The school day felt like a distraction. It was something to get through to arrive at the true mission. Truly, it was as if I had found a higher calling. Everything in me had resisted being dragged into a sappy friendship quest. However, the more I turned it over in my head the less I hated it.
It’s a responsibility. I didn’t realize how much I had missed those. Being protected so long, not being able to initiate events, having a daily tax on my time.
A lot of my responsibilities had been outsourced. Being a foal sucked, but rather than ruminating on that, I had turned my energy towards figuring a way to get out the door of the schoolhouse as soon as possible. Little Pinion was an easy choice. He was so obvious about his crush on me that he normally got shy and left halfway through making a request. So when I was in a hurry to adjourn my court, he was an easy choice.
That’s one down.
Now I needed to just find the lesser evil among the sea of clamoring hooves. Amongst them, I saw one capped with a silver fetlock that seemed out of place. For a moment I was interested in why I was seeing it for only the second time while on the job; then, I remembered that hoof’s owner was blackmailing me.
“Oh, right, Pestle. Your turn.”
This was met with the usual groans of disappointment from those not selected. While the princess treatment had gotten somewhat less overwhelming, by no means had an interest in me and my “services” faded.
Over protests, I once more granted the filly alchemist a private discussion.
Upon arriving at the back of the schoolhouse, I waited for her to take charge. I wondered what it could be—a further deduction of my true nature? A scheme to use me to make a few bits?
For some reason, I became more at ease as the silence continued. Even though she did have all the power. However, she looked… nervous.
“It kinda defeats the purpose of privacy if you’re still afraid of telling me,” I chided, impatience outweighing my lack of confidence.
“All right, all right, what I want—well. I don’t want anything big. I’m just… well, would you be my friend?
I had to struggle not to laugh or show exasperation. Why was it always friendship?
“Why me? I’m a non-Equestrian—from a different dimension even. You don’t know who I am, or even if I’m someone you would like.”
“Cool.” she said, simply.
That threw me off guard.
“You… huh?” I finally managed.
“You're really cool. I mean, most of the ponies in the school are a little too… should I say—uninspired? They just go along with the whole routine without giving thought to what they actually want.”
I winced. That was me for most of my time here!
“Yeah, I can see what you mean,” I said softly, hoping she wouldn’t read me. “What’s your point?”
She lifted a hoof to gesture. Then she put it down to gather her thoughts for a short while. She tapped the ground a few times as if counting. “Well, you’re more interesting than anypony here. I guess I just picked you. You know, I never really wanted too many friends up until now, but upon analyzing the data, Thaumaturgical has been a net positive for me. So I guess I want more of that.”
I combed my mane out of my eyes. She had just told me her friendship was going to be transactional. I might have pressed the issue, but I already had eleven friendship problems to solve—correction of her approach could wait—hopefully forever.
“That’s fine,” I said, tersely and somewhat anticlimactic. “So what friend things do you want to do? You don’t strike me as the type to drag me to the salon.”
She shook her head. “I’m more feminine than I look, but that’s not much. Besides, I wouldn’t do that to a former male. In fact, that part’s a bonus for me: I won’t have to worry about you dragging me to the salon. So male friends are a bonus. I can work on finding filly friends later.”
I shrugged. “If that works for you. I will say, ponies really suck at blackmailing, if that’s really all you can come up with.”
“What did you expect me to demand?” she asked, in an almost sardonic monotone.
“I don’t know… get me to throw Annuity in the dungeon maybe?”
Pestle smiled. “No need, I’m enjoying things as they are right now,” she said cryptically.
Must be referencing how my status has humbled the spoiled little rich filly.
“So what now?” I asked, somewhat lamely.
“I'm pretty much okay with whatever you can come up with. I kinda stopped planning at this part. Most days I’m at my apprenticeship, but I’ll let you know what days work for me to get together.”
I was tempted to snark at her already throwing obstacles in the way of our relationship, but I thought of something better to say: “Yeah, I actually have this… project.”
“Is it part of your remedial lessons?”
“No.” I froze. The indignity let me re-focus, but I was still unable to sort out the assortment of bad emotions, and just stomped a hoof. “How did you know about that?”
Without overtly acknowledging my distress, the silver filly seemed to hit a diplomatic note unintentionally. She explained how Annuity had tried to spread it around a bit, but somehow everypony knew already.
“Whatever.” I declared, my tone betraying my attempted show of indifference. “Well, I was going to say it’s a mission from the princess, but that would make it sound far more exciting and important than it really is. Basically, she off-loaded some work on me, and now I sorta have to be a peer mentor.” I paused to ensure I wouldn’t be too candid. “Do you want to help? I mean, it is basically, work. And besides, Celestia hasn’t yet gotten to the part of my “friendship lessons” that explains how roping new friends into helping with chores is a good way to keep friends.”
“I don’t mind work,” she said dismissively. Her expression suggested she understood where I was coming from, perhaps including my trace embarrassment concerning the nature of the task. “Fun stuff for me is work to others,” she added to address the momentary silence.
I shrugged in defeat. “I’ll bring my notes tomorrow, then.”
She smiled. “I’ll let you off early this time, then. I’ve been told that I’m best in small doses.”
My empathy flared up, and I breathed in to reassure her.
“Okay, I’ll try and write down some of my own thoughts tonight, then. Uhh… have a good rest of your day.”
“Bye,” she said absentmindedly.
Guilt began creeping up on me as I meandered towards the front of the school to meet-up with Star.
Am I selfish for thinking that unless she’s Key #12, she shouldn’t get to be Friendship Problem #12?
Despite needing an excuse earlier, diving into Celestia’s notes was exactly what I eventually wound up doing. I always seemed to forget that any venture outside of my own spartan quarters was an invitation for somepony to try and corral a share of my precious spare time. Now that I had a “job” that would at least take up a lot of the time the shortened pony school day gave me, I had to be miserly—except if you’re one of the twelve chosen ones.
Eleven. Actually—no, maybe even ten if I manage to award myself a key! However, that would work...
Still, I was motivated, and I found the focus to power through my homework. The final part of the Xel Ning saga hadn’t been reassuring, looking at it from my standpoint. Basically, she’s now the beloved minotaur queen whose influence cast a benevolent guiding on a culture that was poorly developed at the time. At first, I was stunned that Jill wasn’t bothered, or offended, by this depiction, but there was a part shortly before that made her laugh unexpectedly. Eventually, I pinpointed a rather clever jab at the folly of the ponies in prioritizing cultural development only to get sacked every other century and start from scratch.
Taking a break from the friendship notes, I leaned over the last, unanswered section of reading comprehension and idly swatted at my cheek with my left wing.
This writer isn’t your superficial pony-centrist…
Given Celestia’s criticism of the story’s simplicity and occasional inaccuracy, I had erroneously thought she valued it little. Yet, there was something there—enough for it to be on the curriculum, at any rate.
[Xel Ning—no, Priscilla. Who is she? The name Priscilla is the last word of the book—and was used in Fizzle’s question.
Who is Priscilla?
I smirked. Xel Har Kai Nhing.
I closed the book.
Done! 10/10. A shame Fizzle never rewards sarcasm… Squirt’s grades would certainly benefit.
There had to be more there. I didn’t want to reread the whole thing, but this story could even be partial satire. I had come across some unremarkable pony authors that wrote the way this one did, but those seemed to have an aura of obliviousness—this one didn’t.
“I should hate this book,” I spoke aloud. After all, it looked like a feel-good tale of an unsuspecting being afforded the royal treatment by virtue of captivating a king. Putting aside my own sentiment that the whole royal thing was highly overrated, what did Gildeus see in her? Was she really so cultured before arriving in Equestria that she had a universal charm that translated? Was her, being emotionally alone and struggling in a new setting appealing? Just looks?
I sighed. I supposed I could ask Celestia for her firsthand experience, but that seemed like cheating to me. The question given seemed to imply that “Priscilla” had fully accepted her situation and was an ordinary minotaur—aside from being a queen. As far as insight went, were her “revolutionary” ideas truly her own? They could be a product of her culture. Or minotaur politics might just have been so stupid an outsider could make obvious suggestions. Is she worth glorifying?
This is a mess. How am I supposed to get a clear answer? I shook my head, deciding to give it one more shot tomorrow before accepting the aggravating truth that this question was just testing our effort and creativity.
I rolled out the first sheet of parchment in front of me and started reading.
From what I could gather from the notes, Monocle was a good-natured filly. Others like her, but she puts up walls. Early on, her banker parents arranged all of her play dates. Even when she branched out on her own, she doubted if the ponies she played with really liked her or if their parents just wanted to curry favor.
My, Celestia has been busy. Here I was thinking that she just rambled on about friendship being amazing and encouraged her charges to go out there and socialize.
A half-formed thought flashed through the fringes of my consciousness. While I was still a long way away, I was already seeing possibilities. That was more than I could say for New Moon’s friendship problem.
Monocle might take a week; after that, I can move onto New Moon.
I grabbed the next sheet: Perfect Double. It took me a second to remember who she was. How I reminded myself was that she had colors like Twilight’s brother.
I chuckled. For a second I thought Celestia had given me the original document, but no, that silly scribe had actually reproduced all of the scribbles and cross-outs. I actually had to flip the page over to get any useful information.
Perfect Double prided herself on living on the fringes. Celestia speculated some sort of trauma, but she couldn’t prove it. The unicorn filly had sold herself on the idea that being invisible was cool. She envied those “living in the light,” but adhered to her unassuming life with strange devotion. She wasn’t cold to other ponies, and would even engage them, but she wouldn’t think anything of it or follow-up.
I curled my mane between my forehooves. I vowed to no longer treat this as anything other than a massive ordeal. This one seemed like it would take me weeks. I scrutinized my instinct to put her aside in favor of easier keys, but it did make sense to gain some experience before taking on the harder ones.
Slightly discouraged, I gathered my resolve and pushed forward.
Next, I skimmed Pink Diamond’s file. I feel like I had a head-start, but she had the potential to be very challenging. In any event, I had somehow already decided to save her for last.
I froze mid-motion and dropped the papers I was holding. The nature of my problem appeared to unravel in front of my eyes. Pink Diamond might take two weeks, perfect double four, and Blue Horizon a few more…
Is this even possible? I don’t know how much time I have.
I craved certainty, but I already knew what it amounted to: I couldn’t be sure, so I could only take the most prudent, if unsavory, course of action.
I hopped off my head and reassembled Celestia’s notes as if seeing something put back together would be encouraging. It was not.
“Ponyfeathers… I’m really going to have to work on all of their cases simultaneously.”
In a quaint, colorful town, Diane lazily flew at the tail-end of their party. The enthusiastic filly, House, was lacking wings this time around. She was wearing an open vest that would be rather immodest were she human. With disorienting speed, she flitted between each passerby, fishing for any potential lead that would further their quest.
She seems really into this. Does she not know this is a dream?
“So Diane, you were saying you’re not actually a flying cat?”
“Aye!”
“You were an alicorn one time and a cat alicorn another time, and now you’re a flying cat again...” she mused. So what are you…”
That could be trouble. Is it because Aron and that other filly aren’t here? I want her thinking I’m a pony.
“Oh, hey, there’s a ramen stand. You up for some lunch, Diane?” House asked, changing the subject with her usual energy.
“Aye!”
House dug out some coins from non-existent pockets, not questioning the non-logic for a second. “Why do you keep saying that, by the way?”
Diane furrowed her brow. “Huh… I don’t know. It just seems right for some reason.” She silently chided herself and refocused. “So, House, you’re trying to make your dad happy?”
“Yeah, I guess. But he doesn’t believe us. Even when Crafty told him… so we have to wait.”
It was tempting to press further. Valuable intel dangled right in front of her, like a nice juicy big fish. But any inadvertent hint at her identity could prove fatal.
“Well, I hope your wait pays off,” Diane said warmly. “Are you going to have to wait a long time? I mean, I hope you can make him proud soon.”
The filly scowled. “Yeah, but the probe is super slow, so it’ll be a while.”
Diane smiled. Good thing she’s not exactly the cautious type.
The stand’s proprietor handed House a bowl of Ramen that was as large as she was.
“Never had ramen, but looks yummy!” she chirped.
A mysterious wailing cut through the dream, House vanished, and the bowl of ramen smashed on the ground, disintegrating into nothing. The world around her began to fade away, becoming see-through here and cloudy there until finally Diane was ejected from the dreamscape.
Quarrel put a reassuring hand on Diane’s shoulder. He tended to do that, but it was just welcome enough that she never objected.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, all I did was fly behind that House filly for a couple of hours. She did all the fighting.”
She smiled.
“I think I got something!”
Her momentary excitement faded in an instant. “And I screwed it up. She said it will be a while, but who knows how she views time…”
Quarrel patted her on the back. “Enough with the apologies! You did well enough. We all look after each other and I looked after you!” He struck a pose after a moment awkwardly flying up a few inches. “Based on the data I received from her magics, I can tell that this is a very young pony. The dreamscape itself alters depending on the dreamer’s perception of time. It’s sort of like twins on a train going to different spaceships type of deal. You might say it’s relatively perplexing!”
He waved his hands in front of her.
“Nothing?”
“Nope,” Diane answered simply.
“Normally when I make jokes I don’t get, they land to some extent. You Rhods must stink at popular culture...”
“You had a point?” Diane asked, exasperated.
“We have some time. A long wait for her gives us several weeks at least.”
Diane stretched and finally extricated herself from the assisted dream device that wrapped around her like a gnarled root. “So, we have time. But what do we actually do?”
Quarrel scratched his chin. Abruptly a jolt of energy traveled upward through his body, and he whipped out a small tissue box and reached inside of it.
He was disappointed.
“Well, we’re at zero suggestions now, so hey, that’s three more than yesterday!”