//------------------------------// // Ponyville Is Not Enough // Story: From Stalliongrad With Love // by LoyalLiar //------------------------------// II Ponyville Is Not Enough - - - August 29th, 1452 A.S. Golden Oaks Library Ponyville, Equestria 1100 Hours         Red Ink sat in what was quite possibly the least comfortable seat he had ever endured.  It wasn't poorly padded, or ill-sized.  In fact, its discomfort did not stem from the cushion itself.  Rather, its source was the mare sitting across the small coffee table, watching him with a gentle smile.         "So, Red, I guess we should figure some things out."         "Yes, Ms. Sparkle, I am thinking that."         She cringed, though whether the expression came from his formality or his butchered grammar, he could not tell.  It lasted only a moment, and her speech carried it away quickly.  "You can call me Twilight.  Do you have somewhere to stay in Ponyville?"         "I had no plan to stay long."         "Well, you're welcome to use the library's guest room until you find somewhere of your own.  I'll have Spike set it up for you when he gets back.  How about work?  You mentioned you had been a guardspony?"         Ink contemplated the question for a moment, then answered with a curt nod.  "I am having strong legs and stronger magic."         "You know Empatha?"  It was clear from Red Ink's expression that he did not, at least in Equiish.  "Uh, that's the proper name for pegasus magic."         At the explanation, he nodded.  There wasn't much of a need for words, and he was never really one to overuse them anyway.  He preferred to consider himself a stallion of action.  The action of lighting himself on fire, for instance, was becoming increasingly tempting.             Twilight seemed awed at the prospect of a pegasus mage; her eyes took on a distinct twinkle, and her smile grew ever so slightly too wide for comfort.  Feeling surprisingly threatened by the mare, Ink spoke up.  "Perhaps you are having labor jobs in town?  I can lift much weight for pegasus."         "I was actually thinking you might be the perfect fit for the weather team.  Do you know anything about weather management?"                  He laughed.  "There is only one weather in Stalliongrad, and it is not being seen here in summer.  Though I can be fast learner at times."         "Well, then I guess we've got some options for you."  Twilight's magic grabbed a little pamphlet off the library's central table, and levitated it over.  Upon closer inspection, Red Ink recognized it as the absolute worst kind of tourist brochure.  Its face said 'Welcome to Ponyville' in a disgusting, bright yellow font, above what looked to be a foal's crayon drawing of town hall.  Inside, he would no doubt find what effectively amounted to advertisements for the town's most expensive restaurants and pathetic excuses for tourist attractions.  The center of the space would be devoted to one of those 'artistic' maps of the town, drawn without real scale, where all the items of interest were three times as big as everything else, and half the streets were concealed behind 'artistic interpretation' of the way things were supposed to look.         He barely suppressed the urge to groan at the revelation that he was spot on.  Twilight unfolded the brochure as she claimed a quill.  "Now, we're here."  She circled the library, he noted, in red ink.  The back of his mind began preparing fortifications for the inevitable puns.  "Golden Oaks Library.  You're going to want to first visit my friend Rainbow Dash."  She put a big red 'X' at the end of Cranberry Lane.  "She lives in a huge cloud house here.  You really can't miss it.  She's in charge of the weather team, so she'll be able to get you a job if you're interested.  Before you make up your mind, though, head over to..."  Her words were drawn out in time with the dragging of her quill over the map to the very outskirts of town.  An overemphasized apple orchard was clearly depicted on the map.  "...Sweet Apple Acres.  My friend Applejack and her family were looking to hire a farmhoof so they could get some new orchards planted.  If you want something a bit more physical, that might be what you're looking for."         "I see.  Then I am coming back here?"         "Yeah, but there's no need to hurry back.  Take some time to wander around town and meet some ponies.  When you come back tonight, we'll write your first friendship report.  Sound good?"         "As fine as anything," Red responded in a less-than optimistic tone.  He rose and took a few steps toward the door.         "Oh, before you go, here are some bits.  For lunch."           Twilight levitated a bag toward him, but he brushed it away with his wingtip.  "I cannot be taking your money, Twilight."         "Oh, it's just a little bit.  Call it a gift from a friend."         "Last time I am taking 'gift from a friend', he was wanting me to break romantic rivals wings."           Twilight cringed, but shook her head.  "Well, I'm not going to ask you anything.  Especially not something awful like that.  No strings attached, Red.  Just take the bits."         He sighed, tucked the small bag into his jacket, and walked out the library door.  She didn't hear his parting utterance.  "Shame.  They were easiest bits I ever made." - - - Ponyville, Equestria 1110 Hours         Red Ink stared down at the awful brochure, trying to figure out if he was three streets laterally removed from his destination, or merely pointed perpendicular to it.  He uttered a few choice phrases in Stalliongradi which bear neither translation nor repetition.  His stomping utterances carried him through three elaborate swears and onto a fourth (concerning not only the parentage, but also the lineage of anypony claiming impressionism as an art form) when he heard a sort of gasping–not unlike a tank of volatile weather chemicals slowly leaking highly explosive gas into the air immediately prior to a large explosion.         He turned in time to see the threat approaching.  An earth pony mare was charging, eyes locked directly on him.  An assassin?  He'd dealt with a few before, and this one wasn't exactly subtle.  She leapt into the air, ready to tackle him.  He knew better than to let himself get pinned by an earth pony.  His hoof flew like lightning, catching her in the throat and forcibly smashing her into the ground.         "Who are you working for?" he shouted, earning the gazes and glares of the lively ponies walking the streets.  "Masquerade?"         Despite the fact that he was fully prepared to snap her neck, the mare giggled like a schoolfilly.  "Nope!"         "Soldier On hired you, then?"         "Guess again!"         Ink pounded his free hoof against the road, creating a small concussive blast that made his incredibly volatile nature even more difficult to ignore.  "You are thinking this is game?  Was it Grizzaloo?"         The mare, completely unperturbed by his threat, slipped out from under his hoof by perhaps the most flexible motion the ex-guardspony had ever seen.  Then she quite literally hopped up to her own hooves and leaned toward his face with a goofy grin.  "Well, gosh, you're the one who started guessing.  I work for Mr. and Mrs. Cake!  But that's not why I'm here."         Ink glared at her.  "Then why–"         "Because you're new, silly!  I'm Pinkie Pie, and it's my job to welcome new ponies to Ponyville."  The words were accompanied by the young mare hopping around him in a circle.  He followed her motion with narrowed eyes until the action began to produce a headache.  "Oh, I almost forgot, let me go get my welcome wagon, and–"         "No."  Red Ink bluntly shoved the mare aside.         "Aww, but you'll–"         "No," he stated again, walking past the mare whom he had shoved into a sitting position on the road.         "Well, at least let me throw you a party."         At the request, his hooves stopped cold.  "Party?  Will there be..." he paused not out of true contemplation, but because his Equiish had failed him again.  "Warmed mares?  Or perhaps drinks."         She cocked her head to the side, clearly confused.  "Well, it is August, so I'm sure all the mares will be pretty hot.  It–"  She stopped, and then laughed.  "Oh, I get it.  Good one!  Well, you bet!  And I'll make my classic 'Party Punch' too!  So you'll come then?"         "I suppose I am having nothing better to do," he answered.  Pinkie proceeded to leap into the air at a height that would make most pegasi envious, and then run off sideways without properly landing.  The guardspony watched her go with a raised brow, and then decided that his sanity likely depended on disregarding the encounter.  His decision made, he turned back to his path and went about the business of insulting impressionist 'artists' once more. - - - Ponyville, Equestria 1112 Hours         The sensation of knocking on a cloud door had always seemed silly to Red.  He couldn't shake the feeling that his hoof was going to punch a hole in the surface, and while he was amused by the concept, he knew that homeowners generally frowned upon such behavior.  Especially when the house in question was at least three times as valuable as the neighboring architecture.  Ink wasn't a specialist in the subject, but there was no way the opulent cloud house hanging over Ponyville was worth anything less than twice the value of Twilight's library, or for that matter, town hall.           Restraining himself as fully as he could, his hoof tapped on the door twice in succession, rather lightly.  He waited, but nopony was quick to answer.  After a moment of silence, he knocked again, harder.  Again, his wait proved fruitless.  He repeated the process twice more, before finally growing agitated and lunging into the door with his full weight.         While not a particularly tall pegasus, years of combat practice in the harsh streets of Stalliongrad had given the stallion a surprisingly developed build.  When he put his force into something, it tended to move.  In the case of the cloud house, the door shattered into tiny wisps.  Ink glanced around quickly, only to find himself comforted by total solitude in the quiet skies.  Seeing no better alternative, he plodded quietly into the home.         "Rainbow Dash?  Are you being home?"  Nopony answered.                  It was at this point that Red Ink performed a maneuver that he would personally have referred to as a 'tactical breach'.  In laypony's terms, this is to say that he utterly disregarded any sense of personal property or privacy, and proceeded to rummage around Rainbow's residence without permission or hesitation.          Red Ink knew vaguely of Rainbow Dash from a recent and rather notable Honor Guard investigation, though his actual involvement with the mare had been incredibly brief.  Given the rumors of her exploits, he assumed she had to be some sort of war hero in Canterlot, much as he was known to be in Stalliongrad.         It was therefore to his considerable surprise that, within her opulent and expensive cloudhouse, Rainbow Dash was a slob, a ravening fangirl, and perhaps worst of all, a closeted egghead.  The latter was the worst; though Red had little respect for the empty, crusty pizza boxes that filled the kitchen, and even less for her shameless adoration of the overly glorified combat unit that barely ever even fought, it was the unforgiveable presence of juvenile adventure fiction that filled his blood with (metaphorical) fire.  He very nearly transformed the sensation into real fire, stopped only by Celestia’s lingering threat to his life.  Besides, as he reminded himself in a fluent Stalliongradi mental monologue, arson wasn't really his style.         His tromp back downstairs to the living room of the small abode was interrupted by a surprisingly firm object.  He took a step back in surprise, quite certain that nothing so solid had been in his way before.  A quick reassessment of the situation revealed that the object was, in fact, a cyan pegasus mare.         "Uh, what are you doing in my house?"         With an utterly blunt tone, Red Ink responded with something resembling honesty.  "Looking for work."         "Wait, that accent…  do I know you?"         At this point, a question of honesty was raised in Red's mind, before being decided just as quickly.  "I am thinking not, Rainbow Dash.  Sparkle send me to ask about weather jobs."         Rainbow's brow made its way surprisingly high onto her head.  "So you bucked down my door because you want me to hire you?"         Ink stared at her with a perfectly straight face for a moment before shrugging.  "This is trick question, yes?"         "Ah, whatever.  Come with me."  Rainbow tromped downstairs, allowing the larger pony to follow in her hoofsteps.  Their path wound down the stairs, across the living room, and out the door to a sunny August sky.  "Now, what's your name?"         "Red Ink."         "Okay then, Red, here's what I've got to say.  I don't know if you've ever worked weather before, but Ponyville is probably the hardest weather assignment in Equestria.  It might not be important to the higher-ups in Cloudsdale, but we have to put up with the Everfree Forest messing with all our plans all the time.  It gets dangerous here, so when I say that I need you to listen to me perfectly, you answer…"         Unable to resist a quip, Ink picked up quickly.  "That I will burn down forest."         "Wrong!" Rainbow yelled before his words had actually processed.  She stifled a small chuckle, and then glanced out at the sky.  "Okay, I like your style Red, but I'm not hiring you for just that.  See that cluster of Altocumulus there?  I want it gone, as quick as you can.  I'll be…"  Ink took off before the words were even done.  "…timing you."         Red Ink was not a legendary flier, like Rainbow or her beloved flying team.  He knew nothing of fancy flips and reckless dives.  Beyond their most basic forms, they served little purpose in his life.  He had, however, learned how to fly with incredible efficiency.  He cleared the distance between Rainbow's 'porch' and the target clouds with only three beats of his wings.  On arrival, his hooves lashed out with a speed that did earn him just a little bit of Rainbow's envy.  Like boxing out one of his subordinates after a long day of patrols in Stalliongrad, he downed the clouds with a flurry of furious foreleg kicks, never needing more than a single strike to send raw white puffs spilling across the sky.  It didn't take long for him to eliminate his targets, and from there he flew back to Rainbow without delay.  "How I am doing?"         Rainbow shook her head.  "A lot better than your Equiish.  That was twelve seconds.  Not the best I've ever heard of, but it's pretty darn good."         "I am being better at many things than Equiish.  My mentor was not considering it necessary."         At the subtle mention of his predecessor, Red Ink saw a change on Rainbow's face.  It morphed quickly from the mildly impressed bemusement of a parent watching a child open a present on Hearth's Warming morning to the grimace of irritation and fury that such a child might bear when their parent stepped on it.  "You're that guardspony from the funeral?"  Before he could answer, she continued with pointed spite in her words.  "The weather team doesn't need you.  Get lost."         No stranger to the spite of ponies he barely knew, Red Ink was smart enough to simply leap into the sky and soar away. - - - Sweet Apple Rd. Ponyville, Equestria 1148 Hours         Apple trees.  Apple trees everywhere.  The road was like the screaming nightmare a pony might wake from after ten years of eating nothing but the red and green fruit.  Red Ink half-expected to find a nightmarish half-apple, half-pony creature stalking the orchard.  There were simply too many.  Part of his mind wondered where the proletariat horde that harvested the countless trees was being oppressed by the cruel Apple-owning bourgeoisie.  That part of his mind was quickly brought to a dark corner and summarily burned to death, on the grounds that it was stupid.         Red Ink considered himself something of a wheat-and-potatoes stallion (avoiding the obvious rhyme because, despite his love of violence, he was still a pony).  He enjoyed the rare sample of sweet fruit, or candy, but what he saw as he walked toward the distant farmhouse was utterly intimidating.  Nevertheless, the warrior in the stallion forced him to press on.  Somewhere within the inhospitable wasteland of endless apple trees was the promised land, where he would be able to find a job.           A sign of civilization appeared on the horizon in the form of a young yellow filly in a red cape charging down the road.  She kept going as fast as her stubby legs would carry her, before shedding her momentum in a slide of her hooves that finally stopped a mere foot from his own legs.         "Heya!  I'm Applebloom!  What's yer name, mister?"         "I am being called Red Ink, small mare."  He inspected her slowly, from the bushy red mane tied back in a pink bun to the enormous smile she offered him as she subtly leaned to the side to inspect his flank.  Grateful for his naturally red coat, Ink nevertheless couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the intimate attentions of such a young filly.  "What are you doing here?"         "Huh?  Oh, ah'm headin' in ta town ta see mah friends.  That's a nice coat ya' got there."         Red Ink smiled lightly.  His (incredibly cheap) jacket was literally the only garment he owned, and it was therefore also his favorite.  The fact that it was consequently also his least favorite failed to enter into his thought processes at all, as the ultimate point was that he was very fond of his jacket.  He twisted the lapel lightly to reveal more of the fur collar, genuinely made from some dead animal.  Though incredibly comfortable, it wasn't the most appropriate choice of clothing for a scorching August day far away from the snows of Stalliongrad.  He realized this quite pointedly when the sensation of sweat appeared against his neck.  Without thinking anything of the action, he removed the heavy garment and slung it length-wise over his back across his wings.         This only encouraged the filly, who he had to imagine was experiencing her first heat.  Her glances at his backside grew bolder with every moment, even as he shifted to keep his more intimate parts out of view.  While he had no shame about his body in size or capability, there was a special circle of Tartarus reserved for stallions who took advantage of little ones like her.  Their little dance continued for a few moments before she finally snapped.         "Gall, just lemme see yer' cutie mark already!"         Red Ink slapped his face with his hoof and shook his head.  "I am thinking you should be heading somewhere to cool off, and avoiding stallions, filly.  You are maybe thinking I am attractive, but–"                  "Eww, gross.  Gosh, creep, I just wanted ta know how ya got yer special talent."  Ink recoiled, but found himself forced to reach out and stop the earth pony as she tried to run away.  "Ah!  Get offa me!  Stranger danger!"         "Be listening little one," Ink insisted.  "I am sorry, but.  At my age, where I am from, when filly looks at my flank, it is often for different purpose.  You are wanting to see my mark, there it is.  Look."  He released her, and turned around to reveal the mark to Applebloom.           For a moment, she was tempted to run, but his lack of further hostile action earned back the slightest bit of trust.  She stared at the strange symbol.  A quill made of a red feather (standing out only from his coat by virtue of a thin black outline) traced a curved line across his flank.  Trailing behind it was what might have been a mark of red ink, or perhaps blood, standing out on his flank only by its sheen and distinct tone.         "Well, ah ain't never seen a mark like that.  What'd ya do tah get it?"                  "Story of my mark is not for small ponies," Ink muttered crossly.  "Your parents would be most angry to learn that I was telling you.  Now, be running along, but first telling me.  I am on the way to farm, yes?"         "Huh?  Oh, yeah!  Just a little farther on.  My brother and sister oughta be workin' out front.  Can't miss em."         Red Ink watched the inquisitive filly run off with a curious expression, as his mind recollected mares of a more appropriate age who had eyed his back side for much more entertaining purposes.  Much like the rest of his life, most of them had been left behind in Stalliongrad, while he was sentenced to live out his days 'making friends' in this hellhole of civilians and apple trees.         The memories of a better time, and far better company carried him out of the apple trees and up to a relatively clear hillside where a much more diverse farm had been centered around a large red barn converted into a home.  Sitting in front of this home were two ponies on stools, sharing a platter of clearly apple-based lunch.  He walked towards them calmly as he analyzed them out of habit.         The younger was a healthy mare who was probably only two or three years younger than himself.  Her body bore the lean, toned strength of an earth pony who knew the meaning of a hard day's work.  Beneath her hat, he couldn't help but smile at the freckles on her face.  He might very well have asked her to a drink then and there were it not for two factors.  The first was his dedication to finding work, as the first step to getting the buck away from the accursed tiny town.  The second was the presence that could only fairly be described as her older brother.         Ink hesitated to call him a 'pony'.  Other terms came to mind instead.  'Stallion'.  'Horse'.  'Titan'.  'Monument'.  'Edifice'.  Of course, all these terms were in Stalliongradi within the confines of his mind, and he uttered none of them for fear of his own life.  The other red stallion was the largest pony he had ever seen, if only by a hair.  The mare he had narrowly beaten out was the source of the near-deadly scar that ran across Ink's chest.           "Hey, Mac, looks like we got company!"         "Eeyup."         The siblings rose together and strode over toward him as he approached.  The fact that the stallion was able to cast a shadow over Ink's face was terrifying, given the fact that it was high noon.         "Howdy, mister.  Ain't seen you 'round these parts before.  This here's Sweet Apple Acres.  I'm Applejack, and this is my brother Big Macintosh.  What can we do ya for?"         Resisting the urge to answer with a sum of currency, Red Ink instead smiled.  "I am being told by Twilight Sparkle that you are hiring farm hoof for help in harvest season?"         Applejack's smile dropped slightly as she glanced to her big brother.  Big Macintosh, ever the stoic, uttered only a single word.  "Nope."         "See, sugarcube, we was hirin', but we picked somepony up just yesterday.  It's been busy here on the farm leadin' up to applebuck season, so I ain't told Twi yet.  Sorry if ya' walked all this way for nothin'.  Why don't ya join us for lunch?"         Against his better judgement, Ink nodded.  "I am having nothing better to do, I suppose."  He followed Applejack over to the table as Big Macintosh leisurely sauntered inside their home, returning with a hoof-carved chair.  After it was placed, Ink tossed his jacket over its back and sat down to the heaping helping of apples he was quickly being offered.         "So, what's yer name?"         "Red Ink," the pony lied as a matter of habit, growing quickly tired of the question.           "And yer from Stalliongrad?"         "How are you telling?" he asked sarcastically.  "My good looks?"         Applejack laughed as she dropped a scoop of applesauce onto a plate already saturated fully with the fruit.  "Nah, I figure it's on account a' your enormous head."           So she could do the dance.  Red Ink smiled as he gulped down the first bite of a small roll on his plate that seemed devoid of apples in any way.  The flavor that lingered on the back of his tongue told him he had been mistaken.  "So, Applejack, you are friend of Twilight Sparkle?"         "Oh, yeah!"  Applejack slammed down a quick tankard of apple juice before continuing.  "The girls and I go way back.  Five years ago, we… well, I don' want ta' blow up my own head with braggin' 'bout us girls."         "You are Element of Harmony, then, I am guessing?  Forgive me, I am reading names in Stalliongrad newspaper, and faces are not coming to mind.  You are… Kindness?"         "Nah, that's Fluttershy.  She lives out by the edge a' the forest with her animals.  If you stick around long enough, you'll meet her, though if she ain't exactly the social type at first, don't hold it against her.  How about you?  How do ya know Twi?"         "That is… long story.  To make it short, I am friend of her brother."  Never before had Red Ink told a more bold-faced lie, and he knew it.  He and Shining Armor had a relationship that disguised itself as a mere 'office rivalry', but which would on closer inspection be nearer in description to 'government conspiracy' or 'shadow war'.  "She is letting me stay with her in Ponyville for time being."         "Oh, that's great!  Like I always say, we here at Sweet Apple Acres sure do love making new friends."                    Her smile was so saccharine that Ink almost puked up his apples.  After a moment of digestive distress, he looked her straight in the eye.  "You always say that?"         "Eeyup!" she answered, earning a small glance from her brother.         "Stop," Ink responded just as bluntly.  Something in his gut told him their conversation was taking a turn far-too heavily toward a disgustingly infantile ideal of 'friendship'.  Given that the meal was already saturated with apples, he had no more reason to remain.  After gently rising from his seat and tossing his jacket over his back, he tossed a glance up to the sky.  It meant nothing to him, but gave the impression that he was checking the time by the sun.  "Be forgiving me.  I am late for meeting with… 'Twi', and am needing to be gone.  Eat well.  Goodbye."         His wings carried him into the sky before either could respond.  He could not bring himself to care. - - - The Chartreuse Café Ponyville, Equestria 1235 Hours         Red Ink was very confused.  He had, for his entire life, believed that chartreuse was a shade of purple.  If that were truly the case, however, he could not understand why a café so named would choose to paint its walls what he internally described to be 'vomit green'.  And, indeed, if that color were the true tone of chartreuse, what idiot used it as the name for a restaurant?           Thankfully, despite its awful color scheme, the café was more than willing to serve him a gin and tonic, alongside a hearty celery soup that together were clearing the taste of apples from his palate.  They had even been offered on the house.  Of course, that was likely the result of him punching out a waiter for asking if he didn't prefer vodka instead.  He felt entirely justified in his course of action, given that nearly no-one had been around to see the incident, and that the restaurant staff was all-too willing to keep the maître d's faux pas effectively hushed up.  He sat in the corner, brooding over his fate and staring out the window while silently wishing that it were raining.  Brooding at a window that looked out on a sunny day somehow felt wrong.         His life was falling down around his ears, and he needed to find a job.  Having never struggled for such a task in his life, he had nearly reached the point of cursing Celestia and screaming about the economy (which happened to be in a particularly prosperous period).  If he failed, living with Twilight Sparkle was going to become very awkward, and he knew all too well that was the first step on the road to Celestia's final judgment.  The real challenge, though, was not losing his edge while living in the midst of these pathetic civilians who had likely never seen a day of combat in their lives.  Part of him was tempted to simply make a living hunting monsters in the nearby forest the ponies seemed so afraid of, though he feared quietly that such an action might earn him Celestia's scorn.           Red Ink was so absorbed by his thoughts that he nearly failed to notice the mare walking up to take a seat opposite him at his table.         "Excuse me, sir.  Could I have a word?"         She was an earth pony of about his age, with a beaming smile and a cerise coat.  In this instance, Red Ink would have defined cerise as 'a word that the accursed, damnable impressionists use to inflate their egos while referring to purple', were he familiar with the term and able to speak far better Equiish.  Instead, he said none of those words, and chose to answer with the far more socially acceptable "Yes?"           "Well, you see, I couldn't help but notice your cutie mark, and I had to ask…"         Ink put on his most charming smile.  "Yes?"         "Are you a teacher?"         Hopes of a companion for the night dashed against the rocks, Red Ink considered turning her away.  However, the reality of the fact that 'teacher' was an occupation made him reconsider.  Further, his mind added, he had already answered identically twice.  He knew there was some sort of saying, about the third time trying something being better for some reason.  Though he couldn't recall the Equiish words, he had no better thought than to try them out.                  "Yes."         "Oh, Celestia, thank you!"  The mare pulled herself fully into the opposite seat and stared at him.  "I'm sorry, I should introduce myself first.  I'm Cheerilee."         "Red Ink."  He offered a hoof, which she shook gently while stifling a chuckle at the implication of his name.  "Why are you looking for teacher?"         Her eyes widened for a moment.  "Oh, my, you're Stalliongradian?  Well, to answer your question, I'm the teacher here at the Ponyville Schoolhouse.  Classes are starting up for a new year in three days, and of course, my crazy sister decides that two days is enough notice for her wedding in Trottingham.  There aren't actually any other teachers in Ponyville, so I was afraid I would have to miss the wedding.  So I guess what I'm asking is if you could substitute for me for a few days."         "Certainly, if it pays."         She nodded enthusiastically.  "Oh, of course!  I hope you can forgive my excitement, but it's like Celestia herself sent you here to help me."         The irony of the phrase was not lost on Red Ink, as he gulped down what ought to have been three sips of his gin and tonic in one go.  "You are less joking than you think."         "Well, tell her thank you, then."  Cheerilee smiled.  "But before we keep going on this, why don't you tell me about yourself?  What do you teach?  What's your specialty?"         At that question, Red Ink's body stiffened up, and his mind began to race.  In his youth, the stallion had possessed a reputation amongst tutors for being a lost cause.  He only took to a few subjects–as previously mentioned, Equiish was not amongst them.         A lie came to him slowly, but it would do.  "I am teaching older students usually, I think, than yours.  But I can do math for them, and I am good at history.  Magic, too, if you are wanting that."         "Magic?"  Cheerilee raised a brow.  "Most of our students are earth ponies, and I can't help but notice you aren't a unicorn either.  How do you–"         "Every pony has magic," Ink responded with a grin.  "I am thinking students will like that lesson.  Many fun things to do."         "Is it safe?"         The stallion's smile grew slightly wider still.  "They are learning to use bodies and gifts responsibly.  It is important lesson.  Every pony should be learning.  More important than math, or history."         "Or Equiish," Cheerilee teased.  "You certainly seem like you might make an excellent substitute for my class.  Why don't you come with me back to the schoolhouse, and we can draw up a curriculum for while I'm gone." - - - Golden Oaks Library Ponyville, Equestria 1613 Hours         "Twilight, I am ‘home’!" Red Ink called as he threw open the door.  A moment lingered in silence as a soap opera's canned applause utterly failed to materialize.         "Sorry, Red, I'll be with you in a second!"  The Unicorn's voice had come from upstairs, shouted from behind a closed door.  Seeing no point in waiting, the pegasus tossed his coat over a nearby chair and trotted calmly up the stairs.           Twilight screamed when he pushed open the door.  The slight grin on his face faded when it was revealed that he had failed to interrupt her in quite as private a moment as he had imagined.  Instead, a burning scorch mark in the doorframe a mere inch from his head marked what had nearly been his death.           "You are trying to kill me for opening door?"         "I was practicing a dangerous spell!  Don't just barge in on me!"  Her magic shut a dusty old tome which she levitated onto a nearby table before turning her attention back to her guest.  "Sorry.  You were out for quite a while.  Figure out a job?"         "Yes.  I am teaching elementary."         There was a sort of awkward silence before Twilight finally found words.  "But… but you can't even talk."         "I am resenting that."         "You know what I mean!  I heard Cheerilee was looking for a substitute, but I had no idea she was so desperate!"  The unicorn began pacing as her spiel continued.  "I mean, it's not like I don't know the subject matter.  I could teach the students about Starswirl's Last Proof, and gravitational theory, and…"         "Are you thinking perhaps she is not choosing you because foals are not understanding your lessons?"  Ink cocked a brow at the subtle hint of confusion mixed with rage and insanity that flickered across Twilight's face.  "Just a thought, Twilight Sparkle.  Now, I am going to party tonight–"         "Yeah, Pinkie came by to invite me.  She does it for every new pony in town.  You'll be able to meet a lot of ponies there.  Maybe make some more friends."                  "Of course," Ink answered with an utterly false smile.  "First, though, you were saying earlier that we are writing letter to Princess?"         "Oh, yeah!  Let me go get some parchment and a couple quills."  The pony darted into and out of the room with both a speed and an enthusiasm that Red Ink felt would be utterly inappropriate for literally any piece of correspondence, let alone one with such a ridiculous premise.  Nevertheless, she returned only a moment later, bearing the aforementioned objects.  "Okay, here's how we start…" Princess Celestia,         I am writing to you today for first report on 'friendship' study.  My subject is being 'impressions'.         Today, I learn that how pony approaches others is having large effect on being able to make friends.  If first time pony sees you is stumbling through their front door–it was accident–they are being mad at you and not likely to be friend or offer you job on weather team.  Similar thing is happening if you are assuming mare is interested in you when she is not.  However, if one is being decent, and using kind words, one can soon find other ponies who are willing to offer what you need, and so are being friends to you.           I am hoping to make good impression tonight at party.  Perhaps this time I am meeting mare who is interested in me.  Be careful, Princess.  If I am not coming back soon, there are being too many ponies who want to keep me here, like in my home.         Here is hoping my 'assignment' is done soon.         "Red Ink"