//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Applejack Balances Her Books // by sparklepeep //------------------------------// The Element of Honesty sat patiently at a desk with three stacks of papers, several loose scrolls and a half-empty mug of cider. Propping up her face with one of her front hooves and feeding herself with an apple with the other, Applejack slowly examined an unfurled scroll filled with names and figures. A weary frown overtook her face as she tallied some, but not all, of the numbers up in her mind. Outside her office---a small room that was neatly tucked away in the attic of the farmhouse, never used for more than a few days of the year---the first snow of the winter began to fall. Applejack, distracted by the beautiful white flakes, momentarily let her attention drift to the clouds outside and the year behind her. This was a good fall, she thought. Even with that Film Flam madness Sweet Apple Acres had a marvelous cider season. In fact, if her math was correct, this may have been the highest grossing year for Sweet Apple Acres since they began keeping records. Of course, mathematics has never been her forte. Applejack looked away from the window to the bookcase next to her desk. It was a simple piece of furniture, but it was sturdy and had lasted almost as long as Granny Smith has been alive. After they had secured the farm and the crops started growing, the pioneer ponies who founded Ponyville built these first bookshelves in this very room so they could begin to record their history. However, these histories were nothing like those on Twilight Sparkle's shelves. They had no epic tales of princesses doing battle in the heavens or mythical creatures spilling forth from the gates of Tartarus. These shelves contained records. Names, numbers, simply facts organized as best as the busy farmers could in their spare time. Applejack's gaze fell on one of the last volumes on the bottom shelf. Like the bookshelf, it was simple and unadorned. Yet to Applejack this book was more important than the one that taught them how Nightmare Moon could be defeated for, beyond facts, these shelves contained memories. For a moment, the tired orange pony closed her eyes and thought of the record keepers who penned that last book on the shelf. The mulled cider, warm in her stomach, reminded her of a warmth that she instinctively longed for in this cold little nook. She fought back the urge to open that volume to the one page that she has memorized the location of. Unceremoniously but carefully buried within sales figures, dates and crop rotation records on that page were the words "we welcomed our second foal into Ponyville; her name is Applejack". --- While Applejack was drifting away a small draft drifted into her small attic room. Torn from her memories, Applejack snapped to attention, slightly embarrassed but also relieved that her friends were not here to see her being more sentimental than she'd like them to see. Get 'er together, AJ, she thought to herself, ain't no time ta' waste willy-nilly-in' over some old books. The Element of Honesty didn't always tell the truth, especially to herself. Finishing the apple in her hoof, Applejack tidied the papers blown out of order by the draft and close the crack in the window. It was hard enough sorting through all these receipts with them in perfect order. After her workspace was once again in the semi-chaotic yet perfectly functional mess, Applejack went back to her scroll. She lost track of where she was so she started from the beginning, reading off the names of wholesalers across Equestria and the amount of apples they purchased in the last year. As she tallied up the numbers she winced slightly; something didn't add up. The farm grew 438 barrels worth of red delicious apples last year, but only 437 barrels were accounted for. Carefully, Applejack once again went through the list of wholesalers. After that, she looked back at the records of pastries made. Granny Smith, not being the most organized of ponies, had some rather chaotic records. Pie-making records alone were scattered through thirteen different sheets of paper. While Applejack shuffled and shifted the papers she made hasty calculations and marks with a quill in her hoof. One wrong move and ink and paper would fly everywhere. Of course, it was at that point that a loud banging came from below. "Applejack! Ya' done yet? Ah wanna play!" Fortunately, the bottle of ink Applejack just dipped her quill into stayed upright. However, ink from her newly rearmed quill flew all over her desk. New marks appeared in her scratch work and it looked like a squid ninja sliced the farm's fritter-making tallies neatly in half. Nothing she couldn't fix---or ignore. Well, nothing, except for the apple she was saving for a snack. It was covered in ink and now completely unsafe for pony consumption. It was also a red delicious. Applejack swung around towards the back of the room. There it was: a large basket of red delicious. She had saved a barrel of apples to snack on while balancing her books and, with all that was left afterwards, make a special batch of jam for Pinkie Pie's Winter Wrap Up wrap up party. "AJ? You there?" Apple Bloom opened the trapdoor and poked her little head out, looking around for her big sister. "Hey there, lil' sis! Nope. Not done yet! Why don'tcha go play wit' Scootaloo an' Sweetie Belle?" "Okay! You comin' down for dinner?" "Of course, Apple Bloom! Y'all go have fun now, ya hear? Oh, yeah, thanks lil' sis!" "For what?" Apple Bloom was confused, but since she was already halfway to the door at that point she didn't really want to investigate further. Applejack turned back to her monumental task and smiled, once again glad that her little sister is always there to help with farm chores. Even the most unpleasant one.