The warm rays of the Equestrian sun beat down upon the Ponyville: grass was rustling, the town was bustling, and a flock of birds was perched upon a branch; but something was peculiar about one bird. It shone with the likes of brass, for it was not a living bird, but a mechanical one. It was there on the behalf of its owner; its purpose to observe the library. The bird shuffled its talons slightly to the right in order to observe the events that unfolded inside the library.
A lavender pony ran about inside the library of Ponyville. She wrote upon a scroll with a red quill, words rolling off the tip of the quill in swaths of black ink. After a quick scribble of her name, Twilight that is; she threw the scroll at the purple dragon resting in the nook of wall. He got up to the unwelcomed surprise, and after much yapping between the two parties, he agreed to send the scroll off to some foreign location through a spontaneous eruption of green fire.
The little mechanical bird observed this affair and flew off in the direction of the majestic city known as Canterlot. It found its master in relatively short time, a majestic alicorn by the name of Celestia. She cradled the bird in her wing as she hummed some tunes to it. After all was hummed and done, a loud pop resonated around the room, followed by various bird parts that littered the ground. She looked at the contents, a scroll wrapped by a ribbon, in mild amusement. Her mind was processing the note when her sister, Luna, rudely interrupted her.
“Celly, do we have any more cookies in the cupboard? We can’t seem to find any, and it makes me sad,” Luna said as crocodile tears collected in her excessively cute eyes. A puppy dog wiggle of the lip tipped Celestia over the edge as she succumbed to pity of her younger sister.
“I need to set a rule for this. Soon, she might abuse her powers to take over Equestria or possibly something else.” Celestia thought to herself.
“We do not have any cookies at this time Luna,” Celestia replied, to the distaste of her sister.
“What do you mean we don’t have any cookies? We need a sugar fix this morn, for I have much fun to be doubled this afternoon!” Luna expressed. Her voice boomed off the walls of Celestia’s room as Celestia looked at the princess of night and moon in anguish.
Celestia walked over to her sister and sat down beside her. She caressed her sister in her wing and consoled the distraught alicorn.
“We do not have any cookies for the baker hasn’t baked any cookies this morn, Luna,” Celestia sighed. “Why not bother him? I have important matters to attend to, as Twilight sent me a note using the bird, not direct transmission. Either something highly confidential is on her mind, or for my eyes only.”
“Aye! We shall bother said baker for his delicious treats, among them cookies!!” Luna exclaimed while she stood up. Her mouth brandished an absurd grin as she looked at her sister.
“Thank you sister, for we are ever grateful!” she exclaimed as she galloped out of Celestia’s chambers.
Another sigh escaped Celestia’s lips as her hoof slapped the top of her forehead and slid to the bottom of her lip, dragging her face with it. It was the first recorded “facehoof” in Canterlot history, but was not to be named as so by the Canterlot Librarians.
They insisted, in accordance with a reporter that recorded them for verbatim, “As the Royal Canterlot Association of Amazing and Intelligent Librarian Scholars, or RCAAILS for short, the technical term be, ‘the self-assault of the hoof kind,’ not some absurd ‘facehoof.’ The use of the aforementioned term, as deemed by the RCAAILS, shall be declared an act of treason against her holiness Celestia!”
Unbeknownst to the society, most ponies also regard their acronym as something a pegasus would cough up after the feather flu.
The pony recorder had sent Celestia the transcript through the royal mail service shortly after the “facehoof” debacle. Celestia looked upon the parchment with blatant disregard, for she couldn’t have cared less about that society’s actions.
As many a pony could tell, they weren’t the most popular folk around Canterlot. Rather than let anyone else assume; they took it upon themselves to declare their snide attitude. By the snood guffaws that they called laughter and their equivocal disposition towards respecting their elders, and anything that moves for that matter, they were rude to everything and anything. Then again, they could be older than the ancient ponysaurs, but only they would know, for they are walking sacs of wrinkles. This might explain their attitude.
“Those royals, thinking I won’t use the term ‘facehoof.’ I can’t engage in treason against myself, unless alternate universes. Silly scholars, they’re sluggish to understand my glorious vocabulary,” Celestia declared with a surprising amount of mirth.
She donned a detective hat as she analyzed her previous statement. “Now that I think about it, those scholars might be slugs, as their capes touch the ground and they don’t seem to have a gait. No hip movements, not a single jostle above their robes, their eyes are held up by stalks, they leave gooey trails wherever they go… they must be slugs! Giant, disgusting, slugs!” Celestia gasped. Now she sounded much like her sister on a sugar high or fairy dust trip.
Celestia waved her hooves like a mad-pony as she thought of the predicament at hoof. She looked outside to see the Equestrian sun much larger than it was before. She brought her hooves to her face in anguish as she saw the scene that lay before her outside. “That’s not right; the sun is much too low this time of day. Wait, no, the sun is closer to the land. Oh my...”
Celestia had moved the sun slightly closer to Equestria, as this is a frequent problem. Whenever she is surprised by something, the sun moves an erratic direction. On a normal day, she can retain the orbit just enough to prevent any major catastrophe. This time, it was a coincidence that part of the countryside was on fire. The alicorn quickly moved the sun back into place, to the relief of the various trees and woodland creatures that were now in flames.
The tones of sirens of the Canterlot’s fire brigade diminished as they left Canterlot to repair the damages. They had an erratic schedule, for they knew not when Celestia would, “flip the fuck out,” proper terminology as defined by the RCAAILS.
“Snap out of it Celly, what were you supposed to do?” she pondered, glancing down at her hooves hanging in the air, engaging in glorious applause flailing limbs mode.
“The note!” she exclaimed. “Of course, I must read what Twilight has sent to me using the birdy that vaporized just a few minutes earlier. It would be very rude not to, if one doesn’t count the numerous… okay, towering pile of her reports stuffed underneath my mattress.”
The mattress was not happy, for a large alicorn not only suffocates it every night by lying her royal quarters upon it, but also decides to stuff paper periodically into the mattress’s baffles and springs. The mattress has been plotting its revenge since the day that its feathers were ruffled, but nothing has taken place, for it is a mattress. Much like the scheming toaster in the kitchen, but that appliance has plans for world domination, not revenge.
“That crazy toaster, thinking it is more powerful than any other appliance, what say it to take over the world?” The mattress didn’t think, for it was a mattress.
Celestia glared at the note, scanning every line written by her prized pupil in Ponyville. The words seemed hurriedly done, for there was ink scattered across the page. Some letters were melded together, others left alone on the canvas. Celestia’s eyes narrowed as she read the closing line of the parchment.
“Why would she want… that book?” she wondered, pacing around on top of her overstuffed mattress. “Nevertheless, I must send it to her! For she needs it for research and nopony gets in between that crazy pony and research!” she declared, jumping up and down upon the mattress, spewing various unopened letters from the aforementioned student. The mattress would have her head for this, but the mattress would be burned quickly by the RCAAILS for this act of treason. So, the mattress sat there again, slightly less bloodthirsty than before.
“Watson!” Celestia yelled out her door like a shrill English woman as she called for her courier.
“Yes madame?” Asked Watson, trotting into the chambers of his master.
“I need you to get the ‘diary’ of Dipole and send them to Twilight at once!” Celestia declared with a stomp of her hoof. “And, for the boxes, please use FedOx not UBS, for UBS tends to soak any paper products in honey and breed their children inside it thereafter,” she specified with a grimace upon her face.
“Yes Madame. I’ll be on that at once,” responded Watson.
“And, Madame?” Asked Watson as he twiddled his hooves in an awkward manner.
“Yes my dear Watson?” replied Celestia in a childish tone.
“Do you need help with this… predicament of papers I see that lies before me?” inquired Watson.
“No my dear Watson. This is a trivial matter and will be a trifle to amend, please do the task I have asked of you,” asserted Celestia.
“Okay, goodbye Madame.” Replied Watson as he exulted away at a leisurely canter.
Celestia had sad down on her mattress for less than a few seconds before the sounds of a collision emanated through the air. She poked her head around the door of her room to see two fallen ponies and various cookies strewn across the walls and floors. Some clung to the ceiling be the grip of very sticky frosting, others just lay on the floor like Blueblood when he was in a Blueblood mood.
The first of the two entities lying upon the floor to get up was a cobalt blue pony. She shook her mane viciously as she began yelling at the other mass lying upon the floor. The beige pony picked himself up off the floor, also in a fighting mood. The two exchanged hooves and banter while eating the various treats that plastered the walls, to the mock horror of Celestia.
“Well these were my delicious cookies, and you just had to run so rudely into me!” Luna said as she provoked Watson. She was clearly not amused that her freshly baked treats now were all over the hallway.
“Well it is not my fault that your royal hindquarters happens to chargin’ targe around the hallways like a stampeding cow!” Watson yelled as he ate a chocolate chip cookie that lay at his feet.
Luna looked horrified as she addressed the courier in front of her, “How dare you, address your royalty as you should! And hooves off my cookie you beast!” she declared as she jumped at the offending party.
Watson shot off the first hoof, which was loaded with some frosting and a handful of cookie crumbles. Luna didn’t attempt to dodge the blow, rather let the hoof enter her mouth as she licked off the delicious bits of pastry. She returned favor with an attempted hind kick to the head of Watson. He did manage to duck, unfortunately, right into an apple pie that lay upon the floor.
Before somepony walked in with confetti cannon in hoof to celebrate the gag, Celestia stepped into the hallway and stopped the brawl with her own sparkly fanfare. Both Luna and Watson, faces stuffed with pastries, looked at the ruler with innocence. Celestia walked over to the two, separating them before plopping the two into two separate stools.
“What is this about?” Celestia asked as she questioned the two ponies.
“Oh, that’s a pleasant surprise. No immediate death threat or motherly tone? That’s unlike the other times before. I guess I’m a happy pony then,” Watson replied with a grin upon his face.
“Watson, now is not a time to exchange pleasantries, please answer the question before I change my mind on what you just mentioned about the lack of threats,” stated Celestia as she looked at the courier.
“Well we were carrying the vast assortment of cookies and pastries back to your chambers, my dear Celestia, and this buffoon ran into my plate,” Luna declared with a smug expression upon her face.
“Did you run into Luna, Watson?” Celestia inquired.
“Yes, but she was careening down the hallway at a ludicrous pace. And, I hadn’t heard her earlier, as she is the princess of night, dreams, and shadows,” Watson accused, taking the smug expression away from Luna’s face and affixing it to his own.
“Valid point, Watson. I’ll reach my verdict on what to do with you two later, as Watson has duties to attend to and Luna needs to bring me goodies,” Celestia responded with a clap of her hooves.
As Celestia had declared the discussion was done, Watson shot out of his stool and galloped down the hallway towards to library in order to grab the manuscript that needed to be delivered to Twilight Sparkle, researcher and element of magic. Luna crawled out of her stool and slithered along the ground like a snake vacuum, sucking up the remains of the sweets very quickly. She then made her way to the baker for the second time this day; slinking along the floor like a snail.
Celestia had “facehoofed” for the second time today as well as the second time in Equestrian history as she watched her sister and Watson exeunt.
***
“Twilight, there is somepony at the door for you!” Spike yelled from across the library room.
“Let him in Spike, this is a public library for Pete’s sake! And, who is Pete for that matter? I must investigate this later,” Twilight declared as she wrote down, “find out who Pete is,” upon her growing list of “to be researched articles of mind and magic.”
“I thought we weren’t open today, Twilight. Says so on the calendar,” Spike replied.
“If there is somepony looking for a book, I can provide it. No one gets between ponies and books; it would be an atrocity if it were so!” Twilight responded with a triumphant expression.
“Fine, I’ll let him in,” Spike said as he opened the door. “And, who are you?” Spike asked the pony that stood before him.
“I’m Watson, and titles are not in good order at the moment, for I need to deliver this manuscript to that purple pony over there,” Watson replied as he trotted in place.
Twilight looked up from her list as she heard her mane addressed by somepony. She saw the beige pony that stood at the door, over encumbered by a various parcels strapped to him. She put the list down and rose out of her bed. After a quick clamber down the ladder, she trotted over to the pony.
“Hello, Watson, is it? How may I help you today?” Twilight inquired while she surveyed the cargo strapped to Watson.
“I have a single package for you, Twilight, one straight from the Canterlot Archives. I had to fight off a couple of rogue texts from the shelves to get it, but I hope all is worth it. The manuscript you requested,” he stated while unstrapping one of the bulky packages.
Watson had handed the package to Twilight before addressing a personal point, “Also, my regards from Celestia for how short notice this is, but she needs you to send her a recipe for a sleeping potion. I have no idea why, but that would be greatly appreciated.”
“Why would Celestia need a sleeping potion? She already has the magic of an alicorn, unless she intends to be discrete about whatever needs to be done. I’ll have something for you right quick,” Twilight replied as she walked to the alchemy section of the library.
She looked at the small relatively small selection of alchemy books that lay on the shelves. Picking out one given to her by Zecora, she handed it into the courier along with the box that the manuscript was delivered in.
“Take the box as well, I have no need for it. Besides, it’s much easier to carry a book in a box than with just a strap,” Twilight said as she strapped the package to the courier.
“Thank you for that. It’s almost impossible to strap these blasted things on myself. I’ve gotten into so many knots that I should write a book on it. I blame my flexibility, and the fact that I have a fondness for pretzels. Anyhow, toodaloo!” Watson said as he left the library.
Twilight responded “Goodbye, and safe travels!”
Spike abruptly shut the door as he looked at the pile of papers that lay in front of him. Loose paper littered the floor due to the lack of page binding.
“Twilight, should I have this book bound? It’s going to be pretty messy to use for your research or whatever,” Spike asked as he whipped out a three ring binder.
“Sure, Spike. Make sure to hole-punch the paper first, not your fingers. We do not need to bother Nurse Redheart with your inaccurate hole punching,” Twilight requested.
“Okay, I’ll be more careful this time,” Spike replied while he rubbed the circular scars on his pinkie. Twilight watched over him while he arranged the papers in order. She casted a ward to prevent any vicious paper cuts. After a short while, the papers were in a tidy stack beneath the hole-punch machine.
It was primarily for preparing Twilight’s various research reports for archiving or to be sent off to the Canterlot Research Society for further review. Only one incident has been recorded, that being Spike’s pinkie turned into Swiss cheese.
That day, Spike had punched holes into Twilight’s most recent research paper, a bulky two-thousand-page monolith of papers. He’d been at it for at least an hour, and he was bored. Normally, this is a quick job, but because of the sheer quantity of paper and the fact that the hole-punch can only punch thirty pages at a time made it a chore.
He had to line up each page precisely with the guides before he punched the paper, which involved dropping a rock on top of the lever because it was so tiresome to punch through thirty pages at this point. The rock was tied to a string, which was also tied to Spike’s tail. After he had arranged the paper to be punched, he would flick his tail to drop the rock. Putting back the rock wasn’t a problem, as there was a stepping stool next to the machine, which also served as the rock’s perch.
Spike was tired, and when he was arranging one of the last stacks of paper, his tail drooped to the ground. He previously arranged the papers while standing upon a stool, but made sure to keep his tail on top of that stool. This time, he had forgotten to do so.
The shouts and screams that followed weren’t pleasant, but the cut was clean enough for Nurse Redheart to calmly assess the situation when Twilight and Spike arrived at the hospital. Because the plugs the hole-punch cut are so precise, sewing the severed flesh was a quick fix for the operator.
Spike remembered this day in vivid detail, and now made sure to pull the lever with his claws, not a falling rock.
Before he could begin to punch the papers, Twilight grabbed the top half of the first stack in her mouth.
“Twilight, do you need those now?” Spike asked slightly annoyed that he now has to recount another thirty pages for the hole punch.
“Yes, Spike. Sorry about your precision for punching the holes, but I need to get started with analyzing these documents. Apparently, the pony was a genius, but also a bit of a loony. So, it might take some time to do so,” Twilight responded as she climbed up the ladder to her desk.
“Okay, I’ll just punch the rest of the papers, then give you the binder later,” Spike replied as he punched the first stack of papers.
“Thanks, Spike. You’re the best helper,” Twilight said with a twinkle in her eye.
“No problem, Twilight,” Spike responded as he arranged another stack of papers.
Twilight looked at the pages that lay before her. A crude cover page covered by different colored stains with the words “Diploid’s Diary” written on top. She turned the first page and began to read.
***
Day 1
I found paper, therefore I shall use it. I have no idea where I am; therefore a journal is in good order. I shall record the entire goings on, so I can retell the events without looking like too much of a loony. Though, I already am one.
Hmm, I don’t even know the date of this day today. This day today, what is this day today? Ah, no matter. I probably won’t need it anyways, considering how long I’ll be cooped up in here like a chicken. Speaking of chickens, they reproduce through eggs, and as a taboo to pony-kind it might be, I do like a nice omelet from time to time. Omelets: a puddle of white flesh with a delicious, yellow core. Still don’t understand why anypony supports my viewpoint, well if I don’t include the wolves.
…
I’m off topic, or on topic? Do I even have a—oh wait, I don’t. Actually, I do! One put upon me by myself. Oh, that silly myself (I chucked there but you can’t read sounds, can you?). He throws me for a loop whenever I wake up away from my bed, in a damp cave, or in cozy pit of death. I’ve talked with that chap when he had me over tea once or twice; that fellow Death that is. Nice fellow, until he brings out that scythe of his. It’s quite pointy, but amazing at cutting ham, and chickens for that matter. Death says this property has something to do with disrupting the outer membranes of organic tissues, but I think it might be because the scythe is on fire.
Fire, the flickering flames of fire. So many hues of fire, all due to the elements, or some sort of convoluted drug trip involving distilled apple cider. Speaking of fire, there is fire outside the window of my cabin. Wait, that’s not a window—
—Mother of Celestia’s Flaming (profanity is not allowed in my wonderful journal), I’m on fire!!
Please excuse me while I, ow, put out these, ow, flames.
Sploosh: as I still believe you cannot read sounds. This is annoying, as I cannot explain my various actions effectively. I’m also mad because I like that word: sploosh, even though it isn’t acknowledged in that bloody Canterlot dictionary. Those stuck up twats in that library wouldn’t know an impressive word unless it hit them up the snout! Whoops, ranting. I need to get a hold of myself, or me. I’ll refer to myself as me. But, that would be even more confusing and might result in a slip-space time rupture!
Okay, how about this. Call me H, for Hippogriff. My other refers to himself as Hippogriff, probably because of some sort of twisted fetish or something, or maybe because he wishes to be a hippogriff. They are formidable creatures, half eagle and half horse. I feel bad for the eagle or horse that was involved with its creation, but no matter. Unlike a chimera, the do not breath fire, and thank goodness for that.
I looked around the cave. Some paintings were on the walls. After further investigation, they were the work of Hippogriff. Some despondent scribbles here and there, but this one intrigues me.
A bright colored dot, in contrast with the cave background of course. It has been done in a metallic paint rather than chalk. It seems like a wispy entity, floating above what appears to be a desert.
Ah, now I know for what purpose I am here. Research.
He wants me to research this strange entity, oh of course! Magic and the pursuit of said magic can only be done through practice. Obviously, we unicorns have our limits. Alicorns, on the other hand, do not.
They are of an astral, special variety of horse: the wings on their back channel a different sort of magic; Physiká, rather than Magiká. Because the alicorn can control the two elements, they can bend reality to a much greater extent than unicorns.
Of course, pegasi do have a conduit for their magic, through their various weather manipulations and flying. They are doing just that, using their magic to do so of course. They are not aware of it; most shouldn’t be or they might brag about it or go raving mad.
I would know, for my best friend did brag about it before he attacked a large thunderhead. He did die, that poor bastard. However, in his defense, he was an exponential weather pony beforehoof. Moved what most would regard as mountains of clouds, but these are ancient times, far before the restriction of Magiká by the princesses.
They are remarkable, those princesses. Manipulating the sun and moon is no easy feat, but what else they can do is much more remarkable. Luna, the goddess of the moon, also can enter dreams. Entering the deep thoughts of a pony is quite invasive, but amazing nevertheless. Celestia has a contemporary ability, to manipulate the laws of pony magic. Funny thing physics, first you are standing upon the ground, then the ceiling. I know of only one pony that can do it; a pink prankster she is, but that story is for another time.
Celestia can control how much magic a unicorn or pegasi can use. She manipulates this in sparse amounts, but just to keep nature in balance. Some could call her the goddess of Equestria and the many creatures that litter its surface; although, that is an overstatement. She cannot bend mountains or upturn volcanoes, which would be terrifying.
There are tales of ancient Alicorns that could do so, but that also is a story for another time.
Because the two princesses have such a vast amount of magic at their disposal, they need an outlet. This outlet, of course, is the previously mentioned shiny picture upon that wall.
Magic wisps, at least that’s what I would call them, and, no, I will not bring up the Canterlot Library’s terms again, they are stuck up ponies and I will leave them be.
The magic wisp is a manifestation of magic in the rawest form, conveniently, it just so happens I am in the desert with such curious wisps. Hippogriff must want to grasp their power and abuse it for his own nefarious purposes.
Oh dear, he could do so much bad. Make everypony eat muffins for breakfast, lunch and dinner! Gasp! That would be horrendous! Muffins are dry, depressing beacons of hope. You think you would get a wonderful taste of what is inside, but nope, just a depressing mush of flour.
No! He could do much worse! Install waterslides all across town and require all pony to slide down them to get to work! That would be terrible! I have broken my hind legs so many times on them, I can’t even remember the number. The ride is fine and dandy until you realize the pool is less than a centimeter deep. Then you fall off like a newborn foal trying to stand, face planting like an idiot to the amusement of the children around the side of the pool.
Wait, even worse! He wouldn’t, no he just wouldn’t. That would be the worst thing. No! I will not say what it is, for you do not need to know. Manipulating a factory like that, to make such putrid things, no! Never!
This is a terrible coincidence, for I cannot leave until I finish this bloody research. Apparently Hippogriff took it upon himself to make a magic barrier around the desert. I found this out earlier, when I was walking around like a blind bat.
He likes blood magic, and as a result, he can make circles pretty well. A perfect circle is no easy feat, especially one that is fifteen hooves in diameter. I’d call him a blood cultist, but that would make me one as well. So, I’ll dismiss that idea.
This circle happens to be encased under glass, so I cannot break it. I am a defective unicorn, for I cannot manipulate any sort of crystal substance. Glass happens to be a crystal substance; therefore, I cannot scratch out this circle.
I now feel light headed. So, before I faint as a result of blood loss, I will let you, the reader, know one thing. This journal will most likely contain my field notes of what will happen in the upcoming months. Hippogriff will most likely contact you though these notes. So, do not be alarmed, in fact, just ignore his ramblings. He is a mad pony, he is a dangerous pony. Hell, I’m lucky to be out of prison because of this pony, because he is a snide negotiator.
Oh, what is this? A wisp outside my window? I must take notes! Speaking of notes, I will mark my entries indicating the season, to my best guess. The desert cactus blooms in accordance to the seasons, well in this universe at least.
Now, for the notes. The wisp
***
“Drat!” Twilight yelled aloud.
“What is it Twilight?” Spike asked with a smaller pile of papers in front of him.
“I just so happen to have cut off the actual research portion of this paper, aside from the shenanigans he talks about, he just got to what I am researching,” Twilight responded as she hit her head against the desk.
“Here, Twilight” Spike said as he handed the next couple of pages to Twilight, hole punched of course.
“Thanks again, Spike. You’re the best,” Twilight replied as she hugged the dragon.
“Aww, no problem Twilight; Least I can do for ya,” Spike replied.
“Now, can you finish the rest of the hole-punching? I might as well take a break from this and send a note to Celestia regarding the manuscript,” Twilight said as she pulled a scroll along with a quill from a case across the room.
“Okay. I’ll be on that after you finish that note,” Spike replied.
Spike stood next to Twilight for a couple of minutes before Twilight put down the quill. She had written quite a bit, much neater writing than the last note he had to send. She wrapped the note in a red ribbon and handed it to Spike, who sent off the note in a green burst of flame. His work done, Spike walked into the kitchen to prepare a meal for Twilight and himself.
“Now, Spike. What’s for lunch?” Twilight asked as she trotted over to the kitchen.
“Today, we have daisy sandwiches. Just let me cut the crus—uaugh!” Spike yelled as Twilight began gallop over to the kitchen.
“What happened? Oh, not again, I’ll bring you to the hospital,” Twilight said as she picked up Spike in an aura of magic. The breadknife was lodged between his scales upon his back in a position too far away for his claws to reach.
“And, Spike?” Twilight asked.
“Yes, Twilight?” Spike responded as innocently as possible.
“How in the world did you do this?” Twilight inquired while she looked Spike in the eye.
“The knife slipped and you wouldn’t believe how it bounced around the kitchen…” Spike began to explain before he was cut off by an annoyed Twilight.
“Just explain the story at the hospital. Nurse Redheart is going to have a hoofful with this one.” Twilight stated as she and dragon left the library in pursuit of the hospital.
Author's Note
And there you have it. The first of many chapters for a story I hope to continue in good time. Tell me what you think below, for this was glorious to write with the flu.
I must thank Sfencer7 and Ed2481 for pre-reading, Sfencer7 also did some editing per request. Many thanks to them for checking over this, for it was a fun thing to write.
Please do address any concerns in the comments, for I do read every one. If there is some sort of grammar mistake, please point it out. Edits will be made in accordance to these errors, if I can find them before they escape my traps.
