Bright prospects
“Milord… you brought back tiny birdhouses, so you did.” With a lot of blinking, Cucumber tried to make sense of what was in the cart. “Only those don’t look like birdhouses on closer inspection. What are those?” Knees popping, he stepped away while Sundance extracted himself from his harness.
“I stopped by Madam Beeswax’s Apiary Supply before coming home and I bought four gently used starter hives. Ponies in Canterlot keep bees for their gardens. Some do. The cold and extreme weather makes it difficult.” Sundance wiggled free and shimmied off the last strap while his peasants openly ogled his every move. “Today, I learned that I am the Rainbringer and I feel good about life, Cucumber.”
“Excellent, Sire.” Cucumber’s thin lips stretched into a warm, pleased smile.
“I also got paid. And that money I made was used to buy the hives. Those hives are going to make us some bits, Cucumber. Sulphured honey is expensive, let me tell you. I have no idea how to keep bees though. Minor detail. We’ll sort things out.”
“Sire, some of the peasants are bee hummers. I can’t pretend to understand it, that magic is beyond me, so it is, but some of them can charm bees. Like Hoe Hum. Why, if I didn’t know better, Milord, I’d say she uses her come-hither charms on the bees. She’s still quite a looker, that one, so she is.”
Though it wasn’t cold, Sundance shivered and then went on to say, “I need to find a way to catch a hive-tortoise. Madam Beeswax told me about them. Magical creature that lives in the Everfree. Some kind of special tortoise whose shell grows in such a way that bees can make a hive in it. The tortoise, being cold-blooded, gets a source of heat and isn’t as dependent upon the sun. The bees get a lovely home, I guess. I don’t really care about that part of it—but I want one or two to live in our orchard. I figure we can feed the hive-tortoise some fruit .”
“Milord, that sounds like a wonderful way to get stung.” Raising one eyebrow, Cucumber’s demeanour suggested quiet disapproval for the idea.
Sensing that his retainer was less than pleased with the idea, Sundance said to his most trusted servant, “Cucumber, the barony must prosper…”
Most of the orchard was a shambles, overrun, overgrown, and in dire need of tending. Only a small section remained, a sad, depressing spot was the only suggestion of the orchard’s former glory. It too, existed in a gully, or perhaps it was a canyon, Sundance wasn’t sure. A crack in the rocks with an opening on both ends. A creek rambled through the length of the crevice, and the rushing waters turned this place into a sort of flood plain.
Rich black dirt was under hoof, the blackest black dirt, and Sundance realised that his barony was blessed with an abundance of this precious stuff. He knew nothing about soil, but he had a vague understanding that this was… volcanic? It came from higher up in the mountains and was brought down when the snows melted. The many streams, brooks, creeks, and cricks deposited the soil in cracks and fields just like this one.
The orchard wasn’t wide, but it was long. Oh boy, was it long. It had to be over a mile—maybe two or longer. It was twisty, crooked, jagged with sharp angles. The sheer length and lack of straight lines presented a problem of sorts, at least, Sundance believed it to be a problem. It was a lot of land to work, full of brambles, thickets, and thorns, it was a veritable green Tartarus. Asking an earth pony to clear the worst parts of it smacked Sundance as being downright cruel.
Yet, it had to be cleared.
A way would have to be found.
“It was once glorious,” said Birnen Streusel to his Baron in a voice that cracked with melancholy. “Once, it fed the ponies of Canterlot. But as we declined, so too did our orchard. Over time, we only worked what was needed to feed ourselves. This cleft of land once produced more food than any other spot of soil in Equestria. Princess Celestia would come here to walk its lengths when she was troubled.”
“Now she doesn’t come at all, and who can blame her?” Kant Apfel added.
“Those cliff walls are steep.” Sundance gestured at the almost sheer walls as he spoke. “Those tiny narrow stairs can’t possibly be used to move goods in and out of this place. If this place made so much food, how was it moved?”
“The creek, Milord.” Birnen pointed at the water. “Floodgate and others used to keep the creek cleared of big stones that would wash down during the melt-floods. Everything would get loaded into flat-bottomed barges and the stoutest among us would pull those down to the end of the canyon, where there was a stockhouse. The stockhouse is gone. It collapsed one day, after a storm.”
Getting this place productive would be a monumental undertaking, Sundance realised.
A fertile gully like this one was a rare prize and this had been squandered. It was sad, really. Sundance looked left, then right, and his head swiveled from side to side as he took everything in. Some of the walls glistened with slimy yellow deposits, places where spring water oozed out from the cracks. The sulphurous musk was strong even here, and he wondered what Princess Celestia must have thought about the stench. Maybe it didn’t bother her. Perhaps she didn’t mind.
“The water made hauling our fruit and produce almost effortless,” Kant Apfel said as she sidled a little closer to Sundance. “We moved tons of goods. More than I know how to measure. Moving everything along this stretch was easy. It was a little harder further out, as everything had to be loaded into carts and hauled the hard way.”
“Where does this creek go?” Sundance asked, wondering if the waterway might somehow be redirected. Canals for moving goods sounded smart, but were also a tremendous effort to construct.
“Oh, it goes right into the Sulphur Suckhole,” Birnen replied. “Big hole in the ground. Sometimes, it fills up a bit and becomes something like a big pond or a small lake. It’s a low place out in the middle of the marsh, and many streams and creeks drain into it. Where the water goes, I have no idea.”
“When the war ended,” Kant Apfel continued, “the captured traitors were marched to the Sulphur Suckhole and thrown in. Down they went.”
Almost shivering, Sundance wondered if the previous Milord dumped unwanted peasants down the suckhole, and he suffered a grim mental image of poor, hapless, unwanted ponies being flushed away. Ponies with broken legs, or those unable to work. Slapping his wings against his sides, he pulled himself together. Already, the sun was sinking lower and the shadows had grown long. It would be time to head home soon, and leave this marvellous neglected place.
“Begin clearing as much as you can,” Sundance instructed. “But do nothing that will injure yourselves. I don’t like the look of those thorns. I’ll find another way to clear those out. Maybe a controlled burn, or a gang of burny-go-lucky unicorns can be brought in. Reclaim as many of the trees as possible, and help me find a good spot to locate the hives. We need a sheltered, secured place. Our honey will be liquid gold and we don’t want some dumb animal ruining our fortunes.”
“Floodgate will be happy to clear the creek again.” Birnen stood a little taller, a little prouder, and held his head high.
“I want this place fit for Princess Celestia to have a stroll again,” Sundance commanded. “She deserves that. This is her ancestral land. Whatever it takes. Keep me informed of progress and let me repeat myself… do nothing that will cause significant injury. I don’t want you hurt. You know, I bet those thickets are full of bunnies and critters that eat our crops. An army of owls might fix that.”
“Milord, come quick!”
Potato was so excited that her eyes were darting around in random, opposite directions. “What is it, Potato? Is there trouble? Is somepony hurt?”
“A new mark, Milord! A new mark! The barony has a new mark!” Then, perhaps overcome with excitement, the old mare went pronking off, bounding and bouncing about as if she were a weightless yearling.
Shaking his head, Sundance watched her go, wishing that she had told him more of what was going on. How long had it been since the barony had seen a new mark? Decades, perhaps? The question remained, who, and why? It had to be one of the foals, but again, who, and why? Sundance found himself oddly excited and hopeful, because a good mark was his barony’s prosperity.
It seemed the others shared his optimism, as there were a lot of happy ponies milling about, grinning, and chatting with one another. Why, work had stopped entirely, an indicator of just how important this was. An owl perched on the roof of a hovel let go with a blood-curdling scream that made every muscle in Sundance’s body go tense. Flapping his folded wings against his sides in an effort to release his tension, Sundance made his way to the dining hall, hoping to find Cucumber so he could find out what was going on.
The strong scent of tea was like a smack in the face and Sundance’s mouth watered. A few ponies were gathered around the table, Cucumber among them, and Sundance realised he was late for tea. What was left of it was still spread out on the long wooden table and as he approached, several heads turned to look at him, including Hollyhock, who looked quite pleased.
But nopony looked more pleased than Lemongrass, who fairly beamed. Tilting his head, Sundance looked down at the unicorn colt and saw a most welcome sight: a teapot, a teacup, and a saucer. It was a good mark, a mark of refinement. A pony suited for serving tea, by the looks of it. He stood there, silent, and thought of Sweetie Belle. There were many ways to view such a mark, and any number of meanings. Rather than say anything, he decided that the colt should find his own meaning. But still, Sundance was pleased to see what was a sure sign of promise, an improvement in the barony’s fortunes.
“That’s a good looking mark,” said Sundance to the colt who looked up at him.
Overcome, the colt made a curious sound, and after twisting about, he clung to his mother’s foreleg, rubbing his cheek against her. Sundance could remember doing that with his mother, and a peculiar sense of emotion overtook him. Nostalgia? He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he liked it, even if it made him just a little bit sad.
“Sire, he was trying to help me with the tea. He can’t lift much yet, but the fact that he can lift anything at all at such an age is surprising, so it is. He’s got a good sparker on his noggin, so he does. He was setting out the sugar when his mark appeared.” The old retainer almost seemed a bit misty-eyed. “A mark of refinement, so it is. Perhaps it’ll return us to a time of lords and ladies, so it might.”
Try as he might, Sundance could not remember Cucumber ever being quite so animated. The old, ancient, withered unicorn was almost foalishly excited, from the looks and sounds of things. And for good reason; after a long, torturous winter, the barony was starting to thaw out. This was the first green shoot to appear, the promise of new life. One life, with a purpose that would impact the lives of all.
“I’ve never seen him this happy,” Hollyhock said, keeping her voice down. “Normally, he’s so withdrawn. So much so that others have called him slow. But look at him right now. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Lemongrass, I think yer Baron wants a cup of tea.” Cucumber’s words held a gentle firmness. “Help me. We’ll do this together. I’ll guide you. It won’t do to spill tea on yer Baron, so it won’t.”
The colt’s response was instant, dramatic. He sat up, pulled himself away from his mother, and with his hooves clattering against the wooden floor, he scrambled over to where Cucumber sat. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, but not a word was said; Cucumber did nothing to ruin the moment. Refinement would come later, when it was necessary.
A cup was put down, which Lemongrass did on his own. Then, as the colt’s eyes glittered with fierce concentration a paper-thin slice of crystalised lemon was dropped into the cup. One cube of sugar was dropped in, and then came the heavy lifting. Together, the two unicorns lifted the teapot and filled the cup.
Hollyhock was teary-eyed, but silent.
Nudging the colt, Cucumber said in a low whisper, “Sometimes a bit of flattery for the Baron is to be served with tea. More on that later.”
Sundance reached out with his injured wing, thought better of it, and instead reached out with his good wing. The teacup was light and he held it in his primaries with ease, a trick he had learned from his mother as a colt. Think about gripping the air, she had told him, that same concentration that one used when flying, and so too will things cling to your primaries if you think about it hard enough.
Lifting his cup, he had himself a slurp of the still-steaming liquid.
The colt watched with bright, eager eyes, his tiny ears pricked and quivering. Tea with lemon was a fine thing indeed, a soothing, calming, restorative drink after such a long, long day. He’d almost suffered an exciting unexpected landing in the Froggy Bottom Bogg, had lunch with his mentor and her friend, and brought home the first of many beehives that would change the fortunes of his barony.
Heaving a contented sigh, Sundance gave the colt a pleased nod.
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I have to say this is my favorite fic of your keep it up kudzu
Ok, I’m basically picturing a Galapagos giant tortoise with a porous shell that looks slightly like a termite mound. Smashing idea, I like it.
The thing about ships with you Kudzu is that you could have someone fall in love with a rock and we will love every word of it,
9252445
I was halfway through a highball glass of fine rum when I thought of it.
And yeah, termite mound is an accurate description.
I love watching all the positive progress being made in this chapter! Small improvements, with new big improvements on the horizon!
Yeah, somehow from what I have read, I don't think that sweetie is strong enough to really be his type. Then again maybe things might be a little different since she seemed to make such a good connection to him. I am rather curious to see where this goes, if anywhere.
9252457
How fine? Are we talking Ron Zapaca 21 year old, or what?
9252476
Westerhall Plantation.
It's not too fancy, as I am impoverished.
wallywine.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/1800x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/1/2/128729.jpg
Got to be honest, the tortoise sounds creepily interesting. Right now, more creepy than I'd like.
I suspect it won't take too long to get the orchard up and being fruitful again. Especially with ponies who know what they are doing. Thinking about it, even just putting out the empty hives (I'm assuming they are empty) in a blossoming orchard would be very attractive to a hive that is swarming or a new queen.
Go, Lemongrass!
I’ll bet Fluttershy could help Sundance catch and take care of some hive-tortoises. Few know the creatures of the Everfree as well as she does.
I think Cucumber might see Lemongrass as his heir apparent.
You know I don't know if sweetie and Sun would work well together on their own both of them are a little bit passive though sweetie is pretty manipulative so I could see it working on some level on the other hand what if we brought in someone to be dominant to both of them some strapping Adventurer stallion/Mare though I would personally prefer if it was a stallion
9252448
...this just made me wonder where Boulder has been throughout the Weedverse.
While Sundance has been endearing himself a lot more to his peasants, I worry how they might think of him/ some of his Canterlot friends if his/ their sexuality were to come up. The peasants have an extremely old school, traditional worldview and I don't expect that it is one that is particularly accepting of anything outside of heterosexuality. Sundance's own confusion about how he feels would only make it more complex and difficult to explain. With all he has been doing for them and the loyalty he inspires I doubt it would cause the good relations to break down, but you never know.
9253237
Luckily enough and weirdly enough, if you go back and research enough history deep enough and into the weirdest parts: even lords and kings took male lovers even during Judeo-Christian times especially if they took an oath of celibacy because as we all know “celibacy” is when you don’t stick something somewhere to create life, or take part in the act thereof
9252933
Well knowing that canonically Gummy is a lot more then he appears. and knowing what we know from Pebble... Guys Boulder might be Cthulhu.
9253569
I have always believed that Boulder was a changeling.
9253575
Well that would make much more sense then wouldn't it.
Hive-tortoise reproduction seems like it would be a very delicate affair.
Owls, owls! Owls and bees! /Oprah
It's looking to me more and more than Lemongrass is going to be Cucumber's apprentice.
I care more about his grand plan to restore the barony than romantic drama to be honest. If its wedged in its very noticeable and jarring. Let it come naturally or don't add it in would be suggestion. So far this story has me checking in daily for updates, bravo!
9256399
Oh, most of these 'attempts' will explode spectacularly. Or not at all.
with things as they are in this place, even the most simple things feel wonderful