Wooden wheels rolled along the tightly packed and clean cobble stones of the town square. Axles squeaked gently in the still pre-morning air. The wagon trundled steadily and stealth-fully past sleepy homes and empty produce stands.
Proudly taking her spot in the town square the mare took a moment to rest in her harness. Her blue coat gently steaming in the cool morning air, shinning with sweat it showed off the muscular form beneath it.
“You can't do this...”
Her ear perked.
“...but he left it to me...”
Swivelling the ear sought out the source.
“...just no proof of that.”
“Please! The store is all I have.”
“I'm sorry but you're going to have to be out by the end of the month. The property has already been sold.”
There was sobbing.
“End of the month, Ma'am.”
The gentle keening sound of the other mare dragged across the nerves of the blue mare.
With a sigh the travelling mare shed her tack and trotted over to the wet eyed and oddly attractive looking filly that was gazing sadly at a humble looking bookshop. She had a book cutie mark and was wearing a pair of glasses.
With a flick of her tail and a smirk the travelling mare decided she was definitely going to cheer up this little bookseller.
With a pop a freshly conjured bouquet of lovely and succulent looking roses appeared before the desolate little bookworm.
“You, my dear, look like you're in need of The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
Trixie had to admit, she looked very dashing reflected in those big liquid brown eyes.
“I'm Octovo, Octovo Obsolescent. I... um...”
“Aren't you about to invite Trixie inside?”
“uh...” Trixie could only guess what was happening inside of the little tan mares mind as she ran her eyes over Trixie's body and guess she did. “I guess I could use some company... over tea I mean. Yes, come inside. I'll go put on a kettle. It'll do me some good to talk to somepony. Yes.”
So prompted the two headed into the little store. It wasn't especially well lit and the books shoved every which way onto the shelves had a dusty and slightly aged appearance. It was small but the shear volume of words per square hoof was staggering to imagine. Past the stacks the two moved into a cozy backroom with a much smaller amount of books but also a table and two cushions.
“Wait here and I'll go get the tea,” Octovo skillfully side stepped a friendly nip Trixie had aimed at her neck.
Temporarily thwarted Trixie took a moment to examine the texts in the room. Clearly part of Octovo's personal reading material. It was mostly fiction, romance and adventure novels, but standing out from the rest was a book on inheretence law and a book on magical theory titled Radiance by one Shinning Dawn.
After a quick study of the book Trixie scoffed that anypony could really devote some two thousand pages to writing variations on such a basic spell that was so common it was usable by almost anypony with a horn.
The meek little bibliophile had returned with a tea set arranged on a tray. She settled down on one of the cushions at the table and offered the other to Trixie. Trixie settled down next to her on the same cushion while the tea was poured. A slight errant splash was all the evidence of Octovo's surprise at the invasion of her personal space.
“I was taken in by my uncle as a child. He owned and ran the bookstore. I got my cutie mark helping out in the store. I love reading old books and helping them find new homes.
“But he died last spring and ever since my cousin, Lumin, his son has been trying to kick me out of the store. But my Uncle left it to me. Even gave me a receipt. But I can't find the letter.
“He doesn't even want to keep the store open. It would break my heart to see it boarded up.”
“Yes, tell Trixie all about it...”
“You know you're nibbling on my ear right?”
“Trixie has noticed...” Trixie murmured around a mouthful of succulent bookworm ear.
“I know you're just trying to help me relax, and I do appreciate it, but I can't just can't get my mind off the fact that I'm about to loose everything I've ever worked for just because I can't find a letter. I'm sorry but it's really bothering me.” Octovo sighed despairingly.
The Great and Powerful Trixie thoughtfully chewed the ear.
“Do you have anything else in his writing?”
“What for?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie is a once in a decade prodigy of the magical arts and has access to all manner of powers. It would be as nothing for her to create a spell to find this letter.”
“Really! You can do that?”
“It would be no trouble at all. Just go fetch a piece of his writing.”
“Um, Okay. But you'll have to let go of my ear first.”
* * *
Four hours latter and a thorough search of the premise even with the aid of Trixie's magic failed to reveal the letter in question. She had found old grocery lists, reminders and all manner of document but no letter and receipt that gifted the poor Octovo ownership of her store.
What was worse was that Trixie had found herself unable to tether the little bookseller.
It was nearly noon though and so Trixie decided to console her frustrations over lunch.
“The Great and Powerful Trixie demands service post haste.”
“Right away miss Trixie.”
“Trixie will have the sasparilla with her water while she waits for...” her sharp lavender eyes scanned the tables quickly looking something both tastey and filling. She burned more then enough calories pulling her cart. “The hay stew appears satisfactory. With a double order of bread.”
“At once miss Trixie,” replied the waitress in barely veiled sarcasm.
A moment later, with her drink but without a waitress to terrorize, the show mare was stuck with her thoughts of her frustrating failure to woo the meek little Octovo. As had been happening more and more of late her magical prowess had failed to get her what she deserved.
It wasn't as bad as that accursed night she had stayed in Ponyville of course.
Standing before the beast, her magic failing to hinder it. Helpless before that much raw strength. Watching that beast in pony shape show everypony what power was.
Show everypony what Trixie was not.
Trixie knew though that there was more to her then her magic. She had her charm. Her charisma her ability to grasp the mind of the feeble crowd.
But Octovo did not truely need that letter, did she? She just needed her little bookstore and there was more then one way to arrange that.
“You're stew, miss Trixie.”
“Hold a moment, what can you tell Trixie about Octovo Obsolescent, her cousin and that bookstore?”
* * *
