It’s a beautiful late summer afternoon in Upper Canterlot. The sun is bathing the white streets in its light and reflecting from the gold decorations all over the spires and buildings of the city built into the side of the Canterlot mountain. With the upper city located so high, the wind is cool enough to soften the heat caused by the direct sunlight and turn today as close to perfect as it can be. Even one purple, extremely smart, and notoriously paranoid alicorn mare sitting at the window table of one rather peculiar establishment in the mountainside district can’t think of anything to make the day better. Said establishment takes up the bottom floor of a white, three-story building that looks shabby for Upper Canterlot but is well-kept even for the mountainside district where most common workers who don't want to live in the lower city and commute twice a day live. The aspect of the place that has been repeatedly bringing Twilight Sparkle here is that it’s full of changelings.

As the Princess of Friendship, or more exactly as the Equestrian head diplomat, Twilight has had the opportunity to visit places in and outside of Equestria and study lost tribes and civilizations not even most historians know about. However, two major species have, until recently, eluded her - the minotaurs and the changelings. With the isolationist minotaurs extremely rarely venturing out of their city of Rift inside Mount Everhoof north of the Crystal Empire, the changelings, who were allowed to live in Equestria in the open several years ago and took the opportunity quickly, have been the prime target of her curiosity ever since, with this establishment being the center of her exploration.

The place is a strange mix of what seems to be a general store and, from the information Twilight has gathered so far, a changeling version of a soup kitchen. Like in any standard store, there’s a counter in the back behind which a dark purple changeling going by the name Whispershade sells an eclectic assortment of items to customers, from trinkets and tools to baked goods. Twilight is one of the very few pony customers who pass through here, ‘pass’ at the moment meaning that she’s enjoying a bowl of cereal -don’t judge, they make a delicious brand here which she couldn’t find anywhere else, full of gummies, chocolate, and overall unhealthy amount of sugar- and milk at a table by an open window while watching roughly twenty currently present changelings. Her analytical mind is partially observing their behavior for any suspicious signs, but that part is almost entirely overridden by her curiosity regarding culture which she’s barely had any chance to interact with. The major takeaway from her today’s observation remains the same - this place is a cultural center for a minor community where they can sit down after work, share news, and possibly ask others with different connections for help, just like there is one for every other minority in every big city she’s ever visited. Obviously, there are differences from kirins, griffons, or zebras, due to the inherently alien nature of the changelings, one in particular being Twilight’s inability to become friends with them. Despite the princess having spent countless hours during the past three months here, the changelings have always been polite and open about any casual topic but detached and evasive regarding anything changeling-specific.

Twilight sighs and levitates another teeth-rotting spoonful into her mouth. A small journal flies out of the saddlebag fastened around her barrel and opens depressingly near the beginning, which is also the page of the last entry.

Anything, give me ANYTHING I can write down!

In order to give her mind a push, she silently re-reads her last entry written over a week ago:

When trading among themselves, changelings seem to use some kind of green crystals in place of Equestrian bits. However, they must be as much food as currency because I’ve seen a changeling take a small one from a ‘take what you need, leave what you can’ bowl on the counter to a table and make it disintegrate into nothing but a miniscule amount of liquid which evaporated shortly after. Some changelings bring these crystals and give them to Whispershade without getting anything in return. My working hypothesis is that they are some form of storing love, and successful changelings leave what they can spare here for the less fortunate ones. Like with any changeling-specific topic, I got stonewalled when I asked if I could take one with me (for research). Offering bits led nowhere either, as Whispershade said that changelings helping one another was the principle of things. I get solidarity but COME ON!

When Twilight’s brain draws blanks yet again, she flips to a previous entry:

Despite changelings presumably not needing to eat pony food, they do have a sense of taste and the ones around here seem to enjoy sweets in particular. Possibly some kind of evolutionary pressure? Is sugar the closest thing their bodies can use as fuel in place of emotional energy? Is it entirely a random taste thing and they can’t use the nutrients at all? Give me a week with a changeling in my underground laboratory and I won’t need to ask a question ever again!

A bell rings, heralding the cafe’s front door opening.Twilight shoots an equally frustrated and bored look sideways, just on the miniscule chance that there might be anything new she could observe, and immediately angry-dragons milk out of her nostrils.

A changeling whom she’s never seen before has just entered, and one that’s visually distinct from everyone else here. It’s a stocky female, but compared to both male and female changelings around the cafe she’s so small that the tip of her tiny horn reaches only to the barrel of the presumably adult females. It’s not just her size that’s unusual, though. There are also zebra-like, grey stripes lighter than the rest of her all over her carapace. While that accounts for the physical distinctions, the young one is also wearing a tablet hanging on her neck using a leather strap with adjustable clamps and carrying an array of four worn but quality saddlebags on the sides of her barrel using a harness as well as a bulging backpack on her back. In fact, the baggage is almost as big as she is.

A TINY female changeling! A filly? Do they have fillies? There are so many stories about changeling reproduction, mostly among Rarity’s trash novels, but no one has any scientific document on their lifecycle. What’s the tablet for? Is she unusually strong to carry all that? Why is she striped? Is changeling base form somehow hereditary? Calm down, Twilight! If you rush at her you’ll just scare her. This calls for subtlety.

Taking a deep breath to focus, Twilight casts a scrying spell on the bowl of her remaining cereal, the contents of which turn into a see-through window with a minor fish-eye effect. The changelings don’t notice, but a lens of bent air that’s the input for Twilight’s spell appears behind Whispershade’s neck and lets her carefully watch the small changeling approach the cafe owner. None of the other patrons seems surprised. In fact, several wave at the newcomer who waves back wildly with just the biggest smile and much more flailing enthusiasm. One small tweak of the spell later, Twilight gains the ability to hear via the lens as well.

When the small one pulls up a spare chair from the nearest table that’s quickly offered by two changelings sitting at it to the counter and climbs onto it, Whispershade slides the ‘take what you need, leave what you can’ bowl with the green crystals over to her.

“I’m happy to see you safe and sound, Smiley. How’s life treating you?” he asks.

Twilight blinks in surprise at hearing the changeling’s name.

It can’t be… this little critter is Smiley?

What eventually led Twilight to Whispershade’s cafe the previously mentioned three months ago was a silly little pamphlet someone left in the Sugarcube Corner in Ponyville some two months earlier. Pinkie Pie, of course, read it and, knowing about Twilight’s obsession with hunting for knowledge, brought it over. The pamphlet was called Smiley’s Scribbles. Normally, Twilight wouldn’t bother with anything outside the format of a book or an ancient scroll, but that time it was different. In addition to detailed descriptions of life in Northern San Palomino, of all places, the pamphlet contained what were supposed to be messages and questions from some members of the changeling hive the author called ‘drones’ and said that if any changeling was willing to answer those the author would compensate them. As curious as Twilight was, the questions were downright silly, ranging from “I heard there are shiny ponies. Is that true?” to “Are there swarming biters in pony land?”, and she dismissed the pamphlet as irrelevant. However, several days later Pinkie told Twilight that an actual changeling asked about it. On top of that, a new edition of Smiley’s Scribbles arrived during the following month, this time with author’s description of overnight camping in the forest, ‘thank you’ from the drones for the answers along with, most importantly, the author saying that that was the first month in history during which no drone got eaten, crushed, or killed in any manner. As celebration, the drones were let outside and 99856 -from the context Twilight assumed that the number referred to a changeling- made “shiny boomies” for everyone, and only 3 drones got scorched because they were so enthralled with the sparklers they forgot to throw them. Long story short, Twilight took the time to read every new edition delivered to Ponyville after that, and in time learned about the opening of Whispershade’s cafe which, to her delight, had every single edition of Smiley’s Scribbles for Twilight to read. The quality of writing went up dramatically with each edition, the font got better, and at some point after the cafe’s opening the writing turned to print. What remained a mystery, however, was the author. Until now.

Without a word, Smiley raises a foreleg and, with a shimmer of transforming green fire, reveals a single hole in it that’s holding a similar yet slightly different green crystal. This one is smooth, shaped like an egg, and tinted with rusty hue. It fails to fall out of the hole onto the tray, so Smiley smacks her foreleg with the other one a couple times until it does. Whispershade raises it to his muzzle and examines it.

“Ooh, one of 99856’s inventions you wrote about,” he says, “Can I keep it?”

Smiley shakes her head and points to the empty leg hole. A brief foreleg transformation later, she reveals three holes in each, all but one filled with the same, smooth crystals.

“It never occurred to me that the way to avoid the love dissipating over time would be to carry the crystals in this way. You don’t need to actively feed much, do you?” Whispershade smiles at her and puts the crystal down. Smiley shakes her head again before hesitating and slowly pointing to the glass case on the counter showcasing pieces of today’s baked goods on sale. Whispershade chuckles, “Not what I meant, but I understand,” while he serves a fresh piece of cake to Smiley, he asks, “What brings you here today, anyway? Just dropping off love? Not that I’m complaining.”

Twilight, muzzle almost plunged into her bowl of scrying cereal to not miss any detail, grins.

Crystals containing love, that’s what those are! So they ARE food and currency at the same time. After all, what use would bits be to a changeling who needs to buy love?

Her pencil scribbles into her open notebook as she watches Smiley let a string of green drool out of her mouth. The saliva immediately hardens into a thin needle which the changeling sticks into a slit in her hoof and starts writing on the tablet around her neck in the manner of a griffon, leaving behind neat, white, chalky letters:

[Greetings, Mister Whispershade! I’m bringing the new issue of Smiley’s Scribbles and some spare love.]

Whispershade reads the message and pats Smiley’s head.

“The time when you needed to be formal with me is long gone, little lady,” the changeling stallion’s horn lights up with a purple shimmer when he picks up Smiley’s crystal from the counter again. Twilight’s best guess, as the crystal loses its green gleam, is that he’s draining the love it’s holding. In contrast to Twilight’s previous observations, the crystal doesn’t melt.

Is the invention that Whispershade mentioned a lasting love storage crystal?

Smiley beams at him with a new message of:

[Gotta practice!]

“That’s commendable. Speaking of commendations, 65536 stopped by two weeks ago and asked me to tell you that he’s proud of you and to give you this,” Whispershade leans under the counter and pulls out a stack of envelopes. Smiley scrunches her nose as she glances the way of Twilight’s spying lens, but that’s all that happens before the stallion rises again, “Since you don’t have an address and 65536 is a pretty high profile changeling, some of these ended at the castle.”

Smiley gasps.

[I GET MALE?]

“Ahem,” Whispershade clears his throat and taps Smiley’s tablet, “You got a little too excited, didn’t you?”

Smiley reads her slate and briefly hides her face behind hooves before fixing her message:

[Did I get mail?]

“You did,” Whispershade smiles, “and not just that.”

He leans down again, but this time Twilight doesn’t react quickly enough to hide her spell because Smiley clearly notices her and starts waving and pointing at where the lens was, her mouth opening and closing and chittering like a startled cat. To hide her involvement, Twilight has to dispel her scrying magic entirely. Without her spell, Twilight hears only a hushed conversation. Moments later, Whispershade approaches her table with Smiley in tow, the slate on Smiley’s neck reading [floaty poni hed purple!!!], and opens with:

“Smiley, this is Her Highness Twilight Sparkle. She’s a very important pony. Your Highness, this is Smiley. I hope this doesn’t land me a visit from the Royal Guard, but I must stress that listening in on other ponies’ conversations isn’t particularly polite or friendly. What’s worse - you spooked the girl, and drones in general have a lot easier time thinking when they’re not scared or too excited. I mean, that works for everyone, but goes double for them.”

So much for secrecy.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight doesn’t bother lying to the changeling and looks from him to Smiley who’s examining her with her head tilted sideways, “I’ve never seen a changeling… drone, was it? You guys aren’t keen on sharing details about yourselves and I didn’t want to bother you in person, so I took a chance to observe somepony new. If it helps, I genuinely enjoy reading Smiley’s Scribbles and I’m happy to meet the… author?”

Smiley beams and offers a hoof which Twilight shakes. With Smiley’s spook clearly being a thing of the past and the small changeling happily pumping the purple alicorn’s hoof, Whispershade thaws as well.

“I suppose nothing bad happened, so it’s alright. A little spook here and there keeps one on their hooves,” he pats Smiley, “Let’s go, Smiley. There’s an unfinished piece of cake with your name on it- not literally, that means it’s for you,” he adds when Smiley quickly looks around, ears suddenly perked up.

“Say,” Twilight peeps, “Any chance I could read the new Scribbles? I promise to not teleport away with it. I-” Twilight’s horn flashes and a piece of paper appears on the table, “-can give you a cinema ticket for this Friday. It’s for a documentary on pre-Equestrian pegasus society. You could write one of your reviews into the next issue of Scribbles,” she offers. She knows the answer even before she’s finished speaking, because Smiley’s eyes go wide and she starts vibrating on the spot. The little changeling nods and pulls out a stack of papers which she lays on Twilight’s table.

“Take your time,” says Whispershade while Smiley stashes the ticket, “Smiley always leaves the manuscripts here. One of my friends picks those up and prints out the copies that go into circulation.”

“Thank you,” Twilight smiles apologetically, “And once again - sorry.”

As the two changelings return to the counter and Smiley resumes munching on the cake, Twilight breathes a sigh of relief and starts reading through the papers. The writing is simplistic, lacks any classical structure, but is grammatically correct, which Twilight appreciates. As is Scribbles’ standard by now, the first section, after Smiley wishing anyone reading a good day, are movie summaries.

“A documentary on pre-Equestrian methods of papyrus making, I saw that one,” Twilight hums in appreciation, “A changeling after my own heart.”

Smiley’s reviews are always a little confused, as if the author had little to no general context on the topic, but unlike usual movie critics, she never fails to find something interesting even in the worst movies. Over her months of reading Scribbles’ issues, however, Twilight noticed that technical topics and documentaries with primitive guides always earned the highest word count and attention. Same here. The history itself, which was the focus of the movie, is glossed over, but the details of making primitive paper could serve as a step-by-step guide for somepony sufficiently experimental or desperate. She flips to the next movie.

“Unsatisfied mares and over-endowed pool colts 3, oh dear…” Twilight blushes while reading the summary, “A socio-economic documentary on alternative payment methods and details of love transfer. The plot is a little confusing but I must admit I haven’t seen parts 1 and 2-”

How does ‘a changeling’ not understand clop? Do ponies understand the whole changeling concept wrong in the same way they misunderstand Cadance’s aspect of love?

“Underbelly tube that’s used to both pump and suck out love- that girl needs some biology lessons pronto,” Twilight shakes her head, scribbles ‘drone lacks basic bio. knw. Unique or general?’ and skips to the next movie, “Conna the Marebarian. As usual - plot recap, Smiley is interested in ponies without hair,” she keeps mumbling to herself until she gets to the end with a raised eyebrow, “A lot of bonking and slashing, but in the end the good guys won and got a huge shiny from a big tower.”

With a sip of her now non-magical cereal, Twilight flips to the next set of Smiley’s notes, her eyes twinkling with renewed interest. It’s the festival section.

“The Hayseed Cook-off. If I recall correctly, that happened over a month and a half ago, but if Scribbles is also for hive changelings who don’t often leave the hive it’s not a problem. A three-day festival where the Hayseed Swamp settlements’ cooks gather in the center of the swamp and prepare delicious specialties caught on the spot,” her eyes flick over the page, much faster than her mouth, “Hard disagreement there, they cook everything simmered in local moonshine or it wouldn’t be even remotely edible. It’s no surprise when one of the cook-off contestants ends in a massive explosion.”

The next set of notes falls under the header of “Noms” which, according to Twilight’s best guess, means food.

“Grilled leggy suck-grabber,” the alicorn ponders the following description, “Octopus, right! Tastes… tastes squishy and burny in a good way? Not even Smiley seems convinced. Next - treats made from buzzing zappy jabbers’ goop. What could that be- bee? Bee! Lightning bee honey. Super sweet and fizzy- agreed. Huh, Smiley liked those so much she visited a store that sells them in Maretime Bay. Name, location, opening hours, everything,” Twilight shrugs, “Free promotion is a free promotion, no matter how small.”

Twilight checks the papers from both sides before moving on to the final set of notes. There’s nothing more on the festival food which, in Twilight’s mind, is accurate, because swamp food is horrible, slimy slop not worth sparing a thought in general. Can’t beat a good hayburger.

“Hive news! Hell-oo research!” Twilight smirks. As she reads further, the smirk on her lips freezes before her mouth slowly opens into an O. She reads out loud again, unable to believe her stroke of luck, in a weak and shaky voice, “An exchange program… a group of three drones to visit the Crystal Empire… requires a place to stay. In return, a pony will be allowed to visit the hive… bring your own supplies… full access to the hive without oversight… potentially dangerous- hah, what worthwhile scientific endeavor isn’t? Anyone can apply at the Changeling Hive Embassy in Canterlot.”

With a pop of sucked-in air and a weak flash of light, Twilight vanishes and reappears by the counter. Smiley immediately jumps sideways seemingly from a solid sitting position, a chunk of cake still in her mouth, turns mind-air, and falls down on all fours while scrunching her face at Twilight. Everyone in the cafe looks at the Princess who, despite being self-admittedly not great at reading social cues, can see that she overstepped her boundaries by startling Smiley again.

“Your Highness!” Whispershade’s sharp tone only confirms her reading, “I told you to be careful around drones. Look what you did!” he points at Smiley’s slate covered by cake mess. With him pointing, Smiley looks down and notices the sweet mix on her forelegs now staining the floor. As if nothing happened, Smiley quickly licks the floor and her hooves clean, moves onto her tablet, and when even that’s done she writes: [Sorry, Mister Whispershade. I cleaned it after myself.]

“Smiley, I wasn’t mad at you,” he squints at Twilight.

“I’ll make it up to you,” with a second flash, she conjures up the Scribbles’ notes and leaves them sorted neatly on the counter, “I just have to ask - that exchange program thing, has anypony volunteered yet?”

Smiley shrugs.

[Probably not. I asked 99 yesterday.]

“Thank you!” Twilight lets out a breath of relief and vanishes with another flash and pop of displaced air.

“Seriously,” Whispershade shakes his head, “Princess or not, she-”

*Flash!* *Pop!*

Twilight reappears with a pouch of coins which she puts on the counter.

“Give Miss Smiley anything she wants,” she blurts out and vanishes again.

Smiley just points at where Twilight was a moment ago before giving Whispershade a pleading look.

“You’re not sure what just happened, are you?” Whispershade gives her a reassuring smile while patting her chair. Smiley nods and returns to her seat, “Impolite ponies aside, what do you know about teleportation magic?”

[Here -> there? Loud, shiny.]

“Huh,” the changeling waves his foreleg dismissively, “Close enough. You know what? The Princess left quite the sum of bits here, do you want to sample some of my new goods and add a note or two about them into the Scribbles?”

[Maximum yes!]

“Perfect.”

[If you need some advert space, just ask. I like this place and I’d like to meet more changelings to talk to here.]

Whispershade momentarily freezes at the ease with which Smiley saw through him, but he would be a poor changeling if he let it show. It’s a solid reminder that despite what ranked changelings generally think of drones, Smiley is much smarter than she seems at a casual glance.

I wonder if the ones in the hive are full of surprises as well.

“That’s okay, Smiley. I like the cozy atmosphere, and there’s always enough business to pay the rent. It’s not as if the point of this place is profit. Now, would you like to start off with the lava cake or the cheesecake?”

***

Shortly after, Twilight’s talking to Celestia inside the Canterlot castle’s Hall of Glory, the long corridor containing stained glass windows depicting heroic feats of heroes throughout history. Even the sun casting colorful rays through the stained glass can’t wash away the worry in Celestia’s expression.

“I’m against it. I’d rather anypony other than you go, but I can neither stop you nor help you with the changeling side of the deal. This is out of my jurisdiction, Twilight.”

“Technically, it isn’t. As the Princess of Friendship, I’m more a head diplomat, so I do have to ask you for a vacation. You know, my first one because, umm, I don’t really go outside much,” Twilight chuckles. In contrast to Celestia’s gloom, she’s buzzing with the energy of a thousand lists waiting to finally be crossed off, “And I already sent a letter to Cadance. The changeling trip to the Crystal Empire has all the green light it can get.”

“I see. Of course I won’t be stopping you, enjoy your vacation as much as you can, but I insist that you bring some adequate protection. While I might trust the general changeling public here in Canterlot, their Queen has a lot of ground to cover before she’s on my good side. The opinion of the few knowledgeable changelings I talk to on a regular basis doesn’t help her case either.”

“Wouldn’t sending some muscle-bound goon with me only make things worse?”

“I can’t see why. Chrysalis didn’t target your brother only because he was the Commander of the Royal Guard. All we need is to find a well-endowed Royal Guard with the right shade of mane and, if worst comes to worst, you leave him to Chrysalis and escape.”

“PRINCESS!” Twilight reels back in indignation, making Celestia snicker.

“Just kidding, of course. I have an idea for a company that won’t insult your hosts, but I’ll have to check up with Luna about that. Let me arrange your escort and you answer the changeling offer, okay?”

“Thank you, Princess.”

With a pop, Twilight vanishes.

Author's Note

Let's start off a new semi-standalone story.
Reading New Order (They're Everywhere -> They're on holiday -> They'Re home) first will give extra context.