> Apple Bloom's Day In Food Court
>  by Wise Cracker
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Horn of Plenty, and The Colt It's Attached To
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apple Bloom had been turning her head this way and that ever since she’d gotten off the train. She didn’t gasp much, though, until she saw her final destination: a giant convention hall, made up of four different pavilions, each a pristine-looking mass of glass and steel, forming a clover leaf shape, at least when seen from above.

The Four-Leaf Clover Building. She was finally going to see the inside of Vanhoover’s most iconic structure, at a perfect time of the year for it, and with the perfect companion joining her, too.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Grand Pear said.

“I’ll say. So this is the Vanhoover Food Court,” Apple Bloom said as she walked to the building, following the mess of ponies who all had the same plans for the day.  

“Yup,” Grand Pear replied. “Biggest annual gathering of farmers, juicers, bakers, you name it. Anypony who’s anypony in the food business comes here.”

Apple Bloom let out a little pout. “Not everypony: Granny Smith’s never been here. She never even mentioned it to us.” They slowed down and broke off from the crowds, taking a side route away from most of the visitors.  

“Oh, now, she has been here, rest assured, lots of times.” The stallion chuckled. “She just stopped going after a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I was here, of course, waiting.” He sighed. “Every single year.”

“Grand Pear!” a male voice called out. “Over here!” It came from one of the side entrances, behind a set of metal fences.  

“That’s our cue,” Grand Pear joked, passing through the fence when it opened for him. “Follow me, now, and don’t mind if ponies act a little funny around here.”

“Funny, how?”

He looked away pensively, before smirking ever so slightly. “Mmm, I have a reputation in these circles, and so do the Apples. Ponies might gawk at ya a little. In a good way, I hope.”

Apple Bloom nodded, and the Earth pony stallion at the staff entrance greeted them both with a tip of his straw hat. “Glad you could make it, Grand Pear.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Bulrush.” Grand Pear replied.

She looked him over for a moment. Brown coat, darker brown mane, and some kind of reed growing by a puddle for a cutie mark, this guy had all the appearance of a strong draft horse like her brother, but without the thick hooves and limbs to support his frame. If anything, he reminded her more of the swimmers she’d seen in Granny Smith’s old photos.

The entrance pony rummaged through a box of badges and put one on the old stallion’s scarf. “There we go, sir, your personal badge. And one for your companion.”

Apple Bloom took the badge and fiddled with a little to get it stuck to her bow.  

“I didn’t think you were taking on apprentices yet, Grand Pear,” the stallion said. “Certainly not someone so young.”

Grand Pear’s ears flicked, and a grin appeared on his face. “Oh, this isn’t an apprentice, this is my granddaughter. Apple Bloom, this is Bulrush, one of the organisers of this here event.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Apple Bloom extended a hoof, which the stallion shook, carefully, looking her dead in the eyes.  

His expression shifted, from confusion to surprise to what Apple Bloom presumed was recognition. “Well, I’ll be darned, now that you mention it. The family resemblance is striking, it’s like looking at an old picture. Uncle Zulu’ll love to meet her.”

“I brought her along to see the sights,” Grand Pear said before Bulrush could add anything more. “Is there anything out of the ordinary this year? Anything to look out for?”

“Anything that’s not child-proof, you mean? Well, we’ve got some yaks this year, they’ve brought some of their farming equipment. I wouldn’t let a filly wander around that stand unsupervised.” He winced and gestured to Apple Bloom in apology. “Not that I don’t trust you, little one, but yak steel is awful sharp, and they don’t seem to have the best sense of safety precautions, either, if you catch my drift.”

Apple Bloom didn’t take any offense at the remark. If anything, she was getting more trust and respect than she got from her sister, sometimes. “I understand, I’ve got plenty of other stuff I can see, I’m sure.”

“And Poppy?” Grand Pear asked, with a hint of dread and a dash of annoyance in his voice.

Right at that moment, there came a cry that sent shivers down Apple Bloom’s spine, all the way to her tail tip.  

“Grand Pear! So glad you could make it! I was getting worried there for a second, what with that terrible fright you gave us last time. How’s the heart?” A Unicorn mare approached them, one wearing a flat straw hat with a badge like Grand Pear’s and Apple Bloom’s.  

Apple Bloom’s ears pricked. “Fright? Heart?”

“Nice to see you again, too, Poppy,” Grand Pear replied casually. He smirked and let an edge bleed into his voice. “How’s the family?”

Getting a closer look at the mare, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but notice this one had a bit of fuzz on her legs, her hocks to be specific. It almost looked like spurs, which was odd for a mare who couldn’t have been any older than Missus Cake, as most ponies would get that trimmed for fashion’s sake. Still, it made her stand out, and Apple Bloom figured the mare probably liked standing out. Other than that, Poppy was a regular light blue Unicorn with a poppy seed bun for a cutie mark, and a purplish red mane and tail done up in a Southern style, if cut shorter than usual for that region. Apple Bloom’s nose curled. Something in her gut told her this Unicorn was a salespony first, not a craftspony or a farmer.  

“Oh, you know, busy busy, as usual, so much ambition and so little time to chase it in. And who’s this?” Poppy took a closer at the look at the filly. Unlike Bulrush, Poppy looked like she stifled a grin when she recognised Apple Bloom. “Surely you didn’t… are you an Apple, by any chance?”

“Yes, Ma’am. My name’s Apple Bloom.”

“Goodness,” Poppy replied with a dramatic flair, waving her horn around so much she could have taken out someone’s eye. “And here you are with Grand Pear. I take it your side of the family has buried the hatchet, then?”

“Why, yes, Poppyhock, she’s Granny Smith’s littlest youngin’.” Grand Pear gritted his teeth. “I don’t need to remind you who she is, do I? Little Apple Bloom here made the papers when she got that boy Troublehooves back on his hooves, she’s on speaking terms with Princess Twilight as well the royal family of the Seapony Kingdom, and she was a flag-bearer for Ponyville at the last Equestria Games? That Apple Bloom? I’m sure even a mare as busy as you would have heard of her.”

“Ah, the brains of the family, of course. It’s always nice to meet a foal of some repute.” Poppyhock nodded in greeting. “Especially a filly with a good head on her shoulders.” She rolled her eyes. “Plenty enough of the other kind stomping around.”

“Umm, thanks?” Apple Bloom replied.  

“So are you backing out of the judging, then?” Poppy asked. “The squash competition will start in fifteen minutes, and the cucumber contest is double booked again. We’re going to have to hoof it from one to the other if we want to save face. Of course, if you’re feeling too weak and you’d rather spend the day with your granddaughter, I’m sure I can get the others to find some alternative...”

“No, no, I was just catching up with Bulrush here,” Grand Pear said. “Apple Bloom’s a big girl, she can take care of herself for a while, right?”

“Yup!” Apple Bloom replied with a bright smile, putting on her best country drawl for the mare. “I’m just here to see the sights in an official-like capacity, I don’t need a chaperone.”

Poppyhock smiled in approval. “Well, then, if I might make a suggestion: Cherry Jubilee brought her rodeo game along again. If you’d like to measure up against other Earth ponies, she has a whole set-up to check her prospective recruits. Good thing, too: it’s so hard to find good help these days.”

“Why don’t you run along,” Grand Pear started. “I’ll take care of business with the contests, you can look around all you like, we’ll meet back up around noon. If anypony asks, just tell them you’re here with Grand Pear. That badge is for official business, so don’t be shy about acting a little...”

“Like I own the place?”

“Like you’re checking things out for real.” The stallion winked. “And while you’re at it, keep your eyes peeled for anything genuinely interesting. I’ll come around once I get my duties done, we can check out the really fancy stuff together.”

“Got it.” Apple Bloom nodded.  

“And don’t let anyone bamboozle you, either,” Bulrush added. “Ponies around here take their business seriously, but some of’em a little less seriously than others, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh, right, that. Thanks, Bulrush.” Grand Pear nodded and turned to leave. “Keep your head about you in there, Apple Bloom.”

“Will do,” she replied, before watching him trot behind Miss Poppyhock to get to whatever important duties he might have.  

Well, guess I get to uphold the family name in here for a bit.  





Apple Bloom made her way through the aisles of fruit stands. At the entrance, it was standard fair: snacks, drinks, all the things one would want for a day-trip, either to eat for lunch or to eat on the way home.  

A little further down in the aisles of Hall 1, she got her first surprise: a stand managed by an older mare, a light purple one who was a dead ringer for Twilight Sparkle’s grandmother, except for the poofy curled mane. She even wore librarian-style reading glasses and everything. The fruits for sale –  if they could even be called be fruits, they looked so strange – caught the filly’s eye.  

“Canterlot Quartz Quinces?” Apple Bloom asked, pointing at the odd-looking produce. “What are these?”

“It’s a very rare and delicate type of quince, originally from the Crystal Empire,” the mare replied. “The orchard in Canterlot was the only thing left of the whole Empire after it disappeared. These things have been kept for a thousand years, and they’re still considered a delicacy.”

Apple Bloom stood on her hind hooves to get a better look at the things. Like the name implied, the fruits had a crystal-like appearance to them, and a shine that she presumed was magical. “And what do you do with’em?”

The mare, now noticing the badge on Apple Bloom’s ribbon, held up a hoof in a formal gesture. “Oh, now, these fruits are magical, of course. They are grown specifically for students of magic. Quartz, you see, it balances out unstable magic, and Quartz Quinces offer the same benefits as the crystals themselves. Mostly we sell to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, but now that the Empire is back and we can stop worrying about the trees going extinct, the market’s expanded a little, mostly for fancy restaurants and such, a bit like truffles. As to how they’re grown, well, eh… it requires some jumping through hoops.”

“Tough trees to manage, huh?” Apple Bloom asked.

“No, I mean literally.” The mare cringed. “We have to get our pickers to jump through hoops in front of the trees, otherwise the silly things refuse to drop. And yes, that sounds ridiculous, but-”

“Oh, no, I know. Magic is as magic does. My family grows Zap Apples, we get the same kinda problems.”

“I’m sure you do.” The mare flashed her a dismissive smile. “There are many trees labelled as Zap Apple trees, all magical.”

“No, I’m serious,” Apple Bloom insisted. “We’ve got the original ones from the Everfree Forest. When the season rolls around, we draw polka dots on our walls and everything.”

“Polka dots?” The old mare adjusted her glasses and leaned in closer. She pricked up her ears when she realised. “Oh, bite my tail, you must be Grand Pear’s granddaughter.”  

The girl’s ears shot up with pride. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m from Ponyville.”

“The infamous Apple family, I know.” She nodded. “It’s a pleasure to see one of your kin back here after so many years. You’re from Granny Smith’s side of the family, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.” Apple Bloom smiled brightly. “I’m here with Grand Pear, I’m just doin’ the rounds while he’s busy.”

“Ah, yes, he does keep busy. A little too much sometimes, if you ask me. With his old ticker winding down like it is...”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. You come by again when he’s done, so we can catch up. I’ll drag some stories outta him you’d never hear in Ponyville.” The mare winked.  

“Will do.”

Walking along, not much caught her eye or ear the way the crystal fruits did, at least until the smell of pond growth hit her nose.

“Get yer freshly grown seaweed right here!” A stallion called out, a green Unicorn at that, with a very neatly styled mane and tail. “Yes, sir, this here fertilizer is guaranteed to make your garden squeaky clean.”

Apple Bloom walked up to the stand. As before, the owner immediately looked at the badge on her bow and went into a sales pitch. “Good day to you, young Madam. Can I interest you in the secret of the Seapony Kingdom? Freshly harvested kelp, straight from the depths, keeps your fields pristine and nourished!”

Apple Bloom furrowed her brow and smelled the stuff again. This guy had barrels of it right behind him, the odour lingered in the air, but only locally. He probably used a spell to keep it contained. She sniffed the air a third time to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood. “How does it work?”

“This particular seaweed has been farmed by Seaponies for ages, and it was used on Hippogryph fields centuries before the Storm King appeared. It contains micro-nutrients and probiotics that aid plant growth. A scoop for a pot, or perhaps a larger order for a field?”

“And what about the smell?” she asked, undistracted and undisturbed even as a small crowd formed around her, mares and stallions alike ooh-ing and ah-ing at this fancy new product.

“D’err, ahem, that passes after a while,” the stallion replied.

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Uhuh. Thanks, but I’m not in the market for seaweed fertiliser. And even if I was, I’m pretty sure this is plain old duckweed, anyway.”

Now the salespony started shaking, and his ears fell back as his eyes darted from one potential customer to the next. “N-no, little girl, this is seaweed straight from the Seapony Kingdom.”

Apple Bloom glared at the stallion. “Mister, as it so happens I’ve actually been to the Seapony Kingdom. I went underwater and everything, one of their royals used his pearl to slap gills and a tail on me. I’ve gone down there, I’ve seen what their kelp looks like and this right here is not their kelp. It’s not even regular kelp. This ain’t nothin’ but a regular old pond growth.” She made a point to smell it again where everyone could see. “This is a freshwater weed: it doesn’t even smell like the ocean.”

“It doesn’t?” He looked down, sniffed it, and quickly cast a spell to change his sign. “Now that you mention it, I must have packed the wrong barrels. Never fear, though, ladies and gentlemen: prime freshwater fertiliser right here! Grown from the mountain lakes in the Hippogryph lands!”

Apple Bloom groaned to herself and moved on. “Guess that’s what they mean by bamboozling. Darn posers.”

She didn’t get five paces further until she heard another Unicorn’s salespitch.  

“Special tonic, get yer miracle tonic right here!”

“I’m startin’ to think I took a wrong turn at Applecorky,” Apple Bloom muttered under her breath. She turned, saw what the mare was selling, and sighed as she approached the stand. “Let me guess: it’ll cure whatever ails ya? Heal broken bones, give you back your vitality?”

“You know our product.” The violet mare smiled down at the filly. “Yes, indeed, it’s a very special secret recipe, concocted by the foremost potion experts in the field.”

“Yeah, I know it alright,” came the reply. “You got it from Flim and Flam down in Las Pegasus. They didn’t even change the label from last time they tried to scam ponies into buying this stuff. Oh, and that secret recipe is apple and beet juice, by the way. We crank that stuff out by the barrel down in Ponyville.”

The mare froze. “Umm...”

Apple Bloom turned her back on the stand and moved on again. “Salesponies, ugh,” she muttered under her breath again. “If you’re gonna sell potions, sell potions, put some effort into it. I’m not even a grownup and I can make a potion.” She stopped herself. “Well, keepin’ in mind the restraining order, that is. Seriously, would it kill ya to show some respect, or at least not lie about your product?”

“You look like you could use a good drink.”

Her ears perked. A boy was looking at her: a Unicorn colt with a very light green coat, almost yellowish, and a burgundy mane that accentuated his deep red eyes. He was currently leaning on the counter of his surprisingly professional-looking lemonade stand. Behind him stood a machine that looked like a modified barrel with all sorts of doodads and gizmos piled into it, complete with a viewport cut into the middle and a tap at the end.  

“Depends,” she replied, approaching him. “What have you got?”

Then he stood up on his hind hooves to go into his sales pitch, and Apple Bloom instantly regretted talking to him. He spoke in a faux-fancy accent, speaking quickly so ponies wouldn’t stop and think about his actual words.  

“Only the finest product in these hallowed halls: it’s Strrring Bean’s Patented Press-O-Matic fruit and veggie juice. It’s a high-quality product, prrroduced entirely by magic supplied by yours truly.” He waved his arms about, pointing to the machine with all the flair of a showpony.  

Apple Bloom furrowed her brow and tilted her head. This kid looked and sounded awfully familiar. “Have we met before?”

He went back down to all fours and lowered his voice to normal speaking volume and speed. “Don’t think we have, no. I think I’d remember someone my age important enough to get that kind of badge, not to mention that cutie mark. And a talent for potion making, too?”

“Heh, you heard that?” She looked away, blushing.  

“Only because I noticed you,” he replied, before returning the favour and blushing. “D’err, I mean, because I noticed your badge and what you said at the other stalls and I figured you must be somepony important. And I only caught something about potions and a restraining order. And usually restraining orders mean you’re good at something. N-not that I’d know,” he stammered, before looking at the ceiling.  

“Well, yeah, potions is something I’m pretty good at. A little too good. Good enough to get in trouble, if you know what I mean.”

The boy tapped his horn and nodded. “Magic does that sometimes.”

The way he’d looked at the ceiling just then made her curious. Had he blown a hole in a roof once, perhaps? “It sure does.” Apple Bloom walked closer to the stand, inspecting him more closely. “And you’re sure we’ve never met?”

He squinted, smiling. “Very sure. But you do look familiar, now that you mention it. Are you famous or something?”

“My name’s Apple Bloom. I’m from the Apple family in Ponyville.”

He blinked, and Apple Bloom could have sworn he caught his breath when she said that. “Whoa. That’s a ‘yes’ on the famous, then.” He stared at her the way normal ponies stare at a Princess. “I’m String Bean. This is my juicer.” He nodded to his machine. “What are you having? It’s on the house.”

She took a step back. “I couldn’t.”

“Please, I insist.” He gestured to her bow. “You’ve got a badge, after all, and the Apples haven’t been to this Court in years, decades, even. Hey, where’s their booth?” He looked past her, left and right. “I’d love to get their opinion on this.”

“They ain’t here: rodeo down in Appleloosa.” She shrugged. “It’s just me here, and my grandpa, Grand Pear.”

His ears fell back. “Oh. You’re from that part of the Apple family.”

“I’m from both sides, actually: Grand Pear is my grandpa on my mother’s side, most of my family is from the Ponyville side, the pioneers,” she explained. “Is that a problem?” What is with this colt? Why do I feel like I know him?

“No, no, not a problem at all. You’re sure you don’t want to try it, then? A drink, I mean.”

As badly as things had gone so far, she didn’t want to be too rude, at least not to this boy. He seemed honest enough. “What do you put in it?”  

“All sorts of things. Would you like something sweet, sour-ish, or something you’ve never tried before?”

Apple Bloom’s left eyebrow went right up at that. “I’ve had a lot of fruits to taste from, Mister, I don’t think you can really surprise me.”

He smirked and leaned over the counter. “Sounds like a challenge.”

She leaned in close enough to almost bump his nose. “Consider yourself challenged, then, Mister Bean.”

He winked and got to work, his every move in that just a tad showy, annoying salespony fashion she’d learned to notice and hate thanks to-

Flim and Flam. 

That’s why he looked so familiar: he had the same manestyle as Flim and Flam, along with a few of their mannerisms, even his colours were alike, aside from the lack of white stripes in his mane and tail. Only thing missing besides that was his voice, still a bit high and boyish in pitch. 

“One Vanhoover Flag, comin’ right up.”

“Okay, this I gotta see.” She quickly abandoned that thought, though, when she saw him get out a flowerpot filled with soil. He placed it on the bench of his little booth, then took a seed out of a little bag he had in the back, and planted it. 

She suddenly realised why he’d looked at the ceiling in a reflex, or why he might have. “Wait, hang on, you’re not seriously going to...”

He nodded confidently. “Watch this.”

His horn glowed a bright green, and a shot of energy went into the flowerpot. Within seconds, the seed reacted, sprouting a tiny branch with a single leaf, before growing into a sturdy wooden base to bear a three little fruits. 

“Three Southern Equestrian limes, as fresh as is magically possible,” String Bean said, picking the limes up in his magic and dropping another seed in a flowerpot for instant growth. Another blast of magic, and another tiny stump of a tree was ready. “One Night Guard favourite, a Misty Mountain mango.” He tossed that mango into his machine, whole, same as the limes. “And last but not least, straight from beyond the changeling Hive, an Eastern Unicorn orange.”

Apple Bloom was stunned at the sight of him using growth magic. In seconds, this kid’s stock went from seed to fruit-bearing tree, and he never so much as squinted. Three flowerpots, three seeds, three shots, that’s all he needed. Not only that, but he kept the trees small. Any one of those flowerpots would make for a great present to somepony living in a city, assuming that kind of magic would last. 

“We put all that into the juicer, and...” 

He squinted then, though, and hard, pouring every ounce of magic he could spare into his machine, from the looks of it. Apple Bloom could see through the little viewports how the different fruits were separated by size and, somehow, by type. The limes and the oranges were peeled mechanically, there was no glow inside the machine itself. Judging by its outward appearance, Apple Bloom guessed it had been built with two or three major wheels driving the whole thing, and some sort of detection or filter to separate the citrus from the other fruits.

He sighed with relief once he was finished. “And done. Vanhoover Flag, three colours in one cup.” String Bean held a cup under the machine to collect the juice. He held it out to her once he was satisfied. 

She looked at him apprehensively for a moment, before accepting it and taking a sip. The sourness of the limes was still there, but the sweet mango really cut into it, while the orange was little more than an afterthought, a simple diluting agent to get the flavour down to manageable levels. Still, she felt that tartness on her teeth. She grimaced, though not unpleasantly. “Yup. That’s a new one, alright.”

He smiled. “Really? You like it?”

“It’s a good recipe, sure.”

The colt’s ears fell back. “But?”

“But, why do you need a machine to do this for you? You’ve obviously got a knack for farmin’ and juicin’, why be lazy about it?”

“Heh, funny you should mention that. Actually, I–”

Something exploded behind him, or burped loudly, it sounded like something in between. He quickly turned around and dashed to the source of the bang, which turned out to be a small mirror.

“Is everything okay back there?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s a dragonfire message mirror, it’s nothing. I’m not here with anyone, either, my family wants me to keep in touch, you know?”

Apple Bloom took another long sip of her drink. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. It usually stops when you can show you’re responsible. Usually.”

He took a long, hard look at the paper that had been sent through the mirror, and shook his head. “Sorry. Anyway, what I was trying to say is: I use my machine because I use magic. I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t exactly have the arms for hard lifting. I really like doing stuff with food, but I don’t have the strength for farming, so I stick with this. My cutie mark’s not too clear on my talent, either.”

Truth be told, she was inclined to agree, on both counts. His limbs were a little on the long and thin side, string bean arms, basically. Probably ran in his family, too, or he’d had that since he was born, if his name was anything to go by. She took a glance at his cutie mark, and noticed that it, too, was a string bean: a vine of a plant coiling around a stick, ending in a single leaf up top, almost like a magic wand, with a large pod filled with peas behind it. His cutie mark was a weak plant that needed support to grow up, essentially. She wasn’t familiar enough with plants to know by the leaves and pods what species it was, exactly, but it was definitely a bean, and it was definitely only a symbol, because a real bean plant like that should have had two leaves up top instead of one. Anypony would get confused by something like that on their flanks, she figured. “Huh. Well, if you have cutie mark problems, that sort of thing’s my area of expertise. Me and my friends give counselling to ponies like you all the time.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m serious. Me and my friends help out ponies with cutie mark problems. We even organised a camp for blank flanks.”

“Okay, but I’m not a blank flank, though.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean we help ponies who are confused about their cutie marks, whether they’ve got them or not. You’ve heard of Troublehooves?”

“Guy who sabotaged, what, three or four rodeos and turned out to be innocent? That was all over the papers. That was you, too?”

Apple Bloom nodded confidently. “Yup. Before I even got my cutie mark doing that sort of thing. I mean, before me and friends did. We usually do this as a team, but if you are looking for advice, and it sounds like it’s a cutie mark problem? Do you need help with that?”

He chuckled. “Umm, actually, yes, please. My, umm, my family’s been kinda pushing me in a couple of directions, but none of it is stuff I want to do.” He winced. “I want to do something with farming, with making food, but I don’t think I’m doing it right. And I’m pretty sure you don’t think so, either.”

She looked at the contraption behind him and shrugged. “That’s nothing you need to worry about. I just have a thing when it comes machines, is all, a couple of bad experiences. Farming’s not a profession you want to muddle up with fancy machinations and whatnot. You do things on your own strength.”

“I built this thing on my own strength,” he argued. 

“And that’s mighty impressive, I’m not gonna lie.” She nodded. “But I’m guessin’ you still used magic to do it.”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah, so?”

“So, that’s cuttin’ corners. You’re not gonna find your real talent doing things halfway. You need to put a little more, umm, zest in it, if you catch my drift, really try to challenge yourself. And another thing.” She took another gulp. “As tasty as this is, don’t you think it’s a little bit of a waste to be usin’ your magic to grow trees super-fast just for a quick juice?”

He winced. “Umm… yes, I guess it kind of is a waste. But it’s fun, and it’s what I like to do, and I think a lot of ponies will appreciate it.”

Apple Bloom looked away and smiled. “Okay, I guess we can agree to disagree on that part. But try to spice it up a little, put some more elbow grease into it. Make it more authentic. You’ll feel better when you’re doing something that you think matters, making something that’s important to you. You don’t need to hide behind some silly salespony pitch to make a good product.”

“It helps to sell it, though.”

She smiled, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll grant you that, but I don’t think your talent is selling things. A cutie mark like that definitely means growing stuff. Tell you what, I’ll bring my grandpa around when I’ve done my first round of the halls, and after he’s done judging all the squashes… and whatever else he’s judging today. Maybe he can give you some pointers, too.”

“I’d like that.”

Apple Bloom finished her drink and licked her lips. “I mean, this is good stuff, mind you, but I think it is missing something. What else have you tried doing? How’d you get that cutie mark in the first place?”

“Well, growing beans, obviously,” he gestured to his cutie mark. “But I don’t like it. Beans are boring, at least on their own. I’ve tried cooking, too, but I never got past basic recipes. And when I tried to test my limits, I kind of, of sort of...” He gestured upwards, and Apple Bloom winced in understanding. “I like doing this, though, I’m just… like you said, missing something. I thought maybe if I could come here, I’d see what everypony else is doing, or show off my skills.”

“That’s a good idea. Except, you know, being stuck behind the counter.”

“I never said it was a foolproof plan. But there are other farmers here, other ponies who grow stuff and make stuff.”

Mostly Earth ponies, sure.

Apple Bloom pushed that thought away as quickly as it had popped up. This Unicorn wanted to grow things, and his cutie mark clearly had something to do with growing things, the bean thing was obviously a symbol of some sort, but she didn’t have Twilight’s library to run to to look up what it’d be a symbol for. His talent lay somewhere in the growing department, that much was certain. Unfortunately, being a Unicorn, and not one gifted with a strong physique for his kind, and not being an early bloomer, meant he would always lean towards using magic. This, in turn, cut him off from the satisfaction of doing a hard day’s work, the way Earth ponies did with their more physical approach to things.

The answer, then, was simple: if he wanted to do Earth pony things, she’d just have to gently encourage him to do things more like Earth ponies did them. 

“Definitely try putting a little more heart and respect into it, then,” she suggested.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

She weighed her words carefully, so as not to offend him. “Try to think of something that makes it feel more important, like you put more effort into it. If you let your machine do all the work, well, it ends up coming across as kind of cheap, is all, and it won’t give you any satisfaction about it, either.”

He tapped his chin. “So… try to do it more traditionally?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I think I know how to do that. Thanks, Apple Bloom.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll come by later and see how it goes.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

She trotted off with a spring in her step. 

Just got in and I’ve already helped somepony out. Grand Pear’s gonna be so proud.
> Making Corrections and Connections
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apple Bloom’s first order of business after the initial scouting run of the premises was to meet and greet any ponies she already knew, which in this case was a mare from Dodge. A yellowish mare with a red mane that was done up with a hairband so as to show off the dark and light hues of her ‘do, to be exact. She also had a fan stashed in her hairband, most likely for show, as Vanhoover wasn’t anywhere near as hot as Dodge Junction.

“Howdie, Miss Jubilee!”

The mare turned with a start and gasped, before spotting the badge. “Apple Bloom, howdie. Didn’t think I’d be seeing an Apple here today. Shouldn’t you be in Appleloosa, cheering your sister on?” She spoke with a Southern drawl that put even the Apple family’s accent to shame, with the ‘awe’s and ‘eye’s in her A-sounds and that strange habit of preferring words with lots of syllables where a single-syllable word would suffice.  

“Big Mac and Granny Smith are on it. Grand Pear wanted me to see the Court this year, so he kinda sent me out to scout. And I could ask you the same thing. Ain’t like you to miss a rodeo.”

Cherry Jubilee sighed and cranked up the drawl in her voice for dramatic effect. “I do admit, it’s never easy to skip a big event, but the Food Court’s more important. You never know what you find here. Speakin’ of which, how do you like my arena? Your sister went through this thing like wind through the cornfield when she tried it.”

Apple Bloom looked left and right. Aside from a few spikes stuck in flowerpots and some stacks of hay, it had all the appearance of an animal pen lacking any occupants. “It’s a lot smaller than any rodeo I’ve seen. And empty, if you don’t me sayin’ so.”

“It’s always a little empty at first, when nopony’s brave enough to put on a show, or risk embarrassing themselves. But it’s a fine way of figuring out where the good workers are come bucking season. And of course it’s small: I can hardly drag a whole rodeo here, can I? It’s still close enough to the real thing to give ponies a taste of the real stuff. Here, I’ll show you.” She led Apple Bloom to the makeshift yard and pointed to the little spikes planted into flowerpots. “First there’s the horseshoe toss, to test a pony’s accuracy and how well they can husband their strength. Bucking trees takes some level of finesse, as I’m sure you know, and the horseshoe toss is one of the oldest ways of training that. It’s also nice in case of emergency: there’s not a pest in Equestria that’ll keep eatin’ your crops after a little iron to the noggin’. Of course, some of them do have a proclivity towards then turning to the pony that owns the crops...”

Apple Bloom cringed at the thought.

“Anyway, that’s up first because it’d be too hard to do if your muscles are already worn out. And they will get a little worn out from the haybale drag.” Turning around, she gestured to the pile of rope and the stack hay bales set up nearby.  

“What’s the rope for?” Apple Bloom pointed to the lassos laying about.  

“To lasso the hay bales, of course. You have to get them down standing right here in this circle.” Miss Jubilee patted the red mark on the ground.  

By Apple Bloom’s estimation, that was about four paces away, three for a grown-up. “And what’s that good for?”

“Earth pony tradition, hun.” Jubilee winked. “Roads and carts weren’t always as reliable as they are today. Being able to rope your supplies out of a ditch is a handy skill for an Earth pony, especially one living in the rockier areas of Equestria. Plus, it saves time, if your swing is good. Lastly, there’s the stacking. That one’s purely a test of endurance and strength.”

Apple Bloom nodded, before the obvious objection formed in her head. “Except if you use magic, you mean. If a Unicorn wanted to try it.”

“Hmm, fair point. But they usually don’t try these things, and they have other ways of measuring themselves and each other. But I’m not about to tell a Unicorn farmer how to do things, as long as they get the results.”

Apple Bloom pondered the matter. She had the opportunity, and a need for information, no reason not to ask. “Are there any? Unicorn farmers, I mean.”

“Oh, there’s…” Miss Jubilee thought for a moment, looked away, then shook her head. “Well, no, I suppose there aren’t, not exactly. Conservationists, yes, plenty of those are Unicorns. Pest control, a few of the specialised ones are Unicorns, and very capable and charmin’ fellows they are, I might add. But farmers? Honest to goodness farmers? Don’t think I know of any, no. But then, I don’t reckon I know many Pegasus farmers, either. It’s about a bushel of Pegasi, I’d say, but no Unicorns, no. Why do you ask?”

Apple Bloom scrunched her nose. “Somethin’ bugging me, is all. Suppose, hypothetically, a Unicorn wanted to be a farmer. Would that be weird? They’re wizards by default, aren’t they? Or scholars, at least?”

“Oh, yes, it’s in their blood. I’ve been around a few mixed families in my day, you cannot get the scholar and wizard out of them even if you try, at least for three generations. And if it ain’t magic, then it’s some other silly thing most ponies never think about,” Cherry Jubilee said with a chuckle. “Ponies with Unicorn blood have a way of letting things get their interest in ways other ponies simply can’t understand. That’s just how it works, I suppose. They’re made of different stuff, so they tend to be a little different.”

Apple Bloom’s ears twitched. “That’s what I mean: isn’t it a little weird for a wizard to want to be a farmer? Every time there’s a faerie tale about a hero, it’s the other way around: farm boy wants to be a wizard. Doesn’t even matter if he’s a Unicorn or not, that’s just how it is. Wizard’s just a more interesting kind of life. They get to do more stuff.”

“Ha, well, now, that might seem to be the case for a youngin’ like you, but I can assure you the reality is vastly different. Think of it this way: to grow your own food is to take a little bit of responsibility in your own life. It makes you more independent, and for a pony who relies on magic a lot that might hold more weight. Magic can run out, and food can run out. You don’t want to run out of one when you’re out of the other, so farming without spellcraft and sorcery would be a nice little insurance policy, not to mention a more mundane hobby to cool off from the arcane studies. It’s also a good way of learning a thing or two about value.”

“Oh. When you put it like that, I guess...”

Cherry Jubilee tapped her chin, thinking. “Come to think of it, I think I heard something about Princess Celestia wanting to encourage her students to pick up gardening a while back. If I recall correctly, the EEA objected, though, so maybe there’s a good reason wizarding and farming don’t mix.”

“Really?” Apple Bloom scratched the back of her head. “I never heard of that.”

“Oh, child, there’s so much ponies don’t hear about, I’m sure you didn’t even know the EEA existed until they started butting into Princess Twilight’s affairs.”

“Fair point. Still doesn’t explain why the EEA would object, though.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I know this much: not every pony can do farming, that’s just not in the cards sometimes. City ponies who live far away from any fertile fields have to make do with what the roads can bring them, and they pay good money for it, too, wizard or not. On top of that, magic has a way of complicating things, doubly so for youngins, I suspect.”

There, Apple Bloom could see the point. Making every student pick up gardening in a school for magic was likely a disaster waiting to happen. A disaster involving a lot of vines, thorns, and compost, if she had to guess. “I guess that’s true. But what if you had a Unicorn trying to be a farmer? He’d never be able to do it the same way, right? We do all this with hard work, we kinda have to, but Unicorns can just use magic and ‘poof,’ that’s it. There’s no effort in it, at least for the powerful ones. And if there’s no effort in it, doesn’t that make it worthless? How do you make somepony feel good about what they do, when what they do is as easy as blinking?”

Jubilee took the fan out from under her headband and flapped it around a bit, as if the question had made her brain overheat. “Hoo, Nelly, you’re askin’ the wrong mare that kinda question, that’s going into talents and callings and recognitions. I don’t fancy getting my head caught in that bear trap, thank you kindly. But if you’re giving it that much thought and detail, it sounds to me like you’ve got an actual pony in this situation, and this isn’t a mere hypothetical or academical proposition.”

“No, Ma’am,” Apple Bloom admitted. “I guess. Maybe. Just some colt, is all, a Unicorn I met here, he’s trying to find the real meaning of his talent. He thinks he ought to be a farmer, except he’s got really good magic. Like, honestly impressive stuff, he can do with his horn in seconds something I can only do after twenty minutes of potion-making, assumin’ I could manage it in the first place without brutalising the local ecosystem. He’s obviously a wizard of some sort. Doesn’t that mean he should leave the magic out of it and just be acting more physical-like? You know, to feel like he accomplished something?”

Again, Cherry Jubilee tapped her chin as she thought it over. “That does sound plausible, I have to admit. He’s got his cutie mark already, I take it?”

“Yup. But he doesn’t know what it means, and I kinda promised I’d help him out.”

The mare nudged her. “So bring him over then, why dontcha? Let him work up a sweat, that’s what I brought this here for, and I’ve got plenty of treats and souvenirs for prizes, give him a little something for the effort. If he wants to be a farmer, show him farm stuff. If he enjoys the physical side of things more, he can do it all he likes and save his magic for compensating, or for emergencies. If not, maybe it’s the showy side of things he likes, and magic is a fine way to put up a show. Who knows, maybe he’ll want to do rodeos instead.”

“I doubt that. But that does give me an idea. If his talent is bein’ a wizard, or even a salespony and not a farmer, he would find out trying to do something like this. I did try to give him some pointers, I just don’t know if it helped.”

“What did you tell him?”

Apple Bloom thought it over, making sure to herself more than anything else that she’d said the right thing. “Put more heart into it, go for something traditional. You know, historical stuff. Give it some more meaning.” All of a sudden, she started feeling like she’d forgotten something.  

Cherry Jubilee mulled it over from behind her fan, then nodded. “Oh, that sounds like fine enough advice to me. Of course, that would require him knowing what traditional even means in the first place, being a Unicorn and all, with different histories and traditions.”

Apple Bloom slapped herself. “Right. Wizard, he probably doesn’t.”

“It’s an easy thing to overlook. But you have plenty of material to show here. If it turns out his talent is not in a physical area, then you’ll know it’s in a magical area, or even just a thinking area. But if it turns out it is in the physical area, well, problem solved, no?”

Thinking area? Now there’s an idea. Wizards usually overthink stuff, don’t they? They have to, with their magic, as much as Earth ponies have to use their bodies to do things. There’s plenty of thinking to be done about farming, if he can’t do the physical.

Apple Bloom looked at the rodeo set-up as two stallions approached to take the challenge, the first pair of the day. The roping segment would be challenging to any pony who’d never done it before, but feasible after a few attempts. The horseshoe toss was easy enough. But the physical stuff?

She highly doubted String Bean had the strength to lift up one of those hay bales, much less start stacking them.

She shook her head.  

Stop thinking ill of the boy, Apple Bloom, that’s not fair. He’s probably a lot stronger than he looks. He’s got growth magic, after all, who knows how much horsepower he’s really got in those skinny arms. 

“That sounds like a great idea, actually. If he can’t do traditional on his own, a taste of the real stuff would be perfect.”





Apple Bloom came trotting back into the hall, expecting to hear String Bean call out some adjusted sales pitch to stand out from the crowds.  

He’d adjusted it, alright. He’d made it sound infinitely worse.  

“Ancient juice mixes right here! Sailor’s Saviour, Holy Guacamole, yes, sir, we’ve even got the legendary Minty Mango Mix straight out of Mage Meadowbrook’s recipe book. All sourced with the best ingredients furresh as they can be, grown before your very eyes!”

Apple Bloom picked up her jaw. Two mares came walking up behind her with a quick trot, eager to try these supposedly authentic ancient recipes, made exactly as the ancestors did it, except with magic and machine.

Once she snapped out of it, she shook her head and tried to ignore the rattling sound. “Ancient recipes? He got Mage Meadowbrook’s recipes? But she was an Earth pony, from a thousand years ago, where would he even get the-”

“Ancient recipe books!” A stallion called out from two stands down the line. “Mage Meadowbrook’s latest re-printed work, the wisdom of the ancients right here!”

She let out a resigned grunt. “Oh, right. She’s out and about again, so she got her stuff reprinted. Of course she did.”

Two mares that had approached the stand ooh-ed and ah-ed at String Bean’s new menu, this time written on a parchment and in fancy old-looking font. He’d probably used magic to write it, too.   

Apple Bloom managed to make out a few recipes once String Bean had made another batch of magically grown and mechanically processed juice for his customers. She couldn’t help but notice he’d raised his prices by a few bits on top of it.  

“Hey, Apple Bloom,” he greeted. “Ladies, this is Apple Bloom. The Apple Bloom.”

The mares raised their eyebrows at him.  

“She’s a renowned cutie mark expert,” he added. “She also carried the Ponyville flag last Equestria Games, and she’s a very skilled potion brewer.”

The mares both ooh-ed. “So you, like, know this stuff?”

Apple Bloom suppressed a shudder, as that accent was hauntingly familiar. These were ponies from Vanity Valley, a town known for its trade in mirrors and portraits, and probably the second most aptly named location in Equestria since Daisytown got renamed to Skunk Central. “Yeah, you might say I’ve got some hooves in that pie. But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, String Bean. In private, if ya don’t mind?”

“Sure. Be right back, ladies, farming business.”

Apple Bloom grumbled as he took her behind the counter. The mares seemed to know him from somewhere, at least. Again, she heard that exploding burp from a magic mirror behind him. He quickly put the paper away with the rest. “Sorry, I think my mirror’s broken. I keep getting all this junk mail.”

“Uhuh. Mind tellin’ me what you’re doing?”

String Bean shrugged. “I took your advice. I’m showing respect for the old ways. I went and bought a recipe book from the guy down the aisle. Good call, too: business has been booming since.”

Apple Bloom cringed. “That ain’t what I… look, don’t you think this is all a little, I dunno, cheap?”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

She looked away and tried to think of a subtle, gentle way to say it. “You’re kinda makin’ light of a noble profession and an honest tradition here. Don’t you think you ought to be doing, you know, better?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really see the problem. You said I should respect tradition, so now I’m doing traditional things. And ponies love it. Those two back there are Valley girls, they’re friends with important ponies. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to impress that kind of crowd?”

“It’s only two ponies.”

“But they’re ponies whose opinions matter. A lot. And now they’re customers, thanks to you. What is the problem?”

She sighed. Clearly she needed to be more direct here. “Just because you’ve switched up your recipes from new stuff to old stuff doesn’t mean you’re respecting tradition or doing your own thing. If anything, this is worse. You’re gonna end up with ponies thinking you’ve got a genuine product when all you’ve got is something done with magic and machinery. You’re gonna put yourself in a bad place if you keep this up, and you’ll only end up forcing yourself to do something you hate. Assuming you do hate doing this, of course.” She nudged his shoulder. “So, does this feel better than what you were doing before?”

String Bean’s smile faded, his ears splayed back. “Okay, no, you’ve kinda got a point there.”

Apple Bloom opened her mouth to argue, but found herself stuck halfway when she noticed his expression changing. She wondered just how forced his smiles had been so far. “Wait, really? You agree?”

“Umm, sure, it wasn’t my idea in the first place, remember? I only changed recipes because you suggested it, but at the end of the day, those recipes aren’t even mine.” He fidgeted awkwardly, looking away. “They were made by an Earth pony, and trying to make them as a Unicorn just feels off.”

“See?” She nudged his shoulder again, gently. “That’s what I mean. Stop copying something that’s not yours, that’s beginner stuff. You’re already good enough to not have to follow somepony else’s example, so start doing that. It’s going to keep feeling off until you find a way to do your own thing. If you really aren’t gonna do it the Earth pony way, think you could maybe switch to Unicorn recipes instead? You know, wizard stuff?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think there are any Unicorn recipes, honestly. Back in the day, Earth ponies had all the food, remember? Even a lot of the Unicorn royals had Earth pony cooks.”

There, she had to concede the point. Mostly. “But those are still recipes your ancestors were connected to, stuff with your history on’em. You don’t have to take my advice if you don’t want to. But if you do want my opinion?”

“Of course I do. You’re the Apple Bloom. Didn’t you hear me back there?”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I ain’t that much of a bigshot, but if you want my opinion, it’s the same as before: you should find something that’s more... you.” She gestured up and down to him. “That’s how you find your true talent. Don’t do half the work everypony else does and call it a day, do it properly. I promise, you’ll know when you’re doing it right. And if you’re already puttin’ your heart into it, try puttin’ more brainpower into it. Try to work out something clever to do with your product, that’s what wizards usually do, right?”

He snorted, mulled it over, then nodded in a strange mix of defeat and confidence. “Okay. I think I might have another idea, then. There’s one other book I know I can try, and it’s all Unicorn stuff.”

While she wasn’t happy with how he looked, she nodded and smiled, regardless. This was obviously a touchy subject, and he was bound to cheer up anyway once he got things sorted out. “Good, try that. I’ll be around again after I do a quick run of Hall 3. If it doesn’t work out, I’ve found some place we can try and get things done with a little more hooves-on approach. There’s a practice rodeo for cherry pickers a couple aisles down, nice and physical. Maybe it’s just some hard work you’re missing out on.”

He gulped. “Umm, okay. I don’t think that’ll be necessary, but okay. I’ll do it more wizardly instead.”

“Good. And don’t worry about getting things wrong: that’s how you learn. I know I messed up a lot when I was still figuring out my talent.”

“Even after you got your cutie mark?”

“Especially after I got my cutie mark.” Apple Bloom cringed. “You think this is bad? Try mucking up a dance recital in front of everypony you know from market day, just because the dance teacher saw you carry a flag once.”

His eyes widened. “Ouch.”

“But don’t worry.” She gave the back of his neck a playful slap, only to find he buckled under the impact. “You won’t make that much of a mess, you’re cleverer than that.”

He stumbled back and went back to serving his customers, leaving her to go her merry way again. “Umm, thanks, I think.”





With her conscience soothed and her Cutie Mark Crusader duty fulfilled, Apple Bloom took a trip to Hall 3.  

Apparently this was the health food section, as every pony at the entrance was selling something green and good for her. She knew it was good for her because the ponies kept saying it was and the stuff smelled questionable at best. The Food Court was odd like that: ponies shouted like it was market day, yet everywhere she looked, Apple Bloom saw both regular customers buying things they might never get elsewhere, as well as what looked like businessponies negotiating prices. On top of that, there was a surprisingly large amount of freebies on offer, which reminded her more of the conventions she’d heard Button Mash talk about a few times.  

Canterlot stock market meets Ponyville food market, that’s as far as she understood the intricacies of this place.  

She passed by the first few vendors, and chanced upon a pear stall. Seeing some slices laid out and the salespony gesturing at the free samples, Apple Bloom tried one.  

Something sucked in her lips and chewed at her gums. She swallowed the slice, but only barely, and she felt that dry sourness forcing contortions out of her innards that would take at least five maple syrup-drenched pancakes to compensate for.  

“You like?” The mare asked.  

“Umm, yeah, they’re really packed with flavour, I guess.” Apple Bloom winced as it felt like her bones were being bleached. “A mighty sour flavour, though.”

“Well, they’re supposed to be. Sour is good for you.”

“Are you sure?” She eyed the fruits suspiciously.  “Because they taste plain not ripe to me.”

The mare waved that remark away, nose and eyes firmly pointed up as was tradition when dismissing common sense. “You just don’t understand the nuances of pear farming, little girl. The ripening degrades vital nutrients in the fruit and adds unnecessary harmful sugars. Harvesting them small and sour makes sure all the good stuff is preserved. Sour means healthy, everypony knows that.”

Not about to get stuck in another argument, Apple Bloom smiled and walked along. “I’ll be sure to read up on that sometime, thanks.”

She growled as soon as she’d turned her back. Honestly, the nerve of some ponies.  

Apple Bloom found herself stopping in front of a mango stand. It was managed by an odd sort of pony: one with bat wings and a dark grey coat. She’d only ever seen the likes of such ponies around Nightmare Night, and while she had heard a rumour they were fond of sweet fruits, she’d never actually pegged them for the farming profession. Except in terms of pest control, possibly. Bat-winged ponies were probably very good at keeping things far, far away from their fields.

“Hi, there. What’s all this?” She asked.

The Bat pony mare raised an eyebrow at her. “A little young to be wearing that badge, aren’t you?”

“I’m here with Grand Pear,” Apple Bloom replied.

“Ah. Well, to answer your question: we are selling a local speciality: mango smoothies. Care to try one?”

Apple Bloom still had the taste of sour pear curling her lips, so she nodded eagerly.  

Big mistake. As soon as she sipped the smoothie, the taste of mango overwhelmed her senses. It stuck to her tongue, bled into her nose, she was pretty sure she could taste the stuff all the way to her ears.

“Pretty good, huh?” The mare asked.

“Umm, yeah. Good.” She downed it in one gulp, out of politeness. “But a little too sweet for my tastes, I reckon. I can feel my insides gumming up with it.”

“Oh, but it’s not like candy, though, it’s good for you! Mangoes have lots of Vitamin C in them,” the mare insisted with a smile that was all fangs.  

“Still, this is practically pure sugar! You don’t put lemon in it or water it down with nothin’?”

“No, no, little girl. It’s more important that it’s healthy and tasty. No point in making a healthy product if nopony wants to eat it.”

The filly nodded. “Good point. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind next time I’m in the kitchen.”

She gagged once she’d gone down the aisle a little further. “Sour pears, mangoes that sugar up your insides… Sounds to me like this whole health food thing’s just a scam.”

“Blame the EEA for that,” a male voice piped up.  

Apple Bloom’s ears perked up, surprised anyone had heard her muttering to herself, as she’d taken care to do so quietly. Then she noticed the eavesdropper: another bat-winged pony, presumably with bat-like hearing to boot. His ears were pointy and fluffy enough for it. His eyes were his most striking feature, though: light blue, extremely light blue to the point of being almost silvery grey, which gave them an otherworldly shine.  

“You’ll have to pardon my compatriots,” he said. “Some of us have a bit more of a sweet tooth than others. It’s part of our magic, you see, we get used to extreme flavours very easily. And while it’s not traditional for our kind, mango farming is relatively popular nowadays.”

“Uhuh.” She walked up the stand, not seeing any obvious dishes or products on the table yet. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what is traditional for, umm, your kind? And what is your kind even called, come to think of it? I’ve seen’em around, but I never heard mention of them. If it’s okay to ask that too, that is.”

He waved the remark away. “Oh, ‘Bat pony’ is a fine enough name, little girl.”

“Is it? I don’t call my Pegasus friend a Bird pony,” Apple Bloom retorted.  

“A fair point. But then again, we don’t call Unicorns Star Swirls, or Earth ponies Puddingheads, either. And to answer your other question: Night Guards and taste testers. We’re good at sneakin’ around and we’re good at detecting things.” He winked, then furrowed his brow. “You’re Apple Bloom, aren’t you? Applejack’s kin?” He sounded like he was from the Southern Marshes, but only vaguely. The accent was there, mixed with some of the more fancy-sounding rolling r’s, but without the flair of a pony like Cherry Jubilee. His accent was not distinct enough to pin it anywhere on the map, but definitely enough to put the pin somewhere below Canterlot.

“Yes, sir, I’m here with Grand Pear.”

He chuckled. “I thought you looked familiar. Your Aunt and Uncle Orange come by our farm every week. They always flash the latest pictures when your family makes the news, too. The front page really doesn’t do you any justice.”

Aunt and Uncle Orange? She hadn’t heard those names in a while. “Really? You know my family?”

The pointy-eared stallion nodded. “Two little leaves of that particular branch, and Grand Pear’s an old friend of the family. Me and my kin have a moderately large establishment on the outskirts on Manehattan, lots of rich ponies like to come by for some, err, custom product.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Custom product meaning...”

“Beers. Which is why we’re a little lower profile here than most. Here, my card.” He extended a hoof to give her a little piece of paper.  

Apple Bloom took the stallion’s card and read it. “Silver Moonshine Brewery, Age-Old Ales and New Brews. Thanks, Mister.”

“Silver Shine’s the name, but you can just call me Silver. Pop on by if anyone you know is in the market for a taste of the old times. We’re not the biggest player on the market, but we’ve got a long line of brewers behind us.” He thought for a moment. “I think our first cider mill is as old as Ponyville, actually. Or two years younger, I forget which.”

Apple Bloom thought for a moment. “Wait, if you brew beers, what are you doing in the health nut section?”

He smiled and turned to pour her a cup of what looked like a golden lemonade. “This. We do regular elixirs, tonics, and ginger ale as well. Here, try some, it’ll wash the mango out of your system. It’s child-proof, don’t worry.”

Apple Bloom took the cup and gulped. If this was anything like all the other stuff in this section, she was about to get another foul experience. Much to her surprise, though, nothing bad happened when she drank it. The sweet clinginess of the mango passed, her stomach rumbled in relief, she could even feel her nostrils opening and her head clearing a little. Then the spicy ginger hit. The rumbling in her stomach turned to a pleasant warm burn.  

“Not too hot?” Mister Silver asked.

She sighed happily and licked her lips. “Hmm, no. It’s hot, but it’s a good hot, just right.” Her belly groaned. “A mite active on the innards, though.”

“It’ll do that, yes. It’s also good when you have a cold, and it’s been known to help Pegasi with flight trouble, in some cases.”

She huffed. “Why does everypony here keep yappin’ on about how healthy their stuff is? It’s only farm produce, it’s not like you’re gonna get fat on it. Except maybe offa those mango smoothies, no offence.”

“None taken,” Silver replied with a shrug. “It’s a marketing ploy, really. I mean, sure, you do get the occasional pony who is genuinely worried about making a healthy product, but most of the time it’s pure bluff. All the fruits and veg look alike, you see. You’re from an Apple family apple farm, you’d know. How can you tell the difference between your apples and those that aren’t?”

She gasped. “Oh, gosh, where do I even start?”

He held a hoof up to stop her. “Hold on, different question. How does a normal pony tell the difference?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but every argument that tried to come out was shot down halfway when she realised. “Oh. I guess they wouldn’t.”

“There’s your answer. When you sell your product, you want it to stand out. For some ponies that means harvesting it small, for others it means keeping it as sugary sweet as possible. And for ponies like me, it means acting like an encyclopedia when all you are is a brewer and part-time farmer.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “I get that. It still seems like a low thing to do, though.”

“It’s not something most ponies are fond of, that much is true. You need to find a balance between a good product and good marketing. And like I said, the EEA has been pushing for it a lot lately. The Earth pony representative is… controversial, to say the least.”

“I’ve seen Chancellor Neighsay, I can imagine his colleagues aren’t too different.”  

He chuckled. “Well, one colleague in particular has been pushing the health nuts to the forefront, for… whatever reason, who really knows what goes on in their minds. But as a result, everypony who’s got an opportunity to is jumpin’ on the bandwagon, even the ones who really shouldn’t.” Silver Shine shuddered. “Especially the ones who really shouldn’t.”

“I’ll bet. But on the bright side, at least it lets ponies try out new stuff. This is good, I like a good ginger ale. I’ll be back for a box later when the squash contest is done.”

He gave her a dignified nod. “I’ll save you a box, then, Miss Apple Bloom, and I’ll let my father know Grand Pear is on the premises, if the old bat hasn’t found him already.”

Apple Bloom would have objected to her grandfather being called an ‘old bat,’ but she quickly realised that Silver was referring to his father, who had to be, logically speaking, both old and at least part bat. “I’ll keep a lookout for him if you like.”

“Yeah, you can’t miss him. He’s a very dark brown, but his right hind hoof’s bright grey. Silver Sock, they call him.”

“Will do!” Apple Bloom trotted along, enjoying the rumbling in her stomach. That ginger ale really hit the spot, and Mister Moonshine seemed like a level-headed fellow, much more so than all the posers she’d seen so far. At least some ponies don’t take the whole health food thing too far.

A pair of mares trotted by in the opposite direction, as if reading her mind.

“Hey, did you hear? There’s this unicorn boy selling freshly made tonics, mixed right on the spot!”

“Oh, really? High in antioxidants?” asked the other.

Apple Bloom sighed. “Tell me he didn’t.”

“I heard it’s a vitamin bomb,” the first mare continued. “And the best part is: he grows it right in front of you! No pesticides, no fertiliser, no environmental pressure, just the pure magic of a young boy’s heart.”

“He did.” Apple Bloom said, before pawing at the ground in frustration and marching right off to the stall she just knew these mares were talking about. “Elbow grease it is, then.”
> The Talk of the Town
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apple Bloom wasn’t sure what to expect when she returned towards String Bean’s stall. The mob of a couple dozen Valley ponies, mostly mares, was pretty close to her first few guesses.

The boy had changed his sign again, this time to something involving tonics and healthy ingredients, Apple Bloom couldn’t quite make it out. He was struggling to keep up with the orders, frantically going from customer to blasting magic at his pots to squinting hard to crank his machine into gear.  

“I went to go visit the yaks in the tundra and now I like, totally have a cold!” One of the mares in front called out.  

“Ginger Mix, coming up!” String Bean replied.  

“I’m on a very strict paleo-pony diet right now, and I need protein, chuh,” one of the rare stallions in the crowd said, although Apple Bloom wasn’t sure if this guy qualified for ‘stallion’ with a weak-looking build like that. He certainly didn’t look like he was on a diet, unless he was on a paleo-pony diet to prepare for a hibernation.  

“Clover and ground nuts smoothie, coming up,” came the hurried reply.  

Apple Bloom gagged. String Bean had clearly taken some hints from the health nuts down in Hall 3.  

Before she could try to get his attention, another mare piped up. “I think I like, totally have malaria from my last trip Maresico!”

“Tonic, coming up.” The boy didn’t miss a beat, though his voice was starting to crack.

“I need to pee!” Came a random cry, before String Bean had even put his ingredients in.  

He kept going, more slowly now. “Umm… cranberry, I guess?”

Still the ponies kept on crowding around and calling out their inane orders. One of the Unicorn mares managed to magically shove everyone out of the way to get to the front. “I’ve been doing rigorous training with this, like, brand new program from Manehattan, you’ll probably hear about it in a few weeks. But now, like, my horn hurts!”

Finally, String Bean let out a sigh and his whole body slumped. “If I knew what fixed that, Ma’am, I’d be guzzling it by the gallon right now.”

Well, that’s enough of that. Apple Bloom gently tapped one of the back mares on the hind quarters to get her attention. “Excuse me, Ma’am, but isn’t this a little excessive? He’s only one pony, and a little one at that. If y’all could maybe disperse orderly-like, there’s plenty of other healthy products on offer in Hall 3, grown naturally and by experienced farmers. I’m sure the ponies there would love to do business with fine Vanity Valley ponies like yourselves.”

“Chuh, as if,” the mare replied with a roll of the eyes. “Magic is, like, the new natural, and we are so not going miss out on this, especially for some country bumpkin.”

“Hey, I got a badge, you know,” Apple Bloom protested. “I don’t need to make this a nice request if I don’t have to.”

“Like, whatever.”

She grumbled. Clearly this crowd wasn’t going to disperse on its own, and String Bean would collapse long before he got done with all these orders, especially since none of the ponies he’d served were actually leaving afterwards. They just wanted to hang around his stall for the prestige.  

Apple Bloom sat down, tapped her head, and thought. I’m out of my element here. What would Scootaloo do, or Sweetie Belle? Either one of’em would do the same thing: crank up the ole’ vocal volume to ‘foghorn’ levels. She took a deep breath and snorted. Alright, then, if these ponies ain’t gonna move, I’ll just have to fight fire with fire. Fight fancy accent with fancy accent.

With her best impersonation of one of her lawyer cousins, Apple Bloom gruffly shouted, “Now hold on just a second there, Mister!” The crowd parted to make way for her, and she took the opportunity to step forward with all the confidence of a peacock. “Do you have a proper certify-cation by the Agricultural Department o’ the EEA?”

String Bean shrugged and took out a piece of official-looking parchment from beneath his counter. “Actually, now that you mention it, yes. Right here, stamped and dated. I had more copies, but we had a monster attack and some of my documents ended up as peat.”

Apple Bloom froze. “Okay, did not see that one coming.” She shook her head. “Be that as it may, where’s your timestamps?”

“My what?”

Apple Bloom slammed a hoof down on the ground. “Everypony in Equestria knows, that any and all professional use of magic must be, I say, must be in accordance with the laws set forth by the Canterlot Representative Archmage Parliament. And as such, having been granted this official-like capacity by the organisers of this event, and bein’ on speakin’ terms with the Princesses…” She looked left and right, and enough Valley girls whispered hushed acknowledgements of recognition to egg her on. “I hereby order you to relinquish your timestamps and prove you have not been exceedin’ the legal, I said, the legal limit of one hour of magic practice. Third-level magic, that is.”

String Bean stared at her blankly. “Uhuh. And if I can’t?”

“Then you’re gonna have to take a mandatory break from any and all magical activities , or I’ll get security.” She turned towards the mares around her, grinning. “Unless, of course, some of the ladies want to risk getting burnt-out magic in their drinks. I’m sure none of you fine ponies mind inbibin’ a product of… over-exploitation!”

A gasp went through the crowd.  

“Sweatshop foal labour!”

Another mare swooned before fainting.

Apple Bloom flashed a smile at the Unicorn mare up front. “Not to mention the well-documented health risks if you over-burn yourself. I’m sure the resulting product won’t make anypony’s hair fall out or nothin’.”

A blonde mare screamed at a stray strand of hay that had appeared completely out of nowhere and certainly had not been planted by the filly for just such an occasion.  

After that, the mob fell silent. Apple Bloom looked around, and found only terror on the faces around her. Mission accomplished. “Well, then, if’n there’s no objections or protestations comin’ my way, I’m calling it on behalf of the organisation: mandatory cooling-off period, same as any professional in the magical arts. Now git!”

“Well, sorry, ladies, but you heard the official, must obey the laws, after all,” String Bean quickly put up another sign to show he was closed.  

“Yup,” Apple Bloom added. “Laws, can’t do it, gotta follow’em.”

“String Bean’s back in business in two hours,” he said with a smile.

The crowd dispersed, awkwardly but surely, leaving only Apple Bloom to talk to the colt.

“Where did you learn to talk like that?” he asked, catching his breath.

She chuckled with a blush on her face. “Umm, let’s just say you’d be surprised what kind of ponies show up to my family reunions.”

“Well, thanks, I owe you one. That was a really good bluff.”

She went to the back of his stall, scooped up some shaven ice from a nearby bucket, and put it on his forehead, at the base of his horn.  

He cringed in pain before slumping again. “Ow, what was that fo-huhuuh, oh that feels good.” His hind legs buckled, and he sat down lest he fall flat on his face.  

She winced. The ice melted like it was nothing, she could feel that heat radiating off his horn, there were wisps of vapour coming off of him and everything. “Wasn’t a bluff. One of my lawyer cousins had to deal with a Unicorn union once, long story. But what happened to you? I thought you were gonna try to do something more you?”

“I did. I found this book by a diet expert, and I have all the seeds and pots I need, so I figured, why not?”

Apple Bloom saw his inventory of miniature fruit trees had expanded by now, and he had a few smaller pots with herbs in them, too. They were starting to stack up at an alarming rate, from the looks of it. “That’s your idea of putting more brain into it?”

His ears drooped, and a sad little pout appeared on his lips. “It’s all I could think of.”

She knew, or hoped she knew, what he’d say, but she still had to ask the all-important question. “And do you like this better?”

He looked like he was about to cry out of disappointment. “No. Anypony can look up in a book what does what. I’m not a medic, and I feel absolutely terrified every time I give someone a supposedly healthy or medicinal drink. What if I mess up and they get hurt? I’d never forgive myself.”

Apple Bloom did her best not to smile. To see a colt with that much of a resemblance to Flim and Flam say something like that, it filled her heart with… something. She wasn’t sure if it was pride or wonder or whatever, but it was something good. She still wished it was in better circumstances, though.

“Not like it matters,” String Bean continued. “All those Valley girls, they’re not trying to be healthy, they’re trying to be trendy. They just want an excuse to tell everypony around what they’re doing, they’re such attention hogs. All they want is hollow stuff. And all I’ve got is hollow.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I know how much that meant to you.”

“Not your fault. But I guess putting more fancy vitamins in my recipes isn’t all that fulfilling, either. I honestly thought it was for a second there, but I can’t deal with that kind of pressure. I don’t want everything to fall apart if I mess up.”

Understandable. She gestured to the plants he’d grown. “Those trees look nice, though. That’s a fine talent to have, you can work with that. Why not just keep doing that, make juices on the side? That’s way more impressive.”

He shrugged. “I can’t. The plants are a waste product, that’s all. I couldn’t get any fruits of my own in here, that’s the only reason I grew them like this. I’ll probably get rid of them when the day’s done.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” he insisted. “I can’t. It’s not… it’s not proper, it’s not efficient. Growing trees is a waste if you don’t do anything with them. Making a product, that’s what I need to do, and selling it. I need something that counts and all that stuff? That doesn’t count for anything.”

She wanted to scream at him for saying that, but she bit her tongue. The last thing she needed to do here was hurt his feelings, and obviously this was a sore spot. She couldn’t think of why, though, and part of her was kicking around in her head about something obvious and stupid she was forgetting. She couldn’t let herself get sidetracked. “Okay, then, umm… what would count, then? Producin’ something on your own strength, no magic?”

String Bean sat back, more upright now that his horn had cooled down, and she could have sworn he whimpered. “Yes. That’d be perfect. That’d fix everything.”

“And did you get your cutie mark doing that?”

“No. I got it growing a bean plant for a school project. Things kinda went downhill from there.”

“Okay, but you did use magic to do that, right? Your talent is definitely something to do with plants, you’re sure of that much?”

“Most Unicorns naturally get higher-level magic in what they’re talented at,” he explained. “And I have plant magic just like that, so yeah, I did. Since that’s my magic, that means my talent has to be plant-based, growth-based, probably food-based, too. But like I said, nothing works. I’m not happy with any of it.”

That sure sounded like her first instinct, namely that he was simply missing out on the satisfaction of physical work. He’d done the magical work, and it had completely wrecked him. “Right, then, how about we try the serious stuff? Physical farm work, like Earth ponies do it.”

“You really think that’s what my talent means?”

Apple Bloom went to sit next to him and started counting all the options on her hoof. “You’ve tried putting your heart into it, and you can’t do any more. You tried putting more thought into it, and that just put too much pressure on you. But now you know what you want is something that can still stand after a mistake. You want something that’s not gonna go ‘poof’ and disappear, which, I’m guessing, means you want to do something that you don’t build with a ‘poof’ in the first place. That’s exactly how Earth ponies do things, so you know what to try next: you gotta get the full Earth pony experience.”

“I don’t know...”

“Uhuh. That’s the whole point. You don’t know. You could be a lot stronger than you figure, if you’ve never tried this sort of thing before. You’re not gonna get anywhere trying to put more tradition in it, and the added strategising is messing with your head, not to mention drawing the wrong crowd. You just said that would fix everything. Why, does your family not like you doing that, either?”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, they want me to do physical stuff, alright. Just not that kind.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, hang on. What does your family want you to do, then?”

“Never mind, it’s nothing. But what if I can’t do it? What if I fail at that, too?”

“Then that’ll be another thing you know. You’ll know you’re a wizard first, and you should stick to wizard things. No need to get hung up on what you can’t do right now, you’ve got plenty of time to grow.”

He sighed and stared at the ground. “Wizard things, huh?”

“Come on, you’re not scared of losing to a girl, are ya? You need to be absolutely sure you can’t do physical work before you rule it out. If it doesn’t work, then you’ll know your talent is pure magic.”

“Okay. If you say so.”





“Howdie, Miss Jubilee!” Apple Bloom called out. “I brought along a competitor.”

The mare came trotting towards them. “Howdie, young sir. I’m Cherry Jubilee, I own an orchard down in Dodge Junction. Cherry orchard, that is, but I’m sure you guessed as much.”

He smiled and extended a hoof. “Hi. My name’s String Bean, Miss. I’ve got a little juicer set up nearby.”

She shook his hoof, but slowly, thinking. “Pleased to make your acquaintance... String Bean? That name rings a bell. Are you famous for something?”

“Not yet, Miss,” he replied sheepishly.

“Hmm, probably confusin’ ya for somepony else, then. I take it little Apple Bloom’s explained the rules already?”

“She, umm, she gave me the quick cliff notes.”

Cherry Jubilee led them around the little arena, showing off the horseshoe toss, the hay bale drag, and the stacking. “For small ponies like you, it’s quite simple: you land three horseshoes, you’re allowed to switch throwing hooves if you like. Then you rope five hay bales down, standing in that little circle there. Once you’re done, you stack’em as high as possible.”

Apple Bloom noticed String Bean’s nervousness. His ears flittered from here to there, and a little vein in his neck kept popping up every time he gritted his teeth. “And no magic,” Apple Bloom added. “We’re tryin’ to see if you can do this sort of thing without it.”

Miss Jubilee seemed to notice his nerves. “It’s a nice casual contest, just somethin’ for ponies to get a feel of things, maybe for me to find some seasonal workers when the bigger ponies show up, nothin’ to worry about. Plus, you get a little treat afterwards.”

String Bean looked behind him at the stock.  

“Mostly backlog I need to get rid of, hun, no need to fret about price,” Cherry Jubilee said.  

He blushed, and Apple Bloom nudged him. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Just remember why you’re here. This is why you showed up to this event in the first place, right?”

“Right. Gotta make sure I’m not a wizard.”

He shivered with nerves, and Apple Bloom was starting to get second thoughts. The die was cast, though, and Miss Jubilee did not wait.

“Good, that’s settled, then. On your marks, get set, go!”

Both foals rushed to the first stop. Apple Bloom had the advantage with her experience in horseshoe tossing, landing the first two in quick succession. That constant fine control took its toll on her, though, and her throwing arm started to shake. She found herself switching arms, but she’d seen it in Applejack and it was happening to her: once you get the jitters, they tend to stick around.

String Bean took full advantage of that. He kept his eyes firmly on his target, and tossed his horseshoes carefully and slowly, making sure to shake his arms after every toss so he didn’t end up shivering too much. It took him longer to get the first one down, but the second came right after, and he managed a clean third shot mere seconds after that, putting him dead even with his opponent.  

Then came the hay.  

After dashing to the next site and getting into the red circle, Apple Bloom took the rope in her mouth and whirled it around like a skilled rodeo pony, before whipping her head back and forth to yank one of the haybales off the pile and into place. It didn’t matter if the landing wasn’t too clean: she could stack them up just fine afterwards.  

String Bean, though, had a tougher time at it. His skill with the rope was fine for a beginner, more than fine, in fact. He moved his head and the rope with a calm and calculated rhythm, the likes of which Apple Bloom would have sooner expected from a soldier than a rodeo pony. He couldn’t hit the hay as easily as she could, but he got it, still.

Dragging that weight down, though, was something he definitely struggled with. 

He copied her motions perfectly, from the whip in the neck to the rearing up to throw his whole bodyweight into it. But while Apple Bloom had managed to toss her fourth hay bale down, String Bean had barely managed to get two.

Huh? Come on, he can’t be that weak. He must have some power in his body.

“Come on, Shtring Bean,” Apple Bloom said with the rope still in her mouth. “Show ush whatchur made of.”

He snorted, tossed the rope over another bale, clenched his jaw, and threw his whole little body into the motion. “T-three!”

He got it. Apple Bloom’s breath caught when she saw him lift up that bale like a real rodeo pony.  

Then he buckled. She could see the ropey muscles in his legs give out right as his target had hit its highest point. He went down, and ended up yanking that mass of hay straight down with him.

She spit out the rope when she realised what was happening. “String Bean, watch out!”

In a reflex, he bunched up his whole body, closed his eyes, and let loose a bolt of bright green energy that swelled up inside the hay, making the rope bindings crack and break. It exploded, and hay rained down on him.

Apple Bloom rushed to him as quick as she could. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

“I reckon you slipped a little there, little guy,” Cherry Jubilee said, approaching him. “How are you feelin’? Your eyes don’t look so sharp.”

“Yeah, are you seein’ stars?” Apple Bloom asked. All over his neck and chest, she could see twitches under his skin, a sure sign his muscles weren’t up to the task.  

“I’m fine. No stars, no dark, I can see you two just fine.” String Bean rubbed his head as he got back on his hooves. “Sorry about the hay, Miss.”

“Oh, it’s only hay, never you mind, better that than to have it knock you silly,” Miss Jubilee replied. “That was a fine display from the both of you. You obviously bit off more than you could chew, little boy, you’ve earned your prize. Heavens know you need to get some energy back after that.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” String Bean said. “But I didn’t win. I had to use magic, which means I forfeited.” He got up and extended a hoof for Apple Bloom to shake. “You were right, Apple Bloom. I can’t do this sort of thing like Earth ponies do.”

As much as she liked winning – it ran in her family, after all – Apple Bloom wasn’t too excited about her victory. “That’s not a bad thing, String Bean. You wanted to know what your talent is, and now you do: it’s magic. You don’t have to pretend you’re an Earth pony, you don’t have to go doing Earth pony things, you’re a fine enough wizard. There are plenty of things you can do that’ll suit you better.”

“Yeah, sure there are.” He turned his back on the two Earth ponies and walked off. “I think I’ll just stick to my strengths, then, find something wizardly to do.”

Cherry Jubilee shot a confused look at the girl. “Now what was that all about?”

“I don’t know.” Apple Bloom looked up. “He’s looking for his talent. His talent’s obviously magic.”

“Obviously. It’s not physical work, for sure, you’d be able to tell by now if he’s had that mark for a while.”

“I think maybe I hurt his pride or somethin’? Why would he feel bad about this? He’s a wizard, they do lots of stuff we can’t. Shouldn’t that make him prouder?”

“Hmm.” Jubilee winced. “Unless he’s used to winning with his magic, and never goes without it.”

“How do you figure?”

“It’s a hard thing to admit a weakness, hun, you should know that by now. Plenty of rodeo ponies struggle with it, especially the ones who try to do every event. Even your sister had trouble admitting her weaknesses, as an adult, I might add.”

That was, indeed, a sentiment she could relate to. “Oh, yeah, like that. Definitely hurt pride, then.”

“A boy like that, not used to competing, or losing? Hurt pride sounds like a fair bet to me. Come on, I’ll get ya your cherry jam cupcakes and the scarf. And if you see that boy again, be sure to tell him he can come get his, too, you hear? He’s definitely got a talent for something, and I’d hate to be the one to put it on the wrong path.”

Talent? Yeah, what exactly is his talent, anyway? If it’s farm work, it’s got to be magic farm work. But what does that cutie mark mean, then? It can’t just be his magic, he’s been using it all day and he still feels rotten. 

Apple Bloom pondered the idea, then pondered some more, then started ruminating on it and she did not like it one bit. That feeling, that nagging feeling from before, started to gnaw at her brain.  

Why do I feel like I’m forgettin’ something here?





The squash competition was over, the cucumbers had all been judged, and Apple Bloom didn’t feel like checking up on String Bean while he was upset, so after lunch she walked along with Grand Pear down the halls of the specialists.  

She would go back to String Bean, she knew that much. Anything beyond that was still in the planning stages at best.  

Maybe I can cheer him up with a regular old pep talk. It’s just a little hurt pride, that’s no biggie. All I gotta do is tell him it’s okay to be a wizard and he’s not gonna be happy pretending to be something he’s not. Easy peasy, he already knows he ain’t happy doing his growth magic just for some juice. Some bigger ambitions’ll suit him, if I can find any.

“You okay, Apple Bloom?” Grand Pear asked. “You’ve been kind of pensive since lunch.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just, you know, digestin’ some stuff.”

“Mhmm. Well, put on your diplomat face, we’re gonna be talking to some foreigners.”

Said foreigners could be heard and smelled long before they were seen. Stomps and smashes rang through the air, punctuated by two-word roars that sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite make out the actual words. When the stall came into view, Apple Bloom realised she’d have to be on her best behaviour. “Yak farmers. Of course.”

“Greetings, ponies!” The older-looking yak bull at the stand said. “Yak Hemmerbrid welcome and pleased to see interest in yak Frost Fungus farming!”

Apple Bloom furrowed her brow when she heard the yak’s name, but then she noticed the rocks Hemmerbrid had braided into his hair, making it look like he wore upside-down hammers. She suspected those things were an improvised weapon, too, on the off chance the horns couldn’t reach. Judging by the voice, he was a little older than Prince Rutherford, but younger than her grandfather.

“Frost Fungus?” Grand Pear said. “Oh, my. You never see that stuff outside of a museum. Very hardy organism, very tough.” His eyes wandered to the knives hanging about the stall, and Apple Bloom took a moment to appreciate it, too. Those things looked like they could cut through bone like butter.

“Pony correct. Only yak strong enough to farm Frost Fungus, only finest yak like Likkenstomp smart enough to learn.” Hemmerbrid nodded to his younger compatriot, who made a point not to get too close, lest he get a hammering from those braids.

“Oh, always nice to see traditions passing on. I’m Grand Pear, this is my granddaughter, Apple Bloom.”

Likkenstomp grunted in approval. He had to be about Big Mac’s age, little bit older, if the fluff in his ears was anything to go by. “Old pony known to yak. Little pony heard of from student in Ponyville.”

So Yona had mentioned her to her fellow yaks. “Only good things, I hope,” Apple Bloom started.  

“Little pony good at smashing,” Likkenstomp replied. He grunted again. “Messy smashing, not yak way. Room for improvement!”

Much to her surprise, Grand Pear didn’t press the issue. “So what’s your process, then? I mean, obviously there’s a few trade secrets, but broadly speaking, what do you do? Do you use magic or some type of trained animal?”

“No and no, old pony, is all yak! First yak look for tree likely to have fungal growth. Strong trunk, crown shaped like yak helmet, receding roots, all good signs of fungal growth. Then, yak sniff.” Hemmerbrid made a point to sniff the air as gruffly as he could. “Big, old, wise yak know smell of good tree, teach young yak how to smell.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Grand Pear said. “Then it’s a family thing, I take it?”

“Pony take right. Frost Fungus searching very important for family bonding. When good tree is found, harvesting can begin, traditional way.”

Apple Bloom tried to remember if she’d ever heard anyone in Ponyville mention this Frost Fungus thing at all, but nothing came to mind. Considering how Zap Apples and Quartz Quinces were grown, she figured she might as well ask. “Traditional, how?”

“Yak smash!” Likkenstomp pounded the table hard enough to shake the ground. The knives hanging by the stand rattled ominously.

“Uhuh.” Grand Pear adjusted his footing. “So you bring down the tree, makes sense. Kinda like how truffles are found, then?”

“Of course not, truffles totally different!” Hemmerbrid replied. “Requires much less precision. Young Frost Fungus very delicate,” he whispered. “Like snowflake when little. Only yak know how to smash it right.”

“I’m sure. And after you bring down the tree, what then?”

“Yak dig up root very carefully and inspect for any traces of fungal intrusion.” Likkenstomp explained calmly. “Yak take careful note of all places where nodules form, report to yak agricultural engineers for approval, and predict vectors of infection with maximal accuracy. Is yak science. Like pony science, but better.” He grinned.  

Grand Pear exchanged a glance with Apple Bloom and nodded. “Oh, that does actually does sound quite scientific. And how do your engineers process such information?”

“Yak smash!” Again, Likkenstomp smashed the ground. This time, the impact was enough for Apple Bloom to start shaking like a rung bell.

Grand Pear put a hoof on her to stop the shaking, not even taking his eyes off the yaks. “Never woulda guessed.”

“Yak don’t just take Frost Fungus out of dirt: yak expose to air, yak find places on felled trunk to put little fungus pieces in. Yak get plenty more fungus that way,” Hemmerbrid explained.  

“Interesting.” Grand Pear looked up and tapped his chin sagely, thinking out loud. “So you do actually farm the Frost Fungus, but your base stock always shifts depending on what tree it’s on. I suppose that would help prevent any diseases from spreading, especially considering you’re probably dealing with a monoculture and all.”

“Old pony smart, is exactly why yak farm traditionally,” Hemmerbrid said.  

“But still, mature Frost Fungus is a very tenacious thing, hard as a glacier in the dead of winter. How do you harvest something that’s basically icey rock when mature?”

“Yak smash!” Likkenstomp illustrated his tradition again, this time stopping the rattling of the knives himself. From the looks of the holes on the table top, those things had already fallen down more than once today.  

“You don’t say,” Grand Pear remarked.  

“Wood must be smashed in very particular pattern, free mature growths and spread spores into ground for future generations. Yak smash sustainably!” Hemmerbrid proudly held up one of his hooves.  

“And how do you process the product?” Grand Pear’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s anything like reindeer lichen, it must absorb a lot of stuff from the air. Are there any toxins you need to watch out for?”

Hemmerbrid grunted. “Oh, yes, yes, high risk of toxins, especially when in hard form, requires careful preparation and boiling. So yak smash!”

Apple Bloom and Grand Pear braced themselves for the blow.

Instead, though, Hemmerbrid brought up a slice of bread smeared with their signature product. “Into fine paste that goes nicely with some black and blue yeti cheese.”

Given that the cheese itself was more of an off-white with green dots in it, Apple Bloom figured the yaks were referring to a black and blue yeti, or possibly one they’d beaten black and blue beforehoof. The paste was a clear ice blue, and appeared to almost glow on top of the cheese. Grand Pear grabbed a slice and took a tentative bite. He nodded and hmm-ed in approval. Not about to make her grandfather look bad, Apple Bloom tried a bite herself.

The taste was nostalgic to her. It reminded her, quite specifically, of a time not too long ago when she and her friends had gotten the idea to do a little cheerleading routine for Rainbow Dash, though Apple Bloom suspected Scootaloo wanted to repeat the performance for Rumble sometime. Sweetie Belle had spent most of the day making costumes and pompoms, and Tender Taps had offered to help out, as he had a little bit of experience in choreography. They’d taken all day to get the routine down just right, and when they were ready and Sweetie Belle had finished her last pompom, Applejack had come by with a tasty treat.

The cheese did not taste like that treat at all. It did, however, taste exactly like one of Scootaloo’s sweaty socks that had somehow ended up in Apple Bloom’s mouth when their pony pyramid collapsed. ‘Salty Sweat of Pegasus’ wasn’t exactly her favourite flavour, and she gagged as soon as the nostalgia factor had worn off.  

Hemmerbrid growled. “Little pony no appreciate hard yak work?”

Apple Bloom quickly gulped it down. “Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s just that I’ve been going around all day and I’ve got the sickly sweet taste of mango in my mouth, still. This is delicious, though, nice palette cleanser.”

“Don’t worry about my granddaughter, Hemmerbrid, you know how little children are when their taste buds aren’t fully grown yet,” Grand Pear explained.  

“Hmm. Little weak pony need weak pony flavours. Yak understand.”

Apple Bloom quickly swallowed the slice, and pretended the ensuing ‘burp’ wasn’t an attempt by her stomach to clear out what it mistakenly identified as a used Pegasus sock. Not that she blamed her stomach for that, as it was an easy mistake to make. “Wow, I can tell a lot of work went into that, and what an interesting culture, too. You know, between the farming and the holidays I’ve heard of, I can’t help but notice yaks smash up a lot of wood. Is there a story behind that?”

Likkenstomp didn’t even need to think about his answer. “Yak can’t help notice ponies still have Timberwolf problem. Yak do not. That story behind smashing.”

“Oh. Touché.”

“Gesundheit.”

Grand Pear nudged her along. “Well, we’ll leave you gentleyaks to your business. We’ll come by for a jar when we’ve done our rounds.”

“Yak will be waiting!” Hemmerbrid called out.

“That was close,” Grand Pear whispered once the yaks were out of earshot. “Quick thinking, though.”

“Thanks. Where to next?”

“I’ve got a little surprise for ya.” He winked. “Very important fellows, had to pull a few strings to get them to show up. And pull a few legs, too.”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widened when she saw one of the stalls nearby.  

“Grand Pear!” The owner called out, while his associates waved in greeting. “We made it! And look, we even got the sign done, just like you said.”

The filly stopped and looked at her grandfather. He smirked and looked right back.

The owners of the stall were brightly coloured, deer-faced, and had eyes with strange lens-like growths hiding the pupils. The largest of them, whom she knew as current leader of the Hive, also sported a set of antlers shaped like the claws of a stag beetle.  

Not that any of that really mattered, she realised, because they were all, without exception, shapeshifters. She looked at the sign and idly wondered if that was really a delegate in disguise.  

“You never told me you knew changelings,” she said.

“Haven’t known’em for long,” the old stallion replied casually. “And I haven’t had much time to tell you. Which reminds me, Apple Bloom: your grandfather’s on speaking terms with the new head honcho of the changeling Hive.”

“Uhuh.” She skipped along a few paces to stand right in front of the stall. “Heya, Thorax.”

“Hello to you, too, Apple Bloom,” the changeling leader replied, giving her a dignified nod.

“Well now, don’t tell me you two’ve met already?” Grand Pear asked, pouting. “And here I was hoping to impress you.”

“We’re both friends with Spike, Twilight’s dragon friend,” Apple Bloom said, gesturing to the changeling leader. “And we met when Thorax and Ember had a double booking in Ponyville. I tried givin’ him some tips on how to farm, but I ain’t exactly got my degree in agricultural whatchamacallits yet.”

Thorax chuckled nervously. “No. I still appreciated it, though. It’s nice knowing at least one pony can keep it simple. Or two.” He nodded to Grand Pear. “Made the follow-up visits from Canterlot a lot less embarrassing.”

“So what are y’all selling?” Apple Bloom asked, looking at the sign on the stall, then the produce they’d brought. Neither made much sense: the product looked like a ball of cotton candy, only the cottony texture had longer fibres than usual. The name for it was downright confusing. “A thneed? What in tarnation is a thneed?”

“Oh, a thneed is a fine something that all creatures need,” one of the changelings next to Thorax replied. “It’s a fibre, you see, but one you can eat. You can put it in soup or weave it into a sheet.”

Grand Pear rolled his eyes. “No need for the rhyming, Notum, she’s not asking for a sales pitch.”

Notum grumbled. “Shoot. Well, I’m sure you’ll hear that old rhyme in school anyway. A thneed is basically a ball of fluff, like cotton. And it can be used like cotton, too, except it’s also something a lot of animals can eat. It doesn’t taste very well on its own, mind you, it’s like bread without a crust, but it gives soups a lovely zest. It’s even a good construction material. Oh, and you can make string instruments with it. Antique instruments, that is. Well, new antiques. I guess technically they wouldn’t be antiques, then, would they?”

“He means it’s what ponies used to use for cello and violin strings and such. It’s one of those materials with a million uses,” Grand Pear said. “Used to be big business, too.”

“Used to be?” Apple Bloom asked.

“The thneed is made from the tufts of a very particular and rare tree, called the truffula tree,” Thorax said. “Apparently, ponies once found a whole forest near the Southern border, realised it could be turned into something everyone wanted, and started chopping down trees to harvest. The truffula tree was brought from flourishing forests to the edge of extinction within months.”

“Wow. What happened then?”

“It got pushed over the edge, of course,” Notum joked. “At least in pony lands. But, as it turns out, we built our Hive right near another forest of truffula, and we, ah… we may have sucked the life of them so much they went into hibernation. Once Chrysalis was exiled and we stopped draining the land of love, the truffula trees grew back. Slowly at first, since it takes over twenty years for a seed to grow into an adult. Thankfully, their hibernation strategy doesn’t take as long to reverse.”

“Huh. Ain’t you riskin’ the same mistake, then?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Some ponies have come by to warn us,” Thorax said. “A few farmers, mostly Earth ponies, but it’s the salesponies who were most helpful, really.”

“The truffula boom and bust doesn’t get taught to farming ponies nowadays,” Grand Pear explained. “But it does get taught in economics. Sustainable farming means more than just protecting your crop and the land it grows on. You gotta be able to survive off it, too.”

Apple Bloom caught the hint. “Can’t farm the right way if you’re starving in the process.”

Grand Pear smiled. “Exactly.”

“So instead of selling thneeds for cheap and for everything, it’s more of seasonal thing and more specialised now,” Thorax said. “Grand Pear was a big help in getting us set up for that.”

“Oh, twas nothing. Simple business sense, anypony could’ve done it.”

“Wow.” Apple Bloom leaned in closer to the little fluffballs. “So y’all are selling treefluff from a tree that’s supposed to be extinct?”

“Yup,” Thorax replied. “A lot less than the ponies did, obviously, but we’ve worked out a way to farm the tufts without endangering the forest. Well, ponies did, I suppose. I just did the talking.”  

Grand Pear nudged Apple Bloom. “That’ll be the next fella we talk to. We’ll be back in a bit, Thorax, after we finish our rounds.”

The two moved along, and Apple Bloom was still reeling. “Wow. Who’d have thought changelings would end up farming something that’s extinct?”

“It’s amazing how things turn out, sometimes. But they had some help. Speakin’ of which, here’s one of my suppliers.” They stopped in front of a stand with flowerpots that contained exactly the same fluffballs as on the truffula trees, except far smaller. “Apple Bloom, this is Fleet Star. He’s a professional grafter, one of the few Unicorns in Equestria that can do it. He’s also got a tree nursery near the border.”

Fleet Star was a light green Unicorn with the same rugged build as Shining Armour, and a wizardly beard to go along with it. He looked older, though, around Mister Cake’s age, at least.  

“A tree nursery? Oh, I get it. Like for endangered trees. Those truffulas, you mean. You grow those?”

“Sort of,” Fleet replied. “I take the tops off some of the trees and graft them to different roots, makes them easier to grow and manage. Same as apple and pear trees.”

She shook her head. “What?”

“You didn’t know? I suppose you’re a bit young to have had that lesson yet. Grafting’s really important when it comes to fruit trees. It’s actually rare to have a tree standing on its own roots. Your Zap Apples are an exception there, but everything else is mixed.”

She snorted mischievously. “You know, grandpa, if you wanted me to learn about having pear roots and apple fruits, you didn’t need to be that roundabout about it.”

Fleet Star let out a hearty laugh and clapped his hooves. “Haha! Oh, you weren’t kidding, Captain Cork, she is a smart one.”

“That she is," Grand Pear replied. "And gettin’ smarter by the second.”

“Captain Cork?” Apple Bloom asked.

“An unfortunate nickname I got during a few boating expeditions,” he explained. “Where’s your old boss, Fleet? I thought Bones McColt wouldn’t miss this for the world. Don’t tell me he’s got the Feather Flu again?”

“Not this time, no. The EEA is on his case again about his choice in students,” Fleet said.

Grand Pear grunted. “Don’t tell me: the Unicorn thing again?”

“The Unicorn thing again. Can’t teach Unicorns if you don’t have the proper certification, and the proper certification isn’t easy to get. Rotten shame, too,” the grafter said. “It’s hard enough finding other Unicorns who want to grow things as it is, let alone ones with a talent for it. But no, the EEA still wants them all in the Royal Guard, so…”

This sounded like a very grownup and mature thing to be talking about. So naturally, Apple Bloom felt the need to pipe in and impress her grandfather some more. “Well, we do kinda need wizards for the Royal Guard. At least a few.”

“Sure, sure, not denying you need some.” Fleet Star leaned in closer so he could look at her more clearly. ”But not every Unicorn wants to be a wizard, is the thing, and not every wizard makes a good Royal Guard. Matter of fact, they’ve been upping the wizard ranks for years now, decades, and it’s only made them weaker for some reason. Besides, the EEA has no business telling ponies where to send their kids, anyhow.” He turned to Grand Pear.  

Grand Pear grumbled in agreement. “Given where they usually send the youngins, no.”

Apple Bloom’s ears perked, and she got the distinct impression all this grownup talk was going over her head. That just wouldn’t do. “And where might that be?”

“Canterlot, of course,” Fleet replied. “Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, the Royal Guard Junior Prep Academy, the Star Swirl School for Struggling Spellslingers, magic schools pop up like cabbages in that town, and the EEA keeps finding ways to fill them.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Apple Bloom said.  

“If you’re up for it, no,” Grand Pear said. “But nowadays Canterlot is so hyped up there’s not a single Unicorn willing to let their foals study magic anywhere else.”

“Or to let them study anything but magic, for that matter,” said the grafter. “It’s easier, they’ll say, and fairer to the other students who have to do everything by hoof. Easier on the faculty, maybe. Unicorn craftsponies are gonna be endangered soon if the EEA gets their way. Unicorn farmers already are, thanks to Poppyhock’s propaganda machine. Did you hear she’s trying to ditch her son in Canterlot? After everything she did, after making such a spectacle of her divorce, that’s how she treats her own flesh and blood.”

“Perhaps,” Grand Pear nodded slowly, pensively. “But still, the EEA seems happy with her, and it’s not like either of us can do anything about it.”

Apple Bloom felt a shiver run up her spine. “Umm, excuse me, but this is just that mare from before, right? That mare’s in the EEA? She’s the reason Hall 3 was full of health food shams? I thought Chancellor Neighsay was in charge of that?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know, sorry,” Fleet replied. “Yes, Poppyhock is in charge of the farmers’ education in Equestria. All three major branches have their own head, Neighsay’s more of an overseer. And I hear he’s mellowed out lately, at least a little.”

Apple Bloom scrunched her nose. “Umm, no offence, but isn’t she a Unicorn?”

“Does that matter?” Fleet asked.  

“It sure sounds like it’s matterin’ to her.”

He chuckled again. “Yes, Poppy… she’s more of a traditionalist. Likes everyone to have their place and stay there, you understand. She started this boom in health foods because of some misguided attempt to make everypony stronger by having everyone follow her standards, never mind whether those standards are even worth following. Besides that, she’s obsessed with getting Unicorns to become wizards, regardless of what they want, or what they can do. At least the Pegasi in the EEA still let their children do sports on the ground, Poppy’s tried to ban little Unicorns from everything that’s non-magical. Her son’s just another pony to be put in a box, and his box is gonna be in Canterlot, apparently, in the Royal Guard. I tell ya, any other pony in Canterlot would get banished over what she’s trying to pull, but she gets rewarded for it. I honestly feel sorry for the kid.”

Grand Pear closed his eyes and shrugged. “He’s still young, he can make his own choices when he’s older. And he could always find a good teacher outside of Canterlot. You did.”  

Fleet Star snorted, leaning on one arm. “Good luck to him, then. Even if you could find a regular teacher like Mister McColt, that doesn’t teach you the magic side of it, except maybe the watering part. Took me five years to find a certified instructor, and I had to go abroad for that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to learn magic from an elephant? They’re the worst teachers you could have: they never forget a mistake you make, and they never let you forget it, either. Unicorn magic is finicky when it comes to farming, you know that. Only a master wizard of the fifth branch can teach that kind of thing, and none of the ones in Canterlot ever get past third. There’s a reason Princess Celestia still uses growth magic as her entrance test.”

Apple Bloom felt her heart sink. Growth magic. Twilight’s entrance exam. String Bean’s talent is literally passing the entrance exam to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. “So, umm, Poppy’s son, I don’t suppose he’s about my age? And, oh, I don’t know, light green, kinda tall, slender arms?”

“String bean arms, that’s him.” The grafter nodded. “She named him that when he was born, too: String Bean. Goes to show how much she was expecting out of him. He’ll probably end up on the recruitment posters soon.”

“And she wants him to be a Royal Guard?” Apple Bloom asked.

“Yup,” Grand Pear replied. “It’s one of those Canterlot public secrets.”

“But he’s my age,” she noted. “You can’t put a boy like that in the Royal Guard.”

Fleet Star’s ears fell back. “No, but you’d be surprised what you can do with a boy like that. Junior drill camp, wizard Sunday school...”

“Don’t forget the Rangers,” Grand Pear added. “And after-school counselling for talented Unicorns. That is, if he doesn’t manage to get under Princess Celestia’s roof, which he probably will. Not to mention all the coaches with connections.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’ve had to cast shield spells on my nephew to get those ponies off his back.” Fleet Star said, before turning back to Apple Bloom. “See, little girl, you can’t force a pony to become a Royal Guard, that’s true. But you can put them on the road to Canterlot. That’s what they do with colts who do show promise, who have what it takes to be wizard in the Guard. But if they don’t, you can still nudge them. You can nudge them a lot. And if you do it enough, they’ll keep walking to Canterlot, until they can’t see any other roads anymore. You don’t have to nudge a pony with blinders on, you see, they’ll walk where you want’em regardless.”

Apple Bloom shivered. “Sounds like you’re speakin’ from experience, Mister.”

“That’s because I am, and your grandfather knows it. I was on that road for quite a while when I was little, and I almost went through to become a Royal Guard myself. Almost.” He looked at Grand Pear then.  

Apple Bloom felt her heart skip a beat. “What changed?”

“I got an apprenticeship, after somepony put in a good word for me. No one ever told me who it was or why, exactly, but I can only suspect it was someone who’d seen what happens when ponies are pushed too far the wrong way. Not that that gives us any clues.”

“Yes, it is a quite a mystery,” Grand Pear remarked. “And our community is so very tight-lipped about its secrets and connections, I fear we may never know your benefactor. But still, we’re all happy to have a Unicorn who can graft. Most Earth ponies think twice the first time they get tentacles.”

Apple Bloom got the message, and its implication.  

Someone who’s seen what happens when ponies are pushed too far the wrong way. Like my mom. Gosh, how many years has he been coming here, waiting for Granny Smith to show up again, or my dad? Did he really push them that hard?

Did I? String Bean’s been getting pushed, I guess, but I didn’t know that. 

So this whole time he’s been wanting to be a farmer because his mother wants him to join the Royal Guard? That’s why he doesn’t want to grow trees? Because his mom doesn’t approve? Because the EEA doesn’t want Unicorns to be doing Earth pony things?

It makes sense, I guess. He doesn’t want to be a wizard because being a wizard means being a Royal Guard.

Well, worse, if you think about it, really. Being a wizard means not having any choice. Not having any fun. 

But that doesn’t mean anything, all I’ve been trying to tell him is… oh, no.

Apple Bloom gulped. “Umm, Grand Pear? About puttin’ in good words and pushing ponies the wrong way, do you think I could talk to you somewhere in private?”
> Splitting Heirs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grand Pear found a quiet spot near a corner, behind an ice cream stand.  

“What’s the matter, Apple Bloom?” he asked.  

She gulped. “Umm, that boy you were talking about? String Bean? I ran into him. We talked, and… I think I may have messed him up kinda badly.”

“Really, he’s here? Huh. Didn’t think he’d ever get this far.” The old stallion’s teeth clenched ever so slightly, making her shiver. “Messed him up, how?”

Apple Bloom scratched her head and tried to gather up her words as best she could before answering, “Well, first he was making regular fruit juice with this machine of his, because he wanted to find out what his talent was, what his cutie mark meant. He said he didn’t like making juice, exactly, but he knew it was close. So I told him to make it more his own thing, try something traditional. You know, Unicorn-y.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Grand Pear said with a smile. “Nothing wrong with encouraging a little pride in your history, within reason.”

“It worked. Except then he made old recipes, from, umm, well, he made Earth pony recipes. And he still didn’t think that was really his talent. So I maybe kinda told him to try something more wizardly again.”

The stallion’s smile faded. “I see. And he didn’t take that too well, did he?”

Apple Bloom’s chest ached at the thought. “He did, actually, at first. He went the health nut route, started listing off all this good stuff he put in, makin’ herbal tonics and medicinal juices. I didn’t even know that was a Unicorn thing. He sold a lot more, but he still didn’t feel right about it, and he still did everything the same way: with magic and machine. So I thought maybe him using magic in the first place was the whole problem. If he wants to do Earth pony things, he should be doing them like Earth ponies do, you know? So then I kinda, sorta… challenged him to Cherry Jubilee’s rodeo set-up. With a ‘no magic’ rule. And that’s where it went really wrong.”

Grand Pear nodded knowingly. “He couldn’t do it, huh? He’s not a particularly strong boy, from what I’ve seen of him. Fast runner, though, very mobile, which is an essential trait for a wizard.” He rolled his eyes. “’Specially nowadays.”

“Uhuh. I think… I’m worried I got it into his head that he can’t be a farmer because he keeps doing things with magic.”

Rather than frowning, Grand Pear looked pensive. He waited until a pair of nearby Pegasi had passed out of earshot before continuing. “You just said if he wanted to do Earth pony things, he should do them like Earth ponies do. Why wouldn’t he get that into his head?”

She shrugged. “I figured maybe there was some kinda farming Unicorns did that Earth ponies don’t do, like Mister Fleet, that would be perfect. I thought I could get him to find his own thing, figure out his real talent. I didn’t think he’d take it that way.”

Grand Pear fell silent, thinking it over some more. “Still not making any sense there, Apple Bloom. You told him the honest truth, how was he supposed to take it, then?”

“I don’t know.” She groaned. “To be totally honest, I think Sweetie Belle’s the one who should talk to him, she’s seen this kinda situation before. Rarity makes her dresses with machines and with magic, but there’s plenty of Earth pony dressmakers, too. Not a lot of Unicorn farmers, though.”

“That, I do understand. It’s a tough gig, especially now. Between Princess Luna returning, and all those evils from a millennium ago coming back, not to mention the new ones, there’s a lot of pressure on colts to become Royal Guards. That’s doubly true for Unicorns.”

“But I didn’t know that. I didn’t know any of this. If I had, I’d have said something different.”

“What does it matter? You tried your best, you gave your honest opinion. What more could anyone ask?”

“Somethin’ better. I’m not supposed to make that kind of mistake anymore. I’m supposed to...” She wiped her nose, lost for words.

Grand Pear lifted her chin up. “You’re supposed to be a proud member of the Apple family, is that it?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m always gonna be that. But I’m more than that. I’m… I’ve got my duties, and I’ve got a talent, my talent, all mine. I help other ponies with cutie mark problems. My friends do, too, but I’m the only one who does it my way, there’s only one of me and there’s only ever gonna be one of me. I spent a long time trying to find out who I was deep down, what I was meant to do. It’s not exactly saving Equestria like my sister or pulling houses like my brother, sure, but it’s still something that counts. That’s still something I can do, something special. And I thought maybe if I did that today, I could show you, and you’d be proud of me. But I didn’t want to force String Bean to stop using magic.”

He snorted. “Why not? You’ve seen how much trouble it causes, how vain some Unicorns get over it.”

Apple Bloom looked around to make sure there weren’t any Unicorns around to overhear them. “Sure, some of them, but Unicorns don’t fix everything with magic, grandpa. It’s only a few of them who get really powerful, and that kinda power comes with a price. Rarity can’t even teleport, neither can Sweetie Belle. Twilight Spa- I mean, Princess Twilight Sparkle’s an absolute mess sometimes, and she’s not powerful enough to deal with everything just like that. Starlight Glimmer is even worse, and that’s without being a Canterlot pony. It’s not fair that some ponies are expected to fix everything just because they’re born with a horn. It’s not fair that they’d have to spend days cooped up in some book tower, studying new spells just to fix something other ponies are too lazy to do for themselves. That’s not their responsibility. And it’s not fair that some pony’s expected to give up their whole future just because of how they were born, either.”

Grand Pear smiled. “Huh. That’s a pretty good argument, Apple Bloom. Where’d you get so smart?”

“I paid attention to my friends, is all. And I listen to a lot of stories. You didn’t mean that, did you? About Unicorns?”

“Of course not. Well, mostly.” He patted her on the back and sighed. “Unicorns have their virtues and vices, same as any creature in this world that’s smart enough to talk. But everypony has their place, Apple Bloom, everyone’s got their strengths and weaknesses. It’s easy to forget sometimes, though. Pride’s a funny thing like that.”

“So you’re not disappointed I messed up?”

“It’s an honest mistake, and the day’s not over yet. You can still talk to the boy, reason with him now that you know the whole story. And for the record: I am proud of you, Apple Bloom, prouder than you know. Always have been. I’ve been saving news articles about you since the first time you hit the papers. Sure, your sister helps save the world every now and then, and your brother is… not a stallion I’d lightly trifle with, but Applejack’s a pony chosen by destiny, and Big Mac is a pony blessed with strength. You? A little filly like you has no business trying to measure up to that, nopony in their right mind would expect you to, and yet there you are, makin’ the papers even more regularly than they do. I’ve always been proud of you, Apple Bloom. You look so much like...” The stallion smiled, sighed, and wiped his eyes.

Apple Bloom’s ears flicked. “Like my mom?”

He nodded. “More than Applejack and Big Mac do, so much more.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Your brother and sister? It’s there, sure, but they’ve got more of your father in’em. And as much I’ve wanted to remember your father as a no-good cretin for stealing my daughter away, the fact of the matter is he was an honest stallion, a pony of his word, and honourable to a fault. He got that from the Apple side of the family, and so did your siblings. But you?” He chuckled. “Not quite the same. You’re not afraid to skirt the rules if you think you’re doing the right thing. You’ve got a bit of a sneaky streak to you, and you can be downright thieving with your eyes. I’ll bet that zebra friend of yours never has to show you anything twice when it comes to brewing potions.”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but, yeah, I am pretty good at that sort of thing. Did I get that from you?”

“No, no.” He averted his eyes. “You’ve got my sense of pride, that’s for sure. A very powerful thing to have, too, but dangerous. Pride like mine can ruin your life if you’re not careful. No, you got your cleverness from your grandmother. Your looks, too.”

This was where she lost him. “I dunno, I’ve seen Granny Smith’s old pic-oh.” She gasped as it dawned on her. “Oh.”

“I’m sure some of the ponies around here have told you already, or maybe they didn’t quite know how to say it, but you’re the spitting image of my Moonglow when she was young. Same mane, same tail, same way with words, and the same curious eyes. Your mother inherited that clever streak from her. Any pony who knew Moonglow back in the day would recognise you as her grandchild without a second glance. Applejack and Big Mac, not so much.” Grand Pear shuddered. “And if that sneaky streak skips a generation, they’re gonna have one heck of a time keeping tabs on any great-grandfoals they give me.”

“Umm, they did. The ponies around here. Mention it, I mean.” She tensed up and leaned closer to him, lowering her voice. “But, come to think of it, they mentioned something else, too.”

Silence fell between them for a moment. Grand Pears ears fell back, before pricking back up as he spoke. “I thought they might.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip. “Why’d you bring me here, Grand Pear? Really?”

“The short story? I wanted to see how you’d act. The long story? We don’t have time for that.”

“But-”

He gently pushed her away and lowered his head so he could speak on her level. “It’s fine, Apple Bloom. I’m fine. I know you’ve probably heard some scary things about my ticker and whatnot, but nothing’s the matter. We’ve already spent precious time debating and if I know Poppy’s schedule to these events, we don’t have long before she’ll come check up on her son again, and he might do something he can’t undo. Matter of fact, I suspect she was planning on just that, letting him show up here in the first place. You go and say what you meant to say, we can talk about all this other stuff after.”





String Bean still had his sign up, he still kept up his salespony smile for every customer who asked for some healthy, freshly made juice. His eyes looked sunken now, though, and he seemed to have trouble keeping his head up. Whether that was the sadness or exhaustion from using his magic, Apple Bloom couldn’t tell.  

He stopped smiling when it was her turn. There was no one behind her, no need to keep up appearances.  

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I want to apologise for giving you the wrong idea,” she replied. “I didn’t mean it like that, I should have been more careful.”

He glared at her, nose curled. “You wanted me to join the Royal Guard, too.”

“No, I didn’t. I never even mentioned the Royal Guard.”

“You want me to be a wizard, which is the same thing, just like everypony else. The first thing you said to me when I showed you all this was that it was a waste.”

She groaned in frustration. “Yeah, I said it was a waste, but I didn’t mean it was a waste of magic: I meant the seeds.” She pointed a hoof at the pots and bags he had in the back of his stand. “You’re using exotic plants here, and just throwin’ away perfectly good plant stock for a little cup of juice. Every single one of those could be a full-grown tree, you’ve got a small orchard going just for lemonade. I didn’t mean your magic. If you want to grow things, you can. You wouldn’t believe the magic they’re using to farm trees nowadays. Magic trees, sometimes.”

“I tried that already, it’s not my talent. It doesn’t feel right,” he argued.  

“Are you sure? Because, you know, turns out grafting’s still a good craft to learn. And a rare one, too.”

He let his head rest on his hooves, body draped over the counter. “I know, doesn’t matter. The EEA wouldn’t let a Unicorn become a grafter.”

“You mean your mom wouldn’t let you.”

He threw up one of his arms for dramatic effect. “Even if she didn’t, you have to go outside of Equestria to find anyone certified in growth magic, nobody wants that kind of Unicorn anymore. But everyone wants more Royal Guards, and it’ll be easy for me to get into any academy, so I guess I’m gonna be a Royal Guard. My mom’s been sending me flyers and magazines all day about how great it is.”

Apple Bloom walked behind the counter to check the flyers, and the mirror they’d been sent to. A whole pile of leaflets and brochures littered the floor, all for ‘prep camp’ this and ‘bright future’ that. Every single one had eager colts on the front, all with sword or shield or helmet cutie marks.

She looked at her own cutie mark, then his. A nagging thought started to form in her mind, but she couldn’t quite figure out how to word it. “But is that what you want?”

“I’ll learn to like it.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Is that what you want?”

He took in a deep breath, curling his nostrils. “No.”

“Then what is?”

“I want to know what I’m good for!” he snapped, rising up on his hind hooves. “There, is that what you wanted to hear? I want to know what this stupid bean on my side means if nothing I do or like doing has anything to do with beans. I want to know what I’m supposed to do with my life if I’m so weak I can’t even compete with an Earth pony girl.”

She winced at his tone. That hurt pride cut deep. “You know, Earth ponies are usually pretty strong compared to Unicorns. And even in my own league, I’m actually pretty strong for a girl, plus technically you were exhausted already when we did that game. And even if I can beat you now, you’ll grow up eventually, and grow strong. Plenty of Earth ponies would love to have a Unicorn around to help out.”

“With magic, sure,” he snapped. “Can’t do anything the Earth pony way, because I’m not an Earth pony.”

Saw that one comin’ a mile away, still couldn’t dodge it. Okay, Apple Bloom, you got this. Just remember Scootaloo when she was down. “No, you’re not, and nothing you do is gonna change that, and that’s not a bad thing. You are who you are, and you can still be a great grafter or gardener or growth wizard or whatever. You don’t have to throw your life into one thing right now, into any one thing. You don’t have to be what somepony else thinks you ought to be. And… I am so sorry if I made you think otherwise. That’s not the kind of pony I am, or the pony I want to be. I shouldn’t have told you to stick to wizardly things, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why not? You’re right: it’s the only thing I’m good at, it’s all I can do.” He closed his eyes, ears aquiver. “And that’s all that matters. All anyone wants is what you can do for them. You’re only worth what someone’s willing to pay to have you. All I can do is magic, ponies do it all the time. And magic like mine belongs in Canterlot. Colts like me belong in the Royal Guard.”

“Look, I’m trying to apologise here.”

He looked her in the eyes. Even without him using magic, she could feel the anger radiating from him, a cold anger of defeat. “You did, and I accept your apology. But that doesn’t change the facts: my talent is magic. You told me to be a wizard before you knew all that other stuff.”

“No, I said you should do more wizardly things. There’s a big difference between something you are and something you do.”

He rolled his eyes. “Tomater, tomato. Call it what you want, that was your first instinct. You can’t seriously tell me you didn’t have any ideas about what I should do just because I’m a Unicorn.”

“Maybe. But that’s only because it’s worked on every other Unicorn I’ve ever had to deal with,” she argued. “If you were an Earth pony doing all this with potions, I’d have told you the same thing. If you were a Pegasus doing this with, I don’t know, cloud magic, I’d have told you the same thing. I’ve got a dragon friend who’s had problems finding where he belonged, I’d have told him the same thing. You being a Unicorn is just a coincidence.”

“So it doesn’t matter to you? At all?”

Apple Bloom looked away. I’ve gotta be honest here. He’ll know if I don’t. “I’m not gonna lie, it does matter a little, but not the way you might think. To tell you the whole truth, my family’s got a bad history with Unicorns using magic to cut corners. These two brothers tried to scam us, they roped us into some shady things, it got ugly. I don’t want to think about that, but I can’t forget it, either.”

His shoulders drooped. “Oh, right. Of course.” He nodded in resignation. “Flim and Flam, huh?”

“Yup. You know them?”

“Sure. He’s my dad.”

Apple Bloom felt light-headed hearing that.  

Poppy’s divorced. His dad couldn’t afford to keep him. And his dad is...

"All anyone wants is what you can do for them. You’re only worth what someone’s willing to pay to have you.” 

That’s where that came from? Oh, this is just gettin’ worse and worse.

So he’s Flim’s son, or Flam’s. Guess that explains the resemblance, too. Did Grand Pear mention that? No. Did anypony else? No. Unless I really haven’t been paying attention. “W-which one? Flim or Flam?”

He gulped and sniffled, the fight seemed to drain out of him like a deflating balloon. “I don’t know. I was too young to remember him ever being there, they’re always together anyways, and nopony’ll tell me. But everypony tells me I look like him, and that’s obviously not a good thing, no matter which one it is. I know I don’t want to turn out like him, but… look around. I’m already trying to scam ponies with a machine that runs on my magic, and that’s my first instinct.”

Runs in the family. Right, of course. She went to sit next to him, close enough for their cutie marks to touch. “You’re not running a scam, though. You’re trying hard.”

“How would you know?”

“Well, for one thing: you’re a smart pony, like me. If you really wanted to, you could have cut corners on everything. You could make the fruits smaller, make the portions smaller to make it look more expensive, raise your prices through the roof and make up some story about how special it all is. But you didn’t. You do it all in plain sight, and at full power, so everypony can see how good you are.”

“Full power with a machine and magic, and fancy words to hide it. Same as my dad, just not as refined.”

“So, what, you’re gonna avoid ending up like him by going to Canterlot and being miserable?” she argued. “Just like that? Prep camp here, then boot camp, then Royal Academy? Non-stop wizard of the Royal Guard stuff? Even normal ponies who want to sign up don’t do it when they’re our age.”

“What’s stopping me?” He asked. “Nopony wants me, and I can’t make anyone want me if I can’t figure out what my talent is. I’ve done everything I could think of involving beans, I’ve tried farming and growing trees when that didn’t work. I’ve gone over the list, and it all just feels hollow. I don’t know who I am, or what I’m supposed to be. Why shouldn’t I let my mom decide? Nothing I decide is ever going to be right. At least I can get into Princess Celestia’s school.”

Yeah, and that’s turned out so well for so many ponies. Apple Bloom scooted away a little to look at his cutie mark again, comparing it to hers. That nagging thought she had finally congealed into a properly worded remark. I’ve got a shield for a cutie mark, too, but nopony expects me to be a Royal Guard. Then again, there’s an apple there, too. Technically, you could say my cutie mark is an apple, or a heart, or a shield.

Of course.

“Are you sure your cutie mark is a bean?”

“Of course it is, it’s right there.” He pointed to it. “It’s got a leaf and everything.”

She ran her hoof in a circle gesture at it, then around the coiling vine of the plant. “No, I mean, how do you know your cutie mark is about the plant, and not the stick?”

“Huh?”

“Think about it. You’ve got growth magic, which makes weak plants grow, same as how a bean vine needs a pole to grow around. Maybe you’re overthinking it and your talent really is just that: growth magic. And like I said, there’s unicorn grafters, you know.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been trying to tell you, I’ve done that, too, but...”

“But what?”

His jaw clenched in anger. “It’s still not good enough.”

“Are you sure? Because you don’t sound sure.”

“Yes, I’m sure I feel bad and hollow about it,” he hissed.  

“Okay, but that bad feeling might not be you. That might be your mom talking it into you.”

“How would you know?”

“How would you?” she retorted. “Are you really saying it feels hollow because you think it feels hollow, or because you keep thinking about some pony who tells you it is?”

He closed his eyes again and sighed. “It’s not just some pony, Apple Bloom. It’s my mom, and her friends. And it’s my teachers, and the EEA. It’s even newspapers. Everyone says the same thing: a powerful colt like me should be a wizard in the Royal Guard. Are they all wrong?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She gestured with a hoof, as if holding a book in front of him. “Look at how many times our history books have needed changing the past couple of years. I remember having to learn the history of the Crystal Empire two weeks after it came back. We knew more about Crystal ponies than the Crystal ponies did by then.”

“That’s different,” he argued.

“Is it? They were still wrong then, and they can be wrong now. There’s no war going on, String Bean, there’s no draft, there’s no duty except the one you decide to carry. There’s no reason for you to be a Royal Guard if you don’t want to. And take it from a gal with pioneers in her ancestry: you’re probably gonna become a lot stronger as a civilian militia member than a soldier anyway. I mean, heck, with your kinda talent, if you develop that right, you could probably turn any forest or orchard into death trap in case we get invaded. We got Plunder Seeds once and I hear those things mopped the floor with the Royal Guard in Canterlot. You wouldn’t even need to do that much if you can just aim the darn things.”

“Not helping.”

She cleared her throat before she got too carried away. “What I mean to say is, you’ve got better options. Your talent is obviously growth magic, and you’re not gonna get to learn more of that if you go down this path. You know you’d basically be cheating to get into Princess Celestia’s school, and failing every step of the way beyond that. You must have figured out that much by now. Unless you’ve got other magic talents you haven’t shared yet.”

“It’s crossed my mind, sure.” His ears flicked and twitched in an annoyed concession. “I don’t have any special magic besides this. I’m not even that good at lifting yet, to be honest.”

“Thought so. If you’re so dead set on doing something ponies want or what they’ll pay you for, do this.” She gestured to his pots. “I only found out today it’s getting rare, and I’d hate to see it disappear altogether.”

“Says you. You’re only one pony. Try telling that to the two dozen schools for magic in Canterlot. Try telling that to Princess Celestia herself.”

“Well, I…” She tried to think. Nothing came. Her ears drooped, and she had to nod in defeat. “I guess you got me there, I can’t compete with her. I mean, I could try sending a letter, mind you, but point taken. Still, for what it’s worth, you looked like you were having fun when you were showing off your magic to me. You looked happy, genuinely happy, and confident. And I was impressed, honest, but it’s not something I know, so I didn’t realise how much of a bigshot you were.”

“I’m not.”

“Your talent is so rare and so hard to develop as a skill, it’s literally something Princess Celestia uses for an entrance exam, you know that. If you wanna act like I’m some bigshot because of my family, I’m gonna return the favour because of your magic. Just because all anypony sees is a fine result doesn’t mean it’s easy to get at, even if you make it look easy. I’ve seen painters, sculptors, even dancers make their stuff look easy, but it’s not. It takes effort to get that good, and you deserve to be proud of it. You should try it again sometime, without thinking about your mom, about anything. Get even better at it, really make it special. Try to graft something, weave some branches together, make a lemon and lime tree on one stump. Or try whicker, grow a basket on the plant. That’d be really cool to see.”

He snickered at the prospect, and she knew she’d hit home.  

Then his body shook, his teeth ground together with a sickening noise, and he snorted. At the back of her mind, Apple Bloom thought he looked like he was fighting some kind of control, like in faerie tales. “Nice try, but you don’t know my mom.” He turned to pick up some of the flyers. “It doesn’t matter what I do. She’s already decided what my talent is, like she decides it for everypony else. Just leave me alone, please. You did what you were supposed to do. I know what I need to do now, and you can’t talk me out of it or argue me out of it or… whatever it is you were planning.”

Apple Bloom stomped a hoof on the ground.  

Darn it, how am I supposed to get through to him? I’m so close, if I can just get him to try this magic one more time… but how?

She took a deep breath in and thought.  

What would Scootaloo do? No, can’t do that, I left my trebuchet at home. What would Sweetie Belle do? I can’t try sweet-talking him now: he’s already mad at me, and sad. But who wouldn’t be, if his mom’s anything like-

She stopped that train of thought, and smirked to herself.

What would Diamond Tiara do?

“How about a bribe, then?”

He stopped. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. How about a bribe? Your dad’s a scam artist, and your mom’s a politician. If you’ve really got that kinda blood runnin’ through your veins, you know you can’t say no to a little extra pocket money. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you bringing home a good paycheck already.”

He growled. “Maybe. What did you have in mind?”

“Ponyville, Summer Harvest Parade. You bring your juicer, and any little plants you want. You’ve still got a few months to graft together some little trees to sell as souvenirs, or some plants for the tourist ponies to take home. You wouldn’t need to waste seeds if you had some product made in advance.”

His ears flicked up and down in a wavy motion, his curiosity piqued. “I’m listening.”

“Me and my family can get you a good spot for a stand, and some apples to mix in, juice apples with low sugar, just to dilute the stuff, so you wouldn’t need to waste your magic growing oranges for the volume. You’d have to negotiate with my granny about the prices, but you’d be able to show off your talent, your way, and keep any of the profits. She’ll probably shave off a few bits from the prices if you agree to help with the floats for the parade.”

“Sure. And then I can get chewed out about using magic and machines by the whole Apple family this time, no thanks.”

She rolled her eyes. “No one’s gonna chew you out over using magic. My big brother’s dating a Unicorn, actually, so nopony’s gonna dare badmouth you for your magic even if they wanted to. As for your machine, if I could make one tiny little suggestion?”

He groaned. “I knew it. What?”

“Put up a drive-wheel on the side so you can power it by galloping. That way, you can sell it to an Earth pony, too, broaden your market.”

He looked to the contraption next to him.

“I mean, if you are gonna join the Royal Guard anyway, you’ll want to sell this machine eventually, too, right? Even if you don’t, more bits is always a good thing. Plus, it’ll give other ponies a chance to take off some pressure.” She reached up to rub his forehead. “You don’t want to burn your horn out, String Bean. It’d be a shame to waste.”

String Bean blushed when he was touched, but grumbled once it stopped. “This isn’t really a bribe, is it? It’s just a trick to get me to graft more stuff.”

She flashed him a sheepish smile. “Depends. Is it working?”

He huffed and pouted, but eventually he relented. “I guess I might possibly, maybe… agree to those terms, and I may potentially have an idea of two.”

“I’ll sweeten the deal some more for ya: books. Princess Twilight’s got a personal library, and one in her school. She has material straight from Celestia, old stuff, maybe even a few books about what you wanna do. You know, from back when it wasn’t that rare. I know a pony who can make copies for ya.”

“That would be nice. I’ve never had the chance to look into that kind of thing.” He mulled it over, eyes firmly pointed at the ground until his thoughts hit a snag. “But what do I tell my mom?”

“Tell her the truth: you need more time to think.”

“That’s not gonna be good enough. She can send me to prep camp even if I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, right. How about you tell her you’ll be trying to make some connections?” Apple Bloom suggested.  

He glared at her. “She’s in the EEA. They’re not exactly chummy with Princess Twilight.”

It didn’t take Apple Bloom long to think of the next best thing. “But they respect the Wonderbolts, don’t they? There’s two in Ponyville.”

The colt raised an eyebrow at that. “You can hook me up with two Wonderbolts?”

“Probably not.” She grinned. “But you can tell her I can, and I’ve got enough clout to make her think I can. Or you can claim to be looking into old battle strategy books to get the upper hoof on any future competitors at the academy. Think she’d fall for a line like that?”

“Knowing my mom? Hook, line, and sinker.”

“That’s that, then.” She raised a hoof towards him. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?”

He sighed and reached up to shake her hoof. “Deal. And I’ll give you my address so you can stay in touch in case anything changes, I’ll send a letter to Princess Twilight if anything changes on my end. But this isn’t over yet.” He jotted down some notes on a piece of paper and gave it to Apple Bloom.  

She made sure she read the note carefully and committed it to memory before slipping it into her bow, just in case. “Good thinking. And I know, you’ve still got a lot on your plate. But I look forward to seeing you do what you wanna do anyway, and I’m sure my friends will love to see you in action, too.”





Apple Bloom trotted over to Grand Pear just as he was talking a Bat pony. A Bat pony who was mostly a very dark brown, except for his right hind hoof, which appeared to be a bright silver grey.  

“I think I fixed it,” she said. “Not right away, but I know how to get it right for next time. And I told him he might find some books on grafting in Princess Twilight’s library in the meantime. Probably gonna wanna make some reservations when I get back, in case Twilight decides to reorganise again. It’s been two weeks already, after all, she’s way overdue.”

Grand Pear chuckled. “Good thinking, Apple Bloom. Bribing the boy into sticking with his talent, that’s exactly the kind of shenanigans your mother used to pull. Your grandmother, too, although she would have waited for Poppy to show up and make a public scene of it.” He shuddered. “Poor governor never stood a chance.”

“Heheh. Wait, you heard all that?” She looked back as they started on their way. Grand Pear and his friend must have been standing at least twenty paces away.

“No, I didn’t. But you’d be surprised what you learn when you have friends with big, pointy ears.”

The Bat pony. Of course.

“You must be Mister Sock,” she said to his bat-winged companion. “Another one of my grandpa’s friends?”

“I see logical thinking runs in the family… to some extent,” he replied. His voice had an odd ring to it, more mechanical, somehow, not a lot of emotion but very calm and calculated, even in only a hoofful of words, yet strangely warm on top of it.

“Well, if I ever find a Bat pony with a cutie mark problem, I’ll have to remember that eavesdropping thing. So, umm, about that other question?”

“Shall I leave you two?” Silver Sock asked.  

Grand Pear shook his head. “No, Sock, you don’t need to leave, I’m not gonna say anything you haven’t heard already. What exactly did you hear, Apple Bloom?”

“Umm, Miss Poppyhock mentioned your heart, and the lady at the Quartz Quince stand said something about your ticker winding down?”

Mister Sock grumbled. “That is nothing to worry about, little one. Ponies of their ilk let their emotions get the better of themselves. The facts are much less dramatic.”

Grand Pear nodded. “He’s right. It’s not winding down, Apple Bloom. I had a little fright when I was here last year. My own fault, too. Got a little too excited, let some ponies get under my skin over some silly words. I got a little faint, and I had to sit down and take it easy for a while. That’s all.”

“As I have warned you on several occasions, Grand Pear,” Silver Sock chided with all the emotion of a block of obsidian. “You never did take up my offer for that spa visit.”

“Pardon me if my first idea to calm a heart is not to go bathing near a volcano.”

Apple Bloom stifled a pout. “So, you’re not...”

“I’m not laying my head down for a good long while, youngin’. The doctors say I’m fine, and again, I have friends with good ears.” Grand Pear tapped his chest. “If this thing starts missing beats, they’ll know before I do. It was a fright, nothing more. But it did bring a few things into perspective.”

“Your grandfather has many virtues, Apple Bloom,” Sock said. “However, his irrational pride is a mixed blessing at best. He wanted you to see some of the world around him. Given the obvious influence of your maternal line, he felt the experience would be more efficiently spent on you rather than your siblings.”

While it sounded Equestrian, Apple Bloom didn’t quite catch the Bat pony’s meaning. “Huh?”

“You wanted to know why I brought you here,” Grand Pear started. “Well, here’s the long story: I wanted you to get to know the ponies around me, so you’d have an idea of how big the world really is, and what kind of ponies, and other interesting creatures, are in it. And I wanted to see how you’d behave somewhere new. Us Pears, you see, we’re not pioneers, exactly, we have more of an explorer’s blood. Apples were always looking to set up shop, to settle down and make a new home. The Pears travelled more, traded more. We’d have our homebase to fall back on, but wanderlust creeps up on us every now and then. That need to go where you’ve not gone before, that can be a dangerous thing, almost as dangerous as pride.”

She looked away, embarrassed. “Right. And I’ve got more of a Pear in me than an Apple. Guess today kinda proves that, huh? How’d I do?”

“You have a boldness in your gait and curiosity in your eyes,” Grand Pear said, ruffling her mane. “Which is more than I’d ever hoped for. And I’d love to see it some more.”

She walked closer to him, to rub her head against his neck. “Well, good, because the feelin’s mutual. Next time you’re in Ponyville, I’ll introduce you to my friends. There’s a Unicorn fashion expert, a Pegasus athlete, and I’ve got tonnes of connections, lots of interesting ponies I helped out with their cutie mark problems. Oh, that reminds me: you know I’ve got my own little enterprise going with my friends, solving cutie mark problems, right? You’ve got to see it sometime.”

Grand Pear laughed. “I had heard, but I wasn’t aware it was, err, an enterprise. But it sounds delightful, nothing makes me smile quite like seeing a good, working enterprise. I’ll be sure to pop by.”

“Are you not omitting something, Captain Cork?” Sock asked. “The other reason you brought your granddaughter along?”

“Again with the Cork thing. Where’d that come from?” Apple Bloom nudged her grandfather playfully.

Grand Pear rolled his eyes. “From some boat rides around here, like I told you, and some very unfortunate happenstances involving Parasprites and a tornado. But what are you on about, Sock? I’ve already explained myself.”

“Hrm. A simple practical matter you’ve neglected to tell her, and frankly I find it scandalous that you’d keep her from knowing.”

Apple Bloom froze. “Grandpa, what’s he talking about?”

“You’re getting old, Grand Pear, and yet you’ve made stops all over, I heard.”

“Oh, right.” Grand Pear cricked his neck. “All those orders.”

“Noblesse oblige,” Sock said. “I am quite comfortable in my status: I have sired enough pack mules. You, however...”

Apple Bloom caught the hint. “Right. Don’t worry, I’ve got a strong back from both sides of the family, I’ll help you carry all the bags. Including all the ones I saddled ya with behind your back. You don’t mind if I put a little ginger ale on your tab, do ya?”

The old stallion let out a hearty laugh and pulled her closer for a quick hug, not even breaking his pace. “That’s my girl.”

The End.