//------------------------------// // Into the lair of the mastermind // Story: House of the Rising Sunflower // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Boredom threatened to be Sundance’s undoing. Try as he might, he could not sleep so the time would pass, and he was too jittery to read. Tarantula was sound asleep with his forelegs wrapped tight around his stuffed Rainbow Dash. As it turned out, even the tiniest amount of mild sedative overpowered the tiny burro colt—but there was no cause to worry. The herbal brew was harmless, posed no danger, and had no long-term side effects.  The flu-like symptoms persisted, which included a faint throbbing headache, achy joints, dry mouth, and the jitters—which Sundance hated more than just about anything. His symptoms weren’t that bad, but Corduroy wanted him in bed. Even worse, she threatened to sit on him if he resisted, and he had no doubt that she would. He might be the baron, but she was the nurse, and as such, outranked him when it came to medical issues.  After he threatened her with an apple, she informed him that those only worked on doctors.  Of course, Corduroy wasn’t here… which meant that he could escape. Just step outside for a bit maybe. Not much of an escape. Just a bit of fresh air. A little sunshine. He could just step outside for a few minutes, see how things were going, and then be back inside and in bed before his nurse even noticed. Yes, that was a good plan. An excellent plan. Certainly a better plan than waving an apple at his nurse.  Corduroy needed a dragon pearl, something she mentioned in passing. Of course, not knowing, he’d asked what a dragon pearl was, and wished he hadn’t. Sometimes, when dragons settled in for a long sleep, they had a bit of sand, or a fragment of bone, or a stone, or even a skull lodged in between their cheek and gums. One of the many risks of being a dragon. While the dragon slept, a pearl formed around the foreign body so it wouldn’t become a source of irritation.  Why Corduroy needed such a thing, she hadn’t mentioned.  With much sneakiness, Sundance slipped out of bed, made not a sound, and reveled in a moment of foalish pleasure. He grinned; but it was not a wholesome grin, it was a daredevil’s grin, the sort of grin his mother threatened to slap right off his face if he didn’t stop that, right now, this instant. Come to think of it, his mother spent a lot of time threatening to punish him, and while there had been a few actual punishments, he realised that he was more afraid of what his mother might do than anything she actually did.  This gave him pause and he stood there rubbing his chin, lost in thought.  Pins and needles stabby-stabbed his hooves but he dared not dance in place to ease the prickly sensation. Doing so would make a commotion, a ruckus, and would surely wake up the slumbering Tarantula—who was awfully cute with his little Rainbow Dash stuffie. It felt good to be upright and he wanted to stretch his wings, but that would have to wait. In silence, he slunked for the door, for beyond was precious sunlight.  He opened the door, slipped outside—and immediately bumped into Corduroy.    His nose bumped right into her navel and what came out of him could only be described as a sort of avian squawk. When he looked up at her, he saw that she stared down at him, and her left paw came to rest on her hip. In her right paw, she pinched a paper bird, which flapped and made every effort to escape. When the door shut behind him, he almost yelped, and he wished that he wasn’t sandwiched between a building and his stern nurse.  “This was flying in circles around the infirmary,” she said to him while she held out the paper bird.  He licked his dry lips, but said nothing.  “Come outside for a bit of fresh air?” she asked.  “Yeah… I was going to go right back in, I swear. It was uh… well, I was uh… it was boring.”  “That’s a problem,” Corduroy said in a neutral tone. With a turn of her head, she glanced at the paper bird pinched between her paw-thumb and paw-finger. “I think this is for you.”  When she let go of the origami bird, it fluttered about, bumped into Sundance’s nose, and then began to unfold itself. He caught it with his wing, turned it over, saw that he had it backwards, turned it over again, and saw he had it upside down. After he got it rightside up, he looked up at Corduroy once more, and smiled at her—with the hopes that she might be appeased.  “Those birds”—she pointed with her index paw-finger—“I’ve been doing some thinking. It would take days for those birds to fly here from Canterlot. Plus, high winds and such, and weather, and a variety of factors would all pose a serious threat to a paper construct. I have to wonder… how are those birds getting here?”  “I… have no idea.”  Corduroy brought up some excellent points, and now, Sundance found himself baffled. The paper birds were a mystery. They were rather slow, all things considered, and flew more like butterflies. Of course, Sundance didn’t understand enough about magic to even begin to make a guess—but he was mystified by Twilight Velvet’s wizardly prowess.  “This is why I don’t like magic,” Corduroy said matter-of-factly. “It raises more questions than it answers.”  If Paradox were here, she would certainly mention that Corduroy was an alchemist. As for Sundance, he knew better. He kept his mouth shut with the hopes that his nurse would overlook the fact that he was out of bed. The sheet of paper seemed to wiggle in his wing, as if urging him to hurry up and give it a read.  Dear Lord Sundance: Please, come to Canterlot at once. I have precious gifts to give to you.  Time is of the essence. Thank you for your understanding. Best regards,  Lady Twilight Velvet He looked up at Corduroy after he was finished and said, “I have to go.”  “But you’re sick,” she retorted.  “I’ve flown feeling worse. Besides, a good flight might clear my head. Could be just what I need to feel better.”  “I don’t feel right about this—”  “Duty calls, Corduroy.” With the words barely out of his mouth, he saw her demeanour change dramatically.  “It does,” she said with a nod. “Been thinking about duty a lot lately, since I came here. Not just as a nurse, but as your advisor. As your friend. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. I am always on the clock, so to speak. Some might complain, but I find it rewarding. Satisfying.” With her brows furrowed, she added, “Be careful, Sundance.”  “I will.” He said it as a promise, which was done without thought.  “I’m going to pack you up some hydrating liquid. Stop along the way and have a drink. Dehydration worries me because it leads to other issues if left untreated. Your nerves can’t function well without adequate hydration. I had some salty vegetable broth made just for you that I was going to serve with your lunch. I’ll put it into a travel container.”  “Thank you.” Then, when that didn’t feel like it was enough, he added, “Really, thank you. You are one of my best friends. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  “You need to get going and I need to check on a burro. While you’re getting your sky truck ready, I’ll get your broth and a few snacks to eat along the way.” She snatched one of his ears, gave it a tug, and then allowed it to slowly slip between her paw-fingers. “Paradox and I will have the runway lit up if you come home late.”  “Good deal. Thanks. I suppose I’d better shake a leg…”    Twilight Velvet must have had her reasons for urging him to hurry, and as he flew along, Sundance tried to think about what they might be. Maybe the little ones were promised to be adopted today, and Twilight Velvet wanted to keep that promise. That seemed likely, though there could very well be other reasons for urgency. Keeping a promise was important to maintain trust.  He flew low to the ground, ready to land if his thirst threatened to overcome him. The land here was strange, too. He hadn’t fully explored his lands; the plans to do so were always there in his mind, but putting those plans into action was a problem. West of the barony—but east of Canterlot—were lowland marshes, a boggy area where the runoff from the highlands pooled. This area, north of the Everfree, was similar, but also different. It also didn’t offer much in the way of dry land suitable for landing.  Tall, stately trees could be seen, with curious, stilt-like roots that kept their trunks up out of the murky water. Large creatures—possibly cragodiles—could be seen lying in wait. A hot, fetid smell rose up to violate Sundance’s nostrils, but he wasn’t impressed by the feculent funk. As the sovereign ruler of Rotten Egglünd, he lived with far worse smells. He was now a connoisseur of fine stenches (or was that connoissewer) and was darn-near impervious to common garden-variety stinks.  Birds chittered, some unknown critter roared, frogs croaked, and every sound that came from the marsh formed a sort of song. This was his land, a gift from his grandmother, and like her, he was determined to do something with it. Some day, he’d have an idea, maybe, or perhaps some grand inspiration. It wasn’t something he needed to worry about now. He had the foundations in order, he was free of debt because of his friends, and he was gaining population.  Surely, the future would take care of itself…    Canterlot was somehow hotter than the barony, even though it was at a much higher elevation. It was hot, dry, and almost unpleasant. Canterlot was a cool city, most of the time, so a hot day like this one really did a number on the residents of the city. They trotted at a slow pace if they trotted at all. Most plodded along, dragging their hooves, and much of Canterlot’s elite were sans clothes, which is to say fashionably naked. Many of the unicorns fanned themselves with festive folding paper fans, while pegasus ponies used their wings.  Alas, the poor earth ponies had no means to fan themselves, and were forced to endure.  It was no small mercy that it wasn’t hot and sticky. Sundance’s land had humidity, and not just any humidity either, but smelly humidity. The vapour ejected from sulfurous fumaroles hung heavy in the air and left the air soupy—a soup made from the putrefactive essence of rotten eggs. Not all that long ago, he sat in a tree and watched a fumarole for almost an hour. A boiling mudhole on the edge of a bubbling bog. After about thirty minutes of fascinated study, he concluded that the spewing fumarole looked very much like a convulsing anus. It took him another thirty minutes or maybe longer to peel his gaze away and find something else to do.  When he suggested to Corduroy that he would name the area Butthole Bog, she gave him a well-deserved poke with her paw-finger.  Canterlot was a magnificent city, but it lacked flatulent mud-spewing bog-anuses.  “Sundance… you do not look well.”  A shimmery, glittery force grabbed his chin, yanked his head down, and then Twilight Velvet pressed her hoof against his forehead. After a few seconds, she clucked her tongue, made an odd noise that was somehow as maternal as it was familiar, pulled her hoof away from his forehead, only to press it against his cheek, which continued for a prolonged series of moments, until she pulled away and let go of his chin.  “Slight fever,” she remarked.  “I suffered an unexpected magical discharge. Rather shocking, all things considered.”  “If I would have known, I wouldn’t have called you out.”  “Strange, you seemed to know what I was up to the last time we met.”  Twilight Velvet smirked. “What you observed is the illusion that I am all-knowing. Which is obviously not the case. The Observers know your habits and routines. I can make myself seem quite impressive if I ruthlessly exploit a few basic facts. But the Observers are not always watching. In fact, most of the time, they are not. I’m told that your barony is a snooze-fest. The Observers are forced to draw straws to determine who has to go for observation duties.”  “Oh, my peasants absolutely love working all day. That’s their thing.” He took a second to rub the tickle away from his chin, which lingered. “They don’t seem to be bothered by boredom, unlike some of us. Some of us are ready to die from it, so I sympathise.”  “Well, I may have the means to make life interesting, Sundance. Today, you’re getting a twofer.” Twilight Velvet grinned, and doing so caused her face to light up with maternal mischief. “But first, some tea I think. You do not look well. Flu-like symptoms? Fatigue? Jitteriness?”  He nodded.  “Unicorns have a special tea just for that. I’ll fix you some. Come, follow me. We have much to go over and do. Also, for some reason, shortbread really helps the condition, and nopony knows why exactly. I think it is because it is so dense and starchy. Twilight would deplete herself often, and my husband and I kept emergency stashes of tea and shortbread hidden in various places.”  To which Sundance replied, “Some tea sounds wonderful.”    Sundance found himself in an utterly non-remarkable kitchen. Not a kitchenette, as one might find in an office, but an actual kitchen. The refrigerator was covered in drawings and paintings, a collage of clutter that was warm and inviting. This kitchen saw use, too. Though it was clean, there was clutter. Things happened here, and Sundance could only imagine that Twilight Velvet must spend time with her young charges, baking cookies, brownies, and other delectable treats. She struck him as being that sort of mare.  The tea smelled bitter and somewhat medicinal. It needed a bit longer to steep, and while it did so, Twilight Velvet portioned out some shortbread on a plate covered with stuffed bears, rubber duckies, and alphabet blocks. In the middle of the table there were a pile of folders, papers, and casefiles. Over the sink, Sundance noticed a rack full of bottles, some of which were wet, as though they were recently washed.  “Where are your assistants?” he asked.  “Buttermilk and Copper are busy with a case. Right now, they are off on a recovery with Wormwood, one of my other assistants. If all goes well, they should be back this evening.”  “And if things go poorly?” he dared ask.  “I go out and deal with things myself,” was Twilight Velvet’s cold response. There was no bravado, no vanity, no boastfulness about her words. “Wormwood has only ever been bested once. He was assaulted with alchemical agents specifically designed to do great harm to his unique physiology. They were prepared for our arrival… but they were not prepared for Buttermilk Oddbody.”  “Mrs. Oddbody… the little half-pint pegasus—”  “If I were you, I wouldn’t let her hear you say that,” Twilight Velvet warned.  “Well, I uh, it’s just that… I never would have suspected… not that I am one to judge… I try not to judge…” Unable to continue with this subject, he changed it. “Mind if I ask what sort of recovery effort this is? Like, from a house?”  “Smugglers. Foal exploitation. Trafficking.” Mrs. Velvet’s eyes became paper-thin slits. “I’m not worried though. This is quite a job, so I called in a few favours. Mister Teapot and his daughter, Megara, they will be assisting. Those two have a thing for mooks.”  “Uh-huh.”  “We are fighting a war, Sundance.” Twilight Velvet’s face became a cold, emotionless mask devoid of expression. “I don’t mean the war with Grogar, either. It’s a war that the common pony cannot grasp. Every day, hundreds of boats and airships arrive upon our shores, and these craft are filled with refugees. Many of them are young, helpless creatures of all kinds.  “They slip through the cracks, Sundance. Irresponsible agencies or outright corrupt agencies that should be helping them are instead trafficking them. Central Equestria is under tight control, but our coastal cities are corrupt. Things are slowly getting better, and while we work to fix things, many lives slip through the cracks.  “I am trying to save those I can, though I must confess, my resources are strained to the limit right now. Which is why I am glad for your help. You will continue to help me, won’t you?”  His response came without hesitation: “Of course. But please understand that my resources are also limited.”  “We have more resources together than we do individually.”  These words gave Sundance pause, and he took a moment to weigh them in his mind. There was truth to these words, at least a ring of truth, and with a little consideration, he understood said truth. He had land, space. There was food. Twilight Velvet had other ways and means, other resources, even if he didn’t fully understand what those might be. Yes, there was much truth in the idea that they could do more together than they could individually.  He offered her a slow nod.  “Trust is in short supply right now, for obvious reasons. The current extraction is from an agency that I believed that I could trust. For a time, they were indeed trustworthy. Something changed recently. Not sure what. I suppose the bribes became irresistible, or perhaps there was blackmail.” The intensity of her piercing gaze increased tenfold. “I need nearby allies that I can depend upon. Resources are scarce here in Central Equestria, where my power is most consolidated.”  “How can I help?” asked Sundance. “I mean, you have to know I’m loyal. What am I going to do? Disappoint my grandmother? My mother? My actual grandmother, my mom’s mother? I am predisposed to goodness and loyalty, because let’s face it… the mares in my family would absolutely destroy me if I stepped out of line. So, how can I help?”  “We’ll get to that. First, we need to get you feeling better. Priorities, Sundance.”