Chapter 1: The Beginning of It All
For the province records,
April 23rd, 1045.
It has come to my knowledge in recent weeks that a prominent denizen of the Ponyville Township has caused and propagated various random disturbances in the local area. While physically harmless, local citizens have made claims of massive local destruction and terror, absolutely unfit for the propriety of the nation, and entreated me with cries of woes and heresies committed by said citizen. The likes of which cannot be amply justified with the given evidence, as all is hearsay and would not be properly replicated upon the premises, much to my dismay. Therefore, I cannot make a just judgment of the situation, and seeing as any and all persons of my position in the local area cannot allow for time to visit the locale and evaluate the situation, matters shall have to sit as they are for the time being.
The demands have come in the form a small group demanding compensation or solvency regarding these minor “tragedies” happening in the area. Their furtive looks around and fearful treatment of the subject lends an air of mystery to the whole proposition—however, the guilt of their own persons, if they have any, could be the main instigator of such common emotions for the purpose of their complaints. Additionally, as is sometimes the case, and more often than one would normally expect, the blame for some common misdeed is placed upon an innocent scapegoat in order to seek revenge or justification for any arbitrary deed, legal or non-legal, committed by the scapegoat to the persons in question. And so any number of causes could have brought this group in here in this way, the least likely of which is the stated one. Oftentimes in my position I am asked to review a case that has nothing to do with the presented presumptions during the first meeting, the pith of which is only revealed afterwards.
As these complaints are common, I believe that this situation can easily be averted, and asking a pony in my office to dictate such matters is absurd; and hereupon reviewing the situation with even more detail it can be reasonably observed that such origins for the present issue are such that no actions of any of the involved persons are required to dampen any effects of any causes, as there are likely none of either.
However, I have requested from that small group various evidences of the committed grievances to warrant physical investigation, and as I assume that none can be reasonably presented on the situation, this matter shall rest.
--J. T. W.
May 4th, 1045.
I currently am writing this entry in the midst of a now chaotic mess which was produced earlier by the aforementioned group. Although I gave the group a polite dismissal as mentioned in the previous entry, it seems that they have taken the “more evidence” clause to heart.
They entered into the office very seriously, all eight of them carrying various items with no particular relation to each other. Just as nervous, shifty, and guilty-looking as before, none of them seemed desirous of speaking. I naturally asked for the cause of the visit, and so on and so forth, and in the reluctant discussion that ensued, I realized that their intentions were to demonstrate the "monstrosities" that the particular pony in question had committed. I had of course asked for various evidences, and not a reenactment, which was an anomaly that I have never encountered in my ten years in office, but due to the strangeness of the request and the dedication that the group showed, I allowed them to demonstrate what happened.
Which, of course, was one of the most terrible mistakes I could have committed.
Apparently I was the center of their demonstration, as all of their actions were directed at me in general. For the next several minutes, my vision was devastated with flying sponges, several failed attempts at eating a cake in one bite, off-key welcome songs with raucous dancing that knocked over several pieces of furniture, and party streamers blowing in my face. Somehow a porcupine lodged in my back during the spectacular.
Even with all of the effort that it took to try to make them leave the room, none of them decided that that was the proper course of action, and so the demonstration had to go on, of course, as I tried to shield myself under the desk, of course attempting to ignore the pain that tried to provide ample distraction from the affair.
Apparently jumping in the victim's face and screaming "Forever" while the victim cowered under a desk was also one of the trials that this group had to undergo.
In any case, they either grew bored or tired themselves so much so that they eventually dropped everything they were attempting to do, and I was left in a sea of sudden silence. Any attempts to shakily say anything failed miserably. After nearly half a minute, I could muster my voice, and gladly found it to be regular and businesslike as I tried to dismiss them from the room. The horrors that I had seen and absurdities that invaded the normally tranquil office were far too much to comprehend, and it took every ounce of my strength to speak to them, as distracted as it was.
And because my mind had not fully recovered from the marvelously horrid affront, instead of permanently banning them from the institution, I merely mumbled my way through the general "Not enough evidence" clause.
The dismay on their faces convinced me at the time that I had said the right thing (the right thing being what would keep them away) , and after they left the room I collapsed in a heap, in shock. Recovery from it has taken several hours, and I have still not ventured to remove the quills from my back yet. That is an honor reserved for when I decide to venture out of this office into the cold night, for I fear that another "demonstration" might be graciously forced upon me by the group in question.
Perhaps sleeping in here tonight will be the best idea.
--J. T. W.
Tranquility.
Peace.
Stillness.
Another quiet morning in Ponyville. The sun would normally be shining through the crystal expanse of the sky, but it had yet to slowly rear its head over the vast expanse of trees to the east. The Everfree Forest was no little distance away from the village, yet the dappled patches of warm honey-dipped light flitted through the trunks to paint the hillside opposite Ponyville with a golden mosaic.
Even the light breeze was quiet. Tree leaves turned lazily this way and that, touching each other. A light wisping sound, reminiscent of a quiet waterfall ran through the forest, quietly heralding the approach of the new season.
Brilliant scarlets, mild yellows, and deep oranges stretched across the glorious expanse. A light dew rested upon the fresh grass underneath, of which the warm patches in the sunlight gave off a light breath, which froze in the cool fall air. Gnarled trunks with rough pocketed bark, straight trunks with criss-crossing patterns stretching up to their foliage, smooth trunks with little age and no great height. These all guarded the fringes of the forest, sentries over the wide, billowing expanse of grass stretching to Ponyville.
From Ponyville, off to the southeast, rose a great mountain range, far in the distance. The forest stretched that far and tenuously climbed towards its peaks, only to be halted by the vast multituedes of snow garnishing their crowned heads. Brilliant white this snow shone, as if reflecting the glorious morningtide to come.
From overhead an industrious little red bird flew, gliding left and right, but always forward towards the town. Approaching it from underneath, the community itself seemed asleep. Even the buildings were sleeping, with smoke rising lazily from less than half a dozen chimneys. Ample piles of wood stacked against the sides of the comfortably placed buildings, and the smell of warm cinnamon apple pies baking at Sugarcube Corner and other seasonal decorations welcomed the quickly approaching fall season.
A quiet song echoed from the few birds. The early risers that no one appreciated, yet they worked all day and heralded the beginning of their work with cheerful song. Not a song of solitude, but solo harmony that blended with the breeze as it twisted its way thither and yon through the eclipsed sunlit foliage.
And it was in a grove of trees between the village and the forest that a solitary pony sat, cowboy hat perched jauntily upon her head. The blond hair flowing from her head and tail slowly flicked and turned in the breeze, unrestricted by any semblence of fashion. Deep emerald eyes peeked out over two trios of freckles, silently drinking in the scene. This time of the year was always quiet for Applejack, whose harvest was not ready yet and whose preparation work for the harvest was over. Inhaling deeply, then sighing contentedly, she reflected upon the life of the plants around her. She could sense the grass growing, ever so slowly, and ever so patiently, and feel the trees readying themselves for the cold winter ahead. Even the rocks and boulders appealed to her--such monoliths of sparseness and diverse infinitessimal life could not escape her attention.
And so the sun finally made the decision to peek its head up over the forest, as if to make sure that everything was going well in the world. It rose, ever so slowly, bit by bit, until the entire area was bathed in golden luminescent rays. Applejack made a small smile with the corner of her mouth and gazed upon it, enraptured. Day after day this happened, and nearly day after day she saw it, but it had a newness every time for her. The rebirth of the morning and life was a spectacle that few grew used to--and those that did grow used to it were never around to see it.
Minutes drifted by upon the lazy breeze, and she watched the world growing. Butterflies started to come out of wherever they sleep for the night, and more birds started to sing. Very soon there would be no more butterflies, or cool mornings made beatiful with the warm sunlight. But those days had not yet arrived.
Then a pink blur with bouncy hair shot down and hung in front of her face.
"Hiya, AJ!"
"Woaha--AH! What are you doing, sugarcube? Ah'm tryin' to enjoy this beautiful mornin' here. Why the hay are you jumpin' out of trees this early in the morning?"
And with a casual shrug of her shoulders (which was anatomically impossible, Applejack noted), Pinkie Pie dropped out of the tree onto the ground.
"So can I watch with you? Huh? Huh? Huh? HUH? And we can watch the birds and the sun and hear the quiet and Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! That reminds me of the time that I was all alone and making strudel and it was really quiet and so I sang a song and then it was really catchy and so I walked up to Mrs. Cay---"
Her monologe was promptly ended with a hoof in her mouth.
"Hon, I would really like to talk with you, but now's not the right time. Ah'm relaxin' before the harvest comes in, and would really like to enjoy the scenery a bit. You can watch with me only if you a-promise to be quiet."
Pinkie paused for a minute, mentally weighing the consequences of either decision.
"So be able to talk a lot but have no one to talk to because Mr. and Mrs. Cake are too busy right now and that would not be any fun at all or sit here with AJ and enjoy the nice weather..."
"It's not that hard, hon."
"...but if I stay here, then my day could be a Fibbonaci Sequence in relation to Marezart's worst composition! So that decides it."
"Decides what?"
"That I'm staying here."
"Oh."
Silence reigned for several minutes--so much so that Applejack started feeling fidgedty. She looked over at Pinkie Pie. She was really absorbed in looking at something. Or nothing. Which was probably the case--a wandering mind such as Pinkie's was more than bound to freight her thoughts off into distane areas of her imagination while the rest of her was still trying to catch up.
Several more minutes passed, and Applejack started getting worried. She made a decision to break the strange silence.
"Ahlright, Pinkie, Ah think Ah've enjoyed mahself enough. Thank ya kindly fer yer company, and Ah'm headin' off to the farm, so Ah'll be seeing you later."
Suddenly, as if that statement flipped some huge switch inside, the pink figure became a bouncing springlike being, replete with the high-pitched sound effect that one would definitely not expect from it.
"Okie dokie lokie! Bye!"
The faintest glimpses of a hummed song came from Pinkie's mouth as she bounced along towards Ponyville in the early fall environment.
AJ sighed with contentment, and slight confusion, as she turned to quietly meander her way back up towards the farm.
It was the perfect day.
Nothing could go wrong.
Nothing.
