I’m still walking when I hear I’m being followed. Rolling my eyes, I slow down and let my pursuer catch up. It’s Anne of course.

“If you want to know, apparently Myrna has vastly different opinions of the political heads of this place and we argued. End of story.”

“O- oh, okay... I was just going to ask if you’re alright.” I take the moment to look at her. She’s still wearing a normal tank-top styled shirt, not a fancy swim-top. It’s actually kinda nicer, because it doesn’t feel like she’s trying to display for me or anything.

“Well, I’m fine, but a bit angry. Though I guess when someones main impression of someone is incredibly different from yours... you disagree. Can you believe she thinks the princesses are my parole officers?”

“Uhm... that would be pretty weird. I thought Twilight was, ‘cuz you’re living with her. Like how Fluttershy is keeping an eye on me for now.”

“I live at the library so I can get books and so Twilight can study me and human stuff easier. At least that’s my reason. I can live wherever I want. Heck, I didn’t sleep there until I got a room!”

“Really? So, you weren’t offered a house near the library once you’re done with the intake stuff?”

I scoff. “Of course not. When I left my first visit with the princesses, I was under the impression I was just another citizen. Not a prisoner or criminal. I chose the library because that way I could read and study pony life without having to do any ‘field work’. You understand, right?”

“Uhm... sure. B-but, y’know, parole was originally given to soldiers who surrender peacefully, so that they don’t have to be prisoners, and to new citizens of a kingdom. It- uhm, sorry, I’m rambling.” Anne fluffs her feathers embarrassedly.

“Yes, you are. I’m no soldier. And if I was supposed to be stuck living there, then the princesses sure didn’t give a crap about me sleeping outside the schoolhouse for the first year or so.”

“Oh, there’s a schoolhouse near here? With itty-bitty little ponies? They must be so cute.”

“Yeah. Or annoying. Or a danger to everything and everyone around them. Depends on the kid and the situation. I’m kinda the self-appointed babysitter for the Cutie-Mark Crusaders who, honestly, can wreck half the town in one afternoon if left unattended.”

“Really? But what could such adorable little thin-” Anne is suddenly cut off by a trio of fillies landing on her with some speed, the multicolored blur bearing her to the ground. “- ow...”

I sigh. “What is it this time? Giant slingshot?”

“No, still a catapult. We just started launching ourselves ‘cuz it’s fun.” Scootaloo says, looking up from the pile. Admittedly, the entire pile looks invitingly plush.

“Well, I guess now would be a good time to introduce yourselves to Anne... though personally I’d begin with an apology.” The three chorus an apologetic-sounding, “Sorry miss Anne.” The trio scramble to get off of the poor girl.

“So, Anne, these are the CMC...” I anticipate that the fillies are going to explain the acronym in their usual way. Loudly. As such I cover my ears, mostly blocking out the happy yell of “Cutie Mark Crusaders, yay!”

I lower my hands. “Yeah, that.” I chuckle at Anne’s windswept-looking hair and baffled expression. The bronze harpy turns slowly towards me, her face slowly going neutral.

“They are adorable. See?”

“I never said they weren’t.” I say with a grin, and I pick up the nearest of the three and give her a hug. Turns out it was Scootaloo and she’s all poofy again. Seriously, I can’t tell if she’s part plush toy or what.

Sweetie Belle and Applebloom are picked up by Anne, who hugs the two fillies to her chest, humming slightly. “So what are your names, little ones?” she asks serenely.

The two she’s holding give their names with their usual cheer, but Scootaloo seems to be busy snuggling into my arms. I laugh a little. “And this one’s Scootaloo. She’s my number-one fan or something.”

“Mnuh-uh! I’m Rainbow Dash’s number one fan! You’re just number two, is all.” Even as she says this, she’s kneading my arms like a cat and settling down. For some reason, this is making Sweetie grin widely, and Applebloom blush. I’d like to know why, but I doubt I’d get a straight answer out of them.

I reply to Scootaloo’s ranking of me in my usual fashion. Sarcastically. “So I’m crap then, am I?”

“No! I didn’t say that! You’re cool, just not as cool as Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo butts her head against my chest with a surprising amount of force. I oof.

“Okay okay, guess you don’t know what number two means. Oh well. So Anne, I guess you should meet Noi too. She’s probably back at the catapult.” Still holding Scoots, I begin walking in the direction the CMC flew in from.

The five of us get back to the trebuchet, and see that there’s a line of little ponies and a stack of parachutes next to the miniature siege engine. Noi is sitting behind a counter next to it and has a small pile of bits next to her. Another pony with a parachute steps up, pays her, and sits in the sling, before being launched high and away.

I approach Noi. “Well, you’re certainly making a profit out of this. How long you think you need to keep this up until you’re rich enough to retire?”

Noi pulls out a little notebook, adorned with bright pictures of flowers and kittens on the cover. With a serious face, she flips the notebook open with a hoof. “According to Scootaloo’s calc-oo-lishuns, we only need... fourteen thousand, five-hunnerd, an’ twenty-two more for us to try for a Cutie-Mark Crusaders Millionaires cutie mark.” she looks up at me, keeping a very serious, straight face. It’s utterly adorable.

“Holy mushrooms! You guys are amazing! How can you drum up business this fast?” I briefly imagine the other three being launched into the air over the town with signs attached to them like advert planes. The image alone makes me laugh. I shake my head and set Scoots down on the ground. “Well good luck then, although I don’t think you’d get a mark for being rich. It’d probably be because you have good business sense.”

“Okay, but we’re still gonna try an’ get a million bits, each. Cuz miss Dash said that ah good edu-kitchen is vital for for any pony. And that a million is a lot.”

“It is a lot.” I think of a simple way to explain how high of a number it is in simpler terms. “Uh, think like if you had one thousand, one thousands. That’s a million, six zeros.”

“Oh... that’s more’n we thought it was. Uh, Scootaloo, I think we need to fix th’ maths...” Noi said, and motioned to the others. Scootaloo reluctantly walks off with the others. She and the others begin to talk, Scootaloo scribbling into the notebook with a crayon held in her mouth. Meanwhile, the foals in line began to shift restlessly. Maybe I can keep them here? Or should I just let them go? Being lazy? Or keeping the CMC’s business afloat?

Before I can decide, Anne is already beginning to coo at the little fillies and colts, and is fielding a veritable sea of questions from them. While the customers are distracted, I decide to help speed up the math processing. Having High School education is a far cry from being in elementary school or... whatever grade these kids are in.

I look over the calculations and my mind spins a little. There’s a solid page of calculations, two separate graphs, and a whole pile of doodled notes up and down the sides.

At one point, Cheerilee asked me to make sure that Scootaloo did some homework if she tried hanging out with me, because she’s failing her grade, whatever grade she’s in.

How?! This kid’s writing down what I usually had in my Algebra notes! Seriously! Well... maybe she’s failing history or something. Either way, I take a closer look to make sure her math is actually sound, not just impressive to look at. Fancy equations only work if they are used properly.

To my genuine surprise, they appear to be perfectly fine, but I keep hearing her mutter the wrong names for some of the larger denominations. she’s calling thousands ‘double-hunnerds’ and the hundred thousands ‘not-millions’. It’s looking like she’s got the millions right. Then why the heck did she get it wrong in the first place? She obviously knows what she’s doing, but she just didn’t understand the exact value? This kid is the stupidest genius I have ever met... but then, she’s young. I make a mental note to ask exactly which class she’s failing.

“Hey, Anthony, real quick, what number is the million? I know this far, but when’s the million?” Scootaloo asks, holding up a list from the ones place to the hundred billions, each carefully annotated mathematically, but no letters at all.

Not knowing whether to clap or sigh, I simply take the page and the crayon and add titles underneath each number, putting a line under each name to make it clear which number is given which name. Overall, I feel like I should just give her a quick rundown or a brief tutoring session in pre-algebra just so she knows what she’s doing.

A kid who doesn’t look past fourth grade, and she can multiply like a Junior-high freshman. She reminds me of me... only better...

“Well?” I realize I’ve been staring at her with a thoughtful expression for an unknown length of time.

“Nothing. I think I might ask Cheerilee if you might be allowed to take a harder math class. I have a feeling you might be bored during your normal classes.” With a grin I hand back the page.

“But which one is the million?” She asks, looking perplexed. She peeks at the page and looks up and down.

Ohhhh, now I get it, she’s not a very avid reader. I suppose I could help with that. Until then... I just point to where I’ve written “One Million” and the number above it.

“This one, see? Six zeroes.”

“Oh! Alright, thanks Anthony!” She nuzzles my hand, poofs up, and starts scribbling again.

She stares down at the numbers she’s written up.

“Alright girls, we either need a lot more customers, or a hundred new catapults! We can do this!”

Oh god, what have I done? Next Chapter: Chapter 97 Estimated time remaining: 21 Hours, 20 Minutes