As Starswirl faced the looming specter of middle age, he found his thoughts turning more and more to writing his memoirs. Not just factual books of his travels to distant corners of the globe, but the story of his life, complete and unabridged. Often while on the road, he'd catch himself thinking about his past as if he were fine-tuning the prose he would one day compose while sitting in his study. So, as he headed back to the mill, he reminisced about the Commune of Roan as if he were putting quill to parchment....
A time of grand dreams and even grander feats. The rebels, sick of living under the hoof of a tyrant, rose up with overwhelming popular support and exiled him. He disappeared from the pages of history, never to be heard from again.
That was twenty-five years ago.
He entered the mill as quietly as he could manage, his horn glowing with very faint blue light to illuminate his way. He paused, listening for the creak of hooves on floorboards over his head. When he didn't hear anything, he crept over to the couch and gently laid his saddlebag down. He magicked the flap open and nosed around in it. He didn't dare take the whole bag with him, in case the objects inside clattered together and gave him away. The only thing he needed was....
Aha!
He pulled out his gold compass by its chain. For a long while, he gazed at the intricate map of the world engraved on the outside of its lid.
The Roanans set out to recreate the republic of old, and for fifteen years they succeeded, he thought wistfully. Warts and all.
He crossed to the center of the living room, still lost in the compass's map.
Yet despite the power struggles and political turmoil, we Varnetians kindled such romantic dreams about the Commune, and held out hope its ideals would spread like wildfire. Even as remnants of the overthrown regime amassed support from their old trading partners and tried to take the city back again and again, the Roanans held their ground for fifteen years with fire in their hearts and a song on their lips. All of the Varnetian Republic wished the best for our sister republic. It seemed like the dawn of a new age, one the sun would never set on.
....maybe we were fools. Yet we were fools together, united by a shared dream.
Starswirl shook his head, then hung the compass around his neck.
Of course, all dreams must end.
I'll never forget the day I returned to Varnice many years after I left on one of my grand adventures. I strode through the marble halls of the Academy, crossed the rotunda, and entered the grand library, only for a most ingenious mare and fellow scholar by the name of Filleonarda da Ponci to inform me the Commune had fallen during my absence.
The grand dream was over. Everypony had woken up.
"Starswirl?"
He roused himself from his memories and saw Clover standing at the top of the stairs, rubbing her eyes.
"You're not leaving, are you?" she asked, a touch of worry in her voice. "You're not sneaking away?"
"No, no," Starswirl said as he attempted a reassuring smile. "I'm just....reminiscing."
"Huh?"
"It means....when you catch yourself thinking heavily about your old memories."
"Oh. What are they about?"
"Couldn't tell you," he said, shrugging. "A pony's brain is about three pounds, but that's the whole thing, and very rarely will you find ponies willing to have their brains removed, even if it is for scientifically determining the weight of a memory."
She scowled. "You're always making these jokes when I want to hear you explain something!"
"There's a reason the theater calls a well-timed joke comic relief. It doesn't do to maintain an air of seriousness for too long."
She frowned at him, only to be interrupted by an enormous yawn.
"Alright," he said relenting. "I'll tell you."
Not wanting to trouble her with the life she could have lived in the Commune of Roan, Starswirl held the compass up in the dim light instead.
"Have you ever heard of Cath-Hay?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"It's a green and verdant land, far away from the realm of ponies, full of wonders beyond imagination. Enormous palaces with whole cities inside, legions of terracotta warriors guarding the tombs of long-gone emperors, philosophy and poetry that would irreparably shatter everything you think you know, exotic silks and spices that melt the tongue...."
"You've been there, then?" Clover asked, her eyes shining.
Starswirl nodded gravely. "Oh, yes. I made the journey with a most amazing pony, a very crafty and, might I add, very beautiful pegasus. Oh, she had a hunger for adventure, she did. Together, we braved the arduous trek."
"How do you get to this place? This Cath-Hay?"
"You must go beyond the ancient and majestic cities of Galleppo, Al-Khamascus, and Camelexandria; cross the rolling Arabican deserts, where the sand stretches as far as your eye can see; traverse Transoxena, the steppes of the oxen, and scale the snow-peaked mountains and monasteries of Bovindia. Only then, halfway across the world, will you come to Cath-Hay, homeland of the qilin, and the riches it holds."
"What's a qilin? Are they like ponies?"
"If you mean physically, yes. They have bodies much like horses or oxen, as well as horns like you and I, but they're also part dragon."
She gasped. "There are dragons in Cath-Hay?"
"Oh, yes. But the dragons of Cath-Hay are not not like the dragons we ponies tell tales about. They are sages and philosophers, dedicated to justice, fairness, and wise rule, as are their children, the qilin. For the most part, that is; they can be very frightening when protective or angered. But all in all, I learned quite a few things from those benevolent and gentle philosophers."
"This Cath-Hay place sounds amazing," Clover whispered breathlessly.
"It is amazing. But the journey is incredibly dangerous. After leaving Karkehran, we almost lost our way in a sandstorm in the Griffavid Empire's fierce deserts, and we would have perished if not for this compass. When we finally returned to Varnice, she gave it to me, as a reminder of the journey we shared. She said if she needed another one, the road would provide." Starswirl found it hard to go on, but he forced the words out nevertheless: "She always....talked about the road as if it were a living thing, how it would take care of all her needs."
And that's true, he thought. It gave Mareco Polo what I couldn't: constant adventure.
"And then what happened?" asked Clover, who'd sat on the stairs and rested her head on the banister.
Starswirl tried to mask the sorrow in his voice. "Well, then she left. Off on another adventure, as she always was."
"Why didn't you go with her? I wouldn't let anything stop me from leaving on an adventure."
His eyes fell to the floorboards. "For her it was about the journey. Always the journey. Me, on the other hoof....it was about learning new things, and spreading them everywhere I went. I wanted to stay in Varnice and write about my travels while they were fresh in my mind, so everypony could know the wonders I had seen. But it takes time and care to craft a book, and she wasn't willing to wait." He sighed heavily. "So I made a choice between my love of spreading knowledge and my love of...."
Her.
"....the adventure. And I'm still living with that choice."
"Aw," Clover said.
Starswirl chuckled. "I don't regret it....except when I do. But holding fast to things we can't change leads nowhere but to our own suffering, so I do not let it bother me. The most important battle we will ever fight, Clover, is the fight for control of ourselves. Most of the time, I don't let my loss dominate me, but we all have our moments of weakness. Moments when we lose control." He smirked at her. "And speaking of self-control, I think we're long past the time when all good little foals should be in bed."
"Oh, please....!"
"Clover, what did I just say? The greatest fight is the fight for control of yourself. That includes going to bed when you don't want to. Now march up those stairs, little filly."
"Alright," she muttered as she climbed the steps. "Goodnight, Starswirl."
"Sleep tight."
He waited until her hoofsteps stopped and the bedsprings creaked, then he laid on the couch and stared at the compass for a little while longer. He opened the lid and gazed at the words engraved on the inside:
Although the winds may change
And bring me to lands strange
Wherever I shall roam
I know you'll guide me home
As Starswirl stared at the inscription, a drop of water fell and splattered all over it. He looked up at the ceiling to see where the leak was, but the wood overhead was dry.
Then where....?
That's when he realized it had been a teardrop.
He closed the compass and let it hang around his neck again. He lay down and cleared his mind, focusing entirely on counting the seconds away until he had reached ten minutes. Then he got up, silently crossed the room, and snuck out the front door.