//------------------------------// // Retail therapy // Story: House of the Rising Sunflower // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// The bank had a terrifying austerity that left Sundance breathless. Other banks he had seen were opulent places that showcased wealth. This place? This was a Crown-sponsored bank for the nobles. It was a fortress—with a stark, bare interiour. Not a hint of gold filigree anywhere to be seen. No expensive rugs. No marble counters. Guards wore armor with a subdued, matte finish. No chandeliers hung overhead. “Can we help you?” a middle-aged mustachioed unicorn asked. “Yes? I think?” Sundance wondered if he looked like a tourist, because he felt that out of place. “My name is Sundance. An account was supposed to be set up for me. Two accounts, from my understanding. I am the Baron of the Sunfire Barony.” “Ah yes.” The unicorn had a gentle voice that did not fit in with his surroundings. “I was told to expect you and that I was to keep an eye out for your arrival. My name is Pevensey. If you will come with me, I will be happy to help you, young Baron.” “Uh, Sundance will do.” “Of course. Young Baron Sundance.” Pevensey bowed his head. “Everywhere I go, ponies keep doing this to me. Always with the titles.” “Of course, Sire. The very best of us, we have a solemn obligation to take every possible opportunity to remind you of your position of public service. You have given the entirety of your existence for the betterment of society.” The unicorn’s mustache contorted a bit near the corners of his mouth as a solemn frown spread across his muzzle. “You serve others, so I am honoured to serve you, Sire.” “I never thought of it that way,” Sundance remarked. Pevensey’s office was a bit warmer, a bit more inviting. A sensible wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, some wooden filing cabinets, a lamp with a stained-glass shade sat on one corner of the desk, and the furniture was upholstered in a dark, somewhat sombre paisley print. At least, as dark and sombre as paisley could be. Sundance wondered if paisley would ever go out of style. As for Pevensey himself, the unicorn now wore silver wire reading glasses and was reading something kept inside of a pale blue folder. Sundance wondered what he was reading, but was too polite to interrupt. Clearly, whatever it was, it had to be important, otherwise there would be no point in reading it. “The worth of your personal, protected account is one-thousand, two-hundred, and thirty-seven gold bits.” Sundance suppressed a cough and then replied, “That’s a bit higher than I expected. I was expecting a thousand even.” With the soft rustle of paper brushing together, the folder closed and was placed upon Pevensey’s desk. The fastidious unicorn pressed his front hooves together, his thoughtful frown intensified, and he peered at Sundance over the top edge of his reading glasses. After a moment, the unicorn pulled his glasses off and rubbed just below his right eye with his right hoof. “You have a significant amount of debt, Baron Sundance.” “Yeah, I know.” Sundance found that he could no longer look the banker in the eye, and he stared at the wall just behind Pevensey instead. “If I may ask… what is it that you plan to do with these private funds?” The solemn unicorn cleared his throat and then continued, “This is not a question I ask lightly. Under normal circumstances, I would never make such an inquiry. I am mortified that I am required to stick my nose into your business in such a manner.” Nodding, Sundance sighed. “I understand. I plan to use my private account to run the barony. There’s a lot that needs done. To do that, I need money. Like today, I plan to buy stuff that is needed. Toys, books, dry goods, sundries. Whatever I can think of to make life pleasant for the ponies I’m responsible for.” “I see.” Pevensey’s voice was little more than a whisper at this point. “Commendable, young Baron Sundance. It is my most sincere regret that I must inform you that I must monitor your spending. It pains me to do so, as you seem like a pleasant enough fellow. Since you seem to be honest and forthright, I have decided to be upfront with you. If I may… I would very much like to see you succeed.” Sundance didn’t know what to say. He made himself look Pevensey in the eye and he studied the unicorn’s face, trying to read some measure of understanding from what he saw. Not much could be read; Pevensey’s face was a professional mask and his eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts. Even his frown was now a straight line hidden beneath his mustache. “Would you like to make a withdrawal to cover your expenses today? We offer several options… bank notes, hard currency, checks… even a financial note with funds matched to your account that only remains valid for one day. I am told it makes it easier to come to town to purchase supplies. Quite popular with a lot of the young nobles. Just show the slip of paper to the vendor and everything is taken care of.” “That sounds ideal. I think I’ll try that.” “Very good, Sire. The financial note will self-destruct as the sun goes down. I’ll have it drawn up immediately.” Something clunked around inside of Sundance’s cargo crates, but he didn’t know what it was, nor did he feel like stopping to have a look. Opening the crates would require more effort than he was willing to expend right now, such as finding a parking spot and then undoing the brass latches. Both crates fit together in the sky truck almost like puzzle pieces, forming a perfect five foot cube that had a snug fit in the bed of the cart. “Live! Tonight! Esmeralda Verde sings! Get yer tickets now before the show sells out!” The streets were crowded with ponies, many of whom wore weapons. For Sundance, this came as a bit of a shock, but he didn’t stand there gawping like some slack-jawed tourist. The cobblestones beneath his hooves caused his cart to rattle and clunk as he made his way through the congested, narrow streets. “Tonight only! Esmeralda Verde! Sapphire Shores’ beloved protégé! Get yer tickets here!” Casting his gaze from side to side, he kept an eye out for a toy store and a parking space. He was likely to find one—but not the other. That was the real trouble with pulling a wagon in a city like Canterlot. Parking was in short supply. Being unfamiliar with this city, he wasn’t sure what the local parking regulations were, and the last thing he needed was to be fined. Then, he saw the sign. Ye Olden Canterlot Shoppin’ Block: Ten Floors of Store! Free Parking! You’ll Lose Your Head Over Our Great Prices! It couldn’t hurt to have a look. It was less a store and more an indoor promenade filled with stalls, carts, small shops, and vendors hawking their wares. Two towers stood side by side, with bridges connecting them at various points, and there were five floors each. It was a shopping mall entirely unique to Canterlot, rising upward rather than expanding outward. The bottom floors were devoted to food, impulse buys, and a porter service of helpful ponies willing to haul your goods down multiple floors and out to your wagon. Sundance didn’t know where to begin. After a moment of thoughtful consideration, he decided to hunt for pillows, or a cushion. Something soft, but also rugged. He had the crate and now he needed the cushions to bring his clever plan to fruition. Of course, he needed other things, so if he saw those, he could stop to have a look. But pillows seemed like a good start. Looking around, he realised that this would not be a good place to find expedition-sized bricks of tea. He’d need another store for that, he reckoned. But he did spy candy. Lots of candy. It was everywhere, and, of course it was. This was the ground floor, the place where impulse buys lived. And then, as he stood in one spot, turning his head about, he saw them. Flight goggles. An entire wooden rack of flight goggles of every conceivable fashion. Smoked glass goggles, no doubt for the night terrors of Canterlot. Goggles with leather straps, for the bold and the fearless. There were visored goggles, with little visors that extended out over the top of the eye, and he was a bit dubious about the practicality of those. Since he planned to take a job—tomorrow, in fact—he decided that some goggles were a priority. He had to protect his eyes and his old goggles were at home, sitting in the bottom of his trunk. Shuddering, he tried not to think about what else was in his trunk. Or how his mother might be looking at it. It was not yet noon and already, so much had been accomplished. He had new goggles, some books, some toys, a long cushion that he knew would fit the five-foot length of a cargo crate, and some pillows as well. There was also the candy; so much candy, enough for everypony. Who didn’t like sweets? After he stowed his newly purchased goods in one of the cargo crates, he had himself a look into the one that rattled. It was dark in there, so he threw open the lid and almost crawled inside. Down in the bottom of the crate, which had the strong, pleasing scent of cedar, he found a half-dozen javelins. Each was a yard long, made of steel, and had strong steel tips on both ends. With them was a scrap of paper, which he had a bit of trouble fishing out. After a few failed attempts, he managed to scoot it into a corner with his primaries and then he scooped it out. Half-in and half-out of the crate, he read aloud the words scribbled on the wrinkled yellow paper, which appeared to be part of some sort of wrapper. “Don’t go getting eaten. The mountains beyond your barony are full of danger. Learn to fight. Scram.” Backing himself out of the crate, he wiggled free and landed on his hooves. Standing beside the sky truck, he said to himself, “Well, that was thoughtful.” He thought about the javelins and it occurred to him that these weren’t toys. These were weapons. Something for killing. What would his mother say? Mindful that he did not litter, he tossed the scrap of paper back into the crate and then set about closing everything. There were a lot of latches to secure, and each closed with a satisfying metallic clunk of brass against brass. Grinning, he admired the crate, and thought about how wonderful of a sleeping box it would make now that he had a few cushions. Maybe tonight, he’d be comfortable, and if he was really lucky, he’d be warm, too. The crate was just about the right size. Perhaps a bit snug, but a small space was easier to heat. He would stand it up, just like it was right now, and keep the bottom lid latched into place. The top lid he would leave unlatched, so he could push it open from inside and get out. It was a good size, or so he thought, being five feet long, five feet high, and two and a half feet wide. Just thinking about it left him excited to go to bed. Château Nouveau was alive with upset and it didn’t take Sundance very long to discover why. Ponies were reacting to the fact that the Dominator, Lady Pebble Pie, had been knocked from her lofty perch by one Lord Sterling Standard, of Sterling Gulch. Now there was almost a festive mood of sorts, for reasons that Sundance didn’t quite understand. All of this was still so new to him that he didn’t fully grasp the various ins and outs. It was easy to feel like an outsider; he remembered that he probably stunk of rotten eggs, and had been that way all day. Why, that might explain some of his interactions while shopping. Yet, nopony had made him feel unwelcome. He was just sort of there, a face in the crowd. “You look troubled.” Turning to face the pony addressing him, Sundance found himself eye-to-neck with a much taller stallion. Lean, with a few noticeable scars, the tall fellow was the colour of a fine glass of whiskey, perhaps, or some reddish-brown liquor. He also had something of a stink about him, something that was almost very like an open sewer. Though faint, it was definitely there and couldn’t be ignored. “I was just… well, I don’t know what I was doing, to be honest. I don’t know if I fit in here.” There was something almost effeminate in the tall stallion’s expression as his lips formed a thoughtful pucker. Yes, as his expression intensified, there was something unmistakably feminine about him, and this left poor Sundance a bit mystified. Combined with the scars and the confident bearing, the tall stallion presented quite a confusing puzzle to figure out. “Most of us here… we’re here because we don’t fit into society at large,” the tall, thin stallion said. “There’s just no other place for us, and somehow, we end up here. We’re the thinkers, the rabble-rousers, the eccentrics, the showponies, the grifters with golden hearts… we’re fighters, some of us, and others are pacifists. For whatever reason, we didn’t quite fit in with the rest of society, and, unlike those who settled to the bottom, we rose to the top.” “Did we?” Sundance asked. “I’d like to think that we did. Look around you.” The tall fellow tossed his head back, whipping his mane away from his face, and he gestured at the room around him. “Tell me, are these not the best of ponies? Look at the thankless work we do. Look how we labour to benefit society. Freaks, dweebs, eggheads, weirdos… all united with a common cause.” In silence, Sundance studied his earth pony companion. “I wasn’t born a noble…” The tall earth pony’s voice had softened a bit, but still had a fire to it. “In fact, I was born just about as far from nobility as a pony could get. I came to Canterlot one day, and it was awkward. I didn’t fit in at all. I didn’t talk right, or act right, and I was basically a hick. A lot of things happened. A whole lot of things happened. Bad things.” Blinking, the tall fellow shook his head. “My friend became a noble because of necessity, and he was terrible at it. Sadly, it didn’t suit him at all. He’s single-minded, he is, and he is quite focused on what he does best. For reasons I’ll never understand, I took to the nobility like a duck takes to water. They embraced me and made me one of their own. I did my best to be charming… I’m told I have a quaint southern charm… and I more or less just tried to treat everypony how I wished to be treated. It’s got me this far.” “If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” “Oh, gracious!” The tall fellow let out a groan. “We’ve met before. Sort of. You crashed just outside the hospital. I’m Hennessy. My husband, Flicker, he sponsored you. The two of us were quite taken when we heard your story. It’s touching, really. We’re big fans of dedication and effort, he and I.” “Say… you wouldn’t happen to know where I can find an expedition outfitter here in Canterlot, would you? I need bulk goods. Tea, mostly. I need to haul a wagonload of civilisation out to my barony.” “As it just so happens, I know just the place. It’s by the docks. But you’ll need me to get you through the front door. They have a strict introduction system… it’s a sort of club… of sorts. They don’t sell to just anybody, but to actual adventurers. Rough and tumble types. Actual expeditions. They also sell the finest teacups and tea sets in all of Canterlot.” A blank stare overtook Sundance’s face as what he just heard didn’t make sense to him. “Rustic, the proprietor, he makes this marvellous floral-scented mustache wax… I swear, it’s like having your nose stuck in a flower patch all day… and it doubles as a fantastic lube. The heat and friction leaves everything smelling flowery.” Fearing that he might say something the wrong way and cause offense, Sundance nodded. It wasn’t that he had anything against being gay; far from it. For a time, he suspected that he might have been gay—and truth be told, still did, even with his attraction to certain types of mares. These were issues that he had never bothered to sort out and the evidence of curiousity rested in the bottom of his trunk in the form of a very confusing porn stash. Which his mother had no doubt seen by now.