With a good night’s sleep, the days were easier to face now, and the dawns seemed far more glorious. There was a sense of momentum now, of purpose, of building up to something; though whatever that something was, it remained unknown. It seemed as though each good day prepared the barony for a better day, and Sundance was determined to keep the good days going.
Lemongrass’ cutie mark seemed to be some sort of rallying cry, affecting everypony in some way, igniting some shared sense of purpose. The colt now followed Cucumber almost everywhere and the old retainer walked with a spring in his step. Was it nice to have another unicorn around? Probably. Sundance couldn’t imagine what it was like to have been alone for so long. Though Sundance doubted that Cucumber would ever talk about it. Some ponies spoke a great deal of unity and breaking down tribal barriers; Cucumber on the other hoof, lived it. One unicorn, alone among earth ponies, Cucumber was careful to never lord himself over them and treated them with the utmost respect. At least, when he wasn’t snarky. But snark was expected, demanded even, and was possibly proof of true equality.
Sundance tried to live by his retainer’s example, and hoped that Lemongrass would do so as well.
“You know, Owlister, with each passing day, you look less like a mutant cactus and more like a fuzzy something-or-other. Soon, you’ll look like an owl.”
The owl’s silence was all the response that Sundance deserved.
“I had a dream last night, Owlister,” he said, continuing his conversation with his sleepy companion. “I dreamt of the pegasus ponies who hunted with the wolves and ate meat. Grandmother told me stories. Together, they were allies and they battled the evil wargs. Ponies think wolves are evil, because sometimes, wolves eat ponies… I guess. But they’re just wild animals and wild animals do what they do. But wargs… wargs are real evil. They talk, they plan, and they hunger for pony flesh. At least, that is what Grandmother said. For wargs to keep their smarts, for them to keep talking, they have to eat magical creatures. They’re magic-eaters. I don’t think they exist any more.”
Closing his eyes, Owlister appeared to go to sleep.
“I’ll never be a warrior, fighting wargs, and I certainly won’t have a pack of wolves. Those days of tall tales are done, I suppose. But I’ll have a flock of owls… and we’ll wage a war against pests and the like. That’ll be grand. Not much to tell a story about, and certainly nothing that will ever be remembered throughout the ages, but some of us have to aspire for humbler things. If all of us aspired for great things, then the little things would never get done. Heroes come and go, but us humble types are what keeps society going. I could never slay a warg, but give me a pen, some paper, and a hot cuppa, and I can get stuff done. That’s how I got this barony. I can face the boring stuff that would put most ponies to sleep.”
Owlister let out an annoyed hoot, and then, like a tiny, fuzzy accordion, he pulled his head down almost into his body in the way that owls do, becoming a short, squat, lump. Then, the tiny owlet’s beak made a grinding sound.
“Fine, fine… I get the hint. No bedtime stories for you. I’ll see that you get fed in a few hours. Pleasant dreams, Owlister… it’s weird, but somehow I know you dream…”
The terraced plots were perhaps the most interesting aspect of Sundance’s barony. Down in the box canyon, the walls got most of the light, while the ground only got direct sunlight during the hours around noon. But with the terraced walls, during the early morning hours the western canyon wall was bathed in glorious sunlight, and in the afternoon, the eastern canyon wall had its turn.
Water was supplied by the waterfall in the very back of the box canyon, and flowed through channels carved into the stone. A fine, somewhat sulphurous mist kissed everything with moisture, and this came from the icy-cold waters of the waterfall falling into the steaming-hot waters of the boiling spring basin. Said basin was the perfect place for a quick dip, being bathwater-hot. The overflow from the basin watered everything and the excess waters were directed elsewhere to prevent flooding.
It was, overall, a brilliant system, one where the land provided for its own needs.
Sundance doubted that an urban environment could be as efficient, but he was ignorant of such things. Cities were odd places, where food had to be hauled in. Water came from outside sources beyond the boundaries of the city. But here? The land provided and there was a sort of balance, though Sundance had no idea at what point the balance would go bust if the population increased. At what point would he have to look beyond his own borders to provide for the needs of the ponies who lived here?
It was something that made him have a profound think.
“Sky boat.” Potato seemed quite alarmed and stood with her head cocked off to one side. “Sky boat. Invaders incoming.” Then, without further ado, Potato made herself scarce and began herding the livestock to safety, bleating and mooing at them to motivate them into moving. “Sky boat! Baa-aa-aah!”
Sundance watched her for a time, distracted, and then turned his eyes skyward. He saw nothing, but kept peering about, trying to spot whatever it was that Potato had seen that had left her in such a distressed state. It was difficult though, because the wall-eyed mare was mooing, and it was impossible to take anything seriously while a wall-eyed pony went mooing about like a distraught cow.
Then, after searching the wide-open sky for a bit, he spotted a faint speck in the distance, something on the far-off horizon that might be a ‘sky boat’ or might be a bird—it was impossible for him to tell. He held out his hoof, and then lined up his sight for reference, a trick his mother had taught him. Nope, too far away. Still holding his hoof out, he glanced at Potato and wondered how she knew.
Yes, the speck was moving closer, becoming a bit larger, but it was impossible to tell what it was. From his lofty perch upon the promontory rock where the tower once stood, he had a good view of things—but realised that Potato, who was down below in the canyon, did not have the same field of view that he did. How did she know? Squinting, he looked down at her while she escorted some goats into the cave-barn directly below him.
Spreading his wings, Sundance took flight.
The ‘sky boat’ was an airship, though calling it an airship was charitable. It was more of a rowboat really, hung below a nacelle. It wasn’t a large craft, nor was it fast, but it seemed perfect for short jaunts. Standing in the floating boat was a dusky yellow unicorn that Sundance recognised right away, even at a distance.
Turmeric had come out to scout locations.
Though somewhat small, the craft did have twin airscrews for stability and a deployable set of sails. Not bothering to flap, Sundance rode the updrafts and approached with a smooth, effortless glide. He could see Turmeric’s mane whipping in the breeze and one hoof waved in greeting. A sort of subdued excitement settled over Sundance; today, work would get accomplished, at least in the form of planning.
Banking a bit, he corrected his course so he could come in for a smooth landing, which meant no tailwinds or side gusts. As he drew closer, he heard the chuffing clatter of some unknown engine. It didn’t belch out clouds of black smoke, so it didn’t burn coal, which was nice. It was quite visible, this engine, and had a large spinning flywheel made of brass.
Angling his primaries, he made his final approach.
Turmeric surprised him with a hug, which Sundance wasn’t expecting, not at all. Not just any hug either, but a warm, affectionate hug that left him a little confused, as it was quite unlike anything that he was used to. It took him several moments of collecting his senses before he wrapped a wing around the enthusiastic hug-happy unicorn to return the affectionate gesture.
“I’m excited,” Turmeric announced while squeezing Sundance’s neck. The unicorn, almost the same colour as his namesake, got in one last good squeeze before pulling away. “Rustic is excited too. He said that everything about this feels right and I’m inclined to agree.”
In silence, Sundance stood there, unsure of how to respond. The hug had thrown him off guard and there was a confusing delightfulness about it. Turmeric had a pleasant sturdy softness to him, along with a enticingly feminine floral scent that clung to him even in the strong breeze. All of this, along with the hug, left Sundance more than just a little bit befuddled.
Then, before Sundance could recover, Turmeric made a bold move and began spritzing him with fragrant, aromatic perfume. It was girly, heady, a bit sneezy, and wonderful to breathe in. Did it hide the stench of rotten eggs? Sundance had no idea. Still befuddled, confused, and out of sorts, Sundance did nothing when Turmeric lifted each wing and did a bit of spritzing.
“Normally, floral scents are bug magnets, but this is specially formulated. It keeps away bitey bugs, blood suckers, fleas, ticks, and mosquitoes. It’s my own creation and it’s become a best-seller. There’s this divine fashionista and she buys it by the crate. Her name’s Rarity. Heard of her? Sometimes, she uses me as a clothes rack to showcase warm, bold colours and I don’t mind a bit.”
Sundance, now slightly damp, stood with the wind ruffling his rather scruffy blue mane.
“There’s drinks in the cooler,” Turmeric said, pointing at the cooler. “Make yourself at home. It feels nice to gab. It really does feel nice to gab. To have a new friend. I feel safe around you. It’s a relief.”
“Safe?” Sundance repeated the word while one eyebrow lifted.
Turmeric’s tail tucked between his legs and he stood there, awkwardly staring at the bottle of perfume. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood, I’m sorry. When I feel safe, I just blab everything out, all the stuff I hold inside my head that I don’t dare talk about with most ponies. I don’t feel safe around most stallions… they either want to smash me on account of how I am, or, well, you get the idea. Some things don’t change no matter the gender, you know? Big aggressive males are still big aggressive males, no matter which way they swing. I’m seen as a girl, I’m treated like a girl, and even in our, um, community? Yes, community, that’s a fitting word, there are less than enlightened attitudes. So when I feel safe and secure, I really, really appreciate it.”
“Oh.” Sundance tried to make himself relax a bit, but failed.
Turmeric’s eyes darkened and his expression became a bit troubled as he said, “I have some issues with being assertive, as I’ve mentioned. Normally, I’d be terrified to be where I am right now, on a ship with a stranger with no means to escape. But I don’t feel scared and oh my goodness, I’m just going to blabber all day, aren’t I?”
“It’s fine.” At that moment, Sundance realised that he had something in common with his mother. He liked knowing that others were safe around him. It calmed him to think about and at last, he was able to relax just a bit so that he might enjoy himself. Turning his face into the breeze, he closed his eyes and allowed the chilly wind to wash over him while he took a few deep breaths.
When he opened his eyes again, Turmeric was minding the ship’s wheel and humming to himself. The unicorn made for a jaunty captain and his smile was infectious. Sundance knew that today was going to be special, and that he’d have a nice time. He’d seen surprisingly little of his own barony beyond the box canyon and the flight path going north from the railway depot. A little exploration with a friend might be fun.
No, not just fun; but a splendid day was sure to be had by all.
Beyond the box canyon, the Foal Mountain Foothills grew far more jagged and evergreens now dominated the landscape. Blue water, black granite, and dark green trees made a feast for the eyes. A sea of trees stretched as far as the eye could see. Sharp peaks hid deep, verdant valleys and sprawling alpine meadows.
Sundance had a hard time believing that this land was his.
He could only describe what he saw as forest fortresses. Approach from the ground seemed impossible in places, with sheer cliff faces making a climb improbable. Water was everywhere; streams from snowmelt, lakes, ponds, marshes, these were wetlands and they teemed with birds of all kinds.
“There.” Turmeric pointed with his hoof at a column of rising steam. “Rustic told me what to look for, and that has to be it.”
Sundance winced; the air here smelled even worse than the barony, if such a thing were possible. Add to the fact that they had considerable altitude… and Sundance concluded that at the ground-level, the stench had to be legendary. There was no getting around it, no denying it, he was the Baron of Stench, Master of Miasmas, guardian of the stinkiest lands in all of Equestria.
“Phew! I’m going to take us down for a closer look!”
A sea of roiling, bubbling, boiling black mud blanketed the valley floor. Rainbows danced in the columns of rising steam and the sight below was every bit as beautiful as it was smelly. In all of his life, Sundance had never seen anything quite as breathtaking. It bubbled like a porridge over a fire, something he’d only been introduced to recently, as he’d never actually seen a porridge bubbling over a fire while living in the city.
Several sources of water trickled down into the lowland valley, with a number of beautiful waterfalls. Birds were everywhere in this place, this fortress of nature surrounded on all sides by sheer, craggy cliffs. Everywhere he looked there were rainbows, so many rainbows, and everything sparkled with glistening condensation, just like his box canyon home.
“It’s perfect.” Turmeric had tears in his eyes; from the beauty or the fetid, fusty, frowsty aroma, it was hard to tell. He paced back and forth while peering down over the edge. “Perfect. Miraculous, medicinal mineral mud. This is just the sort of spot that Rustic hoped to find. Any enterprising pony can mix hot water and black dirt together in a spa, but to find this out in the wild…”
“It’s boiling, though,” Sundance replied.
“That can be dealt with.” Turmeric snorted, sneezed, and coughed for a bit.
“Miraculous?” Sundance’s head tilted off to one side. “It’s just mud. Is it right to call it ‘miraculous,’ because that seems misleading.”
“Oh, Rustic will make no claims of the sort, but ponies will believe it anyway.” Turmeric ceased his pacing, paused, and then after a hesitant moment, leaned up against Sundance. “We won’t need to make any claims. All we’ll need to do is state that we have all-natural mineral mud, and ponies will believe whatever it is that they believe. It does have some actual health benefits, to be sure, but this… this will sell itself.”
After a moment, he added, “The rainbows will no doubt add to its mystical appeal.”
Lifting a hoof, Sundance began to rub his chin. This felt like madness. Would a pony really pay good bits to come and stay at a place like this? With this aroma? It was beautiful, sure—but the smell. Perhaps it would be perceived as a medicinal stench, which might make it more appealing.
All things considered, Sundance had his doubts.
“Rustic’s yacht can hold twenty passengers… well, couples, really. There’s ten cabins. He figures that he can charge five-hundred gold bits per couple for a luxurious weekend getaway. The banks are already competing over which one of them will give Rustic a loan. With that loan, we’ll build a nice sanctuary sanitarium up here, with a spa and hotel. The wealthy elderly will pay a fortune for a place to soak their creaky old bones and convalesce in the lap of luxury. We’ll have to charge astronomical prices though to attract the right clientele, the sort of ponies who don’t want to be bothered by the poor commoners. They’re assholes, but they have money to spend. Rustic loves gouging them, and they love paying Rustic.”
“You’re really serious… there’s money to be made in this?” Sundance couldn’t even begin to imagine whatever numbers had already been cooked up.
“Yeah, enough money that it’s dangerous.” Turmeric’s eyes narrowed and with a turn of his head, he looked up at Sundance. “Rustic is worried that with your debt, one of the banks you owe money to will forcibly step in as a partner. Lending banks make terrible partners. All about bottom lines and profit margins and bad decisions. I’m not sure what Rustic is planning, but make no mistake, he’s planning something. Can’t let corporate greed ruin a good thing… and a good friendship.”
“But we’ve only just met—”
“And on our first meeting, we saw that you’re like us. You might not have north and south figured out, but you’re a foal in the woods.” Turmeric smiled, revealing a few teeth, and he slipped away from Sundance’s side. “I wish I had a group of friends that would have swooped in to save me from some of my more terrible mistakes. At least Rustic and Henny were there to help me recover. Because of them, I learned to trust again. They made me see value in myself.”
Opening up the cooler, the unicorn pulled out two brown glass bottles and with a telekinetic flick, opened them. Still smiling, he passed one to Sundance, while taking a sip from the one he kept for himself. Taking the bottle in his fetlock, Sundance lifted it, took a sniff, and couldn’t smell anything but rotten eggs.
Holding it up a little more, and adjusting his grip, he saw that it was a bottle of Sweet Apple Acres hard cider. This particular flavour was Sugar Belle’s Secret Sour and had an attractive winking unicorn mare biting a green apple on the label. Shrugging, he tried a swallow. At first, it was sweet, far more than he expected from a hard cider, and then the sour hit him like a freight train.
The sound of Turmeric’s laughter was decidedly feminine.
What weird food-based magic was this? The sourness only lasted for a short time—a few eyeblinks, perhaps—but was powerful enough to make Sundance want to swallow his own face. It made the hinge of his jaw ache and his salivary glands squirted and gushed in confusion, trying to dilute the tarty tang tangoing upon his tongue.
“Oh, you are a treasure! The faces that you make!” Turmeric held his bottle up, as if toasting, and gave Sundance a nod. “Wait until Rustic sees this place! It’s fantastic! He’ll be beside himself. Sundance, Rustic looks after his friends. At least, he looks after me. It’s been great having somepony look after my needs after everything that’s happened.”
Unsure of what to say or how to say it, Sundance focused on a distant ridge and pointed with his primaries. “That’s the flattest spot around here. Would be a good place to build, I think. How will you coax rich ponies out here with the smell being what it is?”
“Oh, they make industrial air-scrubbers and filtration systems,” Turmeric was quick to say in return. “It feels nice to have another pony I can be myself around and not worry. I was nervous. This felt like a date. I spent over an hour in front of the mirror making sure the frosted highlights in my mane and tail were just perfect. I feel giddy. It might be the cider. Might not be.”
Sundance tried another sip of his cider, this time fully anticipating the sourness.
There was life here in this boiling pit of mud. Birds flew overhead and strange, unknown creatures could be seen in the mud itself. Odd stork-like birds strolled through the mud, their long legs somehow not scalded. Slithering creepy-crawly things existed in the mud, and the odd birds occasionally ate one. An owl-dragon with iridescent blue scales slept in the crotch of a tree.
Giant dragonflies darted about, their wings buzzing, zipping amongst the rainbows.
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Once more, Turmeric allowed himself to lean up against Sundance’s side.
Thinking nothing of it, Sundance slipped a wing over Turmeric’s back, and continued sipping his cider while drinking in the beauty all around him. The somewhat smaller unicorn was a little antsy at first, but then settled against Sundance’s side and went still. As for Sundance, he could not believe his good fortune, that Princess Celestia had gifted him this land. As important as the land was, other things had happened as a direct cause; he had made friends. After so many years as a recluse, after being buried in his project, he didn’t know how to act.
But that didn’t seem to matter.
None of that seemed to matter in this perfect, wonderful moment.