> What Came Before > by nameundetermined > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > A Tale To Be Told > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- You trudge your way across a field of grass, coughing softly as the sun slowly sinks behind the horizon. Your throat is parched, your canteen long-empty since the last time you encountered water to refill it some ways back. But you don’t mind. Thirst is one of the many things you have learned to tolerate in your long life. As you watch the sun slowly disappear behind the hills, you contemplate its meaning to you, and the most tragic sunset you ever bore witness to. It spurs you to ponder on how you have had a life far longer than you rightfully deserve, really. Longer than any sane person would want to live, at least where you come from. You once had friends who understood the burden of this longevity, but they all faded from this world a long time ago, one by one as the magic faded, but somehow, you remained. You aren’t sure how you have managed to stay alive so long. Perhaps one of them gave what little magic they had left at the end to you and you are living on borrowed time. Perhaps some greater force than even friendship has plans for you that you have yet to carry out. Perhaps you are simply incredibly lucky. In any case, you are here, and you have to deal with it. And that means you need to find somewhere to settle for the evening that has food and water. Even with the curse that pervades you, you yet require sustenance and shelter. Fortunately, as the light finally fades and the moon rises, you see in the distance, lights. The gentle glow of civilization. You smile softly at this good fortune and redouble your pace. You may not be welcome in town. In fact, you are almost sure the ponyfolk that surely wait within its borders will reject you as an outsider, a strange creature to be spurned. But that simply means you will have to mind where you settle for the evening and try not to make any trouble. Really, the ritual that is sneaking into a town to make camp for the evening and grab whatever supplies you need from the closed down shops and stalls reminds you of your first few days here, oh so long ago. How you had to scrounge and scrape and steal to survive until you met...her. And the gentle embrace of nostalgia that comes with every incursion is almost enough to override the deep loneliness, the rejection that you never thought you would have to endure again as an outsider so long ago before the end of it all. You shake your head, attempting to clear your mind and set your wandering thoughts back on track. There will be time for reminiscing once you have found somewhere to settle in for the night and refill your canteen. There does seem to be a river between you and the city where you will be able to stop and fill your canteen, and if you aren’t mistaken, the town may even be near its end feeding out to the ocean. As you catch sight of it, the obvious telltale revolving flash of what could only be a lighthouse, your suspicions are confirmed. You have in one stroke decided on a place to sleep, a place to gather water, and a place to gather some fresh fish. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ About half an hour after sundown, you have managed to make your way into town unnoticed. You draw your cloak tightly over yourself, doing your best to remain unseen and unnoticed, your backpack rustling lightly against your back, as you quickly trudge your way behind the lighthouse you saw earlier. A few minutes of quick work, and you are inside, slipping through the window deftly and creeping your way out of the room you found yourself in. You think it might be some sort of workshop. The floor and walls and the desk are all littered with pages and pages of notes, some in disorganized piles, others connected by bits of string, but you cannot make much out in the dim light of the moon. But your ears work just fine, and as you hear a soft cough behind you you freeze for a moment before slowly turning to see a stallion standing behind you. You must not have noticed him when you first entered, but it seems he had been asleep at the desk, obscured by shadows and sleeping silently, but he is awake now, and very much alert and interested in you. Pis purple eyes glint in the moonlight with a curious intensity as he slowly comes closer to you, cocking his head. “Well, aren’t you a strange creature…” he says softly. Not in an angry tone, more fascinated than anything in fact. Perhaps you can use this to your advantage. You clear your own throat softly and speak. Your voice is rough and a bit out of practice. It has been ages since you last spoke to another after all. “Yes, that I am. You aren’t the first to say it, and you certainly won’t be the last. Sorry for the er….unexpected entry by the by. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here this late.” The blue stallion nods slowly, squinting a bit as he tilts his head and looks you over slowly “Well, I live here, but I would not expect you to know that, so I won’t hold it against you too hard. Just be happy my mare friend isn’t staying the night, or I might have been a bit less ready to talk.” You feel yourself pale slightly at the thought. Ponies might be small, but they are quite strong. Even without magic, an earth pony has enough brawn to trample you if they get you cornered, sort of how you are right now. He sees your expression change and chuckles, shaking his head “Now now, don’t worry. You picked a good night to break in, you lucky uh...what are you exactly? A minotaur? Diamond Dog? Haven’t been any of your kind in Equestria in a very long time if you are.” You raise an eyebrow, slightly taken aback at his question “Well now, I’m surprised you know those names offhand. You certainly seem to be an unusual character yourself, Mister…” “Argyle.” He said simply, nodding as he took a seat again, seeming content that you pose no threat and ready to sate his curiosity, though not seeming to notice that you never answered the question. “I happen to be a...historian of sorts, so this sort of thing is my field of expertise.” Your eyes light up a bit. A historian, perhaps someone you can strike up a decent conversation with. “Really now, and what might your specialty be, Mister Argyle?” “I specialize in pre-schism history, before the great separation,” he says, a slightly frustrated tinge creeping into his voice. “Admittedly not a terribly well fleshed out period as far as written history goes but one that I feel holds a great number of answers that we as a society would benefit from. The current version of events well...it just doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t seem right.” Ah yes, the revisionist version of history. You cringe internally at the thought of it, the horrid mockery they made of the legacy of your closest friends, and how powerless you had always been to stop it. Though..perhaps tonight, that might change. You give a small smile, slowly reaching into your bag “Well, you are certainly right about that…” you say as you slowly rummage around. “As it happens, I might have what you’re looking for.” He gives you a somewhat confused look as you pull out a tattered old book, his eyes widening as he sees the symbol on the front of it “It...it can’t be…” “It can, and it is Mister Argyle,” you say firmly, but not unkindly as you slowly walk next to him and place the book on the table, with the six-sided star marking on the front visible. “The fact that you recognize this symbol and appreciate how important this is tells me everything I need to know. And everything you need to know is between these pages.” Well, not everything, a lot of it has been lost to weathering, faded ink, missing pages. Small cumulative losses to the tolls of the road despite your best efforts, But you always were a bit of a dramatic one. “B-but how did you get this, where did you find it?” He asked incredulously, eyes pinned hungrily to the priceless artifact before him until he slowly pried his eyes away and looked back to you, where you were, of course, giving them quite the shit-eating grin. It wasn’t often that you got to pull out the mysterious stranger routine, and you always enjoyed having a bit of fun with it. “Let’s just say that you aren’t the only one with an investment in history. In fact, I have a few tales you might find interesting that you won’t find in this book if you’d like to hear them. I’ll be happy to stay the night and regale you if you’ll provide me with-” “Yes! Anything you need, please!” he said, not sounding desperate, but certainly excited, pulling up a chair and sitting quickly, looking up at you from behind his glasses with all of the enthusiasm of a schoolcolt about to be entertained by his favorite bedtime story. You gave a small sigh, even after all these centuries, those puppy dog eyes still got you on every pony that shot them. You sat on the floor, cross-legged, still high enough to meet his eye as you nodded and closed your eyes, drudging up the right words to start the story. “Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there were two regal sisters who ruled together and created harmony for all the land….”