The warmth of the darkness would slowly fade away, allowing for the sights and smells of consciousness to climb into my mind. His nose was crushed by the heavy and thick air, tainted by the smell of sweat, excrement, and fear. Note’s head slowly raised from the ground, his muscles sore, but his mind had become active, rapidly outpacing what his eyes, ears, and nose would tell him. There were a significant amount of other ponies, around 12, all cramped into the shack, with barely any room in between them. He stood up, slowly, shakily. The notion of his position had begun to return to his mind, the fact that his life could end. He didn’t want to die, he wanted to survive.
I want doesn’t get. His mother, oh how he missed her, those sweet gliding words. He had originally thought, as a colt, he could maintain their beauty by writing them down. Although that was not true, he discovered his passion for the page and the putting of ink upon it. But he was thinking off track, he had to maintain focus, he would remain alive, he would make sure that there would be few, if any, deaths. The memory of that execution suddenly barged its way into his mind’s eye, and he nearly felt sick, he was getting better at this, no longer getting sick over it! I need to focus! Note Taker thought, abandoning the idea of pacing due to the other ponies either laying stationary or sleeping their terrified sleep. If I am useful, they won’t kill me… He had to be prepared for the worst, and so he changed his mind to the most pessimistic of views. If my usefulness has run its course, they could kill me. But if I maintain it, I could survive, and maybe even bargain…. For the first time, it seemed like Note’s obsession of maps, and knowledge of his world would bear fruit. No knowledge is useless.
Suddenly, much to all ponies in the shack, the door opened fast, and in stepped one of the humans, a far more uniform appearance than the ramshackle men who had forced him into the shack, he pulled a piece of parchment. They had a written language? Were the humans hiding their rise to sapience? How could they have gotten these advancements to quickly- Note was then promptly cut off by the human, who once again attempted to speak the equestrian tongue, “Note Taker.” He stated, pointing towards him, “you come here, immediately.” Note Taker’s heart once again began to try and beat itself out of its fleshy prison, to flee from the humans who would try to destroy him. But Note would comply, attempting to walk over the bodies. He stepped on many of them, but none dared cry out due to the presence of their living nightmare. Each step seemed to slow down time further, his mane was matted from the sweat and dirt, he became painfully aware of the scrutinising of his body by the human, yet eventually, he would make it, once again accidentally trampling on another pony, but no word of apology would come out. His mouth tightened shut by his brain, he had to maintain a hard front, he had to be useful. My only chance…. Note Taker did not challenge the poor-quality collar of rope and probably some animal parts, he shuddered at that thought, as it was tightened around his neck, “Move with me.” Said the human, as Note’s ears fell limp in absolute torment of the bastardisation of his tongue. He moved at a pace equalling the human, attempting to not get pulled by the collar, he had seen the rashes on humans’ necks, he had no intention of getting them himself. He did however, turn his head to see if he could pry any information to feed his plan.
To his horror, he saw some humans, about 30, in rows of 10, all holding spears and holding them in a way which could even been commented to be professional by a drunk, in front of them stood another human, his ‘uniform’ (if it could even be called that) noticeably different, was shouting in the human tongue, prompting the humans in front of him to positing their spears and their own bodies in different positions, before he got out of the way and they actually marched, in line, whilst the one that was presumably the officer barked out orders at them. The similarities between them and the Solarian guard was terrifying to say the least, an organised foe for the Solarian Empire, or its bastard offspring as many had come to call the Holy Solarian Empire, was something that these days was an actual threat. As shown by the rise of the Griffins in the north. The end of the God Alicorns Solaris and Apollo had sung the song of decline for the ponies.
Yet his attention was not to be focused there, instead he turned back to continue walking forward, along with the human with him. They passed a farm, with labourers cutting wheat, a self-organised farm. Whilst it was true that humans could be taught how to work on farms, to make an entire system themselves?
At this point, Note Taker was wondering if he should even be surprised at the humans’ advances. They had built their own little society in the unnamed forest, with a standing army apparently, no matter how small the idea itself was one of the great ones, something that the thinkers of the Empire were constantly advocating for, only to be shot down by the dukes and counts.
Yet after passing a few houses, the human stopped, and Note Taker stopped after a few extra steps, his mind engrossed on these humans. He suddenly noticed that he, along with the human, were in front of a door, a door that after the human’s knocking, was opened by another guard. Note Taker was suddenly yanked forward into the building by this guard. The house was made of logs, a cabin, much like the Crystal Dominion’s houses, they were nice ponies, he didn’t see why so many opposed their full integration as a duchy, or even a kingdom, into the Holy Solarian Empire. It would have felt cosy, the house, yet the fear of a blade to the throat made his spine shiver. At least his heart had stopped beating in such a rapid and fast paced manner. Then they went through another door, and Note Taker saw him.
The leader of these humans, sitting on a desk, writing, with a flag.
A flag. An invention of the ponies, to know where lords sat at parades, and which part of an army belonged to who. First the holy Equestrian language, then the flag? The flag itself however, was rather strange. It had no cutey mark, which all flags had, other species would create their own, even if it was not present on their own body. Yet this flag, was made of bars. Coloured bars, with a human skull in the middle, with a laurel wreath around it. A rather pompous flag for those who looked like savages. Yet the skull… None had seen a skull on a banner since Solaris’ purge of the daemons, although none had seen that. It was legend. Could it be that this human was that great daemon returning? No, that would mean the end of civilization the-, “Hello Mister Taker.” He was cut off by the human behind the desk, his head looking up from writing, “Take a seat.” The mangled words seemed to try and stab at him, he still could not come to turns with the unnatural sound, but he complied with the order, clambering onto an oversized chair, the presence of the guard who had exported him was painfully obvious. His heavy breathing pummelling itself against the nape of Note Taker’s neck. But his attention was then forced away from that, back to the human in front of him, “You said you knew the map of Equestria off by heart.”
“Yes… lord…” Fear began to coil its way up Note Taker’s spine, his mind began to teeter off in the direction of panicstay focused, stay alive. The human then stared straight into his eyes, hostility poorly hidden, probably on purpose, behind a mask of neutrality, “You also know the general size of all garrisons?”
“I had too sir.” The human pondered this answer, before pushing forward a piece of parchment and a quill inside ink. At least they hadn’t caught up with the technology of writing, pens were hilariously more efficient. His thought process was cut off by the feeling of metal on the back of his neck, Note Taker gulped loudly, realising his gaze had gone down, he slowly frightened it, painfully aware of the blade at his neck, “May I use magic?” The human looked surprised at this question, “Why do you ask that, surely that is how you write?”
“There are legal limits on the usage of magic for those outside the-“
“The knowledge of magic is restricted?” The human’s face lightened up, “Explain this, then you will draw this map.” Note Taker inhaled deeply, before he opened his mouth to reply to those skewered words, “When the God Alicorn rose as Emperor Regent for Solaris, he feared he would be overthrown by magic, his magic being nowhere as potent as that of Solaris. Yet he was advised against it, he instead created a loyal group of battle mages.” This seemed to lower the human’s mood, maybe I should lie? Yet the thought was crushed before it gained momentum, for Note Taker had an appallingly bad skill in the art of slander and deceit, so he would continue, and hope for survival, “However, when the blueblood family came to power, they had actual cause to fear, and Emperor Blueblood I would begin to heavily restrict magic, leaving only a hoofull to conduct research, and fight in his wars. For those who use magic for minor tasks, we need a licence, which is noted down in the great library of Gallopallot in the Canterlot palace.”
“This is the city which stands on two peaks?” Asked the human, curiosity etched into his words, had he been a pony and not being to handle whether he lived or died, Note Taker might’ve enjoyed a conversation with him. But that was not the case, “Yes lord, Gallopalot is indeed the city, and capital, which stands on the twin peaks.” The human said something to the guard, in his own native tongue, prompting him to leave the room, his blade sliding down, as far as it could, down Note’s neck and back, before being pulled away and with the human. The leader of the humans then looked back to the Pony in front of him, “So, you will draw me this map, with the centre being here.” He pointed as a little illustration of a village surrounded by some trees, “Draw the rest of Equestria and its surrounding regions.”
With little other choice, and his magic not strong enough to be able to even hold an individual in place, let alone handle the obvious reinforcements that would come, or even if his mind could remain calm the entire time, he drew. Note Taker drew and explained what he drew. He talked of the southern counts whose only wish was profit and whose position under the great unnamed forest gave them an excuse on why they were not able to send troops to put down Minotaur or other minor species’ revolts. Yet also would always come to show how much they ‘loved’ their lord, and how much they should deserve some money for their loyalty. He spoke of the Camel Emirates to the south, how they were one of the few who did not use human slaves, useless in their line of work in trading across the inhospitable terrain. Their species mostly selling the goods made by the Zebraic confederacies, and bring many dyes, spices and the like across the great Suden Desert.
He spoke of the Horseic tribes, slowly being pushed to extinction by the ponies and Zebraic confederacies, forced to wander aimlessly in the plains to the southwest of the Holy Solarian Empire, their occasional raids coming with little to no state retribution. With this he was interrupted, “Horses?” Asked the human, “Essentially ones who are taller, less flexible, and are less coloured?” Note Taker nodded, he was proving to be useful, he had to be careful to not be too useful, that could lead to his proverbial oasis drying up, and the lion in front of him would eat when there was no longer water to distract him.
Then further north, above the forest, was the heartland of the ponies, fertile farmland, with some human slaves present, some forts, relics of the Solarian era, all that remained. Abandoned, whilst the counts and dukes in their castles forgot their buildings’ purpose and instead made them look magnificent, yet impractical in the event of a siege. Oversized arches and spires, beautiful works of architecture, but a single siege engine could topple the whole thing.
To the north, lay the Griffin kingdoms, slowly growing fewer and stronger due to a unification of their species by the great king Goldwing, who stood by the Holy Solarian Empire as both a loyal ally, and treacherous enemy.
There was of course more, but Note Taker had to maintain his usefulness, he could not say everything at once. Then his tongue slipped, his mind lulled into a sense of security, and friendliness with the discussions he had when answering the human’s question, he said, “What next?” In an excited tone, the fear that had coiled around him before gone, but then it had quickly wrapped around him again s the human’s face returned to a neutral one, “You will not know, but you may know what to call me Note Taker.” Note Taker leaned in, a human name, that would be rather interesting, “My name is..." He said something intillegible , to you it is Bringer of War.” He smiled dangerously at Note Taker, “You may be useful, but you and your scum of a race will be my enemy until punished, remember that. “And to that, Note Taker became frightened, and the theory of the daemon no longer seemed to farfetched…