“What a story!” Butter Scotch trotted around the room excitedly, furiously going over her notes. “To think, another battle at Canterlot is lost to history!”

Jachs had settled his nerves, colonizing the couch and leaning upon one of the armrests. “It was just a skirmish,” he corrected, “but I think it…well, I think it went a long way to showing the ponies that Chrysalis would step in to defend them. Even if, at that moment, it was against their own army.” He chuckled disarmingly, his bright green eyes alight as he glanced out through a window. His brow furrowed and he bit his lower lip.

Butter didn’t notice. “I worry I may…ahem, arouse the annoyance of uh…someling? Or is it some…pony?” Jachs met her gaze with an arched eyeridge. “But would you let me see them? Professional curiosity, of course.”

“The-- ah.” His forehoof went to his barrel, before crossing his chest protectively. “Isn’t that a bit personal for an interview?”

The reporter did not, apparently, care. She just shrugged her haunches and sat back on her hinds, smiling expectantly, and staring directly at Jachs’ chest. “Pretty please?” She asked, voice thickly sweet like her namesake. Suddenly the Generalmajor felt like a piece of meat.

“Alright…” He managed, though with a snort of righteous indignation. He slipped a forehoof into his coat and Butter sat up like she’d seen a ghost. Her eyes did not leave his lapel as he dropped his coat from his withers. “This one,” Jachs brought a fore to his chest. “Is the only one that stuck. The one that almost killed me.” He had borne his chest to the mare. Featureless changeling chitin, black and smoothe, except for a large crack across his right lung. It looked like someone had driven a piton into him. “Even sticks when I shapeshift. I’ll always have a scar or a cut there no matter the form I take.”

Butter Scotch was utterly and completely enraptured. She sat stock still, like she was watching a theater play, eyes locked upon Jachs’ chest. “Dashing.” She simply opined. Any more thoughts on the subject she did not vocalize.

“Yes…it’s uh, good that I don’t have much reason to do that, now.” Added the changeling, clearing his throat and closing his coat back.

“Yes! Quite.” Added Butter quickly after, shaking herself awake and banishing the sudden onrush of red to her cheeks. “Ahem. Subject change-- I believe this is when you finally met Marsilio? And…the other one. Mister Finicious Vesali?”

“Finicus.“ Jachs smiled, settling back into the couch, quietly thankful. “I’d known both before that day, actually, but I suppose I can clarify.”

-From “Memoirs Of A Changed Changeling” by Herr Jachs, Canterlot press, Equestrian Protectorate, 1,045.

Jachs felt the creeping tendrils of wakefulness drag him back to consciousness despite his kicking and screaming. His eyes opened. The first thing he saw was his own face reflected back at him through an empty bottle of vodka. Then, the two other empty bottles tipped over onto his desk.

He closed his eyes again, braced his forehooves against his desk, and forced himself to stand. The Generalmajor stumbled, his head pounded, but he kept himself upright.

Jachs couldn’t remember much of last night except a vague cold sensation in his chest that comes with nightmares. Always some atrocity he’d only heard about. Something he tacitly supported by aligning himself with Chrysalis. Something that, even if he didn’t personally commit them he still bore the blame.

Then, there was the one that he was personally responsible for…

He felt fire in his throat. Jachs stumbled to his trash can, leaned over it, and hurled. He coughed up his lungs as the sickly orange goop fell from his maw. His hoof found his throat, still coughing, and he fell against the far wall.

His head felt like it was splitting. The changeling ran his hooves over the carpeted office floor, focusing on his breathing. Slowly, in and out. He smacked his lips and realized he was violently thirsty. The rational part of his brain said the shattering headache was likely from dehydration. The other part told him it was just a fraction of what he deserved.

Jachs tried to stand again, to will himself back to work, but he stumbled once more. His hooves scrambled for the side of his desk and dragged off a bunch of logistics requests. He missed, and he found himself crashing back to the floor before slamming into it with a soft ‘thump’.

He marvelled at what a sorry sight he must be. The inheritor of Canterlot, splayed about the floor like a vagrant. The changeling almost laughed. Instead, his magic hovered down one of the vodka bottles and drew it up, before he remembered it was empty. Jachs glared at the thing as if in blame. He dropped it, it fell by his hooves, and he tried to stand again. With the sick churning sensation in his gut, he couldn’t manage it. .

So, he checked his watch. It was three in the morning.

He didn’t want to get up anyway.

Thunk-thunk-thunk-thunk.

The knocking roused Jachs back to consciousness just in time for Alcippe to open the door. He would have liked for the capacity to be embarrassed. He’d lost that.

“Queen’s Mercy!” Alcippe exclaimed, eyes-wide. She brought up her hoof to her nose and her snout wrinkled. “Jachs…” she cringed. Her eyes found the bottle, then the ones still on his desk, then him. Then, they narrowed.

“M’fine.” He whined into the carpet, crossing a foreleg in front of his head to rest upon. He closed his eyes back.

“You’re not fine!” Alcippe immediately leapt into action, gathering the glass bottles and depositing them into the trash. Noticing what was in there, she made a supremely disgusted face that made Jachs feel even more guilty. “What the hell is the matter with you?” She reeled, tone both a question and an accusation.

The generalmajor planted his forehooves upon the carpet and brought himself up to a half-stand upon his front legs. “Bad dream.” He mused quietly. “You don’t have to do that.”

Snorting, she hovered one of the bottles in front of him. Apparently there’d been a fourth somewhere he missed. Jachs felt a fresh sting of pain cross his head. “This stuff is gonna kill you,” she glared, carefully hovering it into the trash can lest it cause a splash. The sound nearly made the Generalmajor hurl again.

Changing the subject, he shrugged. “What are you here for? Is there a problem?” Jachs said, noticing she wasn’t carrying any thing of critical importance on her person this one single time.

“There isn’t one, besides your stink. You have visitors,” she quickly replied. “And you’re in no condition to meet them.”

Jachs didn’t reply. He stood, and caught the heavy whiff of alcohol on him, now that she’d mentioned it. Apparently he’d gone noseblind to it sometime last night.

“If I have to--”

“I’ll tell them you need a few hours.” She interrupted, rounding on him, trotting in front of him and jamming a hoof into his chest. Jachs felt Alcippe’s cold gaze on him. “Generalmajor Jachs,” she started. He suddenly felt like a foal whose mother had just used his full name. “I’m telling you as your friend. You have got to stop this.”

His ears fell. He threw a glance over his shoulder, at the mess he’d made of his office, the rank stench of alcohol and bile, and he turned back to his oberst. “I don’t know if I can,” he huffed. His breath must have smelt like death but Aclippe didn’t show her disgust. “You know…”

“I know.” She leapt up, planted her forehooves on his withers, and looked him square in the eye. “But this can’t keep happening. What happens if you’re drunk and we’re in trouble? Say the Hivesmarschall comes down here, decides you’re too drunk to command, and replaces you on the spot? It’s not just you that you have to worry about. Everypony, and now, damn near every changeling in Canterlot is counting on you. You can’t falter like this. Not again.” Her cadence was calm and measured, explaining the predicament logically.

Jachs fell on his ass and cast his gaze up at the ceiling. He found it remarkably hard to meet her eyes. “I’ll try,” he managed.

“Trying isn’t good enough. Jachs, look at me. Look at me.” She poked him in the chest again and, like a magnet, Jachs felt his gaze drawn to hers. “You need to find another way to cope. Something healthier. Write poetry or something.”

Jachs would have laughed, but Alcippe had apparently realized how silly that was. She shook her head. “Look, if you have to drink, just…do it with friends, right? Ask Second Wind out to a bar or something so you don’t drink yourself to death.”

“Not you?” Jachs smirked.

Alcippe pursed her lips in a little pout. She looked off to the side and said, in the most tactful way, “I would too, of course, but I feel like you need to branch out. Maybe go visit the barracks, hang out with the volunteers and such. You’re getting stuck in your own head.” She finished, returning a smile. “Besides, maybe it’ll do you good to see how the 96th is getting along with the volunteers.”

“Maybe I’ll do that,” The Generalmajor said, rolling his wings. “And get some water. What about you?”

“I’ll distract your visitors and clean up,” Alcippe bit her lower lip. Jachs raised a hoof in protest but she shut him down with a harsh look. “Just do your thing for now-- and don’t do it again, and we’ll call it even.”

Jachs quietly filed away one more he owed Alcippe. That’s two to zero. He did not like to accrue debts.

Another shower and another preening session, and Jachs had made himself decent. He didn’t often use his room at the palace for more than a quick shower besides. He saw himself in the mirror and frowned, getting a sense of deja vu.

He turned away, sure it wouldn’t end exactly the same.

With a polite nod to Ms. Reza, who’d drawn gate guard duty that day, he stepped out into the streets of Canterlot proper.

Unlike the other commissariot commanders, Jachs did not feel the need to travel with guards anymore. It wasn’t that he was completely sure he wouldn’t be the victim of an assassination attempt, but the fact of the matter is with the recent resource expenditure on the rebel’s hooves, he really doubted they could do it again so soon. It’d take them time to get more agents in place.

He would seldom leave the palace, but he did on occasion; mostly to visit the expensive liquor shop in the royal quarter that imported all kinds of esoteric alcohols. Still, this had the curious effect of making him seem ‘approachable’ to the common pony.

He’d doffed his cap to a mare who waved him down, asking him if it was okay to speak the princess’s names. “Of course,” he replied. “Why wouldn’t it be?” Still, he mentally filed that away to clarify with the garrison later. If he’d completely forbidden Equestrian culture from memory that’d just make it more attractive to be remembered, written down in hidden scrolls or talked about by the hushed fireside. It was remarkably hard to kill an idea, so, he’d not tried.

Generalmajor Jachs had just turned a corner after bidding her good day, hooves tapping into the sidewalk, when he slammed into a unicorn mare. Pale of coat, purple of mane and of eye-- his eyes crossed as he stumbled backwards, hastily blurting out an apology.

She had stepped one single hoof backwards, as if even her stumble was regally calculated. The mare had a figure that most reminded Jachs of a much smaller, much more brightly coloured Queen Chrysalis. Slender, and though not quite the size of Herself, she was taller than him by a good couple inches. Her mane and tail were a glorious, vibrant purple that seemed to glitter like starlight in the dark. Her eyes were a similar shade. “No harm done, Generalmajor.” the mare smiled curiously. Her accent was thickly feminine and posh-- Manehattenite? A changeling rank sounded wrong in that voice.

Jachs took note of her horn, similarly slender and pointed. Currently glowing. It stopped as he glanced at it. His first thought was that he’d slammed into her and made her drop something, but a swift downward glance dispelled that notion.

He fixed his cap. “I am sorry, regardless. I’m in a bit of a--” Then, he did a double take. For a split second, he thought that he was looking at Rarity. Her face was on enough wanted posters for him to recognize it. It was almost right, but not quite. This unicorn was too tall and the cutie mark, which was a two-dimensional version of her own slender horn, was completely wrong. “A hurry.” He finished. “Have we met?”

“No!” She laughed, a posh and vibrant giggle like the colours of her mane. “But I hope we shall meet in the future. Ta-ta!” With that, she trotted around him, and hooked her tail over his back. It dragged along his back, falling down over his uniform and his flank. Even though the heavy durable stitching of his officer’s uniform he felt an electric tingle along his exoskeleton.

He swiftly gasped and glanced back at her, but with a demure smile that said ‘oopsy’ and at the same time teased him for his reaction, she turned and rounded the corner out of sight. He supposed it was really not worth worrying about, but he didn’t know how they would hopefully ‘meet in the future’ without the purple-maned mare giving him her name.

Shaking off the strangeness of that encounter, he continued on a little more cautious of step.

The garrison barracks was once the headquarters for the canterlot cabs, back when they were still carriages pulled by pegasi instead of rolling steel machines. A reasonably sized office building now several cots packed together like sardines, stark white in the Canterlonian style, with a number of adjoining garages and open parking spaces. Which, right now, held a number of brand new and shining infantry half tracks. Jachs assumed his ‘special orders’ were secured from public eyes beyond closed garage doors.

The 96’th Mechanized Division, ‘Canterlonians.’ Made up of changelings from his old jaeger team and a few sympathizing faces from around the Queendom. And they were his to command. He could still hardly believe it! He took a moment to marvel at the building and the vehicles and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Who knew getting shot could be so lucky?

Even out here the Canterlot garrison’s attitude was on display. Changeling and pony soldiers, wearing the same uniforms, leaned against ivory walls and chattered casually when their superiors weren’t looking. Jachs caught the eye of a Jaeger he’d known back at Vanhoover and the pair shared the typically masculine upward nod of recognition.

Inside was a small lobby area for the everyday citizen needing to visit. The receptionist, a staff sergeant by rank, spotted him immediately and waved him down. Oberfeldwebel in his language, but given that she was a pony, that didn't feel appropriate.

“Generalmajor.” She gave a perfunctory nod. “What brings you all the way down here?” She was a professional looking pony. Ex-equestrian military, if Jachs had to guess. Her mane was cut in a bob and she wore a set of reading glasses. The Heer gray uniform looked at home on her dark blue coat.

“Two reasons. One, a surprise inspection. Two, I want to see the kommandant.” He professionally replied. “May I?” He flicked his snout towards the double doors that marked the entrance to the barracks proper.

“No one’s gonna stop you, sir.” She chuckled, settling in her seat. “Would you like me to show you around?”

Jachs dismissed her with a hoof wave. “That won’t be necessary. I’d find it funner if I could explore.” He confidently replied, strolling by. Of course, he wasn’t really there to inspect them. He just wanted to see them.

The barracks combined the headquarters of the garrison and the 96th mechanized changeling military division ‘Canterlonians’. They’d been set up so both forces worked in, ironically, harmony. The garrison would be the shield and the mechanized would be the sword.

Both the mechanized and garrison divisions were made up of a collection of pony and changeling soldiers. Everyling Jachs had served with at some point in his career. Jaegers, friends from boot camp, sympathizing soldiers and the like. Everypony was a bit more complicated. He’d left that in Second Wind’s hooves, but as he stepped into the long hall with several adjoining rooms hastily converted into bunkrooms, he knew he’d been right to put his trust in the pegasus.

It was like he’d stepped into the future. There was one changeling soldier guarding the door that saw his cap and, with widened eyes, quickly saluted. After that, he took the chance to peer into a couple doorways. They had used to be little office spaces. Now, with doors removed they served as cramped but serviceable living arrangements. Ponies and changelings chatted and joked with one another.

In one room, they were disassembling an Equestrian army service pistol, with a pony leaning over it giving instructions to the attending changelings, who were paying exacting attention.

In another, a couple bugs in a garrison uniform were having a push up competition with a pegasus pony in the mechanized uniform, who was only using his wings. Jachs felt his buzz at the sight and a sympathy pain shot through them.

Laughter echoed from down the hall and Jachs perked up his ears. He followed the noise, past a number of stunned and gawking soldiers who rushed to salute him. As he walked, he lifted a hoof to his lips and ‘shushed’ any exclamations. He wanted to see what this was about.

The Generalmajor found his way to an open area towards the back of the building. Here, a few wooden tables were spread around, and a small kitchen area was set up. This must be the mess, he reasoned.

His eyes were drawn to the center of the room, and to a carbon copy of himself. Dressed to the nines in an officer’s uniform, strutting about on top of a table, bright green eyes scanning the crowd. It was a decent imitation. The uniform, the eyes, even the divots and holes in his legs and horn were right. Still, he knew this wasn’t an experienced infiltrator. The Generalmajor marched, he did not strut. And he certainly didn’t flip his snout upward in such a sassy manner.

He’d begun to draw a couple eyes. A silence was falling on the back of the crowd as more and more attending soldiers glanced back and saw the real deal. The tension was rising but he had no desire to cut it just yet. Jachs smirked, and leaned against one of the tables flitting his ears to the changeling, and listened.

“My little ponies,” Said the imposter Jachs, his hoof extended to a trio of unicorn mares chuckling to one another. “It is-- and I say this with the utmost, most truest, most heartfeltestestest-”

Somepony in the crowd shouted ‘boo’ and another yelled out “Get to it!”

The changeling made a show of holding a forehoof to his chest and pouting. “Please, work with me!” His snout flicked again, making a show of pouting to the crowd. “Only by living together, side-by-side, can we as equines come to know true prosper--”

Louder this time, somepony shouted “Get to it!” Then a flash of metal crossed the air as a metal spoon ‘thwacked’ the imposter right on the snout. It fell to the table with a metallic ring.

“I’m trying!” He huffed, brushing his shoulders. “That is to say, it is with great pride, I am announcing that, in the interests of ‘species desegregation’...” A sudden silence fell over the room. Jachs could almost the heckler’s brow furrow. “I am announcing the changeling-pony breeding program!”

A chorus of groans sounded above the crowd. A specific mare, blue of mane and coat, slammed her hoof into her face. Whom ‘Jachs’ immediately singled out with a lifted and pointing hoof. “And this young mare is going to be our first volunteer!”

One of the changelings in the crowd, rolling his eyes so hard they threatened to fall out of their sockets, spoke up. “Give it a rest, Copper!”

“Not if we were the last two equines on Equus, ‘Generalmajor’” The mare retorted. “Get off the table before you trip, dummkopf.”

“You’re breaking my heart, private first class Aqua Ray.” Jachs announced himself with a confident strut, shoving aside some of the slack jawed ponies. As Jachs trotted up, it was like parting a sea. The room got whisper quiet as he made his way into an opening circle. “Given the circumstances though, I think I’ll get over it.”

“G-gen--”

“That’s…”

“Really…?”

“Officer on deck!” The violently shouted command caused everyone to immediately stand at attention. Like a great wave, hooves met hooves as the room audibly ‘clacked’ with the sheer force of a legion of soldiers moving as one. Everyone stood right where they were. Even ‘Jachs’ who looked like he’d just seen the face of the goddess. He looked rather silly up there on the table

Second Wind stormed into the room like a yellow tornado. Fury glittered from his brow as he took to the sky, hovering above the crowd and floating right in front of the imposter. “You wanna be an officer do you, soldier?” His voice was deep and dark as syrup, and foreboding as the night. Even the real Jachs felt himself stand a little straighter.

“No, sir!” Said the imposter, throat quivering.

“Oh!” Second Wind chortled. “So, you just want everyone to listen to you without any of the responsibilities.” The pegasus’s voice was like a bowstring pulled taut.

Unable to reply, the changeling only looked down in shame.

“Private Copper, is it?” Jachs took wing as well, setting himself down upon the table. They looked like mirrors of one another, except one changeling was very nearly quaking. “Although your proposal for a ‘changeling-pony breeding program’ is interesting, I’m afraid we simply lack the resources.”

The Kommandant blinked. “A what?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Jachs chuckled. “Yes, Mr. Copper here has some interesting ideas he was sharing with the class. Why don’t you tell Kommandant Wind what you told the crowd earlier?”

From somewhere in the line, somepony snickered. Jachs had a pretty good idea of which one.

Silence met the two officers as the changeling clammed up. Jachs wore one of the biggest grins he’d ever worn. “Nervous now, Copper?” Jachs’ grin only widened until he was smiling like a half-mad bug.

With a sudden flash of green flame, the form of ‘copper’ was revealed. The standard black-carapaced blue-eyed bug of Chrysalis’s brood. Even in his natural form, he didn’t seem much calmer. “I’m sorry I spoke out of turn, sirs!” He bowed to Jachs like the Generalmajor was a prince. “It was-was a joke, and one in poor taste, and I’m very-very-very sorry!”

“You think you are.” Second Wind’s nose flicked in anger. “But you're about to be.”

“I’m sorry about that, sir.” Kommandant Wind led Jachs to his own office, up on the second floor. “They work well together, but they get in stupid games of grab-flank all the time in their off hours. It’s like herding cats. I’ll wring it out of ‘em eventually, but I swear, it’s embarrassing.”

“No harm no foul. I remember Copper. He was always a bit of a trouble maker, but he's a good bug really.” Jachs settled opposite the Kommandant. The pegasus’s office was about the same size as his own, though he’d gotten a much nicer big leather chair. It was once the manager’s room, after all. “And it was kind of nice to see the species united. Even if it was to denigrate me.” Jachs noted, with a hint of good humor.

The pegasus nodded, wings ruffling. “I take it your opinion is good then?”

Jachs shrugged, settling in his chair. “If they’re living and working together, that’s already a miracle. The fact it's been as long as it has without any minor wars breaking out is a load off my back.”

Second Wind withdrew a small piece of paper from one of his desk drawers, balanced expertly between a couple flight pinions. “Yes, I believe that’s your chickens coming home to roost, sir.” He said with a casual smile.

“Pardon me?”

“The consequences of your actions.” He retorted, sliding across a paper. Jachs took it in his magic.

It detailed the thought process of a Ms. Gilded Lance. Who, after spending weeks suffering persecution in Vanhoover, had hopped a train and come here. First, just to get away from the changelings there, but as she’d come to live and work in Canterlot she’d begun to feel a sense of normalcy. She’d gone from a quiet shut in just trudging through existence, being afraid to step outside, to having friends again. Finally, she spoke of having a life again. There was one phrase that particularly jumped out at him.

“It feels like Equestria again.” Jachs read it aloud, feeling a single tear well up in his eye. He held the paper to his chest, and let out a long breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. That one phrase was like imbibing a shot of purified and distilled Elation, better than any love he’d ever had.

“Thank you, Kommandant.” Jachs slid the paper back over, smiling. “I…feel I needed that.”

The pegasus brought his wings up and then they fell back down in a shrug.

Settling into his chair, Jachs had his eyes locked on the ceiling for a good few seconds, before recollection shot across his features. “Oh! Yes, what I had originally come down for.” He fished a small envelope, magically lifted in glowing green, and deposited it before the pegasus.

“It’s an invitation by the C.E.O. of Main Hive to a party.” The Generalmajor explained. “According to her, she’s a ‘prominent employer of ponies,’ so I thought you might like to come with me and make sure everything is on the up and up.”

Second Wind turned it over, rather roughly digging the envelope open with bare hooves. Skimming it quickly, he arched an eyeridge. “Oh. So I’d be your ‘plus one’?” He questioned, eyeridge arched with a smirk. “Now, isn’t that just inviting controversy?”

Jachs frowned quizzically before realization dawned on him, and a subtle flush flicked across the changeling’s cheeks. “Ah.” He bit his lower lip, clearly trying to find the correct phrase, as he stared hard into the Kommandant’s chest. He immediately realized this probably looked less like he was in thought and more like he was eying his friend up. “Fraternization among officers is against regulations-- and I am not inviting you on a date.” He finally clarified, the words coming more forcefully than he’d meant them to. “And-- I didn’t know you, er, ah. Were on that side of the battle line? Not that I have any issues.” He cleared his throat. “Among changelings, there isn’t really a concept of ‘sexuality’ per se.”

“Jachs.”

“Among us, well, seeing as how anyling could simply choose to be another gender, it comes down mainly to personal preference. Therefore,” The Generalmajor was quickly stumbling through his words. “The concepts of ‘gay’ or ‘straight’ are really more of a pony thing. We understand them, of course, but-”

“Generalmajor.” Second Wind tried interrupting, but Jachs silenced him with a hoof wave.

The words were coming like a storm now, escaping Jachs’ mouth in a fevered ramble with barely a breath in between. “But they simply do not exist among the changelings. All that to say, Kommandant, that I have no issues with your personal life and wholeheartedly support-”

“Jachs! I’m fucking with you.” Second Wind’s hoof fell upon the desk and he uproariously laughed. “You sound like a nervous foal.” His hoof went to his chest and he chuckled heartily. “Oh, Celestia. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flustered! Tripping over your words like that, hah.” That hoof that went to his eye and flicked away a salty tear. “Oh I think you made my day.”

The Generalmajor, inheritor and hero of Canterlot, averted his gaze and looked at the floor. “I-” He stuttered, tilting his head and bracing his teeth. “I like to run over possible conversations in my head before meeting someone. I quickly practice and practice them. I do it all the time. I was not expecting that.” Answered the changeling honestly. He blinked the confusion from his eyes. He was vaguely aware of heat upon his cheeks.

Rolling his eyes, Second Wind smirked. “Well, regardless, I’ll be happy to be your ‘date’” He joked. “Don’t expect me to show up in a ballgown dress, though. I don’t know a good enough tailor.”

“Your uniform will be fine.” Jachs returned, through gritted teeth, standing and straightening his shoulders after a few deep breaths. “You understand this conversation is now classified under opsec, yes?”

“Yes sir, Generalmajor sir.” The Kommandant made a show of saluting without standing, dextrously tucking the envelope back into his desk with a whing. “I will take your panicked blushing to my grave.”

The Generalmajor’s ear twitched. He didn’t particularly like that tone, but all the same he gave a polite nod and turned to beg his leave-- before stopping himself. “Actually, would you like to accompany me to the throne room? I do believe Alcippe is starting to miss you.”

Though it was subdued, Jachs saw an unreadable expression flash along Second Wind’s features. Jealousy? Confusion? Then, he snapped back to the neutral ‘diplomatic’ face they’d been trained to adopt in unfamiliar situations, which gave Jachs even more of an inkling as to why.

Second Wind immediately deflated. “That’s cruel.” He chuckled. “Alright, gimme a second to wrap this up.”

Changelings tend to be experts at emotions. They are often in perfect control over their own, able to identify and respond in kind to those emotions in others. While there are exceptions to the rule, It’s part of what makes them natural infiltrators.

So despite how utterly flabbergasted Jachs was at seeing a short changeling laying across Alcippe’s desk, throwing a little hoofball up and catching it with his magic, he did not vocalize it. Nor, despite his instincts telling him so, did he grab the little cretin and fling him outside on his oily little ear. Instead, he closed the grand throne room door behind him as Second Wind slid in, and deeply cleared his throat.

“Excuse me.” Said the Generalmajor, voice darkly intoned, but as the bright eyed bug flicked his eyes to him, he immediately lit up.

Second Wind stood beside Jachs, his eyes on the intruder as a million questions flashes across his face. He was in a guarded stance, wing hovering above a leg-holstered pistol.

“Jachs!” He caught the ball again as he leapt upwards. “Damn-- they told me you got a promotion, look at you bug!” The changeling almost sprinted towards him, before extending his right hoof. Jachs took it with a wide smile. The pair crossed their forehooves, met one another’s eyes, and pulled. Jachs had the advantage in strength, so the smaller changeling was tugged roughly into his chest in a hug.

“Finicus!” Jachs nearly shouted. One could hear the smile in his voice. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you so soon.” He chuckled, breaking the hug. Finicus had sharp, eager eyes that looked back at him with chiding respect. Atop his head was a rare changeling frill, currently slicked back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jachs saw the pegasus relax and roll his eyes, wing folding back up.

Finicus shrugged. “You owe me a shining, refurbished, reworked Equestrian weapons factory.” He smirked. “And…at a good price! You know, those panthers were an expensive favour.” He winked, his eyes flitting along Jachs’ uniform and then up to his cap.

“Right.” Jachs shoved him back, pushing him off. “A trade of favours.” He repeated, shaking his head. “You could finalize this from Vesalipolis, though. So why come all the way out personally?”

Suddenly, Jachs door opened, and out stepped a familiar looking bug flanked by his oberstleutnant. “Because mister Vesali is well acquainted with the substance I’m pursuing,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “Goodness, all that shouting…”

“Surgeon General Marsilio.” Jachs said respectfully, using the Ponish title to introduce him to Second Wind. “It has been too long, really.”

“Hasn’t it?” He said. “Years, I believe.”

Alcippe trotted around him and took her seat at her desk. “Here,” She withdrew a small vial from with a shining black locked case. It had a hoof-cuff on it, likely affixed to Marsilio some time ago. “Before anything else Marsilo wants you to try this.” It looked like a standard love vial, the kind they refined and stored harvested rations in. It was a clear glass tube, about an inch across, and about foot long with a stark black cap. Inside, a pinkish hazy substance, like a flowing cloud of pink bottled lightning swirled. Every few seconds the lightning pulsed, giving off a glow.

“Isn’t that just a love ration?” Second Wind asked, inspecting it from a healthy distance with a wrinkled snout.

“At first sight. Generalmajor, if you’d be so kind.” Marsilio nodded, dipping his head towards the object.

Finicus shook his head but said nothing.

Jachs shrugged, gripped it in his magic, and popped off the cap with his teeth. The cloud-like substance flowed into him as his parasitic magic latched onto it and drank deeply.

It was like being lit on fire. His entire body went limp as the sensations rolled over him. Happiness. Euphoria. True, requited, passionate love. It snaked through his veins, lit them alight in pleasure. “I-” He tried, tumbling to the marble floor in a heap. Even the momentary pain the fall brought on was immediately abated by the onrush of pleasure. His neurons fired in ecstatic pulses, sending his limbs twitching from the effort.

“Generalmajor!” Alcippe jumped from her desk.

“Jachs!” Second Wind likewise leapt to him, his fore around the changeling’s withers. “What the hell was in that!?” He held the prone bug. Jachs cried out, but the pain mixed with pure joy made it sound more like a mad cackle.

“Told you this’d happen.” Finicus snickered in Marsilio’s direction. “Never could hold your love. Eh, Jachs?”

“It’ll pass.” Marsilio shoed Second Wind away, who immediately bore his teeth. “I didn’t expect him to be so…overwhelmed. I’m sorry.”

Alcippe bore her teeth in a grimace. “There’s a reason the Generalmajor takes his rations in privacy, Doktor.”

“I’m fine!” Jachs managed, his body shuddering still yet. “Mercy. Fuck- is that,” he stammered, unable to stand. Every few moments one of his legs would twitch, like the phantom nerve spasms of a dying thing. “This is Elation…” he growled. “I should have you arrested for even having this!”

“No it is not.” Marsilio countered, lifting a hoof to rest upon his back. “But it is a very convincing forgery. Some of the strongest love I’ve ever seen.”

Alcippe, letting out an exhale, sat back down. “Visibly so, Doktor.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “You could have warned us.”

“You wouldn’t have taken it if I told you what it was.” Marsilio replied evenly, his hoof rubbing Jachs’ back. The oberstleutnant didn’t reply beyond a cold glare.

“Hold on, elation?” Second Wind interrupted. “Why’s everypony talking about this like it’s obvious what it is?”

Alcippe’s nostrils flared. “An extraordinarily illegal substance,” she explained. “Addictive too.”

“You understand that changelings feed on love, right?” Marsilio stood, addressing the Kommandant directly. “That’s the layponies’ version. In essence, changelings feed on the magic produced by love. Familial, romantic, friendship. There’s one specific type of love ponies produce that is extraordinarily rare and difficult to acquire.”

“The elation of getting a cutie mark.” Alcippe finished for him, shaking her head. “Elation At Cutie Mark Acquisition is far and away the strongest, most addictive, most…pleasurable type of love for a changeling.”

Second Wind’s eyes met hers with a dark scowl. “How do they harvest that?” He said, through gritted teeth.

“They don’t.” Marsilio replied. “The logistics in holding a foal in captivity and…inducing a cutie mark, solely to harvest the joy produced by such, it is--”

“Barbaric and stupid.” Finicus interjected, seeing the pegasus’s rising temper and interposing himself between the two. “Which is why we’re here to stop the production of whatever this is.” He upturned his forehooves in a surrendering gesture. “Don’t worry, buck. The good doctor’s a bit of an idiot with how he words things, but we’re here to stop it.”

“Mhm.” Marsilio nodded, not even batting an eyebrow at his compatriot’s insult. “It would be rather problematic to have a changeling become addicted to this imitation and seek out the real.”

Second Wind sneered, flaring his wings and turning away. “Problematic.” He spat the word, offering a hoof to Jachs, who took it.

With Second Wind’s help, Jachs stood, his body still unsteady. “I would have preferred a warning, Herr Doktor.” He chided. “Still, he’s right. This…substance is extremely dangerous.” He panted. “You’re sure it’s coming from Canterlot?”

“I am.” Finicus replied in Marsilio’s place, scooping up the love vial, now emptied, in his magic. “I know a bug that knows a bug that knows a pony that gets her supply from here.” He smirked. Then, immediately shrank as everyone fixed him with concentrated glares. “I uh-- I have my vices!” He quickly added. “One of those is exotic love and hey, the minute I got a whiff, I gave it to Marsilio!”

“Really?” Jachs nodded to the Kommandant, who released him to stand on his own four hooves again. “Just a whiff?”

Finicus’s frill shot up as he hooked a hoof behind his neck to nervously scratch. “There uh, there may have originally been two vials.” He sheepishly shrugged.

Alcippe’s hoof found her face. “Regardless,” she continued, letting it slam back down into her desk. “We have few leads. V.O.P.S. hasn’t exactly been cooperative with my inquiries.”

“So, all we know is that it comes from Canterlot. Fantastic.” Jachs stumbled his way over to Alcippe’s desk and let his flank rest against it. “I--” He started, and felt something crumple in his saddlebag. He stepped back, and flipped it open. The Generalmajor hovered out a dark purple envelope, embossed in fluid script.

“Another party?” Said Second Wind, eying the magically lifted paper with curiosity.

Jachs bit into it with his teeth, tugging the paper outwards. He hovered it sideways, letting Alcippe read along with him. “Of a sort.” He chuckled to Alcippe loud enough for the room to hear him, who shook her head. She opened her mouth and it looked like she was about to plead with him, but Jachs silenced her with a raised hoof. “But it looks a lot more interesting.” He said, flashing a confident smile.

Author's Note

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