Story of Toutlemonde

by Karibela

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Crossover
Length: 5068

Valiant is an earth pony, learning the mysteries of the past. Toutlemonde was an earth pony, fighting to create a better future.

Valiant is a pony unlocking a part of the past which has been kept secret.
Toutlemonde is a struggling farm pony hoping to survive and make something of himself.

A story depicting an Equestria in a similar situation of Europe, in the late 18th century, the story loosely based on the French emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, but assuredly not just a retelling in the pony universe.

I am finished with the first act! After a few tweaks I'll see what I can do to publish this on the site as soon as possible, and hope for good reception.

Additional categories: Sci-fi, History

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-09 21:50:01 UTC

Chapter %i%

Chapter 1

ACT I --  CHAPTER I

REVELATION

Valiant Charge, an Earth pony colt working on a large farm, was just one of many ponies wanting to get indoors after a hard day’s work.

Valiant had was steeped in curiosity since he was young - always asking questions and finding out what about what he didn’t know. But what he really had a calling for was technology, marked by two cogs as his cutie mark. He’d even taken the family washing machine apart, out of curiosity to find out how it worked. And as such, in the surroundings he lived in on the farm, he had always wanted to find out about the rest of the world, to see new things, and find out how they worked.

The farm itself was one of the many patches of land on the outskirts of modern day Fillydelphia, a city on the east side of Equestria, where all types of ponies (and even the occasional zebra) lived in harmony amongst the tall stone houses and sprawling markets.

And you could not find a community more friendlier and accepting than this one, with different species helping each other in day-to-day business without complaint. The Pegasi controlled the skies, aiding the Earth ponies who grew the food, while in turn the Unicorns took on the long and arduous administrative work that held the city together.

Therefore on harvest day, when the fruit and vegetables were collected just before the start of winter, all of the ponies did their bit to make it go as well as possible. They managed to do a good job at it too, and before long the bumper crop had been gathered.  Valiant had just finished his duties and began to head off, when a mare with a familiar voice called to him.

“Hey, Val!” asked Sweet Pea, another Earth pony and friend of Valiant’s, currently overloaded with countless baskets of fruit and a muddy spade balanced on the top.

“You wouldn’t mind taking this spade over to that barn over there, would you?” pointing to a ragged old building off in the distance. “I would go and do it myself, but, well…” She pointed at her back.

“Sure!” replied Valiant, seeing the state she was in.

“Thanks a bunch! Can’t wait for the apple pies we’re gonna make this season, it looks like we’ll be stuffed ‘til new year!” said Sweet Pea as she trotted over to the farmhouse.

Valiant was just as excited about this season’s harvest, especially for the tiny cherry cakes, which were his favourite, and were made by Ms.Shortbread in the city centre every year. The magically gifted cook could make a pastry taste perfect in her kitchen.

Valiant was daydreaming about them all the way to the barn, without realising that he’d never visited it before, and that it certainly didn’t look like the proper tool shed. The paint had peeled off in all sorts of places, as well as the door being weathered by the weather, and constant use.

The inside of the barn was barely any better. The wood seemed to have been chewed straight through by a family of mice, and holes littered the walls, shining light through to the gloomy inside.

His mind off of Ms.Shortbread’s cooking, Valiant went to the task at hand. Clearly, this was not the tool shed, the barn was mostly bare. But before leaving he took a look final around and noticed that covered in hay, in the back of the barn, was a brown box with some sort of lock on it. Valiant was always a curious colt, and he advanced with interest on the box.

Looking at it a good few hooves away, Valiant saw that the box was not a box, but in fact a chest, with an easily accessible push lock attached to it.

Valiant felt lucky that it didn’t need a key, and as his curiosity took hold, he went on to open the chest.

And so he did, with little to no effort, and inside the box lay a rather strange shoddy-looking hat, which unusually had two sides, with the middle of it sticking out awkwardly with many worn decorations and medals pinned on. Valiant had never seen something like it before, and it certainly didn’t seem like the new fashion from Canterlot.

Valiant concluded that it must have been the previous owner’s winter hat, seeing that the interior was lined with wool. He also decided that it would be a good idea to trouble Barkbeard about it, and see if he could make anything of it.

Barkbeard was the historian and relic-collector of Fillydelphia. If a Fillydelphian pony found almost any type of artifact, it was Barkbeard who could tell them what it was. He also had a peculiar accent for an Earth pony, as well as being able to speak what other ponies regarded as “fancy talk” (Which was a prevalent feature on the hat).

Rumour had it that Barkbeard used to travel all around Equestria where he picked the language up from far distant lands, but due to his old age now was more than happy staying at his home in Fillydelphia, where his renown for being a historian resulted in ponies coming to him with all manners of objects from the past.

It was getting dark, and after Valiant returned the spade to the right tool shed, he said goodbye to the other farm ponies and started to trot the way to the door of Barkbeard’s abode with the strange hat. His every breath formed a pale misty haze in front of him which disappeared in seconds as he crossed the winding streets and back alleys on his journey, as he navigated his way through the walkways.

He eventually found the solid wood entrance to Barkbeard’s house, and knocked the door firmly three times with his left hoof. He heard Barkbeard approaching the door, who opened it half-way and hesitated, looking at Valiant for a few seconds.

“Allo, uh. Charge is it?” Barkbeard said, contorting his face as he tried to remember the names of ponies.

“Yeah, um, it’s Valiant,” replied Valiant.

Barkbeard hesitated again, searching for Valiant in his mind.

“Ah, Valiant Charge, one of the farm ponies over at hedgerow house, correct?” Valiant nodded.

What did you want, Valiant? It is quite late, after all,” asked Barkbeard, as he looked overhead and saw the moon settled in the dark sky.

“I was looking in one of the barns out near the apple orchards, and I found this in a chest,” said Valiant, raising the hat off from his back into plain sight of Barkbeard.

A usual response from Barkbeard in this situation would be to take the object given to him and thank the finder-pony. He take a few glances at it later on the next day, and give back a couple of quick notes on it in the most positive way possible (“What you have found may just be a common tent-peg, but don’t lose heart, I’m almost certain from these markings and...etc. that this was not used by any common pony, my friend!”).

Instead, he looked at the tattered hat, and a mesh of memories came shooting into his mind, making him instantly straighten up, with a twinkling in his eye.

“Valiant, please forgive me, but this is no normal hat!” spoke Barkbeard in an astonished tone. “This, what we would call a bicorne, is something I would not have believed somepony to find! If you could, please come and drop by tomorrow, if you are truly interested in knowing the tales accompanied by this find. But I may warn you, it is not for the faint of heart. And for Celestia’s sake, but it back in the chest you found it in and bring it back here safely!”

Valiant, rather taken back by the response he was not expecting from the wise stallion, simply nodded as Barkbeard close shut the door firmly. Valiant returned to the barn, where he placed the hat in and shut the lock.

Still dazed, he hoisted it onto his back, and went home. He decided against telling any of his family, and instead rushed up to his room, put down the chest, and flung himself onto his bed.

But even though his internal clock was ordering him to, he could not sleep, and he thought

for a good hour about Barkbeard’s response.

What was important about this hat? Was it famous? Famous thing’s don’t get locked up in decrepit barns.

Was it cursed? Maybe that’s why it was meant to go in the chest? Valiant shuddered at the thought, and pushed the chest to the other side of the room with one of his back hooves.

He suddenly realised then that he was extremely tired after the hard day’s work, and although he pursued dwelling on the subject of the mysterious hat for as long as he could, Valiant eventually drifted off into slumber.

* * *

The next morning came, and Valiant awoke to the sun’s rays arching across his room in the

usual fashion.

Having completely forgotten the events of yesterday, he took a look at his calendar which read “Thursday”, and forced himself out of his comfortable bed. Thursday was a work day.

He stretched, and then reluctantly trotted down the stairs, where he made himself a slice of toast. Without magic, he thought, everything is such a bother. Even buttering toast takes skill to do, without dropping the knife on the floor.

“Remember to comb your mane before you leave!” his sister, Graceful, called out to him.

“Remember to comb your mane,” he repeated in his head. It would be difficult even to do that without magic.  Another one of life’s daily routines. But as he recalled, something out of routine happened. Something interesting.

And as he ate through his breakfast, he remembered the chest. He remembered how scared he was yesterday, and thought how ridiculously worried he got. After all, it was just a battered brown box with somepony’s hat in it.

And then he remembered - Barkbeard! He would have to go and meet him today. What interesting story could lie in his discovery?  Then he sighed; it was a work day. So he would have to wait. Feeling annoyed, the beige colt got up from the breakfast table and started searching for the comb.

It was another uneventful day at the farms, and the only thing separating it from the day before was that instead of harvesting, they were planting the new seeds, watering the trees, and cutting the bushes that were overflowing onto the pathways surrounding the fields. When that was over, the farm ponies had a half hour break, before attending to other less pressing issues, like helping the mill ponies crush the wheat, repairing and repainting the picket fences damaged by the cold weather, and so on.

But Valiant didn’t forgot his task for after work, and even told a couple of his friends and fellow workmates about the strange hat.

None of them either, it seemed, had heard of a style called “bicorne”, and they all seemed quite worried, in the same way as Valiant was during the night before, by the way Barkbeard reacted after seeing the hat.

But enough waiting! The shift had come to an end (a bit earlier than yesterday, his shift before was prolonged because of the harvesting), and while other ponies trotted off to their own homes, Valiant returned home where he greeted his mother (who was already out in the morning) and sister, picked up the chest, and went back to the stone-built house in the alleyways of Fillydelphia.

* * *

It seemed that Barkbeard was waiting on him intently, for when Valiant got in view of the house, the door was opened without a doubt this time with a friendly ‘Welcome!’ and was let in and led to a small round table with a couple of stools beside it.

Perched on top of the table was a tiny bordered painting of an unknown pony, and a map of what looked like Equestria, on a tanned and tattered piece of paper.

“Come, sit down, Valiant! You shall find that the story of Toutlemonde Rêves takes more than a few words!” said Barkbeard as he placed himself on a stool.

“Toot-laymonday?” spelled out Valiant slowly as he followed suit on the other stool. “I’ve never heard of it.” He paused. “Is it fancy talk for something?”

“Yes, in fact, it’s the name of long forgotten pony. What we call ‘Fancy talk’ now was a well known language long ago, but at the time of the pony Toutlemonde, was used primarily for names, much as we now give our fellow ponies names of fruit, and the such.”

“Now I must ask you, before we begin, to not utter a single word of this story to anyone

else, lest it come back to Celestia herself.” Barkbeard said in a serious tone.

Valiant looked down with guilt after remembering telling all of his acquaintances at the farm. “Do not worry yourself just now, even if you may have told your friends! They know nothing important, yet. A bicorne itself was used over many years, not just the period in time that I shall talk about.”

“I trust that you shall not speak any more of it now, though. Any questions?”

“Just one” replied Valiant, puzzled. “How come Celestia can’t know about this story? Does she not know?”

“Oh yes, she knows, and very well! And if she knew that we had an artifact from Toutlemonde himself, she would set upon the task of finding and destroying it, quickly,” remarked Barkbeard knowingly.

“Why would she ever do that?” asked the concerned brown colt, taken aback.

“Because Celestia is a very wise princess, my friend. And she knows that some ponies are not destined to know the events of the past, lest it takes them to some action, or at the very least, into a heated discussion with one of their fellows. I do not believe you are one of those ponies, and therefore I will tell you this story, but with the utmost discretion. Any other questions?” Barkbeard asked.

“Hmm.. Nope,” replied Valiant, shaking his head briskly.

“Good! Then we may move on and begin!” said Barkbeard.

Chapter %i%

Chapter 2

ACT I -- CHAPTER 2

FILLYDALALIAN FARMERS

The story begins before the banishment of Luna, even as far back as before Discord’s uprising. Before Discord’s chaos, there were many more settlements than there are now scattered across Equestria. There are towns now which were non existent. Ponyville, for instance.

The Alicorn sisters are another good example of the difference between now and then. They were alive at the time, but were young, and not yet capable of moving the sun and moon as we take advantage of today. Instead, the most talented of the unicorns in Canterlot were tasked with doing it, and they did it well. Even though they had the limitations of finite power compared to our princesses, they could overcome the challenge.

This was an age before many inventions that we can take for granted today. But it was an age of possibilities. An age of innovation. The brightest minds of Equestrian technology geared themselves in the direction of new ideas. Due to the expansion in the cities (such as the majestic Manehatten, or the then sprawling city of Pegasopolis) caused by this influx of new technology, in this case in the advancement of medical and agricultural endeavours, there was a boom in the pony population. There were many more ponies back then.

But the world had a problem -  it was not a world of harmony, peace, or equality. Not the one we see today.

Many historians assume that after the tribes formed the country of Equestria, they coexisted in peace and harmony, without dispute. They also assume that this age of technology and inventions had never happened, until the reigns of Celestia and Luna. This is not the real history of Equestria, which was locked away and known only by a select few, including myself. What really happened, was that the three main tribes split Equestria into their own separate kingdoms, each with their strengths and weaknesses, and their opinions of the other kingdoms.

The Unicorns, being the magic that allowed the coalition of the three tribes, and having the great castle of Canterlot as the capital, were the natural leaders of the three tribes. Their magical power helped them in almost every matter being that they were not restricted to using only their hooves, and in most cases this kept them on top of the other ponies. Any tool that any other pony used, a Unicorn could use better.

Therefore, they had carved themselves the most useful land in the middle of Equestria, and were well known for their arrogance and pompous nature towards the other breeds, due to their inherited superiority. They were not

The Pegasi had not only great warriors and conquerors in their history, but also the most talented architects, showing even now, in the grand structures of Cloudsdale. After the forming of Equestria, they quickly usurped the lands of the north, just beside the crystal mountains. Their wings allowed for unparalleled charges from the front and flank, rushing over any wall, giving them a strong advantage on the battlefield and that wasn’t all, sheer numbers were a strong contributor to their success, as well as their control and manipulation of weather patterns.

The Pegasi had always been the aggressors of the three tribes, taking over land at first from the indigenous species of animals, and then from the other tribe’s kingdoms. They had managed to take land from the Unicorns, in the past, giving their claims to parts of the everfree forest, and a large area north of the San Palomino desert, forming two of their largest cities at the time of this story.

Their foundations were tradition, and were usually the most hot-headed as they secretly felt that all other types of ponies were “weak” compared to them in military ability, a bold statement that was not based on opinion.

The Earth ponies were easily the most downtrodden of the three. Without the horn of a unicorn, or wings of a pegasi, they had no unique ability. Their military was renownedly weak compared to the others; giving the Pegasi the chance to take what they would in their past conflicts; as well as the griffon privateers from across the eastern sea, who had most notably managed to snatch the whole of Horseshoe Bay.

Their politicians and queens were often subjects to a higher power, in most cases to the Unicorns, for protection. This was essentially pointless - the Unicorns had more important things to deal with than the Earth ponies, in their opinion.

The only land they had as their own, was in the very north east of Equestria, where the most fertile fields would grow. Their task was to produce the food for the other tribes, on threat of invasion. Their stance in the world was of a secret, but burning and passionate hatred, in the same way as a slave would hate his master, shared by the common ponies against not only the other kingdoms, but also the Earth pony rulers, who did such a bad job.

The kingdoms were always competitors against each other, trying to better one another in any way possible. The new ideas and inventions rising up now were one way. Technology was given to Equestria in almost all aspects of life. Factories spruced up across cities everywhere, using machines such as pony kind had never seen before. The newest dresses were now made with sewing machines, helping the busy tailors through the massive demand for new clothes. Printing presses would pump out the latest newspapers and posters, as ponies wanted to learn more about their ever-changing world, and with them came advertisements promoting the first companies and businesses, who were as much rivals as each other as the kingdoms which they were based in.

Advancements were not only in social and business matters, however. An important discovery was the invention of black powder (found by the aptly named unicorn Quinn the Volatile). Used in modern day Equestria for fireworks, ponies at the time harnessed its power for the military.

They used it to revolutionise Equestria through such contraptions as the firearm, which was an invention made sometime before our story begins. Aside from the pegasi, and the buffalo tribes in the great plains, the races of Equestria equipped themselves with the complex hoof-held weapons, of which two-pony crews, one to fire and the other to keep the contraption stable, shot small balls of lead whizzing through the air to take down their targets in a haze of smoke and fire, leveling the playing field against even the Unicorns, as only the most adept magi could deflect the shots effectively.

Ranged combat beforehand was limited to the unicorns using telekinesis. With firearms, anypony, or other species such as the Zebras, could hit another from thirty or so yards, in as little as two week’s training.

Soon the evolution of these tools of war were the core of most Equestrian armies. Larger contraptions such as cannons were developed, but their expensive cost and ability to move around were issues that the armies could not deal with, yet. And some army divisions, such as the Pegasi flying lancers, and the elite magi of the Unicorns, seemed to be too powerful to be given up. Earlier practises were therefore not let go completely.

Despite the ponies having strong rivalries against one another, ‘Combat’ was for the most part gone for the last hundred or so years, aside from the Griffon pirates to the east and the occasional dragon raid from the south.

The borders had been set, and diplomatic relations had been achieved to a point where fighting pointless wars for territory was a rare and unjustifiable occasion. Instead, the rulers of Equestria would be enforcing their rules on the common folk, so as to keep their precarious positions safe, while at the same time showing off their wealth and superiority to the other kingdoms in a sort of ‘proxy’ war.

As the rich became richer through the companies that they owned that would be used for these rivalries, the poor became poorer, and were not given a friendly hoof up by the privileged elite.

War was a distant idea by then, but with the rivalries mounting up between kingdoms, the old instincts for conquest and reconquest, the urge to try out their new and much more advanced weaponry, all that was needed was a spark to relight war in Equestria. That spark was the Earth Pony Revolution.

* * *

This story starts in this very city. Fillydelphia, as it is called now, which was a humble village in those times. It was called a different name back then, ‘Fillydale’.

We begin at the first mention of the poor brown-coloured Earth colt by the name of Toutlemonde Rêves, as he worked the fields as nopony special, in fact, he could be seen as quite the opposite. He could easily be mistaken for any other pony in Fillydale at this time; penniless, downtrodden and hoping for some sort of positive change to him, and his family and friends, enduring hardships as the winter months came by.

In his early years he was an easily frightened colt, however, scared not only of his oppressors, but of the world and ponies around him. After all, if the queen of his land, supposedly one of the most well suited ponies for the job, neglects her subjects in that they can not even eat for a day each week, then how nice can any other pony be in anywhere else?

Toutlemonde was merely doing his job that day, to plow. He knew that if he did not, he would not be able to produce enough food for market. And in turn, the little money he would make would not pay the taxes, or be able to purchase food for his family.

There was one pony there that Toutlemonde feared more than any other. The taxpony. The very mention was enough to inspire fear into the hearts of the strong but weary ponies Fillydale had so many of. After seeing friends around him living on the streets, he knew that the attitude toward the taxpony was justified. His family had always tried to be quick to pay out whatever was necessary to make the taxpony satisfied, as they did when he had come the day before.

However, the very same stallion in question cantered towards him as Toutlemonde was working on the fields.

Toutlemonde looked up, and felt a small pang of terror at the sight of the taxpony, but then a reassurance, as he remembered that he had payed just a day ago. What could they do to him now?

“Turtle-mond-day, is it?” pronounced the taxpony incorrectly, as he read it from a checkbook he had placed in his front left hoof.

“Yes? What seems to be the matter?” replied Toutlemonde, ignoring the taxpony’s error.

“I have orders from Queen Melody to collect from your family today.”

“What?” said Toutlemonde, with a high tone, “But we paid it, only yesterday! Surely you are mistaken!”

“Queen Melody has ordered an increase in the tax from Fillydale residents. I have my orders that your family has not yet paid the 7 bits required of them as of the bill formulated today. Is that the case?” asked the white stallion, looking from his checkbook to Toutlemonde.

“Well, yes, but… We weren’t told before, and, well, we have no more bits to give!” They had spent the remainders from yesterday on their meal for that day.

“Sorry, kid. But rules are rules, and I intend to follow them. I will be back next tax day, and if you do not have both this week and next week’s pay, I will have to repossess your house to the crown, assuming you have one. Otherwise, you and your family will be sent to the workstable. I would suggest working harder. Farewell.”

The workstable was a building in Manehatten, where the poorest of the poor would spend up to 16-hour days working the machines, with abysmal pay, and only the worst food that Equestria could offer.

The ponies of Fillydale had certainly heard of the workstable in the slums of Manehatten being given as a threat before, and had heard of stories of small fillies and colts getting trapped in machinery and never being found, and seen ponies come back from it with a limb or an eye short.

The tax pony tipped his triangular hat as he spoke the last word, and fell back to the    road, exiting through an old creaky gate, and taking the way to Fillydale village. Toutlemonde let out a shiver, and went back to his farm.

* * *

“Ppttthh!” Spat out Toutlemonde’s mother Argentpêche, spraying hot soup all over the dinner table at the family home when she heard the news.

“Another raise? What are they thinking, this is outrageous!”

“Not just an outrage, mam,” spoke his brother, Baratteàbeurre, leaning on the far wall.

“This is ignorance. Our fair queen will not see the end of this quickly, I tell you.”

“What do you mean by that, Barrate?” asked Toutlemonde, not fully understanding the situation.

“I’ve heard what the other ponies think back at the barn. And they think we should reject the royalty, damned be her name,” said Barrate, with extra spite added to the words ‘her name’.

Argent stood up. “Baratte! Do not insult our queen in such a way. She is still our protector, and you will do well not to say such things in this house!”

Barrate raised his voice. “ And when has she protected us? We live in our own shit down here, while our ‘Queen’ makes us work and pay until we die! And what do you suggest we

do? Let her continue ‘till we starve? Neigh, I refuse to do her bidding!” shouted Barrate, also now standing himself up.

He flung himself out of the door-hole of the hovel-like house. Silence followed.

“Should I go after him, mam?” Suggested Toutlemonde.

“No, let him go off and vent himself. Don’t worry yourself mon petit leMonde, we shall pull through this. Even if by a single mane-hair, we always do,” Said Argentpêche in a comforting tone.

* * *

The next day felt worse than the last by a mile. Not only was his brother still gone, but the poor brown Earth pony now had to work harder than before to attempt in making his extra bits, even though the task set seemed impossible. He forced himself on through the fields all day, as the swaying of the cereal-grasses in the breeze made it’s sweet melodies, overshadowed by the repetitive digging of the plow onto powdery soil.

His work remained uninterrupted, until midday, when he heard distant shouts from the direction of the village. Trying not to get distracted and focusing on the task at hoof, Toutlemonde kept on in his plowing.

A few minutes later, though, and the shouts became louder, and turned into words:

“RE-SIST! RE-FUSE!

RE-SIST! RE-FUSE!” The voices repeated.

Toutlemonde looked up. There were figures which appeared in view on the road to Fillydale. It seemed to be some kind of angry mob, holding what appeared to be farming equipment.

As the mob grew closer, the random clattering of metal tools, and hitting of pots and pans together could be heard along with the booming voices of the disgruntled villagers.

The brown colt could see familiar faces among its ranks. The baker’s apprentice, The village herald, and in the front ranks, a furious stallion with a dirty yellow coat,his brother, Baratteàbeure.

Trailing behind with the mob, beaten up and bruised in several places along his chest and face, and with his front hooves tied by twisted rope, was the taxpony.

Toutlemonde felt sorry for the poor stallion at the time, as well as a small pocket of satisfaction. He knew that there was another reason for doing it, aside from revenge.

They were sending a message which the Queen would be forced to respond to.

Chapter 3

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Chapter 4

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Chapter 5

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