Things had been going well for Twilight these past few months. Not only had she ascended to princesshood and saved all of Equestria from an other-worldly threat, but she had not yet been asked to take up the sort of responsibility and hard work that being a princess normally required. All of the respect, none of the effort. She didn’t know how long this would last, but in the meantime she’d make good use of her time - there were, after all, new books in her library she hadn’t even gotten to yet.

    “Spike, did the new shipment from the Equestrian Press arrive yet?” said Twilight, her eyes filled with delight. Exercising her princessly authority, she had commissioned several books intended to compile and expound upon various magical scrolls that she’d found moldering in the Canterlot Archives. Between her recent re-discovery of Starswirl the Bearded’s magical inventions and her portal-swapping adventures, Twilight had revealed vast gaps in Equestria’s magical knowledge - gaps she intended to fill.

    “It hasn’t come in yet,” said Spike. “But the mail-mare said it would be arriving special-order later today. You just ordered too much for her bag!”

    “It’s probably better this way,” said Twilight. “You know how clumsy she is - I don’t want dirt and hoof prints all over my brand-new First Editions!” There was the unmistakable sound of a hoof pounding on her door, and she eagerly went to open it. “I bet that’s the delivery stallion now!”

    It most certainly was not. Rather than the tall, handsome, muscular book-delivery stallion that she normally got to ogle, she found herself face to face with somepony shorter, fatter, and considerably less handsome. He clearly wasn’t here to deliver books, but he was flanked by Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie, so clearly, he had good reason to be here.

    “Hey there!” said Twilight, extending a hoof and looking at Slate warmly. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, here to help!” Much to her surprise, though, rather than shaking a hoof, the stallion stared at it for a moment, apparently not understanding. Was he a foreigner? She knew that the representatives from Saddle Arabia didn’t shake hooves, they bowed politely. Maybe she was supposed to bow?

    Pinkie whispered in the stallion’s ear and he got the hint, shaking Twilight’s hoof vigorously. Clearly, he knew of the custom, but for whatever reason he didn’t understand it, or at the very least didn’t understand that she wanted him to go through with it. It was certainly an awkward way to start things off, to be sure.

    “So you’re in charge of the town library, then?” said the still-anonymous stallion.

    “Oh, yes!” said Twilight. “Are you here to use it?” Rather than answering with words, the stallion simply made his way inside, wandering around and looking up and down the rows. After letting Fluttershy and Pinkie in, she closed the door, staring at the stallion quizzically.

    “Oh, um, don’t mind him,” said Fluttershy. “He’s...Different. But completely harmless, I assure you.”

    “What’s he here for?” asked Twilight. He moved around the stacks seemingly at random, apparently frustrated by something he either saw or did not see.

    “His name is Slate,” explained Pinkie, her usual bubbly smile helping Twilight to deal with the uncomfortable nature of the situation. “He’s one of the inspectors from the Ponymark Office in Fillydelphia.”

    “Oh! Does he need access to our official records in order to help out with the Cake’s trademark application?” asked Twilight. As a newly-minted member of the Equestrian bureaucracy, Twilight had taken the MMMM’s trademark application as an opportunity to study Equestrian intellectual property law. As such, she’d obtained all the recommended form books on the subject and had even helped the Cake’s submit the initial forms. It was rather exciting, in its own way.

    “Actually he finished that yesterday, and mailed it out,” said Pinkie. “But he’s got something else he’s working on, and he said he needed your library to figure it out.”

    “Oh! Well, what is it? I’ve got books on everything in here,” said Twilight. Her library was a point of pride, and she always worked hard to keep it up-to-date and well organized. While most ponies were only interested in the latest Daring Do novella or spicy romance stories, she nonetheless worked hard to keep an accurate and up-to-date reference section. While most libraries kept the latest volume of the encyclopedias and almanacs and left it at that, Twilight brought in everything from textbooks to treatises as best she could. Sure, the demand was light, but with a princess’s budget, bits were no object. If she wanted a book, she’d have it.

    “No, you don’t,” said Slate, indignant. “I can’t find a damn thing I want.” He was clearly upset about this, but Twilight was used to it. She did all of the stacking and shelving herself, and as such, either she or Spike invariably ended up retrieving most of the books for patrons. They would search briefly, walk past what they wanted, get upset about it, and Twilight would mollify them. It was just part of being a librarian - even a princess librarian.

    “Well, why don’t we check the catalog?” said Twilight, using her magic to levitate the massive, hoof-written book over to Slate. He looked at it, apparently even more upset.

    “What the hay is this?” said Slate, turning the pages indignantly with his hoof. Twilight winced. Mud and dirt were hard to remove from pages, and she hated it when patrons used their hooves, rather than magic or a page-turning tool, to move from one sheet to the next. “Everything’s in the order you acquired it. This is useless. I can’t find anything in here.”

    “Of course it’s in the order I acquired it,” said Twilight. “I record each and every acquisition as it arrives.”

    “And you remember them all?” said Slate, incredulous.

    “Well I’d be lying if I said Spike didn’t help out a lot,” said Twilight. “He’s my number-one assistant, you know. So why don’t you just tell me what you want, and Spike or I will retrieve it?”

    “I don’t know if the book I want exists,” said Slate. “But if you could point me towards whatever you have on high-speed aerodynamics, I can at least eliminate what I’ve already read.

    “Aerodynamics?” said Twilight, confused. She’d heard the term before, mostly from Rainbow Dash, but she’d never heard it to use anything other than the uniforms worn by professional flight groups. “You mean like with gryphons and pegusai?”

    “Well, they use aerodynamics, sure,” said Slate. “Look, do you at least have a physics section?”

    “We have a delightful selection on physical manifestations of magic…”

    “How does that help me?” said Slate, indignant. “Do I look like a unicorn to you? I need to study the physical properties of matter, not just wave my horn around and make everything better.” The way he said “unicorn” dripped with contempt. She knew that many earth ponies were jealous of unicorns and pegusai, but she’d never met one who was so open in his jealousy.

    “Hey now, I’m just trying to help,” said Twilight, growing indignant. This Slate character was excessively rude, and even if he was with Pinkie and Fluttershy, he had no right to talk to her like that.

    “Help me how?” said Slate. “Your library seems to be shelved almost at random, you don’t have any books I can actually use, and your entire front hall is filled with romance novels and books for foals.”

    “The front area is set up so that casual readers can find what they want easier!” said Twilight. Her library was her pride and joy, and to have it dismissed so casually hurt her deeply.

    “Casual readers can get their books from Barnyard Bargains,” said Slate. “I need real books. Not all of us our princesses, you know. Some of us can’t just magic up solutions to our problems.” Twilight was now fuming. This pony came in from nowhere, started insulting her library, and now he was insulting her. She had a good mind to throw him out this instant. And who was going to stop her? She was a princess now - she could make ponies behave whether they wanted or not!

    Before she could magically chuck him out the front door or buck him hard in the face, Twilight felt a small yellow hoof on her shoulder. “Uhm, I know you’re mad,” said Fluttershy. “But please, Slate is…” Fluttershy couldn’t quite put her feelings into words - a usual problem with her - but it was clear she felt strongly about Slate.

    “What she’s trying to say,” said Pinkie. “Is that Slate may be rough on the outside, but he’s just trying to help. It might not be clear what he’s trying to help, but…”

    “I’m trying to build something that will enable particularly talented pegusai to avoid the disturbances over their control surfaces inherent in transonic propulsion,” said Slate.

    “Oh...Kay…” said Twilight. She had no idea what he was talking about, which was a rare experience for Twilight. Even when Pinkie went off on a random tear, she was talking about understandable things, usually involving baking.

    “Look, how about we just go out for a nice hay smoothie and let him work?” said Fluttershy. “I’ve got coupons!” Twilight was hesitant to leave her library unattended - especially in the hooves of this ruffian - but Spike was around, and Spike always seemed to have a lot more patience than she did when it came to “difficult” patrons.

    “All right,” said Twilight. “And while we’re out, you can explain to me why, exactly, you brought Slate here.”

***

    “So explain to me again what, exactly, Slate built for Fluttershy?” asked Twilight. The smoothies were long since finished, as was the coffee, the biscottis and the two slices of chocolate cake. They had been gone for hours now, and the entire time, Pinkie and Fluttershy had been constantly pushing the conversation away from Slate and on to other topics. It was not that she didn’t enjoy talking with her friends, but she did want to know, in detail, why Pinkie and Fluttershy were hanging out with this strange stallion.

    “Well, see, he saw that I um, spend so much time feeding my animals each day,” said Fluttershy. She had finished everything she’d been given, but with the incredible, timid slowness that made it no small wonder that she was able to keep her light, cute figure. There was still half a biscotti on that plate, and no chocolate cake to be seen.

    “It’s like this,” said Pinkie. “Slate came in to approve the MMMM’s trademark, and he was like, totally weird and rude at first…” Twilight nodded, trying to pick out the facts from Pinkie’s convoluted and extended story. Jade Singer she was not. Twilight did manage to learn, however, that Slate was a rough, rude but well intentioned pony who, despite his inability to understand proper social behavior, had helped out the Cakes, and then Fluttershy, immensely. He was intelligent and hardworking, and the machinations that resulted from his actions were beneficial, although it took more than a little patience to put up with him long enough to reap the benefit of his presence. He was also phenomenally intelligent and, due to his experience and training at the patent office, very scientifically versed.

    “So you brought him to my library to help him finish this...What did he call it exactly?” asked Twilight.

    “He told me it was a ‘Shock Cone,” said Fluttershy. “Although I don’t know what that means.

    “Well, he kept asking for stuff about pegusai,” said Twilight. “And lightning bolts are the ultimate kind of shock. Do you think he could be interested in something involving the weather?”

    “I don’t know,” said Fluttershy. “When he audited my books and started looking through my living room, he was talking about money saving and efficiency. Then before I could stop him, he started ripping up my appliances.”

    “Fluttershy!” said Twilight, aghast. “You let him break your things? I know you’re not exactly Iron Will, but that’s a level of passivity usual even for you.”

    “He was just trying to help,” said Fluttershy, defending both herself and Slate. “After all, if he’d just told me that he was trying to build a machine that would feed all of my animals, I’d have gladly let him! I’ve wanted to redecorate the kitchen for a while, so losing the refrigerator and dishwasher isn’t all that bad.”

    “Refrigerator and dishwasher?” said Twilight. “And I left him alone in my library? Good intentions or not, some of those books are irreplaceable - and who knows what he’s doing with them!”

    “Calm down,” said Pinkie. “We’ve been here for hours, and if there was a problem, Spike would have let us know.”

    “Four hours?” said Twilight, mishearing Pinkie and not bothering to check for a correction. “I’ll be late for my bi-monthly reshelving! It was nice to talk to you girls, but I have to go!” she took off at a trot, leaving her yet-untrained wings and her teleportation spells aside for now. She didn’t want to be too rude, after all. And she was telling the truth - it was the second Tuesday of the month, and she and Spike were scheduled to do the reshelving. Still, she knew it was rather rude to leave her friends like that, but surely they understood - she had left her library unattended, and despite all their efforts to mollify her and convince her that it was safe, they had also told her that Slate had no respect for other pony’s property. And her library didn’t just belong to her - it belonged to all of the citizens of Ponyville, to serve as a source of knowledge and enjoyment for all of them.

    Much to her surprise, however, Twilight found the library to be, more or less, in the same shape she’d left it. Slate was still there, he was still grumbling as he worked his way through various books, and he was still rude and not worth talking to. Spike, however, was nowhere to be seen - which was strange, since he was usually the first to help library patrons whenever there were any. “Spike? Where are you?” asked Twilight.

    “In the kitchen!” said Spike. Twilight followed his voice, and found herself overwhelmed by pleasant smells. She knew that Spike had been studying cooking in his spare time, but thus far, his experiments had all been exceedingly unpleasant, excepting those cookie and cake recipes from Pinkie - provided he remembered that only dragons liked gems in their cupcakes.

    “Spike, what is that delightful smell?” asked Twilight. It was coming from a large pot that Spike was gently stirring.

    “It’s the marinara sauce I’m making for the spaghetti,” said Spike. He proffered a small spoonful to Twilight, who tasted it. It was astoundingly good. “Normally I don’t have time to make the sauce from scratch, but when Slate started reshelving the books, I realized I had all the time in the world! That’s why it came out so well - no need to rush it this time. Just nice fresh ingredients from the market, a little bit of dragon fire, and a whole lot of dragon stirring and spicing!”

    “You let him reshelve my books?” said Twilight, indignant.

    “Oh don’t get your mane in a tizzy,” said Spike, hopping down off the stool he was using to give him access to the stovetop. He opened the oven and pulled out a set of roasted hayballs. They smelled every bit as good as the marinara. “You always wanted to have your books shelved not only by topic, but to have the topics divided up alphabetically among larger topics. I showed him the plans you sketched out, and he went to town on them. I’ve never seen a pony sort, organize and categorize like that before. Even you, Twilight!” Confused, Twilight walked back into the library to check. Indeed, Slate wasn’t just taking books off the shelves to examine them - he was sorting and organizing them into type, and even following the plan she laid out. The Popular Fiction and Young Pony Fiction sections by the front door, the Magic books out by her favorite desk, and the various other Reference manuals sorted from Alicorn to Zebra in the reference room. He was clearly far from done - without magical assistance, reshelving was a slow process. But she saw no reason to interfere. Especially since interference would require her to talk with Slate, an experience which was doubtless to be unpleasant.

    “Well, if he’s doing that, then I guess we have time to enjoy dinner together for once,” said Twilight. Spike grinned, his satisfaction at a job well done beaming from his eyes. His helpfulness certainly did border on obsequiousness a little bit, but he had the sort of loving, hard-working nature that she had grown to love in her brother. It made Spike easy to love, and though he could be a bit of a doormat at times, he could always be counted on to do an excellent job. And that, more than anything else, was why he was her number one assistant.

    “It’s been a long time since we got to sit down and have a real meal together,” said Spike, who quickly set the small table in the kitchen. This was indeed true - generally Twilight would have a quick sandwich or something while she worked, and when she did eat a big meal, she would eat with her friends, which did not necessarily mean Spike was invited. It was, after all, somewhat embarrassing, having Spike and the waiter both fawning over Rarity while Fluttershy couldn’t summon enough bravery to get a refill on her water. Something quiet and simple, with Spike playing the role of waiter, was nice - and she hadn’t really had many such nights ever since she left Canterlot for Ponyville.

    “That does indeed sound nice,” said Twilight, going over to the cupboard and pulling out a bottle of wine. None for Spike, of course, but what could go better with pasta?”

    “If you think that’s nice, just wait until I break out the garlic bread!”

***

    Twilight yawned as she woke up, her head pounding much more than it should. She remembered over-eating more than a bit last night, and that she followed up that over-eating with over-drinking. It had been so long since she’d been able to sit down and chat with Spike as a friend rather than a “servant,” and she had been too polite (and too distracted by good food and conversation) to refuse his constant refills of her wine glass. Twilight knew she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol (even attempting to keep up with Applejack or Rainbow Dash had proven that much) and knew she was going to have trouble the next morning when she found it difficult to work her way upstairs to bed, but all in all it had been worth it. The pasta was great, the wine was even better, and getting to catch up with Spike had been the best of all. She’d need to make it more of a regular thing - especially what with her princesshood meaning that she’d be spending more and more time away in Canterlot. There was also her relationship with Flash Sentry to consider.

    Twilight worked gently down the stairs, avoiding the bright lights and trying not to step on Spike’s bed. She hadn’t heard the alarm yet, so he probably wasn’t awake. Therefore she should have just enough time to get some water in her, along with an anti-hangover spell, before he got up. Maybe she could even do her hair and get ready for the day. She knew Spike wouldn’t make fun of her for being a little hung-over in the morning, but still. It was embarrassing for a princess to present herself in such a manner.

    As she stood in front of the kitchen sink, nursing a glass of water and trying to remember the exact mental incantation for curing her hangover (always a downside of the spell - when one needed it, one was usually too out of it to cast it) when she saw Derpy, the mail-mare, bumbling about across the street. That was an odd thing to see before the seven AM alarm went off - Derpy usually didn’t show up until well after nine, even on a good day. Still, she was not known for dependability or reliability - only being loveable, and for somehow getting all of the mail delivered despite the inevitable delays, accidents and mistakes that came from her clumsy nature and strabismus. A real trooper, that one.

    Still, the sun seemed awfully high in the sky for seven AM. Though it was summer and the days started soon and ended late, usually she couldn’t see the sun until ten at the soonest, what with all the houses and buildings in the way. After finally managing to cast her “cure hangover” spell successfully, she trotted back up to her bed to check. Maybe she’d forgotten to wind up her alarm clock again. Or maybe she was just misinterpreting things in the haze of an early-morning hangover.

    Much to her dismay, however, she found her alarm clock was gone entirely. It had not merely run down or been accidentally knocked off its place on her bedside table, it was completely gone. Spike was as well - and his bed was still made from yesterday, indicating he’d never slept in it. This wasn’t just unusual, it was worrying. Spike was rigorous in his sleep schedule most nights (summer and winter solstice excepted) and she’d rarely found him oversleeping or waking up early. As she hadn’t seen him in the kitchen (his normal early-morning haunt - making pancakes or hay-strips along with fresh-squeezed juice) she headed to the bathroom, but found it empty. Becoming increasingly worried, she began to search the library, hoping to find him sleeping among the stacks. But he seemed nowhere to be found. Now in a panic, she began running around, calling out his name, but he didn’t reply. Fearful that he had been hurt - or worse - she threw open the door to the reference section of the library, the only part of the house (short of the basement) that she had not yet checked.

    As she threw open the door, she was overpowered by an intense and unpleasant odor, along with a vague, smoky smell. “Spike? Are you okay? Please talk to me, Spike!” Had there been some sort of a fire? She remembered Spike going off on his own after she went to bed, presumably to make sure all the doors were locked and that there were no patrons in the library now that it was closed. But she realized that she never remembered him coming back - and that she hadn’t seen Slate leave, either. Clearly, the two were connected.

    Using her magic to clear the smoke, she took minor comfort in that there had not been a fire, only an abundance of cigarette use. In the middle of the reference area, next to the main reading desk, a flower pot had been converted into a reeking, stinking mass of cigarette butts, many of which were still smoldering and emitting a disgusting smell. She had always hated tobacco smell, and had been glad of its near-universal ban in most Canterlot eating and educational establishments. It was likewise banned in her library - but apparently Slate had not bothered to follow the “No Smoking” sign posted at the door. Inconvenient, sure, but she could easily clean up the mess and stink with magic, and it didn’t explain Spike’s disappearance.

    As she was removing the now-ruined flower pot from the desk in order to teleport it to the Ponyville dump, she found herself off her hooves and sprawling on the ground. The flowerpot shattered, spilling cigarette butts and ash all over the floor. Startled, she turned around to see Spike asleep in a pile of small notecards, his body sprawled wildly in the position he took whenever he had to sleep, but had not been successful in making it to bed. Startled and relieved to finally find him again, she grabbed him close, hugging him tight in her hooves without bothering to wake him up.

    “Oh Spike, I was so worried!” said Twilight. He grumbled a bit, apparently surprised to find himself in Twilight’s embrace, as well as in the reference section.

    “What...What time is it?” said Spike, rubbing a claw in his eye as he struggled to wake up. She realized that his claw was slightly red and inflamed - the usual result of too much claw-writing. How did that happen? Ever since she shifted to writing checklists herself, Spike had only to check them off, and hadn’t gotten a case of claw-cramp ever since.

    “I don’t know, let me check…” In order to keep on schedule, Twilight had clocks stationed throughout the house, and she had put one rather large ornamental one in the reference room as a practical decoration. It read 10:24. She tilted her head. That couldn’t be right - she hadn’t slept in past ten since that nasty cold she caught last winter. Then she saw that her misappropriated alarm clock was on the reading desk, and that it read the same. “Spike, I can’t believe it! How...How did we both sleep in so late! Oh my gosh, the library was supposed to open hours ago! And I have a meeting with Applejack at eleven!” Before she could begin to genuinely panic about how much of the day she missed, she heard Spike groan. It was not his usual exasperated groan - a mixture of frustration at Twilight’s tendency to over-react to problems and his desire to not have to work 110% all of the time. It was a moan of pain, like he had let out that first time he got a serious case of claw-cramp.

    “He made me fill out these little cards all night!” said Spike, pointing to a series of neat stacks of note cards - misappropriated flash cards from Twilight’s exam prep, no doubt - which had been scribbled on and then placed in order. There was shelving for them too, a strange set of drawers which had clearly been built to hold the cards - and which, from the looks of it, had been constructed from the writing desk she’d been keeping in the basement and intending to refurbish.

    “Are you telling me Slate did this?” said Twilight. It was one thing to smoke in her library or mess with her books. But it was another thing entirely for any pony to terrorize her dragon like this. Spike was more than a pet - he was her number-one assistant, and the only true non-family friend she’d had before she moved to Ponyville.

    “He made me fill out cards and shelve books,” said Spike. “I tried to stop him - really, I did! But he’s so big and strong and mean, and he wouldn’t stop! I kept trying to go to bed, but every time I tried, he’d ring the alarm clock in my ears! And he wouldn’t stop putting these little stickers on all your books!” Twilight looked around, and realized that, indeed, small stickers had been placed on hundreds of volumes within her reference library. There were numbers and letters on them which seemed to correlate to the cards, and it was then that Twilight realized what Slate had been doing.

    “He...He was cataloging the books with these!” said Twilight, picking up a few of the cards. Most were carefully written in Spike’s superb claw-writing, although a few had the clumsy and unpracticed lines of an earth-pony using his mouth. Each one of them corresponded to a book, and the cards were sorted by author and subject. Further examination revealed that the paperwork on the desk was, in addition to strange scribblings of cones and mathematical formulas, a system of breaking down almost everything in the library into topics, subtopics and sub-subtopics. It was brilliant in its simplicity, and especially in the way it enabled new books to be added to the catalog merely by filing a couple of cards in the correct location.

    Brilliant as this was, however, it wasn’t something Twilight had asked for. And, even worse, it had come at the cost of Spike, who was clearly suffering from terror, claw cramp and exhaustion. She also wondered if the dense smoke had been affecting him too - Spike had surprisingly sensitive lungs and nasal passages for a dragon, and certain kinds of smoke and dust made him downright asthmatic at times. Concerned for his health, she picked him up and carried him upstairs to his bed, tucking him in gently.

    “You sleep for now, Spike, and I’ll just have to tell Applejack that our eleven-o-clock is off - I’ve got a stallion who’s got a lot of explaining to do!” Just then, she heard the doorbell. She rushed down as quick as she could, her mind now burning with anger. If it was Slate, come back for more damage, he was about to learn what a princess did to her subjects when they were so mistreated and used!

    Much to her surprise, however, she found herself confronted by the handsome delivery stallion that always brought her books. Though she never had the courage to flirt with him, she nonetheless found him pleasing to look on, and they had a good rapport - at least as far as his carrying of heavy boxes of books and helping her to shelve them was concerned.

    “Are you okay, princess?” asked the delivery stallion.

    “I’m fine, Gary,” said Twilight. She then sighed. No need to lie for the sake of it. “Actually, I’m not. Have you seen a gray stallion with a black mane and green eyes?”

    “Was he kinda fat?” said Gary, rubbing his hoof against his head. “I remember a stallion like that signing for some books I delivered here yesterday afternoon. I’d never seen him before, but he said he was reorganizing your library for you and said he had the authority to sign for the books.” Twilight sighed. Gary, for all his handsomeness and brute strength, was a bit too trusting and naïve. More than once he’d let someone sign for a package, only to find out later the pony was an impostor, and a quick search (indeed, in one case a criminal investigation) was sure to follow.

    “Please tell me he didn’t damage them,” said Twilight.

    “Actually he yelled at me, saying I wasn’t handling them properly,” said Gary. “After he took delivery he slammed the door on me. They aren’t damaged, are they?”

    “I haven’t had time to check,” said Twilight. “Look, just...Did you see him?”

    “Not since yesterday,” said Gary. “But he gave me this order form and told me that you needed these books ASAP. He even referenced a special expedited checking account from a bank in Fillydelphia. Said it was his own and you’d reimburse him.”

    “What books?” asked Twilight, confused. “You already delivered my Starswirl compendiums, if Slate did indeed sign for them.

    “These!” said Gary, throwing wide the back of his enclosed horse-cart. Twilight almost went slack-jawed.

    “There must be hundreds of them!” said Twilight. She hopped up into the cart and began examining them. They were all titles she’d never heard of before - A Cartoon Guide to Physics for Foals, A Brief History of Reality by Steve Hawkfeather, and The Nature of Things by Albert Holstein - there was, at least, a clear pattern of them involving this “physics” that Slate had been railing about.

    “Can you sign for them and help me unload?” asked Gary. “I would have gotten here at nine like usual, but it took an hour to get these on there at the overnight depot.”

    “Slate didn’t happen to say he’d be back for these, did he?” asked Twilight. She had to resist the temptation to open up these new volumes and pour through them. A whole world of science that she’d overlooked! She was going to learn so, so much in the next few weeks. After she dealt with Slate for hurting her precious little dragon, of course.

    “Actually he did,” said Gary.

    “Good,” said Twilight. “That’ll save me the trouble of looking for him. Because he’s got a hell of a lot of explaining to do…”

Next Chapter: Chapter 5: Applefall Fabrics Estimated time remaining: 38 Minutes