Foundations
An ancient foundation lay naked and exposed, with all of the roots and overgrowth cleared away to reveal a circular bed of stones. It had been powerscrubbed, leaving the stones in their natural shades of grey, darker grey, almost white, and various tones of dingy blah. Little Amber had fallen into the cellar below, causing a crisis but revealing an asset, something that the barony had need of.
“It used to be a guard tower,” a young earth pony with a stout build said to Sundance. “You see a lot of these old foundations in the environs around Canterlot. When war broke out, these towers were quite literally ripped off of their foundations and moved to more strategic locations. This one had the opening in the floor closed off—if you look closely, you can see that the stones in the middle are different, not as old, worn, and smooth as those surrounding them.”
“Stenmar, right? Curious name, Stenmar. So what’s to be done?” asked Sundance, who was only mildly distracted by the earth pony’s robust physique.
The earth pony grinned, revealing broad, square teeth. “We’re gonna knock out the stones in the middle, open her back up, construct a dome over the foundation, and then rebuild the lift system so goods can be moved up and down. We’ve almost got the flooding cleaned up already. All the stairs will be removed and solid, sturdy steel panel stairs are already being fabricated aboard the ship.”
“What about the flooding? Will it flood again?”
Stenmar’s smile vanished and Sundance felt that the world was somehow a lesser place for its loss.
“No, it shouldn’t, barring extraordinary circumstances. It flooded because it lacked a sheltering structure over the existing foundation. Once we get a dome over it, with proper doors and windows, that’ll keep the wet out. It’s a dry cellar, in what should be dry rock. With several thousand square feet of storage. They don’t build cellars like this anymore. Well, generally speaking. This was naturally formed, shaped, and had walls put in. Impressive, really.”
The conversation had to keep going; Sundance had ulterior motives in need of satisfaction. Stenmar’s voice was pleasingly deep, with a steady timbre, and a resonance that could only come from such a broad barrel. But what to say to keep the earth pony talking. There were quite a few eye-catching earth ponies about, but the desire to speak with them was hampered by suddenly becoming tongue-tied. With Stenmar, it was business talk, which was necessary, but also still talk.
Turning sideways, the stout earth pony revealed a stunning side profile and he gestured at his mark, a mason’s compass. “Foundations and under-structures are my passion. Sewers, old cellars, catacombs, crypts, pretty much anything with underground architecture. I joined the Gringineers so I could advance my education. Wasn’t able to afford university, even with my parent’s help. But now I have ways and means!”
“Our passions are important,” Sundance remarked.
“What’s your passion, Baron?”
The question caught Sundance completely off guard. He blinked once, twice, and decided not to say bureaucratic efforts, because that would be a real downer right about now, even if it were true. There was something deeply satisfying about paperwork done to a state of perfection. Drawing in a deep breath, he held it, did a little thinking, and then let it all out in a long, weary sigh.
“Good governance,” Sundance said at last. This could mean any number of things, including bureaucratic do-goodery.
“Governance is no different than building a structure. It’s all about the foundations. The underpinnings. What you build on is arguably more important than what you build. That foundation over there where the guard tower once stood? That’ll be there forever. What’s built on it might come and go; we’ve already seen an example of that. The tower is gone. But with a sturdy foundation, one that endures, new things can be built as the old gives way.”
“That’s… surprisingly meaningful, given my current circumstances.” Sundance allowed the words to echo in his head, and he gave them careful consideration. “Thank you, Stenmar.”
“Don’t mention it. I gotta get back to work. Nice talking to you, Baron.”
Sundance almost didn’t recognise his own orchard. From where he stood, he saw a paradise free and clear of briars and thorns—but the orchard was long, and there was plenty of it. Trees were getting pruned, new trees were planted, and the old irrigation ditches were now cleared of debris. Just a few days ago, this place was inhospitable, prickly, and clearing it seemed like an impossible task.
He was not alone on the rise, there was a camera set up here so that the before and after could be committed to film. A young pegasus mare was readying a smaller, lighter camera for a flyover shot, and as Sundance watched her work, he was reminded that the barony needed more pegasus ponies. It made him think about his own purpose as a pegasus. What did a pegasus do? What were pegasus ponies known for? Of the three tribes, what did pegasus ponies bring to the collective table? How did they contribute?
The old Hearth’s Warming tale had them running an extortion racket, offering ‘protection’ in return for food. Thinking about it made Sundance feel itchy beneath his skin, a place where he could do no scratching. His mother was a proper pegasus; a fierce guard that watched over her city, her community, offering fair protection to all, and equal opportunity ear-twisting for ne'er-do-wells. His mother was the sort of pegasus that gave credence to a lot of stereotypes, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing. He’d been raised on a steady diet of stereotypes, a rigid system of beliefs that did not hold up to scrutiny.
It was a matter of flawed foundations, perhaps.
His mother, for all of her good, for all of her sense of duty, for all of her greatness, she would have nothing good to say about Corduroy, and it was hard to reconcile his mother’s beliefs with his own newfound views. The world was the way it was and certain assumptions were ‘safe.’ She had told him that if one stuck with what one knew, one was far less likely to be hurt—so stereotypes were presented as a defense mechanism of sorts, a means of survival.
Diamond dogs were dangerous. Poachers. Slavers. Hulking brutes that could barely speak common Equestrian, if they could speak at all. Those few that lived in the city were, by and large, criminals. His mother could speak at length about it, and could tell any number of stories about arrests made. She could speak of violent murders committed without batting an eye—all evidence of the danger of diamond dogs.
Was Corduroy the exception?
She had trouble finding—and keeping—a job. The same opportunities offered to ponies were not offered to her. Corduroy was a dog in dire straits, the sort of situation that might lead to acts of desperation in those of lesser wills, weaker characters, those lacking ironbound conviction. How many dogs in the city might be model citizens if given a fair chance, an equal chance to succeed? Did circumstance and coincidence facilitate the behaviours that reinforced all the damaging stereotypes?
Were pegasus ponies all brutes?
What if he made a mistake? What if he allowed other creatures to live here, other diamond dogs, and they were nothing like Corduroy? How would he deal with crime? With growth, and there was growth, sooner or later problematic residents would be a thing. An issue. Sure, there were problematic ponies, but according to his mother, ponies didn’t operate secret criminal syndicate markets that sold pony flesh to hungry carnivores. It was no mere rumour, no urban myth, that particular bust that his mother had been a part of had rocked the city of Baltimare to its core.
Sundance began to wonder what might happen if he made a bad decision and somepony—someone—got hurt. What if he welcomed the wrong type? In whatever form the wrong type might take. These thoughts were, perhaps, a bit too big for his head, which left him feeling stupid, and small. It was difficult to reconcile his need to believe in the good in others and keeping his subjects safe. Certain assumptions clearly existed for the sake of safety, right?
Did circumstance and coincidence conspire against him, causing him to second-guess himself?
A distant ship grew in size on the horizon. Normally, an approaching ship was not a big deal, for the most part, but with the royal foals present, a general alarm had been sounded. The enormous ship overhead turned about and presented broadsides to the approaching vessel, which bothered Sundance a great deal, but he felt as though he had no right to complain.
He suspected that Rustic was coming to pick up Turmeric, who was off in the orchard and would need to be collected. Sundance watched the ship overhead, and reminded himself that a construction ship was still a military ship. At the moment, his barony was populated by a number of royals—or at least royal offspring—and he hadn’t even considered the fact that trouble might arrive to do them harm.
Trouble—if it came—would meet Olive.
And then trouble would be in trouble.
She was around here, somewhere, often invisible. At least, that was what he’d been told. Immortal Solars had powerful enchantments on their armor, allowing for invisibility, non-detection, total silence, a whole host of useful spells, all so they wouldn’t be so intrusive. Also, they had wings. Olive could be anywhere—or, conceivably, anypony. She could be behind him right now, watching him. Such paranoia was not unfounded when magic was involved.
Somepony shouted and when Sundance turned his head, he saw a struggle with the block and tackle used to lift stone blocks for the gatehouse. No sign of trouble, no danger, just struggle. The earth ponies laying in stones were doing it the hard way, the earth pony way, with sweat, determination, and ingenuity. While the first stones were secured into place, other stones were cut and chiseled into shape. Old stones with busted corners were made square again. While most ponies used tools, Rocky Ridge used her bare hooves, smashing and bashing stones into proper shape, and she delighted in being the center of attention.
The old mare was a sight to see.
“You look pensive.”
Sundance recognised Skyla’s voice coming from behind him, and he did not turn to look as she moved alongside him. Like him, she had moved from place to place to watch over everything, but unlike him, she offered magical assistance when needed. He wondered how Skyla knew that he looked pensive when she’d approached him from behind—a mystery that he feared would have no answers, save for the fact that alicorns were mysterious creatures.
“The ship bothers you, does it not?”
Though he wanted to say something, he did not.
“I felt the ripple of your emotions when it happened. You were… disturbed. For whatever it’s worth, it bothers me too, even though I understand the necessity of it. There are many who would do me harm, and my usual protectors are nowhere to be seen. I’ve had attempts on my life.”
Her words ruffled his feathers more than he would ever admit.
“Quiet’s father, Dim, he unsettles a lot of ponies. Scares them. Fitting, I suppose, for the Lord of Nightmares. Dim is quirky and he does his best to be scary. Even though it makes others uncomfortable, I’ve always felt safe. Now, he is far, far away, and I do not feel secure without his shadow cast upon me.”
He felt the young filly brush up against his side and when she did, he finally turned to look at her.
“That ship is a poor substitute for security. It is iron and steel, wood and glass, all unfeeling. It has no emotions. That ship, for all of its fearsomeness, has no love for me, or hatred for those who would do me harm. I think that is what bothers me, when it turns to face what might be an unknown threat… it is a hollow act, a gesture, part of some routine that just happens. With Dim, there is no routine that is followed. He just appears, but he follows no set pattern. His chaos drives my father nuts, but my father depends on Dim’s disharmonious motives. There is no place for procedure in terror, there is only suddenly relaxed bowels and lots of screaming.”
“Does this have something to do with me standing up on my rock?” he asked.
“Very much so,” she replied.
With this in mind, he tried to think of how this applied to him, and what could be learned here to keep his subjects safe. He thought of what she had said about the airship being an unfeeling hunk of metal. It was… a deterrent? The airship offered security, though perhaps not reassurance. Or maybe it did. It was difficult to do this much thinking while stuck on the ground, with no wind caressing his wings.
“If something were to attempt to harm me, you’d throw yourself between me and them, would you not?”
“Well, of course,” he responded without a single second’s hesitation.
“Therein lies the lesson.” Skyla’s cryptic words were accompanied by her adjusting her eyeglasses.
What was it, exactly, that he was supposed to learn?
“My sister is no great thinker. In fact, most ponies will tell you that Flurry is kind of dumb. And she is. And no, I’m not saying that because she’s my sister. I’m saying that because Flurry will charge into a formation of ice orcs without ever once thinking about what she is doing, or the consequences. Flurry will pick fights with mud monsters and even risk her Aunt Twilight’s wrath. If Flurry was smart… then Flurry would not be great. Flurry acts. Dim acts. Flurry does. Dim does. The world is a better place for the two of them being true to themselves. That ship up there”—here, she pointed after she extended her wing—“it offers up a display as a deterrent. But that is cold comfort, is it not?”
Something flickered to life in the back of Sundance’s mind, a vague concept that he could not give words to, an idea that he could barely conceive. A notion, perhaps, something that would blossom into something else, something more meaningful, more profound once he thought about it. He felt the light touch of feathers on his back, Skyla’s feathers, and she wore a curious expression on her wise, foalish face.
“How do you know all this stuff?” he asked.
She replied, “Alicorn instincts.”
“That doesn’t tell me much.”
“Sadly, it doesn’t tell me much either. Often, I do things or act on things without fully understanding why I do them. That bothers me. Lately, I’ve found that I’ve been second-guessing myself a lot more than usual, and I worry about what the sudden onset of alicorn adolescence will do to my alicorn instincts.”
“Why tell me this?”
“Because… I want you to know that you and I aren’t so different. At least, in meaningful ways that matter.”
“So these scars,” he began, but the rest of the words would not come.
“You wear them well.” Skyla’s smile was gentle and somehow wise beyond her years. “Flurry has some too. She’s still coming to terms with having them. You acted. Now you have scars. An unscarred protector doesn’t offer much in the way of reassurance, but that’s just my opinion. I was born to rule… and to send protectors off to protect. My scars will come in time, in the form of memories, the faces and voices of those I’ve sent off to die in my stead.”
Try as he might, Sundance was unable to come up with any sort of response. These were ideas, concepts, deep thoughts that he’d never considered. It pained him how shallow he was, more so because he once thought of himself as a rather deep individual. Turning away, he focused his eyes on the horizon, on the approaching airship.
“Again, your thoughts betray you—”
“Are you inside my head?” he demanded.
“I am an empath, like my mother. It’s not so much the reading of the mind, but being receptive to the feelings. And if those feelings are closely connected to specific thoughts, there are echoes, reverberations that reveal what can be construed as thoughts. As my dreaded alicorn adolescence approaches, my magic fluctuates, awakens, and is currently impossible for me to control.”
Though somewhat annoyed, he also felt bad for her, because that sounded as though it would make her teenage years rather difficult, if not impossible. Currents of irritation and sympathy swirled against one another, leaving him confused, unsettled, and questioning himself. Adolescent acne, pubescent pimples, those were bad enough on their own, but uncontrollable magic no doubt made everything worse.
“I must go,” Skyla announced. “I was on my way to check on Corbie. Now there’s a pony with unsettled thoughts. She’s always been Nuance’s ‘big’ sister. It defines her through and through. It is the core of her being, her identity. As Nuance grows up, as he comes into his own, he needs her less and less… and poor Corbie has no idea who or what she is beyond being Nuance’s big sister. You should talk to her, if you can.”
“What do I say?” asked Sundance.
“Just be her friend,” Skyla replied. “That’s all I can tell you.”
Stats
Page generated in 0.042 seconds
Total duration
1,093 users online
2,174,562 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
straits
9582257
Weird, now that I've fixed it, there's a red line beneath it.
Can Sundance apply to the Crown to have a guardpost built in his barony, or does he, as a baron, hold the responsibility of raising his own guard?
9582329
He is required to muster his own guard.
So many strapping young mares and stallions in the Gringineers to distract Sundance, I see.
I think that is probably an understatement.
I haven't been reading the stories that (I think) really feature Dim, but I find this sentence quite telling. I wouldn't be surprised if Dim finds regular slasher movies to be comedies. Eventually, I'll get around to reading them. But I try to avoid dark stuff when melancholy is settled in.
Alicorn adolescence sounds really un-fun.
You address a Baron as Lord “name of their barony”. Or Sir if you wish to be informal. Trust me on this, I have served a lot of wine to Peers of the Realm.
9582383
I know that, and you know that, but these characters, they speak on their own. They don't always know that.
9582386
I know, but I can’t help it. Every time someone gets a mode of address wrong, I get seriously twitchy. I misaddressed a Polish Count early in my career, it was mortifying.
9582433
Poor Sundance is so clueless that he doesn't even know that his seneschal is called his seneschal.
He just knows that she is important. No means to express it though.
Nice
Very nice chapter not sure Skyla realizes the world needs both type of people. Those that think about everything before they react and those that dive in. Not always easy to tell which is the proper response
Sundance is so thirsty for a big, solid mare to be his top.
Perching.
9582444
Are you talking about Corduroy? As the barony expands being its head nurse will become more and more a full time job. Ditto for the role of seneschal. I'm not sure doing both will be physically possible relatively soon.
Interior has no U, jsyk.
If you steal, assault without reason, do not do your share of work even when in good health Then you are for the road, and don't come back.