"Are you ready for your trial, acolyte?"  The elder stallion asked with ritualistic solemnity.

"I am, Brother Inkwell."  The cowled acolyte replied, his voice barely quivering as he responded.

This was his First Trial. The first of many, if he choose to continue down this path, for none passed on their first attempt.  But the First was the most important, for it separated out those who misunderstood their cutie marks from those for whom The Work was destiny.

"Know you the Place and the Name of all things, Acolyte?"

"No Brother, for not even the First knows all, and I am merely equine. But I have studied, Brother, and I am willing to learn."  The words were practiced; rote memorization and repetition.  But they held an underlying Truth that could not be denied.

"Have you the proscribed implements, Acolyte?"

"I have them, Brother, for I have followed the Checklist.  My quills are sharp, my ink fresh, and my paper blank."  The weight of the saddlebags on his back, and his surety as to what they held, brought a calmness to his soul.  A completed checklist was truly a beautiful thing.

"Then the time of your Trial is upon us.  None may know when a Trial will come, so All must be ready to face it.  Know that you do not face this Trial alone.  The Brothers and Sisters of The Order stand ready to replace you when you fall."  Brother Inkwell's stern visage reinforced the power of his words.  "And you WILL fall.  For none but the First can endure the tempest alone.  But we all must try, for only by striving for the impossible will we learn what we are truly capable of."

"I understand Brother, and stand ready to earn my place in the Order."  The weight of the moment pressed down upon him, making his knees wobble.  And reciting the contents of the Assistant's Checklist could only calm his racing heart so much.

"Very well then Acolyte.  Stand beside me and prepare to face your Trial."  

The thick crystalline door thrummed with power, a faint glow leaking around the edges.  He swallowed nervously as he stood before them, his hooves rooted in place.

The unexpected sensation of a hoof on his shoulder had him turning in surprise.

"Don't worry lad.  This one is barely a level two.  You'll make it through ok."  Brother Inkwell whispered, giving him a small smile.

That was NOT part of the ceremony.  But despite the deviation from the script, the Brother's action warmed his heart and strengthened his resolve.

With a firm nod he stepped forward, pushed the door open...

And found himself drawn into a maelstrom.

"Where is Starswirls Treatsie on Harmonic Interferences in Chaotic Matricies?? I need to cross-reference it with Des-Cart-Ease Complete Works!"

In a flash of purple magic, the cowled figure was drawn inside, and the doors to the library slammed shut.

[Hr]

"Purple.  The purple glow... Purple everywhere!"  The fevered mutterings of Acolyte Bookkeeper were clearly audible despite the dozen hoofsteps and half a dozen Brothers and Sisters between them.

Brother Inkwell shook his head sadly.  The Trials could be harsh.  But they were necessary to sift the wheat from the chaff.  Only those truly suited to the work would become Brothers and Sisters in the Order of Royal Library Assistants.

"The books!  So [I]many[/i] books!"  The fevered ranting quieted as the Acolyte was tended to.  "Harmony Throughout History, I can't remember where it's shelved.....!"  he cried, his anguished mutterings finally trailing off.

A looming shadow and the creak of leathery wings heralded the arrival of the Order's founder and patron.

"Is he going to be okay?" The voice was deep, strong, and caring as Brother Inkwell turned to face its source.

"The first encounter with the Princess in the throes of a Research Meltdown is always hardest." He said solemnly.

Spike just rolled his eyes and snorted.

"She's not THAT bad, Ink.  Heck, I managed to handle her even before my wings grew in!"

"As you say Grandmaster.  But we are merely mortal equines."  He replied, smiling gently.

"You're way too melodramatic is what you are." He grumbled, mumbling to himself.  "I never should have let Rarity talk me into founding you guys..."

His muttering was interrupted by distant voice:

[I]"Spike!  Where is Solemn Works Treatsie on..."[/i]

"Third bookcase from the right Twilight! Second shelf, third book from the left!" He interrupted without pause.

Rockwell smiled.  It was always an honor, watching the grandmaster work.