Freebie Mondays: My Little Domerin – Episode 10: Act 1

I promised my twitch chat I would take Domerin, the grumpy elf main character from the Aruvalia Chronicles, and turn him into a pony if they helped me pay for my replacement computer. I never thought we’d reach that goal – but of course we did. Because my twitch chat continues to be the most generous community out there.

For more details on the project, check the intro. (There are pictures of my characters converted into ponies there as well.) You can also find links to the first half of the story here.

This story is meant to take place in the same world as “My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic,” though it’s unlikely any of the characters from the show will appear in the story. I have attempted to adopt the style of storytelling used by the show (including an episodic format and a ‘season’ instead of chapters in a novel). And some of the ponies that appear were created by donators from my chat. VoDs of the writing sessions are available on my youtube channel!

I hope you enjoy this crazy, silly little romp!
. . .

“Are you sure these amulets will hold so far from the source of their power?” Crescent fretted, though it didn’t stop him from putting one hoof steadily in front of the other.

He and Greg had been on the road for most of a day now. When they set out, the sun had been hovering low on the horizon in the east, now it was beginning to creep along the distant mountains to the west. Dark shadows played along the rest of the skyline while brilliant streaks of gold and orange lit the space beneath the sun on fire.

This was the farthest any of them had traveled since the start of this mess while still remaining under the influence of the time magic the princess created to combat the crisis. While they were in the bubble that surrounded her tower, they were safe from the changes being made to the timeline – but they were also clueless as to what might be happening outside it.

Crescent’s understanding was that the amulets he and Greg wore allowed them to carry a tiny piece of those protections with them. But if they took them off, even for a moment, they would become subject to the changes in the timeline. They would have no idea they had come from an alternate timeline or that Domerin was currently in the past trying to rectify the situation. They would have an entirely different recollection of events, and might even turn into entirely different people.

The concept terrified Crescent, and not just because he would rather not be anyone else.

If I forget why I’m here and what I’m doing, Domerin will be stranded in the past.

There was a small possibility Crescent wouldn’t even know Domerin in this new timeline, let alone be his dedicated partner. And since the thought had occurred to him, it hadn’t stopped nibbling at the back of his mind, eating its way ever deeper into the core of his concern.

“I don’t know,” Greg admitted, which caused Crescent to clench his teeth. “But what else are we supposed to do? The only renown detectives we’ve been able to locate in this new timeline are three days away from Silvergarden. We can’t summon them to see the queen, and it’s more efficient for us to make the journey in both directions anyway.” Since neither of them were willing to delay.

Crescent ground his teeth together against a sassy retort. He and Greg had spent a significant portion of the day galloping down the road, eating up the miles as quickly as they dared. They had stopped a few times to rest, eat and re-hydrate. But this was the first time they had slowed enough to share any form of conversation.

They were approaching a small town that lay just up the crest of the hill along the near horizon. Greg was fairly sure they could seek shelter at the local police station. With a couple hours of rest, they’d be strong enough to gallop for another day, even if every step drew them closer to a fair number of unknowns.

“Maybe we should camp along the road side,” Crescent protested – not for the first time. “What if someone comes upon us while we’re sleeping and takes the amulets off?”

“What about bandits on the road?” Greg countered. Crescent knew him well enough to recognize that his gruff tone did not indicate irritation, though he did sound a little exasperated. He had spent most of the last hour answering Crescent’s anxious queries. “Listen, we don’t know how safe this version of Aruvalia is. We don’t know if the roads are patrolled or if the enemy that slipped into the capital has scouts out looking for more ways to cause trouble. We should at least be able to trust the other members of the police force to grant us shelter and assistance. And if that doesn’t reassure you, we can keep watch,” Greg added this last because Crescent opened his mouth to protest.

“Besides, we both need a soft mattress and shelter from the elements,” the police constable went on. “If we reach our destination exhausted, we’re bound to make mistakes.”

“Everything you’re saying makes perfect sense,” Crescent agreed. “I just can’t help worrying, Greg. If something happens to one of us, if we forget what we’re doing… He’ll be stranded back there in the past with no one to come looking for him.”

“That isn’t true,” Greg insisted and stamped a hoof to emphasize his protest. “Princess Rose isn’t going to let her staunchest protector get lost in a previous era. If something happens to us, she’ll send someone to bring us back.”

“But moving in and out of the time stream won’t restore our memories,” Crescent protested. Once they crossed the threshold, that would be it. They would be the new people with the new memories. “An explanation isn’t going to work as well as knowing the nitty gritty details of this situation.”

“The amulets have held this far,” Greg countered. “We have no reason to believe they won’t hold longer. Just because the princess didn’t want to risk letting us linger outside the full protections of the time bubble for longer than a few hours before doesn’t mean its unsafe. What would Domerin say in this situation?”

Crescent sighed, annoyed that Greg was using his absent lover against him. “There’s nothing wrong with an abundance of caution,” he quoted, though not without a sigh on either end of the statement.

I wonder if I should tell Greg about Domerin’s plan to skid down the side of a muddy mountain so he could join a battle already in progress? But there was probably no point. As Domerin’s best friend, Greg was probably well aware of the duality of Domerin.

“I just don’t like the thought of it,” he insisted. “When I left, I thought I would only be gone for thirty seconds from his perspective.” Now Rupert insisted Crescent couldn’t target the same day for his return without risking running into himself or causing further damage to the timeline.

He hadn’t been able to pick out all the finer points about time travel from the robotic pony’s lecture, but the gist of it seemed to be that too many time portals opening at or around the same time could weaken the time stream and cause tears. No one could tell him what would happen if time tore itself open, but he wasn’t eager to find out.

“Didn’t you say the entire reason he sent you without him was because he doubted you could return that fast?” Greg countered. “I know you’re worried,” he added and stopped walking so he could turn to fully face Crescent on the road. “And I’m not trying to tell you it’s not justified. But Domerin isn’t alone back there. There are people looking out for him. If he really is the legendary hero that helped forge this kingdom, the knights fighting with him aren’t going to let him flounder on his own. And you will get back to him. Even if it takes us a month now, it’ll only be a few days from his perspective.”

Crescent snorted. He was starting to think it will only be a little while was a false reassurance they all uttered to make themselves feel better. But he also took the reassurance for what it was. He sighed and mustered a tired smile to offer his companion.

“I’d just feel better if we had an easier way to handle all of this. Knocking on doors and chatting up the local town gossips while they’re out and about for the day doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Two days had been spent before their departure trying to track down the minds they needed to sift through history and reveal the hidden answer to their conundrum. And short of taking off one of their amulets to acclimate to the timeline, their only other recourse had been to ask people about the changes.

Luckily, it wasn’t all that unusual to want to hire private detectives and they hadn’t had to say much about their true goals aside from the fact that they were looking for something historical.

“We’re looking for something that would be concrete if it existed already but is fairly esoteric based on the fact that it doesn’t yet exist,” Greg replied sardonically as he swept into motion again. “Frankly, I think we should be relieved Domerin did as much of the leg work as he did. We know we’re looking for a specific member of a specific clan. Theoretically the genealogies and timelines available to us now should make it easier to sort through morass and find the one pebble we need.”

“Again, everything you say makes sense,” Crescent admitted with a hopeless shrug. “But I can’t help wishing we could waltz into some ancient ruin and find the answer we’re looking for painted on a wall.”

“That’s how it works in the movies,” Greg agreed with a light chuckle.

“Domerin would say that the truth is less glamorous,” Crescent murmured.

“That he would,” Greg agreed. “Because that is the way of things, whether we like it or not.”

They both fell silent as they began to mount the slope that would lead to the town resting near the top of the hill. The ground leveled out once they reached the summit of the slope, and a lazy forest pressed up against the back portion of the town. In the morning, when sun dappled the road again, they would slip through those trees in search of the best route to their destination.

Crescent had no idea if he would be able to sleep. Frankly, he doubted rest would come to him. But his stomach rumbled in a way that reassured him a hot meal would be welcome, and they wouldn’t find that if they pressed on.

I just hope this detective agency is worth all the fuss, he declared silently, transforming the thought into a threat against the universe.

Because despite all their meddling, time felt like the one thing they had in short supply.

*   *   *

Crescent was exhausted by the time he and Greg slowed enough to stop producing a dust cloud on the third day of their journey. He had managed to sleep at each of their stops – much to his shock. But only for a few hours each night. Every time he heard even the slightest of sounds, he would start awake and listen in the darkness for the approach of rogue hooves.

Their amulets had not been disturbed. And true to Greg’s assurances, they had been greeted warmly at every police station where they sought assistance. It helped that they were on business for the princess and that Crescent was a well known diplomat throughout the kingdom.

It seemed this timeline wasn’t so different from the last one that had changed.

It was common for their benefactors to ask after Domerin, and each time it happened, the words stabbed Crescent through the chest.

He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know. He didn’t want to stammer out a lie about how Domerin was probably fine when it felt like the farthest thing from the truth.

Luckily, Greg had always been willing to say that he was well but also on important business that called him away – and that usually ended the conversation.

Perhaps the hardest part of this journey was the fact that the lands they traveled looked and felt no different than in the days before the attack on Silvergarden. Once they moved beyond the initial radius of refugees clamoring to find shelter and work in the wake of their displacement, it was easy to imagine that nothing was wrong. In the idyllic small towns set along the paths between major cities, people went about their business without batting an eyelash over the business in the capital. Some people didn’t even know that anything bad had happened.

Crescent carefully swallowed both his rage and sorrow and tried instead to focus on the point of his journey. It wasn’t to educate the regular people of his kingdom about what was happening outside their safe havens. And it wasn’t even really to rescue Domerin from the past, although it was what he held foremost in his mind.

They were all doing this so that Aruvalia could be the best version of itself – a place where everyone could live in the quiet harmony they encountered along these back roads.

The village to which they had come was one of those quiet, quaint little places. But it was located along a hub junction in the road. That meant it was easy to reach from several larger places – and that it wasn’t uncommon for travelers to seek refuge from a long day of travel in one of the regular inns.

This time, they didn’t approach the police station as soon as they entered the town, though regular hours would wrap up shortly. They passed by all the restaurants that offered delectable dishes, even though smelling the scents that drifted through the doors made Crescent’s stomach rumble.

At his own insistence, they went straight to the address they had been given for the “detectives” they hoped to recruit.

There was no sign out front, no post that swayed in the wind or bright billboard to announce the presence of people for hire. In fact, it appeared this group simply operated out of a large, Victorian-style house that Crescent would place money was haunted to some degree. But a brightly colored van parked out front bore the logo of the detective agency and the words Mystery Crew, so he deduced that they had come to the right place.

“I hope this is just their office,” Greg muttered as they passed the driveway and approached the dusty stoop attached to the long porch that circled the front of the property. “I’d hate to think anyone actually lived here.”

His words prompted both ponies to stop and crane their necks as they took in the full measure of the house that stood before them.

This was the end of two streets, which meant the corner lot jutted into an elongated triangle. They would have to trot several feet up the road to spot any of the neighboring houses, and all of them were small enough to be dwarfed by the countenance of this one.

An imposing structure, the house rose three stories and culminated in a tower that loomed one story above the rest. Both the tower and the attic bore impressive dormer windows that protruded from the sloping roofs where aged tiles had begun to peel and crack.

Once a brilliant shade of violet, the outer walls now bore a faded purple-grey sheen. Crescent wouldn’t call it dingy, but it did evoke the idea of age not to mention a property well past its prime. The window trim and shutters might once have been a vibrant shade of emerald, but they too were now faded to a dull and dingy green that reminded Crescent heavily of public works stations.

It might have been his imagination, but he could swear there was also an eerie pall that hung over this portion of the street. When he looked in either direction, he saw bright shafts of sun piercing the clouds to indicate the final descent of the sun hadn’t quite begun. But when he looked directly at the Mystery Crew’s house, it seemed shrouded in shadow, as if it alone was about to be rained on.

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” Crescent murmured as he finally turned and resumed his trek toward the door. “Though if a ghost answers, I’m going to be mighty displeased by the waste of our time.” After he finished screaming and charging down the street.

The stairs leading up to the porch creaked beneath their weight, so Crescent and Greg mounted them one at a time. Greg frowned at the thin boards that lined the aged porch, clearly worried they might give way beneath his hooves. He even glared at them for a moment, threatening them against such an act.

Crescent poked the doorbell set beside the front door. But when it produced no sound, he simply knocked.

A ghost did not answer, though the pony who poked her head through the door was pale enough to pass as one. Crescent couldn’t tell if the light shade of her fur was natural or if she had spent so much time holed up in this dark house, her natural color had faded.

The pale pony didn’t speak. She simply reached up with one hoof to adjust the large, circular-rimmed glasses that sat on her nose. Then she blinked three times as if she wasn’t sure she could see Crescent correctly.

“Hello?” he said and stepped back, thinking that might help the pony focus. “We’re looking for the um… Mystery Crew?” He hated how high-pitched his voice sounded by the end, as if every word was itself a question.

But the pony with the large glasses grinned and said, “That’s us! Want to come in?”

Crescent glanced at Greg and instantly perceived that his answer was a hearty no. But the pale pony vanished back through the door before either of them could give voice to their doubt so, with a sigh, Crescent put his head down and followed her in.

The interior of the house proved much more cozy than its exterior hinted. Inside, the colors were bright and vivid in a way they weren’t outside. The walls were painted in warm earthen hews and bright reds, greens and blues had been used for accents.

The wide foyer they entered was softened by a welcome mat – that bore the word welcome in large bubble letters, and a table set near the door held a large book the pale pony had begun to leaf through.

“I just need your names so we can get started,” she declared as she once again adjusted her large glasses.

“We’d like to start with yours, if you don’t mind,” Greg replied and arched an eyebrow expectantly.

“Me?” The pale pony seemed shocked by the question. But she smiled after a moment and said, “Oh, I’m Thalma.”

Now that he had a chance to gain a better look at her, Crescent could see that her fur was a rich orange-red. It was paler at the hooves and on her face, which meant it was probably a natural coloration. Her mane and tail were a rich red-brown, almost mahogany, and she kept the former cut short.

“What’s this?” another pony demanded as she stuck her head around the corner. This mare had deep purple-colored fur that might almost have matched the exterior of this house when the paint was new. She wore a scarf of rich green around her neck, and her mane was a bright shock of red.

She looked beautiful, though Crescent thought it might have had a lot to do with the grace with which she moved.

“Are these customers?” the new arrival demanded.

“Yes,” Thalma replied. “Though I haven’t gotten their names yet. Oh…” she added sheepishly after a moment, “this is Dalphnie.”

“Hello,” Dalphnie replied and flashed the two of them a grin. Then she leaned back into the hallway she’d come from and yelled, “Bob! Customers!”

“I’m beginning to have second thoughts,” Crescent muttered through clenched teeth, though he leaned close enough to Greg before he spoke that he wouldn’t be overheard.

He could tell by the look that flashed across the police constable’s face he agreed. But his response was, “Too late to back out now.”

Crescent sighed and waved to catch the attention of both mares. “My name is Crescent,” he said in the most pleasant tone he could summon. “And this is Greg,” he added, indicating his companion.

“You have a mystery you need solved?” Dalphnie asked cheerfully. Her tone was almost eager.

“Yes…” Crescent admitted, though he held onto the word a little to express his uncertainty. “Though I’m forced to admit one of the mysteries we need solved is exactly the mystery we’re hoping to answer.”

Two sets of eyebrows arched in unison as the mares gave him an oddly questioning look.

While Crescent groped for words to explain what he was thinking, Greg said, “Listen, we-“

A crash interrupted followed by a bark. Instinctively, both Crescent and Greg shifted so they could glance down the hallway where the noise had come from. A short distance from where they stood, a large, twisting staircase disappeared toward the upper floor. At the base of it there now sat a large, shaggy dog with scruffy black fur and black spots shaking its tail.

The dog rocketed to its feet and shot into the foyer where it rapidly ran a circle around the two guests before it started darting in between Dalphnie and Thalma. Both mares called to the animal, trying to calm it down. But it didn’t stop its mad sprint until a third pony entered the room. He cleared his throat and the dog dropped to the floor between the two mares.

Though it had adopted a resting position on its belly, the dog’s head remained perked upward, its ears darting back and forth – a clear indication it was ready to leap into action again at a moment of notice.

The chaos dealt with to his satisfaction, the new arrival nodded his head before tilting it upward. His fur, Crescent noted, was an almost silken white, though his cutiemark was a stark blue in comparison. His mane and tail were as blond as Crescents, and styled just as richly.

“My name is Bob,” he declared and flashed Crescent a winning smile – he swore he even saw his teeth glimmer for a second. “And the dog is Ruby. She comes with us on all of our mysteries.”

The dog barked when Bob spoke her name and thrashed her tail against the floor for several seconds before evidently realizing she wasn’t being summoned.

Another uncertain look passed between Greg and Crescent.

Was this really the best mystery solving power Aruvalia had to offer in this timeline?

Maybe we messed something up after all.

Not for the first time, Crescent considered backing out of this arrangement and turning to the police. Surely if they mustered the force in every city, they would find what they were looking for in no time at all.

But this wasn’t a typical mystery. They weren’t looking to solve who had committed a crime. There was no murder to trace, no evidence to present.

They were just looking to the obscure answer to a riddle that wouldn’t even sound like a riddle to anyone else.

“As we were saying,” Greg picked up where he’d left off, evidently of the opinion that they had no choice but to muster onward, “we’re looking for something obscure, the answer to a historical riddle. We need a crew who is keenly intelligent and detail oriented to help us determine the result.”

It was no less vague than what Crescent said – at least, in his opinion. But both of the mares nodded as if understanding suddenly dawned on them.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Bob declared and pranced to the side of his two companions. “The truth is, our main source of income comes from exploring the sites of old ruins to determine what may have been going on there. We were just about to leave on another expedition in the morning. Would you care to accompany us?”

Crescent’s jaw fell open. “To a random ruin that might have nothing to do with why we came here?” Didn’t they even want details?

“Well, it’s not just any ruin,” Thalma cut in. She pranced forward slightly and lifted her chin as she settled into speaking about her passion. “Many people think it’s the remains of an old fort erected during the war against the hill folk that ultimately forged Aruvalia into the kingdom it is today. Rumor has it that Nirem Truestrike himself was housed there for several months during the struggle.”

Crescent’s frown vanished, replaced by a wide-eyed shock he couldn’t quite articulate.

They could not possibly have stumbled into the midst of the exact clues Domerin wanted them to look for.

Yet when he turned another questioning look in Greg’s direction, he found the exact same acceptance written into his features.

It made no sense. Yet this is where fate had brought them, so this was where they had to go.

“Actually, those are exactly the kind of details we’re looking for,” he admitted.

“Excellent!” Bob purred. “Why don’t you come join us in the dining room and we’ll go over the details of your mystery. Plus pricing, of course.”

“Of course,” Crescent muttered as he fell into step behind Bob.

But for better or for worse, it seemed they were on the right track. So the only thing to do was once again put his head down and trudge forward.