The generations know but have forgotten

Left stagnant their dreams have turned rotten

Do we do as they have done, or risk revolution?

Going further, are we ready for evolution?

I know only that change is our nature

Suffering and struggling is our nurture

-Unattributed Changeling

He was a changeling, worker caste to be more specific. If ever there was a lower existence then it would probably be the fungus farmed by the worker caste. There was no mistaking his vital insignificance, his role helped feed the young yet he could be easily replaced by the next newborn that rose to age. Worse yet, he had reached the age where fungus no longer could satisfy and like all the Changeling race, he need the magical energies of love to sustain. The lowly love ration of a worker left him constantly teetering on the edge of starvation. He contemplated this and more as he compacted the putrid composts that the fungus grew upon.

Using a spark of magic from his horn, he floated a book in between his front legs. In reading at least he found an escape. The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camel, he realized the irony as he endlessly rolled big balls of composts.

He was pulled from his contemplative trance by a nudge to his flank from his female co-worker. “Grub, Overseer Tarsi is coming, best looking like you’re working.”

“Thanks, Arista.” He replied as he quickly began shoveling the fungus piles with his hooves. He hid his book under a pile of fungus.

“Greetings Grub,” said a gangly changeling behind him. Tarsi was the Overseer for his work unit. Her carapace was covered in grime and slime however Grub knew she had not worked a day in her life. Tiny vestigial wings sprouted from her black back but she was incapable of flight.

“Hail to you Overseer,” said Arista.

“I wasn’t talking to you, maggot.” Tarsi spat. Her gross hygiene was complemented by her equally grotesque personality. She turned to Grub. “Grub, your wings are looking lovely this evening.”

Wings were a sign of social status. Worker caste members were typically born absent of those appendages, even her tiny ones were kept with pride. Grub was blessed with a powerful pair but cursed in that they attracted her attention.

Grub, nevertheless, forced his mouth into a smile as he replied. “Thank you, Overseer.”

Tarsi’s words wormed in their slime. “Grub, your hard work is to be rewarded. Would you like to accompany me for refreshment?” She flicked the dirty strands of her tail across his nose.

Grub struggled to hold his vomit within his stomach as he proffered his most polite tone. “Thank you Overseer, but my job is not yet done.”

Tarsi recoiled in scorn. “Fine, if you’re so focused on working then you wouldn’t mind working without a break!”

Arista stuck her tongue out as the arrogant Overseer stomped away.

Slowly the brown piles of compost had been stirred and shifted to bigger piles. Grub sighed as their work near completion.

Arista poked him with a hoof. “Why didn’t you go for that? Marry her and I bet you’ll have your work shifts chopped in half.”

“She’d use me as a status symbol and pretend she married a soldier.”

His coworker frowned. “She’ll only make your life more miserable if you keep refusing her.”

“I swear by the monarchs of old, dead and cold, one day she’ll win. I’ll let the Quarray eels eat me on that day.”

“Marry me then.”

Grub inspected Arista for a moment. She was a wingless worker but by no means ugly. For a Changeling, she was rather solidly built; as sturdy as a creature with holes in its legs could be. Yet, she was his friend, and he recognized a good opportunity for a prank. Lowering the lids to his eyes, he gave her his best seductive look.

His pause caused her to become nervous. She laughed. “I’m joking, stupid.”

He gave her a wry smile. “So was I.”

Grub wondered about their favorite game of chicken. It led him to wonder about chickens. He’d never seen one, yet they were supposed to be cowardly. How many of their expressions and phrases had been borrowed from the overworld he’d only heard of.

“Hey Grub! Mr. Grub! Worthless worm!”

Grub snapped out of his daydream. He bellowed. “What?!”

Arista grinned at him, showing her pearly fangs. “Work’s done. Come on, let’s get dinner!”

Away from the worker’s burrowing chambers, they entered the chamber of the main city. Glowbug lanterns illuminated their streets. The hive’s honeycomb homes were open with no doors while the richer Changelings had curtains. The green bioluminescent paste colored and lit the entrances to these small dwellings. The cavern ceiling stretched forth seemingly endlessly upwards, embed with shining blue gems. Grub remembered in his history lessons that the ceiling was designed after the ancient sky of his ancestors before their banishment.

Weaving through the streets, they found the ration stand. A Changeling server was handing out trays of white fungus along with tiny vials of a viscous liquid. In them was soma, a liquid that could contain emotions. The liquid was crystal clear by nature but when imbued with love it shifted red. As the line diminished in twos and threes, Arista and Grub received their vials along with their tray of white fungus. They found seats in the blackened stone benches.

Arista looked at the barely pink liquid that filled he vial. “Curse them, they’ve been diluting the rations again. There’s less love here than before.”

Grub poured his soma over his fungus like gravy. He’d heard it told by a soldier that had sampled overworld food that their fungus had the consistency of mashed potatoes. Yet more things he would never experience, he thought as he shrugged and replied.. “At least it’s red-ish.”

His coworker nodded. “Remember when those idiots extracted anger and put it in the soma. There was a riot.”

“I don’t think it was entirely the contaminated food… every Changeling has been antsy. There’s been less and less to go around.”

“They left my fungus cold again,” said Arista pouting. She pushed her tray towards Grub. “You think you could—”

Grub rolled his eyes and nodded. He looked about to see if anyone was watching. When he saw no one was interested, he sparked his horn, sending a small fireball into Arista’s meal.

“Nice and hot.” Arista took a deep bite, savoring the taste.

“Hush, workers aren’t supposed to know magic.”

Arista smiled. “They aren’t supposed to read either.”

Grub whispered. “Yeah, because some books teach magic.”

As he ate from his tray, vaguely warm feelings filled his stomach. They disappeared too soon with his last bite and he was left wanting more.

“Hear ye! Hear ye, Princess Chrysalis returns!” A voice rang through the streets.

Arista gobbled the rest of her food. “Let’s check it out.”

Crowds of cheering Changelings gathered in the streets, watching green cocoons be wheeled forth in carts. Escorting the carts were members of the soldier caste. The tips of their dark steel ebony spears glimmered in the light of glowbug lanterns. The parade was a welcome distraction.

A Changeling crier led the procession. “Hear ye! Hear ye! Chrysalis returns! Your Warrior Princess brings you the plunder of conquest! Cities of the overworld fell to her martial prowess! Food for the colony!”

“Fly me up; I can’t see,” said Arista.

“One airlift coming up.” Grub nodded. He wrapped his hooves around Arista and lifted her up. Beating his wings harder, he gained altitude. He flew to rooftop and set her down.

“I’m so glad I have a friend with wide wings. I get the best views,” said Arista as she patted Grub's translucent extensions.

“I’m only friend you have with wings.” Grub grumbled.

They observed the parade from their vantage point. Some particularly large cocoons caught their attention. Inside were the forms of creatures that seemed two legged.

“They took down diamond dogs,” said Grub, pointing with his hoof.

Arista frowned as she stared at the glowing lights of the parade. “I remember the parade out of the colony was longer. A good chunk of the overworld expeditionary forces didn’t return.”

“Yeah, but look at those that did.” Grub pointed out to the Changeling soldiers’ gleaming carapaces. The heavy armored troopers’ ebony armor shone even brighter. The proud soldiers seemed well fed and trudged along without weariness. Grub's swelled with admiration and jealousy of the warriors.

“You know if you beg and plead, one of the Princesses might take you as a vassal.”

“I wouldn’t want any Princess,” said Grub.

In the middle of the parade, there was an elegantly adorned palanquin carried by strongest and largest Changelings. It was made of black wood, a luxury of no less than royalty. A thin shroud covered it and the passenger box. Seen only in silhouette was Princess Chrysalis.

Chrysalis sat impatiently on her pillow. The throngs of cheering Changelings were but shadows against her shroud. She motioned to her palanquin to stop.

A soldier flew next to her. “My Princess, what is it?”

“Lietenant Husk, remove the shroud. I wish to gaze upon my subjects.”

The attendant whispered. “It is for your safety. Rumors abound of an assassination plot.”

She commanded more sternly. “Remove the shroud; I have faced diamond dog armies and dragon lords. I don’t fear daggers in the dark.”

“Yes my Princess.”

He turned towards the palanquin. His blue eyes widened as he saw the shroud lift. The cheering Changelings roared louder as they beheld their Princess. He still could only just make out her figure in the distance.

Arista laughed. “Grub, you can’t be serious. You like Chrysalis?”

“What if I do.” He defied his friend.

“Princess Beelzeba is favored by the Queen and the infiltrator caste.”

“Beelzeba just sits. I haven’t seen her take a single action.”

“Princess Cerci is closest to the Captains and the caste Commanders.”

“That’s because she sleeps with them— all of them.”

“Still, comparatively, Chrysalis is least likely to win the crown. You don’t want to jump onto a sinking ship.”

Grub snapped at Arista’s skepticism. “Bah! You haven’t been topside, you don’t even know what a ship looks like. I think Chrysalis is beautiful; she leads troops into battle. She’s actually trying to do something about the famine.”

“Your funeral, once Beelzeba wins the crown she’ll kill the competition to the last Changeling. If Cerci wins she’ll do worse.”

He sighed in powerlessness. “It’s not like I’ll impress any of them to accept me. I’m not even soldier caste.”

“You could be a soldier. You were good enough with a spear when we played as nymphs. Plus you do all that reading. Few workers or soldiers can boast about that.”

He shook his head. “How many Changelings do you know break out of their caste?”

Arista rubbed his green mane. “That’s right, embrace the hopelessness. We’re workers and we’ll die workers.”

“Your dark humor isn’t helping.” In defeat, he perched his head against the stone guard rail of the roof. Level with his head he saw another glint in the darkness. Across from his rooftop he spied another Changeling. The other Changeling seemed to be assembling a strange mechanism.

“Stay here, something is going on.”

Grub flew across to the other roof. Upon closer inspection, the Changeling in question was a wingless worker. The worker was too focused upon looking down a tube device mounted atop his strange mechanism to notice.

“Hey what are you doing?”

The worker jumped up. His weapon discharged with a twang. The surprised worker moved from the device.

Chrysalis waved to her adoring subjects. In the skyline, she noticed a blur as a Changeling flew over the rooftops. Suddenly a bolt hit her palanquin, digging into the wood. She jumped away from the bolt that nearly skewered her.

“Assassin!” Cried one of her guards.

“Find the enemy!” Shouted another.

The soldiers lowered their spears and scoured the crowd for the source of the projectile.

“Protect the Princess!” Guards beat their wings and hovered in front of Chrysalis.

Chrysalis calmly plucked the bolt from the woodwork of her carriage. She noticed the dripping liquid from tip. “Poison?” She inferred. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she focused on the two forms above her on the rooftop.

Grub faced the wingless worker. “You tried to kill Princess Chrysalis!”

“You! You messed everything up! My mate is dead now!” Screamed the worker.

“What?” said Grub, baffled.

“Arghh!” The worker levitated a dagger and caught it in his mouth. He lunged for Grub.

“Wait stop!” Grub dodged the worker’s swings. One of the swipes caused crimson to streak across his hooves. His senses became sharp. Using his own magic, he pulled the dagger away from the worker. Relentlessly the worker swung his hooves at Grub. A hoof smacked heavily against his chest.

The worker attacked with despondent rage. “My wife is dead now! They’ll kill her because I failed!”

“Who?!” Grub tried to dodge.

Still magically holding the dagger, he was helpless as the worker impaled himself against it.

Grub stammered at he looked at bleeding Changeling. In the worker’s dying gasp, he splashed red against Grub's face. In shock, Grub stood still as he was overcome by what he had done.

He barely noticed as a squad of Changelings surrounded him.

“Seize him!” Cried an officer in armor.

The soldiers wrapped him in an immobilizing magical sheath. He was helpless as he was floated down onto the streets.

Grub was slammed into the stone floor of the street and held there by magical pressure. He noticed the dead body of the assassin was also brought with him.

A Changeling from the guard reported. “Princess, we found one assassin dead. We captured this one.”

Chrysalis spoke with authority. “The weapon in question?”

The string, metal, and wood mechanism was brought forth in front of the Princess. She inspected it closely. “A Griffin crossbow with an Equestrian telescope? This is a rare import.”

At the edge of Chrysalis protective ring of soldiers, a Changeling begged to be heard. “Please! He’s not an assassin! He was trying to stop the real one!” Arista was held back by crossed spears.

“Princess, shall we detain her also?” Asked a guard.

“No, let her through,” said Chrysalis.

Arista bowed as she was released. “I witnessed it! Grub is a hero! He tried to stop that assassin!” Arista pointed to the dead worker.

A guard whispered in Chrysalis’ ear. “It could be a deception.”

“No, I witnessed him fly across the roof myself. The other one is a wingless worker.” Chrysalis turned to the guards who held Grub. “Release him.”

Grub gasped as he was released from the choking pressure of the guards’ magical detainment. He only gasped further when he saw Princess Chrysalis in front of him. He immediately fell to his hooves and bowed.

“Arise.” She beckoned kindly.

Grub complied and stiffened as he beheld her. The Princess was only slightly larger than her most muscled soldier. A Changelings’ wings weren’t naturally riddled with holes like their hooves. Sometimes through malnutrition holes would develop however the way which her’s were cut there was no mistaking. Chrysalis’ wounded wings were battle scars for her people. Her dark azure hair was like a light curtain to her face, fierce emerald eyes peered through the strands. There was a brutal elegance to her form.

“Soldier, you have saved my life. Prithee, soldier, tell me your noble name.”

Grub lowered his head shamefully. “I am a worker and my name is Grub.”

Several of Chrysalis’ guards snorted in disdain.

“Very well, Grub, you have my favor.” Chrysalis moved past her guards.

Grub nearly fell over when the Princess kissed his forehead. He felt empowered. The warm feeling reminded him of his diluted meals but so much stronger. The sensation filled him with heat.

She spoke sadly. “Tis a taste of true love, taken from the dying breath of a soldier upon the field of battle. The energy was refined by a soldier who bled for me, a kiss of life and death.” Chrysalis touched Grub's bleeding wound.

Chrysalis’ guards were stunned as was Grub. He bowed again. “I am not worthy.”

“As a Princess of the Changeling people, I shall bestow upon you a boon. Name your reward.”

“Wasn’t that it?” asked Grub confused.

“It was but a kiss.” Chrysalis laughed. “Now name something more definite.”

“I wish only to serve you, Princess Chrysalis.”

“This evening come by my keep, I shall grant you your wish.” She turned toward her soldiers. “To the palace, we fly. I am late to greet my mother—” Her last words were filled with anger. “and my sisters.”

With a buzz, Chrysalis and her guards departed.

The palace walkway was flanked by fully armored soldiers. The stone steps were cold and foreboding as Princess Chrysalis walked up them. She could fly but old customs forbade it. She sighed, calming herself before she reached the top.

Seated in the center throne was a greater Changeling with green strands for a mane, a robust horn, and large crown. Beside her were two other Changelings, the same size as Chrysalis. One had bright yellow hair and sat closest to the Queen, she wore a sly smile. The other had a deep purple mane; she exuded arrogance and confidence.

Chrysalis bowed before her; the largest of the changelings. “Queen Mother Gossamer, forgive me for my lateness, I was attacked on the way here.” Chrysalis glared at her sisters.

“Why are you looking at me? It was no doubt a vengeful widower of one the soldiers you’ve lead to their deaths.” Dismissed the golden maned Princess.

“Avert your eyes, sister. They make accusations your mouth cannot support.” Spoke the purple maned Princess.

Queen Gossamer spoke. “Daughter, rest assured. A full investigation shall be launched. Now explain yourself.”

Chrysalis nodded. “I return from my expeditions. I bring food to feed our people.”

The yellow maned Princess spoke in false concern and pouted. “Our little sister Chrysalis returns with so few of her soldiers. I was so worried.” The mocking mask of her fake face boiled Chrysalis’ anger.

Chrysalis stood firm. “Sacrifices had to be made. The food crisis demands it.”

“A crisis? Chrysy, I see no crisis?” The gilded Changeling drank a highly concentrated red vial equivalent to months’ worth of rations.

“The hive has grown. The population isn’t sustainable.” She retorted.

The purple maned changeling spoke. “Sister Cerci, don’t disparage Chrysalis for losing soldiers. I’m sure each loss was worthy. She can explain as much to their mated ones.”

Chrysalis lowered her head slightly in self-doubt. “Beezleba, I saw no other choice.”

“Is that so?” Beezleba bit bitterly. “Your foolish publicity stunts have cost the colony greatly.”

She countered. “Glory? You think I risked life and limb for glory?!”

Cerci twirled her golden hair whimsically. “Oh, but Beezleba, I see Chrysy’s cruel reasoning. She thinks it’s a wonderful way of ridding the surplus population. The more expeditions she goes on the less there is to feed.”

It was the final straw. Her horn glowed, ready for combat. “You yellow maggot!” Chrysalis blasted her voice. “I will rend flesh from your—”

“SILENCE!” Their Queen projected her voice physically and mentally. The Royal Changeling voice was a power to be feared and respected.

“Queen Gossamer.” All three sisters spoke softly their monarch’s name as they quieted.

“Cerci, Beezleba, do not antagonize your sister. I am sure she understands what was sacrificed. I recall last we spoke she had a lieutenant standing beside her.”

Chrysalis rubbed her hooves as she looked besides her at nothing.

Gossamer continued. “Her harvest was humble, on the scales I do not feel it is even to our loss.”

Cerci grinned while Beezleba remained stoically observing. Chrysalis lowered her head further in shame.

“However Chrysalis’ expeditions were with good intentions. In times of talk, she took action which is more than can be said of others.”

Cerci frowned as her mother’s gaze passed her. Beezleba remained calm.

“I am sorry, mother. I shall try harder.” Chrysalis bowed.

Gossamer’s words were tender but firm. “No more, dear daughter. Outright conquest is not our people’s way. We shall rely upon the time tested methods.”

Beezleba nodded. “My infiltrators should be granted more resources.”

Cerci interjected. “We require better resource management; Caste Commanders should be given more power.”

“One more expedition!” Chrysalis blurted out.

Cerci laughed and even Beezleba smiled.

Chrysalis stood up tall to defend her words. “One more expedition… either I return with a harvest worthy of colony… or I shall not return at all.”

“Our little sister, I think she should be granted a second chance.” Cerci smiled deviously.

“I concur.” Beezleba nodded. “If she is so confident in her abilities then certainly.”

Gossamer sighed. “Princess Chrysalis, do you understand what you are offering?”

“Yes.”

Grub walked listless through the streets for a while. Arista walked with him. He was stunned to silence.

Arista leaned against Grub. “Wow, the favor of a princess! Aren’t you special?”

“I killed another worker.”

“Yeah, an assassin that was going to kill the Princess.”

“I suppose…”

“How was the kiss?”

“It was like nothing I’ve ever felt,” said Grub. He recalled the feeling fondly. He felt nothing would satisfy ever again.

“So are you going?” Arista poked Grub with her hoof.

“What?”

“You’ve been awestruck for this past hour. They’re turning in the glowbug-lamps. It’s evening. You’ve got a date with a Princess.” Arista teased.

“I guess… but if I become her vassal wouldn’t this mean good bye?” Grub turned toward Arista.

She shook her head. “I don’t know what we have together… however I couldn’t bear to hold you back. I’ve always felt you were worth more.”

“I read of it in a book. I believe it is called friendship.”

“I know, smart flank. I read too.”

Grub's brows were raised in surprise. “Reading is forbidden to worker caste, isn’t that what you always said?”

“Yeah, I blame you for that. Good bye… my friend.”

“You’re so certain I’ll be accepted. I won’t betray your faith. If I get to the top, I’ll bring you up too.”

She frowned. “Good bye, Grub.”

Grub walked a ways, weaving through the districts. The Princesses had separate keeps. Chrysalis had located her home adjacent to the soldier barracks. The dark tower was not tallest or the grandest but probably the most defendable. He was surprised that only two guards stood at the gateway.

He meekly approached. “Hi, I’m Grub. I was told to come here by Princess Chrysalis.”

“Yes, I was told to expect your arrival,” said the male guard opening the gate.

“Thanks,” said Grub.

He was rudely surprised when the gate was slammed in his face by the other guard.

“Worker worm, we were told to let you in but we don’t think we will,” said the female guard snarling.

“What? But—” said Grub.

The male guard twirled his spear. “I’ve guarded Princess Chrysalis for years. I can sense treachery.”

Grub stammered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

The female guard pointed her spear at Grub. “You killed the assassin before he could be interrogated. You could be another plant, set up to gain the Princess’s trust.”

“You’re kidding me,” said Grub.

“You’re a spy,” said the male guard. With a swing of his spear he knocked Grub into the stone floor.

“I’m not a spy!” Grub pleaded.

“Or worse you’re just another lewd tail chaser after her flank,” said the female guard.

Grub blushed. “I’m not that either!”

“Prove it! If you can get through us then you can see Chrysalis,” said the female guard.

“I swear to you my intentions are pure.”

“I’ll beat a lying worm like you to death before I permit you to see our Princess!” The male guard smashed Grub again with the length of his spear.

“Worker worm, presumes himself equal!” the female guard struck with a powerful hind kick.

Grub felt the pain in his sides as he stood up. If only he had the strength to oppose them. He remembered Chrysalis’s kiss. He still held the power in his reserves of magic. He sparked his horn and projected a ball of fire. He hurled towards one of his advancing attackers.

“High level magic! I knew he was not a worker,” said the male guard spinning his spear to deflect the firebolt.

“Flank him!” the female guard struck at Grub's side. Again he felt the shattering strength of her hooves.

The male guard charged smacking him in the jaw with his spear.

He coughed blood this time as he tried to stand up.

“Leave and we won’t kill you,” said the male guard.

“What reason is worth your life?” asked the female guard.

Grub spat out a loose tooth. “I was born a worker. All my life I’ve been left wanting. I don’t care if I live or die! I came here to change that! You dare extinguish my hope in hell?! Feel my despair!”

He used the last of his strength upon a spell he only read of. His horn glowed and erased reality. Projecting his emotions, all of his despair and hopelessness was angrily vented. A lifetime’s laboring was poured forth. The drudgery of a gray existence was focused in a tidal wave.

The male guard crumpled over. He writhed in agony. The female guard barely stood.

The guards were left panting as the projection was abruptly cut off. Grub lay on the ground.

“We might have been killed if he had enough mana,” said the male guard, shakily standing up.

The female guard scoffed and corrected her counterpart. “Husk, you might have.”

Husk nodded. “Still an emotive attack, it is advanced sorcery.”

The female guard replied. “It requires a great deal of mana and saps the soul if not enough is to be had. Only an amateur would employ it without knowing their limits. He might not be a spy.”

“Perhaps a desperate expert might make an amateur move.” Husk suggested.

In a plume of emerald flames, the female guard revealed herself. Her limb lengthened and her profile rose above her counterpart. “In any case he was willing to risk death to see me. I shall inquire about how he learned such magic after he is healed. He has passed my test.”

Husk bowed. “Yes, Princess.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 2 Schemes and Dreams Estimated time remaining: 14 Minutes