//------------------------------// // 10. - Fillydelphia // Story: This Nose Knows // by Irrespective //------------------------------// “Uh, Celly, sweetie? Apple of my eye, love of my life?” “I’m not talking to you,” Celestia huffed playfully. “Ok, but can you put me down now?” Baked Bean waved his legs in Celestia’s magic field as if he were doing the breaststroke, but went nowhere other than to continue floating behind his most Royal love. Celestia scrunched her nose, rolled her eyes in thought, and let out a long, thoughtful hum. “No,” she finally declared with a badly-suppressed giggle. “So, do you plan on towing me along in your magic all day?” “Yes,” she replied with a smirk. “It’s your punishment for that little stunt you pulled at sunrise. You’re going to start a doomsday cult somewhere if you keep interrupting me like that.” “Hey, in my defense, I didn’t know you could lose your grip on the sun.” “Now you know,” she replied before pulling him closer and giving his nose a quick kiss. “Where did you even find that thing, anyway?” “They’re in the gift shop, down by the front desk. They were even buy one, get one half-off.” “Oh, great,” she laughed. “That means you have a replacement.” “If I turn it over, will you let me go?” “I’ll let you go anyway,” she replied with another quick kiss, and they both giggled a bit after his hooves settled back onto the ground. “Ponies would wonder what we’re up to if I did keep you suspended all day.” “That they would. I’ll behave.” “I have my doubts about that,” she replied with a laughing scoff. “Shall we have breakfast now?” “I’d like that. What do you think the hotel cooked up for us this morning?” “I do believe it will be omelettes. You did mention that you haven’t had one in some time.” “I do believe you will be right.” A staccato burst of knocks came from the main door, and Wysteria entered after Bean called out for her to enter. Her magic held a large silver tray with two plates of food, and she offered a warm greeting while placing the tray on the nearby table. “Omelettes,” Bean observed thoughtfully. “I guess you win, my sweet?” “I suppose so, but whatever shall I claim for my prize?” she asked with a nip of his ear. “We’ll discuss that later,” he purred. “That we will,” she threatened gleefully. “Wysteria, good morning. How are you?” “Just fine, Princess. I have just a couple of things to go over with both of you,” she replied with a quick shuffle of her paperwork. “Let’s see: the Astronomical Society is whining about the increase and the frequency of solar flares, but I already replied back to them. Princess Cadence reports no changes on the Yakyakstani border, and the most recent envoy was rejected as well.” “Tell them to please keep trying. I don’t want to have them close off their borders for hundreds of moons again,” Celestia replied with a sigh. “I wish we knew what happened. Perhaps Bean and I should make an attempt at reopening the border.” “I would bet Captain Armor and Lieutenant Spear Point would have a wee bit of an issue with that,” Wysteria commented, while squinting to read the next paper in line. “But I will send the message. Next, Luna sends her regards and reports that all is well in Canterlot, and she hopes you have enjoyed your stay in Fillydelphia. She looks forward to your return this evening, and she also says that trying to paint Prince Blueblood is very difficult, since he won’t hold still.” “Does Luna paint too?” Bean asked. “No,” Celestia said with a knowing sigh. “She is trying to paint Blueblood.” “Oh. So if I ever see her with a paint can, I should run?” “That would be a wise course of action.” Celestia shook her head and smiled. “What else do you have, Wysteria?” “One last thing. I have confirmed the details for your visit to the Writer’s Convention, and I have also confirmed that A.K. Yearling will be the final keynote speaker. She has agreed to meet with you after her speech.” “The A.K. Yearling?” Bean asked. “Wow. I’d heard she was a recluse and didn’t do conventions.” “That depends on how you define ‘do conventions,’” Celestia replied. “She will make some brief appearances at events like this when she has a new book coming out, but otherwise she avoids them.” “Have you ever met her?” “I have had the opportunity to meet her before, yes. I believe I even have an autographed copy of each of her books.” “Woah. Does Luna have autographed books too?” “We don’t share everything,” said Celestia with a raised eyebrow. “She had to get her own. But, I will let you look at my copies when we return.” “I should probably read them, too.” Bean remarked thoughtfully. “It should be fairly easy to get you a reading copy,” Celestia offered. “You haven’t read the Daring Do series?” Wysteria asked. “I just couldn’t get into it.” Bean shrugged. “I think I got a third of the way through the Sapphire Statue and that was it.” “May I humbly suggest you try again?” “I suppose I could. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind at the time.” “I can believe that, given what I know about your history, but I think you’ll be more interested in them after your meeting with Miss Yearling,” Wysteria offered with a knowing glance over to the Princess. “Indeed. I am most curious to see what your thoughts are regarding the mystery mage in her fourth book,” Celestia added with a wink for her secretary. “Anything else, Wysteria?” “No, that’s all I have for now, other than letting you know the carriage is prepped and ready to go whenever you are.” “Thank you,” Celestia replied. “We will be down shortly.” “Are you really sure you want to go to this writer’s thing?” Bean asked while Wysteria made her exit. “I get the feeling you agreed just because I said it would be fun to check it out.” “I do want to go, and not just because you said that,” she replied as she began to portion out her meal. “It will be good to have other writers and editors look over your work.” “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” “Yes, but second opinions are always valuable, especially on your first work. The ponies who will be in attendance today will give you ideas and suggest methods of phrasing and prose that even I might not think of. I believe this will help broaden your writing horizons, and there is even the possibility that you will inspire writing yourself.” “I could?” “There have been many times when one writer will help another’s own tale, or when their words will give another a spark of inspiration. Miss Yearling, in fact, was inspired to try her hoof at writing after reading Drifting Down the Lazy River and the Dragon King series.” “Huh. So, I can help others while they help me?” Celestia smiled and nodded. “The same principle works well in government, too.” “That makes sense,” he replied with a sigh. “I still feel a bit nervous about showing off my work, though.” “It is difficult to expose that part of you, I will agree. It is because this is something personal, something that you have offered from your heart and soul. It is a risk you will take as a writer, and it is a virtual guarantee that somepony will outright hate your work. But you cannot improve if you do not try, and even in failure, you can learn.” Bean nodded while he mulled over his wife’s words. “You are right, as always. Have you ever considered a secondary career as a motivational speaker?” “I hope I am motivational all the time.” “You certainly are for me,” Bean replied with a growing smile. “And now, I do believe I am motivated to eat.” * * ✹ * * Bean held his papers a little closer to his chest, and his eyes drifted over the various booths and tables that meandered throughout the Grand Ballroom of the convention center. He was still eager to peruse the offerings of the various vendors, of course, but there was no denying that he was having second thoughts about letting another pony read his mush. “Where shall we begin, my love?” Celestia asked, while her eyes swept over the offerings as well. “I’m not sure. I think maybe over there?” He replied with a nod over towards the far end of the hall. “You’re nervous about letting somepony else read your work, aren’t you?” “Ah! You said the word!” Bean gasped before laughing with her. “All right, yes. I am. I mean, it’s one thing to let you read it. You love me, and you’ve always been super kind and nice about correcting my mistakes. I guess I worry that other ponies won’t be like that.” “It is possible,” Celestia replied with a wise and understanding nod. “Each pony is free to evaluate your work in their own way, but you are also free to withhold your work from them. If you do not wish to, then I will say nothing more on the matter.” Bean drew in a long breath, then exhaled quickly. “No. I trust you, and since you believe it would be good for me to let others look at my work, I will do it. Just hold me when I start crying, ok?” “I’ll hold you anyway,” she replied with a quick kiss, “and I’ll banish anypony who speaks ill of your work to a prison in the Everfree Forest that I will construct for that express purpose.” “I feel bad for that pony,” Bean offered while looking over the hall again. “So, who would do well in prison? Let’s see.” They both then began walking through the crowd and among the booths with no clear purpose. Bean wasn’t even really sure what he was looking for, but it seemed like he would know it when he saw it, whatever ‘it’ was. The convention did seem to hold just about everything a pony could need for writing, however one interpreted that, and Bean found himself awash in pencil and paper suppliers, binding companies, publishing houses, illustrators, promoters, agents, and even a pulp-to-paper conversion company. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the layout or the setup of the booths, and it was a bit hard at times to tell who was selling what. Bean was grateful that the ponies they were mingling with didn’t seem to be too overawed by his wife’s presence. Most ponies simply offered a courteous dip of their head before attempting to sell their wares when the two of them approached a booth and looked over the offering. Bean then came to a stark realization: this was going to take quite some time. Celestia was making a clear point of visiting every booth, in what was, presumably, an effort not to play favorites or to give one pony the advantage of claiming to have caught her eye, so it was a bit of a slog while they both moved from one pony to another. He did have to admit it was quite informative, and he was learning quite a bit about books and publishing as he went along, but he was a bit disheartened to see there were no proofreaders or editors within sight. After a couple of hours of this, however, Bean was finally rewarded for his patience. Contrary to his prior assessment, there was a method to the madness in the hall; they had started in the publishing section and were now wandering towards the editors. Bean felt his apprehension and his excitement begin to notch up when the first proofreader came into view, and he began shuffling his papers while they walked up to the booth. “Didn’t spend much money on his display, did he?” Bean remarked. The tanish yellow pony—who was standing quickly and looking a bit pleased with their approach—was behind what appeared to be a large cardboard box, with the simple statement of Frank appraisal of your work(s) : 2 Bits scrawled across the front in bold, black letters. “Perhaps not, but it is effective,” Celestia replied. “I believe he shall give you an honest review.” “Your Highnesses, good afternoon!” the vendor proclaimed with a deep bow. “Thank you for coming here today, and for your interest in my services. Do you have something to me to review for you? I would love to look over your work.” Bean hesitated, but after catching an encouraging smile from Celestia he took another deep breath and slowly handed over his bundle of papers. “I’ve got a few stray ideas in there, and the beginnings of a book that I want to write. Celestia has been helping me, but I would like to get the opinions of others. I doubt it’s very good, though.” “Well, let me see,” the vendor replied with a quick glance at the middle of the pile. “If Celestia has been helping you then I would bet it’s practically perfect in every way.” “Just a moment,” Celestia interrupted. “Your… box, I suppose, says that your services cost two bits.” “For Your Highnesses, I can waive that fee. It’s no problem.” “No, I insist,” Celestia replied, and two bits appeared with a flash of her magic. “It is always important to pay for the services one receives. What is your name, good sir?” “I’m Quibble Pants, Princess.” “And what are your qualifications?” “I’m so glad you asked! I hold a master’s degree from the Baltimare School of Modern Art in Equish with an emphasis in Journalism, and I am currently employed at Hoofton Muffin as a secondary adjunct editor. I am also the president of the Daring Do Fan Club Local 4077, and I’m a voracious writer of high quality fan fiction, if I do say so myself. I’ll show you some of my work, if you’d like.” “Perhaps you can send a sample home with us,” Celestia replied with a kind note in her words. “Now, what can you tell us about Prince Bean’s writing?” “Excuse me, Princess?” a guard cut in. “Yes, Corporal?” “Miss Inkwell needs to borrow you for one moment for some kind of authorization.” “Duty calls, eh?” Bean offered with a nip of her neck. “As always. This should only take a moment, though. I’ll be right back.” Bean nodded before turning back to Quibble. “So, what do you think?” “Well, let me see,” Quibble replied while his eyes began darting over the first page. “Be honest, please. Don’t hold back just because I’m the Prince.” “Hey, if I advertise frank assessments, then a frank assessment is what you’ll get,” he retorted. “Huh. So, I guess this is a description of the train station in Canterlot. Why did you write it?” “I was going to submit it as a tour guide description.” “Huh. Well, it’s not very descriptive, is it?” “I thought it was,” Bean replied with a lean to look over his words. “What do you mean?” “You want this to be in one of those little booklets, right? Well, this is more like an encyclopedia entry. I mean, if I wanted a physical description of the building this would be adequate, but it doesn’t really motivate me to go visit the terminal.” “So, what could I do to make it better?” “I would start with being more descriptive. Show me, don’t tell me, in essence. Make me see it, give me a reason to keep reading and to be interested. Write to your audience. Since this is for a tourist, you want to paint the scene for them in vibrant colors, give them a reason to come visit.” Quibble quickly grabbed a pencil and a loose piece of paper from somewhere behind his box. “Here, something like this: “If one wishes to make the pilgrimage to the shining city of Canterlot then they must first pass through the gateway that is The Grand Station.” Quibble wrote as fast as he spoke, and Bean was impressed that he could do both at the same time. “If the Castle is the head, one will quickly be forced to say that the bustling station is the beating heart, with more than two dozen tracks converging to bring the very lifeblood of this city; the ponies of Equestria. “Those who do deign to visit this premier hub will have a view that the everyday commuter is scarcely aware of, provided they take the time to appreciate the grandiose vaulted ceilings, with their panes of marigold tinted glass framed by girders of solid steel closing overhead, sealing in the sounds of the city in motion. “The walls themselves appear to be a plain red brick, mortared with white, but a keen eye will appreciate how an old classic will always work to fill the need of sturdy architecture. Even the perfectly sheened marble floors appear to keep deep secrets. It is only in the early hours of the morning, when one’s hoofsteps can be heard bouncing off the walls and echoing back to the walker in a sort of unseen tennis match, that one could possibly find the hidden meaning of life itself.” “Wow,” Bean remarked in awe. “That’s really good.” “It’s a start,” Quibble replied while he looked over the words. “But I’d probably go through and then try to play up the hidden elements, like the ceiling for example. Always try to go over your work two or three times, even if you have an editor, but then step away from it for a little bit and then look it over again. You’ll see things you missed the first time around that way.” “I hadn’t thought of that.” Bean continued to scan the new description in a deeply contemplative state. “How hard is it to find a good editor?” “You’re in the right place for a start.” Quibble smirked. “Just ask around. I don’t think it’ll be much of a problem for you.” Bean gave a quick laugh. “Probably not.” “Fillies and Gentlecolts, gather ‘round!” a bombastic voice suddenly flooded the hall. “It’s just about time for another demonstration! Hurry, hurry, it’s standing room only, my friends!” Quibble let out a deeply annoyed groan. “This pony again? I was hoping he’d packed up and left by now.” “Who is it?” Bean asked with a glance around the hall. “A fat headed unicorn named Flam. He’s peddling some sort of document editing machine. I think it’s a bunch of smoke and mirrors, but nopony will listen to me.” “Flam? Seems like I’ve heard that name before.” Bean rubbed his chin. “I’ll be right back. I’d like to go see what he’s got.” “No problem, I’ll look over the rest of your papers in the meantime.” Bean nodded quickly and trotted over towards a brightly lit stage that he was pretty sure hadn’t been there when he had first entered the hall. A sizeable crowd was already standing around and gawking at the metallic monstrosity that occupied the greater portion of the elevated platform, and Bean had to admit it looked rather shiny. “I hope he picks my story this time!” a pink unicorn announced with barely contained excitement from his side. “I want to see what it says I need to fix.” “Fix?” Bean repeated, but his question went unanswered when a yellow unicorn in a striped vest, straw hat and handlebar moustache proudly pranced out onto the stage. “Fillies and Gentlecolts, old and young, one and all! I am the Fabulous Flam, and you are all now about to witness one of the greatest marvels of our modern era! I have here a device, a wondrous machine, a technological breakthrough that will revolutionize writing forever!” “Revolutionize writing, hm?” Bean muttered to himself. “That’s right, my friends, this device here will solve all of your editorial problems, once and for all!” The snazzy salespony gave the device a quick pat of the hoof. “By utilizing the latest and greatest proprietary mechanics, this humble little machine can make any document divine, any novella a novelty, and any story shine! Simply feed any writing that needs a little fix-me-up into the slot right here, and within just a few moments, you will have yourself one professionally edited document for your publication pleasure!” “Huh, that would be amazing if it worked.” “Now, I know what you’re all thinking,” Flam swept a hoof dramatically before the crowd, “it’s one thing to say, but what about the actual do? Well, good friends, have no fear! I am prepared to offer an extended demonstration of this delightful device, for the nominal cost of just five bits! That’s right, for a mere pittance and in a fraction of the time of a ‘professional’ editor,” and he made a great show about making air quotes with his hooves, “the Editing Emulsifier Two Thousand can give you—yes, even you—the high quality results your hard work deserves. Now, who would like to go first?” “Me!” the pink unicorn beside Bean sprang up and rushed the stage. “Do mine! Please, please, please?!” “My good filly, it would be a delight!” Flam said with a grin that was a little bit too sincere, and he swiftly took both the bundle of papers and the payment from the eager participant. “Now, we simply feed your papers into the slot on the side, and watch the Editing Emulsifier Two Thousand do its thing!” “Ooh, I can’t wait!” A great deal of clanking and whirring emitted from the contraption once the papers had been fed in. Gears ground, pistons pumped, steam whooshed, and an impressive display of arcing electricity danced in the vacuum tubes that adorned the top of the device. It only took a minute or so of this before the papers emerged from the other side, and the young volunteer giggled madly as she looked over the results. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I never even saw that! This is amazing!” Several more ponies then pressed forward, each clamoring to have their own work run through the machine and without a thought to the price. Flam graciously took the bits while calling for calm, but his smooth movements suddenly paused when he found a certain yellow prince standing before him in the crowd with a scowl. “So, what are the limitations of this machine?” Bean asked flatly. “Limits, my Prince?” Flam replied with a grand bow. “Why, there is no limit at all! Any written word can be sent through the Editing Emulifi—” “Yeah, great.” Bean cut him off. “But how does it work, exactly?” “It works quite admirably, my Prince!” Flam replied with a grand motion towards his device. “Why, the Editing Emulsifier Two Thousand can even autocorrect those stuffy laws you find yourself battling day in and day out!” “Right. Say, where is your brother?” “Flim?” Flam replied, and he swept his hat off and placed it over his heart. “I am pleased to report I have parted ways with my rather dubious brother, good Sire. I am on the straight and narrow, a path that my brother never cared to tread. I assure you my intents are pure.” “Oh, is that so?” Bean mulled this for a moment. “And do you guarantee the results of this thing?” “Of course! The results of the Editing Emulsifier Two Thousand are bona fide certified to be accurate and honest.” “Ah, well. That’s good to hear,” Bean replied with a sigh of relief. “So, surely you won’t mind if Princess Celestia looks over the results of your machine?” Flam’s eyes shrank to pinpricks. “P-p-princess Celestia?” “That is what most ponies call me,” the Princess replied while walking up behind her husband. A soft smile was offered to the pink unicorn before she continued. “What is your name, my little pony?” “Feather Duster, Your Highness.” “May I see what corrections the machine suggested?” “Sure! Here!” She offered the papers with a slight squeal. “Princess Celestia is looking over my story!” “Oh, Mister Flam!” Bean called out. “Where are you going?” Sergeants Pokey and Clover were more than happy to block Flam’s attempt at a stage right retreat. A silent glare made the salespony gulp, and Bean could only imagine he would rather be anywhere but there. “I was simply going to, um, step aside for a moment, you know, while—” “Say, while we have a moment, let me ask you something,” Bean hopped up onstage and faced the moustache. “Four years ago, you and your brother were in the dishwasher business, right?” “I do believe we were, Your Highness.” “And in that self same year, you and your brother visited the small hamlet of Salt Lick, did you not?” “We may have,” he replied with a nervous tug on his collar. “What was that dishwasher called again?  The Squeaky Clean Auto… something?” “—Automated Liquid Dishwasher Unit 3000.” “Ah yes, the S.C.A.L.D.U. That’s the one.”  Bean rubbed the inner part of his left foreleg at the particularly rueful memory.  “I remember you told my father that it was called the ‘three thousand’ because it could do three thousand pieces in an hour.” “Now, see, that was an upper limit. It was never—” “Funny thing about that machine of yours. It sprayed cold water around pretty well, and it hummed a nice little tune while it did so.” “I believe it is rather difficult to wash dishes adequately with cold water alone,” Celestia offered without taking her eyes off the paper in front of her. “Nigh impossible, really. Oh, the pressure took off the larger particles, but we found that ponies really didn’t like tasting the prior meal, and the health inspector wasn’t very keen on the lack of sanitary scrubbing. A failing grade is bad for business, you know.” “Ah, well that would be another one of my brother’s unscrupulous cutting of corners.” “It wasn’t much of a dishwasher, but it sure did a wonderful job cleaning the floors, and the walls, and the ceiling, and me, when the water temperature went high enough to make the hoses burst. I suppose we should have realized the thing would live up to its name. I think I still might be missing a patch of fur on my right hock from the incident.” “Your Highness, while I sympathize with your plight, the S.C.A.L.D.U. was delivered in pristine condition, and I have no way to verify that it was installed properly. The defects you mentioned most likely arose due to operator error, incorrect installation, and/or a possible cross of the streams.” “Oh, really?” Bean replied. “Well, then, I guess the four appliance repairponies and the six plumbers we contacted to get your lemon working again were all wrong in their universal denouncement of the construction of your contraption? We kept the repair bills and their written assessments, so perhaps once we look those over you can tell me what happened, right?” Bean imagined it was rare for Flam to be at a loss for words. “Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, why don’t we try this again: how does this editing machine work?” “A most worthy question,” Celestia replied, and she joined her husband’s side with a matching scowl. “The first page of this document is only half correct in the errors it indicates, but every page after that is meaningless red marks. Please open up the machine and allow us to see what makes it work.” Bean could see the look of utter defeat in Flam’s eyes while he slowly pulled on the top corner of the device. The whole side wall was gently folded down, and once Bean got a good look at the inner works, he gasped in delight. “Why, Mister Flim!” he greeted the bashfully smiling unicorn. “What a completely expected surprise to find you in there!” * * ✹ * * As it turned out, the latest Flim Flam scam was rather novel, if somewhat poorly executed. A thorough search of the fraudulent contraption revealed a high-quality camera, dozens of rolls of film—some exposed and some not—a case of red pencils, and one twin brother. The plan was simple: Flim would take the papers, quickly photograph the pages, and then give the first page of whatever had been submitted a quick edit before scribbling on the other pages with red pencil, then feed the ‘fixes’ back out. Once the convention was over, the brothers had planned to recreate the works from the photographs and present them as their own for publication. Had they been successful, they could have been set for years in royalties alone. But it had all been undone by one meddling Bean and his Princess, too. In the end, the brothers refunded the cost of their ‘edits’, watched as their film was cheerfully pulled out and tossed around like streamers by the guards with whoops of childlike delight, and then sent on their way to Salt Lick—with supervision—to refund the cost of the S.C.A.L.D.U. to Duke Garbanzo. Bean was annoyed and disappointed when he found he had missed A.K. Yearling’s speech while sorting all of this out, but he did feel a bit better when he and Celestia entered one of the private rooms to await Miss Yearling’s visit. It was a fair consolation prize, and perhaps he could get a transcript of what she had told the crowd. She was bound to have a few pointers he could use to help his own writing. “So, what did they need your authorization for?” Bean asked his love while they waited. “Wysteria was able to locate a full set of the Daring Do series for sale, and she needed my approval to purchase them. It’s another one of those silly laws that I need to revise, the number of bits that Wysteria is allowed to spend in my behalf is set too low.” “How many ‘silly laws’ are there that need to be fixed?” “I’m inclined to say all of them,” she replied with a snort of amusement. “But now you can read the whole series at your leisure. Perhaps Miss Yearling will even be kind enough to autograph them for you.” “Well, thank you,” he replied with a quick nip of her neck. “We’ll call them an early birthday present.” “Is your birthday coming up?” she asked with a small squee of delight. “Amusingly enough, it’s exactly two weeks after yours.” “Ah!” Celestia cheered with a nuzzle for him. “That makes it easy to remember then, doesn’t it?” “That it does,” he replied with a hum of satisfaction, while returning the nuzzle. They shared a quick kiss when the door swung open, and Bean was a bit disappointed with the first impression of the venerable A.K. Yearling. She seemed timid and meek, her steps were quiet and thoughtful, and her eyes swept over the room in what appeared to be concern from behind her red-rimmed glasses. “Miss Yearling, thank you so much for meeting with us on such short notice,” Celestia warmly offered as the door shut. “I trust things have been well for you as of late?” Bean sat up a bit straighter. Now that it was just her and them, Miss Yearling’s demeanor had perked up noticeably, and a playful twinkle was dancing in her eyes. What was going on? “Never better, Princess, never better.” “I’m glad to hear that. Allow me to introduce you to my husband, if I may. Miss Yearling, this is Prince Baked Bean, and Bean, this is Miss Yearling. However, you may also know her by her more popular alias:” Miss Yearling then whipped off her shawl and hat with a dramatic swoop, and her glasses were tossed to one side with a quick shake of her head. “Daring Do, at your service,” Miss Yearling grandly finished, and with a bow. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.” “Wait, wait, wait.” Bean shook his head to try and help him process what he had just seen. “Daring Do is real?” “As real as you are, my Prince,” Celestia began to gently explain, “and her novels are not fiction. The stories are real-life events.” “All that stuff really happened?!” Bean replied in awe. “I might add a few embellishments here and there,” Daring Do replied with a short laugh, “but only to enhance the story. Otherwise, yes, everything you read is true.” “Wow. I really need to read them now.” “You haven’t read my books?” Daring replied in shock. “That’s going to change pretty quickly, I assure you.” “Huh. Been a long time since I’ve met a pony who doesn’t know my stories inside and out.” “Your first book came out during a difficult point in my beloved’s life,” Celestia replied. “He wasn’t able to fully appreciate the tale.” “Fair enough.” Daring shrugged. “I’m afraid I do need to make this quick, Princess. I’m due for a book signing in an hour across town.” “Of course. What do you have to share with us?” Bean was then privy to one of the greatest meetings he had ever had the pleasure to sit through. Daring Do laid out the main points of her latest struggle against the dreaded but somewhat dim-witted Ahuizotl and his minions, and how she had managed to claim the fabled Bridle of Athena just before the Temple of Themys had caved in on itself. It was unclear if Ahuizotl had been crushed in the collapse, but both Celestia and Daring were of the opinion that he most likely had survived and would be back to cause more havoc. “Good villains never really disappear, I’ve noticed,” Bean added once the tale had been told. “But I guess that means you’ll never have a shortage of stories to write.” “That is one perk, but I really wouldn’t mind if he’d lay off the apocalyptic plans for world domination for a while,” Daring replied with an annoyed huff. “Is there anything that we can do to assist you in your endeavors?” Celestia asked. “I can have a company of guards sent up to help patrol the jungle, if you’d like.” “Nah, that’s ok.” Daring waved a dismissive hoof. “I got this. There’s no need to tie up valuable resources with the likes of Ahuizotl.” “Very well,” Celestia replied with a nod. “But please remember that the offer stands. I am more than happy to send whatever resources I can to help you in your quests.” “I’ll keep that in mind, and thank you. I’ll be sure to contact you immediately if I do need reinforcements.” “I appreciate that. However, our time is nearly spent, and I would hate to keep you from your fans.” “Yeah, I should be going,” Daring agreed while donning her shawl and glasses again. “My agent will have a fit if I’m late.” “Thank you for your time, Miss Do,” Bean added. “But before you go, could I ask a quick favor?” Daring Do chuckled with Celestia. “You bet. Do you have a quill?” * * ✹ * * “‘To Baked Bean, never give up on your writing dreams. You can go far if you’ll only try.’” “A wise statement,” Celestia offered while she settled in and draped her wing over him. “It is. I can’t help but wonder what other surprises you have in store for me, though.” “They wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, now would they?” Celestia laughed. “I suppose not,” he added with a matching chuckle. “Would you like me to read to you?” “I would love that, my Bean.” Celestia gave him a quick nuzzle and a nip of his ear. “The story will undoubtedly come to life with your voice as the narrator.” “You can give me some acting lessons next, if not,” he replied with a warm smile. “Let’s see. ‘Daring Do and the Quest for the Sapphire Stone,’ by A.K. Yearling. Wait, have I been saying it wrong this whole time?” Celestia smiled while her magic pulled her copy of the story from a nearby bookshelf. “A.K. Yearling first published the Sapphire Stone in Trottingham with the title of the Sapphire Statue, as you can see on my copy. When it was published here, the title was changed. Both are correct.” “Phew, ok,” he replied. “Nothing worse than getting the title of a book wrong, is there?” “Indeed not,” Celestia chuckled, and both of them hummed while she rested her head on his. “Let’s see. ‘Chapter 1: The Pegasus Who Lived. It was a dark and stormy night…’”