Diary of an Apothecary

5/11, Canterlot University, 11:13 PM

Well, I certainly do not know what can be gained from this. I suppose, though, by the insistence of my colleague, that this certainly cannot hurt me. If you are wondering, my readers, after the final exams of the Canterlot Medical Examination, or CME's as we called them, they claimed that I was going to be "Equestria's next great Apothecary." I smiled at the absurdity of the thought and reminded them of the severe disadvantage embedded in my coat. It began with my roommate asking of my thoughts on my examination, and how I felt it didn't really seem to matter, given the circumstances. Here was the dialogue we had:

"Aw, c'mon, Xath! You've got more brains in that skull than this whole class!! I bet you're even going to make it to Valedictorian!"

"Again, doubtful. Do you know what some of the University's biggest sponsors would do if they saw me take the stand? Besides Sept, it's simply a title. Why should I be concerned?"

"Because you deserve it, dude! You know you do, and everypony in the class does too!!"

"... Perhaps. However, my good Septic Cleanse, history is won by the victors. I am a simple zebra apothecary. Nopony would know my story."

He paused, looked out the window of his dorm, and stared down at the campus for several long minutes. He turned back to me. "Then write your story down. Make history remember you."

"What do you mean?"

"Keep a journal detailing your adventures so when you become great, everypony will know how you did it!"

"Sep, you know I'm no writer. I can't make some sort of lavish story of my life."

"No, but I do know that you have a knack for remembering the most minute details. If anypony can write the words of history, it can be you."

I thought about it. I remember thinking he did have a point to it. My memory was very structured, and my documents detailing my experiments were often the most complimented part of the reports I had given. After stirring it in my mind for several moments, I finally turned and nodded to Sep.

"Alright, my friend. I'll accept the idea."

We shook hooves.

"However, I doubt anything good may come of this."

He gave me the same coy grin he always gave me when he felt he was right. "Just you wait, Xathan. You're gonna be thanking me soon."

That was five hours ago. My roommate is asleep now, after I told him he needed to rest after the stressful week he had gone through. After some coercion involving some Somnambular Bloom powder in his tea, he can now finally do his job of snoring to break my concentration. But, anyways, if you've managed to read this far in my... ~~Diary~~... ~~Journal~~... ~~Book~~... Personal record of my life, I'll officially begin by telling you about myself and my history.

My name is Xathan Boticar. I am a 23 year old zebra, born in a far off tribe in Zebrica, but officially raised here in Canterlot. I am (hopefully) going to be graduating soon in my study of Equestrian medicine at the MeadowBrook University's School of Medicine. However, my biggest goal is to be accepted into the Celestial-Lunar Research and Development Program, a special educational program in which a select few are given grants used for the purposes of researching new types of medicinal practices and recipes. Of course, there needs to be a screening for that, which is not only done by researchers, but also several influential ponies who, well... Don't seem too keen on letting "outside help" in on their program. Regardless, if you met anypony that knew my history, they would possibly say I had to struggle a lot to get where I am today. It's a long, painful story, but I am planning on cutting most of the fluff to save book space. Let's begin with the day I was found.

I don't remember too much from there. After all, I was just a foal. However, there were some things that I could distinctly remember. I smelt an acidic burning in the air. Smoke that could only be produced the burning of huts and hair. The iron stench of blood that mixed with other scents. I remember seeing very blurry shapes, followed by very bright flashes. That part is especially hazy, but one part I can remember was a flash of sickly green, followed by a descent downward and then a rise. I think I was being rushed away from the scene. However, if there was one thing I could remember clearly, something I could never forget even if I tried...

It was the screaming.

Yes, there was shouting in many directions in a language that today I wouldn't be able to understand, but there was also the bloodcurdling screams coming from all directions. Soon, it all bled together and I was silenced by it, my supposed crying not able to be heard.

Soon, it was very dark. I did not know for how long it was dark, but soon, after a while, there was a bright light, and the rising feeling was back.

As I grew up, I would learn that the darkness followed by light was actually due to me being hidden inside a wooden chest and eventually being found by an Equestrian military scouting group. Apparently, I was the (reportedly) sole survivor of the attack, and was taken back to Equestria, where they had placed me in the Willow Street Orphanage. For the next 7 years of my life, I was simply known as 'Stripes' as I was a zebra, and nopony knew my actual name. Of course, that wasn't the only name I was called. My fellow orphans were especially hostile to me and gave me a plethora of names.

Witch Doctor.

Half-half.

Darkey horse.

Voodoo freak.

And the list goes on.

The only pony that didn't see just my coat and treated me like I was an actual pony was a little filly named Petal Breeze. She was a pegasus, lost her father to a skirmish defending the southern borders, and her mother, a unicorn, committed suicide just after, leaving her there like me. Her hair was long, smooth and matched the colors of when a cherry tree blooms. Her coat was snow white, making her look like a symbol of pure innocence, and constantly she defended me from the bullies and stood by my side. I remember telling her she didn't have to often, and she would simply smile at me and say, "You're my friend. Of course I had to. Friends always help each other, no matter what." For a while, it was just the two of us, learning together, playing together, and watching each other's backs.

However, everything would suddenly change for us once he had entered the picture.

I remember it was a day like any other, everypony was wandering around and playing with each other. Petal and I were outside, playing on the willow tree, when suddenly our caretaker, Ms. Helpinhoof called us inside. We were both curious and a tad nervous, but once we entered, we noticed all the foals standing in a straight horizontal line, facing this rather old looking pony. He was an Earth pony, with whitening grey hair on his head and tail, a sandy colored coat, and a navy blue suit coat and brown dress shirt underneath. He had round glasses on his face, a raggedy mustache, and around his hoof was a black binder of some kind. He took a step forward and spoke these words in a deep yet jolly voice.

"Fillies and colts, I am Professor Anti Biotic. I am here to conduct a little test. Do not worry, it does not hurt. It is simply a little test of memory."

He opened the binder and took out a stack of flash card and handed everypony a single card face down. "You have ten seconds to memorize what is on the other side of that card."

We all looked back up at him, confused.

"Begin!"

Suddenly, everypony flipped their cards over in a panic. I looked at what was on my card, and to this day, I still remember what it was: a purple flower that spread forward like a trumpet ls and a darkening interior. I saw the name. A bunch of letters that made a word that I didn't understand. Before I could sound it out, I heard "Time's up! Turn your cards over!!"

I did almost immediately. I heard him tell a couple of the orphans to take steps back, but I was just staring down at my facedown card. I closed my eyes, trying to remember what the letters were. I panicked, taking fast breaths. I remember thinking 'What were they and was tempted on running out of the room in tears.

Then, I stopped. I took a deep breath and focused. There was an A...

Aco...
Aconi...
Aconitum...
or...
Wolf's B...
Ban...
Bane...

I mouthed the word slowly to myself, hoping that the Equestrian language wasn't lost on me. Suddenly, he was standing in front of me, my card in his hoof. I looked at the line once more. Everypony, even Petal Breeze, had stepped back. I looked up at him with nervous eyes.

"Now..." He said, sounding rather disinterested. "Tell me the name of the flower and what the flower looked like."

I blinked. That was it?, I thought to myself. I was kind of surprised because I thought there would be something different. Then again, I was sometimes a very naive colt. I took a deep breath and spoke these words rather slowly:

"The name of the flower is... Aconi... Tum... Or... Wolf's Bane... It is a purplish flower that looks like the end of a trumpet, and gets darker the closer you look in the inside."

Mr. Anti was surprised, along with all of the other ponies there. Anti looked closer and asked me what I meant by purplish. I told him it looked too dark to be blue but too light to be purple. I thought about the colors of the rainbow until I remembered and shouted, "Indigo! It's indigo!!"

And soon afterwards, Mr. Anti adopted me as his son. I said goodbye to Petal and told her that I would come visit her whenever I can. We shared a hug and I soon got on the carriage with the little belongings I had: a tooth necklace that I had since I was a foal, a couple bits I had found on the streets by sheer luck, and a homemade teddy bear made by Petal from the rags that were around the orphanage. I saw myself clutching the bear promising myself that I would visit Petal as soon as possible.

Little did I know, "soon as possible" was going to mean "In a long time." As soon as I got to my new home, I marveled at the immense collection of liquids, herbs, beakers, and papers that filled the place, leaving it in such a chaotic state, it would make Discord look organized. It was like some mad scientist's dream. However, I only had a few moments to take in the scenery before I was thrust into a room with some books and Mr. Anti told me to read and take notes, and that he'd prepare a meal. I obliged, and for many years I preyed upon book after book. At first, it was simple, the basic reading, writing, and arithmetic that (I assume) most foals had gone through. Then the books became specifically about science.

Then about general chemistry.

Then about herbology.

And then about medicine.

Now, despite what many ponies thought Dr. Anti was like (and what he lacked) as a father, he was actually a very nice stallion. He was nice enough to actually help me pick a name so I didn't have to go by Stripes anymore. I eventually picked 'Xathan Boticar,' names that are abbreviations to certain forms of foreign medicine I was interested in. He was devoted, caring, and was always up for answering any question I had on anything, even current events, which we both found to be rather helpful. Some things I learned not to ask, though, such as his past, his family, and the strange scar on his left-front hoof. Aside from those moments, we were happy.

Eventually, Dr. Anti trusted me enough to let me leave the house, and the first place I ran to was the orphanage. Now, this had been 5 years afterwards, so I had my doubts that she was actually still there. After all, why would anypony turn down such an adorable filly for this long. And of course, after consulting Ms. Helpinhoof, she had been adopted three years after me. I sighed, then asked her where exactly she moved. She told me she couldn't release that information, but then smiled to me and said that since she knows how close I am to her, she'd take a look back. After looking, she pointed me to a rather posh center of the district, and of course, I was met with wavering eyes. I placed a pre-made letter in the address Ms. Helpinhoof provided me, and left, hoping to get a response from her soon.

I never received a letter back.

Eventually, I had moved on, and decided to make my education official at a University. I (of course) was met with hostility, one stallion in particular saying he didn't want to see our medicine become corrupted by my "voodoo garbage", but once shown that I was the prodigy and son of Dr. Anti, they gave me a chance, to which I blew away the competition. I gave them no opportunities for them to kick me out, though a few tried their damnedest. I had soon become popular amongst both much of the staff and students, as I had not only provided help to anypony, but I was also one of the few ponies not trying to use cheat sheets to remember entire recipes. I was given the nickname, "The Witch Doctor of Canterlot," a name which I didn't even oppose.

And, now you're caught up with most of the events of my life. Now, it is getting pretty late. I should probably be getting to bed myself. That is, if I can sleep through Septic's snoring. You know, perhaps this won't be such a bad idea.

Goodnight, everypony.

Praise the Princesses.

-Xathan Boticar