//------------------------------// // Hooligan headache // Story: House of the Rising Sunflower // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// The lure of dawn roused Sundance from his fitful slumber and his dreams of sunflowers. His first thought upon waking was that he wasn’t cold—the bone-chilling ache in his limbs was gone—but his back was sore from where he struck the roof. All things considered, all was well. As his mind transitioned into wakefulness and hazy visions of sunflowers retreated from the theatre screen of his conscience, the powerful urge to stretch the stiffness out of his legs overwhelmed him. He wanted to greet the dawn and say hello, as it were.  He slipped out of bed, stumbled, heard a soft chuckle from Corduroy, who was apparently awake, and then he tried to recover his lordly majesty. Which might have worked, but he tripped over his own front legs and almost went face first right back into bed. His wings unfurled, unbidden, and flapped to keep him upright. Corduroy was laughing now, not chuckling, and he chalked it up to the fact that he was just too majestic for her to bear.  “You look like an upset goose,” she said to him while he worked to remain upright.  “I’ll give you something to take a gander at, Corduroy.”  There was a loud snort from River Raider’s bed, but not a word was spoken. Sundance continued to wobble, and he flapped a bit, until his legs finally unkinked. How long had he stayed in bed? Too long, it seemed. Far too long. Now his wing joints were cramped from vigorous flapping without proper stretching first. This was turning out to be one of those mornings.  “Go wash your face,” Corduroy said to Sundance. “You have eye-boogers. Disgusting. Go on, get out.”  “I’ll do just that,” he replied, and then headed for the door to take his leave.    A whole day’s worth of dry lightning and high winds with no rain had left the barony a bit of a mess. Damage to the crops seemed minimal, at least to Sundance’s eyes, but he didn’t know enough to be certain. Broken branches, twigs, and debris could be seen everywhere, piled in every corner, nook, and dead-end. An abundance of wildflower petals were strewn-about like confetti, and yellow pollen dusted every exposed surface.  Not a drop of the expected rain fell.  Sundance eyed the waterfall, which generously gave the barony its needed water. It still flowed, a torrent, and while there was nothing to worry about, Sundance still felt a niggle of concern. There was plenty of snow melt, boiling springs, natural springs, and other water sources, so why did he worry? Perhaps because he understood just how dependent they were upon water. While he understood very little about farming, he did understand that water was their primary resource, and without it, they would be in deep, deep trouble.  In the city, water just came out of the tap, and he never once gave it much thought. The water was simply there. It was always there, and would always be there, provided that one paid their water bill. Water fountains were everywhere. One never had to worry about water in the city—but since coming here, Sundance had gained a newfound sense of appreciation for his water usage.  Here, water had sources other than the tap.  Paradox prowled about, her face tired, worried, and exhausted. She approached, her hooves almost dragging, and when she was but a few yards away, Sundance could see that her eyes were bloodshot. She was still happy though, and it shone through somehow, like the sun through grey thunderheads. There was something defiant about her, something pleased and purposeful.  “I kept watch through the night,” she said to him as she drew near. “We had another scout. I spotted him—her—it? I spotted them as they repelled down the waterfall cliff. Might have overreacted a bit, there was barely even ash to blow about in the wind. That happens sometimes. You look better. Feeling better? I feel tired. But now that it is daylight, I suppose I can end my watch.”  “I feel fine, thanks for asking.” Sundance shuffled a little closer to Paradox, thought about his conversation with River Raider, and then he very much wanted to hug his cousin, but he dared not. “You should get some sleep, Paradox.”  “After breakfast, I will.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Last night I also made a firefly lantern for Bonk. That was draining. I didn’t think I had it in me. But I did! I was able to cast illusory fireflies that shed light inside of a jar and apply permanence to the spell. The candles weren’t enough for her. Too flickery, too many shadows. Poor little pup just freaked out. But now she has a jar of fireflies. She fell asleep holding it.”  “You did good, Paradox, and I am—”  “I did do good, didn’t I?” Paradox seemed taken aback by this for some reason. “A wizard is supposed to provide for their community. But provide what? That part isn’t made clear.” She paused to listen to a chirping bird for a moment, then focused an intense stare upon Sundance. “It was such a tiny bit of magic… well, except for the permanence thing. But the firefly lantern, that’s a basic school project. That’s introduction to magical arts type stuff. I never once thought that I’d use it outside of school, but I did… I did. Bonk was so enchanted by the fireflies in the jar that she stopped crying. It was pitiful, her crying. And now I am wondering if Princess Celestia had something else in mind when she planned out our art projects and school projects… if she had some other purpose in mind.”  “Some of those lessons might’ve lost their relevance in the modern era,” Sundance said to Paradox while he took in every word that she’d spoken. “We have things like electric night lights and such now. But those don’t work here. I’d imagine that those, uh, firefly lanterns were common gifts back in the day. A means to keep foals quiet.” He felt the need to say more, but he was overwhelmed by his thoughts.  “I wonder if Princess Celestia’s curriculum is designed to teach us how to cope with the fall of civilisation.” Paradox curled her fetlock around her narrow chin and began to stroke while she squinted in deep thought.  “Keep up the good work, Paradox. I must go… a flood must be released.”  “Eeeugh!” The prim unicorn with bloodshot eyes recoiled. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”    “I have returned,” Sundance announced as he strolled into the infirmary. “But not to stay. River, I’m pretty sure that you’re awake, so hear me out.” He waited for a response, and when he didn’t get one, he continued anyway. “I have a cellar you can stay in. Deep underground. Princess Celestia kept her secrets down there, because the rock blocks magic and such. You can have the mental quiet that you crave. “Of course, ponies do go down there occasionally, it is a storage area, and I did promise that Princess Luna can stay there if Steadfast needs a quiet place to recover. But most of the time, it should be a quiet, secluded space. Some of it is temperature controlled. We can move a bed down there, and get you out of the infirmary, because I’d imagine that the thoughts of others is causing you some discomfort right now.”  “Is he always this thoughtful and considerate?” River Raider rumbled.  “Sometimes more so,” Corduroy replied. “It’s a good idea though. We’ll get a bed set up down there and then I’ll carry you there myself.”  “I can walk.” River Raider almost sounded like a petulant foal.  “Doubtful.” Corduroy’s caretaker demeanour was ironclad. Resolute. Unwavering. “Sundance, I approve of this plan. Patient comfort is a high priority. We should get a bed set up right away, some food perhaps, and make her room comfortable. Her recovery is going to take a while. We should reduce her mental stress.”  “Will your wings grow back?” asked Sundance.  To which River Raider replied, “Of course. Draconic regeneration is a thing, you know. It’ll take a while though. New skin will grow and the membrane will establish itself. Then it will have to be stretched, and that is the worst part of the whole process. Stretch too hard and the new membrane tears itself, which means starting over. It’s a pain. Yet another aspect of my flawed design. My whole body is a testament to flawed design.”  “Corduroy, you don’t mind the extra walk when you do your rounds?”  “No, Sundance. Might be nice to stretch my legs.” The canine nurse scratched her chin absentmindedly. “Actually, the excuse to stretch my legs sounds nice. It’ll be a treat.”  A scowl spread over Sundance’s face and he worried about his overworked nurse. The walk meant more work, but at least it was welcome work. As for River Raider, she seemed to be in the middle of a pity party, and he did nothing to hide his thoughts or prevent himself from thinking them. He didn’t think of her body as flawed at all. Different? Perhaps. But desirable. He did curb those thoughts when they happened, and instead focused on the task at hoof. One of his residents had special needs, and he would provide somehow.  “Ugh, you and your nauseating goodness. I think I’m going to spew.” This statement was accompanied by an ominous rumble from River Raider’s guts.  “I, uh, really should be going. Breakfast. Stuff. Stuff that must be done. Tasks.”  “Urp… oh, I hate being poisoned… it keeps happening. Ulp.”  “Yeah, I should be going,” Sundance announced, and then he departed as River Raider’s innards gurgled alarmingly. “Good luck, Corduroy!”    Sundance had himself a bit of a hooligan headache. Yesterday, he hadn’t had himself much tea, and now, he felt the creeping influence of hooliganism in his mind, just behind the eyes and in between the temples. A cup of tea would sort this out. He worried that a nagging headache might cause him to behave poorly… like a hooligan. Just a nice hot cuppa, that was all he needed. Maybe two. Yes, two or maybe three would make the headache go away.  Carnation Nosegay was the tea server this morning, because Paradox had pulled an all-nighter. She seemed a bit harried, poor Carnation, and Sundance patiently waited his turn without causing a fuss. The established rule was first come, first served, and it didn’t matter that he was the Milord: he could wait his turn like everypony else. Still, Carnation seemed a bit frazzled and cast worried glances in his direction.  “Breakfast, Milord?” asked Sauerkraut.  “Maybe later,” he replied. “For now, I am content with tea. What’s for breakfast, anyhow?”  “Cornmeal mush,” the old mare said as she shuffled on her hooves. “Hard boiled eggs. Dried fruit and oat loaf.”  “Sauerkraut… I’ve always wondered… how exactly does an earth pony deal with a hard boiled egg? The shell I mean. I don’t mean to be rude, but I am curious.”  “Milord, we crack it under hoof, roll it around for a bit, and then we use the tip of our tongues to flick away the bits of shell. Sometimes, no matter our efforts, our breakfast egg is crunchy. As a pegasus, Milord, don’t you do the same?”  “Well, almost,” he began. “I do crack it with my hoof, but then I use my wings to wipe away the bits of shell. Which makes a huge mess and then I have dirty, stinky wings. Which might be why I avoid hard boiled eggs, now that I think about it.”  “Good news, Milord… young Miss Nosegay has already peeled the eggs. Saved us all a load of trouble, she has. She’s a good egg… sometimes.” And with that, Sauerkraut hurried off to check on others.    The heat of the day made Sundance lazy. He stood near the waterfall, close enough to be moistened by the egg-scented mist, and he was tempted to go for a swim in the basin. His wings were kept away from his sides in a last-ditch effort to remain cool, and his thoughts were of his old neighborhood—the corner stores with freezer displays full of ice cream.  Baltimare would be sweltering by now, no doubt. With the swamp nearby, it would be the worst kind of muggy, with temps in the triple-digits. Everypony would be sweaty and the city itself would smell like hot, swampy ass. Tempers would flare, traffic would back up, and everything would be made all the worse from rolling brownouts, which seemed to grow worse every summer.  Crime would be on the rise and correlated by ice cream sales.  A part of him didn’t miss Baltimare at all.  Just as he was about to go for a dip to cool off, he was approached by Potato. She seemed calm (a good indicator that nothing was wrong) but she only came to him when something was up. Potato appeared to be a little baked, and strands of sweat-soaked mane clung to her ears and neck. The dear old mare also seemed to be a little cranky, testy perhaps—though Sundance could not say why. There was just something about her that seemed out of sorts.  “Something wrong, Potato?” he asked preemptively.  “A stranger comes by wing,” the old mare replied.  “We have a visitor.”  “It’s hot, Milord… I don’t much like hot.”  “Yeah, today is turning out to be a scorcher.”  “Well, I don’t like it. Makes the skin hot.”  He nodded; his own skin did indeed feel hot, and a bit too tight. Yesterday, he spent most of the day freezing while he recovered from spider venom. Potato’s tail flicked from side to side, not to swat at flies, but probably from annoyance. Sundance tried to sympathise with her; she’d lived a hard life, one without air conditioning or good heating. She was a mare whose life was lived at the mercy of the seasons—until now. Things had improved a little.  “Go inside, Potato, and maybe cool off. It’s cool inside the domes, is it not?”  “It is, Milord,” she was quick to reply. “But there is work to be done, and I can’t keep watch if I’m inside.”  “Go for a dip,” he suggested.  “But… there is work to be done.” One eye drifted towards the glistening waters of the basin, while the other sort of remained focused upon Sundance. At least focused in his general direction.  “Work can be done while you’re wet, Potato.”  Her tail ceased to flick from side to side, to and fro, and she gnawed her top lip, tugging at it with her teeth until her nostrils stretched wide. While she considered what to do, Sundance wondered who might be dropping by, and if they had a new resident. He waved his wings around to try and cool himself, and wondered how pegasus ponies survived in places like Las Pegasus. His wings were just too hot and itchy right now, and he hated them just a little bit.  Nearby, a burrowing owl ran helter-skelter through a terraced garden in pursuit of ever-elusive vermin. Chickens pecked at bugs stirred up by the rampaging owl. There was a muffled squeak when the owl caught its prey, and then the chase was over. A little brown mouse vanished down into the owl’s gullet, its little hind legs and tail twitched as if to wave goodbye.  Potato said nothing, but acted. The old mare moved with a grace and speed that belied her age. She went from standing to a brisk canter in the span of an eyeblink, lept into the air, tucked all four of her legs against her body, and then cannonballed into the basin. Sundance was instantly drenched, and he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. Potato paddled in circles around where the waterfall fell into the basin, and then dunked her head beneath the falling water itself to get herself properly drenched.  “Thank you for that, Potato. That was… brisk and refreshing.”  “Yer welcome, Milord,” she replied.    The strange pegasus landed on the runway with a skilled drop, then spent a moment to have a good look around. Sundance approached, curious, and still drenched with water, he held out one wing to wave at the stranger. This pegasus was clean, fastidious, and was somehow not at all windblown after his flight. His mane? Perfect. His tail? Immaculate. Sundance couldn’t help but wonder how the stranger did it.  “Hello, and welcome to the Sunfire Barony,” Sundance said to the stranger. “I’m Sundance.”  “I am Legal Dispatcher Booker Worthwood, Princess Twilight Sparkle’s appointed messenger. Greetings, Lord Sundance. You are hereby summoned to attend the Royal Court of Princess Twilight Sparkle two days from now—”  “Say again?”  “—and failure to comply means that Princess Twilight will summon you with whatever means at her disposal.”  “Oh, I wouldn’t refuse her…”  “I am obligated to deliver the message in full.”  “Oh. Alright then. Thank you.” Sundance scratched the top of his head with one wet wing and water trickled down the sides of his face. “I was expecting a summons. I didn’t know it would be so formal.” He pulled his wing away. “What time?”  “Come as early as possible. She has cleared her whole day to speak to you, so arrive at your earliest convenience.” Booker moved a step closer, then said, “She is eager to see you. Expect a pleasant visit. You have nothing to worry about. I do apologise for the formality, but this is Royal Business and you… you are a Baron. I would be remiss were I to address you as a commoner and summon you as a supplicant.”  “Oh… right. I suppose so. I’m not real big on the formality thing, myself. Don’t know much about it.”  Booker either smiled, or smirked, Sundance couldn’t tell. “I’ll be sure to inform Princess Twilight that a casual setting would put you at ease.”  “Should I bring anything?” asked Sundance.  “Like what?” Booker replied.  “I don’t know… a pen?”  “This is not a secondary school exam.” Booker’s voice was impeccably polite and lacked any trace of sarcasm. “If you must bring something, bring your wits. Princess Twilight has high expectations of you, good sir.”  “Uh, that doesn’t help me. Not at all.” Sundance’s wings closed against his sides with a wet slap. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. Ponies have high expectations of me, and I don’t know why. Why can’t somepony just have realistic expectations of me?”  “I must be going,” Booker said with a bow of his head. He reached into his saddlebags with one wing and pulled out a wooden scroll tube that bore Twilight Sparkle’s mark on one capped end, and a sunflower on the other. With a graceful flourish, Booker held it out for Sundance to take.  “You just arrived. Would you like a drink? A snack? A moment to rest and refresh?”  “Well…” Booker paused, thoughtful.  Sundance took the scroll tube and held it with his wing. “Please, stay for a while.”  “If you insist, but I cannot stay long. I have declarations of war to deliver to corporate heads in Canterlot.” Booker withdrew his outstretched wing. “Thank you. I am obligated to inform Princess Twilight of your hospitality. It is rare that somepony shows kindness to one of her messengers.”  “I try to be kind,” Sundance said, “until I can’t be.”