“My sources tell me- back in the early days of the occupation you got recalled to Vesalipolis.” The cream unicorn made an ‘X’ motion across her clipboard with her magic. “What was that about, if you can say?”

“You are well informed, Miss Butter Scotch. I was way behind on my beating quota.” Jachs sneered, rolling his eyes. “Chrysalis-- the Empress,” he corrected himself, “got the idea that because I wasn’t stomping my boot into the neck of every pony in Canterlot I might be some kind of sympathizer.” At that, he bit his lower lip in thought. “Well, I was. I am still. But it hurt my feelings.” He flashed a confident smile at the interviewer, leaning back to kick his hind legs over the armrest of his lounger. “It was an eventful journey there and back-- and a very memorable meeting. First time I’d ever climbed the Queen’s tower itself and the first time I ever saw her throne.”

“It is my job to be informed, Herr Jachs. I’m sure you can sympathize.” At that Jachs raised his, now empty, glass of whisky. Butter Scotch continued: “If it’s not too much trouble-- can I ask for the story?” the unicorn spoke tactfully and professionally. She knew exactly what Jachs was doing.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He grinned, his eagerness to tell it displayed on his muzzle.

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

“RESIST”

Generalmajor Jachs crinkled his snout as he stepped from his armored transport train and into the Vanhoover station. Along the station’s back wall, right above the ticket booth, were several graffiti slogans all calling for the violent overthrow of the Changeling Queendom. He glanced across the platform. Ponies and changelings alike sat at respectable differences from one another, their eyes downcast. The ponies here didn’t want to meet his gaze.

“Generalmajor!” Jachs turned to greet the governor of the Vanhoover commissariot with a perfunctory salute- shared between the pair. “It’s an honor sir,” he continued. Jachs returned his salute, before he noticed the pair of assault-rifle wielding bodyguards flanking the sides of the governor. Heavy in black-armour, and with stern gazes. “The siege of Canterlot is the stuff of legends. I only wish I’d been there to see you in action.” The governor opined reverently.

“At ease, Governor Carapace. You needn’t butter me up- this isn’t a performance review.” Jachs gave him a subdued shrug. “Just a stop for fuel and rest on the way to the capital.”

“Oh not at all sir!” The governor chuckled half-heartedly. “I’m just glad to meet a hero of mine- before I escort you to your accommodation for the night, can I pick your brain a little?”

“Well I’m technically on duty for another hour. What have you got?” Jachs fell into step beside the governor, and the guards in turn fell into step behind him. He was led beyond the station and into the heart of Vanhoover proper.

The Generalmajor took in the sights and sounds of Vanhoover as they walked. This was the first city to fall in the war and it took the worst beating. Shiny new bombs fresh out of the factory fell on these streets to mark the start of the war. It still bore the scars. Tank tread-marks along Equestrian cobble roads, broken walls, spent shell casings. It unnerved him. Why hadn’t they tried to rebuild yet? Canterlot was hit hard too but-- admittedly, not this badly, and they certainly had more help.

Entire sections of the city were cordoned off-- filled with gas residue, crumbling buildings and infrastructure which made it impassable. All those who remained, pony and changeling, were on the south half of the city. By the time the changeling tanks stood in the Vanhoover town square, they surrendered, so the South was relatively untouched. Even so…

Jachs sighed through his nostrils. It was as if he could still smell the war in these cursed, soot-blackened streets. What a miserable place. He could not wait to leave it.

Perhaps sensing his demeanor change, Carapace piped up. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed we’ve been having problems with the resistance here recently.” Jachs glanced behind him at the guards. The stern, black gas-masked faces scanned alleyways and windows with their hooves on their weapons.

“Explains the heavy security--” Jachs returned. “We’ve had some issues at Canterlot as well but mostly small isolated skirmishes. I take it your enemies here have organized?”

“We believe so.” Carapace gestured to a nearby wall. The same slogans written on the station were here too.

“Resist, ELF will save us, Lulamoon Legion?” Jachs read it aloud as he forced himself to focus on the tiny- scratchy written letters. “Pretty poor penmanship too. I wouldn’t put too much stock in graffiti, governor. Ponies say alot of things but it only really means anything when they put action behind their words.”

The governor threw his hoof over his shoulder, pointing out a few more of the same slogans written across the streets. “We see these same phrases, is what worries me. E.L.F. too.”

“I’m sure-” Jachs was interrupted by a shout from the alley over.

“Get them! Get the little bastards!” He was already running before the Governor was able to stop him. Rounding the corner he saw six young ponies, colts and fillies by the look of them, pinned to the ground by changeling kommandos in black body armour and gas masks.

Never in his life would Jachs have thought he’d see proud soldiers of the heer pointing assault rifles at unarmed children.

“There’s some of our little revolutionaries now!” Carapace rounded the corner after Jachs, his guards on his hooves. “The resistance likes to use these children and urchins as spies. Probably carrying orders from one cell to another.” Carapace shrugged. “I…find it distasteful, but what else are we to do? Let them carry messages unhindered?”

“...be that as it may, Governor.” Jachs spit the word, a hint of venom creeping into his voice, before he sighed and forced himself to calm down. “These are just children. Brainwashed by the resistance or not. We must be lenient- we must, or else we will become the monsters the resistance paints us as.”

“I admit- it does seem a little overkill for a few dissident children.” The governor shook his head, seeming not to notice Jachs’ shift in tone. “But my hooves are tied. If I let them run rampant I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“There must be a better way to do this than turning the proud soldiers of the Heer into brutes who point machine guns at children.” He spoke loud enough that a couple of the soldiers turned their attention to him, their grips on their weapons momentarily lowering. Jachs tapped his hoof into the cobbles below him in thought. “Just have them escorted home for now. Have your soldiers bring these colts and fillies back to their parents, tell them what they were doing, and I assure you most parents would never let their children outside again-- much less give them the freedom to run messages.”

“Ahh…” Carapace lifted a hoof to his chin in thought. “Speak calmly and carry a big stick, Generalmajor? I guess it’s worth a shot at least. Certainly cheaper than imprisoning them.”

“Sparks less resentment too.” Jachs noted, gesturing with his head to the forming crowd of ponies on the street. “The best way to fight the resistance, Governor, is to give them a better life now than the one they are fighting to return to.”

Carapace nodded. “Very well- gentlemen, lower your weapons. We’ll do as the Generalmajor suggests for now. A trial run.” The Governor bowed his head in respect.

The black-armoured shocklings complied reluctantly, lowering their weapons but standing close enough to the prone children that should any try to run they’d be easily tackled. None of them tried to run.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Carapace turned back to Jachs. “As I was saying,”

Jachs; however, interrupted him. “Actually Governor if it’s all the same to you I think I’d prefer to call it a night for now. Vanhoover has a way of draining one’s energy.”

Vesalipolis. Capital of the Changeling Queendom, center of the soon to be empire, administrative hub for thousands upon thousands of bureaucrats and clerks whose sole purpose was to keep the Queendom running.

Jachs’ train had to pass by multiple lines of militarized pillboxes, fortresses, and panzer patrols. The city itself was hardly visible, obscured behind a thick blanket of black factory smoke. The smokestacks of changeling machine shops producing guns and tanks around the clock belched fire upwards like industrial dragons. Steel, flame, gunsmoke. Every building worked as a single organism producing death in a symphony of metal. This was the full might of a nation on display. Citizens here lived with the guns of the heer like their neighbors.

The railway led straight to the Queen’s tower, itself flanked by two colossal pieces of railway artillery. As Generalmajor Jachs stepped onto the Vesalipolis tower station, the scent of industrialization hit him. It smelled remarkably like fire.

He’d heard of the Queen’s tower before, every changeling had. They’d all seen pictures in the newspaper. “A grand construction,” they called it. It certainly lived up to his expectations.

An edifice of black, a monument to the military prowess of the Queendom and the greatness of its ruler, grasped towards the sky as if the heavens themselves didn’t fall outside the Queen’s rule. As Generalmajor Jachs stared upwards he was struck with a sense of wonder.

This tower, this place, is a nexus of the hives and very well could be of the entire world. It was like stepping onto hallowed ground. He felt like he needed a blessing or else he’d spontaneously erupt in green flame.

Well, the summons in his saddlebag would have to do.

“You are on time, sir. The Queen will see you now.” A young changeling girl bowed her head low and gestured toward the throne room’s grand doors. They were done up in changeling black, shining with dark green glowing inlays that formed a relief of Chrysalis’s side profile. At either side were two of the most resplendently adorned, garishly armoured and serious-looking Queen’s guard Jachs had ever seen. They opened the door for him, and Jachs took his cue.

Green flames met his eyes. Behind Chrysalis’ throne was a wall of flaming, magical green. It gave the room an eerie glow. At either side of the room were lines of columns, each one reflected the polished obsidian floor. Although Jachs would never admit this even if tortured, it reminded him a little bit of Canterlot’s throne room, albeit more sinister and much less white.

At either side of the throne were posted two more guards, but these were the only changelings he saw. At his quizzical expression, one of the guards pointed his rifle sideways to the open balcony door. Jachs nodded his thanks and stepped outside.

The true queen of Equestria, monarch of the Changeling Queendom, sat at a small table covered with a white tablecloth. Upon that table sat a white- a very bright white decanter of tea, that Jachs swore he had seen somewhere before. “Queen Chrysalis.” Jachs announced his presence with a salute.

“Oh there you are-- punctual, Generalmajor.” Chrysalis lifted a teacup to her lips and sipped softly from it. “Have a seat.” One does not refuse an invitation from the changeling queen. Jachs took his position at the other side of the table.

“I like the quiet of the outside, Herr Jachs. If you listen closely you can hear the factory's rumble.” Jachs strained his ears as she talked-- he could just about make it out, the distant, heavy metallic rumbling of massive metal presses working in tandem. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? All those changelings, all those citizens-- working together for the common good. Working together for me.” She took a long, drawn out sip of her tea. “So would you like to tell me why you have not been?”

Jachs suddenly began to scramble-- the shock must have been visible on his face as he tried to speak. “I- I don’t know what you-”

She interjected. “It has come to my attention that the ponies under your rule are enjoying so many privileges that they do not have in other occupied areas. Your leniency, no doubt, is emboldening the resistance.” Queen Chrysalis shot him a glare from across the table.

“My goal-- as always, has been to maintain a stable Equestria under your rule. You know-- um, the old saying. You catch more flies with honey?” As Jachs spoke he wavered a bit, swallowing nervously.

“You’re not in trouble, Herr Jachs. I’m only cautioning you-- be more mindful. The example you set in Canterlot will be expected in every other province. Dissidents must be met with a firm hoof- lest, as you seem to be fond of old sayings. You give them an inch, the ponies will take a mile. Do you understand?” Chrysalis spoke with a reserved and calm tone, but the implication was deadly clear. Jachs nodded.

“At any rate--” Chrysalis continued, “we’re not here to discuss your…sympathies, misguided as they are.” The Queen rolled her eyes. “Changelings have been nipping at my hooves to be appointed governor of the Canterlot Commissariot. I’ve had so many letters, the odd impassioned plea, bribery, but I’ve heard nothing from you. I expect-- because you’ve been too busy working to worry about politics?”

“Well…yes,” Jachs returned with a subdued nod. “I suppose I never really gave it much thought. I’ve been so preoccupied with keeping it stable I’ve never--”

“And that is why I’m appointing you Governor.” The Queen interjected. “Here-” Her magic lifted the decanter, underneath it was a paper bearing the royal Vesalipolis seal. A bright blue royal insignia. It hung in the air and Jachs merely watched. “The papers are already here-- all ready, all you have to do is sign and initial.”

“I- I don’t know what to say.” His own magic took hold of the paper, and he unfurled it. There it was, his name on a piece of paper bearing the Queen’s signature. He felt his heart thump in his chest.

“As I said, I’m not here to punish you. Your methods have worked, as silly as they are. Canterlot under your rule is far more stable than any of the other provinces. If I put someone else above you it may well descend into open rebellion.” Her magical grip on her teacup faltered as she let it sit back down upon the tablecloth. “All I ask is that you keep in mind what I said. Don’t give them an inch, Governor Jachs.”

“I will,” the smaller changeling assented, withdrawing a pen from his uniform pocket with his magic, and noting down his name on the document.

“I expect to hear great things from you. Now,” Chrysalis drew up that little white decanter in her magical grip. “Are you a cinnamon or a jasmine man?”

Author's Note

Disclaimer: not my characters, not my story

This story is based on the 'Pax Chrysalia' storyline from the EAW mod's changeling lands ending. It is simply a passion project to patch some holes in the story and bring about a more satisfying (in my opinion) ending. It is not a replacement to playing the game and in fact I recommend you to.