Hyperbole walked alone down the cobblestone road. The rhythmic clippity-clop of his hooves was muted by the torrential downpour. He had been on his way to fix a tear in his saddlebag when the rain had started. The pitter-patter that soon changed to a waterfall; the waterfall that mercilessly soaked all he was carrying.
"But really, should I expect anything else?," Hyperbole grumbled to himself. “I never seem to have any luck when I actually need it."
He harrumphed once through his nostrils before making a sharp left turn and approaching his house. It was a mangy looking thing, with its upper windows boarded up and the lower ones all dusty. The decrepit outside was not preferred by the stallion, however, it was all he could afford at the moment.
Pointlessly, he brushed his hooves on the faded 'welcome' mat and opened the front door. He was met by a gloomy interior, furnished with a tatty looking, overstuffed couch, a dusty countertop, and a battered study-desk. Throwing his saddlebag to the ground, he opened the flaps with a minor levitation spell and pulled out its contents.
As he assessed the damage that had been done, he let out a slight breath of relief. Most of the water had been absorbed by his handkerchief, leaving the history book, his treasured fountain pen, and his writer’s journal mostly unscathed. After placing his handkerchief on a nearby dish-rack to dry, he proceeded to float the rest of the items to his study-desk.
With that out of the way he cantered over to the mostly-empty liquor fridge and pulled out some cheap brandy. Not minding to take a glass, the unicorn brought the whole bottle over and placed it beside him as he sat down with a grunt at his desk chair. He picked up his favourite pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and then placed the loaded writing utensil to a fresh piece of paper.
Instead of writing, however, he simply stared blankly out the window, as if searching for inspiration somewhere along the grimy peaks of the neighbouring, whitewashed houses. Slowly, any amount of anticipation he might’ve had faded. He took a long swig from the bottle of brandy and sighed as the liquid burnt the back of his throat. Was this all his life was going to be composed of? Rainy days, cheap alcohol, and fading inspiration? Yes. With a disappointed shake of his head, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. His reflection was caught in the skylight; a hollow shadow stared back.
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...This might as well be the last thing I write...
Princess Twilight Sparkle wrote, her graceful pen-strokes filling the room with a symphony of scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch.
...I have decided to create an almanac of sorts on the Elements of Harmony. I believe that by writing this, I am insuring a more secure, peaceful future for Equestria. Now that my dearest friends have passed on, I have realized that once again the empire is at the mercy of any prior villains, and new ones. Without a strong structure, a credo, per-say, to maintain the harmonic foundations of Equestria, I fear that things will revert back to how they were when Starswirl the Bearded first quested to find the Elements. I am already seeing the beginning of that dastardly spiral. However, I digress, simply due to the lack of time I am confronted with. I will attempt to share everything I have come to learn about harmony and maintaining peace, but know for certain that I will not be able to publish, as the rioters outside are keeping all communications severed. No one leaves, no one enters- but at least I have Spike. He will be sending you this letter, and if possible, my almanac. Again, I am very sceptical about actually finishing the thing, but if I do, I beg of you to publish my document and reestablish the balance that had tipped when the last of the element holders passed on.
Thank you,
Forever your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle
With an exasperated sigh, Twilight dropped the pen and handed the parchment to Spike. The letter had taken far more effort to write down than she had expected. From outside, the dim roaring of the angry mob came to the despairing princess. They were getting closer, but she still had at least a full day to make as much leeway as she could before...
"Twilight?" A cautious voice saved the princess from imagining her impending doom.
"Yes, Spike?" she responded, her jaw clenching at the injustice of it all.
He didn't deserve this, he should have never been dragged into her world of abhorrence.
"What's going on?" A good question, Twilights expression grew stoic.
"It's the circle, Spike, it's completing itself." She turned away from the dragon to look out her window. The heavy rain had done little to deter the rioters. "And all we are, are simple pawns in this perpetual game."
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“...The world be bigger, now that I seen it with me own two eyes. Beyond those loomin’ mounts, a world be waitin for the eager traveler, as I was in me wee years. I ventured forth not in search of a solution to the problems we was sick with, but for the knowledge that rested in a tome yonder horizon line..."
The wizened elder said to his audience, the fire casting deep, dramatic shadows across his weathered features and long, white beard.
"...Because any half-wit knows that readin’ be a pillar of our very soul. We always needen’ stories to keep us kickin’, and it be through those stories that our future be modelled after.”
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To see a friend being flogged by one of the Masters was always a trying experience, but to be the victim was one-hundred times worse. Zerum was tied tightly by his wings to the flogging pole, and a Master was positioned behind him, ready to begin. From somewhere else, a rough voice was announcing to the assembled audience, the reasons why Zerum in particular was due for punishment. Though he could hardly understand the language, he made out some of the crier’s sentence.
'Escape. Bad. Master. Flogging. Griffer.' He hated the ‘G’ word almost as much as he feared his impending punishment.
Before Zerum could even say sorry, the first whip came down on his back, making him wince. He gritted his beak as he felt the feathers at the point of impact ripped off. Again the whip sung, and this time, it left a deep laceration across his shoulder. Pain flared behind his temple and he uttered another grunt. At three strikes, he began to lose his composure. At four, hot tears began to collect in the corner of his eyes. Five and six left a steady stream of blood to sully what feathers remained on his backside, and seven made him bite down hard enough on his tongue to make it bleed. How many more would he be given? He hadn't even been a bad cub as of late. All he had done was leave his cell during visiting hours to tell his story to one of the younger slaves... so why was he being beaten so savagely?
At the tenth strike, a momentary lull in the beating allowed Zerum to open his eyes. Blinking through the tears, he scanned the audience. Many of the other slaves he recognized were in the assembly, but one individual in particular stood out to him. She was a pony, but she didn't look like a Master. She was wearing a latex dress that seemed horribly out of place in the Underbelly, and she held a grim look on her muzzle.
When the flogging started up again, Zerum found that if he focused on her eyes-surprisingly colourful-and yet again out of place in the gray Underbelly, his ruthless punishment for simply being a griffon wouldn't hurt so much.
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Novus sat in the privacy of his room reading a letter from ancient times. When he had found it in the basement of the library he worked at, curiosity had gotten the best of him. Thankfully, somepony at one point in time had taken the liberty to preserve the document by laminating it. It carried an interesting message, and though he had no clue of who the writer-this Twilight Sparkle-was he had been irrevocably interested in what it was about ever since he had first laid his hooves on it.
He scanned over the delicate horn-writing again, his eyes resting on a few peculiar areas. In this letter, the writer had mentioned something about an almanac on the Elements of Harmony. At least that's what he thought it said, as the edges of the letter were faded and stained, leaving whatever was written on the fringes up to interpretation. While the section about some sort of riot was a practical gateway to endless daydreaming, the more pressing detail came at the very beginning of the letter; it was signed off to none other than Princess Celestia herself.
Novus had heard about the twisted monarch Celestia, they had a whole unit on her fall in history class, but to be holding in his hooves a letter signed off to her?! He should be sending it over to the Manehattan museum, and yet he had the impulse to keep it for himself. He would find this almanac, and learn about what the tome held in its pages.
Storytellers of Past and Future
'Twas a fine day for adventure. Thee west wind, it beckoned like the warm embrace of a mother, and I looked to the sunrise and smiled. With me saddlebag hitched and ready, my departure was swift, me hopes... high. I stopped at the edge of town to gaze back on me home and me bosom filled with excitement. I left trottin’ and didn't look back.
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Alone in the dim gloom, Zerum could only suffer in silence. His back burned like the fires of Gadania’s mighty battle-claws, and a fever had fallen over him. The worst thing, however, was how miserable he felt for being a bad cub. He would have to find another way to please his Masters, even if that meant being taken into the Musk Room and satiating a Masters carnal desire. He'd done it once before, so why not again? Any embarrassment he felt was always soothed by the praise from a Master afterwards.
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The first pony I met on me travels was Cinder. She was off to yonder mount Koplanhigm, named rightfully after the mighty god Koplan. He dwells by his mountain shrine, and shakes his mighty staff to cause the rainfall. The wind says that he was the one who raised the sun and moon, my mentor Celestia, praise her beard, and her younger sister, Luna.
But I be tiddlin’ off. Mount Solon was the sister to Koplanhigm, and I never minded company, so I joined her troupe. Together we bested the snow an’ splatter, and scaled Koplanhigm till we reached the summit. And what a sight it was! Lookin’ down on me village through a gap in the clouds. The kind mare Cinder did her pilgrimage, but when she turned her tail, I stopped her. I asked for her to join me. She wholeheartedly agreed, and me heart warmed at company.
Praise Hati! Goddess of good fortune! A kind mare was now me travelin’ par’ner.
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A strange smell, followed by hoofsteps from behind Zerum made him turn. Was one of his masters coming to get him? No. But it wasn't something he'd complain about. There in the doorway to his cell, that mare from his flogging stood. She had that same sorrowful look in her eyes, and though she appeared calm and collected, Zerum could detect her deep apprehension. Was she doubting him, or herself?
"He’o," He greeted, turning fully around to direct his disjointed Equestrian Neu
"Hello," she replied back, taking a step into the cell.
"Wy hr?"
"Why am I here? That's a good question. Why am I here?" she took a step back, and was about to go when Zerum stopped her.
"Sty hr. Copny, I like." he encouraged, dusting off a spot on the floor a respectable distance away from his filthy Griffer form.
The female offered the faintest of smiles before timidly entering the cell again and sitting down.
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...me an Cinder descended Koplanhigm, and in the valley, we rested for the night. Late in Luna, demon howlin’ woke me up, and I pulled me dagger and stoked the fire. Them dire wolves are a vicious lot, with fangs in their mouth and hunger in their hearts. They gobble up the weary traveler if he be too slow or too weak in one mighty chomp!"
To emphasize the deadly jaws and sudden death bestowed on the traveler caught unaware, the story-teller rose on his hind legs and made a gaping shadow jaw with two cleverly placed hooves. He then proceeded to chomp down on the nearest group of fillies and colts, who gasped and flinched as the shadow crossed over them. The sight brought a mischievous twinkle to the elders’ eyes.
"They came on us like night itself, droolin’ and barkin’ in glee. I raised me dagger and prepared to defend me companion with me life."
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"Yu afade?"
"To tell you the truth. Yes. You’re big, I'm small." In accordance to her words, she motioned with her hooves, showing the two sizes dramatically.
"I afade o you. You poni ar lik dire wolf. I ar lik a shep. Baaa." Zerum added for effect. "I bitn, see?" The griffon turned around to let his companion see the deep, welted lacerations across his back.
She winced at the sight, and smiled bitterly. Even in the gloom, the wounds looked incredibly painful.
"But I bad cub, I bitn for being bad. I dersive it."
"No one deserves that. Not even you." The female assured, unable to keep the tears from blurring her vision. In a slow, cautious motion, she raised a hoof to Zerum's shoulder- only to find him flinch like a timid dog and scoot away. "I suppose we are the wolves." she whispered, closing her eyes.
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...an in that moment of preparation, I braced and hardened me soul and bones. An then, the most amazin’ thing happened. The lassie, seemin’ to faze out of thee shadows, walked past me, and when I grabbed her to keep her safe, she turned and gave me a graceful stare. I saw a fire in the mare’s eye, a blazin’ one that made me grow roots. She had rooted me into the ground with a simple gaze! She then proceeded to confront the beast, droppin’ her butterfly-of-a-blade to thee cold earth below and raisin’ her chin like royalty. The one wolf moved in for the kill, his cold eyes as stony as the stars, his breath came a curlin’ out and he pounced. As quick as a hummin’ bird the mistress leapt into the air and, usin’ her neck n’ muzzle, hugged the beast!"
Jumping down from his podium, the storyteller embraced the nearest young’un into a bear-hug, a particular earth pony who had a very characteristic cutie mark of a red apple. The young filly laughed and squirmed out of the elder’s grasp before sitting back down beside her friends.
"She got close to the beast, an’ then tamed it with kindness, somethin’ I would avoid if it meant biting me own tail off. But I learned a lesson then. Often we hide behind our weapons and armour. But there's a problem with that. Armour can grow old and degrade, and weapons get dull. They be unreliable. Your heart and your soul is what you need to be relyin’ on, because if you are an honest sort, they will never fail."
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The atmosphere in Zerum's cell had been unpleasantly dampened after the mare had admitted her kinds savagery. Growing more uncomfortable at every moment, he took the opportunity to ask a question that had been on his tongue since he had first seen the mare at his flogging.
“Wy hre? Nt in rom, bt in Underbelly?”
“Why am I here in the Underbelly? Oh, well, that’s a long story,” the Mare admitted. “And I’m afraid it’ll be lost on you with your poor grasp of our language-” she then added as an afterthought “-if you want the truth, I’m impressed we’ve been able to communicate so well already.”
“I lik stry. I tll stry oten.”
“You do?” the question was neither addressed to his first comment, or the last. Both were equally enticing.
For a Griffin growing up in such suppressed conditions, she doubted he had access to any books, let alone story books. What exactly had he meant by that?
“What do you mean? Can you read?”
“No. But I cn tel.”
“Oh, you mean like dramatic storytelling?”
“Dram… dramastic?” Zerum struggled with the new word.
“No, no, dramatic. Um, sort of like spoken word,” she explained before attempting to provide an example. “Once upon a time…”
“Ah! Lik tradtion stry of ol Equestria.” The griffon exclaimed, his eyes lighting up in understanding.
“You know of those? You mean, you know Old Equestrian, or you know the tales?” the mare clarified.
“Bth. Ol is my specis liguage,” he specified.
“It is?” The fact stunned the mare.
If this was the case, she could probably understand him. Old Equestrian was a language taught in class. She wasn’t fluent, but she did have a chance.
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...she sent the wolf runnin’ back to the cold forest. That Luna only served as a time to talk with Cinder, not sleep, and I asked her where she trained to be such an animal diplo-mat. She explained that she was raised and bathed many a day-walk north, in a small kingdom of crystal. She knew not the name, only the mountain her ancestors had taken the crystal from; she say ‘Diddius Mount’, but she meant ‘Diamond Dog Mount’, me thinks.
Diamond dogs ain’t no Dire Wolves, they be a prided race of dog that reside on that mount. The wind told me that there was a battle then between the ponies and dogs there. The ponies wanted the wealth while the dogs needed the health. At one point, they had only eaten diamonds, but with battle ragin’ and their teeth strengthenin’, they grew accustomed to pony meat. A whole race forced into savagery by tryin’ times is a true tragedy.
My suspicions were proven right when she told me she’d ran away for a ten year pilgrimage, and on her journeys, grew at peace with nature. She didn’t like her race’s ways, so then, like any inde-pendent mare, she set out on her own like a hermit-pony.
Me chancing a rendezvous with her on the path to Koplanhigm was a luck indeed. One I be blessed with still. The thing is though; me story is still just beginnin’.
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The mare cleared her throat. “Ecquid intellegis me? Do you understand me?”
“Sic! Yes!” Zerum exclaimed, his heart set to burst. The excitement he was experiencing over being able to cohesively communicate with this Master was making him giddy. “Sic, Sic, Sic!”
The mare couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of how excited the griffon had gotten. The feeling was short-lived, however, as she recalled where she was, and who she was talking to. As a dog picks up on his master’s emotions, Zerum picked up on the pang of sadness that had momentarily emanated from the mare. He concluded that he had done something wrong, and cowered.
“Sory, Master.” He whimpered. “I mak sd.”
“No, no, that’s not it,” the mare assured. “I’m just, well; it’s not important what I’m feeling.”
“Is,” Zerum said, timidly raising a wing to stroke at the Master’s cheek.
On the slight draft that came in on the offered wingtip, she could smell blood, waste and filth. On any normal circumstance, the smells would have repelled her, but on this occasion, the sheer kindnesses of the gesture outweighed the stench, and she allowed the reassuring stroke to brush delicately across her cheek.
“Thank you…” she blanked. What was the name of this griffon? “What’s your name? My name is Ember.”
“Am-der?”
“No, Em-ber.” Ember restated. “And what’s your name?”
“Zerum.”
“Zerum? That’s a nice name,” she praised.
“Thank Master, I gld it ples,” Zerum admitted.
“I’m not your Master.” Ember couldn’t will herself to keep eye contact after what he had said; the last thing she wanted was to be spoken of in the same way as his slave-drivers were.
“You Master. They Master. Pone are Masters.”
There was no convincing him, so Ember stopped trying and focused again on the story she was dying to tell.
“Vis audire fabulam? Would you like to hear a story?”
“Sic.” He stopped momentarily to cough before continuing. “Wht stry abot?”
“I’ll tell why I’m here. Would you like that?” Ember asked.
“Sic.”
“Alright.” Taking a deep breath, the mare prepared herself.
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…When the sun woke, me an’ Cinder started trail beatin’. We wanted to make it through the valley beside Koplanhigm before the next Luna. We ran into a few different critters on our way, but at this point I trusted Cinder and her animal skills, and I kept me blade and magic sheathed. I recall at one point, a grisly Gore-Boar was our travelin’ partner, which set me on all ends until it licked me foreleg like a house-hog. It left after a bit, though, on the trail of food.
Me an’ her gabbed a bit more, and enjoyed the freedom given to us on that particular sun. In no time, we reached the end of the valley, which spilled out into the Black-Pine forest. It be a gruelin’ place, but one we had to wander if I wanted to make it to Mount Solon. I told her such, and I told her the danger, but she smiled, that brave mare, and said she’d come with me tail even if it meant chompin’ down on it and bein’ dragged! She was an insistent dame, no doubt, and once again I found me bosom swell at the thought of her devotion to my endeavors. Seein’ that she would not take no, I shrugged me saddle and continued on, the fine mare trailin’ on me tail.
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...Im 'a loco ad transmarinas partes, Sternite Arabia. I’m from a place overseas, Saddle Arabia.” Ember explained to an almost too tentative Zerum. “Natus non eram ibi, sed hic in Topgrounds Manehattan. I was not born there, but here in Manehattan on the Topgrounds. Patrem meum, honesto emissarius, et honestissimam Nobel introduxit me super procul iuventute ad persequendum eius fortunae uirtutisque quasi diplomat. My father, a respectable stallion and a reputable Noble had brought me over at a young age to pursue his career as a diplomat. Malles, fuerant attributi quasi externae res minister ut curo aliqua diplomaticum tensionem inter Arabibus, et Eques. He’d been assigned as a foreign affairs minister to manage some sort of diplomatic tension between the minorities there...
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A younger Ember sat in the corner of her small room, curled in a ball and whimpering softly. The hoofsteps, they were getting closer. She hoped against hope that it was her father coming to tell her that everything was ok, and not the strange robed stallion from before, but she knew better. They were coming, her dad was probably dead, and it was all because of her. The thought ate at her stomach and threatened to consume her- and to think she brought this on her quiet household.
Clip, clop. Clip, clop. Clip clop. Tick, tock.
Louder now, the noises of somepony approaching was like a clock chiming her final hour. They were right outside her door! Ember pulled herself into a tighter ball and tried to disappear into the shadows.
The door opened, and there he stood.
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If the mounts were cold with snow, Black-Pine was a different kind of cold. The air hung heavy with it, a sort of cold that got right underneath your fur and kissed the bone. I pulled me traveling cloak close to me form, and kept lookin’ at Cinder. The mare had done the same, and her eyes kept dartin’ back n’ forth as she scanned the pressin’ darkness for danger. It was clear sailing for a while, that is until we was taken unawares at a bend in the trail.
We call the Bare Hooves of Black-Pine ‘Wraiths’—just like we call the elusive bird-ponies pegasi—but they like to call themselves the Convent. They be a savage society, lerkin’ all ways in the darker reaches of Equus, stealin’ from the merchant caravans, an’ takin’ the mares and young’uns. Sure, I’d heard of their name uttered on the wind, but to run into those black-banded Convent was somethin’ else. I turned to Cinder, seein’ if she could use her kindness to tame them, but she shook her head and drew her tiny dagger in a field of magic. This time, we would have to fight.
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“Hello, sweetie.” The voice held no compassion, and the endearing term was fouled by his scowl. Ember meeped and pushed herself against the corner, trying to meld into it. “Thought I was daddy? Sorry to shatter your hopes.”
A file-folder of some sort was protruding a bit from the robed stallions stained saddlebag. She glanced at it, a flare of curiosity momentarily pushing back the fear. Catching her eye, the earth pony smiled a bit and cantered towards her.
“Wondering what this folder contains-” he didn’t wait for a response“-it’s your daddy’s secrets.”
“S,s, secrets?” Ember whispered, finding that her voice had failed her.
“Yes. Oh, what? Did you think he was simply here to negotiate peace? The Convent will never surrender, it was a foolish attempt. We’ve been around since ancient times, and we control these streets. But I’m getting ahead of myself-” his anger began to bubble up, lacing his words with venomous emphasis “-your daddy was here on a second mission: to retrieve, or more-so steal, a document of ours. Some call it the Harmony Almanac, we call it our birthright. There is no way under Celestia’s sun or Luna’s moon that we’ll let a damn Equestrian take it. Your father is nothing more than a thief, and a swindler. He’s already punished, but I don’t think I’m satisfied.” His temper wavered and an uneasy feeling fell over the room. “You’re his daughter. Imagine how tormented he’d be to know that he let you get taken away and shattered.”
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…It finally happened! It came to me so suddenly! Oh, to feel it again is a blessing from Celestia herself,” Hyperbole exclaimed, simply emanating relief.
His friend, a sturdy earth pony with a worn fedora and at the moment, a pitcher of cider, deadpanned.
“Hyperbole, are you drunk? I wouldn’t be surprised, you stink like brandy, cheap brandy. That stuff is—”
“I’m not drunk, you foal.”
“Then what are you talking about?” he questioned.
“Inspiration, Fiddler.”
“Inspiration?” Fiddler mused. “Now that’s a word I haven’t heard from you in a long while. You mean you’re starting to write again?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. I recently ran into an old history book that talked about the Harmony Almanac.” Tapping his hoof on the bar table once, Hyperbole hailed the waiter. “At first it was a rather dry read, but when I got to the thick of it, things started picking up. You wouldn’t believe how much happened since Twilight Sparkle wrote the thing about one thousand years ago.”
Fiddler leaned in attentively “What have you learned so far?”
“I’ve learnt of how she was surrounded by a mob and couldn’t publish the almanac. By the time she’d written about thirty pages, the rioters finally overpowered the guards and stormed the building. She didn’t stand a chance.”
“You mean to say she died? How do you kill an alicorn?” Fiddler asked.
This was a valid question, one the writer sought to explain.
“I didn’t say that. I’d reckon she was imprisoned like the two goddesses in that time of chaos. I mean, it makes sense. With nobody there to find the next generation of Element bearers, the circle of chaos and peace would have been broken- was broken.
“Not to mention that her body was never found, and if I remember correctly, when the two goddesses were finally freed in the Harmony Revolution, she was not there.”
"A valid point, but who’s to say that she was not imprisoned somewhere else? She might even still be there, suffering in the darkness for a thousand years as the world went on—” As if jolted by a sudden shock of electricity, Hyperboles eyes widened. “What an interesting story idea! I just have to… oh, no, not exactly like… maybe.”
Fiddler cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. “You were saying, Hyperbole?”
The writer smiled sheepishly. “Ha, you know me, Fiddle, I tend to ramble when I’m brainstorming. I suppose what I’m trying to get at is that there were two major individuals who played a part in the Harmony revolution, and two others who started the ball rolling. What I find to be the most interesting fact, however, is that these four came from different places all over Equestria and beyond—some even from different time periods—and yet their actions all came to one point in the future that led to the world being as it is now. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
