I hate bees.

Songring appears to be in a sort of renaissance era this season. The sheer boom of creative/romantic ideas and creations has left me astounded. The results of these ideas I must call into question over and over again; however, I still am impressed at the amount of inspiration some of these ponies have been having recently.

Dammit, I hate bees.

We have had three new articles created recently that the ponies have wished to garner my attention with. I do have a theory as to what might have caused this wave of creativity, and why some of the creations have been of questionable make. This theory is not very complimentary to the artists involved.

We began trading with the zebra caravan once things had calmed down after Songring's small episode with the piper. I had a chance to meet with the leader of their caravan, which happened to be a winged zebra with striped tan and charcoal fur and a sandy-colored mane. To be honest, I find the names nearly impossible to pronounce due to my accent (or lack of one; well, that is a matter of opinion, since what I believe to be a neutral manner of speaking may indeed be a funny accent to these creatures), so they have been kind enough to offer their translated names for us to use for them. Each name seems to consist of a first name (usually short, approximately 2-5 letters), and a title following, which is gained at the same time that their cutie mark appears. Val Gathers-Treasures is the name of the winged zebra that leads the caravan as elected by the shaman of their tribe back in the deserts to the north. This means that the caravan is owned by the entire tribe as a communal effort to gain allies and establish bartering with foreign nations (or in our case, settlements), as opposed to Sir Bullion's caravan which happens to be run and owned by he and his family.

With the amount of ponies calling my attention to event after event here in Songring, I regretfully did not get a chance to sit and speak with Val more than just enough to learn what little information I described above and do a bit of trading with him. Their wares consisted mostly of exotic clothing, which seemed lightweight and easy to carry (Willow wanted a headscarf, but I told him no because he'd end up strangling himself with it.), as well as many leather supplies, which I decided we could make use of for various purposes around Songring. There were also many dried and prepared herbs that Val claimed were medicinal, while others were simply spices, and some were believed to enlighten one's spirit. I fail to understand the importance of these plants, but I traded for them as well in hopes that Bunsen would be willing to do a bit of research and let me know exactly what these zebras were offering. One very peculiar question that came up was what the zebras would like in return for their wares, as we had no bits for them to use when trading with other settlements and civilizations, nor anything we could spare that would be classified as “useful” in a direct sense. It was not until I came across an iron anvil in their wares and asked how valuable it was to them that the conversation came about.

"That? It is just dead earth. Do you like its shape? It may mean more to Songring than us," Val informed me when I inquired, seeming disinterested in the object overall.

"Dead earth? It looks to be made of iron."

"It is just dead earth. It does not support life and does not dance in the sun. It is simply hard, cold, and still: Dead."

"I see the metal industry must not be very practiced by your tribe then." I commented, sliding my hand over the anvil as I considered how useful it might be to make another forge in the mines with it. "Is there such a thing as living earth then? Aside from soil?"

"Some earth dances in the light, and others can present its beholder's image upon its surface. That is living earth too. Do you know of it? It is the earth that your ponies of the Sun of Chance make their bits from."

"You mean lustrous metals then," I nodded to her, before I cracked a grin. "We actually have some in its raw state. Do your people find this living earth valuable as well? Perhaps that is something we can trade with you for your wares?"

Val was distrustful of my claims at first, hearing that I was in possession of some of this “living earth”. I had to take her with me to the stockpile room and remove one of our silver ingots from the bins located there to show it to her. "It is, is it not? This is certainly it. It dances in the light, see?"

"Yes, that's reflection of the light. Causes it to shine. If you took a bit of abrasive material to it and rubbed it long and hard enough, it would also show your reflection. It would, as you say, present its beholder,” I instructed, using the outside of my coat on the ingot’s surface in hopes to give her an example.

I had her sold right then, watching her features light up with new fire as she knew that we now had a commodity that she could take back to her people. I believe we only traded five ingots total to them for the objects we obtained (herbs, tanned hides, and the small anvil), but they asked if they would be welcome to return next year with new offers for our living earth. I will be happy to get to meet with Val again next year, and maybe learn a bit more about our zebra neighbors.

Son of a bitch, I hate bees.

I should probably explain that bees have become a problem in Songring recently due to the large amount of them that have gathered. Honeysides happens to be a very talented beekeeper, and as such, has done an excellent job in preparing them some homes out of rock hives and tending to their needs in such a way that their population has exploded. We must not have enough hives to contain them all, however, and this has lead to them building hives elsewhere in the settlement to create new space.

This is all new to me because I have never actually seen a live bee before now: Only in videos on the stratus and pictures of them in articles. Back on Terriel, the air is too thin for their strange body shapes to maintain flight, and as a grounded creature they do not survive very long at all. They are instead kept in farms and factories that simulate an environment closer to that of the planet's surface to allow them to generate the honey and wax that is used in cooking and crafts. The beekeeping industry is a difficult one, but honey is a very valuable commodity because of it.

How do I handle this then? Honeysides informs me that it will be fine, and they will supposedly retreat into the hives in the winter to stay warm so that I will not have to worry about them buzzing around the entrance to the dining hall and the apartment halls for long. What about next year? These things are terrible. They're loud, disturbing to look at, and they have venomous stingers simply for the purpose of suicide-attacking someone when they get the random whim that life is not worth living and they want to make someone else feel the same way as they off themselves. I hate these things, especially when they continue to fly into the living quarters and seek out food, or prey, or whatever it is those little pests think they are going to find in the dining hall. I keep asking Honeysides to remove the hives that show up outside of the area that I've designated for her beekeeping (east, within the walls of Springfield's farm, as he seems relatively happy to have them there), but then she tells me that it's just cruel to want to destroy their homes like that. Don't destroy it then, just move it! Cram it in one of the other hives or something! Heck, how about we just make some more hives to place over there if they need more space? Just get them out of where I have to walk and be each day!

Also, Honeysides has been in my room. I know this because some bees have gotten in there, and she is the only one who gets them repeatedly caught in her fur and mane when she is working with them outside during the day. What is she doing in there? And why is the scent of honey getting on my bed? I shudder to think of what that might mean, and I have to wash my sheets at least weekly right now just to feel comfortable sleeping in my quarters.

Back to the topic of the caravan, I believe that some of the goods they gave to us might be the cause of all of these new breakthroughs that individuals are so excited to show me. It is my belief that the herbs we purchased, medicinal or not, might be hallucinogenic or narcotic in some way. This must be what is leading these ponies to their multitude of epiphanies after they decide it might be a good idea to take a bite or have a taste of what the zebras had to offer.

Canary, one of our miners, recently made me a mug: Out of wood. At first I had considered this to be an asinine piece of craftsmanship, but I will admit to having the object grow on me as I've now been keeping it for personal use. It does not seem to condensate, so my papers no longer get damp when I forget something chilled in it on my desk, and it has started absorbing a few of the flavors of liquids I put into it. This makes water from it taste rather unappealing, but the occasional fruit juice or wine has become a very pleasant medley of tastes. The artwork adorning the sides is very cryptic and made out of chiseled stone, but still rather nice to look at when I find myself bored in the evenings.

The other main, notable breakthrough was by our new mechanic, Machina. The device she made is something she has been working on for a while. Using ingots from our silver stockpile, and combining it with a bar of something else (perhaps zinc or nickel) that was obtained from Bullion's caravan, she has created an alloy, and crafted a metal mechanism from it. Now the mechanism by itself is completely useless as all it does is swing a metal-headed hammer when one pulls the trigger, but truly the piece is absolutely fascinating. When I questioned if there was anything else like this anywhere in Equestria, she informed me that she did not think so, and that she had adapted quite a bit of engineering knowledge from her past to create it.

"The concept is that I am trying to make a safer, more easily reusable form of igniting a cannon. Cannons are used for all sorts of things like entertainment, defense, and there's even a company that manufactures cannons specifically for launching party favors and decorations at tall ceilings and hard-to-reach locations! I figured that using a lighter to ignite the propellant is really unsafe, and using a drawstring with a flint attachment is time-consuming to replace. This could eliminate both of those problems, and replace the lighter, or the string with just a simple trigger that will swing the spring-loaded hammer against flint and ignite the propellant inside the chamber."

I asked her afterwards if she might be able to part with the piece, as I would adore the chance to hold onto something like this. Looking at it, it reminds me of the firing mechanisms of relic, smoothbore firearms (the ones that collectors are always so fond of putting in their living rooms on special wall mounts to show off). She informed me that this was only meant to be a scale model of the actual contraption, which would be large enough to fit to a cannon, and that as soon as she made a schematic of it I was free to keep it if it meant so much to me. I may have to do a bit of thinking to come up with a way of fashioning a stock and barrel to attach this mechanism to so I can put a smoothbore relic of my own in my office; it would be interesting to be one of those collectors..

One last “creation” I wished to mention was Riverscar giving birth to another baby girl at the very beginning of the season. She is currently on maternity leave from her duties to care for the child, and I have informed her to take all the time she needs to ensure that the youngling will be taken care of. When she went into labor, it was a shocking time for most of us as we had no idea that she was even with child at the time (her muscular frame had done well to compress and hide any noticeable signs of pregnancy, making her just seem a bit bloated instead). When I caught wind of what was going on, I immediately requested of Springfield that he be present and use what knowledge he had to ensure a safe delivery. We lacked any way to properly weigh the baby, so there are no specifics I can give that are normally measured at the time of delivery, such as weight and actual size, but there is something that has left me quite perturbed about this whole scenario:

That baby is a unicorn.

Yes, the foal has a small nub on her head that I believe will one day break through the hide and prove to be a unicorn's horn. I am not quite sure of the genetics involved with determining the species of these ponies (unicorn, pegasus, or earth ponies), but realize that neither Riverscar nor Inutile happen to be a unicorn.

I'm not sure who the father of that baby is.

Up until now, I had been uneasily accepting what appeared to be Inutile haphazardly cheating on his wife with the other mares of Songring. This unicorn foal, however, leaves me with even more questions. It is still none of my business, so I cannot directly question them, but it honestly stumps me at times. What kind of relationship are they in exactly?

God damn bee is in my office.

There, now that I have taken care of that, back to my recordings. I also just read a bit of my last entry and feel it necessary to comment on.

Sometimes it is hit and miss with my CCMI's HPN protocols. You would think that if there was an airborne chemical that would lead to intoxication (or at least suppression of oxygen), it would be kind enough to give me a bit of warning? It seems not, however, because airborne fumes of ethanol and formaldehyde are not considered a hazard by the FBHD due to their clinical and domestic uses. Instead, I was not given a single warning as I was slowly being suffocated in that little room due to the building fumes, unaware that I was becoming delirious until I had a handsy (hoovesy?) pegasus drag me out of the location while I'm singing made-up pirate shanties about disemboweling ponies in the name of science.

Word spreads quickly around Songring, and it did not take long for all of the ponies to learn of how I butchered the remains of the piper. A few of the rumors were sort of entertaining, one of which stated that the piper was not actually dead, and we got into an epic struggle within the tomb. The conflict ended when I finally killed him by grabbing his head in my herculean arms and nearly snapped it right off his neck. (I just like the hyperbole of my physical capabilities in that one, especially since I was supposedly shirtless.) Others insist that I am a necromancer of sorts, and some rumors state that I simply went berserk and started slashing away at the corpse for my own amusement. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry, I suppose.

I would like to revisit that happening just once in this entry to wrap up a few final thoughts that I was too addled to write down at the time. The piper happens to be one of the species known as a deicidian pony, as has been confirmed to me by Dirtnap. He was able to inform me of quite a bit that is worth documenting, such as this deicidian pony is from a subspecies known as “Feral Ponies". It refers to the long-coated, predatory ponies of the inhospitable (and widely believed to be uninhabitable) arctic and tundra regions. Being a lone wanderer, this one is what settlement ponies call a "piper", which refers to their common practice of leading or stealing children away from settlements to consume them. (Quite fitting actually. All he was missing was a flute and some rats.) The feral ponies will only attack game that they believe they have a substantial advantage over, and as such, will only prey on children and small animals when they are alone and without the aid needed to attack adults or game animals.

I learned all of this when I went to personally apologize to Dirtnap for what had occurred in the tomb that night. I could understand why he was furious with me, and for more reasons than I probably realize. My conduct was inexcusable, even with the defense that I was accidentally intoxicated at the time. Dirtnap has accepted my apology, but still has yet to stop treating me with some scorn, and has also requested that the tomb be given its own locked door with him as the key holder. I will heed this request as soon as I can get the bolt installed on the door, if just to try to repair my image after that whole debacle.

I believe I will attempt to avoid some of these bees by heading to the new second story of the dining hall that has been completed. We decided to expand it upwards to create some new available seating for the ponies, as well as accommodate the needs of Absinthe, our alicorn bartender, so that she had more space on the first floor for her bar. I had Willow ask her for direction on how to build a suitable workstation, and we now have a professionally run bar for the ponies to visit during their breaks and on their days off. This may also allow me to manage exactly how much is being consumed on a regular basis. I will request of Absinthe that she supply me with a vague record from here on.

It is night now, but I felt compelled to return to this journal and write once again. I finally had a chance to speak with Absinthe, since I was wishing to vacate my office until sundown in hopes that the bees would go back to their hives for the night and I would not be victim to them anymore. I feel that perhaps her words are worth writing down.

It started when I wandered in with my journal tucked under my arm, wishing to keep it within eyesight in fear of insects getting into it or ponies getting a hold of it. I saw Absinthe speaking with Inutile at the bar: Him smiling with what I could estimate to be a seductive expression towards the bartender alicorn while she chuckled back and merely started pouring a drink to slide over the bar at him.

"Honey, please, you don't even have a clue how old I am. In my time, I've seen every shape and size you could offer; you couldn't possibly surprise me with your skill or your equipment." With that, I saw her notice me take my seat as far away from Inutile as possible, setting my journal down in front of me and looking over as their eyes fell on me curiously. "... Now he probably could," she added with a hoof pointed at me, causing Inutile to glance between the two of us and huff as he reached for his drink.

"He would be but an amateur," Inutile began in his thick accent, sipping idly from his mug as he looked me over while I stared back with a brow raised questioningly. I could not believe they were really discussing this - In front of me. "A dilettante at best! His kind may not even be capable."

"Not trying to hurt your pride, kiddo," Absinthe responded jovially, nodding with her head for Inutile to go ahead and take his leave back to another table in the dining hall. "Just saying, even if I was interested, he'd be a fair bit of competition for you."

"Feh! Competition with that? It would be a humiliation served to him, not a competition. You're simply trying to insult me now." With that, Inutile took her advice and started towards the tables.

"One of the things he's already got on you is that he's a real foreigner. You happen to just be imitation import."

With how he paused and let his mug hit the ground, I thought that Inutile might honestly come back and do or say something regrettable. To my surprise, he turned his head down and took a deep breath to calm himself, before making a strange gesture in the air with his hoof at Absinthe and leaving for the stairwell. On his way up, he muttered about the outrage of her claim, but did not lash out with anymore insults.

"So I heard you mention that you are quite wizened?" I immediately asked as the quiet started to settle at the bar, wishing to change the topic as soon as possible.

"Mmhm," she responded quickly and lightheartedly, sliding down the bar and folding her front legs on top of it in front of me with a smile. "That I am, Sweets. Several hundred years old… I wish I could give you a specific number, but afraid that after the first couple of centuries, you stop remembering the exacts."

"Fascinating," I responded, simply trying to stall for a moment to come up with an actual question and get over the shock. Several hundred years old? Are those Equestria years she's referring to? Even if that was so and she meant 500 as being several, she would be 250 Terriel years if my estimation of time differences is anywhere close to accurate. That's beyond the lifespan of even Equinyr who are notably long lived back on Terriel, and she seems to be far from geriatric at this time considering the healthy shine to her coat and the absence of any balding, gray hairs, or aching joints (I assume she does not have any with how fluid and graceful her movements are). "Been a bartender the whole time?" It was the only question that came to mind.

"That was pretty recent actually... Probably within the past couple of decades or so. Seems tough for some to believe."

"You think? The only alicorns I have witnessed have been royalty: Princess Celestia, of the Sun of Chance and Lady Nimbus, of the Sister of Clouds. I had come to imagine that with their quasi-deity nature, all alicorns must have some position of government," I admitted, refusing her quiet offer to pour something in a mug for me. I was simply there to escape the infestation.

"You're mostly right on that, but there are always outliers. I used to be a noble. The Chimed Glasses. I presided as their Duchess since they were first founded back in the year 674 of this age, until I left to do this. I wish I could remember the years fondly..."

"You prefer being a bartender over being a leader?"

"Sure do, Sugar. You see, I feel like I have a lot to offer in the way of words and advice, not to mention a few comforts now and then."

Skeptically, I had to ask her, "And you couldn't do that as their leader?"

With a chuckle, she shook her head and once again rested in front of me, lowering her neck to give me a confident glance-over. I personally was concerned about her long, pointed horn being so close to my face. "Tell me, Sweets, have you actually ever given advice around here?"

After a moment of thinking, I shrugged. "I believe I have. If nothing else, I've given helpful suggestions when I could."

"You see, nopony asks you for advice. They just want you to tell them what to do, right? What is there to learn in that? When you're a leader, everypony looks to you for an answer... but never asks for a reason or a lesson. You can fix their problems again and again, but unless you can give them advice or a lesson on how to solve it themselves... what will that pony do when you are no longer there to tell them the answer?" Absinthe smugly put her hoof around a mug, and placing another hoof wrapped inside a cloth within, began circling it around to clean and shine the interior, elbows still on the bar in front of me. "Well?"

"I hope they would use the common sense to think back to answers I had given them in the past and use those as precedence to make a sound decision at that time," I responded, folding my own arms over my notebook to shield it.

"Some you can believe that of. Others just never seem to be able to live up to those standards." With that, she nodded to me certainly. "Since they only look to a leader for answers, where do they go when they have problems but nopony to ask what to do?"

"That's genius," I admitted, finally coming to realize her logic. Maple is a prime example: When she has no way to resolve her own problems, she succumbs to the warming comfort of a stiff drink.

"They go to a bar. Well, some do, but if the problems are bad enough, eventually everypony will end up in one. Who better for them to lay their problems out for than the one working the counter? Ponies at rock bottom are usually willing to give their stories. I'm not their leader: They will not look to me for an answer; however... perhaps if I get them to believe I am their friend, they'll actually listen to my advice and learn something from it. So now it boils down to you: What's got under your skin, Hun? What brings you to the end of my bar?"

"Me?" I reiterated mindlessly. What was I doing there? "Nothing really. I just wanted to get away from my office for a while."

Absinthe stared me down quietly, a coy smile on her lips as I glanced around uncomfortably. "You sure that's all, Hun?"

"Pretty sure," I confirmed, clearing my throat as I stood up. "I am also sure that I should be fine for now. I should go see if Overcast is done with his... duties."

"Alright then, if you say so,” she paused, waiting for me to look up to her from my closed journal, "When you feel like talking about it, how about you come back? You should know where to find me."

Now I do know where to find her, that's true. I may perhaps take her up on her offer. She seems fairly certain I have problems she can help me with. I doubt it, but why not let her try. Some other time of course; For now, I must go make sure that my bed is free of intruders.