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// Witcher Geralt Insults Royalty By Accident And Then On Purpose 
// Story: Librarian Twilight Tries To Befriend A Newcomer To Equestria But He's Geralt The White Wolf And Doesn't Really Get Friendship 
// by SoloBrony 
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Geralt strode back to Ponyville with a healthy sack of 'bits' – so the Equestrians called their golden coins – jangling from his belt. He knew the symptoms of his witchers' herbs would kick in eventually, but he had a few hours before that.

Let's see... based on what Rarity told me about prices in this economy, this should be enough bits to put me up in a decent inn-room for a few months, if it comes to that. Despite his name, Ornery was quite generous – the kind of pay I'd expect a knight or human to make for a life-threatening enterprise. Hardly what I'm used to.

But the witcher did not make for the inn; instead, he headed for the gaudy crystal-palace-library thing, in hopes Princess Sparkle had returned from her journey. He strode into the palace, marveling for the second time that there were no guards posted to keep everyone out, and made his way to the library once again. He immediately spotted Twilight carefully reshelving books, flying from stack to stack, and smiled to himself.

This one certainly takes her job seriously. Looks like those wings aren't just for show after all. Magic's involved; gotta be. There's no way they could sustain themselves in the air at that pace otherwise.

Geralt quietly seated himself at the table he had made into an impromptu alchemy workbench, and began work. After a short while, Twilight spied him and flew over to speak.

"Welcome back, Geralt. Things with the manticore... uh, things go well?"

Geralt pondered that, and nodded.

"Creature's gone, and I was paid well."

Twilight fidgeted a bit, but stayed silent.

Something's bugging her. Hmm... guessing by Ornery's response...

"I didn't kill the manticore, if that's your concern, Twilight."

Twilight started at that, and stammered a response.

"Oh! Er, I didn't want to... I mean, it's not that I think you're, y'know, violent, but, you've got those swords, and you were making a toxic oil, and at first I didn't realize what it was for, but..."

Geralt nodded, smirking as he worked, crushing herbs in a mortar.

"The oil was for killing manticores, that's true. But I only kill when I think it's necessary; usually, a manticore is such a threat that everyone would prefer for it to be removed, but this one seemed... largely harmless."

Twilight took a seat across from him. When Geralt glanced up from his task, he saw she was smiling brightly.

"I'm really glad to hear that. You seemed like a good person, but I guess I just wondered if I'd been naive."

Geralt shook his head while he carefully set up a beaker with a potent acid mixture.

"You weren't naive. Killing is my job, Twilight. These swords aren't for show."

Twilight looked a bit crestfallen at that, and fidgeted in place.

"The world you come from... it's a violent one?"

"Very."

"So people need witchers like you to protect them from the monsters, right? You're like a hero."

Geralt actually laughed at that, despite himself.

"No, Twilight. I'm a professional. I kill for money, not out of nobility."

Twilight squinted at him, a smirk slowly forming on her face. Geralt wasn't at all sure he liked that look.

"So you mean to say you've never stood up for the defenseless without pay, even at danger to yourself?"

Geralt almost reflexively denied it; after all, were a witcher to admit they had worked without pay, that would open the door to all sorts of mischief. Getting paid was hard enough as it was for his kind.

But the witcher thought better of it; the ponies had shown him kindness and generosity, and Twilight hadn't been put off even by his blunt discussion of his trade. He sighed and relented with a faint growl.

"I have. I prefer not to speak of it, because every skinflint peasant would pounce on the opportunity to cheat me if they thought I was soft like that. But it's true; I take pride in my work, protecting folk, even when they don't deserve it. I try to make the world a better place; lord knows it needs it."

Twilight nodded, and gently reached a hoof across the table, pressing it to one of Geralt's hands. The gesture shocked him, but he stayed motionless.

"Things must be hard for you, back home. The way you talked about being a witcher, the way you act... people don't treat you well, do they? Because you're different?"

"Mhm."

"Well, things aren't like that here in Equestria. I mean... there are a few folks who are jerks, but everyone has to put up with the occasional jerk."

"What about changelings?"

Geralt had shot that out with barely a thought, and immediately regretted it.

Twilight could figure out what was up with that manticore, if I'm not careful.

Twilight reeled back slightly in surprise.

"Changelings? What about them?"

"You were saying ponies don't discriminate. So... what about changelings?"

Twilight opened and closed her mouth a few times, and then looked away.

"The changelings... how much do you know about them?"

Geralt slowly pulled his hand from Twilight's hoof and resumed his alchemy work.

"Not much. But I didn't ask about their history; I was just asking if your magnanimity extends to them."

"Of course it does!"

Twilight's wings flared suddenly, and Geralt glanced up in surprise to see her frowning and staring at him plaintively. The witcher chose his next words carefully.

"So... you mean to say that you don't bear a grudge against their kind?"

"No! I mean, yes? I don't! Some ponies might – well, some ponies do – but I'm friends with Thorax!"

Geralt became incensed despite himself.

"So you have one changeling friend? That's your argument?"

Twilight blinked a few times, confused.

"Thorax is the leader of the changelings, Geralt. What I meant is that I'm friends with him, and I try to work to help changeling-pony relations. To help them better their image, help him run the hive."

Geralt leaned back, looking Twilight over. She didn't seem angry; instead, she just seemed hurt. It wasn't the kind of response Geralt was accustomed to.

Fighting, I'm used to – verbal or otherwise. Usually when I press someone on their wrongdoing, they explode on me.

The two watched each other in silence for a few moments, before Geralt finally put two and two together and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Twilight... what's your last name?"

"Sparkle. Why?"

"As in... Princess Sparkle?"

Twilight blinked a few times, and then she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Darn. I was hoping you already knew, and didn't care. Or that we could carry on like this longer."

Geralt groaned, resuming his work at the table.

"So you've just held that out on me, huh? Any reason for that?"

"People treat me differently when they find out. I kinda just wanted to, y'know... talk. Be friends."

For a sovereign, she certainly seems humble. Maybe political figures don't work the same way, here.

"Fine by me, if that's what you'd prefer. I've spent plenty of time in the company of royalty; if I ever held any wonder at the idea of it, it wore off a long, long time ago. Don't know that I'd make a good friend, though."

Twilight cocked her head to the side.

"What do you mean? You've just admitted that you're generous, and your concern for the changelings proves you've got a kind heart... why wouldn't you be a good friend?"

The witcher sighed as he worked.

How'd I give her the impression I'm such a nice guy?

"It takes more than basic decency to be a good friend."

"Like what?"

Geralt groaned as he continued.

"Real friendship takes loyalty, commitment, and a sense of camaraderie. You can't just be book-club friends or drinking mates – though you should be that, too – you have to actually give a damn."

Twilight's irritating smile just grew deeper and deeper as Geralt spoke.

Damnit, I feel like I've walked into some kind of trap.

"Being honest and straightforward is important, too, wouldn't you say?"

Geralt eyed her suspiciously, and answered slowly.

"Of course. If you're not honest with your friends, you're not really friends – sort of like how you concealed your identity from me, in a sense, and that compromised the legitimacy of our relationship."

Despite trying to get a rise out of her, Twilight just gave a playful eyeroll before speaking.

"Whereas you've been honest from the start, even though witchers generally get mistreated. It sounds like you know an awful lot about friendship, Geralt."

Geralt just gave a grunt in response as he worked, hoping the pony would stop her insufferable smiling. She didn't – and, deep down, Geralt was somewhat pleased.

Very deep, beneath all of the irritation, and his own embarrassment at having flung a baseless accusation at someone who had been nothing but charitable towards him.

Twilight, for her part, just snickered and looked over his apparatus.

"So, what are you making now?"

"White honey. It's a mix that will help with the toxicity from the herbs I took. Make it easier to rest them off."

"You ate toxic herbs? Why?"

"It's a witcher practice. The herbs give us greater focus, endurance, pain resistance, strength, that sort of thing. I also drank a potion to protect me from the manticore's venom."

Twilight frowned as she watched him work.

"So you have to poison yourself in order to fight the monsters where you're from?"

"That's what it takes, sometimes."

"And... you don't get paid well. Sometimes you don't get paid at all, from the sounds of it."

"Mhm."

"That's... really sad, Geralt. It sounds like your world is a terrible place."

Geralt, having finished his mixture, poured the eggshell-colored liquid into a small bottle.

"Can't deny that. Especially compared to this place."

He slugged back the sweet-tasting liquid, and gave it a second to settle before continuing.

"And that's why it needs me."