A Measure of History

Slowly, with the timidity and hesitance of a mouse in unfamiliarity, cool, golden rays shined through the layered blinds of the window, casting an arrayed pattern of feeble light and shadow across the room. The sun’s early light flittered into a pair of eyes and, with a low, nearly inaudible groan, a mound of flesh and tattered clothing arose, its hands gently rubbing its face.

James Volker took a moment to stretch out his arms, enjoying the seldom-appreciated wonder of loosened tension. His once taut joints and muscles now relaxed, the man stood up, walked tiredly to the window, and with a tender pull of his fingers, the blinds shifted slightly, revealing what lay outside.

The town was still asleep, for the most part. The sun, weak and faint, was only just beginning its rise—James estimated that, if Equestria’s time and orbit worked similarly to Earth’s, dawn would arrive in two, perhaps three hours. Pale rays of light wavered across the horizon, like bronze tendrils weakly grasping at the earth.

That was, however, of no matter to James. Since his days in uniform, he had always been an early bird, rising well before any of his peers and colleagues in the morning. James was a man of routine, and woe to those who would disrupt his austere regimen. Unfortunately, James had no idea who—or what—could have brought him to this land of technicolor palettes and cartoonish equines. Nor, regrettably, did he have any way, whatsoever, of taking his revenge on that unknown being.

And that, once more, brought James back to his dilemma. For, what really had happened? It was clear at this point that he was not in a dream, or a nightmare for that matter. Sleep had taken him easily, and James had dreamt of his early childhood. A time of play, and a time of blithe joy and wonder, where the world was his playground, his own jungle to swing through. Like Tarzan.

That had, of course, been before his jagged transition into a… problem child, as some had gently put it.

But the actuality of his dreams, and the palpable tangibility and corporeality of this new world, proved to him the inherent reality of his situation. For, unless he was dreaming within a dream—and that brought with it the labyrinthine issues and problems paralleling a certain film he had seen some years before—it was clear that James had been plopped, rather unceremoniously, into a new existence.

James groaned, holding his head in his hands. ‘All this thinking gives me a headache,’ he thought, stepping away from the window.

Of course, he could not simply erase the fact of his crisis, but he could choose to ignore it altogether.

Yes. That seemed like a good idea. He would simply live his life as best he could, given his circumstances. He nodded his head, smiling slightly. It had been his first decision in this new world, and though it was a minor one, of little to no impact or influence, James welcomed the ability to grasp ahold of his life and control it, once more.

He would celebrate the small victories, as it were.

Turning away from the window, James quietly crept out of the room granted to him. It was early enough that his host, Twilight, and her dragon assistant, Spike, would still be asleep, and he, by no means, wished to rouse them from their slumber. Neither, unfortunately, could James embark upon his daily morning ritual; he had always appreciated a good, long run before starting his days, but the manner of his existence, and the ponies’ general unawareness of the man, prohibited such an exercise.

A pity, since, as short a time he had been in this world, James had already decided that he relished Equestria’s fresh, invigorating air—a far cry from that of Earth.

In the meantime, however, James elected to pass the time by other, more passive means—perhaps reading. This was a library, after all, and it would be well advised to study the nature of Equestria. Smiling to himself, James perused Twilight’s collection of bookshelves, his eyes meandering all over the spines. He elected to search for a book that might arouse his interest. History, for example, was a subject he enjoyed, as shown by his career. Or maybe a novel on magic—a subject that very much indeed kindled a slight fire, deep within him.

Or, perhaps, a combination of both, and James raised his eyebrows in fascination as he withdrew a particular book from its shelf. Resisting the urge to whistle a low, merry tune, James took the book to a nearby seat, whereupon he sat, shifting this way and that way in an attempt to get comfortable in the unfavorably small chair.

It had been some hours later when a series of footsteps—hoofsteps, rather—grasped James’ attention, and he looked up from the book he held in his hands. He raised an eyebrow, watching as his host descended down a set of stairs. James gave a light smile, noticing the mare’s general state of dishevelment. Her mane looked like a wild bush, strands of lavender hair branching this way and that way, and her eyes drooped ever so slightly, an undercurrent of fatigue resonating from her form.

Giving a low chuckle, James turned back to the book, making note of his page before closing it altogether. Hearing the hoofsteps approach, James looked up, a warm, if unsure, smile upon his mouth.

“Good morning, Twilight. Have a good night’s sleep?”

Twilight frowned down at James, confusion evident in her expression. “James? It’s eight o'clock, how long have you been awake?”

“Oh, about three hours or so, give or take a few minutes,” he responded, holding up the book. “I haven’t been doing much in the meantime, but I’ve gotta say, this whole ‘magic’ business is pretty interesting.” He grimaced, putting the tome down on the table in front of him. “Even if I don’t understand a word this ‘Emerald Dream’ guy is saying about it.”

The mare squinted her eyes, glazing over the title of the novel, before raising an eyebrow at James. “’Basic Arcanum for Fledgling Fillies?’ James, that’s a textbook meant for unicorn foals.”

“Foals? Oh…”

Twilight grinned, a slight glint in her eyes as she drew closer to James. “James, are you interested in magic?”

The man leaned back, his feelings ambivalent. “Uh, sure? Yeah, the subject kinda… piques my interest.”

Twilight nodded happily, stepping back from James. “That’s fantastic! We can go over that later today. Though, James?”

“Yes, Twilight?”

“Do humans not have magic?” she asked, tilting her head. “You asked me about it earlier, back at Fluttershy’s cottage. You seem unfamiliar with the concept.”

James chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, Twilight. Though, back on Earth, we’ve made some things with technology that might as well be magic.”

Twilight nodded, showing interest, but turned away, her horn glowing alight. A quill and a piece of paper promptly floated to her, encapsulated in lavender sheens. “Well, you can tell me all about it this afternoon, because I’d love to continue this conversation. Spike should be waking up soon, so we’ll have breakfast and start our trip to Rarity’s boutique. Does that sound good to you—“

Suddenly, a wild series of bangs interrupted Twilight, sounding much like somepony was hammering down the door. The quill and paper fell from Twilight’s grasp, the unicorn evidently startled.

“Coming, just a sec!” Twilight trotted towards the door, swinging it open. Before her stood a mint-green unicorn, her amber eyes almost feral in appearance. She bared her glinting teeth, and James briefly caught a glimpse of a lyre upon her flank before Twilight blocked his view.

“Lyra?” Twilight asked, taking a step backwards in shock and mild fear. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

The unicorn, Lyra, attempted unsuccessfully to push past Twilight. She leaned this way and that way, trying to look inside the tree-house. “I know you have him here, Twilight! I know you’re keeping him here, I just wanna see him!”

“Who, Lyra? What’s got you all riled up?”

Lyra looked up at Twilight, her expression incredulous. “The human, Twilight! I saw you take him here yesterday, I know you’ve got him in there! Can I just see him?”

Slowly, silently, James rose from his unfortunately small seat, backing away into the kitchen in an effort to retreat. Though he had only caught a glance, James somewhat recognized the mint-coated mare, thoughts of carnivorous horses swelling within the confines of his mind. As he withdrew, however, his foot caught on the leg of a table, and James fell to the ground, grunting loudly in pain.

“There he is!” Lyra exclaimed, having heard James fall. She pushed past Twilight, knocking the poor mare to the ground in her rush towards James' fallen body.

He attempted to scramble away from the seemingly insane unicorn, frantically clambering backwards. Lyra, however, was much too fast, rapidly closing the distance between them. She came to a stop over James, and her eyes widened, ostensibly staring into James’ soul as the hardened marine veteran cowered.

“Wow…” Lyra mumbled, her gaze meandering all over James’ form. “A real, live human… I never would have thought…”

James gave a pained cringe, looking as if he were trying to sink below the ground. “Please stop,” he muttered, apprehension gripping at the human. What, exactly, was this psychotic pony trying to do?

“Stop?” she murmured, locked in a trance. “But I haven’t even started...”

Suddenly, the unicorn was pulled back. She gave an alarmed cry, a force tugging on her. Lyra whipped around, scouring the library for the one who had interrupted her. Her gaze fell upon a tan pony, her mane a duality of fuchsia and blue.

“Lyra!” the newcomer shouted accusingly, her hoof clamped upon Lyra’s tail. “Leave that…thing alone!”

Lyra gave a sullen pout, her eyes narrowing. “But Bon Bon, it’s a human! Don’t you see? A real, living human!” She turned back to James, her pupils showing her absolute delight. “I’ve been looking for one for so long!”

“Enough with that human talk, Lyra, can’t you see you’ve hurt poor Twilight? C’mon, let’s go, Lyra.”

“But—” Lyra attempted to protest, struggling against her friend’s grip.

“Now, Lyra,” Bon Bon pulled on her friend, slowly dragging her away from James’ frightened form. James watched as the two mares left through the still open door, his mouth gaping wide open in shock and confusion. Then, his eyes shifted towards Twilight, grumbling and groaning whilst she picked herself up from the floor.

“Twilight, you alright?” he asked, slowly rising himself. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, holding a hoof to her horn as stars swirled in her eyes. “Ye-yeah, I think I’m okay. I feel like a train hit me, though. Geez...”

“What was the deal with all of that?” James asked, his vision quite stuck to Twilight’s oaken door, as if he were afraid the seemingly insane mare—Lyra, her name was—would burst in once more, her teeth bared and her eyes a frenzied bronze.

Twilight, too, looked back at the door, her thoughts confused and muddled. “I’m… not quite sure myself, James. We’ve always known Lyra to be a bit strange, but I’ve never seen her like that before.”

“You’re not all like her, right?” James queried worriedly. “Ponies, I mean. You’re not all insane?”

The unicorn giggled, though Lyra’s behavior stuck to the back of her mind. “No, of course not, James. Lyra isn’t usually like that either, but… well, I don’t know. Anyways, Spike should be waking up soon, so we’ll have breakfast first and then get ready for our trip.”

James nodded his head, his stomach growling at the anticipation of food. He was quite hungry, yes, but… he had a feeling his current thoughts of flesh-eating, mint-colored pony-lunatics would keep his appetite in check.

“Would you please stand still?”

“Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, dear, just be still. In fact, just shut up and let me take your measurements.”

James fought the urge to nod, gulping down a globule of saliva as he stood in a manner much akin to a ramrod. In the corner of his vision, he could see Twilight struggling to keep quiet, small giggles trickling out of her mouth. To his front, the pearly-white unicorn he had met the night before held a tape measure all over his body. She hummed a low, graceful tune, occasionally muttering muted strings of words and numbers.

In fact, everything about the mare, Rarity, screamed “elegance,” “beauty,” and “grace.” She worked tirelessly, flowing around him like a comely ribbon of silk and lace. Yet, James’ thoughts returned to the matter of what lay outside her boutique—Ponyville, in its entirety, foreign and alien to him.

But was he not the alien himself? It was clear that the equine denizens of this country were completely unfamiliar with the likes of James, and their apprehension at the appearance of such a creature was easily discernible when he had toured the town. Waves of trepidation and cautious interest had rolled over him, and James was quite sure that if he had not been with Twilight at the time, most ponies would have fled at the sight of him.

A timid lot, to be sure, but James could not blame them.

“All finished!” Rarity’s cheerful exclamation interrupted James’ thoughts, and he looked down, his limbs and joints relaxing.

“You’re all done? Anything else you need, miss?”

The unicorn shook her head, her smile glowing. “Nope, not at all, dear. But, if I may, I do have a question. Well, more of a puzzled inquiry, to be sure.” James nodded, gesturing for Rarity to proceed.

“How exactly, dear, did you ruin such a fine suit in such a way?” Rarity seemed to demand, her hooves grasping onto James’ tattered clothing. She held it close to her eye, examining the once-fine fabric. “These clothes are very well made, I can tell, and several parts of them honestly intrigue me, but how on Equus have you managed to destroy such fine apparel?”

James shrugged in response, a frown etched onto his face. “Long story, miss, and it ties into how I got here. Which, I still have no idea how I ended up in… Equus, in the first place.”

“Oh, please, call me Rarity. But, if that is the case, may I request that, when I am finished with the clothes I’ll make you, can I keep the remains of your current dress?” she asked, her hoofs still gripping James’ suit. “I would definitely like to investigate some parts of your suit—the fabrics, for example, are so exotic, and this little piece of… brass? Gold? This is most interesting…”

With a pained grimace, James grabbed onto Rarity’s hoof and moved it away. “That’s a zipper, Rarity.”

“Oh, a zipper, is that what it’s called?” Rarity gleefully said, turning away from James. “Well, I guess we’re done here, so you’re free to go. Thank you for bringing him, Twilight. This encounter has brought some fascinating developments to mind…”

Twilight approached James from the side, a pleasant grin on her face. “Oh, no problem, Rarity! I’m happy to help.” She looked up at James, tilting her head towards the door of the boutique. “Alright, James, are you ready to head back to the library?”

James nodded, showing his affirmation. The pair left Carousel Boutique, the elegant tone of Rarity’s voice following them out the door as she sang a particular song. James simply elected to follow Twilight, hoping that their course would bring him before as few ponies as possible.

Of course, Ponyville was as bustling as it could ever be, crowds of ponies flowing this way and that way as the sun hung high above them in the sky. The unusual duo passed through the marketplace, and the independent streams of citizens diverged around them, giving the two ample space to maneuver, and James could feel their piercing stares, the mixed feelings of curiosity, fear, apprehension, and uncertainty assuredly discernible in the air. For his own sake, James drew closer to Twilight, in hopes that he could blend in.

“What’s wrong, James?” Twilight asked, having felt James’ slight bump and touch. “You seem a bit agitated. Are you okay?”

James slowly nodded, trying his best to avert his gaze from the kaleidoscope of miniature horses around him. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it seems a lot of these ponies are staring at me. It’s unnerving.”

Twilight giggled, waving towards a particular cherry-colored mare, a trio of flowers on her flank. “Well, that’s to be expected. You are new to Ponyville—no, Equestria, after all, and nobody has ever really seen anypony—anyone like you before.” She stopped briefly, turning to face James with a reassuring expression. “I’m sure that, with time, everypony will get used to you, You might just make some friends!”

“One would hope,” James replied. His gaze was shifted to the side, locked onto a familiar pony approaching the two. “Looks like our first contestant is arriving.”

Twilight turned to see who he was looking at. “Hey, Bon Bon. How’s it going?”

The pony in question frowned, her eyes flicking between Twilight and James as if she were unsure what to say. “It’s going alright, Twilight. But, I just wanted to apologize, for earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Bon Bon began, turning to look behind her. “It’s more on behalf of Lyra, since she, you know, busted into your house and knocked you down, and all. I’m sorry she acted like that, I really don’t know what’s gotten into her!”

Twilight laughed, waving a hoof to the side. “Oh, it’s fine, Bon Bon. I’m not hurt or anything, and I could tell Lyra was really excited.”

Bon Bon nodded, though she still beheld a troubled look. “That’s good. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” She looked back at James, an eyebrow raised. “Say, Twilight, who’s your big friend here? I’ve never seen anypony like him before.”

“Oh, that’s James. He’s a…” Twilight trailed off, watching for James reaction.

“It’s fine, Twilight,” James nodded, turning to Bon Bon. “Nice to meet you, Bon Bon.”

“He’s a human, Bon Bon,” Twilight continued, and Bon Bon’s expression slowly grew into that of understanding. “How he got here is… complicated, to say the least.”

Bon Bon looked away, scratching her head with a hoof. “Oh, well that must be why Lyra was so excited. No wonder…” she looked back at the two, a smile having returned to her mouth. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, James. Have a good one, you two!”

Twilight waved goodbye, an expectant expression upon her face as she turned back to James. “See? I told you you’d make friends in no time.”

James simply shrugged, quietly following Twilight back to her tree home.

The room was quiet, shadows lining the walls. A singular candle glowed weakly in the darkness, and the scent of old parchment, vellum, and wax perspirated the musty air, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling like ancient tapestries of woven silk. A single figure, tenebrous and dim, stood within, the tip of her horn glowing a cool, fresh green light. An attentive smile hung upon her mouth, and she slowly approached a stack of books, dust and soot layered upon them.

Lyra Heartstrings picked up one of the stacked tomes, a hoof brushing the dirt and grime off the cover. Her mind was on a mission, and her eyes absorbed the novel’s title, the runes primeval and archaic.

The Desolation of the Har’yagul.

This was, indeed, a book that Lyra, by all respects, should not have access to—in fact, one might call it illegal. Heavens above, if the princess—princesses, for that matter, found out that she, an innocent resident of Ponyville, bore access to such an opus, Lyra would surely be punished, in some way or form. However, her job, as one of Royal Archivists of Canterlot, had made Lyra privy to the knowledge laid within such forbidden novels that even Celestia herself did not know—or, perhaps, even remember—existed within the deep, dark confines of Canterlot’s Grand Archives.

Lyra had, in her ill-planned pursuits of knowledge, smuggled many a tome and book from the deepest, most esoteric sections of the Grand Archives, besides the Starswirl sections. Most of the novels were ancient, yet either useless or impossible to read or understand. Yet, some had sparked her curiosity, her flame for erudition and revelation. Having read through most of the novels, a great interest in humans had been reaped, the disclosure of an entire race that her benevolent ruler had seen fit to erase from history, for some reason or other.

And Lyra, for so long, had hunted for more, even more, tidbits of information on the species. She had even created an archive of her own, below the floors of the home she shared with her close friend, Bon Bon. Sweetie Drops, or, as most of Ponyville liked to call her, Bon Bon, was the only pony who even knew about her special room, and she had swore not to spread word of such a location, if only for Lyra’s own privacy. But Bon Bon did not share Lyra’s interest in the humans, and even scoffed at such an ideal, seeing Lyra’s efforts to be those of hopelessness, misdirection, and countless impasses.

Lyra’s thoughts were suddenly brought to a halt as, while her hooves glazed over the varied covers and spines of her secret books, she found something to be out of place… or, perhaps, even… missing.

“Oh, buck,” Lyra whispered, her eyes widening as she began a frantic search. Volumes of the Har’yagul and mystic dissertations on the occult arcane of the ancient humans fell like the foregone Lighthouse of Coltandria of yore, and Lyra foraged through them with an agitated panic.

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” Lyra finally stopped, sitting back on her haunches as she slapped a mint-green hoof upon her muzzle. “I left it back in Canterlot, didn’t I? Oh, bucking buck!”

What if somepony found the missing book? The one that, if fallen into the wrong hooves, could become the catalyst for so much danger? The one that dictated heavily, so heavily, upon the legions of spells, sorceries, and miracles that the ancient humans of Har’yagul utilized, or even their malignant curses and vicious hexes? Magic that had once threatened the topple of Equestria so long ago, in the past? Why that particular book, and not some other, useless one?

Lyra wringed her hooves into her eyes, tears threatening to spill out as she moaned in frustration. “I’m so bucked…”