in your tracks and look around for cabinets marked 'extremely important information'.

There aren't any. You sigh and start skimming through random papers from the nearest desk, trying to extract any information as quickly as possible. It's all numbers and senseless symbols though. You move on to the next desk, but the situation is similar. There's barely a complete word in any of the documents.

Suddenly, you hear the exterior door open almost directly behind you and gasp. A female changeling with a striking blue mane stands in the doorway, muzzle contorted in shock. She's wearing a grey suit that indicates she's a guard or soldier of some sort, but is visibly unarmed.

You move first. You turn over a table with your telekinesis and shove it against the door. The guard deftly leaps over the table and tugs a blade from one of her boots, holding it between her fangs. You expect her to leap at you and roll over to the left to dodge, leaving you on your side, but instead she canters around the nearby table and holds the knife directly to your neck.

"Don't fucking move. Don't make a sound," she snarls around the knife.

Don't make a sound? As if you have anyone to save you right now.

Your horn lights up and a shadow falls over the both of you.

"What the hell did I just say-?" The changeling presses the knife against your neck, but you just smirk in false bravado.

"Look up, 'ling."

The guard glances upwards for just a moment, knife still held right to your neck. She almost drops the knife in shock. You're levitating an entire table, calculating machine, documents, and all right above her.

Months of high-intensity S.M.I.L.E training has paid off, allowing you to just barely hold up the heavy desk. Your horn aches intensely from the effort, and you're sweating like crazy, but this was the only object you knew the position of well enough to pick up.

"If you kill me, you, uh, die. If you let me go, we both live. Sounds good?"

The guard doesn't move. "Listen, asshole. I'm on your side. I really am. I'm- we're not with them."

"You're trying to kill me." You point out. You don't find her story very convincing. The whole situation is a bit strange- why was the guard alone, and preventing you from shouting?- but this is evidently just a ploy to get you to move the desk away. "Get back, and then let's talk." You blink out the black dots from your vision. It's getting hard to think.

The guard backs up to the door, and slides the knife back into one of her boots. You drop the table with a crash and climb to your hooves, swaying and breathing heavily.

"Who's in there?" someone yelps from behind the door where the two scientists are. "Alex?"

"Holy shit. Are you stupid? I told you to keep it down." The changeling throws open a seemingly random desk drawer and hands you a bright red folder. "Take this. It's important. Really fucking important. Send it to whoever you're working for, if it helps. And don't forget- it was the Eisenwagen that helped you out."

You're still winded and even more confused by this sudden change in the 'ling's tone. You guess she's some sort of disobedient soldier or resistance member.

You have no choice but to take the folder and flee, though, as the interior door bursts open and two changelings step out. You canter down the hallway, pushing your exhausted lungs as hard as you can.

"There! A male changeling, grey markings!" shouts the guard.

So she is on your side after all. Weird.

The janitor is nowhere to be seen in the lobby. You rush up the stairs of the maintenance stairwell two steps at a time. You're barely keeping ahead of your pursuers, though, judging by the close thundering of their changeling legs.

You travel up that stairwell for what seems like forever. The claustrophobia you felt on the way down is replaced by sheer adrenaline from the chase. You eventually burst through a pair of doors into the relatively much nicer and taller aboveground stairwell. Pausing to think for a moment, you kick open the swinging doors into the atrium but keep climbing up the stairs, leaving the doors still swinging behind you. You pause at the top of the stairs to the second floor to catch your breath and watch.

Just as you hoped, one of the changelings shouts, "There! The lobby!" A ridiculously large crowd of changeling pursuers- you count at least six- rushes through the doors.

The changeling guard who helped you earlier stumbles out the 'maintenance' doors, breathing heavily.

You call out to her. "Hey, uh, changeling? Who exactly are you?"

She glances at you as if she expected you to be standing right there. "You should be getting the fuck out of here, pony, not standing there all pretty. If you're interested, though, leave a note for the Eisenwagen at the post office. We'll find it. Oh, yeah, I'm Ella. I don't care what your name is."

And with that, she's gone into the atrium. You stand on the staircase trying to process the events of the day. You met way too many changelings, didn't get the chance to eat any food, and almost got caught red-hooved on the first real day of your 'job'. And you haven't even dealt with the horrors of changeling bureaucracy yet!

Still, you glance down at the red folder in your muzzle. Levitating it in front of you, you flip it open.

There's two pages inside. One is torn and ragged, the ink splotched and unreadable. The other is the exact opposite. It's a crisp white paper, simply declaring:

Nationale Energiekommission

-Main Test (incl. live demonstrations to Reichsarmee) duration 3/10-16/10
-Secondary Test (incl. live demonstration to ethics council) duration 5/10-9/10
-Royal Demonstration duration 15/10-15/10

All those with authorization to attend may utilize government vehicles to arrive at the test site. The location of the test site will only be shared with higher level government officials and officers the Queen's Guard. Related parties expected to attend must accompany them. Such a high level of secrecy is absolutely necessary and is commanded by Her Majesty herself.

Chrysalis wills it! Our work will be done.

That's it. One page, filled with dates and a vague, rambling paragraph. You have no idea what this 'energy commission' does, or what these tests are. Still, you have a lot of intelligence to send home tonight. Any scrap of information on the Tower and the city is vital to the war effort

For now though, you just want a long shower, comfortable clothes, and maybe a bit of sleep.

There is no choice.

Statistics:

27 votes were cast across 5 choices. Of these, 6 votes were cast against the winning choice, meaning 78% of total votes were aligned with the winning choice.

The choices made have generally taken the story in a positive direction.

Author's Note

intense screaming WE'RE LATE AAGGAAAIIIIN!

I do apologize for the late chapter uploads. I do my best to get chapters out in a timely manner, but sometimes life just gets in the way. Thank you all very much for your patience and support on the last chapter despite it also being late (due to my break).

Also, act 1 is done! This means all the characters and 'core' choices have been complete. We have ourselves a mystery, a resistance group, a nice changeling who wants dinner, and a set of other characters you'll certainly be seeing again. And ofcourse, choices, choices, and choices.

Thank you for reading and as always do share your feedback and criticism in a comment.

Chapter 7: Another Day

"To define it as a recurring theme, or rather, a recurring point in these negotiations, would be an understatement. You are utterly obsessed with it."

You're calmly sitting in the Great Queen's Tower's hotel café, sipping on a morning coffee. You were a bit hesitant about leaving the airy, well-lit hotel room for the public areas of the Tower which are designed more towards changeling tastes, but you haven't eaten anything for nearly a day now. If it wasn't for your mortal needs you'd probably stay in the hotel room as much as possible, which isn't a great way to collect intelligence.

Insert joke about antisocial ponies here.

The café unfortunately lacks any windows. It's entirely lit by an array of chandeliers that cast a dim glow over wooden tables interspersed between dark stone pillars. You've chosen a table near the entrance where light from the corridor outside filters in. You're getting rather tired of the gloominess of changeling architecture.

However, something else is weighing on your mind at the moment. After the adrenaline of last night wore off, you realized that making a very loud and dramatic escape from a secret underground facility on your first day here puts you in quite a lot of danger. Every changeling government office and agency is bound to be on high alert at the moment. When you first arrived, the government taking the time to investigate your false background seemed low.

Now, though? Who knows how many intelligence agents are going through every scrap of data they have on those in the Tower. They won't even have to look too far- if they only investigate non-changelings, they'll have a very short list indeed.

You feel like you're climbing down that stairwell all over again. Calmly trotting into an ever narrower pit. The only path is forward, or back.

How many changelings here know about the secret facility and the breach? Are they watching you right now? Are they perhaps right behind you-

"Cold Heart! There you are!"

"By the stars-! oh." Snap, the nymph caretaker, has somehow snuck up behind you. He stares at you with a slightly uncertain expression. "Uh, hello, Snap."

"Were you alright last night? You seemed pretty focused on something when you left-"

"Focused? Focused on getting back to my bedroom, perhaps. Heheh," you chuckle nervously. Snap takes the seat opposite you without waiting for an invitation.

"You left so suddenly, though. Did I say something offensive? Did you feel uncomfortable there? I'm sorry, I don't know much about pony culture-"

Huh. The poor 'ling thinks you left because of him. You're slightly relieved that he didn't get suspicious of you, though. And why should he? You're just a businessmare, after all.

"Yeah, Snap, it's not about any of that. I really was, uh, feeling sick. I would have loved to chat a bit and try some of that 'cola'," you explain as gently as possible. For some reason Snap's worried muzzle and flattened ears make you feel a twinge of guilt.

"Oh. Ahem. I suppose I got myself worked up over nothing. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Uh, sure." He's already sitting at your table but you don't feel the need to bring that up. "Wait, where are the nymphs? Are they still asleep?"

Snap smiles at that. "If I could get them to sleep for longer than four hours at a time, I'd be a much happier 'ling. No, they're with another caretaker; one of my colleagues. I handled the nymphs from home to the Tower, she's going to take care of them during the Tower stay, and a third caretaker is taking them back. I'm still in the same room, though, and I'll be pitching in whenever I'm needed. Taking care of nymphs is no easy task."

Changelings must be raised really differently from ponies if they get tossed between caretakers like that so easily. No wonder they're in a foul mood all the time.

"...right." Well, time to gauge the situation. "Say, I heard about some sort of, uh, incident last night? Do you know anything about that?"

"'Incident'? I heard from a love service officer that one of the elevators broke down, if that's what you mean."

Phew. It seems the changelings don't want to make a big deal of the breach and are keeping things hush-hush. That doesn't mean you're off the hook, though.

"Uh, yeah. Did they get it fixed?"

Snap orders a coffee from a nearby waiter. "Hm? I think they did, yes, but it took them some time. You should have seen the hotel lobby. Completely jampacked. No 'ling is crazy enough to trot down the stairs ten floors."

"Right," you nod in agreement.

You trotted up the stairs ten floors last night after losing your pursuers.

Snap idly taps his front hooves on the table as you sip your coffee.

"Cold Heart... if you don't mind me asking, what do you think of the Great Queen's Tower? I mean, what do you really think?" Snap stares at you seriously. "What does it mean to you?"

You're about to give him a standard monarchist answer- 'I love all of it and the Queen is great blahblahblah'- but something in his expression stops you. You set down your cup and seriously think for a moment. You've been too overwhelmed with everything going on so far to pay attention to your own feelings.

"I find it... well... uh... look at it from my perspective," you mutter. "You come and bring war to Equestria. You blow up our homes, and our farms, and our schools. You shock our society more than it ever has been in history. And then I come here and see this... wealth and grandeur. It's built on that." You look up and lock eyes with Snap.

"The Great Queen's Tower is built on war. And I hate it."

Snap blinks and looks away. "Ah, that's... insightful."

There's an uncomfortable silence. You instantly regret revealing your true thoughts like that. Why would a businessmare associate with the people she hates?

"Do you... hate us? Hate me?" Snap suddenly asks.

You didn't expect that question and struggle to answer. "Uh- woah, that's quite the question, Mr. Serious!" you tease with a half-hearted chuckle. After a moment Snap laughs with you too.

You hate him. Just a little bit. Every movement and word he utters reminds you that he is, in fact, a changeling. No matter how nice he is to you, that's all he will be.

"You can't blame me for being dramatic after what you said. Anyways, what are your plans for the day?"

Your plans? You're going to be looking for any sympathetic people in the State Bank, and finding some way to contact S.M.I.L.E. You lay awake half the night, paranoia keeping you from sleeping, and wrote a report on what you've found out since you arrived in the Changeling Lands. You're certainly not going to tell Snap that, though.

"I couldn't get any work done at the, uh, State Bank yesterday, so I guess I'll be going there now. Uh... after that I might need to visit the post office. Do you, uh, know where it is?"

The changeling guard who helped you yesterday, Ella, told you to contact the 'Eisenwagen' by sending them a letter in the post office. Even if you don't end up contacting them it'd be good to know where the post office is. It's impossible to find anything in this damn Tower.

Snap rubs his chin with a hoof. "The post office? I would guess it's in the lobby, on the ground floor. A lot of government services are located there. The 'lings living near the Tower have to use them too, after all."

"Oh. That makes sense." You finish your coffee right as Snap's arrives. "I've told you what I'm doing, now it's your turn. What does a changeling do when they're not herding nymphs?"

Snap takes a sip of his coffee and hisses at how hot it is. "I'll be taking the opportunity to tour the city and the Tower. It's not every day you get a government-paid trip to Vesalipolis. Hotel rooms right in the Great Queen's Tower, too. It almost feels too good to be true."

"Being a, uh, caretaker doesn't sound all that bad. You get to be around adorable nymphs all day, the government pays for your holidays, you're doing a public service..."

"And you get to be treated like a second-class citizen," Snap complains, rolling his eyes. "The nymphs aren't a joke, either. They're a hoofful of mischief."

"A second-class citizen?" Here's the interesting gossip on changeling society. "I thought you got a lot of, uh, respect. You've basically raised every changeling. Uh, not you personally. I meant caretakers in general."

"It's seen as a last resort job here. Even though you need special qualifications, most 'lings think caretaking is just a way for the government to keep the unemployed working and paid," grumbles Snap.

"Damn. If it's so bad, why'd you, uh, sign up?"

Snap's muzzle twitches in the ghost of a smile. "Why do any of us do anything? I never thought I'd end up caretaking. Yet, here I am, having made a series of decisions that ended up with me as a caretaker."

"Uh... that doesn't answer my question?"

"It does."

Snap refuses to elaborate, instead electing to finish his coffee. Smug bastard.

You idly tap on the table, planning out the day. You had better get going now if you want to get any work done.

"I'll, uh, see you later then, Snap? I should be on my way. Lots of things to do today."

"Oh! Sure. I'll see you around. Take care of yourself."

You leave the café at a calm trotting pace. Now that you're wearing a pony-style suit, it's back to the good old staring tourists and curious passersby giving you a second glance. At least you're not as brightly coloured as most ponies. Being a walking lollipop isn't exactly the definition of 'inconspicuous'.

Unlike the smooth corners and wide hallways in large pony buildings that provide plenty of sightlines and memorable spots to help naturally guide you to your destination, the Tower features straight, narrow corridors that refuse to meet at anything besides right angles. It'd be impossible to figure out where the elevators are without the help of the regularly placed signs, despite knowing in your head where it is.

You stop at the elevators and consider where you want to go. You've been obsessing endlessly over the meaning of the contents of the file you secured last night- a vague list of dates and references to a 'test' by the Energy Commission.

You're still hoping to find someone in the State Bank with good connections and a distaste for the monarchy. They're bound to know about something as important-sounding as this, even if it's so secretive.

Contacting the Eisenwagen seems unwise. The less people who know who you are and why you're here, the better. One changeling is already one too many, but you're betting on the chance that you won't run into Ella again. However... it was Ella who gave you the document in the first place. There must have been a reason behind it.

It's time to choose...

Where do you plan to go?

A - Straight to the State Bank.
B - The State Bank, but afterwards contact the Eisenwagen.
C - The State Bank, but afterwards anonymously contact the Eisenwagen.

Option C wins the vote with 100% of 5 total votes.

Author's Note

The upload and voting schedule is being changed.
Uploads will now take place at roughly 03:00 UTC on Sunday (Sunday morning for those east of Britain, Saturday night for those west).
Voting will conclude at 00:00 UTC on Wednesday (Wednesday morning/Tuesday night).

The schedule is effectively exactly the same, just moved forward one day. Do let me know if the new schedule is more inconvenient for you all.

Chapter 8: Slow Start

You step into the closest unoccupied elevator- Elevator 4- nodding at the attendant.

"Floor forty-three, please- oh, hey! Uh, Adelheid, was it?" You recognize the elevator attendant from yesterday.

He tips his cap at you. "The one and only, missus. Forty-third floor, coming right up. Or rather, we's- we're coming up to them, I suppose."

You wince as the elevator shudders and jolts upwards. "How many floors are there, anyways? Who'd want to live so high up in the air?"

"Aren't you them people who built a city out of clouds? You’ve no right criticizing us with that thing in the air,” Adelheid points out.

“...touché, ‘ling,” you mutter back. You’re mostly trying not to throw up at the motion of the elevator. Why is it swaying side to side?

“As for how many floors there are… I dunno, really. I know they’ve got Her Majesty and all the royal offices up at the tippy top, nice and cozy, but they ain’t going around announcing exactly where they are or how many floors they’ve got up there, no they are not. I’d put it at nearly two hundred though.”

“Aren’t you the elevator operator?” you asked incredulously. “Haven’t you ever had to take someone up there?”

Adelheid shrugs. “I just push the buttons, missus. And when some well-dressed ‘ling tells you which button to push and where it is, you don’t ask questions and you forget right after, if you know what’s good for you. Here’s your stop.”

You bid farewell and make your way to the State Bank. It takes you a second to figure out which of the many identical apartment doors it’s behind, but you smell cigarette smoke wafting out and hear muffled conversation behind one of the doors.

The room falls silent as you open the door. It's exactly the same as it was yesterday: cramped office desks, dim natural lighting, and ridiculously tiny waiting area. Nearly twenty heads swivel to watch as you step up to the reception desk shoved almost right in front of the door.

"Uh, hi?"

A changeling standing nearby rolls his eyes. It's the apparent manager who sent you away yesterday.

"Didn't I tell you to go away, pony? We have actual work to do."

"I thought we were playing paperball-" pipes up a changeling sitting at a desk. Sure enough, he's sitting in a pile of crumpled papers.

"Walt. Please."

You cut straight to the issue. The longer you talk to this rude bastard, the less time you have to talk to potential allies. "Yeah, sorry to interrupt your... work... but isn't helping me out your job? Like I said yesterday, I'm trying to get a loan. Or anything, really."

The changeling sneers. "A loan? For what? Filling in the bomb craters?"

You flinch. He's not far off. Occupied Equestria is little more than a series of crumbling towns and abandoned trenches, outside of Vanhoover.

How are you supposed to respond to that? Would Cold Heart take offense? Play it cool? You don't feel like just shrugging off that comment, but those are your own feelings. Not something shared by a gold mine owner willing to collaborate for a quick buck.

Damn, keeping a disguise is ridiculously confusing.

"Woah- let's all calm down here. Berthold, back up. Take a breather outside or go play some paperball." You're thankfully saved by a pleasant-sounding changeling. He's wearing a fancy suit, rather than the standard office shirt the rest of the 'lings are wearing. He smiles at you as Berthold slinks off to a desk at the end of the room, sparing you one last glare.

At least, you think it's a smile. Changeling facial expressions still aren't your strongest suit.

"Hello, ma'am. Why have you gotten good Berthold so riled up? Did you happen to pay our little operation an ill-timed visit yesterday?"

"Uhh... yeah?" At least this guy is being polite. He's so physically large, though- thick legs, taller than average, and huge wings- that his words seem slightly threatening despite the warm tone. "Wait, weren't you the drunk 'ling who was being-"

"Ahahahaaaa you must have confused me for someling else. I am Lord Tibia, the Managing Director of the State Bank of Pax Chrysalia. Just call me Tibia. I am wholly focused on running this fine bank, small though it may be now. Ah, what business would you be having here, good madame?"

You blink at him. He's definitely the same changeling who was dragged out of the office utterly wasted yesterday morning. You drop the issue, though.

"Well, uh, I heard you're in charge of financing the reconstruction of oc- of Pax Chrysalia. My family owns a gold mine near the border, but we've been struggling to operate it without full, uh, ponypower. We could use some more funds to uh... install machinery, hire some extra hoofs, everything we need to get the mine going. Y'know, like I was trying to tell your, uh, employee."

This part of your cover story is true. The real gold mine has been barely functioning since the start of the war, according to S.M.I.L.E. After all, the same hooves and horns that tug heavy pulleys and shovel tons of dirt could be better used digging trenches and towing cannons than extracting gold.

Most of those hooves and horns never returned.

Tibia taps the reception desk thoughtfully. "...sure. Let's do it."

"Wha..." your jaw drops in shock. "We- just like that?"

"I could change my mind if it would please the good madame." Tibia smirks at you. "I know what you're thinking. Where are the interviews? The stuffy rooms full of accountants and analysts? They are not hiding, madame, they simply do not exist. If we are to rebuild an entire continent from the ground up, it will not be bureaucrats and savvy businesslings who will refit the cogs of industry and life. Nay, it will be the rash and reckless spending of the vast resources available to us that will encourage all peoples to build those cogs and turn them themselves!"

Lord Tibia steps back and bows to the rest of the office. Walt and another changeling enthusiastically clap their hooves. Everyone else has already returned to 'working' and aren't paying attention.

'Rash' and 'reckless' are not the qualities you'd normally attribute to an investor, let alone the director of a government bank. You're not even sure what that rant was about. Lord Tibia catches your look of confusion.

"In short, madame- we begin processing your request right away. It only needs to meet our minimum requirements to be accepted. I presume you are not attempting to scam, swindle, con, hustle, flimflam, or generally trick us in any way?" The changeling looms over you, his tone suddenly threatening.

"I- uhhh... no?" you answer weakly. Tibia is talking way too fast for you to make any sense of him.

"Good. Splendid, in fact. I'll admit, you are our fourth-ever borrower, and with luck, nowhere near our last. The underwriting team will be assessing the terms of your loan. I suggest you fully cooperate with them, madame, or you'll leave with less than you hoped for. Front desk, to the right side."

Lord Tibia stares at you expectantly. After a few seconds you shift uncomfortably and ask, "Do I go or-?"

"Oh! Yes, yes, be on your way."

"Right..." You shuffle around the reception desk and head to the desk indicated.

You can just barely make out a pair of changelings sitting behind the mounds of documents and files, attempting in vain to process some of them.

If you're only the fourth person the bank has ever had to handle, why is there so much paperwork? Does it generate itself? Is it coming from a parallel universe where the bank is actually busy? You will never understand such horrors.

"Take a seat, ma'am."

You look around for a chair. "Should I get one from the, uh, waiting 'room'?"

One of the changelings shoves aside a pile of papers and peers over the desk. "Oh. I thought we- yes, fetch one from over there, if you can, dear. This'll take a while."

You levitate a seat over the reception desk and sit down. The changeling clears the desk a bit more so she can actually see you. It's a relief to be talking to someone normal-sized, and this changeling seems especially old and non-threatening.

"Can I see your entry card or some other identification, please, dear?"

"Uh, sure." You hoof over your card, wincing mentally at the quality of the picture printed on it.

"Cold Heart! What a lovely family name. 'Heart'. Well, I just need you to fill out this form, and I'll have the Ministry of Statistics fetch the information we have on you."

"Oh. Is that really, uh, necessary?" You're not a fan of the idea of getting a government department verifying your story. "Do they even have any information? I mean, on ponies?"

The changeling levitates a paper over to you. "Ofcourse! The Liebessammeldienst keeps track of everyone in the territories we administer. How else would they collect Love, dearie?" She taps on the paper. "Fill as much as you can, please."

You nod and scan the form. It's all just personal information: your name, place of birth, family members, and such. You double check each of the details to make sure you haven't written down any of your own details out of habit.

Cold Heart, not Cold Strike. Remember that.

"All done? Fantastic. I'll send that over to Statistics during the lunch break." The changeling can't find any empty desk space to place the form and resorts to simply tossing it on another pile.

The paperwork grows.

"Is that all?" you ask. You're not seeing any opportunities so far to talk to any of the more interesting characters in the State Bank- like that deer, and Captain Konrad- and you doubt this elderly mare has any interest in becoming friends. Why did intelligence training teach you how to build a rapport when the hardest part is actually finding people to build a rapport with?

"Is that all? Dear, we've only just gotten started. I know nothing about what you do, what you need money for, or how you're going to use it! Let's start with the what."

"Ah." You're getting tired of repeating the exact same information over and over again to Celestia-knows-how-many changelings. "Well, my family runs a gold mine in a remote town north of Vanhoover, near the border with the Changeling Lands. We've been operating it for nearly a century now..."

You recite as much of your cover story as you can presently remember, trying to emphasize any reasons for being dissatisfied with the Equestrian government for extra pro-changeling points. You complain about a lack of funding, poor infrastructure, and the war pulling all of 'your' employees away for nearly an entire hour, accepting the changeling's questions throughout.

"Oh... oh, dearie, it must be so stressful for you to be taking charge of the business after such a dark period... My brother had to do the same with our little store after the unification wars, bless him." The changeling sniffles and dabs her eyes with a napkin.

Maybe you double downed on the problems with the mine a little too hard.

"Heh, I'm not taking charge just yet. Mom and Pa and still have a lot of years left in them. I'd like to help them out the best I can. That's why I travelled all the way here."

The changeling beams at you. "Why, I don't doubt it in the slightest. You'll make your parents proud. I think I've got everything I need, dear. You can come back tomorrow and we'll sort the rest out."

Wow. You almost feel guilty for using your disguise there. Still, it's a good sign that you were able to convince her of your identity so well. Maybe you should consider a career in acting once this is all over.

"Hey, uh... do you know if I could talk to some of the people here? Privately? I'm- one of my friends sent me here, he said an acquaintance works here. I think I recognize them but I want to make sure."

"Oh, that's no problem at all, dear. Berthold wouldn't be happy if you dragged them out right now- he's our secretary and takes his job very seriously- but during the lunch break at two o'clock most of the 'lings here are free for a chat."

"Oh, alright. Thanks." You get up to leave, stopping at the doorway to take a quick scan of the room. For now you'll only be trying to interact with one person. It's already hard enough figuring out what to do with Snap and the Eisenwagen.

You don't spot Captain Konrad for some reason. Does he even work at the State Bank? Tracking him down might be a lot harder than you'd hope, and if he doesn't work here or has left then it doesn't open any new opportunities.

The deer is quietly poring over a document in the corner of the room. You're banking purely on the chance that their species means they don't support Chrysalis.

Lord Tibia laughs at a joke one of the employees has just made. He's been nice to you so far but... not exactly the revolutionary type.

It's time to choose...

Who do you want to talk to?

A - The unknown deer
B - Lord Tibia
C - Captain Konrad, though finding him might be a challenge

Option C wins the vote with 60% of 5 total votes.

Chapter 9: A Letter and a Phone

Having nothing better to do, you've been wandering the ground floor of the Great Queen's Tower for the past... two, three hours? It's much harder to how much time has passed without any sunlight. The layout of the ground floor only adds to that feeling.

Despite the extraordinary size of the atrium, it only takes up a fraction of the actual floorspace of the building. The rest of the floor boasts a myriad of government services, military offices, a full hospital, and what you guess is an off-limits storage complex. The Tower is almost a city in its own right. You could comfortably live, work, and die here without ever setting hoof outside.

If you could afford it, that is. And enjoyed the idea of never leaving the Tower.

The area is thankfully much easier to navigate than the cramped labyrinth of the hotel, though. All the hallways are spacious- enough for a heavy tank to drive straight through- and have large, visible signs informing you exactly where everything is. They're laid out almost in a radial pattern, with straight hallways from the atrium intersecting other, smaller ones. It is still limited by the shape of the building, and the need for rooms of special sizes; some corridors come to an abrupt end or suddenly narrow or widen.

At this time of the day, it's mostly deserted- everyone is already at work- so you can just relax and enjoy the sights. You still tense up a bit whenever you pass a stray changeling, your paranoia from last night not entirely dissipated yet.

You note that the architecture here is quite different from the rest of the Tower. Instead of instilling a sense of awe or intimidation it's simply... pleasant. Chandeliers cast a soft light over gray walls draped with curtains and the occasional artwork. The floor tiles are brick rather than marble or some other stone, giving you the impression you're walking along a street rather than inside a building. Even the doors to rooms are reminiscent of storefronts and office building entrances.

Hm. There must have been a thriving city center here before the Tower was built. Perhaps it was planned on the same street layout?

It's when you spot a large squad of armed Reichsarmee soldiers silently moving down the corridor in your direction that you decide to cut your little tour short. They're almost certainly just passing by, and not looking for you, but you'd better not risk getting into trouble. You instead turn around and retrace your hooftsteps back to where you faintly remember seeing a sign to the post office.

It isn't hard to find. A massive sign hanging from the ceiling of the hallway proudly declares Post Vesalipolis. The post office itself opens directly in the corridor. The only thing separating it is a sparse series of supporting walls and pillars along what would normally be the wall. 'Inside', a long counter runs in front of a series of lockers built into the wall, with benches lining the supporting walls opposite.

Aside from a couple of workers seeing to a group of changelings picking up letters and packages, and another few employees mopping the floor and dusting the counter, it's completely empty. The post office was clearly built to handle hundreds of visitors at once- you guess the loose separation between the post office and the hallway is so no one has to wait at a door- but at this time of the day, it's nowhere near capacity. You don't spot any mailponies- mail-lings?- either.

You recall the post office back in your neighborhood in Canterlot. The little building was always full of ponies clamouring to receive long-awaited packages or send urgent letters, with couriers chaotically flying in and out- literally, in the case of pegasi- as they delivered between the office and the city mail center, or individual households.

There's none of that here, though. You go in and you come out. You can't imagine striking a friendly conversation with these stiff, faceless employees, changeling or not, like you would with the postmasters back home.

Anyways, you have a letter to send. There are stacks of thick paper, pens, and envelopes conveniently placed at intervals along the counter. You grab a pen and paper with your magic and lay it on the counter. You've had plenty of time to think about the actual contents of the letter while you were exploring.

You carefully write out each letter in a mechanical, blocky font, making sure there's nothing to indicate your identity.

To the Eisenwagen,
Thank you for your assistance. Your customer support agent provided me with some very treasured resources on how to approach my problem. However, I would like to request further assistance in utilizing said resources. It is all quite unclear and, though I am asking my good aunt for assistance, it will be some time before she gets back to me. Please send your response to the last place I saw your customer support agent. I may not be personally present to pick it up, in which case simply leave it in a discreet location.
Warm regards,
A potential customer.

The good old 'this is a perfectly normal conversation' trick. What is to the average reader a slightly awkward letter should be a very clear appeal for help to the Eisenwagen people, if they're capable of adding two and two. If Ella has actually contacted them, that is. Maybe she hasn't got the chance to and you're about to make a random anti-government group very, very confused.

Either way, there's nearly no risk to you. You slide the folded letter into an envelope and press a piece of wax to it with your magic.

You consider for a moment what to seal it with. Something impressionable, but that can't be connected to you.

Poking your horn into the wax, you make two sharp incisions. One long, vertical one, intersected by a short, horizontal line near its base. A dagger. You melt the wax with your magic and press it into the envelope. The dagger symbol warps somewhat, but it's still recognizable.

Scribbling 'Eisenwagen' on it, as Ella instructed you last night, you look around to see if anyone is watching. It seems they're all still preoccupied in their tasks. You simply leave the letter on the counter and hope it'll reach its destination, calmly exiting the room as if you've just been looking around.

Hopefully you don't have to worry about the Eisenwagen for now. You'll have to keep checking the stairwell next to the lobby for a response. It'll be a little inconvenient, but by not giving a specific location you ensure only Ella knows where to find you.

Damn, maybe you are cut out to be a spy after all. You're collecting vital information, making friends, and as far you can tell no one's remotely suspicious of you yet. You take a deep breathe and allow yourself to relax as you enter the atrium. There's nothing to worry about. There's no pressure or time limit breathing down your neck-

Gah, look at the time! It's nearly two o'clock! You need to get to the State Bank NOW. You fly- metaphorically- past steadily growing crowds of office workers and other 'lings entering or leaving the Tower in search of lunch. You get quite a few angry shouts and glares as you shove past random 'lings, but there's no time to be polite if you want to find Captain Konrad.

You reach the elevators and spot a nearly full one. The attendant has their hoof on the sliding door.

"Wait! Don't close the door!" You stumble and trip in your haste, sliding the rest of the way into the elevator on your belly.

"Missus, ya could have just asked. No need for them- for fancy maneuvers. You ain't a racecar," Adelheid complains as he helps you stand up.

You grin sheepishly at him. "I, uh, slipped. Floor forty-three, please."

"Right."

You stand near the door of the elevator, taking a quick glance at the changelings. There's a pair of office workers silently chatting, an old couple in fancy clothes, and a trio of rowdy soldiers loudly laughing and joking. You turn your muzzle away from them.

You're reluctant to make conversation with Adelheid with the other changelings in the elevator, and simply watch as they get in and out. When you reach your destination you simply give him a nod before entering the lobby.

A large group of changelings in office shirts are waiting to board the elevator. You suddenly realize they must be from the State Bank and start scanning each face for Captain Konrad.

"Are you searching for someling, madame?"

You turn around to see Lord Tibia alone in the lobby.

"Uh, yeah, actually. There was a 'Captain Konrad' at the, uh, State Bank yesterday. I think he works for you and I wanted to talk to him."

Lord Tibia strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Well, madame, you've put me in quite the mess."

You blink at him. "What?"

"You see... Captain Konrad does indeed work for me- or rather, for Her Majesty's State Bank of Pax Chrysalia- but he is officially on leave at the moment. I'm afraid that I cannot disclose his current whereabouts as per military confidentiality law."

"Oh..."

"However..." Lord Tibia winks at you with a glint in his eye. "You already know his whereabouts. You know that he lives on the fifth floor of Block C in the Heer Housing Complex, just north of the Great Queen's Tower."

"Uh, thanks?" You have no idea why Lord Tibia would help you without asking why you're looking for Captain Konrad, but you'll take it. "Yeah. Thank you. Wait, I could have just asked you this earlier in the morning..." you mutter the last statement to yourself. Why did you get it in your head that you needed to wait for some lunch break? Lord Tibia was there the whole time.

Lord Tibia nods back. "Good luck on your endeavours, madame. I must warn you, though. The good captain will not be in an agreeable mood."

"He did seem pretty, uh, upset yesterday..." You muse. "I'll be careful."

"Missus, Lord Tibia, I don't mean to rush ya but we've got a lotta 'lings waiting here. Are ya coming or not?" Adelheid calls out. You step back into the elevator.

"You gentlelings go ahead. I shall see to some unfinished work in the meantime." Lord Tibia steps back from the elevator and watches silently as the door closes and it slides down.

You slip down the smallest alleyway off the north of Tower Plaza you can find. It feels good to be outdoors again. Despite the biting, chilly air, the rays of the high sun against your fur make you feel warmer than you ever did in the Tower. It feels good to be able to move without worrying as much about being watched, too.

You have a map in your saddlebags that you picked up for free from the hotel reception, which thankfully has the Heer Housing Complex very clearly marked just a couple of kilometers north of Tower Plaza.

Passing between the rows of towering apartment buildings, you eventually arrive on a commercial street full of changelings. You stop and eye a busy inn. It's not the homely furniture and electric heaters that draw you in, it's the sign declaring 'Telephones Here'.

You quietly open the door and trot around full tables towards the back of the inn, where two telephones sit unattended. There's some sort of celebration going on, with a soldier standing on a table and giving a fiery speech to much cheering.

At least, you guess it's fiery. You don't pay much attention as you pick up a telephone receiver and dial '0' for the operator.

The response is so immediate you look around, thinking someone else is speaking to you for a second.

"Switchboard operator, Tower Plaza. Good afternoon, how can I assist you?"

"Yeah, uh, can I get a line to Vaverfront, Olenia?"

You know S.M.I.L.E has safehouses and listening posts all across Olenia and occupied Equestria. This is the quickest way you can think of getting them to arrange collection for the intelligence you've gotten. The line is silent for a moment before another operator picks up, this one a deer with a strong Olenian accent. "Vaverfront telephone service."

"Could you put me through to, uh, a specific number?"

"Sure. Read it out now."

You carefully pronounce the number for the local listening post by memory. The line falls silent again.

"Hello?" You ask carefully in Equestrian-language. Still, no response.

Ah, right. This is an insecure line. You pull out the telephone cable slightly and stick your horn against the exposed copper wire. With your magic, you run a specific current through it, very, very unreliably encrypting and decrypting the signals. You just have to pray S.M.I.L.E encryption hasn't changed in the past few weeks.

"Hello, hello?"

A pause.

"Who is this?" comes a short, snappy response, punctuated by a shriek of static.

You let out a sigh of relief. Your improvised encryption/decryption is actually working. You check noone is listening- the 'lings are still focused on that soldier- before whispering, "Agent Cold Strike. I've successfully infiltrated the, uh, Tower in Vesalipolis. I have obtained vital information and drawn up maps of the Tower. My cover is intact. Please advise."

Another pause. This one unnervingly long.

The voice suddenly comes back. "Agent, I have the Director herself listening in for the next five minutes. She's taken a personal interest in your operation. A full report of the situation is expected, but that will be collected by a courier. Make your five minutes count."

Five minutes? The Director!? You've only met her once, but you know she's one of the most important ponies in Equestria right now. And the most important in the intelligence community. Why is she personally listening to some random agent?

Still, it's a great opportunity. The Director could point at a mountain and have it moved. And here you are, telling her which mountain should be moved.

"Understood. When is the, uh, Director going to tune in?"

"She's already connected to the receiving line. Four minutes, fifty seconds."

Ack. Think fast. What's more important?

The layout of the Tower, with its hidden underground area? The document you got seems important, but it's so vague... it might not look good if you talk about it without figuring out what it means first.

You could introduce the Eisenwagen... S.M.I.L.E is always interested in finding changeling groups to aid the fight against Queen Chrysalis. This one seems to be embedded right at the heart of the Changeling government itself. Still, like with the document, you know almost nothing about it.

It's time to choose...

What do you want to primarily tell the Director about?

A - Explain what you've learned about the Great Queen's Tower.
B - Talk about the document you found.
C - Emphasize the potential value of the Eisenwagen as an ally of Equestria.

This choice will not have immediate implications, but is significant. Choose wisely.

Option B wins the vote with 66.6% of 3 total votes.

Author's Note

And finally after only eight chapters we reach the spy part of the spy fic! Spy stuff is actually pretty fun to write, it turns out, especially when combined with magic.

In other news, here's a fun new kind of choice. Whereas all the previous choices have had an immediate effect, this one will not materialize for a while. This kind of choice will build up background and context for future events in both this fic and the universe. You won't get them a lot, though, so...

Choose wisely.

Chapter 10: The Good Captain

"Uhhh ehmehmmmmm..." you mumble into the telephone receiver as you plan out what you'll say. Five minutes with one of the most important ponies on the continent feels like such a short amount of time...

Cold Strike. Time. Running. Out. Form. Words!

"...uhh- I've successfully entered the Queen's Tower and made contact with some high-profile individuals. My documents were accepted and I don't think I've raised any suspicions. Er, to me in particular. Last night I followed a pair of scientists into an underground section of the Tower- one that doesn't appear on any maps, that I think they're hiding from the public- and managed to steal a folder with two papers. I couldn't make any sense of the first one..."

You're referring to the utterly torn, destroyed paper you found in the folder. A pile of dirt would be more meaningful, but you've kept it safely in your saddlebags with the other document. Just in case.

"...but the other document, it's full of... dates. They're demonstrating something at a secret 'test site'- they being a 'Nationale Energiekommission'- National Energy Commission. I think it's something big. There's a 'royal demonstration' on the fifteenth of October- that's in twelve days."

You glance at the clock. Three minutes left. What else, what else...?

"There's two other demonstrations. Uh, one starts today, and the other is the day after tomorrow. The Reichsarmee will be there, and an ethics council-"

The operator's voice is sharp. "Agent, stand by."

"Stand by!?" you respond much louder than intended. You look around the inn to see if anyone noticed, but they're still focused on the loud, fanatic changeling soldier. "Stand by?" you repeat much more quietly.

"The Director wants to talk to you personally. I'm trying to get a secure receiving line," explains the operator. "And... there."

"Agent. There's only three minutes till the, ugh, press meeting, so unfortunately we can't talk as long as I'd like to." The voice is contained, refined, cracked from the burden of six years of war. Yet, even through the static you can tell it retains an element of warmth and comfort.

"Pr- uh, yes, Director." You've only spoken to the Director face-to-face once, right after you finished training, but you've seen and heard her voice everywhere; she regularly appears in the newspapers and radio addresses.

"I want you to pursue this lead as strongly as possible, Cold Strike. That's a direct order. Move at your own discretion, be careful, but find out as much as you can about these demonstrations before the fifteenth. Everything else can come afterwards."

That's what you were doing anyways, but it feels reassuring to hear it from the Director. You're on the right track.

"Have you found anything about our missing agent? Any leads?"

"No... but it's only been a day. Uh, I found something else. There was a changeling who helped me, called, uh... 'Ella'." You neglect to mention that you almost killed each other during your initial encounter. "She claims she's part of, uh, an organization called the 'Eisenwagen'. I'm trying to establish contact with them. Do you, uh, know anything about...?"

There's a short pause. "I can't say I've heard of them. And- that's my time. We'll get someone to pick up your report in a couple of days, just arrange it with the listening post. And, Cold Strike-"

She sounds serious. You listen carefully. "Yes, Director?"

"Make friends, Cold Strike. Friendship is... important. That will be all, Agent."

You wince at the sharp burst of static as she puts down the telephone receiver. 'Make friends'? With who, the changelings? Maybe she meant to look for allies of the Equestrian government?

"Agent, we can get an accomplice to pick up your report on the... eighth of October, from Vesalipolis Central. Grey-marked changeling with green eyes and a straw hat. The phrase is 'Stars are pretty...' and the response is '...but Luna shines brighter.'" the listening post agent explains.

You pull out a notepad and pencil and quickly jot all the information down. You're not keen on blowing your cover by misremembering a key detail.

"Right, I've got it... what time should I be there?"

"Let's say dusk. Less people around. If the accomplice doesn't show within an hour, bail and try to call us again. Anything else you need, Agent?"

You glance behind you and realize a couple of changelings are staring. It seems the soldier is wrapping up. "Nothing for now, I'll just put it in the report. Uh, bye."

"Good luck, Agent." The line is cut.

You dispel any spells you've cast on the phone and put down the receiver. Finally talking to a friendly pony after weeks in the Changeling Lands feels cathartic.

As you trot out of the inn, hugging the wall and trying to pick up any attention, you listen in to the soldier's speech.

"And with this, we will finally reclaim what is rightfully ours! We have crushed the deer, and beat the bears at their own game. Soon the supposedly unbreakable yaks will fall too."

You scoot past a small crowd gathered near the entrance. Each changeling glares at you as you pass.

"Then with hardened hooves we shall tear down the harmonists and communists. The only future for Equus is Pax Chrysalia, and the only future for its inhabitants is as citizens of a changeling hegemony."

Under thunderous applause and shouting you slip back out into the street.

It's strangely quiet and deserted outside, despite being busy just a few minutes ago. You move easily through the nearly empty streets, feeling more free without worrying about changelings looking at you.

The streets are much wider here than in Canterlot. Almost all of them are paved with heavy bricks or asphalt for motor vehicles, which are a frequent sight. The distant sound of motor engines is everpresent, mixing in with the regular hubbub of the city. Dammit, you're starting to miss the peaceful silence of the Tower already.

You don't have to go far before you reach a walled off area; the Heer Housing Complex. Beyond the wall you can see large apartment buildings- much larger than the already towering ones that lined the streets. They look much newer and more modern than the ancient hive buildings you've seen so far; like the Great Queen's Tower, these buildings are fashioned out of steel and concrete rather than bricks and wood.

You're not sure what the point of the wall is when changelings can just fly. Thankfully you find an ornate gate set into the wall as you walk along it. There doesn't seem to be any guards around, so you just slip in and find yourself in a small back garden behind one of the apartment blocks. A few chairs and tables with parasols lie haphazardly between neat flowerbeds and bushes.

A pair of changelings are sitting silently at one of the tables. They glance at you but don't raise any objections.

Might as well ask them for directions. "Uh, hey! Do you know where Block C is?"

The changelings don't respond. Damn changelings. You realize they look pretty old, too; the chitin around their muzzles is cracked and greying, and their eyes have deep lines around them.

"Uh, I'm talking to you two. I'm looking for Block C."

"Why would you show your muzzle here, pony?" growls one of the changelings, not looking at you. "Do you have a death wish?"

You glare back at her, slightly confused and unsure how to respond. You only asked a question.

The other changeling sighs. "Honey, please. Not right now. You need to rest, not scream at... ponies."

"No, I want to know what a pony is doing here. What ungodly work are you up to, pony? Are you here to spy on us? Are you an assassin? Well, there's nothing left to spy on or kill here, yeah? So just... scram." The changeling collapses on the table, slightly exhausted from giving such a furious monologue.

"...whar?" Your heart nearly stopped at the 'spy' part, but it seems she's just throwing a crazed rant at you rather than actual accusations.

"Let's go inside, honey. We can put on that record you always like listening to, and I'll make some lunch. Yeah?" The second changeling helps the other one stand up, and glares at you. As if you've done something wrong. "She's right, though. What could you possibly be here for?"

"I'm seeing a Captain Konrad." What's so important about this place? It's just an apartment complex. "I- please, just point me to Block C. I'm not here to bother anyone."

The changeling's expression softens. "Heh. You'll be doing plenty of bothering, whether you intend to or not. This is Block C, right here, by the Queen and her kingdom." He abruptly turns to leave, guiding the other changeling- his partner?- back inside.

You wait for them to disappear through a pair of glass doors before trotting over to the building and looking up. It's certainly no Tower, but it's big in its own right. Perhaps fourteen or fifteen stories. You note the lack of protruding landing platforms that adorn most other changeling buildings, likely for security; everyone is forced to go through the ground floor first.

Didn't stop you, though.

You push through the glass doors and find yourself in a tiny reception room. There's no one at the desk- this is probably just a secondary reception, given this is the back entrance- but the bulletin board behind it is full of various bright pamphlets and forms.

You skim over various security notices and codes of conduct, noting an unusual amount of pamphlets related to veterans' events.

Oh... 'Heer Housing Complex'. Army Housing Complex. These aren't just any apartments, they're specifically built for soldiers and veterans.

You feel distinctly uncomfortable as you realize you're in a building of changelings who have almost certainly been fighting ponies just a few years ago.

Also, your Changeling-language skills suck.

You locate a stairwell right off the reception, which saves you from having to go through the main reception room, and climb up it till you reach the fifth floor. It's actually much nicer than the stairwell in the Tower. The walls and railings are freshly painted and it's brightly lit by exterior windows. Windows, in a changeling building. Unimaginable.

The stairwell has doors going in two opposite directions on each floor. At the fifth floor you take a random door and enter a hallway with windows on one side and apartment doors on the other. Each door has a name plate- changelings really seem to love those- and you read each one in turn.

Most of the names have '(a.D)' at the end of them, indicating the occupant is retired, and all of them have military ranks. After twenty or so doors you nearly miss 'Korvettenkapitän Konrad'.

A Navy officer in the Army Housing Complex? Hm.

You knock loudly on the door and wait. After a few moments, the door opens and an annoyed looking Captain Konrad peeks out.

"Didn't believe my eyes when I saw a pony standing outside through the peekhole. You're not here to arrest me, you're not delivering food, and you're not offering condolences. What do you want?" He lazily throws open the door, revealing a rifle leaning against the wall of the entrance hall.

"I'm just here to talk, Captain. Uh, you might recognize me from the State Bank yesterday. Berthold threw me out."

Konrad snorts. "Yeah, I remember you. I'm surprised you just left. Spineless aren't you?"

Your muzzle heats up. "I was- it seemed like a bad time."

"Great. Well, this is a bad time to see me. Goodbye." He moves to shut the door but you wedge your hoof in before it closes.

"Hold on! Just- hear me out."

"Listen, my brother is dead, I've had a shit day and I've got fifteen rounds of ammunition," he growls.

You gape at him. "You won't shoot me!"

"You want to disprove that?"

Ordinarily you'd just leave and come back later, but... you have a time limit now. Thirteen days isn't a lot of time to get top-secret information. You can't afford to waste any time.

You could try to naturally get him talking. Offering condolences for his brother would be a start...

Or, heck it, you could be bold and show him the secret document directly. You recall him ranting about Queen Chrysalis back in the State Bank. It's risky, but in the worst case scenario you can play it off as something you found by chance and see if Konrad does anything about it. He doesn't seem to care about the authorities given he just threatened to kill you.

It's time to choose...

What do you do about Captain Konrad?

A - Come back later.
B - Try to talk and reason with him.
C - Show him the document with the dates on it.

Option C wins the vote with 66% of 3 total votes.