8th of August, Monday
I'm not even sure that I'm allowed to write in this. Well, I've already written something down. A little late now, isn't it?
~~Huh.~~ (I can't believe I actually wrote that)
How should I even start this? Well, I guess I should start with my name, shouldn't I? My name is Faithful Merry, but my friends (the few that I have) call me Merry. I am twenty-three years old and I live in Hut #804, Crystal Berry Lane with my mother and my sister. I had a father, but he died in an accident while working in the crystal mines. That's where all the bad ponies go (the ones who break the law). Mom always says that he was sent down there for staying out after curfew, and it was a misunderstanding. I never really knew him, though; I was just a filly, but mom has a few pictures of him pinned to our wall.
Our hometown is the Crystal Empire, Middle of Nowhere. Sounds beautiful, doesn't it? Powerful? Not really! Well, aside from the powerful part, the streets and buildings are all a dark ashen color, like the fog of darkness clouding the perimeter, and the skies a hellish red. Nopony here is ever happy, not even the guards. But then again, there's nothing to really smile about with shackles on your hooves and a collar latched around your neck. The last stallion that did that was forced to eat pork meat in front of everypony on Hearth's Warming Eve, and then he died a couple days later.
Speaking of pork, the air smells horrible, like salt but raunchier. Maybe it's the ponies? We don't have proper baths like the ponies living in the Crystal Palace. We all share this one bath house, mares and stallions, no privacy, and the water is always freezing cold. Somehow, you always end up smelling worse coming out than you were going in. Some say there's a frozen lake nearby where we get our water, but I don't know. As long as the smell doesn't get in the way of our jobs, the guards couldn't care less. And if it wasn't the smell, then it would likely be my klutziness; it has always gotten in the way of others.
I was never strong enough to work in the mines, cruel enough to be a guard, or brave enough to be a caravan pony, though I've always wanted to see the world beyond the Black Fog. So what, you're wondering, did the Council do with a weak little nice-pony that trips over her own hooves? Why, make her a flyer pony, of course! Yep, for the past eighteen years I've migrated from pulling carrots out of the ground to sticking flyers on bulletin boards and street corners! Wouldn't Dad just be ecstatic? (Oh, Solianna forgive me! I shouldn't talk like that!)
It's just that, when I was a filly, Mom would tell me the same story every night before going to sleep: when he first held me in his hooves, Daddy kissed me on the forehead and said that no matter what I did in life, whether it'd be Queen of the Crystal Empire or scrubbing outhouses with a toothbrush, it's our destiny, and destiny is what makes us, ponies, special.
Now of course, putting up flyers isn't exactly taking me from dusk 'till dawn. This led to downtime, and downtime led to boredom. Boredom led to two things: heading on over to the kitchens and listen to the elders blab on and on about how their "mother's grandmother" knew what life was like before King Sombra came to power, or I could read. Seeing as how the idea of far-fetched pipe dreams the weight of iron burdening my heart didn't appeal to me, I leaned more towards reading. There's benefits to reading, for sure. For one, it's a time-killer, and that's always a plus! Also, it made me (I guess) one of the better writers in the Crystal Empire, considering many have never even held a book in their life.
Many books are deemed "forbidden" to slaves, and are locked away in the Crystal Archives. It's ran by this kindly librarian named Agatha. From what I've heard, she's a member of the Council, though you couldn't tell by looking at her; one of the dead giveaways being that she's nice. Never a smirk on that old withered face of her's, but she's more than happy to occasionally slip me one of the more "not-so-restricted" books. Despite this, she always tells me to hide the cover when a guard passes by. I don't get why they're restricted, though. They're usually on things like "Advanced Barge Tactics," and the chronicles of a "Starswirl the Bearded," whoever that is. Agatha also gave me this blank book, saying that a crate the caravan had brought in this morning had a dud in it and I should keep it, use it as a personal log of some kind.
I guess that's it. My whole, unspectacular life summed up in just a few paragraphs. Good thing, too. I hear Dinner Bell!
-Faithful Merry
12th of August, Friday
There's a full moon tonight. 'How,' you may be asking, 'could you tell, Merry? The Fog always encloses the Empire after dark; there's no way you could really see it.' I knew because (as if there was one) we had a town meeting in the center.
After supper, the guardsponies herded us all like cattle into the center of town (which is where it's said that the Crystal Fair used to be held). They had the entire population surrounded, eyeing us while standing completely still like sentries in their pale crystal armor. Everypony was scared; terrified, even. They dared not to make it vocal, but you could tell just by looking into their fearful eyes: all were fixed on the King's balcony overlooking the empire. My heart was pounding at such a rate that I thought it'd explode. But what got me more was not the anxiety, but the sheer silence of the entire scenario.
It was dead silent. Not a sound was made. Throughout the mass gathering of slaves, there was not a shudder of breath, nor a clatter of shackles to be heard. Dead silent. Even the shadows and their listlessly churning winds swirling about the Empire seemed to be frozen in time.
Within the throngs of ponies, in the few glimpses where I dared veer away from the balcony above, I found my mother surrounded by her fellow coworkers in the street cleaning department; my heart warmed to the sight of her, knowing she was at least in the comfort of friends while awaiting this surely dreadful news.
And while we're on the subject, let me tell you about our great ruler: King Sombra is said by many to be the incarnate of Evil itself. Nopony knows where he came from, or who he really is. Theories on his rise to power are numerous. A more common belief actually relates to the Empire's former queen and her son's mysterious disappearance. Many say they were murdered in their sleep by a much younger King Sombra, and he usurped their throne through heavy infulence, with a few wilder theories believes him to be the prince corrupted by Dark Magic.
I choose not to believe in any such theories of how he came to power; I find it far more interesting that the public has not seen King Sombra in over a hundred years. He apparently never leaves his castle, and the only time he ever did was in the first couple years he ruled. No one even knows what he looks like, or they at least don't talk about it. Some are in firm belief that he's just a withered old pony, whose power is exaggerated by propaganda and lies to keep us in line. Others, including myself, think he uses a forbidden magic to remain young and fit. Some of my friends and I were once talking about this at lunch break. As we got more in-depth about it, they started leaning towards the idea that Sombra has been dead for years now, and that the Council has been running the Empire all along.
Whatever the case may be, it does not matter. We are still slaves living under the threat of an angry stallion fueled by an insatiable hankering for power. But a public announcement, waiting for him to finally come out and show his face to the world once more, were probably the most intense moments of my entire life.
After minutes of standing in an almost frozen stillness, the doors at the balcony finally snapped open; my heart dropped to the deepest pits of my stomach to the sound of those double doors' abrupt unlatching; a few of the crystal fillies to my right trembled when they slammed against the railing with a resounding 'smack.'.
My mind suffered for having to wait seconds later in choked anticipation for this colossus of a guardspony to emerge from the tower. His eyes, shrouded by the darkness of his helm, were like little green beetles from his perch. His gaze dragged over the crowd in such a way that, for a moment, I thought he'd pick out a random pony for execution just out of spite. When they passed over me, my anxiety felt like it reached its climax and nearly resulted in me losing my supper.
"Attention!" he boomed; his words rang like gongs in my ears; how he was so loud, I did not know. Though there were a few, the ponies whose bodies wracked with fear immediately stood at attention.
"Our great ruler, King Sombra, has established his desire for a new steward." I lump of iron felt hitched in my throat; the rest of my fellow slaves handled this news like it was a terrible plague. The sheer magnitude of it made it impossible for a few whispers not to be floating about the throngs of slaves, which the guard simply shouted over. "Before midnight of this coming Sunday, all mares between the age of fifteen and twenty-five are required to submit their name to their local District Leader!" Upon hearing this, every mare including myself began to frantically scramble through the crowds in search of their family and loved ones.
I managed to navigate my mother and fall into a hug before the guard yelled, "SILENCE!" Just like that, the frozen silence fell over the crowd once more, as if we were trained dogs. "Any who fail to do so will face a most excruciating death. Our great lord would like to assure all of you that the benefits of being his steward are most grand, such as access to warm showers, filling meals, quality beds, and most importantly of all, a great service to your mighty empire!"
Several heads perked up as the guard listed these benefits, including mine when he said "quality beds." In my mind, that's a huge step-up from the slab of crystal us slaves are forced to rest on every night.
The guard reached into one of his armor pockets and pulled out a sheet of crumpled paper. From it he read, "King Sombra is looking for a slave that is capable of (but not limited to): reading, writing, carrying books and parchment over great distances, speaking and tending to their lord's needs. Be sure to submit your names before the midnight of this coming Sunday, or the consequences will be dire. This announcement has concluded. All hail the Empire!"
"All hail the Empire!" we echoed; the false pride in our cries was obvious.
And now I'm here, in my home, under my covers and using my slab of a bed as a makeshift table. I'd be branded a lunatic if I told you I wasn't terrified. Mother fears that I'll get picked to become King Sombra's steward. Despite being scared out of my mind, I assured her that the chances of me getting picked are low, considering how many ponies in my age bracket there are. Still, I worry she'll just have my sister if I somehow do get picked.
I submitted my name the moment I got home. When handing it to Light Bright, the Disctrict Leader of Crystal Berry Lane, he said to me that there's no use in worrying over it, and that only time will tell.
It seemed to me like sound advice. I told my sister, who is also in the age bracket, as she is twenty-four. It seemed to have calmed her down, always being the reasonable type.
I've tried telling that to myself. For the past hour or so, that's all that's been reeling through my mind: "There's no use in worrying over it. Only time will tell." I could say it a million more times, but it wouldn't change anything. There's still a good chance that I'll become the next Crystal Steward, just like everypony else.
-Faithful Merry
