Above and below
The winds of early spring were icy as they blew down off of the mountain and the mist from the waterfall left a piercing chill in the air. In the distance, twenty-three faces all peered upwards as Sundance leveled out for his final approach. It was time to make a good landing and impress these ponies. No showing off, nothing fancy, no barrel rolls or loop-the-loops, just a good, sensible landing without crashing on his face. Gusting, the wind seemed to have something other in mind, but Sundance was a pegasus who prided himself for flying in any condition.
When he flew into the opening of the box canyon, the wind became a headlong gust, with no side gusts or crosscurrents. Down in the ravine, his keep had natural fortifications on three sides and Sundance, a pony who had no real education for war, even he could see why this might be considered a defensible position, at least from the ground. He flew northward, heading lengthwise into the prodigious crack in the ground.
Little round cottages could be seen, but were hard to spot because of the sod roofs. At the base of the rock spur in the middle of the box canyon—atop which the crooked tower sat—there was an immense cave entrance with colossal doors, an awe inspiring sight if ever there was one. Early spring plantings could be seen, little dots of green in the rich black soil. What had once been a keep was now a ruin spilled down the rear slope of the rock spur, and all that was left was the crooked, leaning tower.
At the furthest point back in the box canyon was the waterfall, which fell into an immense pool. Steam and mist rose from this pool, and while the waterfall appeared cold—so much so that chunks of ice could be seen tumbling over the edge with it—the rising steam suggested that the pool was quite hot. There were dozens of pools to be seen here, all of them steaming, some of them boiling, and the stench of rotten eggs was so strong that it could be tasted.
One pony broke apart from the rest and moved with a glacial, geriatric pace. This was a unicorn who might have once been green, but was now more grey than anything else. Ancient, withered, this unicorn moved only through great effort and a tremble could be seen in his knobby, swollen knees. Sundance dropped, folded in his wings against his side, and made a nice, clean landing on the mist-sprinkled grass.
“Milord,” the old unicorn said as he approached, his rickety knees popping. “Milord, I saw ya coming and I rang the bell. At least, I think ya is Milord, ya fit the description, so ya does.”
“I am Sundance,” he said, introducing himself.
“Cucumber.” The old unicorn nodded just once and then winced as his neck crackled. “I’m yer retainer, so I am. I keep the fires lit and I use my magic, so I does, to do things this lot can’t. But, Milord, this lot is a capable lot, so they is.”
Twenty-two faces all stared, but kept their distance and remained in silence.
Sundance turned to face his quaint unicorn retainer, and smiled. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Cucumber.”
“Very kind of you to say, Milord.”
“He don’t look like much and he kinda sounds like a ponce.”
Cucumber’s crooked, bushy eyebrows almost touched for a moment when his brow furrowed, and his tail whip-cracked with startling alacrity. “That would be Earwig, Milord. Shall I fetch the lash?”
“What? No!”
“Perhaps the hoofscrews? I keep them well oiled, Milord.”
“No… no!”
“Perhaps you favour a hot branding iron for insolence, Milord? I find the stench of burning hair unpleasant, but I can’t deny that it is a powerful motivator, Milord, so it is.”
“Branding iron?”
“Branding iron it is, Milord… a fine choice—”
“NO!”
“What is it to be, Milord? This rabble has to be kept in line somehow—”
“No torture! This isn’t the bloody Sanguine Age!”
“But Sire, I do so miss the screaming, so I does.”
Eyes narrowing, Sundance invaded the space of his retainer and looked the old stallion right in his bloodshot eyes. “Are you having a go at me?” Sniggering came from the crowd and Sundance’s ears, now burning, pricked straight up at the sound.
“He’s a bit slow, this one. I think he’ll need a foalsitter.”
“Right! Who said that!” Sundance whirled about to face the chortling mob.
“That’d be Earwax, Milord.”
“Who names a pony ‘Earwax?’ That seems cruel.”
“The previous Milord, Milord.”
Sundance went silent and took a much-needed moment to collect himself. Sucking in a deep breath of the sulphurous air, he studied the ponies staring at him, all of which were snickering. Earwig? Earwax? Probably all part of some joke, some way for his charming peasants to endear themselves to their new lord. There was no way the previous lord had named them ‘Earwig’ and ‘Earwax.’
“Aye, he’s still a baby. Methinks he needs a teat to suckle, a blanket, and naptime.”
Absolutely charming peasants.
Looking about, ignoring the snorts of laughter, Sundance allowed himself to be curious. The gargantuan doors had some sort of cave beyond, which seemed to be a barn or storage of some sort. There were a few cows, some goats, a few sheep that had not been shorn in a millennia, and clucking chickens chasing after the bugs in the grass. Tilting his head back, he glanced up at the crooked tower above him and wondered if it might topple over.
“Milord, perhaps you’d like something to eat, or a chance to rest, or maybe you’d like to see your quarters in the tower by chance?”
“That?” Sundance pointed upwards with his hoof.
“It’s seen better days, Milord. The roof leaks a bit and the upper floor is infested with owls. The floors have a bit of a slope to them, so they do. I’ve put down fresh straw for yer bed and tidied up your room a bit for ya, so I have.”
“I told ya he needed a nap—”
“Earwax, shut yer gob!”
“Make me, ya old coot!” Snorting, tossing her head about, the greying mare broke away from the herd. “This is boring! I’m going back to work because I have too much to do!”
“Me too.” A second mare followed the first, but Sundance could see that her eyes lingered upon him, not the direction she was trotting, though he could not read her expression.
“Alright you lot, all of ye… back to work! Spring planting needs to be finished and we’ve all got things to do, so we do!” Cucumber’s voice held a surprising amount of authority and had considerable volume. “Come and visit Milord here at yer leisure. Back to work!”
“It was nice meeting all of you,” Sundance added, hoping that he had at least left a good impression on them. Extending one wing, he waved as the crowd dispersed, with each heading off to do whatever it was they did. Some were still laughing, or chuckling at least, leaving him hopeful that he could still gain their admiration and trust.
“Come, Milord, to reach the tower it’s quite a climb.”
Everything about this tower had seen better days. The door seemed as if it might come off of its hinges, while the wood was worn and grey from weathering. Something grew in the cracks between the stones and Sundance tried to figure out what it was while he stood in the doorway, waiting for Cucumber to catch up. He felt bad that the old unicorn had to struggle to make it up here, but the old stallion seemed proud, leaving Sundance conflicted over what to do about the situation.
The floor was, indeed, slanted. No glass was in the narrow slit windows, allowing the wind to blow right in. Nothing of interest was on the first floor, save for a narrow flight of stone stairs and the thickest cobwebs that Sundance had ever seen. He crossed the floor, his hooves clicking against the stone, and gave the stairs a wary glance.
The stairs were nothing more than long stone blocks that protruded from the wall, which offered a narrow, treacherous means to reach the second floor. Each stone might have been squared off at some point in the past, but the edges were now worn and rounded, with no real flat surface to plant a hoof on. It was hard to believe that Cucumber could even ascend the stairs, yet the old unicorn had laid down fresh straw for a bed and had mentioned restocking the firewood while they had climbed up the rock spur together.
“Forgive me for speaking so plainly, Sire, but the previous Milord was a real cuss of an earth pony.”
Startled, Sundance whirled around to face his retainer, who stood in the doorway.
“He done named Earwig and Earwax after their mother died in foalbirth, so he did, as was his right. For all I know, he mighta been their father, as those two were just about the only mares he didn’t try to bed. His own father was even worse, if ya can believe that. I served in the war with him, I did. Not long after, he done killed himself, so he did, by throwing himself off a cliff and he left his son in charge. I’ve done seen a whole lot of history, so I have. Not sure how much, but it’s been a whole bloody lot.”
“He was an earth pony?” Sundance shook his head. “Nopony has mentioned that to me, not even once.”
“Sire, if I might be so bold as to say, there isn’t anything worse than an earth pony who treats other earth ponies like dirt. He held himself above them, even though he was one of them, and not a day passed that he didn’t remind them that they were filthy, dirty, disgusting mud ponies.”
Sundance’s mouth fell open and he stood agape.
“I feel bad saying all of this, so I do, but my loyalty lies with the land, so it does, and that old bastard is dead and gone. There’s a cemetery a ways out, and he’s buried there in an unmarked grave, with no headstone. We buried him, because we’re obligated, but not a one of us want to remember him.”
“I’m sorry,” Sundance offered, and he wished that he had more to say.
“That’s kind of you to say, Sire.” The old unicorn cleared his throat, a phlegmatic, hacking sound, and his weary, bloodshot eyes burned with an intense, focused stare. “Ya seem kind enough, Milord… but I wouldn’t hold yer breath hoping that this lot will trust ya. Some of us are old enough to remember two bad Milords, while the others spent their entire lives with just the one. It’s all we know. When Princess Celestia outlawed the lash, some of us got emboldened and made our displeasure known. Some of us even worked up the courage to leave, to run away, but not this lot. These earth ponies are connected to this land, and would be lost without it.”
“You know these ponies,” Sundance began and he rubbed his neck with the knuckle of his wing. “How do I make them happy? What do I do to make their lives better? Where I do begin to start fixing things?”
“Yer asking me?” The old unicorn blinked a few times, confused, and he shook his head.
“You seem to have the wisdom and experience.”
“Sire, I don’t have a lick of education. I just keep the fires lit and magic what needs magicking. It’s powerful tricky for an earth pony to try to start a nail.” The old unicorn’s ears fell, his spine sagged, and his head dropped until his neck was level with his spine.
Sundance nodded, wondering if Cucumber was aware that special holders existed for pegasus ponies and earth ponies to start nails. There was something else too, and it took several seconds of intense scrutiny to figure out what it was. Fear. Why was Cucumber so scared of a simple request?
“It seems to me that you run this place when—”
“No, Milord! Oh no! I would presume to usurp no authority! No, I’m just a humble retainer, that’s all! No more, no less! I would never, ever, under any circumstances ever do anything to undermine Milord’s righteous authority!”
Sundance lifted his head and noticed the old stallion was breathing hard, but also trying to hide it, doing his best to appear calm. He was panicked, his ears kept twitching, and had adopted a submissive posture of appeasement. Never in his life had Sundance ever seen a pony behaving quite like this old retainer was acting right now, and it puzzled him.
“The Separatists gained a lot of followers with the promise of unicorn rule, a return to the old ways, and I’m a Loyalist, so I am. I fought for this land… I bled for it… Almost died for it. My loyalty can’t be questioned, so it can’t! My blood has been poured into this soil… this is my home. I’ve stayed loyal.”
It was time to change the subject.
“You brought up fresh straw and firewood. This seems dangerous to you, Cucumber. Why didn’t somepony help you?”
Cucumber had a near-instant recovery of his composure, and straightened up a bit. “Milord, ain’t nopony else is allowed up here, them’s the rules.”
“New rule.” Sundance did his best to sound like his mother, who was authoritative and commanding. “You send somepony else up here to handle chores, because I don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t care who. In fact, I’m not sure if I should live up here—”
Cucumber’s eyes went wide, but the old unicorn offered up no other expression of surprise.
“—because this whole thing feels like it could topple over at any minute. It’s drafty, I can feel the wind blowing right through it, and I don’t feel right standing on a slope. It’s also mouldy, I think, and kinda slimy.”
The retainer cleared his throat, blinked once, and replied, “Sire, the Milord must live above his peasants. It’s symbolic, Milord, with ya up above us and we down below ya. To change that would upset the order… it’d be confusing.”
Sundance scraped his hoof over the stone floor, which was indeed, rather slimy. Some unknown black substance flourished in the cracks between the stones, and the pegasus knew that no amount of scrubbing would ever get this floor clean. The centuries of dirt and the constant sulphurous mist had at some point transmogrified into some horrendous goo, something that would no doubt give his mother fits.
“Ya don’t want to live in the tower?”
“Not really, no.” Sundance almost enjoyed watching Cucumber’s reaction and it seemed as though his retainer was performing some serious mental gymnastics. The unicorn’s old, withered, weathered, wrinkled face was really quite expressive.
“Sire cannot possibly want a hovel,” Cucumber said, his voice a raspy gargle from phlegm. “The floors are made of dirt—”
“And this floor is made of slime and stone. I’d rather live in that barn down below.”
“With the livestock?”
“Yes, with the livestock.”
“We have some empty cottages.” The old unicorn smacked his lips together and his knees trembled while he stood thinking. “They’ve gone to near ruin, so they have, but they could be fixed up. Sire… this will cause an upset. The rabble will think you’re trying to curry favour from them.”
“Cucumber, I want them to like me.” Tilting his head to one side, he tried not to think about how Canterlot was about a mile over his head, far, far above, and these ponies were down here, far, far below.
“But, Milord, this could be seen as grandstanding…”
“I don’t want to live in this slimy old death trap and that’s final!”
So... many... peasants... now... named. 
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The tower dont even sound like a fixer upper. Sounds like he needs a new tower.
8667644
it actually sounds like the previous two milords needed to fixer upper it. the current milord is probably wise considering mold spores would make him go nuts as the previous milords.
This is turning into a really intriguing entry in the Weedverse. As much as I want to see where Sumac, Tarnish, Flicker, and Dim's stories are going I'm finding myself quire sucked into this as well.
You never fail to craft interesting worlds man.
If they're really that much against Sundancer living among them, then he could instead construct a cloud mansion of his own, like Rainbow Dash has.
Lol. I rather like this Cucumber fellow, but it certainly seems he is not without his issues. The poor guy....
Out of curiosity, I Googled "unshorn sheep". Some of them are quite... imposing. Almost geological.
8667717
Cucumber would fall through then he'd be in a pickle.
Bro.
You got some work to do, bro.
The poor peasants aren't going to know what to do with their new baron. At least they'll know he isn't much like the previous barons. This could be entertaining and cringe-worthy. At the same time.
8667644
Or maybe a two-story hovel to represent his superior status.
8669601
But that’s not as aesthetically pleasing.
8669601
Living in a two story hovel, Lord Sundance became a little too full of himself, and went drunk with power from his newfound status. He began collecting thrones, big ones, and stored them on the second floor, above his peasants. One day, he collected one throne too many, and his hovel, made mostly of sod, collapsed and killed him.
The moral of this story is, ponies who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones.
The tower rather reminds me of the Concord Barn This Old House tried to restore a number of seasons back. It was in such bad shape that of the entire old barn they were able to save only enough to make a double door for the library.
8669624
:: THWAP ::
8669624
Booooooooooo!
8667644
After the current one has been purged by fire and C4 of course
8669624
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/672/429/542.png
8674310
I have no shame.
“With the livestock?”
Well, the cows snore, and the sheep have a open-ended craps game to all hours of the night, but they're not really *bad* neighbors.
once black mould settles in stonework the property becomes uninhabitable without expensive repeat treatments of fungicide, something the baronry cnnot afford, given black mould can be toxic he did the smart thing.
8698578
fungicide.... sulfur... solution...
Other matters... reparation, restructure, revitalize.