Return to fake roots

After that afternoon when Scootaloo figured out that I wasn't a real foal, but made the wrong assumptions, and when Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom foalsat me competently, and saw that their destiny wasn't foalsitting, time started to flow normally for me again.  I had a usual routine: awakening, breakfast, miscellaneous activities, lunch, nap, miscellaneous activities, bath, dinner, sleep. It was a very repetitive cycle, but that was fine by me; after all, my routine at home wasn't so different, I just added work in the morning and studying in the afternoon.

Anyway, again, countless days passed in front of me, leaving few or no traces on the subsequent days, like weak winds in the Gobi Desert. The fact that I had lost the sense of time passing started to seem less like a curse, because I didn't have the burden of having to study anymore, and so time lost a lot of its meaning for me. Rather, because of that, forgetting what day it was was useful for the most part, because I had no idea if I had already done something the day before. I just remembered that I had done it somewhere in the time line, but not when I did it.

And so I always tried to pretend I was living the same day over and over, so that I wouldn't grow bored with what I was doing.

I stopped to do this, and actually counted days during a (I think) weekly stroll with Apple Bloom, when I met a  very cocky, intelligent, and refined filly: Silver Spoon. Admittedly, since I discovered that Latin existed in Equestria as the language of the arts, my bets were all on the gray filly with glasses. Until that day, meeting her seemed unlikely at best.

I was so wrong.

It all happened during the afternoon of a clear day near the beginning of summer. The free older ponies were sitting under awnings, drinking and talking with others, or walking around; the couples were sitting on benches, talking and displaying affection for each other; and  parents were watching carefully their children as they roamed around the small town park, or pushing around strollers with babies, alternately crying and sleeping.

Guess which category I was in at the moment.

Anyway, while I was looking around me from my uncomfortable position, I watched the ponies around me, trying to see if I could recognize any of them, but I could not. All the faces present in that park were unfamiliar to me.

That was, until I saw a gray shape with a mane faintly colored blue-gray.  I watched that shape as it was coming near me, until it finally revealed itself: the shape was Silver Spoon.

Since she was the only familiar face in the horde of unknown ponies going around, I greeted her when she passed near my stroller.  “Ave, o dives Cochlear  Argenti ! Quomodo tua vitam geris?”

That greeting was the light at the end of the tunnel.

Silver Spoon was enjoying a walk after the work she had done earlier in the afternoon. She completed her homework in a matter of minutes; she moved all the furniture of her  bedroom in preparation for the arrival of a little order of Basic Theory of Architecture books for future use; and she just had returned some books to the library.  Now Silver Spoon was going around the town, breathing in the fresh air heavy with the smell of grass, something that that the gray filly considered quite magnificent, and, yet, unsettling.  After all, the air that she generally breathed smelled of old paper and the melting of cheap wax.

While Silver Spoon walked, she noticed in front of her a very familiar sight: Apple Bloom, a classmate who was, most of the times, a target of her mocking.  She was pulling a stroller, likely carrying the adopted brother of whom she had talked about for about a week.

Silver Spoon almost expected that the filly with the bow was going to tell her to buck off.

But Silver Spoon was not a filly that oppressed somepony every time she had the opportunity.  On the normal day, she placed the targets of her mocking on notice.  It was her way of saying “Look, you are  inferior to me, and you should respect me. In exchange for your respect, I will help you whenever it's possible, and I will actually respect your relatives, if they deserve it. If you change, lucky you. If you don't want do do it, fine. Just keep in mind that I will tease you.”

Even if it had a very similar effect, she wasn't crude in her mocking. “I superior. You piles of dung. You no deserve respect. So your relatives.”  That would be very, very coarse, and unfair towards the ones that could not change anything and the adults of the families of the targets.

The same thing could not be said for her “friend” Diamond Tiara, who had a more oppressive way of acting towards her targets, and never stopped until her targets broke down, or turned to her side. The second result was the more likely outcome.

When someone tried to defend a pony contemptuously mocked by Silver Spoon, she was the first to stop, and leave the pony alone. Again, the same could not be said for her companion.

Since Silver Spoon did not approve of her friend's behavior, she often asked herself why she took the side of true bully of the class, instead of taking the side of the bullied ponies when she wanted to thelp them. She never gave an answer. She felt that it was destiny to be the lackey of the mean ones.

Since she already reminded Apple Bloom of her place earlier, Silver Spoon at first simply nodded her head towards Apple Bloom, and passed her by.

Until the filly with the glasses heard a squeaky voice coming from the stroller near Apple Bloom. “Ave, o dives Cochlear  Argenti! Quomodo tua vitam geris?” the voice said.

“Ave, o dives Cochlear  Argenti! Quomodo tua vita geris?” ?

“Good morning, rich Silver Spoon! How are you passing your life?”

Silver Spoon stopped dead in her tracks from the surprise. She just heard her name... in Latin! And the only instances where Silver Spoon was called  “Cochlear  Argenti” were by her father when she needed to be punished in some way (not very often; the last time was three weeks before, following the “Babs Incident”), or on bureaucratic documents.  Either way, she wasn't called that very often.

Plus, she received the FULL greeting in Latin, with the “formulaic epithet” typical of epic poetry, something that made it feel old and famous. But those were mere details. The thing that made this situation very weird was the voice, and the source of it: the greeting came from near Apple Bloom! No other ponies were at the same distance between her and the yellow filly, so the greeting had to have come from Apple Bloom. But that could not be, because Apple Bloom neither spoke nor understood Latin! It was impossible that she actually greeted her in a language unknown to her!

Silver Spoon's mind suggested walking away and forgetting everything, but soon afterward her curiosity took over. What was going on? Why she was called like that?

The filly decided to delve deeper, and find who called her by her Latin name.

First, she went to the source. The source seemed to be the stroller Apple Bloom pulled. Even if it seemed impossible, it was the only clue that she had.

The gray filly went near Apple Bloom, bowed her head a bit, and asked, “I know that it seemz weird to iou, but... Appre Broom, did iou carred me with mi Ratin name?”

Apple Bloom sighed in annoyance, rolled her eyes, and said “No, Silver Spoon. It was just my brother greeting you in his language. Don't tell me that you're also offended by this!”

Silver Spoon dropped her jaw in surprise. A foal of few months... speaking Latin... but not knowing Equestrian... in a family of farmers that confused the Tongue of Arts and Diplomacy with baby talk? It seemed impossible, and yet it happened. she witnessed a foal capable of speaking a uncommon language, but not capable of speaking the normal one, a foal raised by ponies who were less likely to know that uncommon language: the Apples, a famous family of farmers.

Apple Bloom, after a long wait, said “Well, if you are going to just stand like a statue, then my work here is done. Goodbye.” She started to go away. Only then did the filly with the glasses exit from her trance.

“Wait a minute! That phraze iz not babi tark! That iz Ratin! He knowz Ratin, but not Equeztrian at zeven monthz of life! And no one in your famiri knowz it! It'z beiond the veri reariti bondz! That zhourd be impozzibre!” she said.

“I remembered a smarter Silver Spoon, one that uses the language of bureaucracy to insult others, not a silly filly that believes the undecipherable blabbering of a foal is an actual language,” Apple Bloom said.

Then Venicio peeked his head out and said, “Litigare desinate, o puellae!” ("Stop arguing, girls !")

Silver Spoon pointed to Venicio. “Zee? He iuzt zaid that we zhourd quit arguing! IN RATIN!” she affirmed.

“Quit doing this ! I'm not dumber than my younger brother, if that's what you're trying to say!” Apple Bloom screamed to Silver Spoon:

What a horrible scene to witness. Silver Spoon, the pony that fully understood what I was saying, was arguing with Apple Bloom, who mistook the genuine surprise of the gray filly as an attempt to insult her about her origins and call her illiterate.  If she had taken the time to consider the situation, it would have been clear that Silver Spoon was speaking the truth

I really wanted to say something to stop Apple Bloom, and make her understand that Silver Spoon was right, but I could not. My only language was Latin, and only Silver Spoon could understand me at that time.

But finally I decided to try. “Malorum Tempus Florum, desina: Cochlear  Argenti sincere admiratione afficitur!” ( " Applebloom, stop: Silver Spoon's surprise is genuine !") I said

Silver Spoon pointed again to me, and said “I am not making up thiz ! And even him knowz that him shourd not know Ratin!”

Apple Bloom looked at me, sighed, and said, “Maybe you are right, maybe not. I can't trust you, and, honestly, I don't know if I really care.”

Oh, no.

This wasn't going to happen.

I was going to lose this chance.

I wished I didn't have to drop the “I am a human” card this early, but I guess this was the moment for it:

“Audite! Parvulus equus sum non: vir sum.” (" Liste to me ! I am not a foal ! I am a man !")

Silver Spoon gasped, looked me with wide eyes, and started to stutter. Then she fell down. Apple Bloom went to her, worried, and asked if she felt okay.

“Iez, I feer good:  I just met a regendary creature ztuck in the body of a foar, and he iz talking in Latin. He juzt zaid that he izn't a foar, but a human, a monzter!” the gray filly answered sarcastically.

“What are you saying, Silver Spoon? Are you drugged or something? Venicio is blabbering nonsense.  Just deal with it!”

It was clear that I had shocked Silver Spoon beyond recognition.  She was frantically talking to Apple Bloom about my true identity, adding nonsensical thing about me, my species, and the like.

Not that I blame her, since I would react like that if I were in her shoes (horseshoes?).  Simply put, Silver Spoon needed to compose herself.

After some time, it was clear that, without my intrusion, Silver Spoon would be considered just mad, and would get ignored by Apple Bloom. And if the filly with the bow was going to ignore the gray filly... then I would lose my possibility of coming back home. That could not happen.

I screamed towards Apple Bloom.  “Haec veritas est, sororem: vir sum.” ("This is the thruth, sister: I am a man)

The filly with the silver mane, its styling ruined and the hairs now coated in mud, commented on my phrase. “He iz not saying nonzense, heiz tarking! Rook, if you don't berive me, now we go to the ribrari, and rook for a ranguage book! I wirr pai iou ten bitz if I am wrong!” Then the filly put her left hoof in front of her.

Apple Bloom's eyes shone with evil pleasure, and she shaked Silver Spoon's hoof, saying “Deal!”

At this sight, I chuckled lightly. I imagined Apple Bloom's reaction, and the reaction of the other members of the Apple family, when they learned the truth of my identity: I wasn't a 7-month old foal, but a 16-year old human.

And so I was carried towards the Golden Oaks Library, where Twilight Sparkle lived.

Silver Spoon was shocked.  She actually saw a foal speaking Latin without anypony teaching him to do so... very, very impressive.

And, according to him, he wasn't a foal either. He claimed to be a legendary creature, stuck by chance in a foal's body. Even if this wasn't true, the foal had a genius way to make a “know-it-all” freak out with a single phrase.

Anyway, now she was going to the Golden Oaks Library to prove that the colt was speaking Latin, and not a made-up language, created by a foal trying to get adults to understand him.

After a rather long walk, the two fillies and the colt arrived at the door of the library. Silver Spoon coughed and opened the door, and moved straight away to the “L” section, while Apple Bloom started her research from “A”: not a wise choice, indeed.

After one hour of research, the two fillies didn't make any progress in their quest to prove wrong, or confirm, that Venicio was speaking Latin, and if he was telling the truth about his origins.

Silver Spoon sighed, and prepared to take ten bits from her piggy bank back home. She hadn't opened it in months, maybe years, and now it was going to be opened to give money to another filly over a lost bet. “It's been so long since I've touched my piggy bank, the bits inside are probably ancient coins, and I should be selling them to a coin collector instead.”

Silver Spoon chuckled lightly at her own joke, and kept looking for a book useful for her purposes.

She looked until she glanced over at two books that she had ignored before. Their names were “Comprehensive Encyclopediae of Legends” and “Ancient Language Identification for Dummies.”

She had discarded both books at first because of their size.  They were barely the size of her saddlebag.  Surely a comprehensive book would be bigger than a saddlebag!

Then the gray filly looked in them, and she felt very stupid for not realizing the obvious.  The books were small because they were written in smaller typefaces than normal.

Then the filly opened the book “Ancient Language Identification for Dummies”, looking for Latin.  It didn't take much to find the part where it was explained how to tell if something was written or spoken in Latin, an approach that would work even if the reader or listener didn't know a word of Latin.  Getting the vocabulary, however, was another story altogether.

Silver Spoon held open the book, the corner of the page she found folded over, and handled it to Apple Bloom, hoping that this would finally prove her point