//------------------------------// // Fashion statement // Story: House of the Rising Sunflower // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// “Milord… Sire… you seem to have an owl on your noggin.” Somehow, while delivering this bit of news, Cucumber remained as dignified and polite as ever and announced this in much the same way he announced everything else. The elderly retainer paused for a time, cocked his head off to one side, and gave Sundance a piercing glare of intense concentration. “Am I to understand that Milord is attempting to start some new fashion of wearing an owl as a hat?” “Well,” Sundance replied while the pricking of tiny owl claws made his scalp tingle, “I don’t know anything about fashionable trends, Cucumber, but I do believe this makes me look quite, oh, I don’t know… lordly. What do you think, Cucumber?” “Oh, indeed, Sire… the Royals will all take up wearing owls as crowns, I figure. Never has there been a more lordly Milord.” The crotchety old retainer lifted his head for a better look, which caused his neck to pop and crackle. One eyebrow arched and after a bit of blinking, his stare gained some focus. “Milord, your owl looks like a pincushion.” “I’ll not have you speak foul of my owl!” “Milord, was that a pun?” Cringing, Cucumber shied away with a look of disgust smeared over his wrinkled, sagging visage. “In hindsight, it seems to be. Cucumber, tell me, my trusty retainer, what is on the schedule for today? What do we have planned? What greatness shall we accomplish?” “Schedule, Milord?” The withered, wrinkly unicorn appeared confused for a time. “Same thing that is on the schedule every day, Milord. We try to survive our lot in life. Very much like your little owl friend.” “Very well, let’s go do that then. Come, Cucumber, we have peasants to rouse.” “Sire, they were out of bed long before dawn, while you took the privilege to sleep in.” “Well, let’s do something, I’m bored.” The tower, though fallen, now served a new purpose. Its many stones now formed the foundation of the barony’s new runway, as well as some new paved paths. Sundance was quite pleased with this and he stood upon the high spire of rock where the tower had once been, surveying his holdings. Over the past few days since his return with Earwax, a change had come over his barony and his peasants. They seemed happier, eager to work, and morale had improved. The difference was noticeable. When the tower collapsed, a great many owls lost their home. Said owls were a great asset, as they ate the rodents that menaced the barony’s food supply. Quite a number of young owls were now out of their nests and forced to make their way in the world. One owl in particular, no doubt a late hatching, was not quite fit to join the other homeless juveniles and was now perched upon Sundance’s head. The Greater Equestrian Screaming Owl was the sort of creature that no sane pony would want the company of, but for whatever reason, Sundance couldn’t imagine his barony not having these storied owls. Why, with having a sulphurous musk heavy in the air and owls that randomly screamed bloody murder, his barony was a veritable paradise. Who wouldn’t want to live here? “Milord…” A somewhat winded elderly stallion with a deep purple pelt approached and Sundance struggled to remember. “Eggplant, right?” “Ah, yes, yes Milord.” The old feller bowed his head a bit. “Milord, ya seem to have an owl ‘tween yer ears.” “Indeed I do,” Sundance replied. “What brings you up here to this lofty vantage point, Eggplant?” “Seasonings, Milord.” “Seasonings?” Sundance now gave the matter his full attention, and when he brought his gaze to bear upon the elderly earth pony, there was a curious hoot from atop his head. “We have seed stock, Milord. Seasonings are wanted, right? They sell? We could be growing and selling. We have growers not growing. The last Milord didn’t want to grow and sell seasonings. I don’t know why. Some of us got together and talked about breaking new ground for seasonings. It’s effort well spent, Sire.” This struck Sundance as a good idea. There was an awful lot of standing about now that things were getting done. It occurred to him that he had a lot of labour—even if it was elderly labour—and suitable tasks were needed. Growing seasonings, spices, whatever, didn’t seem too arduous—it was something his peasants wanted to do, even—and it was something that could bring in some coin. “Milord, when I was young, I traded produce for the barony. I was good at it. I miss those days, Sire. I’m old, but I still have the know-how.” “We must return to those days, Eggplant. See to it that we grow spices and seasonings again. I trust in your wisdom. Break as much ground as needed and plant just enough. Don’t overwhelm us.” “Aye, Milord.” Right away, Eggplant turned about and shuffled off, mumbling something to himself. From the owl, there was a final hoot goodbye. The new runway was level, with packed sand and clay smoothing out the slope. It’s bulk was supported with a crude but effective retaining wall that ran its entire length, created with stones from the fallen tower. It was a good runway, if a little rough. Like everything else in the barony, it would have to do. Torches daubed with pitch had been placed along its length, and could be lit at a moment’s notice by Cucumber. A landing at night would be… interesting, to say the very least. With the runway and the sky truck, Sundance would be able to move goods in and out of the barony. The peasants were none too keen on the idea of the Milord hauling goods—some of them were quite upset by the very notion—but for the barony to live and thrive again, trade had to be established. Floodgate had even gone through the trouble to ensure that the runway had proper drainage. Hoe Hum and Lamp Black were planting flowers so that the runway could have a bit of colour. The peasants seemed excited about having a connection to the outside world and Sundance imagined that this must be a hopeful, exciting time for everypony. “Milord, there’s an owl on yer brain box.” “I hadn’t noticed, Kant Apfel,” he replied while trying to keep a straight face. “Milord, I came to talk to you about the owls.” Striking a dramatic pose, Sundance gave the mare his full attention. As it turned out, the peasants had a lot to say when one bothered to listen. They had ideas of how this place should be run, good ideas, ideas that were most certainly an improvement over the current state of affairs. Kant Apfel, though completely uneducated, was as sharp as a tack. “Milord, our orchard is overrun with pests and has been for a long time. We get very little from our trees.” Sundance brought to mind what he knew. Cucumber had told him that there was a bit of a rivalry between Birnen Streusel and Kant Apfel. The orchard grew much, but almost everything was lost to birds and rodents. Getting the orchards producing again was a top priority, as was the bee project, because sulphured honey was worth an alchemist’s fortune. “We need an owlery, Milord.” “A what?” Sundance had never heard the word before. “An owlery. A place for owls. If we build them a home, they’ll eat the pests. The owl is our symbol. Or it was. When I was young, the barony was decorated with owls everywhere. Owls and sunflowers, Milord. It’s all gone now. The last Milord destroyed everything with his tantrums. Birnen says it pained the Milord to remember our glory days. Birnen ain’t right about much, but he’s right about that.” “Owls, you say. Owls everywhere.” Sundance thought about the tiny owl perched on top of his head. There were worse creatures to symbolise a barony. Owls and sunflowers. What would Princess Celestia have to say about this? Could past glory be the way forward? Yes, he decided. “Begin construction of an owlery. Owleries. I want one in the orchard and I want one here, where our crops are.” Kant Apfel seemed pleased, but said nothing in response. Instead, she nodded and then took off in an excited hurry, but did her best to look as though she wasn’t in an excited hurry. Sundance watched her go and there was a faint hoot from the owl perched atop his head, a hoot that surely was approval. He had no idea what an owlery was, or how one was constructed, but he imagined them to be just really big bird houses. Giant bird houses. Owl mansions, perhaps? So the owl was once the symbol of the Sunfire Barony. What were those symbolic animals called again? There was name for it, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Being a baron, it was his job to know these things and asking around seemed detrimental to his good standing. Perhaps a flag was in order; yes, a flag with an owl clutching sunflowers. There was an alarmed hoot from the owl on his head, followed by an ear-piercing, blood curdling scream. As bad as this was, it was made worse by the fact that the screaming owl was sitting right between his ears. The Greater Equestrian Screaming Owl truly, truly lived up to their name and Sundance regretted allowing the wee owlet to roost there. He glanced about, trying to discover the cause for alarm, and felt sharp claws poking his scalp as the owlet made a desperate attempt to hold on. After glancing about in all directions, he saw what had caused his owl so much alarm. A paper bird was flying right for him. It was an origami paper swan, just like the ones he had seen made in school, though he had never made one. It was flying right for him, its paper wings flapping, and he marvelled, slack-jawed at the sight. Magic of any sort was a wondrous thing for him and this, this was extraordinary magic indeed. The origami bird flew right into his nose, poking him, and he jerked his head back hard enough to cause his owl to wobble. Again, tiny claws gripped his scalp and Sundance whinnied from the painful pricks as the paper swan unfolded itself right before his very eyes. He saw letters on the paper, fine, flowing script, and before the paper fell to the ground, he snatched it with his wing so that he might have a better look. Dear Lord Sundance: Hitch up to your wagon and hurry at once to your train depot! Time is of the essence as your delivery will arrive within the hour after you receive this. I am trusting you because Princess Celestia trusts you, and she says that I should give you a chance. So after much deliberation, I have chosen to do so. Do not disappoint me. An explanation is forthcoming, I promise, but now is the time for action, not explaining. Why are you standing there, reading this? I told you to hurry! Best regards, Lady Twilight Velvet Standing there, still looking at the letter that had just delivered itself, Sundance said to the owl perched upon his head, “Worry not, little one. I’m going to leave you with Cucumber. Maybe he can zap something for you to eat. It seems I have to go pick up a parcel of some kind at the train depot. Better hurry, it seems.” Dark clouds loomed over the Everfree, but they seemed disorganised and scattered—at least for now. The potential for a storm existed and Sundance kept one wary eye on the weather as he flew southward. Some time ago during his flight, he realised that there was no runway at the train depot and this was something that would need to be fixed at some point in the future. Pulling a sky truck felt good. The exercise was welcome and flying allowed him to clear his head. There was a lot to think about, plans to make, and a good fly cleared the mind like nothing else. Hauling goods seemed like an excellent way to hustle up some bits on the side, especially now that he had an account set up for him. Perhaps establishing himself as a courier would be a good idea. He had the wagon, the means, he had plenty of spare time, and he had a barony that was in desperate need of funds. It could be seen as a good diplomatic move as well, he reckoned. If he made deliveries to other fiefdoms, he could get to know his fellow lords and ladies. Surely they had goods to move. Doing so would familiarise him with the land and local customs. He had to make friends—not just friends for himself, but his barony needed friends. Allies. Yes… starting a delivery service seemed ideal. It seemed as though he was a bit off when he saw the train depot off to his left. Banking, he began his descent. As he dropped down, his wings slicing through the sky, he felt a gentle push of wind, which had shifted directions and was now blowing northward. Squinting, he eyeballed the dark clouds over the Everfree and watched as the wind shoved them in his direction. Flying home, he might have a bit of a tailwind, but he might also have a storm.