[i]Submitted for your consideration: The town of Ponyville. At first glance, just a sleepy suburb lying in the shadow of Canterlot. Smaller homes, smaller businesses, smaller princess. But it is that princess and her friends who embody what makes this little village so unique. Indeed, because of her, you might even call this place… the Twi—[/i] “Uncle Rod! You said you wanted to get away from work!” Sterling Rod blinked, looked down, and smiled. “And now you see why, Spoony. It’s a hard habit to break.” “What do you even do?” Diamond Tiara frowned at his cutie mark, a silver presentation pointer pointed at a landscape. “I am a Narrator,” said the earth stallion. Silver nodded and beamed. “The number-two Narrator in all of Equestria!” Diamond rolled her eyes. “I’ll never understand your family’s weird obsession with only ever being second-best.” “It’s like it says on our coat of arms. [i]Nos conantur magis[/i].” “‘We try harder,’” said Rod. He took on a distant look, his voice a steady cadence. “As Argentum Avis famously declared when—“ Silver Spoon rolled her eyes. “Uncle Rod, nopony wants to hear [i]that[/i] story.” Rod chuckled. “In any case, given who number one is, it’s quite the accomplishment.” “What do narrators even [i]do[/i]?” said Diamond. “Just tell stories all the time?” “We help the world. Weatherponies help the rain fall. Farmers help plants grow. Narrators help stories get told.” “Isn’t that what I said?” Rod shook his head. “Not quite. There’s a lot of magical theory and philosophy behind it.” “But it’s [i]totally[/i] important!” said Silver. Rod nodded. “They say the first and greatest Narrator of all is Princess Celestia herself. She established all of Equestria, describing the whole world into being. In the beginning—” Silver nudged him. “No stories about stories, Uncle Rod. You said those never end well.” “There’s an exception now and again, but that’s true for the most part.” He smiled and ruffled her mane. “Thanks for keeping me on the straight and narrow, Spoony.” Diamond Tiara bore a thoughtful look. “Who said all that, anyway?” “Oral tradition.” Both fillies groaned. “Are you taking us to Sugarcube Corner or not?” said Diamond. “All right, all right.” Rod lit a cigarette, a complicated maneuver that involved juggling the pack and a hoof-lit match that he performed with the ease of long habit. Neither filly quite saw where he put the pack afterwards; it couldn’t have been his mane, close-cropped as it was. Of course, both were Ponyvillains. They’d seen far stranger, and that was just last week. “Mom says smoking’s a filthy habit,” said Silver Spoon. Rod shrugged. “She’s right, but somepony’s got to keep the tobacco farmers employed.” Diamond Tiara wrinkled her muzzle. “Why?” “Well, it’s a funny story—“ “No, Uncle Rod.”