Autobiography of Sir Pommel in The Times of Ancient Crystal Empire

by The Sound of Loneliness

Rating: teen
Tags: King Sombra, Crystal Ponies, Adventure, Slice of Life, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3321

An old, noble stallion writes about his life before the Crystal Empire's disappearence.

Sir Iron Pommel, Knight of The Crystal Court, son of the noble house Silverlight, brother of the Duke of Icebay and friend to Prince, and later King, Sombra of The Crystal Empire, writes about his youth and years preceding the disappearance of The Crystal Empire.

Edited by Liquid Ink, the former Royal Librarian in Cantrelot.

Published by the Equestrian Royal Publishing, 1006AB.

[Cover art by My Little Epona]

Published 2021-03-24 22:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-24 22:20:01 UTC

Chapter 1: My Childhood

My childhood was one of the less exciting parts of my life, I suppose. Sadly, I don't remember too much since it was sixty years ago. I was born in the house of Sir Steel Anchor, a Captain in the Imperial Fleet. I can almost feel your questioning look on these pages, but believe it or not, the Crystal Empire used to be a major maritime nation before its disappearance. My own home city was a port on the eastern coast, a bit more north from where the contemporary Vanhoover is now, I believe. It was called Icebay. Hardly original, but you need to remember that that was a city of sailors, hardly the most creative of ponies as you may imagine.

My father, however, was hardly like that. My father was the youngest son of the House Silverlight, a noble family from the capital. How did my father eventually land in Icebay he never said, but I would have to conclude that his older brothers simply received all the family inheritance, if not anything worse. Regardless of the circumstance, my father was sent to study at the Naval Academy at Crystal City and before long he made it as the second officer on board a Navy warship. "White Blur" the name was, as I recall. Eventually, he managed to rise through ranks until the previous captain retired and the ship was his to command. All the while he also managed to save up a small fortune to build a house in the port where his ship was based.

He eventually married a noble lady, Archduke Slip Slide's oldest daughter, no less. Flowenna, the mare I was supposed to call my mother, was a wonderful lady indeed and my father already had one foal with her before my birth - my older brother Steward. The time for me to speak of him will come later.

After Steward was born, the time soon came for me. My year of birth was 1387 by the old counting system. At the time, my father had an affair during one of his naval patrols. Who exactly my mother was, he never said, but he did bring me home with him. Lady Flowenna was furious in no time the whole city was abuzz with rumors. The family's reputation never quite recovered even with all the help from our capital relatives. If I may permit myself a moment of vain humor, you may say that I already achieved more in my infancy than some achieve in their lifetime: I ruined a noble family's reputation.
Of course, my mother-in-name treated me accordingly, but who could blame her? My father quite literally brought his infidelity into her home. Eventually, she did find the strength to forgive him, and me by extension, but my youngest years were far from easy. Though my father disgraced himself, he did recognize me as one of his heirs. Although there was not too much to inherit after my older half-brother.

My earliest memories include me and Steward playing together in the yard of our house. He was only a few years older than me and we played frequently when we both were little. Our yard was less of a garden, as the common trend might suggest, and more of an extension of the house. In summer it was like a larger common room, the family routinely sitting by the large oak growing there and exercising. This is where my father taught my brother and me to hold a weapon.
On that day I was sitting by the same oak and trying to collect bark pieces to then, hopefully, make something of it later in my room. All of my findings on the ground were wet and broke easily, so instead, I tried to tear a piece of the bark of the stump itself. I was just over a year old, so I had little success at nipping at the mighty tree (Look at page 3 of the illustrations book). The tree in our yard was mighty indeed, I think my father once mentioned it being there before he first came to the city and it already was mighty. And there was me, a tiny colt, trying to tear at its bark. I saw stone turned masonry around me, metal made into door hinges and knobs, how would a piece of bark stand against me?

My brother then looked at my struggles, smiled and said: "You aren't doing it right." Steward then picked up a sharp stone and tried to pick at a tiny opening in the bark, I watched intently at my older brother trying to wrestle out a prize from the stubborn tree, yet it didn't yield. "Maybe you aren't doing it right too?" I asked in childish naivety. Steward glared at me. I didn't understand what did I do to upset him at the time, as I only said what I thought we both just saw, but as I recall it now, this is one of the most important lessons I learned in my life. Sometimes insurmountable obstacles only frustrate a pony instead of stoping them. As the tree continued enduring assaults over the years, I have begun to see the same pattern everywhere. When Father was trying to fix Steward's kaleidoscope, he only got angrier and tried harder. When my adoptive mother saw one of the servants doing a poor job, she sometimes grew dissatisfied enough to do their job herself, even though a noble lady was not supposed to do a common pony's work. When I grew older, I also noticed that the servants in our house lacked the same attitude. When they failed at their tasks, they did not try harder, unless my parents made them. That is how I first learned about the fundamental difference between the different ponies and creatures in the world.

Another important thing I learned at an early age would be our faith, although, in a less independent manner. It may sound entirely archaic to you, but over a thousand years ago faith in gods and goddesses was quite prevalent and even considered a necessity. The Crystal Empire had only one god, however. It was considered a novelty at the time to have only one god to command everything, rather authoritarian. We did, however, believe in others having their own gods. Equestria, for example, quite obviously had the divine twins, as alien as this may look to the modern reader. Our god had a name, or so we were told. Their actual name was a secret of the church. To the rest of us, they had no name, but they were our patron deity.*
One day, my time to be brought to the knowledge of our deity has come. Traditionally, it was conducted on the Day of Recollection, one of the few holidays that our church recognized. The Day of Recollection is the day we were supposed to lay down all work, remember our past and make plans for the future. It was said that on this day our god first gave us their patronage.
My parents sat me down in the dining room, next to Steward. This was not usually allowed, as in the family's unspoken hierarchy, I was at the lowest. But on this day, there was an exception. (See page 4 of the illustrations book.)
A servant, dressed festively, then carried in a casket, covered by a lid, and set it down carefully on the table. She then took the lid off and let the air out. The room was quickly filling with the sweet scent of burning incense**. My family sat in complete silence all the while. Shortly after, I felt my thoughts starting to wander, there was something about this holiday in the end, I believe. Twenty minutes later, came the time to make our convictions and prayers. Steward next to me said that he would've liked to study law, I recognized him simply saying something our parents wished to hear. Nonetheless, Steward has been receiving tutors since.
What I said myself is quite hazy now, but I reckon it would be something to do with becoming stronger in some way. Unlike Steward, I always had less appreciation for subtle things in life,

**It was believed to be that the air could bring blesses or curses and it was custom to scent it for festive occasions.

it must be a trait of my birth mother. My father in front of me nodded with a sigh, while my mother frowned.

Later, as I was let back into my room and I sat, playing with my metal figurines, my father came to me and then asked if I enjoyed the holiday. I said that it was quite boring. My father's visage turned darker, and he asked me to try and not to show this around my mother. I gave him a queer look, but I promised to be good around her on holidays. At the time I, of course, did not understand what was the meaning of our interaction, but later I discovered that in my mother's family, it was customary to venerate the holidays much more rigidly than it was in ours, and it did not bode well for any of us to slack under her sight...

As both my older brother and I were growing up and more of the world was becoming understandable to us, we started expressing our interests in more ways than simply playing. Steward, in between his studies, has found a liking to painting; whilst when the time has come to start my studies, I became an avid reader. I imagine my father smiled, frequently finding me asleep deep at night on the library table loaded with books of all sizes. I spent many days of my young years reading through endless pages, following the many heroes to their end goals, much to the displeasure of my mother. She believed I had to spend my time studying more instead. I suppose she had everyone's best in her mind, but at the time I couldn't agree less. When my father was out on a voyage, I would have a round of house cleaning assigned whenever she caught me in the library. "Yours is nought a place amongst fantasies!" she used to say in her characteristically flamboyant way, she never quite stopped believing herself being better than this city.
My mother always loathed Icebay, she always wanted Father to take his promotion to admiral and be assigned to desk work in the capital. I cannot say I can blame her, every provincial noble wants to someday live in the capital, as the years went by my mother's distaste for the very air, smelling of salt, became overbearing. When it was my time to depart for schooling, she was starting to slip into outright anger at my father's unwillingness to abandon his seafaring life, my mother was not used to anyone saying "no" to her. But there were still a few years before that.

One day the house was abuzz with activity. Servants scrubbing the house to gleam, cooks busy all day in the kitchen, and Mother grooms our manes and straightens our best clothes to look the most presentable. The pressure could be felt in the air as tangible as mist would be. From the very morning, we were drilled again and again on what to say and how to act in the evening, for we had a guest. My grandfather*** was coming for a visit.
For my grandfather to even abandon the illustrious, gleaming city was already an event, but for him to come to some dirty, backwards port city was outright unheard of. My mother wanted to make the best impression on our most noble relatives. I, specifically, was instructed to not speak to him unless spoken to. I, of course, was outraged, because Steward was given no such instruction. My mother only slapped me on the cheek and hissed her command again, I dared not to question again. Steward, all the while didn't say anything either. He was older than me and was taught the importance of etiquette.

As the evening approached, it became obvious that the rest of the city was preparing as well. The streets were hastily cleaned and cobbles were added where they were missing on the road. I was not old enough to go walking yet, thus this was the dawning moment for me as to how much influence my family truly had in Icebay. My father may have been an ordinary captain, of which there were dozens in the city, but our family was the noblest by far. He often had visitors, which he spent long times within his private study on the second floor. I was only allowed inside on special occasions and if I was caught around it when my father was receiving a guest, I risked a punishment. Now it was making sense as to why. My family's most powerful asset was its reputation, rather than anything physical. The reputation I was a stain on.

Our noble guest arrived exactly five past six, deliberately being late for just a little late. Such was the highborn etiquette, to always show those of lower station their place. I, Steward and our mother, all were lined out with our seniority in mind, at the house' entrance, just behind the fencing. My father, instead, stood by the gates, waiting for the elaborate and lavish coach to roll before him. The coach was pulled by two, finely dressed guardsponies, each bearing each a slim sword. When they finally stopped, my father stepped closer and opened the door. He then respectfully bowed his head and stood aside, allowing our guest the space to come out.
My grandfather was an imposing persona even in his venerable age of nearly eighty-six years at the time. He stood nearly a head taller than my father, even when he wasn't submissively bowing his head to the cobblestone at his hooves. His mane and moustache were carefully cut and styled. His eyes were as cold and grey as the stone around. He was dressed in a finely stitched tailcoat and his hooves were snuggly fit in glistering shoes of polished and greased leather with shinning silver buckles stitched to them. My father attempted to help him out of his ride, but the venerable stallion indignantly pushed him away and stepped on the road himself. He eyed our house, street and, finally, us with the same disinterested look to his eyes, before finally resolving to look closely at me and Steward specifically. His look was now deeply evaluating as if he was looking at a jewel. Mother specifically instructed me to not stare back and I obediently lowered my eyes, while Steward continued to look straightly - he was allowed to.

My father soon invited Grandfather inside and the old stallion obliged him. His look was unimpressed as he scanned the house with barely restrained contempt. Grandfather did not speak much during the supper, he politely ate his salad and drank the wine, occasionally doing small-talk with my parents. As soon as etiquette permitted him, he asked my father to his study, to talk in private. The rest of us had to quietly sit at the table, waiting to be dismissed, hoping that we did not do anything to displease our glorious relative that he would not convey to our father to punish us later for. Or even worse, that he would not disown us.
Common ponies believe that noble birth grants an easy lot in life. It is true that it indeed affords us better food and dwellings, but we hardly have it easy, it is simply that our struggles are not with famine or diseases, but of sentient nature. Noble gatherings, resolving matters of the realm, can be just as cut-throat as a backstreet gangs' deal. Perhaps it is even was for the better that the majority did not realize the kind of thugs hiding behind the gilded mansion doors at times.

Father soon returned with Grandfather beside him. Grim in the face, as a sailor would be, he
announced that Steward would be leaving tomorrow with Grandfather for the capital to be enrolled in the noble boarding school. We took the news with little outward reaction, for we were drilled to always remain dignified, but tiny looks each of us gave to Steward was more than enough to discern that none of us enjoyed the arrangement least of all - our mother.

*The said deity’s name is recorded as “Maruk” in Canterlot royal archives, sadly the source for the moment is lost.
**It was believed to be that the air could bring blessings or curses, and it was custom to scent it for festive occasions.
***Sir Pommel doesn't mention this, but his grandfather's name is Brightlance. A former governor of the northern Crystal Plateau region, no less.

Foreword

Greetings to you, sirs and ladies, and allow me to humbly welcome you to the “Autobiography of Sir Pommel in The Times of Ancient Crystal Empire.” I am, as you may have guessed, Sir Pommel. He insisted on naming it so, although what we have in our hooves is clearly a memoir, rather than a more... let's say rigid, autobiography, see. Therefore, do not get confused, this is not a document, but rather a literary work.

Before we go on to my tale itself, I would like to clarify a few things. Firstly, a remark to those prudent enough to notice such details, I would have you know that at this day and age we do speak a rather different tongue from what was common in the days of my youth. I pity my editors here, as they would have much work rendering my writing into the modern speech for it to be more recognizable to you, readers. However, I specifically requested that some of the ponies I quote stay unedited. It is quite important that nothing is lost in transition, see.
Another thing you may or may not be aware of is that a thousand years ago there was a different dating system. The modern system begins with the Banishment of Nightmare Moon, while the old system was counting from the unification of the ancient pony tribes. The system was very much in use in the contemporary Crystal Empire. Consequently, the year of Nightmare Moon’s banishment would be the year 1487.
I suspect you would be also keenly aware that some of the locations I shall name further on may no longer exist. In modern times only Crystal City exists, but previously “Crystal Empire” was just that, an empire. My own homecity, sadly, no longer seems to be where I remember it was. Reasons for that I do not know. Perhaps the curse did not return the other cities, perhaps they were swept away by centuries of wind and snow. Sadly, my other contemporaries seem to have a rather fuzzy memory from the times before and my own account would be one of the last memories of the land that was.
Finally, I shall bid you good greeting and farewell, although I am sure my editor would have more to say.

As Sir Pommel suggests, I do, indeed, have something to say. Firstly, I would like to express my condolences to all late friends of Sir Pommel. This remarkable stallion has sadly, and unexpectedly, passed away a year before his book’s publication. Sir Pommel was working on an illustrations book to go with his work, sadly he wasn’t able to finish it in time. Sir Pommel constantly refers to his illustrations but he also has vivid descriptions to go with some of the pictures. With this, I join Sir Pommel and express my hope that you would find this, most remarkable, life story to your liking as have I.