41. Lessons in Flight - Part Six
Letters From a Little Princess Monster
Lessons in Flight - Part Six
It is said that Nature abhors a vacuum, but what it really detests beyond all reason are straight lines.
Pegasi like straight lines, particularly the ones between Here and There. This is shown by a certain disregard for things like National Borders, Traffic Lanes, and Window Glass.
Unicorns also like straight lines, and have a certain fondness for right angles, geometric shapes, and perfect repetitive patterns. Like gems.
Needless to say, when unicorns design railroads, buildings, or other structures, they use as many straight lines as practical, but they are smart enough to bend their structures with parabolic arcs, curved reinforcements, and precise obedience to the laws of Practical Strain Relief and Excessive Weight Reserve. Unicorn structures do not fall down without substantial encouragement, be it from nature or the normal results of their magical education process, but they are a pale shadow when compared to the engineering projects of earth ponies.
Pegasus structures may on the surface seem random and thrown together, a mish-mash of different cloud structures rammed against each other with no real regard for lines or engineering stability, but that’s because cloud is a very forgiving building substance, and the bar is opening in about ten minutes so just stick that bunch against the wall for today and we’ll go straight there with the first round on me.
Earth ponies like curved lines. Where a unicorn road will slice straight through a hill, an earth pony road will gently curve up the side, past a grove of maple trees, alongside a delicious bunch of multiflower roses, and descend the other side in a long curve that allows the sunset to be properly admired. Unicorns complain that earth pony constructed roads neglect the purpose of a road. A proper road goes from here to there, and they grouse to no end when they are forced to backtrack through a small town and ask directions from the pleasant ponies who live there. Earth ponies consider that to be the whole purpose of traveling.
Pegasi don’t really care either way. They’ve already flown where they wanted to go in the first place and are at the bar, having a sarsaparilla and playing darts while they wait for the rest of the ground-bound group to catch up.
Something that none of the three tribes of ponies realize is the exact result of having a series of roads, railways, and skyways criss-crossing the country, each laid down by magic, trod or flown through every day by magical ponies, and conductive to the flow of magic that makes up so much of their world. The same unicorn who carves protective runes into steam boilers or structural beams every day does not even blink an eye when they pick up a road map and spot one of the same magical runes laid out in rails and cobblestones much like a Find-a-Word puzzle.
The roads between houses in Ponyville had not really been laid out by an engineer, or even any pony who wore a tie. The paths looped and meandered between houses, avoiding the odd fence or clothes-drying poles, sometimes falling into disuse as a second path proved more useful, sometimes springing out of nowhere when a few of the local children decided to take a short cut through somepony’s backyard. Every few years, the new incoming Country Treasurer would pull out the town ownership plats and sit down with a pencil to figure out just who owned what.
After about an hour, each one of them did exactly the same as his predecessor: send out the tax bills just the same as the last treasurer while visiting the same bar and drinking the same hard cider for a few weeks to get the idea out of his head that the maps had somehow been looking back.
There were certain side-effects to living so close to the Everfree Forest. Other than just Pinkie Pie.
Trixie knew none of this. She liked curved lines on roads, in particular curves that matched her rather unsteady steps after a long night at a bar with her date, Monsieur Bourbon. Fatigue was stepping in for alcohol tonight, or this morning, depending on if one were to consider the sun sitting just barely under the horizon and waiting for a rather late Princess Luna to fly back to Canterlot and put away the moon after having been engaged in conversation with Trixie for nearly the entire night. Although Trixie was quite familiar with the sensation of booze overindulgence, Trixie had not been prepared for the sheer volume of questions that Luna had besieged her with over the evening. She felt wrung-out and pulled through a knothole, then wrung-out again for more information and stuffed back through. Her weary hooves trudged along the Ponyville road nearly without input from her overstressed brain cells or eyes, following by touch as it curved in various directions while she just enjoyed the peace and quiet of the early morning/late evening that blessedly did not contain a single question about the social/political/technological/theological/scatological/thaumatological changes that had swept over Equestria in the last several centuries.
Oh, fudge. Menace is going to have many of the same questions. Just because I’ve been learning from an alicorn for the last twelve years doesn’t mean I’m supposed to be teaching two of them for the next twelve. Or maybe it does…
She wandered along the path for a while, considering options to avoid the unwanted labor and coming up with nothing other than hoping Unicorn Magic Youth Educational Specialist Green Grass would be willing to act as an information sponge to be wrung out repeatedly whenever he got tired of of living in the mountains with the griffons and returned to Ponyville.
Well, and possibly some other things. Technically, he was her husband. And she had a bed. And it still had been a long time.
As she neared the library oak, Trixie had to step off the path several times to make way for several of the town’s more bulky and muscular stallions, each pulling a cart or wagon filled with somewhat familiar boxes. She muffled a series of Great and Powerful yawns as she checked to make sure the library was still there, not on fire, and still vaguely in the same location before pulling one of the older stallions in the vicinity to one side.
“Hey. Um. Davenport. What’s…” She waved a hoof at the traffic around the library in lieu of a redundant verbose description of what could be obviously seen.
“Madam Trixie!” Davenport beamed a brilliant smile that caught the first rays of the rising sun and glinted into Trixie’s eyes rather painfully. “Your student contacted us to move your excess professional supplies into storage at the completed section of Town Hall. She wanted to pay us, but we insisted that it would be no trouble at all, and we’re even going to cover the storage fees since there wasn’t going to be anything stored there for a month or two anyway. While we were loading, I happened to notice something, though.” He produced a clipboard and a pen while continuing. “The furnishings in that old tree—”
“Yeah, right,” muttered Trixie, taking the pen and signing at the bottom of the clipboard as Davenport somehow managed to just radiate joy. “Now could I just—”
“—Let you talk to Mister Breezy while I attend to the details? Of course. Let me just… Big Fan, where’s your father?” Davenport was looking at a rather tall wall of creamy tan with a rather large fan on it that on closer inspection turned out to be a huge young stallion with a shy smile, and a clipboard.
“Dad’s helping Little Fan with the wagon. He wanted me to—”
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Trixie, signing at the bottom of the clipboard and adding, “To my Biggest Fan.”
The big stallion’s smile grew larger as he accepted the clipboard back. “Gee, thanks Miss Trixie. Hey, have you met Firelock’s father, Sparks, of Fireplaces and Fountains?”
“Good to see you, Miss Trixie,” said a fairly small cinnamon-shaded unicorn who slipped up next to Big Fan. Sparks produced a clipboard much like the rest as he talked, waving it in front of Trixie’s nose until she grabbed it with her magic and slapped an autograph on the bottom of it like the previous ones.
“Thank you, Miss Trixie,” he said, taking the clipboard back and beaming nearly as broadly as Big Fan. “Have you met Mister Grout of Grout’s Sinks and Dishes?” He gestured another stallion forward, who had a clipboard much like the rest, and which Trixie autographed nearly automatically.
“...Mister Nyet of Carpets, Pots and Bulbs…”
“...Mister Odds of Beds, Doorknobs, and Brooms…”
“...Mister Biceps of Snowflake’s Weights and Garden Rakes⁽*⁾…”
“...Mister Napes of Napes Drapes…”
“...Missus Powers of Teacups and Flowers…”
“...Mister Floris of Beets, Shoots, and Leaves, Ponyville’s premiere landscaper…”
“...Miss Sights of Lights and Records…”
“…Peppermint of Troop 17.”
Holding her quill suspended for a moment, Trixie looked down at the little filly scout, all dressed up in her scout uniform with her scout merit badges. “You don’t want an autograph?”
“No, Ma’am,” she replied, pulling a catalog out of her filly scout sidesaddle. “Our troop is selling cookies this fall for our jamboree trip. We have Alfalfa Chewies, Fudge Dipped Swirls, Cocoanutties, and a few boxes of Milo Poppers left.”
It was silly. All Trixie wanted to do was to stagger up to her bed and land nose-first until dinnertime. Still, cookies. And also… cookies. It was a Great and Powerful motivation.
“Three boxes of Cocoanutties and a box of Milo Poppers,” she responded.
“Thank you, Ma’am. That’ll be twenty bits,” said the little filly, carefully marking the appropriate boxes on the form.
“No prob—” Trixie paused with her hoof on her cape. The little compartment she used to carry bits was completely flat except for the two-headed bit she used for ‘educational’ purposes. “Could Trixie pay you tomorrow?” she asked with her best smile, which at this hour of the morning could probably have scared the scales off Spike.
“No problem,” said the little filly, pulling out a clipboard. “You can put it on a payment plan like the rest of them.”
* * *
Trying not to think of just what she had been signing, Trixie trudged in the library front door and observed the huge empty space that the removal of her boxes had created. It was weird, because even as groggy as she was, the library lobby somehow seemed larger than it had been when she first moved in. Bizarre as it was, the thought did not even slow her hooves.
However, the sight of Twilight Sparkle laying on her belly in the middle of the library floor and scribbling fiercely on a piece of paper stopped Trixie cold.
“Hey. Menace.” Trixie looked around, but there was no sign of the rest of the demolition crew or the supposed chaperone that Luna had supposedly convinced into helping keep an eye on the Insurance Rate Raisers Crusaders, Yay. “Where are your friends?” she added, preparing to dodge out of the way of the inevitable upcoming explosion.
“Out,” she replied, still scribbling as fast as she could. “Getting things. Projector. Ropes. Research project. Featherweight says his uncle has some films about flying. Afterwards, we can test Scoot’s wings.” She held the paper up and showed it to Trixie, revealing a somewhat crude image of a pegasus in the middle of a spider’s web, but smiling and with wings outspread.
“Ah. Suspended wirework.” A small spark of pride floated up from Trixie’s memories and she added, “Trixie played the role of Princess Whinnyfred in our school production of Once Upon a Mattress, so I’m completely familiar with the theory. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Tomorrow.”
“Okay.” The little alicorn put the paper down and fixed those dangerous eyes on Trixie in an unblinking and concerned look that indicated a dangerous unasked question lurking behind them. As much as Trixie wanted to go upstairs and crash on her lumpy bed until nighttime, the recent exposure to Luna made her pause and encourage Twilight with a small smile and a friendly nod.
“Yes, Menace? You had a question?”
The little alicorn fidgeted some more before blurting out, “Did your parents send you away for not being able to use magic like Scootaloo?”
“Of course not.” Trixie fought back a scowl as she continued with as positive an attitude as she could muster. “Trixie was able to use her magic from a very young age, and extraordinarily well. That’s why my parents took me to Celestia’s school. Where I met you,” she added somewhat uncomfortably.
“I know. I remember. Most of it. You were afraid.”
“Trixie was…” Trixie paused, wanting to add ‘not’ but unable to actually say the word. “Trixie was nervous,” she added. “Understandably so. Neigh Orleans is such an earth pony place, and Canterlot… isn’t. When Trixie succeeded, Trixie would be living far away from the ponies I had grown up with in a strange place.”
“And no friends,” added the little alicorn.
“And no friends,” confirmed Trixie with a shrug. “That, at least, was no different than home.”
“Did your parents visit?” Twilight pulled out a second sheet of paper and spread it across the library floor. It was a railroad map of Equestria with schedules and prices carefully annotated, but what she was doing with it was beyond Trixie.
“Eh… Maybe once or twice. I didn’t really keep track.”
“Would you want them to visit you now?” The little alicorn squirmed and pushed the train schedule a few millimeters in Trixie’s direction. “Twenty-two bits a ticket, round trip.”
“Not right now,” admonished Trixie. “There are so many things going on right now that I really wouldn't have time for them.”
Much like they never had time for me. Not even a single visit.
“Oh.” Twilight drooped, and perked back up slightly. “If they did visit, you’d still meet with them, right?”
“Of course!” insisted Trixie. “They’re family. And I’d have Uncle Quartermoon show you the family trick about pulling a bit out from behind your ear.”
And after that, I’ll have him show you the trick where he makes every bottle of bourbon in your house vanish.
* * *
After a short trip upstairs on a staircase that Trixie could have sworn was twice as long as before, and then a short trip back downstairs, she paused at where Twilight Sparkle was passing a pair of envelopes to a familiar batwinged stallion. The Royal Courier was all smiles, as usual, with his traditional sunglasses pushed up on his forehead to deal with the relative darkness inside the fairly shadowy library. She waited patiently while the dark pegasus tucked the envelopes away, gave a graceful bow to Twilight as if she were a crowned princess, and turned in her direction with a welcome smile.
“Good morning, Lady Trixie. I have a letter for you.”
“Lady Trixie?” Trixie paused as she floated the thick package of papers away from the courier. “Oh, yeah. Greenie. You know, Som, this is the first time you’ve met Trixie that you haven’t proposed something—” Trixie glanced at Twilight, who appeared to be scribbling diligently away at her drawing except with one ear pointed in their direction “—less than suitable for young ponies.”
The smiling pegasus swept into a deep bow. “Your wedding was the world’s loss, m’lady. Have you any correspondence for His Lordship?”
“No. Oh, yes.” With a gesture of her horn, an envelope flew down the stairs and over to the handsome stallion, who tucked it away in his saddlebags with the others. “How is Greenie doing?”
“Fairly well. The griffons are keeping him quite busy, but he’s still managing to interview most of the aerie.” Trixie caught the uncomfortable twitch at the corner of the courier’s mouth, as well as a cold shiver that traveled down his flanks that practically telegraphed a certain degree of his discomfort about traveling into the middle of a group of grouchy griffons. As much as the courier tried to hide it, he was deeply concerned for Green Grass’ safety, which did not really make Trixie very comfortable at the thought either.
“Well, keep an eye on him.” She watched at the courier spread his dragon-like wings and flew off to his next appointed delivery, trying not to appreciate his trim flanks and windblown mane too much, as she was now a married mare. Once he was out of sight, Trixie turned to the small alicorn, but was interrupted before she could open her mouth.
“Mister Davenport brought you a new couch.” One small purple hoof pointed to a creamy white piece of furniture, covered in soft artificial fur and practically crying out for a pony to wallow in its comfort and sink down for a few hours of slumber.
“Um. Yes. Trixie was wondering. There seems to be no bed in Trixie’s bedroom.”
“He took it with the old couch,” said Twilight, not stopping in her drawing for a moment. “Moved contents. Said new bed was backordered. Delivery next week. Loaner.”
“Ahh… Trixie signed to buy a new bed, didn’t she?”
“And fireplace, and lights, and ceiling fan, and landscaping, and kitchen stuff. The couch is Try Until You Buy Ninety Days Same As Cash Generous Credit Terms Apply with Free Disposal at Time Of Sale, No Charge.” Twilight changed crayon colors and began adding strain gages to her drawing while Trixie looked at the large familiar bedsheet stretched across the bookshelves.
“There’s the screen. Looks like all Trixie’s theatre is missing is popcorn.”
Keeping the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth to aid her concentration, Twilight continued to draw. “Popcorn is weird. It blows up, and then you eat it. Spike went to get some. The new Deluxe Popcorn Popper With Auto-Stirring Feature And Rapid Preheat is in the kitchen. Thank you.”
“Eh.” Trixie waved a dismissive hoof while trudging over to the soft and inviting couch. “Maybe later. Just try to keep your movies quiet while Trixie sleeps, please. After all, this is a library.”
Whatever Twilight said in reply was missed as Trixie wallowed forward into the soft couch, nearly having to swim forward to get all the way scooted onto it, and then shifting positions slightly to get situated. It was the most exquisitely comfortable and warm couch she had ever rested upon, and it dragged her down into slumber with effortless ease, even though Trixie could not help but wonder for a moment just why the cushions smelled like Rarity’s conditioner.
~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~
Filthy Rich was somewhat of an oddity among earth ponies. He liked straight lines. The straight lines under a balance sheet with neatly organized numbers in perfect columns, straight rows of merchandise in the store, carefully organized and arranged so customers would not have to stretch or stoop for the most popular items, and a straight line to work in the morning before the sun had even touched the horizon. It was so much easier than trying to deal with Diamond Tiara in the morning, with her endless excuses for not heading out the door to school in order to spend just a few extra moments with her favorite pony in Equestria. It was nice, but it was an uncomfortable reminder of early mornings in business school at Manehattan, and Filligree’s equal reluctance to greet the morning that even diligent attempts by her youthful coltfriend with coffee and fresh doughnuts often was not enough to get her to their morning classes on time.
Not that their early mornings were wasted. No, most definitely not wasted at all.
The small faded picture sitting on his desk brought a smile to his face for a short while before he put the moment behind himself and returned to the untidy piles of paper. He was always careful to cover the picture with Diamond Tiara’s photograph on the rare occasions she visited his office, and he could not help but notice how much alike they seemed now that Diamond had gotten a little older.
“Mister Rich?” announced the intercom on his desk. “You have a visitor.”
“Do they have an appointment?” he replied, almost positive that he could hear “I’ll pick you up at ten” in the background.
“He’s a Royal Courier,” said his secretary, adding in a rough whisper that was probably not supposed to go across the intercom, “Stop nibbling on my neck! He’ll hear you.”
“Send him in please, Miss Henweigh,” he said before a careful press to the intercom’s ‘off’ button.
After a few moments, a tall and quite handsome grey stallion wearing sunglasses and a sharp Royal Courier cap strode into his office. At first glance, the sunglasses seemed excessive in the confines of the office, but a second glance showed the broad expanse of membranous wings tucked up on the stallion’s flanks that indicated the courier was one of Luna’s nocturne pegasi, who were not normally seen during the daytime.
“Good morning,” said the stallion, his hoof already reaching out to grasp Rich’s similarly extended limb for a brisk shake. “I am Courier Insomnia of the Royal Equestrian Courier Service. You would be Filthy Rich, father to Diamond Tiara, correct?”
“Yes, I am,” said Rich with a mixture of foreboding over whatever Diamond might have possibly done to gather the attention of Princess Luna and a sense of anticipation along the same lines.
“I have a letter for you.” He retrieved it from his saddlebag and hoofed it over to Filthy Rich before standing rather calmly in place, obviously waiting for the letter to be opened. At Rich’s curious look, the courier continued, “I have orders to remain until after you have read the letter, and then to return any response you might have to the sender.”
“Hm. That’s odd,” said Rich as he applied a letter opener to the stiff envelope and examined the contents. Raising one eyebrow to look at the impassive courier, he added, “This must be some sort of joke. It’s written in crayon.”
“It’s no joke, I assure you,” said the courier.
“It has to be,” said Rich, holding the letter in one hoof. “Listen to this. Dear Diamond Tiera’s daddy. Your daughter was mean to Scootaloo and almost got her killed. This letter is to tell you what she did so you can punish her. Signed, Princess Flower Twilight Monster.” He waved the letter at the courier. “It’s not funny, Courier Insomnia. I want you to tell me who sent this letter so that I can have them arrested and thrown in jail.”
“Twilight Sparkle. And I have a second letter from her which is to be delivered to Diamond Tiara’s mother.”
Filthy Rich paused with his mouth open and his mind whirling in confusion. After a long moment, he sat down at his desk and placed the letter in front of him, clearing away the stacks of paper with one sweep of a hoof. “According to the newspapers, Twilight Sparkle is in Neighpal, consulting with the Wise Gnus of the Golden Hoof.”
The courier shrugged. “According to my own eyes, just a few minutes ago Twilight Sparkle was in the Ponyville Golden Oak library, under the supervision of Trixie Lulamoon, Princess Celestia’s private student.”
“Wait. She’s a little alicorn, isn’t she?” asked Filthy Rich with mixed shock and possibly horror.
“Yes,” said Insomnia, although after a moment he added, “Twilight. Not Trixie. Thank the stars.”
After examining the folded piece of paper for nearly a minute, Filthy Rich sat it to one side. “Courier Insomnia, I’ve never been able to find Diamond’s mother. As far as I know, she’s still in Manehattan somewhere. She ran away when she found out she was with foal, and I was just barely lucky enough several months later to find Diamond at an orphanage. Since then, I’ve spent considerable money on investigators and taken trips back there several times every year in the hopes that I might see her in one of our favorite places, but I’ve never been able to find her. It’s like she evaporated into thin air after giving up Diamond for adoption.”
“We’ll find her,” said Insomnia with a small smile. “We always find them⁽¹⁾. Would you like us to pass along a message when we deliver the letter, Mister Rich?”
Without taking his eyes off the letter, Filthy Rich sat for a long, long time before taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “No. She ran away from me and hid. I thought we had something special, but I’ve just been deluding myself all these years. She doesn’t want anything to do with me or our daughter. Just throw that letter away, Courier Insomnia. It will save your organization a lot of futile searching.”
“No, sir. The Royal Equestrian Courier Service does not fail.”
“If you say so,” said Rich with a dismissive wave of one hoof. “Go on, and let me get back to work.”
“Just as soon as you’ve read the letter, sir.” The courier nodded towards the folded piece of paper.
With a stiff frown, Filthy Rich began unfolding the paper. “It’s just—”
* * *
The courier remained in his relaxed stance in front of the businesspony’s desk, trying not to smile as he thought about the little alicorn filly who had floated the two letters over to him with such a serious expression that she could have been Princess Celestia, entrusting him with a peace treaty that needed to be flown halfway around the world. With his trips back and forth between the Misty Mountains aerie and Ponyville, he had gotten fairly used to seeing the little alicorn in whatever disguise she wore, but he still could not feel really comfortable around her.
After all, he had looked up to Princess Celestia for most of his career, as well as any occasional delivery tasked by Princess Cadence, both of whom were taller than he was. Even Princess Luna, who was more beautiful and powerful than he had imagined, still topped his height by at least a hoof, not counting the horn. To think of an alicorn’s power packed into a young filly the size of his niece was a little frightening, particularly after reading the deep background information on Twilight Sparkle. For many weeks, he had not really wanted to believe what he had read.
Then his mind was abruptly changed by events.
Finding your body being twisted in the middle of a long flight and then hearing directly from Princess Luna several days later that the little foal currently drawing with crayons in the library had been at her side assisting during the transformation that had swept over all of the Nocturne in Equestria had been… weird.
Almost as weird as the reaction that Filthy Rich was having to the folded piece of paper he had just opened. The earth pony was frozen in place with wide eyes and a tremor to the muscles over his back as if he were attempting to flap nonexistent wings. His breathing alternated between rapid and shallow, with little squeaks of fear and flinches away from unseen dangers, then slowed to a gentle pace as tears began to fall. The middle-aged stallion sat there for a long time with the damp paper opened up on the desk before setting it to one side and taking a long, shuddering breath.
“Are you all right, sir?” asked Insomnia, trying to figure out if he should go call for help or scoop up the heavy stallion and fly him directly to the hospital.
“Yes,” said Filthy Rich after a considerable pause.
After waiting a full minute for any more words, Insomnia asked, “Will you be sending a response?”
“No.” With trembling hooves, Filthy Rich placed the damp crayon-scrawled letter back into the envelope and tucked it away in his jacket pocket as if it were a check for a million bits. Scooting his chair away from the desk, he moved with a deliberate tread to the office door and opened it for Insomnia.
“That will be all, Courier Insomnia. Please pass along my thanks for your delivery to the sender. I’ll make my response later, after I’ve had a little talk with my daughter.”
(*) There was a constant theme among Ponyville’s merchants that just because a store happened to carry a complete inventory of certain items, did not preclude the same store from carrying a number of completely different and unrelated items. In addition to having all the weight equipment needed for proper body building, Bulk Biceps also sold an assortment of garden rakes, and could be hired for odd jobs around the town such as raking, carrying, and cart-pulling, or any task where he could apply his strength against a difficult issue. On weekends, he also helped Fluttershy take care of the animals.
(1) The Royal Equestrian Courier Service goes through great lengths to find the recipient of each of Princess Celestia’s letters and deliver them, no matter what. Once, Princess Celestia passed a Thank You card to the RECS addressed to ‘That nice young colt in Hockworthy who said my mane looked pretty.’ After careful examination of her schedule, it was determined that the last Royal Visit to the town had taken place almost forty years ago. Census records were retrieved, considerable cross-referencing took place, and in the end, the RECS made four-hundred and seventy six copies of the note and delivered them all across Equestria, some even to the respective headstone in local cemeteries.
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Monster is pretty good with magic. Words, not so much. Fortunately, there are substitutes.
Geez the RECS doesn't mess around.
Nice nod to The Travelling Tutor. How did Green fall for Trixie though?
The leter to diamond tiara's mother says , go to sleeeeep...
lol
more please
Who knows, DT may end up a half decent pony after all.
6102741 Chapter 27. It only goes to show that Trixie is not the only pony who signs things without reading them.
6102763 But what about the other half? Plus just where do you cut to divide the two? And how big of a chainsaw would you use?
6102758 No, her letter pretty much says the same thing. Or shows would be more accurate, since Monster isn't too good with words.
6102741 If I recall correctly, pretty much the same way she got her new furniture... signing paperwork without reading it first!
6102789
6102785
Thanks. I realised I read this story before travelling Tutor, so I missed the reference reading it the first time.
6102785 She keeps her true personality
6102785
You don't use a chainsaw for this! You use an ethereal blade to carve her soul from her body, and then you have a perfectly preserved flesh golem.
You love to torture Trixie, don't you? Nevermind that without her, Twilight Monster Sparkle would be dead. Yeah she has her flaws, but making her scrap for money when she has to take care of a little PRINCESS filly is a tad too much. Not to mention the severe mental traumas she has, TRAUMAS SHE HAD NO HELP WHATSOEVER WITH, and are the reason for her heavy drinking.
I see what you did there.
I get what happened with the letter now. It's enchanted to show what happened. That was smart. Now I know he definitely got the message of what D.T. did. At least I only have to wait a day for the next chapter this time!
If it's not too much trouble, Georg, could you tell me if the intro has a more significant meaning than just leading into the chapter? Talking about runes made of roads sounds foreboding... It didn't seem to go anywhere but into Trixie liking curved roads, though, and if it was just an interesting lead-in, then I'd prefer to know........
6102785
Did I miss something? Was there some kind of psychic message on the note? Because what we read doesn't seem all that intimidating...
Dang, it was nice to read some more of this fic. I love your style. So many plot threads!
6103047
Hm, I don't believe Trixie has to provide for Twilight in any material fashion - after all, Twilight actually lives with her adoptive mother Zecora, right there in Ponyville. And Menace is kinda rich enough herself to cause a dragon go green with envy anyway. Twilight has simply claimed the library as her personal hang out spot (because book! And she kinda likes Trixie), which is why she is around there often, but "taking care" of her doesn't really involve any expense on Trixie's part.
Is that the explanation we're going for? Well then. In any case, I loved that ethnographic study on roads and what they say about ponies.
Trixie may be having family over. She really just shouldn't let herself get very tired, or otherwise impair her judgment.
And Twilight has clearly taken "Show, don't tell" to heart, to terrifying effect. Still, not even Filthy Rich will be able to ignore this.
Another enjoyable chapter. Well done.
6103073 I bet it has something to do with the zebra shamans Tallgrass is currently leading to Ponyville, because he really made a point of saying that ponies don't notice it.
6103155 We only read the introduction i think. The courier insisted that Filthy Rich continue reading after all. Not sure if there were only words in that letter though. Might be enchanted somehow.
So Earth Ponies are hobbits then?
Quite a bit of bleed through from the Lunaverse on show and maybe a touch of the Triptichverse
I love when this updates, it really has that perfect feel to it.
That first part about roads was a bit weird, but nice nonetheless.
6103304
Books, and reforming the library, also teaching her. She is also teaching Luna, yet the author seems determined to make Trixie bankrupt. She basically lost her stipend from being Celestia student since Town Hall took it, and now she had to teach both Monster and Luna for free.
6103677
Ooooh, that is a good idea. I hope you're right!
So Mr. Rich had to track Diamond down and get her out of an orphanage after his pregnant girlfriend ditched him and dumped her? Geez...whatever Tiara might be like now, he deserves at least 1 retroactive father of the year award for that.
The ride never ended it seems, time for round 2.
6104361 You know, that reminds me of a story I read. I believe it involved ... wait a second.
It was by this author. Rich's perspective on the backstory makes it sound much more sordid.
One of these things is not like the others!
Yay, new chapter! And another great one
I don't remember now, do we know what was on those letters Twi sent to DT's parents? If not, will we find out?
It must have been pretty deep considering Filthy's reaction.
RECS get ALL of my freaking respect. THAT is dedication.
Neat world-building with the curves and straight lines and roads and runes inscribed across the country.
Oh god, those store name puns!
Diamond Tiara is so going to get her mother back or at least located out of this, isn't she?
6102741
I don't think he did exactly, unless you were referring to the past. Monster/Menace/Twilight kind of tied them up with a pretty bow.
6103047
Well, maybe not dead. Still, she's hardly been compensated for all the shenanigans that happened.
6103304
I believe she is burdened with a number of different things involving Twilight, even if I can't recall the exact details. Isn't she the Princess' student in this story anyway? There is no reason for her to be unable to purchase even a few luxuries here and there.
P.S.
plans?
6103944 Well, they're short and have furry hooves....
And the picture was done by one of my favorite artists, MuffinExplosion
6135819 No, Plat is the correct word for this context. For example, here are ownership plat books for a big chunk of Kansas. It's more official and more surveyed than just a plain map.
6111248 If you look *really* carefully in Chapter 47 (upcoming), you will see Diamond Tiara's mother. Don't blink.
6104361 And Scootaloo metaphorically kicks him right in the jimmies in the chapter I just published. Poor Mister Rich.
6105160 Yeah, that's a great story!
6103155 So does the currently published chapter answer your question?
6102789 I can see Trixie "What do you mean, I signed to donate a kidney?"
Sentient growing tree homes... nice.
Also love this bit:
6103056 Is it a reference to Bedknobs and Broomsticks?
6488783 That's my take on it.
laguna macoytes tracorum saytiss dee!
(2) The RECS has even been instrumental in the capture of a few wanted criminals with a knack for hiding due to a couple frustrated detectives sending a notice of arrest to said criminal by way of the RECS.
Diamond's in trouble, Diamond's in trouble, Diamond's in trouble...
7842550
For some reason, I don't doubt that
hahahahahaha
She is an incredibly capable Alicorn despite her young physical age.
So his name is No?
7842550
I'm not the only one who's amused by this right?
9178159 Doctor No, if you please. He didn't spend six years in Evil Pottery School just to be called Mister.