Everything had to be perfect. A group of unicorns worked in the cold grey hour just before dawn, finishing up the final project. The gatehouse was covered from almost top to bottom with sayings, quotes, and even epigrammatic essays. Beyond the gatehouse, a massive pavilion was now being erected, as well as an outdoor kitchen. A transformed barony awaited inspection, and so did its baron.
Standing atop the belltower, Sundance watched the final preparations, and kept one eye on the faint suggestion of light to the east. Even the bell was now finished; a basic construction, nothing fancy, just a massive steel cylinder with a simple clapper inside. It was not a beautiful sound, the bell was not made with perfect pitch and tone in mind, but it was a distinctive sound that would adequately alert everypony.
A number of owls roosted in the belltower, including Owlister. The owlet would not be an owlet much longer, but was rapidly approaching whatever passed for owl maturity and self-sufficiency. Sundance felt sorry for the owls who roosted here, as surely the ringing of the bell would startle them.
He had an excellent view of everything from way up here, both the inside and the outside of his makeshift keep. Paradox’s home, like his own, was finished. Grandmother Oak had been turned into quite a dwelling, a suitably impressive home fit for any wizard. The wood seemed to have new life in it now that construction was finished.
More owls roosted in the belltower, fleeing the coming dawn, while others took shelter in other nooks and crannies provided by the gatehouse. Sundance didn’t mind; far from it, as this was their home just as much as it was his. One owl cut loose with a blood curdling scream, and the call was answered by another, and then another. Some ponies used roosters as alarm clocks, but here in the Sunfire Barony, the Greater Equestrian Screaming Owls functioned as the heralds of dawn.
“Bloody owls!” somepony down below shouted.
“The Royals are coming,” Sundance said to any owl that might be listening.
“Who?” one owl replied.
Sundance smiled; he couldn’t help himself. No matter what public image he projected, he wasn’t nearly as mature as he made himself out to be, and he indulged in these secret moments of foalish amusement whenever he thought he could get away with it. Grinning now, pleased with his immature cleverness, he stretched his wings so that he might get his blood pumping. It was cold—not freezing, but quite chilly.
A light was on in Corduroy’s infirmary, as evidenced by the well-lit window. His nurse was a busy sort, so much so that he worried if she was getting enough sleep. Like him, she was an early riser, but she also went to bed quite late. During the quiet hours of the night, when others were asleep and there were few distractions, Corduroy was at her most industrious, brewing potions, processing salves, and creating balms.
An old grizzled owl made a clumsy landing, almost crashing, and there were a great many hoots and screams as the younger owls scrambled to get out of the way. The wise old fellow was enormous, battle-scarred, and missing a toe. After a moment of rest and recovery upon the railing, the ancient hooter spread his wings, flapped, and ascended to his rightful place of honour, the support beam that held up the bell. Casting an imperious gaze upon his fellows, the old cranky elder settled down, twisted his head around backwards, and closed his eyes.
Off to the east, the first golden ray of dawn pierced the heavens, and Sundance turned to watch.
“All this bodes well for disaster-preparedness,” Berry Briar said as she folded her wings against her sides. “Even with the greenest of green recruits, recruits with little to no training, we got a lot done. Feels like we got lucky and ended up with a skilled batch of workers.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Commander Humblewood nodded, but had nothing to say.
“These are great kids,” Berry Briar continued, this time in a somewhat lower voice, one with more than a little emotion in it. “Passionate kids. Not so much apathy in this batch. I think that, now that the Gringineers are becoming established, now that everypony can see for themselves what we can do, what we are capable of, I think we’ll see more eager, starry-eyed idealists in our ranks. What that means to our future, I don’t know.”
“There were problems with the previous recruits?” asked Sundance.
“Some.” Commander Humblewood’s eyebrow lifted a bit, and his ears turned in the direction of the pavilion under construction.
“A lot of judges sentenced ‘troubled youth’ to enlist as an alternative to juvenile work farms. For a time, there was the public perception that this was a form of punishment, community service for hooligans, malcontents, and miscreants. It was a struggle to push past all that. Prince Gosling and Princess Twilight Sparkle constantly had to challenge public perceptions and defend what was being done, and why it was being done. Princess Twilight in particular kept insisting that this was not a punitive community service branch of the Royal Guard. It was a hard fight to get where we are now, and both Gosling and Twilight spent a lot of time in the community relations trenches.” Berry Briar smiled, but it was a hard smile—perhaps a killer’s smile.
It was startling sometimes, to remember that the pink pegasus was a hardened soldier.
“If we have another Manehattan-level incident, if one of our cities gets knocked down, we’ll be able to rapidly recover,” Commander Humblewood muttered, distracted by the construction down below.
“Thank you. Thank you for everything. There are no words to express my gratitude.” Sundance glanced at Commander Humblewood, and then his eyes darted over to Berry Briar. “I feel extraordinarily lucky to have received aid, and I am grateful. If it is the last thing I do, I will prove myself worthy of this assistance.”
“Good,” Berry Briar replied as she wrapped one wing around Sundance’s neck and pulled him closer. “You won’t mind then if we show up next spring with a fresh batch of green recruits!”
“Princess Celestia is coming.” Paradox Sunflower’s voice was shrill with panic. “Headmistress Celestia is coming and SHE IS GOING TO EVALUATE AND GRADE MY PERFORMANCE!”
Before Sundance could offer a word of encouragement, a soothing pep-talk of reassurance, Paradox took off at a gallop and the fusionista moved with terrific speed that defied her scrawny nerdiness. After a moment, Sundance looked up at Corduroy, and saw his nurse looking down at him. Together, they shared a silent exchange, a knowing glance between the two of them. The diamond dog nodded, so did Sundance, and then Corduroy shrugged.
“She’s a bit high strung,” Corduroy said at last.
“That she is,” Sundance agreed.
“Soon, all of this will be over, and everything will be boring again.”
“Corduroy, when you put it that way, I don’t want this to end.”
“We still need to do something about the drudgery,” the nurse said while her jowls sagged into something that almost resembled a frown. “Express Delivery is over-grooming and over-preening herself. If this keeps up, she’ll pluck herself bald, I think.”
Twisting his head about in a decidedly owlish manner, Sundance had a look at his own wings. The idea of preening himself bald alarmed him, no pegasus pony wanted to think about that, and after contemplating his own pretty pegasus plumage, he looked up at his nurse with a scowl of concern.
“What do we do about the Silent Menace?” he asked.
“Sundance, I don’t know, but as the barony’s nurse, I would say this constitutes a health crisis. Recreation and leisure are of utmost importance for both physical and mental health. We’ll need to think of clever solutions, hopefully before this becomes a serious problem.”
The rogue wind wreaked havoc upon the pavillion, the outdoor kitchen, and the pristine white tablecloths laid out upon the tables. Skyla flitted about, trying to secure the pavillion, but was tossed about by the gusts, which played rough. She was determined though, and stuck with her task, even though it proved quite difficult.
It wasn’t a storm, the skies were quite clear, but the wind proved to be a worthy foe. A small herd stampeded about, going to and fro, trying to pin down and secure the tablecloths, while another group tried to keep the kitchen from collapsing. It was just enough of a crisis to be interesting, to be exciting, but not enough to panic over and abandon all plans.
Work on the gatehouse was not yet finished. Unicorns were still engraving teeny, tiny words into the stone, a lasting monument, a testament for those passing through the gate to read. A group of earth ponies were planting flowers around the newly renovated dining hall, which was now considerably larger, insulated, and far more comfortable. Yet another group erected makeshift wooden fences made from leftover scrap around the flowerbeds, a last minute push for a bit more beautification.
A bandaged owlcoon lazed about under the morning sun, watched over by an anxious Lemongrass.
“Incoming!” a guard shouted, his voice amplified by the ship’s public announcement system. “Royal yacht incoming!”
Facing himself westward, Sundance squinted at the distant horizon. He couldn’t see anything, but kept trying anyhow. Time was short now, and with each passing second, the royal yacht drew closer. These last-minute tasks had to be finished, and soon. The wind whipped his mane about and it occurred to Sundance that he’d done nothing to make himself presentable.
He hoped that one of the new showers was free.
As it turned out, the royal yacht didn’t look much like a yacht at all. It looked more like a modified warship than anything else, one of the sleek new nacelle-less designs that had internal buoyancy systems secreted beneath the hull. Beautiful in a terrible way, it was rather fish-shaped, and elegantly streamlined. The new nacelle-less ship designs had no deck, no flat place for pegasus ponies or fliers to land, just armor and guns aplenty.
A small fleet acted as escorts, ships that Sundance could not recognise, could not name. He did not know their type, other than a few were small, some were medium sized, and two of them were large enough to be scary, though not as big as the Gringineer’s ship. Now they all floated in formation with the Gringineer ship, defying gravity in their own odd way.
The royal foals had been collected and hauled aboard.
Immortal Solars were on the ground now, with some taking up positions around the gatehouse, or on the walk above the gatehouse, and one stood in the belltower, surrounded by owls. They stood unmoving, silent, statues made of flesh encased in ornate armor. Sundance wondered if Olive was among their ranks, or if she was someplace else. He hadn’t seen much of her lately, probably because she was doing her job, plus the fact that her altered appearance made her hard to spot.
A pegasus wearing golden armor landed near Sundance, saluted once, and then said, “Your company is requested. Please, follow me.”
Seeing as he had no other choice in the matter, Sundance nodded.
The interiour of the ship was oddly hive-like in appearance and structure, with curved, rounded walls and hallways that were more than a little cramped. Everything was made of shiny, highly reflective steel, and he saw his reflection staring back at him from every available surface. Sundance wondered how Princess Celestia managed to even fit in here. Why, she would have to walk with her head low to the floor, and probably with her knees bent. Each of the bulkheads had a round, circular doorway that was not at all ideal for a pony to pass though, much less an alicorn.
Sundance decided that the Royal Navy was not for him; this ship was far too cramped.
Below the floor, a metal grid, pipes and conduits could be seen, the arteries of the ship. Sundance couldn’t even begin to conceive what they were for, what purpose they served, or why they might need easy access—which seemed to be the case, considering the metal grid. The only lights to be found were also below the steel grid, lamps that had a fierce red glow and bathed everything in a crimson tint.
“This ship seems just a bit cramped,” Sundance said to his escort, who lead him along.
“By design,” the guard replied, grunting out the words. “It doubles as a submarine in the event that the family needs to be hid. Magic scrying doesn’t work through thick stone or deep water.”
“Should you be telling me that?”
“I don’t see why not. You’re one of the ponies to be evacuated during a time of crisis, should the need arise. Ah, we’re here. Right through this door, if you please.”