The problem with Château Nouveau was that Sundance never quite knew what to expect on arriving. It was a busy, bustling place and it was easy to get distracted from one’s purpose upon entering. One could get caught up in the drama, the spectacle, it was easy to get swept away by a torrent, a sudden swell of emotion. But not today; today, Château Nouveau was quiet.
It almost felt like study hall, when everypony was preparing for a test.
Lady Pebble Pie was still in second place and Lord Sterling Standard still held the top position. Nobles old and young had their snoots tucked into books. A few looked at him, some sniffed as he passed, but mostly, he was just ignored. He was distracted by a burly earth pony mare who went strutting by; she wore light armor that most certainly wasn’t ceremonial or ornamental. Her helm was of the most unusual, most eye-catching design, but he hardly paid it a second glance. He was far too focused on her legs, which were like rippling tree trunks.
She came to a stop near a youngish unicorn mare and went as still as a statue.
Reminding himself of why he was here, Sundance trotted over to the message exchange to look for anything that might be useful. Professionals were posted here, general labour, ponies seeking positions, as well as various services. Armed guards seemed plentiful, along with hastily scribbled reminders of the Canterlot rat threat. Eyes darting from note to note, he wasn’t sure if he warranted the services of armed guards, because basically, he was a nopony. He couldn’t imagine somepony wanting to hurt him, or why.
An artist colony here in Canterlot wanted a pickle barrel and five-hundred cumquats. In return, they offered a dignified portrait painting. This gave Sundance ideas, grand thoughts about sponsoring artists and allowing them to live in his barony. Artists needed food, a roof over their head, and patronage. Sometimes, artists made money… sometimes, not so much. Perhaps really old artists might be good, those with only a few years left in them. Yes, a retirement community for old artists, and with their imminent demise, their works could only go up in value.
The hot springs would be enticing and for artists who were compelled to suffer, there was the ever-present stench.
Among the listings there were no midwives, but there was a doctor. A surgeon, by description, with a long list of demands and no mention of a salary. Somepony wanting to set up a practice, no doubt. Sighing in frustration, Sundance shook his head. The listings were just not as helpful as he had hoped. What had he been expecting? He didn’t know.
“There you are, I thought you might be here.”
Smiling a bit, more to be polite than anything, Sundance turned to face Fleur Dis Lee. “Did my stink give me away?”
For a second, Fleur appeared mortified, but she recovered with remarkable aplomb. “Dearest darling, you are a busy pony, and this is where busy ponies can be found. The movers and the shakers gather here. Are you not a mover and a shaker? Is there something I can help you with?”
He admired her recovery and took notes. This is how one nobled. She was good and he aspired to be like her with his dealings. Having learned something, he got right to the point. “I need a midwife. Maybe a doctor. Not sure.”
Fleur’s brows furrowed in a thoughtful, delicate way. Her long, slender muzzle contorted for a moment, her lips pursing into a thoughtful pucker, and her right ear twitched as she stood there, clearly lost in thought. “If you’ve come in search of a temporary solution, I can help you. But if you should desire a long-term solution, I know of one.”
There was something about Fleur’s expression that intrigued Sundance.
“She’s a nurse and an alchemist. Quite brilliant. She’s had… shall we say, issues when it comes to finding work.”
Shifting from his right hooves to his left hooves, Sundance waited. The lack of details concerned him and he concluded that Fleur was dancing around some uncomfortable issue. “Is she an alcoholic?”
“Oh, gracious! Perish the thought! No!”
“Horribly disfigured?”
“Goodness! How grotesque!”
“Unbearable halitosis?”
“What? No!” Fleur began to tremble and her bottom lip quivered. “Well, maybe a little, but she can’t help it.”
This was not the answer he expected. Having caught poor Fleur off guard, he grinned. “Bad breath is the least of my concerns, given my environment. What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’ll not tell you,” Fleur said while her expression hardened. “I shall be happy to show you though. Are you open-minded, Baron Sundance?”
“Not so much so that my brain falls out,” he replied, attempting to be witty, “but there’s enough room in there for broad subjects.”
Somehow, Fleur managed to appear both disgusted and hopeful at the same time. Perhaps the mention of brains left her queasy, or it might have been his awful attempt at humour. Casting aside his poor attempts at humour, Sundance got down to the matter at hoof. “I have a sick pregnant mare. The sooner I can get help, the better. If I need to keep an open mind to get help, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Excellent. Come with me. We’ll have a delightful walk together.”
Sundance was glad that he had left his sky truck back at Château Nouveau because Madam Marmy’s Boarding House & Kitchen had no parking whatsoever. It was a three story brick building that seemed out of place in Canterlot, but also right at home in the Griffon District, which had other brick buildings. The Griffon District had quite a different look and feel from the rest of Canterlot; not poorer, not a ghetto, just different.
It might be the buildings, or the meat markets, or the fact that some of the Griffon District was built into the sheer cliffside below the city. While tiny, visiting gave the distinct feeling that one had gone to another place, a place not-Canterlot. While there were plenty of griffons here, as the name suggested, there were tremendous numbers of pegasus ponies here, whom also shared the means to access the many apartments built into the cliffside below.
The streets were even narrower here, if such a thing were somehow possible, and everything felt far more claustrophobic. Flying creatures had little need for streets or things that took up room, like stairways and accessways. Everywhere there were signs posted on buildings, warning potential visitors that there were no elevators or stairs to access the upper floors.
Other than the smell of meat kebabs, this wasn’t a bad place.
“Dearest darling, that brisk walk was invigourating, was it not?” Fleur made a dramatic gesture with her hoof. “Madam Marmy is a dear old friend of mine. A most curious character, she’s a pegasus raised by griffons right here in Equestria. She has some delightful quirks. The two of you should get to know one another.”
Sundance’s first impression of Madam Marmy was one that left him filled with unease; she was sitting on a tall wooden stool eating a kebab smothered in some kind of bright-orange sauce. The chunks of meat were unknown, but the things that appeared to be curled-up fingers were probably shrimp. How did he know this? He wasn’t sure, but it left him disgusted with himself.
“Fleur!” Marmy smacked her sauce-covered lips and waved the saucy kebab in her fetlock around. “Oh, hey, who’s your friend? Homina, homina, homina!”
“Oh, Marmy, you’re so bold! No kisses, dearest, you’re covered in sauce.” Fleur backed away, wary of saucy kisses of greeting. “This is Baron Sundance, of the Sunfire Barony.” With a smart turn, the demure mare faced Sundance. “Baron Sundance, this is Madam Marmy.”
Shuffling a bit, Sundance allowed himself to be eyeballed by the hungry mare, feeling self-conscious during every awkward second. The wooden floor he shuffled about upon was scuffed with the passing of a great many claws and hooves. Marmy licked the sauce off of her lips, licked her lips yet again while her eyes lingered upon him, and with a neat flick of her hoof, tossed the remains of her kebab out an open window. Then, with her eyes never leaving him, she began licking bright orange sauce off of her hoof.
“Hmm, I wouldn’t kick you out of my nest for eating green bean crunchies,” Marmy remarked as she dismounted from her tall stool with a slick flap of her wings. She landed with a supple, feline grace and there was something about her that just wasn’t equine in her mannerisms.
“Such a delightful, bold mare.” Fleur sighed the words while gracefully striking a pose. “We’re here to see Corduroy. Oh, I do hope to see her employed. She’s so deserving.”
“Captain Sizzle Feathers here seems like the quiet type,” Marmy said to Fleur. Then, turning to Sundance once more, she beamed. “I know you. Flew into Canterlot during that spring blizzard. It was in all the papers. Everybirdy kept talking about how stupid you had to be to do such a thing, but I thought it was awesome. I worked with the Canterlot Fire Department for a time, but I got bored with it. It just wasn’t exciting enough and they didn’t appreciate me taking risks. You like taking risks, Captain Sizzle Feathers?”
Ignoring his racing heart, Sundance played it cool when he replied, “I do what needs to be done. I don’t shy away from danger.”
“I’m dangerous,” said Marmy while her eyes narrowed in an enticing, thrilling way. “Make your approach with caution, Captain Sizzle Feathers. My landing strip has big bumps.” With a coy turn of her head, she batted her eyelashes up at Sundance, and then began giggling when Fleur squirmed. “I’ll go get Corduroy for you. You be nice to her, or else.”
The sitting room was almost bare. In the middle of the narrow room was a low oval table and scattered around it were a collection of threadbare cushions to sit on. No pictures hung on the walls, there was no clock, there wasn’t much of anything. Just a table and a few cushions. After looking around, Sundance reached the conclusion that this was the sort of place that didn’t charge much for a room. Though bare, the walls were interesting enough, as the various colours of red bricks formed eye-catching patterns.
Fleur stood near the narrow window, looking out. Her brows had a faint wrinkle about them, her ears were pricked, and her tail swished back and forth in an agitated, fitful manner. Sundance watched her for a moment, grateful for her help, and wondered what he had done to deserve such a benevolent benefactor.
“Marmy is wasting her talents here,” said Fleur to Sundance, almost murmuring. “Running a flophouse is ill-befitting a mare of her capabilities. She’s sociable, charming, outgoing, she is kind to others, that mare has a wealth of assets. Though she is perhaps a bit rough around the edges, but that seems to be fashionable at the moment. As a bonus, she would also make a functional bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” Sundance’s head tilted off to one side while he uttered the one word that stood out.
“Marmy is an accomplished barroom brawler. I’ve never known her to actually start a fight, goodness no. But when trouble starts, she’s not one for fainting or fleeing. Even the rats of Canterlot give her a width berth after she poured boiling oil down one of their burrow-holes. Yes, dearest Marmy would make for a fine Lady for some lucky Lord.”
“Boiling oil?” He couldn’t help it; his mind kept getting stuck on the words that stood out most.
“Fancy Pants was quite beside himself. The appalling stench lingered for weeks. We had to have our tower professionally fumigated to be rid of the unpleasant aroma of crispy chicken fried rat.”
“Chicken fried rat?” Certain details simply could not be ignored.
“We invited Marmy over for a social mixer. I had hopes that somepony would find her charming, if perhaps a bit rough and tumble. Fancy Pants and I had such high hopes. She was doing so well, but then the rats crashed the party and she did what she did… and now those of gentle breeding avoid her like the plague. I still cling to my belief that she will make a fine Lady for just the right Lord.”
Heaving a sigh, Fleur’s ears twitched.
Reaching a sort of understanding, Sundance nodded. “Gentle breeding. Something tells me that a mare of gentle breeding wouldn’t do so well in some of the rougher baronies. I guess? I really don’t know. Come to think of it, I don’t know too many mares that have a fainting problem, but then again, I don’t know many mares at all.”
“Many regions have gone back to barony status.” Fleur’s lips puckered for a moment and when they unpuckered, her ears relaxed and settled into a calmer position. “The Froggy Bottom Bogg is a barony again. Two of them, in fact. One in the marsh and the other in the southern forests along it’s edge.”
Naked, vulnerable sadness appeared upon Fleur’s face without warning.
“Canterlot was a mistake.” Something, either guilt or sorrow could be seen in her eyes, maybe both. “Canterlot was a mistake. The nobles left their lands to live here. They lost touch… they lost their connection. Soon, they became soft. Useless. Gentle breeding took over. In time, the nobles became relics. Museum pieces, and Canterlot the museum. My dearest Fancy Pants has so much to say on the issue.”
Hope, like flickering candle flames, could be seen in Fleur’s eyes. “Marmy represents so many of the qualities I hope to see in the new breed of nobles. The new blood. For the nobility to survive, and Equestria with it, we must return to what once was. This new generation—your generation, dearest Sundance, must learn from the mistake that was, and is, Canterlot.”
Just as Sundance was about to say something in return, another entered the room where he and Fleur stood waiting.