It was an ordinary Saturday morning in Ponyville, which meant that Rainbow Dash had slept in late, and there was moderate cloud cover blown in from the naturally-occurring “wild” weather over the Everfree Forest. This forced a certain cross-eyed pegasus to fill in after finishing her postal route to buck away the cumulus. The sun moved across the sky per Celestia's will, and it was one of those mornings where Luna let the moon linger during daytime in the west, as if the royal sisters were greeting each other from across the skies of Equestria. Morning dew was just beginning to dry from the leaves of all the flowers and leaves, and ponies (aside from the aforementioned many-hued pegasus) were beginning to go about their days, working and playing as was appropriate to their age and occupation. Of course, more than a few were playing when they ought to be working, though some ponies were working when many would say they ought to be playing.
The unicorn Twilight Sparkle was the latter type of pony. At 8:02:56 AM (according to the very precise clock she kept), she was already halfway through her self-assigned chores of reorganizing as many of the books in the library as she could stand. While she worked, Spike watched through the kitchen door, looking up every few seconds to keep an eye on what she was doing. While Spike was Twilight's assistant and frequently saw Twilight as a surrogate parent, he had a tendency to manage and organize things for her beyond the job description.
Twilight's compulsive organizational tendencies unfortunately did not result in a practical arrangement, and the logic of the moment that declared that Super Naturals belonged under “H” for “Herbalism” might be forgotten when she was looking for it an hour later under “S”. The draconic instinct for hoarding meant that Spike had an almost eidetic memory when it came to the location of even the most minor item, and with a casual eye for where Twilight was putting books while he prepared his breakfast (a mica sandwich with tourmaline sprinkles for a bit of flavor), he would be able to easily locate any of the books she was now misplacing. It always amazed Spike how much trouble a pony who spent so much time in libraries could have in understanding the basics of cataloging.
At the moment, Spike was focused more on food than knowledge organization, taking care to peel a layer of mica without breaking it. A sudden burp, however, defeated his intentions as a gout of green flame burst from between his lips. As the flame winked out, a finely-crafted scroll hovered in its place. At the familiar sound of a dragon belch, Twilight turned to face the kitchen.
“Was that a letter from the Princess?” she asked, continuing before Spike could respond, “Can you bring it in here?”
Taking a quick bite of his sandwich, Spike brought the scroll in, holding it out for Twilight to grab hold of with her magic. The purple aura wrapped around the edges of the scroll, undoing the seal and unfurling the scroll so that Twilight could begin reading it.
"My Dear Twilight Sparkle," began the addressee, reading the letter aloud in the familiar intonation she always slipped into when reading messages from Princess Celestia. Spike often felt as though he could hear the Princess's voice imposed over Twilight's when she read in this manner, and to some extent Twilight did seem to unconsciously imitate her mentor's accent and cadence when reading her words. “I have been pleased beyond words to read of the lessons that you and your friends have learned since I assigned you to study the magic of friendship. Together with the brief opportunities I have had to spend time with you and the other bearers of the Elements of Harmony, I have seen that you six young mares (and Spike, as well) have formed the bonds of an ever-lasting friendship. However, a pony cannot, should not solely rely on her very best friends, and neither should she regard others in her life as being outside of this circle. As a leader, I am often called upon to solve disputes between ponies, and in such cases I must act as a friend to all my subjects, even those I do not know well; such openness is the essence of harmony. Therefore, I assign you and Spike to reach out beyond your five mare friends, and spend the next several weeks getting to know the rest of Ponyville....”
That imitation had faltered as Twilight read through the letter, and by the time she got to her new assignment, her voice was wavering.
“We have to make more friends?” the purple unicorn asked, her head tilted to the side in confusion. “Well... I suppose that a larger and more diverse group would provide more accurate information and allow for a broader understanding.”
“Oh, absolutely!” agreed Spike, smiling and nodding emphatically, and then stopping. “Um, what does that mean?”
“Do you remember that assignment on research methods back in Canterlot?” asked Twilight, waving a hoof in the general direction of the city as if it was near enough to point out. Spike nodded a little more hesitantly. “It's all about... "
Twilight paused to think, the faces of ponies she'd met since coming to Ponyville coming to mind: residents, frequent visitors, mares and stallions who worked in the town but lived elsewhere, and the occasional celebrity drawn by Rarity's work or the proximity of the town to Canterlot and Manehattan. There were a lot of ponies in this small town, and sometimes their faces seemed to blur together to the point that she thought she'd seen the same ponies in two places at once.
"...sample sizes," she continued, "I guess. If I try to learn about friendship from only five or so other ponies, then I'm probably not really going to understand what friendship means to most ponies.”
“Well,” said Spike, tapping his chin with a single claw. “In that case, maybe you should talk to somepony who knows lots of other ponies?”
“Right you are, Spike! And there's no two ponies I can think of who'd be better for that, than...” Twilight paused as she looked up at a clock on the wall, “...oh! In fact, I know exactly where they'll be right now! I've got to run, Spike! Keep an eye on things here while I'm out, I'll be back as soon as I have more information.”
As Twilight cantered out of the room and released her telekinetic hold on the scroll, it gently fell to the ground and settled in front of Spike. Reaching to pick it up to put it away, he paused as a single dark spot on the paper vellum caught his eye. The thick, expensive material of the scroll—standard for messages from the Princess, more likely due to the insistence of her attendants than her own personal tastes—was marred by two separate thick, uneven rectangles of ink, just large enough to be recognized as attempts to blot out an error.
"Huh, weird," mumbled Spike as he picked up the scroll, "never saw Princess Celestia make a typo. Oh well!" Rolling up the scroll, Spike filed it away with numerous others, and returned to the kitchen, his unfinished sandwich on his mind.