Owls; something had changed with the owls. Only half-awake, Sundance tried to recall his dreams. Twilight Sparkle was his teacher yet again, but there was also guest-teacher Moondancer. Once more, he was a foal, just a tiny thing really, and the classroom seemed so large. Wings half-spread, he gave himself a shake, yawned, and then just stood there because he hadn't slept long enough. Litany was there; he was sure of that. She was a foal as well, but also an annoying teacher's pet because she had the answers, while he did not.
But the dream made one thing exceptionally clear; the owls were changing, becoming something greater than mere owls. The details were still there in Sundance's mind, but elusive and difficult to catch as they retreated from wakefulness. All of the owls were aware, they were awakened. They knew things that owls could not normally know, and they were smarter. Beyond that, a parliament of owls had a sort of group-mind. A collective sapience that grew in strength and ability through numbers. Sundance barely understood it, at least on a surface level, but deep down in the depths of his mind, he knew.
He knew because he was connected to the owls by some means beyond his comprehension.
Litany, the annoying know-it-all, was given homework to study this connection.
It had everything to do with the land, and to the crystal tree as well. So long as he remained a faithful steward, a servant that worked tirelessly and endlessly, these powers would manifest. They would grow and change him. But the moment he turned against the better interests of the land, these powers, these abilities, they would wither. They would shrivel up and be gone from him. Though not the smartest pony, Sundance understood why, at least in a sense.
The land had the means to choose its own steward now.
If he—or his bloodline—failed, another would be chosen.
One morning, many moons from now, perhaps not long after getting out of bed, one of his distant progeny would find themselves beset by a furious parliament of owls, and probably whatever creatures had fallen beneath the land's influence. Sundance had an exceedingly bright and vivid series of mental imagery that showed him exactly how this might end. Once that loose end was dealt with—and it would be dealt with—another would be chosen.
Having just crawled out of his bedbox, he shivered violently, and then was fine.
"If I mess up, they'll peck out my eyes," he said to himself as he went about his day.
"You didn't get much sleep," Paradox said to Sundance.
"I didn't?" he asked.
"You didn't," was her response, which also came with a nod.
"I suppose that is for the best. I mean, if I slept all day, then I'd be up all night. And that… that would be weird."
"You were just up all night. Was it weird?"
"It might have been? I could see in the dark."
The snort that erupted from Paradox blew back Sundance's mane.
"It's not natural, staying up all night, Paradox. I am a proper creature of the day."
"There's only one reason to stay up past sundown," Hoe Hum said as she joined the conversation.
"I'm leaving," Paradox said to nopony in particular, and then she left with two shakes of her somewhat disheveled tail.
Polite, but also determined, Hoe Hum waited until Paradox was some distance away before she leaned in closer to Sundance and said, "There's nothing wrong with planting some onions after dark."
Intrigued, Sundance gave this some thought, and then asked, "Planting onions?"
"Aye," she said, nodding enthusiastically. "Planting onions."
Beset by uncertainty, Sundance could not determine if Hoe Hum was being lewd, which she was prone to do, or actually sharing some obscure earth pony tradition. Perhaps they did plant onions after dark. Maybe there was a reason. Perhaps if he stayed up past his bedtime and paid attention to the goings-on afterdark, he might be more aware of these things. He didn't dare ask though, for fear of looking like a total buffoon.
"As much as I would love to carry on this conversation," Sundance said to Hoe Hum, "I really should be checking up on our new resident. And getting stuff done. I still haven't greeted our guests."
"I greeted them," Hoe Hum said. "Yesterday."
There was an immediate and pressing sense of concern, which nearly overwhelmed Sundance. "Oh, goodness me."
"He's a charmer." Hoe Hum leaned in a little closer to Sundance, clucked her tongue, and then she nodded her head. "Made me think of when I was young, and I was up all night planting onions."
Unsure of how to respond, Sundance smiled; it was the only thing he could think of.
"It's hot," the old mare said. "Everything is all sticky and sweaty. I don't much care for the summer. I think I'll go and cool my nethers in the waterfall pool."
Then, before Sundance could think of a suitable response, she was gone, off to soak her nethers.
Things did not quite go as planned. Sundance would have met with the newest mouth to feed, but school was currently in session. Which was a good thing, because it instilled a sense of normalcy to this place. Things were getting better. When he first arrived, a day was something that one waited out. Now, there were activities. School was a good start, a great beginning. There was more to do, but having school in session gave him a sense of accomplishment.
Nearby, Sulky, Pea, and Floodgate herded up a rather large group of grazers. Floodgate worried about summer fires and lightning strikes, and wanted to create a fire break outside of the box canyon they all called home. Sundance watched as the group gathered, and thought about Floodgate's curious habits. Beyond just dealing with water, Floodgate dealt with the flow of things. The old coot had an understanding of how things moved from one place to another. Fire was just one more thing that flowed and Floodgate somehow knew how to manage.
Romulus and Remus circled the herd and seemed to know exactly what to do.
An army of chickens was on the march, on a mission to seek and destroy ticks. The rooster, a greying specimen that was still spry, patrolled the long grass and kept an eye on his hens. The chickens earned their keep; not just with fresh eggs, but by eradicating the many pests and troublesome insects. Sundance was only just starting to get a sense of ecology, and an appreciation for how each life depended on one another here.
He was still uncertain of his own place, but was confident that he had a purpose to serve.
A family of ponies gamboled and pronked beneath the watchful gaze of aged guardsponies. Sharp-eyed, Sundance noticed the guards were all older and this might very well be their retirement. They still wore their golden armor with pride and their regal bearing could be seen with every movement. Some stood on the deck of the old yacht, while others formed a perimeter around the family which Sundance was on his way to greet.
One mare, an earth pony, was a light toasty brown with a darker brown mane and tail. A foal hung from a carrier slung around her neck. The second mare was a unicorn; she was also light brown, almost identical to the first, but had a vivid red mane and tail. A golden stallion with a pale green mane and tail followed them in a merry chase. Together, they seemed particularly happy, as if they hadn't enjoyed themselves for quite some time and finally had a chance to cut loose. They were city ponies, that much was clear even from a distance.
Seeing them, watching them together, made Sundance aware of what he was missing in his life. There were friends, sure. Though the bond between him and Paradox went beyond mere friendship and was now most assuredly familial. Stricken by some feeling, some emotion, Sundance paused mid-step and then just stood there so that he could watch as the family played together. He didn't want to interrupt them, or spoil their fun; but interrupt them he did, and the stallion broke off the chase to come over and say hello.
"Dears," the stallion said in a deeply drawn out drawl, "do come over and say hello to one of the wildlings. I do declare, he seems friendly enough."
Unable to help himself, Sundance smiled. The drawl was cultured. Charming. Roguish. In movies, it was the distinct voice of a dandy. Almost right away, Sundance was envious and he wished that he spoke with such cultured elegance. It almost made his knees weak and he was immediately infatuated by the sound—so much so that he wanted to spend the rest of the day listening to it.
"It seems a notorious feline pilferer has made off with your tongue, sir. Are you in need of assistance to catch said giblet burglar?" A smile—no, a smirk masquerading as a smile. "Or did you come to look and no words are necessary?"
"I'm Sundance. Sundance. Uh, Sundance. The Baron. Baron the Sundance."
"Oh my," the stallion replied. "I do expect to be taken to task for my crass witticisms and offhoof remark about wildlings. I shall have myself spanked forthwith. Dears, I am in need of harsh discipline… see that I get it. Later. Tonight. Though a public display might well mend my sullied reputation."
Cheeks blazing, Sundance was certain that the sun shone hotter just now to spite him.
"My name, good sir, is Argyle Ascot. You may call me Mister Ascot if you wish, but if you wish for me to be an accessory around your neck, I insist that you call me Argyle. These are my wives, the Turnover Sisters. The earth pony is Fudge Turnover, and her sister, her twin, the unicorn, is Cherry Turnover. That adorable lump and evidence of treacherous earth pony biology is Liberty Belle. Her midnight wailings shall be my undoing… but what is a doting father to do?"
"Charmed," both sisters said in unison, and then they began to titter.
"I came to make enemies… or friends… one of those two things," Argyle Ascot said to Sundance. "In politics, it seems that friends and enemies are one in the same. All of my compatriots have turned upon me so I left the city to find new faces that might also hate me in due time. Do tell, how shall we begin, sir? Are we to pretend to be friends for a time for the sake of civility, or do we progress to outright gut-hating and save ourselves some effort? It is dreadfully warm… I daresay the heat evokes a sense of laziness."
"Um…" Unable to do much else, Sundance stood there and ummed.
"Oh, you are a peach." This time, when Argyle Ascot smiled, his teeth bared. He licked them with his thin, nimble tongue, and then let go with a good-natured chuckle. "Twilight has told me so much about you… but you seem to know nothing about me. Sir, that pricks my vanity and I do not like it." He cleared his throat, flashed a devious-thievious grin, and gestured at the yacht. "We have much to discuss. Would you care to do it indoors? Perhaps over a fine lunch? Cherry made potato salad. Perhaps we can tempt you with a meal."
"I'd like that," Sundance replied after he found his tongue.
"I do apologise for such cramped quarters," Argyle Ascot said as Sundance scooted himself over on a padded bench seat. "We are now homeless vagabonds and this derelict dingy is now our sole refuge. After pledging my full cooperation with the Crown over the asylum incident, an angry mob burned down the mayor's mansion… with the mayor and his family still inside of it. The nerve. I do declare, unruly mobs are so uncivilised."
Suddenly upset almost to the point of rage, Sundance frowned.
In the miniscule galley, Cherry went to work preparing lunch and started by setting plates out on the counter. Then she began pulling stuff out of the small refrigerator and the cupboards. A teakettle was placed on the stove and with a flicker of magical sparks, blue flames sprang into existence from the hissing gas burner. Meanwhile, Fudge dumped Liberty into a wooden highchair and then pushed it close to the table with a swift kick.
"Mmm, iced tea and hot tea," Fudge said. "We swing both ways and have everything."
"Everything important," Cherry said in response to her sister. "We have each other."
"And we have a handsomely scruffy guest." Argyle rested one perfectly hooficured hoof upon the table and crossed his eyes at his daughter while somehow maintaining an expression of perfect, dramatic seriousness. "Oh, you are precious, Libby. Yes you are!"
At long last, flustered beyond recovery, Sundance allowed himself to relax.