Whitebeard Adventurer’s Guild; When I write the phrase ‘Silly Stallion’, it’s because I made a Winter-Wrap Up Vow to not call them ‘Stupid Stallions’

Dearest Journal,

So, there are a few things that every spellweaver gets good at over time. The first is, simply speaking, lifting immense amounts of weight. Every rug has to be washed, stretched, washed again, and washed- well, as many times as it takes for the dye process used to stop expelling excess in the wash. Or to take in the appropriate amount of dye.

Wet fabric is about, eh, six times it’s dry weight- that doesn’t matter overmuch when it’s something like a cape or a hanky, but a whole unicorn rug, even rolled up for transport- well, dry, it weighs the same as a fully grown unicorn- often the same as the unicorn that wove it.
I can work eight wet rugs at the same time- all of them rugs I wove myself.

Lifting three adult stallions who are fighting each other in a pond- along with quite a bit of pond water- then separating them out, gently letting go of the water without letting go of the stallion, and resisting the urge to shake, twist, or otherwise do any of the things I would normally do with a rug, is a much simpler affair- though I had somehow hoped that I would not have to do such a thing.

It’s only past the first trimere that a mare begins to feel the cravings associated with pregnancy. My mother craved blackstrap molasses, orange-blossom honey, sour cherries, pickled limes, eggshell meal, and barley when she was pregnant with me, my sister Spangle Surprise, and my brothers- my older brother, Spadille Surprise, and my younger brother, Solitaire Surprise. I had my first real craving a while ago- moules marinieres, after all, is not something a unicorn wants to eat unless they’ve grown up in a mixed family.

Right now, I want onion soup. There’s a misconception most ponies have with onion soup- that the flavor comes from the onions alone. The sweetness, the caramelization, the softness as it hits the tongue- that, indeed, comes from onions. The complexity of flavor, however, comes from the stock. Mostly, it comes from mushrooms. Lots of mushrooms are slimy to the touch, soggy, and a bit lonely- all they need is the thick, creamy soup of joy to become tasty.

I completely ignore the audience I’ve gathered, and I carefully set each stallion equidistant apart, well out of my way as I step in the kitchen, and firmly in the air they hang, still scowling and huffing and snorting their insults at each other.

I set to work. To start with, a roasting pan- and in them, I set out full size potbelly mushrooms, along with… well, basically every kind of mushroom they have in this kitchen that is edible and won’t clash with each other terribly… plus all the ones I like. Add in some kombu, walnuts, ripe tomatoes, malted barley, stale bread rinds, stale cheese rinds… Cut everything into small pieces to increase the surface area, which means more browning and more flavor.

Then, cover everything with a healthy dash of soysauce; crush some dried mushrooms I like the taste of into powder, and just- yeah, a nice semi-wet slurry of flavor right there.

One whole head of peeled crushed garlic- just a little, to really amp up that surface area; a small bushel of onions, fine diced; carrots; celery; fennel; leek; season with salt and pepper- then bake it in a medium oven for about an hour.

Once the grilling is done, everything in the pan needs to simmer for a good four hours- or, if you have a pressure cooker, like this kitchen does, two hours. Don’t use a pressure cooker if you don’t know how!

Scrape all the roasted goodness into the pressure cooker, and then add three liters of water in the roasting pan and then into the pot to get all the little stragglers- oh, and add a trussed bundle of herbs, bay leaves and thyme (and rosemary, it felt right), to boost the flavor. Oh, and a little bit of mustard, for some kick. Just a little salt- correct it after the cooking, if you please…

Bring the pressure cooker up to it’s highest setting, then lower it to nearly the lowest and let it go for two hours.

Then, menace the very startled members of the Whitebeard Adventurer’s Guild into giving you, your friend, and your, um, Tristan, some privacy for a private conversation. I do so love my hairpin collection.

So, Journal, apparently none of my Equestrian cousins know how to properly wrangle their manes. This has lead to some alarming misconceptions, the most pertinent of which is that if a Surprise clan member’s mane is sleek and well behaved, they are in dire emotional distress. This is not true.

Firstly, our manes are always extremely curly- Ace is actually semi-constantly either in or on the edge of an emotional disaster, which is why his mane is wavy while also being so short. I haven’t gotten a mane cut in… let me count it properly… goodness, fifteen years. I thought it was less than that, but that was my tail, not my mane.

I have what’s called Heteronomia, a strange magical disorder where my mane and my tail have completely different curl patterns due to damage to my ley lines before I was born. My mane is as curly as any other member of the Surprise clan; my tail is pin straight, and always has been. I actually carry a picture of me as a foal; new schools, new teachers, and government officials always need more than just my word that yes, my mane and tail are supposed to be like that, really. As for how my ley lines were hurt… Aunt Zipper says my mother was in a very bad accident, and it broke something in her mind; she was sane just long enough to give me the first of her milk, and then she tried to hurt herself very badly, and had to go live in the hospital. I visited her twice a week, every week- right up until she died of heartache, the medical term for what happens when a pony physically, mentally, or emotionally can’t fulfill their special talent.

My mother, Pineapple Surprise, during her moments of clarity, taught me how to care for my mane properly, gave me recipes to bake, taught me songs she would have sung to me as a filly… all sorts of things. Her cutie mark was a boomerang; and the only reason I know how she got it was because, after her death, my Aunt Zipper (Zipper Ripstop, nee Surprise) was finally free to tell me.

As far as I could make out, through my Aunt’s garbled telling (she was so sad, after my mother died), Mother got her cutie mark by creating an entirely new form of logical progression. Circular reasoning is when you begin with where you should have ended, and work around until you come back to your initial conclusion, ignoring everything that doesn’t fit. Mother’s new form of logic is called Spiraluar Reasoning- whereby you come to a new conclusion by starting with a conclusion you want.

It’s actually very useful for bringing disparate pieces of research together, or understanding trends in history. Mother’s in the books as the philosopher who invented this particular method of research. She’s also in the books as the philosopher who went mad after tampering with forces far beyond her control- while heavily pregnant with me. So far as I could ever figure, from reading her confiscated notes, looking over her experiment logs, and the injuries she got immediately after that final, disastrous experiment, Mother was trying to predict Chaos.

Journal, I don’t know what she was thinking, or why that was her answer to whatever was plaguing her- but I do know that her experiment broke her mind. It was that break that made her heartache so profound; and it’s not like my cousin Pinkie’s bipolar disorder either, that’s managed with diet and magi-medication…

I don’t know, Journal. I suppose, for the sake of simplicity, it’s easiest to say it plain- I am always of two minds about everything, everything there ever is. Part of me wishes to react with spontaneity; and part of me wishes to react with routine. For most ponies, that’s normal; for a Surprise, it’s always one, or the other.

But not me.

Ace didn’t know any of that; Tristan did; and Mark is mortified to learn it, mostly because it’s a Seapony thing to not know so many intimate details about another pony without being intimately involved with them.

Ace also didn’t know that the length of a Surprise mane dictates so much of it’s curl- the sheer weight of the hair stretches the curl out, and I haven’t had a serious mane cut in fifteen years, and I actually sleep with curlers in my tail- yes, really. Tristan posits that I’d be adorable no matter what my mane and tail looked like- I rebut with the simple fact that I absolutely hate being stared at like an exhibit at the science museum, and, inevitably, that’s what happens when I have a shortcut mane and tail.

‘You’d still be cute, though,’
‘...hmph.’

To finish the broth, vent the steam from the pressure cooker- either using your magic, or wearing heat-safe mitts- before sieving the broth of all the solid pieces, first through a fine metal mesh strainer, then again through a fine cheesecloth.

Then you need to set aside the broth, and prepare the onions. How much diced onion do you need? It’s like making creamed spinach- if you look at it and think to yourself, ‘fuck, that’s way too much’, you’ve got just about enough for a small group. As for actual amount… eh, five or six kilos should do it. Using the same pot I made the broth in, I caramelized the onions, right until translucence and a bit of browning; sprinkled in a bit of salt to get even more moisture out, and then pressure cooked on low for twenty to thirty minutes. Once it’s done, maybe a little sugar and baking soda- like, a teaspoon each- to speed up the caramelization. Stir and cook until it looks deep brown, like a particularly chunky-onion caramel- like the candy, that’s why it’s called caramelization. Then, deglaze the pan with white wine and brandy- one for brightness, the other for deep, intense flavor. Four spice mix (pepper, cloves, nutmeg, ginger), and they only have fresh of each so use much less, fresh spices are strong. A pinch of flour to thicken it- any would work, I’m partial to rice; and then, add the stock.

Pressure cook it for fifteen to thirty minutes.

To finish- dish it out in a large ramekin, top with slices of a nice baguette, and then cover the bread with grated cheese- any good melt-n-crisper will do, but I’m using white cheddar because there’s lots of it. Put it in the oven- any temperature is fine, so long as it’s not cold- until it’s nicely charred.

While that’s going, set out bowls and spoons for the guys and myself, because I can’t actually eat all the soup I just made- oh, yes, and actually set them down, Ace is turning a bit pasty, whoops…

Serve with a careful admonishment to not eat too quickly, you’ll burn your tongue.

The tables in this part of the kitchen are metal, and polished to a mirror finish- and I find I have some sort of internal distortion of time, looking into the metal mirror, reflecting back my own face and the darkness of the ceiling above me… because, well, when I look at myself in the mirror below me, what I see is my own breath misting across the surface, and then... my mother's face, staring back at me. I see my mother’s face, reflected back at me; a strange, young, bright version of her, unmarred by life’s pains and disappointments.

And then, as the heat of the soup in my bowl presses against my frog, the vision ends. I see myself again, my worries and my concerns writ plain on my narrow nosed face, my brow furrowed with rapidly fading anger. Ace only acted out of love; I cannot fault him for that.

I'll write again later, Journal. I've got a long conversation ahead of me, and I don't want to be distracted.

Best Love,
Meadow

Whitebeard Adventurer's Guild; No Wonder Ace Has Anxiety
Dearest Journal,

I have to write this down before I forget the phrasing. I'll explain the circumstances after I've recorded the scene I just witnessed.

ACE
D'you know what Accounting is about? The motto of the Second Division is 'No mistakes, down to the last bit.' Do you know why that is, Maple Sweet? Keeping an accurate record of how much comes in, and how much gets spent- that's what accounting is. That is our job. Ponies who half-hoof their numbers never do it once: the mistakes pile up, and it hurts the company, and it hurts the company’s ponies. How long are you going to keep half-hoofing your own numbers, Maple? If you keep giving out more than you’re getting back in return, eventually, there’ll be nothing left. D’you get it?

MAPLE SWEET
...I think so. Y-you’re much kinder than anyone realizes, a-aren’t you?

ACE
Hmph. Think what you want.

MAPLE SWEET
...Commander! I want to help too!

ACE
Is that right? Good! We’re stronger together than we are apart- that’s why we’re here!

MAPLE SWEET
Right!

I think I wrote before that Ace is the Commander of the Second Division of the Whitebeard Mercenaries; this means, in any other company, he'd be Director Ace, of Accounting. His job is important- his underlings are important. If his division doesn't do their job correctly, ponies won't be able to get paid for their work, or get their share of spoils.

Which reminds me!

The Guild Charter must list the internal structure of the guild. Whitebeard's guild structure is as follows- First, Administrative; Second, Accounting; Third, Quartermaster; Fourth, Rations; Fifth, Guards; Sixth, Masons; Seventh, Animal Care; Eighth, Aquatics; Ninth... I honestly stopped listening at this point, Ace is a little... hero-worshippy of the Whitebeard Mercenaries. I've decided to refer to them as a Mercenary Company, for the sake of my own sanity. I do so despise being of two minds about anything- it feels... wrong.

Ah, there's the thread.

Sixth, the charter must list the internal structure of the guild. Most guilds are broken down into guildmaster, guild officers, journeymen, and apprentices. However, there is much room for creativity here, and in fact a great deal of guilds are broken down simply into guildmaster and guild members. The decision as to what structure to use must is best made by each individual guild.

Seventh, the charter must include a process for amendment of the charter. Typically, this process involves a majority vote of the members of the guild, but some guilds do it differently. In some guilds, the guildmaster can unilaterally modify the guild charter. If a charter is modified after it has been approved, the modification should be brought to the attention of the Duke or legal scribe for re-approval.

The eighth thing that should be attached to the charter is a list of the charter members of the guild. In other words, the original people who are bringing the guild into being should be listed here.

After all that has been completed, the guild charter is finished, and needs to be ratified and approved. Ratification requires that the guild charter be submitted to a vote of the guild members. If they ratify the charter, then the charter must be taken to the local nobility. For example, if I was trying to get a guild started in the town of Exeter in Therendry, I would have to take my guild charter to the Lord of Exeter in order to have him approve it. Once that is done, the last step that needs to be taken is the charter needs to be submitted to the Duke or legal scribe for approval. Once it has the Diarchy seal of approval, the charter is an official document and the guild is an official guild.

It is recommended that several copies of the guild charter be scribed, so that the local nobility can keep one on file, the Diarchy can keep one on file, and the guild itself can have one on file. They're very important to maintain the internal coherency of a guild- through history, I mean. However you decide to design your guild, if you do- and I do, my Guild has no chapter in Equestria... It needs to have the following things.

A charter, which is essentially a list of rules or values outlining the guild's purpose and mission.

However you decide to design a guild, make sure it contains at least the following:

• A charter
• An emblem or sigil, like the one for the Whitebeard Mercenaries, that represents the guild and what it stands for. It's like a brand, honestly.
• A list of requirements for admission or initiation.

Less essential are the following:

• A guildhall or base of operations; a place for every-being to return to, come adventure's end.
• A code of ethics. This can address the overall behavior of a member, business practices, product quality, or all three.
• A method of gauging your guild's reputation and standing in the various communities.
• An educational system for apprentices, or a school founded by the guild as either a civic service, or to create a steady stream of new recruits, or to further research and development- or in my case, survival- of the guild craft.

Oh, yes- and Ace is easily embarrassed by genuine affection given to him freely. Obviously, it's now my duty as his cousin to embarrass him as often as I possibly can.

Forever.

This I Swear!

Foreeveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

...So my Cousin, Pinkie Pie, is one of the most... Surprising of Surprises I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. She taught me her recipe for Rhubarb and Raspberry Froggies, which are so much simpler than an actual coffyn, goodness gracious. -Let's start at the beginning of this.

Hee hee! Sorry coz, I'll be taking over for a bit- you write so stuffily, I don't think you'll be able to really get the gist of the recipe. Or if you do, you'll go off on so many tangents you'll completely forget you're writing a receipt at all! I saw that soup receipt- for shame, Meadow!

Rhubarb and Raspberry Froggies are a kind of hoof pye, and not in the traditional Trottingham way- these are meant to be about the size of a ponies' frog, not carried as a fresh baked lunchbox! Sweet, tart, and flakey is what you want; and I always find that a nice spring harvest of the rhu and rasp are better than at other times of year. You can substitute orange for lemon, lime, grapefruit, or another sort of citrus- but be sure it's actually citrus. Fingerlime will get you the right flavor profiles, but not the zest.

You'll need about a fiftieth of a bushel of rhubarb if you're just baking for yourself- hm, about a pound? 3/4 of a pound of good raspberries- be sure to get the small ones, not the big ones, the big ones have no flavor and are barely pretty enough for decoration; 3/4 of a cup of granulated sugar, and if white is too expensive you can use honey sugar or brown, so long as it's granulated; a Tablespoon of granulated sugar; a Tablespoon of grated orange zest, and I've gotten the best economy from using the rinds of Juicer Oranges- they aren't pretty, but they are orange, and it's more for the smell anyway; 1/2 a Teaspoon of grated orange zest; 1/4 a Cup- that is, a drinking cup, like for water- of orange juice (freshly squeezed is best and don't mind the pulp); a Tablespoon of orange juice; two (2) chilled pye pastes, rolled to an appropriate thickness; one large Egg, and I use chicken although you could substitute with two of Pigeon, or four of Quail, or one of Duck- though if you do use a Duck Egg, you'll need to add egg white to balance the fat content; oh, right, and a cup of confectioner's sugar.

Special Equipment- None that I can think of, although perhaps a saucier wouldn't go amiss...

To start: reduce the rhubarb, raspberries, 3/4 cup of granulated sugar, Tablespoon of orange zest, and 1/4 cup of juice, in a middling-sized saucier, until the rhubarb has vanished and the mix is thick. It'll take perhaps half an hour on a gently hot stove; and you'll have about two cups of filling at the end.

Turn the egg into an egg wash; in a small bowl, whisk together confectioners' sugar, 1/2 Teaspoon of orange zest, and 1 Tablespoon of orange juice. Set the egg wash and the orange icing aside for later, preferably covered and somewhere cool- the cool box is alright for this.

Make a middling-hot oven; and line two baking sheets with parchment paper, not waxed paper. Roll one pye paste to about 1/16 of a hoof, and use the guard-rail method if your rolling skills are not up to that yet. If you can't make your own pye paste, storebought is just fine- sometimes, I just don't want to go to the effort if I'm making them for me, I just want the Froggy. You'll need sixteen 4x2 1/2 inch rectangles, rerolling and cutting scraps as needed. Arrange eight of your rectangles on a prepared baking sheet; and using a fork, dock the remaining eight rectangles.

Spoon a heaping Tablespoon of mix over each rectangle on the sheet, leaving a 1/2 inch border around the edges. Use the eggwash to brush the border, and then sandwich the filling with the docked pye paste and crimp the edges- with a fork or crimper- to seal. Repeat with remaining pye paste and rhubarb mix.

Let the uncooked hoof pyes cool for ten minutes, preferably in a cold box.

Finally: Brush the tops of the hand pies with your remaining egg wash and sprinkle with your reserved Tablespoon of granulated sugar. Bake, until golden brown- take care not to let them burn. Transfer your froggies to a wire rack to cool, as they will burn on the pan. Drizzle the froggies with orange icing before serving.

Honestly, Coz- you've gotta get better at getting to the point! You getting a contract with Whitebeard to make a tapestry of events, meeting my friends, meeting me- all of that's less important than you and Tristan! Come on, I'm dying for details, here-

THANK YOU, PINKIE PYE, FOR THAT LOVELY RECIPT. I'M SURE I'LL ENJOY YOUR RHUBARB RASPBERRY FROGS DURING THE LATER SPRING SEASON.

Grumpy and Certainly NOT Ready to Talk About It and if you push me on this Coz I may never speak to you again,
Meadow

Author's Note

Oh man, writer's block and a lack of direction for your story will absolutely gut your motivation. I realize now that I don't actually have a specific direction for this story to go- so, uh, any suggestions from the people who read this would be very helpful.