> House of the Rising Sunflower
>  by kudzuhaiku
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Looking back, upon the previous past few years of work, the sheer amount of effort to reach this point, it had all seemed quite impossible. Yet, somehow Sundance had endured, he had persisted in spite of the confounding enormity of it all. Every form, every paper, each one had been checked, double-checked, notated thoroughly, as well as notarised to verify accuracy and truthiness of the available documentation.

Try as he might, Sundance still couldn’t quite say why he had done all of this, what strange force compelled him to keep going, what peculiar mania had motivated him. It had started off with his cutie mark, a soggy grey rain cloud over a sunflower. This seemed simple enough, but Sundance hadn’t even seen a sunflower, having been raised on the bustling streets of Baltimare. But his cutie mark had appeared and with it, a pressing need to understand it.

A talk with his grandmother revealed that their family had once been sunflower farmers, and once upon a time, a long, long time ago, they had been landowners—lords and ladies—but they had fallen on hard times. Looking back into his family history, Sundance found quite a tale, and the further back he went, the more interesting it all was. During Equestria’s Civil War, his family had planted their banner with the Lulamoons and both families had suffered heavy losses together. After the war had ended, the decimated survivors had gone east, heading to Fillydelphia and Baltimare, hoping for better fortunes.

But going back even further, much had been revealed.

“Mister Sundance,” a bespectacled unicorn named Raven said while sticking her head out of a doorway, “Princess Celestia will see you now. Thank you for your patience while waiting.”





It almost felt as though Sundance was back in school once more, and his teacher was grading his homework. Princess Celestia had given up meeting with ponies in her throne room it seemed, and now met them in her office, a sunny, inviting place where every available inch of surface space was covered in papers. The big, white, gleaming alicorn sat on a cushion behind her desk, looking over the binder of papers that Sundance had given her.

Like monoliths rising up from the sea of papers, framed photographs could be seen on Princess Celestia’s desk, and Sundance knew just enough about her to recognise these faces, all of them. The Princess of the Sun’s face was unseen behind the papers, and Sundance could not determine her mood—thus, it was quite a surprise when she finally had something to say.

“Well,” she huffed, “all of this seems to be quite legit, Mister Sundance. What did you hope to gain for your efforts?”

Caught off guard, Sundance found himself back in school once more, having to explain his behaviour. He snapped into good posture, sat up straight, ears up, wings folded just so, and he cleared his throat so that he might communicate in his best possible voice.

“Nothing!” he squeaked, and mortified by the sound of his own voice, Sundance slumped over, all of his careful preparations having been for naught.

“When ponies go through the trouble of tracing their lineage all the way back to me, they usually want something, Mister Sundance. Most of them feel entitled to something, some gift, something that acknowledges their status. This is an expensive, time consuming process, and most ponies demand something in return for all of the money and effort spent in establishing these connections.”

“I just wanted to say hello to my great, great, great, great, great—”

The papers dropped, revealing Princess Celestia’s terrific deadpan expression.

“—grandmother. You’re right, I did put a lot of time and effort into this. I got my first full time job right out of secondary school to finance this. Almost all of my young adult life has been spent in pursuit of this, hoping to understand my cutie mark and what it meant. I’ve learned so much about myself, my family, our history, Equestria’s history, and to reward myself for all of my hard work, I thought I’d come and say hello.”

The princess made a strange sound deep within her throat, the sort of sound that a teacher makes when overcome with incredulous disbelief. Sundance squirmed in his seat, almost unable to bear the heavy gaze of the majestic alabaster behemoth behind the desk. Slouching down, he tried to look as meek as possible, fearing detention or worse, and he began to have second thoughts about all of this.

Princess Celestia leaned forwards over her desk, and Sundance feared that he might melt beneath her scrutinous gaze. She was terrifying, large, and he was terrified, small. A trickle of sweat ran down inside of his ear, but he knew better than to twitch an ear, which might be mistaken for flippancy. All Sundance could think about was how scary it would be to have this mare as his mother, and his own mother—a police mare on a rough beat—was pretty darn stern.

“Should I be going?” Sundance asked while pressing his front hooves together. “You must be quite busy… I should be going—”

“Don’t you move,” Princess Celestia commanded in the tone of stern teachers everywhere. “There is something I want from you… but first, we’re having tea together, Grandson.”

“Oh… oh… that’s very kind, and unexpected. Anything that humble little me could do for you, I will—”

“Oh, this isn’t a request, let me make that clear.” Princess Celestia smiled, which seemed to radiate its own strange heat, and her eyes burned like a furious dawn hoping to banish a quarrelsome night. She waved the binder full of papers, causing it to rustle, and her ears formed an imperious ‘V’ like an angry flock of truculent geese. “You’ve dared to raise your head and show yourself as capable. Now, you will be conscripted. I have need of you… and this is a family affair.”

Sundance gulped, fearful, and he didn’t dare contradict the princess, because that would be rude, and his mother would let him have it. He looked up at the princess, who now towered over him, and gave a brief bob of his head to acknowledge her. “I’d love to join you for tea, Grandmother.”





The swan-like princess was graceful, beautiful, and moved with a smooth fluidity that belied her vast size. Sundance found himself in a library, or perhaps it was Princess Celestia’s study. It was a vast space with a small amount of floor, crowded at the bottom, but stretched up vertically for quite some ways. Toys lay in a scattered-about mess on the  floor, as well as a wadded up blanket, all of which the princess stepped over as if they didn’t exist.

A tea trolley was already waiting in the corner and Sundance couldn’t help but think how close he had come to interrupting this poor mare’s teatime with his impressive act of genealogy. With her wing, Princess Celestia gestured at a table that was partially covered with a picture puzzle, a big one. While Sundance sat down, Princess Celestia began laying out tea in a dazzling display of dextrous magic, setting everything up in a small spot not covered by the picture puzzle.

“You must forgive me,” Princess Celestia said, her voice now soft and kind. “Daily, I am besieged with those claiming family ties. Most of them don’t even have the documentation or the paperwork, just an oral history. Raven was quite impressed by your effort and your attention to detail and she said that you might be useful, which is the only reason I agreed to speak with you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Sundance wondered how he might be useful and watched as his teacup was set down before him.

“I regret to inform you that there has been a death in your family, a pony that you have never met, nor heard of most likely, and nor would you want to. He was a contemptible, vile drunk who ran what was left of his demesne right into the ground. I found him loathsome, boorish, and crude. A few months ago, he fell down the stairs and broke his neck.”

Confused, Sundance’s head tilted off to one side in the manner of confused mammals everywhere. He blinked a few times, puzzled; then for lack of anything better to do, not wishing to look like an ignorant cretin in front of the princess, he stared down into his teacup, which the princess was adding cream and sugar to. The citrusy twang that rose up from his cup made him want to sneeze, but he didn’t dare and he fought back the dreadful urge.

“His peasants are loyal to the land… though not so much to him, and they have petitioned me for a steward… a custodian to watch over them and tend to their needs. These are exceptionally stubborn peasants, with no desire for change. They are happy with their lot in life, enjoy simple living, and crave an uncomplicated existence. In short, they are peasants through and through, and I can do nothing to change their mind.”

Princess Celestia sat down in an overstuffed chair covered in curious orange stains. She sighed, a weary sound, her feathers fluffed out, she lifted her teacup, and without further ado, she began slurping the hot tea. Looking down, Sundance could see that the white marble tiles were covered in crayon doodles; stick ponies, a rising sun, a castle, and what could only be described as a stick alicorn firing some kind of zigzaggy death-ray at some horrific tentacle monster.

For the very first time, it dawned on Sundance what Princess Celestia was planning, and he cast a furtive, frightened glance in her direction.

“Just to the north of the Everfree, nestled just west of the foothills of the Foal Mountains, due east from the Canterhorn, there is a tiny, neglected fiefdom. It is part of the Clock Face Fiefdoms, and it sits in the ‘three’ position. A long time ago, when Equestria was young, I gave that patch of land to one of my offspring. It rose and fell in prominence, sometimes it was governed well, and other times, not so much. During our Civil War, it became a battlefield when the Separatists made their big push for Canterlot, heading west from Fillydelphia. House Lulamoon took the field, standing beside their longtime allies, and with a great deal of blood and death, they bought Canterlot the time it needed to marshal its defenses. Equestria as we know it still exists because of House Lulamoon and House Sunfire. The region never fully recovered though, and neither did House Lulamoon.”

Sundance’s teacup trembled between his front hooves, and he wasn’t sure if he could sip from it without sloshing it or making a mess. Princess Celestia was looking at him now, looking into him perhaps, and no doubt reading him. There were a thousand things he wished to say, but none of them volunteered to go first.

“You cared enough about this genealogy project to finance it yourself. I believe you said you took on a job to pay for it. You had to commit yourself to a great deal of learning to jump through the bureaucracy required to accomplish all of this. Everything presented is a professionally prepared legal document admissible in any court and every single sheet of paper I saw was notarised. This had to be time consuming and expensive. Most of the time, when a pony goes through this much trouble, they do so to shore up their belief that they are entitled to something… but you… you just wanted to say hello.”

The princess drew in a deep breath.

“Ever since you made that appointment to see me months ago, I have wondered what you were up to, and so has Raven. Some poor pegasus from Baltimare makes a claim to the Royal Family, petitioning for recognition. Your mother is a police officer and your father is a line worker in a factory that makes light bulbs. Your parents are divorced, but amicable to one another, and you live well below the poverty line. The very fact that you spent so much money to accomplish this… and that you do not expect anything in return, I must confess… you have baffled me, Sundance.”

“Made my mother angry too… she thought the money might be better spent on education. Hooray, factory middle management or life as an office drone.” Sundance sighed and his hooves ceased to tremble quite so bad. “Ever since my mark showed up, I dunno… things have been weird. Like, I had to understand it. It just showed up one day. I’ve never even seen a sunflower and I had to look in a book about flowers to figure out what it was. My cutie mark just appears one day and I have no idea what it even is or why I have it, and I kind of became obsessed with learning all that I could. My friends thought I was nuts, my father said I need to get my head out of the clouds and figure out what to do with my life, and my grandmother was the only one who was really helpful, but she’s half senile.”

“I’m sorry… I imagine that things were rough.”

“They were!” Sundance blurted out and he brushed his blue mane from his eyes with one wing. “I’ve still only ever seen a sunflower in a book and I dream about them constantly. I don’t even know what to do now that I’ve finished this genealogy project. All of my hard work has brought me here, to having tea with you, and I never made any kind of plan for anything beyond this point.”

“If I might ask… you’re young, and your grandmother can’t be that old… has she taken ill?”

Sundance took a slurp of tea to calm his nerves and then he looked at Princess Celestia, surprised by her compassion. Her hardened, matronly demeanour was gone now, replaced by motherly concern. His muscles unkinked a little and he found that he could relax his guard.

With a nod, he began, “She worked in a hat factory. Mercury exposure. She did felt-curing work. The fumes got her. She was given an early retirement and now collects a pension.”

“I’m sorry.” Princess Celestia’s eyes—the colour of a glorious rosy dawn—glimmered with emotion and her long neck sagged. “So much has been done to protect labourers from occupational hazards, but I feel that more could still be done. It frustrates me that change is so slow. It is at moments like these that I gain a little more insight as to why some of my subjects choose to remain peasants who work the land.”

“And these peasants… they need a custodian?”

“Oh no,” Princess Celestia replied, shaking her head from side to side. “I’m no longer in need of a custodian or a steward, I’ve found something better.”

Sundance felt his stomach drop.

“They are going to be so happy to find that they have a new lord to look after them.”

Somehow, Sundance held on to his teacup with his hooves and he did his best to appear regal, though he was certain that he was doing a lousy job. This wasn’t what he had in mind, not at all, no, this wasn’t what he had come to Canterlot for. Yet, here he was, having tea with his distant relative after having done all of the prerequisite work that proved that he was at least somewhat adequate for the job.

“I’m not a noble—”

“No, you’re not, and that’s fine, just fine. You’re a hard worker with an eye for detail, a sense of organisation, commitment to a task, and you arrived here through your own efforts, seeking nothing in return. You’ve already shown yourself far more capable than the last lord of House Sunfire and I’m pretty certain that your cutie mark won’t let you say no, so I have you right where I want you.”

The sudden dryness in his mouth made Sundance gulp down more tea and unable to look Princess Celestia in the eye any longer, his gaze darted around the study, taking note of every messy detail. There were stuffed animals crammed between the books on the shelves. The artistic efforts of the very young could be seen on papers pinned to the shelves and the walls. Over the fireplace mantle, there was a foal’s painting of alicorns knew what. The picture could not be made out, but somepony had framed it nonetheless. Photographs of a grinning pegasus could be seen everywhere, except in some pictures the pegasus was an alicorn.

It dawned on Sundance that this was a private room… a room meant for family.

“I don’t know what I am doing—”

“Which is fine and you shouldn’t panic,” Princess Celestia replied while pouring herself more tea. “My advice is to dive into it and don’t hold back. Make friends. Ask for help. Seek advice. If necessary, go to Ponyville and make an appointment to speak with Princess Twilight Sparkle, who manages the day to day operations of the Clock Face Fiefdoms. I will see that an allowance is made available to you so that you can get established.”

“I just wanted to say hello to my great—”

“I am aware of my greatness,” Princess Celestia interjected while somehow keeping her face smirk-free.

“—grandmother. Honestly, I didn’t come here to get anything.”

“But you came, and something of value was given. Gifts are given, not earned. In this instance, I am both giving and receiving”

Sundance was about to say something in return, but there was a thump against the door and it opened. A little stark white pegasus came careening in, her wings flapping, and her arctic blue eyes were frantic. She was quick for being so small, and with a grunt, she launched herself at Princess Celestia like a teeny, tiny, fuzzy, feathery cannonball.

Just as she was doing this, a guard stuck her head in the door, looking apologetic, her eyes wide and sorry. Princess Celestia moved her teacup aside just in time and caught the flappy little filly. It was then that Sundance noticed the contrast, with the filly appearing blue-white and Princess Celestia was more of a pink-white.

“Leave us,” Princess Celestia commanded, and the guard vanished without a word. “Hailstone, did you come for tea?”

“Radiance is a poo-poo head!” the little filly blurted out and then she buried her face into Princess Celestia’s neck. “Big mean poo-poo head!” Now, her words were muffled and she tried to cover her head with her stubby wings.

“Yes…” The exasperated alicorn sighed out the word. “Radiance is a poo-poo head. Was he bossy?”

“Ayuh!”

“What’d he do?”

“He tattled on me!”

“Oh.” Sundance saw Princess Celestia’s eyes narrow and something like a knowing expression could be seen upon her face. “Hailstone, were you flying indoors again?”

“No.”

“No fibbing.”

“Nuh-nope.”

“You know what happens when little Hailstones make the Sun cross, don’t you?”

The filly had nothing to say now, but trembled while her wings fluttered.

“The angry Sun gets hot and little Hailstones melt—”

“I mighta kinda sorta knocked something over, but Radiance is still a tattletale and he’s not s’posed to tattle.”

Sundance wondered if the little tyke realised that she was tattling right now. Unable to hold it in, he laughed, and when he went to cover his mouth, he almost dropped his teacup. Snorting, he tried to recover, but more of the unbidden laughter escaped. Forced to put his cup down, he did so, and cringed a little bit when Princess Celestia’s gaze focused upon him. It was too much to bear and Sundance kept sniggering, kept snorting, and then the most amazing thing happened: Princess Celestia smiled—no, she beamed.

At that moment, Sundance found himself at ease with everything.

“Is Daddy gonna die?” Hailstone asked, her voice now solem and fearful.

“Goodness no…” Princess Celestia allowed the foal to settle into the crook of her foreleg and she looked down at her, still smiling, her face a beautiful expression of maternal love. “I would hope not. Hailstone, why would you ask such a morbid question?”

“He kept saying, ‘A father could just die!’ over and over.” The filly rolled over and allowed herself to be babied, all four of her little legs in a heap on her stomach.

At this moment, sitting in a chair covered with mysterious orange stains while holding one of her offspring, Princess Celestia was a truly magnificent, majestic creature and Sundance felt blessed to be in her presence during such an intimate, precious moment. But the moment was also strange, surreal, though it should not have been. It was difficult to see Princess Celestia—a timeless, immortal creature—doing something that felt so common, but was it really so strange? Sundance could trace his lineage back to the majestic white alicorn of the sun, and this was proof that she engaged in all aspects of day to day life. It was difficult to imagine her just being a pony, with a husband and a passel of foals, though he knew this to be the case.

“Right now, at this moment, you are coming to terms with the fact that I am a pony, just like you, are you not?”

Sundance found himself nodding, but he also said, “I doubt that you are anything like me, Princess Celestia. You have age and wisdom. The nation of Equestria owes its existence to you. You guided us through the terrible times with Mister Mariner and led all of us through the various crises. You are the Eternal Sun and me… I’m just a colt that just graduated secondary school and now has no idea what to do next in life, though it seems that you have a plan for me.”

“You could try telling me no.”

“I have no such desire. All of my work has lead me here, to this point, and it feels as though it would invalidate all of my effort and sacrifice if I turned away now. I gave up so much to accomplish this.” Looking back, Sundance realised just how much he had given up to be here. He had turned down dates, foregone school dances so he could work, and he had relinquished pretty much all of his social life. Was it worth it? There was no way to tell, not yet.

“Mama, I can’t tell if he’s yellow or orange. What crayon would he be?”

“Hailstone, darling, I would say that Sundance here is ochre. Can you say ‘ochre’ for me?”

“Ogre?”

“No, ochre.” Princess Celestia made an exaggerated example of pronouncing it.

“Ochre… ochre… ochre…” The filly mimicked her mother three times, and on the third time, she nodded.

“So what happens next?” Sundance asked while his eyes lingered on Hailstone, because she was adorable.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Princess Celestia replied. “You are going to spread your wings, and I am going to help you to fly. But to do this, you have to trust me, and I have to trust you, so I suppose we need to establish that we trust one another.”

Trust seemed impossible at this point—oh, Sundance trusted his princess, but not himself—and he didn’t understand why she was doing this. This whole meeting had been about trust, he realised, and thought about his earlier epiphany that this was a family room, meant for family members. There was also the fact that Princess Celestia was allowing him to see her not just as a princess, but as a parent, and as a pony.

Did he dare question the judgment of a being many thousands of years older than him?

Nope.

“No flying indoors. It’s a rule. Radiance likes this rule ‘cause he can’t fly ‘cause he’s an earth pony.”

“Hush, Hailstone… Mister Sundance is a rule-following pony. More so than you are, you adorable little scofflaw.”

Lower lip protruding, Hailstone went silent and still while glaring daggers up at her mother. Sundance found himself smiling at the sight of this, how a foal could be so brazen towards Princess Celestia. But to Hailstone, the Immortal Sun Princess was just another pony, a parent. Sundance began to understand the perspectives at work here, and why Hailstone would do what the average pony would find unthinkable, or maybe even blasphemous.

“You have begun to understand the lesson, Sundance. I can see it on your face. Having Hailstone show up was serendipitous and I could not have planned it better. More and more, I am seeing a pony who I can work with, and I like what I see.”

In response, Sundance chose to be blunt. “Are you inside my head?”

“Am I?” was Princess Celestia’s cryptic reply.

“For now, I am going to make the assumption that you are.”

“Good, I will continue to play with your assumptions.”

Frowning, Sundance couldn’t help but feel that he had walked into that one.

“I will give you the Barony of House Sunfire and you will take on the Sunfire name. The barony is a bit of a fixer-upper, but I am confident that you will do right. You will adopt the Sunfire standard and your life will be spent in service to the Sunfire banner. Your every waking moment will be spent in the pursuit of bettering your house and every breath you take will be done in the service of your peasants. Do well, do right, and I will restore the title ‘Guardian of Dawn’ for you. I want this region revived and the glory of this ancient house restored. Can you do this?”

“Well, I don’t know… but I am willing to try.”

“Good answer. The correct answer. Again, I am impressed.” The princess paused, squeezed the foal she cradled in her foreleg, and then she beamed once more, revealing her most impressive smile. “Come, Sundance. I am in the mood for an early lunch, and we have much to discuss. There will be paperwork served with lunch… but I am optimistic that House Sunfire will revive itself like a phoenix from the ashes.”

Sundance nodded, while reflecting upon how a trip to visit his grandmother had turned into so much more. What would his mother think? His father? His grandmother? The sheer enormity of his task settled upon him and he could feel the crushing weight of it. What was he doing? What was he getting into?

“Sundance Sunfire. The name suits you. Come, your Lordship, it is time for you to begin a great work and it is time for me to stuff my face. I’m starving!”
> Lunch
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Becoming a noble was hard work and Sundance was only just beginning to understand how his genealogy project had prepared him. It had been a crash course in navigating government bureaucracy, managing immense piles of paperwork that would make most mortals despair, and negotiation. Princess Celestia had written a decree acknowledging him as family, then an edict requesting that he was to be given peerage. This was followed by a dictum that had him formally recognised as the Baron of a barony, and then three recognised, established houses all published a mandate acknowledging him as a peer. This in turn was endorsed by the Lord Mayor, Prince Gosling, and then the final writ was signed by Princess Luna, because it had been Princess Celestia who had started the process, and she wasn’t allowed to finish it.

Sundance had three ponies whom believed in him, two of which he had never met. House Nicker and House Lulamoon, and Sundance hoped to thank them face to face. The third was by the most delightful pony known as Fancy Pants, whom Sundance was just beginning to get to know. Fancy Pants, of House de Culottes, had assisted Sundance every step of the way and had already offered so much advice.

The past week had been exhausting and Sundance was certain that he was fired from his medical courier job for not showing up at work. This didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would, because now he had a better job—maybe. Managing the application process was a real pain in the rear, and there were still a few final things to do before moving into his new home, which he had been told was in deplorable condition.

But none of that mattered right now.





Fancy Pants threw open the wide double doors and then stepped aside, allowing Sundance a full unobstructed view of a vast interiour. A rakish grin could be seen on the noble unicorn’s face, and a merry twinkle illuminated his eyes. Inside, an army could be seen, a frantic, frenetic mess of ponies running about, most of them quite young.

“I saw a need,” Fancy Pants began, raising his fine, cultured voice somewhat to be heard over the commotion indoors. “The nobles were needed once more. For too long we stagnated under the bureaucracy and many of the old feudalistic contracts expired. Individual fiefdoms fell into disrepair and ruin. For a time, many believed that the ancient treatise known as Equestrian Feudalism and the Covenant of the Three Tribes would pass into history as a relic of a bygone era. Now, there has been a revival… an awakening.”

Almost slack-jawed, Sundance gaped at the hubbub beyond the doors.

“The new generation of nobles… these fresh-faced, starry-eyed up-and-comers, they had no idea of what to do or how to do it. So I created this place… I financed it with my own fortune. It has everything a noble would ever need to rule. You can come here to talk with your peers, there is an extensive library of helpful literature that was graciously donated by Princess Twilight Sparkle, and you can find answers to any questions that you might have. I give you, Château Nouveau!”

Sundance allowed himself to be led inside so that the doors could be shut. Wide-eyed, overwhelmed, he had never seen anything quite like this. Earth ponies stomped about, running from place to place, pegasus ponies flitted about in the upper levels, and unicorns winked from place to place. A debate seemed to be taking place with the participants sitting in fine, comfortable chairs all gathered into a circle. Coffee and tea were whisked from place to place by harried servants.

Along the back wall, everything was dominated by one enormous feature that demanded attention.

“What is that?” Sundance asked while his head tilted off to one side.

“The leaderboard,” Fancy Pants replied. “All accomplishments are measured, recorded, and judged by elder, experienced nobles. Points are assigned to measure the state of your fiefdom. Only those who practice exceptional rule have a chance of appearing on the leaderboard, but this is what everypony strives for.”

“Who is Lady Pebble Pie?” Sundance squinted, his eyes weary from too much reading.

“The Dominator.” Fancy Pants cleared his throat and let out a polite cough. “She is competitive, that one. She’s a benevolent tyrant. Progressive, but also stern. You’ll meet her soon enough, I’m sure.”

“Why is Princess Twilight Sparkle in second place?”

“Oh, we don’t discuss that. Right then. Any other questions?”

“I’d really like to know.” Sundance hoped that his insistence wouldn’t be considered rude.

“Well, to hear Princess Twilight Sparkle tell it, Pebble’s demesne is very small and manageable, while Twilight’s demesne, Ponyville, is exceptionally large. Twilight claims that Pebble wins by percentages that Twilight can’t hope to match. It’s really very complicated, to hear Twilight talk about it. Twilight is forced to deal with issues and problems that do not exist for Pebble… that said, there are those who say that Twilight could be doing more to gain more points, given that she has more resources. Typically, this debate becomes quite heated and often turns quite unpleasant. ‘Tis better to not speak of it.”

A distracted unicorn went stumbling by with her face in a book and Sundance couldn’t help but think that she was rather cute in a bookish sort of way. He stared for a moment, for as long as he felt he could get away with it, and then returned his eyes to the leaderboard. There were lots of good reasons to come back to this place and Sundance could see himself spending some time here.

“I would imagine that a great many marriages might come from this place.”

With a snort, Sundance was snapped back to attention. “Say what?”

“Oh, nothing.” Fancy Pants’ mustache quivered as a charming smile spread over his muzzle.

Looking at the leaderboard gave Sundance aspirations, it gave him hope, and he couldn’t help but feel that turning kind, responsible governance into a competition was a good thing, so long as the right ponies benefited from it. This place, this Château Nouveau was like a petri dish in which new cultures of rule might be developed. Sundance wasn’t the brightest of ponies, but he could see how all of society might benefit.

“Come, Sundance. We must take copies of all of your papers and make a filing for the public record. Allow me to show you to where we keep records here. The filing system was invented by Princess Twilight Sparkle… it is quite intuitive and easy to manage.”

Casting one final glance at the leaderboard, Sundance allowed himself to be led along.





After what felt like years locked away in the paperwork dungeon, trying to understand Twilight’s so-called intuitive filing system, Sundance stepped out into the bright sunlight. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and allowed the full glory of the sun to shine down upon him. He was a free creature once more, with no paperwork left in his saddlebags. Savouring his triumph, he swayed from side to side, exhausted.

Some ponies fought monsters, battled great evils, but Sundance wasn’t one of those ponies, no. Sundance wouldn’t last long in a fight, or so he believed, but he could file paperwork. He was a tireless warrior against the paper menace, the dreadful lurking enemy that threatened to consume all of society. When the beast of parchment and ink finally turned upon them all, Sundance knew that he would be one of the chosen called upon to slay it.

“We’re not done,” Fancy Pants said with a chuckle, interrupting Sundance’s moment of recovery. “We must stick to the schedule. We must hurry, as we must be going. Hungry? We’re about to have lunch.”

A good shake was just what was needed, and not caring what others might think, Sundance gave himself into his desire with reckless abandon. He shook, he shimmied, and he even flapped his wings a few times, certain that there had to be cobwebs after the decades spent locked in the paperwork dungeon.

“Right! Good show! Make a few mares faint with a rakish display of plumage! I understand that they are all the rage these days. Alas, I lack such fashionable accessories.” Fancy Pants’ enthusiasm could not be contained and Sundance found himself smiling.

Lunch sounded good.





The cafe was crowded with ponies, most of them guards. A protective perimeter was established, and new customers were turned away from the door. Sundance felt a little awkward about this huge fuss, but this was his life now, and he faced it with grim acceptance. While he wasn’t all that important in the larger scheme of things, Prince Blueblood was, and the regal unicorn was reading a portfolio while sipping at a tiny cup of espresso.

Fancy Pants and Fleur Dis Lee sat on one side of the table, and Raven on the other beside Prince Blueblood. A table meant for four felt crowded with five, and with the guard gathered around, Sundance felt the slightest bit claustrophobic. There was also the fact that Sundance felt horribly out of place, the menu was written in a language he couldn’t read, and there were no prices written for anything.

Fancy Pants leaned over and gave a gentle nudge to the mare beside him. “I say, Fleur, Canterlot seems a little too quiet, wouldn’t you agree?”

The demure, leggy mare nodded, but it seemed as though she had nothing to say.

“We haven’t had a good attack in a while. As dreadful as those are, they do so get the blood pumping, don’t they? I must say, I’ve grown to welcome them as a means to break up the boredom. The dreadful unseen menace remains unseen. It’s not sporting to leave a pony in want and waiting.”

“You’re crazy,” Raven deadpanned and she offered Fancy Pants a dismissive wave of her hoof.

“The craven scoundrels that live below us in the sewers have done us a favour. They’ve brought out the best in us. We are now of one mind, united against a common foe, and all of us labour for a greater cause. And when those little rapscallions dare to show their hideous, ratty little faces, we give them a right good thrashing and a good what for!”

“Dear, you’re causing a scene,” Fleur said while she patted Fancy Pants on his foreleg.

“I’m itching for another kerfuffle.” Fancy Pants slumped as much as his fine breeding and good manners would allow, and his ears settled into a splayed out position that suggested boredom. “The tea tastes so much sweeter after a brush with death.”

“Fancy, dear, you’ve become positively primeval.”

“Perhaps I have, Fleur, perhaps I have.”

“Sundance.” Prince Blueblood lowered his portfolio, cleared his throat, and focused his intense, piercing gaze upon the young pegasus he addressed. “I’ll be blunt, because that is what I do. You have an uphill battle ahead of you. Your barony lacks any sort of modernisation. There is no indoor plumbing, no running water, no electricity, there is nothing. It is mired deep in debt, because the previous Lord Sunfire kept taking out loans with his land as collateral. Princess Celestia is working to secure some mercy for the debts, but she cannot just have them erased—doing so would breed accusations of tyranny. I myself have begun negotiating with some of the more… unscrupulous bankers that the previous Lord Sunfire struck deals with. There is a huge mess.”

In silence, Sundance nodded and listened. Listening was good and it endeared him to others. Since his arrival in Canterlot, he had done a lot of listening, some of which was about things that were deeply unpleasant, much like everything that Prince Blueblood had to say.

“This debt is not insurmountable,” Raven said in cold, clipped tones. “You might end up an old pony on your deathbed, but you can pay this off and leave a debt-free barony for your heir.”

Sundance’s ears rose, fell, rose, fell, and rose again. He had to produce an heir. One heir and at least one spare, as it had been suggested. On top of whittling away at a mountain of debt, running a barony, restoring the family name, he had to find a mare open to his advances, a mare that could somehow look past his extreme poverty, and would be willing to live in what Sundance could only imagine was some dreadful backwater county with no modern amenities.

“Your barony is dying,” Prince Blueblood continued, his eyes narrowed. “The youngest pony in your demesne is in their forties, or so it is estimated. Birth records were not well kept, and like everything else, were neglected. The oldest might well be approaching their century mark. I’ve already taken the liberty to see what I can do to help you gain a few new faces, and there are others working hard on this dire problem. Without peasants, without labourers, you have nothing. All of your peasants are too old to make more peasants.”

So, Sundance realised, he needed to find some incentive to make ponies stay.

“Blueblood… I think that’s enough.” Raven prodded the stallion beside her with her hoof, and then followed it up with a hard jab to the ribs. “This is an awful lot to take in, all this bad news all at once. Let’s have lunch first, and then we’ll pick up where we’ve left off.”

“Very well.” Prince Blueblood bowed his head, acquiescing to the flinty mare beside him with a smirk. “This place has the most remarkable Fancy onion soup…”
> -- --- --
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



OFFICER MOM -(STOP)- I WILL NOT BE COMING HOME -(STOP)- I MET MY GRANDMOTHER -(STOP)- OUR GRANDMOTHER -(STOP)- SHE CONSCRIPTED ME -(STOP)- I WAS GIVEN A CHANCE TO DO SOMETHING LIFE CHANGING -(STOP)- IT WILL PROBABLY BE THE DEATH OF ME -(STOP)- I WILL KEEP IN TOUCH WHEN I AM ABLE -(STOP)- SINCE I WILL NOT BE COMING HOME I HAD BEST COME CLEAN NOW -(STOP)- IF YOU LOOK IN THE TRUNK AT THE FOOT OF MY BED YOU WILL FIND SOME CONFUSING PORN -(STOP)- I AM SORRY -(STOP)- I NEVER GOT AROUND TO FIGURING MYSELF OUT -(STOP)- NOW IT MIGHT BE TOO LATE -(STOP)- COMBO LOCK 30 36 09 -(STOP)- IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND THERE ARE A FEW THINGS I NEED SHIPPED TO ME -(STOP)- NO ADDRESS AT THE MOMENT -(STOP)- WILL SEND INSTRUCTIONS LATER -(STOP)- I MEANT TO TELL YOU BUT I NEVER FOUND THE TIME -(STOP)- I AM SORRY


> Flight of fancy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Canterlot! The impossible city built atop the Canterhorn, a city made possible by the extensive use of magic. The city where the Goddess Sisters held residence, Celestia and Luna, the Royal Pony Sisters. A city of wealth, of culture, a place where it seemed that anything was possible, the capital city of Equestria. Narrow streets offered access to shops beyond the imagination, stately tower homes, and all of the various fortresses of governance. In all the world, it was said, no other city was quite like it, a great glittering jewel somehow affixed atop a mountain, a precarious, yet enduring existence.

It was unlike anything Sundance had ever experienced; to live in a city and to look down upon the clouds below in contempt. Over one mile straight up from Ponyville down below, with many parts of the Canterhorn nothing but a sheer, smooth drop. There were peculiar updrafts here, both atmospheric and magical. Though Sundance had never experienced magical updrafts while living in the city of Baltimare, he was aware of them now, he could feel the tingle in his wings and the minute vibrations in his delicate primaries. This had caused him some sense of awakening, restoring his long-slumbering connection to both land and sky. Why, it could almost be said that he was more of a pegasus now than he had ever been during the entirety of his short life.

Canterlot was so lofty that water boiled at an even two-hundred degrees.

Drifting, circling, his wings spread wide, Sundance considered going home, which waited for him down below. He was allowed to leave at any time he felt ready, and while he wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready, the sooner he got started, the better off things would be. He could fly and return to Canterlot at any time. A courier had been sent ahead, days ago, informing the tenants of his land of his impending arrival. Fancy Pants had repeated many times that he was ready, but Sundance had his doubts. Still, he was no shirker of duty though, and there was the matter of the strange, irresistible compulsion that lurked in the back of his mind, a compulsion that he believed came from his cutie mark. For the past few nights, his dreams of sunflowers had been overwhelming, vast, endless fields of them, a promise of what might be.

Angling his wings so that they were swept back behind him, Sundance dove, ready to make the plunge.





The clouds were so thick he found himself punching them, just for fun, and Sundance dropped due east with the distant mountains ahead of him and the Everfree to his right. His legs were tucked tight against his belly and he frolicked in the air, still very much a colt in mind, if not in body. Sundance believed himself to be a good flier, having grown up in the bustling inner-city, having dealt with a dizzying number of obstacle courses on a daily basis. Flying slalom between the smokestacks of the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen was a favourite pastime, and the eye-watering stench that came out of the vents was all part of the challenge. Many a pegasus had crashed into the smokestacks, blinded by the nostril-raping aroma wafting from the industrial bakery.

The last layer of clouds was smashed through, leaving streaming ribbons of cloudlets trailing behind Sundance as he plummeted towards the ground. He had to readjust his course a bit, knowing that the main keep of his barony was a little further east and not straight down at the base of the Canterhorn. His keep was nestled in the foothills of the Foal Mountains, giving him access to lush valleys watered by snowmelt, but not much flat land around the immediate vicinity of his new home.

Below him was the furthest reaches of his land, which ended at the base of the Canterhorn in a vaguely pie shaped section. He saw meadows, woods, creeks and waterways of all kinds. The outer edges of the Everfree gnawed upon his land, no doubt devouring it a little at a time, the slow progress of nature that went unnoticed by mortal eyes. His sharp eyes spotted train tracks winding through the woods, skirting the edges of the Everfree, and alongside the track a dirt road could be seen.

Sundance followed these, remembering that there was a railroad depot down in the lowlands. He skimmed the treetops, noting the difference of the healthy, normal forest, and the twisted, distorted trees of the Everfree. Strange magic tugged on his wings, beckoning him, luring him closer to the dark majesty of the Everfree, but he resisted the pull. The road meandered for some reason, twisting and curving around trees, but the tracks ran straight, heading east towards Baltimare and Fillydelphia.

The railroad depot would be the key to his success and he would need to move goods down from the foothills. What goods? He had no idea, having never farmed a day in his life. But to do this, he would need wagons and stout earth ponies. Was that tribalist thinking? His wings went still and for a time, he skimmed on faint currents, gliding with no effort, wondering if it was tribalist to expect earth ponies to pull wagons to the train depot. This was a dreadful dilemma, as the last thing that Sundance wanted was to be accused of tribalism. It was a phobia that had lingered all through foalhood and persisted even now that he was a young adult.

His mother would kill him until he was dead thrice over if he did something so uncouth, and his father, an earth pony, would be disappointed with him. But… earth ponies were stocky, stout, and capable of pulling heavy loads. Sundance knew that this was something he would never be truly comfortable with, and maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

Far ahead, Sundance’s keen vision caught sight of something grey, something like weatherbeaten wood, and with a flap of his wings, he zoomed off so that he might have a better look at what he thought was the train depot.





This wasn’t a train depot. No, this was barely even a stop. There was one splintery bench beneath a lean-to shelter that appeared as though it might collapse at any minute. A tall pole—the grey wood he had seen some distance away—had a plank that could be raised to signal the train to stop. The plank was more a suggestion of red, faded, peeling, and rotting. There wasn’t even a raised platform, much less a lift or a crane to assist in getting goods onto the train.

The sight of it was crushing, because this was his train depot. He owned it. Each bit of rotted wood, each splinter, each rusty nail, the flaking red paint, all of this was his. Sighing, he stood on the dirt road that lead to the train stop and tried to dismiss his doubts. This wasn’t the end of the world, even if it was disheartening to a degree that he was unfamiliar with. Never in his life had he ever felt the way that he felt right now.

Deep ruts could be seen in the road, old ones left rounded by the weather. This road hadn’t seen traffic for quite some time, Sundance guessed, because grass was growing, sprouting up from the soft-packed dirt. Frustrated, he kicked at a tuft and thought about swearing. It would accomplish nothing, of course, but it might make him feel better and Officer Mom wasn’t here to give his ear a yank.

With a dejected sigh, Sundance spread his wings and took to the sky.





The flat lands gave way to boulder-strewn meadows with rising swells and gentle slopes. It might have almost been marshy, with the sheer number of creeks and streams, but the water flowed swift, clearly in a hurry to leave this place. This could be farmland—well irrigated farmland even—but it would be a monumental task to clear away the thousands of rocks strewn about. Stubby trees and thorny thickets dotted the land below, and some of the scattered rocks almost appeared to be old crumbled ruins that had spilled over.

Rocks could be valuable, Sundance knew this, but he had no idea what sort of rocks these might be. They were kind of white, some of them, while others were a bit grey, and some appeared to be speckled. He had a lot of rocks, an abundance of them, he was rich with rocks. The road was a squiggle that wound between the bounty of rocks and the many flowing streams of water. It would be an absolute nightmare to haul a loaded-down wagon through this place, with all of the turns and twists.





What dreadful place the road had lead him. These weren’t foothills, no, these had to be something else. Crags? When Sundance heard the word ‘foothills’ he imagined gentle, rolling hills, beautiful and pastoral. This place… this place… was abominable. The reek of sulphur filled the air and vents hidden deep in the bottom of vast, craggy clefts spewed yellow mist into the air, redolent with the foul miasma of rotten eggs. Had he inherited the gateway to the underworld? To Tartarus?

It was as if some titanic being had shattered the land and left it in ruin.

But there was green here, so much green, and patches of the blackest black soil dotted the land like spilled ink pooled into puddles. In the distance, a crooked, leaning tower rose from a spur of rock, a tower that had seen better days. Woodsmoke rose from buildings not yet seen. Beneath the tower, farms could be seen, farms on an almost vertical slope, terraced into the very rock itself.

Eyes watering, Sundance blinked a few times with the hopes of clearing his vision. He gained a little altitude and more of his holdings became visible beneath him, spreading out like a vast tapistry. The tower was built at the very top of the spur of rock, which overlooked a deep ravine, the floor of which was the greenest thing that Sundance had ever seen. Each side was terraced—a staircase for titans—and Sundance was just able to make out a few small buildings that dotted the landscape. Heart racing, he surveyed his barony while being assaulted by the very stench of it.

As he drew closer, the sound of a tolling bell could be heard, the echoes of which pealed though the crags and cracks. An enormous waterfall became visible in the distance, with the bottom obscured by mist. Below, a small herd of ponies were gathering, but moving with no great hurry. Sundance had twenty three residents in his barony; twenty two earth ponies and one unicorn, with the unicorn being his retainer, a position of some importance, according to Fancy Pants.

It was time to introduce himself to the ponies of his demesne.
> 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!”
> Perverted peasant pony porn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sunflowers were not at all what Sundance expected, being no more than tiny, tender sprouts poking up out of the rich black soil. With his head down low, he rubbed his fuzzy chin against the stubby sprout and felt an odd sense of longing, but also a peculiar protectiveness. Could a pegasus be a farmer? Why not? Somebody had to water the plants and guard them from storms.

Moist black dirt squished into the crevices of his frogs and he was careful not to step on his precious sunflowers, which had been planted in neat little rows. Wickering with happiness, Sundance ignored the fact that he was being stared at and focused upon the profound sense of joy that he was experiencing. Lifting his head high, Sundance struck his best majestic pose and allowed the wind to tug at his ears.

“Cucumber! Cucumber!” A panting elderly mare came running up and she skidded to a halt on the wet grass.

“What is it, Sauerkraut?”

“It’s Lamp Black!”

“Aye, what’s he done now?” The old unicorn’s eyes rolled in anticipation of whatever it was the mare had to say.

The old mare, still panting, huffed out her reply, “He took his paints and painted a picture!”

“That don’t sound so bad… we could use a bit of refinement, so I say.”

“But it’s of Privy Pit’s backside! You can see her stink-wrinkle! It’s lewd!” The old mare sucked in a deep breath, her bright eyes bulging, and her head bobbed up and down. “Lamp Black and Hoe Hum keep staring at it and saying lewd things!”

“Aye, that’s terrible.” Cucumber nodded, sighed, and followed up with, “I should go have a look at that—”

“No! Don’t look! Avert your eyes! It must be scrubbed away! Do not look directly at the stench trench!”

“Oh, the stuff I have to deal with every day,” Cucumber sighed and he sounded oh-so-very tired.

“Milord, might you ban the lewd?” Sauerkraut asked, point blank.

With a turn of his head, Sundance faced the wrinkled mare and studied her. In the bright glare of the sun, he could see little more than grey on grey, but her eyes were kind, wise, and clear for her advanced age. She was imploring him with her eyes and the way her ears quivered was endearing. Something about her reminded him of his grandmother, but this mare was far, far older.

“I’ll not be banning anything until I have a better understanding of this place and how it works. If it bothers you, my best advice would be not to look at it.”

“But, Milord—”

“Sauerkraut, go bake a pie.” Cucumber cleared his throat and then waited for the mare’s reply.

“Aye, I can do that! That’s wholesome!” Then, without further ado, the mare took off, almost pronking, her knees popping with each jaunty step. “Must be on the lookout for lewd… lewd lurks everywhere! Beware the lewd!”

There was something almost foalish about the departing mare, and Sundance found himself smiling. He decided on the spot that he liked her, because the world needed more happy-go-lucky ponies. Looking about, he saw a number of faces studying him, all of them quite puzzled, no doubt judging him and his dealings with the nice old mare. Hopefully they saw his response as kind and fair.

“Sauerkraut Pie is a good mare and she’s our best cook. She keeps all of us fed, but she has a fear of the lewd, she does. I’ve been trying to get her beneath me for years… decades—”

“Cucumber… I… can’t even…”

“What? She wasn’t always this old, Milord. Why, at one point, my interest in her might’ve been seen as cradle robbing. I can remember her being born, though I can’t say when. After the war, so it was. She grew up into a fine thing, so she did. Sadly, all I’ve been able to get from her is extra slices of pie and not much else.”

“She’s never married or had foals?” Sundance asked, intrigued far too much for his own good.

“No, Milord. The previous Milord even tried to lure her in, but even he wasn’t cruel enough to do the deed. She’s just so innocent and foalish. He valued that, so he did, and so do the rest of us. When things get bleak, and things are often bleak, she’s always there to lift our spirits. She might just be the best of us. A real ray of sunshine, that one, so she is.”

“I’d like to keep having a look around, Cucumber.”

“Aye, right Milord. Right this way and keep an eye out for the lewd…”





The stone cottage was more roof than cottage, with only but a low wall made from rocks that was shorter than Sundance was tall. There were no windows, but the door had two sections that could be opened independently. The sod roof was a green, vibrant, living thing, and up near the peak there was a goat nibbling on some tall tender shoots that had sprouted. Although Cucumber had claimed that this cottage was falling into ruin, the door was in far better condition than the one on the tower, though there could be no doubt that the rusty iron hinges were in dire need of oiling.

Sundance tried to push the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried again, throwing a little extra oomph into it, but the door remained firm. Then, feeling foolish, he pulled on the door and with a creak, it swung outwards. A musty, earthy smell struck him, but it wasn’t a bad smell, just not one he was used to. It was a little like walking through the farmer’s market on a warm day, but far stronger, more intense. Ducking his head down so he wouldn’t bonk it on the doorway, Sundance stepped inside, unsure of what he would find inside, but hopeful for the possibilities.





“Don’t mind the smell, Milord,” Cucumber said as he followed Sundance inside. “Once a fire is allowed to burn for a while, this place will be as dry as week old bread, so it will.”

The old retainer’s horn lit up and Sundance’s breath was taken away. Above him was a myriad of roots—an eldritch snarl of knobby, twisty, gnarled roots that clung to massive rough-hewn wooden rafters. Everything above him appeared to be alive and the rafters showed no sign of rot. In fact, upon closer inspection, some of them appeared to have grown together in places, which was baffling.

“I done reckon it has something to do with earth pony magic,” Cucumber remarked, his voice quiet and solemn. “Like I said, these ponies have a powerful connection to the land, which loves them and cherishes them in return, at least, I think it does. I’ve heard tales about strange things that happen when an earth pony lives on a patch of land long enough, and then there’s all that I’ve seen in my long life. Most might dismiss what I have to say as nonsense, but I’ve watched these earth ponies go from cradle to the grave my whole life.”

There was a rounded stone basin in the middle of the room, charred black with the remains of many fires. Above it was a small opening in the roof, which was almost overgrown and needed a trim. In the back there was a small loft of sorts, a curved wooden shelf that Sundance guessed was for sleeping. The floor was dirt and pebbles, hard packed. Nothing else of interest could be seen.

It was large, larger than both his bedroom and the living room in his mother’s apartment. Sundance could see how this could be a comfortable space, with a family gathered around the fire in the middle. This of course, called attention to the fact that he had no family of his own, but that was a real can of worms waiting to happen, due to the fact that there was some real confusion about what he wanted.

Now wasn’t the time to think about it.

“I’ll have this place aired out, cleaned up, and I’ll get a fire lit. Watch out for spiders, they’re bitey, so they are, and there might be other creepy crawlies up in the roots above. I’ll bomb this place with bug dust and keep the fire smokey for a while. Come away, Milord, the damp is starting to affect my cough.”

“Right. Where to next?”





The cave walls glistened with what appeared to be a thousand tiny diamonds, and when the condensation built up enough mass, the sparkling jewels rolled down the walls, which were somewhat yellowed with sulphur. Light was provided by simple torches dipped in sticky black tar. Water dripped from the ceiling into pools of water, some of which were boiling, while others merely steamed.

This was the bathhouse and the kitchen, with the boiling pools used to cook stuff and the hot pools used for bathing. A sulphurous musk permeated everything and the stench was strongest here, in this place. Along the far wall was a collection of crockeries, stone bowls, stone pots, clay pots, and even a few pieces of cast iron. Cooking utensils, most of which were carved wood but a few were made of metal, hung from a crude but solid rack mounted to the wall.

If there was something cooking, Sundance couldn’t smell anything.

“Cooked ponies make the finest, most delicious broth,” Cucumber deadpanned.

“Say what?” Sundance blinked, alarmed, and it took him several long seconds before he realised that his retainer had a black sense of humour. The warm sense of affection gushing up from within him caused him to smile, even as the Tartarus-born stench made his eyes water.

“The dining hall is the long building we passed outside. It has a wooden table and even a wooden floor, so it does, and Princess Celestia herself has eaten in there, so she has. That was a bloody long time ago, so it was, and not all of the dead had been buried yet. Just after the war, ya see. It was that long ago.” The old unicorn sighed, shook his head, and blinked his rheumy, bloodshot eyes a few times. “The previous Milord, I had to lug his food up to his tower. I suppose that you’ll be eating with us?”

“I would like that, yes.”

“Everypony’ll think it’s a holiday, so they will. Very good, Milord.”





Having lived in the city for the entirety of his life, Sundance had never seen a plough and seeing one now left him giddy. Farming! Tilling soil! Up to this point, vegetables had always been something that came in a carton, or a bin, or frozen, or tinned, with tinned vegetables being his least favourite food. Like so many other Equestrians, he hadn’t ever given much thought where his food had come from, it was just something that was sold at the farmer’s market or the grocery store. But to see it as it came to life from the land, it was a new and novel experience, a life changing event for Sundance.

The stallion pulling the plough was singing in a deep baritone that resonated through the general area. He did so without effort, pulling the heavy iron plough with such ease that he wasn’t at all breathless or unable to sing. If anything, singing seemed to aid his work, allowing him to breathe better. Behind him, the land parted in moist, fertile rows that glistened black.

A much smaller mare walked in front of the massive stallion, her eyes on the ground and her ruddy reddish tail flicking around behind her. She was plain, there was nothing remarkable about her visually, but she had aged well. When she lifted her head, Sundance saw that there was, in fact, something distinct about her that he had failed to notice before, and that was the fact that her eyes pointed in different directions.

“Milord, that’s Plowshare and Potato,” Cucumber began. “Plowshare is one of our strongest and Potato, she’s one of our most valuable. She’s our watcher.”

“Cucumber, are you having a go at me again?”

“No Milord, I’m not.” The old unicorn cleared his throat and his hooves shuffled about in the soft-tilled earth. “Right now, she’s keeping an eye out for rocks that might damage the plough. Potato has her Potato Sense and that mare sees all. She knows when danger is coming, she’s always the first to spot trouble, and she was the one that alerted me to yer arrival. A long time ago, another Milord came and tried to buy Potato… the previous Milord told him to fronk off.”

“I see.”

“No, Milord, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. She sees, and no doubt better than you do.”

“So, Sauerkraut protects us from the lewds and Potato protects us from other forms of danger. Got it.”

Potato’s eyes narrowed and her ears pivoted about while her head turned north-by-northwest. Several goats also stopped and each of them also turned their heads in the direction that Potato’s nose was facing. The mare stomped her left hind hoof, flicked her tail right, and then made a bleating sound that sent the goats running towards the barn.

“Griffon,” Potato announced as the goats all fled. “Goats don’t like griffon. Nope. Goats like Potato. Griffon good, but goats not know. Goats fear griffon.”

“It seems we have a visitor,” Cucumber announced as he squinted skywards. “Griffon incoming.”
> Friends of a feather
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not one goat could be seen and many of the chickens had vanished as well. The cows herded together in a tight bunch and kept their eyes skyward while chewing their cud. Some of the ponies had split as well and the sound of slamming doors could be heard. While chaos rippled all around him, Sundance wondered why he had a griffon visitor. Coincidence? He had just arrived. Was he being watched? That seemed likely.

“Cucumber, does this griffon have a name?” Sundance asked his retainer, whom stood beside him.

“Milady.”

Sundance was forced to bite his lip in frustration and one ear trembled. After taking a deep breath he asked, “Is there another name she is known by?”

“Dam, Sire.”

“Damn what?” With a turn of his head, Sundance cast his most commanding glance at the elderly unicorn beside him. “Surely she has a name, Cucumber.”

“Baroness, Miliege.”

“Cucumber, are you having another go at me?”

“Why, no, Sire, I would never…”

Nearby, an unshorn sheep stood stock still, attempting to do its best boulder impression, and doing an astounding job. Sundance stood drawing in deep breaths, his nostrils flaring, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards while he made snorgling sounds in the back of his throat, the sound of repressed laughter. His stomach rumbled, informing him that he hadn’t eaten in quite some time, and he began to wonder what passed for tea around here.

His mother was a stickler for tea, insisting that life without tea was a turn to hooliganism.

The griffon was little more than a speck in the sky and still quite some distance away. Sundance raised his wing and held it over his eyes for a better look, but still couldn’t see much. Around him, work continued, save for the ponies who had retreated into their quaint little cottages, and Sundance wondered how often this rather remote place had visitors.

Eyes skyward, Sundance prepared himself for a guest.





The griffon, or in this case, the griffoness, was of surprising size. Oh, she wasn’t a giant of her species—not at all, Sundance had in fact seen bigger—but the griffoness was… fluffy. Well padded. She was on the larger side and this left Sundance a little confused because he had never seen a portly, overweight griffon. Under most circumstances, these creatures were quite active and were known for their athleticism, so this was a shock.

In her claws, she carried an enormous basket which she lugged with ease and she seemed to do more gliding than flying. Sundance envied her wings, which had more than twice his own wingspan. Griffons were just graced with bigger, more powerful appendages, and it just wasn’t fair. She was coming in soft and slow, in no big hurry.

About a yard or so above the ground, she dropped the basket into a soft patch of grass and then braced her legs for a landing. Sundance saw that she was surprisingly nimble for her size and her claws allowed her to get a good grip on the ground. She flapped a few times, folded in her wings, took a deep breath, and then her tail sprung up into an exclamation point of blissful happiness.

“Hi!” she said, offering up an exuberant, husky greeting. “I’m Silver Lining, of Lulamoon Hollow, and I was sent on behalf of the Lord of Lulamoon Hollow to say ‘hello,’ so, hello!”

“Milady, it is always a pleasure to meet you,” Cucumber replied while he bowed his head in reverence and gave Sundance a feeble, ineffectual kick.

Bowing his own head, Sundance remembered his manners. “Yes… yes… it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sundance.”

“Earlier today there was a bit of dragon mail letting us know of your imminent arrival and Sumac was busy doing his job and Pebble doesn’t fly so I flew over with a welcome basket filled with a few nice things to help you adjust. I thought it might be a bit of a shock to come out of the city and find yourself… well, here, in this place, which is really very lovely, but, um, well, you know… um…”

“Yes, I understand, and it was very kind of you to think of me—”

“Oh you’re so nice,” Silver Lining blurted out while her talons flexed and her claws dug into the soft ground. “The last baron, he wasn’t so nice, and that’s one of the things I was sent to do today, was make formal requests of you, as I am the wife of Lord Sumac and his formal emissary and diplomat. He stays busy.”

“What does Lord Sumac do?” Sundance asked and he found that he was quite charmed by this friendly, gracious griffoness. Most griffons he knew were of the grouchy, grumpy griffon variety, and this was a pleasant change of pace.

“Oh, he’s an undertaker and sometimes he’s a coroner due to his magical ability, but he’s not a medical doctor, and really, it is all very complicated.” The griffoness inhaled, fluffing out, and then, with a huff, she sat down in the grass and made herself comfortable, with her tail coming to rest in a patch of dandelions.

Beside Sundance, Cucumber grunted, and then took a few steps back.

“And Lady Pebble is known as the Dominator—”

“Yes she is! Yes she is!” Silver Lining’s whole body tensed, which caused a lot of jiggling and rippling through her features. “She can’t wait to meet you, but there is a lot of distance between our homes. It’s no big deal for you and I, because we have wings, and we can fly a few hundred miles in no time at all, but Pebble is an earth pony and like Sumac, she stays very busy.”

“Milord, I’ll be looking after the others and asking if my magic is needed,” Cucumber said, dismissing himself. “If ya need anything, give a whistle. My ears are still good.”

“Thank you, Cucumber.” Turning his head, Sundance watched as his ancient retainer wobbled away, his knees creaking and popping. After but a moment, he returned his attention to his guest, who seemed to be filled with a bubbly, effervent happiness. “Lady Silver Lining, I wish to restore good relations between our lands. What can I do to make things better?”

“Oh! Oh! I don’t know where to start! We have so much work to do, you and I, and once we do it, I’ll have to have you come back to Lulamoon Hollow with me so we can formally revive the old treaties and pen new ones. I’m very excited!”

The big griffoness was, indeed, excited, and Sundance marvelled at just how animated she was, how vivacious and full of nervouscited energy she was. Not feeling the need to be formal, he sat down in the moist grass and wondered how he was supposed to show hospitality, but he couldn’t think of anything that he had to offer her. At some point, it occurred to him that the griffoness had to be smelling the stench of rotten eggs, but not once had she made a face, or a comment, or been rude about it.

Right then and there, Sundance decided that he liked her, and that they could be the best of friends.

“Okay, first off, my husband wanted me to ask you if Boomer could hunt on your lands. She’s a tree dragon, she’s about pony sized, friendly, and likes exploring new territory. The previous fella, he refused, said he didn’t want no dragons on his land. Well, actually, he said a lot of other things, mean things, not nice things, but he’s gone and you’re here now!”

“I don’t see any reason why not—”

“Oh thank you!” Silver Lining gushed while she wrung her talons together.

At ease, Sundance found himself smiling. He kicked out his hind legs a bit, settled more on his haunches, and listened to the world around him. The jingle-jangle of tack, birds chirping, ponies working, and of course, the nervouscited breathing of the big, friendly griffoness. Unable to help himself, he began to wonder what was in the basket.

“Secondly, Sumac wants to know if you are interested in restoring the old treaties, the defensive pacts that we once shared, and oh, he wants to know if the nocturnal pegasus ponies can also hunt on your land. Lulamoon Hollow has quite a population of them and we’re running short on game. In return for your kindness, you would receive their protection.”

“The night terrors?” Sundance felt his muscles tense and he became uncomfortable.

“Oh, don’t be scared… I was raised by one. He’s a little stern but he’s great and he only interrogated poor Sumac just a little when he asked for my talons in marriage.” She laughed, a happy sound, and leaned forwards. “Gosh, Sumac was sweating that day, lemme tell you. Sweatin’ like a watermelon at an earth pony picnic!”

“The pegasus ponies of the night? Big, scary, bat wings?” Sundance felt his throat go dry and the underside of his wings felt itchy. “Is it true what they say… that the night terrors are part dragon?”

“Yes, but there’s no need to be afraid of them, silly.” Silver Lining made a dismissive wave with her talons and her beak clicked together. “At some point, I’ll have you meet my little sister. She almost killed my mother—”

“Killed?”

“Oh! No! No! Not in the way you think! Nononono!” Silver Lining held up her talons and her eyes were pleading. “Little Gloom Treader got her big head stuck in my mother’s backside. But I assure you, little Gloomy is a sweetheart! Just, uh, don’t get too close to her food when she’s eating.” The griffoness let out nervous-sounding laugh that faded into a half-hearted chuckle.

This was, potentially, his first big decision as a leader, and Sundance began to feel a little sweaty while the mental pressure built. This was a goodwill gesture, but also one that offered the benefit of protection. He had already agreed to a dragon, so why not the night terrors? Well, night terrors were scary, for one thing—but then again, so were dragons. Sundance had known a few dragons back in Baltimare, but nocturnal pegasus ponies were unknown to him, scary, spooky, and mysterious. What might his peasants think? Would they even notice? The night terrors would, presumably, be active at night, right? Dragons were dragons and ponies were ponies, but night terrors were neither, and this gave Sundance considerable unease.

Making this decision was a whole lot harder than Sundance felt it needed to be.

Silver Lining was staring at him now with her head tilted off to one side in some birdlike manner. The wind gusted, tugging at her flawless feathers, which rippled in a fetching way. Sundance felt itchy, uncertain, and wasn’t sure how to respond. Was he supposed to ask for something in return? Would that be rude? Diplomacy was about give and take, right? Try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything to ask for, nor could he think of a way to phrase such a question. In the end, he was left with what he felt was the only viable option.

“I welcome the protection of your hunters and I am grateful for your generous offer to defend my land.”

“Hey,” Silver Lining began in a chirpy voice, “that’s a pretty good answer. I think you’ll do well at this. Don’t be so nervous. I wasn’t raised with being a Lady of the land in mind, so I wasn’t prepared and given a whole lot of special education. I did go to a finishing school, Sumac and Pebble paid for it, but I wasn’t great at it. I was about average, and that’s fine, I guess, but I expected more of myself. Just about everything I’ve learned, I’ve done so as I went along, and I’ve learned mostly from the mistakes I’ve made. I started off as absolutely nothing special and now look at me… a Lady of Lulamoon hollow, a diplomat and an emissary. I navigate the Royal Courts and I say that I do pretty good for myself, because I’m honest, warm, sincere, and friendly. If I can make it this far, so can you!”

Something deep inside of Sundance felt warm and squishy when he replied, “Thank you.” No other words seemed forthcoming, and while he searched himself for something else to say, the warm sense of affection gushing from within him helped him calm down a bit.

“There’s a fresh new blanket in the basket.” Silver Lining gestured at the basket behind her by jerking her thumb-talon back over her shoulder. “There’s some candies to help lift your spirits and help you make friends. There’s a little traveller’s tea service set, some tea, and a jar of honey. There’s also the promise of friendship, but that’s more... ephemeral? Is that the word I’m looking for? No, I don’t think it is. Something-something insubstantial.”

“Thank you… for everything.” Sundance held out his hoof, unsure of know a griffon might return a hoof-bump. It was nice meeting somepony much like himself, a commoner thrust into all of this complication.

Much to his surprise, his fetlock was grabbed and Silver Lining gave his hoof a shake that almost pulled him over.

“I’m starving,” she said, still holding onto Sundance’s fetlock. “How about we talk more over a meal, or am I being too forward? Ponies tell me I’m too forward sometimes, but you and I are gonna be the best of friends, I can tell, and I can hear your stomach gurgling.”

“Lunch sounds like a fine idea.” Sundance shook his head and he felt his spirits soar, knowing that he had made a friend. “I’ll see what I can do about getting us fed. Again, thank you for everything.”

“Yay!” Silver Lining cried as she tugged on Sundance’s foreleg. “Lunch!”
> Dirty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a wistful sigh, Sundance watched as Silver Lining shrank in the distance and felt proud about how he had handled himself. A few deals had been struck and more deals would be worked out later. For now, he had the means to cull dangerous threats off of his land, something the previous baron hadn’t done, and Sundance suspected that he knew why. It was far, far easier to keep the peasants in line and at home if they believed that something dreadful would gobble them up. Sundance had no desire to rule with fear, and was of the belief that if given enough time, he could get these ponies to like him—maybe even respect him.

“Cucumber, a word with you.”

“Yes, Milord?” The old retainer strained to hold his head up and his ears stood half-erect.

“Silver Lining made an excellent suggestion during our lunch.”

“Did she, Milord?”

“Bees, Cucumber. I don’t know a thing about them, but we should have some. Some beehives… there’s a word for it, but I can’t remember what it is. We have all these crops and soon, we will have all these sunflowers. Some bees for honey would be great.”

“Sire, there are some wild beehives. We do occasionally get honey from them, so we do. Hmm.” Cucumber began to nod his head, his heavy eyebrows sank over his eyes, and the overall effect made him look sleepy. “Milord, there is an orchard some distance away, and bees can usually be found there.”

“Silver Lining said there is a demand and that medicinal sulphured honey and wax can be supplied to alchemists. We could be meeting that demand, Cucumber. It isn’t much, but it’s a start. I don’t know what one does with sulphured wax, but I guess it’s needed for magical candles. We’re sitting on a fortune in sulphur and this is a passive way to gather it as a resource without damaging the land. Let the bees turn it into a usable product.”

“Very good, Sire. Let us begin a project. It’s been bloody forever since we’ve had a project. Ya can’t go wrong with a project. It’ll break up the boredom, so it will.”

“Cucumber…”

“Yes, Milord?”

“Our orchard… what do we grow?”

“Oh, a bit of this and that. Pears, apples, plums, and a number of nuts, Milord. We sacrifice a lot of it to birds and rodents, but we get enough to be a treat. Why, for special occasions, ol’ Birnen Streusel will make a crumble, so he will. Just look out for Kant Apfel, Milord, bit of a rivalry there, and it’s best not to take sides. Apples and Pears are like oil and water, so they are.”

In the distance, Silver Lining disappeared completely.

“Thank you, Cucumber. Now, I’d like to continue getting to know everypony.”

“Very good, Sire.”





Farming was a new and novel thing for Sundance, and he was quite enamoured with the appeal of it all. It was a special magic all of its own, a wondrous, miraculous act of conjuring food from the dirt. There was a certain romance to it—an undeniable attraction for Sundance, who was raised in the city—and while he stood watching he began to work up the nerve to ask if he could try his hoof at it.

Dusky Plough, another draught pony of exceptional size, made it look easy. The plow seemed to slip through the black soil with the same smoothness that butter spread on toast. Unlike Plowshare, another draft pony, Dusky was not one for singing and was rather quiet as he carved new rows of fresh-tilled earth with an astonishing effortlessness. When Dusky reached the end of the row and was about to turn around, Sundance found his courage.

“Might I try?”

This was followed by an immediate silence, the sort of silence that indicates that reality is baffled at which sound to play next. Having come to a halt, Dusky Plough stood stock still, looking straight ahead, and Cucumber blinked a few times in surprise. A nearby stallion named Grimer Patch, who bore two baskets of seed corn on his back, spat out a greasy glob of tobacco juice and then sauntered off before he could get pulled into this mess.

“Really, I’d like to try to see if I can. May I?”

“Whadoahdo?” Dusky Plough asked Cucumber, still frozen in place.

“Milord, this is most unusual.” Cucumber cleared his throat, took a few steps away, and then turned to look at Sundance.

“I would like to try,” Sundance replied, explaining himself. “I wouldn’t ask any of you to do anything I wouldn’t try to do myself.”

“That is very kind of you to say, Milord, so it is, but this plow is very heavy.”

What did the little engine that could say? I think I can! Eager, Sundance pawed the dirt with his hoof and struck a majestic pose. “It doesn’t hurt to try, does it? Surely there’s no harm in trying, is there?”

“As ya wish, Sire, so be it.”





The wooden yoke was still warm from the previous wearer and Sundance stood still while Cucumber secured the straps. Sundance was on the smaller, slighter side, and much adjusting had to be done, getting the harnesses almost to their smallest point. All of this was really quite exciting and Sundance was raring to go. The plow had been turned and even pointed in the right direction to make things easier, at Cucumber’s insistence.

“Sire, there is a matter which I hesitate to bring up,” Cucumber said in the most refined, most cultured way the old unicorn retainer could muster.

“And what’s that, Cucumber?” Sundance replied.

“Milord, there is no shame in dropping a load while you strain. It is, uh, good for the soil and the plow will take care of it. No shame at all, Sire.” The old unicorn coughed for a moment, cleared his throat, and then tried to appear as dignified as possible. “Good luck, Milord.”

With a bit of nervous laughter, Sundance dismissed the odd warning and was certain that everything would be fine. The wooden yoke was weightier than he had anticipated and left him feeling front heavy. A crowd had gathered, with many ponies ceasing work all together to come and have a watch. Many looked amused, some were shocked, and a small few appeared scared, though Sundance could not imagine why they would be afraid.

“Daylight is burning,” Earwig said while she gestured skyward at the sun.

“Yeah, Dusky could’ve’ad this row finished by now and yer just standing ‘round like a mute rooster,” Earwax added. “Give it a go, already!”

“Yeah, get movin’!”

Taking a deep breath, Sundance leaned into his harness, braced his legs, and pulled forwards.

Nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

The plow did not budge.

Determined to do better, he took another deep breath, threw himself against the wooden yoke, and redoubled his efforts. His hind hooves dug deep into the soil, his front legs, straining from his intense efforts, began to quiver. The hardness of the wooden yoke began to press into his neck, his chest, and his flesh began to ache from the dreadful pressure. Gritting his teeth, he gave it all he had and he could feel his groin muscles burning from the strain.

“I’ve pushed harder than that givin’ birth,” one mare shouted.

“Ha! Hoo, hoo, hoo! I’ve put more effort into pinchin’ a loaf!” Earwig called out as her sister, Earwax, began hooting with laughter.

Was his face burning from the strain or from embarrassment? Sundance couldn’t tell, and he refused to give up. The plow seemed stuck, immovable, even with all of his mustered strength, it wouldn’t budge. Unfurling his wings, he brought them to bear and began flapping, but this did no good. Flapping made things worse, because it pulled his hooves up out of the soil.

Perhaps the plow was stuck?

Digging his hooves into the ground once more, Sundance threw his back into it and gave it his all. Sweat beaded up along his back and his sides from his effort, his eyes went bloodshot, and stars danced in his vision as his brain screamed for air. One misstep almost caused him to stumble and he scrambled to remain upright. The pressure of the yoke on his neck was almost too much to bear and when he threw himself against it once more, he knew he would be bruised.

With a trumpeting, brassy pealing note that echoed through the box canyon, Sundance’s clenched pucker gave way.

“Maybe all that hot air will help him pull the plow!” Earwax shouted while she pitched over into the dirt and began to roll round, clutching her sides. Grabbing at her sister’s leg, the whooping mare pulled her sibling down into the dirt with her and clung to her while crying with laughter.

Giving it everything he had, Sundance only managed to stand up in his harness somehow, his hind hooves now several inches down into the soft soil and his front hooves pawed the air. Panting, he got down on all fours again, leaned into the wooden harness, and tried once more. Dirt compressed into the folds of flesh in his frogs, his sides cramped, and invisible searing-hot pins pierced the muscles in his back, robbing him of the wind in his lungs.

With a whistling, whooping inhale, Sundance collapsed into the dirt and then lay there with his insides on fire. The dirt was somehow both warm and cool against his jerking, quivering flesh and he pressed his cheek against it as he tried to quench the fever that burned him.

“Well, if he can’t even pull a plow, I bet he’s no good in bed, either,” a mare remarked as she snorted and walked away.

“Hoe Hum, shut yer pie hole,” a stallion responded. “All of you laughing… shame on you. When was the last time the last Milord lifted a hoof to help us?”

“Oh, here we go, ol’ Fallow, he’s being self-righteous again! Here comes a lecture about the glorious virtues of hard work!”

“Hard work isn’t always about what you finish, but how hard you try—”

“Oh, shut up, Fallow, nopony wants to hear it.”

“Privy, Fallow has a point—”

“You can shut up too, Goody Goody Spirits, ‘cause yer also a self-righteous little twat.” Snorting, the stocky mare trotted off while tossing her head from side to side while also whip-cracking her tail to and fro.

“A’ight, shows over, you lot. Back to work, all of ya. Earwig, Earwax, go laugh someplace else.” Cucumber’s knees popped like cannon blasts when he moved to help Sundance and he shot the two sisters a scathing glance of disapproval that the fallen pegasus didn’t see.

Every muscle in Sundance’s body now contracted, tensing in agony and every single nerve telegraphed a harried signal that something was wrong. Stars, whole galaxies of them, sprang into and out of existence in his vision. He failed to notice a soft nose nuzzling him and lay in the dirt, panting, wishing this moment of discomfort would hurry up and pass.

“Kant, give Milord some breathing room, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Go on. Off with ya, then.”

Sundance felt a gentle tug as the harnesses were undone and the gentle tingle of magic caressed his skin. The dirt in his feathers tickled his wings but he couldn’t be bothered to flap it out. Try as he might, he couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. He was a medical courier and he flew medical supplies around the city of Baltimare. This was a demanding physical job, hauling heavy loads from the supply depot to the various hospitals, clinics, and pharmacies. There was a certain pride in being able to do this job well, and Sundance was a pony who did an admirable job—his boss had even praised him, calling him strong and dependable.

But this plow? Immovable.

Lowering his head while he unbuckled the straps, Cucumber had a few kind words of reassurance. “Milord, I for one think you did a right noble thing, so you did, and I don’t think nothin’ less of ya. Good on you, Milord, for giving it your best effort.”
> The greatest grandmother of all
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



	Dear Princess Celestia, (Or should I call you Great Grandmother?)

Today, I was heckled by peasants. I found the experience to be quite humbling and I didn’t berate them, or scold them, or threaten them in any way. It is my most sincere hope that I can earn their respect, because respect should be earned and not given, at least, that is what my mother says. She is a highly respected officer of the law, and every day she works hard to maintain that respect. My mother, she doesn’t just expect ponies to respect her because of her badge, no, she works really hard to earn their trust and admiration, and because of this, she is respected by the neighborhood.

Why am I writing this? I don’t know. I’m not sure when I’ll even try to deliver this. For now, I guess, I am writing all of this down to keep track of it. As far as first days go, this one was pretty good and I made a friend, Silver Lining. She flew over from Lulamoon Hollow to say hello and she brought a basket of gifts, including this stationary and an ink pen.

Today, I tried to pull a plow and failed miserably. It left me sore, with achy muscles, and the experience has left me filled with respect for my earth ponies. I couldn’t even make the plow budge one inch and I fell down into the dirt while being laughed at. But I tried, I tried. Even though I failed, I still feel pretty good about it, and I think I can make my failure work out for me.

The sun is setting and the temperature is dropping, though not down to freezing. My ponies are worried about a late freeze, it scares them. This is really different for me to experience. In Baltimare, the neighborhood worried about crime, or one of the factories closing, or weird monsters crawling up out of the ocean or the sewers, or one of the many weird supernatural events that happen there. I guess we have big city concerns? We worry about the rising cost of rent and the housing shortage that approaches a crisis.

But here, the fears and worries are far, far simpler. Everypony has enough food, there’s tons of it stored in the barn and in deep storage caves. Housing is not a problem. Everypony is afraid of something I’ve never, ever worried about before, and that’s a late frost. When we all ate supper together, (which was nice, by the way) that is what we talked about. There is also a real fear of the dark here, because there are no electric lights. Everypony depends on Cucumber to keep the fires lit and the lights burning.

Even as I write this, my ponies have retreated to their cottages to wait out the night. They have shut their doors and it has gone quiet here. The sun hasn’t quite gone away completely, but the Canterhorn is in the way and there isn’t much light left. It’s already a little spooky, and there are a lot of noises I don’t recognise.

I can already see so many stars, and in Baltimare, it is almost as if the stars don’t exist. The coal smog and all of the light from the city makes it almost impossible to see stars. Alas, I am almost out of paper, but I still have so much more that I would like to say.

Warmest regards,

Lord Sundance Sunfire



> Break
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps a mistake had been made. Rain came down through the opening in the roof in a steady trickle—the same opening that allowed all the heat to escape—and water dripped into the fire. This caused the fire to sizzle, spit, steam, and smoke, which in turn, filled the stone cottage with choking smoke—something the fire had already done before it had started raining during the night. Before, the smoke had been a minor annoyance, a tickle to the nose, a slight ache to the lungs, and a persistent need to sneeze, but now? Everything was just so much worse and Sundance could not help but wonder if that, perhaps, a mistake had been made .

The cottage—his cottage—was as cold as an icebox. What little heat that his fire made went straight up and right out the opening in the roof directly above it. Sleeping on a wooden shelf wasn’t comfortable, not at all, and the straw did nothing to cushion him, it only caused him to itch. This was, without a doubt, the most miserable Sundance had ever been in his whole life, which was saying something, because he had once had the feather flu.

But then, as things often do, everything took a turn for the worst when Sundance realised that if he was miserable and suffering, then so too also were his peasants, his ponies. And they had been living this way for years. A deep and abiding sense of shame overcame him when he thought about how one night was enough to break him, and, huddled beneath his blanket, Sundance began to cry while he wished for the consoling, comforting company of his mother.





The floor of the dining hall was a bit muddy and this seemed to concern several ponies, who stood, stared, and clucked their tongues at the offending filth. This place had a good and proper roof that didn’t seem to leak—which made it tempting to move into. A fire blazed in a stone and clay hearth and the smoke was vented through a proper chimney. It was remarkable how good of condition this building was in, and hours must have been spent rubbing the walls with oil for them to gleam the way that they did.

Sadly, the roaring fire did nothing to actually warm the vast hall, which was drafty and cold. The windows only had shutters, not glass, and these rattled in the wind. But by the fire—where Sundance just so happened to be sitting—it was toasty enough. Cucumber too, was sitting next to the fire, bearing whatever misery he endured with a stoic grace that left Sundance feeling rather inadequate.

“What’s for breakfast?” Sundance asked of his trusty retainer. “Or do you not know?”

“Cornmeal mush, with bits of fruits and nuts that’ve survived winter storage,” Cucumber replied. “This dampness’ll be the death of me, so it will. I’ll need a long soak in the springs to get this damnable ache out.”

“Floodgate is out standing in the rain like an idiot—”

“That’s his business, Pinto Bean.”

“I don’t get it, Stump. Why does he like watching running water so much? Why ain’t he got the sense to come in out of the rain?”

Stump drew in a deep breath to summon his patience. “So he can understand how it flows. He’s the reason this box canyon doesn’t flood.” Then, with a huff of annoyance, the older, shorter earth pony stomped away to avoid further conversation.

“Milord, we’re missing a few head,” Cucumber said in a low voice that was a bit raspier than usual. “It’s normal enough. We have some who skip an early breakfast and eat come mid-morning, so they do. And if it is raining, Floodgate won’t likely come inside. If there’s even a hint of flooding, he’ll let us know. He’s like Potato, Milord, and we’d be in trouble without him.”

“Good to know,” Sundance remarked as some of the warmth from the fire eased his cramps from shivering all night.

If this was spring, Sundance couldn’t imagine the sheer brutality of winter. Already, in the back of his mind, he was making a list of priorities and better housing hovered near the top of things to do. How? He didn’t know. These were things that would cost money, no doubt, and he was up to his wingpits in debt. He had once complained about cold floors, and he would whine about how the radiator wasn’t warm enough, but now, having spent just one night in a primitive stone cottage, he would gladly go back to living with cold floors and a creaky, hissy radiator.

As Sundance sat thinking fond thoughts about his once hated radiator, the door was thrown open and a wet, muddy pony stood in the doorway, panting, with her tongue hanging out. Sundance recognised her as Rocky Ridge and he saw right away that her pupils were tiny pinpricks of panic.

“There’s been an accident!” Rocky Ridge almost coughed out the words and her voice was ragged. “I went out to pick mushrooms with Earwig and Earwax! Earwax slipped on the wet grass and got her leg wedged in a crack! She’s bleeding! Come quick! Cucumber, we need you to get her out! Hurry! It’s bad! Real bad!”

Sundance was on his hooves in a second, but Cucumber took far, far longer.





Cucumber utterly lacked the means to hurry and stumbled over the rough ground, his knees popping and crackling with each pained step. Sundance, realising that every second mattered in an emergency, knew that drastic measures had to be taken. Unfurling his wings, he whipped away the raindrops that clung to his feathers and then took to the air with but a few powerful flaps. Upwards he rose, circling like a bird of prey, and then… he dove.

There was a startled cry from Cucumber when Sundance hooked his forelegs around the old unicorn’s barrel, just behind his front legs, and lifted him aloft. The startled cry became a wail of terror as the ground fell away, and Rocky Ridge, realising this was a vital necessity, broke into a full gallop. Even though she was older, she was in marvellous shape and her acceleration was brisk. Sundance flew overhead and Cucumber wailed like a siren that echoed through the canyons of the city.

Others also followed and a small, fast herd was formed. Hooves thundered and tore muddy divots from the black soil. Cucumber’s pitiful screeching hit a fever pitch as his hooves pawed the empty air and his terror flowed out from behind him in a steady yellow stream. Somehow, as a group, the earth ponies were even faster and Rocky Ridge continued to pick up speed as her fellow earth ponies pressed in around her, but Sundance wasn’t struggling to keep up.

In the distance thunder crackled and on the south horizon, black clouds gathered.





With a horrified gasp, Sundance realised that Earwax was hanging by her leg, which was wedged tight in a crevasse. She had slipped, slid down the escarpment, hit the crack, her leg had gone in, and her body had kept going—thus snapping her leg. There was a considerable amount of blood and jagged, splintery shards of bone were visible, having torn through the skin. Earwig was trying to comfort her sister, who whimpered and had her teeth gritted.

Just looking at it made Sundance’s dock tingle and he felt like throwing up.

“Oh, that’s bad, so it is,” Cucumber said from down below where he stood on relatively flat ground. “I done reckon I’ll have to saw that off.”

“First we need to get her out,” Earwig said in a voice that cracked with each spoken word. “We need rope to stop the bleeding, it’s coming out in heartbeat spurts.”

“I brought some rope,” Pea, a stallion, said around the rope he held in his mouth.

Closing his eyes, Cucumber went to work with his magic and a faint glow could be seen around Earwax’s leg. The rocks shifted a bit, the mare bawled in pain, but Cucumber did not falter. When he grunted, the ground parted a bit, the crack in the escarpment spread just a tiny bit, which was enough for Earwig to pull the twisted, lumpy remains of her sister’s leg free.

“Get a tourniquet around that leg and then tie her to my back—”

“Milord?” Cucumber’s eyes fluttered open as the glow from his horn dimmed.

“Don’t take my sister!” Earwig clung to her sibling while also assuming the most submissive posture possible. “Look, I’ll work twice as hard! I won’t be disrespectful, I swear! I’ll do anything you ask… anything! Just don’t take my sister!”

“I need to get her to Canterlot, to a hospital.” Try as he might, Sundance couldn’t understand the panic.

Cucumber was already moving in with the rope and Earwig eased both herself and her sibling down the muddy, gravel-strewn escarpment. The remains of Earwax’s leg flopped around like a scarf in the wind and the injured mare howled in agony. Behind Sundance, somepony threw up, and his ears pivoted backwards to the sound of their retching.

“You’re gonna take her into the woods and leave her! Don’t lie!”

“What?” Sundance blinked a few times in confusion. After a long night with little sleep, no breakfast, and now this, there was just too much to take in. “I have no intentions of doing any such thing! How barbaric!”

“Don’t take my sister!” As Cucumber began to tie a section of rope around the bloody, mutilated stump, Earwig continued to plead. “I’m sorry we were rude! I didn’t mean it! Please, please don’t take her out into the woods and leave her!”

“Milord, the last Milord allowed nature to take its course in matters such as these.” Cucumber cinched the rope tight and the resulting shriek from Earwax made every ear twitch. “There’s no saving that leg. She won’t be able to work and she’ll just be a mouth to feed that does nothing—”

“Cucumber, shut up!” Stomping his hooves against the stony ground, Sundance tried to get a grip on his own rising panic. “We don’t have much time and I need to get her to Canterlot. Get that mare strapped to my back right now and try to secure that leg somehow!”

“Milord—MASTER! Please!” Earwig let go of her sister and crawled on her belly to grovel before Sundance. Laying prostrate in the mud, she began weeping while reaching for Sundance’s front hooves. “I will do anything you ask and never once make a word of protest! I am giving the whole of my life to you for hers! Let me care for her! Don’t take her!”

Sundance grunted when Earwax was slung over his back and she was far, far heavier than he anticipated. Lightning crackled in the south and several heartbeats later, thunder rumbled. The rain was picking up now, washing away the blood. Rivulets of water trickled down from Sundance’s mane and into his eyes. Earwax struggled, but she was weak—too much of her blood was now in the soil and not in her body where it belonged.

“There won’t be no flying’ in that storm,” Cucumber said while he wound the rope around both Sundance and Earwax. “Rather than flying off with her, perhaps we should go home and I could tend to her there. I could have what’s left of that leg off in no time with a saw, so I can. Surely we can talk about what to do—”

“Don’t take my sister!”

“I’m taking your sister to Canterlot and I’m not leaving her in the woods! That’s horrendous!” Sundance had to lean into a powerful gust of wind blowing up from the south and it’s icy chill stung his flesh. His muscles sang with adrenaline and his wings ached to be flying. “Nopony gets left out in the woods, I promise!”

“The last Milord made promises too,” a quiet voice said. “He never kept a one of them. Why should we trust you?”

“Because I’m not an asshole!” Sundance snapped and he winced when Cucumber pulled the rope taut. “I’m taking Earwig to—”

“Earwax, Milord.”

“I’m taking Earwax to Canterlot and that’s final! And then she’s coming home, where she belongs, and that’s all there is to say about it!” The rough rope being wound around Sundance was sure to leave rope-burns, but that was the least of his concerns. Eyeballing the storm, he knew that he needed to get moving, and now. When Earwig clutched his front hoof, he looked down at her and felt his heart breaking.

“Don’t take my sister,” she wailed. “Send us away together so I can take care of her!”

“Cargo secured, Milord.” Cucumber’s voice was thick with regret. “Sire, I beg of you to reconsider.”

“Cucumber, you are in charge until my return,” Sundance commanded. “I must be going!” Spreading his wings, he turned around, facing the wind, and took off at a run, angling his wings into the powerful gusts with the hopes of getting the most lift. Earwax was much heavier than he anticipated, exceeding even the heaviest loads of cargo that he had once carried on his courier job.

Pumping his wings, Sundance lowered his head, squinted his eyes, and charged into the wind. His hooves slipped in the muddy earth and he had to scramble to remain upright, to not pitch over. The tight rope cut into his belly, his sides, and his wingpits, restricting his movements. He hadn’t thought this through very well, and Cucumber clearly didn’t know how to secure a load to a pegasus. When at last his hooves left the earth and did not return, Sundance let out a crow of triumph as he began to soar, skimming just above the muddy, rocky ground.

“Don’t take my sister!”
> Blown
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something truly terrible came roaring out of the Everfree, a feral storm the likes of which Sundance had never imagined. Tall thunderheads, angry and puffy, flew north like a flock of truculent, choleric anvils returning in the spring. Tall as a mountain, illuminated from within with crackling bolts of lightning, boiling with rage, they were a terrific, terrifying sight to behold. Sundance’s blood ran cold in his veins at the sight of the ancient enemy of the pegasus pony tribe.

It had to be more than a hundred miles to Canterlot, how far exactly, Sundance could not say. The storm came in hard and fast on his left, trying to blow him off course, and when the strong gusts broadsided him, Earwax mewled in agony. Sundance was little more than a speck in a vast sea of sky, a mere grain of sand compared to the leviathans approaching. Rain came in sideways, drenching Sundance, and causing the rope to swell with water.

The swollen rope cut deeper with every frantic movement.

Confusing crossdrafts hurled him up, pushed him down, and the dreadful turbulence made the horizon difficult to keep track of. Soon, Sundance would be swallowed up by clouds and that would make things harder, because the ground and sky would no longer be visible. Never in his life had he ever faced a situation quite like this one, and he had flown in many powerful storms in Baltimare that had blown in from the ocean.

Pumping his wings, he pulled up, hoping to gain some much needed altitude. Fierce gusts buffeted him as the storm grew closer and he was panting now with exertion. All of that time spent flying with heavy loads was now paying off and Sundance believed that he had the endurance to make it—though it would not be pleasant. His empty stomach growled, demanding food, and the flock of thunderheads rumbled in reply.

The ancient enemy had no mercy—as it had only the barest of intelligence. Sundance knew from his grandmother’s stories that feral storms had their own crude self-awareness, a predatory need to cause misery, fear, and destruction, the very things they fed upon to grow strong. The sudden change of atmospheric pressure could be felt as peculiar sensations in his teeth, as if he suddenly had too much tooth in too little of a space.

He had failed to pull a plow, much to his own embarrassment and humiliation, but failure now had higher stakes. Not just his own life, but Earwax’s, whose movements were feeble and leaden. For all Sundance knew, she was dying and he operated under that assumption. Gritting his teeth, he ascended, fighting his way upward and struggling for every inch gained. He wasn’t Sundance any longer, no, he was Lord Sundance Sunfire, and he was a pony who had duties. His mother had raised him to honour and obey his grandmother, and now, Sundance had a far more demanding grandmother.

Had an older, wiser, more seasoned pegasus been around, they might have told Sundance that one mile of climb in such conditions was impossible, and it would have been better to seek shelter to wait the storm out—but Sundance was alone, save for the injured mare he carried, and no such wisdom was available.

The wind flung him about, hurling him for whole yards in different directions, sometimes even downwards, but he somehow kept his nose pointing upwards. Flying one hundred miles in level flight was a breeze, but flying one mile straight up took a bit of effort. Doing so in a powerful feral tempest took grit and Sundance was eager to tell his parents and his grandmother this story, provided he lived through it.

Mocking faces manifested in the flock of anvils, puffy, distorted countenances illuminated by witch-green lightning that flashed from within. They were close now and getting closer. A cloudy fog approached, the outermost bands of the storm, and the first few stinging hailstones struck Sundance. What gave storms such disgusting, distorted physiognomy? Such horrendous lineaments? Why couldn’t feral storms be friendly, harmonious creatures?

How far did he have to go? He wasn’t sure. He had flown for several hours at cruising speed to reach the barony. First east, along the railroad tracks, and then north at the railway depot. Now, he was flying in what he hoped was a more direct course, though he knew that he could be blown about and get lost in the big wide sky.

For now, his primary concern was going up, and he would figure out the rest as needed.





From a great height, the skies were sunny. Bruised, battered, beat up and busted, Sundance had flown up and out of the reach of the feral storms, but he was not yet out of danger. It was cold up here and he worried what the temperature might be doing to Earwax. Canterlot now existed in the uppermost reaches of the storm, the highest layers of the swirling maelstrom. To reach Canterlot would mean going back down.

Sundance was able to glide a bit and catch his breath, a few moments of precious respite, but he knew that time was short. He was off course a bit, with Canterlot now west-southwest, which meant that the storm really had hammered him. One eye was almost swollen shut and his vision, his depth perception, was impaired. Somehow, he had managed. Now came the tricky part; approaching Canterlot in hurricane force winds and landing.

Could it be done? Maybe. Would he survive it? He hoped. Sundance had a good understanding of the risks and there was no turning back now. Earwax needed the help. She was still alive—he could feel her breathing against his neck—but she had ceased moving and didn’t seem responsive.

Adjusting his course, Sundance returned himself to the storm, not knowing how this might end.





Canterlot had always been a precarious city plagued by winds and the residents who lived there reveled in their own continued existence. It was said that there was even a special type of happiness to be had on days when smoke blew sideways from the chimneys. The earth ponies of Canterlot were a hearty breed, the pegasus ponies were daredevils, and the unicorns were not to be trifled with. Each faced the frequent storms in their own way, many with a stiff upper lip and a rigid spine.

Even so, all flights over Canterlot had been grounded and the skies were empty during Sundance’s approach. His wings were glazed with frost, tiny icicles hung from his eyelashes, and his snot had frozen in his nostrils. Behind him, his tail was a mess of clumped, tangled hair and clinging, frozen hailstones. Iced over such as he was, he was not in good control of his flight, and he had never learned how to de-ice himself while airborne.

Now, somehow, he had to find himself a hospital and land.





Circling overhead, Sundance spotted a medical landing pad, but knew that he would never be able to perform a rooftop landing in these conditions. Violent crosswinds blew down the urban canyons between the towers and swirling eddies rose up out of narrow alleys. The storm clung to the Canterhorn like an amorous paramour that had no concept of the word ‘no.’

It was snowing in Canterlot, a spring blizzard, and visibility was rather poor. While Sundance had been able to see the rooftop landing pad from above, down near street level, conditions were treacherous. Earwax was shivering now, a faint, feeble tremble that alarmed Sundance a great deal. How much blood had she lost? How much longer would she survive in these conditions? Had it already been too long?

Doing his best to level out, Sundance began his long approach, with the intention of using the street in front of the hospital as a runway. It was narrow and little snow devils could be seen dancing among the hidden currents that cut against one another. Much to his surprise, there were ponies down on the street, out doing whatever it was that ponies did on a day such as this one.

Dropping down between the minarets and onion domes, Sundance wondered what it would feel like to be skewered upon one of the many lightning rods stabbing skyward from atop the towers. He was buffeted by strong gusts that almost smashed him right into the buildings along his left, and just as he was starting to compensate, the wind changed directions. Now, the structures to the right of him were almost his undoing.

Below him, ponies shouted and pointed. A headwind blew Sundance backwards for a time, and he pulled out of a terrific crash at the last second. He was mere yards above the street, which was crowded with wagons and ponies. The wind was too strong, too powerful, too cold, and Sundance could feel his strength starting to flag.

“Clear me a path!” he bellowed in his loudest inner-city voice. “Emergency!”

With that, he let the wind take him and he pulled up. Soon, he was out of danger—in a relative sense anyhow—and he flew above the city while he circled around to make his approach again. It was difficult to see, but it did look like the street was being cleared. The ice on his wings made him heavy and robbed him of fine control. His swollen eye had frozen over, robbing him of sight completely on one side.

Even better, he saw multi-coloured lights forming the outline of a corridor and after a moment of intense squinting, he guessed that unicorns had formed a makeshift runway. Pushing his nose into the wind, he dove and made his second approach, hoping that he wouldn’t smash into the towers on either side of him. It was terrifying how narrow the streets were, how cramped, how claustrophobic. Baltimare was cramped too, but the city was also spread out. Canterlot was a can of sardines by comparison.

Sundance clipped his wing against a gilded balcony railing, but he couldn’t pull it in to him, clutch at it, and whine and cry about it. The agonising jolt did knock some ice free though and this helped him to navigate the swirling vortexes that ran rampant up and down the street where he was trying to land. Horizontal icicles stuck out like spears on either side of him, threatening to skewer him if he strayed too close.

“Coming in heavy!” Sundance shouted, hoping that somepony would hear him.

His legs were jittery, trembling from a flood of adrenaline, and this was made much worse when a cluster of sideways, stab-happy icicles passed mere inches away from his one open eye. It was far too close for comfort and Sundance flapped like mad to correct his course. The street couldn’t be more than three yards below him and he just had to find some way to stabilise himself just a little bit more so he could make a safe approach. Snapping off one of his own legs would be disastrous.

He was out of runway. Gritting his teeth, he pulled up as hard as he could and for a moment, the force of gravity was almost too much to bear. The ropes around him—frozen and caked with ice—creaked and made popping sounds. Something in his left wing, the one he had struck, gave way and he felt a significant weakness overtake him. What had he done? Was this the death of him? Gravity, a mean mistress, tugged his eyeballs back into his skull and squished his brain. Stars, millions of them danced in his vision and somehow, by some miracle, Sundance leveled out.

Gasping, veering heavily to the left because of his weakened wing, Sundance rode above the storm once more, but he had reached the end of his endurance. Perhaps if he had eaten breakfast, things might have gone better. How long had he been flying? Hours? It felt like days. Tears threatened to freeze solid over his one good eye and the leaking moisture made his face burn in the wind.

This time, there would be no turning away, and Sundance made his final approach.
> Going down
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Sundance came in hot and heavy with a fierce tailwind that hastened his approach, he realised that if he survived this somehow, he would be a pegasus with a flying story. This gave him the determination he needed to go on and he steeled his resolve. There were two kinds of pegasus ponies in the world; those who lived humdrum lives who never once did anything remotely exciting, and those who had not only done something bat pony insane, but also lived to tell the tale.

Snow came at him sideways and from behind while an oppressive downdraft shoved him down towards the street. He was coming in too hard, too hot, too fast, and grinding his teeth, he thought about trying to pull out so he could make another pass, but came to the conclusion that the wind had no mercy. He was going down, like it or not, and he was about to become one with the cobblestones.

Wagons had been pulled onto the sidewalks and the street was clear as possible, which is to say it had a narrow, unforgiving path that was as crooked as a kinked draconequus. This was going to hurt—a lot—and he would be lucky to survive it. Too fast, too fast, too fast! First contact was made near a vegetable cart and somehow, Sundance avoided breaking his wing on it. The impact sent shockwaves of pain through his hooves, his frogs, fetlocks, and for a moment, it seemed as though his legs would shatter into matchsticks.

He skated over iced cobblestones, which rattled and bounced his body. His teeth clattered, sending painful jolts through his skull that left him swimmy headed. Now, he was skating down the street at a breakneck speed with no control, no steering, dazed and stupid from impact. Ponies hustled at the last minute to try and widen the path, pushing and shoving away obstructions in the street.

“Piper”—the voice was mechanical, grating, raspy, and loud enough to dominate everything—“put an end to this at once!”

Just as Sundance was about to crash into a barricade of parked wagons, he came to an abrupt, lurching stop that caused his teeth to clack together and he almost bit his tongue. Every bit of his momentum was fully arrested and he found himself completely immobilised. Out of the corner of his good eye, somepony approached…

Or perhaps somepony was the wrong word. The wind tugged at a dark green cloak and long, spindly steel legs were revealed that moved with an odd mechanical gait. There was something spider-like about the legs, something unnerving, something unsettling. Beneath the cowl was a steel mask that looked like a bird’s face, and bright red eyes could be seen glowing within the shadows beneath the hood.

“Behold the foolhardy loyalty of the pegasus pony,” the nightmarish mechanical figure said in its woodchipper voice while it approached. “Oh my, that’s a nasty injury. Flicker, remove these ropes at once, time is of the essence.”

Sundance found himself released from whatever was holding him and turning his head, he asked, “What are you?”

“Why,” the cloaked, cowled figure responded and his mechanical respirator gave his voice a terrific resonance, “I am a Lord Balister. Who might you be, foolhardy, loyal one?”

Two unicorns flanked the horrifying mechanical—whatever it was—along with what appeared to be an earth pony. Sundance could feel the ropes being loosened, but even the gentle tugs still cut cruelly into his skin. He winced, but did not cry out, and somehow, he remained standing, though he was not sure how. The unicorn mare was thin—too thin, while the stallion was a short, stocky, hulking behemoth.

“I am Sundance and this is one of my peasants.” Breathless, he had to suck in a lot of wind to keep going. “She broke her leg and she’s lost a lot of blood. Hurry, she needs help right away. Please help me.”

The mechanical pony-thing stood breathing, chuffing like a nightmarish locomotive, and each breath was like a blacksmith’s bellows whooshing. All four of his legs were as thin as steel curtain rods and cringe-inducing scarring could be seen along what was left of his body. When Earwax was lifted from his back, Sundance was so relieved that his body went limp and he would have pitched over into the snow had he not been caught.

The unicorn mare that lifted him and held him, the whites of her eyes were a sickly yellow, and he did his best not to stare. Her face was pinched, thin, and it was obvious that she had seen grievous injury. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get his legs to behave, and with a pained gasp, he gave up. When the mare held him aloft, he squirmed, but offered no protest. Now was not the time to refuse the kindness of strangers.

“So Lord Sundance is it then?” The red eyes flashed in the light as Lord Balister’s head tilted off at an angle. “Flicker, this is the one you signed off on, right?”

“It was Princess Celestia’s command,” the burly unicorn stallion replied. “I could not refuse her request.”

Balister’s snort sounded like a rivet gun going off. “Let’s get them inside. Okay ponies! Clear the street! Show’s over! Go back to your day! I want this road cleared right now!”

Without further ado, Sundance found himself being carried inside, along with Earwax.





“Do you know her age?” the nurse asked while throwing a second blanket around Sundance’s withers.

“I told you, no I don’t.” When the needle was pushed into his neck to draw his blood, he winced but tried to hold still. “I only know that her name is Earwax and that’s it. I just met her. I was just put in charge of the barony and now this has happened and it’s only my second day on the job and I—”

“Sir, take a deep breath and calm down,” another nurse said, interrupting.

“Will she live?” Sundance asked while his blood was being taken.

“We have no way of knowing. I’m sorry.” The nurse drawing his blood pulled away one vial and loaded a second one into place while another nurse—the one who had draped the blankets over Sundance’s withers—pulled out a blood pressure cuff and a stethoscope. “The doctor wants this eye examined and he’s scheduled for x-rays. Let’s finish up triage, ladies.”

“Am I okay?” Sundance asked and for the first time, he began to worry about himself.

“Probably not, but we can get you patched right up,” the nurse taking his blood replied.





One wing, sprained in multiple places and a bruised terminal phalanx. Microfissure cracks in all four hooves. Multiple abrasions and friction burns from rope. A multitude of contusions and bruises from hailstone impacts. One eye, blackened. All of this with severe muscle strain everywhere. Sundance counted himself lucky. Earwax too, had also endured quite a battering on top of losing her leg, though he had heard nothing about her condition.

Sundance now sat in a room, alone, and tried not to lose his mind or go crazy. His room was cheerful, with a green floor, blue walls, and a white ceiling. Cartoonish animals covered the walls and some of them were having a picnic. This was a hospital for foals—at least under most circumstances—and the room reflected that. When everything was said and done, with his examination and x-rays finished, Sundance had been offered his choice of whatever flavour of lollipop of his liking by a teasing, good natured nurse.

Outside of his window, a springtime blizzard had turned the world greyish-white.

He was now a pegasus with a flying story, though not a good crash story, which was tragic in its own way. He had read in a book that having a good crash story could make a potential mate sympathetic. The flying story was a good one though, especially the part where he met a half-pony half-mechanoid that was the Grand Marshal of Canterlot. What was a Grand Marshal? Sundance had no idea, but it sure sounded impressive. Lord Balister and his trusted retinue had exited the Weeping Sister Hospital after making a donation just as Sundance had made his final approach.

There was a soft rapping at the door, which then opened. A stunning, statuesque mare entered, and Sundance recognised her right away. She carried with her two steaming waxed cardboard cups and the rich smell of spiced chai assaulted Sundance’s battered, wind-burned nostrils. Lifting his head from his pillows, he addressed her with a smile.

“Lady Fleur, I am surprised to see you.”

The graceful mare set one cup down upon the table beside Sundance’s bed, then stood there, looking him over, her eyes glimmering with heartfelt concern. Holding one cup aloft, her mouth formed a worried, pouty pucker, and her ears rose and fell a number of times while her emotions ping-ponged.

“Fancy Pants couldn’t make it so I came in his stead. Darling, you look positively dreadful! Are you in much pain? What did the doctors tell you? They wouldn’t tell me. You will be a dear and tell me, won’t you?”

“I’m fine,” Sundance said and he did his best to be reassuring. “I’m expected to make a full recovery with some rest. I am more worried about Earwax than I am about myself.”

“That makes you a good colt.” Fleur Dis Lee paused for a moment, shook her head, and then she corrected herself. “That makes you a fine young stallion. I did not intend to demean you, if I happened to do so.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re very gracious.” Lady Fleur pulled her scarf off, folded it up into a neat bundle, and then stowed it in her saddlebags, which were still damp from the weather. “What you did was an act of extraordinary bravery. Fancy Pants was right to put his faith in you. There has been much discussion as to how you would perform and it seems that Princess Celestia made a fine choice.”

“I do believe the previous lord would have taken her into the woods and left—”

“Oh merciful alicorns, that’s monstrous!” Mouth agape, Fleur appeared as though she might faint at any moment and one vein could be seen throbbing in her neck. “Promise me that you would never do such a thing! Promise.”

“It’s horrible and I—”

“PROMISE!” One dainty hoof struck the tile floor with enough force to make Sundance’s ears ring.

“I promise,” Sundance said, not knowing what else to say, and he leaned back into his pillow. “It’s been unsettling… I’ve learned a few things… bad things…” Shaking his head, Sundance failed to come up with the necessary words to express how he felt. He had to turn his head to look at his cup of chai, which was hidden from him on his blind side. Steam rose from the open cup and he watched it as it curled upwards towards the ceiling.

“I understand the conditions there are quite rough and comforts are few and far between.” Fleur sniffed once, twice, and then took a step backwards. “I also understand that your barony is rich with the most fantastic mineral springs which are said to be advantageous to one’s good health.”

“Do I stink like eggs?” Sundance asked while suddenly feeling self-conscious about himself.

“Yes, my dear, but only just a little,” Fleur replied while she retreated another step. “I do believe the storm blew off the worst of it.” Leveling her gaze upon Sundance, she began to breathe through her mouth while trying to appear that she wasn’t doing just that. “It can be quite difficult to adjust to deprivation, to go from a proper life in the city to suddenly having no comforts. Other young lords and ladies have also endured these trials and tribulations. It can be quite taxing. Some have quit their post and abdicated. Sadly, some ponies just aren’t cut out for that kind of life. I, for one, do not think I could cope with such a change in circumstances. It would be so dreadfully trying.”

“This morning was pretty miserable.” Mid-sentence, Sundance’s stomach rumbled to remind him that he still hadn’t eaten yet. He thought about waking up in the cold after shivering all night and how poorly he had slept in a smoke-choked room. This morning had almost been his breaking point, but then, other things happened, far worse things, and he had somehow endured it all.

Perhaps he was made of sterner stuff than he believed.

Again the door opened and an older mare entered bearing a tray. Sniffing, Sundance’s whole body went rigid from the scent of food, and Fleur stepped aside so the orderly could reach the bed. Sundance struggled to sit up, and his battered, rope-burned stomach protested by sending jolts of agony spearing through his guts.

“What’s for lunch? I’m starving…” Sundance went silent when he saw that the portions of food were decidedly foal-sized ones.

“Wheat-meat nuggets with honey mustard dipping sauce,” the older mare recited in a dull monotone. “Macaroni and cheese, tater tots, peas, carrots, and hot buttery corn niblets.”

Unable to stop himself, Sundance whimpered and when he faced the orderly, he did his best to look as pitiful as possible. “May I please have seconds?”

“Only if you finish everything on your plate, youngster. No eating the nuggets and leaving the veggies, you little hooligan. We don’t reward picky eaters here… no, we put the kibosh on that, pronto.” Leaning in closer, the mare’s brows beetled. “If you dump your veggies beneath your bed, I’ll find out about it, trust me, and no puppet show for you later. That’ll be something you’ll regret, mark my words, youngster. We put on the best production of The Great and Powerful Trixie Versus the Ursa Major that you’ll ever see.”

At this point, Lady Fleur was snickering.

Frustrated, Sundance stammered, “I-I-I am no hooligan! I drink my tea like a good and proper pony! And I most certainly won’t hide my veggies beneath the bed!”

“So says the scofflaw daredevil who violated the no fly order and crashed in the street.”

Going silent, Sundance did his best to look sullen and he glared at the snide orderly.

“I’ll be back in about ten or fifteen minutes to check on you. I’ll have a second tray, but you had better eat your veggies. No excuses. I know your type.” With that, the mare shuffled off, no doubt to deliver other trays and spread her own special brand of cheer to the other scofflaws, hooligans, and vegetable tossers.

Grumbling, Sundance tried to get himself into a position where he could eat and the orderly shut the door behind her. Fleur was still laughing, a muted, reserved sound, and Sundance cast a dubious eye on his wheat-meat nuggets—all five of them. These had never been his favourites, but the steaming hot tater tots—all seven of them—would be a fantastic treat.

“Remember to eat your veggies,” Fleur said, and then she took a careful, cautious sip of her chai. “Sundance, do you need some help? You appear to be struggling, darling.”

With a sigh of resignation, Sundance went limp in the bed after struggling to raise his leaden body to a proper eating position. He lay there, his breathing heavy, laboured, and after a time, he nodded. “Yes, help would be appreciated, thank you.”

“Give me a moment, darling, and I shall be glad to help you.”
> Black and Blueblood
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fleur was gone after keeping him company for a little over an hour or so, and Sundance was reduced to solitude. Half-awake, half-aware, he drifted perilously close to slumber, and his aching, exhausted body begged him to let go. But let go it did not. Just as he would approach the precipice, his mind would seize upon a memory and the resulting jolt would restore his fast-fading awareness.

Like so many other colts who thought they were clever, he had once snuck up to the roof for a cigarette. His mother had caught him—his scent had betrayed him—and she had done nothing to punish him. There was no second time, because he knew that if he was caught again, there would be no mercy. He was allowed to get away with just about anything, once. His mother believed that experience was the best teacher, and so he was allowed to make his own mistakes. He was also allowed to fully experience the consequences.

When he was younger, before he had his mark, before he found his way, he fancied himself as something of a writer, and when he was in school, he roamed the city to listen to all of the things that the residents of the city had to say. He had gone about, he was quiet, and he had listened. Nopony paid much attention to foals hanging about, and loose tongues wagged. Sundance wrote down much of what he had heard, and then, once he was home, he tried to construct a scenario as to why somepony might have said what they had said.

His attempts to write met little success, but he developed empathy.

The quiet sounds of his parents bickering echoed in the pain-dulled recesses of his mind. Shouting was rare, but it did happen on occasion. Never once had there been violence, and explosive anger never lasted long. One day, his mother and father realised they were still good friends, but they weren’t in love, and cohabiting with one another had been a dreadful mistake that had damaged their friendship. The day before his father had left, Sundance’s mother had fixed him his favourite meal and baked him a cake.

Of all of the lessons that Sundance might have learned from his parents, he had learned to not hold a grudge.

In the classroom he had his schooling, but it was on the rough city streets of Baltimare that Sundance had his education. Hard work had no guarantee of reward, but that was no reason to give up. It was certainly no reason to turn to crime, drugs, or vice. At least, his father had convinced Sundance of that. As for his mother, the beat cop? Officer Mom? She was the evidence that crime didn’t pay.

Getting his first real adult job as a medical courier had been a moment of triumph. Getting a job selling drugs might have paid more, and there were a lot more bits to be had in robbery and vice, but he had a respectable, honest job. His mother was proud of him and she had baked him a cake, as she was wont to do. She had also sat down and had a drink with him. Sundance could still remember the fizziness of the cider, and his lightheadedness.

But his greatest satisfaction came from throwing himself into his project…





Sundance snorted himself awake to the sound of somepony clearing their throat. One eye opened while the other eye was still swollen shut. Confusion reigned for a few seconds while the real world burned its way into his consciousness; meanwhile, the tapping of hailstones against the window were distracting. Two ponies were examining his injured wing, one older pegasus, and one young unicorn.

“What’s going on?” Sundance mumbled.

“We’re worried about the swelling,” the older pegasus replied.

“Compartment syndrome is a concern,” the younger unicorn said. “That bone bruise in your terminal phalanx is quite nasty. Might be bleeding in the muscles of your wing. The swelling is alarming.”

“Am I in trouble?” Sundance blinked a few times to try and clear his blurry, fuzzy vision.

“Goodness no.” The older pegasus offered up a reassuring smile and lifted his head to look Sundance in the eye. “We have a healer on staff. He’s young and a bit inexperienced, and he’s certainly no Princess Cadance, but he did get some training from her. Such a rare gift, healing.”

“Right now, he’s resting a bit,” the unicorn said while he continued to examine Sundance’s wing with one squinty eye. “Healing your friend exhausted him—”

“Is she okay?” Sundance blurted out while his mind hastened to sudden full awareness.

“She’s had a rough go, but she is expected to recover. I can’t tell you much more, I’m afraid, because of patient protection policies and such.” The pegasus’ smile never wavered. “We can only give detailed info to family members—”

“But I need to know!” Sundance struggled to sit up, but a warm, tingling force pressed him back down into the bed. Still, he struggled, even though everything hurt, and his legs felt leaden when he willed them into action. “I’m responsible for her! I’m her caretaker! I have to know that she’s okay! You have to tell me!”

“You will tell him,” a deep, rumbling, somewhat nasal baritone commanded, a familiar voice that Sundance couldn’t quite place in his current condition. “By my orders, you will give Lord Sundance Sunfire anything he requests, or you will be made to answer for your insubordination. Am I understood?”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty.” The older pegasus gave a nod and his smile vanished, perhaps heading south until the spring blizzard was over.

“Is she okay?” Sundance asked, pleading.

Sighing, the old pegasus stepped away from the bed, but remained in Sundance’s field of vision. “We couldn’t save her leg. I’m not even sure if Princess Cadance could have saved her leg, and she can perform truly miraculous healings. The radius and humerus were completely shattered and we had to amputate everything from the scapula downward.”

Upon hearing this, Sundance went still, his struggles ceased, and he closed his eye.

“It was a clean removal,” the pegasus continued in a flat monotone, devoid of emotion, warmth, or feeling. “The whole area was tidied up in surgery and was healed over to leave behind a smooth, clean, scar-free surface. No stump left behind to snag or bang on things. No mess of sensitive scar tissue. It’ll be much better for her this way and she’ll have a fine quality of life, even with three legs.”

“A pony can adapt to life on three legs just fine,” the younger unicorn said and now, he was the reassuring one. He let go of Sundance’s wing, harrumphed as if he was much, much older, and then, pulling a clipboard out from the foot of Sundance’s bed, he began to write something down.

“We’ll be back in an hour or so to check on you,” the pegasus said as his companion stepped away. “That wing is a worry, but soon it’ll be right as rain. You have my word.”





Prince Blueblood sat in the corner of the room, scowling a magnificent scowl, and a pale white colt stood beside his chair. Sundance, now laying on his side, was able to see his guests with his good eye. His legs felt too long, his head was too far away from his body, and it felt as though his ears were full of cotton.

“Why are you here?” Sundance asked.

In response, Prince Blueblood tossed his head about, flinging his forelock from his face, and replied, “To ensure that you were not thrown out on the street like a common beggar. Good grief, how stupid does one have to be to fly into Canterlot when there is a storm? I didn’t think that anypony was that monumentally stupid, not even Prince Gosling, and he’s an insufferable fop. It seems we have a new Prince of the Witless Wonderdolts.”

“What else was I to do?” Sundance demanded.

“Oh, I don’t know, fly to Ponyville?” Prince Blueblood’s eyes narrowed while he shook his head from side to side.

“Really, why are you here? And who is that with you?” Sundance glanced at the much friendlier looking colt.

“Nuance is my apprentice.” Prince Blueblood made a dismissive wave with his hoof. “As if my life wasn’t complicated enough, I was saddled with a dolt apprentice. Nopony else wanted anything to do with him, and I was coerced into doing the right thing. Family… you know how it is. Nepotism. Now he is just one more headache among many.”

Upon hearing this, Sundance was moved to sympathy for Nuance, who no doubt bore the brunt of Prince Blueblood’s boorishness.

“We came here on behalf of my mother, Princess Celestia, with a sincere message of thanks.” The colt cleared his throat, stood up a little straighter, and held his head at a prim, proper angle. “You went above and beyond the call of duty, and for this, the Crown is grateful.”

“I can’t wait until that wretched prepubescent squeak of yours is finally gone,” Prince Blueblood remarked and the colt’s face turned a bright, beet red.

For a moment, Sundance thought about saying something, but he bit his lip. Prince Blueblood had been helpful so far and would no doubt continue to be so in the future. As for Nuance though, Sundance made a mental note to be nice to the poor colt in further meetings, because the poor kid had the unenviable position of being Prince Blueblood’s lackey.

When Nuance spoke again, his voice was extra squeaky. “To teach me responsibility, I have been put in charge of all future correspondence between your barony and the Crown. My mother, Princess Celestia, she stays very busy, so all future communicative inquiries, formal requests, and things of that nature are to be made through me. Princess Celestia very much wants you to have success, and now, I am one of the many resources at your disposal. Ask for me by name.”

Sundance wondered how long the colt had rehearsed his lines.

“You know, that day in the cafe, you weren’t so bad, but right now—”

“Yes?” Prince Blueblood cut in with one eyebrow arched.

“You’re a bit harsh on the poor colt.” Sundance watched, waited, trying to read the prince’s expression, but there was nothing to read, nothing to be had on the perfect mask that was the prince’s face.

The prince laughed, a sarcastic sound, which caused Nuance to tuck his tail between his legs. “Your sudden celebrity status is to my advantage. Welcome to the game, Lord Sundance Sunfire. Play well, or expect to be played.” Prince Blueblood smiled and there was something about his eyes. “Come, Nuance, our work is done here. Sundance has been properly thanked. Perhaps we shall return to check upon him on the morrow.”

“Goodbye, Lord Sundance, it was nice meeting you.” Nuance bowed his head while his master rose, and he sidestepped to be out of Prince Blueblood’s way.

“We’ll talk, Nuance,” Sundance replied, and he shot his sternest look in Blueblood’s direction.

As the pair of them made their way to the door, Sundance realised that things might not be quite as they seemed, that first impressions could be false ones, and that he was, in fact, playing a game. Lady Pebble was The Dominator for a reason, he supposed, she played the game well. He didn’t even know the rules and he was certain that this put him at a crippling disadvantage. What was Prince Blueblood’s part in this, anyhow? Sudden celebrity status?

Alone once more, Sundance had much to think about.
> Bedpan rhymes with deadpan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A wan ray of morning sunlight somehow found its way through Sundance’s window, and he was grateful to see the sun. His body, though mostly healed, still had a few lingering aches. A whining, whinnying yawn escaped and he raised his foreleg to protect his eyes from the golden light. Whatever painkillers he had been given yesterday had left his mind a little fuzzy, a little foggy, and his eyes a little sensitive.

When he woke a little more, he thought of Earwax, of his mother, and of the fact that his stomach was empty, but something else was full. Would his hooves still be tender? He didn’t know. They had told him that his healed hooves would be harder now after the impact, and that this kind of injury was treated all the time with newly recruited guards. He was tough now, and he couldn’t wait to tell his mother about all of this, perhaps over tea.

With a need born of sheer necessity, Sundance set off on an adventure to find a bathroom.





“The incy-wincy breezie crawled up the waterspout. WOOSH came the rain and washed the poor breezie out. Out came Celestia’s sun, which dried up all the rain, and the incy-wincy breezie crawled up the spout ag—oh hi, nurse!” Grinning from ear to ear, Sundance gave the stern looking nurse his best sheepish grin while the foals around him giggled at his seeming misfortune.

“Somepony was not in their bed when I went looking for them,” the nurse deadpanned.

“That’s because that somepony was in the potty and not in his bed.”

“And this somepony is now in the playroom, unsupervised, getting the wee ones all worked up before breakfast. Many of these foals are sick, Mister Sundance, and should not be getting excited before breakfast.”

“Show of hooves,” Sundance said to the foals around him while the nurse scowled. “Who’s excited?”

A dozen or so wide, innocent eyes were turned upon the nurse, along with protruding lower lips. Not a hoof was raised. An I.V. pole rattled when a filly pulled it closer and its wheels let out a faint squeak. The nurse, clearly immune to such displays, ignored the foals around her and remained focused upon Sundance.

“Look, I appreciate what you are trying to do, and you are a good pony for trying, but we really need to stick to the routine here. If you want somebody your own mental age to play with, perhaps you should adopt.”

“Ouch!” Sundance winced from the nurse’s deadpan rebuke but smiled when he heard more giggling from the foals around him.

“Earwax is awake and aware. The doctor wants the two of you to have breakfast together. Please, if you would, come with me.”

“Sorry kids, I have to go. All of you stay very calm, and have a nice breakfast, okay?”

With a wave of his wing, Sundance offered up his goodbyes and followed the nurse out of the room.





Sundance wasn’t sure what he expected when the door was opened, but what he found wasn’t what he expected. Earwax appeared confused, scared, and out of sorts. She sat in a bright blue plastic chair beside a shiny green plastic table, which had an untouched breakfast laid out upon it. The walls were covered in paintings, drawings with crayons, and pictures made with glue and glitter. When she saw him, her expression changed to one of utter bewilderment.

“Ya saved me.”

Unsure of how to reply, Sundance nodded and shrugged. “Just doing my job.” Then, almost as an afterthought he added, “Does it hurt?”

“I can’t tell.” Earwax lifted her left leg and rubbed the spot where her right front leg used to be, which was now bare and smooth. “It’s like I never had a leg at all. I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know what to make of anything. I don’t even know what it is I am sitting on.”

“It’s plastic,” Sundance said and for a second, he felt a pang of pity for Earwax—not because she was missing a limb, but because she had never known the wonders of the modern world. “About a hundred years ago or so, an earth pony chemist did something with cellulose from soybeans and treated it with nitric acid as a solvent. After a few other steps I can’t remember, she created synthetic ivory, or plastic. She wanted to stop the predation of elephants and manticores and creatures with tusks. Nitrocellulose as it was known, was also an explosive, and the world hasn’t been the same since. Eventually, this discovery lead to film for movies and pictures, as well as advanced munitions.”

“Yer smart.” Earwax blinked a few times, her ears rose and fell, and she continued to rub the blank spot where her leg used to be.

“You say that, but I almost didn’t graduate secondary school. My mother darn near twisted my ear off and made me study.” Moving forward, Sundance approached the table, pulled out the bright yellow plastic chair, and then sat down.

“Why’d ya save me?” Earwax asked while leaning forward, and her dull brown mane spilled down over her faded orange face.

“Because leaving you in the woods would cause my mother to actually twist my ear off, and I like my ears. Both of them. Right where they are. I’d rather like to keep them.” Looking Earwax in the eye, he pulled his tray loaded down with breakfast closer to him and made a gesture for her to do the same.

“I don’t get it.” Earwax shook her head. “I wasn’t worth saving and now, I’m not worth keeping around—”

“You don’t get to say that,” Sundance snapped, his emotion causing his voice to turn flinty. “I get to be the judge of that.”

“Sorry, Milord.” Earwax bowed her head. “What do ya wish of me?”

“I wish to take you home to your sister and then it is my sincere hope that maybe, just maybe, I can have a little bit of your trust.” Sundance looked down into his bowl of oatmeal filled with stewed fruit, sniffed, and then let out a sigh of contentment. “Let me get one thing straight… I am not like the last Milord. You are not just some peasant that labours away for my benefit. I want to be your friend—”

“Why’s that, Milord? What’s that do, ‘zactly?”

Taken aback by this question, Sundance stared at Earwax, and wasn’t sure how to reply.

“The last Milord was prolly my father, but that didn’t make no lick of difference. He didn’t show me no kindness and I wasn’t invited up to his tower for tea and cakes. He was as mean as the day was long. I was born to work, and he was born to rule. I don’t see what friendship has to do with anything.”

Frustrated, Sundance found that he couldn’t eat his oatmeal, even as hungry as he was. His stomach gurgled, then growled in protest of this ill-treatment, and he had to fight to contain his rising anger. After the harried flight through the storm and almost crashing in Canterlot, after all this risk, and this… this was all he got in return. Aggravated, he choked back a few angry words before they could escape and continued to stare at the still bewildered mare on the other side of the table.

“I think I done said something to upset you, Milord. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Sundance said, and he couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “I’m just angry. This whole situation stinks. And you… you… you just don’t understand. I’m frustrated by all of this and I don’t want to take it out on you, because you’ve suffered enough—you’ve had a lifetime of suffering and I feel just awful about that and I am so overwhelmed by everything because I want to make things better.”

Earwax shook her head from side to side, and her ears pinned back in the most submissive manner possible while she replied, “Why would my suffering mean anything? I’m a tool. A plow. Just a means to work the land. Ya don’t feel sorry for a rake when it busts, ya replace it—”

“NO!” Sundance bellowed while he slammed his hoof down upon the table, which made everything jump; plates, glasses, cups, trays, and poor Earwax, who almost fell right out of her chair. “I can’t listen to you talk about yourself like that!”

Ducking her head down, Earwax’s ears somehow managed to sag even more, leaving her looking both discombobulated and terrified. She said nothing, but sat hunched over in her plastic chair, and after a few seconds, she blinked away tears from her glassy eyes. The tears proved to be too much to hold back, and the glistening droplets of liquid clung to her long eyelashes, darkening them.

“Please, eat.” Sundance gestured at the food on the table, and felt even worse when Earwax began to do as he commanded, not because she was hungry, but because he had told her to do so. She was quaking with terror while tears ran down her cheeks and dripped into her bowl of oatmeal. “Look, I am gonna take you home to your sister, and everything is gonna be okay. The only thing I want from you is your trust and maybe just a little bit of help from you so the others will trust me. For now though, let’s just eat breakfast, because I don’t think I can make you understand me, but I really want you to understand me.”

With her muzzle tucked into her bowl of oatmeal, Earwax did not reply.
> Hello, nurse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something about the nurse caught Sundance’s eye. She was a bit older than he was, with an athlete’s physique; a broad, solid barrel and a wide, stocky stance. Beneath the supple skin of her neck, corded muscles rippled with her every movement, and in her expansive hindquarters, there was nothing at all that jiggled, only the solidity of a brick factory wall.

It was enough to cause Sundance to do a bit more looking than he realised.

Talking to mares was now more difficult since finishing school, because mares were mares and in school all he had to worry about were fillies—ponies who, at the time, had been his own age. Then there was the matter of sorting out his issue, something he hadn’t done a very good job of because he had placed priority on other things, such as his genealogy project. Topics of adult conversation eluded Sundance and he never quite knew what to say, a condition made worse when he felt some sense of attraction.

It was all nonsense, really, because he found that he could talk to Princess Celestia or Fleur Dis Lee just fine, but something about a mare his own age that caught his eye made everything so complicated. He liked bookish, smart fillies and mares, but he also liked the heavily muscled athletic types—and he liked them for very different reasons. With a brainy girl came the hopes that she might appreciate the hard work he had done on his special project—but with a rough and ready girl who had a strong, powerful build, there were an entirely different set of expectations at play.

Sundance, who kept his wings tucked against his sides so he wouldn’t cause a scene, made an effort to be chatty with the unicorn nurse that had caught his eye. He licked his lips, cleared his throat a bit, and did everything he could to sound polite while he spoke to the attractive nurse that had captured his attention.

“So, uh, is a day of therapy going to be enough to get Earwax sorted out?”

Right away, Sundance regretted what he had said, because he felt stupid for having said it, without knowing why. The sudden embarrassment that settled over him caused him to cringe a bit, and he was almost positive that he had said the wrong thing. Now, he wished that he had remained quiet, but it was too late: he had opened his mouth and revealed that he was a featherbrain.

The nurse looked up from the clipboard she was writing on, blinked once, and her face offered no hint of what she was feeling. “Unusual circumstances. Typically, therapy is far more intensive, but she is returning to a remote, isolated environment. So we’re covering the basics and seeing how she adapts to life on three legs. Most earth ponies do fine because they are physical creatures. Pegasus ponies who are fliers also tend to do well. Unicorns are the ones who tend to have the most trouble adjusting.”

“Oh.” Sundance felt himself tripping over his own tongue. “That’s kinda neat.”

No, no it wasn’t, a pony’s suffering was never neat, and he wished that he hadn’t said that.

“I always worry that what I have to say about stuff like that will get me tarred and feathered as a tribalist,” the nurse said while she held her inkpen aloft. “Science, facts, and medicine sometimes fly in the face of popular or accepted opinions. The simple truth of the matter is, each of us approaches life differently. Earth ponies expend physical effort to do everything because they have to. Pegasus ponies fly and prefer it over walking. Unicorns rely on their magic for as much as possible and just do not have the physical conditioning found in most earth ponies and pegasus ponies. Yet… nopony wants to talk about it, and that makes practicing medicine difficult.”

Frowning, the nurse put down her clipboard and pen upon the nearby counter, poured herself a cup of coffee from the distant coffee maker, and then poured a second cup for Sundance. Both cups were levitated across the room, through the nurses’ station, and she handed one cup to Sundance, who held it in his now healed wing. He was too polite to refuse the offered cup and so he resolved to drink it, even if it was bitter, black, lacking both cream and sugar.

The nurse had also demonstrated her point, fetching coffee from across the room without moving a muscle. Yet, she was clearly a physical creature, and her physique suggested that she enjoyed a great deal of movement. What a delightful mystery he had discovered. So focused was he on her delightful physique that he absentmindedly took a sip of his hot coffee—and knew at once that he needed to go to the burn ward with all due haste. Hot!

“I can’t help but notice that this hospital has a lot of sick foals,” Sundance said and even as the words were leaving his mouth, he found himself cringing again. “I mean, there is a healer… there is magic… how are there sick foals still? Shouldn’t magic fix that? I mean, it fixed me.”

“There are magic diseases,” the nurse replied, “and not every injury can be healed. Just look at Earwax’s missing leg.”

“Oh.” Sundance didn’t allow himself to say anything else, as he didn’t trust anything that might come out of his mouth.

“I attended nursing school after getting a scholarship through the guard. I joined at fourteen, like so many others, and gave a good seven years of my life. While I was still in the guard, I was sent north to the Crystal Empire for a bit of pre-med training… I think I was about sixteen or so. Had a moment that profoundly changed my life and my outlook.”

“What happened?” Sundance asked while he held his coffee.

“Princess Cadance.” The nurse sipped her coffee and then her lips peeled back away from her teeth while she sucked in cool air. With her eyes unfocused, distant, the nurse continued, “Princess Cadance told a story. And what a story it was… a number of my classmates quit pre-med and went on to other things. Even a nice colt with a mark for medicine. He went into pharmaceutical stuff and I guess he found some happiness… I don’t know.”

Sundance found himself intrigued. What sort of teacher told a story that made their students quit?

“Princess Cadance was in Canterlot attending a demonstration at the Canterlot Military Academy. It was time for the formation fliers to strut their stuff and make Princess Luna proud. I’ve been to one—a few actually—and they’re always a good time. ‘Cept this day, there was a mid-air collision. One of the cadets got confused and zigged when she should have zagged. Smashed her head open… we’re talking some major brain trauma, to hear how Princess Cadance tells it.”

To show that he was listening, Sundance nodded.

“So Princess Cadance goes to work, because she’s a healer, and she’s so busy doing that she never stops to think if she should. This mare’s skull is a mess of multiple compound skull fractures and she’s broken her neck. Somehow, Princess Cadance manages to put everything back together again, and she somehow even regenerated brain tissue. When she was done, everything was restored and all of the pieces fit. Physically, the mare is in excellent physical health.”

Filled with dread, Sundance waited for the nurse to continue.

“As it turns out, fixing damaged brain tissue doesn’t restore memories. It doesn’t restore self. Regrowing the brain cells didn’t restore the memories and experiences that they once held. Princess Cadance was crying while she told us this part of the story. The mare was basically a newborn. She had no memory of her family, her fiancé, she had no memory of who she was, or her name. None of her life experiences had survived. No knowledge of how to walk, no potty training, no language, there was nothing left. Princess Cadance had healed the injury and staved off inevitable death, but had still lost the patient.”

Sundance’s ears sagged and the one wing still tucked against his side went slack.

“Healing is a great resource to have,” the nurse said, her voice now low and gritty. “But you can’t save everypony. Sometimes, you gotta let go. It’s a hard lesson to learn. Sometimes, no matter what you do, you can’t heal what is broken. Not everything can be mended. The sooner you can accept that and move on, the better.”

With these words lingering in his ears, Sundance thought back to breakfast and Earwax’s response to his kindness. A dull ache manifested, but Sundance wasn’t sure if it was a physical ache, because he couldn’t tell where it was exactly. It hurt though, it hurt like nothing else and the sheer overwhelming enormity of it hit him like a broadside from a turbulent squall.

“I should let you get back to work,” Sundance muttered, and it took all of his effort to keep his pain out of his voice. “It was nice to talk to you. I think… I think I’m going to go for a walk, if that’s okay.”

Without waiting for a response, Sundance hurried away, his black coffee sloshing in his cup.





Canterlot Castle had once been a difficult place to enter and Sundance thought of all of the trouble he had gone through just to set hoof through the gate the first time. Now, he had been hustled through the gate by the guard and taken inside through a door that wasn’t the public entrance. Life had changed—for better or worse, Sundance could not say.

Why had he come? He wasn’t sure. Right now, he was hurting and lost. He was confused. Why was he doing this? Why had he been chosen? The small room he waited in was flooded with golden sunlight, which didn’t seem possible given the time of day, the angle of the Canterhorn, the walls, the structure of the castle—yet the warm glow of the sun washed over him to revive his flagging spirit. How was the sun streaming in through what Sundance was certain to be a northward facing window?

Like everything else in his life, it didn’t make sense.

He had become the guardian of a group of mental cripples, ponies he feared couldn’t be mended. The nurse’s words still rang in his ears—even more so now that he was alone and waiting. Princess Celestia had been his undoing; he had come to say hello and found himself conscripted. Why him? Surely there had to be somepony else. Cracks had formed under the pressure and now Sundance found unknown parts of himself buckling beneath the strain.

Why had Princess Celestia entrusted him with these ponies?

Trembling, Sundance allowed himself to sink into his chair, almost curling into a ball and coming to rest sideways, with his left side nestled against the high back. He had been told to wait, and so he waited. There was a painting of both princesses, Celestia and Luna, and so distraught was Sundance that he failed to notice that somepony had vandalised their portrait with mustaches.

Princess Celestia had a magnificent full-bodied commanding chevron, while Princess Luna sported a delicate petite handlebar. Had Sundance noticed, it might have been his undoing in his current state, but he was too far gone, too lost in his own thoughts, and was spared the sight of the mustachioed sisters gazing down upon him.

Standing on a shelf beneath the portrait was a priceless artifact, a small statuette of Princess Celestia who had quite a different, delicate body, as well as a magnificent rack of antlers. Beside this curious statuette was a letter in an ornate frame, and at the top of the letter, the words, ‘Deer Princess Celestia’ could be made out. It was obviously a foal’s letter, written in crayon with poorly written letters and some serious spelling mistakes. On the paper was a poorly written plea to come to school, and it was signed, ‘Twiglit Sparkel’ in broad, loopy strokes.

Had Sundance noticed, he might have laughed and felt better; after all, greatness had to start somewhere. For little ‘Twiglit Sparkel’ her greatness had begun at the tender age of about two, when she had decided that she wished to attend Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns. In fact, the whole of this special waiting room was meant to inspire, but so wrapped up was he in his own misery, Sundance failed to notice.
> Family reunion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again, Sundance found himself in the curious library-like study where he had met with Princess Celestia. Toys still littered the floor and Sundance was reminded of his previous thoughts of this place; it was a private room meant for family. Nuance looked up from where he was sitting, and the blanketed mass beside him wiggled. A lone guard stood in the corner, a unicorn wearing ornate armor. Sundance eyeballed him for a time and with a sigh, returned his attention to Nuance.

“You are in need of help,” Nuance said while making a gesture for Sundance to sit down. He himself sat in the chair covered in orange stains that his mother had sat in during the first meeting. “Prince Blueblood could not be here due to circumstances but I have been given a chance to prove myself.” With a turn of his head, Nuance nodded at the blanket beside him. “This is my brother, Steadfast. He’s having a rough day, but then again, he is always having a rough day.”

From beneath the blanket, there was a faint moan.

“Pleased to meet you, Steadfast.” Sundance took a seat and tried to peer into the folds of the blanket, but nothing could be seen. Whomever was buried beneath the blanket remained out of sight. “What is wrong with your brother, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Sundance’s question caused Nuance’s eyes to narrow and for a moment, anger could be seen on the colt’s face. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck drew tight, and his fine, slender ears stood at erect perfection. For a moment, Sundance feared that he might have made a mistake, but then Nuance’s anger seemed to melt away, like a cube of sugar dissolving into hot tea.

“My brother and I share a peculiarity of our parentage,” Nuance began, and Sundance marvelled at how grown up the colt sounded. “My mother, Celestia, tends to have weak unicorns. I am a weak unicorn, with very little magic and I am rather frail in body. Luna has weak earth ponies and in the long ago past, many of them did not live for very long. Steadfast has had to fight for every day of his existence. We’re very close, my brother and I.”

“But what’s wrong with him?” Sundance asked and he hoped that he wasn’t being too nosy.

“Everything,” Nuance replied while the blanketed heap beside him began to tremble.

Sundance didn’t know what to say and without realising it, his gaze came to rest upon the bright orange blanket covered with cheerful sun-emblems. The idea that alicorns could birth less than perfect foals shocked him to his very core; so much so that his own problems slipped from his mind. All of his troubles, all of his doubts, all of his worries, his concerns, and fears fled from him; all that was left was sympathy for the miserable foal wrapped in a blanket.

“For the longest time, I was quite hateful… I was spiteful because of how weak I was, and I caused a lot of problems. Sadly, I besmirched my own reputation and I became quite disliked. I was angry, you see. There was this belief, this idea that I was owed more, that I deserved more by virtue of who and what I was.” Nuance sighed, a sad sound, and he shook his head from side to side.

Though Sundance listened to every word spoken by Nuance, his eyes remained on the blanket.

“After Steadfast was born, I became unbearable because I couldn’t deal with the unfairness of it all. I am ashamed to admit that I hated him for a time, because of what he represented, and I became a truly monstrous little prat. The trouble I caused became so much of an issue that my mother, Celestia, sent me away for Steadfast’s wellbeing, and I stayed in the Crystal Empire for a time.”

The blanket rose and fell as the foal within let out a forlorn sigh.

“What made you change?” Sundance asked.

“Dim’s cruel tutelage…” Nuance’s words trailed off and he seemed to shrink in his chair. “It felt as though everypony had given up on me. Even Twilight wanted nothing to do with me and I continued to act out. I wore out Sunburst’s patience with me and he said he was done with me. But Dim’s cruelty… was tireless.” The colt shivered, blinked a few times, and a fleeting fear could be seen in his eyes.

“Surely you must have done something right to be here with your brother now.” Sundance’s eyes now focused on Nuance’s and he wondered how much of the colt’s words might be hyperbole. Surely Celestia wouldn’t allow somepony to be ruthlessly cruel to her own son. Perhaps this cruel tutelage was… exaggerated just a smidgen.

“Dim, with Blueblood’s help, sorted me out. Blueblood in particular helped me to see that power was within my reach… and that is what I craved, power. I guess because I felt so powerless for so long. I learned that I could change lives with a stroke of a pen and that I could steer social policy to make things better. It was Blueblood that got it through my head that there were a lot of ponies that felt powerless and they were all just as miserable as I was… and Dim… Dim helped me to understand that I could achieve my dreams of knighthood, even though I was thoroughly ill-suited to be a wizard or a warrior. I just had to apply myself to a different way of fighting.”

“I see.” Sundance offered up a nod to show that he was listening.

“Which is why I am assigned to help you, Sundance. I guess you could say that you’ve become my school project. I was given the opportunity of a lifetime to prove myself and show myself capable. So here I am, and here you are, and together, we have a mess to fix. Neither one of us can afford to mess up, so it is in our best interests to help one another… and be friends.”

“I’m cold,” a whiny voice mewled from within the blankets.

“You could sit with me, if you’d like.” Sundance heard a clunk from the guard and now had a keen awareness that he was being stared at. “Or maybe not. Look, I don’t know the rules, I’m sorry.”

“Help move my brother,” Nuance commanded of the guard and Sundance witnessed a silent contest of wills. “Mother said that he was to be treated as family and that he is to be given trust. Now, if you please, do as I say. Do as you are told!”

Offering no response, the guard moved, his armor clanking, and his heavy hooves rang against the stone tile floor. Steadfast was lifted—with exquisite care of course—and Sundance shuffled over in his chair to make room. He changed positions, going from upright to a more relaxed pony-loaf, and extended his wing while nodding at the guard.

The precious bundle was placed beside him and Sundance was terrified by the whole situation. Even scarier, the blanketed bundle was almost weightless, little more than dandelion fluff, and he could feel what felt like a shivering, quivering bundle of sticks beneath the thick fabric trembling against him. With great care, he lowered his wing and covered the precious foal that shivered against his side while the guard backed away.

“My brother is very dear to me.” Nuance’s words were strained and his nostrils flared as if he was trying to hide a sniffle. “I have since come to appreciate his frailty. He and I live in a house of gods and giants. We are surrounded by the very pinnacles of perfection. Nopony… not my parents, not my relatives, not a one of them truly understands what it means to be us—but we understand one another, don’t we Steadfast?”

From within the blanket beneath Sundance’s wing came a faint, whispered reply: “Yep.”

“Enough pleasantries,” Nuance stated and there was a genuine sense of command in his thin, squeaky voice. “Let us begin our great work.”





Try as he might, Sundance could not shake his guilty feeling. He had just poured his heart out to Nuance about the living conditions—the sheer awfulness of the stone cottages with the sod roofs. While his peasants had no doubt lived this way for a long time—a fact that pained Sundance a great deal—he knew that his own resolve was rather weak and that he would break sooner or later under these conditions. It was painful and shameful admitting such weakness to a foal—humbling even—especially with how frail and weak the two foals in his company were.

Nuance was calm now, composed, thoughtful, and sat in silence. No judgment had been cast from him, no sneering, no contempt; if anything, Nuance understood and there was something that was almost reassuring about this for Sundance. Looking thoughtful, Nuance began to tap his inkpen against his fuzzy chin while his horn fizzled and sparked, a sign that his magic was struggling to continue to function.

“I feel so bad even bringing this up,” Sundance confessed in a low whisper. “Is fixing this even the right thing to do? If I live in a nice house while everypony else lives in those dreadful stone cottages, will that make me look like I’m better than them? How do I fix this without looking like a heel? It almost feels like I should suffer alongside them, but I am nowhere near strong enough to do so for long. That one night in that horrible cottage was the most miserable night in my life.”

“Hmm…” Nuance stretched his utterance into one long hum.

“Look, I want to be a good pony, and I want to do the work your mother believes that I can do, but I am a big soft wuss from the urban interiour of Baltimare. Nature doesn’t exist there, because it was paved over with concrete and covered with a high rise tenement tower. As awful as it is being poor, it’s nothing compared to the living conditions in the Sunfire Barony. If I was to go home right now, I’d never complain about the radiator not working ever again. I’d be happy to have a roof over my head and a nice, warm, dry bedroom that wasn’t filled with choking smoke.”

Sundance lapsed into silence and his sensitive ears listened to the wheezing whistling sound that could be heard from within the blanket, a sound that seemed far worse than asthma and was more like a laboured death rattle. Asthma was a rising concern in Baltimare, as was black lung from coal dust, and respiratory issues were starting to become worrisomely common.

“My father,” Nuance began while his pen continued tapping against his squarish chin, “founded the Royal Guard Corps of Gringineers—”

Unable to stop himself, Sundance burst out laughing and then snorting when he tried to hold it in.

Rolling his eyes, Nuance shook his head in disapproval while waiting for Sundance's laughter to subside. “Look, my father started his own branch of the Royal Guard to wage war on poverty and to bring happiness to the common pony. What have you done with your life?”

“Sorry.” Sundance swallowed his laughter and made himself think serious thoughts.

“The Corps of Gringineers just had a fresh batch of recruits earlier this spring… green recruits in need of training. I am positive that I can get my father to send them to your barony to construct some simple housing as a training exercise. You see, this is what they do. They ferret out and attack the causes of poverty at the source, when and where they can. Ponies feel that the Crown is doing something, so this restores faith in governance. My master, Blueblood, says this is why Equestria is on a nationwide upswing and the reason why confidence in the Crown is soaring.”

Sundance—still serious—nodded. He knew of Prince Gosling’s division of the guard, but by a different name: the CoG. He knew the symbol as well, a toothed gear with a rubber duck in the middle. The CoG had come to Baltimare to build a few vertical farms and community gardens; it wasn’t much, but it was a start, and ponies started to take a bit of pride in their neighborhoods again. Sundance’s mother said it was the sort of act that could save a city; give ponies the hope they needed and then trust that they do the hard work required to save themselves.

“My father is brilliant and clever in that he recruited an army of pacifists to fight a war.” Nuance shifted in his seat, leaned over against the stained arm of the chair, and kicked out his hind legs to be more comfortable. “I used to dislike my father”—Nuance confessed this in a low whisper—“but now that I’ve grown older I appreciate what he does. He always acted so silly and it infuriated me because I was so miserable. He makes ponies happy and I didn’t want to be happy. Now, I want to make him happy.”

“My father makes light bulbs.” Sundance felt awkward even mentioning it, but he continued in spite of his own reservations. “He sits on a wooden stool and every eight seconds, he pulls a lever down. This stamps a flat piece of metal and puts a dimple in it. There is a little contact spot on the bottom of a light bulb that allows electricity to flow though. My father makes those. All of his strength goes into pulling a lever that shapes metal. That’s been his life.”

Nuance appeared flabbergasted, but said nothing.

“It used to be six seconds…” Sundance realised how lucky he was that he didn’t work in a factory and he felt his muscles go tense. “The union he pays part of his paycheck to demanded two additional seconds so that workers could catch their breath in between pressings and not be so strained. Still, my father’s shoulder is going out and he’s in a lot of pain at the end of an eight hour shift, even if he doesn’t say anything.”

“What happens when his job is automated?” Nuance’s voice was nasal and he sounded congested.

Sundance shrugged.

“That’s what my father is trying to do.” Nuance sounded more foalish than ever and now even looked the part. “He is working very hard to secure some kind of future for everypony. The Mister Mariner incident left my father in a constant state of worry. Equestria is mechanising.” The colt cleared his throat, coughed once, sniffled, and clutched his ink pen in his fetlock. “I shall tell you a secret, Sundance… the motivations of my parents.”

“And those are?” While Sundance spoke, he heard the nearby guard shuffle.

“Twilight and my parents are reviving the old fiefdoms and are trying to strike a balance with neo-feudalism. Factory workers are already being displaced. Many of the working poor find themselves with no job, no place to live, and they are leaving the cities. They are returning to live on the land once more, and my parents are scrambling to make sure that the needs of their subjects are met. Adequate housing, food, and an acceptable standard of living. That’s what this is all about… and this is what I am now working to accomplish. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I am trying to help assist this transition. I know for a fact that my mother wants to begin transferring some of the displaced to your demesne, but only after you’ve found your way.”

Upon hearing this, Sundance’s jaw fell open and he sat there, gaping at Nuance.

In the corner, the guard grunted and then scowled.

“All of the Royal Family knows the scope and the scale of the crisis that is coming,” Nuance said, ignoring the guard’s nonverbal protests. “It is why my mother picked you… she’s desperate—”

The guard gave his throat a good, hearty clearing and Nuance scowled while asking, “Do you need a throat lozenge?” When the guard quieted, Nuance’s scowl became a sullen frown. “My mother is desperate,” the colt continued, still irked at the guard. “I’ve seen her cry about it. She’s panicked. That’s why there’s been all of the emergency social reforms and the rapid changes in the laws. We are in crisis mode. She chose you because you’re like my father. He too, came from the inner-city, and he understands what poverty is like. I think that my mother hopes that you’ll be like him. Life hasn’t beaten you down and made you believe that you can’t do something, and my mother hopes that you’ll be willing to try anything.”

The assisted epiphany struck Sundance like a bolt of lightning and took his breath away. Nuance had just revealed Princess Celestia’s motives and for whatever reason, Sundance understood them. He was just young enough to be idealistic and believe that almost anything was possible, though his youthful enthusiasm had been fading a bit as of late. He was starting to settle in to a career and life as an adult. Thought had been given to moving out, though he and his mother remained amicable roommates with one another because the rent was abominable.

With a gentle, tender squeeze of his wing, Sundance hugged the precious bundle beside him and searched his mind for something to say, something worthwhile. Nothing came to mind. He saw the necessity now and had some inkling of the gravity of the situation. This wasn’t about saving his demesne, or saving his peasants, this was about securing the future, and with this understanding now in place, his treatment of Earwax seemed all the more important. During this transition, the self-worth of many would be injured and many would be asking what value they had.

The door opened and two fillies entered; one Sundance recognised, Hailstone, and the other was a stranger. The bigger of the two fillies was as dark as a stormcloud, was a bit heavyset, and wore thick glasses. Nuance did not seem happy to see them, and his pale face darkened.

“I am doing my schoolwork!”

The bigger of the two pegasus fillies lept up into the orange-stained chair, shoved Nuance over to make room for her ample hindquarters, and then planted an affectionate noisy smooch upon his cheek. Nuance pulled away, quivering, his ears rising and falling with each trembling breath he took.

“Corbie, I am working.”

“We just finished our tutoring and we thought we’d come to help.” The bespectacled charcoal black pegasus filly turned her cheerful, exuberant self upon Sundance and introduced herself. “Hiyas, I’m Corbie, Nuance’s big bossy sister.”

Hailstone meanwhile was climbing into Sundance’s chair with great care, mindful of her sibling. She opened the blanket up for a moment, and there was a mewling cry of protest. For the first time, Sundance had himself a look at Steadfast, and saw a stick-thin foal of navy blue, charcoal black, and shimmering silver. Steadfast was striking, speckled, and shivering. Hailstone pulled him close, ignoring his protests, wrapped her tiny wings around him, and then pulled the blanket around herself and her brother, which quieted him.

“I’m Sundance—”

“Oh, I know,” Corbie said while she squeezed Nuance hard enough to make his eyes bulge in their sockets. “Mother talked about you during supper.”

“Oh.” Taken aback, Sundance lapsed into silence while Corbie mauled her brother. He was a topic of conversation around the supper table? It was more disconcerting than flattering and Sundance found himself overwhelmed.

“Equinal space!” Nuance cried while trying to free himself from the vice-like embrace of his sister.

Corbie rubbed her cheek against her brother’s and replied, “You shared a womb with me! Special womb snuggles!” With this, the chubby pegasus filly threw everything she had into the snuggle-struggle taking place with her brother.

“Ugh!” Nuance kicked and wiggled, but to no avail.

After a few more squeezes, Corbie eased up, but she didn’t let go and continued to cuddle her brother, showering him with warm, genuine affection. Nuance, sullen, could do nothing and made a series of impatient grunts, trying to express his desire to return to work. For whatever reason, Sundance missed his mother and grandmother, pegasus ponies who had no concept of equinal space. So great was his sense of separation that his eyes turned glassy and his vision blurred over.

There was a tug on his mane and then Hailstone, with a fetlock full of mane asked, “Are you gonna cry?”

“No!” Embarrassed, Sundance blinked a few times until his vision cleared and then tried not to think about how much he missed his family.

“Liar.” Hailstone peered up from her blanket cocoon with wide, accusing eyes.

“Look, if I fail my schoolwork, they’ll send me back to Dim—”

“NO!” Corbie shrieked and her sudden panicked grip on Nuance caused his spine to crackle in a most alarming way. “Dim makes my skin shiver! He’s mean!”

“Schoolwork!” Nuance moaned, struggling to get the word out while his ribs were slowly being crushed into jelly by his sister.

“When nightmares have bad dreams, they dream of Dim!” Corbie, her spectacles askew, let go of her brother, seized him once more, squeezed him a final time for good measure, and then let go once again. With a shiver, she gave him the space he needed, but remained in the chair with him.

“Staying in the Crystal Empire isn’t so bad,” Nuance muttered while he reached out and patted his sister on the foreleg. “Quiet always sorts me out.” Then, as a precaution, Nuance held his hoof in front of his sister’s mouth. “No teasing! Off limits! Schoolwork!”

Corbie, who had sucked in a huge breath to say something, deflated and remained silent. Sundance, who missed his family, had endured a hard morning, and had been called a liar by Hailstone, laughed. It was easy to laugh and to feel better around this bunch, even if Steadfast left him feeling a little sad.

Whatever humour Nuance had vanished and was replaced by a shrewd look. “I can get my father’s gringineers to build some houses for you. We’ll call it a training exercise and we’ll build a half-a-dozen or more. You can say that you are planning for the future and you claim one of the new dwellings. Perhaps you can convince the peasant pony who just lost her leg to move into one as well. Say it is for the sake of her health or comfort or whatever it is that you need to say to make it happen. Such an act of kindness will surely endear your peasants to you.”

“Um, I think that Sundance has serfs, not peasants,” Corbie remarked.

“Corbie…”

“Peasants own stuff, or can. Serfs have absolutely nothing. They are labourers—”

“Corbie, we don’t say serfs. Many feel it is derogatory and instills a feeling of hopelessness.” Nuance concentrated for a moment and used his magic to straighten out his sister’s eyeglasses. “Peasants can own houses and things. It is a kinder, gentler word, and it is the prefered nomenclature under the new neo-feudalism guidelines.”

“You’ve been studying,” Corbie said whilst she patted his cheek. “See, this is what I mean. If you apply yourself, you’re smart. You just have to work harder, that’s all. I know how unfair it is because Radiance doesn’t have to study at all, and he knows everything.”

Both siblings, Nuance and Corbie, sighed together.

“See, Nuance, it is just like I told you. Hard work pays off. Listen to how smart you sound.” The affectionate pegasus filly leaned in closer to her brother, elbowed him, and continued, “I know how hard you work, little brother. You have to spend hours studying before something sticks in your head, but you’ve been working, and it shows. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

In response, Nuance turned a vibrant shade of purple and then stared up at the ceiling as even his ears began to change colours. It spread down his neck, his chest, and through his barrel, and for a time, it seemed as though the colt had become the chameleon of profound embarrassment. Beside Sundance, Hailstone began to giggle, and Steadfast let out a weary, sleepy sounding grunt while his sister’s mirth shook him.

Just as Nuance was about to say something, the door opened again and a gleaming white earth pony colt entered the room…
> Truce
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small library-study flooded with tension. Hailstone shrank down into her blanket cocoon, her eyes narrowed, and her lips parted just enough that her teeth were bared. Nuance’s face went neutral, but something about his eyes suggested some strong emotion. Corbie glomped her brother once more, almost smothering him, and whatever cheerfulness she had departed. Even the guard reacted, becoming extra stiff and rigid.

“Get out,” Corbie commanded, and there was no warmth in her voice, only cold confidence. “Don’t make me thrash you again, Radiance.”

The gleaming white colt struck a regal pose and turned his haughty, somewhat angry gaze upon the pegasus filly protecting Nuance. “You only won because you cheated. Lifting me up into the air and dropping me on my head was dirty pool, sister. You gave me a concussion—”

“You’re a critical hippopotamus!” Corbie’s nostrils flared wide. “You said it many times that a good soldier uses any means available and I used my means to kick your sorry plot. Now get out!”

“Did you just call me a hypocrite?”

Corbie hesitated, her wings twitched, and for a moment, Sundance was certain there was about to be violence. He thought about intervening, but wasn’t sure how the guard might feel about sudden movements during a time like this. Hailstone whimpered and Corbie began to growl, a terrific terror-inducing sound that made all of the hairs on Sundance’s neck stand up. The sweet, chubby pegasus filly apparently had a mean streak, a side of her that he would not have believed existed just a few minutes ago.

“Truce.” Radiance lifted his hoof up and his ears struck a somewhat submissive angle. “I came to help. In times of family crisis, we put our differences aside and work together, remember?”

“You are a family crisis,” Hailstone murmured while she took shelter against Sundance’s side.

“Let’s hear him out.” Nuance’s phlegmatic voice held a surprising depth of fear, but was still somehow insistent, commanding. “Why are you here, brother?” Nuance stroked Corbie’s neck, an affectionate gesture, and then leaned forward to listen to his brother’s response.

“I am here to establish good relations with one of my mother’s vassals, same as you.” Radiance bowed his head, and even in his submissive pose he somehow remained haughty. The colt—enormous for his age—sighed, shook his head, and let out an annoyed snort. “Father had a long talk with me. A very stern talk and he helped me to understand a few things. Nuance, I know what you are doing here. I know what you’ve been tasked with. You’re being groomed to look after Father’s legacy… and I…”—here, Radiance drew in a deep breath and appeared almost disgusted—“I respect that a great deal. You’re becoming a soldier… in your own way, I suppose, and you’ve taken up a noble cause. I do respect that, brother, and I will not impede your efforts.”

“We both want the same thing, brother.” Nuance wiggled free from his sister’s protective embrace. “Mother even said so. But we have a different way of going about it. Father’s legacy means a lot… to both of us. We’ve both given our lives over to it.”

“Yes…” Radiance drew out his response into a lengthy hiss. “I expect to fight and bleed for it, if necessary, and I expect that you will fight and burn the midnight oil with your fretting. Now, can we get some work done?”

“Rad, that might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Nuance remarked and his voice was soft, lacking any kind of snide sarcasm or hidden bile.

“Look, don’t get sentimental and soft.” Radiance’s ears splayed straight out from the sides of his head while he regarded his sibling. “Father made me understand that I was working against my own goals and I saw the foolishness in it. One day, I’ll be an officer, and you, you’ll be a bureaucrat, and it takes both of us working in unison to advance our cause. So again, I say, truce. Father demanded that I use this opportunity with Sundance to learn how to work together. He pulled rank on me.”

“Truce.” Pushing his reluctant sister aside, Nuance extended his hoof towards his brother.

There was a clank of metallic armor from the guard when Radiance moved forward, stepping over a few stuffed animals scattered about the floor. Sundance swallowed, his mouth dry, and his ears were cramping from standing so erect. Corbie had not dropped her guard—she still bristled with every sign of pegasus aggression available—and Sundance had some vague understanding that he was witnessing some long-running family conflict play out.

When the two brothers bumped hooves, Sundance discovered that he could breathe again—he hadn’t even realised that he had been holding his breath. For a second, Radiance seemed less haughty, but as he backed away, his expression of smug superiourity returned in force. Radiance retreated a bit more, sat down upon the floor, and then, like the sun parting the blackest of storm clouds, he smiled.

It was breathtaking.

“What did you have in mind, Radiance?” Nuance began the task of trying to pry his sibling off of him and it took a great deal of reassurance before she began to ease up her protective grip.

“The cadets are in need of a place to bivouac.” Radiance, still smiling, turned his resplendent gaze upon Sundance, who was dazzled by the sheer brilliance of it. “The Canterlot Military Academy and the Guardian’s Guild are in need of land for a cadets’ retreat. We had a spot in the White Tail Woods, but that old agreement was allowed to expire as the local lord wished to redevelop the land to do something else. I approached Princess Twilight about it, but she said no, because she is not keen on soldiers hanging about Ponyville, and I respect that.”

Sundance realised that he had vast, empty spaces of land; he was rich with emptiness.

“The southern reaches of your demesne expand into the Everfree.” Radiance’s smile vanished and was replaced by something hard, something flinty. “The northern Everfree is a truly dangerous section of the wilds. The cadets could use a bit of danger… real danger, mind you. Adding a real threat to our training would be invaluable and having a camp would help to protect your southern border. The cadets’ club is willing to pay rent… one thousand gold bits a month, and we shall pay it directly to you, and not to your demesne account where the banks will have their way with it—”

“Wait, is that allowed?” Sundance’s ears angled over his eyes in alarm.

“Oh, it is allowed,” Radiance replied and his eyes narrowed in a shrewd manner. “Though it is questionable. A bad lord might do something immoral by exploiting this, but a good lord would use this… shall we call it a loophole? Yes, a good lord would take advantage of this loophole to benefit his barony. He could account for every gold bit, every expenditure, and keep away any worried suspicions of a certain nosy white alicorn who might worry that something was amiss.”

“This could work.” Nuance leaned forwards, his head bobbing up and down, and there was an excited gleam in his eye. “I hadn’t thought of you holding a personal account. You are legally two entities, Sundance. You are Sundance, the pony, and Lord Sundance Sunfire, of the Sunfire Barony. You still hold certain legal rights as an individual. You are an I and a We.”

“The last lord abused this to no end,” Radiance said, picking up where his brother left off. “He drained the barony accounts and secured loans under the barony name, while keeping everything in his own private accounts. Mother might be quite alarmed if you did this, which is why you would need to exercise some extraordinary bookkeeping to stay her righteous wrath.”

“I see.” Sundance began to muse on this idea, his eyes darting from one colt to another. “I don’t want soldiers harassing my peasants, scaring my chickens, or chasing my goats. If Princess Twilight didn’t want soldiers in Ponyville, there must’ve been a reason.”

“Ponyville is too densely packed within its borders.” Radiance cleared his throat, grinned a sheepish grin, and offered up a dismissive wave with his hoof. “You would never see us. There would be well over a hundred miles between the central seat of your barony and the location of our camp.”

Sundance was tempted and the sight of the two brothers staring intently at him left behind a peculiar pressure. By agreeing, he could help the two brothers get along, and they would continue working on a common goal. There seemed to be some trouble between them—a great deal of trouble between them—so offering them some common ground might be beneficial in all sorts of ways. His peasants might just reap the rewards of his actions.

Hailstone yawned and this set off a chain of yawns that spread around the room. Steadfast was next and his yawn was a wheezing squeak. Corbie fell prey to the dreaded contagion next, and Nuance squirmed away when his sister’s tongue almost touched the side of his face. Then Nuance covered his mouth with his hoof, turned his head off to one side, and yawned. When Sundance found himself yawning, he wondered how and why Radiance seemed to be immune.

The guard too, somehow resisted.

“I suppose you’ll be arriving by train?” Sundance asked after he had recovered.

Radiance snapped to attention, nodded, and replied, “I had considered that. There is rail access to the area. It was a factor in my determinations.”

“The railway depot is dilapidated and falling apart.” The memory of it was still fresh in Sundance’s mind, and was quite vivid. “Build me a better railway depot and we’ll both benefit. Something military grade. The current depot is more of a stop, and the wood it is made from is all rotten. If you got off the train and tried to unload supplies there, I think you’d have problems, especially if it was raining.”

“That can be done.” Radiance smiled again, a dazzling sight, and he seemed to fill the room with sunshine.

It didn’t fix his biggest issue, and that was getting goods to the depot, but it was a start. Sundance had no idea how he was going to transfer goods overland, but he felt as though some progress was being made. His sense of hopelessness from earlier was fading now, replaced by a sense of accomplishment. A bit of money, a new depot, some new housing, yes, today was a day of achievement.

“For the movement of goods…” Radiance’s words trailed off and the colt began to nibble on his upper lip whilst tapping his hoof against the floor. “It occurs to me that you have a three-legged peasant that needs to be transported and you have no means to move goods back and forth, other than perhaps yourself. The ability to move supplies is paramount.”

“I agree.” Nuance nodded his head while glancing at his brother. “Do you have any ideas, Rad?”

“I do, actually.” Radiance paused again, chewed on his upper lip once more, and scratched his left front leg with right front hoof. This continued for a time, until the colt’s ears stood erect in an excited-but-not-haughty manner. “I am going to requisition a standard-issue cart, I think. They’re not fancy, but they are super light, durable, and capable of hauling two ponies in full armor or one standard-issue crate of rations and supplies.” Reaching up behind himself, Radiance began to rub the back of his neck. “Can you haul a cart? Do you have a license?”

“I can,” Sundance replied, “and I do. When I was hired to be a medical courier, it was a requirement. Most of my jobs were rooftop access only, so a cart or a wagon wasn’t practical, but I know what I’m doing.”

“I pulled Hailstone in a toy cart and we crashed into a chandelier.” Corbie turned away from everypony in the room, let out a sigh, and shook her head. “Daddy was lectured because Mama Luna said that this would happen but he still got the cart for me anyway ‘cause he didn’t care what Mama Luna had said and we were both in trouble together ‘cause pegasuses of a feather flock together. Mama Blue was mad.”

“I got a bump on my head and I saw a flock of alicorns.” Hailstone squirmed a bit, smiled, and her ears rose and fell while her cheeks bulged from her grin. “Daddy’s seen them too.”

“I saw them as well,” Radiance remarked, “right after Corbie dropped me on my head. You were right, Hailstone, they do exist.”

“HAH! I told you so, poo-poo head!” Hailstone hooted in triumph, and this startled Steadfast, who coughed. “I told you so! I told you so!”

Sighing, Radiance nodded. “You were right and I was wrong.”

“Hush, you featherbrains, Steady is trying to say something.” Hailstone parted the blankets a little, ducked her head down, and Steadfast’s ears became somewhat visible.

“Lunch,” the frail colt said in a wispy voice.

“We should totally eat some lunch.” Hailstone’s eyes brightened. “Ayuh! You too,” she said to Sundance. Then, the filly’s head rotated in an owlish manner and her eyes narrowed when she looked at Radiance. Her cheeks bulged even more, her ears formed an aggressive ‘V’ while her eyes narrowed, and she puffed out, increasing her size in the magical, floofy way of pegasus ponies everywhere. “You too, but you’d better be nice, poo-poo head.”

“The truce holds.” Radiance sighed these words and there was something that was almost a smirk on his face.

It seemed as though it was time for lunch…
> Cross my tarts and hope to die
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What have you done to my beloved bevy of brats?”

Sundance, who had just emerged from the restroom, froze in place at the sound of the commanding voice, and his body took on a sudden leaden feeling that made him feel far too heavy to do much of anything, things useful to his survival, like running. His eyes moved, but his head did not, and Sundance glanced over at Princess Celestia, who loomed large in the corner of his vision.

“You do not wish to talk, is that it? Fine… it will be the cream cheese tarts for you!”

Sundance swallowed, and swallowed again, but the lump remained in his throat. “Cream cheese tarts?”

“Years of your life, gone in an eyeblink,” Princess Celestia replied in a voice that seemed far too excited, far too eager for mayhem of some sort. “Now… tell me, distant grandson of mine, what have you done with my pack of precious, pernicious, precocious punks?”

Sundance’s brain broke and the entity responsible for keeping the lights on inside of his noggin checked out, perhaps deciding that it was time for a much-needed vacation. Suddenly, he was a foal again, and Officer Mom was lecturing him about the dangers of hooliganism. Only this time, Officer Mom was a giant, a behemoth, and the way she spoke of cream cheese tarts chilled his blood.

“My brood are exceptional at putting on quite a show,” Princess Celestia said, her lips moving mere inches from Sundance’s flicking, twitching ear. “Though Nuance is sincere, I do believe. Tell me, did Radiance do that smile thing? He has a way of disarming a pony with a smile. The colt has some of his father’s magic, but he uses it in all of the wrong ways. Radiance is going to make for a magnificent soldier, but a truly terrible pony. Sometimes, those two things cannot reconcile.” The giantess of a mare let out a sigh, which blew Sundance’s ears about in a gale, and she shifted her weight from one side to the other.

Sundance, who had just finished lunch and had come out of the restroom, was not prepared for this cheerful, sunny assault, but then again, who would be? She had just called her own offspring punks—punks!—and she had threatened him with cream cheese tarts. Though he couldn’t bring himself to say it, his great, great grandmother… she was a silly pony.

“I love my foals…” Princess Celestia sighed again, whipping Sundance’s mane into a frenzy, and began to shake her head. “But they are brats! Can you believe that? I made those! Well, Luna made a few, and her brats are worse, trust me. But I can have less than perfect offspring. What does that say about you, I wonder, distant grandson of mine?”

“Uh…”

“Oh come on!” The big mare moved even closer, uncomfortably close. “Don’t be a simpleton. I know what sort of troublemaker you are… what sort of braindead oaf tries to fly into Canterlot when there is a major storm blowing about? Nopony is that stupid! The ponies of Canterlot make jokes about it and it is used as a yardstick for stupidity, because nopony is that dumb. It has become a colloquialism in the local dialect.”

“Um…”

“But then you came along and pulled your little stunt right after the newspapers had a field day blabbing about you being my distant descendant, and lo and behold, that yardstick of stupidity found an actual, corporeal, physical measurement and it stands about this high.” Extending her wing, Princess Celestia held it about an inch over Sundance’s head, and he felt his cheeks burning. “It was mortifying!”

“Er…”

“I have this problem in my pegasus offspring… they’re brave and stupidly so. Over the centuries, I’ve watched this play out time and time again. Oh, sure, my little pegasus ponies tend to be average in just about every way conceivable and most become productive members of society. But, you put them in a pinch and goodness gracious, sakes alive!” The big mare bared her teeth and gritted them together.

“Is it that bad?” Sundance asked, now worried about himself.

“You’d think that the genes for this kind of stupidity would have self-destructed by now, but they prove to be remarkable breeders too.” The princess lifted her head, straightening out her posture, and then turned her head to look at a painting on the wall. “Corbie shows all of the worrying signs, Sundance. She’s an average pegasus filly in just about every way that you could imagine… but then she has these moments… these dreadful moments of braindead stupidity. I like to say that she gets it from her father, but over the centuries I have collected the evidence that suggests otherwise. If she ever tries to fly into Canterlot when there’s a major storm, I’ll have to disown her if I am to keep any sort of worthwhile reputation.”

“Look, I didn’t know any better—”

Sundance was cut off by Princess Celestia’s burning, piercing gaze, and her eyes burned like the fresh rays of dawn. It was almost blinding, and he squirmed beneath her soul-searching stare. He took a step backwards, but his rump bumped into the restroom door and his retreat was cut off.

“I am proud of you for what you’ve done.” The princess’ words were every bit as fierce as her eyes. “The number of ponies that could even approach Canterlot under those conditions, I can count them on my primaries and still have feathers left over. Were you not already occupied with a far more important task, I would be pressuring you to join the guard. You did right by Earwax, which has impressed me. You were kind, considerate, and patient with my foals. You even showed exceptional generousity with Steadfast, for which I am eternally grateful.”

“It was nothing—”

“IT WAS SOMETHING.” Princess Celestia’s voice was a thunderclap in the narrow hallway and Sundance reeled back from the concussive force of her voice. “Look, you have no idea what Luna, Gosling, and I have gone through with Steadfast. Luna had to relax the very bonds of gravity around him for over a year so that his weak heart could keep beating. We’ve battled asthma and anemia. My sister… she has lost so many and I believe it has had a detrimental effect upon her. Marriage and motherhood are so much more terrifying when you know the sort of loss she does, to be as bereaved as she has been.”

Sundance sagged where he stood.

“So your kindness and your generousity, they mean a great deal, and shall not be forgotten. I have taken enough of your time, distant grandson of mine. I’ve slipped outside of my schedule to speak with you, and I must return to my duties so that Raven does not have conniption fits.”

While Princess Celestia folded her wings against her sides, Sundance watched with reverent awe.

The mare sounded hesitant when she next spoke. “If I might ask a favour…”

“Of course.” Sundance bowed his head and waited for his grandmother’s request.

“I am asking you as a mother, mind you, and not as your princess.” The big mare cleared her throat and when she spoke again, her voice had undergone a profound transformation. “I can’t make you do this, but I do ask that you try to be Nuance’s friend. He can be a trying individual and he is quick to wear down patience. Nuance has a mentor, in the form of Blueblood, he has a source of terror in his life that motivates him in the form of Dim, and he has a little brother that seems to be awakening his slumbering greatness. What he needs”—here, Princess Celestia paused and her eyes narrowed, thoughtful—“is a big brother that he can relate to. Nuance is taken with you and his project. I’ve never seen him quite so animated or attentive about… well, anything, really. Nuance has trouble paying attention and Cadance believes it to be some kind of condition. She insists that it isn’t because he’s a brat or intellectually lazy.”

The regal white alicorn drew in a deep breath, and then she continued, “And after much wasted effort in trying to correct his behaviour, I am inclined to believe her. Engaging Nuance is difficult at best and for him to be so captivated by this project… as his mother, I want for him to have some success. I want him to feel good about himself. Nuance needs his time in the sun… and I know that it is a lot to ask of you, but little Nuance needs to find some way to shine, some way that is different than his brother. Radiance so overshadows Nuance in every conceivable way, and you have to trust me when I say this, as a pony, I know what happens when one sibling overshadows another. So I am begging you for a favour.”

Lifting his head, Sundance replied, “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, Sundance. You will be spared the cream cheese tarts… for now.”

Before Sundance could respond, Princess Celestia vanished in a flash of golden sunlight, leaving him all alone with his myriad of thoughts. Briefly, he wondered what might happen if he tried to tell others that Princess Celestia was a silly pony, and reached the conclusion that it didn’t matter if anypony believed him; what mattered was her trust. She was showing him extraordinary levels of trust and his inner pegasus checked in to remind him that while kindness and generousity were fine things, ‘twas better to be loyal.

Determined to be loyal, Sundance departed so that he might finish his business.





When Sundance returned to the place where he had eaten a pleasant lunch with his new friends, he found it almost empty, save for Nuance. A brief explanation sorted everything out; Radiance departed to secure a cart, Corbie and Hailstone had their afternoon tutoring, a sleepy Princess Luna had come to take Steadfast away and cuddle him, which left little Nuance all alone.

It seemed that almost everything had been wrapped up and truth be told, Sundance was a little sad that it was over. Nuance seemed upset, and though Princess Celestia’s words were still fresh in his memory, Sundance did not press the colt for information.

“I’ll speak with my master, Blueblood, about getting you an account established. A private one, so you can collect your rent payment. I know for certain that I can get you some houses built.” The colt shuffled around a bit, kicking his hooves against the floor, and his ears drooped. “I have to attend my afternoon lessons. It’s going to be hard… really hard after this, because I’m so excited about what I’m doing. This means so much. I already know that I’m going to be distracted and thinking about this rather than my schoolwork, and I expect to have an awful afternoon.”

Hearing this, Sundance felt bad, but he wasn’t sure how to console the colt.

“I just have to work harder, that’s all. Corbie is right, I guess. I’m smart enough, but I just can’t have an easy go at stuff. I have to spend hours doing what it takes Radiance five minutes to sort out. I can’t stand him, you know. The way he came into the room earlier, and how he acted, and how he acted towards you, and that’s all it is for him, you know? It’s all an act. When he calls truce, he expects Corbie and I to obey, but if one of us calls truce, we’re ignored. A truce from us goes against his stupid ‘directive’ and he’s so quick to remind us that we’re not in charge.”

One wing unfurled and Sundance reached behind his ears so that he could rub away an itch. While he stood there rubbing his head, Nuance seemed to be collecting himself, and Sundance could see anger in the colt’s eyes. A nearby guard shuffled in place and there was a metallic clunk of armor banging together. Sundance imagined that after living around it for a while, one would stop hearing it altogether, because Nuance’s ears did nothing to hone in on the sound.

“My brother is so smooth and sophisticated and everything is just so easy for him.” Nuance’s lip curled back into a petulant sneer and a few sparks could be seen spilling from the tip of his horn. “He was only sort of nice to me today so he could impress you. I knew what was going on but I couldn’t call him on it, because that would get a fight started, so I had to act like everything was okay and I hate it. I hate it!”

“Nuance… when those houses get built, how about you come out and visit me? Come and watch. See what you’ve accomplished. Maybe get away from your brother for a while. I’m positive that the ponies of the Sunfire Barony will appreciate what you’re doing. How’s that sound?”

“You’d… have me… as a guest?” All of Nuance’s anger was now gone and the colt seemed to be quite out of sorts, because his face couldn’t pick an expression to display.

“I think if you saw the payoff for your hard work, it’d make you happy. Watch out though, my peasants are snarky.” Sundance waited for the colt to recover, and he wondered if he was doing the right thing. Would Princess Celestia even allow Nuance to visit? That remained to be seen. “It’s pretty rough, Nuance. It’s just about the most backwards place I’ve ever seen, but I haven’t seen much. Maybe seeing it would help you appreciate all of this.” Waving his wing about, Sundance gestured at everything around him. “I lived in what I thought was a pretty awful apartment, but I sure do miss it now. And I only spent one night in the barony.”

“I…” Nuance licked his lips and his orange tongue made furtive, quick movements as it went from side to side. “My master, Blueblood, he and Dim took me on a tour of the soldier’s hospital in the Crystal Empire. We went there to thank them for their sacrifices. For everything they’ve done for our great empire. But I think that Blueblood and Dim had another reason for bringing me there. The things I saw… it made me sick—I got sick on the floor and Dim mocked me for my weakness. I saw… I saw the price… of… things. It changed me. For the better, I hope.”

“It’s a tough thing to see, kid. I do medical supply deliveries and the hospitals are packed with soldiers who came home less than whole.” Sundance watched Nuance squirming and felt bad for him.

“Radiance has seen it too, but it didn’t phase him. He called it acceptable losses. He’s going to be a soldier, but I don’t think he’ll ever see the dangerous parts of war. He’ll be sitting in some room somewhere, giving orders, and doing the complicated maths that those in command have to do to determine what acceptable losses are.” Nuance licked his lips once more, shook his head, and looked a bit queasy. “I didn’t find it acceptable at all, Sundance. I still have nightmares about it.”

Sundance thought about what Princess Celestia had said about Radiance, about how he would be a great soldier, but an awful pony, and he now had an inkling of understanding of what she meant. For Radiance it seemed, the lives of soldiers were a means to an end, while Nuance saw something else entirely. For society to function, it took all types. His mother was a hard, flinty mare, while Sundance himself favoured a softer, kinder approach, like his grandmother.

“Maybe it does bother him, and he’s just hiding it.” Sundance was quick to give others the benefit of the doubt and he stood still now, trying to think of what else to say to Nuance. The dishes from lunch were gone and the whole of the room had been returned to its pristine state. It looked untouched, more like a museum, and Sundance found this to be distracting.

“Lord Sundance, a word with you if I may.”

Turning about, Sundance saw a new guard that he hadn’t heard approaching. No hooves on the tile, no jangle of armor, nothing. This guard was different, but Sundance couldn’t quite say how. The guard, a unicorn, looked and sounded just like all of the others, almost as if they were all the same pony, and the sheer amount of uniformity around this place was unnerving.

“Yes?”

“I have been sent to inform you that you have a cart awaiting for you.” The unicorn snapped to attention and his hooves should have clicked when they snapped together, but no sound could be heard. “The hospital is also ready to release the earth pony known as Earwax.”

Sighing, Sundance’s tail slapped his hind legs with fitful wags, and he knew that it was time to go. Due to the position of the Canterhorn and the fact that it was now spring, it would be dark earlier than he was accustomed to. Friendship with Nuance would have to be taken in tiny, manageable steps, it seemed.

“Nuance, care to come with me to inspect the cart?” Sundance asked while he turned to look at the colt.

“I’d like to,” Nuance replied, “but I really need to attend to my lessons so I don’t get in trouble.”

“I’ll be in touch, Nuance. I plan to fly into Canterlot regularly. I’ll stop in and say hello. If you get a chance, come and visit me, if you can.” Sundance thought about smiling, but didn’t, because he thought about how Radiance smiled. “Good luck with your schoolwork.”

“Thank you.” The colt’s words held a warm, genuine sincerity, and his eyes held a noticeable brightness to them. “I really feel good about what we’re doing. Thank you for giving me a chance. Good luck getting home.”

Sundance lingered, hating that awkward feeling of saying goodbye, and he turned to face the guard once more. “Show me to the cart, please. I guess it is time to go…”
> Not his best impression
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cart was an excellent representation of the Equestrian military. It had everything that made it a cart, but nothing that made it special. It was utilitarian, rugged, and made to take heaps of abuse. Most of it was cast aluminium reinforced with a steel frame, and the tires appeared to be solid rubber. It was, as Radiance suggested, large enough to hold two ponies in armor. In the rear, it had a tailgate with a kick-switch up front so the flier of the cart could open it, allowing for air drops of goods. Spark lamps were mounted both front and rear so it would meet city airspace regulations.

It was a miracle of modern technology that weighed just a hair under one-hundred pounds. How this was managed, Sundance had no idea, but he was no cart builder. He saw a few dents, a few dings, but he didn’t mind, because this gave the cart some character. Pleased with what he saw, Sundance was oblivious to the wide grin on his face.

“This is one of the upgraded models,” the guard said while Sundance pranced in a circle around the cart. “It has twenty-inch wheels, which makes the landings a little nicer than the previous version with sixteen-inch wheels, but the landings are still rough. The sides are aluminium with a reinforced airship-grade steel frame, but the floor is heavy gage steel diamond mesh to save weight. It’ll also keep rain from pooling in the bed, which is real bad because water is heavy, as I am sure you know. The guard has a name for these carts on account of just how ugly they are. We call it a ‘rape protection wagon.’ You might haul a date home in one of these things, but you’re not getting laid, even if you somehow stick a perfect landing.”

“I bet the mesh floor is also great for vomit,” Sundance remarked while he looked down at the floor itself.

“Tell me, why haven’t you enlisted?” the guard responded. “You’re officer material, sir. Witty, but not too full of your own dung.”

“I was drafted for something else.” Sundance ceased his circling, stopped, and had himself a good look at the guard, who was resplendent in the sun. His armor was perfect—too perfect—and for the first time Sundance noticed that it was different from the standard guard armor. This had tiny suns on it in various places and had a good deal more visual appeal. It was almost as if it was made to shine in the sun, with each angled surface just perfect for reflecting golden rays.

“So I heard.” The guard smiled and let out a husky chuckle. “It’s quite a story. It’s in all the papers. You came looking for your grandmother and you also found your heritage. It really is quite heartwarming.”

“Heartwarming? That’s a curious thing for a guard to say, no offense.”

The guard removed his helmet and underwent a sudden, drastic change. He shrank, becoming a little smaller, though not much, became distinctly feminine, and his—her—pelt went from regulation gleaming white to a dull, drab green. The guard—this mare—appeared to be carved from solid granite and her laugh was somehow even deeper and huskier than her regulation voice.

“None taken.” The armored mare snapped to attention. “I am Immortal Solar Olive of the Zero-One Canterlot Regiment. The very best of the best. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Now it was quite difficult to say anything and Sundance had trouble finding his tongue. She was stunning, beautiful chiseled perfection, complete with a husky, gravel-filled voice. Though his mind and his mouth had trouble forming a sentence, his wings had plenty to say and sprang out from his sides with a near supersonic crack.

The Immortal Solar—the mare, Olive—laughed and covered her mouth with an armored hoof.

“The last time this happened it was because I couldn’t stop looking at my phys-ed teacher,” Sundance muttered and he wished that the fevered throb in his wings would go away. The cold breeze that whipped about just wasn’t enough to soothe him. It was just too much to take in; one rather awesome sky truck and one stunning mare—in armor, no less.

More husky chuckles could be heard from Olive, and her armor made not a single sound. Young as she was, she already had laugh lines in the corners of her eyes and her jovial, jolly nature stood out in sharp contrast to the armor that she wore. The way she laughed was attractive, big full body laughs that held nothing back. Sundance was almost certainly smitten, but he had felt this way before.

Having felt it before made it no less intense now.

“Canterlot has an open sky today,” Olive tried to suppress her laughter and she continued, “but you need to pay attention to what I’m about to tell you next.” She pointed with her hoof at a nearby flag and looked Sundance in the eye. “Flags today are green, which means open sky. If the flags around the city are yellow, that means experienced fliers only, and I’m pretty sure that you qualify, from what I heard. If there are red flags around the city, the skies are closed and nopony or no creature is to approach for the sake of public health and safety. Red flags mean almost certain death on approach.”

“When I came in I couldn’t see much of anything, and certainly not any red flags.” Sundance frowned and thought about what Princess Celestia had said about the yardstick of stupidity. “I had no way of knowing—”

“My Empress, the Immortal Princess Celestia, commanded that I teach you. She also said that on windy days, there are practical warning signs, such as seeing the smoke from chimneys blow sideways… or downwards. If you approach the city on days like that, odds are, you’re going to die a messy, agonising death.”

“Look, I’ve slalomed the stacks at the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen, and I’ve done it in high winds with a faceful of epic stink. I’ve gone cafe racing up and down the avenues and boulevards of Baltimare, flying at street level.” Though he was not one for boasting, a part of Sundance wanted to impress this mare, and his barrel swelled while his chest scruffle poofed out in an inviting display. “And I made the treacherous approach to Canterlot in a blinding storm. Give me any city, in any conditions, and I can fly through it.”

“Flying isn’t the problem, birdbrain, it’s that sudden stop when you splat into something solid.”

Deflating a bit, Sundance blew a lip-flappy raspberry and rolled his eyes. “As if.”

“Look, cleaning up those messes is a real pain. Picking brain matter out of masonry is mighty unpleasant.” Olive’s jaw firmed and her hooves braced against the cobblestones of the courtyard. “If you fly into Canterlot again when the sky is closed, there will be consequences, no matter what the reason might be. You’ve been told, so now you know better.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Sundance tried to sound as cool and suave as possible, and he flashed his most winning smile at Olive, hoping that she too, would smile once more. In the back of his mind a teeny, tiny voice existed, warning him that Officer Mom would take offense to any infractions of the law and that by even thinking about it, he was treading on thin ice. Another voice poo-pooed this, and suggested that Olive was attractive enough to risk an ear twisting.

“Look here, peacock boy, I get it. I do. You’re at that age where you want to strut your stuff and show the world what you’ve got. I’m that way myself and I’m still in hot water for a little stunt I pulled. Even after a direct order to withdraw and regroup, I engaged a parasprite infested hive hydra—”

“A what what?”

“Hydras regrow their heads if you cut them off. A new species of parasprites now infests the necks of hydras, breeding and spawning new parasprites, which feed on the continuously regenerating necks. The poor hydra is driven berserk by the pain and it is quite dangerous.”

Sundance’s mouth fell open and his eyes went as wide as tea saucers.

“Showing off won’t get you anywhere, ‘cept maybe killed. Now you be careful with that.” Olive gestured at the sky truck with her armor-plated hoof and gave Sundance a nod. “Go and be a good lord for your peasants, and not some bastard peacock kaa-niggit. Get outta here, ya mug.” She flashed him a smile again and the laugh-lines returned to the corners of her eyes. “Do come back and say hello sometime, but only when the flags are the right colour.”

With that, Olive slipped her helmet back on, transformed, and sauntered off, leaving Sundance standing agape next to his slightly-used sky truck.





While Sundance strutted down the hall after the nice orderly, he couldn’t help but feel foolish and stupid, because he had totally not acted like his usual well-behaved self. It preyed upon his thoughts and lingered in his mind, a nagging sense of self-correction that chided him for his foolish actions. Of course, he blamed it all upon the fact that the blood had left his brain and had gone to other places.

He had been able to talk to Olive, a pleasant change from his usual tongue-tied state, but looking back on it all, he had nothing worthwhile to say. It felt as though time had been rewound, that he was somehow back in secondary school, floundering over what made him tick and what aroused his tock. Those had been the most confusing of days and he truly hated remembering them. When he thought about his porn stash locked away in his trunk, he suffered a powerful outward cringe and then ground his teeth together.

“Something wrong?” the orderly asked, pausing and looking back over her shoulder.

To which Sundance said the first response that came to mind, and he did so without thinking: “I uh, think I uh, pulled a groin muscle or something.”

“If you want me to look at that, you’ll have to wait till I’m off work and you’ll have to buy me supper first. At least you’re handsome enough that I won’t need a drink or three.” The mare turned her head around to face forward, flicked her tail at Sundance, and then continued down the hall. “If you stay till morning and you want me to fix you breakfast, there had better be a proposal, bub, or I’ll drag your sorry hindquarters out to the curb and kick them into the trash pile.”

Lips curled back in fright, Sundance sucked air through his exposed teeth, shuddered, and wondered if it was really that easy to find a wife. Some mares were desperate, and hey, who was he to judge? After a few seconds, he recovered enough to follow the mare and wondered how Earwax was doing.





Earwax, as it turned out, was eating chocolate and graham crackers smeared with peanut butter. She looked a little weary and for Sundance, there was something endearing about her ernest smile adorned with crumbs as well as being smudged with chocolate. Her eyes were bright, merry, and she seemed as though she was in a remarkable mood for a pony that had just lost a leg.

“Milord!” Earwax cried upon seeing him, and this sent crumbs spraying everywhere.

“Earwax, can you call me Sundance?”

“No.” The mare’s mouth shut and her teeth clicked together.

Huffing a bit, Sundance puffed out, but said nothing because he was just too happy to see Earwax as happy as she was.

“Do I get to see my sister? I’ve never, ever spent the night away from her before. It hurts inside. Yer gonna to take me home, right? Even though I’ve only got three legs?”

Sundance nodded. “That’s right. I’m going to take you home to your sister. I have a cart to carry you in and I’m going to fly you home.”

At this, Earwax swallowed, and it was not a good sound. She sank down in her bright red plastic chair, her ears went limp, and she shook her head from side to side. “Can’t I just walk, Milord?”

“Home is hundreds of miles from here.” Sundance watched a crumb fall from Earwax’s lower lip and his heart warmed with pity for her. “Do you even know which way home is?”

To which Earwax whispered in reply, “I have trouble remembering my left from my right. I’ve never been good at that stuff, but Earwig is.”

“Look, I bet your sister is probably sick with worry, so we need to hurry home. Which means that you need to be brave for your sister’s sake. Right now, a few nice ponies are trying to make my cart a little nicer for you to ride in so you won’t get too banged up. If we hurry and I have a tailwind, I might be able to get you home before sundown.”

“I’m scared of the dark, Milord. I don’t wanna be out in no dark.”

“Which is why you can’t walk home, Earwax. It would take days—” Sundance had to stop because the look on the older mare’s face was heartbreaking. Perhaps it was the realisation of just how far away from home she was, or maybe he was being insensitive somehow, and he wondered if she felt insulted because it kind of sounded like he was saying something bad about her three-legged slowness. He didn’t know, and that made things awful.

“It ain’t right for the Lord to be pulling the peasant,” Earwax said and then she licked her lips. “It’s wrong. Wrong. It goes against the natural order of things. I’m supposed to be pulling the Lord, if there’s a wagon.”

“Look, I hate to do this, but there just isn’t time to talk about this and to try and reassure you. The coming dark is a real threat, because I can’t see in that. I’m not a night terror. Earwax, you’re scared, and I understand that, but I have to do right by you. Now, you’re gonna get into that cart, you’re not gonna fight me about it, I am going to take you home to your sister, and that’s final.”

In response, Earwax gulped, but said nothing, and Sundance felt a terrible guilt wash over him. He didn’t like being authoritative, and while he quailed from his own actions, he thought about his earlier encounter with Princess Celestia. While Radiance disarmed ponies with a smile, his mother did the same with silliness. Princess Celestia eased off the pressure of tyranny with gentle silliness and like a stinging slap to the face, Sundance was struck by an epiphany.

“If you give me any lip, if you sass me even in the slightest, if you use any of that snark that you and your sister showed to me when I met you, then everypony will be getting a ride in the cart and I’ll be pulling them, too. And it will all be your fault that everything is topsy turvy. You got me? Your fault. All the blame will be on you.”

Earwax appeared truly panicked, she ceased breathing entirely, and after a few seconds, her eyes rolled back into her head. With a terrific thump, she crashed to the floor and lay sprawled in a heap upon the gleaming sanitary tiles. Sundance looked down at her, his lips pressed tight together, and realised that he had gone too far. He had blown the poor mare’s mind. Too much silly, perhaps. Still, this worked out to his advantage, and it was time to get her home.

Now, it was time to find a nurse or an orderly and get out of here…
> The fashion of crashin'
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Milord, surely ya want to rest yer wings, Milord!”

Ignoring the panicked cries of the mare tied down in the cart behind him, Sundance went streaking through the sunlight, flying as fast as he dared while loaded down. Oh, he could be going faster, but that would increase the turbulence of the cart a bit and poor Earwax was already getting bounced around far more than he liked. What the cart needed was stabiliser fins, but Sundance wasn’t smart enough to understand how those worked so had no idea how to fashion those himself.

“Milord, I can’t see the ground, yer Lordship!”

If something came swooping out of the clouds and ambushed him, evasive maneuvers would be difficult to accomplish. Earwax was tied in—she had woken up, recovered, and then had steadfastly refused to get in the cart willingly—but he wasn’t comfortable with making her ride any worse than it was. Pulling a cart and a passenger left him far more vulnerable than he liked.

“Milord, might we stop so I can pee?”

Sundance banked, following his sense of direction, and heard a shriek from behind him. Wings pumping, he sighed a bit, it was only a little banking, it wasn’t like he had done a barrel roll or had flown a loop-the-loop. Although he was pretty sure that he could do those things with a cart—if the situation demanded it.

“Milord, what if I fall up and never see the ground again?”

This got his attention and Sundance found himself replying, shouting over the wind, “What do you mean, ‘fall up?’ You can’t fall up!”

“Surely I can, Milord! I am an earth pony! I have left the sacred dirt! What if it don’t want me back and rejects me? I’ve gone to places where I’m not supposed to go! I have sinned against the dirt, Milord! Rejection is real!”

“Preposterous!”

“I don’t know what that means, Milord!”

In response, Sundance laughed, but sadly, he laughed alone, as Earwax found no mirth in the situation. Of course, she was hogtied and strapped down in a cart that was hurtling through the sky at a mile-high altitude, so it might’ve been hard for her to see the humour in the situation. Sundance, being a kind and generous pony, laughed hard enough for the both of them and dove to begin his descent.





Sundance recognised the land beneath him as the rocky, ruined slope. He was certain that some of the tossed-about rocks had to be rubble from some manner of grand structure, perhaps a town, or even a city, or maybe a mighty castle with a city held inside its walls. Having landmarks helped him get his bearings, and he knew which way to go now. Home—yes, it was indeed, home—was north, nestled at the base of the mountains.

Earwax was quiet now, more or less, and Sundance hoped that she was enjoying the view. To the west, off to Sundance’s left, Celestia’s sun was starting to dip down behind the Canterhorn, which meant that darkness was coming sooner rather than later. The easy flight allowed Sundance to think, and he understood why the guard favoured these general issue carts; they were darn-near perfection. Just big enough, easy enough to pull, just small enough, they were practicality perfected. No major changes in their long history, just minor refinements.

All of the other carts that he had pulled had been made of wood; heavy, clunky, made to look good but often had terrible aerodynamics, his every experience with them had been mostly awful. The cart he now pulled allowed him to fly, which was pretty amazing. He thought back to his earlier assessment, and began to wonder if perhaps there was a good reason why stabilisation fins hadn’t been added to the cart for some reason.

It was good to have a good think, but to do that Sundance had to be flying so he could clear his head. While he wasn’t the smartest of ponies, he wasn’t a complete dunce, either. Flying was when he had most of his ideas—and flying dangerously was when he had his best ideas. Taking in the wide open sky around him, Sundance wasn’t sure what to make of it all. The city had challenges for a flier and kept one alert, but wide open skies had a certain appeal as well.

A delightful tailwind came along to assist Sundance while he headed homewards.





Landing was going to be no simple feat, because there were no runways. It was easy enough to remedy, he would have his peasants construct an airstrip and presto! They would have a means to move goods in and out of the barony. But this first landing, and maybe the next few landings, they were going to be of the exciting variety, which were the best type of landing, really.

Approaching the box canyon, Sundance knew right away that something was wrong: the tower atop the spire of rock was missing. He squinted, trying to see better, and could only make out a ruinous mess on the ground down below. The tower had fallen. His tower had fallen. What if he’d been in there? Asleep? The sight chilled his blood and when he shuddered, he wobbled in the air, which caused Earwax to cry out.

It wasn’t just the tower, either, his barony was a mess. Some of the stone cottages had collapsed! It looked as though the storm had hit this place pretty hard. Worry afflicted Sundance, making it difficult to focus on flying, and he knew that if he got too worked up, it would make it difficult to land. Was everypony okay? Were there injuries? Was he going to have to turn around and fly back to Canterlot?

Holding back his worry, Sundance began to look for a place to land.





Angling his primaries just so, Sundance raked through the air and slowed himself, while still keeping some lift in the event that he might have to pull up and abort. His chosen landing site wasn’t ideal; it was uneven, muddy, and sloped, but it was mostly free of large rocks. Mostly. Out of all the places he could technically make a landing, it was his best option. It was a bit short though, with a real rough looking patch at the end. If he failed to stick the landing, he’d be eating rocks for supper.

A healthy pegasus needed his minerals…

Coming in hot, Sundance hoped that the ground was free of chuck holes, gopher burrows, and other hazards, or Earwax wouldn’t be the only one missing a leg. Gritting his teeth, he braced himself, flexed his knees, and tilted his head just so, just as his mother had taught him so that he’d have a better stereoscopic view of what was ahead. The landing site was far too short, he realised, but it was too late and he was coming down. While he could abort, he would still have to try to land here, because there were just too many scattered rocks and the ground was too uneven elsewhere.

Primaries curling like fingers gripping the air, Sundance angled his body a little sideways in his harness to create more drag and slow himself. The ground was maybe two yards away and he corrected himself at the last moment possible, straightening out and getting his legs beneath him at the right angles. The cart hit first and he heard Earwax cry out, but now was not the time to be distracted. She was on cushions so she should be fine.

The impact of the cart jolted his whole body and sent fire burning through his wing joints, but he remained focused on his landing. His hind hooves came down first, hit mud, and were almost sucked in. The cart bounced a few more times and the harness felt as though it was cutting into his skin, but he had to keep performing the complicated dance that would allow him to walk away from this with no broken legs.

When his front legs impacted, it was harsh and he heard squelches as the sharp angles of his hooves sliced through the muddy, clinging soil. Now on the ground, Sundance knew that there would be no taking off, no last second abort, and he was committed to the adventurous landing that may or may not be a crash. Angling his wings so the edges ran straight up and down, he began his furious flapping because he wasn’t in the mood to have rocks for supper.

Bracing his legs, he dug in his hooves as much as he dared, risking a broken leg or four, and could feel the cart shoving him forwards towards the scattered boulders at the end of this far-too-short clear space. Oh, this was going to suck, no doubt about it, and he dropped his rump down low in a desperate, perhaps vain attempt to create more drag. Now, the weight of the cart slammed into the middle of his spine, rather than his sides, and he knew that he had made a mistake when the momentum threatened to cut him in half.

Skidding, sliding, his hooves scraping and bouncing against small, loose stones, Sundance came to a soggy, muddy halt with less than a yard to spare. Wings aching, he held them out in triumph and then spat on the rocks before him in contempt. Earwax was screaming bloody murder, but that was okay, that was fine, everything was fine, and this most certainly wasn’t a crash. Nope. All of Sundance’s stress began to leak out of him, it started with a chuckle, and then became barking laugher that shook his whole body.

The last golden rays of Celestia’s sun somehow reached around the Canterhorn and shone down upon Sundance, illuminating his burnt-orange ochre hide, and through some impossible magic, turned the awkward aftermath of crashing into the mud into a truly majestic sight.

Later, the witnesses of the Sunfire Barony would tell, the Milord’s testicles three sizes did swell.





“Milord… you’ve returned.”

It was a relief to hear Cucumber’s voice and Sundance almost hugged the ancient unicorn. Ponies were starting to gather and Earwig was already in the cart, clinging to her sister and sobbing. Sundance shook a little mud off, kicked some mud from his hooves, and reveled in being alive. Absolutely stoked, Sundance wondered how much strutting he might be able to get away with before the ponies around him were fed up or annoyed.

“I told you I’d be back,” Sundance said to his elderly retainer.

“Sire… not long after you left…” Cucumber seemed to be collecting himself and his rheumy eyes struggled to focus on Sundance. “The storm struck us at full force—”

“And the tower fell?” Sundance glanced in the direction of the ruined remains and then peered at his retainer once more.

“Milord, it was said that if the tower ever fell, it would be the end of our barony. The end of us. It survived the battle, and even when the rest of the keep collapsed, it remained standing. Sire, we took it as an omen… that you had fled… and everything was over… forgive me, Milord.”

Unsure of what was going on exactly, Sundance blinked a few times and tried to get a feel for things. Cucumber was crying, and so were quite a few of the rest of his peasants. Some had gathered around the cart to be near the reunited sisters, and it was then that he realised that Earwax was still hogtied. Something had to be done about that.

“Cucumber, please untie Earwax for me. Thanks.”

“Right away, Sire.” Sniffling, Cucumber shuffled off, his horn glowing with a faint, feeble light, and the crowd parted for him so that he might pass. “Milord, that tower has stood since I was but a colt. When the separatists came, the town was laid to ruins, the outer hold was destroyed, the inner hold was laid to ruin, but we held the enemy here, in this place. The mightiest of unicorns we had stood in the tower, and rained down death upon our advancing enemies, and somehow, the tower held. Even though our barony went into decline, the tower remained.” While he spoke, he loosened the knots that held Earwax and freed her.

“When it fell,” a feminine voice said, speaking above the dull roar of the gathered crowd, “we thought it was the end of us. We thought we’d have to leave our home. We thought you leaving made it fall. We’re sorry, Milord.”

With a flap, Sundance lept up onto a nearby boulder, struck his most commanding pose, spread his wings, and looked down upon all who had gathered. “I kept my word,” he began while he gestured at Earwax, who was now freed from her bonds and was embraced by her sister. “Listen up, you lot! I kept my word. Earwax lost a leg, but she has not been cast aside, and neither will any of you. The old ways are dead and gone and I suppose the fallen tower could be seen as an omen of that. I am not leaving this place and I plan to bring a few changes. Let Earwax be the proof of that!”

As far as speeches went, it wasn’t much, but the golden rays of the sun were doing their darnedest to illuminate him and make him look as majestic as possible. The gathered ponies gawked at Sundance and for the first time, adoration could be seen in some of their eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was a darn good start. Also for the first time, Sundance appeared as a leader, but it might have been a trick of the sunlight bathing him in brilliant golden light.

Again, the crowd parted, and Sundance saw Earwig approaching. She was crying, her mouth jerked and contorted, and her sides heaved. He was moved to pity by the sight of her, and when she reached the rock, he watched as she kneeled by the rock he stood on. She was bowing, prostrating herself before him, and he lowered his head down, because it felt weird to tower over a pony crawling on their belly before you.

“I brought you your sister back,” Sundance said to the prone mare who was belly-down in the mud. He was mindful of his balance, because if he slipped, then fell off of this rock and landed atop the mare beneath him, it would surely spoil this moment.

“Milord, I’m grateful.” Earwig sounded as though she was choking, but somehow, she continued. “My life for you. I give you my oath, it’s all I have to give, and I’m sorry, but I can’t remember the words, it’s been a long time since I was a filly and I ain’t never given my oath before, not even to the last Milord. But I give my oath to you. All I have, all I am, and all I do, it’s all for you, Milord.”

Lifting his head, Sundance understood the solemnity of the moment, and had nothing smart to say, nor did he dismiss what she had said. Instead, sensing opportunity, he nodded and replied, “I accept your oath, and in return, I give you my pledge of protection and service. You are mine, and I zealously protect what is mine. Now, get up and go be with your sister.”

When Earwig lifted her head, Sundance saw such love and reverence in her eyes, and he understood. At that moment, he had an inkling of what it meant to be like his grandmother. Earwig had given him something precious, something meaningful, the only thing she had of value, and he had given her something significant in return. In a world were it seemed that words meant so little, these words had importance, and he reflected upon this, musing on the meaning of it all.

Standing on his rock, Sundance saw other ponies approaching; as they drew nearer, he grew jittery and anxious, because he knew what was about to happen. Even Cucumber was among their number, and the ponies parted around him to allow the old retainer with rickety knees to pass so that he might be first.

Resplendent in the last fading rays of the sun, Sundance was ready to receive them…
> Fashion statement
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Milord… Sire… you seem to have an owl on your noggin.” Somehow, while delivering this bit of news, Cucumber remained as dignified and polite as ever and announced this in much the same way he announced everything else. The elderly retainer paused for a time, cocked his head off to one side, and gave Sundance a piercing glare of intense concentration. “Am I to understand that Milord is attempting to start some new fashion of wearing an owl as a hat?” 

“Well,” Sundance replied while the pricking of tiny owl claws made his scalp tingle, “I don’t know anything about fashionable trends, Cucumber, but I do believe this makes me look quite, oh, I don’t know… lordly. What do you think, Cucumber?” 

“Oh, indeed, Sire… the Royals will all take up wearing owls as crowns, I figure. Never has there been a more lordly Milord.” The crotchety old retainer lifted his head for a better look, which caused his neck to pop and crackle. One eyebrow arched and after a bit of blinking, his stare gained some focus. “Milord, your owl looks like a pincushion.” 

“I’ll not have you speak foul of my owl!” 

“Milord, was that a pun?” Cringing, Cucumber shied away with a look of disgust smeared over his wrinkled, sagging visage. 

“In hindsight, it seems to be. Cucumber, tell me, my trusty retainer, what is on the schedule for today? What do we have planned? What greatness shall we accomplish?” 

“Schedule, Milord?” The withered, wrinkly unicorn appeared confused for a time. “Same thing that is on the schedule every day, Milord. We try to survive our lot in life. Very much like your little owl friend.”

“Very well, let’s go do that then. Come, Cucumber, we have peasants to rouse.” 

“Sire, they were out of bed long before dawn, while you took the privilege to sleep in.” 

“Well, let’s do something, I’m bored.” 



 

The tower, though fallen, now served a new purpose. Its many stones now formed the foundation of the barony’s new runway, as well as some new paved paths. Sundance was quite pleased with this and he stood upon the high spire of rock where the tower had once been, surveying his holdings. Over the past few days since his return with Earwax, a change had come over his barony and his peasants. They seemed happier, eager to work, and morale had improved. The difference was noticeable. 

When the tower collapsed, a great many owls lost their home. Said owls were a great asset, as they ate the rodents that menaced the barony’s food supply. Quite a number of young owls were now out of their nests and forced to make their way in the world. One owl in particular, no doubt a late hatching, was not quite fit to join the other homeless juveniles and was now perched upon Sundance’s head. The Greater Equestrian Screaming Owl was the sort of creature that no sane pony would want the company of, but for whatever reason, Sundance couldn’t imagine his barony not having these storied owls. Why, with having a sulphurous musk heavy in the air and owls that randomly screamed bloody murder, his barony was a veritable paradise. Who wouldn’t want to live here?

“Milord…” 

A somewhat winded elderly stallion with a deep purple pelt approached and Sundance struggled to remember. “Eggplant, right?” 

“Ah, yes, yes Milord.” The old feller bowed his head a bit. “Milord, ya seem to have an owl ‘tween yer ears.” 

“Indeed I do,” Sundance replied. “What brings you up here to this lofty vantage point, Eggplant?” 

“Seasonings, Milord.” 

“Seasonings?” Sundance now gave the matter his full attention, and when he brought his gaze to bear upon the elderly earth pony, there was a curious hoot from atop his head. 

“We have seed stock, Milord. Seasonings are wanted, right? They sell? We could be growing and selling. We have growers not growing. The last Milord didn’t want to grow and sell seasonings. I don’t know why. Some of us got together and talked about breaking new ground for seasonings. It’s effort well spent, Sire.” 

This struck Sundance as a good idea. There was an awful lot of standing about now that things were getting done. It occurred to him that he had a lot of labour—even if it was elderly labour—and suitable tasks were needed. Growing seasonings, spices, whatever, didn’t seem too arduous—it was something his peasants wanted to do, even—and it was something that could bring in some coin. 

“Milord, when I was young, I traded produce for the barony. I was good at it. I miss those days, Sire. I’m old, but I still have the know-how.” 

“We must return to those days, Eggplant. See to it that we grow spices and seasonings again. I trust in your wisdom. Break as much ground as needed and plant just enough. Don’t overwhelm us.” 

“Aye, Milord.” Right away, Eggplant turned about and shuffled off, mumbling something to himself. 

From the owl, there was a final hoot goodbye. 



 

The new runway was level, with packed sand and clay smoothing out the slope. It’s bulk was supported with a crude but effective retaining wall that ran its entire length, created with stones from the fallen tower. It was a good runway, if a little rough. Like everything else in the barony, it would have to do. Torches daubed with pitch had been placed along its length, and could be lit at a moment’s notice by Cucumber. A landing at night would be… interesting, to say the very least. 

With the runway and the sky truck, Sundance would be able to move goods in and out of the barony. The peasants were none too keen on the idea of the Milord hauling goods—some of them were quite upset by the very notion—but for the barony to live and thrive again, trade had to be established. 

Floodgate had even gone through the trouble to ensure that the runway had proper drainage. Hoe Hum and Lamp Black were planting flowers so that the runway could have a bit of colour. The peasants seemed excited about having a connection to the outside world and Sundance imagined that this must be a hopeful, exciting time for everypony. 

“Milord, there’s an owl on yer brain box.” 

“I hadn’t noticed, Kant Apfel,” he replied while trying to keep a straight face. 

“Milord, I came to talk to you about the owls.” 

Striking a dramatic pose, Sundance gave the mare his full attention. As it turned out, the peasants had a lot to say when one bothered to listen. They had ideas of how this place should be run, good ideas, ideas that were most certainly an improvement over the current state of affairs. Kant Apfel, though completely uneducated, was as sharp as a tack. 

“Milord, our orchard is overrun with pests and has been for a long time. We get very little from our trees.” 

Sundance brought to mind what he knew. Cucumber had told him that there was a bit of a rivalry between Birnen Streusel and Kant Apfel. The orchard grew much, but almost everything was lost to birds and rodents. Getting the orchards producing again was a top priority, as was the bee project, because sulphured honey was worth an alchemist’s fortune. 

“We need an owlery, Milord.” 

“A what?” Sundance had never heard the word before. 

“An owlery. A place for owls. If we build them a home, they’ll eat the pests. The owl is our symbol. Or it was. When I was young, the barony was decorated with owls everywhere. Owls and sunflowers, Milord. It’s all gone now. The last Milord destroyed everything with his tantrums. Birnen says it pained the Milord to remember our glory days. Birnen ain’t right about much, but he’s right about that.” 

“Owls, you say. Owls everywhere.” Sundance thought about the tiny owl perched on top of his head. There were worse creatures to symbolise a barony. Owls and sunflowers. What would Princess Celestia have to say about this? Could past glory be the way forward? Yes, he decided. “Begin construction of an owlery. Owleries. I want one in the orchard and I want one here, where our crops are.” 

Kant Apfel seemed pleased, but said nothing in response. Instead, she nodded and then took off in an excited hurry, but did her best to look as though she wasn’t in an excited hurry. Sundance watched her go and there was a faint hoot from the owl perched atop his head, a hoot that surely was approval. 

He had no idea what an owlery was, or how one was constructed, but he imagined them to be just really big bird houses. Giant bird houses. Owl mansions, perhaps? So the owl was once the symbol of the Sunfire Barony. What were those symbolic animals called again? There was name for it, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Being a baron, it was his job to know these things and asking around seemed detrimental to his good standing.

Perhaps a flag was in order; yes, a flag with an owl clutching sunflowers. 

There was an alarmed hoot from the owl on his head, followed by an ear-piercing, blood curdling scream. As bad as this was, it was made worse by the fact that the screaming owl was sitting right between his ears. The Greater Equestrian Screaming Owl truly, truly lived up to their name and Sundance regretted allowing the wee owlet to roost there. He glanced about, trying to discover the cause for alarm, and felt sharp claws poking his scalp as the owlet made a desperate attempt to hold on. 

After glancing about in all directions, he saw what had caused his owl so much alarm. A paper bird was flying right for him. It was an origami paper swan, just like the ones he had seen made in school, though he had never made one. It was flying right for him, its paper wings flapping, and he marvelled, slack-jawed at the sight. Magic of any sort was a wondrous thing for him and this, this was extraordinary magic indeed. 

The origami bird flew right into his nose, poking him, and he jerked his head back hard enough to cause his owl to wobble. Again, tiny claws gripped his scalp and Sundance whinnied from the painful pricks as the paper swan unfolded itself right before his very eyes. He saw letters on the paper, fine, flowing script, and before the paper fell to the ground, he snatched it with his wing so that he might have a better look. 



Dear Lord Sundance:

Hitch up to your wagon and hurry at once to your train depot! 

Time is of the essence as your delivery will arrive within the hour after you receive this. I am trusting you because Princess Celestia trusts you, and she says that I should give you a chance. So after much deliberation, I have chosen to do so. Do not disappoint me. An explanation is forthcoming, I promise, but now is the time for action, not explaining. 

Why are you standing there, reading this? I told you to hurry! 

Best regards, 

Lady Twilight Velvet



Standing there, still looking at the letter that had just delivered itself, Sundance said to the owl perched upon his head, “Worry not, little one. I’m going to leave you with Cucumber. Maybe he can zap something for you to eat. It seems I have to go pick up a parcel of some kind at the train depot. Better hurry, it seems.” 



 

Dark clouds loomed over the Everfree, but they seemed disorganised and scattered—at least for now. The potential for a storm existed and Sundance kept one wary eye on the weather as he flew southward. Some time ago during his flight, he realised that there was no runway at the train depot and this was something that would need to be fixed at some point in the future. 

Pulling a sky truck felt good. The exercise was welcome and flying allowed him to clear his head. There was a lot to think about, plans to make, and a good fly cleared the mind like nothing else. Hauling goods seemed like an excellent way to hustle up some bits on the side, especially now that he had an account set up for him. Perhaps establishing himself as a courier would be a good idea. He had the wagon, the means, he had plenty of spare time, and he had a barony that was in desperate need of funds. 

It could be seen as a good diplomatic move as well, he reckoned. If he made deliveries to other fiefdoms, he could get to know his fellow lords and ladies. Surely they had goods to move. Doing so would familiarise him with the land and local customs. He had to make friends—not just friends for himself, but his barony needed friends. Allies. 

Yes… starting a delivery service seemed ideal. 

It seemed as though he was a bit off when he saw the train depot off to his left. Banking, he began his descent. As he dropped down, his wings slicing through the sky, he felt a gentle push of wind, which had shifted directions and was now blowing northward. Squinting, he eyeballed the dark clouds over the Everfree and watched as the wind shoved them in his direction. 

Flying home, he might have a bit of a tailwind, but he might also have a storm.
> Future secured
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rotten, dilapidated train depot was not deserted. After a soft landing on the flat, spongy ground, Sundance had himself a better look at the mare and two foals waiting for him at the stop. They avoided the splintery bench and the decaying lean-to shelter, opting to wait in the grass instead. Never once did the mare take her eyes off of him, and Sundance studied her as he approached. 

One thing was for certain; she was pregnant, and very much so. 

She was wary, this mare, and so was the earth pony filly hiding between her front legs. A much smaller unicorn colt peered out from behind mare’s hind legs. The little unicorn colt made a valiant effort to appear bold, fierce, but his stubby little horn kept fizzling out. Sundance could only imagine what sort of embarrassment a fizzled-out horn must cause. 

A fine strong breeze blew northward, bringing with it the musty, somewhat dank smell of the Everfree. The scent of forest loam, the smell of decay transitioning into life on the forest floor. It was a new scent for Sundance, who for his whole life had lived in a city, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. 

“Mister,” the mare said while doing a complicated dance to secure her foals beneath her. 

“Miss.” It only seemed proper to respond in kind. 

“I was told to come here, wait for you, and explain myself to you.” The earth pony mare shuffled a bit and tail-slapped her colt when he tried to step out from beneath her. “My name is Hollyhock… and you, you must be Sundance?” 

“That I am,” he replied. 

“I don’t know how to begin.” 

“Typically, one begins from the beginning.” 

Peals of laughter escaped from the mare, nervous, barking laughter, and with great rapidity she brought herself back under control. Her eyes were bright, but fearful, and there was something else as well, something that Sundance couldn’t quite make out. At least he had made her laugh, and he felt as though that counted for something. 

“Twilight Velvet trusted me to come here and wait,” the mare began, and her expression became one of shame. “She said it was the first big step in my rehabilitation. I got in some trouble, you see… a lot of trouble, I guess. My circumstances got bad and I did stupid stuff. They were gonna take my foals away from me and send me to a correctional colony up north somewhere, but Twilight Velvet fought to keep me and my little family together.” 

Saying nothing, Sundance unhitched himself from his sky truck and sat down in the grass. 

“I stole.” Ducking her head down, the distraught, shamed mare avoided Sundance’s gaze. “I stole, and I kept stealing. I couldn’t find work because I couldn’t afford a foalsitter and I couldn’t afford a foalsitter because I couldn’t find work and I’m a single mom and things got desperate and so I stole. I turned to pilfering what I needed and after I became homeless I decided that there was no point in being honest anymore, I had to provide somehow. The world screwed me over and so I was gonna screw the world right back.” 

The light grey earth pony filly laid down near her mother’s front hooves but never once looked away, keeping her focused stare on Sundance. A moment later, the unicorn colt, her brother, joined her, and she pulled her smaller sibling closer. Hollyhock continued standing and her sides heaved in such a way that it was obvious that she was holding in some powerful sobs. 

“I was stupid, and I stole.” Ears drooping, the mare shook her head and looked down at the two foals resting in the grass near her front hooves. “Twilight Velvet told me of a place where I could go with my foals… a place where I wouldn’t have to worry about money, or rent, or an electric bill, and there’d always be food on the table, and I thought she was lying to me… pullin’ my leg, but I was desperate. She promised me that I could keep my family together. The judge ruled on the side of mercy, and so here I am. I was made the property of Sundance, which is you, and the first act of my rehabilitation was coming out here to the middle of nowhere and waiting for you.” 

Sundance almost said something, but held his tongue. It bothered him that the ponies living in his demesne were his property, but he understood the legal sense involved. It took some mental gymnastics on his part, but he refused to see it as ownership, and more as absolute responsibility on his part. Guardianship. Protecting. Anything but ownership, because if he owned another pony, his mother would twist his ears off. He liked his ears—they were a fine set of ears and a pony only ever got one pair of ears. 

“I feel scared and crazy, because I’m about to go off to a strange place with a strange stallion that I don’t know, and this guy, he owns me now, and he’s sitting in the grass staring at me, and I’m really scared out of my mind, which is funny and crazy, because I kept thinking about easing myself into prostitution… which is even funnier and crazier, because the idea of turning tricks scared me and made me panic, but I’m really just a stupid, stupid mare, because all three of my little ones have three different daddies, all of them almost strangers, and I was fine with one night stands, but the idea of turning tricks for bits scares me and going off with some guy to some strange place has me terrified, and nothing in my life makes sense right now, and I really don’t want you to see me crying, and my emotions are a mess, and I’m hormonal!” 

Reaching up, Sundance scratched behind his left ear with his left front hoof. 

“Twilight Velvet promised me that you’d take care of me, but I don’t rightly know what that means, I’m terrified to find out. I don’t know what I’m doing here. And you.., you’re just sitting there, all calm and having a good scratch while I’m rambling like a nutter and all of my thoughts are going to awful places and right now I feel like screaming because I don’t want my little ones to watch something bad happen to me and it is really, really scary being out in the middle of nowhere with a total stranger. I’m sorry. I thought I could handle this better and instead I’m losing my mind.” 

Still scratching, Sundance saw this for what it was; a test. What was he being tested for? Character perhaps. He had himself a branded thief—a convicted criminal—and she was in a position that was vulnerable to his authority. How he handled himself right now, at this very moment, would define his rule as a baron. Right out of the gate, impossible tests of moral character were being thrown at him and he had no doubts that he was being watched. There was no way that this situation wasn’t being observed somehow, by somepony, and that somepony would be reporting back to Princess Celestia. 

It was time to develop a healthy sense of paranoia. 

“I got sentenced to peasanthood.” Hollyhock’s voice cracked mid-sentence and she closed her eyes while her face darkened. “Now, I don’t wanna say that it was unfair… I’m happy I still have my foals… but all of this has been humiliating and scary.” 

“I would imagine so,” Sundance replied. 

“You talk!” Hollyhock’s eyes flew open and her ears made a dramatic upsweep. “And your voice is really kind and reassuring too. I’ve been waiting for you to say something… anything, really. This not knowing what is about to happen to me is killing me. Whatever is about to be done next, just get it over with.” 

Pulling his hoof away, Sundance ended his delightful scratch and studied the mare that had been pouring her heart out to him for the past few minutes. In the distance, birds trilled, making distracting sounds that caused his ears to pivot about and face different directions. A breeze made the grass ripple and the occasional gust was strong enough to whip his mane about. 

“It seems to me”—Sundance paused and demanded as much as possible from his brain—“that your trouble came about due to concerns about money. And this Twilight Velvet, whomever she is, it seems to me that she took away the circumstances where money was a concern. The barony is a rough place, I won’t lie. It’s downright unpleasant, but money isn’t a concern there. At least not for the peasants. There’s lots of food and that… that’s just about it. There’s housing, but it is not good housing. I’m trying to fix that, because I live there too. There’s not much to steal, I’m afraid, so those job skills of yours are going to grow rusty. We’ll have to find something else for you to do. Everypony works, no exceptions.” 

“I can work.” The pregnant mare bristled and her sides heaved with every troubled breath she drew. “I dropped out of school and was a factory worker for a long time. Pulled a lever on a machine that made wagon hub assemblies. But things happened. My job got stolen by a steam piston. My savings ran out. Those hardly lasted a month. And then… then… I just couldn’t make things work. I couldn’t find a foalsitter… look, I wanted to work. I didn’t want to be a thief! I’m really ashamed of myself—if I could have just somehow found a job I wouldn’t have become a pilferer! Foals make awful sounds when they're hungry! You don’t know what it’s like—” 

“Actually,” Sundance neatly interrupted, “I do. I’m not making any judgments.” He saw her eyes narrow, and though still fearful and full of shame, something else could be seen. 

“How could you possibly know?” she demanded. “You’re the lord of some barony.” 

“I grew up poor.” Sundance locked eyes with the now defiant mare. “My father is a factory worker. He pulls a lever and makes little dimple things that go on the bottom of light bulbs. My mother is a beat cop. I was one of those poor foals that made sad noises when I was hungry. Keeping the lights on and the rent paid was hard for us. Sacrifices had to be made.” 

“Gosh, I’m sorry… that makes me feel better—not that you suffered, no! Don’t get the wrong idea! I keep making a mess of things, darn it. I just feel better knowing that you understand. It means something, though I’m not sure what that is.” 

A mutual silence settled in and as the two ponies studied one another, grey clouds rolled in overhead. The breeze grew cold and delicate flower petals, torn free by ruthless gusts, swirled above the tall, swaying grass. Sundance could not help but think that his barony had one young mare now, an earth pony filly, and one unicorn colt. There was also one foal on the way and making certain that said foal was delivered healthy was now his top priority. It might mean flying in a midwife, though he was not sure how he would pay for one. 

“This”—with a soft touch, Hollyhock placed one hoof upon her daughter’s head—“is Amber Dawn. She’s a bit sarcastic and I’m told she’s smart and I can’t believe how well-behaved she’s being right now and I feel terrible because I don’t have anything to reward her with. She’s polite but snarky.” 

Sundance nodded. 

“And this”—she lifted her hoof and prodded her colt—“is Lemongrass. He’s a worrywart. After I got arrested and he was taken from me, I’m told he went catatonic for a while and scared everypony. He’s not stupid, but he’s been a bit, um, uh, slow to develop. He’s actually pretty smart. I guess he’s just not in a hurry to grow up like his sister was. Like I said, he’s not stupid. He just needs some patience before he catches on. I hope your school is understanding.” 

Somehow, Sundance’s expression remained placid while panic erupted within. 

There was no school. Even worse, there was no school teacher. Education was nonexistent. Sundance was not the smartest pony—he was no great mind—but he understood the importance of education and he owed these two foals some kind of future. There was a third foal on the way. How could he fix this? Hiring a teacher was going to cost a lot of money, no doubt. Money he did not have. Twilight Velvet had done this to him, so perhaps it was time to hunt her down so she could be made to answer for all this trouble she had caused. 

The first raindrop caught him by surprise and he went cross-eyed trying to look at his nose where the droplet had struck. Recovering his senses, he turned his gaze skyward, saw trouble, and knew it was time to go. To the south, the skies had darkened and Sundance had the distinct feeling that the feral weather of the Everfree did not like him. 

“Uh, we’ll need to finish our discussion at a later time,” he announced. “We need to go. Now. No, not now, five minutes ago. Hurry!”
> Truckin'
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even as the first raindrops fell, Hollyhock hesitated. Sundance had already hitched himself to the sky truck and was ready to go, but the pregnant mare kept her distance. A mild sense of annoyance could not be held at bay, but Sundance showed no outward signs. Overhead, the skies began to darken in the sort of way that happened during spring and summer storms, that is to say with a great deal of sudden ferocity. 

“What’s to keep us from falling out?” Hollyhock asked. 

“Hold on to your foals,” Sundance replied. 

“Who holds on to me?” 

Stomping a hoof, Sundance squashed the grass as a few fat raindrops splashed his back. “Everything will be fine. Now, let’s go. Right now, you are putting your little ones in danger. There is no shelter here. That lean-to over there will do nothing. If we leave right now, I think I can keep ahead of the worst of the storm, but I think it might chase us.” 

“Storms will chase ponies?” 

“Get in the sky truck!” Sundance snapped, perhaps a bit louder than he intended. 

In the future, he would need to always carry rope or some means to secure passengers. Perhaps he could secure a cargo container to the sky truck, a place where rope could be stored, but now was not the time to think of such things. Hollyhock was doing as she was told, and she loaded her foals into the sturdy two-wheeled cart. Amber Dawn was dropped in first, then Lemongrass, and when both of her foals were aboard, Hollyhock clambered on. 

“My life is in your hooves,” she said while sitting down and settling into a rear corner. “Wings? It sounded so much better in my head, but it sounds so stupid now. Why? Why do I have to look a fool in front of the pony who’s saving my sorry, worthless life?” 

When Sundance took off at a run, there were three cries from the cart behind him. The tall grass offered up a lot of resistance—good for landing, but terrible for taking off. Wings pumping, Sundance threw himself against his harness and gave it all that he had. Behind him, Hollyhock was being bounced around, he could feel it, and for a moment he wondered how soldiers stayed put. No doubt there was some means of securing them that he was unaware of. 

After almost a hundred yards of hard effort, Sundance took to the air. The tall grass was a learning experience; landing in it was great, but taking off from it was terrible. Hollyhock was shrieking behind him, but as soon as the ride smoothed out he figured that she would calm down a bit. Of course, the ride could also get bumpy, because the storm was making a valiant attempt to crawl right up his backside. The powerful tailwind pushed on the sky truck behind him, which put a lot of pressure on the various stress points of his harness. 

All that powerful wind blew at an angle, pushing the cart off to Sundance’s right, which caused him to fly a bit to the left. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be blown off course, so he knew that he’d need to make adjustments. He was still learning the lay of the land, the visual landmarks that would guide him from place to place. 

There was a certain romance to all of this, and he had a keen awareness of it. At the moment, he had become Sundance, Sky Trucker, the intrepid pilot who flew his precious cargo to safety, racing ahead of storms to deliver the goods. Just a stallion and his sky truck, trying to make the world a better place. 

Behind him, there was an ominous crackle of thunder. 

“Mama, you can see the storm so much better up here!” 

“Amber, be quiet!” 

“But Mama, look!” 

A powerful gust caused the sky truck to shudder and this in turn made Sundance wobble. He didn’t have goggles and he remembered what the last storm had done to his eyes. Flexing his primaries, he decided that the risk was worth it. Angling his wings just so, he gripped the tailwind that was coming on strong and he heard shrieks from behind when his speed almost doubled. 

His mother warned him about riding the storm. She explained to him at length why he should always be in control of his own flight. He knew the danger. But right now, speed was needed and if he was lucky, the outer edge of the storm would push him ahead continually, keeping him ahead of the worst that the storm had to offer. It was risky, he had no doubts, but he knew that he could ride the outer swells home, provided that the wind held. 

Of course, if his mother ever found out that he was doing this with passengers… 

It took all of his strength and concentration to try and stay level. For some reason, he recalled the surfing movies he had watched, with ponies riding surfboards on the crests of dangerous waves. He folded up his front legs, tucking his hooves against his barrel, but kept his back legs extended to act as rudders. His wings acted more like sails at the moment and he bore the full brunt of the wind in his sturdy wing joints. Was he strong enough? 

That was a tough question to answer. If he wasn’t, he might be too exhausted later to try and rise above the storm. Holding his wings in this position and all of this fine muscle control was taxing. He could sense the rain behind him even as he felt a few stray drops collide with his back. This was just surfing, really. He was going to ride the crest of the storm all the way home, and if his luck held out, he would have another flying story. 

“Mama, there’s faces in the clouds! Do you see them?” 

“Hush, Amber! Hush!” 

Though risky, Sundance hazarded a glance back over his withers at the storm behind him. Tall, dark, anvil-shaped, he saw a lot of bluster. It was a spring thunderstorm and little more. Nothing at all like the maelstrom he had encountered a short while back. A little rain would do his barony some good and he could have the storm push him home, if he was lucky. 

“Hey, you!” he called out, shouting over his withers behind him. “Yeah, you with the ugly faces! I hear your mother was an incontinent picnic wetter!” 

There was a deep, foreboding rumble in response. 

Waggling his backside, he continued to goad the storm into fierce action: “How about you blow me?” 

The sudden rush of air shoved Sundance forward and he struggled to keep his wings at just the right angle. Gale speed winds struck him with terrific force and his harness put a lot of strain on his innards. He was being pushed upwards, too, gaining altitude, which was both good and bad. Too much altitude and the tailwind would be little more than a weak breeze. No, he needed to stay down where the wind was the strongest. 

“Your mother blew whole picnics!” 

Had he ever gone this fast? It was hard to say. Windshear was hard to manage at this speed, but he was learning an awful lot on the fly. How fast was he going? Hard to guess. Though he hardly had to flap, this was still going to be an exhausting trip, as his physical exertions to hold everything together were considerable. If anything struck his eyes at this speed, he’d be done for. He might even get brained. 

But it felt good to take risks. 



 

The wind came in hard and to his left as Sundance flew westward. He had overcorrected a bit too much, flown off course, and had ended up a bit too far east. Most of the storm was just wind now, with a bit of light rain, having blown itself it out shoving him home. He and his precious cargo were drenched, it was cold, but he wasn’t worried. There were fires to get warm by. Landing might be a little exciting with a side wind, but he was confident that he could touch down with no real trouble. 

For the first time in who knew how long, his barony had young ponies. Well, other than himself. He was bringing home a future, but this future had demands, and said demands brought to attention the necessities his barony lacked. Somehow, he would have to provide. It was like having a really large family—with one more on the way. 

The new runway, while a bit damp, looked fine to land upon. Everything had worked as intended. No standing water, no puddles, and the runway itself had not collapsed in the rain. From his lofty vantage point, he could see Cucumber shuffling over, moving as fast as his knobby knees would allow, which wasn’t very fast at all. Others too, were gathering around the landing strip, including Earwig and Earwax, just the ponies he wanted to see, because he had a plan. 

He trusted Earwig and Earwax implicitly. Absolute trust. For now, he would house Hollyhock and her foals with those two. Earwax was still adjusting to life on three legs and could no doubt use a little helper or two. Hollyhock needed somepony she could trust while she settled in. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more he thought this would be ideal. 

This was home now. As Sundance approached, he could not help but feel he was home. It was here he had found purpose, meaning. Though he still had plenty of fears, worries, and doubts, there would be no turning away, no going back home with his tail between his legs so he could live with his mother. He thought of the others in Canterlot, those nobles just like himself, the young, idealistic ponies that could be found in Château Nouveau.

At long last, he had found work that suited him, and he got to pull a sky truck as well. 

Flapping his wings, Sundance touched down with a bit of bump, which caused his passengers to cry out. Though wet, the landing strip wasn’t muddy, soft, or squishy. It was hard packed, quite firm, and wasn’t slippery in the slightest. Good work had been done. The cart rattled and bounced behind him, the hard, solid rubber tires doing little to absorb the bumps. 

In short order, he came to a skidding halt and stood grinning in the light drizzle. 



 

“Milord… your owl has been fed, as requested.” Cucumber bowed his head a bit and then, squinting, he focused a rheumy eye on Hollyhock. “I see the Milord has brought back a wife—” 

“No!” Sundance gave his head a hard side-to-side shake. 

“Well why not, Milord? Is she not of breeding age? It is quite obvious she is. And from the looks of things, the both of you have been busy. Has it been that long since you left, Sire? She looks fit to pop, Milord, so she is.” 

“She was like that when I found her.” 

“Right, Sire. Sure she was.” When Cucumber nodded, his neck popped, along with most of his spine. Turning about, he focused all of his attention upon the new mare and her two foals. After a few moments of intense scrutiny, his gaze settled upon the young unicorn colt, who clung to his mother’s foreleg. “Sire, I see I’ve been replaced by somepony a bit younger. At long last, I can retire to a life of luxury, so I can.” 

Upon hearing this, Hollyhock began giggling. 

“Some introductions are in order,” Sundance said to those gathered around. “But first, let’s go someplace dry and warm. I think I need some tea.” 

“I’ll see to that, Milord, and I think I’ll fix a cup for myself. It’s cold and damp, so it is.” 

“Do that, Cucumber. Take care of yourself. I’ll haul the sky truck into the barn and then I’ll meet you in the dining hall. Wait for me there. Earwax, Earwig, I’ll be needing to speak with the both of you. In private, if possible. I have a special job that needs doing.” 

“And we’re just the mares for that job,” Earwig replied. “I bet I know what that job is, and it’s gonna be a load of fun. Come on, you. Don’t just stand there gawping in the rain. Inside, you lot! Get a move on!”
> Talk over tea
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mama, it smells—” 

“Shut it, Amber.” Hollyhock shot her daughter a dark look to silence her. 

“But Mama, it smells bad—” 

“Yes, I know. This is our life now. Deal with it!” Realising she had lost her patience, the mare’s ears drooped and a guilty expression crept over her face while her daughter shied away. 

Cucumber, saying nothing at all, refilled Hollyhock’s teacup. Sundance, in a thoughtful mood, thought about everything that Hollyhock had just said, the story that she had shared. A more detailed version of what she had told to him upon their first meeting. Some interesting details had been revealed, including the fact that Hollyhock’s cutie mark played some small role in everything that had happened. A most curious cutie mark indeed; two hearts, one smaller, one larger, and it had appeared on the day when a young, idealistic Hollyhock decided that what she wanted to do more than anything else in life was to be a mother. 

Now, she was a mother with no means to care for herself. 

“So let me get this straight… for my own sake.” Hollyhock’s eyes lept from pony to pony as she studied their faces. “There’s no money here. No rent. No paying for food. Everything is just sort of… there?” 

“Currency is wholly evil, so it is. It corrupts the common pony, turns them bad. Brings out the worst in them. I saw that with the Separatists. The common pony has no business dealing with coin.” Cucumber set down the teapot, his gaze grew distant, and his expression became one of pain. “I’ve seen many laid low by lust for coin. In my life, and what a long life it’s been, I’ve watched good ponies turn bad ‘cause of greed and I’ve seen bad ponies turn worse, so I have.” 

“Like the previous Milord, Cucumber?” Sundance asked, already knowing the answer. 

The old retainer scowled. “The Milord has to be a special sort. He… he’s got to have moral fibre to face this evil, so the rest of us don’t have to. Us common ponies… this is not an evil we can face. It’s bad for us. A good Milord shields us… protects us from the corrupting influence of coin, while somehow resisting it himself. Not every Milord does so. But somepony has to take care of the barony’s finances.” 

Snorting, Earwig shook her head, made a dismissive wave with her hoof while turning towards Hollyhock, and then, after drawing in a deep breath, she said, “Life is simple. We work, we laugh, we eat, we sleep. That’s all there is too it. We do what must be done and we look after each other. We have a good Milord now, a decent fellow, so we really don’t have anything to fret over.” 

“Why thank you, Earwig.” 

“Milord, you’ve got my loyalty.” The big mare shifted a bit and rested her bulk against the table, which caused the wood to groan. 

“I take it the previous lord was a bad one?” Hollyhock asked while looking more than a little alarmed. 

“Aye.” Earwig nodded while making a disgusted face. “You’d be beneath him right about now, and he’d be huffin’ and puffin’ in yer ear—” 

“Earwig, that’s enough. Don’t scare the poor maid.” The old retainer focused his grim expression on Sundance for a moment, and then, the tendons in his neck creaking, he turned to look at Hollyhock. “Not every Milord is a good one, young miss. Our Milord brought you back whole of body. Safe and sound. You’d do well to remember that.” 

“He brought me home with three legs,” Earwax said while elbowing her sister in the ribs with her only front leg. “Count yerself lucky you came home with all four!” 

When both mares began to snigger, Sundance allowed himself a faint smile. 

“It’s a wonder that Earwax came home at all.” Cucumber’s wrinkly face sagged even more than usual and the old unicorn let slip a weary sigh. Bowing his head, he stared down into his earthenware teacup, sighed again, and his withers bowed as if a great weight settled upon them. “I wish I was still young enough to enjoy such a change in our fortunes. To be ruled over by a fair Milord is honestly the best we can hope for, so it is.” 

With Cucumber slumped over, Sundance sat up a little straighter. “Earwax, if you wouldn’t mind, could you show Miss Hollyhock and her foals the cottage where she’ll be staying?” 

“Sure thing, Milord.” 

“And Earwig, if you could stay with me a little longer…” 

“Right, Milord.” 

“Finish your tea, of course. No hurries here.” Sundance tapped on the edge of the table with his front hooves and wondered what his mother and grandmother would think about what he was doing. The eyes of two foals were staring at him in some curious sort of way that felt a bit judgmental. He needed to do something nice for them, something to make them feel welcome, but he had no clue what action to take. 



 

Sundance regretted what was coming, but knew what had to be done. It was time to be the Milord—time to do what was both necessary and right. Hopefully, he had the ponies loyal to him to do it. He was going to have to play this cool, but that was difficult because this was his first real attempt at widespread social manipulation. 

With Hollyhock and her foals gone with Earwax, it was now time to put his plan into action. But slowly. With caution. First, he would ease into it and make certain that he had Earwig on his side, and that she was okay with all of this. Here he was again, about to impose his will upon another, and he had to remind himself that he wasn’t doing this for his own benefit. Still, doing what he was doing filled him with unease. 

“Earwig, are you sure that you’re okay with these living arrangements?” 

The burly mare seemed surprised and she sat blinking for a few seconds before responding, “What?” 

“I just came home and said that a stranger would be living with you. In your home. You can refuse me, you know.” 

“But… but… but this is a big deal. The chance to have little ones underhoof once more.” A glimmer of cunning could be seen in Earwig’s eyes and her ears angled out forward over her face as her head tilted off to one side. “I know what yer up to, Milord, and I know why.” 

“And what am I up to, Earwig?” 

“You… ya just saved me sister, so ya know I’m loyal. You want that mare guarded ‘cause ya have yer eye on her, but ya want this conquest to be all sweet and romantic—” 

“No, Earwig.” Sundance felt bad for interrupting, but he was also impressed at just how canny this mare was. “It is true that I am exploiting your loyalty, but I want nothing to do with Miss Hollyhock. What I do want is for her to be off-limits. She needs to focus on sorting herself out and raising the barony’s future. I don’t want anypony taking an interest in her, no matter how pleasant their intentions.” 

Upon hearing all of this, the big mare seemed disappointed and she made her displeasure known. “You have that right, ya know. It doesn’t mean ya have to be rotten about it. You could be nice in that way that you’ve been so far. But if you did show a little interest in the young mares ya bring home, it’d be great for the barony. I get that yer the nice type, but that mare would lift her tail fer ya with just a few compliments.” 

“And that right there is why I want her guarded. Off-limits.” Sundance grimaced, pushed his empty teacup away with the edge of his hoof, and reminded himself that he had to hold himself to a standard that his mother would find acceptable—or else. 

“It’s been… a very long time since I’ve known an honourable pony,” Cucumber muttered to himself. 

“I don’t get it.” 

“Earwig, you don’t need to get it.” 

“I got that, I just need to do what the Milord says. But I still don’t get it.” 

Sundance took a deep breath and thought about how twistable his ears were. “Just keep the others away. Watch out for the little ones. Don’t let the little ones wander off to dangerous places. And keep the others away from our young mom. What I want is very simple.” 

“Right, Milord. I’ll have a quiet word with my sister.” 

“You do that, Earwig.” Sundance gave the mare a solemn nod. 

“Milord seems to have acquired a noble bearing.” Cucumber began to gather the teacups and set them upon a rather crude, rough-hewn wooden tray. “Rare things, noble bearings. Many Milords find a crown to rest upon their brow, and they strut around, thinking that it suits them… but in my long life… not many find a noble bearing to their liking.” 

“Thank you, Cucumber.” Sundance tapped on the table and thought about tea. “I fear that my peasants might turn to hooliganism, Cucumber. Our numbers are growing and we have young ones.” 

“Milord?” The old retainer’s bushy eyebrow lifted, but then it got tired and sagged. 

“A proper pony drinks tea, Cucumber.” Sundance gestured at the tea service that his retainer was gathering. “Tea keeps a pony civil. Keeps away hooliganism. I drank my tea daily and look how I turned out.” 

“Milord has some strange ideas, so he does.” Cucumber’s eyebrow made another attempt to crawl upwards. “Will ye pass a law, Sire? Yer word is the law of the land.” 

“Yes, actually.” The words lept from Sundance’s tongue and he felt good about them. “Every peasant is entitled to a proper tea break. At least one per day. Yes, we’ll institute teatime as the law of the land. I’ll do whatever is necessary to make this possible.” 

Cucumber nodded his agreement. “It might be nice, a mandatory cup of decency.” 

“All my other plans might take some time to happen, but I think I can make this happen sooner rather than later. I’ll just have to talk to the right ponies, I think.” The more Sundance thought about it, the more it made sense. Everything he had planned would take a while, but doing this, he could bring it to fruition right away. A sure sign of actual progress. “It’s a small measure, but it goes a long way towards restoring a bit of pleasantness to this place. A bit of civility in a cup.” 

Pausing, the thoughtful, pondering pegasus listened to the sounds of the light rain pattering on the roof. He had brought the rain home with him, as well as some much needed new blood for his barony. Overall, he’d done quite well, so he thought, and though he believed in himself, he did wonder what his family might think. His father, his mother, and his grandmother. 

Ultimately though, he knew that he had to rely upon his own judgments. Princess Celestia had placed him in charge; not his mother, his father, nor his grandmother. Him. Alone. The thought was quite sobering, or perhaps it was the gentle pitter-patter of the rain. The idea of being alone stuck with him; he couldn’t just fall in love or have a relationship with just anypony. He had to find somepony that would do right by the barony. 

Scowling, he wasn’t ready for such complications, at least not now. He didn’t want to think about them, mostly because he had never sorted himself out. It might be too late to get sorted out. He might just have to settle and do what was right for the barony while ignoring his own needs, whatever those might be. He honestly didn’t know. Here he was, confused about his own sexuality, and making judgments that affected another’s sexuality. Something about this didn’t sit right with him, but what could he do?

“Milord, are you troubled?” Cucumber’s concern was sincere. “Is the weight of rule bearing down upon you? Do you need yer owl, Sire? It’s a bit less weighty than a crown, so I reckon.” 

“I would very much like my owl. I assume he’s in my cottage?” 

“He is, Milord. I got him a branch to perch on and secured that to the wall.” 

“When I was a girl, my mother told me stories about how the land used to be.” Earwig rose into a standing position, shuffled beside the table, and her eyes turned unfocused. “She told me that once, there were sunflowers that went from one horizon to another. Down in the lowlands. Out beyond our box canyon. And owls were everywhere. That was our greatness. Our glory days.” 

Cucumber’s ears sagged. “I can remember those days, so I can. But only just barely. Before the war. Before the battle that brought us to ruin. I don’t know if those were our glory days. Stuff was run down even then. The shadow of war fell over the nation and… and… even before the war, that worry of war hit us hard. It’s hard to remember, so it is.” 

“But you can remember the sunflowers? What my mother said was true?” 

“Aye, I can remember the sunflowers.” Cucumber closed his rheumy eyes and his head swayed from side to side while his ears trembled. “Far as the eye can see. It was called the Sunflower Sea and you could walk for a day and never see the end of it. Those cursed rebels… they burned it. All of it. All those rocks out there on the slope… that all was a city. A town. All of Equestria depended upon our sunflower oil. Separatists left it all in ruins, so they did. We made our last stand in this box canyon… and it seems somehow fitting that our barony too, makes its final stand here. It’s all we have left, this foul-smelling cleft.” 

“We can rebuild.” Sundance was startled by the authority he heard in his own voice. “We can and will rebuild. We’re down, but we’re not out. I can’t do this alone. Cucumber, I know I have your support… as for you, Earwig, I hope I have yours. I need ponies I can trust.” 

“Like yer trusting me with watching over Hollyhock, Milord?” 

“Yes, Earwig.” 

“Milord, there’s nothing saying that you can’t have more retainers.” Cucumber’s eyes fluttered open and it took him a moment to focus his vision. “And us retainers, we don’t even have to be unicorns. Though that has been the tradition. There is nothing stopping you from proclaiming that Earwig and Earwax are also your retainers. Might upset the traditionalists, but what can you do, Sire?” 

Sundance’s expression became one of ardent shrewdness and all of his focus now rested upon Earwig, who seemed to be studying him with as much intensity as he did her. She was scared—he saw it plain as day—and that was a good thing. A little fear would give her caution, Sundance reckoned. 

“Milord, I would never tell you what to do, but if I may suggest… having Earwax and Earwig in charge would be a good thing, Milord. They know the land, they are loyal to you, so they are, and are still young enough that they are not addle-brained, like a certain unicorn I know. It would be wise, Sire, so it would.” 

“I need to think on this,” Sundance replied. 

“Discuss it with yer owl, Milord. The owls are wise. Always asking who.” Knees popping, the old unicorn rose to his hooves, wobbled a bit, steadied himself, and began to clean the table. 

“Earwig, I want you to think about this as well. Discuss it with your sister when you have a chance.” 

“Aye, Milord. It scares me something awful, but I’ll do it if I’m asked. I’m no shirker. Not when it comes to the important stuff.” 

Feeling as though he had accomplished something, Sundance nodded, but had nothing to say.
> A glorious day indeed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The classroom seemed far too large, or perhaps, Sundance was far too small. He couldn’t remember coming to school, yet here he was, sitting in class, surrounded by classmates who had indistinct, fuzzy faces whose details diminished if he tried to look directly at them. A tremendous wooden desk dominated the room; on the desk there was a pile of apples, one pear, a somewhat brown banana, and several stacks of books whose titles could not be made out. Behind the desk was a larger than life alicorn—a rather purple one at that—and she was busy drawing a diagram on the blackboard. 

When he tried to read the time, the numbers on the clock refused to come into focus. 

“Good morning, class,” the teacher-alicorn said without turning around to address her students. “Today we have a test. I hope you’ve come prepared.” 

Squirming in his seat, Sundance couldn’t recall studying for a test, and he wondered if he could somehow get out of class. Perhaps if he said his stomach hurt, or mentioned that he had the green apple splatters. Or maybe, if he was lucky, it would be a multiple choice test and he could fill everything in randomly. That usually worked out well enough and was enough to get him a passing grade—most of the time. 

“No, Sundance… you may not be excused. I know for certain that you do not have the green apple splatters. Now be a good colt, and don’t make me summon Principal Applejack.” 

Upon hearing this, the tiny colt whistle-whinnied in alarm and his stubby wings slapped against his sides. His classmates laughed; though he could not see their mouths, nor their expressions, he could hear them. Their laughter made his ears burn and his embarrassment left his face hot. Fearing that he might get sent home with a disciplinary note to present to his mother, he covered his eyes with his front hooves, tried to sit still, and wished for a state of nonexistence. 

“I am your Teacher-Princess, Twilight Sparkle, and today, there will be a quiz on the logistics of leadership.” 

When Sundance pulled his hooves away from his eyes, he saw that his teacher had turned around. She was looking at him in some vaguely avian manner, with her head tilted off to one side, and her piercing eyes seemed to be staring right through him. Guts clenching, he realised that he had no idea what the subject of today’s test was, and though his mother had never actually twisted his ear off, he feared that today would be the day when it finally happened. 

Yep, one of his ears was coming off, all for a lack of study. 

“You didn’t study.” The Teacher-Princess’ words were not a question and the way her brows beetled were terrifying to behold. She was larger than life, this Teacher-Princess, and it was a safe bet to assume that she had a dominating wingspan. 

Little Sundance could hear his classmates snickering. 

“A quick refresher… we can’t have you failing, Sundance. Your mother is a confirmed twister of ears.” Extending one wing, the Teacher-Princess pointed at the board. “We’ll start with a quick, easy question. How many farmers does it take to field one soldier?” 

“I… I don’t know,” Sundance blurted out in reply. 

“But this is such a simple, easy question. How could you not know? This is the starting question, the question from which all other questions originate from. Sundance, this is the beginning… the central hub from which all spokes of understanding radiate from to form the wheel of knowledge for this particular subject.” 

Ashamed, he repeated his initial response. “I don’t know.” 

“What does a soldier do?” Twilight asked, her tone one of supreme patience. 

“He fights?” 

“That was a question you gave me, not an answer.” 

“A soldier fights.” 

“Better.” Twilight’s brows unbeetled and her stern expression softened. “At least that was an answer. Yes, a soldier fights. He does not farm, but lives off of the labour of others. For the soldier to be a soldier, there must be a surplus of food.” 

“So you need a few farmers to field a soldier.” 

“A soldier needs weapons and armor to be a soldier. To properly outfit a soldier, you need a blacksmith. That is yet another pony who does not farm, nor does he have time to farm to support and feed himself. The blacksmith too, lives off of the labour of the farmers.” 

Thoughtful, Sundance began to rub his chin whilst he cogitated upon his newfound insight. A blacksmith was a big, burly pony that did a lot of work and would need a lot of food. As much food as the soldier, if not more. The blacksmith would also do more than make armor and weapons, the blacksmith would also make tools for the farmers—but to do so, the blacksmith had to devote all of his time to blacksmithing. 

“The blacksmith is nothing without iron,” the Teacher-Princess said to the thoughtful colt. “Iron does not magically appear. Nor does the charcoal the blacksmith needs to keep the forge hot. Mining and charcoal making are time consuming tasks. Hard work.” 

“And to make charcoal, you have to cut down trees?” Sundance pulled his hoof away from his chin. “To cut down trees, you need lumberjacks. Woodcutters. And those are ponies who can’t farm either, because they’re too busy.” 

“Correct.” 

“One soldier all alone can’t protect all of these ponies, you’d need a garrison of soldiers.” 

“Correct.” 

“Civilisation is complicated,” Sundance mused aloud. “How did it ever get started in the first place? How did it survive? It takes so much just to field one soldier, but once you have the support in place for just one soldier, you need an army to protect it. Which means you need more farmers, so you can feed the miners, the woodcutters, the charcoal makers, and the blacksmith. But… woodcutters, miners, and charcoal makers all need tools that the blacksmith makes, so these are things that can’t exist without one another.” 

“The algebra of survival grows ever-more complex.” 

Just thinking about all of it gave Sundance a terrific headache. 

“Now we begin our test… you have thirty-minutes to complete it… good luck.” 



 

Coughing, Sundance awoke with a start. The fire, what was left of it, was a crackling bed of coals. Wrapped in a woollen blanket—the one gifted to him by Silver Lining—he shivered a bit while he waited for his watery, itchy eyes to focus. He hated his hovel and would be glad when there was something better, something more civilised to sleep in. 

A few feet away, his owl was a fuzzy white-grey lump stuck on a stick. 

How many days had it been? He could no longer tell. It was easy to lose track. It had only been a few days since he had brought Hollyhock home and near as he could tell, she was adjusting. Her foals seemed happy enough, but they had no toys, no books, not much of anything to keep them entertained. This bothered Sundance, and as he lay there, blinking his eyes, he decided that today would be the day he did something about it. 

Rolling over, his bones ached in protest. He had tossed his itchy straw into the fire and let it burn. Sleeping on bare wood was mightily unpleasant and when he woke in the mornings, he felt old. It was cold enough to see his breath and he watched the curls of steaming vapour that rose from his nose. He had been dreaming, some awful, dreadful dream, but he couldn’t remember the details. 

Looking up, he could see dark sky beyond the hole in his roof where all of the smoke and heat from the fire escaped. No stars could be seen, but the faint rosy glow of dawn filled Sundance with hope—if the sun was shining, there would be warmth. Tears trickled from his watery, itchy eyes, and though it was quite cold outside, he was in desperate need of fresh, breathable air. 

It was time to face the day. 



 

Sundance was a majestic silhouette as the sun rose over his barony. He stood atop an outcropping of rock at the very top of the box canyon, waiting to greet the sun. Down in the box canyon, it would be dark a while longer—it took the sun some time to rise to just the right angle to shine down into the crevice—but there were already signs of life down below. 

Facing east, he waited for the soft kiss of the golden rays of light. Spreading his wings, he gave them a good shake, trying to rid himself of the itchiness that drove him to distraction. His stomach rumbled and he wondered what might be served for breakfast. The mush came in colours; yellow, brown, pale green, and colourless grey. Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot was how many days old? 

Great for loosening stubborn, stuck bowels, pease porridge, and it came out looking much the same as it went in. Whose bloody brilliant idea had it been to boil peas until they were gloppy mush? Since nopony was looking, Sundance gave himself a good scratch behind his ear with one hind hoof. Chilly shivers of absolute bliss paraded up and down the length of his spine as he gave that itch behind his ear a good what for, digging in with the hard edge of his hoof. 

In the distant east, the fires of dawn manifested between two peaks. Sundance ceased his scratching, raised his head, and his manner became solemn. The sun touched his land before Canterlot, and though he could not put his thoughts into coherent words, he felt obligated to greet his grandmother’s fiery, life-giving orb. 

Spreading his wings, Sundance dreamed of becoming the Guardian of Dawn. 



 

Heading westward, Sundance allowed the updrafts to carry him upwards and he flew in lazy circles as he gained the altitude required to approach Canterlot. He had an idea, a grand idea, and he planned to stop by the castle to act upon that idea. What he needed was a standard issue cargo crate, the crate designed to fit into the bed of his sky truck. With luck, he could pick one up for free. 

A pony had to be desperate to hope for what amounted to a wooden box. 

He needed tea, for operation T-Drop. There were little ones in need of toys, books, playthings. At some point, he needed to track down Twilight Velvet, whomever she was, and have a long talk with her about Hollyhock, but he wasn’t sure if that would happen today. More than anything, he needed a touch of civilisation again; civilisation was full of soft, pleasant things, and he desired those things a great deal. 

He hoped that there was money in his account, otherwise, all his plans would be for naught. 



 

Folding his wings, Sundance waited for the two armored guards to approach. The castle’s landing strip was nice, so very nice, and so much better than his own. It was a runway to aspire to. Perhaps even more amazing, the castle allowed the public to use the strip, as it was the largest, longest strip in Canterlot. 

“Hello fellas,” Sundance said as the two guards drew near. “Quite a nice morning.” 

“That was some kind of landing,” one of the guards replied in a rather brusque manner. “Tell me, why haven’t you joined our ranks? We need pilots.” 

“My landing wasn’t that special.” Keeping his wings tucked against his sides, Sundance fought against the urge to boast. 

“Bollocks.” There was a clank as the guard, an earth pony, drew himself to attention. “There was a diagonal shear and you touched down damn near sideways, hit the ground running, and your cart didn’t skip off the ground once. Not one fronkin’ bounce. I know who you are, Lord Sunfire, and I recognise that cart. What brings you to Canterlot, Lord Sunfire?” 

“Funny you should ask.” Sundance grinned and did his best to appear as friendly as equinely possible. “I came for supplies, but I was hoping that you’d have a spare crate. You know, the standard issue crate that fits into the bed of the sky truck and can be dumped out the back.” 

Both guards appeared quite surprised, and the second, a pegasus, tilted his helmeted head off to to one side. “Lord Fancy Flier needs a wooden crate?” 

“Yes I do. Do you have one to spare?” 

“We have mountains of them,” the pegasus guard replied. “Planning on hauling some goods? Need something weatherproof?” 

“Yes, actually.” This wasn’t exactly what Sundance had in mind, but it too, was a good idea, and he might have to return for a second crate, if the opportunity presented itself. 

“Well, we’ve got crates coming in by the bloody score, but we’re not moving many crates out.” The earth pony squinted and gestured at a distant group of buildings. “You’d be doing us a favour if you got rid of a few of them. You do know they have an interlocking design, right? You can carry one crate in a sky truck lying down, or two secured in side by side. But that makes a tall load. Not every pilot is comfortable with that.” 

Two? Sundance struggled to contain his excitement. “I think I’ll be fine. I’ll take two, if I can get them.” 

“Two it is, then. Come with me, Lord Sunfire.”



 

Calling them crates simply didn’t do them justice. Like everything else the guard possessed, these crates were overbuilt. Every corner, every edge, any place that might suffer an impact was reinforced with brass, and the body was constructed with cedar. Heavy brass hinges allowed two doors to swing open, revealing the inside. The doors had brass hardware that secured them and would keep them closed in any conditions, even a crash, as Sundance expected. These crates were made to survive, and had been reinforced for parachute drops. 

“We’ve got so many crates that we’re about to hold a surplus sale,” the earth pony guard said. “The brass and wood is valuable. Prince Gosling demands that the factory that makes these run night and day. Keeps ponies working and keeps those trade skills sharp. There is no finer crate in all of Equestria, and maybe the world.” 

“It’s just a crate—” 

“No, you knobhead, it’s not just a crate.” The earth pony turned on his companion and his eyes narrowed in a fierce manner. “Every crate you see represents a job. A job is what keeps bread on the table. Prince Gosling created an industry that satisfied a need. We get crates. Good ones. Certainly better than the splintery crap we used to have to make do with. And the workers get something in return. Pride in a job well-done. A paycheck. A future.” 

“Aye, I never thought of it that way.” Taking a moment to adjust his helmet, the unicorn then nodded at his earth pony companion. 

“I enlisted so I could get a scholarship,” the earth pony said, grinning. “I plan to go into economics. I’m told I have a good head for logistics. I might actually stay in the guard as a lifer. It’s not bad work, if you can get it.” 

Sundance nodded in an amicable way. 

“Say… speaking of logistics and the moving of goods…” A shrewd expression took over the earth pony’s face and his eyes fairly twinkled with intelligence. “The war has left a shortage of pilots. Need work, flyboy? I help manage work contracts—martial, commercial, and private. Canterlot functions as a central cargo hub.” 

“I could use a job, sure.” This day was turning out better than Sundance could have hoped for. “I’m busy today, but I can come back.” 

“Come back and see me. I’m Scram. On any given day, I have a dozen or more contracts. Bush pilots are in short supply. Dangerous work. Because of the shortage, it’s lucrative work. You’ve got the sky truck… those are rather hard to come by for private citizens, as they’re not for sale.” 

“So just drop in and ask for you?” Sundance asked. 

“Yeah, you do that.” Scram’s grin now had teeth. “Now let’s get these crates loaded up and secured. I’ll fill you in on the pay scale, which is wickedly complicated and works on a sliding scale of weight, difficulty, and danger.” 

“The easiest, safest jobs pay the least—” 

“Aye, you understand already.” Scram kicked his unicorn companion into action and there was a clank of metal against metal. “Make with the heavy lifting already. We don’t get paid to stand around!”
> Retail therapy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bank had a terrifying austerity that left Sundance breathless. Other banks he had seen were opulent places that showcased wealth. This place? This was a Crown-sponsored bank for the nobles. It was a fortress—with a stark, bare interiour. Not a hint of gold filigree anywhere to be seen. No expensive rugs. No marble counters. Guards wore armor with a subdued, matte finish. No chandeliers hung overhead. 

“Can we help you?” a middle-aged mustachioed unicorn asked. 

“Yes? I think?” Sundance wondered if he looked like a tourist, because he felt that out of place. “My name is Sundance. An account was supposed to be set up for me. Two accounts, from my understanding. I am the Baron of the Sunfire Barony.” 

“Ah yes.” The unicorn had a gentle voice that did not fit in with his surroundings. “I was told to expect you and that I was to keep an eye out for your arrival. My name is Pevensey. If you will come with me, I will be happy to help you, young Baron.” 

“Uh, Sundance will do.” 

“Of course. Young Baron Sundance.” Pevensey bowed his head. 

“Everywhere I go, ponies keep doing this to me. Always with the titles.” 

“Of course, Sire. The very best of us, we have a solemn obligation to take every possible opportunity to remind you of your position of public service. You have given the entirety of your existence for the betterment of society.” The unicorn’s mustache contorted a bit near the corners of his mouth as a solemn frown spread across his muzzle. “You serve others, so I am honoured to serve you, Sire.” 

“I never thought of it that way,” Sundance remarked. 



 

Pevensey’s office was a bit warmer, a bit more inviting. A sensible wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, some wooden filing cabinets, a lamp with a stained-glass shade sat on one corner of the desk, and the furniture was upholstered in a dark, somewhat sombre paisley print. At least, as dark and sombre as paisley could be. 

Sundance wondered if paisley would ever go out of style. 

As for Pevensey himself, the unicorn now wore silver wire reading glasses and was reading something kept inside of a pale blue folder. Sundance wondered what he was reading, but was too polite to interrupt. Clearly, whatever it was, it had to be important, otherwise there would be no point in reading it. 

“The worth of your personal, protected account is one-thousand, two-hundred, and thirty-seven gold bits.” 

Sundance suppressed a cough and then replied, “That’s a bit higher than I expected. I was expecting a thousand even.” 

With the soft rustle of paper brushing together, the folder closed and was placed upon Pevensey’s desk. The fastidious unicorn pressed his front hooves together, his thoughtful frown intensified, and he peered at Sundance over the top edge of his reading glasses. After a moment, the unicorn pulled his glasses off and rubbed just below his right eye with his right hoof. 

“You have a significant amount of debt, Baron Sundance.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Sundance found that he could no longer look the banker in the eye, and he stared at the wall just behind Pevensey instead. 

“If I may ask… what is it that you plan to do with these private funds?” The solemn unicorn cleared his throat and then continued, “This is not a question I ask lightly. Under normal circumstances, I would never make such an inquiry. I am mortified that I am required to stick my nose into your business in such a manner.” 

Nodding, Sundance sighed. “I understand. I plan to use my private account to run the barony. There’s a lot that needs done. To do that, I need money. Like today, I plan to buy stuff that is needed. Toys, books, dry goods, sundries. Whatever I can think of to make life pleasant for the ponies I’m responsible for.” 

“I see.” Pevensey’s voice was little more than a whisper at this point. “Commendable, young Baron Sundance. It is my most sincere regret that I must inform you that I must monitor your spending. It pains me to do so, as you seem like a pleasant enough fellow. Since you seem to be honest and forthright, I have decided to be upfront with you. If I may… I would very much like to see you succeed.” 

Sundance didn’t know what to say. He made himself look Pevensey in the eye and he studied the unicorn’s face, trying to read some measure of understanding from what he saw. Not much could be read; Pevensey’s face was a professional mask and his eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts. Even his frown was now a straight line hidden beneath his mustache. 

“Would you like to make a withdrawal to cover your expenses today? We offer several options… bank notes, hard currency, checks… even a financial note with funds matched to your account that only remains valid for one day. I am told it makes it easier to come to town to purchase supplies. Quite popular with a lot of the young nobles. Just show the slip of paper to the vendor and everything is taken care of.” 

“That sounds ideal. I think I’ll try that.” 

“Very good, Sire. The financial note will self-destruct as the sun goes down. I’ll have it drawn up immediately.” 



 

Something clunked around inside of Sundance’s cargo crates, but he didn’t know what it was, nor did he feel like stopping to have a look. Opening the crates would require more effort than he was willing to expend right now, such as finding a parking spot and then undoing the brass latches. Both crates fit together in the sky truck almost like puzzle pieces, forming a perfect five foot cube that had a snug fit in the bed of the cart. 

“Live! Tonight! Esmeralda Verde sings! Get yer tickets now before the show sells out!” 

The streets were crowded with ponies, many of whom wore weapons. For Sundance, this came as a bit of a shock, but he didn’t stand there gawping like some slack-jawed tourist. The cobblestones beneath his hooves caused his cart to rattle and clunk as he made his way through the congested, narrow streets. 

“Tonight only! Esmeralda Verde! Sapphire Shores’ beloved protégé! Get yer tickets here!” 

Casting his gaze from side to side, he kept an eye out for a toy store and a parking space. He was likely to find one—but not the other. That was the real trouble with pulling a wagon in a city like Canterlot. Parking was in short supply. Being unfamiliar with this city, he wasn’t sure what the local parking regulations were, and the last thing he needed was to be fined. 

Then, he saw the sign. 

Ye Olden Canterlot Shoppin’ Block: Ten Floors of Store! Free Parking! You’ll Lose Your Head Over Our Great Prices! 

It couldn’t hurt to have a look. 



 

It was less a store and more an indoor promenade filled with stalls, carts, small shops, and vendors hawking their wares. Two towers stood side by side, with bridges connecting them at various points, and there were five floors each. It was a shopping mall entirely unique to Canterlot, rising upward rather than expanding outward. The bottom floors were devoted to food, impulse buys, and a porter service of helpful ponies willing to haul your goods down multiple floors and out to your wagon. 

Sundance didn’t know where to begin. 

After a moment of thoughtful consideration, he decided to hunt for pillows, or a cushion. Something soft, but also rugged. He had the crate and now he needed the cushions to bring his clever plan to fruition. Of course, he needed other things, so if he saw those, he could stop to have a look. But pillows seemed like a good start. 

Looking around, he realised that this would not be a good place to find expedition-sized bricks of tea. He’d need another store for that, he reckoned. But he did spy candy. Lots of candy. It was everywhere, and, of course it was. This was the ground floor, the place where impulse buys lived. 

And then, as he stood in one spot, turning his head about, he saw them. Flight goggles. An entire wooden rack of flight goggles of every conceivable fashion. Smoked glass goggles, no doubt for the night terrors of Canterlot. Goggles with leather straps, for the bold and the fearless. There were visored goggles, with little visors that extended out over the top of the eye, and he was a bit dubious about the practicality of those. 

Since he planned to take a job—tomorrow, in fact—he decided that some goggles were a priority. He had to protect his eyes and his old goggles were at home, sitting in the bottom of his trunk. Shuddering, he tried not to think about what else was in his trunk. Or how his mother might be looking at it. 



 

It was not yet noon and already, so much had been accomplished. He had new goggles, some books, some toys, a long cushion that he knew would fit the five-foot length of a cargo crate, and some pillows as well. There was also the candy; so much candy, enough for everypony. Who didn’t like sweets? 

After he stowed his newly purchased goods in one of the cargo crates, he had himself a look into the one that rattled. It was dark in there, so he threw open the lid and almost crawled inside. Down in the bottom of the crate, which had the strong, pleasing scent of cedar, he found a half-dozen javelins. 

Each was a yard long, made of steel, and had strong steel tips on both ends. 

With them was a scrap of paper, which he had a bit of trouble fishing out. After a few failed attempts, he managed to scoot it into a corner with his primaries and then he scooped it out. Half-in and half-out of the crate, he read aloud the words scribbled on the wrinkled yellow paper, which appeared to be part of some sort of wrapper. 

“Don’t go getting eaten. The mountains beyond your barony are full of danger. Learn to fight. Scram.” 

Backing himself out of the crate, he wiggled free and landed on his hooves. Standing beside the sky truck, he said to himself, “Well, that was thoughtful.” He thought about the javelins and it occurred to him that these weren’t toys. These were weapons. Something for killing. 

What would his mother say? 

Mindful that he did not litter, he tossed the scrap of paper back into the crate and then set about closing everything. There were a lot of latches to secure, and each closed with a satisfying metallic clunk of brass against brass. Grinning, he admired the crate, and thought about how wonderful of a sleeping box it would make now that he had a few cushions. Maybe tonight, he’d be comfortable, and if he was really lucky, he’d be warm, too. 

The crate was just about the right size. Perhaps a bit snug, but a small space was easier to heat. He would stand it up, just like it was right now, and keep the bottom lid latched into place. The top lid he would leave unlatched, so he could push it open from inside and get out. It was a good size, or so he thought, being five feet long, five feet high, and two and a half feet wide. 

Just thinking about it left him excited to go to bed. 



 

Château Nouveau was alive with upset and it didn’t take Sundance very long to discover why. Ponies were reacting to the fact that the Dominator, Lady Pebble Pie, had been knocked from her lofty perch by one Lord Sterling Standard, of Sterling Gulch. Now there was almost a festive mood of sorts, for reasons that Sundance didn’t quite understand. All of this was still so new to him that he didn’t fully grasp the various ins and outs. 

It was easy to feel like an outsider; he remembered that he probably stunk of rotten eggs, and had been that way all day. Why, that might explain some of his interactions while shopping. Yet, nopony had made him feel unwelcome. He was just sort of there, a face in the crowd. 

“You look troubled.” 

Turning to face the pony addressing him, Sundance found himself eye-to-neck with a much taller stallion. Lean, with a few noticeable scars, the tall fellow was the colour of a fine glass of whiskey, perhaps, or some reddish-brown liquor. He also had something of a stink about him, something that was almost very like an open sewer. Though faint, it was definitely there and couldn’t be ignored. 

“I was just… well, I don’t know what I was doing, to be honest. I don’t know if I fit in here.” 

There was something almost effeminate in the tall stallion’s expression as his lips formed a thoughtful pucker. Yes, as his expression intensified, there was something unmistakably feminine about him, and this left poor Sundance a bit mystified. Combined with the scars and the confident bearing, the tall stallion presented quite a confusing puzzle to figure out. 

“Most of us here… we’re here because we don’t fit into society at large,” the tall, thin stallion said. “There’s just no other place for us, and somehow, we end up here. We’re the thinkers, the rabble-rousers, the eccentrics, the showponies, the grifters with golden hearts… we’re fighters, some of us, and others are pacifists. For whatever reason, we didn’t quite fit in with the rest of society, and, unlike those who settled to the bottom, we rose to the top.” 

“Did we?” Sundance asked. 

“I’d like to think that we did. Look around you.” The tall fellow tossed his head back, whipping his mane away from his face, and he gestured at the room around him. “Tell me, are these not the best of ponies? Look at the thankless work we do. Look how we labour to benefit society. Freaks, dweebs, eggheads, weirdos… all united with a common cause.” 

In silence, Sundance studied his earth pony companion. 

“I wasn’t born a noble…” The tall earth pony’s voice had softened a bit, but still had a fire to it. “In fact, I was born just about as far from nobility as a pony could get. I came to Canterlot one day, and it was awkward. I didn’t fit in at all. I didn’t talk right, or act right, and I was basically a hick. A lot of things happened. A whole lot of things happened. Bad things.” 

Blinking, the tall fellow shook his head. 

“My friend became a noble because of necessity, and he was terrible at it. Sadly, it didn’t suit him at all. He’s single-minded, he is, and he is quite focused on what he does best. For reasons I’ll never understand, I took to the nobility like a duck takes to water. They embraced me and made me one of their own. I did my best to be charming… I’m told I have a quaint southern charm… and I more or less just tried to treat everypony how I wished to be treated. It’s got me this far.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” 

“Oh, gracious!” The tall fellow let out a groan. “We’ve met before. Sort of. You crashed just outside the hospital. I’m Hennessy. My husband, Flicker, he sponsored you. The two of us were quite taken when we heard your story. It’s touching, really. We’re big fans of dedication and effort, he and I.” 

“Say… you wouldn’t happen to know where I can find an expedition outfitter here in Canterlot, would you? I need bulk goods. Tea, mostly. I need to haul a wagonload of civilisation out to my barony.” 

“As it just so happens, I know just the place. It’s by the docks. But you’ll need me to get you through the front door. They have a strict introduction system… it’s a sort of club… of sorts. They don’t sell to just anybody, but to actual adventurers. Rough and tumble types. Actual expeditions. They also sell the finest teacups and tea sets in all of Canterlot.” 

A blank stare overtook Sundance’s face as what he just heard didn’t make sense to him. 

“Rustic, the proprietor, he makes this marvellous floral-scented mustache wax… I swear, it’s like having your nose stuck in a flower patch all day… and it doubles as a fantastic lube. The heat and friction leaves everything smelling flowery.” 

Fearing that he might say something the wrong way and cause offense, Sundance nodded. It wasn’t that he had anything against being gay; far from it. For a time, he suspected that he might have been gay—and truth be told, still did, even with his attraction to certain types of mares. These were issues that he had never bothered to sort out and the evidence of curiousity rested in the bottom of his trunk in the form of a very confusing porn stash. 

Which his mother had no doubt seen by now.
> Bottoming out
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rustic's Expeditionary Outfitters was not the place that Sundance was expecting, but then again, what was he expecting? Upon entering, he was left frozen, transfixed to the spot by an enormous display of lace doilies, the largest, most humongous display of lace doilies that Sundance had ever seen. Also, the only the display of lace doilies he had ever set eyes on. 

“He doesn’t look very adventury. He doesn’t look like much at all.” 

“Shut your suck hole, Rustic.” Hennessy went stiff-legged and his ears stood straight up. “He just took over the Sunfire Barony. Give him time. Sure, he’s green, but he’s already making  a name for himself.” 

“Yeah, that landing that everypony won’t shut up about. So you’re that bird-brain that braved the storm.” Rustic cocked his head off to one side and the flamboyant unicorn studied Sundance, who was still frozen in place. “Mmm-mmm, somepony is taken with the doilies. Hennessy, you’ll finally have somebody to talk to about your collection.” 

It took some effort, but Sundance finally broke the spell that kept him fixated upon the doilies and had a look around. This place had… everything. Quite literally everything that might be needed on an expedition. Overhead in the rafters were canoes and kayaks, some of which had mounting hardware, no doubt to turn them into makeshift airships. Bolts of cloth, boxes of food, crates of rations, canteens, packs, saddlebags, outerwear, survival-wear, and things that Sundance—a city pony—had never seen. 

“Give him the discount, Rustic.” 

“No—” 

“Damn you, Rustic. Some of us are trying to make Equestria a better place. You know, the sort of place you fled to so that you could escape prosecution. So your cock-loving head would stay on your girly, deep-throating little neck.” 

“No.” 

“No? Rustic, don’t be a stingy asshole.” Hennessy drew himself up to his full height and towered over the outright effeminate unicorn. “I’m trying to set you up with a lifelong customer, you ungrateful limp-bottom!” 

“Fine!” Rustic rolled his eyes while backing away. Once he was a few steps back, he stopped, licked his teeth, and then turned an overly-attentive stare upon Sundance. “I’ll do it because he’s cute and with some luck, I’ll get to see him try some stuff on. I bet he’d look exquisite in flannel.” 

“Rustic, you sound like a tea kettle. I swear, it’s like steam escaping.”

“Speak for yourself, you lispy power-bottom!” 

“Both of you are too gay for words,” shouted a stallion from the back of the warehouse shop. “Get a room, ladies!” 

“Flicker doesn’t share,” Rustic whined while fanning himself. “Just thinking of him gives me the vapours. All those… muscles!” 

With no warning, Rustic sashayed off, shivering, biting his lip, his tail bobbing, and he vanished through a garish pink curtain behind the counter. Sundance watched him go, then turned to look at Hennessy, and found that his tall earth pony friend had also watched Rustic vanish. 

“I swear,” Hennessy whispered, “that’s the only stallion I’ve ever met that’s made me want to be a top. Now I have the vapours. Oh, I fear I shall expire.” Lifting one hoof, the tall earth pony fanned himself while breathing hard. 

Sundance took a deep breath. The air smelled—no, tasted—of something floral. There was also the scent of something spicy, something that was almost—but not quite—rum. Even the air was confusing in this place, a strange mix of feminine and masculine. While it was quite pleasant, it was also rather terrifying, as it brought up all of the confusion and doubt that he had suffered in school, the not-knowing. 

A well-coiffed unicorn approached, his eyeglasses flashing, reflecting the overhead lights, and he gave Sundance a good once over. Sundance, almost sweating, found that he couldn’t move, and even stranger, he didn’t mind how he was being studied. After a good look up and down, the bespectacled unicorn let out an appreciative hiss. 

“This is the best place in all of Canterlot to find a top.” 

Confused, a bit alarmed, Sundance stared down at the floor while he replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t quite catch your meaning.” 

“He doesn’t know.” The unicorn sidestepped a few times until he stood beside Hennessy. “Bad form, Henny. You know the rules!” 

“I thought he knew, honest—” 

“Thought I knew what?” Lifting his gaze from the floor, Sundance tried to ignore how his face was burning. 

“I’ve made a dreadful mistake.” Hennessy’s voice was quiet, a little squeaky, and nervous. 

“Henny, I’m not even sure if he’s gay.” 

Sundance felt the floodgates threaten to give way. Suddenly, he was in school again, confused, curious, and trying to be mindful of how he stared—and who he stared at. He had buried all of this, retreated to his room, and had escaped into the delightful fantasy of porn, because nothing about himself had made sense. 

“Oh, this… this is bad,” the bespectacled unicorn said, the first hints of panic manifesting in his voice. “Rustic! Quick, serve tea!” 

“What’s going on out there?” Rustic called out from beyond the curtain. 

“We have a confused sub that doesn’t know his north or south!” 

“Shit!” An unseen Rustic practically hissed out the word. “Directional crisis!” 



 

Life had funny twists and turns. Suddenly, without warning, Sundance was having an impromptu tea party with relative strangers, all of whom were as fabulously gay as could possibly be imagined. While he was rather uncomfortable with himself, he was quite comfortable with them, though for the life of him, he couldn’t possibly explain why. 

Not a word had been said about his sexual orientation, whatever that might happen to be, and what little that had been said had been small talk. Blessed, comforting small talk that drew attention away from his discomfort. Rustic was a marvellous host, Turmeric, the bespectacled unicorn, seemed okay enough, and poor Hennessy, he seemed to be torturing himself. 

Unwilling, or perhaps unable to look directly at his flamboyant companions, Sundance stared at a collection of sturdy pith helmets hanging on the wall. To admit that there might be some kinship here—some strange sense of fellowship—would be too much to bear. Yet, somehow, they seemed to know more about him than he did about himself, even if, perhaps, the initial assumption might be wrong. 

When looking at porn, Sundance had always fantasised about being the fronkee, rather than the fronker. It was his shameful secret. Stallions were biologically designed to be the givers, rather than the recievers. Yet, he found himself in the company of receivers, which he only knew existed because of porn. Confusing porn that he had spent too many hours looking at; not even pleasuring himself—just trying to figure out what was what. And why. 

“So, did you come to outfit an expedition?” Rustic asked while holding his petite, dainty teacup just beneath his fuzzy chin. 

Startled, Sundance drew in a deep breath and every feather on both wings stood out. Yanking his eyes free from the pith helmets, he glanced at his host for a few seconds, and then gazed at the teapot in the center of the table. “I wanted to do something nice for my peasants. They’ve had it bad. I thought maybe having tea every day might be nice for them. The living conditions in the barony are… they are… well, they are horrendous. But with tea, you just need boiling water, and we have plenty of that. It comes out of cracks in the ground, reeking of eggs.” 

Rustic licked his thin mustache with his tongue. 

“I need blankets,” Sundance continued, his voice almost cracking from the strain. “But blankets are expensive. I found some earlier, but they were really fancy blankets and I don’t think they would hold up. We don’t even have beds… just wooden shelves raised up off of dirt floors and straw. I tossed my straw into the fire, because it was itchy.” 

In silence, Turmeric nibbled a pink-frosted teacake. 

“A new peasant arrived… I’m still not comfortable calling them peasants. But she has foals. Two of them. And a third on the way. There’s no school. Those foals are dying of boredom. At night, they are cold, miserable, and they cry. I’m several cottages over, and I can hear them. They’re adjusting, I guess, and seem happy enough during the day, but the nights are hard, I guess. I know they are for me. I have to make things better, somehow.” 

“Those are expedition conditions,” said Rustic, almost murmuring his words. 

“How can the Canterlot Sub Gentlepony Club help?” Turmeric’s face was expressionless, but his eyes were warm. 

“I don’t know,” Sundance admitted to his tea-sipping companions. “There’s so much to do. I have ideas, but I don’t know where to begin. Right now, I’m just trying to accomplish the little things that can be done with the hopes that some momentum will help me move on to the bigger things.” 

“I got involved when he mentioned crying foals.” Rustic’s eyes darted to and fro and his ears splayed out sideways. “I heard too much of that just before I left home. I couldn’t do anything about it then, but I can do something about it now.” 

“You big sissy softy—” 

“Oh, stick a cake in it, Turmeric.” Rustic took a sip of tea, another, and then pulled his cup away. “We can help each other, my fabulously feathered friend. Oh gosh… look at me. I’ve just met you, and already I’m proposing.” He made a limp-fetlocked wave, tittering as he swung his hoof back and forth. 

Sundance sat up straight, shoved his conflicted emotions aside, and responded with, “I’m listening.” 

“You said boiling water comes up out of the ground, right?” Rustic’s hoof continued to swing from side to side, as if it were a pendulum. 

“It does.” 

“I have clients who would pay handsomely for the chance to, uh, rough it for a while. A little weekend getaway. They have very different standards about what roughing it is, but a luxurious wilderness retreat would be ideal. Especially one with a fabulous bathhouse fed by natural hot springs. Yes, a big gay bathhouse would be especially exciting. Stupendous.” 

“All that hissing, sounds like we’re sitting in a bathhouse already—” 

“Henny, don’t make me spank you.” Rustic squinted one eye at the earth pony for a moment, and then returned his attention to Sundance. “As a good faith gesture, I will supply your peasants with comfort and good cheer. Every month. As for you and I, a fifty-fifty split on profits seems more than fair. I’ll pay for the costs of building, the maintenance, everything. All you’ll have to do is sit back and collect rent—your half of the profits.” 

“That sounds almost too good to be true.” Sundance sat up a little straighter, rubbed the side of his neck with the knuckle of his folded wing, and stared down into his teacup while thinking about what had just been proposed. 

“If I did nothing but charitable acts, I’d go out of business in a hurry,” Rustic said, explaining himself. “But I can do charitable business ventures that profit me in some way and allow me to keep my doors open. I just bought a luxury yacht from a tax auction, and now I have a glamorous getaway. I can sell ponies a destination and the ticket that takes them there. Over time, I can keep making improvements to the bathhouse. Perhaps build a resort. The future is wide open. This helps you, but more importantly, it helps me so I can continue to help you.” The effeminate unicorn leaned forwards, smiled a warm, bright smile, and gave Sundance a flirtatious wink. 

“When it comes to business, Rustic is a top.” Turmeric waited, perhaps fearing reprisal, and when none seemed forthcoming, he continued, “He started this place with nothing. Quite literally, nothing at all. He somehow convinced a banker to give him a loan. I still don’t know how he did that. Then he went into business and he dominated in a way that subs typically don’t. Now, he’s a Canterlot institution. Every mercenary outfit that leaves the city, every university expedition, pretty much everypony outfits themselves here, at Rustic's Expeditionary Outfitters. Even the Royal Family does business here.” 

“I’ll not risk my good standing with the Royal Family to screw you over, so that might be the best assurance I can offer?” Rustic slurped some tea, waved his hoof a bit more, and gave Sundance a pleasant nod. “I can have my lawyer draw up papers but even before ink goes to paper, I can let you leave with everything you need.” 

“I accept.” Sundance hoped that he hadn’t just made a mistake. 

“A toast is in order,” Rustic said while raising his cup. “In the immortal words of the Canterlot Sub Gentlepony Club, bottoms up!”
> Homeward bound
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Will you be able to haul this kind of load?” Turmeric asked while he stowed the final few packages in an open cargo crate. The unicorn, the same colour as his namesake, made quick work of loading everything that Rustic had provided. “I’ve spread out the weight between the two crates, so neither side is too heavy. I’ve got a lot of experience in packing for expeditions. It’s actually what I used to do for a living, when I worked for Fillydelphia University.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Sundance replied, wondering if he would really be fine. This was quite a load and would certainly be a learning experience. “What made you come to Canterlot, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

A yard away, Hennessy groaned and tossed his head about. 

“I was young.” Turmeric paused for a moment, adjusted a package, and then turned his eyes skyward. “I was young, foolish, and had trouble saying no. I was a bit too submissive. My boss took advantage of that, and with me being so young and foolish, I let him.” There was a sigh, followed by some tongue clucking. “That’s the real trouble with being a sub. Saying no. To anything. It’s not in our nature to deny. I bet you have issues with that yourself, Sundance. I saw how easily you folded to Rustic. Would I be wrong if I guessed that you’ve said yes to everything asked of you so far, in regards to your barony?” 

Mouth open, Sundance went to reply, but choked on the words. He’d gone along with everything so far. Princess Celestia gave him a barony, and though he was a bit hesitant, he couldn’t recall resisting. When Silver Lining had visited, he had agreed to all of her requests. The very idea of saying no, of being disagreeable, of causing a scene or disturbance, it made him itch just thinking about it. 

“My former boss made the most wonderful promises,” Turmeric said, his eyes still skyward. “He was going to leave his wife, we were going to vacation in exotic places, and with me by his side, he was finally going to come out of the closet.” 

“What happened?” Sundance’s ears fell, apologetic. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

“I found out about his collection of subs.” Turmeric’s head turned and now he stared off in the direction of Canterlot Castle. “He made all of the same promises. Said all of the same things to them. All of them were young, confused colts, just like me. He preyed on us. Our insecurities. The fact that we had trouble saying no. I… I couldn’t even break up with him. For a time, I… well, I don’t know what I was thinking. A part of me thought if I could just be submissive enough, if I caved to his every whim, submitted to his every desire, if I could just make him happy, then things would work out. And he… he exploited that.” 

At this point, Sundance didn’t know what to say, and neither did Hennessy, it seemed. 

“I’ll not speak ill of Princess Celestia, because I know her, and she’s been kind to me, but I will say this, my beautiful, handsome, feathered friend… she chose you because you like saying yes. This isn’t a bad thing. At least, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Just don’t let it become a problem. You might not know your north or south just yet, but make no mistake, gorgeous, you’re like us.” For a moment, Turmeric’s expression was almost shy, and his smile was warm. “Princess Celestia looks after her stable of yes-ponies and she treats them well. She’s careful about mutually beneficial relationships. Others in Canterlot, not so much. Be careful, Sundance.” 

Rustic emerged, stepping out of the front door, and then he stood blinking while his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. When he did move, he didn’t walk so much as he pranced, a sashaying bouncy gait that made him seem lighter than air. He strolled over to where the others stood, came to a stop near Hennessy, and then turned his critical eye upon the sky truck. 

“It’s so pedestrian,” he said in a hissy, exaggerated lisp. Cringing, Rustic shied away from the cargo cart, and with his hoof pressed against his brow, he let out a dramatic sigh. Still striking a pose, he looked Sundance in the eye while his tail swished from side to side. “I’ll be sending Turmeric out your way in a few days to do some scouting. He has a good eye for these things. See that he’s not eaten by bears, will you? That would be ghastly.” 

“The barony isn’t really accessible at the moment—” 

“Oh, pish posh.” Rustic rolled his eyes and made a dramatic waved with the hoof he had held over his brow. “We fabulous queens have fabulous ways and means.” 

“That we do.” Turmeric smirked and then set to work, closing up the cargo crates and securing every latch. 

“Thanks… for everything… I mean it.” 

“Don’t be a stranger,” Hennessy said to Sundance. “And don’t be afraid to come to us for help. What are friends for?” 

“Yes.” Rustic hissed the word. “There’s nothing in the bylaws stating that you have to be gay to join our club. That would be discriminatory.” 

Whatever response Sundance had died in his throat. Being in the company of like-minded ponies appealed to him. He craved a sense of belonging, was desperate for it in fact, and though he tried to resist, his thoughts turned back to those confusing school years that troubled him. These weren’t the friends he expected, but he didn’t doubt that these were the friends he needed. 

“I still feel bad for the misunderstanding.” Hennessy approached, his long legs swinging with a smooth, effortless gait. “When I saw you standing there, looking all bewildered and lost, I just wanted to help. I thought about our first meeting… you risked your life to save another. So I thought maybe I could help you, because that felt right. You seemed so meek and quiet standing there. Not wanting to make a fuss. I get confused sometimes, and forget that submissiveness and being gay are two very separate things. This has happened before, actually.” 

“Yes it has,” Rustic muttered beneath his breath. 

After the confusing years of school, Sundance wasn’t sure what to think about the prospect of having friends. Not just any friends, but friends that understood him. Friends that were like him. It was exciting, but at the same time, it was also scary. Overwhelming. He had found like-minded associates… and now what? What came next? This was a relief, but it also filled him with anxiety. 

“We’ll have to get together. Have drinks. Hennessy doesn’t get many days off.” Turmeric kicked the sky truck a few times while his critical eyes looked over every latch. “I’m technically between jobs at the moment, but for now I work for Rustic and that’s not so bad. Might become a full time position.” 

“He’s worried that it will hurt our friendship.” Rustic rolled his eyes while making a dramatic wave. “As if. Once, Turmeric and I got into an argument. Have you ever witnessed an argument between two power-bottoms? Over thirty minutes of awkward silence followed by an apologetic spot of tea. It was dreadful and we haven’t bickered since.” 

“Oh, that’s not true at all—” 

“Turmeric, are you trying to cause a scene?” Rustic’s meek demand was met with shock. 

“Mercy, no.” Turmeric covered his mouth with one hoof and then shuffled about on three legs. 

“Point made.” Rustic sighed the words, smiled, and then blew a kiss at his troubled companion. 

“I’d like to get together.” Even as he said it, Sundance knew he wasn’t saying it to be amenable, it was something that he actually wanted. In fact, he felt downright starved for agreeable, understanding companions. 

“Good then.” Rustic brought all of his attention to bear upon Sundance. “We’ll keep in touch. I look forward to doing business with you. You’d best be getting home, because you don’t want to risk a landing in the dark.” 

“Good luck!” Hennessy offered, waving. 

“Toodle-oo!” Turmeric too, waved. 

“I can’t wait to watch you go.” With a flirtatious eyebrow waggle, Rustic waved goodbye. 

“Thanks again… it was great meeting you all.” Sundance wanted to say more, but what? Words eluded him. For now, this would have to be enough. If he had friends, and it seemed that he did, there would be time to say more later. “You guys are the best… really.” 

Rustic responded with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “Honey, don’t you forget it.” 



 

This was the heaviest load that Sundance had ever hauled but he felt that he was handling it well. Though it was considerable weight, Sundance himself felt as light as one of his own feathers; weightless somehow, and flying felt effortless. Getting off the runway had been tricky, it had taken him almost the full length of it, but now that he was in the air and up to speed, he felt as though he could fly to the distant horizon. 

Of course, doing such a thing would be folly. 

Flying with a load like this was tricky, because one couldn’t land just anywhere for a rest. Pulling a cart, a wagon, a sky truck, that totally changed the dynamic of flying; it changed the fundamental nature of a pegasus in flight. No longer was he free as a bird, no. Hauling such a load forced one to plan ahead. Such a thing restricted flight and made one be responsible, or else. 

For Sundance, his title as Baron was also a heavy weight in a sky truck. 

No longer was he free to come and go. The weight had to be planned for, accounted for. It had to be taken into consideration. Yet, it was not onerous. One had to know where the runways were located. One had to know one’s established boundaries, and then be careful to not push one’s self too far. One had to manage the weight, lest one crash. 

To stay airborne, all he had to do was maintain his forward momentum… 



 

When Sundance touched down, the shadows were long and growing longer. The runway held up under a hard landing with a heavy load and he could not help but be impressed with its construction. He was tired, his wing joints ached, but he felt good about everything. In fact, he felt better than he had in a long time. 

A few ponies had gathered to watch him land, including two curious foals, and he couldn’t wait to surprise them with nice things. Cucumber was coming, but he was slow and had a ways to go. The old retainer must have been busy when Sundance was first sighted. Sundance had himself a good flap, folded his wings, and offered his spectators a cool smile. 

There was no sense in unhitching himself, as everything needed to be hauled in still, and hauling it would be easiest while it remained in the cart. Turning himself about, he headed in the direction of the opening to the box canyon. First, he walked the length of the runway, his curious spectators following behind him, and then he ran into trouble when he left the smooth surface of the landing strip. 

Pulling a heavy load over the rough, uneven, grassy ground was harder than it looked, but not impossible. The sky truck had two wheels with a five by five square bed, and while it lacked the stability of four wheels, it at least balanced well enough. Turmeric’s careful packing probably helped. 

Looking down to both his left and his right, he saw that he had escorts: Amber Dawn and Lemongrass trotted double-time to keep up with him. He saw their curious faces looking up at him while he looked down at them and he offered them both a reassuring smile. More ponies were gathering now, craning their necks for a better look. 

“Cedar, good wood,” a pony named Stump said while he loped beside the cart. “Good wood, smells good, good smelling wood that is good.” 

Near the entrance, Rocky Ridge was casually punching away at the stone, smashing away chunks the size of a pony’s head. From the looks of things, she was working on a new terraced section for farming, and Floodgate was already hard at work on a water channel. Another pony named Acorn was plumbing out straight lines with a weight on the end of a string, and making marks to guide Rocky Ridge’s efforts. 

Busy earth ponies were happy earth ponies, from the looks of things. 

“Milord, you’ve returned.” Cucumber was almost breathless as he approached and he paused for a moment to suck wind. Each raspy breath seemed a bit more laboured than the last and he wheezed as his sides heaved. He did recover though, and after a brief rest, he seemed his usual self again. “Fallow Fields and Grimer Patch got it into their heads that they wanted rice, so they did. We’re carving out a basin that we can flood, so that rice can be grown.” 

“Good.” Sundance came to a halt. “Rice sounds excellent. Cucumber, I have… uh, stuff that needs to be passed out. Fresh blankets, sleeping mats, there’s candy, all kinds of stuff. See if you can scare up a few volunteers to see that everything gets distributed.” 

“Stuff, Sire?” Cucumber’s head almost tilted completely sideways and he stared at Sundance—almost unblinking—with both rheumy eyes. “Am I to understand that Milord bought us… stuff?” 

“This again?” Sundance snorted. “I said I was going to do it.” 

“And you’re just giving it to us? We don’t have to work for it?” 

“Cucumber, looking around me, I can see a lot of ponies working. I think that you’ve already worked for it.” 

The old retainer shook his head. “We’re supposed to work. That’s our lot in life.” 

“And I’m supposed to provide, that’s my lot in life.” Shimmying in his harness, Sundance began unhitching himself. 

“Well, yes, Milord, that is the agreement, but nopony really expects you to keep your end of the bargain, so they don’t.” Cucumber’s head leveled out, his lower lip quivered, and his limp ears did their best to rise to the occasion. “Nopony expected you to bring Earwax back, so they didn’t. Forgive me, Sire… but this… treatment… this kindness… why, it’s unexpected, so it is, and I think it might take some getting used to.” 

“No time for that, Cucumber. Daylight is a burnin’. I want the blankets and bedding sorted out before nightfall. See that everypony has a blanket and a pad. There’s food that needs to be put into dry storage, and perishables that I want put into the dining hall right away so they can be had with tonight’s meal. I picked up cookies and donuts—” 

“Cookies?” The squeaky voice of Lemongrass could be heard. 

“Yes,” Sundance replied. “Cookies, donuts, and muffins. I got the muffins because I figured not every pony likes sweets and muffins are nice with tea.” 

Free of his harness, Sundance allowed his cart to come to rest against the ground. He sat down in the grass, there wasn’t another place to sit, really, and the two foals sat down beside him. Their mother was a short distance away, from the looks of it she was chatting with Earwax, and Sundance was pleased to see his instructions being followed. 

“Can we help?” Amber Dawn asked. 

“Sure.” Reaching out, Sundance booped her on the nose, which made her giggle. “It’ll be your job to make sure that nopony does without. You can follow Cucumber around and pay attention to what he does. Listen to everything he says. Talk to ponies and spread good cheer.” 

“Okay.” The little grey filly nodded, thoughtful, and then she glanced at her brother. “Don’t mess this up.” 

Scowling, the smaller colt glared up at his big sister, but said nothing. 

Sundance allowed himself a bit of time to rest and looking up at his retainer, he said, “It feels good to be home…”
> Sun setting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was only when Sundance examined the door did he realise that a mistake had been made. After concluding that he had fronked up, he stood there, agape, hating himself and everything about his life at the moment. The door was maybe, at most, about a yard tall, and he had to duck his head to enter. The crate he had brought home, his hopes and dreams, his fondest, most achievable wish, stood five feet tall. This squat door was wide enough to fit the crate in sideways, but not tall enough. Not at all. 

“If I might ask, why does the Milord want a box in his humble abode?” Cucumber, who had carried the crate over, held aloft in his telekinesis, was now taking a moment to rest. 

“To sleep in,” Sundance replied, thinking nothing of his answer. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do and he had long wanted a sleeping box—but affording one had always been the issue. Now, he had one, only to be thwarted by a door. 

“Am I to understand… that the Milord wants a… a, uh… am I to understand that the Milord wants a birdhouse for himself?” 

With a turn of his head, Sundance leveled a deadpan gaze upon his retainer. No sign of laughter, no smirk, no nothing; somehow, Cucumber hid all evidence of snark and was wearing his own deadpan-armored expression. It was, without a doubt, one of the most impressive performances that Sundance had ever witnessed from another pony, and he doubted that even the most gifted, most blessed comedian could do as fine a job of playing it straight. 

“Cucumber… that’s tribalist.” 

“Begging yer pardon, Milord. I was just calling to attention the fact that the Milord seems to want to sleep in a birdhouse, so he does, and I was trying to figure out how I could help the Milord achieve this noble nesting effort, so I am.” Not a smile, not a smirk, not once was Cucumber betrayed by laughter. 

Nearby, a Greater Equestrian Screaming Owl shrieked horrorshow bloody murder. 

Now, with his feathers ruffled and his heart flippity-flopping against his ribs, Sundance faced down his magnificent retainer. “The Milord is a bit disappointed with the resident unicorn, as this unicorn has failed to magic up a solution.” 

Left eyebrow twitching, Cucumber’s limp ears made a valiant effort to stand at attention. “What the Milord wants is a miracle, and for that, you’d need an alicorn. This goes beyond what us common salts can do, the resident unicorn says to his most understanding, most gentle, most benevolent and understanding Milord.” 

Turning away from his retainer, Sundance glared at his hovel. This was the hovel’s fault; the hovel hated him and was actively attempting to thwart whatever small happiness that he might muster. It was smelly, smokey, left him itchy, and the open hole in the roof let out all the heat. This hovel symbolised everything that was wrong with this place, everything he needed to fix. A short, squat, round dwelling, with low walls, and a conical sod roof. He couldn’t even stand up straight in there, not unless he was almost standing in the fire, because he’d hit his head against the sloped ceiling made of roots. 

Then, with crushing disappointment, his hopes dashed against the rocks, Sundance realised that his crate wouldn’t fit inside, even if he somehow got it past the door. What had he been thinking? He wasn’t the smartest of ponies, and this blunder just highlighted this fact in the most humiliating way. Even worse, he didn’t have the luxury of being upset, or raging, or having any sort of reaction at all, really. His peasants were watching; even worse, two little foals were watching his every move, which required him to be an adult about this. 

Grasping at the final glimmer of hope, Sundance eyeballed the dining hall. It had a tall door—a door made for Princess Celestia and her horn, so she wouldn’t have to bow her head when entering. It was not ideal, but it was a solution. As a temporary solution, it might work. Would it be a bit awkward? Yes, yes it would. But it was dry in there, almost modern, and that fact alone made up for any awkward moments. 

“Shall I move the Milord’s birdhouse into the dining hall?” Cucumber asked. 

“Is it that obvious?” Squinting, Sundance studied his retainer’s face, searching for meaning among the wrinkles.

“We are of hearty stock, Milord. We’ve had a lifetime of doing without, so we have. There’s no shame to be had in what yer doing. A lot can be said about the fact that the Milord thought about our comfort as well as his own. There’s a sort of nobility about that, so there is.” 

“I need a good night’s sleep.” Sundance found himself trying to justify his actions. “I’m taking a job tomorrow. I don’t even know what it is, yet. But a job to pay for our expenses. I need to be well-rested, so I can do whatever the job asks of me.”

“Milord… you took a job… to support… us? It is our job to support you, so it—” 

“Cucumber, don’t start.” Sundance held out one wing, primaries extended in a ‘halt’ position. “Yes. I took a commoner’s job. Or I will be. Tomorrow. I’ll be doing delivery work. Whatever contracts I can get. Whatever I get paid benefits the barony. Our barony. I’m just the management, Cucumber. Let’s be honest, this barony is owned by the ponies who live here. I’m doing my part, just like you’re doing yours.” 

“Very well, Milord. For the good of the barony, I’ll be moving your birdhouse into the dining hall.” There was no hint of mirth on the old retainer’s face, but there was something to be seen in his rheumy eyes. “I’ll remind everypony that this is only for a time, until the Milord can have a proper dwelling built. Nopony will begrudge the Milord for needing a proper rest so he can do his job.” 

“Thank you, Cucumber. Now if you will excuse me, I need to remedy the fact that my head is currently owless.” 



 

Here in the Sunfire Barony, the darkness was a living, ravenous thing. In the city, darkness could be found, but only after a great deal of searching, but it wasn’t the deep, inky darkness that could be experienced here. Sundance waxed philosophical about it as the light retreated and the shadows came alive. 

In the city, one could barely see the stars. The smog and the city lights mutated the night sky over the city of Baltimare into something that was almost opaque. There, the night wasn’t so much the opposite of day as it was a shift. Because ponies had to go to work, the streets were always busy, always bustling, and street lamps held back the encroaching darkness. 

But here, in this place, the dark majesty of night held court. Electric lights did not exist, only candles, lit fires, and torches. These did not drive the night back, but rather, offered tiny islands of illumination in a sea of impenetrable, terrifying darkness. Much to Sundance’s surprise, he was somewhat afraid of the dark—and he suspected it was because he had never truly experienced it, living in the city as he had. 

He was distracted from his thoughts by a nip on his ear. Not a hard nip, not painful, it was more of a nibble, really. The little lump of fuzz sitting upon his head was becoming a bit more active as night approached. All of the owls were. They were hooting now, and some of them screamed out their random yells of murder most fowl. 

“Are you an Artemis?” Sundance asked in a low voice. 

It felt good to put some of his so-called useless schooling to use. Learning some of the old speech as an elective had been utterly useless so far. He had done it because the class was largely empty and it gave him time to finish his homework while still in school. Yet, he still paid attention and somehow achieved high passing marks. How? He wasn’t sure how. 

“A long, long time ago, Princess Luna had an owl named Bubo. She made him a general and he led an army of owls that razed a city. They dropped lit pitch torches and burnt the city to the ground.” 

“Who?” was the reply from the owl, who stopped nibbling on Sundance’s ear so that it could respond. 

“Bubo, that’s who. But I don’t think you’re a Bubo.” Sundance felt the prickle of claws against his scalp as his companion moved about. 

A bobbing light could be seen in the distance; Cucumber was doing his evening rounds, making certain that every fire was lit. Lemongrass dutifully followed after the old retainer, and Sundance could hear the colt chattering at the old unicorn. Frogs and crickets began their nightly chorus. The long shadows were now fingers, grasping at the last, final vestiges of the retreating light. 

“I must be going mad, because I swear, it’s like I know what you are thinking,” Sundance whispered to the owl perched upon his head. “I keep getting these weird flashes of… insight? What’s going on and why are you in my head?” 

Down below him, Potato and Sauerkraut Pie sat together and were discussing what meals would be served tomorrow. No surprise, something mushy for breakfast, followed by some form of soup or stew for lunch, followed by something hot and brown for supper. Naturally, Potato wanted something with potatoes, and Sundance was certain that the poor mare would do nothing but eat potatoes if left to her own devices. 

One very brave goat remained out in the open, nibbling on the grass, a final snack before bed. It was easy to see how pastoral bliss could be mistaken for boredom; this was not an exciting place, but it was not entirely without its entertainments. The juvenile owls were running amok through the gardens, no doubt searching for vermin who lurked under the cover of darkness. 

“You’re not like the others, are you?” Sundance sensed something, but had no idea what it was. “I don’t think you’re a late bloomer. No, there’s something different about you. My grandmother, she told me stories about pegasus ponies that can talk to animals. She also told me about special animals, smart ones. Birds especially. I thought she was telling me stories.” 

The owlet hooted. 

“I thought the story of Princess Luna’s owl, Bubo, was just a story too. How could owls be smart enough to burn down a city? Seems crazy. I know magic exists, but there’s a lot of mythology, too. Tall tales. It’s hard to tell what’s what, sometimes. But there’s a reason why you’re here with me and not with your fellows… and it’s not just because you’re a late bloomer.” 

“Lemongrass! Come to bed! It’s getting dark!” 

Pensive, Sundance continued his thinking aloud. “You’re not a late bloomer because there’s more for you to learn. Right? You’re listening to every word I say and trying to sort them out. I can tell. It feels like I am going crazy. I wish my grandmother was here, because she could tell me what was going on. She has magic. Not just the usual pegasus magic, either. My mom has magic… she has… The Stare. I don’t know if I have magic, but here I am, talking with an owl.” 

Far to the west, beyond the majestic Canterhorn, the fiery orange glow died. Now the sky was ablaze with pinks, purples, and blues. Overhead, the curtain of night grew a little darker, and more stars twinkled into existence. Tilting his head back, Sundance thought of his grandmother and her stories. She had told him about feral pegasus ponies, brutes that hunted, cooperated with wolves, howled at the moon, and ate meat. As a foal, these tall tales scared him silly, and his grandmother spared no gory details. 

His eyes lept from star to star, watching as they winked into existence, and he smiled. No such feral savagery existed in his heart. He was a quiet pegasus from the city, a tea-drinker, occasional thrill seeker, just a pegasus trying to figure out the bewildering complexities of life. Too much of life made no sense, which left it a mystery. 

“I shall name you Alister, or should I say, Owlister.” There was no sense of worry, fear, or doubt when Sundance said these words. This felt right somehow, as if it were meant to be. “Your kind lost their home, their tower. I have to look after them too. I am their baron as well, and I suppose they are my subjects. Look at them… look how they do their part. They’ve fallen on hard times with us. You and I have to restore our shared former glory. Plans and dreams, Owlister, plans and dreams. We’ve much work to do. But for now… I think it’s time I go to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow.” 

Casting his gaze westward, Sundance waved farewell. “Goodnight, Sun. I shall greet you with the dawn. When next we meet again…” Tired, he did not finish his sentence, but yawned instead. Weary, he could not wait to retreat to his brand-new birdhouse.
> Sky or die!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in quite some time, Sundance awoke well-rested. The crate wasn’t exactly spacious, at least in width, and he didn’t have room to kick his legs out. That didn’t matter though, as he was quite comfortable curled up and he had plenty of room to stand up unimpeded. It was warm in here, far warmer than Sundance thought it would be, and the pleasant, fragrant reek of cedar tickled his nostrils as he gathered his senses. 

His mouth falling open, he yawned. 

“Forgive me, Milord, but it is almost dawn. Breakfast must be served.” 

Sitting up on his haunches, Sundance smacked his lips, wished he had a cold drink of something, pushed open the lid, and poked his head out. How did Cucumber know when to wake up without an alarm clock? The old unicorn’s horn was glowing with glittering, steady light while he moved about the room, preparing the dining space for breakfast. 

“Oh look, the early bird emerges from his birdhouse, so he does.” 

“Say what you will, it’s comfortable,” Sundance replied. 

“Too much like a coffin, Milord, so it is. Plus, I don’t much like the stink of my own farts. I’d rather they go up and out the chimney.” 

Though he tried to fight it, Sundance found himself chuckling. With a supple, lithe movement, he slipped out of his bed box and began to stretch his legs while also flapping his wings. Not as many pops, cracks, and creaks this morning, which was a good sign. When all of his joints were sorted out, he gave his neck a good twist from side to side, and delighted in the pleasurable tingles that bebopped down his spine. 

“What’s for breakfast, Cucumber?” 

“Oatmeal… but with some of that dried fruit you brought back, Milord. That strange, weird fruit.” 

“Oh, the pineapple?” 

“I reckon so, Milord? I don’t recall the name. Pure sugar, so it is.” 

“In oatmeal?” Sundance’s head tilted off to one side and he folded his wings against his sides. “Eh, whatever. It’s food. What’s the weather like outside, Cucumber?” 

“Sire, it is dark, but if our luck holds, we’ll be blessed with rays of sunshine. I expect the dark to return though. Sun comes and goes, but the darkness is eternal. Such gloomy weather, so it is.” 

Pressing his lips together, Sundance scowled, but only to keep from smiling. 



 

In what he felt was sure to be record time, Sundance made it to Canterlot. Now he circled, waiting to land. There were lots of other sky trucks out, and dozens upon dozens of chariots, all waiting to touch down. Several flight controller pegasus ponies shepherded the traffic, and kept a watchful eye out for anypony too tired to keep circling. 

That was the issue with hauling any sort of cart, wagon, chariot, or sky truck. Speed had to be maintained; fly too slow and down you go, as the old adage went. One could not do much gliding, so this was a constant, endless effort for as long as one was airborne. Circling was taxing, but Sundance was grateful for the workout. 

Down below, an intricate song and dance number played out, with pegasus ponies landing even as other pegasus ponies were taking off. It was as graceful and complex as any song and dance number in the theatre, and required an exquisite attention to detail. When the wind picked up a bit, Sundance banked into it so that he could maintain his current flight path, which had him keeping pace just behind a fully loaded sky truck that was identical to his own. 



 

Touchdown was utterly uneventful with nothing exciting happening at all. Sundance cleared himself from the runaway, remained aware of everything around him, and followed the instructions of the ground traffic director. Yesterday wasn’t so bad, but today, for some reason today was hectic and everypony was stressed. A bad mood was in the air and being a creature possessed with powerful herding instincts, Sundance could not ignore it. 

“Say, would you happen to know what’s going on?” he asked of a passing guard. 

“Move along—” 

“Look, I just wanted to know if I came at a bad time. Scram was expecting me.” 

“If you must know, last night we got in a delivery of corpses from the front lines. Now we’re shipping them off to their families, so everypony is on edge. Our brothers and sisters came back, some of them unrecognisable and hacked to pieces. It’s put us in a bad mood. You’ll find Scram at Supply Depot Three. Avoid Depot One at all costs, you might get detained. Mind the orange cones. Now move along.” 

Stunned into silence, Sundance moved along and was mindful of the orange cones. 



 

Supply Depot Three had a lot of goods being moved into it, but Sundance doubted they were corpses. A great many wooden crates—identical to the ones he possessed—were being hauled into the brick building with the dull tin roof. Earth pony guards moved in neat, orderly lines, leading to the feeling that this was all somehow orchestrated by some unseen conductor. 

“What luck,” Scram said upon spotting Sundance. “Yer Lordship showed up on a black day, a black day indeed. Never you mind the pall, Lord Sunfire. Come looking for work, have you?” 

Sundance could not help but notice that Scram’s mood seemed a bit different today. Or perhaps not, it was difficult to tell. Up on the roof, somepony shouted, there was a groan of machinery, and then with a lot of clattering, the roof split open, the two halves spreading side to side. Agape, the awestruck pegasus stared. 

“Airship’s coming in so we can ship rations out. I don’t like the new rations, they’re vile. Tastes like they’ve already been eaten and shat out.” Scram wore the weary expression that only a career soldier had, and he made a broad sweeping gesture with his hoof. “Not a buckethead I know that delights in dehydrated cabbage flakes and turnip cubes. Not a one. Disgusting, that’s what it is. Right. Now what sort of job did you come looking for?” 

“I’ll take whatever pays well,” Sundance managed to say after pulling himself together. 

“A real go-getter. Well, as luck would have it, I have a crate of medicine that needs to be dropped off in the Froggy Bottom Bogg. Now, before you have yer say, understand that there are no runways. There’s no putting down in the Bogg. And the delivery involves intentionally crashing, and then recovering, before you drop your package.” 

Sundance shrugged. “Tell me more.” 

Scram’s eyes narrowed. “I think I’ll be getting you some brass polish for Hearth’s Warming. Right then. The crash zone will be marked by colourful flags in a circle. That’s the thin place in the tree canopy. Now the trees of the Bogg, they’re a bit odd, as they don’t like the sun shining on their roots. So the canopy never stays open no matter how many times it’s trimmed.” 

Listening, Sundance nodded so that Scram would continue. 

“Once you crash through the canopy, you’ll find yourself in a narrow flight path. No room for errors. A bit of a tight fit. Tighter than a schoolfilly’s cunny. You’ll have a hundred feet at most to recover, and not crash into the murk. Fly through the long, narrow gap, and you’ll see a hillock covered in shacks and what not. That’s your target. As you fly over, kick the release on your cart, shimmy the crate loose, drop the package, and pull up like your life depends on it, ‘cause it does. The narrow gap between the trees ends and you have to crash your way free through the canopy. Think you can do that, flyboy?” 

“Yeah… I can probably do that.” Sundance felt a cold prickle of doubt and wondered if he could actually do it. “What am I hauling?” 

“Medicine for hoof rot. It’s been a while since they’ve had any. The last pilot, well, he failed spectacularly. Crashed right into a tree. Got his skull lodged into his pelvis. Was the damnedest thing I’d ever heard about. Now, don’t you go doing that. The Big Bird would go off her teats if you crashed and I’d catch a lecture. Now, I’m not keen on that, so don’t do that to me. Aye?” 

How did one manage to get one’s skull lodged in one’s own pelvis? Sundance shuddered and struggled to recover his shaken confidence. “Aye aye, I can… I can do whatever needs to be done.” 

“A real go-getter. Lookit you. Right, now pay attention. You’ll be flying due south out of Ponyville. Keep an eye out for flags. They’ll be markers along the flight path. Like I said, look for the ring. Now… would you like to make a bit of extra money? Smart fella like you, I’m thinking that you would.” 

“What else am I hauling?” Sundance asked, playing it cool. 

“Nothing illegal, mind you,” Scram was quick to say in response. “Certain items are hard to get in the Bogg. And being the clever pony I am, and I am a clever a pony, let me tell you, I use opportunities like this one to deliver some goods.” 

“That doesn’t tell me what I’m hauling… or if it’s actually legal.” 

“Smart feller, like I was saying.” Scram coughed, glanced around, lowered his voice. “Nothing illegal, I promise. A small cask of brandy, a bale of fine pipe tobacco, a sheaf of grotty skin mags, and a ten pound tub of lubricated condoms. All which will also ride in the crate with the hoof medicine.” 

Grotty skin mags? A ten pound tub of lubricated condoms? What did these ponies do in the swamp, anyhow? Thinking about it, grotty skin mags were a luxury; why, his own peasants had to draw their own lewds. They had no glossy centerfolds. What would his peasants do with grotty skin mags? Sundance could only imagine, but he suspected that no work would be done for a week or more while certain peasants secreted themselves away inside their thatched roof cottages. 

“Look, there’s extra room in the crate, and not filling it with goods would be wasteful.” Scram now wore a shrewd smile and his eyes fairly gleamed with delightful mischief. “We both make a bit of extra money by making use of that space. We do have to keep this off the books though, or else we’d get our assholes royally reamed by the Night Lady herself. Well, I would. You’re not enlisted, but good mates stick together, eh?” 

“Just so long as I get paid. I’m as loyal as money can buy.” 

“Right then, that’s a smart pony.” The enterprising earth pony glanced around, his eyes shifty, and after a few moments of indulging his paranoia, he nodded. “I prefer dealing with mercenary types, money being the motivator that it is. Come with me, flyboy. Bureaucracy awaits and then we’ll have you back up in the air. Been a real pleasure.” 



 

Behind him was a bright yellow crate, made of some material that he was unfamiliar with, but probably some kind of plastic. Waterproof, designed to float, and with a registered monster bite resistance of three, it would survive being plopped into the swamp if something happened. All kinds of things might happen. He might crash into a tree and get his skull lodged in his pelvis. 

That was a thing that could happen. 

Below him, Ponyville stretched out in all directions, a vast sprawling city that also doubled as a bedroom community for Canterlot. Twilight’s spired library castle was the largest structure in the city, rivaling even Canterlot Castle for size. Paved streets were packed with traffic, considerable traffic, and Sundance pitied anypony stuck on the ground. 

At some point, he was going to have to visit Ponyville to make some friends. 



 

The postal pylon was a tall, almost whip-thin rod of metal with a somewhat tattered bright yellow flag on the tip. Sundance had seen these before, and recognised them; they marked flight paths for the Royal Equestrian Mail Service, markers along a route so that new mail carriers could do their job. 

And what a job they had. Delivering mail was something of a dream job and Sundance had considered a position. The experience was the tricky bit; at least the Baltimare branch demanded some considerable experience, which left him working as a medical supply courier for the foreseeable future. 

To fly with the Royal Equestrian Mail Service, one had to be brave, a daredevil. One had to be able to fly in any condition, any weather. The job was risky, as one could get eaten. Mail ponies, it seemed, were delicious, delightful snacks. Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, or even hankering, hangry hydras stayed these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. 

Sundance went blasting past the first postal pylon doing about ninety. 



 

After a great many postal pylons, Sundance found the circle marker. Beneath him, multicoloured flags fluttered, a veritable rainbow of cheer flapping in the breeze. The canopy was a living mass of tree branches, clumps of moss, and what appeared to be crash debris. Other pilots had tried—and failed. Sundance came to deliver, and he would not be stopped by the common tree. 

Or so he hoped. 

Circling a few times, he studied his approach, and even found an arrow showing him his direction of approach. Thin ribbons of smoke found their way up and out of the canopy. Was this somepony’s fiefdom? It might be. Swamps were valuable in their own way, with raw alchemical ingredients and whatever else swamps produced. Perhaps a young baron could be found below, trying to make ends meet. 

Banking into his turn, Sundance began his run. 



 

He had slowed too much, hoping to reduce the severity of the crash through the canopy, and this might very well be his undoing. Hitting the treetops had been a bit scary, and it felt as though long, boney, skeletal fingers had clawed at him. But now, he faced real terror, the true terror, as he was about to crash into the swamp. 

Flapping his wings, raking and slashing and clawing at the aether, he tried to recover lost momentum as the murky, bubbling green goo rushed up to meet him. The stench made his eyes water, and with his goggles on, he couldn’t wipe them to clear his vision. He found himself in a canyon of trees, a narrow canyon indeed—there were no words to do it justice as to just how narrow it was. 

Scratched, bleeding in several places, Sundance flapped for his life, scrambling, struggling to pull up in the scant one-hundred feet or so he had to work with. Suddenly changing directions with a load was almost impossible, and he wasn’t sure if he would fly away from this one. Tin roofed shanties built on rafts floated in the muck below and smashing into one of them seemed a very real possibility. 

He wanted to  go forwards but the sky truck insisted on pulling him down. 

It was now do… or die. 

Summoning all of his strength, Sundance dug his wings into the air and began scaling it as though it was a vertical cliff face. He was gritting his teeth so hard that it felt as though they might all shatter from the strain. His gut muscles burned with strain and he could feel the blazing agony of effort in every fibre of his being.  

One wheel dipped into the green goo and this was almost his undoing. The sudden drag and resistance was almost enough to arrest the momentum from his recovery efforts. For a second, his life hung in the balance and his wing tips slashed mere inches away from the bubbling slime of the water’s surface. 

“No! No! Not like this!” 

So began the slow crawl back to speed. Skimming just above the water, Sundance somehow held it together, but was now faced with a new problem: the hillock just ahead. There wasn’t a lick of difference between crashing into the swamp and smashing into the side of a tar papered shack. Sharp edges of tin roofs were everywhere. He had to gain altitude, his life depended upon it. 

The climb would be torturous. 

He somehow avoided a swamp shanty by banking and angling away, but this cost him valuable momentum and almost put him right into the rooty, slimy muck. For the first time, he noticed the ponies, many of them standing upon shanty roofs, all of them cheering him on. Weaving in and out between shanties and shacks, somehow avoiding the sharp, dangerous edges of tin roofs, Sundance fought against the most dangerous of foes: gravity. 

The hillock arrived all too soon and he wasn’t prepared. This was a crash in progress, it was live and going on, and though the impact hadn’t happened yet, it seemed inevitable. The clang of metal against metal jarred Sundance, it rattled his bones and the sky truck grazing a shanty almost yanked him from the air. 

Even while terrified because he was experiencing a prolonged crash sequence, Sundance had the presence of mind to kick the release lever behind him. A ear-pricking ‘kebong!’ could be heard and he felt the sky truck shudder as the mechanical release was sprung. To his good fortune, he had more than enough skittering and bouncing about to shake the crate loose, and it slid right out the back. 

The sudden lightness allowed him to surge upwards, but his guts, his balls, and his retinas were seized by the clingy bitch known as gravity, who refused to let go. His vision blurred and it was almost impossible to draw breath as he was crushed by some invisible force. He was running out of clearing and the chances seemed good that his skull would get lodged in his pelvis. 

After all of the other close calls, that seemed a terrible way to go, and he refused that end. 

Almost blind, a stream of urine trailing out behind him, Sundance brought himself up to ramming speed while also angling himself upwards. This was it, the end. He would either go smashing through the treetops and hit sky, or he would meet his terrific end and crash spectacularly. Terror, perhaps drained out with his urine, had left him, and all that was left was a surreal calm. 

There was no point in whining and crying like a frightened foal. Death was a finish line of sorts, and like a pegasus possessed by twisty wind devils, Sundance surged towards his chosen end. He had learned from his first encounter with the canopy, and this time, he would cannonball through with every ounce of speed he could muster. 

Sky or die!
> Cargo commence
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunlight had never felt so good on his face as it did right now. Scratched, bruised, battered, and a bit bloody, Sundance soared over the treetops while hooting and shouting about what he considered to be one of his finest achievements. This and slaloming the stacks at the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen would be his go-to boasts, on the rare occasions when he felt like blabbing about his accomplishments. 

The fact that he was paid for this thrill-seeking was just icing on the cake. 

One primary had been torn right out on his left, leaving him with a wing that trailed a thin ribbon of blood as he flew. It stung a bit, but it wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him. Next time when he made his delivery here, and there would be a next time, this was great money, he would hit the canopy at speed. Perhaps some protective barding might be in order, some waxed canvas coveralls might help, but his wings would still be exposed. 

He was going to need a day or two to recover, sure, but taking jobs like this one could only benefit the barony. His debt was substantial, but he was determined to face this dragon—alone, if necessary. Though he was hesitant to admit it, he was getting comfortable with his position. He felt itchy all over if he thought about himself as Baron Sunfire, but he was comfortable with the idea that he was a civil servant. 

With this in mind, he thought about his submissive nature. As much as he dreaded it, as much as he wanted to avoid it, it crept into his mind. Meeting his new friends had been the first cautionary step of discovery, and he was thrilled to discover that there were other ponies just like him. Only, Sundance wasn’t sure what he was yet, but with his new friends, he saw what he might be, which was endlessly reassuring. 

Was he gay? 

He couldn’t say. 

Much to his chagrin, he had a type though, something that had slowly developed over time. Unfortunately, and confusingly so, that type applied to both genders—and rather than sort it out, he had just retreated. The idea that he wasn’t quite like the others had been with him since an early age, much to his shame and consternation. He finished school and then continued to live with his mother. Facing himself was so unbearable that he had buried himself in his project—which had helped considerably, but now that project was over and he was no closer to figuring himself out. 

With his wings flapping at a steady beat, he thought of Olive and his reaction to her. She was chiseled from granite, that mare, a solid slab of rippling muscles that undulated beneath her taut, supple skin. She was statuesque, solid; she was a creature that he’d spend hours staring at, taking in every available detail through his eyes. 

Allowing his mind to drift, Sundance aimed himself for Canterlot. 



 

The bistro, quite charming, was somehow even more so with the company of Fleur Dis Lee. Sundance had bumped into her through sheer serendipitous circumstance, and Fleur had introduced him to one of her friends, a vivacious, somewhat chatty mare named Sweetie Belle. After Fleur had fussed over him, cleaned away the blood, and patched up his worst wounds, the three of them had lunch. 

“Miss Belle is very much like her older sister,” Fleur said, striking up a conversation while they waited for their food to arrive. “Beautiful, intelligent, witty… and hoping to find her a prince someday. What is it that you do again, my dearest darling?” 

Ears pricking, her green eyes glittering, Sweetie Belle let out a nervous chuckle. With her right hoof, she stroked her neck, smoothing out a few stray hairs, and with her left hoof, she made a casual, dramatic wave. “I’m a counseling psychologist that specialises in destiny-related stress factors. Fate-based fugues are no laughing matter.” Again, she chuckled and her eyes darted to and fro between Sundance and Fleur. “I’m part of a three pony team. Each of us has our own specialisation and we’re advancing an entirely new field of study. Undiscovered territory. We’re pioneers!” 

“Smart mares are an asset, are they not?” Fleur asked while focusing her polite stare upon Sundance. “Brains and beauty. One enhances the other.” 

“You specialise in the study of cutie marks?” Shifting a bit in his seat, Sundance made a polite effort to avoid Fleur’s soul-piercing gaze. “Mine showed up for no reason, no reason at all. It was just… it was just there one day, and I started getting these weird compulsions.” 

“Oh!” Sweetie Belle gasped and within moments, she became quite animated. “External circumstances! Those kinds of marks happen sometimes. They’re quite strange, and my friends and I have determined that it isn’t because of something that you did, but rather, because of external circumstances. Something happened somewhere, some event, or perhaps some sequence, and when these events took place, you received your mark. These events are mysterious, no two are ever quite the same, so it is really difficult to study them, and we don’t actually have a lot of verifiable scientific data on them. Just guesses. Really good guesses.” 

“Guesses?” Sundance, a bit dubious, folded his forelegs over his barrel and waited. 

“Well, one of the best recent examples was a chain reaction of cutie marks. Rainbow Dash made a rainboom happen and this triggered a sequence of events that caused a chain of related marks to appear all at once. Not quite the same as your situation, I don’t think, but related in a tangential way. Something probably happened somewhere, maybe somewhere far away, and your mark appeared as a reaction.” 

“As I was saying, brains and beauty,” Fleur quipped. 

Even though it wasn’t much to go on, Sundance was intrigued. Had something happened at the barony? Some sequence of events or a chain reaction? He knew about the rainboom connection because he had studied it in school. Every foal studied that in school. That mysterious connection spoke of greatness. Which was fine for Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends. As for Sundance, he was a pegasus with a sunflower cutie mark that had inherited a run-down travesty of a barony. A soggy grey rain cloud over a sunflower was not a mark of distinction, but rather, had condemned him to a life of servitude. 

“You come from a most noble bloodline,” Fleur began, her voice soft and demure. “Said bloodline had fallen on hard times. Perhaps your mark appeared because you were the best pony available to restore your family name.” 

This seemed possible, but Sundance was riddled with doubts when faced with evidence of some great destiny. “I’m not noble though. I’m barely educated. I—” 

“The trappings of nobility can be a hindrance.” Fleur’s eyebrow arched in apology for her interruption. “Education can sometimes teach a pony all of the wrong things. Leave their mind rigid, unyielding, and inflexible. There are times when the best education comes by doing, my dearest darling. You seem aware of your shortcomings, but not your strengths. You rescued one of your peasants, and did so at great risk to yourself. Princess Celestia picked just the right pony for the job. Your mark, whatever it might mean or for whatever reason it manifested, marked you as just the right pony for the job.” 

“You know…” Sweetie Belle tapped on her fuzzy chin with one hoof and tapped on the edge of the wrought iron table with the other. “How one sees their mark can affect the outcome of how it inspires them. Observation changes the outcome, as is typical with magic. Just out of curiousity, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you see your mark? When you look at it, what do you see? What do you take from it?” 

Sundance started to respond, but just as he was about to say something, the words died right on the tip of his tongue. It seemed like such a simple question, but truth be told, he hadn’t really given much thought to the imagery of his mark. A soggy grey rain cloud over a sunflower—what could it possibly mean? It was confusing, to say the very least, and ambiguous as well. It was a mark with no distinct meaning, no pictogram of clear instruction. Was he supposed to be a weather pony? A storm chaser? What did it mean and what was the point? 

Humming to herself, a waitress dropped off a platter of fried mushrooms and breadsticks dusted in seasoning. Then, she departed so that she could look after the needs of others. Sundance watched her go, thoughtful, but he wasn’t really looking at her, she was just something to focus on while he thought. Unknown to him though, Fleur observed him as he stared, and did so with a curious expression. 

“You know, it’s funny, but I do seem to attract storms,” Sundance remarked, still distracted. “I do seem to be quite good at flying through them. Was like that in the city. I could fly and make deliveries in conditions that would ground most pegasus ponies. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to brag, but you asked. I guess maybe it is a point of pride for me, flying in any weather?” Falling silent, he thought of his bombing run in Froggy Bottom Bogg and how close he came to absolute disaster. There was no point in mentioning that, not right now, anyhow. He’d need some time to let that story simmer. He would tell the truth, but he needed time to think before he could tell the truth in the most flattering, best possible way.

“That’s pretty good.” Sweetie Belle spoke with the practiced voice of a serial-encourager. “So you think your mark allows you to face the turbulent storms of life?” 

He hadn’t thought about it that way before she mentioned it, but he thought of it that way now. His vacant stare now focused on nothing at all. This was the trouble with thinking; once one thought about something, there were always more thoughts to be had. One simply could not think about one thing without inviting more thoughts to come and have a party. Uninvited guests were the worst. 

“That’s only one way to look at it,” Sweetie Belle continued, her eyes bright, focused, and thoughtful. “Sunflowers need a few things to grow. Rich soil, sunshine, and rain. These are three things necessary for life. Your barony is the soil, Princess Celestia is the sunshine, and you… you’re the pony that brings the rain. You’re the Rainbringer, if you wanted to call yourself something fancy and meaningful.” 

Sundance unfolded his forelegs from his barrel and allowed them to come to rest against the edge of the table. The Rainbringer? It was true what she had said—sunflowers needed rain. The barony was fertile earth and Princess Celestia was a distant sun that dwelled in Canterlot. What his barony needed was rain so that it might prosper again. He was slow to turn his head and when he glanced at Sweetie Belle, she seemed eager to engage him in some sort of meaningful conversation. 

“Cutie marks are all about the meaning that you find in them. It can completely change your perspective if you take some time and think about all of the possible meanings. It might inspire you, take you in new directions, it might lead you to do great things. Even the simplest of marks might hold the most complex of meanings. In my job, I deal with a lot of ponies who are held back by their own beliefs, their views, and how they perceive things. Some of them believe that their mark traps them. Others fail to recognise their own potential. That is what my friends and I do—we try to counsel others so that they might find new meaning. Every single pony is entitled to live a rich, fulfilling life, and we work to help them accomplish that.” 

“Do you really think I was born to do this job?” 

Ears splaying out sideways, Sweetie Belle hesitated to answer. She raised one hoof, a silent request for a moment to think, and her lips moved with silent words unsaid. After taking a bit of time to collect her thoughts, she replied, “I think you were born with the potential to do anything that you want. But, it does seem that you are a good fit for this position. Honestly, it all comes down to you. Princess Celestia clearly saw something within you and she chose you for this task. Were you born to do it? I don’t know. Your mark has just the right metaphor for the situation though. Perhaps Princess Celestia saw the meaningful mark required to carry out whatever it is that she has planned.” 

“So… cutie marks are… advertising?” Sundance’s head cocked off to one side. “A sign saying, ‘pick me’ so the agents of destiny can assign me a job? It’s just a matter of having the right visual metaphor for the task at hoof?” 

“I suppose?” Sweetie Belle stretched out the words, hesitant. “I never thought of it as a billboard. That changes my perspective. Hmm.”

Fleur, ever hopeful, seemed pleased by this turn of events, and she smiled a warm, gracious smile at the two thoughtful ponies who stared off in different directions. She tapped her front hooves together, a soft, polite clonk, and then she helped herself to a mushroom fried in golden batter. Leaning in, chewing with exquisite politeness, she seemed eager for things to develop. 

“Well, I have a new question to ask Twilight and Cadance. Also, I’m thinking I can finally tear Apple Bloom a new one, and say that her backside is big enough to rent out advertising space on. Jumbo billboards. Birthing billboards? I’m having all sorts of ideas.” 

Pausing mid-chew, Fleur almost choked. 

“What’s interesting is, at least in cases like this one, is that a mark can appear to prepare a pony for something that hasn’t happened yet. I can only assume that your mark showed up when you were younger, and now, here you are, sitting in Canterlot, the lord of some barony. That’s a hopeful thing, really. A mark might appear for something we’re not exposed to. You started off in one place and ended up here. Did your mark guide you? Or did you bring yourself here? So many questions. This is why I like my job. It’s like being a detective and trying to solve a mystery.” 

After a few thoughtful blinks, Sundance glanced over at his sky truck and thought about what Sweetie Belle had just said. Consumed as he was, he failed to notice how Fleur was watching his every movement, his every reaction, reading every twitch of every muscle. Had he been a more observant pegasus pony, he might have figured out that Fleur was playing matchmaker. 

But Sundance was oblivious, and from the looks of things, so was Sweetie Belle.
> 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.
> The Sultan of Stink
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a good night’s sleep, the days were easier to face now, and the dawns seemed far more glorious. There was a sense of momentum now, of purpose, of building up to something; though whatever that something was, it remained unknown. It seemed as though each good day prepared the barony for a better day, and Sundance was determined to keep the good days going. 

Lemongrass’ cutie mark seemed to be some sort of rallying cry, affecting everypony in some way, igniting some shared sense of purpose. The colt now followed Cucumber almost everywhere and the old retainer walked with a spring in his step. Was it nice to have another unicorn around? Probably. Sundance couldn’t imagine what it was like to have been alone for so long. Though Sundance doubted that Cucumber would ever talk about it. Some ponies spoke a great deal of unity and breaking down tribal barriers; Cucumber on the other hoof, lived it. One unicorn, alone among earth ponies, Cucumber was careful to never lord himself over them and treated them with the utmost respect. At least, when he wasn’t snarky. But snark was expected, demanded even, and was possibly proof of true equality. 

Sundance tried to live by his retainer’s example, and hoped that Lemongrass would do so as well. 

“You know, Owlister, with each passing day, you look less like a mutant cactus and more like a fuzzy something-or-other. Soon, you’ll look like an owl.” 

The owl’s silence was all the response that Sundance deserved. 

“I had a dream last night, Owlister,” he said, continuing his conversation with his sleepy companion. “I dreamt of the pegasus ponies who hunted with the wolves and ate meat. Grandmother told me stories. Together, they were allies and they battled the evil wargs. Ponies think wolves are evil, because sometimes, wolves eat ponies… I guess. But they’re just wild animals and wild animals do what they do. But wargs… wargs are real evil. They talk, they plan, and they hunger for pony flesh. At least, that is what Grandmother said. For wargs to keep their smarts, for them to keep talking, they have to eat magical creatures. They’re magic-eaters. I don’t think they exist any more.” 

Closing his eyes, Owlister appeared to go to sleep. 

“I’ll never be a warrior, fighting wargs, and I certainly won’t have a pack of wolves. Those days of tall tales are done, I suppose. But I’ll have a flock of owls… and we’ll wage a war against pests and the like. That’ll be grand. Not much to tell a story about, and certainly nothing that will ever be remembered throughout the ages, but some of us have to aspire for humbler things. If all of us aspired for great things, then the little things would never get done. Heroes come and go, but us humble types are what keeps society going. I could never slay a warg, but give me a pen, some paper, and a hot cuppa, and I can get stuff done. That’s how I got this barony. I can face the boring stuff that would put most ponies to sleep.” 

Owlister let out an annoyed hoot, and then, like a tiny, fuzzy accordion, he pulled his head down almost into his body in the way that owls do, becoming a short, squat, lump. Then, the tiny owlet’s beak made a grinding sound. 

“Fine, fine… I get the hint. No bedtime stories for you. I’ll see that you get fed in a few hours. Pleasant dreams, Owlister… it’s weird, but somehow I know you dream…” 



 

The terraced plots were perhaps the most interesting aspect of Sundance’s barony. Down in the box canyon, the walls got most of the light, while the ground only got direct sunlight during the hours around noon. But with the terraced walls, during the early morning hours the western canyon wall was bathed in glorious sunlight, and in the afternoon, the eastern canyon wall had its turn. 

Water was supplied by the waterfall in the very back of the box canyon, and flowed through channels carved into the stone. A fine, somewhat sulphurous mist kissed everything with moisture, and this came from the icy-cold waters of the waterfall falling into the steaming-hot waters of the boiling spring basin. Said basin was the perfect place for a quick dip, being bathwater-hot. The overflow from the basin watered everything and the excess waters were directed elsewhere to prevent flooding. 

It was, overall, a brilliant system, one where the land provided for its own needs.

Sundance doubted that an urban environment could be as efficient, but he was ignorant of such things. Cities were odd places, where food had to be hauled in. Water came from outside sources beyond the boundaries of the city. But here? The land provided and there was a sort of balance, though Sundance had no idea at what point the balance would go bust if the population increased. At what point would he have to look beyond his own borders to provide for the needs of the ponies who lived here? 

It was something that made him have a profound think. 

“Sky boat.” Potato seemed quite alarmed and stood with her head cocked off to one side. “Sky boat. Invaders incoming.” Then, without further ado, Potato made herself scarce and began herding the livestock to safety, bleating and mooing at them to motivate them into moving. “Sky boat! Baa-aa-aah!” 

Sundance watched her for a time, distracted, and then turned his eyes skyward. He saw nothing, but kept peering about, trying to spot whatever it was that Potato had seen that had left her in such a distressed state. It was difficult though, because the wall-eyed mare was mooing, and it was impossible to take anything seriously while a wall-eyed pony went mooing about like a distraught cow. 

Then, after searching the wide-open sky for a bit, he spotted a faint speck in the distance, something on the far-off horizon that might be a ‘sky boat’ or might be a bird—it was impossible for him to tell. He held out his hoof, and then lined up his sight for reference, a trick his mother had taught him. Nope, too far away. Still holding his hoof out, he glanced at Potato and wondered how she knew. 

Yes, the speck was moving closer, becoming a bit larger, but it was impossible to tell what it was. From his lofty perch upon the promontory rock where the tower once stood, he had a good view of things—but realised that Potato, who was down below in the canyon, did not have the same field of view that he did. How did she know? Squinting, he looked down at her while she escorted some goats into the cave-barn directly below him. 

Spreading his wings, Sundance took flight. 



 

The ‘sky boat’ was an airship, though calling it an airship was charitable. It was more of a rowboat really, hung below a nacelle. It wasn’t a large craft, nor was it fast, but it seemed perfect for short jaunts. Standing in the floating boat was a dusky yellow unicorn that Sundance recognised right away, even at a distance. 

Turmeric had come out to scout locations. 

Though somewhat small, the craft did have twin airscrews for stability and a deployable set of sails. Not bothering to flap, Sundance rode the updrafts and approached with a smooth, effortless glide. He could see Turmeric’s mane whipping in the breeze and one hoof waved in greeting. A sort of subdued excitement settled over Sundance; today, work would get accomplished, at least in the form of planning. 

Banking a bit, he corrected his course so he could come in for a smooth landing, which meant no tailwinds or side gusts. As he drew closer, he heard the chuffing clatter of some unknown engine. It didn’t belch out clouds of black smoke, so it didn’t burn coal, which was nice. It was quite visible, this engine, and had a large spinning flywheel made of brass. 

Angling his primaries, he made his final approach. 



 

Turmeric surprised him with a hug, which Sundance wasn’t expecting, not at all. Not just any hug either, but a warm, affectionate hug that left him a little confused, as it was quite unlike anything that he was used to. It took him several moments of collecting his senses before he wrapped a wing around the enthusiastic hug-happy unicorn to return the affectionate gesture. 

“I’m excited,” Turmeric announced while squeezing Sundance’s neck. The unicorn, almost the same colour as his namesake, got in one last good squeeze before pulling away. “Rustic is excited too. He said that everything about this feels right and I’m inclined to agree.” 

In silence, Sundance stood there, unsure of how to respond. The hug had thrown him off guard and there was a confusing delightfulness about it. Turmeric had a pleasant sturdy softness to him, along with a enticingly feminine floral scent that clung to him even in the strong breeze. All of this, along with the hug, left Sundance more than just a little bit befuddled. 

Then, before Sundance could recover, Turmeric made a bold move and began spritzing him with fragrant, aromatic perfume. It was girly, heady, a bit sneezy, and wonderful to breathe in. Did it hide the stench of rotten eggs? Sundance had no idea. Still befuddled, confused, and out of sorts, Sundance did nothing when Turmeric lifted each wing and did a bit of spritzing. 

“Normally, floral scents are bug magnets, but this is specially formulated. It keeps away bitey bugs, blood suckers, fleas, ticks, and mosquitoes. It’s my own creation and it’s become a best-seller. There’s this divine fashionista and she buys it by the crate. Her name’s Rarity. Heard of her? Sometimes, she uses me as a clothes rack to showcase warm, bold colours and I don’t mind a bit.” 

Sundance, now slightly damp, stood with the wind ruffling his rather scruffy blue mane. 

“There’s drinks in the cooler,” Turmeric said, pointing at the cooler. “Make yourself at home. It feels nice to gab. It really does feel nice to gab. To have a new friend. I feel safe around you. It’s a relief.” 

“Safe?” Sundance repeated the word while one eyebrow lifted. 

Turmeric’s tail tucked between his legs and he stood there, awkwardly staring at the bottle of perfume. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood, I’m sorry. When I feel safe, I just blab everything out, all the stuff I hold inside my head that I don’t dare talk about with most ponies. I don’t feel safe around most stallions… they either want to smash me on account of how I am, or, well, you get the idea. Some things don’t change no matter the gender, you know? Big aggressive males are still big aggressive males, no matter which way they swing. I’m seen as a girl, I’m treated like a girl, and even in our, um, community? Yes, community, that’s a fitting word, there are less than enlightened attitudes. So when I feel safe and secure, I really, really appreciate it.” 

“Oh.” Sundance tried to make himself relax a bit, but failed. 

Turmeric’s eyes darkened and his expression became a bit troubled as he said, “I have some issues with being assertive, as I’ve mentioned. Normally, I’d be terrified to be where I am right now, on a ship with a stranger with no means to escape. But I don’t feel scared and oh my goodness, I’m just going to blabber all day, aren’t I?” 

“It’s fine.” At that moment, Sundance realised that he had something in common with his mother. He liked knowing that others were safe around him. It calmed him to think about and at last, he was able to relax just a bit so that he might enjoy himself. Turning his face into the breeze, he closed his eyes and allowed the chilly wind to wash over him while he took a few deep breaths. 

When he opened his eyes again, Turmeric was minding the ship’s wheel and humming to himself. The unicorn made for a jaunty captain and his smile was infectious. Sundance knew that today was going to be special, and that he’d have a nice time. He’d seen surprisingly little of his own barony beyond the box canyon and the flight path going north from the railway depot. A little exploration with a friend might be fun. 

No, not just fun; but a splendid day was sure to be had by all. 



 

Beyond the box canyon, the Foal Mountain Foothills grew far more jagged and evergreens now dominated the landscape. Blue water, black granite, and dark green trees made a feast for the eyes. A sea of trees stretched as far as the eye could see. Sharp peaks hid deep, verdant valleys and sprawling alpine meadows. 

Sundance had a hard time believing that this land was his. 

He could only describe what he saw as forest fortresses. Approach from the ground seemed impossible in places, with sheer cliff faces making a climb improbable. Water was everywhere; streams from snowmelt, lakes, ponds, marshes, these were wetlands and they teemed with birds of all kinds. 

“There.” Turmeric pointed with his hoof at a column of rising steam. “Rustic told me what to look for, and that has to be it.” 

Sundance winced; the air here smelled even worse than the barony, if such a thing were possible. Add to the fact that they had considerable altitude… and Sundance concluded that at the ground-level, the stench had to be legendary. There was no getting around it, no denying it, he was the Baron of Stench, Master of Miasmas, guardian of the stinkiest lands in all of Equestria. 

“Phew! I’m going to take us down for a closer look!” 



 

A sea of roiling, bubbling, boiling black mud blanketed the valley floor. Rainbows danced in the columns of rising steam and the sight below was every bit as beautiful as it was smelly. In all of his life, Sundance had never seen anything quite as breathtaking. It bubbled like a porridge over a fire, something he’d only been introduced to recently, as he’d never actually seen a porridge bubbling over a fire while living in the city. 

Several sources of water trickled down into the lowland valley, with a number of beautiful waterfalls. Birds were everywhere in this place, this fortress of nature surrounded on all sides by sheer, craggy cliffs. Everywhere he looked there were rainbows, so many rainbows, and everything sparkled with glistening condensation, just like his box canyon home. 

“It’s perfect.” Turmeric had tears in his eyes; from the beauty or the fetid, fusty, frowsty aroma, it was hard to tell. He paced back and forth while peering down over the edge. “Perfect. Miraculous, medicinal mineral mud. This is just the sort of spot that Rustic hoped to find. Any enterprising pony can mix hot water and black dirt together in a spa, but to find this out in the wild…” 

“It’s boiling, though,” Sundance replied. 

“That can be dealt with.” Turmeric snorted, sneezed, and coughed for a bit. 

“Miraculous?” Sundance’s head tilted off to one side. “It’s just mud. Is it right to call it ‘miraculous,’ because that seems misleading.” 

“Oh, Rustic will make no claims of the sort, but ponies will believe it anyway.” Turmeric ceased his pacing, paused, and then after a hesitant moment, leaned up against Sundance. “We won’t need to make any claims. All we’ll need to do is state that we have all-natural mineral mud, and ponies will believe whatever it is that they believe. It does have some actual health benefits, to be sure, but this… this will sell itself.” 

After a moment, he added, “The rainbows will no doubt add to its mystical appeal.” 

Lifting a hoof, Sundance began to rub his chin. This felt like madness. Would a pony really pay good bits to come and stay at a place like this? With this aroma? It was beautiful, sure—but the smell. Perhaps it would be perceived as a medicinal stench, which might make it more appealing. 

All things considered, Sundance had his doubts. 

“Rustic’s yacht can hold twenty passengers… well, couples, really. There’s ten cabins. He figures that he can charge five-hundred gold bits per couple for a luxurious weekend getaway. The banks are already competing over which one of them will give Rustic a loan. With that loan, we’ll build a nice sanctuary sanitarium up here, with a spa and hotel. The wealthy elderly will pay a fortune for a place to soak their creaky old bones and convalesce in the lap of luxury. We’ll have to charge astronomical prices though to attract the right clientele, the sort of ponies who don’t want to be bothered by the poor commoners. They’re assholes, but they have money to spend. Rustic loves gouging them, and they love paying Rustic.” 

“You’re really serious… there’s money to be made in this?” Sundance couldn’t even begin to imagine whatever numbers had already been cooked up. 

“Yeah, enough money that it’s dangerous.” Turmeric’s eyes narrowed and with a turn of his head, he looked up at Sundance. “Rustic is worried that with your debt, one of the banks you owe money to will forcibly step in as a partner. Lending banks make terrible partners. All about bottom lines and profit margins and bad decisions. I’m not sure what Rustic is planning, but make no mistake, he’s planning something. Can’t let corporate greed ruin a good thing… and a good friendship.” 

“But we’ve only just met—” 

“And on our first meeting, we saw that you’re like us. You might not have north and south figured out, but you’re a foal in the woods.” Turmeric smiled, revealing a few teeth, and he slipped away from Sundance’s side. “I wish I had a group of friends that would have swooped in to save me from some of my more terrible mistakes. At least Rustic and Henny were there to help me recover. Because of them, I learned to trust again. They made me see value in myself.” 

Opening up the cooler, the unicorn pulled out two brown glass bottles and with a telekinetic flick, opened them. Still smiling, he passed one to Sundance, while taking a sip from the one he kept for himself. Taking the bottle in his fetlock, Sundance lifted it, took a sniff, and couldn’t smell anything but rotten eggs. 

Holding it up a little more, and adjusting his grip, he saw that it was a bottle of Sweet Apple Acres hard cider. This particular flavour was Sugar Belle’s Secret Sour and had an attractive winking unicorn mare biting a green apple on the label. Shrugging, he tried a swallow. At first, it was sweet, far more than he expected from a hard cider, and then the sour hit him like a freight train. 

The sound of Turmeric’s laughter was decidedly feminine. 

What weird food-based magic was this? The sourness only lasted for a short time—a few eyeblinks, perhaps—but was powerful enough to make Sundance want to swallow his own face. It made the hinge of his jaw ache and his salivary glands squirted and gushed in confusion, trying to dilute the tarty tang tangoing upon his tongue. 

“Oh, you are a treasure! The faces that you make!” Turmeric held his bottle up, as if toasting, and gave Sundance a nod. “Wait until Rustic sees this place! It’s fantastic! He’ll be beside himself. Sundance, Rustic looks after his friends. At least, he looks after me. It’s been great having somepony look after my needs after everything that’s happened.” 

Unsure of what to say or how to say it, Sundance focused on a distant ridge and pointed with his primaries. “That’s the flattest spot around here. Would be a good place to build, I think. How will you coax rich ponies out here with the smell being what it is?” 

“Oh, they make industrial air-scrubbers and filtration systems,” Turmeric was quick to say in return. “It feels nice to have another pony I can be myself around and not worry. I was nervous. This felt like a date. I spent over an hour in front of the mirror making sure the frosted highlights in my mane and tail were just perfect. I feel giddy. It might be the cider. Might not be.” 

Sundance tried another sip of his cider, this time fully anticipating the sourness. 

There was life here in this boiling pit of mud. Birds flew overhead and strange, unknown creatures could be seen in the mud itself. Odd stork-like birds strolled through the mud, their long legs somehow not scalded. Slithering creepy-crawly things existed in the mud, and the odd birds occasionally ate one. An owl-dragon with iridescent blue scales slept in the crotch of a tree. 

Giant dragonflies darted about, their wings buzzing, zipping amongst the rainbows. 

“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Once more, Turmeric allowed himself to lean up against Sundance’s side. 

Thinking nothing of it, Sundance slipped a wing over Turmeric’s back, and continued sipping his cider while drinking in the beauty all around him. The somewhat smaller unicorn was a little antsy at first, but then settled against Sundance’s side and went still. As for Sundance, he could not believe his good fortune, that Princess Celestia had gifted him this land. As important as the land was, other things had happened as a direct cause; he had made friends. After so many years as a recluse, after being buried in his project, he didn’t know how to act. 

But that didn’t seem to matter. 

None of that seemed to matter in this perfect, wonderful moment.
> Surprise!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Upon entering the dining hall, Sundance froze, thoroughly unprepared for what awaited him after his sightseeing trip with Turmeric. He stood in the doorway, the wooden door pressed against his rump, his ears and mouth both hanging limp. Try as he might, he could do nothing to recover, and when he tried to speak, strange throaty wickers were the only sounds to come forth. 

“Sire, the Milord’s Mother was just telling me some tales, so she was, whilst we had a delightful cup of tea. Aye, she’s a real treasure, she is, full of mirth and a razor-keen wit. And oh, what stories she has to tell.” 

“Come over here and sit down with me, Sunny.” Sunbeam Shimmer patted the floor just beside her and her hoof made soft, quiet raps against the wood. “I was just talking to your… retainer? Sorry, I’m new to all of this. Quite a shock to find out my son has a retainer.” She paused, her head tilted off to one side, and her golden eyes glittered with mischief. “How shall I address you, Your Lordship?” 

Sundance tried to back out, but the door had already latched shut. 

Again, his mother patted the floor beside her, and somehow, he managed to recover from his state of shock. Cucumber was snickering to himself while pouring some tea. Meanwhile, his mother kept patting the floor, beckoning him to come over and sit down. She was wickedly amused, his mother; of course, it was just his misfortune that his mother’s rare sense of humour would show itself now of all times. Officer Mom was a serious, stern mare, and many believed that she had no sense of humour at all—or that, perhaps, it had been surgically removed at some point, as had been suggested around the police precinct. 

“Oh, you’ve been fired from your job. They sent a courier out to the apartment with a telegram and everything. It seems as though you’ve found another job. Nice work, Sunny. Like I’ve told you, always stay busy and productive, and you’ll stay out of trouble. I don’t abide hooliganism.” One eyebrow angled aggressively, forming half of a commanding ‘V’ below Sunbeam Shimmer’s fiery red-orange mane. 

Leaning against the table, Cucumber sniggered into his teacup. 

Dragging his hooves, Sundance shuffled over to his mother, sighing in resignation, and sat down. His mother began right away, brushing him off with her wing, sorting out his mane, and doing everything that moms do after not seeing their sons for a while. There was nothing he could do to stop her, and he worried for Cucumber’s health and safety, because the old unicorn was wheezing fit to split. 

“Hi, Mom. It’s been a while. I was going to send another telegram, but I’ve been, uh, busy.” When his mother sniffed him, he almost jumped right out of his skin and wondered if he still smelled like perfume. She continued to groom him and when he started to squirm, she slapped his neck with her wing. All at once, everything felt like old times, missed times, and he was relieved to see his mother. “I was just out conducting business, actually. With a business partner. Big plans and all that. Princess Celestia is trusting me to pay off the barony’s debt and I need to make this place profitable.” 

The suspicious expression and the crinkled muzzle on his mother’s face spoke volumes. 

“Why are you all scratched and torn up?” his mother demanded, her tone one of annoyed impatience. “Your wing is injured. What happened to you?” 

Sundance thought of his brief crash through the tree canopy, his terrifying bombing run through the Froggy Bottom Bogg, and his glorious escape back into golden sunlight. Daredevil acts sometimes fell under hooliganism. Sometimes. Most of the time. Almost all of the time. Casting a stern glance in Cucumber’s direction, he said to his mother, “It’s nothing. On the job hazards, that’s all. I did a dangerous delivery but everything turned out fine. I got paid and that’s all that matters.” 

A low, surly growl could be heard down deep in his mother’s throat. She wrapped her wings around him, pulled him close, and he could feel the rumble within her as she embraced him. She was angry, obviously, but not with him. Not at the moment, anyhow. Saying the magic words, “I got paid,” had done much to mollify her, but now she was clingy and protective. 

Some things never changed… 

“Did you get hazard pay? You’d better have gotten some hazard pay. What have I told you about demanding hazard pay? You need to get mad! Be aggressive! Be demanding! Most employers won’t give it unless you explicitly ask for—” 

“I was paid very well, Mom. Enough to buy four used beehives.” 

His mother’s throaty growling subsided, but not by much. 

“I’ll be taking that job once a month. And others. The pay is better, Mom. I made more with one delivery than I did working a whole day with my last job. I’m well compensated.” When his mother eased off a bit, Sundance heaved a sigh of relief. Officer Mom had a strict mercenary policy and getting paid well theoretically made almost anything okay, so long as it wasn’t illegal. 

“After I got your telegram, I arranged to use some of my vacation days.” Sunbeam returned to brushing off non-existent specks from her son while she spoke. “Flew to Canterlot. Started asking around. Heard stories about some insane pegasus that flew into Canterlot during one of the worst spring blizzards in recent history. Had some trouble believing that was you, because you know better than to be reckless. Heard some stories about why it was done. Eventually, I spoke to a mare named Raven. Had a nice cup of tea with her and Prince Blueblood. Had a chance to meet Princess Celestia’s son, Nuance. He’s a fussy fidgeter, that one. That colt can’t sit still.” 

In silence, Cucumber began fixing a cup of tea for Sundance. 

“Sunny…” 

Something dangerous lurked in his mother’s voice, a danger that Sundance knew all too well. “Yes, Mom?” 

“I want you to tell me how you’ve somehow managed to gain the sort of flight experience it would take to fly into a storm like that. And land. What have I told you about the boulevard racing and daredevil flying in the city? What have I told you? Do you want to be smokestack pizza? A pile of pegasus giblets scattered in the streets?” 

“Mom—” 

“Don’t you dare ‘Mom’ me, Sunny. Nopony flies into a storm like that one without practice. You’re busted, you lying, deceitful, treacherous little cuss.” His mother pulled away, almost snarling, but there was something in her eyes that he could not make out. “You saved a mare’s life, so I’m willing to forgive you, but I’m now aware that you’re up to no good, and I have conclusive evidence that you’ve lied to me.” Pressing her lips together, his mother now wore a ferocious scowl. 

Still, there was something about her eyes that Sundance could not make out. 

“A colt sometimes has to break his mother’s heart,” Cucumber said while setting down a steaming cup of tea before Sundance. “I became a soldier. My mother, she didn’t agree. It caused a rift between us, so it did.” 

Sundance feared his mother would reply with sharp words, perhaps telling Cucumber to mind his own business. Sunbeam Shimmer never took too kindly to others ‘suggesting’ how to parent. But his mother said nothing. Her brows furrowed, she hunched over, sulky, and while he watched, she snatched up her teacup with such a sudden movement that it almost spilled. 

“Mom, I’m—” 

“Don’t you dare apologise, Sunny.” Still sulking, his mother hunched down over her teacup and stared down at the table. “I got sent out to a lot of crashes. Dumb young punks. Saw a lot of broken, mangled bodies. Lives cut short before they ever saw their potential. Lived with a constant fear that I’d get sent to a crash scene and I’d find you. The smokestacks at the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen were the worst. So many broken necks and shattered spines.” 

His accomplishment—slaloming the stacks—didn’t seem so impressive now. 

Sundance knew his mother’s moods were as mercurial and ever-changing as a feral sky. Which is to say, they were quick to change on a whim and with no warning whatsoever. If he was patient, she would pull up and out of this. She was probably a raging torrent of emotion right now, more so than he was. But she was the way she was and he knew where he got his own moodiness from—it was a trait he most certainly didn’t get from his father. These dark clouds would pass and his mother would move to whatever captured her whims next. 

He felt as though an apology was in order, though perhaps not the one his mother expected. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home to explain things. A telegram was a poor substitute to a proper goodbye. Princess Celestia gave me a job and I took it. I was needed… here… in this place. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do have competent help.” 

“I didn’t raise you to be a shirker.” Ripples spread through her cup as she spoke, and Sundance’s mother stared down into the depths of her soothing brown liquid. “Sunny, I’m glad you found a job that makes you happy. If anything, I owe you an apology. This project of yours, I thought it was a waste of time and money. I wanted you to go to college… or trade school. Sometimes, you have to give up some happiness to get by in life, you know? I know how you feel about factory work and office work. That delivery job of yours had lousy pay. You’re too good a worker to be paid so little, and I’m not just saying that ‘cause I’m your mother.” 

Looking back, it had all been a means to an end. Since his mark had shown up all those years ago, life had been a series of events all leading up to this. His life had been one of preparation, though he hadn’t known it. The dedication and hard work paid off. It felt good to hear his mother acknowledge it—no, it felt great, really, really great, because his mother never gave praise unless it was due. His mother was critical of everything, which made her praise all the sweeter. 

“Mom… you raised me. It’s because of you that I have this job. This is your hard work paying off. Dad… I mean, well, Dad is Dad. He never said much. Tried to be my friend. Dad was too passive and quiet to be hard on me. I’m not trying to say anything bad about Dad… how did I mess this up?” 

“No, I understand.” Sunbeam Shimmer lifted her head and turned to look at her son. “Dapper was the nurturer and I was the disciplinarian. You and I need to have a talk about that.” 

He wondered what his mother meant by that. 

“Your father is a wonderful pony and my very best friend.” Sundance saw sadness in his mother’s eyes as she spoke. “All of the best parts of you come from your father. Your quiet patience. Your forbearance. You have his sense of duty and obligation. Me, I’m not good at patience. During your long project, you became more and more like your father. That quiet devotion that he has.” 

“Dad called you brash—” 

“And Dapper was right. He was absolutely right. He called me a brute. Sometimes, I am. I work a dangerous beat, you know?” Sunbeam shook her head and a sad smile graced her muzzle while laugh lines deepened around the corners of her eyes. “These ponies here in this place, they need you to be like Dapper. You need to be like Dapper, and not a hot-blooded brute like your mother. From what I’ve been told, these ponies here have suffered beneath a brute for long enough.” 

Now, with all these words fresh in his mind, he had some sense of understanding of why Princess Celestia picked him. A pony like his mother might be a bit too hard on these ponies, and if they became snarky, as they were wont to do, her response would be downright authoritarian. She would organise them, schedule them, and instill order of the worst kind. Flinching from his own thoughts, he turned away, feeling ashamed for thinking this way about his mother. 

All of the things that made her a good police officer would not make her a good baroness. 

This brought to his attention that his own policies were rather lax. So far, he’d let his peasants do as they pleased—and plenty of work had been done. Work they were glad to do. He had freed them to work on their own projects because they had a better understanding of what the barony needed than he did. He didn’t need to be commanding, he just had to sit back, watch, offer a bit of heartfelt praise, and do his own part to dig the barony out of debt. Somehow. 

“Finish your tea, Sunny. Don’t want you resorting to hooliganism. Doubly so now that you’re a baron. You and I, we need to have a private chit-chat. There’s things that I’m itching to say and I have no doubt that you need to hear them.” 

Hearing this did not make Sundance anxious; in fact, quite the opposite. It put his mind at ease, for some odd reason. He suspected that he knew what his mother wanted to talk about and it would be a relief of sorts to talk. Meeting Hennessy, Rustic, and Turmeric had given him some understanding of himself. Not much, but enough to be curious. His mother, no doubt, wanted to discuss his confusing porn collection. 

And he was willing to oblige her.
> Two suns shine twice as bright
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two pegasus ponies stood atop a stone shelf that jutted out from the sheer cliff in the rear of the box canyon, near the waterfall that cascaded into the settlement below. Though similar in some ways, both were as different as could be. This did not separate them though—far from it—their differences kept them together and the bond between them could be described as ‘unbreakable.’ It was a profound bond, one that went further than just mother and son; ‘twas the bond between pegasus ponies, the power of the flock. 

The wind, playful, tugged on their manes, pulled at their tails, and ruffled their feathers. Off to the distant west, the sun crept ever-closer to the horizon, heading off to visit distant lands, and to bless all living things with glorious, warm light. Overhead, clouds rolled in from the north, but the breeze blew in steady from the south. Below, the industrious ponies of the Sunfire Barony made the most of the remaining daylight, which was treated as a precious commodity. 

“I don’t know how you do it, Sunny.” Sunbeam Shimmer scraped some of the green moss from the stone with her hoof while speaking, and her tail flicked with her every word. “To be completely honest, I couldn’t live this way. No electricity? I like my creature comforts. To go without a freezer stocked full of ice cream is the worst fate I could think of.” 

Though he wasn’t sure what to say, Sundance responded anyway. “It’s only temporary. Things will get better.” 

“Sunny, this isn’t like fixing up a bad neighborhood in a city. This… this is… I can’t even say what this is. This is neolithic. I mean, you have caves and huts, Sunny. And everything smells like really bad eggs.” Lifting her hoof, she looked down, saw the green stain, and stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Ugh, nature is gross, so gross. It needs to be restricted to proper zoning, like parks and designated beautification buffer zones to raise property values.” 

“Wait till you see how dark it gets,” he said to his mother, almost chuckling. 

“We need to talk about the contents of your trunk.” 

Sundance’s urge to laugh died with an alarming suddenness. He knew it was coming, it was expected, but to hear his mother say it still caused him some distress. Distracted, he thought of his time with Turmeric. He’d never been closer to understanding himself than he was right now and perhaps, if he was brave enough to face the moment, his mother might help him make sense of things. 

“When I first opened it up, and saw what was in there, I laughed. I mean, it struck me as one of the most normal things you’ve done. But then I started looking through there… and Sunny… I have to say, some of those things I saw, they shocked me a bit. You gave your mom a scare.” 

“I went through some confusing phases,” he said to his mother while he kept his eyes focused on the distant horizon. 

“After seeing the evidence, I treated it like a crime scene—” 

“Mom!” 

“No, hear me out, will you?” Sunbeam’s hooves clopped against the mossy stone and her folded wings twitched and flapped against her sides, revealing her discomfort. “I treated it like a crime scene. Logic, reasoning, and deduction. I tried to see what I could learn from it. I asked Cameo from work to help me. Do you remember Cameo?” 

“No, Mom, I’m sorry.” Extending one wing, Sundance closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. 

“She’s a criminal psychologist. Trained under Princess Cadance herself. Without telling her who the magazines belonged to, I asked her to create as detailed of a profile as she possibly could based on what she found.” 

Saying nothing, he kept rubbing his brow, kneading the skin with his wing knuckle. He thought back to all the times his mother asked him why he wasn’t dating, why he wasn’t looking, and worse, why he didn’t seem interested. This made too much sense; his mother was the analytical type and she needed reasons for everything. Of course, his mother would go off in search of answers after having a look at his confusing porn stash. 

“I wasn’t sure if I could make rational, unbiased decisions to help you all by myself,” Sunbeam said to her son. She blinked a few times, stepped closer, and stared down at her front hooves. “This was a cry for help, right? I mean, it had to be. You sent me that combination, knowing what I’d find.” 

Was it? Had he done so without realising it? He was lonely; it was only after meeting like-minded others that he had started to think about just how isolated he felt. In fact, it was right now, this moment, while standing here next to his mother did he realise just how alone he was, and it was a tremendous relief to have help. Taking a deep breath, his cheeks bulged while he held it, and he tried to hold himself together while his mind began racing. 

“Yeah, you’re in trouble. No, I don’t mean you’re in trouble with me. You know what I mean, Sunny.” Sunbeam’s voice was as steady as the stone she stood on with her son. 

“So, uh, what did, uh, your co-worker tell you?” Sundance licked his lips and prepared himself for whatever was about to be said next. His mother would tell it like it was, for good or for ill. Random muscles began twitching and his wingpits felt sweaty. His neck felt hot and prickly, while his heart hammered against his guts. 

“A lot, actually.” Sunbeam avoided looking at her son. “It’s fascinating, really. The magazines have dates. They show wear and tear. A thorough examination shows and tells a lot about a pony. The earliest ones were pretty common stuff, the sort of thing you might find stashed in any colt’s room. You were about thirteen or so, based on the earliest date she found, which she mentioned was a late age to develop interests, but she also said that earlier magazines might not have been kept, so that wasn’t good evidence.” 

Gulping, he took another deep breath. 

“Things deviated quickly,” his mother continued while looking off in another direction. “A fair bit of gay porn could be found, and not just any gay porn. No vanilla gay porn to be found, just the really weird stuff. But this seems to be a phase that lasted for all of about two years or so and there were other interests during this phase of heightened curiousity. A lot of wear and tear though.” 

For reasons unknown, Sundance thought of his phys-ed teacher, the stallion that had been his first real crush, the handsome, muscular fellow that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. There had been all manner of confusing, involuntary reactions. The sound of his deep, commanding voice still echoed in Sundance’s ears, demanding more wing-ups and laps around the gymnasium. 

“Mom, how did she know my age?” 

“I presented you as a suspect,” his mother replied. 

“Oh.” Sundance breathed a little easier and to calm himself down, he closed his eyes. 

“Then came the bodybuilder phase. So many bodybuilder magazines. I must confess, those threw me for a loop, because you were never the musclehead type. But then I realised that you weren’t reading the articles… you had them for the pictures. That… that… well, I didn’t know what to think. They weren’t exactly pornographic… not explicit. It completely changed quite a number of my perceptions, let me tell you. Chiseled Mare Monthly made me feel a little inadequate, and I take really good care of myself. Those mares were ripped.” 

Cringing, those were words that Sundance never wanted to hear his mother saying. 

“After that, an overall theme of submissiveness pervaded everything. Lots of sadomasochism. Mares marehanding submissive, effeminate stallions. There was some weird, weird stuff about tea parties that I found pretty amusing, but also disturbing. Who’da thunk of a tea enema? Forcing a bad, bad, naughty stallion to drink his tea, one way or the other?” 

Shivering, Sundance covered his face with his wings. As far as unbearable moments went, this was pretty much the worst. Tea was necessary to keep hooliganism away. It had to be drank regularly. The ritual, as well as his mother’s bold insistence, it had left its mark on him, it had somehow filtered into every aspect of his life, including his sexuality. And now, his mother knew. She knew about the steamy tea parties and he wasn’t sure if he could ever look her in the eye ever again. 

“Cameo told me I was dealing with an extreme submissive deviant. Somepony with elaborate fantasies about domination. Somepony who probably had an over-domineering mother that controlled far too many aspects of their lives. She looked me right in the eye while she was saying that. She’s brazen, and bold, I’ll give her that.” 

Taking a deep breath, Sundance hoped the worst was over. 

“Which brings us to your father…” 

Now, Sundance’s eyes flew open and before he realised what it was that he was doing, he was staring at the back of his mother’s head. His father? His mother did say that they needed to have a talk about him, but for this conversation they were currently having to segue into a discussion about his father, and with the way his mother had said it… Sundance’s eyes narrowed. Ears pricked, he waited for his mother to continue.

“In light of what I discovered from Cameo, you and I need to have a talk about your father. I feel like a failure, Sunny. I didn’t connect the dots… I think it’s denial. I wanted something different for you. For the past few days, It has consumed my thoughts. I mean, all the signs were there, and I was completely oblivious. I think I blinded myself. Or maybe love makes you blind. I don’t know. And that’s the thing, Sunny, I should have known.” 

He watched his mother’s head turn and when their eyes met, he saw a tenderness in his mother’s gaze that he couldn’t recall seeing before. His mother was a hard mare, flinty, and there wasn’t much about her that could be considered soft—but he saw it now. It was as if she was a stranger that he was meeting for the first time. There was something else to be seen as well—fear. 

“You look so much like your father right now. I need a moment.” 

His mother turned away, wiped her eyes with her wing, shuddered a bit, and when she looked back at him once more, he saw a certain naked vulnerability that left him feeling embarrassed… uncertain. Nothing he had experienced in his life prepared him for this moment, seeing his mother this way. Not knowing how to act, or what to do, he stood there, unmoving, not knowing what was okay. 

“Your father was that weird colt in school,” his mother began. “Soft-spoken. Didn’t say much. Was bullied by everypony because he wouldn’t stand up for himself. Even I did it. I picked on him and I pushed him around and I teased him mercilessly for being a quiet little sissy.” 

Unable to believe what he was hearing, Sundance stood in silent, dumbfounded, shocked astonishment, staring at his mother. His mother didn’t care much for bullies, from what he had gathered. A detriment to society. And yet, here she was, confessing to having been one—to his father, no less. 

“One day, I realised that Dapper liked me picking on him… he got some kind of thrill from that… and I didn’t understand it. That threw me. I made things worse for him, because how dare he confuse me and make me question everything. I was relentless… even turned cruel.” Sunbeam sighed, her feathers ruffled, and her gaze came to rest upon the waterfall. 

His mother was now a stranger. 

“For reasons I’ll never know, I started to like him. I liked him because he was different. To this day, I still can’t explain what happened, but I got a crush on him, and that was when my whole life changed. He was a sad little colt. There’s a reason why your grandparents on his side stayed strangers. His dad drank a lot and his mother, well, the less said about his mother, the better.” Shaking her head, Sunbeam sighed. “Coffee drinkers, the both of them. This is why you drink tea.” 

Tossing her head about, she snorted in disgust. 

“As I started to get to know Dapper, I came to understand what the bullying had done to him. You have no idea how guilty I still feel to this very day about my own part it in it. For the first time in my life, I gained some real awareness for the consequences of my actions. I couldn’t even figure out why he liked me, not after what I did. But all of this had a profound effect upon me as a filly. Did a complete turn around. Became a hall monitor and got my cutie mark. Worked real hard to make sure the defenseless were defended. I guess I tried to atone for what I’d done.” 

This—this explained why his mother had gone into law enforcement. 

“Your father continued to be a wet noodle, and even though I tried to be kind about it, I was pushy and bossy and demanding. He liked it. It made him happy. I’d smother him and he’d be beside himself. The way he was, he gave me a headrush. I was at large and in charge. But I was also mindful… that was the hard part, Sunny. Your father had trouble saying no or resisting me. So I had to be extra careful with everything I did and everything I said. See, I had it in my head that I had to protect him, on account of how he was. I was young and stupid.” 

His vision blurry, Sundance blamed the sulphurous reek in the air. 

“We were foals, Sunny. Nothing made sense in those days, and we didn’t care. By sheer dumb luck, by chance, by circumstance, we fell in love and everything felt wonderful. It was great, Sunny. As a filly, I didn’t have to worry about the pressure that a filly usually feels when dating. Your father never so much as made a single demand. I never had to worry about him being devious, or sneaky, or perverted. And my mother, she loved him. She loved him enough to let him sleep over and stay whole weekends with us. Which was good, because just as things got serious between us, his parents began their separation, and it got messy fast.” 

A quivering smile spread across Sundance’s muzzle, even as he felt a little sad. 

“I got curious and frisky. Things got complicated after that. Your father, he was happy to oblige me, but I never could tell if he was really into it. I told myself he had to be, he was a colt, how could he not be? But the doubt was always there. It made me careful… cautious. Taught me empathy. I had to try and read his moods, but that’s hard to do when you’re a teenager.” 

He saw his mother squirm. 

“When I got pregnant, my mama, she didn’t go after him, no… she came after me. Your grandmother tore into me like a vengeful tornado. She loved Dapper, so I reckon she was conflicted. But she laid down the law on me. I don’t think you’ve ever seen your grandmother truly angry, Sunny, and I pray that you don’t. You’ve seen her peeved, and maybe annoyed. What you don’t know is, she has a mean streak a mile wide when it comes to protecting sweet, innocent critters and the like. Dapper was a sweet, innocent critter, and I wronged the universe itself by taking advantage of him.” 

With his trembling smile still on his face, Sundance listened. 

“Like I said, your father was the nurturer and I was the disciplinarian. Dapper… was submissive. And that was fun for a time. A lot of fun. You were born, I joined the police academy, and everything was perfect… right up to the point where it wasn’t.” Sunbeam clucked her tongue, her eyes filled with both tears and longing, and she cocked her head off to one side. 

“It started off with me being somewhat annoyed at constantly having to read him and his mood. Because there was no way that he’d come right out and say no. After a while, it got tiresome. I’d come home frisky and your grandmother would be working her shift and you’d be asleep. Dapper? A block of granite. He dropped out of school before completing his last year so he could take care of you. I could never get a clear answer out of him… ever. The problems started even before we were married.” 

Though filled with questions, Sundance—content to listen—gave voice to none of them. 

“Always getting your way gets tiresome real fast, Sunny. There’s never any satisfying sense of challenge. I wanted Dapper to tell me no. To fight me. To bicker and butt heads with me. But he made nary a peep. I’d get mad at him sometimes, I’d get real, real aggressive and I’d take my frustrations out on him… and he liked that. After that, he’d be super passive… he’d be so meek and submissive, because he knew that it’d push me over the edge. Things got complicated at some point, and the simplicity we once had departed.” 

Reaching out with her wing, Sunbeam wiped her eyes. When she pulled her wing away, her feelings could be seen on her face, unfettered. She made no attempt to hide them. Turning off to one side, she began to pace, walking the length of the jutting rock, moving at a steady gait, her hooves making clip-clop sounds against the stone. 

“I still love your father, Sunny. Please, remember that.” Clearing her throat, Sunbeam swiped at her eyes again with her wing while she continued to pace. “Sometimes, ponies are better off as friends, Sunny. Your father… he brought out the best in me. Because of him, I found my calling in life. I had you. I am what I am because of him. But he also brought out some bad parts of me. And you… you… well, you and your father have something in common, I think. Good luck ever getting him to talk about it, because he won’t. I don’t think he could even if he wanted to. I’m not saying that to be mean, mind you. He’s just… incapable.” 

“The divorce,” Sundance said, breaking his long silence. “What happened?” 

“Oh, that.” His mother looked him in the eye, sad, her expression one of profound regret. “That happened years before you were aware of it. It’s funny, because that was the only time Dapper ever told me no in any sort of meaningful way. We were about two years or so into our marriage and I brought it up while we were eating. You were with your grandmother.” 

Wincing, Sundance made himself listen. 

“Your father said it would hurt you. Told me no. I was shocked. What he said was so… well… the fact that he refused me… I jumped him right there on the table. Look, I know that you might not want to hear this, but it was the best sex we ever had, and even he said so. After that, things were better between us. Different. We were best friends with a shared purpose. A goal. Best friends who occasionally fronked one another. It’s weird, but after that… the bickering mostly went away. We had this agreement, we had each other, and we had you. I can’t say that life was perfect, but it was pretty damn good. It’s like… the pressure went away. I can’t explain it.” 

“So… I’m like my father.” For Sundance, this wasn’t a question. He thought of his new friends and a part of him wondered what his father’s life might be like if he’d found some like-minded companions. His father, for better or worse, had been sucked into his mother’s wake, to put it in the most pegasusian terms possible. From the sounds of it, his father had coasted, rather than fly on his own. 

“Yes,” his mother said, nodding. “And apparently, I’m in denial. I mean, I lived with you. I never booted you out. It was nice having you around, because you’re so much like your father. Always quietly there and never one to cause a fuss. And according to Cameo, my domination was such that I satisfied your need to be submissive. I suppose I’m somewhat to blame for how you are. I don’t know. Sundance, I’m still taking all of this in. Cameo said a lot of things. Like, a whole lot of things. I’m pretty sure that she knew those magazines were yours. She’s brilliant… and… I’m not. Not like her, anyhow. I’m guessing she saw right through my clever ruse.” 

“Did Cameo think I was gay?” he asked, finally comfortable enough to just let everything out. 

“No.” Sunbeam shook her head from side to side. “I asked. She said there was a chance, but the material was more to do with the themes of dominance and submission. That was the constant theme to be found in almost everything. But, Sunny, if you are gay, that’s fine. You’ll still be my little ray of sunshine. Well, my gay ray of sunshine.” 

“Mom, sometimes, I wonder.” Brows furrowing, he cast his eyes skyward. “Sometimes, I’d think about… you know. There’s a part of me that wants to know what it’s like.” 

“You and your father both,” Sunbeam said to her son while she too, looked everywhere but in Sundance’s direction. “Sunny, you find the right mare, and you can find out what it’s like—” 

“You mean that’s real? That’s not just a porn thing? It’s actually a real real thing that really happens?” 

“This is not the conversation I imagined having with my son,” Sunbeam said under her breath while shuffling about. “Yes, that’s real, it really happens, and honestly, Sunny, I thought you were smarter. Of course it happens in real life, how do you think it ends up in movies and magazines?” 

“Mom, you told me that I can’t believe what I see in movies, because that stuff isn’t real.” 

Sunbeam Shimmer’s expression turned deadpan. She stood there, still, unmoving, and even the wind had ceased to blow, as if respecting the sudden silence. A look of profound disappointment crept over the mare’s face as her nostrils flared. After several long seconds that felt more like minutes, she snorted. 

“Yep, that one is entirely my fault. I said something, and you, being the good pony that you are, took me at my word. So this one is wholly and completely on me. I should not have done that. I had one job. One job. Be a good mom. Whatever you do, don’t tell your grandmother about this, she’ll twist my ear off.”

A profound sense of relief washed over Sundance, but it wasn’t something he could put into words. With relief came some embarrassment, because he had just revealed his naiveté to his mother. This embarrassment turned to relief as well, because his mother had not cast judgment—she had taken the blame for it, which left him just a little speechless. He wanted to ask what she had meant about his father, but there was no way that he could do that and not immediately chuck himself off the cliff. 

“Sunny… don’t make the same mistakes your father did. I can’t imagine how hard it might be, but you need to communicate your needs. You’ll find the right mare… the right partner. But don’t be so passive that you leave them guessing. That’s only fun for a time, because it gets old real fast. Your father, he’d leave hints and play guessing games. I found clues of things he wanted to try… things he wanted me to do to him… he’d leave crudely drawn pictures of stick ponies inside my hat, or my coat pocket, or under my plate. That was as close as he came to making demands. Requests? As the years passed, his stick ponies showed a lot of improvement, let me tell you.” 

Hating himself, he had to know. He had to know. “Do you and Dad…” His words trailed off and he wondered if his face might melt. 

“Yes. Every chance we get. I’ve never been with anypony else and I can’t imagine being with anypony else. As for your dad… he’s too timid to go looking. I can deal with your dad in small doses. Honestly, things got better once we stopped living together. I stopped being so frustrated all the time. When I saw him, it was on my terms. Look, life is weird sometimes. Things don’t always turn out as you might expect. The story books, the movies, they deal in normal lives, but not every life is normal. You can’t shape your expectations on what you see in films and books. If you do, you’ll be disappointed.” 

He thought about how his mother had just admitted that she had been wrong about movies. The breeze picked up, returning, and it was cold. Clouds swirled overhead and the skies had grown dark, though not from night. The scent of thunder was in the air and he could feel a faint electric tingle in his wings. During the whole of his life, he had never been closer to his mother than he was right now, and he was grateful for this chance to talk. 

Was it better for his mom now that he had left home? Was he easier to deal with in small doses? Some questions were better left unasked, unsaid, unmentioned. Quite by accident, he had come to Canterlot, and found himself—at least some aspect of himself. Now, he was having this heartfelt conversation with his mother. But she seemed less his mother now, and more of… his friend? Something had changed between them, but what? 

So much was still unknown.
> Making the case for abduction
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sunny, you have an owl on your head.” 

Smiling, Sundance allowed his mother to see him as he was. “I get told that a lot, actually. His name is Owlister.” 

“I’ve never slept in a birdhouse before,” Sunbeam remarked while tossing her head around. “You know, I might have to invest in a sleeping box. I think I rather liked it. Something about it satisfies, you know what I mean?” 

“I’m glad I had a second cargo crate.” Sundance watched as his mother sorted herself out and grinned as the mischievous wind teased her. Things were different now between them, some fundamental aspect of their relationship had changed over night. Whatever they once had was no more, it was gone now, and replaced with something else, something better, perhaps. But for all of the many thoughts running laps inside of his mind, all that came out of his mouth was small talk. 

“Do you really have to go so soon?” he asked. 

“I wish I didn’t,” she replied while she shook her short, bobbed mane, a vain attempt to make it somewhat presentable. “Things aren’t good, Sunny. The day after you left, they bumped all our shifts up to twelve hours. Unrest is getting worse. With the war, the lack of jobs, and everything else, the city feels more and more like a boil, ready to pop. They’re talking about curfews, Sunny. Curfews. Ponies who work the night shifts will have to have a pass or face arrest for being out after dark. Thefts are at an all time high.” 

Pressing his lips together, Sundance scowled. “There’s a mare here who stole. She was trying to feed her foals—” 

“That’s no excuse!” 

“Actually, Mom, I think it is.” Seeing the fury in his mother’s eyes, he stood his ground, even though it made him mightily uncomfortable to do so. “I’ve talked to her a bit, Mom. Now, I’m not excusing what she’s done, but I understand why she did it. The powers-that-be sent her here, for whatever reason.” 

“She needs to be in prison! A clear message must be sent to the others!” 

“And what about her foals? Toss them into an already overcrowded orphanarium? What is it that you keep telling me? That those foals are just criminals in waiting? That we should just save time and money by shipping them all off to penal colonies, because that’s where they’ll end up? What’s already being done clearly isn’t working.” His mother’s feathers were ruffled—big time—and he saw her biting her lip. “I’m glad she was sent here. Perhaps I can break the cycle. Perhaps I can do something better. Her life is mine to do with as I see fit, and I aim to make something worthwhile with it.” 

Sunbeam fumed, she stared down her muzzle with a ferocious scowl for a time, but then her expression changed to one of confused befuddlement. “I’ve never seen you like this before, Sunny. You stood up to me. Why, I think you almost bared your teeth for a moment. This isn’t like you at all.” She blinked, now more confused than ever. “Sunny, are you telling me that you… that you… are you saying that you own another pony?” 

Huffing, he turned away with such suddenness that Owlister let out an alarmed hoot. 

“Sundance, answer me.” 

“Look, I’m not keen on the idea, Mom. That’s one part of the job that I’m not comfortable with. Not at all. It’s the way things are. They’re mine and I’m responsible for them. I must provide for their needs. I am the Baron of this demesne. It scares me… I’m still trying to make sense of it all.” 

“Maybe we should go back to the old ways and old days,” Sunbeam said, her muzzle contorting in unpleasant ways. “What we’re doing now clearly isn’t working. Sundance, I’d better never hear of you exploiting your position, or so help me—” 

“I know, Mom, I know!” Again, he whirled about and again, Owlister let out an alarmed hoot while trying to hold on. “The last lord of the land was a despicable two-bit shit! He obviously didn’t have a mother he was afraid of disappointing! He did atrocious things that every day I learn a little more about and it makes me sick! It makes me sick and I’m under all this pressure and I know I have to do right and I’m constantly worrying if I’m the right pony for this job!” 

“There’s no way I raised a shirker.” Sunbeam’s voice was a frosty deadpan, devoid of emotion or feeling. Her ears were rigid, erect, and her nostrils were wide, flaring. “I raised a perfect son who is more than capable of doing anything asked of him. A son with limitless potential. Doubt is the enemy. So you take that doubt, you smack it down, and you trample it to a fine bloody mess under hoof. We’re pegasus ponies… we’re pegasus ponies of an ancient and storied bloodline. It was you that restored our past, and with our past in mind, we must face our future. Mine is protecting the city… and you… your future is here, doing whatever it is that you must do. No doubt, no fear, no shirking!” 

“Yeah!” Sundance had no idea what had come over him at the moment, but he liked it. 

“We don’t get pushed around, we throw down!” Sunbeam shouted.

“Yeah!” 

“You be a good lord of the land and remember to drink your tea. We can’t have you succumbing to hooliganism. Stay away from coffee, it’s bad for you. Don’t let anything eat your peasants. Make them eat you instead! Ram your way down their throat and eviscerate them from the inside! And remember, no shirking.” 

“Yeah? From the inside?” Sundance deflated a bit as a vague sense of unease crept over him. “You’re leaving.” 

“I have a long way to fly home, Sunny. Trains are too expensive and rent is far too costly.” 

“Mom, are you going to be okay without me there to help with the rent?” 

“You have enough to worry about, Sunny. I’ll manage.” His mother’s sad eyes stood out in sharp contrast to her stony exteriour. “That was quite a storm last night, Sunny. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. This place of yours is amazing. Try to get some electricity going before I stop in again.” 

Before he was prepared for it, his mother embraced him and Sundance was caught off guard. She squeezed him, kissed him once just below his eye, squeezed him for a second time, and then, before pulling away, she said, “I love you, Sunny. Do what you must to make the world a better place, okay?” 

“Sure thing, Mom.” Steeling himself, he watched as she slipped away. “I love you too.” 

Then, with a smile on her face, she spread her wings and took flight. In mere moments, she had gained considerable altitude, circling to catch whatever updrafts there might be, and then she took off in a south-easterly direction. Watching her go, he was already missing her, and wondering when he might see her again. 

In no time at all, she was a speck on the horizon. 





Whatever mess the storm had left behind was already gone. Everything was already neat and tidy. Sundance appreciated how little he had to do to keep this place orderly. His peasants, the good ponies that they were, took pride in where they lived. They were good ponies, remarkably so, and deserved a worthwhile guardian. 

He thought of what his mother said just before leaving. 

“Milord, a word if I might.” Earwig approached with her ears pinned back and her head down. “It’s Hollyhock, Milord.” 

“Is something wrong, Earwig?” He gave his full attention to the mare, because this wasn’t like her at all. Since when was she so subdued? 

“Call it a bad feeling, Milord. She’ll pop soon—” 

“Soon? How soon?” 

“Well, it’s spring. Foaling happens in the spring, ‘cept when it don’t. I don’t mean to cause a fuss, but I have me a bad feeling about this. Her back is hurting her a lot. Her piss is the wrong colour and it smells off too. Her teats is sore and too tender to touch. I’m telling ya this because ya care about these things, Sire.” Earwig glanced around, her eyes shifty, and then she whispered, “She won’t say a thing because she’s hardheaded and don’t want to cause no fuss.” 

“I could haul her into Canterlot—” 

“Sire, I’m not one to tell ya what to do, but she’s fit to pop any day now. Her back is killing her. I don’t think she needs to be jostled around. When I touched her stomach this morning, she bawled like a kicked foal.” 

Chewing his lip, Sundance thought about his options. There wasn’t a lot of money. Earwig was right; hauling Hollyhock into town was probably a bad idea. Something needed to be done, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Earwig was asking him for help though, which he took as a promising sign. 

“Sire…” 

“Yes, Earwig?” 

“Sire, you could go a-raiding. One of the other tribes around here might have a midwife you could steal. Just swoop in and snatch her. Then she’ll be ours.” 

“How would I know which one is the midwife?” he asked before his brain could apply some reasoning. 

Frowning, Earwig shook her head from side to side. “I don’t know.” 

“If I snatched a midwife, what makes you think she’d help us?” Sundance entertained the idea, but only in a theoretical sense; it was something he would never act on, and he was shocked that Earwig would even suggest such a thing. 

“Milord, a hot poker is a powerful tool for convincing. Ya wouldn’t have to brand her, just wave it around a bit. Let her smell the smoke coming off of it. She’ll come around to our way of thinking, right fast. Let Cucumber do his thing if yer squeamish.” 

“Earwax… would you want me to do that to one of you?” His words caused considerable confusion in the poor mare, and she gave him a blank stare in return. “Would you want me to threaten you with a hot poker?” 

“But… yer one of us, Milord. You’ve shown that. You saved my sister. I’m not saying to burn the poor lass. She’d have to be made to do right until she was one of us.” 

“With a hot poker?” he asked. 

“Well, that’s one way,” she replied. 

“Earwig, I can’t spot a midwife from the air. I mean, I have no way of knowing. Also, I have no intention of snatching another pony. That’d be barbaric. After I’ve done so much to earn your trust, I can’t believe you’d ask me to do something horrible to another pony. Wouldn’t that make me not-trustworthy?” 

“You do alright by us.” Earwig gave him a dense, sullen stare. “I don’t much care what you do to others. We look out for our own. There’s just us, our tribe, and this barony. We could use a few new faces around here, and you’d do well to take those faces from those with faces to spare.” 

Sundance began to understand why he was in charge. 

“Would you want to be taken by another baron?” he asked. 

“That depends.” 

“Oh, I want to hear this. Do tell.” 

“Well, that depends if he uses the hot poker or not. If he just waves it around and lets me smell the smoke, it might not be so bad. I might be okay. But if he’s all touchy-touchy with the hot poker, I’d have my hopes high that you’d come to rescue me. You’d come and fetch me if I was stolen, right?” 

As much as he wanted this to be a joke, he saw that Earwig was serious. Clearly, he needed to be serving more tea, because this reeked of hooliganism. Rather than chastise her, rather than scold her, he chose to put her mind at ease. “Yes, I’d come and rescue you. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to figure out where to find a midwife.” 

“Milord, yer the best. Thanks!” With a pleased smile, Earwig shuffled off. 

Muttering to himself, Sundance worried that tea would have to be served twice a day.
> To lob a kebab
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The problem with Château Nouveau was that Sundance never quite knew what to expect on arriving. It was a busy, bustling place and it was easy to get distracted from one’s purpose upon entering. One could get caught up in the drama, the spectacle, it was easy to get swept away by a torrent, a sudden swell of emotion. But not today; today, Château Nouveau was quiet. 

It almost felt like study hall, when everypony was preparing for a test. 

Lady Pebble Pie was still in second place and Lord Sterling Standard still held the top position. Nobles old and young had their snoots tucked into books. A few looked at him, some sniffed as he passed, but mostly, he was just ignored. He was distracted by a burly earth pony mare who went strutting by; she wore light armor that most certainly wasn’t ceremonial or ornamental. Her helm was of the most unusual, most eye-catching design, but he hardly paid it a second glance. He was far too focused on her legs, which were like rippling tree trunks. 

She came to a stop near a youngish unicorn mare and went as still as a statue. 

Reminding himself of why he was here, Sundance trotted over to the message exchange to look for anything that might be useful. Professionals were posted here, general labour, ponies seeking positions, as well as various services. Armed guards seemed plentiful, along with hastily scribbled reminders of the Canterlot rat threat. Eyes darting from note to note, he wasn’t sure if he warranted the services of armed guards, because basically, he was a nopony. He couldn’t imagine somepony wanting to hurt him, or why. 

An artist colony here in Canterlot wanted a pickle barrel and five-hundred cumquats. In return, they offered a dignified portrait painting. This gave Sundance ideas, grand thoughts about sponsoring artists and allowing them to live in his barony. Artists needed food, a roof over their head, and patronage. Sometimes, artists made money… sometimes, not so much. Perhaps really old artists might be good, those with only a few years left in them. Yes, a retirement community for old artists, and with their imminent demise, their works could only go up in value. 

The hot springs would be enticing and for artists who were compelled to suffer, there was the ever-present stench. 

Among the listings there were no midwives, but there was a doctor. A surgeon, by description, with a long list of demands and no mention of a salary. Somepony wanting to set up a practice, no doubt. Sighing in frustration, Sundance shook his head. The listings were just not as helpful as he had hoped. What had he been expecting? He didn’t know. 

“There you are, I thought you might be here.” 

Smiling a bit, more to be polite than anything, Sundance turned to face Fleur Dis Lee. “Did my stink give me away?” 

For a second, Fleur appeared mortified, but she recovered with remarkable aplomb. “Dearest darling, you are a busy pony, and this is where busy ponies can be found. The movers and the shakers gather here. Are you not a mover and a shaker? Is there something I can help you with?” 

He admired her recovery and took notes. This is how one nobled. She was good and he aspired to be like her with his dealings. Having learned something, he got right to the point. “I need a midwife. Maybe a doctor. Not sure.” 

Fleur’s brows furrowed in a thoughtful, delicate way. Her long, slender muzzle contorted for a moment, her lips pursing into a thoughtful pucker, and her right ear twitched as she stood there, clearly lost in thought. “If you’ve come in search of a temporary solution, I can help you. But if you should desire a long-term solution, I know of one.” 

There was something about Fleur’s expression that intrigued Sundance. 

“She’s a nurse and an alchemist. Quite brilliant. She’s had… shall we say, issues when it comes to finding work.” 

Shifting from his right hooves to his left hooves, Sundance waited. The lack of details concerned him and he concluded that Fleur was dancing around some uncomfortable issue. “Is she an alcoholic?” 

“Oh, gracious! Perish the thought! No!” 

“Horribly disfigured?” 

“Goodness! How grotesque!” 

“Unbearable halitosis?” 

“What? No!” Fleur began to tremble and her bottom lip quivered. “Well, maybe a little, but she can’t help it.” 

This was not the answer he expected. Having caught poor Fleur off guard, he grinned. “Bad breath is the least of my concerns, given my environment. What aren’t you telling me?” 

“I’ll not tell you,” Fleur said while her expression hardened. “I shall be happy to show you though. Are you open-minded, Baron Sundance?” 

“Not so much so that my brain falls out,” he replied, attempting to be witty, “but there’s enough room in there for broad subjects.” 

Somehow, Fleur managed to appear both disgusted and hopeful at the same time. Perhaps the mention of brains left her queasy, or it might have been his awful attempt at humour. Casting aside his poor attempts at humour, Sundance got down to the matter at hoof. “I have a sick pregnant mare. The sooner I can get help, the better. If I need to keep an open mind to get help, then that’s what I’ll do.” 

“Excellent. Come with me. We’ll have a delightful walk together.” 



 

Sundance was glad that he had left his sky truck back at Château Nouveau because Madam Marmy’s Boarding House & Kitchen had no parking whatsoever. It was a three story brick building that seemed out of place in Canterlot, but also right at home in the Griffon District, which had other brick buildings. The Griffon District had quite a different look and feel from the rest of Canterlot; not poorer, not a ghetto, just different. 

It might be the buildings, or the meat markets, or the fact that some of the Griffon District was built into the sheer cliffside below the city. While tiny, visiting gave the distinct feeling that one had gone to another place, a place not-Canterlot. While there were plenty of griffons here, as the name suggested, there were tremendous numbers of pegasus ponies here, whom also shared the means to access the many apartments built into the cliffside below. 

The streets were even narrower here, if such a thing were somehow possible, and everything felt far more claustrophobic. Flying creatures had little need for streets or things that took up room, like stairways and accessways. Everywhere there were signs posted on buildings, warning potential visitors that there were no elevators or stairs to access the upper floors. 

Other than the smell of meat kebabs, this wasn’t a bad place. 

“Dearest darling, that brisk walk was invigourating, was it not?” Fleur made a dramatic gesture with her hoof. “Madam Marmy is a dear old friend of mine. A most curious character, she’s a pegasus raised by griffons right here in Equestria. She has some delightful quirks. The two of you should get to know one another.” 



 

Sundance’s first impression of Madam Marmy was one that left him filled with unease; she was sitting on a tall wooden stool eating a kebab smothered in some kind of bright-orange sauce. The chunks of meat were unknown, but the things that appeared to be curled-up fingers were probably shrimp. How did he know this? He wasn’t sure, but it left him disgusted with himself. 

“Fleur!” Marmy smacked her sauce-covered lips and waved the saucy kebab in her fetlock around. “Oh, hey, who’s your friend? Homina, homina, homina!” 

“Oh, Marmy, you’re so bold! No kisses, dearest, you’re covered in sauce.” Fleur backed away, wary of saucy kisses of greeting. “This is Baron Sundance, of the Sunfire Barony.” With a smart turn, the demure mare faced Sundance. “Baron Sundance, this is Madam Marmy.” 

Shuffling a bit, Sundance allowed himself to be eyeballed by the hungry mare, feeling self-conscious during every awkward second. The wooden floor he shuffled about upon was scuffed with the passing of a great many claws and hooves. Marmy licked the sauce off of her lips, licked her lips yet again while her eyes lingered upon him, and with a neat flick of her hoof, tossed the remains of her kebab out an open window. Then, with her eyes never leaving him, she began licking bright orange sauce off of her hoof. 

“Hmm, I wouldn’t kick you out of my nest for eating green bean crunchies,” Marmy remarked as she dismounted from her tall stool with a slick flap of her wings. She landed with a supple, feline grace and there was something about her that just wasn’t equine in her mannerisms. 

“Such a delightful, bold mare.” Fleur sighed the words while gracefully striking a pose. “We’re here to see Corduroy. Oh, I do hope to see her employed. She’s so deserving.” 

“Captain Sizzle Feathers here seems like the quiet type,” Marmy said to Fleur. Then, turning to Sundance once more, she beamed. “I know you. Flew into Canterlot during that spring blizzard. It was in all the papers. Everybirdy kept talking about how stupid you had to be to do such a thing, but I thought it was awesome. I worked with the Canterlot Fire Department for a time, but I got bored with it. It just wasn’t exciting enough and they didn’t appreciate me taking risks. You like taking risks, Captain Sizzle Feathers?” 

Ignoring his racing heart, Sundance played it cool when he replied, “I do what needs to be done. I don’t shy away from danger.” 

“I’m dangerous,” said Marmy while her eyes narrowed in an enticing, thrilling way. “Make your approach with caution, Captain Sizzle Feathers. My landing strip has big bumps.” With a coy turn of her head, she batted her eyelashes up at Sundance, and then began giggling when Fleur squirmed. “I’ll go get Corduroy for you. You be nice to her, or else.”



 

The sitting room was almost bare. In the middle of the narrow room was a low oval table and scattered around it were a collection of threadbare cushions to sit on. No pictures hung on the walls, there was no clock, there wasn’t much of anything. Just a table and a few cushions. After looking around, Sundance reached the conclusion that this was the sort of place that didn’t charge much for a room. Though bare, the walls were interesting enough, as the various colours of red bricks formed eye-catching patterns. 

Fleur stood near the narrow window, looking out. Her brows had a faint wrinkle about them, her ears were pricked, and her tail swished back and forth in an agitated, fitful manner. Sundance watched her for a moment, grateful for her help, and wondered what he had done to deserve such a benevolent benefactor. 

“Marmy is wasting her talents here,” said Fleur to Sundance, almost murmuring. “Running a flophouse is ill-befitting a mare of her capabilities. She’s sociable, charming, outgoing, she is kind to others, that mare has a wealth of assets. Though she is perhaps a bit rough around the edges, but that seems to be fashionable at the moment. As a bonus, she would also make a functional bodyguard.” 

“Bodyguard?” Sundance’s head tilted off to one side while he uttered the one word that stood out. 

“Marmy is an accomplished barroom brawler. I’ve never known her to actually start a fight, goodness no. But when trouble starts, she’s not one for fainting or fleeing. Even the rats of Canterlot give her a width berth after she poured boiling oil down one of their burrow-holes. Yes, dearest Marmy would make for a fine Lady for some lucky Lord.” 

“Boiling oil?” He couldn’t help it; his mind kept getting stuck on the words that stood out most. 

“Fancy Pants was quite beside himself. The appalling stench lingered for weeks. We had to have our tower professionally fumigated to be rid of the unpleasant aroma of crispy chicken fried rat.” 

“Chicken fried rat?” Certain details simply could not be ignored. 

“We invited Marmy over for a social mixer. I had hopes that somepony would find her charming, if perhaps a bit rough and tumble. Fancy Pants and I had such high hopes. She was doing so well, but then the rats crashed the party and she did what she did… and now those of gentle breeding avoid her like the plague. I still cling to my belief that she will make a fine Lady for just the right Lord.” 

Heaving a sigh, Fleur’s ears twitched. 

Reaching a sort of understanding, Sundance nodded. “Gentle breeding. Something tells me that a mare of gentle breeding wouldn’t do so well in some of the rougher baronies. I guess? I really don’t know. Come to think of it, I don’t know too many mares that have a fainting problem, but then again, I don’t know many mares at all.” 

“Many regions have gone back to barony status.” Fleur’s lips puckered for a moment and when they unpuckered, her ears relaxed and settled into a calmer position. “The Froggy Bottom Bogg is a barony again. Two of them, in fact. One in the marsh and the other in the southern forests along it’s edge.” 

Naked, vulnerable sadness appeared upon Fleur’s face without warning. 

“Canterlot was a mistake.” Something, either guilt or sorrow could be seen in her eyes, maybe both. “Canterlot was a mistake. The nobles left their lands to live here. They lost touch… they lost their connection. Soon, they became soft. Useless. Gentle breeding took over. In time, the nobles became relics. Museum pieces, and Canterlot the museum. My dearest Fancy Pants has so much to say on the issue.” 

Hope, like flickering candle flames, could be seen in Fleur’s eyes. “Marmy represents so many of the qualities I hope to see in the new breed of nobles. The new blood. For the nobility to survive, and Equestria with it, we must return to what once was. This new generation—your generation, dearest Sundance, must learn from the mistake that was, and is, Canterlot.” 

Just as Sundance was about to say something in return, another entered the room where he and Fleur stood waiting.
> The Sunflower sprouts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corduroy was not at all what Sundance was expecting. Terrified, panicked, surprised, caught off guard, he was all of these things and more. Diamond dogs were poachers and they hid behind trees. Slavers. Raiders. Bandits. His mother had said much about diamond dogs, and none of it, not one word of it had been nice. 

Yet, here one stood before him in Canterlot and this presented him with a conflicting, curious conundrum, one of intricate complexity. His mother was wrong or the fine, genteel nobles of Canterlot allowed ruffians in their midst. If this dog was the sort of creature his mother said it was, it would not be welcomed in civilised, cosmopolitan Canterlot. 

She wasn’t as big as the diamond dogs he had seen in the movies, who had all been scary, hulking brutes of the worst sort, savages who could barely speak a civilised word. In the middle of all of his confusion, he concluded that movies might have lied to him just a bit, perhaps intentionally trying to make him see the worst about diamond dogs to tamper with his perceptions. 

There was a lot to take in and whole seconds passed. 

“Corduroy, it is so nice to see you again. Are you well?” Fleur crossed the room, moving with a purposeful, but graceful gait. “Dearest, this is Baron Sundance, of the Sunfire Barony.” Upon reaching the diamond dog who stood just within the doorway, she paused. “You’re stressed, Corduroy. Another rejection? I’m so sorry. Please, come sit down.” 

The diamond dog was rather narrow-shouldered for its kind, and its arms started off somewhat slender near the shoulder, but broadened considerably near the paws. Her arms were long, very much so, and her massive paws hung near her knees. She was bone white, had a pink-purple nose, one pink eye, and one blue eye. A grey-green woollen smock covered in pockets covered most of her body and a scrap patchwork beanie sat atop her head. 

Her ears, two perky triangles, pricked out on either side of her beanie. 

Sundance, determined to be the pony that Fleur believed him to be, struggled to contain his fear. He was sweating a bit, fidgety, and he was almost certain that he could hear his mother’s voice on the fringes of his perception. Corduroy brought with her a medicinal smell and it made Sundance want to sneeze. 

So, sneeze he did. 

“Sol Celestia preserve you,” Fleur said to Sundance, with one fine eyebrow raised in concern. 

Was this his best impression? Poor Corduroy, was she thinking and feeling the same way? Worried about her first impression? Sundance was almost shaking with terror and fear, which he knew would be his undoing if left unchecked. He was slaloming the smokestacks at the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen again, doing so at impossible breakneck speed, with a faceful of epic stink. Going in almost blind and relying on whatever mystical senses pegasus ponies had. 

Almost at the point of hyperventilation, he found his calm and recovered. 

“Sundance, dearest, are you well? You appear a bit peaked. We could have Corduroy look at you. Is it too warm? Shall I open a window? You pegasus ponies have trouble with the heat sometimes, some of you. Those wings. Too much insulation.” Craning her head, Fleur looked up at her diamond dog friend and gave her an imploring look. 

“We’re both nervous,” Corduroy said, her words scratchy and rather subdued. “He’s scared of me and as for myself, I’m having something of a bad day.” 

“Dearest darling, what happened?” Fleur asked, forgetting all about Sundance. 

“I had a job… and lost it.” Corduroy looked dejected in the way that only dogs could. 

“Really?” Fleur, aghast, shook her head. “What happened?” 

“The hospital hired me with your reference,” the dejected dog replied, shaking her head. “There were multiple patient complaints about how intimidating I was. I was let go my first day on the job.” 

“That’s—” Whatever it was she was about to say failed to make it past Fleur’s lips. The hurt and pain that could be seen in her eyes was almost infectious and Corduroy reached down with her paw to console her distressed friend. 

Sundance began to feel a curious sense of shame that he was unfamiliar with. He didn’t like how it made his innards churn in the most unpleasant way. Suffering, he watched as Corduroy stroked and patted poor Fleur, who had taken this in the worst possible way. This was something one never saw in the movies, a kind, compassionate diamond dog trying to comfort a small, helpless pony. 

Anger joined his newfound sense of unfamiliar shame and then other emotions arrived as well, no doubt deciding it was time for a social mixer of some kind. Somepony needed to do something about this… this… well, whatever this was. The problem, the issue, it was so large that Sundance—not the smartest pony by far—could barely comprehend it. 

Had he said anything yet? Unable to recall, he began to succumb to his distress. Had he been standing here, silent, for all of this time? Surely he had something by now, but try as he might, he could not remember what it was. What a wonderful impression he must be making right now at this moment. 

“I’m sorry you lost your job,” he blurted out, perhaps a bit louder than he intended. 

“It was necessary, for the good health of the patients.” Corduroy lifted her paw away from Fleur’s slender neck and then gently nudged the distraught mare towards the oval table in the middle of the room, shepherding her along with careful pushes. 

“That’s a load of corn-flecked horseapples.” Too late, Sundance realised that he had said something offensive. Taking stock of the situation, he saw that Fleur was mortified on top of everything else, and Corduroy was giving him a peculiar look. He didn’t feel very noble right now, not at all, not even the teensiest, tiniest bit. 

“It’s a good thing I brought smelling salts, Baron Bedpan Mouth.” With a deft, quick movement, Corduroy swept Fleur up from the floor and holding her with great care, carried her over to a threadbare cushion, where she put the distressed mare down. 

How had he messed this up so badly? 

Corduroy didn’t talk like the diamond dogs in the movies either, with broken phrases of Equestrian. She was eloquent—more so than he was—and upon reaching this conclusion, he began to feel self-conscious. At the moment, he had all manner of insights, thoughts, his brain was a whirlwind of concepts that he had no hopes of ever putting into words. 

Fleur, even in her shaken state, was the one who salvaged the situation by saying, “Typically, an employer interviews the employee. That is how these things are done. A series of questions and answers so that the employer might learn the potential of their prospective employee’s.” 

Was he actually going to do this? What if his mother visited again? Unannounced. What might his peasants think? How could he convince them to accept his decision? Well, he could find a hot poker—no, no, no! He cut off this line of internal dialogue and shuddered. There had to be a way to do the right thing and reach a solution where all involved were happy. Enough wrong had been done. 

“So, uh, tell me about yourself. Why did you become a nurse? What made you become a nurse? What are your qualifications?” He’d never been at this end of an interview and had no idea what he was doing. 

Fleur heaved a sigh of relief that was far too large for her small, delicate frame. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how does a diamond dog become a nurse anyhow?” 

“By following Doctor Hedge around and asking him a million questions,” she replied. “If it helps you to understand me, I can start at the beginning.” 

“Oh, I think that would be for the best.” Fleur recovered enough to give Sundance a meaningful stare. “Corduroy did not grow up in the typical manner of diamond dogs. Not that all of them are bad, mind you!” Distressed now, she fell silent while her eyes darted to and fro. 

“I was rescued by an adventurer. Mister Teapot. He’s never told me the full details of everything that’s happened, only that he found me, abandoned. I suspect there are more details.” Corduroy folded her paws into her lap in a sort of prim and proper way. “I was brought to Buttons, who became my mother. Eventually, we were joined by other diamond dogs and Rock Haven became our haven.” 

Smiling, Corduroy revealed terrific teeth. 

“If Buttons was my mother, Doctor Hedge was my father. He’s a unicorn. A doctor. I followed him around everywhere he went, because he was the best pony ever. From the earliest age, I started learning medicine from him. He taught me to read and over time, I became his assistant. One day, I impressed him by cultivating my own penicillin. After that, my lessons became far more demanding. He was hard on me. I spent the whole of my young life trying to learn all that he had to teach me.” 

Paws fidgeting, she continued, “I learned alchemy too, mostly from Minori, another diamond dog. And when Mister Teapot came home and was in town, I learned everything I possibly could from him, like magic stitching and anything he might have picked up in his travels. Mister Teapot was always asking the important questions in life, such as, ‘Who’s a good dog?’ It was me, I was determined to be the best dog. Which is why I became a nurse. So now, when it is asked, ‘Who is a good dog?’ I can confidently reply with all assurance that I am, in fact, the best dog I am capable of being. I have no fear of the Black Hound.” 

After hearing what she had to say, Sundance ended up in an odd place. “I have a question, but I’m afraid it will be taken the wrong way.” 

“Ask.” Corduroy’s claws clicked together as she wrung her paws. 

“It sounded as though you had a place where you fit in. A place where you belonged. Where you were accepted. Why leave it? Why come to Canterlot and face rejection? I don’t understand.” 

“Success meant nothing there,” she said and there was a fretful waver to her voice. “I could have lived out my entire life there. Everything would have been happy. Easy. And I wouldn’t have had to work for anything. So my work, my passion, would have no meaning. Without struggle, there is no improvement. Mister Teapot told me this. So did Doctor Hedge. Minori, too, before she died. So when I was old enough, I left home. For me to be the best dog, I have to be an example for other good dogs.” 

This struck Sundance with all of the subtle force of a falling anvil. He too, had left home, and now, he struggled. Did this make him a better pony? He could have had an easy life, but for whatever reason, he had chosen to inherit a barony saddled with debt. A horrible, wretched place to live, made worse by the sulphurous musk that permeated everything. 

“I came to Canterlot, took a competency test, and was added to the national registry as a somewhat above exceptional nurse.” Corduroy’s eyes darkened a bit, and her triangular ears waggled hard enough to jostle her beanie. “The standards need more work, but that will come with time, as society advances. There’s a lot of nurses that aren’t nurses. Having a mark doesn’t give you schooling or knowledge. But I get shut out of jobs because I don’t have a mark, and you ponies don’t trust that. Or me. I’m a better qualified nurse than some pony with no schooling who has a mark that somehow makes them a nurse. It is frustrating and hurtful how I keep getting rejected.” 

“Change is slow and takes time,” Fleur said as she reached over and patted the now distraught dog on her forearm. “You’re working to make those changes happen, dearest. What we need” —here, she turned her gaze on Sundance and gave him a soul-piercing stare— “is a brave, courageous noble willing to do the right thing. It falls upon the nobles to make these important changes that our great society needs. In doing so, others will follow their example. But some brave soul must go first.” 

The first hint of pressure could be felt. A bit sweaty, Sundance tried to keep his wings still while his thoughts threatened to run away from him. If he brought home a diamond dog, his peasants might revolt. They might be very upset with him. Unless, of course, he tricked them. Thinking of Earwig, he began to think devious thoughts—tricky, devious thoughts. As awful as it was, he could use his peasants own attitudes against them. Their own simple beliefs could be turned upon them. 

Reaching up with his hoof, he began to absentmindedly stroke his jaw. 

“I know a lot about ponies,” Corduroy said to Sundance while he sat thinking. “Growing up in Rock Haven, I learned a lot about livestock too. Cows, goats, chickens, Doctor Hedge patched up everything he could and—”

“Why haven’t you become a doctor?” Sundance asked, interrupting. 

“I thought about it,” she was quick to reply. “Acceptance. I can’t even get a job as a nurse. I’ve applied to medical school and was rejected. Maybe because I’d be too jarring on my patients. I don’t know. Fleur and Fancy Pants even tried to help me after I came to Canterlot. I’ve thought about enlisting, but that’s really not the route I want to go. The world needs to know that we diamond dogs are more than brutes and soldiers.” 

Extending his left wing, Sundance reached up and scratched just behind his right ear with his central joint. Fleur was staring at him in a way that made him want to squirm. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t anything that he could do about it. This was his life now, making big decisions. He’d come to Canterlot looking for a midwife and he’d been wrangled into this complicated tangle. There were worse fates though. Princess Celestia had put him into this position for a reason. 

What would Princess Celestia do about this? 

She would do what was right. 

But what was right? 

What made right? 

With so many choices and ways to advance society, what was good and right? 

Sundance found himself wishing he had gone to college, because this was too much to think about. At the moment, he felt woefully stupid. He didn’t have a fine grasp of the social issues. If anything, he had a handicap, because he’d spent so much of his life as something of an outcast. He’d only just started to figure himself out after he had come to Canterlot. 

He stopped rubbing his jaw when he thought about the fact that Corduroy had come to Canterlot as well. They shared something in common, the two of them. He was a small winged pony and she was a large canine creature. But the both of them came to Canterlot. He’d only recently awakened to his potential and his sense of self. 

Fleur was still staring; he could feel her eyes upon him. 

“Do you have other skills besides nursing? Anything that might help an impoverished community?” Ignoring Fleur, Sundance focused on Corduroy. 

“I’m an accomplished glassblower. I had to learn how because I needed glassware for my alchemical experiments. I figured out the secrets of alchemist’s glass on my own, the really good stuff that doesn’t shatter so easily. Soap. You need soap? I can make soap. Medicinal soaps, even.” 

“I have a mare back at the barony that is going to foal sooner rather than later. Something is off with her urine. She might be sick. How would you go about making her better again?” This seemed like a proper interview question, but Sundance had no way of knowing. He’d already made his decision, he realised. So what was he doing now? 

Reinforcing his reasons, perhaps? 

“My nose is good for finding sickness in urine,” Corduroy replied, now completely calm. “You ponies can’t smell anything other than ‘bad’ or ‘off.’ Your noses are weak. I would give her a thorough examination, test her urine, and administer an antibiotic, if the situation demanded it. As for foaling, that’s easy. I’ve delivered many foals. And calves. Kids too.” 

“Speaking of bad smells… as you are no doubt aware, my barony stinks. There’s no nice way of saying it.” 

She smiled, revealing her teeth again, and Corduroy made a dismissive wave with her paw. “You smell delightful. It’s mouth-wateringly good.” 

Alas, poor Sundance had never considered that another creature might find this aroma appealing. Without thinking about it, he sniffed. She wasn’t lying, near as he could tell. The idea that she might enjoy living there, that she might like how it smelled, this gave him pause. There was still the matter of how his peasants might react, but he already had ideas about that. 

The interview arrived at a dreadful point, the one that worried him the most. “Uh, about compensation.” 

“What about it?” she asked. 

“There’s not much money,” he said, fearing her reaction. 

“But there is experience,” she replied while her claws clicked and clacked together. “And potentially, acceptance. There is your good standing, which will ultimately impact my own good standing. If you are seen as a just and noble lord, and I am in your service, there is prestige to be found in that. I can make medicines and glassware and other goods that will improve the barony’s fortunes.” 

This wasn’t what he was expecting, not at all. 

“You guarantee me the resources I need to make goods and I can run a profitable business that will fund my practice.” Corduroy blinked a few times, thoughtful, and her pointy triangular ears pivoted forwards. “I don’t mind a shared struggle. There is meaning in that. If you help me succeed, I’ll help you succeed. This should be the way of things.” 

Saying nothing, Sundance considered this. 

“Working in a hospital or a clinic for lousy pay and always worrying about if I’ll keep my job was the life I was willing to accept.” Corduroy reached out, placed her paw upon Fleur’s neck, and smoothed out a few stray strands of the mare’s mane. “With you, I have the potential for something better. Money and pay is a triviality. I am confident that things will sort themselves out in time. With you, I’ll have much better prospects in the long term. So long as my basic needs are met, and I have access to resources, I am content to do what must be done. Give me job security and I’ll give you loyalty. Good dogs are loyal.” 

The decision had already been made. Quite some time ago in the conversation. Sundance, having examined his reasons, felt that he was doing the right thing. Sure, he was desperate, but that was not his sole motivation. There was a chance for betterment here, to do good. To reward another’s hard work. The idea of a shared struggle appealed to him. Corduroy’s cause was just, and so was his own. 

This would also allow him to get into Fleur’s good graces, which he knew was important. She and Fancy Pants were his mentors, good ponies who wanted the best for him. His choice, his decision would impact two lives profoundly, and probably others in ways he could not imagine. This would also make his mother furious, and he was prepared for a lecture, should it come. If it happened, he would let the storm blow itself out, and then he would give his mother his reasons. If she couldn’t accept what he had done, well, she’d just have to scratch her mad spot and get over it. 

Taking a deep breath, Sundance prepared to give Corduroy his answer.
> Not the smartest pony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Look, Corduroy, there’s something you should know. My peasants are snarky, a bit backwards, and I don’t do much to rein them in. They’ve all been horribly abused in ways I can barely understand. All of them are the survivors, the ones who’ve stuck it out until the very bitter end, refusing to leave the land. I need you to be very, very understanding of this.” Sundance took a deep breath, held it, and wasn’t sure how to continue. 

But he had to continue, this was a job that had to be done. 

“And there is also the matter of me, myself. I have no idea what I’m doing. Right now, I’m about to take you on for a position that I don’t even know how to name. Clearly, you’ll be more than a peasant, or even a nurse.” Floundering for words, something almost like an idea dawned on the far-away horizon of his mind. A single golden ray of hope manifested and with this sudden illumination, he realised just how far-fetched his other idea was, the one involving stories of snatching a massive diamond dog from her home and having her go along with the act while he threatened her with hot pokers. 

Corduroy, no doubt smarter than he was by far, seemed to be waiting for him to collect his thoughts. Her eyes gleamed with inner joy, some great sense of happiness, but her outward exteriour was one of great calm. Another golden ray joined the first, then another, and then Sundance understood how to make this work. All he had to do was get Cucumber’s approval somehow, and once Cucumber was on board with this, then everypony else would get behind him. 

“Getting you accepted is going to take some work, and I already have something of a plan. I had a really, really stupid plan going there for a while, but I’m going to ditch that plan because it could only blow up in my face in spectacular ways.” His mind racing, he sucked in a deep breath and forced his thoughts to slow down so he wouldn’t end up stuttering or making a mess of his words. 

“You’re hired, you have the job. But getting my retainer to like you… see, that’s the worry I now have. As for the rest of the peasants, I suspect they’ll just go along with whatever my retainer has to say. So what we’re going to do is make my retainer’s life a whole lot easier. He’s old. Like, you wouldn’t believe how old he is. Over a century. I mean, he is old. Something tells me he doesn’t see so very well and I’m not sure how he gets around as well as he does without bumping into stuff or tripping over things. But he does, and it’s a bit creepy now that I think about it.” 

A dire look of worrisome concern spread over Fleur’s face with Sundance’s every word. 

Lifting one hoof, he tapped it a few times on the edge of the battered table while trying to bring himself back on subject. Then, feeling brilliant, he lifted his hoof up and held it out to Corduroy. “See, you don’t have these. You have those paws and fingers. You have opposable digits. You could spare poor Cucumber a lot of walking by making sure that the fires stay lit and doing all those things that he does with his magic.” 

He shook his hoof around for a bit, and then put it back down upon the table. 

“If he finds you indispensable, he’ll accept you. I think. I hope. Maybe? As an extra added bonus, if you go around and tend to the fires, you can earn the trust of the peasants. Except I’m not sure if you’ll fit into the doors of the hovels and my entire plan just went up in smoke.” Hanging his head, his ears sagged as he breathed out a long sigh of frustrated defeat. 

“Your plan will work,” Corduroy said. “It’s a good plan and I can be more than a nurse if necessary. If ponies depend on me for hard tasks that I find easy, they’ll accept me for the sake of convenience.” 

“But the doors—” 

“We’ll find a way.” 

“This is good.” Fleur’s interjection came at a perfect time, because words failed Sundance. “Oh, I am pleased right now. Fancy Pants will be beside himself when he hears the news. Finally, I have entwined two lives together in some meaningful way. I almost feel like a princess.”

Hearing this gave Sundance pause as he tried to figure out what Fleur meant exactly. 

He did not stay distracted for long. What was he getting into? First it had been the night terrors, the bat-winged nocturnal pegasus ponies of the night. Why had he gone along with that? He was still uncomfortable with the whole idea. To be agreeable? Doing the right thing seemed so much harder when one had to do what was best for a barony rather than themselves. He’d progressed from night-time horrors to slave-snatching diamond dogs, the poachers who hid behind trees. 

Yes, he was left quite astonished with himself, because he had gone contrary against his own nature. Of course he was uncomfortable—he recognised that and could not deny it—but his own discomfort was the cost of progress. Living in a place where creature comforts were few and far between. At this moment, Sundance had some profound revelation about himself: he was a creature that truly enjoyed comfort and being comfortable. 

Living with his mother, he had a comfortable little room, he did a comfortable job where he made a comfortable amount of money that was just enough to pay for his expenses, which were at a comfortable level. Sure, he had been poor—impoverished even—but by keeping his expectations low and doing little with his life beyond his genealogy project, he’d maintained a comfort-level that he was comfortable with. 

Not much in his life challenged him and he had been content with his daredevil antics. 

But that life had ended. Now, everything challenged him. His every waking moment was spent going from one uncomfortable situation to the next. Like right now. A part of him was still a bit uncomfortable with Corduroy, but he was rapidly getting over that. No, his real concern was bringing her home to the barony, and facing ponies that were just like himself, or worse. It was the worst thing he could think of—facing himself—and he was already practically squirming in anticipation of having to deal with the potential situation waiting for him at home. 

To be comfortable again and to have a relatively complication-free existence...

Because he’d done this one thing, other more complicated things would be expected of him in the future. Upon reaching this conclusion, he quickly reached a second: the royals must have the most complicated lives in all of existence, as each of them took on complications and competed with one another. Upon his arrival at this unpleasant destination, he shuddered and wondered what dreadful station his train of thought would whisk him away to next. 

Fleur laid a featherlight hoof upon Sundance and asked, “Dearest, are you okay?” 

It took him a moment before any sort of response could be made. So lost in his thoughts was he that he couldn’t feel the cushion he was sitting on. He only had a vague awareness of Fleur’s gentle touch. His mother didn’t have a gentle touch, she had a firm, commanding touch that could not be ignored. 

How could he possibly explain his thoughts? 

The situation he found himself in demanded more of him. No longer could he think only of himself. His close-mindedness was now a thing of the past. Going forward, he would be forced to set his biases aside. His own wants and desires were now largely irrelevant. Prosperity came at a price, and that cost was his own comfort, his own sense of conformity, which had been pounded into him from an early, tender age. 

“I’m having a baron moment,” said Sundance, almost muttering. 

Corduroy was a credible, capable nurse whose appearance and physical form held her back. How was this any different than the tribalism that plagued ponies? His mother had a lot to say about tribalism, she equated it with hooliganism, but she seemed okay with a general mistrust or even outright disdain of other species. These were not copacetic thoughts.

“You seem to be showing symptoms of heightened anxiety,” Corduroy said to Sundance. “Are you well?” 

“I’ve gained awareness of my own faults,” he replied, too distracted to be anything but honest. “Coming to Canterlot changed me. I’ve awakened to parts of my self that I had no idea existed. Or, no, maybe… I don’t know if that’s the right words. The world is not what I thought it was. I don’t know what I’m saying. Look… I need to do a lot of growing up right away, because there is a lot expected of me. There’s a lot on my mind right now.” 

“A baron moment?” Corduroy tilted her head off to one side. “Is this because of me?” 

“Yes,” he replied with unabashed honesty. “I don’t have the luxury of slowly coming around to acceptance and making gradual changes to my mind and thinking. You’re better than a midwife. You… you’re the best possible help that I could hope for, and if I… uh, if I were to send you away because of my own, uh, how do I say it… if I were to send you away because of my prejudices, I’d not only be hurting my barony, but also myself. Princess Celestia put me in this position because she trusted me to do the right thing. I think? I’m pretty sure that she, uh, well, I’m almost certain that she would want me to do the bold thing. Otherwise, she’d just threaten me with cream cheese tarts again and then things would be awkward and I’m no good at these moments of self-examination.” 

“In my professional opinion,” said Corduroy, whispering, “I think Baron Sundance needs lunch.” 

“Oh!” Fleur gasped. “Capital idea! I know just the place. My treat! The owner has fits of appreciation when I bring the young nobles there for a meal. Says it does wonders for her establishment’s reputation.” 

“Fleur, is everything you do an attempt to improve the lives of others?” Corduroy looked down at the small mare beside her. 

“For a long time, I lived a shallow, superficial life. I was once a socialite, obsessed with social standing and image. Now, I deal in social capital.” Fleur smiled and beamed her warm affection at the diamond dog beside her. “Fancy Pants and I have wealth, ways, and means. To do nothing would be… dreadful. We have so much. Of all of the Equestrian Virtues, we choose to be generous.” 

“I follow Kindness myself.” Corduroy seemed almost bashful. “I met her once when I was younger, and again when I was a little older. I’ve spent my life trying to be like her. Even made a little shrine to her when I was a pup, and carved an image of her from soapstone. It is good to aspire to something greater.” 

Both Corduroy and Fleur turned to look at him, and Sundance knew what they were thinking. Before either could say anything, he shrugged and did his best to look bewildered. At the moment, his mind was on other things, like getting home and looking after Hollyhock. Lunch seemed inevitable though, which meant trying to eat fast without being rude, and with all of his scatterbrained thoughts, he didn’t have time to think about virtues. 

“The Virtues are important.” Corduroy paused for a moment, her triangle ears pivoted around, and then she folded her paws together. “By choosing one to aspire to, we can simplify our path to progress and self-betterment. Like anything else, we can be passing fair in everything, or exceptional in just one thing. By focusing upon the great Equestrian Virtue of Kindness, I have found purpose in my life. Through my meditations, I’ve gained insight that has made me a better nurse. A better creature over all.” 

“But you’re a diamond dog. Why follow Equestrian values? Why embrace these… uh, Virtues?” Perplexed, Sundance didn’t think very much about what he had said before blurting it out, and it was only after the fact did he understand how careless and inconsiderate he sounded. Frustrated with himself, he grunted, then said, “Sorry. I was careless. But I want to understand.” 

“Kindness knows no face, but recognises need,” Corduroy replied. Showing no signs of being upset, she smiled. “That resonates with me. My face holds me back from what I want in life. So I try to live by the ideal that I’d like to see in the world. Imagine how much better things would be if we failed to notice faces, or wings, or horns, or a lack of those things. Just think about how much nicer the world would be if we just saw need… and then did something about those needs.” 

“Like you… needing a job and purpose.” Sundance found himself nodding. “But you left home to find these needs where they are scarce. Were you hoping to find kindness in the world?” 

“Perhaps.” Corduroy shrugged. “This might sound contrary, but Canterlot is a generous city, though not a kind city.” Then, rather hastily she added, “No offense meant, Fleur.” 

“None taken, ‘tis true.” Sighing, Fleur shook her head. “Corduroy, you stand out because of what you are. There are many in Canterlot who need assistance and sadly, some of them are ignored, for whatever reason. This is not a topic I am comfortable with, yet here I am, discussing our collective shortcomings.” 

“The bureaucracy can be quite cold, unfeeling, and unaccommodating.” 

“Oh, I know, Corduroy, I know. It used to be worse. The reformation has made things better, but these are issues that will take a lifetime to sort out. Some cold consolation, that. Knowing that the next generation will see the improvements that we ourselves wish we had. I wish Twilight Velvet and Prince Gosling had come along sooner. Though I suppose things happen when they are meant to happen, and not a moment before.” 

Eyebrow arching, Sundance studied Fleur. Just now, she almost seemed like a stranger. No refinement, no culture, none of what made her Fleur. Her mannerisms, the way she spoke, it had all been stripped away. A second side of Fleur had just revealed itself and already, from the looks of things, she was trying to sort herself out. 

“Mister Teapot once said that the bureaucrats put too much focus on the needs of the nation, while forgetting that the citizens are the nation. And I’m inclined to agree. The bureaucracy affected him as both a pony and a professor, and he was always in some fight or another. It attributed to his Mook Philosophy.” 

“Mook what?” All of Sundance’s complicated thoughts were shoved aside to focus on what Corduroy had just said. 

“Well, Mister Teapot had this philosophical theory of sorts, that there are two types of creatures. Not-Mooks and Mooks. He has this curious hypothesis that the Not-Mooks hated the Mooks so much that they created society and civilisation in an effort to eradicate them. Organised efforts and all that. But Mooks persisted, very much like cockroaches, and are a plague upon civilised life. He once gave a dissertation at Baltimare University, and Princess Celestia was there, and she was the only pony who clapped when he was finished. He said it felt awkward when he realised that he and Princess Celestia were the only Not-Mooks in the auditorium.” 

“This is something we should discuss over lunch,” Fleur suggested. 

Sundance nodded. A quick lunch, because he needed to get home to Hollyhock.
> Aspiring good dog
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lunch took too long. It was easy to get swept up in events; he had come to Canterlot in search of a midwife, only to get tangled up in circumstances and situations. Life demanded more of him, expected more of him, and when he was focused upon just one life, other lives got involved, swept up in his passing wake. To save one life that he was responsible for, he was entrusted with one more life to look after. Fleur had made him make promises, she had made him swear upon anything and everything that was important to him. Corduroy was much beloved and Fleur was trusting him with her very existence. 

Life now had unbelievable complexity. 

Every aspect of his life was now entwined with others, with no escape. This is what it meant to be The Baron. Which was only a tiny puddle of responsibility when compared to his great grandmother’s ocean of duty as The Princess. Yet the fact that she had shared some of this obligation with him was not lost on him. Why? That particular question stayed with him. Why? 

Because, a somewhat sarcastic inner-voice said within his ears, diamond dog, that’s why.

Yes, there was currently a diamond dog behind him, having the time of her life. She sat in the sky truck, clinging to the side, not at all afraid to look down. Her pointy triangular ears waggled in the wind and her long, wide blue tongue—which dangled from the corner of her broad mouth—flapped like a windsock in a hurricane. The only way to describe her expression was one of intense joy. 

When birds flew by, she barked at them, but thankfully did not leap out of the cart to chase them. 

Already, Sundance was steeling himself for confrontation. He might have to put his hoof down. A firm stance might need to be taken. For whatever reason, the anticipation and the anxiety from this potential confrontation was far, far worse than facing up to his own biases and prejudices. The idea that somepony might not like what he did, or worse, be unhappy with what he had done, it left him in a fitful, frightful state of mind. 

The worst outcome he could think of would be that Hollyhock refused to allow Corduroy to treat her. What then? He would have to get demanding, and that would be stressful. What if she resisted? What if there was a struggle? How would he resolve this if it played out in the worst possible way? What if there was a peasant revolt? Peasant revolts happened. He’d read about them in history class. How would he explain this to Princess Celestia? In what possible way could he possibly explain this where he didn’t look like a colossal idiot? What was he thinking, hiring on a diamond dog that might cause so much upset? 

He hadn’t played it safe, and that was his trouble. 

At this moment, he saw it, and it was clear as day. 

His propensity to take risks, to be a daredevil, it might very well be his undoing. This was just slaloming the stacks again, just to see if it could be done. To see what might happen. His anxiety took the form of nervous energy and this gave him speed, remarkable speed, swallows unladen by coconuts speed. Breakneck speed while hauling a load, leaving him with little time to react if something crossed his flight path. 

At some point, a crash was inevitable. 



 

For whatever reason, Cucumber was alone to greet him when he landed and Sundance figured that Potato was responsible somehow. As for the rest of his merry band of snarky labourers, it was as if his barony had been deserted. Or perhaps gone off for tea—in another place, far, far away. A place not his barony, which it could be said had gone to the dogs. 

Well, this was good. All he had to do was convince Cucumber that this was a good idea. Certainly better than dealing with a crowd. As his hooves skidded over the packed stones, Sundance was already thinking of the best way to deal with this, but Cucumber it seemed, had other plans. The old retainer didn’t even spare Sundance a courteous glance, no—that crusty, wrinkly, ancient unicorn immediately focused whatever was left of his stare upon the wagon and its passenger. 

Poor Sundance, too late, he realised how much he mattered in the bigger scheme of things. 

“Good news, Cucumber, I’ve returned with a nurse!” 

“A moment, Milord,” was Cucumber’s rather curt reply. Knees popping from the strain of a century, the age-defying unicorn stood stiff-legged just a few yards away from the cart. “Hold, you. Not a move. I have some questions for ye, so I does. Don’t move. Don’t even get out of the cart, dog.” 

“Cucumber, is this necessary?” 

“A moment, Milord.” The old retainer’s eyes narrowed. “I served with a diamond dog during the exchange of unpleasantries.” His eyes narrowed a bit more, though his expression was more sad than aggressive. “He was loyal. Died right over there, so he did. The last one standing to hold the line. Buried what was left of him in our cemetery. He lived as one of us, he died as one of us, and was buried with us.” 

Here, Cucumber paused for a moment, as if collecting himself, and pulling himself out of the past. Sundance, still in his harness, had to crane his head and peer back over his wings to see what was going on. Sadness and pain were very much visible on Cucumber’s face and as for Corduroy, he could not read her expression. 

“Tell me, dog, are ye loyal?” Cucumber’s accent was a bit thicker than usual. “I’m the last living soldier of this barony. I’ve yet to be relieved of my duties. ‘Tis my job to deal with threats… both without and within… and trust me, I’ve dealt with both.” 

“Do you miss him?” Corduroy asked. 

“Not a day goes by when I don’t think of him,” Cucumber replied. Cracks could be heard in his words. “He died with his hammer in his paw. Never let go, even in death. So tell me, are ye loyal?” 

“I’ll be loyal to Baron Sundance—” 

“That’s not good enough!” Cucumber’s voice cracked to the point of breaking. “Barons come and go. The land… the land is all that matters. My entire life has been lived in service to this land. Every waking moment, every single day, my whole long existence. My loyalty is such that I refuse to die. I have no replacement, ye ken. Now, are ye loyal?” 

“My loyalty remains with Baron Sundance,” Corduroy said, patient and calm as a stone. “He took a great risk bringing me here to this place, and I know it. He risked your rejection and your displeasure. But he did what was right for his barony, because I am the best choice that he could have made. Because he stuck his neck out for me, I am, and will continue to be, loyal to him and his interests.” 

Cucumber’s eyes un-narrowed and he stood there, blinking. “His interests seem to be with the land. I’m not one for rash calls to judgment… never mind our current happenings, ‘cause I’m obeying my oath. I suppose that will have to do. Welcome to the Sunfire Barony. I’m Cucumber, faithful servant of the Milord.” 

“And I’m Corduroy. Loyal. Also, aspiring good dog. Thumping good nurse, if I can say that about myself.” When she stood up in the cart, her tail was wagging. 

“We have a sick mare that needs your remedies,” Cucumber said while craning his head to look up at Corduroy. “Not sure how she’ll feel when she sees you.” 

“Take me to her right away,” Corduroy said while grabbing two bags, but not her trunk. She stepped over the side of the cart and then stood on the ground, looking down at the unicorn staring up at her. “I have liniments that will help your joints, Old One.” 

“Maybe later.” 

Sundance began to pull the cart back to the barn so it could be parked and he watched as his retainer limped off, with Corduroy just behind him. So far, so good. With Cucumber’s acceptance, Corduroy had a good chance of being welcomed. This didn’t go as expected, and everything he’d imagined had ended in far worse ways. Perhaps things would go well with Hollyhock. It’d be great if they did, though he wasn’t counting on it. 



 

Sometimes… sometimes it is better to keep one’s mouth shut and let those with experience do what must be done. It was an important part of leadership, Sundance reckoned. In this particular instance, it was better to let Cucumber do the heavy lifting, so to speak, because Hollyhock was a bit resistant to the idea of having anything to do with Corduroy. 

He stood in the corner of the dining hall, right near the door, the only way in or out. Corduroy kept her distance, standing near the fire. Earwig sat near the table, studying her hoof, which must have been fascinating. Hollyhock was backed into the farthest corner from Corduroy, whimpering pitifully, and Cucumber’s patience seemed to be wearing a bit thin. 

“Don’t be a foal. Ponies these days, scared of their own shadows, so they are.” The old unicorn rolled his eyes as he groused and snorted out his annoyance. 

“I said no! No means no!” 

“Not here, it doesn’t!” Cucumber’s bushy eyebrows beetled. 

Sundance found that Earwig was looking at him, and she gave him a nod that he was certain could not be seen. She was communicating something, but what? Did he need to put his hoof down? Was now the time? He didn’t want to. What he wanted was to remain quiet and allow the situation to sort itself out. He had himself a pregnant mare that he didn’t want to upset any more than he had to, and as for Cucumber, his retainer was getting mighty peeved. 

“I don’t like nurses!” Hollyhock said as she shuffled in place. “Every time I visit one, I get a shot!” 

Cucumber was bound to strain something vital if his eyes kept rolling the way they did. 

“I mean, sure, catching a case of runny twat snot was my own fault, but she really jammed that big ol’ needle right in! I swear, she did it to punish me for how I am!” 

Upon hearing this, Cucumber’s thin, wrinkled lip peeled back from his teeth in a haggard sneer of disgust. Sundance felt bad for dumping all of this on Cucumber, but now, more than ever, he didn’t want to get involved. Runny twat snot? All of his mother’s warnings about loose mares flooded into his conscious mind and he had a sudden powerful desire for tea. 

“Let me look at you and I’ll give you some candy.” Corduroy stood, paws akimbo, and her tail was not wagging. She had just enough room to stand up in the dining hall, a testament to just how tall Princess Celestia was as a pony. 

“Candy?” Hollyhock stood agape for a moment. “Candy? You think I’ll cooperate for candy? I’m not letting you touch me with your dirty paws for candy!” 

“I could ask you if the cloth I hold over your nose smells like chloroform…” Folding her arms over her girth, Corduroy allowed her words to trail off so that the implied threat could be thought about. “Pick one.” 

Oh, this was good. Sundance waited, unsure of what Hollyhock might do. She was sick, in pain, and maybe desperate, so he figured there couldn’t possibly be much resistance left in her. As for Corduroy, he liked her even more. Later, when this was over, he was going to have a laugh about that chloroform line, because that was funny. 

“Will you stay with me?” Hollyhock—with her ears pinned back from fear—turned her pleading eyes on Sundance. “Don’t leave me alone with her.” 

“I’ll do you one better,” he offered, and before he realised what he was saying, he added, “I’ll let her examine me.” Suddenly every eye in the room was on him, and each face held very different expressions. What made him say such a stupid, stupid thing? Of all the looks, Corduroy’s confusion was decidedly the best, because dogs had such expressive facial features. 

“Baroo?” The canine-ish sound just sort of slipped out before Corduroy could stop it, and then she was both confused and embarrassed. 

“Very brave of you, Milord.” With Cucumber’s dry deadpan, it was impossible to determine if he was being snarky. 

Alone in her reaction, Earwig smiled. 

“When I went to the free clinic, the nurses were always so mean to me. It’s like they wanted to punish me.” Hollyhock’s eyes darkened and somehow, her ears pinned back even more, going completely flat against the back of her skull. Then, in a squeaky whisper, she added, “Diamond dogs scare me. I’ve seen a few movies. They’re always bad.” 

“Do you think movies accurately portray my kind?” Corduroy asked. She stood still, made no real movement, and did nothing that could seem threatening. “Am I not eloquent and well-spoken? The dogs on film all speak with broken sentences and guttural grunts. Every effort is made to make them appear savage, barbaric, and uncivilised. Has it occured to you that this is done on purpose, and that your entertainment industry strives to sow discord and dissent between us?” 

“Well, I—” Hollyhock’s mouth hung open and her eyes darted around, as if searching for some means of escape. Her barrel rose and fell, and with her rapid breathing her nostrils widened. “This… no… well… but… no… wait—I am very uncomfortable right now and don’t see a way out of this.” 

“Because of this, I have to work twice as hard to overcome the prejudice and poison peddled by your kind for just a few bits per show. This has impacted every aspect of my life profoundly, but you… you are the one uncomfortable.” 

“Yes,” Hollyhock squeaked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

Ears sagging, Corduroy shook her head. “Now, are you going to let me examine you?” 

The tension in the air was like a thick fog that could be cut with a knife. Tangible, solid in a way that only fog and tension could be. Sundance could see that Hollyhock was struggling to come to terms with what had just happened, her whole body shook while her head wagged from side to side, the body language of denial. Corduroy had just dealt a savage—but necessary—blow, one that instilled within him a keen sense of awareness. She was an extraordinary dog, Corduroy, and it was easy to understand now why Fleur was so invested in seeing her succeed. 

“I don’t want my foals growing up to hate anypony,” Hollyhock murmured. “Right now, I feel so bad. Like I’ve been duped. I feel so very stupid. It’s a struggle to understand everything, but everything you just said makes it all seem so obvious. I might not be the smartest mare, but I’m not stupid. How did I blunder into this?” 

“All that matters now is what you do from here on out. Past events and mistakes exist so that we might learn from them so that we might have better futures. I’ve learned from the past mistakes of my kind, and there are many. I strive to correct them.” 

“My mistakes brought me here, to this place. As punishment.” 

“And all my hard work and preparation have brought me here, to this place, as an opportunity. We are both here and our shared future starts now. Don’t see this as punishment, see it as a chance to do better.” 

Hollyhock licked her lips and at long last, her ears pricked. When her eyes met with his, Sundance felt a curious warmth, something that he could only describe as hopeful. Some kind of warm, sunny optimism. A cautious smile, like a cautious ray of sunshine peeking down between thunderheads graced her face. 

“I’m still scared, but I don’t want to be…” 

“That’s okay.” Corduroy nodded. “I’ll do everything I can to put your mind at ease. Now please, let me help you.” 

“Please, help me.”
> Hot water and soap
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dining hall, which also served as his bedroom, was now also a clinic and for the first time, Sundance wondered where Corduroy would be staying. She could—theoretically—fit through the doors to the hovels, but it was a tight fit. He suspected that the dining hall was about to also become a bunkhouse of sorts, a place of many purposes. All awkward living arrangements aside, this was the cost of growth. 

Corduroy had examined him, poking and prodding at his many lumps, bumps, scrapes, scratches, and contusions. Worst of all, he had not been given any candy, just shoved aside so that his new nurse could get down to business. In the beginning, Hollyhock was a bit too terrified, and had politely requested that he hold her hoof, so he had. That was a bit weird, a bit out of place, but such was the cost of being a baron. 

Everything was fine, right up until the urine test, and then things were clearly wrong; she could hardly go, did so with great strain, and what came out was a foul-smelling cloudy mess of brown-orange liquid. Without saying a word, Cucumber had gone to open a window, but his face never changed expressions. Then, much to Sundance’s surprise, Corduroy began sniffing the urine sample in very much the same way that fancy Canterlot ponies sniffed glasses of wine. 

Now, Hollyhock was sweaty from the strain of having to go on demand, her breathing was a bit laboured, and her sides heaved with visible discomfort. Earwig had taken over the duties of holding the distressed mare’s hoof, and Sundance, for the lack of anything better to do, began to pace. 

Little did he know that his grandmare also paced when faced with distressed peasants. 

This was new territory, the great undiscovered place. By pushing past his own narrow views, Sundance’s horizons had been greatly expanded, and for a pegasus, horizons were everything. He had a whole new world to explore now and he found he greatly enjoyed the interactions between his peasants and Corduroy. 

It was yet another trait he shared with his grandmare. 

“Can I ask a question?” Hollyhock asked, almost panting out each word. 

“You just did,” replied Corduroy without skipping a beat. 

“I don’t want to offend.” The rotund, suffering mare huffed and puffed to manage her intense pain. “You have a dog nose… and you just sniffed my urine… look, I’m sorry, but I have to know, how are you dealing with the stench of this place?” 

“Stench?” Ears pricking, jowls jiggling, Corduroy’s head tilted off to one side. 

“Yeah, the stench. You know, The Stench. That horrendous smell. We’re living in Ye Olden Rotten Egglünd.”

“There’s a stench?” Corduroy’s ears quivered and her eyes—one pink, the other blue—focused on the suffering mare in her care. She sniffed, and after a moment, waved her paw. “I think I heard an umlaut. Did anydoggy else hear an umlaut? No? Must be a dog thing. Nevermind.” Then, after a moment she added, “Canterlot had a stench. This place is great.” 

Hollyhock seemed to almost stop breathing, and her confusion was such that she now wore a blank expression. Whatever intelligence existed within her had just turned out the lights and clocked out for an extended lunch. Sundance, still pacing, wondered what an umlaut was while also fancying himself as the Mayor of Ye Olden Rotten Egglünd. That title certainly had an air of distinction. 

“You get a candy.” While Hollyhock was still stupefied into a state of non-reaction, Corduroy pulled out a container, opened it, stabbed a red, square candy with her claw, and then jammed it into Hollyhock’s mouth before she had a chance to react. 

This roused Hollyhock, who made a face and then said, “This candy tastes funny.” 

“That’s because it’s medicine. I’m trying to improve the flavour a bit.” Reaching out, Corduroy patted Hollyhock on the head. “You have a severe urinary tract infection. Lots of swelling and inflammation is making it hard for you to pass water. The candy is good for fever, swelling, and inflammation. For the infection, I have pills.” 

“Pills?” 

“Yes, pills. I made them myself. You’ll be fine.” 

“So I’m okay?” 

“You are now.” Corduroy’s blunt statement had an unpleasant air of dire finality to it. “A few more days like this and you’d be in some real trouble. You and the foal.” She gestured around with her paw. “These are not sanitary conditions. We’ll need to work on that. This whole place needs to be sterilised.” 

“But we clean.” Earwig verged on some kind of emotional outburst, but was holding herself back.

“Sweeping the dirt does not make it clean.” Corduroy shook her head from side to side. “Do you have communal baths?” 

“What?” Earwig’s bluster vanished, only to be replaced by confusion. 

“The kitchen is also the bath,” said Sundance, fearing how Corduroy might react. 

Closing her eyes, the distressed diamond dog sighed, reached up with her paw, and rubbed her head. She growled—not an angry sound—and when she did so Cucumber too, sighed. Earwig seemed lost and whatever it was she might have thought about saying, she kept to herself. As for Sundance, he knew that changes had to be made, but he had no idea how to go about doing them. 

“I can smell ear mites,” said Corduroy as she opened her eyes. “They cause stinky ears. This place… this place… I have my work cut out for me.” 

“Ear mites?” Ears twitching, Cucumber repeated himself. “Ear mites?” 

“Stinky ears, dark, sorta crumbly discharge, excess wax—ear mites.” Corduroy waved her paw in a circular motion. 

“The kitchen is a cave full of boiling water hot springs.” Sundance’s head bobbed with every word spoken. “The runoff is collected in basins. Uh… um… now that I seem to have your attention, Corduroy, uh, er, wouldn’t the water be fine because it was boiled?” 

Something was wrong, and Sundance knew a look of supreme patience when he saw one. Corduroy was wearing one right now. He squirmed beneath her gaze, and when she shook her head, he knew that he had just stepped in it. Try as he might, he could not find the fault in his reasoning, but when Corduroy opened her mouth, he knew that he was about to be schooled. 

“The bath water isn’t boiling, is it? If it was, you’d all be scalded. What you’ve been doing is stewing in each other’s filth. Baths are not a good way to get clean to begin with, because you just sit in your own filth. But communal baths are even worse. That needs to stop. I’ll have to help you rig up a shower system, complete with sanitary drainage.” Exasperated, she covered her face with her paw and rubbed circles upon her nose. 

“If the baths hafta stop, how do we get clean?” Earwig asked. 

Pulling her paw away, Corduroy replied, “You’re not clean now.” 

“But, hot water and soap—” 

A bark of pure frustration silenced Earwig, and then Corduroy had a guilty, apologetic expression upon her canine face. She held up both paws in front of her, and then summoning up her gentle patience once more, she said, “Hot water and soap is not enough. All of you probably have stunning immune systems, I would guess, from a lifetime of exposure. But Hollyhock is not one of you. She hasn’t been sharing your germy soup for Princess Luna knows how long. And now she’s sick because she’s not getting clean. Good hygiene helps to prevent infections.” 

“But—” 

“Don’t say hot water and soap again, or else I’ll be forced to scrub you and show you what clean is. I’ll scrub your hide off. Trust me, I’ll find nooks and crannies you didn’t even know you had, and I will clean them. Thoroughly.” Corduroy’s stare turned cold, hard, and flinty. “I don’t tell you how to grow things or pull a plow, and you don’t tell me how to nurse. Got it?” 

Thoroughly cowed, Earwig nodded while maintaining a submissive posture. 

After drawing in a deep breath, Corduroy sighed out the words, “I have my work cut out for me.” 

“Milord, a word if I may…” 

“What’s that, Cucumber?” 

“You made a fine choice, Milord. Though I was a bit worried, so I was.” Then, after a moment of thoughtful consideration, the old retainer added, “It’s about time to serve supper. I think I’ll go check on things while you finish up. Earwig, yer with me.” 

“She threatened to scrub me, Cuke,” the disgruntled mare muttered while the wrinkly, knobby-kneed unicorn made his way to the door. 

Smiling and doing nothing to hide it, Sundance watched them go. When the door closed behind him, he turned to look back at Hollyhock and Corduroy. They seemed to be getting along just fine, at least by his own estimation. Hoping he could slip out unnoticed, he backed his way towards the door, somewhat conflicted in his feelings. He had stayed with Hollyhock to make her feel safe and comfortable, but he no longer felt needed. 

Since he no longer felt needed, his thoughts turned to a needy owl.
> Issues of the daddy variety
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The establishment of a routine created something of a lull. Greet the dawn. Watch as the sun rose, spreading its golden light over the many cracks, crevices, and crags of his barony. Listen to the blood-curdling screams and shrieks of owls. Watch as his peasants went to work, wasting not a single moment of precious daylight. Yesterday, Sundance had gone to Canterlot seeking delivery work. Today’s tasks were still unknown. He had no real plans. The past few days since Corduroy’s arrival had been productive ones. 

Birds were returning, whole vast flocks of them. With the return of the birds, war had broken out, a rivalry that Sundance had only just learned about. Owls and crows hated one another, they were ancient enemies of the worst sort, and it seemed as though there would be no peace between them. His barony would not need scarecrows, because he had an army of owls. 

Corduroy had begun the construction of a dwelling. Sundance was delighted to discover that her claws could cut through stone like a hot knife through butter. She made stone blocks from random chunks of granite and assembled them with simple tongue-in-groove construction. Already, she had laid a foundation, squared off the corners, and had the beginnings of a wall that was a yard or so high. This would be her living space, a clinic, an alchemy lab, and whatever else the barony needed it to be. 

The burrowing owls were returning, coming down into the lowlands by the score. Apparently, they went up into the mountains for the winter. Sundance was only just now learning of their existence. These owls could fly, but for the most part, didn’t. They strolled around, ground bound, and took up residence in the various cracks to be found in the box canyon. At least these owls did not scream, but they sure hooted a great deal. 

Spring had sprung; the full glory of spring had arrived and each day seemed warmer than the last. Stuff was growing, seemingly whole inches in the span of a single day. From his lofty perch, Sundance could actually see the changes that each new day brought. Come fall, he knew that he would watch as the land died, succumbing to the icy grip of winter. 

He had been warned that the winters here could be brutal.





Sundance, now strolling through the terraced farms to examine all of the green, growing things, was not alone. Little Amber Dawn had escaped from the watchful eyes of her mother, Earwig, and Earwax as well. She trotted just a short ways behind him, and a bit to his left, looking up at him with big, soulful eyes. He couldn’t tell if she was watching him, or if she was focused on the owlet perched upon his head. 

No one bowed, nopony paused what they were doing when he passed, in fact, not a one of them paid him any mind at all—which was good. Why, he was almost one of them now, and he couldn’t help but feel that he had some measure of their respect. The general consensus seemed to be that he was doing good, and he had their approval. Bringing Corduroy home was now considered a favourable action, a good thing, and she seemed to have some acceptance. 

Except for Grimer Patch, who, at the moment, was galloping away with Corduroy loping after him in hot pursuit. As she closed the distance, Sundance heard her say, “Stop! Stop! You have impacted anal glands that need treatment!” 

From the looks of things, Grimer had swallowed his usual mouthful of chewing tobacco, and his now-slack lower lip flapped like a nervouscited windsock hung out in hurricane force winds. Sundance took a moment, paused, shuddered, and felt the small filly just behind him bump into his leg. 

Then, from behind him, he heard a grunted “Oof!” as Amber Dawn tried to sort herself out. 

Just a few yards away, Good Spirits asked this of his companion: “Think she’ll catch him?” 

To which Rusty Tap replied, “Pony gotta run, hound gotta give chase. Such is the way of the world.” 

“She has big paw-thumbs,” said Good Spirits, keeping the conversation alive. 

“Yup.” Rusty Tap nodded and his lone, surviving eye glittered with quiet mirth. 

Sundance resumed his stroll, and casting a sidelong glance over his withers, he saw Amber Dawn following him. For every step he took, she had to make many to keep up, and after reflecting upon this for a short time, he saw the wisdom in putting foals down for a nap or a two. All that extra effort to keep up had to be tiring. Being the sort of pony that he was, the sum of his experiences, Sundance empathised with the plights of others. 

Near the barn-cave, Acorn was strapping himself into a harness to pull a drag-rake. 

Aware of Amber Dawn’s struggles to keep up, Sundance sat down upon the broad edge of a stone retaining wall. When she looked up at him, her eyes questioning, he held out his foreleg so that she might pull herself up. She did so, and he discovered that she was surprisingly heavy for being so little, so small. As a pegasus, Sundance was solid, sturdy, and rather light all things considered. Amber Dawn on the other hoof, was solid.

Smiling, she sat back on her haunches and when the breeze lifted her mane away from her face, she became the very embodiment of foalish innocence. Sundance, having grown up in thoroughly modern conditions with a rather austere, authoritarian mother, knew that Amber Dawn should be in school—she needed to be learning. It fell on his shoulders to provide a future for her, but he had no idea how to do such a thing. He’d brought home a nurse, a good start by any standard, but now he had to find a teacher. 

“You’re nice,” Amber Dawn said whilst looking up at Sundance. 

“I try to be,” was his reply. 

“Will you be my daddy?” 

Absolutely stymied by the question, Sundance found himself at a total loss for words. His brain, the helpful—though sometimes rather stupid organ that it was—suggested that he wasn’t ready for a relationship with this level of commitment. Amber Dawn had just bared her tiny, fragile little heart to him, and the idea of crushing it left him feeling a bit queasy. 

“You’re nice,” she said again, repeating herself, perhaps for emphasis. “The other fellas my mom meets, they’re not so nice. I’ve been kicked a few times, shouted at, told to get lost, and teased. Mean, not-nice teasing. They wanted to be alone with my mom, and wanted me to scram. How rude.” 

Somewhere, somehow, he could feel his mother’s eyes upon him, burning him, staring right into his very soul and threatening the worst of punishments if he messed this up somehow. This went beyond mere ear twisting, and his imagination began to think of the myriad of punishments his mother might spend whole days plotting. His mother had never actually done anything horrible to him, and he wanted to keep it that way. The idea of what she might do, or could do, kept him on the straight and narrow. 

How long had she planned this? She had quite some courage and he imagined her rehearsing this in her mind, waiting for just the right moment to spring this on him. Or maybe this was just one of those random things that foals did. Maybe this wasn’t planned at all. He had no way of knowing. As young as he was, there wasn’t a whole lot of experience with little foals, but he did make a point to be nice, because he didn’t want his mother twisting his ear off. 

“So, there’s a foal inside of my mom, and it has to come out. I’m not sure how it will come out, and I don’t quite know how it got in there. Mom says that Princess Luna gives moms a special dream about being a mom and then leaves a foal behind. But that seems unfair. What if you wanted to be a mom? The world is so unfair.” 

Princess Great-Aunt Luna has some explaining to do, Sundance thought to himself. Then, he came to his senses and reminded himself that it didn’t work that way. There were just too many ways for him to mess this up, and still at a loss for words, he didn’t know what to say. Was it rude to explain the mechanics of procreation? Probably. Maybe? 

“You haven’t sent me away yet, or called me a pest, or shouted at me, or anything really. This has never happened before.” Amber Dawn scooted a little closer, snorted, and then poked and prodded at Sundance’s cutie mark with her hoof. 

“Your mom and I,” Sundance said, struggling to get the words out, “we’re not involved.” 

“So?” Amber Dawn looked up at him with wide-eyed innocence of the worst sort. 

“Well, uh—” 

“I want you for myself,” Amber Dawn continued while Sundance squirmed. “If Mom can have a fella for special mommy time, then why can’t I have a fella for special me time? Mom says she has special mommy needs. Well, I got needs.” 

Sundance wanted to explain to the little filly that there was a lot going on that she didn’t understand, and that she didn’t know what she was saying, but these words flew south like birds escaping the frozen touch of winter. This was entirely innocent, even if it was set against a backdrop that wasn’t. It was also a bit weird, as Amber Dawn wanted a daddy, but didn’t necessarily want to share with her mother. There was a lot that could be said about all of this, but Sundance wasn’t the pony to say them. 

His mother had once said something about this, something he hadn’t paid much attention to, something about how good fillies went bad because of daddy issues. Aching with regret, Sundance knew that he was having one of those moments when one wished that they had paid more attention to what their mother had to say, rather than roll one’s eyes or outright ignore the wisdom being shared. 

“Look, being a daddy means being involved with your mother,” said Sundance to the filly looking up at him with unabashed adoration. “It’s a special sort of family relationship. It’s a name… it’s, uh, um, well, it’s a term really. A daddy is somepony who is a special sort of friend that is, uh, er, um, like I was saying… it’s a special sort of friend that a mommy shares with her daughter. I think. Maybe? I don’t know how to go about saying this, to be honest. Or son. I’m making a mess of this. I’m sorry. You and I can be friends and that’s—” 

“Alright!” 

Whatever words he had left in him slipped out with a relieved sigh. What had he just done? What had he got himself into? Would his tender ears survive untwisted? Little Amber Dawn appeared to be ridiculously happy at the moment, grinning, and her little ears were pricked rigid. 

“Can you read me a story?” asked Amber Dawn. “Everypony is so busy. Nopony has any time for me. Mom has been learning how to breathe, and that’s stupid. At her age, she should know how to breathe by now. It’s dumb and boring and stupid because I gotta be quiet so Mom can think and count.” 

“Well, I suppose I can read you a story.” Sundance’s head tilted off to one side. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Hitut the Unlikeable Elephant.” Amber Dawn grinned wide enough to reveal her molars. “There’s a spider with a fancy hat and an umbrella. And an elephant, an elephant with a friendship problem. There’s a crocodile witchdoctor that tells riddles, a wise stork, and zebras and everything about it is super-good!” 

“What makes an elephant unlikable?” Sundance began to wonder if the elephant was cranky, or perhaps a bit rough around the edges. Perhaps he liked to trumpet during the odd-hours of the morning, well before dawn, when others were trying to get some shut-eye. 

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough!” Amber Dawn could hardly contain herself at the moment. “Aunt Nancy is a really good spider. The best spider, really. Aunt Nancy says that no matter how bad something might seem to be, there’s usually some good to be found. That’s the best part of the story and I want to be like that. I want to find good in places where others don’t look. Because Aunt Nancy tries to look for the good in everything, Hitut gets to be a hero and he makes friends.” 

“Hmm.” 

“You brought this book home and it’s the best. We read it in school. Princess Twilight Sparkle has her special seal of super-okay-ness on the book and says it’s great for foals. I’ve been trying to read it, but some of the words are super-big and I have trouble.” 

“I have a better idea.” Sundance looked down at the filly beside him and tried to read her face. “How about you read to me, and if you get stuck on a word, I’ll help you.” 

Amber’s eyes brightened and almost seemed to be illuminated from within. “You’d listen? And not get mad? Or impatient? No hollering?” 

“I’ll listen,” he replied. “And we’re friends. No hollering. Now, how about we go and get your book, maybe find your brother, and then we’ll go someplace quiet and out of the way of others so they don’t get annoyed with us. And you can read to me. If you get stuck, it’s not a big deal. We’ll sort everything out.” 

“You’re the best daddy a filly could ask for!” Amber Dawn blurted out; then she lept from where she sat and began pronking around willy-nilly. 

Meanwhile, Sundance wondered what he was getting himself into.
> Quiet mercy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The precious time spent with Amber Dawn called to his attention something that he lacked in his life and now, as he stood scanning the skies, Sundance made a desperate attempt to distance himself from the loneliness that had long been his companion. Story time had been interrupted by the announcement that a griffon was incoming, but not the griffon he expected. 

Cucumber had told him that this griffon had visited once before, last summer, and had been told to leave. Something about a business issue with the previous Milord. How Potato knew they had a visitor incoming was anypony’s guess and Sundance had to squint to make out the faint dark speck that could be seen in the vast blue expanse overhead. 

“Cucumber, any advice?” 

“Advice, Milord?” 

“Well, What did he want the last time he was here?” Still squinting, Sundance watched as the speck grew in size—perhaps a mote. 

“I don’t rightly know, so I don’t.” The old retainer blasted out an acerbic snort and then leaned in a bit closer to Sundance. “The previous Milord thought he was here to steal, pilfer, and plunder. I don’t think that was the case at all.” With a turn of his head, Cucumber cast a sidelong glance at the pegasus to his right. “Warms my heart, so it does, watching you with that filly—” 

“Don’t go getting sentimental,” Sundance said to Cucumber while also returning the side-eye. “She’s gonna have issues, that one. It’s like she’s competing with her mother for attention and everything about the situation just rubs me wrong. Hollyhock dated some real winners, it sounds like, and some of them were less than kind to Amber Dawn. A part of me wants to go have words with that mare… stern words.” 

“A good sorting out, Sire?” 

“Yeah, but I won’t.” After a few short, sharp breaths, he added, “I like her a whole lot less now after talking to her daughter. But I can’t act on it. I mean, I want to. Trust me, I’d like to ask her just what was she thinking exposing her daughter to the sort of guys that’d do… well, what they did.” 

“Worse could have happened—” 

“Cucumber, don’t remind me.” 

“Sorry, Milord. If I may… it is reassuring to see you angry over this.” 

“Is it?” Flicking his tail, Sundance turned his head so that he could look his retainer in the eye. 

“Decency feels as if it is in short supply, Milord. The very fact that you are bothered by all of this, but that you also want to do what is best for Hollyhock shows promise, so it does.” Deep lines furrowed Cucumber’s brow as the retainer shuffled his weight from left to right. “My advice? Talk to the griffon, Gage is his name methinks, and find out what he wants. Griffons have a shrewdness for business matters, so they do. Bringing home Corduroy was a right smart move.” 

“Thank you, Cucumber.” There was a lot that Sundance wanted to say, but with a guest incoming, he kept it short. “This is hard… I mean, I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn’t… or maybe couldn’t understand how hard it would be. Stuff like this… what do I do about stuff like this? Doing right is hard. Now, I’m not one to criticise my mother, but I have a pretty good idea of how she’d handle this, and that feels wrong. This whole thing with Amber… it’s shown me that I really don’t know what I’m doing, and it’s shaken my confidence, Cucumber.” 

The old retainer’s face wrinkled up like a prune left too long in the sun. A bee went buzzing past, but Cucumber ignored it in the way that only old, prune-faced retainers could. Shuffling closer, his ears somehow stood at attention, the rigid erectness of a pony a good seventy-five years younger, or thereabouts. 

“Sire, if I may… you have the right to judge others. That’s what being the Milord entails, so it does. But that doesn’t mean that you should. In my long, long life, I’ve heard plenty of stories and tales about ponies and the deeds they do. All that’s fine, so it is, but I cannot help but wonder about what they didn’t do. Mercy is a quiet thing, Milord. It doesn’t make a good story and the best sort of mercy is the kind that nopony knows about, because everything was kept real quiet like. Sure, you could be angry with Hollyhock about the mistakes she’s made. She might even deserve it. Maybe she needs a good chewing out.” 

Here, the old pony paused, drew in a deep, wheezing breath, coughed briefly, and then continued, “Or you could be merciful. The only ones that’d know about it is me and you. Like I said, mercy is a quiet thing, so it is. Nopony else will ever know about what you didn’t do. This quiet greatness will go unnoticed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go do my rounds.” 

“Before you go…” 

“Yes, Milord?” 

“Thank you, Cucumber.”

“Don’t mention it, Sire.” Bowing his head, Cucumber retreated, his knees crackling. 



 

The griffon was quite unlike any griffon that Sundance had ever seen. Black, almost appearing to be wearing a tuxedo, and an oversized orange beak. A vastly different bird type than the typical eagle or hawk or whatever it is that most griffons were. Not being a griffon expert, he didn’t know. Sundance was pleased that his visitor landed on the runway, because it was a good runway, and he hoped it offered a good first impression. 

Too bad he could do nothing about the smell. 

“Greetings, and welcome to the Sunfire Barony. I am Sundance. How might I help you?” 

For a moment, the griffon seemed overwhelmed, perhaps because he was not expecting such a friendly greeting. Sundance wondered if he had said too much, or was too forward. Perhaps a more subdued hello might do well in the future. Maybe he needed a greeter, but with his luck he’d get somepony a bit too perky and everypony knew how annoying super-perky greeters could be. 

“Gage, right?” Sundance stood rooted to the spot and watched as his visitor folded his wings. “I understand you had poor dealings with the previous caretaker of the land. I’d like to apologise for that.” 

“I had heard this place was under new management,” the griffon said. He bowed his head low, and then, while he lifted it, he maintained confident eye-contact with Sundance. “Caught me off guard. I don’t know what I was expecting. Perhaps to be cursed at and asked to leave.” 

“All are welcome here.” Sundance wondered if he meant the words he just said. He had said them. They had just come blurting out on their own. He wanted to mean them—because they were good words, just the sort of words that the world needed right now. “So what is it that you came here for?” 

“I came here last hoping to establish a business,” Gage replied. Behind him, his tufted, feather-tipped tail undulated from side to side, perhaps from nervous energy. “I wanted to set up a farm for giant albino cave shrimp.” 

“Giant albino cave shrimp?” Sundance, perplexed, blinked a few times. 

“Yes, they can be farmed, but you have to have just the right set up. I’ve already found such a set up on your lands. A perfect place, actually. I live in Canterlot, and I work for a butcher. He’s been good to me, he pays me well enough, but every day I work, it is his business that prospers, and that is a day lost to my own ambitions.” 

In acknowledgment, Sundance nodded. 

“As a business, this will not make much money to start. In fact, I am going to have to sink every last bit of my savings into it, if it can be done. I’ll be poor for a while, but that’s fine, because I know things will work out in time. Once I get established, I’ll be able to pay you rent. But I know this will work! Trust me, it will! There’s lots of creatures in Canterlot that are carnivores and meat sources are scarce right now. If I can set up my business here, I’ll be right on Canterlot’s doorstep and my goods will be so much fresher than the stuff they bring in from the coasts.” 

“Let’s not talk about rent.” Sundance, solemn, did his best to look noble, whatever that was. “What do we need to do to get you established?” 

“You’ll help me?” Gage seemed genuinely surprised. 

“Well, right now, lots of really good and nice ponies are helping me, and I am dependant upon their kindness. Everything I currently have is because of their goodwill and charity, along with my own hard work. Turning you away would be hypocritical, I feel.” 

“Well, that’s…” Gage’s claws flexed and tapped against the stone. 

“Reasonable?” Sundance allowed one eyebrow to rise and in the back of his mind, he wondered just how much was he like his great-great-great-grandmother right now. “You’ll be farming food and that’s a precious commodity. I am of a mind to allow many creatures on my lands, and I’ll need a means to feed them. There’s already Corduroy, a diamond dog, but she’s a vegetarian. Yeah, I know, I was surprised too.” 

“That’s not something you hear every day.” Gage’s head tilted off to one side in a display of avian pique. “If I am to be a farmer, food will be easier to deal with than money.” 

“Good, it’s settled then. I’d like to see your spot. I still don’t know my own lands very well. I just haven’t had time to do a thorough exploration.” 

“It’s only reachable by air… which might have been part of the problem with the previous lord. There’s a crack where the mountain splits and down deep in the crack, there are a series of flooded caves with water that stays warm. This land is full of boiling springs.” 

Nodding, Sundance couldn’t help but feel excited. Some flying might sort his head out. There was just so much to think about, chief among them being quiet mercy. What it meant to be good. Doing right. Helping others. Growing his barony. Gage, it seemed, had arrived at just the right time. A part of him hoped that the word would spread and others would come. Why, he could be a refuge—not just for ponies, but for all in need. He wondered how his peasants would feel about that. This was their land and he was just their caretaker. 

Corduroy certainly had a warm welcome, all things considered. 

“Living standards are pretty rough at the moment, though I hope that changes soon. More housing will be built. Canterlot is well over a hundred miles away, and while you could keep living in Canterlot, I don’t think you will. You are welcome to stay with us, and to be one of us. Right now, being one of us kind of stinks.” 

“I plan to live where I work,” the griffon replied. “A wise farmer lives on his land, or so I’ve read. I don’t actually know what I am doing, but it is said to be quite simple. The shrimp take care of themselves. Oh, this is exciting.” 

“We have something in common… I don’t know what I’m doing either. I’m glad you came to me, because it spares me the trouble of trying to reach out. We are few here, and I am tasked with increasing our numbers. I really don’t know how to do that. The other night, before I went to sleep, I thought about standing on some street corner in some city and asking passersby if they wanted to live on a barony that reeks of rotten eggs. For some reason, I don’t imagine that ending well.” 

Gage seemed thoughtful, his eyes bright, and his tail slowed it’s fretful movements whilst he stood there, pondering. After a few moments, he said, “These are rough lands… perhaps the wildest part of Equestria. These mountains are a stronghold for the wilderness, and with the Everfree to the south… you know, there are griffons who would want to live here. There is a certain satisfaction in hunting and living off of the land. Perhaps place an advertisement in some of the newspapers?” 

“Newspapers?” Sundance wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. This struck him as a good idea, and something he would give some serious consideration later. Would his peasants be happy with a large population of griffons in the mountains? That remained to be seen, but if they saw them as protectors, that might make the griffons welcome. 

A good shake was all that was needed to be free of the sudden deluge of his thoughts and Sundance spread his wings in anticipation of flying. “Show me your site, Gage. Daylight is a-burning.” 



 

About twenty-five miles as the pegasus flew and Sundance found himself in one of the many secret places his barony had to offer. From above, the crack could hardly be seen. One had to fly in low, and only then would one see the narrow crevice between the evergreens, an opening of maybe two or three yards. But once one dropped into the crack, the ground opened considerably. 

The stone had been dissolved, or perhaps eroded by the constant run of water. Each side of the crevice was slick, dark with moisture, and growing things clung to the rock. Lichens? Sundance didn’t know what everything was. The floor of the crevice was several hundred feet straight down, perhaps one-hundred and fifty to two-hundred yards in total. Not much light reached down here, very little light in fact, but there was life down here. 

A sort of fungal marsh of sorts existed. Giant mushrooms grew and fungal growths clung to the walls of the slimey, flooded natural basin. There were caves down here where the water drained away, and it was quite warm. It was also quite eggy. The heart of the marshy morass was tarry with some pitch like substance and Sundance wondered if it might be some kind of flammable liquid, like naptha—something he knew nothing about, but knew of its existence. 

How had Gage found this fantastic place? 

“I’d like to make this home,” the griffon said to Sundance as he perched on a narrow shelf of stone. “There are some dry caves higher up I might settle into, or I could construct a suspended shelter that hangs in the middle, away from the wet. A lot of the mushrooms are edible, I’ve already checked, and many of them are quite delicious. They’ll fetch a pretty price in Canterlot.” 

Sundance found himself a place to land and did so without embarrassing himself. 

“The waters that flow into the caves are nutrient rich. A lot of stuff falls into this crack and then can’t get out. They can’t fly like we can. The last time I was here, some kind of big cat had fallen and died. I saw its bones over there.” The griffon pointed with his claw to a place overgrown with fungal growth. 

Squinting, Sundance wasn’t sure if he could see the pale white of bones peeking out from beneath the fungus. There were bugs down here—the sort of life that depended upon death. He couldn’t imagine this place being a dream to aspire to, and yet here he was with an interested griffon who wore an unmistakable, overeager expression that could be seen, even with his enormous, oversized beak. 

Tilting his head back, he looked up. Down here at the bottom, the crevice was wide, quite wide in fact, but he could see how it narrowed overhead. At the top, there was the narrow maw of an entrance. This place was sheltered from the elements and he imagined that it would be quite warm in the winter, but also unbearably muggy come summer. The only way out was to go up, making this place secure. 

It would make a fine home, if one didn’t mind the conditions. 

“So, do you think you can make this work? Can you be a shrimp-farmer? Will you be able to construct a shelter and somehow turn this into a meaningful business?” 

Gage’s claws scraped against the stone where he sat. “I hope so. It is a lot of work. Probably more work than I realise. But I am sick of working for another and getting so little for myself. I’m prepared to be miserable if that is what it takes to get what I want.” 

“Well then… welcome to the Sunfire Barony. We’re glad to have you.”
> Cucumber's command
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dining hall was packed with ponies and one diamond dog. Sundance surveyed them, trying to read their faces. Some were not present, having gone off to work, but most had attended, as had been requested. As for Gage, their newest resident, he was off in Canterlot securing settlement supplies for himself. Most of the faces were rather blank, a few were attentive, but thankfully, none seemed angry or upset. 

“Do you understand why I’ve brought you together today?” he asked. 

No response, and he knew why. The very idea of him seeking out their opinion on this matter baffled them, left them bewildered. This went beyond their reasoning and so far, this had been a most frustrating start to what he believed was a great idea. But to accomplish his aims, he needed their input, their thoughts, their feelings. Which seemed almost impossible to pry out of them. 

While Sundance stood rooted to the spot, thoughtful, Cucumber shuffled around to serve tea. 

“You uh…”—Earwax stretched out her ‘uh’ to an incredible length—“want to build something?” 

“Yes,” Sundance replied, nodding, “yes I do.” 

“Then build it,” Earwig said, shaking her head. “Why bother us?” 

Biting his lip, Sundance rubbed his brow with the central knuckle of his wing and summoned up all of the patience he had within him. When he was sure that he had his frustration contained, and that his voice would be smooth, alluring, and pleasant, it was only then that he allowed himself to speak. 

“This is your land. I am a facilitator. A bureaucrat. I do the work to make things happen, to make things better, to do whatever needs to be done. But make no mistake, this is your land. And I don’t want to make a decision that will hurt you, or upset you. We have a chance to do something great, but I’ll not move forward with it until I know that it is okay.” 

Still, most of the faces remained blank. Corduroy appeared sympathetic, but Sundance couldn’t quite be certain, as her face could be hard to read at times. She pinched a simple steel spoon between her paw-finger and paw-thumb, and then, with delicate deliberation, she stirred her cup of tea. 

“I’m not sure why we should care about what outsiders think of us,” said Stump, his voice rather scratchy. 

“Oh, of course the loner would say that.” Privy Pit rolled her eyes, tossed her head around, and whinnied. “That said, he has a point. We’re doing just fine without outsiders.” 

“No, we’re not.” Cucumber, who held the enormous earthenware teapot aloft, aimed a withering scowl at Privy Pit. “That’s the whole point, ye daft twit. We need new blood in the barony. We’re dying off—” 

“We have Hollyhock. I don’t see what the big deal is.” 

Privy Pit’s interruption caused a tempestuous alteration to come over Cucumber, and the old retainer’s legs stiffened as his thin, sparse hairs rose along his spine. His nostrils flared, his rheumy eyes focused, and the whistling wheeze in his barrel intensified as his transformation progressed. The teapot was placed down upon the corner of the table and Cucumber’s tail slashed the air behind him. 

Sundance, who had never seen Cucumber lose his patience, watched with the same sort of interest as one watched a tornado or a monster rising up out of the sea. His retainer’s slow boil was scary, but was impossible to turn away from. The stench of a storm filled the dining hall, something vaguely electric, and Sundance could feel a weird static crackle building up in his wings. 

“By the alicorns,” Cucumber said to Privy Pit, “yer a big dumb lummox.” 

Seething, but doing so in silence, the big, stocky mare turned away from Cucumber and did her best to ignore him. When the snickering started, Privy Pit’s ears retreated back into her mane and she ground her teeth together, fuming, but not daring to say a single word to the unicorn that kept his withering glare upon her. 

Fallow Fields, who never said much at all, cleared his throat, coughed, and then thumped the floorboards with his hoof before saying, “I’m ashamed of what our barony has become. We could be doing better. This is our chance to do better. Corduroy has been nothing but good for us.” 

“But what about zebras?” Hoe Hum asked. 

“What about them?” Flood Gate replied. “Have you ever even seen a zebra, Hoe Hum?” 

“Um, no. But I hear they have a poisonous bite. Do we really want that here?” 

Cucumber trembled, his knees knocking, and Sundance sympathised with his anger. He bit his tongue, not wanting to admonish Hoe Hum for her ignorance. Now was not the time for reprimands, because he didn’t want to sabotage his efforts. If anger poisoned the mood and the opinions of those gathered, all might be lost. 

“Zebras do not have a poisonous bite.” Corduroy’s voice held an undercurrent of annoyance, like a school teacher pushed a bit too far by a clueless, insolent student. “Nor can they steal your soul by looking into your eyes. Zebras are like earth ponies, in that they are universally disliked, mistreated, and cast out for no good reason.” 

“Really?” Earwax’s ears rose, fell, rose, fell again, and then splayed out. “Well, that ain’t right. Not right at all. I remember when those soldiers were posted here for a bit and one of them called me ‘mudpony.’ That was rude. Telling me to do this, fetch that, why, that wasn’t nice at all.” 

“Yeah.” Pea’s eyes narrowed and the geriatric gent’s face looked as though he was chewing on a lemon. “That’s not nice at all.” 

“Ol’ Cucumber gave one of them a good thrashing for teasing poor Potato.” 

“Old age and guile whooped ass on youthful vigour and stupidity, that’s for sure.” 

“Twisting his helmet around like that broke his nose. Never seen so much blood in all my life. Left him blind, too. Ol’ Cuke knows what he’s doing.” 

“But we don’t know what we’re doing.” As soon as Sauerkraut Pie said this, everypony turned to look at her. “Well, we don’t. The Milord hasn’t done us wrong and I don’t think he will do us wrong. We should trust him. Give him a chance. If he wants to make all creatures welcomed here, then we should do that. We need bodies. Workers. Nothing is in good repair anymore. All we do is make the food that feeds us, and not much else.” 

Potato smiled while her eyes drifted in two very different directions. “We could be kind.” 

“There is something to be said about being kind.” Cucumber cast one final side eye at Privy Pit and then began to relax a bit. “Most of us are not as kind as we should be. But we could be. We’re old, crotchety, and set in our ways—but it is not too late, so it isn’t. What we should be asking is, what would Princess Celestia want from us? She saw fit to give us a kind guardian. What can we give her in return?” 

“Apples?” somepony said. 

Closing his eyes, Cucumber bit his lip and chewed. 

“Pears?”

This did nothing to alleviate Cucumber’s rising blood pressure. 

“She likes fruit!” 

“And pickles of all kinds. We pickle strawberries for tribute.” 

“That mare loves her pickles. More importantly, she likes our pickles.” 

“We could take in the creatures that nopony else wants,” Cucumber blurted out, and his voice caused every ear in the room to react. “Princess Celestia would like that, so she would.” 

“So if we did this”—Earwax paused and took a moment to rub her broad chin with her hoof—“she’d be happy with us? That seems stupidly simple. Simple enough that a stupid simpleton could be doing it. So why haven’t we?” 

“‘Cause we’re smart?” 

“Shut up, Lamp Black. We’re not smart.” 

“Aw—” 

“Shut up, I said.” Hoe Hum waved her hoof for emphasis. 

“But if stupid simpletons could do it, and we’re not doing it, then we’re not stupid simpletons. We’re something else. We’re smart. See, I’m smart. I figured it out. I’m right.” 

Hoe Hum, utterly unable to make her point in any other way, smacked Lamp Black on the back of the head, a blow that might have taken the head off of any other pony, but among earth ponies, this was an affectionate love-tap, and the hollow conk of her hoof striking his skull rang throughout the room. 

“I bet that smarts,” Earwig remarked. 

“I feel smarter already.” Rubbing his head, Lamp Black sneered at the old mare beside him. “My brain hurts.” 

“You can’t hurt what isn’t there,” Hoe Hum said to the old stallion beside her. “We all heard the hollowness. Now shut yer yap before I knock the emptiness right out yer ears.” 

Cucumber, his every joint popping from strain, stood at attention. Old as he was, ancient as he was, there was still something commanding about him, an authoritative presence that demanded respect. The wisdom of a life long-lived gave him a sense of gravitas, and without a word, he quieted the room and calmed those around him. 

“Most of us exist in our twilight years,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I had thought my glory days come and gone. I was a soldier in that nasty dispute of ours that tore our nation in twain. Some of you were there. Some of you lot were born after. We’ve been on the decline since the war changed our fortunes.” 

Looking around the room, the ancient unicorn blinked, his ears pivoted about, facing every direction, and his proud, straight neck remained rigid. “We have one final chance for greatness. Yes, we’re old. Our time is done… but before we go, we have a final chance to show our quality. We can leave a legacy. Hollyhock and her foals will be inheriting whatever we leave behind… and that’s our covenant—to leave behind better than we got. Who remembers our covenant?” 

Pea raised his head, his ears pinned back, and he said in a rumbling baritone, “I do.” 

“Look at this place. Have we kept our covenant?” Cucumber asked. 

Every pony present averted their eyes and looked down at the floor. Ears drooped. Tails sagged. A sense of sadness could be felt, but it could also be seen on Cucumber’s face. Ponies shuffled closer together, some touching one another for reassurance. Sundance said nothing; he felt like an outsider at the moment as he observed their grief. 

“The Milord has himself a bit of vision on what to do. It’s a good vision. I’m not sure I understand it wholly, but I don’t need to understand it. It’s my job to work to make it happen. He’s earned our trust. We appealed to Princess Celestia to give us a compassionate steward—she gave us him. She found us a new Baron. So for her sake, and for his sake, and for our own sakes… with whatever life we have left in our bodies, we owe them our best.” 

“Hear hear,” said Earwax while her sister, Earwig, nodded beside her. 

“Let us have unity,” Cucumber continued while his eyes darted about, seeking out each face. Then, upon reaching some silent consensus, he turned to face Sundance. “Make this place welcome to all. We don’t have much time left. Help us leave something worthwhile behind.” 

Bowing his head, Sundance nodded, acknowledging the solemn moment. “I’ll do my best.” 

“Milord, we’ll all do our best. We owe you that. You’ve given us your best, of that there can be no doubt. I honestly believe that you have our better interests in mind, over your own, so I do.” 

“Thank you, Cucumber.” 

“Yer welcome, Milord, so you are.” 

“No, thank you. For everything. For getting everypony to agree. To come together.” Sundance offered up the warmest smile he could muster. “Now, if I could have just a little bit more of your time, I’d like to talk with all of you on how we can move forward. I’ve had some ideas. Little ideas that might help us. Some big ideas too. So now, we need to figure out what we’re capable of, and once we’ve done that, we need to plan. For me to make a plan, I need to know what you’re capable of, and from there, we move forward. Now, I promise that I won’t bore you to tears…”
> There's always that one rude neighbor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a spring day, it sure was awful warm. Sundance sat in the grass, his mind on the meeting that had just been adjourned, and he was feeling great. About everything. He felt hopeful. Cucumber had rallied the peasants and together, they supported his cause of unity. Of course, whether or not it worked remained to be seen, but he was feeling overwhelmingly optimistic. Cucumber was a pony that Sundance admired, respected a great deal, and having his support made everything better. 

Plans had been laid out; official plans, with milestones for progress. Of course, this meant more work for him, but he was okay with that. For now, and for the foreseeable future, he would have to haul goods to Canterlot himself—which was fine. When they started to have goods to take to market, he would do so. 

“Hey, you, listen up.” 

Not content to merely have his attention, Corduroy physically grabbed him by his right ear and pulled his head around so that he might look her in the eye. She hunkered down, and as she did so, he wondered how she had snuck up on him. Had he been that distracted by his own thoughts? She was gentle, but firm, a no-nonsense nurse. 

“I’m going to be heading to the marsh to survey alchemical ingredients, so I can see what I have to work with. If Hollyhock has any sort of problems at all, even just bad cramping, you come and find me. I’m white, so I should be easy to spot from the air.” Then, as a kind gesture, she let go of his ear and patted him on the head whilst saying, “Good pony.” 

“The marsh,” Sundance replied. “The marsh down at the end of the river where the orchard is?” 

“Yeah, that one. I’ll be stuck in the muck for a while.” 

“Good luck,” he offered. “I hope you find… stuff.” 

“I hope I find stuff too.” Then, wagging her tail, Corduroy departed. 



 

While there was always something to do, there wasn’t a whole lot to do. The crops were planted. Corduroy’s stone block infirmary was nearing completion; at the moment, timbers were being hewn to form the roof, which would be shingled with blue slate. The walls were finished, had openings for windows and a door, which he needed to go to Canterlot and purchase. 

But Sundance wasn’t sure how he might get panes of glass home safely. 

As for the door, it would be big, maybe too big for the cart. The door would need to be two-yards long and the sky truck had a five-foot bed. Something could be figured out, but he was too distracted to think of solutions. It was too-perfect of a day and the warm sun made him think about napping. The clouds here quite nappable, pleasant, perfect, because they were natural clouds, and not smog clouds belched from smokestacks. 

Eating boiled mush and plain vegetables was wearing on him; he longed for something fried, something crispy perhaps. Something sweet might be good, or salty—or salty and sweet. He thought of deep fried cheese curds and his mouth flooded with drool, which he struggled to contain. Or chocolate-dipped caramel-coconut bombs. Thinking of the food he loved, he missed his life in the city. 

Potato—who was surrounded by goats—went still. She sniffed once, twisted her head about in an almost owl-like manner, and then cocked her head off to one side, as if she was straining to hear something. Sundance took note of all these things, and wondered if they had a visitor incoming, or if Gage was returning from Canterlot. 

“Owlbear,” Potato announced, and then she scrammed.

In mere moments, she had led the goats and livestock into the fortress-barn, and panic, like a wildfire, spread. Sundance tried to make sense of what had just happened, and his brain was still catching up when he heard somepony shout, “OWLBEAR!” 

The peace was gone in seconds as there was a flurry of activity. Potato came out of the barn, moving at an impressive run for her age, at any age, really, and she plucked up two foals with remarkable ease and plopped them on her back—all while never slowing down. Cucumber hefted Hollyhock, who could not move fast enough on her own and while this was happening, Sundance concluded that they had precious seconds, as the owlbear was coming. 

Potato’s early warning had saved them. 

“Get inside!” somepony hollered. “Get in the barn! Shut the doors!” 

Hearing a roar, Sundance turned just in time to see a creature of nightmares as it lept from the top of the waterfall. It was—immense, defying all description, and much to his relief, it did not fly, though it had wings. These wings, far too small, allowed the creature to have a sort of controlled fall, and it landed on all fours not far from the waterfall basin. 

Sundance was on his hooves in an instant. 

It moved too fast for a creature so large and Sundance took the air—but did not fly away. Instead, he offered himself up as a distraction, because ponies were still retreating to the barn. Not thinking about what it was that he was doing, he placed himself between the owlbear and easy prey. 

With a roar, it stood up and advanced. It had to be more than three-yards tall and it moved like a lumbering mountain on legs. Some of the ponies, unable to reach the barn, took refuge inside of the dining hall instead. Sundance darted to and fro, never staying in one place for long, and this caused the owlbear to hesitate. In a moment of mind-numbing terror, Sundance realised that he had no idea how to fight this creature, how to make it go away, so that he could keep his peasants safe. 

Yet fight it he would, for reasons he could not understand nor explain. 

Owlbears; ancient enemies of the pegasus tribe. Horrendous brutes that would climb up the sides of mountains, bash their way into pegasus rookeries, and feast on any foals they could find. Anything that was easy pickings, really, such as the elderly and the infirm. They rarely went for difficult meals, and this one, true to its kind, had come to this place populated by the elderly in search of a snack. 

“I told you not to come back!” Earwig’s voice rang out and echoed through the box canyon as a hurled stone arced through the air. 

It struck the owlbear right on the noggin, but did no real damage. This was disconcerting, as it was a pretty big rock, a sizable rock, and it had been thrown by a stout earth pony. Sundance wondered how the owlbear’s skull had not shattered. Incensed, driven to rage, the owlbear charged right for Earwig—and Sundance was almost too startled to react. 

Earwig scarpered; She retreated, moving at a fantastic gallop, heading right for Plowshare and Rocky Ridge, neither of whom were moving. Sundance moved to intercept, and even flew a little too close to the owlbear perhaps, but the charging ambush predator ignored him. Earwig’s hooves cut divots into the grass and sent black soil flying up in rooster tails behind her. 

Running full-tilt, Earwig ran right between both Plowshare and Rocky Ridge, and as she did, she shouted, “NOW!” 

The owlbear ran on two legs, its wings flapping furiously, which made it light and agile. Plowshare and Rocky Ridge, arguably the strongest of the ponies of the barony, raised up two sharpened wooden poles that had been concealed in the grass, and the charging owlbear was unable to stop in time. One wooden pole impacted the owlbear’s ribs and shattered into splinters. The other skewered it right in its soft guts, impaled it, and the crude point came tearing out of the owlbear’s back. 

Rocky Ridge was quick to escape, but Plowshare was not so fortunate. One of his mighty knees popped—a sound so loud that it echoed—and he almost fell to the ground. Earwig was throwing rocks again, trying to get the owlbear to focus on her, and Sundance, at a loss for what to do, began looking around for anything that might help, otherwise poor Plowshare would be a goner. 

His sharp pegasus eyes saw a glint of shiny steel and Stump’s splitting maul presented itself. Moving faster than he had ever moved before, Sundance flew over to the woodpile where Stump’s splitting maul had been left when the panic erupted. Gripping it in his fetlocks, Sundance zoomed through the air and reached the owlbear just as it was dropping down to maul poor Plowshare. 

With a desperate overhead chop, Sundance brought the splitting maul down upon the back of the owlbear’s head, hoping that he might cleave it in two. 

The creature screeched, yelped, and then shrieking in pain, it stood up, the splitting maul now lodged in its skull. It ran in circles, its forelegs flailing about, its wings flapping, but it was unable to reach the wooden handle of the splitting maul buried in its skull. For a moment, Sundance felt bad about what he had done, the agony that he had caused. 

But that moment of regret did not last long. 

Wasting not a second of time, Earwig rescued Plowshare—she hefted him up like a sack of potatoes—and she sprinted away on two legs with the much larger stallion held in her forelegs like a foal. The owlbear—occupied and focused on its own pain—continued to wail and moan while it had its spastic fits, a titan stung by a wasp. Sundance meanwhile, was now feeling the first pangs of anger. How could the owlbear just ignore him? Was he not a worthy foe? Could it be possible he was so worthless that he did not even make an acceptable meal? 

This was insulting like nothing he had experienced.

The owlbear—with the splitting maul still protruding from its skull—now moved towards the dining hall. Sundance, fearful, followed, but try as he might, he could not seem to get the owlbear’s baleful attention, though he did everything short of flying right into its face. Much to his relief, the barn doors, the massive, fortified doors to the cave, were shut, and no doubt reinforced from the inside. 

Helpless, Sundance buzzed around the owlbear’s head, getting as close as he dared, but not too close. No matter what he did, he could not get the ursinoid invader to focus on him, and he tried everything. One sharpened pole was skewered through the creature’s body, and it had a splitting maul stuck in its head. Could nothing slow it down? What did it take to kill it? How could it survive these injuries? 

Sundance thought of his javelins, tucked away for safekeeping so nopony might get hurt. 

With a swipe of its paw, the owlbear ripped open the roof and the outer wall of the dining hall, revealing the panicked, shrieking ponies inside. Earwig, the defiant one, stood her ground, protecting those behind her. Sundance had to do something, he was panicked now. Another swipe turned more of the roof into rubble and splinters, making the opening almost large enough for the owlbear to crawl inside. One more swipe would do it. The dining hall was the best they had, their gathering place, the only warm, comfortable spot in the whole barony. 

A sort of dreadful rage took over Sundance; it caused him to tremble, he drooled profusely even though his tongue had turned to leather, and the most awful red spots danced in his vision. Never in his life had he been this angry—this assertive. He would get the owlbear’s attention, and make the owlbear focus on him. 

Twisting himself around in the air, Sundance aimed his hindquarters at the handle of the splitting maul and then bucked out his hind legs with all of the strength his rage could muster. The results—immediate—were spectacular. There was a squeal of metal against bone, a dreadful sound, a haunting sound that would remain in his memory until his dying day. It was a screech that came right out of the blackest pits of Tartarus. 

The pain was such that the owlbear almost had a seizure, by the looks of it, and it began to flail about. Sundance, far too close, was clubbed by the owlbear’s waving leg; it sent him ragdolling through the air, somersaulting end over end, until he smacked headfirst into the stone wall of a cottage, which crumbled and collapsed atop him upon impact. 





Nothing worked. Sundance couldn’t make anything work. His legs refused to move, his wings had no sensation, and he couldn’t tell which way was up or down. Sharp edges of rubble cut into him and he was buried beneath what remained of the cottage. When sensation did return to his limbs, the pain was so terrible that he didn’t want to move. Never in his life had he been in this much pain. He’d lived a sheltered life up to this point, mostly safe from danger, extreme injury, and overbearing hardship. As he lay there, buried beneath the remains of the cottage, he wondered what he was doing here. 

When the rubble was slapped away by an enormous owlbear paw, Sundance screamed. Perhaps it was his imagination, his terror, but it felt as though those claws passed mere inches away from his flesh. He scrambled, trying to get away, and he emerged from the pile of stone, roots, and sod. Again, the owlbear slashed at him, and this time, the claws snagged his neck. At first, the damage was not great, it was merely a glancing blow to start, but as the claws traveled down his neck, to his withers, they tore through flesh, going deeper, and deeper. Down his back the claws traveled, visiting misery along the way, and Sundance could do nothing to defend himself. 

With a grunt, he collapsed back down into the rubble, overcome by pain, and when the owlbear raised his paw for another swipe, Sundance—his senses both dulled and on fire—waited for the end to come. The dreadful sensation of torn flesh rubbing against itself was too much to bear, too much to process, and he tried to shut it out of his mind. 

“Come away from him!” 

Cucumber’s voice was almost unrecognisable. It wasn’t Cucumber, the retainer, but rather, Cucumber, the soldier. Cucumber, the veteran. The commanding voice roused Sundance from his stupour, it dragged him up from the depths that threatened to claim him. 

“I warned ye what would happen if ye came back!” 

Cucumber advanced, fearless, his legs stiff, his spine ramrod straight. “I told ye when ye left the last time that I’d kill ye if ye returned, ye great brute! Step away from the Milord and I’ll give ye a merciful death, which is more than ye deserve, ye lout!”

The owlbear had another go at the prone pegasus, and this time, roused by Cucumber’s voice, Sundance scrambled away. Somehow, he pulled himself from the rubble, stood up, and wobbled away, just out of the owlbear’s monstrous reach. A dreadful crackle could be heard, and Cucumber appeared to be charging up some sort of spell. Sundance realised that he only had to stay out of harm’s way for as long as it took for the spell to reach potency.

He couldn’t fly; the damage to his muscles prevented that, and he wasn’t quick on his hooves at the moment. The owlbear was yanked back by some invisible force, Sundance didn’t stop to wonder how, or why. It was hot now, as if the sun had come too close, or if he was standing a bit too near to a raging furnace. 

“Ad serve sole!” Cucumber cried, and there was a flare of light that blinded Sundance. 



 

When Sundance could see again, the owlbear lay on the ground, unmoving. There was a massive, gaping hole burned through its torso, an almost bloodless wound that had been cauterised by the sheer heat of the blast. As far as holes went, it was quite large—big enough for a slender pony to crawl through, not that one would. The splitting maul still protruded from the back of the creature’s skull. 

Tearing his eyes away from the fallen owlbear, Sundance glanced over to where Cucumber had stood, but his retainer no longer stood. He lay in the grass, a heap of legs, and Sundance, his whole body aching and his gashes oozing blood, rushed over to aid his fallen retainer. 

When Sundance drew near, what he saw alarmed him. Thin, runny blood poured from Cucumber’s nostrils and one eye—his left—was glazed with blood. His horn was still smoking, a little curl of smoke rose and wafted upwards. Sundance realised that he didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t fly right now and his retainer—his friend—needed help. 

“Cucumber?” Sundance’s words came out thick and muted. 

“With my last, I have served the Sun.” Cucumber’s words were slurred, distorted, and difficult to make out. 

“I wish I had come sooner.” 

The unrecognised voice caused Sundance to jerk in place, which caused his torn muscles to ache all the more. He whirled around and much to his surprise, he saw a pale alicorn folding his wings. This one was thin looking, with spindly legs, a thin body, and an even thinner neck. It wore glasses, something that Sundance had never seen on an alicorn before. 

But the paleness stood out and was terrifying, given the situation. 

“I knew the stroke was coming, but not the cause. I felt it this morning.” The pale alicorn advanced, his head turned in Cucumber’s direction. “I was compelled to come, so that I might hear a confession.” 

“Who are you?” Sundance demanded as his peasants began to peek out from their hiding places. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I get lost in the flow of the Ink sometimes and the present blurs over for me. I’m Sumac. Lord of Lulamoon Hollow.” Upon reaching Cucumber’s side, the graceful alicorn paused and lowered his head to have a better look at the fallen unicorn. “We don’t have much time, Revered One. I can save you from a terrible fate, but you have to work with me. Confession will break the chains that bind your soul.” 

“What’s going on?” Sundance demanded, lost, confused, hurt, angry, and bewildered. 

“You. You’re needed. As the Lord of this land, you are bound to it. Come. I do not sense your death today, so you’ll be fine.” Extending his wing, Sumac made a gesture for Sundance to come closer. “Don’t stand there with your mouth hanging open. Do your best to look lordly in every situation. These ponies depend on you.” 

“But I—” 

“We have a soul to save, Sundance. The living will sort themselves out, but you and I… we have a special task. Come. Do not question and do as I say. Our time grows ever-shorter.” 

Compelled by a curious force, Sundance found that he had no desire to resist. Something important beckoned, he was needed. A strange, unexepected calm overcame him and his senses returned to him little by little. He watched as his retainer was lifted from the grass, and he noticed that everything on Cucumber’s left hung limp. 

“How a life ends,” said Sumac as he carried Cucumber away, “is every bit as important as how it was lived. I wish to help you die well, Revered One.”
> What manifests
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Sundance stood watching, stunned, with blood trickling down his sides and seeping into his wings, Sumac repaired the dining hall. The splintered, broken pieces of wood swirled in a vortex of magic and reassembled themselves, very much like a puzzle putting itself together. Even in his stupefied state of shock, it was wondrous to witness. When Sumac was done, the dining hall looked as though it had never been ripped apart by an angry, rampaging owlbear. 

Standing near the doorway, Sumac said, “I do apologise, but I must ask you to leave.” 

One by one, the peasants filed out of the dining hall, each of them with their heads held low. Not from fear, but from respect it looked like. They looked at Cucumber’s limp body as they went by, and some of them wept. Sundance felt woozy, his wounds both ached and burned, but something in the back of his mind told him that his own needs were of the least importance. A curious sense of resolve swept over him, a feeling of peace, and he found the wherewithal to go on. 

What sustained him, he did not know, but he felt it like a fever in the blood. 

“It’s happening,” said Sumac. 

“What is?” asked Sundance. 

“We shall see. Come. Follow me. What we do next determines your future, as well as Cucumber’s.” 

“How?” 

“As I said, follow me.” 



 

Cucumber was laid down upon a blanket, near the fire, and Sumac knelt down beside him. The old retainer’s breathing was pained gasp after pained gasp, and Sundance could feel his heart in his throat. Cucumber’s left side was lifeless, limp, it sagged with no muscle movement and his left legs did not move, not even in the slightest. 

“I hear crows…” 

“Don’t be afraid, Cucumber. You hear ravens, actually. That’s Brave and Nibo. They are not patient, but they will wait until we finish. The Guédé will do as I bid them.” After settling in beside the dying unicorn, Sumac asked, “Do you know why I am here?” 

At first, there was no response from Cucumber, and Sundance, uncertain of what was going on, crept closer. He eased himself down to the floor, and when he did so, he left a tremendous smear of blood on the wooden planks. Cucumber sniffled a bit, and then, without warning, began to weep. It was unbearable to witness, and Sundance, stricken by the sight and sound of it, turned away. 

“If you confess, it will make your passing and what comes after easier. After your life of service, you deserve a rich, rewarding afterlife. My purpose is to wipe the slate clean. Oaths and vows are serious things, Cucumber—” 

“You already know.” Cucumber breathed out the words and when he did so, blood-flecked spittle turned his lips crimson. “Why torment me? You already know.” 

“Of course I know,” Sumac responded, his ears falling into a passive, almost sorrowful position. “It is my business to know. But I am not here to torment you. I want to save you.” 

A pitiful wail came from Cucumber, a shuddering gasp, and then weak sobs. Sundance, unable to bear the moment, squeezed his eyes shut, and did so hard enough to make himself see stars on the inside of his eyelids. The pain of his torn flesh was nothing compared to the exquisite ache felt in his heart. 

“I broke my vow. I broke… my oath.” Cucumber closed his right eye, but his left eyelid didn’t budge, and his bloodshot, bright red eye remained visible. “I killed the Milord.” 

Sundance’s eyes flew open and he saw Sumac wincing with pain. 

“Why, Cucumber? Can you tell us why? Can you tell us what happened?” 

“He… he was… he was going to evict us… all of us. Cast us out. He told me… he told me”—Cucumber’s barrel was hitching so hard that the stricken unicorn could barely speak—“he told me that he was going to dissolve the barony’s trust and sell our land.” 

Sundance almost choked on his own tongue. 

“After he told me, I… I…”—here, his right eyelid fluttered open and a frightful, manic gleam could be seen in his rheumy eye—“I plotted his death. Later, that night in fact, when he came down the stairs to greet me, I made him slip.” 

“And you caused his death with a fall?” Sumac asked, his voice low, kind, and without judgment. 

“No… he lived. He tried to attack me. I flung him around the room—I wanted it to look like he’d fallen down the stairs, you see. But he just wouldn’t die. The old stubborn bastard just shrugged it off and he just wouldn’t die.” Cucumber’s right front leg made a feeble kick, and then he went still. “When he would not die, I broke his neck. I twisted it around three times, so I did.” 

Sumac, thoughtful, pulled his head back, and Sundance, horrified, went blank with shock. It was too much; all of it was too much. The owlbear’s attack, Cucumber’s injury, and now, as the retainer lay dying, the worst, the most awful of confessions. When the pain grew overwhelming, tears streamed from the corners of Sundance’s eyes and his vision lost its sharpness, leaving everything he saw dull and indistinct. 

“I am loyal to the land,” said Cucumber, muttering the words so slurred that they were difficult to comprehend. “My charges, I had to save them… I had to save them from the Baron. What else could I do? Can I be forgiven? I broke my oath… I don’t regret what I did to the Milord, but I do feel bad that I broke my word. It pains me… so it does.” 

Sumac’s head turned and Sundance saw his own blurry reflection in the green glass of the alicorn’s round spectacles. “This one is on you, Sundance.” 

“On me?” he asked, incredulous, uncertain, and fearful. 

“You’re the Lord of this land. You alone have the power to forgive—” 

“Me? I don’t know if I deserve that. I’m just a pegasus. You… you’re an alicorn.” 

“I am not the Lord of this land,” said Sumac in response. “Whatever great power I have, it means nothing here.” Reaching out, Sumac stroked Cucumber’s side, a gentle action to comfort the dying unicorn. “Don’t take long, Sundance. I can slow death, but I can’t cheat Lima Bean of what is rightfully hers. She and her servants will only wait for so long.”

“What do I do?” Sundance began to feel a frantic sense of worry gnawing at him. 

“You forgive… or you don’t.” Sumac turned away, lowered his head, and turned it at an angle so that he might look into Cucumber’s frantic right eye. 

“Why is this so important?” Fearing his lack of time, Sundance still wanted to understand what was going on, so that he could make sense of it. 

“Oaths and vows carry with them a special magic all their own. Cucumber is an Oathbreaker, a deed far worse than murder. Though, that’s pretty bad, too.” 

“I’m scared.” Cucumber’s whimpered words cut through Sundance’s fog of panic. 

“I forgive you,” Sundance blurted out. “All is forgiven. You… you didn’t… you did no wrong, Cucumber. You saved the land and the peasants, and that’s important. You… you… you saved”—he struggled to find meaningful words to say, so that his trusted retainer would be reassured in his final moments—“without you I wouldn’t have a barony to save. You saved the land so I could claim it. You didn’t kill the previous Milord, he gave up his claim to the title the moment he betrayed the land.” 

There was no response from Cucumber, who had gone still. 

“Cucumber?” Sundance crawled forward on his belly, leaving a vivid smear of scarlet behind him. “Cucumber?” 

A pocket watch blinked into existence near Sumac’s head. He opened it, looked inside, muttered something to himself, and then, as if weary, he sighed. Sundance, almost frantic, reached out to touch Cucumber, but at the last moment, hesitated. Death was something new to him, something unknown—something terrible that he discovered that he could not bear. 

When the agony reached a point he thought might break him, something happened. Warmth overtook him, his pain eased just a bit, and the floodgates opened. Sundance bawled like a foal, even as the curious sensation continued to overtake him. Outside, he heard shouts, and drifting in a state of near euphoria, he wondered what was going on. 

“It’s happening,” Sumac said in a voice of fantastic calm as the pocket watch vanished. 

Sundance wanted to know what, but found that he could not speak. 

“Princess Celestia will surely be sensing this,” Sumac continued as he rose into a standing position. “I’d expect a visitor soon. She’ll be sad to discover Cucumber’s passing. Come. I have something to show you. I can sense it as it grows. I think… I think seeing it will make you feel better. Twilight’s magic is at work.” 

Sundance felt himself pulled up into a standing position, which pained him. He wanted to stay near Cucumber, his retainer, his friend. He gave Sumac a blank stare as his emotions swirled into a dangerous, tempestuous force within him. There was pain, to be sure, but it was dulled, and the feeling of euphoria was peaking. It was almost like the time he had gone to the dentist and they had given him a little too much laughing gas. 

“Come, Sundance. I want to show you something.” With a sad smile, Sumac covered Cucumber with a blanket. “We’ll bury him, together. But we have to wait. I’m confident that we’ll have guests. For now, follow me.” 



 

Blubbering, his heart broken, Sundance allowed himself to be led along by Sumac. His wounds still oozed blood, it dribbled down his sides and bright red droplets soaked into the soil that he tread upon. His peasants had gathered into a circle, but Sundance was not sure why. He felt the soft touch of feathers beneath his chin, his head was lifted, Sundance blinked, not sure what he was seeing. 

A small crystal tree. 

At least, it looked like a small crystal tree. It was a tiny thing, as if it had just sprouted. When he looked at it, he felt tingles all over, in his hooves, his feathers, in his bones. It was beautiful like nothing else, delicate, and at the moment, it was the only thing that he could see with any clarity. There it stood, right in the middle of everything, between the barn and the dining hall. 

Perhaps more miraculous was the fact that it was growing. 

“The land has accepted you,” Sumac whispered into Sundance’s ear. “This is Twilight’s most wondrous magic. She’s enchanted all of the Clock Face Fiefdoms. Twilight’s not one to leave things to chance. I don’t understand the magic at work, but I have my own little crystal tree at home. When I do good things, it grows. When I make poor decisions, it shrinks.” 

Agape, Sundance stared at the tiny crystal tree. 

“You forgave Cucumber and showed mercy. In his final moments, you brought him comfort so he could pass in peace. Right now, even as I speak, your blood flows into the soil. You have bled for this land, suffered for your claim, and the land has found you worthy. Look, Sundance. Look at what your actions have caused, and know that you are worthy. May you always prove worthy.” 

“Cucumber is gone?” somepony asked. 

“He is,” Sumac replied. 

A pall settled over the crowd, a serene, but sorrowful quiet. Staring at the tiny crystal sapling, Sundance felt something creeping up from the ground, into his hooves, through his bones, something that almost felt like motes of sunshine flowing through his blood. Cucumber, Sundance felt, would be happy to know that his death had served a purpose, that with his passing this miracle had come about. 

Still at a loss for words, Sundance blubbered, and was not ashamed to let the others bear witness.
> Wake
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Sundance looked back over his withers to check out his wounds, he cringed mightily and wished he hadn't. Three long gashes stretched from his neck down past the middle of his back, with an occasional fourth at various points. Parts of them had scabbed over, but there were still places that were oozing blood—precious blood that made him wonder just how much blood could he possibly have inside of him. 

Without saying a word, Corduroy turned his head around, but he didn’t much care for this view either, as Cucumber was wrapped in a blanket just about a yard away. In the aftermath of it all, Sundance’s senses were dulled and it was difficult to think about any one thing for any meaningful length of time. Whimpering a bit, he rested his head down upon the table and wished he had a pillow. 

Sumac was outside, doing the job that Sundance felt that he should be doing. At the moment, he felt compelled to do all manner of things, but as weak as he was, as woozy as he was, he was in no condition to do much of anything. He could hear Corduroy preparing to do whatever it was that she was going to do, but he didn’t know what she was going to do, not exactly. He was scared though, terrified that whatever came next would involve more pain. 

“These are not clean cuts,” she said, her voice heavy and deep with concern. “The flesh was ripped, not cut. From the looks of things, those claws had sharp points, but not sharp edges. I have to be honest, I’ve never treated wounds like these before. Sewing them up will be tricky.” 

It sounded as though Corduroy needed reassuring, but Sundance wasn’t sure what to do, or how, for that matter. He needed reassuring himself. “We’re all just doing our best here, Corduroy.” He was shocked by how slurred his own words were and icy-cold claws of fear raked at his flesh. 

“Only some spots are really deep. You got lucky. Any deeper on your neck and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Up there, the skin is torn, but not much else. However, as we go further down… well… this will be a learning experience for me. I’m going to give you something to drink, and that’s going to dull the pain a bit. This is still going to be a nightmare though, as I have to irrigate the wounds, scrub them, and disinfect them. Which, I imagine will be mighty unpleasant. Actually, if you’d like, I could put you under.” 

“Do that.” His request was one of fearful desperation. 

“I feel like Corduroy, Frontier Nurse. Here I am, about to do actual surgery on a dining room table in conditions that are less than ideal. I wish Doctor Hedge was here. Ugh.” 

He waited, not knowing what would happen next, fearful and worried about Corduroy. Some kind of weird magic bubbled and stewed within his brain, and he could feel it even now. He wanted to see his crystal tree, to be close to it, to protect it. To watch it grow, to see it flourish because of his good deeds. 

Something warm and wet was placed over his nose, and with it came a suffocating smell that dulled his senses. He tried to push it away from him with his forelegs, but they didn’t work. Nothing worked. It was as if his mind had been disconnected from his body and left to drift. The last thing that he heard was Corduroy saying, “Tell me, does this towel smell like ether?” 



 

Hearing muffled voices, Sundance tried to listen. It felt as though he was underwater, a warm, gentle pressure surrounded him and he wondered if he was drifting. He remembered swimming in the ocean, the scent of salt, the caress of wind, and the warm brininess of the water.  His mother didn’t want him swimming in the ocean, because it was dirty and the city of Baltimare’s sewage emptied into the bay. 

Swimming in the salt water always changed the texture of his coat, his mane, and his tail, leaving them coarse, with far too many tangles. He remembered the sights and smells of the boardwalk; his father didn’t like going, but his mother did, and it was always a treat, a wonderful time. As he drifted along the tidelands between memory, dreams, and the vast continent of reality, he wondered upon which shore the rushing tide might leave him. 

Other things moved about him, soft, gentle things that slid smoothly along his skin. Somepony was singing, some lullabye whose words he could not comprehend. Lights flashed, but he was only aware of the sensation of light. All of his senses turned blue and he felt the swirling current wrap around him, as if he were a swaddled foal. He was content to drift here in this place, to be swept away by the moon-borne tides. 

Slowly, bit by bit, little by little, what he sensed became real. It was water all around him, surrounding him, drowning him. No, not drowning. There was fluid in his lungs, but he was not starved for air. The tides turned amniotic and he felt reality solidify into substance around him while the haunting melody of the lullabye retreated deeper into his ears. 



 

Groggy, his mouth full of cotton and something foul, Sundance attempted to open his eyes. His first attempt went poorly, and the stinging light forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. Phantom bells rang in his ears and while most of his body felt quite numb, his back felt as though it had been set ablaze. 

“Oh, oh, I think I see his eyes moving!” 

He was unable to place the familiar voice in his current state and amidst the ringing bells he heard the sound of flowing liquid. The sensation of blue was still with him, a deep, dark, nighttime blue. His stomach lurched and the acrid flavour of bile joined the taste of cotton and yuck. Somepony lifted his head, but did so carefully, and something was placed against his lips. 

When he felt the wet, he drank, but swallowed too much too soon. He choked, coughed, sputtered, and while he fought to breathe, his eyes managed to open, but everything was far too blurry. After hacking for a bit, he was able to breathe again, and the cup was placed near his lips once more. 

“Slowly,” a voice said. 

A slow trickle was poured into his mouth and Sundance wished for more. The liquid was cold, delightful, refreshing. After a few swallows, he realised it was apple juice—and it was the best apple juice he had ever tasted. The sweetness washed away the taste of bile and soaked through the cotton that had left his mouth as dry as a desert. 

When his eyes focused, he saw a beak. What sort of pony had a beak? He blinked, his thoughts far too scattered for any sort of meaningful conjugation, and he focused upon the sweet, sweet taste of apples instead. Never in his life had his throat ever been this dry and as more and more of his senses returned to him, he wondered how long he had been out. 

“Oh, look, he’s awake. See, Nuance, I told you he’d be fine. Now dry those tears, dear.” 

Nuance? Sundance made a dedicated effort to get his eyes open and make them focus. The beak was a good start. Slow, little by little, it gained clarity and he saw Silver Lining looking down at him with worried, expressive eyes. His ether-addled mind balked at the idea of doing anything other than looking and drinking. 

“Hi,” said Silver Lining. “Can you see me? You woke up in the middle of getting sewed up and freaked out. It took a lot of ether to put you back under. You gave your nurse quite a shiner.” 

Sundance tried to say something, but all that came out was a whimper. Another face slipped into his vision, and this one looked down at him with great concern. Princess Celestia’s face was quite literally like a ray of sunshine, and the gentle warmth she radiated restored his senses. He looked up at her, she looked down at him, and what little of Sundance’s mind that currently worked wondered what she saw. 

“Rise and shine, Grandson. You have a funeral to attend.” 



 

As Sundance recovered, and Silver Lining helped him drink apple juice, Princess Celestia chatted away at him as if there was nothing wrong: “Poor Nuance, he wasn’t prepared for all of this and I think it’s been a little overwhelming. Today was Nuance’s Day, the day that we spend together, and when everything happened and I made preparations to leave, I had to bring him with me, because it is really very important to keep your promises. I thought I’d be bringing Nuance to a celebratory occasion, but as it turns out, I was wrong. It seems as though you earned your tree the hard way, Grandson. As for my dear little Nuance, he’s getting to learn firsthoof that Mommy’s life is no bed of roses. At least I kept my promise to spend the day with him.” 

Nuance sat on the floor, his ears erect, and every time his mother said his name, he sighed. 

“I had high hopes,” the alabaster behemoth said, still nattering away while Sundance drank. “When I gave you this position, I had the highest hopes, but I also had a few concerns. You’re a bit… passive, dear. Well, passive in a relative sense. Anypony who chases after a rampaging owlbear is most certainly not passive. My sister wrestles them for sport and let me tell you, sometimes, she comes home in a rather rough state. Nasty creatures, owlbears. Magical predators. They have to eat magical creatures to maintain themselves. Just nasty, really. 

“Owlbears never stop growing, they only get larger and larger as the years go by. Their bones turn harder than iron and over time, they become quite difficult to kill. Your peasants told me what you did. Nasty, nasty business with that axe. I dare say that you gave that owlbear quite a headache. You’re very brave, Sundance… but we’ve established that. And maybe just a little stupid. Not many ponies would intentionally try to become the focus of an owlbear’s rage.” 

While Princess Celestia paused, Sundance managed to croak out a single word: “Corduroy…”

“Oh, your lovely nurse is quite busy. All the excitement caused somepony to go into labour. One life ends, another begins. Such is life.” With a turn of her head, she looked down at her son, Nuance. “Nuance, would you like to see a mare give birth? It would be good for you to have some awareness of the suffering of others.” 

The colt’s first response was his ears drooping, followed by him recoiling in disgust. 

“Suit yourself, Nuance.” She held out her hoof and made a dismissive wave in her son’s direction. “I think I could use another cup of tea. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go help myself. Stressful times, these, and I need a spot of tea now and again to get me through the day.” 

With that, the big mare’s horn flashed and left Sundance blinded. 



 

“Where is Sumac?” Sundance asked while Silver Lining steaded him on his hooves and kept him upright. He wobbled around, but somehow managed to stay upright even though he couldn’t feel anything past his knees. 

“Tending to Cucumber. Washing him, brushing him, making him look his very best. Mortician stuff.” 

Sighing, Sundance stared down at the floor and tried to make sense of his emotions. His mind, still addled by the ether, wasn’t very cooperative about sorting everything out. Princess Celestia’s caffeine-fueled cheerfulness had left him unsettled. She was gone, at the moment; the big mare had stepped outside after guzzling her tea. Nuance was still present, but the colt hadn’t said much at all. 

Overwhelmed by everything, he asked, “How did you get here?” 

“Oh, Sumac sent a message saying he needed me, and I came. I wish Pebble was here, but she’s in Canterlot, throwing her weight around and trying to make things happen. Steady there, Sundance.” Holding up her talons, Silver Lining nudged Sundance just enough to keep him upright. “There’s a lot to do before the sundown. That’s when Cucumber will be buried. So come on, snap out of it if you can. Let’s see those legs move. Your ponies need you right now. They’re hurt… grieving… quite shaken. So it is very important to get you back to being your usual self. They’ve lost their caretaker, and they’re bound to turn to you for comfort.” 

“She’s right, you know.” Nuance shuffled closer, his hooves clicking on the wooden floorboards. He started to say something else—but didn’t. 

“They’re terrified that you’re going to die,” Silver Lining remarked. “No amount of reassurance will persuade them that you’re okay. So we need to have you up and moving. For them.” 

“Yeah,” Nuance added. 

For reasons unknown, Sundance was offended by this very notion. It was time to present himself to his peasants and tell them he was okay. With a drunken wobble, he lurched forward, and would have tumbled to the floor if it had not been for the combined efforts of Nuance and Silver Lining holding him upright. This gave him pause and he wondered what the ether had done to him. What would his mother say about all of this? 

“I don’t die.” He snorted, still offended by the very idea. “I don’t crash, either. But I do have some exciting landings.” He couldn’t recognise the sound of his own voice, and he spoke as though he was three sheets to the wind. “Eks-shite-ing” he had said, and he had to contain himself so he wouldn’t giggle. 

His mother would not approve of his current state of being. 

“Oh, Sumac crashes. Why, he trips and stumbles just getting into bed.” Silver Lining rolled her eyes, sighed, and sidestepped closer to Sundance. “I don’t think he sees half as well as he says he does.” 

“You sound drunk.” Nuance, wary, relaxed his magic, and when he seemed certain that everything was okay, he let go. “Perhaps it might be best if you didn’t say anything during the funeral. Blueblood, my master, he told me that sometimes, nobles should be seen, but not heard.” 

“Heard, but not seen. Got it.” Though he had said the words, Sundance almost couldn’t make out the incomprehensible garble coming out of his mouth. “Invisibubbles.” 

On Nuance’s face, concern caused his cheeks to tighten, and one eyebrow raised in the exact same manner as his mother. His piercing gaze intensified and Nuance the Foal vanished, only to be replaced by Nuance, Son of his Dam, Celestia. A sound came from deep within his throat, a sort of groaning wicker, and the small, slight colt stomped one hoof against the floorboards. 

“We still have some time,” the colt said, now a tiny version of his mother. “As Mom likes to say, ‘Integrity, ingenuity, and a cup of tea will salvage any situation.’ Guards, prepare some tea and pour it down this pony’s gullet. We can’t have him making a fool of himself at the funeral, or worse, disrupting the proceedings. Sort him out.” 

There was a clank of armor as the guard rushed to do Nuance’s bidding.
> When shadows grow long
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here, Nuance, take this and get to brushing. Watch out for the bandages. Be careful.” 

“I don’t know if I can—” 

“Yes you can. You just held him up a bit ago.” 

“But I was scared. I’m very emotional right now.” 

“I know, Nuance. It’s okay. Try to take all of that worry and turn it into something useful. Sundance is your friend. He’s having a hard time right now. Now do what you can, Nuance. Be the friend he can count on.” 

“But nopony counts on me—” 

“Well, now is a good time to start.” Silver Lining tilted her head and turned one eye down towards the small colt looking up at her. “Nuance… your brother isn’t here to put you down, or bad mouth you, or to explain at length what a failure you are. Corbie isn’t here to cheer you on and make you nervous. You don’t have to be afraid of disappointing her—” 

“I’m not afraid of disappointing her,” Nuance blurted out while his ears pricked. “I don’t care about what she thinks. Not at all.” 

“Sure… whatever, Nuance. Now, get to brushing. You just took command a little while ago. Why can’t you just be that pony all of the time?” 

Sundance, who had remained silent, continued to do so. He saw no need to say anything, to interject anything into this conversation. His ears rang with an annoying, ceaseless chime. Feeling had returned to his legs, and he wished it hadn’t because there were four giant hearts in his hooves. Walking felt almost impossible, with the squishy, thumping hearts making his frogs tender. His back was still on fire and what he wanted right now was to be submerged in some cool water. 

“When I feel pressured, I just fail.” Nuance’s naked, vulnerable honesty roused Sundance from his torpor. “I just don’t deal with it. Quiet and Corbie… they just never stop. They just praise me… even if I haven’t done anything. I get so nervous. When I’m nervous, I just fall apart.” 

“Well, no pressure here. Just do your own thing.” Holding the brush in her talons, Silver Lining held it out to Nuance, who stared up at it with wide, fearful eyes. “Come on, Nuance. Have I ever led you astray? I’m like, your favourite foalsitter.” 

Bashful, the colt squirmed and looked down at the ground. “You are. But that’s only because you never expect anything from me. I don’t have to do anything.” 

Perhaps it was the ether, but Sundance said something that he’d never say aloud under normal circumstances. It just came out, exactly what was on his mind, and had he presence of mind to react to himself, he might have felt betrayed by his mouth’s traitorous actions. 

“I live in fear of disappointing my mother,” he confessed. It sounded as though he had said, “I leave in far of dish-appointing my mother.” Blinking, Sundance tried to make sense of what had just come out of his mouth, but his treacherous pie hole wasn’t done with him yet. “It’s gotta be bad for you, Nuance, because your mommy is Celestia. That’s rough. I mean, my mom, she’s just a pegasus and I live with all kinds of anxiety. Just the thought of letting her down gives me fits. Fits, I tell you. Yeah. Fits. The fear of what she might do or could do is worse than anything she actually does. I can’t feel my tongue or my lips right now.” 

Nuance’s expression was nuanced; as such, it was utterly unreadable. 

The silence that followed was given little time to gestate into anything meaningful, as Silver Lining also bared her heart. “I feel the same way about my father. He’s rough, and he’s gruff, but my imagination of him is worse than anything he’s ever done. I live each moment of my life as if he’s watching me… and for all I know, he just might be. So I’m mindful of everything I do, everything I say, and of my every action. I don’t know if it has made me a better griffon, but I think it has.” 

Nuance, who took the brush into his telekinetic grasp, held it mere inches in front of his snoot and stared at it, almost cross-eyed. For a moment, it seemed as though he might say something, but mere seconds after his mouth opened, it closed and his lips pressed tight against one another. His tiny, thin chin jutted out, his slender neck bent, and his small hooves clicked against one another as he shuffled about. 

“My father, Wormwood, he’s no princess, no alicorn, but he is a Warden. He’s scary, he’s terrifying, and he loves me to pieces. The very idea of letting him down gives me panic attacks. So I have some idea how rough it must be to have Celestia as your mother, Nuance. That’s why I try to cut you some slack and just let you do your own thing when I foalsit. I understand the pressure.” Silver Lining reached up and smoothed back the feathers on her head, which were mussed and dishevelled. 

“There’s a lot of pressure,” the small colt admitted, with his eyes affixed on the brush. “Along with everything else my mind does to me, I spend my waking hours thinking about all of the ways I let my parents down. No matter what I do, I can’t stop. I get so upset that it messes up my stomach and I can’t eat and then because I’m hungry, I can’t think or get stuff done. It’s like… I fall down a hole. That’s why I like getting away from my parents… and my family. It’s like, the pressure goes away, and I can think again. Sort of. Sometimes. Not always.” 

“We hold ourselves to impossibly high standards to please our parents.” Now, Silver Lining too, stared down at the floor. 

“I mostly do it to impress Quiet. She… well… I want her to like me. I need her to like me.” After closing his eyes, Nuance coughed and his shuffling turned into full-blown fidgeting. “She’s being raised to rule. That’s why I have to get my act together and do right. I want to be there with her, when she’s ruling. But to do that, I have to do all of these things… and there is so much pressure.” The colt sighed, shook his head, and throughout his dialogue, his grip on the brush never faltered. 

Something within Sundance’s mind bubbled and little thoughtlets rose to the thin surface film of his consciousness. He did not have a Quiet—a companion that inspired him to achieve greatness. It was difficult to think about any one thing for very long in his current state, but this stuck around. It was, after all, a necessity. He had to hurry up and establish himself a legacy. Nuance wasn’t even half of Sundance’s age, but the colt already had his eyes on a filly—a fact that brought Sundance’s own shortcomings to the forefront. 

Cucumber was gone, Sundance’s barony was retainerless, there was a tiny crystal tree that needed good deeds to be nourished, and the knowledge of everything that was required of him was a sledgehammer blow to his fugued mind. Nuance, for all of his faults, real, imagined, or otherwise, had his stuff together. He had a direction for his future. As for Sundance… his fount of wisdom and advice had just died. 

As his vision turned blurry, he wondered if it was the ether messing with him. 

No amount of effort, no strain nor exertion held the tears back. They came as a flood, a torrent, a terrible beast of white water that turned to a deluge in the canyons of his mind. He had no idea what he was doing, and he attributed most of what success he had to Cucumber. What would he do now? His compass was gone, leaving him directionless. 

No, worse than that, his friend was gone. 

“No, no, no!” Nuance’s voice was almost a whine. “We just got the tea into you to sort you out!” The colt wickered, whinnied, his face darkened, and then, he too began crying. 

There was a clatter as the brush fell to the floor. 

“Of course, the foalsitter is left to clean everything up.” Silver Lining sighed the words as she plucked the brush up from the floor. “Okay, fine. Get it out of your systems and then I’ll wash your faces and brush you both. Go on, do as I say… have a good cry together. Just get it all out before the funeral, I guess. Guards, if you don’t mind… please, give us some privacy.” 

After a brief exchange between themselves, the two guards near the door stepped outside, leaving Silver Lining to salvage the situation. 



 

The shadows had grown long, like insubstantial, nebulous fingers stretching over the barony. Of the owlbear, the creature that had sown so much chaos and misery, there was no sign, not one feather nor hair. Even the cottage that had collapsed—Cucumber’s cottage, by sheer happenstance—had been restored. Magic was a wondrous, marvellous thing, and Sundance, addled though he was, wondered how they would all live without Cucumber. 

A grave had been dug; not in the cemetery, as expected. Rather, there was a deep hole in the earth near the crystalline tree. Cucumber would be buried where the tree had rooted, a position of honour that his fallen retainer deserved—no matter what black deeds had been done. Already, there were stakes in the ground around the tree, markers for a fence yet to be built. 

Princess Celestia stood near the tree and it appeared as though she basked in some unseen light. There was magic here, strange, unknown magic, and Sundance could feel it in his bones, in his marrow, he could feel it permeating through every cell of his being. Standing near the tree eased his pain, cleared his mind, and gave some clarity to his many thoughts. 

Others too, remained near the tree. Some wept, some were quiet, thoughtful, and contemplative. Sauerkraut Pie and Potato consoled one another, clinging to each other while sharing muffled words of reassurance. Of Earwig and Earwax, there was no sign of them, and Sundance figured that they were with Hollyhock, who was lost in the throes of labour. 

Though fearful for reasons unknown about breaking Princess Celestia’s concentration, Sundance approached with the intention of speaking to her. He was flanked by Nuance and Silver Lining, who were now something more than friends to him, but what, exactly, could not be said. But before he could say anything, Celestia, the mother, not the princess, took notice of her son. 

“Nuance… you’ve been crying.” 

Before the colt could protest, he was snatched and lifted into the air. Celestia pulled him close, and in full view of everypony present, began rubbing her cheek against his face and neck. He resisted, but only for a short time, and with a sigh, Nuance allowed his mother to comfort him. With his eyes closed, he even went as far as to wrap his stubby legs part-way around his mother’s graceful, swanlike neck, and he clung to her, his breathing heavy, his slight body shuddering. 

Sundance had clung to his own mother in much the same way, but that was so long ago. 

Too long, perhaps. He missed her now, at this moment, and he was almost certain that if she were present, he would cling to her in much the same way Nuance held on to his mother. Celestia was mom-sized to most ponies and in his current, somewhat addled state, Sundance felt foal-sized standing near her. Here she was, offering her unabashed affection in full view of all present—a sight that Sundance was sure that most ponies never got a chance to see. 

“Little Nuance… with your tender heart, you are so unlike your brother. I have such high hopes for you. There, there, little one.” Swaying, the big mare continued to rub her cheek against her son, and she hummed a soothing murmur into his ear. 

Emotional, Sundance’s knees wobbled and threatened to betray him, but Silver Lining kept him upright. He leaned into her; she was big, solid, and sturdy, so his weight did not budge her, not even in the slightest. She was also soft, warm, and there was something about her that brought him some much-needed comfort. 

“My husband was a mama’s colt,” Silver Lining whispered to Sundance. “In general, he avoided his mothers, until he was hurt, or upset, or needed them, and then he was clingy. Maybe I shouldn’t call him clingy. I was clingy.” The chubby griffoness sighed, causing Sundance to rise and fall against her. “I guess my point is, if I was trying to make one, is that the tender, emotional types tend to be mama’s colts.” 

Sundance thought about saying something, but didn’t. 

“Come to think of it, my husband is still a mama’s colt…”
> The sunset hour
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This couldn’t be happening. Cucumber was gone. Sundance couldn’t tell if it was the ether or his grief that made him feel the way he did, but he was overwhelmed. A while ago, he had been angry. Now, he was sad—no, beyond sad; he didn’t have words to describe it. His trusted retainer now lay on the ground, on a blanket, and Cucumber looked the best that Sundance had ever seen him. Why, he almost looked young. 

There was no trace of blood, no evidence of the violence that had killed him. 

Others approached to pay their respects, and Sundance stood still, almost rigid. The others… did any of them know what Cucumber had done? Should he tell them? Cucumber had saved them. It was because of Cucumber that they had a future. Because of Cucumber, the barony still existed and they had been spared a terrible fate. But even with these bright motes of hope, of goodness, Sundance could not help but wonder… 

Was Cucumber a good pony? 

Had he done the right thing by forgiving him? 

A crime had been committed. 

Premeditated murder, by the sounds of it. 

How could he reconcile with what Cucumber had done? 

As was often the case during times of trouble, Sundance wished for his mother, but even this felt weird and wrong, as he was certain that his mother would tell him things he didn’t want to hear. His mother was a stickler, she was rigid, with a black and white sense of right and wrong, good and evil. But, there was forgiveness… 

And quiet mercy. 

Shaking his head, Sundance almost wobbled. He didn’t know what to make of quiet mercy now, after the fact, after the revelation. It was one thing to forgive minor transgressions—but this, this went beyond the pale. Beyond his comprehension. And the more he thought about it, the more it tore him apart. Along with his grief, it was too much to bear, but he didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. Now, more than ever, his peasants needed him. They were stricken, heartbroken, they were feeling all of the same feelings that he was experiencing, and he had to be there for them. 

Princess Celestia’s mood had shifted. Before, she had been chatty, bubbly, of good cheer. But now, she was subdued. Forlorn. It was as if a shadow had passed over her, and Sundance had the distinct feeling that she did not shine as brightly as she once did. He could see something in her eyes, but he didn’t know what it was. Being the sort of pony he was, the sensible, good sort who loved his family, he wished that he could share and understand her pain. 

Nuance was draped over his mother’s back, his eyes closed, and the poor colt appeared exhausted. Was he napping? He might just be. Sundance—as a colt—had spent a remarkable amount of time sitting on both his father’s and mother’s backs. In the crazy bustle of the city, it felt like such a safe place. No danger of being kicked, or stepped on, or getting swept away in the crowd. 

At the moment, Sundance longed for a return to those carefree days. 

More guards had arrived, a whole gaggle of guards. They brought banners, battle standards, and even a small, ornamental brass cannon that glinted in the sun’s last rays of light. A lot of the guard were older—no, not just older, elderly, and had no magic that made them uniform. Sundance had the distinct impression that they were here to honour one of their own, yet none of these guards were quite as old as Cucumber, so he wasn’t quite sure of their purpose. 

“Does anypony have anything they’d like to say? Some meaningful final words?” Sumac stood, his face pointed towards the west, and what was soon to be the sunset could be seen reflected in his green-glass spectacles. 

“Cucumber was the best of us,” said Fallow Fields. “He was always there to do his duty, no matter what. Rain, shine, snow, even when he was sick. He never shirked a day’s work in his life. I can’t even recall him taking a day off. Cucumber kept the fires lit and the lights on.” 

“Well said, Fallow.” Bernin Streusel started to say something else, his mouth opened wide, but then the overwhelming sadness could be seen in his eyes. Again he tried, and again he was too overcome by grief to speak. 

“Anypony else?” Sumac, expectant, glanced around, and as the moments stretched into seconds, and the seconds stretched into minutes, it became obvious that grief had silenced those gathered. 

Sundance too. 

Then, without warning, Princess Celestia spoke. Her voice was like the rising dawn, glorious, profound, and its warmth pierced through the chill of grief. The words she said fairly echoed through the box canyon, as if even nature itself was made to bear witness to what she had to say. 

“Cucumber’s life was one of refusal.” She paused for a moment to allow these words to sink in. “When he was but a small colt, I saw promise in him, and I tried to lure him away to Canterlot. I wanted him in my guard. I saw a pony that I could trust, and in those troubled times, trust was in short supply.” The big mare bent her proud neck, and tilting her head, she looked down at Cucumber’s unmoving body. 

“He told me no. Not many ponies are brave enough to tell me no. It isn’t something that I hear often. His steadfastness impressed me.” The marble mask broke and Princess Celestia’s emotions could be seen by all. “The war broke out. There was a terminal failure in diplomacy and tact. Equestria collapsed in upon itself and the Separatists sought a return to the old ways, a restoration of the old order. Many unicorns within this very barony went to join them… but not Cucumber. He refused them, just as he had refused me. When asked why, he spoke of duty.” 

The alabaster alicorn’s eyes turned glassy. 

“From what I understand, Cucumber had family members who joined the Separatists, and he defended the barony against their advances. They knew the land, they knew the defenses, they knew the plans. The battle was fierce, perhaps the very worst battle in the whole war. Steam-powered tanks rolled through seas of grain. What was once green, lush, and beautiful, became desolate, burned out, and barren. Cucumber was among those who refused to surrender, and made their final stand here, on this very spot, in this very canyon. When all else was gone, when there was no hope left to be had, when facing impossible odds… Cucumber refused to die and give ground to the Separatists.” 

Blinking, squinting into the last rays of the sun, Sundance looked around the canyon. Perhaps it was a trick of the ears, but he could almost hear the sounds of battle. Shouts, explosions, the roaring crackle of flames. Echoing screams existed just beyond the range of his hearing, and he strained to listen to sounds that he couldn’t be sure if they were there. 

“After the restoration of peace, I tried again to lure Cucumber away. I offered him an officer’s position, wealth, I even tried to entice him with peerage, but he refused me. Why, he even grew annoyed with me, and made it a point to vanish when I came to visit during the reconstruction. His refusal became a sore point with me, because I saw so much potential. So much greatness. But Cucumber had no great ambitions, and I was left wanting.” 

Pausing, the alicorn mare drew breath. 

“Not long ago, I offered Cucumber stewardship of this barony. Cucumber refused me. He told me that he didn’t deserve the position, and asked me to find somepony worthy. When I asked him to reconsider, he told me that it was a bit too awkward for him, a unicorn, to be ruling over earth ponies. I asked him again, several times more, in fact, and he refused me each time, telling me he wasn’t worthy of stewardship. His life was one of refusal…” Her words trailed off, almost as if she had more to say. 

Sundance noticed that she was looking right at him and he wondered what she knew. 

When Princess Celestia and Lord Sumac exchanged a glance with one another, Sundance suspected that the big mare—his grandmother—knew. How could she not know? Surely, her sister, Princess Luna, peeped into Cucumber’s dreams and was aware of his guilty conscience. She had to know even when she offered him the position of stewardship. Why hadn’t she done something? What was the purpose in waiting? Was there anything to be accomplished by overlooking this black deed? 

A wailing scream caused every ear to prick and the haunting sound bounced from canyon wall to canyon wall. Sundance—impaired as he was—somehow managed to almost jump right out of his skin. Again, another scream was heard, and this one was in every way worse than the one previous. Life was hard here; it started hard, and it ended hard, with nothing but hard work in the middle. 

“I’m needed,” Sumac said, and his words chilled Sundance right down to his marrow. 



 

The old guard—the elderly Royal Guard—stood gathered around the cannon. They were a solemn bunch, these old salts, and their grizzled, scarred appearances made them seem more so. Their armor still fit, was well-polished, and showed signs of exceptional care. One of them, his armor was different than the others, and though it took Sundance a bit of time due to his condition, he recognised it for what it was. 

One of them was an Immortal Solar. He was old, but not ancient, not like Cucumber was. One eye was missing, and from the looks of things, one ear as well. His mouth was pulled down into a perpetual scowl, and his muzzle was crisscrossed with withering scars. With a grunt of effort, the Immortal Solar began to load the cannon, and did so with a practiced ease that was awe-inspiring to watch. 

“General Upsilon…” 

The old soldier paused, grunted, and turned to face Princess Celestia. “Yes, Marm?” 

Holding out her wing, the princess lifted her head and adopted a commanding posture. “I do believe that Cucumber was deserving of a little extra powder. Send him out with a bang, will you?” 

“Of course, Marm. As you say, Marm. My life for you, Marm.” Bowing his head, the old unicorn went to work, obeying Princess Celestia’s order. 

With a yawn, Nuance roused himself and then pushed himself up into a sitting position upon his mother’s back. He yawned a second time, blinked for a while, and then, half-awake, he raised his foreleg over his eyes in a clumsy, but sincere salute. There was a warm earnestness to his actions that was easy to see, even in Sundance’s still-addled state. 

“Nuance, would you give the command?” Princess Celestia asked of her son. 

Another yawn escaped Nuance, and then the colt sat up straight. He lowered his foreleg, waited, and when the cannon was finished loading, he shouted, “Fire!” 

There was a deafening report from the small, ornamental brass cannon that caused a great many owls to take wing in panic, along with many other birds. Sundance’s ears rang from the blast, and he could feel a thudding in his temples. Without a second wasted, General Upsilon was already reloading the cannon for the next fire. 

Nuance was awake now, and from the looks of things, so was everypony else. The owls were screaming bloody murder, and there was much flapping to be heard from all directions. When the cannon was reloaded, it was fired again. The world around Sundance turned into a deafening cacophony the likes of which he had never heard. 

It was impossible to think, or feel, or to contemplate his grief, or to do much of anything. The second shot worked the owls up into a frenzy and their incessant hooting and shrieking utterly demolished the solemn silence. Princess Celestia stood in a regal pose, her face angled skyward towards the setting sun, and the cannon was fired for a third time. 



 

After the twenty-first cannon blast, Sundance was almost deaf. A strange exhaustion had settled over him after having his muscles tense twenty-one times. With Sumac gone, it was Princess Celestia who wrapped Cucumber in his blanket, lifted him, and then laid him to rest in the grave dug near the crystalline tree. 

With Cucumber in the ground, Sundance didn’t know what, or how, to feel. Mindful of his wobbly, treacherous legs, he approached the grave, and Silver Lining moved with him. Looking down, he saw the dark green woollen blanket that now served as Cucumber’s burial shroud. A little dirt had fallen down and could now be seen scattered over the blanket. 

He wanted to say something, but words failed him. Perhaps silence was best. Even a simple ‘goodbye’ seemed like too much to say. Beside him, Silver Lining draped her wing over him with great care, and pulled him close. He managed to contain himself for a time, but the grief proved to be too much and his tears could not be held back. 

To the west, the sun slipped down below the base of the Canterhorn…
> The Light departs
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With Cucumber in the ground, Sundance felt a powerful need to look after the living. He allowed Silver Lining to guide him as he stumbled along so that he could see what was up with Hollyhock. Terror, or maybe the after-effects of the ether chilled his blood and made him shiver. Sumac had said he was needed. These words haunted Sundance’s ears, and he feared this day would grow blacker, swallowing the last vestiges of the light. 

Hollyhock was foaling out-of-doors, which seemed odd, but what did he know about foaling? As he approached, he could see that Corduroy’s arm’s were stained with blood, buckets of blood, far too much blood. The very sight of it caused his stomach to rise up and go flopping around in the back of his throat. As for Hollyhock, she was laying in the grass, partially covered with a blanket—but she was moving. 

Almost falling onto his face, Sundance feared the worst. 

Silver Lining set him straight, shoving him back upright just as Sumac turned around to face them. The pale alicorn was also spattered in blood, but he was smiling, which confused Sundance to no end. Unable to bear the tension a moment longer, he came to an abrupt, sudden halt that almost made him pitch forward. 

“On this day, trouble was born,” Corduroy said to Sundance, her voice weary and dry. “The little blighter was shy and didn’t want to come out. She unfurled her wings in utero and caused us all kinds of grief. I had to reach in there and pull her out. And then she came out backward and scared all of us. I’d keep an eye on this filly, if I were you.” 

“But… but you said you were needed and I—” 

“Oh!” Sumac, embarrassed, held out a wing, his primaries extended. “You thought…” 

Sundance nodded. 

“I do that to everypony at some point. Pebble hates me when I do. I’m sorry.” 

While rolling her eyes at her husband, Silver Lining approached Hollyhock, who lay in the grass. The portly griffoness drew close, sat down, and adopted what could only be described as a defensive, protective posture, something shared by both griffons and pegasus ponies. Wings out, chest forward, eyes narrowed, and every muscle ready for action. 

“Foal?” By chance, Sundance’s eyes collided with Amber Dawn’s, and he was perplexed by the way she was looking at him. “I wanna see. I need to see. I need to know if everything is okay.” 

“Let him look,” Hollyhock replied. 

Hunkering down, Corduroy lifted up the corner of the blanket, and there was a faint squeak as it was pulled away. Sundance, fretful, leaned forwards, looked down, and saw something the colour of sunshine. Something as yellow as butter. It wiggled in the grass—she wiggled in the grass—and hope, like a falling anvil, struck Sundance. His hindlegs buckled suddenly and he sat down hard enough to make his butt-bones ache. The little filly was suckling while also trying to wiggle closer to her mother, no doubt because of the sudden chill caused by the blanket being lifted. 

“You… you have a very important birthday,” he said to the filly. Some of the feeling had returned to his lips now and his words were somewhat clearer. “Ponies might be sad on your birthday. When you’re older, I’ll tell you why. But for now, happy birthday. Welcome to Rotten Egglünd.” 

Corduroy put the blanket back, patted Hollyhock once, and then turned her full attention on Sundance. “I think I did a pretty good job of patching you up. Mister Teapot’s Body Spackle filled in the holes nicely. That stuff burns real bad, but it encourages rapid cell growth. You’ll be fatigued for the next few days as your body goes through a month’s worth of healing in a week.” 

“Without Mister Teapot’s Body Spackle, I’d be a mess on the ground,” Sumac remarked while he looked skyward. “It stings something awful though when it’s being slathered into the wound. It’ll even help regrow bones at a rapid rate—that is if you can stand having body spackle applied directly to the bone.” 

“The owlbear left grooves in your ribs.” Corduroy stood up, flexed her legs, and with her left paw, she rubbed her right elbow. “It was worse than I thought. But the spackle should fix everything right up.” 

“Good. Everything is good here.” Sundance didn’t want to talk about or think about the owlbear scraping his ribs. Shivering, he bit his lip until the rush of pain evicted the cobwebs from his brain. “With everything good, I gotta go talk to Grandmother before she goes. There is still work to be done. Good. Everything is good. Would somepony please help me stand up? My front half isn’t talking to my back half at the moment. Thanks.” 



 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Grandson, why are you sorry?” 

Celestia faced the east, where the gathering darkness shrouded the jagged peaks of the mountains that stretched as far as the eye could see. She had a faint glow about her, a soft, almost imperceptible light that kept the darkness at bay. Sundance, whose head had cleared considerably in the past half-an-hour or so, looked up at her and tried to read her face. 

“Today was your day with your son. It was spoiled. I’m sorry.” 

“None of this was your fault.” Celestia inhaled, held it for a time, and then said, “I dare say that Nuance had just the sort of day he needed. Today, he got to feel important. He got to feel in charge. Today, he was productive and exposed to life beyond the protective walls of the castle. These days are always the best for him.” 

This gave Sundance pause, but did not change his mind; he remained sorry and apologetic. Surely Celestia did not get many days with her foals and this was Nuance’s chance to have his mother all to himself—something that this day had taken from him. Turning away from Celestia, Sundance looked up and saw stars twinkling into existence overhead. 

“I need a retainer,” Sundance blurted out, and he cringed at how insensitive he sounded. Shying away from his grandmother, his gaze fell groundward as he tried again, this time with more tact. “Cucumber did… well, everything. He had magic. Corduroy could do a lot of what he did, but if she was busy retaining, she wouldn’t be nursing, and that’s a problem. Help me.” 

“I’m proud of you—” 

“Proud of me?” Sundance didn’t mean to interrupt, and feeling guilty for doing so, his ears drooped. “What for?” 

“For being practical. For picking up the pieces. For causing a little crystal tree to sprout. For surpassing my expectations. For giving me a bit of much-needed faith in my own bloodline, which has turned against me far too many times for me to count.” Closing her eyes, the big mare let heave a sigh that caused a noticeable gale and the grass before her rippled. Then, she opened her eyes, shook her head, and sighed a second time. 

“You’re flying into Canterlot while the smoke blows sideways again,” she continued. “This has been a terrible day for you and your barony. Yet, here you are, apologising to me while seeking my counsel and trying to forge ahead even with things as bleak as they are. It makes me feel better about things… about everything, really. The war is not going well. Things are not going well. Equestria sits in a precarious position, a precipice from which it could slip at any time. But watching you—and others—as you persevere through your struggles gives me the hope I need to continue. Without you—and others like you—I honestly don’t know how I would keep going. These are dark times, Grandson.” 

“I… I… I…”—he stammered, struggling to express his thoughts and feelings, but words failed him. He had not even considered that his own struggles gave Celestia the strength to face her own. When he closed his mouth, his teeth clicked together. He felt like a foal again, but not in a bad way, not in a demeaning, demoralising way. Staring down at the grass, he stepped closer to Celestia, overcome with a strange need to be near her. 

“There is a student in my school by the name of Paradox Sunflower.” She paused, thoughtful, or perhaps choosing her words with great care. “She has history with this land… a troubled history at that. Her parents are earth ponies that fled from this place and made it to Ponyville. Well… actually…” The big mare sighed and deflated, with everything about her drooping. “One of her parents might have remained here, in this place. There is a good chance that the previous lord was her father. It is a very delicate subject, Grandson.” 

Sundance listened in silence. 

“I asked Paradox to take ownership over the barony, and she refused. It’s understandable, really. She knows.” Celestia gulped a deep breath and shuddered. “She knows. Her parents have told her stories about this place. They told her why they fled just before she was born. She knows why her mother made such a dangerous journey, which ended with Paradox being born in Ponyville Hospital.” 

As the darkness gathered, Celestia’s inner illumination intensified. 

“Paradox knows what you’ve been up to. She’s hopeful. I am certain that if I ask her to come here, she will now. Maybe not as your retainer… she might need a better title to entice her, but I am positive that she can be enticed.” 

“Do you know?” Sundance asked, suspecting that Celestia knew. 

“Do I know what?” Celestia replied. 

Wondering how he got himself into these messes, Sundance tried to think of what to say. 

Angling his gaze upwards, he tried to read his grandmother’s face and found that he could not. She had to know. She had to know. To assume otherwise would be to insult her intelligence. How could she not know? It was her business to know. This was too relevant to her own interests, too close to her heart. This was a family matter—and so she had to know. 

“The faces you make,” she remarked while she looked down at the smaller pony standing beside her. “There is much I know. Perhaps too much. What I know paralyses me and fills me with indecision. I know for certain that your predecessor offered financial support to Mister Mariner. In fact, much of his so-called gambling debts were in fact, part of a rather big gamble. I know this, and didn’t do much about this, because after all of the unpleasantness that happened, I decided to leave the scabs alone so the wounds upon this nation could heal.” 

Sundance knew all about Mister Mariner and the unpleasantness, as it was a topic that his mother frequently ranted about. His mother was a devout Royalist and the very idea of somepony turning against the Sisters offended her to her very core. 

“I know that your predecessor was entirely within his rights to terminate the barony’s trust and sell the land. You have that right as well. You have the power to bring this legacy to an end, just as the one before you did. I know that my sister hounded him with terrible dreams, plagued him with nightmares, and did everything within her power to coax a confession out of him for his many, many misdeeds—and I know that he remained relentless. His heart grew bitter and more rotten with each passing day.” 

She shook her head, sorrowful. “I know I had misguided hopes that we could settle this in private, as family, and sort everything out, away from the public eye. I know I wanted the chance to forgive him… but alas, he would not give me that chance.” Her words turned sad and she gazed upwards at the stars. 

He wondered if she was thinking about her sister. 

“So, what is it specifically that you are asking me if I know?” 

She was looking down at him now, and he up at her. Nothing about her face was readable, though her voice was sorrowful, sad. Mouth dry, he swallowed, and he found himself thinking about how much smaller he was compared to her. She was enormous—larger than life—and he was an insignificant speck that had the gall to ask her if she knew. 

“Paradox is a pony in need of healing, and I am trusting you with her well-being, Grandson. She’s inherited the grievous wounds of her parents… of a deep and abiding love poisoned by one who did so simply to show that he could. As a manner of ownership. Paradox is a young mare who was swept away by the flood of her mother’s tears as a filly. You’ve done right by these ponies so far, and I am counting on you to do right by her.” 

He nodded, eager to please. 

“And if you don’t… I’ll know.” 

Again, Sundance gulped, but the sudden lump in his throat would not go down. 

“You’ll do the right thing, Sundance. Of that, I am confident. You could have flown away from trouble today, but you stuck around. It would have been easy to carry yourself away to safety. Your ponies told me what you did, and they did so in great detail. They might have even embellished the story just a bit… but I did find a splitting maul stuck into the back of the owlbear’s skull, which supports their outrageous tall-tales. It was jammed in there tight as can be. Tell me, Grandson, did you waylay the owlbear from behind? Are the stories true?” 

Silence was his ally, so he nodded. 

“The skull is probably the most well-defended place on an owlbear. Magically hard. Luna… she once headbutted one and gave herself quite a concussion. It was not a mistake that she made twice—at least, that I am aware of. Luna is slow to learn, though.” Celestia unfurled her wings, gave them a good stretch, and then began stretching out her legs one by one. 

“As the trust between us grows,” the big mare said while stretching, “I will reward you with more and more responsibility. Such is the way of things. If you raise your head, expect to be noticed. If you do well, expect to be tested. If you succeed, expect to be tried. The only reward you will ever know is tribulation. Understand this, Grandson, all of this rests on you. If you feel overwhelmed, keep your head down. Avoid drawing attention to yourself. Do what is necessary, but do nothing exceptional. I only ever test those who seek my approval.” 

Again, Sundance nodded. 

“We met when you raised your head and showed competence. That got you the barony. So far, you have done well. You have faced these tests and exceeded all expectations. What comes next is a trial, Grandson. Your mettle is my mettle, and I will burn away your dross if you dare to expose yourself to my light. Make friends, Grandson, there is no way that you can face what is coming alone.” 

With that, Celestia strode away, and Sundance did not follow.
> Ponderings of a patched-up pegasus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A vast multitude of owls bore witness to the grieving pegasus that sat near a small, glowing crystalline tree. While others worked—no doubt experiencing grief in their own way—the pegasus kept a sorrowful vigil over a grave topped with fresh-turned black earth. At his side sat a unicorn colt, who appeared to be quite grief stricken. While the pegasus stared at the tree, the unicorn colt was fixated on the grave. 

The silence was broken when the colt asked, “Why?” 

Sundance had no answer. He wanted to know why as well. His emotions had traversed a full range of feeling and he had reached a point of emptiness. Cucumber was gone and the barony didn’t feel quite the same. The ponies—his ponies—were all on edge. Fires were watched with far greater care. All the little tasks that Cucumber did were left undone. As for Lemongrass, the colt was beside himself and Sundance wished that he could make the colt feel better. 

Slowly, bit by bit, the emptiness was filled with anger, because Sundance had no answer. 

“He never got mad, ‘cause of how I am,” Lemongrass said while sniffling. 

“How you are?” Sundance allowed himself to be distracted. He welcomed it. Needed it. Anger felt too raw right now, it was too much to bear and he longed to be anything but angry. 

“I take my time.” There was a long pause as the colt took his time to choose his next words; each passing second was drawn out, stretched considerably. “Cucumber never got mad and hollered at me ‘cause I’m slow. He was nice. Told me to take all the time I needed.” 

“Yeah, Cucumber was a patient sort.” Sundance felt a powerful wave of grief wash over him, the first advance of a great flood. “I mean, he had to be. He was a pony of good temperment.” 

“What’s that?” the colt asked. 

“Temperament?” 

“Yeah.” 

Pursing his lips, Sundance thought about how best to answer before he said something stupid. “Temperament is… behaviour. Nature. How a pony is. I have a reckless temperament. You, you have a slow, cautious temperament. Cucumber… he was patient, I suppose. Steadfast. Loyal. He had himself a good disposition.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Disposition?” 

The colt nodded this time. 

“It’s like temperament. Characteristics. All of a pony’s traits as a whole.” 

“Why do we have so many words that all say the same thing?” Lemongrass, at long last, turned away from the mound of black earth and looked up at Sundance. “There’s too many words. We don’t need them.” 

“Different words help us say what we want to say though. Words with similar meanings can say completely different things.” Sundance too, turned away from the tree, and looked down at the colt looking up at him. 

“That sounds dumb. It don’t make no sense.” 

“It doesn’t?” 

In response, the colt shook his head from side to side and his ears splayed out sideways. Sundance tried to consider the colt’s point of view, but his words seemed sensible enough. Though, he did come to realise that he couldn’t possibly explain it in a better way, so perhaps there was something faulty with what he had said. Or not—he couldn’t tell. 

“I like to think about things before I do them,” the colt said, jarring Sundance from his thoughts. “Before I do something, I like to think about why I’m doing it. Mom gets mad though and she tells me to hurry up. Cucumber was fine with me thinking.” 

“Hey”—reaching out his foreleg, Sundance gingerly laid it over the colt’s withers, while wincing from the sudden electric pain in his back—“what the world needs is more ponies who think before they do something or say something, so you just keep thinking. That doesn’t make you slow, that makes you wise.” 

Something about the colt’s expression was both hopeful and doubtful. 

Hearing a sound, Lemongrass’ ears swiveled off to the left, followed by his head. Then, he said to Sundance, “Here comes Nurse Corduroy.” 

Wincing, Sundance knew that his nurse had come for him. 



 

The bandages being peeled away made an awful sound; it was moist. Sundance hissed when it was painful and kept his teeth bared during the whole process, just because. Corduroy had to look because there was spotting and this concerned her. He squirmed on the table but went still when his nurse growled at him. She growled at him! For a time, he considered turning his head around to have a look at himself, but he just couldn’t work up the courage. 

“Mmm, that didn’t hold,” Corduroy murmured and Sundance’s ears pivoted around to face almost backwards. “I don’t think it’s going to hold, either. Going to have to leave that spot open.” 

“Is it bad?” he asked, his sense of worry overcoming the feeling of fussiness that he had. 

“Not too bad.” Corduroy’s touch was gentle as she peeled away more spotted bandages. “Honestly, I am surprised that everything is holding together as well as it is. There’s just one spot, just ahead of your wing joints and just behind your withers that concerns me. It’s deep and the tearing was pretty bad. It left grooves in your ribs. You’re a lucky pony.” 

“How’s Hollyhock?” Unable to think about himself any longer, Sundance sought distraction. 

“She’s stitched up too.” Unseen, standing out of Sundance’s field of view, Corduroy frowned. “Pegasus ponies have the most difficult births. It’s the wings. Maternal mortality rates are the highest with mares who birth pegasus foals. Hollyhock will be fine, though. She’s an earth pony.” 

“Stitches?” Sundance cringed. “Did you cut her belly open, or something?” 

“No.” Corduroy peeled away more bandages and there was a moist slurping sound. “Perineotomy. I had to open her up so I could reach inside and pull the foal out.” 

“I don’t… I don’t know what that is, and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to know.” 

“Here’s what you need to know.” Corduroy’s voice was all business, stern, commanding, and not at all kind. “You need more of Mister Teapot’s Body Spackle. It has to go inside. Now, I’m not in the mood to be kicked in the eye again, and I don’t want to almost overdose you on ether. So here’s your options, Sundance. You’re going to lie here and take it. It is going to burn… ferociously. After the spackle is applied, I am going to have to stuff the area that fell open with gauze and that’s going to be mighty uncomfortable. What I need from you is for you to hold still. If you don’t, I have rope.” 

“Rope?” Immediately after saying the word, Sundance gulped. 

“Packing a wound is unpleasant, but necessary. Would you like something to bite down on?” Corduroy tossed scarlet-stained bandages into the fire and an unpleasant smoke wafted into the dining hall. 

“Just… get it done.” Grimacing, he braced himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant experience. 



 

Owlister explored the grass, his head bobbing and turning about. Sundance watched his companion owl in a sort of half-daze. Boredom had settled in and with boredom, grief. Unable to fly, grounded, Sundance was forced to face his loss. He desperately wanted to talk to somepony, but who? Cucumber was gone. The others did not seem keen on talking. His peasants had buried themselves into their work and his attempts to strike up a conversation had all failed miserably. Corduroy was now busy looking after Hollyhock, but Sundance wasn’t so sure he wanted to have a long talk with Corduroy. In speaking to her, he felt rather… dumb. 

A bit stupid. 

Nowhere to go. No way to leave. He wanted comfort food, but didn’t want to ravage the barony’s precious supplies, what few delectable treats they had. Some means of distraction was necessary, but there was none to be found. No escape. So Sundance was stuck staring at his owl while his mind sank deeper and deeper into a mire of grief. 

Even worse, he foalishly wanted his mother, and maybe his father too. Talking to his father was difficult, because his father was a quiet sort that just didn’t say much. Getting him to respond to anything was difficult on the best of days, and downright impossible on the worst. Quiet though he was, his dad was a good listener—Sundance just wished that his father said a bit more. 

A pegasus who could not fly was trapped. 

Potato dashed over and skidded to a halt beside Sundance. She had her head held high, her ears were pricked, and she had grass stains on her legs. With the peculiar mare this close, Sundance couldn’t help but notice that she smelled like the goats—but this wasn’t a bad thing. She kept the livestock safe, along with everypony else. 

“Invaders,” she said in her typical cryptic manner. “Beware of falling anchors.” 

Sundance’s right eyebrow rose as slowly and majestically as his grandmother’s sun. “Invaders? Anchors? Tell me, Potato, do we have visitors coming?” 

“We do,” she replied, her head bobbing up and down hard enough to make her curly mane bounce. “Gotta go. I have a sad goat. Sad goat needs Potato.” 

“Hey, I need Potato too.” Startled by his own outburst, Sundance felt hot embarrassment creeping along his already burning back. “Just somepony to talk with.” 

“Aw…” Potato paused as a kindly smile spread across her muzzle. Reaching out, she patted Sundance on the cheek. “Try talking to the goats. They’re great listeners, the goats.” 

Then, before Sundance could say anything else, the enigmatic mare pronked off. 



 

A familiar airship could be seen off to the west. Squinting, Sundance watched as it grew larger, and with each minute that passed, his impatience grew. Unable to fly, he was forced to wait on the ground, which was agonising. He paced along the runway and nursed his growing hatred of owlbears whilst he kept his eyes skyward. 

This was taking too long. 

Entire minutes had passed and the airship seemed no closer. 

Was this what it was like to be an earth pony? 

The thought struck him so hard that he went still. Having to wait and be patient. To hold still, to stay in one place and wait for things to happen around them. No flying off at a moment’s notice to have your way or to get something done. The earth ponies that left this place, they’d have to travel over a hundred miles in any direction to get somewhere, and in most directions, they’d still be in the middle of nowhere.

Meanwhile, he could fly to Canterlot in about an hour or two, depending on the conditions and if he was pulling a load. A pegasus could go anywhere, at any time, at the drop of a feather. It was something he had taken for granted, and now, in his grounded state, he truly appreciated his freedom—the freedom that he had been born with as a pegasus. 

With nothing left to do, Sundance practiced his snorting, a skill he felt everypony should have. One had to have a good snort, or face ridicule. It had to be dramatic, expressive. One had to build up enough pressure to have a great snort (preferably booger-free) and do so without a sudden explosive release of pressure out of the wrong end—a tricky task for a pegasus. Standing on the runway, Sundance snorted away his frustrations while waiting for the airship to arrive. 



 

The anchor hit the soft earth with a thud. Sundance eyeballed it, wary, thinking of what Potato had said a while ago, back when the airship was a speck of sand lost in a sea of sky. Magic made the anchor glow and then, in ways that were entirely unlike a gopher, the anchor sank beneath the ground and burrowed into the stony earth. 

Magic was weird. 

“Ahoy, Baron!” Turmeric called down. “We heard about what happened. All of Canterlot is talking about it. You’ve made the bottommost position on the leaderboard—” 

“I did what?” Sundance stood agape from the unexpected news. 

“Your name is on the leaderboard,” said Rustic as the airship descended. “The Observers announced that your efforts should be recognised, as to inspire others. So where’s this crystal tree I keep hearing about? Is it tacky?” 

“You came—” 

“Lewd!” Turmeric made a dismissive wave with his hoof. “We’ve done no such thing, not yet anyhow. Maybe after we eat.” 

“Eat?” Sundance, overwhelmed, baffled, and in pain, just could not keep up with everything taking place. 

“We brought food.” Rustic’s head tilted to one side and his eyes glinted fabulously in the sun. “Isn’t that what you do when somepony dies? You show up with food? I’m not good with social rituals, but this seems to be the thing that decent ponies do.” 

“Food…” Sundance’s second monosyllabic utterance caused both of his guests to look at him with worried expressions. 

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, Sundance.” Suddenly, Turmeric was on the ground, walking in a circle around the baffled pegasus with a somewhat snotty nose. “We’ve brought food, we’re going to serve it, and Rustic and I, we’re going to look after things today so you can rest.” Then, shaking his head from side to side, he began to cluck his tongue while his eyes lingered on Sundance’s bandages. 

Turmeric moved in for a hug, but paused, doing nothing to hide his naked, unabashed concern. When it seemed as though there was nothing he could do, he fell back on the old standby of yammering away. “I brought you some stuff to read while you heal up. There’s a really fantastic graphic novel—” 

“A comic book,” Rustic said, loud enough to be heard from where he still stood on the airship. 

“No, a graphic novel.” Turmeric let out an annoyed hiss and cast his companion, Rustic, a scathing glance. “Really, it’s not a comic book. Much higher quality. Better paper stock. It tells quite a story. It’s called, The Pred-Dater and it is about a sub-pony’s forays into the seedy underworld of pred-culture and then he, well, he meets with—um, nope. I shouldn’t spoil it for you. Are you okay, Sundance? You seem especially vacant. Is it the pain? Did you hit your head? Did you need somepony to cuddle with you and feed you soft, creamy custard?” 

From up on deck, Rustic snorted, a truly magnificent, snot-free effort. 

“Where’s Hennessy?” Sundance somehow managed to ask, overcoming his overwhelmedness. 

“The Sewer-Chewer is away on business. Top-secret stuff. He couldn’t tell us where he was going, but he’s not in Canterlot at the moment.” Turmeric made a worried sound in the back of his throat and crept just a little bit closer to Sundance. “I do suspect that both he and Flicker work with a number of secret agencies—I’m just not sure which ones. Sometimes, I wonder if he and Flicker are hiding the fact that aliens exist—” 

“Oh, here we go,” Rustic muttered as the airship touched down. 

“They exist, I tell you!” 

“In movies,” was Rustic’s calm, reasonable reply. 

“What about Princess Twilight Sparkle’s adventures through the looking glass?” 

Rustic paused and went duck-lipped for a moment. His tailed flicked, his eyes rolled, and then he offered up a vigorous shake of his head. “I don’t believe that. A fantastical tale of unseen, unknowable, unprovable things just beyond a mirror. A society of… what is it? Simian-based lifeforms? That’s disgusting. Do you know what monkeys do? They fling feces, that’s what they do. There’s no way in Tartarus they could be a reasonable, intelligent society. Why, the very idea of cultured monkeys, reading and drinking tea… preposterous!” 

“Well,” Turmeric began, “when you put it that way, it does seem a little far fetched.”
> No, not a sheep dog, a ship dog
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rustic and Turmeric kept their word. The both of them—being unicorns—made short work of unloading the food they brought. There were other things as well, mysterious wooden crates whose contents were unknown, but had Princess Celestia’s royal seal burned into the wood. Sundance suspected that something was up, but didn’t have a chance to say anything because Rustic and Turmeric were busy. So very busy. 

“Those ponies are fabulous.” 

The sudden, unexpected sound of Corduroy’s voice almost caused Sundance to jump out of his skin. When he turned his head to look up at her, his heart was racing while his ears rang. Unsure of her intent, he asked, “Is that a problem?” 

“No, not at all. To each his own. But they make a cute couple. All that witty bickering.” 

Relieved, Sundance grinned. “I’m not sure they’re a couple. They’re partners. I know that. Turmeric works for Rustic.” 

“But… they’re cute together. They should hook up, if they haven’t.” 

This was a side of his nurse that he did not expect. 

“When I was a puppy, I liked to make my dolls kiss. When you’re as big as I am, everybody is doll-sized. Even you, Sundance. There is something deeply satisfying about observing others as they engage in ritualistic displays of mutual affection.” 

Reaching out with her paw, she tousled Sundance’s mane and then stroked his ears. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this affection, but after a quick bit of soul-searching, he found that he didn’t mind. It didn’t feel demeaning, or degrading. Sundance hadn’t experienced much in the way of inter-species interactions, so he wasn’t sure what to expect or what the boundaries were. He barely understood pony interactions—and came to a conclusion. He was fearful, hesitant of new experiences, and interacting with non-equines was fraught with testing new boundaries, which was, in his own estimation, quite uncomfortable. 

In that moment, he knew he needed to change his thinking somehow. These interactions, he had to see them as new horizons, and a pegasus pony was always happy to see a new, unknown horizon. Yet, even as he tried to make himself think and feel this way, the fearful hesitation lingered, that anxiety of the unknown, that anxiousness and stress when he didn’t know to respond or react. 

But this was something he would sort out for his own good. 



 

The day-old filly wore a rather cross expression and Sundance sympathised with her. It was noisy, with everypony talking and eating. She had no name, not yet. The entire barony doted on her, giving her all of the affection that they had. Sundance worried that with all of these grandparents, this filly would grow up spoiled. She lay on her blanket beside him, kicking and wiggling her legs around while making a valiant effort to try and roll over onto her belly. 

But her stubby wings were in the way. 

A yard away, Amber Dawn was gabbing away with Turmeric. Sundance worried about this, because he saw the unpleasant expression on Hollyhock’s face. Nothing had been said, but nothing needed to be said, because Amber Dawn’s mother had made her feelings quite clear without words. Sundance didn’t feel this was very fair; Hollyhock had exposed her daughter to some truly awful stallions, the very worst sorts, some of which had been downright abusive. Yet Hollyhock was clearly unhappy about her daughter chattering at Turmeric, and Sundance was almost certain as to the reason why. 

It bothered him in a way that couldn’t be put into words. 

He looked down at the pegasus filly who had been put down beside him so he could get to know her. She was still struggling to roll her chubby body over, and her wings were still thwarting her efforts to do so. It amazed him how active she was, just how much energy she seemed to have at the moment. Some of the peasants had quietly whispered to him that it was his duty to name her, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“You should be eating, Milord,” Earwig said. 

“Yeah,” said Earwax, her head bobbing. Her lips were messy with chunky marinara. “The food is amazing.” 

“Do my friends bother you?” he asked of the sisters, while keeping his voice low. 

“No, why would they?” Earwax focused a piercing stare upon Sundance. 

Unable to stop himself, his eyes darted over to Hollyhock, and he felt a bit of smouldering resentment when he saw her unpleasant expression. Earwig, clever in her own way, jerked her head around to see whatever it was that Sundance was looking at, and when she turned back around, she wore a shrewd, thoughtful expression. Her brows furrowed, she glanced once at her sister, and then the furrows that creased her brows smoothed somewhat. Leaning forward, she stared at Sundance with searching eyes. 

“Should I give her a stern talking to?” 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Sundance whispered with as much calm force as he could muster. 

“What’s going on?” Earwax, clueless, licked the chunky marinara from her lips. 

Leaning over, Earwig whispered something into her sister’s ear, and Earwax’s eyes widened considerably. Both mares then looked over in Hollyhock’s direction, and then, as one, returned their attention to Sundance. The filly on the blanket gurgled a bit, grunted, and then with a mighty huff, she went still. In mere seconds, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. 

He thought of his own moments of bigotry, his own shortcomings, and felt ashamed. It didn’t matter that he was trying to change his thinking, he felt bad for the resentment he felt towards Hollyhock, because he felt hypocritical. They weren’t so different, really. Sundance thought about his own struggles, his sexual orientation, whatever it was, and wondered how he might have turned out if he wasn’t so confused. Might he also resent ponies like Turmeric and Rustic? The thought unnerved him. He could have very well turned out that way without his own inner struggle. 

Prejudice was a stone around one’s neck. 

He wanted to feel angry with his mother, and a part of him did on some level, but the simple truth was, it was a sort of laziness on his part. It had been easier to just take his mother’s views, her beliefs, her ideals, and make them his own. That had been the easy path, and required no messy soul searching, like he was doing right now. How easy it had been to take his mother’s beliefs and make them his own, even if they were incompatible with the very core of his being on some level. That was easy. This was hard. 

After just losing Cucumber, this was driving him crazy. Rustic and Turmeric—his friends—had come to bring comfort and spread good cheer. They had brought food. And poor Turmeric, he had stumbled into a trap unawares, a filly desperate for fatherly attention. And for Hollyhock to make the sorts of faces she was making right now, this very moment, this very second… without realising it, Sundance ground his teeth together. The ingratitude. He felt a hot lump growing in his throat, it was lodged tight, impossible to swallow, and the pain it caused was unbearable. 

Then, he could almost hear Cucumber’s voice, reminding him of quiet mercy. 



 

As was often the case after a meal, the dining hall was a mess. Cucumber typically cleaned up, because it was easiest for him to just whisk everything away. But Cucumber wasn’t here. Sundance tried to relax a little, because his back was hurting and all of his muscles felt far too tight for far too long. 

Rustic was looking satisfied with himself whilst he waxed his mustache. Eating had left it a bit dishevelled. Most of the crowd had cleared out, save for Corduroy. There was still work to be done, and no amount of grief or hardship would stop that from happening. He turned to look at his nurse and watched as she examined her claws—her diggy-diggy claws, as she called them. 

“Sundance, you look bent out of shape,” Turmeric said as he cracked open a bottle of Luna~Cola. It was cold enough that condensed vapour could be seen curling out of the top, rising like smoke. 

“I am,” he replied, without saying why. 

“Care to talk about it?” Turmeric asked while cracking open a second bottle of Luna~Cola for Sundance. He set it down, slipped in a straw, and waited, expectantly. 

“No.” Sundance wanted to fold his forelegs over his barrel and sulk, but doing so would cause the skin of his back to stretch and tighten. 

“It’s that mare, staring daggers at me, isn’t it?” 

This was unexpected and Sundance bit his lip to keep from saying something. 

“Of course I noticed. How could I not?” Turmeric took a sip of soda and then rolled his eyes whilst he pulled the bottle away. “That little filly asked me if I wanted to be her daddy. Awk-ward.” 

“She did what?” Sundance’s ears pivoted forwards to hear better. 

“She asked me if I wanted to be her daddy.” Turmeric’s expression became unreadable and his ears retreated back into his mane. “She also told me that you’re her daddy, and it occured to me that she was collecting daddies. Then, it further occured to me that her mama must be collecting daddies, and that sweet little filly was trying to follow in her mama’s hoofsteps.” 

While all of this was being said, Rustic continued to wax his mustache. 

“And her mother was busy just glaring at me for making her daughter feel like a princess. Or because I’m gay. Take your pick. At this point, it doesn’t really matter. Though I did wonder if her mama was jealous of the attention her daughter was getting and I—” 

“I didn’t even think of that,” Sundance blurted out. 

Turmeric lifted up his bottle of Luna~Cola and watched the effervescent bubbles rise along the inside of the glass. A whole new way of seeing the situation presented itself to Sundance, and the stark reality of it made him feel even worse. Now, he didn’t know the cause at all, he had only guessed at it, he had assumed he knew Hollyhock’s motivations. But now, he wasn’t so sure. 

Hollyhock could very well start glaring daggers at him if he made Amber Dawn happy. 

As the complication crept into the situation, Rustic pulled a crate closer, pried it open with magic alone, and then began to unpack it. This crate had the royal seal of Princess Celestia on the side and was full of straw on the inside. With his mustache now perfect once more, Rustic hummed to himself as he began to rummage around inside of the crate. 

“Did you say yes?” Corduroy asked. 

Sundance’s heart lept up into his throat and lodged there, thumping. He hadn’t even thought about that. All of his attention focused on Turmeric, the fussy, prim, rather feminine unicorn. He liked Turmeric and felt weirdly protective of him, because Turmeric needed to feel safe. 

“Of course I said yes,” Turmeric replied. “Every little filly needs a fairy fag-father—” 

“You shouldn’t say that.” Corduroy’s triangular ears went rigid and holding out her paw, she pointed her index paw-finger at Turmeric. “That’s degrading and demeaning. Stop that. Bad pony.” 

Sundance saw confusion and a bit of hurt on Turmeric’s face. The unicorn’s mouth opened, and stayed that way for a while, but no words were said. He then closed his mouth and kept his soulful, searching expression focused on Corduroy. 

“I understand why you do it,” she said to him, her tone one of calm, kind consideration. “You think if you own those words, they’ll hurt less when they’re said. But as a nurse, let me tell you, if you go dead and can’t feel the wounds, you can’t heal from them. You need pain to trigger the healing process. Let them hurt you. Allow yourself to feel it. Own the pain, not the words, and the healing will begin.” 

Quite suddenly, Turmeric was a colt again. Or maybe a filly was a better description. He was bare, vulnerable, all of his outer self stipped away and his very soul laid bare by Corduroy’s words. Not only had she ripped off the bandage, but she scabs beneath as well, and she was busy doing her nurse-thing that she did. The hurt in Turmeric’s eyes seared Sundance’s soul, and he wasn’t sure if he could look at it, but he couldn’t turn away, either. His friend’s pain was now his own and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

“I borrowed Marble’s psychology books when I was a puppy,” Corduroy said. “It seemed like just another form of healing.” 

“You’re… you’re like this amazing mare that I didn’t know I needed in my life—” 

“I’m a bitch,” Corduroy said to Turmeric, smiling as she cut him off. 

“Can we be friends?” the spice-coloured unicorn asked. “Can we hang out and do girly things together?” 

“Sure.” Corduroy shrugged. “Why not? We’ll bring Amber with us and make a day of it.” 

“Oh, I’d like that.” 

With but one exhale, all of the terrible tension left Sundance’s body. He felt okay again. No, he felt better than okay. All of a sudden, he had an appetite, and food sounded amazing. He started with the food left on his plate, but knew that he’d be eating whatever else he could find. More lasagna would be good—definitely more lasagna. 

Meanwhile, as Sundance recovered his will and desire to eat, Rustic was setting up a two-in-one hoof-cranked radio hi-fi. At the moment, he was attaching the spindly brass legs to the main unit, screwing all four of them in at once. It wasn’t a pretty device; far from it, it was exactly the sort of rugged equipment that one brought on an expedition, all brass and hardwoods. But it was still handsome in its own way. 

“I do believe the Observers are a bit enamoured with you,” Rustic said while he worked. “You give them something to talk about. You and Lord Sumac both. Adventurous types that do adventurous things. Foolhardy things. That story about you and the owlbear is going to grow like a beanstalk. That is to say, rapidly and with unexpected twists. Most ponies would be flying away from an owlbear, and not flying at it.” 

Sundance, who had just crammed his mouth full of lasagna, could say nothing. 

“You’ve made the leaderboard. Sure, you’re on the bottom, but I think that is expected from a member of the Canterlot Sub Gentlepony Club. We belong on the bottom. Let everypony else pile on top of us, we’re fine with that.” 

Both Corduroy and Turmeric began snickering together. 

“Did you really do the whole airborne axe murderer thing?” Rustic’s head swiveled so that he could affix his incredulous gaze upon Sundance. “See, Princess Celestia told me that there was an axe lodged in the back of the owlbear’s skull, and that you put it there. Is this true? I won’t actually come right out and say that Princess Celestia lies… but she does so enjoy her embellishments that she shares with those close to her.” 

With his mouth full, Sundance could only nod. 

“Well…” The word was a gasp and then Rustic’s barrel expanded greatly before he continued, “What could possibly make a pony do something like that? I mean, to come after another living creature… with an axe.” 

“It was a splitting maul,” Sundance said after swallowing. 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Rustic retorted. “In fact, that makes it worse.” 

“How so?” Sundance wiped his mouth with his foreleg and then tucked back into his food. 

“It just does.” Rustic shrugged. “A skull is not firewood, okay? I mean… violence.” The fastidious unicorn shuddered so hard that his mustache became mussed. “Conflict. Violence. Intentionally flying at another creature while holding a splitting maul with the intention of causing grievous bodily harm. I can’t… I can’t imagine myself doing it. Or anypony else for that matter. Violence makes me feel queasy… ill.” 

Sundance swallowed, and then let go of a truly legendary belch, the sort of brap that one might (or might not) expect from the distant descendent of Princess Celestia. He licked his lips, his bright orange tongue flicked over his nose for a moment, and holding out his left front hoof, he spoke:

“If something was trying to hurt any one of you, I’d bury a splitting maul right into their skulls as well. And maybe I’d do better this time. I’m done losing friends.” 

“That’s not bragging or boasting,” Turmeric said in a quiet, submissive way. “I mean, saying that you’d attack something with an axe, that’s just scary talk… unless of course you’ve established that you would, in fact, attack something with an axe… and you have. How am I supposed to feel about this? I don’t know how to feel about this. My girly little bunghole keeps clenching when I think about it. It’s like when Flicker comes over and Hennessy starts telling stories about farm equipment—” The sudden, abrupt stop was punctuated after the fact by a hard gulp. 

Unsure of what to say or how to say it, Sundance tore into his food like a savage animal.
> Come together
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The afternoon sun was a bit too warm for spring, almost summerlike, and this made Sundance wonder if Princess Celestia had fiddled with the thermostat. He was almost drowsy, perhaps from the sun, or possibly from the pain and his recovery. It was impossible to tell. Rustic had spread a blanket in the grass just for him and Sundance was sprawled on his belly, his eyes half-closed, and his thoughts were of napping. 

Corduroy was with him still and Turmeric sat beside her. The smaller unicorn was gazing up at the much larger diamond dog with unfettered affection, perhaps even infatuation. He was downright starry-eyed at the moment, but Sundance was too out of it to notice. Rustic did though, and the mustachioed unicorn wore an amused smile. 

“I think I’m in love,” Turmeric said to Corduroy. 

Rustic made a ‘pfft’ sound while rolling his eyes. 

“You can be in love and it doesn’t have to be sexual love.” Turmeric tore his gaze away from Corduroy to give the stink eye to Rustic. “More ponies should be in love with one another. Everything would be nicer.” 

“I think not.” Rustic let go a snort and his eyes rolled around in a spectacular fashion. “We’re stupid, us ponies, and we’d get confused about our love and what it means and what to do about it. Everypony would be crazy jealous.” 

“You can be in love with me,” Corduroy offered. “I don’t mind. Want to bring me gifts?” 

“For you, anything.” 

Sundance thought about chuckling, but was too lazy to do anything about it. 

“I need plumbing.” 

“Honey, I don’t swing that way. I can’t plunge your pipes.” This would have been funny if Turmeric wasn’t so sincerely apologetic with his words. 

Corduroy chuckled, then, reaching out, she draped her arm over Turmeric’s withers. She sat there, her whole body shaking with soft laughter, and Sundance found that he too, was quite taken with how his nurse was, everything about her. She was a kind, perfect creature, and he felt good about himself for hiring her. 

“I’m trying to construct hygienic bathing facilities.” She lowered her head to be a little closer to Turmeric’s ears. “So what I need is some kind of tank to hold water, with pipes and showerheads. We have all the hot water we would ever need. But this place sorely needs modern bathing facilities.” 

“That’s something I can help you with.” Turmeric once again lost himself in Corduroy’s eyes, and it showed. He leaned up against her and then, in a bold move, he closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against her side. “I’d bring you the moon, if you asked me.” 

“Princess Luna might have something to say about that,” replied Corduroy while Turmeric rubbed up against her. “It doesn’t need to be fancy. Something from a salvage yard would work.” 

“You’re wise and practical. The flames have been fanned, honey.” 

Sundance couldn’t help himself; he felt just a teensy weensy bit jealous, and upon realising that he felt this way, he thought about what Rustic had just said. After some drowsily-slow thought, Sundance felt okay with sharing Corduroy. Or maybe he felt okay with sharing Turmeric. It was hard to tell where his jealousy had been directed. But he too, wanted to be loved by Turmeric, or maybe the pain was numbing his brain—as with his jealousy, it was impossible to tell. 

“Can you help me too?” Sundance asked, his words muddled by his chin resting against the ground. 

“Sure… what do you need?” With a turn of his head, Turmeric was now looking right at Sundance. 

“I have an orchard that needs cleared. Dangerous brambles. Big thorns. Really big thorns. I don’t want my treasured earth ponies cut to shreds. Ribbons? I’ve eaten too much and I feel sleepy.” Somehow, Sundance yawned, even with his chin pressing against the ground. 

“I can help with that.” 

“Well, you don’t have to do that—” 

“Sundance?” 

“I don’t want you to feel obligated. You can tell me no and we’ll still be friends. My thoughts don’t make sense right now. Everything hurts. I lost my friend. I don’t want to lose another friend. So if you want to say no, that’s fine.” 

Shaking his head from side to side, Rustic clucked his tongue. Sundance felt a curious awkwardness, because that tongue-clucking was directed at him, he just knew it, and he wondered if, perhaps, he had said to much. Thinking aloud had got him into trouble before. All of a sudden, he felt like crying, and he didn’t know why. His back hurt, but the pain he felt inside, in his heart, his back had nothing on that hidden, unseen pain. 

“I hate asking for help. I think I have a bad case of pegasus pride. My mother warned me about this.” Miserable, aching, Sundance folded his forelegs over his face and did his best to hide himself from the world. 

“Turmeric… I’m speaking to you as your employer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m worried about my business partner,” Rustic said to his associate and companion. “But I also have to open the store in the morning. Inventory is coming in and you know how complicated that gets.” 

“I do,” the spice-coloured unicorn replied. 

Rustic drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out in a huff that ruffled his mustache. “Well, I’ll be. I have the same problem as Sundance. There is something I want you to do, and I know you’ll say yes, and that bothers me. You don’t say no much at all.” 

“Just spit it out, you swallower.” 

“Lewd.” Rustic’s mustache quivered. “Saucy.” 

Turmeric waited. 

“I need you to stay here tonight and look after Sundance. Having a unicorn around might be helpful. We can’t leave him this way. Listen to him, he’s a mess—” 

“I’m right here,” Sundance said to his friends, his words muffled from beneath his forelegs. “Just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I’m invisible. Or does it?” 

A dismissive snort was all that Sundance got from Rustic, who then continued, “Can you do this, Turmeric? You’ll get to spend the night with Corduroy, too.” 

“I don’t mind roughing it for a night. Or two.” 

“You’ll be paid,” Rustic offered.  

“Or three. Four is good.” 

Again, Rustic snorted, and this was followed up with a wispy, lispy sigh. “So eager to say yes and take money. That worries me.” 

“I’m a slut for friendship.” Turmeric’s eyes widened with self-surprise. “What would Princess Twilight Sparkle think?” 

“That’s a good question,” said Corduroy, unseen by Sundance. 

“Look, I’m aware that I don’t like saying no. For good or ill, I like doing what I’m told. But I’m really okay with doing this. You’re my friends and I don’t feel like I’m being taken advantage of. I know that you’ll reciprocate. But… I do… I do appreciate that you’re thinking of me. And I suppose that makes me want to do things for all of you even more. It’s funny how this works.” 

Groaning, Sundance pulled his forelegs away from his face and his eyes were immediately mugged by the sun, who skewered them with golden spears of light. Almost crying just from the sudden light exposure, he moaned and then rolled over onto his side, his good side, the side where he didn’t have a gash that ran from the middle of his neck to halfway down his back. 

He also laid on his wing wrong, but he couldn’t be bothered to move again. 

Princess Celestia had said to make friends, and he had them. But he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Moving forward beyond this point was a total unknown. Cucumber was gone. Dead. Laid to rest in a grave near a tiny crystal tree that was apparently the miraculous magic of Princess Twilight Sparkle. Honestly, Sundance couldn’t even figure out how he had reached this point. He was indecisive and unassertive. Had he coasted to this point? His mind was going everywhere and as his thoughts grew heavy, he felt his drowsiness flee from him, chased away by the growing discomfort between his ears. 

“Why are you helping Sundance?” Corduroy asked. 

“I don’t follow,” replied Rustic. “You sound suspicious just now. Why?” 

“I am more than his nurse.” Corduroy’s voice had a hardness to it now, and Sundance listened to her every word. “Not sure what my role is here just yet, but I am more than his nurse. Everything happens for a reason. This is my home… this barony is probably where I’ll spend my life, and if I am extraordinarily lucky, this is where I will make a name for myself. So… I want to know why you’re doing all of this. Is this just business?” 

Turmeric pulled away from Corduroy, his ears now rested against the back of his head, and he looked at her with narrowed, curious eyes. There was a submissiveness to his appearance, but also a look of concern, of worry, and this gave him presence. Sundance could not help but think that something had changed with his friend. 

“Sincerity,” said Rustic. 

“Sincerity?” Corduroy repeated the word in guarded tones. 

“Sincerity.” For a short time, Rustic’s lips pressed together, and his expression became thoughtful. “Canterlot has a lot of phonies. Fakes. Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of good ponies, but Canterlot has the reputation that it does for a reason. Let’s not fool around. There is a certain type of pony who does good to be a socialite. They want to be seen doing good, and they make a big deal of doing good. You see them at every party, every fundraiser, every charity ball.” 

Rustic leaned forwards and one impeccably groomed eyebrow arched. “Tell me, Corduroy… with all of these do-gooders, did you find gainful employment? I heard you talking with Turmeric. For all of these progressive pilgrims exploring the frontiers of social equality, were you celebrated as a progressive cause and lifted up as a standard so that the rest of the world might follow Canterlot’s example?” 

Corduroy’s silence spoke volumes. 

“No?” Rustic snorted, a bitter, acerbic sound. “I didn’t think so. You want to know why I’m doing this? I savour sincerity. It’s like a fine wine. I’ve spent my life surrounded by fakes, phonies, social-climbers, social-vampires, and media-driven socialites. And then one day, I meet this doofus that has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s trying to do right. And in a city like Canterlot, that stood out to me. It stuck out like a ray of sunshine that somehow finds its way through the most bleak, most oppressive storm clouds. 

“So here’s this clueless pegasus blindly stumbling about, trying to find his way. He doesn’t talk with buzzwords, or the entirely fake language of the Canterlot Socialite. There is no fad cause, no big to-do, he’s not trying to find sponsors to do some social stunt that will get him noticed. He’s just trying to find stuff his peasants need. Within twenty minutes of meeting him, I know that he’s just the sort of pony I need in my life so I don’t become bitter. Cynical. Jaded. I desperately need somepony… somebody to reaffirm my faith in simple goodness… altruism. Doing the right thing for the sake of doing the right thing, and not for personal gain or benefit. Because… if I don’t have this in my life… I am going to lose my mind.” 

Sundance tried to relax all of the muscles that had gone tense without his awareness of them doing so. Rustic sounded like a completely different pony—a second pony that Sundance didn’t know. With everything said, Sundance didn’t know what to think, or feel for that matter. Rustic had just bared himself, exposed his very soul for all to view, but Sundance was the one left feeling naked—a weird state of being for a naturally nude creature. 

“Does that satisfy your need to know?” Rustic asked. 

In response, Corduroy nodded, but nothing was said. 

“Rustic, I had no idea.” Turmeric rose from where he sat, took a few steps, and sat down beside the mustachioed unicorn. “I… Rustic… I…” Words failed him, and he fell silent. 

Snorting, Rustic turned away and stared off at nothing in particular. After a moment, he said, “I feared I was becoming the very thing I hated. To live among the fakes the phonies, I had to become one. Good business. I had to pretend that I liked them… that I adored them. To be accepted by them I had to give them the token recognition that they believed they were entitled to. Sometimes, it felt as though I was losing myself and that my business persona is taking over. Or… I don’t know how to put it. I’m not sure if those are the right words. Something about them feels wrong, even as it feels right to say them.” 

Rolling over onto his belly, Sundance lifted his head up off of the ground. One by one, he looked at his friends, studying them, trying to understand them. He thought of his attempts at being a writer, and his exploration of empathy. Sundance thought of a lot of things all at once, but he did not feel overwhelmed. 

“We have a chance to do good,” he said to his companions. “Not to impress others, or gain a spot on a leaderboard, or for the sake of celebrity. We can do good for own sakes, with our focus only on each other. I feel like I should give some rousing speech, but I have no clue what to say.” 

“Well said, as is.” Turmeric slipped a foreleg over Rustic’s withers and gave his companion a gentle shake of reassurance. “We’re a long ways from Canterlot out here. We can be ourselves… and do good for our own benefit. Not for the sake of urbane sophistication.” 

“I wish Henny was here,” Rustic said as he leaned against Turmeric. 

“Help me build my barony.” Sundance looked at his companions again, making eye-contact with each of them in turn. “It’s a fixer-upper. I need an inner-circle. There’s probably titles and such for the assistants I need, but I have no clue what those are. There is exactly one pony that I want to impress, and that’s really all I care about. Well, maybe more than one. But my point still stands. Help me.” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Corduroy plucked a blade of grass and flicked it into the wind. 

“Well, I’m technically looking for work. Right now, I have a job, but I am looking for a career.” Turmeric pulled Rustic closer, and squeezed him. “I wouldn’t mind a comfortable position beneath a baron. I could bear the weight of rule, I guess, if I had to.” 

“That’s lewd,” Corduroy remarked. 

“Oh, honey, I know.” 

Turning his head, Rustic sighed as his gaze came to rest upon Turmeric. “I just need something I can believe in again…”
> The Guardian of Dawn awakens
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mister Teapot, my friend, rescuer, and mentor, he has an idea that he calls ‘The Friendship String Theory,’” Corduroy said to her companions, who all had pricked, attentive ears. “A life is a thread and by itself, a thread isn’t very strong. It is easily broken. But twine a few threads together and you have a cord. That’s a little stronger. You can tug on it and it’ll hold. But you get enough threads woven together and you get a rope, which is stronger still. Rope holds the world together. The metaphor continues with things like tapestries and such, but I’m sure that all of you get the basic idea. A single strand is weak, but many strands together have strength. I still remember when Mister Teapot told me this, he had just bought me some ice cream and I was sitting on his back. I was still very little. But his words stick out in my memory.” 

“How did you get to be so wise?” asked Turmeric whilst looking up at Corduroy with unabashed adoration. 

Without skipping a beat, Corduroy replied, “I’m too young to be wise. In fact, I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I don’t know everything. My brain assures me that I do, in fact, know everything, which is problematic. If only there was a cure for youth.” 

Smirking, Rustic sat chuckling while giving his companion, Turmeric, a bit of side-eye. 

Corduroy’s words had a profound impact upon Sundance, who slowly retreated into his own thoughts. The warm afternoon was cooling off—a sure sign of a chilly evening—and the sun would soon go into hiding behind the Canterhorn. Night came early here in the shadow of the Canterhorn, which was rather like an enormous sundial protruding from the middle of Equestria. 

“It feels like we’re twining together,” Corduroy said to her companions. “Almost as if we have some greater purpose. There’s a little crystal tree that has sprouted and here we are. Sundance has proven himself worthy. For whatever reason, we’ve been brought together with a shared sense of purpose.” 

“When you put it that way”—a thoughtful frown appeared upon Turmeric’s muzzle—“it does feel a bit more mystical and meaningful. I’m still trying to find my way. Life… I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be getting out of life. Everything went bad… worse than bad, actually… but that led me here… so maybe that’s why bad things happen. I wish I had something better to say. I want to sound wise and meaningful too.” 

“It pains me to say it, but I really should be going.” Rustic’s ears dropped, his eyelids sagged, and his face took on a droopy, deadpan expression. “Turmeric, are you sure you’re fine with being left here?” 

“Get out of here and go home, you silly noodle licker,” was Turmeric’s lewd reply. 

There was a slight heaved sigh as Rustic smiled, then nodded, and in silence came acceptance. Sundance, lost in thought, failed to notice the lingering gaze between the two. He was too busy thinking about Princess Twilight Sparkle’s legacy, and how it tied into just about every aspect of society. The Friendship String Theory was really quite profound, and though it came from another pony, it was clearly derivative of Twilight’s philosophy. 

Eyes rolling, Rustic offered up a dismissive wave with his hoof. “Noodle licker—” 

“You lick the butter from your noodles before you slurp them. That makes you a noodle licker.” 

“What?” Corduroy’s stubby triangular ears pricked. “Who does that?” 

“Rustic.” Turmeric pointed with his left hoof. “That guy. Right there. The noodle licker.” 

“That sounds like a type of compulsion,” said Corduroy in a matter-of-fact way. 

“A compulsive noodle licker.” Turmeric nodded with mock-solemnity. 

Sundance, lost in thought, failed to notice any of this. With his eyes westward, his thoughts elsewhere, his mind was on lofty goals. Life suddenly becoming profound was something that only happened in books and movies, in bad Saturday serials and cheap drugstore pulp novels. It kept the reader reading and the watcher watching. Yet, here he was, with his life taking a sudden profound turn. It wasn’t just becoming a baron, but the fact that somepony died, which made all of this quite real. It added to the profundity and gave it a sort of mental penetration that left a mess in the middle of his thoughts. 

His mind—now awakened to all things possible—thunk big thoughts. Which was difficult for Sundance. He was not a smart pony, contrary to what others might think. To have his moments of profound insight, he struggled. His seeming brilliance was an illusion brought about by hours of effort and toil. While his friends shared a moment with one another, he had retreated to the vast frontier that existed within and marvelled at the vast, empty expanses to be found. 

The sun, Celestia’s glory, settled a little lower. 



 

With his left wing held gingerly over his eyes, Sundance stared westward, watching as the departing airship shrank in size. Turmeric stood beside him; the fussy, fastidious unicorn’s tail flicked at flies that did not exist. Corduroy sat in the green grass, her gaze also westward. The Canterhorn was surrounded by a brilliant flaming glow as the sun settled behind it. It was a spectacular view and Sundance knew as the seasons shifted into summer that the sunsets would only become more vivid and intense. It was a long way down from the tip of the Canterhorn to the horizon, so the lightshow of the sun setting lasted for hours. 

Building a barony was no easy task; it required sacrifice and hard work. So far, it had also cost a life. Now, Sundance found himself in a position where he asked others to give themselves over to a cause. How much was necessary? Only so much could be asked from a pony, a creature. Yet, Cucumber had died as he had lived, an example. The old unicorn had given all he had to give, including his life. 

Sundance, now more than ever, understood his position. Even so, he knew this was the beginning of his understanding, and that he had a long way to go. He had gone to Canterlot in search of a nurse and found Corduroy. While a nurse was needed, something more was necessary. Something vague, nebulous, something that Sundance was incapable of defining or explaining. It was something so complex that he was utterly incapable of putting it into words. How could he ask another to give up the entirety of their lives for the good of the barony? 

And so it was that Sundance found himself wearing the shoes of his distant forbear, Princess Celestia. He managed a small patch of land, while she bore an entire nation on her back. She had, in effect, asked him to give up the entirety of his life for the good of the barony, and without understanding what he was getting into, he had done so. Now he had the task of finding the most extraordinary creatures and asking them to give their lives to do a thankless job. 

“Milord…” 

The sound of Earwax’s friendly voice pulled Sundance from his thoughts. 

“Sire, I don’t mean to bother—” 

“What is it, Earwax?” 

Sundance turned to look at the three legged mare that he had risked his own life to save. She was dear to him, precious in a way that he could not express. Much to his surprise, she wasn’t looking at him, but at Turmeric. When she pawed the ground with one hind hoof, a sure sign of nervous hesitation, he could not help but think about how she was adapting to life on three legs. 

“I was hoping that your friend might do the rounds.” She licked her lips, nervous. “Like Cucumber did. Make sure the fires are lit, see that everypony is alright. I think it would mean a lot. We’re a sad lot… even if some of us aren’t showin’. The last Milord didn’t like us being all sad and miserable if somepony died. We’d get punished. S'posed to carry on, and all that.” 

“I’d be honoured,” Turmeric blurted out before Sundance could respond. 

Something crossed over Earwax’s face, but Sundance didn’t know what it was. Relief perhaps? A brief moment of happiness? Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see and it was something else. She was still pawing the grass with one hind hoof while her tail swung from side to side behind her. There was something about her eyes that tugged at Sundance’s soul, and he could feel it as it jostled around inside of him. 

“I’ll come with you,” Corduroy said. “We’ll make a date of it.” 

“A date?” Turmeric seemed surprised. 

“Yeah, a date.” A hint of nervousness could be seen as the diamond dog flexed her paw-fingers. “Just a nice time between friends.” 

“I’d like that.” When Turmeric looked upwards, he did so with an expression of worshipful adoration. “Will you say wise things?”

“I’ll try,” replied Corduroy. 

“They’re welcoming you into their humble homes,” Sundance said to his friend, Turmeric. “My subjects do not trust easily.” For a moment, he was bewildered by what he had just said, how he sounded, and the words spoken. Subjects? It felt strange, saying such. “They are sharing their grief with you. Opening their doors and hearts to you. They’re asking you to do Cucumber’s job… and Cucumber was their… well, he was their everything. Cucumber lived to serve the servants.” 

And died for the sake of his obligation, Sundance thought to himself. 

Turmeric licked his lips, his ears fell, his tail went still, and as his head bowed, he said, “Oh… oh… well… I, uh… that’s um…”—he stood there, stammering for a time, lost for words, but finally found his tongue—“I suppose I’d better treat this with the dignity it deserves. Uh, Sundance, if you don’t mind me asking, how’d you get so noble all of a sudden? You’re uh, kind of magnificent right now. Sort of makes me want to swoon, really.” 

“I don’t know what you mean—”

Corduroy held out her paw whilst she interrupted and said, “There is something a bit regal about you, Sundance.” 

“Yeah.” Earwax said nothing else, but nodded with her ears splayed out flat. 

“I’ve been thinking, I guess.” Sundance was about to shrug, but thought better of it, as he didn’t wish to split a stitch. “Acceptance. There is so much that I cannot put into words. Thoughts. Feelings. I mean, there’s a lot inside of my head right now, and I’m too stupid to turn these thoughts and feelings into words. I just lost my retainer. He’s gone. Cucumber was my tutor… my teacher, I guess? I’ve only just started. Without knowing what I’m doing, I’ve had to accept that this is my life now, and that I must ask of others what has been asked of me, and this has me thinking about what it must be like for Princess Celestia. Corduroy is more than a nurse, she’s… something greater for the barony. But I’m so stupid that I don’t know what it is. This realisation of stupidity has been humbling and I am determined to make the most of it.” 

Turmeric—his eyes cast downward—looked away. 

“There’s no cure for youth,” Corduroy grumbled. 

“Turmeric, my friend… please, go see to the needs of my subjects. The dark frightens them. Tomorrow I’ll ask even more of you.” Sundance bowed his head. “I’ll never ask more of you than what I would of myself. This is what it means to be friends with me, I guess. I’m sorry. If you stick around, I’ll only ever ask more and more of you.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” Turmeric lifted his head. “I’m here because I want to be here.” 

Sundance found comfort in these words. 

“I’m here because I wanted to make something of myself.” Corduroy’s girth puffed out and her eyes glittered with keen intelligence. “Even if that something does not yet have a title.” 

“Hurry.” Sundance made a gesture with his hoof. “What remains of the daylight is slipping away. We’ll talk more later. Duties and obligations must come first. Earwax, thank you. Do what must be done. As for myself, I plan to watch the setting sun and collect my thoughts.” 

“Milord, doesn’t the dark scare you?” asked Earwig. 

“No,” he replied as a surge of confidence overtook him. “As the future Guardian of Dawn, I must trust that the sun will rise.”
> A pegasus ponders
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lost in the hazy domain that existed between slumber and wakefulness, Sundance tried to understand why his bed box didn’t quite feel just right. It was warm; far warmer than usual. Approaching the vast frontier of consciousness, it occurred to him that he was not alone. How was he not alone? This required far more thought than his half-dreaming, half-awake, semi-lucid mind could deal with, so he rose from the depths of Princess Luna’s sacred domain so that he might make sense of the curious situation he found himself in. 

Somehow, in a bed box that was hardly big enough for one, there was two. 

Even more improbable was the fact that this did nothing to harm Sundance’s back, which was too tender to touch. Who had the feline grace to compress themselves into a boneless ball of fuzz that just so happened to fit into a corner and serve as a pillow, which Sundance now rested his chin upon? The answer rapidly pulled Sundance from his slumber and his eyelids fluttered open like dazed butterflies who had bravely fluttered into the path of a twister. 

It was a moment that was intensely uncomfortable and caused some emergency soul-searching in the dark confines of his bed box. But the soul-searching required that he be fully awake and aware, a condition he was unwilling to subject himself to. Dawn was hours away—hours that he could be sleeping. Still, his brain was not content with a quick return to slumber, and Sundance found himself musing over the situation in his current muddled, groggy, not entirely awake state.

Why was he panicked? Was he panicked? No… not really. But he was something. Stallions didn’t climb into a bed together and snuggle, did they? Maybe some did. Mares did it and made a point of doing it as friends, all climbing into bed together and giving each other hooficures or whatever it was that mares did when piled into a bed with one another. Did anypony ever fantasise about stallions having a sleepover and giving one another hooficures while exchanging beauty tips? That didn’t seem likely, for some reason. 

There was nothing quite like being half-awake and worrying about one’s sexuality. 

Even worse, there were other factors that made it even more complicated; Turmeric considered himself girly, a fact that caused a flood questions, a tide of questions that appeared upon the distant edge of the sea of consciousness. Just because Turmeric considered himself girly didn’t change the fact that Sundance now found himself in his bed box with another stallion. 

But Turmeric had issues of the trust variety and had crawled into bed—a place of safety. 

Within his dreaming mind, something manifested, took shape and form as his thoughts took on a decidedly blue tint. The tide was rolling in now; he could almost see and hear the waves as they formed in the distance. Sundance’s eyelids grew impossibly heavy, a weight far too much to bear. The sound of feathered wings that flapped joined the pleasant diversion of the waves, the call of the sea. 

Why should these things matter? 



 

When Sundance awoke for the second time, he was not at all bothered with the fact that Turmeric was in his bed box. The itch of dawn was persistent, impossible to ignore, and he roused himself from his pleasant dreams of the ocean. Seagulls could still be heard in his ears as his eyes opened. After lifting his head, he yawned. 

Dawn was a harsh mistress to demand that he rise at such an early hour. 

On weak, wobbly legs he rose and pushed open the door to his bed box. Others slept in the dining room, and he had no desire to disturb them. Moving with as much grace as his injured body could muster, he slipped from his bed, crept across the floor, and made his way to the door. Before the dawn could be greeted, he had a bit of business to take care of. 

Out the door he went with nary a sound. 



 

The dawn proved glorious and the sun rose from the jagged, gap-toothed maw of the eastern mountains. Owlister hooted—a sleepy sound—and Sundance lamented that he could not fly to his usual position to greet the dawn. He had walked a considerable distance, leaving the box canyon, and now stood in the middle of the vast stone-strewn fields that had once seen battle. 

“Hello, Great Grandmother,” said Sundance to the sun as the first few precious rays filtered through the distant evergreen-dotted mountains. He closed his eyes and waited for the first kiss of warmth upon his face. “What surprises await me today?” 

Wings could be heard in the retreating darkness as a host of owls hurried to find a place to rest. Sundance, waiting for the sun, thought about the cycles of day and night here, the balance that existed in this place. The wise, studious owls were the guardians of Princess Luna’s sacred night, while Princess Celestia’s sun kept watch during the day. 

Or something. 

He was positive that more poetic thoughts could be made if he was a bit more awake. 

His frogs and fetlocks were damp with dew and the chilly breeze left him with gooseflesh. The cold seemed far colder in contrast to the warmth found in one’s own bed. Turned eastward, Sundance lifted his head high, spread his wings, and waited. The dawn was taking its own sweet time, but that was fine. He could be punctual and the dawn could be lazy, because that was the dawn’s prerogative. 

“Hi.” 

With his moment of sublime tranquility interrupted, Sundance’s eyes flew open at the somewhat squeaky sound of the filly’s voice. A filly, that, by the way, was now sitting beside him, wiggling her behind in the wet grass. Her eyes were still crusty from sleep and she looked as though she hadn’t slept well. 

“My sister cried all night.” 

“And just what are you doing away from the protective eye of your mother?” Sundance asked in as stern of a voice as he could muster. 

“Well,” the filly replied with a noticeable trace of sarcasm, “my name is Amber Dawn. What’s a pony with my name supposed to do? I snuck out the door and saw you leaving so I followed you. I sure do love my new sister, but holey cheese, she sure does cry. And all that crying made my brother cry, and he’s a mess.” Then, after a moment, she added, “Your owl looks like a pincushion.” 

“And you look like a filly that’s going to get lectured by a tired, grumpy, exhausted mom that didn’t get a wink of sleep all night.” Turning his gaze eastward once more, Sundance smiled. 

A groaning yawn was the filly’s only response. 



 

Among Turmeric’s many talents was the ability to shape wood. He wasn’t very good at it, but that didn’t matter. At the moment, he was attempting to coax wood into something of a drying rack that could be hung in the rafters of Corduroy’s infirmary. As for the stone cottage itself, it was mostly done, but still in need of a door and windows. The roof was finished, a stone floor had been laid out, and the structure was quite large—enough so that Corduroy could live and work within comfortably. 

Corduroy herself was hard at work with a saw and hammer. From the looks of things, she was constructing some kind of table, or perhaps a bench. It was a bit too tall to be a pony table, at least judging by the wooden legs that the industrious diamond dog had already constructed. Sundance marvelled at her immense strength, and the fact that she could sink a nail in a single strike. 

The infirmary was an immense structure, really, at least by pony standards, but Sundance suspected that it might be cosy by Corduroy’s standards. The opening for the door had to be at least two yards tall—at least twice as tall as the average, common pony. It was also at least a yard wide; even though she was slender by her species standard, Corduroy was still a diamond dog, a creature of immense bulk. 

Potato and Good Spirits went past, the both of them loaded down, bearing buckets of milk hung from well-balanced yokes. Sundance watched them for a time, fascinated by their strength and fluid movement. As he watched them go, he thought about the barony’s many goats, and the lessons in school that he had actually paid attention to. Goats, as a species, were cursed; most of them were quite stupid and only a rare few could converse. Long ago, long, long ago, goats were some of the cleverest of creatures, skilled in magic, and this had been their undoing. Skilled in magic as they were, some turned to necromancy. 

One in particular stood out: Grogar the goat warlock. 

A single necromancer was a serious threat, a real problem. But Grogar, a clever goat even by goat standards, spread necromancy through his species, who were given a dreadful choice: follow him or die. Some goats resisted, of course, and examples were made of them. They were killed, revived, and made to serve. 

Some crazed alchemist, his name somehow mysteriously lost to time, created a vile concoction that was infused with incomprehensible magics and this was turned into a bomb. The alchemist snuck into the city that the goat army occupied at the time, the ancient city of Cowstantinople (now called Istanbull) and detonated his creation. This resulted in the Great Devolve; fauns, satyrs, and the various goat races were struck stupid. Even worse, those who survived birthed common, stupid goats, and so it was that fauns and satyrs slowly vanished from the world. Very few goats survived unscathed.

A great many minotaurs suffered as well, and devolved back into near-mindless bovines. 

It was a tale of myth and legend, a claim whose veracity was held in doubt. Some Equestrians held tight to their belief in these stories, which went hoof in hoof with lessons about compassion and kindness to one’s former enemies. Sundance was uncertain of what he believed; a great many things were taught in school, and not all of them could be true. 

At this very moment, he was standing amidst the proof that some of his schooling was a lie, absolute falsehoods, and his thoughts turned to this fact. Equestria’s Civil War it was said, ended the feudal period. Yet, here he was, now the baron of a fiefdom that time forgot. Perhaps feudalism had ended in the general sense, and some ponies, perhaps those of a more Separatist bent, were eager to forget the past—perhaps enough so to alter the facts to their liking. 

What would his teachers say if they saw this place? 

Like a phoenix, Equestria’s feudalistic ideals had only recently rose from their own ashes. New baronies were being established and old ones resuscitated. A new generation of lords and ladies was now established. How must the surviving Separatists and their sympathisers feel, to witness such a revival? It occured to Sundance that he was living in a moment of history not yet written, a history that he had a hoof in shaping. 

The realisation humbled him and the weight of his thoughts bent his proud neck.
> Paradox arrival
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hoof-cranked radio with spindly brass legs did not have the best reception. Sundance tried to listen to the news while also blowing on his tea. What little he could hear spoke of war, labour disputes, unrest, shortages, and riots on both coasts. It wasn’t the sort of news he wanted to hear, but he felt it was necessary for a baron to be well-informed. 

Prince Blueblood’s voice was buttery smooth, what little that could be heard between the bursts of crackly static. The other voices were ones that Sundance did not recognise. Manehattan had turned into a pressure cooker of sorts; too many immigrants, not enough food and housing. Equestria had a policy where none were turned away, but right now, with the war in full swing, the system was stretched beyond capacity. 

The war, simply known as, The War, was a distant thing for Sundance, just as it was for many. He was aware of it, as were so many others, but the details remained sparse. It was fought overseas, in other lands, other places. Grogar and his armies advanced upon the known world, while the armies of Equestria and her allies pushed them back. The front was always moving, never in one place for long—with the exception of Zebrabwe. For whatever reason, Grogar and his minions had a particular fear and hatred of the zebras, who saw the worst of the fighting. 

On the radio, the voices began arguing, with one of the hosts suggesting that it was time to turn the immigrants away. Hearing them bicker gave Sundance ideas, vague notions. His was a barony in need of population. Right now, he might not be well suited to taking in large numbers—but he could be. He’d need housing aplenty, a bigger, better communal kitchen, and modern sanitation. All of which were enormous changes that he wasn’t yet sure of how to accomplish. 

Several wooden crates bearing Princess Celestia’s royal seal were still unopened, stacked in the corner, but Sundance could not muster the energy to be curious. Some had been opened; such as the one with the radio, while others were left untouched. For now, they were just things, things stacked in the corner, things that might be opened some time. 

“You look glum.” 

Not bothering to lift his head, Sundance replied to Corduroy, “Not glum. Just thoughtful. In pain. I have all these thoughts that I’m not smart enough to think about. Maybe I am glum. I miss Cucumber. He’s gone, but life goes on. I guess.” 

“And you’re grounded right now.” Corduroy rested her paws on the edge of the table. “A pegasus that can’t fly is not a happy pegasus. This is an unnatural state for you. You can’t fly off and do stuff on a whim.” 

At a loss for words, Sundance said nothing, but cast his sullen stare down into his teacup. Corduroy’s words held an unpleasant truth that he didn’t want to talk about. The hoof-cranked radio ran out of crank and after one final burst of garbled static, it went silent, leaving the outcome of the conversation unknown. 

When Turmeric went to crank up the radio, Sundance told him, “Don’t bother.” 

Shrugging, Turmeric offered up no real disagreement. Something about this felt off somehow, and Sundance felt bad. Maybe he could have been a bit nicer? Was it just his own mood that made him think that something was wrong? Turmeric seemed okay, but Sundance couldn’t be sure, and everything just felt wrong. 

“Sometimes, grief is sneaky and shows up as something else.” 

Flabbergasted, Sundance turned and lifted his head to stare at Corduroy. 

“It can take a day or two. Or a week. Sometimes a month. Grief is like that. It’s more than mental and can cause physical symptoms, just like depression. You can feel irritable, out of sorts. Confused. Sometimes it is a vague sort of malaise that doesn’t seem to make much sense, which confounds you, because you’ve convinced yourself that you’re dealing with your grief just fine. As bad as all of this is, it’s probably worse for you. Right now, you’re stuck. Probably bored. You can’t fly away to cope and so you are stuck dealing with your grief on terms not your own.” 

“Corduroy,” said Sundance in a low, tremulous voice, “how did I end up with you?” 

She shrugged her broad shoulders as she replied, “You hired me.” 

For whatever reason, this made him feel worse. “You deserve better.” 

Averting her eyes, she drummed her paw-fingers against the table. “I don’t know. So far, I like what I have here. There’s a nice little infirmary that I’ve made with my own two paws. I get to be creative and all of my skills, all of them, each and every one of them is put to the test.” Again she shrugged. “I like my job. Whatever it is.” 

When Turmeric spoke, his words were hesitant. “You do seem a little under the weather. I don’t want to say that you were happier yesterday, but you were in a better mood. Corduroy is right though. You do seem a little glum. Out of sorts. A bit broody. Which is fine.” 

“You climbed into bed with me last night—” 

“It was cold,” the effeminate unicorn replied before Sundance could finish. “I was wrapped up in a blanket and sleeping on the floor. My teeth started chattering. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve gone on expeditions and I’m used to roughing it, but it was cold. The floor was cold. And all my expeditions have been into warm climes. I could see my breath last night!” 

Hearing all of this, Sundance deflated. That cold discomfort that he’d experienced was the very reason why he nested in a box. His barony was a miserable place, lacking even the most basic of comforts. That his friend chose to stay here made him feel weirdly uncomfortable and he could feel himself squirming from within. He thought of the smoke-filled hovels, the overall state of the barony, and the worst of thoughts crept into the back of his mind. What was he doing here and more importantly, just what was it that he, a common pony, could do to change all of this? 

This, more than anything else, unnerved him. 

Daredevil that he was, he knew that doubt was the enemy. It was the hesitation that killed you, that moment where you stopped to reconsider what you were doing as you rapidly approached the stacks of the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen. Thinking was bad, sometimes. It was better to fly without thought, without distractions. Only, he couldn’t fly, and he was stuck thinking. Swift action suited him; cogitation did not. 

“Sometimes, grief triggers bouts of aggressive introspection,” Corduroy said while drumming her paw-fingers against the edge of the table. “We try to find meaning to whatever has happened. Some purpose. That’s how we internalise stuff. But sometimes, when we go to think about it, we end up thinking about ourselves and what we do. We think about how we fit into events that took place and if there is meaning in our own lives. Some of us never have a moment of intense introspection in our lives and we just sort of coast along—until something happens that forces us to look within. It comes at a bad time; we’re not used to serious introspection, and we’re dealing with whatever situation that is the cause, and so coping with everything all at once can be quite difficult. Which, all things considered, can trigger an emotional cascade of sorts—” 

Corduroy halted mid-sentence as the door opened and Earwig popped her head inside the dining hall. Sundance looked at her, saw that she seemed a bit excited, and for a moment, a dreadful pang of intense worry caused his stomach to knot. She licked her lips, her ears pricked, and then she made a gesture with her hoof. 

“We’ve got visitors incoming. It’s like we exist again. I can’t remember ever having this many visitors to the barony. You showed up and everything changed, Milord!” 

“Visitors, you say?” Sundance lifted his head, but to actually rise up out of his own funk would be so much harder. “I suppose I should make ready to greet them. How do I look, Earwig?” 

“Very Milordy, Milord. It’s nice to have a proper Milord to greet guests.” 

In spite of himself, Sundance smiled. 

“There’s a strong north wind,” Earwig said as her ears splayed straight out side to side. “We’re sheltered in the canyon, Milord, but the landing might be rough. Those gusts are treacherous.” 

“Corduroy, Turmeric, come with me. You might be needed. Let us go and greet our guests.” Sundance rose from the table, feeling a bit more of his usual self once more. “Excuse me while I don my noble bearing…” 



 

The frigid spring wind had the strength of a raging torrential flood. It came from the north, bringing with it a downright unpleasant chill. Sheltered in the embrace of the box canyon, the ponies who lived there went about their day, relatively unconcerned about the brutal gusts. But out in the open, where the airstrip was, the wind played havoc and Sundance found that he had a difficult time standing upright. 

Earlier this morning, the weather had been quite pleasant; but the weather here could be described as ‘feral’ at best, fickle and swift to change. Dark clouds could be seen advancing, and not just any dark clouds, but those pregnant with the promise of rain. A gift from the Crystal Empire no doubt, whose weather reflected the mood of its princess protector. 

Canterlot would no doubt become a no-fly zone. 

“There’ll be rain, later,” said Turmeric, stating the obvious, and being that pony. “I don’t like the cold.” 

After licking her paw-finger, Corduroy held it up and faced the wind, her bulk nigh-immovable. Sundance, without knowing why, found her actions amusing, and was distracted from his funk. The wind whipped his mane around his face, caused it to snap around his eyes, and forced him to blink from fearful reflexive response. Her tail wagged and he found it rather incredible that she was utterly immune to the incoming wind. 

Too bad her smock wasn’t. 

Off to the west, a tiny speck was tossed about in the sky. Sundance could only just barely make it out, and no doubt, Potato’s weird sense had detected it long before it became visible. There was enough turbulence to be fun—well, a daredevil’s sense of fun, anyhow. Given the strength of the wind, the incoming craft was probably getting tossed around. 

“Where’s our visitor?” Turmeric asked, while squinting. 

Sundance pointed westward. 

“I can’t see anything.” Squinting to the point where his eyes appeared closed, Turmeric faced westward and was almost blown right over when the wind hit him broadside. “Must be nice to have pegasus eyes.” 

“Those birds are flying backwards,” Corduroy said in the sort of voice that one might use to report boring, bland scientific findings. 

“Any wise words about life, Corduroy? Something inspired by all this wind? Birds flying backwards as they go into a headwind seems like a life lesson.” 

“Sure, Turmeric… don’t spit in the wind, don’t tug on Mister Teapot’s tail, and never make a Pie angry. How’s that for wise words?” 

Hearing his companion’s banter, Sundance felt better. He thought of Cucumber, but that didn’t last long, as his thoughts went elsewhere. In the safe, secure confines of the box canyons, it looked as though the ponies were preparing for the coming storm. Firewood was hauled. Window shutters were shut and secured. Livestock was herded into the cave barn. Floodgate ran about in circles, no doubt giddy about the coming rain. 

“You don’t have a weather team,” Turmeric said to Sundance. 

With one eye on the storm, Sundance waited for their visitor to arrive. 



 

The golden chariot glinted, a bright mote of brilliance that stood out in sharp contrast to the tumultuous grey thunderheads rolling in from the north. It was getting tossed around pretty good, but the four pegasus ponies wearing golden armor were excellent fliers of strong and no doubt sturdy stock. In the chariot a mare could be seen, and her dazzling mane streamed out behind her, a flowing, billowing mass of all shades of pink and orange. 

Even from this distance, Sundance could not help but notice how much the mare looked like his grandmother, Noonfire Shimmer. Just like his grandmother, this mare was an eye-searing shade of ray-of-sunshine-orange. His mother, Sunbeam Shimmer, her mane was more red-orange, rather than pink-orange The family resemblance was obvious, very much so, and Sundance knew that he had to be looking at Paradox Sunflower. 

A stream of vomit trickled over the side of the chariot, and Turmeric made a peculiar noise in the base of his throat before saying, “Contrary to popular belief, unicorns don’t actually puke rainbows. But some of us can cum glitter—” 

“That’s lewd!” Corduroy waved her paws around, as if she could somehow fan away the sexually-charged words uttered by the mustard-yellow unicorn beside her. 

The team of pegasus ponies began their final approach and they were coming in hot, fighting the north wind that was pushing them off course. As for the chariot itself, Sundance wondered about its flight characteristics, especially in comparison to the common sky truck. The chariot was ornate, a bit showy, had high, broad sides, which probably made it fly like a cloud-wallowing pigasus. But, for all of its faults, it could be said that the ceremonial chariots had style. 

“I’m pretty sure that a diagnosis of air sickness is accurate,” Corduroy said in a matter-of-fact way as the stricken unicorn once more spewed over the side. 

“You know,” Turmeric said in a low voice, “those parade chariots are flimsy. They don’t do hard landings.” 

“Is that so?” Corduroy replied. 

“I know from experience,” Turmeric said in return. “Canterlot is a windy city.” 

“Then why have them?” asked Corduroy. 

Turmeric shrugged, but had nothing to say. 

As the pegasus team came in hard and fast, Sundance backed away from the airstrip, fearful of the outcome. The wind was not only coming in from the north, but also pushing downward—flight conditions he was all too familiar with when flying through urban canyons. These were the sort of landing conditions that could make one turn a fetlock or do a fantastic faceplant. 

But these guards, these four ponies, were amazing. The two in the rear actually folded in their wings, while the two in the front went full steerage. Steering in flight wasn’t a matter of right or left, but also up and down. Just before impact with the runway, the two rear pegasus ponies unfurled their wings, but did not flap. The sudden drag slowed the chariot’s descent at the last minute, and there was a remarkably light touchdown. 

It was a teamwork feat that Sundance had never seen. 



 

A distressed unicorn mare stepped from the chariot and when she lifted her head, Sundance noticed her eyes. She had the same eyes as his grandmother, a shade of blue that could almost be called turquoise. The young mare could only be described as gawky, and he wondered if she was sick, because her pelt was patchy, with thin places that were almost bald. 

“Baron Sundance—BLARGHARGHBLARGHARGLE!” 

The poor mare spewed and Sundance feared that her twiggy, wobbly legs would give way beneath her. She was quick to recover though, wiped her mouth with her foreleg, and acted as though she hadn’t just tossed her cookies. Panting a bit, she took a moment to catch her breath, restore her senses, and with a grimace of plucky determination, she tried again. 

“Baron Sundance, I am Paradox Sunflower, your new court wizard. I have a degree in Advanced Theoretical Explosioneering. You and I share a pedigree. I am ready to begin my duties.” She stepped over her own puddle of sick, wobbled a bit more, and offered up a weak, wan smile. “I’m having a Twilight Sparkle moment. A gifted, socially awkward unicorn, sent off to some provincial backwater to offer assistance and better the lives of the locals. Only this place is a whole lot more provincially and backwatery than Ponyville.” 

“Socially awkward is certainly the start of an accurate diagnosis,” Corduroy deadpanned. 

“What?” Paradox’s ears pricked. 

“Oh, nothing,” Corduroy replied in a far more audible voice. 

“Welcome to the Sunfire Barony.” Sundance bowed his head, but kept his eyes on his cousin. “I’m Sundance. I’m glad you decided to join us.” 

“Oh, I didn’t have much of a choice.” Paradox paused for a moment, thoughtful, and her eyes seemed unfocused, distant. When she spoke, again, she shook her head while doing so. “The Lord Mayor of Canterlot declared me a menace to society and I was put on The List. In order to continue my studies so I can earn my doctorate, I needed a place far, far away from civilisation for reasons of safety. Canterlot frowned upon the frequency of my booms.” 

At that moment, Sundance found himself looking up at Corduroy, only to discover that his nurse was looking down at him. She stood with her forearms folded over her girth, and the wind tugged at her stubby triangular ears. After clearing his throat, Sundance returned his attention to Paradox, but he was at a total loss for words. What could possibly be said at a moment like this one? 

“Booms?” Turmeric sidled behind Corduroy’s leg. 

“That’s my magical talent,” Paradox replied and her voice grew shrill. “I make things explode! KA-BOOM!” 

One of the guards rolled his eyes, but the others remained as statues. 

“Well, specifically, according to Sunburst, my talent is particle manipulation.” Paradox’s voice was now both shrill and nasal. “But when I slam particles together, stuff explodes. So it’s the same as having a talent for explosions, really. Truth in application.” 

“Well, we should unload your stuff and allow your escorts to go before the storm hits.” Sundance, uncertain of how to feel, kept his emotions from showing and maintained a neutral expression. 

“Princess Celestia sent some of my lab equipment already. I just have my trunk and Geiger Tiger is in his kitty carrier. I’m a proper wizard, you know, and I have a familiar and everything. Now I just need a tower to live in to satisfy the wizard checklist for successful career wizards. A tower is a must, you know. Dim Dark and Sunburst of the Crystal Empire authored a book together, and it includes a twenty page section that has a checklist for the successful career wizard.” 

When did Paradox stop to breathe, Sundance wondered. 

For now, Sundance decided it was best to avoid telling his cousin that he had no tower for her to stay in. The guards were antsy, clearly eager to take off as soon as possible, and Sundance hoped that they’d stay safe. It was time to introduce Paradox to the rest of the barony, and he hoped that she wouldn’t run away once she saw the living conditions. With her escorts gone, it would be a long walk back to Canterlot if she decided to leave. 

“Paradox Sunflower… welcome home.”
> How to train your baron
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

During his incredibly short stint as a baron, Sundance had never seen anything quite like this. His peasants—his ponies—had all gathered together in a tight, solemn huddle and now watched Paradox Sunflower. There was something on each and every one of their faces—pain, perhaps. Maybe sorrow, or some manner of longsuffering. It was hard to say what it was, but the drooping ears and the weighted gazes were a sure sign of something. 

The wind whistled and whipped the top of the waterfall into a froth. 

It was Earwig who stepped forward and said, “You look like your mother.” 

Paradox went still, she froze in place and said nothing while holding her cat carrier in front of her like a shield. Sundance eyed the crowd, trying to read each face, each sad pair of eyes, the fine print in each wrinkle on every forehead. He could feel the weight of the moment bearing down upon him, and he feared he might be crushed by the sheer oppression of it. 

“Your mother was a great beauty,” Earwig continued whilst advancing a few steps. “She was a ray of sunshine, your mother. Her beauty… there was nothing else like it. We’re all dull and drab, but your mother was a real spot of colour.” 

“Look what it got her,” Paradox said, murmuring the words. 

“She was our joy… our happiness. When she sang, her voice echoed through this canyon. Her songs were so uplifting—” 

“I only ever knew sad songs,” Paradox blurted out, and as she spoke her voice cracked several times. “Haunting songs that filled me with dread.” 

Earwig continued her advance, her head now raised, and her ears held high. “You look so much like her. So beautiful. So striking. Can you sing?”

“I don’t want to be beautiful!” Paradox shrieked. “I don’t sing! I don’t do anything that calls attention to myself! Stay back! Stay away from me! I don’t like being touched! Coming here was a mistake! I can’t believe I let Princess Celestia talk me into this!” 

Sundance tried to reassure the distressed young mare. “Paradox—” 

“No! It’s not okay! Don’t try to tell me it is! And don’t touch me! All of you, stop staring at me!” 

Sad wickers. Soft whinnies. Sundance’s ears pricked at each sound, but he never took his eyes from Paradox. He remembered well what Princess Celestia had said to him, about how she was trusting him with Paradox’s care and well-being. This… this was unfamiliar territory for him. Paradox’s homecoming revealed yet another rotten aspect of the barony, a wound that would need to be lanced open and left to bleed if it were to be healed. 

Corduroy, who held Paradox’s trunk, grunted, perhaps as a reminder that she was standing still, unmoving, whilst she held something heavy. Turmeric shuffled on his hooves and for a moment, it seemed as though he would say something, but the words never manifested. Sundance concluded that if this mess were to be sorted out, he would have to be the one to do it. 

“Coming here was a mistake—” 

“Paradox—” 

“What?” the young mare snapped while she stomped her hoof. “Don’t touch me!” 

The only thing he could grasp for seemed to be straws. Could this moment be salvaged? The guards and the chariot were already gone. If Paradox wanted to go home, it would be quite difficult, because at the moment, he was grounded. Which, he realised, may have been Princess Celestia’s intentions with having this happen now. He thought about what she said about testing his mettle and burning away his dross. 

“You said this was your Twilight Sparkle moment,” he said to her in the softest, kindest, most non-threatening voice he could muster. 

“So what if I did?” Paradox replied while her face twitched with temper. 

“How different things might have been, if Twilight Sparkle had ran away from Nightmare Moon—” 

“That’s not the same thing at all!” she cried while she shook her head. “It’s not.” These words came out as a near-whine. “How dare you use my own comparisons against me. That’s not fair! Now I feel stuck! Stuck! And I don’t like it.” 

Sundance thought about apologising, but didn’t. 

“I don’t want this to be my Nightmare Moon.” Paradox whimpered these words while she continued to shake her head from side to side. “How did I get talked into this? Coming here? I didn’t want to… I told her I didn’t want to come… but here I am. How does she talk ponies into doing things they don’t want to do? And now, you’re doing it. Just like her.” 

Sundance felt his feathers ruffle. Perhaps this ran in the family. He felt incredibly guilty, but didn’t allow himself to feel emotional right now, because he suspected that doing so would be detrimental. He was manipulating Paradox, and he knew it. He didn’t like it, but at the moment it felt more than necessary. Did his great grandmother ever feel this way when dealing with ponies? Was this the burden of rule? 

This sort of sucked and he didn’t like it. 

No, he didn’t like it at all and resolved right then and there to only resort to doing this when absolutely necessary. Every single one of his subjects were staring at poor Paradox, who stood squirming and twitching. She was in a bad spot, at the moment, and having all those eyes on her had to be intensely uncomfortable. What he had was a situation that needed to be handled somehow—he had to be the Baron, a wise, gentle baron, the sort of baron that would not mess this up and bring Princess Celestia’s wrath down upon his head. 

“I would never deny you access to the dining hall,” Sundance said to the crowd. “But I do ask that you give Paradox plenty of space and some quiet so she can sort things out. Perhaps sharing a meal together will make things better.” Then, he turned to Paradox. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You can let your cat out. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

Paradox’s lips pressed tight together for a moment, and then, rather reluctantly, she nodded. “I’m sorry…” 

“It’s okay,” he replied. “Now, come with me. I’ll give you plenty of space. As for you lot”—he cast his gaze upon his subjects—“go about your business. Get indoors. Get out of the storm when it comes. Or join us in the dining hall. Just remember… don’t stare, and give Paradox the time she needs to get sorted out. That is all.” 



 

Paradox Sunflower sat by herself in the corner, talking to her weird cat. The cat, like Paradox, had a patchy pelt with bald spots. Also, the cat appeared to be ancient—impossibly old. It was well beyond wizened and with a bit of imagination could be described as ‘zombie-like.’ Sundance kept an eye on her without staring directly at her. 

“That was some mighty good baroning,” Turmeric remarked. 

Sundance, lost in thought, did not respond. 

The dining hall was somewhat crowded, but only on one side, in one far corner, the one furthest from Paradox. Earwig sat with a group of oldtimers, discussing something amongst themselves that Sundance could not make out. Earwax was probably with Hollyhock, which meant one less thing to worry about. 

Wind blew in through the shutters that covered the windows and Sundance wished that they had glass. A massive roaring fire blazed in the clay and stone hearth, but it did little to warm the hall. It was a quiet time, almost too quiet, with no laughter. Outside, the weather had grown worse, but it was not yet raining. The spring squall promised to be a real doozy though. 

His back ached something awful, and parts of his wound were alight with a fierce burn. 

“Corduroy…” Sundance kept as voice as low as possible. 

“Yeah?” The big diamond dog hunched over. 

“Can you help her?” he asked, his voice still low. 

“That would depend,” she replied whilst she leaned in a little closer. 

“Explain.” 

“Well, the primary factor at work here is, does she want to be helped?” 

Sundance grimaced. “Sometimes a patient doesn’t want the infection lanced.” 

“Different metaphors apply here,” Corduroy said to Sundance as her ears fell back against her skull. “I can patch up physical hurts. Not sure how to go about doing what it is you’re wanting me to do.” 

“There is a little crystal tree outside,” Sundance said to his trusted nurse, “and I suspect that the next stage of growth depends on Paradox. Call it a hunch. Intuition. Princess Celestia doesn’t strike me as the frivolous sort, so if she sent Paradox here… talked poor Paradox into coming here perhaps against her will, then there was good reason. I’m betting that Princess Celestia knows something that we don’t. So we need to trust that this situation was set up for our advantage.” 

“That’s some mighty fine baroning,” Turmeric said, echoing his previous statement. 

“I pay the barony’s debts.” Sundance’s ears splayed out and formed a flat line with the top of his head. “Not all of them are financial. I need to make this right somehow. The previous Milord”—the sudden bad taste in Sundance’s mouth gave him pause—“was a right bastard. A lot of lives were ruined. So it falls on me to make this right.” 

“So… is this like… a friendship challenge?” Turmeric asked. 

This made Sundance pause and consider. How would Princess Twilight Sparkle go about this? Or Princess Cadance for that matter? Princess Celestia would foist this task off on others, for the sake of their own self improvement—but the unpleasant task would reap a fine reward. Princess Luna would sort this out through dreams. Prince Gosling would give a rousing sermon about finding common ground and shared perspective. 

But what would Baron Sundance do? 

“I have to earn her trust somehow,” Sundance whispered to his co-conspirators. 

“Easier said than done.” 

“Say, Corduroy, do you trust me?” 

The diamond dog let out a grunty growl, then replied, “I only trust those I can pick up. If you violate my trust, I can throw you a long, long ways. It’s reassuring. That’s the secret to my genial nature.” 

“Must be nice,” Sundance remarked. “So is that also the secret to your confidence?” 

“More or less. It comes with being a giant in a world full of tiny, throwable things.” 

Turmeric too, leaned in and joined the huddle. “I understand this is important, but I’m having a hard time understanding why. What is to be gained here? What is the point? What is to be accomplished? I’m new to this benevolent rule thing.” 

“Sundance has to be a better ruler,” Corduroy said in response to Turmeric. “Sympathy is a big part of that. Helping those in your care. It’s not so different than being a nurse, really. When you think about it. Paradox is an obstinate patient and Sundance has to somehow make a diagnosis with a patient who doesn’t want to talk. That’s tough. A nurse finds a way, though. And so will Sundance.” 

“I’m sitting right here between the two of you, you know.” 

Reaching out her paw, Corduroy gave Sundance a pat on his head, which made him roll his eyes. 

When she pulled her paw away, his ears rose and he cast a sidelong glance at Turmeric, who seemed to be looking right through Sundance. His expression was almost worshipful and for just a brief moment, Sundance felt a pang of what might have been jealousy. It was quickly dismissed though and he gave his headspace a swift sorting out. 

Off in her corner, Paradox poured kitty kibble into a small, pink ceramic bowl adorned with tiny blue fishes. Kitty kibble would be a problem; there was no corner bodega, no grocery store, no local pet store to replenish the supply. He hoped that Paradox had brought enough to last, at least until he was flying again. It was one more thing to add to the barony’s growing list of supply needs. 

Distant thunder rumbled and Sundance felt the fine hairs along his neck rise. 

“Corduroy, there is something you must do.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Teach me how to nurse.” 

“Say again?” 

“Everything you said just a moment ago. All of that about diagnosing a patient. Teach me how to nurse. That’s your job now.” Sundance looked up at his nurse and narrowed his eyes with the hopes that he could convey the unspoken parts of his message. 

“Uh… alright.” Corduroy looked away whilst folding her front paws together. “I would never throw you, you know. I’m a pacifist. Might be for the best to clear the air after that joke. Everything feels too serious right now. A bit too real.” 

“Wish me luck,” Sundance said to his companions. 

“What? Why? What for?” asked Turmeric. 

“I’m going to go have a talk with Paradox. Now, excuse me. Away I go, luckless.”
> The friendship particle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What made you come here? Why did you come here? How did she get to you?” 

Sundance was ill-prepared for the rapid-fire inquiries. He hadn’t even sat down, nor had he said anything. Paradox’s strange cat was looking up at him and something about the cat’s piercing gaze left him with a vague sense of unease. Mindful of his back, he sat down upon the wooden floor and did his best to look completely and utterly non-threatening. 

“She got to me. That’s what she does, you know. She lifts you up, boosts your ego, and I don’t know how she does it, but she makes you… forces you to believe in yourself. Some kind of confidence trick. That is, until the reality of the situation hits and then whatever spell she’s cast just wears off. At least, that’s what it feels like. I hate that she got to me. So how did she get to you? How did she wear you down? Which method did she use to con you into becoming a caretaker for this forsaken place?” 

The blunt-force questions left Sundance at a loss for words. 

“I can’t believe I’m here. Even more, I can’t believe that she got me excited to come here. Sure, I was hesitant, and I didn’t want to come in the first place, but then she buttered me up with talk about being a court wizard and somehow, she made it all sound so good. So enticing. She’s dirty, you know, and she cheats. If I was a more powerful unicorn that could cast greater ward spells, I could protect myself against inspiration-based vocal charms and then maybe, just maybe, all of her pretty words wouldn’t work so well on me. I’d have a chance to resist them.”

Suddenly uncertain of himself and how much free will he possessed, he took a deep breath. It was almost intimidating; Paradox was a whole lot smarter than he was. She had better schooling and from the sounds of it, a far better grasp of what was going on. This was not going to plan, not at all. He’d come over here to make her feel better, but now, he felt worse. How had things just been turned upside down? Was it time to retreat? 

Never. 

“Geiger tells me that you’re decent. I wish I could take him at his word, but…” Her words trailed off and whatever it was she was about to say was left unsaid. 

“He what?” Finally, some words came out, but not good words, no. Terrible words. The sort of words that made him look like an oaf. Hating himself a bit, his eyes focused on the zombie-like ginger cat for a time and then he looked Paradox in the eye, hoping for an explanation of some kind. 

“Geiger is my familiar. It’s how I managed to get into Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, actually. I cast a Find Familiar spell. One of Star Swirl the Bearded’s conjuration spells. I’m not a very powerful unicorn, but I seem to have a knack for conjuration. I cast the spell after straining hard enough to give myself a nosebleed and all of a sudden, POOF! Ginger kitten. He tried to hook Princess Celestia’s nose and he hissed at the admissions examiners.” 

Something that was almost a smile spread over Paradox’s face. 

“You have a familiar too, Geiger tells me. You have that magic about you.” 

“My owl?” Sundance didn’t like how the words he said came out as a question. 

“I’m sorry that I’m so moody.” Paradox’s faint hint of a smile turned into a scowl. “I don’t deal with pressure very well. Because of my sudden mood shifts, I’m not well liked. Nopony wants to put up with me or my anxiousness.” 

The cat was looking at him in a strange way. Maybe looking through him was a more accurate description. Geiger appeared beyond ancient, as though he shouldn’t even be alive. Yet, for his apparent age, he seemed to move just fine. At the moment, his tail swished side to side, and his whiskers quivered in some weird, wise way. Sundance had the distinct feeling that he was being judged, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Was the cat inside of his head? 

Anything was possible… 

“My mother and father didn’t want me coming here. I defied them to do Princess Celestia’s bidding. Now I feel insecure, and scared, and I keep wondering if my parents were right. I’m at that age where I do the opposite of what my parents say. What they tell me to do. But they’re angry with me. Just what am I doing here, anyhow?” 

Sundance gave Paradox a blank stare. 

“I want to be a great wizard,” Paradox said, almost whispering. “Like Trixie Lulamoon, or Dim Dark. Dim is my inspiration, actually. I’ve read all of his publishings. Memorised most of them and can repeat whole volumes word for word. Dim pioneered explosioneering, harnessing mundane forces of physics to enhance magical casting. I’m not so very powerful, but I’ve taken Dim’s methods and made them my own.” 

She sighed once, and Geiger rubbed his head against her foreleg. 

“Princess Celestia told me that wizards are measured by the tests they endure. As a yearly attendee of Wizcon and a real fangirl of the great wizards of our age, I knew that Princess Celestia was telling me the truth. The truly great wizards struggle their way into great power. She… she convinced me that this would be my struggle and that it would be here, in this place, that I would find greatness. And she said all these words at me and I got caught up in the moment. I want my shot at greatness and I’m not afraid to get dirty and earn it. But coming here… to this place… it feels like a mistake.” 

“Mistakes are just learning opportunities that we accidentally stumble upon,” Sundance said to the distressed young mare. 

“You sound like her when you say that.” 

“Well, we are related,” he replied. 

“And we are too.” Paradox’s expression turned dark and her eyes glittered with the hint of tears. “Your grandmother, Noonfire Shimmer, is the sister or possible half-sister of my mother’s mother. The records are spotty at best and unreliable. Sunset Shimmer, once Princess Celestia’s student, is of close relation. Only matriarchal lineage was put to paper and very little was mentioned about sireage.” 

“I know,” Sundance replied, as he nodded. “I ran into that problem when I was filling out the family tree and tracing my roots back to Princess Celestia. I wasn’t aware about you, though. High Noon the pegasus took up with several mares, one of which was Morning Blaze, and that’s how my grandmother, Noonfire Shimmer came about. High Noon was real popular with the mares and was reputed to be a sweet talker—”

“Can we not talk about that?” Paradox’s tone was pleading, and gave Sundance pause. 

“I’m sorry. Consider it dropped.” 

“Thanks.” Paradox, who squirmed in place, averted her gaze and stared off in the direction of the fire. 

“So why particles?” Sundance asked.

Now it was Paradox who wore a blank stare, but she was quick to recover. 

“We know almost nothing about them,” she replied as her expression both warmed and became animated. “There’s too much focus on magic and hardly any focus on the mundane. We know a fair bit about thaumatons and magic-infused particles, like Solestium and Celestium. But, by and large, common, mundane particles are ignored. Which is a sad state of affairs if you ask me. We unicorns are capable of particle manipulation. Creating light is just photon emission. Telekinesis is matter-manipulation, reaching out into the world around you and creating a chain of molecules that you send your influence through, like a telegraph wire. Magic works poorly in a vacuum, you know. Dim highlighted this fact with his vacuum void bubbles. I’ve seen a demonstration! When Princess Luna does magic out in space, it is theorised that she is causing spontaneous matter creation. It’s a great mystery.” 

Sundance blinked; it was a conscious action that he had to give some thought to. 

“Of course, it could just be that our understanding of space-magic is poorly understood. Not too many unicorns can get out into space for extensive testing. So everything is speculation. Everything we think we know might be wrong. That’s what I want to do with my study of particles. I want to change everything we think we know. I want to show that the mundane, natural world is every bit as important as the magic that we hold in such high regard.” 

After a moment of quick thought, Sundance said the only thing he could think of. “This is the perfect place for you to do that. Just be mindful of your duties. These ponies need you.” 

“And what, exactly, are my duties? Princess Celestia was vague on that point.” 

“I’m glad you brought that up,” he replied. “Give me a moment to gather my thoughts, and I’ll tell you…”
> Grandmother Oak
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The barony seemed to have a new life since the coming of Paradox Sunflower. Though it had only been a few days since her arrival, there was a noticeable change, one that could be felt and observed by all. She was adjusting, though it was a slow, sometimes painful process. The ponies of the barony, to their credit, were cautious and patient, which was just what Paradox needed. 

That first night had been quite rough, and the torrential downpour accompanied by the terrific thunderstorm made it all the worse. Paradox had a meltdown over a lack of privacy, and it was reluctantly, after many tears, that she tried Sundance’s suggestion of sleeping in the spare cargo crate. She balked, at first, cried a bit more, and made quite a fuss. Paradox wasn’t used to hard living, just as Sundance wasn’t used to hard living. The cold gnawed at her and the lack of simple comforts left her in a sorry state. 

But now, just a few days later, she seemed to be adjusting a bit as angst became acceptance. 

Much to Sundance’s surprise, the second cargo crate became a teeny, tiny bedroom and Paradox took it surprisingly—shockingly—well. She attacked it with her craft supplies and turned it into something disturbingly feminine, something glittery and peppered with sequins. Much of the third day was spent in artistic expression, rather than various states of sobbing, bawling, or blubbering. Paradox became noticeably calmer and a bit more evened out. Fuzzy pipe cleaners became a menagerie of animals on parade and she painted cheery, vivid watercolour backgrounds. 

Now, much to Sundance’s concern, she was eyeballing his crate. 



 

Standing atop an outcrop of rock, Sundance cut a regal silhouette as he surveyed the goings on down below. Turmeric and Paradox made short work of the bloodletting brambles, and did so with no real danger to themselves. The two of them turned a dangerous job into a boring one and now the only peril they faced was the hazard of boredom—a dire foe indeed. Boredom was a real threat to the barony; not so much to the peasants, but for the creatures new to living here. 

As for the orchard itself, it was in bloom. Trees once lost to the bloodthirsty brambles could now be tended. Birnen Streusel and Kant Apfel were already hard at work, pruning away old, dead, withered growth so that the new could grow in unhindered. This was long-term work, with long-term payoffs. He’d been told that they’d see little in the way of returns this year, but that each year after would be a little better than the previous. 

There were homes here, he’d discovered, old burrows carved into the ravine walls. They had been lost to the brambles, to weather, and decay. Once, the burrows had doors, windows, the very things that made a home a home. But those things had long since rotted away and now, animals called the cosy burrows home. It was important that he did not call them caves; Sauerkraut Pie had been quite adamant about that. These were burrows; earth ponies lived in burrows, not caves. 

Recovering the orchard was the first big step towards recovery. 



 

Stump the woodcutter—a pony of short, stumpy stature—was a hot, sweaty, breathless mess. He stood panting, and clearly had something to say, but had no breath with which to do it. Sundance, patient, waited for him, and did so with a kind smile. He was mindful to not look cross, or out of sorts, because the slightest sour expression caused upset among the peasantry. They wanted a pleased Milord, not one disappointed. 

“Sire,” Stump gasped, almost a wheeze. 

“Take a moment,” Sundance said, offering up a kind suggestion. “No hurry.” 

But the old, greying stallion continued, heaving out each word. 

“Sire, Grandmother Oak has fallen. Must have been the storm.” 

“Grandmother Oak?” 

“She was a big oak. Hundreds of years old. Sprouted in a crack of rock and grew out at an angle. Most of the roots were exposed. Whenever the crags flooded, more of the topsoil would get washed away and for the life of me, I have no idea how Grandmother Oak held on for all the years she did. But the rains finally did it, and she had nothing left to hold on to. She’s finally toppled over.” 

“I see,” Sundance replied. “Why tell me?” 

“It’s a lot of wood, Milord. She was ancient and hollow and her trunk would fill with water and freeze, which left her gnarled and twisted. But still a lot of good wood. A few winters ago, the hollow reached all the way down to the roots, which let the water drain out. Centuries have shaped her. Seems a shame to let her fall and rot. She gave us acorns to make flour.” 

“Just say what you want to do, Stump.” 

“I need a team to move her. We’ll drag her back and figure out what to do with her. She’s huge… an ancient giant… but she’s also mostly hollow, so we should be able to haul her home.” 

“Do what needs to be done.” Then, after some thought about what he had said, Sundance endured a moment of intense worry. “Do be careful. I don’t want you hurting yourselves over an old tree. No strained backs, or pulled muscles, I don’t want that to happen. Assemble a team of stout ponies, but do nothing that puts you in danger. You got me?” 

“Of course, Sire.” Stump bowed his head and this turned into a nod. 

“Put Privy Pit and Hoe Hum to work.” Sundance took a moment to consider what he was about to say, what it was that he was doing. “Lamp Black too. Those three keep leaving lewd, crude pictures painted on the rocks that upset poor Sauerkraut. Clearly, they’re bored and in need of something to do.” 

“Aye, Sire. Ol’ Lamp, I don’t know how he managed to talk those two into sitting down into bowls of paint, but he did. He’s got a slick tongue, that one.” Stump’s brows furrowed. “Leaves a mighty clear image when they push their backside up against the rocks—” 

“It does.” Sundance was forced to hold back a smile that threatened to undo him. “I don’t want Sauerkraut having a stroke, so let’s keep the troublemakers busy, alright?” 

“Right, Sire. I’ll see that they’re hitched up and made to work.” 

“Good. Thank you, Stump.” 

The old stallion smiled, a rare sight indeed. “Yer welcome, Sire. Back to work I go.” 

“Remember, I don’t want anypony hurt,” Sundance said as the old stallion hustled off at a brisk trot. “I don’t want our artists punished… just kept busy for a while so Sauerkraut can recover!” 



 

Corduroy’s cottage was now a functional infirmary, though it still lacked glass windows. A door had been constructed, and Acorn the packrat had rummaged around in his collection of junk to find a doorknob. This left Acorn in a mighty pleased state, because, by and large, his junk collection was considered worthless. 

Even a few pony-sized beds had been constructed and all they needed were mattresses. 

Sundance was astounded by the work that Corduroy had done. The fit and the finish of it all. Of course, what was a cottage for Corduroy was practically a castle for ponies. Above him, overhead, the bare, naked rafters were waiting to be adorned with herbs, bulbs of garlic, and whatever else might get hung up there. Turmeric’s herb drying rack hung in the middle, and it was a beautiful, but simple creation of shaped wood. 

“Look at this place,” Sundance said to his nurse. 

Corduroy nodded, but her gaze was floorward. 

“So much done in so little time.” Sundance angled his head to peer out the window. “How are you able to do all of this?” 

“We built houses for one another,” she replied. “The whole community. All of us. It’s just what we did. I spent my puppyhood learning construction, along with everything else. Way of life, I guess.” 

Focusing on Corduroy, Sundance noticed that she seemed out of sorts. “Is something bothering you?” 

“The floor—” 

“But the floor is amazing.” 

“Not really, no.” She sighed, a heavy sound, and gestured at the floor with her paw. “Stone floor. Lots of little gaps between the stones. It looks pretty, but it isn’t smooth. I won’t be able to sterilise this like hospital tile. It poses a risk. But then again, so do the walls. So does everything. But the floor… patients will spend a lot of time on the floor and less time on the walls. All of this”—she waved her paws around her—“is fine, I guess, but I wish for it to be better.” 

“It’s a start,” Sundance said to the discouraged diamond dog. 

“It is,” she replied. 

“Now you’re the one who seems glum.” Sundance took a step closer, but stopped short so he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck whilst he looked up at her. 

“This place gets to you,” she said, a bold statement. “It’s boring. There’s only work to keep one busy. Teatime is easily the most exciting time of the day. All of the work… so much work. And only work.” 

“Yeah…” Sundance’s response tailed off into a breathy sigh. What could be said? He was already painfully aware of this problem, but had no idea how to fix it. 

“It’s a lack of stimulation,” Corduroy continued as she waved her paws around. “Amber Dawn and Lemongrass cry from boredom. They need school. Lemongrass had a tantrum when I offered to read to him because all of the books have been read already. Complete and total meltdown. Even his mother couldn’t quiet him. Poor little guy is stressed out. His baby sister sleeps all day and then cries all night long.” 

“What do we do?” asked Sundance. 

“I have no idea.” Corduroy’s tail ceased to wag and sagged as her whole body slumped. “The thing is, we’re the ones who are unhappy. Just us. The ponies who’ve lived here their whole lives, they seem perfectly happy. Content. If I can be honest and blunt, I find them a bit annoying. They derive such simple amusements. Do simple things. They’re happy and I’m… us… you and I and the others who aren’t from here, we’re at risk of losing our minds. And then there’s Paradox… what do you think happens when the terminal boredom sets in for her?” 

“Uh…” Sundance, after considering Corduroy’s words, found that he didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it. Paradox was volatile, just like the particles she studied. “Shit.” 

“Shit indeed, Baron Pottymouth.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“Oh, come now. At least swearing breaks up the boredom. We could stand near the waterfall and make bad words echo ‘round the canyon.” 

“Would it make your day better?” he asked. 

“My day,” she began, and then she followed this up with a huge, deep breath. “My day… let me tell you about my day… I had to scrub paint-encrusted labias—” 

“No!” For some reason, Sundance squeezed his eyes shut, which did nothing to block out the words. His ears flapped up and down like frantic bird wings, but his ability to hear continued to function, much to his dismay. 

“Not only that, but I had to explain to them why they don’t want to sit in paint. Those two… they’re worse than puppies… foals. They looked at me like I didn’t know what I was talking about. And Grimer Patch… his chewing tobacco habit… I have half a mind to go and burn the tobacco fields down to the ground. Ugh!”

The mere mention of paint encrusted labias left Sundance eager to change the subject and to forget all about it. “So, the problem, as I see it, is that our growth poses a problem, in that outsiders have different expectations for entertainment. If we keep growing, and we will, because we have to, this is going to turn into a big problem for us.” 

No reply was made by Corduroy, who had gone still and silent. 

“Will you look at that!” somepony shouted outside. “Grandmother Oak!”
> A hollow heart
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was grey, and then there was Grandmother Oak. Never in his life had Sundance seen anything quite like it. Near the roots, it had to be almost three yards wide, and this narrowed to about two yards for the remainder of the trunk. It was a short tree, and the trunk was maybe a little less than ten yards in length. About two-thirds of the way up the trunk, it split open, a wide crevasse that revealed the hollow. Places where the trunk had shed its branches formed gnarled openings, windows for whatever creatures might have lived inside. 

At the top of the trunk were old wounds that had long since healed over, branches that had long ago fallen off and left behind scarred, greyed whorls of wood. From the looks of it, when the mighty trunk fell, the final surviving branches had snapped off, and three wounds with fresh wood could be seen. 

The earth ponies dragged the mighty tree carcass with an ease that was a testament to their strength. Slack-jawed, Sundance watched them, scarcely believing his own eyes. Aged though they might be, ancient as some of them were, these earth ponies had truly legendary strength, and he felt blessed to witness it. 

Bringing up the rear was Turmeric and Paradox, both of whom wore curious expressions. 

Everypony had stopped what they were doing and now gathered to gawk. 

The team came to a halt and then stood there wearing proud smiles. Sundance stared at Grandmother Oak as he came closer, and as he closed the distance, he felt a weird, unknown prickle in his wings. When the sensation became unbearable, he froze in place and tried to understand whatever it was he was feeling. Lost in thought, distracted by the sensation of pins and needles in his wings, he failed to notice Turmeric’s approach. 

“She speaks to me,” the dusky yellow unicorn said to Sundance. 

This caught Sundance off guard. “Speaks?” 

“Not with words.” Turmeric’s eyes darted to and fro as he hurriedly thought of how to clarify his statement. “Feelings. It’s almost like dreaming. I’ve been a unicorn my whole life but I’ve never really had a mystical experience. Not like this. The tree… she’s… shaping visions in my mind. How does a tree with no eyes know how to make me see?” 

Fearing what he did not understand, Sundance asked, “Is it dangerous?” 

“No!” The overwhelmed unicorn was quick to respond. “It’s full of magic. She’s full of magic. And she’s dying.” 

“Is she in pain?” asked Sundance. 

“I don’t think so?” Turmeric took a moment to glance up at the fallen giant. “She’s not relating that to me. The cycle is over. She’s gone from an acorn secreted away in a crack by an industrious squirrel all the way to mighty forest matriarch. It’s over now. The only part left of the cycle is the end. So much magic… my magic has never been this potent, ever!” 

Squinting, Sundance cast a sidelong glance at the crystal tree that stood in the middle of the box canyon. Then, still squinting, he studied the mighty fallen oak. There was strange magic at work here that he did not understand. Much to his dismay, it was impossible for him to understand, because he was not a unicorn. But Turmeric seemed to have had some kind of awakening, some encounter, some touch with mysticism that only unicorns could experience. 

“So many nests… so many young raised in the shelter of her branches, and later, in her hollowed out heart. Even as the moment of her death approaches, she thinks only of what she can provide… it’s so humbling, Sundance. I almost can’t stand it. The thoughts push their way through my mind and cut through the clutter. It makes me think about how selfish I am. But it also makes me feel good about myself. This is incredible.” 

Again, Sundance cast his gaze upon the crystal tree and tried to understand. 

Paradox clambered up into the hollow heart of the oak and paced the length of its interiour. His eyes went from the crystal tree to the pacing unicorn, to the crystal tree, and back again. Yes, something was happening, he was certain of it, but being a pegasus he felt shut out from whatever enlightenment that was happening. The land here had its own magic, he’d been told that in so many ways by so many ponies. There was his own bond with Owlister, a connection that defied his ability to comprehend. 

“The oak is one big focusing conduit,” Paradox said from within. 

Ears drooping, Sundance had no idea what a focusing conduit was, and was frustrated by his utter lack of understanding. Some of the earth ponies were now rubbing themselves against the wood and amongst the gathered herd, he spotted Lemongrass, who struggled to avoid being caught underhoof. The unicorn foal wore a peculiar expression and his eyes were almost glazed over. 

Extending his wings, Sundance bent his neck to have a look at them. 

Alas, mystical influence was not something he could see—though the sensation in his wings could be felt. It was almost an annoyance, more than anything. A steady, unending prickle, sort of like when he slept on his side wrong and his wing went to sleep. He flexed his wings, examined his primaries, but his eyes, his gateway to understanding the world, could tell him nothing. 

He would have to find some other way of experiencing meaningful, mystical magic. 

“This shall be my home,” Paradox said as she peered through a gnarled knothole. “It’s just a tower that lays on its side, really. The magics in the wood suit me. Turmeric, can you shape the wood?” 

“I… don’t know,” he replied, his voice almost hitching. “Shaping wood… I’m not that good at it… but this speaks to me.” 

“Grandmother Oak is like a giant wand,” Paradox said to Turmeric. “The trickle of magic flows like a river through this wood.” She paused for a moment, chewed on her lip, and looked down at Lemongrass. “It will be easy to teach magic. The flow and ebb will lend itself well to instruction. Princess Celestia told me that the land will give what is necessary. It seems she was right. As always.” 

Sundance, somewhat bitter that he could not experience this in a more meaningful way, sensed opportunity. Looking up at Paradox’s face, which was framed in the knothole, he asked, “Would other unicorns be attracted to something like this? I mean, like visitors—” 

“Do you mean tourists?” Paradox’s face vanished from the knothole, and a moment later she could be seen standing in the wide opening that she had climbed into. “Or unicorns who might want to live here because of the tree?” 

“Uh…” Sundance gave it some thought before he replied, “Both?” 

“Any magic done in the vicinity of this trunk will be stronger by a magnitude. Not just unicorn magic, mind you, but earth pony and pegasus pony magic as well. This is a precious asset.” Paradox seemed different somehow, more confident, and her voice wasn’t as meek as usual. She almost seemed as though she was about to say something else, but then she rubbed her cheek against the old grey wood, which left behind a smear of dirt on her vivid orange hide. 

While Sundance did not understand magic, he knew that Paradox was having a wizard moment. Rather than be upset over what he could not feel, what he could not share, he chose to be happy for her. Coming here to this place was hard on her, and she had found something that gave her life a bit of needed meaning, some purpose. He hoped it would be enough to smooth over some of the rough edges. 

And—if Sundance was lucky—Lemongrass might get a passing magical education. 

“We’ll need to lay out a foundation of gravel,” Corduroy said, taking charge. “Otherwise, the wood will rot into the ground. Proper drainage will be important. That crack that runs down the side, we’ll face that upward and build a cupola over it, and have some windows so that light can get in. The end with all the roots… those can be woven together and closed off, I think. If Turmeric is up for it, that is. As for the other end, I’m pretty sure I can connect it to a stone tower. Not a big one, just a useful space for books. More like a really tall bookshelf.”

“Foresee any big problems, Corduroy?” asked Sundance. 

“A lack of insulation,” she replied. “But that’s true of almost everything here.” 

“Where do we put it?” somepony asked. 

Floodgate was quick to reply. “Drainage will be important, just like Corduroy said. There’s bedrock on the rise next to the waterfall basin, the flat area that leads to the outcropping of rock where the Milord’s tower once stood. We can even dig out a cellar into the canyon wall. Corduroy’s claws will make short work of the granite and that will give us the gravel we need.” 

“Hmm.” Sundance’s jaw muscles went taut as he turned his head to look at the rise mentioned by Floodgate. 

It was a raised area, had a natural earthwork ramp that led up to it, and it was from the rise that one climbed the steep slope to reach the old tower—which was no longer there. A keep had once stood in that area, Cucumber had told him that, and now, with all of the changes, it seemed fitting to rebuild there. Having a home on the rise would give Paradox access to the promontory, the high overlook, which would no-doubt be beneficial. 

If there was another owlbear attack, she could rain down wizardly destruction from up there. 

After a moment, Sundance became aware of the fact that everypony was staring at him, waiting for some kind of response. Well, everypony and everydoggy. Even Paradox did so, and seemed anxious as she fidgeted in place. It occurred to him that this was a major decision. Something that would affect the barony long term. He eyeballed the rise and tried to imagine what a small keep would look like built on there. As flat as it was, as perfect as it was, he realised that a lot of work had gone into what had once been a foundation. 

A fortified keep was no longer a necessity. 

“Help me out here,” he said to Corduroy. “If we built this hollow log house up there, there’d still be room for another dwelling or two, right?” 

The diamond dog did not reply right away, but her keen eyes seemed to be measuring the available space. After what felt like a few minutes, she replied, “We’d have to have the trunk close to the canyon wall, but not too close. We need good drainage, so the wood won’t stay wet. If we place the trunk along the back edge, with part of it beneath the overhang, we’d use less than half of the available space. Something else could be built up there. Have something in mind, Sundance?” 

“Yes,” he responded, but he did not reveal his plans. “What about the tower?” 

“Well, if we put the rooted end under the overhang, the tower should fit right there, on that corner. Wouldn’t look too bad, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Sire, a good project is just what we need,” said Floodgate. 

“Yeah!” Pea strode forward, his harness chains rattling. “A project.” 

Rocky Ridge moved to stand beside Pea, and her chains rattled as well. “I’m in the mood to pound gravel.” 

“Very well then,” Sundance said to the gathered crowd. “Corduroy, you’re in charge. Do whatever is necessary, because I know absolutely nothing about this stuff. Make this happen. No rush, no hurry, and don’t do anything to strain or otherwise hurt yourselves.” 

Much to his surprise, a rousing cheer could be heard from the gathered crowd. 

Corduroy lifted her left paw. “Let’s get to work, ponies!”
> Hootenanny
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was something that almost felt a lot like momentum now. With lunch finished, there was the afternoon to look forwards to—but afternoons were too short and the sun set far too soon. Sundance wasn’t sure how Grandmother Oak would make it up to the raised foundation, but he trusted that his subjects had a plan. They were smart and capable, when left to their own devices. 

A drainage trench was currently being marked out, a shallow, sloped depression that would be filled with gravel, clay, and fine sand. This would be the base foundation for Paradox’s future home—a home that seemed to be the very heart of the future of the barony. Grandmother Oak, a dying tree, was almost worshiped. How strange it was, that a tree could die and be aware of it. Stranger still was a tree that caused dreamlike states and shared memories with a lewd, spice-named unicorn. 

As for the rampant mysticism which ran amok, Sundance satisfied himself with his owl, which looked more and more like an owl with each passing day, and less like a pincushion. Owlister had feathers now, with speckles and splotches of colour. Such rapid growth entranced Sundance, but then again, he only had his pony-perspective concerning growth and aging. 

“Do you feel the magic of the tree?” Sundance kept his voice low as he asked his question. “What can an owl feel, anyhow? How much has your connection with me changed you? Are you something more or less than an owl now? I imagine that owls live in the moment, with no awareness of time. Is your connection to me a blessing or a curse?” 

Owlister let out a rather reassuring hoot; which is to say, Sundance found himself understanding the very nature of said hoot, and its intention. He thought of his grandmother’s stories about pegasus ponies that could talk to animals and wondered if perhaps this was an aspect of Princess Celestia’s bloodline. His family had magic; some might even say deep magic, and his mother had a powerful stare. 

More and more, Sundance found that he could talk to owls, but could not wrap his mind around how it was possible. Was this what Turmeric meant by experiencing a mystic moment? To have something inexplicable and mind boggling happen, something that defied explanation? Something beyond mere science? Paradox clearly spoke to her cat, and Geiger evidently had some strange power of telepathy. 

What about Owlister? 

“Owlister, how well do you understand me when I speak to you?” 

In response, the owlet hooted, and then made a chirring sound by rattling his beak together. Sundance contemplated this reply, not understanding its meaning, only that it was some manner of acknowledgment. He felt tiny claws gripping his scalp, mindful claws that did not sink into his flesh. Some kind of test was in order, Sundance decided. 

“Owlister… summon the other owls, so that I might address them.” 

Sundance felt silly saying it, but a test was a test, and knowing the outcome might prove useful later. He sensed annoyance from his animal companion, and felt something that was almost a stream of thoughts, something about broad daylight and how rude it was to be awoken at this hour. But Owlister obeyed, and raised a ruckus. 

The owlet hooted and made irate, indignant owl noises that defied description. This lasted for but a short time, as once another owl woke up, then that poor soul transferred the call, and this owl—unseen—was a whole lot louder than the wee owlet. Within moments, the box canyon echoed with an owlish cacophony, a bewildering sound of irritated, annoyed owls roused from their slumber. The Greater Equestrian Shrieking Owls lived up to their namesake, and their discordant screams of axe-murdery fury consumed the air, which left the sounds of a peaceful afternoon utterly destroyed. 

Burrowing owls emerged from their burrows, the nooks, crannies, and crevices of rock they called home. Greater Equestrian Shrieking Owls took to the air, each of them making quite a hullabaloo to rouse their fellow owls. All around Sundance, the air was filled with the sound of flapping, hooting, and terrific axe-murdery screams. There were so many owls that the sky darkened, and a shadow was cast over the barony. An army of owls answered the call, and vast swarms of them landed upon Grandmother Oak. 

As for the peasants, some of them freaked out, and understandably so. 

But the owls kept coming. Owls from outside the box canyon flew in, a never-ending stream of predatory insomniacs. They landed on roofs, on Grandmother Oak, on every available surface. Soon, the barony was crowded with owls, and still, they kept coming. Tiny burrowers, big burrowers, horned owls, owls of every description and variety. Even owlcats and owlcoons could be seen among the incoming teeming masses of owlkind. 

Thankfully, no owlbears. 

“What have you done?” Paradox shouted as she took cover inside Grandmother Oak. “What power is this? Who are you that you command the owls? Does Princess Celestia know about this development?” 

More owls kept coming. 

A parade of owlbadgers could be seen atop the waterfall, and they moved together in a huddled formation. Sundance could scarcely believe what he had done, and he understood why Owlister was annoyed with him. To call the owls was serious business. Now, thousands of solemn, feathered faces eyeballed him and Sundance realised that these creatures had come to the call of their baron. 

“Argh! What magic is this?” shouted Paradox as teeny, tiny burrowing owls invaded her sanctum within Grandmother Oak, and she was forced to dance around to avoid stepping on them as they crowded her legs. “They just keep coming!” 

It was at this moment that Sundance knew that he had far, far more subjects than just the ponies of his barony. These creatures, they were loyal. He could feel their thoughts, which were somehow relayed through Owlister. The owls were wise, just as the old folktales said, and they were harmonious. But the hybrids however—they were discordant creatures, chaotic and disharmonious, though they were still willing to serve, to obey. 

His previous encounters with the owls of the barony had not turned out like this. 

Lifting his head, he studied the crystal tree, which had to be the cause of all of this. Some of the ponies were trying to shoo the owls away, but to no avail. Corduroy waved her arms about as a persistent owl attempted to roost upon her head. Fluffing out his feathers, Sundance addressed his subjects, confident that they would understand him. 

“This was only a test. My apologies. Please, disperse. Know that there might come a time when I call upon you. Thank you.” 

The dismissed owls did not budge. No, more owls kept coming, the sleepy stragglers and those from farther away. Sundance felt a mental barrage pressing in on his mind, a vast multitude, a collective, The Great Shared Hoot. It was somehow both alien and familiar, strange and reassuring, but it was something that could not be understood, only experienced. 

Out of all the ponies and the one diamond dog present, Sundance concluded that something set him apart; he was a pegasus among earth ponies. The land had a connection to the earth ponies, the diamond dog, and even the unicorns, but he was a creature of sky. So, it stood to reason that the land connected to him through different means. Though not a smart pony by any stretch of the imagination, he was proud of his own mental gymnastics and the conclusion he had reached. 

Since he had their attention… 

“I don’t want another owlbear trying to eat my ponies,” he said to the gathered multitude. “If an owlbear comes too close, I want to know. Or anything else for that matter. If I’m not here, tell Paradox. Or tell Geiger so he can tell Paradox. Never again do I want to be taken by surprise.” 

The hooting and shrieking went echoing through the box canyon in response. 

He found he had more to say, and did so. “Let it be a crime to bring harm to the owls and owl-like creatures that watch over us. Do nothing to offend them. Treat them as you would Princess Celestia’s soldiers, with kindness, reverence, and respect. Let them stay in your houses, allow them to roost in your rafters. Do not shoo them or make any attempt to banish them.” 

At this, Paradox appeared quite distressed. 

“Let us work to restore our greatness, together. As one. Owls, work with us, and you will be counted among our number. With us, you have safety for your young. Within our fields, you will find food. We have more to gain from working together. Let mutual survival be our way.” 

After a moment of quiet reflection, he asked Owlister, “Do they understand me?” But the question was moot, pointless. Even as he spoke the words, he knew. The answer was already evident. 

The land provided. 

Somehow, the land provided. 

Since the crystal tree had sprouted, things had taken a turn for the weird. Now, Grandmother Oak had joined them, and though he did not understand the magic involved, he did understand that it had purpose. It was as if the barony itself had awakened, and was now marshalling its forces. The ponies, the earth ponies that lived here their entire lives, those who refused to abandon the land and had endured the worst, were now revitalised. The evidence was obvious, easy to see… why, even Sundance could see it plain as day, and he wasn’t the smartest pony. 

With the owls and his subjects staring at him, the vast multitude of eyes, Sundance had something of an epiphany about his position. As baron, The Baron, he was the speaker for the land. It didn’t need a ruler, it needed a coordinator, somepony who would respect and obey the will of the land. If he continued to do right, the land would provide. The crystal tree was proof of that, a signature on a contract. 

He’d signed that contract with his own blood, which had soaked into the soil. 

Closing his eyes, Sundance reveled in the moment and basked in the glory of the owls.
> Off to a rocky start
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Comfortably seated at the head of the table, Sundance wondered what was for supper. Nothing had been brought in yet, but he suspected that he knew what would be served. There wasn’t much variation, and while the food was hearty, it was also uninspired, simple, and of course, bland. Such was the way of things, at least for now, and there was no point in complaining. Once he could fly again, he would venture out to find delicious foodstuffs that would satisfy his cravings. 

Soon, there would be fresh foods again, and that would help. The potatoes were old, a bit mealy, the withered survivors of a long winter. While they weren’t appealing, they were mostly edible and were filling. Everypony longed for fresher fare—but Sundance craved something breaded, deep fried, and artery-clogging. Or tacos, or something wrapped in a tortilla and maybe fried. Anything. 

At least there was cheese; pale, runny, somewhat bland goat cheese that he was starting to get a taste for. When there was nothing else, they were satisfying in a strange sort of way. After a few bites, one would notice the faint pungent flavour, and each bite after was spent hoping that said flavour would bloom into something worthwhile. But ultimately, the goat cheese was something of a disappointment. Perhaps because they had no dedicated cheesemaker. 

Blessed were the cheesemakers. 

The dining hall was packed, but not everypony was here yet. For Sundance, it felt as though he was back in school, sitting in the cafeteria. Only now, he was one of the cool kids, and not a colossal dork that ate his lunch all alone in the corner. Which was a massive improvement, all things considered, a tremendous upgrade in how life treated him. For a moment, he wondered how his tormentors fared, and the faint spectre of a smile could be seen lurking on his muzzle. 

No more teasing, no more jeers, no more shoving in the hallways, no more swirlies—because he was a baron. The Baron. No one would feel the humiliating sting of a swirly in his demesne, mostly because there were no toilets. Not one nerdling would find themselves stuffed into a locker—because there were no lockers. 

While reminiscing and wincing, haunted by his memories of school, Sundance also thought about how the barony could use a few nerds, but he wasn’t sure if they’d survive the conditions. Paradox was adjusting, but she wasn’t happy. Corduroy was arguably a nerd, or maybe a geek, and while she was coping, he knew from speaking to her that the cracks were showing. But a fragile nerd, the sort of pencil-necked nerdling that did, in fact, get stuffed into a locker, they would find the living conditions downright intolerable, as there wasn’t a single comic book store for a hundred miles or more. 

As for movie theatres, not a one, though Sundance did try to make shadow puppets with his wings. 

“Amber Dawn is missing!” 

Sundance’s reaction was almost hawklike as his head swiveled around. 

Hollyhock stood in the doorway with Earwax. She had red, bleary eyes, and it looked as though she hadn’t slept in quite a while. The newborn was wrapped in a blanket and slung from her neck. Lemongrass clung to her leg and his expression of frantic concern matched his mothers. Sundance was on his hooves in an eyeblink. 

“I think she slipped away after the commotion with the owls,” Hollyhock said, her words slurred from exhaustion. “She’s missing and the sun is already behind that mountain where Canterlot sits.” 

“I have a find spell!” Paradox blurted out. “It even works… most of the time.” 

“Most of the time?” Sundance’s eyebrow arched in a manner reminiscent of his distant alicorn grandmother. 

“Well, sometimes, things take measures not to be found—”

“That’s not helpful right now.” Sundance gestured at Hollyhock. “A mother doesn’t want to hear that when her foal is missing.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking that one through, sorry. I tend to focus on the academic. My bad!” Paradox scrambled up into a standing position, but she was slow and sluggish. 

Realising that Paradox was spent from a long day of labour, Sundance cringed. Corduroy rose as well, and he was relieved to know that he could count on her. When Turmeric stood up, Sundance gave him a gentle shove to make him sit back down. 

“Turmeric, you’re in charge while I’m gone. The sun will be setting soon, so do the rounds. Be reassuring. See to it that everypony’s needs are met. Be a calm voice of reason if panic sets in.” His steely gaze focused on Paradox, who squirmed. “Cast that find spell. Make it work.” Then he gave his final command to Corduroy. “Grab your bag and whatever supplies you might think we’ll need. Grab a torch, because it’ll be getting dark soon.” 

Sundance brought himself to his full height, which wasn’t much. “As for the rest of you, have supper. Try not to worry. Please trust that I’ll take care of this.” 

“Good luck, Milord,” somepony said. 

“Good hunting, Sire!” 

“Can a diamond dog sniff out a missing pony?” somepony asked. 

“I can,” replied Corduroy. “My sniffer is pretty darn good.” 

“Then Amber is as good as found,” Fallow Fields remarked, and he seemed to visibly relax. 

“What about my magic?” Paradox, miffed, tossed her head about. 

“You said yourself that it don’t always work—” 

“Oooh! I meant that in a general sense! In an academic sense, because—” 

“Enough!” Sundance snapped. “We need to be going. Now. Precious little daylight is left. No more talk, it’s time for doing. Now, let’s go! Corduroy, grab your gear!” 



 

Corduroy was loaded down with rucksacks, an immense coil of rope, and a small brass lantern shaped like a yawning housecat hung from her belt. She seemed prepared. As for Paradox, the young mare was fidgety, flighty, and clearly frightened. Of what, he wasn’t sure. Fear of letting him down, perhaps, or letting down Princess Celestia. Maybe fear of failure. Paradox struck him as the anxious, high strung type that didn’t take failure very well. 

“We barely know each other and here we are, going on an adventure, and I’m not keen on this—” 

“Why is that, Paradox?” 

“You, mostly,” she replied. 

“Me?” Sundance thumped the base of his neck with his hoof. 

“You.” She nodded. “You’re a male. That scares me. And ten-zillion terrible thoughts are racing through my mind right now, each of them worse than the last, and I—” 

“Look, Corduroy is with us, Paradox—” 

“It doesn’t matter! My anxiety doesn’t work that way! I can’t shut my brain up! There’s no off switch. You’re a male. You have authority. And I have all of my mother’s memories and trauma. We’re oil and water, Sundance. I’m terrified right now.” 

Rather than be angry, or annoyed, which would only make things worse, he took a deep breath and held his tongue. Anger and frustration would accomplish nothing. If anything, it would only make her more afraid of him. He stood still, his breathing slow, steady, and he tried to muster up some empathy for Paradox. 

“Which way do we go?” Corduroy asked. 

“Give me a moment,” Paradox replied. After a few seconds of turning this way and that way, she pointed eastward. “That way. Towards the orchard. Think she went to the orchard to go play?” 

Sundance considered this for a time, and nodded. “That seems likely. If I was her, I’d want to go explore the orchard too. Will thinking like a foal help?” 

In response, Corduroy shrugged. 

Not willing to let the subject drop, Sundance turned to look Paradox in the eye. “You have to learn how to trust me. I’ve won the trust of everypony else here. You and I, we’ll sort this out later. Right now, you need to show me that you’re worthy of being the barony’s court wizard.” 

Paradox’s eyes turned glassy, and her lower lip quivered. For a moment, it seemed as though she would start crying, but the flood never came. She sniffled a bit, her lip still quivered, and with a downcast expression, she replied, “I can do that. You can trust me to do that.” 

“Good.” Sundance pulled his commanding gaze away so Paradox could stop squirming. “Now let’s go find us a filly and get her home. Come on, both of you. I wish I could fly right now. Searching from the air would be so much easier.” 



 

The well-worn path was covered in fresh crescent moon-shaped divots. Many had walked this path recently, and Sundance hoped that his keen eyes might spot the smaller hoofprints that Amber would certainly leave behind if she came this way. The grass here was tall, inviting, and filled with wildflowers in bloom. It was just the sort of place that bees would find paradise. 

“We’re close, but also far,” said Paradox in a hitching, uncertain voice. “I don’t understand it.”

Though annoyed, Sundance didn’t feel the need to pressure her, or make this worse somehow. The poor young mare was running around in panicked circles. Meanwhile, Corduroy was sniffing around, plucking blades of grass and holding them up to her nose. Early evening shadows had grown quite long as twilight settled in over the land. 

“If I walk in the direction of the orchard, my magic tells me to come back here. But she’s not here! Why isn’t my magic working? Why? I don’t want to go back to the others and look stupid. But I am stupid! Why isn’t my magic working? Stupid magic… I lack power. Why does my magic have to be so weak? It’s frustrating! Why isn’t my find spell functioning properly?” 

“Amber Dawn, if you are hiding somewhere, and having a good laugh at us, you’re going to be in huge trouble, young lady.” Sundance’s eyes narrowed, and his ears pivoted around in search of sound. 

“That’s not going to coax her out of hiding, you know.” Corduroy, who was hunkered down in the grass, gave Sundance a cool, calm stare. “Some of the clover has been nibbled on. It’s sweet. Smells like her, though I’m not sure if she’s the nibbler. But she was here, and not that long ago. Scent is still fresh.” 

Lifting his head, Sundance turned his keen eyes on the trees, with the hopes of spotting Amber Dawn. She was greyish in colour, and had a brown mane, so he knew that she’d be difficult to spot if she was hiding in a tree. Maybe she’d climbed up somehow, and was now stuck, unable to get down. That would be pretty embarrassing, and she might be fretful about calling for help. 

Just a little while ago he’d been thinking about school. 

“Over here,” said Corduroy, while waving. 

Beckoned, Sundance hurried over and halted when Corduroy raised her paw. She pointed at a vast patch of gnarled roots, a place filled with all manner of gaps and crannies, just the sort of place where a foal might want to explore. In the middle of it was a hole. It looked as though some of the dirt had been washed away by a recent storm and had perhaps revealed an animal burrow, or some such thing. 

With her claws, Corduroy pulled away the gnarled, lumpy roots, and in doing so, revealed a much larger opening, as well as a hard stone edge. Not one stone, but several. Stone blocks. The diamond dog made short work of the roots and dirt, and in no time at all, a rectangular opening could be seen, along with the remains of a stone foundation of some sort. Mossy, slimy stairs could be seen. Well, once they had been stairs, but the passage of time and the decaying touch of nature had turned them into something else, something not-stairs. 

“Don’t go shouting,” Corduroy said, speaking each word with soft grace. “We don’t know what might be down there. Look, something hit there, and there, and there, and then I can’t see any further down because it is too dark. Hopefully, Amber has the good sense to be quiet, just in case something calls this place home.” 

“What is this place?” asked Paradox. 

“Appears to be some sort of cellar. The stairs going down curve in a spiral and there’s a wide open shaft down the middle, from what little I can see. Can’t see how far, though. If she fell, she might be hurt. We need to be quiet and stealthy if we go down there. No telling what might call this place home.” 

“Foals are told from an early age to be quiet and hide if they’re in trouble.” Paradox peered down into the hole while she also chewed her lip. “Calling for help might get you eaten. That makes finding lost foals hard.” 

Sundance sniffed and there was something that was almost vinegary amongst the musty air that rose out of the ancient cellar. It made him want to sneeze, but he fought against the powerful, compelling urge. Corduroy smelled it too, because her nose was crinkled. Paradox lifted her head away from the opening and snorted in disgust. 

“The roots grew over this place, and over time, dirt got packed in. There was a door here, you can still see some of the rotten wood. Looks like it gave way, though, and collapsed into splinters. The old iron hinges are just rust dust now. I’m thinking that the recent storm loosened the dirt and Amber took a tumble when she came this way.” Reaching into the opening, Corduroy scraped off a bit of moss and slime with her claw, and then she examined the fresh disturbance she had made. 

Sundance could see that the other marks looked just as fresh. 

“If you look, you can see how the water flowed down the stairs. You can see the erosion. In the winter, this water froze and broke the stairs apart. Stuff grew in the cracks. I can see fungus and lichen and all kinds of stuff. I wonder how sunlight got in there?” 

“Corduroy, how do you know all of this?” 

“Well, Paradox, a dog has got to know hole-stuff.” 

“Oh. That makes sense. So, how are we going to get down there without breaking our necks or our legs? Those stairs don’t look safe.” 

“I have rope,” Corduroy said in her typical matter-of-fact way. “You… the both of you are tiny, they call you little ponies for a reason—” 

“Oh, let me be the first to say, I don’t like this plan,” Paradox said to Corduroy. “It involves me being lowered into a gross, dark, slimy pit. I don’t like this plan at all.” 

“Duly noted, friendo.” Corduroy’s triangular ears pricked. “But you have the horn, which means you have a light source, and Sundance does not. So you not liking the plan is largely irrelevant, because I am going to tie you up and lower you down. And if it is safe, with safe being a relative term, you will untie yourself, and then I’ll lower down Sundance. After he’s down there, I’ll climb down the rope. Hopefully we’ll find Amber, and she won’t be busted up too much from the fall.” 

A loud gulp was heard from Paradox, and a lump could been sliding down her throat. 

“Is something wrong?” Corduroy asked. 

“She doesn’t want to be down in a dark hole, alone, with me.” Sundance cast a sidelong glance at the anxious unicorn beside him. 

“Yes!” squeaked Paradox in an ear-piercing shrill voice. 

“Well, that’s just tough.” 

Slack-jawed, Sundance was startled by the sheer callousness of his nurse. 

Ears limp, Paradox looked up at the hulking diamond dog. “I beg your pardon—” 

“Do your job,” growled Corduroy, “and sort yourself out on your own time. Don’t be stupid. Do you really think that Sundance is going to be uncontrollably frisky down there, in the slimy dark, with a filly to find?” 

“But I—” 

“Shut up.” Corduroy held out her paw. “Just shut up. Do your job.” 

Paradox tried to say something, to respond, but all that came out was a squeak. She nodded, pranced in place for a bit, and then turned away when she became teary eyed. Sundance gave his nurse a hard, flinty stare, but he wasn’t sure what to say, much less how to feel about the situation. Corduroy had a side to her that was pragmatic, practical, and he wasn’t sure what to think. 

But all of that would have to be sorted out later.
> A grue to-do
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last words said to him before he was lowered down were: “Be mindful of your back and be nice to Paradox. If I’m hard on her, and you’re nice to her, well… you’re smart enough to understand how this goes. Growly dog, waggy dog.”

Indeed, he was, and he was thankful once more that he’d found Corduroy. 

Below him was murky water, Paradox Sunflower, and what appeared to be a large pulley of some kind. The remains of some kind of hoist perhaps? A means to raise and lower large, heavy objects up and down the shaft? Just how deep was the shaft, anyhow? All of his senses felt wrong, off somehow down here in the depths. Old, rotten rope could be seen in a messy pile, along with spongy, rotted timbers, which might have been the remains of the door that Corduroy had mentioned. 

Having a better look at it, the coiled mess of rope seemed like a fairly soft place to land. 

Paradox pulled him from his makeshift harness, levitated him to a level spot free of debris, and set him down. As she did this, the rope was already being hauled up, and Sundance, mindful of Paradox’s anxiety, did his best waggy dog act while he waited for Corduroy to shimmy down the rope. To keep himself occupied, he tried to make sense of the mess down here, but he did not move so that his hooves would not splash in the shallow water. 

“There’s light down here,” Paradox said in the softest whisper. “Over there, through that door. See?” 

After waiting for his sight to adjust, Sundance peered through the doorway. Whatever door had once existed here was long gone, but the arch survived. The stonework was beautiful, and the capstone had a sunflower carved into it. Beyond the door was writhing shadow—and light, just as Paradox had said. All the hair on the back of his neck rose as he wondered; why was there light down here in these dark depths? 

Light implied the living… or occasionally the not-so-living. 

“Paradox… cousin… if something tries to eat us,” he whispered to his relative, “you explode them real good, you understand?” 

“Gotcha.” The response almost couldn’t be heard, because it was so softly spoken. 

It was like a refrigerator down here compared to the other caves to be found in the barony. The barn cave wasn’t exactly warm, it was cool and dry, but it wasn’t cold, not like this place. His nose burned and his eyes watered from the stench of vinegar, which was all that could be smelled down here. It even covered the smell of rot, which seemed like the sort of aroma one might encounter in a place such as this one. 

Corduroy dropped down between them with hardly a sound. The muffled splash was almost unnoticeable and the big bulky dog was remarkably stealthy. She held one paw over her nose and Sundance could see tears streaming from her eyes, one blue, one pink, which almost seemed luminous down here in the dark. 

“Don’t let the lights go out,” Corduroy said to warn her companions. “Mister Teapot says we’ll be eaten by a grue.” 

“There’s lights down here.” Paradox pointed with one soaked, soggy hoof through the doorway. 

“Oh?” Corduroy leaned forwards, hunched down low, and squinted. 

“Shit.” Sundance hissed the word and wished he was somewhere else right now. 

“What a wonderful assessment of our current situation, Baron Bedpan Mouth. Any further adroit observations about our situation you’d like to share?” 

“Corduroy”—he kept his voice little more than a mere whisper—“you called me that on the first day we met.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

It was Paradox who asked the important question. “Hey, who goes first?” 

“Corduroy?” Sundance suggested. 

“I’m a pacifist,” the diamond dog replied. 

“You’re a nurse,” the frightened unicorn countered. “Give them an emergency headectomy. I hear it’s the only effective cure for stupidity.” 

In response, Corduroy snorted and Sundance found himself smiling. 

Understanding what had to be done, Sundance drew in a deep breath and puffed out his barrel. It was daredevil time, time to do danger, or have danger done to him. This situation demanded a leader, but a leader was nowhere to be found, so he would have to do. While he wasn’t the smartest creature down here in the murky, slimy depths, far from it, he was canny. 

“Corduroy should bring up the rear,” he said to his companions. “She’s our nurse. We need her in good shape when we find Amber. That’s our first priority. Paradox, we need you protected, because you’re our best light source and our explosive expert. Which means that I go first. If I get chomped, you can blast whatever is chomping me, and Corduroy can patch me up.” 

“That’s…”—Paradox hesitated—“logical.” 

“That’s why I’m the Baron.” 

“Well, go on then, Grue-Bait. Lead the way.” Corduroy gestured at the doorway. “Be very, very quiet. Don’t step on anything sharp and pokey in the water.” 

Looking down, a new fear arose in Sundance’s mind, one that left him quite shaken. 



 

“You know,” Paradox whispered, “just a moment ago, you first suggested that Corduroy be out front. Now, she’s bringing up the rear. What happened?” 

Sundance did not reply; he felt no need to explain himself. After a short jaunt down a flooded hallway fetlock-deep with filth, he found himself at a three-way intersection. The hallway straight ahead had faint light, but the left and right hallways were dark—dark as a tomb was a terrible description, but apt. His ears pivoted in search of sound, but it was as quiet as one, too. 

Looking straight up, Sundance saw smoothed stone, solid and unyielding. The walls however, were stone blocks. Had the walls been constructed in some kind of cave? Was this pony made or a natural cavern turned into a cellar? Ignoring the sensation of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm his senses, Sundance chose left. If they were going into some kind of maze, going left seemed wise. Just keep turning left. 

Or was it right? 

He couldn’t remember. 

“I think I remember an Ogres & Oubliettes module that started out like this,” Paradox muttered in a voice that almost couldn’t be heard at all. “We’re in the oubliette right now… I hope we don’t find ogres. That’d be baaaad.” 

The hallway was maybe as wide as a pony was tall, which is to say about a yard or so. But it was rather tall, for pony construction. At least two yards tall, maybe more. Sundance tried to make sense of it and paused when he came to the first support arch. Just like the doorway in the first room, this had a keystone that had an elaborately carved sunflower. Beyond the arch, the hallway widened a bit, an almost triangular shape, and abruptly ended in two doors out where the triangle was widest. 

These doors on the far wall were rotten, but still intact. Sundance noticed that the bottom halves of the doors were more rotten than the top halves. The light cast from Paradox’s horn revealed rusting grey iron hinges, and door latches that sat low on the bottom half of the door, something easily kicked open with a hoof. A door designed for ponies. With his companions crowding him, Sundance chose left again, and headed for the left door. 

Would it open? 

More importantly, would it open quietly? 

“Wait.” 

Corduroy’s low warning made Sundance freeze. 

“Over here.” 

To the right of the archway where they had entered, what appeared to be a bronze plate hung on the wall. It was teardrop shaped, and had a sunflower up in the narrowest part. Corduroy held up her cat-shaped lantern to shine light on the words written below the sunflower, and Sundance crept closer so that he too, could have a better look. 


Royal Wine Reserves. 
Do not enter for any reason. 
Trespassing is a week in the stocks. 
Theft punished by hanging from the neck until dead.

 
Well, that was grim. Sundance glanced at his companions, and concluded that they were all thinking the same thing as him. Technically, they were trespassing. He wondered if there were any alarms of some sort, and if so, if they still functioned. Having Princess Celestia suddenly appear might be as amusing as it was interesting, at least until they were securely locked into the stocks, and then whatever comedic value the situation had would dwindle fast. 

“What if my nose itches?” asked Corduroy. 

“I’d scratch it for you, with my magic,” Paradox offered. “If I had magic, that is.” 

“Can a baron pardon himself?” Sundance, having asked what he thought was the important question, cast a sidelong glance at his companions. “Or would it be better to spend a week in the stocks to prove I am not above my subjects?” 

Saying nothing else, Sundance broke away and headed right for the left door. If there were alarms, and if those alarms still functioned, having Princess Celestia show up would be a boon. Raising his hoof, he gritted his teeth, summoned his courage, and then pressed his hoof against the door latch. 

What happened next was surreal. 

The door crumbled. Well, the bottom half of the door, anyhow. Ancient, spongy timbers turned into dusty, splintery crumbles, as if by magic, and the latch disintegrated into rust flakes. Stunned, Sundance stood, wide-eyed, and try as he might, his brain failed to register this absurd outcome. Paradox slogged through the muck to stand beside him, and she too wore a startled expression of astonishment. 

“All those plops…” Paradox’s voice was a trembling, almost fearful whisper. “It’s like turds hitting toilet water. That awful, awful sound. Followed by the embarrassing realisation that the filly in the stall next to you heard everything. And then, when you walk back into class, everypony is snickering at you. I hate it. Why must my past haunt me so?” 

Moved by the awkward moment, Sundance went to comfort the distressed mare, because, what else could he do? “Paradox, I—”

“Don’t touch me.” Paradox’s stern whisper froze Sundance in place. “I was endlessly teased because I couldn’t make a silence spell work. All the other fillies called me ‘Tinkleturds’ and it was awful, just awful.” 

Since nothing could be done, Sundance peeked beneath the door and had himself a look at the room beyond… 



 

Barrels, dozens of barrels, all of them stacked from floor to ceiling. Each of them were in various states of decay, with the ones on the bottom the most rotten of them all. Some of them had collapsed like the putrid corpses of decomposing pumpkins, left out for weeks after Nightmare Night. At least, that was what came to mind when Sundance looked at them; he couldn’t fathom how his companions might describe the scene. 

The vinegary reek in this room was unbearable. 

Other than rotting old wine casks and cobwebs, there was nothing to be found. Princess Celestia’s private reserves had seen better days—just like everything else in the barony. It occured to Sundance in a moment of rare brilliance on his part that the tall ceilings allowed Princess Celestia to come and inspect her wine collection without banging or snagging her horn on the ceiling. 

Since nothing else could be done here, Sundance backed out so that he could resume his search. 



 

Back at the intersection, Sundance turned left again, this time towards the light. This hallway was longer, from the looks of it, and crumbling doors could be seen on both sides. Upon reaching the first door, he waited for Paradox to catch up so he could have a look around. A small storage room with shelves—a pantry of some kind, perhaps. It was empty, but a quick examination of the room gave Sundance ideas about cold storage. 

The door on the other side of the first held a nearly identical room, also empty. 

He strode past the deserted, forgotten rooms, each of which were about three yards wide and three yards deep, just basic, boring cubes. None of the rooms had anything of note, at least nothing he could see with a quick, cursory examination. Just ahead, he saw the source of the light; a glass globe on a brass fixture. Not a lightbulb, but it was a bulb with light inside, at least, sort of. It wasn’t electrical, but magical—that was his guess. 

That it still functioned left him stunned. 

“There,” Corduroy whispered as she pointed. “Look at the wall. Fresh blood.” 

Sundance looked and didn’t like what he saw. Just a few inches above the murky sludge, a fresh bright red smear of blood left a garish stain on the stone wall. All manner of horrible images bubbled in his imagination, and he hated them all. If something had hurt her, he would… well, he didn’t know what he would do, because he didn’t know what he was capable of. Recently, he had sunk a splitting maul into an owlbear’s skull, and he was still rather surprised that he was capable of such violence. 

He was a pegasus, an ancient warrior race, and his own warlike nature frightened him. 

But if something had hurt little Amber Dawn, he would gladly explore the depths of his bloodthirsty, brutish ancestry, until such a time he knew and understood what he was capable of. He had himself a bad case of the adrenaline jitters, and his hammering heart slammed against his ribs as if pounding upon the drums of war. 

Head low, teeth bared, his eyelids twitching over now-bloodshot eyes, Sundance advanced into the murky darkness.
> Down in a hole
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hall ended with a smooth curve that turned left. Even in his current dreadful state, as distracted as he was, a part of Sundance’s mind admired how the stone blocks formed such a smooth, perfect curve. The modern world seemed far less beautiful by comparison, with everything hurried, rushed, and constructed by the lowest bidder. It was as if the stone blocks flowed together. Perhaps they had been shaped with magic. 

He seemed to cross some invisible barrier, because it went from a chilly cold to a comfortable, pleasant warmth. This made him pause, with his front half in late spring, or early summer, and his back half in late fall, early winter. At the place where he had stopped for a moment, he could see faint, flickering light ahead, but could not see around the curve. 

What a curious place this was, with the controlled temperature. 



 

Rounding the curve, a great many things came into view all at once, but only one of them was of any importance to Sundance. A vast round room with a domed ceiling was just ahead. The ceiling had a mosaic made of thousands upon thousands of tiny fragments. Overhead, two alicorns, one white, one blue, danced around a stylised image of the moon and sun, both halved, and pressed together to form one celestial body. It was breathtaking, a priceless treasure of unfathomable wealth, but Sundance completely failed to notice it. 

The old rotten furniture was a mere shadow of its former glory. Tapestries hung from the curved walls, tapestries that time and civilisation had forgot. They displayed wondrous images from Equestria’s celebrated history, or had at one time, but now they were faded, tattered, and consumed by mildew. Sundance didn’t spare them a single glance. 

What captivated his attention sat upon a stone table that dominated the room, a ginormous stone table fit for feasting lords and ladies. Amber Dawn sat on the table, hunched over in misery, and when she saw him, a pitiful moan could be heard, followed by agonised blubbering. She had been silent this whole time, waiting, consumed by pain. The realisation of it all was heartbreaking. 

But now, in safe company the floodgates had opened. 

The stout little filly was bloodied and filthy. One eye was completely swollen shut, her face was covered in a mask of caked, clotted blood, and one ear was a raw, half-scabbed mess. He went to her as fast as his hooves could carry him, and scrambled up onto the stone table with her. Rivulets of filthy sludge ran down his legs and pooled upon the flat, smooth, flawless surface of the table. 

She reached for him, he reached for her, and as he sat down, he pulled her close while also being as gentle as equinely possible, due to her fragile, battered condition. Her stubby forelegs wrapped tight around his right foreleg, and even in her frightful condition, her strength was an impressive distraction. Looking down, he saw that her left hind leg was misshapen and swollen in a way that made his heart pound painfully against his ribs. 

When Sundance lifted his head, he saw Corduroy standing right beside him, leaning against the edge of the table. No expression could be seen on her face, no pity, no kindness. If there was any feeling there at all, it had to be flinty resolve. There was a soft thump as the diamond dog pulled one of her rucksacks free and set it down upon the table. 

“Well, she’s alive,” Corduroy remarked in a stoic deadpan as she went to work. 

Placing one paw beneath the filly’s chin, Corduroy lifted as she leaned down to examine Amber’s face. This allowed Sundance a chance to get a better look, and he didn’t like what he saw. The sight of it made him feel sick to his stomach, and a part of him wondered if this is what his mother felt when she worried about him. 

“There’s a big hole in your lip,” Corduroy said with calm objectivity. “Did you land on your chin?” 

Amber’s head quivered, which was acknowledgment enough for Corduroy. 

Paradox, cringing, leaned in a little closer to have a better look. Meanwhile, Corduroy took advantage of the light from Paradox’s horn to continue her examination. The nurse’s every action, every movement, were ones of impressive gentleness, and the busted-up little filly practically leaned into Corduroy’s comforting touch. 

“Your teeth went right through your lip.” Corduroy squinted, her triangular ears bobbed, and her head tilted off at a leftward angle. “You tumbled down the stairs and bounced a few times, I think. Amber, I need for you to be very, very brave, because I need to check out your leg. Can you be brave for me?” 

Squirming, Amber let out a keening wail and shook her head no while trying to tuck her legs as close to her body as she could. Sundance felt sickened, his stomach heaved in such a way that he could taste bile in the back of his throat; this nausea was made worse when he and Corduroy exchanged a bit of unspoken communication with one another. Nothing had to be said, he knew what had to be done, and he knew that he had to do it without causing further harm. 

The foreleg he had around Amber’s middle went stiff as he gave Corduroy a nod. 

When the nurse touched the lumpy, swollen lower left extremity, Amber screeched, then shrieked, and then screamed so hard that she was overcome with blood-flecked coughing. Sundance held on to her, somewhat fearful of her strength, but he turned his head away as Corduroy pulled the misshapen leg out straight, because he could not bear to watch. 

After a moment, Corduroy said, “It’s not broken. I can’t feel any sharp edges, there’s no grinding, it’s just swollen. She probably just gave it a bad turn when she landed on it. So that’s one less thing to worry about.” 

Amber’s coughing turned into pitiful, heaving, gasping sobs that made fresh blood trickle from the hole in her lip. Corduroy stood up straight, her paws akimbo, and the nurse’s face was still an emotionless mask of objectivity. Paradox on the other hoof, was sick with worry, and she chewed on her lip so hard that Sundance worried that she too, might also end up with a hole in her lip. 

“It’s all contusions, scrapes, and a few lacerations,” Corduroy said. “At least, near as I can tell. I’m shocked, really. Earth ponies are tough and this one is lucky. Sweetheart, can you talk to me? Can you say anything at all?” 

Amber sat for a moment, her barrel heaving, and Sundance could hear air whistling through the dreadful hole in her lip. The awful sound made his guts twist and he was now far more sympathetic to his mother’s concerns. Then, the battered filly shook her head while clinging ever-tighter to Sundance’s leg. 

“Well, that’s fine. I was hoping you could tell me how you fell and what you hit. But that’s fine. Don’t worry.” For the first time, emotion could be seen on Corduroy’s canine face. A sort of soft sympathy could be seen in the wrinkles and fuzzy folds. “I don’t want to move you with your leg like that, so I am going wrap it up and sling it against your tummy. That way, it won’t be bounced and bumped around when we get you out of here, so we can take you home. Will you let me do that?” 

Sundance heard the filly sniffle a bit, and then she nodded. 

There was a lesson here, he realised. Corduroy had done what was truly necessary, and she did so without asking. Sometimes, it was important to act, and to do so right away. The leg examination was something that had to be done, and was done without asking. But now, with what was necessary over, Corduroy was asking questions and giving Amber a chance to answer. As he held tight to the wounded foal in his care, he allowed his mind to wander, which helped his nausea subside a bit. 

“This is a temporary bandage,” Corduroy said as she pulled out a sealed tin container. “Just enough to immobilise you so we can keep you safe and comfortable. When we get home, I’m going to clean you up and scrub you, and when I’m done, you’ll get a brand new, fresh, clean bandage. But for this temporary bandage to work, I need you to hold as still as possible, so I can do what needs to be done.” 

As Corduroy opened up the sealed tin, Sundance took this chance to distract Amber. 

“You’re a rough, tough little girl, you know that?” He looked down at her and fought back a fresh wave of queasiness. “After you fell down a hole, you somehow got yourself to a safe, warm, dry place, and you waited. You were totally quiet and you didn’t even cry until we got here. That makes you tough—” 

“And lucky,” said Corduroy as she tore the packaging away from the roll of white gauze. 

“She… she… she…”—Paradox stood there, stammering, and distress could be seen on her face—“she trusts him so much.” 

“Well, why wouldn’t she?” Corduroy responded while shoving the wrapper into her open rucksack. “Sundance is the closest thing that poor filly has to a father. Don’t you trust your father?” 

At these words, Paradox seemed stricken. Her mouth opened, then closed, opened again, and closed once more. Ears sagging, nostrils flaring wide, Paradox took a step backwards and then said, “No. I don’t. But I wish I did. I did, once… when I was little. But then I tried to know my mother’s pain. She was sleeping, my mother, and I… and I… I used my magic…” 

The young mare gulped. 

“I used my magic… I wanted to understand so I could help my mother.” Paradox took another step backward, then another, and her hooves splashed in the shallow, murky, vinegary flood. “I was successful. Too successful. Saw everything. Felt everything. Experienced everything.” 

Again, Sundance found himself caught up in Corduroy’s gaze, but this time, he did not understand the unspoken communication between them. Paradox, now turned away, had gone silent. Where Corduroy’s face had been an impassive mask during her examination of Amber, Sundance now saw something else in his nurse’s face, something that pained him. 

“Sometimes, little fillies are too brave for their own good.” Corduroy was now looking down at Amber Dawn with a kind expression that was also rather sad. “They go off exploring and get hurt.” The diamond dog focused her soul-piercing gaze upon Sundance once more. “Thankfully, the world is full of heroes that go off in search of them so they can be rescued.” As she spoke, her eyes darted off towards Paradox’s direction several times. 

Sundance was mystified by all of this, and he had no idea what to do or what was expected of him. 

“Okay, first, I’m going to wrap up your leg a bit, and then Sundance is going to let go of you so I can make a few wraps around your middle and secure your leg. I’ll try to be gentle as possible, but this is going to hurt. If you are still and don’t fight me, this will be over quick and won’t hurt as much.” 

Much to Sundance’s surprise, Amber nodded, and he felt her redouble her grip around his foreleg. Almost overcome with emotion, he looked up from the tiny filly in his care and glanced in Paradox’s direction. She stood a few yards away, face towards the wall, and she sobbed in silence. How could he help her? He could barely begin to understand what she had done, but like Amber, she had gone exploring and fell down a hole. Now, she was in some awful, deep, dark place, waiting for a rescue, very much like Amber. 

Corduroy smiled. “Thankfully, we live in a world full of heroes. Like my hero, Mister Teapot.”
> Under pressure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

To say that the night was long was an understatement. In fact, trying to describe the night at all seemed far too difficult a task at this early morning hour. It was a night, one quite unlike any other, and now, in the hours just after dawn, Sundance was trying to sort everything out. In his current sleep deprived state, his thoughts were sluggish, his mind slow, but he did not feel sleepy, not in the slightest. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever sleep again. 

During the impossibly long night, Amber Dawn had been stitched back together. Dozens of stitches in dozens of places, the most notable of which were her lower lip, her ear, just below her swollen eye, several places along her left side, and one particularly nasty laceration on her croup. Somehow, Corduroy worked without tiring, without fatigue. She displayed no signs of exhaustion until well after her task was finished. Corduroy had turned back into the stoic nurse that he’d seen in the cellar, the solid, reliable stone. Even after she allowed the exhaustion to show on her face, Corduroy remained awake until she was satisfied that her patient would be fine. 

Corduroy’s infirmary was a bit chilly, as it had no source of heat just yet. The cold stone floor was warmed by the rays of sun that peeked through the now-opened shutters. Hollyhock, her newborn, Amber Dawn, and Lemongrass were all piled together on a thin, insulated sleeping mat laid across the wooden bedframe. Of course, the newborn had cried all night, and had only quieted just recently. 

Yawning, Corduroy wiped her eyes with the back of her forearm and then licked her lips while she cast her sleepy stare upon Sundance. “Get over here. Let me have a look at your back. It’s healing up pretty fast. Some fresh body spackle might be needed.” 

Hearing the words ‘body spackle’ caused Sundance to wicker. That stuff stung. Poor Amber had the awful stuff smeared all over her, from hoof to ear, and she had howled piteously the whole time. He eyeballed the door for a moment, and then thought better of it. If he ran, Corduroy would give chase, for such was her nature. She seemed to know what he was thinking, too, because he saw her scowl. 

“Get over here,” Corduroy grumbled beneath her breath. “You spent all of last night telling Amber how brave she was, and now you’re a fraidy-horsie—” 

“Hey, that’s hurtful.” He dared to give his nurse a wounded, reproachful stare. 

“Keep your voice down, ponies are trying to sleep.” 

Desperate, he tried a different approach, the noble one. “You should get some sleep. I’ll keep watch. You can look after me, later, when you’ve had a bit more sleep.” 

This did not have the desired effect, not at all. The big dog scowled, her jowls quivered, and her perky, triangular ears angled forwards in a universal display of aggression. Again, he eyeballed the door, and this time, when he returned his attention to his nurse, he saw her shaking her head from side to side—not as a ‘no’ but as a warning. 

Then, at that moment, the devious daredevil that existed within the depths of Sundance’s mind suggested that he make a break for it. Just go! Make a run for it! But Sundance, to his credit, was quick to dismiss this foolish notion, and he obediently trudged over to the spot where Corduroy stood so that she could examine him. 



 

“Parts of you are already almost healed—” 

“How?” asked an incredulous Sundance. 

“Body spackle. Stitch magic.” Corduroy did not continue to elaborate. “Just a few spots that need more time. The really bad rends that went right down to the bone. No more bandages except for in a spot or two. The wounds could stand to be aired out.” 

Turning his head completely around to look at his nurse, he asked the question that weighed the heaviest upon his mind: “Can I fly yet?” Before the words were even finished, he saw her scowl and his heart sank. 

“I’d say no. Give it a few more days. Maybe another week.” The scowl softened and became more of a grumpy frown. “You’re worried about getting fresh supplies in.” This wasn’t a question, there was no hint, no sign of the required punctuation lingering in the air, just a hard stop. “Truth be told, I’m worried about it too. I’m running low on a few things myself. We’ll manage.” 

Too tired to argue, Sundance turned his head to a more natural position and looked out the window. The ponies of the barony were busy making a foundation so that Grandmother Oak would have a comfortable place to lay. Rocky Ridge was pounding out a cellar from the solid granite and producing a steady stream of fine gravel with each crushing, smashing blow. 

She was old now, Rocky Ridge, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what she could do when she was young. Old as she was, she still worked at a blinding pace, with her pistoning forelegs blurred from movement. As he watched, he felt something of a mood swing coming on, and he turned away as he braced himself. He was tired, but far too awake, far too worried, and his many concerns weighed heavily on his mind. 

“Paradox is well-loved,” Corduroy remarked. “I think that’ll be good for her. Everypony is eager to do as Paradox says and I think that’s good for her. Boosts her confidence. You and I, we need to find a way to help her.” 

“Can she be helped?” 

“Sure.” Corduroy, who kept her voice low, let heave a sigh. “But that would mean a trip to the Crystal Empire, or finding a good therapist in Canterlot. Let’s face it, that’s not going to happen, she was sent here for a reason, so it falls on us to do whatever is necessary.” 

“So… what is necessary?” he asked, fearing whatever answer might come. 

“No idea.” 

Corduroy’s brutal honesty forced Sundance’s eyes open and he looked at his nurse, who was now staring out the window. Something about the fact that Corduroy didn’t know something unnerved him. He spent a moment studying her, an attempt to learn how to read her face and her strange canine expressions. 

“I’m a country nurse, trained by a navy doctor. Everything I know is about homespun solutions, practical applications of common sense, and doing whatever is necessary. My skill set is an excellent match for most of the ponies here. With the exception of Paradox. There’s wounds there that I don’t know how to patch up. You and I have something in common, Sundance. We both have to adapt and face the unknown.” 

Everything about Corduroy’s words were reassuring for some unknown reason. She was right, of course. He had to learn to be a baron, and she had to learn how to fix strange new wounds. It was a dangerous matter of trial and error for the both of them, with high stakes. Failure meant real consequences. Looking out the window with Corduroy beside him, Sundance could almost feel the warm flame of kinship between them, and was comforted by their shared troubles. 

“You’re my most trusted advisor, Corduroy,” he said to her, whispering. 

“I know,” she replied.

“That’s like, your job title. I thought you should know. Most Trusted Advisor. I’m glad we met, Corduroy. I can’t believe how stupid I was… how foolish. I almost let prejudice ruin something I didn’t know I needed.” 

Reaching out one broad paw, Corduroy tousled Sundance’s mane, and then stroked his ears. He leaned in a little closer, glad for her touch, and wondered what Princess Twilight Sparkle would have to say about their friendship. He yawned; this surprised him and caught him off guard. 

“I think I need a cup of tea,” he muttered. “I can feel the hooliganism coming on…” 



 

All that time spent in his room, or in a library, or in the bowels of some imposing stone monument to bureaucracy had left him ill-prepared for what he faced now. Long stretches of solitude with brief moments of interactions, with those exchanges being face to face conversations with dry, stuffy bureaucrats, recordkeepers, and the like. Looking back on it all, Sundance could see that there was an issue, and that was that he lacked the coping mechanisms to deal with all of this stress. 

Even his delivery work was mostly solitary in nature, going from place to place, always on the move. It wasn’t a social job, though it had some social elements. But now, at this time, at this moment, as he sat with his head hunched low over his steaming cup of tea, all he could do was think about all of the relationships he juggled, and how each of them affected him in some way. 

But, he wasn’t completely unhappy… and something about this puzzled him. 

“Yer Grace,” Earwig said to him to get his attention. “You look troubled.” 

“Yer Grace?” As he lifted his head, everything around him came into sharp focus and the sudden assault on his senses was almost too much to bear. He blinked a few times, drew in a deep breath, and recovered himself. 

“Why’d you do it?” asked Earwig. 

“Do what?” 

“Go a-gallivantin’ off to save our precious chatterbox.” Then, after a moment, she asked, “Does the big fancy word sound like I’m putting on airs? I’ve been listening in at story time. So, why’d you do it?” 

Sundance wasn’t sure he liked this line of questioning, at least not at the moment. One eyebrow arched and he felt his stomach muscles go tense. “After I rescued your sister, you’re asking me why I did this?” 

“Fair question, Yer Grace.” Earwig folded one foreleg atop the other and leaned against the edge of the table. “You saved my sister because yer not an asshole. But with Amber, you could have sent your underlings to look for her. You have underlings now. There was no good reason to go yerself. You’ve already proven yerself to us. So it’s got me a-wondering… why save the little gabber? A fella goes off and saves a mare’s foal, and common sense says that he doesn’t have to work too hard to get a bit closer to that mare, if you know what I mean, and I think you do, Yer Grace.” 

After a good snort, Sundance’s ears folded back against his head and got lost in his unruly, unbrushed mane. 

“Just saying, you wouldn’t have to try very hard. I mean, this is the nice way to go about it. No unpleasantness, no force, no nastiness. It’s nice to see. I think they called it… chivalry?” Earwig’s eyes darted about, going from left to right, before returning to Sundance. “Hollyhock is the only mare about your age for miles and miles around. She’d be happy to help you ease yer tensions, unless of course yer not picky and didn’t mind sharing a bed with an older mare—” 

“No!” 

“Aye, no offense, Milord. There’s no shame in lusting after youth and beauty.” 

“Earwig, I…” his words trailed off into a gasp. 

“Sire, it’s a practical matter,” Earwig began, and then, after a deep breath and a smile, she continued: “We’re all old and settled in our ways. For us, it’s no real trouble. We look after our needs and we don’t leave anypony out in the cold, ‘cause that’s heartless. But you… near as I can tell, you don’t take to nopony, and you don’t crawl into their bed… though I did think that you and that Turmeric fellow might’ve fooled around—” 

“Earwig, I,” he said again, but as before his words failed him. 

The straightforward mare unfolded her front legs and leaned over the table so that she might look Sundance right in the eye. “It does work, right? I mean, yer peasant prod goes hard, don’t it?” 

“Well, of course it does,” he snapped, and then he was immediately sorry. Face on fire, his cheeks hot and far too dry, he turned away. 

“Sire, we’re worried about you. ‘Tain’t natural. Having a go is like breathing. And yer not breathing. You seem bored and out of sorts, like yer in need of a good sorting out, and since you’ve been so good to us, we worry about you. See, there’s a difference between what is freely given and what is forcibly taken. You have but to ask—” 

“Thank you, Earwig.” Sundance suffered a mighty, mighty cringe. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, could we talk about something else? Anything else? Please?” 

“Can we talk about Hitut the elephant?” The middle-aged mare seemed eager. “It’s a great story. The little ones love that book, and I do too. I look forward to storytime, it’s great!”
> A moment of Quiet reflection
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The immense airship in the distance had a roaring drone that rivaled any angry dragon. Sundance, who’d been woken up from his nap in the infirmary, now watched as the ship approached. It came from the west, and the setting sun was behind it. From where he stood, he could see that it was one of the newer designs, at least the placement of the airscrews. Four of them in total, two up front, with two in the rear, all of which were on pivots and allowed for excellent steerage. As for the ship itself, he’d never seen anything quite like it. The airship was longer than a high-rise tenement was tall. Longer, really. As long as a skyscraper, perhaps. Maybe even longer. With the sun behind it, and seeing it head on, it was hard to tell. 

It was a strange ship, with modern airscrew placement and an old soft nacelle. 

He knew next to nothing about airships, but liked to watch them when they came to port in Baltimare. Equestria’s martial supremacy was owed to its airships, which were said to be the best in the world, due in no small part to shared research agreements with some other country that he couldn’t recall at the moment. He couldn’t tell if this was a military airship, and truth be told, he didn’t know a corvette from a cruiser. But this one sort of looked like what he imagined a frigate might be, or perhaps a freighter; he couldn’t remember which one was which and confused the two. 

“That’s done up in Princess Luna’s livery,” Turmeric announced as he squinted westward. “You can see the dark blue and silver. Hard to imagine that’s not some kind of gunship. Why do you think it’s stopping here?” 

The roar came to a sudden end and the silence that followed was almost deafening. 

“Is it stopping here?” asked Corduroy. 

“Seems to be,” Turmeric replied. “It’s slowed down and dropped in altitude.” 

“I invaded Princess Celestia’s wine cellar.” Sundance’s jaw firmed for a moment, and he shook his head. “Could be that they’ve come to collect my head for that trespass. Perhaps I won’t go quietly.”

“Well, it was nice knowing you,” Turmeric said to Sundance. “Fare thee well, sweet Baron.” 

With the sun just behind it, the airship was large enough to cast its own patch of darkness. Sundance thought about laughing at his own joke, but was too tired, too fatigued to do so. Whatever strength he had left would probably be needed for whatever came next. The big ship was almost silent now as it drifted closer, and for the first time, he noticed movement on deck. Just how many ponies could a ship that size hold? A hundred? A thousand? He had no idea. 

“Holy alicorn shit”—Turmeric’s outburst caused Corduroy to growl—“that thing has to be at least sixty feet wide! What’s a ship like that doing here? I mean, just the fuel bill alone for pulling out of port would be astronomical!” 

“Quick,” said Corduroy to Sundance. “Stand up straight. Look noble. Wipe that smirk off your face. We’ve got company incoming. Flyers inbound!” 



 

Sundance was puzzled by the stark-white alicorn wearing ornate armor, but was glad to see Nuance and Corbie. He watched as the trio approached and couldn’t help but notice that the alicorn wearing ornate guard armor was a lousy flier—such a terrible flier that there was no way they had been born a pegasus. And then, after a bit more thought percolated through his sleep-deprived brain, he concluded that this was no alicorn, but a pony with magical wings. 

A pony desperately in need of flight lessons. 

Corbie was the first to land and when she caught a crossdraft, he worried that she’d get flipped over. The portly filly didn’t fly so very well and from the way she panted, he could tell that she was out of shape. Nuance, held aloft in a bubble of glittery magic, cringed as his sister made a clumsy running landing and with a cry, she came to a skidding halt. 

Overall, it wasn’t a bad landing, and it was one she’d walk away from. 

A few seconds later, the flying guard came down hard, his heavy armor clattering. Sundance winced, but did not turn away as the guard just plopped down. There was no running, no stumbling, no nothing of that sort, just a hard, brutal impact. At least Nuance wasn’t jostled, and was set down mere seconds after the crash. After a moment of recovery, the guard gave themselves a shake, which, again, caused a cacophony of clattering. 

“Solar Olive, you told me that you’ve been working on your landings!” Nuance said as he hurried away from the armored guard. 

“I have,” was the gruff reply from the guard. “Why do you think I didn’t smash into the ground face-first?” 

There was a visible shudder from Nuance, who now stood near his sister. But the young unicorn was quick to compose himself, and with a charming smile, he turned to offer greeting. “Baron Sundance. A pleasure to see you. The Gringineers have arrived, as promised.” 

“A bit late in the day,” Turmeric remarked before Sundance could say anything. 

“Oh, that.” Nuance’s smile vanished and his ears splayed level. “We’ll be setting up through the night so that tomorrow, not an hour of sunlight will be wasted. We’re scheduled to spend a week here, but that could change, depending on circumstances.” 

“Good to see you, Nuance. Corbie, are you okay?” Sundance took a few steps closer to the two foals, and as he did so, Olive pulled off her helmet. 

“Outta breath,” Corbie panted as she leaned against her brother. 

“You’re sweaty and gross!” Nuance tried to get away from his sister, but she clung to him with moist unpleasantness. “Away with you! Away with you, I say! Olive, help!” 

“Did you steal cookies from the commissary?” Olive asked. 

“No.” Corbie’s ears stood up straight and she did not meet Olive’s stern gaze. 

“Corbie—” 

“I did not steal cookies,” the filly said to her guardian.

Sundance watched as Olive rolled her eyes, the sight of which caused him to smile. “Good to see all of you. Welcome to the Sunfire Barony.” 



 

“Baron Sundance, there is somepony I want you to meet.” Nuance was nervous as he introduced the weird filly that stood beside him. “This is Quiet Dark—”

“Your smoochy-smoochy filly friend,” Corbie said in the annoying manner of sisters everywhere. “Smoochy-smoochy!” 

Somehow, to his credit, Nuance held it together, and Sundance held his smile in check. 

“Since I am doing community service, Quiet and I get to spend time together.” Nuance ignored the kissy-kissy smoochy-smoochy noises that his sister made and kept his eyes focused on Sundance. “Quiet, this is Baron Sundance. A friend. I’ve made a friend. Are you proud of me, Quiet?” 

“Charmed,” Quiet said, and she flashed a smile that gave Sundance quite a fright. 

Embarrassed, he was quick to recover, but something about Quiet Dark unnerved him. Her teeth… she had a terrifying toothiness. Big, broad, triangular teeth. A shark’s grin. She was no mere, common earth pony, as evidenced by her teeth. Then, he noticed her swishing tail, which looked as though it belonged on a lion. Was Quiet… a juvenile sphinx? He couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t remember if sphinxes had wings or not. She was terrifying, but also unflappably polite. 

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Nuance wore an eager expression as he looked up at Sundance. 

“Oh, she’s an exotic beauty,” he replied and much to his relief, the nightmarish sphinx-creature laughed. 

Standing on the deck of the massive ship, Sundance did his best to relax. Corduroy was peering over the rail, with Turmeric right beside her. The deck was crowded with ponies, griffons, diamond dogs, and even a few minotaurs, all of which seemed incredibly young. Sundance figured that they all had to be younger than him—secondary school age, perhaps. Fresh recruits, maybe, and this might be their first assignment. 

“We’ll be testing some new construction methods,” Nuance said in an adult voice that belied his tender age. “These are already tested designs, not to worry. But improvements can be made. We have a directive, which I am charged with achieving. My father gave me orders and I am directly responsible with ensuring that they happen.” 

“And what might these be?” asked Sundance in response. 

“Well…” Nuance licked his lips and his expression became one of intense concentration. “Forty houses. We’re to build forty houses. One large general-purpose bunkhouse, as requested by Twilight Velvet. The dining hall is to be expanded greatly in size, and upgraded with insulation. Uh, there was something else—” 

Quiet whispered into the colt’s ear, “A kitchen, Nooncy.” 

“Yeah! A big communal kitchen. Oh, and basic sanitation stuff. And we’re supposed to help you with any projects that you might already have going.” The colt’s face reddened a bit as his sister continued to make kissy-kissy sounds, but he somehow maintained his fragile focus. 

The smoochy sounds came to an abrupt end and Corbie asked, “Where’s Skyla anyhow?” 

“She has a headache,” Quiet replied. “Tried to do magic. Got frustrated. Gave herself a headache.” 

“Hmph.” Corbie’s wings slapped against her sides as she gave them a flap. “And here I thought that it was the ice cream that gave her a headache. I told her that she couldn’t eat it that fast, but you know how she is. She never listens.” 

Nuance and Quiet exchanged a glance with one another, and then the two of them smiled. Sundance lapsed into thoughts about when he was young, and for a moment, he was lost in pleasant reverie as the three foals laughed together. Not that he had many friends back then, but he had friends now, and there was no time like the present to make up for lost time. 

“What’s this about ice cream?” Olive glowered down at the three foals, whose laughter came to an abrupt, sudden end. “Well, well, well… looks like there’s no point in serving dessert after supper. I’m thinking that some time confined to quarters might also be necessary—” 

“Olive, no! Please… Quiet and I get so little time together.” 

The hard mare’s face softened a bit, but not much. Her eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth pulled down into a strict frown, and Sundance saw pain in her eyes. Pain? Not just her eyes, but her face as well. For whatever reason, Nuance’s words struck a nerve and Olive’s reaction was difficult to watch. 

“It was my idea,” Corbie said to the harsh mare. “Don’t punish my brother, I dragged him along and he fought me every step of the way.” 

“As you were,” Olive barked, and then the hard mare stomped away, her armor clanking as she retreated. 



 

Officer’s Mess, as Sundance heard it called, was a rather smallish room, considering just how large this ship was. Perhaps there were multiple little rooms like this one. One thing of note, it was devoid of officers at the moment. Quiet Dark sat across the table, smiling her terrifically toothy smile, and Nuance, who sat beside her, seemed to only have eyes for her. Corbie sat beside her brother, and she was openly studying Corduroy, who sat beside her. Turmeric sat to Sundance’s left, and the worn out unicorn was almost unusually quiet. 

Overhead, the ceiling was a mess of pipes and conduits. 

“Thank you for having us over,” Corduroy said to Corbie. “It’s been a stressful day.” 

“How so?” Corbie asked while her brother continued his worshipful ways. 

“Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I should stay. I might be needed.” Corduroy frowned as she rested her paws upon the rounded edge of the stainless steel table. 

“Which reminds me…” Sundance wondered if his nurse would stay or go. “We found an old wine cellar. It’s currently flooded. Think we could do something about getting it cleaned out so we can use it again? The cold storage would be beneficial.” 

“You remind me of Skyla,” Quiet said to Sundance while Nuance fawned over her. 

“How so?” 

“She seeks constant improvement,” the curious shark-toothed filly replied. “If she found a flooded cellar, she would do the same. She’s practical like that.” She signed, brushed her mane away from her face with her foreleg, and continued, “I think Skyla is out of sorts because her routine got interrupted. She’s queer like that. Keeps to a rigorous schedule and does pretty much the exact same thing every single day. She only agreed to this trip for the sake of diplomacy.” 

“Diplomacy?” Sundance found himself intrigued. 

“Diplomacy.” Quiet blinked, almost batting her sooty eyelashes, and her mismatched eyes glittered with mischievous goodness. “That thing that civilised, tea-drinking, proper ponies do so that disagreement can be kept at bay. It was quite diplomatic of you to say nothing about my appearance, Baron Sundance.” 

“It was just recently that I started to hammer out my prejudices,” he replied, and then immediately worried if he had said too much. 

“How curious…” Even though she had hooves, the strange sphinxian filly crossed her forelegs over one another on the table in front of her. “Once those take root, they can be quite difficult to weed out from the garden.” As she spoke, her eyes, one pink, one amber, cast a sidelong glance at the colt gazing at her with syrupy adoration. “How have you managed?” 

“My most trusted advisor and close friend is a diamond dog.” 

A nightmarish display of sphinxian dentata spread from ear to ear on Quiet’s face. 

“So, am I to understand that the Crystal Empire has an interest in the Sunfire Barony?” Corduroy’s claws clicked against the stainless steel surface of the table and she looked somewhat uncomfortable as she craned her head to look over at Quiet. “To what end, I wonder? What do we have that you might want from us?” 

“That is my task.” Still smiling, Quiet bowed her head. “My assignment is to establish good relations so that in the future, mutually beneficial exchanges might be made. It’s never too early to secure the future, you know. Skyla has the eye for details, but as for me myself, I provide the charm that she lacks.” She turned and looked Nuance right in the eye. “Am I not charming, Nooncy?” 

Blushing, the colt smiled. 

“Dees-gusting.” Wincing, Corbie stuck out her tongue. “It’s worse than when Dad gets in a mood. You can hear him crooning all over the castle.” 

“We’re too small and insignificant to be of any use to the Crystal Empire.” Corduroy lifted her paws, and then tented her paw-fingers together just in front of her nose. “I fail to understand how there is any sort of practical interest. Is this just a sort of test, a school assignment perhaps? We lack anything of any importance.” 

“The Crystal Empire desires goodwill,” said Quiet as her demeanour had a drastic, sudden change. Her smile vanished and her eyes had a predatory gleam to them. “This expedition was funded almost entirely by Shining Armor and my parents, from their own coffers. We’re not doing this to leave you beholden to us. In fact, we expect nothing in return. Just goodwill. A foundation of goodwill is beneficial to each of us, and there is no telling what sort of future might be built upon such a foundation.” 

Corduroy inhaled, almost said something, but remained silent. Corbie’s head turned from left to right, as if she was watching a tennis match. Now wearing a thoughtful expression, Nuance no longer fawned over his filly friend, but was paying attention to the conversation. Turmeric scratched the back of his neck whilst he heaved a tired sigh. As for Sundance, he understood that he was in over his head, but could not fathom just how much. The mere fact that Corduroy seemed to have some understanding of the situation left him hopeful, but he was frustrated by his own cluelessness. 

What made everything worse was the fact that a foal, a foal had a fine grasp of the situation. No doubt, she’d been raised and schooled from an early age in statecraft, which only made Sundance even more uncomfortable. If she wanted to, she could talk circles around him, bewitch him, and probably get him to agree to all manner of things. 

But, he doubted that Princess Celestia would allow that to happen. 

It dawned on Sundance that this was Princess Celestia’s method of teaching him statecraft in a safe, secure manner, with minimal consequences. Could that be what she was doing? Was this a matter of pegasus see, pegasus do? He looked into Quiet’s eyes and tried to read her face, but she was a perfect blank with nothing to be gleaned with his keen powers of observation. 

Politics was a game he had not yet learned to play. 

Of course, when he’d started out, he had no idea how to earn the trust of his subjects, but he had that now. They trusted him, implicitly, perhaps even more so after rescuing Amber. He’d brought them Corduroy. So far, his short rule could be summarised by a struggle to do right. Then there was the owlbear, and Cucumber’s death. Yes, Sundance realised, he’d learned quite a bit in a short period of time. But for him to be a better baron, he’d need to get acquainted with politics, and now was as good a time as any. He trusted that Princess Celestia gave him a safe, fair, even playing field. He could make mistakes here and the consequences wouldn’t be too harsh. 

“I’d like for us to be friends,” Sundance said at last after several long moments of silence. “Nations”—he paused for a time, thoughtful—“well, my barony is not a nation, but the idea remains the same. Nations can be friends. Equestria has friends. I’d like for us to have a good relationship, even though there is little we can offer you in return. Well, perhaps our gratitude. I for one, am thankful for your kindness, and I appreciate your generous offering of aid. If in the future, I can repay that in some way, I will.” 

Just as Quiet was about to reply, the door opened. There was a clank of armor from just outside, a jingle of straps and buckles, and then a pale pink alicorn stumbled through the door. Her eyes were bleary, she still had bedhead, and her sluggish movements suggested that she wasn’t entirely awake. Though an alicorn, there was nothing particularly regal about her, nothing graceful. When the door shut behind her, she paused for a moment so that she might study Sundance. 

“Hi.” Sundance tried to be his usual sunny self. 

“Let’s get this out of the way,” Skyla said in a flat, weary monotone. “I’m Skyla. I’m an alicorn, but I’m not yet a princess. Not like my sister, Flurry Heart the Destroyer, who earned her princesshood by beating up some mud monsters. Not that I’d ever do anything that barbaric.” Covering her mouth with her wing, she yawned and her ears folded back against her head. 

“My mother and father,” she continued, “being the wise, just, benevolent rulers that they are, have decreed that my appointment to princesshood depends entirely upon establishing trust and a working relationship with another nation, province, district, or barony. I chose to go with something small, which I thought would be the most manageable. You… you’re a baron. You have a barony. Let’s be friends of the mutually beneficial sort, shall we?” 

“Ladies and gentleponies,” Quiet said with astounding snark while also gesturing at her friend. “Skyla, future ruler of the Crystal Empire, and princess-to-be. A round of applause for our diplomacy honours student.” 

“There is value in being straightforward,” Turmeric remarked. 

“Thank you,” Skyla deadpanned as she sat down beside Sundance. “So… what’s for supper?”
> Spring break: fillies gone mild
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The barony was overrun with teenagers, who ran amok. They were everywhere, shouting, galloping about, occasionally flirting with one another, and it was wonderful. Sundance saw his barony as he hoped it one day would be; because of this, he was now more determined than ever to get from this point to that point, no matter how distant and difficult it might be. 

He stood atop the high promontory, where the old tower once stood, and watched as his barony was overcome with life. Surveyors were surveying, getting a lay of the land. A rather sizable group had gone off to the orchard ravine, to clear it out, clean it up, and to see if the burrow houses could be salvaged. Still others had gone off to inspect the old cellar, and see what could be done. It wasn’t even noon yet and it felt as though so much was being accomplished. 

A few had gathered around the waterfall basin, trying to understand how the waterfall dumped so much water into said basin, but it never seemed to overflow or flood. Sundance wondered about it himself, and just assumed that the water flowed through the porous rock and into some underground reservoir. It was a peculiarity of the barony, and a part of him was proud that outsiders had taken interest. 

An army of wood-shapers had gathered around Grandmother Oak and held some sort of odd communion. Sundance didn’t understand magic, not even in the slightest, but these kids were having the time of their young lives. The mighty remains of the once noble, majestic oak would be moved soon, and laid to rest upon a foundation bed of gravel. 

Hearing the crunch of gravel behind him, Sundance turned around to see Skyla and Corbie approaching. Skyla looked a bit more regal today, even wearing sunglasses, and she strode with an almost hypnotic fluid grace that demanded attention. The pair were almost the same age, which was hard to believe because Skyla was just… bigger. He found it odd that they did not fly up to meet him, and stood wondering why. 

“You know,” Skyla began as she approached, “when everypony is working and one pony is standing around, they’d be accused of being a lazy oaf. But not you. There is something purposeful in how you watch, Baron Sundance.” 

Squinting, he wasn’t sure how to take this statement. 

“Authority is comfort,” the pale pink filly continued. “Guards wear armor. Police wear uniforms of some sort. We equines are herd animals with complex evolution. I cannot help but wonder, do you understand the comfort that you provide for these poor, troubled souls? They have no guards, no police, and the previous lord, the very pony who should have been defending them according to the feudal contract, was their greatest danger. By standing watch the way that you do, you are restoring order. Authority, as I stated a moment ago, is comfort.” 

Yep, he was way out of his league. 

“It would behoove you to establish authority as soon as equinely possible. You need guards. Your subjects will work harder when they’re not having to look over their shoulders, fearful of danger. They’ll sleep better at night, secure in the knowledge that they are protected. That they can see their lord standing watch over them is a good start. It does much to alleviate the previous lord’s many transgressions.” 

The first words that lept to Sundance’s tongue died suddenly, and he found that he lacked replacements. Skyla was smarter than him, more educated, and she spoke with a cool confidence that he found that he envied. Last night, she had been out of sorts, but now, at this moment, she was clearly the princess in training. As Nuance had stated, she was born to rule, as evidenced by her cutie mark. 

“We discussed much last night during our meal. Well, I didn’t have much to say, but the rest of you covered a lot of much needed ground. Baron Sundance, there is one thing I would like to clarify, so that we might stand on even hoofing. May I?” 

“Please do,” he said, content to listen and maybe learn something. 

“Last night, you said that you have nothing to offer. That is simply not true.” Skyla now stood beside Sundance, and she looked down on the teeming masses below with a soft, demure smile. “You have shown yourself to be trustworthy, and filled with a sort of simple goodness. Right now, you are entrusted with our care. Our parents are persnickety with whom they trust with our lives and well being—and for good reason, Baron Sundance.

“But”—she paused with a sharp inhale—“we have to learn somehow. To be fit to rule, we have to learn how to ply our skills. Your barony is an ideal classroom. A safe space. You—you—are being trusted with our care, and that is an asset, a resource. As long as you continue to be trustworthy, and you prove that you are mindful with our care and good treatment, every conceivable asset will be poured into your barony so that it can serve as our classroom.” 

“Why tell me this?” Sundanced asked, as suspicion tickled the back of his mind. 

“Equal hoofing, as mentioned just a moment ago,” the filly replied. 

“Equal hoofing?” 

“Yes, equal hoofing.” Sighing, she waved one wing to emphasise her point. “It doesn’t matter that one day I’ll be the Empress. I don’t see much of a difference between an empress and a baron. We’re public servants. Keepers of the public trust. Titles and trappings mean very little to me. If we are to work together, we must do so as equals. I can’t have associates worrying about how to appease me, or how to curry my favour. I find it distasteful and inefficient. One day, I will wear a crown, and it will be unbearably heavy. I need like-minded allies to help me hold it up. I don’t want sniveling underlings kowtowing to me.” 

Unconcerned about regality, Corbie sat down upon a weathered stone block. 

Sundance looked at the alicorn filly and allowed himself to envy her. When he was her age, he could barely plan the period between home room and lunch. The weekend was just about the limits of his forward thinking, but even that was stretching it, because he made most of his plans on the fly. He started to wonder what he was doing here in this place, and if he was truly cut out to do the job required of him here. 

“Self-doubt does not become you, Baron Sundance.” 

“How—” 

“Don’t ask how, as that does not become you either,” Skyla said with cool wit. “It makes you appear clueless. Even if you are clueless, and trust me, there are many occasions where I am clueless, you shouldn’t reveal yourself to others. Hold it in, Baron Sundance. Display poise. Exude confidence.” 

“But—” 

“I said show some confidence!” Skyla barked. 

The sudden change in her demeanour startled him, and Sundance took a step back. Thankfully, he had room, and didn’t take a tumble over the edge of the promontory point. Alicorns at any age were just… weird. But, after a bit of careful consideration, he decided that he liked Skyla. At least she was straightforward—which Princess Celestia wasn’t. Of course, he understood why Princess Celestia wasn’t; she wanted him to learn, to stumble a bit, and find his own way. While he valued that, and saw wisdom in it, he found that he liked Skyla’s earnestness. 

“You stand up here, the proverbial cock upon the rock, the proud rooster that greets the dawn. Your confidence is their confidence.” Skyla made a broad, sweeping gesture with her wing. “Do not give them reason to doubt, Baron Sundance. For them, a proud, confident baron is their security. You have no guard armor, no police uniform. All you have is your confidence. Show it!” 

That made sense. Maybe a bit more swagger was in order. But not too much. He wondered where the fine line between arrogance and confidence existed, and the idea that his subjects watched him for the sake of their own secure happiness filled him with some sort of emotion that he’d never experienced before, something that compelled him to push beyond his natural submissiveness. 

“I’m bored,” Corbie announced. “I’m not good at stuff. I feel fat, clumsy, and stupid right now.” 

Skyla’s eyes—just barely visible through her sunglasses—darted in the direction of her friend, as if she was compelling Sundance to do something. Sundance did his best thinking under pressure, when action was needed, and so he flogged his brain for a solution. Corbie was a glum filly at the moment, and Skyla was still doing that thing with her eyes, a silent command, a call for action. 

“Corbie, I have a job for you,” Sundance said as inspiration seized him. 

“Is it a hot, sweaty job that is gonna leave me feeling faint, sweaty, sticky, and gross?” 

“No, but it is a very important job. I need somepony I can trust,” he replied. 

“Oh?” Corbie turned to look at him, and he could see how miserable she was. 

“Come with me,” he said to the forlorn filly, mindful of how Skyla was watching his every move. “There’s somepony that needs your help…” 



 

Corduroy’s infirmary was a fair bit cooler and comfortable, though the floor had been warmed by the sun. As for Corduroy herself, she was mashing something up with a mortar and pestle, and lost in concentration as she was, only offered a nod of acknowledgment as greeting. Hollyhock was sitting up on a bed with her newborn held in the crook of her foreleg. Amber Dawn lay in the bed, close to her mother, and her brother, Lemongrass, kept a worried watch over his busted up, incapacitated sister. 

“How is she?” Sundance asked, unsure of whom might answer. 

“Hot,” Hollyhock replied. “Corduroy says it’s inflammation. I keep worrying about infection and fever.” 

Head low, Sundance approached the bed, lifted one foreleg, and with a light, gentle touch, placed it upon the stricken filly’s neck. She was hot… hot enough to fry an egg on, and she trembled beneath his touch. Her eye did not open, nor did she speak, but her good ear flickered. With his guts twisting into knots, he pulled his hoof away. 

“Amber, this is Corbie.” He gestured with his wing for Corbie to come closer and his ears pricked at the sound of stone scraping against stone as Corduroy performed her task. “Corbie here, she’s going to read to you. Skyla’s gone off to fetch some new books from the ship and Corbie is going to keep you company. Would you like that?” 

At the promise of fresh entertainment, Amber stirred; with a feeble grunt, she lifted her head, her unswollen eye opened, and she looked up at Sundance. The sight of her made his heart feel heavy, his legs leaden, but with Skyla’s words still fresh in his mind, he remained resolute. Hollyhock was owed a confident baron. 

“You like the sound of that, don’t you?” he asked. 

Much to his surprise, Amber nodded. 

“I’ve been trying to read to her, but I’m so tired. My voice goes—” 

“I know,” Sundance said to Hollyhock. “Don’t explain yourself.” 

“Thank you.” Hollyhock’s eyes brimmed with tears, and the emotional mare turned away, blinking. 

“Corbie… Hollyhock just had a foal. It was a rough birth, and poor Holly hasn’t had much of a chance to recover because the ungrateful little cuss keeps her awake at night. Think you can help out?” Reaching out his wing, Sundance stroked Amber’s good ear as he spoke. 

Saying nothing, Corbie offered up a shy nod. 

“Maybe play a game or something with Lemongrass. Just be helpful, so that Holly here can get some rest. Can you do this for me?” 

Again, Corbie nodded. 

“Corduroy, you don’t mind having a little helper, do you?” asked Sundance. 

“That’d be great,” the distracted nurse replied as she continued to pulp something bitter-smelling in her mortar and pestle. 

“I’m going to leave now, so that you can get to know each other. Thank you, Corbie.” Sundance backed away, but only after he gave Amber one final affectionate pat. 

“I have the new Daring Do novel,” Corbie said to Amber as Sundance neared the door. “Daring Do and the Harrowing Homunculus. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. My father gave it to me in return for me agreeing to come here. We can go exploring with Daring Do together. I read to my brother when he’s sick and stressed out.” 

As Sundance retreated out the door, he smiled.
> The herald of hard choices
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small model of the domed home was intriguing, but perhaps not the best representative of the final product. As for the model itself, it was impressive, with a wondrous attention to detail. Grass, flowers, a serene slice of pastoral goodness. But the miniscule domed home was far too tiny to enter, and so Sundance had a hard time deciding if he liked the diminutive domicile. 

“We started of with a foamy concrete,” a handlebar-mustached unicorn said as he gestured to a bubbly sample slab. “We made a lot of improvements. It was ideal. All that air, you see. Good insulation. Amazing properties. But then some pegasus had the bright idea of using pegasus magic and binding clouds into the concrete.” This time, the unicorn pointed at a second sample, which was far more foamlike than the first. “Stronger, lighter, more insulation. Highly resistant to weathering. Brilliant stuff.” 

Sitting in a chair, Nuance seemed beside himself. 

Squinting, Sundance peered down at the model. “So why bury it with earth?” 

“Oh that.” A bubblegum-pink pegasus took over, and her every word was scented with something vaguely cotton candy-esque. “The sod layer is important. It adds another layer of insulation and prevents the sun from shining directly upon the dome. During extreme summers, this allows the dwelling to stay just a little bit cooler. Since it is sunk into the ground, inside temperature stays remarkably stable. We’ve had a lot of success with these designs so far.” 

Changing position, Sundance examined the two sample slabs of concrete and heaved a wickery sigh. The trouble was understanding this stuff, which he didn’t, and that made it hard to make an educated decision. It was a matter of trust, he supposed. But he didn’t want something that would crumble in a year or two. The rustic hovels were falling down, but they had stood for whole lifetimes. 

“How much experience have you had with them, and where?” Lifting his head, Sundance waited for an answer. 

“We have a few test sites,” the mustachioed unicorn replied. “Our biggest one is located in the Ashlands. Most of our construction has been done overseas, actually. There’s a bit of a—” 

“Most Equestrians think living in a sod-covered dwelling is beneath them,” the pink mare interjected. “They’re resistant to the idea of a small house based on communal living. They want big, enormous, expansive bathrooms, and individual kitchens, and living rooms, and bedrooms, and these small, efficient homes lack all of that. These are small. Simple. Cosy. They’re a place to sleep, but the very design encourages communal living, with shared spaces for the community to gather. Equestrians, even the very poor, desperate ones, resist the transition of practical housing.” 

“Thank you, Berry Briar.” A smile appeared beneath the unicorn’s mustache. 

“Oh, don’t mention it, Commander Humblewood.” 

“So, when I have new residents arrive, they might be turned off by the housing situation.” Sundance extended one wing, gave it a stretch, flexed his primaries, and then began to rub his chin. “It might influence their decision to stay.” 

“That’s not a bad thing,” Humblewood said to Sundance. “Think of it as a filter, of sorts.” 

“Hmm.” Rubbing his chin, Sundance wished that he had the room to pace, but the small, steel room was cosy, to say the least. 

“Like it or not, this is one possible future of many. Individual dwellings are ultimately inefficient… these are a luxury, really, when one sits down and considers the ramifications of housing tens of thousands. Or more. This solution only works here due to circumstance. Ultimately, we’ll need to focus on high-density high rises. Arcologies, we call them. But for now, we can still cater to some individual needs.” Berry Briar’s face was now a stern, hard mask, and for the first time since meeting her, her martial bearing could now be seen. “A future of hard choices awaits.” 

“And I suppose I am one of the heralds of hard choices?” Sundance looked Berry Briar right in the eye as he spoke, and tried to read her response, in case her words didn’t match her expression. “Is what I’m doing here to be a ‘take it or leave it’ situation?” 

“Yes,” Humblewood and Berry Briar said in unison. 

“I see.” Sundance ceased to rub his chin and he folded his wing against his side. 

“Future developments here will be quite different.” Humblewood cleared his throat before he continued, “Yonder plain would be ideal for communal barracks. Of course, calling them that would be a problem, but some clever public relations gabber will no doubt come up with a name that makes it palatable. Of course, ponies also have the option of building their own houses, should they come out this way.” 

Sundance’s lips pressed into a straight line, and he glanced over at Nuance, who squirmed in his chair. The poor colt looked miserable, worried, unhappy. Fretful, perhaps of how these unpleasant options might be taken. For Nuance’s sake, Sundance managed a sort of half-smile, an effort to reassure the colt, but what Sundance wanted was reassurance for himself. What was the right thing to do? 

“It is funny, sometimes, how a building represents a political ideology.” Nuance seemed quite surprised by the words that had just come out of his mouth and he sat there, blinking in a confounded way. 

“That’s true,” Humblewood was quick to reply. “Which is why your father has so much trouble advancing his ideas—” 

“And his agendas,” Berry Briar added. 

Nuance still seemed pretty astonished that he’d said something meaningful. This made Sundance feel a bit better, but did nothing to help him resolve the mother of all decisions. He could not help but feel that this one choice would forever impact his rule, and he started to wonder if this heavy feeling that he had might be the crown that Skyla had mentioned. It very well could be. 

“Nuance is right, you know.” Humblewood’s voice was a bit more gruff now and his mustache bristled as he scowled. “Forgive the potential pun, but this could cement your politics. Right now, everypony is scrambling to establish the boundaries between individual liberty and collective need. Ponies want a return to the old days, some of them, but they want the modern liberties that they’ve come to enjoy. No one is quite sure how this will turn out. Only the brave are exploring this new frontier.” 

Closing his eyes, Sundance thought of Baltimare and the inner-city. Desperation was a cancer. The fear of failing to pay the rent was something that everypony shared in common. All knew the dread of the rent deadline. Lucky were the privileged few that gained housing from the place where they worked. His mother and he made just enough to be stable, but things remained tight. Of course, now that he was gone, he worried about his mom. Was she just scraping by? 

“There’s a matter of utilities.” Nuance’s soft words made Sundance open his eyes. “There’s no power here, no modern sanitation. No water system. Whatever plans there might be for housing depend upon having basic services. It would behoove us to focus upon the here and now. If we build these houses, we provide for the needs of the peasantry, and there’s room for a bit of growth. While we might one day build housing blocks here, that is a day far in the future.” 

“Well said, Nuance.” 

The colt fairly beamed from Humblewood’s sincere praise and squirmed in his chair. 

“We have a similar problem in the Ashlands.” Briar Berry reached over and tousled Nuance’s mane as she spoke. “The village there keeps growing. Housing is an issue. Basic services don’t really exist yet, but there are many makeshift solutions. Windmills, dams, stuff like that. The ponies of the Ashlands are clever. You share a lot of the same issues, so some of the same solutions might apply. If growth is to happen, you’ll need to undergo rapid industrialisation of the area.” 

Turning about, Sundance once more examined the model. His eye trailed over every blade of grass, every flower, the tiny windows, the door, and he tried to imagine life inside of the dome home. It was… a room. Just a room. A place for a bed, and maybe a table. It was a safe, warm, secure room, sheltered from the harsh elements, secure from feral weather. He couldn’t see how a feral storm could do much damage to such a dwelling. Which made it more than a place to rest one’s head, but a refuge, a place of safety. Perhaps a good place to run if another owlbear dropped in, unannounced. 

“Do it,” he said. “Tear down the old and build the new. My subjects deserve more than dirt floors and rooty, bug-infested roofs. We’ll deal with the future when it comes. Should it come roaring in like a charging owlbear, it’ll meet the same fate as the last one.” 

Nuance gulped. 

“Right, Baron.” Humblewood nodded. “We’ll get started straight away.” 



 

A gaggle of giggling, gossiping teenage fillies went galloping past, and left the scent of bubblegum in their wake. Sundance was reminded of school, the packed hallways, and the frantic rush to get to class. School had not prepared him for this; he was entirely unprepared, and it showed. Skyla… there was a pony who was prepared. Born to rule, she knew what she was doing. Even Nuance had a far better grasp on the situation than he gave himself credit for. 

“Milord, lewds everywhere!” 

He sighed and his ears drooped. “I know, Sauerkraut.” For a moment, he thought of Cucumber. “Go bake a pie, Sauerkraut. I’ll expect it with my lunch.” 

“But… Milord! So much lewd!” 

Again, he sighed, and he was thankful for simple peasants with simple needs. “Sauerkraut, if you’re in the kitchen, you won’t witness the lewds.” 

“But what if I come out?” 

Now, his eyelids had a frightful twitch to them. Surely Sauerkraut had to know of the nightly lewds that took place—didn’t she? Perhaps she didn’t. The poor mare was distressed by the hormone-fueled shenanigans of the rampaging pack of teenagers. He made a mental note that he should never, ever leave poor Sauerkraut Pie and Turmeric alone together, as the results would be disastrous. 

“Lewds happen,” he said to the troubled mare. “I’m sorry. They’re young, Sauerkraut, and they can’t help it. They’re being lewd with the hopes that somepony responds well, and offers lewd in return. Reciprocated lewds leads to love, love leads to marriage and all that rot, new foals are born, and the world continues. So, we need the lewds.” 

“But… so lewd.” The elderly mare shuddered. 

“I know. I’m sorry. All of this is temporary. Things will return to normal, I promise.” 

With a shake of her head, Sauerkraut frowned and then stormed off. 

“Well,” Sundance muttered to himself, “that could’ve gone better. Feel like I flubbed that one.” 



 

A lone figure approached on the rock-strewn southern plain. Sundance squinted, trying to get a better view of the distant silhouette, but nothing could be gleaned from the far-off outline. It was a long, long walk to get to the barony from anywhere, and Sundance wondered if their visitor had walked from the railroad depot. That… that was a journey of several days on hoof. 

Visitors. 

Sundance wondered if any of the current visitors might one day return to stay here. A hard wind from the west made the grass sway with beautiful, rippling hypnotic patterns. Wildflowers were in bloom, and the grass has grown tall. He watched it all, thoughtful, and felt just a little melancholy knowing that this vast, empty space before him had once been a city. The snug box canyon was a natural keep, a castle of sorts. 

But the city had been a battleground, and now, all was ruin. 

The land had wounds, and he was responsible for healing it somehow. It was his business now, his life’s calling—and all because of his genealogy project. An exercise in tedium. His anal-retentive fixation with fine detail and doing everything just so had been his undoing. Yet, there was something satisfying about this job. And the question begged to be asked, if not him, then who? The owls might have something to say about that. 

His own transformation troubled him. Once, he was an impeccably groomed pegasus who took pride in his appearance. Oh, not much. Not to the point of vanity. But his mane and tail were cut just so. He brushed, frequently and often. He was a reflection of his work, with fine attention to detail and careful consideration. 

But now… 

Ragged scars ran the length of his neck and back. He couldn’t remember when he’d brushed his mane last, or his tail. They’d grown a bit long—eyebrow raisingly long—and he couldn’t recall when he’d given himself a good grooming. His hooves were rough, chipped, and in dire need of a good buffing. Did he have stinky wingpits? Probably. He’d fallen off of his lofty perch and now, he could not help but feel that he was a reflection of his barony, his land. A bit rough around the edges. Smelly. In need of a good cleaning up. 

“What am I becoming?” he asked himself. 

There was no answer, no reply. Not that he expected one. Whatever he was becoming, he was still in transition. There was no conceivable way to predict how this would end. An owlbear. A death. Little Amber Dawn tumbling down into a forgotten cellar. He was clay now, he was land, and his soft form was to be shaped by these hard experiences. One day, the fire would come, and he’d be made hard. Princess Celestia had promised that—and he had every reason to believe her. 

He would burn for all of this, and one of two things would happen. 

His flaws would prove fatal, and he’d shatter. 

Or he’d harden. 

Eyes squinted, he watched as the distant figure approached, and waited.
> What's in a name?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was how stories began; a stranger came to town. Only, the barony wasn’t much of a town. It wasn’t even a village. Was it a hamlet? Sundance had little knowledge of these distinctions. And what a stranger approached, to be certain. Even at the current distance, the approaching figure wasn’t quite pony-shaped. He—it was certainly a he—was brown. More accurately, he was brown with brown-on-brown stripes, like a zebra, but this wasn’t a zebra. Because he was brown, for one thing, and had long, rabbit-like ears. 

He cut a striking figure. 

Sundance was torn between waiting, and going over to say hello. The approaching stranger was loaded down with barrel packs, two massive barrel-sized packs, one slung from each side. A gourd hung from a strap bounced from the odd creature’s neck. Carrying such a load would make the considerable distance seem even longer. Yet, there was quite a spring in the stranger’s step, and his brisk gait never slowed, never faltered. 

In the end, Sundance’s inquisitive nature could not be contained. 



 

“Hello.” 

A simple hello wasn’t much, but it was an adequate greeting. Honest. Sincere. Lacking in pretension. Sundance studied his guest while thinking about first impressions. The stranger looked about, his eyes going from place to place, never lingering for too long. This quickness suggested intelligence, or maybe a short attention span, one never could tell. 

“Good day,” the stranger replied. 

“I’m Sundance.” 

“I suspected as much.” With a nod, the stranger introduce himself. “I am Gothcruz, recently a student of Twilight Sparkle, and trained as a lorekeeper. Having just recently graduated, I’ve come in search of stories. History. Let us get some quick answers out of the way. You are no doubt curious as to what I am, as most ponies are. I am a zurro. My father is a burro and my mother was a zebra. As for myself, at a young age, I felt the call to become a griot, a type of storyteller from my mother’s culture.” 

“That seems… thorough.” Sundance studied the stranger for a time, unsure of what else to say, and wondered if Gothcruz was perhaps acting as Twilight Sparkle’s agent for some as of yet unknown reason. 

“Every conversation seems to start with a barrage of questions.” Gothcruz smiled and shifted his stance, perhaps to be more comfortable under his load. “I try to be forthcoming, so I’ll be accepted. It’s harder than you think, acceptance.” For a moment, it seemed as though he might say more, but instead he turned away and remained silent. 

“I suppose you want to stay,” said Sundance. “Can you work?” 

“Work?” Gothcruz blinked, surprised. “While I am of a scholarly bent, I am strong. I’ve hiked here from Ponyville. Stopped by and visited Zecora on the way over and she gave me a few stories. That took a while. What sort of work needs to be done?” 

For Sundance, that was good enough. “You’re welcome to stay. Follow me, I’ll show you around.” 



 

“Strange name… Gothcruz.” 

“A pony that dances upon the sun is most peculiar, is it not?” 

Unable to stop himself, Sundance laughed. It felt good to do so, and he felt his spirits lifted. Turning to face the zurro who walked beside him, he said, “I’m named after a type of sunflower.” 

“And I am named after some sort of crusader icon. My father believed it would make me brave. Of course, to hear my mother tell the story, we had just arrived in Equestria, in Fillydelphia, and when the immigration officer asked for my name, Gothcruz was the first thing my father thought of and blurted out. I arrived a bit early, you see. Was born on the ship. So it could be said that my sovereignty is that of the sea, but I would bitterly disagree with you.” 

Then, after some time spent chuckling, he added, “I do not like the sea. It does not agree with me.” 

“Funny thing about stories… they change with whoever is doing the telling.” 

“Oh, quite.” 

Sundance took a deep breath and said to his companion who walked beside him, “A colourful bunch lives here. They might tell you a story about an owlbear. I’ve already heard a few versions, and the tale has reached legendary proportions. The long and the short of it is, I was so scared that I was about to piss myself, and I was largely useless. Almost got myself killed. I am not the hero, no matter what anypony tells you. I was rescued by the hero.” 

“But… is it not advantageous for a baron, a ruler, to be steeped in legend? Does this not give credence to your rule? Your shadow advances before you as your herald, a shadow as long as the tales told about you. Tell me, does this not inspire others to follow in your stead?”

Sundance paused, and gave Gothcruz an inquisitive look. Together, they stood there, eyeing one another, and Sundance tried to understand whatever deeper meaning could be found in what had just been said. The words troubled him for reasons he could not fathom, and as much as he wanted to sort out what he felt, he found that he could not. 

“As a storyteller, doesn’t truth matter?” asked Sundance. 

“I came here to collect stories, not truth. Legends, myths, they have power, Baron Sundance. Most peculiar magic. Some call it enshrinement. Odd things happen when enough creatures begin to believe in a figure of legend. When a hero is believed in, the odds are ever in his favour. By understanding what is said, what is told, one begins to understand this peculiar magic.” 

Confused, Sundance could only stare. 

“It would be wondrous to study this as it happened,” Gothcruz remarked with a charming smile on full display. “Perhaps someday. Twilight Sparkle, my mentor, my teacher, she assures me that anything is possible.” 

Frustrated, Sundance knew he needed to do something so he wouldn’t look like a total idiot, and action was needed now. “Tell me about your teacher. I’m probably going to meet with her at some point. What should I know?” 

“She is prankish,” Gothcruz blurted out without hesitation. “More so than Celestia, her mentor. She doesn’t want you feeling safe, secure, and complacent. A trickster, she will do anything to throw you off your guard. Of course, as one touched by the magic of my Aunt Nancy, I am also a trickster, and as such, I learned a great many things from my mentor.” 

Sundance tucked this information into mental notes to remember. 

“Of course, I have collected stories about Twilight, and she wasn’t always this way. I am told she was once a bit uptight. Insecure about herself. A little too worried about what others might think.” Gothcruz paused, thoughtful, and he spent a moment looking around him. “From what I’ve been able to gather, one day, she went to Las Pegasus for some kind of bake-off. She returned quite a different pony. One that ceased to care so much what others thought. Her closest associates tell me that she became a better teacher—and a better ruler.” 

Almost—but not quite wincing, Sundance thought of his mother’s warnings about Las Pegasus. A city of hooligans and thugs. The city was a den of debauchery and vice, a place of wickedness, a wretched hive of coffee drinkers that didn’t have their heads screwed on straight. And she had warned him that if he ever did so much as fly over the city, there would be consequences. 

Dire consequences. 

Ears pricking, Sundance got down to the business at hoof. “There’s our waterfall. I’m not sure what’s about to happen to it, so enjoy it while it lasts.” He chuckled, but he was worried about the way the eggheads were eyeballing his waterfall. “There’s our crystal tree. If you’re lucky, you’ll see it grow. I’m working hard toward that end. To the right of the waterfall, in that cave, there’s our kitchen and our baths… but I don’t think that cave will be either for much longer. In fact, I think they’re laying out the foundation for our new kitchen right now. At least, that’s what I think they’re doing over there by the dining hall. Oh, and that’s the dining hall. It might also be the place you end up sleeping for a while.” 

Though Sundance couldn’t tell for sure, Gothcruz seemed impressed. 

But that could be baseless optimism on Sundance’s part, and he knew it. 

“Behind those big doors is the cave we use as a barn, and also an emergency shelter. It goes down quite deep… I think you’d be surprised. I know I was. Way far back is also where we store food. There’s a second set of fortress doors down there, and it makes sense to keep food stockpiled in the emergency shelter.” 

“Excuse me, I sense a story waiting to be told.” As he spoke, Gothcruz offered up a polite nod, and then took off at a brisk trot while saying, “You there! What is your name?” 

“Eggplant—” 

“Fascinating. Eggplant, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? You seem to be an elder. Can you tell me more about this place?” 

The old pony seemed quite baffled and unsure of how to respond. 

“All you have to do is talk, and I’ll be glad to listen.” 

“Really?” Eggplant cast a grizzled, dubious stare in the zurro’s direction, blinked a few times, and then after a long stretch of hesitation, nodded. “I have some stories about this place.” 

“Lovely.” Gothcruz smiled so wide that his molars were visible. “Excuse me, Baron Sundance, but my work begins.” 

As the pair went off together, side by side, Sundance sighed. Such was the way of things. After some thought, he was pleased, and why wouldn’t he be? Gothcruz was at least tolerated, if not accepted. Eggplant had somepony to yak at, and there was a good chance that the other older residents might join in, for surely, they had stories to tell. What had started with Corduroy was already showing promise, just the sort of promise that he’d hoped to see. 

He stood there, thinking of the events of the morning; his meeting with Skyla, helping Corbie, which in turn was a big help for Hollyhock and her family. One might almost think that he knew what he was doing. A grinning, bespectacled colt went whooshing by, calling out the name of a fetching, glasses-wearing filly that was overcome with the giggles as he approached. Sundance watched, and a part of him felt sad, while also happy. 

His own experience in school had been miserable. Maybe school was a mistake. He couldn’t dismiss the notion entirely. There was something to be said about the Corps of Gringineers. These young ponies, these teenagers, seemed to share a united sense of purpose. A common cause. Their shared ideology and desire to do better, to be better, brought them together. From what little that he’d been able to observe, they didn’t act like the foals Sundance remembered from school. 

Perhaps if he’d enlisted at fourteen, less of his life would have been wasted. 

But would he be standing here? Enlisting would have meant that his genealogy project would have never been finished. That was the work, the great work, that made him, shaped him as a pony. It gave him an eye for detail, a resistance to tedium, and the ability to work long hours on a project without tiring. 

This barony was the end result of his hard work. If he’d enlisted at fourteen, then he might be the one working for another baron, or baroness. Not a bad gig, but there was a huge difference between working for the baron and being the baron. His life, and moreover, his job, sucked. But he wouldn’t give this up, no. There’d be no walking away from this, not now, not ever. His blood had flowed into the soil and far too much had been given. 

Suddenly maudlin, he missed his mother, his father, and his grandmother. His father wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but there was something to be said about spending quiet time together. Quality time. As for his grandmother, she’d talk an ear off if left to her own devices. She was best described as bubbly, and he missed her effervescent nature. 

“I’ve done well for myself.” 

Sad, though smiling, he pawed the ground with his hoof. 

“There can be no doubt that I’ve done all the right things. It’s brought me here, to this place. And this place… this place… was just the thing that I didn’t know I needed.” 

After taking a deep breath, he felt better, a little less sad. 

“Hey! Yer Grace! Corduroy needs you right away!”
> The spellweavers' lesson
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corduroy’s infirmary was besieged by an army of able-bodied teenagers. They were drilling a hole into the stone wall, installing glass windows, and there was a ginormous metal tank being constructed above her roof. Sundance was mystified by the sight of it, and couldn’t understand why a metal tank was needed. But the pegasus ponies armed with rivet guns made a terrific racket and took great pride in their work. 

As he approached, the diamond dog nurse appeared in the open doorway, and she wore a pleased expression. “Good news, the ship’s doctor came down and had a look at Amber. She said that I’ve already done everything that she would have done, and she said that Amber will make a full recovery. Scarring should be minimal.” 

That was good news, for certain. 

Clapping her paws together, Corduroy practically gushed. “I’m going to have running water. Clean water. They’re making a simple but effective water filtration system with sand, clay, and gravel. They’re also installing a wood burning stove in here. And glass windows! Also, out back, there’s going to be some shower stalls so I can clean my patients. There will be scrubbing!” 

The last line was delivered with a bit too much enthusiasm, and Sundance shivered. Corduroy had a thing for cleanliness, and who could blame her? But she was aggressive with her cleanliness, and as he had witnessed with his own eyes, resistance was useless. Futile, even. There was only clean and unclean, and Corduroy had a critical eye. 

It was time to change the subject, before she decided that he looked a bit too scruffy. 

“So, where are your patients now?” he asked. 

“In the dining hall.” Corduroy took a moment to adjust her beanie and while she did so, she looked down at Sundance with a joyful expression of bliss. “My infirmary will be secure against the elements and almost modern. Now, if only we had proper laundry facilities.” 

“Did somepony say something about laundry?” a bright-eyed unicorn asked. “I have a design for a pony-powered washing machine. It’s like a giant hamster wheel and you—” 

“I can picture it already!” Corduroy shouted. “Can you build it?” 

“Probably!” 

Backing away, Sundance figured it was time to go. 



 

Magic was, perhaps, Equestria’s greatest asset, or so Sundance believed. But watching magic from other lands put into practice by Equestrian unicorns was awe-inspiring. There was a brief lecture from an older, somewhat greying stodgy old unicorn, explaining the difference between Equestrian exceptionalism, which focused upon the power of the individual, and spellweaving, a practice performed in other parts of the world, where weak unicorns worked in unison. 

A group of earth-shapers, each of them quite weak as individuals, easily excavated a massive hole when working together. Sundance watched in silent astonishment as the sextet of unicorns wove their magic together and worked as one singular entity. Was this what it was like way back in the day, when groups of unicorns moved the sun and moon around in the sky? Stony soil practically lept up and flew into a pile. As for the heavier boulders, they rolled out of the way, moving at a lazy pace. 

In mere moments, there was a hole in the ground so that a foundation could be laid. 

“Let us examine the natural order of things,” the stodgy old unicorn said as the spellweavers moved the displaced earth into a neat pile. “Earth ponies instinctually work their communal magic, and they do so together. Pegasus ponies”—he pointed in Sundance’s direction—“their weather teams still to this very day use their shared magic to tame feral weather. Why do you suppose this is? The magics that are of the utmost importance to our shared survival remain communal… but unicorn ponies at some point sought out individual glory.” 

Sometimes, a single unicorn made a difference. Sundance thought of Cucumber, and Paradox. Neither of them seemed too concerned about glory. Though, he did have to admit that he didn’t know Paradox all that well, but so far, she had made a tremendous difference. As for Cucumber, one would be hard-pressed to find a pony more humble and dutiful than he. 

Yet, Sundance could see the wisdom here. The sorts of unicorns that might join the Gringineers wouldn’t be too terribly powerful. Truly exceptional wizard-types would be off doing wizardly things. Their talent would take them elsewhere in life. At least, for Sundance, this seemed to be true. So for the weaker unicorns, this display of power might be appealing. Such a curious thing, the siren’s call of power. Even Paradox spoke of power as a desirable thing. 

“As unicorns, we can do amazing, miraculous things on our own,” the stodgy old unicorn continued. “A single unicorn is a force to be reckoned with, never forget that. Never doubt that. But together… we are a tribe with collective amnesia. We forget our past glories. There was a time when we were truly strong… when we moved the sun. The unicorns of the seaponies still collectively help to maintain and control the tides. Without them, life in our oceans as we understand it would cease to exist. It isn’t glorious work, but it is necessary work. And that is why we’re here, together, learning a new way.” 

“Remembering an older way,” a young freckled unicorn said. 

The old grizzled unicorn almost, but not quite, smiled. 

“Throw enough of us at a problem, and we can do anything,” said a fresh-faced youth. “Prince Gosling told me that too many of us think only about what we can and can’t do. We think of ourselves as singular entities, and so we frame all of our life experiences in one of two ways. What can be done, and what can’t. He said that we need to fix our thinking, so that we never think about what we can’t do, but rather, only what can be done together, and how many it might take. As he says, ‘Throw enough Gringineers at a problem until a solution is found.’ He’s the reason I’m here today.” 

“He’s the reason a lot of us are here today,” a young filly added. She pointed up at her horn and her face became quite solemn. “I got fed up with feeling powerless. There was this feeling of greatness inside of me that my magic just wasn’t up for the task of expressing. Caused me some real problems.” 

“It’s the practical application of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s magic of friendship, in a form we can understand.” As these words were spoken, a great multitude of nods moved through the crowd like a wave. 

“So,” the old unicorn said to his students. “Gather into groups. Speak amongst yourselves. Get to know one another. Today, we’re going to learn about communal casting. Spellweaving, as it is called by many. Some of you already have experience, while others, this will be your first time. Don’t be shy.” He winked, and this time, he did smile. “Your first time should be exciting. Hold nothing back and go at it with all the enthusiasm you can muster. You’ll only be young once.” 

Wanting to know more, wishing to understand, Sundance sat down to watch… and listen. 



 

Sundance almost felt enlightened. 

There was really no better way of putting it. 

Oh, he didn’t feel smarter, or wiser, or even more capable; no. But there was a deep sense of satisfaction that he’d learned something profound, and that was more than enough to tip him into a state of near-euphoria, a sharp turnabout in mood from the melancholy he’d experienced on and off over the past few days. The grief was still there, but the keen sting was now blunted a bit. 

Both Skyla and Nuance added their magic to the spellweaving. It was strange to think of them as labourers, as common workers, yet here they were, standing shoulder to shoulder, contributing whatever magic they had to offer. Sundance could scarcely imagine what it must have been like, lifting and moving Grandmother Oak with the power of one’s mind, but from the expression Nuance wore when it happened, it had to have been rapturous. 

Grandmother Oak now laid upon her foundation and was secured in place. The plant-shapers now worked to smooth out her insides, to give it shape and form, a flat floor, gently curved walls, and an arched ceiling. It was a slow process, but mesmerising, easy to get lost in. As the gathered spellweavers poured their magic in, new life could be seen in the wood, which turned from grey to that of warm, rich, oak, beautiful almost golden hues. Old, gnarled burls smoothed out, gaping holes became windows. 

The rooted end was now closed off, woven together, a fascinating, almost hypnotic mass of curled, interwoven knots. As for the other end, it was prepared for the planned tower, for which the foundation was now shaped. A cellar had been excavated, and soon, the space between the trunk and cellar would be sealed off. It would be an ideal home for Paradox, and a fine place for the magical happenings of the barony. 

Sundance hoped that his future unicorn subjects might learn the same lessons of togetherness that had been taught today. 



 

Turmeric was breathless, almost to the point of panting, but that did absolutely nothing to slow him down after he burst into the dining hall, where Sundance was drinking tea and preparing to eat a fresh-baked pie that was still steaming. The pie, very much like Turmeric, clearly had a message to convey, some means of important communication. While Turmeric hadn’t said anything yet, the pie had spoken entire volumes, because it was a radish pie, made with old radishes, and was a fine way for Sauerkraut Pie to express her displeasure about  her dismissal after reporting the lewds. 

Sundance intended to eat every bite of it; he was overjoyed that Sauerkraut felt safe and secure enough to protest in such a manner. It was a manner of just desserts, and this dessert was more than justified, in his opinion. His just desserts had been served with a side of sassy-snorting, which pleased him. When he thanked her, the irked mare stormed out the door, and that, as they say, was that. 

“The orchard!” Turmeric practically spat out the words as he sat down beside Sundance. “You should see the orchard! It’s not done yet”—he sucked in some much-needed wind—“but so much has been done! We’ve found so many of those barrow houses built into the ravine walls! So many houses! It’s like… they are… a… a reminder that this place was a city once! All these homes! The kids… the kids are treating it almost like an archeological dig, even as they’re cleaning them up.” 

Turmeric, sweaty, breathless, and hot, scooted a little closer. 

“We’ve got bees, Sundance—” 

“Bees?” 

“Yes, those beehives you bought now have bees in them and they’ve been placed in a secure little alcove that’s just perfect for sheltering them. So now there are bees buzzing in the orchard again, and the bloodthirsty brambles are getting cleared out, and the barrows… it’s all so perfect. You know, I’m no earth pony, but I think I could live in a barrow. Once they were cleaned out, that is. Some of them are quite comfortable and spacious. Generous floor plans! I’d need to hire an interiour decorator to bring some colour into the place.” 

“Just how many barrows are there?” Sundance asked. 

“I don’t know,” Turmeric replied. “We keep clearing away those briars and brambles, and finding more of them. They might run the entire length of the ravine for all we know.” 

Without thinking about his action, Sundance lifted one hoof and stroked his chin. Having struck a thoughtful pose, he tried to imagine how many homes there might be, but his imagination just wasn’t up for the task. It made sense though; an orchard of that size—it was immense—would need a tremendous workforce. Treemendous workforce? He kept his pun to himself, there was no sense in sharing it, and decided that he’d need to trot over to the orchard to have a look for himself. 

“Is that… is that a… wait… is that a radish pie?” 

“Yes it is.” Though distracted, Sundance managed an agreeable nod. 

“Huh. You see something new every day, I guess. Mind if I try some?” 

With a turn of his head, Sundance leveled his gaze upon his friend. “You want to share my pie with me?” 

“Right now, I’m hungry enough to try anything. How bad could it be?” 

This response made Sundance smile. “Pour yourself a nice cuppa, and then we’ll eat pie together while you tell me more about the orchard.”
> So many pitched tents, so little time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The curtain of night was draped like a shroud over the barony—but the old corpse was quite lively and rumours of its death had been greatly exaggerated. On the vast plains outside of the box canyon, dozens and dozens of campfires burned. Voices were raised in song, celebration, and rollicking laughter could be heard in the night. The barony was up past its bedtime and Sundance, he was glad for this. 

It was almost magical; the strumming of poorly played guitars could be heard, along with songs, ghost stories, and rambunctious revelry, as teenagers were wont to do. There were more than a few old timers scattered about with their number, and some of them were every bit as rowdy as the young ones. After a long day of labour, everypony, and everybody, was ready to cut loose. 

No doubt, they would all stay up far too late, and there would be much grumbling come morning. But these were good times. Happy times. This was the sort of thing that one remembered and told stories about when one grew old. Salad days. The very sort of days that Sundance had never experienced for himself and he now found himself at a loss for what to do. 

“I’ve never seen so many pitched tents in one place,” Hoe Hum said as she strolled past. 

Sundance snorted, but did not pull his gaze from the fire. The night was cold, chilly even, not that it mattered. It was the sort of chill that brought ponies together, like Nuance and Quiet, who clung to one another as they huddled near the fire. Seeing them called to Sundance’s attention that he had no one, nopony. Skyla had wrapped herself in her wings and like Sundance, remained mostly quiet. Even Paradox seemed quite sociable and she watched everything around her with wide eyes that glittered in the firelight.

As for Turmeric and Corduroy, the two of them had gone off on a walk together. 

“We never did talk about your house,” Nuance said to Sundance. 

“Is there something to talk about?” asked Sundance. “I thought I’d be getting a dome home just like everypony else.” 

Eyes closed, Quiet emitted a blissful purr. 

“Well, as baron, you are expected to entertain guests. There’s an expected standard.” Nuance appeared troubled for a moment, but this vanished fast. “You know, some of these reasons just sound like excuses to have a nice home, even if they are valid reasons. I’ve never really thought about it before. I mean, I understand what is necessary, but everything I was about to say really draws attention to the fact that I live in a castle.” 

When the last word left her brother’s mouth, Corbie snorted. 

“No…” Nuance’s eyes reflected the flickering, dancing flames. “A dome home was not planned. There’s several tiny models on the ship, so you can choose from one. A wooden keep, a stone keep, a more traditional manor house—though that one is a bit small. More of a mini-manor, really. Mother Luna called it ridiculously cute and started talking about having one constructed in the arboretum. It’s… well…” His words trailed off in the form of a weary sigh. 

“When you say it that way, you make it sound like a playhouse, Nuance.” 

“Well, that’s what it is, Skyla.” Fretful wrinkles appeared in the corners of Nuance’s eyes. “I feel very uncomfortable right now. This did not turn out as intended. It almost feels… demeaning somehow that Mother Luna thinks of it as a playhouse. What is a toy for us is an actual home for somepony. I think I can feel my stomach knotting up again.” 

“Nuance”—Skyla leaned in a little closer—“it’s fine, really. Don’t be distraught. It’s good that you’re having these realisations. Just struggle through them and find a way to be a better pony.” 

“Thank you, Skyla.” 

“Forget the models,” Quiet said as her eyes fluttered open. She squinted for a time, clearly pained by the bright firelight, but she was quick to adjust. “There’s a narrow opening for the box canyon. Construct a gatehouse and you have yourself the beginnings of a fine castle, if you use the natural architecture. Build up support on both sides, and then build a simple residence above the gate. It’ll give Sundance a good view of both the inside and the outside. While it isn’t perfect, it will do a lot to secure the area.” 

“That… that…” Nuance struggled for words that would not come and he leaned against Quiet with a relieved smile on his face. 

“Is purrfect?” Quiet’s terrible teeth could be seen when she cracked a smile. “Practical? Traditionally, guards would live in the gatehouse, but from the looks of things, Sundance does double duty as both the baron and the guard.” 

“Can we do this?” Skyla looked around at the other ponies gathered around this fire. 

Quiet made a sweeping gesture with her right foreleg. “Look at all these scattered stones. These used to be walls once. Houses. Buildings. Everything we need for building materials is right here. The box canyon can become Sunfire Castle… or whatever. We should look into enhancing natural security features, if we can.” 

Sundance said nothing. The owlbear had dropped down from the top of the waterfall, so a gatehouse, while useful, wouldn’t protect them as much as he might like. With the owlbear attack fresh in his memory, he thought about his conversation with Skyla, and the importance of security. The fact that he often stood guard made others feel safer, if Skyla’s words were true, and he had no reason to doubt her. 

But… closing off the box canyon and turning it into a sort of fortress, or, if one was generous, a castle of a kind might go a long way towards offering the illusion of security. His subjects might feel safer—which wasn’t a bad thing in Sundance’s estimation. There could be security ceremony, sort of like the changing of the guard, with him opening the gate at dawn, and closing it when the sun went down. Surely such ceremonies brought blessed reassurance? There had to be a reason that the changing of the guard was such a beloved public spectacle. 

“Baron Sundance needs enough room to raise a family.” 

Suddenly, all of his attention was focused on Skyla. 

“That he does,” Corbie agreed. 

“At such a time, a larger residence can be constructed, and the gatehouse can be used as a barracks, to house the guards.” Skyla spoke with a cool, calm confidence that was admirable. “No resources would be wasted with this construction. It would be… efficient, would it not?” 

“You’re ending your statements in the form of a question to force us into considering your point of view.” Quiet cast a bit of side-eye in her friend’s direction and added, “But you’re not wrong. Good job reinforcing your position. Somepony has been paying attention to Sunburst’s lessons.” 

“Thank you.” Almost beaming, Skyla offered up a respectful nod in return. 

Now confused, Sundance tried to figure out what was going on, to make sense of what had just been said. A lot had happened in just a few sentences, but he wasn’t sure he understood much of it, and he was more than a little alarmed at the idea of starting a family. That… that would be a difficult task, seeing as how he was painfully single. 

“Princess Celestia showed me paintings of this place back during its glory days,” Paradox said, finally breaking her long silence. “It had a gatehouse once. There was a tall watchtower up on that high rock. Inside, near the waterfall, it had a tall keep with a small footprint. It was considered an unassailable fortress. This place was mighty. Pegasus ponies patrolled the skies and kept peace on the streets. It was all that stood between the advancing Separatists and Canterlot. Princess Celestia told me that technology did what might and magic could not, and this place, a once impregnable fortress, was made a ruin.” 

Though he knew very little, Sundance knew the outcome. “The final stand was made here, in the tower that once stood. They rained destruction down upon the advancing armies so that Canterlot would have time to gather its defenses. This place where we’re sitting right now, is a battlefield.” As he spoke, he had himself a sobering moment when he thought of how he was the guardian of those who had survived, or had been born just after. This place, once mighty, once prosperous, was now a ruin, an inheritance of nothing but the land itself. 

“This place has strange magic,” Paradox said to those around her. “I am oddly stronger here. It’s subtle, but I can feel the difference.” 

“You and I are connected to the land,” Sundance said to Paradox. “It calls to us. The earth ponies who live here, they’re touched by the magic too. That’s why they didn’t leave. It’s probably why some of them are still alive—” 

“And so strong,” Paradox added. 

“Cucumber was ancient.” Sundance’s gaze fell into the crackling flames and a grief-heavy sigh slipped out. “What might become of us, I wonder? How long might we live? In what ways will the land change us, Paradox? I don’t know about you, but I’m becoming… something else.” 

“I don’t know.” Paradox’s response was almost a squeak. 

Sundance’s many worries only multiplied as he poured his heart out to those around him. “Getting married and starting a family… how do I do that? I mean, falling in love already seems impossibly complicated, but now, now, now I have to find somepony that is good for the barony. It can’t just be anypony, no… somehow, I have to find just the right pony to be baroness. I can’t even begin to imagine. There’s all this talk of having to lower one’s standards and then making things work, but I don’t have that luxury. I have to up my standards to impossible levels so I don’t end up with somepony bad for the barony… or worse, stuck with some gold-digging socialite posing as a do-gooder, only for her to reveal her true colours after the marriage. I have bad dreams at night and I barely even allow myself to think about this stuff, because I just can’t handle it.” 

Skyla—who now sat beside Nuance—wrapped one wing around both him and Quiet as she said to Sundance, “You know, you could talk to my mother. She could help you find somepony. That’s what she does.” 

These words struck him like an anvil and Sundance stared at the alicorn filly as if she’d grown a second head. When a lump rose in his throat, he couldn’t swallow it, no matter how hard he tried, and his lips felt extra dry when he licked them. He watched as Skyla took her other wing and brushed Nuance’s mane away from his face. Talking to Princess Cadance? Something about that filled him with dread and unease, but he couldn’t fathom why. 

Yet, he could not deny that it would be a perfectly adequate solution. 

“You think you have it bad… try being me.” It looked as though Corbie might collapse in upon herself at any moment. “My mother is Celestia. She of the Radiant Dawn. My father is Gosling… the Great Reformer. Radiance, my brother, is already being called one of the greatest military minds of this era, and Nuance”—she cast a quick squinty glance at her sibling—“he shows signs of greatness when he’s not acting like a spaz. I’m surrounded by ponies who get more done in an hour than I’ll ever accomplish in my life. I didn’t get my mother or my father’s good looks. Brains? I don’t have them. You… you’re a baron and you’ve got all of this wonderful purpose… purpose that I’d give anything for. I’m not good at anything. I’m not special. And hearing all of you talk about all these meaningful things when my own life feels like dead wind… it just makes me miserable.” 

In the fire, a log popped and crumbled into glowing embers. 

“These conversations always just sort of leave me out in the cold, you know?” Corbie wrapped her wings around herself, and then fell silent. The reflection of the flames could be seen in the lenses of her glasses and her mouth contorted into a lemon-sucking scowl. 

It was Nuance who responded to his sister’s distress. “Corbie—” 

“Don’t ‘Corbie’ me, Nuance.” The normally cheerful filly scowled at her brother, and behind the flames reflected in her glasses, her eyes were dark. “Today, I had an almost-perfect day. I got to read to a sick filly and I didn’t feel totally worthless. It was great. But now… now I’m here, with all of you, and I’m reminded of just how barely adequate I am and it sucks.” 

To his credit, Nuance tried again. “Corbie—” 

“No!” She raised one hoof while cutting her brother off. “It’s even worse coming from you. Look at you. You’re sitting in the dirt. I still remember when just touching dirt or getting dirty would give you anxiety attacks and your nose would start bleeding. You’ve made friends with Skyla… somehow, you’ve won over your worst enemy. Just look at you two, all close together like you’re besties. You’re doing something with your life, even if it’s just fixing your issues. But me? It seems like no matter how much I flap my wings, I don’t budge an inch.” 

For the third time, Nuance tried to come to his sister’s aid. “Corbie, please—” 

“I’m going to bed,” the flustered pegasus filly announced. “Really sorry I ruined your nice time. Olive! Olive! Where are you? I need you! I want to go back to the ship right now!” 

Watching as poor Corbie rushed off felt truly miserable, and for Sundance, this was not how he wanted to end his day. Perhaps tomorrow would be better. After a quick glance around, he could see how miserable his companions were, and he wasn’t sure how to help them. Out of all of them though, Nuance had it the worst, and his expression was one of intense pain, as if he’d stepped on a thorn. 

“It doesn’t feel right,” Nuance muttered, “to have my fortunes rise while those of my sister sink…”
> Dealing with inflation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance stood on the spot where the foundations for the gatehouse would soon be laid. It was barely past dawn, but already there was a flurry of activity, a reminder of the resiliency of teenagers and the young. His back had a fierce itch to it and it seemed as though his skin had done an amazing job of knitting itself together just a bit more overnight. Some areas had closed completely, but others needed just a little more time. 

He waited, worried, concerned. Corbie was at a tough age, and he remembered being that age himself, with the impossibly confusing teenage years just on the horizon. After Corbie’s sudden departure last night, he had a long conversation with Skyla, who seemed entirely too self-aware for a filly her age. Near the end of the conversation, Skyla suggested that Corbie was too old for toys, but too young for boys—a witticism that left Sundance uncomfortable for reasons he could not give voice to. 

It was rough hitting that age. He thought of his own experiences; he had dabbled, experimented, and snuck about, fearful of his mother discovering his secretive activities. But ultimately, he never got around to sorting himself out. Now, as an adult, he was every bit as apprehensive about his development as a pony more than half his age. 

Though he had no idea what he wanted to say to Corbie, he hoped to offer her some reassurance, a word or two about how it got better. Except, now as he stood here thinking about it, he wasn’t so sure it did get better. He was, for the most part, still unsorted. How and why he could relate to a filly, a foal, was beyond him, but here he was, nervous and tongue tied, but hopeful that he could help. There was the distinct feeling that Nuance and Corbie didn’t get out of the castle much, and might have a few friendship issues. 

It was something he understood well enough to leave him quite uncomfortable. 



 

“Corbie!” 

Sundance hurried forward when he saw her coming in for a landing on the airstrip. Not yet a good flier, or even an adequate flier, she needed plenty of room to come down. It occurred to him that being kept under guard in a castle did not give her much chance to develop her flight skills, and for a pegasus pony, flight skills were everything. The fact that she risked these potentially embarrassing landings rather than use the lift spoke volumes for her character, and he found that he admired her spirit. 

She came down hard and almost took a tumble. Her left front fetlock suffered a bit of a twist and for a moment, Sundance almost ran over to her—but then he realised just how embarrassing that might be. However bad it was, she recovered, and after a bit of a clippity, cloppity run, she came to a skidding halt with plenty of runway to spare. 

“I’m glad to see you—” 

“You are?” Corbie folded her wings against her sides, pursed her lips, and blew her mane away from her glasses, which were now fogged over from her efforts. 

“Last night—” 

“I had one of my moments last night.” Again, she tried to blow her mane away from her face, but it just spilled back down. “It’s hard, you know? Yesterday was almost perfect. It was just what I needed. I need to be needed. Nuance… he’s getting better and he needs me less and less. He has Quiet, so he’s ignoring me, and that always stings a bit. But helping Amber made me feel good. And I’d like to do that now.” 

She looked up at him, expectantly. 

“I won’t keep you,” Sundance said to her and his soft response got him a smile. “Just remember… we’re family. I’d like for us to be more than friends. If you ever need to talk—” 

“You’ll be there for me?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, but his actions felt inadequate, unable to convey the depth of his feelings. Glancing about, he struggled to find meaningful words, but those were in short supply. “I know how you feel.” His sudden disclosure offered no comfort, no satisfaction. The words were hard, bitter, like a pill that didn’t want to be swallowed. 

“Feeling inadequate, I mean.” Dropping his gaze, he stared down at his own hooves. “Being around all of you… even you, Corbie, it just calls attention to the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing. All of you… all of you have the best education that money can buy. Education that only the royals can afford. You’re born with every advantage and you can get anything and everything you want out of life. Skyla… I can’t even connect with Skyla. When I’m around her I just feel self-conscious. I’m passive. So far, I’ve just been letting things happen and you… all of you… you show up and suddenly there’s these plans and progress is made, and so many things happen all at once. So yeah… I understand how you feel about your brothers and feeling inadequate.” 

“When it matters, you do right.” 

“I do?” 

“You took me to help Amber,” she replied. “And right now, you’re trying to make me feel better. You stood here, waiting. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a bit ditzy and I don’t always pay attention, but I noticed. You worried about me, didn’t you?” 

“I did,” he confessed. 

“Thank you.” Corbie sighed the muted, soft-spoken words. “I’m the quiet mostly well-behaved one. Sometimes, I have to cause trouble just to get noticed at all.” She smiled and her wings fidgeted against her sides. “I really need to go. I bet Amber is dying to know what happens next. Her mom, too. And Lemongrass. Walk with me?” 

He nodded. “Sure, I’d like that.” 

“You’re very nice.” The filly bowed her head for a moment, almost apprehensive. “Again, thank you.” 



 

Still bright and early, the first foundation for a dome home was already poured. Sundance watched, eager, curious, all of his senses almost overloaded. The air smelled of ozone, of earth, the weird smell of cloudcrete that defied description. With everything that had to happen in such a short span of time, a brisk pace had been established by Commander Humblewood. 

While the foamy cloudcrete was still bubbly, an immense inflatable form surrounded by multiple layers of wire mesh was lowered into the foundation, and pressed down deep. This displaced the cloudcrete, pushing it up the sides of the foundation, until it almost, but not quite, overflowed the sides. It was just the perfect amount, a sign that everything was proceeding according to plan. Sundance had wondered why they’d filled the depression in the ground almost halfway full, and now he had his answer: the inflatable form turned a thick mass of cloudcrete into a thin shell. 

With the inflatable form and the wire mesh cage now in place, more fluffy bits of cloudcrete were added, sprayed from a loud machine that belched clouds of ozone-scented steam. These blobs stuck to the rough fabric of what Sundance thought of as a really ugly balloon, one covered in the dust and grit of previous projects. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, the cloudcrete stuck to the sides of the inflatable form that gave shape to the inner structure, and little by little, bit by bit, it stuck to the wire mesh and gained thickness. 

A city-dweller, Sundance had watched a great many buildings constructed, but he’d never seen anything like this. No girders were hoisted with a crane, no massive panels of steel or glass, no slabs of concrete stacked up like a foal’s collection of wooden blocks—right before his eyes, the dome was taking shape, squirted out like lightning-infused cake batter from some mad machine. 

Sparks flew along the thick metal wires and crackled as fresh cloudcrete was added. 

Everything now smelled hot. The metallic tang of heated metal tickled Sundance’s nose and made him want to sneeze. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that the cloudcrete was baking itself somehow, through some means unknown to him. A dome was slowly taking shape as more cloudcrete was added, and when everything was said and done, the inflatable support would be deflated and removed. 

There were windows visible, their rough shape only now manifesting, and the door was in the place where the umbilicals connected to the inflatable form that gave shape to the dome as it was constructed. It was like making an egg—or in this case, a dome. Once everything was done, when it was finished, there would be a solid, seamless structure that would endure. 

“That’s what I like to see,” Commander Humblewood said in a booming voice that almost echoed through the box canyon. “A damn-near perfect job. Pay attention, you lot. Some of you have experience. Some of you don’t. For those of you that don’t, today is the day you learn. I want nine more domes raised today, so the finishing teams can get to work. Tomorrow, I’ll want another ten domes raised. We’ll work at night, if we must, but we’re finishing ten domes a day.” 

A few of the more enthusiastic sorts raised a cheer, and Commander Humblewood cracked a hard smile. There was an energy here, a shared sense of purpose. These kids had enlisted with the desire to change the world, and here they were, doing it. Sundance felt it in his bones and his re-awakened idealism remembered exactly how it felt, wanting the world to change, but fearing that it never would—or worse, gradually believing that it would only change for the worse. This army, this Corps of Gringineers, their energy was infectious and Sundance felt quite revitalised. 

Change was possible, and the proof was right before his eyes. He had been changing things as well, but for whatever reason, he’d failed to recognise what he’d done. Hiring Corduroy was far more meaningful than he’d first realised, and it was only now, at this moment, as the first of the domes took shape that he understood what he was a part of—and it almost took him right down to the ground. It was only here, together, united for a common cause, a shared goal, that the change became apparent. 

“Get to work, you lot!” Commander Humblewood barked. “Causae communi!”

And then, in response, with many voices raised as one, “Causae communi!”

Sundance had no idea what it meant, but something about it left him filled to the brim with hope. 



 

Skyla examined the dome with a critical eye as she walked around it. Sundance too, studied it, but he stood still, in one spot. Two arched windows, one on each side, and an arched door with a peaked top. It had no glass, no door, it wasn’t even finished yet. Just a shell that would be transformed into a domicile somehow. 

“We need these in the Crystal Empire,” Skyla said as she continued her slow circuit around the dome. “I understand the need for aesthetics, but the crystal shapers can’t keep up with the demand. Every homeless pony, every homeless creature, they are evidence of our failure, and something must be done. An empire is only as prosperous as the least of its subjects.” 

“Aye.” Berry Briar offered up a respectful nod to Skyla. “Well said.” 

“Get a lot of immigrants coming your way?” Sundance asked. 

“Some,” Skyla replied, “but that’s not the real problem. The real problem is that the Crystal Empire has become Equestria’s hospital city. We have hospital trains and hospital airships that bring ponies to the Crystal Empire. Then we have the mass-marriages and everything else. Where do we house all these ponies seeking aid? Seeking services? An actual hospital has waiting rooms, and patient rooms… but we’re a hospital city and our patients vastly outnumber what is available to shelter them. The numbers fluctuate far too much.” 

“That’s, uh…” Fearing that he might sound stupid, Sundance allowed his words to trail off. 

“You and I have something in common.” For a moment, Skyla’s lips pursed together, and all of her princessly poise was lost to her intensely sour expression. But she recovered, found her smile, and struck a commanding pose. “We’ve both inherited our woes. You have a fixer-upper barony, and I’m getting a fully functioning city that is just riddled with problems. That’s our life. Royals, nobles, we’re just normal ponies really, with really ginormous problems. We don’t have to fix them, but we do. Might be because we’re stupid, I have not yet fully discounted that possibility.” 

“If not us”—Sundance stroked his chin with his wing—“then who?” 

“Exactly.” Skyla, now fully restored to her prim and proper self, flashed a confident smile. 

“Baron Sundance.” Commander Humblewood took a moment to clear his throat. “Would you like to have a look inside?”
> A cavalcade of progression
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were two types of magic in the world for Sundance; things that were magical and things that seemed magical. The magic of the barony was the former, and the dome home was the latter. He stuck his head inside and was immediately entranced. What had he been expecting? Not this—not this by a long shot. Just inside the door, he froze and had himself a look around. 

“Watch your step, Baron,” Commander Humblewood said from behind. “There’s quite a drop and no rail yet.” 

There was indeed. Just beyond the door was a raised landing, and to the left, there was a long, smooth, curved ramp that wrapped halfway around the interiour. And what an interiour! The inside had to be at least four yards across at the widest point of the circle, which was far, far more spacious than he’d first expected. Because it was a dome, he expected very little usable floor space near the walls, because of the curvature, and that a pony could only stand up in the middle. But this was not the case. The floor was sunk down into the ground by over a yard, with walls that were almost straight up and down belowground—which in his mind made the structure almost egg shaped. 

Turning left, he made his way down the ramp and felt the rough concrete scraping against his hooves. There was a wet smell in here, with a hint of ozone, like the wet aftermath of a thunderstorm. The cloudcrete was textured like the surface of the inflatable form that had held up the middle. Though it wasn’t much, he could see the potential, and he liked what he saw. 

“It’ll be smoother when we’re done,” Humblewood remarked as he too,  entered. “A rail will be installed, a wood-burning stove, the windows, the doors. In my opinion, the windows are a smart piece of work. There’s a simple mechanism that allows vents above the windows to be opened or closed, and with the vents open, you get some scientific mumbo-jumbo that moves the heat out of here as it rises to the ceiling. Most of the kids around here could explain it in detail, but not me. Natural air conditioning, apparently, and drops the inside temperature by up to twenty degrees. Is there anything that science can’t do?” 

“I take it you did something else before doing this?” Standing at the bottom of the ramp, Sundance looked up at Humblewood. 

“Begging your pardon, Baron, but I can’t say much of what I used to do. What I can tell you is, I once coordinated and facilitated the movement of troops, supplies, and hardware into and out of hostile territory where we might have not been welcomed. Now, I sort of do the same… I coordinate and facilitate the movement of troops, supplies, and hardware, but now instead of sowing terror, our arrival brings cheers and tears of joy. I rather like this job a whole lot better, and for reasons I cannot begin to understand, the kids love me even though sometimes I’m a hardass. A bunch of inner-city hoodlums and hooligans. I bet I’m the first father-figure that most of them have ever had in their whole sorry lives, and I let my knowledge of that rule my every action.” 

Blinking, ears splayed, Sundance was not expecting such an outpouring from Humblewood. It made him think about his own position, which left him feeling self-conscious and self-aware. He thought of Amber Dawn and how she’d clung to him after she was rescued. Looking right into Humblewood’s eyes, Sundance nodded and hoped that he could silently convey what he was feeling, though that was a foolish hope. 

“It’s a real rush of power, let me tell you,” Humblewood continued. “Before, with but a word, I could wipe a whole city off of a map. I had the ways and means to erase it from existence. We erased assets… the very building blocks of civilisation. Putting it back is far more satisfying. Now, I give a command and a whole city is built. Dams are constructed. Simple factories. These kids, these recruits… they’re all starry-eyed and eager, and they will do anything I tell them to do. It’s healed a lot of old hurts, let me tell you.” 

“I’d imagine,” Sundance replied, attempting to be pleasant, though he lacked all understanding. The only thing that was easy to understand was that Humblewood was here for a reason; a career soldier trying to atone for a few regrets—or many, as the case might be. 

“The wood stove goes right here, by the landing in front of the door. Something about a thermal bank. There’s extra concrete in the ramp that the wood stove heats. We put a bunk bed just to the right of the landing, so a pony can climb into the upper bunk from up here. Efficient use of space, I’m told. Up to four beds can be placed, though six can be crammed into here if necessary. But that’s cramped. Two bunk beds leaves a bit of comfortable floor space and makes use of the tall interiour. Second option is we can build a split-level, and construct a wooden platform that adds a sort of loft. In my experience, foals love this option. The space beneath the loft is like a fort to them, and is perfect for beds, or storage, or whatever.” 

“That sounds intriguing.” Sundance tried to imagine the split-level loft, and couldn’t. The inside was tall enough for such a thing though, but the loft area would have to deal with a sloping wall. Still, might be nice. It’d be about two yards wide at center, and a half-circle in shape, he supposed. Not much space on either end, due to the nature of circles, but a fair amount of space in the middle, right about where the light from the windows would shine. 

After a bit of thought, he said to Humblewood, “Do both. An even split. The residents can sort out amongst themselves what they want and what appeals to them.” 

“One more thing, Baron.” Humblewood cleared his throat, almost coughing, and then continued, “We can put about twenty domes here in the box canyon. Sure, we could cram in a few more, but then everything would be a bit tight. Might start taking up space used for crops and what not. Plus, there’s planned expansion for other buildings. So the other twenty—” 

“Must go outside of the box canyon.” Sundance scowled so that the rough edges of his teeth scraped against his cheeks. 

“My advice is to have them hug the natural wall and follow the path that leads eastward to the orchard, Baron. We’ll space them out and it’ll be like a country lane. A good start to a future city. Future development can follow the same line, and with houses on both sides, you’ll have a nice street in the middle. But that’s the future, of course. For now, all twenty houses should hug the rise.” 

Taking a moment to consider Humblewood’s advice, Sundance found himself in agreement. It was sound advice, practical, and laid out the foundation for future growth. The box canyon couldn’t shelter them all, and sooner or later, they’d grow out past its sheltering embrace. There was the orchard too, and the barrows there. Life beyond the keep was necessary, he realised, as this was just the place where everypony retreated as the once great city fell. 

Now, it was time to reclaim. 



 

A seed slept through winter so that it could sprout come spring. The barony, a seed, had endured a long and terrible winter. It had diminished into near-nothingness. But a part of it, a mere seed of it, had survived—and now sprouted. Sundance watched as those young and old laboured together, united for a common cause, a shared goal. Seeing what he saw humbled him and left him in awe. 

The oldest and the most dilapidated of the old hovels were knocked down and new foundations laid. No one was sad to see them go, at least Sundance didn’t think so. Before the day was done, nine more domes would be in place. The very first dome was getting finished now, as he watched. Windows would soon be installed, the interiour underwent its transformation, and a cube of sod strips was ready to go. 

Earth was leveled as the foundations for the gatehouse took shape. It was rapid work and little Nuance was a surprisingly good coordinator. He wasn’t bossy, or mean, but rather, encouraging and kind. The colt knew just where to have materials stacked, what needed to go where, and what still needed to be procured. Stone was needed; a great deal of stone would be required to build the gatehouse, and this was currently being gathered as the foundations were laid out. 

A group of unicorns were using magic to bake blobs of clay, which were then shattered into tiny pieces and poured into the metal tank now getting finished over Corduroy’s infirmary. Sundance didn’t understand the science behind it, but the sand, gravel, and porous baked clay shards would somehow clean the water. All manner of clever solutions were deployed to make the water system work, and a massive telescopic swingarm would allow water from the waterfall to pour into the tank. When the tank was filled, the collapsible swingarm could be folded away. 

It was still highly advised that the water be boiled. 

As for Corduroy’s infirmary itself, it now had windows, a source of heat, and an addition in rapid construction out back. The aesthetics of the building could only be described as crazed ingenuity, with the metal water tank over the roof and the extension sprouting out of the back. A group of pegasus ponies were constructing a windmill of sorts that would be placed above the water tank. Sundance had no idea what it was for, or what it would do, but it appeared as though it would be tall enough to catch the strong gusts that blew down the mountains and over the box canyon. 

The first of the cloudcrete slabs was now raised and secured into place, one wall of four for the new communal kitchen. Sauerkraut Pie was beside herself and ran about in circles, because Sundance had told her that the kitchen was constructed for her. The elderly mare was acting half her age, or maybe a quarter, or quite possibly a tenth. She gamboled about, pronking, whinnying and wickering with each bounce. 

Sundance found the first wall quite fascinating, because it was sloped—terraced almost. Narrow at top, broad at the bottom, it had what could only be described as narrow shelf-steps that sloped downward at an angle. It was an odd construction, and Sundance had been told that when the building was completed, the angled walls would be covered in sod. The roof would be an arch, and that too, would be blanketed with sod. Everything was built for thermal efficiency, and to endure the harsh, unforgiving weather that the barony endured. 

The two long walls and the arched roof would create a continuous gentle slope on both sides, while the front and back of the building would have regular walls, walls with windows and doors. Something almost tent shaped, at least on the outside. Overall, the kitchen would be long, narrow, and efficient. Water would be supplied from the tank above Corduroy’s infirmary. Cob ovens would be constructed for the baking of food. Sundance had no idea what a cob oven was, but he was repeatedly assured that it was the best possible solution for the barony’s bakery. 

A covered breezeway would connect the communal kitchen to the dining hall, an addition that Sundance couldn’t wait to see. It wasn’t much, but it would shelter the cooks from the weather as food was brought from one place to another. With more ponies arriving, more mouths to feed, the cooks would be busier than ever, so doing something, anything, that made their lives a bit more pleasant was a good thing. 

“Sire, ya seem to have a guest approaching.” 

Sundance turned to look at the young mare that had spoken to him. She was cute, in her own way, with dimples and her mane was damp with sweat. His eyes followed every hard edge of her physique, and he could not help himself; he found himself attracted to this earth pony. Broad of shoulder, wide of back, with wide hips, her stocky frame was covered in bulging, rippling muscles that bunched beneath her smooth reddish hide. She had a sledgehammer for a cutie mark, which he found quite intriguing. Even more appealing was the fact that she was taller than him by a head, maybe more. 

“Like what ya see, Yer Grace?” 

He was about to say no, but his mouth betrayed him. “Yes.” 

“So does my fiancé.” The young mare let out a whooping laugh and offered a wink of consolation. “Aw, shucks, yer sweet. It’s not often I get a feller that appreciates my big, beautiful body. It’s flattering, it is. Feel free to look all ya want. But don’t look too long, ya gots to look after that guest I was told to tell ya about.” 

Just one of her legs was thicker than his neck. 

Perfect mares existed; but as with so many other perfect things, had exceptional rarity. 

“Thank you for informing me…” He paused, with no idea of what else to say, and spent a moment tongue tied. It wasn’t often that he found himself in this position, and was even rarer when he allowed himself to look. His mother had told him that it was rude to stare, but with this exquisite creature, he found that he couldn’t help himself. If his mother was here, he might get wing-slapped upside his head, but in this instance, it would be totally worth it. 

“Ain’t you a charming one,” the young mare said, her green eyes bright and merry. “I gots to go. See ya, handsome.” 

“Goodbye…” 

“It’s Applebutter. Private Applebutter. I gots me a foundation that gots to get laid.” With her final parting innuendo, she laughed, a boisterous bellowing laugh that made her sides heave.
> From out of the wilderness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A lone unicorn approached from the south and had reached the place where stones were gathered. He was small, unassuming, and young—easily mistaken for one of the many teenagers running amok. But he wasn’t, and Sundance could only guess that guards were watching the area for strangers. What precious treasures guards like Olive protected. The visitor almost seemed to limp, perhaps from exhaustion. If he came from the railroad depot, which was a possibility, that was quite a long walk. 

Gothcruz had walked from Ponyville with a heavy load, but the zurro was shockingly sturdy. 

Sundance trotted between the works, trying to stay out of the way. Stout earth ponies used massive levers to pry stone blocks out of the ground. It was a bit like pulling teeth, in some odd, weird way, and left Sundance uncomfortable when he thought about it. Quiet worked among them, and though she was young, a filly, she had exceptional strength. Once pulled free, the stone blocks would be examined, their suitability would be determined, and the ones that made the grade would be used to build the gatehouse. 

Many of the blocks were damaged in some way. 

A griffon of stout build worked with a group of earth ponies and Sundance watched them as he passed. It was good to see them working together, and Sundance thought of Gage, whom he hadn’t seen much of. The barony’s sole griffon resident was no doubt still getting himself established. Watching the workers working was a much needed reminder for more diversity, and Sundance was determined to have it. 

Remembering to smile, Sundance closed the distance. 



 

The unicorn was a colt—a young colt. Maybe not a foal, but certainly not a stallion. He was out of breath, wide-eyed, covered in burrs, scabbed over with scratches, caked with mud, and had absolutely nothing on him. No supplies, no water, no nothing. Somehow, this colt had survived a harsh, unforgiving wilderness to be here, and Sundance found himself admiring that. 

“Hey,” Sundance shouted in what he hoped was a commanding voice. “Somepony bring me some water!” Then, in a far kinder, far more welcome voice, he said, “Hey there. You alright?” 

“I made it!” The colt’s voice was rough, scratchy, and clearly dehydrated. He sat down, or maybe his back-half just fell down from exhaustion. A pleased smile could be seen on his face, and fierce determination glinted in his eyes. “Paradise!” 

“Hey kid, not sure if you’ve noticed, but this place smells a lot more like Tartarus than paradise,” a nearby earth pony said. 

“I think I’m going to have my nurse have a look at you.” Sundance eyed the many scabby scratches and couldn’t tell if they came from flora or fauna. “You have a name?” 

“Sorry.” The colt gulped in a few deep breaths before he replied, “My name is Double Helping.” 

“Well, that’s an interesting name you don’t hear every day.” When the colt’s stomach growled, Sundance scowled. 

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell it to you if you let me stay.” 

“You have a deal, Double… but first, I’m going to have my nurse have a look at you. Catch your breath. I think some water is coming.” Turning around, Sundance used his most commanding voice to shout, “Somepony find Corduroy and get her out here. Now! Like, five minutes ago!” 



 

Double Helping told quite a story while Corduroy looked him over and patched him up. The colt had just turned fourteen not long ago, was booted out of the orphanage, and told to enlist. He took the free ticket to Canterlot to enlist, but had gotten off at the railroad depot, because he’d heard stories about the barony in both the papers and the radio. With no food, no water, no supplies, he spent almost a week wandering the wilderness, though the colt admitted that he’d lost track of the days. 

“...and as for my name, which I promised I’d tell you, my name is Double Helping because I’m always hungry. Or was. I was in charge of keeping the floors mopped and I only found out recently that it was my constant use of magic that left me hungry, and not because I was an ungrateful cuss who didn’t appreciate the Crown-required daily nutrition that I’d been given.” 

Corduroy’s head swiveled around, her ears perked, and Sundance saw her give him The Look. He was all too familiar with The Look, but at the moment, Corduroy’s sheer ferocity caused him to take a step back. She was angry, or frustrated, or something, and her displeasure caused her jowls to tremble. 

“So you came here,” Sundance said to the colt, “rather than enlist in the guard.” 

“Well, it was that, or work in some factory, or whatever.” The colt winced and hissed as Corduroy ripped away a spiny burr. “That stings!” 

“You’ll live,” was the nurse’s deadpan response. 

“But… why did you come here?” asked Sundance. 

“To make my own future,” the colt replied. “And so that I’d never have to mop another floor ever again. I’ll do anything you ask of me, anything, I’ll even wash windows, but never tell me to mop the floor.” 

Sundance sighed and thumped his wings against his ribs. 

“How’d you know where to stop?” Corduroy ripped away another burr and a huge hank of filthy white hair came with it. As the poor colt yelped, she patted him on the head, but continued her unrelenting assault upon the many burrs lodged in his hide. 

“I asked the conductor,” the colt whimpered. 

“But why here?” Sundance’s wings wouldn’t stop fidgeting, and his back itched. He cringed a bit as he watched Corduroy’s not-so-gentle ministrations, but knew that his nurse had the colt’s best intentions in mind. Pulling burrs off slowly would be cruel torture—pulling them off fast was the only way to remove them. “Why come here?” 

“I wanted to be a part of something.” The colts teary eyes added a certain sincerity to his words, and as Corduroy ripped away yet another burr, the tears in the colt’s eyes ran down his filthy cheeks. “They talk about you on the radio… Equestria’s last frontier. Just an honest, brave pegasus determined to reclaim his barony from the savage wilderness.” 

Corduroy snorted. 

“Kid, we’re in the shadow of the Canterhorn and Canterlot. This is hardly a frontier.” Even as he spoke, Sundance felt his stomach knotting from tension. Why, he’d heard nothing about this on the radio, but reception was limited, and he had no idea what might be broadcast in the big cities. But the fact that some kid had braved the wilderness with no supplies, no preparation, that unnerved him. 

Once he was healed up enough to fly, he might have to do regular checks of the wilderness between the barony and the depot, so that he might find lost travellers—and not bodies. Bodies would be bad. Double Helping was a fast runner, and he’d hid in a briar patch, but other travelers might end up as food. As for Gothcruz, the zurro had arrived unscathed, and Sundance made a mental note to ask about it the next time he saw the lorekeeper. 

“Alright, Double… what are you good at?” asked Sundance. 

“I dunno.” The colt tried to shy away from Corduroy, but such a thing was impossible, and she began to work on the next patch of burrs. “For the past ten years or so, it’s been my job to keep the floors clean, and between that and school, I never got a chance to do much else. Never got my mark. Big Marm told me that you get marks if you join the guard, they’re standard issue. Could I get more water?” 

Before Sundance could respond, Corduroy did. Reaching out, she lifted the stainless steel ladle from the wooden bucket and held it up to Double Helping’s lips. Sundance saw the gentleness that he knew his nurse possessed, and he hoped that the colt might see her softer, more caring side. But Double Helping drank too much, too fast, almost choked, coughed, and sputtered. 

Something had to be done. Gothcruz’s arrival brought with it the illusion of safety, but with Double Helping, a different picture had formed. Sundance could feel the tension in his scalp, the sort of tension that threatened to give him a thudding headache. He thought of Hollyhock and her foals; he’d picked them up from the depot and made short work of the considerable distance. But what if Hollyhock—and her foals—had wandered through the wilderness? The thought made him feel jittery, sort of like how he felt jittery when he flew too close to a building and felt bricks against his wingtips. 

He was having a difficult baron moment; of that he was certain. Sundance feared that his own emotions would trample him. Though he was in control, though he was in charge, there were things beyond his control—such as rampaging owlbears arriving unannounced and dangerous stretches of wilderness. His wingpits felt hot, prickly, and the back of his neck felt sweaty. 

A fourteen year old colt might have died because of stories on the radio. 

Refusing to give in to despair, to anger, Sundance chose to be practical. “Did you get any sort of magical schooling at all?” 

“Yes, actually,” Double Helping replied as Corduroy wiped water away from his now somewhat cleaner chin. “Big Marm had got me some telekinesis training, so I could mop the floors better. I was the only unicorn there,  and she was always pointing out how much it cost her to have this done for little me all by myself, and how important it was to be grateful. And my tutor said that all that mopping made my telekinesis pretty strong… by any standard. It’s a lot of hard work and constant motion.” 

“I see.” Sundance offered up a perfunctory nod of response. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” The colt licked his dirty lips and then made a disgusted face. He shuddered a bit, Corduroy wiped his chin a bit more, and then he continued, “The orphanage wasn’t awful… it just wasn’t good. I guess it was just a place. We got Hearth’s Warming presents, got a weekly allotment of candy, got to see a movie once every two months, and we never froze in the winter. It’s just… we were expected to work for it. Work got us rewards. My work was mopping the floor.” 

Cupping Double Helping’s chin in her paw, Corduroy looked down in the colt’s eyes, sighed, and shook her head. “This is an awful, dreary place. It’s cold. There’s no movie theatre for hundreds of miles in any direction. Candy is in short supply. You’ll probably freeze in the winter. You… if you stay here, you’ll see how good you had it. This place seems lively now, and it is, but this isn’t how it is, normally. The work is hard, the food is kind of awful, and entertainment is in short supply.” 

Watching the workers work, Sundance tried to quell his jitters, his anxiety, and focused on what might come out of this situation. Young or not, Double Helping was a unicorn, and they needed unicorns so that unicorny things could get done. Magic—any magic—was indispensable. Cucumber proved that. Lemongrass was too young and if Paradox was busy, having another unicorn around to do magical stuff would be fantastic. Necessary even. 

This time, when Double Helping yelped, Sundance barely noticed. 

“Corduroy… I need you to do something.” 

“What’s that, Sundance?” 

“Carry this poor soul back, and see that he gets fed.” 

“Well, his frogs are bloody and scabby… I guess I can carry him.” 

“Also… Corduroy.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Once he’s eaten, work out your scrubbing frustrations on him. I want me a white unicorn that is actually white. We have visitors… guests… outsiders. We have standards that must be presented. See to those, will you?” 

“Oh… that I can do!” 

A hard gulp was heard from Double Helping. 

“Welcome to the barony, Double. You and I, we’ll talk later. Consider yourself one of us.” 

“Thank you—” 

“No, don’t thank me now. Give it a few days.” Sundance smiled a knowing smile. “Corduroy, see that he is sorted out.” 

“Can do,” the steadfast nurse replied. 

“As for myself, I’m going to walk around and watch as everything comes together.”
> 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.”
> Bearer of bad news
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rustic was a harried, red-eyed, anxious mess, and Sundance’s first instinct was to sweep his friend up into a swift, crushing hug. Surely, being boarded and harassed by the guards hadn’t helped matters any, but right now didn’t feel like the right time to say something about that. Something was wrong though; the unicorn wasn’t at all groomed and he was not his calm, reassured self. 

“Where’s Turmeric?” Rustic’s voice was scratchy and rather weak, with none of its usual silkiness. 

“Is something wrong?” asked Sundance. 

“Yeah… there is plenty wrong.” 

“Care to tell me?” 

“No.” With abrupt suddenness, Rustic became focused and collected. “Not until there is something to tell, Sundance. You have enough to worry about.” 

“Oh, this is about me, is it? Us?” 

“Damnation!” The word was spat out and Rustic’s mustache bristled as if the profane utterance had left a bad taste in his mouth. “I’m sorry, I can’t go into this right now. It would be a very long and drawn out conversation if I did, and would cause you all kinds of worry, so I—” 

“You do realise that I am worried right now, correct?” 

“Of course I do!” Rustic snapped. “I’m not doing well under all this pressure.” His voice became apologetic. “Not doing well at all. A long question and answer session would only further exacerbate my problem, like rubbing poison sumac on hives.” 

This time, Sundance did not relent, and spreading his wings out wide, he collided against his friend, closed his wings around him, and gave him a squeeze. Rustic squirmed a bit, no doubt trying to pull away, or perhaps he found the feathers ticklesome. The smaller unicorn that Sundance held smelled like ink, tea, and something foreignly spicy. 

“When I know more, I’ll tell you, I promise.” Rustic’s words were muffled, but understandable. “By the way, you smell like really bad eggs…” 



 

The tin teacup jittered in Rustic’s sparking telekinesis and the tea within threatened to slosh over the sides. He was a bit calmer now, not quite so frantic, and the fastidious unicorn was even trying to smooth out his mustache, which Sundance took as a good sign. Seeing his friend so shaken was unnerving, and whatever was wrong, it was safe to assume that it was quite bad. 

“Turmeric, I’m sorry. I feel really bad, I do. You want to stay, I know it. But I need you with me. Your eye for detail and your organisational skills… I don’t trust anypony else. All of this has me so anxious, because I know what you want and I’m fully aware that you have a hard time telling me no… or anypony else, for that matter.” 

“If I knew what was going on—” 

“If I told you what was going on right now, Sundance would know.” 

“Would that be so bad?” Turmeric turned about, round and round in a circle, almost chasing his own tail. 

“Yes.” Rustic nodded and his teacup bobbed in the air. “I’m worried that if I say even a little bit, there’ll be too many questions that I won’t have answers for, and then everything will be worse.” 

“I really like it here,” Turmeric said, almost whispering. “Been having the time of my life. There’s lots of queer teenagers here… and for once, I’m the older, wiser one with some answers. It feels good, you know? Because usually, I’m on the other end of things. My own life is still a mess… but talking with them, it’s helping me to sort everything out.” 

“And now I feel even worse asking you to come with me—” 

“Aw, Rustic, don’t feel bad. It’s important for us to talk. You and I… we need to stop being such sissies and have more heart to hearts. Though now might not be the best time. You and I, we’re too afraid of stepping on each other’s hooves and we control each other with passive-aggressive sniping.” 

“Uh, Turmeric—” 

“Oh, there’s been a lot of talking and I’ve learned a few things. I’ve come into my own.” 

Sundance, silent, watched as his two friends looked one another in the eye. 

Rustic drew in a deep breath and the tin teacup almost went still. A stiff breeze left cool kisses on Sundance’s sun-warmed hide. Turmeric had gone still, no longer chasing his tail, and now stood staring at Rustic. For a moment, all the hustle and bustle around them retreated, and for Sundance, it felt as though the world had gone still. 

“The banks smell money,” Rustic said to his companions. “A lot has happened all at once. At first, the banks wanted to be co-investors, so that Sundance’s debts can be reclaimed. But bank agents make for lousy investment partners. They have no cares for long term gain, only what they can get now, to get the debt paid off. When I told them that I had no interest in working with them, well, I suspect that I’m about to be muscled out the process entirely, and Sundance, Sundance… I’m afraid that they’ll go ahead with our idea for the sake of recovering what is owed. I don’t actually know what is going on. I’ve called in a favour with Raven, and I should have access to the barony’s financial records before sundown. And that’s why I need you, Turmeric. You have the best eye for detail. We need to go over those documents and come up with a plan.” 

As Sundance felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Turmeric said, “I understand.” 

Chewing on his lip, it was hard, almost impossible even, to not ask questions. Sundance knew that doing so would wreck the moment, and tried to be satisfied with what little he knew. Thinking about Skyla, and the things that Skyla had said, he chose action; action was something he could do, and so he took charge. 

“Turmeric, I need you to be the barony’s official spokespony in Canterlot.” 

“Spokespony?” Turmeric was an odd mix of confused and curious. 

“I do believe Sundance meant liaison,” Rustic said to Turmeric. “Also, I’m inclined to agree. This is a smart move. I’ll even pay you, Turmeric. You’ll be our liaison. Our coordinator.” 

“Me?” 

“I trust you,” Sundance said. “Do good for the barony. Act in my stead. Do what is necessary.” 

“This feels important—” 

“This is important.” Rustic smoothed out his mustache, and for the first time, he smiled. “Turmeric, you’ll spend time in Canterlot and here. Moving forward, we’ll need the means to coordinate our efforts. You are the ideal pony for the job. Sundance trusts you, and I trust you, and Sundance needs to focus his efforts here. It looks like an awful lot is happening.” 

“I’m flattered—” 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sundance said. 

“Well, I… of course that’s a yes. I do miss Canterlot. A lot, actually. But I love this place.” Blinking, Turmeric took a moment to compose himself and get himself under control. “Best of both worlds, really. Please, I need a moment to say goodbye to Corduroy, and then I’ll be ready to go. She’s my sweetheart!” 



 

With Turmeric gone, Sundance was left alone with Rustic. There was tension in the air, plenty of it, but Sundance kept temptation at bay. Rustic, sipping his tea, seemed to be recovering just a bit, and stood watching the busy goings-on happening all around him. For his part, Sundance tried to think noble thoughts, whilst he maintained a noble air, even though he really wanted to blurt out question after question. 

“Hey, Sundance…” 

One eyebrow arched as he looked over at his friend. 

“Did you know that your debt grows by about thirty-three gold bits a day?” 

This revelation caused Sundance to almost swallow his tongue. 

“I would imagine that those holding your debt are torn between collecting the whole sum and allowing the debt to grow ever-larger, for the sake of a greater return. Because of Princess Celestia, the barony is valuable. If for some reason, everything falls through, the debt defaults back to her. That’s the big legal issue with being immortal, you know. She founded this barony. By technicality, she’s still the rightful owner—because she’s the founder and she’s still alive. I’ve been doing a bit of study with the hopes that I could find some way to fix all of this.” 

Still reeling from everything said, Sundance stood in shocked silence. 

“Collecting would mean taking Princess Celestia to court somehow, and successfully putting the pinch on her.” Rustic sighed, sipped his tea, and shook his head. “After the Mister Mariner shakeup, I don’t think the banks want to antagonise Princess Celestia, so they just allow the debt to keep growing, no doubt hoping that everything will be paid off somehow, someday.” 

“I only learned a little about the debt,” Sundance confessed. “When it comes to this stuff, I’m pretty stupid. Once I was a bit more established, I was going to look into it. Or maybe I was just procrastinating. Pevensey was nice enough to deal with though. He didn’t strike me as being a jerk.” 

“Oh, Pevensey is a nice fellow, but he’s still a banker. He’s a shark, Sundance. All pleasant smiles and upper-upper-class etiquette. I spoke with him just yesterday. He politely suggested that I just walk away from this and let ponies who understand money deal with everything. But he was polite about it. Apologised with every other word.” 

This left Sundance rubbing his chin, and he recalled his own meeting with Pevensey. 

“That was a smart move with Turmeric,” Rustic remarked. 

Still stroking his chin, Sundance did not respond. 

“Princess Celestia plays a long game.” Rustic’s voice was low, hissy, and a good bit smoother after a spot of tea. He gestured at everything going on around him. “All of this benefits you, but in the long run, it benefits her too. I think. What do I know? I’m not immortal. Her logic and our logic aren’t the same. I’m thinking in financial terms, but she probably has other reasons for doing all of this, with the financial stuff being the least of her concerns. That’s the problem with ancient alicorns, Sundance. Inequine logic. They look a bit like us, but make no mistake, they’re not us. But she took one look at you, saw something that piqued her interest, and now she’s doing whatever it is she’s doing. Meanwhile, us mere mortals, the bankers, you and I, we’re just trying to sort out our lives and our finances and do all the stuff that us short-sighted mortals do. Her plans overlap our plans… it kind of makes me feel small.” 

No words graced Sundance’s lips. 

As for Rustic, he finished his tea in silence, with nothing more to say.
> An awkward encounter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pegasus ponies, by and large, did not take leaps of faith. As a species with wings, they were quite self-reliant when it came to such matters, and so it was an idiom largely lost upon them as a tribe. It was because of this peculiar fact that Sundance was having trouble; he was now entirely reliant upon his friends saving him from a trouble that he barely understood. More than that, his friends were potentially saving the barony, and the future of the barony. Beyond all of this, they were friends that he hardly knew, in the larger scope of things, with Turmeric being the one that he knew best. 

Leaps of faith were more of an earth pony phenomenon, as unicorn ponies used their magic to tweak the dice rolls of the universe to their liking. 

And so it was, with progress surrounding him on all sides, Sundance was left unsettled. Anxious. Fretful. In dire, desperate need of a good flight. With his emotional turmoil came grief, a profound sense of loss, and he found himself missing his retainer. Cucumber would have just the right words to say, said in the quaint manner in which he said them, and after a good talk, everything would be better. 

Alone in a crowd, surrounded by those who believed in him, in his cause, Sundance found himself isolated. His current choice of company was Cucumber’s grave and the tiny crystal tree; fine companions for his mood as he struggled to sort himself out. But the grave, it was silent, with no wisdom offered, and the tree had nothing to say. 

Some distance away, the gatehouse was raised with marvellous rapidity. The transition between natural canyon wall and stone blocks was almost seamless, a most curious achievement. Several domes were in various states of completion. The first dome, the demonstration dome, now had windows, a door, a stove pipe jutting out of the top, and strips of sod were now laid over the top of the miraculous structure. 

Surely Princess Celestia had a reason for allowing all of this to happen, even with his debt. There was some meaning to be had, to be found, some well-hidden treasure of wisdom. Was this a test of his mettle? It was a nebulous, almost abstract fearful thing that he barely understood. He wasn’t smart enough to understand the debt he’d been saddled with, only that it had grown for several generations. The previous Milord had inherited it—and did everything possible to make it worse. 

There was something to be said about the raw destructive power of compound interest. 

Sundance’s sigh was a heavy sigh indeed, the sort of sigh made by a troubled soul, crushed to the point of collapse by a myriad of troubles. It was the sort of sigh common to angsty teenagers, ennui-stricken beat poets, and shoegazing philosophy majors just starting their career with the Funtastic Fryolator Five-Thousand. 

For the very first time in his life, at least, it felt that way, Sundance gave serious thought to the meaning of life. What was the point? Oh, sure, he’d thought about this during his teenage years, those awkward times, but he was sheltered then, protected from the worst the world had to offer by his mother. Death had not truly touched him—Cucumber’s death in particular. His was a life now divided, seperated, bisected into two parts; pre- and post-barony. 

The last time he’d wondered about the meaning of life, he’d been a stupid kid. Now, he was a stupid adult who, for some inexplicable reason, was responsible for the lives of others, without knowing or understanding what the meaning of life was, or what was the point of anything. Which really put a new perspective on things, a real incentive to hurry up and come to some manner of understanding. 

He understood bureaucracy, at least as much as any pony could understand bureaucracy, so much so that it bothered him that he had a knack for it. Accounting though, was a whole nother animal. Forms and processing were second nature to him, but finding love, settling down, and starting a legacy was a complete unknown. Mares baffled him—stallions too, but he found himself leaning towards mares, at least for now, due to practical reasons. 

With his life now so complicated, he had no idea how to talk to them, how to connect with them. Not that he’d ever been successful in this area, but now, he couldn’t just present himself to a potential mate and do whatever wingspan display that might come to mind. No, that just wouldn’t work. He’d have to explain himself, explain the barony, reveal his every complication, and worse, he’d have to explain The Debt. It was only fair for a potential mate to know what they were getting into, up front, so they could make the sane decision and flee. 

Surely, Princess Celestia had thought ahead about all of this, and she no doubt had contingency plans. As with anything else remotely connected to her somehow, this was all a test of character—a bewildering test with multiple choice questions, most of which could not be read. The options taken were the answers and the questions, perhaps. 

“Baron Sundance, sorry to intrude.” 

A fresh-faced, bright eyed earth pony mare stood just a few yards away, shuffling her hooves about in an apologetic way. When he looked at her, she smiled, but also averted her gaze. She was flustered about something, but he had no idea what, and was far too distracted to make any attempts at discerning the cause. 

“You have a visitor. Incoming, from the northwest. The guards were scrambled to act as escorts. They’ll be landing on the airstrip shortly.” 

“I’ll be right there,” Sundance said to the flustered, squirmy young mare. 



 

A pegasus mare touched down, flanked on both sides by armored pegasus guards. Sundance was mildly annoyed by all of this, but he understood the need for security. The guards seemed friendly enough, and the mare did not seem to be overly concerned by the escort. She did appear troubled though, but it was obvious that the guards were not the cause. 

Just as Sundance was about to go over and introduce himself to the sky blue mare, a colour that made her almost invisible in open sky, he noticed a vividly yellow head poking up out of a carrier slung from the mare’s neck. One mare, one foal, and a great deal of luggage, all strapped on in some haphazard way that couldn’t be good for flying. Before anything was said, Sundance attempted mental arithmetic and suffered analysis paralysis. 

“Thanks,” the mare said to the guards on either side of her. “I’m not used to such long distance flights. It was nice gliding in your slipstream.” 

Then, after taking a deep breath, the mare exclaimed, “Whew! Lord Sumac wasn’t kidding about the smell! It’s breathtaking! Really bad eggs!” 

One of the guards sniggered, but nothing was said. 

“Welcome to Rotten Egglünd,” Sundance said to his visitor as he recovered himself. Saying these words reminded him that Corduroy could somehow hear umlauts, which he was certain was some kind of omelette, since Corduroy only heard umlauts when he said, ‘Rotten Egglünd.’ Before he became any more distracted, he introduced himself with a smile. “I’m Sundance.” 

When the mare folded her wings against her sides, Sundance suffered a lapse of concentration. 

“I’m Express Delivery, and Lord Sumac told me to come here.” 

The mare’s words left Sundance torn, uncertain of where to start, or what to ask. 

“I need a place to live,” she said as she bounced in place and nosed her foal. “I flew to Lulamoon Hollow from Vanhoover, but Lord Sumac has an application process that I was unaware of, and as it turns out he is choosy about new residents. He wants scientists, technicians, engineers, and mathematicians. And little me, I’m none of those things. He told me that you’ll take anypony. Is it true that you let diamond dogs live here?” 

Right away, Sundance’s mood shifted, and he felt his feathers bristling. “Is that a problem?” 

Ears back, the mare shook her head. “No… no, not particularly. It’s just… well, it’s just a bit scary, that’s all. I didn’t mean to offend. Really, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” 

Hearing her apologetic tone, Sundance made himself relax a bit. A mare with a foal had a right to be worried about safety, he told himself, and he hoped that this was a problem that would sort itself out. Though it was rude to stare, he studied her, trying to read her face, all while wondering if he too, should have some kind of application policy for new residents. 

Armor clanking, the guards made themselves scarce. 

Extending one wing, the mare brushed her white mane away from her face, touched her foal’s cheek, and then folded her wing back against her side. Sundance watched her every move, trying to see what he might learn about her from sight alone. The foal was practically a newborn, from the looks of it, and swaddled as it was, he couldn’t tell if it was a pegasus or an earth pony. It wasn’t a unicorn, because no horn was visible. 

“We do things differently here,” Sundance said at last. “All are welcome, and by all, I mean all. Griffons, diamond dogs… species doesn’t matter. Should species ever become a problem, you are free to go. That’s my policy. Is it understood?” 

“Yeah.” Express Delivery nodded. 

“Interesting name you have,” he said to her. 

“Well, I named myself after my business. Wanted ponies to remember me. I do package delivery. Well, I did. Uh, things are up in the air at the moment. The money was lousy.” 

“Yeah, the money isn’t great.” Sundance immediately took advantage of the common ground he found himself standing upon. “I did delivery work too. Medical supplies and hospital work. I’m licensed and bonded. Still didn’t make enough money to clear rent on my own.” 

“Oh, yeah… yeah… that was my problem too!” 

“Rent is bad on the west coast?” he asked. 

“I think it might be worse than the east coast,” she replied. “When I was pregnant, I started midwife classes, so I could add another delivery service to my delivery service. But, uh, well, life just sort of fell apart, you know? You know how it is. You think you have everything planned, and then life decides to upend you.” 

He nodded, and when he did, she did too, which left the two of them doing the pegasus head-bobbing thing that other ponies frequently made fun of. Thankfully, Sundance did not suffer a moment of self-consciousness, and it felt nice to connect with another pegasus. While he wanted another flier for the barony, he knew that it was best to play it cool. 

“So, midwifery?” Sundance struck a pegasus pose without realising that he’d done so. 

“Well, I started the courses. Didn’t get to finish them. I was four away from getting my stamped certificate when everything fell apart. You know, you’re a lot friendlier than Lord Sumac.” 

“I am?” Suspicious, Sundance wondered if he was being buttered up. 

“Oh, he’s nice enough, but he didn’t say much. Quiet sort, I guess. I don’t know what his deal was. Maybe he didn’t see the point in saying much because I didn’t meet his standards.” 

Curious, Sundance sought out more information about the mare seeking residency, and he asked, “So, what is it exactly that brings you here, to this place? Why come here? Why leave the city? Something made you leave Vanhoover for Lulamoon Hollow. On the run from something? In trouble? Why fly away and leave everything behind?” 

Express Delivery deflated, so much so that a vulgar raspberry escaped her pursed lips, and this caused the foal’s ears to prick. There was anger in the mare’s eyes, and something else, something that looked an awful lot like fear. It was easier to read pegasus faces and pegasus eyes, because pegasus ponies shared a common, unspoken language, something vaguely equine-avian in nature. 

“My ex is an asshole,” she muttered, spitting and spraying the words. 

“Oh.” 

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” she said, her eyes flashing like angry thunderheads. “He’s not a hitter, or anything. But he’s real controlling. Lots of ultimatums. ‘If you don’t do this, you force me to do this’ bullshit so that everything is all my fault. I didn’t want my daughter growing up and thinking that was acceptable.” 

“Might I ask a question?” 

“Sure, why not?” Express Delivery’s eyes still flashed with tumultuous emotion. 

“Why hook up with somepony like that?” asked Sundance, who sought open exchange. 

“Honestly?” The mare’s eyes blinked once and all traces of anger vanished, only to be replaced with sadness. “He was the go-getter type. Ambitious. I thought I could change a few bad habits. But he ended up changing me, and I found myself compromising more and more of my values just to keep him happy. I kept telling myself that in the long term, everything would be okay, that every couple goes through a bit of turbulence. I’ve had some time to think about it as I flew from Vanhoover to Lulamoon Hollow.” 

“I never understood that,” Sundance said to her whilst he shook his head. “Why is it that mares have to find some jerk and then hope to change him into a nice guy, when there are so many nice guys in the first place that don’t need changing. I’ve never understood this. Why?” 

Express Delivery looked away, and shuffled about with an uncertain expression. “I don’t know,” she squeaked. “That’s the way of things, I guess? There’s something about an aggressive go-getter. Look, I never gave it much thought. Now I have something to think about when my foal keeps me up at night. I’d chalk it up to pegasus stupidity, but I think all tribes do it. But especially us pegasus ponies. Us mares like big dominating males with big proud displays. It’s hard to concentrate when you’re swooning.” 

Disgusted, Sundance snorted. 

“Lulamoon Hollow had a paper application. It took hours to fill out. I wasn’t expecting this at all.” She flicked her tail from side to side, shifted her weight from her left to her right, and tried to bounce her gear to a more comfortable position. “I don’t know where else to go. My mother won’t help me… she told me that I shit in my nest and I need to be the one that cleans it out. I also got an ‘I told you so’ or three out of her. And to be fair, she did try to tell me so. She also told me that when things went south for the winter that there would be no help to be had.” 

Hearing this, Sundance set aside his own feelings of disgust and so he listened. 

“Now I seem to have offended you, and I understand why, and so, uh, here I am, wondering where I might fly to next. I hear there’s a colony in the Froggy Bottom Bogg.” 

“You don’t want to go there,” Sundance said in a level deadpan. “The approach is nightmarish. It involves crashing through the canopy and then flying between the trees. Besides, I’m not asking you to leave. I have no idea what I’m doing, and so far, with everypony that’s come here, I’ve struck up a conversation with them to get to know them. There’s no real application process, just an informal meet and greet. This one just didn’t go as smoothly as the others.” 

“Why let me stay?” she asked. 

“It’s the right thing to do,” he replied. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“That’s two of us. I don’t either.” 

The both of them narrowed their eyes and cast a stern avian gaze upon one another as an unspoken conversation took place. Ears pivoted, changed angles, and feathers ruffled. As awkward as this was, Sundance found that he missed this, he missed these interactions that were entirely unique to pegasus ponies. When he chuffed, she snorted in reply, and then, with no words spoken, everything was fine and the bad air between them was left clear. 

“You’re not the dominating type,” she said in a soft voice. “That’s different…” 

“I don’t try to impose my will on others,” he replied, explaining himself. 

“But… you’re the baron. Isn’t that your job?” 

“Only when absolutely necessary. Otherwise, no.” 

“Well, that’s… I, uh… well… erm…” 

“Yes?” He drew out the word, uncertain of what Express Delivery was trying to say. 

“Oh, nothing.” 

“Must be something.” 

“Well, it is something—” 

“Is that so? Well, out with it then. This could not possibly be more awkward.” 

“Uh”—she floundered for a bit, her eyes darting from side to side—“when you put it that way. Just a moment ago I got to thinking that I was ready to compromise my values again, just like with my ex… just so I’d have a place to live. You know, to make things easier. Crazy stuff goes through my head, sometimes.” 

“That’s not allowed,” Sundance said with as much aggressiveness as he could muster. “You can stay or go, that’s up to you, but you keep your values intact. I’ll not have that bad wind blowing through my barony. I don’t take advantage of my subjects. Let me make this clear; you are not beholden to me if you stay here, and at no time will I impose myself upon you. Is the sky clear between us?” 

“Not a cloud to be seen,” she replied, and for the first time, her ears pricked in a hopeful manner. 

“Will you stop being nervous?” he asked. 

“No,” she replied. “I’m a flighty sort. Plus, I’m still not sure where we stand. I’m tired, I’ve flown a long way, I just broke up with my ex, and my head is filled with crazy thoughts. I’m not myself right now. And you… you just got under my skin like nopony else ever has, not even my mother.” 

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Sundance offered. “Hollyhock is a new mom, and she’s got two foals already. I think she’ll be happy to have somepony to talk to. Normally, things are a whole lot quieter around here, but you came at a busy time.” 

“So that’s it then?” Express Delivery sounded dubious. “I get a place to stay and there’s no strings attached? I just get what I need, right? When I first heard about baronies on the radio, I didn’t know what to think. Sounded a bit like some cult commune, sorta like what Starlight Glimmer did. How do things work, exactly? What’s expected of me?” 

“For now,” Sundance replied, “nothing. Just settle in. Later, we’ll figure out what you’re good at, and we’ll put you to work. You’ll get a house, but you might have to share. Come along, follow me, and let’s get you off your hooves before you fall over from exhaustion. Besides, I’m in dire need of some tea. How about you?” 

“Oh, a cup sounds lovely, thank you. But if you don’t mind me asking, do you have any coffee?” 

Hearing this, Sundance cringed so hard that he almost broke his face.
> Public service announcement
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Sundance!” 

Corbie’s voice was particularly loud and carried over the commotion in the dining hall. Turning his head to look at her, he could see her waving, beckoning him to come over. It was the perfect chance to get away from Express Delivery without any awkwardness, and he was quick to seize upon the opportunity. 

“Excuse me, but it seems I am needed. Make yourself at home.” 

Before she could respond, he hurried away from her, his hooves thudding on the wooden floorboards, which were in dire need of a good sweeping. Lots of ponies had been in and out of here today, and it showed. Bits of grass, clods of dirt, what appeared to be breadcrumbs, and other assorted debris covered the floor. 

“Amber keeps asking for her daddy,” Corbie said in syrupy, cheerful tones. “It took us a while to figure what she meant, because that’s the only word she said. I think it hurts her lip.” 

Sundance became keenly aware of Hollyhock’s eyes, which now threatened to burn a hole right through him. As far as glares went, it could only be described as unkind at best, and downright hostile at worst. Something clearly needed to be said, but whatever it was, Sundance had no idea what it was. Perhaps some manner of explanation was in order, or clarification of some kind. 

But then he looked at Amber, and his heart lodged in his throat. 

Ignoring Hollyhock completely, he sat down beside the stricken foal, got himself comfortable, and then, as carefully as he could, he scooped up the miserable filly. She was warm—perhaps too warm—and he could feel exceptionally hot places as he pulled her against him. He heard a noise, as if something was muttered, but he couldn’t make out what it was. Within moments of getting situated, she rested her head against the base of his neck, closed her eye, and went still. 

Hollyhock looked furious, but he continued to ignore her. 

Corbie, whose head turned back and forth, going from Sundance to Hollyhock, said in a quiet, far more subdued voice, “Something don’t feel right here…” 

“Amber and I are friends,” Sundance said to Corbie. “It’s nopony elses business what she calls me.” With the foal tucked in the crook of his foreleg, he used his wing to gingerly brush her mane away from her face. “If it brings her comfort, if it makes her feel better”—he allowed his gaze to fall upon Hollyhock for a moment—“it would be downright cruel to take this away from her.” 

Grimacing, Hollyhock, now snubbed, turned away. 

“Sometimes,” Corbie said, her eyes large and soulful, “a girl just needs her daddy. Or a daddy. I’ve called my Uncle Seville my daddy and nopony got mad about it. I was sad.” 

“How’s the book reading going?” asked Sundance. 

“She kept asking for you,” Corbie replied. “So we stopped and took a break for a while. She cried for a bit.” 

“Aw, Amber, I’m sorry that I didn’t come check on you sooner. I’ve been a busy baron. New ponies keep arriving. Ponies keep asking me to look at stuff. Trouble is brewing. It’s been one of those days. Are you having one of those days too?” 

Amber’s uninjured ear twitched once, and then she returned to stillness. 

“You got something to say to me, Hollyhock?” 

The mare’s jaw firmed, her neck muscles went tight, and for but a second, she bared her teeth. Sundance thought of how she reacted to Turmeric and Amber getting along, and now this. She almost said something, her mouth opened, her ears pricked, and her nostrils flared wide—but then her jaw snapped shut with a click of her teeth. 

“If you have something to say to me, say it,” Sundance said to Amber Dawn’s mother. “Spit it out. I’m not going to kick you out or send you away or do whatever stupid thing you think I’ll do. Honestly, it’s insulting that you think so little of me.” 

“It’s not that,” Hollyhock blurted out. 

Sundance felt eyes on him—pretty much every eye in the room—including Express Delivery’s. 

“Then what is it? Clear the air, Hollyhock. Either say something or wipe that look off your face, ‘cause I don’t like it. Also, I don’t like the example you’re setting for your daughter right now. She’s gotta grow up here, and live here, and this attitude of yours is doing harm to our shared future. Now what is it that you gotta say?” 

“I need some air,” Hollyhock said as she stood up. “You want foals? Here, look after mine. You don’t mind, do you?”

Before Sundance could respond, Hollyhock hustled for the door, her hooves thudding with angry, heavy stomps. He almost said something as she approached the door, but then thought better of it. Enough had been said already, and he found that he didn’t want to upset Amber. The newborn, still unnamed as far as Sundance knew, lay on a blanket spread over the floor, and Lemongrass almost hovered over his sibling. 

Hollyhock exited, and slammed the door behind her. 

“What’s going on?” Corbie asked. 

“I wish I knew,” Sundance replied. “Don’t feel right to make assumptions.” 

Her eyes now downcast, her glasses crooked, Corbie squirmed. “I don’t feel comfortable right now. I hate it when grown-ups bicker.” 

“A mother can’t stand it when her foal wants something that she can’t give,” Express Delivery said as she shook off some of her gear and stacked it in the far corner. “It’s probably not my place to say anything. Sorry. Oh, that feels good to take a load off.” 

Amber’s slow, laboured breathing left a moistened place upon his neck, but Sundance didn’t mind. She was a heavy, solid thing, his foreleg was already cramping up, but he didn’t dare put her down, not after her mother’s temperamental outburst. He could hear her soft, muffled snuffles, and her nose sounded just a wee bit snotty. 

Smiling, waving her wing, Express Delivery asked, “If it’s not too much trouble, might I get a cup of coffee?” 



 

“...I implore you”—Princess Celestia’s voice was hard to make out over bursts of crackles and pops—“unity is needed now more than ever. We live in troubled times, but division and disagreement will only make things worse. What benefit is there to be had by rioting? We regret the recent implementation of martial law in Fillydelphia, but after the violence that took place and the senseless tragedy of those lives lost, there was no other choice.” 

The soft sound of slurped tea was heard during the brief pause. 

“The recent fires caused by looting and burning has only made the housing crisis in Fillydelphia worse. Why do this to yourselves? You burn your own houses down and then beg the Crown to shelter you. This is untenable; it cannot continue. Fillydelphia will remain under martial law until such a time that order is restored and these senseless acts of arson are put to an end.” 

Sundance, his eyelids heavy, listened to the static-filled silence that followed. For being so crowded, the dining hall was remarkably silent. Gringineers, his subjects, there was barely any room left at all as everypony had crowded in to hear the emergency radio announcement. With Amber cradled in his forelegs, Sundance, almost sleepy, wondered if he’d get an influx of new residents from Fillydelphia. It seemed likely. 

“I wish to be kind,” Princess Celestia continued at last, and Sundance could not tell if her voice was cracking or if the radio was the cause for her broken words. “More than anything, I wish to be kind. But you resist those who have come to aid you.” There was a long staticky pause. “You have brought harm and even killed those who have come to restore order, guardsponies who have sworn an oath to keep you safe, secure, and free. During your spoiled tantrum, you have murdured those who have paid for the cost of your liberty with their own blood.” 

Raw anger could be heard in Princess Celestia’s voice, the serenity for which she was known was gone. Sundance couldn’t imagine how bad it must be right now, but things had to be awful. Princess Celestia was a mare known for her patience, her composure, and for her to crack in the middle of a public address—Sundance just could not imagine the circumstances. 

“Examples will be made. That is all.” The terse final words had remarkable clarity and then the broadcast cut out. A second later, generic patriotic music could be heard through the tinny speaker, and a faint murmur grew in volume as ponies in the dining hall reacted. 

One voice rose above the others: “They’ve automated the shipyards of Fillydelphia. Sure, there’s still a lot of factory workers, but thousands have been laid off. The old, inefficient pony-powered machines have been replaced with steam and electricity. Now they need ponies to maintain and fix the machines, and none are needed to run to power them. Earth pony strength has been replaced by hydraulic actuators.” 

Another replied: “The constant state of war has accelerated the rate of production. We have no choice but to improve. Sometimes, it seems that we lose ships faster than we can build them. It’s not like the old days where the loss of a single ship was a newsworthy event. Whole fleets go down. It’s unthinkable. Something has to be done so we can keep up.” 

Express Delivery had this to say: “Almost ten-thousand logging jobs have been lost in Vanhoover because of mechanised logging. What’s a pony with a logging mark supposed to do for a job? Nopony will hire them… because they have a logging mark. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a pony with a saw mark or a plank mark to get a job in a bakery or working as a clerk in a department store? Our marks hold us back. They’re the real problem.”

“But our marks make us who and what we are. They make us special.” 

“Not if our mark represents something that is no longer relevant.” 

“Yeah,” a young earth pony said in a shrill voice. “Not all marks are equal. It used to be that jobs were created so that all marks were purposeful, but society has moved on. Too many ponies, too many marks, and the job market simply can’t support them all.” 

“So what’s a pony to do?” 

The resulting silence bothered Sundance. Nopony had anything smart to say. No clever words were spoken. Not too far away, a distressed Corbie sat hugging herself while also chewing upon her lip. The Gringineers were all looking at one another, their heads turning every which way. Sundance could not help but notice that his subjects, the oldtimers, each of them looked solemn and a bit sad. The world had moved on and now, more than ever, they were relics of a bygone era. 

“There’s no way to get a new mark for a new purpose if your mark and your purpose no longer have meaning,” a young mare said. “I’m lucky, I have a mark for masonry. My job seems pretty safe. At least, I think it is. My father has a masonry mark, and so does my mother, and all of my brothers, save one. But I think he’ll get a masonry mark too, once he stops being a wee teat biter.” 

Sundance thought of his own mark, and its uncertain meaning.
> Just foaling around
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A change had come over the barony. Ever since the radio broadcast, things felt subdued somehow, with the manic energy reduced in some way. Word spread fast, so even those who hadn’t heard the broadcast now knew. Work had not slowed though, not even in the slightest, and as the sun began to settle behind the Canterhorn far to the west, Sundance could sense the final push to get everything completed before they ran out of light. 

The support columns for the gatehouse were completed and tomorrow, the arch connecting them would be constructed, along with the house on top. So much had been accomplished in one day, done by those brought together for a common cause. Ten homes had been completed, with ten more dug-out foundations ready to go bright and early on the morrow. The water tower over Corduroy’s infirmary now had a conical tin roof, and above that, a mostly completed windmill rose over the barony like a sentinel. 

It would provide the infirmary with just a smidge of electricity, enough for electric lights, a cooler, a freezer, and an autoclave for sterilisation. 

“It’s been quite a day.” 

Nuance’s voice was almost a relief, and when Sundance turned to look, he saw Quiet beside him. She was dirty, grimy even, her pelt was peppered with gritty bits of gravel. Nuance appeared exhausted, but happy, and there was something in his eyes, some bright inner flame that blazed with purpose. It was almost as if Nuance had found his mark. 

“Today, I’ve made friends. They respect me. They really do. And it’s not because they’re soldiers and they’re required to be nice to me.” The colt bowed his head and drew in a deep breath. 

Beside him, Quiet sat down and began brushing away the stone grit caked to her pelt. 

“It feels like they respect me in the same way the soldiers respect my brother, Radiance. Only… those soldiers don’t really respect me. I’m in the way. They have to guard me, protect me, and I’ve spent most of my life being a snotty brat. But these soldiers aren’t like those soldiers, and today, building the gatehouse, I wasn’t in the way.” The colt sighed and lifted his head. “I didn’t feel useless, or in the way. Can you believe it, Sundance, I actually helped.” 

As the sun sank, dipping below the Canterhorn, Sundance could feel the coming twilight. 

“I hope my mother is okay,” Nuance said in a softer, more muted voice. 

“Worried?” Even as he said it, the question felt worthless, and Sundance cringed a bit. 

Nuance did not respond right away. There was a deep breath, followed by another, something that was almost a whimper, but was more nasal, and then the sounds of small hooves crunching gravel. After what felt like a minute or more, Nuance spoke, saying, “Mother doesn’t like doing what she did today. She says it feels like failure. I’ve heard her say it so many times. She doesn’t understand why ponies don’t come together during times of trouble. It bothers her that they turn on one another, and that everypony is out only for themselves. She cries, sometimes, and it’s horrible to hear my mother cry. I can’t stand it.” 

“Nuance”—Sundance hesitated, fearful that the coming words might be too bitter, and that the colt was far too young to hear them—“living in the city does something to a pony’s head. Kindness and compassion gets squeezed out of you. You only see the worst in ponies. Violence and crime. It’s… it’s the desperation, Nuance. It poisons the mind. Everything is for sale and nothing is ever free. Restaurants and prostitution, as my mother says. Don’t give a sandwich out of kindness, sell it for as much as you equinely can, so you can keep your rent paid. Love and affection? That can be sold too. My mother sees it every day, and I heard about it every day when she came home from work and vented.” 

“But that’s… horrible—” 

“Nuance, that’s life,” Quiet said. 

“What do you know about all this?” Nuance demanded. 

“My father has been outside of Equestria,” Quiet replied. “He’s been all over the world. I’ve listened to his stories, even the really bad ones. He’s been to the places where our Equestrian virtues and values are just jokes. And if you listen to him and what he has to say, he could tell you an awful lot about the conditions of our cities, and why so many problems exist.” 

Eyes downcast, Nuance shook his head. “I wonder if my mother listens to him.” 

“He tries to tell her, but she has a hard, hard time accepting what he has to say. Even with all of the evidence to the contrary, she wants to believe in the good that ponies can do. Well, all creatures, really. Celestia is an optimist and my father… my father has seen too much of life to be an optimist. I don’t know where I stand.” 

“I’d rather share my mother’s optimism,” Nuance said. “Otherwise, what’s the point of trying to make things better? We can’t just give up. It can’t be doom and gloom!” Gritting his teeth, the colt kicked at a bit of gravel, but missed. 

“You share your mother’s optimism?” asked Quiet. 

“What choice do I have?” Nuance snapped, his voice taking on a vulnerable tremble. “She never stopped believing in me. Kept telling anypony that would listen that I would get better. My mother made excuses for me. Always saying that I just needed some time to find my place in the world and then I’d sort myself out. What am I going to say? That she was wrong? That her optimism was unfounded? What leg would I have left to stand on?” 

“I’ve always believed in you as well, you know. But I’m not sure I’m an optimist.” 

“I know, Quiet. And my father… I wish my father was here right now so I could talk to him about my day. And listen to him about his day.” Nuance tried to kick at some gravel, but not much was accomplished. 

A cool breeze blew, and carried with it the suggestion of a cold spring night. Sundance thought of what Nuance had said, of Quiet’s own words, and he thought of his mother. Perhaps it could be said that ponies started out as optimists, and under the right conditions, continued to be as such. His mother said you could spot a pony that was new to the city, because they were nice. They tried to do good deeds for others—but this never lasted, because sooner or later, they would learn the cold, hard reality, and would discover that no one would do anything for them. 

There was only survival. Keep the rent paid, keep the lights on, and keep food in the icebox. Fail to do any of these things, and you fell down. The fall was long and the sudden stop at the end was enough to end some lives. Some never recovered, and they could be seen begging on street corners. Others turned to crime. Most turned to crime. To hear his mother talk, every single pony was just one rotten day away from a life of crime, that only good fortune and good circumstance kept ponies honest—but, as she was so quick to warn, one day, the bottom would drop out. 

Hearing the crunch of gravel, Sundance turned his head and saw Skyla and Corbie approaching. Skyla in particular looked weary, her hooves dragged with every step, and her wings were lose against her sides. As for Corbie… it was hard to discern her mood. If something was wrong, and Sundance had good reason to believe that this was the case, Corbie was doing an excellent job of hiding it. 

“We’re discussing optimism,” Quiet said to the others as they approached. “Or, as my father likes to call it, mental illness and delusion.” 

“I’d rather think of it as plucky determination,” Skyla replied as she drew nearer. 

“Why are we talking about bad eyesight?” asked Corbie. 

“Sister… no… no… optimism, not ophthalmology.” 

“Gotcha, Nuance.” A lopsided grin spread over Corbie’s muzzle. 

“Sister… I can’t even.” Blowing a raspberry, the colt turned away from his sibling. 

“Aw, Nuance… don’t be so glum. You and I, we shared a placenta—” 

“Stop bringing that up!” Nuance bristled and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“We didn’t share a placenta with Radiance though, and good riddance.” 

“Sister—” 

“We shared a cord, too,” Corbie said to Sundance whilst her brother squirmed and danced in place. “One cord, that split into two. We’re a package, my brother and I. We swam in the same baby broth—” 

“Ugh!” After his loud outburst, Nuance stuck his tongue out. 

“One day, I hope to be full to sloshing with baby broth,” Quiet remarked. 

“Oh… oh, that’s a nasty mental image.” Skyla covered her face with her wing and then just stood there, almost unmoving. “Quiet, why?” 

“How do you do it?” asked Sundance. 

“Get full of baby broth?” Quiet replied in the form of a question. “If you don’t know, perhaps I’m not the pony that should be telling you. Ask your mother. Or better yet, ask an alicorn. Pick one. But not Skyla. She’s doomed to be the Alicorn of Prudery.” 

Skyla snarled, Nuance gagged, and Corbie giggled. 

“No, you weirdo.” Sundance looked at the foals around him and thought about the right way to clarify his words. “After today… with the radio and everything that happened. That’s a heavy thing. And now you’re here, cracking wise, and carrying on. How?” 

“Have you met our parents?” Quiet’s words were spoken in deadpan. “Seriously. Have you met our parents? Nuance over there, his mom is the world’s sunniest optimist. But she’s also the powerful force of goodness that holds back the evil that threatens us all. And over here, we have Skyla. Her parents? The Alicorn of Love and the Alicorn of Virtue. Not only do we have to deal with all the usual stuff that foals have to face, but each of us lives in the dark shadow of our parents. We don’t have normal parents. They were born from alicorns and I was born from monsters. We are what we are. When no one is looking, we guzzle soda pop and have belching contests. We’re gross, we’re crude, and we tell terrible jokes. Somehow, in spite of it all, we’re still foals.” 

“My sister can belch the entire dragon alphabet,” Nuance said in a near-whisper. “It’s terrifying. She gets it from our mother.” 

There was nothing that Sundance could say—but an ice cold soda sounded good right about now. 

“That’s the thing about being the son of Celestia.” A pause happened as Nuance took a moment to collect himself. “The sun always rises. No matter how dark the night might get, the sun always rises. Life goes on. And I guess, so do we. Sometimes, I don’t know what to make of it. Speaking of dark nights, I miss Mother Luna.” 

“Mama’s colt—” 

“Shut up, Skyla!” 

“You still take naps with your mother.” 

“So what if I do?” Nuance’s face purplefied and his ears quivered with outrage. 

“Aw, don’t be upset, Nooncy. It’s sweet.” The spectre of a giggle could be heard in Quiet’s voice as she spoke, and there was something chaotic, something mischievous about her eyes. “Oh, by the way… Skyla, you left your stuffed Shining Armor doll in my room last night.” 

“Oh,” Corbie gasped. “Roasted. Basted and wasted.” 

Skyla’s mouth hung open, but only for a second, and she was quick to recover. 

Uncertain of what motivated him, Sundance put the mood at risk with a hard question. “So… what do you think will happen in Fillydelphia? What do you think should happen? If you were in charge, how would you deal with it?” 

Again, Skyla was quick to recover, and her expression became one of thoughtful contemplation. Nuance too, reacted, his expression grew troubled, and his ears pinned back. Quiet somehow maintained her chaotic mischievousness, but there was something different about her eyes, something that was almost frightening, as if something dark and terrible prowled her mental corridors. As for Corbie, she wore a blank expression and seemed to be more confused than anything. 

“Princess Celestia gives ponies too much freedom.” Skyla’s words were muted, but clearly spoken. “The freedom to be bad and good. As I see it, when given a choice, ponies will do bad things if it benefits them. We do things differently in the Crystal Empire. Our laws are more strict. The application of justice is swift. But then again, we’re not as large as Equestria. So really, I’m not sure if there’s a valid comparison here.” 

“Skyla, that’s terrible.” 

“Nuance, I’m not wrong. Your mother takes a gamble… she takes a chance that free ponies will choose to do great good. And a few do. But let’s face it… most do not. For every pony that rises up to do great good, how many bad things happen every day? Fillydelphia is burning. Citizens are dying, Nuance. If they were just made to do what they were told, and what is good for all, this wouldn’t be happening.” 

“But if we’re forced to do good, then what point is goodness?” Quiet’s leonine tail formed a fuzzy question mark. “With evil all around, the choice to do good means something.” 

“So others need to suffer for this choice to matter?” Skyla shook her head. “No, for the good of all, citizens should be made to conform somehow. We must somehow reduce risk, not increase it. Order is a prize to be had… in the Crystal Empire, we value our order.” 

“That’s tyranny—” 

“Tempered with benevolence,” Skyla said, interrupting Quiet. “You live where I live, Quiet. You walk the same streets I do. How can you say what you just said? Have you no appreciation for the life you’ve been given?” 

Quiet, scowling, did not respond. 

“Skyla, you do realise that all of Quiet’s jokes about public beheadings and what not were just jokes, right? Her morbid humour.” 

“Of course I know that,” Skyla said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “She said it as a joke, but that doesn’t change the fact that her jests hold a grain of truth.” 

“So… what, we bring back the days of Sombra?” asked Nuance. 

“Maybe not to that extreme,” Skyla responded, “but there has to be a middle ground. We’re foals. Why do we behave? We’re afraid of the consequences. Who here isn’t afraid of their parents? Let’s see a show of hooves.” 

Trembling, Quiet raised her left hoof. 

Sundance gnawed his lip, and thought about how terrified he was of his own mother. Officer Mom scared him. He kept himself out of trouble for fear of reprisal. The fear of what his mother might do had ruled his life—but his mother had also imparted bad things, like her own prejudices. A broad, almost endless horizon of confusion spread before him, and Sundance could feel his guts twisting into knots as he mentally acknowledged that his mother might not have done the best for him, that his better interests had not been protected. 

He felt sick from the very thought. 

“Quiet, your father is the scariest pony-shaped creature in all of existence, and you’re not afraid of him?” Nuance asked. 

“Why should I be?” was Quiet’s quick reply. 

“I get scared when Daddy makes that face of his,” Corbie was quick to say. “Nuance, you know, The Face. It’s the same face that Grandma makes when she’s fed up to her ears and she starts saying ‘oy vey’ a lot. And to hear father say ‘oy vey,’ it makes my blood feel kludgy.” 

His sibling’s words caused the colt to shudder. 

“Well”—Skyla stretched this word out to extreme lengths—“you learn something new every day. Quiet isn’t afraid of her parents. Why am I not surprised?” 

“Should I be?” Quiet looked around with apprehension clear on her face. 

“What makes you behave?” Corbie asked. 

“I chose to be good,” Quiet replied, still doubtful. “My father has enough to worry about without me making things worse. I’m free to make my own choices, for the most part. I understand what is expected of me.” 

“My dad is scariest when he goes all quiet,” Skyla said in a squeaky, fillyish voice. “Usually when Flurry does something dumb. It’s like that quiet calm just before a thunderstorm. You know the lightning is coming, you just don’t know when. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with the lightning. I don’t want my dad going all quiet on me.” 

“Twilight is a yeller,” Nuance said, almost shivering. “You know you’ve crossed a line when Twilight yells. She always apologises for it later, but when Twilight yells, she’s scary. I’ve been yelled at by Twilight a few times now—” 

“So has Flurry,” Skyla interjected. 

“—and now I live in fear of being yelled at again.” Nuance shook his head so hard that his ears flopped around. “It’s not so much the yelling, it’s the idea that Twilight is that disappointed or that she is so upset that she is forced to yell. I’m saying yell a lot, aren’t I?” 

Quiet nodded and said, “I’ve never been yelled at by Twilight.” 

“Well, aren’t you special?” Skyla’s snide sarcasm and curled back lip made her face quite unpleasant. “Aunt Twilight yelled at me once. I deserved it. To be fair, I was being a real snot to Nuance.” 

“Well, I was egging you on,” Nuance said to Skyla. “I wanted Twilight to yell at you.” 

“And you got what you wanted,” Skyla delivered in deadpan. “Good going, Nuance.” 

“It’s weird seeing you act and talk like foals.” Sundance felt a curious sensation run up and down his spine as every foal present turned to look up at him. Corbie in particular made a face that was difficult for him to deal with, she radiated a sort of silent sarcasm that suggested a whole chorus of ‘duhs!’ waited to be shouted aloud. 

Fearing foalish retribution, he changed the subject. “Should we be afraid of our rulers? Like we’re afraid of our parents?” 

“Silly Sundance.” Skyla peered up at him over the top of her spectacles. “You are a ruler. You’re still having trouble with that distinction, aren’t you?” 

“My question still stands,” he replied, resolute. “Should my subjects be afraid of me? I mean, I’ve done everything I can to make sure that they’re not afraid of me. Was I wrong? Did I mess everything up by showing them how not-scary I am? I feel a whole lot of doubt coming on strong right about now.” 

Skyla pursed her lips, but did not reply. Nuance turned away, his ears rose, and what passed as a thoughtful expression (for Nuance) crept over his face. It was clear that the colt was distracted, and struggled to stay focused. Quiet wore a mask of serene calm. As for Corbie—the poor filly looked confused and bewildered, and she nervously licked her lips. 

“My power comes from the love of my subjects,” Skyla said at last. “I will only ever be as strong as their love for me. I love my parents, but I also fear my parents. The relationship a ruler has with their subjects is not so different. My subjects will love me for my benevolence, but also live in fear of my displeasure.” 

“Skyla.” 

“Yes, Sundance?” 

“I’m just a lowly baron, and one day, you’re going to be an empress. You want our relationship to be that of equals, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are my superiour. Should I be afraid of you?” 

“Well, I—” The alicorn filly went silent and her stare turned vacant. 

“He broke her,” Quiet muttered to Nuance. 

Nuance nodded. “He did.” 

Waving her wing in front of the frozen alicorn’s face, Corbie whispered, “Skyla?” 

“My mother, she says you’re not a smart pony, Sundance—” 

Hearing this, Sundance bit his tongue to keep himself quiet as Nuance continued. 

“—but she says you are wise. Or will be, one day. If you live that long and don’t crash into Canterlot or get eaten by an owlbear. I think we just saw that. Skyla is smart. But look at her now.” 

“Is it better to be smart or wise?” asked Corbie. 

“I’d rather be charismatic,” replied Quiet. “Something, something, tomato smoothie.”

“I lack an answer,” Skyla said at last. “You buried a splitting maul into an owlbear’s skull. Several inches, if the story is to be believed. I’m pretty sure that by reasonable, logical standards, I should be scared of you. But I’m not. Not sure why that is. As far as grownups go, you’re pretty laid back and mellow. But there is that whole thing about getting a splitting maul stuck in an owlbear’s skull.” 

“That was necessary?” Even as he said it, he doubted it. Perhaps some other way was possible, though he had no idea what other option might have been viable. 

“Princess Celestia’s response to the events in Fillydelphia are also necessary,” Skyla said in muted tones. “The guardsponies were sent there to quell dissent. They came with food and offers of kindness. They did everything they could to make things better, and look how it turned out. Instead of gratitude and calm, they got anarchy and violence. Some of the guardsponies died. Now, Princess Celestia has been left with no choice but to restore order… by any means necessary. The fires have to be put out and the streets made safe again.” 

“Trying to reason with an owlbear is impossible,” Sundance said as new understanding bubbled through his grey matter. “Fillydelphia became an owlbear and something had to be done. Am I understanding this right? See, I don’t know. Cucumber died… he died and there wasn’t much I could do about it. I keep wondering, what if I’d done things differently? What if I’d been smarter? I feel like I failed. Cucumber had to rescue me. He had to save my life. I failed—” His words trailed off with a choked grunt and he sat down on the hard, stony ground. 

Wearing a sad smile, Skyla sat down beside him, and then scooted up against him. “Perhaps there is a lesson to be learned here,” she said, her words strained and raspy. “If Cucumber feared you, he might not have saved you. But clearly, he felt something for you. Call it love, or friendship, call it whatever… but he clearly felt obligated to do what was necessary. He did his duty so that you can do yours. That’s not failure. The guardsponies that died in Fillydelphia, they too, did their duty. Now Princess Celestia has to pick up the pieces and make certain that they did not die in vain. Such is the way of service.” 

“It hurts…” 

“I’m certain it does,” Skyla said, nodding. “Perhaps, when you get the chance, you should talk to Princess Celestia about it. You have something in common. Somepony has died in service to you, and many have died in service to her. Might make it easier.’ 

Sundance felt his barrel hitching, and he couldn’t tell if he was feeling anxiety or panic. 

“I think,” Skyla said in her most princessly voice, “that we could all use a rootbeer…”
> What's in a mark, anyhow?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were white unicorns in all shades of white, and then there was Double Helping. He was not pinkish-white, like Princess Celestia, or bluish-white, like Nuance. Nor was he greenish-white, or yellowish-white, or any other faintly-tinted shade of off-white. No, Double Helping was white, impossibly so. White hide, white mane, white tail, he was the sort of pearlescent white that posed a challenge to keep clean in an environment like the barony—but Corduroy would no doubt do her best. Double Helping’s white hide was thick, almost to the point of being shaggy, and not even the merest hint of his pink flesh could be seen. 

At the moment, he was clean, but the day would no doubt change that. 

The other new arrivals were settling in. Express Delivery quickly formed a friendship with Hollyhock and now the two of them were mothers united with a common cause. Which is to say, foals must be kept content and quiet. As for Gothcruz, the bizarre zurro was somehow in every place at once, and hauled heavy loads between various work sites, all while sharing cryptic riddles with those around him. 

Over the past few days—all of which blurred together—the barony had been transformed into something that Sundance almost didn’t recognise. The gatehouse was expected to be finished today, and the final ten dome homes would be raised tomorrow. A sort of panic gripped everypony, everybirdy, and everydoggy, because word had been sent that Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Prince Gosling would be arriving for an official inspection. 

So now, everything had to be perfect.



 

“Baron Sundance, we have a bit of a problem.” Berry Briar’s voice was stern but her face appeared relaxed. “Commander Humblewood is assessing the problem now, and I was dispatched to seek out your opinion before anything is decided.” 

A deep breath helped to steady Sundance’s frazzled nerves. It had been a long morning, and the afternoon showed signs of stretching. “Alright, what are we dealing with?” 

“Picky peasants,” the bubblegum-pink mare replied. 

“Picky peasants?” 

“Persnickety picky peasants.” 

“My subjects are… vocal. What seems to be the problem? How might I help my picky peasants?” He hoped that his choice of words sent a clear message about whose side he was on in whatever matter was about to be mentioned. 

He saw Berry Briar smile, and then heard her say, “The picky polite peasants have presented an opinion… not a single one of them likes the basic model of dome home. Every single one of them prefers the split level design, with the raised indoor deck. Because we’ve been building a mix of the two, there’s been some squabbling over who gets what. Nopony wants the deckless version. So, a decision needs to be made.” 

“Hopefully not a decision about making somepony live in a home they don’t like.” Sundance shifted his posture and his ears angled forwards. 

“Sir, no.” Berry Briar’s posture also changed, and the pegasus mare’s rigid stance matched that of Sundance. “We can change the already existing homes, but we need executive approval. Which means that Commander Humblewood, you, and myself must come to a consensus.” 

“Old, elderly ponies aren’t keen on bunk beds.” He kept his wry smile to himself, but the corners of his mouth did twitch. “But they do like a comfortable place to sit in front of the window. What a surprise.” 

“Your Grace, you have an amazing and astute grasp of the situation, and I myself tried to suggest the very same to Commander Humblewood. But the Commander was insistent about variety being the spice of life. When we speak to him, we should keep our shared opinion to ourselves, and we should most certainly not gloat or in any way act superiour with our common sense.” 

Sundance decided that he liked Berry Briar, he liked her a great deal. 

“The bunks are a fine design,” Sundance said to the pegasus mare standing face-to-face with him. “A good, efficient design. Having a bunk right next to the landing so it’s easy to get in and out is a fine idea. Maybe with younger ponies, it might be a prefered design.” 

“It is well-liked in other places,” Berry Briar replied. “But even your younger peasants like the indoor deck. They also like having their beds beneath the deck. It is a nice cosy little cubby. We’ve taken to hanging curtains so that the space beneath the deck is closed off. One of the privates suggested it.” 

“Let’s go speak with Commander Humblewood and get this over with.” 

“He’ll be… upset with the further expenditure of resources, but if we stick together, he’ll come around.” Berry Briar paused, then added, “It’s good you’ll stick your neck out in situations like this one. It seems minor and trivial, but it is a good way to curry favour and loyalty. There are those who might be dismissive in instances like these. Good on you.” 

“Thank you, Berry Briar.” 

“Don’t mention it, Sundance.”



 

As it turned out, it was a non-issue, more or less. When confronted, Commander Humblewood was quick to seize upon the idea of squeezing out a little more learning, and then, it was over. Just like that, it was over. A command was given, word was spread, and the change would be implemented. With the minor trouble resolved and out of the way, the three of them now stood, shoulder to shoulder, watching as the gatehouse took shape. 

“These past few days,” Commander Humblewood began, and then he cleared his throat a few times. “This has been an ideal training mission. No city or town for the enlistees to get into mischief. Morale feels high. A lot of work has been done. Quite a few of the recruits have new marks to show for their hard work.” 

“New marks?” The words caused Sundance’s eyebrow to arch. Tail swishing around his hind legs, the wind ruffling his feathers, he watched as heavy stone blocks were raised. “A lot of late bloomers, eh?” 

“There’s a problem with the current generation,” Berry Briar said to Sundance, and as she spoke, her ears pivoted forwards, reaching out over her eyes. 

“Typically there’s a problem with every generation,” Sundance remarked. 

Berry Briar’s lips pressed together, she grunted, and then shook her head. Scowling, she said, “More specifically, there’s a problem that seems unique to the big cities of Equestria. Marks keep coming later and later. There’s a lot of debate about it. What’s accepted is, foals are too busy with school and everything that comes with school. Less time for play and hobbies. And right when school is over, or worse, they drop out of school, and they find themselves in factory jobs or doing unskilled labour. There’s so much focus on mere basic survival that hardly any time is spent in self-exploration. This generation seems to be hit the hardest. I’ve never seen so many blank green recruits.” 

Something turned over in Sundance’s head, and thoughts from previous recent conversations surfaced in his mind. “Meanwhile, the last generation has all the wrong marks and they are suffering from these rapid transitions.” 

Commander Humblewood seemed as though he was about to say something, but the words never came. Sundance realised the wise, wily commander was thinking. Putting everything together. It seemed as though both old and young were ill-equipped to deal with Equestria’s future, whatever that might be. Get a mark too young and it might be useless by the time you were old enough to work, or, don’t get a mark at all and deal with being directionless. 

Both had their unique problems. 

“Once we finish here,” Commander Humblewood said, breaking his silence, “I am going to write out an official recommendation that we use this place as an official training site. Its remote location is ideal. The enlistees stay focused. There’s good work to be done here. I’m positive that I can convince command that multiple interests would be best served if we focused our efforts here. That is, with your permission, Lord Sundance.” 

“I’m fine with that,” he replied.

“I figured you would be.” Commander Humblewood turned his face away from the sudden rush of sulphurous breeze that tugged on his ears and blew his mane about. “You know, once, marks meant something. Symbols of survival. A good mason was the sort of thing that warranted an army. They were treasures. The application of martial might was expended to keep them alive, safe, and secure. A good mason could build a kingdom. Everypony benefited from the mason’s work. But now… now… now there are too many masons. Marks that were once symbols of distinction are now commonplace. The necessity of preservation is no longer there. I think about this when I can’t sleep at night, which is often.” 

“Now, you find masons in the unemployment line, waiting to collect the dole,” Berry Briar remarked with a great deal of acerbic sarcasm. “Of course, the smart ones, they enlist. We’ll put them to work.” 

“What can I do to make things better?” asked Sundance. 

Both of his current companions turned to look at him, and from their expressions, Sundance wasn’t quite certain what their reactions were. Shock? Surprise? Confusion? Try as he might, their reactions remained unknown. He shuffled on his hooves, uncertain, and for some reason feeling self-conscious. 

“You look confused.” Berry Briar offered up a reassuring smile. “Such candor is refreshing. Just straightforwardness. Didn’t sound like there were any conditions attached.” 

“Well, you are helping me to build my barony.” 

Commander Humblewood snorted. 

“I feel like there is a lot that goes on that I am unaware of,” said Sundance as the unicorn commander cleared his throat. “Sometimes I wonder if the fact that I have no clue as to what it is I am doing is an asset. That sentence feels a bit too long for what was said. I’m feeling rather insecure right now. You two, you’ve been doing this for a long time, so you have perspectives that I don’t have.” 

“Eh, you’re fine.” Reaching out one vividly pink wing, Berry Briar patted Sundance on the uninjured side of his neck. “Even with your age, you’re more like these green recruits. That’s a good thing. I gave up a spot further up the chain of command so I could stay with these kids. Life hasn’t crushed them yet. They have ideas, and ideals, ideas about their ideals, and everything that comes with being young. These kids, they still believe that they can and will change the world. And you know what? They just might. Prince Gosling has seen to it that they have the resources to give them a fair shot. While other soldiers are winning the war overseas, we’re right here, fighting the war at home that nopony wants to acknowledge. And you… you fit right in.” 

“Thanks, I guess.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“The Gringineers aren’t well liked,” muttered Commander Humblewood. “There are many who feel that what precious resources we have are better spent on martial efforts. Some say that we’re losing the war, and that us Gringineers are the cause. Every bit spent on our endeavours is a bit not spent to push back our Great Enemy. It’s hard to get ponies to understand that if something isn’t done about the situation here at home, we’ll have nothing to save. We’re rotting from within. Our marrow has turned unwholesome. Complete and total societal collapse is imminent.” 

“So what can I do to help?” asked Sundance. 

“This.” Berry Briar gestured at everything around her. “Keep doing this.” 

“But this doesn’t feel like much—” 

“One pony, one creature, can make a difference.” Commander Humblewood’s jaw muscles tightened as his face turned grim. “We stand in the face of insurmountable odds, with little more than courage and gumption. Remain resolute. Give others something to believe in. A pony will die for a cause they believe in. I’ve spent my life watching it happen.” 

“But how do I do that?” 

“We’re giving you the ways and means,” Commander Humblewood replied. “It’s up to you to figure what to do with what we’ve given you. A lot can be done with this.” He raised his hoof and gestured at everything around him. “My job is to build it. Your job is to see that it is put to good use.” 

Earwax came to a skidding halt on three legs, bowed her head, and then breathlessly looked Sundance right in the eye. “Milord! Good tidings! It’s Lady Corbie, Milord! Her mark has found her! I was sent to fetch you!” 

“Excuse me,” Sundance said to his companions. “I’m a busy baron, and I’m sure that both of you need to get back to work as well. It seems that I am needed.” 

“Eh, forget work, I have to see this.” Berry Briar cast a sidelong glance at Commander Humblewood. “Shall we?” 

“We shall,” the unicorn commander replied. “Let us see what great future awaits Corbie.” 



 

The celebratory mood in the dining hall hit Sundance like a ton of bricks. One wall was missing at the moment, not that anypony seemed to mind, because all eyes were on a teary-eyed-but-smiling Corbie. Even Amber was almost smiling, as much as the poor foal could smile with her swollen-but-healing face. For some reason, Corbie seemed to have the hiccups. 

“Where’s Nuance?” Corbie asked. 

“He’s coming,” somepony replied. 

“What about Skyla and Quiet?” 

“On their way.” 

“Oh! Sundance! Look! Look at me!” Corbie’s wings flapped and fluttered as she clopped her front hooves together. 

Overwhelmed by his own excitement, he rushed to her side, uncertain if he could contain his curious nature. As he drew near, Corbie turned to one side, and even though it was a bit obscured because she was sitting on it, he could make out the silhouette profile of a silver dragon belching out a cloud of green gas. He stopped suddenly, confused, and tried to make sense of its meaning. It was a pretty mark, and the silvery sheen of the dragon matched some of Corbie’s silver markings. It was a classical dragon, with an almost pear-shaped body, a serpentine neck, and a tail twice as long as the dragon itself. 

“I was trying to make Amber feel better, she was having a rough time because Corduroy had to rub in some medicine and it stings”—here the over-excited filly sucked in a wheezing deep breath—“and nothing seemed to be working, Amber just stayed all gloomy, so I chuggalugged a whole big bottle of cream soda and then I shook my booty and danced a bit, and when I felt the pressure was just right, I cut loose and belched out the entire dragon alphabet, just like my mama taught me to do!” 

“Your mother is going to kill me,” Sundance blurted out. 

“Why would she do that?” asked Corbie, blinking her eyes in the way of innocent fillies everywhere. 

“You know what, never you mind.” Sundance tried not to think of what Princess Celestia might do to him, or where he might be banished. “Corbie, you’re a lucky girl. With a mark like that, you could be a diplomat to the dragons.” 

“I could, couldn’t I?” Again, the over-excited filly clopped her front hooves together. Then, she went still had a moment of intense calm, the sort that seemed so common yet so out of place in the very young and excitable. “Mother Luna was certain that I’d be a nurse, or maybe a nanny. She made a wager with my father. Daddy will be strutting and Mother Luna, she’ll be a sore loser, and they’ll bicker, but that’s okay, because they’ll make up, and when they make up, they’ll make out, and do gross, icky stuff, but all that grody stuff is fine, I suppose. I might get more little brothers and sisters out of it, and that’d be awesome.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I wonder if I can make my parents fight so they’ll make up, make out, and give me more siblings.” 

Sundance facewinged. 

“Is a governess like a governor? Mother Luna was certain that I’d be a governess, with the way I keep smothering my baby brother, Nuance. Where is Nuance, anyhow? This is the most important moment of my life! What’s taking so long?” 

But Corbie—the chatterbox—wasn’t done. “I don’t know what happened. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve burped in my life? When I was a foal, I had colic a lot because I was an aggressive suckler. Mama said I was a bruiser and every time she brings it up now, she rolls her eyes, but she also smiles. I’m a natural born burper but it seems like I’m always burping at the wrong time, like when the Duke and Duchess of Mustangia are invited to din-din. Turns out, they’re not big fans of belch-opera. But with Amber, I really threw my heart and soul into it, because it felt important. I had to do something about that frown.” 

As Corbie rubbed her front hooves together, Sundance hoped that his end would be a swift one.
> Hopeful broadcast
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hello, this is Twilight Sparkle and I”—the radio crackled and the words became a stream of garble—“today, I have two special co-hosts with me, Seville Orange and Gosling, both of whom have promised to behave themselves.” Twilight’s wry sarcasm somehow could be heard, carried over the radio waves themselves. 

Hunched over his tea, Sundance listened, eager for news. 

The radio squelched a bit, squealed, and then the signal came in clear. This time, it was Seville Orange who spoke. Sundance hadn’t paid much attention to radio politics, preferring music or radio adventure serials, but it was time to grow up and understand the world. Paradox would only come to the barony if there was a working radio, which was the reason they had one in the first place. 

“There is no denying that things are bad,” said Seville, his smooth voice somehow overcoming the static, the crackles, and the pops. “But when things seem to be at their worst, there is no excuse for us to not be at our best. Today, I wanted to speak with you about the good things that we have. I wanted to remind you of what we’ve gained through our adversity, because I feel that those things are important to remember.” 

Hardly a sound was made in the dining hall, save for the slurping of tea. Sauerkraut Pie was taking a well-deserved break after cooking and baking most of the morning. Eggplant and Acorn sat in the corner together, resting their elderly bones while listening to the radio. Lemongrass showed surprising attentiveness and didn’t appear bored, not even in the slightest. 

“Right now, everypony, everyone, we’re all focused on the awful things that are happening, and for good reason. Fillydelphia has fallen into anarchy. Baltimare is a powderkeg just ready to go off. The food shortages in Manehattan caused by the rail workers strike has left the residents a bit testy. It won’t stop raining in Vanhoover and Las Pegasus is baking with record high temperatures. I mention these things, because they are on everyone’s mind. These events affect all of us, in some form or another, no matter how far removed we are from them.” 

“Yeah, how about that rain?” Prince Gosling’s smooth, buttery voice was made for radio and every ear in the room pricked to hear his honeyed words. “One-hundred and thirty-one days of rain, and it doesn’t show signs of stopping. Weather wizards dispatched to Vanhoover are baffled.” 

“So,” Seville continued, “with all these things in mind, I will attempt to bring a little sunshine into your lives.” 

“Hey, Seville, you cuttin’ in on my wife’s job?” 

“Well, your wife seems to be a bit too busy shining the sun on Las Pegasus and not on Vanhoover, so yes. Yes I am, Goose. You need to talk to her about the lousy job she’s doing.” 

There was laughter on the radio, and also in the dining hall. Hollyhock and Express Delivery both chuckled together. Sundance smiled, but did not laugh. He wasn’t sure he understood the purpose of making light of the situation, but he was certain that it was done to cut the tension a bit, though there were probably bigger, better, far more important reasons.

“You know, Seville, you could probably stand to give your wife a chat as well,” Gosling said. “We Equestrians aren’t exactly friends—” 

“Hey!” Twilight Sparkle’s outrage sounded real. 

“—so she needs to pick up the slack so we’ll all play nice.” 

During the pause that followed, Express Delivery said, “Seville and Goose are relatable, ‘cause they say what we all wish we could say to the princesses. I like hearing them carry on.” 

“Right now, we are beset on all sides by our enemies.” Seville’s voice competed with the low static crackle of the radio, but it was a voice you wanted to hear, so it was easy to make the effort to listen. “We have enemies within and without. There is our Great Enemy, but I do not feel like wasting time speaking of him, because I feel that he gets far too much credit. It is too easy to blame him for the evils we do ourselves. With every awful thing that happens, it is somehow our Great Enemy who is to blame, as if this somehow absolves us of our own wrongdoing.” 

“Well said, Seville.” Twilight’s praise was accompanied by an ear-twitching squeal. 

“I am here today to tell you, our greatness as a nation comes from our Great Enemy. Not just him, but every other trouble that we face. We are a great nation because we have great enemies, great troubles, and great foes that cause us grief. Without them, without these troubles, we would be nothing.” 

Swallowing some tea, Sundance gave careful thought to Seville’s words, uncertain if he believed them. Unlike the tea, this seemed like a hard thing to swallow, like bitter medicine that burned going down. If it was true, it was painful truth, the kind of truth that nopony wanted to hear, the sort of truth that offered no comfort, no relief. 

“Mariner’s attempted coup shook us from our complacency.” There was a brief pause as Seville allowed these words to settle in. “It showed the cracks in our system. A great many issues were revealed, brought into the light. Many, myself included, saw it as proof that Equestria had gone stagnant. I am here today to tell you, Mister Mariner did you a favour. Look at the sweeping justice reform we’re seeing. Yes, I know, everything feels bad right now, but things are changing. These changes take time. Periods of transition are inherently unstable.” 

“What a load of road apples,” Hollyhock muttered as she squeezed her newborn. 

“Shush,” Sauerkraut Pie said to the muttering mom. 

“The old systems are toppling”—a screech interrupted what Twilight had to say—“right now we’re still picking through the rubble as everything comes tumbling down. Whatever comes next, whatever replaces what we have now, it hasn’t been thought of yet. It hasn’t been conceived. We’re stuck picking through the ruins until we decide how to rebuild.” 

“We’re not helpless though,” Seville said, his voice somehow both stern and kind. “Look at what we’re accomplishing. New technologies are discovered every day. Equestria has not had a period of growth like this one, ever. The influx of immigrants has brought new ideas, fresh perspectives, and along with our own brilliant minds, we’ve seen tremendous advances in all of the sciences, from social to industrial. Yes, some of those advances have unleashed a plague of problems, but I say that these problems, these troubles, these are fertile ground for more growth.” 

“That doesn’t put bread in my kids’ mouths,” Hollyhock mumbled to nopony in particular. 

At that moment, Sundance became aware of… a gap. A divide. He couldn’t put it into words, he had trouble just conceiving it in thought, but there was an awareness, a concept that it didn’t matter how hopeful things might be, all that hope was dulled by empty bellies. The radio broadcast, as good as it might be, as hopeful as it tried to be, didn’t feed hungry mouths. It was something, something that society needed, but it wasn’t enough, and Sundance at that moment understood how a pony might grow resentful of this sort of Crown-sponsored optimism. 

Hopeful words were not a roof over one’s head. 

“You might be asking, what has a constant state of conflict done for us?” It was Gosling who spoke, and the question piqued Sundance’s interest. “I’ll tell you. The past decade has seen technological advances unmatched by anything that’s come in the thousand years of Equestria’s history. New advances in medicine, in technology, we’re in a whole new frontier of discovery. Yes, I am fully aware of what the war has cost us, and the price paid by our troops, but even that has been beneficial. Replacement prosthetics are in a state of rapid advancement. We can even manufacture new wings that allow pegasus ponies to fly. These are good things, great things, even if we had to sacrifice much to get them. Future generations will benefit.” 

Losing a wing was something every pegasus feared, and Sundance’s thoughts took a turn for the morbid. With all manner of awful images filtering through his mind, he finished off his tea in a single gulp, plunked down his teacup, and thought about eating a somewhat stale tea biscuit, the last one on the plate. 

“We have to become more forward thinking.” Twilight’s words were tinged with sibilent feedback that popped like hot grease in a skillet. “I understand how difficult that is, especially right now. Things are getting better, even though it feels like everything is getting worse. The transition is tough. It is difficult to strike a balance that makes everypony happy. If we look at the situation in Manehattan, the rail workers strike happened because we gave those workers more freedoms, more rights, and we guaranteed them the right to collectively bargain. Now, these workers are asserting their rights, and there is no food coming into the city. I ask you, do you want the rights of these workers stripped away?” 

“Twilight, that could be taken in the wrong way—” 

“How so, Seville?” 

“It almost sounds like you’re saying that you brought this on yourself with your wants.” 

“But I’m not trying to say that at all.” 

“That might be the case, but it could be misconstrued that way.” 

“Point taken, Seville.” 

Sundanced gawped, stunned into a slack-jawed daze. Had somepony just corrected a princess on the radio, with all of Equestria listening? He was fast to recover, and quick on the uptake. Was this planned? Scripted? Were the radio hosts winging it or was every word carefully chosen, and every interaction planned? Sundance couldn’t be sure, but there was something immensely satisfying about the fact that somepony had taken a princess to task. Eyes narrowing, Sundance’s suspicion blossomed, and he began to wonder just how much the radio controlled or otherwise influenced public opinion—especially Crown-sponsored radio programs like this one. 

And then, Sundance wondered, could he do the same? 

What if he somehow had the resources to broadcast? 

He could tell others that there was hope to be had… a new life to be lived. 

Something that was almost a plan germinated in the folds of his mind. 

Listening to the radio wasn’t getting anything done. While a part of him wanted to keep listening, another part of him wanted action, to do something. Anything. He needed to go find a quiet place so he could do some thinking, which was hard to do without flying. There was some baroning that needed to be done, some plans that had to be made, a future to secure. 

He had to find a way to offer some hope to the world.
> Updraft
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he was not a smart pegasus. Oh, he was a young pegasus, but that was fading as maturity sank its claws into him. At one point in his life, he had known everything, had an answer for everything, and lived with the blissful, blessed assurance that he was a clever pony who had much to offer the world. 

Since becoming baron, he’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t know much of anything. 

What was right, and what was wrong? 

He sat atop the high outcropping of rock that overlooked the box canyon, sighing occasionally, and trying to force his brain to work. As a sort of warm up workout, he tried to determine his feelings about the Manehattan rail workers strike. It seemed simple enough. He’d asked around a bit, talking to anypony who would listen, and even managed to get opinions from Commander Humblewood and Berry Briar. 

The rail workers were in quite a pickle. Wages were not enough to for them to manage basic subsistence in Manehattan, which is to say they were not making enough money to manage rent, food, and basic living expenses. The rail workers had been promised that things would be sorted out, but time was needed. Months passed, a year passed, and the workers took matters into their own hooves. They went on strike and now, the city was held hostage to their whims. With no trains, no food came into the city, and with the city held hostage, something had to be done. 

But the determination of right and wrong was no simple feat. Sundance had trouble reconciling who was right and who was wrong here. It felt wrong to hold the city hostage. With no food coming into the city, or not enough food—only so many wagons could be brought into the city before there was an epic traffic jam—things were now desperate enough for the city to unravel. Rioting seemed likely. 

However, raising rail worker wages was no easy task. Raising wages meant increasing the cost of goods in a city where the cost of goods was already astronomical, and if the basics, things such as food increased in cost, everypony would be poorer. Wages, hard earned bits, would buy less. By increasing the wages of the rail workers, one brought up cost, and the whole city suffered—which meant that, ultimately, everypony’s wages would need to be raised to deal with the increased cost of living. 

Sundance, not a smart pony, had a headache just from thinking about it. 

He had trouble just putting these concepts into terms. The issue, it seemed, was money. Or maybe that wasn’t the issue at all. Perhaps it was a matter of public duty, and doing a job for the sake of the public good. His mother did that. Somehow, she survived. Sure, the rail workers needed to be able to support themselves, but raising their wages meant that everypony else suffered. For a time, Sundance struggled with the notion that not all labour was equal, and that some jobs had to keep wages low for the sake of the public good. 

But what was to be done with those poor souls stuck on the bottom? 

If one automated the process somehow to require fewer labourers to move food and goods into the city, costs could be kept down, but a lot of ponies would be put out of work. No matter how hard he thought about it, there just didn’t seem to be a good solution here, no good way forward. Everything came at a cost that somepony had to pay somehow. 

How did one manage a monstrous entity such as a city anyhow, and keep the beast fed? 

From the looks of things, one didn’t. 

Which left him wondering, what future did his barony have? 

They were a small community who drew a living from the land, but this couldn’t last forever. At some point, with growth, there would be new needs—needs that he was responsible to provide. Heavy was the crown, indeed. Up to this point, the movement of goods into the barony had largely been done though his own efforts—but his sky truck was small and the need was growing. 

Princess Celestia had been alive for who knows how long, and she didn’t seem to have the answers either. This conclusion was a tipping point for Sundance, and he could actually feel his mood souring, curdling into something unpleasant. He felt like shouting, or screaming. Something violent burned hot within him, and the back of his neck felt sweaty. 

The sheer, savage complexity of life irked Sundance, and an irked Sundance was not a happy Sundance. His scalp felt hot enough to fry an egg on, his mane had a most annoying prickle, and all over his body, his skin felt a few sizes too small. The roaring flood of blood through his ears made it difficult to hear anything, and his barely-contained rage reached a boiling point, a point of no return. His fury was such that it could drive any mild-mannered pegasus into savagery. 

Baring his teeth, he spread his wings, and hurled himself skyward. 



 

Everything seemed to be holding together and nothing had yet torn open. The skin of his back was tight, as were his muscles, but everything held. A new burning sensation could be felt, the one of physical exertion, and he reveled in this wonderful pain. As he went hurtling through the sky, his head cleared, the roar in his ears ceased, and the fever of rage cooled. Snarling, he smashed through an errant cloud and shivered as the soft, clinging coolness tickled his skin. 

He’d lost some strength in his wings; there was now a keen awareness of that. The owlbear had torn his back open, ripping and tearing at precious flight muscles, but Corduroy had sewn everything back together and sealed it with body spackle. Twisting his head around, he cast a glance over his withers at the bright red streaks that ran the length of his back. Nothing opened, nothing was leaking, and nothing showed signs of coming apart. 

Teeth gritted, he willed his muscles to obey. Some of his fine control was lost, but that would come back. With a flick of his primaries, which acted like claws raking at the curtain of wind, he rolled, banked, and looped, all to see how his body would react. His back felt as though he was being stabbed by hot pokers, but he didn’t care. 

Going still, he slipped into a smooth glide and allowed the updrafts to keep him aloft. There were mountains to the east of him, and to the north, with wide open plains to the south and to the west. So much of his barony was still unexplored, such as the jagged crags beyond the top of the waterfall. Yellow steam rose from vents in the ground and there were boiling pools of shallow, yellowish murky water. He’d seen it from the air, but hadn’t gone down for a closer look. 

A bit more to the west were the Crags, actually called the Crags, and from the Crags came the river that wound through the orchard ravine. Beyond the Crags were the mountains, real mountains, not foothills or almost-mountains. The snowmelt from these mountains poured down into the Crags, formed pools, these pools overflowed, and the runoff—laden with rich black dirt—eventually flowed into the orchard sheltered in the bottom of a ravine. 

From up here, Sundance could see everything, and had an idea of how it was all connected. Things made sense from up here. Everything felt logical. Water, the lifeblood of the land, all flowed downhill. The water provided. Of course it offered no solutions to the troubles on his mind, but something about the natural beauty and the order of this place was soothing. 

A few miles to the north, he could see the bubbling, boiling lake of tar. He’d seen it before, but never up close. It was the source of the barony’s pitch, which fueled the lamps and torches that gave them light. When the wind blew just right, the fumes from the tar lake made the barony extra smelly, adding nuance to the stench of really bad eggs. 

Flight was effortless. Why, Sundance barely even had tension in his wings. It was easy to be buoyed along by swirling, rising currents, and he kept his primaries spread wide so he could maintain his grip. His wingspan… was impressive. At least he felt that way. He wiggled his primaries a bit, hoping to gain just a few more inches to show off. 

It occurred to him that there was a reason why not many pegasus ponies flew over the barony, and that reason was quite simple: it smelled bad. The hot, redolent stink was a living thing that permeated the air, and any pegasus riding these updrafts would become a stench-ridden bearer of feculent funk. But this stench was his stench, and he rolled around in the wisps of sulphurous musk, no longer caring about how he might smell. 

From below, he saw movement. It was a quick thing that he only noticed on the edge of his vision. Whatever it was, it caught his attention, and his response was almost predatory. With a smooth suppleness, he doubled around in the air, cast his gaze downwards, and waited for whatever movement there might be to register again. 

Again, the movement happened, right on the very edge of his vision. He rolled, banked, and leveled out, hardly even using his wings at all in a marvellous display of airborne domination. He flew with ease, without effort, and now he circled in the area just above the waterfall, trying to spot whatever it was that he kept noticing in the outer edges of his vision. 

Mud pits. Pools of water, some of which steamed. The flowing creek that fed the waterfall. Wildflowers of every colour. Patches of the greenest, lushest grass, the sort that could never, ever exist in a city, or anywhere near a city. Then, as his eyes scoured the ground, he felt something, a tickle in his mind, something that he could only process as a call for help. How? 

He didn’t know, but allowed his instincts to rule him. 

Angling his wings, he dropped into a steep dive. Mindful of his back, he stuck with power gliding, applying a bare minimum of effort to maneuver through the air. As the ground came rushing up to meet him, he saw it, off to his left. With his hind legs trailing out behind him, he angled his hips and this turned him. Primaries spread, he leveled out as he headed towards whatever it was he had seen from the air. Something small, something in need of aid, though he had no idea how he knew that. 

Now, mere yards above the ground, he saw it. Something flopping around in a steaming basin of mud. Not boiling mud, but hot mud nonetheless, and he could hear squeals of pain. Something had fallen in, and couldn’t get out. Some poor, small, furry critter of some sort. No, upon closer inspection, he saw feathers, and wings—stubby underdeveloped wings that flapped in the mud. It looked a lot like Owlister did, a creature still growing in feathers. 

Sundance came to a hover above the hot mud basin and extended his hoof down towards the struggling, flailing creature. A hot reek burned his face, it made his eyes water, and he felt sharp claws sinking into his flesh just above his hoof. A second later, he was scalded as the poor creature pulled itself up out of the muck, which was like far too hot bathwater. Not boiling, but hot enough to do real harm. As the hot mud soaked his pelt, it was all he could do to not cry out. 

Hot! Hot! Hot! 

He wanted to shake his leg, to cool it off, be he was afraid that doing so might shake the poor critter right off. Claws like tiny needles sank deep into his skin as the muddy creature hung on. The claws cut, sliced, but Sundance had greater concerns. Hovering meant flapping his wings, and flapping his wings made his back burn as if it were a forest ablaze. 

An owlish face stared up at him, gratitude plainly visible. 

Already the first blisters were rising up the surface on his leg, not a good sign. Sundance watched bright red rivulets of blood trickle down his leg and from his hoof. The hot mud was caked on, to both the poor creature he had rescued and his own leg. As much as he wanted to fly around and shake the mud free, he couldn’t. All he could do was grit his teeth and allow the steamy mud to scald him. 

“Hang on,” he said to his passenger, “I’ll get us some help!” 



 

Corduroy was not a happy nurse and Sundance winced every time she looked at him. He’d refused treatment, even shouting at her, and she had only reluctantly looked at the rescued critter that Sundance had dragged into her infirmary. Mud was everywhere, along with a fair bit of blood. While his nurse went to work, he waved his leg around, because the cool sensation of moving air was quite a relief on his scalded skin. 

“It’s an owlcoon,” Corduroy said as she poured water over the miserable creature. “Poor little fella. Hmm, looks like his thick fur saved him from the worst of it. This could’ve been a lot nastier. Still some burns and blisters though.” 

“I felt him in my mind,” Sundance blurted out. 

“Huh?” Corduroy rolled the owlcoon over on the table so that she could pour water over its belly. 

“Don’t ask me to explain it,” he said to his nurse. “It was like with Owlister, but different. Similar, but different.” 

“I’d rather you explain what you were doing… flying.” 

“Will he be okay?” 

Corduroy leaned over the table, looked down, and her jowls wrinkled with kind concern. Both of her triangular ears rose, fell, rose again, and then she reached up and adjusted her beanie. With one paw finger, she parted the muddy fur of the owlcoon, had a good look, and then examined other places. 

After a few moments of intense examination she said, “She’ll be fine, I think. Scalded, cooked a bit, but not too bad. Honestly, I think you might have it worse. That leg of yours is a mess.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered. “It’s a she?” 

“She is a she. Nice work, Sundance… once again, you rescued a damsel in distress. Is this your new hobby?” 

“Might as well be,” he replied while still waving his leg around. 

When his nurse scowled, he added, “I saved a really nice diamond dog damsel from the evil clutches of society—” 

“Oh, you went there, did you?” Corduroy’s brows furrowed, and she shook her head. “That’s it, I’m getting the iodine.” 

Upon mention of the word ‘iodine,’ Sundance whimpered. He thought about running, maybe even flying, but that was stupid. If he ran, Corduroy would give chase. If he flew… he would have to land sometime, and his nurse would be waiting for him. As much as he was fond of her, she was a little too enthusiastic about the application of iodine and making certain that wounds were scrubbed clean. Cleanliness was good-dogginess, as she liked to say. 

On the table, the owlcoon squealed, hooted, and squealed again as Corduroy rinsed off the mud. It was a baby still, that much was obvious, and had run afoul of nature. Her owlish face had racoon markings, the black bandit mask, and her tiny body was mostly racoonish, save for the wings and the owlish talons up front—the same talons that had sliced open his leg. 

“I’m going to have to trim off some fur,” Corduroy said, mostly to herself. “The little fuzzball is going to need a caretaker, and I already have somepony in mind.” 

“Who’d you have in mind, Corduroy?” 

“Well,” the nurse replied, smiling, “he keeps pestering his mother for a puppy, or a kitten, but I think this will have to do. Hollyhock will probably grouse a bit, but I think Lemongrass will be thrilled to have a buddy.” 

“Lemongrass?” 

“Why not, Sundance?” 

Still waving his leg, he couldn’t think of a reason to object.
> Sapient outbursts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paradox Sunflower had come, and she did not come alone. She came bearing familiars, a cat as well as an owl, and then had burst through the door of Corduroy’s infirmary. Of course, this annoyed Corduroy, but Paradox—patient, though not a patient—explained herself, what was going on, and offered up a perfectly logical reason as to why she’d come. Her timing? Almost perfect, as Corduroy was on the verge of doling out a lecture. 

Now, as Corduroy patched up his leg, Sundance sat in confused silence while Paradox fawned over the now cleaned up and bandaged owlcoon. Paradox understood magic, and perhaps even more annoying, understood how magic spoke to and interacted with creatures. Within mere seconds of entering, Paradox had announced that the scalded critter was a familiar, which immediately caused one-million and one questions to rise within Sundance’s troubled mind. 

“Magic rewards circumstances and opportunity,” Paradox said, speaking without directing her words at anypony—or anydoggy—in particular. 

“But… the owlcoon could have died,” Corduroy replied as she removed hardened mud from Sundance’s leg. 

“But it didn’t.” As Paradox spoke, Geiger walked a lap around the edge of the table, careful of where he put his paws. “The land… the land is doing something. I don’t know what. It’s like Grandmother Oak and everything else. Sometimes, it feels like the land is preparing. Or that the land is eager to be busy again. We serve the land and the land wants to reward us.” 

“So what if the owlcoon had died?” asked Corduroy. 

“It’s like… cement,” replied Paradox. “It’s not set yet. If we bring Lemongrass in here though, you’ll see something amazing happen. You said it yourself, Corduroy. You thought that Lemongrass could use a friend. That’s the magic of the land, speaking through you, trying to make its will known. Your ideas, your intuition, magic can and does speak through those means.” 

Ears folding flat, the nurse scowled. “My ideas are my own. It was just a reasonable thing to do. Circumstance—” 

“Just like it was circumstance that Sundance just so happened to be flying overhead,” Paradox said, nodding in an annoying know-it-all manner. “Magic is trying to close the loop. It’s like cutie mark magic… something touched by destiny. I cast a spell to find a familiar. For others, it is just something that happens naturally. Through force of will, I made my destiny happen. I seized it. Made destiny serve me. Princess Celestia says that I know more about this subject than just about anypony, even her. It’s not something that is studied, for the most part. I suppose most unicorns don’t think it’s wondrous enough. But I do, and you can bet that I’ll be writing all this down later. The land wants to give the unicorns that live here every advantage, I think.” 

“Sometimes,” Corduroy began in a low, muted voice, “magic sounds delusional. Nonsensical and make-believe, with enough coincidence to give it credibility.” 

“You… you are a magical creature.” Paradox stood aghast, shock plainly visible on her face. “You have magical strength—you’re ogre strong! You have magical claws that can slice through stone like a hot knife through butter. Even worse, you’re an alchemist. You cast spells through alchemical reactions. How can you say that?” 

“It wasn’t as difficult as you’re about to make it out to be—” 

“You live on a planet where a pair of magical pony princess sisters control the sun and moon.” The air now reeked of ozone and little crackles of static could be seen flickering through Paradox’s mane. “Love and friendship are a tangible, measurable force, a source of power. Ugh, you are a dull creature!” 

At this, Corduroy rolled her eyes, and almost said something, but the owlcoon hooted. 

“I know,” Paradox said, apparently in agreement with the owlcoon. 

“You can speak to him?” asked Sundance. 

“Her,” Paradox corrected. “And so can you, if you try. You did once. That cry for help. If you put some effort into it, you could probably talk to Geiger. Say… you’re not a unicorn. Just how is it that you’re talking to familiars, anyhow?” Lips puckered in thought, the studious unicorn cast her scrutinous gaze upon Sundance and began to dissect him with her eyes. 

“Corduroy, help me… she’s doing that thing again… looking at me as if I’m a book to be studied and not a pony.” 

Sighing, Corduroy shook her head, fetched the bottle of iodine, and ignoring Sundance’s sudden howls for mercy, went to work on the mess that was his foreleg. 



 

Magic was the only thing weird enough to make Sundance completely forget about all of his troubles, everything that had driven him skyward in the first place. Introducing Lemongrass to the owlcoon was most certainly magic. Something could be felt, and the shy, mostly quiet colt became quite animated. Corduroy had started to explain how he needed to be careful, but her instructions died on her tongue when she realised they weren’t necessary. 

It was an interaction that, to an observer such as Sundance, was almost as if Lemongrass and the owlcoon had known each other forever, and their introduction was just them picking up where they left off. There was no shy hesitation, no fearful caution, and to Sundance’s eyes, it could only be described as a friendship that had always existed. 

Even Hollyhock seemed shook up by the event. She had started to complain, oh, Hollyhock had a lot to say as a mother whose foal was in close proximity to a wild animal, one that had mauled Sundance just a bit, but these worried words were quick to go away and she, like Sundance, observed in solemn silence. 

Perhaps the most profound thing of all was the change that had come over Paradox, who now fawned over Lemongrass, even going as far as touching him—something that the anxious unicorn typically would not do under any circumstances. Sundance realised that they had something in common now, they both had familiars, and as such, had something that they could talk about. A common ground, a similar shared experience had been established. 

“This is a sacred trust,” Paradox said to Lemongrass. “Twilight Sparkle calls it a very special type of friendship. The bond between a familiar and its master is not well understood. It is one of the many things about magic that remain mysterious, and a lot of ponies take it for granted.” She drew in a deep breath, sighed, and drew in another. 

“Geiger became my best friend, and he gave me the courage to face the world. I don’t always like what he has to say, and sometimes, he pushes me out of my comfort zone, but he does that because he’s my friend. And you, Lemongrass, now you have a very special friend with a very special bond. I think that, when we settle down and begin your magical education, once everything quiets down and I have a place where I can teach you, we’ll focus on this bond and all of the things that can be done with it. Would you like that, Lemongrass?”

The colt looked up at Paradox and for a moment, Sundance was certain that his heart would cease beating. Such a hopeful expression. There was so much joy, so much warmth in the colt’s eyes. As for Paradox, she was trembling, and while whatever it was that she was feeling at the moment remained unknown, she seemed happy enough in her own way. She and Lemongrass had the sort of common ground needed to build a relationship upon, and Sundance was hopeful that good things would come of it. 

“I can be a wizard?” 

“Yes.” Paradox nodded with a great deal of enthusiasm to drive this point home. 

“Sounds nice,” said Lemongrass. 

Then, much to Sundance’s shock and surprise, Paradox pulled the colt into a hug. 



 

All things considered, Sundance felt pretty good about himself. His thoughts didn’t feel so cluttered. His flight, however brief, had given him some clarity of mind, even if no real answers had been found. It didn’t matter that his back hurt, or that his leg was now just a teensy bit mangled, because Lemongrass now had a best friend, a buddy, an accomplice that might one day help him serve tea. 

Anything was possible. 

A know-nothing pegasus from the city of Baltimare might become a baron. 

With anything being possible, so was the unexpected. Coincidence and circumstance. A crystal tree might sprout and start making somewhat unreasonable demands, or perhaps impossible demands. Even worse, one might settle in and attempt to make those impossible things become a reality. Why? To satisfy the whims of a tiny crystalline tree, of course. 

All around him, the impossible was taking place. New homes, new life, there was a multitude of evidence that the barony’s fortunes were turning. So what if there were problems on the horizon? Sundance was aware that there were problems; he knew that Rustic and Turmeric were dealing with a Really Big Problem right now. This minute. But things would work out—and even if they didn’t for some reason, Sundance knew his friends would help him pick up the pieces. 

He’d spent too long on the ground, and at some point, he’d focused too much on too few details. Pegasus ponies did better when focused on the bigger picture. Today, briefly, he had himself a reminder of his barony as a whole. A plethora of little details that made one big satisfying whole. As a reminder, it was greatly needed. 

Everything that Paradox had said stuck with him. It lodged in his mind and he reflected upon it now. Things happened for a reason. Destiny took whatever events were available and did whatever it could with them, almost like playing whatever hand of cards that one had been given. It left him with a lot to think about. If he had failed to save the owlcoon, there would have been a tragic death, sure, but something else would no doubt become Lemongrass’ familiar. 

Which meant that, life went on, even if awful things happened. 

“You look happier.” 

“Pegasus pony has got to fly,” he replied as Corduroy sat down in the grass beside him. 

“And dog has got to give chase.” Corduroy nodded. “Dirty things have to be scrubbed.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, Corduroy. My brain was filled with clutter and everything just sort of happened. Did I do myself harm?” 

The nurse did not respond right away, but she did rest her broad paw upon Sundance’s neck. She worked out a few tangles in his mane with her paw-finger, gave his ear a good-natured flick, and then, after whole seconds had passed, she said, “No, I don’t think you did. I did a good job of patching you up. You healed faster than I thought you would. I’m getting better at stitch-magic. Or maybe it’s the new and improved formula body spackle. It’s time for you to rebuild and recondition those muscles so they don’t atrophy. Short, brief flights. No long distance. Maybe give it another week or so. Can you do that?” 

“Sure,” he was quick to say, but he was also dismayed by what he’d heard. 

“As for your leg, I’m going to have to keep an eye on that. We don’t want infections. Some of those lacerations were pretty deep. That owlcoon has some serious talons and I can’t imagine what it must have felt like letting that critter get a good grip on you. How’d you do it?” 

Sundance shrugged—and felt his back blaze in agony. 

“It should be fine,” Corduroy said. “Thick, dense fur and what feathers it had saved it from serious harm. You know, I wonder sometimes, why is it that griffons can talk, but owlbears, owlcoons, and owlcats do not. I mean, you mix an eagle and a lion, and you get a talking griffon. So why not a talking owl mixed with a racoon? What makes some creatures sapient, and others not? Like deer. Most deer are dumb animals. But there are deer in the Everfree and other places that talk. I’ve met a talking mouse… Mister Teapot introduced me. That mouse was smart. Was a geologist. He worked with Professor Maud Pie.” 

Sundance found himself at a loss for words. 

“I’m a talking dog. You… you’re a talking bird-horse—” 

“Hey!” 

“Well, you are.” Corduroy’s broad paw stroked Sundance’s neck. 

Now sullen, Sundance made his best annoyed bird-horse face at his talking dog companion. 

“Without all the distractions of modern life, I’ve been more meditative. More philosophical. I keep thinking about stuff that I’ve never given much thought to before. From the sounds of things, you have too… which pushed you into the sky today so you could sort your head out. I find it satisfying to dig holes. Why can’t I stop thinking about the nature of things?” 

“I had my own funny thought this morning, when I was pinching a loaf—” 

“Oh, gross!” Then, after a disgusted growl, she asked, “What was it?” 

“Well, I was thinking about the radio, and I started to wonder, what if the radio makes ponies stupid?” 

“Wait”—Corduroy held up her paw—“how would the radio make ponies stupid?” 

Sundance leaned into Corduroy’s touch while trying to gather his thoughts. This was a complex mess of thoughts, and he hadn't had the time to put everything into words. Corduroy’s arm slipped over his withers and when she pulled him close, he didn’t resist. It felt nice, it felt good to be near her, to be in close contact with her. He’d never quite had a friend like her, the sort of friend that he didn’t mind if his space was invaded. 

“Some ponies are lazy, Corduroy.” It wasn’t his best start, but it worked, he felt. “Listening to the radio is easy. It’s easy to listen to the radio and hear all the facts and opinions… and then you can repeat them and sound smart. Reading takes time, it takes effort, and after you read you have to digest everything and make sense of it. You have to form your own opinion with what you’ve been given. But with radio, you get all of the smart without all of the effort. Movies, too. I mean, I like movies, but I always feel disappointed by them. My mom says they’re all dumbed down to appeal to the lowest common denominator. She also says that movies rot your brain and make you retarded—even though she occasionally watches movies. My mom is a tough pony to make sense of, at times.” 

“Hold up.” Corduroy’s face scrunched into a wizened mess of wrinkles. “Are you saying that radio and movies will make us stop reading books? If we stop reading… what happens to our vocabulary? Our ability to converse? Are you suggesting that we’ll just repeat whatever we hear on the radio and from movies? Do you think we’ll turn stupid? Will language be dumbed down for mass public consumption?” 

“It’s just something that popped into my head and I started to worry about it. You’re smarter than I am, by far, and now you’ve just greatly expanded everything I can worry about.” 

“Well, now I’m worrying about it. That seems plausible.” 

“I mean, what if Amber Dawn and her brother, Lemongrass, stop reading books or no longer have books read to them, and they just sit there and listen to the radio? I mean, if the radio has story hour, that’s one thing—that’s good. Authors have a sacred duty to introduce new words. I read that in a book once, back when I tried my hoof at being a writer. It behooves a writer to slip in complex, complicated words now and then. But story hour is story hour, and it only lasts for about an hour, and then there’s all the other stuff on the radio. The adventure plays and radio serials are fun… but also pretty dumb, if you pay attention.” 

“You’re right,” said Corduroy. 

“But that’s also true of books, too. For every Daring Do novel there are plenty of cheap pulp fictions that are absolutely terrible. Do you think the quality of literature has gone down hill with cheap, modern mass-production? I mean, it used to be that getting a book printed and bound was expensive. So only really good books were made, because of reasons of cost. Now, we have cheap pulpy paperbacks that are practically disposable. Anything can be printed. Has this been a help or hindrance?” 

“I don’t know.” Corduroy pulled Sundance a little closer, and gave him an affectionate squeeze. “This is a side of you that I did not expect. You’re a thinker, Sundance.” 

“I’m not all that bright, but I do try to work with what I have,” he replied. 

“Well, you’ve successfully made me paranoid of mass-media. Nice work. Excellent job.” 

“I do my best,” he said to his nurse, allowing himself a rare moment of gentle sarcasm.
> The structure of friendship
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This dome home looked pretty much like every other dome home, and Sundance wasn’t quite sure why he’d been asked to inspect it. The floor was gloriously smooth, but not too smooth. There was just enough friction to maintain a good grip going up and down the ramp. As for the split-level floor, it made Sundance think of a half of a pizza, or a pie. The wrought iron wood stove wasn’t very large, and one had to chop the wood down to a rather small size. Beds could be found beneath the split-level, a cosy, comfortable spot to sleep indeed. Everything seemed to be in order, and reaching out, he prodded at the wooden rail with his uninjured leg. 

Double Helping grinned up at him from the floor down below. 

“Alright, why was I called? What am I missing?” 

“Oh, there’s something that makes this domicile special,” a rather husky griffoness said to Sundance. She smoothed back her feathered crest and cast a sidelong glance at Double Helping. “Pearly White over there, he did most of the finishing work himself, and, well, something about the process spoke to him—” 

“It did!” Double Helping blurted out, and he turned himself around sideways. “Look! Look at me! I’m not a floor mopper! I’m a carpenter!” 

Squinting, Sundance focused his gaze upon Double Helping, who was no longer blank. A trio of tools could be seen; a saw, a hammer, and a carpenter’s square. Double Helping was almost panting, his sides were heaving now, and his smile almost reached his ears. After taking everything in, Sundance was left with only one thing to say. 

“This is fantastic.” 

“He’s a natural,” the griffoness said. “You should see him go. He had a half-a-dozen hammers going all at once. Naturally, we tried to recruit him, but he insists on staying. He’s loyal, that one.” 

“Hmm.” Sundance nodded; it felt like the right thing to do, the right way to respond. 

“Commander Humblewood says it’s an odd application of magic. Most unicorns tend to just magic stuff together, but Double Helping doesn’t seem to have much in the way of magic. But his telekinesis is strong and he has exceptional mental dexterity. You have an asset, Lord Sundance.” 

“I could move multiple mops,” Double Helping remarked, his face darkening as he spoke. “Could never quite get the cleaning spell to work. Always ended up with a mess. Had to do everything the hard way.” 

“So you did most of this?” Sundance asked. 

“Not only did he do almost all of this by himself, but he did it in record time. We’ve been giving him a crash course on the basics of carpentry for the past few days. Today, he just… well”—the griffoness shrugged—“he kinda exploded. He just goes to town and then his mark shows up. So, this dome… this dome is a testament to his good work, and—” 

“I wanted to ask if I could live here. In this one. The place I found my mark. Gothcruz and I are willing to share. He’s my friend. I’d really like to claim this one, it would mean so much to me.” 

“Sure,” Sundance replied without thinking about it. “You’ve earned it. Consider this one yours. You’ve done a fine job, Double Helping. I’m proud of you.” 

The colt’s eyes glistened. “You’re proud of me?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I don’t think anypony has ever said that to me.” 

“Well, I am.” Sundance paused when the first tear fell, which left him feeling squirmy. 

“Thank you, Sire.” 

Somewhat annoyed, Sundance had hoped that the younger generation, those new to the barony, would not develop this habit, but this did not seem to be the case. Double Helping was full to overflowing with worshipful adoration, and Sundance knew that respectful titles would just keep coming. Nothing could be done about it. 

“Keep up the good work.” Sundance raised his wing in a gentle salute, it felt like the right thing to do at the moment. “Try to get as much training as you can while the Gringineers are here. Make the most of this time.” 

“I will.” The colt nodded, eager. 

“Now, if you will excuse me, inspecting the gatehouse is next on my to-do list.” 



 

There was a sense of momentum now, a profound sense of weight to everything. Things, events, they continued to happen, introducing progress at a breakneck pace. Sundance could not help but think about what Paradox had said, about the land potentially preparing. For what? Just the current explosive growth? Something else, perhaps? Did the land know something he didn’t? Could the land have a possible sapience of its own, and could that intelligence somehow be aware of destiny? 

His encounter with the owlcoon had left him thoughtful. 

Things he might have once dismissed outright now felt possible. He’d met a good diamond dog—something that shattered all of his preconceived notions and perceptions. There was a tiny crystal tree that had sprouted. The ebb and flow of magic permeated all things, including himself. Grandmother Oak somehow gave the barony new magic, new life. Had the owlcoon somehow been touched by Grandmother Oak’s magic? 

This sudden realisation gave Sundance pause, and he froze in place mid-step. 

“Your Grace!” A pegasus ravaged by cruel adolescence plopped down with a hard landing. “We’re making plans for the Royal Family’s arrival. I’m Private Fluffernutter, and I was sent to ask if you had any ideas for a shindig.” 

“Fluffernutter?” Pulled from his thoughts, Sundance’s head cocked off to the right, then the left, and then back to the right again. 

The poor pegasus reddened a bit, and rubbed his head with his wing, flustered. “Me mom had a cute nickname for me as a foal. It just sort of became my name. Don’t listen to the rumours, it’s not because I keep tuggin’ on my winky.” 

Unable to help himself, Sundance had to ask, “But… do you tug on your winky?” 

“Of course I do. I’d never be able to get to sleep otherwise. So, you have any ideas or not?” 

Sundance thought about winky tugging, and twenty-one gun salutes, but kept his thoughts to himself. One wing extended on its own, without thought, without bidding, and he stroked his chin while inquiring if the bit of cloud between his ears had any ideas. Though great effort was made, nothing came to mind. What could he possibly do to wow his guests? 

“So, Fluffernutter, what is it that you do in the Gringineers, anyhow?” 

“At the moment, I feed about four-hundred and some-odd mouths. Having a rough go, but I just started. Natural cook, I am. But no desire to work in restaurants. One day, a few months ago, I was listening to the radio, and there was this program, and it’s about disaster relief. You know, that big tidal wave that Grogar’s wizards launched at the coast of Zebrabwe. They say it was a half a mile high wall of water traveling almost at the speed of sound when it hit the coast.” The pimply pegasus paused, perturbed. 

“That’s an awful lot of devastation, you know?” The colt’s head turned off to one side, and his eyes narrowed. “The radio program talked about starvation, and how tragic it was that some poor creature survived the tidal wave somehow, only to die of hunger. When the program was over, I left the apartment, and I enlisted. Me mom is furious, and me dad, he’s not too happy either. But a pony has got to do what a pony has got to do, and I gotta feed the hungry.” 

“That’s admirable,” replied Sundance. 

“I’m not much of a fighter. What am I gonna do, threaten somepony with my spatula? But I’m fighting hunger and starvation. I don’t feel powerless like I did, you know? All that despair. I grew up in Baltimare. Couldn’t see a future for myself. It’s a bit bleak. Sure, I’m not fighting in the trenches, but I’m doing something meaningful. I’m doing something. What I do matters. My parents… I think they’re too crushed by depression to understand what I’m doing. All the fight has been squeezed out of them by hard living.” 

Sundance nodded; he understood, perhaps a bit too well. As he stood there, thoughtful, reflecting on what Fluffernutter had said, he had an idea. It was a strange idea, sure, but it was an idea. His wing, still moving autonomously on its own, reached up and smoothed back his mane, sweeping it away from his face. 

“I don’t have an idea for a party, but I do have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it,” Fluffernutter said. 

“Might be nice for Princess Celestia and Prince Gosling to know what’s going on. Why all this matters.” Sundance took a moment to transmute his thoughts into words, and he drew upon his own brief stint as a writer. “We need a monument saying why all of you are here. Just a short paragraph perhaps. A reason. A purpose. Put into words. We could carve those words into stone.” Tilting his head, he glanced at the gatehouse. “You know, the gatehouse is made of stone.” 

“A bit of graffiti, then?” asked Fluffernutter, who now also rubbed his chin with one wing. 

“Just cover every available inch with uh, what’s it called—” 

“Etching?” 

“Yeah, that. Have everypony write out a short paragraph or two about why they’re here and what they hope to accomplish. Then have some unicorns etch those words into the stone. Everypony who passes through the gatehouse will be able to read those words, and be inspired. I could be wrong, but I think Princess Celestia might like something like that. It’s not much of a party though. In fact, it doesn’t seem exciting at all.” 

“Still a fine idea,” replied Fluffernutter. “I’ll go have a jabber at the Sarge. We can make this happen.” 

“Excellent, I look forward to seeing how it turns out.” Without realising that he was doing it, Sundance saluted with his wing. 

Fluffernutter returned the informal salute with one of his own, and then departed. 



 

There was no door, but one would soon be constructed. Beyond the opening, there was a small room, an entrance area of sorts, and in the corner was a circular steel staircase. The stairs were steep and tight, not that Sundance minded, because he’d hardly use them, because there was a rooftop entrance. This room was cosy enough, with just enough space for a couch, maybe, a sitting chair or two, and maybe a bookcase. But then, after stepping through the arched doorway, he noticed the racks and shelves on the wall immediately to his right. Storage, perhaps? 

Commander Humblewood made his way up the stairs, his hooves ringing out like death knells on each steel riser. The sound was like that of a tolling bell, or a gong, a noisy, though pleasant resonation of steel. Sundance waited for a moment, and then followed the commander up the stairs. 

“This is the belltower,” the commander said as he continued up the stairs and into the next level. “There’s a room here, not much of a room, same size as the one below. The bottom floor is perfect for an armory. It’s good to keep weapons right near the gate. We’ll have the lift mechanism installed later today, and that’ll take up a bit of space down there. Our brightest and cleverest have a plan to use water pressure to raise and lower the portcullis.” 

So much for using the lower floor as a sitting room. 

The second floor was exactly like the first, but empty. There was a narrow window here, with no glass just yet, but the heavy steel shutter was already installed. Rough stone blocks formed the walls, and the floor was made from heavy timbers that had not yet been stained. Commander Humblewood was already on the third floor, and Sundance followed. 



 

Warm sun struck Sundance in the face and he raised his wing to shield his face from the glare. There were a number of narrow slits in the walls that served as windows, but there were also skylights overhead. Above him, the roof was made of steel and glass, and the heavy steel plate that offered protection was in the open position. This room was much larger, though the stairs leading upwards did take up some of the space. 

Doorways offered tantalising glimpses of other rooms. 

Turning about, Sundance saw a massive stone fireplace, the inside of which was lined with thick panels of black wrought iron. A slab of granite acted as a mantle, and the hearth was made from a jigsaw of polished river stones. It was the perfect sort of fireplace, the sort that one could congregate around with guests. Stories could be read or told by firelight. Tired old bones could sit here and keep toasty warm. That is if those old bones could make it up the stairs. 

“Sir, your face says everything.” Commander Humblewood smiled, cleared his throat, all while standing rigid near the stairs. “Everything is mostly done. Through that door is the gallery, the long, narrow room directly above the gate.” He pointed with his hoof as he spoke. “Two floors up you’ll find the bell. In the small room just above us, you’ll find a doorway to the outside, and a small space to land. There, you’ll also find the mechanism that slides the security plate in place over the skylights. This place is secure. We built it as an actual fortress. You and your subjects can take refuge in here, if need be. Might be cramped, but you could fit a few dozen in here, no problem.” 

Clearing his throat once more, the commander continued, “Beyond that door is your bedroom. We’ve constructed a comfortable, respectable sleeping box. It is not a large space, your bedroom, but it is perfectly serviceable, I suspect. At the other end of the gallery, there are rooms that could be used as guest rooms. Both are heated with small, efficient wood stoves.” 

Sundance, overcome with emotion, didn’t know what to say. The fact that this structure even existed was astonishing. It had been built in mere days, with much of the planning done by Nuance. It was a construction of stark beauty, a hard, practical, pragmatic aesthetic that Sundance found himself admiring. But the skylight overhead… that was beautiful by any standard, and he spent seconds looking up so that he might appreciate it. 

“I fear the gallery will never be a warm place come winter.” Commander Humblewood also looked up to admire the overhead skylight. “That’s the nature of castles and fortresses and what have you. You might be able to get a wizard to cast some magic to keep things warm. Go on, go have a look at it. I do believe you will find it quite impressive.” 



 

The gallery was, indeed, impressive. Stone walls. Steel girders formed rafters. It was a long, narrow space, but tall. Why, Sundance could fly through here if he wanted. The rafters were quite inviting, with natural nooks and ledges, places where pillows could be stashed. There were windows that overlooked the natural courtyard formed by the box canyon, and he now understood why this place was referred to as the gallery. 

“Come winter, you’ll want to close this space off, so that you can keep the heat in your parlour. Winters are brutal here. We’re at a much higher elevation than you realise, and these mountains spawn feral storms. The summers are such that you might still need a small fire in the evening, though the days can be quite warm. But the winters… the winters will brutalise you. I only thought it fair to warn you.” 

“That bad, huh?” asked Sundance. 

“No,” was Commander Humblewood’s reply. “Worse. Much worse.” 

Unsure of how to respond, Sundance stared the commander in the eye. 

“That’s part of the reason why we built the domes. We’ve seen how they do in hot weather and tropical environments. And we know they’re not bad in the cold. But here… here… this place is practically boreal. The wind is a living thing that hungers for warm flesh. We get arctic masses that blow down from the north. I hate to say it, Lord Sundance… but there is a good chance that your subjects will be warmer in their homes than you are in yours.” 

“That’s fascinating,” said Sundance, because he had nothing better to say. 

“Oh, it is,” Commander Humblewood agreed, nodding. “Ponies used to be of heartier stock. Our physiology allowed us to endure deprivation and hardship. Modern living has softened us up a bit. Look, what I’m trying to say is, don’t give up. A lot of us believe in what you’re doing out here. You should know what you’re in for. If this place becomes unbearably cold, don’t be prideful. Ditch it and take up residence with your subjects. The last thing Equestria needs is yet another noble that’s a miserable cuss.” 

“Thanks for the warning.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“Thank you,” Sundance said as his face flushed with warm gratitude. “Really, thank you for everything. You’ve been wonderful. Even when I badger you with questions. I have to say, I’ve learned quite a bit. You have my word, I’ll pay this forward. I will spend my every waking hour proving myself worthy of this chance, this assistance.” 

Commander Humblewood’s hearty hardness softened a bit and there was something profound about his eyes. Sundance dared to keep looking, aware of the almost intimate connection, this open acknowledgement of emotion between two ponies. After a time, the commander nodded. 

“I am honoured to count you as a friend,” Commander Humblewood said after the prolonged silence. “As your friend, I’ll be back to check up on you. Come winter, I’ll return, with bourbon. That is, if I’m not shipped off.” 

“That’d be great, I’d like that. When you return, I promise that you’ll see progress…”
> A chance meeting
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For what purpose was the bunkhouse built? It was a compact, yet somehow spacious structure. It had twenty beds in total, more than the requested amount due to a clever use of space. From the outside, the building looked like a cloudcrete pound cake, a long rectangle with soft, rounded corners. Inside, it was one big room, nothing special, with beds against the walls and a wooden table dominating the middle. 

Just what was Twilight Velvet planning? 

Would she send more convicts? 

Lawbreakers? 

Mares like Hollyhock? 

It bothered him just a little that Twilight Velvet was making plans in his barony without consulting him. He stood in one spot, near the table, staring at a bunk bed, seemingly fixated upon said bed, but he was actually lost in thought. Aside from all of the other things competing for his attention, such as the state of his barony, whatever trouble Rustic and Turmeric were dealing with, Princess Celestia’s arrival and grand inspection, all of which were weighty things, he was somewhat troubled by the sheer number of agendas all coming together here, in this place. 

What if they conflicted? 

He didn’t think Twilight Velvet’s plans would conflict with his own. She probably had some well-meaning do-goodery in mind, which was fine. While this was reassuring, he still worried that if he didn’t take the reins a bit more, it might mean trouble. So much had been done with him just passively allowing things to play out, and that had worked. Spectacularly well, in fact. But making decisions meant understanding the issues, and he had very little knowledge of the issues, or the politics that drove them. 

Doing something, anything, meant committing himself to things he didn’t understand. 

“What do you know of Twilight Velvet?” Sundance asked of the young unicorn mare in the room with him. 

Her first reaction was to be startled; not a surprise, really, as he had been absolutely silent for whole minutes. She was a bookish sort, with thick glasses that magnified her blue-purple eyes. Her mane was drawn back into a sloppy sort-of-bun, of which whole hanks of hair had already escaped. When she whirled around to look at him, there was something appealing about her expression of befuddlement, and Sundance was rather puzzled by his own attraction to her, as nothing about her did anything for his sense of physicality. 

But, she was appealingly nerdy in the extreme. 

When she replied, her voice was excruciatingly nasal, as if she suffered prodigiously from springtime allergies and pollen. 

“Well, there are many who call Twilight Velvet the Princess of Bureaucracy.” The young mare licked her lips, nervous, and when she’d recovered a bit, she gave Sundance a shy, but warm smile. “She’s the Reformer. Well, there’s a number of Reformers really, like Prince Gosling, but Mrs. Velvet completely restructured our government and administrative bureaucracy.” 

Patient, he waited, hoping that more would come. 

“I’m here, today, right now, because of Mrs. Velvet.” 

“Oh?” Sundance wondered if the nice young mare might explain herself. 

“My mother hit a rough spot when she lost her job. It wasn’t her fault, she was a hard worker, but the factory closed without warning. My mother was her work, if you know what I mean. Earth pony. Her strength was her pride. She operated a stamp press that smooshed little pieces of metal into parking brakes for delivery wagons. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but my mother made hundreds of those things a day, and she was proud of her work.” 

Sundance nodded; it felt like the right reaction, to show that he was listening. 

“Mom fell down hard. She’d gone to work in the factory early, as a filly. Never finished primary school. Mom was the sort that just sort of settled in and did what life expected her to do. She often said she understood her place in the world—at least, before the factory closed. After… well, that’s a whole different story. Afterwards, Mom, well, she was lost. She was a living steam piston that needed no coal to operate, just oats.” 

As this was said, Sundance thought of his father. 

“My mother, she started drinking. Like, a lot. She was hurt and confused. We lost our apartment and homelessness made everything pretty bad. We drifted a bit, going from city to city, but Mom couldn’t find anything. As things got harder, her drinking got worse, and she started doing whatever she had to do to get bits. Even bad things… things she was ashamed of. She held me a lot, and she cried, and one night, she realised what this life was doing to me…” 

Sundance heard the young mare gulp, and as she fumbled for what to say, he asked, “What happened?” 

“Mom decided that I shouldn’t have to suffer for her failure. She took me to the orphanarium in Las Pegasus, so she could give up custody. Mrs. Velvet just so happened to be there, she was doing an inspection of the place you see, and when she found out what Mom was going to do, Mrs. Velvet just sort of, well, she took over. My mother was glad to give over the reins, I think. She never offered any sort of resistance, and just sort of did everything she was told. But Mrs. Velvet kept us together. She made a promise, and she kept it.” 

Hearing this, Sundance wondered if the bunkhouse was a promise that had to be kept. 

“Mom got sober. She got cleaned up. Mrs. Velvet eventually found my mother a job as a mail sorter, which is just another lever-pulling job. I worry sometimes that it too, will go away. The world changes and moves on, ya know? It don’t slow down so we can catch our breath.” 

With everything said fresh in his mind, Sundance thought about his barony, his purpose here, and his own position as a bureaucrat. He was a bureaucrat, that much couldn’t be denied. His genealogy project was, in essence, a sort of hooves-on higher education of sorts that taught him everything he needed to know about bureaucracy. With all of this in mind, his own position as baron gained a little much-needed clarity. Once things picked up here, once there was something to work with, he would be in a position to function as an administrator. 

All manner of possibilities opened themselves up to him in this moment. 

“Mrs. Velvet sort of, well, she worms her way into everything. Worms sounds bad, don’t it?” 

He nodded, but did so with a good-natured smile. 

“But that’s what she does. She gets involved in everything, in every aspect of every government office, and she gets those in positions of power beholden to her. Owing her a favour. Over time, gradually, she causes change. This bunkhouse? She wants something from you. If you give her what she wants, she’ll reciprocate and give you more of what you want and need.” 

“How do you know so much about all of this?” he asked. 

“Before joining the Gringineers, I worked as an intern beneath Mrs. Velvet’s assistants, Mister Quick and Mrs. Oddbody. My mark came late. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and Mrs. Velvet had me try all manner of stuff to keep me busy. Even got to work as a research assistant to the Crusaders for a bit. That was exciting. But then, one day, my hard hat showed up, and now, I’m doing this. But all my skills mean I won’t just be a construction worker. Unlike my mother, I don’t have to worry about the levers in my life becoming obsolete.” 

“So, you think I should work with Mrs. Velvet?” 

Even as he asked his question, he began to wonder what he might be able to get from Twilight Velvet in return. Clearly, she was a mare with reach, resources, and influence. He had need of a great many things, but lacked resources. Mrs. Velvet was a mare in need of things as well—this bunkhouse was proof of that—and he started to wonder what sort of obscure trades he might be able to make that would benefit his barony. 

The trouble, as he saw it, was that he could barely even conceive what a mare like Twilight Velvet might want, so he didn’t know what to offer. Which, as far as trades went, put him at a severe disadvantage. Mrs. Velvet had a better understanding of what he had to offer than he did; she knew his resources and what could be exploited. To deal with Mrs. Velvet, he would have to spend more time thinking, not as a baron, but as a calculating bureaucrat. 

“Want some advice?”

Pulled from his thoughts, Sundance nodded. 

“Mrs. Velvet loves to haggle. Even if she seems angry, or put off. It’s an act. Apparently, it’s the same act that she used on her daughter and her son, Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor. When Mrs. Velvet haggles, it isn’t about what she can get from you, it’s more about getting you to do better. She’s trying to get you to think. She’ll stonewall you and manipulate you. Make you angry, if she can. Play with your emotions. She did this to my mother… something I learned in hindsight. One of the great things about my internship, I guess.” 

“Why haggle for something if you’re not trying to get more of.. well, whatever?” 

“Altruistic haggling?” The young mare adjusted her glasses, smiled, and her head bobbed as she nodded, thoughtful. “She does a lot of things that don’t make sense. At least, not to me. And she’s taught all of her tricks to Mrs. Oddbody, who’ll probably be her successor one day. Sometimes, you have to shake things up to get a new approach to work, or to even see a new approach. Ponies get settled into routine, and don’t want to try new things. Like… my mother. She was fine trading whole hours of her life, pulling a lever in exchange for bits. It’s uncomplicated. I think the haggling process stimulates new ideas, gets ponies to think about stuff they might not normally think about. I hate to say it, but most ponies aren’t great thinkers. We just follow the herd as a whole, come what may.” 

“I’m not a great thinker,” Sundance remarked with brutal honesty. 

“Are you sure about that?” the young mare asked. 

“Well, I…” Sundance, with his gaze focused on the adorable, nerdy mare, reconsidered. “You know, I don’t recall your name. Perhaps you told me, but I failed to remember?” 

“My name is Eventide Sparks—no, don’t even say it. Yes, I am aware of my name and what it means. Yes, I’ve heard it all before. It was a fad, okay? A phase that a bunch of dumb parents all inflicted upon us poor foals. Every conceivable word for evening or the start of night. My mother spent hours in the public library trying to find a name that wasn’t already popular and common. She pestered the poor librarians to no end, to hear her tell the story.” 

Sundance, silent, wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“Sunburst, Scholar of the Crystal Empire, along with his counterpart, Dim, the Scholar of Night, theorise that fad names are a manifestation of prophecy. A hallmark of destiny. Pony society went through a phase where every foal had some kind of night-based name, and not long after, Nightmare Moon returned. I like this theory, it is a good explanation for mass-stupidity.” 

“Huh.” Almost slack-jawed, Sundance thought about what had just been said. It blew his mind. Names as prophecy. He’d always thought of names as being made popular by characters in books, or movies. Back home in Baltimare, he knew quite a number of Darings, ponies with the name of Courageous, more than one Dauntless, Valorouses aplenty, Gallants were common, as were Resolutes, and in school he’d known a girl named Spunky—a terrible, horrible, awful name that caused her all manner of trouble. 

“You know,” the young mare said with a wry smile, “you’re kinda cute when you stand there, looking all stupid.” Then, raising her hoof, she gently closed Sundance’s mouth for him. 

Her touch was electric and Sundance, overwhelmed, wasn’t sure how to respond. In the entirety of his life, he’d never been in a situation like this one, and didn’t know the rules. Was he infatuated? What was this? Why was he reacting this way? For what reason was he smitten? Visually, she did nothing for him, but there was something appealing about her nerdy intellect, as well as her vivacious nature. 

But this was complicated. She was young—though adult enough to enlist and become a soldier, even though she was still of the age where she should be in secondary school. A million different thoughts raced through his mind, many of which were chased by thoughts of his mother, the mare that had raised him to do right, to be right, and to behave right. Not knowing the rules, he couldn’t fathom how to respond. 

Whole gaggles of girls had been brought to his barony and set free to run amok. He was no longer the loser he was in secondary school, he was a baron, a pony in a position of power, and for the first time, he gave serious thought to how that might make him attractive to some mares. His mother’s voice echoed through his skull, warning him that he’d better not take advantage of that, and do wrong. 

He’d even noticed more than a few fellas, as well… 

And so began to wonder if he too, had been noticed. 

Well, of course he had—Miss Sparks was noticing him right now, thus causing his state of alarm. 

He allowed himself to look at her, as there was no harm in looking, was there? Her eyes, a curious shade of blue-purple, were warm and animated. Her mane was the colour of fresh hay, a colour that couldn’t decide if it were yellow or green. As for her pelt, she might appear whitish at first glance, but it was whitish with a pale green tint. She was chubby, though it could be said that she was chubby in all of the right places, the best places, the places were chubbiness was welcomed. 

Much to his surprise, he found himself admiring and appreciating a different aesthetic than he normally prefered, and while it didn’t do much for him, he could understand the appeal of it. The chubbiness would be quite squeezable, if that was your thing, and he supposed that such a thing was inviting, in its own way. 

“I’ve never had a stallion look at me like that before,” she said, her voice husky and uncertain. “Plenty of colts have looked at me, and I know what they want. It’s easy to know what they want. But you… you looked at all of me, and that was quite flattering. Thank you. Look, I know I’m not a pretty mare… not that it matters to most colts my age. They’re just eager to take whatever they can get.” 

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, turning the tables. 

She was confused for a moment, but then her eyes lit up with understanding. After taking a step back, she bit her bottom lip, chewed it for a moment, and peered up at Sundance with a warm, thoughtful expression. “You might be smarter than you let on, and maybe I’m prettier than I think I am. Thank you… it’s hard to deal with colts my own age. They’ve only got one thing on their mind. Is it warm in here? It feels warm in here. Kinda stuffy. Feels like a furnace.” 

Suddenly, Sundance wanted to say all kinds of things—but he didn’t. She was enlisted, had obligations. He was in a position of authority, and had his own obligations. This was infatuation, he was certain of it, and while infatuation might be fun to act upon, it didn’t feel appropriate. It was a fleeting thing, a passing thing, fun to experience—but certain to cause trouble if acted upon. 

“I can’t have conversations with colts my own age,” she said, her voice still husky and uncertain. “They’re too distracted and want to make out. Or do… other things. It was nice being able to have an adult conversation with you, and for you to have so much restraint… I liked it. I liked it a lot. Sure is warm in here. I’ve never turned my eye on an older guy before. Maybe I should have. But not too old. That’d be creepy. Wow, it’s hot in here. Are you sweating? I’m sweating. I got the fat filly sweats, and oh my Luna, I can’t believe I just said that out loud. Why am I acting like a scatterbrained school filly?” 

He thought of his own days in school, his insecurities, and suspected that he had more in common with his fellow students than he might have realised. 

“Fat filly sweats are the worst,” Eventide Sparks muttered, mostly to herself. “Can’t sit down nowhere, as you’ll leave behind a big wet buttprint. Or worse. You have to be careful of how you sit down, and what touches what, or you’ll leave behind something worse than a big wet buttprint. Why am I still talking about this? What is this sudden verbal diarrhea I am cursed with? I just had the most wonderful adult conversation in my life, and now I’m talking about fat filly sweats. I need my head examined.” 

She blinked, shuffled a bit, her tail flicked from side to side, and she licked her lips. 

“You’re incredibly nice,” she said to Sundance, while somehow managing to stare him in the eye and avoid looking directly at him at the same time. “It was rough growing up in Canterlot, after Mrs. Velvet moved us there and got my mother a job. Canterlot has a lot of beautiful ponies, and I never felt beautiful. Mrs. Oddbody, she’s beautiful, and I tried to be like her. Put my mane up in a bun… I, ah, uh, well, you know, it’s just not as rewarding when some guy looks at you and wants you because of lust. Or desperation. Colts!” 

She blew a raspberry. 

“It’s not very fulfilling. Since you’re a guy, I feel you should know these things. When you meet the right girl, and I’m sure you will, look at her the same way you just looked at me, and things will be just fine. Great, even.” 

“I was a colt once,” he said to the shuffling, self-conscious young mare. “As a colt, I too was insecure. Didn’t think I was attractive. I might have had more trouble than most colts my age, because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted. I was into both colts and fillies. Even now, I still don’t know which way I swing. Colts are colts though, just as fillies are fillies, and maybe you should give them a chance. We’re not so different. I think we’re all insecure and in need of reassurance. Affirmation that we’re desirable. In fact, maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. Perhaps what I need isn’t so much which direction I swing, but that somepony finds me desirable in return.” 

“That’s, uh, a lot to think about,” the now scared young mare replied. 

Sundance nodded. 

“That’s something I never thought of.” The young unicorn’s face crinkled with concentration and it was clear that she was now distracted. Shaking her head, she spoke, saying, “I’m always worried about being fat. Makes me mad, sometimes, that a pony looks at me and dismisses me because I’m fat, and they do so without getting to know me. Me. Me as a pony. But I think I’ve been doing the same. Judging colts because they’re colts. It’s complicated. Why does it have to be so complicated? Just when I think I have everything figured out, everything changes and nothing makes sense. But then again, colts my age really are perverts, and I’m potentially putting myself at risk and…” Her words trailed off in a sigh. 

He waited. 

“I’ve had a few colts show some interest, but I felt like it was a matter of scoring. Nothing about the situation made me feel like I was a keeper, but just a conquest. Everything about school disgusted me, which is why I dropped out and why I signed on.” 

“School,” Sundance said, cutting in, “is a terrible place to form opinions about ponies. Which is a lesson I need to learn myself. In school, I was an unapproachable loser. Got called queer. Was shamed for it. All because I just couldn’t talk to girls. Nothing made sense and everything was confusing. But looking back, I was surrounded by ponies every bit as insecure as I was. At least, I think so.” He took a moment to think, nodded once, and then rubbed his chin with his wing. 

“Canterlot is a city of pretty ponies.” Now, Eventide was looking Sundance in the eye, and not looking away at all. “Maybe some of those colts didn’t feel handsome. Right now, I don’t know if I feel insulted or not about how they saw me. Were they setting their standards low, or was I approachable? Suddenly, school seems a lot more confusing. And gossip, gossip makes everything else worse somehow. I overheard the popular fillies in home-ec talking about how Brass Bounty wanted to fronk me just so he could watch my fat butt jiggle. That absolutely destroyed me. It was all I could think about and it left me feeling like a circus freak.” 

Choosing his words carefully, Sundance responded, “You don’t seem that fat.” 

“I’ve lost a lot of weight since joining the guard. Like, half of me is gone. I think I left her back in the training yard of Canterlot Castle. Prince Gosling has standards for fitness that are totally unreasonable. You know, you’d think that Father Goose is a laid back, easy going sort, but that is a total lie. In the training yard, he’s a monster. Seriously, he’s like the worst. The absolute worst. Never sweated so much in my life. It was so gross.” 

It occured to Sundance that early adulthood was a time of recovery—from the damage caused by school. He could be wrong, and maybe he was; his own experiences were limited and this reduced his perceptions in ways he had trouble conceiving. Still, he could not help but feel that there was some truth to what he felt and thought right now, that as a young adult himself, he was still recovering from the bovine excrement heaped upon him during his school years. 

He glanced over at a bunk bed, thoughtful, and then looked at Eventide once more. She was pretty; now more so because he knew her. Or, at least he knew more about her than he did just ten minutes ago. Knowing her had changed his perceptions about her, it had made her more attractive somehow, which puzzled him. Somehow, knowledge changed his vision, how he saw things with his eyes. 

While he liked strong, physically well-muscled bodies, he found that he quite liked Eventide’s body, though he had trouble understanding why. Perhaps because he understood that it was a work in progress, or maybe for other reasons. But talking to her, getting to know her, this drastically changed how he saw her, and he was left mystified by the change. 

Even though he liked what he saw, he did not act upon his feelings. It was enough to appreciate it for what it was, and to like Eventide for what she was. A pretty, somewhat troubled, socially awkward nerd that existed on the precarious cusp of marehood. Infatuation probably also had an effect upon what he saw, how he perceived things, and while she was desirable in weird ways, she was not irresistible. Overall, Sundance rather liked where he found himself at the moment, and he could not help but feel that he had grown somehow. 

And that his mother would approve of his behaviour. 

“It’s so weird,” Eventide said to Sundance. “I feel like I can talk to you about anything. This has never happened before. I always thought it was just a throw-away line in trashy romance novels, but it’s true. There are ponies that you can talk to about anything. It’s pretty obvious that we’re into each other, and while it might be fun to see what happens, it would also be foolish.” 

He nodded. 

“But it sure would be nice, wouldn’t it?” 

Again, he nodded. 

“I have a duty to my country. To the Gringineers. As much as I’d like to see where this would go, I’m smart enough to see why this won’t work. Any mare that would ditch her duties would make a terrible baroness. Right now, I’m having all kinds of silly, girlish thoughts of things I’d like to do, or be doing, and what do you know, most of them involve you in some way. Including an athletic fitness program, which is really, really weird. I’ve never felt that way about anypony.” 

This time, Sundance did not nod in response, but blushed. 

“Can friendship survive the crush that started it?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, not experienced enough about life to answer. 

“I’d like think that it can,” she said, hopeful. “Never felt like this before. It’d be a real shame to lose touch with the pony who caused it. Though, I suppose this sort of thing happens every day, and ponies do lose touch. Maybe first real crushes don’t matter. But this feels so important. Then again, that might be the nature of crushes.” 

Saddened, though he could not say why, Sundance sighed. 

“There’s only one way this can end, I guess.” Grimacing, her eyes flinty, Eventide rushed forward with incredible, remarkable speed, invaded Sundance’s space in the way that only a soldier could, and stretching out her neck to the point where it popped several times, she planted a quick kiss on the corner of Sundance’s jaw. 

Stunned, he failed to react. 

Before he could recover, she was gone. She slipped out the door with the same speed that she had ambushed him with. He thought about going after her, but then reminded himself that she had departed for a reason. Being alone, together, in the bunkhouse was probably a bad idea, doubly so if the feelings of infatuation progressed into something else. 

Eventide Sparks; a name he would remember. 

And a friend he hoped to keep.
> Be wary of cheaty wizards
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daylight was in short supply. The Canterhorn, far to the west, wasn’t visible at the moment due to clouds and fog and such. A rainstorm had rolled in and now drenched the land between the Sunfire Barony and Canterlot. The sun was slowly sinking down into the clouds as the afternoon progressed, the shadows grew long, and Sundance wished this day would last just a little bit longer. 

It was almost a perfect day. Work was wrapping up. The Royal Family would be visiting so an inspection could be done. Urgency was felt in every passing second, because everypony wanted to make sure that somepony that they idolised was pleased. Never in his life had Sundance ever experienced anything quite like this, this shared sense of purpose. The feeling of unity was palpable, and as strong as it was, he wondered that, if perhaps, it had some sort of magic of its own. 

Even the elderly peasants seemed younger, somehow. They trotted about with vim and vigour, a new spring in their step. Old as they were, they had skills—some of them were actually quite skilled—and they took great pride in teaching the younger generation, ensuring that these skills would be passed on. Something great, something wonderful had been achieved here, and Sundance could not possibly put it into words. 

Sighing, he thought of Eventide. 

Meeting her, talking to her, had filled him with confidence. 

Things didn’t feel quite so impossible as far as the opposite sex went. 



 

The rain seemed to be drifting eastward, towards the barony, and Sundance watched as everypony scrambled to finish for the day. In the distance, the wall of precipitation could be seen, a dull grey nothingness. It didn’t seem to be a feral storm, at least not a violent feral storm, and was more of an incontinent spring shower looking for a place to go. 

Standing atop the rock overlook, Sundance mused upon the weather. 

“Milord, a word with you, if I might.” 

“Earwig… how pleasant to see you. Is all well?” 

“All is well enough, Sire. But we need to talk.” 

“Sure,” he said, somewhat distracted and thinking about the events of the day. 

Earwig moved beside him, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, wither to wither, rather than stand behind him. He understood the significance of this act—in fact, he understood the importance of Earwig coming up here, to this place, the spot where the previous Milord’s tower had once stood. This had been forbidden territory. 

He was glad to have her beside him. 

“We’re in trouble, Milord. At least, I think so. Bad trouble, if something isn’t done.” 

“How so, Earwig? Everything is going so splendidly. What could possibly trouble us?” 

“It’s Stump, Yer Grace. He’s getting old. About an hour ago, he told me that his legs and his back are giving him trouble. We talked about it for a bit. He doesn’t think he can gather the firewood we need for the winter.” 

“We have plenty of time before winter—” 

“No, Milord, we don’t.” Earwig’s expression turned fearful when she realised her interruption, but then she relaxed when Sundance didn’t respond. “We’re going through a lot more wood than usual. Cold spring. For poor Stump, wood gathering starts when it’s warm enough to be outside during the day, and it stops when it’s too cold to be outside because yer nose might freeze off. Stumpy is getting old, Sire… even if he don’t look it. We almost didn’t have enough wood this last winter, and we had to ration it carefully.” 

“Well, just how much wood do we need?” he asked. 

“More than you realise,” was Earwig’s quick response. “I don’t know how to tell you how much wood we need. Whole forests of it. I’m not schooled or learned, Milord, I can’t measure this. Stump is scared though. He knows you won’t banish him, but he don’t feel good about himself right now. He can’t work no harder. His back pains him so.” 

How much wood could they possibly need? How much wood did they burn? They didn’t use coal here, and Sundance found himself wondering just how much wood was needed to heat a small town during the winter. Or even a hamlet. For the first time, he gave serious consideration to resources and how precious they were. In Baltimare, the city was heated with coal, mostly, which fired enormous boilers, which in turn provided steam for radiators. 

He thought of Commander Humblewood’s warning of winter. 

The domes had better insulation than the hovels, but he was not willing to gamble and risk a wood shortage. It was better to have too much, than too little. He saw that Earwig was looking up at him, perhaps studying his face, and maybe trying to gauge his reaction. As his subjects grew older, labour would become more and more of a problem, so it was best to learn how to deal with this now. 

“Tell Stump that he’s been promoted,” Sundance said to Earwig. “A reward for his years of hard work and service.” 

“Promoted?” the confused mare asked. 

“Yes. He is now in charge of our wood supplies. Double Helping and Gothcruz will be his helpers. Double needs some time spent with a saw so he can get good with it, and honestly, I don’t think Gothcruz would slow down with a log or two behind him. Stump’s new job is making sure those two are trained, and that they understand just how much wood we need for the winter.” 

“That’s a good plan, Milord. Stump won’t feel useless. He’ll feel all important, and right now, he’s a bit glum.” Earwig wickered a bit, shuffled, shifting her weight from her right to her left, and then turned her gaze towards the approaching storm. 

“Earwig, how is happiness? With the new houses, I mean. Any discontent I should know about?” Lowering his head, he leaned in a little closer and his brows furrowed as his expression turned stern. “You can tell me anything, Earwig. I’d rather deal with trouble before it happens.” 

“Sire, the new houses are much loved. Far as I know, nopony misses the old ones, and good riddance. I think there’s a feeling of pride going about.” Earwig’s ears rose, fell, rose again, and then pivoted forwards. “Mostly, ponies keep talking about having glass windows. That seems to be all that anypony talks about. Tired of hearing about it, myself, but others love to gab about it.” 

“Glass windows?” 

“Glass windows.” The mare nodded. 

“How does everypony feel about Gothcruz? Is he accepted?” 

Earwig did not respond right away, and her weathered face contorted into a mass of wizened wrinkles. Again, her ears went though the motions, rising, falling, pivoting into different positions, but went still when she finally spoke, saying, “Some think he’s a bit weird. And he is a bit weird. But he is liked. Being a good listener has endeared him to a few. I don’t think anypony actually dislikes him. He’s strong, he works hard, and that’s respected.” 

“Keep me informed,” Sundance said to Earwig in a soft, but insistent voice of command. “If anypony says something that is… not nice, or unpleasant, I wish to know about it. If there is gossip that is less than kind, I should be told of that gossip. Do you understand?” 

“I do, Milord. I’ll do me some eavesdropping as I go about.” 

“Never hesitate to come to me with bad news,” he said to the mare beside him. “If I am to rule effectively, I need to know what is going on, and you, Earwig, you know what is going on. You’re my eyes and ears… both you and your sister. If I’m not here, you’re in charge. I know we talked a bit about this already, and I’m saying more about it now. As I just said though, never hesitate to come to me with news, no matter how bad.” 

“Right, Milord.” Again, the mare offered an earnest nod. 

“Stay with me, Earwig, and let’s watch the storm roll in…” 



 

Rain pounded against the roof and thudded against the tarp covering the open areas of the dining hall. It was a sleepy sound, the rain, and Sundance watched as heads bobbed, nodding off for just a bit before waking with a snort, as equines tended to do. The radio was squelch and static, but left on with the hopes that the signal might improve. 

A few Gringineers lounged about, taking a well-deserved rest. They were energetic, chatty, and some of them were playing cards, with Nuance among their number. Quiet and Corbie played checkers together, and spoke with one another in hushed, well-behaved voices. Of Skyla, there was no sign, and Sundance assumed that she had returned to the ship. 

“—Equestria’s largest cheese has proven to be a fraud, enlargenated by a cheaty wizard—” the radio announced as reception cleared for a few seconds. 

Amber napped with a bandaged owlcoon curled up beside her. Lemongrass was reading, his lips moving as he tried to sound out each and every word. Hollyhock held her newborn, still unnamed, and Sundance could not help but notice how she smiled every time her eyes passed over the owlcoon. Her family had grown a bit, and he was happy for her. 

He had his own residence now. His own sleeping quarters. It was something that he never thought he’d have. Living in the city, the best that anypony could hope for was renting a nice place. It was quite enormous by city-living standards, but it didn’t have a kitchen. Or indoor plumbing, for that matter. This wasn’t a bad thing, really. He lived by the same standards as everypony else here, with the exception that his home might be a bit chillier, a bit draftier come winter. 

“—in other news… Lord of the Sunfire Barony… celebrity champion of the Neo-Feudalism fad sweeping Equestria, or nepotistic hack? Does a far removed bloodline truly make you worthy? What makes a pony—” The transmission ended in a stream of squealing garble. 

A change had come over the room; Sundance felt it, quite keenly, and he became aware of the fact that quite a few ponies were now looking right at him. Some had wide eyes. Others seemed to be waiting, perhaps for some kind of response, a statement of some kind. More than a few seemed angry—dangerously so—the hot-headed anger of youth. 

“Well, that’s enough of that,” a unicorn said as he flicked off the radio. “That’s just… dreck. Absolute and utter dreck.” 

“Watch your language, Private Potty Mouth. There’s foals present.” 

“I don’t know what I’m angrier about,” another said. “Calling Neo-Feudalism a fad, or disrespecting Baron Sundance. I’m pretty steamed about both.” 

“I have half a mind to pay a visit to the radio station that said that,” a pegasus said. 

“You have half a mind period, Private Pinfeather. But if you do go, I’m coming with you.” 

“I hate the very word ‘nepotistic’ a great deal,” Nuance said while making a sour face. 

As more anger could be felt, Sundance glanced around and tried to think of some way to relieve the pressure before this boiled over. The Gringineers, the happy-go-lucky bunch that they were, they were still soldiers in the ways that it mattered. He saw that now, clearly, with all the raised hackles, flinty eyes, and bared teeth. A profound change had even come over Nuance, and the young colt now showed a completely different side of himself, one that left Sundance uncomfortable. 

Rage changed a pony, and not for the better. 

“It’s fine,” Sundance said to everypony around him. “What sort of baron would I be if I didn’t have to prove myself? Because of you, all of you, and your hard work, I have a genuine shot at showing the world that I’m competent. Don’t be angry, be motivated. Make change happen. Make believers out of those that doubt our cause.” 

Neo-Feudalism? Sundance barely even understood what it was, or what it meant. He thought back to his school days, history class, and learning about the various feudalistic contracts that had existed as society progressed, contracts no doubt influenced by Princess Celestia. Equestrian peasants had a level of privilege and protection that was entirely unique in the world—or had when the system worked and wasn’t exploited. 

The Separatists had felt that the peasants had too much power, too much privilege, and sought a return to the old days, that of unicorn rule, and a restoration of absolute power, absolute authority. He flogged his brain, trying to recall his lessons, but very little returned to him, such as the driving political issues of those times. Even though he’d been a good student, he wished that he’d done better. Those lessons from the past would be beneficial now, going forward into the future. 

Focused on Nuance, Sundance knew that the colt had the best education that money could buy, and now seemed like a good time to exploit that a bit. Nuance was calming down; Corbie was stroking him and saying soft words to soothe his sudden anxiety. Even if Nuance had some trouble learning, he was smart, at least when he applied himself. 

“Say, Nuance… what exactly was it that was the final straw for the Separatists? What happened that set Equestria’s Civil War in motion?” 

Much to his surprise, it was not Nuance who answered, but Corbie, and she did so with poise and grace, reciting the facts without hesitation. 

“Elective monarchies. My mother wanted to install a system for elective monarchies. She would present candidates, chosen by her after an extensive and exhaustive vetting process, and then the peasants would hold a moot, a gathering based on ancient earth pony democratic ideals, and the peasants would elect their lifelong ruler from the chosen candidates. The very idea almost tore Equestria in half, and caused several decades of instability as the current ruling nobles were left with uncertain futures. The very idea of giving peasants that much power caused a lot of alarm, and a lot of the nobles began to demand my mother’s abdication.” 

“So that’s the primary cause?” one of the Gringineers asked. 

“Well”—Corbie hugged herself as she began and she drew in a deep breath— “that is one of the primary causes, but there is some debate as to what the final straw actually was. This though, was the biggest threat to the ruling nobles, the ancient houses of yore, and it could be argued that this threatened their survival. My mother was moving directly against them, antagonising them, and showing one way of many of how the world could move on without them being in charge. Some of them were really bad… awful ponies, and their peasants hated them. A system of elective monarchies would mean getting your peasants to like you, somehow, if you wanted to rule. It would have been the end of a great many dynasties. And it was, in a sense. The war happened, and the Separatists lost. Those houses are gone. All gone in a clean sweep.” 

“Why a lifetime appointment though?” an earth pony asked. 

“The longer you do something, the better you get at it,” Corbie was quick to reply. “The first year a mayor is in office is spent learning how to do the job. And then once they get good at their job, there’s a chance that they might be voted out. This is a huge waste of time and resources. Which is why Canterlot has a Lord Mayor… my father. He believes that the big cities suffer the way they do, at least in part, because of the constantly shifting political power and the inherent instability caused by the current implementation of democratic processes. It might be time to try something new.” 

“So, we’re back to the process of elective monarchy, then?” the earth pony said, his muzzle crinkled in concentration. “Or do we just bypass that all together and put somepony in charge that is fit to do the job? Like uh, what’s that called? Meritocracy?” 

“Well, there’s Sundance,” said Corbie while she pointed in his direction with her hoof. “He was offered the job and accepted. For now, things feel like a transition, but I think my mother is ready to spring her idea of elective monarchies on the world again. At least, once the baronies get established. I don’t know what is going to happen, but she and my father talk about it a lot, trying to sort out what worked well in the past and adapting it to work in the future. I like to listen, because it makes the fact that I pay attention to my history lessons feel important.” 

In silence, Sundance tried to sort out how all of this applied to him. 

“You get it from our father, you know,” Nuance said to his sister. “His love of history is something that he and I don’t share. Sometimes, I don’t feel like we have much in common. It’s… hard to relate to him, at times.” 

“Aw…” After swiftly crossing the distance between them, Corbie reached out with her hoof and booped her brother on his snoot. 

His face darkened; from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell. The colt was still for a moment, and then, he smiled. Corbie seemed surprised by this, Sundance saw her expression, and then surprise transitioned into joy. Watching this as it happened, Sundance got the feeling that this was not Nuance’s typical reaction, but change happened. Overcome, perhaps overjoyed, Corbie hurled herself at her brother and then began squeezing him. 

“What is it with pegasus ponies?” These words, squeezed out of Nuance, came out as a groan. “Why all of this when a simple exchange of pleasantries would do?” 

Quiet chortled, amused by Nuance’s misfortune, but did nothing to save him.
> Arrival of the Sun
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything had to be perfect. A group of unicorns worked in the cold grey hour just before dawn, finishing up the final project. The gatehouse was covered from almost top to bottom with sayings, quotes, and even epigrammatic essays. Beyond the gatehouse, a massive pavilion was now being erected, as well as an outdoor kitchen. A transformed barony awaited inspection, and so did its baron. 

Standing atop the belltower, Sundance watched the final preparations, and kept one eye on the faint suggestion of light to the east. Even the bell was now finished; a basic construction, nothing fancy, just a massive steel cylinder with a simple clapper inside. It was not a beautiful sound, the bell was not made with perfect pitch and tone in mind, but it was a distinctive sound that would adequately alert everypony. 

A number of owls roosted in the belltower, including Owlister. The owlet would not be an owlet much longer, but was rapidly approaching whatever passed for owl maturity and self-sufficiency. Sundance felt sorry for the owls who roosted here, as surely the ringing of the bell would startle them.

He had an excellent view of everything from way up here, both the inside and the outside of his makeshift keep. Paradox’s home, like his own, was finished. Grandmother Oak had been turned into quite a dwelling, a suitably impressive home fit for any wizard. The wood seemed to have new life in it now that construction was finished. 

More owls roosted in the belltower, fleeing the coming dawn, while others took shelter in other nooks and crannies provided by the gatehouse. Sundance didn’t mind; far from it, as this was their home just as much as it was his. One owl cut loose with a blood curdling scream, and the call was answered by another, and then another. Some ponies used roosters as alarm clocks, but here in the Sunfire Barony, the Greater Equestrian Screaming Owls functioned as the heralds of dawn. 

“Bloody owls!” somepony down below shouted. 

“The Royals are coming,” Sundance said to any owl that might be listening. 

“Who?” one owl replied. 

Sundance smiled; he couldn’t help himself. No matter what public image he projected, he wasn’t nearly as mature as he made himself out to be, and he indulged in these secret moments of foalish amusement whenever he thought he could get away with it. Grinning now, pleased with his immature cleverness, he stretched his wings so that he might get his blood pumping. It was cold—not freezing, but quite chilly. 

A light was on in Corduroy’s infirmary, as evidenced by the well-lit window. His nurse was a busy sort, so much so that he worried if she was getting enough sleep. Like him, she was an early riser, but she also went to bed quite late. During the quiet hours of the night, when others were asleep and there were few distractions, Corduroy was at her most industrious, brewing potions, processing salves, and creating balms. 

An old grizzled owl made a clumsy landing, almost crashing, and there were a great many hoots and screams as the younger owls scrambled to get out of the way. The wise old fellow was enormous, battle-scarred, and missing a toe. After a moment of rest and recovery upon the railing, the ancient hooter spread his wings, flapped, and ascended to his rightful place of honour, the support beam that held up the bell. Casting an imperious gaze upon his fellows, the old cranky elder settled down, twisted his head around backwards, and closed his eyes. 

Off to the east, the first golden ray of dawn pierced the heavens, and Sundance turned to watch. 



 

“All this bodes well for disaster-preparedness,” Berry Briar said as she folded her wings against her sides. “Even with the greenest of green recruits, recruits with little to no training, we got a lot done. Feels like we got lucky and ended up with a skilled batch of workers.” 

“Mmm-hmm.” Commander Humblewood nodded, but had nothing to say. 

“These are great kids,” Berry Briar continued, this time in a somewhat lower voice, one with more than a little emotion in it. “Passionate kids. Not so much apathy in this batch. I think that, now that the Gringineers are becoming established, now that everypony can see for themselves what we can do, what we are capable of, I think we’ll see more eager, starry-eyed idealists in our ranks. What that means to our future, I don’t know.” 

“There were problems with the previous recruits?” asked Sundance. 

“Some.” Commander Humblewood’s eyebrow lifted a bit, and his ears turned in the direction of the pavilion under construction. 

“A lot of judges sentenced ‘troubled youth’ to enlist as an alternative to juvenile work farms. For a time, there was the public perception that this was a form of punishment, community service for hooligans, malcontents, and miscreants. It was a struggle to push past all that. Prince Gosling and Princess Twilight Sparkle constantly had to challenge public perceptions and defend what was being done, and why it was being done. Princess Twilight in particular kept insisting that this was not a punitive community service branch of the Royal Guard. It was a hard fight to get where we are now, and both Gosling and Twilight spent a lot of time in the community relations trenches.” Berry Briar smiled, but it was a hard smile—perhaps a killer’s smile. 

It was startling sometimes, to remember that the pink pegasus was a hardened soldier. 

“If we have another Manehattan-level incident, if one of our cities gets knocked down, we’ll be able to rapidly recover,” Commander Humblewood muttered, distracted by the construction down below. 

“Thank you. Thank you for everything. There are no words to express my gratitude.” Sundance glanced at Commander Humblewood, and then his eyes darted over to Berry Briar. “I feel extraordinarily lucky to have received aid, and I am grateful. If it is the last thing I do, I will prove myself worthy of this assistance.” 

“Good,” Berry Briar replied as she wrapped one wing around Sundance’s neck and pulled him closer. “You won’t mind then if we show up next spring with a fresh batch of green recruits!” 



 

“Princess Celestia is coming.” Paradox Sunflower’s voice was shrill with panic. “Headmistress Celestia is coming and SHE IS GOING TO EVALUATE AND GRADE MY PERFORMANCE!” 

Before Sundance could offer a word of encouragement, a soothing pep-talk of reassurance, Paradox took off at a gallop and the fusionista moved with terrific speed that defied her scrawny nerdiness. After a moment, Sundance looked up at Corduroy, and saw his nurse looking down at him. Together, they shared a silent exchange, a knowing glance between the two of them. The diamond dog nodded, so did Sundance, and then Corduroy shrugged. 

“She’s a bit high strung,” Corduroy said at last. 

“That she is,” Sundance agreed. 

“Soon, all of this will be over, and everything will be boring again.” 

“Corduroy, when you put it that way, I don’t want this to end.” 

“We still need to do something about the drudgery,” the nurse said while her jowls sagged into something that almost resembled a frown. “Express Delivery is over-grooming and over-preening herself. If this keeps up, she’ll pluck herself bald, I think.” 

Twisting his head about in a decidedly owlish manner, Sundance had a look at his own wings. The idea of preening himself bald alarmed him, no pegasus pony wanted to think about that, and after contemplating his own pretty pegasus plumage, he looked up at his nurse with a scowl of concern. 

“What do we do about the Silent Menace?” he asked. 

“Sundance, I don’t know, but as the barony’s nurse, I would say this constitutes a health crisis. Recreation and leisure are of utmost importance for both physical and mental health. We’ll need to think of clever solutions, hopefully before this becomes a serious problem.” 



 

The rogue wind wreaked havoc upon the pavillion, the outdoor kitchen, and the pristine white tablecloths laid out upon the tables. Skyla flitted about, trying to secure the pavillion, but was tossed about by the gusts, which played rough. She was determined though, and stuck with her task, even though it proved quite difficult. 

It wasn’t a storm, the skies were quite clear, but the wind proved to be a worthy foe. A small herd stampeded about, going to and fro, trying to pin down and secure the tablecloths, while another group tried to keep the kitchen from collapsing. It was just enough of a crisis to be interesting, to be exciting, but not enough to panic over and abandon all plans. 

Work on the gatehouse was not yet finished. Unicorns were still engraving teeny, tiny words into the stone, a lasting monument, a testament for those passing through the gate to read. A group of earth ponies were planting flowers around the newly renovated dining hall, which was now considerably larger, insulated, and far more comfortable. Yet another group erected makeshift wooden fences made from leftover scrap around the flowerbeds, a last minute push for a bit more beautification. 

A bandaged owlcoon lazed about under the morning sun, watched over by an anxious Lemongrass. 

“Incoming!” a guard shouted, his voice amplified by the ship’s public announcement system. “Royal yacht incoming!” 

Facing himself westward, Sundance squinted at the distant horizon. He couldn’t see anything, but kept trying anyhow. Time was short now, and with each passing second, the royal yacht drew closer. These last-minute tasks had to be finished, and soon. The wind whipped his mane about and it occurred to Sundance that he’d done nothing to make himself presentable. 

He hoped that one of the new showers was free. 



 

As it turned out, the royal yacht didn’t look much like a yacht at all. It looked more like a modified warship than anything else, one of the sleek new nacelle-less designs that had internal buoyancy systems secreted beneath the hull. Beautiful in a terrible way, it was rather fish-shaped, and elegantly streamlined. The new nacelle-less ship designs had no deck, no flat place for pegasus ponies or fliers to land, just armor and guns aplenty. 

A small fleet acted as escorts, ships that Sundance could not recognise, could not name. He did not know their type, other than a few were small, some were medium sized, and two of them were large enough to be scary, though not as big as the Gringineer’s ship. Now they all floated in formation with the Gringineer ship, defying gravity in their own odd way. 

The royal foals had been collected and hauled aboard. 

Immortal Solars were on the ground now, with some taking up positions around the gatehouse, or on the walk above the gatehouse, and one stood in the belltower, surrounded by owls. They stood unmoving, silent, statues made of flesh encased in ornate armor. Sundance wondered if Olive was among their ranks, or if she was someplace else. He hadn’t seen much of her lately, probably because she was doing her job, plus the fact that her altered appearance made her hard to spot. 

A pegasus wearing golden armor landed near Sundance, saluted once, and then said, “Your company is requested. Please, follow me.” 

Seeing as he had no other choice in the matter, Sundance nodded. 



 

The interiour of the ship was oddly hive-like in appearance and structure, with curved, rounded walls and hallways that were more than a little cramped. Everything was made of shiny, highly reflective steel, and he saw his reflection staring back at him from every available surface. Sundance wondered how Princess Celestia managed to even fit in here. Why, she would have to walk with her head low to the floor, and probably with her knees bent. Each of the bulkheads had a round, circular doorway that was not at all ideal for a pony to pass though, much less an alicorn. 

Sundance decided that the Royal Navy was not for him; this ship was far too cramped. 

Below the floor, a metal grid, pipes and conduits could be seen, the arteries of the ship. Sundance couldn’t even begin to conceive what they were for, what purpose they served, or why they might need easy access—which seemed to be the case, considering the metal grid. The only lights to be found were also below the steel grid, lamps that had a fierce red glow and bathed everything in a crimson tint. 

“This ship seems just a bit cramped,” Sundance said to his escort, who lead him along. 

“By design,” the guard replied, grunting out the words. “It doubles as a submarine in the event that the family needs to be hid. Magic scrying doesn’t work through thick stone or deep water.” 

“Should you be telling me that?” 

“I don’t see why not. You’re one of the ponies to be evacuated during a time of crisis, should the need arise. Ah, we’re here. Right through this door, if you please.”
> Wowa
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ozone tickled Sundance’s nose. Standing in the round doorway, he suffered an awkward entrance to the cramped, crowded room, and felt dreadfully out of place, having just walked in on what appeared to be a private family moment. The room was long, narrow, and the far wall was curved in an odd way that didn’t leave much head room. Furniture that could only be described as opulent stood out in sharp contrast against the steel floor and walls. 

Princess Celestia lay on something that seemed to be half bed, half couch. She lay on her stomach, with her head held high, and her forelegs crossed over one another in front of her. Radiance sat on her right, while Nuance lounged to her left, with his head resting upon her withers. The trio almost seemed to be colour-coded, each of them a complimentary shade that looked splendid together. 

Prince Gosling sat upon a tasseled cushion that rested upon the floor. He was far too large for this room, or perhaps this room was far too small for him. Joining him on his cushion were Corbie and Quiet. This trio was also complementary to one another, all dark shades, greys, silvers, and sooty, charcoally blacks. Though sitting on the floor, Prince Gosling’s horn almost touched the ceiling. 

As for Princess Luna, the rather sleepy looking mare lounged in a hammock, and she was not alone, as the hammock was full to bursting with company. Somehow, Skyla had squeezed in, and her pale pink pelt stood out in sharp contrast against Princess Luna’s midnight blue. Hailstone was doing her best fish-in-a-net impression, with her muzzle poking through the woven hammock cords. A bundle of blankets suggested that Steadfast was with his mother. 

Looking down though, Sundance saw a small unicorn filly looking up at him. She was of striking beauty, a dark, dusky, almost sooty shade of blue, with a mane and tail that appeared spun from the purest silver. Her eyes were like electric blue opals and her horn was unusually pointy—dangerously so, no doubt. 

“Hewwo,” she said while touching Sundance’s fetlock. 

“Hi,” he replied. “Who are you?” 

“Wowa,” she said, matter-of-factly while looking up with keen interest. 

“That,” Princess Luna said in a sleepy voice, “is my daughter, Aurora Australis.” 

“Mama says my magic fwequency makes me a Wawamoon. I wanna be a Wawamoon. Wastwawis is a siwwy name.” 

Still looking down, Sundance was suddenly quite afraid of the tiny filly looking up at him. There was something about her, some terrifying aura of raw power that she radiated, which stood out in sharp contrast with how she spoke, which was endearing and charming. Her gaze was almost mesmerising, hypnotic in some weird way, and he wondered how much of her mother’s magic she had inherited. 

Prince Gosling wore a bemused, proud expression. 

“Wanna pway house wif me?” she asked. 

Before Sundance could respond, the room grew very large, and Aurora now loomed over him, a colossus, a giant with an unsettling grin. He blinked, trying to understand what had just happened, but failed to grasp what had just taken place. Princess Luna seemed to be a bit concerned now, her sleepy expression now included furrowed brows, and Sundance tried to make sense of the fact that he was in a room of actual giants, beings of immense proportions. 

“Aurora, what have we told you,” Prince Gosling said, his words stern and fatherly. “Ponies are not toys. He is not a doll. Now put him back.” 

“But I don’t wanna—” 

“Put him back.” Princess Celestia’s words carried with them a firm maternal threat. 

“Aww… poop.” 

Quite suddenly, jarringly so, Sundance was big again, but he couldn’t tell if he was right size, which was quite disorienting. Was he bigger or smaller than what he’d been when he’d entered this room? It was impossible to tell. Aurora was looking up at him, her eyes eager, playful, and more than a little prankish. 

“Apologise,” her mother commanded. 

“But I don’t—” 

“Apologise.” This time, the Princess of the Night’s command left no room for argument. 

“Sowwy.” Aurora hung her head, kicked her front hooves together, and then she let out an exasperated sigh. “Stupid gwownups, won’t wet me have no fun. Poopoo doody-heads!” Her horn flashed with a brilliant silvery blue light and she became a stuffed toy version of herself, which flopped over on the floor and did not move. 

“Aurora—” 

“Luna, let her pout.” Prince Gosling turned to look at the mare in the hammock. “At least she’s exhausting her magic by doing this. Maybe we can finally get her to sleep—” 

“Nein!” the stuffed toy on the floor shouted in defiance. 

Somehow, Princess Celestia, Prince Gosling, and Princess Luna managed an exceedingly rare synchronised parental eye roll, and Sundance, having witnessed this rare occurrence, stood in slack-jawed awe. Hailstone started to chortle, but a squinty glare from her father silenced her right away. Nuance was far, far braver though, and chuckled in open defiance of his mother’s disapproval, which came in the form of a low, throaty growl. 

Quiet, whose monstrous smile revealed terrible, terrific teeth, waved in Aurora’s direction and said, “She once turned Twilight into a wooden rocking pony. It took Twilight a while to undo the spell. While Twilight was stuck as a toy, Spike started to lecture the way he does and he got turned into a pony, which didn’t agree with him… at all.” 

“Quiet, please—”

Ignoring Prince Gosling, she continued, “Sundance, you got off easy.” 

“Huh,” he muttered, unsure of what to say about all of this. 

“Wanna be a dwagon?” Aurora asked. 

To which every adult in the room, including Sundance, replied in unison, “NO!” 



 

“I do apologise for my daughter’s behaviour.” 

Sundance, now sitting on a cushion, wasn’t sure how to respond to Princess Luna, who insisted that she be called Luna, and nothing else. Getting an apology from a princess felt off somehow, and he couldn’t help but have the feeling that he should be apologising to her, for some unknown, inexplicable reason. 

The stuffed toy on the floor was remarkably silent; perhaps she was sleeping. 

“We wanted a little family time with you, before the festivities began,” Princess Celestia said while looking down at her son, Nuance. “I wanted to thank you for keeping what is dear to me safe.” 

“Oh, the guards did that,” Sundance was quick to reply. He hesitated, uncertain if he wanted to say what was on his mind, right now, at this very moment. Unsure of himself, he thought of the radio broadcast, the reaction to said radio broadcast, and he felt a pang of lingering doubt as he struggled with speaking his mind. 

“Corbie has the most delightful, most wonderful cutie mark. As her mother, I am proud.” 

Distracted by his own thoughts, Sundance barely heard what Princess Celestia had to say. His eyes glanced around the room, meeting a few eyes, and then he looked down at the steel floor, which seemed unnaturally clean; no hair, no feathers, nothing but cold, clean steel. Hailstone caught his attention, and it occurred to him that she’d have waffle pattern pressed into her body from the hammock when—and if—she ever climbed out. She didn’t seem to mind that she was completely and utterly smooshed by her mother and Skyla. 

Steadfast was incapable of smooshing anything. 

“You know”—he licked his dry lips, which felt as though they might crack—“any number of ponies could trace their bloodline back to you. Why me? Why recognise me as family? I don’t get it. There is nothing special about me, other than I try to do good. I have a sense of duty, sure, but my mother has that too. If anything, her sense of duty is stronger than mine. She patrols the streets day after day, doing a thankless job that she doesn’t get paid enough for. What I’m trying to say is, I don’t understand why I’m here.” 

Princess Celestia’s sudden sigh filled the cabin with a minor windstorm that made several manes go whipping about, including Sundance’s. She seemed put off by this, and he was terrified that he’d offended her somehow. Frowning, he wished that he hadn’t said anything, and he became aware of the fact that Radiance was staring at him with an unreadable expression. What was the colt thinking? Was he irked that his mother was upset? 

“It helps me with my own insecurities,” the white mare replied. 

“I don’t understand,” Sundance said to his distant grandmother. 

“Where do I begin?” 

Celestia—yes, she was Celestia now, her princessly poise had abandoned her. Sundance’s growing discomfort caused him to squirm, and he grew mighty uncomfortable with how his grandmother was looking at him. So this had more to do with her, than himself? How? He found himself longing to understand, and ears pricked, his pegasus body posture showed that he was intent on listening. 

“I had a student… an apprentice,” she began and her eyes grew distant. “A not so distant cousin of yours, actually. You come from a line of Shimmers, Sundance. Your mother is Sunbeam Shimmer, and her mother is Noonfire Shimmer. Well, I had a student, an apprentice that I failed to make a proper connection with. I treated her as I would a student, which, looking back, might have been a mistake. She might have needed family. Something more than the student-teacher relationship had to offer. There was so much potential there. Still is, actually.” 

The big mare sighed once more. 

“That’s the real tragedy of being an immortal. You live long enough that your mistakes come back to haunt you. This… this was not the first time I made this mistake. Due to things that have happened in the past, I kept family at a distance. I did not wish to suffer the pain of betrayal. In doing so, my behaviour, my actions, might have very well planted more seeds of betrayal, an act of self-sabotage, if you will. My student that I mentioned, and others like her, things might have gone differently if I had treated them as family. If I had reached out to them and nurtured their potential. Had I done more, a great many things that I regret might have turned out differently.” 

In silence, Sundance tried to comprehend how all of this applied to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luna, and like her sister, all of her princessly poise was gone. Pain was plainly visible on her face, and dark storm clouds could be seen in her eyes. As a pegasus, he saw the lurking storm and shivered, aware of the potential fury it could bring. 

“Far too often, my own worst enemies have been my distant progeny.” 

Ears drooping, Sundance wished that he was smarter; he wished that he had the sort of mind that would allow him to say all of the right things that would make this better somehow. Mindful of his body language, he made his ears rise, because it was important to show that he was listening. 

“But,” he said, finding his words at last, “many of us are your distant progeny. Most of Equestria. Why recognise me? What makes me special?” 

“You did the work to establish the connection,” Celestia was quick to reply. “You showed remarkable potential. Legal issues, genealogy, recordkeeping, history, civic sciences, you dabbled in everything, fields that most ponies go to college or university for, and you showed competence in each and every one of these things. To be quite honest, I still do not fully comprehend your motivations. To endure such an endeavour, and to honestly and sincerely want nothing in return. I saw potential. Should any of my other grandfoals put in the work and approach me under similar circumstances, I should like to think that I would recognise them as well. Equestria needs assets… and I need family members that I can trust.” 

Gulping in a little needed air, Sundance tried not to think of the eyes that he could feel on him. Celestia was baring her soul; more than that, she was doing so in front of her own offspring—offspring who would one day have families of their own, and hundreds of years from now, those distant descendents might one day approach Celestia, hoping to say hello. 

“Baltimare is not so different than Manehattan.” As Celestia spoke, her gaze fell upon Gosling, who was stroking Corbie with his wing. “It is a place bereft of hope. What sense of future does it have? You, Sundance, from what little I’ve been able to gather, sought out your past because you could see no future for yourself. Forgive the intrusion, but my sister has spent much time in your dreams, trying to understand your motivations, so that we might help one another better.” 

Sundance turned his attention on Luna, but her face was now deadpan, expressionless. 

“You seem to know me better than I know myself,” he said. 

His words caused the corner of Luna’s mouth to rise into a good-natured smirk, and something about her reaction made him feel better. How it made things better, he could not say, but he felt a little more self-assured and a little less doubtful. It was true; he often didn’t understand his own motivations, in much the same way he didn’t understand his own mark. He just sort of existed, going from one experience to the next, riding on the unseen, unfathomable currents of life. 

“I never fully understood what motivated me to do this,” he said at last, saying what was on his mind as well as in his heart. “It was a compulsion. At least, it started out that way. I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, it became an escape. I could exist on the dreary, dirty, disgusting streets of Baltimare, or I could be reading about a time when my family were lords and ladies. When we’d been landowners, and we had something. We had houses… actual houses… and not rat-infested apartments in some crime-ridden neighborhood. The escape became necessary for my sanity.” 

Tears stung his eyes, and he paused whilst he tried to blink them away. 

“I was angry and I hated everything, though I was too passive to show it. School was a bad experience for me. I didn’t fit in and I didn’t have a lot of friends. At some point, I grew up enough to understand what sort of life awaited me, and it… just… crushed me. That left me suicidal for quite some time, but I was too cowardly to kill myself. So I did really dangerous things, hoping that I would get myself killed. You know, by accident. But the project saved me. No matter how bleak things became, or how oppressive everything felt, I had the project. It kept me alive. The work was all I had. To be honest, I had no plans of what to do with my life when it was completed, and I didn’t want to finish it because of that.” 

Turning his head, he looked his grandmother in the eye. 

“I didn’t ask you for anything because I couldn’t see a life beyond my project.” 

Radiance sighed, a forlorn, sympathetic sound. A moment later, Nuance sniffled. Corbie clung to her father’s leg, her cheek pressed tight against him, which left her glasses crooked. Quiet was rather Luna-esque in some odd way, if Luna had somehow been born a sphinx, and she wore an unfathomable deadpan expression that offered no insight into whatever she might be feeling or thinking. Hailstone looked absolutely miserable, and her stubby wings—pinned against her sides—fidgeted. As for Skyla, she appeared subdued, but thoughtful. 

Sundance couldn’t help but feel that these foals might be getting a glimpse into their own distant futures, the offspring of their offspring struggling to survive and to have meaning in their lives. It was a profound bit of introspection, and he grappled with his thoughts, wondering if they came from intelligence or wisdom. How might this humble them? Would it leave them bitter? Or maybe hopeful? Somehow, through means he could barely comprehend, Sundance had crossed the generational divide that had sprung up between him and his distant grandmother. 

Through fortuitous circumstance, he was now among the lords and ladies that existed in the books that were his escape. Though the books painted a much better picture of a much nicer life, a fantastic life of wealth and privilege. The books never mentioned crippling debt and outright servitude. He was little more than a slave to his barony, and the books, his escape, had no stories like this within them. 

A shuddering sigh escaped him. 

“When you look into my dreams,” he asked of Luna, “what do you see? Can you tell me? Will you help me?” 

“I can,” she replied, “and I will.” Luna yawned, which proved contagious, and once she had herself sorted out, she was true to her word. “When I look into your dreams, I see a pony that has abandoned selfishness. You’ve lived in desperation long enough that your sense of self is greatly diminished. Is this good or bad? Who can say. It depends on what you chose to do with yourself.” 

The answer flummoxed him, and he could not even begin to understand what had just been said. Abandoned selfishness? Was this another way of saying that he had stopped caring about life? What did this mean, exactly? Was his sense of self damaged? What did she mean by diminished? Brows furrowing, Sundance tuned out everything around him while he tried to make sense of what had been said. 

“Will you allow yourself to be overcome with greed?” Luna asked. “Does power appeal to you? Or will these things remain dormant? You now exist in a precarious position. Little by little, you awaken, you grow, very much like a sunflower reaching for the sun. Now that you’ve sprouted, how shall you grow? Will you remain content to be one sunflower among many, or will you rise above your fellows, hoping to reduce them in your shade? You’ve been given sun, water, and fertile soil. What will you do with it, I wonder?” 

“I… don’t know.” For Sundance, this was the only answer that felt honest. 

“There is no harm in that,” Luna replied. 

“There isn’t?” He raised his head and dared to hope. 

“Have you learned nothing from your time with the Gringineers?” asked Luna. She tilted her head to one side, and her eyes glittered with keen intelligence. “We sent them here for your benefit. Not just to build homes and to resurrect the barony, but so that you might learn from those whose circumstances are similar to your own. Like you, they are sunflowers. Precious things. Like you, we’ve given them sun, rain, and fertile soil. We are farmers, of a sort… perhaps Gosling most of all. We’ve sheltered these little sunflowers, and given them the resources they need to grow. What do you have in common with them, Sundance?” 

Biting his lip, Sundance avoided saying, “I don’t know.” because he did know. Even if he couldn’t put it all into words at the moment, he thought of his recent experiences, and the ponies he had met. He thought of Applebutter. Private Applebutter. Stenmar came to mind, and their discussion about passions, which became a talk about foundations. Fluffernutter, who wanted to do something that mattered, because something, anything, had to be done. And then there was his time spent with Skyla, Corbie, Nuance and Quiet. 

Overall, he had learned much from this experience, and had accomplished a bit of self-discovery. He noticed that Skyla was staring at him with a sort of knowing expression upon her face. Luna too, had a remarkably similar expression, and there was a sort of family resemblance between the two that could not be denied. 

A hot, ferocious blush crept up his neck and seared his cheeks as he thought of Eventide. They had learned much from each other. All too aware of the fact that he was blushing, he banished these thoughts so that he could bring himself under control. Luna probably knew—she had to know, it was her business to know, and she had to know that he’d done what he hoped was the right thing. At least she was kind enough to say nothing about it. 

When he turned to look at Celestia, he saw her staring back at him with a raised eyebrow. Almost guilty, he turned away, unable to bear her gaze. Did she know? Was she okay with it? Perhaps he was making a mountain out of a molehill. He made the mistake of looking right at Gosling, and thought of what Eventide had said about him. It was a mistake to look at anypony right now, so he cast his gaze to the floor and left it there. 

“Who’s ready for lunch?” Celestia asked. “I know I am.” 

“I want something deep fried, then drenched with caramel and chocolate,” Luna replied. 

“Mama, no.” Hailstone squirmed against her mother, but all her wiggling was to no avail. “That’ll make your butt-butt big.” 

“You made my butt big, but I still had you,” Luna said in a voice made lively with mirth. 

“Mama… awful. Besides, that was Daddy’s fault. I heard you say it.”

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” Gosling demanded. 

“She’s not wrong,” Luna said in Hailstone’s defense. 

Sundance could feel things escalating, and he could not help but smile. 

“Let us go make our anticipated appearance,” Celestia said. “Smiling faces, everpony. Happy, smiling faces. Public appearance faces. Radiance, big smile. Nuance, no smirking. Corbie… I never have to worry about you. Luna, will you rouse yourself?” 

“We shall see,” was the sleepy blue alicorn’s response. 

“Aurora is out like a light, I think.” Gosling looked down at the floor, where the stuffed animal that was his daughter lay perfectly still. “What do we do with her?” 

“I suggest the dungeon, it would be for the best—” 

“Nuance, why I oughta… I don’t want no unicorn rivalries between you and your sister!” 

“Well then, you shouldn’t have made my sister.” 

Alarmed, Sundance realised that this wasn’t a joke. Disturbed, he witnessed a silent contest of wills between father and son, and was relieved when Celestia covered Nuance’s face with her wing, ending the staring contest before it became something far more serious. Clearing her throat, the big mare cast a warning glance at her husband, clucked her tongue, and shook her head. 

“No squabbling. Today, we put our differences aside. Nuance, I’m incredibly proud of what you’ve accomplished. I am proud of you. Please, don’t ruin that. Please?” Then, swivelling her head around, she focused her piercing stare on Radiance. “Not a word from you. If you say whatever snarky thing it is that you are thinking right now, I will have you confined to quarters. Got me?” 

Radiance, fearless, stared up at his mother without blinking. 

“Let me put this another way.” Celestia’s tone was cool and measured. “Not only will you be confined to quarters, but you will get a drastic dressing down. A public one. In front of the soldiery. Do you understand?” 

Flinching, Radiance turned away, nodded, and mumbled, “Yes Ma’am.” 

“Now”—Celestia held her head high —“while the glue holds, let us go have lunch.”
> Sunflowers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Paradox!” 

At the sound of her name, the young mare froze in place, and Sundance saw what might have been panic in her eyes. Princess Celestia moved with smooth grace and before poor Paradox could protest, the big mare wrapped her wings around the smaller young mare and hugged her. Sundance could sense that there was history here, another one of Princess Celestia’s ‘projects’ perhaps. Princess Celestia’s affection was evident for all to see, and after almost smothering the stammering young mare, the princess pulled back and allowed the frazzled unicorn a chance to recover. 

“How are your studies, Paradox?” 

“I’ve been busy… so busy. Haven’t had time. Fallen behind—” 

“Paradox… take a deep breath. Come on. Deep breaths. Be calm. I sent you here to get you away from your studies. There is more to life than books. How does it feel, having duties?” 

“It feels great!” Paradox blurted out. “Being needed… it’s all I’ve ever wanted, but I didn’t know I wanted it. I like having a routine… keeping the fires lit and acting as the community wizard, it is immensely gratifying. Satisfying? You were right about everything. Well, maybe not everything, this place is the source of all my mother’s problems, and I think about that a lot, but I also think about fixing this place so that what happened to her never happens again. It’s kinda… empowering? But it also leaves me feeling scared and insecure.” 

“Paradox, dear, remember to breathe.” 

“Breathing is hard, I forget sometimes.” 

“I know.” A soft, reassuring smile could now be seen on Princess Celestia’s muzzle. 

“Headmistress, I have an amazing house! Will you come and see it?” 

“Of course. When I do my inspection, I shall have a look at your house, Paradox.” 

“Fantastic!” 

“Canterlot has been rather dull without your explosions, Paradox.” The graceful behemoth drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out in a slow, steady huff, perhaps as an example for the flustered young mare that had trouble remembering to breathe. Making gestures with her wings, she did it again, a slow, deliberate act, all while lowering her head to look Paradox in the eye. 

“Remember, Paradox… you have all the time you need for your studies. It isn’t a race. There’s no need to hurry. Perform your duties. Once things have gone back to normal here, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time for your studies. I’m counting on you and your breakthroughs. Equestria needs your knowledge, dear one.” 

“Thank you, Headmistress.” Paradox bowed her head, but Princess Celestia placed one wing under her chin. “It means a lot that you believe in my work. Everypony else thinks I’m a crackpot. Or that I’m wasting my potential studying something that isn’t magic. I get down in the dumps, sometimes.” 

“I know, Paradox.” 

“You’re the best.” 

“Come, sit with us. I think we can squeeze you in at our table. Luna will want to speak with you and catch up.” 

“I’d like that… I miss my equinities teacher...” 



 

Lunch, it seemed, would take a while longer. Sundance, who was nervous for reasons he could not fathom, couldn’t keep up with everything going on around him. Paradox and Princess Luna were discussing plays, music, concerts, and artsy stuff—a subject that he realised he knew very little about. Princess Celestia was mostly quiet, listening to Commander Humblewood’s rather terse report. The older foals had scattered for the time being, because they wanted to play rather than listen to boring adult conversation, and who could blame them? 

Hailstone meanwhile, kept watch over her slumbering siblings, Steadfast and Aurora. 

Prince Gosling was chatting with his assistants, Beans and Toast, two of the stuffiest, most uptight, starchiest ponies that Sundance had ever met. They were planning something, but Sundance wasn’t paying enough attention to the conversation to determine what it was. Whatever it was, it was terrifically boring, and it might have had something to do with taxes. 

There was a light tap on his withers, a soft touch, and then the unicorn beside him said, “We’ve been introduced, but we really haven’t met. I’m Moon Rose, Luna’s apprentice.” 

Sundance found himself inexplicably tongue-tied. 

“You seem nervous,” Moon Rose said while she withdrew her hoof from Sundance’s withers. “Forgive me for stating the obvious. I tend to do that.” 

The young mare beside him leaned in close, which caused Sundance’s pulse to quicken. It wasn’t that he found her attractive, but rather, that he was overwhelmed. Though, she was pretty in some vague, undefined way. She was young-ish, though he couldn’t determine her exact age. Something about her made him think of Eventide, and this caused him to squirm. 

“You don’t know me, but I know you. I’ve seen your dreams. Been cataloguing your various interests as a project lesson. Mistress Luna wants a detailed profile of you.” 

These words made Sundance’s breath catch in his throat, and there was a deep, gruff squeak. 

“That… that didn’t go as planned. I’m no good at the small talk stuff, or striking up a conversation. The more I dabble into dreams, the harder it becomes for me to handle the waking world. When I was a filly, why, I could talk somepony’s ear off. Well, once I got over my initial shyness. But now… everything is weird now, because I know what’s inside ponies’ heads.” 

“Is there anything disturbing about me that I might not be aware of?” he dared ask. 

“You sure do dream an awful lot about sunflowers,” she replied. 

Breathing became a little easier for Sundance. 

“We’re pioneering new fields of psychology,” Moon Rose said in a dry, scholarly manner. “Mistress Luna works with Princess Cadance and together, the two of them work to understand the mind. If we understand how ponies think, then we can do more to help them. To heal them. We can take broken minds and make them better.” 

This sounded somewhat interesting… 

“So,” he asked, “is there a ‘type’ for nobles? I mean, can you look into a pony’s mind and determine if they’d make a good baron, or baroness? Or lord or lady?” 

“Well…” Moon Rose batted her eyelashes and a disturbing smile slowly spread over her muzzle. “Sadomasochism is shockingly common among successful nobles. Power play. A love of pain is especially prevalent. Which makes sense… successful nobles take their lumps. Many seem to enjoy being dominated in the bedroom after a long day of ruling over others.” 

Sundance swallowed. 

Hard. 

“Fascinating,” he said in a voice that squeaked like a rusty hinge. 

“Are you worried that you’re a sexual deviant?” she asked, point blank. 

When he did not respond, she said, “Don’t worry about it. You’re fine. I might be biased though. Had to grow up fast when I did finally become Mistress Luna’s apprentice. As a filly in the dream realm, I was exposed to all kinds of kink. Which, I suppose, looking back on it all, might have been one of the reasons why Mistress Luna was hesitant to take me on as her apprentice. I was exposed to all kinds of sexual horror. Don’t feel bad for me though, I’m totally fine with it.” 

“How?” he asked, hating his own inquisitiveness. 

“Mistress Luna taught me how to compartmentalise my mind. There are some doors I don’t open. I have closets for things that I find upsetting. Occasionally, my master goes through and cleans out my closets for me and declutters everything so I don’t go insane.” 

Twisting his head around in an owlish manner, Sundance had himself a look at Princess Luna. What fresh horror did she witness on a nightly basis? How did she bear it? What stark terror did she observe in the minds of hooligans and deviants? For the first time, it occurred to him that Princess Luna did a truly thankless job, a terrible, horrible, awful, no-good job, and that she was exposed nightly to all manner of mind-wrecking horror. 

His mother, Officer Mom, she was exposed to the worst sorts of things. On a daily basis, his mother dealt with murders, rapes, domestic assaults, every rotten thing that could be done. But Princess Luna… she looked into the minds of the awful sorts that performed these acts. Just thinking about it made his blood run cold. His mother had turned into a hard, flinty mare because of all she’d seen, all of the awful things witnessed. 

Something within him felt as though it was on the verge of breaking. 

It was a struggle to draw breath now. The sheer crushing weight of it all settled upon Sundance’s withers and threatened to snap his spine. His own troubles now seemed so meaningless, so trivial. From an early age, he’d always worshipped his mother as some sort of hero because of her work. As he grew older and gained understanding into the nature of her work, that feeling of hero worship progressed steadily, until it was what it was now, which was an indescribable sort of reverence. 

Which he now felt for Princess Luna. 

“I cannot wait another moment,” Princess Celestia said. “Sundance, please escort me to my orchard. I simply must see it.” 



 

Dizzy, disoriented, Sundance tried to make sense of whatever had just happened. He was no longer sitting at the table, crushed beneath the weight of his own realisations. No, at the moment, he was standing on an outcropping of rock that overlooked the ravine that sheltered his orchard. Princess Celestia’s orchard? Mere seconds before the world turned topsy-turvy, he’d heard her say, ‘my orchard.’ 

“What—” 

“It is far too nice a day for you to begin moping over frightful realisations,” Princess Celestia said to Sundance. 

“But I—” 

“I have missed this place.” The princess closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and let it all out in a huff. “With the resources of this land, I made a nation. It all started here, in a sense. When I first saw this ravine, it was not so deep and broad. Erosion has shaped it, as well as the industrious labour of strong, sturdy peasants. Much can change in a thousand years.”  

He realised that she was saving him from himself, and he allowed his troubling thoughts about Princess Luna to slip away. As he stood watching, she opened her eyes, and he saw that they were misty. His own emotions were a seething caldera, but he struggled to bring them back under control. 

“Let me show you,” he heard her say, and once more, Sundance felt reality collapse all around him. 



 

The orchard below was crowded with ponies of all colours and tribes. Tree limbs were heavy with a bounty of fruit. Sundance blinked, trying to recover his senses, and then he noticed the incredible change in the world all around him. He saw stone towers, stone cottages, and he could hear the steady ring of metal on metal. Sharp-eyed pegasus ponies circled overhead and peered out from the towers. 

There were too many ponies to count. When he breathed in, his nose was tickled by the tang of cider, a faintly spicy smell that made his mouth water. The river that flowed along the floor of the ravine seemed swollen, almost on the verge of flooding. Waterwheels creaked as they harnessed the flow of water, turning unseen machinery inside of stone-walled mills. 

This was a land of plenty… 

“Not long after Nightmare Moon was banished, with my home in ruins, I headed north.” Princess Celestia struck a commanding pose. “It was a time of great upheaval. Equestria as you know it did not exist. I had the First Tribes, those that had survived Discord’s terrible reign, and the New Tribes, those that survived the Windigo Winter. 

“The Everfree, cursed as it was, could not sustain us. We faced yet another exodus and we ventured forth into the vast unknown. Discord’s rule had ravaged the land. The Windigo Winter had left the weather quite hostile. These were bleak times, and it felt as though death was the only constant thing in our lives. 

“Canterlot, as you know it, was still under construction. It was a fortress, a watchtower, the only thing keeping us safe from the terrible threats to the west—threats that I knew would have to be dealt with, but to do so, I would need an army. The east was no better. All manner of pony-devouring monsters roamed the east, and our only consolation was the fact that these monsters were not quite so rapacious as those to the west, which actively sought our extinction.” 

A crude airship passed overhead, and Sundance stared up at it, slack-jawed. 

“It was our great fortune to find this place,” Princess Celestia said, continuing her impromptu history lesson. “Sure, it smelled awful, but so did the peasants. Phew! The weather here was brutal… far, far worse than it is now, but we had steam vents and boiling hot water. Several hundred died during our very first winter. I could not save them.” 

Closing her eyes once more, the princess let heave a forlorn sigh, and then her eyes fluttered open. 

“You see, I was weaker then. Having just banished my sister, I was still trying to manage the heavens all by myself. It took up so much of my magic that I barely had enough to do anything else.” Again, she sighed. “With spring came hope. Work was started on this orchard. We lit beacons and kept the lights on. A flood of survivors came pouring in, those scattered from Discord’s reign, or the Windigo Winter, drawn like moths to the light. 

“The second winter saw almost half our number die. Our numbers grew far too large, with far too little food. Somehow, that second winter was even worse than the first winter. A pony can only take so much loss. I was missing my sister, and with all of the death, I almost went mad with grief. Plus, there were still threats to us. When spring came, it was a relief. 

“We got strong. We got resilient. An army was mustered. Every stone that we could spare was sent to Canterlot. Scouts were sent out into the wilderness to find survivors. The orchard—this orchard, was nurtured. Crops began to grow, but the soil was still badly tainted. Bad magic abounded and gave birth to monsters. The sun and moon began to behave themselves. The third winter laid siege to us, but we were defiant. There were deaths, but not as many. After that, we had enough food to send to Canterlot. An expedition was sent to recover Luna’s land to the north of Canterlot, what we now call Lulamoon Hollow, the land forever shrouded in shadow. We found powerful wizards there, Luna’s descendents. They were all too happy to join us in exchange for food. They ensured our survival.” 

Princess Celestia turned about to have a look around. 

“In time, this place became what you see now… a bastion of plenty. From here, we secured the Canterhorn and formed a circle of fiefdoms around it, with Canterlot as our watchtower right smack in the middle of it. Eventually, Canterlot would become our capital. Food does not grow in Canterlot though, so this place was vital to our continued existence.” 

Entranced, Sundance watched everything around him, trying to take in every detail. The significance, the importance of this land was now understood, and he began to understand why watching it go to ruin pained Princess Celestia so much. She had eked out a future from this hard, stony land. 

“How am I seeing this?” he asked. “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?” 

“Of a sort,” she replied. “This is a daydream. Now that Luna and I are once more in balance, our magics have merged… in a sense. It’s complicated.” Holding out her wing, she pointed. “Look, over there. In that direction. You can make out the shipyards. The land blessed us with timber, and we built a mighty fleet. With those airships, we pushed east and west, and over time, we secured our coasts.” 

“Don’t airships need electricity?” he asked. 

“Pegasus ponies captured lightning in jars… that was how we got electricity back in those days. Or we tapped into a sparky unicorn. Once we dominated the skies, we dominated the land, and eventually the seas. Anything that was a threat was obliterated. I held a different maxim back then… make peace or face anhilliation. Peaceful diplomacy would have to come later, after we’d pulled ourselves away from the precipice of extinction.” 

Sure enough, he could see the shipyards if he peered between the tops of trees. A ship was under construction right now. A pegasus pony went whizzing by his head carrying a bucket of steaming, smelly tar. When the wind shifted, he caught a sour smell that made his mouth and eyes water. 

“Vinegar,” Princess Celestia murmured. “With vinegar and underground storage, we had excellent food preservation. We pickled everything that we didn’t eat fresh. Why, we were the pickliest-eating ponies you ever did see. I hitched my future to vinegar production… a gamble. We had to sacrifice food to make vinegar, but we had to have vinegar to preserve our food. The gamble paid off.” She shook her head while clucking her tongue. “Now, we have modern refrigeration. Vinegar is, at best, a condiment. It is no longer the vital lifeblood of Equestria. But just a few generations ago…” Her words trailed off and she licked her lips. 

Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, everything faded away, collapsing like sands in an hourglass.
> There is no worse rivalry than those between siblings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Princess Celestia could create a nation from scratch, then Sundance knew that he could do no less. She was far more animated now, happier perhaps, and was discussing the orchard with Commander Humblewood. Sundance, unsettled, wasn’t sure how to feel, but at the moment, he didn’t feel bad. If anything, he felt inspired in some vague, unknown way, though he wasn’t sure how he was inspired. 

Things didn’t feel quite so impossible. 

Or hopeless. 

The princesses were truly inspiring ponies, the both of them. He’d just learned that Princess Celestia had done so much with so little, and that Princess Luna, well, she was a far better pony than he gave her credit for. His reverence had always been for Princess Celestia, and now, for the first time, he understood that he’d made a mistake. Rather than mope about it though, he made plans to do better. To be better. 

“She likes you, you know.” 

Turning about, Sundance faced Moon Rose once more. 

“When Celestia truly likes you, she becomes your teacher. You seemed to be having a moment there just a bit ago. That’s when she strikes. I think that’s how she combats negativity and despair—she teaches. When a student is having a bad day, sometimes, if Celestia is around, she whisks them away for private lessons. She’s done it with me… and there were many days when Paradox was Celestia’s focus. Poor Paradox would start crying in class and poof! Celestia would appear, just like magic. The approach seems so successful that other teachers in Celestia’s school do the same.” 

“Do you know Paradox very well?” he asked. 

“I know that she is brilliant,” Moon Rose replied. “She is the literal tortured genius. The potential for great good is there… but also great evil. Celestia has nurtured her into goodness. Hurt changes a pony.” 

Sundance’s eyes darted to and fro; he glanced at Luna for a moment, then Paradox, and then at the ponies all around him. He thought of his mother for some reason and wondered how her job might have hurt her. Thoughtful, he recalled his time in school… that had hurt him. What changes took place within him because of his own hurts? Did he have a capacity for evil? 

Probably not, he decided; he drank his tea, afterall. 

His mood was all over the place today and he probably needed a good flight to sort everything out. His realisation about Princess Luna troubled him a bit, but he was recovering himself from his painful new awareness. Learning came at a cost; this was something he already knew, but this drove home the point. A sense of inadequacy lurked, that he wasn’t worthy of all of this, but he kept that at bay. Moon Rose, a bookish sort, was rather attractive and he had her attention, so life wasn’t all bad. Not everything was doom and gloom. 

“Steadfast…” 

Sundance’s head whipped around with remarkable speed at the sound of Princess Luna’s voice. Steadfast was holding his head up. More than that, he was looking around, blinking his bleary eyes, and squinting in the sunlight. Hailstone appeared to be quite overjoyed, and she held out one foreleg, ready to catch her brother’s head if it dropped suddenly. 

Princess Luna pushed Paradox out of the way in her sudden rush to go to Steadfast’s side. Paradox, shoved out of the way, didn’t seem to mind, not in the slightest, and like everypony else, her attention was on Steadfast, who yawned. His orange tongue dangled, it hung from his bottom lip for a brief moment, and then vanished with a wet slurp. 

“You’re holding your head up, Steadfast. It’s been awhile.” 

“I feel better,” the colt said to his mother, wheezing out each word. 

“How… curious.” Princess Luna was a different pony now as she hovered over her son, clearly resisting the urge to snatch him up from where he lay. 

Steadfast’s thin, pinched face contorted, Sundance thought the colt was in pain, but it was just a sneeze, a rather weak, feeble sneeze that left his muzzle snotty. Princess Luna conjured up a dark blue hanky, wiped her son’s nose, and then vanished the snotty hanky from sight. She acted a bit too soon though, as Steadfast sneezed for a second time. 

The poor colt looked woozy from sneezing, but somehow kept his head held high. 

Again, his mother conjured up a hanky—a clean one—and when she was done, this one too was vanished from view. Aurora snorted, rolled over a bit, but did not wake up. Hailstone pulled the blanket over her sister, patted her snoozing sibling once, and then returned her full attention to her brother. 

“It’s the land,” Paradox said, her voice wavering with a bit of uncertainty. “I plan to study it. The land seems to have an affinity for earth ponies, or maybe it’s just because there’s so many earth ponies here, so my conclusions might be erroneous. I’m pretty sure that it’s affecting Steadfast.” 

“But how?” Princess Luna asked as her sister approached. 

“I’ve never fully understood the magic of this place,” Princess Celestia said as she stood gazing down at Steadfast, who was having a good look around. “It gave us life in spite of the ground being tainted and cursed. The cursed earth hit the earth ponies the hardest. Made them sick. It did something to their magic that I couldn’t comprehend. But here, in this place, they found strength. They recovered. Alas, I never had a chance to study it, as there were far too many other things that demanded my attention.” 

Princess Luna bit her bottom lip and then stood in silence. 

Now, Prince Gosling was coming over, with Beans and Toast just behind him. His face was solemn, but there was something about his eyes that suggested joy, a silent, reserved joy. Sundance got out of the prince’s way, fearing that he might be shoved aside just as Paradox had been. Others too, began to gather, and craned their necks to see what was going on. 

When Prince Gosling spoke, it was a command: “Beans, Toast, I want soil samples.” 

“Right. Right away.” The twins, who spoke in unison, cast a final glance at Steadfast, and then they departed together, vanishing in a flash. 

“He’s held his head up before,” Prince Gosling said to Princess Luna. 

“Yes, but not often,” was her reply. “Look at him. Do not deny this is different.” 

“I’m not denying anything, but a mother’s hopes can change her perceptions.” 

“Something is different though,” Princess Celestia said. “I can feel it.” 

“I am too emotional to know what I feel.” Princess Luna lowered her head down, until her muzzle was mere inches away from her son. 

When she pressed her snoot against her son’s ear, a wheezy giggle could be heard. 

In a most unprincessly manner, Princess Luna flopped down onto the grass, crawled on her belly to get closer, and then went still while looking into her son’s eyes. Steadfast wobbled a bit, held out one trembling stick-thin foreleg, and he was pulled closer to his mother. He settled between her forelegs and sniffled a bit while his mother wrapped his blanket around his body. Somehow, through all of this, he kept his head held high. 

“Hello, Sleepyhead.” 

Somehow, this moment felt far too private, and Sundance wanted to turn away, but found that he could not. Princess Luna kissed her son and he thought of his own mother. She was a hard mare, but she had her moments. When he was sick, she would sing to him, and would sometimes bring him grilled cheese sandwiches in bed. Remembering this, he found that he missed her fiercely. Those tender moments mattered more, because they were special, because they were rare and didn’t happen often. His mother was a busy mare—just like Princess Luna no doubt was. 

“You could stay here, you know,” Sundance offered. “If you wanted to.” 

“These are my sister’s ancestral lands,” was Princess Luna’s deadpan reply. 

“Why does that matter?” Sundance asked, baffled by her response. 

She offered no return, but cuddled her son. He felt the light touch of feathers on his neck, and when he turned his head, Princess Celestia was right there. He looked at her, all too aware of her piercing gaze, and he couldn’t help but feel that she was staring right into his naked, vulnerable soul. 

“That’s the sort of thing that family would say,” she whispered, and her hot, cinnamon-scented breath tickled Sundance’s nose. 

“You’ve done so much,” he replied, “and I feel as though I’ve done so little in return. I just want to do something to help.” It was a struggle not to sneeze, but he didn’t dare. He would not sneeze on a princess, no matter how tickly and cinnamon-scented her breath was. 

“It is a matter of time, I fear,” the white alicorn said. “So much is expected of my sister these days. But, we shall take you up on your offer, and time will be made. We’ll discuss this later, to be sure.” 

Taking a step back, Sundance did nothing to press the issue further. 



 

Princess Celestia smacking her lips was a thundercrack. She sat with one son on each side of her, as if she was a mighty barrier that preserved peace between the brothers. Food was being served now, with trays and pans being brought to each and every table. When an enormous pan of macaroni and cheese was put down, the princess leaned over the table and sniffed. 

A moment later, a massive platter of hot fried pickles was presented for the monarch’s inspection. 

“There’ll be coronal mass ejections tonight—” 

“Nuance, hush.” Something that was almost a smirk lurked on Princess Celestia’s muzzle. 

“Tremendous bubbles of superheated gas—” 

“Radiance… really?” The princess turned to face her other son. 

“Solar winds—” 

“Gosling… shut up.” 

Clapping her front hooves together, Hailstone shouted, “Farts!” 

Before Princess Celestia could reprimand the clapping pegasus filly, Prince Gosling said, “Hey, she’s pretty clever. My little Hailstone cut through all these big words and said what we’re all thinking but are too polite to say.” 

Groaning, Princess Celestia covered her face with her wing, and Sundance, unable to help himself, laughed. He did so alone at first, but Moon Rose was quick to join him, and Paradox, mortified, let out a forced chuckle that fell flat the second it left her lips. More food was piled upon the table, which sagged beneath the weight. It was guard chow, to be sure, which meant it was hot, filling, and there was plenty of it. 

“One day, this will happen to you, Sundance,” Princess Celestia said as she pulled her wing away from her face. “You will be a mighty baron, but all of your majesty will be undone by your hooligan offspring—just as my majesty is thoroughly brought to ruin by my own insufferable little hooligans—” 

“Hey!” both Radiance and Nuance said together at once. 

“What’s the big idea?” Nuance demanded. 

“Why I oughta…” Radiance, scowling, gave his mother a dark look.

“I’m the good one,” Corbie announced, and this earned her the silent, petulant ire of both of her brothers. 

Arming herself with a serving spoon, Princess Celestia waved it around and menaced her offspring in a playful manner before she began digging into the food. As a mother, as a parent, Princess Celestia was quite different than his own mother, and Sundance watched as she heaped food on plates. Nuance got more fried pickles, while Radiance got an extra spoonful of macaroni and cheese. Corbie got smaller portions, but a huge, heaping pile of spring greens. 

“Ugh, salad,” the filly sighed in dismay. 

“I’ll take nothing but salad,” Skyla said. “Please.” 

“You’ve been eating sweets all week—” 

“I know, Corbie”—with her irresponsibility revealed, Skyla scowled—“and I’m worried about transforming into a winged hippopotamus. Have you seen the size of my sister’s royal as—” 

“Skyla!” Princess Celestia snapped. 

“—sets?” 

“We’re not fooled, filly.” Prince Gosling shook his head from side to side, but there was a smirk on the side of his face that was away from Princess Celestia. 

Sundance came from a small, poor family. It wasn’t often that they ate together, and when they did, it was a mostly quiet affair. Eating with his subjects proved similar, as they focused on eating, for the most part. Time spent talking was time spent not eating, unless of course they talked with their mouths full, which tended to happen. 

But this… this was a meal with family. It was new and quite unlike anything that he’d ever experienced. The table was crowded. Not just family, either, but friends, because Commander Humblewood and Berry Briar were present. Something about the food and the togetherness made him feel closer to Paradox, who, it could be said, had a far more definable family connection. 

This felt good, like nothing else.

More food was deposited upon the table, much to Sundance’s delight, but Princess Celestia seemed to only have eyes for macaroni and cheese, as well as the fried pickles. Princess Luna however, took immediate interest in the massive platter left behind by the serving staff. 

“Mmm”—she licked her lips—“pasties. Royal Guard Pasties stuffed with mystery mince.”

Prince Gosling too, showed interest. “An Equestrian tradition for almost eight-hundred years. No two batches are ever quite the same. Made of the finest mystery ingredients.”

“It might just be the finest of the Royal Guard traditions,” Radiance quipped whilst eagerly eyeing the steaming pile of pasties. 

“I’ve heard stories that they put meat in those.” Corbie cringed away from the pasties, dubious of their supposed goodness. 

“As minced as it is, you’d never know it,” Prince Gosling said to his daughter. 

“Yuck!” Corbie stuck out her tongue and shied away from the mystery-filled pasties. 

“Long ago, I told our most promising cooks to scrounge, scavenge, or steal whatever they could and grind it into hash to keep bellies filled.” Princess Celestia paused for a moment, her large steel serving spoon hung in mid-air, motionless, and she seemed lost in misty-eyed remembrance of the old days. “An enterprising Pie took that hash and put it into a pasty. That pasty was then deep fried in sunflower oil, which came from this very barony. I’d like to think that learning how to digest these pasties are what makes our guardsponies so hearty.” 

A massive bowl of potato salad was dropped off and left on the corner of the table. 

Sundance’s ears pricked as a plate was prepared and plopped down in front of him. On it, there was a little bit of everything. Fried pickle chips, macaroni and cheese, some salad, and a pasty stuck up like a tombstone from the potato salad. Then, just as he was about to dig in, Princess Luna stuck a second pasty on his plate, planting this one in the midst of the vividly yellow macaroni and cheese. 

“Well, good job, Nuance.” Radiance leaned forwards over the table, to peer around his mother’s neck at his brother. "You've done something that mother can be proud of. Really proud. She no longer has to lie to make you feel better."

The tension was immediate and sudden. 

Princess Celestia’s face darkened and it grew curiously warm; it was a lot like the oppressive, suffocating heat just before a thunderstorm. There was an awful sound as Corbie ground her teeth together, and it seemed as though the irate filly might just launch herself at her brother. A tired, weary sigh could be heard escaping from Princess Luna, while Gosling wrapped a wing around his daughter, Corbie, perhaps to keep her from acting upon her anger. 

Before his mother could spit out her lecture, Nuance spoke: “Mother, it’s alright. I’ve grown a thicker skin since coming here. I’ve also learned the importance of keeping my end of the deal. Look at what I’ve accomplished. I made a deal and I followed it through to completion.” Then, facing his brother, with his lip curled back into a sneer worthy of Prince Blueblood, he asked, “How is progress on that railroad depot, brother?” 

Radiance, quivering with rage, his face turned an unnatural shade of purple. 

“That gatehouse”—Commander Humblewood spoke with the calm, steady assurance of a seasoned officer—“is a testament to Nuance’s work. He drew upon his studies of fortifications to lay out the initial plans. Nuance organised resource gathering and coordinated the various teams. Everything ran so smoothly that the gatehouse was constructed in mere days, which I find astounding. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that Nuance did all of this with no mark. He had no natural talent guiding his way, just his own wit and cleverness, which speaks volumes for his future potential.”

“This is your day in the sun.” Princess Celestia, her fury cooled a little, lifted Nuance from where he sat, and, ignoring his protests, pulled him close. After smooching him once, she said, “I am so proud of you. Nuance, I need you to know, I’ve always been proud of you when you apply yourself, and I would never, ever lie about that. You, you’re smart enough to know when I am disappointed, and when I’m not. Also, it seems that Blueblood’s and Dim’s tutelage has rubbed off on you. That was incredibly diplomatic of you to say, because it goads Radiance into keeping his promise.” Again, she smooched her son, and this time, Nuance did not squirm away. 

Radiance, his forelegs now folded over his barrel, sulked. 

“Dim’s endless cruelty has made me a better pony,” the colt said to his mother. 

Saying nothing, Quiet smirked while resting her forelegs against the edge of the table. 

“He’s not really that cruel, you know.” Nuance spoke in a low whisper whilst he touched his mother’s cheek. “It just feels that way sometimes. He doesn’t accept my excuses and he holds me accountable for everything I do. Sometimes, it feels unfair, because Dim never relents, and he never cuts me any slack, but I’m really glad that he holds me over the fire. I was finally able to show up my brother, and it feels great.” 

Princess Celestia’s expression turned deadpan. 

“Mother, I have better motivations, I promise. I did this for the sake of doing good. Showing up my brother was just a pleasant reward, that’s all. Though I will admit, it is what I thought about when things got tough and I felt overwhelmed. Those times when everything felt impossible.” 

A grudging half-smile appeared upon Princess Celestia’s face, like a sunbeam parting angry storm clouds. She pulled her son close, kissed him once more, and then put him back down where he had been seated. A little confused, but also happy, Nuance leaned up against his mother, and did so without embarrassment or shame. 

Sundance was happy for him. 

“No more squabbling,” Prince Gosling said. “Let’s eat.”
> Making the mark
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why, Sundance, I do think you have a graffiti problem.” 

Thinking of the occasional lewd graffiti that could be found, Sundance smiled in response and told Princess Celestia, “Look closer.” 

Casually pushing Commander Humblewood aside, the big mare leaned in, squinted, and had herself a better look at the gatehouse walls. Her squinty, somewhat wrinkly expression turned into one of smooth-faced surprise, and her eyes widened whilst her ears pricked so hard that the tips almost touched her horn. Sundance heard her wicker, and this was followed up by a deep-throated bellow as the princess began to read. 

The pasties from lunch were now leaden cannonballs in Sundance’s stomach, and he wondered if it was equinely possible to even digest them. He’d eaten a total of six with his meal, and had done so at Princess Luna’s insistence, with her patting him on the cheek while telling him that consuming them would turn him into a soldier with a cast iron stomach. So far, the transformation process left him feeling sweaty, bloated, and in need of a nap, but he had to follow Princess Celestia around as she completed her formal inspection. 

He suspected that the afternoon would be a long one. 

“I enlisted because I was told that there were hot fillies who liked enlistees,” Princess Celestia read aloud. 

Hearing this caused Sundance’s cheeks to draw tight, and his teeth clicked together. He hadn’t actually read all of the messages, just some of them, and he contemplated what wonderful words of inspiration had been engraved into the stone of the structure he now called home. As he stood there, with his cheeks tight and his guts struggling to digest the indigestible, he just so happened to glance over at Commander Humblewood, because muffled snickering could be heard. 

Princess Celestia continued reading, and nopony dared to interrupt. Nuance shuffled around, distracted, fidgety, and anxious, while Commander Humblewood stood at ease. As for Sundance, he could feel his digestive juices squishing, squirting, and squelching, and he hoped that the fight was going well, because losing meant having his plumbing get backed up. 

Then, quite suddenly, Nuance looked up at Sundance and said, “You look like how I feel right now.” 

If only the colt knew, Sundance thought to himself. 

“Father Goose told me that nothing lifts tail like golden armor, so I enlisted,” Princess Celestia said as she continued reading. The alabaster behemoth sighed, a variable windstorm ensued, and rolling her eyes, she shook her head from side to side. 

“Hmm, I wonder if Quiet would like to see me in—” 

“Nuance, if you finish that statement, you will be grounded—” 

“Mom—” 

“For life, Nuance. For life.” The big mare peeled her eyes away from the inspirational messages and peered down at her son with a bizarre smile that betrayed her serious tone. 

“But... Mom—” 

“Nuance, I can’t believe that you did all of this,” Princess Celestia said, changing the subject. 

Right before Sundance’s eyes, poor Nuance seemed to shrink, and he shied away from his mother. It was heartbreaking to watch, and he heard the colt say, “Mother… do you doubt me?” 

As was so often the case, Princess Celestia’s demeanour suffered rapid change. At first, Sundance saw shock, but this turned to pain, then guilt, back to pain, and then a whole avalanche of emotions that he couldn’t keep up with. He felt his own emotions struggling to keep up. For some reason, his vision blurred over and his eyes stung. Was the pollen that bad? 

“Nuance… no… no…” Princess Celestia lowered her head so that she could be down at eye level with her son, and using her wing, she lifted his head so that she could look him in the eye. “It is not doubt, my son, but surprise. You have surprised me. Nuance, you hated your lessons in fortifications and architecture.” 

Almost sniffling, Nuance replied, “I never thought they would have practical use. Learning that stuff felt like a waste of time. It seemed so pointless. Mother, I’m really confused right now.” 

“Nuance, son of mine, you and I have hit a new stage in our relationship. Obviously, you’re not used to surprising me, and I’m not used to being surprised. At least, not in this way. Please, do not assume the worst of me during this time when we try to figure one another out. You have done something extraordinary, and I must confess, I am at a loss for how to react.” 

Eyes stinging, his vision now too blurred to see, Sundance turned his head away so that he could wipe his eyes with his wing. There was pollen, or dust, or something in the air that was really messing with him. Not only were his eyes watery, but his nose felt sniffly too. Each breath was almost a shudder, his barrel felt tight, and for some reason that he could not explain, he really wanted to be with his mother. 

“All of your brother’s many successes come from the fact that he is utterly unable to fail, at least in regards to his talent. Radiance is successful without effort, without trying. You, Nuance… look at what you’ve done. You did this by applying yourself and working hard. This was accomplished with effort. Nuance, you’ve done something that I suspect that your brother will never do… and while that doesn’t make you better than him, it is my most sincere desire that you learn that anything is possible with hard work.” Then, after a deep breath, she added, “Son of mine, will you give me a tour? How did you utilise the space you had to work with?” 

Sundance, his eyes squeezed shut, tried to get the annoying stinging to go away. 

“I kept it simple, Mother. Considering the location, I used Expansionist Era architecture, when Equestria’s new settlements were forts, bunkhouses, and communal kitchens. So this is just bedrooms and a few large, open areas that can be used for just about any purpose.” 

“The Age of Optimism, when Equestria dared to dream. I do miss that era. After that, once we had secured both coasts, and we had a well-defined northern and southern border, things grew so much easier. But I couldn't help but feel that something was lost in the eras that followed. Things were easier, we struggled less, and… something changed. We were no longer the nation we once were, but we became something else.” There was a pause and the princess went silent for a time, until she continued, “I guess we settled in to become average, normal ponies. Exceptional types seemed rarer. Fewer. Without such adversity, so few were tested… forgive me, Nuance, I seem to have gotten lost in reminiscing.” 

“It’s alright, Mom.” 

“Equestria became a pastoral paradise, a great, green land that was secure and safe. At least in comparison to the rest of the world. So many came to our shores, seeking safety and a new life.” Princess Celestia bit her lip, chewed it thoughtfully, lifted her head up high, and then tilting her head, she glanced upwards in the direction of the belltower. “Sure are a lot of owls up there. That… that is a whole lot of hooters!” 

“Mother, I feel funny—” 

“Nuance, I told you not to eat so many pasties. You do not have the constitution of your siblings, son of mine.” 

“No, Mom, I feel… weird.” 

Sundance peeled his eyes open, and the world was a blurry, blurry place. 

“Nuance!” Princess Celestia’s voice was shrill with… glee? 

Blinking, Sundance tried to clear his vision and as he did so, his stomach rumbled as if to suggest that he too, lacked the constitution required to digest the deep fried bricks that he’d eaten. He heard the flutter of wings, the rustle of feathers, and the sound unique to winged ponies as feathers slid against a smooth, silken pelt. 

“What does it mean, Mother?” the colt asked. 

Finally able to focus, Sundance looked around, still blinking rapidly, and he brought his gaze to bear upon Nuance—only to see that Nuance had undergone a profound change. The colt was trotting about in circles, round and round he went, all while his mother made exasperated mom-whinnies because she was trying to have a better look. 

“Hold still, Nuance… why must you always fidget so?” 

“I can’t make my legs stop,” the colt replied. “Nervous energy!” 

“You just got a cutie mark, Nuance. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Now hold still so I can have a better look!” 

When Nuance failed to hold still, Princess Celestia lifted him, held him aloft, and had herself a better look. After a cursory examination she said, “It’s a mason’s calipers, a scroll, and a quill. How curious—” 

“But what does it mean!” Nuance whined. “Summon Sunburst at once! He’ll know!” 

“Nuance—” 

“Mom, I don’t want to be an architect, I still hate studying fortifications! I hate studying! I hate having to hold still! Don’t make me study fortifications, please!” 

“Nuance!” Princess Celestia’s tone of command silenced her wiggling, struggling son. “We’ll discern the nature of what this means later. Now… calm down before you have a nosebleed. Calm… think calm thoughts… focus. Good air in, bad air out. Good air in—” 

“Bad air out,” the colt said, exhaling. 

“Good. Since you can’t seem to hold still, you're going to give me a tour. A calm, quiet tour. You will be collected. Cool. You will be cool.” She clucked her tongue in the way of mothers everywhere when trying to establish control. “Now, please… show me around so I can continue my inspection.” 



 

The gallery, which Sundance had once felt was rather large, now felt smaller somehow, and more cramped as Princess Celestia paced the length of the floor. It was a tall room though, and the princess had plenty of room to hold her head high. Nuance followed along, trailing just behind her, clearly struggling to keep up with his mother. 

“I once ruled Equestria from a room similar to this one,” she remarked as she turned about rather suddenly. “Only there were no steel girders for the rafters, but rough-hewn timber. I too, lived in a gatehouse. This design is timeless… classic, and it fills me with nostalgia.” 

“Mother, I had help. There was lots of collaboration, and I listened to what others had to say.” Nuance came to a halt near his mother’s left foreleg. “We decided to mix new and old. Like the skylight in the other room with the protective steel plate. Do you approve?” 

Lost in thought, Princess Celestia did not answer right away, but her head turned this way, and that way, until at last she said, “This is commendable.” 

The moment the words left her mouth, Nuance heaved a sigh of relief, and then almost fell over. Commander Humblewood smiled, held his head high, and struck a proud pose. His drooping handlebar mustache framed his tight-lipped smile. Everything about his martial bearing suggested that he was quite pleased with his victory. 

“This place will need some furnishings,” the princess said as she began to pace once more. 

She did not stop when she reached the door, but continued into the parlour, the room with the massive skylight and the fireplace. Sundance, his hooves clopping against the floor, hurried to follow her, and was joined by both Commander Humblewood and Nuance. When Sundance passed through the door, he saw the princess standing in front of the fireplace, gazing into it, as if staring at a fire that wasn’t there. It was an enormous fireplace, but the tall princess somehow made it look quite small. 

Extending her wing, she said, “What we have here is art. This is no necessary construction—” 

“Mother, I’m sorry.” 

“No, Nuance… please, let me finish.” She cleared her throat. “This is art. It wasn’t necessary to make this, a simple fireplace could have been constructed. But this… this allowed somepony to gain skill, to grow and advance. It adds a level of beauty that goes beyond mere functionality. Guests will come here, Sundance will entertain them, and they will remember this fireplace. The fireplace is what makes all of this go from remarkable to exceptional. In the future, Nuance”—here, the mare’s tone changed to something that sounded more warm and educational—“you would do well to add these exceptional flourishes to your projects. They will serve your reputation and give you distinction.” 

Then, with a gasp, Nuance fainted. 

Though quite alarmed himself, Sundance saw that Princess Celestia didn’t seem overly concerned that her son had just keeled over and fainted dead away. She sighed, a resigned sound, and then, using her magic, she lifted her son up from the floor. A tender expression could be seen on her face, and her sides heaved when she sighed again. 

“So high strung, this one. Such a desire to prove himself, while also suffering from such a dreadful fear of failure. At the first sign of trouble, he quits, or runs away, rather than allow failure to happen. Poor dear… he’s run away from failure for so long… and he has no idea how to deal with success.” She sighed yet again, then added, “It’s been a while since he’s fainted.” 

Commander Humblewood cleared his throat, but said nothing. 

“Excuse me, but a little time is needed so that my son might recover. We shall continue this inspection after he is roused and I am convinced that he is okay.”
> A barony inspected
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With Nuance revived, and the inspection continued, they were joined by Skyla, who seemed fidgety and out of sorts. She wore dark glasses, sunglasses, and kept shielding her eyes with her wing whenever exposed to direct sunlight. Sundance suspected that the poor filly might have had something of a headache, and he sympathised with her. Nuance—now recovered—seemed embarrassed, and refused to even acknowledge that anything had happened. When his mother tried to talk about it, the colt rolled his eyes, sighed, and stomped his hoof against the floor. 

Standing atop the gatehouse gave them all a remarkable view of the box canyon now turned keep. Princess Celestia’s ethereal mane blew in a direction opposite of the wind, which caused Sundance a bit of vertigo. He couldn’t help but feel that this was an important moment, and he was hesitant to say anything, fearful of spoiling it. This was the princess’ ancestral home and so much more. Her son and daughter both had come here and had been touched by destiny. They would go home different ponies. This—whatever this was—had been a long time coming. 

Sundance couldn’t help but feel that Nuance had a place here, or, if not a place, a purpose. It was a feeling that could not be described, something deep within his bones. It went beyond intelligence, or wisdom… it was just knowing. The colt had come into his own here and now, bigger, better things would be expected from him—the same as which could be said for Sundance. 

Down below, Princess Luna anxiously shepherded her son, Steadfast, as he took a few trembling, wobbly steps. That he was even standing was remarkable. Prince Gosling was being led about by Berry Briar, who showed him the changes made to the dining hall. Sundance looked up at the mare who stood looking down over the rail, but nothing was said, for fear of spoiling the moment. 

Quiet, Corbie, and Hailstone pranced in a tight, protective circle around Steadfast, while Aurora—who peeped out from between her mother’s front legs—yawned and glanced about. The Gringineers were having a good time, a great time, it could be said, and Sundance’s subjects were having the time of their lives. Quite some distance away, Paradox anxiously stood by her door, waiting for Princess Celestia to visit. 

“This is just what I needed.” 

Sundance detected a faint tremour in Princess Celestia’s voice, and his ears stood at attention. 

“After the events of Fillydelphia and what had to be done there, this is like a soothing balm.” The tall mare slumped a bit, her proud neck sagged, and her ears, previously rigid and alert, now splayed out sideways. “I fear it won’t be long for Baltimare, either. The situation there rapidly becomes untenable. It is days like this one that gives me the strength I need to continue.” 

“It’s good to see a part of Equestria that is rising up, rather than falling down,” Commander Humblewood remarked. “Our troubles are the same as always, though the cause is different. You’ll figure something out, Your Majesty.” 

“Commander, all of my attention is focused on the war.” For a brief few seconds, the princess’ lips formed a tight, thin line, and her eyes glittered like diamonds. But the hard expression passed, it softened, and she shook her head. “Our future, whatever it might be, depends upon Twilight Sparkle and her clever resourcefulness. And no, do not think this current state of failure to be Twilight’s doing. These problems began before she was born. I suspect that without Twilight’s influence, things would be so much worse.” 

“I would never suggest such a thing.” Commander Humblewood stiffened, his neck held straight, and his spine formed a flat, level line that was military-grade perfection. “Princess Twilight Sparkle is a non-traditionalist, to be sure, but times like these demand outside of the box thinking.” 

“It pleases me to hear you say that, Commander Humblewood. Twilight has far too many critics just waiting to rend her limb from limb when her new policies do not provide instant results.” 

“Perhaps, Majesty, it is time”—the commander cleared his throat and when he continued, his voice was quite low—“to silence the critics. Bad for morale, and all that. Nothing harsh, mind you.” 

“No.” Again, Princess Celestia went tight lipped; as she did so, she looked down at her son, Nuance, perhaps to check his reaction, because the colt had been quite silent this whole time. 

Commander Humblewood appeared to be uncomfortable now. He shuffled about, unable to look at the princess, and his gaze seemed quite far away. It was obvious that he wanted to say more, perhaps to plead his case, to explain why he deemed silencing said critics necessary. As for Sundance, he didn’t know how he felt about the issue. There was a war going on—a war the likes of which he could hardly comprehend. Harsh measures wouldn’t have to be taken, just silence—and compliance. 

With nothing to say, Sundance mused on his own stance regarding the issue. 

“Sundance, you started out as a commoner—” 

“Nuance!” 

The colt cringed from his mother’s reprimand, but bravely continued, “As somepony who was born a commoner, with a commoner’s education, a commoner’s point of view, a commoner’s way of thinking, and now, as a baron who has only started to rule, do you think Twilight is an idiot, and if so, do you think you could do a better job than she does?” 

Before Sundance could even begin to formulate a response, he heard Princess Celestia say to her son, “Nuance, I’m proud of you, but I’m not sure if I should be.” The big mare rolled her eyes, her hooves clicked against the stone, and she heaved out a wicker worthy of her status as an alicorn matriarch. 

“Some of Prince Blueblood has rubbed off,” Commander Humblewood said. 

“I know.” Princess Celestia nodded, and looked down at her son with a troubled expression. “What am I to do with you, Nuance?” Then, she turned her attention to Sundance, her eyes warm and expressive. “Sorry about that, Sundance. Though Nuance does raise a fine point. I just wish he’d phrased it better.” 

“He’s right though.” Sundance took a moment to find the words he wanted to say. “I’m not bothered. Sometimes, being blunt and direct is better. There’s no hiding from the fact that I’m a commoner, but I’d rather like to think of it as an asset.” 

Turning away, Commander Humblewood chuckled. 

Then, as an afterthought, Sundance added, “Nuance and I are friends. Chums. I trust that whatever he has to say about me, he means well.” 

Mid-sentence, Nuance beamed, and his mother’s ears rose.

What happened next caught Sundance off guard. The princess thrust her head down until she was muzzle to muzzle with her son, her eyes narrowed, and her ears angled forwards over her face. “Son of mine, I sense great loyalty in Sundance… towards you. This is a precious gift… do not squander it. When you are older and wiser, you will come to know just how valuable this truly is. Pray that it will outlast the foolish mistakes of youth. Remember Twilight’s lessons about Rainbow Dash, and the loyalty of pegasus ponies.” 

When Nuance replied, he was solemn and somewhat shaken. “Yes, Mother.” 

“We shouldn’t keep poor Paradox waiting. She’ll explode… or cause something to explode.” Princess Celestia raised her head and turned to look in Paradox’s general direction. “But first, I wish to have a better look at these dome homes I’ve heard so much about.” 



 

Much to Sundance’s surprise, the leggy behemoth known as Princess Celestia could fit into a dome home. Sure, she had trouble getting through the door, but once she ducked her head and made her way down the ramp to the lowest section of floor, she was fine. More than fine, actually. She had plenty of room to stand, with a considerable gap between her and the top of the ceiling. 

Though the same could not be said if she stood on the split level landing. 

She opened and closed the vent above the windows, admiring the simple, yet sturdy mechanism, she checked out the beds beneath the wooden split level landing, and even spread her wings to check and see how much room she had. Nuance stood on the split level, which brought him closer to his mother’s eye level, and he was forced to duck when the princess spread her wings. 

“It’s almost chilly in here,” she murmured. “Like a root cellar. Just perfect for shaggy peasant stock.” The way she spoke made it almost seem as though she was off in the past, perhaps visiting distant memories. She was happy, animated, and seemed quite pleased by everything she saw. “So much nicer and far more dignified than crude hovels or cottages. A home such as this one could give a pony a much needed sense of pride.” 

Her hooves clopping against the concrete, she turned to face Commander Humblewood. “So am I to understand that the sod covering the dome serves a purpose? Some manner of additional insulation, perhaps? I get the feeling it wasn’t done for aesthetics. The concrete, while a bit homely, is not ugly.” 

“Aye, insulation,” the commander replied. 

“Aesthetically, the pastoral bumps rising up from the ground are pleasing to the eye.” Again, her eyes turned distant, as if she was once more gazing into the past. “I remember when earth ponies lived in burrows. I lived in one myself, for a time, during a particularly bad winter. Cosy, comfy burrows. Not dirty, smelly, disgusting holes in the ground, as some might think. But these… this”—she waved her wings at everything around her, and one might think that Nuance feared beheading with the way he ducked for cover—“this is so much better than a burrow, while retaining all of the cosiness, charm, and comfort.” 

Then, her eyes brightened and she smiled, a sunny, radiant smile that somehow brightened the room. “There were burrowing pegasus ponies too. Just like the burrowing owls that frequent this place. It was that cold… colder than the Windigo Winter. Living underground was the only way to keep from freezing. After that, some of the pegasus ponies had a preference for living belowground, and continued to do so. Something would come invading, and pegasus ponies would come shooting up out of their burrows, like angry bees from a hive.” 

Sundance nodded to acknowledge her statement, but found that he lacked the words to say anything meaningful. The mental image of disturbing a hive of angry pegasus ponies was amusing, but he kept his reaction—and his laughter—to himself. If the pegasus ponies were bees, that would make Princess Celestia the Princess Bee… or Queen Bee. When he thought about how bees vomited to make honey, the meal which they shared amongst themselves and their young, he shuddered. He didn’t want to think of the mess that ponies would make if they did the same. 

Skyla, who stood in front of the door, rubbed the side of her head with her wing. 

“Well then,” Princess Celestia said to those around her, “I think we’ve kept poor Paradox waiting long enough.” 



 

Paradox Sunflower opened her front door and then immediately stepped aside, so that Princess Celestia could enter. Anxious as ever, the young mare bit her lip, she chewed and gnawed, and for a second, her eyes met with Sundance’s. She was practically beside herself, and though he wanted to do something, anything, that might help her calm down, he knew that touching her, or trying to touch her, was an invitation for disaster. 

Unable to do anything else, he flashed her a smile loaded with reassurance. 

The doorway was far too short for a mare that was far too tall. Princess Celestia had to duck her head to enter, and once inside, she had to keep her head down low to prevent her horn from stabbing into the ceiling. For Paradox, each breath was almost a whimper; a faint sound could be heard as she struggled to contain each laboured breath she took. 

For a moment, Sundance wondered if Princess Celestia would whisk Paradox away for a private history lesson, but then… 

“I know this tree,” the princess said while turning about. “Such curious magic. This tree was astral-touched. Well, still is. I remember when it was a sapling. It had taken root in such an unsuitable place. An inhospitable place… for a tree, at least. Many things of this land are astral-touched, and I know not why.” 

“Astral-touched?” Paradox’s troubles all seemed forgotten now. 

“Certain living things gain a sort of sentience… or even sapience of a sort due to magic, but what we consider as a mind doesn’t quite fit in well within the confines of our reality, so this intelligence projects into the astral realm, where it may exist without traditional boundaries that would contain, or otherwise hold such intelligence back, preventing its development. It is a phenomenon that I have long studied, but I know hardly more about it now than when I started.” 

Unable to understand a word that had been spoken, Sundance shook his head from side to side. “I can’t even…” 

“The sunflowers here, they all project into astral space. An endless sea of them. It is my realm, my sanctuary. My refuge in solitude.” 

With a sigh, the big mare turned about, went left, and vanished from view. Paradox followed her, stepping inside, and Sundance too, passed through the door. He couldn’t help but feel that there was something that Princess Celestia wasn’t telling him, but then again, there was probably a whole lot that she kept to herself. 



 

Paradox was a pony in need of furniture, and her home reflected this. Everything was a bit bare, but it was not undecorated. Just as she had done with her crate, she had attacked everything with her sense of artistry, and even without much furniture, this space felt like home. Twinkle lights hung from the ceiling, tiny glass globes of magical light that flickered like sleepy stars. The highly-decorated crate could be seen in the bedroom, which currently did not have a door. 

“Hello, Geiger Tiger.” 

“Mreow,” the patchy feline replied, but he did not offer the princess the courtesy of opening his eyes to greet her, nor did he rise from his pillow placed on a shelf just below a window. He did purr though, and the raspy, crackly sound was for some reason alarming. 

Though Sundance could not say why. 

“The library needs filling,” Paradox said as she shuffled about, her hooves clicking against the wooden floor. “There’s a cellar beneath that hatch. Over there I keep my paints and my art supplies, and that reminds me… there is something I wanted to ask you about, Headmistress.” 

“And what would that be, young Paradox?” 

“Well, it has nothing to do with the inspection—” 

“Just ask, my student.” 

Paradox hesitated, her eyes darted about, and her ears pivoted in every conceivable direction. She cleared her throat, her mouth opened, but she did not speak. Instead, she licked her lips, cleared her throat once more, and her tail flicked from side to side. Sundance waited, and Princess Celestia did too, while Skyla stood in the doorway and Commander Humblewood paced just outside. 

“I’ve been studying Spooky Action.” Paradox blinked a few times, and her eyes were now distant. “As I play with particles, I’ve been observing some strange stuff. Anyhow, I’ve had this idea, Headmistress, and it is outside the bounds of my expected studies—” 

“Which is fine, Paradox,” Princess Celestia said to her student. “It is good to branch out. 

Taking a deep breath, the young mare picked up where she left off. “Since coming here, to this place, I’ve been a little bored. While bored, I get ideas. Weird ones. And one night, when I couldn’t sleep, when I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened to my mother and everything that took place here… I started thinking of a way that I could combine Spooky Action with my love of art.” 

The confused expression on Princess Celestia’s face was quite unexpected. 

“What?” Then, after a pause, “How?” 

“I need expensive materials,” Paradox blurted out just as Nuance shoved Skyla aside and invited himself in. 

At the mention of ‘expensive materials,’ Princess Celestia lifted her head, and her horn bonked the low ceiling. For some reason, Sundance found that the princess was looking right at him, and not Paradox, which made him wonder if he was somehow expected to fund whatever his court wizard had in mind. Geiger meowed at Nuance, resumed purring, and rolled over so that he might sun his belly rather than his back. 

“Do you remember my school project of the camera that takes a picture and that picture is a self-painting painting? So you end up with a painted portrait rather than a photograph?”

Lowering her head just a bit, Princess Celestia nodded. 

“Well, there are these crystals that are sensitive to Spooky Action. Twilight experiments with them, and so does Dim. They cultivate and grow them in the Crystal Empire.” Paradox drew in a deep breath while Nuance sat down upon the floor. “I got to thinking, if I had a significant quantity of these crystals, I could crush them into a powder, and then add that powder to paint.” 

Sundance, confused, joined Nuance and sat down on the floor. 

“I could use the same process that turned photographs into paintings, and make a picture, a painting of a sort that is also a camera, and the picture would behave like a mirror, showing the reflection of whomever is looking in—but not just one picture. With some work, I think I could connect two paintings, the two pictures through Spooky Action, using the crystal-infused paint. It would work in a similar manner to magic mirrors, though I don’t know the mechanism just yet. A sort of Spooky Action telegraph that would get two seperate frames to show the same image, which I think could be used as a communications device.” 

“Hmm,” Princess Celestia hmmed, and she began to rub her chin with her wing. 

“Right now, from what I understand, there are exactly three ponies capable of creating the magic mirrors used to communicate—” 

“Paradox, that knowledge is confidential. Do tell, how did you come by that knowledge? That is protected, privileged information. A secret of the Crown.” 

“Deduction,” Paradox replied as her ears swung back into submissiveness. “And I didn’t know for certain that it was three, until just now, when you confirmed it.” 

“Well… I…” Whatever was about to be said came out as a stern clucking of the tongue, and Princess Celestia’s eyes narrowed as she gave her student a stern glare. “Well, my student, I don’t know if I should be furious with you, or myself. Either way, I am impressed. And maybe a bit proud.” 

“I paid attention during Professor Twilight’s lessons on logical conclusions.” Paradox scowled. “My fellow students used that class to nap.” 

“Professor Twilight’s lectures can be a little… dry.” Her head tilting off to one side, Princess Celestia tapped her hoof against the floor and said, “Back to the matter at hoof. A painting that functions in a manner similar to a magic mirror. Through a Spooky Action telegraph. I suppose the crystalline paint would rearrange itself to create a moving portrait? Would it carry sound?” 

“I don’t know.” Shrugging, Paradox repeated herself. “I hadn’t thought of that. But communications seem possible. Just creative communications.” 

“You have a lovely home, Paradox. And it appears as though you’ve discovered that boredom will not kill you, as you once feared. It seems that you are rather inspired, my student. Before I leave, give me a list of everything that is needed for you to conduct your experiment, and I shall see about procuring it for you. If you can make a working prototype, if, I will arrange a meeting with the three ponies who are capable of making magic mirrors, so you can brainstorm together. Prove yourself worthy, and you too, will become an asset to the Crown.” 

“Really?” Stunned, the young mare blinked with disbelief. “You think my home is lovely?” 

A resigned sigh slipped from Princess Celestia’s lips, and when Sundance chortled, he got a stern look for it. Undeterred, he nudged Nuance with his hoof, and continued to express his mirth in bold defiance. Something about how Paradox focused solely on the fact that she had a lovely home tickled him, and he couldn't help but find it funny. 

“You don’t actually know who the three magic mirror makers are, do you?” 

These words caused Paradox’s cheeks to puff out, and it seemed as though she might go cross eyed with concentration. After a profound, extended silence, Paradox’s ears grew damp, a bit sweaty, and her mane somehow seemed even more frizzy and messy than it usually did. Nuance heaved a sigh—he sounded bored—and Sundance wasn’t sure what the big deal was about magic mirror makers. 

“I know for certain that Twilight Sparkle is one of them,” Paradox said at last. “It would bode poorly for the Embodied Element of Magic to be unable to make a magic mirror. Trixie Lulamoon’s magical talent is for illusion, and she might very well be the most powerful illusionist alive, so it seems logical that she could make magic mirrors, though perhaps through a very different method than Twilight Sparkle does.” 

Pausing, Paradox blinked. 

“Sinister Dark.” Nodding, the sweaty young mare looked up at her teacher. “When I went through my magic mirror obsession, I snuck into the restricted section of the Royal Archives… Professor Twilight told me how to slip in, unnoticed—” 

“Oh bother,” Princess Celestia interjected whilst she rolled her eyes. 

“—and after an extensive bit of searching of ancient records, I was able to confirm what I suspected. Several bills of sale for magic mirrors, made by Sinister Dark, commissioned by Princess Celestia, of Equestria, Subjugator of the Griffon Sky Horde, Purger of Pirates.” 

“Those records will have to be dealt with.” The princess went duck-lipped, shook her head, and her eyebrows rose and fell several times. 

At the mention of the Griffon Sky Horde, Sundance’s ears pricked. Vivid memories of school flooded his mind. History class had offered only a taste of the story, and he’d gone to the public library to learn the rest of it. The Griffon Sky Horde was a nation of griffons who lived on airships—they had no land or soil of their own—and one day, they made the dreadful mistake of sailing their flotilla to Equestria. A flotilla, it was said, that had over a thousand ships. 

Admiral Celestia had burned them all. 

How much was true and how much was myth was unknown, but he dared not ask. 

“Paradox, magic mirrors are one of Equestria’s great treasures. They are difficult to make, requiring the utmost skill, and production is, at best, unreliable. Twilight Sparkle has made many, but only a small few actually work. Most attempts end in failure.” A change came over Princess Celestia’s face, and her expression turned deadpan. “Even Sinister has great difficulties, and maybe one in ten attempts are successful, if even that. If you can make a device that functions in the same manner as a magical mirror, you will never have to worry about financing or resources ever again for your projects.”

A loud, throaty gulp could be heard from Paradox. 

“Magic mirrors allow for communications over long distances. Instantaneous communications. They allow us to position our fleets, move our troops, and direct our martial efforts. A single, functional mirror is priceless.” 

At last, Sundance felt the need to say something. “Paradox, the barony needs you.” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” she replied. 

“Time for you to prove yourself as a wizard.” Sundance hoped that his words of encouragement were well received. As a pegasus, he had no idea how wizards proved themselves, but as a baron, he understood that ponies needed to be inspired. He thought of Skyla, the conversations shared between them, and smiled. 

“Paradox, my beloved student, you have a wonderful home. It suits you. Tap into the magic it possesses. Listen and learn, Paradox. See to it that I have a list before I leave. Seeing as how I’ll be leaving before sunset, I really do need to continue my inspection. Thank you for having me, Paradox Sunflower.” 

An unnaturally wide smile spread from ear to ear on Paradox’s face. 

“Oh, and one more thing, dearest Paradox…” 

“What’s that, Headmistress?” 

“Please show caution.” 

“Caution?” 

“Magic of this nature, at least in regards to magic mirrors… many have lost their souls to whatever realm lies beyond the glass. Perhaps this will be entirely different, but I would be a poor teacher if I did not stress caution. There is a reason why these secrets are so guarded and this magic is not taught in school.” 

To which Paradox replied, “I understand. The secrecy makes sense. I promise that I’ll be careful.” 

“I’m sure you will.” Bowing her head, the princess’ deadpan expression relaxed, and a faint smile could be seen. “Thank you, Paradox. You have a lovely home…”
> Two mares and a feller down in the cellar
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know what the best thing about Celestia is?” 

Prince Gosling’s buttery-smooth voice caused heads to turn, including Sundance’s. The inspections had converged, with various parties now standing in front of Corduroy’s infirmary. Princess Celestia was openly gawking, her head tilted back so she could look upward at the water tank and windmill above the stone infirmary. Meanwhile, Princess Luna, the target of Prince Gosling’s slick words, gave her mate some well-deserved side-eye. 

This was Princess Celestia’s Big Day after all, with the restoration of her ancestral home, and Sundance, who had only recently become aware of the fact that Princess Luna might suffer a bit from standing in her sister’s shadow, wondered what Prince Gosling might be up to, because being mean-spirited did not seem to be in his nature. 

“What a peculiar collection of junk arranged to make something which I think might be useful,” Princess Celestia remarked, oblivious to her husband’s antics or her sister’s wary reaction. 

“The best thing about Celestia is,” Prince Gosling began, “is that she has a great little sister. And that sister, what a gal.” This flattery was delivered with a devious waggle of eyebrows, as well as a sly, slick smile. “Plus, our foals don’t fight one another and other than Aurora, aren’t much trouble at all. Ten out of ten. Would foal with again.” 

“Stop.” Princess Luna gasped out the command as her face purplefied. Extending her wing, she covered her face to hide her embarrassment, and her eyes could be seen flashing like provoked thunderheads from between her splayed-out primaries. 

As for Sundance, he stood awestruck, left dumb by what he’d just witnessed. He’d just learned something, though he wasn’t sure what. Something profound. This was, indeed, Princess Celestia’s Big Day, and Prince Gosling, with but a few well-said words, had just ensured that Princess Luna also felt special, that she wasn’t left out. It felt sincere, heartfelt, and Sundance now was left with an awkward feeling from having witnessed it. 

There was flirting, and then there was this, whatever this was. 

“Daddy, you hafta stop.” Hailstone, her feathers fluffed out, interposed herself between her parents. “Mama’s flustered. She looks like a grape.” Perhaps alarmed by her own description, she added, “Don’tchu squeeze her till the juice comes out!” 

A weak, wheezy chuckle could be heard, and it took Sundance a moment to realise that Steadfast was laughing. The colt was currently resting on a blanket spread over the grass near Corduroy’s door. Aurora was sitting beside him, yawning, utterly unaware of the flirtatious antics of her parents. Hailstone stood her ground though, a teeny, tiny thing compared to her parents, who were giants among ponies. 

“Is this… is this a pony-powered laundry machine?” Princess Celestia lifted one long, delicate leg and pointed at the wooden wheel, which a pony could run inside. Then, leveling her gaze in Prince Gosling’s general direction, she said, “So I have the troublesome foals. Noted.” Then, rolling her eyes, she returned her attention to the collection of pulleys, belts, and gears that somehow made the pony-powered machine function. “This is clever. Laundry is an important step in basic sanitation. Astounding.” 

Still hiding behind her wing, Princess Luna asked, “What, pray tell, brought about this flattery?” 

“I sensed a bit of sadness,” was Prince Gosling’s honest and forthright answer. 

“Well, you’ve done your job. I am happy once more and all is well.” The Princess of the Night pulled her wing away from her face, and looked down at Hailstone, who stood her ground. A wry smile appeared on her face, like the moon peeking though the clouds, and some of the intense purple colouration faded a bit. 

“There is a place that I feel that we should inspect together,” said Princess Celestia as she drew her attention away from the pony-powered laundry device. “Sister, I would like it if you would accompany me. There is a cellar that I would like for you to see. Will you join me?” 

“I would like that,” replied Princess Luna. 

“Goose can be trusted with the foals. Even the troublesome ones he was so eager to create.” The deadpan words from the Princess of the Day caused Prince Gosling’s ears to stand at attention, like two eager soldiers seeking praise. “He’s not the only one who can make you feel better, Luna. There is something that I think you’ll quite like to see. I’m told that it’s been restored and cleaned up a bit.” 

At the mention of the cellar, Sundance had an idea. He had a most wonderful, most fantastic idea. His eyes darted to Steadfast, then to Princess Luna, and then back to Steadfast once more. A temperature controlled cellar might just be an ideal place for a mother with a sick son to retreat. It was private, quiet, and by Sundance’s own reckoning, a secure, safe place. Princess Luna could come and go as she pleased, without trouble, fuss, or fanfare. 

Not wanting to spoil the moment between the two sisters, Sundance maintained his silence. 



 

Not even a hint of vinegary stench remained. The air was cool, pleasant, and easy on the lungs. Coming down the brand-new stairs, Sundance followed the two sisters, and it was just the three of them. Vivid memories of coming down here to rescue Amber Dawn flitted through his mind, and he could not help but feel that this was now a wholly different place now that it was cleaned up. 

The hoist to raise and lower goods stood ready. 

At the bottom of the stairs, it was downright chilly, as the frigid air has settled on the floor. It was almost shivery cold, and Sundance was thankful for his wings, which kept his sides warm. Shod in precious metals, the two sisters caused eerie, melodic chimes to go rebounding up and down the hallways with each step they took. 

It did not take them long to reach the hallway with the smooth curve that so impressed Sundance, and they crossed the barrier into warmer air. The floors were spotless, free of muck, filth, and sludge. Together, the trio rounded the graceful curve, and Princess Luna was the first to step into the round, domed room with the mosaic of the two sisters overhead. 

A soft gasp could be heard as the Princess of the Night stood slack-jawed, her head tilted back so that she might look up. Princess Celestia placed a wing over her sister’s back, and Sundance, watching them both, kept a respectful distance. All of the old, rotten furniture was gone, but the immense stone table remained. A few of the old tapestries had somehow been restored, and Sundance suspected that magic made preserving them possible. 

Above him, the mosaic that covered the entirety of the domed ceiling was now a vivid, vibrant thing, scrubbed, cleaned, and restored. No trace of mildew or black rot could be seen in the grout between the tiles, it was a clean, neutral faded grey. With the grime scoured away, Princess Luna was especially beautiful, with many of her blue tiles faintly iridescent and glittery. She looked as though she was full of twinkling stars. 

“I made this,” said Princess Celestia as she made a sweeping gesture with her wing at the ceiling above. “Each and every tile was placed with the utmost care. This was my refuge. My retreat. Many hours were spent here, lost in drink. But I was also productive here. Often, this was my war room, the place where I planned Equestria’s defense. I prepared for your return, dear sister, and not as my enemy. You needed a place to come home to, a place to recover. It became one of my many motivations.” 

Folding her wing against her side, the Princess of the Day continued, “This was a place of many firsts. It was where I began my studies into animancy, in earnest. In this very room was my very first Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. Many treaties were signed here, ushering in whole new eras of peace and prosperity. The very first mutual assistance pact between Equestria and Fancy was signed on that very table.” 

The big white mare sighed. “Alas, a nation cannot be run from a cellar, no matter how splendid it might be. This barony was a provincial place, while Canterlot was a city of light and wonder. Sadly, this place fell into disrepair, and was all but forgotten. The curious nature of a filly restored this place to memory. And so, here we are. Look upon my artistic endeavours, dear sister.” 

“You made yourself quite thin and slender, dear sister,” Princess Luna said to her sibling. “A little less plump in the rump.” 

There was a heavy sigh from Princess Celestia as she slipped her wing around her sister’s neck and squeezed. Sundance backed away, retreating, and his backside bumped into warm stone. He thought about leaving, but feared his departure might cause a disturbance. Why was he even here, he wondered. This was a private moment, and he had no business here. Yet, for whatever reason, Princess Celestia had insisted that he come along. 

It was one thing among many that he did not understand. 

“As we go forward, we go backward. Equestria’s past shapes its future.” Pulling her wing away from her sister’s neck, Princess Celestia whirled around to face Sundance with a swift, sudden motion. “We return to a system of baronies. Little by little, the nobility is restored, made useful again, and repurposed. The stagnation that plagued us is cleared away little by little. Lulamoon Hollow has been restored with a just, rightful ruler, and now, the Sunfire Barony rises like the glorious dawn.” 

Waiting, unsure of what to say, Sundance maintained his silence. 

“Much has been given to you, Sundance. But with a price. Great things are expected of you. With this land, much was accomplished. Blessed with the resources from this land, Equestria rose to prominence.” The princess’ gaze took on a piercing intensity. “What will you do with it, I wonder?” 

“What would you like for me to do with it?” Sundance responded. “These are your lands. I am a caretaker—” 

“You think yourself a steward?” Taking a single step forward, Princess Celestia looked down at Sundance. Shaking her head from side to side, she clucked her tongue. “The land does not come to life for stewards. Do you not feel it? The very ebb and flow of life. It streams from the rocks, the water, the soil; it is magic and so much more. Honestly, I thought the magic I once knew in this place had gone dry, like a spring that no longer gives water. But I was wrong… so very wrong. I merely acted as an agent of destiny. The land chose you. It chose you a long time ago, I suspect. So… what will you do with it?” 

Again, he asked, “What would you like for me to do with it?” 

With the question repeated, the white alicorn went tight-lipped. For a moment, Sundance wondered if she was perhaps disappointed, but after trying to read her face, he found no such thing. In fact, he couldn’t tell what she was feeling, but his empathy, his senses told him that there was nothing negative, no ill will. 

“For some reason, your desire to receive instruction is reassuring,” Princess Celestia said at last. “Though I cannot say why. You… I cannot sense greed in you. Even Twilight, for all of her goodness… she has greed in her heart. She seeks magical power and knowledge, and will go to extremes to have what she desires. This is not a bad thing, as her wants are tempered by her goodness. But you… you have no such motivations, and to be honest, I am not sure what to make of you. I find myself pondering at times, wondering what you might be tempted with, and how you might be led astray, because those are the things I must be aware of and take measures against—but your altruism shines like a beacon.” 

Sundance—who wasn’t entirely certain what altruism was—nodded in response. Oh, he had a vague idea; he’d heard the word tossed around on occasion, but the word had never been directed at him, so he’d never paid much attention to it. Altruism was just a word for goodness, as far as he knew, though he could be wrong. He was probably wrong. A part of him wished that he was a bit smarter, or perhaps more learned. But then he reconsidered; if such a desire were true, if it were a motivating desire, would it not be like Twilight’s hunger for knowledge? Maybe his desire to be smarter was just a way to dismiss his insecurities. 

The thought gave him pause. 

“The fact that you reflect upon your insecurities at inopportune times says a great deal about your nature.” The Princess of the Night drew closer, her eyes narrow, and her expression timelessly wise. “In dreams, I try to test you. As you slumber, I try to find the depth of your character. But then you dream of sunflowers and all of my efforts are for naught.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Why yes, I do read minds. Simple, untroubled minds are like open books left on coffee tables. Take no offense.” 

“My mind is often troubled,” Sundance said to the night princess. 

“With the troubles of others, perhaps. Your own? Not so much.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that—” 

“When my troubles became apparent to you, when you gained awareness of them, it caused a great deal of distress. It pained you. From your reaction, I would say it almost crushed you.” Brows furrowing, eyes narrowing even further, becoming little more than slits, Princess Luna drew closer until she stood almost nose to nose with Sundance. “I know about your attempts at writing, and how it inspired you towards empathy. You are a curious creature, Sundance.” 

“I just try to do good—” 

“And that is what makes you different, Sundance.” The night princess blinked, and after she did, her eyes were normal once more, held open, wide, and almost luminous. “The common pony doesn’t care about goodness. Or evil for that matter. They are concerned with existing. Paying the rent. Putting food on the table. Goodness exists outside of the realm of comprehension. For the average, common pony, goodness is the occasional act of kindness, like giving bits to a beggar, or even better, a public display of charity so that their ego might be satisfied. Even if they don’t realise it, this is what motivates them. The common, average pony is far too busy with basic survival to worry about ‘goodness.’ I see them in dreams. Their hearts and minds are known to me. I know their motivations.” 

“You brought me here to get me alone, away from everypony, so you could talk with me.” 

“Sundance, grandson of mine, I brought my sister here to show her this cellar. The fact you are here and we are talking to you just so happens to be a delightful coincidence.” There was almost a smile on Princess Celestia’s face as she spoke. “Though I must confess, I am relieved that you were able to temper your worshipfulness of me with some concern for my sister. I’ve been fretting, wondering how to address that issue.” 

Standing up as straight and rigid as possible, he addressed Princess Celestia’s words with the following: “I obey the Crown. It doesn’t matter who’s wearing it. My mother raised a Royalist.” His own words left him feeling sheepish, awkward, and out of sorts. They felt hollow, cheap, and meaningless, now that he’d heard them spoken. Fearing that he might have made a fool out of himself, he was quick to change the subject. “You know, Princess Luna, this cellar would be a good place to stay with Steadfast. With some furniture, this place could easily be a home away from home, and you could be comfortable. It’s quiet, out of the way, and private. Well, private enough.” 

Princess Luna, her starry ethereal mane waving to and fro, wafted about by unseen, imperceptible winds, stared at Sundance with a passive, almost blank expression. “As intriguing as that offer is, I find what you said previous to be quite fascinating. Many profess to be Royalists… a great many make that public proclamation… but so few mean it. And you… you feel as though your words cheapen it somehow. That saying it aloud somehow takes away from it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were more content with action than mere lip service.” 

“Saying something don’t make it so,” Sundance remarked as he looked down to examine his front hooves and to shuffle about. 

“Indeed,” both sisters said in unison. 

“I meant what I said.” He looked up at Princess Luna, but couldn’t bear the way that she seemed to be staring through him, so he looked down at his front hooves once more. “If Steadfast is sick, or weak, or whatever, it might do good to bring him here, so he can recover his strength. There’s something about the land here. I can’t explain it, but it’s been doing all kinds of weird things. You can stay here and be comfortable.” 

“While I appreciate that, I think I’ll—” 

“She’ll consider it,” Princess Celestia said, cutting her sister off. 

Forcing himself to look up, he made himself look at the two sisters. He saw gentleness, benevolence, as well as other things that he could not make out. So much had been given and he had no idea how to return the favour. Aware that she was probably sensing his thoughts, his attention focused more on Princess Luna, though he couldn’t discount that Princess Celestia was a mind-reader as well, considering that she had said that both she and her sister’s magics were merging. 

When Princess Luna’s eyebrow arched, Sundance felt his spine stiffen. She was aware; she had to be aware. It didn’t bother him, and he reached this conclusion after a moment or two of quick introspection. He had nothing to hide. No wrong had been done. Fearless, his body went rigid, he went stiff-legged, and he boldly looked the Princess of the Night right in the eye. 

“At last you come around,” the blue alicorn of the night said, almost whispering. 

“What can I do to serve?” he asked whilst he kept his unwavering gaze upon the sisters. 

“You say this without fear. Without reservation.” The shorter of the two sisters nodded, her head bobbing up and down with every syllable spoken. 

“Now that the barony is well-prepared,” the taller sister began, “your work will begin soon enough. Twilight Velvet has need of you, as I’m sure you’ve figured out. You’ve already passed one of her tests with flying colours, so more will be asked of you. Others may very well call upon you. Ask favours of you. Make requests of you.” 

“That’s all fine and good, but what can I do for you?” asked Sundance. 

“We require extraordinary things,” Princess Luna replied with a mysterious twinkle in her eye. 

“Exceptional things,” Princess Celestia added. “But I must say, we do appreciate the direct approach. While there is something appealing about a devoted servant who is clever enough to make themselves useful, there is something to be said about asking outright.” 

“With just the three of us here, in this place, buried underground, a place where magic might have trouble reaching due to depth—”

“Oh, he’s clever, sister, and he’s been paying attention,” the night princess said to her larger sibling. 

“—one might think you have something private to ask me.” Sundance took a moment to consider Princess Luna’s words. One might think them snide, or sarcastic, but he did not feel that way. No, she was being sincere in her own way, which was playful, though somewhat antagonistic. He suspected that she was trying to provoke a reaction, so that she could learn more about his emotions, and what made him tick. 

“I told you, sister.” 

“So you did, Luna.” 

What had been said, he wondered. 

“Tell me, Grandson, what do you know of changelings?” 

His grandmother’s question caught him off guard, but he was quick to recover. “Almost nothing. Why?” 

“Well then,” Princess Celestia replied. “We have more to discuss than I thought.”
> The bugs, they say, make us feel so hollow. Our love is drained, leaving a puddle that is so shallow
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bugs

Even though he was sitting in the sun, Sundance shivered. The sisters had spoken at length about bugs. Changelings. And not just any changelings, but special changelings, ones that had been modified—changelings that could now breed. Even worse, the sisters had to know his thoughts, how he felt about all of this, which made everything complicated. Yet, even knowing his mind, his thoughts, his revulsion, his hesitation, the sisters were all smiles, and moved among their subjects as if there was absolutely nothing wrong. 

The exchange—a brief one—had relayed the basic facts. Changelings, victims of Queen Chrysalis' cruel tyranny, had been modified; this left them unable to breed, and with no way to propagate their species, they faced a crisis of extinction. What precious eggs that were recovered were slowly hatched in small batches—but these eggs were almost gone. Brilliant minds had been put to work, and Princess Celestia had mentioned one by name: Doctor Honey Dew. Sundance would be meeting with her at some point in the future, but he knew not when. 

The changelings had been freed from the cruel yoke of slavery, and with the freedom to reproduce again, the final shackle of bondage had been severed. They were now a species no longer dependent upon their cruel queen. A species with an uncertain future. The sisters had made their desires quite clear: a protector was needed so that this fledgling species could establish themselves in safety. 

More would be known come summer. 

For now, he had time to think. To ponder. Time to consider. He’d been told that he could say no without worry of consequences, and while he believed that to be true, he would still have to live with himself. Even if the sisters did nothing to punish him for refusing them, he would most certainly berate himself. His sense of duty and his sense of revulsion were now at war, with the outcome unknown. 

A game of volleyball was played; a makeshift net had been set up and now, a fierce battle took place. Corduroy was among them and her long arms gave her quite an unfair advantage. No magic was allowed, just heads, wings, and hooves for the ponies present. Unicorns were at a distinct disadvantage, due to the pointy magic-dispensing organ protruding from their foreheads. A prick with a sharp horn would pop the ball, a dreadful outcome that nopony wanted. 

Drink flowed. Good Spirits had rolled several casks of aged cider out of the barn cave to serve the thirsty masses. Away in a cellar, speaking about bugs, Sundance had missed Prince Gosling making a big to-do and cracking jokes about how it was his duty to tap bungholes. Sundance felt alone in a crowd, mostly because everypony was having a fantastic time, all while he was wrestling with his own thoughts. 

“You look troubled.” 

Pulled from his thoughts, he turned to look at Skyla. She too, sat at the table, and it appeared as though she’d recovered from whatever it was that was bothering her earlier. Skyla had spent much of her time here working, which meant that he hadn't had a chance to get to know her better, at least not as much as he’d hoped. But, there was still time—like right now. 

“Feeling better?” 

“Yes, actually.” The filly took a moment to adjust her dark glasses. “I get headaches. Bad ones. For all kinds of reasons. Anxiety makes the worst ones happen. Plus, I think being away from home does bad things to me. The Crystal Heart is powerful, and we don’t really understand it. There is also the fact that I derive all of my power from the love my subjects have for me, and being away from the place I was meant to rule leaves me rather weak and powerless.” 

“That sounds… complicated,” he replied. 

“You have no idea,” she said in return. “It’s complicated being an alicorn. At least, one like me. Does it surprise you that I get headaches? Or need glasses? Do my weaknesses and my anxiety confuse you?” 

“Just a little,” he confessed. 

She drew in a deep breath before saying, “Alicorns aren’t perfect creatures. Not even my aunts. Aunt Celestia is an obsessive-compulsive introvert with multiple observable anxiety disorders. As for Aunt Luna, she cycles through personalities in much the same way the moon goes through phases and shifts. She has highs and lows aplenty. My sister, Flurry, sure, she’s nigh-invulnerable—she fulfills that alicorn stereotype—but she’s also got the brains of a brick.” 

Half-scowling, half-smiling, she continued, “I’d give anything to be as tough as my sister. She’s been frozen solid in a block of ice by ice orcs. Once, an ogre smashed her with a club. Flurry was a little woozy after that, and one of her friends, Nutmeg, beat the ogre to death with its own club.” 

“Huh? His own club? Really?” 

“Nutmeg. Megara. One of the founding members of the Wipe-Outs. Manticore spawn. Registered meta-creature. Her cutie mark is a severed teddy bear head. For some reason still unknown, Nutmeg derives strength from friendship, so she’s stronger with friends. When fully powered up, she is terrifying. You know, I think the two of you would get along together.”

Hearing this caused a soft reset in Sundance’s mind. Make friends with a manticore? He blinked as his brain balked at the very idea. Manticores were monsters. It was one thing to make friends with a diamond dog—but a manticore? Yet, clearly this manticore had friends. She even gained strength from having them. Was this a matter of his own prejudices working against him? He thought of the conversation in the cellar and shrank a bit, pulling his wings tight against his sides while his neck sagged. 

“Nutmeg is the Manticore-at-Arms for Lulamoon Hollow.” Now thoughtful, almost smiling, Skyla sat rubbing her fuzzy chin with one slender hoof while staring right at Sundance. “The two of you should meet. I sense a compatible relationship.” 

Just what did that mean, anyhow? Compatible relationship? Was this some sort of alicorn thing, or was Skyla a busybody? He wasn’t sure he liked how he was being sized up at the moment, and he’d seen that same intense expression on the face of Princess Celestia. After a moment of intense discomfort, he made peace with it. This was simply what alicorns did, he decided, and being friends with them, being on good terms with them, meant being subjected to this—whatever this was. 

Friendship with alicorns meant never being comfortable ever again. 

With a resigned sigh and a nod, he said to Skyla, “I’d like to meet your friend.” The words horrified him even as they left his mouth. A manticore? Really? What was he getting himself into? A challenging friendship, potentially. He reconsidered, thoughtful for a time, and reminded himself that being friends with Corduroy had worked out extraordinarily well. 

Corduroy was his best friend, his confidant, and the creature he trusted most. 

It could be said that a diamond dog was a pony’s best possible friend… 

So why not a manticore? 

Or changelings. 

The mere thought of alien, insectoid, shapeshifting mutant bughorse creatures caused him to have violent, spastic shudders. How many movies had he watched where the villainous changelings did awful, unspeakable things to ponies? Once, he’d watched a flick where the horrible bughorse mutants had laid their eggs inside of a paralysed pony, who was then devoured from the inside by changeling larvae. 

Which now that he thought about it, didn’t make a lot of sense. 

Changelings could not breed. Without Queen Chrysalis, no new eggs had been laid for over a decade. Sundance wasn’t even sure how long. His brain suggested that as was the case with diamond dogs, the movies played and preyed upon his persistent fears as a pony. Which meant that his fear of bugs was conditioned. Were his feelings even his own? Could hatred be manufactured? Created in some awful fear factory in the form of film strips and melodramatic radio plays? A hot sense of defiance bubbled within him, and it felt very much like a boiling mudpit down in his guts. 

But still… 

Bugs.

When confronted with his prejudice about diamond dogs, he’d slowly come around. 

“You look like you’re having a tough time,” Skyla remarked. 

“I am,” Sundance was quick to say, though he cringed at the idea of sharing his thoughts aloud. Plus, he wasn’t supposed to talk about this just yet, and a variety of reasons compelled his dutiful silence. 

“I assure you, Nutmeg is very nice.” Then, she added, “Well, unless you’re a mook. She gets that from her father. What is it with meta-equines and their innate dislike of mooks? Sunburst thinks it has something to do with their rejection of mediocrity, a compulsion made physical. My father, he’s a comic book nerd, and he says it’s because mooks are just plain unlikeable, which is why they are mooks. Daring Do says that mooks are victims of circumstance. I don’t know where I stand on the issue just yet. Clearly, mooks are a symptom of society, a manifestation of some fault in the system, and the fact that we have them suggests that something needs to change. My dad says otherwise though.” Her expression turned deadpan and her ears splayed out sideways. “Mooks aren’t just there for the meta-equines to beat up on. He’s wrong.” 

For whatever reason, Sundance thought of Hollyhock. She wasn’t a mook, not by a longshot, but society had failed her in some vague way that he had trouble putting into words. No matter what his mother might say or think, Hollyhock was a victim, a creature to be pitied and helped, so that she might get better. His mother, Officer Mom, would suggest prison, or some horrific penal colony. But Hollyhock seemed to be making the most of her second chance here at the barony, even if he didn’t particularly like her at times. He didn’t have to like her, he just had to do right by her, and so he would. 

“You know, Nutmeg has had some trouble finding a mate.” Scary, keen intelligence glittered in Skyla’s eyes now, cold, calculating cunning a magnitude greater than the common pony. “You should try dating. See if there are sparks.” 

This drew Sundance out of his stupour. “Dating?” 

“Yes.” Skyla nodded and a maniacal gleam could be seen in her eyes. 

“Dating.” This time, the word was not a question, but it was hard to say, because Sundance’s throat was a bit too dry for his liking. He grabbed the mug of cider that had been put down before him quite some time ago, and drank about half of it in one gulp. “Well, I uh… do need to find a baroness… or a baron, I suppose,” he muttered as foam dribbled from his lips. 

“I know some ponies… and even some non-ponies. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t help you find a date?” Skyla’s smile turned predatory. “I wonder how you and Chalcedony would get along? She’s blind. You wouldn’t reject somepony because of blindness, would you?” 

“Well, no, not—” 

“Excellent,” Skyla said while rubbing her front hooves together. “You know, it’s easy to understand why my mother gets a rush out of doing this. All the possibilities. It’s like putting a puzzle together.” 

Only the puzzle pieces are lives, Sundance thought to himself while he had another drink. 

“What do you want from a potential mate?” Skyla asked. 

“Somepony like you,” Sundance replied without thinking, and he immediately regretted it. Was it possible to drown oneself to death in cider? He was about to find out. Skyla was now a particularly vivid shade of pastel pink, perhaps no longer pastel at all, and she was avoiding his gaze. 

He wondered what the penal colony would be like. 

“A sense of duty,” he blurted out, trying to save himself. “I need somepony who places duty above all else. Even me.” He lifted his mug to his lips, but it was now empty, so he put it down. “I would want somepony like you, somepony prepared to put their obligations ahead of their own needs.” Pushing his mug away, he wondered if he’d ever drink again, because that was surely the cause of this catastrophic faux pas. 

“That”—Skyla’s voice was squeakier than a hinge in need of oiling—“is, uh, quite flattering. Thank you. You’re very nice.” Some of the colour subsided from her face, but not much. “When I was younger, I had a thing for arranged marriage. Flurry you see… there was a cotillion, and my sister and I both got it into our minds that our parents wanted Flurry to be with Sumac. It caused quite a kerfuffle…” 

Her words faded, but she was quick to recover. “It left a lasting impression on me. I secretly wanted an arranged marriage. A part of me still does, I think. I don’t want the stress and anxiety of trying to pick and choose. That’s a dangerous minefield that I want no part of. There are times when I think it would be a relief to hear my mother and father say that they’ve found the pony they want me to marry. I could just accept it, move on, and get on with life. One less thing to worry about. That’s just me, though. I trust my mother and father to do right by me.” 

“It would make things easier,” Sundance said whilst he squirmed. 

“One day, I will be Empress of the Crystal Empire… and my parents will go on to become more active in ruling Equestria at large. There’s a plan in place, a plan that spans whole lives. Eventually, my mother will foal again, when the time is right, and my replacement will be born, another future empress or little emperor, another alicorn groomed to rule. My life is complicated. So much is expected of me. All of my foalhood is spent preparing to rule. An arranged marriage would be one less thing for me to worry about, and I know that whomever my mother finds would be a good helpmate for my future task.” 

“But… but what about what you want?” he asked. 

“Why does what I want matter?” she replied in a cool deadpan. “It’s not a matter of what I want. What I want is irrelevant. There is only what is necessary. You… you understand that. I sense it within you. Typically, alicorns feel this way, but this sense of duty is not exclusive to just us. Sure, I could have my way, but at what cost? How many lives might suffer because of my selfish whims? If I shirk my duties as the Empress-to-be, the ripple-effect would be astounding. How many lives would I harm? Just how much suffering would I cause? Numbers beyond counting. And that’s what it comes down to… numbers. You and I, we’re about the numbers. I sense that in you. My aunts do too. If we ourselves can suffer, and prevent the suffering of hundreds of others, we do. Is this not our nature? Am I mistaken? Have I misjudged you?” 

Taken aback, Sundance did not respond. 

“What I want,” she said, her voice low and somewhat husky, “is for us to be friends. That is what I want. We understand each other. I can talk to you, like I’m doing right now, and there is understanding. I don’t have many friends which I can do that with. Just Quiet, mostly, and that’s cause she’s being groomed just like I am. She and I, we’ve accepted our lot in life. It goes beyond cutie marks, or destiny, or whatever. Being rebellious and going against the plan would do considerable harm. It would damage lives in ways that I cannot even comprehend. On some level, you understand that. Or am I totally wrong? Did my aunts misjudge your character?” 

It occured to Sundance that his prejudices didn’t matter as much as he thought they did. For all of his fear, worry, and doubt about bugs, he knew that he would do the right thing, even if the right thing was something he found revolting and unpleasant. He would come around, because, as Skyla had explained, his own feelings didn’t matter much, not compared to the needs of others. He might not be ready to say yes to the proposal of the sisters, but saying no wasn’t an option. The cost of doing right only affected him, but the price of doing wrong would affect so many. 

Like Skyla had said, it was a matter of numbers. 

It was cost-benefit analysis applied to broad scale. 

Something about his bureaucratic nature approved of this. 

His friendship with Skyla was a necessity. It was good business. They shared something in common, a connection, an understanding that would give them unique understanding of one another. They were representatives of their demesnes, or empires, and this friendship had little to do with them, as ponies, and everything to do with the lands they ruled. It was… pragmatic friendship? A friendship that existed solely from necessity, but that did not make it any less meaningful, any less valuable. If anything, this friendship was even more important, because it would cause a direct effect upon so many lives, an incalculable number of them. 

Quibbles between them would cause great harm, so it was in their best interests to be gregarious and good natured towards one another. For Sundance, this was a profound moment of understanding into his own nature, and he wondered how his natural submissiveness played into all of this. 

“Thank you, Skyla.” 

“For what?” 

“You’ve helped me understand a part of myself. Or perhaps it could be said that I’m on my way towards figuring it out. You… you’ve been a tremendous help. Everything you’ve done here… for me… for my subjects. I cannot possibly thank you enough.” 

“Hey,” she replied with a smile. “What are friends for?” Her eyes softened a bit, and her face flushed with fresh colour. “Even if it wasn’t expected of me, I would still want to be your friend. You’re a pony worth knowing, Sundance.” 

“Thank you.” He found her words immensely reassuring, and they gave him courage. 

Courage to face the hard decisions he was required to make.
> War and statecraft
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

All days ended, even great ones. Perhaps it was this very fact that made some days so special, knowing that even the best day would come to an end. Today was an exceptional day, but Sundance could see its end. Already, the sun had dipped low, falling below the clouds that obscured the Canterhorn in the distance. The party showed no signs of stopping, of letting up. If anything, everything felt more festive now than ever, perhaps because it would all end soon. 

There was dancing and the Royal Guard Band played music worth dancing to. Sundance watched it all; he drank it all in, trying to remember every last second of it, because he knew that right now would make for happy memories—a great way to endure hard times. Sometimes, happy memories were all one had. Being poor, sometimes happy memories were the only thing that kept him going. Sundance had fantastic memories, such as going to the boardwalk with his grandmother, his mother, and his father. That was a day of fond memory… 

And today would also be a wonderful day to reminisce about. 

Nuance was a prince among his subjects. Perhaps not a titled prince, but that didn’t matter. The colt’s smile was sheer infectious joy as he danced with Quiet. There was no sign of the persistent insecurity that Nuance suffered from as Quiet boisterously flung him around. Why, Nuance didn’t seem to care that he was dancing badly; the colt danced as if nopony watched. He was bold, too, flirty, even with his parents present. 

“Sundance, I must ask you to come with me.” 

Somewhat startled, when Sundance turned his head, he saw a guardspony in ornate armor, and suspected that it was Olive. She was right there, and had somehow snuck up on him without his knowing. Without a single clank of armor. His muzzle was now mere inches away from her snoot, and he was overcome with a dizzying desire to kiss her, which seemed like a terrible idea, but he wanted to do it anyway. 

Such behaviour would be frowned upon. 

“To the gatehouse. Time is short. There is a gift for you that Princess Celestia wants you to have, and I’ve been instructed to help you get familiarised with it.” 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“Come and see…” 



 

As Sundance rounded through the doorway, he came to an abrupt halt when he saw bones. Olive—at least he suspected it was her—smacked right into him and she almost bowled him over. Her armor was hard, and something about her armored body thrilled him to no end. Now, he was distracted, thinking about the hard body beneath the armor, and also by the sight of bones. One of these things, or perhaps both, left him feeling a bit lightheaded. 

“That’s an owlbear skull,” he said in a matter-of-fact sort of way. 

“It is,” Olive replied as she pulled off her helmet and transitioned into her regular self. “Does he look familiar?” 

Sundance gulped. 

“Princess Celestia had armor made from it. The skull is a helmet and it has been reinforced a great deal. Other bones were cut into wafers, which was turned into scalemail, and that makes up the barding. There’s owlbear leather beneath the scales. It can be said that there is no finer natural armor, as the whole thing is feather light and magically strong. What you see only weighs a few pounds. The leather jack is actually heavier than the bonemail.” 

When Sundance didn’t respond, Olive shoved him towards the armor rack, which now stood in the gallery. It was vaguely pony-shaped and allowed the armor to be displayed. She shoved him again, which made his hooves scrape over the floor. He tried to contain the revulsion caused by the sight of bones and the mention of leather. 

“Go on… time to suit up. I’ll help you. Once you’re decked out, I’m going to beat you so that you might learn a lesson. You’re a flier, so we can’t have you flinching. Fliers have to keep their eyes open so that they can see where they’re going. So you’re going to have to learn to trust your armor, and not flinch when I whack-attack-smack you.” 

The sweet strains of music could be heard from outside, and Sundance wondered if something was wrong with him, because the prospect of being thumped on by Olive was thrilling. Yes, there had to be something wrong with him, because that wasn’t normal at all, wanting to be beaten up by a burly, muscle-bound mare. 

He gulped when he felt the first stirrings of arousal. 

“Do you need help?” Olive asked whilst she set her helmet down upon the floor. 

“I’ve never worn armor before,” he was quick to reply. “And wearing leather is kinda icky—” 

“Tough teats, Lord Sundance. One way or another, you are wearing that armor. I have orders.” 

Olive’s rough response made everything worse. He liked it. In fact, he liked it just a little too much, and a part of him considered refusal, just so that this could be done the hard way—because doing it the hard way sounded like fun. Sick fun, perhaps, but fun. Would she be rough? Maybe. He tried not to think about it too hard, for fear of causing something else to go hard. 

“Pegasus ponies have been wearing armor for eons. It is a proud part of their heritage. Even if they lacked the skills required to make it themselves, armor was obtained somehow. Hard armor is a bit easier to put on. This armor is flexible, and there are some complications involved with getting it on.” 

Getting it on? 

Sundance winced. 

“To put on the jack, you want to drape it over your back. Everything will hang down to the floor. Just behind the wings there are latchets you’ll have to connect, so that the top half and the bottom half come together.” 

Olive’s final two words caused an immense droplet of sweat to appear on Sundance’s brow. 

“It’s not too hard. A coat closes along one side, usually along the belly. Well, this is sort of the same, only it closes just behind the wings, along both sides. To get into the jack, you’ll have to slip the front half over your neck, slide it down, and allow it to come to rest upon your back. Also, when you secure the bottom portion against your belly, watch out for your dangly bits.” 

“Dangly bits?” he asked, hesitant, and fearful of the answer. 

“You don’t want those pinched, do you?” 

Well, maybe he did, but he didn’t dare say it aloud. 

“Well, go on. The jack will slide right off the rear end of the armor stand. If you stand over there, you can pull it right off and slide it right on to you. Get to it, will you?” 

“It just slides right off?” 

“Yes.” She gestured. “Jack.” Now she made a sliding motion. “Off.” 

Sundance swallowed. Hard. It brought no relief. Cautious, flustered, his wingpits sweaty, he approached the armor stand and tried not to think too hard about wearing the skin and bones of another creature. The thin bone wafers did make for magnificent scales though. There was a certain stark beauty to the armor, but also something blood curdling. It was almost like the armor of some warlord in an afternoon matinee. 

The skull helmet really sold the look. 

Being near the armor caused his wings to tingle in some weird way, and he paused for a moment so that he might fully experience the strange sensation. When he lifted the top flap, he was shocked by how light it was. Why, it was almost… buoyant. Was this the magic of owlbear bones? The secret to their scary speed? How could something so light be so durable? 

He slipped his snoot beneath the top flap, and using his wings, he clumsily pulled the jack from the armor rack. It slipped over his head, down his neck, and settled over his back. There was a muffled clatter when the belly flap flopped to the floor. Wearing the jack, he found it weighed almost nothing, or at least felt that way. It was bulky though, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to bend himself in half so that he could deal with the latchets. One front leg at a time, he slipped through the short front sleeves, and braced himself against the floor. 

“What a wonderful fit,” Olive remarked. She pulled a short, thick baton from a loop on her armor, and with a terrifying ‘snickt!’ sound, it telescoped into a vicious spear, which she twirled about in a dazzling display of martial prowess. 



 

It took some effort, but Sundance finally got his jack latchets secured. After some adjustments, the armor was tight against his body, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. It pinched in places, bunched up in other places, and rubbed unmentionable places in the worst way possible. It was all he could do to hold the nightmarish mental images of blisters and calluses at bay. 

The pale white bonemail rippled against his body, affording him an exceptional amount of movement. Each scale was a small leaf-shaped wafer of bone, and these slid with smooth perfection against one another. The overall effect was quite marvellous, if a bit disgusting. Perhaps the worst part of the armor was the neck, which was tight, restrictive, and almost choking. Slipping his head through it had been quite a challenge, and he wasn’t sure how he’d get it off. 

“Some grandmothers get their grandsons tacky sweaters,” Olive said to Sundance. “Your grandmother got you armor. Aren’t you lucky. Now get that helmet on so that I can beat the ever-loving crap out of you.” 

“But what would Grandmother say—” 

“Grandmother ordered me to do it,” Olive replied, impatiently tapping her hoof against the floor. “Mind the helm. It opens and has a hidden lock system. The beak part splits so that you can grab a bite to eat or get a drink without having to take your helmet off. Tuck in your ears.” 

Using both wings, he lifted the helmet from the stand and held it aloft. It too, was light, but also felt impossibly solid. He’d sunk a splitting maul into this very skull. The eye sockets were rimmed with brass, as was the opening in which he had to slip his head into. Wary, he pushed his snoot into the opening, and then shoved his head in. With a ‘fwoomp!’ the helmet slipped into place and was quite secure. How did it fit so well? It had just… sucked his head in and now clung to him like a second skull. 

There was some kind of felt lining inside of it, which grew quite warm right away. 

Peering out through the eye sockets of another creature, he found his vision somewhat obscured. He could see forwards well enough, but not so well off to the sides. Wearing the armor and the helmet, there was a feeling of power, or maybe authority, he couldn’t tell. It was something new. Olive moved into his vision, and he saw her looking at him right in the eye. 

“Now, you need to keep your eyes open. A pegasus pony flies with their eyes, I’m told. I’ve been learning to fly, so I have an idea of how important this is. If you close your eyes for even a second, you can fly off course, or smack into a tree, or suffer whatever terrible fate awaits you. So you need to trust in your armor to save your skin. No flinching. No wincing. You need to look straight ahead and keep those eyes open. Got me?” 

He nodded. 

A second later, he saw the spear swooping down, and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation. It bounced off of his helmet, and while the blow rattled his head a good bit, it didn’t hurt. While he was still processing this first blow, there was a second, and this one struck him right in the throat. It hurt—in fact, it hurt a lot, it sent ripples of white-hot pain radiating through his tender flesh—but he found that he could draw breath just fine. Though the pain was quite awful, he found that he wasn’t injured, near as he could tell, and such a blow without armor might have been fatal. 

He forced his watery eyes open, and made himself look at Olive. The first thing he saw with his bleary vision was that she was angry, or maybe disappointed. She raised her spear and began to twirl it around once more, and he wondered if this was done to build momentum, or for intimidation. Perhaps both. Her green glittery magic held the spear in the middle, and he chose to focus on that point, because looking Olive in the eye was too distracting to bear. 

The third blow came down hard just between his eyes, and he felt stinging disappointment when his eyes betrayed him, and closed. Gritting his teeth, he forced them open, and just as he did so, the spear connected with his throat again, right in the exact same spot where he’d been struck the first time. 

Never in his life had he ever experienced such pain, a pain without injury. 

“Your enemies will not relent,” Olive deadpanned, her tone frosty and without sympathy. “You will not be given time to recover, or catch your breath. They will strike the same place, repeatedly, and if you let it, it will become your weakness. Pain passes. It is temporary. Death is permanent. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” he croaked, and every breath drawn was an inferno in his throat. 

“I’m impressed. You took those hits like a champ. Now, eyes forward, and focus.” 

She was beautiful, with her grim determination as well as her vigour, and he wanted so much to impress her. If she were to notice him, to praise him again, it would be wonderful. Sundance dared to dream, he risked allowing the flicker of hope to become a flame, and this time, as he waited for the flurry of blows, he stared right at her, no matter how uncomfortable it was. Olive was a creature of fantastic beauty, all muscle and ferocious fierceness. 

“You look quite owlish,” she said. 

“Well I—” He was interrupted by Olive’s spear arcing down. 

Once more, his eyes betrayed him, but not completely. He winced, but his eyes did not close completely. Olive’s eyes narrowed, and the first blow was followed up by a brutal second. This time, she came up from down low, and struck him hard in the chin. While his protective headgear absorbed most of the violence, his skull got rattled around a bit and his skin suffered some irritation as it was chaffed by the heavy, coarse felt that lined his helmet. 

He staggered backwards from the force of the blow and fought to regain his balance. Olive was relentless, and once more, he cringed, squinting his eyes as the spear swooped though his peripheral vision. The blow upside his head that he was expecting changed direction suddenly, and the spear came down on his back instead, smashing into his spine just above his wings. He felt the back half of his body go a little numb, and his hind legs wobbled. Sure, his armor protected him from the worst of it, but it still hurt.

How was she so fast? 

She was beating him like a piñata, and he rather liked it, all things considered. 

As she brought her spear to bear on him once more, he hoped that she wouldn’t strike his legs. They were vulnerable, uncovered. All he had was his jack and his helmet. Though, looking at Olive, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to move while wearing heavy ornate plate, like she was. Then, somehow, she struck a blow, and he didn’t flinch. He didn’t squint, cringe, or shy away. Nopony was more surprised by this than Sundance, who froze up at the realisation. 

While he was helpless, Olive whacked him again, this time catching him in the side of his helmeted head. This time, he flinched a little, and she flashed a dreadful predatory grin at him, just before she caught him with the reverse stroke, and smacked him on the other side of his helmet. Sundance found himself reeling a bit—from the rapid succession of blows or Olive’s smile, he could not tell—and so he braced his legs to keep himself upright. 

Before she could club him once more with her spear, Sundance said to his assailant, “There’s music. We could be dancing. We should be dancing.” 

Disarmed with words, Olive paused. Sundance saw her eyes… they were filled with conflict, and something else. Sadness, perhaps. A purplish flush darkened her drab green face. Her spear quivered, but remained frozen in one spot, just over Sundance’s head. This might have been the most courageous thing he’d ever done in his life, and that was saying something. For all of his daredevil antics, this one felt the most dangerous, the one most likely to cause him harm. 

“The one I wish to dance with is far, far away,” Olive said. She punctuated her words by licking her lips and there was a faint rustle as her tail swished around her hind legs.

Instant regret flooded Sundance, and so he apologised with the hopes of making things better. Or, if not better, at least making things right. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve—”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, it’s okay.” The spear retracted and became a short baton once more, seemingly no worse for wear for having been used as a bludgeon. 

“I didn’t know you were spoken for,” he said, all while wondering how he’d managed to stick his hoof into his mouth. This was why he didn’t talk to mares, at least in general. His attempts only ever ended in humiliating failure. Now, the hot sting of shameful embarrassment left him sweaty in his armor. 

“It’s complicated.” Something flashed in her eyes and all traces of expression retreated from her face. “I am spoken for. As an Immortal Solar… well… I… It’s complicated. There are ponies I love dearly. They have a love worth fighting for. Which is why I am here. Love makes us do funny things sometimes. Like I keep saying, it’s complicated, and I don’t expect you to understand.” 

Sundance thought about taking his helmet off, and it was almost as if Olive read his mind. He saw her horn flare, but rather than his helmet coming off as expected, there was a click and the beak opened, revealing his face. Now, he had a clear, mostly unobstructed view of her face, and he was almost certain that if she clubbed him right now, he wouldn’t bat an eye. She was beautiful, a creature of physical perfection. He understood that many would not consider her pretty at all, but to his own eye, she was a perfect rose. A perfect green rose. 

Like any rose, she had her thorns, but that only added to her appeal. 

The fact that she could easily break every bone in his body without even trying thrilled him. She was as dangerous as she was pretty, a creature of treacherous beauty. He was staring, but couldn’t be bothered to care. This was a profound moment, and Sundance found himself lost to it. The moisture on her just-licked lips glistened like tiny diamonds, and were a perfect match to the emerald sparkles that glittered in her eyes. 

“I wish I hadn’t said anything.” 

“No, Sundance… it’s okay. I understand. You… you’ve never really been in love, have you?” 

Somehow, he did not flinch or turn away. Her words caused some pain, a discomfort that his armor did nothing to protect him from. He didn’t know how to answer, not without sounding like a desperate colt. The back of his neck was on fire now, and he could feel rivers of sweat flowing down from his wingpits. His armor would need to be aired out, no doubt. 

“I can’t make vows.” Her voice was soft, but husky. Almost gravelly. “I can’t do anything that might interfere with the most important vow I’ve ever made. That vow allows me to protect everything I hold dear. Even though it troubles me sometimes, I don’t regret it.” 

Understanding Olive’s sense of duty left Sundance melancholy. 

“Dance with me, Sundance?” 

“Are you allowed? he asked, worried. 

“It is just a dance,” she replied, her head tilting off to one side just a bit. “No vows are being made, or broken. You will be a perfect gentlepony, won’t you?” 

Before he could reply, he found himself standing neck to neck with Olive, and his bonemail scraped against her platemail. The screechy sounds were like claws or a hoof on a chalkboard, and he struggled not to react. Unlike his armor, Olive was heavy. She was weighty and solid. When she leaned against him, his front legs wobbled a bit from the strain of holding her up. Leaning in, he sniffed—he couldn’t help himself—and was left intoxicated by her scent. 

She smelled of leather, steel, and some sort of oily smell, perhaps armor polish. Nothing about her smelled feminine, except for the faint hint of musk, which Sundance couldn’t be certain if he was actually smelling, or if his imagination was a bit too overactive. She swayed against him, her armor scraping nastily against his, and so he swayed against her in return. 

It was at this moment that Sundance knew what he wanted from a mare. Or, at least, he had a better idea. A better understanding. As he stood there, neck to neck with Olive, the most deliciously perverse thoughts flapped through the depths of his mind, like reprehensible reprobate bats flooding into the dark caverns of his thoughts to roost. He imagined resting his chin just on top of her head, just between her ears, and how her well-muscled body would move beneath him. 

Or better still, how that well-muscled body might dominate him. 

It was almost shiver-inducing. 

One of Olive’s ears flickered and he heard her sigh. It was a sad sound, and he regretted that this was a sorrowful dance. Some—though not all—of his secret perversion abandoned him, and he found himself contemplating Olive’s troubles, even though he was unaware of what they were, what they might be. Was there something he might say to her? Should he remain silent? Did mares truly appreciate the strong silent type? 

“Well, this is quite a sight.” 

Sundance felt Olive go rigid against him at the sound of Princess Celestia’s voice and his own sense of alarm caused his heart to leap up into his throat. This was an unexpected outcome. So, this is what getting caught felt like. Sundance added it to his list of new experiences with the intention of reflecting upon it later. 

If there was a later. 

He was necking with one of Princess Celestia’s Immortal Solars… 

“I came up to see what progress had been made,” the princess said. 

“And you were very, very quiet about it,” Olive replied. 

“Well, of course. I like catching my little ponies in unexpected, sometimes compromising situations and positions. If I made noise, they’d know I was coming and where’s the fun in that?” 

“Indeed.” Olive, still neck-to-neck with Sundance, asked, “Am I in trouble?” 

“Goodness no. By all means, do continue with this unusual means of basic armor training. I’ll watch.” 

Cold, icy sweat now soaked Sundance’s belly. He couldn’t tell if the princess was sarcastic, or angry, or amused. However she felt about this was unknown. Olive gulped, and a second later, he found himself doing the same. Clammy terror soaked his wingpits and dampened his dock. Between his hind legs, hidden beneath his armor, something stirred with terrousal. 

“Grandson, please, do try to not be so wooden. Only one part of the body should be stiff right now. Everything else should be left flexible.” 

“Oh no,” Olive murmured. “No, this can’t be happening.” 

Sundance felt the left side of his face twist and contort as his mind processed his grandmother’s ever-so-helpful advice. His legs and his body were no longer on speaking terms, and he found that he could not move. Even if he wanted to run away, which a part of him did, with his legs on strike he didn’t stand a chance. 

“I have never seen dancing this bad.” Clucking her tongue, the princess’ head shook from side to side with disapproval. “Forget basic armor training, a quick dancing lesson is in order.” 

With Olive’s silence, Sundance realised the response, whatever it might be, would have to come from him. His tongue failed him, and so did the perverted bats swirling around in his mind, as they all fled back to whatever dark cavern from whence they originated. He wondered if Olive could refuse the princess, and concluded that she probably couldn’t. Vows were dangerous. 

“Come now.” She clucked her tongue once more, a true schoolmarm to her very core. “Time is short. We’ll be departing soon. Move closer together. Fillies don’t have cooties, Sundance. Go on. You’re a pegasus. Touch her with your wings, but mind the tickle. A little giggling will leave her cheeks rosy and warm—perfect for kissing.” 

“Uh—” 

“Sundance, do as I say. Right now, I am teaching you statecraft. What if you are at a formal dinner of some kind, and you are expected to dance? I’ll not have you make a fool out of yourself. Dancefloor diplomacy has long been a strategic asset for my descendents. Immortal Solar Olive will make for a fine training dummy.” 

A weak snort escaped from Olive. 

“I don’t know about this—” 

“Sundance… one day, you will want to woo a mare. You will want to approach her, speak to her, and maybe even touch her”—the overbearing princess paused for a time, almost smiling, before she continued—“but you don’t want her pressing charges. What would your mother say?” 

“I can’t—” 

“You can,” Princess Celestia insisted, “and you will. Now, relax a little. Slip a wing around Olive. Pull her closer. Do as I say. Tut-tut!”  

“But I…” He hesitated and found that he didn’t want to finish what he’d almost said. 

“Worried about embarrassing underwing odours?” the princess asked. “Don’t be. Right now, Olive is wondering how bad she smells too. Be reassuring, Sundance. Put her at ease. Say something kind, maybe even something flattering, but don’t lay it on too thick.” 

“I’ve never worried about dying before,” Olive muttered. “At least, not like this.” 

Extending his wing, he gingerly placed it around Olive’s neck, and made a token effort to pull her closer. It was like hugging a statue and the corded, bunched up muscles in Olive’s neck rippled beneath his wing. He could feel her embarrassed heat rising up through her armor, which was warm to the touch. Looking down, he almost died from mortification, because he saw that he left behind glistening droplets of moisture upon her armor with every touch of his soggy wing. 

“Would you dance with me?” he asked, whilst doing his best to ignore the onlooking alicorn. 

“I’d like that.” Olive’s response sounded sincere enough to satisfy Sundance. 

“Okay, Grandmother. Tell us what to do…”
> A mother's farewell
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Canterlot is nice,” she started to say, but then Princess Celestia trailed off mid-sentence and lapsed into silence. For a time, she stood there, almost unmoving, and the playful wind ruffled her pristine, perfect feathers. Her head turned to face into the wind, she drew in a deep breath that made her sides expand greatly, and her eyes narrowed in an almost sorrowful sort of way while her ears swayed in the wind. 

“Canterlot is nice. Pleasant even. But I do so miss this place. So much was accomplished here… and when those accomplishments happened, it felt as though they came at such a price. Everything felt so much more meaningful. I wasn’t as insulated from the world and my failures as I am now. Back then, if I made one bad decision, I saw it. Experienced it. I would suffer from it because I lived among my little ponies. 

“But now, I live atop a mountain, far, far away from the troubles of those below. Sundance, you have inherited this land. It is my hope that the land affects you as it once affected me. I hope that you find meaning in your struggles here. For some reason, I think I was a better ruler when I had to strive for things. I mean, I still do… I still do. But I deal with different troubles now. Now, I grapple against things unseen and push back the darkness that threatens to consume us all. 

“Grandson, you have an opportunity to find greatness where I once found greatness, and it is my sincerest hope that you will become the pony that I believe you to be. These are fertile lands, a place of growth.” She paused for a moment, almost smiled, and then she turned her head so that she might face Paradox, who stood near, an anxious, eager student who still wished to please her teacher. 

“Young Paradox, you are very brave to return here, and I hope that you will find healing. This is the soil of your birth… the place where you were meant to grow. You took that first step, which is no doubt the hardest one of all. Now, I expect for you to go on and do great things. Extraordinary things. There is nothing that can hold you back, save yourself. Do not worry about failing me, young Paradox, only worry about failing yourself. I am proud of you merely for your efforts, and this will always be the case.” 

The wind chose a dramatic moment to pick up and a strong gust billowed around the gathered herd of ponies. Sundance felt something in the wind, though what was unknown. Perhaps it was his own emotions and the wind was an external sensation that matched what he felt within. Even so burdened as he might be, he felt free right now, freer than he’d ever felt during his short life. 

He watched as the cleanup efforts continued, as things were packed up so they could be loaded and stowed away. Things would be quiet again, and maybe a little boring. So much had changed—a strong foundation had been laid—but certain challenges remained untouched. There was still a lack of entertainment, but that was a problem for him to solve. He looked up at the tall mare who towered over him, and he felt neither small nor diminished, because he stood in her shoes, at least in a sense. So long ago, she had started something here, and now, so would he. It was common ground in the most literal sense, in that they shared a connection to this land. 

“Corduroy… there are times when I feel as though I have failed you and your kind.” 

“Uh, Princess”—the diamond dog raised one paw while she shook her head from side to side—“my kind makes it increasingly difficult for you to save us and integrate us. Look, let’s not mince words. My kind would rather live in the hinterlands as primitive brutes so we might continue all of the worst sorts of practices. We capture and plunder… we take slaves. Most of us are bad dogs.” She sighed, shook her head hard enough to make her jowls wobble, and her tail drooped. 

“Which means I have to work extra hard to earn trust and show that I am a good dog.” 

Princess Celestia bowed her head for a second, nodded, and then looked Corduroy in the eye. “You, like Sundance, have a chance to do great things here. All things are possible, Corduroy. Be a beacon.” 

The gruff nurse folded her arms over her girth and said in reply, “Can do.” 

Then, to Sundance, the princess said, “You are fortunate, Sundance. A great leader is only as good as those they surround themselves with. Most of my successes come from my assistants and those I trust to aid me. Hold fast to those with honour and integrity.” Her ears pricked rigid, and a keen intelligence gleamed within her rose-coloured eyes. 

“She is my friend,” Sundance replied. “Though if I am to be honest, my own prejudices almost worked against me. I was raised to believe certain things… just like everypony around me, I suppose. Accepting Corduroy as my friend meant challenging what I was raised to believe, and all the things my mother taught me.” 

There was no response from Princess Celestia, just silence. She seemed to weigh his words, and Sundance wondered what she thought of him right now. He felt a soft touch of Corduroy’s paw against his neck, and with it came a sense of much-needed reassurance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paradox as she stared at him, though he could not read her expression. 

“Your honesty is an asset, Grandson,” the majestic white alicorn said at last. 

“I wasn’t sure I had it in me to say it just now.” 

“Still being honest.” 

“I understand the challenge though,” he said with some hesitation. “My mother raised me to believe certain things. For her, the world is black and white. There’s good and bad. For me to accept Corduroy, it meant facing the idea that my mother might have been wrong about something. That maybe she’d failed me in some way, though perhaps not intentionally. I don’t know a better way of putting it into words. After I met Corduroy, I had to do a bit of soul searching, and I’m not so sure that I like what I found in there.” 

There was a sigh from Princess Celestia, who nodded, but said nothing. 

Corduroy’s paw was heavy against his neck, but gentle. Paradox seemed thoughtful, but also weary; it had been a long day for all of them but the young unicorn mare openly showed the most fatigue, though Sundance hadn’t had a good look at himself. As he stood there and studied Paradox, Princess Celestia began to pace along the length of the ramparts above the gatehouse. There was something about watching the pearlescent princess patrol the fortifications; she seemed to be in her element in some way that Sundance was unable to put into words. 

“A darkness comes creeping all along Equestria’s borders,” she said in a guarded voice. “Once, not all that long ago, at least by my own reckoning, I depended upon Twilight and her friends to protect us from the darkness from Equestria’s long-forgotten past. She exceeded all of my expectations and then some. 

“With much of our past dealt with, I now look to Equestria’s future. This place is but one of many where I seed my hopes. There are others”—she made a cryptic pause—“which I am certain you will find out about in time. This feels an awful lot like sending young Twilight to Ponyville all over again. All these circumstances and coincidences aligning and creating situations. Once more, I find myself trusting in the good of others. 

“I am entrusting our way forward into the future with you and others like you. One of you will certainly find a way. Though I am not thoroughly convinced that there is only one way forward. What I do believe is that you will find solutions that work for this region, which I am not sure will work for other regions. Make no mistake though, I do believe in you, Sundance.” 

He had nothing to say; no words seemed adequate. 

“I must be going,” the princess announced. “There is much to do and so little time to do it. This time of respite has been most pleasant. I feel hopeful again.” She inhaled, turned once more into the gusty wind, and then said, “I must go and find Nuance, because I would very much like to have him home again with me once more.” 





Nuance was found working, much to his mother’s surprise. Working, and not just supervising. The small colt was engaged in a fierce battle to use his telekinesis to dismantle a canopy, and Princess Celestia stood by passively, with no help to offer. Nuance had his tongue out, his eyes were squinted tight with concentration, and little showers of sparks flew from the tip of his horn. 

Sundance understood why Princess Celestia did nothing, why she offered no help, no assistance. Nuance was at that age when it was embarrassing to have his mother do something for him, plus there was the fact that the colt just had a hard time doing everything. Nothing came easy for him—but at least there was valour to be found in the struggle. 

Of course, it was even worse somehow to have your parent stand there watching. 

“Nuance, darling… might I offer just a tiny bit of advice?” 

“What?” The colt, distracted, almost had his magic fizzle out on him. 

“It would be helpful if you tried turning the bolts in the other direction, Nuance. Right now, you are tightening them.” 

“Aw, son of a—” 

“Yes, Nuance? Do go on… continue, if you please.” 

Holding his wing in front of his mouth, Sundance chortled. 

“Has spending time with the soldiery improved your vocabulary, Nuance?” 

“No,” the colt replied as he tried to turn the tight bolts in the other direction. “Flurry is apt with all manner of colourful metaphors, and then there’s Dim when he goes off on a tear.” 

Celestia—no longer princessly in nature—her expression turned deadpan. She started to say something, but all that came out was a guttural croak. Not a ladylike sound, not at all. When she tried again, she failed in spectacular fashion, but hid her failure with a polite cough. Then, much to the surprise of everypony, Celestia laughed. It was a booming chuckle that could only come from a mare of such titanic size. 

Sundance backed away before his eardrums ruptured. 

“I have so missed you at home,” she said to Nuance between chuckles. “Somepony else will finish this, Nuance. It’s time to go home.” 

“I can’t,” the colt said. “Sorry.” 

“You can’t?” Celestia’s laughter died abruptly. “Why can’t you come home?” 

“It wouldn’t be right,” Nuance said to his mother. “I have an obligation to my crew. My team. My fellows. As long as they’re out in the field, so am I.” 

There was a profound silence from Princess Celestia, who fast-recovered her princessly demeanour. She stood there, thoughtful, her lower lip protruding slightly, and her nostrils flared wide with concentration. This state of statuesque reflection continued for quite some time, and with each passing second, her expression grew more and more solemn. Until at last, she extended her wing and offered Nuance a sincere salute. There was nothing mocking about it, nothing patronising. This wasn’t a mother being playful with her son, Sundance realised, but a ruler showing respect for one of her subjects. All the lines were blurred and Sundance began to wonder if there were perhaps a lesson to be learned from this. 

Nuance’s horn fizzled out completely and the faint, flickery luminescence went dark. 

“Carry on, soldier.” Her voice husky, Princess Celestia almost beamed with barely constrained pride. “Remember this with bolts: righty tighty, lefty loosey.” 

Wearing a thunderstruck expression, Nuance stood there, nodding. He took a moment to allow this new knowledge to settle in, seemed impressed by his mother’s astute cleverness, but his reddened cheeks suggested embarrassment of some sort. His eyes darted left, then right, then engaged in a shifty, shady dance as they darted to and fro to see if anypony watched. 

“Four more days, Mother. We have to take exams and tests and such and write essays about what we’ve done here. I started this, and I will finish this.” 

Sundance understood that the hardest work was yet still ahead for the young colt. 

“You’ve finally found your way, Nuance. I am happy for you—” 

“You had such high hopes,” the colt said. 

“I did, and I must have said that a lot for you to say that now.”

“Have I lived up to those hopes?” asked Nuance. 

“You have,” was his mother’s response. 

“Well,” he began, his thin barrel almost heaving, “that makes me feel better.” 

“Me too.” Princess Celestia lowered her head down until she was eye-level with Nuance. “When you do come home, I’m throwing you a party. That’s a promise. Not a big party, because I know you don’t like those. Just a quiet celebration.” 

“That’d be great.” The colt tore his eyes away from his mother, and he looked up at the canopy overhead. “I need to get back to work now.” 

“And I must be going home. Fare-thee-well, Nuance. It pleases me that you have claimed your father’s way as your own. It suits you. When you come home, I’ll be waiting.” 

Nuance’s horn ignited with a bold, fierce glow. “Goodbye, Mother.” 

Nostrils wide, her breathing restrained, Princess Celestia backed away. Her eyes were glassy and her ears couldn’t decide which position was suitable. Sundance realised that she was about to cry and it took all that she had to hold back the flood. He moved closer, then had second thoughts and gave her some much-needed space. 

“Come with me, Sundance… I would have a few final words with you before I depart…” 
> On the topic of taboo
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not long after the last ship departed, another approached. Sundance watched as it drew nearer, and mused over the idea that perhaps he should learn to appreciate the moments of peaceful boredom. Things would quiet down eventually, that much was certain, but for now it seemed, life would remain busy. The ship drifted closer, with the sun behind it, and a spectacular smear of brilliant pink-orange clouds, the herald of what was sure to be an awe-inspiring sunset. 

He stretched his wings, gave himself a gentle shake, and then returned his gaze to the distant ship. Now he thought about Princess Celestia and her departing words, along with everything else said to him. She was gone, and already, he missed her. Something about just having her around made life better. He thought of her, her departure, and could not help but notice how the sun was setting. It was the end of the day, a long, blessed day, and now came the dark sacred night. 

Whatever might happen tomorrow was unknown. 

The gatehouse was his castle—at least it was sort of a castle. He discovered (much to his own surprise) that he was still just young enough—or perhaps just immature enough—that the idea of living in a fort thrilled him. When he was a colt, he made forts out of couch cushions, chairs, and blankets. Now he had a mighty castle! Well, not exactly. He had a box canyon with a gatehouse—but at least he had parapets he could stroll along. At least, he thought they were called parapets, but he wasn’t totally certain. Sure, he was probably going to freeze to death during the winter, and perhaps bake during the summer, but he had a castle. All he needed now was a rowdy rabble of rapscallion pirates and all of his foalhood dreams would come true. 

For the first time, Sundance noticed the mooring ring atop the belltower. 

While he stood there with his eyes affixed upon the large brass ring, he had the idea that the barony really needed an airship of some kind. The railroad depot was too far away to be of much use, at least for now, and any goods that the barony produced would need to be moved. He had his sky truck, which was serviceable, but it could only carry so much cargo. An airship would be practical, though perhaps expensive to own and operate. Now that he had a castle, he decided that he needed an airship as well. 

It was good to have dreams… 



 

Sundance could not recall a time when Rustic looked worse than he did right now. Disheveled, distressed, and perhaps a bit discombobulated. There were huge bags beneath his eyes, and he appeared as though he had aged. Sundance hoped that some rest and relaxation would restore his friend; maybe a long soak in a hot spring might help. Turmeric looked a little better, but still pretty weary. 

“So,” Sundance said to his friends, “what’s happening? You left with a lot of things unsaid.” 

Rustic, his mustache sagging, stood there with a resigned sigh. He glanced sidelong at Turmeric, and after yet another weary sigh, he returned his full attention to Sundance. Turmeric strained against the sheer load he carried, which included several boxes as well as attachés, and somehow, he managed to smile. 

“Some things will remain unsaid, for now.” Rustic lifted his head, gave Sundance a nod, and then said in a thin, strained voice, “There needs to be a big talk. The future of the barony is at stake. We have about twenty four hours or so to sort things out, and the final paperwork must be turned in no later than teatime tomorrow. Clock is ticking, Sundance.” 

“Oh…” Sundance stood there, unmoving. 

“We need smarts,” Turmeric said. “Go find Paradox and Corduroy. I mean, they are your advisors, right?” 

“They are,” Sundance replied, “though I still don’t know the right term for Corduroy’s position. I mean, she’s my nurse, but so much more.” 

“Well, fetch her. And maybe some food and tea.” Turmeric looked hopeful and for the first time, his ears pricked. “Mmm, food… I haven’t eaten since—” 

“Yesterday,” Rustic said, finishing Turmeric’s sentence. “Been even longer for me.” 

“I’ll go fetch Corduroy and Paradox right away.” Sundance took a moment to consider the needs of his fatigued friends, scowled, and wasn’t sure what to do. “Go inside. Make yourselves comfortable. There’s no furniture yet, not really, and I’m not sure what we’ll do about lights.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Rustic said. “There are lanterns in the airship.”



 

Paradox whispered something reassuring to the floating globe of light to get it to stay in the darkened corner where she cast it. There were other lights she’d cast, and they all seemed just fine, but this particular illuminated orb was apparently afraid of the dark and wanted to follow Paradox. Sundance just didn’t understand magic, and from the looks of things, neither did Corduroy, who was left out of sorts after witnessing the achluophobic floating ball of light. 

Geiger Tiger sat atop one of Turmeric’s many bags and the curious beast kept watch over the contents within. Owlister—far too curious than any owl had a right to be—kept trying to stick her head into the bags to investigate their contents. The floating orb refused to remain in the corner, and with a huff of annoyance, Paradox gave up on her attempts to reassure the overly-mobile light source, which now followed her as she returned to the center of the room. 

It maintained a tight orbit around the unicorn mare’s horn. 

“Having trouble?” asked Corduroy. 

“Magic is sometimes perverse,” Paradox replied. 

“Vexatious hexes abound.” 

“Hexes are illegal and unpardonable.” Paradox’s posture turned prim and proper. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but every good unicorn lives in fear of hexes. Even the rumour of a hex can be enough to ruin one’s life and destroy one’s reputation. You can be forgiven for dark magic, granted leniency, but hexes are unforgivable.” 

“I had no idea.” Corduroy shrugged one shoulder and gestured for Paradox to sit down beside her. 

Somewhat mollified, Paradox accepted the silent invitation, sat down, and said, “Hexes are not mentioned in polite company around unicorns. The mere word alone bears an awful social stigma.” 

“Hmm,” Corduroy hmmed, her manner sincere. “I’ll keep that in mind in the future. Might I ask, what’s the difference between dark magic and a hex?” 

This made Paradox hiss like a teakettle and she drew away from Corduroy while the shivering orb of light huddled against her horn. “Dark magic comes from within a unicorn… it’s magic that is… I want to say soured. It’s more than that, but it flows from a unicorn’s evil nature. A hex”—her face twisted with revulsion—“is channeled magic. It is when you allow your body to be used as a conduit. The magic can come from all manner of vile sources, such as demons, befouled spirits, necromantic energy, free-roaming souls, and things of that nature.” 

“So hexes are external magic… which… pollutes you in some way?” 

“Correct, Corduroy.” 

“Sounds foul.” 

“Oh, it is.” 

“Could we not discuss this while I’m eating?” asked Rustic. His mustache rose and fell while he chewed and he cast a baleful glance at the source of the conversation. 

“See?” Paradox raised her hoof and pointed in Rustic’s direction. “We unicorns do not discuss this in polite company. We’re not even supposed to say the word. It’s a sort of taboo.” 

“Every tribe has taboos that the other tribes don’t understand that well,” Turmeric said to no one in particular. “Pegasus ponies have all kinds of taboos and social customs. They seem silly to me, but what do I know? I’ll tell you what I do know… I know that you don’t say that word. Unicorns raised by unicorns tend to be strict about it, while unicorns raised by pegasus ponies or earth ponies tend to not fully understand the severity of this taboo.” 

Paradox blushed, started to say something, but then held her tongue. 

“We dogs are not supposed to lick ourselves in public.” 

“Corduroy…” Rustic’s eyes narrowed, his ears fell back, and his mustache quivered alarmingly. Whatever he was about to say remained unsaid. 

No such compunction could be found in Turmeric, and he asked, “Corduroy… can you… lick… yourself… down there... I mean… I don’t want to be rude…” 

“I am very flexible,” was Corduroy’s polite reply. 

Sundanced gawped. 

“Now we’re all thinking about it.” Turmeric glanced around the room, but his eyes failed to meet Corduroy’s. He had a crazy coltish grin, but there was also a hint of guilt to be seen in his eyes. After a silly giggle, he crammed some food into his mouth, and resigned himself to silence while he ate. 





A small fire burned in the immense fireplace, more for light and good cheer than for heat. Geiger Tiger lay sprawled out on the hearthstones, and at the moment he lay with his belly facing the fire. Papers were spread out everywhere, as well as ledgers of all types and styles. In the middle of it all was Rustic, who seemed curiously revived after a meal and a spot of tea. Poor Turmeric however, was still droopy, but still somehow alert, though his eyes lacked focus. 

“Well, Sundance, I suppose now is the time to tell you what’s going on, and my plan to fix everything.” Eyes glittering with reflected firelight, Rustic smoothed his mustache while he settled back on his haunches. 

Rather than speak and cause further delay, Sundance maintained his silence. 

“As you know, you have a lot of debt, and it is spread to quite a number of creditors.” A pause, a deep breath, and then Rustic continued, “Somehow they got wind of the economic forecast of this place improving a bit, and as I told you, they had plans to become partners—unwanted partners. These are vulture capitalists… not the sort of investors you want around, because they don’t invest. They only pick the choicest bits from the carcass and their very presence makes it impossible to gain the attention of regular investors, which are the very sorts we need if we’re going to bring this place to life.

“The arrival of the vultures would’ve been a death sentence, and Raven knew it. Which is why, I suppose, she gave me early warning. Rather than help dig you out of the hole, the vultures would only offer you shovels, which are on loan, of course, with exceptional interest rates, and they’d tell you to dig your own grave. Well, I wasn’t having that.” 

“Thankfully, Rustic has a plan,” Turmeric said while he lifted up a teacup that no longer steamed. 

“Which I’ve already put into motion.” Rustic grinned, his mustache crinkled, and his ears made a sincere effort to rise from their fatigue-induced droop. “We’re going to turn the barony into a corporate entity—” 

“We’re what?” Sundance blinked a few times, and tried to process what had just been said. 

“We’re going to turn the barony into a corporate entity and exploit corporate law—” 

“Rustic, I am not so sure about this…” 

“Sundance, this is not only the best way forward, it is the only way forward.” 

“I might need convincing.” While he wished he were smarter, Sundance tried to make sense of just what was happening, but it didn’t take him long to realise that he was in over his head. He had no clue what was going on—which meant that he had to trust his friends. 

“We can turn the barony into a corporate cooperative.” Turmeric held his teacup away from his lips, but still close enough so that he might inhale the fragrant aroma. He inhaled through his nose, blinked several times, and then with renewed focus, he turned to Sundance. “We can ensure that the residents here all have an equal share of dividends… I think I’m saying that right.”

“You are, Turmeric.” Leaning forward a little while also rubbing his ribs, Rustic spent a moment staring into Sundance’s eyes before he said, “The first step has already been taken, Sundance. I’ve already secured a sizable payment on your loans, but to do so, I had to take liens against my business and myself.” 

A slow, low groan escaped Sundance, and for a second, he feared that his response might seem ungrateful. He inhaled, found no words that he could say, exhaled, and wracked his brain for a suitable response. As the pressure closed in on him, and feeling more and more self-conscious with each passing second, he finally made his tongue and his brain cooperate. 

“Now I feel that I have to commit to whatever comes next.” Then he asked, “Why? Why would you do this?” 

“Because I believe in what you are doing here,” was Rustic's unflinching response. “I couldn’t cover everything, but I did manage a majority of the controlling interest. Not too bad if I do say so myself. I’m worth far, far more than I thought. I called in some favours from my friends and clientel, many of which are investors, because investors make expeditions happen. 

“I was able to secure the interest of an anonymous investment group, which is why everything has to be ready to go tomorrow by teatime. All the papers signed. Which means we need to get this whole mess sorted out. If we don’t do this, the anonymous investors move on to the next investment opportunity—” 

“And you’re stuck with my debt,” Sundance said to his friend. 

“It was a risk, Sundance. I took it. Look, we’ve talked. I’ve already bared my heart to you and you know how I feel about what you’re doing here. This place… you… I believe in what you are doing here, I believe in this place, and I believe in our friendship. No matter what happens next, the risk was worth taking.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Almost shrugging, his muscles clenched tight, his back aching from the tension, Sundance wasn’t sure how to handle this, or what to do. 

“The future of the barony will be decided tonight.” Turmeric took a sip of tea, swallowed, licked his lips, and then set his teacup down upon the floor beside him. “That’s why we’re here. To sort this out. Together. As friends.” 

Eyes downcast, Sundance shook his head, doubtful that such a choice could be made in one night—even a full week seemed too short a time. Corduroy’s paw touched his wing and when he turned to look at her, he suddenly felt hopeful, though he could not say why. Turmeric was right; this was too big of a decision to make alone, and he was thankful that his friends were here. 

He turned to face Rustic, a friend that had given so much already, and he nodded. 

“Alright then… let’s discuss some details. If I am going to make a decision, I need to understand what is going on, and what the plan is. I don’t think you’d do this if you didn’t already have a plan to save your own neck, as well as mine, so let me hear it, Rustic. What will these investors be investing in? How do we revive the barony… and can we do it without being scumbags?” 

“Well,” Rustic replied, drawing the word out to a considerable length, “as it turns out, I do in fact have a plan…” 
> The pitch
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A rather clever unicorn, Paradox brewed up a fresh pot of tea over the small fire. She hummed to herself and seemed to take joy in her work. Paradox was his court wizard, but also an advisor, and probably held other positions that he wasn’t aware of. He hadn’t even asked her to make tea; she had done it on her own when the pot went empty and didn’t seem to mind a bit of light domestic work. It made him feel odd—somewhat squirmy—to watch somepony so important to the future of his barony doing insignificant work, yet she didn’t seem to mind. 

Rustic was silent, thoughtful, and hadn’t said much at all since he announced that he had a plan. Sundance watched him when he wasn’t watching Paradox, and he made great efforts to read his friend’s face. But Rustic was mostly mustache and eyebrows, along with squinty eyes, which made his face a difficult read. 

Meanwhile, Corduroy was playing with Owlister, and the owlette gleefully chased a length of ribbon dangled and dragged along the floor. Where the ribbon came from was unknown, but Owlister had found it somewhere and presented the trophy to Sundance. Geiger Tiger couldn’t be bothered with the ribbon, and snored near the fire. Knowing that Owlister was female had changed Sundance’s perception of his avian familiar, though he couldn’t say exactly why or how. 

“We’re not so different than Twilight and her friends,” Paradox said while she shook some loose-leaf tea into a teapot. “They were young… inexperienced… and faced with an impossible task. Just like us. Friendship sustained them. Held them together. When you think about what they accomplished, it makes our own situation seem a bit more possible.” 

“To the best of my recollection, Twilight Sparkle never battled with compound interest.” 

“Rustic why must you—” 

“Turmeric, I was trying to make a joke.” 

“Oh. I am too tired for humour. My bad. Carry on.” 

“Turmeric here is the most amazing pony” Holding out his hoof, Rustic gestured at the unicorn beside him. “He read through everything and made sense of it. Also, he inadvertently gave me my plan while he was mumbling, grumbling, and complaining.” 

“I am curious about this plan,” Sundance said to his friends. “Mind telling me?” 

“Don’t hold back on my account.” With a floating illumination orb still circling her horn, Paradox began to pour water from the tea kettle into the teapot. “I can make tea and listen.” 

“Well…” Rustic inhaled, took a moment to smooth out his mustache, and then looked Sundance right in the eye. “Turmeric had himself a moment and while I don’t recall the exact words he said, he had a marvellous idea. While having a conniption fit during his plunge into the records, he basically said something to the affect of, ‘We wouldn’t be having this problem if Princess Celestia still controlled this barony.’ And he was right. She’s a passive presence, one that exists in the background, which in a way, makes her a curse and a blessing.” 

Eyebrow arched, Sundance listened. 

“Your debtors know the debt will be paid one way or the other, but so long as Princess Celestia remains passive about this, they will make bold, aggressive moves against you. She’s worried about accusations of tyranny, and she has all of her other reasons too, so she’s not going to get directly involved. She’s counting on you to pull this off. This is your moment in the sun, which may or may not leave you sunburned. 

“So I thought to myself for a bit, and realised that we needed a princess a bit more directly involved. At first, nothing came to mind, I couldn’t think of a way to entice a princess to get involved with our affairs, all I could think of was that a princess or a prince would make for a ferocious guard dog. 

“But getting one of the royals directly involved in your business is a challenge, because as we’ve all seen, they deal with charities and ‘good’ agencies. Like the toymakers and the soda bottlers and all of the royal merchandise. Which is all fine and good, but not relevant to our interests. So I wracked my brain and I might have had a few drinks too many, when I finally had my idea. 

“And that idea was pretty good if I do say so myself. We offer Princess Cadance a parcel of land, rent free, without cost, and allow her to construct a recovery ward. Or a hospital. Or whatever it is that she builds. But we give her access to a place with hot springs, miracle mud, the works. Once we have Princess Cadance involved, she will go to great lengths to protect her interests, and nopony in their right mind will mess with us, because doing so will mean potentially annoying Princess Cadance… which means annoying Shining Armor… which ultimately means annoying their court wizard… that Dim fellow, and you don’t annoy the Lord of Nightmares.” 

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” Paradox remarked.

“Raven thought so too, when I asked her to send the proposal to Princess Cadance.” 

“You already sent the proposal?” asked Sundance. 

“Yes.” Nodding, Rustic’s ears fell backwards. “Just a proposal. Nothing written in stone. I had to work fast, Sundance. I had to have everything ready to go so I could secure a meeting with the anonymous investors. Look, it isn’t easy to get and hold their attention. They don’t wait, they’re not patient, and if you’re not ready to go when they are, they’ll just move on to the next pitch.” 

Rubbing his chin with his hoof, Sundance spent a moment considering this, and then concluded that Rustic had done right. Nothing had been given away to Princess Cadance, it was just a proposal. He thought of Skyla and all that she had said about the future that they would work towards together, and realised that this was that future. This was an alliance, and a good one. Cadance was more than a mere princess, she was the Empress. If she established a presence here, he might have some breathing room, and there might be all manner of unknown benefits. 

“Rustic…” 

“Yes, Sundance?” 

“You did right.” 

“Whew… I am relieved to hear that. Not that I was worried, mind you. Raven kept reassuring me that this was a solid plan, and I really wanted to believe she was right.” 

“So we get Cadance involved… and then what?” asked Sundance. 

“Oh, that’s easy,” Rustic began. “We follow through with my initial plan, but on a larger scale. Construct a few resorts. Take advantage of the natural resources and drum up some tourism. That’ll get us started—” 

“Started?” Pulling his hoof away from his chin, Sundance studied his friend and tried to make sense of what was said. 

“It’s just a start.” Rustic shrugged. “It gives us seed money to move on to bigger, better things.” 

Sundance asked, “Like what?” 

“That I don’t know. Anything, really. Some big impressive project.” 

“I thought letting Princess Cadance build a hospital was our big impressive project.” 

“Sundance”—Turmeric leaned forward and flashed a toothy smile—“that is how we begin. That just keeps us safe. A little tourism will give us some funds to play with, but the profits will be thin. I think it might show that we’re viable as a corporation though, if we do things right. But if we’re going to succeed, and this barony is going to grow, we need something that not only secures our future, but Equestria’s future. Something so big and so grand that we’re seen as a major player. Something that will empower us for generations.” 

Intrigued, Sundance’s ears angled and pivoted forward. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know, Sundance.” Turmeric slumped over and his smile vanished. 

“We could build an alchemical workshop,” Corduroy suggested, “but I don’t think that would be quite at the scale needed. Figuring this out won’t happen in one night, and it is a distraction. We need to focus on what we set out to do. Are we going to turn the barony into a corporate entity? My answer is yes. It’s a good idea.” 

“I’m not sold on it,” Sundance said.

“Nor I, but I remain neutral.” Paradox gathered up the teacups from off the floor, set them out in a neat row, and prepared to pour the tea once it finished a good, timely steep. “I am not set against the idea, I just want to know if it's viable. Twilight Sparkle likes to rip apart corporations, and bust abusive trusts. While we could gain Princess Cadance’s protection, we could also end up drawing Princess Twilight’s attention. One princess might protect us, the other could destroy us.” 

Head bowed, Rustic now seemed lost in thought. There was a lot to think about, and Sundance demanded that his tired mind pull itself together. If they did this, there might very well be accusations of exploitation, and that would be bad. Sundance didn’t know how to defend himself from these sorts of things, much less a whole barony. 

“Right now, corporate law is changing, but that’s a slow process.” Turmeric’s voice was thin, raspy, and feeble from exhaustion. “Corporations are still exploitative entities, for the most part, but things are changing since Twilight began her crusade. If we formed a corporation, we could exploit the laws and use it to enrich the barony.” 

“Do you have an example?” asked Sundance. 

“I do.” Rustic waved with his hoof, very much like a colt in class who wanted his teacher’s attention. “Insurance. One of the first things I looked into. All of your residents are getting older, Sundance. We could insure them as assets… I’ve already checked. They are highly skilled, at least some of them, I’m sure. Experienced. As they die off, you’ll experience asset-loss, and a drop in productivity. We can get paid for that—” 

“Oh, that’s horrible!” 

“Sundance”—voice low and steady, Rustic continued his pitch—“we’re not doing it to make ourselves rich. They’re going to die, Sundance, and that can’t be stopped. It’s like life insurance. We can sink that money back into the barony and even in death, they will provide for the barony’s future.” 

Extending her paw, Corduroy nodded. “If you look at this objectively, without emotion, this is a good idea.” 

“Really, Corduroy?” 

“Try to be objective, Sundance.” 

“Exploitive corporate law exists and so we might as well try to make it work for us.” As he scraped his hoof against the floor, Turmeric cast a hopeful glance in Paradox’s direction, and licked his lips. “Eventually, a lot of these laws will change. Maybe even go away. But while they exist, we might as well try to use them for good purposes.” 

“We can get tax write-offs. Claim business expenses. A lot of our operating costs and other expenditures can be used to claim tax credits and incentives. Every bit we get in return, we can sink it right back into the barony. Every year, those returns will snowball, and then we’ll be in a position to do some really big, really impressive things.” Rustic’s eyes roved the room, going from place to place, eye to eye, until his gaze came to rest upon Sundance. “No idea what the big project will be, but when the time comes, we’ll have the means to do it.” 

“I am having some trouble,” Sundance said to those around him, “with the whole objectivity thing.” He sighed, and then sat there for a time and watched the long, distorted shadows of his friends dance on the walls behind him. “This whole objectivity thing is impossible.” 

Rustic’s brittle mask of cynicism seemed broken now. Sundance couldn’t recall everything said, but recollected enough. Not all that long ago, Rustic spoke of sincerity; he spoke of all the fakes in Canterlot, those who did good for the sake of being seen doing good, and to drive his point home, Rustic brought up the fact that nopony really helped Corduroy or gave her gainful employment. Fearing that he would become the very thing he hated, Rustic had thrown himself at the barony’s problems. 

The emotion that threatened to overwhelm Sundance made it impossible to be objective. 

“I think,” Sundance began, “that it is easier to be objective when the fate of so many lives don’t depend upon your decisions. If I mess this—if we mess this up—then all of the consequences come down on the heads of my residents. They’ll pay for my mistakes.” 

“Well, I think,” said Paradox as she began to pour some tea into the collection of cups all sorted into a neat row, “that it is time to break with tradition and custom. All too often, we use tradition and custom as excuses so we can keep repeating the mistakes we are familiar with, rather than make new mistakes that might benefit us. Tradition keeps us rooted in the past, and we cling to it, we don’t let go of it, and it binds us in place. Of course, I grew up with parents who tried to dismiss the awful things that happened by excusing them with tradition.” 

“Paradox?” Turmeric leaned in the young mare’s direction. 

“Just my point of view,” she said whilst she made a steady, even pour. “Tradition allows us to keep doing the same things over and over. Same routine every day, same mistakes, same successes, and we’re all so tied up with tradition that it’s a wonder we accomplish anything new. Just look at what tradition has done to this place. What it did to my mother and father. What it did to me. Twilight Sparkle tried new things and look where it got her.” 

“You seem taken with Twilight,” Rustic remarked. 

“Not Twilight in particular,” Paradox replied. “I’m just a wizard fangirl. Big fan of Dim. Or any wizard, really, so long as they try something new. Sunburst has all kinds of new ideas, and I’m pretty sure that if Dim wasn’t around to sneer at ponies, Sunburst might get laughed at. The Crystal Empire outpaces Equestria in some ways, because they’re trying new things. Equestria has problems. Big problems. We’re mired.” 

Corduroy nodded. “There’s no arguing that. I’ve experienced that myself. Mister Teapot is always complaining about how long it takes for anything to change. Not a patient pony, Mister Teapot.” 

“It seems we all have our heroes… which makes me wonder if we live in fear of disappointing them,” Rustic said while his gaze settled on the fire. “Not sure I have heroes…” 

“At some point, as I settled into my new home, I committed myself to this place.” Paradox finished her pour and she sat there with the teapot suspended above the teacups. “I’m still scared. Still uncertain. I haven’t made peace with what’s happened. The only thing I know is, I believe in what Sundance is doing. But I know he can’t do it alone. So now I’m stuck sorting myself out so that I can do what’s necessary to be the court wizard that he needs.” 

Yes, Sundance realised, it was impossible to be objective. 
> Sunfire Inc.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was a strange sky. An unfamiliar horizon with no landmarks to guide the way. No sun or moon to be seen, nor stars to follow. There was only the unknown, and that was terrifying. His daredevil nature abandoned him here, as there were no smokestacks to slalom, no urban canyons to blast through at breakneck speeds. This place brought out his cautious, careful nature, and it was forced to rapidly mature, to make up for lost time and stunted growth. 

It was so late now that Owlister slept the nourishing sleep of innocents and babes everywhere. She slept with her feathered head against Geiger Tiger’s side, occasionally hooting whilst she dreamt. Turmeric had cranked back the steel cover over the skylight, and now the night imparted its majesty upon them all as they wrestled with their difficult decision—though it could be said that some wrestled more than others. 

Rustic was of a mind that the world was a place where business was conducted, and business, in all of it’s myriad of forms, was the very thing that caused civilisation to flourish. He might very well be right; Sundance didn’t know enough about the subject to refute it, but there could be no arguing that Rustic was successful in his ventures. Over time, his argument became simpler and simpler; too many creatures did business the wrong way, and it was time to show the world that good things could be done with better business practices. 

“You know,” Paradox began, “there’s somepony that we could be talking to about this… though perhaps not tonight. But I mean after we’ve committed ourselves to this. There’s a brave pony that’s already forged ahead, in a sense. I mean, there’s a different scale involved, and different ends, different goals, but that doesn’t stop us from learning whatever we might learn.” 

“I’m listening,” Sundance said in response. 

“Applejack,” Paradox said matter-of-factly. “My parents did some work for her to help them get started in Ponyville. I spent a lot of time in that orchard. Got bonked on the head by an apple once and it gave me weird ideas about gravity. Applejack told me that the same thing happened to her when I told her about it. 

“So, anyhow… Applejack runs Sweet Apple Acres, which is a corporate charity. In a sense. She’s Twilight Sparkle’s primary financier, for when Twilight wants to do one of her many pet projects, but doesn’t want the Treasury Department to send an elite team of assassins after her—”

“Assassins?” aked Turmeric. 

“It’s a joke after what happened in Las Pegasus,” Paradox replied. “Applejack, as a corporate entity, functions as a charity. Sort of like the companies that make the princess and prince pops and the toymakers. Sundance” —she turned to him suddenly— “you could go and talk to her. I’m sure that she’d have some advice on what to do, how to do it, and from there, we can find our own way, because let’s face it; nopony is doing what we’re doing. We’re on our own here.” 

“Assassins?” Turmeric sat there, somewhat startled and uncertain. 

“The worst sin a public official can commit is to spend money,” Paradox said, her words weary and somewhat slurred from fatigue. “The Treasury Department would very much like their funds to build up and become impressive imaginary numbers. Twilight Sparkle likes to spend government funds with abandon. Ponies say the era of financial conservation and fiscal responsibility are over, and that Twilight is the harbinger of the end. Even if you don’t like her spending practices, it cannot be denied that she is getting some results. Sorta. Sometimes. They’re not the sort of results that happen overnight, so they’re the sort of results that ponies like to claim don’t matter.” 

“How do you know all this stuff?” asked Rustic. 

“I paid attention when Princess Celestia taught civics class and social studies,” Paradox replied. 

“Oh.” Rustic nodded. “That makes sense. Princess Celestia reassuring the new generation that everything’s just fine and that the old generation—” 

“Needs to sit down and shut up,” Paradox said to Rustic. 

“She said that?” 

“Yup.” 

“She, uh, has a lot of faith in her little ponies, doesn’t she?” asked Turmeric. Before anypony could respond, he answered his own question by pointing at Sundance and saying, “I mean, just look at what she did with him. As I go over things in my mind, I’m starting to see the wisdom of it, I think. Not that I’ll ever be as wise or as smart as Princess Celestia. But Sundance here, he’s not a political critter. He doesn’t have good political hygiene, or practices, and such. He doesn’t believe that money shouldn’t be spent. Sundance wasn’t raised to be a career politician and his head wasn’t gunked up with the old ways of doing things.” 

These words made Sundance feel immeasurably better. 

“It goes back to what I said about tradition and custom. Repeating the mistakes that we’re familiar with. Sundance is going to make a whole bunch of new mistakes, and we’re going to make those mistakes with him. Everypony is going to tell us that we’re wrong. Which is going to make learning from these new mistakes difficult.” While she spoke, Paradox began to pace, and trotted along the length of the room. “A more traditionally-minded pony would never do this in the first place. They’d hold on to the old ways that are time-tested and proven—which can offer results, I won’t deny that. But we have a chance to do something better… bigger.” 

“A lot of lives hang in the balance,” Corduroy remarked. “Mistakes are bad enough when you face the consequences yourself, but to drag others in…” 

“Changing your position, Corduroy?” asked Rustic. 

“No.” The diamond dog nurse offered up a dismissive wave of her paw. “I’m more committed to this course of action than ever. Just reminding myself that others are going to pay for any mistakes I make. Seems like the right thing to do, you know? Mister Teapot told me that when I’m in doubt and don’t know what to do, think of others. Even if I can’t help myself, I can always help others, and that might help me in unexpected ways.” 

Sundance too, found himself pacing. He could not recall when he’d stood up, nor could he remember when he started, but he found himself moving opposite of Paradox. When she went right, he went left, and they passed one another in the middle of the room, where a pile of papers awaited signatures. Paradox was not the skittish, anxiety-riddled young mare that he knew—at least not at this moment. She was thoughtful, purposeful, with fierce intelligence in her eyes. Paradox and Corduroy were his smarts, no doubting that. Going forward, he would depend upon them more and more, and he found himself in unfamiliar territory. 

“What I am about to say is to be kept secret,” Sundance said to his friends. “You’re my advisors, so I suppose it must be alright for me to discuss this with you. This is just something to consider as we go forward with this thing we’re doing. It is going to call a lot of attention to us, I think… and that… well…” At a loss for words, he gave up and started over, because he’d flubbed his sentence in some awful way. 

“Princess Celestia asked me to help the changelings. I know very little about the details, but these changelings can breed. The last elements of Queen Chrysalis’ cruel slavery has been dealt with. But they’ll be staying here… I told Princess Celestia that I’d be happy to give them their own plot of land so that they can start a new hive, or colony, or whatever it is that changelings do. I’m not sure how this influences our decisions going forward, but whatever it is that we do, we’ll be calling attention to this fact. If we draw attention to ourselves, we’ll draw attention to them.” 

“I think you mean that they’ll draw attention to us,” Paradox said whilst she passed. “Protecting them will be paramount. Extinction is an ugly word.” 

“It’s strange,” Sundance said as he began to think aloud, “but failure feels a lot scarier now. I’ve invested myself into this place. There’s all this new construction. New houses. This gatehouse. We have an infirmary now, and laundry, and… stuff.” He said this last word with strange emphasis, because so many things had to be covered by just one word, too many things to list. 

“Feels riskier, you know? I started off with very little… and now, there’s stuff. So much stuff. And taking risks with nothing is easy to do. But risking your stuff...” 

“You want assurance against risk?” Turmeric shook his head. “Can’t be done. Risk is the nature of things. That’s why life is risky.” 

“No”—Sundance shook his head as well—“I’m not asking for that, just acknowledging that it’s there, I suppose. Or maybe I do seek assurance. Anyhow, I’m having an idea, and I think I might be willing to agree to all of this, but I have a condition.” 

To which Rustic said, “Well, spit it out, Flyboy.” 

“Nuance needs to have a share in this.” Sundance pointed to the papers on the floor. “I want Nuance to have a share in what we’re doing.” 

“He’s a colt, Sundance,” was Rustic’s reply. 

“He’s also the reason I have all that I have right now. He found his mark here, or maybe his mark found him here… he found himself. Came into his own. He’s tied to this place, just as I am. Plus… plus”—Sundance had to think of what to say and how to say it—“it will be good for us. Princess Celestia won’t tolerate even a whiff of scandal when it comes to her son. If he’s involved, we’ll be all the more motivated to keep things on the level.” 

Paradox nodded. “This is a good idea. Princess Celestia might subtly give us clues about big mistakes before we make them. But I don’t know if I like the idea of using Nuance as a hostage—” 

“I never said hostage!” Sundance blurted out. 

“Well, what else is he in this situation?” asked Paradox. 

“Not a hostage!” Sundance replied as he came to a full halt. “An associate. A partner. We’re not including him to exploit him… I was just saying that we might have a bit more motivation to do things right!” 

“This is actually a great idea.” Rustic had a shrewd look in his eyes that Sundance wasn’t sure that he liked. “If we do well, Nuance prospers. If we do poorly…” He allowed the imagined consequences to haunt them, like insubstantial phantoms that lurked in the shadows. “Sundance is right though. Nuance will be like a sort of moral canary in the coal mine. We’ll all do our very best to protect him. Perhaps more than we might do to protect ourselves. We’ll weigh our risks with a bit more caution.” 

“Hostage is an ugly word too…” Corduroy held her paws together, and tented her paw-fingers. “Involuntary asset holding sounds nicer—” 

“Corduroy!” Turmeric’s mouth hung open, aghast. 

“Sanitised language,” she said whilst she offered up a half-shrug. “Just thinking like a business-doggy.” 

“Turmeric, I do believe that was a joke. You know, something to lighten the mood.” 

“It’s a bad joke, Rustic. Now my heart is in my throat.” 

Turning about, Sundance studied his nurse and tried to read her canine face. She was tired, her face was far more droopier than usual, and her eyes were lined with crimson. No sign of a smirk, but there was something about her ears, perhaps… yes, her ears. She was somehow smirking with her ears, he decided, and he felt proud that he’d made the distinction. In the future, he’d spend more time checking out Corduroy’s ears, because just like pony ears, they could speak whole volumes. 

“It’s almost midnight.” Paradox covered her mouth with her hoof, yawned, and then said, “Excuse me. It has been a long, long day. We’re all exhausted. Have we reached any sort of consensus? Near as I can tell, Sundance is the holdout.” She brought her gaze to bear upon him, and then stood there, waiting for him to respond. 

“If we do this, what happens tomorrow?” asked Corduroy. 

After covering up his own yawn, Rustic replied, “We all fly back to Canterlot… each and every one of us… you too, Corduroy. We maybe try to perfume ourselves, make ourselves presentable, and we go and meet with the anonymous investors representatives. Which, from what I understand, are a bunch of accountants and lawyers. Nice ponies, warmer than you might expect, and chatty. We sign some papers, accept the investment, agree to terms, and then Sunfire Barony becomes Sunfire Incorporated. Or whatever it is Sundance decides to call it. Which means we all need to sort out our positions in this venture.” 

“I only ever wanted to become a wizard,” Paradox said as she sat down on the floor beside Geiger Tiger and Owlister. “Never planned to become a corporate-whatever. Chief Magical Officer? Is that even a thing?” 

“It is now,” Rustic replied. “You’re best suited to handle our magical affairs… whatever those might be. Corduroy… unless I am mistaken, I do believe that you are Sundance’s seneschal. Not sure how that translates into a corporate position.” 

“My what? Help?”

“Major-domo,” Rustic said. “The Lord’s most trusted steward and advisor.” 

“Oh.” Sundance made himself relax a bit. 

“Chief Officer of Arcane Affairs sounds better—” 

“Oh, it does, Turmeric!” Paradox’s voice was shrill with excitement. “But it also sounds wrong in some way. Like the words are out of order, or something.” 

Unable to respond beyond a shrug, Turmeric yawned instead. 

“No more debt,” Sundance said. “A clean slate.” He turned to look at Rustic. “You risked everything to give me a chance… you didn’t even give me a chance to tell you no… you just ran in and saved me.” 

“We’re not out of this yet, friend.” Mustache sagging, Rustic cleared his throat and shook his head. “I put it all on the line because I needed to believe that sincerity still existed in the world. Everything got kind of numb. When everything has gone dead, you jump at the chance to feel again.” 

His friend’s words left an impossibly large lump in his throat, and Sundance’s eyes stung something awful. It was time… to commit. “Sunfire Incorporated. A business founded on the principles of friendship. I hope I’m worthy.” 

“I hope we’re worthy,” said Turmeric. “None of this is for our own gain. We’re doing this for the betterment of this place, and all who live here.” 

“Princess Celestia said she started a nation here… it was from here that she rebuilt Equestria after all she had known fell into ruin.” Sundance took a long moment to consider his words before he continued: “Where she once founded a nation, we’re founding a business. A corporation. We’re trying a new way to do things. We’re retreading her steps, but in a new, novel way. 

“I fully commit myself to this.” He smiled and bowed his head. 

“Good,” Rustic replied. “Sleep now. Come morning, papers.” 

“Everything changes tomorrow…” Sundance’s words trailed off into a low sigh. 

Though still uncertain, Sundance trusted in his friends to see him through… 
> On grass
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------





The first days of summer…





A scruffy, disheveled pegasus rolled in the grass, wiggling and thrashing about while kicking his legs up into the air. His back itched, this pegasus, and there was just no good way to scratch the healed-over scars that went from neck to rump. Like a fish out of water, he flopped about. While this was quite amusing on its own, a nearby owl followed his example and also bathed in the dew. There was snorting and chuffing from the pegasus, while the owl hooted with great enthusiasm. 

His ocher hide? Smeared with green from the disturbed grass. A mane of noble, authoritative blue? Shaggy, unkempt, and festooned with blades of green grass. He was the baron of this barony, a regal creature, noble, majestic, and dignified—at least when he wasn’t rolling about in the grass with his royal sceptre on display. 

With his itch sated, at least for now, he sat up, squinted in the bright sunlight, and peered around him while the owl continued to bathe in the dew. Sundance scratched his lean stomach with his right front hoof, and then began to try and brush the grass out of his mane with his right wing. The breeze was warm, the sun was hot, and the day was glorious. A dusted layer of pollen—yellow and thick—could be seen on everything, and the breeze blew loaded whorls of the stuff in search of sniffly, snotty creatures afflicted with allergies. 

Even though it was early in the morning, it was already quite summery. Sitting on his grass-stained rump, Sundance thought about the clime of his barony. It was a boreal-temperate zone, which meant bitter, brutal winters, and fantastically hot summers. The temperature variance here was extreme and quite unique. Summer was upon them like a roaring dragon, and though summer would be short, it would be a productive time. 

A time of plenty, or so he hoped. 

Water was in abundance, as it was finally warm enough to thaw some of the higher elevations. Creeks swelled, rivers flowed broad and wide, and the barony’s waterfall was now a thunderous monster that bellowed echoing fury. The orchard ravine flooded slightly, and left behind deposits of black mud; once dried, it would be fertile black dirt. This place replenished itself with every turn of the seasons, and Sundance was in awe of how nature functioned, a careful continuation through a phase of cycles. 

A bone-white diamond dog wearing a patched pale green smock and a patchwork beanie went running past, barking, and in hot pursuit of a butterfly. Sundance watched his nurse; she was a majestic creature with her tongue lolling and her tail wagging to and fro. Most of the time, she was industrious, hard working, stern, and serious. At other times… she chased butterflies. Such was the way of things. 

Sunflowers turned their worshipful faces towards the sun and swayed in the breeze. 



 

“Milord, Carnation and Paradox are squabblin’ again. Thought you should know.” 

Sundance heaved a sigh, rubbed his temple with his wing, and replied, “Thank you, Earwig.” 

The burly mare grunted, squinted at the smears of green all over Sundance’s ochre hide, and then smirked as she eased in closer. “My sister and I like to bicker. Some ponies like to argue.” 

“Do you think it’s anything I should worry about?” he asked. “I mean, should I intervene?”

“Should you stick yer nose in, ya mean?” Earwig leaned in a little closer, her ears pivoted forward, and her smirk turned rather conspiratorial, as did her tone of voice. “It’s a matter of rivalry, that’s what I think. Carnation, she knows more spells… but that’s about all she knows. Paradox might not know as many spells, but she knows more about magic, and she graduated from that fancy school for gifted unicorns. What I think is that Carnation is trying to prove herself. She’s got skill, but not talent.” 

“There’s a difference?” asked Sundance. 

“Afeard so, Milord. Not sure how to explain it though. Paradox has talent. The magic she does know comes to her like second nature.” Earwig paused for a time, chewed her lower lip, and her ears pricked towards every sound that could be heard around her. “I think… I think it might be a bit like dancing, Milord. A pony might learn one or two dances, and be skilled at them. But that’s all that they do well. Now, a talented pony can do any kind of dance they fancy, Milord.” 

“Yes, I think I understand what you mean, Earwig.” 

“Old Cucumber had a talent for making pickles, Milord. Why, he could pickle most anything. Sauerkraut, she’s skilled at pickling stuff, and she can make her namesake just fine, but she don’t come close to what Cucumber could do.” 

“Hmm.” Now distracted, Sundance thought of Cucumber; fond thoughts, though sad ones. “I never knew that about Cucumber…” 

“Cucumber was never one to boast,” Earwig said to Sundance as her ears splayed flat. “There were times when he’d mention just how good his pickles were though. Which reminds me, we’re going to have a load of cucumbers this year. Record season, I think. I can’t recall when the land has ever given us this much, and it’s always had plenty to give.” 

“I can’t help but wonder what Cucumber might think of our rival unicorns.” 

“Milord, I think he’d be happy just to have more unicorns about. They got precious scarce.” 

“Hmm,” he hmmed again, a thoughtful nonverbal acknowledgement. 

Carnation Nosegay was the barony’s newest resident and a recent graduate of Canterlot Polytechnic Institute. She studied thaumagenics, a relatively new field that focused on magical bloodlines and genetic inheritance of magical traits. Sundance couldn’t understand most of what Carnation babbled about, nor did he care to learn. It was all stuff beyond his understanding, headache stuff. She often took his blood, or the blood of others, and then studied it. Carnation was fussy, a bit high-strung, and downright bitter after her wholesale rejection from Lord Sumac of Lulamoon Hollow. Sundance guessed that she wasn’t exactly happy to be here, but research was research. She had a roof over her head, food to eat, a place to study, test subjects, and more importantly, she had magic to contribute to the barony. 

“A free meal and a place to sleep will bring more unicorns,” Earwig said to Sundance, and her words pulled him from his thoughts. “They want to keep their noses in books, and that’s fine, I suppose, so long as they help out once in a while as needed. Carnation has been a bigger help than Earwax and I thought she’d be.” 

“She has?” Try as he might, he could not hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yeah.” Earwig offered up a nod that made her ears bob up and down. “She wants to show off her magic, that one, and she’s eager for a chance to show off. Now, she ain’t a pest about it… she don’t go around bragging or nothing… but she’s real… showy when she does something.” 

“A flair for dramatics?” he asked. 

“Maybe?” Earwig shrugged her broad withers. “She likes it when she’s praised. Like a foal that ain’t had much kind said about them. Double Helping is like that too. He almost gets weepy-eyed if you say a kind word about him.” 

Yet another “Hmm” escaped from Sundance and he spent a moment checking out the swaying sunflowers, which grew taller every day. He valued these chats with Earwig, who was his eyes and ears. She knew everything that was going on, and kept him informed of anything worth knowing in the barony. It’d taken a while, but she had slowly grown into the position of leadership, and no longer had reservations about her duties. Sundance hoped that they had some measure of equality between them, though she still called him ‘Milord’ and other such titles. 

“Acceptance is a powerful thing,” Sundance said after some quiet thought. “Ponies crave it. So do other creatures. Friendship, it could be said, is just more advanced acceptance. I think. More thought is required.” 

“You know, Milord, Carnation is kind of a cute one—” 

“Earwig…” 

“—all that pink and white—” 

“Earwig.” He shook his head but she kept going. 

“—and those big eyes of hers. With a bit of flattery, she’d lift her tail for you. Lots of pink to be found on the inside, to match the outside, I reckon.” 

“She’s not my type, Earwig.” 

“Well”—exasperation turned Earwig’s voice sour—“bloody buggery, just what is your type? We’re not getting no younger, yer Lordship. Most of us have a keen interest in seein’ you have foals. We’re not picky, and you shouldn’t be either.” 

“You deserve the best baroness that I can find.” 

Earwig rolled her eyes, and then bit down upon her lower lip with savage ferocity. 

“Ah, good… this time you didn’t tell me that I could take more than one wife. I’d rather not have that argument again. Like I said last time, I don’t think I could focus on the needs of the barony and a whole gaggle of mares. I’d end up neglecting something, or somepony, and I don’t want to do that.” 

“And yer a good pony for saying it,” Earwig said, her voice still curdled. “We have a pressing need, Sire. A whole lot of us will soon rest our old bones in the ground. They want to know who will look after the barony, because you won’t live forever.” 

He sighed from frustration, but then immediately felt better. Earwig could argue with him now. They could bicker and squabble and clear the air between them, and it was obvious that Earwig knew that there were no consequences, no punishments for her disagreement. It was a relief to him—a huge relief that allowed him to relax just a bit, even though he found the subject at hoof more than a little uncomfortable. 

Rather than risk silence, Earwig changed the subject: “Milord, the barony is thriving. We have good housing, more than one unicorn around to help us out with magical stuff, and all needs are met, near as I can tell. Honestly, I can’t recall when we had it this good. Not even when I was a filly. Things were run down and dreary even then.” 

“Things are nice, but I intend to make them better,” he replied. “Other than Carnation, we have no new residents. I sent the owls out on patrol to find those who travel the vast wilderness. Without numbers, we will not grow. What we need now is an easier way to reach the barony… but I don’t have a solution just yet.” 

“You mentioned getting an airship.” 

“Yes, Earwig. I have. As of right now, the barony has a clean slate. There is no debt. I intend to keep it that way.” 

“What’s wrong with a little loan?”

“No, Earwig. Just no. Rustic stuck his neck out and risked the axe to save us from debt. Things worked out, thankfully. He’s in no danger of losing his own business. Our heads are above water, for the moment. I’ll do nothing to risk that.” 

“Seems smart, I suppose, though I don’t know much about it.” 

“Rustic handles our finances. If he mentions a loan, and we all agree on it, then I’ll consider it. Until that time, nope.” He felt a curious resolve overcome him, and it made him feel good about life. Sure, he had nothing, but he didn’t have debt, either. He sighed, felt a bit lighter, extended one wing, and slipped it around Earwig’s neck. 

“Things are going to be fine, Earwig. I mean, the debt is gone. Princess Cadance is about to build a recovery ward to the north of us, in that patch of land called Tarhollow. Soon, perhaps by next summer, we’ll have tourists. I have a feeling that the transportation issue will sort itself out somehow, one way or another. But right now, there’s no need to worry about it.” 

Just as he was about to continue, he saw a flapping paper bird. He’d seen one of these before, an origami paper swan. Without looking, he knew that it had to be from Twilight Velvet. He also knew that the paper messenger would poke him right in the nose, or maybe an eye this time. His last encounter with Twilight Velvet’s messenger bird was now vivid in his memory. Earwig was utterly transfixed by the flying, flapping paper bird, so much so that she failed to even blink. 

Before the messenger could impale his face, he touched it with his wing and that caused it to unfold itself. He lifted the paper, flipped it over, held it up, and had himself a good look at the message written on a letter that could deliver itself without a postal pony.



Dear Lord Sundance:

Come to Canterlot at once and seek me out in my office. Ask around, you will get directions. Come as soon as possible and do not delay. Bring your wagon. Please, do try to clean off the grass stains and maybe pull some of the twigs from out of your mane. It is important that you make a good first impression. 

Not with me though, I’m already impressed. You have earned my trust and confidence. 

Best regards, 

Lady Twilight Velvet



“Huh,” he said aloud to nopony in particular. “Looks like I’ll be flying to Canterlot.” 
> New friends
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Patriotic posters promised victory. Confetti littered the streets and paper lanterns were still strewn between the buildings. Sundance glanced around, aware that he’d missed something, perhaps a parade or something, and all that could be seen now was the aftermath. Massive cloth banners hung from the government district buildings, some in white, others in blue, and some in both blue and white. Highly stylised images of the Royal Pony Sisters could be seen everywhere, in a variety of stunning forms. 

In a nearby window, there was a recruitment poster for the Night Patrol, which had a pegasus in gleaming silver armor that was covered in nocturnal motifs. The Night Patrol promised action, adventure, and camaraderie. Graveyard shift constables? Guardsponies? Sundance didn’t know, but he felt a curious stirring within his breast while he studied the colourful, shiny, glossy sheet of paper in the window. 

Beneath it was a smaller piece of paper with the words, Beware! The rodent menace is ever-ready! Be on your guard!

Yet another propaganda poster featured Twilight Sparkle, just a vague purple outline of her profile, but it was unmistakably her, because of the colour. Below her were rainbow-coloured letters that all-together said, Have you made a friend today? This gave Sundance pause, and he thought about the relative isolation of his barony. He had friends, sure, but meeting new ponies didn’t happen often. 

There was so much to see, but Sundance didn’t have time to take it all in. He had to go and find a building with a teddy bear statue out front. A friendly building that looked out of place in the government district. Mindful of the wagon behind him, he navigated the narrow lane and spotted the bakery with sun cookies in the window—which meant that he was close, if the directions he’d been given were correct. 



 

A massive stuffed bear statue dominated the tiny plaza in front of the Foal Services building. It sat atop an alphabet block with a duck—which was carved from solid stone. The plaza was pleasant; it had benches, a compact sandbox with a few half buried toys, and a donations dropbox protruded from the wall near the front doors. Hung from the lamp post was a sign that read, Parking in rear. 

Out of all the various government and ministry buildings, this one was the most inviting. 

But, the building itself, there was something unsettling about it. From the looks of it, it was an old building with a new facade. As Sundance stood there examining the imposing structure, he felt a strange chill and a curious tingle in his feathers. Everything seemed nice; in fact, it seemed as though the plaza and the stuffed bear statue existed to counter the unpleasant emanation that came from the building itself. 

Canterlot was an old city, ancient, and Sundance suspected that this building had a history. 



 

The lobby was a cheerful, colourful place that dazzled the eyes and stunned the senses. Sundance stood in the doorway, unsure of what to think, or what he expected. There was nothing dreary about this lobby, no typical government-standard gloom. In the middle of it all was a tremendous gumball dispenser, a towering behemoth that stood at least twenty feet tall and had clockwork innards. A gumball, once dispensed, would travel through whirligigs and thingamabobs and mechanical devices that did nothing but delight the eyes. 

When he noticed that the gum was free, Sundance was sorely tempted. 

But a mouthful of sugary-sweet gum would not be becoming. He was here on business. Still… if they had gum in the lobby, and that gum was free… surely it was expected for visitors to partake. He licked his lips, glanced around the empty lobby, and he might have wondered why there was no secretary, no greeter, but he was too tempted by the thought of a mouthful of bubblegum. 

“Lord Sundance.” 

He almost jumped right out of his feathers and something that was almost a squawk made a hasty exit from his mouth. He scrambled to recover himself, whirled about, and after a full turn around, he spotted a stern-but-friendly pegasus mare wearing a cardigan. Her mane was pulled back into a severe bun, which had several pens poking out. She wore big square glasses and there was something owlish about the way she peered at him.

It occurred to him that this pegasus was tiny; maybe half his size, but she had a dominating presence. She looked like a schoolmarm, or maybe a librarian. While he studied her, she seemed to study him in return, and it was only after several long seconds of profound silence that he began to think that perhaps he should say something, or maybe introduce himself. 

“Hello,” he said at last while his heart thumped against his ribs. 

“Have some gum,” she said. “Go on. It’s for foals of all ages.” 

“No, that’s fine. Thank you.” He did indeed feel foalish right now. 

“I’m Mrs. Oddbody,” she said. “Those grass stains are quite glamorous on you. I do believe you might start a fashionable trend.” 

“I… uh”—getting his tongue to form words seemed especially hard right now—“well, um, I was in a hurry to leave and I seem to have forgotten to… uh”—his words trailed off when Mrs. Oddbody blinked at him in her owlish manner—“I’m pretty sure I got the twigs out of my tail.” 

“Mrs. Velvet will see you now. As you are. Covered in grass stains. Without judgment or reservation. She’s used to seeing foals in a messy state… and occasionally, adults.” 

“How did she know about that?” he asked. 

“To climb the leaderboard, you are watched,” was Mrs. Oddbody’s quick reply. “The Observers are familiar with your habits. Your routines. Every morning, as of late, you come out, greet the dawn, go for a short flight, inspect your borders, mark your territory, and then when finished, you roll in the grass.” 

“Huh,” he huhed, because he lacked a better means of response. “They, uh, know about the territory marking.” 

Mrs. Oddbody’s reply was leaden deadpan: “Yes.”

Standing in a lobby for a government ministry that was dominated by a ginormous gumball dispenser, Sundance suddenly felt more than a little self-conscious. He had, in fact, forgotten to clean up a bit before his departure. After getting the letter, he was a little excited—maybe too excited. Perhaps more than anything, he wanted an excuse to fly, to go somewhere, to do something. 

“Aw”—the diminutive pegasus mare held out her wing—“don’t feel bad. Lots of pegasus ponies mark their territories. I mean, I don’t… but I am very possessive over things that are mine. Don’t look so glum.” 

“No, I…” Should he explain himself? He understood the concept of mine, as he was quite protective of things that were his, such as his barony, his peasants—yes, mine was a concept he understood. Should he tell her that he wasn’t upset about the territory marking, but about his appearance? He used to be such a carefully groomed pony. Not to the point of vanity, but his mother impressed on him the need to look presentable. 

“It’s funny,” Mrs. Oddbody remarked. “I married an earth pony. He’s a swell fellow. I had to explain a lot of pegasus habits to him. Pegasus quirks. And in doing so, I came to a greater understanding about myself. I’d like to think that all that self-realisation helped me to become the mare I am today. Don’t be ashamed of your pegasus nature. If you want to mark your territory, you do that. Only a bigot would think less of you.” 

“Uh, thanks?” He looked down at her while she looked up at him, and when he realised that she was utterly sincere with her statement, he had trouble coming up with an equally sincere response. 

“Shall I take you to Mrs. Velvet now?” the prim pegasus asked. 

“Yes,” he replied, “please.” 

“Come with me.” 



 

Twilight Velvet’s office was a spacious, yet cosy space. Rich wooden wainscotting gave the walls much needed warmth, and covered the austere cold stone. There was clutter in spaces that needed it, and cleanliness in the spots that demanded it. Several wooden cribs lined the back wall (all of which were empty at the moment) and there was a paisley sofa that appeared as though it had seen quite a number of naps. 

As for the mare herself, she was not behind her desk awaiting him, but rather, she sat in an overstuffed chair in the corner, near a narrow slit of a window. She read a casefile, a thick one, and her reading glasses were perched askew on her nose. Something about her was timeless; she was Twilight Sparkle’s mother, but she wore advanced middle age quite well, which seemed remarkable to Sundance, given the stress this poor mare must endure on a daily basis. 

“Buttermilk,” a copper-coloured stallion said from where he sat in a different corner. 

Sundance failed to notice him somehow when he came in, perhaps because the corner shared a wall with the door. Now he found himself looking at entirely new things; filing cabinets, a table with a map of Equestria laminated on the tabletop, and a fine silver tea service that curls of steam could be seen rising from. After spotting the tea service, the smell hit him, something citrusy and bold. Immediately, his mouth went dry and he wondered if he would be offered tea. 

“Lovesome,” Mrs. Oddbody replied. “Having a nice break?” 

“Yes, quite.” 

“Lord Sundance, this is my husband, Copperquick.” Then, with her wing extended, she reversed the introduction. “Lovesome, this creature in all of his grass-stained glory is Lord Sundance. But you already knew that.” 

“Terms of marital familiarity help troubled foals in tough situations,” Twilight Velvet said while she closed her casefile folder. “At some point, the saccharine title of Lovesome seemed to stick, sort of like the wads of gum that get left on the floor and all over everything. Watch where you step, Lord Sundance. Or should I just call you Sundance?” 

“Call me whatever you’d like, just don’t call me late for teatime.” This made Twilight Velvet chuckle, and Sundance managed to relax just a little. He cast a hopeful glance in the direction of the tea, and then just stood there awkwardly, uncertain if he was allowed to sit down. 

“Have a seat,” Mrs. Oddbody said. “Anywhere you’d like. We have much to discuss.” 



 

The paisley sofa was far, far more comfortable than it looked and smelt faintly of shampoo, the sweet scent of candy, and that curious powdery smell that Sundance associated with diapers. It was the smell of youth, of the very young, the scent of helplessness. He found it distracting, because it meant that enough troubled foals or foals in trouble had sat on this couch that the scent was now a permanent fixture, something that would always be there, just waiting to tickle the nose with troublesome associations. 

How many tears had been shed on this very sofa? 

“Care to venture a guess as to why you are here today?” Twilight Velvet asked while she prepared tea. “Also, one lump or two?”

“One is fine, thank you,” he replied, and then he continued, “I suspect that you wish to put that bunkhouse to good use.” 

She nodded, chuckled for a short time, and then turned to face Sundance. “I wish to give your barony its future. I have precious gifts to give you. You have shown that you are trustworthy, because you’ve taken excellent care of the last gift I gave you. Provided for her every need, you have. When Amber Dawn took a tumble down into a dark, forgotten hole, it was you that went after her. You could have just dispatched your underlings and spared yourself the bother.” 

“I didn’t find it bothersome at all,” he replied, and as he spoke, Mrs. Velvet’s face became an unreadable mask of nothingness. “We’re very close, little Amber and I.” 

“Fascinating,” Twilight Velvet said while she served the tea and passed out steaming cups. “So am I to understand that you’ve made friends with the foals in your care?” 

“I make the effort, yes.” He nodded his thanks as he accepted the teacup, which he held in his wings. “It’s real easy with Amber, but Lemongrass is a little harder. I mean, we’re friends, but we don’t have a lot in common, and I’d say he’s actually closer to Paradox, who’s been trying to teach the little guy magic. He almost worships the ground she walks on… and let me tell you, it makes his mother jealous. At least, I’m pretty sure she’s jealous.” 

All three ponies were studying him now; one unicorn, one pegasus, and one earth pony. There was something symbolic about this trinity, but Sundance was too distracted to think of what it might be. Mrs. Velvet’s face was still an unfathomable mask, but Mrs. Oddbody showed signs of thoughtful concern, while Copperquick wore an expression of curious fascination. Realising that he was the subject of intense scrutiny, Sundance couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. These ponies were all smarter than him—considerably so—and he couldn’t help but feel that he was a book to be read to them. 

“Allow me to be upfront, Sundance.” Twilight Velvet’s words were stern, measured, and still somehow warm. “I helped to pay for some of the construction… such as the bunkhouse. My daughter and I found it a worthy cause. She and I are also part of the team of anonymous investors that recently lifted you out of debt, because we believe in what you are doing. Now, I am not trying to imply that you owe me, or that you are indebted to me, but I do feel that it would be incredibly polite of you to return the favour.” 

A sip of tea was needed to swallow this information, and Sundance lacked a response. 

“Rustic found his passion… poor fellow, he was burnt out. I’m almost certain that he was in the middle of a terrible midlife crisis, and he’s far too young for that. But he has a purpose now, and happiness, and he believes in goodness and decency again. I’d like to think that the same has been done for you, Sundance. Every pony, every creature, is owed a bit of happiness, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“But so few get it,” he replied in a thin voice that almost squeaked. 

“Imagine if you could give happiness to others. Give them a sense of belonging. A purpose. And a place to live, of course. Little ones need that too, and let’s face it, your barony has a dearth of little ones.” 

“We, uh, kinda do… have… a dearth… I suppose.” 

“You are rich in resources, but suffer from foal scarcity.” Mrs. Velvet sipped her tea, crossed the room, and sat down in her chair by the narrow slit of a window. “I plan to fix that.” 

“No,” he blurted out. “No, the barony isn’t ready for a whole bunch of foals. I’m sorry.” 

Twilight Velvet’s impassive mask turned to one of intense surprise. “No? How curious. Celestia said you were a yes-pony through and through. She said that you’d jump to help me.” 

“She what?” Sundance’s teacup trembled in his grasp. “She said what? She thinks I’m a yes-pony?” 

“Celestia assured me that you’d roll right over and agree to my demands.” Twilight Velvet’s surprise turned into a shrewd smile. “So… care to tell me why I can’t populate the bunk house that I paid to have built?” 

Sundance had been thinking about this very thing lately, and had discussed it with Corduroy. He wished that she was here right now, because she could make concise, logical arguments, she had the sort of words needed to sway Mrs. Velvet—which he wasn’t sure if he could do. At the moment, he was in a state of shock after telling her no, and he wasn’t sure where his denial came from. Perhaps all the beating around the bush and flattery annoyed him, and he didn’t realise it, or maybe he’d said it before Twilight Velvet mentioned even more reasons that implied that he owed her. 

He’d said it, and now he was stuck defending it. 

What sort of trouble had his mouth gotten him into? 

“I would love to help you,” he said as politely as possible. “But there’s an order to how things must be done, and I haven’t done what I needed to do to make my barony ready for a bunch of foals.” 

“Like what?” Mrs. Velvet asked. 

“We have no school,” was Sundance’s quick reply, and he was proud of just how fast his mind conjured up this response. “We have no school. No teacher. There’s hardly any toys, or books, or things to do, and the foals that are currently in my care, they have fits and sometimes they cry from boredom. It’s pretty bad… and I don’t want to make it worse.” 

Brows furrowing, Twilight Velvet’s lips pursed into a tight, thoughtful pucker. 

“Corduroy worries that the little ones don’t have enough intellectual stimulation and that their development might end up stunted.” 

“That’s a valid concern,” Copperquick said. 

“Indeed it is, Lovesome.” 

Sundance gulped his tea, but it was still a bit too hot. It went down his throat hard, almost scalding along the way, and he had to concentrate to keep from choking or coughing. A thin trickle of sweat ran down his neck, which tickled and made him want to squirm. It bothered him that his grandmother of all ponies thought of him as a yes-pony, but it bothered him even more that she was right. He was quick to agree to her every command, even the ones that made him horribly uncomfortable, such as agreeing to help the changelings. 

“Makes one wonder how the little ones survived the bad old days,” Twilight Velvet remarked. “I think it can be said that you have the basics covered. Food and shelter. The simple needs that’ll keep them alive. You worry that this isn’t enough—” 

“It isn’t enough,” he said, interrupting. “I can give them a life, but it falls on me to also give them a future, too. Reading, writing, arithmetic… the barony’s future will be determined by what they know. I mean, sure, the barony can survive on menial labour and basic existence, but I am trying to modernise things, and everything feels impossible.” 

He watched as the shrewd mare sipped her tea, and noted her still furrowed brow. She was thinking, by the looks of things, and didn’t appear to be upset with him or his response, which was good. So good, in fact, that he allowed himself to relax a little, though some tension remained. He took another sip of tea, a careful one this time, and slurped it so it would be cool enough to swallow. 

“I’ll confess, I was in a hurry to get a batch placed,” she said. “Right now, I am juggling several projects, all of which seem to have unforeseen complications.” Her keen eyes seemed to focus on a nonexistent spot, a patch of nothingness. “I suppose it falls on me to get you a teacher.” 

“You’d do that?” he asked. 

“Seems as though I must.” Her eyes refocused on him. “If I am to do this though, I am going to place a lot more foals so that I’ll get my money’s worth from securing a teacher.” 

Sundance balked at this bit of information. “No, that won’t do.” 

“Again with the no.” Twilight Velvet now seemed almost irritable. “What now?” 

“I was schooled in overcrowded classrooms,” he said in a flat deadpan. “That is not a problem that I wish to introduce to my barony. At least, not right now. Preferably, not ever. We’re too small and insignificant as it is. Plus, there’s a matter of caretakers… if you send a whole bunch of little foals out my way, who cares for them?” 

“Well, I planned to place foals that were old enough to be mostly independent,” she replied. “Free-roaming. Able to care for themselves, for the most part, with a little adult supervision.” 

“Amber slipped away and got hurt even with adult supervision.” Anxious, Sundance allowed a little time for his words to sink in, and took this chance to think of other things to say. “The barony is a dangerous place. A wild place. It is nothing at all like the city, which has its own dangers. Where I live, a foal could end up lunch… or they could fall down an old hole in the ground. It’s not a matter of locking them up in a daycare.” 

“That’s an excellent point,” Mrs. Oddbody said. “If I may say so, I don’t think that we gave this the thought it deserved.” 

“Plenty of thought went into it,” Mrs. Velvet said to her assistant, “but we thought of all the wrong things. Sundance offers some new perspectives. Things we hadn’t considered.” 

“I know a teacher,” Copperquick said while he balanced his teacup atop the flat of his hoof. 

“You do?” Twilight Velvet’s head swiveled around suddenly. 

“I do.” Copperquick’s voice was low, almost flat, and it was obvious that the stallion held his emotions in check. “Hear me out on this one, and give me a chance to explain myself. There’s a pegasus I know, his name is Puddle Jumper. He hasn’t actually worked as a teacher for a while, and it’s killing him.” 

The copper-coloured stallion paused for a moment to choose his words carefully. 

“Mister Jumper has trouble in loud classrooms with too many students. He, well”—another pause, and Copperquick’s face grew pained—“Mister Jumper was in Manehattan when the battle to claim the sorcerer happened. He saw things. Experienced things. When the whole of his community was demolished, many of his students and colleagues died. He now suffers from a serious trauma disorder. 

“But the urge to teach hasn’t gone away. Right now, he’s going through some pretty intense counseling… including mark therapy. The urge to teach is a compulsion that he finds hard to cope with, but he can’t deal with loud, noisy, overcrowded classrooms. I think that a small, quiet classroom in a remote barony might be just what he needs.” 

“You’re the trauma expert.” Mrs. Velvet’s voice was an iron deadpan. “Do you think he can do the job, Copper?” 

“I think”—Copperquick’s words came slow and careful—“that with some support, continued counseling, some patience, and a little understanding, I think that this could be made to work. Might not be perfect, but nothing is. If he doesn’t start teaching again, I fear for his well-being and his safety.” 

“Sundance?” Twilight Velvet’s leaden gaze turned in his direction. 

Before he answered, he gave it some thought. A pegasus could fly to Canterlot, or wherever really, for counselling sessions. The barony was a quiet, boring place, except for when it wasn’t, such as the day that Cucumber died. Mostly, it was a place of quiet serenity, and tranquil enough, if one considered brain-melting boredom tranquility. 

“Mister Jumper is a primary school teacher, with a focus on general education. He still finds work occasionally as a tutor, but he finds that unsatisfying. What he wants is a return to the classroom.” Copperquick’s eyes darted around the room, until they came to rest upon Sundance. 

“I like the idea of helping somepony recover.” He took a moment to steady his teacup and he met each set of eyes focused on him in turn. “If anything, that makes this better. Keep the numbers small and manageable, get me a teacher, and my barony will host your orphanage. But I have one final demand.” 

“And that would be?” Mrs. Oddbody leaned forward. 

“Give me more than ponies. I wouldn’t mind a few diamond dogs. Or griffons. Whatever, really. I’m sure they want a place to call home.” 

“Luna said you would do this.” 

Sundance focused all of his attention on Twilight Velvet. “She did?” 

“She did.” Mrs. Velvet nodded. “Quite convincing, Luna. She assigned me a casefile of those in need. Those that have fallen through the cracks or those in danger of falling through the cracks. One of them is in Ponyville right now, awaiting pick up. Right now, he’s in the care of Fluttershy, and from what I understand, she’s trying to revive his sense of trust.” 

“The Element of Kindness is a miracle worker,” Copperquick said to nopony in particular. 

“Was he abused?” asked Sundance. 

“Not all abuse is physical,” Mrs. Oddbody replied. “Sometimes abuse comes in the form of neglect. Sometimes, abuse doesn’t come from a sense of malice, but a sense of apathy. A lack of interest. In this instance, the client was fed and sheltered, but given nothing else and was habitually ignored.” 

“I’d like to find whomever did that,” Sundance grumbled, “and go have a word with them.” 

“That’s not a bad idea—” 

“Lovesome, hush.” 

“—you do wrong, and one of the nobles of Equestria arrives at your door to chew you out—” 

“Copper…” Mrs. Oddbody’s eyes rolled behind her glasses. 

“—and repeat offenders get a royal that shows up. Maybe Blueblood on a day when his hemorrhoidal itch has him in a mood—” 

“Copper!” This time it was Twilight Velvet who spoke out in protest. 

“What? It’s a good idea.” 

Both mares rolled their eyes and turned away from Copperquick. 

“I like this idea,” Sundance announced. 

Disgusted, Twilight Velvet changed the subject. “When we’re done here, I want you to fly to Ponyville and have a chat with Fluttershy. Make a good impression. If you fail to make a good impression, she will not release her charge. Make a bad impression, and you might get a lecture—” 

“Or worse,” Copperquick added. “Trust me, she can do worse.” 

“The Element of Kindness is known to be cranky at times. She blames it on her age and tries to dismiss it, but honestly, I think that she’s just grown tired of dealing with so much shi—” 

“Buttermilk Oddbody, as I live and breathe!” 

“Sorry, Boss. But she does deal with a lot of, uh—” 

“Yep, she does.” Copperquick nodded. 

“You’ll be fine.” Twilight Velvet asserted her control over the situation, and restored order. “You’re not the type that’ll set her off. But she might have a hard time letting go. She has trouble saying goodbye sometimes. On occasion, it is an act. She’s testing you to see if you are compassionate and kind, and if you’ll try to reassure her. Other times, she’s genuinely sad. She grows attached to her clients. Just don’t set her off, unless you want to live the rest of your life with a draconequus pestering you.” 

This caused Sundance to suffer a fit of worry. 

“And now is the part where I must apologise.” 

“Why is that, Mrs. Velvet?” 

“Paperwork. None of this can be done without paperwork. I understand that you’re quite a bureaucrat, and you have endurance for paperwork that is, quite factually, the stuff of legend. At least, all my sources tell me this. You even endured my daughter’s filing system… which means you have stamina.” 

“Uh, yeah, that filing system—” 

“Is genius.” Twilight Velvet’s eyes narrowed, but a merry twinkle could be seen. 

Sundance chose diplomacy: “I look forward to working with you.” 

“And I with you,” Twilight Velvet replied. “There’s still a lot of boring, mundane details in need of sorting out. But I have what I wanted, I believe you’ll get what you wanted, and in the future, I think both of us will benefit from this relationship. Feel free to tell me no, Sundance. It’s fine if you do. Celestia wanted me to walk all over you and see just how much I could get from you. Her exact words to me were, ‘I want you to make him squirm.’ A little backbone is good.” 

His grandmother really loved him… and it showed. 

“Excuse me while I go and fetch the paperwork. We should be done in an hour or two…” 
> Cricket
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ponyville: the city of ponies. Not long after landing, Sundance spotted a griffon, and upon seeing said griffon, immediately wondered how that griffon felt about either inhabiting or visiting a city intended for ponies. Equine-centric names were common; Baltimare, Fillydelphia, Las Pegasus; and for the first time in his life, Sundance wondered if this was, perhaps, possibly, maybe a problem. 

At least the Sunfire Barony didn’t have this problem. 

No, the problem they had was that they needed a township name due to regulations. 

Things like postal service and such, and all of the things that would connect them to civilisation couldn’t happen until they had a name—and Sundance was at a total loss for ideas. When he’d suggested Rotten Egglünd—a serious, sincere suggestion—Corduroy threw a pawful of hot, buttered peas at him and told him to go soak his head. Then, she mentioned something about hearing umlauts, which baffled him. 

“Wow, Mister… you smell!” A small blue filly waved her wing at him, not as a hello, but clearly to fend off the stink, and when this failed to have any effect, she turned tail and galloped away with a cry of, “Head for the hills! The Great Stinkening has returned to Ponyville!” 

“I don’t smell anything,” Sundance said in a sullen tone. 

Did he just spend several hours in an office with several ponies who pretended that nothing was wrong? He stood there considering this very thought, and it was then he knew that he’d dealt with consummate professionals. They’d all sat at some distance away from him; in far corners, near the window, each of them sitting as far away as the small office would allow. Not a word was said, not one nose crinkled. 

One thought rose to the top of the others. 

He would never find his future baroness if he smelt like this. 

It was hard being the Lord of Rotten Egglünd.





The cottage was quite interesting, but the mare was far more so. At the moment, she was nursing a panther—a large, scary critter—who had a bad encounter with a porcupine from the looks of things. A young unicorn, a filly, acted as Fluttershy’s assistant, and followed the concerned mare’s careful instructions on what to do. Sundance watched, waited, and dared not interrupt. This was no doubt a wild panther, a ferocious critter, so this was a rare chance to see something ferocious up close. 

One of the quills was coaxed out, and an eyeblink later, a stream of foul yellowish pus oozed from the swollen hole. The panther moaned with pain, but did nothing to harm its caretakers. Armed with pliers, the unicorn filly got ahold of another porcupine quill, and went to work dislodging it from the panther’s muzzle. 

“How many times have I told you to leave the porcupines alone?” Fluttershy’s demeanour was one of intense disappointment and disapproval, and something about her reminded Sundance of his mother. “You must stop doing this. Do you want me to scold you? Are you a naughty kitty?” 

Much to Sundance’s shock and surprise, the panther cringed in shame. 

“If you keep this up, I’ll have no choice but to be cross with you—” 

When these words were said, the panther whimpered. 

“—and I might even raise my voice at you. Is that what you want, Mister Panther? Is it? Do you want that to happen?” She stomped her hoof against the dirt and her ears pitched forwards at an aggressive angle. “Because that’s what is going to happen the next time you come scratching at my door in the middle of the night.” 

The unicorn filly coaxed out another quill; this, along with Fluttershy’s stern words, proved too much for the poor panther, and it collapsed in a quivering heap. As it turned out, the predatory feline was just a big crybaby really, and while it made the most awful sounds (cries that Sundance could not possibly describe, other than the fact that they were heartbreaking) Fluttershy offered very little much-needed comfort for the stricken panther. 

“I don’t care if the porcupines do taunt you,” she said in a stern tone. “There’s no way that you can eat them. You must stop being so foolish. I thought cats were supposed to be smart.” 

At this, the panther reowled, its tail twitched, and then he went still. 

“Tender Mercy, if you would please finish up the job, that would be so very nice of you.” Fluttershy turned to look at Sundance. “I am going to speak to our guest. Thank you so much for your help, Tender Mercy. One day, you’ll be the bestest veterinarian, I just know it.” 



 

Sundance stood perfectly still while Fluttershy studied him. She walked around him in a circle, examining him, and after a full circuit, she spent several long moments reading his face as if it were a book. He said nothing, because she said nothing, but he did look at her, and even maintained eye contact when she initiated it. Her face was beautiful, wise, and somehow untouched by age. She was clearly older, that much was obvious, but try as he might, Sundance could not see age on her face. Her eyes were clear, bright, and somehow comforting. 

“Twilight Velvet said you would come,” she said at last. “Sundance.” 

“I am,” he replied. 

“And I’m Fluttershy.” She raised her head a little higher, broke eye contact, and he felt her eyes upon his neck. “Oh, you poor dear. You’ve been mauled. That’s awful.” 

He felt a light touch of feathers against his throat. 

“Those scars have healed well. Why, they’re barely noticeable at all. You must have an excellent caretaker.” She moved in closer to have a better look at his back. “I can’t believe an owlbear would do this. They’re so shy and reclusive. It must have been desperate… in a bad way. They’re smart, owlbears, and they know that we ponies will respond badly if they hunt us.” 

She brought her head around to look into Sundance’s eye on his left side. “There’s a reason for this, even if we don’t understand what it is yet. The environment must have changed in some way, or the ecosystem has been disrupted. You must try to figure out what happened, so that we ponies and those precious, big, cuddly owlbears can live in peace.” 

He considered her words and didn’t dismiss them outright. Perhaps something was wrong; she might be right. And whatever was wrong might very well put his barony in danger. Perhaps more time in the air was necessary; long patrols over the unknown places in search of owlbears and other megafauna. Maybe if there was a problem, and the root cause was dealt with somehow, the owlbears might leave his barony alone. 

“It’s very nice of you to at least think about it,” Fluttershy said as her attention returned to the scars that ran the length of his back. “Owlbears are vicious brutes, but they’re also quite shy and solitary. This shouldn’t have happened. It’s a sign that something is wrong. At least, I’m pretty sure it is. I suppose an owlbear might have a bad day, but that seems unlikely. I know these creatures. Some of them live in the Everfree. They leave me in peace because I do my best to respect them.” 

“I came to collect an orphan—” 

“No! No! Don’t call him that!” 

Sundance cringed, and feared that he’d blown it. 

The smaller mare was right up in his face now, and he stood perfectly still while she stared up at him. He saw anger, though he suspected that the anger wasn’t directed at him—though it might be. Hard to tell. Her eyes were mesmerising though, and he found that he really did want to look into them, to peer into them and explore their depths. Something tugged on his brain from the inside, and sensation in his limbs dulled. All he wanted to do was gaze into those perfect eyes—

With a blink, the spell was broken, and he tried to recover his senses. 

“He’s napping. I think. He likes to nap in the middle of the day.” 

“Well,” Sundance said, “what’s his name?” 

“Oh.” Fluttershy drew in her wings and held them tight against her body. “Promise me that you won’t laugh. Promise.” 

“Uh, I promise I won’t laugh?” 

“That was distinctly a question,” a voice said from somewhere and nowhere. “You did a lousy job of hiding that question mark. Try again, friend. Or else owlbears will be the least of your worries.” 

Sundance glanced around, he tried to find the source of the voice, but he saw no one. Fluttershy looked up at him, she waited with great patience, and after a second look around, when Sundance found nothing, he returned his attention to her. It was probably for the best to pretend that whatever had just happened didn’t actually happen. 

“How bad could it be? I promise, I won’t laugh.” 

“He’s a burro,” Fluttershy began, “and his caretaker attempted to take that into consideration when he was finally named.” Her face soured. “She didn’t do a very good job. From what I was told, she knew only a few burro-words, and while she had good intentions…” Her words trailed off with a weary sigh. 

“Ponies and their intentions,” the unseen voice said. “Almost as bad as my own.” 

“She wanted to give him a connection to his culture. I can’t fault her for that.” Fluttershy’s face crinkled somewhat as grumpiness marred her timeless countenance. “His name is Tarantula Sombrero.” 

Sundance blinked, but his face did not betray him. 

“What did Twilight Velvet tell you?” asked Fluttershy. 

“That he was abused. Neglected.” Sundance felt his throat grow tight as anger manifested like a burning brand within his breast. “Mrs. Oddbody said it wasn’t physical abuse, just neglect.” 

Fluttershy’s eyes grew pained, distant. “She was not a cruel caretaker… not like some. No… she just… well, she just didn’t know how to deal with the burro. That’s the problem. She saw him as a burro, not as a foal. During the trial, she said that she just didn’t know how to reach out to him, or what to do with him. She—” The frustrated sunny yellow pegasus chomped down on her lip and went silent. 

Without knowing why, Sundance suddenly felt guilty. 

“It’s a shame, what happened. She fed him, cared for him, but she didn’t reach out to him. Didn’t speak to him much. He wasn’t supervised or watched over like the others in her care. Now, he has trust issues. He’s quiet, and not in a good way. I’ve never heard him laugh… or even cry for that matter. He didn’t even respond when I tried to tickle him. Poor little guy, he just pulled away and whimpered. Doesn’t like to be touched. I’ve done my best to restore his trust, and I tell him every single day that there are good ponies.” 

“Well, fu—” 

Fluttershy blinked, and Sundance’s danger sense told him that he was in mortal peril. 

“—dge.” 

She blinked again, and her stern gaze turned suspicious. 

“I have strong feelings,” he said to her with the hopes of explaining his behaviour. 

“I once said that I was”—her voice turned into a quiet, subdued squeak—“peeved. In public no less. Rainbow Dash heard me and everything. It’s alright if you’re angry. Perhaps you want to talk about it?” 

Before he could even think of what he was saying, he blurted out, “My best friend is a diamond dog, and I almost ruined the most perfect, most wonderful friendship because I almost acted on the awful things my mother taught me growing up and I—” He covered his mouth with his wing to cut off the flow before the really awful things were said. 

“Oh, you poor dear.” She looked up at him with sincere hurt in her eyes. “That makes my heart ache… oh, it must be so hard for you. It’s fine to cry, if you need to. You can cry it out and then we can talk about it.” 

“No, I’m fine,” he said while he pulled his wing away from his mouth—though he did feel a curious need to cry about it. But that need was dealt with and cast aside. A single sniffle did escape, and when it did, he saw Fluttershy’s eyes widen with concern. “I’m fine, really. But I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I was a bigot. I didn’t mean to be… I didn’t try to be. It’s not like I went out of my way to make the lives of other creatures miserable. My mother taught me things, and I believed them, and movies, and books, and stuff like that kind of influenced my thoughts. I had a head full of garbage, and I recently had to clean it all out. But I’m fine, really.” 

“You don’t sound fine.” 

“I am.” He ignored the hot sting in the corners of his eyes. 

“Holding it all in doesn’t help.” 

“Yes it does,” he replied while he resisted the urge to sniffle. 

“It’s hard to make difficult friends,” Fluttershy said to Sunance as she sat down in the grass and then pulled him down beside her. “Once, a long time ago, I decided to put Twilight’s ideas about friendship into practice.” She settled on the grass, got comfortable, slipped a wing around Sundance’s back, and scooted closer to him. 

“There was a creature that had no friends… only enemies. Ponies thought it was horrible… ugly… twisted and distorted by evil. Many judged him on how he looked… because he didn’t look like the rest of us. I made a decision to try and be his friend, and let me tell you, this caused me some strain in my other friendships… my other relationships. They were quick to judge, and given this creature’s past, it is hard to blame them.” 

From somewhere and nowhere, there came a faint, muffled sniffle. 

“In becoming friends with this twisted creature that didn’t look like us, I had to deal with the bigotry of my friends. And myself, too. I can’t leave that part out. I had to look into my own heart, and let me tell you, Sundance, I didn’t like what I saw there. I had to go against everything I was raised to believe, I had to deal with what my friends thought, and everypony else around me. 

“And during a moment of loneliness, when everything felt impossible, when it felt like my friends were distant, that moment of loneliness gave me some insight into my new friend, and I had an idea of how he must of felt. It was awful. No, it was worse than awful. It hurt me. All my friends told me I was wrong, and I was depressed, and downhearted, and everything felt so impossible, and all I could think of was that my new friend had it so much worse.”

The sniffles turned to blubbering, and Fluttershy paused to look around. 

“Discord, this is serious. Stop that.” 

“No, I’m sad. Everything you’ve just said is so touching.” 

“Discord… don’t do this. Not right now. I’m trying to heal another creature.” 

The sniffling ceased with sudden abruptness and Sundance joined Fluttershy in looking about. He saw nothing, no source, no cause—but he did see a somewhat annoyed Fluttershy sitting right beside him. Tender Mercy was still pulling quills out of a mewling panther, and chickens pecked at bugs in the grass. 

“I really am sad, you know,” the disembodied voice said. “Hearing you say all that. I only misbehaved because I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“I know,” Fluttershy said with great forbearance. “Where are you?” 

“Over here,” the voice replied. “Right now, I’m a cricket.” 

“Discord, why are you a cricket?” 

“Well,” Discord began in a creaky voice that was indeed sad, “Twilight Sparkle stole yet another book from some other dimension, and this book was about a sociopathic, kleptomaniac puppet that wanted to be real. He had a cricket assigned to be his conscience. And after reading the book to a group of foals during story hour, I decided that I would be a cricket, so I too, could be somepony’s conscience, but no one has assigned me a sociopathic, kleptomaniac puppet pony to look after.”

“Discord…” Fluttershy rubbed her temple with the joint of her wing. 

“You were friends with me when nopony else would be,” Discord said, his voice even more strained now than ever. “Once I had one friend, I decided that I wanted others. I made a lot of mistakes, sure, and I might not be the very bestest friend, but I do try really hard. Everything you taught me, I used it to make my own friends, and now, I am almost socially well-adjusted. Just ask my friend!” 

There was a muted snap from somewhere… 

A startled Sumac Apple appeared, and he stood there, confused and blinking. He wore an apron of black rubber, and his mane was covered in a kerchief. A scalpel hovered in the air beside him, along with a notebook, a pen, and some kind of weird metal object that Sundance couldn’t identify. It looked like something used for torture though, and the sight of it made him shiver. 

“Nice apron, Sumac,” Discord said. “Cooking something?” 

“I was preparing a corpse for viewing,” Sumac replied while he squinted with annoyance. 

“Are we friends, Sumac?” asked Discord. 

Twirling his scalpel, Sumac replied, “At the moment—” 

“Say no more!” 

There was a second snap, and then Sumac vanished just as suddenly as he appeared. 

“Discord, what have I told you about abducting your friends?” 

“How are my random abductions any different than Pinkie Pie’s surprise parties?” he asked in return. 

In response, Fluttershy sighed, rubbed her temple a bit more, and then shook her head. “Difficult friends are the best friends you can have,” the exasperated yellow pegasus with flared nostrils said. “They teach you so much about yourself. Every creature needs a friend. We can choose easy friendships, but hard friendships are so much more rewarding. Even when it doesn’t feel like they are.” 

The willowy flustered mare drew in a deep breath, gave Sundance a reassuring squeeze, and then raised her head to look up at him. “Tarantula will be a difficult friend, but I think you have what it takes. Be patient. Be gentle. Be calm. I’ve done most of the hard work, and now, he needs to learn that he can trust others. That’s going to be tough for him, and I’m worried about him. I’ve done all I can though, and now the rest is up to you.” 

At a loss for words, Sundance didn’t know what to say. 

“I’m going to go and check on him, if you don’t mind.” Fluttershy stood up, brushed herself off with her wings, and swished her tail to be rid of any stray bits of grass. “Maybe chat with Discord for a while. I’ll be back soon.” 

With that, Fluttershy left, and Sundance was all alone with an all-powerful cricket… 
> I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little. Brown. But also rather greyish. Speckled. Shaggy. The little colt was all ears, which is to say that his ears were enormous—adult-sized ears—and he needed to grow into them. It made him appear a bit rabbity. He was small, younger than Sundance expected, and quite distraught, as evidenced by the way he cowered behind Fluttershy. Seeing this reminded Sundance of how he hid behind his own mother as a colt, and then it occurred to him that Fluttershy was the closest thing this poor little burro had to a mother. This pained him, more so when he realised that he was taking this colt away from her. 

Even worse, a part of him understood why. 

Fluttershy was a healer. 

Leaving was necessary. 

It showed that the patient was well. 

So many thoughts stampeded through Sundance’s mind that he couldn’t keep track of them all. The colt had to learn to trust others, and how to make his way in the world. Tearing him away from his benevolent caretaker was awful, and guilt ravaged Sundance, but he understood. There were others damaged by abuse, and for Fluttershy to be able to help them, the colt had to go. Understanding this did nothing to make Sundance feel better, and there was a part of him that felt like crying. 

“I’ve packed all of his things,” Fluttershy said to Sundance in a voice much softer and lower than usual. “He came to me with nothing. Applejack gave him a blanket, which he is very attached to. Rainbow Dash gave him a stuffed Rainbow Dash doll.” The yellow pegasus blinked, cocked her head to one side, and her mane fell over her face. “Yes, Rainbow did that. She keeps doing that. I do believe that every foal that has come into my care has left with a stuffed Rainbow Dash.” 

Sundance listened and said nothing. 

“Twilight gave him a few books, including Hitut the Unlikeable Elephant, which is his favourite story. If you want to calm him down, you have to make the sounds, no matter how dreadful and repulsive they might be.” 

“I am familiar with the story,” he replied. “It is a favourite of little Amber Dawn.” 

“Oh good.” Fluttershy’s feathers fluffed out with relief and she let out a slight, small sigh. 

“Some goodbyes must be said… I’m going to give the two of you some space.” With a respectful bow of his head, Sundance retreated as he spoke, and his gaze lingered on the vulnerable colt that cowered behind Fluttershy. 

He backed away with soft steps, mindful of the moment, and he made no sudden movements. With ears down, head low, and wings slightly dropped, he retreated until he was some distance away, and then watched as Fluttershy cautiously turned herself about to have a moment with the tiny burro foal that was all ears. She sat down on the grass with him, wrapped one wing around him, and Sundance saw the foal stiffen a bit—but he did not offer resistance. 

“Don’t you want me?” the colt asked in a hushed whisper. 

“Oh, I do,” Fluttershy replied in a whisper that was as soft as it was broken-hearted. “But there are others just like you that need my help too. I want you to remember that there are good ponies in the world. Good creatures. You… you are a good burro. One worthy of love and affection. Oh goodness”—almost sniffling, she wiped the corner of her eye with one wing while she kept the other wing held right around the trembling colt—“you’ve come so far in such a short amount of time. So much resilience. It’s time for a new chapter in life… just like there are new chapters in books. 

“We’ve turned the final page in this chapter, and now, a whole new exciting chapter awaits us. There’s a little filly who needs my help and you… you get to meet new friends and maybe find a family. Just be yourself and everything will be just fine, I promise.” 

She kissed him, squeezed him, started to let go of him, but then hugged him close one more time. Sundance watched, waited, and remained silent. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard this might be, or what the colt might be feeling. Something good had finally happened, and now, it was all coming to an end. But that was likely the point; if the colt had healed enough, this would be a rough spot, but one that could be worked though, and life would continue. 

If not… Sundance shuddered, and didn’t want to think about what might be. 

This was only the first; Twilight Velvet had a whole roster of troublesome cases.

“Sundance seems like a nice pony,” Fluttershy said to the burro colt. “We’ve heard about him on the radio. He is going to give you a home, and I’m positive that he’ll dote on you, and be good to you. You are going to grow, and have all kinds of fun, and I promise that I’ll come by to check on you. Everything will be fine and you have nothing to worry about. Alright?” 

When the colt nodded, he did so with great hesitation. 

“You are one of the most special little foals I’ve ever met. So quiet, gentle-natured, and kind. You’re good with animals, you have patience, and you are a quick study. These are your best qualities, Tarantula. You have all sorts of good things to offer, you’re young, which means you’ll grow, and that means you’ll have even more to offer. When you get to your new home, you show everypony—everyone—just what makes you special. They will all adore you, just like I do. I’m sure of that.” 

For the first time, the burro colt smiled. Oh, it wasn’t much of a smile; certainly not one meant for show, but what it lacked in width and cheer, it made up for with sincerity and warmth. It contrasted with his sad golden eyes, and Sundance’s heart was seized with a curious constriction. Perhaps he saw a bit of himself in the colt, or maybe he was just emotional, but he was certainly overcome with feelings. Fluttershy’s pep-talk touched him, and it was easy to see why she was the Element of Kindness. 

Even Discord melted like butter when faced with that sort of benevolence. 

In a moment that almost felt too strange to endure, Sundance found himself sincerely wishing that he was another pony, somepony other than himself. He wanted to be Fluttershy, to have her kindness, her goodness, and her profound gentleness. It was always good to be oneself—at least he’d grown up hearing that so often that it was now a part of how he thought—but he wanted himself to be a lot more like the buttery yellow pegasus whose kindness was storied. 

His mother was a kind creature, or so he thought. She was kind to him, his father, his grandmother, and those close to her. But others… there were too many others deserving of whatever they got. Such as diamond dogs. Hooligans who did not drink their tea. His mother had a plethora of excuses, a whole list of those who deserved no kindness whatsoever, and it was only now, with Fluttershy in view, that he understood just how wrong this was. 

“Sundance, are you well?” the perceptive pegasus asked. 

“I, uh, yeah, I’m fine.” He turned all of his attention to the colt, and with a smile asked, “Say, kid, want to go and get some ice cream?” 

All Sundance got in return was cold suspicion. 

So that was how it would be. He nodded, because he could deal with suspicion. “You probably think I’m trying to win you over with ice cream. And you might be right, kid. But the truth is, I’ve flown a long, long way. From my barony to Canterlot, and then to Ponyville, and I left in a big hurry because of reasons, and I never stopped to get lunch in Canterlot, and now it is the middle of the afternoon, and I need to get home… only if I don’t eat something, I’ll probably crash into the ground and go splat about halfway there. That’d be bad, wouldn’t it?” 

The colt’s eyes turned from suspicious to alarmed. 

“But I don’t want to be rude and eat something in front of you if you’re not eating, that wouldn’t be very nice. So the way I see it, we can stop and get some ice cream, which would be great, because I haven’t had ice cream in a long while, or we can risk me flying home on an empty stomach. What’ll it be, kid?” 

“You love ice cream, Tarantula. But you are fretful around strangers. Oh, you poor little thing, what will you do?” When Fluttershy squeezed the burro colt, there was a faint hint of a smile spotted upon her muzzle. “It would be awful if Sundance crashed halfway home. You have to make a grown-up decision, Tarantula.” 

With his long, droopy ears attempting to rise to the occasion, the colt seemed stressed. 

Fluttershy, her eyes a little teary, pulled away from the colt, stood up, steadied herself, sniffled for a time, and wiped the corners of both eyes with her wing knuckles. After sorting herself out, she said, “There’s a place called the Tamale Tent near the train station. They serve tamales, of course, and just tamales. That’s it. Nothing else. Tarantula is fond of this place. As for ice cream, the train station has a bustling cafe with a soda fountain.” 

“Come with us?” the colt asked of his kind caretaker. 

“No.” Fluttershy’s voice held surprising firmness. “You and Sundance need to get to know one another better. I would only be in the way.” 

This made Tarantula frown, but the colt still leaned close to Fluttershy, who now stood beside him. Sundance understood that something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what. Kind as she might be, Fluttershy was also stern and resolute. She’d established that it was time for Tarantula to go, and now it seemed, she stuck by that. Sundance could only imagine how hard this was for her, and he suspected that she’d have a good cry once he’d departed. 

“Ice cream. Please.” 

Now proud, Fluttershy beamed like the sun, which somehow enhanced her yellowness. 

“Ready to go?” asked Sundance. 

There was a nod from the burro colt. 

Sundance lowered his head until he was down at eye level with the little fellow, and then asked, “Is there anypony else that you want to say goodbye to?” 

Both the colt and Fluttershy seemed surprised by this; Tarantula stood there, blinking, uncertain, while Fluttershy fought to maintain her now-quivering smile. She seemed touched, emotional, and Sundance admired how she held the floodgates secure. He raised his head, glanced around, and wondered if a certain cricket watched him. Tarantula recovered himself, and intense concentration could be seen in his eyes. 

“Dash?” 

“Oh, sweet honey heart, I’m sorry. Dash is away right now. She left with friends to do an important mission for Twilight.” Fluttershy seemed more hurt by this than the colt was, and by Sundance’s estimation, her attempts to comfort him seemed more like an effort to make herself feel better. “When I visit, and I will come to visit, I’ll bring Dash with me.” 

With a sigh, the burro colt nodded. 

“If we’re going to get tamales and ice cream, we need to go as soon as possible. Darkness comes early to the Sunfire Barony, due to the position of the Canterhorn. And we have to fly several hundred miles to get home. As it is right now, it’ll be a little dark when we get home.” 

“Oh… my…” 

“Nothing to worry about,” Sundance said to Fluttershy before she could work up a good worry. “I can land in almost any condition. And have!” 

“You sound like Rainbow Dash,” replied Fluttershy while she looked down at her precious charge. “It’s a good thing that Tarantula likes flying. Please, do be careful.” 

“Of course. His future is my future. And you”—Sundance offered a reassuring smile to Fluttershy—“have shaped the future of my barony. This little guy is going to grow up, and everything he’s learned from you, well, I’m sure it’ll influence us in some way.” 

“Oh my, I hadn’t thought of that… oh dear, I hope I did enough. If I would have had more time, I would have done more. Oh, goodness… I didn’t do much about his atrocious table manners, because it was more important to inspire trust with the time I had. What if I ruined everything?” 

“Not to worry, he’ll fit right in.” Sundance smiled down at the colt. “Ready to go?” 

Hesitating, it was several long seconds before the colt nodded, and then said, “Yes.” 
> The importance of appearing nonchalant
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was nothing quite like ice cream, which seemed more a treat now that it was uncommon. No longer could he trot down to the corner store and grab a pint from the display freezer—which was the smart thing to do because an ice cream shop charged the cost of a pint for a single scoop. Sundance thought about these things in a way that he’d never considered them before, and during his meandering thoughts, he concluded that his barony would be a far, far better place with ice cream. 

Tarantula’s face was a sticky mess, and Sundance was terrible at cleaning small, fuzzy, sticky faces. He had no knack for it, but surely Corduroy could make things right. The burro colt seemed to be enjoying himself in his own quiet way, and as for Sundance, he found it amusing when the colt’s ears fell into his ice cream dish. It was cute, rather funny, and the colt didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. 

“So, you actually like flying?” asked Sundance. 

At first, there was no response, the colt was far too busy lapping at the ice cream and chocolate sauce in his dish, but then at last came a perfunctory nod. A chocolate-dipped ear clung to the colt’s cheek and there was strawberry syrup just above his eye, but below his eyebrow. Yep, the kid was a mess and Sundance knew that he was going to catch an earful from Corduroy later. But that was fine—that was the way of things. She would grumble a bit and the mess would be sorted out. Life now had a pattern of sorts, a series of routines, and even with deviations such as a trip to Ponyville, certain things were constants. 

Talking to foals was still difficult. Sure, he had experience now, so it wasn’t quite as awkward, but it still seemed complicated somehow. It was something he had to work at. Amber would talk his ear off if he let her, but he had trouble keeping up his end of the conversation. It was even harder right now with Tarantula, because he knew hardly anything about the colt. Why, he didn’t even know the burro’s age—which as the colt’s caretaker, was something he felt he should know. 

Something in the back of his mind wanted to know what his mother would think of this. 

“So you like Hitut…” 

This got the colt’s attention and right away, he lifted his head from his bowl. A pale brown rivulet of chocolate and ice cream dribbled down his fuzzy chin, and his eyes were bright with interest. There was a clot of minced fruit, ice cream, and red syrup lurking in one nostril. Yeah, Corduroy was going to have herself a moment. 

“Wait… you can read, can’t you?” 

Almost hesitant, Tarantula nodded. 

“You’re kinda young… and you can read. Are you even old enough to be in school?” 

The colt shrugged and then planted his muzzle back into his bowl of ice cream. 

“How old are you?” 

Another shrug, but this one was halfhearted. 

“Huh.” Sundance floundered, and everything became increasingly awkward. “Back home, there is a zurro. His name is Gothcruz… which seems strange, but I understand it is a burro name. I think the two of you will get along. Maybe Cruz can help you connect with who and what you are.” 

The colt paused his lapping, and his eyes glittered with keen interest. 

“Well,” Sundance said, committing himself to his continued attempt to communicate, “I think you have an awesome name. Tarantula Sombrero sounds like a luchadore name, and that’s awesome. The sort of name that would strike fear into some dunderhead that nobody likes.” 

“What’s that?” asked Tarantula. 

“What’s what?” Sundance struggled to connect things. “What’s a luchadore, you mean? Well, kid, a lot of your kind grow up to be luchadores. Wrestlers. It’s kind of a big deal. They wear masks, and capes sometimes, and they’re sort of heroic figures in the square circle. My mom loves them…” When he thought of his mother, he paused to consider why she liked them. “She likes the message most of them have about hard work, good deeds, and heroic acts. But I suppose that’s true for any of the good wrestlers. Mom, she’s not big on the heels.

“You know, I could tell you all about this, and I don’t think it would help much. You and I, we’re going to have to go and watch a match. Maybe this can connect you to your culture, a bit. That’s what I want for you. Problem is, I don’t know a thing about your culture. Which has me stressed, kid.” 

The little burro blinked, but said nothing. 

“We need to get going,” Sundance announced. “I better hurry up and finish my ice cream…” 



 

A warm wind blew in from the west, which buffeted Sundance’s left side. There was bound to be some drift with this sort of wind, but Sundance sensed that his north by northeast flightpath was still good—for now. Behind him, his sky truck was loaded down with precious things, all given to him by Twilight Velvet. Some books, some toys, assorted sundries, nutritious snacks, a crate of tinned milk, and one burro that was having the time of his life. 

Tarantula’s ears flapped like windsocks in a hurricane and the young colt sat with his face pointed into the wind. He was grinning—so much so that Sundance wished that Fluttershy could see it. Teeth were visible. It was as if some radical, fundamental change had come over the tiny colt, as if some switch had been flipped from melancholy to ecstatic. While some were terrified of flight, Tarantula reveled in it, and Sundance resolved to take regular flights with the colt to keep his spirits up. 

Perhaps Tarantula was a future aviator. 

The western sky was ablaze with vivid shades of orange as the sun settled near the horizon. Green stretched in every direction below them; green trees, green grass, every good green thing that existed in the wide open spaces between cities and settlements. Feral creatures could be seen below; antelopes, wild goats, and a few lumbering giant boars that had no doubt ventured out of the Everfree to explore the open plains.  

“Go faster!”

This plea for speed could barely be heard over the roar of the wind and Sundance was surprised that he’d heard it at all. A little more speed couldn’t possibly hurt anything, but he did need to pace himself with the load he pulled. His wings carved into the air like sharp knives and the wind whistled around his flight goggles. Hind legs extended, front legs tucked against his barrel, his long neck straight forward, ears back, Sundance cut an impressive figure as he tore through the wide-open sky. 

Mindful of his precious cargo, the sky trucker hurried home. 



 

A row of lights awaited him, along with one unicorn that pulsed like a beacon. He wasn’t too far off course, and saw the faint lights of the barony from miles away. The sky was now muted shades of blue and purple, with faint hints of dull orange and crimson to the distant west. He banked, angled his wings to slow himself, and extended his legs, which were in need of a good stretch. 

Paradox made the torches flare; he saw the brilliant intensity of the light increase until it was almost as bright as day around the runway. Photon manipulation, or something like that. Paradox was good at it, though he could not understand what she did. After circling a few times, and stretching his legs, he lined himself up with the runway so he could begin his approach. 

Corduroy stood at the far end of the runway. She was probably happy to see him, and she certainly wasn’t standing there ready to act if the landing became exciting. The wind was only slightly treacherous, and Sundance was confident that he would nail his approach. Down he came, almost coasting, almost gliding. He angled his wings with the undersides forward, splayed out his primaries wide, and cupped his wings to slow himself. 

Still a bit too fast, even with the headwind coming from the west, and the cross current from the south pushed on his left side. He felt a hard tug on the trailer, and with it came a faint worry. But worry was distraction, and he could ill-afford that right now. He dropped his rear half so his hind legs hung down further than his front legs, and then flapped like mad to correct his course. 

The sky truck hit the runway first, bounced a bit, and then his hind legs hit the ground running. After the initial bump, which really wasn’t much of a bump at all, everything else was smooth. He came to a stop without skidding, took a moment to dramatically fold in his wings, and then did his best to look as nonchalant as possible, because that was the most important part of any landing that involved even a modicum of risk. 

“I have returned,” he said to his boon companions, “with a burro.” 

“Drats.” Corduroy raised her paws up on both sides. “I was in the mood for Abyssinian.” 

“You alright back there, Tarantula? That bump wasn’t too bumpy, I hope.” Sundance began undoing the straps of his harness while Corduroy ignored him as she strode past. 

“Hi.” Corduroy used the Nurse Corduroy voice that she reserved for small foals and scared patients. “Oh my… what the… that can’t… what is all over your face? Who did this to you? How did this happen and why weren’t you cleaned up?” 

Sundance turned around just in time to see that Tarantula was pointing right at him—and Corduroy was already panting with frustration. Yep, he was in trouble, but that was fine. When Corduroy reached up and tugged on her own ears, he knew from experience that she’d just reached a breaking point—boiled over, so to speak, and would now begin venting steam. 

“The wind hardened whatever… whatever this is. It’s like a mask!” The frantic diamond dog tugged her ears a second time. “Hot water and soap, Sundance! Do you not understand how these things work?” 

“Tarantula, this is Nurse Corduroy. I think you’re about to get to know her. And over here”—he gestured with his wing—“this is Paradox. She’s our wizard, and also our librarian.” 

“That kid’s face is covered with chocolate,” Paradox said matter-of-factly. “And the wind did something to it. Good luck, Corduroy.” 

“Paradox, Corduroy, this is Tarantula Sombrero. And we need to have a chit-chat about him. Twilight Velvet is about to supply us with a bushel of orphans, but we’ll be getting regular supplies and a teacher in exchange.” 

Scowling, Corduroy lifted the tiny burro colt out of the sky truck, and Sundance worried. The colt didn’t like being touched, or so he’d been told. But Tarantula didn’t seem to mind. Corduroy’s immense size made him seem even tinier, and he was able to sit on her cupped paw. Sundance himself came up to Corduroy’s navel, but from the looks of this, Tarantula wouldn’t even come up to her knee. 

“I got ice cream,” Tarantula said to Corduroy. 

“I see that,” Corduroy replied. “It’s all over your ears.” 

“Is it bedtime?” the colt asked. 

“No.” The stern giantess nurse shook her head. “It is bathtime.” 

“Aw…” Tarantula wiped his face with his foreleg, but that only smeared the mess and made it worse. “I’m sleepy. I don’t wanna be by myself. Scared.” 

Corduroy’s face softened so much and so suddenly that her jowls sagged. She pulled the colt close—but was mindful of his sticky face—and cradled him in the crook of her massive forearm. “You can sleep in the infirmary tonight. I’ll keep you company. I have potions to make. But first, we have to get you clean. A hot bath will do you good.” 

The colt said nothing. 

“Are you scared of the dark?”

Tarantula blinked once, twice, and then made a single nod. 

Corduroy took off with a sudden lurch of movement, and Sundance watched her go. She was swift, not just because of her size, but because she was in a hurry to scrub something. It occurred to Sundance that Corduroy would derive great joy from keeping a collection of orphans scrubbed. They were bound to get dirty—this place was all dirt and nature without a lot of asphalt, concrete, and cement—and when it rained, everything turned to mud. 

“You brought back a lot of stuff,” Paradox remarked. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “More books. Donations. Used books. Still better than no books. Some food, canned milk, canned butter, and other things.” 

“She’s… gonna scrub his face right off, you know that, right?” Paradox wore an expression of deep concern.

“Eh, he’ll live. I’m sure of it.” Even as he said it, Sundance worried, because he’d been the victim of more than a few scrubbings. “Everything needs to be put up and stored away.” 

“I’ll help,” Paradox offered. “So, tell me about this burro… you mentioned that we need to talk?” 
> Don't end up a spider smoothie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Worshipful sunflowers swayed in a reverent dance beneath the glorious sun. Sundance sat in the grass and he scratched behind his ear with his left hind hoof. Everything was still dewy, damp, and the cool of the morning could still be felt upon every blade of grass. Last night, he’d dreamed of sunflowers again; tall ones, regal, majestic sunflowers that stood as tall as Princess Celestia, or maybe as tall as Corduroy. A forest of sunflowers that one such as he could get lost in, a maze of endless green rows. 

At the crack of dawn, when he was hardly even awake, Paradox gave him a lesson about the land. He’d already forgotten about half of what she’d said, but it was important stuff. The land around here, she’d said to him whilst he’d yawned, should be frozen for most of the year due to the frigid winters. But the heat of the earth kept the soil from a hard freeze, which is why there were so many trees here, and why crops grew so well. This sort of hyper-productive soil in a boreal-temperate climate was unique, but also extremely beneficial. 

She’d mentioned something else too, something about harnessing the heat of the land… 

And then she was gone, off to do wizardy things before breakfast. 

He gave his ear a final scratch, groaned in regret, and then thought about his to-do list. A part of him wanted to roll in the grass again, but he didn’t. The first thing on his list of things to-do today was to inform Hollyhock that she was going to be the primary caretaker for the barony’s orphans. He wasn’t sure how she might react, and a part of him feared there might be trouble. Things were strained between he and her, and it had something to do with his relationship with Amber Dawn and Lemongrass. 

Still, everypony had a job here, and he felt this would be an ideal role for her. 

But convincing her of that might be hard. He allowed himself to procrastinate a bit, because it was just too nice a morning to start trouble, and the temptation to roll in the grass remained strong. The sunflowers—silent, non-judgmental sentinels—kept to their vigilant watch while Sundance struggled between his need to keep the peace and his duty to impose order. He wasn’t going to ask Hollyhock to look after the orphans, no, he was going to tell her, and he found that difficult to do. 





Aware of Hollyhock’s routine, Sundance waited by her door. She was always a little late to breakfast, which was fine. The little pegasus filly (Hollyhock’s third foal) got most of her sleep during the latest part of the night to the earliest of the morning, which meant that from about three in the morning until seven or so, the little filly slept like a rock. So it was understandable that Hollyhock also got her sleep during this time. 

Other ponies were already hard at work. There was weeding to do, which was possibly one of the most important tasks in the barony, given how his residents treated the job. Constant vigilance. At the moment, there were some kind of spore exploders infesting the barony, whose infested, bulbous bodies had to be burned. After death, as the remains decomposed, they exploded into clouds of more spores, which turned into more spore exploders. They didn’t have bodies of their own, not from what Sundance knew, but infected healthy plants and turned them into spore exploders. 

Corduroy studied them to see if there were any useful magical properties. 

“There’s a spider in the shitter!” Floodgate cried. 

“Step on it,” somepony shouted. 

“It’s too big to step on!” Floodgate replied. 

“I gotta see me a big spider,” Privy Pit said, her ears pricked with keen interest. 

“Don’t go look at it,” Floodgate said to the dirt-brown mare. “Go do your job!” 

“I’m the shit-scrubber, not the spider-slayer!” 

“Ick!” Floodgate pranced in place. “Ick! Ick! Ick!” 

“Fallow, go fetch a torch. We’re going to pay a visit to the spider in the shitter.” 

“No way, Privy.” 

Disgusted, Privy spat out the words, “What a bunch of cowards!” 

“That spider is bigger than our chickens!” Floodgate shouted. 

“I think yer full of it,” Privy replied with a shake of her head. “Yer a big scared foal, Floody. Spider’s probably the size of a cherry and you think it’s the size of a chicken.” 

Fallow Fields, who did not go and fetch a torch as requested, opened up the door to the outhouse, poked his head in, squealed, whinnied, yanked his head out, and then kicked the door shut as he beat a hasty retreat whilst he hollered, “It’s as big as a turkey!” 

“Milord, it seems we have a big spider.” 

Though nothing about his outward expression changed, Sundance’s innards began to wriggle around inside of him in search of the nearest exit. A spider that big wouldn’t go squish—not right away. It would put up a fight, no doubt. It probably had huge fangs that glistened with ichor, and too many eyes in nightmarish locations. And legs. So many legs. Too many legs. 

“I need a torch,” Sundance said with the hopes that this would buy him some time. With enough time, this might somehow resolve itself. He was fine with fighting ferocious owlbears, but a turkey-sized spider? As a pegasus, he could end up in the web of that thing. 

“The Milord needs a torch!” Privy bellowed, but nopony ran to fetch one. 

“Paradox has a torch growing out her head—” 

“Floodgate…” Privy squeezed her eyes shut and sighed in exasperation. 

“No,” Fallow interjected, “Floody’s right. Paradox will burn that spider to a crisp. This be wizard business.” 

“All that fire in the outhouse…” Privy opened her eyes, only to close them again with yet another sigh of exasperation. 

“The outhouse can be rebuilt,” suggested Sundance, who saw wisdom in Fallow’s plan. 

A door opened and Carnation Nosegay stuck her head out. She glanced around, looked right, then left, and then turned to Sundance. “What’s with all the commotion?” 

“Spider in the outhouse,” Floodgate said to the unicorn mare who peeked out her door. 

“Huh.” Carnation exited her dome home, shut the door behind her, glanced around at the gathered crowd, and then saying nothing, she trotted over to the row of outhouses near Corduroy’s infirmary. At the first door, Floodgate shook his head from side to side, and this happened again at the second door. 

But at the third door, Floodgate’s flared nostrils were just the visual cue needed. 

She pulled the door open, stuck her head in, and then immediately withdrew whilst she shouted, “WOAH NELLY!” 

“Oooh! Eeew!” Overcome, Floodgate bolted and ran away. For an older pony, he sure could move when the situation demanded. He ran like water flowed, which is to say swiftly and without ceasing. 

“That’s the biggest spider I’ve ever seen,” Carnation casually remarked. “Smart, too. It’s in the outhouse, waiting for some unsuspecting pony to come in and sit down. Then, it’ll bite them on their butt, paralyse them, drag them down into the outhouse basement, and slurp them like a smoothie.” 

Just like that, Fallow Fields was gone and he left behind a faint, vague outline of dirt. 

Corduroy emerged from her infirmary, and with a few annoyed sniffs, she had herself a look about. She glanced at the open outhouse door that swung in the breeze, and then had a good, long, hard look at Sundance, as if she blamed him for allowing all of this commotion to happen. She scowled—no, she grimaced, and then with a lurch, she went into the outhouse to have herself a look at the cause of all this fuss. 

The outhouse shuddered, rocked on its foundation, there was a thump, a growl, and a hiss. Incredible violence could be heard within the structure, and Sundance wondered what Corduroy was doing, because she was a pacifist. She didn’t believe in causing harm to another creature. Maybe spiders were an exception. He hoped that spiders were an exception, because after all that had happened, the actual spider itself was just too terrible to imagine. 

A few seconds later, Corduroy stepped out of the outhouse and she dragged a quivering, twitchy spider by one misshapen, bent-in-all-the-wrong-ways leg. His imagination was wrong, Sundance realised. This spider was worse than anything he could think of. Yard-long legs. A fat, bulbous, hairy spider-butt with wiggly finger-thingies that spurted white clots of sticky webbing. It was, in fact, the size of a very large turkey, and this was no exageration. 

“I like my ingredients fresh,” Corduroy remarked in a voice of frigid calm. 

Sundance’s alchemist was terrifying. 

When she went back into her infirmary and shut the door behind her, Sundance let go of the breath he didn’t realise he was holding, only to suck in another breath and hold it. Tarantula was in the infirmary! The poor colt would no doubt be traumatised and Sundance felt bad for him. Then, when he found his breath again, and could breathe, he felt bad for the spider. Corduroy was going to turn the massive, hairy menace into potions, poultices, and maybe antivenin. 

“What’s going on?” 

With everything that had just happened, and his current state of distraction, Sundance failed to hear Hollyhock’s door open. She stood in the doorway, blinking, her eyes bleary with sleep. A terrible case of bedmane gave her a curious, almost frightful appearance, and she had crusty eye-boogers. Sundance knew that Hollyhock must be comfortable living here, that she was a part of this community, because what mare would show her face in public looking like that?

“Nothing,” Sundance said to Hollyhock. “Nothing important. It’s over now. You and I need to talk, Holly. There’s something I need you to do.” 

“Give me a chance to get cleaned up,” she said to him. 

“Sure thing. I’ll be out here waiting.” 



 

Amber Dawn and her brother, Lemongrass, huddled near their mother’s legs. Little Amber was sleepy, but Lemongrass was practically asleep on his hooves. Sweet Relish hung from a shawl wrapped around her mother’s neck, and she delighted in seeing the sky overhead. As for Hollyhock, she looked nothing like she did when she had first stuck her head out the door, and was now her usual, attractive, pleasing-to-the-eye self. 

“I have a job for you.” 

Though she said nothing, her expression was dubious. 

“The barony is getting a collection of plucky orphans. You’re going to be their caretaker.” 

“Say again?” Hollyhock’s ears went from relaxed to rigid. 

“You like foals. You said it yourself. In fact, that’s part of the reason why you ended up here, as I recall.” As he spoke, she frowned, and this frown’s intensity almost made it a scowl. “So, that’s what you’ll be doing from now on.” 

“I like my own foals,” she said, almost whining. “Look, Sweet Relish keeps me busy.” 

“Oh, I understand. Which is why I specified that we get older foals, and other creatures that need supervision, but can otherwise care for themselves.” He ignored the sour stare that Hollyhock gave him, and smiled down at Amber and Lemongrass. “There’s a burro that needs your care—” 

“I don’t know a thing about burros,” Hollyhock blurted out in protest. 

“You know what, I didn’t either. But then I found that I didn’t need to know about burros. They’re just like us. Have the same needs and wants. The same feelings.” 

“But I—” 

“But you have more excuses to do nothing and contribute nothing? Express Delivery is a new mom too, and she does all kinds of stuff around here. It’s time you had a job, Holly. It starts today. Tarantula is in the infirmary”—he shivered when he thought of the still-twitching spider dragged into there—“and you’re coming with me so you can meet him. Also, we need to talk. He has some special needs.” 

“I dunno about this—” 

“You don’t need to know. You only need to do. Holly, you’re not being asked to do this, you’re being told. Now, come along with me. There’s a few things you need to know about Tarantula.” 



 

Fearful of what he might see, Sundance pushed open the massive door to Corduroy’s infirmary. He cringed—and saw nothing. No hairy horror awaited. In fact, there was no sign of the spider at all. Corduroy had Tarantula on a scale and she was writing something down on a notepad. As for the burro colt himself, he was clean. Spotless. Perhaps even cleaner than he was in Fluttershy’s care. He sat on the scales, obedient, calm, and quiet. 

The fact that the spider had vanished in such a manner was truly unnerving. 

“Doors are for entering and exiting,” Corduroy said, “not standing in.” 

“Oh, of course.”

He came in, and Hollyhock followed, along with her foals. He glanced around, wary of the ginormous eight-legged horror, but it was nowhere to be seen. Unnerved, he cleared his throat, heard the door shut behind him, and he crossed the room to stand near Tarantula, who seemed especially tiny with Corduroy towering over him. 

Why, there wasn’t even a puddle of ichor on the floor, or stray hairs. 

“Holly, this is Tarantula Sombrero. He’s been abused. Not physically, from what I understand. Emotionally. Severe neglect. His development has been a bit stunted, or so I’m told, but he’s still pretty bright. He’s quiet, shy, and not at all a troublemaker. So everything will be—” 

“He’s so tiny.” Hollyhock’s voice almost cracked. “So helpless. So tiny… so tiny… who would neglect him? Why? Why, Sundance? Who would do that? Why would that happen?” She moved with sudden startling alacrity and crossed the room. “Why would somepony neglect him? He’s so sad looking… and tiny… why?” 

Sometimes, there was a giant spider in the outhouse, and the problem seemed insurmountable. At other times, some problems just sorted themselves out, like now. Sundance sensed that this wouldn’t be an issue. Hollyhock was on the very verge of tears, and he waited, silent, while she sorted herself out. 

“Would you like some breakfast?” asked Hollyhock. 

Tarantula looked at Sundance first, then Corduroy, and then he studied Hollyhock. A faint single nod was his reply. Corduroy put away her pen and her notepad, patted the little burro atop his head with her broad paw, and then lifted him from the scale. She held him up, examined him in the light, turning him this way, and that way. After her final examination, she set him down upon the floor, patted his backside, and smoothed out his unruly mane with a few gentle strokes. 

“Amber…” 

“Yes, Mom?” 

“I want you to keep an eye on him. Don’t let him or your brother out of your sight.” Hollyhock turned a stern eye upon her daughter. “And I don’t want you slipping off either, little lady.” 

“Aww, I’ve been good…” 

“You have,” Hollyhock replied, “and that is why I am worried. You’re up to something. Waiting for me to let down my guard.” After a good snort, she relaxed a little, smiled down at her daughter, and her ears fell into a more relaxed position. 

“Tarantula, this is Hollyhock,” Sundance said to the small colt. “She’s going to be your caretaker. Do as she says.” 

A simple, agreeable nod was the colt’s silent response. 

“Amber, little Tarantula here, he loves Hitut—” 

“You do?” Amber went from sleepy to excited in the blink of an eye. When the burro shied away, she calmed herself a bit, but still practically vibrated in place with unfettered excitement. 

“We’ll talk about it over breakfast.” Hollyhock gestured with her hoof. “Form a line. Amber, you bring up the rear, because you’re my biggest girl. Tarantula, I want you in the middle, where Amber can keep an eye on you. Lemon, I want you right behind me. Now come along.” 

Sundance watched as they made for the door in a single file line, and Tarantula cast one final parting glance up at Corduroy. He kept his silence as they left, and was relieved that Hollyhock took to her job like a duck to water. For now, at least. Problems might happen later, but that was later, and it could be dealt with then. 

“He’s troubled,” Corduroy said seconds after the door clicked shut. 

“That much is obvious,” Sundance replied. 

“I worry we’re not prepared to deal with troubled foals, Sundance.” 

He gave his nurse’s words careful consideration. 

“But I also understand the necessity of what we’re doing. This is how we get established, I suppose. You hired a diamond dog out of necessity, because you needed a nurse and a midwife. You are building your barony on castaways, rejects, and the unwanted. Things will probably work out, but I still have some concerns.” 

“I was reassured that he’s still young enough to make a good recovery.” He paused, because he spoke of something that he had little understanding of. “Fluttershy got him socialised a bit, and mended his sense of trust. It’s up to us to do the rest.” 

“This isn’t a laceration that I can stitch together.” Corduroy folded her arms over her girth and then sat down on a tall wooden stool. “This is no infection that I can lance and drain the pus from. While I have some knowledge about this stuff from studying Marble’s books, spending the night with him last night, it really sank in just how little I know.” 

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Corduroy.” 

“Hard facts are my currency, and last night, I found myself short changed. He wouldn’t stop crying. Like, there was nothing that I could do to make him feel better. I didn’t get anything done. He finally collapsed from exhaustion and went to sleep. And this morning, when he woke up, he acted as if nothing had happened. Seemed totally fine. And that… that bothers me, Sundance. It’s beyond what I understand.” 

“We have to make it work, Corduroy. Twilight Velvet has agreed to give us much needed supplies, a teacher, and even monthly financial assistance in exchange for taking in a few troubled tots. I trust that she knows what she is doing, and if we run into trouble that we can’t deal with, I’m positive that she’ll step in. She’ll send help. For now, we have to trust in the good that we can do, and hope that it is enough.” 

Corduroy’s triangular ears drooped as she reached up to rub between her eyes. 

“Honestly, I thought Hollyhock would fight me.” 

“Bah!” The diamond dog nurse made a dismissive wave with her free paw. “That mare, she can’t help but mother things. It’s in her nature. Just look at how she is with that goofy owlcoon. Her problem is with you, Sundance.” 

“So I’ve noticed.” 

“She’s going to smother that poor burro. He’ll be stressed, I think. Until he isn’t.” 

He sighed, unsure of what to say about that. 

“Holly really doesn’t like you. I can’t figure out why. Oh, I have a few guesses, but I’d rather deal in what I know than speculation. There’s some resentment there.” 

“I think it is because Amber likes me so much.” 

“Me too.” Corduroy’s voice was a muted, grumpy growl. “I am dog-tired.” 

“Get some sleep, Corduroy.” 

“I can’t.” She reached up with both paws and massaged her saggy jowls, which made her ears flop from side to side. “Too much to do. Stump threw his back out yesterday when he tried to show everypony how young and fit he was. All this talk about him getting old has him in a real snit. Rocky Ridge has a urinary tract infection. Speaking of which, I need to go and check on her. She was running a low-grade fever when I did my late night rounds. And Plowshare has infected, inflamed hemorrhoids. He’s gonna make me chase him, I just know it.” 

“Uh… um…” Sundance desperately tried to scrub what was just said from his mind. 

“Plus, I have a spider in the freezer that needs sorting out…” 
> Stumped
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flying low, slow, and steady, Sundance began his bombing run. Wings rigid, he settled into a smooth glide, which allowed his body to be mostly still, all with the hope that his aim might improve. In his fetlock, he gripped a javelin, a gift from Scram. Maybe an accidental gift, as it was found in the wooden cargo crate, along with a note from Scram. He wasn’t sure what to do with his eyes, as he needed them to fly straight ahead, but he also had to line up his target, a soft, rotten stump in the middle of a field of wildflowers. 

As he flew over the stump, he let go and allowed gravity to do all the hard work. 

The javelin fell, heavy point first, and struck into the soil about a yard away from the stump. This kept happening, much to his dismay. Same spot every time. It was amazing, actually, just how reliably he hit the target—but the wrong target. Every single time though. Just a yard off. Frustrated, he grumbled a bit—sounds that had no words—and he banked so that he could swoop down to retrieve his javelin. How could he miss like this yet hit the same spot with every pass? He’d started weeks ago, and all of his hard work and repeated efforts had only this as a result. 

With a flap of his wings, he broke groundward in a power dive, pulled up at the last minute, soared mere inches over the swaying wildflowers, snatched the javelin from where it stood, and then began his ascent. He shook the dirt and grass from the leaf-shaped tip, scowled, and then increased his speed so that he could position himself for his next bombing run. 

Pegasus ponies were known for their skill with the javelin, and all of his failures left Sundance feeling rather inadequate. Oh, he could hit a target… just not the target he wanted, it seemed. Always a yard off, in just about the same spot every single time. If only he could figure out what he was doing wrong. In a bit of a snit, he leveled out, flexed his primaries to grip the unseen currents of magic that rose from the earth—an act done by instinct—and then he began his low, slow approach with the rotten stump as his target. 

The steel javelin was both warm and cool in his fetlock; warmest in the center, where he gripped it with his fetlock, but the metal remained cool beyond the tightest part of his grasp. A brave butterfly swooshed by his face and was nearly sucked into his wake. This distraction was ignored though, as Sundance was determined that today would be the day he would hit the stump. The warm sun soaked into his scarred back and left his muscles hot. Ears back, eyes narrowed, javelin raised at the ready, Sundance knew that his approach was perfect—but how he knew this was unknown to him. 

Once more, he let go… 

And yet again, the javelin stabbed into the earth a mere yard beyond the stump. 

“Oh, fronk me!” he shouted, thankful that his mother was in a whole different time zone. 

He somersaulted in mid-air, doubled back on his flight path, and dropped right on top of the stump. Glaring, scowling, teeth bared, he panted out all of his disgust and his fury while he stared at the steel javelin a yard away from the stump. This was intolerable. Was something wrong with his eyes? His method? What was he doing wrong? His approach? It made him so angry that he wanted to stab something—if only he could hit his target. 

No cup of tea could cure his seething rage. A roll in the grass would not salvage his mood. The butterflies and bees bore witness to his savage fury. Hackles raised, teeth bared, his tail lashing the air behind him, his ears rigid with apoplectic rage, he allowed a truly fearsome growl to come reverberating out of him, and he did nothing to hold it back. It was the sort of anger that he always feared, the anger that both his mother and father warned him about, an anger that good pegasus ponies always repressed and held in. 

Except alone, all by himself in a field, Sundance let it out and reveled in the hot sensation. His fevered skin rippled over twitching muscles, his nostrils quivered, opening wide and almost closing, and his sides heaved with every heated breath. Sweat rolled off his back, soaked into his feathers, and his mane was plastered to his neck. What terrible fury he held within, what nightmarish temper existed beneath the thin veneer of civilised pegasus. A hot-blooded brute thrashed about, demanding to be free, and Sundance could almost feel something bucking around inside of him. 

“I could tell you what you are doing wrong…” 

At the sound of the strange voice, Sundance yanked his head up, his ears pivoted wildly to locate the source, and his eyes darted about in every possible direction. He whirled left, then right, then turned himself about, his anger all but forgotten. His tail though, was still quite persnickety, and it showed. After a good look about, he spotted no signs of his visitor, which alarmed him. There was a copse of trees some distance away, and he concluded that had to be the spot, as there was no other cover. 

“Look, if I was hunting you, you’d already be food. You don’t do anything to watch your own ass. When my insomnia won’t let me sleep, I like to watch you.” 

“Uh… really?” 

“Yeah,” the gritty voice said, “you’re a regular laugh riot.” 

The quip caused his jaw muscles to clench and Sundance’s eyes transformed into angry slits. 

“Like right now. I mean, you’re angry, that much is obvious, but there is nothing threatening about you. At all. In the slightest. Which I feel I can get away with saying, because your aim is terrible.” 

“How about you show yourself?” he demanded. 

“The tough-guy approach. Admirable. But if I showed myself, the tough-guy act would turn into a puddle between your hind legs. I’m better off as a mysterious voice.” 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“I live here,” was the smug reply. “Uh, in fact, I’ve lived here for a while now, and I’ve been keeping a watch over you and your little patch of quiet paradise. Before you ask why, I’ll tell you; because it is now my little patch of quiet paradise. I’ve earned my keep as a guard. You just don’t know it.” 

“Well,” Sundance said as he drew himself up to his full height, “you’ve done a lousy job. There was a giant ass-eating spider in the shitter just this morning.” 

“I suppose there’s no point in telling you about the owlbear I chased away.” 

Sundance paused to consider. If this was true, then some thanks was in order. However, if this was false, a clever ruse to gain his confidence—except that he had no way of knowing. Uncertain now, he reconsidered his poor attitude, and chose a more noble approach. He relaxed his posture a bit, allowed his ears to unkink, and made his tail behave. With no idea of who, or what he dealt with, it was better to take a neutral, cautious approach. 

“Yeah, that’s more you, from what I’ve observed. I can almost take you seriously now.” 

“Do you have a name?” 

“Yes,” came the reply. “I do, in fact, have a name. I bet you’d like to know it, Sundance.” 

Ugh, this irked him a great deal, but he maintained his noble bearing. “May I have the pleasure of your name?” 

“This really is a better version of you than the tough angry you. You just look silly.” 

He tried again. “May I please know the name of my most watchful subject, the one who lives on my land without my consent or my knowledge?” 

“Actually… you granted hunting rights. I came to hunt, and then I just never left. Found a nice cave, killed the wyvern in the cave—which I should mention, probably would have hunted your peasants sooner or later—and my hunting trip became an extended stay. I’m not welcome back home.” 

“I wonder why…” 

“The whole smart-ass thing doesn’t really work for you, Sundance. For one thing, it’s just not in your nature to be a jerk, and two… from where I stand, you’re food. I ate the wyvern. You’re far more snack-sized.” 

This… this was unsettling. “I would very much like to know your name. Policy, you see. As the Baron, your Baron, I like to know my subjects. My residents. The last thing I want is to be called an aloof, out of touch noble.” 

“You’re throwing the javelin as you’re right over the stump. There’s a thing called momentum, and it is transferred to what you throw. The javelin doesn’t fall straight down, your momentum causes it fall diagonally. All you need to do is let go sooner, before the stump is directly below you, and you’d probably hit bullseyes every single time. But don’t get a big head about that, or anything. It’s not skill, or anything special, it is just what pegasus ponies do. Goodness though, some of your kind are just full of themselves.” 

It was hard, resisting the urge to facewing. Every muscle in his body demanded it be done, but that wasn’t a noble thing to do. He almost ached with the irresistible urge to swat his own brains out. It made so much sense. Why didn’t he know this? Sheepish, embarrassed, he didn’t know what to say, how to respond, or even how to behave right now. This was awkward, the sort of awkward that just endured and grew worse with each second that passed. 

“If I were you, I’d be embarrassed too.” 

There was a faint whistle as Sundance inhaled through clenched teeth. 

“Yes, I do in fact, know what you are thinking and feeling. It’s a curse. And part of the reason why I’m here.” 

He found himself intrigued. “Just how is it that you know what I’m thinking?” 

“Funny story,” the voice replied. “Allow me to start at the beginning. A long, long, long, long, long time ago, Princess Luna had a brilliant idea about creating a race of super-soldiers. Fine idea, by all accounts, at least from what little I know. She began cataloguing the toughest, meanest, most enduring creatures in all the land. When she couldn’t find what she was looking for, she had what she wanted custom bred, because the Royal Pony Sisters had that sort of power back in the day. They could tell you, ‘Fronk that,’ and you’d go and fronk that if you knew what was good for you. 

“So Princess Luna bred creatures of nightmarish proportion, and while I’m sure we were pretty awesome, we just didn’t have that little special something-something that Princess Luna hoped to find. She bred herself with us, her own creation, but still, no joy. So she did what any self-respecting lunatic would do in her situation. She shaved off a sliver of her own soul, and spliced it into us, her nightmarish offspring. 

“More specifically, she sheared off a portion of her soul that allows her to dreamwalk, and read minds, the part that makes her a powerful psychic. We shared her blood, and then we were infused with some of her soul, which spliced right in because of the whole shared blood thing. After that, we were purpose bred. Those of us who showed promise and had the desired traits were bred with others who also had those traits. This happened for over a thousand years or so, with a lot of successes, but also some pretty colossal failures. Like me. I’m a tragic failure. 

“And that’s how Princess Luna created a species of nigh-unstoppable psychic super-soldiers. Oh, and sad, pathetic, unwanted mental cripples, like myself. The successes are flaunted in public, and are now the stuff of legends. As for the failures, we’re politely asked to not draw attention to ourselves.” 

With all these words still heavy in the air, Sundance deflated. The bitterness and resentment in the scratchy, gritty voice was impossible to ignore. Every word carried with it palpable pain, which slipped into his ears and lodged into his brain. He stood there, mute, unable to respond, and he feared that his silence might make him seem callous, or otherwise uncaring. 

“You have nothing to worry about… I can read your mind. And that’s the problem. My problem. Why I am off by myself. That’s the reason I live alone, away from others. I can’t turn my telepathy off. Which means I always know what others are thinking… and what my own kind think of me. Not a great life, really. Everypony knows that you are a mistake… a flaw… a failure. Kind of sucks, but what can you do?” 

Then, after a pause, “Well, I know what I did. I left. Now I’m here. And while it feels nice to talk, I’m already getting a headache. I think I’ll be going.” 

“Wait,” Sundance said. “You never told me your name!” 

There was no response. The copse of trees rustled, and then something immense sprang up from the treetops. A massive, shaggy creature with leathery, batlike wings rose up into the sky. It—she—Sundance thought it was a she, but it was really difficult to discern. Whatever it might be, it slowly rose up into the sky, a silhouette cut from the very fabric of nightmares. Smoke curled from her mouth, as if she was some terrifying steam-powered abomination. 

He could not tell what colour she was, only that she was dark. Dusky. A creature draped in ambiguous greys, blacks, and indistinguishable hues of blue. Parts of her wings were almost translucent in the sun, which made them appear blue, though they might very well be some other colour. Her body was magnificent, it was as if a pony had been bred with a locomotive, and he could not look away. Sunlight glinted off of her mirrored goggles when she cast one final, parting glance in his direction. 

Then, she was gone. He watched her go, mesmerised. Spellbound. Enraptured. Enthralled. Engorged. It was only after she was gone, a speck in the distance, that he noticed his arousal. Never in his life had he ever been so aroused. She was perfect, beautiful, a creature made of muscle and violence, with a hard, chiseled body. 

He desperately hoped that he would see her again. 
> Shocking behaviour
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance’s eyes traveled down the length of his javelin. He had to know. One more toss and then he would head home, because a cup of tea sounded excellent right about now. He hovered in the air without effort, studied the javelin held in his fetlock, and he tested the heft of it. The unknown stranger’s words echoed in his ears, especially that part about bullseyes, and he dared to hope that he could be more than a daredevil pegasus from the city. 

His peasants needed him to be a warrior… 

The issue, as he saw it, was that he wasn’t raised and trained to fight from birth. There was nothing about him that made him a good soldier. His mark was most certainly not a martial mark. Learning to fight would take time, effort, and sacrifice no doubt, if he wanted to be somewhat good at it. He had no javelin mark, but he did seem to have the natural sense of aim common to pegasus ponies, so maybe, just maybe, that was enough. 

Of course, throwing pointy sticks at things didn’t make him a warrior, but it was a start. 

Not much of a start, perhaps, but as with everything else, he would make due. 

With a sudden, swift, almost fish-like motion, he darted through the air, picked up speed with remarkable alacrity, and then transitioned into a smooth powerglide. It felt right, natural, just like the javelin he held in his fetlock. This sort of movement was second nature to him; expeditious flight with minimal effort. His spine was now as straight as the javelin he held, everything from head to tail was a level line of near-perfection. Unseen currents of aether danced along his primaries, and static caused pinpoint motes of light to flash in an almost glittery display. Sundance sank all of his concentration into maintaining a still, straight line, because jerky flight would adversely affect his aim. 

As the stump grew ever-closer, his heart raced and blood pounded through his ears. Hyper-reality began to creep into his vision as it sometimes did. Colours gained sharper contrast. His depth perception heightened. Every blade of grass below gained definition. This was just like the time he’d slalomed the smokestacks. Time itself seemed to slow down just a bit and distant horizons dulled as his eyes focused solely on all that was near. Fluffy bits of pollen whirled about in curious slow-motion, butterflies seemed to crawl through the air, and though Sundance was unaware of it, a vapour trail of faint blue trailed off behind him. 

Squiggles of electricity arced along the length of the javelin and the stench of ozone permeated the meadow. Like an oncoming thunderhead, Sundance drew ever-closer to the stump, and he readied himself for release, sweet, sweet release. Beads of sweat rolled along his glistening sides, and were sucked into the pale blue vapour trail that billowed out behind him. His eyes took on a fierce blue glow, and vivid blue arcs of static danced along the fine hairs of his ears. 

Just before the stump was below him, he released. 

There was a deafening thunderclap that almost knocked him from the sky, and this was accompanied by a brilliant flash of eye-searing light that blinded him. Warmth traveled through his body, his limbs, his everything, and he felt his guts boil within him. Thunder pealed through the meadow, echoing to and fro, but it was loudest between his ears. The taste of copper tingled on his tongue, and static tickled his wings. 

He was utterly, completely blind, and could not see. 

What had happened? 

That was unknown. 

Where was the ground? 

Somewhere below him, though his sense of direction was fried at the moment. 

Down might very well be up. 

Rather than panic, he hovered. His body could be trusted to automatically right itself in a hover, even if his sense of direction was currently fizzled out. The sensation of a disoriented tumble corrected itself, and he felt everything go still. Little by little, his vision cleared, but motes of dancing blue orbs swam lazily just out of reach. The first pangs of a headache arrived, and his stomach rumbled out a demand for food. He felt depleted, drained, empty. Powerful thirst parched his throat. His muscles cried out, trembled, and every nerve in his body telegraphed distress in jolting bursts. 

The first hints of green appeared in his vision—the grass below—but the blue of the sky was indistinguishable from the blue flashes in his vision. For a second or three, he thought he might throw up, but his guts recovered as a powerful sense of euphoria washed over him in soothing waves. As more of his vision returned, he peered around, he squinted, but little could be seen. 

When he caught a whiff of smoke, he worried that he might be on fire, or perhaps smouldering. In a near-panic, he whipped his tail around and began brushing his front hooves over his body, trying to reach as many places as possible. Nothing felt on fire, but plenty of things were a bit too warm for his tastes. Even more alarming, he seemed to be sinking—either that, or his brain played tricks on him. 

No, he was sinking, of this he could now be certain. No matter how he flapped his wings, he couldn’t seem to catch air. Squinting downward, he tried to judge his altitude, and saw that he wasn’t that high up at all. Raising his wings above his back, he just let go of the air and allowed himself to drop. He plopped into a patch of wildflowers and sent a few startled butterflies on their way. 

He was so hungry that he was tempted to eat the grass, wildflowers, and every green thing to be found in the meadow. For the first time, he noticed that his backside was hot, perhaps hotter than a cup of tea. It seemed as though he were branded on both hips, and when he whipped his head around to the right, he noticed a curious electrical glow coming from his cutie mark. Nothing had changed—at least he couldn’t spot any changes—but his mark did have a retina-clenching glow that was rapidly fading. 

The smell of smoke got his attention once more. He sniffed, glanced around, and spotted the dull grey whorls of rising smoke. More curious than scared, he stumbled over in that general direction, and as his bleary vision cleared up a bit more, he noticed the javelin protruding from the stump. It was not dead center, much to his dismay, but had struck the edge, and was now lodged in a knotty, knobby root. Little tongues of flame lapped at the rotten wood. 

Fire! 

Though not quite panicked, Sundance reacted. As the little flames licked the crumbling wood of the old stump, he thought about what to do. The fire needed to be put out before the whole meadow was ablaze. While he worried about the fire, his stomach gurgled in protest of the profound existential emptiness it experienced. A hunger quite unlike any other gnawed at his insides. Unable to fly, Sundance’s solution wouldn’t be found in the clouds, and he had no bucket to haul water. 

There was only one thing to do… 

One course of action… 

Rushing forward, he closed the distance between himself and the stump, stood over the fire, and lifted his right leg. A second later, the fire hissed, fizzled, spat, and crackled as it drowned beneath a foamy stream of musky pegasus urine. Fire and urine, when combined, caused a terrible stench, which Sundance discovered. His nose crinkled from the antagonising aroma. Urine sizzled and steamed on contact with the still-hot javelin, and Sundance allowed himself a birdlike whistle of relief as he emptied his bladder. 

“I am the Rainbringer,” Sundance croaked as he wiggled his hips to rid himself of the last few drops. He thought of his conversation with Sweetie Belle, which now seemed so long ago. “Not only have I brought the rain, but today I brought the thunder. Whew!” 

With the fire out, he had himself a better look. The shiny steel of the javelin was now blackened. It was still hot, too hot to touch, and so he left it be. As for the stump, it was scorched, and very much looked as though it had been struck by lightning. One particularly bad cramp in his stomach almost took him to the ground, and it was this that finally pushed him into panic territory. He needed food, was unable to fly, and was quite some distance from home. Something was wrong with him, though he had no idea what it might be. 

For now, the javelin would have to be left behind—getting home was far more important. 



 

Corduroy set a cup of tea down upon the cluttered table with a muffled clink. Her frown distorted her jowls, which made her look far more upset than she actually was. With the cup of tea now down on the table, she leaned in close, grabbed Sundance by the ear, and began to examine his eyes. He squirmed a bit, but she had a good grip on his ear, which meant that getting away was impossible. 

“You’re dehydrated,” she said during her prolonged invasion of Sundance’s equinal space. “So much so that your eyes are a little dried out.” The sudden movement of her triangular ears upset her patchwork beanie, and it slid over her furrowed brows. 

When she let go of his ear, Sundance sighed with relief. 

“Drink,” the stern nurse commanded while she pointed with her thick paw-finger. 

There was no need to tell Sundance twice, and he began lapping away at his cup of tea, which had a welcome warmth. It was sweeter than he expected, and had plenty of milk. Corduroy practically hovered over him, and he felt rather foalish at the moment. Alas, poor Corduroy needed sleep, or at least some rest, but the stoic diamond dog would endure—that much was certain. 

Paradox slipped in through the door bearing a wooden tray loaded down with food. Like Corduroy, her face was pinched with concern. She put the tray down, sat down on a stool across from Sundance, and rested both of her forelegs upon the edge of the table as she shoved the tray closer to him. 

“Magical depletion,” Paradox said as she got settled. “Happens to unicorns all the time. Happens most when magical exams are due in school. Half the class or more typically drops over.” 

“Yeah, but what happened?” asked Corduroy. 

“Sundance used magic. Like, a lot of it. All at once. Possibly the whole of his reserves. An uncontrolled surge.” Paradox leaned over the table, intrigued. “Some pegasus ponies generate wind—and not just from their backsides. Wind weavers can generate intense gusts of wind and psychokinetically control them, to some degree. Other pegasus ponies can generate electricity. Princess Celestia has pegasus guards that can deliver a devastating jolt, and some of them can administer lethal shocks. From what little I know, almost all pegasus ponies have magic, it’s just that most of them never develop it. I mean, it is how they fly. And beyond flight, most of them lack the interest to find out what else they can do.” 

“Hmm,” Corduroy hmmed while she absentmindedly scratched behind Sundance’s ears. 

“Pony magic has two distinct parts. Well, more than that”—Paradox raised her right hoof and held it out in front of her during her pause—“a lot more than that, but for the sake of simplicity, we’ll just say two for now.” She drew in a deep breath. “All ponies are inherently psychic. It is natural for us. A central part of our minds. But it manifests in different ways. A unicorn’s telekinesis is half psychic energy and half magical manifestation. Our horns give us fine control. Now, for pegasus ponies, as an example, and electrokinesis specifically, the brain channels latent psychic energy and a bunch of crazy things happens. 

“You get a lot of excited electrons and electromagnetic currents, and the brain interacts with primal forces of nature. But pegasus ponies lack horns… so you get chaotic, uncontrolled bursts that are channeled through the body. Think of a unicorn horn as a fine writing pen, and our magic is like writing. Pegasus magic is more like hoof-painting, or rolling around in paint.” 

“That actually makes a whole lot of sense,” Corduroy remarked, still scratching. 

“I don’t have a lot of magic,” Paradox continued. “Because of that, I rely more upon the psychic aspect of my mind. Base matter manipulation and various types of kinetic manipulation. I am not a powerful magician, I suppose it could be said, but I am a capable psychic. I control physics more than I do magic. Make no mistake though… I am the Boom-Bringer.” 

“So…” This word came out as a sigh from Corduroy. “Sundance needs magic lessons.” 

“Uh, maybe?” Paradox shrugged. “Sundance needs magic training. Which is not the same as magic lessons. Magic training is more akin to… uh, potty training.” 

When Sundance started to lift his head away from his teacup to protest, Corduroy shoved him down and almost pushed his nose into the frothy brown liquid. Paradox was grinning now, a rare grin that was pleasantly sunny and radiated good disposition. Sundance went back to lapping up his tea, and eyeballed the food on the tray. 

“Magic training is important for little unicorns. Just like potty training. You have to learn how to hold everything in, and how to let everything out. You don’t want embarrassing leaks, or sudden blowouts.” 

“So it is like learning the difference between farting and shitting,” Corduroy said. 

Paradox’s expression turned blank. “Uh…” 

“Are you suggesting I just shat myself?” asked Sundance. 

“Drink your tea,” was Corduroy’s calm, cool response. 

Across the table, Paradox tittered, an odd sound. 

“You went to fart sparks and shat thunder, from the sounds of it.” Corduroy resumed her soft scratching while she spoke. “Consider yourself confined to the infirmary for observation.” 

“But I—” 

“No buts.” The stern nurse adopted a harsh tone. “You are dangerously dehydrated. I am unfamiliar with magical depletion so I’d rather err on the side of caution. Paradox, any advice?” 

“Well, the hot shivers will probably set in soon… that usually happens a few hours after. After that comes sleepiness and fatigue. Right now, my best advice is plenty of liquids, and lots of food. If you don’t get enough food and drink now, the hot shivers will be so much worse. Like, unbearable. I know from experience. Remember, I was raised by earth ponies, who didn’t know a thing about this stuff, and I, uh, um, well, I didn’t get proper magic training until I was enrolled in school, which was, uh, well, it was embarrassing. A lot of us, we, uh, we suffered from this, uh, predicament. And now I feel funny for laughing about this.” 

“You shat yourself in class plenty of times, didn’t you?” asked Corduroy. 

Paradox slumped over. “Oh yeah… I most certainly did. In a manner of speaking, of course. I’ve suffered all the usual wizardly embarrassments, such as premature detonation and arcanile horn dysfunction. Power incontinence. Once, when I was a filly, and I was just starting school, I accidentally fireballed when I went to light a candle. Princess Celestia had to give me a pep-talk. I was so embarrassed, and wanted to go home. She told me that fireballs happen, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“School for unicorns sounds hard.” Corduroy sat down and pushed the tray of food even closer to Sundance. 

“It is,” Paradox replied. “Once, during transmutations, I botched a spell and peed banana-flavoured milk for a week. And I know it was banana-flavoured milk because it was tested. The school nurse was more than a little worried.” She turned and smiled at Sundance. “At least with you all you’ve got to worry about is electrical discharge. That’s safe. Mostly.” 

“You know,” Corduroy remarked, “one shudders to think that most unicorns in Equestria don’t get a proper magical education…” 
> Tummy troubles
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance awoke to the blurry sight of a burro that stared at him with intense, sad eyes, and upon his arrival into consciousness, his heart ached with sympathy for what had to be the most miserable looking creature that he’d ever seen. The colt’s long ears hung limp against the sides of his face, which gave him the appearance of a melancholy rabbit. More than a little befuddled, out of sorts, and brain-fogged, Sundance tried to make sense of this sad new world that he found himself in. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

To which the burro colt replied with a shrug, “Morning.” 

“Morning?” How could this be, Sundance wondered. Morning was quite a revelation. Somehow, he’d slept the afternoon, the whole of the night, and missed the dawn. His body ached, it needed a good stretch, but he didn’t feel like moving. After a yawn and a good ear waggle, he asked, “Why are you in the infirmary?” 

Tarantula, who sat on the next bed over shrugged again, his head tilted to one side, and he pointed at his stomach with his left front hoof. “Tummy ache.” 

“Tummy ache?” Sundance lifted his head from his pillow, which was far too warm to be comfortable. Yes, this pillow needed to be flipped over, so the cool side could be enjoyed. He did so without taking his eyes off the colt, and then found that much to his dismay, the other side was just as warm. 

What a terrible way to start the morning. 

“Worry,” Tarantula said, as if one word explained everything. 

Sundance shifted his body around and began to flex his achy joints. The hot shivers, is that what Paradox had called them? He had a vague memory of sweating buckets while his teeth chattered. It was an unpleasant flu-like experience and he wondered how unicorns dealt with it. He almost flung his blankets off, but then thought better of it. 

“So you’ve worried yourself into a tummy ache?” 

The tiny colt turned away. 

“No, no, it is nothing to be ashamed of. I’m trying to help.” 

Tarantula returned his sad eyes to Sundance. 

“What has you worried?” 

“Everything,” the young colt replied. 

“Oh.” It dawned upon Sundance that this was no mere worry, but anxiety, which concerned him. This was his big issue in trying to talk to foals: one had to guess what they were actually saying, which meant that one had to pay extraordinary attention to everything said, and every little detail. “What has you worried, little guy?” 

He saw the burro colt raise both forelegs and shrug. 

Not one to give up, Sundance tried again. “Talk to me. What has you worried? You can tell me. I won’t be upset. I just want to help you.” 

Tarantula hesitated. His mouth opened, he inhaled, but then no words came out. A low moan escaped him, he rubbed his stomach, and then squirmed around on the bed. Sundance watched with a neutral expression, and hoped that the little colt might share his troubles. After all, he didn’t want to answer to Twilight Velvet—or Fluttershy for that matter—so it was important that he did his job as a caretaker. The issue, as he saw it, was that he had no clue what to do. 

“Holly keeps hugging me.” 

“Oh.” Sundance nodded to show that he listened. “And that bothers you. Do you want me to ask her to stop that? I mean, she might not listen to you, but she’ll listen to me.” 

“I kinda like it,” the colt said in a low whisper. “And I kinda don’t.” 

“Oh.” Suddenly self-conscious that he might perhaps say ‘oh’ a bit too much, Sundance wasn’t sure what to say. “Um…” No, that wasn’t much better, and he cut himself off. “Uh…” The third time had no charm at all, and Sundance wondered if there was something wrong with his brain. 

“Flutternice hugged me too. She sent me away.” 

This time, Sundance didn’t even make an attempt. 

“When Holly hugs me, I get scared. Don’t know why.” 

“Tarantula”—Sundance chose his words with great care, as if they were the most important words he might ever say—“Fluttershy did her best to heal you and get you ready for your new home. She had to send you away. That’s just the way of things. This is your home now. Look… Holly, she has her problems, but she’s a great mom. That’s kind of her thing. I’m pretty sure that if something tried to take you away from her, she’d fight them. What I’m trying to say is, if she’s hugging you, it’s because you’re hers now.” 

“I want to belong,” the colt said in a voice that broke mid-sentence. 

We all want to belong, Sundance thought, but didn’t say. He thought of Turmeric, then Corduroy, and then himself. He thought of school—a time when he didn’t belong—and whilst he sorted his thoughts, it occurred to him that he belonged here, of all places. It was only here, in the hinterlands east of Canterlot that he found a place where he belonged—and found himself. A place where he was comfortable in his own skin. 

“I want to like it,” the colt said as he tucked his chin against his chest, wrapped his forelegs around his tiny middle, and hugged himself. “I don’t like being alone. Everything scares me. I want to feel safe. But when she hugs me I worry and my tummy hurts.” 

“Things will get better,” Sundance found himself saying without much thought. “They’ll get better, I promise. You won’t be sent away. I know that it is hard right now, but you have to let Holly love you. It’ll get easier. For all of her faults, she’s a good mom. She’s your mom now—” 

Tarantula’s head lifted suddenly. “That scares me.” 

“Look, it’s scary, but you need to let it happen. It’ll probably be weird, and scary, and uh, it’ll probably feel strange and there might be some tummy aches. You’ll probably wonder if she really wants you, or if you’ll be sent away, or if you’ll be neglected again. I don’t know how to get you through those tough spots… but Holly probably can. If you let her. Of course, she might just smother you and refuse to let you go until you come around… which now that I think about it, might make things worse.” 

“Something wrong with me.” Tarantula raised his right hoof, tapped it against his head, all while his eyes welled with tears. “Not right. Not good. Not wantable.” 

Sundance wasn’t exactly sure what had been said, and he tried to understand the colt’s words. He thought about them, with great care and consideration, and after several long seconds, he asked, “Are you scared that Holly won’t want you because you get scared and worried?” 

“Not fun. Not happy. Not like others.” Tarantula collapsed into a heap and curled up into a tight fetal ball. 

“I think”—Sundance was fearful of his own words even as he said them—“that you being just the way you are makes Holly want you more. She has a need to nurture, that mare. I don’t know much about her, but I do know that. Look, little guy… what you have is called ‘anxiety.’ Lots of, uh, creatures have it. Having anxiety doesn’t make you bad, it just means that you need a little help… and some ponies”—he corrected himself—“some creatures, they want to help others. Like Fluttershy. That’s their thing. It’s what they do. It is what gives them purpose. Now, I can’t say for certain, but I’m pretty sure that Holly is that way. So she’s going to want you because you’re troubled.” 

Nothing. No response. Tarantula remained curled up and the steadfast silence held. Sundance tried to think of more to say, but the well had run dry. Perhaps the problem was that he was trying to discuss this like an adult, and Tarantula was most certainly not an adult. It was hard talking to foals to begin with—but this moment in particular felt impossible. Sundance wanted to get out of bed, and go over to hug the miserable little burro, but he worried that doing so might actually cause the little guy to feel even worse. 

Thankfully, reprieve came in the form of the door opening, and Corduroy returning. Sundance was eager to see her. She appeared well-rested, which was good, and he saw the look of intense concern that she typically wore. Today, she wore a blue smock, along with her patchwork beanie, and the blue was a nice contrast with her bone white hide,. She crossed the room, hunkered down beside Tarantula’s bed, and gently poked him with her paw thumb. 

“You alive?” she asked. 

“He has anxiety,” Sundance said to his nurse. 

“Yeah, thought so. While I feel that it is better to sort these things out and deal with the cause, I think I’ll resort to a little medication—” 

“Medication?” Sundance lifted his head and for the first time, realised that he needed to go. He wondered if there would be spiders… 

“Oh, nothing too strong. A calming tea, I think, with mild sedative properties. Something to take the edge off while he adjusts.” She turned her attention to Sundance. “How do you feel?” 

“Like I have the flu,” he replied. 

“Paradox said you’d feel like that. She says the first time is typically the worst, but then the body adjusts. Hmm, it’s not like you to stay in bed.” The fretful diamond dog rubbed her chin with her broad thumb. “Stay put. I’ll bring you breakfast. And tea. And something hydrating to drink. I’ll be right back.” 

And without another word, the diamond dog departed. 
> Into the lair of the mastermind
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boredom threatened to be Sundance’s undoing. Try as he might, he could not sleep so the time would pass, and he was too jittery to read. Tarantula was sound asleep with his forelegs wrapped tight around his stuffed Rainbow Dash. As it turned out, even the tiniest amount of mild sedative overpowered the tiny burro colt—but there was no cause to worry. The herbal brew was harmless, posed no danger, and had no long-term side effects. 

The flu-like symptoms persisted, which included a faint throbbing headache, achy joints, dry mouth, and the jitters—which Sundance hated more than just about anything. His symptoms weren’t that bad, but Corduroy wanted him in bed. Even worse, she threatened to sit on him if he resisted, and he had no doubt that she would. He might be the baron, but she was the nurse, and as such, outranked him when it came to medical issues. 

After he threatened her with an apple, she informed him that those only worked on doctors. 

Of course, Corduroy wasn’t here… which meant that he could escape. Just step outside for a bit maybe. Not much of an escape. Just a bit of fresh air. A little sunshine. He could just step outside for a few minutes, see how things were going, and then be back inside and in bed before his nurse even noticed. Yes, that was a good plan. An excellent plan. Certainly a better plan than waving an apple at his nurse. 

Corduroy needed a dragon pearl, something she mentioned in passing. Of course, not knowing, he’d asked what a dragon pearl was, and wished he hadn’t. Sometimes, when dragons settled in for a long sleep, they had a bit of sand, or a fragment of bone, or a stone, or even a skull lodged in between their cheek and gums. One of the many risks of being a dragon. While the dragon slept, a pearl formed around the foreign body so it wouldn’t become a source of irritation. 

Why Corduroy needed such a thing, she hadn’t mentioned. 

With much sneakiness, Sundance slipped out of bed, made not a sound, and reveled in a moment of foalish pleasure. He grinned; but it was not a wholesome grin, it was a daredevil’s grin, the sort of grin his mother threatened to slap right off his face if he didn’t stop that, right now, this instant. Come to think of it, his mother spent a lot of time threatening to punish him, and while there had been a few actual punishments, he realised that he was more afraid of what his mother might do than anything she actually did. 

This gave him pause and he stood there rubbing his chin, lost in thought. 

Pins and needles stabby-stabbed his hooves but he dared not dance in place to ease the prickly sensation. Doing so would make a commotion, a ruckus, and would surely wake up the slumbering Tarantula—who was awfully cute with his little Rainbow Dash stuffie. It felt good to be upright and he wanted to stretch his wings, but that would have to wait. In silence, he slunked for the door, for beyond was precious sunlight. 

He opened the door, slipped outside—and immediately bumped into Corduroy. 



 

His nose bumped right into her navel and what came out of him could only be described as a sort of avian squawk. When he looked up at her, he saw that she stared down at him, and her left paw came to rest on her hip. In her right paw, she pinched a paper bird, which flapped and made every effort to escape. When the door shut behind him, he almost yelped, and he wished that he wasn’t sandwiched between a building and his stern nurse. 

“This was flying in circles around the infirmary,” she said to him while she held out the paper bird. 

He licked his dry lips, but said nothing. 

“Come outside for a bit of fresh air?” she asked. 

“Yeah… I was going to go right back in, I swear. It was uh… well, I was uh… it was boring.” 

“That’s a problem,” Corduroy said in a neutral tone. With a turn of her head, she glanced at the paper bird pinched between her paw-thumb and paw-finger. “I think this is for you.” 

When she let go of the origami bird, it fluttered about, bumped into Sundance’s nose, and then began to unfold itself. He caught it with his wing, turned it over, saw that he had it backwards, turned it over again, and saw he had it upside down. After he got it rightside up, he looked up at Corduroy once more, and smiled at her—with the hopes that she might be appeased. 

“Those birds”—she pointed with her index paw-finger—“I’ve been doing some thinking. It would take days for those birds to fly here from Canterlot. Plus, high winds and such, and weather, and a variety of factors would all pose a serious threat to a paper construct. I have to wonder… how are those birds getting here?” 

“I… have no idea.” 

Corduroy brought up some excellent points, and now, Sundance found himself baffled. The paper birds were a mystery. They were rather slow, all things considered, and flew more like butterflies. Of course, Sundance didn’t understand enough about magic to even begin to make a guess—but he was mystified by Twilight Velvet’s wizardly prowess. 

“This is why I don’t like magic,” Corduroy said matter-of-factly. “It raises more questions than it answers.” 

If Paradox were here, she would certainly mention that Corduroy was an alchemist. As for Sundance, he knew better. He kept his mouth shut with the hopes that his nurse would overlook the fact that he was out of bed. The sheet of paper seemed to wiggle in his wing, as if urging him to hurry up and give it a read. 



Dear Lord Sundance:

Please, come to Canterlot at once. I have precious gifts to give to you. 

Time is of the essence. Thank you for your understanding.

Best regards, 

Lady Twilight Velvet



He looked up at Corduroy after he was finished and said, “I have to go.” 

“But you’re sick,” she retorted. 

“I’ve flown feeling worse. Besides, a good flight might clear my head. Could be just what I need to feel better.” 

“I don’t feel right about this—” 

“Duty calls, Corduroy.” With the words barely out of his mouth, he saw her demeanour change dramatically. 

“It does,” she said with a nod. “Been thinking about duty a lot lately, since I came here. Not just as a nurse, but as your advisor. As your friend. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. I am always on the clock, so to speak. Some might complain, but I find it rewarding. Satisfying.” With her brows furrowed, she added, “Be careful, Sundance.” 

“I will.” He said it as a promise, which was done without thought. 

“I’m going to pack you up some hydrating liquid. Stop along the way and have a drink. Dehydration worries me because it leads to other issues if left untreated. Your nerves can’t function well without adequate hydration. I had some salty vegetable broth made just for you that I was going to serve with your lunch. I’ll put it into a travel container.” 

“Thank you.” Then, when that didn’t feel like it was enough, he added, “Really, thank you. You are one of my best friends. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“You need to get going and I need to check on a burro. While you’re getting your sky truck ready, I’ll get your broth and a few snacks to eat along the way.” She snatched one of his ears, gave it a tug, and then allowed it to slowly slip between her paw-fingers. “Paradox and I will have the runway lit up if you come home late.” 

“Good deal. Thanks. I suppose I’d better shake a leg…” 



 

Twilight Velvet must have had her reasons for urging him to hurry, and as he flew along, Sundance tried to think about what they might be. Maybe the little ones were promised to be adopted today, and Twilight Velvet wanted to keep that promise. That seemed likely, though there could very well be other reasons for urgency. Keeping a promise was important to maintain trust. 

He flew low to the ground, ready to land if his thirst threatened to overcome him. The land here was strange, too. He hadn’t fully explored his lands; the plans to do so were always there in his mind, but putting those plans into action was a problem. West of the barony—but east of Canterlot—were lowland marshes, a boggy area where the runoff from the highlands pooled. This area, north of the Everfree, was similar, but also different. It also didn’t offer much in the way of dry land suitable for landing. 

Tall, stately trees could be seen, with curious, stilt-like roots that kept their trunks up out of the murky water. Large creatures—possibly cragodiles—could be seen lying in wait. A hot, fetid smell rose up to violate Sundance’s nostrils, but he wasn’t impressed by the feculent funk. As the sovereign ruler of Rotten Egglünd, he lived with far worse smells. He was now a connoisseur of fine stenches (or was that connoissewer) and was darn-near impervious to common garden-variety stinks. 

Birds chittered, some unknown critter roared, frogs croaked, and every sound that came from the marsh formed a sort of song. This was his land, a gift from his grandmother, and like her, he was determined to do something with it. Some day, he’d have an idea, maybe, or perhaps some grand inspiration. It wasn’t something he needed to worry about now. He had the foundations in order, he was free of debt because of his friends, and he was gaining population. 

Surely, the future would take care of itself… 



 

Canterlot was somehow hotter than the barony, even though it was at a much higher elevation. It was hot, dry, and almost unpleasant. Canterlot was a cool city, most of the time, so a hot day like this one really did a number on the residents of the city. They trotted at a slow pace if they trotted at all. Most plodded along, dragging their hooves, and much of Canterlot’s elite were sans clothes, which is to say fashionably naked. Many of the unicorns fanned themselves with festive folding paper fans, while pegasus ponies used their wings. 

Alas, the poor earth ponies had no means to fan themselves, and were forced to endure. 

It was no small mercy that it wasn’t hot and sticky. Sundance’s land had humidity, and not just any humidity either, but smelly humidity. The vapour ejected from sulfurous fumaroles hung heavy in the air and left the air soupy—a soup made from the putrefactive essence of rotten eggs. Not all that long ago, he sat in a tree and watched a fumarole for almost an hour. A boiling mudhole on the edge of a bubbling bog. After about thirty minutes of fascinated study, he concluded that the spewing fumarole looked very much like a convulsing anus. It took him another thirty minutes or maybe longer to peel his gaze away and find something else to do. 

When he suggested to Corduroy that he would name the area Butthole Bog, she gave him a well-deserved poke with her paw-finger. 

Canterlot was a magnificent city, but it lacked flatulent mud-spewing bog-anuses. 





“Sundance… you do not look well.” 

A shimmery, glittery force grabbed his chin, yanked his head down, and then Twilight Velvet pressed her hoof against his forehead. After a few seconds, she clucked her tongue, made an odd noise that was somehow as maternal as it was familiar, pulled her hoof away from his forehead, only to press it against his cheek, which continued for a prolonged series of moments, until she pulled away and let go of his chin. 

“Slight fever,” she remarked. 

“I suffered an unexpected magical discharge. Rather shocking, all things considered.” 

“If I would have known, I wouldn’t have called you out.” 

“Strange, you seemed to know what I was up to the last time we met.” 

Twilight Velvet smirked. “What you observed is the illusion that I am all-knowing. Which is obviously not the case. The Observers know your habits and routines. I can make myself seem quite impressive if I ruthlessly exploit a few basic facts. But the Observers are not always watching. In fact, most of the time, they are not. I’m told that your barony is a snooze-fest. The Observers are forced to draw straws to determine who has to go for observation duties.” 

“Oh, my peasants absolutely love working all day. That’s their thing.” He took a second to rub the tickle away from his chin, which lingered. “They don’t seem to be bothered by boredom, unlike some of us. Some of us are ready to die from it, so I sympathise.” 

“Well, I may have the means to make life interesting, Sundance. Today, you’re getting a twofer.” Twilight Velvet grinned, and doing so caused her face to light up with maternal mischief. “But first, some tea I think. You do not look well. Flu-like symptoms? Fatigue? Jitteriness?” 

He nodded. 

“Unicorns have a special tea just for that. I’ll fix you some. Come, follow me. We have much to go over and do. Also, for some reason, shortbread really helps the condition, and nopony knows why exactly. I think it is because it is so dense and starchy. Twilight would deplete herself often, and my husband and I kept emergency stashes of tea and shortbread hidden in various places.” 

To which Sundance replied, “Some tea sounds wonderful.” 



 

Sundance found himself in an utterly non-remarkable kitchen. Not a kitchenette, as one might find in an office, but an actual kitchen. The refrigerator was covered in drawings and paintings, a collage of clutter that was warm and inviting. This kitchen saw use, too. Though it was clean, there was clutter. Things happened here, and Sundance could only imagine that Twilight Velvet must spend time with her young charges, baking cookies, brownies, and other delectable treats. She struck him as being that sort of mare. 

The tea smelled bitter and somewhat medicinal. It needed a bit longer to steep, and while it did so, Twilight Velvet portioned out some shortbread on a plate covered with stuffed bears, rubber duckies, and alphabet blocks. In the middle of the table there were a pile of folders, papers, and casefiles. Over the sink, Sundance noticed a rack full of bottles, some of which were wet, as though they were recently washed. 

“Where are your assistants?” he asked. 

“Buttermilk and Copper are busy with a case. Right now, they are off on a recovery with Wormwood, one of my other assistants. If all goes well, they should be back this evening.” 

“And if things go poorly?” he dared ask. 

“I go out and deal with things myself,” was Twilight Velvet’s cold response. There was no bravado, no vanity, no boastfulness about her words. “Wormwood has only ever been bested once. He was assaulted with alchemical agents specifically designed to do great harm to his unique physiology. They were prepared for our arrival… but they were not prepared for Buttermilk Oddbody.” 

“Mrs. Oddbody… the little half-pint pegasus—” 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let her hear you say that,” Twilight Velvet warned. 

“Well, I uh, it’s just that… I never would have suspected… not that I am one to judge… I try not to judge…” Unable to continue with this subject, he changed it. “Mind if I ask what sort of recovery effort this is? Like, from a house?” 

“Smugglers. Foal exploitation. Trafficking.” Mrs. Velvet’s eyes became paper-thin slits. “I’m not worried though. This is quite a job, so I called in a few favours. Mister Teapot and his daughter, Megara, they will be assisting. Those two have a thing for mooks.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“We are fighting a war, Sundance.” Twilight Velvet’s face became a cold, emotionless mask devoid of expression. “I don’t mean the war with Grogar, either. It’s a war that the common pony cannot grasp. Every day, hundreds of boats and airships arrive upon our shores, and these craft are filled with refugees. Many of them are young, helpless creatures of all kinds. 

“They slip through the cracks, Sundance. Irresponsible agencies or outright corrupt agencies that should be helping them are instead trafficking them. Central Equestria is under tight control, but our coastal cities are corrupt. Things are slowly getting better, and while we work to fix things, many lives slip through the cracks. 

“I am trying to save those I can, though I must confess, my resources are strained to the limit right now. Which is why I am glad for your help. You will continue to help me, won’t you?” 

His response came without hesitation: “Of course. But please understand that my resources are also limited.” 

“We have more resources together than we do individually.” 

These words gave Sundance pause, and he took a moment to weigh them in his mind. There was truth to these words, at least a ring of truth, and with a little consideration, he understood said truth. He had land, space. There was food. Twilight Velvet had other ways and means, other resources, even if he didn’t fully understand what those might be. Yes, there was much truth in the idea that they could do more together than they could individually. 

He offered her a slow nod. 

“Trust is in short supply right now, for obvious reasons. The current extraction is from an agency that I believed that I could trust. For a time, they were indeed trustworthy. Something changed recently. Not sure what. I suppose the bribes became irresistible, or perhaps there was blackmail.” The intensity of her piercing gaze increased tenfold. “I need nearby allies that I can depend upon. Resources are scarce here in Central Equestria, where my power is most consolidated.” 

“How can I help?” asked Sundance. “I mean, you have to know I’m loyal. What am I going to do? Disappoint my grandmother? My mother? My actual grandmother, my mom’s mother? I am predisposed to goodness and loyalty, because let’s face it… the mares in my family would absolutely destroy me if I stepped out of line. So, how can I help?” 

“We’ll get to that. First, we need to get you feeling better. Priorities, Sundance.” 
> Bureaucratic discussion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though somewhat bitter and medicinal, the tea was still eminently drinkable. Sundance found it soothing, and halfway through his first cup, the jittery sensation subsided a bit. The fog that dulled his senses parted and the blessed sunshine warmed his body—metaphorically speaking, of course. He sat in a worn wooden chair, his eyes closed, with his steaming cuppa held with both wings to keep it steady. 

It was strange to associate something faintly bitter as comforting, yet tea was exactly that. Not only did it keep the hooliganism away, but in moments like this, there was just something about it, a certain special something that could not be put into words. It wasn’t just the comforting warmth, or the immediate relief it brought, but rather, it was something greater than the sum of its parts. A gestalt of goodness that soothed the body and soul. 

“If I may speak openly—” 

Sundance opened up his eyes just enough to see Twilight Velvet.

“—you’ve caused me some considerable distress, Sundance.” She tapped one hoof against the edge of the table with perfect metronome timing. “Corporatisation of your barony has caused me a lot of concern. I’ve been forced to face a great many of my own fears. Industrial orphanariums and workhouses are horrible, horrible places. After I took over this position”—there was a pause and a somewhat haughty sniff—“I took great satisfaction in dismantling these ‘houses of charity.’ They were… abominable. In doing so, I learned things… saw things… discovered things that I fear have forever stained my very soul.” 

He sipped his tea in silence. 

“Now, I find myself placing foals and little ones into a corporate sponsored orphanage, and I keep asking myself what am I doing… this… this hasn’t been easy for me, Sundance. While I trust the good that you do, I do wonder just what it is you’re doing turning your barony into a corporate entity. I associate only wrongdoing with—” Her words trailed off, her barrel rose, fell, rose again, and then sank while she slowly exhaled. 

She struggled whilst he watched, and while he wanted to reassure her, he had no words. He barely understood what he was doing; Rustic handled the business end of things while Sundance dealt with the barony end of things. They were like a phoenix reborn, and that was just about the whole of Sundance’s understanding. Twilight Velvet had invested in his barony, which made her current state of discomfort even more confusing to him. 

“Make no mistake… I do trust you. Perhaps you’ll find a new way of doing things. You have Twilight’s attention, you know. She’s placed you off-limits. Nopony is allowed to try and discourage you from your course of action. Twilight is interested in what you will do, and what good might come from it. She was always a bit of a risk-taker, Twilight, even if she denies it. My daughter likes to go out of her way to find unconventional, or even unorthodox solutions to problems. I think that might be why Princess Celestia chose her to rule. And you… you’ve definitely veered off of the beaten path.” 

Another slurp of tea trickled down Sundance’s gullet. 

“I asked Twilight why she trusted you the way she does, and she told me that it was your friendship with your retainer, Cucumber. She says that she trusts that.” 

At the mention of Cucumber’s name, Sundance shuddered. A dreadful pang of loss caused his heart to cramp, and a tiny flicker of grief kindled within him. What would Cucumber think of all the changes? Faithful Cucumber… loyal to the soil. Cucumber… who murdered the very lord that he was sworn to serve. Surely Cucumber would approve of all the changes, all the improvements, and everything so far accomplished. 

Sundance’s eyes stung horribly while he had himself another slurp of tea. 

“Equestria changes rapidly. Not that long ago, a noble title practically identified a socialite. Now, more and more, a noble title, rank, and peerage indicate a dedicated public servant. Ponies who work for the public good—only they get a lousy salary.” Twilight Velvet leaned over the table a bit, chuckled, and levitated a piece of shortbread to herself. “I don’t get a salary myself, and I have a whole flock of demanding bosses that I answer to. We have that in common, Sundance.” 

With his teacup held level, he nodded his acknowledgment. 



 

Twilight Velvet lifted up a blue folder, pulled it closer, opened it, and then set it down upon the table before her. Meanwhile, Sundance crunched on shortbread; he tried to be polite about it, but he very much wanted to pour the entirety of the plate down his gullet. Would he choke? He might. The shortbread was just a little dry. But the desire was strong. Just as Twilight Velvet had said, it did help. 

“Integration is a complex issue,” Twilight Velvet said while she placed one hoof down flat upon the open blue folder. “In the past, there’s been far too many failures to count. Some successes too, don’t get me wrong, but far too many failures. Diamond dogs bear the brunt of these failures. We take them in, our system processes them, they get placement, that typically doesn’t work out, they go back into the system, grow up, problems fester, and when released as adults they do not have positive outcomes.” 

Her eyes flashed with hard kindness. 

“I suppose not every diamond dog is like Corduroy,” Sundance said with a mouth mostly empty of shortbread. 

“My daughter, Twilight, along with Mrs. Oddbody and Mister Quick, proposed an expensive solution.” Twilight Velvet lifted her hoof, leaned back in her chair, and sighed. “Princess Cadance supported the idea, and so did I, but the Crown budget bureaucrats had fits over the idea of spending so much money on diamond dogs when there were so many ponies in need of help.” 

“Seems to me that those bureaucrats forgot that diamond dogs can be Equestrians too.” 

“Thank you!” Hoof extended, Twilight Velvet’s face broke into a wide grin. “It does my heart good to hear you say that.” She lowered her hoof, rested it upon the table, and then continued with what she’d started to say. “A little fundraising happened… outside of government expense control, and we hired behaviourists. We started to condition our charges, with mixed results. 

“One such example is Runt.” She tapped on the blue folder before her with her hoof. “His mother, what little time she had with him, taught him to be brutish. Violent. When he came into our care, Runt knew only violence. Just like so many of the little diamond dogs that have come into our care over the years.” 

“Might I ask what happened to his mother?” 

Gaze leveled upon Sundance, Twilight Velvet replied, “She was a slaver. Worked on the outskirts of the city of Las Pegasus. Foal snatcher, mostly. Catch them young and then beat the fear into them. She resisted capture and was killed.” 

“That’s awful,” said Sundance. 

“It is.” The unicorn mare’s tone was flat, devoid of feeling, but her eyes were sad. “Runt was raised to be just as brutish… a danger to our kind. Our team of behaviourists went to work on him, and there was extensive reconditioning. Oh, not the dreadful kind. We set standards. Princess Cadance sent envoys in her stead to watch over the process, and shepherd it along. 

“We feel that he is ready to be released into a controlled environment. He is gentle, caring, and good natured. But because of his formative years, he’s not terribly bright. I don’t want to say that he is stupid, but he is… developmentally challenged. He can read a bit, write a bit, but math will never be a strength for him. We feel that Corduroy will be a good role model for him, and your barony is an ideal environment for him to continue his development.” 

“And he won’t be a danger to the other little ones?” asked Sundance. 

“Goodness no,” was Twilight Velvet’s hurried response. “Fluttershy went to work on him quite some time ago. He smacked her a few times… even bit her. Somehow, she revived his sense of guilt. Now, he howls if he thinks he’s hurt somepony. Fluttershy left a lasting impression on him, as she tends to do. We feel confident that he is not a danger to others.”

“The issue,” Sundance said, “as I see it, is that there is a shortage of Fluttershies.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Twilight Velvet grinned, but there was an air of sadness about it. “She can only do so much. As you’ve no doubt figured out on your own, it is why Tarantula had to be placed. Fluttershy must move on to other projects.” 

It must be rough to be the Element of Kindness, Sundance thought to himself. 

“Runt is ready for placement. He’s clumsy, so expect some bumps and bruises. The little guy is strong, he’s a natural digger, so maybe cultivate his strengths. As much as I am loathe to bring this up, he loves to play fetch. If you throw a stick, he will chase it, and bring it back to you. He will do this for hours without tiring. This too, might very well be an asset. 

“I am aware of Corduroy’s quirks,” Sundance said to Twilight Velvet. “I find them endearing, and would never demean her for them. She gets excitable and chases after butterflies. Sometimes, she even barks. I think that she’s embarrassed about it. Not a word has been said, but I try to be supportive.” 

Then, when the craving could no longer be denied, Sundance crammed a wafer of shortbread into his mouth and chewed. He hoped he wasn’t being rude, but his body needed the somewhat-sweet snack. It was buttery, kind of crumbly, and there was something about how the dry wafer transformed once inside his mouth. 

Mid-chew, he wondered if he smelled… 

“Of course, we also have problematic environments,” Twilight Velvet said while Sundance chewed his shortbread. “Were Runt to be released in a big city, which is the typical outcome, a variety of factors might reduce him to mere survival”—she paused, uncomfortable, and her eyes fell to the folder before her—“what I am trying to say is, adults of any species make poor decisions when desperate. There is a great deal of bias held against diamond dogs, as I am sure you’ve learned. They don’t get the same chances to succeed as our kind does. Your barony has fairer odds. A more level playing field. Runt will have a chance to make something of himself… a chance he might not get in the city.” 

After he swallowed, he replied, “I also have Corduroy. She’s a fine example.” 

“She is,” Twilight Velvet was quick to say. “Corduroy comes from a community of fine examples, and we discussed sending some of our successes out that way. We probably will. But… eggs in one basket and all of that.” She sighed, and for a brief second, extreme weariness marred her fine features. Not mere fatigue, but crushing exhaustion. With an eyeblink, she recovered her mask, and was more or less normal again. 

“You’re seeding.” 

One fine eyebrow arched and both of Twilight Velvet’s ears pivoted forwards to face Sundance. Her brows furrowed, her eyes twinkled, and thin, tiny wrinkles appeared along the bridge of her nose while she spent a few moments in thought. After a few seconds, she then said, “You’ve spent a lot of time around farmers. It shows. But you’re not wrong. It was my daughter Twilight’s idea to spread our successes around. She says she borrowed the idea from the nocturnal pegasus breeding programs scattered about Equestria. I’m not sure if I agree with her yet, but time will tell. Myself, I think that if we kept them together, they’d be able to offer support to one another. We could exploit pack mentality. But I also see the wisdom in my daughter’s ideas.” 

Another square wafer of shortbread vanished into Sundance’s mouth. 

Across the table, Twilight Velvet now seemed lost in thought. Sundance took this opportunity to collect his own thoughts and organise them. While he wasn’t the smartest pony, he saw the wisdom in what Twilight was doing. Equestria was not a safe place. Cities were sometimes attacked—sometimes almost leveled. Smaller communities dealt with monsters. Sometimes, an owlbear showed up from out of nowhere with a hankering for delicious peasant. 

In a secure Equestria, one safe from all harm, the community where Corduroy came from might very well be enough. A diamond dog homeland of sorts, a slice of Equestria that they could call their own. Corduroy left it behind for her own reasons, but Sundance saw a bigger picture—he saw Twilight’s picture, though perhaps not at the same scale she did. If the diamond dogs were to survive and have a future in Equestria, they needed preservation, and beyond that, a place where they could thrive. 

While entertainment was a priority of his, security was now more so. 

A single owlbear could ruin all of Twilight Velvet’s investment into the future. 

“Twilight Sparkle seeks conservation of endangered species.” Sundance said his thoughts aloud. “In this instance, civilised diamond dogs. How few are too few? Equestria has who knows how many millions of ponies. But how many diamond dogs live here and call our nation home? How many of them are just like Corduroy?” 

“I don’t know,” Twilight Velvet replied, “and I am not sure that anypony does.” 

“Surely somepony must care enough to find out.” 

“Sundance, there are those that care. But we are a minority. Getting an even somewhat accurate count takes financing. Resources. That would be a major undertaking. Princess Celestia told me that we have a better idea of the number of ferals that exist within our borders, because they pose a threat—” 

“But we don’t know how many peaceful diamond dogs act as our allies?” 

Dismayed, Twilight Velvet shook her head from side to side. 

“So am I to understand that efforts are beginning to improve things?” 

She nodded, then replied, “Princess Celestia began these efforts decades ago. Not long after Equestria’s Civil War. She tried to include them as part of the reconstruction efforts, because so many diamond dogs battled against the Separatists. Her efforts were stymied by the bureaucracy though. Now that bureaucratic reform is in full swing, Twilight has picked up where Celestia was forced to leave off.” 

“So, it is a matter of bureaucrats establishing new policies.” 

“To some extent, that is correct, Sundance.” 

“And I am a natural born bureaucrat… or so I’ve been told many times over.” 

“Celestia says that you do have that way about you. Some pegasus ponies have legendary endurance and make heroic stands against impossible odds, and do battle with endless legions. You seem to take the same stance against paperwork. If I may say it, Celestia admires your bureaucratic fortitude. So does Raven. Sure, you’re no Commander Hurricane, but you have your own silent admirers.” 

“You’re not joking.” He blinked. “I can’t detect any teasing. You’re either very good at what you do, or you are actually serious.” 

“That’s because I’m being serious right now. Commander Hurricane had the strength to help found a nation, but not the wherewithal to run it. Everypony remembers his strength, his bravery, his command of the battlefield. What ponies gloss over is the absolute disaster that was his attempt to rule. Pansy’s quiet determination, soft words, and attention to detail laid out a legacy that still serves the Pegasus Pony Tribe to this very day. But nopony remembers the bureaucrat that organised Equestria and cemented the government in place.” 

This gave Sundance pause. 

“Back to the subject at hoof.” Twilight Velvet pulled the pink folder closer, opened it, leaned forwards, and focused her calm, collected stare upon Sundance. “Actually, if I may say one more thing on this subject… Equestria has need of more than heroes. Equestria needs bureaucrats. Civil servants like Buttermilk and Copperquick. Ponies like you. It isn’t glamorous, the pay is lousy, the hours are terrible, but it is a job that must be done.” 

Somewhat overwhelmed, Sundance agreed with a single word: “Indeed.” 

“Our second success for today is a little pup named Bonk. Like Runt, she was violent and brutish. A natural clubber. Our behaviourists reconditioned her to channel all that violent energy into music. Now she’s a natural drummer. Bonk’s a little sweetheart now that she’s been properly reconditioned. She loves performing, wants to be the center of attention, and craves praise more than anything. Bonk shows signs of intelligence, at least to some degree. She has a little trouble reading and writing, but she is young still. We feel that is natural. 

“What makes her exceptional is the fact that she’s started reading and writing music. While she has trouble with letters, she’s a quick study of music. We’ve tried to encourage that in her. For all we know, she might just be a musical prodigy. Time will tell. We’ll be sending you home with a crate of musical primers, picture books, and other things to assist in nurturing her gift.” 

“Alright.” 

“Also, expect visits from our team of behaviourists.” Twilight Velvet closed both folders, stacked them atop each other, tamped them against the table to perfectly align them, and then set them down. “Runt and Bonk are very close. Like, sister and brother close. Besties. Bonk is clearly the brains, while Runt is… well, Runt is Runt. Poor little guy will always be rather slow, I fear. Without somepony, or somedoggy, as the case may be… without someone to tell him what to do and how to do it, Runt is rather lost. His lumpy, misshapen skull is evidence of his mother’s abuse. Sundance, I am trusting you to provide him with a good, meaningful life. Even the simpleminded deserve that.” 

“I’m almost certain that Corduroy would leave lumps on my skull if I did Runt wrong. She’s a pacifist, or says she is, but I watched her go and maul a turkey-sized spider in the shitter. Totally changed how I saw her.” 

Twilight Velvet’s expression turned deadpan. Her ears splayed out a bit, rotated sideways, away from Sundance, and her head tilted off to one side in the typical ‘curious pony’ position. He saw the corner of her mouth twitch, but only once, and then her face returned to absolute stillness. No reaction could be read and Sundance could feel his anxiousness as it crept through his guts. 

“None of the little ones go to the potty alone,” Sundance said, because he felt the need to explain himself. “We have a strict policy where they are are accompanied by an adult. I’d like to think that we’re proactive, and focused on safety.” 

“Well,” Twilight Velvet said at last, “I should hope so.” 

“The wilderness is dangerous,” Sundance said, still hoping to explain himself. 

“Once, a long time ago,” Twilight Velvet began, “little Twilight went off to a Starswirl themed summer camp for young wizards-in-training. I wasn’t going to let her go, but my husband, Night Light, he promised her that she could, which of course left me without a leg to stand on. Twilight and wilderness are two words that should never be in the same sentence. 

“To make a long story short, Twilight went into an outhouse and had an encounter with a tiny, harmless snake… which pretty much scarred her for life. We had to charter an airship and go out to retrieve her, because she would no longer go potty in the wilderness. She wanted a safe, secure proper bathroom. When we arrived, she was practically ready to burst.” 

Sundance covered his mouth with his wing. “Oh my…”

“She got better, but still has a phobia of snakes.” 

“I think some of my peasants are afraid of spiders,” Sundance remarked. 

“Perfectly reasonable,” Twilight Velvet replied. “So, would you like to meet the pups? I had them flown into Canterlot. They’re in unfamiliar surroundings and are in an excited state. Try to keep that in mind when you meet them. It is my hope that they make a good impression. We taught Bonk how to curtsey. Say something nice when she does it, because we want to reinforce that sociable behaviour.” 

That was a lot to take in, but Sundance nodded, ready. 

“Feeling better?” asked Twilight Velvet. 

“Much better.” Sundance shifted in his seat. “I’d like to meet the pups. Is there anything else I should know?” 

“We’ve printed you out an instruction booklet. A sort of primer on conditioning behaviours. It will tell you everything you need to know. Come along, don’t worry about the mess. Some poor intern will clean it up. It’s getting late, and we need to get you on your way before it is truly dark. Bonk is scared of the dark… which is why you need Runt around. He keeps her calm. It’s all in the instruction manual.” 

“Oh… well… a little light reading will at least give me something to do...” 
> It's a heavy thing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With the weight of the world at rest upon his back, Sundance found his gait somewhat slowed. There were no words to describe what he felt, none of his previous experiences gave him the means to perceive or understand what he now experienced. While the need to preserve life had always lurked in the back of his thoughts, the consequences for failure now free-roamed in the forefront of his mind. The price of said failure could not be put into words. Mistakes could do incalculable harm. 

As heavy as the world felt upon his back, the invisible circlet upon his head was somehow heavier. It bowed his neck, humbled him, and the strain it caused was almost too much to bear. For certain, Princess Celestia’s crown had to be far, far worse. She had cursed him, his grandmother, for responsibility was a curse. It would be his undoing. One day, the invisible circlet would be too much to bear, and his neck would break.

Either that, or he would grow stronger; find strength still unknown to him. 

“Sundance, are you alright?” asked Twilight Velvet. 

“I’m fine,” he replied without thought. 

Her lips pressed into a tight, thin line and her ears folded back against her head. “Sure. If you say so. Still under the weather, I suppose. Anyhow, right through this door. I’m positive that they are eager to meet you.” 

“I’m not fine,” he blurted out. “I… I’m… I think I’m”—it was too late to consider his words now because they were already spilling out of his mouth—“yes, I’m”—his thoughts clarified a bit, yet remained so hard to say—“I’m facing my own prejudices. I’m now responsible for providing for and protecting the very lives I once held in contempt.” 

Twilight Velvet froze mid-action and went still. 

“It’s a heavy thing,” he whispered. 

“Oh, you poor dear, that is rough.” Twilight Velvet closed her eyes, shook her head from side to side, and when she opened her eyes once more, they seemed somehow sad in some vague, indescribable way. “Do you need a minute?” 

“What, so I can mope over it?” He shuffled about, rubbed his wings against his ribs to reassure himself, and then looked up at the ceiling, because he couldn’t bear to see Twilight Velvet’s sad eyes. “The idea that good creatures can just… cease to be. Not just diamond dogs… all of us. Good creatures. How do I protect them? How do I serve them in such a way that they prosper and gain numbers?” 

“Sundance… I do believe that your grandmother once asked herself the very same questions. Possibly on the very same patch of land. I don’t have an answer. Neither does Twilight. She wrestles with the very same questions. I myself, I concern myself with smaller things… smaller issues that I have a better chance of success when dealing with.” 

“I can’t save them with pen, ink, and paper,” he said whilst he stared up at the ceiling. 

“No, but that’s a good start. Gentle governance. Enact laws. Enforce standards. Ensure equality.” Twilight Velvet stood near the door, still unmoving.

“Law has failed us. Look at how we stagnated, buried beneath laws and ordinances that paralysed us and prevented us from acting. We made laws that prevented our own progress.” With a tilt of his head, Sundance steeled himself and looked Twilight Velvet in the eye. “Baltimare is a ruin. The city is a warzone. My mother is a police officer, and I… I’m pretty sure I lost faith in the law at an early age. My mother, she did her best, but she was by and large powerless against crime.” 

When Twilight Velvet said nothing, he continued, “The law compelled her to catch them. She would catch crooks, the system would process them, and then they would be released. All in the name of mercy and forgiveness. The law holds lofty ideals, the law is called moral, but in action, in practice, it is meaningless. You said it yourself. These diamond dogs would be kept in the system, only to be released as adults. Has anypony stopped to consider that the law is what makes the criminals that plague our great society?” 

“I have,” Twilight Velvet replied, “which is why I strive to change things. We can do better.” 

“But what if I just perpetuate the same broken system? I have all of my mother’s prejudices still lodged in my brain. How can I be certain that I’m doing right? Half the time, I have no idea what I am doing, and the other half, I know full-well that I am in over my head.” 

That terrible fatigue that Sundance glimpsed earlier returned to Twilight Velvet’s face. He watched as she shook her head, her ears rose, pivoted forwards, and then splayed out sideways. Her eyes were now more than sad; they were glazed with ancient worry, as if the middle-aged mare were somehow far, far older than her pretty face let on. 

He heard her say, “I don’t have an answer for that,” and then she opened up the door. 



 

The two pups were playing with wooden blocks as Sundance entered. Bonk was the larger of the two, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that she was the taller of the two. She was greyish, pale in colour, and thin, at least by diamond dog standards. The cute little pup was wearing a pine green dress that matched her eyes. Her ears were triangular, like Corduroy’s, and she had a long, well-defined muzzle. Blocks went scattering as she was on her paws in an instant. 

Runt was smaller, though almost as broad-shouldered as he was tall. Bulky. His muzzle was smooshed flat, as if he’d ran into a door. Long, droopy ears framed his face, and his head was indeed lumpy. Runt’s long arms almost reached the ground and Sundance wondered if the pup would grow into his body. He wore a dark blue tunic that complimented his dark charcoal hide. A long scar on the left side of his face pulled the corner of his eye downward. 

The first thing that Bonk did after she stood was curtsey. She grabbed a hank of her dress in her paw, which caused it to bunch and wrinkle, hoisted it upwards, and stretched the fabric considerably. It was clumsy, but earnest, full of feeling. Then, she let go, allowed her bunched up dress to slip back down, and her tail wagged with eager anticipation. 

Bonk stood at almost eye-level with Sundance; she was intimidatingly large for being so young, while Runt was more than a head shorter. They would only get bigger; Sundance only came up to Corduroy’s navel, his nurse towered over him. He worried a bit, and couldn’t help himself. These pups were big, and Tarantula was small. Not just Tarantula, but Amber and Lemongrass. Though, Tarantula was perhaps the tiniest of the trio. Maybe the behaviourists didn’t realise just how tiny and helpless a burro foal could be. Doubt dug its claws into him and he resisted the urge to squirm. 

“Hi.” 

It was Runt who spoke. His voice was thick, raspy, and full of gravel. The lone syllable came out slow. Paw-fingers flexed and then Runt tried to brush way something from his tunic, which only made things worse. Bonk appeared as though she might come undone and practically vibrated where she stood. 

“Hiyas,” the girl-pup said whilst she bounced in place. 

“Hello,” Sundance replied after Twilight Velvet nudged him. 

“We were spelling,” Bonk said with a downward pointing paw-finger. 

“Spelling,” Runt repeated. 

Sundance looked down and sure enough, he saw that the blocks formed the words, ‘Goood doog.’ He saw no point in correction, perhaps things were spelled that way to indicate a sort of howl. Or not. Pointing out mistakes seemed like a poor way to start a relationship. They made an effort, and that was important. He thought of his mother, who was far more critical. She would point out this mistake, and maybe not in a nice way. 

He was having a moment. 

With both pups in view, he saw glimpses of Corduroy. He saw the enthusiasm that his nurse withheld, and how much self control she had. She could be every bit as bouncy, excited, and wiggly as these two pups—it was a canine thing. The fact that she was so composed spoke a great deal of her dedication as well as her professional nature. Corduroy was brutishly strong, there was no doubt of that, but was known for her gentleness. Sundance knew that Corduroy represented the best possible future for these pups, all they needed was a chance to grow into that future. To reach their fullest possible potential. 

“You have a marvellous curtsey,” Sundance said to Bonk. 

At first, nothing happened, but then she squirmed. After she squirmed for a bit, she pressed both of her front paws into her face, squished and squooshed it as though it were dough, and a low sound that was almost a whimper could be heard. Her face was surprisingly stretchy, and when she pressed too hard upon her nose, she snorgled. Sundance was aware that there was some sort of struggle going on, but he hadn’t a clue what it was, or might be. 

“Would you like to come home with me?” he asked. “Both of you. We would really like to have you with us. There’s another of your kind there, Corduroy. She’s our nurse.” 

“Nurse,” Runt repeated. His paw-fingers twitched. “Home? No remember home.” 

“You don’t remember home?” Sundance gave the boy-pup his full undivided attention. 

“I no remember mom.” Runt suddenly grabbed Bonk, which caused her to yelp in surprise, and he tugged on her arm. “No remember face. She went beddie-bye. Go sleepy.” 

For the moment, Sundance ignored the lump in his throat. 

“I don’t remember much about my mom either. She’s gone.” Bonk held Runt’s paw and began to stroke it. “She was mean. Not-nice.” The girl-pup scowled, but it didn’t last long, and she focused her efforts on comforting Runt, who appeared quite distressed. 

“You both dressed up so nicely to meet me. I feel like I should have worn something.” 

“Sundance,” Twilight Velvet said from behind him, “we’ve done extensive studies and found that ponies are more accepting of diamond dogs who wear clothing. We’re unsure as to the why of it, that part is debated, but the results are solid.” 

“Corduroy wears clothes,” he said. “She’s very meticulous about staying clean and keeping her clothes nice. I wonder if she did that for acceptance.” 

“I like dresses.” Bonk held on to Runt with her left paw while she went to work on smoothing out her dress with her right. “Don’t like naked. I make Runt wear clothes. Even if he says no. He looks nicer.” 

“Oh, he does.” Sundance offered a solemn nod along with his reassuring words. 

They were babies, Sundance reminded himself. Really big babies. As big as they were, it would be easy to see them as threats—as dangers. But if one looked past the size difference, it was easy to see them for what they were. Sundance sat down on the floor, settled in, and gestured both of the pups closer. Bonk was the first to react, and she dragged Runt along with her. 

Ponies, creatures in general, expected their young to be smaller than them. Sundance understood the reasoning as to why this was. Raising a pup might be difficult, especially when that pup grew larger and taller. It might be more challenging to take an aggressive, disciplined stance. Hollyhock would certainly have her work cut out for her, yet he was confident in her ability as a caretaker. She might say no at first—he expected that, really—but she would come around. 

“We have to fly home,” Sundance said. “Are you fine with flying?” 

“Yeah.” Runt’s saggy ears made a dedicated effort to rise. 

“Do you want to come with me?” asked Sundance. 

Bonk’s eyes went to Twilight Velvet, who was still behind Sundance. The corners of her eyes twitched and the little girl-pup seemed to be deep in thought. Sundance wondered what she might be thinking, if she was fearful, or doubtful, or had reservations. Then he saw the sadness that crept into her features, and what incredible, sorrowful sadness it was. It was the sort of downhearted despondency found only in canines. 

“Will I see Mister Goober again?” she asked. 

“He’ll come to visit,” was Twilight Velvet’s reply. “Do remember, he wants to help others just like you. Do you remember what he said? What he asked of you? To do as he said?” 

Crestfallen, Bonk nodded. “He said to be good. Good dog.” 

“Good dog,” Runt repeated. 

“When Mister Goober comes out to visit, do you know what would make him happy?” asked Twilight Velvet. 

Bonk’s head tilted. “What?” 

Head also tilted, Runt repeated, “What?” 

“Mister Goober wants to see you fit in. He wants to see you happy, and settled in with your new family. Mister Goober has high hopes that you’ll adjust, and he wants you to live the life that you deserve. Because you’re special. Both of you.” 

“We go to stay?” asked Bonk. 

“I plan to keep you forever,” replied Sundance. 

“That’s a long time,” Bonk said matter-of-factly. 

“Long time.” Runt nodded. “Long time. How long?” 

“Long enough,” Bonk said to her companion. “We grow old there.” 

Runt seemed confused by this. “Old? Not beddie-bye?” 

Bonk pulled Runt closer, but said nothing. She entwined his forearm with her own, leaned against him, and then just stood there in silence, with nothing to say. Sundance could tell that she knew, that she understood in some manner, some fashion, but probably lacked the words. What he also noticed was her kindness, her gentleness, and how she tried to comfort her companion. 

How many diamond dogs never had a chance to grow old? 

The body looked different, but the mind was similar. All of the same thoughts, fears, wants, desires, and needs. Surely they shared more similarities than differences, though Sundance couldn’t say for sure. It was a profound moment for him, one that could never be put into words, and he was glad for the opportunity to do a bit of soul searching. 

“We have meadows filled with butterflies and bees. There are birds of all kinds, but mostly owls. Greater Equestrian Screaming Owls. You’ll love them. There’s a huge orchard with all kinds of trees and places to explore. We live in a castle… sort of. Well, kind of. Nature sort of gave us a castle, and we added a gate. There’s wilderness there, where you can run and play.” 

“Is there a dump?” Bonk asked. 

“A dump?” Sundance tried to make sense of the question. “We, uh, try to deal with our trash. We don’t make much of it.” 

“I was found in the dump,” Bonk said. “Maybe we find other dogs in dump.” 

“Oh, uh… well, um, we don’t have a dump. Oh, and fair warning, if you play in the mud, I will not save you from Corduroy. Look, I like you kids. I think we’ll be friends. Great friends. But Corduroy has a thing for scrubbing. She’s a nurse, and she likes things clean. And you should know upfront… don’t run. Running only makes it worse. Corduroy can outrun a pony. Listen and understand. Corduroy is out there. She can’t be bargained with. She can’t be reasoned with. She doesn’t feel pity, remorse, or fear. And she will absolutely not stop, ever, until you are scrubbed.” 

Runt shied away while Bonk whimpered. 

“I mean, she’s nice and all, but she, uh, she has this thing about scrubbing. Like you have for music, Bonk. Scrubbing is Corduroy’s music.” 

“Uh-oh… stay away from mud, Runt.” 

“But mud like Runt.” 

“Don’t be a dum-dum.” Bonk gave her companion a hard tug. “You get scrubbed bald.” 

“No,” Runt whined. 

“We should get going,” Sundance said to the pair. “There’s a long way to go to get home. Don’t want it getting dark.” 

“I’m scared of the dark.” Bonk pulled Runt into an embrace that almost crushed him. “Black Hound live in dark. Black Hound is dark. Not want to see Black Hound.” 

“So long as you are good, you have nothing to fear from the Black Hound.” Twilight Velvet’s voice was calm, reassuring, but Sundance detected something off about it. “Sundance will protect you. Do everything he says. Obey him. Be good. If you follow his good example, you will be safe from the Black Hound.” 

“You not know.” Bonk shook her head from side to side. “None are safe. None. Must keep darkness away. Keep lights on.” 

“Is there something I should know?” asked Sundance. 

“Talk to Corduroy,” Twilight Velvet suggested. 

Sundance bristled. “If something threatens my pups, I feel like I should know about it.” 

“It’s not a concern, Sundance. Really.” Twilight Velvet came around and stepped into view. “The Black Hound… she’s a bit like Luna. Scares bad dogs back into the light. She’s nothing to be afraid of… unless of course you are actually unrepentantly evil. But poor little Bonk doesn’t need to hear this right now. So go home. Talk to Corduroy. Prepare to hear a ghost story… and believe every word of it.” 

Though annoyed, Sundance didn’t press the issue. Instead, he turned to both pups and said to them, “I’ll get you home. It might be a little dark when we get there, so be brave. I’ll see to it that you’ll have some night lights. Paradox can cast these floating light orbs. We’ll figure something out. Try not to worry.” 

Bonk reached out suddenly, and Sundance felt her powerful paw-fingers encircle his foreleg. She was strong, but her iron grip was gentle. It was not a stretch to imagine that she could break his leg without effort. Her paw trembled, but her grip was firm. She leaned in close, almost snoot to snoot, and her dark green eyes were piercing. 

“You promise?” 

Sundance understood the importance of promises, especially ones like these. “I promise you… we’ll sort this out together. You won’t have to face the dark alone. It does get dark in the barony. No street lights. I’ll find a way to keep the lights on, I promise.” The entire time, he never broke eye-contact. 

She let go, started to pull away, but then reconsidered. Her paw patted Sundance on the side of his neck. Bonk’s paw-pads were a bit rough, grippy, and made him think of Corduroy. Something had changed between the two of them, he was certain of it, though he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might be. He’d made a promise. She expected him to keep his word. He expected himself to keep his word. Something told him that this would have far-reaching consequences. 

“He say without fear, Runt. Not lie.” Bonk straightened out her companion, smoothed out his tunic with a few rough swipes, then turned to Twilight Velvet and said, “This goodbye.” 

“Yes, this is goodbye,” Twilight Velvet replied. “A temporary goodbye. I’ll be out to visit.” 

Runt pulled away from Bonk and his stubby legs carried him over to Twilight Velvet. He hurried a bit too much though, wobbled a bit, failed to recover his balance, and pitched over. Down he went, face-first, and he collapsed into a heap upon the floor. Though he’d taken a tumble, his tail wagged, a sign that he was fine. Twilight Velvet went to him, and offered him no assistance as he wiggled about so that he might stand. 

That was the real trick… allowing them to stand—and fall—on their own. 

Unharmed, unhurt, Runt wobbled right into Twilight Velvet, almost bowled her over, and wrapped his immense arms around her neck. For a moment, Sundance was quite alarmed about what he saw; so much so that his heart raced in response. But he ignored his reaction and tried to see the moment for what it really was. She was in no danger. Runt’s affection was clumsy, and perhaps a bit rough, but Twilight Velvet was no frail, fragile flower of a pony. 

“You’re such a sweet boy, Runt.” 

Bonk wrung her paws together, hesitating, and then sprang into action. She crossed the distance without tripping, but failed to slow down enough to soften the impact. Twilight Velvet proved that she was, in fact, a sturdy mare. Though her hind legs buckled a bit, she did not topple over when Bonk slam-bam-boom embraced her. Sundance watched, thoughtful about problematic affection, and prepared himself to deal with it. There would be bumps and bruises back home. Things might not be perfect. He would have to mind his expectations. 

“Oof, you’re only going to get bigger, Bonk. Remember, ponies don’t have bones made of stone. Well, most of us. Keep an eye on Runt. Stick together. Always.” 

When Bonk began sobbing, Sundance turned away. He listened, but hated to hear it. Then, Runt too, was sobbing. Sundance realised that Twilight Velvet was their friend. As busy as she was, as much as she had to do, for all of her responsibilities, she’d somehow found enough time to make friends with her clients. 

Squinting, Sundance wiped a tear from his eye before it had a chance to fall. 
> Practical arrangements
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pups sniffled, but were brave. They stood and watched as the sky truck was loaded, and Twilight Velvet praised them for staying out of the way. A small trunk with rugged, well-made clothing for the two of them. Containers of meat-treats. More books and some instruction manuals. Two crates of ‘institutional nutritional pudding’, whatever that might be—though the name lacked any sort of appetising appeal. One crate was listed as ‘brown’, while the other was ‘yellow’. Sundance could only guess that brown was a flavour, though he had no idea what flavour brown might be. Mysterious brown institutional nutritional pudding whose flavour wasn’t specifically listed as chocolate concerned him. 

It concerned him greatly, but what worried him more was that this stuff even existed. 

Why… 

If this was the stuff they fed orphans, it made him wonder what they fed prisoners. 

An intern came out of the back door carrying a small yellow crate made out of plastic. It wasn’t large, but seemed valuable somehow. Sundance noticed the pink butterflies stenciled on the crate and thought of Fluttershy. Then he realised that is exactly what the container was meant to represent. The pale yellow, the pastel pink butterflies, this was a crate of kindness. 

“What’s that?” asked Sundance. 

“Wartime relief crate,” an intern with a clipboard and a checklist replied. “Filled with antibiotics, vaccines, fever-relievers, medicines, and body spackle.” The young mare adjusted her glasses, checked something off on her clipboard, and smiled at Sundance. “You must be doing something right if Fluttershy has deemed you worthy. She pays for these, you know. Ultimately, she decides who gets them. Word has it that her friend, Applejack, helps to fund this project.” 

“Huh.” This was unexpected and Sundance considered a trip to Ponyville to offer Fluttershy his thanks. He watched as the crate was lowered into the bed of the sky truck and then secured with a hooked rubber strap. 

“You know, you’re kinda cute—” 

“Oh come on, Miss Drizzle. None of that.” 

“Can’t fault me for trying, Miss Velvet. It’s open season on available Lords.” 

Sundance watched as the two mares eyeballed one another and it was only then that he noticed that he seemed to be the focus of attention for several of the interns. This was interesting; Sundance was so used to ogling others that it never occurred to him that he might be the target of ogling himself. Miss Drizzle turned away from Twilight Velvet, winked at him, and he felt a ring of uncomfortable heat encircle his neck. This traveled upwards, until his face was in need of a good breeze. 

“You’ll have to forgive Miss Drizzle,” Twilight Velvet said to Sundance. “Her intentions are good. She’s ambitious. Wants to change the world. She figures that the best way to do that is to catch somepony with the ways and means to put her ideas into action. But she can flirt on her own time, off the clock.” 

“Just because one might be on a diet doesn’t mean that one can’t check out the available deserts,” Miss Drizzle said to her boss. “There is no harm in looking.” 

“Tell that to my hips,” Twilight Velvet remarked. “If I even look at a slice of chocolate cake, I pack on phantom pounds.” 

“Oh, that’s dreadful,” another intern said. 

“So, is there a lady in your life, Milord?” 

“Steady Drizzle! Really… what am I going to do with you?” 

“I, uh, well, uh…” Sundance scratched at the back of his head with his wing. “No.” 

“Would you like for there to be one?” the bold intern asked whilst she ignored the ever-increasing ire of her boss. “I am open to practical arrangements. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you heirs. I have an itemised list of demands, and when agreed upon as a contract, I am willing to exchange my consent.” 

“Miss Drizzle, that isn’t how you flirt! You kids these days, with your forward earnestness. Is romance dead?” Twilight Velvet rolled her eyes so hard that Sundance feared she might strain something. “Ugh, that’s just cringe-inducing to hear.” 

“Uh, how do you feel about spiders?” asked Sundance. 

“Spiders?” Miss Drizzle’s pen and clipboard quivered. 

“Yeah… I need a Milady that can deal with turkey-sized spiders in the—” 

“Lord Sundance!” 

“—uh, the uh, the outhouse. Just the other day we found a turkey-sized spider in the outhouse. Legs as long as a pony is tall. What I need from a potential lady is somepony who can keep the sh—” 

“Lord Sundance, please!” 

“—shared outhouses safe from giant spiders.” 

“Admirable recovery, but still. Now I worry about what sort of language your wards might learn.” Twilight Velvet’s expression soured as both pups started to giggle. 

“Milord, I fear my interests are a bit more… refined and urbane.” Miss Drizzle bowed her head. “Forgive me, but I’ll look elsewhere to satisfy my arrangement.” 

“Should we be sending our precious little ones to live with this guy?” an intern asked. 

“I keep asking myself the same thing,” Twilight Velvet deadpanned. 

“I’ll have you know, we have the finest outhouses.” Sundance drew himself up to his full unimpressive height and his chest scruffle puffed out. “Princess Celestia herself has pinched a loaf within those solitary confines.” 

Miss Drizzle’s pen and clipboard fell to the tarmac with a clatter and the flirtatious mare scrambled to recover. Meanwhile, Twilight Velvet shook her head from side to side as several interns reacted in a variety of ways, which ranged from amused to horrified. Runt and Bonk held their paws over their mouths as they giggled, and Sundance rather enjoyed the commotion that he’d caused. It wasn’t hooliganism when he did it. 

Sundance recalled all the times that Corduroy called him Baron Bedpan Mouth. 

“No more slacking, kids. I want this cart ready to go no more than five minutes from now. Let’s show some hustle! We don’t want poor Bonk to face the dark! Hurry! Move it, move it, move it!” 



 

A tailwind both helped and hindered Sundance on his way home. There was a little turbulence; well, perhaps more than a little. Poor Runt hung his head over the rear edge and spewed. Not much could be done about it, they had to get home, but in spite of this the little guy seemed to have a good time. When he wasn’t blowing chunks, he was cheering, or barking. 

The transition from the lowlands to the foothills was a sight to behold. Flying low so that he might see more of the land below him, Sundance took it all in. The lowland marshes transitioned into sloped plains studded with massive boulders. Old settlements could be seen from the air; the ruins of old houses, buildings, and other civilised structures. He spotted the leaning, towering body of an old windmill, whose blades were long since gone. The stone base was still sturdy from the looks of things, but the wooden body was rotten and weather-worn. 

No sign of a road could be seen, but Sundance was certain that these settlements once connected. There was a flooded quarry, which held a particular interest to him. Old mines yawned below him, gaping holes that went straight down into the stony earth. The foothills turned from marshy green to plains brown, and there were copses of trees that stood guard over old, decaying ruins. All he saw was once populated; a prosperous community that lived in the shadow of Canterlot. He wished that he’d done this sooner, and he reminded himself that he still had a lot of land left to explore. 

As a pegasus, it was easy to cross the vast, empty spaces. 



 

It was not yet dark as the barony grew larger in his sight. In fact, sunset was still quite some time away. There was maybe an hour of good light left before twilight purplefied everything and cast long shadows. He began to veer off to his right, so he could circle around and align himself with the runway. Down below, ponies already sprang into action, and Sundance spotted Potato among them. No doubt, she was the one who spotted him. 

Primaries splayed out, he steered himself around after his long circle, and now faced a headwind as he began his approach. He hauled quite a load, so he needed a little extra wind beneath his wings for lift. This would be an easy landing though, he figured. He didn’t have to fight the wind at all; if anything the wind was helpful for once. Behind him, he heard exciting chuffing from the pups. He untucked his legs as the ground grew near and flexed his muscles in preparation for landing. 

Touching down was almost too easy… 



 

Sundance undid the straps that bound him, turned about, and saw Corduroy looking down at the two small pups looking up at her. He almost said something, but held his tongue when he saw how solemn and serious the moment seemed to be. The expression on Corduroy’s face was utterly unreadable, so her reaction was unknown. Sundance just couldn’t read canine expressions well enough to know how she felt. 

“Are you mama?” asked Runt. 

“No, I’m your nurse.” Corduroy leaned over to have a better look. “You have a dirty face.” 

“He’s Runt, and I’m Bonk.” 

“Nurse Corduroy. I’m not your mother.” 

Paradox sidled up to Sundance, cast him a sidelong glance, but said nothing. 

“Why?” asked Runt. 

“Why?” Corduroy took a step backwards. “Because I want to be a nurse, that’s why. I could’ve settled down and had puppies right away. But I didn’t. I had other plans. So don’t get any ideas. Don’t try to look sad or give me puppy dog eyes. Those won’t work on me. Now, what are we going to do about that dirty face of yours, puppo?” 

Moving faster than she had any right to, Corduroy reached down, snatched Runt by the scruff of his neck, and hoisted him up to eye level with one paw. He yelped, and Sundance was fearful that Corduroy had hurt him somehow. But then he figured that Runt was just startled, not hurt. It was scary just how fast and strong Corduroy was—just how much physical superiourity she possessed. Runt hung by his scruff, swung to and fro, and the little fellow was bold enough to look the intimidating nurse right in the eye. 

“That’s a lot of evidence of head trauma,” Corduroy said rather bluntly while she examined the pup she held at arm’s length. “There’s vomit on your tunic. We’ll need to launder that. Also, I think a little tooth brushing is in order.” 

“Help,” Runt said to Bonk. 

“Nope, sorry, dog wash dog world,” she replied. 

“While you go and sort out the pups, I’m going to go have a chat with Hollyhock,” Sundance announced. “Corduroy, if you don’t mind, take Bonk with you. Get her presentable. We want to leave a good impression on Holly.” 

“Oh, I have to see this.” Paradox shuffled in place for a moment, lifted one hoof, waved at Bonk, and then smiled. “It’s not every day that a new mother discovers that she’s expecting puppies.” 

Sundance snorted, tried to hold everything in, and failed. He chortled at first, snorted a few times, chuckled, and then laughed when his mirth could no longer be contained. Paradox laughed too; not her usual nervous titter, but the comfortable, hearty laughter that comes with familiarity. As for Corduroy, she hauled Bonk up by the scruff of her neck, and then held both puppies out at arm’s length. 

“I suppose this was inevitable,” Corduroy remarked. 

“Corduroy?” Sundance approached his nurse, cautious. 

“Part of the reason why I left home,” Corduroy said to Sundance, “was to get away from other diamond dogs. I wanted to prove myself. Establish myself. Show the world what I could be. I didn’t want to start a family. Didn’t want to be held back from my plans. That’s why I had to leave. Why I had to get away. Too many expectations.” 

Uncertain and somewhat confused, Sundance asked, “Did I… did I do something wrong?” 

“No.” Corduroy’s ears sank and her jowls drooped. “No, you did right by the world. I just need to grow up and accept the fact that I can’t run away from my problems.” Then, with both pups held in her outstretched arms, she strode off with her tail almost dragging in the grass behind her. 

“I thought this would be a happier time,” Sundance said to Paradox. 

“We all come out here broken,” Paradox replied. “It’s up to you to put us back together.” 

Unsure of what to do, Sundance hesitated. Paradox’ words rang in his ears like bells. He barely understood himself; how could he possibly put others back together? He glanced at the sky truck, then at Paradox, and then cast his gaze down upon the grass below him. Corduroy was now stuck facing—whatever it was that she faced, and it was his fault. Inadvertently, perhaps, but he was the cause. 

“Actually, before I go and talk to Holly… Paradox, mind helping me unpack the truck?” 
> Spider season
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning was humid, overcast, and the air held the scent that promised thunderstorms. They had more water than they knew what to do with due to the waterfall, and Sundance worried about what the rains might do. Floodgate’s drainage system was top-notch, but Sundance still worried even though there was probably no cause to do so. He surveyed his surroundings with a cool expression, though his brows were furrowed with tiny creases of worry. 

There was much to do this morning. He had to stop by the infirmary, check in on Corduroy as well as the pups, and then introduce said pups to their new mother. Hollyhock had gone to bed early, and so the pups were left with Corduroy for their first night. She said she didn’t mind, but Sundance wasn’t so sure. He didn’t think that Corduroy had lied to him, but he did suspect that she was uncomfortable with the idea that the pups might grow attached to her. 

“Milord, a moment.” 

It was Earwax, who seemed to be doing quite well on three legs. 

“What’s up, Earwax?” 

“Double Helping, he’ll be going into yer gatehouse. That table he’s working on, the big one, it’s almost done. He says it is best assembled inside, otherwise it’ll be too big to carry.” 

“That’s fine, Earwax.” 

“Thought I’d say something. Seems only proper to announce when we go into yer Lordship’s gatehouse. You’ve been good to us, so it only seems right to stay on the level with you, Yergrace.” 

“Thank you, Earwax. How are you doing this fine morning?”

“Crabby, Milord.” 

“Sorry to hear that, Earwax. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I suppose. Just woke up in one of those moods. Everything is annoying today. Can’t say why. Might be ‘cause a storm is coming.” 

As if in response, distant thunder rumbled far to the south, and Sundance’s ears pricked in that direction. He turned, and so did Earwax, and both listened to the far-off grumbled threats of the weather. Sundance, who considered himself to be somewhat wise about these sorts of things, figured that the storm probably drifted up from the Everfree, which was a fair distance away. A few hours by air, as the pegasus flew. They had some time before it hit, but when it did, it was likely to be a drencher. 

“I has me a bad feeling, Milord...” 





Inside of the infirmary, three canine faces greeted Sundance. Corduroy seemed to be filled with good cheer, and it showed. But Sundance barely spared her a glance. The pups… the pups were immaculate. In Twilight Velvet’s care, they were clean and presentable. In Corduroy’s care, they glistened. How much brushing had happened to bring out the natural gloss in their coats? The both of them appeared slick, almost wet even. Not a hair was out of place. Just inside the doorway, Sundance stood in awe. 

“I think I like having pups around,” Corduroy said to Sundance before he had a chance to say anything. “There’s a lot of fun to be had with them, and then, when I am done, I can send them off with their mother. All of the fun, none of the work.” 

Sundance went squinty whilst he considered how much work went into brushing them. 

Perhaps that was fun… for Corduroy at least. 

The nurse held her paw out and gestured in the pup’s direction as she said, “I wanted them to make a good impression when they met Holly. So tell me, Sundance… is this the new normal?” 

“I… I… uh, I don’t follow,” he stammered in response as he tried to make sense of not just what was said, but the whole of the situation. 

“You bring home strays, you leave them with me for a night of observation, and then they meet Holly in the morning.” 

“Um…” Sundance concluded that this is what had happened so far. Last night, Hollyhock had gone to bed early, so he couldn’t talk with her. The pups ended up with Corduroy for the night, just as Tarantula had. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Runt and Bonk, and it occurred to him that Corduroy had pressed upon the two pups her methods, her means of acceptance. 

A good dog shouldn’t be dirty, he’d once heard her say. 

“I don’t know how it ended up here,” Corduroy said as she gestured, this time at the window. “But I found the Fluttershy I carved out of soapstone in that crate that bears her likeness. I left it at home, with my mother, Buttons. Somehow, it has found its way to me.” 

Sure enough, there was a tiny soapstone pony on the window sill, and it bore a remarkable likeness to Fluttershy. Sundance could even see three tiny butterflies. Just like Fluttershy, its face was obscured by a curtain of wavy mane. It was a fantastic carving, and showcased just how much care and detail Corduroy put into her work. Quite taken with it, he moved closer to have a better look, and noticed the recognisable kind—if perhaps a bit nervous—smile. 

“When I was a pup, for a time, I wanted to grow up to be Fluttershy,” Corduroy said in a voice husky from emotion. “I thought that, even if I couldn’t be accepted, I could still at least be kind, and not make the world worse. When you don’t have acceptance, it is easy to be angry. You can justify lashing out in anger. Well, I didn’t want to be angry. So, I chose to be like her.” She pointed with her extended paw-finger. “There’s no point in making the world worse just because you’re angry.” 

“You taught the pups that, didn’t you?” asked Sundance. 

“I did,” Corduroy was quick to say in return. “It became something of a lesson last night.” 

What a lesson it was. Sundance looked over at the pups once more, who seemed content to be quiet. They sat on the bed together, side by side, and didn’t seem at all distressed. Runt seemed more than calm, he might have been a little sleepy still, while Bonk was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the most literal sense. 

He was about to ask them if they liked it here, but the door opened behind him. As he stepped aside, he also turned about, and was immediately nervous when he saw Hollyhock. All of her little ones were gathered around her legs; Amber Dawn, Lemongrass, a devious-thievius owlcoon—and one little burro who seemed quite alright hiding beneath Hollyhock. There could be no doubting it, Tarantula was one of hers now. 

“Two more,” Sundance said to Hollyhock before she had a chance to say anything. 

She balked and stood protectively over the foals like a mother hen over her brood. “I don’t know a thing about raising pups. No, I—” 

“You didn’t know a thing about burros, either.” 

“That’s different,” Hollyhock replied while she herded her young closer together with her legs. “He’s tiny, and helpless, and needed help.” 

“These two are pretty tiny—” 

“Corduroy, don’t make jokes!” Hollyhock snapped. 

“But they are tiny, by diamond dog standards. And they too, are helpless, and in need of help.” Corduroy brought her stern gaze to bear upon Hollyhock, who curled one foreleg around the shawl that hung from her neck. 

“I have to keep my little ones safe.” Hollyhock was almost whining. “Those two are big and dangerous. Too big. Why, they have to be as tall as I am.” 

“They’re little more than toddlers, by our standards,” Corduroy said to Hollyhock. 

Sundance wasn’t sure if this was totally true, but he held his tongue on the issue. When he did speak, he tried another angle of approach—all he had to do was stick the landing somehow. “Holly… Holly… these are two fine pups. Good ones. Young and impressionable. They’re bound to be loyal to whomever raises them. Just look at how loyal Corduroy happens to be.” 

He waited a moment to allow his words to sink in before he continued, “See those paws? Those little stubby paw-fingers? You know how helpful that owlcoon is with his little hands. Just imagine how useful these two will be. They’ll be eager to help you, because they’ll be loyal to you. And all you have to do is love them.” 

Hollyhock’s dubious, fearful expression became one of shrewd cunning. Sundance saw the change as it happened, the transition from fear to—whatever it was that she happened to be feeling at the moment that caused the expression of shrewd cunning. Obviously, she felt something, and her sense of reason still functioned even in her half-awake, early-morning state of mind. This was a mare who weighed her options to see what she might get out of the situation.

He wasn’t too worried about Hollyhock exploiting them. Oh, she might make them work a bit, but he didn’t see that as a bad thing. He wanted the pups to appear helpful, for the sake of acceptance, and surely Corduroy would agree with his reasoning. Once Hollyhock warmed up to them, she would fret over them and baby them—just as she did anything else in her care. 

The owlcoon was proof of that, as was Tarantula. 

“Runt has had some head injuries.” Corduroy’s voice was low, level, and clinical. “He’ll need some special care. He was abused by his mother—” 

“Why? Why would that happen?” Hollyhock’s words practically exploded. “Who would do such a thing? Why is the world like this?” 

Sundance glanced over at Corduroy and saw a cunning equal to Hollyhock’s. His nurse knew what she was doing, for certain. Bonk and Runt were quiet, well-behaved, and watchful. Hollyhock’s maternal urges were now in play, and she struggled with her obvious need to mother-smother. She was breaking, it was only a matter of time. 

“Bonk is his helper. His helpmate. If she can be trusted to help him, as young as she is, just think about how she might also help you.” Corduroy folded her long forearms over her narrow girth. 

“They’re so big though—” 

“Big enough to keep your little ones safe if trouble happens.” Corduroy’s voice grew even more clinical, and somewhat colder. “Big enough to pick up and carry them to safety.” 

“Huh… there is that.” Hollyhock uncurled her foreleg from around her shawl and then began to rub her chin while the pegasus filly within said shawl gurgled and cooed. “Going to get cramped in the dome with those two.” 

“Move into the bunkhouse, Holly. It’s yours. As our designated orphan wrangler, you get to stay there. You get to be in charge. Select your staff wisely.” Sundance saw his words land like hurled stones, and the last bit of Hollyhock’s resistance broke. 

“Earwax is wonderful with the little ones.” Hollyhock’s hard eyes softened as she studied the two pups. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without her. She has that knack, you know.” The cautious mare approached the bed. “I didn’t mean to upset you, if I did. It’s just that, I’m very protective of my little ones, and you’re… you’re big. But I suppose that you can be my big little ones, if you’d like. Big babies are still babies, I reckon.” 

Bonk disentangled herself from Runt, slid down off of the bed, and then stood there for Hollyhock’s inspection. The girl-pup was taller than Hollyhock, and she stood there smoothing out her dress so that she might look her best. Hollyhock looked up as she drew closer, and Bonk looked down. Sundance watched, waited, and allowed Hollyhock’s maternal nature to kick in. 

“Are you gentle?” asked Hollyhock. 

“I try,” replied Bonk. “Try very hard.” 

“Trying is all we can do,” the cautious mother said to the pup. “Sometimes, when Amber plays with her little brother, she can get a little rough. She’s an earth pony. It takes a while for us earth ponies to learn how to control our strength. Mistakes happen, but I can be understanding.” 

Bonk moved a little closer, but did so cautiously and with great care. 

“You wear dresses”—Hollyhock inhaled—“I always wanted Amber to wear pretty, frilly dresses, but she fights me. She’s not much on girly. I would like to have a little girl that I could dress up in dresses… though there’s not many dresses to be found ‘round these parts.” 

“We could make Runt wear dresses.” Bonk’s muzzle contorted with faint mischievousness and she leaned in a little closer. “He not complain. Much. He does as I say.” 

“You mustn’t abuse his trust.” Hollyhock extended her neck and drew herself to her full height, but was still shorter than Bonk. “Money comes and goes. Stuff comes and goes. Lovers leave. Life changes. Trust is all we have in the world.” 

Bonk’s head tilted off to one side as she listened. 

“I am going to trust you,” Hollyhock said to Bonk. “I want you to look after Tarantula, if you can. He’s tiny, and he has trouble keeping up.” 

“I can do that,” Bonk replied. 

“I’m Hollyhock.” 

“I’m Bonk, this is Runt.” 

“Runt,” the boy-pup repeated in his typical fashion. 

“Come closer, Runt. Let me have a look at you.” 

A bit too eager, Runt slipped off the bed, lunged forwards, tripped over his own paws, and went face-down into a heap on the floor. But just as before, his tail wagged like a flag to let everyone know that he was fine, though he remained face down on the floor and made no effort to get up. He said something, but his words were obscured and unintelligible. 

“Runt”—Corduroy’s voice was peak-nurse—“Runty boy, you have to pick yourself up from the floor before you try to say something. I told you this earlier, remember?” 

Again, more words were muffled by the floor, and Runt’s tail wagged. 

“The poor thing, he’s a bit slow…” Hollyhock moved closer, but then stepped back when Runt’s head lifted. 

When he moved to stand up, Bonk went over to help him, and steadied him. 

“Stand up, dum-dum.” Bonk went to work straightening out Runt’s tunic. “Always falling on face. Slow down. Don’t be a dum-dum. Your face get flatter, I think.” 

“You shouldn’t call him a dum-dum.” 

“But Runt is a dum-dum. You see.” Bonk tousled Runt’s ears and then shoved him closer to Hollyhock, who took a cautious step back. 

“Are you alright, Runt? Did you hurt your face?” Hollyhock moved closer, but was a little fearful, a little hesitant as evidenced by the way she moved. 

“Nose squish,” Runt replied whilst he rubbed his snoot with the back of his paw. 

“Yes, your poor little nose did go squish.” Hollyhock drew in a deep breath, seemed to steel herself, and then moved in close enough to touch. Reaching up, she pushed his paw away with her hoof, and examined his face with a critical maternal squint. “No bloody nose, so that’s good. No sign of a fat lip. Amber… she had a fat lip, let me tell you. She fell down a shaft and got busted up pretty bad. You seem fine, but I don’t know enough to be sure. All those sharp teeth. I hope those don’t cut your lips when you fall down.” 

“Runt fall down, hug ground.” 

“Oh.” Ears pinned back, Hollyhock pulled her head away. “Affectionate, are you?” 

Before Runt could respond, the door flew open and a breathless Kant Apfel burst into the infirmary. She panted—heavily—and her eyes were panicked. Even in her current frantic state, she was mindful of the little ones near the door, and didn’t trod upon them when she approached Sundance. 

“Spider!” the fearful mare said to Sundance. 

“In the shitter?” he replied. 

“Baron Potty Mouth!” Corduroy cried. 

“Giant spider! In the old kitchen cave! It tried to web Rusty Tap!” 

“Excuse me.” Corduroy unfolded her long forearms from her rather slender girth. “Pardon me. Coming through. I have to go and collect my ingredients before they get damaged.” As she passed Sundance, she said to him, “Keep that up and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap, Baron Bedpan Mouth. Now step aside!” 

“What’s with all the giant spiders all of a sudden?” asked Sundance as Corduroy made her exit. 

“Milord,” Kant Apfel replied, “it’s spider season, and Cucumber isn’t here to keep them away. We’ll be overrun without him…”
> As the storm approaches, so too does doom
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dry thunder. Heat lightning. A dead, giant spider dragged through the commons area by one still-quivering leg. Subdued but sincere cheers from disturbed peasants who truly appreciated their resident spider-slayer. A group of old mares who huddled together and consoled one another. For Sundance, all of this was a lesson; ponies were ruled by fear. They lived in terror of all manner of things, and for good reason. But after fear came the sweet release, and Sundance wondered if, perhaps, common ponies wanted to be scared. 

So, it was now spider season, the time of year when giant spiders went out in search for food and for victims to bind up in their websacks so that their young might feed. The spiders would sneak in during the night, when it was dark and all were asleep, and then wait in ambush. Thankfully, these giant spiders weren’t terribly bright, like some giant spiders, and couldn’t open doors. So everypony was mostly safe while they slept, though coming out in the middle of the night to go potty did put one at risk. 

Sundance wasn’t having this; something would be done. 

But what to do was the question of the hour. 

This was the wilderness; spiders happened. So did owlbears and other things. Bears prowled far too close to the orchard and grew braver every day. Pawprints of giant cats had already been spotted in places far too close to home. Cucumber, by and large, had been the one to deal with these menaces. But the old soldier was gone… which left Sundance in charge of safety. Truth be told, he really didn’t know how to fight. Oh, he had the scars to look like a somewhat credible threat, but lacked the skills. 

Overhead, the sky grew darker, the air grew hotter, but the breeze colder. It was as if the coming storm reflected the current tension. Trouble was a-brewing, that much was obvious, and the anticipation of what was to come grew unbearable. There would be more spiders—and the storm was sure to put on a show. Sundance’s feathers told him that this would be no mere summer storm, no common deluge, but something else entirely. 

The dome homes were safe and secure; no storm could threaten them. 

“Don’t feel right, Milord.” 

Acorn stood shivering nearby. 

“Last time it felt like this, we got hail. Not good for the crops.” 

Sundance’s lips tightened into a savage scowl. 

“And then there was that storm that blew over the old tower. Feels a bit like that, it does.” 

“It does.” Pea shuffled closer, spat into the grass near his front feet, and gave himself a shake as the wind ruffled his mane and tail. “Once, when I was a colt, it snowed in the middle of summer. Snow as deep as a pony was tall. We lost all our crops. All of them. The Milord had to go and get food for us so we wouldn’t starve come winter. Rough times, those. A lot of the older ponies wandered off and went missing.” 

Sundance knew without asking that those ponies most certainly didn’t go missing. 



 

There was beauty in chaos, and desire in terror. Sundance stood atop the gatehouse and watched as the storm devoured the distant horizon. Multi-coloured spears of lightning flashed; blues, greens, reds, oranges, purples, every colour of the thauma-electric rainbow. A part of Sundance wanted to fly into the storm, to see and to experience it from within. It called to him, a booming siren’s song whose audible tendrils tugged upon his ears. 

Hooves clip-clopped against the stone, and Sundance was no longer alone. Paradox slipped into his peripheral vision. She was worried, though about what remained unknown for the moment. He watched her as she eyed the distant storm, and wondered if she too, felt some urge to be drawn within. For him, it was the weather, but for her, he suspected that she would be attracted to the violence and explosions. 

He’d grown fond of his cousin, and couldn’t imagine life without her. She was family, a confidant, and a trusted advisor. Of course, he still sought to earn her trust; while things were better, she still didn’t like to be touched. There were times when she was still fearful of him, and this pained him a great deal. She couldn’t help it, so he didn’t dare hold it against her. All he could do was give her plenty of space and hope that, with time and patience, she would heal. 

“Princess Celestia gave me a book before I left, the Monstrum Grimoirum.” She paused for a moment as she often did when collecting her thoughts, or perhaps just steeling her nerves to remain so near to him. “It seems we are infested with doom weavers. As far as giant spiders go, they are unique. They can swarm, a bit like locusts can, but what makes these spiders special is that they practice mutualism, just like ants. Well, when they swarm, that is. Typically, they are solitary, but under the right conditions, when the eggs all hatch at just the right time, food is plentiful, and the environment is just right, they can swarm, and form a sort of hive-minded collective entity.” 

This did not bode well… 

“So, spiders have learned that friendship is magic.” 

“Sundance, I won’t feel any guilt hurling you over the parapets, because you have wings.” 

Teasing. Teasing was good. She felt safe enough to teasingly threaten him. Somehow, this felt like an accomplishment. He rather enjoyed her stoic grimace, her stolid reaction to his awful, awful joke. Paradox was beautiful, intelligent, and he wanted good things for her, a good life for her. She was owed that, even more so now that she’d been subjected to his awful wisecracks. The wind blew her mane back from her face, and distant lightning could be seen reflected in her eyes. 

“Most interesting to note, doom weaver venom is extremely valuable.” 

“Just how valuable?” asked Sundance, who now had a morbid sense of intrigue. 

“About a thousand gold bits per cubic centimetre of liquid.” 

“Wow…” 

“Well, the book is about ten years old, so that number might’ve changed,” she was quick to say. “It might be worth less… or more. The information is a bit outdated. I do find it curious though that the Monstrum Grimoirum lists financial information for various monsters and monster bits. I suppose it is alchemy focused.” 

“Or Princess Celestia wanted us to make a profit from the monsters that threaten us.” 

“That’s—” Her words trailed off; then Paradox stood silent and thoughtful. 

“A very Princess Celestia thing to do?” he suggested. “Turn adversity into an asset. If we’re going to be plagued with spiders, maybe we can get something out of it. That is the way of things. Our troubles are good for us. Just look at how Equestria has prospered from the war. New technologies, rapid social change, a newfound sense of national identity and purpose. These spiders might represent an opportunity for us, if we are bold.” 

“Princess Celestia knew that Nightmare Moon would soon return. That’s adversity. She sent her student, Twilight Sparkle, off to deal with it. Thus, Twilight became an asset. Your assertion rings true, Sundance. While you might not be the smartest pony, you are wise. Your rulership shows evidence of that.” 

“Why, thank you, Paradox.” 

“Don’t mention it. It is written in my job description as your court wizard that I should be encouraging, without resorting to hollow, meaningless flattery. This seemed like a good time to try it out.” 

The peals of far-off cannonballs and mortar blasts of thunder crackled. 

“Doom weavers are ambush spiders. They creep into a location under the cover of darkness, secure themselves a location where prey are bound to be, and then wait. The issue, as I see it, is that we don’t have a night watch. I’m going to try an alarm spell. In the past, I was able to cast small ones, like on the door to my room to keep out snoopers, but we’re going to need big ones, with broad detection radii. I’ll give it my best.” 

“You’re smart, Paradox. You’ll find a solution, of this I am certain.” 

“Uh, thank you, Sundance.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He saw her smile, and his heart warmed considerably. 

“I have a duty to these ponies,” she said to him rather haltingly. “Princess Celestia charged me with keeping them safe. Keeping you safe as well. It’s weird, because I’ve spent most of life not feeling safe. Not at all. Now that I think about it, this is probably Princess Celestia trying to turn adversity into an asset.” 

“Probably.” Sundance found himself inclined to agree. 

“What if a pony spent a thousand years teaching themselves how to turn every conceivable weakness into a strength of some sort?” asked Paradox. 

Good question. Sundance did not respond, but watched the embattled horizon far to the south. Paradox also showed signs that she could be an excellent ruler, that she could be a reasonable, rational figure of authority. From the corner of his eye, he watched as her ears twitched and bounced with every explosion of thunder. 

“We’re not like other ponies,” she said, sharing her thoughts with Sundance. “We have these thoughts… these realisations. There are these moments of spectacular insight, and then we strive to apply these to ourselves. That sets us apart, Sundance. I knew from an early age that I wasn’t like the others. But then I went to school… and in Princess Celestia’s school, I met others just like me. Blew my mind. I… well, I observed that ponies tend to come in two distinct varieties. 

“Makes me feel awful to say it, but most ponies are content to let others do the thinking for them. They just go about their business and they would never think about if Princess Celestia spent a thousand years learning how to exploit her mistakes as advantages. And then there are ponies like myself… like you… we’re not like the others. Is it because we’re born to rule? I’m not sure I believe that. 

“What I do believe is that we might be mistakes. Some sort of fault in herd-think. But by placing us in charge, Princess Celestia might have found a solution that keeps both types of ponies happy. There has to be a place for us, Sundance. Surely you’ve felt like a stranger in a crowd.” 

Before he could respond, Paradox had even more to say. 

“We are a mistake, Sundance. There can be no doubt of that. We’re not just mindlessly happy like the others. We’re not content with mere purpose. You and I, we require meaning. In doing so, others take offense to us. We’re called dreamers, or seen as pretentious, snooty ponies. Our intellectualism and compulsion to find deeper meaning just annoys those who are content with the simple pleasures of life. We’re accused of overcomplicating things, overthinking things, and we’re lectured by the others that we’d be so much happier if we just didn’t have our thinking problem. 

“But, if we’re put in charge, it keeps us so busy that we don’t have to overthink our own lives. Gives us something to do. I don’t know about you, but I feel so much better now that I have a higher purpose. There’s just no time to obsess over my own troubles. Princess Celestia was right to send me here, even if I wasn’t wholly sold on the idea.” 

Sundance thought of his mother, who often told him to turn off his brain for a while. Give it a rest. Sometimes, his overthinking annoyed her. As for his father, Sundance’s father kept quiet mostly. He said very little. But when Sundance had himself a moment just like the one that Paradox had right now, his father would slip away in silence and make himself scarce. 

It bothered him somewhat that Paradox might actually have a point. 

While her words lingered in this thoughts—perhaps too much so—his continued fascination with what she said didn’t mean that she was right. It just meant that what she said hit a little too close to home. Being sentenced to servitude was certainly one way to quiet down a chattery mind, at least in theory, though Sundance found that his mind had far more to say now that he was responsible for the lives of others. 

The storm crept along the sloped, wind-swept meadows and drew ever-closer. 

Paradox seemed lost in thought now. Perhaps she reflected upon her own words, or sought out more to say. Sundance couldn’t tell. Maybe she was fascinated by the storm, just like he was. What could she see from here? His keen eyes allowed him to see incredible detail, but he didn’t know how unicorns saw the world, or earth ponies for that matter. While both he and Paradox were ponies, miniscule equines of diminutive stature, there were physical differences between them. 

A shout of alarm was heard, then another, and a third loud cry echoed up from the inside of the secured box canyon. Sundance reacted without thought, his head darted around to look for danger, his eyes going every which way. Another spider? A quick examination of the ground revealed nothing, and a fourth holler made his guts go tense. Just when it seemed that danger was elusive, he looked up—and that is when he saw the cause for alarm. Right above the waterfall, a hulking behemoth tumbled through the troubled sky. 

It only took him a fraction of a second to identify what it was, and it was her! The strange night terror mare he met during target practice. Only, there was something wrong. He could see it from where he stood. Her wings? Almost shredded. How was she even flying at all? Scarlet rain trickled from her body as she thrashed through the air. Though she valiantly struggled to remain airborne, this was a battle she could not win, and she seemed to be on a crash-course for the water tower above Corduroy’s infirmary. 

Suddenly, Sundance was in the air without even a single thought about it. Action taken with his body was swift and sure—he didn’t have to think, only do. A crowd had gathered down below, and from their cries Sundance gathered that they saw something quite different than he did. The bloodied nightmare plummeted drastically and Sundance swooped in, only to realise that he couldn’t save her. She was huge, solid, and in an uncontrolled deadfall. 

If she continued on course, she would wipe out the water tower, and maybe damage the infirmary below the water tower. When he drew near—all of this happening in mere fractions of slivered seconds—he reached for her with both front legs. He couldn’t stop the crash, but he could change the outcome. She was solid, sturdy, a creature of legendary toughness. She might survive a crash into the water tower, but the water tower might not. 

Wings flapping full force, he slammed into her, and it was as though he struck a brick wall. Immediately, he was wet with hot blood as he got one foreleg around her neck, and the other hooked beneath her left wing. Rough, sharp things poked him, tore at his skin, and in the places where these sharp prickles pierced him, he went numb right away. His wings clawed at the aether, trying to find traction, and he felt his butthole pucker tight from strain as it clenched tight to prevent his insides from squirting out. He felt woozy, weak, and his strength seemed to be fading fast. Why? 

It didn’t matter why. 

He pulled. 

The both of them cleared the water tower with mere inches to spare, but the infirmary was still down below. Sundance tried to flap his wings, but for reasons unknown they didn’t want to move. Numbing tingles spread through his limbs, all six of them, and he was sapped of his remaining strength. He saw how close the roof was—too close for comfort, and when he knew that they would hit it, he made a rough choice. In a somewhat controlled tumble, he pushed the strange mare away and then he took the glancing blow, knowing that his body posed no real danger to the infirmary’s roof in the way that her’s might. 

It knocked the wind out of him and prevented further injury to the stranger. 

An eyeblink later, the ground greeted them both, but Sundance first. Most of the night terror landed atop him, and for the second time he feared that his innards might go squirting out of his hindquarters. She was a wet, heavy heap, drenched in blood. More prickly things, little stabby thorns perhaps, pierced his skin. The numbness spread rapidly and Sundance could no longer feel his hooves. He felt nauseous, queasy, and knew he would soon be sick. 

Something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. 
> An hour among the sunflowers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Corduroy… help me, I feel woozy…” 

“That’s because you’re dying, Sundance.” 

“But I… I don’t want to die. There’s so much I haven’t done… like get laid.” 

Corduroy came into his field of vision, but she was blurry. Before her, she held a pair of tweezers, and pinched in said tweezers was something he couldn’t quite see. Everything was out of focus and he found it difficult to blink his eyes. His heart felt slow and he couldn’t feel any of his extremities. He was lying in a bed, but he couldn’t feel that either. In fact, he couldn’t feel much of anything at all. For a moment, he thought he saw a thorn held in the tweezers, but then his vision turned fuzzy and indistinct. 

“This is a spider fang,” Corduroy said. “It scratched you. Some of them are still stuck in you. A lot of them, actually. Bunches and bunches of tiny spider fangs scratched you and pierced your skin. You’re in luck though—” 

“I am?” Sundance didn’t recognise the sound of his own voice. 

“You are. I just made a fresh batch of antivenin. With giant spiders around, I figured that somepony was bound to get bit.” The towering nurse pulled her tweezers away. “But you have more than one bite, in a manner of speaking. I don’t actually know how bad this is.” 

“Oh…” Sundance wanted to say more, but found he lacked the motivation to do so. 

“Paradox, I need you to clean up Sundance and find every little fang that you can. I am going to administer some antivenin to him and then go to work on our visitor. She has huge fangs stuck in her, and I might need your help when I do surgery.” 

“Surgery?” Paradox’s voice sounded rather hesitant. 

“Some of the larger fangs appear stuck. Possibly lodged in bone or in between ribs.” 

“Oh… that’s not good.” There was a loud gulp from Paradox. 

“We have our work cut out for us, Paradox. Let’s get started.” 



 

The bed rocked like a rowboat on a choppy sea and Sundance was certain that he could feel his stomach sliding up and down his throat with each rise and fall of the bed. A terrible, cruel cold permeated his bones and his addled brain was certain that the chill of death was upon him. It was taking a while, his death, and given his current state of being, he sort of wished that his inevitable end would hurry up. 

“Say, does this cloth smell like chloroform?” asked Corduroy. 

Sundance heard the visitor reply, “Yeah, it kinda does.” 

“Uh…” Sundance could almost hear the quizzical dog expression on Corduroy’s face when he heard her confuzzled response. 

“What were you expecting, exactly? I have more spider venom than blood right now and you think that a little chloroform is going to knock me out? Please. Just do your job. Do surgery. Do whatever is needed. For the love of Luna, please, please pull out the big spider fang in my right teat. It stings!” 

“Will do,” Corduroy dutifully replied. “Just yank it out?” 

“Please!” 

“Alright then—” 

Sundance lost awareness of whatever happened next because his rowboat capsized. 



 

A sea of sunflowers with warm, smiling faces stretched from horizon to horizon. Narrow paths wound their way between the tall, stately flowers, and Sundance tried to make sense of how he’d arrived here in this odd, sunflowery place. There was no sun in the sky that he could see, yet it was quite sunny. Some of the sunflowers regarded him with curious expressions, while others ignored him and continued to bask in the sunlight that shone from a sun that did not exist. 

Yes, he could see faces in the seeds, or perhaps the faces were the seeds. In his current state, it was hard to tell. Some of the sunflowers watching him crossed their leaves over their stems, in very much the same way that Corduroy crossed her arms over her girth. The fact that the sunflowers studied him in such a scrutinous way made Sundance nervous, even more so than having no memory of how he arrived here in this place. 

“You appear lost,” a nearby sunflower said in a grandmotherly voice. 

“I think I am,” Sundance replied. “Do you know where I am?” 

A gruff, grandfatherly sunflower replied, “Why, this is the astral plane, of course. You were put you here so your soul wouldn’t go drifting off.” 

“Am I dead?” asked Sundance. 

“Not exactly,” another sunflower said to him. “You exist in between. ‘Tis easy for the soul to get confused in these states. Sometimes, it goes wandering off and doesn’t come back. Souls are rather stupid.” 

He tilted his head upwards, squinted up at the cloudless sky, and had a good look around. There was nothing for him to get his bearings with. No sun… yet the sky was blue and he felt warm daylight on his face. One of the nearby sunflowers leaned in a little closer and seemed to study him. While it was unnerving, Sundance said nothing. Who was he to tell sunflowers what to do? 

“Who put me here?” 

Several of the sunflowers harrumphed, as if offended, and one of them a few rows back said, “Sometimes, ponies are a reflection of their soul.” 

“I’m confused… what do you mean by that?” asked Sundance. 

“I rest my case,” the unseen sunflower a few rows back replied. 

“Oh, the poor dear is confused. Leave him be, ye bugbear.” 

Sundance found the movement of the seedy faces disconcerting. The soil beneath his hooves felt strange to him, somehow more real than usual while also being less than real. He felt the heat of the sun, but there was no sun, and after a few moments of trying to make sense of his senses, he realised that the sunflowers radiated the pleasant warmth that graced his skin. 

“Who are you?” Sundance glanced around him, unsure if he was ready for the answer. Surely, these sunflowers had to be somepony—er, somebody—someflower? As he stood there, waiting for an answer, and also trying to make sense of things, he discovered that his sense of up and down no longer functioned. 

His compass was busted; there was no north. 

“We are what you will one day be,” the gruff, grandfatherly sunflower said while his fellows all around him chuckled. 

“So, is this some kind of afterlife?” 

“No, this is the astral plane,” a snarky sunflower was quick to say. “Pay attention.” 

“You know”—Sundance spoke matter-of-factly—“sunflowers are edible.” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t dare. There’d be consequences. We’ll haunt your dreams, Bucko… just like we sometimes do to Rainbow Dash.” One of the sunflowers now stood with long leaves akimbo. 

“Yes, we must all have our hobbies,” another agreed with a bob and a nod. 

Sundance didn’t let this slide. “All things considered, you’re a bit rude.” 

“We stand around in the sun all day. Forever. Gets a bit boring.” 

“That’s not much of an excuse.” Sundance heard a great rustling as all of the sunflowers around him swayed together and brought their seedy little eyes to bear upon him. 

He turned about, had himself a quick look around, and noticed that his hooves made no sound when they clopped against the soil. An unfathomable number of seedy faces watched him, some with amusement, some with idle interest, and others with boredom. The seeds were like… well, very much like the grainy dotted images of the newspaper, where if one looked too close the image was ruined, but from a distance a reasonable picture emerged. He saw pony faces in the sunflowers, and even spotted pony ears in the form of pricked petals that stood at attention. 

These were once ponies, perhaps. 

“One day, you will stand among us.” A nearby sunflower spoke with a kind mare’s voice. “Most of your soul will go on to whatever fate it deserves, but a little seed of your existence will be planted here. You have bonded with the land. Just as we have. Our magic is now your magic.” 

“Our memories are now your memories,” another said. 

“And one day, when you die, a part of you will sprout here. Your magic will be passed on, and your memories. This is how the land provides. Ancestral magic. A great chain of existence that cannot be broken. She poured her tears and blood into the land… her hopes and worries.” 

He didn’t need to ask; they obviously spoke of Celestia. But, he was curious, and only one question arose within his mind. A question he feared to ask, and yet, his heart would not remain silent. He had to know. Even if he didn’t like the answer. Seedy faces studied him, watched him, his elders and ancestors, all those who’d come before him. 

“Is Cucumber here among you?” 

“He is,” the sunflower with the kind mare’s voice replied. “But I know not where. He is still a sprout, and not yet awoken to his new existence. His ties to the land were strong. For a time, he embodied the will of the land, and all of us kept him alive until a suitable replacement could be found. There is much the land can do. Much that we can do.” 

“You are one of us now,” a sunflower behind Sundance said. 

“You would not be here otherwise,” a soft, feminine voice said. 

“So, snarky peasants and lords and ladies become snarky sunflowers,” Sundance remarked. “I could think of worse fates. So, tell me, what of the previous lord? Is he here among you?” 

“He is not.” A gruff sunflower with a gravelly voice spat out the words. “Weeds do not bond with the land, they are parasites who destroy it.” 

“Oh.” Sundance felt the need to say more, but what, exactly? What could probably be said at a time like this? Perhaps the will of the land moved through poor Cucumber and yanked the pernicious weed from the garden. He started to ask, but then reconsidered. No, he decided. No, this was something he was better off not knowing. Whatever awful fate awaited Cucumber for violating his oath, at least a little part of him found refuge here. 

He would not carelessly destroy this much-needed comfort. 

“We will bolster your wisdom,” an elderly-voiced sunflower said. “Learn to meditate and focus upon the voices within. Develop your memories. Learn to commune with the land.” 

“You are not a unicorn, but we have other magics we can offer.” 

“Say, you caused the whole lightning thing, didn’t you?” 

“We did. Think of your state of mind at the time. Ponder upon your reflections. Call upon us and we will answer. We do not act to benefit you, but the land to which you are bound.” 

“Um, while I am here… is there anything you want from me? Is there anything I can do?” 

“There is, in fact, something you can do…” 



 

“The worst seems to have subsided. Look, he stirs.” 

Sundance shivered beneath a whole heap of blankets and his teeth clattered together. He could feel his blood trickling through veins that felt far too narrow, far too tight. Icy vices squeezed his hooves, and his legs were stabbed by millions of pins and needles. The flavour of his own tongue made him want to gag; it was vaguely metallic and positively foul. 

“He’s tougher than he looks,” a deep voice rumbled. “I’m honestly surprised.” 

“Those spiders proved to be a blessing,” Paradox said. “Without the antivenin…” Her words faded into a soft, muted squeak. “Sundance, can you hear me?” 

A gurgling croak escaped his lips, a dreadful, awful sound. A second later, his head was lifted and when he looked up, he saw Corduroy looking down at him. She shone a light into one eye, then the other, and then prodded his face with her thumb. When she pinched his ear, he yelped, and he saw the look of relief on her forlorn face. 

Then, a cup of water was pressed to his lips. He slurped it, almost choked, and Corduroy raised him into sitting position. The pins and needles in his limbs caused intense pain, but water proved a worthy distraction. Now that he was upright, and held in place by Corduroy, he could drink, and did. The cold, wet liquid cooled his hot, parched throat, and washed some of the awful taste off of his tongue. 

“Congratulations are in order,” the deep, gruff voice said. “You survived the magical aspects of the venom, so you’ll probably have a bit of immunity to paralysis magic in the future. Of course, I’ll be utterly immune to this spider venom after this. But the fact that you survived at all is impressive.” 

“You speak as though this is a good thing,” Paradox said. 

“It is.” The rough voice was cold. Deadpan. “This is probably the best thing that could have possibly happened to him. This is the best possible outcome. Whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger.” 

“This comes from a creature that is as weak as a kitten right now,” said Corduroy. 

“I’ll get my strength back. I’m not worried. I survived manticore poison and chimera poison. I may not look like it on the outside, but on the inside, make no mistake… I am a pegasus. We endure. We survive, and we endure. My kind were constructed on pegasus foundations.” 

“Sundance, this is River Raider. She says that you’ve met.” Paradox shuffled near Sundance’s bed. 

Water dribbled down Sundance’s chin and he tried to have a look around. His eyes wouldn’t focus though, and everything more than a leg-length away was all smeary. He could feel, and a part of his brain understood just how important this was. Not being able to feel meant paralysis. His muscles twitched, his heart thumped, and the stabby sensations in his tender wings made him want to whimper. 

“I had to give you mouth-to-mouth for a while,” Corduroy said softly into his ear. “You were still breathing, but only just barely. The spider venom caused almost complete immobilisation. You seem to be getting sensation back. Can you say something?” 

He croaked, coughed, spluttered, and then tried again. “We kissed. Did I enjoy it?” 

Corduroy went stiff for a moment, her ears pricked tall, her jowls wibble-wobbled, and then, quite without warning, she rolled her eyes. “We need to get you to a specialist so you can be checked for brain damage, Sundance.” 

He turned his head, squinted, strained to see, and managed to make out a huge heap of mare in the nearby bed. She was mummified in bandages—all of her, from ear to hoof—and he strained to hear the sound of her breathing. Would she be alright? And what of himself? Would he recover? It seemed likely. 

Thunder rumbled and rattled the infirmary. 

“Might I get a cup of tea?” he asked. 

“Sure,” was Corduroy’s response. “You could probably use a little liquid.” 

“Thank you.” He felt Corduroy’s paw slide along the length of his back and he was lowered back down into his bed. The sheets were still damp with sweat, and he shivered from the clammy moistness of his bedding. “Thank you, Corduroy. Really. You keep saving me.” 

“It’s my job,” the dutiful diamond dog replied. “I am obligated to save my friends…” 
> A River flows
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dry thunder made every bit of glass within the infirmary rattle. It was hot, sticky, the air was thick to the point of almost-soupiness, and yet Sundance was so cold that he almost shivered. He barely understood the reason why, something about blood vessel constriction and a lack of significant blood flow. Corduroy assured him that this would pass, perhaps in a few hours, and then he would be fine. 

As for Corduroy herself, she was hunched over her workbench and she did nurse-dog things, whatever those things might be. He heard the burble and slosh of liquid, the clink of glass, and the soft hiss of a blue-flamed burner. Corduroy’s work ethic was indomitable, almost intimidating. She worked through a task until completion, with no thought given to fatigue. 

“You did right to push me away from the water tower.” 

River Raider’s voice was unexpected; Sundance believed her to be asleep. 

“That was brave of you. You had your priorities straight. I might’ve wrecked it. Don’t know if it would have hurt me much, but it would’ve been a pain to rebuild. You had remarkable clarity of thought in that moment.” There was a long, drawn out, thunder-filled pause, and then she continued, “Your concern for me is unexpected, but appreciated.”

He thought about his words carefully, but didn’t know what to say. She already knew his motivations, his reasons—there was a chance that she might understand his own thoughts better than he did. The conversation felt one sided, but he refused to feel intimidated by this. Even though she praised him for his actions, he still felt conflicted from his actions. 

Since this conversation seemed to be complicated to breach, he chose a far more simple conversation, and asked her, “So, what happened?” 

River Raider replied, “I like talking. Like, I like talking a lot. Me and my kind, from our control group, we hardly talk to one another. We use telepathy and mind-to-mind communication, to make it stronger. But mine is already too strong. Rather than talk to me, I just get ignored. I’m the freak. The factory reject. The failure. I like to talk. I like hearing the sound of my own voice. It helps to drown out all other voices I hear inside my head.” She drew in a deep breath. 

“I was actually getting a bit of sleep, which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like. Earlier, I’d gorged on fish, frogs, and crunchy, crunchy crawfish.” She smacked her lips and the sound rivaled the thunder outside. “So I was getting some much-needed sleep and I woke up covered in swarming spiders. Just the little ones. I could sense the common-mind they all shared. Naturally, I defended myself. Bigger spiders moved in to subdue me. I was webbed, bitten, but the little spiders couldn’t pierce my hide. 

“Dumb little spiders misjudged their prey. Nature doesn’t forgive that, you know. So the biggest spiders move in and they start shredding my wings with their clawed feet and they bite me. But hairy spiders are flammable—surprise—and so am I. One of nature’s quirks. I’m a fire-breather that can set themselves on fire. Spiders with watermelon-sized bodies are all over me, stabbing me, biting me, slashing at me with their clawed, bladed legs. My cave is swarmed. Early on, I know this a fight I can’t win, so I escaped, and came here for help. I’m pretty sure my home sweet home is now spider swarm central.” 

“That’s… not… good…” Huddled beneath his blankets, Sundance wondered if a showdown with the spider swarm was inevitable. He thought about what Paradox had just told him not that long ago. If the swarm came here—he shivered, and it wasn’t just the cold chill that wracked his body. How did one go about fighting a writhing, wriggle mass of spiders? 

Spider season, indeed. 

“Flasks of alchemical fire would help,” River Raider suggested. “Unicorns with fire spells. Friendly dragons. One or two somewhat annoyed alicorns. A contingent of Immortal Solars. Princess Celestia’s glorious orbital bombardment. You know, she keeps miles-long rocks in orbit for emergencies just like this one.” 

“That’s a bit much,” Corduroy replied. “So the spiders have gone hive-minded?” 

“Without a doubt. I felt it. Sensed it. All of it. It stretched.” 

Stretched? Sundance didn’t like how this sounded. Stretched. He tried to imagine how this was, but his mind drew a blank. It was something outside of his experience, and his imagination lacked the means to conceive it. With a waggle of his wing, he flipped his blanket over his head, and then peered out whilst he resisted the urge to shiver. If only he could get warm, he would feel better. 

“One mind stretched over many bodies. One unifying thought, one need, one motive, one desire. And that is hunger. While hive minds can be complex, this one isn’t. The spiders are stupid. Not much in the way of brains. If complexity was introduced into the collective mind, it would probably destroy it. No, they keep it simple, and every member of the host wants the same thing.” 

“Fascinating insight,” Corduroy remarked while still hunched over her work. “So do we take out the central mind?” 

“There is no central mind, as far as I know. As I stated, simple and stupid.” 

“Oh.” Corduroy seemed dismayed, at least it sounded this way to Sundance’s ears. “Well, I did collect some tar oil a while back. Was planning to make soap and other stuff. I suppose I’d better make a few alchemical grenades. I have lots of potassium nitrate and sulfur all processed.” 

“Why would you have potassium nitrate stockpiled?” asked River Raider. 

Corduroy shrugged. “Tree stump removal. Fertiliser. You know. Common uses.” 

“Riiiight.” River Raider wiggled a bit, which caused her bed to creak alarmingly beneath her bulk. 

“Is there something I should know?” Sundance first peeked out from beneath his blanket at his nurse, and then at the bandaged behemoth in the next bed over. 

“I’ve yet to meet an alchemist who didn’t make bombs as a hobby—” 

“Hey, I dabble in fireworks.” Corduroy spoke in a low, almost growly deadpan. “Bombs hurt others. I am a pacifist, and a healer. Fireworks are entertaining.” 

“You know I can read your thoughts like an open book, right?” 

Corduroy did not respond. Nothing was said. She remained hunched over for a time, her breathing low, slow, and steady. Then, without warning, she rose suddenly. Paw-fingers flexing, she stretched her spine to straighten it, gave her tail a wag to unkink it, and without saying a word, she left. As the door closed, Sundance could feel the tension left behind—it hung heavy in the air in much the same way as the thunderstorm outside. 

“Oh good, she’s gone,” River Raider said. 

“Uh—” 

“Shut up and listen to what I have to say. You and I, we can’t be friends.” 

“We can’t?” 

“No.” River Raider’s tone was firm. “We can’t.” 

“No?” 

“Look, don’t make this worse.” 

“I’d kind of like to know why.” 

“I suppose I owe you that.” River Raider sighed, and curls of sooty smoke rose from her bandaged face. “You’re attracted to me. And I can’t deal with that. It’s repulsive. Grosses me out. I’m sorry, but I have my reasons. The worst part is, I like you. But it is for the best if we just go our separate ways.” 

Beneath his blanket, Sundance shivered whilst he tried to understand what was said. 

“It’s nothing against you.” River Raider’s tone softened a bit, and more smoke whorled upwards from her muzzle. “It’s me. It’s entirely me.” A throaty rumble reverberated within her massive bulk. “Ugh, that sounds even worse when it is said aloud. Look… I am a flaw. A mistake. A reject. A dead end. I am genetically unsound. 

“But even with all these faults, others still wanted to fronk me.” She paused, and rumbled for a time before she continued, “It started young. Too young. I wasn’t even mature yet, and I became aware of the desire that others had for me. I couldn’t turn my mind off to protect myself. They told me it was normal. Natural. I was female and males would want me. Sometimes, certain thoughts come into the mind unbidden. It doesn’t mean they’ll act on what they think. 

“I was told to filter it out, but I couldn’t. So in my most formative years, I was told that I was a dead end, but I was aware that others wanted to have their way with me. It was too much. I never sorted it out. I couldn’t sort it out. The perversions of others just disgusted me, and I couldn’t deal with them. Which is why I isolated myself.” 

Sundance said his thoughts aloud: “You really do like to talk, don’t you?” 

All he got in return was silence. Uncomfortable silence. He was afraid to think anything, for fear that she might perceive his thoughts wrong, but then he knew that she was already aware of his fears. At least, that seemed likely. He couldn’t hide anything from her—but that might actually work out to his advantage. 

“We can still be friends, you know,” he said to her. 

“No,” she replied, “we can’t. Mares and stallions can’t be friends. It doesn’t work that way. The only reason a stallion ever shows any kind of friendship to a mare is because he wants to fronk her. That’s it. That’s the ugly truth.” 

“You’re wrong.” Sundance was fearful that he might be wrong, but he flew straight for the heart of the storm anyway. “I am friends with Paradox… and Corduroy. Lots of females, actually… and as far as I am aware, I don’t want to fronk them. If I do, it is a subconscious thing.” He was aware of his rising doubt, and knew that River Raider surely sensed it as well. “I take offense to the idea that we can’t be friends.” 

Things became even more confusing when Sundance thought of Turmeric. 

Miserable, frozen, shivering, Sundance tried to make sense of his own thoughts, and a part of him actually resented River Raider for probably having a better understanding of his own inner-workings than he did. She was in there right now, having herself a look around, and none of his secrets were safe. Perhaps she was aware of the secrets he kept hidden from himself. Paranoid fear crept into the fringes of his thoughts, and he began to wonder if perhaps he might delude himself when it came to his feelings about Paradox and Corduroy. 

“I’ll be damned.” 

Sundance’s pricked ears caused the blanket to pull away from his face. 

“Unexpected.” 

He waited, fearful of saying anything. 

“You don’t actually want to shag Paradox.” 

“I don’t?” Sundance was rather surprised to learn this. 

“Oh, trust me, I am just as surprised as you are right now. There is only simple, uncluttered goodness in your mind.” 

“So… you and I can be friends—” 

“No, we can’t. Because you’re attracted to me.” 

“Doesn’t mean I have to act on it. I can behave myself.” 

“Huh… you actually believe that. I mean, it is one thing to say it… anypony could say that… but you mean it. Right now, you actually feel guilty for causing me discomfort. I don’t know what to make of this.” 

“I do? Feel guilty, I mean… well, I suppose I do.” 

“You’re nauseatingly good.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thanks.” 

“Disgusting.” 

Sundance poked his muzzle out from beneath his blanket and allowed his thoughts to flow unhindered. He had nothing to hide and wanted River Raider to experience all of his nauseating, disgusting goodness. She clearly needed a friend, somepony who would listen to her, so she could talk. Because she liked to talk. She was a chatterbox with a lot to say and she was in desperate need of a sympathetic ear. 

“This won’t work,” she said to him. “If we’re friends, sooner or later, you’ll think that you have a chance with me. That things will somehow work out. You’ll get your hopes up, and then I’ll have to crush them. Look, I have enough regrets that rob me of sleep. I don’t want to have to be nasty to a creature of such sickening goodness. No offense, but I don’t need that kind of guilt in my life.” 

“For the record, I’m sticking my neck out to be friends with you. It’s not like you’d be an easy friend. I am willing to deal with all of you complications… even if nothing ever happens between us.” Sundance wished that he was smarter, that he had a better understanding of how to deal with this, but he was stuck with working with what he had. 

She sighed, and sent billowing clouds of smoke upwards. “You’re right. The very fact that I know what you are thinking right now is the reason why I’d be a difficult friend. No privacy. Total honesty. You couldn’t tell little fiblets to spare my feelings. There is no way you could be socially duplicitous. I would know your motivations… understand them better than you do, perhaps. The fact that you’re willing to put up with this says a lot about you.” 

“And my disgusting goodness?” he asked. 

“A lot of supposedly ‘good’ creatures actually have some pretty disturbing stuff in their minds. Things that they repress. Unwholesome things. Hidden desires and secret shames. Like you and your feelings for your friend, Turmeric. You want to try things, just to see what they are like. Without attachment, for the sake of mere experimentation. But you won’t act on it because you’re afraid that it will ruin your friendship.” 

Stunned to silence, Sundance tried to sort out his thoughts. It was true that he had some feelings about his friend, Turmeric, but until right now, this moment, he was unaware of the depths of said feelings. Which confirmed his suspicions; River Raider knew him better than he knew himself. Upon further reflection, this had to be reassuring for River, because she had to know that if he wouldn’t act on his feelings for Turmeric for the sake of friendship, then he most certainly wouldn’t act upon the feelings he had for her. Quite without meaning to do so, he stumbled into a better understanding of himself, and was grateful for this opportunity. 

“You’re welcome,” River Raider said without a shred of sarcasm or snark. 

“Can… can you help me—” 

“Understand yourself better?” She finished off his question in a perfectly neutral tone. “Why would you do this to yourself? Why would you ask the object of your forbidden desires to be your friend and to plumb the depths of your unknown secrets? And don’t you dare say, ‘friendship is magic’. Don’t even think it—I just said don’t you even think it but you did it anyway!” 

“I couldn’t help it,” he blurted out whilst he thought of apologetic thoughts. Mostly, he thought about her telepathy as a blessing rather than the curse she believed it to be. He thought about it real hard. As hard as he could. With as much mental effort as he could muster, he thought about how she could use her gift to help somepony, so that her suffering might have some meaning, some value, some greater purpose. 

“Ugh, you really are disgustingly good. I can see why Celestia put you here. She wanted you out of the way so you wouldn’t be a detriment to others.” River Raider rolled over onto her side, kicked out her bandaged legs, and then went still. “Look… the world isn’t what you believe it to be. It is a horrible wretched place populated with horrible wretched creatures, awful, terrible creatures with perverse, wicked minds, and all of society is an illusion. Somehow, you missed the memo.” 

“I dunno, I’ve looked at some pretty, uh, perverted porn. My innocence can’t be what you make it out to be.” 

“Pfah,” she spat. “You didn’t let it change you. And you didn’t go looking at anything soul-destroying, like foal-fronking porn. Your mind isn’t cluttered by gross things.” 

Sundance deflated. He didn’t have an answer for that. He thought about the traumatic conversation with his mother when he found out that certain things done in porn were real. Yes, it seemed that his naïveté was intact. It was comforting to know that the world hadn’t corrupted him, but also disheartening to learn just how disconnected he was from the world at large. 

“If I may confess, I am confused by your attraction to me. Oh, I get it. I know exactly why you are attracted… I understand your fetishes, such as they may be. But I still don’t get it. I am not physically beautiful by the standards and societal expectations of your kind.” 

“Uh”—he licked his lips, nervous about what he was about to say—“for all of your mind reading, if you can’t see why I find you beautiful, then maybe you don’t know as much as you think you know. It might be time to reconsider what you think you see.” 

She snorted, a mighty blast that permeated the air with the scent of woodsmoke. 

“It’s like reading a book… you might read the words, but that doesn’t mean you understand them. I’ve read lots of books, but there are whole chapters I failed to comprehend. Yes, I do think you’re beautiful. I like looking at you. Something about you pushes all the right buttons. So it seems that you can read thoughts, but not abstracts.” 

Again, she snorted, and this time Sundance allowed himself just a little smug satisfaction. 

“Don’t get cocky,” she warned. 

“You don’t understand the how or why—” 

“I just said don’t get cocky.” 

It was a puzzle. She was a puzzle. River Raider was a riddle, something for him to ponder and figure out. He used his wings to pull and tuck his blankets against his sides, and he pulled his frozen legs beneath him with the hopes of somehow getting them warm again. River Raider might know him better than he understood himself, she might know his secrets, but she didn’t understand the inner workings, the clockwork of his thoughts. He was a book with hidden, obscured context, and while she could read his sentences, she had trouble deriving their meaning. 

“Corduroy has cooled off and she’s coming back,” River Raider said. “Not a word. I could probably make her leave again, but I already feel bad about the first time I did it. That’s gonna keep me from sleeping, I just know it. I’ll be up all day fretting about it and feeling guilty for manipulating her. But I needed a moment to speak to you in private. I wish I hadn’t, because now I feel awful.” 

“Wait—” 

“She feels guilty about her dabbling into dangerous, potentially harmful alchemy. She believes it should be used for healing, not harm. She justifies it with fireworks, but her mind is deeply unsettled by the knowledge contained therein. Make no mistake, your alchemist could scrub a city right off the map with no appreciable effort. The guilt eats at her.” 

“Oh—” Sundance was about to say more, but he heard something just beyond the door. 

“You do whatever. I’m going to pretend that I’m asleep now.” 

The door opened, Corduroy entered, and Sundance didn’t quite know what to say or do. 
> Hooligan headache
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.” 





 
> A funny thing happened on the way to the Friendship Castle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was the day. After what felt like forever, after enduring a long, sleepless night, Sundance would journey to Ponyville to meet with Princess Twilight Sparkle. How did he feel about this? He didn’t know. Nary a useful idea floated between his ears and his brain felt very much like a thunderhead—full of energy with a desire to make a scene. Oh, a very well-behaved scene, but he definitely wanted to impress the princess when he met her. And how did one impress a princess? He didn’t know. 

He paced—no, he pranced back and forth in the space between the infirmary, the kitchen, and the dining hall. It was a nice space, somepony had planted flowers along the edge of the buildings. His every step was remarkably bouncy, as if he were a creature made of clouds, fluff, and fuzz. His mane was longer now, it hadn’t been trimmed in quite some time, and his tail was nothing at all like its former self, unrecognisable in every way. 

“Who?” 

“The princess, that’s who, Owlister,” he said to the owl perched on the metal support strut of the water tower above the infirmary. Sundance paused mid-prance to look up at his own companion. He—no, she, he needed to remember that—had preened herself to perfection, which left her slick and somehow oily in appearance. Owl oil. He admired her glossy feathers and wondered if perhaps his own could be a little more presentable. 

“You’ve changed, Owlister. When I first met you, you looked more like a pincushion. Or a mutant hedgehog.” He watched as she puffed out, offended, and her head turned completely around to face away from him. “You’ve grown. Now you’re pretty and perfect.” There was a hoot, but she did not turn around to face him. “I need you and your fellow owls to help Paradox keep watch at night. These spiders are becoming a real concern.” 

Owlister offered a non-committal hoot as she turned her head back around to face Sundance. Her feathered horns rose, became visible, and there was now something aggressive about her demeanour, something that might even be described as demonic. Some of the older, wiser owls could transform themselves into something quite terrifying, and Owlister was still figuring out her neat transformation trick. 

He felt a gentle tug on his tail and then a sad, growly feminine voice asked, “Are you coming back?” 

When he turned around, his tail was let go of and he found himself more or less eye to eye with Bonk. Her face—in very much the same way that Corduroy’s could be—was wrinkled and sagging with worry. So much more expressive than an equine face, though more difficult for him to read at times. In one paw, she held her firefly jar, and the other paw was still raised from when she’d tugged his tail. 

“Of course I’m coming back,” he said to her. “Just think… I left this place so that I could come and pick up both you and Runt. And I came back. I brought you home.” Sensing distress, he wondered what was wrong with the anxious girl-pup. “What has you so worried? Why are you upset?” 

“Who?” Owlister asked. 

“Uh, not sure that applies here, Owlister.” Sundance kept his attention focused on the fretful pup, but a half-grin did spread across his muzzle. 

“Amber Dawn says you’re my daddy,” Bonk said plainly. “Are you?” 

Sundance’s half-grin decided that now was the perfect time to scram, so it did. He became painfully aware of Hollyhock’s burning stare upon him—it seared him, threatened to burn a hole right through him—and he didn’t even have to look at her to know that he was the target of her irascible ire. It was a physical, palpable sensation, very much like standing for too long in the hot sun. Bonk was squirming now, waiting for an answer—which was a problem because Sundance wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“Uh… yeah… about that. That’s… that is… well, that is a tough thing to sort out.” Sundance’s mouth went dry and his tongue took on a sandy, pebbly texture. He could feel every taste bud, all of which felt too large, too bulbous. 

“Who,” Owlister hooted. 

“No, Owlister, that’s more of a why question. I think.” Distracted, Sundance returned his attention to Bonk, who clutched her jar of illusory fireflies. 

Nearby, Runt seemed quite invested in the outcome of this conversation. Amber Dawn stood beside him, and Lemongrass dutifully stood beside his big sister. Tarantula was almost hidden from view behind Amber, and the little burro yawned while Sundance stood there, uncertain of what to say. Bonk waited for an answer and Sundance reached up with one wing to rub his temple, that tender spot between eye and ear that needed attention during moments just like this one. 

Others too, had gathered, and that made everything somehow worse. 

“Bonk, if you want to call me that—”

“He’s not your father,” Hollyhock said before Sundance could finish. “He’s in charge. In control. He owns you. The sooner you figure that out, the better.” 

A sour taste nestled on the back of Sundance’s tongue as he leveled his hardened gaze on Hollyhock. Bonk was frozen with confusion, and hurt made her eyes shimmer on the verge of tears, but Sundance didn’t see her. His eyes rested squarely upon Hollyhock, and they narrowed as his anger simmered into a low boil. Every muscle along his spine tensed, tightened, and his hackles rose while his lip curled back into a near-feral snarl. 

“I’m sorry”—Sundance did not recognise the sound of his own voice—“but just what is your problem?” 

“I don’t like them calling you ‘Daddy’, because it makes it sound as though we’re together. And we’re not.” 

Sundance gently pushed Bonk aside with his wing, and then advanced. 

“No… I think you misunderstand. What is your problem with me, and why should the little ones suffer from your attitude? Why do this? Right now of all times? This just seems so harmful. What have you got against me and why do the little ones have to suffer because of it?” 

“I don’t like that you’re in charge,” Hollyhock barked out. “You’re a bumbling idiot that just allows things to happen. Just some dumb guy from the city. What makes you so special? You and I, we’re not that different. There is absolutely nothing special about you for you to be in charge. You… you’re a nopony, just like me. Poor and stupid. By sheer dumb luck, you’re in charge, and that’s… that’s… galling! I hate how my life turned out while ponies like you catch all the lucky breaks! And I hate you!” 

“Look here, you dumb cunt, let’s sort out a few facts, shall we?” He saw her eyes widen with hurt, shock, and surprise, but it didn’t slow him down in the slightest. The worst parts of him wanted to see her suffer, and the sudden rush of adrenaline left him lightheaded. “What brought us here? Shall we discuss that? What brought us here? 

“I know what brought me here. Years of hard work and sacrifice. A project that I poured my life into. Hard work. Discipline. Dedication. Sacrifice. I took a paying job just so I could pursue my passion. I gave up everything to follow a dream, and that led me here, to this place. When I started, I had no idea that this was the end result. I wasn’t doing it for the reward, I did it so I would be a better pony, with a better understanding of history, who I was, and where I came from. 

“You on the other hoof… how did you get here?” She backed away now, her ears back, her tail low, and he advanced while looking down upon her. It was hard to speak now because of how his lips quivered. “You ended up here because you fronked—fucked anything that walked. You probably sat on every dick waved in your face and you whored yourself out. You had three foals from three different fathers. You didn’t make a living, you mooched. And rather than take responsibility for your life, you stole. By sheer dumb luck, you didn’t end up in prison, so I’d say that your luck is pretty damn good. It might just be luck that brought us both here, but one of us is here as a reward, while the other is here as punishment, you insufferable cunt!” 

When one tear fell, it wasn’t enough; he wanted more to fall, a flood. 

“Even worse, you fucked deadbeats, ponies just as irresponsible as you. Ponies that you knew would leave you. You played yourself as the victim and made excuses for the failures that you brought upon yourself. You fucked deadbeats and dragged your foals into your sad, sorry life. Amber just wanted a daddy, and she had a whole parade of them, didn’t she? How many times was her heart broken? How many one night stands did she see? How might all of that have messed her up? She just wanted a father… something you couldn’t steal. And now you’re resentful and bitter when she’s finally getting something that you can’t provide!” 

“Stop!” Hollyhock’s cracked voice was pleading. 

“You started it,” Sundance spat out. “The whole time you’ve been here, you’ve had this attitude towards me. All I’ve ever done is try to be nice to you. I’ve never tried to take advantage of you. Twilight Velvet wanted you here, instead of prison, and she wanted you to keep your foals. I accommodated this. I defended you and your behaviour from my mother of all ponies, because she thought you belonged in jail too. I had to disagree with my mother, and I didn’t much care for that. At all! It was awful! I don’t like disagreements, or confrontation, or fighting!” 

“Sundance, I think you’ve made your point. Ease off.”

“No, Corduroy, I don’t think he has,” Earwig said to Corduroy, who now stood in the doorway of the infirmary. “Milord, do you remember when Cucumber and I told you to go a-raiding? To find a midwife? Somepony to help this ungrateful wench?” 

“I do.” Sundance drew in a shuddering breath. 

“Well, right now, she’s smelling the smoke from the red hot poker. She does nothing but badmouth you and tear you down behind your back. I don’t know how many times my sister and I have told her to shut up. I’m sick of her lip, and so is everypony else. Always whining. Never working. Lazy little whore is what she is. Maybe the smoke isn’t enough, Milord… perhaps it’s time to brand her!” 

This snapped Sundance to his senses. “What?” 

“Brand that lazy cow!” 

Earwax looked every bit as surprised by her sister’s outburst as Sundance felt. 

“What? No. No! Nopony is getting branded. There will be no peasant abuse under my watch! No way. There will be no cruel punishments.” Sundance’s anger transitioned into confusion. “We have standards here and they will be upheld.” 

“See, you daft, lazy wench?” Earwig pushed her way forwards, her face calm, but her eyes furious. “His protection is more than you deserve. Right now, he had a perfectly good reason to punish you, and he won’t! You could be whipped… flogged… branded… all manner of awful things could happen, but he won’t do it. All he’s ever done is be nice to ya. He worried and fretted himself when you were sick. Went off and got help for you. He’s done right by you and you ain’t done a thing to be worthy of it.”

Earwax, having recovered herself, began to herd the little ones together and said, “Come along, you lot. We’ll go get breakfast. Come along. Don’t fuss. Don’t say no, either. Don’t give me trouble.” 

As Earwax led the little ones away, Earwig got her second wind. “You played with fire and got burned, you stupid girl. Got so accustomed to the Milord’s kindness that you forgot yer place. You poked and you prodded and you tested his patience. What’d it get ya? I know what it could have got ya. You dumb little bint, you mistook kindness for softness. Bet you won’t do that again, ye daft tart.” 

“You brought out the worst in him,” said Pinto Bean. “For shame.” 

Perhaps a little too late, Sundance remembered that it was his job to keep order. Hollyhock was cowering now, fearful, and even worse, she did so near him as the circle of angry peasants closed in around her. Every face was angry, and accusation seen in every eye. He didn’t feel proud of himself, not at all, and he was ashamed by his own anger. How had he let it come to this? The adrenaline made him jittery and he could both hear and feel the blood that pounded inside his ears. 

More in control of himself, but still hot with fury, Sundance turned to face Hollyhock once more. “You live here because I allow it. I’d rather you have a second chance. But if you cause another scene like this one… if you keep saying stuff behind my back… then I’ll go have a talk with Twilight Velvet and you… you will be leaving. I think you know where you’ll end up, so I won’t bother going into those details. The only comfort you’ll have is knowing that your foals will be looked after. I won’t make them pay for your mistakes.” 

Where but a moment before he took pleasure in her distress, he felt bad now. Awful, in fact. He’d failed in some awful way that he didn’t fully comprehend or understand. The metaphorical branding iron was held a little too close. All traces of defiance were gone now, replaced by terror. Sundance decided that he rather liked her defiance, because the cowering,  cringing mare before him did not suit him. 

“There’ll be no fighting about this,” Sundance said to the ponies around him. “Hollyhock is one of us—for now, at least. Give her a fair chance to do right and make right.” After blinking a few times, and collecting his thoughts, he looked down at Hollyhock but made no effort to dominate her as he’d done a few moments before. 

“Carefully count all of your second chances.” A long pause allowed his words to sink in. “Don’t force my hoof, Hollyhock. I won’t allow a repeat of today. I’ll not lose my head again. You will be sent away. I’d feel real bad for doing it, but make no mistake, I will do it. I have to do what is best for all who live here… including you.” 

He backed away, turned his head in his nurse’s direction, and said, “Corduroy, you’re in charge while I’m gone. See that the peace is kept. Don’t let anypony bully Holly, and see that she is given plenty of safe space to think about her actions. If I come home, and find there’s been trouble while I am away… I’m going to be in a piss-poor mood. Got me?” 

Stern-eyed, he glanced around and tried to read a few faces so that he could gauge their reaction. As far as he could tell, nopony was afraid of him—other than Hollyhock, of course—but there was a fair bit of anger. Not at him, near as he could tell. But the problem, it seemed, was worse than he knew. How long had it stewed in the background? 

“I must be going,” he said. “I have a meeting with the Princess of Friendship.” 
> The dance of the Dancers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance hated scenario cinema, where unpleasant events played out upon the silver screen of his mind in a non-stop loop, displaying endless variations of whatever awful thing that had just happened. All of the things he might have said differently, or done better, or how he might have handled a poor situation better—his brain showed him every conceivable possibility for how things might have played out if only he’d done this or that. 

Even worse, some of the scenarios made a bad situation even more terrible, as if that were somehow possible. Violence. Outright cruel acts. Forcing Hollyhock to submit—making her cry—somehow getting her to grovel. He didn’t know how to deal with the most awful aspects of himself; in fact, he was surprised by them, terrified that they even existed. Sundance could only imagine how some found these power fantasies appealing, but for he himself, he found them sickening. It was distressing how his brain concocted these revolting outcomes. 

Hardly flapping, Sundance flew in a general west-by-southwest direction. He didn’t fly dead south to find the railroad tracks, and then fly in a general westward direction, no. Once departed, he flew in a diagonal direction, because how hard would it be to miss Ponyville? Besides, this gave him a chance to see new territory and get eyes upon the lay of the land. All around him, the sky was empty, and he was alone. Nopony flew out this way, it seemed. The vast emptiness was intimidating, just mile after mile of endless blue that stretched in all directions, with a carpet of green laid out below. 

How could this land stay so empty for so long? Further to the west, the Unicorn Range was dotted with farms, settlements, and rural communities of all kinds. It was populated. But this land—this sky—all barren. The previous Milord forbade settlement, and so this devastated land remained empty. Sundance was but a tiny speck all alone in the blue, a troubled speck tormented by his own thoughts. Alone as he was, there was nopony to save him, nopony to talk to, so the awful, terrible, horrible thoughts continued, and there was nothing he could do about them. 

Was it possible for one to drown in sky?



 

Ponyville was a bustling city, more so than the last time he visited. A huge tent was erected at the edge of town, and Sundance wondered if some sort of circus or traveling show had stopped for a visit. But he wasn’t here for a circus, no. He was here to visit Princess Twilight, and maybe confess to her that he wasn’t leadership material. Maybe ask for some pointers, or how to gracefully bow out from his position, because this didn’t feel as though it would work out. 

Pegasus ponies flew in flocks above Ponyville, including what appeared to be a weather team. Little pegasus foals flew in formation, no doubt learning the rules of the sky. The sky was well populated here, and his fellow pegasus ponies waved at him—though he was slow to wave back, with his thoughts being what they were. From above, it was easy to see that Ponyville would soon run out of room. Swamp to the south, Everfree forest to the east, Whitetail Woods to the west, and the mighty Canterhorn to the north. Expansion would mean cutting into the woods or draining the swamp. 

Sundance was a pony blessed with an abundance of space, but had nothing to fill it.



 

Princess Twilight Sparkle’s Castle of Friendship looked different than the last time Sundance saw it, though he could not say how or why. It was hard not to look at it when visiting Ponyville, because it dominated everything. The thatched roofs and cosy cottages gave the city a certain charm, but the ginormous crystal castle disrupted all of that in some way. It was there, it existed, and did so with no regard for town planning or beautification. 

Sundance stood at the bottom of the steps, looking upwards, and he hesitated. Why did he hesitate? He didn’t feel much like a baron at the moment, and Twilight had summoned a baron. The stairs seemed too long, too tall, and Sundance felt too small to mount them. While he stood there, procrastinating, one of the statues turned its head to look at him. Sundance could feel the statue’s eyes upon him—yes, this statue watched him somehow with lifeless stone eyes. 

Word had it that Princess Twilight had no standing guard, and had no need of a guard regiment. Sundance wondered how a fight with a stone pony statue might go. Twenty-four of them guarded the stairs, a dozen on each side. Stone alicorns stood at the bottom of the stairs, and Sundance wondered if they could cast magic somehow. Twilight was a clever pony, and the Alicorn of Magic. If she wanted stone alicorn statues that could cast spells, surely, she could have them. She probably had no fear of spider season. 

The princess could command statues, while he was stuck begging owls for help. 

“Are you troubled, supplicant?” one of the stone alicorns asked. 

“Yeah,” Sundance found himself replying. “I am. Had a rough morning.” 

“Hmm,” the stone alicorn hmmed in a most equine fashion. “Might I suggest that you find a friend. If no friend can be found, please, enter the castle. A friend will be provided.” 

“Actually, I’m here on business.” Sundance felt a little peculiar chit-chatting with a statue, but here he was. “How was your morning, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“The pigeons flew close,” the statue replied. “Too close for comfort. I was forced to issue a stern warning, and told them that I would reduce them to their constituent atoms if they attempted to use me as a toilet. The winged menace grows braver. They do not remember the last public demonstration.” 

Sundance felt his eyebrows contract and his scalp grew tight. Poor pigeons. What might Fluttershy say about this? How would she feel? Or the citizens, for that matter? He reconsidered, and was thoughtful. Maybe that was normal here. Maybe a statue with the powers of disintegration was perfectly normal and nopony batted an eye during a ‘public demonstration.’ Ponyville was a weird place—possibly the weirdest in Equestria—and Sundance began to wonder what it might take to shock these ponies. 

Another statue turned to examine him, and Sundance wondered if the stone sentinels suffered from boredom. The life of a statue. Did ponies such as himself strike up conversations with these guardians? Surely, they must. These statues could talk, they could be helpful, and seemed to have some limited ability to reason. Princess Celestia certainly didn’t have an army of talking statues… or maybe she did and Sundance just didn’t know about them. 

“What’s it like, being a statue?” asked Sundance. “Do you ever get bored?” 

“If we get bored,” one of the stone sentinels replied, “our Creator has us function as substitute teachers for a time. Then we long for the peace and quiet that comes with guarding the stairs. Never ask for excitement, lest one gets exactly what they ask for.” 

“Indeed,” another statue said. “Students. Harrumph. Graffiti scribbling hooligans.” 

Sundance could sense all manner of questions about the nature of life forming within his mind, potentially dangerous questions about existence and what life was, exactly. It was time to take his leave before he discussed his existential crisis with the stone sentinels—though he was certain that they would most certainly be excellent conversationalists. If they could teach a classroom full of foals, surely they could entertain his questions about the nature of life. 

“I, uh, should be going. I am expected. It was nice talking to you. Good day.” 



 

Upon passing through the doors of the castle, Sundance found himself in some well-appointed waiting room. How did he get here? That was unknown. Teleportation, perhaps. It was quite unsettling, to be in one place and then to suddenly find oneself in another. He was alone, though the waiting room had a dozen chairs. Magazine racks stocked with Friendship Weekly offered entertainment, and there were pamphlets and brochures aplenty. 

There was a door, just one door, and it had no doorknob. Sundance found it hard to look at, and when he did so, his vision fuzzed over, which forced him to turn away. Well, the door was impossibly boring anyhow, and there was no point in looking at a door that had no doorknob. But, it was the only door out of this room. Sundance decided to ignore the door and to examine the many pamphlets and brochures. 

The Confusing Friendship Dynamics of Gender caught his eye, but he didn’t bother to pick it up and examine it. It had a filly and a colt on the front cover, an adorable illustrative explanation of the contents of the pamphlet. The colt had stink lines wafting off of him, and the filly had big bugs—cooties, no doubt. Because colts were smelly and fillies had cooties. Quite without warning, Sundance felt a pang of nostalgia for his foalhood. 

Friendship Without Pause For Friends Who Have Paws was the next pamphlet that he noticed, and the cover immediately caused him to experience a flood of emotions. An earth pony and a diamond dog stood together in a rainstorm, and the diamond dog held an umbrella over the earth pony. Such feeling from such a simple illustration. He thought of Corduroy, and then his nostrils detected the phantom odour of wet dog. 

Friendship With Foals: It’s Not Weird. Sundance saw that it was written by Rainbow Dash, whose name dominated the space below the title. There was a photograph of Rainbow Dash and some other smaller pegasus filly with stubby, stunted wings. Something about the picture was quite touching, and one could almost see the friendship between the two. 

Great & Powerful Friendships With the Mentally Ill: A Practical Guide by Trixie Lulamoon. Sundance checked out the cover and saw a picture of three mares all smooshed together in a group hug. It was touching, impactful, and made him aware that this was an issue that he’d never given much thought about. He was tempted to read it, but didn’t. 

Then, with Paradox on his mind, Sundance snatched a copy of The Confusing Friendship Dynamics of Gender and promptly stuffed it into his saddlebags. Then he rubbed his right ear with his right wing, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, he should take the pamphlet about mental illness. Some of his residents had issues… like Hollyhock. And Paradox. Before he could talk himself out of it, he took a copy of Great & Powerful Friendships With the Mentally Ill: A Practical Guide by Trixie Lulamoon and it too was hastilly placed into his saddlebags. 

The door opened and Sundance reacted like a foal with a stolen cookie jar. Why? Clearly, the literature was meant to be taken. A mare entered the room, a frumpy mare with an oversized sweater, and huge square glasses. He felt an immediate attraction for her, which was odd, really odd, because she was a scrawny bookworm. Yet, the curious attraction persisted, and Sundance was annoyed about it, because it showcased yet again that he knew nothing about himself. This mare was older and everything about her could be considered the exact opposite of conventional beauty standards—yet he felt the undeniable stirrings of physical arousal. 

Life was confusing and made no sense. 

Her magnificent monobrow crinkled as she introduced herself. “My name is Moondancer. You’re Sundance. We both dance upon different celestial bodies and—oh my sweet rubber library stamp, you smell bad. Whew. Alright, we can fix that. Blargh… please, come along with me for processing.” 

“Processing?” he asked. 

“Yes, you must be processed and undergo destinkification before you can meet with Twilight.” Moondancer’s eyes watered behind her thick, square glasses. “How, how is it that you’ve managed to cultivate such a magnificent stench? I am genuinely impressed. It makes me recall the Great Stinkening that happened here in Ponyville. What a day. What a glorious day.” 

Moondancer moved closer, her woollen sweater rustled and crackled with static electricity. Sundance wrestled with attraction to her, the attraction that made no sense to him, and when she drew close, he tried to keep himself from squirming. Quite without warning, she pressed her moist, warm nose against his neck, and inhaled. This sent shivery tingles down his spine, and his left hind hoof thumped against the floor. 

“I’m a skunk fancier.” Her words were warm and damp against his neck. “Things that smell bad draw my interest.” Sundance felt her nose slide along his neck and when she sniffed him again, he feared he might lose control of himself. “What a righteous reek you have. Fascinating.” 

“Yeah,” he squeaked through strained vocal cords stretched tight with tension. 

She pulled away, inhaled, and said, “Do not be afraid. The pitch and tone of your voice suggest intense fear. Processing is but a minor inconvenience. Follow me.” 
> The things that end up on record
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Processing?” asked Sundance as he was led into what appeared to be a mad scientist’s lair. There were machines here, odd contraptions that he couldn’t recognise, and the walls were covered in curious crystalline growths that pulsed with unnatural light that made his eyes ache. “Processed into what?” 

“Twilight’s safety must be ensured,” was Moondancer’s clinical response. 

“I assure you, I’m harmless. Well, except for maybe how I smell.” 

“We’ll see.” Moondancer’s voice was a cool, emotionless deadpan. “First, you get to have your picture taken.” 

“My picture?” That didn’t sound so bad, and Sundance was somewhat relieved. “Still a little concerned about this processing, uh, thing.” 

“Thaumatography.” Moondancer whirled around suddenly, without warning, and now stood nose to nose with Sundance. “Vinyl Scratch and Sumac Apple invented several new types of cameras. One of them allows us to photograph magical fields and emminations. Spectral dweomer thaumatography allows us to see spells, illusions, illusory cloaks, fields of alterations, polymorphs, metamorphs, polymimetic surface alterations—” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Sundance said. “Tomatography?” 

“It means,” she said with great care while ignoring his quip, “that no matter what you look like on the outside, we can see what you look like on the inside. If you are a changeling, or a mimic, we’ll be able to see past your illusions, no matter how sophisticated and well-protected.” 

“Is this whole processing thing really necessary?” he asked. “I didn’t come to be processed.” 

“It is very necessary.” Moondancer’s monobrow formed a relaxed V; it rather looked like the colony of coarse hairs all decided to head south like a flock of migratory swallows who packed their coconuts for a trip to some distant far-off tropical beach. 

“Are you going to, uh, probe me?” asked Sundance. 

Moondancer, her head tilted off to the left, paused to consider this question. “Do I look like some dreadful space alien from a Luna’s Day matinée science fiction double feature?” 

Squirming, Sundance wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this nightmare scenario. “Maybe just a little?” 

“Do you want me to probe you?” Her monobrow V formed a somewhat sharper angle above her oversized, chunky glasses. 

Before Sundance could think about his answer, his mouth betrayed him: “Yeah. Maybe. Kind of.” 

“And ponies say that I am socially maladjusted and have trouble connecting with my fellow equines.” Her expression became rather deadpan, though her monobrow remained on fierce alert. “Look… you must be processed. We have to check for anomalies. Magical talents that warp or otherwise distort local reality in some way. These sorts of talents are distressingly common and subtly powerful. Twilight has encountered them before, and she makes every conceivable effort to avoid making the same mistake twice.” 

“Also,” she added with a sniff, “you’re not just a pervert, but you’re a smelly pervert. That’s going down in your file.” 

“Oh.” Sundance restrained his reaction and withheld his need to express his regrets. When he got home, he was going to tell River Raider that he was a smelly pervert, and that it was now on his permanent record. Why? He didn’t know why, but he hoped that maybe it would temper her opinion of his sickening, disgusting goodness. Who longed to be a naughty pervert? Sundance, that’s who. 

“Once, a long time ago, Twilight encountered a pony whose magical talent influenced her behaviour. It altered her decision-making and caused her to do things that she would later come to regret. She failed to learn from this though, and it happened again. Now, she is proactive with her protections, which is why we check for anomalies.” 

“What happened?” Sundance found himself wanting to know. Needing to know, perhaps. This was intriguing. 

“Go and sit down in front of the reflector screen right over there, and I’ll tell you,” she replied. “Sit on the stool. Go on. Cooperate.” 

“Is this… is this going to fry my gonads? Like an X-ray? Should I cover my bits with a lead apron or something?” 

“You know, we haven’t actually checked for that. I’ll fill out some paperwork after we’re finished.” Left front hoof raised, she gestured at the stool whilst she levitated a bizarre camera off of the table. “Go sit down, please.” 

“But my gonads—” 

“Can be scientifically observed after the fact. Twilight pays well if you participate in a study.” Again, Moondancer gestured with her hoof. “Go and rest your gonads upon that stool.” 

Cursing his submissive nature, Sundance dutifully sat down upon the stool, and then shifted his body around, unsure of how to protect his future foals from whatever was about to happen next. Moondancer powered on the camera; it whined, buzzed for a few seconds, and a red light flashed once. She held it up, patient, and cast a sidelong glance at the curious camera. 

“Twilight once banished a pony from Ponyville. She did so under magical duress, without knowing that her behaviour was influenced. Another pony’s talent held influence over her ability to make decisions. Later, things got sorted out, and Twilight pieced together what had happened. Of course, she apologised, and she made things right, but she failed to learn her lesson. Eventually, she would be exposed to grift magic, which is charismatic in nature and influencing. She failed to take proper measures, and was again influenced by passive magic. Inveigled, perhaps? That might be a better, more accurate term? I don’t know. Could be wrong.” 

The red light flashed again, and this drew a resigned sigh from Moondancer, who waited. 

“As far as I know, I don’t have a magic talent,” Sundance said whilst he crossed his hind legs tight together with the hopes that his thighs could somehow protect him. “Though I did recently learn that I could discharge lightning.” 

“Oh… that’s going down in your file. Twilight is well-defended against the electricity, but it never hurts to be careful. Random discharges cause unexpected consequences.” 

“I would never hurt Twilight—” 

“You would if you were mind-controlled, or geased.” 

“But I—what?” 

“This is why we process you. Twilight had an assassin attempt to kill her in her study. It was somepony she knew. She was able to break the mind-compulsion spell and save her friend. Still, it was quite traumatic.” Moondancer gently shook the camera, and then snorted. “It’s taking its sweet time to warm up today.” 

This was an awful lot to take in. Somepony, a friend, tried to kill Twilight. In her own study, no less. Slowly his mind began to grasp the necessity for all of this—whatever all of this was—and he resigned himself to being poked and prodded. It was logical, sensible, and it allowed him to spend time with this weirdly attractive mare. Physically, she wasn’t his type—but something deep within him told him that she could thoroughly dominate him if she so pleased—which was quite a thrilling prospect. He would be utterly powerless against her magical onslaughts… not that he would resist. 

Magical strength was still strength, and this mare radiated scary raw power. 

The camera emitted a green flash, and Moondancer said, “Cover your thunderballs, I’m about to take your picture.” 



 

Sundance and his gonads couldn’t tell what effect the camera had on them, other than they felt peculiar. He’d sneezed several times due to the stench of ozone, and was now lightheaded during his period of recovery. Moondancer cast an annoyed glance at the camera, which now flashed a red light once again, and Sundance guessed that more pictures would be taken. 

He glanced over at his saddlebags, which rested on a nearby table, and then had himself a look around the room. Nothing was recognisable to him, with the exception of the camera and the furniture. Strange machines stood near the walls. Some contraption hung from the ceiling above him. The floor had shiny metal plates that glowed with an electric blue light. 

“Tarnished Teapot was the pony that Twilight banished,” Moondancer said whilst she patiently waited for the camera to finish charging. “They are good friends now. Close. She trusts him a great deal, and he is one of her confidants. Just like I am. Though sometimes I don’t know why I am. Twilight and Tarnish just got back from killing a lich. It’s a bad, bad day when Twilight, Tarnish, and Dim show up at your evil lair. Tarnish’s unique talent allows him to destroy phylacteries without consequences. Most ponies would die from the resulting explosion of negative energy, but not Tarnish.” 

Then, quite out of the blue, she added, “There are times when I rather want to become a lich, just to see what it is like, but that would mean living in fear of those three arriving at my hidden lair of unspeakable evil, and that’s just a bad scene waiting to happen. Sometimes I wonder if I could kill a lich. I think I could. Maybe one of the weaker ones. Not sure how I’d handle the phylactery though. Princess Celestia told me that she teleports them into the sun to safely dispose of them, because the blast could destroy her, but I lack the means to teleport stuff into the sun, which saddens me. Things that threaten Twilight and my friends would find themselves quite warm.” 

“Do you have a lot of friends?” asked Sundance. 

“Foals, mostly,” she replied, sighing out each word. “For some reason, I don’t get along too well with most adults. I suffer from social ineptitude. My therapist told me that I’m not good at picking up on social cues. But this is an advantage in my job.” 

“It is?” 

“Very much so. Right now, you are undoubtedly uncomfortable, and I simply do not care. This affords me a certain sense of pragmatism; I can do things that make you uncomfortable and I am not overly bothered by however it is you are feeling about the invasion of your privacy.” 

“That is an advantage,” he said to her to be agreeable, although he wasn’t sure how he actually felt about it. She would make for a dangerous dominatrix, the kind that did not abide safewords. Something hidden deep within his innards turned cold and caused him to shiver. The probing might even persist after he begged for it to stop. Just what sort of dreadful sexual fantasy was this, and why did he find it appealing? 

“That’s nice of you to say.” She started to say more, but the light on the camera flashed green. Her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, and then her head bobbed with satisfaction. “Say congealed lactate extract of hoofed quadrupeds.” 

Sundance’s confused expression was frozen forever in time when the camera went off… 



 

“Sunburst, are you there?” Moondancer spoke into a small mirror with an agate handle. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yes, Moondancer, I can hear you,” a voice from within the mirror said. 

“Are you ready to begin the procedure?” she asked, her lips mere inches away from the now darkened surface of the mirror that no longer showed her reflection. 

“Yes, do begin. Starlight will maintain the portal. Nurse Starchy is ready.” 

“Ah, good. Starlight is wonderful at maintaining the portal. A sudden, unexpected closure would cause quite a situation. Heh-hoo-hoo-heh.” Moondancer chuckled for a time—an ominous sound—and set the mirror into an intricately carved wooden holder on the table before her. “Before we start, Sunburst, I wanted to apologise for walking in on you mid-marital coitus with Starlight—” 

“Oh, that’s fine, no need to apologise for—” 

“I probably should have left,” Moondancer said, oblivious to the distress in the voice that came from the mirror. “But since you ceased your vigorous thrusting after I barged in, I thought that you were ready to discuss our findings.” 

Sundance heard a soft sigh from the mirror. 

Then, much to his surprise, he heard a muffled feminine giggle. 

Two glowing crystal pylons began to crackle, and then an indigo haze blazed around them. The nostril-tickling stench of ozone grew strong, and a pinprick of vibrant light appeared between the pair of pylons. Sundance watched, curious, and wondered just what it was that he saw, because he’d never seen anything quite like it. As the blob of light intensified, he felt a tug on his body, some unseen force gently pulled on him, and the light strands of his mane floated towards the portal’s direction, as did Moondancer’s. 

“Now, this is a portal,” Moondancer began, “and you’ll be putting your foreleg into it so samples can be taken—” 

“Say again?” Now alarmed, Sundance squirmed on his stool and wondered how he might wiggle his way out of this situation—which didn’t seem likely. 

After a sigh of resignation, Moondancer tried again. “Now, this is a portal, and you’ll be putting your foreleg into it so samples can be taken. Nurse Starchy will prick your frog for blood, and a sliver of your hoof will be extracted.” 

“Portal?” His stomach turned clammy with sudden sweat and Sundance wiped himself with his right foreleg. “What if it closes suddenly?” 

“As luck would have it, your foreleg would be in the Crystal Empire, where it could receive the very best medical attention. All of the best doctors to be found on this continent are up there—” 

“What about the rest of me?” asked Sundance. 

“From what I understand, Ponyville General makes you sign papers that nullifies your right to file malpractice—” 

“Woah, wait now, I’m not so sure about this. You want me to stick my leg into a portal that stretches all the way to the Crystal Empire?” 

Nodding vigorously, Moondancer gestured at the glowing blob of light between the two crystal pylons. “It tickles a bit, so try to hold still. Nurse Starchy is a real go-getter when it comes to blood, so that might sting a bit. She’s practical, Nurse Starchy. Better to get too much blood than too little blood.” 

“Had I known about all of this, I might not have come.” 

“Oh, we would make you come.” Moondancer’s tone turned dangerous; cold and unpleasant to the nth degree. “Had you not shown up, you still would have found yourself in the waiting room. Surely Booker told you that.” 

“Now that you bring that up, he did mention something about that…” As his frozen intestines slithered against one another in gut-wrenching terror, Sundance had a reminder of his power over others. It was just the sort of reminder that he needed; he had power over Hollyhock—considerable power—just as Twilight Sparkle had absolute authority over him. Surely there was some kind of lesson to be learned here, but right now, as of this minute, however important it might be, Sundance wasn’t sure what it was. 

“Now, if you would… please, rise from your stool, go over there, and place one of your forelegs into the portal. Nature thoughtfully provided us with a backup in the event that something goes wrong.” 

“Oh, I’m about to leave my stool behind, alright.” 

The feminine giggle could be heard from the mirror once again, while Moondancer’s expression remained stony and resolute. Sundance, realising that he had no choice, no options, no way to escape this unpleasant plight, rose from his stool. He spent a moment shaking each leg, he stretched a bit, and then wondered if he had time to say goodbye. Which leg would he sacrifice? One of his legs had to go into the portal. With his thoughts on Holly, and also on the little ones in their shared care, Sundance decided it was time to do what needed done. 

“Go on,” Moondancer instructed with a wave of her foreleg. 

Teeth clenched, lips pressed tight together, Sundance raised his left foreleg, waved it about whilst he made his silent farewell, and then he jammed it into the glowy nexus of light. Right away, he wished he hadn’t, because everything felt weird—real weird. Unspeakably, inexplicably weird. His brain began screaming that something was horribly wrong, but his brain was a primitive, rather stupid organ that could not possibly understand the complex realities of portals that brought two vast distances together. 

“My leg doesn’t feel right,” Sundance whined. 

“Right now, your leg is infinitely long,” Moondancer said with an absolute lack of reassurance. “The actual length cannot be measured, due to a variety of factors at play. We’re not even certain just how many layers of reality we’ve burrowed through to create the portal. Twilight created the anchor points, and she insists that it is perfectly safe. All we can do is take her at her word.” 

“Might I ask a question?” 

“I believe you just did, Sundance.” 

“What would happen if I were to put my winky through the portal?” 

While these words existed in the air, Moondancer’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Just a moment ago you balked at the very idea of putting your leg in there. Now, you want to want to put that in there.” 

“Just, uh, um… like in theory. What would happen in theory?” 

“Why would you want to do that?” asked Moondancer. 

“Because,” he replied, emboldened and somewhat stupid. “I’d rather like to say that I’ve had an infinitely long winky without lying. Might be a great way to break the ice. Meet girls. Impress others in conversation. With all the magical means to detect lies, and those who could read minds, they would know I told the truth, and that would be impressive.” 

“Deviant.” Moondancer spoke with a cold, clinical tone that lacked any sort of warmth. “That’s going in your file.” 

“Whatever comes though the portal, I’m getting blood from it,” a different feminine voice said from the nearby mirror. “I’m not picky.” 

Sundance felt a curious sensation, as if his hoof were squeezed, and there was great pressure upon it. After it was immobilised, he felt a soft scraping—it was no worse than his usual hoof maintenance—but he worried about the prick that was sure to come. Everything felt so far away, perhaps because it was so far away. The Crystal Empire was a far-off place, but the distance was longer than he could understand due to portal complexities. 

The camera beeped, and Sundance let go a startled whinny, but thankfully he did not jerk his leg back through the portal. Moondancer pulled something out of the camera, something shiny and smelly, something that made Sundance’s eyes water. With a casual flick, she sent the object through the portal, and he tried not to think about how his leg was in there. Ears pricked, he could hear the sounds of hoof-scraping, and wondered how long it took for the sound to reach him. The very complexity of this thought caused his stomach to drop, and he felt increasingly stupid. 

A sudden, unexpected jab to his frog made him yelp, but the pain was quick to go away. 

“Once we’re done here, Sunburst will use divination to know all there is to know about your mark, and any magical talents you have will be discerned. Once he has done that, you will go into the brain-washer, which is a special type of shower we’ve developed that will scrub your mind of outside influence, compulsion spells, and geases, should you be affected. It is remarkably pleasant, the brain-washer, and I occasionally use it to clear my thoughts when my brain feels cluttered.” Moondancer adjusted her glasses, lifted her mane away from her face, and then she almost—but not quite—smiled. 

“Um, if you don’t mind”—Sunburst’s voice had a curious echoing quality to it—“we’re going to need a feather, too. I understand it hurts, and I am very sorry. Moondancer, could you please pluck a live feather with blood and send it through the portal?” 

“I can,” Moondancer replied. “Sundance, do you wish to volunteer a feather, or will we go about this the hard way?” 



 

With a sting in his wing and a throb in his frog, Sundance waited patiently. It was all he could do at the moment. A part of him wanted to try and flirt with Moondancer, but he knew that right now was not an appropriate time. He didn’t know why he felt so flirty and brave, but he did, and he rather enjoyed his newfound confidence. His terror was subsiding a bit, though he felt a little peculiar because Moondancer held up the magic mirror mere inches away from his cutie mark. 

At least his leg was no longer in the portal. A patch of hair had been shaved off from just above his fetlock, his hoof was trimmed, and blood extracted from his frog. It wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him, and he would endure. This was, for all intents and purposes, bureaucracy, and Sundance could endure bureaucratic processes like nopony else he knew. 

“This mark doesn’t match anything else in the registry,” Sunburst said from the mirror. “It is wholly unique. There are lots of sunflower marks… thousands of them on file, but nothing quite like this one. The mark represents both land and storm, with connections to both. It isn’t often that a pegasus has a mark that directly connects them to land. Geo-focused marks are rare for pegasus ponies, but not unheard of.” 

“So do we have anything yet?” asked Moondancer. 

“The diviner is still divining,” a feminine voice said from within the mirror. 

“That much is obvious, Starlight.” Moondancer tapped her right hind hoof against the floor and continued to hold up the mirror close to Sundance’s backside. 

“The sunflower is a connection to the sun, of course. A bridge between land and sun. The means by which the sun transfers energy to the ground, with the sunflower functioning as a go-between. If the mark was just a sunflower alone, this would be so much easier. But the stormcloud complicates things considerably. Something is actively trying to thwart my ability to read these symbols.”

“Huh?” Sundance turned his head around and saw a pony squinting in the mirror. 

“Magic doesn’t like to be studied,” said Moondancer. “The more complicated the magic is, the more it resists. Complex magic has complex means to mess with our efforts to figure things out.” Eyes narrowed, monobrow furrowed, she shook her head. “My own mark has an unknown element to it that nopony can discern. My talent is magic and a component of that happens to be enhanced cerebral functions to study said magic, but there is an as-of-yet unknown element that resists identification.”

“I don’t know if I want to know the meaning of my mark,” Sundance said to whomever might be listening. “Won’t that spoil the mystery? I mean, it might be nice to know, and a part of me does kind of want to know, but that kills all the joy in thinking about it and what it might be.” 

“You don’t have to know,” Moondancer said to Sundance. “But we do. We don’t have to tell you if you wish to preserve the mystery.” 

“But, if I do have a talent, I think I’d like to know about that.” Sundance considered his words for a time, wondered if he meant them, and pondered if he should retract them. Did he really wish to know? Would it better to somehow discover it on his own? This made him reconsider his position about knowing what his mark meant. Maybe he needed to know—it might make him a better baron if he understood himself. How might others benefit from his increased understanding? 

He concluded that he had no idea what the right thing to do happened to be. 

“Oh, Sunburst seems to have gone into a daze. Give us a moment.” 

“Sure thing, Starlight. See if you can get him sorted out.” Moondancer didn’t seem particularly worried, and she kept the magic mirror held mere inches away from Sundance’s mark. With nothing to do, she began to hum, but it wasn’t exactly musical. 

Sundance also waited, and his ears pricked at the sound of Moondancer humming. There could be no denying it, he was attracted to her, though the degree of attraction varied. She was at her most attractive when she was scary—it became a purely physical attraction at this point—yet there was something to be said about her mind, which he also found appealing in a way that couldn’t be put into words. Her intellect was stunning, even if she just so happened to be one of the proverbial mad scientist types. The fact that she was older only added to her appeal, though he couldn’t say why. 

“You have a scar.” The tone and pitch of her voice changed and Moondancer now sounded vulnerable. “I have scars… I was captured by changelings and tortured. It changed me. My scars are a text of sorts that catalogue these changes. I am no longer what I once was. For the longest time, I thought I was broken. Maybe I still am. But now that I have endured the worst, I know what I am capable of. It has made me capable of protecting my friends. I can endure what they cannot.” 

Sundance’s head swiveled around completely, and he looked the disturbed mare in the eye. She trembled, her ears quivered, and with each quick, shallow breath she took, her nostrils contracted and flared. He watched as she fidgeted within her oversized sweater, and he wondered what he might see if he looked beneath. There were different degrees of nakedness, he’d discovered. 

“I can’t let what happened to me happen to them,” she said in cold deadpan. 

“Hang on, we have some results. Sunburst needs a moment to recover. Give us a moment, I’m going to get a cup of tea into Sunburst. He’s a little out of sorts.” 
> A life sentence
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something profound had changed for Sundance, though he could not say how or why. The very idea that he might know his purpose filled him with equal measures of hope and dread. Hope for all of the obvious reasons, and dread for reasons unknown. A part of him wanted to know, but he was also terrified to find out. Would the great mystery be spoiled by knowing? There was something to be said for clarity of purpose; cutie marks were too nebulous and sometimes lacked a clear, easy to understand meaning. 

Perhaps knowing might make him a better caretaker, a more capable guardian, a baron well-suited for the immense undertaking that was his job. He’d rather failed at his job this morning, though the failure had been a long time coming. For too long, the issues with Hollyhock had festered, and he knew why. His submissive nature avoided confrontation. She’d said some things—things she might even be right about—and he’d said some things that he hoped he was wrong about. 

Moondancer certainly didn’t seem afraid of confrontation, or causing him to be uncomfortable. In a way, he admired her and her work ethic. It wasn’t that she was aggressive, or even mean-spirited, she just did her job with a cold, detached pragmatism that he wished he had just a smidgeon of for himself. Oh, not too much. His job demanded that he deal well with ponies and other creatures. But Hollyhock had a point, a horrible, awful, cringe-inducing point: he was a bumbling idiot that just allowed things to happen. He was the yes-pony, and this was a selling point, a desirable feature. Twilight Velvet had expected a yes-pony because Princess Celestia had described him as such. 

Moondancer didn’t strike him as a yes-pony, and he rather liked her because of that. 

“I am Sunburst,” the unicorn in the mirror said. “I am the brilliant flash of inspiration that illuminates the unknown. Dim, my friend, calls me the Sage of Ages. It has taken me a long, long time to feel worthy of my position and the command that I have. Everypony, even Princess Celestia herself, tells me that I am powerful, yet I have so little in the way of magic skill. All of this is relevant to what I am about to say. 

“It is of the utmost importance that you trust me and my divinations. This… this is what I do well. I am a light that shines upon dark unknowns. For whatever reason, I can read the pictograms that are cutie marks. Fate has blessed me with the ability to discern their meaning, their reason, and even some of their hidden nuances. This might be hard for you to accept, and I understand. You have no reason to fear, I will not be offended if you disagree with my prognostications. Not everypony agrees with what I have to say. Keep in mind, I have yet to be proven wrong.” 

“He’s brilliant and very good at what he does. The Sage Supreme—” 

“Starlight, please, this is hard for me to assert myself.” 

“Sorry, Honeyboops.” 

Moondancer shook her head, snorted, and rolled her eyes all at once. Then, she salvaged the situation with a commanding interjection: “Sunburst is the absolute best at what he does, and might very well be one of the most powerful unicorns in all of Equestria. He’s not trying to con you, and he does not benefit from what he tells you. It’s fine to be doubtful, that’s expected, but for you to dismiss what he has to say would be foolishness of the worst kind.” 

For fear of saying something the wrong way, Sundance nodded, and did his best to look attentive. How did one appear to have an open mind? Was there an expression for that? If so, he wasn’t sure that he’d encountered it. Sunburst was brilliant, but had trouble tooting his own horn. Perfectly understandable. Sundance wasn’t brilliant—not by a longshot—but he could accept that others thought him wise. 

“Honeyboops?” On the other side of the mirror, Sunburst now seemed distracted. 

“Shmoopy-Wookums?” 

“Revolting,” Moondancer deadpanned with a contemptuous eyeroll that was of legend. 

“I can’t help it. Something about the Crystal Empire… it does something to my brain.” 

With an audible clearing of his throat, Sunburst returned to the discussion. “It shouldn’t even be a surprise, really. As one of Princess Celestia’s descendents, this should have been expected, even though it is a rare purpose to have. Now, mind you, this is your purpose… not your magic talent. We’ll discuss that in a moment. But for now, we’ll focus on this. Are you ready to know your purpose, Sundance? The reason why you exist?” 

When under intense pressure, such as right now, Sundance’s mind did what it did best: it went blank. An eerie calm settled over him; whatever fear and insecurity he experienced faded away. All of his doubts, his reservations, they were fleeting thoughts that had no power over him. Some ponies spent the whole of their lives trying to sort out why they existed, and he was about to be told, plainly and clearly. One eyebrow arched and resembled something that was almost wisdom. He nodded, then waited, for this would surely change his life. 

“Sundance”—Sunburst’s voice was gentle, but also stern—“your purpose is life.”

The wheels in Sundance’s head ceased to turn quite suddenly. He blinked once, twice, thrice, but the wheels ground to a halt, the sort of halt that suggested that they may never turn again. His ears sagged, and Sundance found that his answer was no answer at all. In fact, he only had more questions now. This was pretty much the worst possible thing that could happen: to know one’s purpose but have no idea what it meant. Life? What did that mean, exactly? 

“What?” 

In the mirror, Sunburst smiled, but also appeared uncertain. “Your mark is a pictogram of an ecosystem. Ground, growth, and sky. Earth, plants, and rain. It is a visual representation of life, the very purpose that you serve. Princess Celestia’s purpose is also life. That is her reason for existence. She continues the existence of life, and you, that is also your purpose. Families, bloodlines, they often have a shared purpose that passes along through the generations.” 

“What?” Sundance raised a hoof like a student trying to get his teacher’s attention, and he repeated himself. “What?” 

“That’s not much of a question,” Sunburst said. 

“What is the meaning of life?” asked Sundance. 

“Well, that’s something I still haven’t figured out,” Sunburst replied. 

“No…” Sundance sucked in a huge breath. “What do you mean by life? What does that mean? How is that a purpose?” 

“Oh, I have no idea.” In the mirror, the tiny image of Sunburst waved his forelegs around. “You steward life. You bring life to others. By virtue of your existence, you ensure the existence of others. Princess Celestia’s continued existence allows for all of life to flourish on this planet. Though her purpose is of a much higher degree than yours, obviously. There are various potencies to purpose. Yours is minor… but meaningful.” 

“Think of it as capitalised Life versus lower-case life,” Starlight said in her most helpful manner. “There is still value in lower-case purpose.” 

“How do I fulfil my function?” asked Sundance. “Just how is it that I go about doing whatever it is that I do… that my… my… purpose compels me to do?” He found himself floundering, and the more he tried to inquire about it, the more questions he had. Too late, he realised that his answer was a curse. He was cursed with purpose. Punished with purpose. 

This was why it was better to never ask questions or to do too much thinking. 

Moondancer spoke quite suddenly: “Life without purpose is meaningless, at least in my estimation. Give others life… with purpose. What have you done since you were appointed to your position? Look for a pattern. Do you see anything that repeats? A string of similar events that all share a common theme? The point of your existence is to give life to others… and perhaps purpose as well. Think, Sundance. Don’t be overwhelmed by all of this. Break it all down and examine the little details.” 

“Far back in history, Princess Celestia posed as a fertility goddess. That’s one thing you could do with life as your purpose.” 

“Starlight Glimmer… I can’t even—” 

“I’m not wrong, Honeyboops. With a life-oriented purpose, he could offer his services as a stud. Lots of mares need a donor—” 

“Starlight Glimmer! Would you please get your mind out of the gutter.” 

“I am trying to think of practical things, Shmoopy-Foo-Foo.” 

Cheeks on fire, Sundance couldn’t help but think of Starlight’s suggestion. He glanced over at Moondancer, his tongue poked the dry corner of his mouth, and all of his hopes crashed into cold, hard reality. He barely understood how to even talk to mares, much less offer his services as a stud. No, that clearly wasn’t his purpose, at least not now. Maybe later. Maybe never. 

Quite without meaning to do so, he thought of the females in his life. All of them, but some more than others. Due to his actions, Corduroy had a life. A purpose. She had meaning. Paradox now lived her dream—quite a thing to do for one so young. She was a wizard, and had a life filled with purpose. Earwig and Earwax still had one another, a life shared together, a bond that he couldn’t understand, but still appreciated. 

And then there was Hollyhock. 

Much could be said about Hollyhock. 

Not only did she have a life, but she had a second chance at life. 

Sundance found himself wondering just what that meant, and how it might apply to Princess Celestia. 

Mercy took on new meaning, and as the raging fire in his cheeks cooled, Sundance picked over the little details of his own life. He thought of his genealogy project, which was more or less a study of lives lived—the connections of life and those who lived them. His brows furrowed and deep creases appeared on his forehead, just below the forelock of his mane. Yes, it certainly felt as though there was a pattern now that he had the perfect vision offered by hindsight. 

“Now”—Sunburst cleared his throat in the Crystal Empire and Sundance heard it in Ponyville through the magic of the mirror—“about your magical talent. You are, in fact, an anomaly. Just as everypony expected you to be. But I don’t think you’re a danger to Twilight, unless of course you somehow convince her to go off and do something dangerous with you… which I suppose is entirely possible, given her need for adventure and her hobbies.” 

Drawn from his thoughts, Sundance gave all of his attention to the pony in the mirror. 

“Your magical talent is courage in the face of danger… but it comes at a cost.” Sunburst folded his forelegs over his barrel and used his magic to level out his crooked spectacles. “Your, uh, magic, uh, how do I say this? It, well, it ‘adjusts’ your intelligence to suit the situation. Any time that you are afraid, your intelligence drops until the fear becomes irrelevant. Until you are too stupid to realise that you’re in danger.” 

“Say again?” Sundance’s ears pricked tall. 

“Your talent makes you a brave idiot,” Moondancer said. 

“Are… are you telling me that I’m some kind of… moron?” asked Sundance. 

“Not just any moron,” Moondancer replied, “a magical moron. The dream of every civilisation is to create artificial intelligence… but you… you… you have artificial stupidity.” She reached out and tapped on a sheet of paper on the table in front of her. “Of course, this will be carefully detailed in your permanent file.” 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that you’re immune to fear,” Sunburst said with great hesitation. “I mean, you’ll still feel afraid, but you’ll continue to function. Even magical fear, or the kind of fear that can kill a pony. We can die of fright, you know. A vulnerability of our species. Fear affects us harshly, but not you. Your magic removes the awareness of fear, and the ability to think too much about it. It is rather unique. Moondancer could cast a terror spell on you if you’d like a demonstration.” 

“If I say yes, is it because I am scared right now but too dumb to know it?” Sundance thought about his own words, was quite uncertain of them, and of himself as well. Right now, he might be an idiot, and not know it. Could an idiot be so idiotic that they were unaware of their idiocy? Much to his dismay, he thought about all of the stupid things he’d done, such as slaloming the smokestacks, or flying into Canterlot in the middle of a brutal storm. Or crashing into the treetop canopy to make a delivery. 

It was true: he was a magical moron; that was the only explanation for his behaviour. 

“Might I get it in writing that I am an imbecile?” he asked. “It could be a useful excuse.” 

Moondancer snorted so hard that she knocked her glasses askew. 

“My mother needs to know about this,” he said to Moondancer, who fixed her spectacles. 

“Wait—” Moondancer held up her hoof in front of Sundance, as if to keep him at a distance. “Is this why you asked me to probe you? It would surely explain that kind of stupidity. You… you’re scared of me, aren’t you?” 

“I might be”—Sundance might have been fine if that was all that he had said, but more words spilled out from his traitorous mouth—“but I still want to make you my bucking-bronco rodeo princess.” A second later—a long, long, long second later, he clamped both of his front hooves over his mouth and then sat there, stunned, left in shock by what he’d said. 

At least he could blame his own stupidity; the excuse was valid. 

“Oh, that’s awkward,” Starlight said from within the mirror. 

“While I would very much like to discover coitus before I am an old, withered mare”—the bespectacled egghead endured an awkward pause—“I’d rather it not be with somepony who has a room-temperature intelligence quotient.” 

“Alcohol exists for a reason, Moonie—” 

“Starlight!” 

“Don’t you Starlight me, Sunburst. You’ve said it yourself, she needs to get—” 

“Nevermind what I said,” Sunburst said as he cut Starlight off. “This is how we ended up employed by royals. Our utter lack of professionality renders us unsuitable for the private sector.” 

The fear subsided a little; Sundance could tell because he felt his thoughts creeping back in. Troubling thoughts, nagging thoughts, the sort of thoughts that pestered him—though right now he was reassured by their return. He heard giggling from the mirror and Moondancer’s face had a reddish hue. Was he among friends? Probably. This processing had brought them together. He inhaled, so much so that his lungs ached from the stretch, and then let everything go in one long, slow exhale. 

Professionalism didn’t concern him; clearly, Twilight wanted friends who would work together. This wasn’t Canterlot, which was a wholly different environment. As his fear receded, his thoughts cleared and thinking became easier. This… this was a pattern in his life, the way his thoughts returned to him after tense situations. He lowered his hooves, but didn’t know what to do with them. 

He thought of Hollyhock, his fear, and how he’d unleashed his stupidity upon her. It didn’t excuse him, and he knew the importance of taking responsibility for his actions. Now that he was aware of it, he’d have to own it. Life would challenge him. He would find himself in danger. Fear would encroach upon him—and he would respond. The idea of an apology scared him—quite a bit, in fact—and he wondered how such fear might influence him. It might make the apology harder. 

At last, the muted, muffled giggles in the mirror subsided, and Sundance felt calm again. 
> It is pitch black. You are likely to be hugged by a Ponk!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After his emotional high, Sundance explored the depths of his emotional low. This was much like the time after adrenaline jitters—different but also the same in all the ways that mattered—and he allowed himself to be processed. Spells were cast upon him, and he stood in water that was not wet. Water that was not even wholly within this reality. Astral waters, that flowed through this reality and the astral realms. When he stood in the brain-washer, it calmed him. Smoothed out his thoughts. He could only assume that it washed away all lingering traces of stupidity and Moondancer was absolutely right; it felt marvellous. 

Moondancer wrote something, though he knew not what, and Sundance was left alone with his thoughts. Already, he knew that for him to keep his wits, for him to keep his mind, he would have to learn how to control his fear, lest he be stricken stupid. Succumbing to his fear would rob him of his senses, his wits, what little precious intelligence he had. Sundance knew that he was not a smart pony, not by a longshot. His lack of higher intelligence was an asset though; this much he knew, for it allowed him to slog through the absolute worst of bureaucratic processes without losing his mind. Being thickheaded made him an unstoppable warrior against the dreaded demon paperwork. 

“We’re almost done here,” the bespectacled unicorn said to Sundance while her pen danced over a sheet of paper. “I must say, for all of the weirdness, it really is nice to meet you.” Her pen paused, just as she did, and she seemed somehow flustered. “I am flattered that you found me attractive. Even if it is probably just some quirk of magic.” 

Sundance started to say something, but realised that now was a time to listen. 

“I don’t have a lot of adult friends,” she said. “Might have mentioned that. Well, there are adults who are friends with me, but I have a hard time with my end of the connection. It’s easier to be friends with foals. This almost feels too complicated to talk about.” 

Her pen sprang to life and began to move again. Smooth, flowing loops; terse, short lines; perfect dots that left behind no blobs of ink. Each letter was perfect, remarkable, and done without a trace of effort. Sundance envied her script, her magical connection to the pen that allowed her thoughts to flow onto paper in such a way. When he wrote, he had to work for it. While his calligraphy was better than average, it was nothing at all like what Moondancer could do without effort. 

“I become overly frustrated by the stupidity of others,” she said while her pen continued its careful, beautiful dance. “But I am not bothered by foals. They’re little. Their life is defined by what they don’t know. I wish I knew a better way of saying this that did not make me sound so egotistical.” 

Every letter spawned from the pen was a masterpiece of fluid perfection. 

“I was once friends with Sumac Apple. He was very dear to me. I suppose he still is.” Her head tilted, she sighed, and then her head rotated from side to side in an abrupt, jerky manner. “He is still friends with me, but as he grew into adulthood, I found it harder and harder to connect with him. The stupid things he did annoyed me more and more. I grew increasingly frustrated with him, and it became harder and harder to speak with him.” 

When she sighed, it left behind a morose atmosphere, as if each exhale filled the room with tangible sadness. 

“I regret that things changed between us.” 

This time when she turned to look him in the eye, Sundance saw the the pain hidden behind her thick, spotless eyeglass lenses. “Of course, fate would make it so that the one pony who was actually attracted to me was cursed with artificial stupidity. As awkward as all of this is, I would like for you to know that I am genuinely flattered. Of course, I am old enough to be your mother, and that makes things even weirder… and I am probably going to spend far too long talking to my therapist about all of this.” 

This time, when the pen halted, it was pulled away from the paper, capped, and then vanished. 

“Twilight will see you shortly. You might have to wait. Yes, she cleared her schedule for you, but things happened. Life happened. Circumstances changed a bit. I’m not completely sure what happened. We’re done here, and you are free to move into the next waiting room. Your saddlebags will be returned to you once your visit is over. Now that you are processed, you are ‘clean’, in a manner of speaking. I am positive that the wait won’t be long, as Twilight is quite eager to meet you.” 

“I don’t mind the wait,” he said with the hopes of making Moondancer’s job just a tiny bit easier. “Processing wasn’t so bad. I got a chance to learn about myself, and more importantly, I got a chance to meet you. Consider yourself one of my friends, even if you have a hard time returning the… uh… feeling? Is that the word I’m after?” After he’d flubbed his words, he wondered if his new friend was annoyed with him, and he was fearful that he’d failed to make a good impression. 

“Through the door, please. You will find yourself in a waiting room just outside the visitation chambers. Good luck with Twilight. I hope that you and her find a way to save Equestria. It’s a bit worrisome, that. Everything is on the verge of collapse.” 

These final, parting words caused Sundance’s mouth to turn dry. He rubbed one front hoof against the other—his pricked frog only hurt because of the memory of pain—and he found himself considering the ramifications of Moondancer’s casual statement. If what she said were true, if Twilight wanted him to save Equestria somehow, then this was going to be a long day indeed. 

“It was nice meeting you,” he said, his voice dry and creaky as an addled adolescent’s. 

Then, saying nothing, Moondancer gestured for him to leave. 



 

The waiting room wasn’t just one room, but several. Three small rooms that formed a sort of half-circle around a teeny, tiny central alcove with a decorative fountain and some plants. It was luxuriously furnished, with things fit for a princess, or prince, or visiting dignitary, or, in his own case, a visiting baron from a bumpkin barony. During his exploration of these rooms and the perfectly round room in the middle, he found bookshelves and books aplenty. 

He saw fish in the fountain, which were nice to look at. At least it was a pleasant way to waste time. A devious part of him wondered if Princess Twilight made Princess Celestia wait in these chambers. All of the framed art on the walls were done by foals. Little hopeful artists, no doubt. There were windows here, but something didn’t quite feel real about them. He suspected that what he saw in the windows had to be some manner of illusion, because he was too far into the depths of Twilight’s castle. 

In the middle of the three rooms, the one directly left of the central round alcove, Sundance found a door left ajar. Being a curious pony, he poked his nose in so that he might have a look around. He found a closet filled with all manner of mundane things. A mop hung from a hook, there was a bucket in the rear, and a broom stood in the corner. The broom had some cobwebs on it, and was in dire need of a little housekeeping. There was a watering can for the plants, some bottles of something or other, and a humongous box of fish food with a smiling seapony on the front. 

Something seemed wrong with using a seapony to sell fish food. 

Disappointed, dismayed, Sundance shut the closet door. There was nothing exciting in there, no grand adventure into the unknown awaited. Now that he was an adult, closets had lost their magic. No longer were they portals into distant, dangerous adventure. A secret lair, a dark, dank cave, a hidden cache for pilfered cookies, a closet could be anything. Only now, as an adult, a closet was just a place for cleaning supplies. He sighed, forlorn, mourning his long-lost foalhood, and wondered at what point did the magic he once knew leave the world. The time when his toys still spoke to him and his imagination felt so real. 

Real adventure awaited him now. He’d ventured into a long-forgotten ancient cellar in search of a lost foal. An owlbear had been battled and a friend lost forever. It was spider season… which was rather worrisome. His forays into the closet as a foal had not prepared him for this. The closet was a means to escape the city—but now he’d escaped the city and closets were a luxury that he no longer had. 

If he had foals, he would need to provide them closets to play in. 

Or at least to hide from spiders in, because spider season promised to be a long-term problem. 

He thought of Moondancer, relished his lingering attraction to her, and his brain suggested that it would be easier to meet mares now that he was grown up and away from his classmates. This might be true, or not true at all, but he did move in different social circles now. Now, due to the changes in his life, he knew weird ponies, and surely, one of these ponies would be just the right sort of weird for him. 

With the closet door now shut, Sundance prowled around for something to keep him occupied. Something to keep his eyes busy for a time, a distraction to pass the time. If Princess Celestia had to wait here, what would she do? How might she spend her time? Her time was too valuable to waste, but Sundance was a rookie baron from a foul-smelling barony. He had more time than he knew what to do with. 

Had Moondancer ensorceled away his stench? 

It seemed likely. 

Beyond the bookshelf just to the right of the closet, there was a wall and upon this wall were a gallery’s worth of foalhood art—as well as one sign. A yellow warning sign, the sort of sign that immediately draws one’s attention. Unaware of any danger here, Sundance wondered what could possibly be a threat, and moved in to have a closer look at what the sign had to say. Maybe something about the floor being slippery when wet, or some other such nonsense. 

Yellow sign, black letters, a black triangle with a lightning bolt speared through it, the universal pictogram for danger. But the words printed on the sign confused Sundance a great deal. Mysterious words that had no context, no meaning. Words that failed to express or explain what the danger was, or why it was dangerous. 

“Beware of Ponk,” he read aloud. “That makes no sense at all. What’s a ponk? Is this sign a joke of some sort? Just what is a ponk, and why is it capitalised?” 

The closet door burst open without warning, and a vivid pink force of nature emerged. Before Sundance could react, or even cry out, the force of nature was upon him, cartwheeling to quickly close the distance. There was a terrific smack when the pink mare collided with him, the sort of smack that could only be described as a stone block slathered in custard and then wrapped up in the softest, pinkest velvet. Sundance would have been bowled over, but the pink elemental grabbed him, and somehow he found himself lifted up into the air. 

Then, the most horrible thing happened: she squeezed. 

Sundance experienced the longest second in his life, which stretched like pink taffy into a prolonged infinity with no conceivable end. Perhaps it was some lingering aftereffects of the portal. But he was being crushed to death, that much was for certain, and he saw his short life flash before his eyes in a not-so-compelling blur. His life, for the majority of it, wasn’t terribly exciting. 

“I’m a Ponk, silly!” The pink terror squeezed so hard that Sundance’s eyeballs almost escaped his eye sockets. “I’m the Pinkiest Ponk that ever did Ponk! Oh, I love hugging pegasus ponies, just like Rainbow Dash! They’re so fluffy! I just can’t stand it!” 

Sundance found himself wondering if his duodenum would survive this, but he had no idea what a duodenum was. His was in danger though, mortal peril, for surely his ribs would collapse and his insides crushed to jelly. She was impossibly strong—as strong as she was pink—and Sundance was whirled round and round while she bounced from one hind hoof to the other. 

Blood rushed into his wings with each squeeze, each life-threatening act of constriction, and he feared that his feathers might go shooting out from the intense pressure. His organs shifted around, which caused some of them to be squooshed down into his legs, and his brain thrummed against the back of his eyeballs to the time of his own frantically beating heart. 

This was how he died; not by owlbear, or spider, or monster, but by earth pony. 

An ignoble end for certain. 

“Oh, you’re so soft and fluffy! You have that wonderful pegasus pelt! I love it so much!” The Ponk’s words were muffled, smothered as she rubbed her fuzzy cheek against his neck and jaw. “So smooth and sleek! I miss Dashie! She’s so hard to catch now! Oooooh!” 

Sundance tried to breathe; he struggled to draw breath and found that he couldn’t. Air no longer existed, there was only pink. Everything was somehow pink and it was all because he failed to beware of the Ponk. How she’d come out of the closet was a great unknown, a mystery, one of life’s riddles. Sundance lived in a world that was now post-Ponk-comes-out-of-the-closet, and nothing would ever be the same. Closets were no longer safe. 

She snorted, she giggled, she squealed, but all sounds shared something in common, and they were pink. Sundance had never heard pink noise before, but he heard it now, and would never be the same after his experience. When she hugged him, he distinctly heard the sound of two balloons being rubbed together, but he could not discern the source. 

Then, quite without warning, he was put down by the Ponk of pinkness, she looked into his eyes, and said, “You seem sad.” 

Sundance’s organs couldn’t remember their way home. 

“My name is Pinkie Pie, and in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m the Ponk. You’re Sundance, unless I am mistaken. Why are you sad?” 

He drew in a wheezing breath, and failed to respond. 

Sundance found himself picked up once more—gently this time—carried across the room, and then the Ponk plonked him down upon a sofa. She sat down beside him, patted him on the back, and her merry blue eyes twinkled with unspeakable, indescribable joy. A few grey strands could be seen in her mane, but something about her was young, eternal, timeless. 

“I am sad,” he gasped, and perhaps because he was just squeezed, he found that words just spilled out of his mouth. “This morning, I lost my temper. I said awful things. Mean things. Horrible things. I got scared and then I got stupid and I just found out that when I get scared I turn stupid and I’m pretty sure that is what happened this morning and when I go home, I have to face the music, I need to own up to what I’ve done, and that scares me, and I’m worried that I’ll be stupid because I’m scared, and that will make me mess everything up, and then everything will be worse, and if I make things worse, then maybe I shouldn’t be a baron anymore, and that, that really scares me.” 

His words were punctuated by a faint squeak. 

“Oh boy, that’s rough,” Pinkie Pie said while she pulled him into a smothering hug. 

“I don’t know how to make things right.” Sundance wondered if he was scared right now, because he felt stupid. What made it worse was the fact that he didn’t know if this was just general stupidity, which he was prone to, or stupidity brought about by fear. When beset on all sides by stupidity, it was difficult to determine the source. 

“Well, to start with, you hafta say that you’re sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn’t always make things right,” he replied whilst he shook his head. “That doesn’t fix anything. I said awful things.” 

“Well”—Pinkie stretched out this word until it was as long as a sentence—“you still gotta say that you’re sorry. That’s just how it is. Even if it doesn’t fix things. It’s how you start, see? Sometimes, sometimes we don’t say we’re sorry… for whatever reason. Sometimes we just expect that we’ll be forgiven. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a Pie Sister, it’s that we can’t take other ponies for granite. Saying that you’re sorry helps to smooth over hurt feelings.”

“Huh?” Something that Pinkie had said jarred Sundance from his thoughts, but he wasn’t sure what. Just something. 

“Oh, I’ve done stupid things and just expected my sisters to forgive me. Because they’re my sisters. And I didn’t say that I was sorry. That caused a little resentment. It was a big complicated mess, the sort of convoluted mess that seems like it might take forever to fix, but in reality takes about twenty-two minutes to resolve.” 

“Twenty-two?” Sundance had no idea what was going on. 

The pink Ponk squeezed him, softly, and pulled him close. “You seem a little clueless, Sundance. Do you need for me to slow down and explain things?” 

“Uh, maybe?” 

“Start with saying that you’re sorry. It might not fix things, but leaves an opening for future dialogue.” Pinkie Pie patted him on the back while her riotous curls boinged about her head like a crown of the curliest chaos. “After that, it is just a matter of hard work to make everything right.” 

“I don’t think it will be that easy. Hollyhock is one of my peasants. One of my subjects. And I think she hates me. I’m pretty sure that she does. This doesn’t seem like something that I can fix. It feels very complicated.” 

“Sometimes, things can’t be fixed in twenty-two minutes. Every now and then, a really big boo-boo happens. Not a simple screw up, but a big-time blunder. Something that requires both forgiveness and redemption. That might take a whole season. Maybe more.” She rubbed her fuzzy chin with what seemed to be a third hoof, because she still had Sundance in a smothering embrace. “If you crammed all of that forgiveness and redemption into twenty-two minutes, or worse, a brief montage, that would just be stupid. So, expect for it to take some time, but you can still sort things out.” 

“What if I just make things worse?” he asked. “It’s hard, because I am in a position of authority over Hollyhock, and I think she resents that. No matter how I approach her, no matter how I say I am sorry, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s still stuck doing what I say. I really want her to accept my apology as a pony, not as a baron.”

“Oh, that’s tough. Twilight has that problem. Even more so now that she is the de facto ruler of Equestria. As far as I know, she’s never managed to make peace with it, and it remains an ongoing problem. It’s hard to be friends with those you rule. Technically, she rules over me, but I don’t listen, I disobey royal decrees, and I do my part to make everything better.” 

“Royal decrees?” Sundance, confuzzled beyond his understanding, sought an explanation. 

“I am supposed to act in a manner befitting a royal… and I just don’t. Twilight keeps trying to reinforce it, and it has become a game we play. It allows Twilight to blow off stress. She has a lot of stress. But this doesn’t apply to you, I suppose.” 

“No, I guess it doesn’t. But it does help me—” 

“Oh goodness gosh!” the pink Ponk exclaimed suddenly. “I am supposed to be helping Rarity! I promised that I wouldn’t get distracted! Rarity needs me!” 

Sundance found himself released from her smothering embrace and she lept up from the sofa with an explosion of curls. Pinkie Pie pronked, bounced, and cartwheeled across the room. Into the closet she went, slammed the door behind her, and then the clang of metal could be heard, followed by a series of increasingly frustrated grunts. 

“Who left a mop bucket in the cleaning closet?” she could be heard saying, which was then followed by silence. 

Sundance waited on the sofa, uncertain of whatever had just happened. When she did not come back out of the closet, he rose from where he sat, and moving at a cautious trot, he approached the closed closet door. A part of him wanted to flee, his brain warned him against discovering the truth, but he did not listen to himself. The daredevil part of his mind compelled him to keep going, to open the door. 

Even if doing so might mean his ruination.

After he reached out his wing, he hesitated, frightened for reasons that he dared not think about. Because of his foalhood love of comic books, he understood cosmic horror, and he wondered if that is what he felt right now. A Ponk had come out of the closet, and a Ponk had gone into the closet. But what was in the closet right now? Blood thundered in his ears and his heart pounded within the tight confines of his throat. 

All he had to do was open the door and confront the unknown. 

Why was that so hard? 

Sweaty, fearful, he wondered if his mind was going. It might be. That was his new worry. Every time he felt afraid, he would wonder if his mind was going. Fear gave him the stupids. Pegasus ponies did dangerous things. Scary things. Flying was sometimes pretty scary, and so was crashing. Yes, crashing could be extra scary, and he recalled how his mind seemed to disconnect when he was about to have an exciting landing. 

“Just open the door, Sundance.” 

His primaries were inches away from the brass handle. Just inches. Yet, the ornate brass handle might as well be miles away. Ears rigid, tall, straight, he listened, but heard nothing. An earth pony had come out of the closet, and then back in. A closet, which only had one door, one way to go in or out. Logic dictated that if he opened the door, he would find a Ponk. Yet, when he’d looked into his closet earlier, there was no Ponk to be found. Logic was dumb, and so was Sundance. 

Nothing to it but to do it. Sundance reached out his trembling wing, and then reconsidered. What if he didn’t like what he saw? He might open the closet door and gaze into the maw that devoured sanity. There might be colours from beyond space in there, pink abominations beyond imagination. His thigh muscles jerked while his belly spasmed. It was hard to breathe now, but it was also getting harder to think. And he knew why. That made everything worse. 

Just as his primaries touched the brass handle, the door opened on its own. It swung out, almost hitting him, but stopped as suddenly as it had opened. From the darkness beyond, a pink limb extended—it reached around the edge of the door and the pink hoof at the end was pressed firmly against Sundance’s snoot. He might have screamed, but all his air had long since left his lungs. 

“Boop!” 

Sundance backed away in a hurry, his eyes crossed, and his tail tucked between his legs. He heard a giggle from within the dark confines of the closet, and then the pink leg was pulled in. It vanished like a slurping tongue back into the inky blackness from whence it came. The door did not close, no, but remained opened just enough for a limb to reach out. Sundance tripped over his own legs and went down into a heap with a muffled, muted wheeze of terror that lacked the air required for volume. 

Never again would he ever trust a closet; for beyond the door was Ponk-space.
> Pleasant purple princess
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Princess Twilight Sparkle was intimidatingly large, though not tall. Oh, she was taller than Sundance was by a head, maybe a head and a half, but not as tall as Princess Celestia. Twilight was at least two Celestias wide though at the shoulder. Celestia was elegant, graceful, delicate; Twilight was solid, muscled, and enduring. Sundance might have noticed more about her, except that it was her face that held his attention captive. Her left eye, ear, the side of her muzzle, her cheek, the whole left side of her face was withered, almost hairless, and covered in scabby sores. 

Just the sight of it caused a sinking sensation in Sundance’s stomach. 

“Does my face bother you?” she asked. “I could try to cover it up with illusion, but that might make it worse.” 

“Do my… do my scars bother you?” he asked in return. 

For a moment, Twilight was motionless, unresponsive, and then she chuckled. She stood in the doorway—which was barely large enough to accommodate her—and visibly relaxed a bit. “Good answer. You knew just what to say.” 

“Oh, I’m not that clever. I just said the first thing that came to mind. Probably should have thought about it more.” 

“But you still said the right thing.” She stepped out of the door and closer to Sundance. “I was uncomfortable. You reassured me with something we have in common. Even if you didn’t mean to do it, it was still the right thing to do.” 

“What happened… if you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

“Picked a fight with a lich.” With her face now serious, Twilight inhaled, then chuffed. “It summoned an otherworldly tentacle, which bypassed all my protections and slapped me in the face. Stung a bit.” 

“Will it heal?” he asked, concerned. 

“I’m an alicorn,” she replied. “Given enough time, almost any wound will heal—though I can’t regrow lost limbs. This is necromantic in nature, so healing might take a while. Celestia too, tangled with necromancers during her wild youth. I understand that you picked a fight with an owlbear.” 

“Sort of.” Sundance shrugged. “Wasn’t like I had any choice in the matter.” 

“Neither do I,” Twilight deadpanned. “Come in. Do come in. We have much to discuss.” 



 

There was a crib in the room, and from the crib came a muffled snuffling. Sundance failed to notice much else, because he didn’t expect a crib. Or maybe he did and didn’t know it. The room was rather large, though Twilight’s dominating presence caused it to feel smaller somehow. Sundance stood near the door while Twilight crossed the room and went right to the crib. She halted beside it, looked down inside, and made wordless hushings to quiet the fussy foal. 

“The nanny got sick,” Twilight said to Sundance. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s surprisingly complicated to get help on short notice.” 

“They would have to be processed.” 

“Right you are. They would have to be processed and that would be an ordeal.” Twilight turned about and when she did, there was something aggressive about her expression. “Keeping them safe is a full time job unto itself. I almost cancelled our meeting… but at the last minute I decided to give you a chance. Perhaps this is a good way to get to know you.” 

She beckoned with her wing and Sundance found himself compelled forwards. Did he move under his own volition, or Twilight’s? He couldn’t tell. As he moved, he looked around, and found the room rather plain. Very few distractions. There was a table, some hard chairs—the sort of hard chairs hard to fall asleep in—and some understated, plain office furniture that was entirely unremarkable.

When he drew close, Twilight was larger somehow. It wasn’t her proportions, but rather, her presence. Sundance found that he felt quite small compared to her. Sundance, a little fearful, peeked into the crib, hesitant about the astonishingly large mare who stood beside him. He had no doubt that Twilight could wrestle an owlbear and win. In the crib, he saw pink fluff, a bit of orange fuzz, and vivid blue eyes—eyes that were the same shade of blue as the closet-dwelling Ponk. He noted the stubby horn that peeked out from the mess of curls. 

“Is this one yours?” he asked. 

“No, and thank you for asking.” Some of Twilight’s aggression melted away. “I worry about awkward assumptions all the time, because she’s a unicorn. Her mother, Pinkie Pie, is in Canterlot right now. Our little filly is sick and couldn’t travel with her mother.”

“In Canterlot you say?” He lifted his eyes from the crib to have a better look at Twilight. Canterlot. Well, there was no point in mentioning what had happened. Some things were better left unsaid. “Does she have a name?” 

“She does,” Twilight replied, “given to her by her grandmother, Cloudy.” 

“Oh.” Fretful, Sundance retreated a step. 

“I don’t trust you yet.” Sadness and aggression appeared in Twilight’s eyes in equal measure. “The press has a reward of one million bits for anypony who has the name of my offspring. So far, they don’t know their names, and that drives them crazy. This… this makes me happy. My offspring haven’t been photographed, their names are not public knowledge, and I have somehow maintained their privacy. It’s nothing against you, Sundance.” 

Right now, he wanted to say something witty, something that would define him, something that might impress Twilight, something that might earn her trust, but no words came to mind. Was this a test of some sort? Probably. In the crib was something incredibly precious to Twilight, something she held dear, a precious treasure that she valued. The fact that he was here at all said much. Yes, this was probably some sort of test, but he could not conceive what the nature of said test might be. 

“We’ve met in your dreams,” Twilight said in a far more relaxed tone. “It is nice to actually meet you in pony. You should know that you are an apt pupil and you have taken to your lessons well.” 

Lessons? He only had vague memories of the dreams. Sometimes he was in a classroom, and Twilight was his teacher. If there was a test, he was in big trouble, because he couldn’t recall much of anything of his lessons. Perhaps this too, was a test. How well could he hold up to overwhelming confusion? Right now, his best option was to play it cool and not freak out. 

Since words were hard to come by at the moment, Sundance went to work on studying Twilight. Her withered, injured face was a hard read, but her posture seemed mostly relaxed. While she was on guard, she did not stand straight-legged, nor did she have her withers squared. As a pegasus, Sundance was sensitive to these things, these signs. Twilight’s wings were tucked firmly against her sides, and every feather was immaculate. Her tail was in a neutral position, though it was a little difficult to see past her broad, muscled neck. 

Something about Twilight’s physicality appealed to him, though he stifled his sense of attraction for fear of his own life. If Princess Celestia was an artful alabaster statue, Twilight was a slab of granite. The sort of mare who busted down the no-doubt impenetrable doors of liches while announcing she wasn’t there for tea and biscuits. Of course, Princess Celestia did these things too, apparently, but Twilight’s physicality offered much in the way of raw intimidation. 

“You find me attractive.” 

Sundance dared not reply, and he averted his eyes. 

“It’s fine, really. A little flattering. Typically, earth ponies find me attractive.” She inhaled, smiled, and held out her right wing in a reassuring manner. “For the past few years, I’ve been trying to figure out the secrets of earth pony magic. Shatterstone and such. Gravity field manipulation. Powerful passive magics that earth ponies are unaware of themselves doing. My studies have changed me. Altered me significantly. 

“Celestia tells me that alicorns are shaped by the part of themselves that they favour. She lives in balance… an alicorn’s natural form is supple and willowy, so I’m told. Distinct and different from other equine forms. I’ve not yet found my balance. My body holds far too much mystery for me to ignore.” 

Unsure of what to say, Sundance nodded. 

“You seem tense, and that’s understandable.” Twilight’s head turned and she glanced down into the crib. “I’d like for us to be friends, Sundance. Equestria needs a future, and I’d like for us to work together to secure it. I have grand plans and I am hoping that you can help me.” 

“How could I possibly help you?” Incredulous, he raised his gaze from the floor to study Twilight’s face once more. “I barely have a functioning barony. Am I to be flattered? If so, what for? To what end? You have but to ask and I will probably say yes. That seems to be what I am good at.” 

Amused, Twilight smiled, which caused her withered face to wrinkle. 

“Have a seat,” she said while she made a broad sweeping motion with her wing. 

With a quick turn of his head, he looked behind him, then on each side, unsure of which chair to sit in. Which chair was Twilight’s chair? Did she have a favourite? Squinting a bit, he searched for tell-tale purple hairs, but found none. Each chair was clean, free of hair. Was this a conundrum? This felt like a conundrum. If he picked a chair, and it was Twilight’s favorite chair, that would just be rude. Of course, if he remained standing after he was told to sit down, that was also rude. Oh, what to do, what to do. 

He chose a sturdy chair, and almost sat in that, but changed his mind at the last minute. That sturdy chair might be Twilight’s chair; it was solid, the sort of chair that wouldn’t collapse to splinters beneath her bulk. Now he felt clever for having averted this crisis. A different chair was chosen, and feeling smart, he sat down. He settled himself, smiled, and felt good about his brilliance, which he believed had served him well. 

There was a brilliant flash from Twilight’s horn and a round purple-pink cushion appeared. She placed this on the floor, smoothed out the ornamental tassels, and then in most unregal fashion, she plopped her hippopotamic backside down upon the unfortunate pillow. There she sat, just beside the crib, and Sundance could not help but feel extra-stupid. Why, he wasn’t even terrified at the moment. All that to-do over where to sit, and all for naught. 

Sundance’s observances suggested to him that there was something vaguely catlike about Twilight Sparkle and the way she sat upon her cushion. But not a housecat, no. Something larger, more dangerous, and far more toothy. She pulled her tail around her, smoothed it out, and then assumed a perfect pose. Straight front legs, folded hind legs, wings wrapped against her sides, neck straight, and with her head held at a perfect angle. All that was left was for Twilight to meow—or whatever sound large cats made. She was the tigress beside the crib, and Sundance couldn’t help but feel just a little nervous. 

“Moondancer mentioned that you fought a lich while I was processed,” he said for the lack of anything better to say. 

“And Moondancer briefly told me about your purpose… your talent. Oh, and also your terrible flirting.” Eyes almost teasing, a broad grin split Twilight’s face. “Don’t feel bad though. I am Princess Friendzone, and my terrible flirting is the stuff of legend by now.” 

“I haven’t had much practice,” he responded, somewhat astonished that this was the current topic of conversation. 

Still grinning, Twilight gestured at the crib with a toss of her head. “This adorable little surprise is the direct result of my last attempt at flirting.” 

“Oh, that’s bad.” He found himself wondering how that worked; how that might happen. 

“It is, really. Tell me, are you feeling the pressure to start a family yet, Sundance?” 

“Yeah?” Without thinking, he reached up to rub the back of his neck where the long, raking scars began. “A bit. I understand what is expected of me, but I’m having some trouble sorting the ‘me’ part of it out.” 

“It will change you,” Twilight said in some vague-but-meaningful way. “For me, it allowed me to connect to my subjects in a way I couldn’t before. We had a shared common ground. A shared fear, a worry. I developed an empathy that I lacked, and it opened a lot of doors for me. Of course, as Princess Friendzone, I was good at the friends part of a relationship, but not so good at the romance aspect.” 

He wondered why she told him this. 

“Once you have a family, it will change how you rule, Sundance. If you ever need help, don’t ask me. Remember, I’m the Princess of Friendship. And if I were you, I wouldn’t ask Celestia for help either. She’s a tease. Cadance is the one to ask for help.” Twilight’s mirthful eyes glittered with mischievous glee. “Just don’t take too long, or somepony is bound to take matters into their own hooves.” 

“I do worry about connecting with my subjects,” he blurted out. “It’s hard to find stuff in common.” At the worst possible moment, he thought of Hollyhock, his difficulty in understanding her, and he grimaced without realising that he did so. Without thought, his right front hoof extended, and then it just bobbed in the air whilst he struggled to find words. 

“It is a legitimate concern.” Something about Twilight’s voice was both friendly and maternal, but not in the same manner that Celestia could be friendly and maternal. “Speaking for myself, I wondered why these things even mattered.” With a shake of her head, she sighed. “Things were so much simpler just a few years ago. Much has changed.” 

“Does it really change you that much?” he asked as he pulled his hoof back. 

“If you let it,” was Twilight’s cryptic reply. “Look, it’s not that it is wholly necessary, it is just that it gives you so much insight. New connections will be made available. A different way to see the world. For right now though, focus on friendship. You have an impossible task set out before you. For that, you’ll need friends.” 

“I think Hollyhock hates me.” These words were said without Sundance giving them much thought. “In fact, I know she does.” Hesitating, unsure of what to say next, or why he was saying this right now, he found himself fumbling to put his thoughts into words. 

“As the Princess of Friendship, I am quite sensitive to hate.” There was a long sigh from Twilight. “I lived in fear of upsetting others. For the longest time, I was the neutral princess. Well, sort of. I did have a few strong stances. But the idea of somepony hating me caused me a lot of problems. I had trouble taking bold, decisive action.” She paused, and her head tilted towards the ceiling. “I lived in so much fear back then. The idea that somepony might hate me, or hate what I did, that paralysed me. That was a tough lesson to learn. One that I could not learn on my own.” 

A tough lesson? Sundance wondered what she meant by that. Should he ask? If he waited, she might tell him; odds seemed good that she would use her own experiences as instructional aids. Twilight wasn’t like Celestia, not at all. She was warm, earnest, forward and open. Celestia was aloof while Twilight seemed far more direct. For obvious reasons, Twilight was easier to be friends with. 

“I got scared this morning and said dumb things,” Sundance said to Twilight. 

“Heh”—there was a dismissive wave with Twilight’s right hoof, which moved with startling suddenness—“I got liquored up in Las Pegasus and committed epic acts of stupidity. While I still don’t remember getting married, I have watched the crime evidence film. Quite a number of times, actually. For a time, I would wake up at night, all sweaty and worried about what I’d done. Now, while I am a princess, and something of a focal point for the public eye, as it turns out, I think about me and the things I’ve done more than the ponies around me do. The reality is, I care more about my screw-ups than everypony else around me does.” 

Sundance blinked slowly while he tried to process what had been said. 

“Everypony is too busy thinking about their own failures and worrying about what others think of them to spend too much time thinking about your failures. Whatever those might be. You are going to make mistakes. Sometimes, you will do dumb things that your peasants laugh at. Occasionally, they might be angry with you. But remember… they are just like you in all the ways that matter. When they are struggling with mistakes from their past, try to reach out to them. That’s your opportunity. Your chance to do something meaningful when it matters.” 

“I used Holly’s past against her and made her cry.” 

“Ouch.” With her face crinkled from her powerful cringe, Twilight’s countenance took on that of an old mare. “That’ll take some work to fix, Sundance. Luckily, you have time. Lots of time. Lots of free time. You need to work on fixing that.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “But don’t undermine your own authority. I’m still working on the subtle nuances of sorting that out, actually. I tend to make a mess of things.” 

“Well, before this happened, I hadn’t really made too much of a mess of anything.” He absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck again and tried not to think too much about how things went wrong. “She’s right. I just sort of bumbled along and allowed things to happen.” 

“No, she’s wrong.” 

“She is?” Uncertain, confused, he pulled his hoof away from his neck and tried once more to read Twilight’s face. 

“From what I understand, you turned your barony into a corporate entity.” 

“Oh that.” He found himself wondering how he might explain this to her. “I really didn’t make that decision.” 

“You didn’t?” Twilight’s expression was now one of genuine surprise. 

Again, he began scratching at his neck with the hard edge of his hoof, so much so now that his scars turned itchy from the irritation. “Rustic had a plan to save the barony. I wasn’t sold on it right away, but I came around when I saw the good that could be done. Me being me however, I allowed it to happen.” 

“Hmm.” The low throaty hum from Twilight resonated in her broad, well-muscled neck. “There’s a friendship lesson… trusting in your friends to save you.” Her head turned and her good eye brought its intense stare to bear upon him. “Having to trust in somepony, hoping that they don’t take advantage of you. That’s part of what I hoped to discuss today, Sundance. That decision to corporatise your barony.” 

Twilight didn’t seem upset, though Sundance wasn’t immediately reassured. She might be using her princessly powers to hide her feelings. For all he knew, she might be furious with him—but that didn’t seem to be the case. In fact, that seemed unlikely, but Sundance could not dismiss his concerns outright. 

“Right now, it seems that I have to trust in you… and hope that you don’t take advantage of me.” Nopony was more surprised by the words that had come out of Sundance’s mouth than he was. In awe, he blinked a few times, and it took him a moment to establish that he had, in fact, said them. 

“Well, I am also one of your investors, Sundance. My mother and I both. If you need reassurance, trust that I want a return on my investment, and that I will do nothing to endanger it.” A merry twinkle returned to Twilight’s eye and both of her ears were now forward-facing. 

“Your mother invested so she could have a safe spot to stash orphans,” Sundance said to Twilight. “What are you after, I wonder? With you being the Princess of Friendship, I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt as far as your intentions go.” 

“Friends with benefit of the doubt.” As she spoke, Twilight rolled her eyes and then ended her sentence with a punctuative snort. “I think it is time to turn this conversation into something a bit more meaningful, Sundance. More than enough time has been spent breaking the ice and getting to know one another. We have business, you and I, so let’s discuss it, shall we?” 
> Take this, it is dangerous to go alone
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight Sparkle wanted to get down to business, but the infant in the crib had other plans. First there was a cranky gurgle, and then this was followed up with a shrill cry. Clucking her tongue, Twilight lifted the upset tot from her crib and held her up at eye-level. Unsatisfied with this response, the infant shrieked, again and again, all while Twilight made soothing shushing sounds. 

To no avail. With the tiny tot wailing like a siren, Twilight cradled the irritated infant in the crook of her foreleg, but this did no good. While cautiously holding her breath, Twilight’s eyes almost crossed as she peered down the length of her muzzle and checked the white cloth diaper wrapped around the foal’s tiny backside, but the diaper didn’t seem to be the issue. Now, at least to Sundance’s eyes, Twilight seemed both flustered and disappointed. Why disappointed? He didn’t know why, but he knew what his eyes told him. 

“Oh come on, give me a break. I have to work, you know. Please don’t be unreasonable.” 

In response, the tiny unicorn filly showed Twilight just how unreasonable she could be, and somehow, the volume of her cries more than doubled. Distraught, Twilight bounced the foal around, but this showed no signs of working. When Twilight went still, the filly cried even harder, and all four of her tiny legs began to thrash and kick around. Sundance, patient as always, waited in silence, but then Twilight looked at him in a funny way, an expression that he found he didn’t like. Not at all. It was worrisome when an alicorn looked at you in that way that she looked at him right now, which couldn’t be described, except that it was unique to alicorns. 

“Here,” said Twilight while she levitated the squalling, shrieking tyke over to Sundance. “Your purpose is life. Here is a life. See what you can do.” 

Twilight then let go of the infant. 

In something of a panic, Sundance almost fell out of his chair to catch her before she dropped to the floor, and he reminded himself that babies were fragile. His forelegs formed something of a cradle, and he brought the tot to rest against his now-heaving barrel. Oh, how his heart raced as his brain showed him horrific visions of the consequences had he failed to catch the wailing, squealing, squalling filly. 

But, mere seconds after he held her, a most curious thing happened. She stopped crying. Oh, she still heaved, her breathing heavy, but she was too busy looking up at him to cry. Unaware of what had happened exactly, he gently rocked the troubled tot from side to side while trying to decide what to do next. When he glanced up at Twilight, he noticed that she had an intense stare of interest directed at him. 

“Fascinating,” she said while Sundance looked her in the eye. “As I suspected.” 

“Huh?” 

“Magic has roots,” Twilight said, which failed to explain anything. “Every purpose, every talent, it has a root, and from this root there comes a great many forks. From life, we get all of the aspects of life, such as parenthood and caretaking and education and even aspects of love. Now, the further your purpose or your talent forks away from the primary root, the more specialised and focused it becomes, until it becomes quite a narrow thing. But… the closer you get to the root, the broader and broader your purpose or talent becomes. 

“So with having life as a purpose, you also have all of the associated forks that branch off from that influence, in a manner of speaking. Parenthood being one of them.” Twilight’s expression soured. “It’s not fair. Not at all. What I wouldn’t give for the power to calm and quiet a fussy foal. Lemon Hearts can do it too, but her purpose is motherhood, or more specifically, parenthood. She’s a nurturer. It seems to me that you have the knack as well.” 

“I don’t understand anything that you just said,” Sundance admitted whilst he rocked the still-fussy filly. 

“Using Lemon Hearts as an example, she has a knack for parenthood. Now, parenthood has a rather broad set of skills that go with it. Caretaking and education, for example. Lemon Hearts is a remarkable teacher, even if she says she isn’t. She is also an incredible caretaker. Lemon is quite good at all of the forks that fall below parenthood in the hierarchy of purpose.” 

As much as Sundance wanted to understand, he didn’t; he couldn’t even pretend. 

“Celestia’s purpose is Life, so she is good at everything that branches off from life, every conceivable aspect. Yes, I know it seems abstract, but I assure you, I know how these things connect, due to the unique nature of my very existence.” Smiling, she drew in a deep breath and added, “When you calm down and aren’t in mortal terror, this will make sense to you. I assure you, I would not have let you drop that which is most precious to me. She was never in any danger. But you… you have learned something about yourself, have you not?” 

He nodded, but wasn’t sure what he’d just learned. 

“Pegasus ponies typically have purposes related to war, not life. I must say, this is puzzling. Celestia will want to hear about this. For you to be connected to life itself, for that to be your purpose… well, certain things not clear to you but clear to me suddenly make a lot more sense. War is the way of pegasus ponies. They’re good at it. Well, war and weather.” 

He thought of his mother, and finally, he began to relax a bit. His mother would be proud that he didn’t drop the baby. She might even say she was proud, which was a rare, treasured thing. Officer Mom was probably connected to war, in whatever way Twilight mentioned. When Twilight’s brows furrowed and deep creases appeared above her brows, but below her horn, Sundance looked down at the foal who stared up at him. 

“Of course, it is of great curiousity to me that war is one of the forks that branches off from life. I don’t fully understand it, but it is what it is. War ends lives… which I suppose is an aspect of living. Celestia just so happens to be very, very good at war. Not sure if this is ironic.” 

“Might I ask what your talent and purpose are?” 

Much to Sundance’s surprise, Twilight was caught off guard. She was quick to recover however, and he saw a coy smile grace her withered, injured muzzle. Mischief glittered in her eyes once more, and her ears pricked with excited interest. She was thinking, Twilight, and he wondered what she thought about. Perhaps she was carefully thinking of an answer, a means to respond without actually revealing anything. 

“Well, you could say that both my purpose and talent happens to be magic… or more specifically, that my talent is the magic that derives from friendship. And that would be accurate enough to be true.” 

Sundance waited: there was a but lurking in the bushes of the conversation. 

“But, more specifically, my talent is the understanding of the interconnectivity of magic. Symbiotic magic. Merged magic… which just so happens to work at its very best when there is a foundation of trust… which could be called loyalty.” She paused for a time, thoughtful. “Each of the Elements that we have are necessary to the casting of symbiotic magic. Sympathetic, shared magic. Friends are more likely to make these complex magics work than two casual acquaintances trying to cast a spell together. Earth ponies are a powerful example of this, as they have unique passive magics that they perform without even thinking about them, but the potency of this magic comes from mutual affection, love, and trust of one another.” 

There was a heavy sigh from Twilight, she shook her head, and continued, “Magic is diminishing. Well, sort of. There is a finite amount of magic and the more creatures that connect to what is available means there is less for all. This might feel pretty hopeless, but friendship is the way forwards. Friends will be able to cast powerful magic together. Powerful magic isn’t lost, but rather, at least in my opinion, it has become gated. Unicorns once had the means and power to destroy the world. Now, that is a little less likely, and friendship might be seen as an engine of survival. This is a new era of magical discovery… the Age of Friendship.” 

In silence, Sundance considered this, and he figured out that he was calm enough now that his wits had returned. Coming from anypony else, all of this talk might have sounded crazy, but this was the Princess of Friendship—so it didn’t sound crazy at all, but sensible. The infant in his embrace cooed up at him, and waggled her forelegs. 

“Future Star Swirls will require a bevy of friends to bolster their power.” Twilight closed her eyes, thoughtful. “Such a collection of friends and all that support will make it harder for them to take a wrong turn. They’ll be less likely to turn to evil.” Her eyes opened and were now lined with terrifying black spiderwebs, like bloodshot eyes, but curiously black. “All those conditions that enable evil will be combated. Loneliness will be held off by fellowship. Arrogance and pride will be kept in check with humility. Evil will find it quite difficult to thrive under these conditions.” 

She blinked and the inky black lines went away. 

“Magic wants life to continue, not end. It will shepherd us, and find a way. Perhaps celebrating the connection that binds all living things will be the way forward.” She blinked again, several times, and seemed to be recovering herself. Her pupils were luminously black now, pools of endless depth whose shape fluctuated wildly. They became sun shaped, then star shaped, and then took on the curious shape of crescent moons. After this was a flood of progression, an endless parade of shapes that changed at such speeds that they became a blur. 

Sundance realised that each shape represented a mark, a purpose, and was in awe. 

Twilight, just like her mentor, was a terrifying creature that he could barely comprehend, yet he took comfort in their existence. Celestia was Life and Twilight was Magic. The engines of survival and the means through which life continued. He thought of Luna, wondered about her place in all of this, and then somehow knew that Luna was Life as well. How he knew was unknown to him, but he trusted his flash of insight. He was in the presence of the divine at the moment, as evidenced by Twilight’s everchanging pupils, which flashed an endless progression of purposes. 

Twilight’s inkblot pupils formed a mark: his mark. Mesmerised, he heard her say, “A land left fallow now grows. New life prospers in ancient soil.” 

He was spared from having to find some way to respond by the infant in his embrace. She gurgled, cooed, gurgled once more, wiggled about, and just as he glanced down to see if she was fine, she sneezed. Not any mere common sneeze, no, but a mighty blast that was far too large to have come from one so small. With this sneeze came a stream of confetti and one tiny strand of pink ribbon, all of which concerned him greatly. No wonder this tot was sick: she had confetti up her nose. 

“What’s the matter, Sundance? Never seen a foal sneeze confetti before?” 

He lifted his head, but then decided that he should keep an eye on the foal in his care. But then he had second thoughts and perhaps it was better to watch Twilight. His brain couldn’t commit to either, and his eyes bounced up and down in their sockets while he tried to determine which was of greater importance. Poor Sundance, he was just a pegasus surrounded by things that he had no hope of ever understanding. As if to drive this point home, the filly sneezed again, and left his face dusted with tiny motes of confetti. 

“It’s not contagious,” Twilight said in a manner that was not at all reassuring. 

At least her eyes were normal again, though he wasn’t sure when the change had taken place. Probably at some point when his eyes bobbed up and down, uncertain of where to look. Twilight was mischievous—though not as mischievous as her mentor could be—and entirely too gleeful during this moment of abstract chaos. Sundance began to suspect that Twilight was no longer a pony: oh, she was pony-shaped, that much was for certain—but the equinity of alicorns was now a subject open for debate in his mind. 

“She gets that from her mother,” Twilight said, still radiating mischievous glee. “Her sibling has the same problem. I’ll confess, the first time I saw it, I was alarmed by it. Now, it is just one of the many odd quirks that Pinkie has passed along.” 

A sane pony might have run, but Sundance remained in his seat. Though unnerved, unsettled even, he was in this for the long haul. Twilight’s favour was necessary for his barony’s long-term survival and good fortune. He snorted to blow the confetti from his nose, and rocked the sneezy filly to keep her calm. 

“How about we discuss business over lunch?” asked Twilight. “It’ll be an early lunch, sure, but I’m suddenly ravenous, and the afternoon promises to be a long one. Yes, lunch sounds good, doesn’t it?” 
> Hayburger helper
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight Sparkle had all of the tell-tale signs of being a good mom. Sundance sort of watched her, it felt wrong to observe such private moments. Mostly, he looked at the dining room, which was small, intimate, and just like the previous room, rather plain. The only decorations on the walls were the artwork of small foals, crayon drawings and watercolours that needed extensive explanations to understand. Well, most of them; one of the pictures was a remarkably detailed carrot, which just so happened to be sticking out of the head of a six-legged stick-pony. The carrot was of exquisite detail, with rudimentary, somewhat crude shading. 

In the midst of his intense observations of the remarkably well-done carrot, Sundance noticed that he couldn’t find the source of light in this room. It was disturbing, really. The room was well-lit, but nothing, absolutely nothing cast a shadow. Everything was bathed in light, though there was no obvious lightsource. With the carrot now the furthest thing from his mind, Sundance tried to figure out this disconcerting mystery, because the lack of shadows felt most unnatural to him. 

“Is something bothering you?” asked Twilight whilst she bounced the gurgling infant. 

“No shadows in this room. At all.” 

“Sorry about that… the illusory shadows haven’t been properly established yet.” Ears pivoted forward, Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “We had to eliminate every shadow in the castle. The rats kept making incursions. They appear in shadow, and can, at least in theory, teleport to anywhere there is shadow. So all the darkness in the castle is now artificial… illusion. Mostly done by Trixie Lulamoon.” 

“So the shadows I saw in the other rooms and the dark closet, none of those were real?” 

“Did it feel real?” asked Twilight. 

“I fear I don’t know what real is anymore.” 

“Reality tends to be whatever Trixie makes it to be.” Ears now splayed out in a more neutral position, Twilight looked down at the wiggling filly in her protective embrace. “It’s quite malleable, you know. If the senses believe something is real, it is. Trixie can cast illusory fireballs that aren’t real but cause real burns… and even death. Though the flames do no damage to inanimate objects.” 

More than a little intrigued, Sundance wanted to know how this worked. “How is that possible?”

In response, Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know. To be honest, and at the risk of damaging my all-knowing mystique, I barely understand it. Illusion magics and I just don’t get along.” 

“It’s a little unsettling.” He hoped he wasn’t being rude when he mentioned this. When he lifted up his spoon with his wing, he saw nothing beneath it, not even the merest hint of shadow. It was the sort of thing that almost made his head hurt, and he couldn’t help but feel a little stupid. 

“When fighting the lich, Dim made the illusion of sunshine. The ceiling cracked open, stone blocks fell away, and the sun came shining in. Now, there was absolutely no ultraviolet light, but the lich still burst into flames and took extensive damage. The lich was so panicked that it could no longer cast spells, but ran around shrieking while trying to extinguish itself. I was able to finish the undead abomination off because it ceased all efforts to fight and focused on self-preservation.” 

Unable to do anything else, Sundance sat there, blinking in astonishment. 

“I might be the Element of Magic, but there is magic that I don’t understand,” Twilight remarked. “Illusion might not even be magic… at times, I believe it is an advanced form of psychology that is beyond my comprehension. At least, I tell myself this to ease the sting of my own shortcomings.” 

“Why tell me this?” asked Sundance. 

After a prolonged moment of silence, Twilight’s expression turned thoughtful. “I want us to be friends,” she said slowly and with each word carefully spoken. “Celestia cultivates an air of all-knowingness. She’s mystical, aloof, and a bit of a goof. You will never quite know where you stand with her, because she wants to keep you guessing. 

“For my own ends, I need for us to be friends. For my brilliant plans to work, I need you to trust me. For you to trust me, you need to know that I am not all-knowing, all-seeing, and that I am fallible. Do my shortcomings make me relatable? Have I won just a small measure of your trust? If not, then I have some work to do.” 

Princess Celestia a bit of a goof? Sundance mused over Twilight’s words while absentmindedly flipping a spoon into the air with his wing. It was a marvellous display of dexterity and the fact that he did it without thinking or looking made it extra-impressive. Up and down it went, caught and thrown with skilled primaries that never missed, never fumbled. Twilight too, was a bit of a goof, but an upfront, forthright one. 

“Just what is that big plan?” he asked. 

“Lunch first, then proposal,” was Twilight’s terse response. 

“Fair enough.” To prevent his inquisitiveness from getting the best of him, Sundance changed the subject and asked, “So if an alicorn reflects their nature, what might a pegasus-focused alicorn look like?” 

Twilight’s head lifted and her gaze leveled on Sundance. “Why, Prince Gosling of course. Thin. Slight. Aerodynamic and built for speed. Not that different from the standard alicorn body-form. Cadance embodied it when she was younger… back in the days when she was my foalsitter. She strove for balance though, and achieved a semblance of it.” 

“Aren’t you worried that you are out of balance?” Too late, Sundance realised that his words might be offensive only after he’d said them. 

If Twilight was offended, she didn’t show it. Instead, she laughed, a hearty chuckle that echoed through the mostly empty room. She said nothing—but she didn’t need to say anything at all. Right before Sundance’s eyes, her body began to change shape. Her muzzle narrowed, became slender and shapely. Above her muzzle, her eyes enlarged and took on a new form. Twilight’s ears elongated, but the withered ear remained injured, as did the rest of her face. Her body changed, grew slender, her forelegs turned willowy, elegant, graceful. The transformation was smooth, gradual, beautiful, and not at all unsettling. 

“Celestia can change her appearance with illusion, but I can change my body through sheer will. It’s a trick that even Celestia can’t do… not in the same way that I manage it. As the embodiment of magic, I’ve become something of a metamorph.” As she spoke, her horn vanished, shrinking away into her forehead until it was gone completely. “This body is crude matter, a mere reflection of what is within.” Twilight was something that was almost a pegasus now, but that was changing too. “I don’t even need to be a pony. Transmutation is an awesome power… with it, I can turn rocks into magnificent top hats, apples into carriages, and my body becomes anything I desire it to be. Not an illusory form… but wholly real.” 

“Isn’t that just making you more hungry?” Sundance focused a critical eye on Twilight and watched as her body flowed into new forms. It was impressive magic, though he lacked the imagination to understand how useful it might be. For him, it was a magic trick, and a spectacular one at that. 

Much to his surprise, Twilight nodded. 

“I do hope that lunch hurries up,” she said while her body continued to reshape. “I’m famished!” 



 

The foal grew fussy once more, as foals were wont to do, and Sundance watched as Twilight prepared to feed the irritated tot a bottle. More confetti was sneezed out, a few screeches were made, and the disgruntled infant smacked the bottle away with her front hooves. Exasperated but patient, Twilight tried again, though this time she made reassuring promises. 

“It won’t be like last time, I promise. New formula. It’s a new formula—oh, what am I doing… you don’t know what I’m saying.” Shoulders slumped, Twilight sighed and shook her head while she tried to get the bottle past the filly’s tiny kicking legs. “Oh come on… I’m the one who stayed up all night with you while the gas passed. Don’t fight!” 

“What’s wrong?” Sundance immediately worried that he’d made the situation worse, because Twilight shot him a look that he couldn’t read. Frustration, perhaps. 

“She has an allergy to milk,” Twilight replied after recovering her composure. “Can’t nurse. It broke Pinkie’s heart. We keep experimenting with new types of synthetic formula, but a recent batch caused tummy troubles. Now she’s scared of the bottle.” 

“Want me to try?” he asked. 

First Twilight’s expression went blank, her ears went slack, and then her face turned deadpan. The filly kicked and thrashed, and with a sigh, Twilight looked down at the fidgety foal left in her care. Sundance saw something different with Twilight now; she wasn’t a princess, or an alicorn, but a tired mother in need of help. He saw this often with Hollyhock and Express Delivery. 

Without warning, the filly was dumped into his care once more, and the bottle set down beside his empty plate in front of him. Twilight seemed sulky, or maybe defeated. She sat with her forelegs crossed over her barrel, and the corners of her mouth drooped into a saggy frown. Maybe this would be easy-peasy. Perhaps some sort of magical knack would kick in. Extending his wing, he picked up the bottle, flipped it around nipple down, and moved in to feed. 

The bottle was kicked from his grasp and went flying. 

A second later, the bottle appeared upon the table, right where it began. Sundance picked it up once more, flipped it nipple side down, and this time, he made silly faces to distract the filly while he maneuvered the bottle closer. Everything was going according to plan, until she sneezed out a blast of confetti that almost blinded him. While he was still in recovery, she noticed the bottle and kicked it free from his primaries a second time. 

With a glittery flash of light, the bottle appeared upon the table. 

This time, he didn’t reach for the bottle. Not right away. No, he waited, and bounced the filly up and down, because she seemed to like that, if her coos were to be trusted. What might his mother say? This was a side of himself that he did not expect. He rather liked this, though perhaps it was the newness of it, the novelty. There were newborns back home that he sometimes cared for, briefly, and he never minded. But this was somehow different—it awoke something within him, something he liked, something he felt good about. 

“Confetti shot out of both ends,” Twilight remarked. “She’s just like her mother. If you think you know your friends, Sundance, wait until they have kids. You’ll start noticing all kinds of traits you somehow failed to notice before. It’s quite a thing.” 

Sundance felt his scalp tighten. “Both ends?” When he picked up the bottle, he did so without confidence. 

“Both ends.” She nodded while this was said, and her eyes grew distant. “The best thing that friends can do is settle down and raise a family together.” Her eyes grew even more unfocused. “Sure, it’s not a romance story like my brother and Cadance. But that doesn’t make it any less important. When you do settle down, Sundance, I hope it is with a friend. Romance is fine… great even. But friendship is good too.” 

When he tried to give the fussy filly her bottle, it was once more kicked away. 



 

The door opened and Sundance looked up from the filly that hesitantly suckled. Across the table, Twilight’s ears pricked, and for a brief second, her slender orange tongue was visible when she licked her lips. Beyond the door, there was a unicorn, white of pelt, with a pink, orange, and blue mane. Bespectacled, somewhat annoyed, and pulling a wooden cart behind her, she shuffled into the room whilst she muttered to herself. 

Right away, the room smelled strongly of mouthwatering grease and salt. 

“I kept everything hot and fresh while it was processed,” the young unicorn mare said as she trudged to the table with the wooden cart behind her. “I still think that you should just decree that Hayseed’s Hayburgers open up a franchise right here in your castle.” 

Somewhat embarrassed, Twilight dismissed these words with a casual wave of her right front hoof. “Miss Strudel, this is Lord Sundance.” Her head bobbed. “Sundance, this is Miss Strudel. She’s quite a find.” 

Just as he was about to respond, he noticed the young mare’s mark: a toaster of shiny, glinty chrome. This distracted him for a moment, but he was quick to recover. “When you say quite a find, am I to understand that you’re trying to set us up? Are we to be friends, or something else entirely?” 

There was a snort, and then Twilight’s face turned a darker shade of princessly purple. “Oh… oh goodness… oh, no, I didn’t mean that. No no, Sundance… I couldn’t let you take her away from me. She might very well be my Raven. Which is what makes her quite a find. Miss Strudel is my assistant. My helper. My—” 

“Her hayburger handler,” the young mare deadpanned. “I joined CivServe to make a difference and what do I end up doing?” Her eyes narrowed whilst her ears pitched forwards. “I fetch hayburgers by the dozen and keep them warm.” 

“And you do an excellent job, Miss Strudel.” 

“I don’t have an assistant.” Sundance said his thoughts aloud whilst his eyes lingered upon the gleaming chrome toaster. It was spectacularly shiny for a cutie mark, and he wondered if some strange magic made it so eye-catching. 

“Would you like one?” Miss Strudel asked. 

“No!” There was panic in Twilight’s voice and she waved her forelegs around. “No, this isn’t what I intended at all!” 

Lifting a brown bag that glistened with grease from the cart, Miss Strudel placed it upon the table. Then, she lifted another bag, and another, followed by several more. She could have easily lifted them all at once, but she made a show of it, all while smirking in Sundance’s general direction. He found himself rather in awe of her confidence and subtle snark, which he supposed were valuable qualities indeed if Twilight wished to keep her. 

“Everything has a lingering enchantment to keep it piping hot,” the bespectacled young mare said. “The hayburgers, the wheat-meat nuggets, the hay tacos, and the fried apple pies. If anything gets cold, gross, or soggy, summon me. I can make things toasty. That’s what I do. Who would have thought that a living toaster would end up working for a princess? I certainly didn’t.” 

While all of this was intriguing, Sundance was curious about something else. “What’s CivServe?” 

“Oh that.” Miss Strudel’s eyes twinkled with mischievous glee. “That is a Crown-sponsored agency that young mares join to find a husband. At the time, I wasn’t doing anything else with my life. I was poor, unschooled, untrained, and the Crown changed all that. Now, instead of working a dead-end job like frying hayburgers, I instead bring hayburgers to a hungry, hungry princess… and occasionally, I burn intruders in the castle to a crisp. After all, a toaster is just a death ray with an inadequate power setting.” 

“I also stumbled into a government job,” Sundance said to the smirking young mare that set everything out on the table and made it presentable. “Completed a genealogy project that showcased my skills as a natural-born beaurocrat.” 

“Oh, this is nice.” There was relief in Twilight’s voice. “You two are friends. How wonderful. Friendship is good… an admirable end. Whew.” 

“Still looking for a husband?” asked Sundance, which caused Twilight to audibly gulp. “I mean, is that still what you want?” 

Miss Strudel clucked her tongue and shook her head from side to side. “Not at the moment. CivServe’s training and education convinced me that I had value. That I am worthy. It put my eyes on the future and gave me a sense of… professionalism?” Here, she paused for a time, her head tilted off to one side, and she spent a moment in thought. “I have something to offer the world. Me… a nopony from the ghettos of Las Pegasus. Twilight”—she pointed at the flustered-but-proud alicorn slouched in her chair—“sees value in me. I am indispensable to her work. Not bad for a nopony.” 

Much to his own surprise, Sundance discovered and realised that he could talk to mares now. This fact sank into his brain like a dropped anvil. No longer was he the awkward colt he was in school—he was something else entirely. At some point, he’d grown up, and in doing so, he’d changed. His confidence soared as high as the noonday sun and he felt good about things: life, himself, his general existence. Even more exciting was the fact that the mares he spoke to seemed to like him and wanted to converse with him. 

He was sorely tempted to show Miss Strudel his wingspan. 

Instead of making a fool of himself by showing his wings to a unicorn, he chose a far more cerebral approach. “The big city has a way of making you feel worthless. I did delivery work, but I couldn’t see any sort of future in that. There’s always delivery work for pegasus ponies, but that’s not much of a future unless you somehow get lucky. Factory work seemed like a dead end. I am totally unsuited for police work.” 

“I know what you mean,” Miss Strudel replied. “Honestly, I thought my best future was getting married. But the local options for husbands lacked appeal. Prostitution is always an option… I guess… but not for me. I couldn’t degrade myself like that. There’s a reason why I didn’t marry some gangster or some cheap hoodlum. I couldn’t see any sort of future for myself.” After a pause, she added, “It’s bleak. There’s no choices, just survival.” 

“Which is why I asked Sundance to come today.” Almost smiling, Twilight tapped her front hooves together. “Both of you are aware of the problems we face. Princess Celestia specifically chose Sundance because of his experience in the inner-city. This is the same reason as to why I chose you, Miss Strudel. If I am to implement solutions, I need to be able to understand the problem.” 

Eyes now wide, ears pricked at attention, with all of her snark gone on a sudden, unannounced vacation, Miss Strudel’s attention focused on Twilight. For a moment, she seemed as though she might say something, but that moment passed with nothing said. As if by magic, Miss Strudel somehow seemed more youthful—younger in some mysterious way—and there was a great deal of emotion to be seen in her eyes. 

“I cannot possibly secure Equestria’s future on my own.” After a solemn sigh, Twilight’s ears fell down and came to rest against the sides of her face. “Celestia is busy ensuring our world has a future, and that’s a mighty big job. Luna deals with all of the threats that lurk within our own borders, as well as a host of supernatural otherworldly threats. Gosling has declared war on poverty, and his goals align with my own… though at times, his goals seem more focused than my own. 

“Cadance and Shining Armor deal with the consequences of securing the world’s future and the war against our great enemy, Grogar. Blueblood maintains the eyes and ears of our nation”—she hesitated for a moment, grimaced, all while she shook her head—“his job might actually be more complicated than my own, and he’s working with an even smaller pool of resources. I feel bad for Blueblood. As for Dim… well, I’m not actually allowed to speak of his job.” 

At the mention of Dim’s name, Miss Strudel shivered violently and Sundance wondered why. 

“Is something wrong, Miss Strudel?” asked Twilight. 

“I’ve heard stories about Dim.” 

“I’m sure you have.” Deep furrows appeared upon Twilight’s brows. 

“Is it true… is he a wraith?” 

A tremendous amount of air whooshed out of Twilight Sparkle, which made a brief raspberry, followed by a frustrated sigh. “He’s not undead. Celestia would never tolerate such a thing. Miss Strudel, you’ve met him. Did he seem undead to you?” 

“Maybe just a little,” the young mare replied whilst she shuffled from side to side. 

Eyes rolling, another exasperated sigh escaped Twilight. 

“He’s very creepy,” Miss Strudel said in her own defense. 

“I don’t think the Lord of Nightmares should be normal.” Twilight’s right and left front hooves waved about as if they had a mind of their own. “Equestria needs solutions if it is to have a future. The both of you will be an asset. It is serendipitous that the two of you get along, and because of that, Miss Strudel, I’ll probably have you act as my liaison for all those times when I can’t meet with Sundance in pony.” 

“I’d like that.” This was said with an enthusiastic bob of the young mare’s head. 

“There’s still a lot to be accomplished today… I’d best get started.” 
> Twilight's plan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ravenous beyond words, and hungry for junk food, Sundance feared that his table manners might be inadequate. Twilight was tucking the sleepy filly into her crib and Sundance was somewhat sad to have the tiny tot taken away from him. Miss Strudel—also known as Toaster Strudel—joined them for lunch at Twilight’s insistence. Since he would be working with her in the near future, Sundance looked forward to getting to know the consummate professional that he shared much in common with. 

Young and inexperienced though he was, Sundance knew that something big was happening, some great momentous thing that he could hardly comprehend. It was like the time a newspaper reporter discovered that the newly-elected mayor of Baltimare was cheating on his wife with his long-time secretary. A week later, the mayor resigned in shame after many cries demanding his resignation. About a month after that, the disgraced mayor took his own life as further investigations revealed even more crooked wrongdoings. 

This was somehow bigger than that. Though his own role in this seemed insignificant, he was about to do something historic with Twilight Sparkle, who had some grand, brilliant plan, some way to save Equestria before what was sure to be its inevitable collapse. He was content to have some small role in all of this, whatever this was, and Twilight could have all the glory as the architect. Sundance’s aims were far, far more simple: he wanted his grandmother to be happy with him. 

Of course, Equestria fell down rather regularly. There was the whole incident with Mister Mariner that happened when Sundance was young. The stock market took a bit of a tumble not all that long after, and while Sundance was too young to truly understand what was going on, most of the adults around him believed that the end was near. That end, such as it was, was somehow narrowly avoided—but it was a reminder of what could happen, one of the many things that might happen. Money was a real danger to all. Of course, Sundance, as poverty-stricken as he was, didn’t worry about it too much, because there was so little to lose. But his mother sure worried. 

“No”—Twilight’s head turned from side to side in a manner that utterly failed to convey authority—“no, you’re not allowed to cry or be fussy. Mommy is working. Now hush up and go to sleep, you adorable little fussnoodle. No… don’t you do it. I know you want to sleep. You eat and then you go into a coma, because that is what you do. Don’t disappoint me. No… no… no—oh, there she goes. Whew.” 

“Is she asleep?” asked Miss Strudel. 

To which Twilight replied, “Out like a light. Now I can eat!” 

And eat she did. Much to Sundance’s shock, awe, and surprise, Twilight Sparkle ate. Without saying a word, she shrunk a huge hayburger down into a barely-bitesize morsel, popped it into her mouth, gave it a few rough chews, and then swallowed. Just watching this left Sundance feeling rather inadequate. A mere fraction of a second later, this process was repeated, and another hayburger vanished into Twilight’s ravenous maw. Alicorns were not natural creatures, he decided while he watched a third hayburger get gobbled. 

Somehow, he knew. He knew. He knew and it terrified him that he knew. The shrunken hayburgers had all of their nutritional value and calories. They were the same as the large hayburgers, but smaller, and easier to eat. Twilight could just as well shrink them down to the size of a grain of sand and then swallow them, but Sundance supposed that she wanted some minimal enjoyment of her food, at least. She settled into a routine rhythm that made hayburgers vanish every few seconds, just like clockwork. 

In stunned silence, Sundance took a dainty, polite bite of his hayburger. 

It was salty, greasy bliss. Everything he missed from living in the city. Because of Miss Strudel’s magic, it was both piping hot and fresh, as if it had been just prepared. Nothing about it was soggy or gross—somehow even the greens survived intact. What curious magic was this? The batter that formed the hay pattie was particularly crispy, chewy, and flavourful. His second bite was not nearly so polite as his ravenous desire overcame him. 

The sheer pleasure on Twilight’s face was almost dangerously erotic—which was quite a feat really, given how her face was withered from necromantic magics. Sundance tried to think of his mother, but the mental image of her authoritative sneer caused him to shiver. His father wasn’t much help either, because the mental image of his father hurried away from the troubled situation and went into hiding. As a last ditch resort, he thought of his grandmother—but all she did was laugh and that was no help at all. 

Watching another pony eat could very well turn into yet another fetish, and Sundance just didn’t need that sort of complication when he was still trying to sort himself out. He thought of his school-age self and wondered how the younger, immature version of himself might react to this situation. Little Sundance was smaller, had stubby wings, legs that were too long for his body, and a snoot that was way too big for his face. Now, he’d grown into his snoot and the stilts he called legs and—what was he thinking about again? 

Confused, Sundance took a huge bite of his hayburger and gave it a thoughtful chew. 

After swallowing, Twilight paused for a moment, patted her barrel with her right front hoof, and it was obvious to any observer that she stifled a belch. With that done and out of the way, she said, “When I woke up this morning, I was so certain of how this would go. I had my pitch practiced. All the right words were ready and waiting to be said. There was a plan ready to be followed. But so much has changed already. Now I am unsure of what to say or how to even start, because the subject is so immense. And as always, there is that little niggle of doubt that never seems to go away.” 

She sighed. 

“If I can’t make a plan that can survive till lunch, then what chance does my plan for Equestria have?” Eyes downcast, Twilight lowered her right hoof down to the table. “So many variables. I used to be so confident in my ability to plan. When I was younger, there were times when I found myself wondering why Celestia didn’t just plan better, and it is only now that I find myself in her position”—her words trailed off for a moment and her ears fell limp—“now I find myself wondering if there is some young version of me that asks why don’t I plan better. It’s humbling.” 

With a sigh, her head turned and she gazed down into the crib. Sundance saw her face contort for a moment, some overwhelming emotion, though he knew not what it was, or even what it might be. Something painful though, from the looks of it. It was a vulnerable moment though, one that showed that Twilight, for all of her strangeness, was still equine in nature. 

“This is where parenthood backfires,” Twilight murmured. “If I fail, if this plan goes horribly awry, she’s the one who will suffer for it. She will live in the future made from my mistakes.” For a time, Twilight’s eyes were sad, but with a single blink, they turned hard and flinty. “Buck up, Twilight.” 

As tiny fires ignited in Twilight’s eyes, she shrank a taco down into a bite-sized morsel, which she then flicked into her mouth. There was a crunch, another crunch, and then soft, susurrus chewing. Sundance could feel the pressure building—not gas, which was always a concern as a pegasus, but the weight of the situation began to bear down upon him. Twilight was not Celestia, but something about this was reassuring for Sundance. Whatever trouble that might come from this, they would face it together. 

Without realising it, Sundance had already committed himself to Twilight’s plan, whatever it might be. Celestia was aloof, but Twilight was relatable, and her sense of emotion appealing. He found himself quite moved by her reactions and the fact that she did nothing to hide it. Distracted, he nipped at his food and savoured the greasy goodness. 

“The both of you know what our coastal cities are like. They are nothing like central Equestria… which is almost like travelling back in time.” Wearing a stern expression, she lifted up a second taco, shrank it, and then spent a few seconds examining it. “Both of you have awareness that I lack.” She then tossed the tiny taco into her mouth and began to chew. 

After she swallowed, she said, “I had such an eloquent speech prepared. Rousing and soul-stirring. Such a waste of time.” A quick inhale acted as a pause. “ Sundance, you recently turned your barony into a corporation. Were I to hazard a guess, would your plan be to share your profits with your subjects?” 

Mouth full, he nodded. 

“And how would you feel if I asked you to not do that?” 

At the worst possible moment, Sundance’s brain went utterly and completely blank. Was he scared? He might be. Just what was Twilight asking? What was she about to ask? Surely Twilight wanted his peasants to prosper, so why would she ask him to keep them poor? Everything was now topsy-turvy; up was down, down was left, left was up, and nothing was right. These were unknown skies to him, with only Twilight as his guide. 

“When Celestia appointed me to this position, I wanted to do away with money altogether. I was pretty stupid back then. Too confident and secure in my own intelligence.” Her eyes rolled as her ears twitched. “It pains me to say it, but we need money. At least for now. Until something better comes along. Which I am not wholly convinced that it will. My speech had a much better segue into all of this.” 

A cold trickle of sweat dripped down the back of Sundance’s neck, and flowed into the groove of one of his scars. The fact that Twilight was nervous made him nervous too, but her determination in the face of such uncertainty was admirable. He watched as another hayburger was consumed and he took a bite of his own, which was almost gone. 

“I want your barony to remain cashless,” she said plainly. “But not poverty stricken. My plan hinges on everypony being well-provided for and having a high quality of life, with every conceivable need met. Sundance, I need your barony to be a paradise of sorts, a place of promise.

“No doubt, you are wondering why. Well, I’ll get around to that. For now, let’s talk about life in Equestria’s major coastal cities. Wages are stagnant, for the most part. Rent is out of control. Poverty is increasing, in spite of our best efforts. And the worst part of all, there is very little in the way of alternatives. Because there are so few options, landlords and employers have no motivation to make the situation better. Which means that things will only get worse.” 

“Yeah.” Sundance’s response was simple, perfunctory, and all he could think of to say. 

“So… what if there were an alternative?” asked Twilight. She leaned forward, her eyes bright, eager, and her ears rose tall over her face. “Alternatives are greatly needed. Not every pony is suited for the rat race. Our world is rapidly progressing. There are ponies whose marks offer them no future. There are marks whose career options are now swept away by progress. What future do they have? And that… I see that as the problem. 

“A pony has no choice but to try and make things work in order to survive. They become trapped in a cycle of perpetual poverty. Enough money is made to barely pay rent, but nothing else. This is not living.” She pressed her front hooves together. “That’s not even survival. That’s being a resource. A lump of coal to power some incomprehensible machine. And that… that needs to stop. I’ll not have my ponies treated as mere resources.” 

“So how can I and my barony help?” Unaware of his own actions, Sundance licked his lips clean and then he too leaned over the table to look Twilight in the eye. 

“We offer an alternative,” Twilight replied. “A place to go. A choice. A different lifestyle.” She drew in a deep breath, held it for a short time, and then continued. “A place to go where every need is met and there is a life to be lived. Now, this will not suit everypony. But it will give many the means to escape. More importantly though, this changes the dynamic. It changes how the system works. 

“If ponies begin to leave the cities in droves in search of a better life, factories will go empty. There will be a shortage of workers. Apartments will also empty, and landlords will receive no rent. If factories want workers, and landlords want tenants, they will have no choice but to make things appealing. Wages will have to rise to lure ponies back into the cities. Housing will have to be affordable. With an alternative available, there will be no more take it or leave it. I’d like to introduce a bit of competition into the market.” 

Astonished, Sundance found himself at a lack for words. 

“The cities are where we have most of our advancements. Financial competition breeds creativity and innovation. There is something to be said for the crunch, and there are ponies who thrive under these conditions. I say, we’ll leave the cities to them. For those not suited to this sort of life, there will be a means of escape. A way out. They’ll no longer be forced to be cogs in the machine.”

“Will this work?” asked Sundance, still astonished by all he heard. 

“No idea,” Twilight was quick to reply. “I have no clue if this will work. Which is why it is a gamble. Central Equestria has a lot of available space… and you… you have the most available space of all the Clock Face Fiefdoms. Not only do you have one of the largest tracts of land, but there is almost no development. It’s all wilderness or ruin. It is my belief that, working together, the Clock Face Fiefdoms can provide a worthwhile life for those who decide the rat race just isn’t their thing.” 

This was beyond him, but he carefully considered Twilight’s words. 

“An Equestria in two parts,” the pensive alicorn said whilst she tapped her front hooves together. “One part is commercially and industrially driven. A place of innovation and enterprise. For those most suited to that sort of life, it will be made available to them. The other part is for those who would otherwise be ground to grease in the gears. As rulers, Sundance, we owe them an existence. But to provide, we need ways and means. Resources. And probably money. The irony does not escape me.” 

Baffled, Sundance glanced over at Miss Strudel, then returned his gaze to Twilight. How was he to provide for so many? Surely the cities would empty. He would be overrun. It occurred to him after some thought that Twilight surely had a plan—perhaps some means to slow the flood to a trickle. The invisible circlet of rule that rested upon his brow had never been heavier or felt more real and solid than it did right now. His barony was not a city. Why, he didn’t even have township status, which he had applied for. 

“Sundance… you need to turn your barony into a financial colossus. I think that, in the long run, becoming a corporate entity was a smart move. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. You’ll be tax-exempt—” 

“Taxes?” he blurted out. 

“Oh, Celestia was going to give you some time to get on your hooves, but make no mistake, she had plans to levy taxes against you. Just a little bit more pressure to get you to perform. For me, taxation feels like a bad idea, if your business is ensuring Equestria’s continued existence. Every bit that is taken as taxes isn’t poured back into your barony and its residents. So I will guarantee tax-exemption status, so long as you work with me and assist me with my goals.” 

“I am no tycoon”—his head turned from side to side—“and have no head for money. No knowledge of… what… whatever it is that I am supposed to do to make money. How do you propose that I turn myself into a… a… a—”

“A financial colossus?” Wearing her best deadpan expression, Twilight rested her hooves upon the table. “You have friends, don’t you? Ask them for help. Find a way, Sundance. You have resources. Find something that your barony does well. Perhaps something that your barony does uniquely well. Something distinctive. Exploit that.” 

“This seems impossible.” 

“Beating Nightmare Moon also seemed impossible, but my friends and I managed.” 

“I think I’d rather pick a fight with Nightmare Moon… it somehow seems easier than what you’re asking me to do.” 

“Ah, but these acts share something in common,” Twilight said. “Saving Equestria.” 

“There is no guarantee that this works.” Sundance found himself quite overwhelmed and he struggled to find some way out of this. 

“And I could have failed to stop Nightmare Moon.” Her mouth split into a hard, unrelenting smile and Twilight lifted up a still-steaming hayburger. “You can tell me no. This is all about providing a choice for many—including you. If you want, you can say no and go home.” 

“While the world falls down around me…” 

The hayburger became small, bite-sized, and Twilight crammed it into her maw. Then she sat with her eyes locked on Sundance, and found himself at a loss for words. His choice would affect the choices of so many. It almost didn’t seem fair. Yet, here he was, having lunch with Twilight Sparkle, and it fell upon his withers to help decide the fate of millions. Just thinking about it caused him to feel faint, and his stomach lurched. 

He rather felt like throwing up. 

Across the table, Twilight wiped her mouth with her foreleg, not at all a princessly act, and she brought her princessly gaze to bear upon Sundance. She radiated majesty, but also mischievousness. He wondered what she saw in him, and he was curious about what potential she might see. She had called him here for a reason. If he was incapable as he believed, she wouldn’t have called him here, because that would be a waste of time. So it was easy to assume that she believed in him, even if he was uncertain of his own potential. 

“I have been to other worlds,” she said in a low voice. “Seen other futures. I’ve watched how quite a number of societies have played out. Seen how most of them ended. Celestia is wary about using their history to shape our own, but I hold the belief that we can still learn something from their mistakes. She trusts me… finally… to utilise a little of what I’ve learned in my observations. If you think you’re feeling the pressure… just imagine what I’m feeling. Should everything go horribly awry, I have to admit that I was wrong and Celestia was right. Which I’ve done plenty of times already, and it never gets any easier. Of course, there’s been times when Celestia was wrong, and I was right… which I suppose is the reason why we’re equals now.” 

He blinked. Yes, this was true. If they failed, they did so together. Her enigmatic words filled him with questions, but he had no idea how to inquire for answers. What might his mother say? His father? Oh, he could imagine what his mother might say. She had strong feelings about deadbeats, layabouts, and the dole. Officer Mom was a firm believer that welfare was social decay and would cause the collapse of civilisation. As for Sundance, he was no longer certain what he believed. All of the things that he was raised to believe in now seemed lacking. 

“Do you really believe that this will bring down the cost of rent and raise wages?” he asked. 

“I think that it might,” Twilight replied. 

“What if everypony just decides they are done with the city and leaves?” 

“Oh, I doubt that will happen. Pastoral life will appeal to some, but not all. Though it is my hope that, in time, you will have multiple cities within the boundaries of your barony.” 

“I won’t live to see the end result of all of this, will I?” 

“Probably not,” she replied. “But you get to lay down the foundation.” 

“I don’t like doing something that I’ll never have the answers for. The results?” Unsure of what to say, or how to say it, he wished that he’d chosen his words with a bit more care. “I’ll be doing all of this work, all of this effort, and I won’t get a chance to see how this ends, or if we are successful.” 

“A parent doesn’t always get a chance to see how their offspring’s life turns out, or how it ends. Such is life. At best, all you can do is prepare. A parent might not be around to see how their foals turn out. Life is doled out in tiny portions… well, for most. We’re stuck making the most of what we can with the time that we are given.” 

“This all goes back to what you said about how becoming a parent changes you. Changes your perspectives.” Even as he spoke, he saw her nod. “How am I supposed to commit to something so much larger than I am?” 

“That’s parenthood,” Twilight deadpanned. “It’s also rulership. Maybe even life in general. We commit to something that we’ll only have a small part in with the hopes that we leave a better world for those who come after us. I had some very misguided views… ideas? Look, everything I thought I knew about love, marriage, becoming a parent… everything I thought I knew, everything I believed in was just plain wrong. Life too. A lot of things. While one pony can make a difference, and I would never, ever discount that or diminish it in any way… it takes a team to wrangle up a better future. Be it a team of friends, or those you take as partners.” 

“And right now, you’re asking me to make a lifetime commitment to you, so that we might change the future together.” 

Twilight was slow to respond. “I suppose I am.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure for two ponies who just met,” Miss Strudel remarked. 

“A lifetime is a lot to ask of a pony.” Mid-sentence, Sundance felt his stomach do flip-flops. “I mean, I’m not saying no. My answer is yes, I’ll do this. But this is a lot to take in. It’s overwhelming. Just what am I supposed to do, exactly?” 

“Well, to start, we finish lunch, and then we spend a little time getting to know each other.” 
> A word with Miss Strudel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A lull in the conversation was reached and Sundance ate in silence as he pondered the immensity of the task set before him. Twilight called it evolved feudalism, but for Sundance, he merely thought of it as what feudalism should have always been. Equestria’s feudalism was unique, a standard for the rest of the world to follow. At least on paper. In practice, things had gone a bit off. For all of the glory it had in the past, now it was just another boring subject in school. 

How did they get to where they were? Sundance thought about this while eating a hayburger that was still piping hot. The bun? Toasty, even crispy, and not in the least bit soggy. Two centuries of tumultuous social change. One by one, the big cities on the coasts deposed their nobles, or were abandoned by their nobles. As something that resembled democracy took hold, insurrection and rebellion tore the nation into tatters. Equestria’s Civil War tore down all of the old institutions and then with the nation left in rubble and ruin, things sort of ground to a halt. Nothing better came along to replace what had once been. The Reconstruction became the age of stagnation, though many argued that it was the most stable time of Equestria’s long history. 

And now, Twilight Sparkle was about to shake things up. 

Momentous social change had forced her hoof and Sundance found himself aligned with her. How had it come to this? He was nopony special, yet here he was having lunch with the architect of the new era. It was absurd, really—yet he could not deny that he felt good about all of this. It was certainly better than doing nothing at all, though he suspected that he would go grey early in his life because of his commitment to Twilight’s cause. 

A worn, battered copy of Equestrian Feudalism and the Covenant of the Three Tribes sat upon the table. Sundance wasn’t sure when the book had shown up, but it was there now. He’d read it in school, but couldn’t remember any of it. Fancy Pants had mentioned the book and had said something about a revival. Sundance recalled seeing the leaderboard for the first time, and the glorious, stunning spectacle of it all. 

Then, quite unexpectedly… 

It started with a faint tickle of the nose, a physical sensation in his gut that something was wrong, and then Sundance heard Twilight whinny. A second later, Miss Strudel also whinnied, which was followed up with her covering her mouth with both front hooves. Twilight gagged, threw her head back, and gagged a second time. Sundance got a faint whiff of something foul, something unpleasant, a hint of something rather stinky. 

Tears ran down Miss Strudel’s cheeks and Twilight’s eyes were glassy. Sundance knew that something was wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was, or what it might be. He sniffed a few times, his head turning this way and that way—but other than a faint trace of stinkiness, he couldn’t determine what caused both Twilight and Miss Strudel to react the way they were. Sure, something smelled, but it seemed so faint. 

“I can taste it!” Miss Strudel cried. 

“Me too,” Twilight said, “me too.” 

“I don’t think the new formula agrees with her!” 

“And I am inclined to agree.” Then, Twilight’s bleary, watery eyes focused upon Sundance. “How are you not phased by this? This… this is awful! How can you just sit there like that?” 

“I hardly smell anything at all,” he replied. 

“How can you not smell THAT?” demanded Miss Strudel. 

Sundance shrugged, but was privately thankful that he was immune to the face-melting stench. 

There was a faint bassoon note that caused Sundance’s ears to prick. Twilight moaned and fanned the air with her wings. Meanwhile, the filly was still sound asleep in her crib, utterly undisturbed by the mayhem she was responsible for. A rather skittish Twilight lept from her chair, cautiously crept closer to the crib, and stretching her neck out, she had a look inside. Immediately, she jerked her head back. 

“Oh no,” she murmured, “it’s a poopsplosion. The dreaded poo-bomb. You’ll have to excuse me while I go clean this up. Please, talk to each other. Get to know one another. I won’t be gone long.” 

Before Sundance could respond, Twilight vanished and so did the crib. 

Alone now with the pretty, bespectacled mare, Sundance became rather nervous. Why? He didn’t know why. His confidence wavered—which he didn’t like at all—and he wanted that feeling of confidence to return. Twilight wanted them to talk, so that seemed like the obvious course of action. But what to say? Was he afraid right now? That might very well be the case, which meant that he had to learn how to control his fear at all costs, so his reason wouldn’t abandon him. 

“I was that dorky loner in school that couldn’t talk to nopony. How about you?” 

Miss Strudel panicked; she seemed caught off guard by Sundance’s question. Her ears stood straight, pivoted forwards, and behind her eyeglasses, her left eyelid twitched alarmingly. “Oh”—her voice cracked and turned husky—“I was that skinny egghead that ate lunch alone.” 

It was awful, and Sundance could sympathise. “I ate a lot of lunches alone. Sack lunches. Didn’t have enough money to get a hot lunch from the cafeteria.” 

“Me too. Not that I’d want to get food from the school cafeteria. It was a special kind of awful.” After a deep breath, Miss Strudel relaxed a bit, as evidenced by her ears returning to a more neutral position. When she smiled, however, it was a nervous one. “There was a fifteen bean chili that was kinda good, but it caused so much disruption in the classroom later that afternoon.” 

“What sort of school feeds students a fifteen bean chili?” asked Sundance. 

There was a snort, a bit of hoarse whickering, and then Miss Strudel whinnied with laughter. Right away she tried to contain herself, embarrassed with a reddened face for some reason, but her mirth could not be contained. It was the dorkiest of nerdy laughs and Sundance found it quite enchanting. Miss Strudel struggled with her laughter, but it would not be held back, would not be contained. Her muffled giggle-snorts were cute, appealing even, and Sundance found the sound pleasing to his ears. It was the sort of laugh that one might hear in school, and the sound took him on a backwards journey through time. 

“I knew a pegasus in school”—her voice wavered with laughter, it rose and fell in pitch—“and his name was Wind Streaker. He regularly caused an evacuation of the classroom. One day, he shows up in class with a note from the doctor. He has a medical condition, a problem with pressure at low altitude. Poor guy, he had it bad. We all teased him for the streaky wind he left behind.” 

“When I was a colt, I had this thing I’d do with my wings where I would act like I was deflating when I… you know. Did that. I thought I was so funny because my father laughed. Nopony else thought it was funny.” 

“Parents laugh at things that aren’t funny.” 

“I know, right?” Without knowing that he did it, Sundance smiled. “My father, he’s a quiet type. He hardly says a word. So when he laughed, I thought it had to be the funniest thing ever, and I even worked on my routine in the mirror. I’d hold my wings out and up, all nice and high, stretched out as far as I could get them, and then I’d work on my timing and pacing. An unbelievable amount of effort was put into that silliness. I took it so seriously.” 

“I am convinced that some of us are rather brilliant, and it shows up while we’re in school. But our classmates aren’t brilliant. They’re just kinda boring and normal. Being boring and normal, they don’t see our brilliance. We try to be smart, or funny, or clever, and we get made fun of, and then we stop doing what makes us brilliant, and we conform, and the brilliance goes away.” 

This was sobering to think about, and left Sundance filled with questions. 

“Just imagine what the world might be like if we brilliant ones ran into somepony that appreciated what we did and told us to stick with what we do. If only our gifts that made us special and set us apart could survive into adulthood. Now, I can’t act silly without worrying about being shamed for it, and just the very idea of acting foolish in front of others fills me with anxiety.” 

“I know what you mean,” Sundance said to her. He did know, and it bothered him in some vague way that he failed to understand. Perhaps it was best to put school behind him, and live life as if his time in school had no bearing. Easier said than done though. School had not prepared him for his adult life—quite the opposite. It was his genealogy project that prepared him for his adult life, and now, he needed to sort out what sort of adult he was. 

“Your olfactory fortitude is impressive, I must say.” 

Unsure of what this meant, he remained silent. 

“You were totally unphased by the diaper-bomb,” she said to explain herself. 

“Oh, that.” He nodded. “I am the Lord of Rotten Egglünd. My barony stinks.” 

“Exciting.” Miss Strudel seemed nervous now. “And I’ll be visiting regularly to work with you. Oh… joy… I guess…” 

“You get used to it.” Given Miss Strudel’s current state of upset, he found himself trying to reassure her. “I mean, you stay for a while and then you barely notice at it all. Smells just like rotten eggs. Really, really bad eggs.” 

“Lots of hot springs?” 

“We have hot springs, mudpots, vents, geysers, fumaroles, boiling lakes, and bubbling bogs. Seriously, there are vents in the bogs that look and sound just like buttholes—” 

Miss Strudel snorted, and then began to giggle. 

“I sometimes perch in a tree and watch. The bog buttholes spew out mud and make all kinds of rude noises.” He sighed, thought about his own words, and shook his head. “That’s what I do for entertainment now. There’s like nothing else to do but watch the bog buttholes.” 

“When I come to visit, you’ll have to show me.” 

“Alright, I can do that.” Though still nervous, Sundance was impressed by how well he was dealing with all of this. Miss Strudel actually seemed to like him. At least, she didn’t seem to detest him. Her smile seemed sincere enough, and her laughter seemed honest. 

He was almost certain that he’d made a friend.
> The three-phase plan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gaze glazed, Sundance was lost in thought when Twilight Sparkle returned in a shower of glittery sparks. The sudden appearance of the alicorn along with a crib did not phase him, and failed to rouse him from his near stupor. Twilight lifted the sleepy infant from the crib, sat down, and then laid the babe to rest in the crook of her foreleg. The foal yawned once, snorted out a wad of confetti, kicked her tiny legs, and then slipped into a deep comatose slumber. It took him a while, but Sundance slowly gained awareness of Twilight’s return. 

Miss Strudel nibbled upon a wheat meat nugget. 

“We still have much to discuss,” said Twilight as she settled into her chair and made herself comfortable. “But before we get started, do you have any questions that you would like for me to answer? Is there anything that you’d like to know? Is there something that I can help you understand?” 

Insightful, with a calm mind and clear thought, Sundance considered Twilight’s inquiry. There were a lot of questions, and if he asked all of them, the day would turn dark. Nothing else would get accomplished. So it came down to asking the right question, or questions, which was easier said than done. While he sat there, lost in thought and searching for what to say, Twilight resumed eating, though not in the same ravenous manner as she did before. 

“Taxes,” he said at last. “Won’t that raise eyebrows if I don’t pay taxes?” 

After she swallowed, Twilight sighed, then replied, “Corporate charities exist. This is a complex issue.” She straightened her neck and her tone changed to that of a schoolmarm. “All of your finances will become a matter of public record. I’m still refining the process. My friend, Applejack, she is the co-owner of Sweet Apple Acres, which is now operated as a corporate charity. Applejack funds a lot of my projects… things I do off the books and without the approval of the Royal Treasury Department. Those ponies really, really hate me. They think that spending money is an act of treason against the Crown.” 

She shrugged and waved her free front hoof around in a dismissive gesture. 

“I’ve learned a lot navigating those waters with Applejack. Enough that I believe I am ready to scale up what I’ve learned to apply it to our situation. A lot of our tax-exempt status comes from the nobility, many of whom do not pay taxes, because they directly fund other projects for the Crown, such as sponsoring a regiment in the guard or funding a Crown-sponsored project. This is Celestia’s doing. About three-hundred or so years ago, Celestia got it into her head that some ponies would actually pay more than their fair share of taxes if they had a say where the money went, or what it was spent on. So, she authored a series of laws that granted tax-exempt status to noble houses that offered grants and sponsorships. 

“Turns out that she was right. The noble houses competed to outspend one another when sponsoring a regiment or supplying a garrison. Studying the system led me to create the leaderboard… which I must say, has been wildly successful. Now, I am trying to get the same spirit of competition into corporate culture, because I think massive corporations competing against each other to do good for Equestria would fix a lot of things. It’s certainly done a lot for the noble houses.” 

“And I suppose that I’ll be doing both?” asked Sundance. “As a corporate noble, I mean. Am I to lead the way? Make equinekind my business?” 

“That is my desire, yes.” Nodding, her head bobbing, her mane bouncing against her brows, Twilight was enthusiastic with her approval. 

“So you want to turn this into a game… where everypony competes to do the most good?” Sundance considered his own words for a second. “And taxes are cut away so I have more resources for my projects… with the hopes that I dump more into the project than I might have paid in taxes to begin with. So you’re adapting the tax codes applied to the noble houses to corporate structures? In a sense, I mean.” 

“Exactly that. Applejack offers more in charitable funding than she ever paid in taxes.” Twilight wrapped her free foreleg around the infant she cradled and began to rock the tiny filly from side to side. “It is my belief that ponies want a say in how their tax money is spent. Yes, this is fraught with problems, such as unpopular things being underfunded, but I’m working on a solution. Ponies have all manner of things that they are passionate about, and if given the chance, they will give freely. I’ve seen that over the course of my leaderboard experiment.” 

He’d dipped a hoof into the water and all that was left now was to dive in. Though he didn’t understand it, it made a strange sort of sense. Twilight was all about options… choices. She even offered a choice in how one paid taxes. Either directly—or indirectly. It didn’t matter, so long as something was contributed. Those who had an option paid more than those who were coerced, it seemed—which was exactly why Twilight ruled Equestria and he was the caretaker of a vast expanse of nothingness. 

“Of course,” he said, his tone both soft and hesitant, “there is the matter of figuring out how to accomplish all of this. How am I supposed to take what I have now and do what you want done with it?” 



 

With no windows, no shadows, there was no sense of the passage of time. It might have been hours, or could have been days since they started. Twilight finished off yet another hayburger while the sniffling infant slept in the crook of her foreleg. Miss Strudel had stopped eating, but still eyed the remaining food with a hungry expression. As for Sundance, he too abstained, because he still had to fly home somehow. 

After she licked her lips clean, Twilight said, “You have open land. Lots of it. What you lack are residents. To that end, you need to entice homesteaders and townsteaders to come to you.” 

“Townsteaders?” For Sundance, this was an entirely new word, one he’d never heard before. It sounded odd in his ears and strange in his mind. “What’s a townsteader?” 

“Well”—Twilight smiled—“by definition, Sundance, you are a townsteader. A pony that founds a township, rather than just a single home. Ponyville was founded by a group of farmers, who were townsteaders.” 

“Oh.” The word still sounded strange, but now made sense for Sundance. “So how do I get more ponies to come to me?” 

“By making it financially viable,” Twilight replied. 

“I pay them?” Here, Sundance blinked a few times, and thought about the cost. 

“Well, not exactly. You offer grants so they can be properly supplied and outfitted. Only you won’t have to worry about the cost, because I’ll be paying for it.” She paused, then corrected herself. “I won’t be paying for it, not exactly. Those jerks at the treasury would go nuts if I submitted the paperwork. No, Applejack and Rarity have amassed a sizeable sum of money just for this purpose. My pet project is off the books… for now.” 

Somewhat apprehensive, Sundance wasn’t sure how he felt about all of this being off the books. As a bureaucrat, he felt that good record keeping was mandatory. After all, what if a long-distant descendent wanted to find his grandmother? The mere suggestion of off the books made him cringe more than a little. 

“When you say it that way, it almost sounds illegal.” 

“Oh, Sundance… you’re funny.” Brows furrowed, with deep creases visible above her eyes, Twilight tittered for a short time—a sound that was not entirely wholesome. 

“Is this legal?” he asked. 

“As a social experiment, done for the sake of study, it is perfectly legal. As the Princess of Friendship, it is my prerogative to institute social programs for controlled friendship studies. Which is what we’re doing. While I can’t offer Crown-sponsored land grants… which is outside of my authority, I can do multi-generational friendship studies. Right now, I am securing a location.” 

“I see.” He swallowed, licked his lips, and hoped that at least good records would be kept. “So this is a matter of working around your current restrictions. That’s fine… I guess. You’re not doing it for equinal gain, so… I’m still on board.” 

“I am also going to pay you to be an administrator for this friendship study,” she said. 

Ears pricked, Sundance sat up a little straighter. “Is that so? How much?” 

“One gold bit a year.” 

An invisible felinoid thief snatched Sundance’s tongue and he was left without a response. While he was surprised, this really didn’t bother him, but he felt as though it should. One gold bit a year? That was fine, more or less. His needs were met and he really didn’t need more. Surely, other benefits would be made available to him, so this really wasn’t a big deal. It even made sense; he was doing this for friendship, a sort of lifelong partnership with Twilight Sparkle. 

“You will get one gold bit a year,” Twilight said in hushed tones. “However, your barony will get extensive funding. As much as I can muster through my own means. We start with grants for homesteaders and townsteaders. Once that is established, we move on to infrastructure. You will act as a corporate front for my efforts. Since you’ll be operating as a corporate charity, every single bit spent will be a matter of public record. Once you get established a bit, I’ll do what I can to get others interested in our cause. With a bit of luck, we can maybe snowball a bit. All those brand new towns will be prime investment opportunities, and those investment opportunities will only be available to investors of the highest quality… those who have established themselves as servants for the public good.” 

“So this will be a reward for a contest,” he said. 

“Of course.” Her tight-lipped smile stretched across her perfect teeth. “And you… you will be the benevolent saviour of the impoverished masses, a selfless, self-sacrificing soul who devotes the whole of his existence to this cause for one gold bit a year. That will be quite a talking point. We’ll manufacture your image. Sell you to the public. We’ll curate a fine public opinion of you. You’ll be the compassionate Corporate Executive Officer that lives as an example to others, and that others will aspire to be.” 

“Um…” Unable to respond in any sort of meaningful way, Sundance reached up and scratched at the scars on the back of his neck. It was rather brilliant—but he was secretly relieved that Twilight Sparkle was a good princess, and not an evil one. An evil Twilight Sparkle would be rather unnerving—but no doubt quite friendly. 

Lifting one hoof, Twilight began stroking the fuzzy, well-rounded tummy of the foal she cradled in the crook of her foreleg. With smooth, even strokes, she rubbed the filly’s tender tum-tum, all while she smiled the friendliest of disarming smiles. All things considered, Twilight seemed quite pleased with herself at the moment, now that her big plan was revealed. Or maybe it wasn’t; there could be even more plan to reveal, and this was just the opener. 

“We’ll focus on getting these townships started, and then, once those are established and stable, we’ll begin phase two: providing services. Education is a must. It is very, very difficult to tackle education in our big cities, but I think we could do more in small planned communities. Remember… we’re trying to preserve the right to choose, so having a basic education is of the utmost importance if ponies are to leave your barony someday and make some kind of life for themselves in the city.” 

That seemed reasonable. What she said was true, or at least had an element of truth to it. A one-room schoolhouse was a far easier fix than a massive inner-city school with thousands of students. Of course, there might come a day when his barony’s population was so large that such schools would be necessary—but would he see that in his own lifetime? At least Twilight had some kind of plan, which was certainly more than what he had at the moment. Of course, it was still up to him to find some way to turn his barony into a financial powerhouse. 

But a few small settlements might be a start. 

“And what is phase three?” he asked. 

“Doing something about the absolute isolation that you face,” she replied. “There’s no railroad, no roads, not much of anything. The previous baron wanted the modern world to stay far, far away. Now we’re stuck trying to fix that. I’ll do what I can to help.” 

“The railroad depot is very far away.” He took a moment to reflect upon his isolation whilst he scratched at his scars. “In the lowlands, near the Canterhorn, there’s a massive swampy bog. To the south is the Everfree. Off to my west, there are mountains, and from what I understand, the most dangerous patch of wilderness that Equestria has left. I’m not sure what’s up north of me, but close to the barony settlement itself, there are a bunch of tar pits, boiling bogs, boiling lakes, and an untold number of fumaroles that spew sulfurous fumes.” 

“You are the victim of hostile geography,” Twilight remarked. “Draining the bogs would be a monumental effort. Your best connection to the world is in the south, where the railroad runs north of the Everfree. But that is also a long, long way away from your settlement. There is a solution though.” 

“There is?” Hopeful, his ears pricked in anticipation for Twilight’s explanation. 

“We’re about to build a transportation system between Canterlot and Ponyville. The cogwheel trains that run up and down the mountain are very expensive to maintain. We’re looking at a system of cable airships. Tell me, Sundance… are you familiar with how an airship functions?” 

Like a colt in class who wanted to impress his teacher, Sundance put his brain to work. 

When he failed to answer within a reasonable time, Twilight began to explain. “A nacelle is filled with Celestium gas. When electric current is applied, Celestium has incredible lift. Now, Celestium is basically helium… you have two neutrons, two electrons, two protons, and at least one thaumaton.” She took a deep breath, then continued, “Now, airships tend to be expensive because they need engines to produce electricity to provide lift. However, there’s a new kind of design… one that flies along an electrified cable. It is tethered to the electrified cable and moves along the length of it. It doesn’t need an engine to function, but it does have two airscrews: one up front, and one in the rear. Back and forth it goes, endlessly traversing its route.” 

With very little effort, Sundance understood the simplicity of it. 

“These are small craft, with very little cargo capacity, but they are cheap to operate and inexpensive to maintain. The first one to be built will stretch from Ponyville to Canterlot. Should be done in maybe a year. I want the second one to be built from your barony settlement down to the railroad depot to the south. It will be a slow system… probably… and might take several days, but that is better than no transportation at all.” 

“I have no electric grid,” Sundance said as he thought of the major flaw in Twilight’s plan. 

“Not an issue,” she said in return with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “We’ll find a way.” 

“So I am guessing that the homesteaders and townsteaders will establish themselves along the planned route for the cable airship?” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hoof, thoughtful. “It will be a means to move goods north and south, as well as anypony that needs to get from one end to another.” 

With these words said, this seemed possible. Feasible. Reasonable. Why, this could be set up in just a few years, maybe. He knew nothing about the proposed system, how it worked, how it functioned, but the idea seemed sound. This would also mean potential electrification for his barony, at least along the cable airship route. Modernising his barony wasn’t quite as impossible as he thought. Though, it still fell upon him to find some way for the barony to start cranking out a tremendous amount of profit, which was easier said than done. 

“There will be a corridor of civilisation running north to south. It will be up to you to see that this flourishes. It’s a good thing that you’re a pegasus.” 

He understood; he could fly from settlement to settlement with little effort. 

“Radiance is currently working on the new railroad depot—” 

“He is?” Sundance was quite surprised by this news, as he’d heard nothing about progress. 

“He is.” A rather sketchy grin could be seen on Twilight’s mug. “Radiance is quite put out that Nuance showed him up. He’s busy trying to redeem himself, because his doting mother takes every opportunity she can to remind him that his brother supervised the construction of an entire town and a castle.”

“Nuance did more than supervise,” Sundance said. “My gatehouse was designed by him. The little guy has an eye for functional architecture.” 

“He’s come into his own and it drives Radiance crazy. Which is good. Because Radiance is a massive jerk.” 

“Oh, come on, he’s not that bad—” 

“No, he’s worse.” She muttered something completely unintelligible beneath her breath, her eyes rolled, and her expression turned sour. “But he kind of needs to be a callous jerk to do what he does best, so it can’t be held against him.” Lips pursed, she huffed, and she puffed, and then she gave the sleeping filly a loving squeeze. “Nuance got accepted into a somewhat prestigious academy for officers, and he did so on his own merits. They train diplomats there… not soldiers. Celestia is very, very proud. She’s been strutting around everywhere she goes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Nuance is her favourite… right now.” 

A huge grin appeared in Sundance’s face. 

“There is no phase four,” said Twilight, who abruptly changed the subject. “We’ll start planning that together once we reach phase three. For now, our work is cut out for us. Begin townsteading. Ideally, we want homesteaders to start homesteading next spring, which will be here before we know it.” 

“You really believe that I can do all of this, don’t you?” he asked. 

Upon hearing this question, Twilight visibly relaxed. Her face, now serene and calm, was a thing of curious beauty. There was wisdom in her eyes, and she radiated a sort of intense, inspiring magnificence. “Not only do I have faith in you, but I have faith in your friendships. You started out in debt… which is now all gone. A lifetime or more of debt, all of which is now settled. If that can be accomplished due to friendship, just think of what else might be done.”

“Rustic has a head for business and Turmeric has a knack for organisation. I got out of debt by accident… through no real effort of my own.” Sundance bowed his head and found that his next words were hard to say. “It was just a thing that happened. A stroke of good fortune. Luck. Call it what you will. Just like everything else that’s happened. Me inheriting the barony. These things keep happening to me and there are times when I find myself barely involved in the outcome.” 

“Maybe it isn’t about you,” Twilight said to Sundance. “There’s plenty of times I found myself caught up in a whirlwind of events, and while I had a part, it wasn’t about me. I think that you will find as your friendships develop, you will find yourself caught up in more and more things. Why, just imagine how Rustic and Turmeric might feel about saving their friend. You may find yourself in their position someday, providing good fortune and serendipitous circumstance to another in need. In fact, given the scope of our project, I’m sure of it.” 

He hadn’t considered this before, but he thought about it now. 

“Celestia has high hopes for the two of us.” 

Sundance found himself looking Twilight right in the eye. 

“She has most of her attention focused on the war, Sundance. If the world was at peace, she herself would be far more active in our plan.” Twilight resumed stroking the filly she held, and her ears took on a more relaxed posture. “Just think, Sundance… long after we’re gone, centuries from now, Celestia will be there to watch over whatever we create. She will be able to watch it grow. Prosper. Centuries from now, she will judge our works.”
 
How exactly did one respond to such words? 

“Are you ready to get started? We’ll not see the end, but we’ll have a fine beginning…” 
> The magic of friendship
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Destiny gives us purpose”—with a graceful fluidity, Twilight rose from her seat and then began to pace in a tight circle around the wooden cradle, which she rocked with her magic—“but it is friendship that perfects that purpose. Whatever we are meant to be, friendship acts as a sort of… refinement process and allows us to become the best ponies that we could possibly be.” There was a pause, she considered her words, then added, “Not just ponies. No, not just ponies. All of us. Hooves, paws, or claws, we were all united in a compact and given a shared purpose. Our lives were meant to intertwine very much like… well, twine. A single thread has little strength, but combine enough threads, enough strands, and you have twine. Weave even more strands together, and you have rope. I think, Sundance, that you understand where I am going with this metaphor.” 

To show that he listened, he offered her a simple silent nod. 

“Celestia has… she has special vision. Her eyes see beyond the common plane. When a pony… well, this is unique to ponies… but when a pony fully realises their potential, when they become the best possible pony that they could be, they gain an alicorn aspect. Each and every one of us has this… or has the potential to have it. From the common baker to the cleverest adventurer. When we have just the right friends, the right creatures in our lives, a hidden alicorn aspect appears that few can see. It doesn’t mean that we’re meant to become an alicorn—though that is certainly possible—but what it does mean is that the magic of friendship has reached maximum potential.” 

Her head turned and she looked directly into Sundance’s eyes as she paced. 

“It means that the impossible can be done. We become so much more than mere beings of crude matter. With our full potential awakened, we live the best possible lives that we can. So many of the ponies of Ponyville have their alicorn aspect… and that is how I know that I am doing my job as their ruler. With so many ponies that have their full potential awakened all in one place, Ponyville is a powerhouse. And you, Sundance… you can make this work for you. I’ll help you.” 

The corner of Twilight’s mouth turned upwards in a whimsical smirk. 

“What about me?” he asked. 

“Do you have your alicorn aspect?” Her smirk widened and Twilight Sparkle’s withered, blasted face wrinkled up as she peered at Sundance with a curious squint. “Not yet, you don’t. But don’t give up hope.” 

“So I just need to make more friends, I guess. I can do that.” 

In an instant, the smirk vanished, and the squint went away. Twilight’s face turned solemn and her countenance became that of utter seriousness. “You have the right attitude for it, I’ll give you that. There are many whose fragile egos would be bruised or even wounded upon the discovery that they are less than perfect. This is even more true for pegasus ponies, whose greatly inflated egos give them the buoyancy needed for flight.” 

He thought about refuting this, but then he considered himself and every pegasus he knew. Pride was their tribal trait, and sometimes… sometimes it got them into trouble. It might be a stereotype, but it was one grounded in truth. Sundance wasn’t much of a pegasus pony; he didn’t go around showing off his wingspan to everypony he knew, he didn’t warble whilst he struck a pose, and he didn’t think himself to be particularly vain. But, his pride was tender, and he certainly had his moments. His daredevil behaviour satisfied something deep within him. 

“How odd… if Rainbow Dash were here, she’d be letting me have it for what I said. Yet from you, I get silence. Celestia told me that you keep your pride hidden. She said that you weren’t a pompous peacock and that she worried that you might not be pegasus enough for what’s ahead…” 

Oh, that stung. 

But he knew when he was being goaded and he maintained his cautious silence. 

“You are a curious creature, Sundance.” 

Was he though? With a turn of his head, he angled his neck and had a good look at his own wings. Then he looked down at his body. Life had been less than kind recently, and he saw scars, the evidence of hard living. His hooves were not the perfect hooves he had when he lived in the city. Why, he looked quite feral; his coat was shaggy and he was more than a little scruffy. By pegasus standards, he was worthy of a snort of contempt—yet, what pegasus, and what standards? Who would dare judge him? He’d faced an angry owlbear and he lived in a place where spider season was a thing. What pompous, pooting, pontificating peacock pegasus would dare to judge him? He was beyond such petty concerns. 

At that moment, he decided that he was fine with the pegasus pony that he’d become. 

“A curious creature indeed.” Twilight continued her tight circle around the crib, which swayed from side to side. “Progress will be our undoing, Sundance. We’ve become the victims of our own success. What I am about to say will make you think of all sorts of questions, and I can’t answer most of them. For that, I’m sorry. 

“We’re an uplifted species, Sundance. Engineered to endure. To serve a function and fulfill a role. Those that made us, shaped us, those who engineered us, they saw a crisis, a terrible, terrible future where life as we know it came to an end. Well, our crisis came and went. The end of the world arrived and Equestria came to an end—” 

Sundance blinked. 

“Oh, I have your attention now, I see. Yes, there are two Equestrias, Sundance. The first one came and went. As for the second, we are rapidly becoming the first, but without the governance and rule of the alicorns who made the first Equestria so prosperous. It was a grand and marvellous place. Perfect cities. No wants. No needs. A utopia. A paradise made possible. Technology and magic merged in perfect balance. Then came the end. The whole of the world was poisoned. Terrible things rose to power, with Grogar the worst among them. 

“The alicorn benefactors who made our grand utopia possible could be corrupted. Twisted. Made foul and evil. The Equestria that was fell. It is now just so much ruin and rubble. Now we rise again, very much like a phoenix from the ashes, but we are far from perfect. We’re just ponies… and not alicorns. We are not our forebears. Just an uplifted species that was designed to survive… to endure… we were made to struggle, but prosperity thwarts us.” 

“I don’t understand…” he managed to slip in during Twilight’s pause. 

“We were made to struggle, but the struggle we were designed to endure changed. Sundance, we’re left uncompleted. Unfinished. Our perfection was never achieved. The struggle changed and now our success is our undoing. We’ve outgrown harmony. Equestria is no longer a collection of feudal communes that struggle to see another year. We’re not three tribes whose very survival depends upon trusting one another so that we might continue to exist. When our numbers were few, every life mattered. Every purpose mattered. 

“But that is no longer the case, Sundance. Our cities are filled with ponies whose purpose doesn’t matter at all. Many just exist. Earth ponies fueled our industrial revolution and pony-powered machines allowed for the rise of industry. Our foundries relied upon earth pony strength and endurance. But success has destroyed them. Electricity and steam has relegated the earth pony to obscurity. Automation and mechanisation has taken over. Industrialisation wasn’t particularly kind to the earth ponies, and now, whatever comes after, it will be worse for them.” 

The alicorn froze in place, her head bowed, and she ceased to move. 

“Pegasus ponies face no better future. While flight is a gift, courier work is not a future. I am positive that you know of what I speak of. New technology is allowing for the automated control of weather systems and in the larger cities, budget cuts get rid of weather regulation altogether for the sake of balancing the budget. Sundance… surely you know of the struggle of the pegasus pony.” 

After a moment of hesitation, he nodded. 

“And unicorns… as my brother has said, we’re the victims of our own complexity. Well…” Profoundly sad, Twilight paused, shook her head, and her wings fidgeted against her sides. “I am a unicorn no longer, but my brother’s point still stands. Magic is immensely complex. Complicated. There are too many unicorns, with most of them being relatively weak. What magic they do have is hardly even developed. Magic instruction happens to be quite difficult. Instruction becomes an impossible task in the big cities. Qualified magic instructors will never work for the wages of inner-city school teachers. Overcrowded classrooms make it impossible to learn. Millions of unicorns… and most of them, a vast majority of them, the multitude of them lack even basic magical competence. It takes a lifetime of study to master magic, and there is no time to study when you’re stuck managing a factory assembly line or performing some mindless, menial tasks just so you can pay rent and fill the fridge.” 

The grim reality of Twilight’s words proved too much for Sundance. These were things he could barely comprehend. Yet, a part of himself understood them on some level. He thought of the homeless ponies on the streets and the struggle for survival in the cities. It wasn’t like the struggle for survival that was Equestria’s history. Now, ponies struggled to survive while surrounded by an abundance of wealth, of prosperity. They went hungry while food spoiled on supermarket shelves. While Twilight spoke of complex things, he understood the simple gist of it, and he found that he was rather proud of himself for what little he was able to conceive. 

“So this is what we face. Some will thrive in this new world as the march of progress continues unabated. But so many will be left behind. Many will never recognise even a fraction of their potential. It is impossible to restore what once was, and we can’t fix what we’re meant to be. The best that we can do is to work with what we have… which, as it turns out, isn’t much. I suppose I could talk about how we have friendship, and that’s enough”—here, she sighed, her ears splayed outwards, and she appeared annoyed—“but that would be quite a pile of minotaur dung. Friendship isn’t feeding the hungry, or housing the homeless, or offering a panacea to the sick and suffering. Equestria has a friendship problem, and I aim to fix that. Somehow.” 

After taking a deep breath, Sundance almost offered to help, but he’d already done that. Why, he was doing that right now. That was the whole purpose of his visit. Twilight had avoided trite platitudes—what she said about friendship was quite revealing—so he followed her example and avoided unnecessary words as well. There could be no denying it: he was in over his head, but that was fine. He inhaled, his cheeks puffed out, and he let out a slow, prolonged exhale through pursed lips. Twilight’s ‘somehow’ was quite revealing; she didn’t know. While there was a plan, she was clearly winging it. There was no clear victory, no obvious winning scenario—at least he could not see one—there was only the minimisation of suffering. 

Would that be enough? 

“Sundance, you’re stronger than you give yourself credit,” Twilight said to him as she resumed her pacing around the cradle where the infant slept. “You show no signs of collapse. No sign of buckling. Even after all I’ve said, you still have that same expression of resolve. I’ve only ever seen that on one other pony.” 

“Who?” he asked. 

“Celestia,” she replied. “I don’t have her resolve, but I wish I did. I could tell you about my shortcomings, but we’d be here all day and probably most of tomorrow as well. It’s funny, really. Luna’s descendents, they share a host of common traits. They thrive in chaos. We tend to be our best when the situation is at its worst. For many of us, we’re not at our best when things are calm. We fall apart when there isn’t a crisis. I could tell you a funny story about a lack of friendship crises, three fillies, a doll, and one very troubled unicorn… perhaps another time.” 

She drew in a deep breath. 

“But Celestia’s descendents… natural stoics. Steely resolve. Bravery… bravery to a fault. Some of them are absolutely nutters. They tend to make the very best sort of friends, the sort of friends you didn’t realise that you needed until you have one. Not sure I said that in the best way. No matter. Your resolve gives me the courage I need to go forward.” 

At this moment, he saw something different about himself. He thought of his friends—all of them—and he was the quiet one among them. When they met and had that meeting about turning the barony into a corporation, he’d maintained his silence—his calm. Twilight had said something quite revealing, and now, with hindsight, he saw a different version of himself. A better version possibly. Now he had a better understanding of why his friends depended upon him, perhaps. 

He was their Celestia, in a manner of speaking. 

Just thinking about it made the sun shine within him, and he felt a curious warmth. 

“I think we’re done here,” Twilight announced. “At least for now. Miss Strudel, you’ll be responsible for the follow-ups. Sundance, it was a pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face. I am suddenly very thoughtful, and I need time to collect those thoughts. Perhaps there is something useful among them.” 

He bowed his head. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t let you down.” 

“No,” Twilight replied, “you won’t. You’re too much like Celestia. Which is exactly why I need you. I really must go and collect my thoughts before they scatter. Ideas are precious.” Her head tilted off to one side. “Her name is Orange Marmalade Pie. I tell you this as a token of my trust. When I’m alone with her, I call her Marmy, and so does her father. Go do great things, Sundance.” 

“I’ll do my best.” 

“I’m sure you will.” 

“Thank you. For everything.” 

“Oh, don’t thank me, Sundance. I’m about to ruin your life. We’ll be lucky to come out of this unscathed.” 

“Any crash you can walk away from is a win.” 

“Right, good attitude. And now, I must say goodbye. Farewell, Sundance.” 

“Goodbye, Twilight.” 

And then, before things got awkward, Twilight vanished, and the crib with her. 
> Through the griffon door
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a moment of dizzying disorientation as Sundance came into the room, when he couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. While things seemed normal, he’d just learned that normal could very well be an illusion. In the room, there were two creatures; an earth pony mare, and a young, tiny, somewhat rather owlish griffon cub. He stood there, frozen for maybe half a minute or so, and then, after he’d collected his senses, he started to thank Moondancer for her escort, but she left. Just as the words began to leave his mouth, the door shut behind him, and he was left alone in the room with two strangers. 

The light that shone through the arched window was quite convincing. 

At the moment, he was overwhelmed from his meeting with Twilight. There were questions and a great multitude of thoughts he needed to sort out. He very much wanted to come to grips with his conclusion that he was something of a Celestia figure to his friends, because this revelation consumed his identity. The exit that he’d hoped for was just another room, just another place within this seemingly endless castle. 

When he turned his head to look around, he saw his saddlebags upon a narrow, decorative table, and they looked a bit fuller than they had when he’d arrived. The earth pony mare was studying him now, and she did so in silence. As for the griffoness cub, she hadn’t even looked up; she was busy colouring with a bright yellow oversized crayon for the time being. Clearly, the tiny creature had dedication to her art. 

“Must of been quite a conversation with my boss,” the earth pony mare said to Sundance. “She has that effect on ponies. Hello, my name is Bourgogne Blintz and my little friend over here that I just met is Gisela. She probably won’t even be aware of your existence until she draws a perfect sun. She ignored me as well. As for you, you’re Sundance… and I can see that I have my work cut out for me.” 

“Um, hi.” Unsure of what to do, Sundance continued to just stand there. 

“You’re really very lucky that you’re my boss’ friend, I have to say. This grand adventure, whatever it is that you’re about to do, you get to start your journey as friends. I wish it had been that way for me.” 

“Friends?” He spent a moment contemplating what was said. “I’m sorry, say again? I don’t follow. Bit out of sorts.” 

“You get to start this grand adventure as friends. What is sure to be an Equestria-changing project. I wish it had been that way for me. Twilight and I, started off on the wrong hoof. We were enemies for a time… though I never had the privilege of being zippity-zapped with the friendship rainbow blast-beams of doom. No… Twilight broke me down the old fashioned way… in a dungeon, with lots of torture and hot pokers—” 

“Say what?” 

The mare laughed. “I’m kidding, of course. Twilight won my respect. The hard way. And I wish that I had come around sooner, because I really screwed everything up.” She sighed, shook her head, and then smiled at Sundance. “I’ll be the one responsible for crafting your public image, Sundance.” 

Uncertain of how to respond, he watched the griffoness for a short time, he tried to corral his many thoughts, and when his anxiety about how his silence might be perceived had peaked, he said to the mare, “Not sure how I feel about this whole public image thing. Feels like lying.” 

“No,” she replied while waving both of her front hooves in front of her. “Not lying. No. Not lying at all… think of it more as… well, think of it more as getting all cleaned up for a photo.” 

“A photo?” 

“Yes”—she nodded with great enthusiasm—“a photo. We clean you up a bit. Make sure you look your very best. You get brushed, and groomed, and have your hooves done. You get a little makeover so that your mane and tail look stunning. Then, maybe, just maybe, we apply a little makeup. Oh, not enough to be seen… but just enough to accentuate all the right shadows. Give your face a little depth. Then we adjust the lighting to our needs.” 

“Uh…” 

“The photo is still you, it just the best possible version of you. We just take what is already there and work with that.” Her smile? Brilliant. Her eyes? Filled with a manic intensity. “That’s what I do. I’m an artist. Only I don’t do photographs or fancy paintings. I create public images. I create things for consumers to consume. And under Twilight’s watchful eye, I do so as honestly as possible for the sake of my own survival. Applejack still hates my guts.” 

“Seems like there’s a lot of history I’m missing.” 

“Oh, there is.” 

“This still feels dishonest.” 

“You know, Applejack feels the same way. Hence the reason why she hates my guts.” Then, after she cringed for several seconds, she added, “Well, one of the many reasons why she hates my guts. But, I’m still trying to get into Applejack’s good graces, for Twilight’s sake. We have to work together. Which is hard to do when you have a cantankerous apple farmer that hates your guts.” 

“The apple farmer hates your guts.” 

“Oh, undoubtedly so. She’s the Element of Honesty. There’s bound to be some, uh, tension between us.” For a second, the manic intensity in her eyes faltered and great anxiety could be seen. “I only wish to make things better. Applejack… I wish that she’d believe that. Honestly, I can’t tell if she brings out the best in me or the worst in me. Anyhow, none of that matters right now. Gisela here, she’s yours. Mrs. Velvet had her delivered this morning. I’m supposed to observe your interactions.” 

“She’s mine?” He swallowed, licked his lips, and suddenly had a keen awareness that his leg muscles twitched. “I wasn’t informed of this previously.” 

“Mrs. Velvet said it would be a delightful surprise. A parting gift for you to take home.” 

“This might not be the best day to do that—” 

“He doesn’t want me.” The griffoness cub spoke with a thick, strange accent that was most certainly not Equestrian. 

“Oh no, it’s not that.” He rubbed the back of his head with his wing and tried to think about what to say, how to explain this problem. “It’s just, well, right now, there was a bit of a fight, you see, and—” 

“Nobirdy wants me,” the tiny cub said as she put down her crayon. 

“No… no, it’s not that… it’s just… well, I had a huge fight with the mare that will be your caketaker, er, uh, caretaker, and that needs to be sorted out, and it would be awful of me to take you home and have you caught in the middle of all of that and…” His words faded into an anxious wheeze when he saw the cub’s slight, tiny body begin to hitch up and down. 

“I lost everything,” the little owlish cub said. 

“She did,” Bourgogne Blintz said to Sundance. “She lost her country to the ravages of war. Then she lost her parents to pirates and slavers during the crossing of the Cloud Sea. Her papers, which are in your saddlebags, say that she was rescued by a band of adventurers led by Daring Do and brought to Equestria.” 

“There was a tall pony with a talking sword,” the cub said. “He got shot in his derrière. Then all kinds of bad things happened. A nice mare covered my eyes. I heard scary things.” 

“Well, if I take you home, you might hear more scary things. Or even see them.” Sundance found that he was critically self aware that his problems at home could have far-reaching consequences—like right now. He made a mental note that he needed to find some way to sort this stuff out to avoid future problems. “Why is it that you think that nopony wants you?” 

It was not the cub who answered, but Bourgogne Blintz. “Her papers, which are in your saddlebag, say that she is entirely too curious. The little tyke can pick locks with her claws, and she is a natural-born escape artist. As it turns out, this is a terrible, terrible problem in the big city.” 

“Well, wandering off is a real problem back home too,” he said in response. “We’re right in the middle of spider season—” 

“Star spider season?” 

“No, lady. Big, hairy, ginormous, go hunting for night terrors spider season.” 

“Oh.” 

He turned his attention upon the cub, crossed the room, and then stood near where she sat. Her soft, silent sobs made his heart ache, and he tried to imagine the consequences that might happen if she were brought home. Today just wasn’t a good day for it, but it seemed as though he was stuck. Life was no great respecter of plans. 

“I lost somepony I cared about as well,” he said, almost in a whisper. “His name was Cucumber. He… he was… he still is… Cucumber… calling him my friend doesn’t really feel right. He was so much more. A mentor. I only knew him for a short time, but he taught me so much. It still hurts that he’s gone.” With a careful flick of his tail, he sat down on the floor beside the cub. 

Lost in thought, he studied her face for a moment. Yes, she was rather owlish, with tufts of feathers that looked a bit like horns. Gisela would fit right in with all of the owls and owl-creatures of the barony. Then, his eyes traveled down to the sheet of paper covered in scribbles. There was a sun in the middle, a big yellow sun, with sharp, pointy spikes that stabbed the sky. There were crudely drawn boats on a big blue ocean—and bright orange fire. Some of the boats were sinking. Flying stick figures could be seen in the skies, though what they represented exactly was unknown. Just looking at the picture, all drawn in crayon, made Sundance feel a bit sick to his stomach. It was the worst sort of thing that a foal—or in this case, a cub—might draw. 

Was this his future? The future of his barony? Broken things and castaways? The unwanted and discarded? He almost asked a question about the picture, but found that he couldn’t. Words seemed useless. Pointless. Meaningless. In the middle of the horrible, flaming catastrophe, Celestia’s sun shone. Maybe there was something to that, some bit of optimism, but he had trouble feeling it. He noticed for the first time that Gisela had no tail. Well, not much of one. Just a little stubby tail with a tuft of feathers. There was some kind of cat that had a stubby tail, but he couldn’t think of what it was. 

A single tear landed right in the middle of the spikey yellow sun. 

Words were useless right now. Instead, he slipped a wing around the cub, who shied away. Sundance would not be denied though, and he risked no-doubt sharp claws as his wing continued to encircle her. She made a strange sound—some sort of mewled hoot that was both feline and avian—and then tried to scurry away. But escape she did not. He pulled her close, wrapped his wing around her, and was overcome with relief when her struggles ceased. She clung to him, her tiny claws prickled, and the razor sharp edges of her beak scraped against the vulnerable skin just below his throat. 

She was little, slight, and light. It seemed as though she might be almost weightless. Not much bigger than a common housecat. He slipped a foreleg beneath her to support her, and then, as he was wont to do, he sat there in silence. Lost in the moment, he failed to notice how Bourgogne Blintz studied him with a scrutinous squint. This was nice and he understood why ponies became parents. Hollyhock would have to be sorted out somehow, and while he held the distraught cub, he began to plan, to figure out some way, some means of fixing this awful situation. It was up to him to make it right—not Hollyhock. While she had some responsibility for what happened, she was not in charge. He was. Which meant that he had to sort this out somehow. 

And so he would. 

Gisela would grow up. She would remember this moment, he hoped. It mattered for reasons that he could barely comprehend. This mattered for the same reason that his fight with Hollyhock mattered. These impressionable young ones would have their future shaped by his actions, and their future was his future. The barony’s future. He would not make the same mistake twice. 

“I bet you’re a special little girl,” he said to the cub that clung to him. “Can you tell me what makes you special?” 

There was no response. Not right away. But she squirmed a bit, her claws softly scraped against his skin, and then he heard her say, “I have pink toes and black toes.” 

“That does make you special,” he said in return. 

“Mom said it did.” 

“There might be trouble if you come home with me.” 

“I’m always in trouble,” the cub said with heartfelt earnestness. 

“That’s reassuring.” Maybe she would make things exciting. Was it wrong to hope for that? Perhaps Hollyhock just needed a bit more to keep her busy. Yes, he found this bit of reasoning to be quite sound. “Home is a wilderness. A dangerous wilderness. I’m not sure if this will be better or worse than living in the city. Different kind of dangers, I suppose.” 

The cub was silent. 

“Do you remember your home?” he dared to ask. 

“Just a little,” she replied. “Farms. Many farms.” 

“Well, we’re a farming community.” 

“I like farms. I don’t like cities.” 

This was fortunate, Sundance felt. Maybe things would work out. Or things could go horribly and explode into smithereens. Which seemed far more likely if Paradox was involved. Explosions weren’t beneficial to Twilight’s long-term plans. There was the matter of taking her home though, but that would be sorted out. It would just be awkward. He would have to face the awkwardness, but he wouldn’t be alone. 

He suspected that he’d just made a friend. 

“It’s time to go home,” he said to her. “I have to make sure that we weren’t overrun by spiders.” 
> To put down one's hoof
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

All of Ponyville became a miniature set-piece and Sundance felt his passenger’s reaction. After a bit of a chit-chat, she had been cleaned up a bit, had a few final encouraging words said to her by Bourgogne Blintz, and then her meagre possessions were loaded into Sundance’s saddlebags. He circled on rising summer currents, the slow, lazy kind that sort of made him want to take a nap. But now was not the time for napping, no. Now was the time to go home. 

Glancing down, he saw new construction. Whole new neighborhoods were being built. Some of the houses were just frames, skeletons of what one day would be. Ponyville had been around for a while—though Sundance did not know how long—and there was something about seeing it as it expanded that gave him hope. But he also had questions, or perhaps these questions could be considered thoughts. Yes, he had ideas, notions, curious inklings that scurried through the recesses of his mind. 

Below, he saw houses. Houses. Not tenements, or high-rises, or apartment stacks. There was still space to spread out. It wasn’t the insanity of high density residential zoning. At which point did a place like Ponyville become more like Baltimare? What was the threshold? The point of no return? As was so often the case, he thought of his own barony. How much growth would he see during his own lifetime? He felt a bit like a gardener who obsessed over his begonias… whatever begonias were. Mythical plants that he’d heard mentioned, but had never seen.

“It looks like home.” 

His wings went still so that he might hear better, and then he repeated his passenger’s words: “It looks like home?” 

“A little,” she replied, her talons clenched tight in his mane. “The land is green. I see farms.” 

“Does it make you feel better?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Well, good.” With the wind in his face, he banked, turned himself toward a north-easterly direction, and began to pump his wings so that he might start his journey home. “Hang on, we have a long trip ahead of us. I don’t plan to slow down. We'll be home soon, Gisela.” 



 

Sundance had barely even come to a stop when Gisela lept from his back and fluttered down to the ground. She landed in the tall grass beside the runway and was so small that she almost vanished. All manner of bugs were disturbed by her arrival, and fled the general area. As he folded his wings, Sundance watched her as she began to explore her surroundings. Was now the time to give her the speech about staying close to home and not wandering off? 

Probably not. 

“Another stray.” 

He did not turn to face Earwig, who approached through the gate, but rather, he watched as the cub pounced upon the fleeing bugs. The older mare drew up alongside him, he heard her sigh, and then the sounds of her pawing the ground reached his ears. Was something wrong? For whatever reason, might she be displeased? Though nothing was said, Sundance felt a faint niggle of worry wiggling in his innards. 

“Oh, she’s cute.” 

Worry turned to relief. 

“A bit owlish, that one. And lynx. We have those around here. Sometimes, we gotta scare them off. It’ll be good to have one protecting us. Well, when she gets bigger. Right now, she’s a bit small. You did bring her home to protect us, right?” 

“That’s for her to choose,” he replied to his trusted friend. 

“There you go again, doing that noble thing.” Earwig moved into Sundance’s vision, and she looked him in the eye. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but that seems to be some of the trouble between you and Hollyhock. I’ve spent some time talking to her and giving her a good sorting out—” 

“I didn’t want her messed with while I was gone. Wasn’t that made clear?” 

“Oh, there was no shouting. Corduroy and I, we just talked with her. Got her calm and sorted out a bit. Found it hard to hold my tongue, but I managed.” 

In the tall grass, Gisela captured a bug; a second later, it was poked into her beak. 

“Holly is a worried sort. She’s spent her whole life worrying, Milord. Not much of a thinker, that one—” 

“Earwig!” 

“No harm in being honest, Milord. She’s not a thinker and she don’t like thinking. Told me and Corduroy so herself. That mare, she worries when things happen. I think she wants somepony in charge so she don’t have to think, she only has to do. Now, you tend to take a hooves off approach, Milord, you do… and that leaves her a bit fretful. All of her life, bad things have happened to her. There’s… things that you don’t know about yet. You might need to step up a bit and act more in charge if you want to put her mind at ease. That’s what Corduroy says. Me, I’m not sure. I’m not smart like Corduroy.” 

The little griffon cub now sat on her haunches, her stubby tail tucked beneath her, and she had bugs kebabed on her front talons. A manic gleam could be seen in her eyes as she watched the wiggly skewered insects, and it occurred to Sundance that there was an openly predatory creature just in front of him that was about to have lunch, or a snack, as the case may be. 

“Are you about to eat those, tot?” asked Earwig. 

“Oui.” 

“We? Milord, did she just… did she just invite me to eat bugs with her?” 

“Don’t be rude, Earwig. If she offers, you should oblige her.” 

“Milord, surely you can’t be serious.” This was said as the cub poked a talon into her mouth and made a bug vanish, which caused Earwig to shudder. 

“Make her feel welcome, Earwig.” 

“Right… steady, old girl. You can do this. You’ve done worse. Alright, tot.” The stocky old mare trudged forward reluctantly, flicked her tail once, and then sat down in the tall grass beside the small cub. “I’m Earwig. I have a sister named Earwax. What’s your name?” 

“Gisela,” the cub replied. 

“Oh, that’s pretty. I can’t help but notice that you’re eating bugs, tot.” 

“Oui.” 

“Yeah. Us. We’re eating bugs. Just the two of us. Alright, tot. Let me have one.” 

As the cub extended her foreleg, Sundance covered his face with his wing because he could not bear to watch. 





“Corduroy, we have a lot to talk about.” After he paused in place, Sundance tilted his head back to peer up at his nurse. “I am in need of your intelligence, Corduroy. We’ll discuss this in detail later. Right now, I need to go clean up the mess with Hollyhock.” 

In response, the immaculately clean diamond dog nodded. Then, she spent a moment to adjust her beanie. Afterwards, she hunkered down to look Sundance in the eye, and she said to him, “Be careful with Hollyhock. Not sure what happened, but she’s been hurt in some way. Your little scuffle this morning has spooked her. I don’t think she was expecting for you to react the way you did. Sundance, I can only guess as to what might have happened, but it’s not hard to figure out. Be cautious if you want to make things better.” 

He gave these words careful consideration, nodded once, and then allowed himself to gaze into Corduroy’s eyes. One pink, one blue, both captivating in their own way. Eyes not at all like a pony, yet remarkably similar. She was his friend, and so much more. There were no words that he could think of to describe their relationship, and after the events of this morning, he very much wanted to show Corduroy the best possible version of himself, because she deserved that. Everypony—everybody—deserved that from him, including Hollyhock. 

After all, he was their Princess Celestia. 

“I wish that we’d met sooner, Corduroy,” he said to her, almost whispering. “If we’d met sooner, I might be a better pony. Some of my preconceived notions might’ve been damaged sooner and I might’ve broke out of my mold.” 

“You go off and meet with the Princess of Friendship, then come back all weird.” Almost smiling, she held out her paw. “And you brought back a fuzzball. You know, some friends pick up chocolates while they’re out.” 

“That’s Gisela. Check her in, weigh her, do all that stuff you do. Oh, and you might want to tell Earwig that she won’t die from eating bugs. As much as I want to talk, there’s something I must do.” 

“You said that you were sorry that I lost my job,” she said to him with ears pricked at attention. “At the time, you were terrified of me. I could smell your fear. But you meant what you said… and then you became angry about my plight, as evidenced by the foul sewage that poured from your potty mouth. Poor Fleur almost fainted. Go sort things out with Hollyhock. She’s in the bunkhouse. Good luck.” 

“Thanks… I needed that. All of that.” With a turn of his head, he faced the bunkhouse. 

“Hello, Gisela, I am Nurse Corduroy. Come over here and let me have a look at you…” 



 

As he approached the door, Sundance halted. For a time, he just stood there, and then the jitters overtook him. The idea of confronting Hollyhock was daunting, and now, just as he was about to go and make things right, he was overcome by anxiety. Which was, perhaps, the problem. He didn’t like confrontation. Or being in charge, for that matter. Hollyhock was right. He took a hooves off approach and just allowed things to happen. Which clearly didn’t work for Hollyhock; she needed a ruler that actually ruled. 

So it fell upon his withers to provide that for her. 

It was his responsibility to provide. 

Was this how things went wrong in the past? Some lord, fed up with the behaviour of his peasants, stopped caring? Stopped providing? A shallow breath almost caught in his throat. Parents could get that way as well, he supposed. How exactly did Princess Celestia keep the fire going? What was it that she did to keep the fires going? As old as she was, for all of the seasons she had seen and borne witness to, how did she manage to keep herself invested in the lives of so many? How could he do the same? Princess Celestia’s care for others was sincere and genuine. Which meant that he could do no less. 

With Twilight’s project, he would be expected to do even more. 

“I can do this,” he muttered to himself. 

Could he? That remained to be seen. The events of the morning left his ears burning with shame and his cheek muscles cramped when he thought about what he’d done. The mess was made. It was now his job to clean it up, for such were the responsibilities of rule. Eyelids suddenly heavy, he stared down at the door latch and thought about all the little faces that would be sure to watch him once he entered. This of course did not help, and extended his moment of hesitation. 

He was sweating now, and there was a distinct heaviness in his guts that he knew didn’t come from lunch. This was almost as bad as knowing there was a test in school. When he opened the door, he would be committed to this course of action; he would have to see it through and there would be no backing out. Once more, he reminded himself that it was his job to help Hollyhock—which meant putting his own feelings aside. 

The little ones were depending upon him to do right and make right… 



 

Cool air struck Sundance’s hot ears and offered some small relief. The inside of the bunkhouse was blessedly cool compared to the scorching heat of summer found outside. He stood at the top of the landing, but did not go down the gently-sloped ramp to his left. Hollyhock rose into a standing position, but nothing was said. Some of the little ones stood up as well, but not a word was spoken. Tension turned the colour crayon-scented air electric. An open book lay upon the floor, along with sheets of paper, some crayons, pencils, and an entire alphabet of wooden blocks. 

With slow, measured steps, he descended the ramp, and his hooves made muffled clip-clops against the textured concrete. Much to his surprise, Bonk held the infant—which surely had to mean that Hollyhock trusted the pup. There were a few toys scattered about, a paltry amount, and Sundance felt that there should be more. Yes, there should be more toys, and it was up to him to do something about that. Perhaps later, when this was all over. 

When he reached the bottom of the ramp, he spotted Earwax, who lay in a bunk with little Tarantula. There was a blissful expression on the colt’s face, but also worry. All of which was mirrored on Earwax’s face. When he turned to look at Hollyhock, she averted her eyes and cast her gaze upon the floor. This made him feel worse; he thought of how others averted their gaze around Princess Celestia. Such behaviour was unwanted, yet here he was. He had to face his own mess. 

Nothing good could come of this much silence. 

“I’m sorry.” Hollyhock almost breathed the words, which were difficult to hear. 

“I am too,” he said to her in a somewhat louder though still muted tone of voice. 

“But”—she blinked, shook her head, and her teeth clicked together—“you’re in charge. Why are you sorry?” 

As much as he wanted to, Sundance did not have an answer. On his way home, he’d rehearsed this in his head. Over and over. Different variations with all of the outcomes he imagined. But he hadn’t rehearsed for this, and so he had no idea of how to respond. Hollyhock was terrified, and he knew why. Already, this showed signs of blowing up in his face, and he wondered if, perhaps, he should sleep on this before he tried to make it right. 

“I was clearly in the wrong,” he said, uncertain if he took the right course of action. “You have issues with how I do things. These issues caused our blowout. Tell me, Hollyhock, what I can do better so that we might avoid trouble in the future.” 

“You want me to tell you how to do your job?” Her tone? Incredulous. Her eyes? Wide with surprise. 

“Yes. Please. If I don’t know what your needs are, then I can’t serve you.” As he spoke, he watched as she bit her lip and began to chew. No doubt, she’d been rehearsing as well, imagining how the conversation went, and she clearly did not expect this. For Sundance, this was something of a profound revelation about expectations. He would have to think upon this later and see what he might learn from it. 

“Uh”—she inhaled, her sides expanded greatly, and some of the fear in her eyes turned to anxiousness—“I had so much to say earlier when I ran my mouth.” 

He offered his agreement: “Indeed, you did.” 

Following this remark, her eyes narrowed, her ears angled forwards, and her mouth became a thin, tight, straight line. She looked at him, he at her, and silence threatened to consume the moment as both of them studied one another. This wasn’t school; he didn’t have the luxury of running away and pretending that none of this had happened. An entire future—several futures—all hinged upon this moment. 

It was far more nerve-wracking than any school exam. 

“You’re too passive,” she said, and mid-sentence her voice cracked—though from fear or anxiousness was unknown. “You’re passive and you don’t actually do much of anything. Stuff happens and you… you just let it happen. When stuff happens, you let others step up to do what should be your job. I get so nervous. Half the time, I don’t know who is running the show, if it is Earwig or Corduroy or Paradox. I stay so uncertain. I lie awake at night and worry that something really bad will happen and you’ll be wishy-washy. And then I think about all of the bad things that might happen because of that.” 

He held his tongue; now was not a good time to speak. 

“My mother was wishy-washy… stuff happened. A lot of stuff happened. Bad stuff. And she was too passive to do anything about it.” Eyes closed, Hollyhock turned her head away from Sundance. A powerful shudder started at her dock, travelled up her spine, and caused her teeth to clatter when it reached her head. “If I were in charge, I’d lay down the law. Things would be done. There would be order. I don’t like this whole ‘who’s in charge at the moment’ thing that’s the day-to-day way of things around here.” 

“So you want me to be decisive…” 

She opened her eyes, but squinted, and nodded. 

“You want me to lay down the law…” 

“A sense of order is important,” she murmured. 

“You want me to get stuff done. Me. I should be in charge and see things through.” 

“Yeah, it might be reassuring,” she said as she stood there and blinked. 

“I should be commanding and lord over Corduroy, Paradox, and Earwig.” 

“Maybe just a little. Just enough to, you know, send a message.” 

“So you want me to put my hoof down…” 

“It would make you less wishy-washy.” 

Sundance inhaled, his cheeks puffed out, and he could not help but wonder what Earwax might be thinking right now. And the little ones, for that matter. What lesson might they be taught from this? His spine felt too tight, his skin too taut, and his guts cramped from anxious tension. The way forward was clear now, and while he hesitated to do it, he knew what needed to be done. 

He had to give Hollyhock exactly what she wanted; it was for her own good. 

“So then… am I to put my hoof down… upon your neck?” 

There was a gasp from Hollyhock. 

“You keep subverting my authority. Tell me, what sort of awful things do you say about me? You bad-mouth me behind my back. What do you say in front of these little ones? How might they grow up? What might they think? What manner of irreparable damage might be done to the future of the barony because you run your mouth?” 

Hollyhock squirmed and then turned her face away. 

“You want me to be decisive. Should I banish you? Cast you out so that you can pay for your crimes? Should I be hard, unfeeling, and merciless? Do you want to be separated from your foals? That’d send a clear message, wouldn’t it? That would certainly cement my rule as The Baron.” 

“I don’t want that,” she whined. 

“So you want me to do that to others… but not you. If you were in charge, you might do that to others, but you yourself, you want yourself held to a different standard. Am I wrong?” 

He waited, and waited, several long seconds passed, and she failed to answer. 

“Well, I’m not going to do that,” he said at last. “Let’s get one thing straight, Hollyhock. This is why I’m in charge, and not you. I hold myself to the same standard as everypony else. I’m not going to send you away, because I need you here. But I can’t let you wreck our future. For all of your faults, you’re a good mom. At least, you have the potential to be. But you have some issues to sort out.” 

Her eyes were squeezed shut now and her own face wrinkled from the effort. 

“Now… Hollyhock, we need to send a clear message to the little ones. Together. You’re their caretaker, and I am also their caretaker. And we want them confident in our authority. We don’t want them all nervous and anxious. They need to know that we’re in charge. We need to show them that we can work together to overcome our differences.” 

With a snort, Hollyhock’s eyes flew open, and went wide just as Sundance reached for her with outspread wings. Her head shook from side to side as she retreated, but he continued his advance with an expression of stern resolve upon his face. Hollyhock backed away until her hindquarters bumped into a bunk bed, and then there was nowhere else to go, no place left to retreat. Sundance, his stomach crawling, knew what he had to do, and hoped that he had the strength to see it through. It was awful, but it had to be done. His submissive nature begged and pleaded with him to stop, to cease this unseemly behaviour at once—but he knew that if he gave up now, it would be detrimental. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, almost in a state of panic. 

“Putting my hoof down,” he replied as he reached for her with his wings. 

“No… don’t do this,” she begged as she pressed herself against the bunk bed. 

“Sorry, but you brought this on yourself, Hollyhock.” 

“I liked you better when you were passive—” 

“You say that now...” 

“It’s not like you to make an example of another… it seems petty. What message are you sending to the little ones right now? Don’t do this!” 

“But you made it necessary,” he said to her as his wings began to encircle her broad neck. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to go, and so he drew her in. When she tried to wiggle away, he pressed himself against her, and overcame her halfhearted attempts to resist him. 

Then, much to his surprise, she went still. All of her efforts to resist ceased and he was able to pull her close. She even leaned against him, and pressed her head against his neck. With his wings wrapped tight around her, he allowed his head to come to rest atop hers, and he felt her ears quiver against his jaw. Oh, how she trembled, and he was all too aware of the fact that he did the same. 

“You are one of mine,” he said to her in a soft voice. “So long as I’m in charge, I will do everything within my power to ensure that no harm comes to you. But you have to let me do things my way. I’m pretty sure that we’ve just established that things would be a disaster if you were in charge.” 

“Yeah, probably.” She sighed out these words, inhaled, but no other words seemed forthcoming. “This is nice. Thank you. You smell like greasy fried onions.” 

He gave her a gentle squeeze, and then just allowed the moment to happen. 

“So, truce then?” she asked. 

“A truce seems reasonable,” he replied. 

“I won’t say bad things about you no more. That was wrong of me. I didn’t even think about how that might mess things up. I feel bad now… mostly because I didn’t think about how that might screw things up. Uh, well, I… I was venting. Just blowing off steam. I don’t know if I even meant it. Well, I meant some of it, but not all of it, and some of it was just me complaining and… and…” 

A massive shudder wracked her body once more. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“No,” she was quick to say. “I’m so shortsighted. I never think of how things might turn out. That’s how I got here. Now I just feel stupid.” 

“Well, don’t feel that way—” 

“I can’t help it.” 

Sundance heard sniffles from behind him, but he didn’t bother to turn around and look. 

“For your sake, I’ll try to be a bit more active and less passive. I thought me being on guard was enough, but I was foolish and made assumptions.” 

“I like it when you’re on guard,” she whispered. “But there are times when I wish that you did more. I don’t know how to put it into words. I’ve spent my whole life never feeling safe.” 

“Well”—he took a moment to consider his words—“do you feel safe right now?” 

She pushed against him hard enough to almost push him back. “Yes. I thought this would be different… but it’s nice. It’s better than screaming and shouting.” 

“I’m not good at conflict,” he said to her. “Because I am submissive and passive.” 

“So this has to be hard for you. What you’re doing now.” 

“Yes,” he replied. 

“But you did it anyway.” 

“It had to be done.” 

“Yeah, it kinda did have to be did. Done.” She paused, then said, “I was wrong about you. You’re not wishy-washy at all. If you’re as uncomfortable as I am… er, as I was… if you can overcome yourself to do this, that’s kinda reassuring.” 

“So, now that we’ve made up, can we be friends?” he asked. 

“It would make us good examples,” she replied. 

“That it would.” 

“I want to be a good mom,” she said to him. “Keep failing at that. Feels bad.” 

“Funny you mention that,” he replied. “I brought you home another fuzzball—” 

“You shouldn’t have.” She pressed her face against the soft skin of his throat and her ears slid along the ridge of his jaw. “Really, you shouldn’t have.” 

“But I did. I brought you home a griffon cub. She’s cute.” 

“But I don’t know a thing about griffons!” 

“You didn’t know about burros or diamond dogs either—” 

“But a griffon… am I going to have to puke down her beak?” 

He struggled to contain a laugh, which threatened all manner of chaos if it escaped. It was too serious a moment to laugh right now. He had to be The Baron and hold it all in. “You’ll think of something, I’m sure. She’s got a sad story. It involves pirates and slavers. Lost her parents. She talks funny too, and has quite an accent.” 

“You have to stop bringing home strays—” 

“But strays like you need a place to live.” 

He felt Hollyhock go still against him. 

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked. 

“I bet she doesn’t feel safe… just like I never felt safe. And with all my complaining, I bet my kids don’t feel safe, because I’ve made them doubt you. Just like my mother did with me.” 

“Oh…” At a loss for words, Sundance wasn’t sure how to smooth this over. 

“Bad mistakes… I just keep making them. That’s how I got here. Why do I do this?” 

He failed to respond in some meaningful way, and it hurt. 

“Hold me just a little longer, please. I need to feel safe right now. I’m having a moment.” 

“Well, we’ll have this moment together, and then I’ll take you to meet Gisela.” 

“Bring home more strays, Sundance. They need a place to feel safe. We can give them that. We can do that together. I’ll make things right… I promise… I promise…” 
> The ship will not hold together
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grey clouds reflected a searing, eye-dazzling brightness that left Sundance squinting as he tried to get a better look at the approaching airship. It was long, broad, and its profile didn’t match any ship he knew. Visitors were coming to the barony, and strangers by the looks of it. Everypony worked at a frantic pace to finish whatever needed to be done, because the afternoon held the promise of rain. A new patch of radishes were put in the ground, something that happened every few weeks. Bonk and Runt made short work of the radish planting and didn’t seem to mind the work. 

The ship drifted closer. 

“Milord, a moment bending your ear if I may—” 

“Gothcruz, you are not one of the oldtimers.” 

“Milord, this is important. Please. A moment.” 

Eyes almost rolling, Sundance let heave a resigned sigh and then gave his full attention to the stout zurro. “Alright Gothcruz. What’s on your mind?” 

“It’s Gisela, Milord. She’s a treasure of great value.” 

“This I already knew. She’s a cute one, Gothcruz.” 

“No, Milord. You don’t understand. Allow me to explain.” 

“Very well, Gothcruz. I’m listening.” 

A chilly-warm breeze blew from the south and tugged upon the ears of many. 

“Milord, she comes from Fancy. Tell me, Milord, what do you know of Fancy?” 

“Not much at all, Gothcruz.” 

“As a lorekeeper, allow me to enlighten you, Milord.” The zurro took a deep breath, smiled, and struck an erudite pose. “The Miracle of Hearthfire never happened in fancy, and because of this, the three tribes were never brought together. They do not have the unity that Equestria enjoys—which likely contributed to the collapse of their nation. All that said, a unique covenant did form… a most curious covenant between earth ponies and griffons.” 

This got Sundance’s attention—all of it. 

“The pact is ancient, though not quite as old as the Covenant of the Three Tribes. Nopony is certain how it happened, or when it happened, only that it happened. The earth ponies had their farms, and the griffons fulfilled the functions of both unicorns and pegasus ponies. Mind you, the earth ponies were not kept as slaves, or pets… these griffons were fierce egalitarians. This was and still is a pact among equals. The griffons do the things that earth ponies can’t do because they lack fine manipulation and they protect the earth ponies so that the land can be tilled. 

“It is a shared existence between equals. Their young are raised together and there are hippogriffs… in fact, hippogriffs are most common in this part of the world. And Gisela comes from this culture. Surely that will be a boon for us. She will grow up and pass this culture along to her offspring. We can graft that culture unto our own. I foresee good things coming of this.” 

“She’s too young,” Sundance said to the somewhat excited zurro. “I mean, I’m sure she remembers some of it, but she won’t grow up steeped in that culture. She’ll grow up in our culture.” 

“I will make sure she remembers,” Gothcruz said as his barrel puffed out. “She will not forget. I will nurture this tiny flame until it is a roaring fire. She will remember. She will remember!” 

“You’re passionate about this, aren’t you?” asked Sundance. 

“Very much so. It will be an excellent test of my skills as a lorekeeper. Twilight Sparkle frowns upon the assimilation that happens in modern Equestria. She feels that other nations and other cultures have something to contribute to our own. It might take a lifetime, but I have finally found a worthy project.” 

“Well then”—nodding, Sundance offered up a sincere smile to Gothcruz—“don’t let that flame go out. Secure our future, Gothcruz. See what you can do about establishing this covenant in our barony. Any future griffon strays I bring home, I want you to work on them as well.” 

“I would be honoured,” the zurro replied. 

“It seems to me that we’re isolated enough to make this work,” Sundance remarked. “At least for now. This isolation might actually work to our advantage. We can let ideas like these take root. I think.” 

“That seems reasonable, Milord. Things are bound to change and evolve over time, but we can influence how future generations develop.” 

Reaching around with his wing, Sundance stroked his chin and had himself a good think right on the spot. For some reason, he thought of his mother, and the city of Baltimare. His attitudes about diamond dogs were learned from his mother, and from the city around him. No such preconceived notions existed here. At least, not yet. What he had was relative isolation and a gaggle of impressionable little ones—whose thoughts could be influenced. 

“Gothcruz…” 

“Yes, Milord?” 

“Could you concoct a bit of lore?” 

“What are you asking, Milord?” 

“We have Bonk and Runt…” 

“You’re asking me to…” 

Sundance nodded. 

The zurro turned solemn. “This could have far-reaching effects. I was so excited about Gisela that I didn’t even think of… well… whatever it is that you’re thinking of right now. Much could be done. This would be a great work. Not just keeping a culture alive… but adapting it and spreading it to others.” 

“There are diamond dogs who crave honour and virtue. I know this because of Corduroy. We could… we could create a culture… craft honour and virtue. I think. I wonder what Corduroy would say about this. What about you, Gothcruz… up for a challenge?” 

“You want me to draw upon an existing culture and invent an entirely new one?” the zurro asked. 

“You said it yourself… nopony knows when or how it happened. It just did. So somepony probably made it happen. Or some griffon. Clearly, a thinking, thoughtful mind made something happen and it stuck. Is there no reason why we can’t do the same, Gothcruz?” 

“Princess Celestia was wise to put you in charge… I only thought of the immediate solution.” Eyes narrowed, the zurro’s expression became one of intense thoughtfulness. 

“Make it happen, Gothcruz. Do whatever it takes.” 

“It will be done, Milord. Excuse me, but I must go and collect my thoughts. Perhaps some meditation is an order.” 

As the zurro departed, Sundance resumed his watchful vigil, and kept an eye upon the incoming ship. Up to this point, the isolation seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, but now he saw that it could be an asset. Of course, the isolation could not last. The outside world would creep in. With each new resident, a little more of the outside world would make its influence felt. He wasn’t certain of how this might turn out, but he was hopeful. Yes, he was most hopeful. 

Refreshed, invigourated, he prepared to meet his guests… 



 

The airship was massive and ancient looking. It had also seen better days. The nacelle was mostly patchwork, the hull was a mish-mash of planks of wood and steel plates, and black soot pooted from the rear of the enormous craft. It was rather amazing that the scrapheap stayed in the air at all—though anything was theoretically possible with magic. Upon closer inspection as the airship drew near, Sundance could see that the hull sagged; there was a visible curve to the keel of the ship along the bottom. While it wasn’t quite a banana, it wasn’t a straight line. 

Then, Sundance noticed a familiar face peering down at him from over the rail. 

“Tally-ho, Baron Sundance!” 

“Turmeric, should I come up there to get you? It doesn’t look safe!” 

“It’s a bit scary,” the unicorn hollered in return, “but I was promised that she’ll hold together!” 

Just as these words were spoken, an enormous metal plate dislodged from the hull and fell down to the earth below. Several yards long, and maybe a yard or two in width, it floated down in much the same way a leaf didn’t, landed corner first in the soft soil, and then stuck up out of the ground like a rusty, dented tombstone. Sundance eyeballed it with astonished concern. 

“Save me, handsome prince!” Turmeric shouted. 

Without a word, Sundance’s wings snapped out from his sides, and he was airborne in an instant… 



 

“How embarrassing,” a rather greenish unicorn said as Sundance landed upon the deck. “The old dame is showing her age, I reckon. She’s a pre-war battle frigate. Though now she’s a brewery.” 

The deck was relatively new looking, and didn’t appear to be terribly dangerous. Beside the unicorn mare was a griffoness with cloudy eyes, and there was an earth pony colt next to the old griffoness. Sundance folded in his wings as Turmeric approached, and his stomach lurched as the ship heaved and groaned beneath his hooves. As scary as it was, Turmeric was in good spirits. 

“Sundance!” Turmeric sprang forward and gingerly crossed the deck. “Sundance, this is Hoppy… she’s the unicorn. Grandmother Growler is the griffoness, and the colt’s name is Wort. He’s Hoppy’s son. Hoppy just so happens to be one of your anonymous investors. One of the nice ponies who helped us get out of debt. Now she seeks a return on her investment.” 

“That I do!” the cheerful mare cried. 

“What can I do for you?” Sundance asked as the ship shuddered once more. 

“Well,” Turmeric replied, “she’s looking for a place to homestead and set up her business. She’s a brewer, Sundance, and she flew from place to place, securing hops and malt and barley and whatever else goes into beer, and then flew into the city to sell it. But, uh, as you can see, well, uh—” 

“The old gal is falling apart,” Hoppy said. “I wanted a safe place to raise my son. So no cities. Land is expensive round these parts. A bit too expensive. So I took all my savings that I was gonna use to renovate my ship, and I invested. I understand you have some nice plots of land out here. And lots of geothermally active vents. Smells like ass… just as I had hoped.” 

“Typically, that is not a desired feature,” Sundance remarked. 

“It is for a brewer,” Hoppy replied with a broad smirk. “All that free heat. Good for brewing. When I think of the money I’ll save, it makes me wet!” 

The old griffoness rolled her milky eyes, sighed, and shook her head from side to side. 

“I ain’t asking for much. Just a place to set up shop. My wants and needs are simple. I need a suitable location with lots of vents. A hot spot. I need access to fresh water. Oh, and I need land enough to grow all the stuff I need to make beer. And labourers. Once I have a spot to put down, I plan to establish myself, get myself a transport ship, and then sell beer and spirits to Canterlot. They don’t mind the markup.” 

A transport ship? 

“You have my attention and my interest,” Sundance said to the obnoxiously cheerful mare. 

“See, Grandmother, I told you this would work. Not all ponies are stingy skinflints. I think we’ll be fine.” 

The old griffoness sighed once more, her beak opened, but then she maintained her silence. Sundance, rather glad that he was not a stingy skinflint, now wondered how a pony had a griffoness grandmother. He heard the sounds of the old griffoness’ claws tapping on the deck and he watched as the small colt shuffled closer to his grandmother. 

“So, Baron… can we do business?” asked Hoppy. 

“We can,” he replied. “As just so happens, I am in need of homesteaders.” 

“Need a wife?” the boisterous mare asked. “I has me a fertile valley you might be interested in.” She winked, and then her tongue flicked out of the corner of her mouth to lick her lips. “I understand you’re not married. As it turns out, I’m not married either. But I’m open to an agreeable business arrangement.” 

“I’m not.” He felt a trickle of sweat beneath his wings and Sundance couldn’t imagine being this forward about such things. “I’m not married, that is. But I am open to a business agreement.” 

Grandmother Growler glaringly glared in his direction with a sightless stare. 

“We should discuss this over tea.” Neck straight, Sundance assumed a stiff and starchy posture. “When did you plan to get set up?” 

“Well”—the rather greenish unicorn paused for a few seconds while her eyes glittered mischievously—“today would be good. Today would be fine. As it turns out, I only bought enough coal to get me here. See, I figured that if you said no, and I was stuck here for a time, I might be able to use my charms and wiles to change your mind. But if I can stay today, that spares me a lot of trouble. Besides… I’m not sure the old gal could make the return trip. That knock in the engine is making everything come apart.” 

As if to drive home her point, the whole ship shivered, and the groan of metal fatigue sounded a lot like whalesong. The old gal was dying, Sundance realised, and the barony would be her place of final rest. A part of him felt sad, and he had no idea why he suddenly mourned an inanimate object that he’d never even seen before today. She’d done her duty right up until the end. Held together for one final journey. It was such an odd feeling to have, this peculiar sadness. 

“Welcome to the Sunfire Barony,” he said as he spread his wings. “We hope that you make yourselves at home. Come, let us discuss this in a safer location. There’s a mooring ring atop the belltower. I’ll get you secured.” 

“Thanks, Hunky!” 

“Sundance… when you go”—Turmeric’s eyes were pleading—“take me with you!” 
> Bored room meetings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, that is the plan, and what is expected of me.”  

Sundance finished his words with a soft sigh to punctuate them, and then glanced around the enormous wooden table that dominated the room. He’d already explained this to Corduroy and Paradox after he’d sorted things out with Hollyhock, and saying it all again caused his thoughts on the matter to shift around inside of his head. Having said it all again, he still didn't know how he felt about it, or how he should feel about it. The sheer enormity of his task was daunting, yet he felt confident that it could be done. 

Across the table, Hoppy and Grandmother Growler had different reactions, at least from what Sundance could observe. Hoppy seemed a bit bored, but showed polite attentiveness. The old blind griffoness however, something about her demeanour suggested keen interest. She’d listened and hung on every word. Her eyes, clouded and milky, seemed to be focused on Sundance even though she couldn’t see. Hearing, he supposed. 

“Well, I gotta say, when I invested, I didn’t expect to be part of an experiment for Equestria’s future.” Front legs folded over her barrel, Hoppy sucked in a deep breath, held it for a short time, and then let it all out in a prolonged exhale. “Are you serious? About the money thing, I mean. She wants you to create a society that has no need for coin? Everypony just gets what they need when they need it? How do I fit into that? This is a money making venture.” 

He expected these questions, and yet was still somehow unprepared for them. Sundance tapped his front hooves together, rubbed his wings against his sides, and wished that he was just a bit smarter. “We’ll need to sort that out, I suppose. Look, all of this was just sort of sprung on me and I really haven't had a chance to figure it all out just yet. We need money to make everything work, obviously, but I’m not quite sure how to handle the moneymakers. The barony needs to turn a profit to provide for the needs of the many. I’m sorry that things are complicated at the moment.” 

“Rustic is going to have fits when he hears about all of this.” Slumped over against the table, Turmeric shook his head from side to side. “He’ll complain about getting the hives or getting dried skin in delicate places—” 

“Oh, I hate dried skin in delicate places. There’s nothing worse than chapped lips.” Almost smiling, Hoppy squirmed for a bit, then went still. “It’s hard to do a sexy sashay when everything’s all dried out and clingy back there.” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Turmeric mmm-hmmed with a limp-fetlocked wave that made his hoof sway from side to side. “But we have it worse than you do, honey. Us boys don’t have a built in moisturiser back there. No dispenser of moisturising lotion to assist with our motion. When the purse goes dry, we start to cry.” 

As a befuddled Sundance tried to make sense of everything said, Hoppy tittered. 

Corduroy, who’d been quite still for a while, suddenly began to rub her jowls with both paws. Meanwhile, Paradox stared out the window with a blank expression and Sundance could tell that she’d checked out of the current conversation. As for himself, Sundance suffered from the opposite problem; the summer heat left him in a perpetual state of sogginess that he didn’t much care for. Everything seemed to be going off-course, until the old griffoness cleared her throat and at long last, broke her silence. 

She hadn’t said a word since her arrival, but now she had something to say. Her voice was low, gravelly, and sounded as though she gargled with whiskey every morning. “You mentioned near the start that you had brewers here.” 

“Yeah,” Sundance replied. “Good Spirits and Rusty Tap. Though from what little I know, their equipment is in bad repair. Not much gets made these days. A bit of cider gets pressed in the autumn.” 

“Uh-huh.” The crotchety old griffoness’ feathers were now ruffled as she somehow seemed to focus her sightless gaze upon Sundance. “Well… it don’t feel right to employ them and profit off their labour without paying them.” 

“I only brought it up as a suggestion—” 

“Quiet down, youngun,” the stern old griffoness snapped as she leaned over the table. “If all our needs is met, we have food to eat and a place to live and work… I can’t see us having much need for money beyond the cost of our supplies. So—” 

“Granny—” 

“Hoppy, yer not too big for me to put a spoon right ‘crossed yer arse, girl.” 

“Right, Granny. Shutting my sass-hole now.” 

With a sigh of exasperation, the old greying griffoness rolled her sightless eyes, and then returned her attention to Sundance. “I like Twilight Sparkle. Met her once. She was nice. Respected her elders.” Somehow, the sightless elderly griffoness cast a vicious bit of side-eye in Hoppy’s direction. “For Twilight’s sake, I don’t mind contributing to the greater good… that is, assuming that you’re willing to cover all of the costs. If you get us everything we need, we’re happy to provide for all.” 

“Granny, now wait a minute—” 

“Got something to say girl?” Grandmother Growler asked in a particularly growly voice. 

Alarmed, Hoppy yanked her head back, seemed to reconsider, and then shook her head. “No sass, Granny. No sass, I promise. But you were the one that was fretting about turning a profit after we spent our savings. Now this. I just… I just didn’t expect this from you, that’s all.” 

“This is beyond us, girl. We has us a chance to give Wort a good life. You heard what Sundance said about the earth ponies.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“And wasn’t it you that said that there’s nothing that you wouldn’t pay to give your son the future he deserves?” 

“Yeah, I said that. I keep saying that. Wasn’t expecting to have my own words used against me.” All of Hoppy’s mischievousness drained away and the young mare seemed older somehow, such was her sudden morose state. “Little Wort can grow up here… and he’ll never want for anything. I do worry about that. Been all over Equestria. The cities are awful. I’m scared for my son.” 

“So do something about it, girl.” 

After a sigh of defeat, Hoppy said, “Right. I’m on board. When in Roan, do as the Roanans. I’ll do this for Wort.” 

“All I ask for in return is some say in what goes on seeing as how I’ll be a big-time financial contributor.” 

“That can be done… uh…” 

“Call me Granny,” the blind griffoness said. “I’m a brewer, an alchemist, a potter, a tanner, a tailor, but the most important job I have is being Hoppy’s grandmother. It’s the only job that matters. Everything else is a side-gig.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Corduroy said with noticeable politeness, “how does a griffoness such as yourself end up a pony’s grandmother?” 

“I had just turned fifty,” Grandmother Growler replied as her tone softened ever-so-slightly. “On the day of my fiftieth year since hatching, I found me a scrawny half-starved yearling. A little scrapper. Went to go and turn her in, but I didn’t like the look of the orphanage. It stunk of despair and unwholesomeness. Tried to find her a proper home, but no such luck. After a few weeks, I adopted her. But the little sass-pot wouldn’t call me ‘Mama’ after all the trouble I went though, no. The little cuss called me ‘Granny.’ Ungrateful little foul-mouthed fart-fountain.” 

When Corduroy and Turmeric snickered, Hoppy’s greenish face somehow reddened. 

“I think”—Sundance spoke in measured tones—“that you’ll fit right in here, Granny.” 



 

A steady rain murmured against the roof of the gatehouse and ran in glistening rivulets down the slope of the overhead skylight. On the table, a half-full cup of tea cooled and Sundance—almost napping, his head nodding—stifled a yawn as Turmeric opened box after box. So many boxes, each filled with binders, which were filled with paperwork. Forms. Filings. Bureaucracy given physical form, paper, and scented with cheap ink. Even though she’d only been gone a short time, Sundance wished that Hoppy had stayed—because she was exciting, even if she was somewhat obnoxious. 

He decided it was best to stave off boredom with conversation. 

“So what have you brought me, Turmeric?” 

“Paperwork,” the yellowish unicorn replied. “Since we are now a corporate entity, we need to sort out what we do as a corporation. Only we’re not a small mom & pop business… but a major corporation, our gears have been gummed with the finest bureaucracy that Equestria has to offer. Only we don’t have a division of bureaucrats to sort it all out. There’s just you… and me… and Rustic said he’ll kill us if we try to make him do this.” 

“Yes, but what is all this stuff?” 

“It is… I don’t know what it is.” Wearing a good-natured scowl, Turmeric lifted a binder out of a box and set it on top of the colour-coded binders that also came out of that box. “Each binder is Crown-regulated to be no more than eight-hundred and fifty pages, because a page more than that would be upsetting somehow. Each box contains a maximum of twenty binders, also per Crown-regulation, and we have twenty-three boxes that we need to sort out.” 

“I should have you thrown in the dungeon for even suggesting that I do all that math.” 

“Promises, promises, Sundance.” 

“Why is there a box of pens? Are those also somehow Crown-regulated?” 

“They are, actually,” the industrious and well-organised unicorn replied. “Special pens with magic ink. They’ll make the job easier. The ink will vanish upon request if a mistake is made, and these pens will write through the Crown-regulated octuplicate paperwork.” 

“Oh… that’s just mean… I dealt with that during my genealogy project.” Almost grimacing, Sundance lifted up his teacup, pressed it to his lips, hesitated for but a brief moment, and then finished off the cup with a rather rude gulp. After he licked his lips, he quietly said, “Bring it on, Turmeric. Bring it on.” 



 

Surrounded by paperwork and binders, Sundance almost felt as though he had himself a comfortable nest. A fresh hot cup of tea awaited his attention, but he ignored it for the time being. The pen-shoe mounted to his hoof didn’t fit very well, but it would do. He’d dealt with such discomfort before and an ill-fitting pen-shoe was better than no pen-shoe. Turmeric was still organising—which Sundance appreciated beyond any means to convey his gratitude. A unicorn’s assistance might just make this possible. 

“Employee incentives,” Sundance read to himself as he stared down his nose at the open binder set before him. “Turmeric… would you say that we have an employee cafeteria?” 

“You’re asking me?” 

“Well, I know how I see it, but I want to know how others might see it.” 

“Good call.” A pile of binders were adjusted until all were squared. “There is a communal dining hall… which I guess functions as a cafeteria.” 

“Indeed, it does.” Sundance kept his pen away from the paper for now. Sort everything out first, get every detail in line, and then, and only then, did one begin to write. “It wants to know if our employee cafeteria is stratified by rank and position. Seeing as how I’m management and I eat in there, I do believe that it is safe to say that our employee cafeteria is open to all… and it isn’t segregated by tribe. And we don’t have any exclusive employee areas that can only be reached with flight or magic.” 

“Oh… we’re going to be here for a long time. That’s not even the whole of the first page, is it?” 

“Maybe a quarter or so of the first page,” Sundance replied. “Steady, Turmeric. Try not to think of the tedium ahead. It is best if you turn off your brain. Just… don’t think about anything other than what is absolutely necessary.” 

With the binders perfectly squared, Turmeric settled down and sighed. 

“We do not charge for meals at the register, we do not have an instituted credit plan, and we do not subtract the cost of meals per diem from the paycheck because there are no paychecks.” As he peered down at the page, a steady calm overcame Sundance. “No, we haven’t done a productivity study to determine the benefits of tea, coffee, or stimulating drinks… but perhaps we should. There’s a tax incentive that we could claim if we did. Turmeric, make a note and find out how we go about doing that.” 

“Right. Got it.” Lifting up a notepad, Turmeric began to scratch out a reminder with a plain wooden pen. 

“We do not discriminate or segregate based on dietary needs, necessities, or restrictions,” Sundance read to himself as he progressed down the page. “Corduroy is a vegetarian, but we have little ones that aren’t. They’ll be eating with the rest of us. Turmeric, it seems to me that corporate culture seems to focus a great deal on segregating employees.” 

“Well, if you keep them apart, and somehow make them not like each other, it is so much harder for them to unionise,” the yellowish unicorn replied. “Management is far less sympathetic to the worker’s plights if they remain as strangers.” 

“Ah. That makes sense.” 

His eyes roamed across the unsatisfyingly blocky paragraphs written in the most mind-numbing font in all of existence. Nothing fancy, no flourishes, absolutely nothing that might increase the amount of ink (and thereby the cost) required to print. Thin, skinny letters with no ligatures. Legs were hair thin, as were arms. Ears were sparing and almost non-existent. Shoulders were narrow and slight. Tails barely existed and the thin spines seemed as though they barely held their letters upright. Strokes were perfunctory, straight, and austere. It was the visual equivalent of an iron maiden with dulled spikes—you died of boredom and discomfort, not of blood loss or agony. 

“There’s a section here about feeding employees during times of financial hardship, illness, and inability to work. Which we do. If somepony is sick, we still feed them. Which means we need to fill out the forms located in section eleven-eleven-nine-four-three, both canary and rose-pink, but not blue, unless we also feed the family of said employee. Oh goodness, this will be complicated. We’ll need to sort this out, Turmeric.” 

“But… I don’t wanna… and there’s two pinks. Which one is which, Sundance?” 



 

The late afternoon sun streamed through the skylight and cast a radiant golden glow upon the bureaucratic mess strewn across the table. Oh, everything was in perfect order, but it was an organised mess whose state of organisational perfection belied the chaotic morass printed upon the pages. Sundance, enduring and as indomitable as the sun, remained on task, while poor Turmeric lay sprawled in a dead heap upon the floor. 

“Four pinks, Sundance… four… what sort of fiend would do this?” 

“A worthy foe, Turmeric.” 

“I can’t feel my brain.” 

“It’s not that bad, Turmeric. We have blush, rose, coral, and salmon.” 

Unmoving, his body limp and appearing to be quite dead, the yellowish unicorn let heave a groan. 

“The Paperwork Colouration Act was supposed to bring a new era of organisation,” Sundance remarked. “White paper all looks the same, so adding some colour would allow certain documents to stand out and you could visually determine a document’s relative importance so that you could—” 

“Oh dear Celestia… you’ve studied the history of bureaucracy, haven’t you? Haven’t you, you sicko! You’re a sick, sick, twisted pony, Sundance!” 

“Well, just a little. If you study the history, it helps you understand how it all works. It gives you context and insight into how it all functions.” 

“You have a sickness of the brain, Sundance. Listen to yourself. You’re barely even phased by this… this… foul evil. And I’m down here on the floor… dying.” 

“You’re not dying—” 

“I can’t feel my brain and I must have flunked kindergarten, because I can only see pink paper. There’s no telling which is which.” 

“Salmon is a bit orangish—” 

“Ugh, no… make it stop! Don’t turn me into your bureaucratic zombie! Please, I beg you!” 

“We’re hardly even into the first binder,” Sundance said to the dramatic corpse of his friend on the floor. “Why, we haven’t even reached employee housing benefits yet.” 

“This is how bureaucrats become soulless, ain’t it?” 

At this, Sundance hesitated a bit before he replied, “Well, maybe…” 

“This is what you did to earn this barony, right? Your project? This is what you spent years doing? Lurking in some smelly basement somewhere and filling out paperwork? Days and days and days spent without ever seeing the sun, or even another pony, lost in a confusing void of bureaucratic processes, the sort that drives a common pony to insanity?” 

“We’ll now I have a skylight and I’m not in a musty basement, so it’s not so bad.” 

“Ugh!” 

“Do you need a break, Turmeric? We here at Sunfire Inc. offer excellent employee benefits, including breaks at any time. I read the index… there’s a whole seventy-one page section about employee breaks. I can’t wait to see how they stretched that out to over seventy pages.” 

“AAAAAA—aaaaa—AAAA! I can feel my mind going!” 

“But I thought you said that you couldn’t feel your brain…” 



 

Corduroy hefted the limp unicorn up and held him at eye level while she examined him with a critical eye. “What have you done to Turmeric, Sundance? He’s a mess.” 

“Bureaucratic shellshock?” He shrugged. “Maybe he gazed into the paperwork abyss and didn’t like what peered back? We all face the darkness in our own way.” 

“Save me, Corduroy,” the feeble unicorn wheezed. “Don’t let Sundance turn you into a zombie…” 

With a heavy, heaving snort, Corduroy cradled Turmeric in her long, broad arms, and rocked him from side to side. “Hoppy and Granny seem to fit right in here, Sundance. I could probably learn a few things from Granny. Her knowledge of medical soaps is well-beyond my own.” 

This was a relief to hear and Sundance allowed himself to relax a bit as his brain unkinked. Saying nothing, he quietly filed this tidbit away and wondered how medical soaps might sell. It was but one product among many that the barony might offer, means for them to turn a profit for the sake of Twilight’s vision. He watched as Corduroy babied Turmeric and something of a smirk could be seen upon the calm pegasus’ muzzle. 

“Is the paperwork really that bad?” asked Corduroy. 

“It’s worse,” Sundance replied with cold honesty. “But I can manage it. Turmeric here, he’s great at organising and keeping things neat, tidy, and sorted out, but he’s not great at the mind-numbing tedium.” 

“But organising is tedium. I mean, it’s drudgery, but it must be done. I keep things neat, clean, and organised because it reflects well upon me as a nurse. There’s plenty about the job that I don’t enjoy.” 

Again, Sundance shrugged. “Come and help, if you’d like. We’ll see how long you last.” 

“Is that a challenge?” 

With a pleading whine, Turmeric said to the diamond dog nurse, “Corduroy… no… don’t do it! He’ll read things to you that no mortal ears were meant to hear!” 

“Shush, you.” Then, to Sundance, she said, “I’ll see what I can do to help.” 

“That’d be appreciated, because we have three whole binders dedicated to employee healthcare benefits, incentives, preventative health complication management, and long term employee fitness planning.” 

“Three?” Corduroy blinked. 

“Each binder has a maximum of eight-hundred and fifty pages,” Sundance remarked. 

Upon hearing this, Corduroy’s tail sagged and ceased to wag. 

Sundance tried to feel bad for what he’d just done to his nurse, but failed to muster even a mote of sympathy, or an iota of pity. Her sagging jowls and pleading eyes failed to stir any warmth or feeling in his heart. She would find out soon enough. Turmeric handled it all with melodrama and theatrics; how would Corduroy cope with all of this? He’d find out soon enough. But for now, a break was needed so that Turmeric could recover. 

“How about a bit of a walk?” asked Sundance. 

“Yes,” Turmeric replied, “the condemned deserve a walk.” 

“Just think of the employee health benefits,” replied Corduroy. “A walk sounds fine…” 
> Incentives
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We do, in fact, offer an employee daycare service,” Sundance mumbled whilst he held his pen at the ready. “And we’ll soon have a school open. So, we offer offspring daycare, education, and nutritional assistance as employee benefits. And we do so without cost to the employee. Corduroy, Turmeric, and Paradox… we need to determine an approximate cost value of the offspring and extended family services that we offer.” 

“Don’t forget, the little ones get healthcare too.” 

“Right, Corduroy. Thank you. We need to include that in the relative cost analysis so we can determine which level of incentives we provide.” 

“I’m starting to think that the financial value of the incentives that we provide might actually exceed what the common low-wage worker might make in a year.” Brushing her mane away from her face with her foreleg, she continued, “And maybe beyond that. I mean, we provide everything. We’re ticking every box… such as the case might be. We might get accused of exaggerating the services we provide. Will that get us audited?” 

While Sundance felt some concern about what Paradox said, he failed to muster any feelings about it. They did seem to provide every service in some way, every need was met—but there were no paychecks. There was a whole section of employee pay that they would be able to mercifully skip. Because that was one thing that Sunfire Inc. did not provide. 

“There’s a thing about exployee deathcare.” 

“Corduroy, I think you mean employee—” 

“No, Paradox… it says right here, ‘exployee’. It goes on to use this word quite a bit.” 

Almost cringing, Paradox said, “I don’t know if that’s clever or horrific.” 

“We buried Cucumber here.” Suddenly, Sundance had feeling once more, and he wished he didn’t. 

“So yes, we do offer funerary services and deathcare. Sunfire Inc. We’ll carry you from your cradle to your grave.” When there was no laughter, Turmeric slunk down and sulked whilst he cast sullen, accusatory glances left, right, and center. 

“There’s a subsection here about trade schools and potential employees,” Paradox said to Sundance. “The foals we keep… the little ones, they are future employees, right? So can we say that we offer trade school education and apprenticeship opportunities for employee offspring? And if the answer is yes, which I think it is, does that grant them opportunities for advanced positions within the company? I mean, the answer is yes, but how on Princess Celestia’s green grass do we calculate a financial value for this employee service?” 

“I don’t know,” Sundance replied. 

“What constitutes a trade school?” asked Turmeric. “I mean, I know what a trade school is… but there can be such a broad definition. From beauty schools to diplomas earned through the mail. The costs are all so different. How do we even begin to tackle this?” 

“If I train our future nurses and alchemists, do I assign the value of a traditional nursing school or alchemy academy?” Perplexed, Corduroy reached up, grabbed her own jowls, and then began to tug on them, which distorted her face in odd ways. “Do I even count as a qualified instructor?” 

“All good questions,” Paradox said in response to Corduroy’s words. 

“I am really, really, really annoyed that Sundance doesn’t look as miserable as the rest of us do right now,” Corduroy said matter-of-factly. “In fact, I’m about ready to chuck him right out the window. We’re all suffering from terminal brain drain and he’s over there all calm and serene.” 

Eyes narrowed, Turmeric said, “I think the sicko might actually be enjoying himself.” 

“Oh, that’s just perverse,” Paradox huffed as she turned her offended glare upon Sundance. 

“It’s a thankless job,” Sundance said to his friends, “but somepony has got to do it…” 



 

For whatever reason, the dining hall reminded Sundance of the school cafeteria, and not in a good way. It was loud this evening, far noisier than usual, and there was a sense of excitement in the air that felt very much like school about to be let out for summer. That curious sensation of anxious anticipation. While he tried to enjoy himself, he found that he was curiously out of sorts, though he could not say why. His friends were certainly enjoying themselves though, now that they were away from the plethora of paperwork. 

Even Hollyhock seemed to be in a good mood, surrounded by her brood. There was, in fact, a noticeable difference in her mood. She was happy—even boisterous. Hollyhock was a mare clearly living out her purpose and it showed. It was a profound change, one of the weird overnight varieties. From the looks of things, she was trying to teach them table manners, and Sundance began to wonder if etiquette had an assigned financial value of some sort. 

These were salad days; literal salad days. He glanced down at the greens upon his plate and tried to think of how costly they might be if purchased in the city. Everything on his plate was grown right here. Peas, baby carrots, strange lettuces and green things that he didn’t know the name of. And dandelion greens, which he thought would be awful, until he tried them. As it turned out, dandelion greens were delicious, and even more so when drenched in the fruity vinegar made by Good Spirits and Rusty Tap. 

“Granny was right, I think.” 

“Corduroy, I don’t follow. Sorry.” 

“Sundance, it would be good if you had a privy council.” 

“A potty council?” 

Teeth bared, Corduroy rolled her eyes while Turmeric snickered. Then she said, “No, a privy council. I mean, you sort of have one now. But Granny would make a good addition to it.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” It took a moment, but Turmeric turned serious. “If Rustic were here, he would tell you all about frugal griffons and how wonderful they are as business partners. He has several. Granny strikes me as that type. She’s miserly and wise.” 

“A privy council, you say.” Thoughtful, Sundance took a bite of food that was perhaps a bit too large, and then, after he slurped in a few oily, vinegary greens, he began to chew. 

“You can’t get greens this fresh in Canterlot,” Turmeric remarked. “Well, you can… but the restaurants that sell them, you either have to stand in line and hope to get in, or you have to reserve seating. The restaurants pay so much for the freshest greens that the greengrocers can’t actually afford them. So everything that they get is basically the stuff that the restaurants reject. Rustic has been complaining about it a lot lately.” 

“Sounds like somepony needs to strike up an exclusive deal with the greengrocers,” Paradox said in response. “That might represent opportunity for us.” 

“True, but we’d make more money if we became restaurant suppliers,” Turmeric said in return. 

“I think we should learn a lesson from Prince Gosling.” Sundance licked his lips, stifled a belch, wiped his muzzle with his foreleg, and then stifled another belch, this one a great deal more ferocious.

“Sundance?” 

“Nuance taught me that little ones have a lot to offer,” Sundance said, explaining himself to his friends. “Should I have a privy council, we should check and see if any of the barony’s little ones hold any sort of interest at all. And if any of them do hold some interest, and don’t die of boredom right away, we should include them as much as possible. They’ll learn and grow up. Grow into the position, I think is what I’m trying to say. Only good things could come from such a plan.” 

“You’re a lot like Princess Celestia, Sundance.” After she wiped her muzzle, Paradox belched, patted her barrel with her hoof, and then continued, “She pulls exceptional students from the school and lets them work on various community and civics projects. The younger, the better. They don’t know that certain things are impossible yet. She sent Twilight to Ponyville when Twilight was still quite young.” 

“And she sent you to me. A sure sign that you’re exceptional.” 

“Sundance, stop. My ears are on fire and my cheeks are hot. Stop that.” 

“Twilight was sent to Ponyville to stop the world from ending,” Corduroy said as Paradox fanned herself. “Now that Twilight has stopped the world from ending at least a dozen times, it seems as though it falls on us to figure out some kind of future for this world. Sundance, as we’ve all seen, can handle the paperwork. How he does what he does remains a mystery. So it falls upon the rest of us to put our heads together and make this work somehow. We don’t want to rely upon Sundance’s magical stupidity—” 

“Hey, Moondancer said I was a magical moron… that’s several grades better than just mere stupidity.” Feathers a bit ruffled, Sundance sucked in a deep breath, fought to hide a smile, turned to Corduroy and then said, “At least I’ll survive the paperwork. Can’t say the same for the rest of you weaklings.” 

“I have half a mind to throw a string bean at you!” 

“Turmeric, your half a mind can’t tell apart the different shades of pink paper. What sort of interiour decorator would you make with the utter inability to recognise different shades of pink?” 

“Oh, Sundance! You wound me! You brute, you brute, you overbearing brute!” Swaying from side to side, Turmeric placed his hoof against his forehead, just below his horn, and acted as though he might faint. “My precious bunghole has been torn asunder from this relentless, unlubricated assault!” 

“Oh yuck! Keep that to yourself, Turmeric.” 

“Sorry, Paradox. Caught up in the moment. Are you going to be alright, sweetie?” 

“Yeah… maybe… just… be more careful before you say stuff like that.” 

“I really am sorry.” All of Turmeric’s theatrics vanished and warm sincereness took over his eyes. “It’s easy to forget. I get carried away. Oh, I feel bad now.” 

“Well, don’t feel bad,” Paradox said to Turmeric. “Just be more careful.” 

“Still friends?” 

“Yeah… I just… I just gotta… I need some time to get my head together.” 

Ears pricked, Sundance noticed that Paradox didn’t sound like herself. Her words were all off, and her slow, halting speech wasn’t like her at all. Yes, he thought to himself, she was shaken by this. But still, she held together. However hurt she might be, she wasn’t running away or fleeing from the room. His friends were friends with one another—and something about that left him hopeful. Twilight had done great things with her friends and their storied friendship; could he do no less? 

Together, they could survive endless reams of bureaucratic drivel put to paper. 



 

The day was almost over, and what a day it had been. Now, the last of the light cast long shadows over everything and the dining hall was now a subdued place. All around Hollyhock, little heads bobbed—with the exception of Gisela, who was wide awake. Scarily so. Sundance knew that the little griffoness cub would cause all sorts of bedtime problems, but he was too amused to care. At the moment, Express Delivery was trying all sorts of pegasus tricks to shush the wee cub, but Gisela proved to be most resistant to these efforts. 

As for Sundance, as much as he wanted to do so, he had no plans to sleep. 

Grandmother Growler hefted a long wooden case that was oddly shaped. Wide on one end, narrow on the other, Sundance found himself curious about what might be inside—and it seemed as though his curiousity was about to be rewarded. The old griffoness flicked a brass latch with her thumb-talon, opened the case, and then lifted out a banjo that surely had to be as old as she was. Yet, like her, it seemed to be in fine condition, all things considered. 

For the first time, he noticed the webbing found between Granny’s talons, and once spotted, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to have a better look. He couldn’t sort out her avian features; she did not have a duckbill. Rather, her beak was a bit long, somewhat narrow, and quite pointy. As for her feline parts, she was tawny and grey with age. She hugged the banjo close, ran her right talon-fingers along the long wooden part that extended from the round part—Sundance knew nothing about banjo anatomy—and then began to twang the strings with her left talon-thumb. 

“It’s not fair,” Turmeric sighed as he leaned up against Corduroy. “Griffons. Good at everything they do. Look, Corduroy. She’s a lefty and she’s about to play it upside-down.” 

Without delay or hesitation, Granny began to pluck at the strings. There was no warm up, or perhaps this was the warm up. It was fast, blisteringly so, and it was perfect. While she plucked a crazy-fast tune, the edge of her wing tapped against the hollow body of the banjo in perfect time, creating a fine drumbeat that gave the music life. A second later, there was more drumming; Bonk began to smack her paws against the flat floor, and she matched every beat. Little Bonk was now every bit as awake as Gisela, and Sundance could only imagine Hollyhock’s frustration, which he clearly saw upon her tired, sleepy face.

For some reason unknown to Sundance, with music came life. Perhaps this is what the barony was missing. Sure, there was music on the radio, sometimes, but that just wasn’t the same. It was scratchy, poppy, hissy, and difficult to hear. What came out of the speaker was tinny and hollow-sounding. But this—this was vibrant. It was the perfect way to end the day. As heads began to bob in time, Sundance wondered if perhaps he should go and find busking street musicians. Maybe some of them needed a home. 

But that… that would be done another day. 

For right now, Sundance was content to let the music play. 
> Assholes of history
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

How late was it? Unable to tell, Sundance lifted his head and was beset with immediate regret. A terrible crick in his neck crippled him, and while he tried to give it a good rub, he had himself a look around. His friends, all of them, were quite comatose. Some were hunched over the table, while others were sprawled upon the floor. Dark shadows lurked, waited at the very boundaries of the light, which seemed dim and weak somehow. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall falling asleep—but the last thing he remembered was… something about tax credits or incentives or some such thing. It was all so hazy. 

Then, as he strove to regain his senses, he heard the soft rustle of feathers not his own. Gooseflesh overcame him, along with a chilly sensation deep within his thoughts, a cold spike in his mind. He tried to rise from the table, but his body felt all wrong. Everything was slow, sluggish, and he had the odd sensation that he was wearing his own flesh, which somehow fit him poorly. What a curious, terrible sensation it was, disorienting and diminishing. 

Like a liquid pouring, the shadows came to life. They coalesced, swirled, and in doing so, gained a terrific solidity that turned Sundance’s blood into slush. All around him, the light lost strength as the darkness gained corporeal form. A tall, distorted, slender figure took form within the gathering dark, and then, just behind it, another figure gained reality at an alarming rate. It was hard to breathe now, such was Sundance’s terror. The odd detached sensation of his clenching sphincter formed a syncopated rhythm with his thudding heart. 

Glowing eyes formed within the voluminous hood of liquid shadows, eyes that defied colour and description. A fierce luminescence existed within the darkness come to life, and to look into the shadows that contained these eyes was to know tenebrous terror. Sundance was aware of his own heavy breathing, yet he could not feel his own hot breath. Unsettling emptiness moved in and out of him as his barrel heaved. 

“Forgive me,” a voice boomed, “but I come as the bearer of ill-tidings, Sundance.” 

“Am I dreaming?” he asked, barely able to wheeze out his own question. 

“Dreaming?” The tall figure made of darkness paused for a moment, as if to consider these words. Then, after a brief eternity of terrifying silence, it said, “This is no dream, Sundance, but the hour of your death. Look”—a phantom limb made of tenebrous darkness gestured in Sundance’s direction—“just over there. Behind you. See thine own end.” 

Biting his lip—which somehow felt off—Sundance resisted the urge to turn around. He fought against the sinister need to turn his head left, but he had to know. He had to know. Still chewing his bottom lip, his head began to turn, very much against his will, and he cursed himself for his own betrayal. At the head of the table, slouched over, he saw… himself. Yep, he sure did seem to be gone. Which might explain why nothing felt right. But if his body was over there, then what was he feeling all around him right now, and why did it feel so wrong? 

“I’m dead?” he asked, uncertain if he should believe this. 

“Verily, ‘twas boredom that was your undoing, along with all of your friends. Such lamentable fate thou hast bestowed upon those chosen as kin. One by one, they fell, but so engrossed in your task, you failed to notice. ‘Tis a dangerous foe, ennui.” 

“My mother did tell me that if I kept this up, I’d die of boredom. I didn’t believe her.” Unwanting, unwilling to believe his fate, Sundance stared at his own body and watched as his barrel did not rise and fall. Such stillness was unsettling, and he somehow shivered. 

When he could bear to look no longer, he returned his attention to the pair of shadowy figures, and then began to study them. Was he still a pegasus? Could he still observe? What might he see? Given his current state of being, or lack thereof, what fundamental aspects of himself persisted beyond his failure of existence? 

“So what happens now?” he asked of the two shadowy terrors. 

“You will die as you live,” the smaller of the two figures replied. “You will be sorted, all of the proper forms will be filled out, procedure will be followed,  and you will be filed away. Such is the fate of bureaucrats.” 

“Well then,” he said as he rapidly came to terms with his demise. “That doesn’t seem so bad. There are worse fates than being stashed away in a filing cabinet. What about my friends?” 

“They’ve gone on to the Fields of Green.” 

“And they’re having the time of their lives,” the second figure added. 

“That can’t be right,” Sundance said, “you can’t have the time of your life if you are dead. Right, then. What if I refuse to be sorted? I think I’d rather be with them. I demand access to the appeals process. I’m willing to file my own paperwork. I’ll not be forgotten in some drawer while my friends are off frolicking.” 

“You wish to file an appeal?” the taller of the two figures asked. “Even at the hour of your demise, you chose the path of pen and ink?” 

“Clearly, there was an error in the system. I demand that I be given the means to sort it out.” When he tried to peer beneath the hood of the taller figure, the clammy chill of death permeated his bones, and he was forced to look away. 

“You know, it occurs to me… that this should be scaring him,” the smaller of the two figures said. “Yet he seems quite defiant, just as I said he would be. You owe me lunch.” 

“Oh, bother and blast!” The taller figure cloaked in shadows snorted. “It seems the gig is up, Twilight. Do not gloat, it is unbecoming.” 

The shadows retreated, the tenebrous terror was peeled away as if it were an unwanted shroud, and Sundance watched as the two figures revealed themselves. The taller was Princess Luna, who at the moment, appeared to be quite put out and annoyed. As for the smaller, it was none other than an exceedingly smug Princess Twilight Sparkle, who was quite full of herself. 

As the darkness turned to light, everything seemed a little less real. 

“What’s this all about?” demanded Sundance. 

“Sane, rational beings should not be so comfortable with such inane endeavours,” Princess Luna replied as she tried to recover some of her regal splendour. 

Which was hard to do when one’s fellow princess made such silly faces. 

Annoyed, Princess Luna extended her wing, pushed her fellow alicorn away, and rolled her eyes in such a manner that only an immortal being could manage. Which is to say, they rolled completely around, like the moon leaving the horizon, only to rise again once more. Sundance found it quite disconcerting to see her eyes vanish upwards, and then rise from the bottom a second later. 

“We had to settle a bet—” 

“Shut it, Twilight.” Once more, Princess Luna did her utmost to shove the smaller alicorn away, but Twilight was immovable. “Sundance, your will is admirable. But the point of this paperwork is to discourage corporate cockroaches. Yet, you somehow seem emboldened.” 

“I believe in what I’m doing,” he said to explain himself. “Just as I did when I began my genealogy project. It is a task, nothing more.” 

“But a terrible task it is…” 

“It’s not so bad.” He shrugged. “Actually, it is nice having something to do. It gets a bit boring around here. Now I have paperwork to help me pass the time.” 

“Nephew, you are an unnatural creature.” Head held high, Princess Luna’s eyes narrowed. “But then again, I am endlessly fascinated by the inner-workings of the postal service, so whom am I to talk?” 

“Don’t you have more important things that you could be doing than pestering me?” Sundance asked in a bold, accusatory manner. 

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Nephew,” Princess Luna replied. “Right now, I am in millions of dreaming minds. I am but a mere sliver of myself, and so is Twilight. We’re just out doing the rounds. Say, Nephew, before we depart… is there anything that we can do for you before you go?” 

“Do for me?” 

Princess Luna’s wings fidgeted against her sides. “A pleasant dream perhaps… one that does not involve paperwork. An exciting dream where you are the hero during some crisis. Or perhaps a steamy wet dream to showcase your many hidden desires?” 

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Twilight muttered as she backed away. 

“I’m good, thanks.” As tempting as it might be to gain insight, Sundance prefered to probe his hidden desires on his own. 

“Prophetic visions, perhaps?” As the offer was made, Princess Luna’s eyes grew unfocused. “You have the sight for it, Sundance. Though what the visions mean are anypony’s guess. Seeing and understanding are two very different things. What many ponies believe to be surreal and confusing dreams are really just precognitive foresight. But the brain gets scrambled trying to process it.” 

“Tempting, but no. Honestly, I should try to wake up so I can get a bit more work done.” 

Lower lip protruding, Princess Luna pouted. 

“Come morning, have a pleasant day with your friends,” Twilight suggested. “Most of yesterday was lost to drudgery. While I am certain that your friends will stick with you, they may not share your endurance. Just saying. Do what you can to lift their spirits.” 

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind. That is, if I remember when I wake up.” 

“Good night, Nephew. Please, for your sake… do not develop an interest in chartered accountancy.” 

“Yes, good night, Sundance. Nightly class sessions will resume shortly.” 

“Say again?” he asked. 

But it was too late; the pair of princesses had already departed. 



 

Sundance awoke to the sensation of a sharp beak nibbling upon his tender ears. Opening just one eye, he saw only darkness, but knew that dawn would come soon. Groggy, his body heavy, he lifted himself up from the table and then looked down at the owl that gazed up at him with warm affection. She hopped and bounced around the table in something that was almost a circle, but didn’t disturb any of the documents. 

“Owlister,” he whispered as her thoughts were broadcasted into his own. 

He saw a great, blazing fire that rent the bejeweled fabric of night. 

“Yes, I know, Owlister. The sun will rise soon. I can feel it.” 

She let out a soft hoot, a remarkably considerate sound that did not disturb the sleepers. 

“I don’t know how, Owlister. I just do. Let’s go. We’ll leave them to their sleep.” 

Again, she hooted, trilled softly, and all this was punctuated with some beak snaps. 

“What do you mean, I should ask the old timers about the rabbits?” The jumbled images he saw in his mind were not at all clear and Sundance, still not fully awake, tried to make sense of owl-thoughts. Which were not at all like pony-thoughts, even if pegasus ponies were considered bird brains. 

“There’s too many rabbits to eat? We’re in danger? Alright, fine, I’ll ask the old timers about the rabbits. Give me a chance to wake up first. And the old timers as well. It’s like you want me to get an earful.” 

The young owl chattered as she hopped up and down, while her claws went clickety-clack against the table. 

“No, it’s not funny, you nutter. Hush… we have sleepers.” 



 

It was not a perfect summer morning; a steady drizzle and poofy white-grey clouds obscured the view to the east. As for the southern view, that was downright ominous. Clouds down that way were blacker, bleaker, and had the promise of thunder about them. Still, it was a nice morning, as it was a bit cooler than it had been, and that was a relief. Atop the ledge of rock above the waterfall, Sundance watched as the barony down below came to life. 

No signs of any spiders, and that was a relief. He’d already checked the outhouses and found them empty. Nothing lurked in the old kitchen cave, and a general inspection of likely hidey holes had revealed nothing. Yet, he still worried about the spider menace. Maybe they’d found food in other places. Perhaps they gathered their numbers and planned for some great invasion. 

But for this morning, it was quiet, save for the Greater Equestrian Screaming Owls, who greeted the dawn with their usual fanfare. Something was off with the owls; they were lethargic and some of them were quite plump. Owlister had said that there were too many rabbits to eat, and try as he might, Sundance could not make sense of this situation. But he trusted in his owls, and if they said something was wrong, then something was wrong. And if something was wrong, then something would be done—though he had no idea what that might be. 



 

“Earwig, a word with you if I may.” 

“Milord, yer talking all noble-like more and more.” 

Suffering distraction, Sundance wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Had he changed? If so, he hadn’t noticed. Realising that he was distracted, he gathered his thoughts and decided to ignore this ever-so-curious factoid—at least for now. If there was a crisis, or a crisis-soon-to-be, he had to get down to the bottom of whatever it was that was going on. He squared his shoulders, struck a noble pose, and then fought to keep a straight face because Owlister’s claws were prickly. 

“Owlister has brought to my attention that there is something wrong with the rabbits.” 

“Oh… that… I was going to bend yer ear about that, actually, if things got worse. But yes, Milord, there’s a bit of a problem a-brewin’ with the rabbits, Yergrace. We’ve noticed some troublesome signs.” 

“Troublesome signs?” Sundance’s ears pricked. “Owlister told me that there are too many rabbits to eat.” 

“Oh bother,” Earwig said as her features turned downcast. “That’s what I was afraid of.” 

“Explain, Earwax. I don’t know about this stuff. Please, teach me.” 

“Well, Sire… it’s a matter of nature. And weather. And why weather has to be controlled sometimes. And nature needs controlling too, I guess.” The old, greying mare sucked in a deep breath, and then flicked her tail to shake free the raindrops that glistened amongst its strands. “Been a lot of rain this year, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Was a rainy spring with lots of storms. We saw some flooding. Well, we’re up in the highlands, Milord, and if we saw floods, just think of the lowlands. 

“When the lowlands flood, a lot of critters make their way up to these here parts… rabbits especially. And we’ve been noticing a few more rabbits than usual. Floodgate thinks that the floods have sent the rabbits up this way, which they have, but he thinks that all the rabbits have caused the spiders to swarm more than usual, which is why spider season feels a bit worse than it usually does. 

“But the real danger, Milord, is if we’re overrun by rabbits. They’ll eat our crops… which the little blighters have already been doing, but I suppose it could get worse. And I think the owls already know it’ll get worse, because they can’t eat all the rabbits. Which means we’re probably going to get swarmed, and have our crops devoured. It’s happened before, Milord.” 

Sundance, who’d never considered cute fluffy bunnies a danger before, now wondered for the first time if he’d have to defend his lands from the least likely of threats. All of Earwax’s words made sense, and he wasn’t about to doubt her wisdom. Floodgate was a smarter pony than the others gave him credit for, and even if his ideas were a bit out there, he was seldom ever wrong. Like every other pony in the barony, he had his purpose here. 

“What happened last time we were overrun by bunnies?” asked Sundance. 

“Cucumber, Milord,” replied Earwig, “he went off, spent a few days in the wilderness, found the warren, and then set it ablaze. Then, afterwards, he set snares and traps, Milord. A clever one, that Cucumber.”

“And that fixed things?” 

“No, Milord. We still starved come winter, which was long. About a dozen or so died. They were old and not very strong workers. The Milord demanded that we stop feeding them so that the rest of us might survive to see the spring.” 

“Oh, I see.” As awful as it was, Sundance didn’t want to condemn the act, because he understood how it might have been necessary. It was something he hoped that he would never have to do, and surely, he would find some way to seek help before it came to that. Just thinking about it put him off his need for breakfast though. 

“Milord, you have wings. You might be able to find the warren… though something tells me that you wouldn’t know what to look for.” 

“I could look for the spiders visiting the All You Can Eat Bunny Buffet,” he replied. 

“Even if we bomb the warren, there will still be lots of bunnies around. Too many, from the looks of things. More than the owls can eat, anyhow.” 

“I’ll figure this out,” Sundance said to Earwig. “We have hunters now, and meat-eaters. The bounty of bunnies might be a blessing. But it is prudent to act now, it would seem. Before we are overrun.” 

“It is a bit of a problem, Milord. We were going to mention it if it got much worse. Bless those screaming owls.” 

“If we deal with the bunnies, that’ll probably have some effect on the spiders,” he said as he spoke his thoughts aloud. 

“Aye, everything is connected and all that, Milord.” 

“I have those javelins,” he muttered to himself. “Might be a good chance to learn how to throw. But I feel a bit squeamish about killing.” 

“You didn’t seem squeamish when you put that splitting maul into that owlbear’s skull, Milord.” 

“Earwig, that was an owlbear, and circumstances were different. These are bunnies—” 

“These are bunnies that have killed us in the past, Milord.” 

“Right, point taken. I’ll kill the little squeakers. It’s them or us.” 

“That’ll be added to yer list of accomplishments, Milord. Bunny-Slayer. You’ll be the most fierce lord in all of the land.” 

“I think I prefer the Owlbear Axe-Murderer.” 

“Not as magnificent as Bunny-Slayer, Milord.” 

When the old mare began to snicker, Sundance’s cheeks flushed with heat. 

“Right then… once breakfast is done, I plan to hold a meeting so we can discuss this crisis. I wonder how this will go down in the annals of history? The Great Rabbit Rebellion? The Sunfire Barony Bun-Bun Slaughter? We’ll have to find some means of glorifying this, or it will be absolutely ridiculous.” 

“I don’t know nothing about no assholes of history, Milord, but we’ll always sing yer praises.” 

“Why, thank you, Earwig. That was most kind of you to say.” 

“Think nothing of it, Milord…” 
> The nurse is worse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Right… so we find ourselves at war with the bunnies,” Sundance said to the gathered crowd. “It’s them or us. I’ll not allow this to become a problem. Those wiggly-nosed little pests won’t run willy-nilly through our gardens and get away with it. They’ll not cause a food shortage. Nopony is going to starve come winter. That’s not the way I run things and I think everypony knows that by now. If for some reason we fail to contain this threat, and our crops get devoured, I will buy the food we need to survive the winter. So there is no need to panic. But we need a means to fight the bun-buns.” 

“We have predators,” Hollyhock said as she gestured at the griffon cub beside her. 

Even though it was a potential solution, Sundance hesitated because he wasn’t sure how he felt about this suggestion. Gisela was a cub and he didn’t want to subject her to blood, guts, gore, and violence. Or Bonk or Runt for that matter. From the looks of things, Corduroy had some reservations about this as well, even though nothing had been said. As for the others, he saw a lot of hopeful faces, and it seemed as though most ponies didn’t share his hesitancy. Gisela had a role to fulfill and others expected her to do her part, no matter her tender age. 

“She’s at the right age to learn how to hunt,” Grandmother Growler said. 

“I can hunt.” The soft voice of the griffon cub cut through the susurrus murmur of the crowd and she held up her talons so that others might see them. “I can hunt and I can skin.” 

There was a visible shiver-shudder from Corduroy. 

“Bonk… Runt… do you want to help guard the gardens?” asked Hollyhock. 

“No hurt.” Shaking his head from side to side, Runt appeared quite distressed. 

“It’s fine, Runty. Nopony will be disappointed or upset with you. We don’t want you upset or uncomfortable.” Hollyhock slipped her foreleg around the pup, pulled him closer, and kissed him atop his head, right between his ears. “Bonk?” 

“I want to learn, I guess?” She flexed her paw-fingers and glanced over at Corduroy. “Don’t want to hurt stuff, but don’t want food gone.” 

Sundance could feel Corduroy’s conflict, so much so that it pained him. Such was her discomfort that he was certain that she might get up and step outside for a bit. It was yet another layer of complexity; she was fine with killing spiders, which didn’t seem to bother her at all, but something about this upset her. Maybe it was getting the little ones involved, or maybe it was killing bunnies, but she was unhappy about the situation. It was something that he would have to sort out somehow. 

“You’re very brave, Bonk,” Hollyhock said to the worried pup. 

“Corduroy, are you alright?” asked Turmeric. 

“Not really, no,” she was quick to say in response. “I wanted my ideals to survive the real world, and it seems they haven’t. Look, I’ll be fine. But I had high hopes that I’d be able to teach that killing wasn’t necessary. Even though sometimes it is.” 

Ears sagging, Sundance now had a glimmer of understanding as to Corduroy’s dilemma. It was a complex issue, no doubt. She seemed fine with killing spiders, but not bunnies. Or maybe she just didn’t want the little ones to engage in acts of violence. Maybe she was afraid of what the little ones might learn or discover about themselves, at least Bonk in particular. Sundance found himself filled with a new sense of worry; what if Bonk discovered that she liked killing bunnies? He found his thoughts quite alarming and unsettling. 

“We could set snares and traps,” Grandmother Growler suggested. 

“I dunno about that,” Sauerkraut Pie said to the elderly griffoness. “I wouldn’t want one of the tots to get a leg snared. We don’t want them hurt.” 

“Then we train them to be mindful and to stay away from the snares,” Grandmother Growler said in return. 

“I don’t like the idea of leaving traps in our own garden. Some of us can’t see so well.” Fretful, Sauerkraut Pie began to chew her bottom lip and she cast a fearful glance in Sundance’s direction. 

“For now, no traps or snares.” Sundance cleared his throat. “Though only for now. We’ll see how this plays out. For now, we’re not overrun just yet, so no need for drastic action. But if we see swarms of rabbits hopping through our greens, we’ll take sterner measures.” 

“I’m fine with that, Milord. Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it, Sauerkraut.” Squinting a bit, Sundance tried to read all the gathered faces so that he might have a better feel for the situation. Most were hard to read. Lots of wrinkles. But there was a lot of stern resolve, a little worry, and some fear. The fear bothered him because he didn’t want his subjects to live in fear of anything, be it their baron, their future, or rampaging bunnies out to cause starvation. 

“Would fences help?” asked Acorn. 

“Nope.” Rocky Ridge shook her head from side to side. “Rabbits burrow. They’d just go under.” 

“Who remembers when Redbrick stepped in a burrow-hole and broke his leg?” 

Almost everypony gathered reacted to Fallow Fields’ words, most with horror or revulsion. Sundance felt the emotion ripple around the room, it traveled almost as though it were a wave. Privy Pit began to sniffle a bit, and when the sniffles became tears, she turned her face away from onlookers. But she did not suffer alone, not for long. Lamp Black scooted closer to her, pressed himself up against her side, and then sat with her whilst he wore a sorrowful expression. 

“We have visitors,” Potato announced suddenly. 

“Do we?” asked Sundance. 

“We do,” was Potato’s reply. 

“But… you’re not even outside to see—” 

“Potato just knows these things. Visitors. One of them is almost dead.” 

“Really?” There was a pause as Sundance considered these words. “Corduroy, your services might be needed. I’m going up to the battlements over the gatehouse to see what I can see. Everypony else, go about your business for now. Don’t worry… we’ll find a way to sort this bunny business out. Town hall is dismissed!” 



 

Sure enough, there was a ship incoming. In the golden light of dawn from the east, the ship to the west stood out. It was already quite large—though it didn’t move with much speed. As he eyeballed the distant craft, Sundance began to calculate a few factors in his head. Moving at that speed, if the ship came from Canterlot, it had probably left when it was still dark, probably in the wee hours of morning. Who would depart for the Sunfire Barony at that hour, and why would one of them be almost dead? 

A perplexing mystery presented itself and distracted Sundance from the bunny menace. 

Perhaps it would be best to go and have a look for himself, Sundance decided. 



 

The airship was a small model, with a small, cramped deck and what had to be a tight cabin. No black smoke belched from the rear, so it had to burn something else. It had but a single airscrew mounted below the craft, which buzzed like a swarm of angry bees. Sundance approached with caution, and when he did, he saw a pony emerge up onto the deck from a hatch near the front of the ship. 

“Hennessy! What are you doing here?” 

He rushed forward so that he might land on the cramped deck. 

“Potato told me that somepony was dying. Do you need help?” 

“Dying?” For a few seconds, Hennessy seemed overwhelmed and confused. Then, after he recovered, he said, “Well, Flicker is sort of dying, I guess, but he’ll be fine, I think. Sundance, I had to get him out of Canterlot and I didn’t know where to go, so I came to you. He got stabbed. Several times. And he had so many quarrels sticking out of him that he looked like a porcupine. Plus there was poison. He’ll be fine, so long as he gets some rest and takes time to recover. Which is why I had to leave Canterlot. If we’d stayed, he’d try to go fight, because he’s an idiot.” 

“You say he’ll be fine?” As he folded his wings against his sides, Sundance shot Hennessy an incredulous look. 

“Oh, he’s had worse. He’s more of a danger to himself right now though. Needs to heal.” 

“He’s had worse?” 

In response, Hennessy nodded and said, “Much worse. Do you mind if we crash at your place for a while?” 

“Not at all,” Sundance replied. “Things are exciting right now. There are giant shitter spiders and the barony is about to be overrun by rabbits.” 

“Flicker hates rabbits,” Hennessy said matter-of-factly. “Keeping him in the bed will be difficult.” 

“Corduroy will make him behave. I think.” 

“We’ll see about that.” Hennessey squinted in the direction of the barony, sighed, and shook his head. “I’m exhausted. Was a long night. And was a longer day before that. Been a while since I slept.” 

“Well get you sorted out, Hennessy. Try not to worry. And Flicker too. Corduroy is an excellent nurse. Turmeric is here and he’ll be glad to see you.” 

“I could use his cheerfulness… life hasn’t been kind as of late…” 



 

“Flicker… you don’t look at all fabulous.” 

“Good to see you too, Turmeric.” 

Almost mummified in bandages, Flicker struggled to stand. When his legs wobbled a bit too much, Corduroy lifted him, flipped him over, and then held him in her arms as if he were a rather fussy, exceedingly cranky baby. Oh how he glared up at the diamond dog nurse, and oh how Corduroy was utterly immune to Flicker’s death glare. Sundance might have found it amusing, if he wasn’t so worried about everything. 

“What happened?” asked Turmeric. 

“They came at us by the thousands,” Hennessy replied. “Organised. Disciplined. They made a coordinated assault on Princess Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns. Well, that was a small force that attacked, and so we dispatched a small contingent. But they were overrun, and we arrived as reinforcements, and that’s when the army arrived. They had plans to overwhelm us.” 

“Where is Piper? Is she alright?” 

“She’s fine, Turmeric. Well, she’s upright and mobile. She’s in Canterlot, doing sweeps.” 

“I don’t like how bold they’re getting, Henny.” 

“Me neither, Turmeric.” 

“The school is so well-protected”—Turmeric shook his head in disbelief—“I don’t understand how they could manage to attack such a fortified place.” 

“We don’t know either.” Flicker, nestled as he was in Corduroy’s arms, let out a pained grunt. “They’re getting better at magic. Soon, nothing will be safe.” 

“Corduroy, please, carry our guest to the infirmary,” Sundance said to his nurse. “The sooner we get him into a bed, the sooner I’ll be able to relax.” 

“You’d better not give me any trouble,” Corduroy said to the pony she cradled like a babe in her arms. “I’m in charge, got it?” 

Eyes narrowed, Flicker replied, “We’ll see about that…” 



 

“So, you are overrun by rabbits, or soon will be,” Flicker said as Corduroy carefully dropped his head upon a pillow. The bandage-wrapped unicorn shifted in the bed, made himself comfortable, and then focused his steely gaze upon Corduroy, who stood beside him. “Wretched vermin, rabbits. Carry disease. Contemptible, disgusting creatures. To think that I thought them cute when I was young.” 

“Do you have a plan that might help us, Flicker?” asked Sundance. 

“You know, in your condition, you really should be in a hospital,” Corduroy said, almost muttering. “You belong in intensive care.” 

In response to the nurse’s well-meaning assertions, Flicker growled. 

Much to Sundance’s shock and surprise, Corduroy growled in return, and goodness, what a growl it was. Deep, throaty, resonate—the sound was absolutely terrifying, the stuff of nightmares. As Sundance’s testicles retracted suddenly from fear, he watched as Flicker’s ears pinned back into a submissive position and he heard a gasp from both Hennessy and Turmeric. 

“You growl like a constipated pooping puppy,” Corduroy remarked. “I’ve heard more impressive growls come from Sundance’s stomach.” She reached down and pressed her paw-finger onto Flicker’s nose. “Too bad you’re not cute enough to be a puppy. Your face is the sort of ugly that could stop a clock.” 

“Oh… gelded,” Turmeric whispered to Hennessy, whose mouth was open in shock. 

A low throaty chuckle was heard from Flicker, who shook with faint laughter. Corduroy pulled her paw-finger away from his nose, patted him on the head, fluffed his pillow a bit, and then sat down in a wooden chair beside his bed. Hennessy needed a moment to recover, and being the good friend that he was, Turmeric gently closed Hennessy’s mouth. Sundance waited—his thoughts remained on the rabbits—and the raspy chuckles that came from Flicker finally subsided into a few pained grunts. 

Flicker’s eyes closed as he said, “I like your nurse, Sundance. She has spirit. And growls like Cerberus.” Again, he shifted his body, rolled somewhat onto one side at an angle, without actually lying on his side, and then winced from pain. “Henny, I stashed a spare face—” 

“You did what, you son of a bitch?” Thoroughly incensed, Hennessy hissed like a teakettle and cast his furious stare upon Flicker, who seemed oblivious to the glared daggers. 

“Corduroy, please, check his hearing. I think the explosions might have made him deaf.” He struggled to inhale a deep breath and then Flicker opened his eyes. “I stashed a spare face in the airship while you packed a few things. It’s a good thing that I did, too. Never can tell when one is needed.” 

“You asshole! I am so sick of your casual disregard for everything including yourself! I am fed up!” 

“Henny, pay attention… you need to help Sundance deal with the rabbits. Much is at stake. Do not ignore this threat. Remember, Princess Celestia’s arch-nemesis is the common rat. The littlest and seemingly harmless threats are those most easily ignored, but are also the most dangerous. Now, I need to get me some shuteye, so if you could stop shouting so that I could get some sleep, that’d be nice.” 

Fuming, his tail swishing, Hennessy chewed his lip out of frustration. 

Hoping to prevent a lover’s quarrel, Sundance asked, “How will this help?” 

“I’ll be able to see into the ground,” replied Hennessy. “There’s no other supplies though. No bombs. No gas. No ground shattering incendiary devices. I don’t even know where to begin looking for rabbits, and I am not familiar with this area.” 

“You’ll find a way, Henny,” Flicker said as he closed his eyes once more. “That’s what you do. I bring the determination, Piper brings the magic, and you bring the plan. Go do your thing, Henny. That thing you do.” 

“Do you have any stilts?” asked Hennessy. “Or can we craft some? It will allow me to cover ground quickly.” 

“I have a better idea,” replied Sundance. “How about we fly…” 
> The birth of the Bunny Bombardiers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hennessy seemed distracted, out of sorts, and more than a little tired. Concerned, Sundance worried for his friend, and wondered if maybe Hennessy should get a little sleep, but the resolute earth pony had refused several times now. Standing a yard or so away, Sundance watched as his friend kept looking westwards towards the city of Canterlot. Everything felt wrong somehow; Canterlot was besieged by rats and there was very real danger, while the barony had to contend with bunnies. The contrast was strong, poignant, and yet Sundance understood that while the severity of the threat was different, it was still a threat. If he failed to deal with it, there would be far-reaching consequences. 

So, he had to act. 

“One day, Sundance… you will fall in love. And the very thing that attracts you to that pony might also be a source of great frustration and consternation in your relationship.” With a gentle shake of his head, Hennessy closed his eyes for but a moment—but longer than a mere blink—and when they opened once more he somehow seemed far more fatigued. “She ordered him to retreat. He was told to fall back and regroup in the auditorium. She made her orders so very clear, and this time of all times, he disobeyed her. I saw the heartbreak in her eyes… the pain. As we pulled back, he held the hall. She tried to command him to fall back… she screamed at him… I’d not heard her scream like that in quite some time… but he shut the doors and fused them together. He melted the metal until it was just a lump and I thought that would be the last time I saw him. I thought it would be the last time I saw him and I was so angry at him… yet I cannot help but feel that he did the right thing. But he broke her heart to do so.” 

Feeling a bit stupid, Sundance had no choice but to ask, “Who?” 

“Why, Princess Celestia of course.” Then, the tired earth pony added, “Sorry if I failed to make that clear. I’m not all here right now.” 

“It’s fine, Hennessy. I should’ve guessed.” 

“When all of this is over and everything is sorted out and everything is calm once more, she is going to give him a dressing down that is going to go into the history books. And I am not prepared to deal with the emotional consequences of that. But I have to, because I have no choice. Because I’m with Flicker, which means I have to deal with the consequences of his lifestyle. That’s what it means to be in love, Sundance. To be committed. And sometimes, no matter how much you might be in love, or how committed you might be… sometimes you get sick of somepony else’s shit.” 

At a loss for words, Sundance didn’t know what to say, so he did not respond beyond a faint nod of his head. 

“And then there’s Piper… she treads a dark path, Sundance. She uses emotion to fuel her magic. And while I don’t believe that is inherently wrong, I don’t think that Piper has the right temperament to sustain herself. More and more, she thrives on rage and anger. I fear for what she might become and what all of this endless fighting is doing to her. She’s grown so strong… so skilled… but at what cost? I worry that she’ll become like Balister, a pony kept alive solely by his own hatred. Whatever was once good in Balister has been replaced by cold, unfeeling metal. He lives for the fight. He lives to fight. And then there’s me… and sometimes I question my place in all of this.” 

“It is dangerous to mix emotion and magic,” Paradox said as she approached. “Some great wizards manage it. Vinyl Scratch is known for her command and her mastery of such magic. So is Dim. But to do this means having mastery over both magic and your emotions… which many ponies do not have. To master both requires a great effort. Which is why this practice is frowned upon. For many, it means a bad end.” 

“Which is what I fear for Piper,” said Hennessy. 

“You wanted to see me, Sundance?” asked Paradox. 

“I did, Paradox. We have a job to do.” 

“More paperwork?” 

“Not today.” Sundance took a much-needed moment to collect his thoughts. “We’re going to go bunny bombing. The three of us. I plan to pull my sky truck, and I want both of you back there. Hennessy, you’ll be able to see the rabbits underground. I’m not even going to ask how that works. As for you, Paradox, I need for you to make things explode.” 

“I’m a tower wizard—” 

“You live in a tree that lays on its side.” 

With her piercing gaze focused on Sundance, Paradox cleared her throat. “I am a tower wizard but I think I can handle this. You want me to rain down fiery death and destruction from above.” 

“Not really, no,” he replied. “Then we’d have to worry about a forest fire and that’s a problem I’m not prepared to deal with.” 

“I can create terrific implosive blasts. A quick flash that creates a vacuum, and then everything in a wide area is sucked in and crushed. There’ll be some burning, but the implosion should knock the fire out. I’ve never done it while flying about so I don’t know how good I’ll be in a distracted state. Like I said, I am a tower wizard. If I get distracted, things could go wrong.” 

“This highlights my state of thought as an earth pony. The first thing I thought of to cover ground quickly was stilts. Sundance is right”—here, Hennessy paused for a moment—“flight will give us an advantage.” 

“But how do we start?” asked Sundance. “I mean, there’s a lot of ground to cover. I don’t even know how to begin.” 

“We start here, and we circle the barony,” Hennessy replied. “And then we spiral outwards in ever-expanding circles. We’ll look for high places, sheltered places. Though, rabbits aren’t always smart enough to find the perfect place for a warren. They do get flooded. But sometimes luck is on their side. We’re looking for a successful warren, so we need to find a place that is secure and sheltered. I think we’ll know it when we see it.” 

“I think you’ll know it when you see it,” Sundance said to Hennessy. “Which is why you’ll be our spotter. Which means you’re in charge of directions.” 

The tall, slender earth pony nodded. “Right.” 

“And you, Paradox. You’re my court wizard and well-known explosioneer. I need you to show me what that means. Today, I want to see stuff explode. But I don’t want to see us explode. Got that?” 

“I think I can manage,” Paradox said with a wry smile. 

“I don’t want my barony burnt to the ground, either.” 

“That’s the tricky part.” The smile spread across Paradox’s face vanished. “I’ll do my best, but explosioneering is controlled chaos.” 

“Well, I am not going to tell you how to do your job,” said Sundance. “But I am going to trust you to do it. I fly… rather good at it, I’d like to think. And I do paperwork. So I am going to do what I do well, flying in this instance, and trust that you two will do what you do well. While I don’t have a fancy military-issue chariot, I do have the sky truck. Together, we’ll improvise.” 

“If Flicker knew what we were about to do, we’d never be able to keep him in the bed,” Hennessy remarked. “I mean, we work underground, mostly. We are the Underwatch. But to rain down death and destruction from above… Flicky would be beside himself. He’d be like a foal during Hearth’s Warming.” 

“Flicker is laid up,” Sundance said to Hennessy. “Today is your day to stand in the sun.” 



 

“We are good to go,” Paradox said to Sundance as he performed his own pre-flight check on his harness. “I cast a spell on our hooves so we don’t fall out. Hennessy has his scary mask and I packed a picnic basket full of snacks and high energy foods. We’re ready to begin our bombing run.” 

Squinting, Sundance eyed the distant end of the runway, and the wildflowers that grew beyond. The wind came up from the south, which meant that he had to deal with a side draft on his left as he took off westward. He used his wings to adjust his flight goggles, then did a bit of last-minute stretching. Several ponies stood about and watched the preparation for take-off with eager, expressive faces. 

“Wait!” Hollyhock shouted. “Wait, don’t go yet!” 

Almost breathless, the mare trotted up to the sky truck trailed by her brood. Her eyes? Bright and excited. Her barrel? Almost heaving. There was a look of fierce maternal pride on her face as all the little ones crowded around her, and Sundance noticed that Bonk appeared to be carrying a folded up green woollen blanket. 

“Granny said that you couldn’t go to war without a standard—a flag! So we took an old ratty-tattered blanket and we made you one. It was a bit of a rush job, but I think it works. A bit of paint and love goes a long way. Bonk, show’em!” 

On command, the pup gripped a wooden dowel protruding from the blanket, gave it a shake, and unfurled the makeshift flag. The green woollen blanket was now a pirate flag—at least it looked that way. A crude buck-toothed rabbit’s skull done in white paint dominated the middle, and beneath the skull were two crossed carrots. It was grotesque, and utterly amazing. It was also only painted on one side, but that was fine. 

Paradox took the flag, held it aloft, had herself a better look at it, and then prepared to mount it. The sky truck had a place for such a thing, holes near the tailgate, and the dowel slid right in. She had to fiddle with a few knobs to secure it and to lock it in place, but the flag made for a fine addition to the sky truck. It added a much-needed air of legitimacy to this whole venture, and the situation was almost not-ridiculous. 

“Good luck!” Bonk shouted. 

“Yes, good luck!” Amber Dawn repeated. 

“Should a bunny skull have ears?” asked Lemongrass. 

“Don’t be a dork,” his sister said to him. 

“Au revoir!”

Unable to stop himself from smiling, Sundance prepared himself for takeoff and said, “Thanks… all of you. You behave for Hollyhock while I’m gone. Now stand back, daylight is a-burnin’!” 



 

Warm wind kissed Sundance all over as he slipped through contrasting currents. Neither Hennessy nor Paradox were particularly heavy, so there was hardly any load. His wings sliced through the wind and his well-timed strokes carried him high above the barony in no time at all. After a brief ascent, he leveled out and then began to circle what he’d taken to calling ‘Sunfire Castle’. Which really wasn’t much of a castle at all, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The box canyon, now closed off with the gatehouse, did provide a rather secure location, though the plateau where the waterfall was posed a significant risk. 

At some point, Sundance planned to do something about it, though he had no idea what. 

“Any higher than this and my visibility will be reduced,” Hennessy hollered over the wind. “A little lower might be better. Our masks were designed to work in close, confined spaces. I think the detection range is limited.” 

“But you can see?” asked Sundance, who shouted to be heard. 

“Everything,” Hennessy replied. “Begin your spiral. I’m not sure how to go about this, but we want overlapping circles so we can see the same areas from different angles. Ideal warren locations will be above water, so look for hills with thickets. I think we can safely ignore the areas that are marshy.” 

“I’ll widen my circle,” Sundance said to Hennessy. 

“I can see my house from up here!” Paradox shouted. “I’ve never wizarded like this before!” 

“Slow down a bit, Sundance… I need time to be able to study the ground. My field of vision is rather narrow in the mask. The lenses point forwards and concentrate vision in a focused spot.” 

“Gotcha. I can slow down a bit.” 

Down below, the river that fed the waterfall was broader than it was during the spring, and some of the marsh had flooded. The clear, blue waters that overflowed at the bends and banks became murky and sludgy as it overran into the marshy expanses. For the first time, Sundance noticed the earthworks around the river as it ran through the meadow; an effort had been made to keep the water clean and pure. How long ago had the river been shaped? A raised meadow of grass surrounded both sides. How many ponies had worked together to manage such a project? 

The ancient bones of the barony astounded him. 

From up here, he saw the boulders, the somewhat smaller stones, and even what appeared to be markers, or maybe cairns. There were broad, flat places that couldn’t possibly be natural. Old foundations perhaps, places where structures once stood. A flowing river would allow for water wheels and if Sundance squinted just right, he could almost see how the river was shaped to adjust water flow. 

Perhaps Grandmother Growler and Hoppy could build their brewery up here. 

As he slowly came around, flying in a clockwise circle, he began to approach the orchard ravine. It would come into view soon enough, and might even be a place to have a good look, though the ravine was prone to flooding. Below him, the Crags could be seen, the downright vicious bit of land that looked like a mess of teeth. The Crags were once the home of Grandmother Oak and the rich, black topsoil found in the crevices between the stones got washed into the ravine where the orchard was located. There were many crags, but these crags were the craggiest. 

“There’s too many right angles on those stones to be natural!” Paradox shouted so that she might be heard over the wind. “Just look at them! Some are broken and jagged, but look at the whole ones! The sheer size of them! That stone there has to be three meters long and a meter wide and tall! That’s a stone block!” 

Indeed it was, but it was so immense that Sundance failed to see it for what it was until Paradox had pointed it out. What appeared to be boulders at first glance were actually the remains of shattered masonry. He swooped down, low and slow, and had himself a better look—but not too much of a look because he didn’t want to crash into something. A wise pegasus kept an eye on their flightpath. 

“There’s something big and rusty,” Paradox said. “Some kind of machinery.” 

“That’s a tank! An actual tank!” The astonishment could still be heard in Hennessy’s mechanical voice that reverberated out of the mask. “It’s crushed beneath the stone block. Look, you can still see the barrel, even though it’s all bent. And that over there, poking out from beneath the rock, there’s more of it.” 

“What’s a tank doing up here with all this shattered rock?” asked Sundance. 

When he was done hunting bunnies, he would have to have himself a better look at this area. For a multitude of reasons, he was still largely unfamiliar with his own lands. There was just so much of them. Hundreds of miles of land, all of it stretching in all directions. Trying to survey all of this was a daunting task—so he just hadn’t. He’d found other ways to spend his time. 

“There’s really no way to get a tank up here,” Paradox remarked. “I mean, it’s all sheer cliffs surrounding the plateau, except for the mountains over that way. This is a secure, elevated area.” 

It was a mystery, Sundance realised. 
> Multiple incoming bogeys
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“School never prepared me for this!” Sundance heard Paradox shout from behind him as he banked to follow the general direction of the ravine. The orchard was below and what a difference could be seen since the Big Cleanup. More work needed to be done, but more work would always need to be done. The river that flowed through the ravine had narrowed a bit, but the water was still fast-flowing. 

“I feel wizardy, oh so wizardy! I feel wizardy and witty and—” 

“Gay?” Hennessy sang out. 

“No, and there goes the spontaneous musical outburst.” 

“Oh, drats. I thought we had something.” Then, a moment later, Hennessy added, “Sundance, veer over into yonder meadow. The one above the ridge on the far side of this ravine. It’s a good place to have a looky-loo.” 

Sundance did a hard bank left, leveled out, veered a little to the right, and then aligned his flight path so that he might fly along the length of the meadow. To his left, which was eastward, there were hills of the gently rolling variety, and beyond the hills were mountains that looked like jagged teeth. Southward, there was a long, narrow shelf of land that formed a sloped meadow, a place he’d seen but had never fully explored. It ran alongside the ravine for as far as the eye could see, narrow in some places, and broad in others. Heaps of rock could be seen that suspiciously seemed to be rubble, ruined houses perhaps, or possibly cairns. 

“There! Over there! There’s a rise with an old dead tree! The roots are hot! Bring us in for a closer look!” 

“We’ve found our bunny horde already?” asked Sundance. 

“No,” Hennessy replied, “but we found a warren. It’s not big enough to be the cause of the problem, but we’re still going to take it out. For practice!” 

Practically speaking, that seemed wise. Any and all rabbits contributed to the overall problem. But it also made Sundance a little sad, because the home of some cute, cuddly critters was about to be obliterated—for practice. He angled his wings, banked, adjusted his speed, and then began to circle the old rotten tree that looked a bit like a griffon’s claw reaching up out of the earth. The old gnarly roots could be seen, and hidden amongst those roots were holes, wee little bunny burrows. 

“I’ve never cast complicated magic under these sorts of conditions before,” Paradox said. 

To which Hennessy responded, “Should we be worried?” 

“Yeah, probably!” 

Sundance continued to circle, because he could do little else. Unable to see what Paradox was doing, he had no choice but to wait and be patient. If something exploded, if things turned exciting, he would need to be ready to make good his escape. Perhaps her spell took a while to cast, because nothing seemed to be happening. Maybe she had performance anxiety. Perhaps she might suffer premature detonation or arcanile horn dysfunction. There was no all-wise Princess Celestia around, so it would be up to him to sort her out if something happened. 

He hoped that he was up to the task. 

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Paradox said. “All this moving about. I’m used to casting while standing still. How do alicorns do it while they’re flying?” Then, after a few seconds… “Oh no, that sounds so perverse! Stupid brain! Now I’m distracted!”  

Distracted? So was Sundance, who’d only heard vague stories about mid-flight docking maneuvers, and largely considered such things to be impossible. Urban legends. Fanciful stories that had no basis in reality. Still, the stories were quite intriguing, but to see if they had any grain of truth to them, he would have to find himself an adventurous sexual-daredevil pegasus that was open to crashing—in all of its various forms. 

“Uh, oops. We should fly away now!” 

Looking down below him, Sundance saw a glowing nexus of faintly blue light. The orb shifted, blueified, and began to throb with surreal intensity. Something swirled within the sphere of what was now electric blue light, and all of his pegasus-senses tingled. What was going on down there? How much time did he have? Just what exactly had Paradox done, and would they survive it? 

“I don’t understand what creates the flashes of blue radiation,” Paradox said, almost shouting. “Princess Celestia doesn’t either. The electrons are all wrong. Too excited. Fly, Sundance! Fly! Hurry! I’ve accidentally created more Paradox radiation!” 

Hennessy could be heard saying, “It’s rather pretty…” 

Wings pumping with furious intensity, Sundance carved into the aether and brought himself up to speed, which was no easy feat with a load. His wings had the most alarming tingle and it almost felt as though they were hot. He continued with his rapid acceleration, driven onward by Paradox’s worried whimpers. She was scared, from the sounds of it, which rather left him somewhat frightened. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold it!” Paradox shouted. “Everything is going critical! I’ll do my best to shield us but things are about to get interesting! Go faster, Sundance!” 

“We’re going to die—” 

“That’s a possibility, Hennessy!” Paradox shouted. 

“That is not how you reassure a pony, Paradox!” 

“I am socially inept! Why do you think I’m here?” 

Then, Sundance heard Hennessy’s tone of voice change: “You can do this, Paradox. I believe in you. No matter how this turns out, I’ll still believe in you. Good luck!” 

“Oh! That’s incredibly sweet! Thank you!” 

With each furious beat of his wings, Sundance covered an extraordinary stretch of ground. He flew like a pegasus possessed and took no time to have a look backwards. It was up to Hennessy to reassure Paradox, who apparently needed some reassurance. As for Sundance, it was his job to fly as fast as the wind blew, so he did. The peculiar sensation in his wings grew stronger, gained intensity, and he could not help but wonder if he was scared stupid right now. 

“I wish you could see this,” Hennessy hollered so that he might be heard over the now-rushing wind caused by Sundance’s acceleration. “My mask allows me to see in multiple wavelengths of light. It’s beautiful—oh no, there it goes!” 

A peculiar sensation washed over Sundance, a physical force accompanied by an indescribable sound. Like somepony hitting a drum—only the drum was huge and somehow located inside one’s head. He felt something wash over him from behind and it was like being engulfed in a warm wind. Wings wide, he had to adjust for turbulence so that he could keep himself leveled out. It was all over in seconds, but it felt much, much longer. 

“Slow down, Sundance! Circle back around!” 

“Is it safe, Henny?” 

“I believe so, yes!” 

“It just vanished,” Paradox said. “Everything just vanished.” 

Trusting in his friends, Sundance reduced his speed and began to bank so that he might turn about. The air slipped over his outstretched, widespread primaries, which raked at the aether like claws. As he came about, he tried to reorient himself by putting the tree in the center of his vision, but there was no tree to be seen. Nor was there a gentle hill, a soft rolling slope. Most of it was just… gone. As confusion and bewilderment began to cloud his mind, Sundance tried to make sense of whatever had just happened. 

“Whoops… I tried to make it go away, and it went away.” 

“Success!” 

“No, Hennessy, I’m worried. I don’t understand what I did. I had my containment field, and I tried to compress the hydrogen into a crystalline form. But I think I made it a liquid, and then I could feel that the electrons were too excited and moving all wrong and I don’t know what happened.” 

“I think I know what happened,” Hennessy said. 

“You do?” 

“I think the bunnies are gone. There’s no longer a hot-zone.” 

“Most of the hill is gone—” 

“But so are the bun-buns! Success! Victory!” 



 

A victory—even an accidental, unintended one—felt mighty good. A patch of charred black earth was acceptable, as was the loss of a dead tree and a bit of topsoil. Of course, it was a bit worrisome that those things were gone, but there could be no doubt that they were acceptable losses. Sundance thought about this as they flew in a wide circle around the barony in search of more bun-buns. 

Of course, as was the way of circles, they came back to where they once were. The southern region was open, sloped plains, as was the west. North was the elevated plateau that formed the backbone of the box canyon. North and east were the Crags  and south of the Crags was the orchard ravine. After a completed circuit, Sundance had the lay of the land. 

“Head southeast,” Hennessy commanded. “Beyond the orchard, beyond the meadow, and into those foothills. The wooded ones. That seems like a great place to have a better look.” 

Squinting ahead, Sundance could see the distant copses of trees to the south and east. It seemed a bit too far away from the barony, but he trusted Hennessy’s judgment. Maybe rabbits could travel long distances. Or maybe the real menace of the bunnies just hadn’t reached them yet—afterall, they weren’t overrun, not yet. That was the outcome they were trying to prevent. 



 

It almost appeared as though the trees were covered in snow. No, not snow Sundance realised. Not snow at all. Webbing. His blood ran cold and his heart skipped a beat or two. Where there were webs, there were bound to be spiders. Big hairy gross spiders, the kind that hide in the shitter. As he flew closer and the webs grew more visible, he tried to calculate just how far they were from the barony, and concluded that it was an acceptable distance for a spider to walk. It was like a trip to the grocery store, only the freezer displays were replaced with outhouses. 

“I can see inside the wads of webbing,” Hennessy announced in a voice more than loud enough to be heard clearly. “There are creatures in there… some of which are still alive. And a whole lot of bunnies.” 

“So there has to be a warren close by,” Paradox said in response. 

“There are spiders in those trees the size of buckboard wagons.” 

“Hennessy, I didn’t need to know that.” 

“Sorry, Paradox. That’s just the way it is.” Then, one inhaled breath later, “Sundance, we have to eradicate the spiders. They’re too close to the barony. There’s an army here… maybe thousands. You’ll be overrun.” 

As much as he didn’t want to, Sundance thought of River Raider, and how chewed up she was. The spiders had invaded her cave and with sheer numbers, had almost subdued her. Hennessy was right. This spider colony was too close, and their numbers continued to grow with the surplus of rabbits available for them to eat. This copse of woods might very well have to be sacrificed—and Sundance decided it was an acceptable loss. 

“Hang on,” he said to his friends. “We’re beginning our bombing run. Paradox, destroy the woods if you have to. I want those spiders gone. Turn those trees to splinters if you must, we can’t have those spiders threatening the barony.” 

“I’ll do my best, Sundance…” 



 

They came in hard and fast, though perhaps Sundance should have gone low and slow. The plan, such as it was, was to do a flyover, come around, and make repeated passes. Paradox would rain down fireballs, which would no doubt set the woods on fire. But flames could be quenched in a number of ways, and they would sort that out later. For right now, there was a spider-hive to destroy, and maybe, if they were lucky, a spider queen. Hennessy’s mask gave him vision into the dense copse of trees, and of the ginormous spiders hidden within the grove, one certainly might very well be a queen. 

Hennessy let out a shout of alarm and cried, “We have incoming!” 

Wads of white webbing were coming right at them and Sundance took evasive action. They weren’t close by any stretch of the imagination, but it seemed as though the spiders had incredible range. Long strands and wads of webbing filled the sky in front of him and Sundance was forced to drastic measures to avoid them. His passengers cried out, but Paradox's spell to keep them secure held out. When Sundance rolled and banked upside-down, there was a rather feminine shriek of terror, which could have been either Hennessy or Paradox—Sundance could not tell. 

He spun, he whirled, uprighted himself, leveled out, and began to climb, all while the crackle of magic filled his ears. Paradox was shooting web-wads that came close enough to be a danger, while Hennessy shouted out warnings about multiple incoming bogeys. This was exciting and unexpected; the spiders had anti-air defenses. For Sundance, this was as thrilling as it was terrifying. He might very well die doing this, but what a way to go. 

The sky was filled with sticky silken strands. 

“Spiders incoming!” Hennessy cried out. 

Almost panicked, Sundance whipped his head about, trying to spot the danger, and saw several spiders rising up to meet them. Spiders flew? Who knew? Some of the long strands of webbing that filled the sky had spiders on one end, spiders that were now dangerously close. Sundance continued to climb and realised that if Paradox was on the defensive, she wasn’t on the offensive, and this, this was a problem. 

An incoming spider waved with one hairy leg as it drew nearer. 

“Flicker is deathly afraid of spiders,” Hennessy shouted matter-of-factly. “Of course, he’s battled and killed three beldams. Spider hags. If he were here right now, he’d be freaking out!” 

“I’m freaking out!” Paradox shrieked. “Spiders! Spiders everywhere! Why must spiders fly‽” 

A massive bloom of flame consumed the sky to Sundance’s left, and with it, several balloonist spiders. Heat and turbulence washed over Sundance, who had to make hasty adjustments for fear that his wings might ignite. Mere moments later, as he was still recovering, there was another burst of flame and heat as Paradox let go a second fireball. It was just supposed to be a bunny bombing run, but now they were battling for their very lives. A sticky blob of webbing flew too close to Sundance for comfort because he almost flew right into it when he swerved to avoid the fireball. If his wings got webbed, it was over. They would go down, or so he feared. 

“Tip us over,” Paradox shouted, her voice ragged. “I need a better view of everything down below!” 

In response, Sundance gave her exactly what she wanted. His body violently twisted in his harness in response to his sudden action, and he felt a painful wrench in his spine. Somehow, he leveled himself out as he and his sky truck resisted the harsh pull of gravity. Down below him, he saw that the trees were swarming with spiders of all sizes, from itsy-bitsy spiders that liked to crawl up water spouts, to big hairy behemoths. 

A teeny, tiny, almost insignificant pea-sized blob of fire shot from Paradox’s horn. 

It traveled down like a raindrop, a flickering flame no larger than what might have been found on a candle. Ignited bits of webbing and smouldering chunks of burning spider rained down around them. Time seemed to slow in some odd way. Sundance’s wings seemed to be flapping too fast and too slow at the same time as he struggled to right himself before they fell out of the sky. Momentum would only keep them aloft for so long. The tiny flickering flame streaked towards the spider-infested trees down below. 

Perhaps it was panic that gave Paradox strength… 

The tiny flame blossomed into a ravenous red-orange rose. Sundance saw it as he righted himself. Heat and furious sound engulfed him, and he heard a roaring from within his ears as the explosive boom gave him a forceful shove. His wings felt as though they might be torn from his sockets as a wall of concussive force slapped him silly. Wings spread wide, he cupped them, angled them just so, and tried to ride the ever-expanding shockwave that rattled his teeth inside his gums. The acceleration was instant and far too powerful. Perhaps riding the shockwave was a bad idea, but he was committed to this course of action. 

His eyes were sucked back into his head and he was certain that he felt them pressing against his brain. A column of fire rose up into the sky and then unfurled like a scroll. An endless wave of force seemed to flow from the explosion and Sundance blinked with dull confusion as a burning tree went rocketing past him, tumbling end over end. More trees filled the skies around him, and he struggled to keep his wings cupped so that he might continue to ride the shockwave. It was his only chance to survive, he knew that, as there was no way that he could outfly this. 

If he lived through this, he would have a story to tell… 
> Mistakes were made
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A great and terrible sunburn covered Sundance from hoof to ear. At least, that is what it felt like. His skin was too tight, tender, and movement of any sort was painful enough to be annoying. Deep within his wingsockets there was a dreadful ache, and what he wanted right now was to be dunked in some cool water. Black soot covered most of his body and as he flew, he left a trail of gritty filth flowing behind him. 

His passengers fared no better. 

“I panicked, I’m so sorry! I got scared and I—” 

“Paradox”—Hennessy’s mechanical voice was grating—“it’s fine. Everything is fine. Right now, I need for you to focus. You have to pull yourself together. There’s a fire to put out and we still have some spiders to deal with. Can you do this?” 

“I don’t know,” Paradox whined in response. “Right now, I’m still panicked. And scared. And I can’t think clearly. What if I mess up again? What if I blow us to smithereens?” 

“Then we’re blown to smithereens. We have to finish the job. The fire is spreading.” 

Without being told, Sundance banked and did a sharp turn to bring them around. Incoming wads of webbing made things difficult however, and he had to swerve to avoid them. Trees were scattered everywhere, his eyes watered from the smoke even inside his flight goggles, and he was fearful of what the flames might do if they weren’t extinguished. Somehow, he flew in between the gooey globs of webbing and maintained a steady straight-on course. 

Paradox did not disappoint. As they went whooshing past, another fireball was dropped. This one was far more controlled however, and they weren’t almost blasted right out of the sky. It did cause a spider to explode though, and several smaller spider survivors ignited. Legs flailing and kicking, they ran about in an engulfed panic. A second blast obliterated them and the resulting explosion actually put some of the flames out. 

Most of the copse of trees were gone now, just so much splinters and charcoal. Some of the trees on the outer edges survived, or would survive if the fires were extinguished. Smaller spiders fled, running, scurrying for any crack or crevice that might offer shelter. As for the larger spiders, they were exposed now, and made for easy targets. Without thinking, Sundance banked and prepared to come around once more. 

The spider menace ended today; it wasn’t the mission they’d set out to do, but it was the mission they’d complete. 

Teeth bared, gritted, his black, sooty lips pulled back into a ferocious snarl, Sundance once more flew between the dangerous clumps of hurled webbing. The black sooty trails that flowed from his wings looked a lot like smoke. He was in a place beyond fear, beyond terror, an emotional plateau of grim resolve. No unnecessary thoughts cluttered his mind, he had no distractions. This time as they passed, a truly enormous spider—a matriarch if not a queen—met its end in the fiery conflagration. The massive hairy abomination ignited, and as it burned it sizzled and spat like oil in too-hot a pan. 

They’d come for River Raider, one of his own, and now, he’d come for them. 

As he circled around once more, Sundance understood a great many things about himself that he didn’t know just five minutes ago. He was a creature of terrible truths and absolutes, one of which was vengeance. River Raider had almost died and she was still in recovery. The spiders had almost taken something precious to him—so now they would burn for their trespass. The last thing that they would know would be terror and flame that poured down from the skies—and the skies were his. 

Flowers of terrible truth blossomed down below him, wretched roses whose growth was fertilised by death, the consumption of flesh, of life. Red-orange petals opened, spreading wide, exquisite creations of tragic beauty. More trees fell, regrettable but acceptable losses. Hennessy was screaming; no words, just a terrible sound that poured out from his mechanical respirator. Together, the trio had themselves a moment, though Sundance was only aware of his own. 

Upon this day a pegasus flew through smoke and fire, and like a phoenix, was reborn. 



 

At long last, nothing moved. No grotesque hairy eight-legged horror stirred. Vast plumes of smoke rose up into the sky from charred patches of scorched earth. The last of the flames were dying now, smothered bit by bit as Paradox suffocated them. An appalling stench violated the nostrils with each breath, but Sundance was beyond caring about such trivialities. Never had he felt more like a baron, a leader. 

He was quite pleased with himself. 

All victory had cost him was a copse of trees. 

“Beyond what remains of the trees,” Hennessy shouted. “Eastward. I see a valley. Sundance, have a better look and tell me what you see.” 

After gaining a bit of elevation, Sundance squinted through his soot-encrusted goggles to have himself a better look. Yes, beyond the burned mess was a sort of valley, a sheltered place between the meadow and the foothills. Whatever he was supposed to be looking for, he couldn’t see it. To him, it was just a patch of earth, a shallow valley. Yet Hennessy clearly saw something, so surely something had to be there. But what? What exactly was he supposed to see? 

“There’s no green.” Her voice weak and somewhat hoarse, Paradox was difficult to hear over the sound of the roaring wind. “It’s all just dirt from what I can see.” 

“Exactly!” Hennessy called out. “The spiders lived here because they had a food source nearby. It would take a lot of rabbits to strip the land of green like that. We should go have a better look over that way once we know for sure that the fires are out.” 

Sundance found himself in agreement and said, “We can do that…” 





The valley floor was barren dirt for the most part. There were some shrubs, but these were stripped of leaves. Sundance noticed the condition of the topsoil, which was dried out, cracked, and crumbly. While he was no farmer, he had been paying attention and had learned a few things about healthy soil. This gully was long, quite narrow, and may have once had flowing water, but it was long gone. 

Along each side of the gully were shelves of rock, outcroppings and overhangs where the land had eroded away beneath. These formed sheltered places, and Sundance suspected that these sheltered places might be infested with rabbits. He saw what might have been some sort of berry thicket, maybe raspberries, but the branches were bare, stripped of anything fruity or green. 

“If you could see what I can see right now, you’d drop a load of horseapples,” Hennessy said to his companions. “There are deep burrows beneath these ledges. Massive warrens. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. There’s too much red to count.” 

“Not so sure I can blow up tons of rock,” Paradox said. 

To which Hennessy replied, “I don’t think you can either. No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“We could try collapsing the stone overhangs, but the bunnies would just burrow out.” 

Though perhaps not as smart as his passengers, Sundance was well-aware of the futility of this task. The old riverbed had carved a sort of fortress for rabbits and it seemed as though they were here to stay. Dynamite might be of some use, though Sundance doubted its effectiveness. They would need a lot of it because there were many stone outcroppings on both sides of the gully. After his explosive victory over the spiders, this stung a bit. 

“It would take the Underwatch Corps of Engineers to rid this place of pests,” Hennessy said as Sundance continued his flyover. “Still, we’re going to see what we can do ourselves. Maybe we can make this a long-term project.” 

“So this is the place?” asked Sundance. 

“It might be. Might not be the only place.” 

After a bit of thought, Sundance found the wisdom in Hennessy’s words. 

“Paradox, think you can cause one of those overhangs to collapse?” 

“Maybe,” she replied to Hennessy, “but we’ll have to land.” 

“I figured as much,” was the earth pony’s patient reply. 

“Can’t hit what I need to hit from the air. Would have to cause a big kaboom from below.” 

“Put us down, Sundance. We need to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” 



 

Choking smoke hung heavy in the air and tickled the lungs. A terrible stench lingered, the foul funk of burnt hair and roasted spider. Sundance stood on dry, powdery soil that poofed up little clouds of dust with every step. His wings ached, his back hurt, and his throat was parched. If only his mother could see him now. Sweat and soot formed a paste of filth that caked his hide and befouled his wings. 

“I can’t believe that rabbits would do this,” Paradox said as she passed the water canteen to Sundance. “Just look at… everything.” 

“And we might’ve made everything worse.” 

Upon hearing these words, Sundance held the canteen in his right wing and gave Hennessy a curious stare. 

“The spiders were eating the rabbits,” Hennessy said to explain himself. “Now, with the spiders gone, the rabbits can only prosper and do what rabbits do. There’s nothing to hold them back, and so—” 

“We made it worse?” Paradox’s words were almost a shriek. “But the spiders were a real threat to the barony!” 

“And the primary threat to the rabbits,” Hennessy said in a smooth voice of reassured calm. “Look around you. Up and down this gully, under these overhangs, there are massively overpopulated warrens. Some of them are hot with disease.” Raising a hoof, he gestured at the mask that he was no longer wearing. “Put it on, if you’d like.”

Paradox groaned, kicked the dust, and then began to grumble to herself. 

Meanwhile, Sundance had himself a cool drink of water. 

“We’re a couple of miles away from the barony,” Hennessy said, his words soft and his demeanour thoughtful. “There’s a ravine where the orchard is, and there’s water there. That won’t slow the rabbits down much. They’ll spread from here in search of food. There’s tens of thousands… maybe hundreds of thousands, I have no way of knowing. There’s been multiple rabbit famines in Equestria when the conditions turn just right for rabbits to swarm.” 

“This seemed so much better when all we had to do to fix it was blow stuff up.” 

“I know, Paradox. I’m sorry.” Bowing his head, Hennessy slipped into thoughtful silence. 

“Not every battle ends in victory.” With the canteen held inches away from his lips, Sundance tried to flick some filth from his tail in an effort to regain his noble composure. “Hennessy, can the Underwatch do something about this?” 

“You can go on the waiting list…” As his words trailed off, Hennessy turned away from Sundance. 

“Right. No hard feelings. So we find another way. If we put our heads together, we’ll think of something.” 

For the first time in his life, Sundance began to understand the danger of what could happen if things went out of balance. It was beyond his understanding. For almost all of his life, he’d lived in the city, a place that he now understood had artificial balance—at the cost of unbalancing everything around it. A whole variety of factors had conspired against the barony; feral weather, geography, biology, the ecosystem, all things that he could barely comprehend. 

With a turn of his head, he glanced upwards at the ridge above and watched the pillars of smoke that rose from the obliterated spider colony. The spiders were far too much a danger to let live, and yet the spiders protected them from a different threat that was no less dangerous. There could be no doubt about it; the spiders had to go. For Sundance, he was confident of this. He could deal with the consequences of the rabbit swarm, but he couldn’t deal with the potential consequences of the continued existence of the spiders. Somepony might die, and that, that was unacceptable. 

“Can rabbits swim?” asked Paradox. 

“Yes,” Hennessy replied without hesitation. 

“Well, bother.” 

“The slabs of stone here are granite,” Hennessy said. “Beneath them are layers of sedimentary rock and sandstone, from the looks of things. There’s all kinds of cracks, crevices, and crannies. You could try gas, but the porous nature of the rock might work against you.” 

“All of this used to be a river, or a creek, or some kind of flowing body of water with a funny name.” Sundance turned himself around, his hooves kicking up clouds of dust with each step. “Where did the water go? I mean, this whole area is supposed to be this great fertile patch of land. There’s a river flowing through the orchard in the next ravine over… so where did this river go?” 

“Sundance, are you suggesting that we try to restore the river?” asked Paradox. 

“I don’t know,” he replied, uncertain of the right course of action. “Might make things worse in some way. But the river is gone. I was told that the river in the orchard was larger at one time… large and deep enough to float barges full of produce down.” Holding out his wing, he pointed northwards at the jagged peaks of the mountains in the distance. “There’s a lot of water up there. It’s not getting down here. Maybe if we follow the riverbed to the source, we can figure out how and why the water stopped and—” 

“Flood this gorge,” Hennessy said whilst he nodded his head. 

“A lot of bunnies would drown and die horrible deaths if this place flooded. Their burrows are under the old riverbanks. I mean, you can see where the water once flowed and washed the soft stuff out from beneath the hard stuff. That’s why we have these stone shelves.” With a sad shake of her head, Paradox surveyed her surroundings, clucked her tongue, and then said, “It’s them or us.” 

“Might make the land a bit more fertile too. That’s good for the barony long-term.” 

“I agree, Hennessy,” Sundance said to his friend. “So… how about we have a bite to eat, and then we go north to find us a water source?” 

“That sounds like a plan,” the earth pony replied. “Certainly better than doing nothing.” 

“I don’t care what we do, just so long as we have lunch right now. I’m ravenous.” 

“Me too, Paradox,” Sundance said to the starving unicorn that had just made it rain fire. “We’ll have some lunch and then go north. No telling what we might find.” 

Again, Hennessy said, “That sounds like a plan.” 
> Damned if you do, dammed if you don't
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance’s sense of direction failed him. He flew toward an uncertain future, which just so happened to be to the north. Below him, the old riverbed widened, narrowed, widened, and narrowed, and did so in such a way that it formed a randomised pattern of sorts. Even though each section was different, unique in its own way, you could count on the riverbed to be wide or narrow. 

Whatever he was about to do, he had no guarantee that he wouldn’t make things somehow worse. There was no reassuring little voice in the back of his mind that told him what was right and what was wrong. Not that long ago, it had felt oh-so-very right to rain fiery death and destruction upon the spider colony. Within a half-an-hour or thereabouts of doing so, he’d learned more about the situation as a whole and it was then, and only then, that he had awareness that a mistake had been made. 

Life had been simple once. All the moral guidance he needed, he got from his mother. Sometimes his father said something helpful, but most of the time his father was silent. Quiet. His father could say more with a nod or a shake of his head than a pony with an army of well-paid speechwriters. The world had once been black and white. It made sense. White was good and black was bad. Princess Celestia was white; she was good, pure, and wholesome. Anything black was somehow the opposite of Princess Celestia, and therefore, by logical extension, not good.

At the moment, Sundance was pretty darn black. 

He’d been reborn in smoke and flame, though perhaps not for the better. Some part of him had changed, though he did not understand what it was, or even what had changed. In a metaphorical sense, he’d tasted blood… and wanted more. Unfurling pillars of fire and raining down destruction were frowned upon; bad ponies did that. Unless of course it was done to protect others. That made it moral. Made it right. Extreme catastrophic violence was somehow justified when done to protect your own. He’d brought ruination down upon his enemies, and it felt good. If given the chance, he’d do it again. Oh how he wanted to do it again—all he needed was an excuse. 

If necessary, excuses would be made. 



 

Elevated above the Crags was a basin of land wedged between two mountains and within this basin of land was a lake. Not a natural lake by the looks of things, either. Hennessy had spotted beaver dams, many of them, some of them partially submerged. These stretched between massive outcroppings of stone, boulders, and such. Some water flowed down from this basin and into the Crags, but from the looks of things, most of the lake seemed to drain off to the east, where it poured into a massive earthen maw to be consumed by the darkness within. 

A quick flyover suggested that if the dams that stretched between the stones were broken up, the lake would flow off of the southern edge of the basin valley, into the Crags, and then down into the ravines. But there were more dams that could be seen. This lake had grown over time; the flowing river had no doubt been dammed, a pond had formed, and then with the passing of many seasons, the pond grew larger, with dams spreading ever-outward to collect more water until it became the lake that Sundance saw now. 

“Is that… is that a ship?” asked Hennessy. “I thought it was a beaver lodge, but look at it. You can see straight lines and smooth timber. That’s not a beaver lodge in the middle of the lake.” 

“What’s a boat doing up here?” was Paradox’s befuddled reply. 

“I do believe that is the hull of an old airship,” Hennessy said, “and it is now a beaver castle. Look, you can see the keel as we fly over. And I think that’s the bow of the ship. It landed deck-side down. Probably crashed.” 

“There’s not much to see,” said Paradox as they circled. 

“If we drain the lake, there will be,” Hennessy replied. 

“Should we drain the lake though?” She allowed a moment for her question to sink in and then Paradox spoke again: “Would it be a mistake to destroy this lake? I mean, it’s huge. There’s fish swimming it in it. It’s existed long enough to become an ecosystem of its own.” 

Even with his own uncertainty, Sundance shared his thoughts with a terse answer. “We need the water.” 

“If we take out the beaver dams, water will flow southward again,” Hennessy said as Sundance flew in closer to the overturned hull in the middle of the lake. “But we won’t know what else might happen. There might be unforeseen consequences.” 

“It’s all so huge.” There was a prolonged pause from Hennessy and then he added, “And we’re so tiny. This lake has to be almost as large as Canterlot, if not larger. There’s no telling how long this has been here, slowly growing over time. If you look over there, you can see where the rivers run down the two mountains and meet in the middle. There’s a rather majestic waterfall. You can see where the river once flowed. These rocks are old and have stories to tell.” 

The peaks of the mountains were obscured by clouds. As Hennessy had stated, they were enormous. Off to the west was the barony, which was at a considerably lower elevation than where they were right now. The horizon stretched in all directions, but was obscured by ancient guardians that held up the sky. Hundreds, maybe thousands of streams and trickles of flowing water could be seen. These rivulets would meet up at a fork, and then the two bodies would flow together as one until this body too, met another and merged. The blood of the mountains flowed through exposed stony arteries. Insignificant trickles became roaring, raging torrents. 

A tiny speck among the giants, Sundance saw how everything flowed together. It was humbling. He was a steward to this land and the sheer immensity of it all made him feel small and inconsequential. Even the crashed ship in the middle of the lake was just a tiny thing really, just one more gnat among many. He saw another distant marsh in a secluded nook and wondered if that too, was the work of beavers. 

He thought of the shaped riverbed in the plateau above the barony and then wondered if that were true here as well. What if this had once been directed somehow? Those stone blocks in the Crags indicated that there had once been some immense structure there. The water here poured into the Crags—which may not have been the Crags but something else. Whatever water poured into that area would have to be directed somehow, channeled, otherwise whatever structure had existed there would have been flooded. 

With careful thought and consideration, he’d answered his own question, or at least he thought he did. Whatever had once stood where the Crags now existed would necessitate the controlled flow of water, which was then channeled down into the orchard ravine and the bunny burrow gorge. Afterall, all of this had once been farmland, which fed not only a great city, but all of Equestria. 

The beavers had assumed stewardship of the land and decided the fate and flow of the water. If he wanted to truly restore the orchard, the water would have to flow once again, unrestricted and free. With the water flowing once more, he would have irrigated land—the sort of land that might appeal to homesteaders. Access to water was important, though he only understood its importance in a vague sense. 

“Paradox, how do you feel about blowing apart some beaver dams?” he asked. 

“I’ll do it if you think it’s right,” she replied. “Whatever the right thing is, it’s beyond me. But I’ll trust your judgement.” 

“Hennessy?” 

At first, there was no response from the unmasked earth pony, only silence. But after some time spent in careful thought and consideration, he said, “I bet if we drained the lake, there’d be a lot of soil up here. Good soil. All that silt and muck. I bet this shelf of land would be a good spot for a second settlement. They’d have access to fresh water, quite a bit of space, and fertile ground. Sundance, a lot could be done with land like this.” 

Though he found himself in agreement, there were a few problems, the worst of which being that there was no easy way to get up here. This shelf of land was inaccessible for the most part, save for flying. Then again, Canterlot was also inaccessible, a city built atop a mountain. Whatever had once stood where the Crags now existed would have also been difficult to reach—a naturally secure space. 

“Paradox, I want you to take out the beaver dams. Nothing drastic, just bust some openings and we’ll allow things to drain out slowly. We’ll make a few careful strikes today, see how it goes, and then head back home. After a few days, we’ll come back out, see how things are developing, and take out more dam sections. Just a little at a time. We want to restore the natural flow of water, whatever that might be. Hennessy is right… this would be an excellent spot for a second settlement. If we want others to come and live here, we’ll need to clear land.” 

“I… agree,” was Paradox’s hesitant somewhat halting response. “Somepony will see this land as a prize to be claimed. A patch of land like this would be desirable. This is just the sort of carrot we need to lure somepony in.” 

Sundance found himself in agreement. “Yes, a carrot.” 

“The beavers don’t have much of a future here anyway,” said Hennessy. “Look around you. Tell me, what don’t you see? There’s hardly any trees left on this shelf of land. The lake has grown so large that there’s hardly any place for the trees to grow. The trees that are left are on the steep slopes of the mountainsides and aren’t easily accessible. If you look around, you’ll see that the beavers ruined their own paradise.” 

“That makes things easier,” Paradox said to Hennessy. “You’re right. The trees are just about done for. Sundance, bring me around. I’ll try to use some finesse this time rather than brute force. Go slow, if you can. I really need to concentrate if I want to be in control.” 

Angling his wings, Sundance then pushed his face into the current… 



 

Destruction could be restorative. Today was a day of lessons, and Sundance was oddly calm as the first of the dams was blasted open. First the water poured out in a trickle, but the dam began to break apart bit by bit. It shuddered and shook, the whole structure quivered, and then as the flowing water picked up speed, larger pieces of the dam gave way. Sundance watched it, but he was distracted by his own thoughts. 

Life was about accepting the consequences of your actions, good or bad, and making the most of them. Today, a mistake might have been made. In killing the spiders, he might have inadvertently removed the one thing that held the rabbits in check. Now he took another drastic action without fully knowing the outcome and its consequences. But this was done in a far more rational state of mind. Perhaps this was done for better reasons, but that remained to be seen. 

“If you look closely, you can see the inner-rings of dams,” Hennessy said as more of the outer dams gave way. “With each generation of beavers, this lake grew larger. It’s impressive really. I almost feel bad destroying this… but I understand that it needs to be done.” 

“All those stone blocks down there in the Crags… do you think that might have been a castle?” 

“Might have been, Paradox. Would have been a mighty castle with the size of some of those blocks. I can’t even imagine a unicorn lifting those. Would have taken an alicorn.” Hennessy clucked his tongue once, twice, thrice, and then went silent. 

“Castles need moats. I mean, classical castles had moats. Most of them. I would imagine that anything that flowed down from up here must have flowed in a moat around the castle. If there was a castle, that is. And then that moat water flowed down into those rivers to irrigate the land down below.” 

To which Hennessy responded, “Maybe, Paradox. We can only guess.” 

“Or we could ask Princess Celestia,” Sundance suggested. 

Each beat of his wings caused his tendons to creak. He was fatigued, exhausted, and in need of rest. The ache in his spine grew worse with every stroke that kept him airborne. He’d pulled something, that much was for certain. But the fight was over and he could take it easy now. Soon, he’d be home. A cool shower was in order, or maybe a bath. Yes, a long soak sounded good. After his soak, maybe he’d ask Corduroy if she had any ointment for sore backs. Maybe, just maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get a backrub. That would be fantastic. 

A whole section of dam gave way all at once, which released a terrific torrent. 

The future, though uncertain, seemed promising. 
> Bad news
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Sundance pushed open the door to the infirmary, he saw his devoted nurse playing cards with her patient. This gave him pause; Standing in the door as he was, he caused Hennessy to bump into him, and then there was a stunned gasp from the earth pony who now saw what had caused Sundance to halt. Scarcely an eyeblink later, Paradox bumped into Hennessy, who then brushed up against Sundance once more, and this caused a considerable amount of caked soot to sprinkle down to the floor like filthy snowflakes. 

"Three of 'shoes?" asked Flicker as the pileup happened in the doorway. 

"Go fish," Corduroy replied as she turned her head to look at the bumbling, stumbling trio. When she saw the falling filth flakes that dared to sully her floor, one eyebrow raised, her ears pricked, her jowls quivered, and there was a soft, low growl that lingered in the depths of her throat. 

Before the annoyed nurse could say anything, Flicker said to the trio, "Welcome back from the war. What in the bloody blue Tartarus happened? Were the bunnies armed with the latest in anti-air defenses? Wow, you smell. You stink like burning hair. What gives? Henny, did you piss off another dragon?" 

"No!" Hennessy blurted out in a rather embarrassed tone. 

"Well"—rather thirsty, Sundance smacked his lips and thought about a cup of tea—"we went out in search of rabbits and had ourselves a lovely aerial tour of the barony. Which was really quite nice and—" 

Here, Paradox nodded as she squeezed in past Sundance, who still blocked the door. 

"—just as we were starting to enjoy ourselves, we just so happened to fly over our neighbors at Spider City. They'd established their own little barony on my land, and I just wasn't having that. No way. So we commenced our bombing run, and Paradox very nearly blew us to smithereens when she—" 

"Look, I've never rained down fire, death, and destruction before, alright? It was my first time!" 

"—launched a fireball that was surely visible from space—" 

"I was panicked and failed to keep my emotions in check. You're very dear to me, Sundance, and I didn't want you killed… even though I was the one that almost killed you. Sorry." 

"—and this fireball leveled most of a small patch of trees and very nearly blew us right out of the sky. When I say that Paradox could easily blast a small town or a village right off of the map, I am not exaggerating. I somehow managed to ride the shockwave out of the blast zone and now I feel like I have a bit of a sunburn all over. As for the spiders, most of them were exploded into hairy twitchy bits, and there were kicking legs scattered everywhere." 

"Ghastly," Flicker muttered while Corduroy continued to softly growl. 

"The spiders fought back and shot webs at us," Sundance said so that he might continue his story. "So we had no choice but to obliterate them, which we did, and I'm pretty sure that we killed the spider queen. I got to watch a spider as big as a wagon pop like a pimple." 

"Oh, and we found some bunnies, blew up a beaver dam, botched something as simple as blowing up a beaver dam, caused a massive flood, and we might have washed several hundred thousand or so bunnies right out of a gully and flushed them a few miles downstream. The good news is, Sundance has a new river." Hennessy, mindful as always, scooted out of the way and closed the door behind him. 

"Yes… I guess you could say"—a well-timed dramatic pause gave gravitas to Paradox's words—"that our harebrained schemes amounted to something." 

"Get out!" Corduroy shouted as she began to wave her paws around to express her indignation. "Take your puns and your dirty selves and get out! Don't come back until you shower! Go! Get out!" 



 

Freshly showered, Sundance had a look around as he stood near the infirmary. The crystal tree seemed different somehow, though Sundance could not say how or why, only that it was. As for the events of this day, they were instructive, at least. Educational. Still damp, he gave his wings a bit of a flap, and then immediately wished he hadn't. His sore back made him wince and he would've cried out, but he somehow hid his moment of weakness. The sunburnt sensation made his skin feel a size or two too small and he found it painful to move his ears. 

Yes, there was something different about the crystal tree. 

Even though it saddened him, he allowed himself to think of Cucumber. What might the old soldier think of today's events? He missed his retainer. It was Cucumber that gave him a practical lesson in nobility. The ancient old unicorn had taught him decency and simple goodness in a way that his mother and father hadn't. Sundance spent a moment trying to reconcile this; his mother and father weren't bad ponies… but the city had made them hard. Harsh. In the city, it was a matter of every pony for themselves, while out here, the barony stood together or did not stand at all. 

Maybe he was wrong. 

Maybe he was wrong and the prospect terrified him. 

What made a pony good? 

He shook some water out of his wings, unaware that others watched him, and wondered what constituted goodness. Today, he'd done what he felt was necessary, even though mistakes were made. The consequences of his actions—good or bad—he would face. Yes, he would own up to what he'd done. But did that make him good? As his unsettled thoughts paraded through his consciousness, he thought of the unpleasant parts of himself that surfaced earlier. When he'd gone into the cellar in search of Amber Dawn, he'd encountered a somewhat darker aspect of himself—a shadow waiting in the wings. While in the cellar, the shadow had lurked. But today, like a terrible leviathan that dwelt in the tenebrous depths, it had surfaced. 

Did this shadow make him bad? 

Or just complete as a pony? 

Without the darker aspect, would his light shine as bright? 

What was day without night, and vice-versa? 

Was it inner struggle that made a pony good? 

The knowledge that one could do great wrong but chose to do great good instead? 

Was he more of a whole pony now that he was aware of the shadow within? 

With no easy answers to be found, he decided that he was ready to face Corduroy once more. 



 

This time when he opened up the door, Corduroy seemed far more welcoming. She nodded as he entered, and gestured him closer with her paw. The cards were put away and Flicker lay on his side, unmoving. He tried to think of what to mention first, or if he should apologize for dirtying the floor, but his mind was far too unsettled to sort these things out. As the door shut behind him, Corduroy held up a little yellow paper envelope. 

"You got a telegram while you were out," she said. 

"I did?" He paused, surprised. "Somepony flew all the way out here to deliver this?" 

"They did," Corduroy replied. "I signed for it." 

"Well, what's it say?" 

"I haven't the slightest idea, you dirty bird." The stern nurse almost seemed offended. "For reasons of common decency, I make it a point to avoid reading the private missives of others." 

"Oh." 

"Oh, indeed. Now read this and tell me what it says, I'm dying to know." Paw extended, she held out the yellow paper envelope. 

"My wings are still damp," he said to his nurse. "Would you mind opening it up for me and holding it for me to read?" 

In response, she said nothing. After a quiet moment, she stuck out her thumb, slipped her claw beneath the lip of the envelope, and with a flick of her wrist, she cut a clean line through the paper. Inside was a whitish-yellow piece of paper, which she pulled out, unfolded, smoothed out, and then held up for Sundance to read. He moved closer, curious, and peering down his nose, he had himself a good look at his telegram. 



SUNNY -(STOP)- YOU NEED TO FLY TO CANTERLOT RIGHT AWAY -(STOP)- GRANDMOTHER DIED -(STOP)- BODY SENT TO CANTERLOT -(STOP)- OBEY HER FINAL WISH -(STOP)- DETAILS IN CANTERLOT -(STOP)- CITY MORGUE -(STOP)- OFFICER MOM



A soft sigh escaped Sundance as he stood there and stared at the paper. 

"What's it say?" asked Corduroy. 

Still struggling to come to terms with what he'd read, it took him a moment to find his voice so that he might reply, "My grandmother died." 

The paw holding the paper trembled for but a moment and then went still. Sundance blinked—he did not want to believe his eyes—and then he had no idea what to do. He had no luxury of falling apart, and with his mouth hung open, he made a valiant attempt to recover his senses. His grandmother… Noonfire Shimmer. The scariest, nicest mare he'd ever known. Kind but stern. Gentle, but also harsh. The mare who took him to movies and rewarded him for good grades, much to Officer Mom's consternation. Officer Mom was a firm believer in getting good grades for the sake of good grades, and not for a reward. 

It was an odd thing to recollect at this moment. 

Noonfire had set him on his path. 

Her stories brought him here to where he was now. 

It was her unwavering belief in him that got him through school, the time of his life where he had no acceptance and he didn't understand himself. She celebrated him as a pony during those desperate years when he could not. Noonfire had given him bits and told him to buy mare-mags—a fact that his mother had no knowledge of. 

She had shaped almost every aspect of his life… and now she was gone. 

"I have to go," he somehow managed to say as the first shudders wracked his body. 

"Sundance, wait—" 

"I have to go," he said again, repeating himself. He backed away, his knees wobbling with every step, and it seemed as though his strength might fail him at any moment. "I have to go." 

"Sundance—" 

"I have to go!" 

And so he left. 
> Inappropriately pink
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Canterlot City Morgue was a tall, narrow building made of dull grey and pale pink marble that was, perhaps, a bit more cheerful than it ought to have been. In front of the morgue was a wide section of street that served double function as a runway, with all the markers freshly painted and highly visible. Right beside the morgue was a tailor that specialised in formalwear and next to the tailor was a memorial mason that made headstones and monuments. Everything the recently deceased needed all in one convenient location, a mall of sorts that specialised in very specific customers. 

There was no sign of a florist. 

Outside of the morgue, Sundance hesitated. Now that he'd found the place—after some time spent looking and asking for its location—he found that he didn't want to go in because he didn't want to face this. All he could think about was Cucumber and all of the pain that still lingered. Noonfire Shimmer wasn't dead until he saw her with his own two eyes, so every moment spent in procrastination allowed her to live just a little bit longer. 

He turned about, his hooves thudding against the tarmac, and saw a photographer's shop with eye-catching window advertisements stating that they photographed the dead. Fond memories could be captured forever on film. Overcome by memories, Sundance allowed himself to stare at the photographer's windows for a short time as he relived precious moments with his grandmother. 

When the delay became unbearable, Sundance acquiesced and entered… 



 

Sundance was lead into an office by a silent mare who'd said nothing beyond a simple "Follow me." So follow her he did into a room with dark wood wainscotting and opulent antique furnishings, relics from another era in perfect preservation. In the office were two ponies, both of whom Sundance knew, but only one of them he was actually surprised to see. As for the other, it made sense that he was here… 

"Sumac," Sundance said as the silent mare shut the door behind him. "Fancy Pants." 

"I say, Sundance… were we to meet under better circumstances. Sorry, old chap." 

"I was starting to worry if you got the telegram," Sumac said matter-of-factly. "It was dispatched this morning not long after the arrival." 

Rather than respond, Sundance stood there breathing. Sumac was sitting behind a massive ornate desk, while Fancy Pants sat in an overstuffed paisley chair in the corner. A decanter of some sort of golden brown liquor sat on the desk, and there were glasses just beside it. There were photographs on the wall—family photographs by the looks of them—and Sundance allowed his eyes to wander. 

When Sundance did finally muster up the words for a response, they were soft-spoken and barely audible. "Fancy Pants… I did not know that you were the sort to hang out at the morgue." 

"Typically I wouldn't." The unicorn's dry wit was on full display. "But I was trying to convince young Sumac here of the righteousness of my cause. I chose to approach him on his home turf, such as the parlance goes. I am dreadfully sorry about your grandmother, Sundance." 

"Thank you," Sundance managed to say, though he couldn't muster any feeling. 

"Your grandmother arrived by mail," Sumac said as he pressed his front hooves together. "Royal Mail. Funerary class. There's also a letter with her, which I am certain that you will want to read. Would you care for a drink, Sundance? Something strong, perhaps?" 

Head tilted, Sundance considered the question. The dark specter of hooliganism lurked within the back of his mind, a sort of annoying ache that made it difficult to think, and if it gained strength, would make him short-tempered. His eyes focused on the crystal decanter for a time, and then at the bespectacled pony behind the imposing desk. 

"I would love a cup of tea," he said at last. "Strong. Make the spoon stand up." 

Expressionless, Sumac reached out his hoof, pressed on something on his desk, waited for a short time, and then said, "Miss Fazool, a cup of tea if you please… Pebble-grade." 

"Oh my," a voice said from within the box on Sumac's desk. "Right away, sir!" 

"Do have a seat, Sundance. Rest for a moment. We have some work to do, but that will come later." Foreleg extended, Sumac gestured at a nearby chair. "You look exhausted. Please, do have a seat. Make yourself comfortable." 

Curiously compelled, Sundance found that he wanted to be comfortable, so he had himself a seat. 



 

The cup of brown sludge was fragrant, potent, and caused Sundance to shudder when he sniffed it. Just as an alicorn was a highly evolved pony, the next step in equine existence, this cup of brown reassurance was tea ascended. It was tea that had gone off to do better things, greater things, and now served a noble purpose. Just like an alicorn, it was somewhat frightful to behold such unfettered perfection. Sundance suspected that if he drank it, it would be a part of him… forever. The Sundance that was before and the Sundance that would come after would be two very different ponies. 

Across the room, in the corner, Fancy Pants was polishing his monocle. The act—though harmless enough in its own right—caused Sundance to feel a bit self-conscious. All he could think about was his own appearance. Rough, shaggy, unkempt, windblown, with wings that hadn't been properly groomed. When was the last time he'd had his mane and tail trimmed? What might his mother say? Or his grandmother for that matter. There was a time when he'd cared about such things—but that time now seemed so distant, so long ago. 

"I cannot help but wonder if I should take my leave," Fancy Pants said. 

Clutching his teacup, Sundance was quick to respond: "Please, stay if you will. I need friends." 

"I am honoured that you consider me a friend," the well-bred unicorn said in return. 

"When I left home, she was sort of sick. Her mind was going… just a bit. There were times when she was a silly pony… but there were times when she was a silly pony before she got sick, so it was hard to tell when she was having one of her episodes. She might laugh at inappropriate times, or be distracted, or unable to pay attention. Which is sorta how she lost her job and why she had to go on a pension." 

"Mercury dementia." Sumac's words were almost painfully solemn. 

"She was so young," Sundance said. "Sometimes, she'd get mad at me for saying she was my grandmother. There were times when ponies confused her for my mother when we went out together. She was a teenager when she had my mom, and my mom was a teenager when she had me. But the mercury made her old. She… changed." 

"In Ye Olden Days, we called it Alchemist's Palsy." There was a long pause from Sumac, who then continued, "Though it wasn't much of a palsy. Not sure why they called it that. And it is only very recently that we've started to understand the toxic effects of mercury exposure. Just think… we used to use it in medicines and to alleviate the symptoms of sexually transmitted diseases." 

With his nose held just above his teacup, Sundance had nothing to say about that. 

"Society is still recovering from the loss of foal-labour," Fancy Pants said in subdued tones that held a hint of shame. "The idea of protecting workers from hostile job conditions is still relatively new. And quite unliked by the industrialists as it eats into profits. I dare say that a few decades from now, mercury dementia will be a thing of the past, just as foal-labour is now done away with. A tragic hoofnote in the history books. It is my sincere hope that we'll have learned to do better." 

"But that doesn't bring back those now lost," Sumac said with faint wistfulness. 

Sundance could not help but think of his own peasants and their lives. While he wasn't an industrialist—at least, he didn't think he was—he had workers who lived and worked in dangerous conditions. Broken legs could happen, along with all manner of horrible, awful, terrible things. Dire fates. Spider season was a thing. If only somepony had cared enough about Noonfire's well-being and had protected her, his grandmother might still be alive. 

Somewhere, buried beneath the grief, there was a lesson to be learned. 

After blowing on it a few times, he had a sip of tea—and immediately wished he hadn't. Nothing in his life had prepared him for how his jaw muscles clenched and the skin of his face went as tight as a drum. His eyelids felt two, maybe three sizes too small, and he gained sudden awareness of the earwax in his ears. Blood flowed through his sinuses, he could feel it now with his newfound perception of reality as he transcended beyond all sense of taste. 

As the brown goo traveled down the pipe, Sundance's body made a frenzied effort to deal with it and the widespread changes it wrought on the way down. This was tea only in the barest sense of definition, in much the same way that a stick of dynamite was technically a firecracker, only larger, more dangerous, and with greater potency. The world blurred over and then came into impossibly sharp focus. There was no telling what might happen once the goop reached his stomach, and Sundance wasn't certain that he was ready to find out… 



 

"—it's really rather amusing, really. Pebble takes her tea yak-style. Everything is added to a pot, the leaves, milk, spices, and then the chai is cooked like a reduction. Everything condenses. Pebble insists that yak-style tea will catch on and become the next big thing, like the current coffee fad that's taken over." A polite, wry smile appeared on Sumac's face, but only for a moment, and then was gone. "Pebble has strange notions. I'm not sure ponies are ready for yak-style chai." 

All too aware of how his eyelashes vibrated in tune to the hum of the universe, Sundance somehow managed a polite nod to show that he listened. All of his fatigue was gone, banished, sent away to some far off place and never to be seen again. He might never sleep again, or suffer from hooliganism. No, society was not ready for this, and neither was Sundance, who could now feel every molecule in his body jittering and rubbing against one another. 

"Your grandmother wanted to be buried at the barony," Sumac said as he leaned forwards over his desk. "She wished to be returned to her ancestral lands. As it turns out, arrangements were made about a month ago… so I suspect that a part of her understood that she was going. She prepaid her own postage and made arrangements for transport." 

That sounded exactly like something his grandmother would do. 

"We'll carry her home. Tomorrow. Bright and early. For tonight, you can stay with me. I have a townhouse here in Canterlot. It's a bit small, and kind of cramped, but it suits my needs when I'm stuck here overnight. One of Night Light and Twilight Velvet's housekeepers will be there, though I'm not sure which one. Maybe more than one. They're quite old, but still have purpose and dignity." Sumac made a quiet clearing of his throat, tapped his front hooves together, and then used his magic to adjust his eyeglasses. 

Then, in a soft voice he asked, "When you finish your tea, would you like to see her?" 

The words caused his blood to run cold and Sundance turned his head so that he might look Sumac in the eye. He had a sip of tea, but it failed to warm him. His heart raced and squirted the frozen slush in Sundance's arteries around. Seeing her meant that he had no choice but to accept that she was dead, and Sundance didn't want to do that. He very much wanted to remain in this paradoxical state of limbo where he was right now, so that he might deny what he had not seen with his own eyes. 

His mouth, a hateful, spiteful orifice, betrayed him. 

"I'd like to see her." 

"Good. I am glad to hear you say that. We shouldn't fear death. On the contrary, death is as much a part of life as breathing… except the breathing stops." Once again, Sumac adjusted his eyeglasses, even though they were already level. "Finish your tea, and when you are done, we shall go and see her so that you might say your goodbye. There's also a letter for you to read, as mentioned. Don't feel rushed. And do not worry. I'll walk you through every step of this." 

Rather than say thank you, Sundance slurped down a sip of tea. 
> This isn't goodbye
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chill that Sundance felt came from within, and was not caused by the cold air. It was difficult to breathe for a moment, for a whole host of reasons. His emotions, the chemical stink that hung heavy in the air, and the constricting tightness around his barrel that felt as though it might crush his ribs. As for his grandmother, she lay on a steel table with her head resting upon an angled wooden block. It was almost as if she were sleeping, and she looked better right now than she did when she was alive. So much so that Sundance could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

"She suffered a stroke in her sleep," Sumac said as Sundance drew nearer to the table where his grandmother lay. "I just so happened to be in the office today, so I fixed her up a bit. When she arrived, her face sagged a bit and I must say, she was in rough shape. It's important that you get a chance to say goodbye, so I did what I could. I'm no miracle worker, but I'm good at what I do. Not to boast or brag, or anything like that. Goodness no." 

Upon reaching the edge of the table, Sundance stopped and looked down. She looked almost young again, and there was no sign of the stroke that Sumac had mentioned. Her mane, which had been thinning due to the mercury poisoning, now appeared thick and full once more—and this seemed impossible. His grandmother's face wasn't thin and pinched, her cheeks weren't collapsed, and there were no bags beneath her eyes. How had she been restored? Magic? What had Sumac done? 

"The stroke finished her off?" 

"I am sorry, Sundance… but it did." 

"And she was discovered right away?" 

"The report says she failed to show up to breakfast with a friend, so they stopped by her apartment. She was found within hours of death." 

"That's… that's… oh mercy, that's a relief." 

"I imagine it is," Sumac said, almost whispering. Reaching out his right wing, he slipped it around Sundance's neck in a loose embrace. 

Some of the fire in her hide had gone out, leaving her more of a yellow than the ochre orange that he remembered, almost the same colour as his own fine pelt. The vibrant red of her mane was now restored, and it stood out in sharp contrast to the golden yellow streaks. Not only was her mane two-toned, but two different textures as well, with the yellow streaks being curly while the hanks of red were straight. 

Studying her face, he could not help but notice… 

"There's some kind of gummy gunk around her eyes." 

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Sumac replied. "Had to close her eyes somehow. The stroke was not kind. While my work is very good, if you look too close, you will spoil the illusion." 

"No"—he took a step back and Sundance shook his head—"no, it's fine. You did an amazing job. She looks like she did when she was younger. This is my grandmother as I remember her. Thank you… thank you so very much." 

"Your flattery is most kind." 

"No, really." With a quick turn of his head, Sundance looked Sumac in the eye. "Thank you. This… this makes it easier. She looks so peaceful right now. When I remember her, she'll look like this." 

Sumac's response was to bend his slender neck and bow his head. 

With the tightness in his barrel ever-increasing, Sundance returned his attention to his grandmother once more. She would be forever young in his memories and he hoped that he would never forget this moment. He'd left home without saying goodbye, not knowing that he wouldn't return. Now, because of his actions, his grandmother was returning to a place once considered home. Just how was he supposed to feel about this? 

The return journey was longer than he knew or understood. It was a long, long road that stretched all the way back to Princess Celestia. Sometimes the bloodline was storied, but most of them were just average sorts. A few lords and ladies of significance. But the bloodline had fallen into obscurity, just as the barony had. It was his grandmother's stories that had started him on this journey, and so it seemed fitting that she somehow share in his reward, even if it were her final place of rest. 

Who were they? 

They were, above all else, royalists. It was in their blood. As far back as the bloodline could be traced, they were loyal royalists. Fierce, proud supporters of Princess Celestia. It was their defining characteristic, a common thread that connected them. A shared trait that echoed through the ages. Near the end, his grandmother and his mother were disconnected from the truth of their bloodline, but they had remained loyal royalists. That trait rang true. Maybe it was in the blood. 

Perhaps it was the familial need to flock together. 

Whatever the case may be, now was not the time to say goodbye. 

"Welcome back home, Grandmother. I've claimed a place for you to rest your head." 



 

Fancy Pants was gone and Sundance could not help but feel a little sad about that. Of course, he felt sad for other reasons, but there was something about the monocle-wearing unicorn's upbeat attitude that he truly needed right now. Sundance shuffled through Sumac's office, squeezed between some chairs, sat down, and for the first time he noticed that there were fish in a tank in the corner behind the door. The aquarium gave off a faint, soothing light that was easy on the eyes, and calming to the mind. 

Sumac returned to his desk, pulled his chair out, and with a heaving sigh, he sat down. There was a creak from beneath the chair, the rustle of hair against fabric, and then Sumac sank back with a tired groan. He closed his eyes for a moment, reached up to scratch his chin, lowered his foreleg down to the arm of the chair, and then went still. Sundance watched all of this while he also had a better look at the fish tank. 

"Rough time?" asked Sundance. 

"There was an incident at the school, and other places, and I've been going non-stop," Sumac replied. 

"I heard a little about the incident at school," Sundance said. "Hennessy told me. Flicker's out my way to recover." 

"I am always busy because somepony, or someone, is always dying." Sumac's voice was soft, solemn, and subdued. "No students died at the school… but the Underwatch lost several brave soldiers. They have the highest rate of casualties among the various guard regiments. Honestly, I don't know how Flicker holds himself together as well as he does. The losses he sustains…" As his words faded into a weary sigh, Sumac's head turned towards the aquarium in the corner. 

"You'd think that the Underwatch would run out of soldiers." 

"Yes, one might think that, Sundance… but due mostly to Hennessy's charisma, for every loss, every death, two or three foolhardy souls enlist. Some seek glory and celebrity. Others just want to do what is right. At some point, I had feelings about all of this, but after watching the meat grinder in action for all this time, those feelings have gone away." 

Unsure of what to say, Sundance chose silence. It seemed wise somehow. He knew nothing about the circumstances, the situation, and so stating a poorly thought out opinion might make him seem foolish. Yes, silence was for the best. Hearing a rustle of paper, Sundance turned his head in time to see Sumac opening an envelope with an ornate letter-opener. The glittery green glow was dazzling to the eyes and made him squint. 

Then, with the envelope open, a folded letter was taken out and held out to Sundance. 

"Thank you," he said as he accepted the letter, which he held in his primaries. 

"Don't mention it," Sumac replied. 

Overwhelmed by his hesitation, Sundance did not unfold the letter right away. It remained folded, held between his primaries, and he spent a moment trying to gather his resolve. A message from his old life. Everything that he'd left behind. All that he was before he left for Canterlot that fateful day. He might still be there now were it not for his project. His grandmother might have died and gone into a plot outside the city in a graveyard far too crowded. He'd left home and life had gone on without him. His departure had caused an endless number of ripples, but the flow of the stream somehow remained unchanged. Life just went on… until it didn't and one got news that one's grandmother had died. 

So it goes. 

So it went. 

The ache in his back turned stabby, as if to remind him that it was there, and Sundance shifted in his chair. In his mind, he could picture Cucumber, his grandmother, and suddenly he was thoughtful about death as a subject. All of his thoughts pained him, and for the first time since getting the news, he wanted to cry—but didn't. It was all held in. The floodgates would remain shut. His ungroomed wings made it difficult to unfold the letter, but he managed. For some reason, properly preened wings were grippy, but he had no time to think about that right now. 

Something about Sumac's expression said, "Go on, read it." 
> A letter from Officer Mom
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunny, 

I hope this letter finds you well. There's so much I want to say, so much I want to tell you, and I don't even know how to begin. So much has happened. I haven't had time to slow down and catch my breath. Mom died. Your father is taking it worse than I am. We're back together, he and I, and sharing an apartment. Mom died and I had no choice but to stop and figure everything out. When everything has calmed down, if everything will ever calm down, I might stop and be sad about it. But right now, I don't know how I feel. 

They have all of us working a shift-and-a-half since the Rent Riots. It's mandatory. Thirteen hour days, Sunny. A lot of us see it as a sort of bad omen. A dire sign. I can't even get time off work for bereavement. When I asked, I was told that I could quit if I wanted to. Truth be told, I almost did. I almost did. But so many others are quitting and we're already so short. There's also the fact that I can't afford to quit. Your father and I, we're just barely clearing rent, just like everypony else in this alicorn-forsaken city. 

It feels like everything is circling the drain, Sunny. There's so much desperation. Ponies seem to think they're entitled to this or that, and so theft and looting are rampant. Angry mobs attack grocery stores and just clean the place out. Department stores get ransacked. The stink of tear gas hangs over the city and never really goes away. I hate to say this, Sunny, but I'm glad you're not here. I'd be worried sick about you. I'd probably go out of my mind if I had to worry about you on top of everything else. 

Losing my mom means just one less thing to worry about. 

Is that awful for me to say? 

Stay away and don't come here, Sunny. 

Officer Mom. 
> Food for thought
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Officer Mom wasn't one to sit down and write letters, which she saw as paperwork. She was more of an in-your-face communicator, so the fact that she wrote a letter really was quite special. For a time, he held the letter in his dextrous primaries, and he tried to make sense of everything he felt right now. But it was what he didn't feel that worried him. While the grief was there, he wasn't floored by it, and when somepony lost a loved one, they were supposed to be overcome with grief. 

Perhaps the full extent of it just hadn't hit him yet. 

Maybe it needed time to sink in. 

"Could you put this back into the envelope for me?" he asked as he waved the letter. 

"Sure thing," Sumac replied. "I'll see that this gets packed up. Don't worry about it." 

"Thank you." 

"Don't mention it." Sumac took the letter, pulled open the envelope, and slipped the folded sheet of paper inside. "There's a hearse, but you'll have to pull it. I'm so very sorry. My usual pilot is sick. I feel very bad—" 

"Not to worry," Sundance said, smoothly cutting in. "I want to do this myself." 

"I can't actually do it," Sumac said, somewhat embarrassed. "Bad eyesight. Cadance keeps trying to fix my eyes, but I keep messing them up. I'm not allowed to fly with a load." 

"I can manage." 

"When we get done, the hearse will have to be returned to Ponyville." 

"Not a problem." 

"That's a relief. I wasn't sure how this might go. Thought I might have to call in a few emergency favours." Face downcast, Sumac stared at the surface of his desk while his lips moved with words that failed to come. 

"Really, I'm not upset about this. Nothing ever goes as planned." 

"Thank you, Sundance. That is very kind of you to say." Then, after lifting his head, Sumac asked, "Shall we go and get supper? Are you hungry? I mean, I know what just happened, and there's a fifty-fifty chance that you're hungry. I know a place. It's quiet. My treat." 

"I would love a bite to eat, actually." The more Sundance thought about it, the more ravenous he became. Sure, his grandmother had died, and while all of this was terrible, he'd had a long day. All this flying around left him hollowed out and he desperately wanted to fill the emptiness with food. 

"Good… we'll just finish up here and then we'll go…" 



 

A regal sunset blazed in the west, a long day laid to rest in fire. Sundance felt out of place in this city for a whole host of reasons. The streets were crowded and traffic was heavy, both on the sidewalks and in the streets. A surprising number of ponies were armed in the most fashionable manner imaginable. For a city under siege, nopony seemed terribly afraid. Attitudes were different, too. So completely different than the crowded streets of Baltimare. 

"Up there," Sumac said to Sundance. "Bread Zeppelin. Yes, I know it sounds like a bakery, but they serve a little bit of everything. Mostly sandwiches and soups. It's moored right above Brewed Awakenings, a coffee shop that is favoured by the intelligentsia of Canterlot." 

Upon hearing this, Sundance shuddered, though the reason why escaped him. 

"They serve tea, too, if that's your thing. Me, I swing both ways. I'll take whatever action I can get. It is said that Ponyville has become a city of swingers because of Twilight. As for Canterlot, anything goes in Canterlot." 

Again, Sundance shuddered, and was mightily uncomfortable. 

"We'll fly up there," Sumac said to Sundance, who was now severely out of sorts. "I mean, we could stand in line for the lift, but why bother? I'm a regular, so we'll get seated right away. Let's go." 

When Sumac spread his wings, Sundance did the same… 



 

It was, as Sumac had promised, a quiet place. Which was odd, for a place so bustling and busy as this establishment was. Each of the booths had walls between them and everything was decorated with an aero-maritime theme that was subdued and somber. Pictures of famous Wonderbolts, ship captains, and pilots covered the walls. As for the booth itself, it was downright luxurious, even by Canterlot standards. 

Somewhat distracted, but not overcome, Sundance picked up his menu. 

There was a whole page dedicated to soups, stews, and chili. All of which could be served in a bowl, or a bread bowl. The next page was all about fondues of various types, which appeared to be some sort of gooey cheese. After some time spent with his brows furrowed from thought, Sundance had a sort of vague recollection of fondue, which was some kind of fancy food eaten by snobs, and he only knew of it because his mother had complained about it. 

He saw all the usual things, like appetisers, but he didn't recognise most of them. Hors d'oeuvres? They clearly spelled 'horse' wrong, and Sundance was mildly offended to be referred to as a horse. He was a pony, not some half-evolved stone-age brute. It seemed the rich and well-to-do were into self-depreciation with their dining experiences. Or maybe this was all just some elaborate joke that he failed to understand. 

"So, a restaurant in an airship," he said in an effort to spark up some conversation. 

"Lots of ponies are doing it now," replied Sumac from behind his menu. "If business goes bad, just move to a new city. Some are calling it the future. I think it's a fad. We'll see." 

Hearing Sumac say this caused Sundance to think of home, and of the brewery airship that had limped out to the barony. Yes, there was a certain sense to it, but keeping it airborne, keeping it shipshape seemed more expensive than maintaining a regular building. Or maybe it wasn't and he was totally wrong. He might soon find out though, because he had a notion to buy a used airship if he could figure out a way to scrounge up the needed coin. 

"I've been meaning for us to talk," Sumac said as he peered over the top of his menu. "We share a border. Been wanting to talk about that for quite some time, and I've been so busy that I just haven't had a chance to even catch my breath. I thought about sending Silver Lining out your way in my stead, but some things really should be discussed by just the two of us." 

"Like what?" asked Sundance, who was grateful to be distracted from thoughts about his grandmother. 

The menu lowered itself just a bit more, revealing more of Sumac's bespectacled face. "Where do I begin? There's owlbears aplenty roaming the lowlands and running amok. We share an issue of bandits along the hinterlands of our border—" 

"Bandits?" Incredulous, Sundance shook his head. "Bandits? Like in the movies? Real, actual, honest-to-Celestia bandits?" 

"Yes"—there was a meaningful nod from Sumac—"dirty, smelly, horrible bandits. Nothing at all like what you might see in the movies." 

"There are actual bandits roaming my lands?" In total disbelief, Sundance almost put his menu down. 

"Not just bandits, but you have squatters, too. I've had my soldiers and hunters keeping an eye on them. They seem harmless enough, really. But they are in real danger from roaming monsters and bandits as well." 

"Squatters?" This time, Sundance did put down his menu. "What am I supposed to do about all of this? I don't have soldiers. There's no… no… what do you call it, uh—" 

"Garrison," Sumac offered as a suggestion. 

"Yeah, I have no garrison. What do I do about this?" 

Sumac's menu lowered just a bit more. "Well, I'm doing what I can, but I have my own lands to patrol. You… you, on the other hoof, you have one of the largest and most hostile stretches of unsettled wilderness within your borders. And all the animals are acting weird. There shouldn't be owlbears in the lowlands. Something is out of balance." 

This gave Sundance pause as he thought about the spiders and the rabbits. 

"Your borders cover most of the Foal Mountains," Sumac said. "Everything from the Everfree and the Rambling Rock Ridge northward is yours. You have claim to some of the Hollow Shades. You and I share a border that stretches for hundreds of miles. It will be a challenge to maintain security along such a stretch of undeveloped wilderness." 

"How do I do this? I mean, how do I fix this?" asked Sundance. 

"Right now, and for the immediate future, you can't," was Sumac's forthright response. 

Defeated, Sundance slumped over the table, borne down by the sheer enormity of the situation. Head down, he looked down at his menu, and even in his current state of despair, he was hungry. His eyes read the words, but his brain failed to register them. Up to this point, he was so focused on the part of the barony that he knew, and everything else was neglected. Which was, perhaps, not his fault—there was only so much one pony could do—but he still felt responsible for these new woes. 

"So bandits are actually real?" asked Sundance once more, still in disbelief. "I mean, it's hard to believe. Equestria is a modern country and everything is so—" Words failed him, and he had no idea how to finish his own sentence. 

"Yes, and sometimes they rob the trains that run to the north of your lands." The menu covered Sumac's face once more, and so it was impossible to read his expression. "There's train robbers and stagecoach robbers and real honest-to-goodness bandits in your northern reaches." 

"And the previous lord of the land did nothing about them." 

The tip of Sumac's horn bobbed up and down as he nodded from behind his menu. "Correct." 

Then, quite suddenly, Sundance had a thought, which made him say, "One of yours has come to live with me." 

"Oh?" 

"River Raider"—as Sundance said it, he saw Sumac peer over the top of his menu once more—"big scary night terror. Anti-social." 

"I know of her, but I don't know her that well," Sumac replied. "How is she?" 

"Almost died to a spider swarm. She has a nice room in a recently renovated cellar. I hope she's happy." 

"We get giant voracious centipedes in Lulamoon Hollow. At least in the parts shrouded forever in shadow. They come up out of the Howling Abyss, which is a huge chasm located at the base of the Canterhorn. Some of these unpleasant fellows are two yards long." 

Upon hearing the words 'two yards long', Sundance gulped. 

"When the wind blows through the Howling Abyss, it makes a mournful sound. It's not really much of a howl. More of a moan or a groan. I feel foolish for changing the name to 'Howling Abyss', but what's done is done." 

"You changed it? What was it called before?" 

"Celestia's Split," Sumac deadpanned from behind his menu. 

"Oh." Sundance cleared his throat once, felt that wasn't enough, and did so again. "Oh. Oh my. Well, it is probably for the best that you changed it. Celestia's Split, you say?" 

"Yes"—the flat deadpan held no trace of emotion—"and Celestia's Split was infested with giant voracious centipedes. I suspect that Luna named this particular geological feature." 

Sundance was amused for a brief moment, but when his thoughts turned to his grandmother, he chose to think about bandits instead. Yes, it was easier to be angry than sad—but his anger was a brief flash of heat that did not last. He pushed his mind to think about anything but his grandmother, anything at all, and while he could not work up a fury about the bandits on his lands, he was at least rather miffed about the whole thing. 

It was a terrible thing, to want to rage, to fume, but feel almost nothing at all. 



 

The sandwich (a slab of battered deep fried cheese) might have been one of the best things that Sundance had ever eaten, but he barely tasted it at all. His throat kept going tight, almost closing, and if this kept up, he might very well choke. None of the lettuce or the greens wanted to be chewed. All of his innards writhed against themselves, his back ached more than ever, and the turmoil in his mind threatened to spiral out of control. 

Like flying into a storm, or slaloming the stacks, he had to hold himself together. 

"A question for you, Sundance… if you don't mind." 

Though he said nothing in return, he did look up from his food. 

"Does the Crown owe you an existence?" asked Sumac. "Well, not just you. Everypony. Everyone. Every subject beneath the Crown. I brought up the question in the philosophical sense, hence the usage of 'you'. But it is the question of our era. Does the Crown owe you an existence?" 

More than a little confused, Sundance licked his greasy lips and gave it a think. 

"Care for a little thought exercise?" asked Sumac. 

Uncertain of whatever might happen next, Sundance offered a reluctant nod. 

"We live on a remarkable planet. A planet that forgives a multitude of sins. But what is important is, it is a planet we can exist upon. Though fragile and precarious, we manage to eke out our continued existence." Sumac paused in a manner that might have been melodramatic if it weren't so sincere. "If there was no Crown, we might continue to exist, whatever that existence might be." 

Again, Sundance nodded, but he was baffled; this was way out of his league. 

"So, imagine if we removed all of this. Imagine if you will, that we were spacefarers. A cold void, a vacuum with no air. No oxygen, no water, no food. Now we ask the same question: does the Crown owe you an existence? Does the Crown have an obligation to keep you alive? Should the Crown provide you with air, water, and food?" 

For the second time, Sundance licked his lips, and all thoughts of his grandmother faded into the depths of his mind. His own perceptions shifted so rapidly that for a moment he wasn't sure if he was even himself—his mind felt strange and unknown. The doors of perception were now blown wide open, and he began to think of all sorts of things that he knew could not be unthunk once thunked. 

"If the Crown didn't provide those things, those ponies would die," he managed to say through quivering, greasy lips that struggled to make words. 

"Exactly," Sumac said in a remarkably soft voice of placid calm. "The only thing that allows the Crown to neglect so many is because the consequences for doing so are softened by what we have… a planet that supports our existence. The current system allows for failure. It allows us to cast aside so many and then offer moral platitudes about only helping those who help themselves. We live on a planet that forgives our callousness." 

These words echoed in Sundance's ears, and wormed their way into his grey matter. 

"What if those who ruled… us for example… you and I… we're part of the whole body that makes up the Crown… what if we made decisions, moral decisions, and we pretended as though we didn't have a planet that allowed for a multitude of sins? What if we embraced the consequences of our own actions? What if we acted as though the creatures we failed to help died because of our inaction?" 

In between Sundance's ears, he could feel the physical sensation of something that gave way. 

"We're on the verge of becoming a spacefaring civilisation," Sumac said to Sundance. "We Lulamoons have made significant advancements to rockets. Whatever comes next, it changes everything. When we were launching one of our atmospheric probe rockets, Princess Luna posed this question to me. I must say, it blew my mind. I was younger. Not yet the Lord of Lulamoon Hollow. I was a young adult, and like most young adults, I thought I had everything figured out. I was so smart and I was going to change the world. Nopony could tell me anything that I didn't already know. But then, Luna… she went and did what she did… and she cursed me. I haven't been the same since. Her questions… the questions I just asked you, they've haunted me." 

Sundance immediately thought of everything that Twilight had asked him to do, and he could not help but wonder if Luna had somehow gotten under Twilight's skin as well. It seemed likely. His downcast gaze landed upon his sandwich, but failed to focus. There were squatters on his land; no doubt life in the city had failed them and they now tried to live off the land. What if there was no land? Everything that he'd believed in up to this point of his life was now no more than mental debris. He thought of his mother's harsh words about welfare cheats and leeches. The dregs of society. For a panicked moment, he thought of Hollyhock and her circumstances. 

"We are the Crown, Sundance. You and I, and so many others. What do we owe our subjects?" The overhead lights reflected in Sumac's spectacles and made it impossible to see his eyes. "If I had my way, I'd have everypony—everyone—that works as we do dragged into a room full of Wardens and made to answer this question. We need to weed out our own. But… Princess Celestia tells me that would be tyranny… and she's no fan of tyranny." 

"For whatever it's worth"—Sundance hardly recognised the sound of his own voice—"I agree with you. I mean, the last lord of the Sunfire Barony… he… he did unspeakable things. We… we the Crown, we can do unspeakable things. We should have the workings of our minds thoroughly investigated. I think all of us should be made to answer the space question. The power that we have, it's dangerous." 

"Indeed it is," Sumac replied in a muted whisper. "I am glad… and more than a little relieved that we see things in a similar way, Sundance. Even if it amounts to what Princess Celestia calls tyranny." With a flare of glittering green magic, he lifted his glass. "To tyranny." 

In astonished disbelief of his own actions, Sundance too, lifted his glass. "To tyranny."
> Love, from beginning to its end
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The call of dawn pressed into Sundance's half-roused consciousness and the tapestry of dreams was rent asunder. As he was pulled into the light by wakefulness, the hazy, jumbled images of his dreams began to fade into forgetfulness. He'd flown too close to the ceiling of the sky and had run out of air. The terrible memory of suffocation felt far too real, until the light grew too strong and the dream retreated into the depths of his psyche. 

After he rolled over in the bed, he gulped in great gasps of air and the sting in his lungs hurried him to a state of wakefulness. His first real thought of the day, at least the first thought that his conscious mind made sense of, was of his grandmother. She had taught him to fly. Weekends. Her days off. So many hours spent in the park. As he thought of her, a flood of overlapping images rushed into his mind, memories so real that he could smell them, hear them, taste them. 

Ice cream. Skinned knees. The smell of grass stains on his pelt. Sometimes, other ponies shouted at his grandmother for allowing him to take his lumps, for letting him fall or crash. But she insisted that this was the best way, the only way that mattered. He remembered a miserable molt where most of his feathers fell out and he was mercilessly teased in school. His grandmother told him stories to make him feel better. All of these happened at once, each one overlapping the other, and with his senses overwhelmed, Sundance lay in the bed, gasping, fighting for air. 

She was gone and there would be no more lessons in the park. 



 

Mrs. Hawthorne had to be at least as old, if not older, than Cucumber. She teetered around the kitchen in a slow, hurried shuffle, trying to fix breakfast and tea. Her husband, Mr. Brush, was every bit as old as his dear wife, but nowhere as useful. Completely blind, he sat in the corner and polished silverware while occasionally grumbling to himself about glory days. 

As for the kitchen itself, it was long, narrow, and cluttered. But not claustrophobic. In the rear of the kitchen, at the back of the house, was a small round dining room, which is where Sundance sat. The dining room was the base of the tower that stood in the back of the house, and Sundance found it quite charming. This tower was more decorative than functional, with a small round room on each floor. On the second floor, where he'd slept, there was a bathroom, which had the most remarkable shower. 

When Sumac arrived in the kitchen, Mrs. Hawthorne huffed, "Late as always." 

In response, Sumac yawned and covered his mouth with his wing as he made his way through the long kitchen. When he reached the dining room, he yawned again, forgot to cover his mouth, and sat down opposite Sundance. It took him several long seconds to get settled in—he fidgeted in his seat while Mrs. Hawthorne relentlessly cleared her throat—and Sundance wondered what the morning routine was around this place. 

"It's not right for a husband to be away from his wife," the harried housekeeper said beneath her breath. 

"Wives," Sumac said as he slouched in his chair. "Wives." 

"All the more reason to be at home." 

"I am at home," Sumac said to the fussy mare. "This is my home. I am here. With two wives, I get nagged twice as much, and this is my refuge." 

"I don't need yer sass!" Turning about, the withered old mare waved a wooden spoon covered in oatmeal in Sumac's general direction. When her husband chuckled, she waved her spoon at him as well, and let out a long sigh of exasperation. "Such crassness! And what is that smell? Bottle Brush, have you been eating pickled eggs again? You know what the doctor said about you eating pickled eggs!" 

"Leave me alone, ye old nag!" the blind stallion said in return. 

Sumac and Sundance exchanged silent glances with one another. 

"For the love of Princess Celestia, somepony open a window!" When nopony moved to open a window, Mrs. Hawthorne did so herself, muttering beneath her breath the whole time about her husband's utter lack of decorum. 

"Sleep well?" asked Sumac. 

"Well enough," replied Sundance. 

"I like it here," Sumac said as he straightened up a little in his seat. "It's quiet. And peaceful. Mostly. There's no bratty dragoness to play pranks on me. I don't live in fear of vast puddles of excited manticore slobber. There's just sublime bliss. Though, I must confess, I do get lonely." 

Mrs. Hawthorne was still muttering to herself. 

"We have a long day ahead of us, Sundance. Have a big breakfast." 



 

"Mister Apple, good morning. Pleasant to see you. You're here early today, Mister Apple. Do you need my assistance?" 

A young, eager mare practically bounced on her hooves. Too young, really. So young in fact that it somehow seemed wrong that she worked in the morgue. It was downright disturbing and gave Sundance the shivers. Death was an uncomfortable subject—even more so with his grandmother dead—and this perky prancing morning pony who was barely even a mare seemed terribly out of place in the morgue. 

"Not today, Miss Gladiolus. I'll be heading out to the Sunfire Barony. But if you need something to do, the drains could use servicing." It was at this point that Sumac lowered his voice considerably. "The drains definitely need attention and I would be most appreciative if you were to look after them today." 

"Sure thing, Mister Apple!" Her cheerful face never wavered, and neither did her exuberant tone. "I can unclog the drains. Anything to urn a living." She leaned in a little closer, winked once, then a second time, and as she winked a third time, she pulled away. "Eh? Eh? Urn a living. Boxing clever, right?" 

"Indubitably, Miss Gladiolus. But please, do try to remember, this is a morgue. A house of the dead. We must try to be somber so that we might be accommodating to the grief of others. Do you recall what I said about self-restraint?" 

"Uh, no. Sorry. I'm really sorry." 

There was a long sigh from Sumac, followed by a prolonged inhale, and then came another extended sigh. When he spoke again, it was with remarkable patience. "Miss Gladiolus, we shall discuss this at a later time. For now, please, busy yourself with the drains. I do so treasure and appreciate your enthusiasm. You do good work. Now, away with you." 

"Thanks, Mister Apple!" the young mare whooped as she pronked away, her hooves clattering against the marble floor. 

Sumac watched her go, and once she disappeared beyond the door, he said, "She's good at what she does. Absolutely nothing phases her. Nothing at all. She genuinely loves the dead, and she treats them in exactly the same way that she treats the living. Which is to say, she's downright loquacious and will make every attempt to talk their ears off. All of her nattering is her way of making them feel better. When dealing with foals, she is almost playful and she speaks to them as though they weren't dead. She's a remarkable creature, but she lacks even an iota of self-restraint. I am sorry if she disturbed you, Sundance." 

After staring at the door for a short time, Sundance shrugged, then replied, "I'm fine, really. It's actually rather nice to see a cheerful pony around here." 

"That is kind of you to say, Sundance. Please, follow me to the garage. I'm sure that you're eager to be going." 



 

The hearse was sleek, black, and lozenge-shaped. It had two wheels near the middle, and support struts up near the front to keep it level. At first glance, it appeared to be made out of wood, but Sundance realised that only some of it was made from wood: the rest of it was some kind of lightweight metal, probably aluminium, which was then painted and textured to look like wood. It was streamlined for flight and black as Princess Luna's night, with brass trim. The tires looked plump and mostly new, as he could hardly see any signs of wear. 

"It has a Celestium-assisted weight reduction system," Sumac said as he began the pre-flight inspection. "Battery powered. Good for about four to six hours of flight time. Makes the hearse nice and light. Allows for smoother landings, but you still need to be careful, because the hearse will be bouncy. It is a system of my own design and was recently patented. I daresay that it will change the funeral industry as we know it. This trip should be mostly effortless." 

Wooden double-doors opened at the far end of the room and a young stallion entered. He was remarkably well groomed by any standard with not a single hair of his mane out of place, and his chestnut hide practically gleamed. Sundance failed to notice that he was even looking because he was so distracted. From Sumac, there came a soft sigh, one that sounded an awful lot like resignation, or the sound made when patience was tested. 

"Good morning, Mister Apple." 

"Yes, good morning, Mister Muscadine." 

"I did as you asked," the young stallion said. "The hearse is ready to go. Batteries are charged. Everything was packed, just as requested, and I made certain that the cooling system met regulations." 

Again, there was a soft sigh from Sumac. "Do you seek praise for doing your job, Mister Muscadine?" 

"Goodness no!" Suffering a total loss of composure, the young, well-groomed stallion's mouth fell open, his eyes widened, and he stood there, frozen in abject horror. 

"Then what do you need, Mister Muscadine?" 

"Um, well…" Now the young Mister Muscadine appeared more coltish as he cleared his throat and recovered his failed composure. "Sir, it is Miss Gladiolus." 

"Go on," Sumac deadpanned. 

"When will the young miss be transferred?" 

"Never," was Sumac's ear-flattening response. 

Ears now down, Muscadine averted his gaze to the floor. "But… sir… she's—" 

"Amazing at her job?" Sumac suggested. 

"Well, no, that wasn't what I was going to say, and I find she is rather—" 

"Willing to do all the horrible jobs that you think that you're too good for? I just sent her off to clean the drains." 

Sundance saw a visible shudder travel through Muscadine's body. 

"Here's what you are going to do, Mister Muscadine. You"—Sumac paused for a short time, and something about his demeanour changed drastically—"are going to take that nice young mare to lunch." 

"I beg your pardon, sir?" 

"You are going to ask her to lunch, and you… you are going to plant your flag. Work up the courage to ask her out, Muscadine. Stop being wishy-washy and hoping that the problem will just go away. It won't." 

"Sir?" 

"Gladiolus is a rare treasure, Muscadine." 

"Sir, we have nothing in common." 

"Is that so?" Sumac asked rhetorically. "She went to beauty school and became a cosmetologist. As I seem to recall, you went to beauty school and became a stylist. Both of you had trouble with living clients, did you not?" 

Gaze averted, Muscadine remained silent. 

"She talks to you in a way that she doesn't do with any other living creature, Muscadine." 

"I have trouble talking to the living," Muscadine blurted out. "Nothing makes sense. I can't make sense of them. Social cues make no sense. I am constantly putting my hoof in my mouth. She's here because she genuinely loves her job, and I'm here because I have nowhere else to go!" 

"Which is why you are going to take that nice young mare out to lunch, and you are going to let her help you sort your life out. Just let go and let things happen. Everything will be fine. You'll see. If you get scared, just go silent and still the way you do. She'll sort everything out." 

"But I—" 

"No buts, Mister Muscadine. Thank you for preparing the hearse. You did a fine job. Now go help Miss Gladiolus with the drains, will you? And ask her to lunch. Just… play dead and everything will sort itself out, I promise." 

Defeated, Muscadine bowed his head. "Very good, sir. I shall do as you ask, sir. The drains will be cleaned and made spotless, sir. And the young miss will be made aware that I wish to share my noontime repast with her." 

"Cheer up, Muscadine. It's not like you're attending your own funeral." 

"Oh, but I am, sir. She puns. It's dreadful." 

"Away with you, Mister Muscadine. I must be going. There's only so much daylight." 

The young stallion started to say something, but then didn't. He lingered in this state for a short time, but slowly, he recovered himself. First his ears pricked, then he stood up tall, and some starch returned to his posture. Sundance watched with curious interest as the transformation took place, and the young fellow looked a bit less coltish and more stallionish with each passing second. 

"Very well," Muscadine said at last. "I shall go and announce my intentions to Gladiatrix Gladiolus. I suppose that if she's not going to be sent away, I shall have to find some means of living with her. I bid you a good day." 

Then, without further ado, young Mister Muscadine trotted away and vanished through the wooden double-doors that he'd entered through. Thoughtful, distracted, Sundance watched the doors for a short time, and he wondered if it were really that simple. Love was waiting just around the corner, so it seemed, and yet he had nopony. The death of his grandmother was an excellent reminder that life was fragile, and without warning, could end with unexpected suddenness. 

"Do you think things will work out for them?" he asked Sumac. 

After a thoughtful pause, Sumac replied, "Maybe. They're both sad ponies, but one hides it better. Happiness is a funny thing, Sundance. It comes from the oddest, most unlikely sources." 

"I need to find me some happiness." 

"Perhaps I can help," Sumac offered. "Tell me about it while we fly to the barony…" 
> Pegasus legacy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hearse was curiously weightless, but still had drag. Not totally weightless, of course—Sundance could still feel the pull of the harness—but the deceptive featherlightness seemed so impossible that it messed around with his brain's ability to process it. It was spooky-light and as he flew, he wondered if such a system could somehow be installed upon the sky truck. Of course, his faithful sky truck wasn't at all streamlined; it was a square bed with sharp corners and no thought given to aerodynamic qualities, no doubt due to its military origins. 

In a crash, the sky truck would survive; the hearse would be matchsticks. 

He watched as the ground went rolling and racing by beneath him, like film on a projector. Flight was even more effortless than usual—so much so that he was in real danger of boredom. His eyelids felt heavy, his awareness was dulled, and a part of him desperately wanted a nap. The pain in his back kept him awake though, and the tightness of blasted skin was just enough of a shock to his senses that he maintained some of his awareness. 

"Twilight wanted me to talk to you about anomalies, but I don't know what to say, exactly," Sumac said as he flew in formation with Sundance. 

"Anomalies?" asked Sundance. 

"Yes, anomalies." As he flew, Sumac tucked his legs a little closer to his body. "Like the one you have. Or the one I have. We're meta-equines." 

"Skyla mentioned meta-creatures," Sundance said to the pony who flew beside him. 

"Yes, I suppose that is the prefered term now, because anomalies come in all species." There came a pause in Sumac's words, a moment of thoughtful silence, and when he continued, he did so with a somewhat raised voice so that he might be heard over the wind. "Magic is changing. Long ago, we had powerful wizards to protect us. But there were fewer ponies overall back then, so there was more magic. But now there are more ponies, and more creatures, all of whom draw upon a finite resource of magic. There's only so much to go around. So the nature of magical manifestations has changed. 

"Instead of wizards doing everything well as a means to counter supernatural threats, individuals with subtle but powerful talents and magical gifts exist. Most of them can only do one thing, but they do that one thing so well that sometimes, they bust reality. Me, I have grift magic and I'm a sorcerer. My grift magic is far more powerful than my knack for sorcery. Rainbow Dash, the fastest pony alive, has speed magic, but so much more. She can fade into the astral plane. It's hard to explain, but she can make her body a little less than real in this plane of existence, this realm, and when she is in her less than solid state, she can absolutely shatter the known laws of reality. Rainbow can bend and warp time. She can fly so fast that she becomes a quantum organism and can be in multiple places all at once. Rainbow Dash might very well be the most powerful pegasus that has ever lived." 

With no good response at the ready, Sundance chose to listen. 

"Twilight believes that every anomaly exists to counter a specific threat. Not just common threats, day to day stuff, but big threats. Like, end all life sort of threats. This is a hotly debated subject. There are some weird meta-creatures that would only be useful against very strange, very specific threats. Then there are those like you. Absolute resistance to fear would be useful in quite a number of situations." 

"Why tell me all of this?" asked Sundance. 

"So you are aware of it," replied Sumac. "We meta-equines are the future. Some say we're the next step in evolution. Our evolution was planned… well, everything that brought us to this point. We were able to survive because of what we had. But these meta-magics, these weren't part of our blueprint. This is us adapting to the world as it is, as it changes. You have a powerful gift… one that could do much for your barony… and for Equestria at large. The world, even. I guess you could say that Twilight wanted me to broaden your horizons." 

"So there might come a time, a crisis… when everypony is frozen with fear and I'm the only pony who might be able to do something?" 

"Maybe, Sundance. That is Twilight's opinion." 

"But what could I do?" he asked as he shook his head. "I'm just a pegasus. I couldn't fight some world ending monster. I don't have magic. How do I fight a threat like that?" 

"At least you'd be able to fight, Sundance. That's the point. That is what matters." 

"But I don't see it being useful." 

"All that matters is that we fight… and never give up. At least, that's the lesson I've learned. I grew up with other meta-equines. We fancied ourselves superheroes as foals. Some of us grew up and chose different lives." There was something of a sigh, but it was lost in the wind. "But some of us embraced what we pretended to be. Well, pretend is the wrong word. What we played at? When I was younger, I was Professor Egghead. But as I grew older, that sounded silly. I guess I distanced myself… but some of my friends, some of the Wipe-Outs, they embraced what they were. Found purpose and meaning in it. Me… I'm an undertaker. A mortician. Really, that's all I need to be. It makes me happy." 

"Skyla mentioned the Wipe-Outs." 

"We wanted to be like our big heroes in the comic books that we all loved," Sumac said with more than a little wistfulness to be heard in his voice. "For me, I reached a point where I could no longer be a mild-mannered undertaker by day, and Professor Egghead by night. There came a day when I had to pick one or the other. It was a hard choice. Flurry embraced the night. She embraced the night and we both chose very different lives. Boomer and Megara, they lead night and day lives. They try to have both… though it pains me to say it, they have little of either. But they're happy with their choice, so I am happy for them." 

"Why couldn't you have both?" asked Sundance. 

"Because," Sumac said with a great deal of hardness in his voice, "somepony in my profession can't show up for work with black eyes and a body covered in bandages. I can't get myself to work with my wing in a sling and a leg in a cast. I have to be the embodiment of comfort and refinement, which I can't be if I'm all busted up. Ponies are grieving their loved ones when they meet me, so I have to be as nondescript as possible. Nothing about me can stand out. Nothing about my appearance must call attention to itself. I can't have ponies worried about my black eye when they should be thinking about the dearly departed." 

These words gave Sundance ideas, and he thought about his public image. He needed a public image… so what if he had some say in it? What if he took a more active role in it? He was already a subject of conversation on the radio, and a headline in the papers. But what if he was a baron with black eyes? He thought of the bandits to the north, of the monsters roaming his lands, and thought of the opportunity that they presented. 

He thought of the armed ponies of Canterlot and how the image of the nobles had begun to change. As a baron, how was he seen? How did he want to be seen? His lands were some of the wildest and most dangerous lands in all of Equestria, and while that might be considered a detriment, he saw opportunity. But he knew nothing of fighting. Nothing at all. But he knew ponies that knew how to fight, and surely, they could teach. 

They could teach and he would learn. 

"We're almost home," he told his companion as his thoughts turned to what could be done. It was better than thinking of his grandmother. She was gone—about to be buried—and he couldn't deal with it. He needed a distraction, any distraction, and this was as good as any. He would reinvent himself. An image wouldn't need to be crafted for him—he would make one for himself. 

An image that his grandmother would be proud of. 



 

Something was ahoof in the barony; there was an airship parked in the field. Not just any airship, but something sleek, shiny, and modern. A monobody design that didn't have an external lift nacelle. It was vaguely fishlike, almost bulbous, and gleamed in the summer sun. Beside it, planted in the grass was a purple flag with a snowflake, the emblem of the Crystal Empire. Two guardsponies stood on either side of it, and even from a great distance, Sundance could see how the two crystal pegasus ponies sparkled. 

It seemed he had visitors. 

"That's The Whiteout," Sumac said to Sundance. "Flurry named it. Part of the Crystal Empire Diplomatic Fleet. It has a sister ship called The Squall. I love the design! The Crystal Empire takes a wholly different design approach to both trains and airships." 

"I wonder, why are they here?" asked Sundance. 

"I have a feeling we'll find out," replied Sumac. "I think I'll drop in and say hello." 



 

Word spread fast and soon there was quite a crowd around the parked hearse. Sundance stood beside it, a sort of solemn honour guard, and he heard ponies speaking to one another in hushed whispers within the crowd. Even his visitors were present, all four of them. There was Sunburst, the Court Wizard of the Crystal Empire, and his apprentice, a young mare of extraordinary colour named Chartreuse. Bourgogne Blintz, Twilight's representative, was present, as well as Starlight Glimmer, who was also here on Twilight's behalf. 

Under Hollyhock's watchful eye, the gaggle of little ones picked wildflowers. 

"I knew Dawnrise Shimmer." Sauerkraut Pie's voice, always so hale and hearty, now sounded frail and creaky. "She left, when the other pegasus ponies did. Just flew away. Was a dark day when they left. Noonfire, you say? Dawnrise's daughter was named Noonfire?" 

"She was," replied Sundance. 

"She came back… why?" The old mare's nose crinkled, the sadness in her eyes intensified, and she shook her head from side to side as she stood there, otherwise unmoving. "Nopony's ever come back." 

"Paradox came back," Sundance said to Sauerkraut. "I did too. I can't pretend to know my grandmother's reasons, but she wanted to come home. This place was home. Even if she wasn't born here." 

"Like birds returning in spring," said Hoe Hum. 

"I never met Dawnrise," Sundance said to those around him. "She died before I was born. Pneumonia. My grandmother told me that her mother crowed like a rooster." 

"She did." There was a soft nod from Sauerkraut. "She'd stand up on yonder rock, above the waterfall, and she'd puff out until she was twice her size, and then she'd crow to greet the morning. Sometimes, after the sun had risen, and we'd start to work, she'd sing." 

"Yes," Hoe Hum said, "she'd sing. I was young, but I remember her songs. Gave me strength to work." 

"One day, the bird did not sing." Eggplant's voice quavered and the old stallion's eyes were glassy. He stood on creaky, wobbly knees that threatened to give way beneath him at any moment. "She took her younger sister, Nightfall Shimmer, and she flew away. The Milord was furious… one of our unicorns was gone. I remember his rage." 

"We all do," somepony in the crowd muttered. 

"She was gone, and so was her song," Eggplant said as he sat down suddenly in the grass. 

These words were almost enough to shatter Sundance's stony-faced facade, but he somehow held on. 



 

So many were present; it was an unexpected turnout. Sundance could not help but feel that Noonfire would be pleased by those present for her burial. Sumac had finished excavating a grave and rich black soil formed a smooth mound. Quite a crowd formed around the now-opened coffin, and many who had themselves a look saw the face of Noonfire's mother. Paradox stood among the crowd and seemed strangely subdued. It wasn't hard to guess why, as she and Noonfire were remarkably similar in appearance. 

Sniffling just a little, Paradox broke away from the crowd. With her ears down and her head held low, she beelined for Sundance. When she brushed up against him, he froze, not knowing how to react. He felt how she trembled, and dared not move for fear that she might bolt. She leaned up against him now—her weight against his side felt strange to him—and he had no idea how to comfort his cousin because he feared that he might scare her away. 

"Hold me," she whispered, "please." 

Slowly, and with much hesitation, he slipped a wing over her back, fearful of all the ways this could go wrong. Paradox shivered as if she were freezing, and there could be no doubt that she took this far harder than he did. Why though? What had her in such a state? He didn't know and he couldn't even begin to guess. When the tears came (and they came in a flood) she hid her face by turning into his neck. 

Hennessy moved among the crowd, offering calm reassurance to those in need. 

"Are we ready to begin?" asked Sumac. 

The gathered crowd went still and all eyes seemed to turn to Sundance. 

In a solemn voice of dignity, Sumac asked, "Sundance, do you have anything to say?" 

Nothing came to mind. Not a word. Self-conscious, self-aware, Sundance was painfully aware of his own silence, which seemed to gain strength with each second that passed. As the silence held sway, he felt his throat go tight and his mind raced to find suitable words. The summer wind stung his eyes and caused them to water. He wanted to wipe them, but he didn't dare move for fear of spooking Paradox, who seemed to be in a fragile state. 

Then, he thought of something to say. 

Perhaps it was the only thing that he could say, but he would say it. 

If only he could somehow swallow the lump in his throat so that he might speak. 

In a voice that was remarkably foalish and fragile, he said, "She's the reason I'm here with all of you. She started me on this path. You all have her to thank for what we all have now, what we share together… this life we have." 

With her head bowed, Sauerkraut Pie said, "Thank you, Noonfire." 

Another said, "Yes, thank you, Noonfire." 

"Thank you, Noonfire, for returning our wayward sons and daughters." 

"To the pegasus that remembered the way home." 

A flood of voices happened all at once, a torrent of words, and Sundance could not make them all out. But he could feel them; it was a mournful, yet happy sound, almost triumphant. It was a reminder that old bonds could not be severed, that old roots endured. Still as a statue, his eyes glazed with moisture, Sundance pondered these connections. He wished his mother and father were here to witness this, but he understood why they could not be. His mother (and his grandmother as well) had trusted him to get this done, and he had. 

Noonfire Shimmer had come home; tired and weary as she was, it was time for her to be put to bed. Bedtime was a special time for Noonfire. She was a plumper of pillows, a tucker of blankets, and a teller of stories—only some of which were tall tales. She had once told him that everything begins and ends in a bed. As a foal, he had no understanding of these words, but he liked to think that he understood them now. Foals were made in a bed—at least most of the time. It was the reasonable place to make them. And, if all went right and circumstances were kind, life ended in a bed. 

His expression solemn, Sumac closed the open coffin,  lifted it up out of the open hearse, aligned it north and south just so, and then slowly—ever so slowly—he lowered it down into the yawning earth. A final place of rest. But Sundance wasn't ready for bedtime, and it pained him so. His grandmother had no pillows, no blankets, no means to make a nest. A wooden box had little comfort. 

The ground swallowed her whole. 



 

"Sundance, it's time for bed." 

"Do I hafta?" 

"Yes, you do." 

"But I wanted to say goodnight to my mom." 

"She's working a double-shift." 

"Aw po—" 

"Don't you say it, you little goof. Get in the bed." 

"Will you tell me a story?" 

"Have I ever told you about the first pegasus?" 

"No." 

The bedsprings creaked. 

"Once upon a time, there was a pony named Reckless. He was true to his namesake. His heart was full of courage, and he lived by his wits and bravery. A mighty warrior he was, and long was his shadow upon the ground. One day, he decided that he would steal the sun, and he would put it in a jar so that ponies would have fire, a way to turn back the dark. There were only ponies back then… no pegasus ponies or unicorn ponies, just ponies." 

The pillow was plumped and the blankets stretched tight as his grandmother sat down upon the edge of the bed. Little Sundance waited for the story to continue, though the magic was already working. As much as he did not wish to be, he was sleepy, and he failed to stop an escaping yawn. But as sleepy as he was, as tired as he might be, he'd already decided that he wanted to be Reckless when he grew up. It sounded like a good time waiting to be had. 

"Reckless had no way to reach the sun, so he set off on a journey so that he might find his way. He faced many dangers, fought many battles, and braved many perils. All of these are stories in their own right, and would be long in the telling. Reckless crossed the ocean, it is said, with the help of a tricky talking spider who promised to help him steal the sun. 

"Lost in a strange land, a savage land full of monsters, Reckless met a zebra. Not just any zebra, but a zebra that knew the spider. She was impressed that Reckless somehow survived his journey and had crossed the ocean. This enchantress offered Reckless the means to steal the sun in the form of a magic potion, given to him in a gourd. 

"Reckless, who never thought about anything, he only did things, he acted, he drank the potion down. It changed him profoundly, and he endured a terrible transformation. He got the wings he wanted, but at such a cost. The wind carried his pained cries all the way back home and his tribe heard his howling from all the way across the waters." 

The blankets were pulled up and tucked just beneath Sundance's chin. 

"With his new wings, Reckless could fly, and he was given a magic jar so that he might capture the sun. It was made of fine glass, and the lid was made of wood from some sacred tree. So armed, Reckless set off on yet another journey, this time to the land of sky. Up and up he flew, into the clouds, into the blue. Up here, there were dragons, and griffons, and all manner of terrible beasts. He had to be careful, he had to be sneaky, and he snuck from cloud to cloud. 

"Reckless was a clever pony. Though born of the earth, he took to the clouds like a fish to water. Such was his determination, his drive, that he never stopped. He was a tiny pony in a big sky, one full of monsters. These were wild times, a time when dragons and griffons were not tamed, and they ate little ponies, who lived on the ground. Which was why Reckless had to steal the sun. If his tribe controlled the sun and had its fire, they could be safe. They would have a future." 

Little Sundance, snug in bed, yawned and wondered if he could fly to the sun. 

"Curiously enough, as Reckless flew higher, it grew colder. The air grew thin, and he had trouble drawing breath. But he would not be turned back. Onward he pressed, too stubborn to quit, too stupid to turn back. No matter how high he flew, the sun seemed just out of reach. Yet, he would not quit. There were no clouds now, not much of anything, and there were no dragons or griffons either. Just emptiness and a sun that was frustratingly out of reach. 

"Reckless would not be denied. His stout heart drove him ever onward, and he knew, he knew that if he wanted to catch the sun, he would need a burst of speed. He summoned all of his courage, all of his wit, and all of his gumption, and he willed himself to go faster. 

"This was the first rainboom, and it split the sky asunder. It tore the heavens open and all the creatures down below saw this rainboom. The torn sky rained, and new magic poured down upon the world. So touched by new magic, many creatures changed, and some say that this is when unicorns came into being. They were the silly ponies that tried to catch the strange raindrops with their tongues. 

"Reckless reached the sun at last. It was a tiny thing, not much bigger than an orange, but fiery and bright. Acting quick, still infused with speed, he popped it into his magic jar before it could burn him. But the moment he did, his wings vanished, and he was all the way up there at the top of the world. With no wings. So down he fell. Down, down, down. But he held on to his prize, the sun trapped in a jar, and he hoped that somehow, he might return it to his tribe if he survived his fall. 

Eyelids heavy, little Sundance struggled to stay awake now, and he just had to know how this ended. 

"The fall was a long one. Why, Reckless fell for what felt like forever. He fell for seven days, it is said, which is why we have seven days now. He did not let go of the sun, nor did he sleep, and hunger gnawed at his belly. His thirst grew great. But he had time to think about his actions, and what he had done. He had time to think of his journeys, his travels, and the creatures he had met. 

"But mostly, he thought of home, and he wondered if he would ever return there. It was important to return home after a long journey, he decided. How else would they know his story? For his story to survive, he had to return home. But first he had to return to the ground, and that was a long way down. 

"He landed in a spiderweb, unharmed, and whole of body. The sky above him was dark, and he held the sun in his hooves. All around him, the world had gone dark, and being a pony, a creature connected to the land, he could feel the sickness of the soil. The land was dying. He felt this slow death, and was sad. The tricky spider freed him from the web, but then trapped him, wrapped him up in webbing, and dragged him and the sun back to the zebra. 

"But the zebra was no zebra. The wily enchantress was Celestia herself, the owner of the sun, and she was in a poor mood after her prize was pilfered. Reckless had stolen something that belonged to her, and he had thrown the whole world out of balance. He had stolen her power, her mojo. Reckless had done the impossible, and with a grin true to his namesake, he held up his prize to show it to her." 

Yet another yawn escaped Sundance. 

"Needless to say, the Sun Goddess was a bit cross. She took back her sun, and she tried to toss it back up into the sky, but it would not stay. Again and again she tried, but the sun was broken, and refused to hang in the sky as it once did. When the sun would not stay, she had her spider friend try to make it stick, but the spider burned his tiny, hairy feet and his webbing did not survive the efforts. 

"Reckless wasn't supposed to be able to steal the sun; it was supposed to be unfetchable. An impossible action. But fetch it he did, much to Celestia's vexation. To make things right, she changed his name to Hubris, wove him a harness made from magical spider silk that she herself enchanted, and she tasked him with pulling the sun across the sky. Forever. He broke it, so he had to fix it. To help him in his task, she made him a harem of mares from the clouds. Some she made from puffy clouds that were beautiful, and others, she crafted from angry thunderheads. Before his banishment, she restored his wings once more, and then she cursed him so that his hooves might never know the feeling of cool, moist earth. 

"But before she sent him away, she laid upon him one final curse: his offspring would inherit his pride. Every pegasus would be prideful. Every pegasus would bear the traits their founder was named for: recklessness and hubris, for such would be our shared burden till the end of all time." 

This time, some words escaped with his yawn: "Is this story true?" 

His grandmother, who leaned over him, and caused the blanket to smoosh him into the mattress, rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter if it's true." 

"It doesn't?" 

"Every myth, every legend, has a grain of truth to them. But that truth don't matter. What matters is, the questions we ask, and the lessons we learn. This is why we have legends and myths. They are lessons from the past. A story that teaches. The sun was supposed to be some unreachable object, a thing forbidden, something we were never meant to have. This story could mean anything, Sundance. But we should be careful of what we want and what we do to get it, because we might just get exactly what we want, and the consequences that go with it." 

"Oh." 

The tiny colt felt the blankets almost crush him into goo as his grandmother leaned over to kiss him. He wondered if there were other meanings to this story—surely there had to be—but he would have to think about them tomorrow, because he was way too sleepy right now. A warm kiss was planted on his head, right above his eye, and then the delightful tension of the blankets eased as his grandmother sat up. 



 

Awareness struck him quite suddenly but the memory persisted. Sundance could almost feel the flannel sheets, which were worn thin from far too many washings. His grandmother would tuck them as tight as possible, and it was then, and only then that he felt safe and secure in bed. His ears pricked, pivoted, and he would almost hear the hiss of the old radiator, which sometimes scared him when he woke up in the middle of the night. 

How many times had he come running out of the kitchen, tried and failed to make the turn in the living room, and skidded butt-first right into the sizzling hot radiator? Once, he showed his mother his blistered bottom, and he asked her to kiss it and make it better. His father and grandmother laughed—he remembered the sound so vividly that he could almost hear it right now—but his mother didn't laugh. 

She'd just gotten off work and was covered in bandages. Officer Mom had booboos of her own. He recalled how she'd scooped him up off the floor, held him, and he remembered how she smelled: coppery. Like the sound of laughter, the stench of salty copper was so real that it almost made him gag. The crinkle of bandages was far too real in his ears. As a colt, he had no idea what that smell was, but he knew it now. In fact, he knew it all too well. 

There were far too many times his mother came home in bandages, and reeking of copper. 

More memories surfaced; they came so suddenly and in such numbers that they threatened to overwhelm him. He fought against the rising tide, but the incoming wave proved too much. When it broke over him, it left him with wet eyes and a soaked face. His grandmother was gone, and once the soil covered her, he would never see her again. No more stories or tight-tucked blankets. 

Wherever Hubris might be, one of his descendants was now returned to the earth from whence they came. 
> Seeking reason
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ponyville. The flight here barely registered as a memory and everything blurred together. Sundance took a moment to try and sort out his thoughts, but failed to do so. How long ago was his grandmother committed back to the earth? Events lacked a distinct timeline. Breakfast this morning seemed as though it might have been a year ago. Just remembering what he'd eaten took a great deal of effort and the only thing that stood out was the bitterness in the lime marmalade. 

"This is the post office," he said as he looked up at the sign. 

"It is," Sumac replied. "Ponyville keeps its hearses in the post office garage." 

"Oh." Senses dulled, Sundance stared up at the sign and studied the letters, though why he did this was unknown to him. 

"Tell me, Sundance… are you a fan of the post office?" 

The question barely registered and Sundance replied, "Oh, I don't know. I guess?" 

"Sundance… grief is a skill." After he moved a step closer, Sumac adjusted his glasses and wrapped one wing around Sundance's neck. "It is a skill, just like dancing, baking, or making music. Nopony is born with the knowledge of how to grieve. If life has any meaning at all, any purpose beyond mere existence, it is learning how to grieve and how to cope with grief." 

In response, Sundance said nothing. 

"I lost my grandmother at an early age. We had a complicated relationship that I didn't understand. She was troubled, my grandmother. Even though we didn't know each other very well, her death had a profound impact on me. Not just because of how I felt about it, but because of what my mother, Trixie went through. For me, that was the beginning. Other deaths happened later. I had no choice but to sort them out and learn to live with them. And you, my friend, you must learn to do the same." 

"I'll be fine—" 

"No, you won't." As these words were said, Sumac leaned in until he was almost nose-to-nose with Sundance. "You're practically in a fugue state." 

"I just need some time to clear my head." 

Ears pricked, jaw muscles tight, Sumac shook his head from side to side. 

"Look, I'm fine, really." 

"Where are we now, Sundance, and what are we doing?" 

"The uh, the morgue. We're putting away the hearse." 

Almost frowning, Sumac pulled his wing away from Sundance's neck and then folded it against his side. After he leveled out his spectacles on his nose, he tilted his head to one side and said, "We're at the post office." 

"Oh, that's right." It occured to Sundance that something might actually be wrong, though a part of him didn't want to believe it. "I'm just a little out of sorts. Surely that's understandable." 

When Sumac spoke again, his voice was muted and quite soft. "Death changes us. Grief changes us. We all have to come to terms with that, Sundance. Somehow, we have to live with the fact that everpony that we love and cherish, they will die. Beyond that, we will die. That is the great shared struggle, something that we all have in common. It can be difficult to make friends and love others with the shadowy spectre of death looming over us all. The knowledge that we might lose what we hold dear can make it hard to develop meaningful attachments." 

Turning away, Sundance allowed himself a slight sigh. 

"Like I said, nopony is born knowing how to cope with all of this. It is something that we learn. Some of us learn the hard way, by ourselves, on our own, and in the process, maybe we pick up a few bad habits. Maybe we grow cold and distant. Or we might wallow in our own depression. Some of us pretend as though nothing is wrong, and we bury ourselves in our work… which is how I dealt with my troubles when I was younger and didn't know better. But a few of us are lucky, and we have a friend or a loved one that helps us sort things out." 

Reluctantly, Sundance nodded. "Once I get home, I'll be surrounded by friends. All of this will get sorted out. I'll be fine." 

"Uh-huh." Behind the green glass of his round spectacles, Sumac squinted. 

"I'm just holding myself together until I have the time to fall apart." 

"Sure. That seems reasonable." Lacking any sort of discernable emotion, Sumac's voice was a flat deadpan. "Come on, Sundance. We'll get a drink and then I'll fly you home. I'll also be telling Corduroy about your current condition." 

"Oh, come on." A rising sense of panic could be felt and a part of Sundance wanted to bolt, to fly away as fast as he possibly could. "Is that really necessary? Can't I just sort this out on my own, in my own way?" 

"No," Sumac replied, "because I don't trust you to do it. Now let's go get a drink. Dehydration can only make things worse. Care for an apple soda?" 

Sundance took a moment to consider before he responded, "Sure. I guess. That sounds fine." 



 

It was a sweltering summer day in Ponyville, and the world outside the window moved at a sedate pace. The ceiling fan overhead had a rhythmic squeak that was just starting to annoy Sundance, but at least he felt something. Ponies stood on the train station platform; some fanned themselves while others took refuge beneath fashionable parasols. A part of Sundance resented how life went on when he really wished that the world would slow down so that he might catch his breath. 

Everything was a blur of paperwork, burnt spiders, and flooded bunnies. 

A mare with a crying foal did everything she could to shush him. Behind the counter, a unicorn watched the mare comforting her foal with bored disinterest. There was a filly who examined a magazine rack, but she seemed disappointed, as if she couldn't find her heart's desire. Two ponies—one of them a pegasus mare with a parasol cutie mark and the other an earth pony stallion with a dirt-encrusted shovel—shared an enormous milkshake together. The glass over the ice cream display was translucent with frosty fog. A poster with bright, fresh ink promised a one-hundred bit bonus for new enlistees and was emblazoned with a saluting pegasus who wore his diced glengarry at a jaunty angle. 

Sundance failed to notice all of this. 

"I'd like to fall in love," Sundance said, almost mumbling these words through lips that felt too thick, too heavy. "I'd like for life to make sense. To have some reason to endure all of this, and to give everything that has happened some meaning. I suppose I want the pain of loss to be tempered… is tempered the right word? I don't even know. But I want the pain of loss to be tempered by what you have to gain. Maybe I'm selfish, or wrong, but I'd like to have some sort of reward for trying to sort through all of this. Not just my grandmother's death, but everything. I feel like I'm due a cookie." 

"I could get you a cookie," Sumac offered. 

This almost made Sundance smile, but as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, his thoughtful frown asserted itself and would not relinquish its existence. Head bowed, he looked down at his bottle of apple soda and much to his surprise, it was already half empty. Or maybe it was half full. At the moment, it was exceedingly difficult to tell the difference. There was far too much glass and not enough soda to fill it. 

"If you don't mind me saying, you seem a bit young to be in charge of the morgue." 

A dry chuckle could be heard from Sumac, who held up his bottle and tilted it around, all the while watching how the liquid within flowed around. "I'm not in charge. But I am established. The old fogeys don't much care for the interns. As is so often the case, they've developed a shortage of patience for the living. So I am the designated intern-wrangler. Which I suppose offers the illusion that I'm in charge." 

"You have a nice office though." 

This made Sumac shrug. "I've worked very hard to earn it. My reward for sticking everything out, I suppose. My cookie." 

"I worked my tail off in the city, and got nothing in return. Just a struggle to keep my head above water. My grandmother also worked hard. She got an early grave. Then there's my mother, who is the hardest working pony I know. Right now, she's forced to work shift-and-halfs, and I doubt she'll get anything for it other than dying a little younger than she might've otherwise. As for my dad, he just keeps his head down and doesn't complain. But he works hard too." Eyes narrowed, Sundance looked up at Sumac, who sat across the table. "Doesn't feel very fair." 

"No, it doesn't," Sumac agreed whilst eye-contact was maintained. 

"Would it be so terrible if things just made sense?" asked Sundance in a whisper almost guttural with sudden, unrepressed ferocity. Surprised by his own anger, which warmed his dull, numbed senses, he sat up straight and gripped his soda bottle in his fetlock. A few hard squeezes calmed him, but the anger remained, a white-hot coal that promised to ignite any fuel offered. 

He found Sumac's silence infuriating, and it was a struggle to hold everything in. 

Lower lip quivering, his eyelids twitching, and his sinuses ablaze with sudden terrific pressure, the sort that made his eyes water, Sundance fought to keep his composure. "I used to love the city. It was all I knew. Bricks and cobblestones. Concrete, steel, and glass. The sounds… the sounds… the rumble of the elevated train that runs above the streets. My grandmother was the one who taught me that it wasn't good for me to stick out my tongue to catch the black snowflakes that fell as the choo-choo passed overhead." 

One ear—his right—went rigid, while the other went limp. 

He used to race beneath those rusty iron arches that held the elevated train above the streets. Up and down the narrow urban canyons he flew at breakneck speeds, sometimes trying to race the train as he flew beneath it. All the buildings shook, windows rattled, and conversations would be interrupted as the train went by. Every car on the train would be packed with ponies who could not fly—and maybe a few that could—and they would be transported across the city to go from the residential district to the industrial parks. 

Industrial parks were a mystery to him, and he failed to understand how or why they were parks. 

"My love has since turned to this sort of hatred that I don't understand," he said to Sumac as his fury transitioned into something else, something that threatened to bust open the floodgates and let loose a torrent. "My grandmother's death just makes it worse. It just feels so… so… so—" 

"Senseless?" Sumac suggested. 

"Maybe?" This response was accompanied by a full body shrug that made Sundance lift both his forelegs and his wings. "Is there something beyond senseless? My grandmother was poisoned by mercury while making hats that she could never afford. She made fancy finery for the wealthy and well-to-do. Her life was made short so they could have their excess, and I'm… I'm… I'm—" 

"Pissed about it?" Behind his round eyeglasses, Sumac's eyes narrowed. 

"Well beyond pissed," Sundance said. "There's just no good way to describe it." 

There was a faint nod from Sumac to show that he listened. 

"I want all of this to mean something," Sundance said, almost whining. "I want my grandmother's life to have meant something… and right now, all I can think about is how my grandmother's very existence allowed high society mares to be fashionable. And it just… eats me up inside." 

"It's good that you're getting this out." 

This gave Sundance pause, and after a moment lost to thoughtfulness, he replied, "It is? Because this feels like poison. I feel sick to my stomach. All of this feels absolutely wretched." 

"Would be worse if you held it in." 

"My dad told me not to complain." Sundance's gaze fell down to the shiny surface of the formica tabletop and the gleaming chrome trim along the rounded, beveled edge. "He never said much, my dad. So when he did say something, it was hard not to listen. My words feel jumbled somehow. He was a quiet sort, so when he spoke, his words had… they had a certain weight to them. And my dad seemed fond of telling me that I shouldn't complain, because it made me less of a pony. Here I am, complaining. That's what I'm doing. And I feel so conflicted about it. I'm not making the best of a crappy situation, I'm complaining. I feel guilty." 

"Well, don't feel that way," Sumac suggested in warm, supportive tones. 

"I can't help it, though. It's just there." 

"Well, you need to change the way you think," said Sumac, whose tone changed to something a bit more firm. "Get mad if you have to. Complain if you need to. The reason why nothing ever changes is because nopony wants to complain. We're taught to follow the herd and don't cause trouble." 

"Yeah." Sundance breathed out his agreement and then sucked in a deep breath to fill his lungs with much-needed air. Where did all of his anger go? A curious, unpleasant numbness had overcome his heart, his barrel, and he was fearful that he might suffocate. A part of him desperately wanted to lie down and take a nap. To shut out the world. 

His brief moment of hot fury was gone, and replaced by the cold creep. All of his limbs seemed heavy again, and fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. His neck ached from the heaviness of his own head and for the first time he noticed how his jaw throbbed from clenched teeth. All of the fight was gone, his motivation, his upset. It was almost a relief to go numb again, but a quiet voice in the back of his mind protested. 

"I want to go home…" 
> Memorial
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Home. It was good to be home, and there could be no denying it, this place was home. With his grandmother now interred in the ground here, something had changed—though Sundance couldn't possibly say what it was. He stood by his grandmother's grave, which was covered with wildflowers. A headstone would soon be made, but for now, the wildflowers would do just fine. 

The first hints of a hooligan headache throbbed just behind his ears. 

Lifting his head, he looked about. There was much to do. He had business with the Crystal Empire. Before he'd departed, Sumac had a long talk with Corduroy, and Sundance dreaded the outcome. There were still rabbits to deal with and paperwork that had to be done, because such was the nature of paperwork. Of course, the idea of losing himself in paperwork was somehow reassuring, comforting even. Whole hours would pass and his mind would stay blessedly blank, if he were lucky. 

Still looking about, his vision blurry, he said to his grandmother, "You told me that we were lords and ladies here. That we had a noble legacy. And maybe we do. Maybe we do. If you were here with me right now, I'd ask you if this were true… but I already know what you would tell me. It doesn't matter if it is true. I suppose this is a case of me asking the right questions and what I learn from all of this. Maybe we really were lords and ladies here… but maybe we fell on hard times. Or maybe this is the myth of our bloodline. Maybe the sun was supposed to be some unreachable object. 

"But I persisted. I kept at it. I pushed and I pushed, and I kept going when any sane pony would have quit. I did the equivalent of the rainboom, only with ink and paper. I didn't steal the sun though. I dropped in to say hello… and she did this to me. She did this to me and nothing can ever be the same. And you… you… you were the tricky spider that sent me off in search of my zebra. I have no idea where I'm going with this, but what I am trying to say is, this is all your fault. 

"Princess Celestia slipped a harness on me and now I'm stuck pulling the sun. I am bound to this land in ways I do not understand. The worst part of all of this is that I didn't get my harem of mares. There are worse fates, I suppose. Wherever you might be, I hope you find all this funny. Have a laugh, I don't mind. I got caught up in your web. Were I a smarter pony, I might have seen it coming with how you used to tuck me into bed. But I'm a magical moron. How am I supposed to tell Officer Mom that I'm a magical moron?" 

A long deep breath did nothing to help him feel better. 

He tried again, then again, and when he did so a third time, he was almost overcome with dizziness. The dastardly hooligan headache now ached like a sore tooth doused in ice water and Sundance arrived at the conclusion that he had nothing left to say—at least for now. It wasn't like his grandmother was going anywhere, so he could come and chat with her at any time. This was not at all comforting. 

Head down low, he strode off in search of a cuppa. 



 

Chartreuse was a screaming yellowish-green pony that Sundance couldn't get a good look at because looking directly at her was like staring into the sun. As such, it was impossible for him to determine if she were attractive or not. The only detail that he could discern was that she was young, wore glasses, and she went about her business while wearing a tall pointed hat. Her ability to make tea seemed extraordinary; she did so without looking and seemingly without effort. The sheer ease with which she accomplished her task made it seem it was as second nature to her as breathing, and Sundance was, even in his distracted state of grief, quite impressed by what he saw. 

"Really, Miss… we should be serving you. You're a guest—" 

"Oh, poppycock," the fluorescent eyesore sighed. "You want to know a lord or lady, you serve them tea. My Master, Shining Armor, has me serve tea to all sorts of starchy dignitaries and I study their actions and reactions. My observations sometimes give me the upper hoof in our negotiations. There's much to be learned about a creature when you study how they treat the help." 

"Oh… oh…" Suddenly nervous, Sundance began to wonder what Chartreuse had picked up about him. 

"The truth is, I like serving tea. Find it calming. The fact that it gives me a distinct advantage is just… well, a bit like a reward for a job well done." She flashed a brilliant smile that was nowhere near bright enough to overcome the eye-searing illuminosity of her hide. 

"I wish we'd met under better circumstances," he said to her with full self-conscious awareness of every word spoken. "Not myself at the moment." 

"These are the circumstances under which we have met though," she replied as she poured boiling water into a brown earthenware pot. "The world does not slow down for ponies such as us. Never once are we guaranteed favourable circumstances. Yet, here we are, and we are expected to make the most out of what we've been given to work with." 

"I suppose there are detailed files about me…"

"Oh, indeed." 

"And I know next to nothing about you." 

"Well, whose fault is that, really? Send out competent delegates and envoys and begin making files of your own." Though her tone was teasing, there was a refreshing honesty about it. "Like it or not, we're stuck playing the Great Game, for such is our lot in life. So long as you don't play against Princess Celestia, there's no real winners and losers." She paused for a second, her lips pursed tight, and her head shook from side to side. "Prince Blueblood is dangerous to back into a corner as well, I'd watch out for that one if I were you. Though if he didn't like you, you'd know it by now. He tends to remove unworthy pieces from the game board or he hobbles their ability to play." 

Almost smiling, she began to set out cups and a plate of sandwiches that Sundance did not recognise. The bread was curiously orangish and there was some kind of white goo squished in between. It was nice to be distracted from his thoughts about his grandmother, but it was even nicer to have tea with a truly intriguing pony. Chartreuse was strange perhaps, but there was something appealing about her forthright chattiness. 

The smell of tea left to steep was soothing to the soul. 

When the door opened, Sundance was almost startled by it, for such was his state of distraction. Two ponies entered; Sunburst stood off to one side and with a gesture, waved Bourgogne Blintz to enter before him. She did so with a headbob of appreciation, and once she'd passed through the door, Sunburst followed. As for Sundance, who watched all of this happen, he could not help but feel that city ponies might have done all of this quite differently. 

Or maybe he was just in a mood. 

"Your earth ponies think fondly of you," Bourgogne said to Sundance as she sat down on the floor beside the low table. "I've spent the day speaking to them and they have nothing but good things to say about you. At first, I thought it flattery, but the sincerity was too real to deny." 

Unable to respond, Sundance watched as Sunburst also sat down. 

"How are you doing, Sundance?" asked Sunburst. 

"I'm managing, I guess?" he replied without much thought. "So you are here to discuss the land." 

"Well, we don't have to do that right now," Sunburst replied. "We could just have tea." 

Sundance, who longed for a distraction, drew in a deep breath. For a short time, he studied Sunburst, who bore more than a little passing resemblance to both he and Paradox. A whole herd of thoughts crossed his mind, all of which he paid little attention, and he allowed his gaze to fall down into his empty teacup. The silence proved unbearable to him, and he was quick to drive it away. 

"I offered the Crystal Empire a parcel of land." Since there was no speech prepared, Sundance knew he had to wing it, so wing it he did. "As much land is needed for you to construct a… well, whatever it is that you plan to construct. We'll just call it a hospital for the sake of keeping things simple." 

"I took the proposal and turned it into a presentation for my master, Shining Armor." 

With a turn of his head, Sundance glanced over at Chartreuse. 

"It was a generous offer," the young mare said as she tapped the edge of her iron-shod hoof against the earthenware teapot. "Rent free. As much land as needed. The proposal came at such an opportune time, as my master was trying to find some means of building a facility closer to Canterlot. A location in central Equestria." 

Ears tall, Sundance listened intently, and was thankful for something to keep his mind occupied. 

"Cadance wasn't too keen on the free-of-rent aspect," Sunburst said to Sundance. "She feared that it might seem exploitive somehow. We have so much in the Crystal Empire, and you have so little. There is a matter of how the public might see it. I mean, after all, it would be counterproductive to both of our shared interests if we caused a public relations fiasco." 

When he saw the wisdom in this, Sundance nodded. 

"The Crystal Empire wishes to build a hospital, a recovery ward, and an asylum—" 

"Not a horrible scary mental asylum," Chartreuse said, interrupting Sunburst. "But more of a place of healing for those injured by the horrors of war. A quiet place to restore the mind." 

Eyebrow raised, Sunburst cast a sidelong glance at his apprentice as he nodded. 

"We were going to build this facility in Ponyville," Chartreuse continued after she sent an aware nod in Sunburst's direction. "But Ponyville is not a quiet place. Too many things happen in Ponyville. What we wanted was isolation. Wilderness. We need a lot of room to build a one-thousand bed facility, and that's just the hospital. The other wings would also be quite sizable, though the final plans have not yet been finalised." 

"In exchange for this land grant," Sunburst said, taking over, "we are prepared to offer you and yours the finest healthcare that the Crystal Empire has to offer. We will build an additional wing and have a section of the campus dedicated to the care of your residents. And we will offer this in perpetuity. No matter how large your barony might grow, we will provide. Even expanding the facilities themselves if that becomes necessary. We believe that this is a fair trade." 

It took Sundance a moment to wrap his mind around this. 

"We need a military hospital and a place for therapy. You need healthcare for your residents. Together, we can provide for one another's needs. And should you be amicable to expanding our deal, the Crystal Empire seeks a place for a research hospital. For this, we are willing to pay substantial sums of money. The isolation that your territory provides is a unique asset." 

Sundance saw his reflection in Sunburst's glasses. 

"The research hospital is Cadance's pet project. It might be her most ambitious plan." Sunburst leaned over the table and lowered his voice. "She needs a location that offers extreme isolation. Now, both of these facilities will need to be staffed. To that end, the Crystal Empire is prepared to have your residents educated and trained. We'll need everything from groundskeepers to doctors. We at the Crystal Empire wish for this to benefit us both." 

"All of this is quite overwhelming," Sundance said. "But I think we can come to an understanding. I have a condition though… a favour, I guess? There is something I want." 

Chartreuse nodded, and replied, "You have but to ask." 

"I want the wing dedicated to the care of the barony named after my grandmother, Noonfire Shimmer. Without her, I doubt we'd be here right now, having this conversation." 

The sound of pouring water caused Sundance to shiver. Such a pleasant sound, that of tea poured into a cup. He closed his eyes, listened for a short time, and when he opened his eyes again, there was a cup of steaming tea in front of him. The second cup was placed in front of Bourgogne Blintz, who sat in contemplative silence. Sunburst accepted his cup with a nod of appreciation, and Chartreuse served herself last. 

Though not the smartest pony, Sundance understood the need for extreme isolation when it came to a research hospital. Sure, he knew nothing about medicine—other than he used to deliver it—but he did understand that experimental cures had some risks, the sort of risks that one did not want in a city crowded with ponies. Then there were infectious diseases and plagues and the like. His land had an abundance of nothing stretching in all directions, and all that nothing could be put to good use. 

"Keep in mind, all of this is just the informal proposal over tea and sandwiches." Sunburst, distracted, held out his hoof and gestured at the sandwiches. "Sweet potato bread. Delicious. And marshmallow fluff. You should try one. Starlight's favourite." 

"Speaking of Starlight, where is she? Shouldn't she be here with us?" For the first time, Sundance noticed that one visitor was missing. 

"As just so happens," Chartreuse replied, "your barony lacks a crane. Starlight is doing a little heavy lifting to help out. I wouldn't worry, she'll be with us when we gather for a more formal proposal." 

"Wait, why would I need a crane?" asked Sundance. 

"I have no idea." Sunburst shrugged. "But Starlight is a perfectly acceptable substitute…" 
> Offended nurse? What could be worse?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The world had finally slowed down enough for Sundance to relax, and with his hooligan headache gone, relax he did. He floated in a somewhat duck-like manner in the basin pool at the base of the waterfall whilst he squinted to keep the late afternoon sun out of his eyes. The water was warm; not quite bathwater warm, but any warmer and it might very well defeat the purpose of a dip to cool off. A canny sort, he was entirely aware of what a pegasus looked like when they floated as he did in the water. 

Quack-quack. 

Above him, past the ledge that the waterfall poured over, there was a lot going on. Starlight Glimmer functioned as a crane, for one thing, and the junky old airship that Hoppy had arrived in was now gutted, with its hind-end torn open so that its innards could be exposed. Sundance had no idea what was going on up there, and truth be told, he didn't want to know. Smart ponies were at work doing something, and he could trust them to get it done. All he wanted to do was float—and so he did. His long legs caused his hooves to scrape against the stone basin as he drifted nearer to the edge. 

A loud clunk from up above caused all of Sundance's feathers to puff out, but he was otherwise undisturbed. The falling water caused immense ripples that radiated outward in soothing circles and caused him to bob up and down. It almost made him sleepy. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to look at the crystal tree, and when his thoughts about Cucumber became too much to bear, he turned his eyes elsewhere. 

And then, without warning, he was no longer alone. 

Gisela emerged out of the bunkhouse for the orphans; the door opened and out she came, alone and unescorted. It was only when she flew right at him that he understood why she was allowed outside without adult supervision—because he was the adult supervision. He heard the soft fluttering of wings—hers were almost spookily silent—and then, in a move that surprised him, she landed on his back. 

Her tiny but sharp claws prickled him as she struggled to keep her balance, but she did not injure him. Sundance too, had to expend some effort to keep himself upright, but it was really no trouble at all. Gisela was small and very nearly weightless upon his back. Soon, the two of them found their balance, and there was no longer any struggle. He felt her as she sat down just between his wings, and her stubby tail almost tickled him. 

"Scared of the water?" he asked. 

"Can't swim," she replied. 

"We'll have to sort that out," he said to her. 

"Where does all the water go?" she asked. "Only some of it pours out." 

"I think," he began, grateful for this distraction, "that most of the water flows into that crack at the bottom of the basin. It then gets brought to a boil in the ground down below us, and then that hot, boiling water bubbles up into that cave over there. The kitchen used to be in there, along with the baths. Kinda yucky if you ask me. Corduroy put an end to that and brought hygiene into our lives." 

"She told me to talk to you." 

"Did she?" Sundance felt tiny talons tugging at his mane. 

"I lost my parents," the cub perched upon his back said. 

A sigh was heaved, almost as if it were discarded, and then all sense of feeling went sideways. Like a sad duckling, his head bowed until his nose almost touched the water, and this time, when he sighed a second time, his sudden exhalation caused choppy ripples in the water. Little claws combed through his mane, tugging away at the tangles, and there was something immensely comforting about this act of kindness. 

It was easier to talk about how the water flowed. 

Without warning, the hooligan headache returned and brought with it some truly terrific neck cramps. The base of his skull felt as though it were caught in a vice and the pressure reached the point of being utterly unbearable far too soon. While his own feelings were awful, he could not help but feel worse for Gisela. How awful it must have been for her. Not just to lose her parents, but then get shuffled from place to place. Rather than grieve for what she had lost, Gisela had to go from place to place and put her best face forward. She had no choice but to be well-adjusted and well-behaved. There were probably a lot of moments where she had to pretend that nothing was wrong. For a moment, Sundance wasn't sure which was more powerful; his grief, or his sense of empathy. 

"You never got to say goodbye, did you?" he asked. 

"Non-non," she replied in what was barely a whisper. 

"I'm sorry." He was sorry. More than he realised. The sheer weight of it all bore down upon him, and in his moment of profound grief, he found gratitude. For lack of anything better to say, he asked, "Do you like Hollyhock?" 

"She likes me," the cub replied, her accent thicker than ever. "Wants to be my maman." 

"Is it hard for you? I mean… well, of course it is… but I mean, you probably just want to be left alone and Hollyhock, well, knowing her, she probably wants to comfort you and do what she does." 

"Oui." 

"Everypony is trying to help me before I fall apart. Worried I guess. That's a good thing, I suppose. It means that they care about me. Don't know how I feel about all of this. Truth is, I don't want to feel anything at all. I just want it to go away and I don't want to think about it or feel anything at all. I want it to be over so I can just go on with my life. But I feel real bad because I want this." 

"That's bad," the cub said. "Not good. Pas bon." 

"I suppose it is." He allowed the water to carry him where it may and the ripples caused him to bob up and down as he drifted closer to where the waterfall poured into the stone basin. Little claws combed through his mane and climbed further up his neck, which sent shivers down his kinked spine. 

Pegasus ponies, in their most intimate and heartfelt moments, groomed one another. It was something unique to their tribe, something that the unicorns and earth ponies did not fully understand. It was something done with family members, loved ones, and those most dear. Griffons too, he realised, also followed similar social rituals. Little Gisela was grooming him, an attempt to make him feel better no doubt, and he had no idea how he felt about it. 

But he was touched—in more ways than one. 

"When Cucumber died… I didn't deal with it. Now that I think about it, I guess I just avoided it until it went away, except it hasn't gone away. Now that my grandmother has died, I have to deal with both. I don't know how." 

There was a soft sigh from Gisela, and then he heard her say, "Equestria is a magical place with no sadness. That's what my parents told me. Père promised it was true. No more troubles. No more hunger." 

"And you had to face the truth on your own, without your parents. I'm sorry, Gisela." 

A ruckus, or perhaps even a hullabaloo could be heard above them, over the ledge of the waterfall. The clatter of metal, assorted clunks, gong-noises, a multitude of kabongs, all of which was followed by the bluest, most ear-blistering profanity that Sundance had ever heard in his life. It was Hoppy; of course it was Hoppy. That particular unicorn mare just had that way about her. He hardly knew her, but he recognised her voice, the very voice that spewed out the profanest profanities ever produced. 

As the cacophony subsided, Gisela said, "I like it here. I don't like the city. I don't get punished for saying my words. It's getting harder to say them. They go away when I don't say them." 

Somewhere up above them, Hoppy went on an explosive tirade about the fornicative habits of the airship's mother, a string of expletives so vulgar, so vile, so very vomitous—that Sundance began to wonder if he should perhaps put a stop to it. But as it turned out, he need not worry; the infirmary door opened, Corduroy stuck her head out, and after but a second of listening, the diamond dog nurse made the most terrifying, most turn-your-bowels-to-water expression that Sundance had ever seen. 

Something about the way that Corduroy's triangular ears angled forward… 

"Hang on, Gisela… you and I are going to go somewhere safe. Hang on tight!" 



 

"Here she is, home safe," Sundance said to Hollyhock, who seemed a bit out of sorts. It wasn't that she seemed angry, but she might very well be annoyed, or perhaps frustrated with him. "She wanted to see the orchard and I think we both needed to clear our heads." With this, Hollyhock seemed somewhat mollified, and Sundance allowed himself a faint grin of relief. 

The sun had gone west to die and now, the last vestiges of the dying light turned everything a hazy shade of orange. Hollyhock stood in the doorway, her face performing all manner of complicated facial gymnastics, and Gisela still sat upon Sundance's back. Inside the bunkhouse, it was clearly bedtime, as Hollyhock was a firm believer that little ones should go to bed when the sun did. 

"How are you holding up?" she asked. 

He took a moment to look Hollyhock in the eye and was thankful that things had sort of been sorted out between them. At least there didn't seem to be any open animosity to keep them apart. Something had changed—though he felt no need to press his luck. Her warm concern was genuine and something within her eyes might even be affectionate. He decided that she was irked because flying just before bedtime probably left Gisela in an excited state—but she wasn't exactly the sort to go to bed with the sun. 

Little Gisela was a hooter—and Hollyhock would have to come to terms with that. 

"I don't know," he replied with complete honesty. 

"That can't be good." 

Unable to deal with further conversation about this subject, he changed it. "How do you feel about Gisela and her bits of Fancy?" 

This caught Hollyhock by surprise and she stood there for a moment, blinking. When she recovered a bit, she said, "I find it charming. I've been trying to get her to teach what she knows to the others. It's cute." 

"Well," he began, sighing out the first word, "that's good, because her last caretaker punished her for it. She got punished for not speaking in Equestrian Common." 

Something dark could be seen just behind Hollyhock's eyes, and Sundance, though surprised by it, was relieved to see it. The son of Officer Mom, he knew maternal fury when he saw it, and like a pot left on a hot stove, Hollyhock began to boil over in her own quiet way. For all of her faults, of which there were many, she was still a good mare, with good intentions, who wanted only the best for her wards. 

Now, it was his turn. "Are you alright, Holly?" He saw her upper lip tremble, a warning sign for certain. 

"I'm fine," she said in a manner that indicated that she was not fine. "But I am overcome with the need to kick somepony into whatever is above the stratosphere."

"Big mad!" Runt cried from within the bunkhouse. 

"Think sleepy thoughts, Runt," Hollyhock said in an artificially cheerful voice. "Sleepy bedtime thoughts. Warm blankets and nice hugs. Snuggly sleepy thoughts, Runt." 

"Nice hugs?" he dared to ask aloud. 

"Runt is a hugger," she replied. "Strong, too. Being an earth pony, I can take it. I'm pretty sure that he could hug you into jam. So I'm trying to teach him about nice hugs." 

"Oh." Somewhat surprised, Sundance found himself at a loss for words, and had no clever response. 

"He just needs to be taught," she said to offer some reassurance. "He can be taught. My little Runty is a bit slow, but he's not a lost cause." 

"I'm glad to hear you say that." 

"Gisela, are you ready to go to bed?" asked Hollyhock. 

There was no response from the cub, who stiffened upon Sundance's back. 

"Holly, please, try to indulge her nighttime nature if you can. Just a little bit." Looking her in the eye, Sundance attempted to plead his case through expression alone. "Let her help you put the others to bed. If she stays up a little later, she can help you with your little one. Or you could have a little special time together, just the two of you." 

"But it's not fair to the others," Hollyhock replied. 

"Maybe not," he agreed to smooth the situation over, "but it doesn't feel very fair to Gisela. She is, after all, rather owlish." 

"Alright, alright…" With her head bowed, Hollyhock agreed to compromise. "I suppose I could use a helper. Come on, Gisela." 

With a flutter of wings, the tiny griffon cub lept from Sundance's back and then landed upon Hollyhock's. The earth pony mare seemed surprised by this for a moment, but she was quick to recover. Sundance found himself looking down at Hollyhock, and she up at him. Whatever their relationship was, he didn't understand it, other than they were raising young together. Which was weird, really. They shared equal responsibilities, each in their own way, and as he stood there, lost in his own thoughts, he wondered how he might be more involved. 

He needed to be more involved. 

"Good night," he said to all. "You behave and you mind Miss Hollyhock. She wants what is best for you." 

In return, he heard many goodnights, and at least one stifled yawn, which forced a smile out of him. Some measure of calm had returned to Hollyhock's face, but he knew that she was still upset. Her sense of motherhood had been pricked; somepony had messed with one of her young, and that was not something that would go away anytime soon. 

"I have a few empty beds," she said in a low whisper to Sundance. "Seems a shame to waste them. I have room for a few more in the bunkhouse… and my heart." 

"I'll see what I can do," he replied. "Goodnight, all."



 

The day ended, as days tended to do. And what a day it had been. Alone with his thoughts, Sundance paced the length of his room, which was still sparsely furnished. The clip-clop of his hooves against the stone floor echoed off of the walls, also stone, and the sound was somehow both annoying and reassuring. Back and forth he went in a mindless manner, dreading the long night to come. 

Would it be paperwork that got him through the night? Pacing along the parapets? That struck him as a most noble thing to do; he wouldn't patrol the parapets to avoid sleep, no. He would keep watch, and that was an act of sacrifice, a little something of himself that he gave to others. A book might be nice, but his attention span could only be called injured at this point. There was the radio, but it lacked appeal and the poor reception would surely drive him nuts. 

Just as he turned about at the far side of the room, the door—halfway shut—was pushed open completely. Turmeric stood in the doorway, almost squinting, and there was a knowing look on his face. At least, Sundance read it as a knowing look. The two of them sized one another up for a short time, and for Sundance, he could not help but feel that he was caught in the act of doing wrong. 

Unable to overcome his sense of guilt, he was the first to turn away. 

"Time for bed, Sundance." 

Caught completely off guard, he backed up a step and stared down at the floor. 

"Come on, Sundance. It's time for bed. And I'm taking you to bed." 

He tried to pick his gaze up off the floor, and failed. 

"Before you ask, Corduroy put me up to this." 

"I don't know about this," Sundance managed to say. 

"For clarity's sake… nothing is going to happen. We're just going to bed. I'm going to be here for you, because the night is long." Turmeric entered the room proper and shut the door behind him with his hind leg. It was a remarkably confident gesture for the meek stallion. 

"Not sure how I feel about this and I—" 

"We've slept together before, Sundance," said Turmeric, who now closed the distance between them. "Why does this have to be weird? Two mares sleep together, and nopony bats an eye. They can sit in a tub together at the spa and it is all perfectly normal. This is why I so desperately want to be a mare, Sundance. I don't like how my gender requires me to shut others out. Can I not be comforting? Why can't I be there for you when you need me?" 

"That's a lot to think about, Turmeric." 

"It is, and I'm sorry for that." The slight yellowish stallion licked his lips with his orange tongue. "And you should know that I'm about ten seconds away from having an anxiety attack from being so assertive. This is terrifying." 

Sundance blinked once, glanced over at his friend, blinked again for the second time, and saw a completely different pony. His mustard-coloured friend was stricken with terror, but doing everything to hide it. Muscles twitched and tugged. Ears trembled. Something seemed off with his pupils. Nostrils were flared wide and his sides heaved with overdrawn, laboured breaths. Turmeric had stuck his neck out to be a good friend. 

Without thinking, Sundance went to him, he crossed the room with his long stride, and with his wings extended, he embraced his friend. Turmeric remained frozen for a short time, stiff and rigid as he was, but was quick to melt into Sundance's warm, feathery embrace. While he couldn't tell if this felt right, it at least didn't feel too terribly wrong—at least once he got over his initial hangup about the awkward situation. 

Yes, the night would be long, but he was not alone. 
> Got Lucky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The grey-brown oatmeal served for breakfast rather matched Sundance's mood. It looked how he felt. A congealed mess of… something. Sullen, out of sorts, he tapped the wooden bowl with his hoof and watched as the disturbed glop sent up a curled column of steam. Was it a cry for help that only other bowls of oatmeal could understand? A part of him hoped this was true, even if it were a silly thing to think. Again he tapped his bowl of oatmeal, and it was disturbed enough to slap against the sloped side of the bowl. A pony ate oats; that was the way of things, but Sundance didn't feel like eating oats this morning. Eggs with sunny yellow yolks would have been cheerful, at least—not that he was in the mood for eggs, either. But oatmeal? It was the colour of dreary, dour, despondent depression. 

"The colour of my breakfast doesn't agree with me," he muttered to himself. 

Beside him, Turmeric seemed far less concerned with the colour of his breakfast—or burning his mouth for that matter. He'd already eaten most of the contents of his bowl and after a moment of hesitation, Sundance slid his uneaten oatmeal over to his friend. The long night was at least tolerable with Turmeric's company. Sundance didn't sleep much, though when he did, he had troubling dreams that he couldn't remember upon waking. When at last he finally sensed the coming dawn, it was a relief. 

But now, he didn't know what to do with his day, and he wasn't going to start it with oatmeal. 

"There is unfinished bunny business," he said aloud, and this caused several heads to turn and look at him, Paradox among them. "I think I'll follow through with that today. Do a flyover of the beaver dams and see what's going on up there. After that, I think I'll check out Drowned Rabbit Gulch." 

Did he just name a location within his barony? 

It seemed that he did. 

Would it stick? 

"I'd like to head out early, before it gets hot," he said to Paradox. "Are you up for another bombing run?"

"I can be," she replied. "Are you sure that you're up for this?" 

Saying nothing, Sundance's response was a brief nod. 

"Maybe a little sightseeing might do you good," Paradox said, which got another nod out of Sundance. "Our last trip was… exhilarating. I hope this one won't be quite as exciting." Then, she was quick to add, "For your sake, Sundance. I think you need a nice day." 

Pushing her empty bowl aside, Corduroy entered the conversation. "I've spoken with Floodgate and some of the others. Restoring the flow of water will really bring everything back to life. The meadows and thickets beyond the orchard used to be all farmed land, with a river on each side. It's about a mile or so wide at its widest point, and several miles long. I was told that all of it used to be a sea of sunflowers as far as the eye could see." 

"And it will be again," Sundance said to his nurse. 

"There used to be houses out that way," Corduroy continued, "and there were cellars. We might need to do a careful sweep of the ground so that we don't have ponies falling into a hole like Amber Dawn did. The last thing we need are broken legs, or worse." 

"Houses?" More than a little intrigued, Sundance seized upon this delightful distraction. 

"The land between the two rivers was given to knights and ponies of importance. There used to be nice houses out that way. I was told that the knights and wizards watched over the peasants that lived in the houses down in the orchard ravine. We might even find the ruins of an old wizard's tower. Could be dangerous." 

"I'll keep an eye out," Sundance said in response. 

"That is good land," Turmeric said around a mouthful of mush. "The sort of land we can offer to homesteaders. When I get back to Canterlot, shall I start making appealing advertisements? Rustic will have a lot to say about this." 

Without thinking much about it, Sundance nodded. "Yes, start an advertising campaign for homesteaders. The sooner we have ponies living on that land and tilling the soil, the better. I suppose it is even more important to restore the flow of water now and get everything back to how it was." 

"Miss Blintz knows a lot of earth ponies who wish to be farmers," Turmeric said after he swallowed. "They wish to return to the land and get out of the cities. This might be a dream come true. I'm excited about this… that I'm a part of this." 

"Turmeric…" 

"Yes, Sundance?" 

"Work closely with Miss Blintz. I mean, she's here. Talk her ear off. If she already knows ponies willing to homestead, it might save us a lot of trouble. See if you can sort out a screening and application process. I want something based on need… those with the most dire of circumstances are to be first to be seen. Homeless families and the like. I'm sure that will help my image campaign." 

"Sure thing, Sundance." 

"Make a day of it, Turmeric. When I come back from bunny bombing, I'll want a report." 

"Can do." 

"There's only so much daylight," Sundance said to his companions. "Let's make the most of it." 



 

Hennessy was reading a book. The studious stallion had skipped breakfast in the dining hall and ate apples as he studied. While there was some guilt for disturbing him, Sundance didn't allow himself to feel too bad. Sitting in the sun as he was, the earth pony's pelt revealed remarkable highlights and colour, fantastic streaks of gold hidden amongst ruddy browns. Effeminate or not, he was still handsome—and there was a lot of him to look at. 

"What are you reading?" asked Sundance as he sat down in the grass beside Hennessy. 

"A real page-turner about new diseases," was Hennessy's somewhat dry reply. 

"Sounds… riveting." 

"Oh, it is." The studious earth pony looked up from his book, licked his lips once, twice, and then a third time just to be certain to get every last drop of juice. "There's a new viral infection going around. No name yet, as far as I know, at least when this book was written. It's a fascinating two-part illness. The first stage is extreme constipation, which corks you up and lasts for days." 

Even though he did not want to do so, Sundance asked, "And the second part?" 

"This is what makes it so fascinating," Hennessy began with much enthusiasm. "The constipation goes away and is replaced with explosive bloody diarrhea… which just so happens to be incredibly infectious. It really is incredible when you think about it. Rather clever!" 

Something vital within Sundance's brain seized up in such a way that it might never function again. The metaphorical curtains of his imagination parted and he was treated to a mental image of a distressed pony that grew larger and larger, his eyes bulging, his sides swelling, and a grimace of pain plainly visible on his face. When the imminent explosion happened, Sundance waved his front legs in front of his face in a desperate attempt to dispel the horrible mental imagery, but his mind's eye was as merciless as it was relentless, and he saw every terrible, deranged detail. 

"Oh, that oatmeal is coming up—urp!" Turning about Paradox shook her head, gagged, and then somehow managed to moan out, "I gotta go!" 

And just like that, she was gone, gone, gone. 

"Infectious diseases," Hennessy said while Paradox ran away, lickety-split. He pointed to his biohazard cutie mark, smiled, and nodded his head. "It started when I noticed that I could smell sickness. Well, as it turns out, that was just my brain's way of turning my talent into a means of interpretation that I could understand. Now, I can sense it. It is like an itch between my ears and just behind my eyeballs. Not only can I sense it, but I'm damn good at predicting where it will be and how it will get there. While I have a lot of natural talent for this, if I want to be the very best that I can be, it means reading and studying. Sometimes while I stuff my face." 

"How would you like to bomb some bunnies?" asked Sundance, who had nothing at all to say about the topic of infectious disease, not after what his brain had shown him. He was in a hurry to move on. 

"I'd love to," replied Hennessy, "but I think Paradox has already released her payload." 



 

"Baron Sundance, before you leave, a word with you if I may." 

Grandmother Growler stood beside Wort, her dutiful grandson that served as her eyes. Her feathered crest was tugged upon by the wind and her milky, rheumy eyes seemed to stare right through Sundance, who was right in the middle of giving the sky truck a pre-flight onceover. He gave all of his attention to the old, wise griffoness, and he couldn't help but think about how his own grandmother would be proud of him for doing so. 

"You fight to keep us safe," the old griffoness said. 

"Well, I try. Not that great at it, I'm afraid." 

"Well then, you try to keep us safe. That's different. Most lords I know send others to fight and die in their stead." Her head tilted off to one side, as if she heard something, and the feathers of her graceful neck rippled as the wind gusted. "I have something that will be of use to you. Not much use to me, I'm afraid, not since I lost my eyes. Since you fight for us, you should have something to fight with. So I am giving you my old battle harness and tomahawk." 

She reached into the satchel that was slung against her side and pulled out what appeared to be a tangled mess. When she held it up and gave it a gentle shake, the mess became something recognisable, something beautiful and horrible. A leather harness. Actual real leather, old and battle scarred. It had rings on it to clip gear onto, and the handle of some kind of small axe could be seen. The wood was old, smooth, gleaming, and glossy with wear. 

"It's a figure-eight harness," the old griffoness said. "One half of it goes over your head and down your neck. The part in the middle goes over your chest, and rests between your front legs. The other loop goes up along your sides, and the ends clasp together just behind your wings. As for the tomahawk itself, it can clip on to any spot that feels comfortable to you." 

She moved forward, without warning, and at first Sundance thought he was getting a hug—but no. While he was embraced, it was so that she could slip the harness on. One end looped over his head—it tickled his ear for a moment—and then she made a few quick adjustments. Leaning against him, she moved beside him, reached beneath him, looped the opened end of the harness, and pulled it up over his back, just behind his wings. There was a soft click as the brass latch closed, and Sundance couldn't help but wonder how he looked. 

Then, quite without warning, Grandmother Growler pulled the tomahawk from its leather sheath, and held it up right below his nose, a mere hair's breadth from his vulnerable, fleshy lip. Eyes crossed, he stared down his nose at it, and he did not dare to move for fear that he might become rather faceless. The tomahawk was made from a shoe—a pony shoe. One end of the shoe was wedged into the wooden handle and secured with brass pins. As for the other end of the shoe, it formed the bottom of the blade, and the entire curved edge was honed to razor perfection. It rather looked like a question mark, the shoe and the handle of the tomahawk, and what a deadly question it was. 

"Might not look it, but it is balanced for throwing," she said to him as she began to twirl it in her talons. "You'll have to learn how to throw. I might be able to teach you, we'll see. It's called Lucky, though as far as I know, it's not magical. Just superstition about shoes, ye ken." 

When he reached out, she pressed the wooden handle into his fetlock. The wood was warm to the touch and the weapon had more weight than he expected. In all of his life, he'd never seen anything like this, not in the movies, and so he had nothing to compare it to. With Grandmother Growler's talons wrapped around his foreleg to guide him, the tomahawk was slipped back into its sheath, which rested just above where the harness passed between his front legs. Once it was secure, she pressed his hoof against the flap, and after a moment of increased pressure, he heard a metallic snap. 

"Keep us safe," the old griffoness said with a great degree of solemnity. 

"I will," Sundance promised, without realising that he'd done so. 

"Come along, Wort. We have much to do. You remember what yarrow looks like, right?" 

"Sure do, Granny."

"Good boy." Then, bowing her head, she said to Sundance, "Thank you. I like it here. Reminds me of the home I never knew I wanted. Go and give those pesky bunnies what for, will you?" 

Touched and somewhat emotional, Sundance nodded. "I will. Thank you for the gift. I'll do my best to be worthy of it." 

"One day," Grandmother Growler said to him, "you'll be old but wise. Try to pass it along." 

"I will," he was quick to say. "I promise." 

"Good. Good." She gestured at her grandson. "Come along, Wort." 

Vision blurry, Sundance watched as the two of them departed. 
> When you find what what should be forgotten
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A large section of the outer ring of the beaver fortress was destroyed, but the inner sections survived. Circling, almost gliding, Sundance had his eyes on the ground—and not so much on the sky. With much of the outermost ring in shambles, more water flowed down into the fertile lands, and a lot less water flowed into the yawning chasm, where it just disappeared, never to be seen again. He wanted a good look inside of that cave, which was more than large enough to fly into, though not with a sky truck and passengers. 

The Crags were a mess, with everything covered in black dirt and glistening black mud. Some of the Crags were flooded, and Sundance wondered just how much new black dirt would end up down in the orchard ravine because of this. When farmed, fields had to lie fallow so that the earth could recover, unless of course regular flooding deposited fresh new topsoil. While he barely understood these concepts of farming, he was able to grasp their importance. 

For all he knew, these flowing waters might've been the barony's secret to success. 

"Paradox… Let's try to take out the western side this time, so more water flows away from the gulp hole—" 

"The gulp hole, Sundance?" 

"Well, what else shall we call it?" 

"Gulp Hole it is!" Hennessy shouted. 

"Both of you are horrible ponies!" Paradox told her companions. 

"We'll remove what's left of the outer barriers and open up the next section," Sundance said. "Though I must say, I'm tempted to just have it all torn down today." 

"A controlled reintroduction might be better, but I really don't know," Paradox said in response. 

"There are gaps in the pine… over to our direct east. This is all dense forest. These gaps don't seem right. Something seems off somehow. After we've blown up the dam, we should head over that way to have a better look. It's probably nothing, but my gut tells me we should have a better look." 

"We'll do, Hennessy," replied Sundance. "Paradox, I'm going to come around and align myself for the dam-buster run. Be ready." 

"I'm ready already!" 



 

For the second time, things did not go as planned, and a far-larger section of beaver dam collapsed than intended. Once the water began to flow, more and more bits and pieces broke away, which only released even more water, and this continued as a sort of vicious cycle. As Sundance circled overhead, a tremendous section of the outer dam along the western edge of the land shelf was washed away into the Crags, and this in turn caused larger pieces of the inner barrier to get torn away. 

It was spectacular to watch as this calamitous failure happened. The flow of the water changed significantly and a raging muddy-brown torrent washed down into the Crags. On the other side of the shelf, hardly any water flowed down into the Gulp Hole, and Sundance saw this as a good sign. He had no idea where all that water went down there—probably into an underground river or a cistern—but he needed it up here. 

Watching as the flood took on a life of its own made him think about how his barony seemed to be doing the same thing. Little events led to larger events. The barriers were coming down, which in turn, caused other obstructions to crumble. Life was returning. Now, more than ever, he had to be careful. His choices had consequences, both good and ill. His actions would have far-reaching effects, and he was more aware of that now than ever. 



 

Certain things seemed out of place in nature, such as perfectly straight lines. Down below them, running from west to east, was a perfectly straight line, a narrow gap that barely existed between the pines. It was hard to see at first, almost impossible to spot from above, until one flew directly over it and was able to look down. Some sort of paved road could be seen, or at least the evidence of what might have once been a road. If the ruins scattered over the Crags had once been some structure, then this road ran due east of it. What could possibly exist in these overgrown woods? There was no sign of ruins, no sign of a settlement. 

The line between the pines was straight, remarkably level, and the more Sundance saw of it, the more certain he became that it was made, not natural. It had to be paved, or cobblestoned, or something, because only small plants grew along its lengths—and not trees. Following the mysterious line filled Sundance with an exciting sense of discovery, and he could not help but wonder what purpose this road once served. 

So intent was he on sorting out this mystery that he hardly thought of his grandmother. 

If he stayed directly above the gap in the trees and looked straight down, he could see that the road stretched for several miles ahead. If one flew overhead from say, north to south, one might miss it completely. Even if one flew from west to east as he did right now, one might still miss it, unless one flew in perfect parallel view from directly above. The pines had crowded in and their needly boughs formed a protective barrier that kept the ancient road hidden. 

Surely it had to be an ancient road—Sundance was convinced of that now. 

"Over there," Hennesy said. "Sundance, to your left. There's an off-path." 

"There is?" asked Sundance. "I don't see it." 

"Trust me, there is. And I think I see something else, but I'm not sure what. Go left, Sundance." 

"Sure thing, Hennessy, but we're right up against the base of the mountain. If there's a path, it'll be a steep slope soon enough. That's almost a sheer cliff over there." 

Following Hennesy's instructions, Sundance veered left and then began to scan the sea of green pines below him. There was precious little room between the overgrown old road and the side of the mountain, though there was probably more than he realised due to looking down upon it from high above. At first, he saw nothing out of place, but then he noticed the break in the endless green. After a bit of banking and correction, he had himself aligned just so and sure enough, there was a narrow path below, all overgrown and swallowed up by the forest. 

Then, he saw it. Nestled amongst the sentinel pines, there was a structure that jutted out from the steep sides of the mountain's foundations. White stone could be seen between boughs of evergreen. The glorious scent of hot pine only made this discovery even more exhilarating, and Sundance was almost overcome by the sheer thrill of this magical moment. But as he tried to get a better look at whatever it was that he'd found, he became dismayed by the fact that it was too obscured. 

He would have to land. 

The ancient road would be his runway. 



 

Paradox Sunflower spat out a mouthful of pine needles, and then spat out a few more. Then, after she stuck her tongue out, she spat out even more pine needles, all while giving Sundance the darkest of looks. As for Sundance himself, he had pine needles in his wings, his mane, and stuck to his tail. He was rather sticky and didn't want to think about how many feathers he might lose when he tried to scrub off the sap stuck to his wings. 

"Crashing was not on the agenda for today," Paradox said, and then punctuated her terse outburst with more spitting. 

"That was no crash, we walked away from it," Sundance said. "If you hadn't screamed, you might not have a mouthful of pine needles right now." 

Whipping her head about, Paradox focused her incendiary glower upon Sundance—but her moment of fury was made less-so when she used her tongue to lick away a pine needle stuck to her lip, which she promptly spat out. Sundance reconsidered; she'd called it a crash, he called it a landing. It was really just semantics. The ancient cobblestone roadway was covered with old pine needles and debris, which made it quite slippery. It was rather like landing on sheet ice, which really wasn't a problem. Anypony could land on sheet ice—but stopping was the real trick. 

Thankfully, some kind and friendly trees helped to arrest his forward momentum. 

With an air of solemn dignity, Hennessy silently brushed himself off, failed miserably to remove the pine needles from his pelt, and then he let go a sigh of resignation. Sundance admired Hennessy's stoicism, but he couldn't help but wonder if the quiet earth pony might just be a little bit annoyed with him. They were friends, surely there would be forgiveness—though Sundance was prepared to ask for it if it became necessary to do so. 

"I have come to the conclusion that I don't like nature," Paradox announced. "Nature is sticky, it tastes bad, and it—oh it's in my tail!" 

"No one is hurt," Hennessy deadpanned. 

"I got stabbed in my tongue!" shouted Paradox. 

"Correction: nopony is seriously hurt." Turning his head about, Hennessy had a good look at his own tail, and seemed dismayed by what he saw. "Well, now I have two phrases that will forever chill my blood. When Piper announces that she has a cunning plan, and when Sundance says he's going to attempt a landing. At least Flicker is mostly silent when he tries to get us all killed." 

Thoroughly miffed, Sundance made his feelings known: "I thought my landing was pretty good. I had a narrow approach… so narrow, in fact, that I couldn't keep my wings fully spread—" 

"To me, that seems like a good indicator that it is time to abort!" 

Paradox had a point, though Sundance was loathe to admit it. 

"Well, since we're here, let's take that path north and see what we can find," Hennessy suggested to his companions. "Sundance, you might have landed under adverse conditions, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a bonehead for attempting it. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and I've done a lot less dancing than I'd like." 

Ears drooping, Sundance cast a glance at the sky truck, and then began to trudge north. 



 

What were once massive wooden doors were now little more than a heap of fungus-ridden debris. The white stone arch was intact, but covered in moss and lichen. A curiously cool breeze wafted out of the darkness beyond the arch and Sundance squinted to see anything beyond where the light was swallowed up in shadow. Hennessy appeared to be studying the fallen doors, while Paradox stared up at the keystone at the top of the arch. 

"Look," she said, "it's hard to see, and half covered in green fuzz, but you can see Princess Celestia's sun-mark." 

Though he had to wait for his eyes to adjust and focus, Sundance saw it too. 

Hennessy stepped around the rotten wood, mindful of his every movement, and then stood within the arched doorway itself. "I should probably put my mask on to see, but I want to see things as they are." 

To banish the darkness, Paradox ignited her horn and then joined Hennessy in the doorway. Sundance moved to follow and then stepped past his friends so that he might take the lead. After the exciting landing, getting gobbled first was the least he could do. A long wide hallway stretched before them, a place where light had not shone for who knows how long. The floor sloped down at a gentle angle, suggesting that whatever was ahead rested in the bowels of the mountain, which filled Sundance with dreadful hesitation. 

"Look at that," Hennessy whispered. 

Sundance turned as Paradox shone her light upon the wall. There was a tile mosaic of Princess Celestia, faded and timeworn. Slime and lichen filled the cracks between the bits of tile, but the white alicorn was quite recognisable—though she was incredibly fat. No, not fat, Sundance realised, but pregnant. The jagged puzzle Celestia was pregnant and she held out one hoof, which pointed down the hallway. An exceptionally large sun could be seen on her oversized posteriour—no, not a sun. A half-sun, half-moon. There was a lot of mildew and goo obstructing the mark. 

"That is not a flattering representation," Paradox said to the others. 

"Grandmother has been dieting—" 

"Sundance, don't say that, you dope!" The light from Paradox's horn flickered as she whirled to face him. "This is some sort of temple, I'm sure of it. Be respectful!" Her voice echoed down the hallway, a nagging repeated reminder to be respectful. 

When Hennessy dared to chortle, Paradox turned her glower power upon him. 

"She's inviting us in," Sundance said as he pointed in the same direction that Celestia did. "Let's have a look around. But be careful. Watch where you step." 



 

It was blessedly cool down in the depths. Critters scurried away from Paradox's light and the sounds of claws on stone sent shivers down Sundance's spine. At the end of the entrance hall was a round chamber, and in the middle of the chamber was a statue of Princess Celestia—also incredibly rotund. Sundance studied her pear-shaped body with much fascination. Beneath the statue was a basin, which was filled with litter and dust. 

"She has teats," Sundance announced. 

"Of course Princess Celestia has teats," Paradox muttered. "This is a blessing pool. Water once flowed from"—she paused and her voice lowered—"water once flowed from her teats and filled the pool. It was for anointing." 

"Paradox, how exactly would you know that?" asked Sundance. 

"I read about it in a book," she replied as she turned her face away from him. 

"So ponies once came to bathe in Princess Celestia's teat-water—" 

"Hennessy, would you please be respectful of the female form?" 

"I'm sorry." The earth pony bowed his head. "I suppose this is a sacred place." 

"It was, once." Paradox began to look around, and then craned her head to look at another mosaic on the wall. 

This one also depicted a gravid Princess Celestia, and she was surrounded by a multitude of little ponies—all of whom seemed to be engaged in some manner of orchestrated orgy. As the light revealed every sordid detail, a faint wheeze could be heard from Paradox, and Sundance's cheeks grew warm. Princess Celestia's eyes were open, blazing with fire, and her wings were tremendously oversized. Right near her hooves, a pile of little ponies were in the act of plural coitus. 

Then, the image went dark as Paradox backed away. 

"There is strange magic here," Paradox said. "I can sense it on the edges of my perception. It is powerful. Strange. Different. Perhaps an artifact was left behind. We must find it. Dangerous things sometimes are left in old ruins, things that should not be forgotten." 

Something about Paradox seemed off, and Sundance knew that she wasn't well. But who was he to judge? At the moment, she seemed content to pretend that nothing was wrong, and so was he. If he didn't have to think about his dead grandmother, then Paradox didn't have to confront that she was terrified of sex and stuck in a fertility temple. Her bravery turned him solemn, and he no longer felt the need to crack wise. 

"Follow me," she said as she flashed her light down another hallway. 



 

Tiny bones littered the hallway and crunched underhoof. Wads of hair collected in corners and the sheer number of owl pellets present stupefied Sundance, who could not make sense of everything. There was light ahead, which seemed dangerous and a little scary, because they were underground. Not just underground, but under a mountain. Just thinking about it left him feeling a bit sweaty and out of sorts. 

The hallway, which sloped downward and curved slightly, opened up into another chamber, this one round just like the last. Sunlight speared down from an opening in the ceiling. Green things grew from the cracks in the floor and there was a puddle of sludge in the sundered stones. The stench of old mildew mixed with green rot and warm vegetation. There were stone benches here, and owls, who seemed annoyed about the intrusion. 

That explained the owl pellets. 

"We're close," Paradox whispered. "Do you feel it?" 

"I feel something," replied Hennessy, "though I know not what." 

Annoyed, the owls hooted their displeasure. 

As if guided by some unseen force, Paradox led the way, much to Sundance's concern. She made her way through the circular chamber, avoided the pool of sludge in the middle, and then stopped when she reached an arched door on the other side. Beyond the door was another room, and light. How the sunlight snuck past the pines was a mystery, but Sundance was grateful for the light. 

When Paradox went through the door, he followed. 



 

The second room was shaped a bit like a kidney bean and like the first, had a shaft for sunlight. This room was also a mess and occupied by owls. There were raised stone platforms arranged in neat, orderly rows, and on the far side of the room there was an ornate stone basin. From within the basin, the trickle of water could be heard. The air wasn't stinky, putrid, or foul, but rather, perfumed and sweet. Sundance found that he wanted to be here, it was inviting. 

Hennessy paused to examine a raised stone platform, which was about the same size as a bed. Meanwhile, Sundance pushed past so that he could have a better look at the basin. His hooves clip-clopped against the stone stairs, and upon reaching the landing, he looked down into the pool of water, only to find that it was remarkably clean. No filth existed in the pool, no scum, no slime, no bones, it was just clean, pure water. 

Inviting, clean, sparkling water that he very much wanted a drink of. His mouth had gone dry and the insides of his cheeks stuck to his molars in the most annoying way. The fragrant air left him lightheaded and just a little bit woozy. Sundance saw his reflection in the water and what a handsome stallion he was. He turned this way, and that way, angled his head just so, and even extended his wings just a little bit. Yes, he was handsome. Irresistible even. And the sight of himself made him thirsty—so thirsty. 

"Get away from that pool, Sundance!" 

Paradox's voice was quite alluring. Attractive even. Inviting. Almost as much as the water where his reflection beckoned. When he did not move away from the basin, he was seized by a powerful intangible force and dragged away. He flapped his wings, dug in his hooves, and tried to catch a final glimpse of himself in the water, but he was unceremoniously dragged down the stairs. 

He really wanted a drink. 

Then, quite suddenly, his head cleared and his thoughts returned to him. He was still thirsty, but he became vaguely aware that something about himself was off. Paradox had cast a spell on him—he was sure of that—and befuddled as he was, he had no idea what was going on. The pool beckoned, his reflection was still up there waiting, but the overwhelming urge had lessened. He blinked, rubbed his head with his wing, and then gave himself a hearty shake. 

"It's a lust pool," Paradox said. "You drink that and you'll become a sex-crazed maniac." 

Upon hearing this, Sundance warily eyeballed the basin full of water. 

"Lust pools cause magical fertility," Paradox continued in a studious but terrified tone. "Princess Celestia must have used it… for what it does. Any pony that drinks from that… any creature… well, this explains the downright unusual number of hybrid crossbreeds around here."

"These are beds," Hennessy said as he backed away from the stone platform he stood next to. 

"We've found Princess Celestia's sex dungeon," Sundance remarked. 

"We have," Paradox agreed. 

"So the owls that live down here have been, uh, getting busy with any animals that just happen to come wandering in and have a drink." At the moment, Sundance couldn't tell if he were scared and stupid, or just plain stupid. He spent a moment trying to collect his thoughts, but everything became all the more jumbled. "We should get out of Princess Celestia's sex dungeon." 

Paradox nodded. "We should. It would be wise." 

"How does an owl and a bear—" 

"Hennessy"—Paradox's voice was strained—"it is best if we do not dwell on such things. At least not here, in this place. Come… we should go." 

"Do you think Discord is responsible for pools like these?" asked Hennessy. 

"Now is not the time." There was real panic in Paradox's voice. "Please, can we go? I do not want to be in this room with two stallions right now. Need I explain why?" 

"Come on, Hennessy. Let's get Paradox outside. I think we could all use some fresh air." 

"Right, Sundance. Outside. We should be going." Head low, ears back, Hennessy headed for the door. 

Sundance cast one final glance at the stone basin, and then he too, followed his friends out. 
> This isn't Sunburst's snorefest
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The adventure had ended with existential terror and tree sap, but such was the way of things. Getting back into the air was an adventure all its own, one full of frustration, swearing, and eventual hard-won triumph. While Sundance should have felt good about getting back into the air, he really didn't feel anything but melancholy and now, as he flew in a general southward direction, he thought about why. 

What had kept him in the city? 

He was a pegasus, a creature capable of flight. Which meant that at any time, he could have flown off to have adventures. To do adventurous things. Of course, he would have had no companions, but that was beside the point. At any given moment, he could spread his wings, take to the air, and have an adventure. There was a huge world for him to see, and he'd spent his life trapped in a city—a clever cage that was difficult to escape. He tried to figure out what had kept him trapped there in a cage with no bars, but try as he might, he couldn't make sense of life. He, his grandmother, and his mother, at any given time, they could have gathered up his father and just flown away together. No more fear, worry, and dread about rent or being stuck in a hated job that was kept solely out of necessity. 

Below him were rivers, forests, lakes, ponds, meadows, and probably all manner of hidden, forgotten, and yes, even secret places, all waiting to be discovered. Places to explore. A huge section of the world that stretched from horizon to horizon awaited him. He wanted to know what was in the Gulp Hole, if anything. As dangerous as it was, he still wanted to explore the temple, and check out every ruined room. 

Even better, or perhaps best of all, he could take others on adventures… 



 

Drowned Rabbit Gulch had changed dramatically. With the water, some green had returned to the ancient riverbed. While the water wasn't deep, not yet, it flowed without ceasing along its bed. Evidence of the flood could be seen along the banks, fresh deposits of rich black dirt—which made these banks wealthy. As he flew along its lengths, Hennessy offered no reports about rabbits, which meant that they had drowned or gone off elsewhere. 

"Grandmother Oak has all kinds of new growth and sprouts," Paradox said as they flew along above the restored river. "There's even new roots growing down into the ground. The old dead tree has come back to life. Not sure what to make of it." 

"Can trees do that?" Hennessy asked in a mechanical growl, his mask making his voice distorted and unpleasant. 

"I don't know," Paradox replied. "Grandmother Oak seems to be undergoing some sort of treeincarnation—" 

"Oh, that's terrible! And you should be ashamed!" 

"Well, what else do I call it, Hennessy?" 

It took several prolonged seconds, but the word 'treeincarnation' detonated within Sundance's brain matter, and then caused ripples through his nervous system as a mighty, mighty cringe overcame him. A lesser flier might have dropped right out of the air, stricken from encountering such a dreadful word, but Sundance somehow managed to stay aloft. Hennessy was wrong: this was beyond terrible and Sundance couldn't tell if he were offended or impressed by what he'd heard. 

"Sundance," Hennessy called out. "Let's fly a circle around the barony. A broad one. There's still a lot of land we haven't covered. Then let's go home for lunch. It's starting to get really hot under this mask." 

"Can do," Sundance replied as he banked right, towards a westerly direction. 



 

Due just west and north of the barony, hidden along the ridge rise of the plateau that formed the rear of the barony's box canyon, the trio found a bevy of bunnies. An army of rabbits had taken up in the secluded, somewhat marshy area. The sheer cliff face wall offered some shelter, streams and trickles of water flowed down from the plateau up above, and there were all manner of thickets and briars that covered the ground. 

It was close too; within walking distance. Just leave the box canyon of the barony, go west, follow the ridge, until one could go north, and keep following the ridge. This was a far worse threat than Drowned Rabbit Gulch, and Sundance couldn't help but feel that they were lucky to spot it. It was right under their noses, in a manner of speaking, but not for much longer. 

"There's so many warrens and burrows." Hennessy's report was delivered in a menacing mechanical growl. "I've got a condition critical indicator… rabies is confirmed!" 

"Your mask can do that?" asked Paradox. 

"That and so much more," replied Hennessy. "We prioritise plague and rabies. Our masks have the means to diagnose it at a distance. Rabbits don't get rabies often, surprisingly enough. I wonder if we have a hot batcave hidden around someplace nearby. We need to purge the area with fire. It all must go. Paradox, I need for you to be very thorough… there is no cure for rabies." 

"Alright, I understand. Cleansing fire it is then." 

"Sundance, we can't afford to put the fire out. At least not right away. We need a controlled burn of the area. We'll need to sacrifice some vegetation if we want to do this right. We might also need to find us a batcave and see what's what. Rabies in bats is overhyped and not all bats carry rabies. It's actually kind of rare. But when you have an outbreak in rabbits, you have a canary in a coal mine situation. If there is a source, we'll need to find it." 

Angling his wings and trimming his primaries, Sundance allowed himself to drop in altitude as he began to circle back around over the hotzone. He would come in low and slow, so Paradox would have plenty of time to carpet bomb the area. As he began his approach for his strafing run, he wondered if there were other semi-hidden places just like this one, and if so, how would he find them? 

"Set the area around the thicket ablaze!" Hennessy's shouted command was distorted with a mechanical rasp. "Form a circle of fire so the rabbits have no place to go!" 

"Right, got it!" 



 

Black smoke poured like reprehensible liquid into the unsullied blue sky. A roaring inferno sent lapping tongues of flame skyward and Sundance was careful to avoid them as he flew through the conflagration. They had to stay low so that Paradox could control the blaze, because magic had range, a limited reach of control. Searing heat formed powerful updrafts that threatened to push Sundance skyward, and he had to fight against them with each pass he made. Each run through the blaze was a learning experience in how to fly during extreme conditions. The fact that he maintained any steadiness at all amazed him, but not so much so that he became distracted. 

A fence of fire had been carefully constructed, and now, the flames moved inward to consume those trapped within. Sundance could see frantic movement in the thickets and brambles, and he could only imagine what must be going on underground. Fire burned on all three sides and impassable stone sealed their fate. A rose of terrible beauty bloomed as Paradox ignited yet another blaze. 

Over the crackle and roar of the flames, one could hear the screaming of rabbits. 

The ground beyond the barrier of fire erupted and a stream of frantic, frenetic rabbits was vomited out of the earth. Just how many came out seemed impossible to count, but they poured out like an endless flood. Sundance moved to intercept them, weaving between the shimmering heat and lapping tongues of flame, and Paradox dropped a fireball upon them. Many died from the blast, but others sprang up from the earth in other places, and Sundance tried to prioritise which direction he should go. 

Rabbits ran in all directions after bursting free on the surface. While fire contained the heart of the warren, the many burrows now posed a serious problem. The fine control that Paradox had while creating the fire barrier was gone now, and replaced with reckless pyromania. Discordant chaos wrought ruin upon the pastoral serenity… 

And then they were not alone. 

There were ponies on the ridge of the plateau; the residential confines of the barony was but a short distance away, even shorter if one crossed the plateau in a straight line, rather than go around the long reach of the canyon's embrace. They were barely visible with all the smoke, but at least one of them stood out: she was brilliantly, vividly, eye-searingly fluorescent, and not even the blackest smoke could obscure her glorious, retina-burning luminescent radiance. 

A group of crystal pegasus ponies flew in a tight formation and Sundance wondered what they were up to. There were intense bursts of incredible heat and concussiveness that threatened to knock him right out of the sky. Sundance found himself navigating an active war zone, and he was forced to pull up so that he and his companions would not get roasted. While he pumped his wings to gain altitude, he saw that the crystal pegasus ponies were gathering clouds, lots of them. 

The bullied clouds darkened as they were herded and pressed into one another. A unicorn went flying past, held aloft by her own telekinesis. Sundance thought it might be Starlight Glimmer, but he wasn't sure—there was far too much chaos to sort out what was going on. Down below, flaming dust devils ran down fleeing rabbits, leaving patches of scorched, blackened earth behind them. 

Then, to the south, he saw the gleaming silver airship rising in the distance… 



 

A drenching rain washed the summertime heat from Sundance's sunny ochre pelt. Overhead, the airship pooted out clouds from its onboard weather factory, which Sunburst said was a defensive measure to keep the ship safe. That it had a practical purpose beyond defense was a happy accident. The torrential downpour had put the fire out and turned much of the area down below into a mess of black mud. Any rabbits that had survived the fire were now surely drowned. 

He spread his wings, gave them a good shake, and then just stood there to soak in the rain. It felt good; the day had grown far too hot and that was without the raging inferno. Quite a crowd had gathered up along the top of the ridge where he stood, and many of his peasants stood gawping down at the mess below. A huge section of the plains had been burned away and for a short time, the fire might have gotten out of control. But the summoned storm drowned the fire, and so all was well. 

"That's good farmland," Hoppy said as she sidled closer to Sundance, but stayed just out of reach of his wings. "A lot of hops and oats and cereals could be grown down there. I think next spring, when it comes time for planting, this is where I'll do it. All that ash is bound to make the soil healthy." 

Though he remained silent, Sundance considered these words. 

"Lots of boulders and stones out there though. All of that will have to go. As soon as it dries out a bit, I think I'll get started. Anything in particular you want done with all those stones, Sundance?" 

He thought about this carefully, unsure as he was of how to answer. Then, he had an idea. "Build a low wall to section off the fields from one another. I mean, I've seen that in postcards. There must be a reason why it's done." 

"That's a good idea," Hoppy said. "Just look at that. Open plains as far as the eye can see. Endless meadows. I want Wort to grow up in a place like this, not the city. Wort likes plants. He says they talk to him, but I think it's his imagination." 

"It might not be," Sundance said. 

"Wort's imaginary friends talk to him too. He'll grow out of it." 

"I can talk to owls," Sundance said to Hoppy in a voice that had turned a bit firm. 

For a moment, Hoppy's mouth opened so that she might respond, but then she must have thought better of it when her mouth closed. She squinted, one eye wide and the other narrow, and then stood there studying Sundance with a critical expression of thoughtful intelligence. She must have arrived at some conclusion, some terminus for her thoughts, because she smiled, and what a smile it was. Warm and vivacious, and more than a little bit flirty. 

"That was exciting!" Almost vibrating, Starlight Glimmer looked this-a-way and then that-a-way, as if surveying the destruction she had wrought. "This trip has been great! First I got to be a crane and then I got to blow stuff to smithereens. I thought this was going to be a snorefest! Most trips with Sunburst usually are." 

"Hey!" Sunburst shouted from some distance away. 

Then, without warning, Starlight Glimmer pronked away, splish-splashing in and out of puddles. For a short time, Sundance watched as the mare muddied herself, and then he returned his attention to the devastation down below. Hoppy moved a little closer, and now almost stood beneath one outstretched wing. Her expression was unreadable, but Sundance expected that she wanted something—though what remained unknown to him. 

"I'm gonna need a lift." Hoppy seemed almost as bashful as she was flirtatious. "I need to see a pony about an airship. And there's the greenhouses. I already have the materials purchased and ready to go. Now that I have land, I have a place to assemble them. Just need to go and talk to a pony about getting them delivered here, to this place. Think I could beg a ride?" 

"I can get you where you need to go," he said to her, and then it occurred to him how this might also be construed. 

"I bet you can." Biting her bottom lip, Hoppy moved just a little bit closer. "The greenhouses are in Fillydelphia. We'll have to assemble them here. Shouldn't be too hard. I've been teaching Double Helping how to be crafty. He's a natural, you know. I mean, he's really good at what he does. He's a good kid." 

"He is," Sundance agreed. 

"Those steam vents are going to allow for year-round growing." About mid-sentence or so, Hoppy's tone changed from flirtatious to businesslike. "It will be downright tropical inside the greenhouses… at least I think it should be. I might get proven wrong. Everypony is excited about the prospect of year-round growing." 

Ears pricked, he listened as the short mare beside him prattled on. 

"Granny and I are going to see if we can rig up the steam turbine from our ship into some kind of power plant. I thought that I'd have to strip it down completely, but Starlight was able to pull the entire thing out of the ship whole, and in one piece. She's kind of amazing. Not sure how we're going to do it, but there are boiling springs we should be able to tap. 

"The turbine was powered by a coal-fired boiler, so all we need to do is just find a new way to boil water without coal. Will certainly be a lot cleaner. Once we have the boiling water we need, I figure the old gal should still make plenty of power. Enough to run the brewery I have planned and probably enough to provide some power to our little town. Not sure what we'll use it for, but we'll have it, and that's important." 

"Sounds like a plan," Sundance said to her. 

"It does. It does sound like a plan." Her tone now awkward, Hoppy shuffled on her hooves. "I'm going to make other plans. Excuse me." 

Before Sundance could say anything, she was already gone, vanished in a flash of light. 
> Not everything works out as planned
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lunch was devoured with the fiercest ferocity, a fevered frenzy caused by his famished state. The vegetable fritters stood no chance against Sundance, who scarfed them up as though he were some great predatory bird. As for the cream of potato soup, he planned to guzzle that right out of the bowl—once it stopped steaming. Something about creamy potato soup made with goat milk pleased Sundance's palate. It was garlicky, rich, creamy, and salty. 

Sunburst, who ate with far better manners, wiped his mouth with his foreleg, his nose crinkled for a moment when he realised what he had done, and then he leaned over closer to Sundance to say, "Never seen a rabbit infestation firebombed before. Usually, gas is used. Or poison bait. Awful business, all of that." 

"We don't have that," Paradox said to Sunburst. "And we don't have napkins either. Sorry about that." 

Almost nodding, Sunburst cast a regretful glance in Starlight's direction, then returned his attention to Sundance. "I've only been here for a short time, but it has been delightful. This place feels like the frontier that you read about in books. That wild and untamed spirit. It's always described as this powerful sense of togetherness, a common and shared goal that brings ponies together. It's great." 

In response, Sundance nodded to be sociable; but he knew nothing about frontiers. 

"The burn will prove beneficial, I think," Sunburst continued, though the subject had changed. "All those nasty brambles and thorns and such have been burned away. Lots of new land cleared. Oh, and I guess the rabbits are gone too. It's all very exciting. Things are mostly humdrum and quiet in the Empire. Except for when they're not. It doesn't feel like a frontier, though. Not like this place." 

"The wilds are shrinking, and this place is an island." Paradox put down her wooden spoon, picked up a golden brown fritter, and then rested both of her front hooves against the edge of the wooden table. "I mean, there's the Everfree, and sure, that's plenty dangerous, but it is smaller. Though I suppose it could be seen as a whole with this place. It is said that there are sections of the Foal Mountains that are still unsurveyed, unmapped. Unexplored. For the longest time, dragons lived in these mountains, but they went elsewhere." 

"When the wilderness is gone, where will the monsters go?" asked Sunburst. "Sure, they're monsters, and yes, they're dangerous. But that doesn't mean that they should go extinct. Some of the monsters of Equestria have gone extinct. I cannot help but feel that we should do something to preserve our monster population. Supposedly, there's less than a thousand manticores left in the wild. What do we do when they're gone?" 

Around a mouthful of fritter, Sundance asked, "Do you want a horde of monsters loitering around the hospital site?"

"Well, no." Frustration could be seen on Sunburst's face, and the mild-mannered stallion seemed bothered by what was said. "That would be counterproductive. A hospital is a place of healing." 

"The wilderness will only get smaller." Even as he said it, Sundance knew this to be true. "Eventually, the mountains will be all that's left. It's hard to build on the mountains. I think that, in time, even the Everfree will be trimmed back so that Ponyville has room to grow." 

Sunburst's spectacles, perched upon the end of his nose as they were, quivered a bit as he shook his head. "This troubles me. Now I have second thoughts about the hospital placement. I know what must be done… but I cannot help but feel that it's wrong to do it." 

"With that in mind, we should talk about the formal proposal after lunch," Sundance suggested. "I am sure that there is still much to be said." 



 

Rain pitter-pattered against the glass skylight, which left Sundance in a relaxed, almost sleepy state. The table—still covered with paperwork that Turmeric fretted over being disturbed—was crowded with ponies and one diamond dog. Pillows were needed; this much was now obvious to Sundance, who had sore butt-bones from sitting on the floor so often. Yes indeed, his butt-bones ached and he feared that he might become a hardass from all this sitting. 

But this was the cost of doing business and he would endure. 

Corduroy, her patchwork beanie down low on her brows, read through the presentation paperwork with keen canine interest. Turmeric sat beside her, and when he brushed up against her, her tail would thump against the floor. Sundance watched them, admired their closeness, their friendship, and quite without warning, he wondered what his grandmother might think about his own relationship with Corduroy. It was with great sadness that he arrived at the unwanted conclusion that his grandmother would not approve. After all, Officer Mom was taught to think and feel this way, and she in turn had passed it along to him. 

"Twilight Sparkle has her own interests in all of this," Corduroy said as she read through the papers given to her. 

"She does," Starlight said with a nod. "When Sundance was told about it, I was busy. But I'm here for the formal presentation, as informal as it might be." She smiled, placed her hoof upon Sunburst's foreleg, cleared her throat, and then squirmed a bit where she sat. 

No doubt to prevent sore butt-bones, Sundance suspected. 

"The Element of Magic would be remiss if she did not seize upon the opportunity for magic to be taught." In the span of an eyeblink, Starlight Glimmer's demeanour underwent a dramatic change, going from warm and friendly to imminently professional. She pulled her hoof away from Sunburst, leaned forward somewhat, and her ears rose into a commanding position. 

"My boss wishes to open a school for magic as applied to medicine. More than just mere alchemy and such, but magic specialised for the field of medicine. Oddly enough, Equestria has no school with this field of specialisation. We have schools of medicine, sure, and we have schools of magic, but the problem is that unicorns who become doctors and surgeons have to attend both, and it is Twilight's opinion that it is prohibitively expensive. She wants a convenient one stop shopping option." 

"The Crystal Empire accepts a lot of students from Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns," Sunburst said when Starlight had finished. "Princess Celestia's school has classes for pre-med and nursing, but it would be advantageous to start them young. By the time we get them, they're all grown up." 

Holding the papers with one paw, Corduroy reached over and scratched behind Turmeric's ears with the other. She seemed thoughtful, contemplative, and Sundance couldn't wait to hear what she had to say about all of this. Beyond that, he wished that somepony or someone would scratch behind his ears, because that would be nice. When he glanced in Starlight's direction, he could not help but notice that she studied him, and he had himself a mirthful moment when he thought about how she might react if she discovered that he thought about ear scratches during such an important meeting. 

Perhaps this was why nopony liked mind readers, and Sundance's absentmindedness made him think of River Raider. It was a pleasant thought; he liked her, quite a lot actually, and he wondered how she was doing. Perhaps he might pay her a visit. She was down in her cellar, all alone, and maybe, just maybe, she might need cheering up—and he was just the pony to do it. At least he hoped he was. River Raider was a grumpy sort. 

"Sundance, this presents a unique opportunity for us," said Corduroy. 

"I'm sure it does," he replied, "but I don't have your grasp of the situation." 

"It gives us something to export." Her triangular ears almost quivered from the intensity of what she had to say. "We'll be taking in a lot of ponies and creatures from the cities under Twilight's plan. Many of which will be low-skilled labourers and workers. But with this, we'll have something to offer the world, a means that will allow residents to leave the barony, if they should so desire to find their way out into the world." 

"Magic is Equestria's greatest resource," Paradox remarked. 

"The school will of course be paid education," Starlight Glimmer said to Sundance, "but your residents will have access to the school without cost. Also, Twilight wants one-hundred percent of the profits from the school to go into the barony's coffers. She sees this as an investment into Equestria's future. Corduroy is correct; this will give your barony a unique export." 

While he stood to benefit from this, Sundance had an inkling that this ultimately wasn't about him. Equestria as a whole would gain from this arrangement, probably in ways that he could barely comprehend. It was already beyond his understanding, the sheer scale and scope of this project flummoxed him. Lost in thought, he could not help but be reminded of his school days, when he was young, and some of his fellow classmates called him 'Sundunce'. If only they could see him now. 

"This will take years to implement." Corduroy's remark caused several heads to turn in her direction. "I mean, I'm stating the obvious here, but by the time everything is up and running, Sundance over there will have some grey. Every one of us sitting at this table will only see the beginnings of this project." 

"Then we have a responsibility to lay down a strong foundation." 

"Well said, Chartreuse." 

"Thank you, Master." 

Filled with a longing for ear scratches, Sundance thought about the sheer immensity of this project, and the fact that it would span generations. A hospital with recovery and research facilities, along with a school. It was a start, but that was all that it was. Something told him that this wouldn't turn his barony into the financial powerhouse that Twilight needed for it to be. It would contribute, sure, and provide opportunity, but it would only be a small part of a much larger whole. 

His butt-bones had a mighty, mighty ache about them. 

"It seems to me," Turmeric began, "that the Equestrian military stands to benefit the most from all of this. Which strikes me as a good thing. But I cannot help but wonder if we could somehow do more to help them? I mean, we're at war. The hospital is a good start. But what else can we do? How can we do our part?" 

"Good question." After he cleared his throat, Sunburst finished his response. "That is up to Sundance to figure out." 

"We seem to be in agreement here," Sundance said to those gathered around the table. "For all of our varied interests and wants, we all have Equestria's future in mind. I don't see the point in drawing all of this out with endless discussion. How do we move forward? How do we take this plan and turn it into reality? What is the first step?" 

"Oh, that's easy," Sunburst replied. "We start by signing contracts and then filling out paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork…" 



 

So this was how empires were maintained and kept in existence. Paperwork. It was clearly what bound the universe together. Written agreements and contractual obligations. Sundance had a sense that they were working towards a common greater good—and not trying to screw each other over. He existed as a nation within a nation, and beyond that a corporation. His demesne was its own sovereign entity, whatever that meant, and he could barely comprehend the obligations that bound them together. But he would honour them, even if he didn't fully understand them. 

So naturally, he felt some sense of alarm when Turmeric made a rather sudden announcement. 

"We're making a mistake." 

Multiple heads turned to look at Turmeric, who held an open folder in front of him. 

"I don't see anything here about lodging or accommodations for family members." 

"Please, explain," Sunburst said in a guarded voice. 

"If I were a recovering soldier, I would want my family there to help me out. After reading all of this, not one mention was made for family accommodations. It feels like a mistake. Am I wrong? Is that not important?" 

Many heads turned to look at Sunburst, Sundance among them. 

"I do believe that something was overlooked," Sunburst admitted.

"This isn't Canterlot or the Crystal Empire." Turmeric closed the folder, set it down upon the floor beside him so it wouldn't get lost among the paperwork on the table, and then he shook his head. "We don't have a whole sprawling city where visitors can seek lodging. I think I have a solution though. Rustic is right now laying down plans for multiple resorts, spas, and vacation lodges. That was the plan that started this whole venture, and why we're here today. We incorporated so that we could protect that plan… that dream. 

"I can talk to Rustic and I'm positive that we'll be able to offer lodging to visiting families, but we're bound to have operating costs associated with that. We might even be able to offer accommodations to poor families, a sort of pay what you can or nothing at all sort of deal, but—" 

"But you'll need to be compensated for doing so," Sunburst said. 

"Yeah, I hate to even mention it…" 

"But it is necessary. I am positive that I can work out something with the treasury department on my end." Reaching up, Sunburst gripped his goatee in his fetlock and gave it a tug. 

"I'm not so sure about my end," Starlight said with an expression of annoyed dismay. "The treasury department hates Twilight. Like… there is an unbelievable amount of hatred there. I wish I could offer some sort of guarantee, but I can't. Twilight might be able to swing something out of her own funds, but I would need to speak with her first before I can commit to anything." 

Ears down, head low, Turmeric glanced around the room but avoided eye-contact. "It is expensive to run a resort. I mean, there's a lot of cost involved. It is not my intent to be greedy, or to cause a delay, but I feel that this is important. We need to sort this out before we commit." 

"And I agree," Sunburst replied. 

Turmeric's ears pricked up a bit, but he still looked pretty dejected. 

"Don't feel bad," Bourgogne Blintz said to Turmeric. "This is an important detail. The bean-counters and planners failed to take the pony element into account. A delay won't hurt us." 

"It is rather embarrassing, actually." Cheeks puffed out, Chartreuse averted her eyes while she let heave a sigh. "We just assume that civilisation is there to pick up the slack. And we don't have that here." 

"We've hit a snag, but this isn't the end of the world. Our project isn't ruined, just delayed." Sundance offered a reassuring nod to his friend, who still seemed rather put out. "Thank you, Turmeric. You've saved us a lot of headache and heartache. Your eye for detail has proved its worth yet again." 

"So what now?" asked Corduroy. 

"We sort this out," Sunburst replied, "and then we start again. This time, with all of our ducks in a row. The project will move forward. Delays should be expected, though I didn't count on one during the proposal phase." 

"So…" Sundance began, "how about we ditch the meeting and go have tea together?" 
> Cognitive dissonance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Corduroy's infirmary was almost a magical place when it rained. Something about the stone cottage became quite cosy, though what caused it exactly was unknown to Sundance. Was it the rain against the windows? The sound of the rain striking the roof? Oil lamps burned in the window sills to hold the oppressive grey outside at bay and there was a certain warmth to be found within the cottage walls that had nothing to do with heat. 

"You asked to see me, Flicker?" 

"I did." While his voice sounded stronger, Flicker did not look well. His eyes though, they were bright, aware, and intimidating. This was a pony who was down—but not out. "Hennessy told me about your airborne adventures, and I wanted to speak with you." 

"What's on your mind?" asked Sundance as he sat down and got settled on a wooden chair. 

"Hennessy told me about the spiders." Eyes almost closed, Flicker's head rolled on the pillows, and his neck made an awful crackling sound. "And about the rabbit bombing. He said you flew in between the flames and incoming shots of webbing. Henny was quite adamant that you showed exceptional air superiourity." 

"Not sure about that," replied Sundance. "Paradox shot at a lot of webbing and—" 

"Let's not tell lies." There was a cold hardness in Flicker's words. "Paradox is a scholar, and not a combat mage. Do away with false modesty. While I am certain she helped, she has no experience with hitting moving targets while standing on a moving platform. Do you have any idea how complicated that is? Don't sell yourself short, Sundance. Most of that was you." 

Unable to refute that, Sundance shrugged. 

"I want to help you help yourself," Flicker said as he turned his head in Sundance's direction. "To that end, I've decided to conscript you into—" 

"No." Shaking his head from side to side, Sundance's jaw muscles contracted so hard that his molars ached from the strain. "I will only serve my land and my interests. I'll not be dragged away to fight in Canterlot. I am needed here." 

"Let me finish." Though it took some effort and no doubt caused him some pain, Flicker held his right front hoof up. "I have the power to conscript ponies into local militias. Trust me, I have no desire to take you away from what is important to you. You fight hard because this is your home turf. But if I conscript you, I can give you the means to defend it." 

"Alright, I'm listening." 

"I give you my word that you'll not get dragged into the Canterlot conflict." 

While that was reassuring, Sundance said nothing in return. 

"I can give supplies to conscripted militias," Flicker said while he allowed his raised hoof to come to rest against the mattress once more. "That's the thing. The sticking point. I can't just give away supplies and material to anypony. There's requisition forms and such. Paperwork. But as a conscript, I can give you gas. Bombs. Devices that will assist your eradication efforts. I can even give you a mask"—he coughed and it was a wet, raspy sound—"though I'm thinking that a pair of goggles might be better for your purposes. Corduroy and Growler have already agreed to be auxiliary alchemists, and I'll be able to supply them." 

Uncertain of how to respond, Sundance reached up and began to rub the scars on the back of his neck while he studied Flicker in silence. His hoof brushed against the leather harness given to him by Grandmother Growler and this jolted his thoughts, though he was unsure of what to think. While he had Flicker's reassurance that he wouldn't get called away, Sundance wasn't so sure that he trusted that. Things happened. Sometimes, promises were broken. Though he knew that conscription and drafting weren't things that you could turn down. 

Flicker had more authority than he did. 

"You have to do it," Flicker said, almost wheezing. "Bourgogne Blintz is already crafting it into your image campaign. The Bomber Baron, who selflessly guards his territory against the vermin menace. All alone, he took up the fight, because somepony had to. At long last, a noble that isn't afraid to do a little hard work and get his hooves dirty—" 

"You bastard. Not only can I not tell you no, but somepony else's work already depends upon me saying yes. You're an utter bastard." 

"Yeah, I kinda am," Flicker agreed. "It's a good image though. A champion of the ponies. The common dullards will eat it up like popcorn." 

"I'm not sure I like this—" 

"It doesn't matter what you like." Flicker's voice was a sociopath's cold whisper. "Doesn't matter what I like. You and I, we're servants of the greater good. Ponies need heroes. Not just to save the world, but to save them. It gives them focus and something that they aspire to be. What we do gives meaning to their shit lives. I'm enshrined, Sundance. You might not understand what this means, but my very existence is tied to the public's belief in me as a hero. That's why I didn't die in Celestia's school when everything turned bloody. The rats couldn't kill me because you can't kill an idea… a belief." 

Everything about this absolutely horrified Sundance, who had no idea what it meant. 

"Now, Bourgogne Blintz does her job right… and enough ponies start to believe in what you're doing here, Sundance… and your life might get just a little bit weird." Eyes closed, his barrel rising and falling with each measured breath, Flicker was clearly in pain but trying to hide it. "It's all part of a calculated risk. Heroes are believed in. That's what makes them heroes. If you want to do what is good, what is right, then you have an obligation to provide. Give others a reason to believe. Now if you will excuse me, I think I might pass out for a while. Go and have yourself a think, Sundance." 

"But I—" 

"Go take it up with that crystal tree you got growing out there," Flicker said while his eyelids fluttered. "Or better yet, Twilight Sparkle… the architect behind this grand plan. She's already got you where she wants you. Me? I'm gonna get me some shuteye. I like this place. It's peaceful." 

Realising it was pointless to try and coax more out of Flicker, Sundance said, "Rest well." 

But Flicker, as it turned out, had a little more left to say. 

"When your friends believe in you, anything is possible. Anything at all. That's Twilight's real power. She's trying to share that power with you, Sundance. With us. With anypony and anyone that will believe. It's not just cute, trite words, but the nature of magic itself. Belief makes things real, Sundance. Badasses and heroes aren't born, they're believed in. Friendship is how it starts… just a few that believe in you… but then it snowballs… and things happen." 

"Get some sleep, Flicker. We'll talk later, if you're up for it." 



 

Of course, the crystal tree held no answers, but Sundance liked to imagine that it did. He stood in the rain, thoughtful, uncertain, and wishing that Cucumber and his grandmother both were here with him. They might have something to say, some answers to offer. But even if they didn't have answers to his questions, they might have reassurance. The crystal tree had grown a bit, but that was no real surprise, as Sundance himself had grown. 

One day, he might have offspring, and the tree would grow even more, for such was the way of things. At least, as he understood them. His blood had gone into the soil, and his mercy into Cucumber. That made the tree sprout. He barely understood it, yet the wondrous miracle existed even if he couldn't comprehend it. Rainwater ran in rivulets down his face, under his eyes, into his ears, and flowed through the furrows of his scars. 

There was a quiet, contentious ache somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. 

What made heroes? 

Were they born, or were they believed in as Flicker had said? 

Try as he might, Sundance couldn't tell why anypony would believe in him. He was naïve. Unknowledgeable. He was most certainly not a learned pony. In hindsight he'd discovered that his mother had filled his head with some garbage, the sort of destructive thinking that made everything worse, and now he lived with the troubling split that his mother was a good pony that believed in bad things. This split could not be reconciled, not in Sundance's mind, and it tore at his thoughts like a barbed sliver lodged in his mind. He wanted to believe that his mother was a good pony, and he clung to that idea even though doing so hurt him in some way that he could not express. 

If his mother was a bad pony because of her ideas, her thoughts, what did that make him? 

Not the hero that others might believe him to be, but a sham. 

A fraud. 

He'd been infected with those troubling thoughts and now he wrestled with them. 

Even now, after all he'd learned, and all the changes he'd made, they still crept up on him, unawares. 

When he tore his gaze away from the crystal tree and looked down at Cucumber's grave, a painful chill permeated the vital space betwixt his ribs. Old Cucumber was a murderer. And a liar, too. A lie of omission. Officer Mom had a lot to say about lies of omission, and Sundance had spent much of his foalhood as a target for his mother's many lectures. For being a murderer and a liar, Cucumber was also a good pony—at least, Sundance desperately wanted to believe that. Otherwise, his own hero was completely unworthy, unfit to be believed in. 

What might his grandmother have to say about all of this? Heroes had stories told about them—stories that may or may not be true. Sundance felt as though he were on the cusp of some great understanding, some epiphany that would forever alter his perceptions and how he saw the world—but it remained frustratingly out of reach. Beyond his comprehension. But he was aware of it, like an elusive firefly that stayed just out of reach no matter how he ran or flew after it. 

Ultimately, it didn't matter how he felt, or what he believed. With a shivery sigh, Sundance accepted this bitter, unpleasant fact. What mattered is what others thought of him, what others believed about him—true or not—and the good that might be accomplished from such a belief. Flicker had the right of it; they were servants of the greater good. 

Just as Cucumber, his grandmother Noonfire, and yes, even Officer Mom served the greater good. Flawed ponies could still do good things. The floodgates were flung wide open, and more than rain washed down Sundance's cheeks. Emotion took the form of a salty, stinging liquid, which poured from his eyes in torrents. Each breath he took threatened to rip him asunder, until at last he could no longer contain his sobs. 

At least the torrential downpour concealed his grief. 
> Redline
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"—again, I wanted to thank you for explaining all of this to me. You've been a huge help, Chartreuse. These past few days have been enlightening." These past few days were more than just enlightening, they were a revelation of sorts, and Sundance was sad to see them end. "Just a few days ago, when we had the formal hospital proposal, I was clueless about this stuff. But now I feel as though I almost understand it. Belief empowers magic… which is both good and bad. It cuts both ways. The good things we believe in are made better for our belief in them, but bad things also gain strength because we're afraid of them. Like those shadowlings you mentioned, and the literal, actual monsters under the bed." 

The fluorescent eyesore nodded. 

Though it was awkward, Sundance dared to bare his heart. "I wish you didn't have to go. There's so much I feel that I could learn from you. And… I think… I rather… like you." 

"Oh, that is flattering," she replied, her tone gentle and soft. "But I cannot stay. I am what I am because I am an apt and eager student. My masters, all of them, have been good to me. I have been blessed with excellent teachers. Sundance, I am glad that I could help you understand yourself, what is going on, and give you a better view of the world around you."

He glanced at the crystal tree for a moment, then back at Chartreuse, and then his gaze fell to the ground. "I've been thinking about what you told me yesterday morning, and I think I understand. When I finally settle down and start a family, I need to raise my young to be the sorts of ponies that others can believe in. That'll keep the tree satisfied and growing. But even though I sorta understand it, I don't know how to go about doing it. Seems so simple, and yet so hard." 

"All you can do," Chartreuse said to Sundance, "is your own part. Just like I can only do my part. And Twilight can only do her part. But if we all do our parts together…" The most important part of her sentence remained unsaid. 

"Then things will work out. I guess. Seems like a lot to leave to chance." 

"Even if things fail spectacularly, the tree will find a way. Even if it means bonding with whatever new blood it finds worthy." 

That wasn't reassuring at all to Sundance, but he said nothing aloud. As much as he liked Chartreuse, he wasn't ready to reveal the depths of his insecurities to her. Her confidence and poise inspired him though, and her gentle sense of command. The fact that she was known as the Iron Duchess only somehow made her more appealing, and he very much wanted to know why she was called that, but she wouldn't tell him the story. 

It might have something to do with the iron fireplace poker she kept in her hat. 

As for her heavy iron shoes, they were a mystery all their own. 

"You have a long trip ahead of you," she said. 

"I do." He nodded, but did little else. 

"Are you up for it?" 

"I'll be fine, but I really should be going soon. It is a long way to Applewood." 

"You must be excited," she said as the hint of a smile appeared upon her face.

"Four more lives," he replied, "of course I'm excited. Four more lives full of potential. Possibly even future saviours of the barony. There's no way of knowing." Once more, he glanced at the crystal tree, and this time, he felt a shuddering jolt ricochet down his spine. 

"Best of luck, Sundance. It was nice to meet you." 

"Thank you, Chartreuse"—for a moment, he feared he might be tongue-tied—"I'm glad we met. I suppose I should be going. Daylight is a-burning, as they say." 

"Indeed, it is," she returned with a slight bow of her head. "May the wind be at your tail, Sundance." 



 

Out of sorts and more than a little bit worried, Turmeric paced (if you could call it that) in a small, tight circle. Round and round he went, his face pinched with worry, until he stopped suddenly to have a good look at Sundance. While the worried unicorn stood looking, Sundance was busy securing and adjusting his harness for the long flight. The sky truck was ready to go and so was Sundance—almost. 

"This is a long way, Sundance. A thousand miles or more. A really long way." 

"I'll be fine." He tried to offer a little reassurance to his friend. "That's a full day's flight. Lots of pegasus ponies can make that flight. Some can even do it in less than ten hours." 

"I'm not worried about them." Legs stiff, neck extended, Turmeric brought himself up to his full height—which might have been impressive if it weren't such an unnatural state for him. As tall as he was, he still had to look up at Sundance, and so the pathetic attempt at dominance was utterly ruined. The tinier stallion shrank back down with a sigh, turned away, and then rolled his eyes in the most dramatic manner possible. "I'm worried about you, birdbrain." 

"That's a hurtful stereotype," Sundance remarked. 

"I've slept in your nest," Turmeric dared say. 

"Why you little…" 

"Take a train, or something. Fly to Ponyville, take a train, pick up your precious cargo, get back on the train, go to Ponyville, and then fly home." 

"On the trip home, I might actually have to stop in Ponyville if I run out of daylight," Sundance said to his friend, whose continued theatrics were more than a little distracting. 

"That's what I'm worried about!" Turmeric puffed up and made every conceivable effort to be taller again, but the results were less than impressive. 

"It'll be fine. I'm flying westward, so I'll have a little extra daylight. Plus, the place I'm going is part of well-lit civilisation. I'll have plenty of lights to guide my way. I think—" 

"You think"—the shorter stallion puffed out even more and his tail whipped the air behind him—"you're not known for your thinking, Sundance! Paradox now has an irrational phobia of pine trees!" 

"If you understand the cause, it is no longer irrational, I thought…" 

"Fine, you brute! Be this way!" Fuming, his sides heaving, Turmeric almost gave Sundance conversational whiplash when he abruptly changed the subject. "When I get back to Canterlot, and Sunburst was nice enough to give me a lift, I'll talk with Rustic about renting or borrowing an airship so that we can take the little ones to a wrestling match. I think it's nice that you're willing to do daddy-stuff for them. Makes my heart feel squishy. I'm also really happy to be a part of that." 

"Are you about to have a panic attack from your attempts to be assertive?" asked Sundance. 

"No!" Turmeric spat out the word a little too quickly, and his refusal carried a bit too much vehemence. 

"Good, because that would delay my takeoff." 

Turmeric deflated, wholly and completely. He became small and meek again, his ears pinned back against his head, and his tail sagged between his hind legs. "You brute, you brute, you horrible brute. How could you?" 

"You make it easy," Sundance replied. "I'm off… to the wild blue yonder. Take care, Turmeric." 

"Goodbye, you horrible brute. Do be careful. No exciting landings." 

"I can't make no promises to that end! I'm off!" 



 

A long red line stretching across the map of Equestria later…



 

A blazing orange sun lingered on the edge of a vast cityscape horizon as Sundance tried to orient himself. Applewood was an endless smear of urban sprawl off to the west, but this little slice of civilisation in the arid shrublands looked nice enough. It was all ranches and farms and touristy dude ranches and movie sets down below, but he had to find one farm in particular, the Cactus Creek Therapeutic Farm. Twilight Velvet had sent a map with aerial photos of the location. It was near the edge of the community, but as sprawled out as everything was, and the vast distances from one homestead to another, it was hard to tell where the community ended. 

The streets, paved blacktop, all blazed orange with the eye-searing light that shone from electric sodium lamps. While there were a few dirt roads to be seen, the wealth of the area was on full display. Not only were there paved roads, but sidewalks too, even out this way, on the very fringes of the settlement. Applewood Hills had cash to burn by the looks of it, and Sundance couldn't help but wonder what the residents thought of some shaggy hick with a sky truck roaming their skies. 

Neat perfectly straight wooden rail fences ran along the lengths of sidewalk and sectioned off individual ranches. Windmills and water towers dotted the landscape. Concrete irrigation canals formed a well-organised grid, all with absolutely perfect right angles. Sprinklers shot out perfect parabolic arcs of water over thirsty crops. No weeds sprouted from the sidewalks and there was nothing that seemed out of place. 

It was almost spooky. 

When he spotted the Prince Blueblood Public Primary School, complete with a statue of the prince himself, he knew that he was close. The school was a huge, sprawling structure, made of concrete, steel, glass, and adobe. Multiple playgrounds surrounded the immense complex, and even now, as the evening loomed, there were lights in the windows. He saw a swimming pool and marveled that a public school could have such extravagance. 

Then, he saw it. Just as Twilight Velvet had mentioned in her note, the flowerbeds couldn't possibly be missed. A riot of colour, even in this twitterlight hour. They had their own runway, which put his crude crash strip to shame. Smooth tarmac awaited him, with brilliant electric lights that perfectly illuminated the airstrip. As he approached, the lights changed, and blinked in an inviting pattern that beckoned to him. The chaser pattern started at one end of the airstrip and slowly travelled the length, indicating his direction of approach. At the far end of the runway there was a tall wooden watchtower, the sort built on struts and scaffolding, and typically used to watch for fires or expected fliers. 

For a foal farm, he found it a bit weird that he saw no signs of foals. 

Circling around, he began his approach, beckoned by the blinking lights… 



 

Two mares awaited him, one an earth pony, the other a unicorn. The unicorn had an oversized glass of something to drink, which sweated and dripped with excessive condensation. When she held it up, the ice cubes within clinked and clunked against themselves and the glass, and this might have been the single-most wonderful sound that Sundance had ever heard in all of his years of existence. 

He was thirsty, and the glass was for him. 

"Lord Sundance," the unicorn mare said to him as he began to undo his many straps. But this, as it turned out, was unnecessary. Her magic illuminated his harness, which fell right off of him. Then, he heard her say, "Welcome to Cactus Creek. We've been expecting you. I am Director Buttergebäck, and this is my devoted assistant, Houseparent Praline Pecan. Are you thirsty?" 

"Very," he replied as he ogled the sweating, dripping glass, and not the two perfect, stunning mares who stood before him. 

Not one hair of their manes were out of place, their pelts were sleek, shiny, and well-groomed. For it being as late in the day as it was, with the day almost over, neither mare seemed particularly tired, or out of sorts. Had Sundance paid more attention, the overall effect might have been unsettling, but he very much wanted whatever was in the glass, no matter what it might be. 

"You flew without stopping." This was not a question. Director Buttergebäck smiled, leaned in closer, and her ears pricked to attention. "Cucumber mint lemonade. Very hydrating. Very refreshing. If you follow me inside, this can be yours. And more, if necessary. Are you hungry, Lord Sundance?" 

"I am," he replied in a voice parched and made gritty by thirst. 

"Your"—she paused briefly—"curious cart will be taken care of. You have no need to worry." 

"Sky truck," he said. "Military issue." 

"Oh"—her pupils became pinpricks, then enlarged—"how quaint. I suppose one must make do with the resources one has. Though I must express my concerns about safety. But we can discuss that later. For now, we must get you hydrated and fed. You are our guest here, Lord Sundance, and we've prepared a bungalow for your stay. Come." 



 

"—the bungalows are for parents who visit their offspring here, and for prospectives such as yourself," Praline Pecan said to Sundance as Director Buttergebäck led the way. "We are a therapeutic facility, a place of healing. We take in troubled tykes and then do everything we can to restore them to good mental health. Please be aware that you will be under observation during your stay. While Twilight Velvet has put in a good word for you, we will be the ones who will ultimately decide if you are a fit caretaker. Please understand this, as the interview process might be stressful." 

"Mrs. Velvet said nothing about an interview—" 

"Good, we have the element of surprise on our side." A wry, flawless smile filled with absolutely perfect teeth spread across Praline Pecan's muzzle. The dappled brown mare chuckled, a soft sound that was somehow soothing, and then she said, "Do try not to worry too much. You wouldn't even be invited here if you weren't worthy. We're good at filtering out the undesirables." 

Something about this unsettled Sundance somewhat, but he said nothing. 



 

The air-conditioning caused him to shiver briefly as he sat down to have his drink. While the interiour of the bungalow was nice enough, there was something about it that made Sundance think of the doctor's office, or some lobby, or a waiting room. The furniture was functional, but institutional. There was nothing frilly, or excessive. Everything was designed to be easy to clean, to maintain. Clean whites, soft pastel blues, gentle greens, and pale yellows. The chair he sat down in was molded blue plastic, with chrome legs, and it was contoured to fit his body. 

Everything seemed perfect and sterile—perhaps too much so. 

After all of his time spent in the wilderness, the electric lights seemed harsh, almost hostile. There was no dirt anywhere to be seen, and the tile floors, a checkerboard pattern of muted yellows and greens, were clean enough to eat off of. A radio made from gleaming white plastic stood in the corner, and beside it was a couch that would have been right at home in a doctor's office or a corporate lobby. 

He could not get the straw between his lips fast enough and the drink was… utterly delicious in ways that his simple mind could not possibly describe. Sitting at the table as he was, he could not help but feel as though he was a foal once more when Director Buttergebäck put down a partitioned cafeteria tray loaded with food before him. She was powerfully maternal, dominating, so much so that Sundance felt the first stirrings of desire even as his eyes roamed his tray to see what was for supper. 

One apple, green, with astonishingly perfect skin; not one blemish could be found. An orange, already peeled and divided into sections. A banana, peeled, and cut into coins. One cookie of unknown variety, but he saw nuts embedded in the surface. There was a sandwich with cucumbers, alfalfa sprouts, weird dark lettuce, and some kind of soft, gooey cheese oozed out from between the inch-thick slices of dark whole wheat bread. One honeydew melon, cut into eighths. Tucked into a corner was a pile of crackers, and beside it, some cheese cut into neat triangles. 

It was the neatest, most organised, most pleasingly perfect presentation of a meal that Sundance had ever seen, and he almost felt bad that he was going to ruin it. Oh, but he would ruin it, and his regrets, if any, would have to be sorted out later. Director Buttergebäck sat down at the table opposite of him, and Praline Pecan sat down upon the couch beside the radio. When he realised that the two mares would watch him eat, he could not help but feel more than a little self-conscious. 

"We are the first facility of our kind," the director said to Sundance. "While there are other behavioural facilities, other asylums and such, and other orphanages, none of them operate in the manner that we do. We are pioneers, and we explore new territory. Our approach to health and wellness is wholly and completely unique. We have lofty goals, Lord Sundance." 

Watched as he was, and somewhat disturbed, he slurped his drink. 

"We take a holistic approach to herd restoration and mental health," Praline Pecan said while she pressed her front hooves together in front of her. "Our precious little tykes are grouped together with like-minded fellows with compatible conditions, and then everything they do is done together. As a whole. They function as their own support group, keep each other out of trouble, and we frequently engage them in trust exercises. As individuals, they might seem troubled, but as a whole group, they are functional. It is very, very important that they remain together. This makes them hard to place for adoption, but you and your situation present a unique opportunity." 

Director Buttergebäck "Indeed. And for you to come with such high recommendations from Director Velvet. This is a serendipitous circumstance." 

"What happens when they grow up?" asked Sundance. "What if life tries to pull them apart?" 

"This is why we are pioneers," Director Buttergebäck replied in cool, calm tones. "It is our sincere hope that they will continue to support one another as adults. We understand that they will be seperated one day, but we hope that the bonds we establish now will hold them together. Our work is based heavily upon herd psychology and Twilight Sparkle's friendship principles. We believe her ideas have merit. This entire facility exists because of her ideas, and the notion that friendship can help to heal troubled souls. Discord was reformed, redeemed, made better… but he stays well because of an extensive support network. There are other tales, other stories of redemption and reformation. We strive to replicate those here." 

Sundance allowed his straw to slip out from between his lips and he raised his head. "Huh." It was about the only response he could think of, and it wasn't much of a response at all. Probably made him appear a bit stupid, and he wondered if he should have responded at all. These were smart ponies, clever ponies, professional ponies—and he wasn't. Reaching out with his lips, he got them around his straw and resumed drinking, never once thinking of how ridiculous he appeared as he did so. 

"We are releasing some of them into the wild, so to speak." Praline Pecan tapped her front hooves together and her eyes narrowed. "Director Velvet feels that the isolation of your barony will be a benefit to our work. We agree. It is a good placement. But let us not get ahead of ourselves, you must still be interviewed. Nothing equinal, just policy." 

Again, the straw slipped out from between his lips. "But I will not be the caretaker, so to speak. I mean, I will, I guess, but we take a communal approach to foal rearing. Hollyhock is our primary caretaker, and she does a great job, but we sorta follow the earth pony tradition. The earth pony way… there is no one singular parent. We all do our part. So I don't know what interviewing me will accomplish." 

"Oh, this is excellent news." Almost smiling, Director Buttergebäck seemed quite pleased. "Director Velvet said that your antiquated settlement might prove useful, but I had no idea that this situation would be this fortuitous. Those in our care are taught to seek out houseparents that they establish trust bonds with… such as Miss Pecan. As part of our holistic approach, we don't assign houseparents to specific groups. We allow natural arrangements to happen. With our approach, we've had higher incidents of unexpected success." 

Some of Sundance's landings could be considered 'incidents of unexpected success' as well, and this gave him pause. It seemed to him that a lot of this was left to chance. Circumstance. Who was he to judge? If it worked, why criticise? While he had no understanding of what went on here, he understood the nature of risks. He was a born risktaker, much to his mother's dismay and his father's disappointment. 

"I would like to hear more of what you do here," he said to his hosts. 

To which Praline Pecan replied, "And we would love to tell you."
> Interview
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

War troubled Sundance, more so now that he had a better, broader understanding of it. Head bowed down, he stood beneath the shower and allowed himself a luxurious soak. His head was full of everything that he'd learned last night, and this knowledge had cost him some sleep. How long had he laid awake and stared up at the ceiling? Understanding was a dangerous thing, and a bell could not be unrung. 

The whole of the world was at war, in some form or another, and wars produced orphans. Not just any orphans, but troubled orphans. These orphans grew up to be troubled adults, and in war-ravaged nations, these adults exacerbated a whole host of problems and extended the time needed for the nation to recover. As bad as this was, as awful as this was, it was now made worse by the fact that the world had grown smaller. Orphans and refugees regularly crossed the oceans, the seas, and found themselves in Equestria. These tortured tots grew up, and so the problems of other nations became Equestria's problems. It was a drawback to compassion. 

A whole flood of refugees arrived on Equestria's shores daily, seeking some place of solace, some shelter from the world that spiraled into chaos. Unless something was done, all these young ones would grow up to become Equestria's next generation of adults—and then there would be trouble. Real trouble. So healing these tribulated tykes was now a priority; Equestria's very future was at stake. 

And Sundance, at his own request, had been made to understand all of this. 

He wished he hadn't. 

His brain just wasn't big enough to hold all of this in, as evidenced by the pressure just behind his eyes, a sort of throbbing pulse that threatened to uncork his eyeballs and let all of his head-wine go pouring out. It would trickle down his nose, blood-red, and then swirl down the drain of the shower. When his head was full like this, it put him in a lousy mood. It made him worry about things like his eyeballs uncorking. Some problems were just too big to fit into a common pony's head, and this was one of them. 

Corduroy would understand this problem, and probably have something meaningful to say about it. But she wasn't here. He tried to steer his thoughts away from the trouble ahead, but failed, and started to wonder what his grandmother might think of this, or his mother, and yes, even his father. While he didn't know how his grandmother might think of this, he knew that his mother didn't have a high opinion of immigrants. They arrived here by the boatload, caused problems, begged for help, and contributed to the crime statistics. 

As for his father… Sundance had no idea. 

His thoughts lingered upon his mother. Officer Mom saw the worst that ponies and others had to offer. It was the nature of her job. She was a cop, and as such, she only saw creatures at their respective worst. This in turn coloured her perceptions and reinforced her opinions, her views, and beliefs. There would be no way that he could convince her that she was wrong, as she would only cite everything that happened on the job. 

Wait… did he want to prove his mother wrong? 

Astonished, he swallowed and raised up his head. Yes, yes he did want to prove his mother wrong. He wanted to find something that would shake up her world view and rattle her opinions, just as his world view and his opinions got all shook up. Hot water poured down into his ears and stung his eyes. He wanted his mother to meet Corduroy, but more than that, he wanted his mother to meet Corduroy and admit that she was a good dog. 

More than anything, Sundance wanted his mother to acknowledge that his views were valid. 



 

The thermometer was a little plastic sculpture of Princess Celestia and the bright red mercury had already traveled up the length of her horn, almost to the tip. It was chintzy, tacky, tawdry even, and Sundance thought it was just perfect. It stood perched atop a metal spike, which was poked down into the decorative flower bed that was beside the path that led out to the bungalows. 

"Hello there." 

Glancing in the direction of the voice, Sundance saw a timid pegasus mare. She was resoundingly normal, and nowhere near perfect, which was something of a relief. Something told him that she didn't work here, and filled with curiousity as to why she was here, he gave her all of his attention. She was thin, leggy, and the colour of muted turquoise. More than anything else, she seemed afraid. Of what, he did not know, but he hoped she wasn't afraid of him. 

"Hi," he said at last after he remembered that his mother had raised him to have manners. "Good morning." 

"It's so hot already," she said in an attempt to make small talk. "My name is Sassy Squalls. I'm here to have a therapy session with my son. I have to change if I want to help him. It's all very overwhelming." 

"I'm sure it is," he replied. "Tell me about it." 

"My son developed behavioural problems in school after his father left," she said, practically blurting out all the words at once. Distraught, she frowned, blinked once, took a deep breath, and this time, when she spoke, it was slower and clearer. "My son became a bully. He's getting better though. At least that's what I'm told. His aggression is being reconditioned into leadership skills and the protection of others. I hope he can come home someday." 

Unsure of what to say, but fearing that anything he might say might seem insincere, he nodded. 

"What about you? Why are you here? Do you have a son? A daughter?" 

"I'm here to adopt," he said unabashedly. 

"Oh." Some of her timidness went away, her eyes widened, and the corners of her mouth had a dramatic upturn. "Oh, I've heard a little about the program that they have here. Cute, adorable, cuddly little refugees that have suffered so horribly. Oh, it's terrible what happens. I've read the pamphlets they keep around here. You adopt them in groups, right?" 

"That's my understanding." 

"You're a good pony for doing that. Good on you." 

A hot flush threatened to raise blisters on Sundance's neck, and he shuffled in place as he tried to cope with what the mare had just said. It felt awkward for some reason, but it also felt good. Yes, it felt good to have one's goodness recognised by others, but this wasn't the reason why he did it. He did it because it was the right thing to do, and because it allowed his barony to prosper. The fact that he helped others was secondary—but it still felt good, no, great… it felt great to have others recognise it. 

A plump chicken went strutting past, followed by a parade of yellow chicks. 

"I'm Sundance, by the way. Sorry, it slipped my mind." 

"Oh, I'm nervous too. I don't have any coping skills. What about you?" 

"Uh"—just how did he answer this without making himself look bad—"I dunno, I just sort of somehow manage. My friends get me through the tight spots." 

"Would you like to go and get breakfast with me?" she asked. "I don't like going into the cafeteria alone. Makes me think of my school days. Not a good thing." With a quick turn of her head, she averted her eyes and appeared to be looking at the Princess Celestia thermometer. "I think I'd rather not eat than have to go in there alone. I'm sorry, please don't feel guilted into this. I can't help it."

"I had some awkward days in school too," he said, and was more than a little surprised at what had just come out of his own mouth. "Never fit in. Truth be told, I didn't make much of an effort. Couldn't talk to girls." 

Eyes bright, moist, almost brimming with barely contained liquid, Sassy Squalls' smile of gratitude was somehow more radiant than the early morning sun. Her hooves made clip-clop sounds as she pranced in place, and her wings rustled as they slapped against her sides. She did nothing to hide her excitement, her enthusiasm, and there was something suddenly schoolgirlish about her. But her happiness, her joy, it was infectious, and Sundance couldn't help but feel better about life in general. 

"Thank you," she said to him. "Thank you so very much." 



 

"Thank you," Sassy Squalls said as she stepped away from the door, because standing in front of a door to converse was incredibly rude. "Thank you so very much. It was nice to enter the cafeteria and not feel like everypony was judging me when I walked in. And even if they were, they saw me with you… a handsome fella. You were the perfect gentlepony." 

Sundance, also mindful of the door, stepped aside as well. 

"You're not like other guys," she said to him in a much lower voice. 

"I'm not?" As much as he didn't want to be, he found himself intrigued, and he wanted to hear more about himself from the perspective of another pony. 

"You're not." She moved aside a little more, a little further over onto the patio, until she stood beneath the eave and out of the sun. "You… you keep your ears back, mostly. You don't walk around with your withers squared. This makes you approachable. And not to sound tribalist, but it is especially true with pegasus fellas. It's like some of them just walk around looking for a fight. All that dominance. But you're not like them." 

For a moment, Sundance was taken back in time, and his memories placed him back in school once more. After a few seconds were lost to contemplation, he asked aloud, "I wonder if that's why I got called a sissy in school." Then, as he thought more about it, he realised that Turmeric and Rustic both also kept their ears back and maintained a more submissive posture. It made him think a great deal about himself, and he wondered how others must see him. 

"It was nice having breakfast with you," she said to him. "The therapy session starts at eight, so I really must be going. Best of luck with your adoption. Goodbye, Sundance." 

"Goodbye, Sassy. Good luck with your son. Don't give up. I'm sure he'll come around. He has an excellent mom." 

Her face reddened beneath her turquoise pelt. For a moment, it seemed as though she might say something—she stood there chewing on her bottom lip—but whatever words waited in the wings failed her. As she retreated, she kept her eyes on him, and for whatever reason, he kept his eyes on her sooty eyelashes, which begged to be explored in great detail. He watched her go and she left with whatever final words she had in mind left unsaid. Sundance too, found himself tongue-tied, but he knew that he would recover from this—eventually. 

As one mare hurried away, another approached. 

"Mister Sundance, I am Houseparent Jewel Jangle. Would you please come with me?" 

The somewhat-older-but-showed-no-signs-of-her-age mare stood there, blinking at him expectantly, and Sundance could not help but feel that she was artificial somehow. Not a hair out of place. It was already approaching one-hundred degrees and she didn't even appear to be sweating. Nothing on her body sagged, she appeared to be svelte and trim by any standard, and muscles rippled under skin that was as taut as a drum. 

Unable to help himself, he stared at her—no, he gawped at her—and tried to understand the mystery before him. She was one of the perfect ponies of Applewood, by the looks of it. Sassy Squalls certainly wasn't one of them, and he found that he prefered her imperfection. This mare who stood before him now had a million-bit smile, and he wondered if she ever used her perfect teeth for chewing—or any activity really other than smiling. 

"Is something wrong, Mister Sundance?" 

"No," he was quick to reply. "Nothing wrong. Just a bit hot… I guess. It's warm here." 

"It's a dry heat," she said to him, still smiling her perfect plastic smile. "You get used to it. Apply plenty of moisturiser, or you'll turn leathery. Remember the words of the Guru: 'Sympathise and moisturise if you wish to live a happy life.' Words to live by." 

"Uh, yeah, I suppose they are." He had no idea who this 'Guru' was, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. "Lead the way. I'll follow." 

"Excellent, Mister Sundance. Allow me to lead the way!" 



 

The walls were pale powder blue, almost the same shade as bureaucratic colour-coded paper. Everything was trimmed with naked glossy pine wood that had a rosy golden glow; the furniture and the window frames all matched the trim and did so with exquisite perfection. Overhead, the ceiling was painted in a shade of off-white that held more than a hint of blue to it. The floor—polished to a mirror finish—was tiled in blue and white. Something about the room made Sundance feel intense discomfort, the sheer sterility of it all. 

The two ponies present certainly didn't help either. 

"I am Gleeful Gambol," the earth pony said in dreadful deadpan to introduce himself. "And that is my assistant, Silent Satisfaction. She will be writing down your responses and logging her many observations. As for myself"—he inhaled—"I am an empath and trained in the Crystal Empire. An empath is not a telepath. I can't read your mind, only your feelings. I'll know if you are lying to me, or if you give me a response that you think I'll want to hear. Be honest, utterly and completely, and there won't be a problem." 

Sundance couldn't help but notice that Gleeful was anything but. 

"Do you have any questions before we begin, Mister Sundance?" 

"Not particularly," he replied. 

"Fantastic. Do sit down. Be comfortable. Right there, in front of the desk so I can see you and read your body language." Gleeful's voice had something of a nasal quality, as if he had a kazoo stuck in his sinuses. "Go on, do have a seat." 

With a hurried rush of movement, Sundance did as he was bid. 

"Your responses will be studied in an academic setting," Gleeful said. "If you do not agree with this, you are free to leave. Do you understand?" 

"Um, I'm fine with this." No matter how he tried, he couldn't get comfortable upon the wooden chair, which Sundance was certain was designed to be a pain in the hindquarters. 

"Good. Good." The kazoo quality of Gleeful's voice intensified. "Take all the time you need to answer. Think about what you wish to say. We are in no hurry here. Do you understand?" 

Kazoo, Sundance thought to himself as he nodded. 

With Gleeful in front of him, and Silent behind him, Sundance couldn't help but feel a bit of tension. Not much, not yet, but his anxiety manifested as a tightness in his guts. Breakfast gurgled a bit and he wondered if he should have eaten seconds and thirds. The fried oatcakes with rosemary honey glaze were delicious, and he'd gone all in with no sense of restraint. Now, of all the worst possible times, he had himself a case of gurgle guts. He was a scared colt in school taking an exam once more, and this was beyond terrible. 

Yes, this was a special sort of Tartarus, but at least he could sort of talk to girls.

Eyebrow arched, Gleeful seemed studiously alert. "Why are you here today, Mister Sundance?" 

A question with an obvious answer. Aware of his own sarcasm, Sundance sent it away, shimmied on his chair to try and find some comfortable position that he might have somehow missed, and he couldn't but be curious as to what Gleeful thought of him right now. Surely the gurgle in his guts was audible, and from the way he squirmed in his seat, it probably appeared that he was plagued with the most terrible of all pegasus maladies—The Poots. 

Once, when he was young, after he'd just cracked one off in class that very nearly killed his classmates, his teacher had asked him what that was. It was obvious what that was, and his teacher, a stern, strict mare, had a reputation for destroying foals with detention and demerits. Doomed as he was, and knowing that there would be no saving himself, he'd replied with as much cool confidence as his squeaky-voiced self could muster: "Oh, that's just some asshole behind me talking shit." 

Officer Mom's reaction to his behaviour was as opposite of amused as a pony could be. 

"I am here today because Twilight Velvet sent me here to adopt some troubled tots. I have an established history as a yes-pony, so here I am. Just doing as I was told. If you tell me to be good to the tots, I'll do that too. Just how I am." 

Leaning over his desk, Gleeful turned the full force of his deadpan expression upon Sundance. His chair creaked and the earth pony's eyebrow arched just the teensiest bit more, barely even registerable except by the most observant of ponies—and pegasus ponies in general. Sundance saw it and immediately wondered if he'd just blown the interview. Behind him, he could hear a pen scribbling and scratching words onto paper. 

"As a father, what do you hope to accomplish?" 

The question seemed a bit vague. A bit too open-ended. Accomplish what? Send a foal off to college? Just what was fatherhood, anyhow? A trophy that proved that one procreated and then bravely stuck around to face the consequences of one's own actions? Well, not in this instance, because he was adopting. Did one become a father because it felt good, or because one wanted to establish a legacy? He wasn't even married yet, so just what was he doing adopting? This was putting the sky truck before the pegasus. 

"I'll be a caretaker," Sundance said with great care. "While I'll be involved, I'm not sure if I qualify as a father. Ultimately, I am doing this to secure the future of my barony." 

More scritchy-scratching could be heard behind him. 

"I suppose that we'll skip ahead to more relevant questions." His nostrils broadened and Gleeful's eyes offered no hint to his mood. "A foal becomes possessive; they take the toys of others and refuse to share. What do you do?" 

"Well, I would hope that their primary caretaker, Hollyhock, would do her job." 

Nothing on Gleeful's face moved but his thin lips. "But this is about you. What would you do?" 

The trickle of sweat in Sundance's left wingpit tickled, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Well," he began, thoughtful, "I suppose that I would pull them aside, and give them a good talking to. I would try to impress upon them the importance of sharing… and caring. Do I sound incompetent right now? Because I'm pretty sure that I do. I'm not sure what this interview accomplishes. I mean… well… I mean, I'll be somewhat involved as a caretaker, but I'll be more of a friend. It feels like I can only give bad answers." 

"A foal refuses to go to bed, and furthermore, their protest disrupts the sleep hygiene of others. They are adamant that they will not quiet down and go to sleep. What do you do?" 

For only the briefest of moments, Sundance thought of duct tape. 

"Uh"—he hesitated, uncertain—"first thing I would do is get them someplace away. Someplace quiet. So the others could go to sleep. Wouldn't want that sleep hygiene disrupted. Once I had them somewhere quiet, I uh, well, um, I think I would start asking questions?" Aware of the mental metaphorical question mark that followed his words, he demanded that his brain do something. 

"I'd ask them if they were afraid of something under the bed, or if something was bothering them, or if they needed to pee, or wanted a glass of water. I guess I'd try to find the cause of the issue, because there's no sense in punishing them or being upset if they don't want to go to bed. If they just couldn't sleep, I would try to do something to tire them out, I suppose. Or maybe read them a story. Maybe there's a real problem… and you shouldn't punish them for something they can't help." 

Pee? Really? Why hadn't he said 'urinated'? 

"A foal requests assistance for an issue regarding their genitals. How do you respond?" 

Before he could respond, Sundance's stomach beat him to it, with an audible gurgle that surely could be heard in the next county over. For a few seconds, he found it downright impossible to breathe, and when he could do so again, he found it rather difficult. The wooden chair he sat on somehow grew even more uncomfortable, and Sundance concluded that perhaps he wasn't ready for the whole parenthood thing. 

"I… well, I uh, well… I would find some way to help them. That question is too vague for me to say much else." 

"A foal becomes dispondant, unresponsive, and withdrawn. How do you help them?" 

This question was almost a relief after the last one, and Sundance sucked in a huge lungful of much-needed air. "I talk to them. Maybe try to bribe them with cookies. But I do what I can to find out what's going on, and what's causing them to be sad. Wait, despondent means sad, right? Every kid gets sad sometimes. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do but wait it out. But I would try to be there for them until it passes." 

"A foal commits arson and must be punished. What measures do you feel are necessary?" 

At that moment, the spectre of Officer Mom arrived, and Sundance grew uncomfortably sweaty. The clenching of his tailhole proved to be a powerful distraction and he wished that his body would behave. To answer this, he felt he needed more information, but before he asked his questions, he took the time to choose his words with great care. 

"What sort of foal am I dealing with?" 

"Just answer the question, Mister Sundance." 

"I can't." He folded his forelegs over his barrel because he didn't know what else to do with them and then sat up as straight as possible. "If I am dealing with an earth pony foal or a pegasus pony foal, I'd have to figure out how they caused the fire in the first place. It's not impossible, but I live with a sizable population of earth ponies, and they have some real trouble lighting candles and oil lamps, let me tell you. Which is why a unicorn was needed to keep the lights on, and there's an evening ritual to make sure the fires and lamps are lit. 

"Now, if I am dealing with a little unicorn, I suppose I would correct his behaviour and then encourage the little firebug to burn the things I want burned. Like… unwanted brush, brambles, and bunnies. Yeah, I'd put the little pyromaniac to work for the betterment of the barony." 

Gleeful's eyebrow quivered almost imperceptibly. 

"Not every problem behaviour is a problem," said Sundance with some sense of smugness. 

"A foal keeps swearing and using unacceptable tribal slurs. How do you apply cessation to this unwanted behaviour?"

Upon hearing this, Sundance frowned. Of all the things he feared, tribal tensions scared him more than just about anything. If left unchecked, they could ruin his barony. He reached up, scratched at the scars on the back of his neck, and gave serious thought to what he might do in this situation. Then, with much relief, he had himself the answer. Not just any answer, but the best answer. 

"I warn them about Corduroy and her dislike of potty mouth. And then I leave them to their fate."

Wearing a quizzical expression, Gleeful asked, "Who or what is Corduroy?"

Sundance realised that his answer made Gleeful ask a question, and he felt accomplished. 

"She's a two meter tall diamond dog. My nurse. Likes cleanliness. And takes no guff. I can save a foal from all manner of trouble, even an owlbear, but there's no saving them from Corduroy." Fearing that Gleeful took all of this in the wrong way, Sundance offered up a bit of clarity for the sake of charity. "I'm pretty sure that she'd scrub the potty mouth right out of them. She's threatened to do that to me. Let me tell you, that dog, she loves to scrub. She's ridiculously happy when she's scrubbing something or somepony, and her tail wags. But it feels like she's about to scrub your skin right off, and oh boy, is it ever an experience. You don't forget it." 

"I see." Something about Gleeful's voice suggested that he was unsettled. 

"She's great, my nurse. She gave me mouth to mouth and kept me alive after I got a lethal dose of giant spider venom. Spider season was exciting this year at the barony." Then, Sundance was truly inspired. "If you happen to know any pyromaniac foals, do you think you can send them my way? I want to be prepared for spider season next year. Give those spiders what they deserve." 

Gleeful's kazoo deadpan wavered slightly when he asked, "A foal bites you. What do you do?"

"Well, I don't bite them back," Sundance was quick to reply. "I guess I try to sort out why they're angry enough to bite? In my experience, foals aren't vicious. Something would have to be really wrong to make them bite. I'd help them, and not be angry. Maybe they've gone mustang, as the expression goes. If that's the case, I'd risk being bit to help them. I've stared down the gullet of an owlbear… a foal can't be that dangerous." 

"A foal with a history of lying and false claims makes troubling accusations of a sexual nature about a loved one or a member of your household. What do you do?" 

This gave Sundance serious pause, and he almost blurted what was sure to be a terrible answer. He reined himself in though, collected his calm, took a deep breath, and more than anything else, he held his emotions in check. This was a loaded question for certain. What would he do? How did one trust a lying liar? A foal that cried wolf? An accusation of molestation was impossible to ignore, but the chance of hurt feelings over a false claim were sure to cause a firestorm of emotion. 

He knew how to answer. 

"I would seek out River Raider. She's a"—the words night terror almost slipped out, but he somehow managed to hold them in—"nocturnal pegasus. She's a nocturnal pegasus and she can read minds. She's an actual telepath. I would seek her out and find out the truth of the matter right away, and then I would act accordingly once I knew what the deal was." 

Even though he'd answered well, or believed he did, the question left him too jittery to sit still. Sundance tried to bestill his thudding heart, but the painful pounding would not subside. There was another gurgle from his guts and then, without warning, he had a nearly unquenchable desire for a cup of tea. Not just any cup of tea, but something that would make the spoon stand erect. He also wanted to hear his father's voice, because that would be mighty reassuring right about now, even if his father didn't say more than a word or two. 

It occurred to him that he wouldn't be leaving today; he'd never make it home before dark. 

"A foal displays homosexual tendencies and shows an interest in the same sex. How do you respond?" Gleeful's deadpan was now extra-cold, frosty even, and his voice put the dead in deadpan. 

Caught completely off guard, Sundance thought of his own foalhood. Was it wrong to think of himself, he wondered. He did everything he could to keep his expression neutral, but he knew he failed. When he tried to breathe, it got caught in his windpipe, and his barrel hitched a few times while he strove to recover. Out of all the questions, this was the worst one, and even though he hadn't said a word, the fear of failure soaked his wingpits with excessive moisture. 

His vision blurred for a brief time, his eyes stung, and his stomach rudely informed him that if this kept up, breakfast would face violent eviction. All of his frogs turned clammy, cold even, and he shivered from the sensation of phantom frost. Gleeful Gambol was perfectly still, almost a statue, and Sundance couldn't recall when the earth pony had blinked last. This moment seemed to stretch into a brief eternity, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could bear it. 

"I would… I would"—his own words were almost his undoing as he nearly choked—"introduce them to Uncle Rustic and Uncle Turmeric. They're my friends. Both of them are gay… the sort of gay that invents new stereotypes… the sort of gay that makes new jokes about being gay. Both of them are a bit lispy and when they get excited or argue it sounds like a steam boiler about to let go. More than friends… I love them dearly. 

"But I would introduce them to my best friends, and I would tell them that they are special, and that everything was normal, and that everything was fine, and that there was nothing to worry about. Even if she were a filly, I'd still do this, because I don't think good role models are restricted by gender. And I, uh… I have so much more that I want to say, but I would be gushing and not giving an answer." 

The deadpan mask over Gleeful's face held, but something in his eyes changed. Then, bit by bit, the mask cracked to reveal some strong emotion. A quiver in the corner of his mouth. The flutter of his left eyelid, accompanied by a twitch of his left ear. Movement in his neck as he swallowed. Sundance watched as it all came apart and knew that they were having a moment together. 

"I wish somepony had done that for me," Gleeful said in somber tones. "At the risk of allowing my professionalism to lapse, but with the hope of making an equine connection, I wish somepony had done that for me. My father put me in a mental hospital. I was treated for mental illness." He sighed, a short interlude, and then added, "It messed me up. I went to the Crystal Empire to get help. To get better. My treatment was to help others… which has done a lot for me. Because of what was done to me, I lost my connection to my fellow equines, and I became an empath to restore it. For whatever it's worth, I think you'll make a fine caretaker." 

Sundance, who did not know what to say, tried to think of useful words, but failed. 

"The purpose of this interview was to establish how you deal with pressure, and I think we've done that." A sad smile manifested upon Gleeful's muzzle, and there was something hopeful in his eyes. "You'll have my recommendation, Mister Sundance. Congratulations, you've passed the first stage of the gauntlet. You've kept a remarkably level head and maintained your wits. When and if a crisis comes about, I think we can reasonably assume that you'll find some way to manage it." 

"Thank you," Sundance managed to say. 

"I think we both need some time to collect ourselves. Will you be alright?" 

"Will you?" asked Sundance. 

"Oh, I have hope for the world. I'll be fine. There's good ponies in the world." 

"I… I do my best to be one of them." 

"And I believe that. Thank you for your time, Mister Sundance." 

"You're welcome…" 
> Perfection presented
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Entire flocks of airships passed overhead, many of them luxurious yachts. Sundance watched them, his head in the clouds with them, while his heart felt too heavy to fly. He needed an airship too. Not for wealth, or ostentatious display like the ones in the clouds above him, but something that would make the isolation of his barony a bit more manageable. Even a complete junker might be fun, but then he thought of Hoppy's old clunker and reconsidered. That ship was now in pieces, and its various parts would find new life in the barony. 

Lost in thought, he thought of airship adventure movies, a staple of his foalhood. Adventurous captains who braved the open skies. Tense moments of thrilling combat as ships played hide-and-go-seek among the clouds. That world in the movies, almost all of them, was a world of sky where land just didn't exist. A sea of clouds and blue that stretched endlessly in all directions. It was an idealised existence; it wasn't a world with sky, the sky was the world, and pegasus ponies dominated these vast, uncharted expanses. 

Earth ponies and unicorns were confined to the ship, but pegasus ponies were free to roam. 

Then, for the first time, Sundance wondered if these beloved movies of his foalhood were somehow tribalist. Hoof raised, he stroked his chin and thought about how mutinous earth ponies and unicorns were thrown over the rail… certain death awaited them. There was nothing below but emptiness. For that matter, where did food come from? And coal. He thought of how the ships pooted out tremendous clouds of sooty smoke, often in the most dramatic manner. Long panning shots done in slow motion of billowing smog, which sometimes had evil, distorted faces. 

Chickens had gathered around Sundance and pecked for bugs in the flowerbeds. He paid them little attention—his eyes were skywards—but had he been more observant, he might have noticed that he was a rooster among the hens. It might have made him laugh… but his thoughts were elsewhere. Songbirds flitted from branch to branch in the strange trees that Sundance was utterly unfamiliar with. They serenaded him with trilling songs, but he failed to notice. 

"Mister Sundance—" 

It was Houseparent Jewel Jangle. 

"—are you enjoying yourself?" 

"I am, actually." 

"Good. Good. I am told that your interview got a little rough near the end." 

"It did." 

"May I ask how you are feeling now?" As she drew near, the clucking chickens clustered closer to Sundance. 

"You may," he said with mild sarcasm, and then was quick to add, "I'm fine. Just watching the ships go by." 

She did not sit down upon the green grass with Sundance. No, grass stains and perfection did not mix. Sundance wondered if he should perhaps stand, but then decided that he couldn't be bothered. He did sit up a little straighter though, and he tucked his wings against his sides. Jewel Jangle was a model specimen of the earth pony tribe and Sundance couldn't help but feel a confusing attraction for her. When and how she found time to work out baffled him, but clearly, even with her career, she did. The almost masculine hard angle of her jaw secured his attention, and almost unbidden, he wondered what it might be like to be nuzzled by her. 

"Do you like what you see?" she asked, and there was nothing at all flirtatious about her question. 

"I am mostly confused by it," he said with blunt honesty. "So many perfect ponies in one place." 

"We strive to be the best possible version of ourselves that we can, as instructed by the Guru. Lives of servitude, a regimen of diet and exercise, and a belief that perfection is possible, but only at a cost. And that cost is a strict adherence to harmony." 

"Just how is perfection possible, exactly?" asked Sundance. "I'm sorry, I just don't see that being the case." 

"The Guru was inspired by the Crystal Heart of the Crystal Empire." Jewel's words now seemed like a well-rehearsed spiel rather than anything she might say on her own. "He saw how the crystal ponies became transparent and took on a pleasing glow when filled with love and harmony. For him, he saw it as a perfect state of being, and was inspired. We may not glow, but we can be radiant. But to be so, our hearts and bodies must be in balance." 

"Huh." Maybe there was something to it, but Sundance couldn't wrap his mind around it. 

"You and I, we're not that different," Jewel said, and now when she spoke her words seemed more her own. "We aspire to be great servants, do we not? If only we had more to give than just our lives. I know about you. Heard some stories. Read your file. You flew an injured mare into Canterlot during one of the worst storms on record, and did so at great risk to your own life. You took on the worst barony in Equestria… in Applewood, we would call it the ghetto of baronies. Your dedication is admirable." 

"But I don't strive for perfection." 

"Oh, I beg to disagree. I think you do." 

"My outsides are far from perfect." While these words left his mouth, he thought of his back. Then he thought of his everything, and was more than a little embarrassed to do so. "I don't think my innards are much better." 

"But you strive, and that, that is admirable. Say what you will, Mister Sundance. There is no way for you to change my mind." 

"Not sure how I feel about that." 

"You are one of the chosen of Princess Celestia." Jewel bowed her head and her ears went limp against her temples. "She is a being of great wisdom and virtue. Infinite wisdom and virtue. Surely she would not make a mistake. The mere fact that she chose you makes you a worthy being. A chosen being. You bear her blood, and through you, she channels her will."

Though he regretted doing so, Sundance held his tongue. He was in scary territory. Even though this place was rather unsettling, he knew that these were good ponies who did good things. At least, his heart suggested that this was true, and he was inclined to trust his heart. It was his tongue that oft-betrayed him. Really, who was he to judge? These ponies were entitled to believe whatever they wanted—just so long as what they believed did no harm to others. 

But he found the notion that he might be somewhat worshipped to be troubling. 

"Does something bother you?" asked Jewel, who raised her head to look Sundance in the eye. 

"I just feel out of my element," he blurted out, and he immediately regretted doing so. 

"You were called to greatness, and now you stand among common ponies. It is understandable. It must be difficult." 

"Uh… no… no"—he shrugged uselessly with both his wings and his withers—"no, that's not it. That's not it at all. You know what, nevermind about me. I just want to focus on why I'm here. I'm supposed to haul a truckload of kids home. Can we get on with that?" 

"Your humility, humbleness, and single-mindedness to your cause is inspiring and admirable. If only more ponies were like you." 

Ears hot, his heart now racing, Sundance held his tongue. 

"Come, there is much to discuss. Follow me, Sundance, and look upon my pleasing perfection if you should so desire…" 



 

"Welcome to the Night Nursery," Jewel Jangle said as she pushed open the double doors. 

What existed beyond was nothing at all like what Sundance expected. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, all shades of blue. Everything was well-lit, and wasn't dark at all as one might expect from a place named the Night Nursery. It was cool here, but not cold, and vivid rays of sunlight shone through the overhead skylights. Frozen in place, Sundance was unable to pass through the doors, and just stood there, open-mouthed whilst he took it all in. 

"We find that some of the little ones are calmer with the colour blue," Houseparent Jewel Jangle said to Sundance as she too, came to a stop. "We built this place to Princess Luna's exacting specifications. She's learned much about psychology through dreams, and her many experiments yield beneficial results. This is a refuge for the anxious, the anxiety-ridden, and those with intense nervous disorders. Ponies say that if you are depressed, you are blue, but that's just not true. Not in a clinical setting, anyhow." 

As Sundance glanced about, he saw a painting of Princess Luna looking down at him. 

Even worse, she seemed to be looking right at him. 

As if this place wasn't creepy enough, it had creepy paintings, too. 

"And yes, before you ask, the Day Nursery is mostly white with pastel accents." 

Tongue-tied, Sundance nodded, grateful that his question was anticipated. 

Hearing water, his ears pricked; there was a decorative fountain or something nearby, he was certain of that. It wasn't just a faucet left running, that much was for certain. There were stars on the ceiling, which seemed a bit at odds with the sunlight streaming though the domed skylights. When he caught a whiff of hospital-grade disinfectant, he almost sneezed; it was only through sheer fortitude that he managed to contain the gale lurking in his sinuses. 

"Most of our displaced young are kept here," Jewel said to him. "Your little gang of cuddle-buddies, they graduated to general population, but they were nervous and anxious about meeting you. To ease their troubled minds, we arranged for the meeting to happen here, in a place in which they are familiar with. All of them started here. They met each other here. This was the place where they bonded, and learned how to cope… together." 

"So, when do I meet them?" he asked. 

With a shake of her head, she replied, "Not for a while. There is more to do. Please, come with me." 

A sigh of resignation seemed ill-advised, so Sundance followed after her in silence. 



 

This room too, was blue. Almost everything in the room was blue, but the yellow pencils on the table stood out in sharp contrast. There was a blue couch, with a bluer coffee table, and a slightly less blue winged chair in the corner. The carpet under hoof was the colour of new denim while the walls were the colour of sky on a somewhat overcast day. A blue goo lamp bubbled atop a contoured matte grey-blue plastic end table. 

A smiling portrait of Princess Luna looked down over the couch. 

"Somepony will be with you shortly," Jewel Jangle said, and then she slipped out the door before Sundance could respond. 

He looked at the high-backed wing chair in the corner, then at the couch, and then up at the painting of Princess Luna above the couch. Something had changed, of this he was certain. Were her eyes open just a minute ago? Now she seemed sleepy, though still smiling. Try as he might, he couldn't recall if her eyes were fully open or half shut. It was probably just his eyes playing tricks on him. Stress did funny things to his mind. 

Blobs of electric blue goo bobbed up and down within the confines of the lamp. 

Was he being watched? 

He stood very still and tried to make sense of his feelings. It felt like somepony was watching him. Or something, as the case may be. There were no mirrored glass windows like those found in the police station. Whipping his head about, he looked out the window, but there was nothing beyond the glass but shrubberies and songbirds. With the sensation of eyes upon him growing ever stronger, he glanced this-a-way and that-a-way, but nothing revealed itself. 

When he looked up at the picture of Princess Luna, all of the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Were her eyes crossed when he looked at her last? They were crossed now, and he could see a faint sliver of orange tucked between her parted lips. Feathers ruffled, his hackles raised like sawteeth, he refused to take his eyes off of the mischievous portrait of Princess Luna. 

He extended his wing, held forth two primaries, pointed at his eyes, and then pointed at the portrait of the peeping princess just to let her know that he was on to her. In a smooth, fluid motion, he pointed again to his own eyes, then at the painting, and then back at his eyes once more. However foolish he might appear, he knew he was justified in his actions, because the princesses were pranksters. 

"Is something wrong?" 

At the sound of the stranger's voice, Sundance just about lept right out of his skin and his heart was almost successful with its escape exit out his mouth, but it got stuck about halfway up his windpipe. Every single one of his feathers now stood out and his hackles, already up, now looked as though they could cut lumber. He tucked his wing back against his side, recovered a small portion of his lost dignity, and turned to face the stranger in the doorway. 

"Just a bit nervous," he said around the beating heart lodged in his throat. 

The pony in the doorway was not at all perfect, not even in the slightest. In fact, she was perfectly normal, and Sundance was relieved to be away from pleasant perfection. This mare wore glasses and her muzzle was perhaps a bit too long. But that didn't matter to Sundance, he was glad to see her, glad to be in the same room with her. Her smooth hide was the colour of buttered toast and her mane the colour of mint jelly. Why he suddenly thought of food, he had no idea, but it was what it was. There was a stubby horn that just barely poked out of the heaped curls atop her head. 

She was absolutely perfect because she wasn't perfect at all. 

"Well, I can't say I'm upset with how you're looking at me right now. Just the opposite. I'm flattered. Mostly, I'm ignored around here… as if I were some background pony. Hello, handsome. I'm Hot Slice. Pretty sure my mother had delusions of grandeur when it comes to my looks, but with the way that you're looking at me right now, I'm having second thoughts." 

"I'm sorry, I—" 

"No, don't be sorry. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get noticed around here?" 

"Um… uh…" He licked his lips and then shook his head. 

"Let me guess… you thought of hot toast when you saw me—" 

"How'd you know?" he blurted out in astonishment. 

"Why do you think my mom named me Hot Slice?" 

"I guess she had high hopes that somepony could come along to butter your bread." With the words barely even out of his mouth, Sundance was stricken with regret over what was obviously his lingering idiocy. At least, he wanted to believe it was his lingering idiocy. If this wasn't his lingering idiocy, it might be a sign of natural garden-variety idiocy—not good. But his remorse turned to confusion when he heard husky laughter, real, genuine laughter, and not some perfect, practiced laugh. 

"I like you," she said while she pointed in the direction of the couch. "Have a seat, if you please." 



 

Seated in the winged chair, Sundance kept one eye on the painting of Princess Luna and the other on Hot Slice, who sat on the couch just below the suspicious portrait. Hot Slice was pretty in a winsome way, engaging, bubbly of personality, and she had itty-bitty wrinkles in the corners of her eyes when she smiled. Sundance now had a new appreciation for these things and he was glad to notice this tiny detail about her. 

"So… about these perfect ponies…" 

"They're not bad sorts, really. All of them aspire to lives of perfect servitude and altruism. Applewood is full of them. A lot of the movie stars and big celebrity types follow the ways of their Guru, and I guess that is part of the appeal for normal, regular ponies to join. Up here in Applewood Hills is where you'll find the most of them, as their central complex is here. They've remade the whole of Applewood Hills in their own image. It's a much nicer place to live now." 

After a deep breath, he decided not to say anything else about the perfect ponies. 

"I guess, by now, you might be aware of how they feel about you." 

Still silent, Sundance nodded. 

"Yeah, I don't get that, but to each their own. You know, Sundance… if you were to ask them for help, a whole swarm of them, an army of them would arrive to do your bidding. I'm not saying that you should exploit them… but I am kinda saying that if you ever needed help, there is help to be found. They would bring their brand of perfection to your lands. I mean, just look around Applewood Hills. Surely you've noticed how everything is." 

Now, Sundance's silence was due to the fact that he was completely overwhelmed, and not because he wanted to hold his tongue. Hot Slice was still smiling, the crinkles were still present in the corners of her eyes, and he still very much liked how she smiled. As much as he hated himself for doing so, he found himself thinking a bit too much about what Hot Slice had said. A whole army of devoted, dedicated zealots on a holy mission to bring perfection and please Princess Celestia. He wondered if Hot Slice was correct—and suspected that she was. 

When he finally found his tongue, what he had to say was more than a little shallow. 

"They would get dirty and gross if they were put to work. I don't mean to judge, but they strike me as clean types." 

"Oh, trust me, they don't mind getting dirty. They'll even pay to do it. One of the Guru's miracle mud baths costs five-hundred gold bits. And that's probably how they would come to your lands… they would pay the Guru for the privilege of going on a charity mission. That's how these things work. That's how Applewood Hills was rebuilt from the agricultural ghetto it once was. Five years ago, none of what you see here now existed." 

Grudgingly, unwillingly, Sundance was impressed. 

"Would you like to know more about your little gang of goofs?" 

At the mention of the gang of goofs, Sundance's mind immediately uncluttered itself, and he sat up straight. Gang of goofs? There was affection here, and familiarity. It occurred to him that this mare probably loved her job and all of the foals in her care. A part of him felt guilty, because he was taking some little ones away from those who probably loved them a great deal, but his guilt was tempered by the fact that they would have a home, and be loved. Hollyhock and the others would love them, that much was for certain. The oldsters loved the young, they loved having new life in the barony. 

"Alright, deep calming breath time. You're going to hear some sad stories, Mister Sundance. You may find this upsetting, and that's just fine. If you cry or become angry, no one will judge you. In fact, that will be a positive. It means that you've become emotionally invested. Which is good. We want that. We strive for empathetic connections. Are you ready?" 

"I suppose?" He half-shrugged, then added, "I'm not sure what I should be prepared for. I just came here to pick up a truckload of orphans and I had no idea that all of this would happen. So now, I am just riding it out. Hit me with whatever you've got, if that's what it takes." 

"Do you often find yourself in situations where you have no choice but to ride it out?" she asked. 

"Is this another interview?" he asked in return. 

"It might be," she replied with a nod of her head, which made her minty curls bounce. "I'm a Crown-sponsored social worker. I technically do not work for Cactus Creek, but I work here at Cactus Creek. I answer to Twilight Velvet directly. And just so you know, I am also schooled as an empath, so I'll know if you're being sincere." 

"And I guess you'll decide if I can take them home." 

"Oh no, Mister Sundance. My job is to prepare you for the final process: convincing them to come home with you. If they tell you no, they're not going home with you. It is for them to decide their fate, their future." 

"Uh…" Sundance managed to stretch his utterance into a prolonged groan. 

Could foals really make that sort of decision on their own? His brows formed deep furrows that stretched the width of his forehead and the tautness of which tugged his ears forward. This was a huge decision, and to trust a foal with it—he was utterly unable to process this new bit of information, and was deeply troubled by it. Yet, it also made a certain sort of sense. Bad things probably happened to these tykes. The sorts of bad things that might have robbed them from having any sort of say in their lives. Maybe giving them a say in the outcome of their future was part of the healing process. But was it a mistake to do so? 

"Most ponies react explosively and tell us how wrong we are," Hot Slice remarked with cool tranquility. "I must say, your reaction is… different. You seem bothered by it, but you are not immediately dismissing it." 

"I could tell you stories," he replied. "Once upon a time, there was a pony whose mother raised him to hold prejudice against diamond dogs. He was a bit of a dolt. As it turns out, he had to go and find a midwife and a nurse. And found one. She just so happened to be a diamond dog. But Dolty Doo had to come to terms with a whole lot of sh—tuff. Now, Happy Wags and Dolty Doo are the best of friends, and the most important lesson that Dolty Doo learned was not to be too quick to judge. It might cost you a friend." 

Hot Slice's head tilted off to the left and she focused her quizzical gaze upon Sundance. 

"Empath that," Sundance said to her. "Soak that all in. All of it. That should probably tell you everything you need to know about me."

"It rather does," she replied with an amused half-smile. 

"I might not be bright, but I try to do right." 

"Indeed, you do. Shall we begin? Would you like to know more about what you are getting yourself into?" 

"I should make it a policy that somepony has to take me to dinner and a show before they get to ask to do bureaucracy with me," he replied. "As it is, I just show up and immediately dive between the sheets… of paper. Makes me feel cheap."

She tittered, covered her mouth with her hoof, and then giggled uncontrollably. 

"Yeah, let's do this thing. Let's get it over with. Maybe a month from now we'll be done and I can go home." 
> Four for the price of one
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The blue goo lamp cast a comforting glow. Almost giddy, Sundance struggled to contain himself. There was, in fact, a whole wide world beyond that of school, and as it turned out, he could talk to mares. Or stallions, as the case may be. Of course, he utterly failed to think about how Hot Slice, an empath, might perceive his giddiness, his unabashed excitement, but Sundance was not a terrifically intelligent pony. Such was the burden of being wholly and completely average in the smarts department. 

His confidence had spread its wings and soared. 

At the moment, he felt lighter than air—which was generally a good thing for pegasus ponies, as being heavy was rather detrimental to their very state of existence. In a fantastic mood, he allowed his light to shine, and what a light it was. At long last, after so many years of isolation and confusion, of uncertainty and doubt, he had finally come into his own. Still, even with these changes, his ears stayed low, and his withers never aggressively squared forward. He had nothing to prove; the only thing that was truly different was that his confidence and happiness could not be contained. 

"Every group is a troupe, and every troupe has its players," Hot Slice began. "Adorable little actors born to play a role. This troupe is no different. We've allowed them to define themselves and given them a safe space where they might develop. This particular troupe, the one that you might take home, they are of particular interest. Each of them were broken individuals… perhaps even unplaceable on their own. But together? If you were to have met them then, and see them now, you might not recognise them as being the same creatures. They've given new life to one another and their deep friendship has healed them." 

"That's impressive." 

"It is, really." With a nod of her head, Hot Slice continued, "So… hold on… I'm about to spoil your good mood." She inhaled, and in doing so, transformed. One moment, she was bubbly and cheerful, and then she became rather cool, though her passion continued to show. Something about her eyes that revealed remarkable feeling. 

"Little Gerard is the voice of reason and the restorer of calm for the troupe. He's soft spoken, quiet, seldom raises his voice or even needs to do so, and he has a severe aversion to violence. He's a griffon from overseas that had the misfortune of watching his parents get tortured to death. Violence makes him queasy and he is a confirmed stress-vomiter, which might have something to do with his physiology as well as the events that took place. His avian aspect is that of the vulture. That alone makes him a difficult placement, as I am sure that you understand." 

Two words stood out for Sundance, and he said them aloud: "Stress-vomiter?" 

"We all deal with stress in our own special way. Gerard vomits. It might not even be because he is a form of vulture. It could just be an unpleasant quirk. But when the tension ratchets up, or there is the promise of violence, the adorable little birdy boy will just toss his cookies. It's hard for him." 

"I would imagine so," Sundance said, and as he did so he wondered what Hollyhock would think about all of this. 

"Gerard took the lesson of 'treat others how you wish to be treated' to heart. When he comforts others, he does so in a way that he wishes to be comforted. And the little guy is remarkably good at it. He cheers up us adults too. You can't hide anything from him, he'll know. We all believe he is gifted. He was born to help others. All of us truly believe that. Perhaps because we've seen how he's helped those in his peer group. He's reached out to them in ways that we could not. Made progress where we've only encountered failure. So, he is very dear to all of us." 

"Well, I have other troubled tykes at home. Maybe he can help them." 

"Probably," Hot Slice replied. "Seeing another creature in distress leaves him queasy. So naturally he goes to help so that he might help himself. He is a griffon of remarkable goodness." 

"It sounds as though he will prove useful." 

"Next up, we have Silent Thunder." Hot Slice's face began to grimace, perhaps from pain, but halfway through the motion, her expression just turned sad. While she shook her head from left to right, she said, "When he came to us, he didn't even have a name. During the long string of failed placements, nopony named him. Nopony bothered." 

Though it took visible effort, Hot Slice recovered her cheerful demeanour. 

"He's the guard of the group, and we've taken to calling him the Enforcer. Though I'm not sure how I feel about that particular title. Thunder makes sure that Gerard is listened to, because Gerard speaks for him. The colt is mute, you see. Can't say a word. Born mute. Vocal cords never developed… at all. They're both avian creatures though, and Gerard pays enough attention to Thunder's body language that he's a canny translator for the mute colt. And Silent Thunder expresses his gratitude by ensuring that Gerard's soft voice is listened to, because Gerard's voice is Silent Thunder's voice. He finally has a voice and that is a big deal for him." 

For the first time, the seriousness of the situation truly sank in and Sundance wondered what he was getting himself into. These lives were connected in ways that he could barely comprehend, and he would be responsible for them. He had no experience, was not a father, not even married—yet here he was and his task was set out before him. Doubt's cold talons sank into his flesh and refused to let go. Messing this up or making mistakes would cause a ripple-effect of suffering that he wasn't wholly certain that he was prepared to deal with. 

"The group's sense of adventure and risk taking is handled by Pluck, the intrepid explorer." Visible mischief could be seen in Hot Slice's eyes as a smirk spread across her muzzle. "Pluck counterbalances Gerard's stodgy sense of overcaution. He's brave… to a fault. Now, Pluck has some… well, he has some severe scarring. But the only abuse he's truly suffered was neglect and a distinct lack of adult supervision. I don't know everything that happened, but Pluck had more than one run in with cacti, including a near-fatal incident with a needler that very nearly did him in. That prompted the Crown to take custody of him and he was brought here. The little guy was half-mustang from a lack of caretaker attention." 

The smirk on Hot Slice's face never wavered. 

"Pluck is the most social of the group, and he'll probably be the one that talks to you. If you can somehow win him over, there's a good chance that he'll convince the others. I would say he's your best chance at winning the group over. Good luck getting the little motormouth to listen to what you have to say though. The little guy is enamoured with gross jokes, yucky stories, and is not the least bit disgusted when Gerard has a severe stress reaction. That's actually how they bonded and became friends. Gerard, he um, he hurled and Pluck treated it as if it were no big deal. A beautiful friendship started that day. That little colt is totally cavalier." 

"He sounds like a character," Sundance remarked. 

This caused Hot Slice's head to bob vigorously up and down. "Oh, he is."

What would Hollyhock think of all of this? 

"And the fourth?" asked Sundance. 

"You might want to brace yourself for the fourth," Hot Slice replied. 

"Right. Consider me braced." 

"Number four. Flax. A little donkey filly." Hot Slice's tone of voice and facial expression turned deadpan. "She's… scared of almost everything. But more than anything else, she's terrified of butterflies. She has what we believe to be the worst case of lepidopterophobia ever observed. Mottephobia too. Uh, she doesn't trust sandwiches and fears that they will bite her. Little Flax requires a lot of patience and understanding. Thankfully, she has her big brothers, and they take their duty to look after her very seriously. She's the conscience of the group… the heart, the soul… she keeps the boys in line." 

Having just encountered the word 'lepidopterophobia', which was said without so much as a single stutter, Sundance remained silent. A fear of butterflies. The condition had a name. How could anypony—or in this case, anydonkey—be afraid of butterflies? What could possibly cause such mortal terror? He didn't know, and he dared not judge. Nor did he dare say anything, because the barony was chock-a-block with butterflies. Corduroy chased them regularly. Maybe little Flax would grow out of this after some much-needed exposure. 

"Flax is maybe two years old. We're not sure. And she has every right to be terrified. Poor little girl was trafficked in Las Pegasus. Worst of all, the Wardens allowed her to be branded—" 

"They did what?" Almost overcome with anger, Sundance leaned forward in his chair. 

"The Wardens made an awful choice. They could have saved her and the others, but it would have cost them exposing the trafficking ring. So they allowed her to be sold and bought, branded at the hidden processing facility, and then taken to the horrible secret hideout of that awful criminal syndicate. The bust was the largest one in history. I have… mixed feelings about what the Wardens did and what they allowed to happen." A deep and abiding frown appeared on Hot Slice's face, and her eyes darkened like storm clouds passing before the sun. 

"A few foals suffered so that many foals could be freed." Miserable, Sundance slumped over, his gaze downcast at the blue carpet, and he shook his head as though this would somehow ward off the terrible thoughts that lurked in the back of his mind. "It's a tough choice, but the Wardens made it. Strikes me as being the right thing." 

Ears down, eyes dark, her nostrils flaring, Hot Slice fought a visible battle to keep herself composed. "I have strong feelings about the issue, myself. What happened was awful, and I understand why it was done, but I still don't feel good about it. Not at all. Flax and those other foals suffered beyond imagining just so the Wardens could make their bust. Now, she's scarred for life, in more ways than one. To see her, to see what they did to her, it is heartbreaking." 

"Sometimes," Sundance said to Hot Slice, "life only gives us bad choices. Bad decisions. And we have no choice but to make a choice and accept the consequences." 

"I know." She nodded. "I know. No matter what is said, I can't come to peace with it." 

For Sundance, no words seemed worth saying. 

"The boys took to her. Silent Thunder is very protective. She's brought out the very best in him. He's learned to care for somepony other than himself. Gerard, he holds her when he's nervous. She's almost like a doll to him, but far more precious than any toy. As for Pluck, having Flax around has given him a number of lessons on how his actions affect others. As a result, he's become far more considerate. He falls apart when she starts crying… more so if he's the cause." A small portion of Hot Slice's smile returned and then she added, "The whole of the group is greater than the sum of its parts. To know them is to love them. And just in case nopony has said it, we're all very grateful that you're willing to keep them together." 

"They will be kept together," Sundance said with as much reassurance as he could muster. 

"It's really quite amazing. You'd think that boys wouldn't want a bratty little sister, but you'd be wrong. They adore her. She adores them. Thunder chases away the horrible butterflies. They are a loving and tight-knit family and all they need now is a forever home. A permanent placement. So, all that is left to do is for you to convince them to come home with you. If they all agree, they're yours. If they refuse, well, we start over. Maybe with you, or maybe with somepony else. After all that has happened, they deserve a say when it comes to their shared futures." 

"So when do I get to meet them?" 

"Well, how about right now?" she replied. "We have them waiting in an observation room." 
> The fortress of snarkitude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Sundance traversed the doorway the weight of the invisible crown upon his head almost took him down to the floor. Wobbly knees, weak legs, his spine turned to jelly without warning, moving from the hallway to the observation room was almost his undoing. While his body fought against the cruel tug of gravity, his mind's eye clearly saw the crystal tree, and it grew a new branch at this moment. He saw it clearly and knew that it was no daydream, no flight of fancy. Breathless, stricken, the door shut behind him and then he understood that he was alone. Yes, he would face these little ones alone, with no help, no aid. No beneficial advice. 

This was what it meant to be Baron Sundance and not just Regular Sundance. The lesson in fine distinction between these two halves threatened to unravel him like a sweater. Something happened, something changed; Sundance knew it to be true, though he could not possibly explain exactly what had occured. The crystal tree back home drew upon him somehow, in some way, it drank in some manner of the metaphorical water from his very soul to fuel its own growth. It wasn't a wholly unpleasant feeling, but to be aware of it happening and to have no means of understanding it, much less a way to express or explain the sensation was unnerving, to say the very least. 

What the tree drew from him was not loss, though he could not say what he gained. 

This room, like the others, was all shades of blue. Off to the left side was a mirror—though Sundance knew what it really was—and to the right was an enormous couch. Directly ahead were gigantic fuzzy alphabet blocks all stacked into an imposing fortress. Of the little ones, there was no sign, though Sundance suspected that all of them hid in the stuffed alphabet block fort. Not a peep. Nary a murmur nor greeting. 

As a baron, Sundance most certainly wouldn't want somepony crashing his fortress unannounced, so he respected the rights of the fortress dwellers. Going over there and just letting himself in would be rude and wrong for all kinds of reasons. Yet, he had to do something. Every second that the silence persisted it grew harder to think of the right words to end it. After maybe a full minute or so of internal debate, Sundance settled on the basic greeting that suited him best. 

"Hello." 

Not a word was said in return. 

"Hello?" he said again, only this time in the form of a question. 

Well, this would not do… 

He dared not approach the fortress; the tykes inside might be armed. Bean bags, stuffies, toys, and potentially even wooden blocks, the small kind that caused one's mother to spew forth a stream of vulgarities when stepped on in the middle of the night when going potty. Some things, once heard, could never be unheard, and this was doubly true when those things were said by one's mother. 

Instead, he went to the middle of the room and sat down on the floor. While the couch seemed inviting, the couch would also make him bigger and scarier and more imposing. Which seemed counterproductive. He sat down, fluffed out his tail, gave his wings a good stretch, turned his head left, then whipped his head right, cringed from the horrible crackle that emerged from his neckbones, folded his wings against his sides, and then flopped down so his chin came to rest upon the carpet. 

Some creatures, like dragons, could lay in prone repose and look majestic. 

Sundance was not one of those creatures. 

His ears pricked, rotated around, and then angled forward so that he might listen for any sounds within the fortress. Remarkable silence could be heard from the fortress, which seemed like a contradiction in terms, if not for the roaring rush of blood pumping through Sundance's ears as he strained to listen. The ochre pegasus stood out in sharp contrast to the blue of the room, but his blue mane was a pleasant match. 

"Are you a changeling?" a voice asked. 

The question caught Sundance completely off guard. 

"You might be a changeling," the voice said. "Are you?" 

"If I was," Sundance replied, "do you think I would tell you? Why would it benefit a changeling to give themselves up?" 

"He's smart," another voice said. "And probably a changeling." 

"We built this fort to keep out changelings." 

"And pesky adults," the other voice added. 

"I live in a fort and I—" 

"Really?" the voice from within that spoke seemed almost overcome with excitement. 

"Really. I live in a castle. Well, it's not much of a castle, but we have a gate and a tower." 

"That's really neat, Mister." 

"I'm Sundance." 

"We know," a voice said in return. "You live in a castle. Do you have a princess?" 

"I am the princess. We have incredibly low standards." 

The giggle that Sundance heard was almost certainly feminine. 

"I'm supposed to have some changelings come and live with me," Sundance said to be conversational. He had no idea if this would help him or hurt him, but he said it anyway. "Princess Celestia is trusting me to look after them and keep them safe. They are to be the first of several new colonies. It's bound to be interesting… just imagine living with me." 

"That does sound kind of neat," a voice said in a near-whisper from within the fort. 

"Flax got saved by a changeling. And the mysterious Mare Do Well. Kerpow! There was a huge fight and smoke and shouting and kicking and bam-bam-boom!" 

"That changeling was nice, but there were other bad changelings that did awful things." 

"Oh." Unsure of what else to say, Sundance lay on the floor and thought about taking a different approach. 

"Stinkbug was nice," one of the voices said. "Secret Agent Stinkbug. He has a harpy friend. Flax says she's nice." 

"Sounds like Flax made friends with superheroes," said Sundance. 

"She has," a voice replied. "They saved her." 

"Who am I talking to right now?" asked Sundance. 

"That's for us to know and for you to find out," a voice replied. 

"I just wanted to know the names of the superheroes that look after Flax right now." When there was no immediate response, Sundance waited for a short time, but silence ruled within the fuzzy alphabet block fort. "That's why I'm here. To find heroes. I asked for heroes and I was sent here to this place. I have other little ones at home in my castle, but what I don't have are heroes. There's a bit of a shortage." 

He heard words being whispered in the fort, but could not make out what was said. 

Then...

"Prepare to haggle—" 

"No, Pluck, you can't go out there. It's dangerous."

"Flax, look after Captain Barf Buzzard, and don't let him do no visual burps. We don't want him blowing no groceries on the wall. And while you're at it, don't let Captain Thunderpants get bent out of shape. You know how he gets. He's already got that look on his face. Yes you do, don't you dare give me that look."

"Aye aye," a squeaky feminine voice said. 

"Good job, Flax. Keep this up and you'll be promoted, Cadet." 

"Alright, I'm coming out to negotiate—" 

"No, don't do it!" 

"Not to worry, Captain Barf Buzzard… I'll see myself out the airlock." 



 

Whatever it was he thought he was expecting, Sundance was not prepared for his first eyeful of Pluck. Two things stood out right away: the colt's myriad of scars, of which he had many; and the black fabric eye patch, which was too well worn to be a costume. The little guy was the colour of sand, every conceivable shade of sand imaginable. His puckered hide was covered with dimples, as if he were some kind of golf ball. 

He came out of the entrance of the fuzzy block fort with absolutely no fear, and then just stood there with his squint turned on Sundance. Pluck's surviving eye was the ruddy orange of a desert sunset and was filled with more than a little intelligence. Sundance was surprised by the colt's age; this was no little foal, but nor was he an adolescent. He was more or less big enough to see to himself, but as the scars suggested, he'd done a terrible job at it. 

"Flax comes with us," the colt said in a surprisingly adult voice. 

"All of you stay together," Sundance replied. "That was the condition given to me."

"You're kinda weird, for an adult." 

Sundance took this as a compliment. In return, he asked, "Visual burps?"

The earth pony colt shrugged and replied, "Some burps, you hear them. With Captain Barf Buzzard, you see them. These ain't no rainbows of friendship. If you ain't careful, you'll get a faceful of sizzling hot garbage water." 

"You're an odd kid," Sundance remarked. "I think I'll keep you." 

"I ain't changing for nopony," Pluck said with his barrel puffed out as wide and broad as he could get it. "The world is what it is, and I am what I am. You are who you are… and you ain't bad. At least, that's what my gut tells me. You didn't barge in and demand that we come out and you're kind of like the adults here. So, what is home like?" 

Where did Sundance begin? Did he go the safe route and offer up a sanitised version of home? Or did he take some risk and explain how things truly were? Surely this exchange was monitored, and if he started to talk about bottom-biting shitter spiders, an adult would come busting through the door in seconds. Pluck was studying him, and Sundance understood the little colt was a canny customer. In him, Sundance saw potential; Pluck was just the sort of pony his barony needed, a fearless negotiator and adventurous scruffian. 

With his chin still resting upon the carpet, Sundance said, "Home is an incredibly smelly place with giant farting bog buttholes that spew boiling mud up into the air. Spider season is wrapping up, I think, and from what little I understand, it was pretty bad this year. We had a bunny bonanza, which we firebombed with airstrikes. We're hundreds of miles from any sort of civilisation and live in the wilds. Ice cream doesn't exist, we don't have flushable toilets, and there are no movie theatres. Most of my residents have never seen functional electricity. But we have beauty. We have a lot of that. Endless meadows, big craggy rocks, toothy mountains, meandering marshes, and boiling, bubbling bogs." 

"That sounds incredible," the colt said. "Adventure around every corner, I bet." 

"At night, it gets incredibly dark. There are no electric street lamps. But you can see the stars in such a way that you can't see them in the city. The moon is brighter somehow. Can't say why. And things are quiet. So quiet. Sometimes, it is spooky just how quiet it can be. No sounds of traffic. There's no factories so there's no industrial noise pollution. Elevated trains don't go rattling past your window every half-an-hour." 

As Sundance tried to think of more to say, he wondered if Pluck might one day be a future envoy or a delegate sent off to negotiate with allies. The little guy was fearless, curious, and listened with rapt attention. So this was what seeing potential in others was like. Was this how Princess Celestia saw little ponies around her? Sundance wondered what she saw during their first meeting. This was he and Pluck's first meeting, and he already had glimpses into a future that he hoped would happen. 

"What do you want from a home?" asked Sundance. 

Caught off guard, the colt shrugged. He shrugged again, and then once more for a third time. But there was intelligence in his eye and his shrugging was merely stalling whilst he thought of a suitable answer. Sundance watched as the colt actually thought about it, and he could not help but be impressed. Pluck sat down, scratched at his scarred ribs with his hind hoof, and then cocked his head off to one side so that he might focus his eye on Sundance.

"I want a place where I can be important," the colt said to Sundance. "Not because I think I'm better than others, but because I think I have a lot to offer. I used to think I was worthless. Neglect will do that to you. Yeah, yeah, that's therapy talk, but it is true. But now"—the colt's hind leg went still and came to rest upon the ground—"I want to be the pony that Flax thinks I am. I know I can't be perfect, but I can try. That's what I want from a home, I guess. A place where I can prove myself. Having a little sister that believes in you is kinda a big deal. A lot of bad things have happened to Flax, and I don't want her to be disappointed." 

Sundance, who did not have a little sister, felt a pang of regret. 

"I would go off on adventures and nopony would miss me when I was gone," the colt continued. His expression turned troubled and he reached up with his front hoof to adjust his eyepatch. "Only got rescued because of luck. Almost got eaten by crackle jackals. I want to be wanted. Even though I'm kinda big and even though it is kinda annoying, I want somepony who will fuss over me. I want a reason to come home… otherwise, what is the point of adventure? 

"I mean, the whole point of an adventure is that you come home and share your stories. That's what I learned from Daring Do. If you leave, and don't plan to come home, that's not an adventure, that's an escape, and that's just… not… fun. I guess I want a home with books, because books are adventures that you don't die from. You can pick them up, go on adventure, and be home in time for lunch because you never leave home. But leaving home is good too… just so long as you have a home to return to." 

"You've given this a lot of thought," Sundance said to the young colt. 

"Spent a lot of time in therapy being made to think about this," the colt replied. "All the thoughts were there, but my therapists helped me to put them into words and by expressing them as words, I guess I started to get better. I dunno. But getting all the right words was hard. That was an adventure too. Sorta. Maybe not a fun adventure, but not all adventures should be fun. Some of them have to suck"—the colt cast a hurried glance at the mirror—" otherwise, what's the point of adventure? All of Daring Do's best books are adventures gone horribly wrong." 

At the mention of Daring Do's sucky adventures, Sundance thought of when his own adventures went horribly wrong. All the bad things that could happen. The scars that ran the length of his body ached a bit, but he wasn't certain if it was real pain or just the memory of pain. The barony was home, and it meant more to him because he'd bled for it. Yes, Sundance found himself in agreement, sometimes things had to suck so you'd appreciate those moments when things didn't suck. 

"I've always been a motormouth," the colt said as he looked Sundance in the eye, "only now after all that therapy and being made to express myself, I am a motormouth with something to say. I have something to say about just about everything. I listen to the radio and read the newspaper so I have something to say. I go on word adventures where I go to find new words, either by listening or reading, and then I try to think about how those words might apply to me. My friends don't get it, but that's fine. This is a me-thing. What I do. What makes me special. What makes me stand out from my friends. We all have our own me-things that we do. Gerard knits—" 

"Traitor!" a voice from within the fort shouted. 

"You shouldn't be ashamed of it, Captain Barf Buzzard." 

"I crochet," the voice in the fort said. "That's not the same as knitting." 

"Whatever. You're a cat-bird that plays with yarn. It makes you happy. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

"But it is so girly—" 

"Boys," a feminine voice said. 

"—it is so girly but I like it so much. I feel so conflicted. Sometimes, I get so worked up it feels like I'm gonna spew." 

"You know," Sundance said, "we have brutal winters. We could use a knitter to make sweaters and help us survive." 

"Crochet," the voice whined. "I can knit too, but I'm not very good at it. I keep getting distracted by Captain Motormouth and I lose track of my stitches." 

"Knitting helps Captain Barf Buzzard stay calm," Pluck explained to Sundance. 

"Crochet! Holy cheeses, why is this so hard!" 

"When you stick a bird brain onto a cat body, you end up with a lot of nervous energy," Pluck continued. "I think it is because the two parts don't like each other—" 

"That's just not true!" 

"You chase your own tail—" 

"Sometimes it moves in a funny way! It mocks me. I can't help it! Don't judge! Don't judge! At least I've learned not to bite it!" 

"Boys," the squeaky feminine voice said again. 

"If you come home with me," Sundance said to the yet-to-be-seen Gerard, "I'll make sure that you have plenty of yarn. I'll even make sure that you have critters from which yarn can be made. How does that sound?" 

"That's bribery," Pluck said to Sundance matter-of-factly. 

"It's negotiation," was Sundance's entirely reasonable response. 

"That's really tempting," a voice within the fortress said. "I've always wanted to make my own yarn. I know how… sort of. Just never had the chance. Need a spinning wheel." 

"I'll see that you get one." 

"You've just bought the buzzard." Head tilted to one side, Pluck seemed both impressed and annoyed by this. "Fine. Fine. So that's how it is then. Now I suppose we parley for the pegasus." 

With his chin still on the carpet, Sundance looked up at Pluck. "Parley?"

"Daring Do parleys," the eyepatched colt said as he stroked his scarred chin. "Adventurers parley. It is the sacred tradition of adventurers. Parley lasts until somepony or somebody gets thrown into an airscrew by Cocoa, or Ahuizotl springs his trap, or things end in a hail of hot lead. Kablam!" 

"Well, I would hope that our negotiations won't end that way." Studying the young colt, Sundance decided that he rather liked Pluck, but he wasn't sure how Hollyhock might feel about the little smooth operator. "I want to make sure that everypony wins. We should all walk away from this as winners." 

"But not everypony can win though," Pluck said. "Somepony has to lose. Like us. We all lost." The colt lifted his foreleg, gestured at the fuzzy alphabet block fort, and then shook his head. "I lost an eye. We've lost our parents. Captain Barf Buzzard regularly loses his lunch. You shouldn't say that everypony wins, because that's just not true. For some to win, others must lose. That's the way of things."

"Pluck," Sundance began, "we can all come away from this as winners. I want to give you a life. That's kind of what I do. That's my purpose. Why I have my mark. When I came here, I had no idea that any of this would happen. But I'm glad it did. Even if I left this place without you four, I feel as though I would still go home with something. Just meeting you has been a win." 

The one-eyed colt squinted as he concentrated and tried to read Sundance. 

It was almost intimidating just how much scrutiny the colt could deliver. Though he found it difficult, Sundance did not look away. He did not avert his eyes or look elsewhere, even though he longed to do so. At the moment, Sundance was a book and Pluck was the astute reader. Seconds passed like pages turned. As the examination continued, Sundance had an inkling of how important Pluck might be for the barony. Everything hinged upon this moment. 

"You actually believe that," Pluck said at last. 

This wasn't at all what Sundance expected, and so he was forced to carefully consider what he had to say next. The simple fact of the matter was, he wasn't sure what to say. Perhaps he'd used up his allotment of clever words for the day. He did lift his chin from the floor though, and raised his head. Pluck was still fearlessly studying him and Sundance wondered what the colt saw. 

"Grown-ups use a lot of fancy words to say things they don't mean." Pluck's head turned in the direction of the mirror on the wall. "Even some of the adults here. They mean well, I guess. But it makes me angry. They talk about how life will be, and all of the good things, while just ignoring how life actually is, and all the bad things that have happened. What makes it worse is that they don't actually seem to believe what they are saying… even as they say it. I just get so tired of it. 

"They have all these empaths around here, and there's all this talk about how this focus on empathy will change everything, and make everything better, and there's all this talk about honest responses during therapy, but they say so many words that don't actually mean anything and that they don't believe in. But they mean well… I guess. It's better here than anywhere else I've been. As for you… I like that you're honest. Because of that, I'll be honest too… I haven't decided." 

"I can't speak for the others back home, I can promise you that I'll be honest with you. I am not a changeling." 

Much to Sundance's surprise, the one-eyed colt chuckled. 

"You've already won over Gerard. You had him when you promised him yarn. And I believe that you're honest enough to keep your promise, so I won't try to talk him out of it." Pluck's head began to bob up and down. "Flax, come on out and say hello to the nice pony. Don't be scared. I'll be here with you. Let's see how you take to him." 
> Perchance a pegasus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing that Sundance saw emerging from the fortress of fuzzy pillow blocks happened to be two ears. Long ears that were vaguely rabbit-like in appearance. These were followed by more ear—considerably more ear—and then he had his first good look at Flax. She was tiny—far too much so—and his heart skipped a few beats. Her head was oversized compared to her body, and she teetered and tottered about on teensy-weensy legs the size of clothespins. Upon closer inspection, he found that her ears were longer than she was tall, and that her head and her body were closer in size than first thought. But she clearly hadn't grown into her true form just yet, and little pony foals had the same problem. 

But like a pony foal, she was immensely cute at this age. 

Painfully so. 

Her stumpy clothespin legs didn't really allow for much of a gait, so she half-walked half-pronked as she emerged from the hideout. But she came to a sudden and abrupt stop when she saw Sundance though, and with her eyes impossibly wide, she stared at him with frantic horror. Quivering with terror, her lower jaw trembled, her nostrils flared wide as she inhaled, and then with a volume that seemed far too impossibly high for having such a small body, she shrieked as she came to a skidding halt. 

After her shrill screech she screamed, "STRANGER DANGER!" She then beat a swift and hasty retreat. In mere seconds, she was gone and Sundance could not help but feel that things had gone horribly wrong, and that somehow, it was all his fault. It was a crushing blow to his confidence, and his ego would need to be nursed back to good health when all of this was over. But this was far from over, and as awful as it was, it got worse. Much worse. 

A pegasus colt stepped out of the fortress. Young, small, and rather slight of build, the colt poked his head out and then turned his baleful gaze upon Sundance. And what a horrible sight to behold this gaze was. There was such fury contained in those pale grey eyes, and in such concentration, the likes of which Sundance had never seen. Unable to help himself, he shied away and somehow felt even worse for scaring the little donkey filly. The full force of the colt's glower power turned Sundance's heart to mush and before the older pegasus could defend himself from the younger, the little colt retreated back into the fort with a dismissive snort.

"I'm sorry," Sundance squeaked, and he very much wanted to bury himself in a hole in the ground. It was exactly what he deserved. While he didn't know what he'd done wrong, he did feel rather awful about it, and he couldn't help but think of the stares Officer Mom gave him. Her stares were magical in nature, and so were his grandmother's. 

After a few seconds, he recovered somewhat and gave himself a shake. 

"That was about a four," Pluck remarked with casual disinterest, the same sort that one might have when one mentioned that it was raining. 

"Four? What? What?" Sundance scrambled to fully recover his senses. 

"That was about a four," the earth pony colt said again, echoing his previous words. "You've been thunderstruck. It can go as high as ten… and for special occasions, Captain Thunderpants can crank it up to eleven." 

"Eleven?" Sundance struggled to cope with this new reality in which he found himself. 

"Captain Barf Buzzard got himself a faceful of eleven when he almost dropped Flax in the toilet. She got scared, because of course she did, and she screamed. And even though no real harm was done, Captain Thunderpants cut loose and gave Captain Barf Buzzard a massive faceful of eleven. Maybe out of spite, it's hard to tell. Captain Thunderpants is mute, so understanding his motivations is mostly guesswork. If it ever happens to you, there's a good chance that you deserve it. Consider yourself warned." 

"Toilet?" Sundance somehow managed to say as some of his trembling subsided. 

"Flax is kind of little, if you haven't noticed. She needs help to go potty. Captain Barf Buzzard has hands." Pluck gesticulated in the general direction of the fort with one foreleg and a half-smile lurked on his muzzle. "There is no crime greater than dropping a foal in the potty. It pays to remember that." 

"I feel bad," Sundance said, almost stammering out each word. 

"I know, right?" Pluck focused his surviving eye on Sundance. "It'll pass. Eventually. All things do. Especially gas. It was made to pass." 

Utterly perturbed and more than a little shaken, Sundance did his best to recover himself. A few deep breaths helped, and rather than be upset about what had happened, he chose to see it as an asset. One day, that stare might come in useful. Oh, there could be no doubt that the pegasus colt's soul-piercing gaze would be a boon for the barony. Still, seeing it as a boon and surviving the aftermath were two very different things, and Sundance was left unsettled. 

"How did you get so canny?" asked Sundance. 

"Canny?" With a slight turn of his head, Pluck cast a glance at the mirror. 

After a bit of a repressed shudder, Sundance lifted up his head enough to nod. "Yeah, canny. The way you are. The way you talk. Everything you do." 

"Oh, that." The colt's gaze remained upon the mirrored glass. "I watch the watchers. It's this place. All the therapy and all this focus on empathy. I watch… and I mimic. This place is like a school, only I didn't learn the lessons they expected." 

"Like what?" asked Sundance. 

"Take Captain Thunderpants for example," the canny colt replied. "All that raw intimidation. I understand how he does it. How it is done. I've picked up on all the bits and bobs of empathy when I eavesdrop on the adults as they train each other and give each other advice. 

"Like, with Captain Thunderpants, it's all in the eyes. And I don't mean just his stare. It is how he looks at you… or doesn't look at you. Thunder never looks down. He never allows himself to be cowed or shook down or intimidated. He will either look you in the eye, or he will look away, like off sideways, but never down. By looking at you, he establishes dominance. But by looking off to the side at something else, he's telling you that he doesn't see you as a threat, or even something worthy of his attention. It unsettles the grown-ups something awful." 

Something of a revelation sparked within Sundance's mind, and he wondered how much time he spent looking down. He thought of Hollyhock and how she'd called him wishy-washy. There was also his own natural submissiveness, and the way he kept his ears back, apparently. That made him a nice guy, maybe, but now he wondered how many of his problems in life were due to how he looked at things. As far as revelations went, it was a big one. 

He spent an awful lot of time with his eyes on the floor. 

"I can't help but notice that you call each other Captain… but not Flax." 

In response, Pluck grinned, and his scarred face crinkled. "Each of us is in charge of our own lives. We sail our own ships. It is up to us to decide our own future… together. Flax will get promoted, eventually. Captain Thunderpants used to be Cadet Thunderpants. He got his stuff together and suffered through a lot of foalsitting duty." 

"Oh, I see." 

"Flax, do you want to come back out?" asked Pluck. 

"No," said a voice within the fort. 

"Please?" 

"Stranger danger." 

At the mention of the words 'stranger danger' Sundance feared that Silent Thunder would emerge and do that thing he did. When it did not happen, Sundance was silently relieved and only shuddered a little bit as he thought about getting thunderstruck once more. Back home, the others would have to learn to be respectful and good, or else they too would get eyeballed into submission. Why, even Corduroy was bound to be vulnerable, Sundance suspected, and he wasn't sure if Hollyhock would be able to exert her usual level of control. Intimidating the colt probably wouldn't work—adults tended to do that even if they didn't mean to do so—and so other means of making the colt obey would have to be found. 

But a part of Sundance wanted to see The Scrub versus The Stare. 

"Flax?" Keeping his voice as low and as soft as equinely possible, Sundance called out for the tiny tyke. "Can you come out so we can meet each other? Please?" 

It wasn't Flax who came out, but Silent Thunder. The smallish pegasus colt's face wore an expression that made Sundance think that the little guy had eaten a crate of lemons. It was an exaggerated expression, but that made sense because Silent Thunder was mute. Of course he made faces to compensate. Everything about him was the colour of a thundercloud, all soft grey-blues in his mane and a sooty grey hide. His wings were dull white that wanted to be grey, but wasn't quite. After he snorted, he sat down and focused his thunderously silent gaze upon Sundance. 

"We're pegasus ponies," Sundance said to the colt. "You and I, it is in our nature to be protective. That's what we do. When I was about your age, I kept my toys safe. Flax is so much more important than a toy, isn't she?" 

The mute colt made no attempt at response and sat as still as a statue. 

"You probably don't even understand why you're so protective." As he spoke, Sundance thought back to his own foalhood, and the many confusing moments. "I never understood it either… until I got older. Just recently in fact. I learned an awful lot about myself when others I cared about were in danger. I was capable of shocking things. Awful things. Still sorting it out, actually. A lot of it is still hard to understand." 

Some of the hardness on Silent Thunder's face softened into something else. 

"It's probably harder when you think or feel that nopony cares about you," Sundance said to the colt in the most sincere and warm tone he could muster. "To have all those feelings when they're not shown to you. That's kind of true for me, too. But for different reasons, I suppose." 

Much to Sundance's shock and pleasant surprise, the colt nodded. 

"I grew up with parents," Sundance was quick to say, "but I was still pretty isolated. I hid away for a long time to do a project. It was… it was an excuse to hide away from the world so I wouldn't have to face all the confusing feelings I had. And it is really hard to sort everything out now that I'm starting to have friends and get to know others. You have friends now, and Flax, and I bet everything is all topsy-turvy right now. Am I right?" 

Again, the colt nodded, though this time rather reluctantly. 

"I taught myself a bit of empathy," Sundance continued as he made an effort to win the colt's precious trust. "I tried to be a writer when I was younger. To find inspiration for stories, I would listen in on what the ponies around me said, and then I would try to make up the sort of events that make them say what they said. Of course, I didn't know what I was doing at the time. I'm not as aware as Pluck." He made it a point to look the mute colt in the eye and added, "You and I, we can maybe sort these feelings out together. Even if you can't talk, I can still try to listen. Would you like that?" 

With no words to be said, the pegasus colt shrugged. 

It was not a no, nor was it a yes. 

"Well, we've parlayed for the pegasus," Pluck announced. "And even if he doesn't know it yet, he's already said yes. Because he never says maybe. He's too decisive for that. The very fact that you've caused him to be unsure of his course of action means you've already won him over. But I think he wants this to be on his terms, and not yours." 

"Thunder, is this true?" asked Sundance. 

For a few seconds, the colt did nothing; but then, slowly, he nodded. 

"Sincerity is a rare gift," Pluck remarked with casual disinterest. "This isn't going as I expected. Honestly, I thought that Captain Thunderpants would be the final holdout." 

As if to explain himself, Silent Thunder gestured in Sundance's direction, shrugged once, gestured again at Pluck, shrugged a second time, and then just sat there with a neutral blank expression. His ears remained pricked, his spine straight, and his jaw parallel to the floor. Even in his moment of uncertainty, the colt's confidence did not waver, and seemed as steadfast as ever. Sundance found himself admiring the quiet little guy. 

"Captain Thunderpants didn't want a little sister. He just wanted to be alone because he was already alone. Friends? He didn't need those either and he was determined to be alone. Nopony loved him, and so he didn't want to love nopony. Now, he has a sister… and friends. Or maybe we're brothers. We're probably brothers. Some bonds don't need to be said. But if I were to guess, I think Thunder probably wants parents next, just to see what he's been missing." 

With a heavy, leaden sigh, the mute colt nodded whilst he rolled his eyes. 

"He's taking quite a risk in trusting you, Sundance." 

"I suppose he is." 

"If you fail, it might be the last time he takes such a risk." 

"Yeah," Sundance replied as the weight bore down upon him from the crown that wasn't there, "it might just be. But I'm going to try anyway." 

"Why though?" asked Pluck, whose surviving eye had its scrutinous gaze now focused on Sundance. 

"Because every life is worth saving… I don't know. I don't have a good answer. Because it is the right thing to do. Because if I don't, then who will? I was sent here to do a job, and no matter what, I will do that job to the best of my ability, because the fear of failure is too much to bear. If I just fail myself, then I am the only one who suffers. I no longer have that luxury now though. My every breath is taken for others and now if I fail, so many will suffer in ways that I can't even comprehend. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm doing it anyway, because there's no other choice in the matter. This is just one more thing I have to do, and I'll do it well, or else." 

Pluck nodded knowingly. "That's pretty rough, Sundance. It is also incredibly honest. Most adults I know wouldn't be that honest with us. They want to protect us, but they lie to us to do so." 

"A lie of omission is still a lie," Sundance said. 

To which a nodding Pluck replied, "Yep. But we've already established that you're honest. You could have lied to me just then, and you didn't. So, I guess all that's left for you to do is somehow win over Flax. You have the buzzard and the mute. If you can get Flax to accept you, you'll have me. Sundance, you and I have something in common. We live for our friends. If they go, I go. It's that simple. I'm keeping us together. Where they go, I follow. So… good luck with Flax." 

Jaw firm, his cheeks drawn taut, Sundance nodded. 
> A return to moon piracy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance knew what needed to be done, even if he wasn't sure how to go about doing it. While his nose pointed in Pluck's direction, his eyes were on the fuzzy alphabet blocks, something he wished he had as a foal. They made for a fine fort, though he imagined it would be difficult for a small foal to stack them. A team effort might make it a bit easier however, but Sundance was an only-foal. With no brothers or sisters, he would have struggled to make a fortress from the fuzzy alphabet blocks. Perhaps that was the point of these blocks; to make the little ones work together until the bonds of siblinghood were established. 

A blink, and then another. He didn't like his own plan, even though he knew it to be necessary. It wasn't much of a plan, just something he'd thought up on the spot, something motivated by gut instinct and what was sure to be what other ponies called his wisdom—though he still had some doubts about being wise. A wise pony didn't slalom the stacks. The wise and clever played it safe. Or maybe wisdom was more about managing the risks to minimise danger. His eyes traveled to Pluck once more, who was scratching behind his scarred ear with his hind hoof. 

The carpet beneath him was more rough than soft. Doctor's office carpet, or bank lobby carpet. Stuff made to last, made to wear well so it would never need to be replaced. It would end up a victim of its own endurance, for certain. A few decades from now, the carpet would be horribly out of date, the style of yesteryear, a forgotten relic from a no longer fashionable past. This room too would suffer an awful fate and become a place frozen in time. Just like his grandmother's apartment with its groovy gold tiles, harvest gold fridge, peach prosperity drapes, and avocado avalanche toilet, all of which came before a time that Sundance could not remember, but he could still swear that he was there. 

"Pluck, there is something I need you to do for me." 

"Yeah?" 

The colt seemed pretty cool in his response, and Sundance hesitated before he said, "Just a little favour." 

"What do you want?" 

"I want you to convince Flax to come home with me." 

The cocky look on the colt's face went away and he trained his one eye upon Sundance. Something that was almost anger could be seen for the briefest of moments, but that was replaced by an unreadable expression of cold calm. Silent Thunder, who sat near the doorway, turned his head to look at his earth pony companion for a short time, and then focused all of his attention on Sundance. 

"Now why would I want to do that?" asked Pluck. 

"Because"—Sundance was careful to keep his eyes on the fort, and not on the floor—"you say that you're Flax's brother, and brothers do what is best for their sisters." 

"I'm not sure this is best for her." 

"No," Sundance replied, his voice low and steady, "I don't think that's true." 

Pluck's mouth formed a straight, thin line just above his scarred, dimpled chin. 

"I think," Sundance began, "that you know that this is a good chance for Flax. She's too little to make this choice on her own, the staff here knows that, and you, you know that. I know that. All of us know that. So the real decision is all about three brothers doing what is best for their baby sister. This is your test, not mine. What we're doing right now determines what sort of big brothers you are. Can you give her a future? That's what we're doing here, I'm pretty sure of that. So, can you?" 

He squirmed a bit, shifted around a bit, and then Pluck sat up tall. Almost defiant, he folded his forelegs over his barrel, squinted his surviving eye, and then in silence, he stared at Sundance with an almost blank expression of thoughtfulness. Sundance, for his part, felt a bit like throwing up. Was he right? He might be. Even with his confident words, he wasn't wholly certain that he was correct. If he was wrong, all of this might blow up in his face. 

"You can't care for her with no future of your own," Sundance continued, his voice still steady. "If you want to provide for her, you must secure your own future, and I can give you that. That's a promise, Pluck… I will give you a future, one full of promise and hope. Take that for yourself, and you'll be able give her the future that you want for her. Turn me down and you blow the opportunity of a lifetime… and for what, exactly? Gerard and Silent Thunder were easy to convince because they're thinking of Flax. The fact that they're getting something out of it is secondary. They're doing this for her, but also getting something for themselves." 

"Thunder, is this true?" Pluck asked of his silent companion. 

The stormy pegasus turned away, his eyes aimed at the ceiling. His wings slapped against his sides, and one of his front hooves tapped against the floor. Clearly uncomfortable, he shifted to the right, then to the left, and then back to the right again. Then, with a slow turn of his head, Silent Thunder turned to face Pluck and offered up a brief almost imperceptible nod. This lasted for only a few seconds, and then the pegasus colt's expression returned to lemon chewing and thunder spitting. 

"A lot of ponies have made promises to me," Pluck said to Sundance. "Not many of them were kept. I don't want that to happen to Flax. She's a donkey, and I'm an earth pony, and ain't either one of us has much of a future. So I'm doubtful about your promise. I want to believe you… I really do. But your promise is just words… there's nothing to them. No mention of what sort of future. It's just words. Just words. Just a promise of some future without saying what that future is. So I'm not convinced. I'm doomed to a dead end so it will be the one I choose." 

These words caused a feeling of heaviness to settle over Sundance's heart. 

"It doesn't have to be this way, Pluck. Twilight and I… we're working on the future. Not just for earth ponies, but for all ponies. For everybody. She and I, we might be doing the most important work ever done. I've been given an impossible task, a job so big that I can't even understand it. I need helpers. What I need are ponies like you. If you come with me, I will put you to work. Important work. Like I said, it might just be the most important work of all. I need envoys. Diplomats. I need ponies that can talk to and read others. Come with me, and that's the sort of work that you'll be doing." 

Pluck somehow remained dubious. 

"Look… envoys and delegates and those types keep showing up at my door and I am at a severe disadvantage because I really don't have any of my own. What I need is a smooth talker that will treat the whole of the barony like their little sister, and do what is right and necessary for all of us. That's the future I'm offering. I can give that to you. If I don't step up my diplomacy game, I'm boned. And if I'm boned, then all I provide for, they're boned too. You think it's hard to look after your little sister? You should try my job. If I make a mistake, I could ruin lives. Maybe even end lives. I need somepony that understands that to help me. Are you that pony? If not, tell me no." 

"Pluck, it is time to go on an adventure and—" 

"That's funny advice, Captain Barf Buzzard. You're the one that tells me I need to stop daydreaming and get my head out of the clouds." 

A feathered head poked out of the alphabet block fortress. It wasn't a bald vulture as Sundance expected, but something else entirely. His beak almost seemed fuzzy, furry even, and his red-gold eyes darted to and fro as he emerged. Gerard was big—imposingly so. Griffons were larger than ponies for the most part, and Gerard was no tiny tot. Sundance couldn't tell how old the griffon was, but he wasn't young. If anything, he was on the verge of adolescence perhaps, or was. Sundance understood right away the trouble that Gerard faced; he wasn't small enough to be considered cute and desirable, but he wasn't old enough to be truly on his own. 

Gerard had a bearded beak; it was fascinating. 

"Pluck… I'm only going to say this once. You want to grow up and be the next Daring Do. Well, that's not happening. This is the next best thing. If you turn this down, you're an idiot, and we'll all suffer for that." The griffon's long, delicate talons twitched and tapped against the carpet. "You will never get an offer like this ever again from anyone. A baron is offering you a position in his court. Don't be a moron." 

Rolling his eyes, Pluck huffed out a sharp exhale. 

"I get that you don't trust him," Gerard continued, his red-gold eyes still darting about in every conceivable direction. "And if it were anyone else, I would say that your lack of trust is justified. But I trust him… and you, you should trust me. Don't be a moron, Pluck." 

"You know, Gerard… if you keep this up, you might just find yourself working alongside him." As Sundance spoke, the griffon's piercing eyes focused on him and it was almost a distraction. "I was told that you're the voice of reason." 

"I had no other choice but to become that," the young griffon replied. 

"Care to explain?" asked Sundance. 

"I'm a big scary griffon," Gerard replied. "Keep me away from the foals, because I'll eat them the first chance I get. I'm dangerous. Practically a monster." Again his talons twitched against the carpet. "Reason hasn't helped me as much as I'd've liked, but I'll not abandon it. Got me this far. I am a griffon the same way that Pluck is an earth pony. The world will always see me as a griffon, and he'll always be an earth pony, and Flax will always be a donkey. Assumptions will always be made about us. Reason is all I have… it was choose reason or violence and anger, and violence makes me queasy. So reason it is, then. And I've been trying to teach Pluck and Flax to also choose reason. Anger isn't going to get them anywhere." 

"And what about Silent Thunder?" asked Sundance. 

"What about him?" replied Gerard. "He's the angriest of us all. All mute fury. I am trying to stay his anger. For Flax, Pluck, and myself, we struggle to be heard because of who and what we are. Thunder, he can't be heard at all. I know exactly how that feels. I do, I really do." 

After he lifted his head, Sundance rose into an upright sitting position and then made himself comfortable. Head tilted off to the left, he carefully considered the young griffon for a short time, and then turned his attention to Silent Thunder. After some time in thought, he studied Pluck all while he reconsidered his promise that he made. These four were whatever they were because they were together. However broken they might be, they made one satisfying whole—just like the rest of the residents in his barony. 

"Actually," he began, "after some reconsideration, I think I need to change my promise—" 

Pluck sighed and looked away. 

"—because all of you are at your best together. Sending Pluck off alone to be my voice would be a mistake, I think. It would be for the best if you all worked together, I think. Even you, Thunder. I am almost pretty positive that having a mute delegate would be a statement on its own. To be a voice for those who have none. I understand that you're young, and that maybe all of this is confusing… but it could be something we work towards. A goal. If it doesn't work out, that's fine. But my gut says to keep you together." 

Now, after all that was said, Pluck's attitude had changed somewhat. While his expression was difficult to read, he no longer seemed as hostile. In fact, he was almost receptive, though still guarded and doubtful. Sundance knew that he had his work cut out for him, but the work would be done because he would return home with four more lives than he'd left with. In the back of his mind, a small voice suggested that it wasn't Twilight Velvet who'd sent him here, but the tree itself. Through the tree, the barony was securing its own future. 

Sundance was proud to be its agent. 

"The last time I was adopted, I was promised that it'd be different," Pluck said. "A nice ranch. The earth pony way of life. I would be happy, they said. An awful lot of promises were made." 

After hearing this, Sundance was left at a loss for words. 

"What I got was sun-baked work from sunup to sundown. If you didn't work, you didn't eat. Mostly, I was just ignored. There was no love there. No sense of family. I lived in a hot bunkhouse with all the others. So much for promises. Now, more promises are being made. Really big promises." 

"This is a different situation, Pluck," Gerard said to the earth pony colt. "The ponies here are trying to make sure that those mistakes aren't repeated. We should trust that." 

"But what if I get hurt again?" Pluck demanded. "The last time promises got broken, it cost me an eye. What about—" 

"Pluck, I'm sorry to do this, but you cost yourself an eye. You were reckless and brash. You were careless. The neglect was just an excuse to escape into fantasy. But the reality didn't work out. If you say no right now, you're just running off into the cactus patch again. What's it going to cost you this time? What are you prepared to lose? Are you going to take us with you when you go? What will we lose? We all promised to make sure that Flax got a good home. Are you going to keep your promise?" 

All of Pluck's defenses crumpled. Sundance saw it plain as day. The colt slumped over, shrunk down, and turned away from Gerard's piercing gaze. He even seemed younger somehow, smaller, more vulnerable. All of the confidence that made him seem older and canny was gone, just like that, and Pluck was stripped bare. It all came down to promises. Life was full of promises and your goodness, or lack thereof, was all about the promises you kept—or failed to keep. 

Beyond that, life was also about the risks you took. 

After all those broken promises, Pluck was stuck with risk. 

Risk was something that Sundance had an innate understanding of, his exciting landings were proof of that. During his stint as a medical courier, he flew on days when other couriers refused. Why, he was practically a postpony. While he liked to tell himself that he did what needed to be done to keep the lights on and to keep the rent paid… all of that was bogus. He did it for the thrill and not because he was responsible with a sense of duty. 

Now, he found himself in quite a different space. 

To be responsible and because of his sense of duty, he had to take incredible risks. 

"I made promises to Princess Celestia," Sundance said, his voice wavering in pitch and tone. "And promises to Princess Twilight Sparkle. If I'm honest, I don't even know if I can keep those promises… but I plan to try. What else can I do? The promises I make towards you are no different than the promises I made to the princesses. The consequences are no less real. If I fail you, then I fail them, and that's a heavy thing. A promise is a promise is a promise. It doesn't matter who you make them with, or how, or why… all that matters is that you keep them. I've almost died trying to keep my promises. One day, I might actually die trying to keep my promises. Odds are good. I have no idea where I'm going with this." 

"Pluck, I want to go home." Gerard's scarlet and gold eyes focused solely upon the earth pony colt. "It's a place I've never been. This place, as nice as it is, isn't it. I've been in a lot of places, just like you, and this place is the nicest. But we can't stay here forever. One day, I'll be too old to stay here, and I'll be out on my own. Thunder and Flax, they're little. We have to get them out of here and into someplace normal. You remember what our therapist said about becoming institutionalised. Look what that's done to us. Do you want that for them?" 

"No," Pluck whispered. "I don't." 

"They can still be normal even if we can't," Gerard said to Pluck. "Now, can we end this and go back to pretending that we're kids again? This is stressful and I already feel queasy. I'd rather be a moon pirate." 

Defeated, Pluck sighed, shrugged once, and then stared down at the floor. "Fine. We'll go. I don't feel great about it, but you're right. You're always right. I can't even remember a time when you've been wrong, Gerard. But you'd better be right about this, or you will never hear the end of it. There's a reason I'm called Motormouth. I will never, ever let you hear the end of it if you're wrong. We're putting Flax on the line and she'll pay for our mistakes—" 

"No, we're not. Pluck, we're giving her a life. That's what we promised to do. We're keeping a promise. Things might not turn out like we hope, but I don't think things will turn out wrong. We can't look at every snag and hangup as betrayal, either. Flax and Thunder can be happy. They're still young enough to recover from all of this. You and I though, we'll have to make do. But we could be happy with what we do for them. We could be happy." 

Sullen, Pluck sighed but said nothing to refuse. 

"We'll come with you," Gerard said to Sundance. "Try not to worry about Pluck. He'll come around and the happy act will return. One day, it might even be real. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bring Flax out so that you two can get to know each other." 

"I'd like that," Sundance replied. "Really glad we settled this. I was starting to get pretty stressed out myself…" 
> Mister Blue, you did it right but soon comes Princess Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance held his face beneath the faucet until drenched—but no amount of cold, flowing water could quench the searing fires that burned beneath his face and ears. The sight of the brand had proved to be too much to bear and now, as he stood with his face shoved into the sink, it felt as though his own flesh suffered the hot brand. Such a visual reminder of suffering, misery, and degradation threatened to cauterise his expression into one of permanent rage; it was as if the flesh of his face was but a wax smile and this great heat threatened to melt it away to reveal the bony foundation of naked fury beneath, a bare skull incapable of joyful expression. 

Water dripping, ears sodden, he slowly raised his head to look upon his reflection in the mirror over the sink. The sound of the water running was difficult to hear over the ringing in his ears. Somehow, he'd held himself together just long enough to leave the room. How he managed to do that was unknown to him, given the sort of meltdown he suffered right now. If he could just somehow get himself back together, he could go have lunch with his new wards. 

But right now, he had to worry about his face melting off. 

The pegasus in the mirror was almost a stranger. His waterlogged face twitched, convulsed, and contorted as all the muscles beneath blazed from the emotional inferno. Sundance's right ear—on the left in the mirror—twitched in time to some unheard tempo. A sharp exhale produced a fine mist from Sundance's flared nostrils and left tiny beads of liquid splashed on the mirror. He stared at himself, panting, his sides heaving, fearful of the stranger in the mirror, this rage-beast that he did not recognise. For a few seconds, as he gasped for air, he thought that he might vomit because of his wrath—but the feeling was quick to pass. 

Was this what it meant to be a pegasus? 

Or was this how a pony should react to the evidence of evil in the world? 

Where did the pegasus leave off and the pony begin? 

Again, he shoved his face beneath the faucet and allowed the frigid water to flow over his head with the hopes that it might cool off the furnace within his skull. There was so much that he still didn't know about himself, and this was a stark reminder of that. Never in his life had he reacted like this; why, he could barely even recall leaving the room and the details were hazy recollections at best. Was he a pegasus or a thundercloud? Some threshold, now crossed, was an unknown point of no return that just crept up on him from out of the blue. One moment, he was Sundance, a pony who had some awareness that there was trouble in the world. The next, he had to wrangle his sudden outburst of truly murderous rage so that others wouldn't see, so they wouldn't know. 

A long viscous ribbon of drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth and hung down into the sink. 

In moments just like this one, he could almost hear the voices of his mother and his grandmother, all those things they told him about what it was to be a pegasus, and he recalled how he dismissed those things because he was so submissive and passive. Now, with his head crammed into the sink below the gushing faucet, he wished he'd listened. There was probably a lot of good advice passed along, and he could vaguely remember his grandmother warning him that pegasus ponies were angry hotheaded brutes. It was something that he would have to learn to cope with. Like right now, at this very moment, he was not prepared for the beast that lurked within, the terrific tarrasquian temper that tormented every fibre of his being. 

The ribbon of drool swayed from side to side as Sundance trembled. 

Trapped in the world beyond the mirror, Sundance's doppelganger had a baleful bloodshot stare. His long, shaggy blue mane gave him an unkempt appearance, and the fuzz inside of his ears hadn't been trimmed for quite some time. There were no barbers in the barony. Much to his surprise, he found a scar on his chin, one that he couldn't remember getting. It could not be seen, not exactly, but the evidence of its existence was a tiny tuft of fuzz that went against the grain and pointed in the wrong direction. Being thoroughly saturated with water had turned his sunny ochre hide a damp shade of sodden orange. 

The pony in the mirror was not the pony that had left home to visit his distant grandmother, oh no. That pony was now a face on a milk carton and little else. A memory as ephemeral as crispiness on toast when smothered with butter. Sundance had trouble remembering all of the past versions of himself, his school-age self most of all. That kid and his jutting underbite was gone. After so many years of torment, he'd finally grown into his jaw and didn't look like such a dweeb. As much as it shamed him to admit this, Sundance was glad to see that loser go, because he was the worst. 

Chlorine stung his eyes; it had been a while since he was last exposed to city water. Vision blurry, he mumbled a curse and more glistening droplets dotted his reflection. But the blurriness did not abate; it did not go away. If anything, his smeared vision grew worse. The sting went away with but a few blinks, just as it always did, but the pony in the mirror remained indistinct, distorted, a stretched parody found within a funhouse mirror. Sundance squinted to see himself better and the bouncy string of drool finally broke free from the corner of his mouth. 

Curiously, his reflection turned blue. It was just a hint of blue at first, as if a blue light had been cast upon him, but then the bluification intensified into something bluetastic and bluetiful. Such a soothing shade, a hue that hindered his harrowed thoughts and restored a sense of calm. So this was what blue could do. Sundance watched as his reflection's face rippled, changed in size, and turned oh so very blue—and did so with calm detachment. A horn sprouted from just beneath his forelock and rapidly gained length. 

He could not help but notice that the horn protruded from out of the mirror, into his space. 

There was a princess in the mirror, Princess Luna more specifically, and she regarded him with an almost sorrowful expression. Sundance couldn't help but notice that she wasn't exactly in the mirror; she'd come out of whatever world that lay beyond and invaded this one. A feeling of unsettling disorientation overcame him as he pondered the notion of who was a reflection, and who was not. Was Princess Luna just looking into a mirror and did he happen to show up? Which side of the mirror was real? These thoughts threatened to turn his legs into noodles—or maybe they had always been noodles, but noodles that made the choice to be legs. Perhaps only now they returned to their natural state as reality asserted itself. 

Everything felt really weird. 

"Having a moment, Nephew?" 

Unable to do much else, Sundance blinked. 

"You are shaken, yes?" 

In response, he managed to nod and then say, "That was you in the painting." 

"Indeed, it was. What a peculiar revelation to remark upon when one's Greatest Aunt emerges from the mirror." 

She was close enough that he felt her hot breath upon his nose. 

"Out of all the ponies in Equestria, you just had to mess with my day. Should I feel flattered?" 

"Oh, goodness no, Nephew. Do not believe yourself alone, or special. Right now, I am napping, yet even as I do I am appearing before thousands of others in their moment of need." 

"That's some kind of power you got," he said to her, and them immediately worried about how he spoke. Got? He should have said 'have' so he wouldn't sound like an uneducated boob. "So… Princess of the Night and the Princess Who Occasionally Jumps Out of Mirrors." 

"Power?" One princessly eyebrow arched to a state of impossible perfection. "You have no idea, Nephew. I am asleep in Canterlot right now, yet I can see you quite clearly, and hear your voice. Power beyond comprehension. Which is exactly what troubles you, is it not? I mean, that is the cause of this breakdown you're having. The nature of my power… my sister's power. Our power, to use the Royal We. You find your faith in us shaken. I can see it, clear as night." 

These words gave him pause as he considered what brought him to this state. It was the brand; that awful, awful brand. Scarred flesh. An indelible mark, one of ownership. Yes, he was quite troubled by it, disturbed that the Sisters could allow such a thing to happen. Was this not Equestria? How could such awful things happen with the Sisters in charge. Face dripping, ears limp and slopped against his temples, he focused upon every breath that he felt upon his face from the pony protruding from the mirror, whose face was but mere inches from his own. 

"Yes, yes… you find yourself asking… how could We?" 

"How could you know this?" he asked. 

"You've had a psychic awakening and your mind has opened. Nephew, your thoughts are loud. I am unsure of the cause, but I am aware of the effect." Her lips puckered for a short time, and then formed an inquisitive exaggerated moue. "So very loud. That is why I am so clear and so real to you right now. Your mind wants me to be real. You desire reassurance after your faith was shaken." 

"It was? I had faith?" 

"What else might one call it?" 

"That mark—" 

"That mark"—Princess Luna's tone turned imperious, cold, and austere—"is the mark of the Separatists. Yes, those Separatists. The very ones that scarred your land and despoiled your holdings. Those who waged war not just against Equestria, but against the very idea of Equestria. Three unicorn horns, points outward, held within a ponyshoe. Your land remembers, Nephew, and so do you." 

"Why do they still exist?" asked Sundance. "How could they exist? I mean, we won the war. We won the war and they lost… so they shouldn't exist. How could you let them exist?" 

"They exist"—her words trailed off as the princess grimaced with disgust—"because unicorns go to bed at night hungry. Because they have dreams that are unfilled. Unicorns labour away in factories and other workplaces doing the jobs of many while getting paid to do the job of one. They languish in poverty, wallow in despair, and remember a time when they ruled simply by virtue of being born with a horn. A horn was practically a crown… and for some, it still is. They suffer, as many suffer, and grow bitter with resentment because they believe they deserve better." 

Unable to respond, Sundance waited for Princess Luna to continue. 

"So long as those conditions persist, the Separatists will thrive and find those sympathetic to their cause. Such is the way of things, Nephew. You remember them trampling your sunflowers, do you not?" 

Caught off guard, Sundance hurriedly searched his memories, and was immediately overcome by an avalanche of vivid imagery. Explosions. Tanks. Airships. Fire. Smoke. A sky turned grey and the horizon left obscured by the fog of war. The sea of swaying sunflowers set ablaze. Down in his hooves, he felt tremours, the sensation of tens of thousands of hooves marching, pounding the earth, an approaching army. His ears pricked at the sound of the stuttering chatter of gunfire. A whiff of smoke threatened to make him sneeze all over the princess in the mirror. 

"You saw the brand, and it made you remember… fascinating." 

"How could all of that be allowed to happen?" asked Sundance. "Why was nothing done? How come… how come it still survives? Why isn't it rooted out?" 

"It is dealt with—" 

"No, it isn't." Emboldened by his interruption, Sundance gulped down some air so that he might continue. "If that were true, Flax would not be branded. These ponies exist… and they should not. Why can't you do something? Why hasn't Celestia done something? You have all this power… you can pop out of my mirror while I am having a breakdown… but you can't fix… this?" He spat out his final word with such vehemence that Luna recoiled. 

"It's not that simple—" 

"I don't believe that! You're an all-powerful being! What's the point of having all that power if you do nothing with it?" 

"Nephew…" Luna's tone softened considerably, and something that was a lot like remorse could be heard mid-syllable. "I wish I could make you understand—" 

"You could if you wanted to," he spat out. "I mean, you're messing with my mind right now. You visit me in dreams. With you being… whatever it is that you are, you could make me think whatever it is that you want me to think and do whatever it is that you want me to do. If you wanted to, you could make all the bad parts of me go away. Not just me, but everypony." 

Eyes almost closed, an expression of intense sadness spread over Luna's face like a funeral shroud. "Nephew, how wrong you are, but also how right. I could do that. And have. I have. Trust me, I have." 

"Is it so terrible?" he demanded. 

"Oh, it is," she replied without hesitation. "It would be disastrous were I to free you from the darker elements that exist within your psyche. I could suppress them… or even excise them completely. I could cut them away like a tumour. But the consequences… oh, the consequences of such freedom would be—" 

"I don't believe you," Sundance said with all the force he could muster, which wasn't much at the moment. 

Eyes now open, she raised her head high until she looked down upon him, and said, "Freedom and goodness cannot be imposed upon a pony. That was my mistake. When I tried to impose freedom and goodness upon others, to bring them around to my way of thinking, that was when the Darkness took root within me. Freedom and goodness must ultimately come from within. It is a choice to be made. My sister, wise as she is, figured this out long ago. I did not. It was only recently that I learned this for myself. 

"So you ask, why do I allow for bad things to happen? So that you can choose to do good. If I made that choice for you, if I took that from you, I would rob your life of meaning."

"I still don't get it," he said as he averted his eyes and stared down into the sink, where he left the water running. 

"It was little things at first," Luna said to him in a confessional whisper. "I thought them harmless. My soldiers, loyal to me, I thought to make them more so. I dabbled with their minds… just to see what might happen. It started off with so small a thing. I enhanced their loyalty to me… but took nothing away. I was just reinforcing what was already there. 

"But that was not enough, Nephew. They were soldiers. This… justified my actions. Soldiers must be able to fight. So I began trimming away their free will. They followed orders. Distasteful distractions such as fear were suppressed… and then removed entirely. I began to collect an army of foals because their minds were so much easier to shape… to sculpt. 

"I saw so many improvements in my soldiers that I began to work on the commoners. Little by little. I wasn't hurting them, I was making them better. They were burdened, and so I sought to relieve them. Was that not my duty? As I delved more into this, I began to lose myself. The Darkness overtook me… it whispered such sweet things into my ears about a perfect kingdom, and a perfect princess. 

"As I shaped others, so too did the Darkness shape me." 

"But look at how much of a mess everything is…" Heart heavy, Sundance dared to look the princess in the eye. "Surely there's a middle ground." 

"The only solution is to work on the root of the problem," Luna replied, "which you are already doing. My sister and I, we can guide you. We can help you save others. You can save yourselves. It is possible." 

"So this is why Princess Celestia takes a hooves-off approach. This is why Equestria's Civil War happened. She let it happen and she sat there in Canterlot while we sorted all this out for ourselves." 

"Goodness triumphed—" 

Infuriated, he snapped at her, "But what if it hadn't?" 

"Then my sister would have bided her time, waited patiently, and would have fomented a resistance. She would find the good in others, the fire that would not be quenched, and through them, she would restore light to the world. But make no mistake, you would save yourselves—" 

"A day will come when we fail to save ourselves, and we'll have lost while you do nothing." 

"Do you really believe that, Nephew?" 

"I…"—he hesitated, his words bitter and unpleasant in hindsight—"don't know." 

"Ponies like you are the reason why my sister remains an optimist. You are filled with a desire to do good. To be good. But make no mistake, it is a choice. When you do good, you make the choice to do so. Your goodness would have no meaning were I to take that choice from you. Every day, you rise, you greet the dawn, and you make a choice to do either the easy thing, or the right thing. Evidence suggests that you have yet to pick the easy option. You will suffer, Sundance… oh how you will suffer. Dark forces will align against you and every day the choice to do the easy thing or the right thing will grow ever-harder. One day, it might very well cost you your life. Living will be the easy option." 

"That's not very hopeful." 

"My sister is the optimist, not I. I'm the dark one, remember? All gloom and doom." 

"Realism is not pessimism," he said to her, and much to his satisfaction, Princess Luna seemed to consider his words. "Realism is not pessimism. You can know how things might be but still not expect the worst." 

After several long seconds spent in thought, she replied, "I am grateful that Twilight has aligned herself with a realist. As much as I love my sister, all of her efforts thus far have smacked of idealism. She was out of balance without me. The scales were offset by her weighty ideals. One thousand years of Equestria ruled by idealism. Sure, we've prospered… but look at the mess that was made." 

"And you?" 

"I'm a pragmatist. Which, I'll confess, has caused me no small amount of trouble. But my pragmatism and my sister's idealism balance each other out. Night and day. My sister dreams up grand ideas and I find practical solutions to make them a reality." 

"Funny," he replied, "that the Princess of the Night is not the dreamer." 

"Oh, but I am… but all my dreams and cunning schemes have caused no end of trouble. I no longer trust myself. Without my sister's optimism, all my dreams would lead to the ill-tidings of dark ends." 

"What now?" he asked. 

"You'll wake up," she replied. "This is not a dream, but it is not so different. You are having a moment. Mere seconds have passed. Cadance's psychologists would call this a 'soft break', followed by a hard reset. You saw the brand and were then overcome by memories not even your own. The old enemy presented itself and you remembered a war that you were not present for. 'Tis but a curious thing. Perhaps the tree is to blame. I shall seek out Twilight's advice on the issue." 

"I don't know if I want to wake up," he responded with all the honest earnestness found within him. 

"Go make friends…" Luna's tone was dismissive, but also sincere and caring. "The rewards of doing right await you. The only reward for doing what is easy is convenience. Steel yourself, Nephew. Now… go make friends. Go do good things. Do the right thing. And let not your heart be troubled. Now, on the count of three… 

"One...

"Two… 

"Three." 
> Gimme sugar
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Houseparent Jazz Styles wore a look of sincere concern on his face and his warm eyes never left Sundance. Pale in colour, Jazz wasn't exactly green, nor was he white, but a shade that existed somewhere in between. He wore slightly oversized square glasses with fashionable brown-grey-orange tortoiseshell frames and grey-tinted lenses. Like so many of the others, Jazz resembled something that approached perfection. His cutie mark was a saxophone with a stream of music notes. 

"Feeling alright, friendo?" 

At first, Sundance swallowed, and then he thought about his current state-of-being. Was he alright? It was difficult to even remember going to the bathroom. The brand; he saw the brand and then he hurriedly excused himself before his livid reaction could erupt to ruin the day. No, he wasn't alright. Not at all. He was pretty far from alright, and he worried that he might never be alright ever again. Something about the brand, which he saw as a heretical perversion of a cutie mark, offended his very soul. A symbol of ownership, it was a replacement of destiny and so much more that he couldn't put into words, even if he wanted. 

"Where are the kids?" 

Jazz smiled, but it was a false-smile full of worry and his eyes brimmed with concern. "They were whisked away for a quick therapy session. The final session. One last bit of therapy before discharge. They'll still be joining you for lunch, don't you worry. If you don't mind me saying, you had quite a reaction. I saw you. The empaths saw you. We all did. I'd like to say that we're not scared of you, but we are scared for you." 

As these words sank deep into Sundance's brain, he blinked. "I think I had a pegasus moment. Maybe my first real pegasus moment. I mean, I've been angry before… I have. My hackles go up and something"—he paused for a short breath to consider his next words—"comes over me. And I gotta be honest, when that happens, it scares me a little because I'm not like that. But this… this was totally different. Whatever this was, this was something else entirely. It was like a force of nature welling up inside me." 

"Silent Thunder suffers from primal pegasus rage." 

"There's a name for this?" asked Sundance. 

"Many names for that condition, and no set defined term," Jazz replied. 

"So I'm not crazy?" Sundance found himself both relieved and disturbed at the same time. 

"Crazy? No. Near as I can tell, you're a pegasus. I don't mean that in a tribalist way of course." 

In silence, Sundance nodded at the now-worried unicorn. 

"Each tribe has its quirks," Jazz said in a soft voice. "We're all ponies, and that's something that we have in common. But…" With a fearful expression, he inhaled, as if to prepare himself. "All those stereotypes have a root of truth to them. Pegasus ponies really are brutes. There's no shame in it… savagery was their way of life. The skies are hostile. Your tribe survived because you evolved to deal with every threat, everything that hindered your survival. You bested every challenge, and did so without the luxury of powerful magic. Survival by sheer brute force. That's something to take pride in. Those that survived kept the traits that kept them alive." 

"But it felt so unlike me. Like I was somepony else." 

"I think for a second, you were somepony else. No offense, friendo, but for a moment there, you looked downright medieval." 

"None taken," Sundance replied. "I suppose that's a good thing, seeing as how I'm a baron and all. Maybe I should look downright medieval… when the situation demands it, of course. Wouldn't want to scare the ponies around me." 

"Friendo, I would not want to be in the same room if you met the fool that branded that filly. Not even on the same continent, I think. My mama, she raised me to believe in a few basic principles. You don't take Princess Celestia's name in vain, you don't spit in the wind, and you don't tug on no pegasus pony's feathers unless you want trouble. You had your feathers rustled, I tell you." 

"I suppose I did. Thanks, by the way. I think I feel better. Do you think I scared the kids?" 

"No way… those four, they're some cool little customers. They'll be fine. Ask them for yourself. Seriously. Don't be afraid. Pluck is a lot of things, but he's no coward. He'll tell you straight. And if Gerard was really bent out of shape, he would have blown chunks." 

For Sundance, that rang true; at least, true enough to satisfy. 

"Do you need anything, friendo?" 

"A cup of tea," Sundance replied right away. "I gotta drive away this onset of hooliganism before something awful happens." 



 

The cup of tea was ridiculously oversized. A symbol of the excess found in the west. It wasn't even a mug, but more of a soup bowl. Sundance held it between his hooves and inhaled the fragrant, soothing vapour that rose in whirling curls to entice his nose. Tea wasn't just drank, no. Sometimes, tea was experienced, like now. A teapot sat on the table before Sundance, along with a pitcher of cream and a matching sugarbowl. With every deep breath he took, he filled his lungs with perfumed goodness, which eased his troubled mind. 

Jazz, who stood near the door, remarked, "You look better."

To which Sundance replied, "I feel better. Thank you." 

Eyes half-closed, or perhaps half-open, depending on if one was a pessimist or optimist, Sundance allowed the scent of tea to work its magic. He was in some sort of employee break room, which opened up into the central cafeteria. Lunch would be served here, so he and his wards could have a quiet meal together in private. As the tempestuous fury subsided, and reason returned, Sundance could not help but think the most awful thoughts. If he could bury a splitting maul into an owlbear's skull, he shuddered to think of what he might do to a pony that branded other ponies. And he could do it, too. He could do it, he knew it, and it scared him to discover what he was capable of when sunk into the depths of his anger. A part of him was downright bothered by this, because it was no 'what-if' scenario. He'd attacked the owlbear without hesitation, without thought, something that he would have never believed himself capable of. 

What else might he be capable of? 

"Unless there is anything else you need, I'll be off to tend to others." 

"I'm good. Thank you. Seriously. You've been a big help, Jazz." 

"I'm glad I could be of service. The best life is one spent in service of others… but you already know this. Be well, Sundance. There's a call button on the wall, right next to the lightswitch if you need anything. Don't let life turn you medieval, friendo." 

As Jazz Styles slipped out the door, Sundance turned to look at the lightswitch and the call button. Right up above them was a small rectangular sign reminding all employees to wear a smile. Beside it was a sign with a list of ways to be sincere and heartfelt. Next to that was a bulletin board covered in paper. Down in the corner of the board was a yellow sheet of paper with words written in bright red ink, a reminder that there was an employee support group available. It occurred to Sundance that this was a good place. This wasn't some nightmare orphanage like the ones they made horror movies about, nor was it some alicorn-forsaken hospital—which was also the subject of scary cinema. 

With a cup of tea held between his hooves, Sundance thought of his now-departed grandmother. He allowed the thoughts to come, he welcomed them and allowed them to wash over him like a rush of cool wind. She had warned him, told him stories, and he had always believed that he was too much like his father to ever act like that. If only she could see him as he was—if only she could see how much he'd grown. What might his mother say? 

The first slurp of tea was a bit too hot, but he swallowed some anyway. 

He was a medieval pegasus; he lived in a castle. Sort of. He lived in a gatehouse, which was rather castlelike and had a tower. Sort of. The bell tower served mostly as a place for owls to gather and gossip about the goings on of the barony. On a display rack at home, he had a suit of armor made from the bones of a dead owlbear. That was pretty medieval. Why, he had a chariot—sort of—and he'd hauled a wizard through the skies so that she could rain down fiery destruction. That… that was downright medieval. Old school. The days of yore, or maybe even yesteryore—however long ago it was when pegasus ponies and unicorns together were the terrors of the skies. 

And then there was his nurse. 

Oh, she was a good nurse. 

A great nurse. 

Maybe the best nurse. 

But he had vivid memories of how she mauled spiders. 

Not only was he a medieval pegasus, but he had himself a medieval nurse. 

He was almost certain that Corduroy could unscrew something's head and pour their humours out. 

If that wasn't medieval, then nothing was. 

The fact that she didn't was proof that she was a good dog. 

Perhaps the best dog. 

Dogs made the best friends, of this Sundance was certain. 



 

One by one, they filed in; Gerard led the way and had Flax upon his back. Pluck followed, and Silent Thunder brought up the rear. There was a lingering awkwardness that Sundance fretted over, because he'd left the room in a bit of a hurry so that he might escape into the bathroom before he lost himself completely. What if he scared them? Or worse? Yet, they more or less seemed fine—though they did just come out of what was their discharge therapy session. So maybe if something was wrong, it was already worked out. The not-knowing led to a lot of tension, and Sundance could already feel his stomach muscles grow taut. 

Flax was lifted up, put on top of the table, patted on the head by the griffon, and then the three boys sat down. Sundance saw the brand and his pulse effectively doubled at the sight of it. For a second or three, he could see nothing but the brand, a hairless mark of scar tissue on Flax's right hip. Sweat rolled down his neck and his scars itched to the point where he wanted to roll over onto his back to scratch them. Gerard was so big compared to little Flax; for whatever reason, Sundance's mind seized upon this. The griffon could completely encircle his talons around her tiny, lithe body. 

There was cruelty in the world, that much was evident, but also kindness. 

"I'm sorry," Sundance said because he felt an apology was in order. 

"For what?" Pluck, who responded, focused his surviving eye on Sundance. 

"For scaring you, if I did. I don't know what came over me. In fact, I barely even remember it happening. It's all a blur." 

"You got mad," Pluck said matter-of-factly. "And that makes me feel better. I wasn't scared at all." 

"It made you feel better?" Unable to hide his incredulity, Sundance stared agape at the young earth pony. 

"The houseparents see it, and they have very clinical reactions. There's all this restraint. They hold back and most of them have this fake response and a few words about how senseless and unfortunate it is. And I hate it. In fact, I've spent hours in therapy talking about just how much I hate it and how much it makes me want to kick something. I'm pretty sure that you wanted to kick something. I felt justified." 

"I see." Unsure of what else to say, Sundance gave careful thought to the colt's words. 

"Just don't be sorry for how you feel, please?" asked Pluck. 

"I was so worried that I'd scared you," Sundance said to all of them. "Sometimes, when grown-ups get mad, it can be scary. I remember how scary it was when my mom got mad." 

"We're not like other kids," Gerard said to Sundance. "If you want to scare us, you'll have to do better than that. But Pluck is right. It was nice to see a heartfelt reaction that wasn't so clinical." 

"I got tired of Flax's brand being something to work through rather than be something to experience," Pluck said in a thoughtful manner. "And that's the problem. That's our problem. Everything here is clinical. Artificial. I mean, don't get me wrong. This place is great. But Gerard is right. We need to get out of here. Real life awaits." 

"So you're on board," Sundance said to Pluck. 

"Only because it's good for Flax…" Then, in a much lower voice he added, "And because you got angry about what was done to her." 

"Want some tea, Flax?" asked Gerard. 

"Yes." Her head bobbed as she looked up at the griffon with her eyes alight from worshipful adoration. "Pwease. More sugar." 

Sundance, who held his own teacup, watched as the griffon busied himself. The tea was poured into a shallow saucer, a few sugar cubes were plopped into the middle, and then there was a tiny splash of cream. This was then pushed in front of Flax, who warily gave it a watchful stare. Gerard snapped his talons, and then pointed with his index talon-finger. Silent Thunder lept into action and immediately began blowing on the hot tea, which rippled in the saucer. 

For everything awful in the world, there was good too, and Sundance took comfort in that. These kids had little, but they had each other. The same was true for the residents of his barony. Back home, there was a tight-knit closeness that went beyond family. A faint sigh that was more of a groan escaped Sundance while he thought about how that might change as they grew. Beyond the box canyon castle, there would be new settlements. Homesteaders would build their own little settlements. Eventually, there would be too many residents for him to have a solid relationship with all of them. His lands would become a microcosm of Equestria, and he himself would become more like Princess Celestia. 

But he would make the most of what he had while he had it. 

"More sugar?" the tiny filly asked of her griffon protector. 

"No," Gerard replied, "you'll rot your teeth." 

In return, the filly snorted in contempt and banged her front hooves against the table. 

"What's it like, raising her?" asked Sundance. 

Gerard's movements were quick, sudden, and smooth. Almost mechanical, but not jerky. There was precision in his every movement, like the fine motion of a well-made watch as a hand ticked off the seconds. His head tilted one way, then another way, and he blinked his scarlet-gold eyes. It was almost unsettling, because Gerard's movements were not at all equine; they were avian and rather predatory. He blinked again, flexed his talons, and then looked down at the donkey filly that stared up at him with her lower lip jutting out. 

"I hadn't thought of it as raising her," he replied with complete honesty. "The only point of reference I have is that Princess Twilight raised Spike the Dragon. Are they not siblings? Family? Princess Twilight has never said that she is Spike's mother, as far as I know. I consider myself Flax's brother, and she's my sister. But right now, at this moment, I do wonder how she sees me." 

"Booger-bird," the filly said under her breath. 

"Well, that's not going to get you more sugar," Gerard said to the tiny, pouty filly. 

"But… sugar…" she pleaded with him, her lower lip now quivering. 

"Thunder has been giving you lessons again, hasn't he?" 

Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, Flax seemed quite surprised by this statement, and she wagged her head from side to side, from left to right in an emphatic no. Implicated as he was, Silent Thunder seemed more than a little bothered by this development, and ceased to blow upon the saucer of tea to cool it off. Head low, Pluck snickered, while Gerard's piercing eyes remained focused on the filly before him. 

"Let me guess… how dare I call you out on this?" asked Gerard. 

Flax's head-wag turned into a nod—but then she caught on to the ruse and went still. 

More than a little amused, Sundance slurped his tea, and took in a bit too much. He almost sputtered, and the roof of his mouth tried to tell him that it was about to be cooked. When he swallowed, the hot tea caused some serious discomfort all the way down, but he managed. When he had himself another slurp, he was a bit more careful. The griffon and the donkey filly continued their contest of wills. It occurred to Sundance that with Gerard, Hollyhock wasn't getting another sob story to fawn over and mother, but a helper. A capable, content helper—one that understood how the game was played. 

The other little ones wouldn't know what hit them. 

"More sugar?" Eyes wide, ears limp, the little filly put everything she had into her efforts. 

"I'm starting to think that you don't like tea… but that you do like sugar," Gerard remarked while he smoothed out Flax's unruly tuft of mane. 

"Sugar is sweet… me am too." 

"Flax, the baby talk won't work on me," Gerard said to her. 

Annoyed and more than a little aggravated, the little fawny, tawny filly spat out, "Drats!" 

Pluck, his tone casual and smooth, said to Sundance, "This happens every day. Flax tries a little bit harder to get some sugar, and Gerard has to resist. Sometimes, Flax has temper tantrums—" 

"Do not!" 

"—but Gerard never loses his patience. Never-ever. I don't know how he does it." 

Kicking her hind legs, Flax twisted and bounced her body away from Gerard and turned her freckled, speckled back towards him. Now pouting, her thin, tufted tail slapped against the table as she ramped up her efforts to let the griffon know that she was now ignoring him. Unphased by her actions, Gerard shrugged, waved at Silent Thunder to let the pegasus colt know that he could stop blowing, and then the griffon leveled his avian gaze upon Sundance. 

Sensing opportunity, Sundance asked, "Do you need a hug?" 

"You're a stranger," the filly replied through a pouty, puckered scowl. 

"But I'm no danger." 

"Hmmph." She shook her head with enough force that it caused her tuft of mane to spring up. 

Like Tarantula Sombrero, Flax wasn't so different from a pony. Oh, her face had some differences, and she had long ears like a bunny, but those were minor dissimilarities. One thing that stood out was the fact that she was shaggier, with a denser, hairier hide than a pony. Yes, she was a little fuzzball and it was obvious that a lot of time was spent brushing her, otherwise, she'd be a matted mess. She was clean, well-kept, and pretty much perfect—but the sight of her brand still caused Sundance to tremble from the dull ache of his fury. 

"I was hoping that we could be friends," Sundance said to the finicky, sugar-loving foal. "I have other friends too… little ones just like you. There's even a few infants back home. Well"—he considered his words, uncertain—"I'm not sure they're still infants. But they're young. Just a few months old. And very cute. I'm fond of them…" As his words trailed off into nothing, he realised that he was out of words to say. 

But the intercom saved him from his sudden floundering. 

"Lunch will be served in five minutes." 
> We're afraid to be alone... everypony got to have a home... isolation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A cart with multiple trays and serving dishes was wheeled in, parked next to the table, and then unloaded. The unicorn stallion wore a blue vest, with a light blue bow tie, and had a nametag just below his collar. On said tag was the name Sundown Shores, which Sundance knew to be a reference to the west coast. This unicorn, not yet perfect, happened to be a work in progress, and Sundance saw the dental retainer. 

There was a second teapot, of which Gerard took particular interest. Why, the young griffon didn't even wait for it to be unloaded—he did it himself with a quick snatch of his talons—and then inhaled the fragrant vapours that curled up from the spout. Something, while not exactly wrong, wasn't wholly right, and Sundown Shores paused briefly while the young griffon almost hugged the filched teapot. 

"It has a bit of cayenne in it, just how you like," Sundown Shores said to Gerard. 

"You put that in tea?" asked Sundance. 

"That's not tea," Sundown Shores said to Sundance. 

"It is my tea," Gerard—who was now puffed out defensively—said to both adults. "This is bone broth. Delicious bone broth. With savoury herbs and cayenne pepper." 

"Oh…" Sundance, his mouth a bit dry, swallowed and reminded himself that it was not his place to judge. "Well, just so long it keeps the hooliganism away, we'll call it tea." 

Gerard's head tilted left, then right, left again, right once more, and then he focused his left red-gold eye upon Sundance. "That's kind of you to say. Others might not be so kind." 

As he unloaded the cafeteria serving trays and dishes, Sundown Shores smiled, revealing his retainer. "It is all young Gerard has of his kind and culture. He is not a common griffon. Not long after he was brought here, we reunited him with the special broth drink his kind are known for. We even taught him how to prepare it. As it turns out, Gerard is an excellent cook… or one day will be if he maintains his interest in it." 

"That's really neat, actually." Sundance, his cup held between his front hooves, raised it in salute to Gerard. 

"He was ashamed to drink it for a while," Sundown Shores continued while Gerard squirmed. "Was worried that we ponies might judge him. Cared a bit too much of what others thought of him. You may wish to keep that in mind when you go home. There's bound to be a period of adjustment." 

"I'll keep that in mind," Sundance replied. 

Unwilling or perhaps unable to wait until everything was served, Gerard poured himself a cup of steaming brown liquid. It wasn't tea as Sundance knew it, but it had recognisable elements. Eager anticipation, a near infectious state of joy, the need to hurry up to get a cup, and all of the pleasurable sensory enjoyment. It had a similar ritual and a familiar outcome. And the joy… there was visible joy on the young griffon's face, and this ebullience could be seen in his body language, in his every movement. Sundance recognised it, he'd seen it before in his grandmother and his mother. 

"Yuck juice," Flax said to nopony in particular. 

Smirking, Pluck said, "You were told not to drink it—" 

"Thought it was tea," the wee filly said. "Was gross. Yuck." 

"Well"—Sundance inhaled until his lungs were full, to the point where they almost stung—"some ponies think tea is gross too. And they put way too much sugar in it to hide the taste." 

After a moment, the donkey filly turned her head, stared at Sundance, and frowned. When she blinked, her long eyelashes threatened to tangle, and her expression could only be described as righteously indignant. What he'd said struck a nerve, there could be no doubt about it. There was such intelligence in her eyes, such understanding—and such annoyance. Why, she was truly peeved about the snide remark. 

Across the table, Pluck began to chortle. 

"Shu'p," Flax said to the earth pony colt without even looking at him. "Rude. Rude!" 

"All of you are almost acting like a perfectly normal family." As he spoke, Sundown Shores put down the last serving dish, which was full of green leafy salad. "Gives me hope. We don't need normal, regular parents, we need snarky parents willing to take in snarky kids… because that's all we got here are snarky kids. Especially these four." Then, whilst he pointed at Silent Thunder, he added, "That one most of all. The Silent Snarker. The Snark in the Grass. He's my favourite. You have to keep your eyes on this kid. There isn't an actor in all of Applewood that has this kid's natural talent." 

Something that was almost a smile crept over Silent Thunder's face. 

It gave Sundance chills to witness it. 

"All of you… enjoy yourselves. If you need assistance, there's a call button by the light switch. I wish all of you the best of luck. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave." 

And with that, Sundown Shores hurried out of the room. 



 

Lunch, whatever it was, just so happened to be covered by lids. Sundance had no idea if the lids had a name, but they were little domes that covered the plates so the food would stay warm. In a really fancy place, these lids were made of metal, like shiny steel, but here, in this place, they were made of plastic with a pebbly texture. It was exactly the sort of thing that thwarted ponies that didn't have magic, with slippery sloped sides. With magic, it would come right off, but Sundance lacked the sort of magic that allowed for this convenience. However, Gerard had hands with dextrous talon-fingers. 

Perhaps the point was to give Gerard a chance to show off how useful he could be. 

Sundance thought it was a stupid point to make. 

Yet, he understood the point had to be made. Gerard was useful; he had hands, the ability to cook, and no doubt a variety of domestic skills. If he was useful enough, somepony might take a chance on him. Allowing him to show off his skills might even out the stacked odds against him. So would displaying his natural aptitude for foalcare. All these thoughts left Sundance in a conflicted state, which became even more muddled when he paused to wonder if this was intelligence or wisdom at work, and if he were smart or wise for entertaining this awareness. 

"I don't want—" 

"You are going to eat some salad, little lady," Gerard said before the filly could finish. 

She inhaled, her cheeks puffed out, and her long ears twitched with revulsion. 

Reaching over, Gerard pulled off the plate cover from Silent Thunder's food, and there was a gasp of pleasurable surprise from the pegasus colt. So intent was Sundance on observing Silent Thunder's face that he failed to notice what was for lunch. Meanwhile, Gerard removed the other plate covers and set them aside on the cart. Overcome with anticipation, Pluck rubbed his front hooves together whilst he licked his lips. It was just the sort of visceral reaction that one might expect from such an adventurous colt. 

"Sandwich!" Flax shrieked. 

Gerard froze in place, almost comically so, and with his head tilted to a completely vertical angle, with one eye pointed at the ceiling and the other at the table, the befuddled griffon stared right at the filly and said, "This is lasagna." 

"Looks like sandwich," she said while recoiling in horror. 

"This"—the patient griffon extended one talon-finger to point down at his own food—"is lasagna." 

"Sandwich." Terrified, Flax banged her front hooves against the table and then butt-scooted away with surprising speed. 

"Laa-saa-nya," Gerard said, carefully pronouncing each syllable. 

"Sand-wich," Flax retorted as she scooted a bit too close to Sundance. 

"Pluck, what is this?" The griffon demanded whilst he stabbed his talon-finger at his food. 

"Sandwich," Flax said before the one-eyed colt could respond. "Has bread. And stuff in middle." 

"Those are noodles." With a tilt of his head, Gerard reset his eyes to be horizontal once more. "Pasta. Flax, you've had lasagna before. You like it. This isn't a sandwich." 

"Sees like a sandwich. Can't unsee." Again, the filly scooted across the tabletop, away from the dreaded lasagna sandwich. "Bread, noodle, all the same. Scary!" 

Unable to say anything about the current predicament, Silent Thunder facehoofed. 

"Is this why they call it the 'terrible twos'?" asked Pluck, who kept his surviving eye upon his steaming plate. "Ooh, cottage cheese. Yummy." 

"Gross!" Flax retreated even more. "Curdled milk. Yucko." 

"But you like cottage cheese—" 

"No I don't, Booger-bird!" 

"Oh yes you do!" 

"But now it looks gross and I don't like it!" 

Now, Gerard's feathers were ruffled. Figuratively and literally. While the griffon hadn't lost his cool, Sundance could see tell-tale signs that he was, at the very least, annoyed with Flax. But there was still kindness found in those strange red-gold eyes, and none of the griffon's many movements seemed particularly angry. The only thing that Sundance knew for certain was that Flax wasn't acting; this wasn't a ruse, she was genuinely afraid. Almost terrified, in fact, as revealed by the way that her tiny barrel heaved and her curious pupil response. 

Like so many other things, Sundance knew that what he was about to do was a risk, and a terrible one at that. It was a daredevil stunt, one that might end badly. He waited patiently, and when Flax turned her full attention upon the offending lasagna once more, he saw his opportunity. With a smooth, swift rush of motion, he reached out, corralled her in his forelegs, lifted her up, pulled her close to him, and then embraced her. She cried out, a wordless sound, kicked a bit, squirmed, struggled, fidgeted, and then went very still. 

The proverbial pin drop that happened in moments like this one might've been deafening. 

She whined, sniffled, whined again, and then curled herself up into a tight ball while she pressed her head against Sundance's neck. Almost instinctively, Sundance slipped one foreleg beneath her to support her a little better, and then he leaned back in his chair so that he might enjoy the moment. Every snuffle was precious to him and he was grateful for this moment to gain her trust. As for the three boys across the table, each of them watched, waited, and wore different expressions. 

"Oh, he's good," Pluck remarked with an air of casual calm. 

With both eyes on his lasagna, Silent Thunder nodded. 

"Are we friends now?" Sundance asked of the little filly he held. 

There was no response of any sort, so Sundance once more turned his attention upon Gerard. "You're patient with her. Good and kind. I'm pointing this out, because you don't have to be. In fact, if I can be blunt and honest, I'd say that you got saddled as a foalsitter. You might not have to look after Pluck so much, but Thunder and Flax are little enough that they need constant attention." 

This comment earned Sundance the silent ire of the pegasus colt. 

"I don't mind." Half-shrugging, the griffon flexed his talons, and then reached up to smooth down neck feathers so ruffled that they revealed pink skin beneath. 

"Really. You don't mind? I mean, I don't want to sound doubtful, but you've got to be near that age where you do mind a little." 

"Sundance"—the scarlet-gold eyes had piercing intensity—"I don't mind. I've seen life end. Seen how blood pours out like sands from an hourglass and brings time to an end. After seeing that… after all that's happened, I want to see life continue. Life has good bits and bad bits, and even some awful bits… but it is still life. Every time I start to lose my patience, I remind myself that life is precious." 

"This is all he talks about in therapy—" 

"Don't make fun of it, Pluck." 

"I wasn't going to make fun of it… for once." Hunched over, Pluck cast a sidelong glance at Gerard, and then his downcast eyes returned to his plate. Then, in a low whisper, he added, "Some of it is rubbing off on me, I think… and I hate it." 

"You hate it? Why?" 

"Because… life was easier when I didn't care about life." A sigh was heaved, and then Pluck squeezed his eyes shut. "Just shut up about it, alright? It's lunchtime. Not therapy time. Just let me do my own thing." 

"Sure, Pluck… but we'll talk later." 

"Oh, bother." Eyes now open, Pluck scowled. "Shoulda kept my mouth shut." 

Sundance looked down and saw that Flax was looking up at him with wide amber eyes. There were little flakes of gold to be found in those eyes, and no doubt other hidden treasures could be found within those depths. She was calm now, her terror gone, but Sundance knew that this was just a temporary state, a bit of quiet between tempestuous storms. Gerard and Pluck continued to have their moment, but whatever exchange happened between them now was done in silence. 

"Why don't you like salad?" Sundance asked Flax. "Don't like yucky greens?" 

"Greens good." The filly's response was an almost inaudible whisper. "Salad has too many tastes. Too many. Too much." 

"Oh, so you like the greens, but you don't like them together. Is that what you're saying?" 

She made the bare minimum of effort to shrug and then said, "Yuh." 

Lost in thought, Sundance found that he could relate. When his grandmother took him out for ice cream sundaes, he didn't like strawberry and chocolate syrup mixed together. Individually, they were delicious, and he loved them, but together, they overwhelmed his senses and he found them revolting. It wasn't until he was older that he developed a taste for the two when mixed together. What might his grandmother say right now? What words of wisdom might she have to offer? Knowing his grandmother… there was a good chance that she would just make Flax eat her greens. Some things in life demanded a simple and direct approach. You could only worry about so much, and because of that, you had to pick your battles. 

"Do you want to come home with me, Flax?" 

All of her muscles tensed and her eyes closed. 

"It'll be nice, I promise. You'll have lots of other little ones to play with, and there will be a great big family with lots of grandmas and grandpas… a lot of my peasants are old, Flax. They're a bit kooky and odd, but they've lived so long without foals around that they truly love them. You'll get so much attention… you'll be loved and adored. That's the thing, Flax. Sometimes… well, sometimes we don't appreciate what we have until we don't have it. By doing without, we learn to be grateful for what we've been given. And the old coots in my barony, they went without foals for a long, long time. What I am trying to say is, if you come home with me, you'll be very precious to them." 

"I don't know my mama," the filly murmured. "Can't 'member. Just gone." 

"Do you feel bad that you want a new mom?" asked Sundance, who dared to fly in this strange new territory. 

"Sometimes," she replied as her muscles bunched even tighter. 

"That sounds really hard." Mindful of his words, and fearful that he might sound patronising somehow, in some way, Sundance wasn't sure of what to say. These skies were unknown to him, and the unknown posed the worst sort of danger. "Mothers want their foals to be happy." He reconsidered his words; only good mothers wanted their foals to be happy, and bad mothers didn't care. But he dared not speak these words aloud. 

"Your mother would want you to be happy. Every mother wants to know that their precious foal is looked after, even if it is by another mom. That's how moms are." Well, good mothers, anyhow, he thought to himself. What had life done to him that he now thought this way? At some point, something had gone wrong, or he was exposed to something that changed him profoundly. The infallible goodness of motherhood was tarnished somewhere along the way. 

What had life done to him? 

He'd left his apartment. Yes, he'd left his apartment after he'd finished his project, and then he'd been exposed to the world. Not the world as seen in newspapers, or in movies, or found in books and print. And most certainly not the world just outside his window, where the elevated train passed every half-an-hour or so, rattling as it trundled along the tracks, spewing out black snowflakes that drifted down to the streets below. Fearful of his own realisations, he squeezed Flax a little tighter, as if to ward off any potential epiphanies that lurked in the boggy primordial mire of his subconscious. 

His words seemed dishonest. Bitter. Even as he said something, he thought of something else. There were lurking caveats to the things he had to say, clauses that he had to clarify in his thoughts even if he didn't say them aloud. He could not help but wonder: did Princess Celestia feel this way? After all of the life that she'd seen… after all that she'd experienced. Her thoughts must read like a legal contract, with clauses, provisions, and stipulations—the mind of a bureaucrat in action. 

The invisible circlet upon his brow grew a little heavier in the wearing. 

Even worse, he felt bad because he'd grabbed her, as if he'd betrayed her trust somehow. But due to his own inexperience, he could think of no other way to establish this initial bit of trust. Things were fine now. She seemed happy enough and he was almost certain that if he tried to put her down, she would protest. Could a pony do the right thing for the wrong reasons? Or the wrong thing for the right reasons? Was this a matter of doing what was necessary for her own good—and as a baron, just how far did this line of reasoning extend into the lives of others? Almost buried by his own thoughts, he gave Flax a squeeze and hoped that the long flight home would give him the time he needed to sort all of this out. 

"I don't know what to think," Pluck announced. 

"Huh?" Startled into awareness, Sundance blinked a few times to clear his head. "I'm sorry?" 

"The way you are with Flax. You seem like you actually care." Pluck's face darkened, and his eyes were full to brimming with something, perhaps frustration. "You hardly even know her. You just met her, in fact. But look at you. I get mad sometimes, because I can't tell when ponies actually care because they care or because it is their job to care. Sometimes, it seems like Flax is just a task to them. A chore. They can't possibly care as much about her as we do." 

Beside Pluck, Gerard nodded as he poured red fruit punch into pink, blue, and yellow plastic tumblers. "Pluck talks about this all the time in therapy. The houseparents constantly have to assure him that they care… and he constantly questions their every action. Sometimes"—the griffon's eyes narrowed and he cast a furtive side-to-side glance around him—"their reaction gives them away. They care because it is their job to care. Maybe that's not a bad thing… they do care, after all. But Pluck is right. They don't care about her the way that we do. But maybe that's the point. We are supposed to care for each other, and be our own support group. Maybe everything is working out as intended." 

"I hadn't thought of it that way." As he spoke, the young earth pony colt rubbed his chin. 

"Sometimes, you are so single-minded about protecting Flax that you don't think at all." 

"Thank you, Captain Barf Buzzard, for that astute observation." 

"Not a problem, Captain Motormouth." 

"What is the world coming to when the important thinking is left to a birdbrain?" 

At this, Gerard froze. He held the pitcher in his left talons, slightly tilted, but not enough to pour. A rather deadpan expression took over his face, at the parts capable of said expression, which did not include his beak. Silent Thunder shook with mute laughter, but this ceased right away when the griffon turned his baleful stare upon him. Then the mute colt imitated the griffon's every movement, every action, his every expression. As it turned out, an equine could, in fact, make themselves appear to be quite avian, and Silent Thunder did so. After a prolonged silent exchange, Gerard gave up, rolled his eyes, and turned away with a huff of disgust. 

"That's what's wrong with our group," Pluck remarked. "There's two birdbrains. Lemme tell you…" His words trailed off into a faint wheeze when he noticed both Gerard and Silent Thunder glaring glarefully in his general direction. "Right… sorry… three birdbrains now." 

It took Sundance several long seconds before the joke detonated between his ears, and when it did… it took everything he had in him to maintain his solemn expression. He stroked Flax's long ears, wrapping his fetlock around their length, and he gave the one-eyed colt across the table a cool stare. For his part, Pluck seemed pretty cool under pressure, and that in and of itself was funny. There was an exaggerated expression of aggression on Silent Thunder's face and the silent colt glared daggers at the earth pony that sat on the far side of Gerard. 

"I'm the only one with horse-sense," Pluck announced. 

"Wait…" Gerard put the pitcher down, turned to face Pluck, and then held up one talon-finger as if to indicate that he planned to say more. "Does this mean that you accept Sundance as one of us now?" 

All of Pluck's cool vanished in an eyeblink, and the colt was visibly startled. But he was quick to recover. Though still somewhat shaken by Gerard's words, he nodded, and then said, "Yeah, I guess I do. For now. But he's on probation. I stand by what I said in our final therapy session. There are no words that will sway me. Only actions." 

"Fair enough," the griffon replied. "Let's eat." 
> One adult and four kids walk into a bar
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The desert sands had not yet begun to shimmer. What promised to be a spectacular dawn stained the skies a multitude of purple, pink, and gold hues. Pink cactus blossoms seemed especially vivid in the pale light cast by the encroaching dawn. Swirling eddies of dust and grit cavorted around fence posts and caused the greenery to sway, a dance to greet the dawn. For Sundance, the desert was beautiful, but it was not home, and he couldn't imagine taking up residence here. 

Sundance stood upon the runway, strapped in and ready to go. Behind him, the sky truck waited for its precious cargo, and it had been made a bit more comfortable for the long trip. A steamer trunk took up most of the rear, and there wasn't a lot of room left for the kids, but they would have to manage somehow. This would be a long haul, but he was ready for it, he longed to be in the middle of the great wide nothingness that was the sky. He knew the flight would clear his head. 

As for the foursome, they said their goodbyes. Not just to houseparents, but to their friends. Quite a sizeable crowd had formed near the runway, some of them still sleepy and bleary eyed. Some were teary, others happy, and Sundance suspected that more than a few wanted to come with. But that wasn't possible. Eager to go, he shuffled about, his tack jangling with every step. There were hugs, and goodbyes, and big hugs goodbye, and these were things that could not be rushed. 

They were leaving it all behind. Sundance felt awful for them, but these relationships were always doomed to be temporary. There was no choice but to make friends, for such was the nature of the program, but these friendships were like ice cream on a hot summer day. Sundance wondered what Twilight might think of all of this, and he made a mental note to ask her opinion when he saw her next. Which might be soon, because they had a scheduled stop in Ponyville. While he wanted to be home, the return trip would take longer. Plus, the little ones would need to go potty, and eat, and not everypony was cut out to be an endurance flier. Or an endurance passenger, as the case may be. Plus, there was darkness to worry about. 

Eyes pointed homewards, Sundance awaited takeoff. 





A thin red line races towards Ponyville, unerring, straight, and true…



 

It was late afternoon, or perhaps almost evening. Sweaty, disheveled, and hot, Sundance had battled a downright dreadful headwind for most of the trip northward to Ponyville. He'd maintained speed, but at quite a cost to himself. Now he was dehydrated, hungry, and on the verge of complete exhaustion. But, he and the kids had made it to civilisation, which was the best that he could hope for. Equestria was dangerous, the wilds even more so, and he steadfastly refused to land in an unknown place that might pose a risk. 

The ponies of Ponyville watched him, some with smiles, others with unabashed inquisitiveness. Sundance didn't mind. His landing? Perfect. Why, he barely even jostled his precious cargo. But now his knees wobbled beneath him and threatened to betray him if he didn't find food soon. And a restroom. Or even an outhouse, he was no longer picky. A bush would do if necessary, he didn't mind at all. He cast his observant gaze to and fro, unsure of what he would find, and after he looked this way, and that way, and then over there, followed by that-a-way, he saw a wooden sign with a steaming bowl. From the looks of it, he found a restaurant, but what sort was unknown. Perhaps a soup place. 

"I gotta potty," Flax said. 

"I know," Sundance replied. 

"Potty egermency," she said just to make her needs clear. 

"One second—" 

"No, one second, no," the filly insisted. "Now." 

"Alright, alright, hold on. Gerard, We're going into that place with the wooden bowl on the sign. Take Flax in there and get her to the potty. I'll park the truck. Pluck, Thunder, you go with. Stick together. I'll be right inside in just a few minutes." 

"Right… so I'm in charge—" 

"Favouritism!" Pluck shouted. 

"Just get inside, you goons," Sundance said to his wards. 

"Goons?" Pluck's voice had a note of annoyance. "If my teeth weren't floating, I'd have a snappy comeback—" 

"Yeah, but with your teeth floating, all you have are soggy comebacks." 

"Oh, get stuffed, Captain Barf Buzzard!" 

"When we eat, I plan to do just that." 

"Potty!" 

"Right." 



 

At first, Sundance thought that he'd walked into a bar. There was a long marble-topped wooden counter that stretched for almost the full length of the establishment, and there was a small kitchen visible in the rear. Paper lanterns hung over the counter and watercolour paintings were hung in bamboo frames. He saw teapots of all shapes and sizes sitting on a shelf, and a peculiar collection of teacups. But the most peculiar thing to be found in the room was the unicorn behind the counter, whose curved horn was unique to say the very least. 

Tall, thin, almost delicate, the stallion was truly striking to behold. 

After a quick look around, Sundance realised that he was alone in here; there were no other customers. Eyes ahead, he strolled up to the bar. He did not mosey, nor did he saunter, no… he strolled. It felt good to stretch his legs after keeping them tucked against his body for so many hours. Then, he paused, looked at the curved-horn unicorn, and then craned his head to look at the restroom door in the very back. 

"Hello, and welcome to Hot Pot's Noodle Bar. I am Hot Pot." 

"My name is Sundance, and I just flew into Ponyville. Boy are my wings tired." 

The stallion behind the bar snickered for a short time, then said, "It is nice to have evening customers. Ponies come for lunch, but not dinner. What brings you to Ponyville?" 

"A stopover on the way home." Sundance eyed the restroom door once more. 

"Ah, very good. Today, we have buckwheat noodles and oat noodles. There are over forty different sauces and broths. I am honoured to have you as a guest, Lord Sundance." 

A quick turn of his head allowed Sundance's eyes to focus on the curious curved-horn unicorn, who was a pleasing shade of faint blue. "You know who I am?" 

"Princess Twilight sent out a flier with your picture. She'll be paying for your meal and your stay in Ponyville." 

"That's… very generous." 

Much to Sundance's relief, the restroom door opened and one by one, his wards filed out, each of them with damp, freshly-washed faces. Yes, putting Gerard in charge was the right move. Flax's mane was still pretty poofy and if any efforts were made to tame it, then those efforts came to a horrible end. Gerard's talons clicked against the wooden floorboards, while Pluck's hooves thump-thumped. Curiously, Silent Thunder made hardly any sound at all, and Flax trotted with a light tap-tap. 

"If you'll excuse me," Sundance said to Hot Pot, "I'll be right back." 



 

With the wooden stool comfortably beneath him, Sundance leaned up against the cool marble of the bar. A hooligan headache thudded and thwomped against the inside of his skull, and he was in sore need of a cure, lest he become an irritable pony. Gerard had his face hidden behind a menu, while Pluck checked out a humongous folding paper and bamboo fan. Sitting on a stool, Silent Thunder's head barely rose above the counter, and as for Flax, she sat on the counter itself. She kept a wary eye on the stranger and was well-behaved—at least for now. 

"Tea," Sundance said to Hot Pot. "Something potent. Something strong." 

Sitting beside Sundance, Silent Thunder perked up, his ears pricked as he bounced up and down, and he anxiously tapped his right front hoof against the counter while nodding. It only took Sundance a moment to figure out what the mute colt wanted, but the poor little guy couldn't ask. So of course, Sundance did it for him. 

"He'll have what I'm having. Though maybe not quite as strong." 

"I want something cold," Flax said in a bashful whisper. 

"Me too," Pluck added. 

"We have lemonade," Hot Pot said with a smile. "And we have seltzer. Which can be flavoured." 

"Cherry seltzer?" asked Pluck. 

"A fine choice for refreshment," Hot Pot replied. 

With both of his forelegs resting upon the counter, and his chin just a few scant inches above them, Pluck flashed a broad smile. "Flax'll have cherry too. She likes cherry." 

"Num-num in my tum-tum." As the donkey filly said these words, she patted her stomach with both of her tiny front hooves. "Big filly me is getting my own glass and I don't hafta share." 

Gerard lowered his menu enough to peer over the top of it and said, "Lemonade for me, thanks."

"Before I forget"—there was a pause as Hot Pot drew himself up to his full height—" we have special broths for discerning customers. We have marrow broth, but it isn't listed on the menu. Quite a few griffons pass through Ponyville… and some even live here." 

"Oh, I wouldn't want to be trouble—" 

Oh, 'tis no trouble at all. I cook up tremendous batches of broth and then freeze them in pucks. The work is already done. I smoke the marrow bones first and then they simmer for hours. The end result is quite exquisite." 

"That sounds amazing." Talons trembling, the young griffon folded up his menu and then put it down in front of him. "Well, I know what I'm having. Marrow broth with buckwheat noodles, please." 

A soft moan escaped from Silent Thunder, a strained sound from the back of his throat. He pounded on the counter with his hooves, then pointed to his eyes, and after he did that he then pointed in the general direction of the menu, which Gerard had closed. Without saying a word, the young colt made it abundantly clear what he wanted and needed. Never one to let a moment pass, Pluck too mimicked all of Silent Thunder's actions, until Gerard sighed in defeat and made right the situation. The menu was picked up, opened, and held in front of Pluck and Silent Thunder. 

"This is why literacy is so important," Gerard remarked in an off-talon way. "So you can read menus and not look foolish." 

A bit too short, Silent Thunder stood up on his stool, planted his front hooves against the edge of the counter, and then with an exaggerated studious expression of interest, he began to read the menu in the most dramatic manner possible. Which, as it turned out, was quite a production. Tiny eyebrows raised and lowered. His rubbery face contorted into a near-impossible number of expressions, and did so with remarkable fluidity. Then, he leaned in quite close to Pluck, and he began to mimic everything that the earth pony colt did, including the prolonged huff of annoyed disgust. 

Sundance began to miss the brother that he never had.

"You should be an actor," Pluck said to Silent Thunder. "You could revive silent movies." 

In audible silence, Silent Thunder mimicked Pluck's mouth movements and pretended to say the same words, but did so with far more flamboyant flare. It was theatrical, dramatic, and fun to watch. The voiceless orator put on quite a show and from behind the counter, Hot Pot began to chuckle. Sundance, for his own part, laughed as well, but as he did so, he could not help but think of just how normal these kids were after enduring so much. 

Perhaps it was hardship that made them special. 

The cool marble left shivery kisses upon Sundance's forelegs and he could not help but think of how special this moment was. Perhaps he'd taken his life in civilisation for granted. He heard the soft hum of some unseen refrigeration unit, and the faint rustling of feathers just beside him as Silent Thunder continued his unabated mockery and mimicry of Pluck's every action. The future held more than a little promise. These four would grow and become extraordinary. As Sundance mused upon this thought, he had himself some vague sense of understanding about Princess Celestia and her school for unicorns. 

The future was what one made of it—at least to some degree. 

"Alright," Sundance said to his wards, "what are we having for supper?" 
> A return to chaos
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a tower. This was a bit troubling, because Sundance couldn't remember a tower when he'd left. Once, in what felt like a lifetime ago, he'd come back home to find a tower missing. What a shock that was. But now, he returned home and there was a tower that he could not recall being there before, and this was more surprising than he could ever manage to put into words. And what a tower it was; it was rather whitish, or maybe a dull greyish colour, and appeared to be made from stone rubble. 

It was difficult to make out the details from this distance, but it almost looked as though it were a puzzle, assembled in such a way that each bit of stone somehow seemed to fit together with the others around it. And the size, too. It had to be at least fifteen or maybe even twenty yards tall, it was hard to tell from this distance. Sundance marvelled at it during his approach, mystified by its very existence. He would require a thorough explanation when he landed. 

There was also an airship hovering over the barony, a massive naval vessel by the looks of it. An older model, the kind with a hull suspended from the lift nacelle. Something about the old wooden ships appealed to Sundance, but he liked the new monobodied ships with internal lift systems as well. This one was huge though, downright imposing, and he could not help but wonder just how many visitors he had right now. When he landed, there would be a lot to sort out and things might just be a little stressful. 

Such was his life now. 

It was good to be home. 



 

Quite some crowd had gathered. Perhaps too much of a crowd. Why, he barely had his hooves on the ground and already the mob was closing in. And what a mob it was, a truly tremendous herd of ponies, only some of whom he recognised. This was the risk of leaving and then returning a few days later; things had happened and now he needed to be brought up to speed on the goings on that he'd missed while he was away. 

Corduroy appeared quite harried. Not hairy, as one might expect because she was a diamond dog, but harried because it was clear that she'd been hounded. A hounded harried hairy diamond dog was quite a thing, and that thing was whatever Corduroy was right now as Sundance folded his wings and prepared to speak with her. As for the huge herd of ponies that gathered around Sundance, something wasn't quite right with them. Something was off. Whatever it is, it was disturbing, and made him wonder about his new wards' first impression of the barony. 

"Alright," Sundance said in a voice loud enough to surprise himself. "Don't crowd me and don't everypony talk to me at once." He paused, because he had to pause; one of the ponies in the crowd just became a griffon right before his very eyes. "I don't want the new kids crowded either, so a bit of space if you don't mind." Spreading his wings, he waved them about to shoo away the encroaching mob. "Corduroy, report. Just the basics. We'll sort out the details later." 

"Report," she sighed, and then she reached up to rub her quivery, whiskery jowls. "Well, there's a lot to report, Sundance. We have a new school teacher. Puddle Jumper arrived, and he has papers from Twilight Velvet. He's the jumpiest, twitchiest, most nervous pegasus I've ever seen. One of the screaming owls caused him to rocket skyward this morning. I feared he was lost to space, but he came down. Eventually. I got a cup of that calming tea into him, and he's somewhat okay now. The shaking stopped… at least. 

"You have a guest. Doctor Dew. Doctor Honey Dew. She's with Paradox right now. Doctor Dew delivered the changelings that Princess Celestia promised, all forty-nine of them. Most of them are here right now because they're eager to greet their saviour, the pony that was kind enough to take them in. Say hello, fellas." 

"Hello," they all said in unison, in one voice, which was the creepiest thing that Sundance had ever witnessed in all of his existence. 

"Um, yeah… hi. Look, don't mean to be rude, but priorities. I need to take care of these kids and get them checked in." Then, Sundance squinted up at Corduroy and asked, "What's the deal with the tower?" 

"Oh that." The nurse's eyes widened and her jowls quivered as her ears rose. "When the 'lings arrived, it was mentioned that they could be useful to our efforts. I asked for a demonstration. Well…"—Corduroy seemed to struggle for words and both of her paws waved about—"as a hive mind, they analysed every stone in the meadow, sorted out which stone would fit where, and they assembled this tower from the busted stone blocks and rubble from whatever existed here before. I should mention that they did this in five hours, Sundance. It's held together with some sort of biological glue that they produced themselves." 

With a turn of his head, Sundance surveyed the tower, and thought about what was said. 

"They then told me that if I can provide them with blueprints, they can build me a hospital. Can I have a hospital, Sundance?" 

"Maybe later," he replied. "Right now, you can have Gerard, Pluck, Silent Thunder, and Flax. I want them weighed and added to the record. You might want to have a long chat with Gerard. Last night, just before bed, when he and I talked and I told him about you being a nurse, he wanted to know if he could learn from you. You might have a helper. But uh, he's squeamish. So it might be interesting." 

"Oh my," Corduroy said as she turned her upper body to face the sky truck. "A helper might be nice." 



 

"—oh, and I probably should have mentioned, Litany arrived," Corduroy said as Sundance allowed the door to shut behind him. "I think that's everything." 

"What or who is a Litany?" asked Sundance whilst his wards herded themselves into the corner and Flax whined. Upon hearing the distress in her voice, he felt his heart sink. "It'll be fine, Flax. Remember my promises. Corduroy, do I keep my promises?" 

"You work harder than any other pony I know to keep your promises," the nurse replied as she pulled down a heavy log book from a shelf. "If I recall right, a litany is a type of prayer that is recited or sung. But in our case, Litany is a unikey—" 

"A what?" 

"You'll see. She's uh, very striking… and not just because she has that scary skull mace she hauls around. Litany was sent by Princess Luna to study something. She wouldn't tell me. Which is fine, she's following orders. That weird mare spent most of last night studying the crystal tree." 

"Weird mare, you say?" 

"Like I said, you'll see soon enough. For the record, I like her. She's one of us. Even if she's one of Princess Luna's." Hunkering down, Corduroy turned her attention to the kids in the corner. "Don't make too much noise. That's Flicker over there. He's recovering. Now, I need to weigh you all, and ask you some very simple questions. Who's brave enough to go first?" 

Silent Thunder, the little opportunist that he was, shoved Pluck forward. 

"Betrayer!" the betrayed colt muttered. 

"Missing eye," Corduroy said, mostly to herself. "Extensive scarring. Musculature suggests a body suited for speed, not strength. We have a runner." 

"How'd you know that?" asked Pluck, who looked up at the towering nurse, mystified. 

"I'm good at what I do," replied Corduroy. 

"What's a scary skull mace look like?" the earth pony colt asked. 

"It's some kind of bird skull," the nurse replied as she beckoned the colt to come closer. "Nasty weapon. The beak is pointy and hooked. I'd imagine that it would work like a can opener, except the head of the victim would be the can. Just open it right up and let the insides out." 

Pluck gulped, and so did Silent Thunder. 

"I have to go." Sundance felt guilty, but he knew that he needed to get on top of things. "Flax, you be good. Trust me, you'll love Corduroy, I promise. Just give her a chance. Pluck, don't give her no sass, or you'll find out what it means to be scrubbed almost to death. Thunder, be charming. Don't be an annoying little cuss, or you'll go right into the bird bath. As for you, Gerard… you're in charge while I'm gone. Keep me informed if there is any sort of misbehaving. All of you will be meeting Hollyhock soon enough." 

"You keep putting Captain Barf Buzzard in charge," Pluck whined. 

"Show me that you're capable, and I'll put you in charge," said Sundance in return. 

Annoyed, Pluck huffed, but had nothing to say. 

"Alright, I'm out. I need to get my barony sorted out now that I'm back. Good luck, Nurse Corduroy." 

The pony in the bed rolled over, groaned in pain, and then said, "Welcome home, Sundance. Be nice to the bugs. I think you'll find them to be an asset." 



 

Good governance? Good riddance. Sundance thought about his grandmother's old joke and he still didn't fully understand it. The barony was a bustling place at the moment, packed with ponies. Most of whom were not ponies at all. He'd agreed to this though, agreed to this and gave his word to Princess Celestia. Sure, he had some second thoughts, but he was positive that he'd get over this and accept it with time. That was just how he worked, and he knew it. 

Lacking a podium, he pronked up onto a rock, slipped on some moss or maybe lichen, almost fell right off in the most majestic manner possible, flapped his wings to keep his balance, decided that the rock was a terrible idea, abandoned the rock, stumbled back down to flat ground, almost slipped on a stone that rolled beneath his right front hoof, recovered his balance, tucked his wings against his sides, and then just stood there hoping that he didn't look at all sheepish, because that would just be awful. 

Some distance away, Hoe Hum sat down, balanced herself, and clopped her front hooves together. Beside her, a pony that looked exactly like her in every possible way did the same. Then, Hoe Hum slipped her foreleg over her doppelganger, pulled her look-alike close, and they banged front hooves together in a shared clip-clop clap. Sundance realised that at some point, while he was away, the acceptance part had already happened. Maybe the construction of the tower had wowed them. 

Seeing this gave him pause and he took a moment to consider his own feelings. Why the sudden acceptance? Was it the isolation? The desire to have company even if it were strange? Maybe it was the lack of modern media around here. No movies or radio that told them who the bad guys were, who to fear. Well, there was a radio, but it didn't work very well, and Paradox didn't much care for fear-mongering, so those stations weren't listened to. Now, Hoe Hum and her look-alike played some complex clip-clop game and acted just like two fillies. 

This place had become Weirdsville, and his mother would not approve. 

Mass-hysteria; ponies and changelings living together. 

"Alright, alright, let's get this sorted out," Sundance said. "Which one of you is in charge? Who do I speak to so that all of this can be sorted out? Which of you are changelings? Right now, I am not even sure who the real Hoe Hum is. Help me out, new friends." 

One by one, each of the changelings turned into him. There was suddenly a whole lot of Sundances, an army of Sundances and he found himself looking at himself. The swarm began to gather and Sundance suffered something of a miniature existential crisis because he was no longer the unique creature that he was, but part of a collective that all looked the same. He was a clone now, a copy, and even though he was the original, he found no pleasure in that fact. Just another look-alike face in the crowd. 

"Don't be silly."

Ears pricked tall, Sundance's head whipped around to see who had spoke. What he saw was jaw-dropping. A pony, though not a pony. She was a plant pony and she had a twiggy wooden horn. Her hide was mossy green, and her mane consisted of foliage. This creature was as weird as she was beautiful, and she was incredibly beautiful in her own way. 

"Doctor Dew," she said, introducing herself. "Before we begin, I wanted to thank you for taking in my brood. They're quite playful, as you can see. They mean no harm. Consider it flattery. Simulacra, you are needed. Where are you?" 

One of the many Sundances came forward and presented themselves. "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together." 

"Come… let us find a private place so that we might converse. There is much to talk about. So much to say. Come… come… Simulation, do keep the others mostly behaved." 

Another smiling Sundance nodded, just one among the many. 

Things were about to get strange—but at least strange wasn't boring. 
> When you give a 'ling your heart
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was right where he'd left it. The table was still dominated by neat piles of well-organised papers. Simulacra—still wearing Sundance's form—took interest in these papers, and began to examine them. Doctor Dew explored the room; Sundance could not tell if she were impressed or not by what she saw. While the room lacked furniture, and had very little comfort, this was an important room. History would be made in this room, and Sundance knew this. It might be a humble place, but a great many projects had humble origins. 

"These papers," Simulacra said to Sundance, "we could help you finish them. Through the power of the hive, we could stretch your mind across our network. Each of us would know what you know, and think the way you think. We could consume this knowledge, cross reference it, make sense of it, and complete this task in a mere fraction of the time that it would take for you to do alone. We could even work as you sleep. Think of it as your mind having forty-nine bodies to work with." 

Try as he might, Sundance could not think of a suitable response. 

"Words fail you." Turning about, Simulacra faced Sundance and transformed into his actual self. The changeling was black, but there was a hint of greenness to his chitin, a suggestion, a shimmer. His eyes were multifaceted emeralds of intense and striking beauty. There were two antlers that grew from his head, and these were made of living wood, with smooth bark and vivid green leaves. "We wish to find our place in this world. You took a chance on us. We understand the risk, and for the sake of gratitude, we wish to offer much in return. You have but to ask." 

"My beautiful boy," Doctor Dew said as she trotted around the room. "He and his sister, Simulation, were both hatched from the same egg. Twins. Never seen anything like it. They were the first of the new species… the proof of our success… the end of Chrysalis' genetic tyranny. Simulacra and Simulation are different from the others in a myriad of ways. Look at him... see how perfect he is." 

With no words to say, Sundance nodded. 

"Chrysalis made it so that none of her hive could breed without her. She existed as a sort of gatekeeper, and so when she was removed from power, the remnants of her brood became sterile. But no longer. These new changelings can breed with the old changelings. This species will survive. A terrible fate, a slow, grueling extinction, has been averted. Science and magic working together in harmony." Doctor Dew paused, drew herself up into a proud pose, and then just stood there, radiating smug superiourity. 

"I would like to say that I am far more humble than my creator," Simulacra said to Sundance. "You're going to offer us a place to live. You'll do so with the best of intentions. I'll feel guilty about my response, and then have to explain to you how we crave our own space after living under observation in a laboratory for so long. We need space to develop ourselves and to sort out who and what we are. I'll reassure you that we're willing to help you, and to work alongside you, but we desperately desire a space to call our own. It will be awkward… so much so that it might affect our future relationship, our shared existence where we both work towards our shared good. So I propose that we skip past that, because I can see in your mind that you are the sort that would appreciate such a thing." 

Sundance blinked and tried to process what had just been said. 

"Did I make a mistake? Did I make a social faux pas? I can see into minds to gain insight into social rituals, but I lack context and understanding for them. Should I apologise, and if so, would you be so as kind to clarify your thoughts so that I might learn from this?" 

"It's fine," Sundance managed to say to Simulacra. "Just overwhelming. All the small talk got skipped. It's like jumping into cold water rather than sticking a hoof in and trying to adjust a little at a time." 

"Ah, a suitable analogy. So small talk does serve a purpose? A function? Doctor Dew calls it 'a meaningless triviality' and says that communication should evolve to be rid of it." 

The good doctor grinned. 

"I would prefer to be direct. You want a place to call your own? I think I know the place. It's a mess right now, and might not leave the best first impression, but I assure you, it has promise." Having recovered himself, Sundance began to take control of the situation. "It is vital for the barony's future that we reclaim this site from the wilderness. Work has begun, but more work is needed." 

"We are creatures with simple needs," Simulacra replied. "We need sunlight, water, and love. Well, occasionally we need sweet sap, or syrup… and a multitude of raw organics so that our internal alchemy glands continue to function… but we are creatures with simple needs." 

It slowly sank into his mind just what Sundance was dealing with. If these creatures could read his mind to understand bureaucratic workings, then they could also tap into Corduroy's mind to become an army of capable nurses. They were competent builders; whose mind did they draw that knowledge from? And Doctor Dew… what knowledge had they absorbed from her? 

"You begin to realise our potential," Simulacra said to Sundance. "You awaken and gain awareness of what our shared glorious future might be. Could be. Few can see that. Princess Celestia can see it… but she keeps her mind closed off from us. For good reason. She is wise. You… you were generous enough to take us in. We will be loyal and share our gifts with you. Equestria is our home… our future. We must secure our future." 

"I find it hard to believe that nopony else would give you a chance," Sundance remarked. 

"Old wounds are slow to heal," Simulacra said in response. "Princess Twilight offered us a place in Ponyville, and we did check out the town. It was nice. But Ponyville has a lot of travellers, not all of which are friendly towards us. Regrettably, my sister made the decision to turn her down. As for myself, I was undecided. But, it is my belief that we need isolation, at least until such a time that we develop a culture of our own… an identity. This place seems ideal." 

"Some of the younger 'lings lack a resistance to hatred," Doctor Dew said to Sundance. "It makes them physically ill. Simulacra and Simulation are resilient, but they are exceptional. The younger ones though… they have trouble with the idea that they are hated for crimes they had no part in. Exposure leaves them insecure. The new 'lings aren't as hardened to negativity as the old 'lings, which Chrysalis prepared for just such a thing. These 'lings experience the full emotional spectrum, from love to hate, and everything in between." 

Disturbed by this revelation, Sundance began to pace the length of the room. 

"I did not create them to be soldiers," Doctor Dew said after a brief silence. "While I made some hard choices during their creation, I did make every effort to give them free will and self-determination so that they might find their own future. Whatever it is that it might be. I was removing genetic shackles and I had no desire to add my own." 

"You know," Sundance began as he continued to pace, "I understand hard decisions. Just today, I brought some kids home. Kids that have had a rough go, but good kids. And rather than be with them when they probably need me the most, I left them to the care of strangers. Well, strangers to them. This is a new place, probably a bit scary, and I left them. Just when they needed me most. I'll probably regret it at some point." 

Her face now deadpan, Doctor Dew watched Sundance, but had nothing to say. 

"And apparently, my isolation is an asset. I mean, things keep happening and the word 'isolation' is brought up repeatedly. Decisions are made because of this isolation. This place is isolated, and that's ideal for a lot of things. Yet… my job as baron is to connect this place to the outside world. To build bridges, so to speak. I am tasked with destroying the very isolation that seems to benefit me. What's a baron to do? Cultivate the beneficial isolation and hope for the best? Or build connections to the outside world so my lands will prosper? It's a hard choice, and one I'm not sure that I'm smart enough to make. But Princess Celestia didn't appoint me because of my smarts, no. I am where I am because of bureaucratic endurance. It's a reward for paperwork, you see." 

Then, Sundance came to a complete halt, turned about, and faced Simulacra. 

"I am sure that you mean well, but you need to stop looking like me or the others. It's funny, and I am sure it is all meant in good fun… but"—here, Sundance paused and drew in a deep breath—"it opens up the doors for chaos in the community. If we have somepony accuse somepony else of doing something, they have the means to say that they didn't do it, that it was somepony that looked like them. I don't want that. Feel free to look like whatever you wish… just try not to look like somepony else. I don't want our trust of one another damaged." 

"You are wise to say that," Simulacra said to Sundance. 

"Thank you," Sundance replied. 

"I hadn't actually thought of that being a problem. I've already told the others. We will refrain." 

"Good… because I made a hard choice and welcomed you here. I want you to succeed and find happiness here. We need to minimise the reasons for upset. I think you'll fit in here. I'd like to think that you'll do well." Again, he took a deep breath, and then added, "Would you like to go and see the place I had in mind for your settlement?" 

"I'd like that," Simulacra replied. 

"Then let's do this. Gather the others and let's get you settled in." 





Yet another red line crosses Equestria, this one very short…





The beavers were about to be evicted, but such was the way of the world. Sundance landed upon a rock outcropping, found his balance, and then just stood as forty-nine changelings each found their own place to touch down. He had himself an excellent view of the Crags down below, which were now flooded with a considerable amount of water. It was almost a lake. The ruined remains of the tank that he'd found were now completely submerged, as it had probably once been before the beavers built their pond. 

While most of the changelings looked similar to one another, some had some differences. There were those with antler-branches, others with what appeared to be bark, and there were a couple that looked a bit like stick bugs, as if they were logs with tree limbs. Sundance didn't think it was a disguise, as each of them had taken their natural form. The introduction of plant genetics had saved them, but had also profoundly changed them. Yes, the changelings had changed. 

"This is perfect," Simulacra said to Sundance. 

"It's a little rough," Sundance replied. 

"It's a blank slate," Simulation said as she balanced upon the end of a log that jutted out of the water. "We can make this place whatever we wish for it to be. There is good soil beneath the muck. Lots of sun with the southern exposure. Mountains to mine, and a plethora of available organics for us to ingest so that we might fill our alchemy glands." 

"What I need is to ensure that the water never stops flowing into those two rivers. That's the lifeblood of my barony, and this place is the heart." 

"You're asking us to guard and tend your heart," Simulation said with her head now bowed. "That seems solemn, somehow. A sacred duty." 

"Perhaps it is." Sundance gave it some thought, but did not come up with an opinion of his own. "This land is yours though, now and forever. Do with it as you will, but be responsible stewards. Keep the water flowing. Try not to pollute too much. Restore the land so it'll hold topsoil… I'm told that's important as part of the effort to fix this place. You probably know more about it than I do, so it is my plan to trust you to get it done. That's how things work around here." 

The changelings sprung into action, no doubt spurred on by some silent, unheard command shared amongst themselves. A group of 'lings began to destroy the beaver dams in a controlled, careful way, while another group took to the air and began to circle. Still another group began lifting large logs out of the water, and these were placed in a pile. Simulacra and Simulation both turned to face Sundance and something about their downright alien faces radiated a sheer, intense joy. 

"You'll need a way to keep warm come winter," Sundance said. "It gets cold here. We're in a temperate-boreal area, with hot, short summers and brutally frigid winters. I've only heard stories, but they're all bad stories. The only thing we have going for us is that the ground doesn't freeze solid due to geothermal activity. Not sure what you'll do for heat. I'm worried though, because plants are susceptible to the cold." 

Simulacra nodded. "We are vulnerable to the cold. But we are confident that we can overcome." 

"We are actually at a higher elevation than Canterlot," Simulation said with her head tilted off to one side. "Your settlement is almost at the same altitude as Canterlot, and here, we are above it. The terrain is deceptive, but the plains are all downhill in every direction from your settlement. And these mountains"—she gestured at the two peaks just behind her—"are mighty."

"Huh… I wouldn't have guessed," Sundance said. "I don't mean to be rude, but there's not enough of me to go around. I'm going to leave you to it. As for myself, I need to return, because there are others I need to meet with today." 

"We'll be going with you," Simulation said to Sundance. "Doctor Dew… we would like to say goodbye before she departs." 

"I understand." With a solemn nod, Sundance voiced his agreement. 

"Plus, we'll need to unload our eggs and our seed pods before she can go." Simulacra then turned to Sundance and asked, "Let us return." 

"Yeah," Sundance replied. "Daylight is precious." 

"Indeed it is," the siblings both said together in one voice. "It is the very thing that keeps us alive." 
> Civilisation by the numbers: a step by step guide
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everypony deserved more of Sundance than he had to give. This caused a wellspring of guilt to manifest within him, and he felt no small amount of shame for how he'd handled this morning. His wards deserved better—he wished that he'd handled it differently somehow—and he feared that he might seem dismissive or even neglectful of the new residents, the changelings. There was no time to take for himself so that he might sort out these issues, no. He had to check in on Puddle Jumper, the teacher sent by Twilight Velvet, who was expected to arrive in the fall, when the traditional school year started. 

And then there was Litany. He had only a basic understanding of who she was, but no clue as to why she was here. Why would Princess Luna send her? He didn't know, and couldn't ask, because Litany was sound asleep. She was a night owl, which was funny, because a lot of the barony's owls were quite active during the day. Only some of the owls were actual night owls. Owls of all different shapes and sizes, from teeny-tiny burrowing owls to colossal hooters that ruled the roost. 

His wards had been shuffled off on Corduroy. A great many things were shuffled off on Corduroy, Sundance realised. But just when they probably needed him most, he'd abandoned them, and now the guilt for doing so gnawed at his insides. They were strangers here, in a strange place, and he was the only adult in which they had any sort of trust—and he could not help but feel that he'd betrayed that. A conversation was in order, followed by a sincere and heartfelt apology. 

How did Princess Celestia deal with a backlog? 

Frustrated and ashamed, Sundance pushed open the door to the dining hall… 



 

The door to the dining hall was pushed open and beyond the door quite a scene awaited Sundance. He entered, got out from the entranceway because lingering there would be rude, and then just stood there to take everything in. Puddle Jumper was in the corner, surrounded by little ones and old ones alike. The pegasus was prematurely aged, and his condition was quite visible. His hide, once a shade of sky, was now dappled with greyish white spots. As for his mane and tail, both were white, and peppered with strands of iron grey. Whatever colour they might have once been was unknown to Sundance. Stress and fear had done this. 

As for Sundance's own stresses and fears, they seemed unfounded. 

Hollyhock, Gerard, and Gisela all spoke together in hushed whispers. Whatever they said, Sundance could not make out. Pluck seemed to be having a conversation with Puddle Jumper, and the others gathered around listened with focused intent. Amber Dawn was showing something to Silent Thunder, and it appeared to be one of her colouring books. Lemon Grass sat with Tarantula and Flax; whatever it was that they did together was unknown. 

The kids were fine. Of course they were. Sundance, in his rush to be the best pony that he could be, had somehow forgotten that the foursome were exceptional in every conceivable way, and they were fine. All was good. They didn't need his protection, because they had each other. Feathers ruffled, ears pricked, his neck bent low, Sundance could not help but feel more than a little stupid. He'd felt a bit too important, a bit too necessary—and now he'd learned a valuable lesson, one that he took to heart. 

"—and as the saying goes, civilisation is what you make of it. See, that's the joke. Because civilisation is something that you create. One stone piled atop another. More than that, civilisation is a series of social contracts… metaphorical stones stacked on one another." 

Puddle Jumper exuded educated sophistication, but not in a snobby, smug, or arrogant way. The greying pegasus was warm, bright, and funny. Those gathered around him, both young and old, hung from his every word. Sundance only half listened, but paid more attention to the interactions, the expressions, and the connections between each individual that formed a whole. The teacher was teaching, and seemed happy enough—if just a little stoned. Just how much of the calming tea had Corduroy given him? And how strong was it? Corduroy knew best, and Sundance trusted her judgement. 

"We're making a civilisation here," Pluck said to Puddle Jumper. 

"But what sort?" the erudite pegasus replied. "What sort of civilisation do you want here? Tell me, colt… what dreams do you have for the future? What great hopes do you have? And more importantly, what are you willing to sacrifice so that these hopes and dreams might happen? What are you willing to give?" 

"Well… I dunno." 

"See, that's the thing, my boy. Some ponies, they live their lives in service to a cause. Something that they believe in. Some give their fortune, while others give their lives. We're all trying to shape our civilisation into what we believe it should be. Some of us have a common goal, while others strive to subvert the hopes and dreams of others. On occasion, we ponies unite for a common cause, and we can do extraordinary things. At other times though, our divisions prove too much to bear and we become estranged from one another. Tragic times, those." 

Sundance thought of the Separatists, and the terrible war waged on this very land. 

"But we all want different things," Pluck said. "How can anything get done at all?" 

"That's the hallmark of civilisation right there," Puddle Jumper said to the curious one-eyed colt. "We agree to aid others with their causes in exchange for help with our own. Mutualism. We help one another with shared causes, even ones that we ourselves might not have too much interest in, because in the long run, shared cooperation benefits us all. In my opinion, this is why Princess Celestia takes a hooves-off approach to governance. She wants us to be civilised. We might not always do a spectacular job of it, but I think we're learning. At least, I sure hope we are. This is why a study of history is so vital… so we can learn from the mistakes already made, those made by others, and we can choose to do better." 

"Yeah, but we don't always agree what those mistakes are, or even how to fix them." 

"Which is why we cultivate debate and rhetoric. Which is what I'll be teaching you." 

"School was always so boring before," Pluck remarked. "This sounds better." 

"I'll do my best, I promise." 

Sundance, mindful of his hooves, crept forward, with caution and quiet, and then he sat down. Ears pricked and standing tall, he tried to hear what was said by Hollyhock, and couldn't. For the first time, he noticed that Bonk and Runt were missing. Well, not missing. Probably outside, maybe working. No sign of Wort, either. If Runt and Bonk were off with Granny… he shuddered involuntarily without knowing why. 

It was right about now when the trouble started, by Flax of all creatures, who turned to Hollyhock, looked up at her, and said, "I gotta go potty." 

Not yet realising the trouble about to happen, Hollyhock replied, "Baby, do you need to go potty?" Which was the standard stock response made when a foal had just asked to go potty. Why this happened to be remained a mystery, one studied and contemplated by scholars, sages, and occasionally, when he was bored, Discord. 

The trouble, which lurked, was set free by Flax, who said, "Yeah, I gots the turd-tingles in my tushy." 

Sundance almost swallowed his own tongue. 

Hollyhock inhaled. Her nostrils went wide when she exhaled. When she inhaled a second time, her sides expanded greatly. In and out she breathed, the quiet calm before the storm. Neck prickling, Sundance could sense the storm coming, but there was nothing he could do. His pegasus nature did not allow for these sorts of storms to be managed—but his instincts told him to run. Or fly. Yes, an expedient exit was in order. Yet, he was rooted to the spot and was rendered immobile by some terrible force of magic. 

Then came the thunder. 

"WHICH ONE OF YOU DID THIS?" 

Hollyhock's head swiveled around, and she aimed her eyes like twin cannons. Unfortunately, her targeting system locked on to Pluck, whose panic caused him to freeze in place. After the thunder, a terrible silence descended upon the scene, a dreadful cancer that malignantly threatened to consume all sound. Completely thunderstruck, Flax covered her mouth with both of her front hooves, and then went perfectly still. 

"YOU." 

Pluck immediately went on the defensive. "What makes you think I did it?" 

Lip curled back into a maternal snarl, Hollyhock turned the full force of her gaze upon the one-eyed colt. "You did this. You did this." She gestured in Silent Thunder's general direction and said, "He's mute. So he couldn't." Then, she pointed at Gerard. "He has manners. Incredible manners. So he didn't do it." After she made her point, she flung her hoof forward and aimed it right at Pluck, who cowered. "So by process of elimination, you did this!" 

"That's a matter of opinion—" 

"You did this to your baby sister! You called her your sister! As her big brother, you're supposed to protect her from the ugly things of the world… including you, yourself!" 

"Well I—" 

"There are no excuses for what you've done," Hollyhock snapped. 

"Well, I could think of a few excuses if you give me a minute—" 

"No." She shook her extended hoof in Pluck's direction, which caused his head to bob with each thrust she made, as if compelled by some invisible, unseen force. "No, there are no excuses. You be a shining example for your baby sister… or else!" 

"Or else what?" the plucky colt dared to ask. 

"Or you'll find out what," was Hollyhock's sneering, domineering reply. 

Properly cowed, Pluck almost changed species to something a bit more bovine. "Yes Ma'am." 

"That's right. Now come over here." 

"Why? Am I going to be punished?" 

"No." She lowered her hoof and for the first time, Sundance could breathe again. "So I can hug you. That's how things work around here. After you get in trouble, you get hugged so that you know that I love you." 

"But we just met—" 

"That doesn't matter." 

"I sorta think it does—" 

"I said that it doesn't. Now get over here!" With her hot temper on full display, Hollyhock stabbed her hoof into the floorboards with a nearly deafening thump. "Set a good example for Flax! Gerard, take Flax to the potty. Check for spiders. There probably won't be any, but it is a good habit to have. Always check for loo-spiders." 

"I don't got turd-tingles no more," Flax announced. "Now I have piss-shivers." 

Reaching up to rub her temple, Hollyhock's expression turned deadpan. "Pluck… what am I going to do with you?" 

"Um… are you asking me for advice?" 

"I don't wanna meet the loo-spiders," Flax said as she retreated into Gerard's embrace. 

"It will be okay, Flax. We all have to learn to live with loo-spiders. Thankfully, I think spider season is over." She turned her heated gaze on Sundance. "Our baron took action and protected us rather than just wait around and hope that the problem would solve itself. That was good of him. He did right by us."

Hollyhock's opinion was duly noted by Sundance, who had nothing to say about the subject. 



 

A steaming cup of tea sat before Sundance, who hunched over the table so that he might inhale the heady perfume that wafted from the cup. Puddle Jumper did much the same, though being hunched over somehow made him appear to be far older, more ancient somehow. The soft sounds of conversation in the dining hall caused Sundance's ears to prick and rotate about, but he did his utmost to remain focused upon Puddle Jumper. 

"I expected you in the fall," Sundance said to his greying counterpart. 

"That was the plan, yes." Thin eyebrows angled downwards and soft wrinkled furrows formed just below Puddle Jumper's maneline. "I had a job. Tutoring. Doing that thing I do. Worked with a family to prepare their foals so that they could apply to a private academy come fall. But the husband and one of the wives lost their jobs…" 

Unable to help himself, Sundance seized upon this detail: "A herd family?" 

"Yes." There was a slight nod from Puddle Jumper. "Some call it city survival. A means to get ahead. This family was nice… one stallion, three mares, a shared common goal to get ahead. Two worked to provide, and two stayed at home to care for the foals. Clever mares. They ran a daycare from their apartment to make a few bits on the side. They were doing great, I guess… but the factory laid off a bunch of workers due to automation improvements. And then, I was let go… because of course I was. And then I had no hope to make rent. Rather than fret and fuss about it, and add even more grey hairs to my fading hide, I left. 

"It was very liberating, just leaving the way I did. I have to say, it might very well have been the most freeing moment of my life. There was a moment when I concluded that I might never pay rent again… that I would never find myself in this situation ever again… and it was a relief. It was just what I needed, actually. Seemed terrible at the time, but after the fact, I think it was good for me. The caged bird was set free." 

Unable to think of anything else, Sundance thought of Twilight's vision. 

"It can't last, you know," Puddle Jumper said. "Factory productivity is higher than it's ever been. Automation allows for the creation of goods at an unbelievable rate. There's a factory that can produce a thousand tins of soup in an hour when running at peak efficiency. It truly is an amazing time to be alive… but I have to wonder… who buys all of these goods when everypony is out of work?" 

Thoughtful, still silent, Sundance considered the question. 

"We can't survive this. My gut tells me that. Unless something else comes along that changes how we're employed and what we do for a living. Equestria's industrialisation had been a wonder… a miracle. But we rushed ahead without being prepared for whatever came next. Now we face the consequences of our actions. Cheap consumer goods abound… the shelves are chock full of them… and so few are buying because nopony can afford it." 

Though he still had nothing to say, Sundance nodded. 

"We're victims of the Cycle." Puddle Jumper pressed his front hooves together. "That's what I call it, anyhow. Some monster comes along and knocks down part of the city. Or we have an invasion. We get yet another Manehattan Event that leaves most of the city in ruins. And when we rebuild, we focus solely on getting the most possible gains in the shortest possible time so that we might get ahead just a little before the next attack. We do nothing to plan for the future… just our immediate survival. When a factory gets destroyed, or blown to smithereens, we take everything that we've learned from the previous iteration of the factory and use that to make the next one better. While these near-ceaseless attacks have made us innovative, they've also made us short-sighted, I fear." 

"But we can say that the adversity is good for us," Sundance said, breaking his silence at last. "I think that, perhaps, as a society, we just need time to catch our breath and assess the situation." 

"Maybe." There was a shrug from Puddle Jumper. "In the meantime, I am grateful for what you've done here. Sure, it's like travelling back in time… but I have a house now. And what a house it is. Sure, there's no running water, and no electricity, but I can live with that. My apartment… let me tell you about my apartment. It was just a little over one yard wide, and it was three yards long from front door to window. And that was it. We had a communal bathroom on the floor, which I should mention was in a state of severe disrepair most of the time. Oh… and the radiator, it didn't work most of the time. The boiler in the basement was always breaking, or threatening to explode. The whole alicorn-forsaken city is a pressure cooker that just stews us into our softest states. Breaks us down bit by bit. That's what the adversity does to us." 

Unable to disagree, Sundance nodded. 

"But listen to me go on," Puddle Jumper mused aloud. "Mrs. Velvet has secured a therapist for me in Canterlot. You've given me a place to stay and meaningful employment. I've never cared about money, if I may be honest. It's always been a means to an end. I don't think I'll miss it. There's no corner cafes or teahouses, and I know that I'll miss those, but I'll survive somehow. And I have promising students, young and old alike. I think that I'll do good things here." 

"Do well, and as we grow, I'll make you my, uh, um, Minister of Education?" 

Upon hearing this, Puddle Jumper's eyes narrowed. "That's not something to joke about." 

"Oh, I'm being serious. Everypony and everyone that joins me now, when everything is at its hardest, they will reap whatever rewards I have to offer. When things get better, and things will get better, those who help me get to that point will be rewarded. It's not much, but it's all I have to give." 

"I have a lot of ideas about education and how we should go about it," Puddle Jumper remarked whilst he gave Sundance an apprehensive stare. 

"How'd you like to put those ideas into practice and see how they do?" asked Sundance. 

From Puddle Jumper, there was only silence. 

"Princess Twilight has a plan," Sundance said to the pegasus across the table. "If you'll give me a chance, I'd love to tell you all about it. Beyond that, I wish to make you a part of it. We're going to do big things here. Impossibly big things. There's going to be some forward thinking. None of us will be alive to see the end result, but it is our job to lay out a foundation. This might just be the most important job that anypony has ever done, and I can't do it alone. Twilight has a vision… and it is my job to make it real. But I need helpmates. So… you… being a teacher is a short-term means to an end. We need a teacher. But long term, I need a pony I can trust to lay down an educational foundation here. 

"I don't want to repeat the mistakes that we've made in the city. So I need somepony that thinks differently. Somepony willing to take chances and try new things. I need a forward thinker. So what do you say… shall we work together and see how this goes?" 

"I'd like that," Puddle Jumper replied. "So, tell me more about Princess Twilight's plan…" 
> A mother's prayer
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pearlescent moonbeams dappled the sunflowers that swayed in the hot evening breeze. Up past his usual bedtime, Sundance allowed them to tickle his sides and to rustle against his neck. The soil, still warm from the sun, was soothing to his frogs. Today had been a long one. He'd started in Ponyville, flown home, sorted everything out, and what a sorting it was. Multiple trips back and forth to where the changelings had settled, a flight out to the orchard, an inspection of the barony's new tower, which was a marvel of engineering, and now, at the end of the day, he found himself in curious company with a mysterious mare. 

Litany. 

He was warned about her, but that had not prepared him for their actual meeting. She was a mule, though that term was frowned upon. Litany called herself a unikey—half donkey, half unicorn, with the best features of both. She was small, slight of build, even fragile in appearance. Yet, she wore armor. There was no need to wear armor, but she wore it nonetheless and did so with no small amount of pride. The barding was heavy oiled canvas with shaped steel plates in particularly vulnerable places. In Sundance's eyes, the armor wasn't so much for protection as it was to send a message. 

And that message was that Litany was one of Princess Luna's chosen. 

The blue-grey mare was a dark colour, one made darker in the absence of sunlight. She had a stubby horn—though Sundance would never judge because of horn size—which was rather cute. Though he'd never say that aloud, because quite honestly, Litany was terrifying. Her confidence might be mistaken as arrogance by some. Every movement she made was a statement of dominance. Her small stature did nothing to diminish her commanding presence. Yet, there was a gentleness to her, even if it were a cold gentleness, one without much warmth. 

"So I had a moment where I broke, you say. I don't remember. I just… remember being in the bathroom, with my head under the sink… and I was angry. No, I was beyond angry. I was something else. Some kind of… I dunno… some sort of—" 

"Furious, bloodthirsty murder-beast?" Litany's cool tone was almost teasing, though perhaps it wasn't. It was difficult to tell. "You were on the very edge of the Night Lady's reach. Any further, and she wouldn't have been able to aid you. She smoothed out the wrinkles that formed in your mind because you experienced memories not your own." 

"Which is why you are here, so that my connection to the land can be studied." 

"Correct." 

"I saw the brand and suddenly the memories of thousands upon thousands who died fighting woke up within me. Their blood is in the soil here… along with some kind of psychic residue. Is that right?" 

"It is," she replied in a cool, collected tone. "It is no common anger, but the rage of those who died for a cause. A belief. They sacrificed all that they had, and when that was not enough, they gave up the only thing left that they had to give." 

Sundance understood. "Their lives." 

"Correct." 

"And so Princess Luna thinks that because my own blood has dripped down into the soil, that some kind of connection has been made… a connection beyond that of the little crystal tree?" 

"Stranger things can and do happen," was Litany's cool response. "Some ponies have anger management issues. It can be hard to control one's temper. Believe me… I know. The world is full of all manner of injustice. But to control the blood-soaked rage of thousands… this is something that the common pony cannot do. This is no mere manner of anger management. A solution must be found, for if you were to find a Neo-Separatist and meet them face to face, you might very well disembowel them and hang them by their own glistening entrails. That would be bad." 

"Would it really, though?" he dared to ask. 

"Oh, it would, though I for one would not judge you harshly for it. I would be very understanding." 

"You're not like other girls," Sundance remarked. 

"Oh, you have no idea." Litany almost—but not quite—smiled, and something about that non-existent smile that wasn't quite there chilled the blood. She had no fangs, thankfully, but something about her suggested that she was quite creature-of-the-nightish. In fact, she was downright spooky. 

"Want to tell me more about yourself?" he asked. 

"No," she replied without hesitation. 

"Alright, that's fine. You do you. Be mysterious and spooky." 

"And you've given up… just like that? Have you no spine? Are you an invertebrate?" 

"You're armed. With a mace. And I like living. In one piece, whenever possible." 

She chuckled. It was a cold sound, one that lacked warmth, yet there was something appealing about it. "I suspect that even if I were not so armed, you would still give up. Not because you are a gentlepony, as you would no doubt have me think, but because you are submissive. Such is your nature." 

"Ouch, lady. I mean, you're not wrong, but ouch. I think I'll go hide in my room now and write bad poetry while I sulk. Probably grow my mane long and paint my hooves black." 

"Do not be ashamed of who and what you are. We are what we are because we are needed. Whatever we are, whatever makes us what we are, that is vital and necessary for destiny to work through us." She paused for a moment as the sunflowers around her swayed and strands of her night-dark mane were tugged upon by the wind. "I am Litany, and I am my mother's prayers. I am her hope. I am her perfect sacrifice given to Princess Luna, with the hopes that one day, I might secure a future for my mother's kind." 

"That's… wow, that's something alright." He chose his next words carefully. "That's kinda what I'm trying to do here, I think. I mean… there's Flax. And little Tarantula. I know he's a burro, but both he and Flax need some kind of future. Flax is branded, for crying out loud. I know that donkeys have it rough. They do. So do burros. The future I am expected to build here demands that they get an equal share." 

"Which is why I wouldn't crown you with my mace," Litany said in a way that wasn't wholly reassuring. "My father saw to it that I got the very best education that he could afford on his salary. He works the Night Watch. While I did not go to Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns… for obvious reasons, I did manage to attend a somewhat prestigious academy in Canterlot. Mostly because my father knows so much of the upper-crust. Doors opened for me that would not have otherwise.

"After my graduation, I applied for a position in the Night Court. A lot happened. My mother 'gave' me to the Night Lady with nothing explicitly asked for in return… just a hope that the Night Lady might reciprocate and do more to secure our future. I live my life in such a way to prove to my mistress that we are worthy. Beyond that, I am the first of my kind to achieve a position in the Royal Courts. Not one donkey has ever been accepted before, much less a half-donkey. So even if I do nothing else with my life, I've already secured myself a spot in the history books and I've become a gleaming beacon for my kind. All that I could ever hope to be." 

"And I'm just some goofball with an interest in genealogy. You have some kind of ambition, Litany. If you don't mind me saying. I didn't have a plan for my life. All of this just sort of happened by accident." 

"There are no accidents," she deadpanned in return. "We are marked, you and I. Agents of destiny. I am the first of my kind in all of recorded history to bear such a mark. I believe it is because I demanded that destiny notice me, and I made myself worthy. You… you were born worthy. I had to fight for it." 

"Oh, I disagree," Sundance said. "There's a lot of worthless shits out there. Sure, we ponies get our mark… but I'd say that more than a few of us don't deserve it at all. It just sort of happens. I don't think we're special, or that we're the chosen agents of destiny. Just a quirk. But really, you need to reconsider. We're not special, most of us, and we're not more deserving." 

"I have never, ever, at any time, heard a pony speak in such a way. You… you are an oddity, Sundance. What a peculiar pony you are. Such things you say. For now, I must take my leave of you. I have much to consider… much to think about. We shall speak again, Sundance, though when I have something better to say. Good even, Sundance." 

"But I… but we… but the conversation was just getting interesting and I—" 

"Good even, Lord Sundance. And well met. We shall speak again, but only after I have chosen my next words carefully. Enjoy the night, and the many blessings of the Night Lady. May the stars light your path." 

When she turned to go, Sundance bit his lip and watched as she disappeared into the sea of sunflowers. 
> When life is punderful
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a day unlike any other. Sundance was so full to brimming with purpose that he feared that he might burst. The crystal tree had not one, but three new branches, fragile delicate shoots that reached skyward. To see it grow filled him with hope, with happiness, and the reassurance that he'd done right. He stood near Cucumber's grave and it was with a smile that he wondered how the old retainer would think of all the changes wrought around here. There was life now, with young ones, and joy, and something had changed here. 

The bleakness was gone. 

Overhead, a vomitous vulture-cat circled. Gerard seemed happy to be able to circle and Sundance supposed that it had something to do with his inner-nature. Multiple construction projects took place. Floodgate directed the construction of new berms for the terraced garden beds. These new earthworks would be shored up with timber and stone, and according to Floodgate's estimate, would ultimately result in better protection for the precious soil. No more washouts during heavy rains. Or, at least, minimal loss. Bonk and Runt made short work of the earthmoving project, while Rocky Ridge punched and pounded the stones into useful shapes. 

Hennessy and Hoppy worked together on what appeared to be a wagon, but rather looked like a collection of junk. It had tubes, and valves, and tanks, and Sundance couldn't make heads nor tails of it. Much of it was made from old airship parts, while Double Helping reconstructed various wooden bits. Granny Growler tinkered away on what appeared to be a miniaturised boiler, and Sundance, for the life of him, could not understand why a wagon might need such a thing. He suspected that he'd find out what was going on soon enough—if it didn't explode violently. 

Some distance away, Pluck was lectured by Hollyhock, who shouted at the colt about responsibility. Meanwhile, the other little ones frolicked in the grass, safe and secure on all sides, and with a watchful vulture-cat circling overhead. Sundance trusted Gerard's eyes. If the griffon wanted to circle to scratch some internal itch, Sundance was content to let him go about his business. Hollyhock was just getting her second wind from the sounds of things, and Sundance decided that he would do nothing to stop her. Pluck was free from his hated clinical setting, and was now getting a portion of actual, real, honest-to-goodness mothering—no doubt his heart's fondest wish. At least, Sundance liked to believe this was the case. 

Rocky Ridge jackhammered a lump of granite into submission with a flurry of blows. 

"Look at what you've done," Paradox said to Sundance as she drew near. "This place has so much life now." 

He nodded, but maintained his silent composure. 

"I met with Litany last night," the sunny unicorn said in a much lower voice. "I was deep in study, and she just let herself right into my home. She was examining Grandmother Oak. I wasn't bothered by her intrusion nearly as much as I thought I would be. She's weird, Sundance. Real weird. Like… professionally weird." 

Again, Sundance nodded. 

"She has so much ambition and drive. I mean, I do too… but when I compare myself to her, I feel inadequate. Litany is fifteen years of age and she's already accomplished her life's goal. We talked last night. Briefly. And then, quite abruptly I might add, just when the conversation was getting interesting, she skedaddled. Which was immensely frustrating." 

"I know exactly how you feel, Paradox." 

"She did that to you as well?" 

"She did." 

"Huh. Care to share what she told you? Maybe we can compare notes." 

"Sounds like a plan." 

"Visitor!" shouted Potato, who with but one word prevented the exchange of intriguing information. 

Sighing, Sundance resigned himself to frustration as he prepared to meet his guest. 



 

A pegasus in ornate armor extended one wing and saluted as Sundance trotted through the gate. This wasn't a regular soldier, no common guardspony. The golden armor was trimmed in silver filigree and there were gems inlaid in spectacular geometric patterns. Perhaps a messenger from Princess Celestia, though surely she had other ways to communicate if she so desired. 

"Hail, Sire," the armored pegasus said. 

"Greetings," Sundance replied, and then he immediately worried if he was formal enough for this occasion. 

"My time is brief," the snazzily armored pegasus said to Sundance. "I've come on behalf of Radiance to inform you that your train station has been completed. Ensign Whizzer awaits your inspection." 

"Oh my." Unable to hide his surprise, Sundance's face broke into a pleasant smile. "That's good news. Thank you." 

"I must depart. I have orders to return to Canterlot at once after I have delivered this dispatch." The pegasus bowed his head, then nodded. "Pardon my hurry, Sire." 

"Think nothing of it," Sundance replied. "I'll go at once so this Whizzer fellow isn't kept waiting." 

"Ensign Whizzer can be made to wait a while," the guardspony said as he spread his wings. "Ensign Whizzer was mouthy and made awful puns. Now he waits. Alone. Right on the borders of the Everfree. Fare-thee-well, Sire." 

Then, without another word, the unnamed pegasus spread his wings fully and flew away. 



 

It took some searching, but Sundance found the station. He'd first found the railroad tracks, and then had to go back and forth a bit until he found what he was looking for. There was a runway, which he'd landed on, and an entire collection of buildings, which he did not expect. He was promised a depot, but this was so much more. Everything was made out of red brick and clean white mortar. It was all so new, and there was so much to take in, such as the green tin roofs, or the window trim painted in sunny yellow. 

A pegasus approached, and when he drew close, he introduced himself. 

"I am Punnery Sergeant Whizzer. Pleased to meet you." 

The pun stopped Sundance dead in his tracks, and he had to fight the urge to grimace. 

"I was warned about you, Ensign Whizzer." 

"Oh, I'm harmless. We're on the same side. Whatever side that is." A reckless grin revealed broad teeth. "But I should be kept pointed at the enemy, just in case. Care to have a look around, yer Lordship?" 

"Just call me Sundance." 

"Well, I tried to introduce myself as Punnery Sergeant Whizzer, and look what that got me." 

Sundance winced. 

"If I might speak plainly, Radiance was a bit miffed that his brother, Nuance, gave him a damn good hiding. Well, in the metaphorical sense." Now with his wings splayed akimbo against his sides, Whizzer struck a thoughtful pose. "Nuance, from what I understand, went above and beyond the call of duty and built a castle. Radiance suffered a veritable symphony of unpleasant tactile stimulation in his posteriour region… more so when he realised that he had no way to show his brother up. So… he did his best to at least call a draw." 

"There's a number of buildings here," Sundance remarked. "I was expecting a depot." 

"That over there"—Whizzer pointed with his left front hoof—"is a post office. Or will be. The building is made to exacting Crown standards for a rural postal station. Right beside it is a telegraph station, also built to code. All you have to do is run wire to wherever your barony happens to be. The station is already connected to the line that runs along the rails. That might be a bit of a chore to get connected, but that's for you to do. Remember, the Equestrian Telegraph code demands fifty poles per mile. Not enough poles will mean that your telegraph line will sag and stretch." 

He moved his hoof slightly. "That there is a barracks, for travellers. Simple. Not fancy. Has a wood stove. Twelve bunks. There's a hoof-pumped well-spigot for water. Right beside it is a water tower and a windmill, as you can see. The windmill will pump up water from the well, and there's a swingarm so passing trains can refill their boiler. Will be great for westbound traffic approaching the Canterhorn grade. And there's the platform, which isn't fancy, but it'll be functional. The roof is angled to ensure that heavy snow slides off the rear side, not trackside." 

Sundance took a moment to admire the cedar water tower in all its glory. 

"And that right there is a general purpose building, meant to be your ticket office and whatever else you want it to be. You could probably build a cafe or maybe even a pub in there. Not a big one, mind you. But there's enough space to be creative. There's a woodshed out back to store firewood. It is completely enclosed, so it could be repurposed if necessary." 

"It's incredible," said Sundance. 

"Everything was built with brick over a steel frame," Whizzer continued, his verbal ability seemingly inexhaustible. "Should be sturdy. You'll want to get a caretaker posted here, probably somepony that you don't much like because this place is in the middle of nowhere. They'll have to live in the bunkhouse. I suggested that a caretaker's cottage was a good idea, but I got shushed, because this pony wasn't enlisted for his ability to think. Which is probably for the best, seeing as how my IQ is only just above room temperature. Any higher than that, and I wouldn't be officer material, so I lucked out. I'm just stupid enough to rise through the ranks." 

With his cheek muscles still somewhat aching from the earlier pun bombshell, Sundance smirked. He did nothing to hide it, either. Because why should he? Self-deprecating humour was something he himself regularly engaged in. Ensign Whizzer seemed smart enough; he had a lot to say, a near-endless stream of words, and he wasn't too terribly boring. All in all, Sundance rather liked Ensign Whizzer. 

"Smart ponies make better grunts… sometimes, you have to creatively interpret orders to get them done. Ponies not smart enough to be grunts, we get stuck as officers, 'cause you don't need much in the way of brains to repeat the orders that come down the chain of command. We're special. We're a special kind of special, you could call us special forces even, and we're given command so that we stay out of the way, so real work can get done." 

Whizzer grinned, and there was a manic gleam in his eye. 

Just as Sundance was about to laugh, he heard the long shrill whistle of a fast-approaching train. Ears tall, his head tilted to one side, he listened, and it wasn't long until he heard a train coming from the east. Turning about, he faced himself eastward, watched, and waited. The train was a-coming. He could hear it chugging along, a distant rumble of steam-powered thunder, and he could feel the ground beneath his hooves tremble. 

"Maybe they'll use the water," Whizzer said as he too turned about. "I'd like to see a train-beast have a long drink." 

He saw it in the trees, a mechanical monster black and gleaming. Sundance squinted to see it better, and sure enough, it was slowing down. Belching steam and smoke, the locomotive cleared the trees and chuffed into the open meadow around the station. Its brakes squealed and the stench of hot metal thoroughly violated Sundance's nostrils. A bright red cow catcher stood out, and Sundance could not help but feel that the colour was wholly inappropriate. Perhaps something in yellow… or just basic black. The garish red colour was just plain wrong. 

"Ah, that's the Rooster, running its rounds." Whizzer smacked his lips, a curiously satisfied sound, and then began to nod his head. "Cargo and passengers. Runs between Fillydelphia and Applewood. Fast, too. One of our fastest. The pride of Equestria's finest engineering minds. That locomotive wasn't just constructed, it was poured. It's so long that it has to be articulated, and it weighs a staggering six-hundred tons. Woo-woo, indeed. No other nation has the resources or the means to construct such a behemoth. Just look at it." 

Sundance didn't know what he was looking at, and he didn't think it mattered. What approached was huge. No, huge didn't cut it. What came out of the trees hardly seemed real. It was the sort of locomotive that was so big that it would take at least two smaller locomotives to pull it, and just thinking about that made Sundance's head hurt. The ground quivered, perhaps from terror of what approached, and all the birds took wing as the smoke-belching behemoth slowed to a stop. 

"A spare Tartarus was constructed in the guts of that beast," Whizzer remarked in a tone most solemn. "If you've got kids around, you should bring them to see the Rooster. Passes by every three days at about this time. The return east passes by here at night though. A shame." 

Chuffing, huffing, puffing, the massive mechanical marvel seemed to float on a cloud of steam. Inch by inch, it slowed, and there was a sense that merely stopping required titanic effort. Sundance couldn't even imagine what it took to get it moving again, but then again, he couldn't fathom anything so large actually moving at all in the first place. 

"That right there is Equestria's cock," Whizzer said matter-of-factly. "And what a cock we have." 

Unable to help himself, Sundance snickered at the awful joke. 
> Station operation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The swaying grass near the station platform added an almost surreal element to the moment. So much metal, a monument to industrialisation. Breathing heavily, the great beast creaked and squealed like a whale out of water, and seemed almost as long. How long? Perhaps as long as a ten story building was tall, maybe. Sundance had nothing to compare it to, no frame of reference, and was simply overwhelmed by the sight of it. It almost seemed alien, as if it had come from a different place in time and space. 

"It's thirsty," Whizzer said as the swingarm was brought around from the water tower. 

Something told Sundance that the entire contents of the cedar water tower would vanish into the bowels of the huffing, puffing beast. It would drink and the tower would be left dry. An earth pony, who looked entirely too small, stood atop the resting engine and guided the spout into place with a coal-smutted hoof. Sundance, a foal again, watched in reverent awe as this beastkeeper offered the parched behemoth a refreshing drink. 

"It's good to have some water here," the sooty pony said to nopony in particular. "Going up the grade is thirsty work, and I always worry that we'll go dry afore we reach Ponyville. Sure, a refill means stopping, but it's reassuring to top off the tank." 

In a moment of perfect mental clarity, Sundance knew that he'd have to send his resident changelings to monitor and care for this station. They could fly and could be trusted. Equestria was a vast desert, and any stop along the line was an oasis. Water kept the great beasts moving, water and coal. Waves of intense heat radiated from the parched beast whose great thirst required endless gallons to slake. 

"Ever go dry before reaching Ponyville?" asked Whizzer. 

"Almost once or twice, maybe," the smutty pony replied from his lofty vantage point atop the locomotive. "I know we burned into the reserve tank once. Winter. Heavy storms. They said that they'd have to shut down the line due to snow, but we just powered through. Deep snow can't stop the Rooster." 

"A passenger is getting off," Whizzer said as he placed his right wing over his eyes to protect himself from the sun's merciless glare. "That's a long way from the platform. Goodness." 

"A passenger?" This slipped out as a question, not a statement. Squinting, Sundance peered off into the distance and saw… a speck. All the way back in the trees, there was a speck, and that poor speck had a long, long way to hike before reaching the platform. 

"A passenger." Whizzer smiled as he spoke. "Well, I'm glad we got the station finished. Good first impressions and all that." 

"I am going to guess that I have a new resident," Sundance remarked. 

"Or somepony got tossed off the train for being unruly," Whizzer said. "Either that, or a gambler got caught cheating. You know, this place could use a jail, mmm-hmm." 

The idea of a jail was mightily unpleasant for Sundance—he couldn't imagine needing one. 



 

The fat unicorn huffed and puffed in a manner far less majestic than the mighty Rooster. He appeared quite sweaty in the heat, and mopped his sodden brow with a faded red kerchief. Even from this distance, it could be seen that his suit jacket had many patches and repairs, his collared shirt had seen better days, and his tie was in a sorry state indeed. It was absolutely amazing that his battered canvas suitcase even survived the trip, and Sundance feared that the decrepit luggage would give up the ghost at any second. Short of leg, and wide of body, the pudgy unicorn didn't walk quite so much as he waddled. 

He looked positively miserable as he drew nearer the platform. 

"If this guy is a new resident," Sundanced mused aloud, "I'll need to get him home. Tell me, Whizzer… is there a sky truck around here by chance? I left mine at home." 

"It just so happens that there's a standard-issue chariot in the woodshed. Single passenger. But it is loaded down with leftover supplies from our stay here. Sire, please, please tell me that you're not thinking of commandeering my services and—

"Oh, but I am, Ensign Whizzer. Consider yourself commandeered." 

"Oh, sodding buggery, I've been dry-gulched and blindsided yet again." The ensign sighed. "Aye-aye, Lord Sundance. With but a word, I am at your service. Punnery Sergeant Whizzer, pony transporter." 

"You'll have to strap me down with your excess gear," Sundance said to the pegasus beside him. "I mean, it has to go somewhere if you have a passenger." 

"That's right generous of you, Sire, if you don't mind me saying so. You're not so much a pompous prick like most of the other lords, if I may be so bold." 

"That's kind of you to say, Whizzer." 

"Lots of pompous pricks in the world, Sire. There's no shortage of them. An abundance of pricks. And I for one am grateful that you do not count yourself among them. Still, I have me a fat unicorn to haul. What a chore." 

"Be nice, Whizzer. Sure, he's… uh… portly… but there's no good reason to be mean about it." 

"No offense, Sire, but you're not callous enough to be a proper lord. There must be a shortage of raging assholes in the world if you got signed on." 

Sundance started to reply, but was overcome by laughter instead. 

"I'm in no hurry to return to Canterlot," Whizzer announced. "I know what awaits me. If you have any mares in need of entertainment back home, you could commandeer my services, you know. Lowly baron though you might be, I cannot refuse your orders unless I am ordered otherwise by asshole brass. I am obligated to oblige." 

Sundance had an idea; it was an awful idea, the worst of ideas. 

"That poor fellow, I do believe that he is about to drop dead from the heat. Look at how he stumbles. He might need a rescue." Extending his wing, Whizzer pointed with his primaries just as the worst happened. "Oh… oh no, there he goes. He's down and done for." 



 

Wearing a reckless grin, Whizzer dumped a wooden bucket full of water over the unresponsive unicorn's head. At first, nothing happened, but then the rotund fellow began to recover, bit by bit, little by little. Sundance, unsure of what else to do, fanned with both wings, hoping that a little breeze might help cool things off. Not only was it hot, but it was muggy—brutally so—and the breeze that wafted up from the Everfree was downright steamy. 

"I'm gonna get another bucket, be right back." Without another word, Whizzer took off. 

The unicorn moaned, groaned, and then made a faint, feeble wicker. 

Now a bit worried, Sundance continued to flap his wings, and he wished Corduroy were here. This somehow seemed a bit more serious than he liked, and Sundance began to realise that a short walk after getting off of a train shouldn't be enough to do a pony in—even an obese pony wearing clothing in the summertime heat. His gut told him that something more serious was wrong, but what remained to be seen. 

"Hey, Whizzer, hurry up with that bucket," Sundance said. 

"Aye-aye, Sire!" 

"Can you hear me, stranger?" asked Sundance. 

"Ahnunfeelsogahud." 

"He was carrying a heavy suitcase," Sundance said, thinking aloud. "His magic depleted him, I think. It's not just the heat. Whizzer, do you have any food?" 

"There's some ration bars left and I think—" 

"Go and get them after you bring the bucket. Hurry. Double time. I mean it, hurry!" 

"Aye-aye, Sire!" 



 

The train was gone, but could be heard chuffing and huffing along in the distance as it climbed the Canterhorn grade. A few brave birds had returned, and cautiously chirped to let the others know that it was now safe. Three ponies sat beneath the shady eave of a brick bunkhouse, one fanning with his wings, one watching, and one trying to eat but making a real mess of things. 

"The honey-groat ration bars taste bloody awful," Whizzer, the pony that watched said. "There's a metallic aftertaste that just puts me off my feed. Maybe they really are full of iron, as promised. Truth in advertising… who knew?" 

Sundance—whose nose was crinkled in disgust as he continued to fan the stricken unicorn—said as he held his head away, "Smells like a secondary school locker room." 

"It's like you haven't eaten in a while," Whizzer said to the unicorn. 

"I haven't," the unicorn mumbled around a mouthful of crumbled honey-groat ration bar. "It's been a while." 

"You have a name?" asked Whizzer. 

"Gallows Humour," the unicorn replied. 

"Well, that's quite a name." Ensign Whizzer took a step back, extended his wings, and then joined Sundance in fanning duty.

"I was once a Chuckles, but that changed. Everything changed. And not for the better." 

Whizzer gave a knowing nod and asked, "You got a story to tell us? Least you can do for us feeding you. Not that we'd charge, mind you. Just basic equine decency, I tell you. There's a lot of money in these old threads of yours, but they've gone tattered." After a sniff, he added, "And are in need of a good laundering."

In response, Gallows Humour chortled, almost choked, coughed, sputtered, and then made a huge effort to swallow. A bit worried, Sundance watched, waited, ready to leap into action, but it seemed as though everything went down fine and without further incident. When he turned his head to have a look, he saw Whizzer steal a glance in his direction, and Sundance wondered what the punny pegasus was thinking. 

"My mark ruined my life." 

"That's quite a thing to say, Mister Humour." Half at-attention, half slouching, Whizzer shook his head from side to side. "Can't say I've ever heard of a pony's mark screwing a pony's life, but I suppose it's possible. I have to say, I've never seen a pony with a noose for a mark before. It did take me a bit by surprise when I saw it. Left me with a couple of questions, it did. Which I'll probably ask, sooner or later, because I'm rude like that." 

Sundance, who failed to notice this detail, said nothing; he didn't try to look, either. 

"These ration bars smell like a prison shower," Gallows Humour said as he took a tentative sniff of the offending foodstuff. "Trust me, I know." 

"So they stink of unrequited homoeroticism, desperation, a drain clogged with stallion wax, and despair?" asked Whizzer. 

When Gallows Humour almost choked, so did Sundance. Somehow, Whizzer maintained an intense deadpan expression—even his eyes showed no sign of mirth. After sucking in a huge lungful of air, Sundance was no better off, and he feared for Gallows Humour's wellbeing as the portly unicorn's belaboured wheezing turned into prolonged gasps. Whizzer's bombshells were something else entirely, something awful, something not wholesome or good. 

"You're a funny guy," Gallows Humour wheezed out between gasps. "I used to be funny… but something happened… I became… the punchline." His eyes turned glassy and tears threatened to overflow. "Sunfire Barony seems… deserted. Just a few buildings. What have I done? Have I made yet another mistake? Been doing that a lot, lately." 

"Oh-ho, don't you fret. This is just the train station." Whizzer's voice was tinged with kindness as he offered some reassurance. "Are you in some kind of trouble, Mister Humour? Looking for an out? Need some time to recover, do you?" 

"I need a place to start over," Gallows Humour replied. "Or maybe a place to end." 

"All things end, Mister Humour." While still kind, Whizzer was now more than a little serious. "But not under my watch. Father Goose would have my head. You hang on. I've got a bottle of fizzy fruit punch to wash down those vile ration bars. I was saving it to drink it just before I left, but I think you need it more than I do." 

"That's very kind of you." Gallows Humour's head lolled on his neck for a moment, but he recovered and held himself up without requiring assistance. "All this kindness gave my fall to the bottom a slightly softer landing…" 



 

The fizzy soda hissed and crackled in the glass bottle. Sundance's ears twitched with every sound, but his body—with his wings tucked against his sides—remained quite still. After a bit of food and some sugary soda, Gallows Humour had perked up a bit, though it was obvious that he wasn't well. Corduroy had a patient, that much was for certain, but the unicorn would recover. As for Whizzer… well, Sundance believed with all of his heart that Ensign Whizzer deserved a medal. There were soldiers, and then there were Whizzers, the reason why it was the commonly held belief that soldiers were inherently good ponies. 

"Alright, out with it. I sacrificed my soda pop so there's no point in keeping me waiting." When Whizzer moved his head, raising it, the hinges of his armor creaked softly. 

"I worked with the Manehattan Corrections & Penal System." These words came out as a heavy, resigned sigh and Gallows Humour shook his head from side to side. "It's the mark's fault. Job placement services put me there after I failed to establish myself anywhere else. It's pretty obvious what I did, I think. Executions are rare, but they happen. About a year ago… has it been a year already? I think it has…" His eyes glazed over with tears and his lower lip trembled. 

"Feels like so much longer… like a lifetime." His glazed gaze fell to the floor and he shook his head. "I didn't want to do it. I begged. But I was made to do my job. I was cajoled and told that the condemned was truly deserving and the Wardens insisted that there was no doubt of his guilt. I was to end the life of the Broncs Buggerer… he did things to colts… he did awful things… terrible things… and then he buried them beneath the floor in his workshop. This was supposed to assuage me of my guilt. It didn't." 

"I know who that is," Whizzer said, his voice low and slow. "They're making a movie about that sick, twisted prick. I has me some mixed feelings about that, let me tell you." 

"I was the funniest pony in the prison." Gallows Humour's lips pressed together to form a narrow, straight line, which lingered for a short time before he continued, "Was well liked by the prisoners and the guards alike. Took some lip for not being a hardass, but supervisors saw my jovial nature as an asset. That changed though… all that changed. It all changed the night I tied the noose to hang the Broncs Buggerer. 

"Sometimes, when you're nervous and distraught"—he paused here and took a small sip from the glass bottle filled with fizzy, bright red liquid—"you make mistakes. It was my big night. It was my worst night. I was sick with anxiety. But I had to do what needed to be done, right? I mean… that's why we have these marks, right? Right? So why was I so resistant to what I was born to do?" 

Whizzer turned away and Sundance could no longer see the ensign's face. 

"I messed up plain and simple." His voice now cold and utterly lacking in emotion, Gallows Humour held the bottle of soda inches away from his muzzle. "His neck didn't break. Nope. He strangled, just like his victims. It took forever. Forever. He kicked and thrashed and struggled, but his end was in no hurry. And we let him suffer. We let him hang. 

"Did I lose my job? No. Did I get in trouble?" Gallows Humour's eyes closed. "Nope. I was lauded as a hero. I gave him the death he deserved. I got thanked. Got fruit baskets delivered to my home. Got postcards covered in thanks and gratitude. I got a commendation from the governor of the city. It was all too much. Too much. After a few weeks, I quit my job. 

"Before I quit my job though… maybe it was the fruit baskets… but I started eating a lot. Like, a lot. Food was comforting. And after I quit my job… well, I had a lot of free time. So I ate. A lot. And my wife watched as I began to self-destruct. But she didn't help me, no. She told me to quit my pity party and get over it. I'd taken a life… I made him suffer… and she told me to just get over it. So I ate even more to ease the ache. She made the ache so much worse." 

"Must have been a long year," Whizzer remarked. 

"Oh, it was. It was." Gallows Humour's eyes opened, he shook his head, and he took a long pull from the glass bottle. "Since I was the funniest pony in prison, and because I felt like crying all the time, all day, every day, I decided to be funny. I decided that I would end my depression by being funny. Started going to open mic nights. Didn't go well. Ponies were laughing at me, not with me. But hey, that was a draw. That was a draw. It brought in the crowds. Come and laugh at the sad sack. 

"The fat sad sack. I was eating… it just made me feel better. I ate, and ate, and after a bad night, I'd just eat until I couldn't feel anything but full. Ponies came to laugh at me so they wouldn't feel so bad about their own shitty lives. But that took its toll, I guess. Wife left me. She left me and went to live with her sister and her mother. That actually helped my career. I made jokes about that, and the ponies laughed at me. The crowds grew larger and the laughs a whole lot louder. 

"But the act grew stale. I needed misfortune to be funny. Got served the divorce papers, and on the next day, an eviction notice. The rent hadn't been paid for a while. Just walked away. Left it all behind. Well, almost everything. Went to my parents… but they turned me away. I knew they would. I knew they would. They were never too keen that I married an earth pony. My dad… he stuck his head out the door and told me to leave so that my mother could mourn her lost son. She cried a lot, I guess. Terrible thing, losing a son to a marriage. 

"When I incorporated this into the act, nopony found it funny. What a buzzkill. A career killer. My agent quit, but not before taking his sixty percent and then some. I tried alcohol instead of food. Took what I had left of my savings—it was smart not paying the rent—and I did my best to find out if being a lush might save my stand up career. 

"It didn't. Spent a few weeks… maybe a few months just completely soused. It kept things numb. I didn't cry as much. But I'm not a funny drunk. Showed up at my parents once more. Didn't leave when asked. Got arrested, and my belligerence got me a beating from the cops. I don't remember being belligerent. Don't remember slipping on the stairs, either. But I did. Was a long way down. 

"Heard about Sunfire Barony on the radio. Heard bad things. Heard good things. There was a lot being said. But this Sundance fella… he sounded nice. I needed nice. Ended up at the train station… a few weeks ago? A month ago? I was broke. But I was sober. No money to buy booze. No money to buy a train ticket. I became one of the bums that begs for bits outside the train station. Made a sign, just like all the other bums. Went hungry, just like all the other bums. Did a lot of thinking about how I ended up where I did, just like all the other bums. 

"I saved my bits. Wanted to buy food, but didn't. Lived on scraps in trash cans. Ponies throw a lot of food away. They do. I survived on what they threw away, and I hoarded every bit given to me out of pity. Spoke to a nice mare that gave me some soup. Told her what I wanted to do. She bought me a ticket. That was… a few days ago? Time hasn't been right for a while." 

"Well, as luck would have it," Whizzer began, "This Sundance fellow is rather nice. Not a prick like most nobles. Not at all a tosser." 

"I'd like to meet him," Gallows Humour said. "His story gave me the courage to change." 

"As it just so happens…" Whizzer's head turned in Sundance's direction. "I can arrange for you to meet him." He raised his hoof and gestured. "He's a good listener. A bit of a quiet type, which I took for being aloof, but I think I was wrong about that. Also has a sterling sense of humour, and laughs at all my jokes. Even the bad ones."

The soda bottle trembled and almost fell. Gallows Humour inhaled sharply, held his breath for a moment, and Sundance found himself at a loss for words. He managed to smile, but that felt inadequate. The troubled unicorn was having himself a hard time, and his eyes were glassy with tears once more. An immense struggle took place as Sundance tried to think of something meaningful to say, but nothing came to mind. Everything that did seemed meaningless, hollow, or worse, patronising. 

"Is it true that you take in society's rejects?" 

For a short time, Sundance considered the question, and then responded, "It is true that I take in those that our society has failed. You've had a rough go of things, Mister Humour. Sounds to me that you need a place to recover… and maybe find yourself." 

"I do…" Gallows Humour's voice turned raspy and strained. "I've heard so many things. Some say your barony is a penal colony. Others call it a rubbish bin for the dregs of society. But I couldn't believe that those things were true. I had to come and see it for myself." 

Somewhat upset—but not with the distraught unicorn—Sundance rubbed the back of his scarred neck with the bony forward edge of his wing. He had one prisoner, that much was true, but one prisoner did not a penal colony make. Twilight Sparkle's public image campaign now made a bit more sense—a lot more sense. He became aware that Whizzer was staring at him, and he wondered why. Maybe it didn't matter. What did matter, as of right now, was getting Gallows Humour home, and settled. 

Corduroy would probably scrub him. 
> Infinite power
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was sad to watch Whizzer go. The Punnery Sergeant shrank into insignificance as he went westwards en route to Canterlot. Sundance quite liked the soldier and wondered if he would ever see him again. He had high hopes accompanied by all the usual dreadful fears. There was a lot to do and he was in desperate need of a cup of tea. There was so much to do that Sundance wasn't sure where to start. As he stood there, his eyes westward, he wondered when Turmeric might return. The yellow unicorn would know just what to do and when to do it. 

"The wagon was a bust." Beside him, Hoppy pensively drew nearer, her every movement hesitant and cautious. "Double Helping is a smart little fella. He tried to tell us that the wagon was a bust long before we knew the wagon was a bust. But he knew." 

"What happened?" asked Sundance as he beckoned Hoppy closer, though with some hesitation of his own. If she flirted again, aggressively or otherwise, this might get awkward. 

"Physics, I guess?" She scuttled closer, her sidelong movement jerky. "I checked out that hearse… the lift system. Had ideas for a wagon that used the same principle, I thought that we could haul heavy loads and use Celestium to turn a load of bricks into a load of feathers. But then again… a pound of bricks weighs as much as a pound of feathers." She shook her head from side to side, distracted. 

"The idea was flawed from the start. The cargo isn't made lighter, and the full weight of it comes down on the wagon bed. Which is wood, and buckles under too much weight. The lift system would reduce how much weight bore down on the wheels and axles, but that was flawed in design as well. The electricity wouldn't always be flowing, and when that happened, you had an overloaded wagon that would crush its own axles and turn its own wheels into matchsticks. 

"But the idea was still a good one. I guess. Even if it can't be done. Hey, at least we were thinking. But this is probably why we don't have Celestium-assisted wagons cluttering up the roads." Head tilted off to one side, Hoppy relaxed a little. "Double Helping is a lot like me. He's smart, but not smart. Like, I can tinker and fix most anything, even if I don't understand how it works exactly. But I can work out how mechanical systems relate to one another and how they interact. Even if I can't tell you why it works, I can fix it. Most of the time. And Double Helping is the same way. Only he was smarter than all of us today, and knew that we were wasting our time, but he went along with the plan anyway." 

"You sound proud of him," Sundance remarked. 

"Maybe I am?" Puzzled, Hoppy took a moment to consider her feelings, and she hummed to herself while her face contorted from the mental gymnastics she performed. "I'm gonna teach that boy all I know," she said at last as her face relaxed a bit. 

"Maybe you should take him on as your apprentice?" 

Nopony was more surprised by Sundance's words than he was, though Hoppy was a close second. 

"I'm not a wizard though… unless you mean like… a career apprentice, like a baker taking on a trainee." 

"No, I mean… like… that thing that unicorns do. I don't think it matters if you're a wizard." Frustrated with his lack of knowledge, Sundance thought of Sunburst and Chartreuse. They were wizards, sure, but also so much more. With a turn of his head, he looked Hoppy right in the eye, and much to his relief, she didn't glance away or try to stare elsewhere. "Teach Double Helping everything you know. Be his friend. Maybe even mother him a bit. However old he might be, he still has his moments. I think it will be good for both of you." 

"You really think so?" she asked, curious. 

"I do," he replied with eye-contact maintained, which was rather uncomfortable. 

Desire glinted in the windows to Hoppy's soul. 

"We went from having a shortage of unicorns here to having a few," he began in restrained tones. "Now, for unicorns to thrive, they need to do whatever it is that unicorns do. And that means doing the apprentice thing that unicorns do." As he spoke, he thought of Gallows Humour, who was in the infirmary at the moment. 

Even unicorns could fall through the vast chasms in the system. 

"I suppose I can do my part," Hoppy replied. "To be honest, I like it here. I like that I feel needed. Necessary. I must confess, I had some doubts about living here. A lot of doubts. But… this is the freest that I've ever been. Is 'freest' even a word? Nevermind. Granny said to me just last night, I'm free to be me, and she's totally right. I've been so busy trying to survive that I haven't had time to be me. I had to be the survivor. But that's changed. And maybe I should have an apprentice. I think I will." 

Then, in a somewhat lower voice, she added, "I really do need to get a lift from you, if possible. For the greenhouses. And the used airship. Please, don't forget about me." 

"When do you want to go?" he asked. 

"Sooner the better. I'd like to have those greenhouses constructed by winter. A good supply of strawberry wine requires year-round growth. That, and the barony could use an airship. Even a junker. I miss mine. When I gutted it, and dismantled everything, I discovered that her spine was broken. After what the autopsy revealed, I don't even know how she flew." 

"Where are we going?" 

"Fillydelphia." She frowned. "Well, not Fillydelphia proper. Outside of Filly. I know the way by air. All the landmarks. And there's a shipyard as well." 

"Tomorrow?" asked Sundance. 

"That works for me. Thank you, Sundance. I promise you, the trouble will be worth it. This'll do great things for all of us." 

"Tomorrow then. Bright and early. Be prepared. We'll leave at dawn." 

"Dawn, eh? I can do that. Thank you, Sundance. You're the best." 



 

A one-eyed colt got his just desserts and was mercilessly hugged almost to death by a mare determined to be his parent. Sundance watched as the scene played out, but did nothing to intervene. On the table in front of him was a cup of tea—plain—and a half of a tea biscuit that bore the distinct marks of Sundance's teeth. In a nearby corner of the dining hall, Grandmother Growler tried to show Gerard and Gisela how to pluck a banjo—but there was only one banjo and three griffons. Flax and Tarantula were engaged in a fierce game of ring-toss, but neither of them had successfully landed a wooden ring on a hook. They were eager participants though, and fierce competitors. 

Amber Dawn had her hoof pressed down upon a book to hold it open and read the contents therein to Silent Thunder and Lemongrass. Bonk and Runt were brushing one another; Bonk did rather well at her task, while Runt made a mess of things. At least he tried. Express Delivery fawned over the littlest and smallest residents, Sweet Relish and Doodlebug. Hollyhock's pegasus filly, Sweet Relish, she was named in memory of Cucumber. As for Doodlebug, a rolly-polly-pudgy earth pony filly, Sundance had no idea why she was named as such, but adored the name nonetheless. 

The older gathered around to watch the younger. 

"Sundance…" 

Mentioned by name, he turned his head in Paradox's direction and raised his ears. 

"Litany gave me a book." Paradox leaned over the table a bit and she lowered her voice. "It's a published essay by Dim Dark. I think you should read it." 

"If I had the time to read it, I would." 

"Well, you should make time." Her tone chiding, Paradox narrowed her eyes at Sundance. "Dim is considered by many… or maybe most to be completely amoral, but he writes amazing essays on morality and ethics. And this one is superb. Most of the stuff I read from him is about blowing stuff up, and he's good at that. But he's great at this. You should read it." 

"Can you just… I dunno… give me the gist of it?" he asked. 

She frowned, clearly disappointed, but she nodded her head. "I can. But I am going to insist that you read this. Maybe the next time that you're laid out flat in the infirmary. I'll even come and read it to you." 

"You have a deal," he said with the hopes that he might mollify the insistent unicorn. It did bother him though that Paradox counted on the fact that he'd get hurt again, and just the thought of it caused his scars to ache in an unpleasant manner. 

"Equestria has an energy crisis. We do. Plenty of ponies want to deny it, but we do. It's become a political issue, even. A topic that divides us." She paused, cleared her throat, and then raised her voice just a little, but not much. "The thing is, we don't have to have an energy crisis. There is, uh, a solution for all of our energy needs. At least, in theory. And what a theory it is. Dim goes into it in detail, and even discusses his own experiences with it, because of what he did during the Great War when the nations of old-world Ponyland unified with the Midreach to battle the forces of Menagerie." 

Rather clumsily, Sundance picked up his half-eaten tea biscuit and nibbled. 

"A lot of bad things happened during the Great War. Awful things. Dim did a lot of terrible things… such as introducing the world to fully industrialised warfare. But he doesn't feel bad for that. He says that he does feel remorse for his energy solutions, and he elucidates upon his thoughts in his essay." 

Listening, Sundance raised an eyebrow with the hopes that Paradox would take a hint. 

"Not every unicorn can do this, but a fair number of them could… in theory. You see, Sundance, we're a steam driven society. And we use coal to generate heat. But relying on coal is idiotic. Anypony that depends upon a depleting resource for power is a moron. But, for boilers to work, for turbines to spin and for pistons to pump, we need heat." 

He nodded whilst he chewed on tiny crumbs from his tea biscuit. 

"Dim summoned fire elementals and contained them to heat the boilers for the machines of war. And he really regrets it. I can see why. Well, I didn't at first, but I can see it so clearly now. I can summon fire spirits and fire elementals. And, well, they're fire. They'll stick around for however long they last, until their bodies burn out and their spirits return to the Infernium. Wizards did this back in the old days. Summoned and enslaved elementals to make lamps and to power Equestria's earliest steam engines. So we've always had the means for unlimited, endless energy." 

Now, at last, Sundance was intrigued, and so he listened intently. 

"Dim goes into the why. Fire elementals, fire spirits, some of them are barely even sapient. Some of them are just… well, like dumb beasts. You could conjure one and with proper wards, you could force it to live in your fireplace and heat your home, until such a time when it expires. And then you just summon another. But that's wrong… and here's why it is wrong. 

"We're creatures of compassion. Or, at least, we're supposed to be. And one of the things we do is act as caretakers for the lesser beasts around us. We have cows, and goats, and chickens, and creatures that we, uh, well, there's no nice way of saying it, we're animals that keep other animals as livestock. They give us milk, and eggs, and wool, and in return, we give them life, and protection, and comfort, and care. It is a mutually beneficial relationship that we both get something in return from. 

"I mean, cows talk, sure. But cows are dumb.. Not mute, but stupid. Without us, cows might be extinct. They can't build civilisation, or perform great acts as a society, and the whole of their existence depends upon our compassion. Which really makes me stop and think about what you and I are doing here, and well, that's a different topic of conversation. 

"But these fire spirits and fire elementals… there is nothing we can give them in return. Nothing we can offer them. We abduct them away from their plane of existence, and then we exploit them. We take from them, but have nothing to give in return. And that's wrong. And that's what this book is all about. Dim goes into detail about why this is an immoral and unethical act. Because it is not a mutually beneficial relationship where both parties get something as part of an exchange. And for you, as our baron, I really do think that you should read this." 

"So we can do that… but we still use coal?" Perplexed, this was the first question that emerged out of Sundance. 

"In the old days, when Equestria was young, and we first started building crude airships, we used bound elementals." An intense frown caused Paradox's face to wrinkle. "Princess Celestia never outlawed this practice. It just… sorta… went away… on its own. For some reason." She tilted her head to the left, then to the right, and then shook her head hard enough that it made her ears flop around. "We… stopped doing this on our own, Sundance… without Princess Celestia telling us that we were wrong, and that we should stop. That's uh…" 

Sundance's ears went rigid as her words trailed off into a muted gasp. 

"The lesson is that we should trust in the good of others," he said when it was clear that words had failed Paradox. "Or maybe the lesson is something else entirely. You know, Paradox… I never really gave much thought to the energy crisis. Here, we barely even have electricity, and yet"—he inhaled through pursed lips—"I know we need it. Just don't know how to provide it. And if we get airships to move goods, how am I going to power those?" 

"Not with summoned fire spirits, I would hope," she said with mock-solemnity. 

"Never with those," he replied. "So, Paradox… tell me… how would you solve Equestria's energy crisis?" 
> Fillydelphia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Golden rays of dawn reflected in Wort's eyes as the colt peered up at his mother with his lip all a-tremble. Though he looked away, Sundance was keenly aware of the moment, and recalled all too well how upset he would get when his own mother would depart for work. Every day it was the same old business, and he would try to make her stay. The fear that she might never return home from her shift never fully went away, and stayed with him even now. Wort was no different; he wanted his mother to stay so that he could keep an eye on her. 

"Are you going to bring me home a daddy?" the mournful colt asked of his mother. 

"No Wort," she replied with obvious patience and good grace. "Not this time." 

"Well"—the colt did his best to appear hopeful—"what about a brother or a sister? Can you bring one of those home?" 

"Wort… sweetie… it doesn't work that way. That's not how brothers and sisters happen." 

In a rare moment of youthful triumph, where the young utterly destroy the social order and turn everything around them topsy-turvy, little Wort raised his foreleg, blinked once, blinked a second time as he mulled over whatever was going through his mind, and then with a slow and deliberate motion, he pointed right at Sundance. Then, he stabbed his hoof in Sundance's direction multiple times as if to emphasise his point. 

Defeated as she was by her own son, Hoppy's expression turned deadpan. 

"Oh… Worty… what will Mama do with you?" 

"This is clearly my fault," Sundance said. 

"Yeah"—Hoppy nodded her head in agreement—"this is entirely your fault." Then, to her son, she said, "Wort… just pick a brother or sister. There's plenty of them running around." 

"No," the colt shook his head from side to side. "Not the same." 

"Bye, Wort." Still deadpan in both voice and expression, Hoppy waved at her son. 

"Come back with something," Wort said to his mother, almost pleading. 

"And not something that takes a shot to clear up, so help me—" 

"Granny!" With a stomp of her hoof, Hoppy silenced Grandmother Growler mid-sentence. 

When Sundance chuckled, Hoppy shot him a malevolent glare full of promise. 

"So I sowed my wild oats a bit," Hoppy muttered beneath her breath. "I grew up and got responsible. I settled down and raised my son." 

"Congratulations," Grandmother Growler said to her daughter while she waved her left talons all about. "You did what normal creatures do when faced with responsibility. Do you need a trophy? A cake maybe? A celebratory commemoration for the time you sacrificed yourself for the good of your son?" 

Wearing a terrific scowl, Hoppy shook her head and replied, "No." 

It was time to go, and Sundance knew it. To that end, he waved his wing. Then, with a smile, he turned about to face Gerard, who wasn't quite awake just yet. "You… when you circle, keep my barony safe." 

"It's a vulture thing," Gerard said in a low whisper, offering up an excuse when none were needed. 

"I don't mind if you do it. Just keep us safe. I'm trusting you." 

"Thank you, Sundance." 

"And you, Pluck—" 

"While you're gone, you're putting me in charge?" the eager earth pony colt asked. 

"Nope." Wearing a broad grin, Sundance lowered his head until he was eye-level with the expectant colt. "Pluck… I have a very important job for you that I want you to—" 

"What is it?" the one-eyed colt demanded. 

"I want you to keep an eye out for trouble." 

With a wheeze and a gasp, Silent Thunder collapsed into the dewy grass and began to roll around, his whole body trembling with mute mirth. Pluck rolled his eye, bit his lip, and then tried to kick his pegasus companion, but missed. Gerard laughed, but this turned into a yawn. It took a few seconds, but Hoppy began to chortle, and Grandmother Growler stared sightlessly in Sundance's general direction. 

"Yer a funny guy, Sundance." The earth pony colt's tone suggested that he was not amused.

"Yeah, Pluck. I know. I'm a hoot." 

"Keep laughing, feather-brain," Pluck said to Silent Thunder, who still rolled in the grass. 

"We'd best be going," Sundance suggested. "There's a lot to do today." 





A red line races eastward, towards the coast of Equestria…



 

Fillydelphia was a wound that stretched in all directions. Even from his lofty height, Sundance had trouble seeing all of it. For the first time, he began to understand the doomsayer's claims that Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and Baltimare might all become one megacity. This was only the outskirts—the heart of the city was still a tiny representation of itself off in the distance. No ocean was visible yet, just endless sprawl. 

"Incoming!" Hoppy shouted. 

Hearing the warning, Sundance slowed a bit and scanned the skies. A pair of armored guards approached at incredible speeds—truly terrific speeds—and Sundance could not help but envy them. They did not wear golden armor, no. These two wore combat armor with a dull matte-black finish that seemed to swallow light. It was sleek, modern, and somewhat terrifying. Their helmets had mirrored visors that completely hid their faces. They looked less like ponies and more like… something else. Perhaps something mechanical. 

Maybe that was the point. 

"State your destination," one shouted with an amplified voice that blasted from a public address loudspeaker mounted to his armor. 

"Jersey City," Hoppy hollered in response. 

"Central Fillydelphia is closed until further notice. Proceed north. If you attempt to enter the city proper, you will be arrested and detained. Your cart will be confiscated indefinitely. Do you understand?" 

"We understand," Hoppy replied. 

"Thank you for obeying the no-fly order. Go about your business, citizen." The black-clad pegasus gestured northward. 

When she spoke, Hoppy's voice was curiously defiant: "I'm a citizen, but this is Lord Sundance, of Sunfire Barony. Have some respect, grunt!" 

One of the pegasus ponies lifted up his mirrored visor, squinted at Sundance, and then looked back at the sky truck. "Typically, the lord is hauled about by his peasants. This is… odd." 

"I work for a living," Sundance said as his guts churned from his anxiousness. 

"Well, your Lordship, feel free to go north. Do not approach Central Fillydelphia. Princess Celestia would be mightily inconvenienced if she had to come and bail you out. We'll send word ahead. Being a lord and all, we trust that you'll behave. Ma'am, you've done your lord a service." He lowered his visor, which clicked into place, and then gestured with his foreleg. "Move along." 



 

"What is all of this?" Sundance shouted back to his passenger. 

"Farms," was Hoppy's terse response. 

Farms? All Sundance saw was concrete, steel, and brick. There wasn't a single speck of green. Not one shrub, not one tree, not even a blade of grass. The air was thick with a redolent, pungent reek that made him long for the delightful stench he had back home. He looked everywhere, but he couldn't see a farm. No meadows, no pastures as far as the eye could see. Just massive buildings—truly huge buildings that were as long as a skyscraper was tall. 

"I don't see any farms," Sundance said over the wind. "I mean, I'm not a farmer, but I own farms. They're very pretty." 

"Factory farms, silly. Jersey City is the heart of Equestria's dairy industry. All those buildings down below, they house cows. Tens of thousands of them… sometimes all in just one factory. And they—" 

"But what do they eat?" Sundance demanded, disturbed. "I have cows back home. They need to graze!"
 
"These cows live in tiny stalls, which they never leave. They're fed cow-pellets, so they don't need to graze. They spend all their lives being milked, and when they get old and die, they get turned into pet food and the leather is sold to the military or something, so I've heard." 

"But… cows talk." 

"Business is business. The military doesn't care where its leather comes from, I'm sure." 

"But… the cows… they talk. They have feelings." 

"Yeah, I feel bad for them, but what can you do? Ponies love cheese. And milk. Oh, and butter. And ice cream. There's something like fifty million ponies on the east coast. Maybe more. I don't even know. All of them wanted milk and milk byproducts. Something had to be done. The solution was factory farming." 

"This is disgusting!" he shouted. 

"You never found out where your food came from?" she asked. 

Defeated, Sundance wasn't sure how to respond. He'd always just assumed that food was there on the grocery store shelves, or in the freezer at the corner bodega. It was just something that he took for granted, and he never thought too much about the source. But looking down, and seeing the source, he felt sick to his stomach. His eyes burned from the searing hot sewage vapours that wafted upwards. 

"There's millions and millions of cows in Jersey City," Hoppy said. "More cows than ponies. We built a city to house cows, and this is the city we built." 

Down below, construction workers worked on a canal, which wound its way between the factories. In another canal a few factories over, a herd of cows was being transported on a barge. Everything was a grid of canals and long buildings, along with a few narrow streets. So many canals, and they were all so crowded in some areas as goods were moved from place to place. 

"All these canals… I heard that there's plans to build a canal that stretches all the way up to Manehattan. It's probably a rumour, but it might be true. I mean, they could just use the ocean, but canals are probably safer. Fillydelphia is the city of canals. They're the arteries that pump the lifeblood of industry. An earth pony can only haul so much in a wagon, and a wagon can only hold so much of a load. But a team of earth ponies can haul literal tons and tons of goods on a barge in a canal. There's a sort of gross beauty to it all. I didn't want this for Wort." 

Painted on the roof of one of the factories, Sundance saw a chicken and an egg. It had to be as long as a high-rise apartment building. A canal actually flowed into the southern end of the building, and as Sundance flew overhead, a barge emerged from this entrance, no doubt loaded down with eggs. A pony that loved eggs, he now felt more than a little queasy, and as soon as he got home, he was going to hug his hens. 

Was this the cost of prosperity and growth? 

The horror that this was considered farmland numbed him. 

"Veer west a bit. I can see the shipyard from here, and the greenhouse supplier isn't too far off. There's a bank, too. A farmer's bank. We'll need to make a few stops. We can use the shipyard's runway, they won't mind. Well, they might mind, but if they give you any lip, I'll geld them. We call it the Jersey Jerk. Nothing like a good tug on the testicles to give a pony an attitude adjustment." 

Overwhelmed by everything, Sundance couldn't wait to return home. 



 

The shipyard piqued Sundance's interest, and distracted him somewhat from the horrors around him. They'd landed in the salvage section, where old hulks were scrapped. It was an immense facility—and had to be because airships tended to be quite large. A row of wooden ships in various states of decrepit disrepair stood like silent sentinels at the far end of the runway. A perfectly round spherical ship sat atop a bed of sandbags to keep it from rolling around. It's glass window in the front made it look like some sort of cyclopean eye. 

However interesting the derelict hulks might be, the stench here was abominable. 

They were only on the ground for mere moments, and already a pony approached. Tall, lean of body, but broad and wide of leg, with a neck like a keg, the earth pony that trotted over was quite a sight. He was so greasy, so sooty, and so filthy that it was impossible to determine what colour he was. His mane was a clumped, clotted tangle of filth, and when Sundance caught a whiff of him, he was shocked to discover that something smelled worse than the factory farms all around him. 

"Goldshoe! Stay back! You smell positively wretched! What have you been doing?" Hoppy lept out of the sky truck, landed, and then immediately began to retreat. "I mean it, Goldshoe! Back! Back or it's the zapper! I'll give you the cattle prod setting!" 

"Heyas, Hoppy. How's life?" The disgustingly dirty earth pony drew closer, sniffed, then halted. "I can't smell nuttin'. Been cleaning out the septic system of a ship we just got in. The water reclaimer is fried and the whole system is backed up in shit." 

The feculent funk smacked Sundance in the face and left him woozy. 

"Been a while, Hoppy. Ain't seen ya around." 

There was no smile to be seen on Hoppy's face when she said, "I did what's best for my son. I've settled down. Found a place to live that isn't open sky." 

"So you've come down from the clouds, eh, Hoppy?" Goldshoe's smile was like a picket fence missing most of its boards. 

"Goldshoe… what did you do? Crawl into the pipe and push everything out the pooper?" 

"Yeah, I did. I crawled into the pipe, I braced myself, and then I pushed with all my strength. Farted a few times from the strain. Mighta sharted. Not like it matters. When I got done, I had a thirty-six foot log of brick-hard feces shoved out the poop chute. I'm proud of what I did." 

"Goldshoe… gross… just… gross." 

Though it was wholly inappropriate, Sundance hoped this wasn't Wort's father. 

"Sundance, this is Bucklebad Goldshoe." She took a step closer, sniffled, and then wiped her watery eyes with her foreleg. "Goldshoe, this is Lord Sundance, of the Sunfire Barony." 

"Aw, shit, I stink of shit in front of a fancy lord." Goldshoe's smile grew ever wider, revealing more empty spaces where teeth once lived, but had long since moved out, no doubt in search of something better. "Pleased to meetcha. Welcome to Jersey City." 

"The pleasure is mine," Sundance said, remembering well the manners his grandmother taught him. 

"He's a nice feller," Goldshoe said to Hoppy. "So is it time for a new rig, Hop-Hop?" 

"Maybe." She frowned, and then fanned the air with her hoof in a vain effort to wave Goldshoe's malodorous reek away. "It'll be on credit, and I don't want to dig myself too deep. I don't actually need it right now, but I will soon and I—" 

"And you want to get it now so you can start fixing it." Ears splayed sideways, Goldshoe offered up a thoughtful nod to Hoppy. "What if I told you that you could get a new ship for the cost of a used one?" 

"Then I'd tell you that not only have you crawled through shit, but that you're full of shit." 

Striving to be diplomatic, Sundance disguised his suppressed laughter as a cough. 

"No, really." Now, Goldshoe's ears lifted; as they did so, a niblet of corn fell out of the right one, rolled down his neck, and tumbled to the ground. "My brother, he's started fabricating what we like to call a bare bones ship. 'Cause it's bare bones. Literally. We're selling a skeleton that is infinitely customisable to suit your needs. And 'cause my brother is one of those bleatin' enviro-nuts, our bare bones ships are made to run on alcohol… which you just so happen to be damn good at a-makin'." 

"Fine, I'll have a look. But I'd better like what I see. And if you're trying to scam me of all ponies, It'll be the zapper for you. I mean it, Goldshoe. I'll set all your hair on end." 

"I'd scam a lot of ponies, Hop-Hop, but not you. Follow me. They're in the hangar." 



 

What hung from the ceiling is what Sundance imagined a whale skeleton might look like. It was literally the skeletal frame of the ship. No hull. No deck. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a series of triangles all connected at the corners, with each triangle about a yard or so apart. The ship he was looking at had fifteen such triangles, which had the pointed end down near the floor, and the flat part deckside. This vessel, such as it was, had no engine, no turbine, no boiler, nothing. Just a frame made from gleaming stainless steel. Of particular interest were the lift nacelles, which were solid body steel tubes that ran the length of the frame, and connected to the two top points at the top of the triangle, where the deck should be. 

"What is this junk?" Hoppy demanded. "It's an unfinished ship." 

"Now hold on, Hoppin' Mad," Goldshoe said as he raised his hoof to ward off Hoppy and her zapper. "You can build a deck. That's not hard. The nacelles are sealed and don't constantly leak. Sure, there's no cabins, or a galley, or even a shitter, but those things can be built if they're actually needed. As for the open body, we've actually had customers that kept them bare, and then just secured cargo to the frame itself. It's open design allows for easy access. Sure, you gotta secure stuff, 'cause there's no actual place to store it, but it does offer a few advantages." 

Frowning, she whipped out her foreleg and pointed at the skeletal frame. "This is junk." 

"This is our future, Hoppy." Goldshoe's good natured face contorted into something that was almost angry. "Just 'cause you can't see the potential don't mean it ain't there." 

As was so often the case, Sundance took a risk, and he inserted himself into the conversation. "Uh, Hoppy… the way I see it, this is everything you need and nothing that you don't. For a crafty pony such as yourself, you could finish this off and save a fortune." 

"I dunno about this… hmm." She retreated, and with a tilt of her head, glanced up at the gleaming steel frame. 

"It's not a yacht." Good natured once more, Goldshoe offered up a grateful nod to Sundance. "This is meant to do work. It's not meant to live on, but I suppose somepony could turn it into a nice enough home if they wanted to. A hull isn't hard to make, and with this design it gives you a choice as to what sort of hull you can have. You can do a deck or no deck. The rigid affixed nacelles offer a lot of strong lift and stability. My brother, he's rigged up a system of gyros and valves and control gizmos that automatically level the craft in high winds and send electricity to whatever nacelle is needed at the moment to provide lift to level everything out. Try to get that with an old gasbag airship. You can't." 

"If Hoppy doesn't buy one of these, I might." Sundance then immediately corrected himself with the following: "But not today. No money. But my barony is in need of a means of conveyance. I'm sure that something could be cobbled together." 

"Yer a smart one," Goldshoe said to Sundance. 

"I'm actually a magical moron," was Sundance's reply. 

"Er… my condolences, Mister your Lordship. I was almost drowned as a foal. Doctor told my ma it did me some brain damage, but I ain't noticed any such thing. I seem to do just fine. Just a matter of believing in yourself." 

"Goldshoe, how is your ma?" asked Hoppy. 

"She died about a week ago. Dunglung. Doc says it was this Jersey City air that did her in." 

"I'm sorry, Goldshoe. I really am." A warm sincerity almost oozed out of Hoppy, who took a step closer to Goldshoe but then immediately thought better of it. 

"She ain't a-coughin' no more. Better off. My brother, he's starting to get the cough. I seem to be fine. Don't bother me none at all." 

"I am so glad to keep Wort away from the city." Pensive, her brows furrowed with concern, Hoppy shook her head whilst she pranced in place. 

"We earth ponies don't have much worry about dunglung," Goldshoe said to Hoppy. "Wort'd probably be fine. Unicorns and pegasus ponies, they's softer creatures. Not sturdy and solid like us of earth stock. No offense to the present company." 

"None taken," both Hoppy and Sundance said in unison. 

"If you buy one of our bare bones ships, you get a new propulsion system. Brand new. Not worn in yet. My brother and his partner build 'em. And by partner, I don't just mean business partner, I mean partner, 'cause my brother is queer. Ain't nothing wrong with that. I climb through poop chutes and so does he. We're brothers with a lot in common. But the system is completely new and we sell it with a five year warranty. Which we're right proud of. Ain't nothing else on our lot sold with a warranty. Maybe just a warning. Sold as-is. But our own house brand, we back." 

"Alcohol, you say?" asked Hoppy. 

"Princess Celestia ordered the whole of the navy to convert to alcohol from coal," Goldshoe replied. "And if she says that, then that's the future. 'Sides, the sort of pony interested in our bare bones ship, they's farmers, mostly. We have over a dozen orders already. And it's not hard for a farmer to distill their own burny-water. It's easier for a farmer to get booze than coal. Plus, you don't have to pull apart the whole mess twice a year to de-gunk it. Alcohol burns clean." 

"It does," the unicorn mare replied as she began to rub her chin. 

An earth pony hauling a cart loaded with steel tubing trotted by. 

Looking up at the shiny steel frame, Sundance couldn't help but be entranced by it. He was a pony in need of transport, and even though he knew almost nothing about airships, this seemed ideal. It would get work done. Goods could be hauled to Ponyville, Canterlot, or even here, to Fillydelphia. Well, anywhere really, but without a galley, or cabins, or a toilet, the lack of creature comforts might make long trips unpleasant. But he could see the potential of such a craft, and why it might appeal to farmers. It was practical. 

At last, Hoppy said, "I'll think about it." 

"And I will too," Sundance added. "Though I think I'm sold. But I need to talk to a few ponies and I need to scare up some money." 

Goldshoe nodded, and then his good natured face wizened with shrewd cunning. "Actually, I have a proposal for you. Now, I'll need to run this by my brother, so he don't go off and kill me, but I'll give you both a discount if you can help me out with a little personal matter." 

"Alright, spit it out, Bucklebad." As she adopted a defensive posture, Hoppy tapped her left hind hoof against the smooth concrete floor. 

"You only call me that when you think I'm up to no good." 

"Well, are you?" she demanded. 

"Not at the moment," he replied with his ears pinned back in submission. "Swear to Princess Celestia, I'm on the level. Like I said, my brother and I, we can offer a discount. Can't say how much. But you gotta help me. Well, actually, you gotta help my niece—" 

"Sulky needs help?" Hoppy's demeanour underwent a rapid, almost unsettling change. "Is she alright? If somepony hurt Sulky, I'll drown them in a canal." 

"We call that a Jersey City bath," Goldshoe remarked to nopony in particular. 

"What's wrong with Sulky?" Brows furrowed, body twitching, Hoppy grew antsy-in-pantsy, even though she wore nothing at all except for her saddlebags. 

"Oh, she didn't listen to my sister." He shook his head, and then Goldshoe corrected himself. "Her mama. She didn't listen to her mama. You know that Sulky can't fly on account of that case of feather flu went untreated and she never got vaccinated and my sister, well, my sister had Sulky when she was way too young and—" 

Hoppy stomped her hoof against the floor and shouted, "Just spit it out!" 

"Well, Sulky went and had herself one of her clever ideas, and she acted on it, and—" 

"Out with it, you blue footed booby!" 

"Sulky ended up like her mama. She had a brilliant idea to get pregnant, drop out of school, and get on the dole. Well, my sister never ended up on the dole, but you get the idea. Anyhow, she—" 

"Sulky is pregnant," Hoppy said in a voice full of fury and gravel. 

"Well, she didn't have much in the way of prospects," Goldshoe said in response. "She can't fly, so she can't do no delivery work. She can't hardly read 'cause that duck-luck-whatever that messes with her eyes. Now look… if you can get my niece out of this festering dungheap, I'll make it worth your while. The state social worker, that hardass fella, said that Sulky might end up in a shelter for delinquent fillies, and not 'cause she's trouble, but just 'cause there's not much else that can be done with her. Her ma threw her out of the house. She's living with my brother and I for now, but that social worker guy is real upset 'cause my brother is a butt-bandit. Anyhow, the whole thing is probably going to blow up real soon. If you say no, I'll understand. No hard feelings." 

"Sundance?" Hoppy whirled around with astonishing suddenness. "You gotta do me a solid. I mean, I invested a huge chunk of money into your barony, and I know that I'm already getting my return, but you gotta do me a solid." 

"Uh, of course," he replied without thinking. "This is what I do, right? You want me to take home another stray." 

Upon hearing these words, Hoppy's eyes brimmed with both tears and appreciation. 

Then, slowly, Sundance's brain began to piece things together, and he asked, "Delinquent fillies?" 

"Sulky is twelve—" 

"Actually, Hoppy, she just turned thirteen. I got her a cake. Somepony had to do it. I even bought it off the fresh rack, and not the day old shelf." 

Wings sagging, tail drooping, ears limp against his temples, Sundance allowed it all to sink in. When his brain began to suggest all the things his mother might have to say about this, he immediately cut himself off and then made a valiant effort to think about something else. He didn't want to hear his mother's voice right now. Her downright virulent derision was the last thing he needed right now. 

"Look, I know you can't save everypony, Sundance, but I promise, Granny and I will look after her. Sulky is a sweet filly, I swear. She's just… well, she's—" 

"She's thick of mind. Not terribly bright." 

"Goldshoe, she's your niece!" 

"My damn near 'tarded niece with duck-luck-whatever." 

"That's awful to say!" 

"I'm a bit peeved with her at the moment, but I love her very much. And not in that bad uncle way that'll get me hauled off to prison." He cast his gaze to the floor. "That state social worker fella, he says that she might be an unfit mother on account of how she's learnin' disabled. I'm hoping that he's wrong." 

"I'd help, even without the discount." Sundance puffed out his chest a bit, and tucked his drooping wings against his sides as he took on a bolder posture. 

"Well, that makes you a decent fella." Then, he lunged at Hoppy, and when he was nose to nose with her, he said, "Don't let nothing else happen to her, you got me? I don't ask for much out of life. I'm a simple pony with simple needs. I understand septic systems and fluid dynamics. I don't understand my niece. Don't need to understand her to know that I love her. I'm trustin' you, Hop-Hop. You've been in her shoes." 

"I won't force her to go." For some reason, this felt necessary to say, and Sundance said it. "She has to come along willingly. I am many things, but I am not a foalnapper. Twilight Velvet would kill me. I mean that. Literally. I am downright positive that she and Princess Celestia would take turns killing me if I did something that cast myself in a negative light and did harm to Twilight's plans." He swallowed, his mouth went dry, and the voice of his mother still threatened to echo between his ears. 

"He's a bit uptight," Goldshoe remarked. 

"You have no idea," Hoppy replied. "I still need to go to the bank. And to talk with the guys at the greenhouse supply company. We can sort out this airship business on another day, but I'll take one. Talk with Sulky, and tell her that she's coming along with Aunt Hop-Hop." 

"That means the world, Hop-Hop. I can't thank you enough." 

"We're friends, aren't we?" Her nose crinkled, Hoppy took a step back, but her eyes were filled with warm affection. "Almost family. I've been in Sulky's shoes. I'll get her through this. Sundance has an excellent nurse and midwife." 

"Well, that's one less thing to worry about. I'll tell you what, so I will. I'll go talk with Sulky, and maybe take a shower, and when you come back from the greenhouse place and the bank, we'll go have lunch together. I'm buying." He paused for a brief moment, his eyes moistened, and then a quivering smile parted his lips. "Maybe Sulky won't get dunglung. That'd be nice. Maybe she's young enough to recover and get better." 

"Yeah," Hoppy agreed, "that'd be nice. I think she'll be fine." 
> Refined
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bank was dirty, smelly, and quite unlike any other bank that Sundance had visited before. Yet, it was still somehow a bank. Something about it checked all the right boxes for what a bank should be, even if those things were somehow the opposite of what they should have been. There was a lobby of sorts, a waiting area, and a row of bank tellers all secure in their stalls. Instead of fine tile, like glossy, well-polished marble, there was smooth cement. In the middle of the lobby, there was even a fountain—but there was also a pig drinking from it, oinking as it tried to slake its thirst. 

Sundance, a pegasus of storied bloodline and stock, like all of his kind, had certain powers of observation. Some of his kind were brilliant detectives. Others became gamblers that watched for tell-tale signs to tilt the odds in their favour. Some, like Officer Mom, were beat cops that kept an eye out for trouble. But Sundance in particular, he was a pony watcher. Though he did not realise it, he had no way of knowing, he was an expert pony watcher, a specialised trait that had travelled through his bloodline all the way down from the founder, Celestia, who was also an exceptional pony watcher. 

With every cough, Sundance's ears pricked and pivoted about. He watched everypony—everything—that came through the doors. There were what he could only assume were dirty factory workers—they looked the type—and mixed in with these unwashed labourers there were the ponies of wealth. Yes, there was wealth here. Like the pony in the tweed suit with a brass pocketwatch that completely bypassed the line and was escorted into some room in the back. Wealth meant privilege. It meant never having to stand in line and wait, because time was money, and for some ponies, their time was far too valuable to waste. 

Yet, the pony in the fine tweed suit still lived amongst his filthy fellows. 

If one watched ponies long enough and hard enough, one began to see the things that gave rise to stereotypes, the root of half-truths, and commonly held beliefs. Waiting in line, there was an earth pony mare, a wretched, exhausted example, with bags beneath her eyes and droopy ears. Crowded around her were five foals, and a sixth foal hung from a carrier slung around her neck. The youngest appeared to be just a few months old, while the oldest was maybe six or seven. One of the foals, a middler that was maybe three or four, was a confirmed mouth breather. Her vacant expression, shiny, moist lips, and slack jaw confirmed all of the worst stereotypes, and she would no doubt be held up as an example to justify all manner of unpleasantness. 

It occurred to Sundance that ponies lived here. They lived here among the cows trapped in their horrid factory farms. A cascade of thoughts avalanched through Sundance's grey matter, and he came to the conclusion that ponies too, lived in factory farms. The cities were exactly that. A means to house and gather ponies together in vast numbers so that resources might be collected from them. Tiny, cramped apartments that bled them of money. Jobs that consumed their time, talent, and skills. Horrible conditions that caused premature death, sometimes of mercury poisoning. He thought of his grandmother, his mother, and his father. All cows trapped in their stalls, milked for all that they were worth. As for he himself, by sheer luck he'd wandered away from the farm. 

Though it was quite warm in the lobby, a sweaty, moist warmth, he shivered. 

Some thoughts, once had, could not be made to go away. 



 

There was a surprising amount of old gum on the sidewalks. A pony-drawn cab trundled down the narrow street and hardly slowed to take a sharp turn. Sundance sympathised with the passenger that got flung about in the back seat, and then for a short time, he wondered what his passengers thought of him. All kinds of thoughts flitted through his mind, like confused birds gripped by panic. But one thought kept making itself known as it careened between his ears. 

How many farmers does it take to field one soldier? 

It distracted him, disrupted his thoughts, and kept him from reaching any meaningful conclusions. Equestria had a mighty big military. Incomprehensibly huge. Sundance glanced around, taking in all that was around him, and for the first time, he began to wonder at the necessity of all of this. He did so without emotion, without feeling, and he strove to be objective. Yet, try as he might, there was no conclusion to be had, only nauseating uncertainty. 

"Sundance?" 

He paused, then stepped aside so that he wouldn't block traffic on the sidewalk. "Yeah?" 

Hoppy pulled up beside him, leaned in close, perhaps too close for comfort, and asked, "Are you alright?" 

He started to say that he was fine, but before the words even left his mouth he grew anxious about lying. So, he told the truth. What else could he do? "No. I am far from alright." 

"Look… I don't know if the cows actually get turned into leather and pet food." Hoppy's voice was low, enough so that it was difficult to hear her over the sounds of traffic. "You hear stories, you know? Conspiracy theories. You hear things that seem true enough, so they stick. There's always that one pony that has a cousin who has a brother who has a friend whose mother works in some place that saw it all go down." 

"You know a lot about this place," he said to her. 

"I did a lot of business here. Even lived here, for a time. Granny faced a lot of prejudice all over, but she found some measure of acceptance here, of all places. Fancy that. The Goldshoes have been her friends for a long, long time. And that makes them my friends too." 

"But you took to the sky." 

She gestured, shrugged, and then gestured at everything around her, as if that explained everything. Which it rather did. Living down here would be unbearable, and Sundance couldn't even begin to imagine it. The stench of his own barony was practically a wholesome smell compared to this. Plus, there was dunglung, whatever that was. There was also coal soot on the sidewalk and on everything else. As it turned out, there were places worse than Baltimare. 

Yet, it was in this place that Grandmother Growler found some acceptance. 

"We lived in the sky and took ourselves to wherever there was business," Hoppy said in a voice with a bit more volume. "We bought apples in Ponyville and turned them into cider. Bought strawberries from wherever and turned them into wine. We bought grains and hops and such from the best fields that Equestria had to offer, and then sold them wherever we might get the most profit. A lot of our sales were made here. Ponies drink a lot of booze here. I suppose it makes the situation tolerable. I know for certain that Bucklebad drinks a growler of beer every morning for breakfast. We drank a lot of breakfast together, he and I." 

"I never developed the habit." Much to his own surprise, Sundance bared himself to his companion, and he couldn't comprehend why. "I did my job. When I wasn't working, I did my project. Occasionally, I went out thrill seeking and did incredibly dangerous and stupid things that my mother didn't approve of. I guess that was my way of dealing with the pressure. A sort of half-assed suicide attempt. The city seemed so suffocating, you know? I felt so trapped. There was nothing to look forward to. Just work, sleep, eat, crap, work, do something dangerous, and maybe die. But at the end of it all, you just died. Sometimes, I wished the dying part would hurry up. Well, I did before I started my project. School was hard on me. I guess my project saved me. Kept me sane." 

"I understand, Sundance. I really do. I hope you know that I'm not just saying that." 

"Thanks, Hoppy." 

"Now you have a new project," she said to him with sincere warmth as well as unabashed affection. "You have the means to save ponies stuck in that same rut. You've been there, Sundance. You've been down on the bottom with the rest of us. I'm pretty sure that's why you were chosen. It'd be pretty rotten of Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight to try and fix this mess and assign some upper class twit that had no idea what it was like to be us. Somepony that didn't get this." Again, she gestured at everything around her. 

Then, a moment later, she added, "A lot of ponies start projects. In my experience, very few ponies finish what they start. So many projects fall by the wayside. You're a finisher, Sundance. Probably why you were chosen. Me, I started a project too. Named him Wort. If I don't finish, there'll be trouble. Before Wort came along, I had a real hard time finishing what I started. I did. Granny had to nag me. I was an irresponsible ass. But don't tell her that I said that. She'll gloat. But she was right." 

"Hoppy, can I ask a favour?" 

"Sure thing, Sundance." 

"Don't say 'irresponsible ass' around Tarantula or Flax. If they get hurt feelings, there'll be trouble." 

"And this is why you're in charge." Something that was almost a smile crept over Hoppy's face. "We gotta get to the greenhouse supplier…" 



 

As it turned out, the greenhouse factory was identical to pretty much every other building around it. Long north to south, with a canal along one side, and a waterway that flowed into a loading zone inside of the building itself. It had to be as long as a fifty story skyscraper, only laid out on its side. The lobby was pleasant enough, and filled with tiny, intricate models of the greenhouses they had to offer. Everything from classical greenhouses, the sort of thing Sundance envisioned when the word greenhouse was mentioned, and more fantastic models like geodesic domes. 

It was also a remarkably clean space, with very little smell. 

How that was managed mystified Sundance, but he appreciated the miracle. 

"Hoppy, is that you?" A stout green earth pony shoved his way through the door and grinned as he approached. 

"Curly! It's been a while!" 

"It has," he replied. "New fella?" 

"Curly, this is Lord Sundance, of the Sunfire Barony." Then, with a massive smile that revealed molars, she reversed the introduction. "Sundance, this is Curly Kale." 

"How do you do, Curly?" Sundance, who felt a little awkward, did his best to hide it. 

"Nice to meet you," was Curly's polite response. "Ready to claim your greenhouses, Hoppy?" 

"I am," she replied with a bow of her head. "How's business, Curly?" 

"Greenhouse business is booming. The kale business? Not so much. Ponies only want to eat junk food now. Can you believe that some of the ponies have taken to eating cow pellets? I mean, sure… they're nutritionally perfect, and yes, they're cheaper… but there's no taste to them." 

"Well, Curly, there's no flavour to kale, either." 

"Wicked Hoppy…" With the left side of his mouth curled into a sneer, Curly groaned and shook his head at the impertinent remark. 

"I'm new here, so forgive me, but where do ponies grow crops around here?" asked Sundance. 

"Why, indoors of course," Curly, who took interest in Sundance, replied. "I am part owner of a massive factory complex. We grow kale. Lots of it. We grow it in stacked racks, with lamps, and an automated watering system. I can grow eight times as much kale in my factory footprint than in the equivalent of open-air farmland. No wasted water. Everything is clean. Easier to harvest. It's the future." 

Sundance, who disagreed, said nothing. 

"I could have bought a factory here… and didn't," Hoppy remarked. "There's something to be said for open-air farming." 

"But its not as efficient," Curly said to Hoppy with a stern scowl plastered across his face. 

"Maybe so, but it's also not as polluted and smelly." 

"Cow shit makes things grow." His scowl intensified by a magnitude and Curly took on a stiff legged stance. "Most ponies don't know this, but the cow shit industry makes more money than the dairy industry. Just a few years ago, the change happened, and it's been picking up steam ever since. I just invested in a cow shit refinery. The smell of money isn't always sweet. Sometimes, it stinks like cow shit." 

Sundance could not help but ask, "A cow shit refinery?" 

"A magical factory that turns cow shit into gold. We can get fertiliser, chemicals for tanning, fuel oil, and a whole bunch of useful compounds from cow shit. And Jersey City produces a lot of cow shit, let me tell you. It used to be a problem, yes-sirree. But now, every last bit of shit is collected. Hoarded. We've even changed the cow pellets so the cows will shit more efficiently. No more constipation issues, just effortless smooth shits. As it turns out, the eco-maniacal dinguses were right. We were throwing shit away. Precious, valuable shit. That was money just flushed down the shitter." 

"So things are, uh, actually getting cleaned up?" asked Sundance. 

"Slowly. It just took us a while to realise what we were wasting. Already, the air is a little better. Once more refineries go online, the problem will become the solution. I hope." Curly smiled, and then added, "Never underestimate pony ingenuity. We're a species without fingers or thumbs… and just look at what we've done." 

Things weren't as hopeless as they might have first appeared… 

"Hey, Hoppy… you mind telling me where we're sending these greenhouses?" 

"Sunfire Barony," she replied without missing a beat. "Due east of Canterlot by a few hundred miles. Not sure of the exact location. We don't have a post office, so no coordinates. I was able to find it just fine. Just look for the Foal Mountains, and you'll find us in the foothills. Big box canyon. Huge. Enormous. Nothing but open space for hundreds of miles in all directions. Perfect place to raise my son." 

"How is little Wort?" Curly asked. 

"Happy, I think." Hoppy's expression of good-natured cheer turned thoughtful. "Been a real pain in Granny's fuzzy ass. Suddenly, he asks questions about everything. I think it is the new environment. Granny says that he's acting like a kid. I suppose she would know. She thinks he got too bored living on an airship. Knowing how Granny is, she might be right." 

"That old bird is never wrong," Curly said knowingly. 

"I think she's happier too." Deep wrinkles appeared above Hoppy's brows. "I might have been the only one happy to live in the clouds. It was practical, you know. But I'm ready to put down roots. The barony is a bit rough, but I get to be one of the ones who helps to modernise it." 

"Ah, Hoppy… you bring a bit of civilisation and booze everywhere you go." After a long sigh, Curly's head bobbed up and down in a slow, dramatic nod. "We miss you, Hoppy. Don't be a stranger. Take all the time you need, but uh, do try to resume the regular beer shipments. It's hard to get good ale around here. Just swill." 

"Give it time," she replied. "I am about to start producing on a scale that I never could before." 

"Best of luck to you, Hoppy. I'm glad that you found yours. Have you seen the Goldshoes yet?" 

"We landed there. They're watching Sundance's sky truck for him." 

"So you know about Sulky?" he asked in a much lower voice. 

In response, Hoppy bit her lip. 

"A real shame, that whole mess." Everything that could droop on Curly did droop and the stallion's eyes turned sad. "Sulky is a ray of sunshine. Never has a filly been so poorly named. There's nothing sulky about her. It's a real shame that her mind is… soft." 

"She had never-ending colic when she was young. Sickly. Was always sick with something." A sharp, prolonged inhale widened Hoppy's sides; she held it for a short time, her cheeks puffed out, and she rolled her eyes as she exhaled in a short, full huff. "I think one of those fevers did something to her. Maybe the flu that took her wings. I dunno. All I can do is speculate, I don't know nothing about this stuff. We'll be taking Sulky home with us." 

Curly seemed surprised, as evidenced by his gasp. He was quick to recover though, and flashed a sad-happy smile. "That's the best news I heard all day. City ain't good for her. She needs to be out in some pasture somewhere." 

"Thanks again, Curly. It was good to see you." 

"It was great seeing you, Hoppy. I'll make sure that your greenhouses get to you. Give me a week or two. The Goldshoes are currently fixing our only airship, so deliveries are delayed." He turned to face Sundance and said, "And it was nice meeting you. Look after Sulky. I know what she did, but really, she's a good kid. If you need greenhouses, come and talk to me. You'll get a prefered customer discount because you know Hoppy." 

"Thank you," Sundance replied. "Once my finances are sorted, I might take you up on that offer." 

"I'll be buying more as well," Hoppy said. "My credit is thin right now because production is non-existent. But once I can pay in cash, I'll be back." 

Sundance, who had an idea, said nothing, but squirreled his precious idea away for later. 

"Credit or no, we can work out a deal. I need strawberry wine and some ale." 

"We'll talk, I promise. I can't stay long, Curly. We have to be done here and try to get home before the sun sets. Sundance can't fly in the dark." 

"I understand. Later, Hoppy." Then, in a sudden burst of motion, Curly rushed forward and embraced the smaller unicorn mare in a tight hug. 

"I'll stay in touch, I promise," she said as she was squeezed. 

"You do that, Hoppy. Don't be a stranger!" 
> Snorkeling in soup
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hoppy… there's something I'd like to ask you." 

"Yeah, Sundance? Just ask." 

"The barony needs a… well, I suppose we'll call it a 'Minister of Agriculture'. As we grow, and start exporting, we'll need somepony that can manage that. I'm starting to think that some greenhouses will be good for the barony, and you're planning to buy some anyway. We need an airship, which you're planning to buy. So… what if you had the barony's buying power?" 

"Are you kidding me, Sundance?" 

"No," he said after a moment of apprehensive cautiousness. "There'd be paperwork, of course. You'd have to submit forms for spending and such. But you seem to know this area, these ponies, and you have connections. You understand logistics. While you and Curly spoke, I realised that you and I are working towards the same goals, so I thought it might be wise to work towards them together. You need resources to make stuff happen. The barony needs a pony with a plan. So how about it? How about we work together?" 

"That's a lot of responsibility." 

"It is. So is Wort." 

"I need to think for a bit," she said. 

"Take all the time you need," he replied. "This is a big decision. For both of us. I'm starting to assemble a crew of like-minded individuals to help me rule. I can't do all of this on my own. You… today… you've shown that you're capable. You know stuff." 

"I'll give it some thought, Sundance." 

"Thank you," he said, relieved. "Let's go have lunch. I'm starving. Plus, we'll need to leave soonish if we're to make it home before nightfall. Also… I really need a cup of tea…" 



 

"Hoppy!" 

The pony that shouted Hoppy's name looked like a scrawny string bean that had somehow managed to swallow a cannonball. She was thin, too thin, the sort of rail-thinness that caused Sundance to worry about malnutrition. Her wings were visibly stunted, and missing more than a few feathers. There was also the fact that she very much looked like a duck; mostly white all over with a few speckles here and there, and a vivid orange-yellow blotch that covered the entirety of her muzzle. 

Yes, Sundance decided, she rather did appear rather duckish. 

She charged forwards on thin, knobby-kneed stilted legs with all of the grace of an adolescent giraffe on ice. To say that she was at that awkward stage would be kind; her front legs were considerably longer than her hind legs, which somehow heightened the appearance of her rounded, bulging middle. All in all, the way she ran was downright alarming, and Sundance feared that she would pitch forwards onto her face at any second. 

"Sulky Goldshoe! What were you thinking?" 

The sheer ferocity of Hoppy's voice caused the filly to come to a skidding halt, and as Hoppy began to advance on her, she flapped her stunted wings and retreated. That was a full-name address, and Sundance understood the gravity of the situation. It was time to run—which Sulky did once she arrested her forward momentum. 

"Oh no you don't, you moronic little cuss!" Her horn flashed with brilliant glittery light, Hoppy scowled, and then she grabbed Sulky by the tail, which caused the filly to bleat in a rather sheepish manner. 

Sundance was expecting a quack, so the bleat was extra confusing. 

"OW! Owie! Ow! Ow! Ow! I gotta sit on that!" Sulky bleated aloud. "It's tender! Oooweeowie!" 

Now clean, Bucklebad Goldshoe chuckled and watched as his niece was hauled in. Being a good uncle, he even offered some encouragement: "Give her what for, Hoppin' Mad!" 

"Uncle, don't encourage her! She's gonna pull my tail out by the root!" 

"Get over here!" Hoppy shouted, and she gave Sulky's tail a good hard yank, which caused the filly to suddenly reverse direction. Hooves skidding across the ground, Hoppy hauled the bleating filly in, overpowered her, and then put her in a headlock or gave her a hug, it was hard to tell the difference. 

All of Sulky's resistance melted away, and with a great heaving blubbering sob, she clung to Hoppy, who held her. Sundance, quite uncomfortable at this point, turned away and looked at Bucklebad Goldshoe instead. The oddly proportioned earth pony had just showered from the looks of things, and now wore a hat. He was brown—unpleasantly brown given what he was covered in not that long ago—and there was a toilet with blue flames that stood out in sharp contrast on his hip. As far as marks went, Sundance desperately wanted to know the story, but dared not ask. 

"You stupid, stupid filly! Why, I oughta beat your ass with a brush!" 

"Naw, naw, you don't wanna do that! It's tender back there, Aunt Hoppy!" 

"But I oughta!" 

"Well, maybe you oughta, but I'm beggin' ya, please don't!" 

"Give me one good reason!" 

"I ain't got one! Just don't! I'm sufferin' enough!" 

When Sundance dared to look, he saw that Hoppy still had the filly in a headlock-hug. 

"Where is Rubberband?" Hoppy asked in a growl. 

"Oh, my brother won't be joining us, 'cause he's a unicorn and that means he's gotta work. There's a huge backlog of orders. Seeing as how I'm an earth pony, I get time off 'cause I can't do all that unicorn hoodoo stuff that Rubber does." 

"Your brother's name is Rubberband?" asked Sundance. 

"Mama searched the scrapheap for inspiration," Bucklebad replied. "She found a bad buckle, an old rubber band that was all dried out and cracked, and a jar of rosemary spice with no lid." 

"So let me get this straight," Sundance said as he put his brain to work. "Is your sister… Sulky's mother, named Rosemary?" 

Bucklebad Goldshoe started to reply, "Naw—" 

But Sulky cut him off with, "My mama's name is Stinky Jar." 

"Aaahyup, that's true. That's my sister's name. And she thinks her farts don't stink. When she was little and in school, all the foals called her Fart Bottle." 

"Oh." Sundance flexed his diplomatic muscles and somehow remained neutral. Absolutely no reaction could be seen nor found anywhere on his body. He was a statue. A perfect statue, an equine made of lifeless stone. "I see." 

"Ma said our names would give us character, and make us strong enough to face whatever fate life gave to us. She was a wise mare, my mama." 

"I'm certain that she was, Mister Goldshoe." 

"That's kind of you to say, Sundance. But let's be honest… my mama was a hick. And so am I." He flashed his derelict picket fence smile and then added, "Who's ready for lunch? You done killing my niece yet, Hop-Hop?" 

"NO!" 

"Well, hurry up, mare. I gots the hangries. Kickin' shit all morning has done hollowed me out. Sulky, protect ya neck!" 



 

"Hoppy… so you want me to come with you?" For a brief moment, a mere second, Sulky appeared to be a filly far more than she actually was. She was young, vulnerable, and scared. So very scared, and it was plain to see in her wide, staring eyes. "Leave here? Leave my family?" 

There was a sigh that was more of a whinny that caused Sundance's ears to pivot towards the source of the sound, which was Hoppy. She leaned against the rough wooden table, clearly troubled, and she did not look the filly in the eye. The tension was almost too much for Sundance to bear, but he endured in silence, having not said a word since their arrival at the cafe. 

And what a cafe it was. The old brick building had once been a factory. Now, it was a place of beauty and greenery. Water flowed from fountains. The horrendous stench was somehow kept outside. The ceiling and some of the walls were painted blue, and had white fluffy clouds, while pastoral scenes of tender green covered the lower walls. Floating orbs of magical light—very much like the type that Paradox could conjure—drifted about overhead, and cast a warm, soothing glow upon the patrons. 

Jersey City was a wasteland when seen from up above, but there were oases of comfort to be found. There were indoor gardens here, the cafe grew some of its own food and it was on display. Birds flitted about in the rafters, and Sundance could not help but worry about issues of sanitation. Equine ingenuity was everywhere to be seen, and this cafe, once a factory, served as proof that the equine spirit would endure. The city, no matter how bleak, had life. 

"Sulky, I still want to know… what were you thinking?" 

"I ain't good at thinking," Sulky said right away. "Not thinking ahead, anyhow. I tend to live in the moment. When I think too far ahead, I don't see nothing for myself. Nothing at all. Just… dead ends. Which, I guess, is kinda how all this happened. We had a career day at school. And I still ain't got my mark. I got that thing wrong with my eyes that makes letters dance. And let's face it, I'm not the shiniest peanut in the turd. I'm not smart, I ain't pretty, and when I thought about what sort of future was ahead, which was no future at all, I panicked." 

"Sulky—" 

"I ain't strong enough to hustle cows. That stupid feather flu made sure that I'd never be able to fly. I ain't pretty enough to be a high-rent hooker—"

"Sulky!" 

"—which means that some pimp would likely sell my scrawny little ass to the lowest bidder." 

"Sulky Goldshoe, you're too young to be thinking this way!" Hoppy snapped. 

"I know," the filly replied with a well-practiced roll of her eyes. "It don't pay to think at all. I keep telling ponies that." 

With a huff of disgust, Hoppy turned away and furiously chewed her lip. 

Shrugging, Sulky whispered, "It seemed like a good idea at the time." 

"Hoppy, we're not thinkers, we're doers—" 

"Shut up, Goldshoe." 

"—and Sulky, she went out, and well, she do. Uh, she did. I mean to say, she acted." 

"Shut up, Bucklebad." 

"Well, you're takin' it hard—" 

"How else do I take it, exactly? You remember how it was when I had Wort. Now I understand why Granny stayed angry at me. I was an idiot, and so is Sulky." 

"Hoppin' Mad, we Goldshoes aren't the brightest of ponies." 

"No." Hoppy deflated, her ears fell back, and the whole of her face sagged. "But you're good sorts. You were good friends to Granny when she had none. Made her feel welcome. Helped her out. You helped me out." 

"Ma and Pa, they didn't tolerate no ignorant prejudice. I still remember when my brother called me a numbskull… he did it angry. And Pa came after him with a loading strap and tanned his hide. I caught me a few licks too, 'cause I tried to shield my brother. We was raised to know better. When we helped ol' Growler, it was doin,' not sayin'." In the middle of everything he said, Bucklebad's accent thickened like gravy left to cool and congeal on the counter. 

Sulky, now teary, and with her lower lip quivering, said to Hoppy, "I ain't got no skills. Can't do maths. When I get around strangers and I get flusterated, I stutter something awful. On career day, I looked ahead, and I didn't like what I saw. Got scared. And then I did something dumb, I guess." 

"I blame my sister—" 

"Goldshoe, don't start." Holding out her hoof, Hoppy gestured for Bucklebad to stop. 

"It's perfectly acceptable to blame my sister," he said in full defiance of Hoppy's raised hoof. "She got all caught up in that conspiracy stuff in the back of magazines, all about secret changeling mind control in vaccines and such. 'Cause of her and her idiocy, Sulky suffered. Ponies that get vaccinated survive feather flu. And they keep their wings. It's just a time of itchy molting. I wish… I wish that I'd gone behind my sister's back and got Sulky stuck when she was small. But I wasn't bright enough to think about it at the time. Now, Sulky has got to pay for my sister's mistakes." 

"Bucklebad, Sulky needs to pay for her own mistakes. She did this to herself."

"Stinky Jar's dumb choices drove her to this." 

"Sulky… would you like to come home with us?" asked Sundance, who finally felt compelled to speak. 

"I don't see how I has much of a choice," she replied. 

Before he could respond, Sundance swallowed, and he was careful to collect his thoughts. "There's always a choice. You could stay here. If you do, you'll probably have to face the consequences of your actions. But if you come with me, you'll still have to face the consequences of your actions… just different consequences. But if you choose which consequences to face, at least you'll be taking responsibility for your own life, and that's what is important." 

Across the table, Hoppy stared at Sundance with wide, unblinking eyes, as if he'd grown a second head. 

"Well… I… uh… well… um"—Sulky's lips smacked together and she squirmed in her seat—"I ain't good at making choices for myself. I should say that right up front. Especially when I get pressured. Like now. I mean, today." 

"I do think that social worker fella will make that choice for you if you don't," Bucklebad said to his niece. 

"I don't mind that Uncle Rubberband is a butt-bandit," the filly said. "The only thing that bothers me is that he's noisy." 

"Yeah, my brother is a rambunctious go-getter, ain't he. Sounds like a passel of pigs in the bedroom when he and—" 

"Goldshoe… there was a time to stop, and you just blew right past it." 

"Sorry, Hoppy." 

"Can I take my dog? He won't be no trouble, I promise. I got him trained. He listens to me." 

"Dog?" Sundance gave Sulky all of his attention. "Did you train him?" 

"I did," she replied. "He does tricks when I tell him too." 

"So you have a way with animals?" he asked. 

"Well, I don't know about that." 

"She has a way with foals," Hoppy said. "Somehow, she made Wort behave. Sulky is his favourite foalsitter." 

"Well then." Sundance pressed both of his front hooves together and rested them upon the edge of the table. "This is what we work with. What we start with. We take her home, and we get her feeling useful. Once we do that, and she has some confidence, things are bound to get better." 

"I like animals, but that's not much of a career, unless you wrangle cows." 

"Maybe it's not a career here," Sundance agreed. "Though I think it could be. And foalsitting—" 

"Is a good way to make a few bits, but you don't make enough to pay the bills, mister." 

"Back home, we don't have bills." For a short time, Sundance savoured the confused expression on Sulky's face. "We don't mess with bits. The food is free and so is the roof over your head. You're free to do as you please, so long as you contribute." 

"What's the catch?" Eyes now narrowed, Sulky cast a suspicious stare in Sundance's direction. 

"No catch," he was quick to say. "That's the point. There's no catch. You leave the city behind, and you learn to live a different way." 

"If something seems too good to be true, it usually is," Sulky said to Sundance. 

A waitress hustled by with a tray balanced upon her back. 

"Why are you called Goldshoe?" asked Sundance, who changed the subject quite without warning. Why he did it was unknown to him, but it felt right. It was just one of those spur of the moment things that seemed like a good idea at the time. 

Disarmed, so to speak, Sulky scrambled for an answer. She stammered, but only for a second, and then replied, "It's the yellow patches we get. Not all of us get them. A long time ago, we had yellow hooves. Well, some of us. We had golden shoes. But that was a long time ago. I got me my yellow beak." For a moment, she turned duck-lipped with an exaggerated pouty expression that would destroy the career of any supermodel that did it. "My uncle here"— no longer duck-lipped, she pointed at Bucklebad—"his dock is yellow. Given his brown hide, it looks like a kernel of corn stuck in a sun-dried turd. My mother has golden unmentionables, a smear of gold that she shows the world when she's got her tail held high." 

Across the table from Sulky, Bucklebad chortled while Hoppy rolled her eyes. 

"I done heard that Rubberband's got a golden band on his—" 

"Sulky Goldshoe, I will drown you in your soup!" 

"Aunt Hoppy, I ain't ordered soup!" 

"I'll order it for you, you silly filly! Just to drown you in it!" 

"I ain't seen it, I just heard stories!" 

"Don't keep this up unless you have a snorkel, miss!" 

"It's been awhile since anypony cared 'bout what I do," Sulky said, mostly to herself. 

His face turned serious and Bucklebad ceased to chortle. "Sulky, I care about what you do. What are you goin' on about?" 

"You don't scold me, Uncle. You don't notice half the stuff I get up to. I mean, I know you care." She was quick to add in a voice that cracked from raw emotion, "I ain't saying that you don't care, I'm just saying that you let me get away with everything. And though I know I'm gonna regret this later, it's nice to have somepony come down on me and keep me good. It's kind of a relief, I guess you could say. I've done a terrible job of holding myself all accountable like." 

"I'm sorry, Sulky." His eyes fell and Bucklebad Goldshoe's expression turned both sad and disturbed. "Never was no good at that stuff. I don't hold myself accountable either. Are you gonna go with Hoppy?" 

"Yeah, I am," Sulky replied. "She'll do what you can't, Uncle. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, Sulky, be happy that you're getting what you need." Reaching up with one broad foreleg, Bucklebad rubbed his eyes for a short time, sniffled, and when he pulled his foreleg away, there was a smile like a quivery thin-skinned pudding on his face. "When I was a foal, I snuck off and ate a bunch of sweets. Got myself sick. But I was alone, and I didn't have no grown-ups to tell me what to do, and so I ate those sweets until I made myself sick. And then I didn't even want to look at food. When Ma twisted my ear and made me real food, it was a relief and I felt better. But I never told her that. Mercy, no. She would have gloated, 'cause that's what she did. I would've never heard the end of it. A week of squirty bubble guts hollowed me out." 

"Goldshoe, I never knew you were a sentimental type—" 

"Shut up, Hoppy. I'm remembering my Ma. Don't ruin that." 

"Sorry, Bucklebad. Let's just have a nice lunch. It might be the last time that you and Sulky have a meal together for quite some time. Make the most of it." 

"Hoppy… please, I'm beggin'... take good care of my niece. I ain't the best uncle, but it'd ease my mind to know that this time, I did right…"
> The goodest boy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That is not a dog." Somehow, perhaps through some inexplicable miracle, Sundance maintained his outward calm in the face of dangerous absurdity. He was beyond serene, he was Celestial, and were his distant grandmother present, she would see a reflection of herself. His face? Placid. Eyes? Focused. His heart? Pounding. 

The 'dog' in question was a massive two-headed creature larger than a pony. It lay on the ground at the moment, whining and writhing as Hoppy scratched his tummy-tum. Black and grey, the great beast was an immensely shaggy creature made mostly of bristling hairs and slobber. There were a few brown spots here and there, and one head—the right head—had a white spot over the left eye. 

"Romulus! Remus! You've got so big! Who's a good boy!" Hoppy said in a sing-song voice as she scratched at the exposed stomach of the fallen giant with her front hooves. 

"That is not a dog," Sundance said once more. 

"It's the only thing that Sulky's ever been responsible about." Bucklebad drew up alongside Sundance, leaned in close, and then said in a low voice, "She rescued the runt of the litter. His mama rejected him for some reason. Probably on account of how small he was. We here in Jersey City breed 'em here to watch over and to wrangle the cows. Bred to be gentle and protective. Sulky bottle fed this one and she somehow kept him alive. I consider it an accomplishment." 

Sundance swallowed; but nothing was said. 

"When he wants outside, you'd best take him outside," Bucklebad warned in a slow, drawled whisper. "If he pees indoors…" 

"He's my puppy." Sulky, proud in posture, grinned as she turned around to face Sundance. 

The most immediate problem that Sundance saw was that his sky truck was meant to haul two adult ponies in armor. More than that could be crammed in there, but it would be crowded. But now, there was Hoppy, a filly with a rotund middle, and whatever this two-headed monster-dog was. What if it lept out? Or shoved out Hoppy or Sulky? Accidents could happen. Getting the massive slobbery beast home posed a challenge. 

Sulky was leaving everything behind. Everything. Family. Everything familiar. This endless sprawl of brick buildings and canals. There were no houses to be seen from the lofty vantage point of the sky, and Sundance realised after lunch that the ponies that lived here did so in the industrial fortresses that stretched as far as the eye could see. This was all that Sulky knew—and Sundance understood that she was one of the many who would end up in his care. 

First impressions were fickle things. 

"I wish Rubberband was here," Sulky said rather sulkily. 

"I don't know where he went," Bucklebad said to his niece. "He's off working. We barely keep our heads above water, Sulky, and we—" 

"I know," the filly huffed in a foalish manner. "And you took me in. I wanted to thank him. Say goodbye. Both of ya have been so good to me after I was so stupid." 

"We love ya, Sulky. And your mom does too. She'll come around… maybe. Look, Stinky Jar, she got Pa's stubbornness. And she had you at about the same age that you are now. She wanted better for you. Stinky never was no good at dealing with upset. We're immigrants, Sulky. We were born in Equestria, sure, but we came here… to this place. To this city. It's unlike anything we've ever known. A strange land. Well, this is all I've ever known. Uh… what I'm trying to say is, we're starting to establish ourselves. A foal is supposed to grow up and do better than their parents. 

"Ma and Pa gave up a lot so we could have a life here. And Stinky, well, she done messed up, and Ma and Pa came down hard on her. She was supposed to do better than her parents. But she had you. And you, you went and repeated her mistake. Well, I don't think of you as a mistake, Sulky. I don't know what I'm trying to say or what I'm getting at. But things will work out, Sulky Goldshoe. You'll go off to this place, and you'll be an immigrant too… in a way… I reckon. But you're returning to our roots, Sulky. Go be a hick in the woods, Sulky. Be a bit of dandelion fluff that goes off in the wind to find new pasture. I don't think the concrete and brick suits you, Niece." 

"You're a sentimental softie, Goldshoe—" 

"Shut up, Hop-Hop!" 

"She's right, you know—" 

"You shut up too, Sulky!" 

"Goodbye, Uncle. I don't know if I'll ever be back." 

"Hoppy will bring you back." There was an audible, painful swallow from Bucklebad. "And if she don't, then I'll come to you. We were nomads, once. Went to where the work was. From farm to farm, place to place. I figure I have it in me to travel, if I get a mind to." 

"If you don't mind me asking"—it felt as though he was intruding upon a private moment and Sundance had to rein in his awkwardness so that his curiousity might be satisfied—"what brought your parents here?" 

"The work was here," Bucklebad replied right away. "Well, they was told that. A better life in the city. One generation of hardship, followed by an endless parade of prosperity. I'm still waiting on that parade. This here scrapyard is filled with old dead dreams. Old dead airships. Old machines that gave up and quit and took their owner's dreams with them. These are bodies, and this is a morgue." The earth pony made an expansive sweeping gesture at everything around him. 

Suddenly solemn, Sundance nodded. 

The dog rolled over, got his paws beneath himself, and sat up. 

"The city is like this scrapyard," Bucklebad said in a near whisper. "A place where trash is thrown away and forgotten. We all came here and got discarded. Dumped. Some of us made a life for ourselves, but most of us… most of us, we didn't. And just like this here old scrapyard, if you go and have a look around, you'll still see the bodies left to rot away. My brother and I, we'll stick it out, even if it means making a life with the bones of the dead." 

For every pony that found success in the city, how many met with failure? 

There was success to be found here. Equestria was a nation of success stories. Either by luck, or hard work, a combination of the two. While everypony celebrated these successes, not much was done about the failures. Twilight, the compassionate pony that she was, dared to look in the scrapyard to see what might be salvaged. For a brief, profound moment, Sundance understood his place in the world, his part in things, and this flash of insight left him both humbled and inspired. 

He was saving Sulky before she rusted and rotted away, while she was still young and full of promise. 

"We should be going," he said, his throat tight. "Might already be too late. We'll be racing the sun as it heads west. Goodbye, Bucklebad Goldshoe… it really was great to meet you. We'll meet again soon, and I am proud to consider you my friend…" 



 

Distorted shadows stretched eastwards, like long, tenebrous fingers that grasped at the dying light. It wasn't quite time to panic, not yet, but panic, very much like the fading sun, was on the horizon. An uncooperative headwind threw everything it had against him, and Sundance feared that he would not make it home before darkness blanketed the land and put it to bed. If the darkness failed to be his undoing, exhaustion certainly would. 

He faced a tough choice; put down now while there was still light enough to see, and then spend a night in the wilds, or keep going towards what he believed was the direction home. Whatever decision he made, he'd have to do it soon, because few things moved at the speed of dark. Behind him were the first twinkling stars of the night, ahead of him was a blazing sunset that was rapidly fading, and below him were mountains, trees, and no-doubt dangerous wilderness filled with nighttime predators. 

Surveying the terrain below him, he doubted that he had a proper place to land. There were canyons, valleys, crags, vast woods, all of it inhospitable in the fading light. He'd lingered too long in Jersey City. Were he a more responsible pony, he might have hurried himself and his passengers along. Or maybe left the dog behind. Now, as he raced towards the retreating light, he thought of all the things he might have or should have done differently. 

Such was the way of things. 

A landing was not possible, he determined. 

But making it home seemed impossible. 

As a pegasus of the day, he needed his eyes to navigate. He needed landmarks and familiar territory. His own lands were not yet familiar to him, mostly because there was so much land to become acquainted with. Home was somewhere ahead—maybe. Was it leftward, or rightward? With the headwind battering him, how far had he veered off course? Gritting his teeth, he demanded more from his sweaty body that was drenched in a foamy lather.

And then, he saw it. Off in the distance, somewhat to his right. A fiery orange glow. It was light. Something blazed. Light was hope. As he veered towards the light, he squinted, and though it strained his eyes terribly, he could just make out the silhouette of a tower, and atop of that, there was the hopeful inferno. When he realised where he was, and what he was looking at, he half-laughed, half-sobbed with relief. Somepony had thought to light a beacon to guide him home. The tower was the immense structure that the changelings had constructed. 

It was a long ways away, but he would make it.



 

Like a moth beckoned to a flame, Sundance was drawn to the beacon, and with it, safety. The runway was lit on both sides with torches and mere seconds before he touched down he worried about setting his wings on fire. As with so many other landings, this one too, was exciting. Exhaustion attempted to cripple him, and sapped his wings of strength. The sky truck came down hard with a bouncy bump that caused the metal to creak and all four passengers cried out. 

Romulus and Remus counted for two. 

When the second bump happened, and was far, far worse than the first, somepony screamed. It might've been Sulky, or the terror might have been such that Hoppy's voice cracked and she sounded like a frightened filly. Sundance reversed his wings—he put the bottom sides forwards and began to flap like a mad pony—and he braced his legs for their reunion with the ground. The impact was such that all of his hooves stung as though they were assaulted by bees. His frogs would be bruised, no doubt. When he began to veer left, into the flaming torches, he made every effort to flap himself rightward. 

Then, he saw Corduroy. 

There she was, a beacon unto herself. Tall. Majestic. Though not on fire—he felt this was important. She was right ahead of him, fearless, her face kind, her eyes glittering with dogged determination. As he went skidding and bouncing past, she reached out with one paw, flexed her paw-fingers, and then grabbed the sky truck with a firm grip. Sundance's spine threatened to go shooting out of his mouth from the sudden stop, it felt as though each of his ribs accordioned against one another, and his kidneys danced a ferocious fandango with his lungs. It felt as though his harness would cut him in half, or maybe quarters, and an involuntary whinny caused by the strain escaped. 

He might have had a harsh physics poot at some point… 

"That's quite some landing," Corduroy remarked with casual nonchalance. 

"Anything you can walk away from," Sundance gasped in return as his sides began to heave. 

Then, without warning, came chaos. 

A high pitched voice cried out, "Sulky!" 

The sky truck shivered and creaked as its passengers bailed. Sulky was barely even out of the cart when a small colt cannonballed into her and took her down to the grass. She laughed, not a funny ha-ha laugh, but the relieved laugh that comes after intense bowel-liquidising terror. Hoppy jumped out of the cart, landed, wobbled, swayed from side to side, and then fell over into the cool grass, where she lay, also laughing. Romulus and Remus jumped out with a stereophonic woof, and then began to run zig-zag as the two heads tried to sniff everything all at once. 

"It was Pluck who had us light a fire on top of the new tower," Corduroy said. "He got the idea from a Daring Do book. The kid wasn't in charge, but he told us what to do, and we listened. Smart kid. Good head on his shoulders." 

Sundance wanted to respond, there was so much that he wanted to say, but all he could do was pant. His innards ached, his tender frogs begged for relief, and his parched throat wanted water or some other soothing, quenching liquid. Terrible side-stitches wracked his body as his kidneys crawled home after their night on the town and the back alleys of his intestines rumbled as if the trash wagon rolled by. 

"You brought home a two-fer," Corduroy said knowingly. 

He managed a faint nod of agreement. 

Then, he felt a heavy paw upon his head. First, his mane got tousled, and then came the heavy pat, which bounced his brain around inside his skull. There was something reassuring, wholesome, and good about this. It was meaningful when your best dog friend petted you. There was no more satisfying reminder that one had done right than a good dog letting you know that you were a good pony. It caused Sundance's limp, sodden tail to wag from side to side. 

More than anything else though, it felt good to be home… 
> A moment in the sun
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A troubled Sundance awoke, trembling and panting inside of his sleeping box. The gentle tug of the coming dawn did not comfort him, it did not soothe him in the slightest. For a short time, he lingered there in the perfect darkness of his private nest, which was far too large for just one pony and sometimes emphasised his loneliness. After he rolled over, he had to disentangle himself from his blankets, and then while squinting to protect his eyes, he pushed open the door. 

Only to find a rather curious Litany just outside of his box, staring at him with eyes like luminous pools of liquified mystery. He didn't mean to scream—it just sort of slipped out—and the sound of her laughter dispelled what was left of his residual terror. She stared at him, and he at her. Something about her hypnotic gaze compelled him to come out, to continue, to bravely face what would soon be the day. 

"As you bring more outsiders here, to this place, you bring shadows with you," Litany said to him as he clambered out of his sleeping box. "You bring their fears, their troubles, the dark things that haunt them. Yet, for reasons unknown to me, those things are very weak here. I spent the night studying the various magical emanations, the flow and ebb of currents as you dreamt. This place has its own powerful connection to the dreamscape, and its own influence upon dreamers. Mistress Luna, the Night Lady, she will want to know of this development. If a thing can influence dreams, that suggests a form of intelligence." 

"Good morning to you too," Sundance said with wry wit to the delightfully creepy young mare in his bedroom. 

"Tragic… the magic dissipates." Litany seemed more annoyed than anything, if her sudden frown was anything to go by. "I can't even begin to understand what I am studying. But it comes from the land itself… and from what you and yours call Grandmother Oak." 

"Is it dangerous?" Sundance managed to ask before a yawn inflicted its tyranny upon him. 

"I don't know," Litany replied with a shake of her head. "I am dealing with an utterly alien intelligence. What whims it might have are unknown to me. It is focused on you, and others. Well, it has tendrils connecting to all who live here, even me, but some of those connections are much stronger. Like Corduroy. And Paradox. And you, of course. Do cover your mouth when you yawn. I'll not have it rain upon me because of random gleeking. Intolerable." 

"Will I wake up and regularly find you in my bedroom, watching me as I sleep?" 

"That sentence is atrocious," Litany said matter-of-factly. "It defies itself." 

Again, Sundance yawned, but this time, he covered his mouth with his foreleg. 

"There is nothing left to study," Litany announced. "I shall be taking my leave of you. Have a pleasant day, Lord Sundance." 

He understood that it was futile to try to get her to stay—she was a stubborn species, one so-named for its uncompromising nature—so he watched in silence as she departed. She moved with a hurried sense of purpose, her armor clanked softly as she made her way to the door, and she left without another word said. He yawned once more, did nothing to cover his mouth, and then decided that he needed to release the flood. He had territory to mark. Sure, it was a barbaric practice, but it was oh-so satisfying. If he did such a thing in the city, he'd likely be arrested. Officer Mom would label him as a public menace. 

But here, in this place, far from civilisation… he was the one in charge. 



 

Breakfast was served with a side of new faces. As it turned out, Twilight Velvet offered delivery service, only it had happened while Sundance was away in Jersey City. He had been far too tired to properly meet with them last night, and Hollyhock didn't want them worked up just before bed. At some point, somehow, he would have to make peace with the fact that stuff happened while he was away, which was difficult for him to come to terms with. 

Freshly washed and prepared for the day, the newest residents joined him for breakfast. 

Mbali was rather smallish, young, somewhat quiet, more than a bit shy, and given to smiling. She was also a zebra, whose stripes were a faded blue-grey. Her mane and tail were dreadlocked, all of which bounced and wiggled with every movement of her head. Sundance found her quite adorable in some unknown exotic way. Even with her shyness, she had a certain infectious joy about her, a resilient happiness that blazed like a flame that would not be extinguished. 

The other was Mytilene, or Mighty, who happened to be a minotaur calf. Though quite young, she was a minotaur, which meant that she was impressively large—a little taller than Bonk and Runt. And she would only get bigger with the passage of time. She had beefy hands and her arms had broad muscles. Stubby black horns sprouted from her scalp. Tufts of unruly brown hair stood up on her head, and her body was white with smooth black spots. The minotaur calf was boisterous, loud, and rather gentle, all things considered. 

"I wanted to say that I am sorry for last night. After my trip, I was very, very tired." 

"I was tired too," Mytilene replied. "It was a long day for me and Mbali." 

"Yes." Between words, Sundance sniffed at his oatmeal. "You brought your zebra friend with you." 

"I refused to come without her." Reaching over, Mytilene patted the much smaller zebra filly on the neck. "Princess Twilight said that friends stick together, so I took a stand and challenged all-comers with heated battle!" 

Mbali giggled, a soft, subdued sound. 

"But I lacked a mighty warrior's weapon, so I had no choice but to brandish a spoon!" 

Brandish? 

"I want to be a soldier some day," the minotaur calf continued. "And I want to build impressive monuments so that I might protect them. To build and protect, that is what is best in life!" 

"So you like building?" asked Sundance. 

"Building is in my blood," Mytilene replied. "Minotaurs build. It is what we do when we're not fighting. My hammering could be heard all over the city, I'm sure of it. I tried very hard to hammer as loud as bovinely possible. The mightiest of hammer-blows echoed between the buildings while I built fortified domiciles for the local birds. I think the ponies will miss the music of my hammer now that I am gone. If you give me a hammer, I shall make the sweetest music for you." 

"You know what," Sundance began, "I think we can scare up a hammer for you." 

He found himself mystified by their friendship. One was loud, and might even be considered obnoxious by many, while the other was soft, quiet, and unassuming. Yet, friendship happened and made for the oddest pairings. What might others think of Sundance's own friendships? When he thought of Corduroy, he was overcome with warm-fuzzies. These two came as a pair, and he was thankful that they were kept together. Surely their friendship would benefit the barony in some way. 

"You want to tell me about yourself?" Sundance asked Mbali. 

The zebra filly shook her head from side to side while saying, "No." 

"Well"—he sighed this word—"that's fine. You and Litany have something in common." 

"Mbali got teased a lot, and put down, and she was the only zebra in the place, and she got teased about her mane, and there were sissy tail-tuggers, and she got bullied, and then I came along and put a stop to that. Bullies get cowed." As she spoke, Mytilene flexed her big, beefy muscles and cracked her hard-edged knuckles. "She'll open up. Eventually. Until then, it's best to leave her be." 

It was at that moment that Sundance decided that he liked Mytilene. "So then, tell me about yourself…" 



 

It was a lazy morning and Sundance had himself a well-deserved bit of rest in the sun. His back ached something awful; he'd first injured it during the bunny bombings and then things had become so busy that he never had a moment for some proper rest. But now, he remedied that. He lay sprawled on the sun-kissed stone of the waterfall ledge, listening to the roar of falling water, and watching the hustle-bustle down below. 

The changelings were busy proving their worth; every few minutes, a squadron of them brought over a log recovered from the beaver pond. These logs were placed atop a bed of stones and gravel, and it was hoped that they would be dried out for the coming winter. Firewood was a necessity, and something that everypony worried about. The dome homes were supposed to be secure from winter, and they might very well be; but it truly was better to be safe than sorry. Beyond that, there was little to do here in the winter, Sundance had been told, other than just watching the fire. 

This needed to change. Though how he might change it was unknown to him. Sundance knew and understood that boredom remained a very real problem here, and this was the summer when there was much to be done. Come winter, when there was nothing to do but wait the winter out, the boredom might become deadly. He'd seen enough movies and read enough pulpy horror novels to know the danger of being isolated in the winter with nothing to do. 

Sundance worried about the winter, and for good reason. He'd been told that in the autumn, it would drop below freezing one day, and then stay that way until the spring thaw. Cold air currents would sink down from the howling peaks of the mountains, and temperatures would plunge far below zero. And they would stay sub-zero for several months. With temperatures that cold, Sundance wondered how they would bathe, because surely the water in the tower would freeze. He feared that his inexperience might be a detriment, a cause of suffering for the others. 

Winter would surely test him. 

But for now, it was summertime, and the living was easy. 



 

"You've done something right here." 

The gravelly sound of Flicker's voice caused Sundance's ears to rise. 

"Should you be out of bed?" Try as he might, Sundance could not find anything on Flicker's face that revealed pain. It was every bit awe-inspiring as it was terrifying. "You had gashes with bone visible. If you've snuck out, Corduroy is going to be very cross." 

"I have her permission to get a little sun. My wounds have closed, for the most part. I'm on the mend." 

"How is that possible?" asked Sundance. "It's only been… days. How?" 

"Like you, I'm connected to something bigger. Something beyond my understanding." Scowling, but not from pain, Flicker eased himself down upon the sun-kissed stone, let go a relieved sigh, and then rolled over to lay on his side. "Any idiot can die for his cause… I'm stuck with living for mine." 

"I don't understand." Casting a sidelong glance, Sundance studied the stallion that lay in relaxed repose beside him. "But I don't understand what is happening to me, either. Apparently I've got memories not my own. Litany isn't much help in clearing things up, either." 

There was a low, husky chuckle from Flicker, and then he said, "I don't think it's important that we understand, only that we do. That we act. We're puppets, Sundance. Our strings lead to bigger things. Things beyond us. Things perhaps beyond Princess Celestia. She might very well be a puppet as well, though she might have more awareness and understanding of her strings than we do. Though, I fear that her connections might soon be severed." 

"What do you mean, Flicker?" 

There was a long silence from the injured unicorn that showed no sign of pain. After this silence stretched on to the point of near-awkwardness, at last he spoke: "Princess Celestia's magic is fading. It's why it is so important that we do our part, Sundance." 

"Fading?" 

"Perhaps fading is the wrong word," Flicker said in a low whisper. "Every day,  she has to wrestle with things unseen to maintain control of the sun, the moon, and the various celestial bodies. The machinery of existence. What remains of our galaxy and all the bits of celestial clockwork that influence us and allows life to continue. Every day, she has to fight a little bit harder, and this means that she has less and less magic for other things. All the hidden and unknown things she does that keeps us safe and protected." 

"I… don't understand." 

"You know what, Sundance… I don't either. And that scares me. I can barely comprehend this mess. Piper has a better grasp on what is going on. Me? I just do my part. When I feel the tug of the strings, I jump." 

"But… what is she giving up, exactly?" asked Sundance. 

"Well, the tides have been acting up lately. They've become highly irregular. This, in turn, has led to an increase in feral storms. Which do considerable damage and bring harm to Equestria's crops. Just think, Sundance. For a thousand years, Princess Celestia ruled alone, and the tides ran like clockwork. You could set your watch to them, and ponies did. Now, Princess Celestia has Princess Luna, and even with the both of them together, as powerful as they are, the tides have become irregular. As far as signs go, this one does not bode well." 

"Oh… oh… I still don't understand, but that sounds… alarming." Now silent, Sundance allowed the dreadful words to sink in and settle into his mind. 

"Which is why what you're doing here is so important, Sundance. One less thing for Princess Celestia to worry about. Which means she can focus more of her attention on the bigger problems, like maintaining control of the sun, the moon, and everything else. She's put Princess Twilight in charge of Equestria. And you… you're helping Princess Twilight to sort out the future. Others also do their part. I do my part. If we all do our part, and do what needs done, Princess Celestia can do her part without distractions, and we'll all survive this." 

At the moment, Sundance felt small and insecure, almost foalish. 

"I fight Contagion," Flicker said, his voice dry and grating. "He's a monster given power with disease and pollution. He feeds on despair and hopelessness. Our society, and pretty much everything about it, feeds him and gives him strength. I can't beat Contagion through conventional means. While I can battle his minions and rout his armies, I can't actually do much to hurt him. But you can. We're fighting the same enemy, Sundance. You just don't know it yet. Maybe that's why I sponsored you. I don't know. I can't even begin to understand the fickle workings of fate. While I battle his armies, you're chipping away at what gives him strength… in very much the same way our enemies slowly sap Princess Celestia's strength. We're fighting a long war, Sundance." 

"Can we win?" asked Sundance. 

"Of course," Flicker replied without hesitation. "We're the good guys. It's in our nature to win." 

"I'm not so sure that just being the good guys is enough to see us through." 

"It's how we're good," Flicker said, explaining himself. "It is the very things that make us good. Our tenacity. Our wits. Our dedication to our causes. We believe in virtue, in honour, and we make sacrifices. All of the actions that make us noble, that is why we'll win. I have seen the enemy, and he is without virtue. He lacks conviction. They are a cowardly lot, held to service through terror and coercion." 

Though he said nothing, Sundance wasn't so sure that Flicker was right. 

"We're the good guys because we don't know how to stop fighting. And that's why we'll win." 
> Big apples
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

School was in session. This felt like a major accomplishment for Sundance, who had some mixed feelings about school being in session during summer. He also had some reservations about the age differences; there were some wee ones who were only just starting to learn, and a number of older students well-into advanced subjects. Beyond that, there were a few old-timers present. While Sundance didn't want to discourage them, he did worry that they might take up time and resources intended for the young. 

But for now, he intended to allow things to play out. 

"This is Equestria," Puddle Jumper said as he pointed to a detailed map with his extended wing. "You live in Central Equestria. Right about… here." He touched the map with his extended primary. "This barony is part of the Clock Face Fiefdoms, and living here is pretty special. There is much history to be learned, and we'll be going over that just a little bit at a time. Not too much at once, because I don't want you overwhelmed. 

"Central Equestria, our heartland, exists beneath what is known as the Unification Standard. Which means we are a collection of fiefdoms, demesnes, and provinces that exist as a unified whole beneath the Crown. Central Equestria is wholly different from the cities that surround us on the coasts, and those to the north and south as well. 

"Those cities are part of Equestria, but they are city states. They are their own sovereign entity, are by and large self-governed, but  agree to remain with Equestria as part of a collective. So far, our union has held together, but that seems in danger now, more so than ever. Should these cities choose to break away, Equestria would be a very different place. For now, the bonds of harmony and unity continue to hold." 

After a brief pause, Puddle Jumper pointed to a mountain in the middle of the map, one located just north of Ponyville. "This is Canterlot, our capital. It wasn't always our capital. This place, where you live right now, was once our capital. There is also Everfree County, with the Castle of the Two Sisters, which also served as our nation's capital, the central seat of governance. Capitals move with time and politics. Like right now, many ponies have demanded that the capital be moved to a more relevant city, such as one of our coastal city-states. But nopony can agree which one, and none of them have offered to surrender their city to the control and influence of the Crown." 

A bit winded, and after some time was spent catching his breath, he asked, "Are there any questions?" 

It was at this moment that Sundance decided to duck out; he was quite satisfied with Puddle Jumper as a teacher. Things would surely sort themselves out with time, and more teachers would come. The little ones seemed engaged, and none of them showed signs of being particularly bored, or even disinterested. A part of him wanted to stay and enjoy the lesson, but there was much to do. Things like paperwork awaited him, and plenty of other tasks that he needed to get ahead on. 

So it was with no small amount of regret that Sundance excused himself from class. 



 

"That's a big apple," Hennessy remarked as he squinted southward. 

"It is," Sundance agreed, as he too peered in a southerly direction. 

"Not as big as my apples—" 

"Shut up, Flicker. You want to compare apple sizes?" 

"It's not fair. You're an earth pony, Hennessy." 

Fighting the urge to chortle, Sundance watched as the enormous apple drifted closer. It wasn't every day that one saw a gargantuapple flying through the sky. Big, red, and with a bright green stem. To say that it was surreal would be an understatement. In all of his life, Sundance had never seen anything quite like this. Sure, he'd seen hot air balloons before, but never one made to look like an apple. It was a sight meant to be savoured. 

"I think it's coming right at us," Flicker said. 

"It is," Hennessy agreed. "There's a pegasus pulling it." 

"I can't see a pegasus." 

"I can, Flicky." 

Try as he might, Sundance couldn't see a pegasus either. 

"I've seen some weird things," Flicker said in what sounded like a low, casual growl. "Spider hags." He shivered violently, then groaned. "Old rotting swamp gods. Vampires. Monsters escaped from the realm of dreams. I've watched as a brain exploded out of its skull, grew legs, and then scurried away, dragging its eyeballs behind it. I have a pretty long list. But I've never seen a flying apple." 

"Well, now you have, Flicky." Hennessy's eyes turned into paper-thin slits and he concentrated for a short time before he said, "I think they're in some trouble. Wind is blowing southward. Sundance, you should go check up on them and see if they need assistance." 

"Right." His wings snapped out from his sides, and Sundance very nearly bowled Hennessy over. "On it!" 

Then, without another word, he was off. 



 

As Sundance made his swift approach, he assessed the situation. The apple was a hot air balloon; he could see the fire burning quite clearly. Beneath the balloonified apple was a wagon of some sort, with the wheels still intact. This makeshift contraption was pulled by a rather pregnant pegasus, who strained and tugged against the rope that bound her. In the wagon was a unicorn stallion, an earth pony mare, and one pegasus filly who appeared to be rather distressed. 

The wind was being a real jerk, blowing south at a good clip, and way up here it was a fair bit worse than down at barony level. Wicked wind caused the flames to sputter and flutter, and the portly pregnant pegasus mare fought for every inch. She was sweaty, soaked, and obviously exhausted. But she was also fierce and determined, as pegasus ponies tended to be. Even as he swooped in to rescue her, Sundance found himself admiring her. 

And then, he was not alone. Express Delivery blew right past him, and he was forced to veer away from her powerful wake. The 'express' part of her name held true; she was faster than him by far, but strength and speed were two very different things. Sundance closed the distance, his wings pumping, and he swooped in to grab the rope. As he did so, he noticed that the pregnant mare wasn't just fighting to pull the balloon, she was fighting just to stay in the air. 

She was tied tight with rope though. 

"Get back in the wagon," Sundance commanded. "Hurry, before you fall. You've done enough." 

"The rope's not long enough," the panting pegasus mare wheezed in response. "I have to stay out so the rope can be pulled." 

"Untie it!" Express Delivery shouted as the balloon began to drift south with the wind. 

The unicorn's horn began to glow, and so too did the knots, but they didn't budge. Soaked with sweat, the drenched rope refused to release, and Sundance began swearing beneath his breath. If the mare got into the wagon, the length of rope would be effectively halved, and if he and Express Delivery pulled on it, they might very well pull the poor mare right back out of the wagon. It was quite a dilemma, and Sundance hadn't a clue of how to solve it. 

"Rope is swollen and wet!" Express Delivery flitted to and fro, all while she waved her forelegs in every conceivable direction. "Hey… we got company!" 

With an especially powerful flap of his right wing, Sundance brought himself around to face barony-ward. What he saw both shocked and relieved him. Gerard soared at incredible speeds, born on an updraft and assisted by a pushy tail wind. Sundance reached out, grabbed the struggling mare by her foreleg, pulled her close, and was so very relieved when Express Delivery grabbed the other foreleg. It wouldn't take Gerard long to get here, and Sundance was fine with the balloon being blown south. They would recover every bit of distance lost soon enough, but for now, the mare needed a breather. 

The knots wouldn't stand a chance against griffon claws. 



 

"Thank you, kindly," the unicorn said as the heroic trio battled the headwind to bring the balloonified apple to safety. "My name is Zipzap Clover. The pegasus you saved, that's my wife, Haboob. She's from Saddle Arabia. My other wife is this pretty earth pony, her name is Pickled Apple. And this is my daughter, Cork. So named because of how her big head came shooting out of her mother's—" 

"Daddy! Bad Daddy!" 

"We're thankful for your help, strangers!" 

"Think nothing of it," Sundance replied. "My companions are Express Delivery and Gerard. I'm Sundance—" 

"Say, we flew all the way up from Appleloosa to meet ya!" Pickled Apple shouted when Sundance introduced himself. 

All that Sundance could think about was poor Haboob having to pull her family all this way. It was a long way to Appleloosa, and while Sundance could make it there in a day's flight, he doubted he could do the same while dragging a balloon behind him. The sweaty mare must be made of iron, he concluded. Out at the front of the rope, Sundance had to really put his wings into it just to make forward progress. Behind him, Express Delivery and Gerard grunted as they too, gave it all they had. 

"Did you get excused from school?" Sundance somehow managed to ask. 

"You're worried about that now?" was the griffon's reply. 

"I'll always be worried about your schooling," Sundance responded between hot huffs. 

"Hennessy came and got me," the young griffon explained. "Said you were in trouble." 

"Uh, we have a new problem!" Pickled Apple's voice was almost a panicked shout as she banged on the metal canister beneath the flame. The sound it made was alarmingly hollow. "We're running on fumes! Fumes! Tank's empty! Got no more booze to burn!" 

"Pickle, did you—" 

"No, Zipzap, I didn't drink it, ya horny boneheaded cuss!" 

"We're all going to die!" 

"No, Corky, only those of us who can't fly," Zipzap said to his daughter. 

"Flames just went out. We might have enough hot air to make it, but I think the balloon is leaker than a sieve." Behind Sundance, Pickled Apple studied the balloon above her with a critical eye. "Haboob, you and Corky get on out! Take Zipzap with you! Don't argue! Then come back and get me. I'm gonna kick this canister a few times and see if I can scare out a bit more flame." 

There was trouble, alright; Sundance could feel the balloon dragging him down in slow motion, a crisis that moved at the speed of molasses. It was sinking, but in a manageable way. Behind him, he could hear the ripple and roar of slack fabric in the wind. They would never make it to the barony, but that was fine. What was important now was to somehow ensure the wagon had a soft landing, and that the wheels weren't damaged. There was a lot of stuff packed up in the wagon, probably everything this family owned, precious things that would be missed if destroyed or damaged. 

"Let the wind take us," Sundance commanded while he began to hover in place. "Stop fighting the wind. Let it help us. We'll drift down like a leaf on the breeze. Gerard! Go help the family down to the ground. Can you do that?" 

"Yeah, probably. But I'm feeling kinda queasy—" 

"I know," Sundance said as his worst fears were confirmed. "But you'll be fine. Today, you're a hero. Now go be one!" 



 

It wasn't the worst crisis. Truth be told, it was barely a crisis at all. Beyond a few tense moments, and deep concerns over a pregnant mare, there was hardly anything to be out of sorts about. Everything appeared to be fine. The wagon and its wheels showed no signs of damage, not even a little, though the landing was just a little hard due to the wind. Just as suspected, the balloon was indeed torn, and Cork checked out the spot where the stitches had failed. 

The bigger problem that Sundance saw was that there was no road. That was something of an issue. While the plains appeared rather flat from up above, they were strewn with rubble, broken stones, and not one inch was level ground. The rough terrain posed as much danger to the wagon's wheels as the hard landing did. Getting everything home would be a difficult task, though not impossible. Help was already on the way, a whole contingent of able-bodied ponies and do-gooders. 

"That got exciting," Zipzap said with a smile. 

"It was smooth sailing from Appleloosa to Ponyville, but once we passed over the Everfree, the winds shifted and tried to blow us south." Haboob's voice was nasal, and especially abrasive. "Eh, still… the trip was made in days. By land, who knows how long?" She shrugged, waggled her wings, and then pressed herself up against Pickled Apple. 

Sundance asked the question. It was the question. The all important question. "So, what made you come here?" Then he asked, "Why take this dangerous journey? And what's with the balloon? What can I help you do? What do you hope to accomplish now that you're here?" 

"Appleloosa's nice," Pickled Apple began, "but it's established. The homesteader's era is over. All the best land has been taken. Now land is expensive, and while we had a good life there, we wanted something better." 

Zipzap Clover nodded. "We wanted to make something for ourselves." 

"We hoped to start a new clan," Haboob said whilst she brushed off Pickled Apple's neck with her wing. "I had a good job at the telegram dispatch office. It paid well for what it was. But I was a clerk. A delivery pony. The future promised nothing beyond that." 

"My fellow Apples had themselves a good life carved out in Appleloosa. And my life was spent making their lives better." Pickled Apple half-scowled, half-smiled. "It wasn't so bad, helping out family. We had everything we needed and we were treated well. But… we was the help. And that ground down on my last nerve in a fierce way. I wanted my own business, but there was no business to be had. Didn't feel right competing against family." 

"I just followed my wives," Zipzap said with a nod. 

"Wait…" Inspired, Sundance held up his hoof. "Can you operate a telegraph?" 

"I can," Haboob replied. "But I mostly did delivery." She waved her wings about and grazed Pickled Apple's ear, which caused the earth pony mare to giggle. "I wasn't supposed to sit in the chair, because I had wings. My time was better spent out doing deliveries." 

"Well, I see no reason why you can't do both," Sundance said, and he wondered if he was missing something. Perhaps if the office got busier, he might need a dedicated operator, but right now, at this moment, he saw a pony that could enable the barony's communications. 

"I have a railroad station," he said to the family. "It's down south, on the borders of the Everfree. I'll admit, it's not much of a place to raise a family. At least, not yet. There's a bunkhouse. But there's also a place to start a hostel, or an inn, or an eatery… my point is, there's potential. It's a settlement ready to become a town, and what I need are homesteaders. First come, first serve." 

The trio of adults all shared a three-way glance with one another. 

"There's some cleared land there, but not much. You could build a house. Grow an orchard. But what you do is for you to sort out. All I care about is that you're productive and that the station gets up and running. I'll make certain that food is brought to you on a regular basis. With some effort, we can make this work." 

"This is what we came for," Pickled Apple said to Sundance. 

"For now, let's just get you home and settled," Sundance replied. "We'll work out the details later. Moving you south might be a challenge, but we can probably fix the balloon. Welcome to the Sunfire Barony." With the words barely off of his tongue, he wondered how Cork would go to school. While this concerned him, he said nothing about it. It was just another detail that would need sorting. 

"Welcome home," Express Delivery said to the trio. "You'll like it here… just so long as you don't mind the smell of really bad eggs…" 
> Alone in the pent-house
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A small swarm of changelings worked in perfect unison to combine their magic so that immensely heavy objects might be moved. Sundance watched them, thoughtful, contemplative about the events of the morning. A whole new family. Carnation Nosegay was beside herself, and already pestering the new arrivals with the hopes that she might study them. He couldn't blame Miss Nosegay for her enthusiasm; this was her life's work after all. Given time, she would study the barony's magical bloodlines as they emerged. But that was work that took tremendous spans of time. Whole lifetimes. 

The balloon would be fixed, repurposed, and would fly again. This time, it would be sewn up better. Zipzap Clover was a pony of many talents; an electrician of some considerable skill, a carpenter, a pipefitter, a steam-tech, a plumber—but the one thing he was not was a sewer. It was a miracle that the balloon lasted as long as it did. Now, it was just one of the many projects waiting to be finished, busywork for another time. While a balloon wasn't as useful as an airship, it would still be made to serve a purpose. 

Here at Sunfire Barony, nothing was ever truly useless. 

"Ponies have dreams, Sundance… and they will pursue them with reckless abandon." 

The emotionless rasp of Flicker's voice caused Sundance's ears to rise. 

"Hennessy collects doilies. He knows doily makers and patterns and all the minutiae involved with doilies. His passion for this hobby mystifies me." The solemn unicorn paused for a short time, cleared his throat, coughed, cleared his throat again, and then he drew in a deep breath. "He will go through extraordinary circumstances to gain doilies precious to him. What I am trying to say is, you will find that ponies and other creatures will do insane things to come here. Just like refugees that come to Equestria. Like it or not, you've become a magnet. A sort of magnetic north, so to speak, and fate will draw many to you. Not all of them will make it, I suspect. Refugees die by the boatload, in a manner of speaking." 

"What can I do to make it better?" asked Sundance. 

"I have no idea," Flicker replied. "I live surrounded by death. I'm the last pony you should ask. For me, it's all just acceptable losses." 



 

The afternoon brought with it dangerous heat commingled with a sulphurous musk. It wasn't even mid-summer yet, and it was far too warm for Sundance's preferences. Many of the earth ponies didn't seem too bothered by it, but he and his fellow pegasus ponies were hot, sweaty messes. Thankfully, there were cool places where one could find refuge, though the dining hall was not one of them. It was as hot as an oven in there, which made the wood smell somehow more woody. It tickled the nose and teased the nostrils, which made Sundance want to sneeze. 

A long, broad glistening ribbon of drool dribbled from the corner of Remus' mouth, and beside him, Romulus fared no better. The great shaggy beast was clearly miserable and Sundance could think of no way to help him. At least it cooled off rapidly come evening, but that was hours away. The many steam vents spewed clouds of superheated vapour, which left the air more than a little moist. Even in the dining hall, there was no refuge from the mugginess of the sulphur-kissed air. 

Sundance had found out that some of these vents could reach three, or even four-hundred degrees, but this rapidly cooled above ground. Some of the bubbling mudpots exceeded five hundred degrees and getting too close to them in this weather might cause heat stroke in a pony, or anything with a shaggy hide. 

"I feel like I'm livin' in a fart-bubble," Sulky said as she rolled over onto her other side. 

"Go for a swim," Sundance suggested. 

"My wings sunburn in the sun," the filly said in return. "All 'cause I'm missing so many feathers. I can't be out in the sun for long." 

"That… that is really unfortunate. I'm sorry." Unsure of what else to say, Sundance lapsed into silence. 

"You're kind to say that," the pegasus filly replied. "It's nice to be around sympathetic ponies." 

With these words fresh in his mind, it was easy to feel better. 



 

The gatehouse was surprisingly cool, given the current outside temperature, which soared near the triple-digits. Overhead, the skylight's thick metal shutter was closed, and had been since morning. This left the vast open space quite dark, but also offered blessed relief from the blistering, unrelenting sun. What little light that did come in trickled through the narrow windows, and these golden rays highlighted glittering motes of drifting dust. It was a spectacular and perfect target for Sundance's unfocused stare. 

He sat at his table, alone, slunched over his precious paperwork, and not doing anything. Why, he wasn't even looking at said paperwork; he was too busy watching the swirling motes of dust that danced along the length of the narrow lances of sunlight. Be it fatigue or boredom, his expression was vacant, his breathing was shallow, and he was in this moment quite content. It was quiet, it was cool, and he finally had some time to himself to collect his own thoughts. To sort out all he'd experienced in just the past few days. His worldview had radically changed at some point, perhaps in Applewood Hills, or maybe Jersey City. 

Taking full inventory of himself, Sundance could not recall the last time that he'd relieved himself. There were no skin mags here, no visual aids, unless one counted the crudely drawn pictures sometimes found on the box canyon's walls. Not only had he not looked after his own needs—some self-servicing was certainly needed—he hadn't had time for such a thing. At some point, he'd become a bit pent up—and then somehow hadn't noticed. Now, instead of sneaking off to relieve himself, he could only focus on his current state of loneliness. Here he was, surrounded by ponies, most of them friends, creatures most dear to him—and still somehow the loneliness was unbearable. 

When he sighed, the dust motes around him did a crazy dance. 

Head tilted, he glanced down his nose at the paperwork in front of him. Work was a distraction. Also a luxury. If he kept himself busy, he wouldn't need to think of himself. These days were good because he hadn't thought of himself. In his service to others, he'd let his own needs slip. But now, alone, he saw the lapse for what it was. Reaching up, he rubbed his scarred neck, and then thought about what it meant to be a parent. Specifically, he thought of those moments that parents surely had to have, when the foals were quiet, nothing was going on, and they finally had a moment all to themselves. What did they do to take care of themselves? 

Only, he was no parent—even if he felt like one sometimes. 

His eyes focused on the printed words, but failed to read them. The dull language of bureaucracy offered no comfort, no distraction from his thoughts. As busy as he was, as crazy as everything had been, he could not help but wonder: how would he ever find love if he had no time for himself? In the past, this was something he panicked over. But now however, his reaction bothered him, because he had trouble determining what he felt. If he sank all of himself into his work, these brief moments of uncertainty wouldn't matter. He would be too busy to be consumed by them, to be bothered by them. If he found himself upset, or depressed, or overwhelmed, surely life or the barony would offer up a distraction if he were patient. 

Yet, finding a mate was expected of him. 

The complications caused by life were sometimes cruel. 

When life slowed down enough for loneliness to catch up, it was time to go fast again. 

But Sundance was not a fast pony. 

He was a busy pony—but not currently at the moment. 

The faint crinkle of paper shook Sundance out of his funk. Ears pricked, he lifted his head and sat up straight. A soft rustle, like that of a newspaper mid-fold. At the moment, he could hear it, but not see it. Every paper on his table was still, unmoving, and undisturbed. Turmeric's wrath would remain stayed, for now. When he turned in the direction of the sound, that was when he saw it in the stairwell; a paper bird. Only one pony sent paper birds that flew to their intended recipient. 

A powerful sense of relief flooded through his innards as it approached and his spine unkinked.

It flew in a somewhat confused manner, until it cleared the stairwell, and flew in an unerringly straight line right for Sundance. How it even got in was unknown, but it was folly to question magic. How did a paper bird even fly here from Canterlot? This was Twilight Sparkle's mother, Twilight Velvet, so Sundance expected that anything was possible. Flying paper birds were certainly so. 

The bird, a magical construct, did exactly as it was intended to do; which is to say, it flew right into Sundance's nose, shuddered once, and then died. It fluttered down to the table, lifeless, unmoving, it's purpose wholly and completely fulfilled. Sundance stared at it for a time, thought of himself, and then wondered if he would die before or after his own purpose was achieved. Surely, he would die with his great work unfinished. But what great things he would see and accomplish along the way. 

Maybe if he needed a helper, all he had to do was ask for help. 

But before he did that, somepony needed his help, and so he reached for the lifeless paper bird… 
> The city of musical fruit
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

From deep within Sundance's nose, there came a ticking. It was one of life's great mysteries, the ticking that could sometimes be heard within one's own nostrils. Sometimes, it drove him to distraction, because it happened at the worst possible moments, such as when he took a test. Currently, it was a minor annoyance that kept him from breakfast. Tick. Tick. Pop. Tick. When the pop happened, the slight variation of the sound, his right ear jerked. It was almost as if he happened to be a fizzy bottle of soda pop. 

The worst time that it could happen was when he was in bed, and it kept him awake. 

So annoyed was he by his infernal nose-ticking, and not wholly awake, that Sundance found himself dangerously close to a horsey moment. Only he lacked awareness of said horsey moment, and therefore did nothing to gird his loins against it. Some ponies reveled in their horsey moments, while others lived in fear of them. It crept up on Sundance like a primary school fart, a dangerous, wily enemy known to strike without warning. Before he knew what was going on, his lips peeled back from his teeth, his ears pinned back against his head, his nostrils flared extra-wide while his sides convulsed, and a great wickering, bellowing whinny savagely-ravaged his body. 

It was a thunderous sound in the dining hall, a most curious noise, because of the social contagion that it inflicted. Though perhaps, a more reserved sort might call it a social phenomenon. Like a yawn released in a library, or a classroom, the horsey moment tore through the gathered equines, seized them, hijacked their brains, and within seconds, they too had a horsey moment. An explosion of barnyard cacophony rocked the dining hall, with whinnies, and wickers, and expressive, eloquent equine bellows. Like Sundance, lips were peeled back from teeth—or in some instances, toothless gums—ears fell back, and throats were made long and resonant. In the midst of it all, there was a frightful mooing, the sort of moo that was said to foretell the end of all things and to signal the coming of the majestic moo-siah. 

At the end of it all, little Tarantula and Flax went, "EEE-AWWW!" together as one. 

Having just witnessed the horsey moment, Corduroy said nothing, but shook her head. She did not woof, or bay, or bark, or give into base instinct. All she did was roll her eyes while she ate her oatmeal. As for Sundance, it took a moment for him to recover, and when he did he could not help but notice that all eyes were on him. He was to blame. His moment of careless horsitude caused the collective horsey moment. Just one little slip in a half-awake state and they'd all turned back into dumb beasts for a time. 

"Well"—Earwig's eyebrow arched in annoyance—"that's one way to start the morning." 

"Is there anything else the Milord would like to inflict upon us?" asked Good Spirits, who rubbed the corner of his jaw. 

"Mama…" 

Hollyhock asked her son, "What is it, Lemongrass?" 

"What are you eating under there?" the kind colt asked of his mother. 

"Under where?" she replied, oblivious to her son's treachery. 

All of the foals and little ones giggled, while some covered their mouths to silence themselves. 

"Oh!" gasped Hollyhock after she realised that she'd been had by her son of all ponies. "You dirty little scoundrel! How could you?" 

When the colt was snatched up, he howled in alarm, and Sundance watched as Lemongrass was aggressively hugged. It made him think of his own mother, who he missed. When the colt's eyes bulged from their sockets, Sundance allowed a wistful sigh to escape. For all of her faults—of which there were many—Hollyhock was a good mother. She had come into her own and every day, she seemed to be a better pony. Sundance realised that she had changed, more so since their shouting match. Being surrounded by young ones that needed her care had brought out the very best in her. She was the mother figure that would hopefully restore their faith in the world. At least, that was Sundance's fondest wish. 

Leaning over towards Sundance, Corduroy said to him, "I am surprised that you haven't left yet." 

To which he replied, "I've learned that these pickups take a lot of time. It's not a matter of pick up and go. I don't think I'll be home by evening. I should be back by tomorrow though… which means I'll be behind on stuff yet again and have to catch up." 

"That missive from Mrs. Velvet was highly detailed." 

These words gave Sundance pause and he took some time to consider them. Fly to Beantown, just south of Fillydelphia. Find Peaceful Pastures Asylum. Gain custody of a pegasus filly by the name of Sparrowhawk. Achieve custody at all costs, by any means necessary. That last part—double underlined—worried him, though Sundance could not say why. There was an included writ stating that Sparrowhawk was now his property—which troubled Sundance a great deal, but he was more concerned by the fact that Mrs. Velvet felt that such a writ was necessary. There was something about this that she hadn't told him about, and whatever that was, it bothered him a great deal. The fact that the instructions were so detailed, so specific, and yet so vague unnerved him. 

"Sundance… be careful. I have a bad feeling about this." 

He turned to look at Corduroy. Yes, she was worried, and he could see it on her face. 

"This feels dangerous somehow. Menacing. Something about it—" 

"I'm just retrieving a foal, Corduroy. From a hospital. Not sure how that can be dangerous." 

"Don't dismiss my feelings." 

"Oh, I'm not. At least, I didn't mean to if I did. I'll admit that this seems a bit weird, but dangerous?" 

"Just be careful, alright?" Reaching out her paw, she rested it upon Sundance's foreleg. "If there's trouble, you get out of there. If you can. Asylums are, by their very nature, difficult to escape from." 

Something about these words chilled him, and Sundance suffered an involuntary shudder. Looking into her eyes, he saw that Corduroy really was afraid. Surely, Twilight Velvet wouldn't send him into something overtly dangerous. That would put her own plans, and her daughter's plans at risk. Yet, Sundance could not deny that something seemed a bit off about this, like a swollen carton of milk left for just a little too long, forgotten in the back of the fridge. 

Drinking chunky milk had consequences, as he'd once discovered the hard way. 



 

A few hours and a flight east later... 



 

Beantown was a city made of bricks. The narrow, twisting, claustrophobic streets? All bricks. All of the townhouses that crowded the skinny lanes and ribbon-thin streets, all brick. And they came in odd shapes, too. Because the streets were maze-like warrens with twists and turns and odd corners, the townhouses and rowhouses had some peculiar shapes. Some were triangular, others were trapezoidal, some were rectangular, and a few were shapes that Sundance could not name. The only thing they had in common? They were all built from bricks. 

There were canals here as well, but narrower ones meant more for transportation of those who lived here, at least that was the impression that Sundance had. These were spaced out and almost formed a grid, albeit a crazy grid with warped angles and crooked bends. Nothing here was particularly tall and because there were no dense concentrations, urban sprawl stretched from horizon to horizon. It was entirely different from Baltimare, and from anything else that Sundance had seen. Below him was a maze made of bricks. Residential and commercial sections overlapped, with shops on street level and apartments up on top. Most buildings were only five or six stories tall, with ten stories being just about the tallest buildings that stood out in the whole mess. 

And it was a mess. 

A beautiful, chaotic mess. 

Like Baltimare, it was dirty. Gritty. Grimy. Some of the boats that jostled their way through the canals were steam powered, and burned coal. Sundance spotted steam powered trolleys on some streets, and these belched out clouds of soot and ash as they trundled up and down the narrow confines of the urban canyons. Yet, for all of the filth, there was something charming about Beantown. Like Ponyville, with its provincial thatched roof cottages and whitewashed houses, Beantown was a city frozen in time. It was exactly the sort of mess that Sundance imagined when he learned about early industrialisation in school. 

Only other cities grew, changed, and adapted. They tore down old districts to build new structures with gleaming steel, glass, and concrete. Skyscrapers replaced short, squat brick buildings—but not in Beantown. This place was a time capsule of sorts, a bit of history that was lived in. A museum with living exhibits. It was also a warning, and was exactly what Sundance didn't want for his own barony. As charming as it was, it was also horrendous. 

In the skies, he was alone for the most part. Very few pegasus ponies flew up here. From what little he could see, most of Beantown's residents were earth ponies. He flew over a brick factory, which was rather shaped like a squared-off kidney bean. It wasn't a huge structure—not at all like the immense factories of Jersey City—but was rather smallish for what it was. Surrounding it on all sides were townhouses and rowhouses, all of which were conveniently crowded around a workplace. Not too far away was a molasses distillery, which smelled absolutely horrendous. 

Try as he might, Sundance could not spot a suitable place to land. 



 

To the north was Fillydelphia and to the south, a great distance away, Baltimare. Off to the east was the ocean, all crowded with ships and boats, and to the west, as far as the eye could see, was endless brick. Gulls and terns mocked Sundance as they circled overhead. A massive airship slowly descended and prepared to dock in port. Now on the ground, Sundance watched as the immense ship settled earthward in a reserved, majestic manner. Even with the winds coming off the ocean, the airship was somehow as steady as a rock. 

The port airstrip was rather busy with military traffic, and Sundance dared not linger, lest he be in the way. Pegasus ponies in golden armor flew short flights off of seaships, moving goods back and forth in sky trucks very much like his own. As for the port itself, what a busy place it was! Castles constructed from crates were everywhere. There was an open-air market in the south-eastern corner, with stalls, wagons, carts, and all manner of customers. Perhaps most interesting of all, there were dragons here, and minotaurs, and diamond dogs, and even Abyssinians. Though it was rude of him to do so, Sundance could not help but stare. 

It relieved him to see such diversity. 

For whatever reason, it was important to him now, though why exactly, he could not say. 



 

The air stank of briny ocean, fragrant tea, and baked beans. A cafe patio—constructed of brick of course—was crowded with soldiers in golden armor, salary workers, teamsters, and other creatures thirsty for a cup of tea or a bite to eat. The menu had exactly two items: a piping-hot cup of tea, or a hot bowl of beans. The soldiers sat in their own section, all grouped together, as did the salary workers, who spoke amongst themselves of bottom lines, company policy, and taxes. Stimulating conversation, to be sure. Sundance was just close enough to them to listen in on what they had to say. 

Of course, the ponies of Beantown ate beans, and plenty of them. More beans were tinned here than anywhere else in Equestria, and the tinneries ran all hours of the day. The military's bean rations came from this place, and hungry soldiers needed plenty of protein to take the fight to Grogar. Beans were big business; Big Bean lived here, this was its home turf. Bold beans. Baked beans. Beans of a twice-fried nature. Chili beans. Bean salad. Bean-loaf sandwiches. Beans beans beans. 

Here, in this place, the wind existed in a broken state. 

"Hiyas, cutie. Care for some lunch?" 

The waitress spoke with a thick accent, with her kuh sounds followed up with a wuh sound. "Hiyas, cwutie. Cware for some lunch?" Sundance was immediately annoyed and entranced by it. There was no deliberation, no hard decisions, no paralysis brought on by too many choices. Options for his early lunch were limited, and in a strange way, he was thankful for this. It eased the mind and made life easier. 

"A bowl of beans and a cup of tea, please." 

"Cold beans, or hot?" the heavily-accented waitress asked. 

There was a choice to be made, but not an onerous one, and Sundance replied, "Cold." 

"Good choice," the waitress said to him. "It'll be right out." 

"Thank you," he replied, grateful for a bit of simplicity in what was sure to be a complicated day. "Say… if you don't mind me asking—" 

"For a date?" Her eyes brightened. "Sure thing, sugar." 

It came out as 'swure thing, swugar' much to Sundance's consternation. 

What came out of Sundance was a hesitant sputter: "A-a date?" 

"We could skip the date and get right to marriage, if you'd like. There's a civil service chapel just down the road." 

"Mm-mm-mmarriage?" After a quick swallow, Sundance got control of himself. "But we just met. I don't even know your name." 

"My name," she said, smiling at Sundance while batting her eyelashes, "is Navy Bean Pie. As for marriage, a gal has to be bold if she wants it to happen. This is Beantown, sugar. On average, there is exactly one stallion for every twenty-seven mares. My biological clock is a ticking time bomb, sugar. So how about you and I go for a little walk down the lane, and get to know each other?" 

"I'll just have the beans and a cup of tea," he said, somewhat ruffled.

"Suit yourself, sugar." Her wink was saucier than the baked beans being served. 

"I was going to ask if you knew where the Peaceful Pastures Asylum is located." 

"That place?" Navy Bean's face contorted into something that was almost fearful. "That creepy old place? I heard that they pull out bits of your brain through your ear there. Why do you want to find that place?" 

"I have to pick something up." His reply, while honest, revealed nothing. 

"You'll be lucky to get back out of there again," she said with a shake of her head. "I heard they snatch up the homeless for experiments and scramble their brains like eggs." 

At this moment, Sundance could not help but be reminded of Corduroy's words. 

"If you need directions, I can give them to you, sugar. But really, you should stay away. Some ponies say that Peaceful Pastures is the reason why so few males are born here. And others say that there's creepy alien stuff that goes on there. If you go there, you better be careful, sugar. Your face is handsome enough for a gal to like, and there's a real shortage of that around here." 

"Um, thank you?" 

The waitress smiled. It was a real smile, warm, sincere, and meaningful. It was the sort of smile that for the briefest of moments, caused Sundance to reconsider his decision. Perhaps a short walk down the lane wouldn't be so bad. She didn't know him, and he didn't know her—but there was some advantage to this. His title as a baron was unknown to her, and so would be a pleasant surprise. Her earth pony body was practically lithoid in nature, with hard-angled muscles and inviting solidity. Unable to stop himself, Sundance wondered what might be. 

"You'll want to find Canal One-hundred and One, sugar," she said to him as he suffered his moment of distraction. "It is west and south of here. Once you find it, follow it for several miles. Not sure how far. It's a long ways, sugar. Just stick with the canal and you can't get lost. It dumps out into the moat that surrounds the asylum. That place looks like something out of a horror movie. The windows are covered with bars. It's huge… like, really, really huge. A complex, I guess. A whole bunch of buildings and there's an alchemical factory there. That's no rumour, that part. I heard that they test new drugs on the patients and that's part of what scrambles their brains. Not every drug is successful, if you know what I mean." 

Mildly horrified, Sundance nodded in acknowledgement. 

"The main gate is north-facing. You'll want to go there, I guess. You can't miss it. Don't plan on flying inside those walls, sugar." 

"No flying?" 

"Pegasus ponies can't fly there for some reason," Navy Bean replied. "Some kinda spooky magic at work, I guess." 

This worried Sundance more than he cared to admit. 

"You be careful, alright?" 

"Sure thing," he replied as he began to worry about what he was getting himself into. 

"I'll be right back with your order, cutie… you just sit tight." Just as she turned to go, she paused, and after a moment's hesitation she added, "Good luck with whatever it is you're doing. You've been incredibly nice. You remembered your pleases and thank yous. That's rare around here. Most of the fellas are jerks. I think that's because there's so few of them that they know that they can get away with it. It really was nice to meet you." 

"It was a pleasure to meet you," he responded, flattered and flustered. 

Her smile broadened, revealing a few teeth, and then without another word said, she was gone. 
> Rising through the ranks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Standing in the shadow of the asylum entrance gate, Sundance shivered. Beneath the bridge he stood on, the water in the moat glistened with every colour of the rainbow—though not in a beautiful sort of way. The water was best described as a vile sludge with the consistency of runny, lumpy oatmeal. A drain pipe dribbled disgusting ooze, and Sundance suspected that the alchemical plant located here poured its waste directly into the moat. 

As for the asylum itself… 

It did not make a good first impression. There were dozens of buildings inside of the walls, all of them quite old, a relic of an earlier time. He saw bars on the windows and all of the fortified doors appeared to be made out of metal, which was painted a bright, garish red. The gate was black iron, spiked, and the spaces between the bars were too thin for a pony to slip through. If one climbed over the walls somehow, then one would land in the moat—and what a horror that would be. 

To make things easier on himself, Sundance imagined that he was a knight sent to rescue a princess from some noxiously evil castle. Yes, a noble knight, who was fearless, bold, and brave. Though it could be argued that bravery was not the same as an immunity to overwhelming effects of fear. As he stood there pondering this subject, a little voice in the back of his mind suggested that he had to keep his fear in check; fear was the enemy here and if he went stupid while inside these gates, he might not ever come out again. The realisation made him swallow, and there was an uncomfortable lump in his throat that just wouldn't go down. 

"Can I help you?" a guard on the other side of the gate asked. 

"I'm here to pick somepony up," Sundance said to the guard. 

"The residents here are incurables," the guard replied. "Nopony gets out. Ever. You must be mistaken." 

"I have a writ," Sundance said. "I am supposed to pick up a filly named Sparrowhawk." 

Chewing on his lip, the guard appeared to be quite dubious, and Sundance wondered if he would be denied access. Nothing was said; nothing happened. The sounds of the city somehow faded and the silence reigned supreme. Getting past the gate would be a challenge all its own—and getting out again might also prove difficult. Sundance wished that Corduroy was here, or maybe Paradox. More than anything, he just wished that he wasn't alone at this moment; he needed somepony—somebody—to save him from his own stupidity, should it happen. 

"Can you come back at another time?" the guard asked. 

"No," Sundance replied in as firm of a tone as he could muster. "I am Lord Sundance Sunfire, of the Sunfire Barony, and I will not be turned away. If I am made to come back, it will be with an army." 

"Oh… crap. Look, I'm on hourly and don't get paid enough to deal with this kind of minotaur shit. I'll let you in, but you're going right to administration. Those assholes and their salary pay grade can deal with you." Heaving a sigh, the guard shook his head from side to side. "Those assholes in administration aren't going to like this at all. I'd better not lose my job over this crap. Come along, and follow me." 



 

Administration stank of disinfectant, old paper, and stale ink. The floor was a checkerboard pattern of pale green and dingy white tiles. Scuffed, scarred wainscotting on the walls was evidence that this place had seen better days. Closer inspection revealed that the wood was practically decaying, and bricks bulged behind the yellowed, off-white wallpaper. Sunlight struggled to shine through windows stained with a film of nicotine. Above him, Sundance saw yellow-brown nicotinecicles, the sight of which threatened to turn his innards inside out. 

An old mare with a leathery, sagging face squinted at Sundance through greasy bifocals. A cigarette hung out of the corner of her mouth, and her lips were stained an unpleasant yellow-orange, along with patches of her fuzzy face. Her eyes were festooned with red spiderwebs, and she appeared to not have slept at any time in the past two-hundred years. She wore a wig which fitted poorly around her stubby horn, and one ear was snagged on some clotted, clumped curls. 

"This is highly unusual," the mare said in a frog-voiced croak. "You're here to pick up property. I don't know anything about this. Administration can't help you, sir. Perhaps management can sort this out. We here in administration don't actually do any real administration. We just fill out paperwork to satisfy union demands. I hope you understand." 

"I do, actually. This is where ponies too old to work but too young to retire end up. A sort of bureaucratic vegetable bin where the useless sorts are put away to satisfy the unions." 

Clearly offended, the mare sneered at him, and the cigarette held in the corner of her lips bobbed up and down, which caused the smoke to curl crazily. "You got a smart mouth on you, you do." 

"Oh, I know." Sundance nodded, and allowed himself a sardonic smile. "There's ponies out there struggling to make ends meet and working two or three jobs, all while you get paid to smoke in your office. Just imagine what those freed up funds could do to help others." 

"Well, there's no sense in delaying you. I'll take you to management. Right away." 



 

Management was somewhat nicer, but not by much. There was less nicotine, but the stench of alcohol tickled Sundance's nose. Somepony around here imbibed a bit too much liquid lunch. He studied the floors, which were matted, faded carpet, and couldn't help but wonder what century they had been vacuumed last. Diplomas were hung on the wall, along with photos in chintzy wooden frames. Some of the photos were black and white—most of them in fact—but a few had colour. 

A middle manager type read the writ over and over, his eyes darting back and forth like two weasels hyped up on caffeine. This pony was pudgy, pear-shaped, and he clearly spent too much time sitting in the comfortable chair behind his desk. His shirt and jacket were sweat stained, wrinkled, and in need of laundering. An atmosphere of boiled cabbage and bottom shelf booze lurked about him, a great guaranteer of equinal space.  

"I don't recognise one of the names," the sweaty stallion said nervously. "For all I know, this might be a forgery. "Who in Tartarus in Mi Amore Cadenza? There's no Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, as far as I know. I recognise Princess Twilight Sparkle and Prince Blueblood. But I dunno who this Mi Amore Cadenza character is. I'm not sure this is legal." 

"That's Princess Cadance. Of the Crystal Empire. Or, Empress Cadance if you—" 

"Well why not just sign her proper name? For all I know, this is a forgery!" 

"So, when I come back with an army of Royal Guardsponies, you can explain to them your ignorance and your—" 

"Whoa, hey now!" The sweaty stallion bristled with offense, and bared his teeth. "We're a province of the City State of Fillydelphia. Don't you think you've done enough with your lockdown of the city? Now you gotta threaten us too?" 

"Give me what I came for, and I will go away," Sundance said in neutral tones. "I can be reasoned with. For now."

"I can't give you what you want," the sweaty stallion replied whilst he shook his head from side to side. "This will have to go through the directorate committee. All we do here is hires, fires, and payroll. Occasionally, we dole out severance packages when there's budget cuts and layoffs, but those have to be agreed upon by committee." 

"So," Sundance said, his patience wearing thin, "stop wasting my time and take me to somepony competent enough to help me. Take me to somepony that's actually in charge… or else. You're about to be really busy with a backlog of firings." 

"Eh… oh… oh shit." The sweaty stuffed shirt blinked in alarm. "Uh, follow me. Right this way." 



 

The evidence of money and refinement could be found everywhere the eye dared to look. No trace of brick could be found; everything was covered in fine-textured plaster. Under hoof, the floors were fine hardwoods and luxurious rugs. The vents blew out cool air that was remarkably stench free. There were windows up here, clean, with fine shades and curtains. Money, like cream, rose to the top, and this office space was downright palatial. 

In the middle of it all was Autumn Allium. 

Sundance thought of his visit to Cactus Creek, and he could not help himself; he found himself comparing the two places. He found that he much prefered the perfect ponies that acted with altruism and kindness to the soulless bureaucrats found within this mouldering asylum. There was life to be found in Cactus Creek. Here, there was rot, shame, and horror. Director Buttergebäck was kind, warm, and inviting. 

Autumn Allium was not. 

The middle-aged earth pony sneered at him with open, brazen contempt, her absolute dislike for him evident upon her withered features. She'd been silent for some time now, and she just stared at him with outright loathing and resentment. He knew the gig; he'd worked his way up the food chain, and he'd spooked a few underlings. The bureaucratic game had strict rules, and he'd learned quite a few of them during his long project. 

But now, he was in uncharted territory. 

Sundance saw what he could become, and he didn't like it; not one bit, not one iota. 

A caretaker that did not care was simply a taker, and nothing else. 

"I don't even understand how you managed to get her name," Autumn Allium said to Sundance. "The names are unavailable to the public." 

"That strikes me as suspicious," he replied. 

"Then you are an ignorant fool," she snapped. "It is done to protect the patient's privacy. Once they are here, it is best that they are forgotten." 

"I would imagine that it also makes it very difficult to find ponies that have gone missing from around here—" 

"Don't even mention such slanderous gossip. It's all conspiracy! There's no proof!" 

"There's no proof because the names are stricken from records," Sundance said as he fought to control his rising fear and anger. If he went stupid now, he worried that his own name would be stricken from the record. "I have her name, and I have a writ stating that she is to be released into my custody." 

"Pfah, ownership! Disgusting! A relic of Equestria's barbaric past!" 

"You don't get to talk, lady. How many ponies do you have here, held against their will, with no record of them even being here? How many captives do you hold?" 

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner!" 

"An accusation is not an answer," he said to her, mindful as ever of his own fear. "Like it or not, I'm here to fetch property. As owner, I have a right to what is mine." 

"This is highly irregular," she said, her tone much softer now. "We don't just release patients. It's not done. For their own health, we keep them under a fixed routine. Change of any sort is traumatic to them. Do you really want to hurt this little girl? Hasn't she suffered enough?" 

"I am almost certain that she's done nothing but suffer while in your care." 

Hatred. Sundance saw outright hatred in the mare's eyes. She'd tried a softer, nuanced approach, which rather blew up in her face. If looks could kill, Sundance knew that he'd be a corpse on the floor, a heap on the fine paisley-printed carpet. Autumn Allium hated him and she did nothing to hide her rancor. It distorted her face with a great many wrinkles, and hidden fires burned just behind her narrowed eyes. 

At first he thought about what his mother might do, but that was a bad idea. Officer Mom would beat this mare to within an inch of her life, he suspected. No, that would not do. As for his father, his father would never allow himself to be caught up in this sort of situation. His grandmother would likely deliver a righteous smiting of the hindquarters—Officer Mom got it from her mother, afterall. Which left him thinking of his Great Grandmother. What would Princess Celestia do about this? 

Probably what he was doing now: staying the course. 

"Please, can we get on with this?" he asked. "My time is actually quite valuable." The unsaid implication hung in the air very much like an anvil shoved out of a second story window and he saw her bristle. "Deliver to me what is mine so that I might go about my business. Only ponies who waste their own time have the time to waste the time of others." 

"I can't do what you're asking," she said through teeth that clicked together with every movement of her jaw. 

"You can," he returned, "and you will. Go on… hop to it. Be a good public servant… and serve." He double-tapped his hoof against the floor to indicate double time. "You and I have the same job descriptions. But unlike you, I do my job, and I do it well. Might I recommend submitting requisition forms for a public relations agent? You seem to have some difficulty. Just a suggestion." 

She ground her teeth together, which made an awful sound, but offered no other response. Sundance listened, and while he did so, he did his best to control his breathing. Short steady breaths. Regular. Rhythmic. She'd lost her cool, but he hadn't, and so, for the moment at least, he had the advantage. Princess Celestia might have handled this with a bit more grace and nuance, a bit more diplomacy, but Sundance was pleased with himself—at least for now. 

"Very well," she said with visible ire, which could be seen with every muscle twitch. "Follow me, if you will…" 
> With teeth
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"—since I'm being so accommodating, the least you can do is be civil." 

This suggestion caused Sundance to bristle in the worst possible way. It just rubbed him wrong. "Accommodating, you say?" He needed a big inhale for what came next. "Accommodating. You no doubt knew of my arrival, but told none of your staff. There were no plans in place to welcome me. Because nopony knew what to do, I had to inconvenience your employees just to get the bare minimum of cooperation, which none of them wanted to provide." 

It was at this point that Autumn Allium began to grind her teeth. 

"All of which could have been avoided if you'd prepared for my arrival. Please, do tell me how I've been accommodated. Write me a list. Offer me proof of your preparedness. You didn't tell your underlings of my arrival because you hoped that I'd get frustrated, or angry, or impatient, or whatever it is that you hoped for, and you wanted me to go away. Well… I've got bad news for you, Mrs. Allium… I'm a bureaucrat to the bone. A creature of infinite patience when it is necessary. I cannot be made to just go away." 

Autumn Allium's face was now a convention for a variety of facial tics. In fact, she seemed right on the verge of having a stroke, or perhaps an aneurysm. As for Sundance, he had himself a bit of a better understanding of his place in the world. It wasn't glamorous, or glorious, and it wasn't the sort of thing that one dreamt about becoming when one was still a small, precious foal. He was an Administrator, of a take-no-shit sort. His mother was Officer Mom, a born policemare. A dedicated public servant. And so was he. So, serve the public he would. Until his last, final gasp. 

But before he went, he would finish his paperwork, because that was expected. 

Having discovered himself, and feeling quite comfortable in his own skin, Sundance found himself more than prepared to sort this out. He would see this through somehow. This was a job, and he was the right pony for this task. All the pieces slipped and fell into place. Sundance knew that he would spend the rest of his life doing the very thing that he did right now. 

Saving others. 

Sure, he wasn't a knight, or a wizard—he lacked a horn, which was a basic requirement for that particular job—he wasn't a soldier, or a suave, sophisticated spy. He wasn't a police officer, like his mom, a mare doing her own part to save the world. Sundance was a pencil pusher. A paper filer. He was a battler of triplicate, a manager of managers. And this was fine. This made him content. For somepony to reach for the stars, another pony had to reach for the filing cabinet to make that possible. Such was the way of things, and in this moment, this glorious moment, Sundance understood this with perfect clarity. 

"I still don't understand how you got her name," Autumn Allium said to Sundance. 

"That bothers you, doesn't it?" he replied. "So, where is she and why am I kept waiting?" 

"It takes time to prepare her for presentation," the bitter middle-aged mare returned. 

"Presentation is unnecessary. I am taking her home." 

When Autumn Allium muttered something beneath her breath, Sundance failed to hear what it was. He let it slide, because he saw no reason to be upset about it. Fear still lurked in the darkened corners of his mind, but for now, he was in control of himself. And as long as he kept control of himself, he would have his wits, a vital ally of utmost importance. All things considered, he felt pretty good about himself right now. 

"For your safety as well as the safety of others, she must be prepared for presentation. Sparrowhawk is a violent psychopath, an aggressive urinator, and a serial biter. Out of all of our young, incurable patients, she is the worst. She's practically feral. I do hope that you have the necessary facilities to contain her, and a hospital to treat her victims." 

This rattled Sundance a good deal more than he cared to admit, but he showed no outward signs. 

"A serial urinator?" 

"Yes." Her head nodded once, and then was still. "With uncanny aim. Eye protection is highly recommended, as is full body armor. She bites as a means of saying hello. In fact, biting and urination happens to be her primary forms of communication." 

Disturbed somewhat, Sundance thought of his interview at Cactus Creek, specifically the question about what he would do if a foal bit him. Surely patience would win over the troubled tyke. Even though some of his confidence was now diminished, he remained steadfast. Twilight Velvet had sent him here for a reason, and surely, surely she wouldn't burden him with such a dangerous foal. There had to be more going on here than he understood. Perhaps things would be made clear after the fact. But to reach that point, he had to stay the course. He had to trust. 

"Some of her bites, it takes a team of trained surgeons to make the bleeding stop," Autumn Allium remarked. "Many of my staff are missing ears because of her." 

Corduroy was good at stitching, Sundance reminded himself, but this did not make him feel better. 



 

A number of ponies in the room were missing ears, but Sundance barely noticed. His attention was squarely focused upon the masked filly who sat on a wooden chair. She was muzzled, which disturbed him greatly. Something about her seemed off; she was sickly in appearance, her wings were unpreened, and there was something about her colour that just seemed off somehow. She was bronze, but her pelt had no shine, no gloss. Her copper mane was dull, stringy, and limp. Looking at her, he felt a distinct and noticeable ache on each hip where his marks were located. 

"Is this really happening?" somepony murmured, and Sundance barely heard it. 

Both infuriated and stricken by what he saw, he tried to reason with himself on how or why this might be necessary, but he could reach no satisfying conclusion. One of the armored orderlies near the chair coughed, and when he did, he fogged up his clear plastic face shield. When Sundance took a step closer, both of the armored orderlies clanked and clattered as they adopted a stern, commanding posture. But Sundance was not at all deterred by this authoritative display. In this room, he was the authority, and he made himself remember that. 

"Take that off," he commanded. 

"We can't—" 

"I am telling you to take it off, or else." Every muscle in Sundance's body contracted, his guts knotted, and for the first time, his hackles began to rise. Just a few hanks of hair stood up, an early warning sign that he was angered. "Fine. If you won't do it, I will." 

"Sir, that is ill-advised," an earth pony mare said. 

More of Sundance's hackles rose to the occasion. 

Autumn Allium stood in the corner, silent, almost smirking. 

There were no windows, no means of escape. No way to fly away. There was no reassuring sunlight here, only oppressive darkness, which somehow manifested itself in the overbright room lit by powerful electric lights. Sundance was no warrior; this particular fact stood out in his mind. The two armored guards were earth ponies with powerful builds. There was a single unicorn, who stood near Autumn Allium. A half a dozen ponies were also in the room, two pegasus ponies, and four earth ponies. Instinct told him that there was no way that he would win this fight, if it came to a fight. 

Which meant that he had to keep his head. He had to keep his cool. Somehow, he had to get himself back out into daylight, and he had to do so with the filly. He'd already made up his mind that leaving her behind was not an option, and come Tartarus or high water, he was leaving with her. The two guards wore menacing scowls behind their plastic face shields. So this was what being in over your head felt like, Sundance realised. 

"Surely you must be a pony of reason," Autumn Allium said. "By now, you must have realised the seriousness of the situation. If you want to do what is best for her, you will leave her here in our care. Just leave, and forget about her. We have the means and the resources to care for her and to look after her special needs. You don't. You will quickly find yourself in over your head, and you—" 

"Take that off, or else there will be trouble," Sundance said whilst he eyeballed the two guards. 

"If we take that off, there will be trouble," one of the pegasus ponies said. "Polenta, I think the sedative is already wearing off. Look, she stirs!" 

Everypony stepped back, including the guards, and when they did, Sundance moved closer. Sparrowhawk's eyes were crazed, manic, and her pupils contorted and contracted in odd ways. Her eyes were absolutely fearless and were terrifying to behold. Confused by what he saw, Sundance began to doubt himself—but his moment of doubt was his breaking point. The daredevil in him chose rash action, and before his rational mind could object, the daredevil had already taken over. Now a passenger, the rational part of his brain peered out through Sundance's eyeballs, and sent out a flood of thoughts that pleaded for a restoration of rationality before absolute insanity took hold. 

But it was too late; Sundance's eyes were every bit as manic as the filly's. 





Oh no, Rationality said to whoever might be listening. 

Oh yes, the Id replied. If we can't get laid, at least we can have action. Blood or semen, release the demon! 

The only moral action is a fine and proper kicking of the ass, the Super-Ego said as Sundance strode confidently, fearlessly forward. 

Can't we just have a vote? the Ego asked. 

This is not a democracy, the Id replied. This is a morally-mandated murder-spree.

But the filly might be traumatised if we dance upon their guts, the Super-Ego said to all the others, but also to the Id in particular. For her sake, we must show restraint.



 

The filly stank strongly of urine and filth. It made Sundance's skin crawl just to be near her, and he shuddered with revulsion as his lips brushed up against her mane. She was damp—moist—and smelt of urine. He was quick to put two and two together. At some point, quite recently no doubt, she'd been drenched. Almost trembling, he got his teeth on the strap behind her head, and gave it a powerful yank to undo the brass snaps. She yelped when some stray hairs in her mane got tugged, and there were cries of alarm as the mask tumbled away from her face. 

For a moment, nothing happened. All of the ponies in the room, including the two armored guards, pressed up against the walls, as if they feared for their lives. Sparrowhawk just sat there for a time, unmoving, and her small, thin wings were limp against her sides. Sundance looked down at her, and she up at him, and he had himself a very hopeful moment. But his hopes were dashed when her lips puckered; suddenly, and without warning, his face was drenched and he was almost blinded by some foul liquid that was squirted right into his eyes. 

It was piss; the filly somehow had a mouthful of piss. 

Eyes burning, half blinded, he backed away and shook his head to clear his vision. His nostrils were thoroughly violated by the powerful stench of urine, some of which had gone up his nose. But his ears still worked, and he heard a wildcat sound, a sort of screech that was also a shriek, but also had a good bit of yowl mixed in. Dizzy, on the verge of stomach-churning queasiness, and unable to see much of anything, Sundance was quite vulnerable. 

"Argh, piss!" Sundance somehow managed to say as some of the vile liquid dribbled from his contorted lips that convulsed from his revulsion. 

"They gave me an enema a while ago," the filly said as she lunged, "otherwise you'd get brownies too!" 

And then, without further ado, the tiny terror chomped Sundance's left front leg, just above his fetlock. Her vorpal teeth went snicker-snack, cleaved through thin skin, and sank right down to the bone with an ominous clompity-crunch. A thousand thoughts went through Sundance's mind, with one of them being his interview with Gleeful Gambol, who had asked him, "A foal bites you. What do you do?"

At the time, he had replied, "Well, I don't bite them back." But those were the halcyon days before the shark filly had introduced her teeth to him. Those were days that Sundance would miss. They were days that he would never get back. The future, and all the coming days would be spent dealing with the electric agony that went shooting up and down his left leg, a highly mobile agony that somehow worked its way into his left wing, and went dancing up and down his left side. 

Sundance, in a fit of nostalgia, longed for the days that came before. 

The most primal, most pegasusy part of Sundance responded in a language unique to pegasus ponies: He bit her back. It didn't matter that she was soaked and filthy, or that she was little and vulnerable. His head darted down, and in a moment of sheer horsitude, he bit her in the most tender of places, right between the wings. With a good nip of skin held betwixt his teeth, he lifted her from the floor, whipped his head to his left, the side where all the pain was, and then, just as she began to squeal, he dropped her. 

"You bit me!" she cried. "It hurt! Nopony has ever bitten me before!" 

And then, before he could respond, she darted between his front legs, and stood beneath his belly. Raw frozen terror gripped Sundance when he realised all of the tender places he had beneath him, a smorgasbord of soft bits, all of which were quite vulnerable to biting. But no bites happened. The confusion stretched out for several long seconds and Sundance desperately tried to recover his senses. 

Then, he heard the filly say, "Alright, you're in charge! Just don't bite me again, that really hurts! Now come on! We can take them!" 

"What?" he asked, more confused now than at any other moment in his life. 

"We can take them!" she cried as the crowd began to recover. "Let's bite our way to freedom!" 
> A return to reason
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Whatever happens," Sundance said to the filly that stood beneath him, "you stay with me. No matter what. Best friends stick together." 

There was no response. No reply. The room full of ponies all stared at Sundance, who was more concerned about fighting his fear than he was battling and brawling a roomful of ponies. Ten ponies in total; Autumn Allium, a unicorn, two armored guards, two pegasus ponies, and four earth ponies. This was not a fight he could win, and he knew this. Which meant keeping his wits at all costs. Sundance was so far removed from his own pegasus roots that he really didn't know how a pegasus should handle this situation. What manner of aggressive posture was apropos? Should he display his wingspan to establish dominance, or would that leave his wings vulnerable, exposed, and easily broken? 

"You have no choice but to let me go," Sundance said to the crowd around him. "And I'm taking her with me. Out of my way." 

"I don't think so," Autumn Allium replied with a shake of her head. "You bit her. You're clearly a danger to her and—" 

"And you're going to tell me with a straight face that you're not?" he demanded. 

This clearly wasn't what Autumn Allium expected, and her eyes narrowed as she cast her cold, imperious stare upon Sundance. The two armored guards were a bit braver now, and they placed themselves between Autumn Allium and Sundance. As for the other orderlies, they remained in the corners, at a distance, but readied themselves for the inevitable conflict that was sure to come. 

"You can't have her," Autumn Allium said at last. "I'll admit, this whole thing was a mistake. I should have just made you leave rather than hope that you'd be scared away by her." 

"Yes"—he nodded his agreement—"you've made a lot of mistakes, I figure, and you're about to make many more. I have huge armies, soldiers enough to fill the skies. Powerful wizards. When I return, and you can be assured that I will return, I will take what is mine by force. And make no mistake, I will tear this place down brick by brick." 

"Boss, this guy sounds delusional," one of the armored guards said. 

"Delusional enough to be admitted for observation," the other added. 

"I am a baron." Now stiff-legged, Sundance drew himself up to his full height, which wasn't at all impressive. "I am a pony of utmost importance." His own words galled him, and he loathed himself for saying them. "I am important because of what I do, which is to serve others. A great many lives depend on me. Should I fail to return home, I will be missed. The others know that I came here. My exact location is known. Should you try to detain me, you will invite your own destruction." 

But, he found that he wasn't done. 

"And if you detain me, it will be I who will punish you. To move against me is to face my judgment." He had no idea if this was true, but that didn't stop him from saying it. "Make no mistake, I will do to you whatever it is that you are doing to your patients here, and there is no force that can stop me. I am Lord Sundance of the Sunfire Barony, and on my lands, my word is law. Ponies live and die by my will." 

There was fear in the room; Sundance discovered that his sensitive nose could smell it. Among all the other smells, such as urine and filth, fear stood out and caused electric prickles in the back of his sinuses, which in turn excited his brain in weird, previously unexperienced ways. Autumn Allium's smug superiourity was gone now, and was replaced by a neutral expression that revealed nothing. She was thinking, considering perhaps. Weighing the situation. 

"We can't let him leave," the unicorn said. "All of our great work here will be exposed. All we have worked for will be lost." 

"It was all over for you the moment I showed up at your gate," he said to the unicorn. "Let's face it… you got played. Twilight Velvet had a plan, and now, whatever it is that you have going on here, it's over. Trying to keep me here will only make things worse for you. There is absolutely no way that you can win here. Keep Sparrowhawk, and I'll come back for her. Keep me, and others will come for me. I would imagine that an irate Twilight Sparkle and her mother arriving at your gate would be enough… the army wouldn't even be needed. There is no scenario where you can win. So just let me walk away… and perhaps mercy will be shown." 

The adrenaline jitters caused every muscle in his body to twitch, and his nerves were filled with lightning. Shame burned like a brand pressed into his brain; he'd just said some awful things, he'd implicated that he could abuse his authority, and that along with the adrenaline response made him want to spew. Even worse, he wanted these ponies to be deathly afraid of him, and some of his own primal responses betrayed him. He could smell their fear and a part of him liked it, a part of himself that he was thoroughly disgusted with. 

When he thought about it, he realised that he spoke to them as if they were peasants. 

As if his life was somehow more inherently valuable than theirs, and he'd even used the inflated value of his own existence as a bargaining chip. A bit of leverage that he applied against them. He'd just talked down to them—and now he very much wanted to throw up. Confrontation was not his strong point; his argument with Hollyhock had left a lasting impression that continually lingered in his thoughts and left him ashamed. Yet, what choice did he have? Violence? Yes, violence was still an option on the bargaining table. The unicorn certainly seemed to think so, if her expression was anything to go by. 

"If I see that horn of yours light up even just a little bit," Sundance said to her, "you'll be illuminating the inside of this guy's colon." He pointed at the armored guard, and as he did so, he heard a demented spine-tingling giggle from beneath him. "I didn't become a baron by being a pushover… I've picked a fight with an owlbear. That's how I got these scars, see… and if I can pick a fight with an owlbear, I'll make short work of you." 

"He's bluffing," the armored guard said. 

"Try me and find out," Sundance replied. "Up for a little amateur proctology?" 

It was a tense, sweaty moment, one that loitered dangerously and left the unmentionables moistened. 

"We can't let him leave," the unicorn said. 

"We can't keep him, either," one of the pegasus ponies said. "He's right. If we make this worse than it is, he'll put our heads on the block, because that's what the royals and nobles do. Kill anypony that disagrees with them. That's why they're in power."

Sundance very much wanted to argue this point, but kept his mouth shut. 

"We could keep him hostage," one of the ponies suggested. 

"Shut up, Polenta," the pegasus pony said. "I'd like to keep my head if somehow possible." 

"I can grant leniency," Sundance said. "I have the power to give life as well as take it." 

"He's lying," the armored guard said. 

"I say we keep him, and wipe his mind like we've done with some of the others. Odds are good that he's lying, and nopony will come looking for him."

"Polenta, you really need to learn to keep your trap shut." 

"We could just wipe his mind and let him go and—" 

"Polenta, shut up. For the love of beans, just shut up." 

Backed against the wall, Sundance took a moment to try and read a few faces, and did so as if his life depended on it. On some, there was fear. Others, aggression. As for Autumn Allium, she was neutral. Unreadable. Her body language revealed nothing. In her eyes, there was only cold cunning, an almost reptilian state of being. He couldn't tell if she had been swayed by his words, and he had no idea what she might do next. 

If his mind got wiped somehow, what then? 

Surely, that wasn't planned for. 

The fear was a living thing now, a great unseen terror, and Sundance could feel his mind going. Little by little, he could sense his declining sense of reason. The urge for violence was a palpable thing and right now, there was nothing in this room that was more of a danger to him than he himself. He couldn't remember the way out and the facility was a maze of lookalike hallways and stairs. His sense of direction was broken and he was almost certain that he was underground right now. There could be no doubt that subterranean tunnels connected all the various buildings of the complex together. 

Was he stuck? 

That remained to be seen. 

"Let him go," Autumn Allium said. 

"If we do that, that's the end of us." 

"This is already the end of us," Autumn Allium replied. "We knew the risks when we started. It's over." 

Every eye in the room was now on Autumn Allium, and not on Sundance. 

"Once again the Princesses hold us back," Autumn Allium said as she rolled her eyes. "Innovation is stifled and forward progress is impeded. Princess Twilight would have us all living in thatched roof hovels. Visionaries must be blinded." She turned her sad, defeated gaze upon Sundance, studied him for a time, and her expression warmed into something that was almost recognisable. "Your resolve is admirable, but I doubt that you will understand what you've done. The lives that you've ruined and the future that you've destroyed. We were so close to so many cures… new treatments. With results, anything can be forgiven… but our work is unfinished so we have nothing to save our necks. Get out. Just go. Take the filly and leave. You've saved one life at the expense of countless others." 

Confused as he was, Sundance wanted to know more, but he did not ask. No, he would not be drawn into that discussion. He knew a verbal trap when he heard one. No, now was a time to be graceful, to be Sundance Sunfire of the Sunfire Barony. He cleared his throat to try and get their attention, and then drew in a deep breath to ease the fires raging in his lungs. All of his nerves flung electric darts into his muscles, and he was still very much ready for a fight. 

"You're doing the right thing," he managed to say. 

"This can't be over," a mare said as she cast her eyes to the floor. 

"I'll show you out," Autumn Allium said to Sundance. "No tricks. No treachery. I want you to know… that no matter what you find out, or hear about, whatever comes after the dust is settled, we had good intentions. We took lives with no meaning, no value, and gave them purpose. Our actions were for the benefit of all. If you have any mercy to offer, please… keep that in mind." 

As much as Sundance wanted to berate this awful mare, and argue with everything she had to say, he did not. In this moment, as blood trickled down his leg and puddled around his hoof, he was Baron Sundance, the best possible version of himself. He somehow kept his contempt corralled and kept a tight rein on his urge to chastise. It was, after all, an argument that he could not hope to win. There was no benefit to proving himself right, not when there was a foal to get to safety. 

Rather than allow his worst base instincts to get the better of him, he gave Autumn Allium a solemn, meaningful nod. He acknowledged her and her words without judgment, and when he did, a downright surreal calm washed over him like a gentle wave lapping over a protruding rock. All lives had value, he thought to himself, even these lives. With his head tilted off to one side, a pose of thoughtfulness, he reminded himself of Cucumber, a pony that had done terrible things. Awful things. Mercy was a precious thing in short supply. 

"We can't let him leave," one of the armored guards said. 

"We can, and will," Autumn Allium replied in deadpan. "In the coming days, we will somehow have to prove that we are not monsters, and defend ourselves from the ignorant masses that will not understand the importance of what we're doing here. This is for our survival. We cannot appear to be lunatics in charge of the asylum." 

In response, the guard groaned, but said nothing. 

"We are not cackling madponies," she continued. "We are reasonable, rational ponies. Visionaries. Ponies of extraordinary vision… ponies not likely to be understood in our own lifetime, but history will be on our side. Keep your spirits up. Perhaps the worst will not come to pass." 

To Sundance's ears, these words sounded hollow and meaningless. 

"Please, follow me. I'll show you to the exit." Then, after a moment of prolonged pause, she added, "I hope that you will remember that we allowed you to walk. If there is mercy to be had, we shall surely need it in the days to come." 

Again, Sundance nodded; he was too afraid of an argument slipping out to say anything. 

"We are ponies of science…" Autumn Allium's words trailed off into a muted moan. She shook her head, cleared her throat, and a soft, almost inaudible wicker escaped her. Then, she said to the ponies around her, "Prepare the facility for what is sure to come. Inform the others. Whatever you do, do not purge our data. That might be what saves us. Things will happen quickly now." 

Still against the wall, Sundance could sense the spreading panic. 

"I'll show you out," she said to Sundance, and then she gestured at the door. 



 

The red metal door slammed shut behind him and for the very first time in a good long while, Sundance was able to draw breath without painful constriction. He sucked in a lungful of outside air, and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Sparrowhawk, her head poking out from between his front legs, squinted and turned her head skyward. Then, she screamed. After this scream worked its way free, so did another, and another. She yelled, she hollered, and she shrieked. 

Behind him, the door did not re-open. 

No assistance was offered. 

There was no help to be had. 

Sparrowhawk shrieked with such intensity that Sundance feared that her lungs might tear. Mid-scream, she latched onto his bleeding leg, buried her face against his ribs, and then continued to wail like a siren. The sound was such that it caused his eyes to vibrate and jitter in their sockets, and sharp pain could be felt deep within his ears. When Sundance looked down, he saw a spreading puddle of liquid terror pooling around his hoof. 

His sky truck was right where he'd left it. Somehow, he had to make the screaming stop, and he needed to get Sparrowhawk away from this place. Why was she screaming, anyhow? Her tiny, frail body jerked and twitched against him, and he could feel the torn skin around his leg getting tugged on. It hurt, but he was so caught up in everything happening that he barely noticed. The yelling was inside of his head now, a painful sound that permeated his brain and damaged his ability to reason. 

If he strolled down the street with a shrieking filly in the cart behind him, there would be problems. The sort of problems that would be impossible to explain. Maybe even problems that might not be believed. And then those problems would turn into bigger problems, problems like being arrested, and then things could only get worse from there. The brick building and metal door were cold and indifferent to Sparrowhawk's shouting. He stood there, uncertain of what to do, fearful of every outcome, and almost paralysed from the overwhelming situation. 

As it turned out, just getting her outside was just the beginning of his problems. 

There was a weird tingle in his wings, and then he noticed a peculiar pull. It was a pull, but not like any other pull that he'd ever experienced. Nausea impaled his guts and he began sweating profusely as the peculiar sensation intensified into something truly unpleasant. Something in the back of his mind suggested that his very soul was getting yanked on, and he found this notion to be wholly disagreeable. Why, he didn't like this idea at all. Sparrowhawk's wailing continued unabated and his ears rang unpleasantly. 

Around him, the world took on a strange purply-pink cast and his eyeballs warned him that they were going to pop right out of their sockets at any second. His legs turned to noodles; his extremities were suddenly boneless and he desperately wanted his legs to be wherever his bones went. But there could be no denying it, his bones were gone, and his legs were noodlefied. Which was really rather unpleasant. But this profound unpleasantness grew worse with every passing second, and the magenta hue in his vision turned blinding. 

Then, Sundance could no longer feel his heart beating. 

Perhaps it too had gone to be with his departed leg bones. 

So this is what a milkshake feels when it is sucked into a straw, he thought to himself as reality turned rubbery and he was crushed on all sides by some weird pressure. 

One by one, his organs seemed to vanish, and he could feel what he was sure were empty cavities within himself. With his liver on vacation, and his kidneys off to go potty without a hall pass, he wondered if this is what it was like to die. Autumn Allium had tricked him; she'd tricked him but good and now, he was dying. Well, so much for mercy. Earlier this morning, there was a proposal from a total stranger for marriage. Now, as he ceased to exist, Sundance wished that he'd taken that offer. He wished that he'd done a lot of things. 

His death would not be caused by the smokestacks of the Utility Muffin Research Kitchen. No, he would die a noble death, having attempted to rescue a filly from some horrible dank asylum. But because he was a magical moron, he was tricked. Perhaps he shouldn't have trusted Autumn Allium, but he wanted to believe that ponies were good, even the bad ones. He tried to puke, only to find that his stomach had flown south. When he tried to breathe, his lungs simply winked out of existence. 

Then, as he stood there, gasping for air, the magenta glow crushed him into nothingness. 
> Twilightning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance discovered—much to his own dismay—that he did not like being squeezed and squirted out of a tube. Reality had a magenta tint that went beyond mere colour and was more of a sensation. Yes, the sensation of magenta, which rather felt like having a backed up sneeze while also being squishy-squirted out of a tube. Only instead of a tube of toothpaste, this was a tube of lightning—magenta lightning—and Sundance rode the arc as he was extruded from wherever it was that he was. He had no idea where he was, or if he was even alive. 

The purply-pink lightning bolt speared the ground and released a thunderous explosion that threatened to tear the very fabric of reality. Sundance—who had leg bones and organs again—found himself on the grass, wobbling about like a newborn foal. Sparrowhawk was just a few yards away, and seemed every bit as disoriented as he was. At least she wasn't screaming; she was probably too stunned to do so. Sensing that lightning would strike again, Sundance tried to will his legs into action, but he wasn't sure which direction to go. 

The air above him exploded and reality once more tore itself asunder. A ribbon of magenta lightning crackled into existence, and a sky truck glowing with dancing orbs of electrical energy appeared several yards over Sundance's head. Solid magenta light struck him, slapped him, a strong physical force that was far too rigid to be mere illumination, and he was shoved away from where he stood to a spot of safety just as the sky truck crashed down upon the spot of ground where he'd been standing just seconds before. 

Before he could recover, Sundance's pegasus-senses warned him that more lightning was coming. On rubbery legs he wobbled over to where Sparrowhawk was, and using his own body, he tried to shield her from whatever was about to happen next. Vivid purple-pink squiggles danced on the surface of his retinas and everything around him blazed with aetherfire. The spot where he'd appeared was scorched and blackened, fried to a crisp. 

Just as another pony popped into existence, Sundance vomited up what remained of his lunch of beans. As he retched into the grass, Sparrowhawk began screaming once more, there was another concussive blast of lightning, and a second pony appeared several yards away. Still puking, Sundance raised his wing to shield his eyes from the blinding brilliance, and as his stomach turned itself inside out, his senses told him that even more lightning was on its way. 

Blinded, unable to see, and his body convulsing as he emptied his guts, Sundance could not make out the pony that approached. Somehow, over the deafening ring in his ears he heard a somewhat familiar voice say, "Sleep now." Mere seconds later, Sparrowhawk's screeching came to an abrupt end. Another bolt of lightning arced down and the following thundercrack almost dunked Sundance into his own puke puddle. 

But something saved him and kept him upright. 

"My daughter has lousy aim," the familiar voice said. "Where are we, anyhow? This isn't where we need to be."

Then, Sundance heard the sound of another pony retching. 

"Boss, I can't feel my toes." 

"Wormwood, you don't have toes—" 

"Oh no, Boss! Where'd my toes go? What did Twilight do?" 

"Wormwood, get that sky truck on its wheels. We're going to need it." 

"Sure thing, Boss." 

"Night Light, get Buttermilk up on her hoofsies. Copper, quit lazing about in the grass, this is no time for sunbathing. Somepony please try to figure out where we are. I hope we're not lost in the boonies. We need a teapot and civilisation right away." 

Now stricken with dry heaves, there was nothing left for Sundance to spew, but his body insisted on trying anyway. Multi-coloured blobs of light danced in his vision and his sides cramped horrendously. When he almost pitched over into his own puddle of sick a second time, he was once more held up by a warm, tingly force. 

"Lord Sundance, the cavalry has arrived. Just as soon as we've sorted out where we are, we'll do our best to get you home." 



 

Makeshift curtains hung over the windows of the infirmary, a quick and hasty fix by Night Light. A temporary bandage was wrapped around Sundance's leg, and the flap of skin beneath would be sewn up later. Sparrowhawk—still damp from a much needed bath—lay in a blissful sleep, untroubled, and free of terror. Sitting on a wooden chair, Corduroy absentmindedly scratched at her own stomach while she sat in quiet contemplation. In the bed beside Sundance, little Tarantula sat with wide eyes, and watched all the goings on in silence. He had himself a tummy ache and was quite alarmed by the sudden arrival of so many. 

Doubled over, Copperquick clutched at his stomach and groaned with every breath taken. He hadn't quite recovered from the teleportation incident, and if truth be told, Sundance hadn't either. The others were fine though, and he rather resented them for their quick recovery. It was quiet, perhaps too quiet, but Sundance was thankful for the time to recover. He had questions, a great many questions, and all things considered, he was rather peeved with Twilight Velvet right now. He hoped that answers would be forthcoming. 

There was a faint pop that startled him, and Sundance watched as a scroll tube materialised in a wash of green fire over Night Light's head. Before it could fall down and strike him, the blue stallion caught it, opened it, unrolled it, and had himself a look at it. His eyes darted back and forth as he read, and his expression became one of absolute relief. 

"Yam and Azure have made it out of the city and are on a train to Canterlot. The whereabouts of Mister Teapot are unknown, but we must assume that he will follow the plan. The Wardens are already preparing for everything that comes next." 

"You used me," Sundance said to Twilight Velvet. 

"I did," she replied without hesitation. "And I owe you an explanation. Oh, and gratitude. And maybe even a medal." 

"I don't want a medal," he said to her in as sulky of a tone as he dared muster. "But an explanation would be nice." 

"You became a last-minute addition to a plan put into motion some time ago," Twilight Velvet said as she reached out and stroked little Tarantula. "It was Copperquick's idea. He deserves the credit for this." 

In response, Sundance asked, "Are you saying this is his fault? Are you throwing him under the wagon?" 

The twinkly-eyed mare chuckled; it was more of a relieved sound than amused. "Copper had a brilliant plan. I would never throw him under the wagon, I depend upon him far too much." 

"She does," Copperquick groaned. "Couldn't do her job without me." 

"That's true." Nodding her head in agreement, Twilight Velvet reiterated her statement. "That's absolutely true." 

Another scroll burst into existence over Night Light's head. This one too, was caught, opened, and read, only this time, nothing was said. But the blue stallion frowned and seemed just a bit distraught by whatever the message had to say. Sundance thought about asking, but didn't—he didn't know what to ask or how to ask it, and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to know. 



 

"To understand what happened, you have to understand what brought this about." With little Tarantula held in her forelegs, Twilight Velvet seemed right at home in the simple wooden chair. She kissed the donkey foal on top of his head, gave him a gentle hug, and then adjusted his position so that he could recline comfortably. "Forget all the spy stuff, here's the part that you'll understand. It's all bureaucracy." 

"Of course it is," Sundance replied matter-of-factly. 

"I have no real power in Fillydelphia. No real authority. No jurisdiction." Her face became neutral, but her eyes blazed with repressed fury. "I can't actually do my job. But, with regards to the asylum, it becomes infinitely more complicated. The Crown pays for thirty-three percent of the cost to operate, and the city of Fillydelphia pays the other sixty-six percent. When the agreement was hammered out over a hundred years ago, the terms and conditions were absolute. To keep things simple there was a distinct lack of weasel-words and wiggle room. 

"The city, paying a majority of the cost, was responsible for all inspections, audits, and all of the management of the asylum. At the time, I am sure this was a reasonable agreement, because it saved the Crown a lot of bits. The city was responsible for all of the administrative costs. But this also meant that representatives of the Crown were not allowed to interfere with the asylum… not unless we wanted to pay the majority share, or were at least willing to split the costs fifty-fifty. So the city was allowed autonomous administration, free of interference from the Crown." 

Little Tarantula, limp as a noodle, now slept in Twilight Velvet's embrace. 

"So, powerlessness was a cost-saving measure," Sundance remarked as Corduroy began to unwrap the bloody bandage around his foreleg. 

"The Crown had to trust that the city would hold up their end of the deal," Buttermilk said to Sundance. "Which they didn't. Obviously. When we first started to try and expand our influence to Fillydelphia, we encountered stiff resistance. On the surface level, there was a sense of cooperation. A big deal was made about how we were working together and the public ate it right up. But we couldn't actually do much of anything. The more digging we did, the more trouble we found. And we hadn't even uncovered the dirty deeds of the asylum, just the foal services in general. We found a river of corruption." 

"Which you were powerless to do much about," Sundance said when Buttermilk seemed finished. 

"Right," the bespectacled pegasus said. "There were similar agreements. The Crown paid thirty-three percent and the city kept majority costs. The filings were all boilerplates of the asylum contract. Which meant that we were not allowed to interfere unless we found hard evidence of wrongdoing." 

"And to crack down on the asylum, we needed indisputable proof of wrongdoing," Twilight Velvet said. "So we began to build a case. We've been at this for almost a year now." 

Pointing at her husband, Buttermilk said, "Copper had himself an idea to see if we could use the old laws as leverage somehow. The absolute laws. From back in the day when we believed that flexibility was a societal detriment. Copper found out that Princess Celestia technically owns every single pony in Equestria. That law has never actually been changed. But it was amended almost three-hundred years ago. Princess Celestia has special ownership over any asset that the Crown pays for. About two-hundred years ago, this got amended too. But specifically, the part that helps us is the fact that Princess Celestia owns ponies that are cared for through the Crown. 

"Copper found that property laws are pretty darn absolute, and with Princess Twilight's approval, we had custodial ownership of Sparrowhawk transferred to you, Sundance. On the court docs, we had it listed as an inheritance from your grandmother, and we used all of your filings to prove indisputable ownership. Absolute ownership. Which, admittedly, is messed up, but it gave us the ways and means to crack this case open. You, as the property owner, have the absolute right to retrieve your property." 

"There's an insider in the asylum that gave us access to Sparrowhawk's name and patient file," Twilight Velvet said as she took over the explanation. "According to the city, those files don't exist. But our informant gave us evidence that Sparrowhawk existed. With a name and evidence of existence, we gave ownership to you. It was just the break we needed. Without that, I don't think any of this would be possible." 

"And now that we have her," Wormwood said from where he sat in the corner, "we can look inside her head, find out all that's been done, and use it as evidence of wrongdoing." 

"But we're not the only ones who can peek inside of somepony's head," Twilight Velvet said to Sundance. "We know for certain that they have the ways and means to do the same. Our informant told us that. So we couldn't tell you of the plan. But that's not the only reason… I had my own concerns about filling you in." 

"And those were?" he asked. 

"You're a yes-pony," she replied with blunt honesty. "My concern was that if I told you of the plan you'd do anything to follow through. I had valid concerns about your sense of duty and how it might affect your judgment." 

With a sigh, Sundance considered these words, and as much as it bothered him, he knew them to be true. His sense of duty might have overrode his common sense. When Corduroy's paw pressed against his neck, he turned to look at her, but said nothing. It bothered him that he understood Twilight Velvet's reason. He'd done all of this for his own reasons, because it needed to be done. But if he'd gone in as if he were on a mission—well, he couldn't even imagine how differently all of this might have turned out. 

"I have to stitch this," Corduroy said without a trace of apologetic concern. 

"You were never in any real danger." Extending her wing, Buttermilk pushed her spectacles up her nose and then leveled them out. "Yam's talent is strange. We don't understand it. But he knew of your exact location the whole time. The extraction team was at the ready. But that would have been a terrible outcome, and might have been the match that ignites the powder keg that is Fillydelphia. Mister Teapot is not subtle. But he has experience in getting in and out of impossible places." 

"This is going to hurt," Corduroy whispered. "A lot. The skin is very thin and this is a bony place. Plus, the nerve cluster is right there. Would you like for me to put you under?" 

Sundance was quick to reply, "Yes please." 

"I am sorry to interrupt," Corduroy said to the others. "But this really must be done now." 



 

Sundance awoke to the sounds of soft conversation and was too groggy to open his eyes. His foreleg ached, but he did his best to ignore it. Iodine tickled his nose and made him want to sneeze. With his senses dulled, it was difficult to make out what was being said, and who said it. The flavour of cotton was on his tongue, as well as some bitter, almost metallic taste. He was thirsty, but he didn't wish to reveal that he was awake just yet. 

"—while I understand why you did what you did, that doesn't change the fact that you sent him into danger." 

"I know. I know exactly what I did." 

"I'm willing to agree that it was necessary, but I don't have to like it. Sundance is many things, but he's not a warrior." 

Eyes closed, Sundance still somehow managed to wince. 

"Which is why he was perfect for the job." 

There was a soft half-growl, half-sigh. 

"No, hear me out. Sundance had the best chance of walking out of there without trouble. At least, that's my opinion. The odds were good. He's a pleasant, agreeable sort. I knew that he had it in him to talk his way out of this. This outcome was dependent upon his passive, agreeable nature." 

"And I suppose this was the best possible outcome." 

"Well, the alternatives are a bunch of ponies getting hurt. Or failing to extract Sparrowhawk. Corduroy, forgive me, but I don't think you fully appreciate what Sundance is capable of. For him to have completed his project… do you have any idea how many officious bureaucrats he had to deal with to do what he did? For all of his passiveness, he has remarkable tenacity. Perhaps too much." 

"Which is why you didn't fill him in on the mission." 

"Correct. Sundance, for all his desire to do good, is still entirely too green." 

"Yeah, he kinda is." 

Again, Sundance winced. 

"Like Twilight, Sundance lived a sheltered existence. He had his project, which no doubt consumed his life. Also like Twilight, he's since come out swinging, and is ready to take on the whole world, without quite realising that the world is ready to take on him. He's going to learn the hard way as he goes, just like Twilight did. He has no concept of his own limitations." 

"That's true. But there is something about Sundance believing that anything is possible that makes me believe it too. He's my friend. If something would have happened to him…" 

"That's the hardest lesson of both friendship and motherhood, Corduroy. When I found out that Twilight had gone off to pick a fight with Nightmare Moon, I just about lost my mind. I was a worldly mare, ready for anything. Any crisis. But I wasn't ready for that. Twilight had a nose for trouble, and she was constantly in over her head in situations that she could barely comprehend. I lived a very tense existence for quite some time." 

"Sundance, would you like a glass of water?" asked Corduroy. 

A startled whimper escaped Sundance's lips. 

"I heard your heart rate change a few minutes ago and I've been waiting for you to say something." 

"Uh…" Sundance croaked. "I would very much like a glass of water… and maybe a cup of tea." 



 

Upright once more, Sundance sipped his cup of tea and thought about the events of the day. It was late afternoon now, though with the windows covered, it was difficult to tell. His head ached a bit; not so much a hooligan headache as it was the aftereffects of stress. But, all things considered, he felt good about himself, even if he was still unsettled by how it all happened. 

Night Light sat at the infirmary table with a pile of dispatches beside him. His face was tired, his eyes were sad, and his withers slumped as if there were some great weight upon his back. Beside him, Twilight Velvet was busy writing something, and her face was wizened from concentration. The scratching of a pen against paper made Sundance's ears twitch. 

Wormwood was a huge, imposing figure, a mountain of a pony. Like River Raider, he was a nocturnal pegasus. Unlike River Raider, he was in full control of his talents. His reptilian eyes were focused on Sundance, and he sat in the corner on the floor because no chair was big enough or strong enough to support his bulk. For all of his intimidating features, there was something friendly about the ginormous brute, and Sundance decided that he was likeable. 

"Are you ready?" asked Wormwood. 

"My head is still pretty foggy," Sundance replied. 

"I'll be able to see through all that without problem." 

"Before we do this, I have something I want to say." 

"Go ahead." 

"I don't want you poking around inside of Sparrowhawk's head without her consent. If she says no, that's it. That's final. I'll not go against her wishes. I don't care if that ruins your carefully laid plans." 

Twilight Velvet's head swiveled around and her pen clattered against the table. 

"It's fine if you look inside my head. But I should tell you up front, I've done some things that I'm ashamed of today. Maybe they were necessary. I don't know. Haven't sorted that out just yet." Then, noticing how Twilight Velvet stared at him, he asked, "Are you upset, Mrs. Velvet?" 

"On the contrary," she replied. "I'm very proud of you." 

"That's uh, uh, uh… well, that's a relief, actually." 

"Really, I am. What you did just now was admirable." 

"Why, thank you, I guess?" 

She picked up her pen and replied, "Things will work out one way or another." Then, she turned around and resumed her writing. 

At first, Sundance felt nothing, but then there was something. He thought about his psychic awakening, and then, for the very first time since his return home, he wondered if his crystal tree had changed. Like a foal at Hearth's Warming, he was eager to discover if anything had changed, but that would have to wait. Right now, things still had to be sorted out. There was a shadow in his mind, and he did nothing to hide from it. 

"Boss… there's something you should know…" 

"What's that, Wormwood?" 

"Sundance sees everything, and his eyes picked up a lot of details. But that's not what you should know, Boss." 

"Wormwood, would you please just get to it?" 

"He threatened to stuff a mare's head up another pony's"—there was a brief pause—"wazoo." 

"The wazoo you say." 

"Yeah, Boss. The wazoo. And worse, he meant it. Deep within his psyche, he meant it." 

"Duly noted, Wormwood." 

The draconic pegasus smirked. "You bluffed your way out. That's impressive for a pony that's never really done that before. I'd imagine that you looked pretty convincing. I mean, that filly just chomped down on your leg… and you didn't even drop to the floor. Most ponies would have been on the floor bawling from that. I'm impressed." 

"Um, thank you?" 

"Pegasus ponies are creatures of immense perception," Wormwood said as his eyes glazed over. "Most of the time, they're not even aware of all the details they take in. Boss, we have a lot to sort though. A lot to work with. The Night Lady will want to see this." 

"All in good time, Wormwood. All in good time." 

"They threatened to take him hostage, Boss." 

"Juicy," Twilight Velvet replied as her pen scratched away. 

"And they threatened to wipe his mind." 

"Juicier. Technically, we don't even need Sparrowhawk now, but she'll be the icing on the cake. If she consents." 

Breathing through his nose, Sundance sipped from the cup of tea held between his front hooves. 

"A lot of ponies are missing ears," Wormwood remarked. 

"Careful," Sundance said as tea dribbled down his lip, "she bites." 
> Future vision
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The soft sound of muffled laughter graced the infirmary. Sparrowhawk, now wide-awake but still rather groggy, was completely and utterly fascinated by Tarantula. While it was adorable to watch, it caused a lot of tension for Sundance, who was afraid of all of the awful things that could happen. She touched him, stroked him, petted him, and even sniffed him. While Sundance watched with apprehension, Twilight Velvet and Copperquick appeared to do so with relaxed ease. Tarantula seemed to enjoy the attention and the affection, and wasn't scared at all. 

But the little burro hadn't been bitten by the pegasus filly. 

Foreleg throbbing, his guts knotted from stress, Sundance wished that he could just relax. That he could unwind. Unkink. But this day, as long as it was, wasn't done with him just yet, and there was still a lot of day left to go. There were earless ponies, a testament to Sparrowhawk's ferocious nature, and Sundance did not want a burro with a missing ear. Yet, for all of his fear and apprehension, he could not deny that she was gentle—though she was clumsy. 

"Sparrow"—the tone that Copperquick spoke with was one uniquely suited for speaking to foals—"when was the last time you were allowed to play with another pony?" 

A dark cloud passed over the filly's face and something about her demeanour momentarily changed. She shrugged, but was quick to recover. Reaching out, she grasped Tarantula's fetlock, held it, and then began to examine his hoof as if Copperquick's question had never happened. Twilight Velvet and Copperquick exchanged a glance with one another, and then the both of them looked over in Wormwood's direction. 

"Sparrow… tell me… do you feel safe right now?" asked Copperquick. 

Eyes bright, curious, she looked up from Tarantula's hoof and her eyes darted around the room. Copperquick and Twilight Velvet were given quick, cursory examinations, and then she moved on to Corduroy. This didn't last long either. When she looked at Wormwood however, her eyes lingered, and her lower lip half-puckered in concentration. Then, at last, she looked at Sundance, and blinked at him whilst she shrugged. 

"My friend over here"—Copperquick gestured in Wormwood's general direction as he spoke—"would very much like to have a look inside of your head. He would like to see what has happened to you, so that we might be able to help you. We need to know what was done to you." 

Keen intelligence glittered in Sparrowhawk's eyes, even though her expression remained groggy. She gripped Tarantula—hard enough to make him whimper for a second—but her sudden embrace wasn't violent. No, Sundance saw it for what it was: protective. This was a defensive action. All of her feathers bristled and piloerection caused the hair along her spine to rise into fluffy curls. When Tarantula realised that he was safe, and that everything was fine, he relaxed and leaned into Sparrowhawk, who encircled her forelegs around the smaller colt's neck. 

"Well, this is a good sign," Twilight Velvet whispered, "she's capable of empathy." 

"Will they get in trouble?" Sparrowhawk's question was somehow vague yet also right to the point. 

"Yes, Snugglebump. We want to get them into trouble, but to do that, we need to see what they've done." Copperquick's tone was one of urgent trust and infinite kindness. "We're not going to do anything to your mind. Nothing at all. We just want to look." 

Unable to stop himself, Sundance voiced his objections. "I don't know if this is right. We're… this… we're getting her to agree for the wrong reasons." 

"She's consenting—" 

"Mrs. Velvet, I know. But it feels wrong to get her to agree out of… whatever this is." 

"Revenge?" Twilight Velvet suggested. 

"Yeah, it feels like that, but not like that." 

"Sundance… are you going to override her sense of free agency because you object?" 

"Uh… well… I don't know. I'd really rather not. Look, I know how this makes me look. I'm the one that said something about making sure we have her consent. I just wish that we got it for better reasons." 

"And you're a good pony for having those concerns," Copperquick was quick to say. 

"That doesn't make me feel better," Sundance said. 

"Wormwood joined me so that he could help foals that have been hurt or abused. Not all of them can talk about it." With her lips pressed tight together, Twilight Velvet inhaled, and then continued, "This is our primary means of finding out. Sundance, what would you like for us to do?" 

"Keep going," he replied after a brief moment spent on internal debate. "Don't mind me. I've had a rough day." 

Sparrowhawk relaxed her grip on Tarantula, but not by much. The colt didn't seem to mind however, if his pleasant smile was anything to go by. Sundance watched the pair and did all he could to sort out his own feelings. All of them. There were so many of them. He was no parent. Why, he wasn't even in a relationship. For most of his life, the only life he'd been responsible for was his own, and now, the lives of many had become his responsibility. It felt as though he'd skipped a step of development. He'd gone from one extreme to another, with no period of adjustment in between. 

"If I don't get my medicine, I'll get sick," Sparrowhawk said with abrupt suddenness. "I don't wanna be sick." 

"Are you starting to feel sick right now?" asked Twilight Velvet. 

The pegasus filly nodded, then replied, "They gave me a lotta medicine when he arrived." 

Lips pursed, Twilight Velvet adopted a thoughtful posture. 

"They did mention that whatever they gave her was wearing off," Sundance remarked. 

A light sheen of perspiration could now be seen on Twilight Velvet's brow. 

Sundance, unable to bear it, spilled out of his own bed, scuttled across the floor, crawled up into the bed beside his, and then scooped up the two foals. Sparrowhawk seemed a bit startled, but had no adverse reaction. Tarantula however, did not mind at all, and yawned as he got resettled. Sundance, who felt the need to spread his wings and puff out, somehow managed to restrain himself, and lay on his stomach with the foals situated in front of him. 

"Alright, Sparrowhawk… we're going to begin. I am going to ask you a series of questions, and my friend Wormwood is going to peek inside of your mind." Copperquick's voice was a flat, soothing monotone. "Now be a brave girl…" 



 

The sun raced westward at a snail's pace, as the sun was wont to do. Sundance—shaken like a proper maretini—looked to the west and tried to make sense of everything that had happened today. His worldview was forever changed, though for the better or worse was unknown. To his left, Twilight Velvet also watched the sun as it sank towards the distant horizon, and she seemed no less shaken than he was. She didn't even try to hide it, which was somehow comforting as well as troubling. 

On the ground, the lengthening shadows reached for them like greedy fingers, and Sundance's own shadow was distorted beyond all recognition. They stood together atop the promontory point where the old lord's tower once stood, which gave them a spectacular view of everything in all directions. From up here, one could see for miles, and even the majestic Canterhorn was clearly visible. It acted like a sundial and cast its shadow down upon the plains below. 

"I don't know if I can help her," he said at last, unable to bear the silence. "She needs professional help." 

To which Twilight Velvet replied, "I think that filly has had enough professional help for a while." 

"She hasn't seen the sun for years," Sundance said, almost whispering, almost whining. "Drug addiction… I don't know a thing about drug addiction. I mean, other than all the stuff my mother has said about addicts. When you gave her a cookie, she didn't know what it was. All she's eaten for the past few years is grey goop. There is no way I can fix all these things." 

"I believe that you can—" 

"What if I can't?" 

"Sundance, I'd hoped that you would have learned something today," she sighed while she cast a sidelong glance in his direction. "If you get in trouble, the cavalry will come. If there is ever a point that you cannot help her, help will be sent. You've proven yourself, so you are a partner now. An ally. If professional help is needed, then professional help will be sent. But… for now… she needs some time to adjust. Foals are resilient, Sundance. What she needs is to learn how to be a pegasus, and she can learn that from you." 

"I'm not much of a pegasus—" 

"How dare you say that about yourself," she snapped in return. 

"It's true. I don't go around acting like a buffoon and trying to show off my wingspan to everypony I meet." 

"Prince Gosling would be mortally wounded to hear you say that." 

"See, that's my point." 

"Fluttershy isn't like other pegasus ponies either," Twilight Velvet said to Sundance. "She's the Element of Kindness… which pretty much defies every stereotype about pegasus ponies being brutes." 

"You should have her look after Sparrowhawk." 

"As reasonable as that sounds… no. No. No, that's not going to happen. Because I'm not going to let another student do your homework for you. Sundance, you have a lot to learn." 

"Learning involves mistakes," he said with the hopes that the stubborn mare beside him might see reason. "Sparrowhawk isn't some project. Well… she's been a project… they cut her open and poked around inside of her brain… my point is, she deserves better than some fumbling goof that doesn't know what he's doing. I'm in way over my head right now." 

"Have you considered that it might be a good thing if Sparrowhawk was more like you and less like Prince Gosling?" 

In response, Sundance replied, "Prince Gosling would be mortally wounded to hear you say that." 

"Like it or not, she's imprinted on you. That can't be undone." She paused, bit her lip for a short time, and then added, "Well, it can. But I won't allow that to happen. If she's imprinted on you, it's for a reason. I don't want to come right out and say that it's destiny, but it's probably destiny related." 

"Fine. Whatever. If that's how things have to be… then here I am. The Yes-Pony at your service. I'll have you a second Yes-Pony to do your bidding, right away, ma'am." 

With a snort, Twilight Velvet's expression turned deadpan. 

"Is there a problem?" asked Sundance.

"I didn't get what I wanted," she replied. 

"Well, what exactly did you want?" he asked. 

"I wanted the pony that strode into some dank asylum and then emerged without significant violence. He's an incredible pony and shows a lot of potential. Equestria needs more of him." 

Defeated, Sundance slumped. His back sagged, his ears dropped, and his wings hung limp against his sides. His surrender came out in the form of a soft sigh, and his tail swished around to slap at flies that were not there. Though he would not admit it—not aloud, anyhow—she had a point. And that point was as stabby as it was painful. It was an unpleasant point and Sundance was keenly aware of it as it pierced his heart. 

"Buttermilk did her wellness checks, and interviewed the wee ones in your care… as well as the prisoner. It's a little early, but we were here. The wee ones in your care are happy, well adjusted, and want to be here. None of them want to leave. As for your prisoner, I think we can safely assume that she is reformed. She has purpose now, and she is starting to come around to a better way of thinking as well as behaving. Like the little ones in your care, she has no desire to leave. She understands her importance here." 

In silence, Sundance listened; defeated as he was, he had no words to say. 

"In light of all that, and for your service to the Crown, I am giving your barony Prefered status. It means that you are a competent caretaker. With this new status, you'll be rewarded—" 

"Please, don't reward me for just doing my job." 

"You are doing your job, and that's the point," Velvet said in a firm voice. "If more ponies did their jobs, this wouldn't be necessary. I wouldn't be necessary. My job wouldn't be necessary. Today, you met some ponies that weren't doing their job… which means we had no choice but to do ours." 

She sidestepped closer, raised her head, and glanced upwards at Sundance. 

"With this new status, you'll be incentivised to do better. Prefered status is the bottom rung. You'll be getting supplies and resources. You've earned them. Crates of books, toys, educational supplies, arts and crafts supplies, and several tons of food and nutritional supplements—" 

"Tons?" he interrupted. 

"A guesstimate," she said without annoyance. "It has to last a year. You have a lot of young and elderly in your care. You'll get cereals and vitamin-enriched drink mixes. Snacks and sweets of a healthy sort… things like apple chips and pear chips. Dehydrated fruit snacks. A whole host of nutritionally boosted convenience foods." 

He nodded in acknowledgement. 

"With Prefered status, we'll expect more of you. Our demands will be higher. This means education. Cultural enrichment. Going beyond just basic care and sustenance. Do all the right things and you'll have Important status, which means even more food and resources allocated to you. It means that you can be trusted with these resources, and that these resources will actually help those in your care, and not be used for your own enrichment or betterment." 

"And the third?" he asked. 

"Trusted status, which none yet have." 

"Cactus Creek?" 

"What about Cactus Creek?" 

"I'm surprised that they don't have it," he said to explain himself. 

"They're close, but no. Trusted status means at minimum ten years of perfect, trusted service." 

"Oh. I see." 

A half-smile finally appeared on Twilight Velvet's face. 

"Sundance, for you to have Trusted status, that would be a crown jewel for Princess Celestia. It's something to work for. You have a good caretaker. And you… you have a unique opportunity with Sparrowhawk. You have the land and the resources. There's nothing stopping you from trying. But not for Princess Celestia's glory… though she would be very proud. For your own. Consider it. Please. For your own sake." 

"This is not the direction that I thought my life would take," he said, mostly to himself. "Honestly, I never expected any of this in my life. I am just allowing things to happen. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should set a goal… for myself. Something to work for. So how do I get up to the next rung? I'm clueless." 

"Start a sports team. A chess club. Have your gang of tenacious tykes clean up garbage in a park. Do something noteworthy. Have them excel. Start up a Harmony Scout troop and earn every merit badge to be had under the sun, and a few secret ones that only exist under the moon. Have an artist with appreciable skill. Orphans have dreams… desires… they're just like other kids, but are severely disadvantaged. Help them overcome those disadvantages. Have just one of them achieve something extraordinary. That's the next rung." 

Restore Sparrowhawk to normalcy, he thought to himself. 

"I'm a treacherous mare," Twilight Velvet said with a broad smile spread across her face. "Truth be told, I'll probably use you again. You'll be compensated. Sundance, things have to change, and we can't fight fair. All of the attempts to fight fair have changed very little of what needs changing. Today, we fought dirty, and tomorrow, there will be tremendous fallout. Some bad things might happen in the short term. But in the long term, we've done good. And I couldn't have done it without you." 

Then, after a moment of consideration, she added, "Well, I probably could have. But it wouldn't have been a peaceful resolution. The events of today were the best possible outcome, I feel. The plan was made up as we went along, but it worked out. Due in no small part to you. I'd like for us to continue working together… and with that said, I'd like to confess to you that I'm a difficult mare to work with." 

"You might be," Sundance said, agreeing, "but I understand why those closest to you are so loyal. At least, I think I do. You might have sent me into the lion's den, but you had a plan to get me out. Which does make me feel better. I do want us to work together. As partners." 

"I would very much like for us to be partners," was her warm response. 

"Everypony has their own plans for my barony," he said. "Did that come out wrong? Maybe it did. Anyhow… Rustic wants to build resorts and spas. And that's fine. We have to make money. The Crystal Empire will be building a hospital complex. Which is a good thing. For both of us. Twilight, your daughter, she wants to use my barony to secure her vision of the future… and I'm fine with that. While I've had a hoof in all the planning, and I am the administrator that makes everything happen, none of these are my plans. Not my projects. 

"But as you were saying… it might be nice to have a long term goal of my own." 

"While many of the nobles assist me, and offer help in a variety of ways, none of them are truly aligned with me," she said in a low whisper. "It's a cause worthy of charitable galas and grand social events. Break out the best wine and cheese, let's have a jolly good gala and congratulate ourselves on all the great things we're doing for the young of Equestria. I'm sickened by it. I've grown weary of parading around in pretty, frilly, lacy gowns and smiling my best, most practiced smile. While I am grateful for all that is done… I truly am…" Her words trailed off with a soft side to side shake of her head. 

"Canterlot is changing though, is it not?" he asked. 

"It is," she replied in a half-whisper. "But not fast enough to suit my needs. Gosling gets it, because he's lived in the inner-city. So he understands my urgency. But he's also buried beneath responsibilities. I have a few trusted allies, but they cannot fully commit themselves to my cause. It's frustrating. There's so much more I want to do. The coastal cities are rife with corruption and are in dire need of change." 

"I've already committed to so much," Sundance said to the older mare beside him. "I'm pulled in all directions as it is. But I will help you however I can. I can offer land, which is perhaps my best asset. If you build here, it will be in the heart of Equestria where you have the most control." 

"That… is extremely generous and probably more than I deserve after what I've done. Thank you, Sundance." 

"I understand why you did what you did, and even though I'm still a bit miffed, I can respect you for doing it." Then, Sundance reached down deep inside of himself, explored all of the dark, unseen places, and in a low voice that was little more than a whisper he added, "As lord of the land, we play by my rules. Do things my way. My way means accountability. I want ponies like Wormwood posted here for the sake of accountability. I'll not have sneaky, wretched, abusive stuff going on during my watch. If we build some big orphanage… and that's a big if… but if we do, the caretakers will be kept under total surveillance. This might not be the way my Great Grandmother might do things, but this is how I do things." 

"We have to trust ponies to do good—" 

"After today, I am short on trust," he said with a somewhat raised voice. 

"We can work something out," she said in return. "Ponies like Wormwood are in short supply." 

Sundance thought of the changelings and wondered how loyal they were. 

And then he wondered if they could take the form of innocent, helpless orphans. 

He smiled. 

That was a drastic measure, and not one that he would necessarily take. 

But if the situation demanded it… 

"How will you get home?" he asked. 

"I have a portal gem," she replied. 

He didn't know what that was, and he didn't bother to ask. There were too many other things on his mind. It would be a long night for certain, because he had plans to make. There was a lot to think about. The faint rumble of thunder distracted him, and his head swiveled about so that he might spot the storm. After a quick glance around, he saw no clouds, no dark skies, but he did see an ever-expanding circular rainbow spreading through the skies of the southeast. 

A fraction of a second later, a rainbow-maned and rainbow-tailed pegasus mare stood on the ground before him, and she folded up her wings with daredevil nonchalance. With a flick of her tail, she had a look around, was clearly not at all impressed by what she saw, and then she turned to face Twilight Velvet. 

"It took me a few seconds to find this place, otherwise I'd've been here sooner," she said. 

"Miss Dash… really. Must you boast?" 

"Yes," the rainbow-maned pegasus replied without a second of hesitation. 

"What brings you here, Miss Dash?" asked Twilight Velvet. 

"Well, today turned out to be pretty boring," the sky blue pegasus replied. "The Mare Do Well was all set up to fight an asylum full of goons and mooks. She was promised that there would be mooks. But that turned out to be a wash." With a stomp of her front right hoof, she turned to face Sundance. "I suppose this is your fault. Good job." 

He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. 

"It wasn't a total waste of a day though," she said. "By sheer chance, Captain Equestria and the Mare Do Well stumbled upon some of Ahuizotl's mooks that were scoping a place out for a heist. Captain Flower Power recognised one of them because of a very distinct burn one of them had. He went over to say hello and that was when the trouble started." 

"And where is Mister Teapot right now?" Twilight Velvet asked in a tone short on patience. 

"Giving a statement to the police," the blue pegasus replied. "I don't have the patience to deal with the police. All that paperwork and interviewing. I flew off and left him with the mess." 

"The Element of Loyalty strikes again." 

"Hey!" the pegasus whined. "That's unfair. That stuff is really boring. Bores me to tears." 

"He recognised a burn?" asked Sundance, who just had to know.

"Yeah…" The blue pegasus grinned. "Dropping a burning piano on a pony leaves behind some very distinct burns. It's the red-hot piano wire. Leaves behind a bunch of lines." 

"A burning piano?" Twilight Velvet shook her head in horrified disgust. 

"That was Vinyl's fault. Look, we were having a party to celebrate some major literary award that Miss Yearling received, and we were having a good time, and then all of a sudden a bunch of Ahuizotl's goons showed up to crash the party, and Vinyl was tipsy, and she cast a fireball, and then the piano was on fire, and then Tarnish shoved the burning piano off of the edge of the mezzanine and right onto a monologuing mook that just had to give us a big speech about his nefarious plans and told us in explicit detail what he was going to do to each and every one of us." 

"I suppose the piano cut him off," Twilight Velvet remarked. 

"It did," the pegasus replied. "In the worst way. Made a terrible ruckus. Plus, we didn't get back the security deposit from the hotel. I paid for most of that out of my own money. You know, come to think about it, I'm still kinda upset." 

"I would imagine so, Miss Dash." 

"So, how did you manage to get out?" asked the blue pegasus. "Did you pound their faces into pudding?" She punched the air with one of her front hooves, and then made a few jabs. "Was there incredible violence? Did you get to throw down and make your daring escape? Did you turn mooks into mook-jelly? Did you get to show off your hoof-fu?" 

Shrugging, Sundance replied, "I just talked my way out." 

"You threatened to cram a mare's head up another pony's posteriour." Twilight Velvet's deadpan expression revealed no emotion, absolutely nothing at all. 

"A pegasus has got to do what a pegasus has got to do. And this pegasus needs to get to Manehattan. I have a busy night ahead. See ya!" 

Before Sundance could respond, he was almost sucked into an implosive wake, and so was Twilight Velvet. Both of them stood there, blinking, manes mussed, and trying to recover from the abrupt departure of the blue pegasus, who was now a faint blue speck heading northeast. Rippling rainbows trailed behind her, and a dull thud shook the barony as the mouthy mare rainboomed away at rocket speed. 

"I was unaware that Mister Teapot brought a friend to extract you," Twilight Velvet said to Sundance. "It's probably for the best that you talked your way out. She would have talked your ear right off and given you all kinds of terrible advice about what to do in that situation." 

"What do you think she's off to do in Manehattan?" he asked. 

"I would imagine that some ponies are about to have a bad, bad night," was the middle-aged mare's response. 

"I think I need another cup of tea," Sundance said to Twilight Velvet. 

"I think I do as well," she replied. "And afterwards, I think I must be going."
> The wind flies hairy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As always, there was much to do. Dawn broke with shrieks, screams, and hoots. Some had roosters to signal the start of the day; Sundance had owls of a unique and perverse type. For a time, he considered sending an army of owls to 'sing' outside of Twilight Velvet's window, but then he thought better of it. Something that drastic might get him a reputation. Which, all things considered, might not be a bad thing. He did, after all, need a reputation. But he wanted to choose the shadow he cast with utmost care and consideration. 

Perched atop a splintery wooden fence post, a grizzled old owl nipped and ripped off bits of a rabbit held in its talons. It was gory, and gross, and awful to see, but Sundance made himself look at it for as long as he could. Then, he would turn away, allow his stomach to settle, and when he felt better, he would look once more. At the moment, he wasn't looking, but was attempting to calm his rising gorge. 

He was not a warrior; this troubled Sundance, and he very much wanted to rectify this situation. That was the plan now. Become a warrior. Learn to fight. Be a better pegasus. There were javelins to learn to throw, and Lucky, the pony shoe axe. Which was currently in his room, a poor location if ever there was an emergency. Litany had a very fashionable and fearsome mace—a fascinating accessory—so perhaps it was time for him to adopt a few accoutrements of accostment. Yes, he would be a pegasus with terrifying appurtenances so others would see that he was a warrior. 

With a turn of his head, he watched the old veteran owl eat for at least fifteen seconds. 

That had to be a record. 

It wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't so much blood dribbling down the fence post. 

Such a messy eater. 

"Sundance! Oh, Sundance! Yoohoo! Sundance! Corduroy needs you to foalsit for a while so she can have some breakfast and look after her own needs! You're needed in the infirmary!" 

"I'll be right there," he half-shouted in response. 

"But she's hungry now! It was a long night!" 

"I said that I'll be right there!" 

He cast a final glance at the owl, shuddered, and then turned about to go to the infirmary. 



 

Corduroy departed as Sundance entered, and she patted him on top of the head in passing. She moved with great speed; very much like a dog wanting breakfast, which she was. Not a moment was wasted. It was cool within the infirmary, and Sundance was quick to close the door behind him, because even a brief glimpse of open sky was quite distressing for Sparrowhawk. 

There were two pegasus foals on the bed. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked Silent Thunder. 

"He can't talk," Sparrowhawk said. 

"I'm aware." Sundance looked down at the pair, leaned in, and asked, "You got volunteered to keep her company, didn't you?" He watched as the colt's head bobbed once, and then he nodded himself. "Have you had breakfast? 

The colt shook his head no. 

"Poor little guy. Think you'll live?" 

There was a rustle of feathers when Silent Thunder shrugged. 

Sparrowhawk was a bit sweaty, Sundance noticed, and there was something off with her eyes, though he could not say what it was. Corduroy was probably well-aware of whatever was happening, though Sundance still worried. The pair of pegasus foals were awfully cute together, though Sundance could say nothing about that. He was a stallion—a pegasus—and he wanted to be a warrior, so such things simply could not be said. But he did allow himself a smile, however. 

"I had dreams last night," Sparrowhawk said. 

"You did?" 

"There was a blue mare and she sang to me. She told me that everything would be alright." Then, after a moment of staring up at Sundance, she added, "I can't remember having dreams before. Maybe I did and I don't remember. But this was strange." 

It was obvious to Sundance that Princess Luna couldn't reach Sparrowhawk before, but could now. This came as a relief to him, a bit of much-needed reassurance that everything would somehow be fine. Perhaps Princess Luna could help fix whatever was wrong. Maybe time and sunshine would fix the filly—but Sundance had his doubts. Still, there were hopeful signs and reasons to be optimistic. 

"I have a book," Sparrowhawk said. "But I can't read." 

"A book you say." 

She pointed at the small, simple table at the head of the bed. 

Sundance went over, looked down, and saw a book with a blue cover. A primer, from the looks of it. The Alphabet of Friendship it said in bright yellow letters. There was a highly stylised picture of Princess Twilight Sparkle, with slender pointy hooves and beady, round eyes that were in no way terrifying to Sundance, not even in the slightest. Her crown appeared to be made of cardboard and tinfoil, and she was surrounded by all manner of sundry items. 

With near-feline fluidity, Sundance lept up onto the bed, turned himself about, pulled the two foals closer, settled in, and lifted up the book with his left wing. Then, he had himself a look inside, waited for the two little ones to stop squirming, and he allowed himself to feel good about himself because he was about to be a responsible adult. There seemed to be a shortage of responsible adults, so it fell upon his shoulders to take up the slack. 



 

"A is for Applejack," he read aloud. "Yeehaw! That pony sure does love apples." On the page, there was an earth pony with a lasso, a dog, and a broad-brimmed hat. "The Element of Honesty, Applejack can always be counted on to tell the truth." 

"What's an apple?" asked Sparrowhawk, who wore a mystified expression of discomfort. 

Silent Thunder reached out his small hoof and using the edge of it, tried to point at the red fruit in the illustration. Sundance was far more concerned about the fact that Sparrowhawk didn't know what apples were, on top of the fact that she could not read. This was going to be one of those days. He allowed himself a bit of a sigh, pulled Sparrowhawk a little bit closer, and took a moment to think of a suitable response. 

"I'll get you an apple later," he promised. Then, with a heavy heart, he continued his efforts to be a good pony worthy of his Great Grandmother's favour. 

"B is for barn," he read from the next page. "The place where Applejack was born. A barn is a place to store food, keep animals, and to have dances and parties. Barns are full of fun!" 

Sundance, who had a barn, thought about it for a moment. Not much fun could be had in there. It was a cave that went deep underground. It was dry, rather cool, dark, and for the life of him, he couldn't imagine trying to throw a party in there. Maybe a more traditional barn might be nicer, but he doubted it. You had to be careful where one stepped, because cows and goats and chickens left behind a real mess. Dancing? A rave in the cave? No way. Not unless one enjoyed the music of echoing cow flatulence. 

He turned the page and saw a picture of Princess Celestia sitting in a bubble bath with her rubber duckie. 

"C is for Celestia, the perfect, pretty pony princess. She raises the sun and rules the magical land of Equestria. If you want to make friends, be just like Celestia and take a bath. Bubbles are good clean fun!" 

On the other page to the right of Celestia's, there was the entry for D, which read, "D is for donkey. If you ever need a friend to listen, donkeys are all ears." 

The entry for donkey was rather short, but satisfying. Beneath the bold text was a donkey and an earth pony having a tea party, along with a bunch of cute, cuddly animals. Sundance wasn't sure why anypony would invite a duck for tea, and as for the bunnies, well, there was just no way that he was going to have bunnies over for tea. Although Sundance understood that such a ruse might be perfect for getting a whole bunch of rabbits into one place. 

Perhaps he would speak to Paradox about creating some invitations. 

With his wing, he turned the page, and then lowered the book a bit so the foals could have a better look. A map of Equestria could be seen on one page, and a familiar yellow pegasus that hugged a bear smiled shyly up at him from the other. The bear had a boo-boo, and a clean white bandage was wrapped around his paw. There were other injured animals too, including mice in teensy-weensy hospital beds. Off in the corner was a rainbow-maned pegasus who cuddled a wrinkly tortoise. 

"E is for Equestria," he said as he read from the page on the left. "A magical land shared by all. Three pony tribes founded Equestria, but there is plenty of room for all of our friends. The magic of Friendship keeps us strong!" 

Then, he read aloud from the page on the right. "F is for Fluttershy, a shy but sweet pony. She is always helping others and would never turn away a friend in need. Fluttershy is the Element of Kindness, and is a true, true friend indeed."

Just as Sundance was about to read about G for Giraffrica and all the blessed rain that fell there, he was interrupted by the door opening. Sulky ducked in and was quick to close the door behind her. She stood in front of the door, sheepish, with a somewhat dirty mouth and a mussed mane that hadn't been brushed this morning. Almost bashful, she extended one withered, stunted wing, waved, and then introduced herself. 

"I'm Sulky Goldshoe and today, I'm going to be your special foalsitter. Corduroy has to go and check on another patient and get stuff done. So I am here at your command. I'm about to be a mom, so this is good practice for me. Or so Hoppy says. She might be right, but I ain't about to be the one that tells her." 

Sparrowhawk leaned into Sundance and said nothing. 

He nudged her, not to push her away, but to reassure her. "You can trust her, Sparrow. Look. She looks like a duck." 

"Quack," Sulky quacked, because quickly quacking quackily was the only appropriate response. 

"What's a duck?" asked Sparrowhawk. 

Before anypony could answer, before anything could be said, Silent Thunder broke his silence. Which is to say that he belched. With gusto. Almost right away, Sparrowhawk began to giggle, and when the filly giggled, so too, did Sulky. As for Silent Thunder, he seemed quite surprised by his own outburst, but he was quick to recover his confidence. Then, as little pegasus foals were prone to do, he struck a prideful pose. 

"Oh come on," Sundance said to the colt, whose ears drooped in anticipation of a good scold. "Surely, you can do better." 

Pride now pricked, Silent Thunder's ears shot upwards, his eyes narrowed, and with an almost boneless, nearly avian twist of his neck, he shot a glare up at Sundance. The little colt's feathers were now ruffled, both figuratively and literally. His exaggerated expressiveness said more than words ever could, and his bottom lip quivered with upset. He snorted, his tiny nostrils formed two round perfect circles, and his small wings twiddled against his sides. 

"He's not wrong," Sulky said, an obvious attempt to goad the colt into doing better. 

"Enunciate," Sundance suggested. "Open mouth, raise head, and open the airway." 

"And use your wings to pump it out." As she spoke, Sulky flapped her own wings as an example. "It's like crowing like a rooster. You gotta pump it out when you let fly. Every head in the room has to turn, otherwise, you've failed." 

Absolutely entranced, Sparrowhawk watched and listened without saying a word. 

She was a little sweatier now, twitchier perhaps as well, and Sundance could not help but think that she was sick somehow. Like when a pony had a fever. But she wasn't warm to the touch, no; she was clammy and had cool, damp skin. But, she was being brave, at least for now, and seemed to be having a nice time. He could not help but notice how she clung to others; him, Silent Thunder, and little Tarantula when he was present. She craved contact, was starved for it. Not violent contact, which she no doubt had plenty of, but gentle affection, which she was certainly capable of. 

With the rains of Giraffrica all but forgotten, Sundance had his mind on pegasus ponies. 

"My grandmother, Noonfire…" His words trailed off as his mind's eye showed him her grave. But after a gentle shake of his head, he found the means to continue. "Noonfire, she said that we pegasus ponies were masters of the wind. In much the same way that unicorns are the masters of magic. She never did mention what the earth ponies were masters of though…" Again he trailed off, and he thought about his mother and father. 

"But we're the masters of wind, she would tell me. The wind flows around us… and as my mother might say, sometimes it flows through us. As earth ponies walk along the ground, we walk upon the wind. We tread upon the secret places found within a storm, along the corridors of vortexes and we ride hidden currents. Like unicorns, we interact with the unseen and the invisible. You can't see the wind, but you can see the effects of the wind. She said a lot… but I can't remember it all. I wish I was smarter. All that stuff was important and she tried to teach me… but I was in a hurry to go and play. I wish I'd listened more." 

"I never heard nothing like that growing up," Sulky said to Sundance. "But I wish I had. The other pegasus ponies, they didn't want much to do with me." 

"Well, here in this place," Sundance was quick to say, "you're one of us. That's the rules. We stick together. You might not be able to fly"—he turned his attention to Silent Thunder—"and you might not be able to talk"—now he looked down at Sparrowhawk—"and you, you might have some trouble just going outside… but we're pegasus ponies. And we're going to stick together. Because that's what we do. That's our history. At least, that's what I know. Although we did spend a lot of time fighting each other, but that's beside the point. Uh, we're not going to fight each other. No biting." He maintained eye-contact with Sparrowhawk as he spoke these words. "Our job is to be the eyes and ears that keep others safe. Doesn't matter where we do it, on the ground or in the sky, or anywhere there is a need for a watchful eye." 

With a slight flapping of his wings, Silent Thunder let rip once more. It was vulgar, crude, and somewhat impressive that such a tremendous volume of sound could come forth from such a small, slight body. While intense, it was short-lived, as the tiny colt could only fill himself with so much air. Before Sundance could say anything, or even react, Sulky was offering up a helpful bit of critical critique. 

"Let go slow," she suggested. "Draw it out. Also, I don't know why, but crossing your eyes helps." 

"Sulky… are you trying to trick Silent Thunder into making a fool of himself?" asked Sundance. 

"Naw," was her hasty response. "It really does help. Try it yourself. Something about crossing your eyes changes the muscles and tensions in your head. I ain't schooled enough to explain it. Works though." 

Incredulous as he was, Sundance decided to try it. After all, it was just him and the kids. A few foals. Well, Sulky wasn't exactly a foal, but nor was she a mare. There was a grey area of uncertainty. But he did not think much of that, because he was swallowing a lot of air, just like his grandmother had taught him to do just before he made a dramatic dive where he lost a lot of altitude. All that air in his guts helped him from getting that weird, entirely-unpleasant pinched feeling in his innards. Of course, everything that went in had to go back out again—which is why pegasus ponies had a reputation for vulgarity. 

He crossed his eyes, stretched out his neck, allowed his jaw to drop open, pricked his ears tall, and then he clenched up all of his abdominal muscles. What came out of him was gurgly and gross; little Sparrowhawk pulled her body away even as her forelegs tightened their grip on him. The infirmary's windows rattled, the bed vibrated and shook, and the tinkling of glass could be heard as the contents of the medicine cabinet jostled about. 

When he was done, Sundance was quite proud himself. 

Also, crossing his eyes did in fact feel as though it made a difference. 

With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, Sulky said, "That… was disgusting. And awesome. Thank you, Baron Belch." 

For just a brief second, Sundance tensed; if that became his title—if that became what he was known for—what might that do for his reputation? All of his tension melted away though, because it didn't really matter. If that was his legacy, if that was all that ponies remembered about him after all of his hard work and his efforts, then so be it. He was too proud of himself to be bothered, and he decided that he would not allow his own insecurities to ruin what was a good time. 

"That was gross," Sparrowhawk said. "I wanna be able to do that." 

"You'll learn," he said to her, his words warm, sincere, and meaningful. "I'm going to teach you how to be a pegasus. But first, we have to get you well." 

There was a sigh from Sparrowhawk, and then she leaned up against Sundance once more. He felt her tremble against him; all of her muscles jerked and twitched in unpleasant ways. She also seemed a bit sweatier now, maybe a bit colder to the touch as well, and his concern for her grew considerably. Twilight Velvet was trusting him to restore her to good health. While he had a role to play in that endeavour, it mostly came down to Corduroy. He was confident in his decision to keep her as his nurse. She would pull though, even if he himself was doubtful about the outcome. 

From over where Sulky stood there was a sucking sound. No longer distracted, Sundance looked up and heard a faint wheeze as Sulky gulped in air. Much to his alarm and amusement, she kept going for far too long—far past the point where it was prudent to stop. Like a unicorn charging themselves up with magic, Sulky primed herself with gas. Sundance knew what was coming—at least he had some idea—and when Sulky's eyes crossed, he found himself waiting for something spectacular. 

What he got was a storm. 

The rotund filly's lips were a-quiver when she let go, and she did so with perfect form. Eyes crossed and bulging, wings pumping against her sides, her neck long, and her ears rocked back and forth, acting like two tiny, fuzzy pump handles. What came out of her was an almost concussive physical force; the bed rocked, the infirmary shook, and Sundance could feel his mane tugged upon by errant wind. But the sound. The sound. There was no description for the sound. It was an eldritch thing, unknowable, unfathomable, a dreadful horror that came up from the depths. Time and space were transcended, lost all meaning in the cosmic reverberation. 

Were he but ten years younger and a school colt once more, Sundance might've fallen in love. 

Mid-belch, if such a thing could even be called a belch, the infirmary door opened and Hoppy shoved her way inside, levitating a wooden tray loaded down with food. Eyes wide, horrified, and yes, thoroughly disgusted, she sidestepped away from Sulky whilst she cast a stern gaze of admonishment—which Sulky could not possibly see in her crosseyed state. And then, with all the suddenness that it had begun with, it was over. The eldritch gate closed, thus ending the sound and fury that spilled forth. 

Silent Thunder clapped with his small front hooves. 

"Just what is going on in here?" Hoppy demanded. "Sulky Goldshoe! That is not how you act like a lady!" 

"In her defense, she wasn't acting like a lady," said Sundance with great caution. "She was acting like a filly. Which she happens to be and I for one—" When Hoppy leveled her responsible adult stare upon him, his words died off even though he very much wanted to continue to say them. 

"I brought breakfast," Hoppy said with deep furrows of concern above her brows and below her horn. "Sundance, your breakfast awaits you. And a cup of tea. Maybe while you're eating, you can think about being a responsible adult." 

"Or not," he said, halfway beneath his breath. Much to his surprise and relief, he saw a half-smile on Hoppy's face. 

"You're good with foals, I'll give you that. Mostly because you act like one." 

"Bazinga!" exclaimed Sulky. 

Remembering a day long gone, Sundance thought of the stern nurse in the hospital, and he smiled. 

"Sparrow… I'm Hoppy. Do you remember me from last night?" 

The little filly nodded. 

"You're looking rough, dear. But don't you worry. You'll get through this." As she spoke, Hoppy put the heavy tray down upon the table. "You look a bit peaked. Let's see what I can do to make you better. Wort was a sickly yearling and now he's as healthy as… well, he's as healthy as a horse. Are you hungry, sweetie?" 

"Kinda, but I need my medicine," she replied. 

"How about some applesauce instead?" With a single eyeblink, Hoppy became incredibly momlike, and her entire demeanour radically changed. 

"What's applesauce?" 

A peculiar silence filled the infirmary, but thankfully, it did not last long. 

"Sparrow… you can trust Hoppy. I promise. Just like you can trust me. I'm going to get some breakfast. And you… you just enjoy your applesauce. Be good… and no biting." Sundance looked down at the filly that stared up at him with wide, unfocused eyes. "I'll be back later, I promise. We'll finish that book." 

"Alright." She blinked, sniffled, and reluctantly let go of Sundance. "I'm sorry I bit you. After I woke up, I felt bad about it." 

"And I'm sorry I bit you," he was quick to return. "I should never have done that. That was wrong of me." While Sundance said this, he thought of Princess Luna and the power of dreams. 

It was somehow reassuring. 

"But you'll come back, right?" she asked 

"I will," he replied. "I promise." 

"Alright." Sparrowhawk let go of Sundance, and then aggressively clung to Silent Thunder, who didn't seem to mind. 

"Sundance… after breakfast, you and I need to talk. I've already spoken with Corduroy. Sparrow needs some sunshine, and I have a plan. But we'll talk after breakfast. Go and eat while it's still hot." 

"Will do." He nodded and was curious as to what Hoppy had planned. He rose from the bed and as he did so, he said, "Thanks for the advice, Sulky. It was helpful. Thank you for foalsitting. It's appreciated more than you know." 

As he made his way to the door, the filly blushed and stepped aside. 
> Oh no, not again!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cornmeal mush with minced dried fruit. A cup of tea. For Sundance, it was a perfectly pleasing breakfast. He was of the mind that breakfast didn't need to be delicious—not necessarily—it just had to be filling. Though he wouldn't turn down a breakfast of delectable cinnamon rolls dripping with sticky-sweet icing, sweet cakes, and other assorted sugary treats. Though he hadn't yet realised it, Sundance had grown up to be a mostly sensible and somewhat stodgy pony—if one turned a blind eye to his thrill-seeking daredevil urges. 

Beside him, Paradox scarfed down thrice as much breakfast. He did not judge; no, he understood. She was a unicorn, and as a unicorn, she cast magic. Her magic made the lives of all easier. But this magic required an exceptional level of sustenance, and so the young mare ate like a horse. A hungry, hungry horsie. Why, she had used her magic to keep his breakfast and his tea hot, which was really rather considerate of her. It was just a thing that she could do, but what a thing it was. Sundance tried to imagine what it would be like to be a unicorn, but his brain didn't much care for this manner of speculation, and balked at his efforts. 

Somepony laughed; it was a boisterous belly laugh and it filled the dining hall with mirth. Sundance listened, his ears erect. Laughter was now more commonplace and could be heard often. Which, if he thought about it, was quite a difference from when he'd first arrived. The older ponies—whom he spent a great deal of time worrying about considering all the changes he wrought—seemed more than just merely happy. They were alive now. There was laughter, and fun—and even a little less working, but that was fine. There were more bodies to do the work now, so the older ponies could relax a bit. 

Gallows Humour was in a deep conversation about politics with Zipzap Clover. There was a lot of feeling in the words, but no animosity, no shouting. Sundance barely kept up with what was said, but he suspected that there might be a difference of opinion. There seemed to be no need to worry though, and Sundance hoped that in their own way, these two were becoming friends. Haboob sat beside her husband and rubbed her rounded, rotund stomach. Young Cork sat beside her, and she frowned down at her wooden bowl of cornmeal mush. 

It felt good to relax; but this was short-lived. Sundance noticed a peculiar sensation in his wings, and a curious-but-familiar tugging upon his innards. Within seconds, he knew what it was and became quite alarmed; Twilight Sparkle was about to teleport him again. The last teleportation event had traumatised him, and now, he was keenly aware of the gravitational forces about to be unleashed upon him. 

"No!" he cried as he looked up to see a glowing magenta nexus just above his head. "No! No! Oh no, not again, never again!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paradox glance upward to examine the sparking, glowing orb, and a part of him wished that she was as panicked as he was right now. The pull grew stronger, and so did his distraught disquiet. 

But he wasn't bonelessly slurped into the vortex; something was pushed through. 

A newspaper burst out of the shimmering, glimmering nexus, and a second later, the magical rift was gone. Sundance's relief caused him to gasp, and as he did so, Paradox neatly caught the newspaper before it landed upon his head. He looked at her, and she at him, and before Sundance had a chance to explain his current behaviour, Paradox smiled. 

"A crossword! A word search! Puzzles! I got dibs!" Then, before Sundance could respond, Paradox pulled the newspaper close to her chest. "Mine! I've been dying for a newspaper!" 

"Paradox—" 

"No!" Her eyes narrowed with greed. "I need this. Need. Need. Do you have any idea how bored I've been?" 

"Paradox, you can have the puzzles, but I think Twilight sent the paper because there's something in there that I'm supposed to see." 

"Oh." Slowly, her face returned to normal and Paradox relaxed a bit, but she still held the newspaper close. "I guess that's reasonable. Let's have a look, shall we?" Carefully, with an almost exaggerated sense of gentle action, she unfolded the newspaper, which she made sure she did not damage in any conceivable way. 

Not even a wrinkle. 

"May I?" he asked. 

"No, you may not," was her terse response. "Clumsy hooves. You might tear the paper. Or crumple it. There's a reason why ponies compare weak things to a newspaper, you know." 

When she put it that way, it almost seemed reasonable. 

Her face vanished behind the paper, which she held up to read. Sundance waited, patient, and after a few seconds he realised that he very much wanted to read the newspaper. It was text on paper and surely there had to be articles that would be a satisfying read. There would be things of interest. Politics. Op-eds. Advice columns. Letters to the editors. Civilisation could be found within those crinkly pages—and he very much wanted to have the newspaper for himself. It was a precious thing. The only thing that kept him from trying to snatch it was that it made Paradox so happy, and he desperately wanted her to be happy, even at his own expense. 

"There was a rash of suicides at Peaceful Pastures Asylum," Paradox said from behind the paper. "Not the patients, but the staff. There was also a midnight raid by the Wardens. A vast secret complex was found beneath the city. Story is developing. Oh my… oh my." 

Trembling, Sundance somehow managed to lift up his teacup with his wing and he had himself a much-needed slurp. 

"Multiple pharmaceutical companies were also raided last night, including Equestria's largest manufacturer of vaccines. The paper says this is the bust of the century. Multiple corporate executive officers have been taken into custody and will be interrogated." 

The paper was lowered and Paradox's face became visible once more. 

"Sundance…" 

No other words seemed forthcoming, and she shook her head in stunned silence. 

As for himself, he could think of nothing to say. All he could do was gulp his tea. His mind could do nothing to put the pieces together, and the aftermath was inconceivable. This, he realised, was Twilight putting her hoof down. The two Twilights had sent a message and he'd acted as the messenger. Something in his guts didn't quite feel right. Consequences were expected, sure—but this went beyond his expectations. Was this a first strike? Would there be more to come? Sundance tried to take it all in—only to find that he couldn't. 

"Sundance… are you alright?" asked Paradox. 

"I… I don't know." 

For a short time, Paradox's lips pressed into a tight, thin, straight line, and a dimple formed upon her chin. The glossy velvet of her face made Sundance think of living fire, but these were surface thoughts that he tried to distract himself with. He swallowed the last of his tea, licked his lips, and then put the teacup down upon the table. A weight settled upon his heart as a part of him concluded that he was responsible for this. Lives and careers were ruined and he—the unwitting messenger—was at least partially responsible for their destruction. 

Of course, he understood that these ponies brought about their own ruination. 

But that was cold consolation that offered no comfort. 

"I suppose what is important"—he found himself puzzled by the words coming out of his own mouth, as if he weren't the one saying them—"is that the rules were followed. Rule of law and all that. Mrs. Velvet had a lot to say about how twisted and labyrinthine the bureaucracy can be. Things don't change because they can't change. But the rules were followed. Now, the old can be torn down and something new can replace it." 

"What a peculiar thing to say, Sundance." 

Lacking a meaningful response, he shrugged. 

"There seems to be a shortage of thousand-year-old evils," Paradox said to Sundance whilst she held the newspaper close to her. "But we have plenty of hundred-year-old evils in the form of policy and law. I guess now that Princess Twilight Sparkle has cleared out the dangerous ancient evils, it's up to us to deal with the slightly more modern evils of our own making. I mean, she did her part… and now we're left to do ours." 

"Beware the bidding of princesses and their mothers," he said to Paradox, and then with a heart-heavy sigh, he resumed eating his breakfast. 



 

As it turned out, Flicker made a fantastic crane, just as Starlight Glimmer did. Atop the waterfall, and over to the right, just above the old kitchen caves down below, a structure took shape. It sat on an inclined slope, yet Sundance had no doubt that the foundation had been laid true. Ribs from the old warship now formed support struts that gave shape to the structure, which already had a roof. The old turbine was now rigged above the steaming, boiling crevice, and copper tubing was being fitted. 

Sundance had no idea what he was seeing, but understood that one day, it would be both a power plant and a brewery. The vapour that rose out of the vent was well over three-hundred degrees. It was a particularly hot vent, as evidenced by the old kitchen caves, where the abundance of hot water allowed for cooking, as well as bathing. Said kitchen cave was now closed by order of Nurse Corduroy, and would remain so until such a time that it could be made hygienic. 

Loops of copper pipe would be fed down into the vent, and water would flow through the system, so that the boiler could be heated. The steam would power the turbine, which would in turn make electricity, just as it had on the old decrepit warship—only this would be done without coal. Electricity and heat were needed for the brewery, and if all went well, there would be an abundance of both. It was exciting to watch the construction take shape through its various phases. 

Because of the incline, there would be a space beneath the floor. Sundance wondered what might be done with it. The front half of the structure stood on stilts—at least he considered them to be stilts, he could be wrong. Plumbing and piping was wrapped around the support struts and the rear wall of the structure was half-built. The old timbers still had life in them, and while they would not be considered beautiful by most, there was a sort of rough-hewn handsome charm to them. 

"Flicker is happy," Hennessy said to Sundance. "That's a rare thing. He likes hard work. It's his upbringing. He likes results… visible results." There was a soft sigh from the earth pony. "We'll be leaving soon. Flicker, he's still not at a hundred percent, but he's fit for light duty. Even Corduroy thinks so." 

"Seems too soon," Sundance remarked to the pony that now stood beside him. 

"It does," replied Hennessy. "When he was a colt, he used his telekinesis to move heavy farm equipment. He wanted to help his parents so they wouldn't have to work so hard. That's how he does it, you know. Flicker's not terribly magical… not like Piper… but very few unicorns can match his sheer lifting power. He plowed entire fields as a foal just by pushing the plow with his mind. I like to watch him work. It's easy to appreciate his effort." 

Watching everypony work together, it was easy to appreciate the effort made as a group. Mytilene stood out though. The young minotaur was every bit as strong as any earth pony, maybe stronger perhaps, and like all minotaurs, she had an innate eye for when things were level, straight, and true. Though Sundance worried about her being worked too hard, he could not deny that she seemed to be enjoying herself. She was Mighty. 

"Paradox showed me the paper, Sundance. Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine," he replied far too quickly. Realising that he'd done this, Sundance sighed, shook his head, and then turned to look Hennessy in the eye. "I'm mostly fine. I'll get over it. The suicides bother me. I suppose we'll all find out soon enough, but whatever was hidden must be pretty bad. Maybe I'm not fine. Maybe I don't want to know. It might be that I might be happier not knowing. Maybe I want to believe in the good that we ponies can do." 

"I've seen both ends," was Hennessy's soft-spoken response. "Turmeric too. He's changed, you know. I think he's getting better. He's cheerful, and sunny, and a good bit more optimistic. I think you've had something to do with that." 

"Maybe." Sundance shrugged with his wings. "But if he's changed, it's because he wanted to change." 

"Flicker changed me. I don't know if I wanted to change or not. But he stood behind me, and he shoved me ahead to places where I would not have gone on my own. I turned in my own father… and then I got help for my issues. Without Flicker… I might not have. Look, what I'm trying to say is… Turmeric had great and supportive friends. But he was stuck in a rut and didn't change much until you came along. I feel like you should know this… to be aware of it. Not for credit, or anything of that nature. Some ponies, they cause change all around them. Flicker is one of those ponies. And you might be too." 

Unsure of what Hennessy was saying, Sundance maintained a steadfast silence. 

"It seems to be that things are changing for the better, Sundance. And like Flicker, you're in the middle of it all. Don't lose heart. Surely, good things will come from everything that's just happened. In the meantime, it might be rough. Just… focus on what you have here, and everything will be fine. I'm not good at pep-talks. Flicker is. But I think he'd tell you the same thing." 

"Thanks, Hennessy. It means a lot…" 
> Dorks in the darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It was easier living with you than without you." Standing near the grave of his departed grandmother, Sundance allowed a stifled sigh to escape. "You told me stories. So many stories. Stories about pegasus ponies that hunted with wolves. You told me about how we were lords and ladies. We had this great, storied past… and I am absolutely terrified that I'll have a great, storied future. I am a part of something that is so big that I can't comprehend it. I took part in something that has far-reaching consequences. 

"Ponies have died, I guess. Don't know what to make of it. I rescued a filly. Like some hero that goes off to rescue a damsel from a tower. Only this was real. This was ugly. This was real, this was ugly, and this got real ugly real fast. That filly, she's really messed up from being shut away for so long. It's not the sort of thing that a quick kiss can fix. I don't think a happily ever after is even possible, but I might be wrong. Maybe she'll bounce back. She might be normal someday… whatever normal is. I don't even know anymore. Grandma, I've seen some stuff. There's evil in the world… and I've stood in its shadow. 

"Not just the cartoony evil in afternoon matinees and comic books either. But evils that we've made. Maybe we didn't mean to do it, or maybe we did. In the case of that filly I mentioned, that was done on purpose. I'm pretty sure they believe they had good intentions. Maybe they did. I'm too scared to judge because of my own good intentions. But I walked into an actual honest-to-alicorns den of evil and then I walked out again because I kept my head. 

"Still not sure how I did that. Still not sure how to feel. Don't know how to deal with what I saw and the ponies I encountered. It scares me that they might have meant well. Even worse, this might happen again. Being what I am… it means I've got to do the things that other ponies don't want to do. I have to clean up messes and go into dens of iniquity to rescue fillies in distress. Grandma, I'm not complaining… believe me, I'm not. But this is hard. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. 

"I remember when I was little… when I looked up at you, the sun would just shine off of your face. Sometimes, when the light hit you just right, you looked like you were on fire. I think about that a lot and I don't know why. You were a light in the world… now that light is gone and I miss you. I sure could use that light right now. Everything feels dark. Not impossibly dark… I guess… just uncomfortably dark. 

"I have to go light up the world for others. But I'll be back, I promise. We'll talk again." 



 

The cellar was a cool place where the sun's warmth did not reach. Every breath taken was remarkably dry and easy on the lungs. When Sundance thought of all the earth overhead, he was reminded of all of the horrors that could be so easily hidden from view—and how he himself could get away with awful things down here. The cellar could become a dungeon; but he was a firm believer that whatever was done whilst hidden away in the darkness would come into the light soon enough. Agents of the light, such as himself, went into those dark places and brought the justice of the sun with them—even if they were duped into doing so and were unwitting accomplices. 

These thoughts offered little comfort, however. 

More than just a place to store food, the cellar was now a place of comfort and healing. Which made it undungeon-like in the best possible way. River Raider was down here, and by now, she had to know of his arrival. He strode down the hall in silence, with only the sound of his hooves against the stone for company. After his chat with his grandmother, he felt different—but he wasn't sure if he felt better. 

His mother was a scuffler. A scrapper. She didn't go looking for trouble, but she made herself readily available so trouble could find her. Walking a beat was her purpose and she'd made a life of it. Officer Mom put herself out in the open and trouble was put on notice. By virtue of her very existence, she made lives better. Safer. Now, more so than ever, Sundance began to appreciate what she did. She did her rounds—and at the moment he was doing his. 

At the end of the long hallway, he turned left… 



 

River Raider stood in the middle of her room with a thin length of wood dangling from the corner of her mouth. The tip was burnt to charcoal and the smell of scorched wood left Sundance feeling sneezy. On the floor was a sheet of paper, which was dusty and darkened from charcoal. Thin and thick lines could be seen; shapes, structures, the foundations of art. This paper was one of many, and there were papers everywhere, with drawings in various states and stages of finish. 

Sundance could not help but notice that the partially-finished face on the paper on the floor bore more than a little passing resemblance to himself. River Raider twisted her head around to look at him sideways, and the makeshift charcoal pencil quivered in the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were almost luminous in the dim light of the oil lamp that burned atop the crude wooden table in the corner. He was a creature of the sun, and she a creature of the moon, but they were both pegasus ponies. There was some kind of kinship there, even if he failed to understand it. 

"Don't look at me as if I were food," she said to him, her words somewhat muffled by the length of wood in the corner of her mouth. 

"Say what?" Confused, every single one of his feathers fluffed out, and he felt his dock muscles tense. 

"You've got a hungry look in your eye," she said in a low, sooty rumble. 

"What? No, I… I just had breakfast. I don't know what you mean. I… I… me… eating you…" Hot blood rushed through his neck and flooded his face. His cheeks almost sizzled and he feared that his ears would either pop or combust. Words were the enemy right now, so he gave up trying to say them. His brain might also betray him, so he did his best to corral his thoughts before he got himself into trouble. 

"What do you know of pegasus ponies?" she asked. "Do you know the origin of your species? Our species?" Grimacing, she spat out the charcoal pencil onto the floor, lifted her head, and leveled her deadpan stare upon Sundance. "I've been contemplating our species during my recovery. I like it down here. It's peaceful and quiet. Corduroy is an excellent nurse." 

"I'm glad you feel that way," he said to her whilst he struggled to get his traitorous thoughts back into order. 

"Have you ever contemplated your teeth?" the big brute of a mare asked. 

"Teeth?" Troubled by this question, Sundance ran his tongue over his teeth and wondered if they needed a better brushing. 

"You are part of an observant species," she said in a dire deadpan. "Surely you've noticed that your teeth are different than those found in earth ponies and unicorns." 

He shrugged. "I don't spend a lot of time staring into the mouths of my fellow ponies." 

River Raider adjusted her stance. She was a huge mountain of a mare, with pillared columns for legs and a broad fortress of a back. Watching her move was hypnotic, as sheer slabs of heavy muscle slid beneath her skin. The clean white bandages that covered her wings stood out in sharp contrast against her sooty hide. She was a creature of incredible width, more than twice as wide as Sundance in the shoulders, or maybe closer to thrice. 

"Your front teeth are ridged. Thin-edged. They are not broad and flat like those seen in earth ponies and unicorns." 

"You seem fixated on teeth," was his baffled response. 

"Tell me, Sundance… what crops grow on the clouds? What grows atop mountains? What miraculous grain uproots to follow nomads as they traverse the sky?" 

There was a point to all of this, but Sundance had no idea what it might be. 

"Ah… you've never stopped to question why." She blinked, and the almost luminous pools of liquid soul vanished for a moment. Smoke rose in agitated curls from the corners of her mouth and her tail swished around her hind legs. "I question everything. And as part of a species of telepaths, that is not an appreciated trait. My questions spread like an infection. Questions are not appreciated among my kind. We are born to question others… so it seems… but also to obey and to never question ourselves. Tragic, really." 

"Teeth?" Sundance asked helpfully. 

"Pegasus ponies are creatures of intense energy and movement. Sure, they're prone to naps… but napping is a trait shared by predacious species." 

Tight lipped, Sundance narrowed his eyes at River Raider. 

"Ah, there we go. It has dawned upon you. A glorious day has happened." The left corner of River Raider's mouth contorted into a smirk. "High energy creatures need protein. Lots of protein. Grains do not grow on top of mountains, and fruit orchards cannot be planted upon the clouds. Pegasus ponies had to eat what food was available as they flew from place to place. Anything and everything. When a city was sacked and pillaged, a well-rounded diet could be had. But during the lean times… din-din was fast food." 

"Is there a point to this?" he asked. 

In response, River Raider shrugged with her shaggy, tufted ears. "What's the point to anything, really?" 

"Are you asking me to dinner?" he dared to ask. 

"Oh, you are a bold little pony of the day," she said with a shake of her head. "Were I but a little lonelier, I might accept." A smoggy sigh erupted from her as if she were a disturbed volcano. "Truth be told, I do find myself thinking of you." As she spoke, she lifted her right front hoof and then pressed it down atop the sketch on the floor in front of her. "When you are here, like right now, I wish that you were gone. But when you are away, I wish that you were here. It is really quite perplexing to me. Which leaves me with a lot of questions." 

Then, before Sundance could respond, she broke the back and forth by saying, "You've come to me for help. But you don't want to ask because you don't wish to impose your will upon me. This was a dry run. You weren't actually going to ask me for my help, not on this visit, but you were going to work up your courage a bit so that you could think about asking for my help on a future visit." 

His ears sank as he nodded. 

"You thought that somehow, I wouldn't know this. Foolish." 

Again, he nodded, and then he squirmed when he felt a prickle tickle his brain. 

"Sparrowhawk?" Brows furrowed, her face stern, River Raider spoke a smoky sentence: "There is a stain of darkness left smeared upon the creases and folds of your mind. Even so troubled, you wish to know the truth, though you fear what you might learn. Your bravery will take you to dark places, little dancer of the daylight hours." 

"I don't think Wormwood told me everything… and I need to know. If I am to help her, I have to know. I think there's a lot that Wormwood knows that he didn't tell me. Maybe to protect me. I don't know why he did what he did. He seems like a good sort." 

"Wormwood is the best sort," River Raider was quick to say. "He questions." 

"You know him?" asked Sundance. 

For the first time, River Raider did not have an instant response at the ready. She turned about suddenly, presenting her profile to Sundance. He watched as her ears rotated like hairy oars and listened as paper rustled beneath her hoof. Smitten as he was, he could not help himself, and he very much wanted to be close to her at this moment. To be near her. Close enough to touch. Guilty about his thoughts, he took a step backwards away from River Raider. 

"I know him," she said at last, and this reply was almost a whisper. "Wormwood. Martial Warden. Made himself mightily unpopular amongst our kind. He pointed out a contradiction in our way. He dared to speak out about the Wardens and the future of our kind in Equestria." 

Hopeful, Sundance dared ask, "Can you… tell me… what happened?" 

"Our end-goal is acceptance and integration as a species," River Raider said in a wholly different tone of voice, one made soft with worry. "Wormwood dared to point out the fact that the service of the Wardens runs counter-productive to our goal as a species. We're seen as terrors. Figures of punishment. We're spooky, mysterious, and unknown. And little ponies of the day are deathly afraid of the unknown. They're afraid of us. And we make it worse by serving as Wardens." 

Unable to do anything else, Sundance did what he did best; he listened. 

"Wormwood dared to point this out to the higher-ups. He continued to speak out even as our elders ordered him to be silent and to serve in silence. There was a lot of"—troubled, she hesitated for a time—"friction amongst our ranks. We found ourselves divided. Wormwood garnered a lot of followers that felt the same way he did." 

"Is that how he ended up working for Mrs. Velvet?" he asked. 

She answered, "That's exactly how. He made it known that when his time of service was done, he would make a difference. Wormwood wanted to work with foals… he wanted them to see us as heroes. As helpers. As healers. Wormwood spoke a great deal about how important it was for a generation to grow up and see us as something other than night terrors. Now he is a divisive figure among our ranks… hated by many, and loved by a few." 

"Loved by you?" As the words left his mouth, Sundance saw River Raider's head turn in his direction. 

"I took his side, yes. And that didn't make me little Miss Popular, let me tell you. It took all the problems I already had and made them worse. And if I were to tell the truth about it, I became downright antagonistic about it to drive others away from me, so I could have some peace and quiet. I sent my thoughts out loud and clear and drove everypony around me to distraction." 

"I think I like that about you and I—" His words trailed off into nothingness when he saw how she stared at him. It was as if her eyes were piercing into his soul, and there was an itch inside his brain, somewhere near the middle, in a place impossible to scratch. Since words were largely useless, he tried to clarify his thoughts so that River Raider could read them clearly. 

After several long seconds of intense scrutiny, her expression softened, and Sundance allowed himself to relax just a little bit. There was something about her eyes though… something had changed. Her face, too. The hardness had softened. She wore no smirk, and her deadpan mask was gone, at least for the moment. A reader of faces, Sundance saw hurt… but there was also hope to be seen. He desperately wanted to kindle that tiny flicker of hope and stoke it into a fire. 

"I… I… I need… I need you to help me," he stammered as he tried to come to terms with the naked, vulnerable mare before him. "I need you to help me so I can help others. What I need from you is for you to be like Wormwood. Sparrowhawk needs help… but there are others, too. I need to be able to understand them. The little ones in my care, I mean. Well, you already know what I mean, but I'm saying it anyway, because I'm not a telepath and it feels good to say words rather than just try to think your thoughts at somepony. 

"It's time for you to do your part here. I don't ask for much from anypony, and I feel that I am reasonable with my requests. You have a gift. It's something that I barely understand, but I plan to put it to use. What I need from you is for you to spend some time with these kids placed in my care. Get to know them. And then I need you to tell me what's going on inside those little heads of theirs so I can help them. I need to know what makes them tick. I'm flying blind into the darkness and so I need you. I need you." 

"Nopony has ever needed me… or even wanted me around…" 

"Then you spent time around the wrong ponies," Sundance blurted out. "Assholes, all of them. Incorrigible cold-porridge assholes!" 

"That's something that your grandmother and your mother say." 

"And now I'm saying it too!" His hooves shuffled, his feathers were rustled, and Sundance found himself filled with agitation. "Look, I know this will be hard for you… and you know I know. I know you know I know and so you should know how hard this is for me to ask you, and… well… we both know that we know how difficult this is for both of us and I don't want to put you on the spot but—" 

"But it's time I earned my keep, right?" she asked. 

"Uh…" 

"I'll help you," she said. "I'd like to help you. When all of that happened with Wormwood… I think that was the last time I felt good about myself and what I was. I'd like to feel that again." 

"Well," he began. "Alright then." After a deep breath, and then another, he felt better. 

"I'm scared." 

This was unexpected; he did not have a response. 

"You heard me," she said in a scratchy, smoggy whisper. "I'm scared. I'm scared that I'll be overwhelmed and then I'll do what I always do to drive others away and then the foals will either hate me or be scared of me. I don't know if I trust myself. Still willing to help… but there might be problems ahead. Rough skies and all that." 

"We'll get through that." Sundance spoke these words without a thought made about his response. "If I am going to be the Princess Celestia to these ponies, then I need you to be my Princess Luna and I—" 

"You want us to be squabbling siblings?" 

"What?" 

"Do you want me to utterly roast you at every conceivable opportunity with contentious snark and caustic wit?" 

"Say again?"

"You made a very strange request… one that I cannot even begin to process." 

"It made more sense in my head—" 

"I can see quite clearly inside your head, and not much in there makes sense right now. It's like your brain is made of cats." 

"Cats?" 

"Yes, cats. Meow." 

"Meow?" 

"That annoying sound that cats make. Your brain is a real mess… just like your old bedroom. Stuff everywhere. No organisation. Just a clutter of thoughts and mental dust bunnies everywhere." 

"It can't possibly be that bad—" 

"Oh, but it is." 

"I kept my room clean!" 

"You should know by now that I can't be lied to. You had the illusion of cleanliness. But you open up the closet door, or look beneath the bed, and—" 

"Well, the clutter had to go somewhere!" 

"That's just moving a mess from one location to another. Without actually cleaning up the mess. It seems that they'll let any pony be a baron these days. Even mess-movers." 

Stymied, Sundance lacked a means of response. Oh, but he tried; he tried to come up with something to defend himself, but there was nothing. Words failed him. This mare was inside of his head and he suspected that she knew his thoughts better than he did. Was this her being friendly? It might very well be. There was something to be said about her antagonistic charms though. She was inside of his head right now as he tried to sort all of this out. 

He was fine with that; there was nothing to hide. 

"You didn't cause those suicides," she said, her words a raspy growl that was pleasing to Sundance's ears. 

All of Sundance's thoughts came to one crystal clear focal point. 

"The cowardly flee the brave. The weak fear the strong. The craven disparage the honourable. The gutless empty their bowels when faced with feats of intestinal fortitude." 

"You… you are… you are a strange mare. A strange pony." 

"Strange as I might be, I'm not wrong. This is the way of things. The way of life. You didn't cause those suicides. There's a thorn in your mind, and if you don't pull it out, it will fester. You cannot, I repeat, you cannot hold yourself responsible for what happened. You were but a small part in a much larger sequence of events. A chain of consequences." 

"Feels like that chain is around my neck," he said, confessing his feelings. 

Her head bobbed; she nodded for a time, patient and wise. "I'm sure it does. And at the end of that chain, there's an anchor. Don't let it drag you down into a sea of despair. You're too sunny for such darkness." 

"Thank you?"

"That wasn't a compliment." 

"I took it as one." 

"You're an annoying little sunspot." River Raider bristled as she spoke. "A creature of annoying simple goodness—" 

"We've established this already. You've made those feelings known to me." 

"We have indeed… but right now, you're trying to drag me out into the sun with you… and I am annoyed with you. Believe me when I say, you will suffer for your sins." 

"I suffer for all I do," was his response. 

"You do. You take all of this so seriously. Does it help you if I tell you that you see those suicides as a failure on your part, and that there is a part of you that believes that you could have done better? Does that make things clearer? Does it help?" 

"That doesn't help me at all… not in the slightest." 

"Good." River Raider's facial expression was the exact opposite of her antagonistic response. Her eyes? Sad. Her mouth? Downturned. Her ears? Sagging. "Being Princess Luna isn't as much fun as I thought it would be. It's no wonder we're both so lonesome." 

"When I came down here, you talked to me about teeth." He cleared his throat. "Tell me all your thoughts on teeth." 

"You actually mean that…" 

"I wouldn't have said it otherwise. You can look into my head, remember? So I'm not about to say something I don't mean. You've clearly put a lot of thought into teeth… so tell me about what you've been thinking. Tell me what it means to be a pegasus… from your perspective. Share with me your observations." 

"Well, if you really want to know…" 

"I do… I really do. Plus, you need some practice so you can talk to others." 

"You're an annoying little sunbeam." 

"That I am," he replied with a nod. "Now talk to me about teeth. Or whatever. I'm sure that you have a lot you want to say." 
> The lesson
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dark clouds threatened an incontinent accident. What was once a sunny, bright morning full of promise threatened to become something else—something far less pleasant. Far to the south—the direction of the Everfree—something gloomy announced its coming with a calamitous rumble that was more sensation than sound. It was hot, dry, and still. The air, heavy, was far too moist. A summertime storm surged northward, and Sundance fretfully awaited its arrival. 

Once, in what felt like a lifetime ago, a storm had come and knocked over a tower. Since that time, all manner of nice and needful things had been constructed, important things vital for the barony's continued existence—the loss of which would surely be too much to bear. The coming storm, a feral beast, cast a fearful shadow of worry across Sundance's face as he waited for whatever disaster that blew in. As a pegasus, he was sensitive to yon ill winds and the prickle of foreboding upon his neck drove him to distraction. 

Agitated, animated, Sundance prancily paced about with his tail so high and so taut that one might think he'd been gingered. Once, a long time ago—in another life perhaps—storms were things that one waited out whilst one watched out the window. Sundance longed for a return to those days, those simpler times that had so little at stake. Here, if a terrible-tempered tempest blew through, all manner of dreadful consequences awaited. The worst outcome, the one he feared the most was damage to their crops. All of the swaying sunflowers were tender things. Some of the vines had begun to fruit. The corn was tall and there was promise of a bountiful harvest. 

But all of this could be taken away. 

"Sundance?" 

Upon hearing his name, he turned with alarming suddenness and replied, "Yes?" 

Carnation Nosegay, apprehensive and fearful, now stood atop the gatehouse with him. The pink mare's white mane had been blown into a frightful mess and she was attractively disheveled. Sundance thought of Earwig's suggestion that he and Carnation do unseemingly things with one another. Perhaps it was because he was so pent up and stressed out, but she was attractive and appealing in her current state of mess. Not that he would ever act on his feelings of course, because that felt mightily improper. 

"Corduroy asked me to ask you about getting your old sleeping box. The crate." 

"What about it?" he asked. 

"She wants it for that sick filly." 

Hearing this, Sundance thought about it for a moment. He wasn't using his old sleeping box—he had himself a much larger and far more comfortable one now. It might be good for Sparrowhawk to have a quiet, darkened place to rest. But still, he worried. Stuffing an abused, neglected filly into a box might look bad. It was a silly fear, but one that lingered and refused to go away. Perhaps his fear of appearing to do wrong would keep him good and honest. 

"You seem afraid, Carnation. Worried about the storm?" 

"Feral weather gives me the shivers… isn't natural. It just blows out of nowhere and does as it pleases with no thought given to who or what it might hurt. That's awful. The weather should be made to behave… or at the very least made to follow a schedule. Dangerous as it is, it should be regulated in some manner." 

A weather team might be useful, but not currently feasible due to a severe lack of pegasus ponies. An army of pegasus ponies would keep the fields safe, but would also need to be fed, meaning that more food would have to be grown. How many farmers did it take to field a soldier? What of a whole weather team? A cold wind blew over his face, lifted his forelock away from his eyes, and tugged upon his fuzzy, untrimmed ears. He was starting to look as feral as the weather, but thankfully, there was a distinct lack of mirrors in the barony. 

Feral weather was weather in its natural state; yet Carnation saw it as unnatural. He understood why and could accept the seeming contradiction in this statement. In Canterlot and the surrounding regions, the weather was mostly tamed. Central Equestria was the breadbasket of their great nation and agricultural security was paramount. Eventually, he too would have to protect his assets. But today, the storm would blow feral and fierce. 

"Do you like it here, Carnation? Are you happy?" 

"Um… uh… I wasn't at first?" Ears down, she bit her lip for a moment and chewed. "I took the rejection from Lord Sumac pretty hard. I only came here because I had nowhere else to go. Wasn't too happy about having to settle. But my feelings have changed considerably." She blinked, her white mane got tossed about in the wind, and her soulful eyes focused completely upon Sundance. 

"I'm part of something larger. We're doing something here. Us. There's a strong sense of 'we' in everything we do. I always felt so isolated. Just a face in a crowd. I was part of the herd, sure, but so was everypony else and the herd was just far too large. It was impossible to stand out or get noticed. But here… here, I am important. Here, I am Carnation Nosegay, and I help ponies. Everypony knows my name. And I know the names of everypony around me. Sauerkraut Pie and Kant Apfel are like two old grandmares I never knew I wanted. Couldn't imagine life without them." 

Whatever fearfulness she had about the weather was now gone; she stood proud and unafraid. 

"You should get that crate to Corduroy before the storm hits," he said to the young mare that had recovered her poise and confidence. "And if you don't mind, please, make certain that everything is shuttered and secured. We don't want any broken windows." 

"Sure thing," she replied. "Oh… I wanted to say… thank you for giving me a chance." 

"Carnation… you are most welcome…" 



 

Rain pounded upon every inch of the dining hall as if it demanded to be invited inside so that it too could get out of the wet. The wooden timbers shuddered and groaned as the wind attempted to have its way with the building. Closed shutters creaked against their hinges but the steadfast barriers refused to open. Frustrated that it was denied entry, the storm howled as it threw a tempestuous tantrum. Extra-crackly thunder exploded and seemed to echo within the confines of the box canyon whilst spears of intense blue-white light strobed through the narrow gaps and left the eyes dazzled. 

A scrawny, almost sickly-looking cat snoozed in a basket while an enormous two-headed dog loomed protectively over the barony's precious young. Meanwhile, an owlcoon skittered around Sweet Relish, who stood on wobbly legs whilst she blew glistening spit bubbles. A donkey and a burro—both foals—huddled beneath a blanket together, clutching at one another with each cannon-volley of thunder. For Sundance, these were good times. The storm, for all of its supposed fury, brought them together. It was now a time of rest and respite—and oh how he needed some rest and respite. 

Even though the dining hall had been expanded during the barony's reconstruction, it now felt small, crowded, and a bit too cramped. But it was also cosy and there was something about the closeness that was whole, right, and good. Even though Sundance was a pony who appreciated his own sense of space, he found himself rather enjoying this close moment, this togetherness that the storm brought. He missed Corduroy though. She was in the infirmary with Sparrowhawk, Silent Thunder, and Sulky. 

"Fantastic," Puddle Jumper said quite suddenly. "I have a captive audience. This is a perfect time for a lesson."

A few of the foals groaned and moaned, but it was good-natured protest. At least, Sundance hoped it was. A quick scan of the room revealed that nopony seemed particularly put out by what was said and this would be the perfect remedy to alleviate the boredom brought by the storm. Even the adults seemed interested, with turned heads and pricked ears. The old ones liked a bit of schooling it seemed, and were eager for something to do. Idleness was frowned upon by the old peasants, and it seemed that learning was just another type of labour, a task to be done. 

"Lemongrass asked some very interesting questions, which gave me ideas for a lesson plan." The pegasus paused after a particularly loud blast of thunder, and he trembled for a time. But his need to teach overcame his fearfulness and he recovered himself in short order. "Though, before we begin, I must confess, I am no great magical scholar. I have a bit of book learning and a broad knowledge of the subject, but no great understanding. Hopefully, if I go astray, young Miss Sunflower can set me straight." 

Closing her book, Paradox nodded whilst she gave all of her attention to Puddle Jumper. 

"You'll have to excuse me if I become distracted," he continued. "This is difficult for me. But keeping myself busy is good medicine for what ails me." He took a moment to clear his throat and his eyes glittered with restrained anxiety. "Lemongrass had some questions about magic and I could think of no better subject for a rainy day. We're Equestrians, each and every one of us, and magic is our greatest natural resource. It is only fitting that we all have some basic understanding of that which is most precious to us." 

Now supremely relaxed, Sundance lifted his teacup to his nose and inhaled the fragrant steam. 

"Magic," he began, "is a great and difficult subject of study. It doesn't like to be studied, and will resist all efforts of observation. When studied, even with the utmost care, magic will give wildly different results and will have varied outcomes even with the most rigorous efforts to maintain consistency and conformity during a study. I do find it peculiar that even the most powerful of harmonious magicks just so happens to be profoundly chaotic. When one gives it the consideration it deserves, one might conclude that the chaos that most of us detests is in fact a necessary part of life.

"Princess Twilight Sparkle is the living Element of Magic. She is quick to tell others that she has very little understanding of magic, and those that claim mastery or understanding of magic actually know nothing at all." 

Lemongrass raised his hoof up to eye level. 

"Yes, young Master Lemongrass?" 

"If Princess Twilight is the Element of Magic, and the Princess of Magic, and she is magic, does that make her unknowable?" 

When Puddle Jumper chuckled, so too did most of the room, and even Sundance joined in. 

"What an excellent question," the scholarly pegasus said to the young colt. "One that I am positive that Princess Twilight would find most amusing. It is said that the Element Bearers do take on certain aspects of their elements, so I am certain that Princess Twilight probably has a well-developed sense of mystery about her. Which brings me to our subject of discussion: the Elements. The foundation stones of magic. And not just the Elements of Harmony, but all of the various elements and elementals found in magic, some of which might not seem like elements, but, for the purpose of magical discussion, are considered and called elements." 

"I'm confused," Mytilene said without raising her big beefy hand. 

"Worry not, young Miss Mytilene," Puddle Jumper said to the young minotaur maid. "All shall be made clear in time. Does anypony—ahem—anybody have any questions before I continue?" 

"Why are the Elements of Harmony different from the other elements?" asked Gisela, who also failed to raise her talons to be called upon. "Why do they stand out?" 

"Excellent question, and we're about to discuss that very subject. Again, should I go astray, I am hoping that young Miss Sunflower will offer gentle correction." 

"I'm a unicorn and I've spent most of my life studying magic. Thousands upon thousands of hours of study. I can explain some of the nuts and bolts of it"—Paradox's head turned from side to side, which caused her fiery mane to bob over her bright eyes—"but I don't understand much of it at all." 

"Spoken like a true scholar," was Puddle Jumper's pleased response and he gave Paradox a stately nod of approval. "Now, about those Elements of Harmony. What makes them stand out? The answer is quite simple and mind-bogglingly complex. Ponies and other creatures believe in them. They are believed to be mysterious, mystical, and magical in extra-special ways. 

"Princess Twilight has shown that there is, indeed, a special magic unique to friendship. There is powerful magic to be found in kindness. This magic is made even stronger because so many creatures believe in the magic of kindness, or friendship, or laughter. This belief is so strong that these special magicks have manifestations… embodiments of representation. 

"Belief gives power. As an example, let's mention love. We have a Princess of Love, and even a manifestation of love in the form of the Crystal Heart. Some consider this to be the seventh Element of Harmony. But ponies and other creatures very much believe in the power of love. They believe it will change their lives. Some believe that it can alter the course of destiny. It is a belief so strong and so powerful that some creatures spend their lives in pursuit of it, hoping to find that perfect love. All this belief gives power… and Princess Cadance is the living embodiment of this power. Love has transcended into a manifested elemental force that can be brought to bear as magic. 

"Love and friendship have much in common, though both are very different. They do compliment each other though, and I am of the opinion that one could not exist without the other. But they are contrasting enough that their manifestations have come to embody very different things." 

"I love my foals." Eyes warm, her face serene, Hollyhock also failed to raise her hoof before speaking. "All of them. Each and every one of them, without exception. I hope that I am also their friend. Most of the time. There's times though that I can't be their friend." As she spoke, she glanced in Sundance's direction for a moment, and then turned away before he could make eye-contact. "There are times that I have to be their mom because I love them. That can make it difficult to be their friend, because I have to do what is best for them." 

"Well said, Miss—" 

"Please"—the mare turned bashful—"just call me Hollyhock. Or Holly." 

"Well said, Miss Hollyhock. But can a friend also do what is necessary? Can a friend also offer tough love?" 

"Well, I suppose they can." Rubbing her chin, Hollyhock turned thoughtful. "I only brought it up because it was an example that I understood." 

"Excellent, Miss Hollyhock." With a smile upon his face, Puddle Jumper glanced around the room. "Now let us return to the subject at hoof." 

As Sundance slurped his tea, he heard Puddle Jumper say, "And now we'll discuss the elemental elements. Which is a terrible name, but what can you do? Sometimes, scholars are a bit stodgy. They're not the most creative creatures. Which is why so many fascinating subjects have awful or otherwise mundane names. Like elemental elements and—" 

A terrific crackle of thunder caused Puddle Jumper to pause, mouth-open, and his eyes glazed over with fearful unease. All of him, every inch of him from hoof to ear trembled and shook. It grew so bad that Sundance feared the stricken scholar would be unable to continue. But then, something curious and heartwarming happened. Runt, already in a dreadful state himself because of the storm, went to Puddle Jumper's side, sat down, and then the almost petrified pup clung to the terrified teacher's foreleg. 

There was a brief interlude as a powerful silence claimed the room, and then thunder exploded once more. This one was far, far worse than the last, and several of the ponies in the room spooked. Even Sundance was left unsettled by the blast, as evidenced by his ruffled feathers. Fretful, fearful for those in the infirmary, he hoped that they were fine. Then, as the thunder echoed, the sounds of the storm changed significantly as hail joined the pounding rain. 

"We have the elemental elements," Puddle Jumper said, his voice all a-quiver with bowel-clenching terror. "Things like storm magic. Wind. Lightning… electricity. Pegasus ponies and certain griffons are attuned to these elements. There are exceptions, however, such as pegasus ponies attuned to the element of earth, and these unique pegasus ponies can conjure up dust devils. There's a lot of speculation about why certain pegasus ponies can do this, but no real satisfying explanation." 

Hail tappity-tap-tap-tapped against the roof and shuttered windows. 

"Fire and electricity are common attunements for unicorns, and then you have rarer attunements such as hydromancy." Puddle Jumper's speech was impeded by his trembling jaw and tight, taut lips. "Earth ponies, of course, tend to be attuned with earth, though not always. There are earth ponies with specialised attunements and strong connections to stone, for example. Shatterstone practitioners rely upon this connection for their unique magic. And then you have earth ponies with thoroughly baffling attunements to gravity. A rare gift, indeed." 

With his wing now wrapped securely around Runt, he continued. 

"Certain elements come from other planes, like how fire is channeled from the Infernium. Or storm magic that comes from the Tempestatibus, a monster whose body was destroyed and his spirit was bound to the sky. I've heard stories that before he was a monster, he was an alicorn, and he had his name stolen from him. It is said that this dreadful monster might return someday if a storm ever grows too large. Channeling storm magic is dangerous because to do so, one must channel his infinite rage." 

Thunder crashed for several impossibly long seconds and everything shook from the concussive force. Runt yelped and buried his face into Puddle Jumper's side. Meanwhile, Bonk, alone without Runt, tackled Gerard and held tight to the griffon. Tarantula and Flax were completely buried and hidden beneath the blanket, their faces no longer visible. Geiger Tiger was no longer in his basket; in fact, the cat was nowhere to be seen, and it was as if the feline had simply vanished. Sweet Relish made every effort to hide beneath her mother. Pluck wore a brave face, but his surviving eye was glassy with terror. 

Earwax, her three legs twitching, muttered, "I damn near wet myself with that one." 

Then, his voice squeaky with fear, Pluck said to her, "I almost did too." 

In response, Earwax scooped up the colt with her foreleg, and then held him close. 

He did not protest. 

One eye, and one foreleg; together, they made for quite a pair. 

The door rattled and thumped against its frame as the wind attempted to force entry. Everything shook and shuddered. Hailstones pitter-pattered, rain splattered, and even though it creaked in protest, the dining hall defied the elements. Wind whistled through the narrow gap beneath the door and water crept inside. Bristling with defiance, its tail a bushy, frizzy exclamation point, the owlcoon hissed at the door as it went thumpity-thump-bump. 

"Stay out," was Privy Pit's stern warning to the unwanted, unwelcome guest. 

"Yeah." Floodgate gulped, tried to work up his courage, and nodded. "Stay out or the Milord will come out there and give you damn good hiding." 

"Yeah!" several voices said in unison. "A damn good hiding!" 

Baffled and more than a little concerned, Sundance wondered just how he was supposed to pick a fight with a storm. It wasn't something taught to him in school, and his mother certainly hadn't said much about it. Neither did his grandmother. If he was expected to give the storm a 'damn good hiding', then his peasants would surely be disappointed. As the pounding of the hail intensified, he found himself worrying about what sort of damage might be done to their crops. 

Perhaps a damn good hiding was justified. 
> Papers? Please!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The newspaper arrived like all of the others; which is to say, there was an ominous crackle directly overhead, a nexus of magenta light, and an eager Paradox ready to both catch and claim it. Sundance, once terrified of being teleported once more, now only cast a wary eye upon the annoyance but his breakfast was interrupted. Three papers had arrived to varying degrees of panic, but today's, the fourth, was practically a non-issue at this point. 

"Dibs," Paradox said around a mouthful of muesli. 

"We've become so much closer," Sundance said to his cousin beside him, "since the regular arrival of newspapers." 

"I value our breakfasts together," she replied whilst she unrolled the newspaper. 

"Alright," he said, readying himself for the onslaught of terrible news, "hit me. What are today's headlines?" 

"Gimme a moment," Paradox replied, her fine grammar and eloquence lapsing in her half-awake state. Her powerful jaws crunched and munched her cereal grains while her eyes darted to and fro, taking in all the text fit to read. 

"Hmm," Sundance hmmed, because a response felt necessary, but he had nothing to say. 

"Hmm?" Paradox turned this into a question through some means, probably magic—or perhaps an unseen change in punctuation. 

"You only enjoy my company at breakfast because the forecast calls for Sundance with a chance of a newspaper shower. Tell me I'm wrong, Para—mmph!" 

Paradox, who now had her hoof held over Sundance's mouth, smiled a soft smile whilst she eagerly read her pilfered newspaper. 

Sundance, who now had Paradox's hoof held over his mouth, was sincerely surprised. She was not a touchy-feely sort, so her doing something like this was completely unexpected. So unexpected that it was totally worth the cost of a newspaper. Had she learned to trust? Was she healing? If she was, then this bode well for Sparrowhawk. Ignited by optimism, Sundance allowed his warm emotions to soar into the clouds—only to feel a pang of regret when Paradox pulled her hoof away. 

The moment—the most magical of moments—ended far too soon.

"More is known about the underground complex. The alchemical refinery had an underground test facility, as was required by the city regulations at the time of its founding. Over time, Peaceful Pastures greatly expanded the warrens in secret and spread out beneath the city like a parasitic organism. That's good journalism right there. Parasitic organism." 

In silence, Sundance allowed that to sink in for a moment. 

"Canterlot has a couple of alchemical refineries too," Paradox said to Sundance. "They're also subterranean. For safety reasons. If something goes horribly wrong, the whole thing buries itself and efforts are made to seal everything off. It doesn't always work, but having it underground is better than the alternative, which is having the whole mess aboveground." 

For a brief moment, Sundance thought about what Autumn Allium had said about purging data. Was there a plan to demolish the whole facility and to sink everything into a hole? Could that have been used to hide the evidence of wrongdoing? In the end, when it mattered most, Autumn Allium chose to do right. She was alive; he knew this from another newspaper, and led the effort to cooperate with the authorities. For all of her faults, and his own intense dislike of her, he hoped that she would be shown some small measure of mercy. 

"More of the same," Paradox said around a mouthful of still somewhat crunchy muesli. "They were testing drugs… vaccines… curatives and restoratives. But they were also working on a means of protection from shadowlings. That's a new bit of information." For a short time, she went silent, chewed her breakfast, and her eyes soaked up every printed word. 

"They were intentionally exposing patients to the influence of shadowlings." She gulped, and the sound she made when she swallowed sounded painful. "All this misery was intentional. Sensory deprivation, keeping patients from vital sunlight, inflicting all this deprivation, all of it was intentional. There was hope of finding an elixir or some kind of protective draught, some manner of decoction that would make ponies immune to the effects and influence of shadows. They were trying to find a way to protect us all from the things that pose the most danger to our cities." 

Sundance, who understood very little about the shadowling threat, had nothing to say. They were parasites that fed upon negativity, and caused sad sickness. For them, cities were a feast of negativity. They lived under beds, in closets, the shadowlings found refuge in shadow. Through their influence, they caused bad dreams and made ponies act in an unseemly manner. Negative aspects such as tribalism were made worse, all so that shadowlings would have more negativity to feast upon. He understood very little of the unseen world, but knew it to be a problem. 

Fillydelphia was no doubt infested with shadowlings, as was Baltimare. Probably every major city in Equestria. Wherever ponies gathered in large numbers, so too did the shadowlings. He'd been warned about them, and knew that at some point in the future, he would need to worry about the barony. Chartreuse had warned him—schooled him in the nature of shadowlings and the threat they posed. But it was now that it truly sank in and his understanding of the threat made sense. 

He needed to have a long talk with Litany. 

"I can't help but wonder," Paradox said, mostly to herself, "if the shadowlings were running the asylum and had themselves an all-you-can-eat buffet set up. It's more than possible. In school, I learned that they can whisper in your ear while you sleep and say the most reasonable things. They're endlessly manipulative and can trick you into thinking that you're doing something for the sake of good. All those suicides… were the shadowlings just having themselves a bit of a feed?" 

This caused Sunance to shiver so hard that his teeth clapped together. 

"On the surface, this seems like more of the same. Corporate greed and bad ponies doing bad things for the sake of profit. But beneath the surface…" She shook her head from side to side as a thin ribbon of milk dribbled down her fuzzy chin. "I don't like to look beneath the surface. In the depths of this ocean, you and I are no more than food. The further you go down, the more eldritch horrors you find. Nothing is as it seems and simple evil isn't so simple. It always leads to something worse… something unfathomable… and however awful as that might be, that too, leads to something worse. There are black things in the depths. But up here on the surface, everything seems so simple. So black and white. So cut and dry." 

"I remember when I was ignorant and life seemed simpler. I didn't know. These horrors didn't exist." Sundance watched as Paradox wiped her chin with her foreleg, and then she licked her lips. "You know, I think I was happier. But there's no going back. There's no going back and you and I are far too aware of what exists beneath this raft we call civilisation." 

"Seems precariously thin on the bottom," she replied with a sad shake of her head. "That's pretty insightful, what you just said. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were getting smarter. Or maybe wiser. Or maybe all this accursed boredom and lack of modern distractions just gives us all more time to think. The strangest thoughts come to me when I'm in the outhouse." 

"Mmm-hmm," he mmm-hmmed with a nod. "When I get done with breakfast, I'm going to go and have me a think." 





Of the three changelings that assisted Sundance, only one of them had a name that he was capable of speaking. Perennial had a spoken name; the other two had names that only a telepath could understand, as they were a series of mental images, feelings, and notions. Sundance did not begrudge them, nor did he demand that they take a sensible name. Just so long as he could communicate with Perennial, he was fine. 

Perennial was a pretty changeling, with a gleaming iridescent black-green carapace that shimmered rainbow swirls when the light hit it just right. Her horn appeared to be a twig, and tiny leaves and buds could be seen growing on the magical organ. She was small in build, just like her companions, and not at all like Simulacrum and Simulacra, who were far, far larger and sturdier. From what little he understood about her, Perennial came from drone stock—who just so happened to be well-prepared to deal with tasks involving an aggravating level of tedium. 

Which meant that she actually enjoyed the drudgery of paperwork. 

The trio worked with astonishing speed; so much so that Sundance could not help but envy them. If he'd had their help with his genealogy project, he would have been finished in no time at all. They sat back to back, forming a sort of triangle, and paperwork circled about them like a cyclone. He could feel them in his mind, reading his knowledge, cleverly tapping into his curious innate understanding of paperwork and bureaucracy. 

With their help, he might finish up all this paperwork while he was still young. 

"How goes things at your homestead?" he asked. "Did the storm cause you grief?" 

He felt something in his mind, a pleasant sensation, and then he heard Perennial say, "We have made friends. The storm was no trouble at all." 

"Friends?" Sundance lowered the paper that he'd been reading. 

"Beavers," Perennial replied. "We've made friends with beavers. Beavers make good friends." 

"If you don't mind me asking… how does one make friends with beavers?" 

"They were suffering," the pretty changeling replied. "There is a magical dread upon the land. We know not where it comes from. We know not the source. But the simple minds of the beavers had no protection from this insidious dread. It made them behave contrary to their nature. We used our minds to shield their minds, and now they are our companions. They work for us… labour for us, and in return, we grow them tender saplings. They will assist us with the planned flow of water." 

"Incredible." Sundance put down the paper on the table before him whilst he tried to organise his thoughts into meaningful questions. He had so many. 

"We are not exploiting the beavers," she said to him. "We have not enslaved their minds as our kind might have once done. We have a mutually beneficial arrangement." 

"So the beavers were influenced?" he asked. 

"They were driven mad by the insidious dread. Paranoia wracked their minds. Beavers do not naturally experience paranoia, nor do they experience insanity. They attempted to build a beaver fortress to keep themselves safe. They believed a long horrible winter was coming… which is the only thing that their simple minds truly understand. The dread became winter and this consumed their thoughts." 

"I see." 

"No, you don't, but it is admirable of you to want to understand," she said to him. 

"When I said, 'I see' it was meant as an acknowledgment… not that I actually see." 

"Oh." Perennial's head tilted to one side and her eyes gleamed for a moment. "Affirmation of statement. Confirmation of exchange. We see." 

"So the beavers were barmy…" 

"As evidenced by their irresponsible construction." 

Concerned, and more than a little distraught by this information, Sundance leaned against the table. Something was causing the animals to behave strangely. The owlbears had come down out of the mountains and now roamed the lowlands and the hills. Beavers were preparing for a long winter. Bunnies were overbreeding. The owls were deeply disturbed by something, but despite all of his attempts to communicate with them, he could not determine what. 

Some insidious dread lurked somewhere… but where? 

So much of his land remained unsurveyed. There was so much to do, so much that demanded his attention. Even if he went looking, could he handle what he might find? He needed to learn how to fight. That was a priority. The past few days were spent with this lurking in the back of his mind. Perhaps it was time to ask Lord Sumac for help. Or, if not him, then who? Surely there was somepony he could turn to. But not Princess Celestia, oh no. She needed to see that he could handle this on his own. There was so much given to him already. 

Now it was time to make friends, and then ask those friends for help. 

"Perennial… are you sure that you're fine with paperwork? I mean… if you are the least bit unhappy, you don't have to help me. I just, uh, wanted to make that clear." 

"This is better than wading through muck and slime," she said in return to his question. "We are dry. We are comfortable. We are freed from heavy lifting." 

"Oh… well… I can see how this might be appealing then. Carry on. But if you need a break, take one." 

"One shall be taken if it is needed, we assure you." 

"Good. Good. Right. Back to the grind, I suppose…" 
> Ambush
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why do we call goals and things that we hope for dreams? Sundance asked of himself as he blinked in the bright sunlight. Dreams are unobtainable and disappear the moment we wake up. Do we set ourselves up for failure when we refer to what we want as a dream? Will it remain forever-elusive? Dreams are the furthest thing from reality. Do I have a dream or a goal? What if I can't tell? 

A few feet away, Corduroy was hunched over, her jowls resting upon her paw, and her eyes were thoughtful. How things had changed. Oh, how things had changed. At the moment, Sundance felt as though he had himself a pretty good understanding of how to read her face. Something told him that she didn't wholly approve of his plan and right now, at this moment, she was probably trying to think of just the right words to express that. 

"You can get others to fight for you," she said at last. 

That wasn't much of an attempt, and Sundance replied, "Or I could lead by example." 

"The issue," Corduroy began, "is that there is only one of you. You're the baron. The pony in charge. If something happens to you… everything that you've worked for… that we've worked for… Sundance, you have obligations." 

"I do. To keep others safe. Which means I have to be the one in danger." 

"That's just stupid," the anxious diamond dog snapped whilst she turned around to face away from Sundance. "A little adventure here and there is one thing. But this… this is irresponsible. You can't be replaced, Sundance. You've done incredible work here. Don't throw it away." 

"I found myself surrounded in a room—" 

"That's a wholly different circumstance and you know it. You would have been extracted. Nopony was expecting you to battle your way out of there." 

"Corduroy, I have to fight my own battles." 

"No, you don't. That's a load of horseapples." 

He sighed and discovered that this disagreement left a bitter taste on his tongue. 

"You are not Commander Hurricane," she said, clearly irritated with him. "And that's fine, Sundance. Private Pansy is also remembered. There's no shame in not being able to fight." 

"Well, I feel that there is—" 

"That's just dumb." 

As much as that comment stung, Sundance didn't allow his hackles to rise. He somehow remained calm. Passive. There wasn't a single outward sign of anger. Nothing about him revealed his pricked temper. While he understood Corduroy's point of view, and even agreed with it on some level, he still felt that this was something that he had to do for himself. The incident with Sparrowhawk was the final straw. 

"Why is this so important to you?" asked Corduroy. "Is this about ego?" 

"I don't know. I don't have an answer." 

"Well, if you don't know why you're doing it, why do it at all?" 

"For my own betterment." 

A low growl escaped Corduroy, and she tugged upon her own ears. Eyes squeezed shut, she stood there yanking on her own ears for several seconds, growling and grunting whilst she shifted her weight from one paw to the other. Her supple, stretchy face contorted, her jowls quivered, and her tail sagged. Sundance watched, impassive, and waited for her fit of pique to pass. 

"What if you die?" she demanded. 

"If I learn how to fight, at least I'll die well. Better than dying like a chump." 

"Argh," she arghed, arghling for the sake of expressing her arghlement. "There is no glory in death. Dying doesn't make you great. Living does. Living a long productive life. My job as a nurse is to keep you alive for as long as possible, so that you might achieve greatness!" 

"Is this a conflict of interests?" he asked. 

"I don't know," was her slow response. "If you die, all your work here ends." 

"I'm not that important," he said. "There are others." 

"But those others aren't you." Her voice was now an unmistakable whine. "How can you say that you're not important? Look at what you've done here!" 

"What I've done here has been accomplished by me being passive and allowing things to happen. I need to take a more active role in things and I—" 

"But not by fighting!" 

"Somepony has to do it, and there is a distinct lack of someponies to do it. There's problems to the north. Tarhollow has bandits and monsters and such. What if they come south? I don't have an army, or soldiers, or anypony. So I'm stuck defending what is mine. This isn't something that I can be passive about. I can't wait it out and hope for the best. If I take action now, I have a better chance of dealing with it before it becomes a crisis. Before anypony else is in danger." 

She slumped and everything sagged. "You're right. But I don't have to like it. But you're also wrong. If something happens to you, it's not just the end of your plans, but also Princess Twilight's. You're instrumental to that. Sundance, it feels like so much is at stake." 

"Which is why I need to take a more active role in safeguarding our shared future." 

"Well, I don't have to like it. Go on. Go to Lulamoon Hollow while there's still daylight. Though I'm not sure it matters. It's always dark there. Dusk for daylight, and the blackest nights in Equestria. It's kinda spooky, Sundance." 

"Are we still friends?" he asked. 

She turned suddenly, and with wide-eyed disbelief, she stared down at him. "What sort of question is that?" 

"We're fighting," he replied. 

"No, we're not." 

"I think we are. And it worries me." 

"We're not." 

"If we're not, then what are we doing right now?" 

"Saying goodbye," she snapped. "Get out of here!" 

"So we're still friends?" 

"There's nothing that can change that!" Pulling her paws away from her face, she began to wave them around over her head. "I need a calming cup of tea! And you… you need to go! Before I change my mind and don't let you leave! Are we still friends… what sort of crummy question is that? Argh!" 

As Sundance spread his wings, Corduroy stomped off towards her infirmary. 



 

Tarhallow was aptly named. The lowlands north of the mountains, beyond the foothills, had a great many boiling lakes and pools of tar. While much of it was marshy, or downright swampy, there were patches of what appeared to be fertile land. There were ruins here, Sundance could see the shattered remains of old buildings, crumbled walls, and the decayed remains of what was once prosperous. He saw treacherous paths and rotten, collapsed bridges. 

A cragodile wallowed in a bubbling pond of steaming, roiling tar. 

It was hotter here, very much so, and the air was actually steamy. This would be a miserable place to spend the summer—it would be miserable to live here at any time of the year. Yet this land held promise. Naphtha could be found in the tar pools. He had little understanding of what it was, other than that it was flammable and valuable. Before electricity, lamps used naphtha for fuel. Seeing the ruins made Sundance realise that this land had once been valuable, but since electrification it had become less-so. 

The moldering, mildewed remains of an old tower stuck up out of the swamp like a rotten stump. 

Somewhere in this area, a hospital complex would be built. Perhaps farther north. All the runoff from the mountains and foothills collected here in this place, these lowlands, but farther ahead on the distant horizon Sundance saw trees as far as the eye could see. So Tarhallow was just an unpleasant patch. It certainly didn't smell very nice, and the stench was somehow even worse. 

At least the boiling lakes were majestic in their own way. 

Then, much to his surprise, Sundance saw a sign. It stood right next to a rather perilous path that was decidedly too close to a bubbling tar pit. While grey and somewhat weatherbeaten, the sign wasn't rotten. It wasn't decaying. The sign seemed far too new in comparison to everything else, so he swooped down to have himself a better look. Somepony had put up a sign, and it couldn't have possibly been all that long ago. He doubted that the previous Milord had done so, which left him wondering who might have done this? 

"Tarhollow region: postal code five-five-niner-six-banana," he read aloud from the weathered sign. Then, below that, he read, "Welcome to Putrid Puddleberg. Beware the boglins!" And then, below that, he read, "Lulamoon Hollow: north and west. Stay on path."

Befuddled, he said to himself, "How odd." 

Hovering in the air just above the sign, Sundance scratched his chin. This place had a postal code… which meant it had postal service. His barony however, had no such service and this was one of the many things on his to-do list. Bureaucracy made no sense and defied reason. It maddened the mind. And this was a perfect example of absolute inanity. This place was a functioning township, he realised. Some agent of the Crown probably came out all this way to plant this sign. Yet the barony proper was largely forgotten. It didn't even have a name, but was in need of one. 

"What's a boglin?" he asked, even though there was nopony to answer. 

As it turned out, said boglins lurked in the bushes—bushy bushes perfect for ambushing. They loitered in the shrubbery, lollygagging languidly, leering lackadaisically. Sundance was completely surrounded by horrible, wretched, perpetually soggy bog-dwelling goblins. Dozens of the dirty opportunists waited around this very sign, because ponies were stupidly curious enough to come down and have themselves a better look. The murderous little psychopaths had crude, rusty knives, nasty axes, and jagged, crooked spears. 

But before they could strike, just as they prepared themselves to ambush their unsuspecting and not-so-terribly-bright lunch, Sundance pooted and flew away. 



 

The shadow of the Canterhorn really did fall upon Lulamoon Hollow and Sundance saw a wall of dusk ahead of him. It was more than mere shadow though, some of it was magic, and none of it could be understood. Even shrouded in dusk, bathed in twilight, the land was lush, green, and verdant. Flapping his wings, he spent a few moments hovering in the air so that he might take it all in. There were ponies here right on the edge—a whole settlement in fact. A small town was half-in and half-out of the shroud of twitterlight. 

And what a town it was! 

Though small, it was impressive. There were neat stone buildings, which were of spectacular construction, but also shaped trees and shaped earth structures. He saw carriages, wagons, carts, and there was a surprising amount of traffic in the narrow cobblestone streets. Past the town, beneath the gloom, there were strange apple trees that Sundance had never seen before. How anything grew without the sun was unknown to Sundance, who could not even begin to imagine such things. 

A sunny golden pegasus maid swooped upwards, and before Sundance could introduce himself to her, she said to him, "Hi! Welcome to Gloamingwood! If you've come to do the business of banditry, I'd advise that you reconsider!" 

"Banditry?" 

"Oh, you've chosen poorly! Prepare to die in the most horrible manner that you can—" 

"No, no! That was a question! I'm no bandit! I'm Sundance… of the Sunfire Barony. Baron Sundance. I've come to meet with Lord Sumac." 

"Oh." The pegasus maid's expression turned sweet, but not the least bit apologetic. "You have a long way to go. And you won't be able to see. Probably. But some dusk apple brew will give you the night vision you need. No charge. Lady Pebble would scold our ears off if we charged you… but everypony else is fair game. It's darker than it looks." 

"Thank you," Sundance said. "Miss… uh… I never got your name?" 

"I never gave you my name. I suspected that you were a bandit." 

"So I noticed, Miss." 

"Snowtart Apple," she said in a syrupy voice. 

"Miss Snowtart Apple." He nodded, once, then a second time, and it was then that he took notice of the pretty pegasus maid. She was lean, but well-muscled. A tiny scar existed between her nostril and her lip. Her golden hide almost appeared to be metallic and the more he looked at her, the more he liked what he saw. 

"Like what you see?" she brazenly asked. 

"Um, my apologies, Miss—" 

"There's no harm in looking," she said, her voice somehow syrupier. "You're kinda handsome. Wouldn't have stopped me from pummeling you into pudding if you were a bandit though. I make a fine distraction, wouldn't you agree?" 

Before Sundance could respond, he heard sniggering from behind him. A quick glance over his withers revealed two other pegasus ponies, one male, the other female. With a nervous laugh, he held his front hooves up in good-natured surrender. When he returned his attention to Snowtart, he saw that she had a particularly toothy grin that stretched from ear to ear. 

Snowtart made a come-hither gesture with both of her front hooves. "Please, come with me, Lord Sundance. You look thirsty. Care for a little lunch?" 



 

As it turned out, Snowtart Apple and her companions, Pepperjack and Peppercorn were incredibly friendly sorts. He sat in a far too comfortable chair with a slice of apple pie that was far too large, on top of which there was a slice of melty pale yellow cheese. A tremendous tankard of what appeared to be cider was plunked down beside him, and the unicorn serving maid smiled at him as she retreated. 

"Thank you, Sunshower," Snowtart said to the serving maid. Then, she turned her attention to Sundance. "So, what brings you to Lulamoon Hollow?" 

"I came to ask a favour," he replied with all of his attention on his wedge of pie. 

"Oh… a favour?" 

"Need to do something about the bandits." 

"You do," Snowtart agreed, her head bobbing up and down. 

"But to deal with the bandits and such, I need to learn how to fight them. Need to learn to fight, period." 

"You don't know how to fight?" The golden mare's golden eyes blinked and then went wide. "There's nothing wrong with that. Don't be ashamed. You poor dear. This happens." 

Both Pepperjack and Peppercorn began to nod. 

Poor dear? This ruffled his feathers more than he cared to admit. Already beset by insecurity and self-doubt, this made everything worse somehow. When he looked up from his pie, he saw that Snowtart had a look of serious concern on her face as she studied him. Well, at least she was sincere, not that her sincerity dulled the sting. Her attractiveness however, that went a long way towards distracting him from his woes. 

"You'll want to go to Lulamoon Hollow," she said to him. "Just follow the road with the glowing bright blue fungus. Don't veer too much off the road. It's enchanted and keeps the dangerous monsters away. Just follow the path and when you get to Lulamoon Hollow, seek out Megara the Lioness. She's the Manticore at Arms. If you ask nicely, I'm sure she'll help. She trained me how to fight, along with the Pepper twins, and pretty much everypony else." 

"She taught you how to fight?" he asked. 

"We already knew how to fight." Snowtart seemed a bit miffed and her nostrils flared wide. "She taught us how to win. How to fight dirty." 

"How to distract somepony and then sneak up behind them?" 

She nodded. "Exactly. She has rules. The number one rule is to never get into a fair fight." 

This caused Sundance's eyebrows to rise on their own free will. 

"We're all scoundrels and rogues." Peppercorn's baritone was a throaty rumble that made Sundance's ears quiver. "Our barony has a reputation… one that we take great pride in." 

"We let monsters live in our woods so that we might test our mettle against them," Pepperjack said to Sundance. "And we don't cower from bandits. We're not like other ponies." 

"Soft living makes for soft ponies," Snowtart said as she leaned against the smooth wooden table. "It is good that you came here. Now, drink up! The dusk apple brew has quite a bite. That first swallow is always a doozy!" 
> Blessed darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gloom did not have a sense of doom. Everything shone with silver, as if kissed by moonlight, and Sundance's altered eyes saw everything with astonishing, breathtaking clarity. Because he was ever-so-slightly tipsy, the effect might have been a little exaggerated, a bit more pronounced than it might have been otherwise. Truth be told, he felt wonderful; even the bite on his fetlock caused him no pain whatsoever. His disagreement with Corduroy seemed dulled and a lot less worrisome. 

When he got home, he was going to thank her for being such a good friend, yes he was. 

That dusk apple brew had quite a kick and when he started to drink that huge tankard, he worried that he might not be able to finish it. But when he got near the bottom, he'd found that he couldn't even imagine not finishing it, and he rather wanted a second. But Snowtart Apple told him to be a responsible pony and then she sent him on his way. Which was sad, really, because she'd sent him off without so much as a kiss goodbye, and that… that was tragic. 

But he would recover, yes he would. 

Against all odds. 

So pretty. Everything was so pretty. And with his eyes opened, with his new vision, Sundance could not help but wonder if this was how his nocturnal cousins saw the night. Every twig, every leaf, every blade of grass, all of it had a silver hue, a sort of glow. But only living things. Dead things such as rocks had no glow, no silvery luminescence. Which was sad, really, and made Sundance think of his own mortality. His grandmother, now departed, would have no silver glow. Her light had long since faded. 

The momentary onslaught of sadness was almost too much to bear. 

"I'm a pretty birdy," he said to himself as he examined the shimmering glow emanating from his wings. "Who's a pretty birdy? Me… that's who. Who. Who? If I ask who, am I an owl? I must be an owl. What a revelation. I am an owl, a creature wise and wonderful. Hoot hoot, motherplucker." 

A nearby bird scolded him for the crude crassification of his coarse language, and Sundance felt awful. 

"I'm sorry… I don't know what came over me. I'm feeling quite peculiar, bird-friend. Please, forgive me. I must be off. No more shall I trouble you, bird-friend." 

Then, after a good hiccup, Sundance went zooming off into the gloom. 



 

Sweet, sweet music tickled Sundance's ears and beckoned to him like a siren's song. Just ahead, there was what appeared to be a wall of trees and briars. Bladed thorns glistened with sticky sap and vines along the ground slithered like agitated serpents. There was an entrance though, made of two trees that formed a beautiful peaked arch. It was a thing of incredible beauty, so much so that it caused a tipsy Sundance to get weepy eyed—though the music might also have something to do with it. 

As he passed through the naturally formed gateway, he swallowed, and then froze in place because of what he saw. His eyes went from place to place as there was just far too much to take in all at once. Slender, graceful towers made of smooth shaped stone. Curious bulbous trees, also shaped into residences. Ornate bridges and swooping walkways connected overhead. There were domes here as well, but these were made of glass and what appeared to be living wood. How such things were possible befuddled Sundance, and he could do naught but stand slack-jawed as he took everything in. 

Water flowed from hundreds of fountains. It poured from shaped spouts in the trees and towers. Ponds and canals streamed around delicate curves. Luminescent lilies cast a pale yellow light and illuminated the water. The sound—the sound—the babble of the flowing water was so soothing that it was almost a lullaby. A nearby unicorn was shaping some water, causing it to dance, shimmy, and sway in time to the rise and swells of the sweet strings that made the most beautiful music. 

Nothing in Sundance's life had prepared him for this beauty. 

While he helplessly gawped, a blob of water went floating by. No, not just a blob of water; there was a fish inside it and as the fish flapped its fins, the globby blob of water meandered through the air. Sundance gave it all of his attention—and why wouldn't he? He'd never seen a fish take its own water to go on a sightseeing swim. Then he noticed other bubbular blobs of water floating and flowing about, and he knew that these too, also had fish in them. 

A lone tear slalomed down Sundance's cheek, but was soon joined by others. 

Entranced, his knees almost knocking, Sundance tried to make sense of how something this fantastical could possibly exist in the world. A sightseeing fish almost clipped his ear and Sundance ducked his head, fearful that he might somehow pop a passing blob of water. Unknown to himself, he stumbled toward the music, pulled like a puppet on strings, beckoned by some irresistible, invisible force that could not be denied. 

Nearby, a bat-winged nocturnal pegasus mare gave a stern lecture to her two foals. 

Soon enough, Sundance found himself amongst a number of ponies that had gathered for the concert. A grey mare, her eyes closed, swayed as she drew her bow over her cello. Beside her, a chocolate brown pegasus colt and a gleaming white unicorn filly accompanied her with stringed instruments of their own. Sundance didn't know what they were, but they appeared to be violins—though one was slightly larger than the other. 

As for the golden-maned gleaming white unicorn, when she played her violin, it made the most curious sound, almost as if crickets were chirping. It seemed apropos somehow, here in a land touched by night. The sounds she made were haunting, beautiful, and impossible to describe in any sort of meaningful way. Sundance watched the trio, mindful of sightseeing fish that swam about, and quite without meaning to do so, he lost himself in this enchanted moment. 

With his mission all but forgotten, Sundance sat down in the cool, moist grass and made himself comfortable. He was a stranger, but the ponies around him seemed friendly enough. A few looked at him, but nothing was said—no greetings were offered. Whilst he sat in the grass, held fast by the enchanting music, Sundance concluded that he needed to find musicians of his own. He could offer them food and a place to live. Surely somepony would find that offer irresistible. Some down and out musician would probably jump at such a chance. 

Unbeknownst to Sundance, a black-cloaked unicorn moved closer to him, creeping up from behind, and dark sunglasses shimmered within the shadows of her billowing voluminous hood. She moved with remarkable grace and silence, her heavy cloak flowing around like silken liquid. Most peculiarly, she did not disturb the grass with her passing, as if her cloak hovered an inch above the ground, and she snuck up on Sundance whilst he remained lost in his oblivion. 

"Well… hello, Lord Sundance. It's about time you paid us a visit." 

The unicorn's stealthy whisper almost made him jump right out of his skin. 

"Phew, how much night cider did you drink? You barely need a thimble-full to get the vision. No wonder you're so mooney eyed. Shh, don't shout. That's rude. I am Desdemona of the Darkness… the Dark Lady… the devourer of souls." 

When his blood ran cold, Sundance shivered violently. He turned to face the stranger and saw that she was laughing. A pale yellow-white nose could be seen within the shadows obscuring her face, and her billowing cloak rippled whilst her slight body shook with laughter. She reached out and touched him, placing a pale hoof upon the base of his neck, and he shivered once more at the sensation of her cool touch. 

"I'm sorry… I just couldn't help myself. You made it far too easy. I'm Vinyl Scratch. You're Lord Sundance. This is Lulamoon Hollow." She paused to draw in a short breath. "How's things? Nice of you to finally visit. We've been expecting you." 

Before Sundance could respond—his barrel still heaving from surprise—the cloaked mare whipped out a frilly parasol from somewhere beneath her cloak, whipped it open, held it over her head, and sat down. Merry laughter shook her body and once Sundance recovered a bit from his shock, he managed to chuckle a bit. Then, quite suddenly, he felt good about everything in existence and had himself a good laugh. 

"Pebble will be pleased that you are here," the cloaked mare said to him. "Though I am unsure of why you are here. What brings you here today? We've been waiting for your arrival, but what finally brings you to our moonlit paradise?" 

"I need to learn how to fight. How to protect me and mine. It's time to take a more active role and earn my keep." 

"Hmm." Vinyl Scratch reached up with one hoof and rubbed her chin. "A baron who worries about earning his keep. Sounds like somepony I know." Pulling her hoof away, she leaned in closer to Sundance. "If you're here to see Sumac, prepare for disappointment. He's off on business. The dead keep him busy." 

"Oh, I know," Sundance replied. "When my grandmother died, he was there for me." 

She fanned her hoof in front of her face and said, "Wow, you are soused. Don't breathe on me. Whew." Lowering her hoof, she giggled, rather like a school filly, and she pulled her head back. "You poor, poor pegasus. Megara is going to destroy you." 

Something about this statement was so unnerving that Sundance gulped. 

"Well"—she sighed out her first word—"you've come to the right place. And you're doing the right thing. Learning to fight is wise. The best way to learn how to fight is to go adventuring. That's how Meg teaches. She'll take you on an adventure and mostly keep you safe enough to not die… though you'll probably take some lumps. While you fumble your way through a few fights, she'll assess you, what you can do, what you can't do, and she'll try to come up with the lessons you need to teach you what you need to know. Keep in mind, this is an involved process. There's no quitting… not without consequences. This will be hard." 

Unsure of what to say, he nodded. 

"Sit a spell. Enjoy the concert. Maybe sober up a bit. I'll take you to see Meg soon enough…" 



 

The two ponies formed a single statue. A closer inspection revealed extensive damage; cracks, chips, fissures, and after a thorough examination, Sundance concluded that the stone statue had been shattered. Even worse, he realised that the two ponies were the Royal Pony Sisters—and he found that he was quite suddenly sober in the absolute worst way. It was shattered. Exploded. Blasted asunder. All of the little bits had been painstakingly put back together, rather like a puzzle, but parts were still missing. Surely, with rock shapers around, the statue could be restored, made smooth, flawless and without blemish. But the evidence of the terrible damage remained. 

"This is the Chapel of Night and I am the Herald of Selene," Vinyl Scratch said to Sundance, whose full attention was focused upon the damaged statue. "I am part of the wizarding branch of Equestria's druidic order. I brought you here so that you might see Pebble's legacy. That it sobered you right up is a bonus." When she sighed, the prolonged exhale came out as a heavy sound that conveyed great pain. 

"Pebble's gift is that she can talk to rocks and rocks talk to her. When she was still young, she found one of these stones, and it almost killed her. She spent about a week in a slumber that was mere inches away from death. All this time, she was trapped in a nightmare, and in this nightmare, she watched over and over as Princess Luna shattered this statue of her and her sister. All of that hatred, all of her bile… every negative feeling that could be found within her heart, mind, body, and soul… she poured them into her magic and then she unleashed that magic upon this very statue. 

"It burst, of course. Shattered. It fractured into fragments. The pieces got scattered all around Lulamoon Hollow. They found their way into gardens. Flower beds. Into the many ponds and creeks and cricks. And so began their lonely isolation as each and every piece longed to be with the others. A little bit of Princess Luna went into the stones. Something good, something pure. To hear her tell the story, she cast aside the best parts of herself before the nightmare took over… at least, this is what she believes. Even today, after so much healing, she's not sure. But when she poured out her emotion into her magic, parts of her departed with it. 

"And the story of the statue might have been forgotten, were it not for a curious filly with a gift that allows her to give voice to stone. She found a piece one day… and I've already told you that part of the story. But after she woke up, that's when her work began. Little by little, bit by bit, she's been hunting the pieces down and trying to soothe their ancient but still remembered hurt. This statue is the sum of her labour… but it represents so much more. 

"One statue, two sisters. Two sisters, one soul. A soul spread between two bodies. Such is the great duality. Two sisters, with one only as strong as the weaker. You might as well claim to love one eye over the other, but if the truth be told, both eyes work best together to give a clear, whole picture, and both eyes are useless without the mind that gives them vision. This duality will be made clear to you in time, Sundance… but just as there are two sisters… sisters who, just like this statue, were left shattered by a terrible event… there are two lands. 

"These lands are less than whole. One can only be as strong as the other is weak. Just as the two sisters have been brought together, so two must these lands. They must be made whole… like this statue, which weeps and mourns its lost pieces. It is a sum of its parts, and it is less than whole. Pebble's legacy, her great work, it symbolises that which is yet to come." 

As Sundance stood watching, a tear formed in the statue's eye and rolled down the cracked stone cheek. He did not understand how such a thing was possible, and such miraculous happenings could only be attributed to magic. Vinyl Scratch's words were heavy in his ears, yet somehow far weightier upon his heart, which felt squished and compressed within his barrel. Extending one wing, with great caution and even more reverence, he wiped away the tear before it fell to the floor. 

Candles flickered from non-existent breezes and shadows danced upon the ruined surface of the stone statue. About half of Princess Celestia's horn was missing. There were dreadful cracks and chips missing from both eyes. One of Princess Luna's ears was absent. Sundance, his pupils now wide black pools, made himself take in every inch, and as he did so, he felt a curious prickle within his brain, sort of like when River Raider was deep within the recesses of his mind. 

"The land has memories, Sundance. Stone and soil remember. Pebble is proof of that. The rocks here will tell you a dreadful tale… and I am certain that the lands of your barony also have much to say. In time, you might know more of this story, if you learn to somehow listen. We've been waiting for you here. Waiting for you to come to us." 

After a bit of a pause, it seemed as though Vinyl Scratch was about to say more, but she lapsed into silence as her ears went rigid. She listened intently for a moment, her narrow nostrils rounding themselves with each inhale and exhale. In front of him, the statue shed yet another miraculous tear, and this one too was wiped away by Sundance. A strange prickle could be felt in his feathers now, the tingly kiss of magic. 

"Ah, she comes," Vinyl Scratch said to him. "Lord Sundance… I present to you Lady Pebble of Lulamoon Hollow…"
> The Dominator
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance had never compared a mare to a living slab of chocolate before, but then again, he'd never actually ran into a mare that was, in fact, a living slab of chocolate. Pebble Pie was a mare hewn from chocolate rock and given life. Broad withers, legs like trees, a neck as girthy and as solid as his barrel—she was stunning perfection. At the moment, she seemed to be studying him, just as he studied her, but he did what he did for all of the wrong reasons. Before he could make a fool of himself, he gave himself a silent reminder that this was Sumac's wife—and just like that, the spell was broken. Freed, but not at all recovered, Sundance turned away to look at the statue of the two sisters instead. 

Without a word, Vinyl Scratch departed. 

So this was her. The mare that dominated the leaderboard. She embodied earth pony perfection. Awkwardly, Sundance hazarded another look at her and then had trouble tearing his eyes away. She wore a dark dull green smock that highlighted her dark-coffee chocolate brown hide in all the right ways. It wasn't the fancy sort of clothing that one might expect on a lady, but plain, practical garb. Before his brain could betray him, he took a deep breath and reined himself in. 

"You're not what I expected," she deadpanned. "Both Sumac and Silver Lining have said so much about you. You are nothing like what I pictured in my head." 

"Oh," he replied. This felt wrong however, and so he searched for something else to say. "Where is Silver Lining anyhow? I miss her. Would be nice to see her." 

"She's with Sumac, in Canterlot. Hopefully, she's giving him a headache." 

What a curious thing to say, Sundance thought to himself. 

"Please, follow me," Pebble said. "Let us go somewhere more comfortable. This room is nice for setting a mood, perhaps. But it messes with me if I stay too long. While it is important for you to see this, I think it would be better for both of us if we talk elsewhere." 

"Sure," he replied. "Lead the way." 



 

The parlour—if it could be called that, Sundance could not recall ever sitting in a parlour—was cosy and comfortable. The Chapel of Night was connected to a shaped tree and the parlour was inside of the massive, bulbous trunk. It was much like Grandmother Oak back home. Sundance had questions—so many questions, such as how did a pony keep warm inside of a hollow tree in the middle of winter? Did it get cold in here? How would Paradox keep warm come winter? Trees shaped into houses seemed terribly impractical. 

"So you came to learn how to fight," Pebble deadpanned. 

"Yes." He offered up a polite bob of his head. "Um, Vinyl Scratch, she uh, she said that she would take me to see Megara." 

"But now you're here with me." 

"Um…" His attempt to speak trailed off. 

"As circumstances would have it, not too long before you arrived, my sister went and picked a fight with a roc that's been causing some problems and poaching livestock. It was given a fair warning and was told quite plainly in roc-talk that if it continued to cause problems, it would be dealt with. Harshly. Right now, she's still probably scrubbing roc gizzards out of her mane." 

Sundance's sudden swallow was quite audible in the intimate space. 

"There'll be a feast tonight. You should stick around." 

Something about this suggestion caused his stomach to lurch and he was quick to change the subject. "So… she just went off and picked a fight with… what's a roc, anyhow?" 

"A big dumb giant idiot bird that I am told tastes delicious. And yes, that is what my sister does. She goes off and picks fights with things. It's something she gets from our father. Violence isn't always the answer… but sometimes, it is the only answer. My father and my sister are skilled at artistic response. And by artistic, I mean painting an area with blood and festooning it with guts. My father… and my sister… they have a reputation."

"And you?" he asked. 

"I choose to be diplomatic." 

Ears pricked, Sundance assumed that this was a diplomatic response. The mare sitting across from him appeared to be more than capable of violence and physicality. He thought about her choice of words, the choice to be diplomatic, and it occurred to him that she had said quite a lot by saying very little. Perhaps he could learn something here, if he paid attention. He'd come here hoping to learn how to fight, but there were other lessons to be had. After a slight sigh, he allowed himself to be more at ease, and his muscles unkinked when he relaxed a bit. 

Pebble shifted in her chair, pressed her front hooves together, and focused her deadpan expression upon Sundance. "You and I have much in common, I think. All of this"—she pulled her front hooves apart and gestured at everything around her—"has consumed my life. While this land might be my husband's, this is not his passion. Don't get me wrong. He contributes and does his part. I would never belittle his contributions. 

"But this is my life. I can't imagine doing anything else. My every waking hour is spent trying to awaken the potential of this place. Yet, for all of my work, I am left unsatisfied. Do you want to know why that is?" 

"If you'll tell me, I'll listen," he replied. 

Her deadpan expression softened ever-so-slightly. 

"Like the Royal Pony Sisters themselves, our lands share a bond. A connection. I am deeply unsatisfied with the state of your lands. Though, perhaps I should make clear that I bear no animosity towards you." She blinked and her stony expression further softened, like butter approaching room temperature, or chocolate ice cream left out on the counter. "Silver Lining and I sent gifts. We were rebuked by the previous lord of the land for doing so. But now that he's dead and gone… good riddance… we can get to work." 

"You've built a paradise here," he said to her, and then he fumbled for more to say. 

"It had a good foundation," she replied. "But like the shattered statue in the chapel, it suffers. This land will not be great until both lands are great. To that end, I am going to send my Manticore at Arms home with you. Not only will she teach you how to fight, but she will assess the situation so that we can sort out how best to help you." 

"That's incredibly generous of you." 

"It has nothing to do with being generous, and everything to do with necessity. I know all about your deal with Twilight. She sent delegates to speak with me about the matter. There's been some back and forth, and while no firm plans have been made, I can tell you that we're willing to help." 

Overwhelmed at this point, Sundance sank back into his chair as his vision blurred over. 

"Speaking of generous acts"—once more, Pebble pressed her front hooves together—"I understand that you've taken in River Raider. That was kind of you. Megara will be happy to see her friend and hunt-mate once more." 

Sundance's response spilled out of him in a surprising way. "She never mentioned anything about friends. From what little I've been able to gather from her, she's something of a loner. She has friends? Is there more that I should know? How do I help her?" 

"I suppose the friendship might have been one-sided." A soft sigh caused Pebble's barrel to rise and fall, while her nostrils flared from narrow to wide. She wickered briefly, blinked, and then tilted her head off to one side so that she might study Sundance better. "How is she, by the way?" 

"She got mangled by spiders," Sundance replied without thinking about what he said. If Pebble was upset by this, she did not show it, and he could not help but feel a bit of guilt for his thoughtless response. "River is healing up nicely though. Her wings are slowly regenerating. Corduroy, my nurse, says that River is expected to make a full recovery." 

No response, just silence from the dark brown mare in the tall-backed chair. 

Almost squirming, Sundance attempted to recover himself. If he'd goofed, he'd have to make it up somehow. There was a chance that he hadn't goofed and this was just a garden variety awkward moment. Pebble's eyes were almost mesmerising and he found himself wondering how she saw the world as an earth pony. She could do more than merely speak to stone, he realised. This was a mare that could talk to the land itself, for what was land if not stone and soil? The sudden onslaught of distracting thoughts somehow made everything worse, and he took a moment to sort out his thoughts so that his mind might be quieted. 

"I've tried to be River's friend… but it's hard. Not only does she push me away… but there are… uh… other complications that arise." He winced from his poor choice of words. Arise was just a terrible thing to say, given the circumstances. Even worse, this was surely something that would stick in his mind, like sidewalk bubblegum stuck to a passing pony's hoof. 

River Raider would know. 

It would be awkward. 

"River has that whole, uh, uncontrolled telepathy thing going on and that makes things difficult. She, uh, well… she seems to know my thoughts better than I do and she's revealed a few things about me that I was unaware of. And there is, uh… well, there is the matter of…" 

Pebble, almost smirking, gestured with her hoof. "Oh, do go on." 

"Um… there is the matter of… uh…" Try as he might, Sundance could not bear to reveal the truth to Pebble, and he suspected that she'd already figured it out. Perhaps he'd spent too much time gawking at her. The intensity of the moment proved too much to bear and he wished that he could turn into a puddle so that he might vanish beneath his chair.

"Perhaps some needs are more immediate. Do you have a type, Sundance?" 

"I don't know what you mean!" he squeaked. 

"Oh, don't be coy," she said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. "You need a baroness. I pay attention to the gossip. Not because I like it, but because it is useful." 

"I don't know what you mean!" he squeaked again. 

This time, Pebble rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. "You acted like a lovesick colt the moment you laid eyes on me and you clearly have a thing for River Raider. That tells me a lot. You either have a penchant for unobtainable mares or we fit your type. Which is it?" 

"I don't know what you mean!" he squeaked for the third time. 

"Finding you a baroness is going right on the checklist. Denial is a clear acknowledgment of a problem." 

After closing his eyes, Sundance hid his burning face behind his trembling wing. 

At the moment, all he could remember was Skyla suggesting that he try dating Nutmeg and it was right now, at this very moment that his brain connected all of the dots. As his brain screamed out a warning, he sat in total silence, uncertain of what to do or say. He was about to meet Nutmeg, also known as Megara. The Manticore of Lulamoon Hollow. How could he be so oblivious? When his stomach lurched, he gulped, but this did not stop his tummy from doing flip-flops. 

Explaining his obliviousness was easy: when he got scared, he got stupid. 

So what was it about all of this that scared him so? 

When he stopped to think about it, it didn't take long for all of his thoughts to come spilling out in a halting confession: "Finding a baroness… that's scary… it means facing my insecurities head-on and doing something about them. If it was just me… just me in my old life… I might have been fine alone. Or I might have found somepony. The cities are a lonely place, at least from what I've seen. If I did find somepony… I might have settled down with anypony with a pulse and said it was better than I deserved. 

"Going that way… we pegasus ponies call it flying with the breeze behind you… means never having to face my own inadequacies. But finding a baroness is flying into a headwind. Constant effort. It means I have to be picky. And being as insecure as I am, it means trying to find a girl that my mind will tell me is way out of my league. I've only had some recent successes just talking to mares and other females. The very idea of having to up my standards for the sake of the barony scares me to death." 

"So let me get this straight," Pebble deadpanned. "You're willing to learn how to fight so that you can pick fights with strangers and potentially kill them… but girls scare you?" 

"Um"—he hesitated to answer, but his mouth betrayed him—"yes?" 

"Fighting will have to be our secondary objective," she said to Sundance. "First, we need to sort out your confidence and deal with those insecurities of yours." 

"Uh, well, I… that, um, well, that's just—" 

"Look… I was a fat filly. I was a fat filly who felt sweaty and gross all the time. I didn't make peace with myself and my body until just recently." Eyes now narrowed, there was expressive emotion to be seen upon Pebble's face, though what it was remained unknown. Something fierce and warm though. "And Silver Lining… oh goodness, you have no idea. Crippling shyness." As her head turned from side to side, she clucked her tongue, the sound of which almost echoed in the cosy room. 

"Crippling shyness?" he somehow managed to ask without any hesitation. 

"Now, she's the heart and soul of this place. The warmth. She's the sunshine." Pausing for a moment, Pebble's face scrunched into an expression of wizened, wrinkly worry. "Meg can sort you out. She's good at that. It's like she has a knack. She somehow knows how to help a pony find their confidence. Maybe it happens when she teaches them to fight. But she's helped others… others not interested in fighting. She's good with foals. My father"—she sighed and suffered a slight pause—"has an ego made of glass. Meg is very, very good at putting all the little pieces back together when he shatters." 

He thought about how his lack of confidence led to the shouting match with Hollyhock and winced. Foolhardy bravery was not confidence, not at all, not even in the slightest. It was just magically enhanced idiocy. While he could ride on his foolhardy bravery like a tailwind, at some point, probably when it mattered most, it would fail him. Possibly at a time when it would be downright disastrous. Getting himself sorted out would be giving those in his care the leader they deserved. So this was no longer about just fighting, but more about self-improvement. 

"I think you're beautiful," he blurted out without thinking. 

In response, Pebble offered a perfunctory nod of her head and a pricking of her fuzzy brown ears. "So I've gathered. That is kind of you to say. I've learned that in the wide, wide world of Equestria, I am bound to be somepony's type. So are you. Just something to keep in mind." 

"But meeting them is the trick, ain't it?" 

"I suppose it is," she replied as she lapsed into thoughtfulness. "There are matchmaker marriages in the Crystal Empire just for that purpose." 

Without a thought for his words, he found himself asking, "Do those really work?" 

"Astonishingly well," was Pebble's response. "Princess Cadance has it down to a science. She can't guarantee a soulmate, but she can typically manage to find a pony a surprisingly tolerable best friend that is remarkably easy to spend the rest of your life with." 

Love or friendship? Sundance thought to himself. Distracted, he thought of Twilight, and what she'd said on the matter. Maybe settling down with a friend was enough. Friends could be physical, if they so chose to do so. Surely, love was something that came with time and familiarity. It wasn't a whirlwind romance, but rather stolid practicality. As his thoughts became increasingly scattered, deep furrows appeared above his brows, and crinkles in the corners of his eyes. 

While searing-hot romance would be nice, perhaps a quiet friendship would do. 

Such a thing might suit him. 
> Manticore? Tell me more!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A manticore had a way to fill up the room. Of course, Megara the Lioness wasn't a pure-blooded manticore—not that it mattered—and she wasn't quite as large as her full-blooded kin—not that it mattered—but she was an immense, powerful creature of legendary proportions. It would take her two or three bites to eat a pony, instead of just gobbling them up in one go. She was chocolate brown, just like Pebble, and had a shock of cinnamon candy red mane that exploded outwards in all directions. Her front legs were longer and thicker than her back legs, and bowed outwards rather like a bulldog. Like all manticores, she had a bit of an underbite, and two petite tusks poked upwards on each side of her muzzle. Of particular note, she had horns, which some manticores had, though Sundance didn't know if they were magical in nature. 

When he looked at her, he felt a curious tautness in his inner thigh muscles. 

"Sundance, this is Megara. My sister." The stout earth pony cast a sidelong glance up at her sibling and then said, "Nutmeg, this is Sundance." 

"This is Sundance?" The unimpressed manticore spawn let go a powerful snort that blew her sister's mane off to one side. "He picked a fight with an owlbear?" 

"Meg… please. For once—" 

"There's not much to him, Pebble. Not much at all. What am I supposed to work with, exactly?" 

"You will work with what you are given," Pebble deadpanned. 

"I'm standing right here," Sundance said to the siblings. 

"Indeed, you are," Megara said to him, "and now that I look at you, I'm somewhat concerned. Have you considered library work perhaps? Chartered accountancy? Bookkeeping. Something indoors?" 

Pebble grunted and rolled her eyes. 

Shoving her smaller sister aside, Megara stomped forwards, got right up into Sundance's face, and then lowered her head until their noses were almost touching. He couldn't help but notice that just one of her front legs was thicker than the whole of his body, and she had a satisfying solidity that spoke to him in some weird way that he did not wish to acknowledge. There was something equine about her, but also something leonid. Every single one of her whiskers quivered as she sniffed him and her fiery orange eyes had a scary preternatural glow to them. 

"Well, go on"—she spoke in a playfully condescending tone—"attack me. Show me what you can do. I can see that you're angry, so why don't you do something about it. Let me have it." 

Since she asked for it… he decided to let her have it. 

"I feel sorry for whomever has the chore of changing your litterbox," he said to the manticore spawn that towered over him. "I bet you leave behind some scary-big kitty crunchies." 

There was a gasp as Pebble took several steps backwards. Meanwhile, Megara continued to stare down at him, as if she sized him up for a meal, and after several long seconds, a wry smirk spread over the left side of her muzzle. Quite unexpectedly, she reached out, bapped him with her enormous broad paw, and almost sent him tumbling from the affectionate force of her gesture. 

"I can work with that," she said to her sister. "He's soft cookie dough, but he's got a mouth on him." 

Sundance, who attempted to recover himself, struggled to get his legs steady beneath him. The playful bapping almost took him right to the floor and it occurred to him that if she so desired, Megara could break every bone in his body with no real effort on her part. Something about this realisation set a fire in his belly, and left his hindquarters a bit too hot for comfort. Megara was looking down at him, and once he found some strength in his noodly legs he stared up at her in bold defiance. 

She was a monster—but an attractive one. 

"There's a bit more to you than I expected," Megara said whilst she gestured with her still-raised paw. "You didn't attack me. Honestly, I thought you would. You've got that general air of stupidity and that 'act first, think later' about you. Consider me pleasantly surprised. That you chose wit as a weapon bodes well for you, Morsel." 

With nothing to say in response, Sundance chose to stand in silent defiance. 

"Can't tell if this is courage or general stupidity," Megara said, mostly to herself. "Might be a bit of both. I've heard some stories about you, Sundance. Like flying into Canterlot during a full on gale. The gentry had themselves a pretty good laugh about it. So… tell me… do you want to learn how to handle yourself in a fight?" 

Without hesitation he replied, "Yes." 

"This won't happen overnight." Extending her still-raised paw, she poked at him a few times, touched his scarred neck, and seemed to be examining him. "It'll be painful. And bloody. And humiliating at times. And did I mention that it'll be bloody and painful? I don't make soldiers. That's not my way. There'll be no fighting with honour. No code of conduct. Sometimes, soldiers lose because they are soldiers." 

She thumped her neck with her paw whilst she stared down her muzzle at Sundance. 

"Around here, we fight to win. We fight dirty. Every dirty trick, every dishonorable deed… we do them. We toss sand in the eyes and gash the groin. We don't fight fair. If this bothers you, you need to tell me now before we commit to this. I don't wanna waste my time. There's others I could be helping." 

This time, before he offered up his response, Sundance had himself a bit of a think. He was a baron. A lord of the land. With these titles, a certain amount of honour was expected of him. He was supposed to act a certain way. Follow a code of conduct. But then he thought of Corduroy, and her insistence that he send out others to fight in his stead. Perhaps fighting in general wasn't expected of him. He thought of Flicker, a fellow lord. Flicker was rough, coarse, and a fighter. 

The issue was more complicated than he realised. As Sundance stood there, uncertain, the whole of his future stretched out before him. So much depended upon this moment. This would be his legacy. His future. What he chose to do right now would define him as a ruler. He thought of the previous Milord and his expression soured as a bad taste manifested in his mouth. What would Princess Celestia expect of him? Should he be Sundance the Honourable? 

No, he decided. 

"We fight to win," he said to Megara, "or not at all." 

She struck him a second time; a playful, affectionate gesture that almost sent him right down to the floor. Electric sparks danced around his teeth as they clattered against each other and fiery pain blossomed in every joint in his body as the shockwave of her not-so-tender touch bounced recklessly through him. The pain was such that it left him woozy-headed, and as he stood there trying to hide his discomfort he had his first second thoughts. 

"You look like you're about to pass out," she remarked. 

"Is it that obvious?" he asked. 

With a mock-serious expression, she stood nodding while also replying, "I'm gonna do a whole lot worse to ya. You can't even imagine. Last chance… wanna back out?" 

Teeth clenched so his mouth couldn't betray him, he shook his head from side to side. 

"Whew, you two are getting along. Well, in the way that my sister gets along. Which is to say that she generally doesn't. That's why she's the Manticore at Arms." Pebble sighed, then moved closer. "I am so relieved." 

"It seems that we have a lot to talk about," Megara said. "We should go do that." 



 

A change of scenery brought about a change of mood. Sundance, thoughtful and distant, hadn't said much at all. He was content to allow others to talk. Pebble had much to say, things worth hearing, and it only made sense for him to listen to her. The plan, such as it was, was laid out. Megara would come to the Sunfire Barony. He would learn how to handle himself in a fracas. Then, while it was summer and the days were long, excursions would be made into the northern lands of the Sunfire Barony to deal with some of the problems that lived there. Megara would keep him alive and out of trouble; that was her mission. He would learn to fight and bring order to his lands; that was his mission. 

If everypony did their part, both baronies and Equestria at large would prosper. 

Megara the Lioness lived in a den. It wasn't some smelly hole in the ground; far from it, though she did live beneath a tree. The root system and the earth were shaped to form a large, roomy domicile—something big enough for the enormous manticore spawn to live comfortably in. There was no bare earth, but rather, smooth, flowing shaped stone and wood. Rather than flat surfaces and hard angles, there were rounded corners and gentle slopes. It was pleasant and Sundance found himself rather taken with it as a living space. 

For Sundance, a city-dweller, Megara's den forever changed what a living space was. He'd grown up in apartments; buildings made of brick, steel, glass, and wood. Hard right angles with straight walls and floors. Curves were rare things, inefficient space far too often sacrificed for the sake of necessity. Square footage was all that mattered and justified the astronomical cost of rent. 

Twisted, gnarled roots formed columns and pillars that separated the rooms in strange organic ways. As for the rooms themselves, some had walls of shaped stone, while other rooms had a curtain hung between roots. Something about it all tickled his imagination and left him thoughtful. It changed everything Sundance believed a room to be in much the same way the dome homes redefined what a living space was. 

"Do you understand your objectives?" asked Pebble, who sat comfortably upon a patchwork pillow. 

"I do," Megara replied with a polite nod to her sibling. "You want me to go to the Sunfire Barony. By the end of the summer, I am to have this fella"—she stabbed her extended paw-finger in Sundance's general direction—"in fighting shape. On top of all of that, you want the northern reaches of the Sunfire Barony and the Tarhollow region pacified. Because that's been a thorn in our side for a while, and you fear that trouble might move south with all the publicity and exposure the barony has had recently." 

Sundance too, now worried about this more than a little since it was brought up. 

"Permission to speak freely," Megara said to her sister. 

Impassive, Pebble did not react when she deadpanned in return, "This is not a formal affair." 

The manticore spawn reached up, rubbed the side of her neck with her paw, and then she attempted to smooth out the curly ringlets of her shock of cinnamon candy mohawk. "Maybe so, but… uh, this is bound to be hurtful." 

"The way I see it"—Pebble's deadpan was a fair bit more deadpanny than usual when she spoke—"you're about to cause Sundance a lot of pain in the very near future. Because of this, you shouldn't be so worried about hurting him now. If you've got something to say, do so now. He's a big boy. Brutal honesty might sting a little, but that's life." 

Before Sundance could offer his own opinion, Megara had her say. 

"Pebble, you've given me a tall order. Might be biting off more than I can chew. It's not just keeping two lands safe, or doubling the size of the territory that I have to patrol… though that is worrisome too in its own way… but I don't have much to work with. This guy"—she turned and made eye-contact briefly with Sundance—"no offence, is an overboiled noodle. He's soft. Weak. Gonna go out on a limb and say he has a glass jaw. What I am trying to say is, I don't have much to work with here so I don't know if I can promise the results I am known for." 

"You will make it work," Pebble said in a low, forceful deadpan. "Or you won't be coming home." 

"Oh… there it is. Lady Dominator. The win condition. I knew that was coming." 

"Circumstances demand results," Pebble said, her deadpan now logical, cold, and calculating. "Taken as a whole situation, nopony cares about individual excuses. This affects us all. You're the Manticore at Arms. Do your job… or step aside so that somepony else can." 

Sundance, who feared that he was the cause of this sibling squabble, tried to think of something to say. 

"I'll do my job. I'll do my best to get results. But if I am to be honest, I'm not sure what we can expect." 

"Make it work. I have faith in both of you. I am positive that Sundance has something he can contribute. Find a way. See that he does. Find his strength and work with that." 

"I will," Megara replied. "It's just… that's a lot to ask by the end of summer on top of everything else." 

"Perhaps form an adventuring troupe," Pebble suggested. "For all we know, Sundance might have valuable leadership skills. A company of adventurers might be just what he needs to shine. You will make it work, Nutmeg. You always do." 

Conflicted, torn by all that was said, but knowing that his own objectives had to be added to the heap because results really were all that mattered, Sundance interjected his own voice into the conversation and said, "One more thing. One more objective. One of my own." 

"And what would that be?" asked Pebble, who brought her dominating, calculating gaze to bear upon Sundance. 

He sighed, summoned his courage, and prepared to tell the two sisters about the peculiar behaviour of the animals on his lands, as well as the unsettling dread that dwelled in the mountains to the east… 
> In which the Lord of Sunfire Barony discovers cleavage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you get along with your sister?" asked Sundance as he followed along after Megara on their way to the armory. 

It was darker now, though Sundance couldn't guess the time. Thick clouds rolled in overhead, so the stars—were there any to be seen—were obscured. Ponies and other creatures were still very much active. There were no electric lights here, none that Sundance had seen, and the dim was lit with soft, warm glows cast by candles, lanterns, and magic. It was beautiful—and rather like home. 

"My sister and I are best sister-friends," Megara replied. 

"She seemed a bit hard on you just a bit ago," he said to her. 

"We're hard on each other, but you haven't seen that." 

"Hard on each other?" He was confounded, mostly because Pebble seemed to be in charge while Megara was a subordinate. One was clearly in charge while the other took orders, and this made him think a bit about the relationships he had with the creatures in his care. 

"I am accepted because Pebble tells others how I really am," Megara explained. "And then she makes sure that I really am that way. She holds me accountable. I am held to a very high standard. In return, I get acceptance that I might otherwise not have. I'm a monster… a manticore. When I was little, I was cute, and a curious little something that others found adorable. But now… as an adult… I am a manticore. I pick fights with rocs and dragons and other manticores and chimerae and ogres and whole armies of goblins and I win. I win and that scares you little ponies silly because I do it so effortlessly. The very thing that offers me some small amount of societal acceptance just so happens to also scare those I protect. Pebble deals with others so I don't have to. It's hard to be rational when you're about to piss yourself in fear." 

"I don't think you're so bad," he said as he doubled his pace to keep up with her. 

"That's kind of you to say," she replied as she slowed down slightly so that he might catch up. "I keep Pebble from overreaching. She's too aggressive for her own good. To focused on competing and winning. I'm better at threat assessment and I'm big enough and bossy enough to tell her when she's overextending or in over her head. She listens to me. I can tell her when she's being stupid… and I often do. Everything that we have, we have it because we work together. Pebble is new to the aristocracy. She's new blood. There's a lot of friction there… which you seem to be blissfully unaware of. But Pebble plays the game to win, because when she wins, we all win. She and I and Sumac and Silver Lining and Boomer, we've had to fight for every scrap we have. Fighting is what we know." 

One thing was true: Sundance did avoid the nobles, by and large. He kept to himself. Those he associated with came to him, like Flicker. Maybe this needed to change. But this worried him a bit, because there were rules that he didn't understand, and this sounded a bit like secondary school, the parts of it that he absolutely loathed. He just wanted to do his job, and not have to worry about a popularity contest. 

"We're here," Megara announced. "Welcome to the armory. Let's have a look around, shall we?" 



 

The armory was a narrow stone building that ran long and deep into the ground. There were stairs leading down, and then stairs leading up. Two balconies ran the length of the structure, which was just spacious enough for a pegasus to fly indoors. Racks of spears could be found closest to the door on the ground floor, with helmets stored on the balcony above. Bales of arrows could be seen on the right beyond the spear racks, and bows on the left. As he stood there taking it all in, Sundance could not help but wonder how much all of this cost. 

Equipping a garrison or arming a militia had to be expensive. 

Megara stopped just beyond the bows, next to a rack of weapons unfamiliar to Sundance. They looked like spears—but didn't. Long, thick handles, but not too long, with dangerous metal heads that looked a lot like swords—but didn't. The heads were too broad, too wide. Just heavy looking elongated triangles mounted on the end of a rather stubby pole. 

"What are those?" he asked. 

"Cleavers," she replied as she held out her broad paw towards them. "Traditional weapons of the Pegasus Pony Tribe. Take note of the shafts… thick and easy to grip with clumsy fetlocks. Part spear, part sword, and part axe. You fly by and take a swing at your enemy. It's a weapon that exploits momentum. Or, in a pinch, you can drop it on a foe. But then you're left weaponless." 

Sundance moved closer, leaned in, and examined the cleavers on the rack. He'd never heard of such things before, at least he could not recollect such a thing. Maybe they were mentioned in school, but he doubted it. These weapons had seen action. The wooden shafts were marred, scarred, and worn smooth in some places. He saw notches in the metal, along with scratches and gouges. 

"Spears replaced cleavers in many militias and guard regiments as a cost-cutting measure," Megara said to Sundance whilst she sat down on the floor and made herself comfortable. "Spears were lighter. Cheaper to make. Didn't require as much strength to be effective. Something tells me that cleavers aren't your thing." 

"I can't even imagine myself trying to use one," Sundance admitted. He turned away from the rack of cleavers to have himself a better look at Megara, and what he saw intrigued him. In his eyes, she seemed so at ease with herself and with life. He admired her confidence and rather wished that he was a bit more like her. 

"With the way that you're looking at me right now," she said matter-of-factly, "I would guess that you're imagining something else." 

There was so much that he wanted to say. So many responses. He wanted to tell her that he'd never seen a manticore up close before. Her eyes—now glowing like lit orange coals—were endlessly fascinating to him. What made them glow and how did said glow affect her vision? The more he looked at her, the more equine aspects that he spotted—the mere suggestion of equinity. She was a hybrid, a creature made of many parts. And her wings—she had interesting wings. Not bat wings, like the nocturnal pegasus ponies, but still membranous. He lacked a frame of reference to compare them to, which bothered him somehow in some way he didn't fully understand. 

She was a creature made of peculiarity. 

Sundance realised that he'd grown up and matured enough to look past all the things that might have once scared him. Ponies, in general, were wary of the unknown and things they didn't understand. For some, wariness was replaced with outright fear. He thought of his first meeting with Corduroy, which caused him immediate hot frustration with himself. Now, as he stood here studying Megara, he felt so stupid when he thought of his past self. 

"What's it like to be you?" he asked. 

Her whiskers quivered and her notched ears stood erect. "What kinda question is that?" 

"I just wanted to know—" 

"What's it like being me?" Bending and bowing her neck, she lowered her head down until she was at eye-level with the curious, questioning pegasus, which took some effort. "Well, ever since I was a little infanticore, I've struggled with acceptance. I started out as the runt of the litter, because I was part pony. So I got chewed on and I had it rough. Through remarkable circumstances, I got to live with my father, and I had a family that loved me dearly. I had a grandmother, and a grandfather that almost gave me cavities with all the candy he gave me on the sly. 

"He wanted me to feel special and loved. But when I was all hopped up on sugar, I became a tiny terror. Not sure if all that candy helped or made matters worse. But having a loving, accepting family made things worse. They did. Really. Because I knew what acceptance felt like, it hurt even more when I was rejected by other ponies. It stung. A lot. And as I got bigger, I got scarier, and it got so bad that some ponies in Ponyville actually started a petition to send me away. 

"So what's it like to be me? I have to protect scrawny little pipsqueaks that don't always want me around and aren't always as grateful as they should be. And that sucks eggs." 

Before he realised what was going on, a dreadful confession slipped out of his mouth: "I was once a problematic pony. But I'm getting better. I have friends that don't look like me at all and I think I'm kind of proud of that." 

When she half-smiled, he felt immeasurably better. 

That half-smile became a smirk when she asked, "Shouldn't you be picking out a weapon?" 

The question caught him off guard. What did he know about weapons? Not a thing. The pointy end got stabbed into something that you didn't much care for. With a turn of his head, he began to examine the cleaver on the rack just beside him. What would his mother say? It would inflict grievous bodily harm. With his luck, he'd do a flyby and it would get yanked right out of his grip. Or maybe no. After all, he had successfully buried a splitting maul into the back of an owlbear's skull, and this weapon worked on similar principles. 

He shivered when cold chills froze his dock. 

"Do you have any advice or suggestions?” he dared to ask. "Is there a weapon that you favour?" 

Right away, the she-manticore raised her right paw and rubbed her protruding fuzzy chin. She sat there for a moment, thoughtful, and then offered her response to Sundance's question when she said, "I don't need a weapon. I have me. My big, beautiful body is a weapon. My father says so too. Though he did say that I have sickening cleavage." 

"Sickening cleavage?" Some of the colour drained from Sundance's face and there was a soft swallow that disturbed the following silence. Then, before the silence could return in force, he asked, "Should a father say such things?" 

Puffing out, Megara smiled, and revealed multiple rows of teeth. "Oh, my father is proud of my sickening cleavage. When I was still just a little nipper, and growing into what I would one day be, he took notice of my cleavage and told me to develop it until I had the very best possible cleavage that a young girl could have. He gave me tips and advice so that my cleavage would be devastating. He wanted the whole world to see my cleavage… and be afraid. My dad is the best." 

"Devastating cleavage?" Sundance somehow managed to ask through his profound befuddling bewilderment. 

"I do my best work against crowds," Megara explained whilst she made a broad sweep with her raised paw. "It's like going swimming. I just dive in and then I go to work with my claws. Lotta broad swipes. The bigger the crowd is, the more successful I am. I mean, at a certain point, I can't miss. Just take a big swipe and heads and limbs just come right off. Guts get torn open and innards just spill right out. Panic takes over the crowd, and as the gore and grossness fountains, the enemy starts getting sick. There's usually vomit at some point, and then when there's vomit and blood and slippery noodle-de-doodly intestines all over the ground, and whatever I'm fighting falls over into the puddles of goo that I've made out of their comrades. They can't get away because everything is too slippery, and at this point, I am clawing at their backs and ripping out their spines and—say, you don't look so good, Morsel. Do you need some fresh air? What's wrong? Do I have carnivore breath?" 

"I'm fine," he squeaked as his stomach made a valiant attempt to crawl out of his throat and escape from his mouth. 

"I'm not very good at describing my sickening cleavage," she said, and was quick to offer an apology. "Really, I'm sorry about that. My dad… he's great about telling other ponies about my sickening cleavage. He'll tell anypony that'll listen. Very descriptive. He's very proud, you know. Loves to talk about his daughter's cleavage. I wish that every girl had a father like mine. The world would be a better place. Why, he's even told Princess Celestia all about my storied cleavage. She laughs when he tells her, but it's all in good fun." 

"Princess Celestia has heard about your cleavage?" He swallowed again, but could not be certain that his stomach would stay put. 

"Princess Celestia calls me the Huggernaut. She too, makes an effort to be cleavage-positive. Why, if I didn't have all this support, I might have turned out to be a very different manticore. I really am a lucky girl." 

"You are, really." 

"You're so sweet!" She gave Sundance another friendly bap and this time, she almost dislodged every last one of his teeth. While he swayed and tried to recover, she practically gushed as she spilled out more of her heart to him. "There's just so much that a girl has to worry about and having a good father helps. My dad is the best. He taught me how to fight. He beat the stuffing out of me and didn't hold back just because I was his sweet little Nutmeg." 

"Should a father do that?" asked Sundance, who now felt some measure of concern. 

"If a girl can't trust her father to beat the stuffing out of her, then who can she trust? If he would have held back and coddled me, I wouldn't be who and what I am now. And as for you, friend… I'm going to give you everything that I have to give, just like my father did with me. And you'll be better for it." She inhaled, her whiskers quivered, and she reached out to steady Sundance, who still swayed from side to side. "My father read books on how manticores rear their young. I think that helped. When and if I find a mate, he's going to have to go that extra mile, just like my father did. Because I deserve it!" 

"You do," Sundance replied as pinpricks of light exploded in and out of his vision. 

"We still haven't found you a weapon." 

For a moment, the pain threatened to overwhelm Sundance, but he somehow managed to recover. As a throbbing sun came to life beneath the skin where he was struck, it occurred to him that this would only get worse. These little baps would either toughen him up, or they would break him. He thought about what she'd said, about how weak he was, and his jaw firmed up a bit as he became determined to prove her wrong. 

"I have a few javelins at home," he said to her. "Started to teach myself how to throw them… but then life happened as I was busy making plans." 

"Javelins, huh?" Raising her right paw, she extended a black claw from her index paw-finger and then picked at her teeth for a moment, perhaps because she was worried about carnivore breath. "That would keep you out of the fray… maybe. And that might mean less headache for me. Can you throw?" 

"Maybe?" He shrugged with his wings. "River Raider seemed to think I was average." 

The she-manticore heaved a long sigh, then shook her head. "Then you can probably throw just fine. River has wacky standards on what is average. Let's get you a quiver of javelins and get out of here. And maybe some war darts. Yeah, let's do that. I just might have something to work with." 

Sundance—who was practically smitten with his new teacher—nodded. 

"Come on, you. Let's get what we need and then go find Pebble so that we can tell her that we're leaving…" 
> Picking over the details
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cool evening air made breathing a pleasure, as did the fragrant perfume of flowers. Sundance—sated by a light meal of salad greens with some kind of vinegar dressing—had no insecurity left within him and just enjoyed the company he found himself sharing a table with. The meal was served on a raised deck that offered a spectacular view of the surrounding town. Satisfied by his repast, Sundance felt inspired by all that he had seen and witnessed. It had given him ideas. He had a new sense of direction. This place had embraced the night, and was more beautiful because of it.

Sunfire Barony would somehow embrace the day. 

There was music, there was dancing, there was an abundance of joy just waiting to be shared. This place was nothing at all like the big city—but Sundance knew that it could be. During their meal, Pebble spoke of population management and control. He'd barely understood half of it, but nodded and smiled whilst he made every effort to pay attention. Mostly, Pebble spoke of desperation, which he did understand. Management came down to preventing desperation. Find the sources, the causes, seek out discontent and root them out. All of which became harder and harder to do as the population multiplied. 

A paper lantern floated by, borne away by the gentle breeze. 

"We must get River Raider back to good health," Pebble said to Sundance. She paused, half-smiled, and waited for his startled state to subside. "To that end, I am sending you home with a phial of troll tincture." 

"Troll tincture?" With a turn of his head, Sundance gave Pebble his full attention. 

"Yes, and you must never, ever, under any circumstances attempt to use it on yourself or another pony, no matter how tempting it might be. Only River Raider and Nutmeg may safely use it." Pebble leaned in, her eyes flinty, and she gestured at her sister. "It is a dangerous concoction. Few can survive it. Ponies most certainly cannot." 

"Why though?" asked Sundance, who wanted to know more. 

"To put it plainly," Pebble began, "River Raider and Nutmeg are monsters. They're not at all like you and I. Their physiology is different. Distinct. Unique. Troll tincture is concentrated troll essence and for most of the gentle creatures drinking it, they would turn into a troll. But for monsters… the not-so-gentle creatures, it is a powerful restorative and regenerative draught. Their bodies can overcome the troll transformation brought on by the sudden spontaneous generation, and it heals their grievous wounds." 

When he turned to look at Megara, who was picking at her multiple rows of teeth with her claw, it occurred to him just how different she really was. She wasn't like Corduroy, or any of the so-called 'gentle creatures'. And for that matter, River Raider rather sort of looked like a pony—she was stunningly pony-shaped—but she clearly was not a pony. For the first time in his life, Sundance was confronted with powerful evidence that there were creatures who were different. With differences that were more than just skin deep, or what shape their body happened to take. 

He'd heard the term 'gentle creatures' before to describe the civilised—or not so civilised—species that existed. Ponies. Diamond dogs. Zebras. Griffons. Minotaurs. Those who built cities and civilisations. Though many ponies felt that diamond dogs were not deserving of that title… ponies such as his mother. Yet, for all of her differences, Sundance chose to focus on the similarities that he and Megara shared. Some part of him had changed in some fundamental way, and he knew for certain that he was no longer the pony he once was. 

"If my sister gets mangled, or mauled, or hacked apart, just sprinkle a few drops of the tincture into whatever remains of her. It doesn't take much. And you'll never have to worry about running out because the tincture replenishes itself due to the regenerating nature of its essence." 

A loud gulp escaped Sundance. 

"My sister has the best and worst of both worlds," Pebble said as her sister continued to pick her teeth. "She's a manticore… which are amazing creatures on their own. But being part pony gives her magic. Far more than a manticore would normally have. This magic fuels her resilience, her strength, her agility, and enhances everything about her. Which makes her stronger than any mere manticore, and most other common monsters as well. That, plus her considerable intelligence, and extensive combat training from some of the deadliest warriors in Equestria, all of this combines to make her a formidable force." 

"Pebble believes we need more hybrids," Megara said around her paw-finger. 

"The nocturnal pegasus ponies were created for that very reason." One ear twitched and Pebble's muzzle contorted into a sneer of revulsion when her sister pulled out a wad of shredded meat from behind a molar. "They can do what we cannot. Nutmeg, must you do that at the table?" 

"Yes," the manticore spawn replied with a nonchalant shrug. "It's as good a place as any. If you had paw-fingers, you'd being doing this too—" 

"Would not," was Pebble's immediate response. 

"When we were little—" 

"Nutmeg, don't you dare." 

"—she would pick her nose with her tongue, as little earth ponies and pegasus ponies tend to do." 

"You jerk." Pebble's deadpan somehow conveyed a great deal of annoyance. 

"For me, nose picking was a far more dangerous hobby, as my claws are razor-sharp. There were a lot of nosebleeds. My mothers thought I had horrible allergies to something." 

Aghast, Sundance sat in stunned silence and tried not to think about geysers of blood. 

"Eventually, I got pretty good at it and learned to be careful. Nose picking was more like… surgery. A careful procedure of extraction where the slightest mishap had a cost of blood." 

Recovering just a little from being both startled and stunned, Sundance thought back to when he was little. He too had spent a lot of time mining for nose gold. It was just something that foals did. Now when he needed to clear his nose, he had other methods—though their levels of sophistication and maturity were questionable. Well-mannered ponies went into the restroom and went to work with a squeezable rubber bulb which had a probe that was inserted into the nose. There were no such hygienic devices to be found in the barony though, which necessitated other methods. 

"Are you leaving tonight?" asked Pebble. 

Sundance almost answered, but discovered the question wasn't for him. 

"I'd planned to, yes. Sundance still has the sight. You can see the shine in his eyes. I think flying home might be the first lesson in facing the strange and unknown." 

When he licked his lips, they were still vinegary. 

"Something about the unknown dread in the mountains bothers me," Pebble said to both her sister and to Sundance. "I'll ask around for insight and advice. There are druids here in Lulamoon Hollow. Equestria might still have a few thousand-year-old-evils just waiting to unseal themselves. Something that makes the animals act peculiar is a serious warning sign. 

"Those mountains are full of monsters. It is a fragile ecosystem that could easily be undone. There are manticores and owlbears and displacer beasts and all manner of highly magical megafauna. For them to come down out of the mountains… I find that worrisome." 

"So you think it is something from Equestria's storied past?" asked Megara of her sister. 

"Perhaps." The half-hearted shrug from Pebble did not display much enthusiasm. "It could very well be. Or it might be a vault that spilled open. There's a distinct possibility that one of Grogar's minions has set up shop and plots nefarious villainous deeds. It really doesn't matter what it is… what matters is making right what has been disturbed. Equestria needs those animals. We don't need them going extinct. You don't just throw away lives because they are inconvenient. Whatever balance we had, whatever equilibrium, it must be restored. Sundance, you need to make this a priority." 

"But what do I do?" he asked, uncertain of how to fix something that he could not comprehend. 

"Not sure." The earth pony inhaled, blinked, and then turned the full force of her deadpan expression upon Sundance. "Scout the area and look for signs of suspicious activity. No, I don't know what those signs might be. Trust in my sister's instincts. That's probably our best option right now. But like I said, I'll ask around." 

"Hold up a second," Megara said as she held out her paw to her sister. "Did you just tell me to scout an area that is almost one-hundred thousand square miles? Have you taken leave of your senses?" 

"If you only count the mountains themselves and not the whole of Sundance's territory, you can narrow your search to a far more reasonable seventy-thousand or so square miles." Fearlessly, Pebble stared down her sister, who bristled with discontent. 

"Seventy-thousand or so square miles," Megara said in a sing-song voice to mock her sister. "Seventy-thousand or so square miles. La-de-da! You make it sound like a weekend plan!" 

"Well, several weekends, really… but I wouldn't dawdle. This might be an actual crisis." 

Whiskers a-quiver, Megara leaned in over the table and attempted to stare down her fearless, defiant sibling. "You're telling me to find a needle in a haystack!" 

"A needle in a seventy-thousand square miles or so haystack. The sooner you get started, the better." 

Frustrated, Megara threw her front paws up into the air and waved them about, all while she roared out her annoyance. 

Meanwhile, Sundance tried to process what he'd just heard—and couldn't. His brain couldn't even begin to comprehend it. The numbers were far too large. He had no clue his barony was that large. That was large though… at least he thought it was. Maybe it wasn't. Perhaps his sense of scale wasn't developed enough to have an opinion on this. Megara roared a second time, and this time when she did it caused his bladder to contract. The sudden shrinkage filled him with an urgent need. 

"Excuse me… but where is the nearest little colt's room?" 



 

Everything shimmered silver and the stars overhead offered more than enough light for Sundance to see. There was beauty to be found in the night and he found himself almost enraptured by all that he saw. Though he was still finding his wings, so to speak, he took to the night skies with little effort. And what a beautiful world it was. There were sleepy little farms and homesteads nestled together beneath a blanket of royal purple sky and stars. Open meadows were dappled in rippling bands of moonlight as clouds flowed along rivers of current. 

Megara, though a powerful flier, was slow. Her top speed was a mere fraction of what Sundance was capable of, and he wasn't considered fast by pegasus standards. Of course, there was a lot more of Megara to carry through the air, and her wings were distinctly different than his own. Then there was the matter of aerodynamics, which she completely lacked. It would take hours for them to get home. 

Searching the mountains would be a long and arduous task, he realised. 

Though she lacked speed, she had power. She carried her gear, her equipment, some food, an assortment of weapons, and a huge packsack. There was also the twenty foot long pollaxe that she insisted that she bring along, a weapon that Sundance had trouble physically lifting because it was so ungainly and so heavy. He'd given it his best effort and when he'd toppled over to the floor, she spent several long minutes laughing at him. 

He deserved it. 

"How do you see at night?" he asked as he slipped into a glide beside Megara. 

"My eyes can see the infrared spectrum," she replied as she flapped her wings to remain airborne. "That's the cause of the fiery glow. It's magic. I don't understand how it works. But heat gets turned into vision. It's normal for manticores and allows us to hunt at night." 

"Right now, the world is all silver. For me. It's beautiful. Not a lot of colour. Just… silver." 

"For me, hot things like you are kinda red-orange—" 

"You think I'm hot?" 

"A hot lunch, maybe. Morsel." 

Rather than be scared, Sundance decided to go along with the joke and laugh. 

"I gotta say, there's more to you than I thought," Megara said to Sundance. "Most little ponies would be overwhelmed right now. Meeting me, having night vision, facing the darkness and overcoming their fear of the dark. Flying home during strange, unfamiliar conditions… I must confess, you've impressed me. Though only somewhat slightly." 

"I wasn't always this way," he replied. "There was a time in my life when I would have been overwhelmed. All of this would have been too much. But I've been exposed to some stuff. Seen some stuff.  Life, it seems, made plans to change my worldview. I made friends with a diamond dog." 

"Corduroy." 

"You know her?" 

"I do," Megara was slow to say. "When I'd go and stay with my grandparents, she and I would play together. Sometimes. Though, she didn't play much. Spent too much time with her nose in a book. Doc Hedge would forcibly toss her outside to play on occasion, and she'd spend the day in a snit." The manticore sighed and her wings slowed. "A few years back, some things were said. We haven't spoken since." 

"It's never too late to make things right," Sundance said. "Corduroy is the most forgiving, most gentle creature I know." 

"She is." Afflicted with a scratchy voice, Megara cleared her throat. "I was young and stupid. Like, seriously stupid. I mistook her pacifism for cowardice and I ran my mouth. I wish I hadn't. Ugh, I hate myself for what I did. I was young. Didn't know any better. I told her that she could do more to help the world if she wasn't such a coward… and I said other things. It just sort of spilled out of me. And she avoided me after that. Rightfully so." 

"Corduroy will forgive you if you ask—" 

"I know she will," Megara snapped. "And that makes everything worse. She's a stronger, better creature than I am. Corduroy has her values, her means, and her principles. Which I wish I had. I'm not looking forward to our inevitable meeting. Somehow I gotta fess up and make right. Corduroy will have her high ground and she'll forgive me because that's what she does, and I won't deserve it." 

Sundance, who didn't understand pacifism much at all, kept quiet. 

"Corduroy comes from a warrior culture. The diamond dogs have a long, proud martial history." A half-sigh half-growl slipped out. "I was pretty full of myself at the time. I thought that creatures that had the strength and the means to fight owed the world their strength. We had an obligation to defend the world and all that was good, or so I thought. It seemed pretty reasonable and straightforward at the time. But Corduroy didn't want to fight. She never raised her paws in anger. And being a big dummy, I thought she was a coward. Me? I'm the coward. After our falling out, I've made every effort to avoid her… but now I gotta face the music and I'm scared." 

"What was she like as a puppy?" he asked, because he had no clue what to say. 

"Smart," Megara replied. "An egghead. A bit of a know-it-all. She took injured wild creatures, wrassled them into submission, and patched them up. She wanted to be like Fluttershy. That's the thing, Sundance… she was a terror. Even as a puppy, she was strong. She was fearsome. She had the ways and means to forcibly subdue dangerous creatures for their own good so that she could help them… and I thought she owed the world more than she was giving. Because I was stupid." 

"I think that you're being too hard on yourself," he said matter-of-factly. 

"I have to be hard on myself. I'm the only creature big enough and strong enough and dangerous enough to kick my own ass and hold myself accountable." Again she sighed. "It's the one thing that I've done that I truly regret. I don't know how to fix it, so I've avoided it. And that… that reeks of cowardice. I'mma big fraidy-cat. A scared shittin' kitten. And it made things weird between me and my dad, because he loves Corduroy like she was one of his own. He never says a word though. He just gives me that look. It's the worst look in the world." 

"My mom has that look and she uses it for law enforcement." 

"I miss my playmate. I suppose I'll have no choice but to make things right…"
> Oh, sandwiches!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was not yet dawn, but Sundance somehow knew that the sun would rise within the hour. Ahead, the beacon burned bright to guide him home. He rather liked the new tower, but worried about how much wood it needed to keep the fire going at night. All that burned wood was not wood saved up for the winter. While he had yet to experience the winter, every story he'd heard so far reinforced the notion that the winter would be brutal. The first winter would be a test; surviving it would be a badge of honour, with every winter after an accolade. 

Megara was a slow flier. There was no nice way of saying it. She had endless endurance, so she wasn't huffing and puffing, but she had to pump her wings every inch of the way home to keep herself airborne. It seemed as though she was incapable of gliding, or having any sort of rest while in flight. Sundance actually felt bad for her, because flying seemed to be a taxing labour rather than an enjoyable activity. 

There were lights on in the barony; he could see them even from this distance. Windows were lit with a vivid orange glow, the distinctive illumination of oil lamps. With all the tar pools, he had all the flammable oil that he would ever need, enough to keep the lamps endlessly lit. But the lamps left soot on the windows if they were too close, and also on the ceiling, so burning oil was less than ideal. As he squinted ahead, eyeballing the considerable distance, he thought of electrification, which would bring all manner of new problems, such as getting lightbulbs. 

Lightbulbs like those that his father made in a factory downtown. 

"Wow, you have a proper castle going on," Megara remarked. 

"Well, sort of. Kind of. We've walled off the box canyon entrance and we did build that guard tower. The changelings built it while I was away as a demonstration of what they can do with their hivemind powers." 

"No… no… you have a castle and that's awesome. They've really fallen out of favour. Lulamoon Hollow doesn't have a castle. We just have towers and treehouses. And while they're pretty, they're also really impractical and I kind of hate them. They're really only practical for unicorns and other ponies and creatures just kind of sorta hafta make do. But you… you have a castle! Castle Daybreak! The most majestic castle east of Canterlot!" 

Just like that, the barony had a name. Sundance knew that it would stick. While he very much liked Rotten Egglünd, he knew in his heart that this name was unfit for his barony's primary settlement. Did baronies have capitals? He didn't know, and thought it too embarrassing to ask. Why, he'd look like an incompetent boob if he did. Castle Daybreak was quite good as far as names went, because he very much wanted the coveted title of Guardian of Dawn, and the names fit together thematically, or so he thought. 

"I rather like Castle Daybreak," he said, voicing his innermost thoughts aloud. "That's a keeper." 



 

There was a strange airship docked here, one that he did not recognise. It was an old design—at least Sundance thought it looked rather dated—but it didn't appear to be a hunk of junk. The ship was anchored out in the field, some distance away from the box canyon. No lights could be seen through the portholes, and it was difficult to make out much detail. He had visitors, it seemed, and at some point very soon he would have to greet them. 

With poise and grace, Sundance touched down atop the gatehouse. It was a good landing, one of his best, and the darkness did not thwart him. Meanwhile, Megara just sort of crashed into the ground down below, and did so with the clank of metal that could only be compared to a tinker pony's wagon being hurled over a cliff. Sundance lept off of the gate house, flapped once, and then landed upon the ground just inside of the gatehouse as Megara stomped through the entrance on two legs. In her front paws, she held the massive pollaxe, perhaps because she had no place to put it down. 

Having been awake for far too long, and feeling quite fatigued, Sundance yawned, but then was very much awake when he saw Corduroy. Something akin to panic bounced around his grey matter and he grew concerned about what might happen between Megara and his nurse. He wanted reconciliation, but it wasn't something that he could just order them to do—or could he? Did he have such power? No, he decided after a moment spent in reason, he did not. 

"You have one new mouth to feed," Corduroy said to Sundance, and it seemed as though she made a point to completely ignore Megara, who now leaned on her pollaxe. "Twilight Velvet sent a foal via parcel services. Sparrowhawk is awake… she's had a tough night and she keeps asking to see you. So you should see her when you get the chance. Also, the mayor of Fillydelphia arrived just before sundown. He wishes to speak with you… probably about what happened with the asylum in Beantown." 

Sundance, uncertain of what to say, did his best to make a mess of things. "Uh, well… uh—" 

"Still trying to save the world, Corduroy?" asked Megara. 

"Still trying to murderise as much of it as you can?" the now-decidedly-dour nurse replied. 

"Some bad things were said," Megara said to Corduroy. "I said some stuff I shouldn't've. I'd give anything to take them back so I can have you as a friend again. There's no excuse for what I did. I was young, and stupid, and didn't have any idea about what I was talking about, and there's not a day that goes by where I don't feel regret over what I did." Reaching up with her right paw, she scratched just behind her ear while avoiding all eye-contact with the somewhat cross diamond dog. "Can you forgive me?" 

"That depends." Folding her arms over her girth, Corduroy adopted a rather defiant stance. "What have you learned?" 

"Well, I've learned that you're probably braver than I am, because I made it a point to avoid you completely after what happened. I was scared of meeting you because I couldn't face what I did… and what I did was wrong. I've matured a bit. I think. Maybe? It's really hard to tell. Actually, I don't know if I've matured at all, but I have learned that I was an idiot. I want my playmate back. Even if you were grumpy about being made to play because you wanted to study. You helped me with my lessons. I would have failed math completely if you hadn't tutored me. What can I say to make this better? I'm really, really, really sorry." 

"That's all that needs to be said," was Corduroy's heartfelt response. 

"You know what?" Fearful, Sundance tread with much caution into unknown territory. "I'm going to leave you two to catch up. You deserve a private moment. Me? I'm going to go and keep Sparrowhawk company for a bit and see how she's doing. You two get things sorted out and when you do, you know where to find me." 

Then, before either of them could respond, he hurried off to the infirmary. 



 

A terrible smell permeated the infirmary, a scent that Sundance associated with sickness and hospitals. Sweat and hot bodies wracked by fever. The faint after-aroma of feces and urine that refused to be subdued with disinfectant. Just inside the door, he had to pause so that his eyes could adjust. A single lamp burned and it's flickering flame cast a wan glow upon the interiour. The bitter smell of herbs assailed Sundance's nose mere moments after entering and for all of about eight seconds or so, he was certain that he would sneeze. 

But the moment passed. 

While his eyes adjusted, his other senses told him much. The sound of chattering teeth was unpleasant, unmistakable. Sundance had endured that during unbearable moments in his own life. Sparrowhawk lay atop her wadded, bunched up covers and her small limbs writhed as she feebly thrashed about in her bed. With careful movement so that his hooves wouldn't make too much noise against the stone floor, he approached her bed, wincing with every sound made. 

She was wet; soaked, and her bedding was drenched. The stench of sickness grew overpowering as he drew closer, but he did not shy away. A part of him wondered how Corduroy had the strength to deal with this, because what he saw broke his heart. There was just too much pain for such a little body. When she moaned, he paused, frozen in place, but after a second of hesitation he found the courage to continue. 

"Hi," he whispered as he stood near her bedside. 

She rolled over, her legs flailing, and her unfocused eyes almost turned in his direction. 

"Need my medicine." Her voice was little more than a weak, pleading whine. "Do you have it?" 

"I'm sorry, I don't," he replied, his heart almost breaking. 

Corduroy suspected that Sparrowhawk was addicted to laudanum, but couldn't be certain. From what she'd told him, it was a common enough practice, and was used to control behaviour in a variety of situations, from unhappy housewives to unruly asylum patients. Laudanum caused intense constipation and a blocking of the bowels—until such a time that withdrawals happened and then violent, explosive diarrhea would set in. Sundance, a pony with a rather simple mind, could not begin to comprehend how this became a practice. 

"How are you feeling, Sparrow?" he asked as he sat down upon the floor beside her bed. "Do you need anything?" 

"My medicine," she whined as she rolled over to look up at him. 

"We don't have any," he said, and he was immediately stricken with guilt for lying, because he knew that Corduroy kept laudanum for emergencies. Every muscle in the back of his neck tensed as his ears pinned back and disappeared into his mane. Raising one foreleg—the uninjured one—he rested it upon the bed beside the stricken filly. 

This close, and he could hear her distressed innards gurgle. 

"Are you mad at me?" she asked. 

"What?" Confused, he hurried to sort out the situation. "Why would I be mad at you?" 

"You left," she said, almost panting. "I'm sorry I bit you. I was scared. Didn't mean it. Can I have my medicine now?" 

"That's not why I left," he said to her, and he wasn't sure how to explain his reasons given her current state. Watching her weak kicks and feeble twitches made him feel tired—or maybe it was the fact that he was awake all night with no sleep. His sense of fatigue was replaced with one moment of incredible, inarticulate rage, which seemed to pass in the span of one heartbeat. 

With slow, jerky effort, she wrapped her forelegs around his own. She was wet. Sweaty. Smelly. The sweat that oozed out of every pore was befouled by the sickness that afflicted her body. But Sundance did not pull away, nor did he cringe. When she pressed her face against his foreleg, he leaned in a little closer, and he felt her hot, moist breath saturating his pelt. She was on fire and he wondered just how bad the fever was. Surely, Corduroy had everything under control, yet he could not help but feel scared. 

Sparrowhawk was so small and so vulnerable. 

During their first meeting, she was an invulnerable terror. Much had changed. Once the fog cleared, and she was beyond these awful withdrawals, he wondered what sort of filly she might be. Would she still be fearless? Reckless? Violent? A part of him doubted it. Twilight Velvet's notes suggested that she would be an empty vessel, ready to be filled with love and kindness. He rather doubted that as well, but lacked the experience to express why. It wasn't that he didn't trust Twilight Velvet—even with all that happened he trusted her a great deal—it was more of the fact that a part of him refused to believe that it would be that simple. 

Twilight Velvet's notes might have been filled with a few fiblets to make him feel better. 

"Hold me," she said as she began to crawl towards him. 

Saying nothing, Sundance scooped her up so that he might offer her what little comfort that he could… 



 

"You got her to go to sleep," Corduroy said to Sundance as she picked up the limp pegasus foal. "Good. Good. This is good. She had a rough night. Now I can change her bedding." 

Leaning over, Corduroy opened up the wooden lid on Sundance's old sleeping crate, and with a swift motion, she tucked Sparrowhawk inside in very much the same way that she might place a tray into a hot oven. Somewhat distressed, Sundance looked to Corduroy for reassurance, and when she turned around, she brushed some dirt and chocolate brown hair off of her mostly-clean smock. 

"She sleeps better in there," the nurse said to the worried pegasus in need of a kind word. "This way I can open up the drapes and windows and air this place out. And whew, this place needs airing out. By the way, a bit of a crowd has gathered outside. You might want to go and check that out. The peasantry has discovered that there is a manticore at large in the barony." 

"Oh, sandwiches!" 

"Sandwiches?" The best possible quizzical dog expression took over Corduroy's face. "Sandwiches?" Her paw-fingers flexed once, twice, and then a third time. 

"I'm very tired," he said, offering the merest possible explanation. "I should go before the crowd turns ugly!" 

Before Corduroy could respond, Sundance was already out the door. 



 

In the welcome light that ended the night, everything seemed alright. Sundance, still quite alarmed, expected something wholly different than the current situation. Everything was calm as the dawn banished the lingering remains of the night. The early risers had gathered in a cluster around Megara and were lost in quiet examination. As for the manticore spawn herself, she sat very still. Why, she was almost a statue. Not even her whiskers quivered. 

For all of the calm, there was still a lot of intensity. Intense intensity, Sundance thought to himself as he hurried into the thick of the crowd. Now wasn't the time to be submissive, or allow stuff to just happen. No. Now was a time to be a baron. To step up. It was time to do the right thing, whatever that was. He wasn't sure. Something had to be done, even though everything was fine. Yes, something had to be done because everything was fine. The fine state of things had to be cemented into place. But how? This acceptance had to be reinforced. 

Now he understood why his mother lept up to praise him when he did right. 

It all made sense! 

After clearing his throat, he said to the gathered crowd, "I'm proud of you all. This is remarkable." 

As was so often the case, Earwig spoke for the others. "Well, yer Lordship, we wasn't about to pass up a chance to see a manticore up close. She seems friendly enough." 

"Yeah," somepony said. "Friendly." 

Now standing beside Megara, Sundance nodded. "She's friendly. Megara is here to help me learn how to fight and defend the barony. I want all of you to treat her with all of the warmth and kindness that you give to me." 

"We gave you a hard time," somepony said. 

"But I earned your acceptance." Sundance had himself a look around and then squirmed a bit because of the intense intensity still found within the crowd. "And really, I couldn't be more proud of you all than I am right now." 

"You have our trust," Earwig said to Sundance. "You brought home Corduroy, and that worked out for us all. Then there was Gothcruz… he's a bit funny looking and more than a little weird, but he's a hard worker and he likes our stories." 

"You're the best, Earwig," The zurro said from the rear of the crowd. 

"Some of us were a bit worried when you brought home a griffon, but dear little Gisela is beloved by all. And she's a terror to the rabbits… the awful, awful rabbits, horrible little toothy blighters that they are. Gerard was a bit bigger… and a bit more scary, but then we got to know him and he's more scared of us than we are of him. He jumps at his own shadow—" 

"I do not!" 

"You do!" Earwig retorted. 

"Do not!" 

"Oh, but you do!" Then, before the young griffon could argue, Earwig continued, "Mighty is just as strong as any of us and she works hard. And she has hands! Hard work without magic, the way hard work was meant to be done. We likes that, so we does. As for the changelings, we were a bit worried about them, but they'd been great fun and a lot of help. Now, you've brought home a manticore, and most of us are wondering what she'll do to help us or make our lives better. It's not that we trust her… not yet. No offense, lady manticore—" 

"None taken," Megara said with a polite nod. 

"—but we trust you, Sundance. You wouldn't bring home a manticore unless you were absolutely certain that we'd be safe. You've already shown us that you put our safety above your own." 

Before Sundance could respond, Megara grabbed him by the neck, yanked him close, and said into his ear, "Don't ever mess this up. You have a rare and valuable treasure here. Never mess this up!" 

"Glurk!" Sundance glurked, because anything beyond a simple glurk was nigh-impossible with Megara's paw-fingers encircled around his slender neck. 

"Don't ever mess up this trust," she said to him whilst she also gave him a gentle, affectionate shake that threatened to dislocate most of his joints from one another. "Not even Pebble has this kind of trust. And I've never had this kind of acceptance… ever. Not even with my service. If you ever betray their trust… I will turn you inside out!" 

When she let go, Sundance slurped in a much-needed breath and then waited for the stars to retreat from his vision. Manticores! Goodness! He inhaled again, and then for a third time, while at the same time he decided that he didn't want to be turned inside out. Trust and loyalty were valuable commodities, it seemed. Far more precious than gold and wealth. Reaching up, he rubbed his neck, and wondered what Megara would be like if she weren't so playful and affectionate. 

"He could use a bit of toughening up," Earwig said as she looked on with worried concern seen in her eyes. "But he's tougher than you know. Probably tougher than you give him credit for. He's not earth pony tough"—she paused, her eyes narrow and her ears pricked in defiance—"but he's not a quitter, and we all respect that. And you… you'd better respect that too, if you know what's good for you, manticore. He don't give in, even if it hurts him. You'd best keep that in mind." 

"You have their trust and their respect." This time, when Megara laid her paw on Sundance, her touch truly was gentle and she steadied him on his hooves. "I am going to make you worthy of that trust and respect… even if it kills you. I will be your crucible, Sundance. I will burn away your dross and I will pound out your weaknesses. I will be the hammer and the anvil… and you… you will be a shapeless, formless blob of metal ready to be given new purpose and form. No sense lying to you… I'm gonna hurt you real bad. For all the right reasons." 

"Can I have some breakfast and a bit of shuteye first?" he asked. 

"I was wanting some of that as well," she replied. "But I have no idea where I'm going to sleep. I don't think I'll fit through those tiny doors." 
> Charmed, I'm sure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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. 
> Tossed salad
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting lost in the moment was easy. The cosy dining booth in the galley was very much like one found in a diner, something that Sundance missed a great deal without realising it until just now. Conditioned air drifted up from a vent in the floor beneath the polished wooden table and almost left goosebumps on his legs. It was almost too-perfect of a moment and he found himself letting go of some of his inhibitions. Argyle was charming, kind, and absolutely in love with his daughter Liberty. Watching them interact satisfied something deep within Sundance, though being out of touch with himself, he didn't know what it was. 

These ponies smelt of home; of store-bought off-the-shelf shampoo, along with the faint aroma of laundry detergent and fabric softener. No doubt, it rubbed off on them from the bed. The galley kitchen, though cramped and tiny, had electric lights, modern appliances, and had the intimacy that the communal dining hall lacked. Sundance missed these things; he ached for them like a colt that longed for his unrequited schoolyard crush. 

The knife made a rhythmic thump against the wooden cutting board, a sound that was strangely calming and reassuring. It was the sort of sound that one did not realise that they missed until it was no longer present in their lives. When Cherry Turnover stirred, the enormous wooden spoon clanged against the oversized stainless steel mixing bowl. These were the sounds of domestic bliss, the sounds of family togetherness—sounds sorely missing from Sundance's life. 

Not that his family spent much time together. His mother, father, and grandmother all worked. He did as well, in his old life. But every now and then, when the moon and stars aligned, when fortunate circumstances smiled upon them, and they all had the same day off, they would get together for a meal. Sometimes, they went to a diner and all piled into a booth. Other times though, rare, treasured times, they stayed at home, fixed a meal together, and gathered around his grandmother's chipped and battered formica dining table. 

Those were the best times. 

Times now forever gone. 

Out of reach. 

His grandmother Noonfire would never return from the journey upon which she had departed. 

In his barely-acknowledged grief, Sundance longed for intimate togetherness. 

"Cherry, dear, you are a darling for all the salad tossing that you do for us," Argyle said to the busy mare. "An absolute dear, I do declare." 

Covering her mouth with her hoof, Fudge Turnover snickered. Sundance wasn't sure what was funny, or why, but he had the sense that a joke was made. Perhaps an in-joke. A thing that couples did. Only this was a trio—something which intimidated Sundance a great deal. The very thought of such an arrangement for himself filled him with anxious worry because of all the unknowns and variables that would surely present themselves. He just wasn't confident enough to expose himself to so much so completely. 

"Fudgy, what makes you titter so?" asked Argyle with an arched brow. 

"You know what you did, you cad." 

"Beloved, I say… you wound me. Am I not the perfect gentlepony? To be called a cad by the mother of my most beloved daughter. Oh, woe is me."

"She's your only daughter," Fudge Turnover retorted. 

Argyle gestured with his hoof in his daughter's direction. "For now… though I dare say she needs some good-natured competition in her life. My vanity demands that I have a household of fine females, all of whom vie for both my attention and affection." 

"If only your constituents could see their patrician at home—" 

"Cherry, don't be vulgar. That word is uncouth." Scowling, Argyle shook his head. "Besides, I do believe that if they were to see me at home, they would be quite busy ensuring that I would stay warm for the rest of my life… by setting me and all I have on fire. Patrician indeed… what rot." 

Then, without warning, Argyle turned to Sundance and said, "This is all Twilight's fault, you know. She has me right where she wants me. A terrible place to be, if I may say so. Without a doubt, one day she will do this to you as well. While you might be better for it, you will find the entirety of your life tossed asunder… very much like the delectable salads my wife Cherry makes. Twilight Sparkle approaches politics with all of the refined grace and civility of a caffeine-addled minotaur in a teacup shop. The nerve of that mare, I say." 

"Minotaur," Fudge Turnover said, almost beneath her breath. "Calfeine-addled—" 

"Fudgy, do be a dear and occupy your mouth with something before you befoul us all with your paronomasiac tendencies." As Argyle spoke, his earth pony wife was overcome with a bad case of the titters. "Such indiscretion. What must Sundance think of us?" 

Once more, he turned to Sundance and this time he said, "You give a mare free rein and she recompenses your liberal magnanimousness with puns. What's a stallion to do in these trying modern times?" 

"I like puns," Sundance replied. "And I wish I could think of more of them." 

With a soft motion, Argyle tapped his hoof upon the edge of the table, shook his head, and offered up a theatrical moue. "Oh, you are a peach. I dare say, we'll just have the best of times together, you and I." 

"So what did Twilight do, exactly?" asked Sundance, who steered the conversation back to a subject that he wished to know more about. 

Argyle's response was a dandy deadpan, and delivered with dry reserve: "She bent over the city of Fillydelphia's sense of democracy and gave it a good dry buggering. No butter. No spit. Not even supper and wine before the deed—" 

"Argyle!" Cherry Turnover whirled about and she turned a scathing scowl upon her husband. "Not in front of Libby!" 

Baffled, Sundance asked, "She did what?" 

"For quite some time now, the city of Fillydelphia has been attempting to remove me from office. I became mayor by accident. By default. It was a fluke of the system. But Twilight, she is quite insistent that I remain in office. She told the city in no uncertain terms that if they remove me from my office as mayor that she would be forced to appoint me as the Regional Governor. A position that would put me in charge of the new mayor and give me absolute authority over the entirety of the region. Twilight is largely responsible for the riots." 

"Oh." Sundance tried to find something more meaningful to say, but failed miserably. "Oh. I see." 

"Oh, indeed." 

"How does one become mayor by accident?" Driven by curiosity, Sundance demanded to know more. 

"I never wanted to become mayor in the first place," Argyle replied. "My wives put me up to it. This is a complicated situation, I suppose, and I must find a fine place to begin if I am to explain all that has happened." 

"Before you do that," Sundance said as politely as possible, "I must know how one becomes mayor by accident. I have to know." 

"I entered into one of the most crowded mayoral races in the city's history," was Argyle's response. "Every major political party was represented. I never had plans to win… my wives wanted me to win, but I just wanted to expose myself for the sake of my career. To make a long story short… every other candidate had some dreadful scandal exposed, or some awful act, or some illegal activity. One by one, they dropped out of the race. Some were arrested. Many were arrested. 

"It seemed like every day some new scandal surfaced. A great many lives were ruined. And then, one day, I am informed that I am the city's new mayor because I am the last pony standing. Everypony else was gone. I didn't win—a sore point among many and a talking point about why I should not be in office. Though there is an alternative talking point in that I am squeaky clean, without even the merest whiff of misconduct." 

"Call me crazy, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Twilight Sparkle or Twilight Velvet was responsible for the political assassinations—" 

"Fudgy, dear… please." 

"—some of the stuff that was dug up just seems impossible to know. I've heard rumours that Twilight Velvet has a detective that can find anything that he puts his mind to. Nothing can be hidden from him. No wrongdoing can be buried." 

Rolling his eyes, Argyle snorted and said, "Fear-mongering and gossip." 

"Says you," Fudge Turnover said to her husband with a contemptuous and stormy glare. 

Though he had a lot to say, a lot that could be said, Sundance chose silence. 

"We live in times of intense scrutiny," Argyle said with a dismissive wave of his hoof. "More is known. We have better journalists and better systems in place to root out corruption. We mustn't attribute to skullduggery what surely are signs that the system is working. I've spoken with Twilight Velvet extensively and she does not strike me as a mare motivated by malice. I do believe the rumours and gossip are just slanderous accusations to besmirch her fine character." 

To remain silent, Sundance was forced to bite his tongue, and he did so almost to the point of drawing blood. 

"Ponies say such awful things about me… untrue things. Horrible things." A soft sigh slipped out of Argyle, and his nostrils flared. "Such unkindness has left me sensitive and thoughtful about what is said about others. Vile things can be said with little to no consequences. Hateful, hurtful things. It is upsetting. Ponies believe the worst about me. I was once like them, I suppose. I too, hated the royalty and voiced all the popular shared sentiments against them. 

"I was once a colt that was deeply in love with beautiful democracy. It was the most precious thing in my life. I took my civic duties so seriously. Perhaps more so than anything else in my life. I voted. I spoke out against the royals. I wanted Equestria freed from crowned tyranny."

"What happened?" asked Sundance. 

"I became a politician," Argyle replied. "It was dreadful. Just awful, really. I became a politician and the first lesson that I learned was of democracy's great failing. We earth ponies… we have a special relationship with democracy. I don't expect you to understand. But it is deeply entwined with our way of life. And for me to find that it was so dreadfully rotten… I must confess, it unsettled me. Wounded me. I have not yet recovered." 

Shaking his head from side to side, Sundance said, "You're right. I don't understand." 

"Truth be told, I don't either." Again, Argyle sighed, and this prolonged exhale allowed all of his good cheer to escape. "All of the worst sorts of ponies win. It's a popularity contest. It's very much like parenting, I've discovered. I win my daughter's affections by giving her sweets and everything she loves. Because of this, I'm the good parent. The popular parent. She loves me. But her mother… her mother tries to do what is best for her. Feeds her wholesome foods during her most tender stage of development when she is trying new things. So it is with voting." 

"I still don't understand." 

"Sundance…" Argyle's words trailed off and the earth pony shook his head. 

"Twilight Sparkle is a good mom," Cherry Turnover said from the galley where she continued to labour. "She is going to make us eat our greens, if we want to or not. She's being the good parent, even if it makes her the unpopular parent." 

"And that's the issue," Fudge Turnover said, smoothly taking over from where her sister left off. "For politicians to get elected, they must make terrible promises. Promises that ultimately go against the interests of the ponies that they serve. They make promises to be popular, and not to make progress. They act to appease the will of the ponies, but in doing so, ultimately work against everypony's better interests. Which has led us to this… Fillydelphia's big temper tantrum." 

"Oh… I think I understand." 

"The city is bankrupt," Argyle said, his misery now on full display. "Worse than that… the city is in debt. Years of allowing corporations and private interests to have so much control… where do I begin? The city is literally decaying. We tax the poor… those who have the very least… while the wealthy pay almost nothing in taxes. And don't get me started on corporate taxes. And those landlords… they formed their own political party and have so many ponies just enthralled with deceptions and lies, the worst of which is that if they had to pay property taxes then rent would have to go up to compensate… so the very idea of tax reform for housing providers causes ponies to take to the streets for fear of the rent going up. It is the nightmare scenario of all of the wrong ponies getting exactly what they wanted for too long because they won the popularity contest and got the votes. 

"Worst of all, Twilight has me right where she wants me." 

"You could tell her no," Sundance suggested. "Just step down. Walk away." 

"And ignore my civic duty?" Eyes almost blazing, Argyle's breath quickened and the insides of his ears pinkened. There was nothing left of the cheerful, jubilant dandy that Sundance had met not long ago. His eyes were full of terror, uncertainty, and smouldering anger. "I envy you, Sundance. You have this fine barony here. It's practically a blank slate ready for whatever good words you have at the ready. Me? I have to clean up the mess made by earth pony culture and tradition. Because somepony has to do it. Somepony has to be the responsible parent. I have to stare down the monster that rose up from the foundations of our culture. If I don't… who will? Who will?" 
> Power lunch
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sundance found not one, but four different salads upon his plate, each of them commingling in their juices. Some of them were wet salads, with the exception of the potato salad, which wasn't really wet, but nor was it dry. He'd never really thought about the state of potato salad, and the descriptive nature of its salad-state. It was cold and it—well, it was potato salad. Was it moist? He couldn't tell and even worse, he was embarrassed to be distracted by such a thing right now, at this very moment. 

As for the other salads, one was familiar, but the other two were entirely new to him. Macaroni salad was like potato salad, in a similar solid state, but with noodles instead of potatoes. This macaroni salad seemed a bit fancier than he was used to, and it certainly had a southern Equestrian twang to it, because it had pimentos and green olives. The bright colours made it festive and appealing to the eye. 

The two mystery salads were enticing, bright, and appealing. Sundance studied the first of the two; he found shredded carrots, raisins, dark red cherries, and confettied coconut. The juice from the cherries stained everything a vivid shade of crimson—so much so that it was almost bloody. Sundance was eager to try it, but the other mystery salad beckoned to him with a curious siren song signaling satisfaction. 

As for the fourth and final salad, Sundance saw minced cucumbers, hunks of pineapple, and succulent chunks of watermelon. There were little green leafy bits that smelled like mint and made him want to sneeze. Never in his life had he encountered such salad decadence and Sundance savoured the moment while he took it all in. Such colours. The smell. All the different shapes. It was just as much a feast for the senses as it was the body. 

With the sensation of eyes hot upon him, Sundance looked up, glanced around, and discovered that Liberty Belle had affixed her curious gaze upon him. She was a quiet little filly, and hadn't said or fussed much at all—just so long as her father kept some of his attention focused upon her. Cherry Turnover put down a pink plastic bowl on the high chair tray, sat down at the table, and made herself comfortable. 

"Nuh," Liberty Belle said to Cherry Turnover. 

"Oh, here we go," Argyle said with much dismay. "Solid foods are the bane of her very existence. She likes soft foods… and puddings. She loves puddings of all kinds. But you put some solid food in front of her and it is very much like a duelist demanding satisfaction. You know there's going to be trouble." 

Liberty Belle inhaled suddenly, drawing in a vast amount of breath, and her eyes opened wide. 

"No," Argyle said to her before the siren wail could escape. "You wouldn't dare. Should you dare, we shall have words, you and I." 

In response, she shuddered, cast a stormy glare at her father, and then deflated with a gasp. 

"That's right. There'll be no shrieking today, Mademoiselle Belle. There's been quite enough of that as of late." Some of Argyle's good cheer returned; his tone and mannerisms recovered some of their lost theatricality. 

"I'd still like to know how you do that," Fudge Turnover said to her husband. 

"Charming the ladies is what I do," Argyle replied with a half-shrug, which made Cherry Turnover begin to titter. "In that endeavour, I have been most successful, I feel." 

There was no tableware. No spoons, nor forks. Just plates and glasses. For all the refinement, there was still a sense of relaxed casual sensibility. Sundance allowed himself to be at ease and studied his plate in anticipation of the first bite. When he heard a soft yelp, he looked up just in time to see one of Liberty's ears tugged on by Cherry Turnover. It was a gentle tug, more of a surprise than anything, and when the filly opened up her mouth to protest, Cherry Turnover levitated in a glistening, dripping chunk of cherry, a droplet of which stained Liberty's chin scarlet. 

This sudden betrayal was almost too much to bear and for a few seconds it appeared as though Liberty Belle might just have herself a meltdown. She was clearly offended; one of her mothers had tricked her with a tug of her ear. But then, very much to Sundance's surprise, she chewed and her expression became one of intense thoughtfulness. When it became clear that she liked what she had sampled, there was a collective sigh of relief from around the table, Sundance included. 

"Mmm," Liberty Belle said to her mother, Cherry. "More?" 

Just like that, the conflict was over; good parenting had won the day. 

"Behold the sweet and endearing application of feminine treachery," Argyle muttered. "May it save us all." 



 

"Well, you told me about yourself, so I suppose it is only fair to regale you with my life story," Argyle said whilst he leaned up against Fudge Turnover. 

Empty plates were pushed into the middle of the table. A cooling cup of tea steamed in front of Sundance. Near the right edge of the table, a rime-encrusted pitcher of iced tea awaited to satisfy thirsty desire. Even if he wanted to, Sundance could not possibly eat another bite. Liberty's head was bobbing somewhat and she fought a valiant, courageous battle to keep her eyes open. 

"To truly understand me, you must understand how I came to be," Argyle said. "It is the foundation of my character. My great-grandsire moved out of the Hayseed Swamps and relocated himself in the great city of Baltimare. A place that I am confident that you are familiar with." 

Argyle's grin was downright disarming. 

"He took a job with the Peridot Packaging Company, a shipping import company that deals in tea, coffee, spices, and exotics. He was proud—" 

"Exotics?" asked Sundance apologetically. 

"Oh… yes… exotics. Fabrics. Fibres. Fine cottons, linens, silks, furs… luxury items. Jewelry. Occasionally enchanted items. Mostly stuff made by minotaurs. Things like self-repairing clothing. The stitching is the secret, I'm told." Argyle inhaled. "My great-grandsire was a learned pony, a real rarity from his place of origin." 

Sundance was utterly and completely charmed by how Argyle pronounced learned as learn-ed. 

"He was put in charge of crate accounting. At the end of the shift, he had to match each crate's number to that of the invoice. He had to make certain that no crates were missing, stolen, or otherwise misplaced. It was a complicated and thankless job, because crates regularly went missing. The workers weren't paid as well as one might expect, so it was common-practice to help oneself to the occasional crate of goods. 

"To put an end to these nefarious practices, my great-grandsire hired himself a goon out of his own pay. I will concede that what he did was a brutal practice, but with time, no more crates went missing. Profits rose sharply. When the money rolled in, my great-grandsire negotiated better pay for the dock and warehouse workers. Even though he wasn't exactly liked, he was respected. I suppose the increase in wages soothed the many hurts left behind by the savage beatings. That was my great-grandsire's legacy. 

"Now, my grandsire, his son, he became the dock manager and over time he rose in the ranks to also manage the warehouse. He brought order to the business and it became a well-oiled machine. Shippers whose goods arrived late were docked a portion of their pay and those who delivered on time got considerable bonuses, which increased with every shipment that was either early or on time. These bonuses became quite sizable. My grandsire knew how to motivate others using either the carrot or the lash. He wasn't picky, but he prefered the carrot. The lash fatigues both involved, the lasher and the lashee. 

"My mother, bless her sunny soul, bought the Peridot Packaging Company when she turned twenty-five. Within five years, she had branches in Fillydelphia and Manehattan. We handled imports along the entire eastern coast. My mother, she had me late in life, and by sheer coincidence I was born on my mother's thirty-fifth birthday. 

"I had every advantage made available to me. The best schools, the best tutors. I was prepared. One day, when I was young, I had this story told to me for the first time. At the end of it all, my mother and father said to me that I was expected to go on and do even greater things. Exceptional things. It was expected of me. Being young, I didn't truly understand what was said. I just assumed that I'd go on to do great things. I was young, privileged, affluent, well-educated, and by the time I was a young adult, I knew everything that could possibly be known. 

"Being a young pony that knew everything, I went to college so I might revel in my smug superiourity. I could have gone to a far nicer school, but I was rebellious and went to community college for city planning. You can't see it right now, because I am sitting on it, but my mark consists of three skyscraper silhouettes… a sort of skyline, I suppose. My first love was city planning, which I went to school for. 

"For me, college was a time of experimentation. I got to see how the other half lived. It was an eye opener. For the first time in my life, I was exposed to poor ponies. The working class. It shook up my sense of self-worth, let me tell you. I had everything, while these ponies had nothing. I began to understand how well-off I was. I knew that I would probably get whatever dream I went chasing after… but I knew that many of my classmates would live to see their dreams crushed. 

"That is, perhaps, the most valuable thing that money can purchase. Protection from failure." Gaze distant, eyes unfocused, ears half-limp, Argyle's expression became one of profound sadness. "Even if the worst happened and I couldn't somehow fumble my way through college, I could always just go home and work for my parents. The shame of their disappointment would be easier to bear than the cruel ache of failure and poverty. Knowing this changed me as a pony." 

Sundance, who had never gone to college, wondered what he'd missed out on. 

"As I have previously stated, college was a time of experimentation for me." Argyle's eyes darted to each of his wives. "I became somewhat involved with a radical earth pony group. Flirting, I suppose you might say. Dangerous flirting. It was a pro-democratic group that openly spoke out against the royals. When I found out they were involved in violent demonstrations, I distanced myself from them forthwith, as I did not wish to besmirch whatever future reputation that I might have. 

"I found a different group of earth ponies," Argyle continued. "Better ones. Ones who abhorred violence and conflict. They recognised that there were problems within the system but they did not stoop so low as to make everything worse. They recognised that Twilight Sparkle was aware of the problem and praised her efforts for attempting to preserve elements of earth pony culture that was in grave danger of extinction. 

"It was at this time that I met two sisters, only one of which was an earth pony. They were both born-bakers. But baking isn't what it once was. These sisters, they were smart. Witty. Beautiful. They kept their baking as a hobby but defied the call of their marks to do something else. This, in and of itself, is remarkable, as most ponies lack the willpower to follow through with such an act." 

With this said, Argyle paused, licked his lips, and then just sat there for a short time, his eyes all aglow with warm emotion. He was practically a different pony; sentimental rather than theatrical. With a slow turn of his head, he looked at his daughter and spent a moment watching her as her head bobbed. Whatever equona that Argyle Ascot had to offer the world was now stripped away and his naked soul was on display. 

"These sisters taught me something I desperately needed to know. Good ponies come from all trots of life. I didn't even realise I was in conflict with myself… but I was. I'd blinded myself to all the troubles to be found within. For a time, I struggled with my upbringing. I couldn't change who I was, or how I was born. What I could do was give the world the best possible version of myself. But before I did that, I offered myself to those two sisters, and by fortunate happenstance, after a bit of wooing, they accepted. They came as a pair, see… and refused to be parted. 

"These are the events that took place and made me the pony that I am right now…" 



 

The teacup, now empty, was replaced by a glass of sugary iced tea. Time was strange now, elastic and relative. Sundance was thoughtful, composed, and more than anything else, hopeful. Liberty Belle's highchair now stood empty, with the little filly put down for a nap. It was hard for Sundance to describe just how perfectly at ease he was, or his current state of contentedness. 

"The series of events involving the asylum disturb me greatly," Argyle said, sighing out the words. "Though perhaps hasty, a quick study seems to reveal that the whole of the system that allowed that to happen was thoroughly populated by officials voted into office. They prospered while others suffered. Everything was set up in such a way as to allow coins to be skimmed and collected… some sort of milk metaphor seems apropos here, but I'll be damned if I can think of one." 

To show that he listened, Sundance nodded. 

"That our system is so broken is proof of Princess Celestia's benevolence." 

"Fudgy, do be a dear and explain yourself," Argyle said to his wife. 

"We have all these radical and not-so-radical earth pony groups," Fudge Turnover said. "Some of them are dangerous. Some are quite dangerous. Yet, none of them are disallowed. Even as dangerous as they are, they are allowed to gather amongst ourselves. Democracy is a central tenet of belief from our shared clan heritage. We've been allowed to keep that even though all evidence suggests that it is to our detriment." She inhaled, waited for but a moment, and looked her husband in the eye. "If Princess Celestia was really the tyrant so many believe her to be, don't you think she would have cleaned up this awful mess a long time ago?" 

"Behold, Sundance… Fudgy here went to college and studied civil sciences." Gesturing at his wife, Argyle shook his head in mock-dismay. "This is what higher education does to the female mind. Dreadful condition, isn't it? Look upon her and be afraid." 

"She's not wrong though." Cherry Turnover's interjection came with a side of smirk. 

"And Cherry… student of political science. It's made her so opinionated on so many subjects. When ponies ask what she knows about the subject or situation, she'll explain it to them at length. Typically with a lot of big words. Though, for the slow-minded, she'll break it down into the most simple of terms." 

"What you are trying to say," Cherry retorted, "is that I can be patronising, you great big windbag." 

"Dreadful. Just dreadful. You wound me so. My mother tried to warn me about uncouth mares, but did I listen?" 

"You had it coming," Cherry replied. "You wounded my sister." 

"Yes… yes… that whole messy business with Liberty Belle. I am at fault." 

Unable to stop himself, Sundance snickered. 

"At last… somepony laughs at my misfortune. My humiliation nears completion." With a dismissive wave of his hoof, Argyle made a theatrical effort to shoo Sundance away. "Have mercy, I do declare. My vanity is reeling and is in need of time to recover." 

"You have to look at the situation as a whole," Fudge said while her husband fumed. "Right now, the city of Fillydelphia is in a state of anarchy. This wasn't Princess Celestia's doing. We did this. Our decisions, our actions, and yes, our voting brought us here. Now, everything is in a state of emergency. We're still trying to vote. We're still throwing ballots at our problems… and getting nothing accomplished with our heated debates. As much as it pains me to say this, we need to suspend our electoral processes and find some way to restore order." 

"Oh, Fudgy… goodness." This time, Argyle aimed his dismissive wave at his wife. 

"I'm an earth pony," she said to him defiantly. "Same as you. But I recognise the obvious problem. Voting worked better when we were small clans scattered about the map. Each pony had a say and the clan made the decision as a whole. Our way was right, just, good, and true. Gathering in cities was our ruination. Once our numbers grew into hundreds, or even thousands, not everypony could have their say. The process grew too cumbersome. It took too long to get anything done. 

"So we adapted by electing officials to represent us. And that's where we went wrong. The system grew too large, and we surrendered ourselves to the tyranny of the majority. Not to the tyranny of Princess Celestia as some might believe. Fillydelphia is now a city of millions and we have scant few representatives to carry out the will of our citizenry. The voices of but a few drown out the voices of millions. We consistently vote the worst sorts of ponies into office and we allow corporate interests to influence our votes. I can see no solution to this problem but to suspend our electoral processes until the mess is sorted out." 

"Which is exactly what Princess Twilight will do if Argyle is voted out of office," Cherry Turnover said when her sister was finished. 

With a quick, sudden turn of her head, Fudge Turnover focused her attention upon Sundance and said, "We convinced our husband to run for office. He has charisma and charm that voters love. My sister and I, we lack such things, but we have the brains. So we made our husband act as our face. Change is desperately needed. More so now than ever. You know this, Sundance. You grew up in the thick of it, just as we did. Without Argyle's money and affluence. Our view from down at the bottom is an asset." 

"I suppose it is," Sundance replied. 

"We're aware of the plan," Cherry said to Sundance, "because my sister and I spent a great many hours advising Twilight on what to do. But we had no idea that she would take us seriously. We thought she was doing the gracious princess bit where she listens and acts sympathetically to our plight. Sometimes, things go horribly wrong… but this time, things went horribly right. Now, Fillydelphia is burning. Our home was burnt to the ground. The city is under martial law. And—" 

"Even worse, all the skeletons have come waltzing out of the closet," Cherry said, interrupting her sister. "That business with the asylum in Beantown was barely the tip of the iceberg. I suspect that everything that comes out because of that will be far worse than anything we could imagine. I mean, they greatly expanded the underground warrens in all directions beneath the asylum. Constructed an immense underground complex. How? How did this go unnoticed? Ponies were in on it." 

Distracted, Argyle scowled and muttered in a soft whisper, "I cannot help but wonder if my own family is responsible for some of this damnable trouble that plagues the city. My mother told me no when I confronted her, but still… I wonder. So far, the stench of scandal hasn't yet reached me, but I do wonder if any in my family will be found out. If so… I will be crushed." 

"That's a hard pill to swallow, Argy," Fudge Turnover said to her husband. 

"I want to see her," Argyle said suddenly. "Sundance, you must let me see her." 

"Sparrowhawk?" asked Sundance, somewhat confused. 

"Yes. I must meet the filly that I have failed." 

"Argyle… I don't think you failed her—" 

"Sundance, please, with all due respect… allow me to explain why you are wrong. A lesson in effective leadership is needed." Clearing his throat, Argyle sat up a little straighter and composed himself. "No matter what happens while you are in charge, no matter how distant you might be from it, no matter what rational excuses you might make or how you might explain yourself, you are responsible for everything that happens. I am responsible for everything that happened in that dreadful, alicorn-forsaken asylum. Because, somepony has to be. 

"I could make excuses. After all, I had nothing to do with it. I was ignorant of what took place. I could blame my political opponents or my predecessors. All that does is compound the immediate problem and make everything worse. So always take responsibility. Always. Always. You're the baron. I'm the mayor—and soon to be Regional Governor when the worst happens, and it will. Of this, I have no doubts. Those fools will vote me out of office to spite me and to spite Twilight, and everything will be made worse."

Unsure of how to respond, Sundance nodded. 

"I would like to see her," Argyle said, insisting on the matter at hoof. 

"Sure… if Corduroy allows it. And if Sparrow is feeling up to it. She's… well, I don't even know how to describe what is going on. The withdrawals are awful." 

Across the table, Fudge Turnover gnawed upon her hoof. 

"We have so much to do together, you and I," Argyle said to Sundance. "Twilight wants us to be friends, but beyond that, we are neighbors. Your territory stretches quite a ways eastward. In between here and Fillydelphia is a vast and hostile wilderness. Which is something we'll need to sort out if ponies are to move freely between our territories. What I want is a straight line of shared cooperation that reaches from Fillydelphia to Canterlot." He paused, thoughtful. "There is so much to sort out. But before we begin… I would like to meet Sparrowhawk. I wish to understand just how badly I have failed." 

"Sure," Sundance replied. "We can go there now. If Corduroy allows it, you can say hello and spend a bit of time with her. But if Corduroy says no, that's final. Please respect that." 

"I find your terms agreeable, Sundance, and I thank you for your kindness…" 
> No cure from Corduroy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The afternoon had the bluest of blue skies. It was the perfect compliment to the feeling of laziness that permeated the barony. Hardly anypony did hard labour; it was just too hot for such demanding endeavours. Sun-heated air shimmered above the rocks and dazzled any unwary eye that looked for a little too long. On a day such as this one, one could almost see the sunflowers and corn growing if one stared hard enough and long enough. 

Argyle Ascot, an earth pony, seemed to be quite smitten with the place. He was clean, fastidious even, as neat and well-groomed as his vanity demanded. Eyes wide, he pranced from place to place, sometimes almost gamboling. From flower patch to flower patch, to sunflowers to corn, and he even went over to meet the cows and goats grazing to create the firebreak. Something about his happiness was infectious to Sundance, who suspected that it might be nice to see some green after living in the concrete jungle. 

It occurred to Sundance that he and his barony had something unique to offer. 

While he was already aware of this, Argyle's sheer joy truly drove the point home. 

"Everything is so green here," Argyle remarked whilst he pronked this-away and that-away. The scarf around his neck flipple-flappled in the stiff breeze and he paused for a second to strike a handsome pose. "Green plants. Black soil. Big grey rocks of some kind. There's no dull haze to obscure the air and fade out the colours. It would be a shame for this to be lost to development. One of my campaign promises was to enforce clean air standards for Fillydelphia. As it currently is, there are no consequences for pollution right now. No incentives to be clean." 

Sundance thought of the coal dust that befouled everything in Baltimare and found he did not miss it. 

"Be mindful, Sundance… you have a rare treasure here. Do not be hasty in your rush to develop. Preserve as much of this as you can. There's only so much unspoilt land left in Equestria and every day the industrialists claim just a little bit more. Perhaps we shall have a long discussion sometime soon. Give me a chance to ply my trade as a city planner… you have this lovely blank canvas, I do declare." 



 

An immaculately-clean Corduroy stood outside of the infirmary door with her forearms crossed over her girth. Her patchwork beanie appeared to be freshly laundered and was free of wrinkles. She looked down at Argyle, who in turn looked up at her, and the both of them studied one another. Much to Sundance's dismay, Argyle's jubilance had departed, and the earth pony now seemed quite cautious and reserved. 

"Without intent for offense, this is the closest that I have ever been to a diamond dog," Argyle said to the stoic nurse who looked down upon him. "I must confess, I am terrified. Beyond that, I am also ashamed, because I should be better than this. Please, I beg your forgiveness while I give myself a good sorting out." 

Corduroy's expression softened, her ears unpricked, and as she hunkered down to eye-level with Argyle, her tail gave a brief wag. Once she was down, she reached out, slowly and with great care, and then spent a moment adjusting Argyle's neckerchief until all the wrinkles were smoothed out. Argyle, for his own part, handled it rather well, or so Sundance believed. It was a good thing that Corduroy kept smelling salts around though, because for a few tense seconds, that seemed to be a likely outcome. 

"I can smell your fear," Corduroy said, almost whispering. "What is it about me that scares you so?" 

"I don't know," Argyle breathlessly replied. "I wish I knew. I would be rid of this detriment if I could. Such a business is made ensuring that my kind live in fear of your kind." 

"I know," the nurse said, her tone reassuring and soothing. 

"Were I but able, I would send this irrational fear away… but I seem to be unable to do so." A loud gulp was heard from Argyle, who now trembled while he stood, chilled by the frozen touch of fear. "You seem incredibly nice. Please, I beg of you… do not think less of me." 

Without a thought for why he did so, Sundance took a step backwards. 

"If I might ask, is there some way that I can get better?" 

To which she replied, "That is some question to ask a nurse." 

"I am in need of healing." 

"Hmm. I am uncertain of how to diagnose this condition." 

"My office has wronged your kind greatly," Argyle said, and when he spoke he dropped his gaze groundward. "Taxes are collected, but very little representation is given. I am aware of the problem… painfully aware of the problem, in fact. But when I bring it up at meetings and gatherings of the city council, the conversation dies a dreadful death by murderous silence. At this moment, right now, this very second, I am eaten up with guilt because I do very little to force some headway on the issue." 

"If it really is forgiveness you're after, that's not something I can help you with," was her now-pained response. "I can only speak for me, myself, and I cannot be the voice for all my kind. No more so than you are the voice for all of yours." 

"Then it is as I feared." Sighing, Argyle shook his head, which he raised just a little. 

"You made an effort, though," she said to him, her tone warm and kind. "Which is more than most do. "Just… be brave and stick to it. Find some resolve. Refuse to let the issue drop." 

"If only it were so easy." Somehow, Argyle found the courage to return his gaze to meet Corduroy's. "It has come to my attention only recently that if I am to fix the city, I must fix all of the city, or else it will only topple down again. Fillydelphia is a city of ponies, diamond dogs, griffons, dragons, and even minotaurs." 

"But the elected officials care only about the ponies." 

"Sadly, yes. That is, in fact, the case." 

Reaching out, Corduroy placed one paw beneath Argyle's chin and cradled his head within it. Then, after a deep breath, "The only advice I have to offer is to be brave and steadfast." 

"Were it so easy," he replied, his ears drooping. "I know that, ultimately, I am the one responsible for fixing this mess. Because I am the one in charge. But the task is so large… and I am but a little pony of the least magical variety. My one trick is that I am handsome enough that other ponies want to look at me and pay attention to some of what I have to say." 

"The only advice that I can give you is that you and Sundance have a lot that you could learn from one another." Her voice was stern and gentle, and very much that of a nurse offering her patient some much-needed guidance. "Sundance is wise and he listens. He doesn't say much, except for when he does. When he does say something, it usually needs to be said. He is wise in the same way that you are charismatic. Seek out his counsel." Then, she pulled her paw away from beneath Argyle's chin and patted him on top of his head. 

Sundance, for his own part, practically beamed from within, though he showed no outward signs. 

"Of course, Sundance is only getting started at being wise." Standing up straight, Corduroy then scratched just behind her right ear absentmindedly. "I'm pretty sure that's how he'll be remembered, though I could be wrong. He might end up as Sundance, the Owlbear Slayer, or Sundance, Manticore Scratching Post. Given the right situation, his wisdom goes right out the window." 

With a quick roll of his eyes, Sundance scowled—but maintained his silence. 

After all, she wasn't entirely wrong. 

"Owlbears?" Argyle blinked. "How dreadful. You mean… those are real... they exist?" 

This time, it was Corduroy's turn to roll her eyes, and so she did, with remarkable deadpanitity. 

Argyle, quick to recover himself, harrumphed away his ignorance and then asked, "We came to see Sparrowhawk. Might we?" 

"No," was Corduroy's firm reply. "She's sound asleep. Which is good. She's finally getting good sleep. Maybe later." 

"Oh." If he was let down, Argyle showed no outward sign of it. "Well, let the poor dear sleep then. I'll not disturb her for the sake of my own comfort. But when she does wake, I would very much like to see her. I have an apology to make." 

"I'll send someone to fetch you," Corduroy said to Argyle. "It was nice meeting you." 

"It was nice meeting you as well," he replied with a bow of his head. 



 

The southern view from the top of the gatehouse was truly spectacular. Sundance stood in the shade of the belltower. He didn't focus on any particular thing, but allowed his eyes to wander, taking in every detail that stood out for him. Beside him, Argyle sat upon a somewhat crude wooden bench made by Double Helping and placed atop the gatehouse just for this very purpose. Far off in the distance, poofy white clouds zigzagged unnaturally, tugged upon by feral winds and errant magical currents. 

"You have a remarkable nurse, Sundance." 

"She's the best," he agreed. 

"Perhaps in time, I will find the testicular fortitude needed to shake this fear." 

"I had my own fears," Sundance confessed in a low voice. "Perhaps a part of me still does. I was raised on a steady diet of movies and books that portrayed diamond dogs as villains. Not going to lie, it was rough trying to shake all that." 

"I say, I would imagine so." A soft sigh floated out of Argyle's flared nostrils. "We earth ponies are stubborn, steadfast creatures. Sometimes I wonder if that works against us. We hold tight to the things that should perhaps be best let go. Does it make it harder to let go of my preconceived notions? I don't know. Dare I even ask?" 

Thoughtful as ever, Sundance considered these words for a time, then said, "I think it's a pony problem, and not specifically an earth pony problem. Though perhaps tribe might play some small role." A thought occurred to him, and in a rare moment of recklessness, he gave voice to it without much consideration as to what was being said. "Though, I have noticed with the earth ponies here that the whole lot of them think and act as one. If just a few accept something, then they all seem to accept something. They were a bit skittish of Corduroy when she first arrived. Others, too." 

"That is, in fact, a thing we do. Earth pony consensus. We have a powerful herd-think that runs through our minds. It can be good for us, but also absolutely terrible for our own better interests. If just one of us digs in our hooves and refuses to budge, it can and will cause others to do the same." 

This gave Sundance something to think about, and so he did. 

"Just one earth pony not liking something can cause others to feel the same way. A quirk of our mindset, I reckon. I've had it happen with Fudge and I. Initially, I'll like something, but she'll dislike it, and then for reasons I cannot fully explain, I grow to dislike it too, even though I can't explain why. It is utterly and completely irrational, and I hate it. Psychologists suggest that we have this consensus to keep us safe from danger, so that we think and act as one, as one unified body." 

At a loss for words, Sundance had nothing he could say; nothing that he could contribute. 

"Princess Cadance has gained some notoriety after she suggested that large cities might be bad for ponies because of our herd behaviour. She was very brave saying what she did, and I admire her courage. Funny thing, courage. I seem to lack it. My vanity, which is as frail and delicate as a hothouse flower, has a partner, another weakness that does me in, and that is that I spook easily. When the house was on fire, I very nearly had to be carried out." 

"When I get scared, I get dumb," Sundance said to Argyle. "I'm not just any moron, I'm a magical moron. There's papers to prove it. Supposedly, I'm immune to the effects of fear, but I don't know. I still feel it, I guess. A little. For a short time. But then I don't. And I change. And what I change into scares me a bit. Scares? When my smarts come back, I feel anxious about what I become when intelligence goes south like a flock of birds." 

"I am well-educated, but that is not the same as being intelligent," Argyle replied. "Fudge, she's intelligent. A certified genius. She has papers and everything. It bothers me that she almost didn't make it into college due to financial concerns. But she and her sister scrimped and saved, while also relying upon some help from their parents. Ponies like Fudge should be given higher education free-of-charge for Equestria's benefit." 

Sundance offered up a thoughtful nod. 

"Corduroy says you are wise," Argyle continued. "I am charismatic. Fudge is smart. Cherry is well-organised, smart, and she's the planner. Were we to work together, we could achieve great things. As I have stated, I want us to be neighbors. To be neighborly with one another. I'm a city planner by trade, so I could be an asset to you, Sundance. Of course, I wouldn't charge you for my services. That would be uncouth."

He thought about mentioning his lack of college education, but then Sundance chose silence. 

"There's no way I could send ponies to this place as it is right now." Argyle glanced about, his ears splayed sideways, and after a few seconds of examination, he shook his head from side to side. "Culture shock. No electricity. No running water. No sanitation. This is bare existence. We have other concerns as well, such as the fact that I don't want to send troublemakers out this way. I don't want to pass my problem-ponies onto you and make them your headache." 

"Well, that is kind of you," Sundance said with a wry smile. 

"We have to trust one another." Argyle's tone was one of severe solemnity. "You have to trust me that I don't take advantage of you. I'm a slick talker and a wheeler-dealer. But I am fair. Good for business. I can be counted on to be good for business. It's how I was raised." 

Sundance nodded. 

"Once this place has a few modern amenities, we can work on an exchange program. My own situation is irrelevant for our long-term plans. I will either be mayor or I will be the Regional Governor. Either way, you and I will be working together. In the span of a year, I want to see what sort of foundation we can lay. I can use city funds for townsteading and homesteading grants. There's a lot to work to be done, Sundance, and it is officially time to dispense with the pleasantries." 

"I'm fine with hard work," was Sundance's response. 

"Good. Good. Within the next three days, I want us to have a spot picked out for a planned settlement. No sense wasting time. Let nopony accuse us of dragging our hooves." 

"I don't know when we'll get electrification and sanitation," Sundance said, "but I know of a great place for a settlement. An ideal place. A stretch of land between two rivers. Easy to irrigate. A long time ago, it used to be farmland." 

"Sounds perfect." 

"There's also the train depot far down south. It's ready to become a town. A tiny town." 

"Another good place to start." 

"There's also a hospital complex in the planning stages. It's hit a few snags. But I think we can help each other with that. So we have options for townsites. I could show you the proposal papers for the hospital complex, if you'd like." 

Argyle nodded and said, "I would very much like to see those. Perhaps I could add my own special touch to them." 

A tremendous metaphorical weight was lifted from Sundance's back, and he sighed with relief. Perhaps the plans for the hospital could be sorted out by Argyle. Hopeful and burning with sunny optimism, Sundance couldn't wait to get started. While he himself had no idea what to do or how to move forward, others did—which meant that he had to trust them. As Twilight had told him, he had to make friends. 

And Argyle was a friend already. 
> Pegasus paradigm
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"As much as I'd like for us to hang out, there are other things I need to do," Sundance said, and he made every effort to hide his twinge of guilt. "That's part of the job too. I have a new mouth to feed, I'm told. And by now, school must be out. Also, in the coming days, Megara the Lioness will be whipping me into shape so I can learn how to fight. I'll give this as much attention as I can spare." 

Argyle's smile was warm and gracious. "You worry too much, friend. Do what needs done. Do not fret about me and my efforts to work myself into an early grave. The Crystal Empire's plan to build a hospital complex is brilliant, but flawed. Since I'm not doing much else at the moment, due to rather unfortunate circumstances, I do believe I will give this a good sorting out. This could be good for Fillydelphia as well." 

This gave Sundance pause, and he considered his new friend's words. They were in need of warm bodies. Workers. Beyond just workers, they needed a township with service staff, hospitality workers to look after the needs of families that chose to stay at the hospital with those in recovery. Sundance's optimism, like the rising sun, cast a warm glow upon him, a reassuring sense that everything would be just fine and work itself out somehow. 

Before he could say anything, Earwig breathlessly burst out of the stairwell and into the room proper. She'd barely come to a skidding halt while she spat out the words, "Pegasus courier. For your friend here. He just landed." 

"Oh dear," Argyle said. "A bearer of bad news, no doubt." 

"Maybe it'll be good news," said Sundance, who basked in the warm afterglow of his optimism. 

"Doubtful." Argyle's face, a theatrical canvas, now appeared as though he drank unsweetened lemonade. "Detestable circumstances be damned. Some pack of fools probably burned down something else in Fillydelphia. Or perhaps that cancerous asylum exploded. Who knows what dire events have unfolded." 

"Let's go and find out," Sundance suggested. "If it's bad news, we'll sort it out together." 



 

The courier, as it turned out, was just a colt—a colt only barely into his adolescence. He stood on the grass near the yacht surrounded by the elder guardsponies, and when Argyle approached, the young colt bowed his head. The older guards, the retirees, had expressions ranging from solemn to grim—which didn't make Sundance feel good about the situation at all. Something about the contrast between old and young drove home the situation and tapped into the powerful cistern of emotion that existed at the bottom of Sundance's soul. 

This news would not be good—but it might very well be expected. 

Argyle composed himself with a short inhale, a pricking of his ears, and he stood a little taller. It was interesting to see how the refined earth pony handled himself, and Sundance wondered how much he might learn if he were to watch Argyle so that his mannerisms might be studied. By Sundance's own estimation, Argyle was everything a baron, a leader should be, and his behaviour inspired Sundance to be a better pony. 

"Mister Ascot—" 

"Please, just call me Argyle. Dispense with the formalities and get to the point." 

"Mister Argyle Ascot… sir… I come with terrible news." 

"I am no longer mayor of Fillydelphia," Argyle said, his voice flat and devoid of feeling. "What happened, exactly?" 

"I don't know the full details," the colt replied, and it was obvious that he struggled to recall the details. "They tried to have a recall election from what I understand, but the city council voted against that measure. Then a group of judges, magistrates, and city officials declared a state of emergency. The city council was dismissed, a new council was appointed by the emergency committee, and then the new council and the emergency committee voted to remove you from office. Princess Twilight Sparkle sent a full report. It's in my bag." 

"How very democratic of them." These words were a dry deadpan and Argyle practically spat them out one at a time. "I suppose my first act as Regional Governor will be to have them all removed from their positions. Though I reckon that will make everything worse. Anything else I should know?" 

"I am to relocate you to Canterlot immediately," was the colt's hesitant response. "For your own safety. Intelligence suggests that threats have been made against—" 

"Intelligence, indeed. As if I didn't get the message when the mob burned down my house with me and my family inside of it." 

Quite without warning, Sundance's mouth surprised him with the following words: "He'll be staying right here." 

"But I have orders—" 

"And I am giving you orders," said Sundance. 

"But I have orders," the colt insisted. 

"Scout Pinfeather, this is a good defensible position," one of the elder guards said to the colt. "Nothing but wilderness for hundreds of miles in every conceivable direction. I daresay this is a safer location than Canterlot." 

"Rats," another one of the old guards said. 

"Yeah, those. Rats." 

"But what about my orders?" asked the colt. "Princess Twilight Sparkle gave me very clear instructions." 

"We'll send you home with a full explanation," one of the guards offered in return. 

"But… orders," the colt stammered. 

"While all of you sort this out, I must go and be with my family." Argyle stood so rigid and still that he didn't appear to be breathing. "Sundance… I thank you for your hospitality. It is a boon and a blessing in these troubled times. Now, I must beg your patience and forbearance, as I do not wish to be disturbed for a time. Good day to you, sirs." 

"I understand," Sundance said while the young colt attempted to deal with the situation. 

"Princess Twilight Sparkle attended my cute-ceañera" the colt said. "I don't want to disappoint her. Do you have any idea what I had to do to get appointed to her?" 

"This is friendship business, Scout Pinfeather" an old guard said, his voice gruff and impatient. "The Princess of Friendship will understand. Argyle, before you go, you should get those documents in his bag. They might prove to be informative reading." 

"Why yes, of course. Thank you." 

"But… orders…" 



 

As he headed for the orphan's bunkhouse, Sundance silently suffered a crisis of faith. As was so often the case during his moments of doubt, he thought of his mother. What might she say about this? She was an opinionated pony. It wasn't just Argyle being removed from office, but everything, every event that rippled outward in the chaotic string of consequences. In Sundance's own opinion, Argyle struck him as a good pony. His willingness to expose himself to Corduroy was all the proof that Sundance needed. 

And a good pony was stripped of office for what? 

For what good reason? 

The world did not make sense to Sundance and during his moment of self-doubt, he could not help but wonder if Princess Celestia and her fellow royals should be given absolute control. Should the little ponies bend their knees to the larger? Equestria was tearing itself apart—and had the freedom to do so. It made him think of his own rule and as he hurried along, he felt the icy claws of doubt rake along the length of his spine. He had bumbled his way to success either by accident or fortunate circumstance; or perhaps a mix of both. What did he know of rule? 

He seemed incapable of forming his own opinions, it seemed, and even now he focused on what his mother might think. It made him stop; he came to an abrupt halt and thought about what his mother knew. She was a little pony full of flaws and some truly wretched opinions. So why was it during a moment of crisis like this one that he thought about what she might think or how she might react? 

Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he snorted and then stood there, shaking his head from side to side. 

This was a world where the wicked prospered and the good were struck down. A world where the ultimate source of goodness stood passive for fear of accusations of tyranny. Sundance found himself living in a world of spoilt foals and a parent who lived in fear of their offsprings' temper. Princess Celestia would sit back and allow them to shit the bed, both metaphorically and literally. And then she would let them wallow in it. 

For the briefest of instances, Sundance was overcome with intense inarticulate rage. 

But the rage did not last long. He was not a pony given to rage, but rather, a creature given to passive contemplation. Was this how it started? Did he just experience a possible deviation from the well-lit path? A moment of rage, of hot, thoughtless anger, followed by how things should be. The lurid temptation of good intentions, along with the motivation to do things how Princess Celestia would surely want them done—if she took action. Is this how it started? Was this the way a pony stumbled off of the path? 

His rage scared him—as well it should. 

Sunbeam Shimmer operated on the principle of how things should be and that was her flaw. The metaphorical clouds parted and Sundance saw everything with perfect clarity. A great fire of calm was stoked within him, which burned away some of his dross. Now he understood the danger of anger, of rage, and a misguided sense of righteousness. Wary, now more so than ever, Sundance would not allow himself to be led astray from the well-lit path. Princess Celestia—his distant grandmother—had her reasons. Whatever those reasons were, he would respect them—even if perhaps he didn't agree with them. 

After all, what did he know? 

He was one of the bed shitters—a bed shitter put in charge of other bed shitters. 

At least he knew and somewhat understood the motivations of his fellow bed shitters. 

Now outside of the door of the bunkhouse, he paused for a moment to collect himself. Something within him had changed. Perhaps not a profound change. Maybe it was growth. It might be time to come out from beneath the shadow of his mother's wing. He had his own wings—and perhaps it was time to cast his own shadow. While he was not yet a parent, not a father in the way it mattered most, fate had seen fit to give him those in need of shelter. Not his offspring, but the barony's offspring. 

Mindful of what they might learn from him, he pushed open the door… 
> Well-watered minds
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Much to Sundance's surprised astonishment, the bunkhouse was empty. For a short time, he stood just inside the door so that he might enjoy the coolness. There was no conditioned air here, just a trick of science and nature that he barely understood. Something about convection cooling? Also, there was the fact that much of the bunkhouse was underground. Whatever made it work, it was effective. While not downright frosty, it was cool enough to make his dock tingle pleasantly and when he raised his wings from his sweaty sides, he shivered not from cold, but from pleasure. 

The empty room had a few toys scattered about, but it wasn't messy. It looked lived-in, which was important, Sundance supposed. Hollyhock managed the place well enough; while the toys and the bed covers were wrinkled, he saw no crumbs, no dirt nor debris. While he stood there, he reminded himself that he had promises to keep, such as retrieving a surplus of yarn for Gerard. It would be an act with its own reward, surely, because if supplied with yarn, the young griffon would most certainly make scarves, hats, and even blankets. 

All of which would be useful come winter.

Lost in thought, he felt the cool air circulating around him as a light breeze flowed through the open vents in the ceiling. His own domicile was rather warm, though cool air could be felt creeping in the darkened stairwells, perpetually in shadow where the sun never shined. With a sigh, he lowered his head, spread his wings a bit more, and then he allowed the residual heat from his moment of anger to cool away completely. The feverish sensation—the consequences of his own fury—retreated from his ears and after he blinked his eyes a few times, he felt better. More normal and less feral. 

With his good mood fully restored, he turned about and set off to find his missing orphans. 



 

"No, Milord, I don't know where Holly and the orphans are. They went off with Puddle Jumper on a nature walk together. I think he called it a 'school field trip' or some such nonsense. Earwax and Potato went off with them. And so did Lamp Black. He probably went along to find stuff he needs, though it could be because he's taken a shine to young Ochre. Colt's a painter, ye ken." 

"Hmm," Sundance hmmed, and he nodded at Privy Pit, thankful for her assistance. 

"Ol' Lampy has a limp. I'm surprised he went. Fool must be in a good mood. He doesn't get to talk about paint and inks and such so much. Made himself a friend, he has." 

"And I haven't even met Ochre yet," Sundance remarked. 

"Well, you got Milord stuff to do, Milord. Can't always deal with our day-to-day goings on." 

"I suppose you're right… but I still need to get to know our orphans. It's important." 

"If you say so, Milord. It's nice that you take an interest in the lives of us peasants. Better than the last Milord." The old mare snurgle-gurgled for a short time, and then spat out a tremendous wad of yellow-green lung-butter after her mention of the previous Milord. 

"Lamp Black is hurt?" asked Sundance, who just realised what it was that Privy Pit had said. "Why is he limping? Does Corduroy know? Is he alright?" 

"Ol' Lampy pulled a muscle when he was pounding down Hoe Hum's potato cellar door, Milord." 

It took several seconds for this sentence to make sense, and when it did, Sundance wished it hadn't. He recoiled in what was almost disgust, while battling to keep a straight face. "Well," he somehow managed to say, "I hope he has a speedy recovery." 

"He's a goer, ye ken. Even after he pulled a muscle, he finished the job. That's some dedication." 

"It is," Sundance agreed in the most polite manner he could muster, given the situation. 

"Sometimes," Privy Pit said whilst she leaned in closer to Sundance, "you get an itchy asshole. It's just one of those things that happens. Now, you can squirm, or walk funny, or wiggle your tail about… or you can find a nice fella who'll give your asshole a good stretch. Kills the itch. Hoe Hum's asshole is always itchy and she—" 

"That's more than I ever wanted to know," Sundance said, making a polite-as-possible interruption. "I really must be going. Milord business. Must find my missing orphans." 

"Alright, Milord. Good luck." 

"Thank you, Privy. Go and get out of the sun. It's hot enough to bake your brains." 

"Too late, Milord. My brain's been soft boiled." Privy wore a goofy grin and there was a gleam of mayhem that twinkled in her eyes. 

Thoroughly disgusted by the conversation, and unable to think of root cellars the same way ever again, Sundance hurried off in search of his missing herd of orphans. 



 

Surrounded by empty sky on all sides, Sundance allowed his mind to wander. He flew above the peaks, held aloft by rising currents. There was beauty up here, a beauty not found when one flew over the city. There was no smog, no soot, just clear, clean air. Just empty skies, which suited Sundance just fine. From up here, he could just make out the changeling settlement—though he had no idea what they might be doing. The yacht was a tiny toy from this vantage point, a miniscule thing, and so was Castle Daybreak. 

If only his problems could shrink with height and distance. 

It didn't take long for him to spot his gaggle of orphans, which were gathered in the orchard. He attempted to drift in that direction, but the wind had other plans. Angling his wings, he tacked against the current, a neat trick that many pegasus ponies spoke of, but few mastered. As for himself, he'd learned how to do it entirely by accident, after a powerful gust of wind threatened to smash him into a water tower. 

Some pegasus ponies were fast; Sundance was not one of them. Other pegasus ponies could fly in almost any condition, any hazard; Sundance counted himself among these ponies. Treacherous winds assailed him, no doubt miffed about his tacking trick, but he used these annoyed winds to keep himself aloft without the need to flap his wings. It was lazy flying, gliding, which was sometimes the best way to roam the skies. Mastery allowed for a certain amount of laziness—a lesson that his grandmother had taught him. Fledgling fliers had to work hard so that one day they might be lazy. 

Then, with a slow roll, Sundance began his power-dive. 



 

A flat stone acted as a makeshift table and upon this rock there was a sturdy brass microscope. The orphans were gathered around this table, and each took a turn peeping into the microscope. Sundance, his wings folded, stood close and silently watched. All of his school field trips were to museums, art galleries, and one time, the zoo. City-dweller stuff. As for science, it was done in a classroom—and not out in nature. 

The orchard now looked a lot more like an orchard, though there was a lot of work still to be done. With the destruction of the beaver dams, the water flowed high and fast. It was deep now, with places that Sundance would be in over his head. Today's science lesson seemed to be all about the water, from what he'd gathered, and they were looking at samples beneath the microscope. The barony was a huge place and there was a lot that could be learned here. 

"The river has cooties"—little Lemongrass's voice was low and polite—"just like my sister. She's never kissing me again. Yuck." 

In wry response, Sundance replied, "Just imagine what you have." 

With a gasp, Lemongrass fell over into the tall grass, rolled onto his back, and laid there, seemingly dead. From behind him, Sundance heard soft, faint laughter from Hollyhock and some of the other adults. He himself maintained a solemn expression, though there was some good cheer on the inside, a good cheer that struggled against his many troubles. 

The new colt, Ochre, sat near the table, patiently waiting his turn. He was almost the same colour as Sundance. A unicorn, his horn erupted with a shower of sparks every few seconds, and he was forced to squint so that he might protect his eyes. He was on the heavy side, and the stocky colt sweated profusely in the heat. But, he seemed happy and comfortable enough. 

With his tongue now lolled out, Lemongrass continued to improve his act of playing dead.  

"This is why we boil water," Puddle Jumper said to the little ones gathered around the microscope. "And why clean water is so important. You should always be grateful for clean, potable water. It is a precious resource that Equestria squanders." 

"Yucky," Flax said with a shudder. 

"Giardia duodenalis can leave you quite ill. Unpleasantly ill. Some call it 'beaver fever', but this is a misnomer. Parasitic infection is the cause." Patient and kind, Puddle Jumper showed no outward signs of reaction when some of the little ones around him giggled. 

"We should bury the dead," Amber Dawn said in a near-whisper. "Because he already smells." 

Hollyhock, her voice hitching from withheld laughter managed to say, "He does." 

After a soft clearing of his throat, Puddle Jumper continued, saying: "The water here is a miracle of nature. This is one of the few places in Equestria where the weather is created in a mostly natural way. There is no real pollution to speak of, and we can experience rain in its natural state." 

"How?" asked Gisela, who now turned her full attention on Puddle Jumper. 

"This barony functions as a sort of natural weather factory," the soft-spoken teacher replied, and this caused a few gasps among his students. "It also cleans and purifies the water. A long time ago, there was a cataclysm that broke our world. Many of the natural functions ceased to perform as they should. Those that did were wild, dangerous, and unpredictable. Feral weather can have its own mind, and that mind is often filled with malice for living things." 

"And especially for pegasus ponies," Sundance added while his thoughts turned to the storm from the Everfree that tried to chase him. 

"Yes, especially for pegasus ponies," Puddle Jumper agreed. "Our kind battles the weather in all its forms." He took a deep breath, perhaps calming himself, and gestured with his wing at the babbling, burbling water near to them. "The water follows a cycle. What you see here is the middle." Foreleg extended, he swung it around to point at the snow-capped mountain peaks to the north. "It starts up there. With the snow. Pegasus ponies did not make that snow. It is feral snow. It makes itself. We'll get to that in a moment. For now, let us speak of the water. 

"The snow melts and flows down the side of the mountain in the forms of streams, creeks, brooks, and all those other poetic, descriptive names. These gather and collect into rivers, like the one beside us. These rivers carry dirt and sediment, which is why this orchard is so fertile. This is nature functioning on its own, without the assistance of ponies, which is quite a spectacular miracle, given everything that's happened. 

"Much of our soil has died due to the corrupting influence of that cataclysm that I mentioned. Earth ponies keep it alive, this is temporary, and places where there are few earth ponies dry up and become barren. Like Griffonstone. We're still trying to understand the how and the why. But here… in this place, fertile black soil is created naturally and is carried by the water. None of you understand how precious this miracle is, but one day, when you are older, perhaps you will. 

"This river flows for quite some distance, until it reaches the Sulphur Suckhole. Which acts like a big drain. Just like the one in a bathtub or in the bottom of the sink." 

For a moment, Sundance endured intense, almost painful shivers. He thought of what he'd been told by Birnen Streusel and Kant Apfel—about how ponies were thrown into the suckhole. It was a low place out in the middle of a marsh where many rivers and creeks and such all collected. For a moment that stretched for far too long, Sundance struggled against himself to make the shivers go away. 

"Once it reaches the Sulphur Suckhole"—a number of the little ones giggled this time at the second mention of the name—"the water goes down below ground. There are many such places around here, natural drains and caves where water flows underground. It is a unique feature to the geography here. But the water goes down and is collected into cisterns and from there it slowly flows through the rock and into an aquifer. 

"This is an underground filtration system, one that is precious and unique because it hasn't been contaminated with pollution. It is also unique in that it is quite hot. The water is boiled down there in the hidden places beneath this barony. That boiled water comes back up to the surface—which is a lesson we'll cover at another time—and that water evaporates in the form of steam. 

"If you look around you, you will see the rising columns of steam. There are also an uncountable number of geysers, steam vents, boiling springs, boiling lakes, bathwater hot streams, creeks, and brooks… there's a lot of hot water in this place. There's no other place in Equestria quite like it. All this hot water rises in the form of steam, and that… that is how clouds form and feral weather happens. This naturally purified water eventually becomes the snow that we see on the peaks and the cycle begins anew. Really, the whole process is spectacular. This barony functions as a natural factory for feral weather. Now, isn't that marvellous?" 

"But there are other places, right?" asked Pluck, who seemed keenly interested in everything said. "I mean, other places with feral weather? Other systems?" 

"There is Vanhoover," Puddle Jumper replied. "It constantly rains there due to some sort of magic anomaly. Which seems to be growing worse. But yes, it has a similar process. But the rains of Vanhoover are heavily polluted. They have acid rain, which is slowly dissolving the city. All of you live in a remarkably, perhaps miraculously clean place. As your teacher, I want you to be aware of the wonder to be found all around you. I want you to have some awareness of how precious it is. How valuable it is. And to be aware of the ease of which it can be ruined. 

"But not to worry, my students. I am positive that our baron will safeguard our most precious assets." With a slow turn of his head, Puddle Jumper focused his stern gaze on Sundance, and did not turn away when things became more than a little uncomfortable. 

"That's important… yes…" Sundance managed to say. "Don't have a plan just yet, but I'm working on it. And for the sake of honesty, that, uh, plan… that plan involves listening to others and taking advice from those who know more about it than I do." 

"That is a very good plan," Puddle Jumper said to his students. "A promising plan. A plan that should be praised. But for now, let us continue our lesson and learn more about our most precious natural resource… water." 
> Pronking pegasus perusal
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another beautiful scorcher of a day in the Sunfire Barony. Though the dawn was not even an hour ago, the temperature had risen to sweaty-pony levels, which was an especially uncomfortable contrast after a chilly night. The humidity left the air sticky, almost soupy, and the foul reek of sulphur had horrendous potency which made it impossible to ignore. In the back of Sundance's mind, he noticed the eggy funk, but he spared little thought for it. After living with it for so long, it was just something that was there—even on days when it smelled so terrible that it couldn't be ignored. 

As he drew closer to the showers behind the infirmary, he heard the ear-pricking sound of crying. Not a pony crying; his sharp ears could tell the difference. This was whimpering, and it was distinctly canine. Doubling his pace, he hurried along, worried about the cause and the source of this upset. Somedoggy was in the midst of a rotten morning, but maybe something could be done to make things better. 

Coming around the corner, he spotted Runt, who whimpered and howled with distress. Surrounded by his fellow orphans, the poor pup was in the middle of a major meltdown. Hollyhock attempted to quiet the others, while it was Gerard that tried to calm poor Runt, but with little success. The pup sat in the shady grass near the infirmary wall and after sucking in a lungful of air, he caught his second wind. 

"Rough morning?" asked Sundance. 

It was Gerard who answered: "Rough night, too. Runt had nightmares all night." 

"Aw, poor little guy." 

"And then he was very upset about his face being dirty. He said something about being a bad dog and then this happened." 

"Runt, are you having a bad day?" Sundance, empathetic as always, moved closer to comfort the crying pup. 

Rather than respond, Runt redoubled his efforts, opened his mouth wide enough to reveal his jagged molars, and bayed. It was a forlorn sound, an awful sound, and almost every ear in the barony pricked as the heartbreaking howl echoed through the box canyon. What made it so much worse was that Runt's face was snotty now, messier, and Sundance knew that being in such a state made the tormented pup feel even worse. 

Sundance wanted to hold the miserable creature, but Gerard seemed to have it under control. It occurred to Sundance just how patient and gentle the griffon was. How calm he was. Gerard was Hollyhock's helper, a role that he was well-suited for. Ponies in general associated grumpiness with griffons, and for good reason. Most griffons were a bit on the grumpy side of the emotional spectrum. But Gerard showed remarkable gentleness and forbearance by the standards of any species. 

"The showers are full," Amber Dawn said to Sundance, her eyes wide and her ears tall. 

"And the potties, too," her younger brother, Lemongrass, added. 

"Yeah, that cabbage and apple stew has a way of working through you," Sundance remarked, and he tried not to think too much about the fact that he'd come to take care of his own business. "I think we need more facilities. Perhaps an expansion is in order." 

"The bunkhouse sounded like a brass band practice last night and I—" 

Hollyhock shouted, "Pluck, don't say that!" 

"—couldn't get any sleep at all. Silent Thunder's thunder wasn't very silent." 

"It wasn't," Hollyhock agreed, and then with a shake of her head, she came to her senses. "Pluck, don't say things like that. Good manners!" 

"It's hard to have good manners in a circus!" 

"Pluck, if you don't stop your sass, so help me! Stop that, or else!"  

"Or else what? More brass band practice tonight, Miss Trombone?" 

An eyeroll and a snort was the only meaningful response that Hollyhock could spare. Meanwhile, some of Runt's sobs had subsided a bit, and he whimpered while Gerard patted him on the back. Sundance took note of Hollyhock's patience—no doubt worn thin—but was glad to note that it held steadfast. There was a sense of family here. Or perhaps Sundance was imagining things. At least, he hoped that there was a sense of family here. There seemed to be some affectionate antagonism between Pluck and Hollyhock. At least, Sundance hoped it was affectionate. 

Then, as these things tend to go, Runt quieted suddenly, with only a few sniffles to clear his snotty nose. 



 

For a moment, Sundance forgot himself. River Raider had new wings and the still-shiny skin glistened in the bright sunlight. He was so happy to see that she was well that he suffered a lapse in his self restraint, and immediately began pronking about as if he were some school-age colt. Both River Raider and Megara watched him, each with dulled, deadpan expressions, and it was obvious that they did not share in his exuberant, excessive enthusiasm. 

But that didn't matter; he had himself enough happiness for all three of them. 

Bouncing and boinking about, gamboling to and fro, he was quite unlike his usual self. His state of sincere joy was such that he simply could not hold still, nor restrain himself. All of his pressing concerns, all of his worries, his fears, his doubts, the many crushing existential crises all parted like clouds before the sun. Left weightless and buoyant, he did the only thing a pony could do in his situation; he pronked. 

When pronking wasn't enough, he flapped to keep himself airborne for just a few precious seconds more. It wasn't so much about flying, as one might think, but pronking. Coming down was just as important as going up, if not more so. For one's legs to truly act like springs, one had to 'get some air' as some might say in the common parlance. And there were no creatures quite so like the pegasus ponies when it came to 'getting some air'. Their upward and downward trajectories were truly magnificent to behold, and Sundance was no exception. 

"Is he like this all the time?" asked Megara, who cast a sidelong glance at the dour nocturnal pegasus beside her. 

"He is a creature of simple and disgusting goodness," was River Raider's reply. 

"I almost don't want to kick the crap out of him," Megara said, her face stern and thoughtful. "It'd be like smashing a stained glass window. Which I've done. Hoo-wee, Octavia can yell. And swear. And it's not at all like regular swearing, but posh swearing. She's an earth pony though, and she has the endurance to swear for hours." 

Nostrils crinkled, River Raider snorted with contempt. "Look… I don't want to be here. Can we just get this over with?" 

"I need you, Friendo, so I know when I've reached Sunny Boy's breaking point." 

"We're not friends," River Raider retorted with a shake of her shaggy, fierce head. 

"Oh, but we are." Megara, teeth bared, leaned in close enough to thoroughly violate River Raider's equinal space. "We're hunting partners. That involves trust. Trust makes us friends. And we're going to try and make Sunny Boy into something that resembles a warrior. That's a friendship project… Friendo." 

"Get fronked." Her hackles bristling, River Raider bared her own scarily-impressive teeth in a less than friendly way. 

"Oh, somepony is grumpy!" 

"Patronise me and I swear to the Night Lady, I will eat your liver!" 

Mid-pronk, Sundance turned his attention to the tension he sensed between the two incredibly dangerous females. Distracted as he was, he didn't quite stick his landing, and very nearly pitched forward onto his face. River Raider was not a friendly creature; not even a little. Megara on the other hoof, was a friendly creature, and was therefore an annoyance. It made him self-aware, and he worried how much he annoyed River Raider—who was something of a motormouth. Which Megara was as well. 

While most stallions wanted to watch two mares have a tussle, Sundance did not want to see these two titans have a go at one another. The barony might not survive such a scuffle, if movies and books were any indicator of the carnage and mayhem brought about by such an event. These were creatures of legendary toughness and ferocity. Still, something about the prospect of mayhem was somewhat arousing. 

Suddenly, River Raider's stern gaze was upon him, and Sundance immediately wanted to melt into the ground. 

"Ready to put on a show?" Megara asked Sundance. 

After blinking once, Sundance had himself a good look around. There was a surprising number of ponies and other creatures gathered about. Work seemed to be put on hold. The old timers were getting themselves comfortable and sitting in the grass. Some had eager faces. With a turn of his head, he surveyed the situation and determined that they had gathered to watch him get his hindquarters whompled. 

He looked down at the ground, which was soft and somewhat spongy. There were no stones to be seen; the soft grass and earth was a mercy. Corduroy seemed quite distressed, and Sundance wondered who was watching Sparrowhawk. Surely somepony was keeping her company, but still, he worried. River Raider appeared to be quite uncomfortable, and while he very much wanted to comfort her, he knew better than to do so. She was peeved—obviously—and there was no point in making it somehow worse. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Megara's tone was no longer friendly, but was now solemn. Stern. Stony. "If you back out now, I'll not think any less of you. This is a hard path, and few can walk it. If we start down this path together, and you quit, I will think less of you. Backing out now is reasonable. Quitting later after you've started is unforgivable. Consider your actions with great care, Sundance. Make the right choice. Do the right thing." 

Looking about, Sundance noticed that Argyle, his wives, and his daughter sat on a blanket together some distance away. It was a quiet act of bravery, Sundance knew. If Argyle was scared of Corduroy, he must be terrified of River Raider and Megara. Yet, here he was. Why he was here was unknown, be it silent support or maybe to just watch what was sure to be a show. 

It was better to not start at all than quit. 

This gave him pause, and Sundance, who was pronking about willy-nilly mere moments ago, gave himself over to a bit of quiet contemplation. There was no hurry, no frantic need to rush. Sundance-of-the-city was always in a hurry. Baron Sundance had plenty of free time. Ears splayed, he had himself a good look around him, taking time to meet different eyes. While he saw some amusement, he also took notice of some worry. 

"Things will be intimate between us," Megara said, her voice low. "We're going to grapple. Touch one another. If you hold back even in the slightest, if you shy away, I will hurt you. If you don't come at me with everything you have, I will hurt you. Before all of this is done, we will know each other like lovers… lovers that hurt each other." 

Thoroughly disgusted, River Raider cleared her throat and gagged. 

As for Sundance however, the very idea of grappling with Megara made him feel that the sun was entirely too warm and that he needed to find a shady spot forthwith. It was a naughty thought, and there was some guilt lurking beneath the not-so placid waters of his mind. He was a pony; while most ponies might be scared, or at least wary of Megara, he found that there was a certain sort of scary attraction to her. The very prospect of being assaulted by her filled him with giddy foalish glee—but the thought that River Raider was aware of the contents of his brain sobered him rapidly. 

In fact, River Raider was looking right at him in a most peculiar way. 

When her head bobbed, that one little barely perceivable nod almost sent him running with his tail tucked between his legs. There was a lot to sort out when it came to females, but that would have to wait until later. If there was a later. Megara was waiting patiently for a response, and so too it seemed, was everypony else. How long had he been silent? He'd stood in one spot for a while now, it was probably a good idea to say something. 

"I'm ready," he said, uncertain if he were actually so. 

Oh, he was committed, and he would see this through… 

But was he ready? 

Doubtful. 

"You're not ready," River Raider said to him. "Nothing in your miserable life could possibly prepare you for what's about to happen. Prepare for pain." 

"Your encouragement is both welcome and appreciated," he replied. 

"Bah… hurry up, so we can get to the funeral," she returned. 

"Oh, it couldn't possibly be that bad." Doubtful, Sundance took a second or three to consider his own words. "I've had some very exciting landings. Not crashes, mind you. But very exciting landings. Whatever Meg dishes out, I can take it." 

To which River Raider replied, "You're an idiot." 

Where River Raider was all dark clouds with the potential for thunder, Sundance was sunshine and warmth. She was in a bad mood, and he knew why. Being in a crowd had to be hard on her. Her mind was probably bursting at the seams. She was here because she wanted to be here; that had to be the reason. Nothing else could possibly make the cranky bat-winged mare budge if she didn't feel like it. Warm affection flooded through him, and he was thankful for his dour, gloomy friend. 

"Alright… alright… Megara, do your worst. Let's get this over with. I am ready to begin…" 
> Like lovers often do
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Megara was a creature made of muscle. On display in the glorious sunlight, Sundance couldn't help but watch her every movement. What appeared to be steel cables writhed beneath her fuzzy hide and at any given moment dozens of muscles revealed themselves with a myriad of mesmerising means. For Sundance, this was a sort of newfound awakening: the cock crowed to celebrate this new dawn. 

Anticipation was killing him—but Sundance knew that soon enough, Megara would be killing him. She was no mere creature, but a monster. One that reveled in her monsterhood. If a pony could celebrate their status as an equine and take delight in it, then surely it was fine for a monster to bask in the horrifying glory of their monsterhood. Just as it was with Corduroy, a fine creature that he'd grown to love, he chose to accept Megara—he chose to embrace the monster—and in doing so, he was certain that he'd grown in some unknown-yet-meaningful way. 

"Is there any part of you that you are particularly attached to and might miss?" the manticore spawn asked while her supple steel cable muscles flexed. 

"I am attached to all of me," was Sundance's slow, fearful response. "All that I have is what makes me who and what I am." 

In return, Megara threw back her head and laughed. It echoed through the box canyon, a near-deafening roar of rolicking laughter. Sundance too, attempted to laugh, but what came out of him might be better described as a nervous wheeze. Now was not a time to think about trust issues, yet he was remarkably aware of them. She was going to hurt him—there was no escaping this—and he was going to let her. Even worse, there was nothing he could do to stop her. His pride as a pegasus and his sense of duty demanded that he stay the course. 

And so… he would suffer. 

Others might take some pleasure in his suffering and his humiliation. 

That was fine; he was a grown up and he could take it. 

"Alright," she began. "Here's what is going to happen. You… you are going to punch me in the face and—" 

"Punch you in the face?" 

"Yes. Punch me in the face." 

"Punch you in the face?" Incredulous, Sundance could not help but repeat himself. "What if I hurt you?" 

"Hah, as if." 

"That condescension kind of stings." 

"Oh, that's nothing. If that sting bothers you, you're in deep trouble." 

"So you want me to punch you in the face?" he asked. 

"Yes," she replied. "Stand up. Take a bipedal stance. Take a swing. And box me right in the booger holes." She smiled, revealing multiple rows of serrated teeth. "You get one free shot to start this little adventure we're about to have together." 

"So… you want me to hit you with everything I have, I suppose?" 

"All that you've got. Hold nothing back. I can't measure your effectiveness as a warrior if you pull your punches." Whiskers quivering, her tail swishing from side to side, Megara assumed a defenseless position—and waited. 

From some distance away, Hollyhock could be heard saying, "It's wrong to hit each other, and is very wrong for colts to hit fillies… but this is different. Just don't do this to each other, or there will be trouble." 

"Will you hit us?" asked Pluck. 

"No, you little goof! But I'll stand you in the corner for hours!" 

"That's not very nice," Pluck said to Hollyhock. 

"It's completely avoidable," she retorted. 

Pluck asked, "When Sundance gets mauled, who will replace him?" 

"Not you," Sundance said to the colt. 

"Bother." 

A bad set of nerves caused Sundance to jitter and every muscle spasmed from a flood of adrenaline. As Megara suggested, he rose up on his hind legs, spent a moment to find his balance, and then raised his forelegs into something that was almost a boxer's stance. He'd only ever seen this in movies, and the occasional fight in the school hallway. Since he didn't spend a lot of time on two legs, his balance wasn't quite as good as he hoped it might be, and he suspected that he was going to embarrass himself soon. 

This was a delicate situation, with everypony watching. Sundance, still some distance away, tried a test swipe. It went well, he felt, so he tried it again, and then once more. When he found his balance, he bounced around a bit on his hind hooves, whilst he punched at the air in front of him. Something had changed; school-age Sundance couldn't have done this. Not without looking like a total dork. He thought of the scars that ran the length of his body, going from neck to rump. Had hard living changed him? 

Maybe this would be easy. 

He might just be ready. 

It was easy and pleasant to marvel at his newfound physicality. Why, he even managed to balance himself on one hoof; his left rear hoof, and he did so for several long seconds. Which, given the circumstances, he felt was impressive. His confidence, like a pegasus in flight, soared. He was about to box Megara right in her booger holes and maybe, just maybe, luck would favour him and he'd give her a good surprise. Oh, he doubted he could hurt her; optimistic as he was, he was still a realist. But perhaps she'd compliment his good effort and that'd be fantastic. 

Feeling lighter than air, Sundance began to bounce around on two legs. 

It was as if joy gave him buoyancy. 

"You have belly speckles," Megara said to Sundance while he bounced about. 

"Do you like them?" he asked. 

"They're kinda cute," she replied. 

This brief exchange left Sundance overwhelmed with irrational exuberance, as evidenced by the way his lips parted to reveal his teeth. Which was entirely different than how Megara revealed her teeth. A lot less nightmarish and a lot more friendly. Sundance had the sort of smile that begged to be shown off, while Megara's smile belonged in a damp, dank, dark cave. Yet, it said much for Sundance's character that he liked Megara's smile, and that seeing it made him happy. 

It was a sad, sad fact of life that the universe made such fools suffer. 

"I was always sort of embarrassed about them," Sundance said whilst he bounced from one leg to another. "Got teased about them in school. Now, they're just there and I do my best to not think about them." 

"You really are a lippy pegasus," Megara said in response. "You were so quiet when we first met. Now this. Alright… down to business. Let's be like lovers and hurt each other." 

"I don't want to hurt you—"

"That's hilarious, because I want to hurt you!" 

Upon hearing these words, Sundance swallowed so hard that he was certain the sound could be heard echoing to and fro. Still, his sunny optimism endured, as did his smile, his exuberant buoyancy, and his compulsion to boink and bounce about. Well then… he was about to intentionally cause harm to another thinking, feeling creature. How was he supposed to feel about that? He had no time to pause, to sort this out, no precious seconds to spend to seek out understanding. 

Front hooves at the ready, he surged forwards. First he boinked to the left, then bounced to the right, and immediately after what he was certain was a dazzling display of speed and grace, he launched what he believed was a haymaker at Megara's nose, just as instructed. His hoof never landed though, no. One of her massive paws shot out, wrapped around his foreleg, gripped him, and then a great many awful things happened all at once. 

Sundance found himself up in the air. 

Round and round he went, whooshing about in circles, all while the horizon tilted like a jilted lover. The force was such that he felt his cheeks sliding down his jaw, and his eyelids too. Things were blue, then green, then blue, then green again, and this continued until everything was a blue-green-blue smear burned into the backs of his eyeballs. Mid-whirl, he was whipped like a wet towel, and this was done with enough force that his tail cracked like a whip. While his senses tried to inform him of his imminent demise, and made a valiant effort to sort out what exactly was going on, he was slammed into the ground before they could reach any sort of meaningful conclusion. 

How long he lay there upon the indifferent ground was unknown. A long very long time though. Sundance existed in a different universe now, a cruel universe where all of his bones had been stolen and replaced with white-hot metal. Yes, he was utterly boneless—a boneless pegasus—and his internal framework was now made out of solid pain. Breathing was out of the question, so he did his best to exist without oxygen. 

Nothing in his life prepared him for this moment. This revelation. The metaphorical clouds parted and the light of truth burned down upon Sundance. He was not a tough pony, nor would he ever be. A hero of myth and legend he was not, for they were made of sterner stuff. A part of him wanted to puke, but that required breathing, and movement, and rather a lot of effort that Sundance feared that he was ill-prepared to put forth at the moment. 

Perhaps if he didn't move, and didn't breathe, he would die and this would be over. 

But such a merciful end was denied to him, and his body callously betrayed him with a traitorous attempt to inflate his lungs. This botched rebellion went poorly; his lungs did not fill with lovely air, but cruel fire and wicked heat. Something bumped him and several seconds later he realised that his legs were flailing about. 

"OooOoo-OooOoo!" he OooOoo-OooOooed, emphasising the emphasis of the OooOoo-OooOooiness of the situation with a fair bit of generous extra Ooo. As it turned out, he had Ooo to spare, and a lifetime's worth of pent-up OooOoo-OooOoo escaped from him in a prolonged groan. At the end, he punctuated his outburst with: "Oooooo-oo-oo!" 

A succinct end if ever there was one. 

"Sundance… Sundance, say something!" 

Corduroy's voice was harsh with worry and Sundance struggled to regain his senses. 

"Sundance?" 

He saw the blurred, indistinct form of Corduroy's face just above him. 

"Can you talk?" 

Much to Sundance's immense relief, he found that he could, in fact, draw in air and form a basic sentence. To Corduroy, he said, "OW! My giblets! My giblets, my giblets, my precious precious giblets!"

Then, he heard Megara ask, "Which giblets?" 

To which he replied, "All of them, I think!"

Above him, he heard Corduroy say, "Please point to the giblet you believe was injured." 

"All my pegasus giblets." A wheeze. "All of them." Another wheeze. "All of me. All my bones are gone." 

"Mmm." The sound that Corduroy made was one of distinct worry. 

"She told me to hit her… why'd she do that to me, Corduroy?" 

"That's your first lesson," Megara said to Sundance, cutting in before Corduroy could respond. "Sometimes, your enemy will give you an easy opening. It will appear as though their guard is down. This is an invitation to disaster. My father taught me this… he told me it was the hardest lesson to learn. I thought we'd get the hardest part out of the way first." 

"So very kind of you," Sundance groaned as his limbs continued to flail. "Ow, my giblets. Ow, my everything. Ooo-ooo-ooo-wee-ooo." Teeth clenched, he hissed and winced as the different regions of his body continued to send in damage reports. 

"He's not cut out for this." 

The sound of River Raider's voice cut deep and Sundance felt a new pain, though he could not discern its location. Somehow, he managed to roll over onto his side, and then he had no choice but to go still because his vision was now full of stars. Gasping, he lay there on his side, trying to manage his pain, and wanting to tell River Raider that she was wrong. But that was impossible. Even worse, a part of him suggested that she was right—he wasn't cut out for this. 

"River?" 

"Meg, he's a pencil pusher. A desk jockey. Look at him. He can't get up. His brain is completely scrambled. We've barely even started, and he's already finished. He can't take another lesson. Not today, and probably not tomorrow." 

Defeated, he lay in the dirt, pondering these awful words. Worse, he couldn't stand up to dispute them. Even if he made a heroic effort to stand, he knew that he would fail. Somehow, this hurt worse than everything that had just happened. He rather felt like crying—yes, this hurt him that much—but he held back the tears and his angry outburst. There was no point in bellyaching. He would have to recover, however long that took, and then try again. 

Knowing that River Raider could hear his thoughts, he broadcasted his determination, all of it, as much as he could muster. Nothing happened. There was no response. Not even an itch in his brain. While he knew for certain that she had to sense his thoughts, he could not sense a response from her. No words were said. He would have to show her, it seemed—but a part of him doubted that he could. The effort would be made though, because he owed the world the best possible version of himself. Even if he failed, he would give it his all. 

What else could he do? 

Then, he heard River Raider say, "Get him up, Corduroy. He's miserable and spiraling into bleakness." 

"Sundance, I'm going to pick you up. It's probably going to hurt. Let me lift you. Try not to squirm." 

"Go for it," he wheezed. 

"Meg…" 

"Yes, River?" 

"I kinda want to rip your face off right now." 

"I hurt your friend and you're angry. This I understand. If you want a go at me, feel free. Won't hold it against you." 

"I don't have friends," River Raider retorted. 

"I think you're wrong," Megara replied. 

"I'm going to go and cool off before I do something rash." 

Worried, frightened even, Sundance felt Corduroy's paw slip beneath him as she stooped over to pick him up. 
> What sort of ruler gives out fetch quests?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Water alone had the tender touch to cradle Sundance's pain-wracked body. He floated in the waterfall basin, bobbing near the edge. On his back, wings somewhat extended, he did what appeared to be his best dead duck impression. Corduroy assured him that nothing was broken, but things felt rather bent. Even with all of his pain, he felt rather proud of himself, as if he'd accomplished some great thing. A manticore had beaten him, which he felt involved some manner of bragging rights. 

A few owls—eternally sleepy and curious creatures, always asking who, but never what, when, where, or why—perched around the basin, seeking shady places so that they might escape the tyranny of the sun. Like his faithful owls, Sundance was now a wise creature. Pain had shown him much of the true nature of the world, and he suffered greatly from some kind of post body slam enlightenment. 

The soft rumble of falling water lulled Sundance into a welcomed state of near sleep, where daydreams were especially vivid. Lucid visions of goodness, of fairness, of kindness, and of adequacy paraded past his mind's eye. He was in far too much pain to have anything but the most humble of aspirations. What he wanted right now was not a sandwich, nor a cup of tea, or even a dish of ice cream, which would be fantastic. No, Sundance wanted to be in love. As he bobbed in the water, drifting between painful consciousness and the blissful euphoria of daydreams, his thoughts were on that of love. Somepony that could comfort him during moments just like this one. Somepony that was thoughtful and kind as Corduroy—but also as ferocious and capable as Megara. 

He had to find somepony that checked off every need on the checklist. 

Which was, for all intents and purposes, a task even more outlandish and far fetched than him becoming a warrior. If he were merely adequate, his potential mate would have to strive towards greatness. He wasn't sure why this was, but it made sense on some level, even if he didn't fully understand it. Or maybe his mind was scrambled, or possibly concussed. He didn't recall hitting his head—Megara was, in hindsight, shockingly careful with how she'd broken him into two and smashed all of his giblets. He was remarkably whole of body—just exceedingly sore and stiff—with bruised giblets which might never recover. 

"Dragon!" 

Sundance's eyelids fluttered open like drunken, semi-conscious butterflies buffeted by a hurricane. 

"Dragon! There's a dragon!" 

Bruised giblets prevented rash action and Sundance lay very still, unwilling to move. 

"A dragon flies near! Get indoors, everypony!" 

"Dragon! Dragon! Get underground!" 

While Sundance heard the sound of panic, what he didn't hear was the sound of destruction. Of course, he had no experience in this sort of thing, but movies taught him that dragon destruction was immensely loud. Lots of roaring and whooshing and crackling and exploding, all accompanied by crunchy, distorted, riffing guitars and powerful drums, none of which he heard. The soundtrack was all wrong for a dragon attack; everything was too pastoral, with birds chirping, bugs buzzing, and the soothing dull roar of falling water. 

He decided that he would just continue to float in the water and wait this out. 

"Dragon!" 

There were no sounds of Megara preparing for battle, no roars of challenge, not much of anything. Lots of shouting about dragons and the stampede of hooves. Oh, this would be exciting, no doubt. A dragon had come to visit. Maybe it wanted a favour, or perhaps it was a neighbor who came to borrow a cup of sugar. Did dragons need sugar? They might. It was best to be neighborly, because one wanted dragons to be good neighbors. While Sundance wanted to do the right thing, getting out of the water was out of the question. 

"Big blue dragon! Big blue dragon! Get into the barn cave at once!" 



 

"Milord, Prince Blueblood is here to see you," Earwig sheepishly said. 

Sundance, who expected a dragon, was both relieved and disappointed to hear that Prince Blueblood had come to pay a visit. There was still the matter of the dragon, for surely Blueblood could not be mistaken for a drake. No effort was made to rise and greet his guest. Sundance didn't even open his eyes, for the sunlight would be all glinty and sear his retinas, as it had just done not that long ago when somepony cried, "Dragon!" 

"What's this about a dragon?" Sundance demanded. 

"You are almost as aloof as your great grandmother," replied Prince Blueblood. 

"Megara the Lioness schooled me this morning," Sundance said, and he wondered just how much of this he should explain. 

"Oh… oh goodness, you poor fellow." Prince Blueblood's words were heartfelt and sincere. "Well, not to worry. I'm here to meet with Argyle." 

"Again… dragon," Sundance said, wanting answers. 

"Oh, that… a rowdy adolescent. He wanted to scare travelers and passersby, he defaced public property, vandalised statues, placed mustaches where they do not belong, the usual gamut of hooliganism. Now he is serving community service. He carried my gondola out this way." 

"Community service after a spree of hooliganism?" A frown wrinkled Sundance's face and he suspected that the evils of coffee were made manifest. 

"He has rich parents. Influential. What can one do?" Blueblood's cultured voice held a hint of wry sarcasm. 

"Make the parents also perform community service with their bratty son."

"You know, Sundance… you really are like your great grandmother. So, where is Argyle? It is of the utmost importance that I speak with him. Much needs to be done." 

"I have no idea where he is. Look around." 

"Oh, bother and blast." 

"Getting out of this pool would require effort… and you… you're not worth it, Blueblood. Offense fully intended. You spooked my peasants. I'm tempted to assign you to community service for that stunt."  

There was a brief harrumph, followed by, "There is so much of Celestia in you. It's disturbing, really. Very well, I shall take my leave and find Argyle myself. Good luck with your lessons.  I hope you survive her tyrannical tutelage. Megara is not a kindly instructor." 

"So I've noticed," Sundance replied. "The parents really need to see what sort of hooliganism their son is up to. Otherwise, it's just stories to them. Stories are easy to dismiss." 

"That is wise," Prince Blueblood replied. "Come, Summer Squash. We must find Twilight's new Regional Governor so that we might ruin his life." 

"Before we go," Summer Squash said, "there is the matter of the dead—" 

"Oh yes… that. That gruesome assignment. Thank you, Summer Squash." 

When Sundance heard Blueblood inhale, every muscle tensed in dreadful anticipation. 

"Princess Celestia requested that I ask you a favour," Blueblood began. "A rather delicate issue. You see… our large coastal cities are experiencing… hmm… how shall I put this? Outbreaks… yes, outbreaks of the undead and—" 

"Grogar's agents are sowing terror and dread," Summer Squash said, interrupting and taking over. "Vile necromancers are breaking into morgues and reviving the undead, which are then released to terrorise the citizenry. We're attempting to deal with this quietly and efficiently. Without causing a public panic—" 

"It's a bit late for that," Blueblood remarked. 

"—and we're short on options. Prince Gosling suggested that we get the freshly dead, the revivable dead, out of the city and to a more secure location for processing and burial." 

"And you want to bring them here?" asked Sundance. 

"It was Princess Celestia's idea. This place is isolated. Remote. You will, of course, be paid handsomely for your assistance." 

It was a struggle for Sundance to get his brain working. A prickle of fear left his dock full of tingles, but fear was the last thing he needed right now. What he needed was a clear mind. Eyes closed, he controlled his breathing, and tried to ignore the fog of pain that dulled his senses. Maybe a word with Sumac was needed, his opinions and advice would be useful. No doubt, Princess Celestia just expected him to say yes—but that seemed like a poor idea. 

"The big cities, with police, and security, and morgues… can't keep necromancers out. They're breaking in, reviving the dead, and doing gross, disgusting things. And you… you want me to put me and mine at risk by having the dead interred here? What if necromancers come out my way? I have no means to deal with such problems, and I don't think my barony is ready for an outbreak of zombies so—" 

"It's not at all like the zombies you see in movies," Summer Squash said. 

"But still zombies." Folding his forelegs over his barrel, Sundance drew in a deep breath to calm his nerves. "If every major city in Equestria began shipping their dead here for processing and burial, that's a lot of corpses. A lot of corpses. Like, more than I can imagine. If just one of these vile necromancers got out this way, that'd be nightmarish. We'd be up to our wingpits in zombies." 

"So your answer is—" 

"No, Blueblood. My answer is no. Do not test my patience and ask again." 

"Very well. I acquiesce to your response and will inform Princess Celestia of your decision upon my return home." After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Blueblood added, "Once again, you remind me of your great grandmother. Be well, Sundance. And I wish you a speedy recovery. Come, Summer Squash, we have much to do." 



 

Even though the dull ache in his body blunted his sense of joy, Sundance found himself in quite a mood. He'd taken his first step on the grand path of becoming a warrior. A trial of pain. Thus far, he endured, but he suspected that things would get far worse. This was no bleak outlook, no. He considered this honest acceptance, and in doing so, the hard journey ahead seemed a little easier. This was meaning. He sought out purpose. No longer content with day to day existence, he wanted something better—and would have it. Eventually. With lots of hard work. 

Already, he had fantasies of being a great warrior. 

Or, if not a great warrior, an adequate warrior. 

Adequacy was good; he could be happy with adequacy. 

The warmth of the tea blossomed through the tense, tight ache in his jaw and neck. His recovery, while slow, progressed through its various painful stages, loosening taut muscles as it went. River Raider had mentioned something about the endurance of pegasus ponies, and he wished that he'd paid more attention, because now he could not recall exactly what she had said. After a prolonged sigh, he slurped his tea, but did not swallow. Instead, he swished the hot liquid around the inside of his mouth so that the soothing heat could spread through his head. Then, when the ache subsided a bit, he swallowed, thankful for the momentary rush of sweet relief. 

"Sundance?" 

It was Hoppy; she was apprehensive. 

He looked at her, but offered no words. 

"I'll take that job you offered. But on one condition. Granny and I share the position. She's better suited for the job than I am. Granny already has plans and I think that she'll spring them on you when she's ready. We just need time." 

"Good," he replied with a soft nod. "Good." 

"Can't stay," Hoppy said to him. "I promised that I would teach a class today. Puddle Jumper was very insistent that I share what I know. Says it is vital to the future growth of our most precious assets." 

This was also good; he approved of this. "Go and teach. Also, thank you." 

"You're welcome, Sundance. You feeling alright?" 

"Just stiff." Every muscle tensed when he thought about these words and what they could mean. Somewhat flustered, he added, "A bit sore. I'll be fine." 

"You got body slammed. Everypony covered their muzzles and made an 'ooo' sound when it happened. I think we all felt it." 

"I must've missed that," he said, almost murmuring. 

"Wort is obsessed with Megara. He thinks she's great. She's so gentle with him. I must admit, I'm kind of surprised. And scared. Mostly scared. But I've let him play with her because it's good for him. At least, I think it is. But it scares me. A lot. I mean, mom-stuff. I'm conflicted because I want to protect him, but if I protect him too much I could turn him into a bigot. Or something. Look, I don't know where I am going with this. He has a griffon granny. But I am aware that I could be the problem, if I let myself. I'm babbling, aren't I?" 

As was so often the case, Sundance thought of his own mother. 

"I don't want to teach him to be afraid of things that are different, but I have to do my job as his mom and keep him safe from things that are different and can do him harm. How do I teach him the difference? Wait… don't answer. I have to go and teach class. And then maybe have a break down. After that, I'll pull myself together." 

"If you need to talk, I'll listen," Sundance offered. "I'm still sorting out my own feelings. But we can sort things out together." 

"I'd like that." Hoppy's words had a sincere warmth that was every bit as soothing as the tea. "Take it easy, Sundance." Then, without further ado, she departed with a swish of her fluffy tail. 

She wasn't gone from the dining hall for more than a few minutes when Megara squeezed through the door, and a small, slight pony trailed just behind her. Alas, Megara simply did not fit into equine-sized structures, and Sundance knew that some of his other residents would also face some troubles when they grew, like Mighty the minotaur maid. It was just another issue to be dealt with—hopefully sooner rather than later. 

"I've found us another warrior," Megara said, grinning from tusk to tusk. 

With a turn of his head, Sundance focused on the small pony that now stood beside Megara. A little pegasus with baskets on her sides. Only he knew this was no pegasus. He didn't know her, but it seemed obvious that she lived here if Megara found her. Obviously, this was one of his resident changelings. He wondered if he should be concerned that Megara was recruiting, but this was a matter of necessity. Then again, it was his job to keep the changelings safe, and having one serve the barony as a warrior would put them into danger. A direct violation of his promise. 

"No," he said as his gaze dropped down into his teacup. 

"Hey… what's the big idea? No?" Megara sat down near the table, leaned in close, and her whiskers quivered with indignation. "I'm gonna give you a few minutes to rethink that, friendo." 

"I am sworn to keep them safe," he said, as if this explained everything. 

"So says the brilliant mind that is putting himself into harm's way to protect his holdings." 

Pausing, Sundance considered these words, and the not-so-subtle bite behind them. 

"You are risking all you have and all that Twilight has planned by galavanting around your barony in search of danger," Megara said. "I found a volunteer. She wants to fight. To defend her home. Her desire to do right has caused a bit of a tussle with her own kind. She's risking a lot to do right and the least you can do is hear her out." 

"No," Sundance said, repeating himself. 

"Are we really gonna do this the hard way?" asked Megara. 

"There's a hard way?" Sundance replied, now concerned. 

"Oh yes… there's a hard way. Where I pound you into putty—" 

"I think you had that planned anyway." 

"Oh, I did… but if you say no a third time, I'll be able to do it without a shred of guilt." 

Sundance swallowed, but not his tea. It was a dry swallow, painful, and he made a note of how to talk to others with maximum effectiveness. The manticore was a creature of raw intimidation; terror with a twitchy nose, big sharp pointy teeth, and cactus-bristle whiskers. Beside Megara, the changeling-in-pony-form waited patiently, her eyes eager, her ears pricked at attention. It was all an illusion, but what a convincing one. 

"Tell Sundance about yourself, Hornet." 

"Ummm," she ummmed as she shifted from side to side. Something about the sound was vaguely insectoid, a sort of humming near-buzz. "I'm a drone, but not a drone. I don't know what I am. Simulacra and Simulation say I am an anomaly. But they say it in a very kind way. I have the body of a drone… a worker. But I have the armor and the carapace of a warrior. But we're not supposed to be warriors. We're supposed to be peaceful. That is our new shared purpose. But I…" her words trailed off into a soft, faint buzz. 

"She can't change her nature," Megara said. "They might have tinkered with the changelings, but I don't think you can change certain fundamental aspects. She is what she is. Simulacra and Simulation are really unhappy with what I've done, but I'm confident that I've done the right thing. You need a bodyguard, Sundance, and I think we've found you one." 

This got his attention almost right away. "A bodyguard?" 

"Well, if you go off into some alicorn-forsaken asylum again, it'll be good to have backup." Megara rested one broad paw upon the table and then leaned in closer. "She named herself Hornet. I see it as an acknowledgment of what exists inside. She's not like the others, Sundance. Give her a chance to explore whatever she is. Whatever she was meant to be. Let her blossom." 

"I… well…" He reconsidered and did not say no. 

But saying yes felt wrong; a violation of his promise. 

"We can't repress or hide away what we are… but we can try to do good with it. I'm proof of that." Leaning in a little closer, Megara's hot breath now caused Sundance's forelock to sway. "In another time, in another life, Hornet would have been a very different 'ling. Now she's expected to suppress that for the sake of conformity. Don't do that to her." 

"What can you do, Hornet?" asked Sundance. 

"I have a variety of alchemical spits," she replied. "Some of them are quite dangerous and toxic. I am also a healer—" 

"A healer?" This got Sundance's attention. 

"All changelings are healers, to some degree. We have powerful coagulants and compounds to close wounds. I also have anti-coagulants, and this makes others unhappy with me. Certain traits are… undesirable now." 

"She can fly and do magic," Megara said. 

Hearing this statement of the obvious, Sundance nodded. 

"I am well armored," Hornet continued, and she fluttered her feathered wings nervously. "My armor makes me ugly. I am grotesque and malformed. I know what the others think, even if they try to hide it from me. We are of one mind and so we know. I am too much like how we used to be, and seeing me is a reminder of that. It is painful, for some." 

"Which is why she was out picking berries and foraging," Megara said, her words a low rumble that made the wooden table vibrate. "Come on, Sundance. Do the right thing. Think of this as salvage. We can make this work for our purposes. You and I… we can prove the others wrong and show them that some of what they once were is still valuable. Still good. And in doing so, we can save Hornet." 

"Hornet"—his speech was slow, patient, and calm—"do you need saving? Meg seems to think that you do."

The not-pegasus shrugged her wings. "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I've been very confused for a long time. Long before we left the lab. Long before we left the sanctuary. I keep asking about what makes a 'ling a 'ling, and nobuggy has answers for me. I was told that I was part of a problem that would be fixed in time." 

Heaving a heavy sigh, Sundance thought of River Raider—another that did not quite fit into the standards imposed upon her species. Thoughtful, he stared down into the depths of his teacup, as if answers might be found beneath the pale brown surface of the liquid therein. River Raider still had a purpose to serve—and so did Hornet. He was sure of that. His own purpose was to give others life, and life was purpose. Meaning. 

"You aren't part of a problem," he said, almost hesitating. "Hornet, you are part of a solution. I'm just not sure what that is just yet. You were out foraging?" 

"I am skilled at finding sugary berries," she replied, almost beaming. 

"Sugary berries?" A flood of saliva almost broke free from Sundance's mouth when he thought about sweet, delicious berries. An idea blinked into existence. A brilliant, wonderful idea. Certainly a better idea than him becoming a warrior and having the stuffing body slammed out of him. Turning to Megara, he asked, "Just how did you find Hornet and find all of this out?" 

"A girl must keep some of her mystery," Megara replied as she slipped a foreleg over the tiny not-pegasus beside her and pulled her close. 

"If you bring me two full baskets of raspberries, I'll—" 

"A fetch quest?" A low growl punctuated Megara's rumbled words. "Really? Seriously? A fetch quest?" 

Baffled, Sundance asked, "What'd I do?" 

"Sending a prospective adventurer on a fetch quest is dirty pool!" 

"What?" He repeated himself: "What?" 

"What's next? Are you going to send her to kill rats in the cellars?" 

"Do we have rats in the cellars? If we do, I should send somebody—" 

"Oh, that cuts it." The tremendous manticore spawn rolled her eyes whilst her whiskers quivered. 

"I don't even know what I did wrong," Sundance blurted out. "I don't know what I am doing wr—" 

"Oh, it's obvious you don't know what you're doing," Megara said, huffing out the words. "I suppose it falls on me to fix that." 

"I just wanted some berries." Eyes sad, ears back in the most submissive pose he could muster, he did his best to look as small and meek as possible. 

Megara glared at him, disgust on her face, her eyes fiery and narrow. "Pathetic. At least stand up for yourself. Come on, show some backbone. A bit of spine." 

"I think you smooshed it," he said to her with the hopes that she might feel at least a little guilty. "You told me to hit you in the face and then you destroyed me." 

"You're going to send this poor 'ling off into the dangerous wilderness to find you some berries—" 

"To be fair," Sundance said, interrupting, "she was already doing that anyway. If you're worried about her safety, you should go with her and—" 

"Did you just try to send me on an escort mission?" Blinking, Megara drew herself up to her full height and looked down her muzzle at Sundance. 

"Um… I guess I just did something else wrong?" he asked.

Then, after a moment of intense worry, it occurred to him that Megara might be yanking his chain, so to speak. Getting his goat. He wondered where that expression came from, and then felt some concern for his own goats. The trouble with all of this, as he saw it, was that he couldn't tell if Megara was joking. If she were having a go at him. Was she testing him? Plumbing the depths of his resolve? Did his mettle come up short? 

Before Megara could say anything else, Sundance said to Hornet, "Two baskets of berries. Not to prove your worth, because I believe you are worthy. Truth is, I'm miserable, and the cranky manticore made me that way. She'll probably make you that way as well. I'm certain she has nefarious plans for both of us. But if you bring me back two baskets of raspberries, we'll talk. I do, in fact, need a bodyguard. That's a good idea. And a bodyguard that can also be my body-double is probably a fantastic idea. We'll take whatever abuse Megara plans to dish out together." 

Mollified, the manticore let out a low, rumbling growl. 

Meanwhile, Hornet nodded. Flickers of green witchfire danced around her body, but her appearance held. "I'll bring back fresh snow as well, because cold raspberries are the best raspberries." 

Drooling far too much to respond, Sundance dared to glance up at Megara to see if she approved. It seemed that she did. She was still frowning, but something about her demeanour had changed somewhat. In this moment, Sundance saw Megara as a dour teacher who expected more, but was still pleased to get results. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. It might just be his optimism bubbling up to the surface. 

Then, once more, Sundance had an idea. He had a brilliant idea. An idea that might just redeem him. There was snow and ice up there on the jagged peaks. It stayed frozen year round. Snow and ice could be used to make ice cream—he was sure of it—and ice cream would be an amazing treat to beat the summer heat. 

Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself so that he might explain his brilliant plan… 
> How we treat the help
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was nothing more satisfying than the sweetness of the slushy treat. It wasn't quite ice cream—in fact, it wasn't even close—but it was cold, shiver-inducing, and delicious. Megara and Hornet had outdone themselves and all who lived in the barony were better off for it. A chunk of glacial ice and a whole mess of all manner of wild berries made for a pleasant treat that beat the summer heat. Lips numb, a hint of brain freeze pounding between his temples, Sundance wished that his wooden bowl wasn't empty—but such was the way of things. 

"You know, Sundance… I think there's a chance that Hornet is more loved than you are." 

Turning his head, a broad smile spreading across his muzzle, Sundance responded to Megara with the following: "That's fine. As the baron, I can't expect everypony to be in love with me all the time. Hornet deserves her moment in the sun." 

"You actually do feel that way." Reaching out, Megara draped her broad, heavy paw across Sundance's scarred withers. "I suppose stuff like this is a bit more special when you don't have regular access to it. From the looks of things, the old timers are enjoying themselves." 

Sundance nodded in agreement. "I think they are." 

"And you, my little ladybug… you seem almost drunk," Megara said to the small not-pegasus beside her. 

"I am," Hornet replied as flickers of green witchfire danced along her extremities. 

"I think," Megara began, her words slow and measured, "that if you guard Sundance and prove yourself a capable protector, you'll never need to worry about love ever again. Of course, to be able to do your job, you'll need to be closer to Sundance. Which means living here. You must make it your business to stick to him like glue, so he can't fly off alone. Unprotected. He's the careless, reckless sort, so you have to compensate for that. Be watchful, my sweet little ladybug." 

"That seems reasonable," the disguised changeling replied. 

Sundance wasn't so sure, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He didn't want Hornet separated from her kind—though it was her choice. Megara was right. If she were miles away, she couldn't do her job. The barony had three soldiers now. Sort of. While he felt accomplished, he also felt out of sorts because of the risks involved. His brain corrected him, suggesting that the barony had one soldier—River Raider—and two in training. Soldiers? Were they soldiers? Doubtful, he wasn't sure, and asking would be far too embarrassing. 

"Tomorrow we're going to go hunting for trouble," Megara announced. "Prepare for battle." 

"Um…" Jolted from his thoughts, Sundance grew quite alarmed by this statement that he'd just heard. "What about training? Uh, aren't we putting the cart before the pony?" 

"Nah." Lifting her paw away from Sundance's withers, Megara made a dismissive wave. "We'll learn by doing. Besides, I'll be there to save your skins if something goes wrong." 

"I have chitin," Hornet said. "I have the thickest chitin of any 'ling I know. Skin seems like such a weakness." 

"Well, I have skin, and I am worried about it. Right now, it is still pretty tender. All of it." Sundance took a moment to study Megara's face but he found no evidence that she was joking. "Shouldn't the second lesson be something a bit more reasonable?" 

"Whatever happens, we'll learn from it. We could use a bit of teamwork training. And trust exercise would be good." The manticore spawn turned her head once more to look Sundance in the eye. "You… you have a glass jaw, but worse. But we're going to play to your strengths. River Raider tells me that you're a thrower." 

"But I barely know how," Sundance said with a shake of his head. "I've thrown a couple of javelins at a stump and River had to tell me what I was doing wrong."

"There's no better time to learn," Megara replied, her eyes gleaming with manic intensity. "I think that at some point I might go back to Lulamoon Hollow and get you a shield. Something light. Nothing too heavy. Not sure if you could take a hit even with a shield, but we'll see. But shields are great places to store a few javelins, if nothing else. I'm thinking that we play to our strengths and exercise some air superiourity." 

"So that's it then." Sundance tried to swallow the lump in his throat, and found that it was impossible. "We just go flying off to look for trouble and we pick a fight." 

"Yeah, that's the plan. Sorta. Only not so random. We'll check a bounty board and see what's up. There's bound to be trouble… and bounties. A baron seeking bounties would be a good public image to have. I'm pretty sure that Twilight would approve. And if she doesn't, she can blow it right out of her princessly poot-chute." 

"Alright." Sundance almost squeaked his reply and then he forced out a nervous chuckle. 

"Relax. Things'll be fine, Sundance." 

"Sure. Sure they will." 

Laughter and chortles from around the dining hall caused Sundance's ears to prick. Ponies weren't laughing at him—which was good. He heard several mentions of 'princessly poot-chute' from both the young and the old, and then, after a deep breath, he tried to relax his own poot-chute. Quite without meaning to do so, he laughed—for real this time—and with laughter came some much-needed relief. 

"My job is to teach you how to fight," Megara said to him, her voice stern and hard. "I can't do that if you're dead. So you need to trust me that I can do my job… and part of that job is keeping you alive so you can learn your lessons. There are risks, yes. But I manage risks. That's what I do. So… get yourself sorted out. Go to bed early. Be well rested. Tomorrow, we're going hunting. It might be a long day. We'll see. You're bound to be sore and not at your best. That's a lesson for you to learn. Sometimes, when going out into the field, you do so with less-than-perfect conditions." 

Like a colt in a classroom, Sundance offered up a dutiful, attentive nod. 

"Hornet, your job is to stick to him like glue. Use that shield spell that you showed me. So long as the both of you stick together, you'll be fine. River Raider and I will run interference and keep ourselves between the two of you and the danger. Whatever the danger might be. That's the plan. For right now, you just bask in all the love that you so rightfully deserve, because I want you fully charged for tomorrow." 

"I feel giddy," Hornet replied. 

Sundance felt something other than giddy… but he kept his feelings to himself. 



 

Prince Blueblood cut a magnificent figure in the golden hues of late afternoon. Near to him, Summer Squash, his faithful assistant, squinted in the direction of Canterlot. A somewhat defeated looking Argyle moped a bit, but it was stern moping, and not pitiful moping. Whatever exchange that had taken place must have been exhausting, because both Prince Blueblood and Argyle Ascot had a certain sense of tiredness about them. 

Sundance could sympathise with Argyle. 

"Equestria's nobility seems to be a caste of public servitude with terrible pay and lousy hours." Argyle shook his head and his tail at the same time, but in opposite directions of one another. "This isn't what I expected. Honestly, I don't know what I expected. I don't know if I should be honoured… or insulted." 

"Oh, you have no idea," Prince Blueblood replied, his voice full of sympathy rather than sarcasm. "If you show even an iota of competence, you will be buried in work. Such is the way of things. Somepony has to do the job, and if not us, then who?" 

That was a good question, or so Sundance thought. If not him, then who? Who else would take over the barony? It made him wonder about his own motivations. His grandmother was buried here now, so he had to keep going. He was anchored. A great many thoughts flitted through his mind, like migrating hummingbirds in search of sweetness. 

"It is good that the two of you will be working together. Twilight loses a lot of sleep over Project Freequestria. Why, I do believe it has consumed her life. The scope and scale of this project is baffling. Mind-boggling. Auntie Celestia once worked on projects of this scale. You're standing in the middle of it. A thousand years from now, who knows how Twilight's projects will have worked out." Turning about, Blueblood revealed a wry, lopsided grin. 

Suddenly and without warning, Summer Squash sneezed; her face exploded. 

"Lifetime appointments are so much better for everypony long-term," Blueblood continued. "It builds a wealth of experience. You end up with seasoned workers that know what they are doing. They know how to get the job done." 

"That's also how you end up with stagnation," Argyle said, almost spitting out the words. "It's how we end up with autocrats and bureaucrats that gum up the system and cause stagnation." 

"Need I bring up the shortcomings of Fillydelphia's democracy and its many failures?" 

There was a tense moment where it seemed as though Argyle was impossibly angry with Blueblood. Sundance wasn't sure what might happen, but the air fairly crackled with tension. There was an awful sound; a terrible, horrible sound, and after several moments of listening with intently pricked ears, Sundance realised it was Argyle grinding his teeth. When at last the awful grinding ceased, Sundance shuddered with relief, thankful that the wretched sound was no more. 

"Can we not fight?" asked Sundance. "There's enough of that going on that we don't need it here. I don't want it here." 

Bowing his head somewhat, Prince Blueblood replied, "Very well." 

"Thank you." Sundance too, bowed his head, and did his best to appear sincerely grateful. "There's advantages to both. Isn't that what Twilight is trying to do? Find the middle ground? We have the old ways of feudalism and the new modern stuff—whatever that is. I don't know the names. Maybe something in the middle works. Isn't that why we're doing what we're doing?" 

"Spoken like a true diplomat." Sniffling a bit, and blinking her watery eyes, Summer Squash now faced Sundance. "Just think, Blueblood is supposed to be the diplomat—" 

"That's quite enough, Watcher Summer Squash. Thank you for your input." 

"Oh, I was just getting started—" 

"Of that I am aware," Blueblood hastily mentioned, again interrupting his companion. 

Once more, Summer Squash's face exploded, and then did so three more times, rapid fire. The fourth blast launched multiple bolos of mucus, which covered the grass with a glistening sheen that glittered like diamonds in the sunlight. Argyle stepped back, as did Sundance. Meanwhile, Blueblood was utterly unphased, as if he'd seen this a million times, and perhaps he had. An expression of bare sympathy crept over his face as he regarded his assistant, and then, shaking his head from side to side, he muttered something unheard by the others present beneath his breath. 

"I find myself in a strange place," Argyle muttered, his ears splayed sideways. "A place I fully expected to be… but not a place that I wanted to be. Everything is still too complicated to sort out my feelings on the issue. This is not the outcome I wanted. This is not how I expected my life to be. My sense of duty compels me to keep going… but everything else in my head tells me to get out now before it is too late. This is not a place I wanted to be." 

"Mister Ascot… or should I address you as Governor Ascot? Lord Governor Ascot?" Shaking his head from side to side, Blueblood grunted and clucked his tongue three times. "There's still some details to sort out. Argyle… if I may… most of us who end up where we are don't want to be here at first. Perhaps that is what makes us different. There are those who strive to entrench themselves in the upper echelons of society. Some do good, some do bad. 

"But… there are others… we end up here. This is thrust upon us. For whatever reason. By whatever circumstance. We don't necessarily want this power, but for whatever reason, we do not walk away when offered. Is it fate? Destiny? Circumstance? All chance and happenstance? Twilight was never asked; she was made a princess. A plethora of predicaments demanded that something be done, and something was done." 

Head high, Prince Blueblood cleared his throat before he continued, "We should all strive to live by her example. Sundance here showed competence and a certain sense of charm. Gosling had valuable insights into the nature of the inner-city and poverty that Princess Celestia was completely blind to. Dim has seen the world beyond Equestria and after his tour of the world, he has wisdom that the rest of us lack. 

"As for you, Argyle… you have the right talent. A rare talent. Valuable. A treasure. And you have two very smart wives, also with exceptional talents. They will be put to use. You will gain a lifetime's worth of experience putting them to good use. Equestria will be better for having you as a servant… because that is really what this is. Servitude. Some of us are born to rule… while others… others are born to serve. Rulers come and go. Sometimes they are useful and society benefits. Occasionally, we elect them, or they come into power through some means. Sometimes, they crash our economy and leave our great nation on the brink of total collapse.

"But servants are appointed. More often than not, we are treated like the hired help that we are. Hated. Spat upon. Ridiculed. You're expected to clean up the mess and then just fade into the background without a word of thanks. This… this is what awaits you. Not a life of privilege, but one of thankless servitude. The Crown just takes and takes and takes. From all of us. Even the one made to wear the Crown. It is a harsh taskmaster, with no feeling. No emotion. No sympathy. It will take from you everything that you have to give, and then some. It has taken so much from Celestia. From Luna. Even me… I won't lie… I am but a hollow shell of the pony that I once was. Bitter, cynical, jaded… all of these things apply to me. 

"The Crown has done nothing but take, and gives nothing in return. So if you want to quit, now is the time, my dear Argyle. Go while you have your sense of self intact. It is one of the first things to go. At least… that was true for me. Everything that started off as an act became true. It became my nature. Now I can't separate the pony I am from the pony that the Crown demands that I be. The lines of separation have blurred. All that is left is service." 

After a prolonged period of silence, Argyle said, "I don't know what to say…" 

"Well, I don't know what you wanted," Blueblood replied. "Sympathy? My diplomacy got mentioned. Kind words? All of these things seem trite. Pointless. I offered you some truth. Do with it as you will. Make of it what you will. I must be going. Goodbye, and all that rot." 

Nodding, Sundance replied, "Goodbye, Blueblood. Say hello to Nuance for me." 

"Oh, I shall. That might lift his spirits. He's been a moody little fellow. Being in love and all that." 

"Prince Blueblood"—his voice strained, his eyes bloodshot, Argyle appeared quite distraught—"thank you. For everything. But mostly for what you just said. It's given me some… perspective. I'm still trying to sort this out. It might not have been much of a pep-talk, but it was exactly what I needed to hear." 

"Then I am glad that I have done something beneficial." These words seemed to be sincere and Blueblood's head tilted off to the left. "Best wishes, Argyle. And congratulations. Remember, we carry the Crown together. Each and every one of us. We all do our parts." 

"Indeed, we do," Argyle replied. "Farewell." 



 
> Breakfast of champions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The illusion cloaking Hornet was truly remarkable. Errant hairs swayed back and forth in the steady breeze. The strands of her somewhat curly and rather wavy mane bobbed with her every movement. When she blinked, her eyelashes clung to one another before being pulled apart. Up close, the illusion was perfect—which was more than a little unsettling. The not-pegasus had changed; today, her colours were black and yellow, just like her namesake. Her eyes glittered like emeralds as she watched the rising sun. 

"You are watching me and not the sunrise," she said to Sundance in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. 

"Did you sleep well? Did you find a place to settle in? Were you uncomfortable being away from your fellow 'lings?" Of course, Sundance had nothing to say about her not-so-subtle accusation. 

"I slept just fine," she replied, almost smiling, almost smirking. "Last night, I got ''ling-napped by a gang of orphans, who pulled me into their orphan-hive. I told them bedtime stories, and changed myself into the characters in their book. Even did the voices. I became an elephant… a very small elephant, mind you. Not enough room. And I became a spider. And a crocodile witchdoctor. What a crazy time we had. I gave them story time and in return, I got to bask in their love overnight, so I am fully charged and ready to do whatever it is that we're going to do today." 

"That's amazing." 

"I know." 

"No, really… that is amazing. I worry about them getting bored sometimes. I bet that was a lot of fun." 

"It was. Tonight, we're going to do it again. I think I'll call it Madam Bedbug's story hour." 

At the mention of bedbugs, Sundance shuddered. 

"Oh look," Hornet said as she extended her left wing and pointed with her primaries. "Megara and River Raider. Here they come." 

"Why do we have to leave on an empty stomach?" asked Sundance, who found this quite disagreeable. He wanted breakfast. There was an empty, cavernous ache in his midsection that he didn't like at all. 

"I could regurgitate you some—" 

"No, that's fine. Thank you, Hornet." 

"Just think of it as honey." 

Now a bit queasy, Sundance wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to enjoy honey ever again. 

"They're waving to us. Come on, we'd better go. Adventure awaits!" 



 

Megara flew very much like a thrown anchor. For Sundance, this was a relaxed pace, and this seemed to be the case for River Raider as well. Hornet however, was a speedy flier, as well as an impatient one, and so she flew in loops and circles around her companions. While her illusion was convincing, she didn't fly like a pegasus. Not at all. Not even a little bit. At any given moment, she could fly off in any given direction, and do so without turning her body around. In short, she flew like a bug, buzzing along, hovering, and zooming about. 

It wasn't hard to spot a changeling, Sundance thought, if one knew the differences. 

With his armor at home, Sundance wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in an actual fight. This uncertainty filled his stomach with butterflies, which wasn't much of a breakfast. Megara had outfitted him just before leaving. A few javelins, some war darts, and Lucky, his pony shoe tomahawk, which Sundance thought rather looked like a question mark. The javelins were slung low on his side, beneath his left wing, down near his belly. As for the war darts, they were attached to his figure-eight harness, along with Lucky. 

All he could do was trust in Megara's wise judgment. 

"Hornet, can you shape-shift?" Megara asked as the agile 'ling flew in circles around her. 

"Not very well," Hornet replied. "I can change how I look, but I can't mass-shift very well. Not like the others." 

Sundance had no idea what this was—and he didn't ask. 

"Specialised illusion magic," River Raider said to him. "At least, that is the belief. Illusion indistinguishable from reality. I can smell illusion though, so I know what's up." 

Hornet asked, "You can smell illusion? How does that work?" 

"It smells like deception." If there was more to be said, River Raider did not elaborate. 

"Some think that mass-shifting is a type of transmutation magic." Flapping her wings, Megara continued along at a sedate pace, very much like a hurled brick or a tuba catapulted towards the sun. "Sumac has a hypothesis that there are multiple types of mass-shifting, which might explain all the discrepancies to be found. But sorting this out is nigh-impossible, because magic doesn't like to be studied and actively thwarts all efforts of understanding." 

"I can't become a big scary dragon," Hornet began, "but I can become a me-sized dragon. Or a me-sized displacer beast. I'm very good at that. The illusion aspect feels natural. But… monster transformations make Simulacra and Simulation upset. I make them upset." 

"Aw, cheer up, Ladybug. We'll show them the good you can do." Genuinely upbeat, Megara waved her broad paws about, which caused her to slow down a bit. "I think that you're just what we needed… and what I think matters more, because I am the Manticore at Arms. I keep others safe. So don't be troubled, Ladybug." 

"I'm no ladybug," Hornet replied, flitting to and fro. "I'm a hornet!" 



 

Halfhill Hub was exactly what its name implied. A hill. Cut in half to allow for a level track which passed right through the middle of where the whole hill had once stood. There was an open air market here, farms, it was a thriving community—and Sundance owned half of it. The news left him speechless. What could he say? What could be said? How did one respond, exactly to this sort of discovery? There were farms here and he'd just flown over an enormous watermelon patch. Tall, leafy green plants swayed in the aggressive breeze. In the distance, there was a train whistle that grew fainter with each second that passed. 

"Sumac never intended to keep this." Her voice subdued, Megara had none of her usual overabundance of good cheer and enthusiasm. "But it had to be protected. He even had a fence constructed to show where your land ended and his began. It's that stone fence right over there that runs right up to the tracks. Also, the tracks form your northernmost borders." 

A bit bewildered, Sundance offered no response, but just stood there, looking about. 

"This is one of Equestria's most important hubs," Megara continued as she gestured with her paw. "There are a great many railroad agents here that secure goods. Company agents live and work here, buying goods and produce to ship off to markets in the big cities. A lot of mineral ore ends up here from freelands just to the north… unclaimed lands part of no holding, no barony. Farmers bring their goods here from hundreds of miles in all directions. Most of Lulamoon Hollow's alchemical supplies are shipped from here due to safety regulations." 

"I had no idea any of this existed," Sundance said.

"When you came to visit, you passed so very close," Megara said to him. "But you stayed close to the Canterhorn. Trust a pegasus to fly by landmarks. Had you flown out just a little further, you would have found this place. Would you like to meet the ponies living on your lands?" 

"No," Sundance blurted out without a second's worth of thought. Then, he had to think about why he'd said it for a time. After a considerable pause, he shook his head. "We came out with a task in mind. If I meet them, things will get complicated. A lot of things will have to be said. There might be questions. I might have questions. They might have questions. I don't have answers. The job won't get done." 

"Right." Megara leaned in a little closer. "You're taking this well, Sundance. It's expensive to maintain this place." Holding out her paw, she pointed with an extended claw at a wooden watchtower. "The guards cost a precious bit of coin. Some time ago, Pebble didn't pay enough for guards. Had to cut expenses somewhere, she insisted. I told her not to cut expenses from security. She didn't listen. 

"Low-grade mercs are really no different than bandits. They just clean up better. Sooner or later, their true colours shine through. The griffon merc clan that was hired, they got a little rough with the locals. A bit grabby. Wanted themselves some incentives they felt they deserved. Then they wanted an increase in pay… to keep the peace. Without that increase in pay, there might be trouble, they said. That was the implication. When asked to clear out… they demanded a hefty sum to break their contract." 

Wearing a grim expression, Megara shook her head from side to side. 

"I had to go through and break me some necks. Many necks were broken that night. Many heads were unscrewed and the contents found therein inside the bodies spilled out. I had to clean up after Pebble's little mistake… which is why she listens to me. You'll listen to me, won't you, Sundance? You… yer a smart-enough fella. You'll learn from the mistakes of others, right?" 

He hurriedly nodded whilst he also shuddered in revulsion at the notion of unscrewed heads. 

"Good. Good. That's what I like to hear. Can't abide willful stupidity that hurts the lives of others. That's why I am the Manticore at Arms. Sumac wanted you to know that when you can afford to contribute your half to all of this, you'll get half of all the returns. But there'll be no cuts, no trimming of the corners to reduce expenses. You come to the table ready and willing to spend, or you don't come to the table at all. Everything stays the way it is, and it is costly." 

"When I prove myself worthy, we'll sort this out," Sundance said, his voice strained and thin. 

"That's what I like to hear. You're humble, Sundance. That's good. A haughty lord might demand what was his, and let all this come to ruin. Don't be a haughty lord, Sundance. Be a humble one. These ponies and creatures are counting on it. I'm counting on it. We don't want to repeat the mistakes of the past and I don't want to go unscrewing heads because it makes an awful mess. Not to mention I find the screaming and the pleading and the cries for mercy downright annoying. It's like claws on a chalkboard. I have a job to do and all that pitiful screeching makes my job stressful. Why is it that nopony ever thinks about the stress I encounter on the job?" 

Almost shivering from everything that Megara had said, Sundance chose to focus on the sunny, bright aspects of all of this, for Megara the Manticore at Arms was far too grim. He saw this for what it was; one of many futures. A sunflower reaching upward for the sun. He glanced about, his eyes going from place to place, from cottage to cottage, to warehouse, to market stall. Equestria's food came from somewhere. Little places just like this one. Nopony had told him—and he understood why on some level. What if he'd reacted poorly? Thrown a fit? Demanded what was his? The creatures living here were protected from all threats—including him. He thought about the previous Milord and wondered if he knew. 

Sumac had done right by these creatures, and Sundance was grateful. 

Now, more than ever, he had to do right. There was a ready-made community waiting for him. But this also represented a great deal of complication. Responsibility. This would only make things harder, more stressful. As he stood there, thoughtful, he felt the oppressive weight of some unseen, intangible force pressing down upon his head, which threatened to bend his neck. Rather than succumb to the weight, he thought about what he could learn from this place—there was much to be learned—and he knew that he could use this place as a template of sorts to build up other successful communities. 

It was only during this moment of understanding that he knew what an asset this place was. 

"I don't think I can do this." 

"River?" 

With an itch deep within his brain, Sundance turned to face River Raider, who stood a short distance away. She was unsettled, that much was clear—and even worse, she appeared to be in pain. He could see it on her face. No… worse than that, he could feel it in his mind now that he paid attention to it. The itch was more than a mere itch. When he focused upon it, he felt things. Sensed things. While he didn't fully understand what he felt, what he sensed, he knew that he could comprehend these things if given enough time. 

"You know"—her voice gentle, reassuring, and kind, Hornet moved closer to River Raider as she spoke—"I might be able to block your mind from others. We changelings have to protect ourselves from psychic backlash because as a hivemind, we are weak to such things. While you are not a changeling, you are mind-aware. Will you let me help you? I am eager to test myself." 

"You'd do that for me? Why? You have to know exactly what I think about you." 

The pain in River Raider's voice wasn't registered by his ears, but by the itch inside of Sundance's brain. It was strange, hearing a sound but also receiving a signal that wasn't sound. This was new. It was different. As he stood there, trying to sort out what was going on, he felt a second presence in his mind. Something within him awoke. Was it the pain? His sense of compassion? 

Everything felt dreamlike and Sundance wondered if he was perhaps asleep. 

"What's going on?" Eyes flitting to and fro, Megara appeared to be attempting to size up the situation. 

"You are not mind-aware," Hornet said to the mighty manticore. "You would not understand…" 



 

Halfhill Hall existed within the granite heart of the hewn hill. Just inside of the doorway, Sundance found himself unable to move. Rough timbers—some of them still had bark on them—framed everything and formed rafters overhead. A long bar made of flowing shaped stone ran almost the full length of the hall. Clusters of tables filled the long room, with wide spaces in between. The overall effect of the entire room was just breathtaking—but the size, the size of everything left Sundance feeling small and foalish. 

A minotaur bull stood behind the bar, and this did much to explain the immensity of everything in the room, from the tall doors, to the vaulted ceiling, and the sheer scope and scale of everything. The barkeeper was polishing a gleaming metal tankard larger than Sundance's own head. Then, with a gasp, Sundance paid full attention to the minotaur's horns, each of which had to be almost a yard long. What trouble one must suffer to pass through doors. 

"Meg." 

"Mundt." 

"Tear somebody in half yet, Meg?" 

"The day's barely started, Mundt. Give me time." 

"Meg… what's the changeling doing here?"

"Nothing gets by you, does it, Mundt?" 

"Get out." 

"Now hold on, Mundt… she's with me." 

"Don't care. Out." The minotaur extended one big beefy finger and pointed at the door. 

"Well, now I gotta rip somebody in half," Megara said, almost muttering. "The day started out so nice." 

The minotaur seemed visibly disturbed by this. Sundance felt somepony brush up against him, and realised it was Hornet. Then, to his left, he noticed that River Raider had dropped into a downright aggressive posture, with her hackles up and her ears forward like two fuzzy spear points. As for Megara, not much had changed. She had a calm, relaxed posture, and Sundance supposed that the potential for violence was nothing for her to get excited about. 

"I was in Canterlot during the invasion, Meg." 

"Well, Hornet wasn't even alive when the invasion happened. Wanna talk about all the awful things that minotaurs have done to ponies?" 

"I'm an Equestrian," Mundt said, almost bellowing. "I had no part in any of that!" 

Saying nothing, Megara squinted at the now offended minotaur, and waited. 

Scowling, Mundt dropped his hand; his finger ceased to point. His broad shoulders rose and fell, while his nostrils widened and contracted. There was anger in his eye, dangerous anger, and Sundance wasn't sure how this would play out. The minotaur and the manticore seemed to know one another—maybe even respected one another—but all that seemed to be in danger of dissolving during this heated moment. 

Almost snarling, Mundt squeezed the tankard held in his other hand and it crumpled like tinfoil.

"Think about what you're doing, Mundt." Megara's words were a flawless deadpan, devoid of emotion. "The Rangers don't have to operate out of Halfhill Hall. My father could find a place a bit more welcoming. No more bounty board. No more bounties. No more incentives from the Crown. Now… little Hornet here, she's come to prove herself. We came here today to find a bounty and do a little work. Are you gonna stop us from doing that?" 

"No." Mundt spat out his response as if it had a terrible taste. 

"Are you gonna stow this 'tude of yours?" 

Mundt stared, but offered no response. 

"Guess not. Well, that's fine. You can sulk and be a crycalf behind your bar. We'll go sit in the corner over yonder and stay out of your way. Mind you… you say one uncouth word to my little friend here… and you and I are gonna tango. Got that?" 

The minotaur snorted, but no words were said. 

"I mean that… I will drag you outside by your horns and I will thrash you. Don't make me do that, Mundt. We have a good working relationship. Don't mess that up." 

Making a dismissive wave with his big beefy hand, Mundt finally said, "Go on. Sit down. I'll keep to myself. You'll get no trouble from me." 

"Thanks, Mundt. You're a swell fellow."



 

After all of the dangerous intensity, Sundance could finally relax. He sat in the corner, because he liked the corner. It allowed him to see the whole of the room—and to keep an eye on Mundt. Perhaps there was a lesson to be learned in all that had just happened. How to handle things. A lesson in how to be authoritative. He would have to sort it out later, because he was far too unsettled at the moment. Hornet seemed genuinely upset, hurt even, but she did her best to hide it. 

The problem was, Sundance could feel it, which left him confused on how to deal with it. 

Across the table, Megara acted as if nothing had happened. She seemed cheerful. Upbeat. Her good mood seemed utterly unspoiled. As for River Raider, she was dark. Sullen. The anger in her eyes was like two lit coals left to burn. She burned with rage in the most literal sense, and Sundance could feel the sweltering heat emanate from her in unpleasant waves that left him more than a little sweaty. 

The dining area was almost deserted; it was neither breakfast time nor lunch time, but that stretch that existed in between. Sundance thought of the city, where everything happened in shifts. A place could be empty but with the changing of the hour, it would be absolutely packed—only to be emptied out once more with the turning of the hands on the clock. Perhaps this place wasn't so different. 

"The day grows near the big hours," Megara said. 

"What's that mean?" asked Sundance. "An hour is an hour, right?" 

"Octavia"—Megara cleared her throat—"calls the single digit hours small hours, and the double digit hours the big hours." 

"Oh." Head almost bowed, Sundance rested his forelegs upon the table and wished that he wasn't sitting next to a raging furnace. "That makes sense." 

"Of course it does," Megara replied. 

Without warning, River Raider yawned and sent out a shower of lively sparks that bounced and danced over the smooth surface of the table. Alright, so one friend was flammable, and Sundance would have to keep this in mind. He would have to mind his feathers and—oh no, she was looking right at him because she knew his thoughts. 

Some dreadful thing that couldn't possibly be a smile appeared upon her face. 

It occurred to Sundance that he was the only pony in the group. There was a manticore, a changeling, and the nocturnal pegasus. None of them fit in, not exactly. He'd just witnessed the outright hatred that some had for changelings. How did the minotaur know that Hornet was a changeling? He cast his eyes on Hornet, who was not the cheerful 'ling that she had been earlier this morning. Madam Bedbug really needed a friend. Unfortunately, it did not seem that Megara and River Raider were the friendly sorts. 

At this moment, Sundance hesitated; Hornet was female and this complicated things. What did he do? What could he do? What was right? Just how exactly did he go about this complicated business? Before he could sort these things out, Hornet wiggled around in her seat, scooted closer to him, wrapped her forelegs around him, and then clung to him. As weird as this was, it only got weirder when he thought about her offer to regurgitate some honey for him. 

After deciding that no harm could be done, he slipped his foreleg around Hornet and held her. 



 

The young minotaur maid had huge pillowy bosoms that seemed quite cumbersome given their peculiar location. Sundance was rather mesmerised by them as they swayed from side to side, to and fro, while also bouncing up and down with every movement made. Where they moved, his eyes followed, and he was so entranced that he failed to notice the dead-stare from River Raider boring into the back of his skull. 

Such milk-bearing mammaries were magnificent, he decided, even if they had an odd placement that made no logical sense. The minotaur maid's dress strained at the seams in a struggle to contain her overly-generous assets, and her form-fitting outer corset threatened to burst with her every breath. It was a strange garment, one that lifted and separated, and held her bountiful bovine bust aloft. Sundance, ignorant of such things, suspected that said garment had more to do with engineering than mere fashion. 

"Sundance…" 

His head jerked around at the sound of Megara's voice. "Yes?" 

"I do believe that River is about to slap the eyeballs right out of yer head." 

These words caused a shiver. He dared not turn around. Instead, his gaze dropped to the table. Had he been staring? Was it obvious? His curiousness got him in trouble. It was curiousness—and not lust. Not at all. Just… fascination with another species. Which was a good thing. Right? The itch inside of his brain was like a lit match, now that he paid attention to it, and he wondered what it would feel like to have his eyeballs slapped right out of his head. 

Surely, his mother would approve. 

"Sundance finds your mammalian lactation organs of particular interest," Hornet said in the most helpful manner imaginable. 

"They are magnificent," the minotaur maid said while pressing her hands against her bosoms and pressing them together. "I'm Milchmädchen. Everypony calls me Milly. Mundt is my father." She gave herself another squeeze and her leather corset creaked from the increased strain. "Sorry for the delay… I was churning butter and my father did not tell me that we had customers. He seems a bit miffed. I wish I knew why." 

At a loss for words, Sundance almost swallowed his tongue. 

"What might I bring you? Breakfast? Lunch? Brunch?" 

Requesting a glass of chocolate milk seemed somehow inappropriate. 

Was it worth sudden blindness? 

"Is that special maple-cured boar bacon done yet?" asked Megara. 

"Sorry, no." 

"But I killed that boar weeks ago!" 

"These things take time," Milly said apologetically. 

"Well… argh." Wearing an expression of extreme disappointment, the mighty manticore rested both of her front paws upon the table. "I'll have the regular boar bacon breakfast platter and a pitcher of buttermilk. I guess. With a side of sadness." 

"One side of sadness," Milly said as she began to scribble on a notepad. "I'll bring you your usual, Nutmeg." Then, with her pencil at the ready, she waited. 

"I'll have what she's having," River Raider said. "But no buttermilk. Blech. Bring me a gallon of hard cider. I need to stoke my fire." 

"More for me," Megara remarked. 

Hornet, the helpful, clingy creature that she was, pulled herself away from Sundance and looked up at the massive minotaur maid that towered over her. She smiled, because of course she did, and then she introduced herself. "I'm Hornet. What do you got that's sweet?" 

"What do we have that's sweet?" The question was repeated with an exaggerated sense of dramatic flair. "We have everything that is sweet. Pastries, donuts, pies, cakes, everything. And fried milk is one of the house specialties. Oh, and we have red velvet cake waffles. You might be interested in those." 

"I'll have those," Hornet blurted out and she squirmed beside Sundance. "Smother them in syrup. And whipped cream. And everything." 

"Sinful red velvet waffles, everything," Milchmädchen said whilst she wrote this down with her pencil. "Anything to drink?" 

"Something sugary," Hornet replied. 

"Apple juice it is. Orange juice would taste funny with the chocolate syrup." 

Eyes still cast downward, Sundance wasn't sure if it was safe to look up, because he was within reach of River Raider. She had long legs. Shapely legs. Well-muscled legs. Too late, he realised that his mind was a-wandering and if this kept up, he was going to die. There would be no point in having breakfast, unless he wanted a last meal, as was the right of the condemned. 

Across the table, Megara began to snicker. 

"There's no menus," he managed to say with only a slight squeak to his voice. "What's the house famous for?" 

"The mashed potato sandwich." Milchmädchen's booming voice almost echoed throughout the massive hall. 

"A mashed potato sandwich?" Incredulous, Sundance forgot the danger he was in and only somewhat stupefied, he repeated himself. "A mashed potato sandwich?" 

"Yes, a mashed potato sandwich. On potato bread." 

"Mashed potatoes… on a sandwich?" 

"It's no different than mashed legumes on a sandwich. Like peanut butter." 

"But it is," Sundance replied. "It is quite different, I think. Peanut butter belongs on sandwiches. There's a difference. Potatoes are a side dish. Not a sandwich filler." 

"Not really," Milchmädchen returned. "Savoury mashed spuds. Sour cream. Runny goat cheese. Green onions. Dill. Lavender. Three different kinds of pepper. And smoked salt. Best sandwich you'll ever have." 

"Fine. I'll have one. With tea." 

"Side?" the attentive minotaur maid asked. 

"I get a side?" Sundance paused. "I suppose a side of house chips might be too much potato. Any recommendations?" 

"Minced onion, black bean, and mushroom cornmeal fritters are a house favourite. The farmers love them." 

"I'll have those. And uh… I'll also take a glass of chocolate milk." 

"You'll be flying in the rear," Megara interjected with a snort of amused disgust. "Farmer fart fritters… I guess I'll take a side of those as well." 

"Are they good?" asked River Raider. 

"Concentrated calories," Megara replied. "Good for when there are no plans for lunch." 

"I'll have some as well," River Raider said to the minotaur maid. 

"I'll bring out a huge platter." Milchmädchen smiled and when she inhaled, her bountiful bovinely bosoms bounced. "Surely, such good friends can share." 



 

With Megara gone to check out the bounty board, Sundance found himself with fine company whilst he waited for his food. Sandwiched between them, he waited for his mashed potato sandwich, and his mind drifted from subject to subject. Back when he was just a colt in school, this would have been a fantasy scenario, to have gone on what was arguably a date with not one, but three females. But he was older now, a bit more mature, and could appreciate the complexity of his adult relationships. 

River Raider kept her distance and was mostly quiet. He wondered if Hornet was able to block out unwanted mental noise, but he didn't bother to ask. Whatever the outcome, River Raider didn't seem quite as dour as she could be, and might even be enjoying herself—though that bit of speculation might be stretching it a bit. As for Hornet, she was affectionate. Clingy. It was hard to not feel something. Her illusion was such that he did not feel hard chitin, but soft fuzzy flesh. She was warm and her body had a certain undeniable appeal that he did his very best to deny because he knew that if he went all in, River Raider would be quite uncomfortable. 

So Sundance did his very best to avoid rising to the occasion.

"The others," Hornet said in a low voice, "are content to hide themselves away so we can discover ourselves as a species. And that's fine for them. But I want to see the world. I want to adventure. I want to discover things and see what's over the mountains. There's a horizon out there, and another horizon beyond that one, and I want to see all these horizons." 

"That puts you at odds with your kind," River Raider remarked in response, and she shook her head from side to side with a soft sigh. "I sympathise. I really do. I exist at odds with my own species… I'm an outcast. But I stopped trying to fit in. I gave up on that weakness. I am my own creature now. A species of one."

"I am part of a hivemind." Hornet's words were now a mere whisper, a thin sound that was almost reedy. "I have no choice but to fit in, because I don't think I can fit out. There's a chorus of voices singing harmony inside of my head at all times, and I would be lonesome without it. I can't even begin to imagine how singular-minded creatures manage to exist. How lonely it must be. Such crushing loneliness." 

With a jerk of her head off to one side, River Raider snorted and shot out a stream of smoke. 

"Can you hear that chorus now?" asked Sundance. "I mean, we're pretty far away." 

"Oh, I hear it." A smile parted Hornet's gentle features. "It is a distant sound, almost like a whisper. But it's there. The song says come home. It's hard to resist, and I want to obey. It beckons… and I feel the need to answer. But I have a job to do, and so it will be done." 

"That sounds awful… being compelled to obey." Hunched over, River Raider went still. 

"We all share the same wants, the same desires. Well, most of us. I'm different. But I take comfort in the fact that even with my differences, I still have the same shared wants and desires. The same compulsions. I want to raise a clutch of eggs. The urge is very strong. But the urge to adventure is just as strong." 

"Yeah… but if you were cut off from the others and could think freely without influence, what is it that you think you would want? Do you think you'd feel the same? Or would your wants and needs change?" 

Hornet blinked away her momentary confusion and then replied, "I don't know, River. I am unable to imagine that scenario." 

"Then you're trapped, and that's terrible." 

"I'm not trapped." 

"I think you are." 

"I don't think I am." Hornet pressed her hooves together and then squinted past Sundance to look at River Raider. "I am free to be my own creature. I am at this table right now following my own whims. But I am also aware of the needs of my species as a whole. We share the same worry and awareness. Single-minded creatures only think of their own needs and run amok—" 

"That seems harsh," River Raider said, interrupting. 

"But true." Hornet puffed out a bit, very much like a real pegasus—which she was not. "Single-minded creatures think only of themselves. They are motivated by greed. Lust. Overwhelming desires. Anything done for the whole of their society is secondary at best, and they focus on their own selfishness first and foremost. My kind… the worst thing we have… is… is… in clumsy words you would call it 'honey-lust' but it is mostly a compulsion to survive. We work very hard to overcome it." 

"And what of the former Queen Chrysalis?" asked River Raider. "She was a creature motivated by lust. Desire. Greed. So much so that she enslaved her own kind. Her own offspring. She enslaved you, she starved you, and she held you back from your own potential. She even made it so it was impossible to breed without her, dooming all of you to a terrible fate." 

"We are not the same species!" Hornet huffed, and as she did so, a flicker of green witchfire danced around her body. "We are remade. Different. Set free." 

"My point is, being part of a hivemind doesn't mean you're immune to evil and corruption. It happened once, and could happen again. All that control and rigidity is dangerous." Again, River Raider snorted and this time, Sundance got a faceful of smoke. 

He coughed. 

"Not all harmony is good," River Raider muttered beneath her breath. "There is harmonious evil. There has to be. If there wasn't"—she paused only long enough to inhale—"then harmonious good would fall out of balance. Harmony would become calamity. Too much good is exactly the same as too much evil, and both are indistinguishable from one another when you go too far in either direction. If your kind slipped into evil again… how could you tell the difference with that harmonious chorus telling you want to do, what to think, and what to feel?" 

"I… don't… know…" Almost stammering, Hornet wrapped her forelegs around her torso in a self-bug-hug. 

"Sometimes… sometimes it pays to be the one voice that stands out and sings a different song." After a rough grunt and a smoky belch, River Raider's tone softened. "Wormwood was a voice that sang his own song. He had the courage to do his own thing. To go against expectations. His actions made my kind re-evaluate some of our behaviours. How we do things. Be your own bug, Hornet. If you can tune things out and gain some silence so you can focus your own thoughts, you should. Never be afraid to think for yourself." 

"Shut the others out?" The not-pegasus shook her head in astonishment. "Such a thing is unthinkable." 

"But it might be ultimately necessary," River Raider said. "You might one day change the fortunes of your kind. Or be a saviour. Or at least just have some perspective. Me… I can't shut others out, and that's my curse. I see them at their worst and know for a fact that most of their so-called goodness and honour is just so much shit." 

"That's awful." Hornet's thin whisper had a faint drone to it, a vaguely insectoid sound. 

"Meg wants to teach you how to fight. Well, I've decided that I want to do the same. Mostly so I can get over my own prejudices, which I am certain you are aware of. But even sensing how I felt about you, you offered to help me. Which makes you a good creature, I think." 

"Aw, thank you." 

"Oh look," Sundance said, "here comes Meg…" 



 

"I found a bounty for a hemomancer," Megara said to the others as she sat down, "but I thought that was a bit much for our first day out. But I found something else. A perfect first assignment. So, we're golden." 

Unconcerned by his own ignorance, Sundance dared ask, "What's a hemomancer?" 

"A blood mage," Megara said while she got herself comfortable. "Blood wizards. They do blood magic. Spells that control blood." 

"You're full of blood," River Raider said to Sundance. 

"So I am," he replied, unsettled and disturbed as the ever-growing implications dawned upon him. 

"You know, this is a bad sign. There was a day when Wardens would've hunted down a hemomancer. Or Solars." A truly ferocious frown contorted River Raider's face. "Now, with the war, and everything going on, it falls upon bounty hunters to deal with hemomancers. Says an awful lot about the sort of trouble Equestria's in." 

"Maybe." The manticore grunted as she pulled her tail free from beneath her, leaning off to one side as she did so. "But we have more capable bands of adventurers than ever. Hunters. Rangers. Bold druids. Wizards wishing to test their mettle. Ponies like Sundance who wish to learn to fight. A hemomancer is just what we need. Honestly, these middling villains do us a service. We should be thanking them… just before we crack their skulls and send their souls to Tartarus." 

"That's a funny way to look at it," River Raider said to Megara. 

"But I'm not wrong," the Manticore at Arms responded. 

"Can you even fight wizards, Meg?" 

"Not really." This response was low, slow, and drawn out. "I mean, I have some magic resistance. A fair bit, actually. I even have a little magic. But a competent warrior knows their limitations. Most wizards are above my pay grade. It's a reasonable weakness." 

"So… what's the bounty, Meg?" asked River Raider. 

"An ogre." A bit of volume returned to Megara's voice and her eyes blazed with fierce intensity. "We're going ogre hunting. This is not a relocation mission. This is a seek and destroy with extreme prejudice mission." 

At the risk of making a fool of himself, Sundance had this to say: "An ogre? An actual ogre? Like, the monsters from comics and movies? Those are real? Just what is an ogre, anyway?" 

River Raider focused a downright barbarous deadpan stare upon Sundance. 

"Haven't you ever played Ogres & Oubliettes? I see that I have my work cut out for me." Drumming her claws upon the table, Megara smiled and revealed far too many teeth. 

"I can only assume that ogres are extremely dangerous," Sundance said. "Are you sure this is a good first mission?" 

"Oh, please." The manticore dismissed Sundance's concerns with a casual wave of her paw. "My father took me ogre hunting when I was just a little cubby." 

"And he wasn't arrested?" 

The barbarous deadpan stare shattered; the mask broke and fell away as River Raider began to chortle. Sundance couldn't remember if he'd ever heard River Raider laugh before, but this felt like a new experience. Across the table, Megara's eyes glittered with dangerous amusement, and Sundance knew for certain that'd he pay for his wisecrack. It was worth it though, totally worth it. At least for now. When it came time to pay the consequences, he might feel different. 

"Somepony failed their saving throw against stupidity," Megara remarked. "Yes, ogres are real. I can't believe that as a manticore, I'm having to explain this to a talking, flying, magical miniature horsie that is currently armed to the teeth with implements of injurious impalement."

"Hey!" 

But Sundance's outraged cry of protest was ignored. 

"Ogres are just really big goblins, really. And goblins are creatures that can breed with anything. Which means that goblins can be almost anything you can imagine, trait wise, and come in all sizes. From goblin-sized to ogre-sized. They tend to look a bit like Discord, but far less attractive. Not that Discord is attractive. I guess what I'm trying to say is, goblinoids are dirty, disgusting, filth-ridden, infested with fleas, and never bathe. At least Discord is clean and presentable. Except for when he isn't. There's a lot of times he isn't." 

With an air of casual cool, Megara the Lioness cracked her paw-knuckles and then flexed her claws. 

"We're about to break bread," she said, her eyes meeting those of every creature that sat across the table from her one-by-one. "And then we will go into battle against a worthy foe. Bonds will be forged. We will be battle-sisters and battle-brothers. We will see each other at our best and at our worst. There might be tears or embarrassing moments when we soil ourselves from terror. We would do well to remember that these are reasons to come together. Be supportive. Be good to one another." 

Deep down inside of himself, Sundance felt something stir; was it inspiration or hunger? 

"And then what?" asked Hornet. 

"Then what?" A bit confused, Megara waited for Hornet to elaborate. 

"I mean, we go out and deal with this ogre. And then what? Do we haul part of him back? How do we collect the bounty? Do we know where he is? There seems to be a lot of details unaccounted for." 

"We kill him, plain and simple. We're not butchers and we don't take trophies. When collecting bounties, I'm as good as my word." Again, the mighty manticore cracked her knuckles, this time on her other paw. "We'll sort everything out as it happens. Try not to worry." 

"So we just take a bounty, fly off, show up, and kill him?" Rubbing her front hooves together, Hornet seemed far too cute and adorable to be discussing such bloody business. "Knock-knock, Mister Ogre… time to die!" 

"Yeah, that's the plan. More or less. Don't expect the ogre to quietly accept his fate. They never do." Leaning back in her seat, Megara poked an extended claw into her mouth,  and picked at a spot between tooth and tusk. When she pulled her claw back out, it glistened with viscous manticore slobber. "That's the bounty business. Sometimes, sometimes we do relocations on some creatures. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are pretty insistent that we don't hunt certain creatures into extinction. Such as manticores. Because every now and then, there are exceptional manticores that rise above the rest and do great things. We might take a relocation job just so you can learn non-lethal combat." 

"And we know he deserves to die?" Wide-eyed, Hornet awaited confirmation. 

"He roams along the rail line and preys upon the various stops and loading depots. Travellers have gone missing. Some have escaped and reported the ogre. He lives along Savage Ridge… which just so happens to fall within Sundance's lands. Just south and east of here. Maybe seventy-ish miles or so. He's cunning, for an ogre. His hunting grounds, the tracks, are a good twenty-ish to thirty-ish miles from where he's suspected to live, so he's terrorising Sundance's northernmost border. There's an ore stop out that way… to the north of the tracks, outside of Sundance's territory, a water stop, and a postal platform way out in the alicorn-forsaken boonies. He's been spotted at each of these locations, which are miles apart. He's got a huge range… and we've got to find him." 

"Well then, he's as good as dead." 

"You're a bloodthirsty little ladybug." 

"My home must be defended." 

Megara smiled; the corners of her mouth kept going back, revealing more and more teeth. Too many teeth of too many types. Serrated molars poked out of pink-purple gums, along with teeth that were pointy like spear tips. Such a dangerous mouth, Sundance could not help but wonder how her tongue stayed safe in there. The size of her maw was impressive and he reckoned that she could fit a whole pizza in there, all in one go. It terrified him—but also left him curiously aroused. Megara was a feminine creature, of this there could be no doubt, and there was a certain inviting charm to her. 

A dangerous inviting charm that only a daredevil pegasus could appreciate. 
> Four ponies tall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know… I can't believe he ate the whole thing." 

"Meg… thinking that pegasus ponies eat like birds… that's tribalist. Kinda rude." 

"I was thinking it, not saying it. Saying it is rude, River. If I didn't have somepony announcing my otherwise private thoughts, everything would be fine." 

"But thinking it, that's rude…" 

"You know what's rude—" 

"Girls… girls… save it for the ogre." 

"Ladybug just called us out, Meg." 

"She did. No fear. Bold little buggo." 

Swaying from side to side, Sundance tried not to think too much about flying. Starting off would be rough, of that there could be no doubt—but in an hour or two, he would be peckish. Which was the last thing one should feel when one's eating habits were compared to that of birds. Mashed potatoes, as it turned out, made for excellent sandwiches, and he planned to eat another one as soon as equinely possible. Ears back, eyes wide, he peeled his lips back from his herb-flecked teeth and belched. 

River Raider's mane was blown away from her face and tangled around her ears. 

He didn't think he had it in him; it was supposed to be just a little belch, something to ease the pressure, but what came out was a foghorn blast that rattled the plates and glasses on the table. Slowly, eyes narrow with menace, River Raider turned her shaggy head to scowl at him. He grinned at her, sheepish and submissive, and just as he started to apologise, a second belch—somehow far more fearsome than the first—escaped him. 

"That was surprisingly hot wind," the massive brute of a mare remarked as her mane once more resettled into a new unkempt style. "Kindly keep it to yourself." 

"'Scuse me." 

"There is no excuse for you," River Raider said as she flicked her ears to get them untangled from her windswept mane. "Disgusting." 

"Is it tribalist to talk about gassy pegasus ponies?" asked Megara. 

"Not at all," River Raider deadpanned in response. "Not at all." 



 

The tracks down below stretched like a serpentine road into the eastward unknown. Not one set of tracks, no, but three. Sundance didn't understand why there were three, nor did he question it. Two of the tracks were somewhat close together, and the third were set some distance away. Off to his right were the Foal Mountains, a truly majestic sight. To his left was a majestic primal forest, rolling hills, and broad, mighty rivers. 

It was great to be out and with such fine company. 

Hornet flew about like a sugar-and-caffeine addled bumblebee, zooming to and fro in short, straight lines. It was obvious that she was enjoying herself and Sundance reminded himself that she'd grown up in a lab, some secretive secured location. So she was seeing the world and all of the beauty that said world had to offer. As for Sundance himself, he too was seeing new parts of Equestria, and a part of him wondered what was over the yonder horizon. 

Down below, there were a series of billboards along the third tracks, and the first one caught Sundance's eye. "In just four-hundred furlongs, your life will change," he read as he flew overhead. Furlongs? He had no clue what a furlong was, but he knew that Central Equestria was a bit behind the times. His own barony was proof of that. Ponyville had thatched roof cottages. But what was a furlong? And what could possibly change his life? The sign said to keep going east which he was already doing. 

Since they were moving along at a reasonable speed, it wasn't long until the second billboard along the tracks came into view. Sundance zoomed down to have a look, because his brain demanded some kind of stimulation during his eastward flight. This billboard had a drawing of an old windmill, and beside it was bold, blocky text. 

"Does the city vex thee?" Sundance read aloud. "Fly east." 

Well, the billboards were somewhat compelling, but also a bit cryptic. He was flying east already, due to business with a certain ogre. Was he vexed by a city? He didn't know. What could possibly be east that would help a pony vexed by the city? What did it mean to be vexed, anyhow? And for that matter, what was a furlong? Taken together as a whole, this was just a bit weird—and Sundance found himself reluctantly intrigued. 

"All this beautiful wilderness," Megara said with disappointment thick in her voice, "and somepony had to put up all these billboards. Shameful!" 



 

There were, in fact, a lot of billboards. A series of them told a limerick about eating supper in Celestia's Grindhouse Mill, which was apparently the old windmill seen in pictures. Sundance had been putting the pieces together, because it gave his mind something to do. It was an inn. But also a restaurant. And a museum. It was a trackside attraction out in the middle of absolute nowhere. But, Sundance surmised, it had to be popular if it had the budget to afford all these billboards. 

The mystery of the third track revealed itself and Sundance saw a pony heading in the direction of Halfhill Hub on a crank cart. So… that was how batches of goods got moved. It gave him ideas, it inspired him. If he had the tracks, he could use crank carts to move goods. But he had no tracks. He spied baskets of fruits and vegetables and other goods in wooden crates. What if another pony with a crank cart was going in the other direction? Tracks clearly had their limitations, but still might prove useful. 

"We have to stop at Celestia's Grindhouse Mill," River Raider said as she gestured at a distant billboard with her hoof. 

It would seem that Sundance wasn't the only one reading the advertising. 

"We can't," Megara said in response. 

"Yes we can," River Raider retorted. "We can and we will." 

"What's got you so worked up?" Megara demanded. 

"Equestria's smelliest, most dangerous cheese. I need to get my nose next to that." 

"Cheese?" Megara seemed genuinely confused. "We're stopping for cheese?" 

"Not just any cheese!" 

Was… was River Raider actually excited about something? 

With a burst of speed, he flew closer to the distant billboard, because he couldn't make out what it said. River Raider's eyes were truly spectacular, if she could read this from so far away, and Sundance could not help but feel just a teensy-weensy bit envious. But he was a faster flier, and more agile in the air as well. At least, he thought he was. He was pretty certain that he was. 

When the letters came into focus, he read the words aloud. 

"Come and see Equestria's most dangerous and most aged cheese. Too dangerous to be kept in populated cities, Equestria's most dangerous and most aged cheese was moved out to Celestia's Grindhouse Mill, where it is now kept in an airlocked vault. Don't delay, come visit today!" 

"We have ogre business." 

"Meg, we're stopping." Though a bit fearful, a bit anxious, and almost breathless from trepidation, Sundance put his hoof down—in a manner of speaking, of course. "This is the first time I've seen River happy and excited about something. I'm pretty sure that you forced her into doing this, so this is her compensation." 

"But—" 

"No buts," he said before Megara could finish. 

"Fine, but we're only stopping to see the cheese, and not the rest of this tourist trap museum." Something about Megara's tone suggested extreme agitation and annoyance. "We have to stop and look at cheese? Really? It's probably just a gimmick of some kind to lure in the stupid." 

"We have to hurry," River Raider said as she looked eastward. "I wanna see the cheese!" 

"Well… it is in the general area where we need to find the ogre. Maybe we can ask around and see if anypony has spotted our prey. That actually seems pretty reasonable and we—" 

"I wanna see the cheese too!" Hornet cried. "Must be stinky if they have to keep it in a vault! I bet it smells bad!" 

All of Megara's resigned stoicism came out in one heaved sigh. 

"This could bring us together as a team," Sundance suggested. 

"Ugh, don't start," Megara replied as she drew closer to where he hovered. "Daylight is in short supply. We're not going home until that ogre is found. Which means we're sleeping under the stars tonight, if necessary. Keep that in mind while you're looking at some old tourist trap cheese." 

"Sleeping… in the wild?" His full stomach suddenly flip-flopping, Sundance took a moment to allow this to sink in. "With dangerous predators?" 

"It'll bring us together as a team," Megara said with a snarky sneer. "Dangerous predators." She snorted with disgust whilst she gave Sundance a sardonic, almost scornful squint. "Just what do you think River and I are? If there's anything in these wilds more dangerous than us, I'd like to see it." 

"Oh, camping!" Hornet seemed enthusiastic, until she wasn't. "Oh, wait. We're already camping back home. It's not very fun. If we're out overnight, there won't be Madam Bedbug's story hour. Having some second thoughts about this cheese business—" 

"We're going to see the cheese!" River Raider roared, and then with a powerful flap of her wings, she departed with considerable speed. 

Sundance watched her go for a short time, then said to the others, "I've never seen her happy or excited about anything… I don't think. If we have to sleep outside, that's a small price to pay. Out of all of us, River's the one that needs a little happiness the most. We owe her that." 

"He's right, you know," Hornet said to Megara. "River is a very sad creature." 

"Right. Fine. Fine. Let's get going. Let's just get this over with…" 



 

Sundance was lost to aghast silence as he gazed upon the terrible beauty of Princess Cornlestia. An alicorn, with an emphasis upon the corn part. Her beautiful wings and feathers? Corn husks and corn silk. But it was her smile that captivated him most of all. Corn of all colours, from blue to white, formed her teeth. Try as he might, Sundance could not look away from this corny blaspheme. It would haunt him for the rest of his days, this shellacked monstrosity made of corn-leavings. Her mane—a pastel rainbow of dyed corn silk— swayed invitingly in the breeze and her tail was clotted with spiderwebs. 

Celestia's Grindhouse Mill (no mention of the word princess) was a peculiar place. There were ponies here—though not many—and it was in good enough repair that it was obvious that a steady flow of visitors came here. There was a train stop, a rail platform for cargo, and even a sizable warehouse, which led Sundance to believe that this was a sort of hub for the immediate area. 

The visitors were rather obvious, as they gawked at the sights to see, and the locals could be spotted as well. There were earth ponies here, most of which had corn-related cutie marks. A sort of corn cult that worshipped Cornlestia the Alicorn Princess. Sundance had no frame of reference for this weirdness, nothing he'd encountered in his short life could be compared to what he now saw. 

Come autumn, there would be Equestria's largest corn maze—a maize maze—which promised to be amazing. 

A sign suggested that tickets should be reserved now, before it was too late. 

Too late for what, Sundance wondered. 

From Princess Cornlestia's husky nether regions came a fat-bodied spider, who came out to maintain her web. What absurd horror was this? Eyes wide, Sundance watched as the spider did her spider chores and tidied up her web a bit. Maybe she was showing off for visitors. When he tried to back away, he bumped into Megara, who grunted before she stepped aside. 

"This was a mistake," the mighty manticore said to her companion. 

Nodding, Sundance replied, "Perhaps it would have been for the best if we'd gone to find the ogre." 

"Do you smell that?" asked Megara. 

Fearful, Sundance paused, and after much hesitation, he sniffed through his flared nostrils. Something beyond weird and evil lurked here. While he didn't smell it right away, he smelt it now. There was a supreme foulness that lurked just beneath the aromas of popcorn and hot fried corn fritters. It slithered up his nose and wormed its way into his brain. With a whimper, Sundance shuddered whilst he attempted to sort out just what sort of ruinous reek had just invaded his nose. 

"Is that… is that the cheese?" he dared ask. "Is the nightmare real?" 

"I think it might be," was Megara's muttered response. 

"River Raider and Hornet are in there right now," he said as he turned his head to look at the old windmill that was now a museum. 

"Be glad that you are not with them." 

While there was no comfort, no reassurance in the manticore's words, Sundance was glad to hear them. He sniffed again—and immediately wished he hadn't. A single tear welled up in the corner of his eye and he shook his head as he tried to shake the stench out of his nose. Now that he had noticed, he could not un-notice this cursed, malodorous miasma, this perverse putrescence. 

"Do you really think that the cheese was made from the befouled milk of necromantic Grogar-worshipping cultist goats?" he asked as he tried to remember all of the claims made by the signs along the way. 

"Maybe." Whiskers a-quivering, Megara tilted her head off to one side and sniffed. After a few cautious sniffs, she recoiled in disgust, and then she shouted, "Phew!" 

Now in a hurry to leave, Sundance hoped his companions would hurry up. 

"Come on, Sundance. Let's ask around about this ogre. I think we're close enough that somepony here might've seen him. Let's get to know the locals and see if we can help them. They're your neighbors, after all. Your barony is right on the other side of those tracks." 

"Right," he replied, his brain addled and or curdled from the cheese-stink. "We should help them." 



 

A long shimmering ribbon of slick, shiny drool dangled from the corner of River Raider's mouth. Of course, Sundance said nothing, but his brain offered many interjections. Surely, River Raider knew what his brain was up to, but out of politeness or kindness, neither of them said a thing. For this, he was grateful. Aside from all of this, River Raider smelt bad, and he kept quiet about this as well. 

As for Hornet, she seemed unphased, perhaps because of illusion. 

"Alright, here's the situation," Megara said now that they were all together. "Locals say the ogre makes raids on the corn convoys and any farms he comes across. Apparently, Sundance here has corn farmers squatting on his lands. He has a broad hunting range, and we could find him anywhere. One of the pegasus ponies had an idea of where the ogre calls home, so we'll be having ourselves a good look in that region." 

"Uh, I'm kind of worried," Sundance said. "That same pegasus said that the ogre was four ponies tall." 

"Nonsense." Megara almost spat out the word. "You little ponies are little skittish creatures. Everything is bigger than you are, and you tend to exaggerate how big things are when you're afraid. The ogre can't be twelve feet tall. That's an embellishment. The biggest ogre I've ever encountered was about seven feet or so, and he was so slow and lumbering that he wasn't much of a threat." 

Though he held his tongue, he wanted to argue with Megara's mathematics. Not all ponies were three feet tall. Some of them were a good four feet in height and that wasn't so little, not at all. If you stacked four of those ponies on top of each other, you would have an ogre that was sixteen feet tall. Something about Megara's assumption that ponies were on the shorter side just bothered him, and he tried to stand as tall as possible. 

As he did so, River Raider raised her head and looked down at him, her ribbon of drool still dangling. 

"Sumac told you about the squatters. I know this because he told me that he told you." Eyes now narrow, whiskers a-quiver, something was clearly bothering poor Megara—most likely the smell. "Occasionally, I fly out this way and have a look. But there's too much land and not enough me. I can't keep track of all the new arrivals." 

"Don't feel bad," Sundance said to her, "because it seems that I can't either. I've been so focused on our southern tracks and getting the depot established down there that I haven't even thought about everything up this way." 

"Yeah, well, that needs to change. And it does so today. You'll be doing these ponies a service, Sundance." 

He nodded. 

"Savage Ridge stretches to the south of here. It is a raised elevation and Tarhollow lies beyond. All of the wetlands and marshes drain off of the ridge, forming a fertile patch of land down here. Ponies are naturally drawn to this area… and so is the ogre and everything else that likes to snack on ponies. If I had to guess, we'll find the ogre on the ridge itself. Lots of caves. And boiling springs. Easy to cook meat… if he cooks at all. But the hot springs and steam vents will help him endure the winter, so that's likely where he'll be. That's where we'll focus most of our search, methinks." 

"That seems reasonable, Meg." 

"Thanks, River." 

"Now… one final word before we go…" Megara's words trailed off and caused a horrible sense of dreadful anticipation. "Savage Ridge is known for trolls. A whole lotta trolls. While trolls can live in marshes and wetlands and bogs, they don't like it. There's parasitic moss that feeds on them. Savage Ridge is the outer edge of a natural basin, and it's a moist place, but not a swampy place. What little intelligence I have on the area says it is absolutely infested with trolls. Lousy with trolls. And our ogre won't be in an area swarming with trolls. He'll be in a place where trolls can't reach. Or can't go. At least, that's likely. I can be wrong." 

Sundance gulped, shook his head, then said, "Trolls…" 

"I'd be more worried about the mosswalkers—" 

"What in Equestria is a mosswalker?" Sundance demanded. 

"A troll thoroughly consumed by parasitic moss," Megara replied. "They live deep in bogs and marshes and swamps. Big fuzzy things. Green. Mossy. Ferocious." 

At a loss for words, Sundance tried to calm himself, and failed. 

"Ah, the miracle of magical life. Mosswalkers attack trolls, rip them to pieces, infest those pieces, and new mosswalkers are made. They do keep the troll population in check, but then you have to worry about the mosswalkers. Not much eats them. Nasty, nasty creatures." 

"And an ogre is camping out in the middle of all this nastiness?" asked Sundance. 

"Well, that's what ogres do," Megara replied. "And owlbears, and mosswolves, and all manner of nightmarish flora and fauna. A veritable treasure trove of dangerous wildlife." 

"Oh bother…" 

"Well then, let's be going. We have a lot of ground to cover!" 



 

There was a fertile valley down below and a ragged ridge off to his right. Sundance surveyed all he saw and he kept an eye out for an ogre. If not an ogre, then what might be signs of an ogre—though he had absolutely no idea what those might be. There was a lake at the top of the ridge, a slimy, mucky, gooey lake choked with clots of green goop. Some of the water from the lake spilled over the edge of the gap-toothed ridge and flowed down into the fertile valley. 

This was the general location where the hospital might be built. 

It was wild. Untamed. While a few farms dotted the landscape, it was mostly trees with a patchwork of meadows. Why were there meadows? What made the trees stop growing and allowed the meadows to form? For Sundance, this was a great mystery, something that tickled his imagination. These trees were mostly trees with white bark. He didn't know the name of them, but he found them quite beautiful. 

"Look, Sundance… a hydra." As she spoke, Megara pointed with one extended claw. 

Turning his head, it didn't take him long to spot the enormous creature. Five heads poked up out of the water of the scummy lake. From a distance, the hydra didn't seem so large—but looks were deceiving. While the heads and necks only appeared a few inches tall from this distant perspective, up close they would be big enough to swallow him whole. It occurred to him that he had a lake with a hydra in it, a fact that made him feel curiously small and humble. 

"Hydras are omnivores, surprisingly enough," Megara said to Sundance as they flew. "They eat trolls. And mosswalkers. They also eat owlbears and other big predators. Their diet is mostly megafauna and megaflora. That hydra is probably doing you a favour and trimming back the dangerous troll population. Some ponies speculate, my father included, that a hydra's diet of trolls allows for their rapid regeneration. It is a hotly debated topic amongst naturalists." 

With his head still turned off to his right, Sundance watched as the five heads all submerged and vanished into the sludgy water. From this far away, the hydra didn't seem so dangerous. It was just minding its own business and trying to survive. But, if a hospital were built in this general location, a hydra would be an unwelcome visitor. With acute sadness, he realised that such a creature might have to be hunted down, and it would fall upon his own withers to give the order. 

Suddenly, and quite without warning, the construction of the hospital didn't seem like such a simple thing. There was complexity yet unaccounted for. Things he didn't have answers for. But things he needed to have a good think about. He began to suspect that Megara had an ulteriour motive for the ogre hunt, that it was just an excuse to lure him out this way. What did she expect from him? Or, perhaps it wasn't her. Perhaps it had more to do with Sumac, or Pebble—or possibly somepony that he had no awareness of at all. 

"There's no signs of a large ogre smashing a path through the trees," River Raider said. "Things that large leave a trace of their passing. I ain't seen nothing. While the rest of you are sightseeing, I've been busy trying to track our prey… and my eyes say that he doesn't exist. Which means, in no uncertain terms, that we're dealing with a clever ogre." 

"Impossible," Megara spat out. "Ogres aren't clever." 

"Neither are manticores, Meg. They're big stupid brutes, but they make nice rugs." 

"Why I oughta—" 

River Raider interrupted with, "Shut up and think before saying something dumb?" 

"Yeah, I oughta do that. Alright. So… for the sake of argument, if we have a clever ogre, how is he travelling through this area without leaving a trace of his passing?" 

"I dunno, Meg… but it bothers me. I don't like the idea of a clever ogre. Not at all. They're big. Brutish. Typically, they just plow right through the area in a straight line, smashing and bashing at things in their way. You'll find broken trees and paths ripped through the vegetation. But down below… there's nothing. Nothing at all. If there's an ogre here, and I know for certain that those ponies weren't lying, there should be something to mark his passing." 

"You seem bothered, River." 

"You're damn right I'm bothered, Meg. Clever ogres are scary." 

"So… ogres leave behind visible trails… mostly straight lines?" asked Sundance as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. 

"Yeah," River Raider replied. 

"And if you spot enough of those trails, you can use the straight lines to figure out where the ogre lives, can't you?" he asked. 

With a nod and a grunt, River Raider responded, "You know, Sundance… you might not be considered smart, but you're canny and competent. Sometimes… sometimes… canny and competent are better than smart. You examine the lines and then try to determine where they might intersect." 

"He's using the creeks and rivers," Hornet said. 

Again, River Raider grunted, and this time she sent a snort of smoke trailing out of her nostrils, which then vanished into her mane. "Huh. I hadn't considered that. So we want a suitable lair location near a water source that branches off into a bunch of waterways, I guess?" 

"It's what I would do," Hornet said, her voice unusually subdued and maybe just a little bit sad. "If I had to infiltrate an area, and I wasn't allowed to fly, I would shapeshift into an aquatic animal and attempt to use the water to my advantage. I… I don't know how I know this. Or why it seems so obvious to me. But I feel bad for thinking about it." 

"Don't feel bad," Sundance said to the unsettled changeling. "Don't be sad or upset about what you are. You just saved us a lot of trouble. Probably. This doesn't make you a bad bug. This knowledge doesn't make you bad. It's what you do with it." He cleared his throat, focused his thoughts, and flew closer to Hornet. "Where would you hide if you didn't want to be found, Hornet? If you see a location that makes you start thinking, you tell us. Alright?" 

She nodded, then replied, "Can do." 

"Sundance is right," River Raider said to Hornet. "Don't be ashamed to use your innate abilities for good. You are a changeling. You are an infiltrator. That is your nature… but it doesn't make you bad. Right now, you have a chance to save lives. You can do it. All of today, you'd been blocking stuff out to help shield my mind and it's been great. Not perfect, not yet, but it's made a difference. I'm actually enjoying myself for once. You… you can make a difference. Be a better 'ling." 

"Don't be a ding-a-'ling." Hornet inhaled, green witchfire flashed around her equine form, and her expression became one of steadfast determination. "We should find farmhouses and farms near waterways. Which are probably most farms, because they need water. If I'm right, they might know something about our ogre. So we should ask around." 

"I like this," Megara said. "Sundance… you have a precious asset. Let's see what she can do… and you as well. Let's go find us a farmhouse!" 
> Getting to know the locals
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This farm wasn't anything like Sundance imagined a farm to be. There were crops, but not food crops. Ingredients of some kind, if he had to make a guess. Several huge vats stood out, and from these vats wafted a rather eye-watering stench. It wasn't the worst thing that Sundance had smelt, not by a long shot, but it did smell like rotting fish—which made it particularly unpleasant. Even to Sundance, who knew very little about the subject, it was obvious this was a place devoted to alchemy. 

His job, at the moment, was to keep quiet so that Megara could do her job. Beyond that, his job was to pay attention, so that one day, perhaps someday rather soon, he could do the same job that Megara was currently doing. Which is to say, keeping others safe. Slowly but surely, he began to understand and appreciate Megara's job—but there was so much to do. How did Megara keep up with it all? And now, she had more than doubled her workload in an effort to help him and teach him to do—well, everything. 

Overall, it was intimidating, and made Sundance wonder if perhaps he should hire somepony for this job. He might very well have bitten off more than he could chew, but remained committed to this course of action. Even if he did hire somepony for this job later, he would understand and appreciate the effort required to do this job well. Ultimately, whatever he did, whatever he committed to, this would make him a better ruler, so he resigned himself to his task. 

"I've seen this ogre you're after." 

The unicorn was clean. Well groomed. Fastidious and soft-spoken. Clearly educated. If he was afraid of Megara and River Raider, he didn't show it in the slightest. His name, curiously enough, was Scab, and he was a resident living within the barony's borders. A squatter, but deserving of protection all the same. 

Nearby, a vat wooshed and released a cloud of steam. Less than a second later, the fishy smell grew overpowering and Sundance struggled against his rising gorge. He hated his companions just a little, because they didn't seem bothered by the stench—not even in the slightest. 

"He came out this way a few weeks ago. I applied some chemical deterrent and he departed with all haste." 

"Chemical deterrent?" Eyes a-glitter, ears pricked, Megara's face showed interest. 

"I'm an alchemist by trade and training," the unicorn replied. 

"An alchemist?" Tail swishing, Megara continued with her many questions. "What's an alchemist doing way out here? Anything dangerous?" 

"All alchemy is dangerous," Scab replied. "What I do, specifically, is make fertiliser and pesticides for the farmers. That's what pays the bills. But that's not my passion." 

Scab seemed eager to explain himself… 

"And what is your passion, might I ask?" 

"Finding a cure for sleep!" A feverish gleam appeared in the unicorn's eyes. "So much of our lives are lost to the debilitating disease of sleep. I've made it my life's work to find a cure! Just imagine what we could accomplish if we overthrew the tyranny of sleep. Just imagine the production! Factories churning out goods night and day! Workers with no fatigue… scholars whose eyes never grow weary! What great things we could accomplish if sleep did not hold us back from our potential!" 

"Why does a blacksmith work with blueprints?" asked Hornet. 

Almost right away, the manic, fervent gleam vanished from Scab's eyes and was replaced with something utterly unrecognisable. After a prolonged period of confused recovery, a wordless grunt of questioning could be heard from him. Sundance too, suffered a moment of incertitude and wondered if perhaps Hornet was trying to tell some sort of joke to diffuse the situation. Why did a blacksmith work with blueprints? Also bewildered, Megara cast a sidelong glance at the not-pegasus, but had nothing to say. 

"So the ogre came out a few weeks ago?" asked Megara. 

"Yep." Scab nodded. "He's lucky that I chased him off. I have daughters, five of them. All of them were raised to be alchemists, and all of them have a keen interest in explosives. Finding new ways to make things to bang or boom. If the ogre had stumbled into them…" As his words trailed off, his eyebrows raised and his eyes widened, as if he were witnessing some dreadful sight. 

Then, as an afterthought, he added, "The gals get that from their mother. My wife… she dabbles in alchemy, and she also makes wands. There's good wood in this area. Unique wood. Good wood for making foci. The wife learned alchemy so that the wood could get treated. Make it stiff. Rigid. Hardened. A wand has to endure a lot of stress." 

Barely able to keep a straight face, Sundance chewed his lip and remained quiet. 

"I have to know," Hornet said, her tone soft and unassuming, "Why would a loving parent name their offspring 'Scab'?" 

Distracted for only a moment, Scab was quick to recover. He looked down at Hornet, who looked up at him, and said, "It's short for Scabbard. I was born with a caul over my head. My mother thought it to be some manner of superstitious omen." 

"Oh, I see. Thank you." 

"Don't mention it, Miss." 

"This ogre… he hasn't been back?" asked Megara. 

"No." Scab grinned and the fevered gleam reignited in his eyes. "The big brute has a sensitive nose. The chemical deterrent, it smelled bad. He went running off, clawing at his nose and bellowing something in ogrish. Which is really just a series of unintelligible beast noises, but I understood the gist of his crude communications. Hasn't returned, so I can claim the deterrent was a success. I plan to cook up a batch and trade it. Safety in a bottle." 

Alchemists, Sundance decided, had to have an eye kept on them—Corduroy included. 

"How's business?" asked Megara. "Selling your goods, I mean. Profitable?" 

One of Scab's eyes narrowed, while the other one widened. He squinted at Megara, refusing to look away, as if he were sizing her up or reading her character. "Checking up on me, are you? I'm not one to brag about the size of my brain pan, but I know who you are. I know who he is. Ready to soak me for taxes now, are you?" 

"You know who I am?" asked Sundance, who now felt a growing sense of alarm. What dreadful miasmas might be unleashed as baron repellant? He had every right to worry. 

"I have a radio," Scab replied. "Wasn't hard to sort out. Though… the radio describes you as a big, burly, majestic fellow. Which you're not." 

Upon hearing this, Sundance's mouth pressed into a tight, firm, straight line while his nostrils flared wide. 

"I'll admit to squatting," Scab said directly to Sundance. "Everypony else was, and so I thought I would as well. The old lord never came out this way, and to be honest, I was starting to think that you wouldn't either. Now comes the tricky business of figuring out how to stay here." 

It took Sundance a moment to unkink his face, and when he did, he replied, "Well… I have no intentions of making you leave. I want you to stay." 

"So you can bleed me for taxes, I reckon." Scab scowled and shook his head. "We deal in trade, mostly. Not much coin. You'll find that's true for most of us. We wouldn't be out here squatting and trying to scratch out an existence if we had coin. We trade for everything and rely upon each other to survive. So if you can't tax us, what do you plan to do?" 

"Go and beat up an ogre," Sundance replied. 

Brows deeply furrowed, Scab was now confused. 

"You live on my lands. An ogre threatens you. Threatens your trade. Your survival. Something must be done." 

"Huh." Wary, squinting, Scab studied Sundance with dubious caution. "I'm guessing that you're willing to trade for our continued stay. Can't say that I have much to offer that you'd be interested in. I could give you a daughter—" 

"What?" Sundance, alarmed, spat out the word before he choked on it. 

"You could take your pick," Scab continued, his face now a mask of shrewd cunning. "Trained alchemists, all of them. Feisty. Fiery. Especially Firecracker. She's a firecracker. When she got a firecracker as her mark, I knew she'd be trouble, and I—" 

"No! No, no, no! This is unacceptable!" 

"Well, I don't have anything else that's valuable." 

"I don't want one of your daughters, sir." 

"Well, why not?" Scab demanded. "I made them. Trained them. Schooled them. Raised them. I know their value." 

"You just… you just can't trade away one of your daughters. What is it exactly you expect me to do with her?" 

"Well, you could marry her—" 

"What if she doesn't want to be married?" asked Sundance, who felt panic rising within him. 

"Oh, she does. She was asking about a husband just the other day. And by asking, I mean threatening me with the prospect of mayhem if I don't do something soon. I told you she was a firecracker." 

"I… wait… what?" Stammering, Sundance couldn't form a proper sentence to save his life. 

"If not marriage, I'm sure you could find other uses for her. She's worth her weight in gold. And feed. Oh by the ancient alicorns, how she can eat. I won't go as far as to say that she's fat, but she's like her mother… pleasantly plump and—" 

"I can't believe that I'm having this conversation," Sundance blurted out. 

"You're noble for facing the ogre, and I appreciate that… but you're also a bit rude—" 

"Rude‽" Stiff-legged, Sundance had trouble keeping his wings at his sides. 

"Aside from all these interruptions, my daughters clearly don't meet your lofty standards." 

Hearing this, Sundance's mouth fell open and all he could do was just stand there. 

"Look, I love my daughters. More than you know. And when a golden opportunity comes along for one of them to have a good life, I'm going to take it. They deserve better than to be farm-wives. They can read. Write. Do complex maths. I've spent the whole of my life preparing them to be the best possible unicorns they can be. You show up with your retinue of guards because you're important… how could I not want that for my daughter?" 

Heaving a gasp, Sundance deflated. 

"Sir… Scab… there's been a bit of a misunderstanding." River Raider moved closer, hesitated for but a second, and then closed the distance. "Please… allow me to sort this out for you and explain the situation. This can be sorted out. And if Firecracker wants to come and live with us, she can. She's more than welcome. And Sundance will look after her just like he looks after all of the others in his care. But he's not noble… not in the traditional sense. He's just some dumb pegasus from the city. What you've said has discombobulated his poor little brain. The very idea of trading lives is unfamiliar to him. And arranged marriages. And everything else you said.

"Also, we're not his guards. Megara is his teacher. Well, I suppose Hornet is now his guard, but that was just sorted out this morning, so it really hasn't settled in just yet. This is her first day on the job, and the ogre hunt is for training. I'm here because Nutmeg made me come. Otherwise, I'd be at home. And I guess I'm also here to save Sundance if he gets into trouble, like he is right now. So… are you willing to listen? Good. Allow me to sort this out…" 



 

Purpose. Sundance understood purpose. He knew why Megara did all of this and allowed this to happen. Each of them had a purpose, a role to play. Sorting that out was the real trick, the hard part, the sort of thing that some ponies spent the entirety of their lives trying to accomplish. Megara didn't have a lifetime. She had deadlines. Results had to happen quickly. Rather than just teach him, and hope that everything sank in, today, she had shown him. 

Through action, word, and deed, she had shown him how to be authoritative. How to connect to others. This whole interaction with Scab, it was a means for him to learn. How to govern. More than being a ruler, Sundance had to be fair. No easy task. While River Raider spoke with Scab—she liked talking, at least if his own experience was anything to go by—Sundance made an effort to sort out each of the lessons so far. 

While Scab and others like him lived with stubborn independence, they still needed him. There were ogres in the world. While Scab had five daughters that were by all accounts, quite scary, none of them had gone out to slay the ogre. They remained at home. Together. No doubt hoping that the ogre would not return. The ogre was some other farmer's problem, so long as it stayed away. Such was life, and Sundance understood this in much the same way he understood purpose. 

Megara's purpose was to hunt down ogres. Because farmers farmed, and alchemists did whatever it was that alchemists did. He thought about his own peasants, the owlbear, and Cucumber's death. While the others had made an effort to fight—a noble effort in Sundance's eyes—it was Cucumber who'd battled. The peasants were farmers—Cucumber was a soldier. He was old, and frail, and feeble, and probably couldn't see very well, and his knees ached, and his back gave him fits—but when trouble came, Cucumber was ready. Trouble was not ready for Cucumber. But the old unicorn was gone, and sorely missed. 

Yes, Sundance understood purpose. Megara was trying to prepare him for that. The world was his classroom, and ogres his assignments. There was a purpose, a reason for everything that Megara did, and it was his purpose to figure it out. That was the lesson. He'd spent his life being meek. Submissive. Good natured. Soft spoken. But now was the time to roar like a monster. To rain down death from the skies. It was time for ogres to live in fear, in terror of the swift approaching storm. 

But to become the storm, first he had to learn how to thunder… 



 

"So… nothing changes," Scab said. 

"No," River Raider replied. "Nothing changes. Spread the word." 

"And the money situation…" 

"Isn't a situation." River Raider was patient. Calm. Composed. 

She was almost a stranger to Sundance, who had never seen her this way before. 

"The goal of the barony is to move away from currency and to provide. For now, just keep going as you are. Trade and be fair to one another. In time, when there is more organisation, there may be some changes. But nothing drastic. We do not wish to take anything away from you, such as your lands." 

"And if we need help?" asked Scab. 

"Dispatch a pegasus to Castle Daybreak. We'll do what we can… but please, be patient and understand that we're still working to get everything established. But, if help is needed, help will be given." 

"I must confess, I like the sounds of this." Thoughtful, perhaps hopeful, Scab nodded. "I'm willing to contribute, if necessary. I can make fertilisers and pesticides easy enough. Not sure how to transport them, but I can make them. And I have daughters ready to serve, if necessary. I find myself in a peculiar place… I thought that stuff on the radio about Equestria's neo-feudalism was a bunch of hooey. But after what you've said… after all that you've said, Miss… I find myself wanting to be part of something bigger." 

"Help us," River Raider said to him. "Spread the word to others. Get organised." 

"Townstead," Sundance said. "I have no idea how to do it, but I know it can be done." 

"You'd let us do that on your lands?" asked Scab. 

"Yes!" Sundance spoke with a little too much enthusiasm. 

"Well, alright then. I'll talk to the others. Good luck with the ogre hunt. If you ask me, I think he's off near Sorrow's Fen. Some great earth pony hero named Artax died there. Difficult for a pony to traverse, but probably not a problem for an ogre. Have a good look around that area. Watch out though, there's a lot of trolls out that way." 

"Thank you." Sundance bowed his head, and when he didn't feel as though that was enough, he bowed just a little lower. "Without hard working ponies such as yourself, I wouldn't have a barony. We're all in this together. Now, if you will excuse us, we have to go and deal with an ogre while there is still daylight." 

"Best of luck… and good hunting, I suppose." 

"Again, thank you." Lifting is head, Sundance offered up a smile worthy of his great grandmother, a thing of beauty and light. "Let us be off," he said to his companions. "There is much to do!" 
> The wallowing willow
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorrow's Fen was the lowest part of the lowlands. Runoff from the bogs on the other side of Savage Ridge poured down into the fen, and a great and mighty river from the north reached for the fen with hundreds of slender fingers. There was a sort of delta here, and so many farms that Sundance could not hope to keep count. The waterways were used to move goods, very much like the canals in Fillydelphia, and from way up on high he could see ponies pulling barges. Looking down on all of it, Sundance reached but one conclusion: this was the perfect hunting ground for a clever ogre. 

It was a cold swamp; one that did not bubble or boil. But hot water poured down in steaming waterfalls that flowed around the toothlike protrusions of rock that was the ridge. To Sundance, it appeared very much like a slavering maw, but without the upper part of the head. This land was fertile. The black soil the highlands of his barony were known for could be seen down here in the lowlands. This was a rich place. Not rich with money, but rich with soil and promise. It was something that would need to be secured as soon as possible—and more so now than previously, he understood why Megara brought him out this way. 

"There's so many," he said as he drifted, held aloft by hot updrafts. 

"More than I thought," Megara replied. "It's been a while since I was last out this way." 

"I've known about this for quite some time. Used to hunt here." 

"And you didn't tell me, River?" Sundance dared to ask. 

"You didn't ask," she replied. "And you didn't seem interested." 

He started to say something, but swallowed his angry retort. 

"Be angry if you want, but you've been focused on what you have and your holdings to the south. Overwhelmed by all of it, even. You've shown no interest at all in your northern holdings. It does not occupy your thoughts." 

"You're right," Sundance admitted. 

"I know I am. I wouldn't've said it otherwise. You tend to have a very narrow focus. Which seems contradictory for a pegasus." 

"Do I really?" he asked. 

"You do," she replied. 

"Well, thank you for telling me. I'll take this into consideration in the future." 

"I'm being quite rude about it… you could shout at me, you know. At least push back a little. Show some aggression. But no… just more of your disgusting goodness on display for all to see. It's nauseating." 

A harsh silence followed, and no one said anything. An itch inside of Sundance's brain told him that there were thoughts though, though he had no idea what they might be, or if they were good or bad. He studied the land below, but was distracted. River Raider had called him out on poor leadership—and while he was a bit put off about it—he couldn't tell her that she was wrong. She'd done him a favour, really. Told him the harsh truth. His thoughts turned to Argyle, and what he'd said about a leader being responsible for things when they happened. 

An ogre had happened, and Sundance was responsible. 

Just as Argyle was responsible for the goings on in Beantown. The distance didn't matter, nor did the secretive malice of the asylum. Sundance found himself at a loss for what to think of himself at this moment. His lands were far too large for him to effectively patrol—so there would be losses. There was very little he could do for the foreseeable future, except for listen to what Megara had to say and learn from her. These ponies deserved better, and Sundance knew that he was obligated. 

"It's hard for you to take all of this on," River Raider said, her tone considerably softer. "You barely even understand what you're getting into, but you still care so much. Why? Why have so much feeling for it? I can see inside your head… but not your heart. This is a mystery to me." 

"For the same reason why I care about you and took you in," he said to her in response. 

There was no answer from River Raider… just an itch inside of his brain. 

"You think males only want one thing from females, and right now you can't process this exchange," Hornet said to River Raider. "The mystery that you can't understand is that he helps others and wants nothing in return. You can't conceive of such a thing. You've been conditioned by your expectations. Hurt by them. I can sense the wound in your mind. You really and truly can't conceive of goodness for the sake of goodness." 

"No I can't." She spat out the words as if they tasted awful and then River Raider went silent once more. 

"Your kind are brutes," Hornet said, now treading into dangerous territory. "Aggressive. Volatile. They are nasty and mean… but behave well because of conditioning. You see past all of that and understand you and your species for what they really are. And others, I suppose. You should come and spend some time with us changelings. We're trying to sort out what went wrong so we can make ourselves better. The ultimate in group therapy. But with a hivemind. Maybe we could help you." 

It was quiet again, but that didn't mean that there was no communication. A silent exchange took place between River Raider and Hornet. The two telepaths were having some kind of meaningful discourse, a direct exchange of thoughts. River Raider didn't appear quite so grumpy, though Sundance couldn't say exactly what it was about her that made this so. A softness that marred her hardness, perhaps. 

He wanted them to be friends. To be close. Even if he was just a tiny bit jealous of them. He'd been first to approach the dangerous beast. Through much effort he tried to gain her trust. When she spoke, he listed—and goodness did she ever have a lot to say when she opened up. So much effort spent on his part… and Hornet seemed to have done more in a day than he had in all this time. But that was fine, even if it stung a little. 

Friendships were tricky business, as Twilight Sparkle would no doubt tell him. 

Perhaps what one gained was equal to or greater than what one gave away. 

"This seems like the place we should focus our search," Megara said. "There's lots of food here. A serial killer walks the streets. And by streets, I mean all these creeks and brooks and tributaries. It's perfect for hiding his tracks. I'm guessing that he can just ambush ponies on the banks while they're pulling a load. That leaves them vulnerable, and all tangled up in tack. Probably can't get away." 

In acknowledgment, Sundance nodded; what Megara said made sense. 

"Lots of wheat and oats and corn here," the manticoress continued, sharing her thoughts aloud. "You know, Sundance… you could feed a lot of ponies with all this grain. Wouldn't be right to just come and take it… though, that's your right to do so if you should so please… but I am pretty certain that you could coax them into giving some of it to you if you gave them something in return." 

"And that would be?" he asked. 

"That's for you to sort out," she replied. "Think of it as your homework." 

"Right. Got it." He was learning how to rule. How to baron. Baroning was simple, if you didn't mind being a jerk. But Sundance was not a jerk, and took exception to jerkitude. Besides. He saw himself more as an administrator. These ponies were more than capable of managing their own affairs. He was an executive… of Sunfire Incorporated. That complicated things a bit, but the goals and the outcome were the same. 

But… these ponies represented a substantial increase in paperwork. 



 

"Stop!" Even as River Raider shouted out a warning, she began to circle. "I sense a mind! Not a pony mind… something else… something grotesque and simple. Stay alert!" 

Rather than think about the danger, Sundance began to wonder if River Raider could hover. She was too heavy and her batlike wings were too different. It was now obvious to him why Megara had forcefully dragged River Raider along. She could sense minds—such as ogre minds—and that made their hunt so much easier. If they had the ogre, then the job was mostly done. All they had to do was the dirty business of killing him and then off they pronked. 

Or flew, as the case may be. 

"Wha'd'ya have, River?" asked Megara, who also began to circle. 

"Something vicious. Hungry. It's foul… slimy. Yes, it is slimy." 

"Slimy?" Megara circled with River Raider, matching her for every wingbeat. 

"Yeah, slimy. I don't think it's an ogre. It's something… gross." 

"Well, find it. And we'll give it the business if we can. It's way too close to ponies. There's a farm right over there. And there. And over there, too." 

"I don't sense anything," Hornet said. 

"Well, I do… I do…" Banking slightly, River Raider began her decent and ribbons of smoke flowed from her nostrils. "It's faint. Barely intelligent. It's barely even a mind… I've felt this before… I know I have…" 

Hovering in place, Sundance turned his sharp eyes upon the situation—but saw nothing out of the ordinary. There was murky water, trees, tall swaying grass that rippled in the wind, some sort of berry bushes… and what he didn't see—or in this instance, hear—alarmed him. There were no birds. Nothing chirped. It was quiet, too quiet. This sudden realisation caused the hairs along his scars to rise and there was a cold, clammy sensation in his guts that he didn't like, not at all. 

"Sundance is aware of it too," River Raider said, almost hissing. "Meg?" 

"I got nuttin'," she replied. 

Down near the water now, River Raider flew true to her namesake. She was agile for being such a bulky creature, easily flitting between trees while moving at terrific speeds. Sundance swooped in to follow her, and then was joined by both Hornet and Megara. The changeling did fine in the tangle of trees, but Megara was hindered by the overgrowth. For Sundance, it was a learning experience, and he began to understand their strengths as fliers. 

"There." River Raider almost spat out the word as she pointed with her raised left hoof. 

"There?" All that Sundance saw was a willow tree. At least, he thought it was a willow. He wasn't terribly familiar with trees in general, but this one resembled what he thought a willow should be. It was a bit short, with dull, mossy bark, and long drooping limbs. 

Just as the willow came to life and began to move, River Raider shouted, "Troll! Pull up!" 

The long dropping limbs became wildly waving whips, all of which reached for Sundance. He flew backwards, a neat trick, and zoomed away before the flailing limbs even got close. River Raider too, was shockingly fast, and she veered away as the willow troll's maw creaked open. Megara was not so lucky, and she swiped with her claws at the advancing whips. As for Hornet—she buzzed away at incredible speed. 

"Crap, I've been trolled!" Megara roared. 

"I told you it was slimy!" shouted River Raider as she began to circle around. 

"My father told me I'd get trolled if I wasn't careful!" Megara yanked and pulled as the reaching willow whips began to wrap around her forelegs. "Argh! A little help here!" 

The willow troll stood right on the edge of the murky water, no doubt just waiting for a meal to go by. It was low effort trolling, but undoubtedly effective. Otherwise, why would the troll bother? Snatching up unwary passersby was no doubt the dream of every troll and Sundance learned himself a valuable lesson as Megara became entangled: don't get trolled. 

Veering around, River Raider leveled herself out and then flew right for the troll. Alarmed, Sundance watched, but was unsure of what to do to help. From the looks of things, Megara was in trouble, and she was being overpowered. For every flailing limb she swiped, slashed, or sliced with her claws, more grew to replace them. For all of her might and prowess, she could not get free, and with a splash, she fell into the swampy water. 

Hornet flew in closer, but like Sundance, she didn't know what to do. She flew in circles, and somehow stayed just out of reach of the lashing willow whips. Sundance swooped in and began to do the same, hoping to keep the troll at least somewhat busy. He wasn't quite as fast as Hornet, but he wasn't slow like Megara. As for River Raider, she neared the end of her strafing run. 

Turning her head off to one side, River Raider belched—and a massive gout of flame spewed forth along with an absolutely disgusting, gurgly sound. She had to be careful, because she was not fire-proof. So shooting off to one side made sense, rather than risk flying into her own fiery conflagration. The troll ignited and within seconds, its body was completely engulfed in flames. Unfortunately, River Raider flew too close and she too found herself surrounded by fire. 

Sundance, who almost cried out in terror, watched as River Raider submerged herself in the muck. She plopped right in and was gone. A second later, she came shooting up out of the sludgy water, smouldering and steaming but seemingly unharmed. Just a bit scorched, with a few patches of hair missing. Laughing maniacally, dripping slime, she hurried away from the troll, who was now quite consumed by flames. 

Meanwhile, Megara clawed herself free and swam away to escape. 

The troll burned; it hissed and popped all while it made a terrible keening wail of agony. Sundance felt bad for it, but not too bad. After all, the troll had trolled them, Megara most of all, and had no doubt eaten more than a few ponies. It fell into the river, but even partially submerged, it continued to burn. An oil slick appeared on the surface of the water, gleaming with all of the colours of the rainbow, until it too ignited and began to burn. Troll blood, it seemed, was just that flammable, if it could be called blood at all. 

Parts of it splashed and thrashed, but all that did was fan the flames. Sundance saw it's open maw and its curious thorny teeth. Its barky tongue slithered like a serpent and one eye peered out from a cloud of fiery Tartarian fury. As for the other eye, it was submerged beneath the water—which did nothing to save it from its terrible fate. Trolls were flammable, and deserved to burn for trolling others. Flaming them was the only way to be rid of trolls, and Sundance took this lesson to heart. 

"I am River Raider! The raider of rivers!" She circled overhead, bellowing with fury. "I've been burning trolls out of existence since I was a fledgling! I'll not be bested by the likes of you! The waterways are mine! Mine and not yours! Look skyward and be afraid! Now die, and leave my mind in peace!" 

She was having a moment, Sundance realised. And rightfully so, she deserved to have a moment of glory, or whatever it was that she partook in right now. Perhaps she was showing dominance. Or this was some ritual for her kind. She was filthy, scummy, slimy, filth-ridden, and glorious. In this moment, River Raider was perfect, and she was beautiful. 

With the sun directly overhead, she was an object of worship. 
> Bad, bad company
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was beautiful in the way that butterflies were mysterious. Which is to say River Raider's beauty was comparable to how butterflies flew, unknown and incomprehensible. Her laughter—a rare thing—was a treasured sound to his ears. Even covered in filth and soaked with mud, everything about her lit his senses ablaze and Sundance could not help but be smitten. At this moment, so many things happened, but they barely registered in his mind because all of his thoughts were on her. 

"That's quite a crowd," Hornet said as she and her companions gained altitude. "Shouldn't we introduce ourselves, or something?" 

"No," Megara grunted whilst she slung mud from her limbs. "If we stay and talk with those ponies, we'll never find our ogre. Remain goal-oriented." 

"But… it feels more important to get to know the locals," Hornet replied. 

"We started off today with a task in mind. As important as it is to get to know the locals, it is even more important to finish what we've started." 

"But… Meg… they might tell us where the ogre is," Hornet retorted. 

"We'll spend too much time doing questions and answers," Megara snapped back. "That's a lot of ponies that came out to have themselves a look. Too many. We might get invited to lunch… and do you have any idea how hard it is to say no to that many sad faces?" 

"Well, I might've found out if you'd've let us stay," Hornet replied. "How can we help them if we don't get to know them?" 

"We'll help them by ridding them of that ogre! Now let's skedaddle, Ladybug!" 



 

On the ridge above Sorrow's Fen and a bit off to the east was a forest. Not just any forest, but a forest that bordered the marshes and seemed to stretch all the way to the mountains far south. Somewhere off in that general direction was home. Megara seemed to think that the ogre lived in the woods, and Sundance was inclined to agree. It was but a short climb down the ridge and into the fen, and from there, there were a great many waterways to choose from. Something in his mind, down deep where it sometimes itched, told him that this was the most likely place. The trees would conceal the ogre from flying creatures up above—but there were a lot of trees. An ocean of trees. Trees from horizon to horizon. 

But… Megara suspected that he lived close to the ridge. 

Sundance hoped so. 

Still in some kind of mood, River Raider flew in circles and loops, barrel rolls, and random, sudden drives. Unable to help himself, Sundance watched her. Her joy, if this was joy, was infectious. She was River Raider, the raider of rivers, troll-slayer, and mighty hunter. At least for the moment, she was not the moody, depressed, out-of-sorts chatterbox that he knew her to be. With her wings healed, restored, she was free to fly. Free to hunt. She was free to be herself. 

"River, you think that you'll be able to pick up on the ogre's mind?" asked Megara. 

"So long as he's not hiding away in some cave underground," she replied. 

"That'd be a problem, yes." Scowling, her whiskers quivering, Megara tried to wipe some mud away from her chocolate brown hide, but only made things worse when she smeared it. "I think I see something of a trail going up the cliffside. Over there. See, if you look close, you'll see that it goes behind that waterfall. Pretty good concealment." 

"Yeah, I see it," River Raider replied. 

Sundance too, also saw it, and he banked so he could go inspect it. 

"Good initiative, Sundance. Put those pegasus peepers to work!" 

"Laying it on a bit thick, Nutmeg—" 

"Shut it, River. Sundance needs encouragement when he does right. How else will he learn?" 

"By bleeding when he makes mistakes," was River Raider's response. 

"If we do our jobs right," Megara retorted, "he doesn't bleed. We have to keep him safe. That's our job." 

"He's not as soft as you assume, Nutmeg. Pegasus ponies are made of sterner stuff. Even the so-called soft ones. A few lumps'll toughen them right up." 

"Yeah," Sundance shouted, because it was time to stick up for himself. "We're quick to harden." 

"I could've gone all day without hearing that," River Raider said. 

Though it took him several seconds to sort it out, he did realise the double-meaning in what he had said—and had very mixed feelings about it. While he wanted to feel bad for what he'd said, he also found it quite funny. A bit too funny, in fact, and he couldn't hold back his laughter, which slipped out in chortles and snorts. Beside him, Hornet—who had her hooves pressed against her cheeks—giggled like an over-excited school filly.

The trail was a bit more than expected. Upon his closer inspection, Sundance knew that said trail was not a natural occurrence, but rather, something created. There were hewn logs in places, doing whatever it was that hewn logs did. It was wide enough for a cart, flat enough to be traversable, and even had a rotting wooden rail that survived in a few spots. It was a bit steep, but not too bad, and switchbacked in advantageous places. This was made, though for what purpose was unknown. The quality of the construction was such that it had endured. 

"Hey, Meg… come have a look at this," he said to the manticoress. "There's guardrails still. And logs. This was made." 

"So it was," she replied as she drew closer. 

"Huh, look at that. I bet that's from the old days." River Raider too, flew close. "I'm thinking that cart convoys went up and down the ridge and crossed the fen somehow so that there was access to the river. Lots of wood up here. Maybe a lumber camp? Firewood? Food?" 

"I bet our ogre uses it… which means we're close. Keep those eyeballs peeled. We don't know if he has a ranged weapon. Don't wanna be ambushed. Stay alert and watch for trouble… don't get brained. Let's crest this ridge and see what we can see." 



 

Just where did the water go? Whilst he circled, his eyes in search of any detail that stood out, Sundance could not help but wonder where the water went. The river flowed right into the fen, and then there was no more river. The bogs above the ridge poured over the edge, down into the fen below, so a lot of water flowed into the fen. But where did it go? The water had to go somewhere, he reasoned. The laws of nature dictated that the fen should grow in size, but it wasn't that large, all things considered. Oh, it was big enough, but for the amount of water that poured into it, it really should have been so much larger. 

So, where did it go? 

He thought of the waterfall back home, and how there was a crack in the bottom of the natural basin that acted as a drain. Water that didn't go down the drain flowed through Floodgate's many irrigation channels. In the spring, with the thaw, they had to worry about flooding. But the water could be accounted for. Sorrow's Fen however, was a mystery to Sundance, and it bothered him a great deal that he didn't know where the water went. 

This was a hot place, as evidenced by the geysers and steam plumes that rose up out of the boiling, bubbling bog at the top of the ridge. Some of the geysers shot up for one-hundred feet or more. A line of mudpots could be seen on the bog's edge, and the trees closest to the bog were splattered and encrusted with colourful yellow and orange mud. It was almost festive, if it weren't so lethally hot. As for the main waterfall, the water that went over the edge seemed teakettle hot, which is to say that it steamed all the way down until it reached the cold fen below. 

Travelling the trail tucked behind the waterfall seemed rather hazardous. 

"Sorrow's Fen is one of the lowest elevations in Equestria," River Raider said to him. "Something like over four-hundred and fifty feet below sea level. Froggy Bottom Bogg is similar. All the water collects in these natural drains and then goes down into aquifers down below." 

"How do you know this?" he asked, intrigued by this new side of River Raider that he hadn't seen. 

"I paid attention in school," she replied. "Well, it's more than that I suppose. After I became the raider of rivers, I developed an obsessive fascination with waterways. And rivers. Go figure. I studied them with the same relentless drive that I have when I hunt. It was the only thing I really had any sort of interest in when I was in school. I couldn't be made to care about anything else." 

He nodded and listened. 

"This whole area is a big crater," she continued. "The ridge here, and the other ridges, those are all leftover ripples. It's too big to see from where we're at, but if we flew up to the very edge of the sky, where the air is cold and almost nonexistent, you'd be able to see it if I pointed it out. The series of ridges form a natural… well, it is like a staircase. You can see the next ridge from here if you squint. And there's even more between here and the mountains. In all of Equestria's history, nopony has ever settled in this area because the terrain is so unforgiving. From this ridge onward to the mountains, it's all wilderness. Some of Equestria's most dangerous, most hostile wilderness. And it's all yours." 

"And that's Tarhollow off in that direction," he said as he pointed in the general direction of the Canterhorn. "The big patch of nothing that exists between my settlement and Lulamoon Hollow. Well, at least I'm starting to learn the names of the regions. That's a good start, I suppose." 

"We need to start hunting the ogre!" Megara snapped. "Now look alive! We have prey to eliminate!" 



 

"Fly sneaky," Megara hissed. 

To which Sundance replied, "How do I fly sneaky?" 

"Well"—the manticoress' voice dropped into an even lower, hissier whisper—"you start by shutting yer yap. Stick close to the trees. Don't present yourself as a target. Don't fly out in the open." 

Saying nothing, Sundance flew even closer to the trees, which was no trouble at all. He looked this-a-way, and that-a-way, and for the first time he noticed the broken branches, as if something large had moved between the trees. Something big. Big. Some of the branches were broken off at a good ten feet in height, which didn't seem right to Sundance. Some of the breaks oozed glistening sap, which he guessed meant that they were recent. And the ground… something heavy had recently been dragged over the ground, the signs of which were very much visible. 

Quite suddenly, Hornet's flight went completely and utterly silent. There was no buzz, no drone, no nothing from the not-pegasus. It was as eerie as it was creepy. She flitted from tree to tree, moving between the branches, and then, with a flash of green witchfire, she changed colours, becoming a sort of mossy greenish brown—but still in pegasus form. Sundance, now entirely too self-aware of his bright ochre hide, wondered how he might hide himself and wondered if he should've dipped himself in mud. 

Megara dropped to the forest floor, and then began to stalk around, making no sound whatsoever. This was somehow even creepier than Hornet, as Megara was far too large a creature to be so terrifically silent. The sound of his own wings flapping concerned Sundance just a bit, because if he could hear them—then so could the ogre. It was worrisome, because quite honestly he didn't want a close encounter with an ogre. Staying down below the treeline kept him far too close to the ground, and Sundance could not help but think of his own fragility. 

"I don't sense anything… yet," River Raider whispered. "But I smell him. He passed along this way just recently. Maybe to get water. Also"—she sniffed, and was disgusted—"he passed water right over there." 

Mouth dry, his blood coursing through his veins, Sundance wished that he had a better view of things. The trees obscured his vision and he didn't like that, not at all. He moved with slow caution, trying to peer around the branches before revealing himself to some new angle. He flew sneaky, just as Megara had suggested, though he was certain that the pounding of his heart against his ribs would give him away. 

"This way." The manticoress gestured with her batlike wing. "Follow the broken branches…" 



 

The ogre, as it turned out, was approximately two ponies tall—but this was because he was hunched in half to pinch a loaf. Grunting and straining, he was clearly having some trouble and right away Sundance knew that the poor creature wasn't getting enough vegetables in his diet. As it turned out, the ogre was quite unlike anything that Sundance had ever seen. Its head was a peculiar mix of dog and bear, with tusks and other boarlike features, including a hog-nosed snout. The ogre had shoulders wider than Sundance was long from nose to tail, and its lumpy, misshapen limbs were as thick as tree trunks. 

More than anything else, the ogre—huffing, puffing, and grunting from his mighty bowel-evacuation efforts—was surprised to discover that he had visitors. When he rose to his feet, he was, indeed, at least four Sundances tall, which was about three more Sundances than singular Sundance was prepared to deal with. The companions stared at the ogre, and the ogre back at them. If there was ever an awkward moment too weird for words, this might just be it. 

"That'll make for an annoying dingleberry," Megara deadpanned. 

"Hrrraaarrrgh!" the ogre hrrraaarrrghed, which was a very ogrish thing to do, and the sort of greeting one received when one interrupted an ogre whilst he pinched a loaf. "Hrook! Hargrargh! Hoo-OO-rargh!" 

"Oh yeah?" Megara replied with icy calm. "Yer mother!" 

"Nrarghleflarg!" the ogre nrarghleflargged as he charged right for Megara with his dirty ogre paws extended. 

The ogre's camp became an impromptu battlefield; Sundance was not ready. 

"River and I will keep the ogre occupied. Sundance, see if you can stick a javelin or a dart in him. Don't hit River or I, or there will be Tartarus to pay, and your credit's no good there. Hornet, you keep Sundance safe. Now, let's party!" Flinging herself off to one side, Megara dodged the charging ogre, which missed her by a considerable distance. 

Megara landed; she was far too big and bulky to remain airborne in the trees. She bounded this-a-way and that-a-way, staying out of the ogre's considerable reach. Meanwhile, River Raider stayed behind the ogre, and darted in to slash at him with her serrated hooves. While his thick, shaggy hide protected him, some of her strikes drew thin trickles of blood. Hesitating more than a little, Sundance drew a javelin, but then didn't know what to do with it. He needed to be above the ogre, which was a problem. There were so many trees. Not to mention that the ogre kept moving, making every effort to grab the manticoress by the tail, which Sundance felt was an unforgivably stupid thing to do. 

But who was he to judge an ogre? 

Flapping his wings, Sundance navigated through the leafy canopy until the ogre was beneath him. From up here, he had a somewhat better view of the camp, though the trees still obscured much. There was a pile of smashed carts, wagons, barrels, and wooden crates near a cave, which was really more like a big hole in the ground. Burlap sacks were scattered on the ground, some empty, some partially full. A firepit full of cold ashes was near the cave, and it appeared as though some of the wooden wreckage was used for firewood. 

Flying in circles, Hornet remained close, but did not attack. She was ready to defend, no doubt, and wasted no energy. Her close proximity made Sundance feel safe. Gripping his javelin, he watched the fracas down below, hoping for some kind of pattern, but there was none to be seen. Hitting one of his friends seemed a very real possibility; River Raider kept darting in. 

But then, as he readied his javelin, she kept her distance. Of course… why hadn't he thought of that? Feeling more than a little stupid, he readied his javelin—and waited for just the right moment. Smoke trailed in thick ribbons from River Raider's nostrils and sparks flew from her open maw. There were branches in the way, and leaves made it difficult to see everything. Sundance hovered, and was patient. 

Snarling, hissing, always just out of reach, Megara raked dirt into the ogre's face and then lept away when he flailed his fists at her. The manticoress was faster than she had a right to be for a creature so large and bulky. It was about this point in the battle that Sundance realised that Megara was playing with the ogre. She had to be. He could not understand why she didn't just finish it off, as she was obviously capable of doing. He supposed it was so that he might learn something from this encounter. The prospect of hurling a javelin into another living, breathing, thinking, feeling creature unnerved him and left a curious tingle in his testicles that he didn't care for at all. 

He took careful aim, lined up his shot, and hurled his javelin at the ogre…
> Unscrewed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A corn-studded black turd festooned with pretty pastel hairs plopped down upon the forest floor and an eyeblink later a javelin protruded up from the litter-strewn loam. There was a brief pause in the combat as all involved processed the events that had transpired and come to pass. Sundance missed and was immediately hard upon himself for his ill-timed failure. The ogre finally pinched his loaf. With her whiskers all a-quiver and wearing a stern mask of disapproval, Megara judged the whole of the situation in terrifying silence that radiated condemnation. Groaning in disgust, River Raider retreated with her forelegs raised in front of her face, as if warding off the unpleasant sight of the now-freed turd threaded with silken hairs in all the colours of the rainbow. As for Hornet, she was a helpful creature, and with a brilliant burst of green witchfire, she recovered Sundance's javelin for him and teleported it back to be with the others. 

Brimming with optimism despite the odds, Sundance readied another javelin. 

Combat unpaused and returned to its chaotic, frenetic pace. Megara lept away as the ogre recovered; she lept up onto a tree, clung to the trunk for a moment, and then hurled herself to safety as the ogre tried to punch her. Circling around, River Raider blew smoke in the ogre's face. Right away he stopped what he was doing and then tried to rub his eyes, which meant that he made for an incredibly easy target. Swooping in, Sundance loosed a javelin—

And missed. 

Somehow. 

It grazed the ogre's oversized ear and then embedded itself into a nearby patch of roots and leaves. The javelin didn't stay there for long, and was magicked back to Sundance in a small explosion of glittery green witchfire. This time it appeared in the air right in front of his nose and he was quick enough to snatch it before it fell. The blinded ogre grunted and pawed at its eyes with one paw while trying to clobber Megara with the other. 

"I bet you piss on the seat, too," Megara said to Sundance as she kept out of the ogre's considerable reach. 

"I lift the seat," he retorted with a frustrated huff. "We don't even have seats… just… holes cut in the planks… and I usually pee outside in other places when I—" 

"Just aim, you bumpkin!" 

"I am!" To prove it, Sundance hurled his javelin right for the ogre's gross head—and much to his own disappointment and dismay, he missed. When his javelin stabbed into the ground several yards away, he snarled as his temper boiled over. "How could I miss?" 

"Yes, how could you miss something as big as this ogre?" Megara asked, goading him on. 

When the javelin reappeared in front of him, he snatched it and shook it at Megara while saying, "I can't concentrate with you… doing… what you're doing!" 

"Well, you'd better," she replied as the ogre's paw came dangerously close to her hindquarters. "And if you hit me, you're going to be a bird-horse shishkebab!" 

"Your big ass is an easy target!" he retorted whilst the ogre recovered from a clumsy swipe. 

"Ooroog oo-OO-argh! Ooh ooh poo-fooh!" 

"You stay out of this, ogre! This is an exchange between a manticore and her student! How dare you call him that! Sure, he's slow"—she had to dodge a blow that nearly clipped her whiskers—"but he's trying his best! Sometimes I take on special-ed students!" 

Again, Sundance flung his javelin, and this time, Hornet didn't even bother letting it hit the ground before she retrieved it for him. The sound of River Raider's smoky laughter invaded his ears and he didn't like it; not at all. She was laughing at him, no doubt. Anger verging on rage left his cheeks in a hot, flustered state, and all the muscles in his belly twitched in the most distracting manner possible. 

This was worse than being picked last in gym class. It was somehow worse than not being asked to play during recess. How long ago was recess, anyhow, and why did he cling to the memory as if it mattered? This was worse than discovering that some of the things that he was sexually curious about made others unhappy. Worse, some of those unhappy sorts teased him. Mocked him. Ruthlessly and mercilessly tried to shame him because he didn't quite fit in. A teacher had once said that gender rolled because it was round and smooth. Square pegs had no place. 

Teeth bared, with all of his old issues now fresh in his mind, Sundance once more took aim. 

He missed. 

But not in the way he feared. 

He had taken careful aim at the ogre's heart, or least the spot where he believed the ogre's heart to be. There was a moment when he had a clear shot—but then the ogre moved to clobber the antagonising annoyance that was Megara. In that most dreadful of moments, the javelin ploinked right into the ogre's skull. Just above his eyes and right between his ears. It stuck out like an antenna, quivering, and the poor ogre now stood very still, blinking. He reached up, and with a tender touch, felt the javelin protruding from the top of his skull. 

The combat paused once again; no one involved moved. Quite overcome by what he had done, Sundance recoiled. His actions caused another creature distress—no, not mere distress, but pain and suffering. He hovered several yards above the ogre, almost frozen with astonished disbelief. What had he done? There was now a sharp piece of metal protruding into another creature's brain. This was horrible, no, far beyond horrible, and Sundance could not imagine reconciling with himself after this. 

"I am so terribly sorry," he said, apologising to the ogre. 

"You don't apologise to ogres!" Megara bellowed from down below. 

Prodding the javelin with the tip of his paw-finger, the ogre moaned. 

"I really am sorry," Sundance said, ignoring Megara's harsh reprimand. 

How could he have thrown a javelin with enough force to sink through bone? Another creature suffered now and there was no time to consider everything or sort out his feelings. What might his mother say? Or, for that matter, what might Princess Celestia say about his actions? The ogre tried to pull out the javelin—he tugged and yanked to no avail—and the horrible sound of metal screeching against bone assailed Sundance's ears. 

Each squeal of metal against bone and groan from the ogre was punishment in Sundance's ears. Why was the ogre still alive? How was the ogre still alive? Why didn't Megara finish him off? But as bad as things were, they took a turn for the worse. With a flap of her wings, River Raider darted forwards, reached out with one foreleg, and whacked the javelin embedded in the ogre's skull. It bent off to one side, and tension could be felt in the air. Then, she let go, and the javelin made a noise like a springy door stopper found behind a door. 

Eyes wide, the ogre reacted with alarm, because of course he did. There was an awful something going THWAAAANG! in his brain. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the ogre's nostrils as Sundance watched in wide-eyed, open-mouthed horror. At long last, he understood the fundamental differences between himself and River Raider. She was capable of cruelty, while he was not. While Sundance tried to recover, the ogre retreated, clutching futilely at the vibrating javelin protruding from its head. 

Snarling, his lip curled into a sneer, the ogre retreated to the pile of scrap. He then picked up a long piece of wood—Sundance didn't know the name of it, but it was the long bit of wood that was on the front of a wagon that ponies were hitched to. It was at least two-thirds of the ogre's height, solid, and had metal reinforcements in places, along with protruding steel bolts flaky with rust. He waved his makeshift club around and from the looks of things, Megara was not the least bit concerned. If anything, she was amused by this development. 

"He's got a lightning rod sticking out of his brain," Megara remarked. "Sundance, work up some lightning and zap him. See if you can. Light this guy up." 

Horrified, Sundance swallowed, and then clutched his flip-flopping stomach. His mouth was flooded with drool, but his tongue and throat felt far too dry. His limbs—all six of them, seven if you counted his tail—twitched with jerky, exaggerated movements. Slowly, oh so very slowly, he began to understand why the storied Pegasus Pony Tribe used javelins to skewer their enemies. It didn't matter that the ogre was tough—at least as tough as Megara, maybe more. Lightning was the great equaliser. 

It was almost too horrible to think about. 

"River, help me keep him distracted. If he gets too excited, flick his switch again." 

"Can do, Meg." 

"Hornet, if things go bad for some reason, fly away with Sundance. Don't get into range. I don't want a squashed ladybug." 

"Right." 

"Sundance… you know what to do." 

He had no response; he had no idea what to do or how to do it. 

The ogre, who now hunkered in a defensive crouch near the scrap pile, waved his makeshift two-pawed club around, but did not move to attack. Megara too, did not move, but remained right where she was, as if rooted to the spot. Clearly agitated, her tail swished from side to side as if she were an annoyed housecat. At a loss for what to do next, Sundance wondered just how he was supposed to summon lightning. Sure, he'd done it once, but that was by accident. Doing so had depleted him and there was no telling what doing it now might do to him. Curiously, River Raider landed, folded her wings against her side, and then stood there, huffing smoke from her flared nostrils. 

A completely random thought flitted through Sundance's mind: if one slept beside a smoker, one would surely wake up with a cough. He was quick to shove this out of his consciousness before River Raider turned her head to give him a stern glare. She didn't need to be distracted at the moment, because there was more than enough going on. The ogre, still waiving his club to and fro, waited patiently for the battle to begin anew.

It was hot, but Sundance wasn't sweaty from the heat. 

Becoming a thunderhead was no easy task and Sundance didn't know where to begin. He tried to recall the day it happened, but he couldn't remember much at all. Maybe anger was the way forwards. He tried to be angry; the ogre was an invader in his lands and did awful things. But his anger fizzled out and became pity when he thought about the pain that the poor ogre must feel given the current state of things. This was, for all intents and purposes, a home invasion. They'd showed up at the ogre's home and without so much as a single 'how do you do', they declared their murderous intent and went about the dirty work of killing. 

And it was dirty work; Sundance felt unclean. 

River Raider and Megara were painfully nonchalant about things. Downright cavalier. In fact, River Raider's fantastic cruelty spoke volumes, but this was so incomprehensibly vast and Sundance didn't have the time to sort it all out. It certainly changed how he felt about her. As for Megara, this was her business. This was the sort of thing that the Manticore at Arms did, he supposed. The grim reality of it all gave him second thoughts and he began to wonder if he'd made a mistake. Maybe he should seek out professionals and leave the fighting to them. 

But then, he thought of his duty. 

Just what, exactly, was expected of him? 

He still didn't know; there was no clear answer to discern. 

Still waving his club, the ogre waited as Megara began to move to his right, and River Raider to his left. The tables had turned and the predator was now prey. Sundance was still fascinated by the ogre's very existence, and his curious physical form. Tall. Bipedal. Bestial. With a wide mix of species. How did such a creature come into existence? He was alone here, with no mate. No friends. Just one creature striving for survival in the hostile wilderness of Equestria. A consummate survivor—that had reached the end of his luck. Bigger, badder predators had arrived, and Sundance thought himself as the sheep among wolves. 

As for Hornet, he couldn't determine much about her just yet, but surely her actions would offer insight. 

Megara had given him an impossible order and the pressure was unkind to Sundance. There was a tension just behind and below his ears, a certain tightness that alerted him to the fact that he had a headache coming on. He hadn't had a stress headache since school, just before his graduation. The first wave of pain surged inside of his skull, like a hurried incoming tide. It caused his vision to blur and both of his ears twitched. 

River Raider turned her head ever-so-slightly to look at him, perhaps to see if he were alright. 

A rapid series of events unfolded in such a way that Sundance could not keep up with them all. Perhaps seeing a chance, a weakness, the ogre lunged at River Raider. He moved with impossible speed for being so large, and brought his makeshift club to bear before Sundance could even blink. River Raider reacted, and was airborne with a single flap of her wings, but she wasn't fast enough. After it was swung in a broad arc, the ogre smashed River Raider with his club. She was flung backwards with terrific force, somersaulting end over end, her mane and tail flying in all directions. Her parabolic flight was low but fast, and she careened headfirst into a narrow tree with peeling white bark. 

The poor tree never stood a chance. On impact, it snapped in twain, and River Raider's head was squished right down to her withers, as if she were some big, hairy, frightful, bat-winged accordion. She made an awful sound as all of her wind was compressed out of her, and came to a skidding halt after she flipple-floppled onto the leaf-strewn ground. 

All of this happened in the span of an eyeblink. 

Megara attempted to pounce, but the ogre was still in motion. With momentum in his favour, the ogre continued his mighty swing. Holding the long, heavy, iron-bound length of wood, he twisted his body in the middle whilst he swung. It was too late for Megara, her pounce put her in the path of the arcing club. She tried to twist herself out of the way, her supple body somehow changing direction mid-flight, but it was not enough. The heavy, iron-bound end of the long length of wood smashed right into her face, and a scarlet mist erupted from her nose as she too, was flung backwards, completely at the mercy of physics. 

As for Sundance, he barely had time to process what had happened, much less determine what to do. It was all too fast, the situation too unfamiliar. Megara flew upwards, her limbs ragdolling in all directions, and a ruddy crimson flow spurted from her face. In mere seconds the companions had gone from dominating the ogre to becoming victims. All Sundance could do was stare as Megara continued to climb, and then, with a blood-flecked roar, she began her flailing descent. 

Eyeblinks. 

Mere fractions of a second. 

Sweat trickled into his eyes. It stung. His breath was too hot in his lungs and he was too quick to exhale. Time was distorted. Reality, disconnected. Mere seconds ago, Megara was in full control of the situation. It was almost a classroom setting. Instructions were given. He had thrown the javelin. His javelin. There'd been a few misses. Now this. The ogre was in control now and the two major players of the game had been taken out. This was his fault; he'd distracted River Raider with his careless thoughts, or his headache. Already events were becoming blurry. 

This was the owlbear all over again, an event which ended with somepony's death. 

What went up came down. Megara crashed into the pile of scrap. When she did not get up right away, Sundance feared that the ogre would move in to finish her off. He willed his limbs to move, he demanded that his body react, but nothing happened. Total numbness. Sensory overload. Megara wasn't moving. She was totally vulnerable. Prone. Exposed. All the ogre had to do was raise his club and finish her off. He would do just that and it would be over. The club was raised and the ogre advanced. So much could happen in the short period when one blinked their eyes. 

"River and Megs need a moment to recover," Hornet said in an irrepressibly cheery voice that seemed entirely and wholly wrong for the situation. It was as if she wasn't concerned at all. She certainly wasn't fearful, or frozen. "Sundance, you stay put. I'm going to introduce myself to Mister Ogre." 

"Hornet… no… you can't—" 

But it was too late. Hornet took off in a blur and all of her illusion melted away, revealing her changeling form. She was a keg with legs. Short, stubby rather chubby legs. Her chitinous body was armored and reinforced to the point of ridiculous proportions. She was shiny, almost oily in appearance, and her black-brown-green shell shimmered with iridescent rainbow hues. Hornet had stubby-but-stabby antlers that appeared to be made from some kind of reddish wood, and there were most certainly pine needles growing from her magnificent rack. 

She flew right for the ogre, unerringly and without veering away. 

"Hey… dung-brain! You hungry?" 

Blood still trickling from his nose, the ogre gave the fearless 'ling his baleful attention. 

"Eat me," Hornet suggested whilst she gestured at her own body.

Brows furrowed, the ogre took this suggestion into consideration. Meanwhile, Hornet hovered mere inches away from his face. He lowered his club, licked his lips, and all Sundance could do was watch in frozen, motionless horror. Hornet turned around and began to waggle her backside right in the ogre's face, and she wiggled her stubby hind legs enticingly, just daring the ogre to sample what she had to offer. 

With his club now resting on the ground, the ogre was free to pull one paw away. He did so cautiously, curiously, perhaps unable to believe his own good fortune. In one swift motion, he swatted Hornet into his maw and chomped down. There was an awful sound that was almost like glass shattering, but it wasn't Hornet's chitin suffering catastrophic structural failure, no. Recoiling in silent shock, Sundance watched as the ogre's teeth shattered like glass windows, with tiny, jagged, yellow shards exploding out in every conceivable direction. 

It made his testicles tingle and his dock clenched deep into the fuzzy crack of his ass. 

It seemed as though Hornet was trying to cram herself down the ogre's throat. She wiggled and squirmed, but did not attempt to free herself. Some kind of gas billowed from between her chitinous segments, like heat shimmers rising up from a hot road. The ogre's eyes went wide with surprise, then were squeezed shut. More gas flowed from Hornet's body and then a truly terrible stench assailed Sundance's nostrils. 

"I synthesised the cheese!" Hornet shouted in triumph whilst she wiggle-waggled her backside around in the ogre's devastated maw. "Behold! The power of cheese! I am the cheeseling!" With her every movement, her every jiggle, more and more of the ogre's shattered yellow teeth fell to the ground. 

The club tumbled to the ground as the ogre reached up with both paws to yank Hornet from his maw. She was half-in and half-out. With every kick of her hind legs, more of the ogre's teeth broke and there was a spine-chilling tinkling sound of ever-so-fragile enamel against impervious chitin. Sundance's eyes watered; though it was uncertain if the smell or what he saw was the culprit. The smell was awful beyond description, but then again, so was what he witnessed. It seemed as though Hornet was shoving herself down the ogre's throat, possibly to choke him to death. 

The little 'ling seemed impervious, if the ogre's ruined teeth were any indication. 

"Bite my shiny, chitinous ass! That's right, eat me!" 

Ribbons of vomit guysered from the ogre's nostrils and then a second later Hornet was ejected out of his maw with terrific force, propelled by an eruption of foul, steaming, chunky liquid. Clutching his guts, the ogre doubled over and retched. Now unspeakably filthy, Hornet recovered herself and then flew in orbit around the now heaving ogre. Cheese-scented gas streamed from vents hidden between her chitinous segments. Not just any cheese; Equestria's smelliest, most dangerous cheese, and quite possibly the most hazardous, most vile cheese to have ever existed if the advertising could be believed. 

And Hornet was laughing. 

Sundance was reminded why changelings were dangerous. The ogre hurled again and grotesque, mysterious chunks of unknown origin splattered and bounced against the forest floor. As if adding insult to injury, Hornet turned herself into a flock of birds, all of which circled around the ogre's bobbing mostly-toothless head. Since she wasn't actually a flock of birds—this meant that her main body was somehow invisible. One of the birds shat upon the ogre's head, and then the flock vanished as Hornet came back into view. 

A leg shot up out of the scrap pile, very much like a zombie limb emerging from the grave in a horror movie. Nothing in Sundance's life had prepared him for this absurd terror that had turned his blood into congealed ice, a slushy that squirted through his veins that was not cherry-flavoured. Open mouthed, wide eyed, and terrified, he watched as Megara sat up and shook off stray bits of scrap and wood. Her eyes? Furious. Her face? Bloodied with bared teeth. A steady trickle of blood oozed from her nostrils and she had fat lips lacerated by her own sharp teeth. 

"I'm gonna unscrew your head," she said as she rose up out of the scrap pile, "because I don't like your head!" 

It was then, at this very moment, that Sundance decided that he was living in a mad world. He had to be; how else would creatures like Hornet and Megara exist? Bloodied, impaled by multiple bits of splintered wood, Megara continued her zombie rise out of her shallow grave all while Sundance had ceased to breathe, for such was his terror. He was just a pegasus… what exactly was he doing with these monsters? And they were monsters, all of them. 

Hornet's gleeful giggling rang in his ears like dreadful alarm bells. 

River Raider was on her hooves, too. Sundance became aware of this when he heard a horrible pippity-poppity ratcheting sound. When he turned, he saw her twisting her head from left to right, and when she twisted her head from right to left, her neck bones made the most testicle-tingling crackle. While a part of him was still very much attracted to her, he was absolutely terrified of her current bestial state. A jagged, broken rib—bright pink and glistening—protruded from her torn flesh, just below her right wing and behind her shoulder. The very sight of her caused a part of his anatomy to go from an outie to an innie, and it wasn't his belly button. It was as if the part of him that was most responsive to her well-muscled form now retreated from this unpleasant reality, which was too much to bear. 

The javelin, still protruding from the ogre's noggin, was evidence that Sundance was a monster amongst monsters. No longer in control of himself, his fear flowed from him and formed a puddle that spread around his hind hooves. River Raider's neck popped again, then again, and then she began to flex her jaw until it also made an awful, indescribable sound. 

When at last Sundance breathed again, he squealed like a stuck foal.

A wheeze. 

A whicker. 

A whinny. 

Seconds, stretched out like hours, ticked away, lost forever to the void of the past. Blinking one's eyes had nothing to do with vision; it was a biting maw, a ravenous consumption of the present in real time, with the eyes devouring all there was to see. Sundance was a pony lost to the moment, stricken dumb and useless by his own fears. His eyelids chewed through an endless all-you-can-eat buffet of ghastly images, each somehow worse than the one before. 

Megara was on her paws now. Tail twitching, her eyes blazing, she was everything that made a manticore terrorising. A splintered spoke from a wagon wheel protruded from the fleshy area just between her ribs and her hind leg, and dozens of other smaller splinters festooned her chocolate hide in a variety of places. For a pony, this might have been crippling, or otherwise debilitating. For a manticore however, this was clearly just an annoyance. 

An annoyance that caused no end of anger. 

The sudden roar caused every bird for miles around to take wing, and many left behind fresh deposits of liquid fear. All around Sundance, the forest came alive. If a lion was the king of the jungle, as the old saying went, then the manticore was king of the forest. Her Majesty Megara let all of her subjects know that she was about to pass judgment—but none dared to stick around to bear witness. 

Still doubled over, the ogre retched and spewed, all while clutching at his guts. What foul, awful alchemy had Hornet done? While the stench was undoubtedly epic, what else had she done? A terrible taste? A pernicious, putrescent poison? Was Hornet venomous or poisonous? There was a difference between the two, but Sundance couldn't remember what it was at the moment, for such was his state of distressed distraction. 

Megara lept; but not at the ogre. With legs like coiled springs, she hurled herself away and then flapped her somewhat torn and bloody wings to speed herself through the air. Still wide-eyed, Sundance watched in rapt, almost-but-not-quite unblinking fascination as Megara struck a thin, supple sapling. The tree bowed, bending beneath her considerable weight, tipping further over than it had any right to do so. It was almost perpendicular to the ground when it snapped back, the trunk creaking in protest with the inconceivable strain that it endured. 

What goes down must also go up, and in a fraction of a second, Megara was catapulted back in the direction of the ogre with terrific forceful assistance. It was, quite possibly, the most amazing thing that Sundance had ever seen. The manticore was a missile now, a manticore-missile, an object of brutal physics, a fuzzy weapon of mass destruction. As for the tree, it swayed back and forth, almost as if trying to playfully swat at Megara's immense, hairy backside as she made her swift departure. 

She flew, knives out, all of her paws and claws extended. Airborne supremacy in motion, Megara appeared to be of similar mass to the ogre—and Sundance had no idea what might happen when the two brutes collided. The whole of the world and nature too seemed to be holding its breath right now in anticipation of the Big Bang. Hornet zoomed away with all haste, fleeing from the incoming manticore-missile. The ogre, after retching, attempted to stand up, wobbled a bit, and turned just in time to face his incoming doom, which he failed to notice until it was too late. 

For such was the way of things. 

Claws first, Megara struck the ogre in guts and groin. On impact, the ogre puked again, and Megara was soaked by the ogre's unspeakable stomach contents. As the hot, sour liquid guysered once more out of the ogre's shattered, ruined maw, the full force of Megara's impact bowled him over. Her claws carved deep gashes into the ogre's flesh and wide lacerations opened upon his stomach. The manticore rode the ogre down to the ground, and he skidded across the befouled and bloody forest floor. 

She was quick to dominate her helpless prey, flipping him over, raking his back with her claws, and when the dust and vomit finally settled, she had him in a headlock, with her hind legs wrapped tight around his middle. Both paws were locked tight on the ogre's tusks, and with both a grunt and a heave, Megara began to twist the ogre's head, following through with her promised threat.

While down, the ogre was not out.

He kicked; he thrashed, and reaching up above his head, he clubbed Megara's bloodied face with his fists. His hind legs kicked against the ground, but Megara clung to his back and would not be shook off. Slowly, ever so slowly, his head began to turn as Megara began the tedious process of unscrewing his head, because as stated, she didn't like his head. She applied all of her strength directly to the ogre's tusks, and the tendons on his neck stood out like steel cables as he tried to resist having his head turned. 

It occurred to Sundance that if Megara could unscrew an ogre's head, she would have no great trouble at all removing a pony's precious cork. A stopper that, once removed, would allow all of the precious liquids contained therein to come spilling out, uncontested. This realisation unnerved him, and he began shaking his head from side to side, as if this might somehow allow him the magic of denial so that this dreadful acknowledgement could be undone. He wished to return to a simpler time in life, a time before knowing that heads could be unscrewed. 

Ink-a-bink, out spills all the precious pony ink. 

Even from where he stood, which was some distance away, Sundance could hear the ogre gasping. His torso was slowly being crushed between Megara's thighs, which constricted him, little by little, bit by bit, inch by inch. He was unable to breathe in, only out, but every time he did so his ribs neared a state of collapse. Though the ogre clubbed the manticore's face with his paws, she did not let go, she did not relent, the slow death did not ease up. The ogre's head was sideways now, and still turning. Megara had him by the tusks, and his lower jaw jutted out at an odd, unnatural angle from the pressure she applied. 

Sundance feared that the ogre's jaw might just get ripped right off. 

But as it turned out, his fears were unfounded. The ogre's jaw did not pop free as Sundance thought it might. After a final gasp, the whole ogre shuddered, his legs kicked and flailed, and then his head began to turn on his neck. It did not stop—Sundance watched every horrible moment, his stomach tossing and turning like an insomniac having a bad night—and the ogre's head kept turning long past the point when it should not have. With every horrible sound, Sundance's ears twitched, and the ogre's head kept turning. For a short moment, the two monsters had looked each other in the eye—which was a terrible thing because Megara was behind him. 

What a terrible, fantastical journey the ogre's head was having. It'd started off to the right, toured the right shoulder, got turned around, looked right into the baleful eyes of the murderous manticore, and was now exploring the region of the left shoulder. But the journey wasn't over, no. With the tearing of tendons and the mutilation of muscle, Megara kept twisting, kept turning, determined to see this sojourn through to its final, fatal end. 

Unable to watch, Sundance closed his eyes—but could not close his ears. 

When he opened his eyes again, Megara's face was an impossibly crimson mask that glistened grotesquely, dappled by shafts of sunlight that found their way through the treetop canopy. The ogre's head—now uncorked—had rolled several yards away and the manticore had kicked the ogre's headless body away from her so that she might recover. The javelin—Sundance's javelin—still protruded from the ogre's head. Blinking rapidly, his eyes stinging, the poor pegasus couldn't determine what the most horrible part about all of this was. While all of it was truly awful, some parts stood out more than others.

Perhaps the worst was that Megara had actually unscrewed the ogre's head. 

It'd come right off like a twist-top from a bottle. 

Sour bile collected in the back of Sundance's throat. The ogre was dead. No longer would he menace the ponies down in the valley below. No more poached or stolen livestock. All manner of second thoughts swirled through Sundance's mind, and he began to doubt himself. He feared and worried that he didn't have what it took to deal with threats like this one. Dumbfounded, all he could do was stare. One thought rose to the surface of his mind and then stood out: Megara needed a bath. 

Though the fight was over, the ogre issue was still unresolved…
> Casualty
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Milk made good strong bones. There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason as to why these words flitted about Sundance's headspace, but they did, and even in the face of so much horror, they remained. Good strong bones. Yes, indeedy. Milk made for good strong bones. He rather wanted a cold glass of milk, perhaps chocolate, or banana, or possibly strawberry milk. In times of trouble, Officer Mom favoured strawberry milk, and Sundance, astute, knew there was trouble when his mother roamed the apartment with a foamy pink mustache. 

For reasons unknown, strawberry milk tasted nothing like strawberries, but was rather citrusy. 

The ogre's eyes were still open, still wide. What had he seen in those final moments? A creature of the forest, a monster, a predator, it was certain that the ogre knew nothing of comfort food—its face would never wear a pink mustache in times of trouble. The ogre was not civilised, and this was proof. Heaving, almost gasping, Sundance desperately wanted a bit of civilisation. Maybe the sound of traffic outside of a window. A tinny-sounding phonograph. The faint hum of the refrigerator. A radiator's ting-ping as it kept the cold at bay. These were things that were normal—things that were civilised—and they did not exist here in this wretched, forsaken place. 

"Ladybug—" 

"Yeah?" It seemed as though Hornet was eternally chipper. 

"See what you can do about getting that peek-a-boo rib back inside for River. Patch her up a bit if you can." 

"Can do! Will do!" 

Megara's horrifying red mask had already begun to crust and scab over. 

"Sundance… if you could come back to us—" 

With a turn of his head, he gave the manticore a mute stare. 

"—I'd like for you to have a look inside that cave. Be careful. Report what you find. Think you can do that, Sunshine?" 

He failed to register that she had called him 'Sunshine' and not 'Sundance'. 

Several attempts were made to respond; all of which were failures. His mouth was somehow too wet and too dry at the same time, just like it was right before he puked, like the time when he had the fidget flu. His cheeks were cramped, as if he'd eaten something sour. Nothing felt good, nor right. Everything felt wrong. Off, somehow. Unable to respond, with no words forthcoming, he nodded. 

"Good. Good. Get to it, then. Should be safe, but be careful. No telling what might be in there…" 



 

Treacherous ground kept Sundance cautious as he entered the dark, dank hole and the steep incline threatened a nasty tumble. Gravel crunched underhoof and the sharp flakes caused worry that the jagged edges might cut into the tender flesh of his frogs. There was a bad smell down here, something rotten with strong hints of decay. There were wagon wheels, planks, sacks, ruined rolls of fabric, and all manner of things there were now trash. 

Sundance paused when he came to what could be described as a nook in the wall. It was a large space, a sort of natural shelf, and it was here that the ogre slept. At least, it looked like a bed. It was either a bed or a trash pile. Perhaps both. The bad smell was somehow worse than it was near the entrance. While he stood there considering the trash pile bed, Sundance wondered if the rain soaked everything this far down. Perhaps a driving rain might, with enough wind and wet. Sleeping in the nook would be a miserable experience. 

Like a spring thaw, fear, shock, and revulsion retreated, allowing Sundance to think again. 

Just past the sleeping nook, there was a pile of bones. Upon seeing them, multiple things happened at once. Firstly, Sundance realised that the gravel that crunched underhoof wasn't gravel at all, but bone chips. Secondly, he recalled all of the horrible descriptions in books about bones cracked open so that the marrow could be sucked and slurped out. Thirdly, the sheer number of bones threatened to steal away Sundance's ability to reason. Fourthly, these were pony bones, all of which were smashed, shattered, and gnawed upon, with many having very visible teeth-marks. 

There were a lot of bones there in the pile. More bones than he cared to think about, or try to count, or to even attempt a guesstimation of an accurate number. How long, he found himself asking. Months? Years? Some of the bones appeared old and dry, while others seemed fresher and still had some colour to them. Perhaps worst of all, some of the bones were small, but recognisable, and made him think of the little ones left in his care. Some of the tiny, slender ribs probably made fine toothpicks. 

Distraught, disturbed, he whinnied once, a second time, but the third came out as a muted groan. Such was his state of fixation that he forgot to blink, and stood there, transfixed, until his eyes began to sting and water. When he finally did blink, he also swallowed, and a painful lump in his throat refused to go down. 

"This is why you don't apologise to ogres." 

The muffled crunch of the litter on the floor caused tingles to run rampant up and down Sundance's spine as Megara moved to stand close beside him. One heavy paw came to rest upon his neck and he could feel her hot breath upon his ear. Eyes wide, pupils enlarged in the faint light, the windows to Sundance's soul allowed the awful image just in front of him to have direct access to his brain. 

Even as he started to say the words, he thought about what Argyle Ascot had said to him when he asked Megara, "Is this my fault?" 

His voice sounded like a rusty nail being yanked from a half-rotten plank. 

When he finally closed his eyes and started to turn away, he felt her grip on his neck tighten. There would be no turning away, and when he opened his eyes again, hot bile seared the depths of his throat. Argyle Ascot's words echoed in his ears, all about how a pony in charge was responsible for all that happened under his watch. When he shifted, squirming, bone chips scraped beneath his hooves. Megara's paw was still heavy upon his neck, and her grip was like unforgiving iron. 

"Is this my fault?" he asked again; mid-sentence, his voice cracked and became shrill. 

"No." Megara's cold response offered no reassurance, no much-needed warmth. "No, this isn't your fault. This is just something that happens. But… this is your motivation to do better." 

"I'm pretty sure this is my fault," he said, almost whispering as if he were offering a confession to some terrible sin. 

"It's not," she said, and this time her words had a faint warmth to them, like the austere heat offered by a lit candle. "Sometimes, a monster decides to come ashore and invades one of Equestria's coastal cities. Manehattan has been destroyed and rebuilt many times. Canterlot, the capital of our nation, has been under siege for years. Squatters come and carve out a living on dangerous, wild, unsettled land. Life will always be risky, no matter what. If the Royal Pony Sisters can't offer perfect and total safety, then neither can you. And that goes for Sumac and Pebble, too. They have trouble with this as well." 

These words offered no comfort, but Sundance was still glad to hear them. Megara's words were somewhat slurred when spoken through her injured, swollen lips. She was hurt, yet seemed no worse for wear. This was probably just another day on the job for her, another bloody conflict in the wilds of Equestria. But for Sundance… this day was something else, a day he would never forget. The sight of the bones would haunt him. 

"How do I—" His voice cracked, turned high pitched, and then trailed off in an ear-pricking squeak. 

"Make this better?" The manticoress shook her head and crusty red flakes fell from her face, like peeling rust or falling snow. "You don't. You can't. How do you stop this from happening? Well, you take preventative measures and you do what you can. In time, I'm confident that you'll do just that… mostly because what you're seeing right now will keep you up at night, and for want of a better night's sleep, you'll do what lords and ladies do. You'll use your power and your influence to try and smooth over your conscience by doing the right thing." She paused, then added, "Well, good lords and ladies, I guess. Some don't care. Some sleep in their luxurious bedrooms, unconcerned by such grim goings-on." 

This wasn't the comfort that Sundance craved, but he wasn't about to discard it. 

"I also think that in the future, you'll be less likely to apologise to ogres. Maybe a bit better with your aim. I think a lot of things will happen… but there is one thing I know for certain and—" 

"And that is?" asked Sundance. 

"I don't think you'll quit. Not now. Not ever. Once the shock wears off, and it will, you'll be angry. Angry. This ogre, he came into your territory. Maybe it's tribalist to say, but pegasus ponies are viciously territorial. Even Fluttershy, Equestria's Element of Kindness, can be a nightmarish terror if you hurt something she considers 'hers'. You don't go into her neck of the woods and molest her bunnies and her bears. Let me tell you, I'd rather face one-hundred angry, hungry ogres than one peeved Fluttershy. Sooner or later, you'll be angry, and what righteous anger it will be… righteously indignant… and that, that's something I can work with. Once we have that, I will make you great." 

"Are you, uh, sure about this?" he asked, doubtful. 

"Absolutely positive," she replied in warm tones that thawed his frozen state. "You're already building a huge nest. An absolutely huge nest—" 

"I am?" 

"You are. A castle is just a really big nest. But it's made from stones instead of twigs. Everything you care about is kept safe in that nest. It's all yours. And now you've gotta defend that nest. And you will. I'll help you. See, I understand nature. Natures. A nest comes with territory. Come on, Sunshine. Let's get out of this hole. We've got a lot to do while there is still daylight." 

"We do?" 

"Yeah, Sunshine, we do." She squeezed his neck, and then began to gently rub the tense, knotted muscles just below his skull. "Come on… let's get you back out into the sunshine where you belong, Sunshine. You've moped in this hole long enough." 



 

The Sundance that came up from the hole was not the same Sundance that had gone into the hole. That particular Sundance—a version of himself that apologised to ogres—was no more. It was left down there in the gloom, posted to an eternal vigil to keep watch over the ruined remains of the ogre's victims. As much as it was a vital part of Sundance, it simply could not survive this encounter, and so the hole was now its grave, a place of internment just as it was for so many others. 

On occasion, good things withered in the face of incomprehensible, existential indifference. 

It might be said that Sundance was now finally an adult, but this was not the case. His life was such that he was an adult long before his peers, forced as he was to deal with the sort of issues where one had to surrender one's youth in order to have a mature perspective. This new version of Sundance had but one little change, one that might otherwise go unnoticed by most. 

His heart, an organ of tender decency, suffered an injury, and this wound left behind a callus. A thickened, hardened place. Such things were commonplace in the world, entirely too common by the estimation of some, so it was an injury that would largely go unnoticed. Just one more injured heart among so many others. But for those that knew his heart, for those who treasured his compassion, it was a grievous loss, for such was the elusive rarity of compassion without reservation. 

A tiny bump, a jostle, the merest collision, the slightest application of friction… that was all it took. 



 

"We gotta turn this cave into an oven. A kiln." 

"We… what?" River Raider, seemingly no worse for wear, blinked her eyes and then turned her best blank stare upon the bossy manticore. "I hope we're not cookin' what I think we're cooking. Lunch? No thanks." 

"The ogre was a worthy foe. A hated enemy, perhaps… but also a worthy foe. We'll not just leave him here to rot. So into the cave he goes, and we'll pack it full of wood, and then we'll set it ablaze, and hopefully we won't burn down the entire forest when we give the dead their due. We might be killers, but we're not murderers. The dead deserve our respect." 

"Meg, if you expect me to bury that ogre with—" 

"You'll do it… or else." Wings twitching, Megara still oozed blood from dozens of wounds, rips, and tears. "We can't always save an enemy from themselves, but what we can do is do right by the dead. For them, the fight is over, and animosity ends. We're obligated to do right by them. And we will." 

"Ugh, I don't wanna—" 

"And we will," Megara said, repeating herself, but now with threatening intent. 

"Fine!" River Raider spat out the word and then her face contorted in such a way that it was obvious that her spoken word did not agree with her. Then, still scowling, she turned her full attention upon Sundance. "Are you alright?" Her tone softened, but was still a raspy growl. "You're not alright." 

"I'll get better," he said, both touched by her concern and impressed that her mood could shift so suddenly. 

"No"—she shook her head and her eyes were sad—"you won't. You're more like us now. Not sure I like that." 

He shrugged, unsure of how else to respond. "It had to happen. I'll be fine. Just need some time to sort things out." 

"This is your fault," the bat-winged mare hissed to the manticore. 

"You piss off, you—" 

"Can we please not fight amongst ourselves?" Somehow, almost miraculously, Sundance's soft-spoken words cut right through the noise and silenced his companions. He gestured at the dead ogre with a raised right hoof. "Would somepony please show a little decency and close his eyes? We have work to do and daylight is in short supply. I don't want to spend a night in the wild, so can we please do what needs done so we can go home?" 

Both Megara and River Raider stared at him in the most peculiar way. 

"I'm not going to ask again," he said, his voice still soft and almost a whisper. 

"Right!" Hornet zoomed in to do what needed done. "Eyes closed!" 



 

The fight had only lasted for mere moments, minutes at the most. Filling up the makeshift charnel pit took considerably longer. Every stick, every twig, every fallen tree and log that could be found, all were dragged to the cave and tossed in. Megara worked tirelessly, never once complaining about her injuries or the sad state of her face. It was easy to admire her; she was strong, with legendary endurance, and her desire to do right kept her motivated. 

Everything in the scrap pile—including the ogre's makeshift club—had already been tossed into the hole. Sundance stood watching; he wasn't of much use here and it made him feel awful. Hornet had magic and Megara had strength. As for River Raider, she wasn't doing much of anything either, other than twisting her head from side to side, no doubt trying to work that annoying crick out of her neck. 

When she moved closer to him, Sundance was quite surprised. 

"She's right, you know." 

"Hmm?" His response wasn't quite a word. 

"The ogre is dead. We should respect his body… even if he wouldn't've respected ours. That's what makes us better than the ogre, Sundance. I was just… angry. Still am, I suppose. I get hot-blooded in fights. Look, what I'm trying to say is, don't learn bad habits from me. Learn to fight… that's good, I guess… but don't lose what makes you, well, you. What you saw in the cave… that's gonna stay with you. If I were a Warden, and had all the training and skill, I might be able to smooth that out for you. Heal the mind… Wardens are good at fixing trauma. Well, some of them. But I ain't no Warden. I can use my mind to scramble the brains of others and make them have strokes though." 

She grunted. 

"But I don't like it. I can't separate my mind from theirs and so I feel everything that they do. I do it sometimes when I'm hunting. Just cause a massive stroke and my prey falls over dead. I can feel everything that makes them, well, them just slipping away into oblivion and it unnerves me every time. Maybe that's what makes me different. I can't shield myself from the pain I inflict on others, so I'm peculiar about it. You know, I don't even know why I am even talking about this. This was supposed to be about you. You went into that cave and you came out funny and now I'm worried." 

"You're worried about me? That's incredibly—" 

"I can still rip your head off, you know. Don't ruin this." 

"Uh, right." 

"I've come to depend on your mind, Sundance. It is mostly decent and wholesome. Mostly. Better than most, anyhow. There's not a lot of shadow in there. It's precious to me… means something. You mean something… and I don't want that ruined by… well, fights like this one and you seeing what you saw in the ogre's den. Look, the only reason why I care is because I'm selfish, and this makes me feel better. It's all about me, me, me. So… watch yourself. For my sake." 

When he sidestepped to be closer to her, she growled at him until he retreated.



 

A smoggy Tartarian glow could be seen down deep in the cave, which now seemed to be a live portal to the underworld. Struck by sudden and sneaky superstition, Sundance kept his distance, lest he be dragged away to that awful place. He had, after all, put a javelin into an ogre's brain, and he just wasn't fine with that. Already, the guilt bore down upon him, guilt and so much more. Argyle Ascot's words about responsibility haunted him, and Sundance half expected the spirits of the dead to rise up out of the flaming Tartarian gate. 

"I think the ogre's fat is starting to render," Megara said with the sort of casual disinterest that one typically reserved for mentioning the weather, or time of day. "That'll help things burn a bit hotter." 

"It's kinda awful that you've done this enough to know that," River Raider remarked. 

"Why's that matter to you?" asked Megara. "Going soft, River?" 

"Well, 'cause it bothers Sundance, I think." 

Hypnotised by the lapping tongues of flame that rose up from the depths, Sundance had nothing to say. He kept his distance, from both the Tartarian maw and from the others. The smoke changed, becoming greasy, black, and befouled. It rose in a billowing pillar, and escaped through the treetops into the vivid blue sky. Though he tried to shield his eyes, he saw faces in the smoke—at least he thought he did. Equine faces contorted in terror and hopelessness. 

No matter what, a leader was responsible, Argyle had said. 

He held himself responsible for Sparrowhawk's misfortunes and everything that took place in poorly-named Peaceful Pastures Asylum—and Sundance could do no less. Somehow, he would have to do better. Be better. If he didn't hold himself to a higher standard, who would? The previous Milord had no standard at all, at least from what Sundance had gathered. And some nobles had the wrong standards altogether, worrying about their own safety, comfort, and state of being. 

Even as he backed away from the smoke-belching maw, Sundance held himself to the fire. 

Roiling smoke languidly rose up into the sky and a great heat shifted the local currents. Though distracted, Sundance felt the shift in the winds and the sky's reaction intruded upon his mind. More curiously though was not what he sensed from above, but rather, from down below. Without knowing how he knew, he still somehow knew that the land here was being purified in some way. Ponies—earth ponies especially—where connected to the land in strange, unfathomable ways. For them to know violence, death, and loss, it left something behind. 

Sundance could feel that now. The full awareness of it hit him with terrific force. Megara's mindfulness of the dead was like scrubbing away a stain left in the carpet. Though still saddened and overwhelmed by all that had occurred, he felt a powerful sense of relief—a feeling that would sustain him and carry him through these troubled times. He felt it now and it felt as though something had awakened within him, something profound—

"I too, have had an awakening," Hornet said to him, jarring him from his thoughts.

"Sorry?" he managed to say while all of his complicated thoughts suffered a catastrophic collapse. 

"An awakening," Hornet said. "Like you, I've had an awakening."

"I don't follow," he said without stammering somehow, for such was his current state of confusion. 

"Changelings don't get marks… destiny brands that set us apart as individuals. No, we changelings have awakenings. Something that strengthens our bonds with the Collective. We awaken to our greater shared purpose. My awakening was feared by many… perhaps for good reason. But today, I have awakened… and I am no longer afraid." 

"I'm lost." Eyes watering, Sundance retreated from the smoke after the wind changed direction. He moved away from the burning grave, and closer to Hornet. 

"It was of great concern that my awakening would overwhelm me with evil," Hornet said to her companions in a low voice that had an almost insectoid drone quality to it. "I was something akin to a warrior drone… even though that part of us was intentionally diminished. An anomaly. Something that would go away perhaps with future generations. A dark reminder of our past… while the Collective loves me, it also fears me and what I represent." 

As was so often the case in these matters, Sundance listened with rapt attention. 

"Thousands of warriors with the experiences of thousands of years all cried out to me today, and I heard their voices with great clarity. No changeling is ever truly gone. Our bodies might die, but all that we've learned, the sum of our experiences, everything that we are that makes us what we are… all of that remains with the Collective. And we survivors, we fear it. We fear that the Collective will somehow overwhelm us and return us to evil. So we are mindful, and live in terror of what we once were." 

"And that right there is why I hate changelings," River Raider said, muttering in a half-whisper. 

Hornet offered no response. 

"When the Sims had their awakening, it was a time of great fear for all of us. They were leaders. Meant to rule. All of us, each and every one of us, we all shared the same terror that our former queen might somehow reach through the Collective and seize control of their minds. That they might somehow become evil. Such was our fear that the Sim siblings were prepared to obliterate themselves for our greater good. We feared that our past might infect us. 

"But the Sims showed no signs of our former queen's malice. None of her evil. None of her cruelty. We didn't take it as a sign that we were safe though… we redoubled our vigilance and concluded that the attack from within could come from any one of us… including myself. I was hatched to be violent. To commit violence. To bring harm to others. It has caused much consternation for us all. 

"I have had my awakening, and I don't seem to be evil… though a part of me is worried that the evil is somehow hiding itself. That I've changed without realising it. I feel good. Great even. But I can't seem to enjoy myself because of all my fears. I can feel the thoughts of so many warriors in my mind… drones purposefully designed by our former queen to possess fantastic cruelty, a thirst for blood, and an all-consuming need for violence. I can even feel the thoughts of Queen Chrysalis herself. She's in here, even now. 

"Not her though… she's cut off from the Collective. But the echoes of what she once was. No changeling is ever truly gone. I can sense her cunning… her intelligence… all of the things that made her both great and terrible. Will she spring up out of me like a lurking monster waiting for inattentive prey? What am I now? Am I a danger?" She shook her head from side to side. "What will become of me?" 

"Look"—River Raider's voice was more of a growl or a grunt—"I don't think you need to worry. I'm not saying for you to relax your guard, but you don't need to worry. You and Sundance, you're both cut from the same cloth. You both share a downright disgusting sense of goodness and you hold yourself to impossible standards. You both live in fear of what you'll become if you don't hold yourself accountable. I didn't want to like you, but I've found myself doing so against my own better judgment. You and Sundance both… you just don't have what it takes to be 'mwahahaha villainous evil' and I don't think you ever will." 

"That's the nicest thing that has ever been said to me," Hornet replied. 

"I dunno, great evil can be done with good intentions—" 

"Meg… shut up! Don't make this complicated. For the sake of the Night Lady… just… keep that to yourself. I'm aware of that… perhaps more than anypony here. I see into the minds of everything around me and I know all about the evils of good intentions. I was trying to be reassuring and the first thing you do is re-introduce doubt… gah, just shuddup sometimes." 

Whiskers quivering, the chastised manticore did not respond. 

"I didn't think I'd ever find a pony that I like being around… as for changelings, the less said about them, the better. But I find myself in the company of a tolerable pony and a likeable bug. I wasn't prepared for this kind of weirdness in my life, but here I am. And my kind… don't even get me started on my kind. We're supposed to be paragons. Lemme tell you, we're not. We're even more of a danger than your overbearing Collective. We probably shouldn't exist. Yet, here we are. And here I am. And today was a pretty good day, all things considered… and I was absolutely certain that I would not enjoy myself today. Though I do have a bit of a headache after being clobbered and hitting that tree. That part kinda sucked. Shame about the tree, but it got in the way." 

"Yeah… shame about, the uh, tree." Though he wanted to say more, Sundance did not. 

"When I was a filly, I watched a rampaging dragon pick up one of my kind and it hurled him through the stone guard tower, which collapsed on top of him. He was concussed, and had a few broken bones, but he made a full recovery. That was when I knew that I was different from other living creatures, and I started to think that my kind were mistakes." 

"I still go back and forth on if we should exist," Hornet said to River Raider. "The Collective makes us who and what we are, but who and what we are has been rather evil for a very long time. What if the Collective is tainted somehow? How do we fix it? Should we exist? Scary questions. So many scary questions." 

"My kind are unstoppable juggernauts… and we're supposed to be the noble defenders of small, squishy, rather helpless ponies who die from trivial things like infections, blood loss, and trauma. If ponies knew the truth about my kind… what we're really like on the inside… they wouldn't trust us at all. Not that they trust us to begin with. Little ponies are scared of everything, including their own shadows." 

"I'm not scared of you," Sundance said, and he hoped this was true. 

"Bah, you should be. If you had any idea of how many times I've thought about eating you, you'd be scared." 

"You've thought about eating me?" he asked. 

"Can't help it. It happens. You move in some weird way, or you show off your meaty bits, and the thought crosses my mind." 

"But you get annoyed at me for things that go through my mind that I can't control," he said, "such as my, uh, attraction for you." 

"Shuddap," she snapped. 

"Right. Shutting up. We'll talk about this later." 

"No, we won't. We'll talk about this never. Forget I said anything." 

"If you did bite me, I'd be very understanding—" 

"Damn you… don't do this to me. Not now, not ever. That's the worst part about you… you're not even lying!" Heaving a snort, River Raider stormed off and stomped away. 

"She'll be fine," Hornet said to Sundance, who watched as River Raider retreated. "You know, it's comforting how she said that we were cut from the same cloth… you and I, we can hold each other accountable…" 
> The jugular
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slipping into the almost-but-not-quite steaming basin, Sundance felt most of his troubles fade away as the comforting warmth saturated his sunny ochre hide. Like dry earth, he absorbed an impressive amount of water, his body grew heavy, his limbs leaden, and a strange force pulled him down until he was almost submerged. The faint stench of rotten eggs made him think of home, and then a small, quiet part of his mind reminded him that he was home—just in a very different part of home. 

When Megara flopped into the water, Sundance found himself the victim of displacement and he bobbed about like a doomed apple in a washbasin. Within seconds, the water turned murky—and while he wanted to care about the befouled broth he found himself in, he was too tired, too worn out, too fatigued to be bothered. In time, more water would flow into the basin, and the yucky water would flow out. At least, that was how it should've worked. But this water was filthy, so much so that Sundance wondered if he would ever be clean again. 

River Raider hesitated. She was unspeakably filthy as well, covered in dried, caked-on slime, mud, and blood. A grunt. A sigh. Sundance felt eyes upon him, but he dared not turn his head to make eye-contact, which might upset the brutish beast. River Raider was the one that found the bathwater-hot pool, which was on the ridge with the trail that led down to the lowlands below. Some of the hot waterfall flowed through natural channels and ended up here, in this little basin—which the ogre himself may very well have used, if such a creature ever bathed, which was doubtful in the extreme. 

"What's the matter?" asked Megara. "Afraid of a little penis in the pool? The teeniest, tiniest little twat-trout?"

The irritated behemoth's only response was a snarl, while the sodden pegasus frowned. 

"It's a bite-sized snack, like a cocktail weenie—" 

"Hey!" Sundance shouted in protest while also scissoring his hind legs together beneath the water. "That's uncalled for." 

"Well, she shouldn't feel so threatened by it. By you. It's ridiculous." 

"And you"—he reminded himself that the manticoress had just unscrewed an ogre's head not that long ago—"you should be more respectful. River, do you want me to go?" 

Snarling, she flung herself into the water and Sundance was once more almost swept out by displacement, which lifted him and carelessly flung him around. Somehow, he ended up right in Megara's embrace, which might've been exciting under most circumstances, but proved decidedly awkward right now, given the circumstances. None too gently, she shoved him away, and then sat him back down near the edge of the stone basin. 

"Just what is it with you two, anyhow?" Sundance demanded, now too irritated to leave this alone. 

"We're both apex predators," River Raider replied. "Masters of our domain. Natural enemies, at least in the larger scale of things. Competing monsters… of which I am the stronger." 

"You wish, horse-spawn." 

"Hey, didn't you have a horse-dad?" 

Megara's good natured grin turned into a savage sneer. Meanwhile, Hornet, still in changeling form, paced around the edge of the pool, her head high, her eyes bright, and her chitinous limbs tap-tap-tapping against the stone. Her face was a mask with no expression, an armored shell that revealed nothing of her mood. She was quite filthy, just as soiled as both Megara and River Raider, and Sundance wondered if Hornet would join them. 

"I am the product of centuries of breeding, while Megs is just a mistake—" 

"Don't do that," Sundance snapped, and his objection made River Raider bare her teeth at him. 

He didn't back down. 

"Ladybug, are you just gonna stand there?" asked Megara. 

"Probably," Hornet replied. "I get clean with acid. That water is filthy." 

"Eh, it will run clean… eventually. You should join us, Ladybug." 

"Most creatures would dissolve in acid," River Raider remarked. "What about your… your plant-parts? Don't those get damaged?" 

"Naw." Hornet shook her chitinous head. "Don't know why though. Chemical protection? Magic? I have wondered about it… but then I got scolded for distracting the Collective and causing precious thought-cycles to be wasted on frivolity. I was a naughty larva. I suppose I still am. Did you know that I can swim in boiling water with no harm?" 

To which Megara replied, "That's actually… pretty impressive." 

"You both seem so fragile for being so dangerous." Hornet came to a stop, turned her head, and looked down at her two female companions. "Soft bodies, made of vulnerable flesh. Weak to so many chemical compounds and not to mention the temperature vulnerability. How is it that your kind survived? I honestly don't understand. How did we evolve to be enemies?" 

"How is it that the changelings lost and almost went extinct?" asked River Raider. 

"I wonder the same thing. There are other Collectives in the world, and they didn't make the same mistakes that we did. We should celebrate mutual cooperation… friendship… whatever you wish to call it." 

Hornet gracefully slipped into the water and caused nary a ripple. 

Sundance was somewhat surprised when she settled in beside him, and he found himself studying her redwood antlers, which were pointy, jagged, and vicious in the extreme. While she was alien, with a physiology utterly different from his own, he found that he could appreciate her physical form. She had a mane of sorts, a thin, shimmering iridescent film that seemed to be all colours and none. 

"You don't even have redundant nervous systems," Hornet said to her companions. "If something happens, some unfortunate injury, you end up paralysed, or worse. You only have one heart and if something happens to that, you die. When I was younger, still a larva, I wondered how you soft creatures dominated the planet. This got me in trouble. I wasn't supposed to think of you as being soft, squishy sorts. But I couldn't help it." 

She paused, shook her head, and added, "I don't know how to keep you safe, Sundance. Your body is like a magnet for misfortune. You can drown. Suffocate. Your flesh is so weak. It scares me. Yet, I cannot deny that you have strength. I don't understand it. At all." 

"This got weird." Heaving a snort, River Raider sent a bolo of bloodied snot soaring over the edge. 

A thin column of smoke rose from the ogre's camp. 

"One bad queen almost caused your extinction." With her head just above the surface of the water, Megara was a lot less threatening. "I can see why you're afraid of her. For your species to be so geared towards survival and then for Chrysalis to introduce such a vulnerability… I can't imagine what that's like for you." 

"We almost ended because of her," Hornet admitted, and her voice was more than a little sad. "The Collective shapes us all. Forges us to ensure our survival. Each new threat we encounter, we evolve rapidly to ensure our own survival. But… she warped our Collective. I don't think it had a way to deal with such a threat from within. She caused the Collective to turn on us… if we became a threat to her and her rule, the Collective minimised that threat to ensure her survival… at such a cost to the rest of us. Explaining this to outsiders is… difficult." 

"It's why you fear her jumping out of your Collective like a monster out of the closet," Sundance said to Hornet. 

"Yeah. That. We're supposed to trust the Collective to do what is best for us, but that trust is injured. I'm not even supposed to talk about this. They'll know. They'll know and I'll be in trouble. I'm treading into dangerous territory, but it feels good to let it out. We're supposed to act like everything is normal with the hopes that everything is normal. And maybe that's for the best—" 

"And maybe it isn't," River Raider said while she sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her foreleg. "Like I was telling you earlier. Only now, it seems so much more important." 



 

"So… today I showed up at another creature's home, gave them brain damage, and right now while I sit here, they are becoming smoke and being poured into the sky. How am I supposed to feel about this? So much happened. None of it was normal. How do I feel about it?" 

Each of his companions turned their heads to look at him, and Sundance wished they hadn't. Megara's battered, lumpy face was almost clean. Just a bit more scrubbing and some of the horror would go away. As for River Raider, she squinted at him, her eyes narrowed in such a way that suggested that the sun caused her some discomfort. Try as he might, he couldn't read her expression, which really did a number on his insecurities. Her squintiness was cute, though he tried very, very hard to not think about that too much. It was almost as if she'd just crawled out of bed—which made him think of other things, none of which were good to have floating around in his headspace. 

"I guess you're wanting to know how you did today, in your own roundabout way of asking." 

"Right, Meg. Exactly that." 

"Well, you did awful," Megara said. Droplets of water glistened on her quivering whiskers as she took a deep breath. "You froze up pretty hard… which I rather expected. I wanted to see how you handled shock, and you showed me. We'll have to work on that, Sunshine." 

While he could not help but feel disappointed, he also felt relieved; this honesty was refreshing. Was it fear that froze him up with crippling stupidity? He rather doubted that. Too much to take in at once? That seemed likely. He noticed that the water was now a little clearer, though not by much. It occurred to him that if somepony peed in the pool, River Raider would know—and maybe Hornet too. 

"Yeah, I would," the nocturnal pegasus said, confirming his suspicions. "Don't you dare." 

"You didn't show much in the way of killer instinct," Megara said, continuing. "There was a real lack of aggression… though you did finally get your aim sorted out. Hitting a bale of hay or a stump is quite different than throwing at a live target. Sometimes, our brain tricks us and makes us miss for our own peace of mind." Reaching up with a paw, she tapped against her temple with one extended paw-finger. "Overcoming that is hard, sometimes." 

"I think Sundance did fine," Hornet interjected. "But… I think that you messed up." 

In response, Megara—her eyebrow raised—replied, "Did I now?" 

"You just described the problem, even. You chose the ogre as a live target dummy." The pine needles on Hornet's antlers were particularly green in the vivid sunlight. "You wanted to purge Sundance of what you believe are his weaknesses… which are actually his strengths. You run the risk of destroying what makes him a good pony. Today's shock and awe tactics cost him something, though what remains to be seen. River is aware of it too… but you, you're oblivious. I find it worrisome." 

"Huh." It appeared as though Megara had nothing else to say. 

Voice low, River Raider said to Megara, "She's not wrong. You tossed Sundance into the deep end to see if he'd sink or swim. He's not like us. In fact, he's not at all like any of your students. I don't like what happened. When he came up out of that cave, there was something wrong with him. There still is, but he's buried it." 

Again, Megara grunted, "Huh." 

Hornet asked, "Do we risk losing his compassion?" 

"You think I messed up. I suppose this comes from your awakening? Your newfound sense of understanding the ins and outs of battle?" Orange eyes flinty, Megara's face hardened into a no-tell mask. She flicked away a crusted lump of snot and blood from the corner of her nostril, and then just sat there, staring, her face an unreadable blank book that offered Sundance no words for understanding. 

Were he but a little smarter, he might've realised that while he was cut off, Hornet and River Raider were not. They knew, while he did not. While he was stuck with a blank, they had understanding. Had he realised this, he might have been upset. Or insulted. Perhaps a bit put out. Or not, for he was a remarkably understanding pony, one not quick to anger. His fate, his future as a warrior, depended upon a silent contest of wills that he was absolutely oblivious to, and cut off from. 

"So today, in no uncertain terms, I fucked up?" 

"You went with your own experiences, but you lack sensory awareness to understand the consequences of your actions." River Raider's response was surprisingly patient and lacked her usual antagonistic barbs. 

"Sundance suffered from your lack of awareness," Hornet said. 

With a sigh, Megara's expression softened considerably; the hardness became something warm, almost friendly even. She looked right at Sundance and said, "You have a fantastic bodyguard, Sundance. I hope you show her the appreciation she deserves. She will serve you well." 

"I don't understand." It was true; he lacked comprehension. 

"She was brave enough to tell me I'm wrong, and courageous enough to convince me of said wrongness. That takes guts." She wiped her swollen muzzle and then her broad paw vanished beneath the water. "I think that… well,  I think I might have to come up with a new approach to this. Play to your strengths. I agree that a mistake was made… I did intend for the ogre to serve for target practice. I specifically chose the ogre because I knew he would survive a few pricks with a javelin." 

"That… seems cruel—" 

"No worse a fate than what he deserves, Sundance. Don't defend the ogre." 

"I'm not… I'm just… in over my head. You set me up to fight something you knew that I couldn't kill… what was the lesson, exactly? What was I supposed to learn?" When he heard her sigh once more, his ears pricked, and he was aware of an itch inside of his brain. "Was the ogre supposed to suffer so that I might learn? Is that the cost of my greatness? Needless suffering? What am I—" 

"It's just an ogre, Sundance." 

"And you're just a manticore." While he might have missed with his javelins, he scored a direct hit with his words. He saw Megara's eyes narrow, and then he was distinctly aware of her pain. "Do I apologise to manticores or is that optional?" 

"Wow, the jugular…" 

"Hush, River. Now is not the time." 

Hornet's words did not distract Sundance, who stared right at Megara. 

"The second mistake I made today was doubting your courage," she said to him, never turning away. "Not your fearlessness… that's not courage. Just because you have a bit of magic that separates you from your fear doesn't mean that you have courage. But as it turns out, you have the testicular fortitude necessary to challenge the mighty manticore. You drew blood. I'm proud of you." 

"I'm so confused right now," he said in return. 

"Mistakes were made," Megara began. "And I think it would be wise to start over. You two"—her eyes darted to and fro between her fellow female companions—"I trust that you'll supply me with the situational awareness I need. We can't screw this up… too many lives depend upon us getting this right. So tweak my whiskers when I'm wrong. And as for you"—her eyes returned to Sundance and settled upon him like leaden weights—"you be you. That's important. Let's see if we can preserve that, but still turn you into a lean, mean fighting machine. That's a challenge I'll gladly take on." 

"You're not mad?" he asked, unable to believe his own good fortune, because nopony wanted the baleful attention of an irate manticore. 

"Why would I be?" she returned. "My father taught me to fight. But it was my mothers that taught me to take my lumps with feminine graciousness." 

"I'm sorry about what I—" 

"Don't be." The manticoress' tone turned unpleasant. "Sundance… you have to learn how to dish out the hurt and not feel sorry about it. At least, not when it's deserved. As River so rightfully noted, you went right for my jugular… and that was the right thing to do. I respect that." 

"None of this makes sense… none of this makes sense at all." 

"Well, perhaps that's the first thing we need to do as a group. Find some way to sort this out. Make it make sense. Or at least give you some sense of understanding." There was a splash when Megara lifted her paw from the water, which streamed down in glistening, shimmering ribbons. She pointed at herself. "I'm a manticore. And that, that's a pain in the ass"—extending her paw, she gestured at River Raider—"a highly evolved pain in the ass. Did you know that she can sense the neurons firing in your brain? Neuroscientists speculate that her kind still has a primal connection to electricity, and that this is the source of their psychic sensitivity. The brain is an electrical organ, and she's just using pegasus magic in some weird way."

Then, almost smiling, she held out her paw to Hornet. "Nature's consummate survivor. Some might even say the perfect survivor. Also a perfect biological horror, because she's an emovorous parasitic organism that bathes in acid." Her swollen lips parted, and Megara did smile. "And then there's you. You… and us. Us, and you. I don't know if you've noticed, but you're not like us. Yet, here we are. We have to find some way for you to work with us… but not spoil you as a pony. We're monsters. You're not. We have a lot of work ahead…" 
> Thank Celestia for monster girls
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is it over?" asked Sundance as Megara shoved an enormous, jagged rock into the ogre's cave. He felt the earth tremble slightly beneath his hooves, and for a brief moment, he wondered if it were a physical or metaphysical sensation. Everything that had happened here upset the very ground itself, and he'd experienced that briefly. He hoped it was over and that everything was at peace. 

The enormous stone tumbled down into the ashen darkness to join the others already tossed in. Megara grunted, heaved a sigh, and then gingerly wiped her swollen, misshapen muzzle. Hardly any smoke rose from the hole and the air didn't seem particularly hot. When Sundance sniffed—an act done with hesitation because he didn't want to smell char-broiled ogre—he didn't smell live fire, only a fire that once was but was no more. A past-tense fire. 

"The ponies that died here"—a mere whisper, River Raider's voice was gritty with pain—"mostly the earth ponies, they didn't like being left uncovered. Like foals at bedtime… they just wanted to be covered up. You sensed that, Sundance… you sensed that and then I kinda sorta sensed that through you. I think. Not sure what happened. Still trying to sort it out. It's like a dream that I don't remember. You're right to ask if it's over." 

"This is why we pay our respects to the dead," Megara said as she once more tenderly touched her muzzle. "Sumac is peculiar about that. It's rubbed off on me. Once… he did something to me… he did something to my eyes. It allowed me to see beyond the veil. The things I saw." The huge manticoress shuddered, shivered, and then faintly meowed. 

"They've gone home, so we can go home," Sundance said to his companions. "I think it's over…"



 

River Raider had hesitated to return to Halfhill Hub, having said that her brain was far too messy after all that had transpired. While Hornet was a big help in blocking things out, it was a learning process, something that would only improve with time and exposure. Which Sundance took to be promising, and he had high hopes that River Raider might be able to do normal pony things, and take part in normal pony activities, even though she was not a normal pony. 

So the three of them waited on the edge of town while Megara went to report their success. This gave Sundance some time to do some thinking while his companions chatted with one another, and he was happy that his friends were getting along with each other. Perhaps a bit too well, because River Raider was an absolute chatterbox and had Hornet's ear—whatever passed for an ear on the changeling. 

"A male changeling is a stag, a female is called a doe, and our eggs are called doe roe. That's clever!" 

With an absentminded sigh, Sundance sat down in the grass and for the first time, he noticed just how sore he was, a sure sign that the adrenaline had worn off completely. It was time for a crash. No doubt, he was still sore from getting bodily bam-bam-boomed by Megara. The more he thought about it, the more he felt it. Thankfully, he had other things to think about. Such as the settlement of Halfhill, half of which was his. 

Sumac had done a marvellous job here, and were the truth to be told, Sundance wanted to return the favour. Which is exactly what he planned to do. Already, something of a half-baked idea had lodged itself in his mind, and that was that this place would be ideal for a hospital complex—with half of it belonging to Lulamoon Hollow. As far as good ideas went, Sundance thought this was a good one, but what did he know? His gut told him that it was at least average, as far as ideas went, but he really longed for it to be an excellent idea, so he could take credit for it and perhaps appear to be clever. 

"We have grubs, and larvae, and some of us sprouted from seeds, so what might happen in the future is anybuggies' guess. That's what broke us free from our former queen's diabolical machinations and allowed us to breed again, which is great and we—" 

River Raider, in a stunning show of politeness, asked, "Can we talk about something other than breeding?" 

"Oh! Oh… oh yeah, right. Right. Whoops. Yeah, that. Sorry about that." 

"Eh, just shut up about it." 

Apparently, River Raider's politeness could only exist for so long before it spoilt, like milk left in the searing summer sun. Sundance only half-listened, because he was busy imagining what this place might look like with a massive sprawling hospital complex. It wasn't near the hot springs, which was highly desirable, but it had other amenities. At least Sundance thought it had amenities. He wasn't exactly certain what those were, and he wanted to check a dictionary or two before he started his proposal, something he was confident would cement his legacy as a wise, just, and fair ruler. 

If not, then he would have to try again. 

And again, if necessary. 

"So how did you learn to fight, River?" 

A slight turn of his head later, Sundance found himself looking at the big mare and anticipating her answer. She might be big and brutish, and perhaps not fully educated, but she wasn't dumb. Well, certainly no stupider than he was. The chatty batty mare had a lot to say and was an excellent conversationalist. While she might appear quiet and withdrawn, when properly engaged she was a total motormouth—which suited him just fine. 

"Well, there was some training, but I didn't do so well with that," she replied, her words slow, drawn out, and thoughtful. "I stayed in a constant state of distraction because of my condition. I was already cut from the colony program, and assigned to the cauldron. So I—" 

"What's a cauldron?" Hornet asked. 

"A very embarrassing term," River Raider said in a low rumbling growl. 

"How so?" the irrepressible and fearless changeling doe demanded. 

"A group of bats is called a colony, but also a cloud and a cauldron. And so—" 

"And you're a bat—" 

"If you finish that sentence, I will unscrew your head." 

"Right. Noted. That sentence will now hang in a perpetual state of unfinishedness." 

"Enough heads have been unscrewed today," Sundance remarked. 

"We don't take kindly to being called 'bat ponies', which is a slur. I mean, you don't go around calling pegasus ponies bird ponies… well, some might, but I would expect a righteous whoopening of the deserving ass. You don't call earth ponies 'mud ponies', because that's just rude. And we're not bats. We might have echolocation and bat wings, but we actually descend from dragons. We were created to be nocturnal counterparts to the diurnal pegasus ponies."

Sitting at rapt attention, Hornet nodded. 

"Colonies are for, well, breeding. With specific goals in mind. Achieving a stable species that won't revert back to being wholly dragons or diurnal pegasus ponies. Colonies are very orderly and scientific and are the programs that control our lives. Clouds are sub-groups that are observed, and maybe even have some experimentation to see if they develop useful traits, but in general those in a cloud aren't fit to be in the colony program." 

The big mare sighed and ribbons of dense smoke rose from her nostrils. 

"Those of us unfit for either end up in cauldrons. I have nothing to offer. There is nothing good about me. But it's not all bad… I get to live how I wish, so I get to hunt and fish—" 

"And make rhymes," Hornet interjected. 

For a second, River Raider almost smiled, but then her expression turned supremely sour. 

"I don't think that you're worthless," Sundance said to his distraught friend—who just so happened to be female—who sat smoking and sulking. "You're my friend, and that means something to me, something very—" 

"Shuddap," she said, her lone word trailing smoke as it was spat out. 

"—important to me. You've helped me to be a better pony and I—" 

"Shaddap," she said again, and this time there was a lot more smoke. 

"—truly do value your feminine perspective on issues that I would otherwise be oblivious about. You've made me a better stallion that is more aware of the feminine condition and I—" 

"Shuddap!" she shouted, and this time the stream of sparks that accompanied her protest was enough to set the grass on fire. 



 

Summertime… the flying was easy. Sundance was able to power-glide during the long flight home, while his companions were stuck with steady bouts of required flapping. With River Raider and Megara both injured, the flight was obviously taxing, and Sundance rather worried about them just a bit during the long moments of quiet when no one said a thing. As for Hornet, she didn't seem any worse for wear, wasn't tired, and zooming about willy-nilly seemed effortless. 

Which made Sundance just a teensy-weensy bit envious of her. 

She flew in her black and yellow pegasus form, and while her wings did not move—she maintained the effect of effortless gliding beside Sundance—he knew that her dragonfly wings moved faster than the eye could see. He couldn't hear them, which was impressive, but still, somehow he knew. Hornet showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever as she flitted about, breaking formation, and occasionally acting like a prankish pest. She dared to tug upon the tail of the manticore and also flew beside River Raider whilst making the most terrible, most awful of gooky-faces. 

If River Raider's deadpan expression was anything to go by, she was not impressed. 

Bravery. The little 'ling had a surplus of bravery. Fearless. She placed herself into the very maw of danger itself, and distracted the ogre. As Sundance watched her continued, unceasing efforts to pester River Raider, he discovered that he had strong feelings—but what those feelings were exactly, he could not say. He admired her bravery, her fearlessness. She was a total package as far as friends went; brave, fearless, kind, and insufferably good if River Raider was to be believed. 

If Megara the Lioness and River Raider were the physicality of their group, she was the heart of this body. But what did that make him? He didn't know. Today, he froze up. It was all too much at once and he'd faltered. He wasn't particularly bright and he lacked experience. Megara seemed far smarter about combat—but not infallible. She admitted to making a mistake—which Sundance felt was a smart and experienced thing to do. Megara didn't let her feelings and pride get in the way of the goal in the way that some ponies might. 

There came a moment of awkwardness when Sundance wasn't sure how he fit in. 

What brought him here was a desire to do good and to fight. As it turned out, violence was kind of awful. This would be much harder than he realised. While he was capable of violence—he knew this from experience—he didn't much care for it. But it was something that had to be done, something unpleasant, like scrubbing toilets. It was a job, nothing more, and jobs had to be done to completion, for such was the nature of jobs. 

"You can make all the faces you want, but I know you're scared to go home." 

Pulled from his thoughts, Sundance listened. 

"I was doing all I could to block you out," Hornet said in response. 

"That's the thing," River Raider replied. "I can't be blocked out. I can't block others out. It doesn't matter what sort of defenses you prepare, my mind works like… like… like a skeleton key for a lock. It might be considered powerful, if it wasn't also a horrible curse that's wrecked my existence." 

Hornet's lip protruded in a pout as she flew beside River Raider. 

"I'm not allowed to come near Princess Luna, the Night Lady for fear of what I might discover. The chosen Goddess of my kind. The sacred Mistress of the Night. She comes to me in dreams though… but I hate that. I hate everything—" 

"I am scared to go home," Hornet confessed. 

"You want me to come with you?" 

"That's kind of you to say, but no. This is something I have to face on my own. Sundance went down into the ogre's cave and I… I have to face Simulacra and Simulation and all of the others." She sighed, inhaled, turned around to face River Raider, and casually flew backwards with no real effort. 

"Maybe just don't go home. Stay with Sundance. Stay with us." 

"I can't. The voices reach me. Even now. I am but a cell in a much larger body." 

"That's terrible and I—" 

"You think I have something to be afraid of, but that's not true. It's true, we're not the most harmonious Collective. The Sims have it hard. So hard. We all do, but they have it rough. We are hated because of what Crysalis did. We're not trusted. Not wanted. And the Sims… are stuck trying to find some type of acceptance from a world that doesn't want them. We have a terrible shadow that looms over all of us. I have nothing to fear from my own kind. What I fear is making our shared burden even worse, and I fear that I have. I've had my Awakening. It has to be sorted out. For everybuggy else, an Awakening is a joyous time. Mine has caused no small amount of dread." 

"I was wrong about you," River Raider said to the backwards flying changeling in pegasus form. "Maybe I'm wrong about your Collective. You and I… let us be honest. We were born to be enemies. My kind was born and bred to sniff your kind out and destroy them. Hating you… hating you is instinct." 

"I know," Hornet replied in a small voice that was almost lost to the rushing wind. 

"You blocked a lot of interference from my mind today. It's made… a difference. You've made a difference. I wasn't immediately overcome with rage… it wasn't a bad day. And I wasn't alone. It hurts to be alone." 

"I know," Hornet said with a nod. 

"Best of luck, Hornet." 

"Thank you." 

"The worst thing that happened to me today was finding out that I want to spend time with others and do stuff—" 

"You mean it wasn't getting clobbered by the ogre?" 

"Shuddap, Meg!" 

"Sorry, couldn't help it." 

"Today confirmed just how lonely I was… and it was terrible. It hurts." 

"Do you need a hug?" 

"Shut yer pie hole, Meg!" 

"It's funny that you mention that," the flapping manticore said. "I am Nutmeg Pie, officially of the Pie Family, with all rights and privileges granted—" 

"Shut up! Don't you ever shut up?" 

"No." 

"Having friends means being annoyed by them," said Hornet. 

To which Megara replied with the following: "She's got a point, you know. You and I are also natural enemies." 

"Bah, to be enemies would mean acknowledging you as a threat." 

"Ow! Hey, that's almost as good as Sundance going for the jugular. Your riposte needs work though. So when are we going to talk about a better way to train Sunshine?" 

"Tonight?" 

"Over some troll tincture, perhaps." 

"Meg, that gives me dreadful wind and I live in a cellar." 

"Will I be a part of that conversation?" asked Sundance. 

"No," both Megara and River Raider said together. 

"Ah, so girl time—" 

"It's not girl time." Sneering, River Raider aimed an impressive snarl in Sundance's general direction. "Boys just aren't welcome." 

"Fine, fine." Still effortlessly power-gliding, Sundance smiled. "I have other girls waiting at home for me." 

With a flap of his wings, and a tremendous burst of speed, Sundance left his companions behind. 
> Make things worse for the nurse
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

How long had he been gone? Long enough for new construction to appear. The foundation for a wall was visible along the top of the waterfall ridge, and there were several circles where towers would soon be. A wall would be perfect for keeping certain intruders out, though there were things that could easily fly over a wall. Near the orchard, the faint outline of an airship could be seen, and after several moments of intense squinting, Sundance determined that the ship was directly over Celestia's cellar. 

Even from this incredible distance, he could see that it was a big ship. 

Since it was over the cellar, or at least where Sundance thought the cellar to be, he determined that it must be unloading supplies. Which meant that the stuff that Twilight Velvet had promised had arrived far sooner than expected. Sundance suspected that Mrs. Velvet had the supplies ready to go long before his whole adventure to the asylum, because she believed that he would succeed, and he was overcome with warm fuzzy feelings. Of course, this might not be true, but he very much wanted to believe that it was. He very much wanted to believe that his actions fostered a wealth of good trust in others. 

Far to the west, the edge of the sky was tinged with purple and pink. 

Without realising it, Sundance had gained some considerable elevation since leaving his companions behind. From way up here, everything looked different. He could see Cloudsdale, which had drifted south of Canterlot, but not quite over Ponyville. Cloudsdale was a storied place, and he wasn't sure what to think. His mother had nothing but awful things to say about Cloudsdale, and his grandmother absolutely refused to even talk about it. He could remember her clucking her tongue and getting her feathers ruffled if it was even mentioned. 

Drifting on the ever-shifting currents, Sundance decided that he liked living on the ground, a goodish place where he could be with other ponies. There was a danger, he reckoned, in living only with your own kind, hearing opinions unique to pegasus ponies, and never once stopping to consider the ways of the other tribes. Sundance valued the wisdom of the earth ponies and the unique perspectives of the unicorns. And then there were zebras and burros and minotaurs and diamond dogs—all of which brought their own perspectives to the collective table. 

This—this—was the wealth of his barony; he was certain of that. 

Swooping downward, he settled into a steady dive to speed his way home. 



 

Touching down amidst some wooden crates, Sundance had himself a good look around. It was a busy time, but Paradox stopped what she was doing and came over to greet him. She seemed a bit frazzled, or harried perhaps, with a damp mane and a sweat-slicked coat. It was more than a little warm, even this late in the day, and Sundance could not help but think about finding someplace cool so that he might rest. 

But that would come later; for now, there was stuff to do. 

"A lot happened," Paradox began. "Multiple airships arrived. Hoppy's greenhouses got delivered. She left with the ship, didn't say when she'd be back. Twilight Velvet's promised supplies arrived, and then some. She included an entire crate full of yarn and Gerard is beside himself right now. He has an order from the Crown to produce hats and scarves for the barony's residents before winter. Turmeric arrived on the supply ship, and he is overseeing the unloading of said supplies. We're still overrun with bunnies, which have been in the gardens all day, and some of the owls appear too fat to fly." 

"Oh," Sundance replied. "Bother." 

"One more thing… Corduroy almost had her thumb chomped off." 

"That's not good… not at all." Without saying, he already knew who was responsible, and he felt the muscles in his back go tense. Suddenly, he was in pain, considerable pain, and with his discomfort came annoying thirst. Beyond that, he felt irritated and upset, though he could not say why, exactly. 

At least the barony functioned well enough while he was away. 

"Thank you, Paradox." 

"Don't mention it. I find that I'm good at being in charge. The ponies here love me, and I love them, and they sort of feel like extended family, maybe because they are, and they like to talk about my parents, which is a bit of a problem sometimes, but I'm getting better at dealing with it. I think." 

"Always treat them like family and everything will be fine," he said to her. 

"Not all families are good"—she scowled, her gentle face marred by upset—"but your point is taken." 

"I have to go and deal with a member of our family that likes to bite." 

"Be careful," was Paradox's slow response. "And good luck." 





The first thing that came to mind upon entering the infirmary was that it was too hot. It was not at all like the dome homes, but was more of a traditional stone cottage, albeit a rather largish one to accommodate Corduroy. An incredible sensation of fatigue overcame him as it dawned upon him that this infirmary could not last. Ailing patients needed stable temperatures. Come winter, this place might be completely uninhabitable. Yes, this place, at best, was temporary. Stone walls offered very little insulation. 

There was a bitter, pungent smell that came from the stone bowl in front of Corduroy, something that left Sundance feeling sneezy. She held a stone pestle in her left paw, and he saw that her right paw was wrapped in fresh white gauze. Her ever-present patchwork beanie was on the table beside her, and she was as clean and white as ever. If she had bled—evidence suggested that she had—she had already scrubbed away the stains. 

Before a word was said, Corduroy's eyes darted to the wooden shipping crate. 

"Thumb?" asked Sundance, which was an odd way to greet one's friend and nurse. 

"My thumb is fine," the nurse replied, and she turned herself about in her tall wooden chair so that she might face the pegasus standing in front of the door. 

"Paradox said you almost had your thumb chomped off." 

"Paradox doesn't deal well with blood. Not even a little. Sparrowhawk missed my thumb, thankfully. No, she got me right between my paw-thumb and paw-finger, the little stinker." 

There was a faint moan from within the shipping box, then silence. 

"Are you alright?" he asked whilst doing his best to hide the worry and concern from his voice. 

The nurse dog stared, her brows furrowed. She put the pestle down upon the table with a soft thump, eyed the wooden shipping container a second time, and then returned her attention to Sundance. Her brows relaxed as she offered a nod, and then she paused as she smoothed out a few wrinkles on her smock. As for Sundance, he spent most of this time fighting against the urge to squirm, for such was his discomfort. 

"Sparrow is doing better," Corduroy said. "She was remarkably lucid today. Some of her tummy troubles have eased up a bit. I blindfolded her and took her outside so that she could get a little sun. Hollyhock spent some time with her while the others were in class. Then she had a nice bath with Mbali, and Gisela groomed her. In my professional opinion, there might have been too much too soon, and Sparrow was overwhelmed. She was doing so well though. The mistake was mine." 

"She went outside?" he asked. 

"After being blindfolded, yes. She really seemed to enjoy the sun. Open spaces are something we'll have to deal with." 

There was another moan from within the wooden container. 

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Sparrowhawk?" Without knowing it, Sundance became his parents. While his tone was stern and firm like his mother, his expression was gentle and subdued, very much like his father. He was, in this moment, the best of what both of his parents had to offer. 

If only he could see himself. 

"Did you leave because I bit Corduroy?" 

It took Sundance some time to sort out this question, and then he replied, "I left this morning. When did you bite Corduroy?" 

"Did you?" she asked again, her voice muffled within the confines of the crate. 

"Sparrowhawk—" 

"Why did you leave? Was it because I was bad?" 

Defeated, Sundance wasn't sure how to answer, how to sort this out. How did he make her understand? This was a strange new sky for him and after the events of the day he wasn't sure if he had it in him to make sense of all of this. He stared at Corduroy, hoping for some kind of help, some much-needed reassurance, but his faithful nurse remained mute. A hot flash of anger burned through him, heating up his cheeks, his back, as well as the prickly flesh beneath his wings, and then the annoying burning ache was gone. 

"I can't do this right now," he said with a shake of his head. "Sorry. I'm so sorry. But I've had an absolutely horrible day and I can't deal with this on top of everything else. Forgive me." 

Before anything could be said, before Sparrowhawk could protest, he fled out the door. 



 

Just outside of the door, Sundance halted, stunned by his sheer disappointment with himself. A deep breath did not relieve him, nor did the second, and by the third his disappointment turned to shame. While he understood the importance of his own needs, he also understood that both Sparrowhawk and Corduroy had needs. But Sparrowhawk most of all. She was battered. Abused. Neglected. Still sick and going through a withdrawal process that he could not even begin to understand. 

Yes, he'd had a troubling day. 

The images of those bloodied bones were burned into his memory. But Sparrowhawk no doubt had even more traumatic things in her memories, and she was a foal. A foal. Overcome with emotion, he stood there and gave his bottom lip a good chew. His heart, even with it's unseen, unknown-to-him callous, implored him to turn around, to have compassion. While his heart was resolute, his knees were not, and they wobbled alarmingly beneath him. 

"Well"—he gasped—"fuck." 

"I heard that!" Corduroy shouted from inside the infirmary. "Little ears!" 

Swearing beneath his breath, he turned around and steeled himself to go inside. 



 

On the other side of the door once more, Sundance was greeted with silence. Pestle in paw, Corduroy was smashing bitter herbs in the stained stone mortar. A pungent medicinal reek wasn't the worst thing that Sundance had smelled today, but the sneezy sensation it caused was certainly annoying. Saying nothing, he moved over to where the wooden crate was, sat down beside it, and then knocked on the lid, which was wedged open with a pillow. 

"Did you leave because I was bad?" 

A sudden weight threatened to crush him and a pang of regret over his return thudded around on the inside of his skull, like a headache announcing its intention to have an extended stay. While the infirmary was warm, the stone floor was cool and pleasant. His ears pricked at the sound of stone grinding against stone, and the wet squish of pulped plant matter. Heart heavy, he pulled his hoof away from the crate while also collecting whatever was left of his courage. 

"I left before you were bad. Sometimes I have to leave. There are things that have to get done and I have to be the one to do them." 

"Why though?" 

"Because," he replied with gentle patience, "that's just the way things are." He dug deep within himself, needing more patience, and within him, he found the part of himself that was most like his father. "Why did you bite Corduroy?" 

"I didn't mean to." The whimpered response was extra pathetic and heart-wrenching. "Didn't want to. It just… happened and I didn't know it was happening. I was sad. So sad that it hurt. All of me was sad and it made my bones hurt and tummy and my head was full of sad aches." 

"But you had such a good day," he said while also opening the lid so that he might peer inside. 

"All the good stuff made me more sad. It hurt." 

Raising his foreleg once more, he made a gentle wave so that he might coax her out. When she didn't come out, he felt his patience stretch thin, and he stopped to wonder why. It couldn't possibly be her fault that his patience was in short supply. He too, had a rough day, and maybe he was also sad. Or maybe he was angry. He hadn't had much of a chance to sort it out. He waved again, slower this time, and his patience was rewarded. 

Sparrowhawk slipped out of her crate with a serpentine wiggle and then clung to him with parasitic strength. When he looked down, he saw that her ears were pinned completely back against her skull, the way the very young tended to be, those in intense pain, or complete submission. Slowly, so he wouldn't jostle her or spook her, he slipped a foreleg round her, slipped the other beneath her bottom, and then lifted her up from the floor. His current state of fatigue made it difficult to balance himself on his hindquarters, but he somehow managed to remain upright. 

"She's still a baby, you know." 

"I don't know what you mean, Corduroy." 

"Her emotional growth and maturity… it's stunted. She has to learn how to cope with stuff. All the stresses in life. All the things that you and I do every day, but don't realise that we do. She's never had a chance to sort out how everything is. Today was too much all at once for her." 

"Oh." Suddenly feeling very insecure, Sundance worried that he didn't understand these things himself, given how he'd just reacted. When she quivered against him, he worried that she might start crying. Or worse, bite him. The ogre didn't seem very threatening when compared to the tiny filly shivering against him. He could fight the ogre—and he did—but fighting Sparrowhawk was an impossibility. 

"How are you feeling, Sundance?" 

His mind replayed some of the events of the day, good, bad, and everything in between. It didn't take him long to realise that he didn't have an answer, because he didn't know how he was feeling. Saying that he was out of sorts would be an understatement. To say that he was hurt felt dishonest, because something deep inside went beyond mere hurt. Something had changed, though he failed to understand what, exactly. 

"I'm feeling a little horse," he replied whilst he hugged Sparrowhawk even closer to him. 

Jowls sagging, ears askew, the pestle held in her paw no longer grinding, Corduroy sighed, then said, "You can be thrown out, you know." 

"I think the daily grind has worn Corduroy down," he said to the filly pressed against him, and mere seconds after his words he heard a clunk as the stone pestle was dropped onto the table. "Did you at least say that you were sorry?" 

He felt the distressed filly nod against his neck. 

"Are you actually sorry?" 

Again, she nodded, and he felt the faint tingle of static. 

"If I leave, it's not because you were bad. Grown ups go to work. That's just the way of things. Though I guess things might seem different for you, because you were the work that grown ups went to. So things might be confusing. But I have to go to work. I'll come back though. And I'll be a lot happier when I come back if I find out that you haven't bitten somepony." He paused for a moment to consider, then added, "If something happens to me while I'm at work and I don't come back, because I got squished by an ogre or something, it's not because I'm upset with you." 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Sparrowhawk exploded into tears. An absolute gusher, a raging torrent, a flood of sadness. Stunned, unsure and uncertain of what to say, Sundance sat there and became downright drenched by the deluge. He shook her—gently—rocked her a bit, and he tried all that he could think of to console her, but the small filly continued to bawl her eyes out while also howling loud enough to rattle everything in the infirmary. 

"What'd I say?" he asked. 

"You dodo—"

"Hey, I can fly, thank you very much!" 

Sparrowhawk's howls became akin to an air raid siren, whose sheer volume inside of the close confines of the infirmary were almost unbearable. Sundance tried to shush her, but that did no good—so he tried again for a second time. This attempt too, had no effect, and Sparrowhawk would not be shushed. The unshushable foal wailed like a banshee. Much to his own shame, Sundance very much wanted to stuff her back into her box and then fly away to avoid the consequences. 

The fact that he didn't spoke volumes about his character—but boy howdy, how he was tempted. 

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing here—" 

"And it shows," Corduroy said. 

"But I came back to try and make things right." 

"That you did." Corduroy turned about in her chair to face him. In a much softer tone she added, "She'll cry it out of her system eventually. After she bit me, she spent a good three quarters of an hour crying." 

"Oh… really?" 

"Really." 

His heart sank, but his resolve rose. "Well… let's hope that you're still tuckered out from the last go. I wish my father was here. He'd know how to fix this. Somehow, he gives his quiet to others. I miss him. I miss him a lot." 

Bouncing her gently, Sundance did his best to tune out Sparrowhawk's ear-piercing wails. 

"I think my father understood the importance of a good cry," he continued. "Don't think my mother did. She'd get upset if I did so much as sniffle and she'd give me a look. That look was my warning. My mother… she's a good pony. Just not one for crying, I guess. If you need to cry, that's fine. You just go ahead and cry. That's better than biting. I'm sorry about the ogre. I had a pretty rough day myself. I might've felt like crying at some point, but I didn't. Guess I kept it bottled in. Still bottled in. I came home and instead of getting some me-time, I had to come spend time with you, and that's fine. It's fine. This is what it means to be a grown up, I suppose. Putting your own needs aside to care for those who can't care for themselves. You've had a rough go of things, Sparrow… so here I am." 

The sheer volume of the deafening shrieks did not diminish; not even a little. 

"I'm still sorting this out myself," Corduroy said to him. "I thought about sedating her earlier, only to realise that she's spent too much of her life sedated, and that's why she has problems now. Sadly, this is what is best for her. Allow her to have her emotions, to experience them, the highs and the lows. Here, we have a low point." 

Fresh out of sarcasm, Sundance offered only silence in return.

"As a nurse, I never run out of patients." 

"And you complained about me," he remarked. 

Throwing both paws up into the air, the nurse shrugged. 

"Well, if I am going to be stuck here, can you please get me something to drink? And maybe something to eat? I'm famished." 

She nodded, her triangular ears bobbing. "Sure… I can do that. Give me a moment." 

"Thank you," he replied, while he also shifted himself around to get more comfortable. 

"Just don't tell her any stories about ogres while I'm gone, will you?" 
> Mudslinging
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Princess Celestia's sun seemed to be in a downright persnickety mood this day. Barely even mid-morning, the temperature rivaled that of high-noon and the sweltering sun held the promise of burning ever-hotter as the day progressed. It was a lazy day, or might have been in the city. But not here. No, life continued much the same as ever, with little to no mind paid to the scorching torch overhead. 

The sun. The Sun. An embodiment of Princess Celestia's might, power, and magic. A fireball that somehow self-sustained. It was a mysterious and powerful bit of magic that sustained life and was the sanctified anathema of the undead. The sun's precious light was the source of renewal for a land touched by elemental evil. Should the sacred torch ever go out, life as it was known would end, and would be replaced by unimaginable horror. As precious and as sacred as the sun was, Sundance wished it would just calm down a bit and maybe not burn so hot, because it was honestly more than just a little bit annoying. It made one a bit more sympathetic to Princess Luna, more understanding of her faults. Perhaps she didn't want hot and sweaty creases, cracks, and crevices, or galded gaskins rubbed raw. 

Princess Celestia had to be doing this on purpose, which was just rude. 

His great grandmother. Source of all life and well-intentioned murderer. Oh yes, Sundance knew the awful truth. Sure, the sun made things grow, like food—but how many ponies and other creatures dropped dead because of the tyrannical heat? Sundance wasn't fooled. Some said winter was a cruel time—perhaps it was—but summer meant soggy wingpits, swamp crotch, and a never-ending annoying trickle of salty sweat that flooded the natural cavernous canyon crack that was a pony's backside. His great grandmother was like that annoying aunt or uncle in movies that just had to turn up the thermostat and make everypony suffer because they were a bit chilly. 

An enormous mudpit was readied by Megara. Sundance wasn't sure what she was up to, but she clearly wanted the black mud to be just right. Floodgate was her ever-helpful assistant, and barked out helpful commands to keep the mud churned. It wasn't runny, watery mud, but thick, with a clingy, goopy consistency. Sundance wondered if he'd be fighting a manticore in a mudpit, and something about the prospect both alarmed and excited him. 

If only he had a way to sell tickets… 

Not far away, Turmeric was involved in an animated discussion with Hornet. Of course the two would hit it off. How could they not? Hornet was talking about her newfound acceptance, her new Collective-appointed role, and the Survival Mandate. She'd mentioned it last night, but he was tired and didn't quite give it as much attention as he should have. For the sake of the Collective's survival, her job was to earn trust for the changelings as a whole by guarding the barony's young and the barony's baron as well. Surely this would change some of the perceptions of the changelings and garner them some much-needed trust. 

A sleepy owl resting on a roof horked up an owl pellet, closed its eyes, and went still. 

Meanwhile, Puddle Jumper explained the peculiarities of the temperate-boreal climate to a few of his attentive students. School was not exactly in session, but would be. Megara had asked for school to be delayed for a time today, because she needed the kidlets. Why she needed the kidlets and a mudpit remained a mystery—but if Sundance paid a bit more attention to Puddle Jumper's lesson, he might have learned so much more about the curious brutality of alpine temperature shifts. 

All by his lonesome, little Ochre, a recent acquisition for the barony, painted with mud. The young unicorn carefully splattered black mud on a retaining wall, and the flecks of mud were starting to form a pattern of some sort—though Sundance couldn't make out what it was. Ochre was lost in thought and wore what was almost a sleepy expression as his masterpiece gained definition. Lost in the moment, the small stout colt was off in his own little world, oblivious to the goings on around him. He seemed to exude some fantastic aura of happiness, a tangible sensation that could almost be felt, and Sundance envied him. Life was simple, unburdened, and good for the pint-sized painter. 

Ochre was almost the same colour as Sundance, who was more of a sunny colour, while the colt was a bit more of a rusty shade, but both were ochre. Sundance appeared to be a creature made of sunshine and fire, while the young foal's darker hints suited his subdued, solemn nature. It was something to reflect upon, a thing to be thoughtful about. Did a pony's colouration affect their equinality? Yes, Sundance decided. He was a fiery torch of hope for others. 

Without realising that he did so, he puffed out his scruffle and sat up a little straighter. 

"Alright, listen up you lot." The power of Megara's voice allowed it to almost echo through the box canyon. "Today, you're going to help your Milord train. It is your sworn and solemn duty to assist him in his time of need. After a bit of a debacle involving an ogre yesterday, I've decided upon a different approach." 

"What're we gonna do, exactly?" somepony asked. 

"You're gonna throw mud at him." 

"No." 

Every single head turned towards Sauerkraut Pie, who stood up and shook her head. 

"But the mud is already ready already." Almost scowling, Megara stared down at the much smaller elderly mare. 

"This feels disrespectful," the knobby-kneed mare said to the much larger manticore. 

Sundance's heart swelled; from what, he did not know. 

"This is all in good fun for all," Megara said with remarkable patience. "Sundance needs those he can trust to help him. We're not going to hurt him. All the rocks and pebbles have been picked out. Mostly. We're not going to throw mud hard enough to knock him out of the air. It just needs to sting a little to keep him motivated. And we're not doing this out of disrespect." 

Lips pressed tight together, the old mare stood in resolute silence. 

Sighing, Megara's shoulders sagged, and she said, "Sundance is fighting for you. All of you. And he's bloody terrible. I'm sorry, but he is. We need to wake up his pegasus instincts. For that to happen, we have to put him into a bit of danger. Not serious danger that threatens his body, but for most pegasus ponies, you can prick their pride and get the same results. So we're going to sling mud at him and maybe make fun of him. If he can dodge mud thrown by earth ponies, he can dodge all manner of dangerous things hurled at him by his enemies. Your enemies. Remember, he's putting his hide on the line for you." 

"I don't like this," Sauerkraut Pie said with a tremble in her voice. "We might have flung mud or dung at the last Milord… but this feels wrong. This is our earth. Our soil." 

"And you're sensitive about it. I get that. We need a live-fire exercise. That's the best way to train. If you don't do this, I'll have no choice but to fall back on what I know, and that means live-fire out in the field… which might go all kinds of wrong." 

Ears pivoted forwards, Sauerkraut's expression became one of intense thoughtfulness. 

As was so often the case in these matters, Sundance kept his mouth shut. 

"Sauerkraut is one of our eldest and wisest," Fallow Fields said, his every word gruff and somewhat emotional. "While I hear wisdom in the manticore's words, we should respect Sauerkraut's wishes." 

Head high, but ears low, it was Birnen Streusel that spoke next. "Sauerkraut can't be ignored, but neither can the manticore." 

It dawned upon Sundance that he might not be as in charge as he thought he was. 

"Do we call a vote?" asked Kant Apfel, who cast her stern gaze on those around her. 

To which Hoe Hum replied, "Is that needed? Do we go against her wishes?" 

"Depends on how she answers," Good Spirits said. "If she says no…" 

"We should maybe have a vote even if she says yes," said Earwax.

"Why?" asked her sister, Earwig. 

"So we all know how we feel about it," was Earwax's quick response. 

"I stand with my sister, she's wiser about these matters." 

"Does anypony actually object?" asked Sauerkraut, whose voice carried over those of her fellows. 

No one objected, not immediately. It grew quiet as the crowd waited and Sundance knew for certain that he most certainly wasn't as in charge as he'd first been led to believe. But this was fine. Good, even. It was a relief to watch this unfold. The earth ponies in his care were doing this out in the open, making no effort at all to hide their actions from him—which he took as a sign that they trusted him. It was as if a great weight was pulled from his spine and his brow, and he found that he could draw breath without restriction or anxiety. 

"If nopony objects, I'll allow it." 

"Will you make the first throw?" asked Megara. 

This made Sauerkraut frown. The wrinkles on her face multiplied explosively and she turned the full force of her wizened gaze upon poor Megara. In response, the manticore seemed somehow diminished in some vague, peculiar way. As more wrinkles manifested on Sauerkraut's face, Megara's whiskers quivered. This was the same manticore that had unscrewed an ogre's head from his neck, a literal monster. But she was clearly unnerved by the old mare's potential displeasure. 

While he would never be able to put his thoughts into words, Sundance understood why a creature like Megara was so valuable to ponykind. Why they needed her, and why she needed them. She was a rare treasure, an asset, something of immeasurable value, a thing sacred and precious. This, Sundance realised, was how his great grandmother Celestia saw the world and not how his fellow ponies saw the world. For him, it was a profound moment of awakening. His eyes had opened and potential was revealed. 

A creature that could unscrew an ogre's head but paid no mind to the opinions of the small was of no use to ponykind. Megara was a large creature, larger than even the largest ponies. She was dangerous, there could be no denying that. But she had a conscience. She was all-too aware of the feelings, thoughts, and opinions of others. Megara cared deeply for how others felt, and was considerate of their feelings. This is what allowed her a place in society. As a monster, she was not at all defanged—she could wrestle ogres and alicorns knew what else—but she was not a danger to the smaller, more helpless creatures around her. 

For Sundance, this was a profound understanding. 

"If you think it's for the best," the elderly mare said to the manticore. 

"I do, actually. The alternative is potentially losing what makes Sundance a good pony." 

"We can't have that." 

"No, we can't. So we're going to train Sundance to be a defensive fighter. You can't hurt what you can't hit. Offense will be secondary. His job will be to give conscionable orders. Field Commander Sundance has a nice ring to it, don't you agree?" 

"It does," Sauerkraut replied, and she seemed to warm up to the idea. 

"Alright. Here's the rules. First and foremost, we're not trying to hurt him. So I don't want supersonic mudballs tossed at him. If anything cracks the sound barrier, Sauerkraut and I are going to have words with you. Unpleasant words. Words I promise that you won't like. I'm gonna be watching you, and if I see anything that even suggests a mean-spirited or spiteful action, you're gone. This is too important to be petty. Of course, I don't want any punches pulled, either. You must do your best to hit him. I want him to be absolutely black with mud when we're finished. And we're not going to all blast him at once, no. He'll never learn anything that way. What we'll do is get three or four at a time, so he can see the incoming shots and deal with them as they happen. Got it?" 

There were a collection of nods. 

"Alright then. Let the mudslinging commence!" 



 

The rules were quite simple. Sundance had to hover a few yards above the ground and not get hit by mud. He could not escape with increasing his altitude, but was rather confined to a specific location. This would be a memorable event, no doubt. The little ones would grow up and as adults, they would tell stories about this day. There would be laughter and fond memories about tossing a mud pie at the baron. This was history yet to happen. 

Sauerkraut Pie had her own role to play in all of this, and she already stood in the middle of the mudpit. She wasn't exactly smiling, but neither was she frowning. If anything, she seemed solemn. This mare stayed mostly in the kitchen and told others what to do, when to do it, and how to do it right. It occurred to him that he didn't know her well enough, and beyond that, he did not value her as much as he should. While quite old, she didn't seem particularly frail, nor helpless, and he was confident that she could throw a mean mud pie. 

"Aye, yer a humble one for agreeing to this, Milord," the old earth pony said. 

"And you are wise for allowing it," he replied. 

Her eyes glittered as she raised her head to peer up at him, and her ears slowly turned to face forward. "Age does not make one wise. Wisdom makes one wise. You are wise, and will only grow wiser." 

"Thank you, Sauerkraut." 

"Yer so polite, Milord. That makes this hard." 

"Do what must be done," he said, and he made every effort to be encouraging. 

There was a flatulent sound as she pulled her hoof up out of the mud and then she steadied herself on three legs. With a swipe, she scooped up a hoofful of mud, and then she just stood there, perhaps waiting, or testing the wind. Black mud dribbled down, mud that Sundance hoped would be delightfully cool. When she went to throw, he made no effort to dodge, because he felt that he owed her a free hit. 

Curiously, the mud was quite warm. 

She stood there, blinking in shock, and Sundance felt warm mud oozing down his front leg. The old mare's face wrinkled as she began to frown, and he knew a look of stern disapproval when he saw one. Her sides heaved in and out like bellows, and her nostrils flared with her every breath. Peevish annoyance glittered in her eyes, and she began to snort with every exhale made. 

"Yer to dodge," she said, clearly quite put out by her success. 

"I felt that you were owed a free hit," he replied, explaining himself out of respect. 

"You dunderhead, that's not how you learn!" As she said this, the spry mare swiped up a second mud pie, and with a speed that had to be seen to be believed, she lobbed it at Sundance. 

This time, he got himself out of the way with all due haste, but the mud pie still almost managed to clip his ear. 

"Good throw," Megara remarked with a respectful nod. 

"Why, thank you," Sauerkraut replied. 

She departed, every step a squish, and yet the old mare remained dignified. Her replacements stomped in, eager to toss mud at Sundance. Pluck, Wort, and Amber Dawn were all bright-eyed and excited, almost overcome by foalish glee. When Amber Dawn began pronking about in the mud, she splattered it upon her companions, which made her mother laugh. It didn't take long until they were absolutely filthy, but that was fine. Today, all the rules were suspended, trampled in the mud. 

Making every effort to be helpful, Sundance stuck out his tongue and blew raspberries. 

"Rude!" Amber Dawn shouted, but her laughter proved it was all in good fun. 

As a trio, the foals let fly and Sundance was forced to make a hard roll left—right into a mudball. He'd escaped two only to be splattered by the third and he heard Megara say something about a coordinated strike. Reaching up with a hoof, he scraped the mud from his neck, smiled, and then tried to shake the mud from his mane. It was a pointless effort; soon, he'd be slathered in mud, covered from hoof to ear. That is, if the throwers had good aim. 

The troublesome trio tossed a triple threat and Sundance took evasive maneuvers. This time, he narrowly avoided the coordinated strike by rolling one way and then darting off in a different direction just before he was struck by the third. Still, it was a close call, and he felt the wind from a mud pie caress his leg as it whizzed by. 

"Alright you little hoodlums, get out. You've had your fun." Gesturing with her paw, Megara beckoned for the foals to move along. "Make room for the next group." 

"D'aw, I was having fun," Amber Dawn said. 

Wings flapping, Sundance hovered in place as the trio trudged out of the mudpit. 

Much to Sundance's surprise, Carnation Nosegay and Paradox trotted up together to replace the departing trio. Rivals, by any and all eyewitness accounts, and yet they seemed to be pretty friendly at the moment, laughing and giggling as they were. Carnation hesitated for a second, inhaled, and then committed herself to becoming muddy. On the other hoof, Paradox didn't hesitate at all, and this made Sundance rather thoughtful. His cousin was a clean sort, fastidious, but living here in this place had changed her in much the same way it had changed him. 

The two mares stomped in the mud for a time and then Carnation turned her attention to Ochre. 

"Would you like to join us?" she asked. 

The colt, engrossed in his work, did not respond, not right away. He flung a bit of mud, pulled back his head to consider his efforts, and it was only after he studied for a short time that he responded. Not taking his eyes from his work, he shook his head no, sniffled briefly, and then he resumed his task without a single word said. 

"Such a serious little guy," Carnation said to Paradox. 

"He is," Paradox replied. "Sensitive artist." 

"Yes"—Carnation nodded in agreement—"serious and sensitive artist." 

"Wouldn't you like to have a little fun?" Paradox asked of the still-working colt, who carefully applied a dollop of mud to his unfinished masterpiece. 

This time, the colt did turn around, with one eye wide and the other squinted. His face was lightly freckled with mud spatters and the somewhat floppy tips of his ears waggled in the light breeze. After turning his head, he completely turned his whole body around, and the precocious colt studied Paradox with a critical eye. He held out his foreleg—which he stared down the length of—and the tip of his tongue poked out from between his tight-pressed lips. 

"Your nose is trapezoidal," Ochre remarked in a rather casual way, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to say to other ponies. 

"Her nose is what?" asked Carnation, who had a serious face but a mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her true feelings. 

"Trapezoidal," the studious colt replied. "Nose is wide on top. Skinny chin. Angled sides." 

"Sweetie Biscuit"—Carnation's words were saccharine—"where did a little fella like you learn what a trapezoid is? I don't think I knew that at your age." 

"I dunno." Ochre shrugged. "I di'n't learn it from anywhere. It was just in my head one day and it wasn't there the day before. After I got my mark, a lot of stuff just poofed into my head." 

"Wouldn't you like to throw mud at Sundance with us?" asked Paradox while she stared cross-eyed at her trapezoidal muzzle. 

It was an incredibly silly look for the dangerous, fiery unicorn. 

Hovering in place, Sundance watched and waited; what else could he do? As for Ochre, the colt seemed almost overwhelmed now and his confused eyes blinked a great many times in a short span of time. With a turn of his head, he glanced at his progress on the stone retaining wall, sighed once, and then returned his attention to Paradox. 

"Why?" he asked. 

This befuddled Paradox, who shook her head suddenly. "Well, why not?" 

"It's fun." Carnation stomped in the mud hard enough to completely splatter Paradox's legs. "I didn't think it would be fun to play in the mud, but it is. You should join us." 

"But then I'll be dirty." The colt's ears pinned back. "If I'm dirty, then I'll hafta take a bath. If I hafta take a bath, that'll be more time away from my painting." 

"He's got us, Carnation," Paradox whispered to her accomplice. 

"He does, Paradox. He's smart." 

"That he is. We'll have to do something about that." 

"Oh, indeed. It'll be grand." 

"What are you painting, little guy?" asked Paradox. 

"It's a dot-picture." 

"What's a dot-picture?" 

"If I add enough dots, it'll start to look like something. You have to add a lot of dots close together to make a picture." The colt's ears pivoted forwards, pricked, but the tips remained ridiculously floppy. "It's super-hard and takes a lot of thinking." 

Carnation asked, "And that's more important than throwing mud at Sundance or having fun?"

Head bobbing up and down, the colt at long last seemed engaged in the conversation. "Yeah." 

"Well, suit yourself, Sweetie Biscuit." 

"Ladies, we're here to throw mud," Sundance said to the two mares. 

With a turn of her head, Paradox focused on Sundance. "Impatient?" 

"There's a lot of mudslingers waiting for a turn," he said, explaining himself. 

"Always thinking of others," Carnation Nosegay said to Paradox. "Shall we begin?" 

"We shall," Paradox replied as her horn ignited. 

A brilliant glow manifested; a mere spark of illumination at first, it became a glittering sphere which was dipped down into the mud. Watching this, Sundance experienced a weighty sinking feeling in his guts, because magic was something that he really didn't understand. The sphere was filled with mud through a process that he could not comprehend, and then Paradox elevated the sphere until it was just in front of her face. Like Sundance, Carnation Nosegay was mesmerised by the sheer spectacle of it all, and she watched with wide-eyed fascination. 

Eyes aglow, Paradox Sunflower lost herself to concentration as the line between magic and art blurred. Crackling aetherfire shimmered around her horn, reflected in her eyes, and the sphere began to deform, no longer spherical but rather egg-shaped. It grew longer, more egg-shaped, as if Paradox were somehow stretching it. Ochre too, was now fixated upon Paradox's miraculous magic, and the colt's mouth hung open in awestruck adoration. 

There was a flare of light along with a pop and then a fine brown mist consumed Sundance. Dodging simply was not possible; the brown-infused air could not be escaped. It seemed to come from every direction and Sundance was left freckled and bespeckled with brown microdots that peppered every square inch of his hide. It was enough to change the colour and appearance of his sunny ochre hide, which now had the general appearance of a polluted fart cloud launched from an industrial smogstack, the very sort that he used to slalom for tawdry thrills. 

"And that," Paradox said to Carnation, "is the difference between knowing a few spells and understanding magic theory. Raw power is fine, but without theory, it lacks substance." 

"I see that now," Carnation replied, her head bobbing with unbridled enthusiasm. 

"How do I do that?" Ochre asked as he waded into the mud to stand near the two chummy mares. "How? I need to know. For painting!" 

"I don't see how this helps me learn to dodge in combat," Sundance said, his pride pricked far more than he would ever admit. In fact, it ached and he very much wanted to go off and sulk. "It's magic. There's no way to avoid it. It's not very fair." 

"You're right." With a broad, sweeping gesture of her wide paw, Megara continued, "This doesn't benefit you much. But, this magic lesson will no-doubt benefit your barony. Would you deny them?" 

Blinking once, Sundance became aware of the sensation of many eyes upon him. Not just Paradox, Carnation, and Ochre, no. Turmeric had a half-smile, but his eyes had more than a hint of worry. Beside him, Hornet seemed apprehensive, or perhaps concerned; but beyond that, Sundance knew that Hornet knew. She knew his pride was pricked. His secret shame could not be hidden from her. There were other eyes as well, so many eyes, from little young eyes to older elder eyes. But Hornet was inescapable and her awareness left him with no options but the honest path. 

Throat dry, a thought crept into his mind; what if magic wasn't the point of this lesson? What if all of this really was about him? That wasn't just his pride puffing itself up, no. He had a vague awareness that his pride could be turned and used against him. Many a pegasus had fallen from their lofty heights because of pride. It was a known weakness—and Megara had to know that. Sundance had never cared too much about his appearance, so why was he so upset right now? Why did this bother him? Because it was unfair? 

Magic was unfair. 

"This is as good of a time as any for a magic lesson," he said, his words somehow bitter and unpleasant. Still, he said them and ignored the lurking irk. He was bothered by his own reaction and knew that there would be some soul-searching later. Maybe his friends would help him. But for now, he would have to swallow his pride. 

Ochre was finally engaged and surely this would be to his benefit; the two mares had him right where they wanted him. All Sundance had to do was swallow his pride—which turned out to be a bit more difficult than anticipated. He wanted to land, to stomp and storm on the ground, flap his wings, and put on a big impressive display. But what would that accomplish, exactly? What lesson would that teach? And all the effort to get Sauerkraut Pie to agree… all wasted. 

"Do yer worst." He sneered, putting on a good act, and in the saying of these words, he discovered the power of letting go. This didn't feel as terrible as he first thought. His pride could survive this—and potentially any other indignity that might happen in battle. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hornet give him a nod. 

"It's a matter of imagination," Paradox began. Not that long ago, she was a student. Now, she was the teacher and she took to her new role with grace and poise. "You have to shape the magic with imagination. You make it elastic. You imagine that it is elastic. With your mind, you pinch one end of the bubble, and pull. You stretch it out. Allow the energy to build. Maintain your focus. Keep thinking about elastic stuff, like stretchy balloons. 

"Pull back until everything feels tight, and then pull a little more. When you do let go, disincorporate the bubble as the elastic energy is released, and if you do it right, your shaped charge will create a forward blast." 

"Who taught you to do this?" asked Carnation Nosegay. 

"Well, I failed at it for a long time," Paradox replied. "My teachers tried to teach me… but things didn't work out. But I persisted. I kept at it. And still didn't get it. It wasn't until Princess Celestia herself pulled me aside and gave me some advice that I finally got it. She told me about the imagination part, and that made everything so much easier than trying to understand directional energy projection and psychokinetic phase-shift sculpting. This is why Princess Celestia is such a great teacher… and it is my most sincere hope that I can pass along what she taught me." 

There was something of a smile on Megara's face and seeing it left Sundance in a strange, unsettled state. A part of him was happy, but he was also annoyed, even though it felt petty and stupid. He'd volunteered for this, agreed to do it, and he was bound to get muddy no matter how well he dodged. His humiliation brought out the best in others, which when he thought about it, he didn't know how to feel about it. Outwardly, there was acceptance, while on the inside, there was a need for a bit more soul searching. But that would come later, in private, when he was alone. 

"Just scoop up some mud for now and we'll worry about point to point teleportation later. Don't worry if everything leaks. It's bound to happen. I still get leaks even with my best containment fields. Perhaps later we'll get some practice going where we try to hold water and for you, Ochre, this will really help you with your painting. Just imagine… you'll be able to mix paints together with nothing but a bit of magic. Once you have some mud, wrap your telekinesis bubble around it and form a basic containment field made from a solidified photon mesh. I'll explain more about that later. Now, try giving it a stretch and see what happens. Remember, imagine. Picture it in your mind's eye. Don't think of it being magic, think of it as a balloon that you need to stretch before you fill it with air." 

Ochre's attempt quite literally exploded in his face and left him with a mask of mud. 

"Whoops! It's fine, little guy. Don't you worry. Always pull and stretch towards you and keep the other end pointed away. It's fine." With a smile that was remarkably similar to Princess Celestia's sunny disposition, Paradox leaned down closer to Ochre to reassure him. "Mistakes have to happen so that you can learn. If you get it right on the first time, you're actually doing it wrong. Princess Celestia told me that." 

Hovering in place, Sundance waited and found himself invested in the success of Paradox's students. He wanted Ochre to learn some magic, and he hoped that the other unicorns were paying attention. Carnation Nosegay had a huge ball of mud held aloft in her magic that rapidly got smaller with each passing second. Paradox was weirdly confident—perhaps paradoxically so—and her typical anxiety seemed absent. Like he himself, Paradox Sunflower had bloomed. 

Patient as ever, Sundance waited for the lesson to play out. 
> Don't muddy the issue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, Sundance. What did you learn this morning?" 

Curiously, Sundance found himself studying his teacher's face and trying to find equine features. Her quivering whiskers fascinated him, distracted him, but finding recognisable equine aspects was very much like spotting landmarks during a long journey. Megara seemed pleased; with him, with how things turned out, with how the entirety of the barony came together for a common goal. This was her job and her neck was on the block, so this had to be a good thing. Perhaps a great thing. 

The velvet lining inside of her ears seemed to be quite pony-like. 

"Magic moves at the speed of thought." 

"Right." The manticoress nodded and her tail twitched thoughtfully. 

"A unicorn's intelligence determines how fast magic travels. I can assess how dangerous a unicorn might be by how fast their magic travels. Though, even stupid unicorns with slow magic can be dangerous." 

"You were paying attention," she said with an alluring half-smile. 

"I like the sound of my teacher's voice," he replied without thinking. 

Then, naturally, he thought about what he just said—and cringed, hard. 

Before she could respond, he blurted out, "As a pegasus, I can sense danger before it happens. It's how we fly through storms. Lightning bolts move at the speed of lightning, and we pegasus ponies can dodge those, so if I'm in tune with myself, I can evade incoming magical bolts." 

"You can." Terrifyingly toothy incisors were visible in the corners of Megara's smile. "Today, you showed some promise. More than I expected, if I'm honest. But all that potential means nothing without lots and lots of practice, so that's what we're gonna work on. When I'm done with you, you'll be almost untouchable. Maybe not Rainbow Dash fast, but good enough." 

"And that'll be done with live-fire exercises. Most likely involving unicorns." 

"Well, they need practice, and so do you. A few blisters on your hide won't kill you. Didn't kill me. Motivated me to do more." 

"Yeah…" There was an overwhelming sinking feeling in Sundance's stomach as he thought about the difficult times ahead. He reminded himself that he was committed to this course of action, and that he trusted Megara to do right by him. After all, if he failed, she failed. So this was best for both of them. The reminder of duty made him sit up a little straighter and he felt better—though he was still apprehensive. 

Training was going to hurt. 

He took a sip of his apple juice and immediately wished he hadn't. The apple powder mixed with eggy water produced a strange, musky, somewhat off-tasting drink that wasn't at all like apple juice. It was Apple Juice Plus, a powdered concoction loaded with vitamins, protein supplements and aminos for carnivores, and every dietary supplement a young or old body needed to remain healthy. Perhaps it might have tasted better without the egginess of the water, which it weirdly accentuated in the worst possible way. 

For some reason, the egginess was barely noticeable in tea. 

Or was it? 

He spent a moment doubting himself, unsure if his senses had grown dull to eggy tea. 

"There'll be lots of armor training and I plan to give you a good clobbering. River Raider might even help. Your wings are vulnerable, but there are a few tricks you can learn that might help. They will always be your weakness so you need to be mindful of them." 

His thoughts turned to crashing through the canopy during his delivery to the swamp. 

"Hornet is going to get her own training program," Megara said to Sundance. "She is your shield. The two of you as a pair will have powerful defense. I am a bit concerned about offense, but we'll bust through that cloud when we come to it." 

Out of the corner of his eye, on the very edge of his vision, Sundance saw Turmeric and Silent Thunder. The small colt was up on the table, perhaps not the best place to be. Hollyhock was laughing, clutching her sides even, and Sundance turned his head to take in the spectacle. Silent Thunder was sitting in front of Turmeric, and the two were mimicking and mocking one another, a near-perfect mirror of each others' actions. Both took everything, every motion, every expression, to dramatic extremes. 

Somewhat overcome with emotion, Sundance allowed himself to watch. Laughter spread through the dining area like wildfire and the musky, eggy apple juice no longer mattered. Turmeric didn't make a sound; he was as silent as the mute colt, but his lips moved as if he were speaking. His eyebrows performed complicated facial gymnastics, moving with a fluidity that Sundance did not believe possible, and somehow through it all, little Silent Thunder kept up. 

Not only were ponies finding themselves, but they appeared to find each other. 

Her voice a mere whisper, Megara said to Sundance, "This is what you are fighting for." 

Before he could respond the door burst open and several changelings entered. They appeared agitated, or perhaps excited, and as a group they hurried through the crowded dining hall, making a beeline for Sundance, who sat in the rear corner. Laughter diminished and good cheer turned silent. Hard chitin clattered against the wooden floorboards and one 'ling pulled ahead of the others. 

"Milord… you must come at once. We've found something that you should see! Something you must see! You must come with us!" 



 

The younger changelings acted just like foals, overly excited as they pronked to and fro. As for the somewhat older changeling, he was a bit more quiet, a bit more reserved—but also excited. His restraint was admirable, incredible, but his barely-withheld energy proved infectious. Sundance, now outside and standing near the door to the dining hall, waited patiently for the messenger to compose himself. 

"We found a temple," the messenger 'ling said to Sundance. "It's been sealed off and it is in beautiful condition. 

"Is it next to a different temple… with a love spring?" asked Sundance. 

"How did you know?" The 'ling's emerald-faceted eyes glittered with a soft internal glow. "The love spring has been quite beneficial to us. We bask in its magic like lizard-creatures in the sun and we even bathe in it. It's proven to be quite restorative… it supercharges our magic, which has hastened our construction efforts and—" 

"About this new temple," Sundance said. 

"Well, the new temple is a ways further up the old road. Which isn't much of a road at all. The forest has consumed it. We sensed strange magic… unfamiliar magic that is completely unknown to us. We younglings were sent out to scout, and we found a complex of unknown purpose, ruins mostly, and then we found the entrance in the mountainside. It was difficult to open, but not beyond our combined skill. We did a primary investigation to see if it was safe, and then I was sent to fetch you." 

"Huh," Sundance said, a low murmur in his throat. 

"You say it is a temple." Brows furrowed, Paradox Sunflower moved a single step closer to the mostly composed 'ling. "Any markings? Symbols? Glyphs?" 

"There are phoenixes everywhere," the 'ling replied. "And statues of Princess Celestia. It appears to be far more modern than the old temple. More advanced construction techniques. We found still-burning fires inside." 

"Fires?" Paradox's eyes narrowed with concern. "I cannot help but wonder if this hidden temple still has visitors." 

"That seems unlikely," the changeling said. "It is old. Musty. A bit dusty. Undisturbed. There are no trails. No place to land. The entrance was locked." 

This got a doubtful nod from Paradox, who said, "So you say." 

For the first time, Sundance noticed Fudge Turnover, who stood nearby with her ears fully pricked. Her eyes were bright, inquisitive, and she seemed eager about something. Why had she followed them out? Some ponies, it seemed, failed to overcome the curiousness of youth. Argyle too, had come out, and while Sundance stood staring, Cherry Turnover—with Liberty slung from her neck—joined them. The whole family had come out, but only Fudge seemed interested in what was said.

"Sundance, we should go have a look at this. If it is what I think it is"—Paradox paused, pondering—"it could answer a lot of questions." 

"Questions?" Sundance questioned, though his questioning was rather questionable. 

"Yes, questions. You know, those sentences of inquiry you ask when you want to know something. Very often you get no answers, and you remain frustrated." 

Amused—perhaps too much so for his own good—Sundance found himself smiling. He liked Paradox's snark, and took it as a sign that she trusted him. A change had come over Paradox though, like a shadow, a subtle shift in behaviour that could not be ignored. Something bothered her and he assumed it was because she knew something. This was a good thing; she was the barony's wizard, the resident expert in magic. There was a hungry look in her eye that had nothing to do with food—and Sundance suspected that it was some kind of unicorn lust for power. Or perhaps not. Maybe it wasn't fair to judge his friend and helpmate in such a way. 

"One of Equestria's great mysteries might be soon answered." 

Frustrated by this cryptic statement, Sundance let go an unsettled huff. 

"It makes sense though… they returned to Princess Celestia's ancestral lands. We should go… sooner the better. Sundance?" 

"Yes?" 

"Will you prepare my chariot?" 

He snortled. Her chariot? His sky truck. 

"There is no place to land," the 'ling interjected. "We'll have to carry you." 

"That is less than ideal," Paradox replied. 

"I want to go!" 

Almost mechanically, Sundance's head swiveled so that he might look right at Fudge Turnover. He was not alone; Argyle stared at his wife with open-mouthed shock, or perhaps horror. Maybe both. It was difficult to read his expression. Cherry Turnover was smirking, but did so outside of her husband's field of vision, standing just behind him. Argyle was recovering, rapidly, and his lower jaw waggled as he began to inhale. 

"Absolutely not," Argyle said, and there was no trace of his cultured charm to be found in his words. 

"Why not?" asked Fudge, who seemed downright annoyed with her husband. 

"Respectable ponies do not adventure." 

For some strange reason, Sundance was deeply offended, but he kept his mouth shut—for now. 

"Still worried about our public image—" 

"I am," Argyle said, and he drew in a deep breath. "We can still salvage something of our—" 

"I think not," Fudge said, cutting her husband off. "Our names might as well be Mud. Mister Mud, and his Mudwives. Our situation cannot possibly get any worse." 

"But it can… it can, and it will. We must maintain whatever shred of respectability that we have. And that means we don't go galavanting off on… adventure." Argyle spat out the last word as if it had a terrible taste. 

"Since when do you tell me what to do, you—" 

"Since the mother of my dearest, darling filly has taken leave of her senses, that's when!" 

"We had our home burned down and we fled in the night like unwanted grifters," Fudge said to her husband, her tone one of eerie calm. "We've allied ourselves with the Crown, because what else could we possibly do? Now we've lost everything that was dear to us, except for ourselves… and my beloved husband, father of my daughter, now acts like a boorish gadfly. He's telling me what to do for my own good… have you become a stranger to me, Husband?" 

Sundance's ears pricked at the sound of Paradox swallowing. 

"We shouldn't make things worse for ourselves—" 

"This is our chance to be free," Fudge said to her husband, her eyes narrow, pleading. "We can finally stop caring about what others think. It doesn't mean that we become villains, and stop caring about what others think completely… but we can be happy. We can't lose our jobs. Can't be voted out. We don't have to please the city of Fillydelphia and bow and scrape for our own existence." 

"Fudgy… I…" 

"You're sorry, I know." 

"That wasn't what I was about to say—oh." His sentence self-terminated and Argyle practically withered from Fudge Turnover's glower power. 

"Cherry, tell him." 

"Fudge… no. This is something the two of you need to sort out. But… he does need to apologise." Taking a step backwards, Cherry Turnover excused herself from the spat. "We've never told each other what to do in such an uncouth way. That's not us." 

"Yeah, we passively-aggressively snipe one another and make awful jokes," Fudge Turnover said. "Or we have a moment of theatre. But we never just outright make commands like—" 

"But I am being commanded to apologise." Ears back, brows crinkled, Argyle shook his head from side to side. 

"You don't have to apologise." Irked, Fudge Turnover turned up her nose in her husband's general direction. "Just like I don't have to listen to what you say." 

"I object—"

"So do I," Fudge spat out in response. "Tensions are high right now, but you are being completely unreasonable." 

"Unreasonable… unreasonable? I am not the one about to besmirch my good name by going on an… an… adventure!" 

"Listen to yourself." Drawing herself up to her full height, Fudge Turnover scowled at her husband. "You're besmirching your good name right now with how you're acting! Sundance, our kind and gracious host, is clearly an adventurer!" 

For a few seconds, Sundance discovered what the sound of a pony swallowing their own tongue sounded like. He maintained his steadfast silence however, and didn't stick his nose where it didn't belong. Was he an adventurer? Well, yes, yes he was. He'd taken part in the slaying of an ogre, and if that didn't make one an adventurer, then what did? Oh bother. What might his mother say? 

Princess Celestia had once adventured, but had given it up to become respectable. 

Was he a respectable lord? 

Would others have something awful to say beneath their breath upon encountering him? 

Was he a… barbarian? 

"For whatever it's worth"—the apprehension was apparent in Paradox's hesitant words—"this seems like a good starter adventure. Nice and safe." 

"I don't want my daughter teased because of her mother's… unseemly actions." Tail swishing, every muscle tense, Argyle shook his head from side to side. "This is the sort of thing that stays with you… a stain upon your reputation. A mark. A brand. It doesn't wash off." 

"That's a little unfair of you," Paradox replied. "I've gone on adventure, and I consider myself to be completely and totally respectable. I'm a wholesome unicorn, sound of mind and body." 

"I can't win, can I?" asked Argyle. After a moment, it dawned upon him that this battle could not be won, and his proud withers sagged as his neck bowed. "Go then. Go off and get eaten. I shall mourn your passing." Then, with a dramatic sniffle, Argyle turned tail so that he might retreat, and he took off at a rapid gallop. 

"Argyle, wait, hear me out if you—" 

"Sundance, let him go." Cherry Turnover's words were soft. Kind. Pleasant. Maternal, even. "He's not well right now. Not himself. We really shouldn't hold this against him. Honestly, I think his refusal to allow Fudgy to go adventuring is more about clinging to the life we once had. He just wants things to stay the same." She sighed, then turned to her sister. "Fudgy, go have an adventure. I'll stay here to clean up the mess and see what I can do to get Argyle sorted out. Just… just don't hold this against him, please?" 

A non-committal harrumph was all that Fudge Turnover had to offer in return. 

"I think… I think I understand." For a brief moment, Paradox turned to look in the direction of Argyle's retreat. "It can be difficult to face new things and sometimes you just want to keep what's familiar. I've been struggling with that myself." 

"Just keep my sister safe, please?" Cherry flexed her knees and this caused Liberty to bounce in her sling. "Fudgy… she's Argyle's solid rock. More so than I am. She's his comfort… his lighthouse when seas are stormy." 

"He takes me for granted—" 

"Maybe he does, Sister. Anyhow… go have a good time. You deserve it. Between Libby and Argyle, you've been caring for two big babies, so go have fun." 

"Those are some nice sister-words," Fudge Turnover said. 

"I'll see to it that she is kept safe. We should get going… I'm eager to see what's been found. You lot" —Sundance now spoke to the younglings directly— "you're going to escort our esteemed guest, Fudge Turnover. We want her returned to her family without any missing pieces. Got that, gigglebugs?" 

"Righto!" one of the pronking 'lings replied mid-pronk. 

"Well… let's be off on our adventure!" 
> Discovering the Dark
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A stately pine stood tall, having sprouted amid a pile of rubble. What was once a tower of some sort, a round dwelling perhaps, was now just ruin, along with everything else. Something about the pine tree intrigued Sundance, because trees took time to grow and this one had been here for a while. The old stones were covered in brown and greying pine needles and the foundation was buried in leaf litter. This foundation was just one of many alongside the old road that ran from east to west along the base of the mountains. 

They were perhaps twenty miles or so east of the temple with the love spring. 

Changelings patrolled the ruins, exploring every nook and cranny. These stones would be collected, gathered up, and repurposed. Everything old and crumbling would be given new life with new construction. As much as it excited Sundance to recycle the old, he felt a bit sad that the ruins would be, well, destroyed. Many of the old cut stones were still good, even covered in exotic slime molds, lichen, fungus, and mildew. 

Fudge Turnover was having an adventure. The earth pony mare trotted from place to place, chatting with the changelings, examining old stone piles, and even pronked about like an excited filly when the mood took her. Megara helped a few changelings lift a massive stone door that had fallen over. Why they wanted to have a look beneath it was unknown, or maybe Sundance failed to pay attention to some important detail. Meanwhile, Hornet chatted with her fellow 'lings, all of whom were happy for her. 

Near the entrance that led into the undermountain, Paradox Sunflower studied the doorway, her face scrunched in such a way that it was almost unrecognisable. At her command, several changelings made paper rubbings of the carved stone doorway, which had stylistic phoenixes on either side. It was Paradox who had said the ruins outside were far, far older than the stone door itself, suggesting that this old settlement had been here for a long time, while the temple excavation was a bit more recent. Though how recent was unknown to Sundance. 

"There are more ruins just like these," one of the changelings said to Sundance. "We've found them every few miles or so. Not really towns, or even villages, near as we can tell. Just some buildings. Probably so ponies pulling wagons along this road could rest, have some food, and get a drink. Everything was made of stone, and we haven't found any old rotten wood." 

Glancing at the circular foundation, Sundance thought it to be an old guard tower, perhaps. What a mighty road this once was, with guard towers every few miles. One would need a mighty garrison of troops to populate the well-established fortifications. How much of this was built by Princess Celestia, by her command? And what of those who came after? Sundance suspected that the road went all the way east to Fillydelphia, or at least that region. Yet now, the once mighty road was but a ruin, decaying in decline. 

And if everything along this road was made from stonework, which seemed to be the case—Sundance's mind couldn't conceive of the effort and labour required for such a task. It was easy to slap together something made of wood, but laying stone took effort and skill. It was labour-intensive. You would need an army of stonecutters to make all these fortifications that housed your army of guards. The sheer enormity of it all humbled Sundance, and overwhelmed his thoughts. 

"We found a keystone!" a changeling shouted as Megara huffed, puffed, and grunted from exertion. 

"Does it have a date?" asked Paradox. 

"We don't know," two of the changelings replied together in one voice. "It is covered in mud and slime. The manticore is mighty. All of us together could not lift that fallen stone door." 

One of the changelings lifted up the curious stone, sprayed it with a fine mist of acid, and then began cleaning it. Sundance watched, patient, his interest captured. The small female drone was fastidious, slow, and spared no effort. Centuries of gunk were scrubbed away with all due care. Fudge Turnover came running over to have a better look, but kept a safe distance because acid-spitting changelings demanded respect. 

"Baroness Gleaming Glare," the 'ling said as she continued to scrub. "By the decree of Baroness Gleaming Glare… and that's all it says. There's some symbols though. A shoe, a hammer, and stuff I don't recognise." 

"I know who that is," Paradox said. 

"You do?" Try as he might, Sundance could not hide his surprise, and he wished that he'd studied more history. 

"Gleaming Glare was an auroramancer. She was known as the Purging Light, and also as the Sanctifier. She was one of the many wives of Benthoof the Bloody, Scourge of Griffons. Gleaming was an undead slayer. She lived over seven-hundred years ago and it is said that she torched whole armies of the shambling dead. All of this makes sense now." 

"It does?" asked Sundance, who couldn't make sense of anything. 

"The stone construction, structures that do not burn, and the close proximity to one another, just a few miles apart. These are sanctuaries for ponies traveling along the road to flee too if they were set upon by the undead." 

"Equestria used to be a lot more exciting," Megara remarked. 

"Not sure I'd use that word, exciting," Paradox said in return. 

"Back then, you had a lot of wild magic around," Megara mused aloud. "Discord's legacy was still pretty strong. A lot of his abominations were very much alive. Necromancy was popular because it made it easy to survive. Equestria really wasn't settled or safe until just a couple of centuries ago… and the wilds are still profoundly dangerous, even now." 

"They are," Sundance said beneath his breath, mostly to himself. 

"The cities are somewhat safe, though giant monsters still crawl up out of the ocean from time to time. Sea dragons and sea monsters make life on the coast exciting." Scratching her chin, Megara continued, "But inland, you have all kinds of random monsters… which is why I'm employed. You leave the cities and in no time at all, you are in mortal peril. Lots of fun to be had in wild Equestria." 

"Yeah," Paradox said, nodding, "fun." 

"So, Paradox… something tells me that you know what this place is. Not this ruin"—Megara stabbed her extended paw-thumb at the massive doorway—"but that place. What is it?" 

"It's the Cult of the Phoenix," Paradox replied. "Or the Phoenix Cult. They had a number of names. They existed a long time ago, about three-hundred or so years ago, and then they just sort of faded out of existence. Just one cult among many." 

"Oh." Lowering her paw, Megara said, "Never heard of them." 

"Most haven't. They worshipped Princess Celestia, which isn't all that strange, but they also worshipped phoenixes. I'll tell you more when we get inside. It'll be nice to tell the story in those sanctified halls." 

"Well then… what are we waiting for?" asked Sundance. 



 

"If anything jumps out and tries to take a bite of Fudge, I want you to unscrew their heads, Meg." 

"That's kinda brutal coming from you, Sundance. Just saying. I'll do it, though. That right there, that's how a leader gives orders. I'm proud!" 

Standing just beyond the doorway, Sundance gave his eyes time to adjust to the dim light. Flames flickered faintly in recessed hollows placed every few yards along the smooth granite walls. No candles, no torches, no lamps, just flames, which was more than a little strange. The floor had a downward slope, a soft incline that he knew would add up considerably if given enough distance. Above him was a mountain, an untold, unfathomable mass of tons of rock that he didn't much like to think about. 

"This place seems safe," one of the changelings said. "We've only done a little scouting, but we can sense no life inside, beyond a few spiders or maybe bugs. Not even giant spiders. Just little tiny cute ones." 

"My dad has lots of stories to tell about giant spiders," Megara said to no one in particular. "Every time I go into a place like this one, I hope to encounter some giant spiders so that I as well have some giant spider stories to tell." 

"Why would an insectoid creature find spiders cute?" asked Fudge Turnover. 

"Uh, I don't have a good answer for that." 

"I can turn into a giant spider," another changeling said. "With giant grody fangs and a huge hairy butt and fuzzy-wuzzy spider legs." 

"Good for you," Fudge Turnover said with a shudder. "Don't." 

"D'aw, I wanted a reason to turn into the dancing disco spider. With eight legs, I've really got the moves." 

"I'd like to see that," the changeling who thought spiders were cute said. "Maybe you could tie me up later? I could be your helpless victim. Yeah!" 

"Alright, gigglebugs, that's enough of that." The struggle to keep a straight face was real and Sundance had to fight to keep his face from betraying him. 

"Free from the shadow of our former evil queen, we can be silly," the two changelings said together in unison. "Being silly is serious business. It's the responsibility of being free." 

"I'm having an adventure with silly changelings," Fudge Turnover said. "This is great. I can't wait to tell this story to Libby!" 



 

The flaming phoenix mosaic on the floor had to be made of tens of thousands of tiny pieces of precious stones, all of which were set in copper and had some sort of smooth, completely translucent layer above them. It was the sort of art made for royals by masters of their craft, priceless in nature. Several changelings were cleaning it, scrubbing away the dust and grime of neglect. 

"I never thought I'd find this place," Paradox said, her voice almost a reverent whisper. "Seeing all of this… it's almost like I'm having a Twilight Sparkle moment. She went searching for Star Swirl's lost library, you know. For some reason, she's not allowed to say if she found it. Assuming she did, it must have been like this, right now." 

"Yeah, but what is this place?" asked Sundance. 

"The Cult of the Phoenix," Paradox began, "were a secretive group of Princess Celestia worshipping unicorns. But more than that. Some say they were a monastic order of sorts. They practiced extreme altruism, gave up all possessions, all belongings, and lived their lives in the service of others. They pledged to use their magic for the benefit of society and those around them." 

During a brief pause, Paradox inhaled. 

"They believed that if they lived perfect lives of service, free of greed, living as though touched by the lost Element of Generousity, that they could be reborn. Just like the phoenix. When they died, they would have their bodies cremated, and if they were worthy, they would be born again to live anew." 

"So they lived to get a reward," Megara said. "Doesn't sound too altruistic to me." 

Turning her head in Megara's direction, Paradox scowled. 

"Look, I'm just saying… they went through all that trouble and gave up everything and endured all that deprivation in the hopes that they would get rewarded. That's a form of greed." 

"I disagree." 

"Sundance?" Hooves clip-clopping against the floor, Paradox moved closer. 

"I live in service to others," he said, uncertain of what to say or how to say it. "I've given the whole of my life to Twilight Sparkle's plan… so… I think I can understand this cult. Maybe. Just a bit. You don't give your life to cause… at least not in this way, with so much invested… I'm probably really messing up my words here… look, what I'm trying to say is, when you give all of yourself to something you believe in, what you want is some validation that you're doing the right thing. So if they came here to die and to have their bodies burned and had hopes of being born again, maybe they just wanted proof that they weren't throwing their lives away." 

Not long after the last of his words left his mouth, Sundance became acutely aware of the fact that everypony—everyone—was staring at him. There was a prickle in his scalp, a tightness in his guts, and tension in his tail. His mouth opened, his jaw moved up and down, but no words came, just soft throaty sounds that accomplished nothing of meaning. He looked down and saw the phoenix in the floor looking up at him. 

"I wish that my beloved Argyle was here to hear you say that." 

Lifting his head, Sundance glanced at Fudge Turnover and nodded. 

"Nopony came back from the flames, or so it is said." Eyes downcast, ears splayed low, Paradox shook her head. "They built such great works. Libraries. Schools. Hospitals. They helped to modernise Equestria. Much of their construction survives to this day. But none came back from the flames, and so the flame went out. They just sort of vanished. Faded away. Failed to attract new members, I guess. And this… this is all that is left of them. Princess Celestia will want to know about this, because this is their revivarium. But nopony revived. If these walls could talk, what stories might they tell?" 

"Pebble could make the walls talk," Megara remarked. 

Saying nothing, Paradox stared at the much larger manticore with a curious, hopeful expression. 

"Most rocks don't have much to say, and what they do have to say is, well, not worth hearing. But every now and then, you get a helpful rock that's in a mood to be nice. That, or Pebble has to threaten to shatter it… but the rocks see that as a form of sexual reproduction and goad her on to punch them and they sexually harass her and… you know what, I'm gonna shut my meow-hole now. Sorry." 

Revivarium. Sundance allowed the word to roll around inside his head while he made an effort to avoid thinking about perverted rocks. The fact that rocks had awareness at all bothered him on a deep level. Ponies lived with rocks. Sat on top of stones. Had houses made of rocks. And if rocks had awareness, which it seemed that they did—Sundance did not want to think about the disturbing implications, no. He wanted to think about the new word in his vocabulary, revivarium. 

Did the stones judge them? 

Sundance's sudden surge of insecurity suggested that might be the case. 

"You just had to open up your meow-hole," Sundance said to Megara. 

She seemed baffled by his words and her glowing orange eyes narrowed. "What?" 

"You know what you did," he said to her. "You know exactly what you did." 

"What'd I do?" she asked, clearly not knowing what she had done. 

The harsh look that Sundance gave the manticore was the sort of expression that only friends could get away with. Unbeknownst to him, it was the very same look that Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, had turned upon her friends a great many times, with Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie being the most common targets, and Fluttershy being the recipient only once. Megara's claws clickety-clacked against the floor as she bore the full brunt of Sundance's withering stare. 

"Stop that," she said to him, "you look too much like Octavia right now and it's creepin' me out. That's the same look that Vinyl gets, and my dad… and just what was it that I did to deserve that, anyhow?" 

In response, Sundance offered up a dismissive wave of his wing. 

"Princess Celestia makes that same face, too," Paradox said to nopony in particular. "Probably for the same reasons. I wonder if I do it, too?" 



 

The secret lair of the Cult of the Phoenix, beyond being exquisitely decorated, was a solemn place of quiet reflection. Long hallways stretched between lonesome chambers, a forgotten sepulchre buried beneath the mountain. Of all the different rooms found so far, this one was the one that struck Sundance right in the feelings, and he had trouble dealing with what he saw. 

Thousands of stone urns. 

Thousands upon thousands of stone urns, all arranged in neat rows on ornate stone racks. And this was just one room of many. How many unicorns had died in service to their cause? So many had died, none had revived, and yet, so many kept to the faith. Why? What made them stay the course? For that matter, what made him stay the course? As he stood among the urns, he thought about his own life, and beyond just that, he pondered how he would not see the end results of his hard work. He would die long before the task was completed, before there were results—he would die never knowing. 

His soft sigh disturbed the dust. 

"They kept the faith," Fudge Turnover said, and as she spoke she leaned up against Sundance's side. "Even when it must have seemed pointless to do so… I try to keep the faith, too. My faith in the Earth Pony Way… in democracy… in all the things we earth ponies hold dear, even as it crumbles down around us. I think… I think that's what it must have been like for them. To see so many of their own dying from old age, or disease, or whatever it was that brought about their end… and none of them ever came back. It's like you said, I think they wanted validation. But that never came. In the end, all they had was their faith, and even that was dying." 

Uncertain of how to respond, Sundance slipped his wing over Fudge Turnover's back, all while hoping that his actions weren't untoward. She seemed disturbed, distraught, disheartened. He thought of their conversation during lunch. How long ago was that? Not long, but it felt so long ago. Time was different now. Fluid. Elastic. 

"It hurts to look at," she said, her words a soft murmur. "Imagine seeing all of this and thinking… knowing that you'll end up here as well, yet still hoping that things might work out, so you commit yourself to the flames. I don't know if I'm that brave. I'd like to think that I am, but I just don't know." 

"Is that why you came with us?" he asked. "To see if adventure suits you?" 

"I don't know," she replied. "Everything I used to believe in doesn't… it's not… there's no…" Her words turned into a heartbroken gasp, and she leaned even more of her weight against Sundance. 

"When there is nothing left, when you have let go of everything, then you will be free," Sundance said. 

"That's a nice saying," Fudge Turnover replied. 

"It's written on the side of that urn over there," he said to her whilst he nodded in the urn's direction. 

"Oh… how remarkably appropriate for the situation." 

Some distance away, Paradox walked between a row of urns, her head turning this-a-way and that-a-way. She had a small parade of changelings that followed her, each of them silent, solemn, and not at all silly. In the archway of the door, Megara sat in the dust, her expression one of profound sadness, with a hint of defeat, and she scratched her fuzzy chin with forlorn absentmindedness. Hornet stood beside her, almost unmoving, her pegasus form expressionless. 

"If this was my reward," Megara said to Hornet beside her, "I'd feel cheated." 

"I don't get why the dead are put in jars," Hornet replied. 

"It's a pony thing. Well, others do it too. Ponies are monument makers and memorial builders. The future is tempered by remembering the past, my dad says." 

"But no one here is remembered," Hornet said with a shake of her head. "These dead in jars are long since forgotten." 



 

This room was not like the others. Narrow, not very long, it was sparse, spartan even, with the only decorative feature in the room being a statue of a unicorn. Paradox, ever the eager scholar, had rushed forward to study it, while Sundance decided to hang back and give her plenty of space. The statue, like the room, was not particularly fancy. It was detailed enough, but did not show individual coat hairs. If it was anything like the unicorn it resembled, then that unicorn was painfully plain and utterly unremarkable. A short-shorn mane, with a longer than average horn, strange ears that had a distinct and unique curve to them, narrow eyes, along with a masculine form that was curiously feminine or a feminine form that was decidedly masculine. 

"I've long studied your works." Little more than a faint, almost scratchy whisper, Paradox's words were barely audible. "While my fellow students played at recess, I studied your notes on field manipulation. You had no way of knowing that you were right… you didn't even know the names of the forces that you harnessed. Such brilliance. I understood your work like nopony else. It was never about power, but understanding. You were my best teacher." 

"Perhaps you could introduce us?" asked Sundance, who rather felt that he was intruding upon a private moment. 

"This is Eternal Dark," Paradox replied, still whispering. "Princess Celestia's most loyal, most dedicated, most faithful devotee. At least, during the time when he was alive. It is said that he only told Princess Celestia no just once." 

"Just once? So he was a yes-pony?" 

"Hah… Sundance…" A nervous peal of laughter escaped from Paradox, and she squirmed beneath the statue's unblinking lithoid gaze. 

He waited; surely she had more so say. 

"Those were dark times… dark, dark times you understand. Dark times that suited the Dark family. Hehe—uh—um… where was I? Oh, right. Princess Celestia, she um, she politely asked Eternal Dark to stop burning her opposition to cinders and making ash piles of those who threatened to unthrone her. Such a simple request… simple request though it might be, he refused and told her no. Those were different times… the dark times that eventually led up to Equestria's Civil War. Which took a long time to uh, um, foment? Is that the right word? Might be. There was a long slow decline, a few plagues, and a whole lot of trouble. The Darks basically kept Princess Celestia in power." 

"He sounds… a bit brutal—" 

"Oh, he was very polite. Chivalrous. Kind and forthright." 

"So he was nice when he set you on fire?" 

Paradox's nervous tittering was her only response. 

"I'm sure he had other qualities that made him memorable—" 

"Oh, he did. He advanced particle physics, applied scientific principles to magic theory, created what we now call the particle model, laid out the foundations of understanding for quantum magical theory, created a spell for isolating thaumatons for study and observation, and so many other accomplishments. Too many to list. He also founded the Cult of the Phoenix, which is strangely fitting for a pony with the name Eternal. Quite fitting, wouldn't you agree?" 

"Indeed—" 

"He just vanished one day. Nopony knows where he went. Some thought him murdered. Others told fantastic tales of how he created a mirror so that he could travel to other worlds. A few suggested that Princess Celestia banished him to the place where she banishes ponies because he told her no. But here he is. He came here, to this place, and died. He's uh, actually, the source of quite a number of conspiracy theories, including the whole Phoenix Cult Conspiracy." 

Knowing full well that if he said anything, he would only be interrupted, Sundance waited.

"Historians… well, I don't know if you can call conspiracy theorists historians, but I digress. Where was I? Oh, right… historians, which are really just well-spoken and well-educated conspiracy theorists, they theorise that Princess Celestia ordered Eternal Dark to create the Phoenix Cult. Which sounds totally crazy, but also completely plausible." 

Paradox inhaled with a scratchy wheeze. 

"Those were times of progress. Unicorns were always the weakest of the three tribes. High mortality rates. Many mares died while foaling. Foals themselves didn't survive foalhood maladies and diseases. There was a lot of death leading up to that point. Plagues and such. Bad things. Bad times. But, while Eternal Dark was alive, that was the time when change took hold. More unicorns lived. Their population boomed. They started to survive. Vaccinations and such worked to great effect. 

"There were suddenly a lot of unicorns in Equestria. A whole lot of unicorns, and not all of them could be important. Not every unicorn gets to be a lord, or a baron, or a duke, or somepony with a cushy life. You started to get a huge number of unicorn commoners, and they hated that. They really resented it. Some wanted to rule, believing that unicorns had a right to rule. They didn't much care for peasant work and mucking out barns and they resented a life of hard labour. 

"So, naturally, there were uprisings… and revolts… and rebellions… and the Darks and others loyal to Princess Celestia had to put the dissenters down. The Civil War was coming, that much seems obvious when you look at it with a historian's eye. Anyhow… word has it that Princess Celestia had Eternal Dark create this cult of altruism to bring the unicorns back into the fold and keep peace in Equestria. Which might be true. She denies it of course and insists that Eternal Dark struck off on his own. But that doesn't change the fact that his actions brought some measure of peace to a troubled nation, and delayed the events that caused our uncivil dispute." 

"That does, in fact, sound like something Princess Celestia would do," Megara said, speaking for the first time. Standing in the doorway, she scratched her chin for a short time, then shook her head. "Just look at what Princess Twilight Sparkle is doing. Social engineering on a massive scale. If you ask me, Princess Celestia totally planned all of this and played coy about it because the end results benefited her and her little ponies." 

"It's all about us little ponies," Paradox said with a nod of agreement. 

"The real lesson to be learned here," Sundance said, "is that it is dangerous to tell Princess Celestia no. She might involve you in one of her social engineering projects as punishment." 

"You said yes." 

"That I did, Paradox… but what if I'd said no?" 

"So… did she plan this… or did Eternal?" asked Megara. 

"Well," Paradox began, "this is on her ancestral lands. And this whole temple was probably something else before the cult moved in and renovated the place. She probably knew that this place was here and maybe told Eternal where to find it. There's a royal ransom in rubies and gemstones, plus all the magic fixtures to be found here. Eternal Dark had to have resources to start the cult. There's books to print and propaganda, and spreading the good word, and so many other tasks to be done. I mean, starting a religion is no simple task. Getting ponies to believe can be a tough sell." 

"More so for this." Wing extended, Sundance started to rub his chin. "You've got to convince unicorns to give up their aspirations of nobility and convince them to live lives of servitude. To throw aside whatever wealth they might have had and live in service to others in need. That's… I wouldn't even know where to begin." 

"You know, Sundance… you could revive this cult. Make the phoenix rise up from the ashes—" 

"Megara, don't make jokes like that." 

"Sundance… I'm not joking." 

Teeth almost gritted, every muscle in his back tense, Sundance cast his stern gaze upon the manticoress to read her face. 

"Look, you don't have to promise them that they'll be reborn in the flames. You could just… I dunno"—she shrugged with both her wings and her forelegs—"just be honest and maybe convince ponies that this is the right thing to do. Or maybe this is dumb. Without some kind of carrot, they have no reason to join. Nevermind me, I don't know what I'm talking about." 

Eternal Dark's weighty observance remained unblinking—a good thing, because blinking statues were a cause for alarm. 

"It seems to me that Paradox is delighted to be here," he said while still rubbing his chin. "And if she's happy to be here, then others will be happy to tour this place. Once we get the resorts up and running, we could do historical tours. Educational tours." 

"And we could be tourist herders," one of the changelings said. 

Immediately, without hesitation, Sundance replied, "Oh, that's not a bad idea." 

"It's not?" Tilting her head in a specifically equinesque manner, Hornet turned away from the statue to make eye-contact with Sundance. 

"It would help the changelings," he replied. "Ponies would interact with them. Have a nice experience. It could only help relations." 

"This is the nuts and bolts of society," Fudge Turnover said as she approached the statue of Eternal Dark. "I study the civic sciences. Manipulating the masses to work together towards a common goal is no simple thing. The real trick isn't just getting society to work, but making them believe that they want to do it. A cult has the ways and means of making its members believe in the fantastical… or even the mediocre and mundane." 

Her expression soured. 

"Voting, it is said, is a clever ruse to get everypony to share what they are thinking. That's easier said than done. Argyle, bless my beloved's heart, will spew out a windstorm's worth of words, all of them quite pretty and eloquent, but getting him to speak his actual mind is an almost impossible task. A lot of us earth ponies are strong and silent types, or loquacious motormouths that don't actually have much to say. There are some that believe that earth ponies adopted voting as a sort of means of survival, not just for herd consensus, but also so that we know what we're thinking as a whole." 

"And by getting others to vote, you can see if your social manipulations are working or if your plans need fine-tuning," Paradox said to Fudge Turnover, who now stood beside her. "You can refine your plan in real-time. Make adjustments. Which might be a reason why Princess Celestia is a big fan of voting." 

"Right. But it all goes wrong once somepony puts their own selfish interests ahead of that of the herd… and that's why Fillydelphia is burning. Somehow, we were made to work against our own self-interests. We have all these competing interests… the landlords and the industrialists and the investment firms and bankers... which makes me wonder… is that why Princess Celestia's plans tend to work out? I mean, if she's really the one responsible for this cult and its accomplishments, if she was the architect of this massive, unimaginable scale of grand social manipulation… do you think it worked out because she focused on our interests rather than her own? What I'm trying to say is, she didn't do this for her own gain. We got the benefit. These unicorns built modern Equestria and left behind a legacy of libraries and hospitals and aqueducts, all of the things that make Equestria what it is." 

Humbled, and perhaps feeling more than a little stupid, Sundance came to one conclusion: he had nothing meaningful or relevant to add to this conversation. All he could do was listen—and maybe take all these words to heart. He was but a small part of Twilight's grand plan—a project of such scale that he could barely comprehend it—and all of it could, in theory, be ruined if he put his own interests ahead of said plan. Suddenly, selfishness and greed felt profoundly dangerous, and he could not help but wonder if he was the right pony for the job. A great weight settled upon his neck, he felt his head bow somewhat, and nothing could be done to resist the hard tug of gravity that bore him down. 

"There's still more to see," Paradox said to all. "Let's keep looking. There's much to be learned here." 
> And it burns, burns, burns
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

These hallowed halls held secrets, but no means to convey them. There was history here—the air was thick with it—but if this place were a book its pages were written in a text that Sundance could not read. Emptiness, dust, and flickering flames awaited him and his companions in every room, every alcove, every carved stone chamber. This place was a tomb, but what had died here was unknown. These secrets were taken to the grave, or the crematorium in this instance, and burned into a fine ash that told no tales. 

Paradox Sunflower grew increasingly frustrated that there were so few books discovered. What little there was to be found was largely useless and offered no information, no answers, nothing of meaning. Whatever secrets the cult knew, whatever great truths they had hoarded, they took with them into the Great Beyond. Old barracks had rotting beds, empty shelves, and offered no insight into those who had once lived here. 

As for Sundance, he could not help but feel a profound sense of loss. 

Stricken with a sombre mood, afflicted with introspection, Sundance followed along behind Paradox. She knew the symbols, the glyphs, the many markers on the walls, none of which he could read. What a gift Princess Celestia had given him; Paradox was more than a mere scholar, she was family as well. Her keen intellect and years of attentive study proved to be powerful assets, and Sundance wondered if he was as appreciative enough of them as he should be. 

"They're all gone," one of the changelings said. 

"All gone," another added. 

"None came back from the flames." Tight vocal chords gave Paradox's voice an almost reedy whine. "The miracle never came. As Sundance said, their ways were never validated. They probably failed to attract new members. Those who remained grew old… and probably did so here, in this place. Eventually"—she paused, swallowed, and shook her head enough to ruffle her mane—"the flame went out. There was nothing left to believe in. No reason to keep going. So it ended." 

Lifting her head, Paradox came to a halt, had a look around, and continued, "They left behind quite a legacy though. Other caches have been found. Hidden rooms in libraries, courthouses, and apothecaries. But all of those places were empty too, just like this place. No books, no ledgers, no journals… nothing to tell a story. This place is a find of immense importance, but just like all the other places, it offers no answers. It's as if somepony came along after the fact and cleaned up… just erased everything of importance and relevance. I had high hopes that by finding this place, we'd have some answers."

Saddened by these words, Sundance sighed. 

"Not all is lost though," Paradox said. "Princess Twilight could come here and determine which spells were cast here. There are echoes… even I can sense them. Powerful magic was cast here. This place is inundated with magical residue. There might be something we can learn, but I doubt we'll have answers. Just more questions." 

Head bowed, Paradox picked up her hooves and led the way… 



 

Several changelings moved aside as Sundance made his way through the door and into the chapel. This was a room of stunning size, with high ceilings, fountains of running water, stone benches, and a roaring, flickering curtain of blazing flames that dominated the rear of the room. This room was hot, swelteringly so, and mere moments after entering Sundance began sweating. The ceiling overhead was just high enough to be lost to shadows, which danced and cavorted above the effulgent flames. 

Above the flames there was a bronze cartouche that read, Beyond the flames, understanding.

As Sundance stood staring, he saw them. There were birds in the flames that crackled in and out of existence. Phoenixes? He squinted into the flames, trying to have himself a better look, but the ephemeral avians refused to remain real for any meaningful length of time. Nothing fed the flames; there was nothing down below but dull grey granite. Yet, the flames persisted, as did the phantom phoenixes that flitted about, flirting with the flowering, flowing flames. 

Beyond the flames, understanding? Just what did that mean? Now standing near a stone bench, Sundance gave careful consideration to these words. Perhaps the treasures of this place were in a room beyond the flames. He doubted there was silver and gold to be found, or precious gemstones—but there could be books. There might be answers. To have them, all one had to do was brave the flames. Sweat trickled down Sundance's neck, pouring from his scalp. This room was oven-hot and those flames would surely turn him into a flash-fried pegasus if he got too close. 

So lost in thought was he that he failed to observe how Hornet stared up at him. 

Tearing his eyes away from the flames, Sundance examined the water. It came out of nowhere, with no visible holes to be seen. Somehow, it bubbled into existence and then poured down the sides of decorative pillar-like objects that stood in the middle of broad, shallow stone basins. Endless water, curiously drawn from some unknown wellspring. What wondrous power was magic, with its ability to sustain flames and maintain an eternal flow of water. 

"I've never seen magic like this," Paradox said as she moved between the two flowing fountains and then stood still. "Those flames aren't illusory. I don't know what they are, but I know what they aren't, and they aren't illusionary. It's not unicorn magic… whatever it is, it doesn't want to be studied. Weirdly… it rather feels like Princess Celestia's sun, but she scolded me whenever I tried to study her precious flaming orb so it's hard for me to make a comparison." 

 "There's birds in the flames." Fudge Turnover, who kept a safe, respectful distance from the roaring inferno curtain, raised her left front hoof to shield her eyes as she squinted. "If you watch, they pop in and out of existence. They're beautiful." 

"I don't know what they are," Paradox said. "They look like phoenixes, but I don't think they are. Might be some kind of magic spirit of some kind. These flames might be gated in from the Infernium, but I would need to run a lot of tests to know for sure." 

At some point, without realising it, Sundance had already made up his mind. 

All of his life had prepared him for this moment. Every moment of danger, every stupid, foolish act, each and every death-defying act of daredevilry. Slaloming the stacks. Picking a fight with an owlbear. Flying into Canterlot during a major storm when the smoke blew sideways. Crashing through the treetop canopy of the Froggy Bottom Bogg. Sundance was a lot of things; while he might be considered a noble pegasus—not noble because he was a baron, but noble in his virtues and deeds—mostly, he was just plain dumb, and this made him special. 

Beyond the flames was understanding. At least, that was the promise. Maybe not so much of a promise, not really, but it was what the sign said. Understanding was wisdom, and wisdom was a precious thing, a commodity sought out by kings, queens, and prancing pony princesses. He licked his lips whilst his nerves telegraphed a rapid-fire distress signal to the main office. The main office—his brain in this questionable metaphor—was closed for the day, which meant that the rest of his body was subject to Sundance's most primal whims. It was a fate that no body should be subject to, but the main office was closed so it was impossible to file a complaint. Whatever treasures there were to be had in this place were surely beyond the flames. 

And he would have them. 

Hooves clip-clopping against the stone floor, Sundance broke into a run. There were shouts of alarm, and one of the changelings moved to intercept him, but Sundance bowled over the poor bug. Wings tucked tight against his sides, Sundance figured that it was just a matter of moving fast through the flames, so fast that the flames had no time to burn him. He might get a little singed, or maybe even scorched a bit, or his tail might smoulder, but those fates were but a small price to pay for understanding. 

"No, you fool!" roared Megara, but it was too late; the manticoress could do nothing to stop him. 

Clippity-clopping, there was no stopping, and Sundance flung himself into the burning curtain. Right away, instantaneously, he immolated. The flames consumed him from hoof to ear. Whatever he experienced in this moment went beyond pain—he had no understanding of what he felt, other than every other painful moment in his life would be a pleasant thing compared to what he endured now. Flesh turned to ashen parchment, peeled off, and fell like autumn leaves. His feathers turned into wisps of superheated nothingness. Tendrils of flame snaked their way up his nostrils and into his brain, igniting his thoughts. The flames devoured him, consumed him, long tongues of fiery wrath lapped at his body, exploring every tender crevice. 

Thousands of flame-feathered birds surrounded his body and then he was gone. 



 

Flames. Everything was on fire, including Sundance. He was made of flame and lacked a corporeal body at the moment. Being a living thing made of flame wasn't what it was cracked up to be, and he rather wanted his body back. To be flesh and blood again, to have a heart, and organs, and to be able to pee in the mornings so that he might mark his territory. All these things were lost to him, and he would miss them. 

The burning birds circled as a swarm, and then formed a massive flaming face—an avian face. Inferno eyes stared unblinking at Sundance, and the fires of Tartarus burned along the blazing beak. Every feather was a conflagration burning beyond all comprehension. It was just a face; no body, nothing else, it was everything it needed to be and nothing else. This thing, whatever it was, regarded Sundance with austere calamity, and calm destruction burned within the fiery windows to its soul. 

"Are you ready to be tested?" asked the fiery fiend. 

"I guess," was Sundance's dull response. "I didn't study. Didn't know there'd be a pop-quiz." 

"You guess? You guess? You dull-witted, simpleminded creature!" 

"Yeah, I am." 

The bird face made of many birds seemed perplexed in a stereotypical avian way. Its head cocked to one side, it's flaming feathers ruffled, and its calamitous gaze seemed rather stupefied, all things considered. A squawk like a roaring apocalypse parted its beak, and some great invisible force almost crushed Sundance as he was pulled closer for inspection. 

"I would make you face your fears, but that would accomplish nothing. Begone, ye custard-brained, cretinous ignoramus! And do not come back! Away with you to the mortal realms, ye simpleton! Begone from the heart of the Sun!" 



 

Whole of body, Sundance found himself standing in a strange place. Some kind of alcove? Was this an alcove? While his brain struggled to recover sapience, he had himself a look around. He'd wanted something—treasure! Yes, he wanted treasure, and shiny things. No, not shiny things, something else. He blinked, and the dimwitted dullard expression on his face relaxed a little. Beyond the flames was treasure, but not shiny things. Important things, but not shiny things. 

He turned his head to look at his body, and he seemed to be fine—though his feelings were hurt. Some big bird-thing had called him a custard-brained something or other, and that was mean. Really mean, because he liked custard, but now the sweet creamy treat would forever remind him of the mean burning birdy creature out in the great beyond. A part of him thought about jumping into the flames again, so he could give that rude jerk a few choice words, but there were no flames to be seen. In fact, there was nothing in the alcove. 

"Mean, bossy, bad bird!" 

He extended a wing and checked beneath it, worried that he'd find flames. 

Nope, no flames to be found. No feathers missing. Smiling, he pushed his face into the downy depths of his wings and shivered with relief. All of him was here, and that was good. He was a pretty boy, yes he was. Sundance was a pretty birdy, with big feathery wings, a long fluffy tail, and a body that was not a pile of ashes. What was it that he'd wanted again? Why had he come here? He rubbed his wing against his cheek and celebrated the ticklish sensation that made his ears quiver. 

Intense worry pinched his face, his eyes narrowed, and a dreadful fear gripped him. He pulled his head away from his wing, folded his feathered extremity against his side, and then lowered his head down to peer between his front legs. The tiny room he stood in was dark, it was difficult to see, but he was able to check between his hind legs, and was quite relieved to find that everything was as it should be. He sighed, lifted his head up high, and gave himself a shimmy-shake that dislodged a few stray hairs. 

And then, quite suddenly and without warning, he was no longer alone. Another pegasus crashed into him, a female of his species. Delightful. She appeared practically right on top of him. His treasure had appeared at long last, and what a treasure she was. He pawed at her with his hoof, which was a strange thing for an equinoid creature to do, pawing with a hoof, and then it dawned upon him that something was wrong—his treasure seemed distressed. 

"Sundance!" 

"Hi!" he replied with uncharacteristic exuberance. 

"We all watched you burn," she said to him in an almost scolding tone. "You burnt to ashes and you screamed and hollered the whole time. It was awful. But then I sensed that you were still alive, so I came after you… and there was a horrible bird monster—" 

"He's a rude jerk," Sundance said to the distressed mare. 

"It was awful. He was awful. She? I don't know… whatever it was, it showed me a future where my kind never have acceptance. It was the most horrible thing. I couldn't protect them. It's my purpose… my reason for existing, and I couldn't protect them. Couldn't save them." 

Leaning in closer, he slipped a wing over her neck and said to her, "I'll protect you." 

"You have a grub-brain," she said to him matter-of-factly. "It's good to know that you're alright. The others think that you died. Well, not my fellow 'lings, they know that you're alive, but they are bawling and weeping and grieving your premature death along with the others. And my death as well." 

Something stirred within the placid depths of Sundance's mind. 

"Dirty, rotten, no good gigglebugs." He chortled, covered his mouth with his other wing, and suffered spectacular failure when he tried to withhold his laughter. 

"Where are we?" she asked. 

"I… dunno. In the treasure place." Still he chortled, amused beyond all ends. 

"How do we get back?" 

"You don't know?" he asked in return. 

"This is my first time here, of course I don't know," she snapped. Then, head low, she seemed to reconsider. "It's like shouting at a grub. Still bothered after seeing the future. I'm sorry, Sundance."

"For what?" 

"I have to get you to safety. Back to the others. I have to bring you back from the dead so I can be a hero. But I don't even know where we are." 

"We're together," he said, his congenial good-naturedness manifesting. 

"And you really, really love me right now. That's very sweet of you, Sundance." 

"Yeah, I'm sweet. I can be your fuzzy bumblebee." 

"Alright, sweetness, let's see what's in the next room. Maybe there's a way out. I don't know if I passed the test or not… I sure hope this isn't some prison. We could be here for a while until my fellow 'lings burrow to wherever we are to free us." 

"We can pass the time," he said with a reckless eyebrow waggle. 

"Follow me," she said to him as he practically hung off of her. "Let's see what secrets this place has." 



 

Sundance allowed himself to be led into the next room, and then halted in place when he saw the vast empty space. There was a massive statue of his Great Grandmother—terrifyingly large and her ruby eyes stared right into his very soul—and there were bookshelves. Empty bookshelves. There wasn't much else. There was a table, a door at the far end, a few stone chairs, a tall mirror that shivered his skin when he looked at it for too long, and a rather threadbare and dusty rug underhoof that had seen better days. 

"Grandma, what big eyes you have," he said, almost murmuring. 

Cowering behind his companion, Sundance shied away from Celestia's gemstone gaze. Surely she knew of his lewd thoughts and his hidden desire to explore all the carnal delights this pretty pegasus maid had to offer. It wasn't that he was afraid—but more that he was ashamed. A little intelligence trickled through his grey matter when he tried to figure out why he was ashamed, but no good reason presented itself. 

No good will ever come from taking advantage of others, a quiet voice said to him from the back of his mind. Be good, or I'll fly you face-first right into a tree.

Shuddering slightly, Sundance realised that the voice meant business. It was his voice, and it was stern. Was it his… what was it called? The little voice that scolded when one was bad, and spoke soft encouragement when one was good. Try as he might, he could not recall what the voice was called, but this voice—his voice—made the rules very clear. Rules had to be followed, unless the rules led to somepony getting hurt, and then the rules could not be followed, because doing right was more important than obeying the rules. 

It was all rather confusing to sort out during his current state of mind. 

"There's nothing here," his companion said. "Just empty shelves. Nothing. Not a thing. There was supposed to be understanding here… some reason to jump into the flames. That's why you did it, Sundance… but there is nothing. You… we… us… we burned alive for nothing. Where is the promised understanding?" 

He didn't know. 

"Everything is gone," she whined, and then her body began to hitch.

He pulled her close, saying, "Don't cry." 

"I'm not crying," she said as her body hitched even more, so much so that her illusion began to flicker. 

Seeing the green flashes of light that lept and danced around her small, sleek form, Sundance remembered that his companion was not a real pegasus. It didn't matter; he loved her anyway, and her current state of hurt caused him to ache. Mindful of what the voice in his head had said, he pulled her even closer, but his actions were not motivated by lust. She resisted, pushing against him, but then relented and allowed herself to be held. 

"There's nothing here!" she wailed, and then there were disgustingly gross snorgles somewhere down deep in her throat. "You big dummy, you jumped into the flames for nothing!" 

A tiny sliver of ache throbbed in the middle of Sundance's grey matter. 

"You idiot… I followed you and then I saw all kinds of horrible, terrible, nightmarish things. You did this to me!" 

"I don't know what made me do it." The struggle to assemble a sentence was strenuous, and he just about gave himself a sore skull. After a bit of thought, which agitated the sliver of ache in the middle of his brain, he thought about treasure. There was something that he wanted—but this room had nothing—and now his beloved companion was hurt. 

"I was trying to be tough so I could get us out of this mess but I failed and now I've fallen apart. I'm worthless. Worthless!" 

"I did bad with the ogre," he said, which wasn't much as far as comfort went, but it was the best that he could do, given the circumstances. 

"Keeping you safe means getting you to safety." She sniffled, snorgled, and then her illusion expired in a glittery flash of witchfire. "I followed you into danger… and that was the hardest part. But I'm failing at the most simple part, getting you back to where you belong. Everything hurts. You were so disappointed that there was nothing here. You hurt inside for Paradox and you wanted to find something… anything… just something to make this trip worthwhile and you had so many feelings and your kindness… everything happened and there's nothing here. Feels pointless." 

A slick droplet of green goo dribbled from her nostril and sizzled on the threadbare rug. 

"I'm leaking acid. You'd better leggo of me for your own safety. 'Snot safe." 

"No," he replied with a fervent shake of his head. Better sentence assembly was very much out of the question at the moment; he struggled and made every attempt to encourage his brain cells to get back to work. There was a hazy, nebulous understanding that he was stupid right now, whatever that meant, and reclaiming himself meant being smart, which didn't seem appealing at all, but necessary. 

"I know we didn't die," she began, "but we did come back from the flames. It's not the same, I guess, as coming back from the dead, but it still feels important." A drawn-out shuddering sigh separated her words. "A chosen changeling means being different. I wanted to be a chosen one. You know, like a hero in a saga. I would always get asked why I wanted to be different and choose to not fit in and not be part of one-mind. All of this makes sense in the moment I chased after you and dove into the flames. I was the only one. Everybuggy else stayed back. But now, after all is said and done, I don't know if it makes sense anymore and I don't know why I'm telling you this, because you have a grub-brain."

"Even grubs need stories of goodness," he managed to say with extraordinary effort. 

"I suppose they do," she replied. "Maybe not all of them. I liked stories as a grub. Others didn't. The ponies in the lab read us stories and insisted upon storytime. Said it was good for us and our development. I don't know what that means, but I want to believe it." 

He relaxed his hold a bit, thought better of it, and pulled the small, compact changeling to him so that he might reassure her. She smelled; he didn't mean to notice it, but notice it he did. It wasn't exactly a pleasant aroma, either. Oh, it wasn't as bad as her cheese stink, but there was something acrid about her, something vinegary and tart, a sort of stink that threatened to cause an outbreak of sneezes. It was not an equine smell, but something wholly different—just the sort of thing that a pony might not like. 

After a brief time spent in careful deliberation, he decided that he couldn't be bothered by something so meaningless. After all, he lived in ye olden town of Rotten Egglünd. If bad smells became a factor of what he did or did not like, he was in big trouble. He lived in the stinkiest, stankiest place in all of Equestria. If stink made enemies, then he was The Enemy. Baron Bad Egg. 

A green flare consumed Hornet and she became a pegasus once more. Sundance felt a strange pang, a sensation that he did not understand, but he was aware that it hurt him. He liked Hornet in her changeling form. But her preference seemed to be for that of a black and yellow pegasus. An unsettled sigh blew forth from the downward-turned corner of his mouth. If she was happy, then he was happy. Allowing others to be happy with themselves without interference seemed like such a simple thing, but Sundance recalled struggling with it, though he could not recollect the specifics. 

"Thank you," she said to him. 

"For what?" he asked, perplexed by the kind words she offered. 

"For being my friend," she replied. "I was warned not to expect friendship from others. That I had to be cautious and curb my expectations. I was told that the best that I could hope for was acceptance. We should go back to our friends, if we can. Let's see what's beyond the door. There's magic that way, I can sense it. Strong magic." 

"The mirror," he said whilst he pointed with his wing. 

"No… forget the mirror… it's bad." 

But Sundance could not ignore it. Even as his head turned, he felt his eyes drawn to it, pulled in by some mysterious gravity. Unsteady for a moment, he summoned what courage he had and took the first cautious step towards the mirror. Hornet pulled on him, but he would not be denied. Perhaps understanding would be found in the mirror, though the very sight of it caused his skin to crawl. Empty bookshelves and dusty scroll racks stood like sentinels against the walls. He heard a sniffle from Hornet, a gurgle, and then she was right against his side, a companion, a protector, a friend. She had followed him into the flames. 

Darkness swirled behind the silvered glass. 

"What if the mirror is our way out?" he asked. "Another test?" 

To which she responded in a wary tone, "I hope it isn't. You sound smarter." 

His head shook so hard that his ears flopped about. "Naw." 

"I'd laugh, but that mirror scares me." 

It was a scary mirror, that could not be denied. Sundance saw liquid darkness and smooth whorls of quicksilver flowing on the other side of the glass, but the two never mixed together. It reminded him of… a magma lamp? Reckless as always, he squeezed his brain for information until his eyes watered from the strain. Yes, magma lamp. Lava flowed outside a volcano, while magma bubbled on the inside. The mirror was some kind of spooky magma lamp that was wholly unnerving. 

"Magma," he muttered beneath his breath as he approached. 

At first, he thought the frame of the mirror was some sort of pale wood, but upon closer inspection it proved to be bone. Pale yellow, dark crevices, with off-white gleams. What sort of bones? Why bones? The reflective glass rippled like the surface of a disturbed pond, acting very much in a manner that glass should not. Even worse, there was no reflection. Just what was this mirror and how did it get here? All the books and everything else was gone, secreted away to some unknown oubliette no doubt—but the mirror remained. 

"We should smash it," she said to him, almost hissing. 

"That'd let the bad luck out," he replied. 

"If you keep that up, I'm gonna like you less." 

He sniffed, but had nothing to say. All of his attention was on the mirror. Every hair along his spine stood erect and the tension in his back pulled his dock tight into the upright position. There was not enough intelligence coursing through his grey matter to mute all of his pesky and sometimes annoying instincts, all of the troublesome urges that often left him unsettled, with his mind left disquieted. His mind was amazingly clear, like a summer sky on a perfect day, a cloudless expanse of endless blue. 

A figure formed in the mirror. At first, it was indistinct, like steaming vapour escaping a too-hot kettle, but it gained form and meaning with each passing second. Also like a tea kettle was Hornet's hissing; it came out of her now in an unbroken stream. The sound was disturbingly unequine, almost alien in nature. Sundance was almost a regal figure, with a noble silhouette. His head held high, his dock raised, every thin and wiry muscle bunching beneath his sunny hide, he was not at all the pegasus that had left the city all those months ago. And Hornet was his loyal guard, a creature far more fearsome than a mere hissing cockroach. 

He stood before the mirror fearlessly as the entity within took shape. 

What a shape it was, what terrible, dreadful form it took. It appeared to be an unnatural hybrid of a rabbit and a fox, but with a touch of something else, something unfamiliar but recalled from a book. A koala? Perhaps. Sundance's mind had little access to the archives in the basement at the moment, so it was difficult to determine what he saw. It floated beyond the glass, some malevolent spirit that parted the darkness and quicksilver clouds so that it might peer out. Seeing it filled him with loathing—and an intense feeling that was akin to hatred, but justified in some way, some righteous sensation of contempt. This creature was wrongness manifested, made real, and its existence offended in some way that words could never express. 

"Hey… yeah, hey you… yeah, you"—the mirror-spirit's voice was raspy, almost croaking, and his accent strange—"if you let me out, I'll grant you three wishes. That's right, three wishes. What a bargain!"

Hackles raised, Sundance considered this. Oh, he did not consider accepting the mentioned bargain, oh no. Rather, he thought about the deal for what it was, and what sort of creature he might be dealing with that could offer such a transaction. His clear mind was not distracted by such things as his desires, his needs, and all the things he might want. He was still too stupid to conceive of three worthy wishes. No, what he wanted was understanding, and he was just smart enough to know that such a thing could not be granted by some mere wish. One had to live to grow wise and to gain understanding—which meant that this room and all it once had to offer was meaningless. 

"Can I use my wishes to wish for more wishes?" asked Sundance. 

"Well, no"—the mirror-spirit raised one koala claw to scratch his head just below his foxy bunny ear—"that's not how it works. I'm not powerful enough to violate reality that much." 

"You don't seem powerful at all, being trapped in a mirror." 

The mirror-spirit visibly bristled. It was a small thing that radiated more malevolence than its foal-sized body could possibly hold. Sundance and the creature stared at each other, hating each other, and neither turned away from the other. Yet, the mirror-spirit wanted to be free, and Sundance wanted understanding, so they were stuck dealing with one another. Both seemed surprisingly cordial, given the circumstances. 

"If I were to free you, how would I do that?" asked Sundance. 

"That's a tricky question," the mirror-spirit replied. "You'd have to earn those wishes with hard work." 

"Well, who did this to you?" 

This caused the mirror-spirit some distress, as evidenced by its piercing yellow-red eyes, flexing claws, and the way its tongue lashed out over its vicious bunny teeth. More than a little amused, Sundance watched, and enjoyed the creature's impotent rage. It floated there, existing in a vast nothingness that loomed impossibly large beyond the glass. This was what boredom looked like; endless nonexistence, forever grey and forgotten about. Sundance knew it was a fate worse than death—and probably deserved. 

"Celestia and her bratty baby sister did this to me." The creature spat out the words with such force that his words lisped and whistled through his prominent buck teeth. "The crybaby brat lopped my head off with a bloody big axe, but I showed her. I just self-revived and reattached my head. Then Celestia tried to kill me, but I wouldn't stay dead, because you can't kill chaos." 

It took all of Sundance's willpower to restrain his need to chortle. 

"And then Celestia ripped my soul out of my body, and that hurt, let me tell you. No consideration at all for the feelings of others, that one. Then she destroyed my body… with predictable results. A new body formed and my soul just jumped back in. So being the sociopathic psychopath she is, she tore my soul out of my body again, but this time she turned my bones into the mirror and then imprisoned my soul back inside of my body, and now I'm stuck here, technically alive, whole of body, and absolutely powerless. Needless to say, I hate Celestia, and her bratty baby sister, too." 

"That sounds adorable… two best friend sisters out spending best friend sister-time hunting abominations." A thin smile appeared upon Sundance's face, which now shone like the sun. "So, these bones are yours? How do bones become a mirror?" 

"Bones are really just mineral deposits, which are really just rocks, and stone shaping magic is common to earth ponies." Scowling, the mirror-spirit shook his head, flexed his claws, and pressed its foxy nose against the glass. "There's something familiar about you… that radiance. Something downright unpleasant about you, fellow." It cleared its throat, a sound that rattled the glass, and then asked, "Does Discord rule, or did Celestia best the Lord of Chaos?" 

"Discord now serves Celestia and is loyal to her," Sundance replied. 

"⸘How‽" Shock caused the mirror-spirit's eyes to widen in impossible ways that defied nature. "How does she do that? How does she keep winning? This world was ours! Oh, that insufferable bitch… ugh!" It coughed—which fogged up the glass on the far side—and cast a baleful gaze upon Sundance. "She must have found the weapons she sought out. There's no way she could best Discord in a stand up fight. She must have found the Moochick's gems." 

"So, she stuffed you into a mirror… and you ended up here, in this place." Hornet, still pressed tight against Sundance's side, was more than ready for trouble. With each word said, she dribbled tiny droplets of acid down upon the floor. "How?" 

"I exist as a battery!" the mirror-spirit shouted. "One day, a long time ago, Celestia gave me to one of her servants… an insultingly good unicorn named Eternal. He had ideas that the magical energies specific to preservation and immortality could be harnessed. She gave me to him for study… can you believe that? He refused to bargain with me and with Celestia's help, he turned me into a magical battery, which keeps me absolutely powerless and drained. You gotta do something to right this wrong. Set me free!" 

"So… your magic powers this place?" Head nodding, Hornet seemed to make sense of things. "The fires stay lit, the water keeps flowing, the temperature stays nice and comfortable. This place, this temple is capable of sustaining life, and you remain drained and powerless, unable to break free and cause trouble." 

"It's a travesty, isn't it!" 

"Oh, it is," Sundance agreed with a solemn nod of his noble head. 

"So, how about setting me free and righting this wrong?" the mirror-spirit asked. 

"My greatest grandmother has a lot to answer for, doesn't she?" Sundance's smile became one of unbearable radiant smugness, the sort of righteous smuggitude that radiated heat and possibly light. 

"You!" the creature in the mirror croaked as its whole body convulsed with rage. "I knew there was something familiar about you. I sense it now… you're like her… an abomination! You're a violation of nature! You share her inherent, innate goodness… and that makes you unreasonable. Oh, how revolting! How disgusting! Your sense of goodness is false, you know. It's magic compulsion! You're robbed of your free will by this foul unwholesomeness. You have a disease! A sickness of the mind that robs you of self-determination!"  

Neither stupid nor smart, but somewhere in the middle, Sundance considered these words. The creature was most certainly lying—or perhaps not. If there was a magical goodness to him that stole away his free will, was it really a problem? An issue? Was it a bad thing? He thought about his life and everything that brought him to this very moment. Did he make these choices? Did it matter? Beyond that, was Princess Celestia also a slave to some predetermined fate? It might explain a lot of her behaviour. But, what was the point of goodness if one did not choose to be good? The choice was important and if said choice was made for you by some outside cosmic force, did it take away from the good that one accomplished? 

Eyes narrowed for danger, ears forward, an expression of unreasonable violence lurking just behind the features of his face, Sundance demanded that his brain offer up some answers. The creature in front of him was a draconequus, an aberration that warped reality and disrupted harmony. A creature of disharmonious evil. It too, stole away free will. It was a parasite that robbed choice and feasted upon will. For Princess Celestia to be inherently good, to have some sort of magic that radiated goodness, surely that was a defense mechanism of sorts. She would succeed where others might fail. This creature could not bargain with her, could not cajole her, it was utterly unable to influence her with honeyed words—and Sundance knew that he himself could not be swayed. 

Like Celestia, he was resolute.

This creature was lying, Sundance decided. Or, if not lying, not telling the whole truth. If the truth was being told—which was a dubious prospect—then it was told in the most destructive manner possible. Nothing said by the mirror-spirit could be trusted. Truth or a lie, the creature's words were meant to sow chaos, create doubt, and cause conflict. This thing was his problem, his responsibility, and the right thing had to be done. 

"So… can we deal?" it asked. "If you set me free, I might be able to set you free. Maybe I could unravel that magic knot in your brain that keeps you from being free. If you can overcome it to free me, that is. You let me go, I boop you on the nose, you get three wishes, we both get our happily ever after. Deal?" 

"Do you really think that you can do that?" asked Sundance. 

"Well, I did something to Celestia's bratty baby sister. Tried to get her to see my way of things." The creature reached up and scratched at its buck teeth with one yellowed koala claw. "Not sure what I did, exactly. But if I had a second chance to try it, I could probably figure out just what it is that I am doing. Just imagine it, buddy… you could be free. No conscience. No remorse. No nagging voice in your head compelling you to do good against your will. No more late nights, laying awake and thinking about all the things you did wrong. Doesn't that sound great?" 

"I sleep pretty soundly at night," said Sundance. 

"Ah, the sleep of the self-righteous." The mirror-spirit's expression turned deadpan. 

"I think we need to thoughtfully define our relationship." A certain radiance shone from Sundance's face, a gentle warmth that graced his every angle and contour. At long last, there was understanding—though not from some long-forgotten tome of ancient lore, or an oracle hidden in the bowels of a mountain. "You… you are my prisoner, and I… I am your warden."

"Oh, you insufferable Sun-Touched bastard!" 

While Sundance wanted to know what that meant, he would not be distracted. 

"You will stay down here. For as long as this mountain exists, you will remain buried beneath it. Equestria is ours, and will remain that way as long as Princess Celestia rules. You… you are mine to do with as I please. You will continue to serve out your sentence as a battery—" 

"Oh, you arrogant prick!" 

"Take comfort that you will not be forgotten again," Hornet said to the mirror-spirit, who now pounded against the glass with its koala-paws. "My offspring will guard this place and keep others from you. They will find purpose in keeping Equestria safe from the likes of you. We will earn our place as protectors of the Empire."

There was a pop, like a cork shot from a bottle, and then the mirror-spirit was gone. Liquid darkness swirled around quicksilver whorls and the mirror was, at long last, silent once more. Annoyed, but also relieved, Sundance was sad to see that the creature had scarpered off to wherever it was it could go in its prison beyond the glass. There was more to say—or maybe there wasn't. What more could be said? He looked down at Hornet, only to find that she stared up at him, her eyes brimming with worshipful adoration. 

"You don't seem so sad," he said to her. 

"And you don't seem so much like a grub-brain," she replied to him. 

This made him smile, a real smile, full of warmth and good cheer. 

"Acceptance isn't always given," she was quick to say. "I was shown a future where my kind had no acceptance. It was pretty awful, having to stare down my worst fears. I was so scared that nothing I did or could do would make a difference." She inhaled and her eyes shimmered like oily rainbows. "Maybe if we act as guardians of this place and keep Equestria safe from the evil entombed within, we could earn the trust we so crave. This is a meaningful task… one that is sure to build trust. For both of us, Sundance. I mean, you and I, we went into the flames, and we were tempted. We both walked away better creatures, having stood against temptation. Maybe someday my grubs and your sons and daughters, they might face the flames and do the same. I know it's not the purpose of this place, but a new purpose could be made from all this forgotten stuff." 

"Perhaps," he said, nodding. 

"You're glowing, Sundance. It's faint, but noticeable. There's light." 

For the first time, he noticed that Hornet glowed as well, and not witchfire green. She too had a faint warm glow, something perhaps not seen at first glance but noticed during a doubletake. They were different, she and he, changed in some way that was beyond his comprehension. The two of them shone like the sun, a warm sunny golden radiance. He examined his wing, admired every feather, and saw luminescence in every shaft. 

It occurred to him that he would never stand in darkness ever again. 

"We should check out that door. There's strong magic there. It might be the way out." 

Head heavy, he nodded. It was time to return, if a return could be made. He wanted to be free of the mountain, to stand in the sun once more, and to breathe fresh air. Lifting his head, he studied the mirror one last time, and no longer felt afraid. His skin did not shiver. No sense of cold deterred him or compelled him to turn away. The mirror was of no danger to him. Down in the depths—whilst he stared at the shaped bones that held the cursed glass—his mind worked to make sense of what he'd learned here. This creature, this spirit trapped in the mirror, was from a forgotten time, what some might call the pre-dawn hours before Equestria's rise to become a bright and shining light, the radiant dawn that restored light and hope to a world almost lost to darkness. 

"I'm already having second thoughts, Sundance." 

"About what?" 

"About exposing my grubs to this. I mean, it seemed like a great idea at the time… but what if they fail? What if failing the test means death? What if I had died? What sort of mom would I be if I send my own offspring to their doom?" 

"What if they survive?" 

"But what if they don't? Or worse, what if they give in to temptation? What if they bargain with the thing in the mirror? Perhaps testing is bad. A mistake." 

"We strive towards greatness," he said to her in a voice of reassuring calm. "The consequences for failure must match our aspirations. Princess Celestia is the greatest good because she has resisted the temptation of the greatest evil and—" 

"But not all of us are Princess Celestia," Hornet said with a shake of her head. "Some of us are bound to fail. And there is such danger in failure." 

In response, Sundance had this to say: "Such is the way of things." 

"But… failure—" 

"Makes our accomplishments great and our successes sweeter." 

"But maybe this is better left forgotten." 

"Perhaps, but nothing is forgotten forever. We found it, after all. And we walk away from it better creatures." 

"Look, all I am trying to say is that some caution might be wise." 

Sundance did not respond, but turned his attention to the wooden door. It was arched on top, straight along the sides, and had a phoenix carved into the wood. The brass hinges still gleamed, still shone, as if they had just been polished. As for the wood itself, it was something that he did not recognise, though he knew nothing about wood. But this wood was strange, however. It was dark and light, like a marbled pound cake, with beautiful depths. 

"Come, faithful friend. Let us see what awaits us beyond the door…"
> When what isn't said is the most important thing you have to say
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sudden, savage affection of manticores had no comparison. Still reeling from the unexpected-but-suspected teleportation—which felt an awful lot like being slurped through a straw—Sundance had no defense at the ready when Megara pounced. He simply appeared over the phoenix seal in the middle of the chapel and then she was upon him before he had a chance to recover his senses. Why, he barely had a chance to think about just how much he hated teleportation—every experience with it had been quite unpleasant up to this point—when he was assaulted by a hairy brute of a manticoress. 

Eyes bulging, threatening to pop from their straining sockets, Sundance almost suffered decapitation from the over-enthusiastic headlock-hug. The lack of air left brilliant spots in his vision, explosive bursts of light that burst helter-skelter before his eyes, and every breath was rationed into austere gasps. Friendly manticores were a hazard and their affection had to be treated as one might treat trauma. 

"I thought I was gonna hafta explain to Pebble how I lost you!" 

These earnest words filled Sundance with some powerful sense of emotion. They were honest, true to Megara's nature, and yet, somehow, even with their mercenary bent, they were sincere. Heartfelt. Even as he struggled for breath, he was comforted and left reassured by Megara's life-threatening affection. The mighty manticoress was just as true to herself as she was loyal, and deep within his oxygen-starved heart, he was overwhelmed with gratitude. 

"You're glowing." Paradox said this as she moved closer, one eye squinted while the other remained wide. She cast her critical, curious gaze upon Sundance, who was held firmly in place by the dangerously affectionate manticoress, who appeared to be attempting to juice him as if he were some kind of sunny-orange citrus fruit. "What a fascinating glow. The energy signature matches that of the flames over there." 

Her mouth firmed into a thin line as she examined Sundance. 

"You're emitting ultraviolet radiation," she said matter-of-factly. "Which shouldn't be possible. How are you emitting sunlight?" For the first time, she noticed Hornet, and spent a moment lost in observation. "Now, that's even more bizarre. Hornet is emitting sunlight as well, and she's part plant. She's literally emitting the energy she needs for her peculiar form of photosynthesis into magic that her kind needs to survive. What happened to the two of you? How and why are you different? How does a living cell radiate ultraviolet light, and more specifically, the thaumaturgically-charged radiation unique to Princess Celestia's sun… which I am expressly forbidden to study?" 

"You're not forbidden from studying me," Sundance somehow managed to say between repeated applications of crushing force. 

"That is a remarkably astute observation, Sundance. You're right. Never once did Princess Celestia tell me that studying you is forbidden. So what's with the golden glow, Sundance?" 

"I have no idea. I was hoping that you could tell me." 

A quick, sudden turn of Paradox's head allowed her to study the roaring, crackling curtain of flame, all while her mouth pressed even tighter together. For a moment, Sundance worried that Paradox might throw herself into the fire, and beyond that, he wondered if he should warn her. Should she be held back? What understanding might she glean from the experience? Should he let her go unhindered? 

"Sundance," she said as the flames reflected in her eyes, "it is as though you have flown into the sun and returned with fire. Which might very well be the case." 

"I don't see"—a sudden burst of constriction around his neck caused Sundance to pause and the other half of his sentence came out in a strained wheeze—"how such a thing is possible." 

"Stranger things have happened," was Paradox's cryptic response. "Megara, any observations?" 

"He's as warm and snuggly as blankets fresh out of the drier," the manticoress replied. 

"Indeed. We need to go home. I must run tests. There must be answers. I must have understanding." 

Beyond the flames was understanding—that much was true—and Sundance had returned with perhaps a small portion. Even by accident, he'd returned with something that Paradox greatly desired, perhaps her heart's fondest wish. But now, he'd have to allow himself to be poked, prodded, and studied. He would do that, time, situation, and circumstances permitting. It was quite possible that this would bring him and Paradox closer together, which was something he very much wanted. More than anything, he wanted Paradox to be comfortable and happy, because she deserved that. 

"You must tell me everything that's happened!" she demanded. 



 

The day had gone on long enough to purplefy. It wasn't quite night, nor was it day, but the twilight 'tween that could never seem to last. Cool breezes blew down from the mountains to the north and collided with warm, balmy gusts that rushed from the south. There was electricity in the conflicting currents and Sundance suspected that Princess Luna's sacred night might be torn asunder by irreverent feral storms. He hated them in a way that only a pegasus could, a cold loathing that prickled his heart and left him with sawtooth hackles. 

Upon landing, he found himself surrounded, which was now commonplace. It barely even bothered him anymore. The barony's most valuable treasure, the littles, the kidlets, the still-young future of the barony had come out along with Hollyhock to greet him—no, he realised almost right away. Not him. The press of bodies was for Hornet and their primary concern was for their bedtime story. And of course, there was a story to be told, because the wee ones demanded to know why Madam Bedbug and the Busy Baron had a golden glow. 

With all the commotion and the hubbub, Sundance's attention became focused upon just one thing; the two sisters. Cherry Turnover had come out to greet her sister upon Fudge Turnover's return—minus Argyle Ascot. Something seemed wrong, off somehow, and Sundance experienced a dreadful sense of concern. Just where was Argyle, if not with Cherry Turnover? Was his new friend sad? In need of cheering up? It was worrisome. Ears pricked, he listened to the sisters as they spoke. 

"Have a nice time, Fudgy?" 

"The time of my life, Cherry. Where's Argy?" 

"You don't seem any worse for wear. And you didn't come back glowing. That's good." 

The sisters shared a bit of mutual laughter before their exchange continued. 

"It was harmless fun, Cherry. I think you would have had a nice time." 

"No, not me. Adventure doesn't appeal, dear sister. I'm a homebody." 

"This was somepony's home, once." 

Again, more laughter. 

"Libby looks sleepy," Fudge Turnover said, commenting on the drowsy foal slung from around Cherry Turnover's neck. "She looks quite worn out." 

Raising her hoof, Cherry gestured at the barony's young, and nodded her head. "She had some playmates. Just like you, she had herself a good time." 

"So why aren't you with Argyle?" 

"Libby had a wonderful time. And I did, as well." 

"Tell me about Argyle, or else." 

"He became insufferable," Cherry replied. "Ceaseless blubbering. Too much drama for me to deal with. His constant crying made Libby miserable, and she had fits. So he sent me away." 

"He's having a rough go of things," Fudge remarked. 

"More than you know," her sister returned. "Your day of adventure was his complete and utter undoing. Right about now, he's probably deep into his cups, as is his wont." 

"What is up with him, anyhow?" asked Fudge, whose face was a worrisome mix of anger, irritation, and concern. 

"Fudge… he's convinced himself that you're bored. That's why you went on an adventure. He thoroughly convinced himself that you're bored with him. With us. With Libby. With our lives and our current circumstances. He's absolutely certain that you're leaving. Poor sot has even started packing your bags for you, though they're still mostly packed." 

"Oh." 

Something about the way that Fudge's eyes narrowed worried Sundance in the extreme. It was perhaps the most dangerous thing he'd ever witnessed, like a force of nature deciding that enough was enough and that civilisation had to go. It was a reckoning with long sooty eyelashes and slightly goopy mascara after a day of sweaty running about. Sundance, who experienced fear in a way that other ponies did not, felt something, a powerful urge to fly away and to never return, because this place was now the epicenter of some disaster unfolding in slow motion. His blood chilled, he shivered, and when he pressed his wings tight against his sides, he felt his pounding heart. 

"Cherry, I need you to watch Libby a while longer. And maybe find some place to stay tonight." 

"Uh oh…" Cherry's response was half-spoken, half-gasped. 

"Excuse me… but I have to go and sort my husband out." And then, without further ado, Fudge Turnover stormed off. With every stomp of her broad hooves, the ground seemed to tremble with alarm, and the sensation of impending calamity intensified with intense intensity. 

"Uh, should we intervene?" asked Sundance. 

"I think not," was Cherry's terse response. "He brought this on himself." 

"What's she going to do? Should I even ask?" Wings still pressed tight against his side, it was all Sundance could do to stop himself from taking flight—and fleeing as his instincts demanded. 

"She'll do what's necessary to remind Argyle that some bonds can't be broken. Serves him right." 

"Uh… um…" After failing to make a sentence, Sundance had nothing to say. 

"A word of advice, Sundance. If you ever marry an earth pony, do so knowing that you might one day face a reckoning of your own making, should you ever offend her. Earth ponies… they have a different way of doing things. I need a place to stay tonight." 

"I wish I had somepony that would love me like that," Turmeric said as he scooted closer to Sundance. "A love like that is one to be treasured. Look at her go. She's majestic." The small, slight unicorn shook his head, pressed himself against the pegasus beside him, and a somewhat lispy satisfied sigh slipped out. "I'm a bit girly though, and can only take so much of the rough stuff."

"Come stay with us," Hollyhock said to Cherry Turnover. "It's almost story time." 

"That sounds wonderful," Cherry replied. "Goodnight, both of you." 

"Goodnight, Cherry," Sundance managed to say, even as distracted as he was. 

"Goodnight, Ma'am," Turmeric said, as charming as ever. "It was lovely getting to know you earlier. Maybe tomorrow we can talk again." 

"I'd enjoy that. Goodnight, gentlefellows." 

The crowd departed and the littles bade both Sundance and Turmeric goodnight as well. Turning away from the sight of Fudge Turnover shrinking into the distance, he instead watched as the littles were herded away. Hornet was right in the middle of the mob and for whatever reason, Sundance winced as a pang of jealousy pierced his innards. Right away, he dismissed it, for no good would ever come of such a thing. What mattered was that they were happy, and that Hornet was happy. The thorn found no place to lodge, and thus, it could not fester. 

It didn't take long until he was alone with Turmeric, who kept sighing with every other drawn breath. 

"What's up with you?" asked Sundance. 

"I met somepony today, and I'm in love," Turmeric replied. 

Almost smiling, Sundance asked, "Does Corduroy know?" 

"I'll have to tell her soonish. It'll do her heart good, I think." 

Extending a wing, Sundance slipped it over Turmeric's back and pulled the smaller unicorn closer. 

"You're glowing, Sundance… and so am I. It's a hot and sweaty summer evening. And I am in love with a strong, silent type." 

Everything in Sundance's mind took a tumble as he attempted to put things together. The only conclusion that he could reach involved the distinct memory of Turmeric and Silent Thunder interacting earlier. Rather than jump to unsettling assumptions, he thought of Turmeric's relationship with Corduroy, with Rustic, and the mustardy-yellow unicorn's affectionate disposition. 

"My heart just swells sometimes, Sundance. Unbearably so." 

"It's Silent Thunder, isn't it?" 

"How'd you guess? You… must really know me, Sundance. And I don't sense you silently judging me, so thank you." 

The following silence was more than a little awkward, but thankfully, it did not last. 

"Can I tell you over a drink, Sundance? And maybe, just maybe, you can explain to me why you're glowing. I'd like to know." 

"A drink sounds good. We should have one." 



 

Fat droplets of reflective condensation rolled down the neck of the green glass bottle. A puckered pony was printed on the side of the bottle, along with a basket full of mixed berries and gratuitously green apples. Sappy Apple's Sour Seltzer tickled Sundance's nose and he listened intently to the fizzy-sizzle inside of the bottle. Turmeric sat on a pillow that Sundance did not recall owning and the little unicorn kept sighing—which, as it turned out, wasn't annoying, not even in the slightest. 

"Love is a splendid thing, Sundance," Turmeric began. "It hits you, just like a bolt out of the blue. When I meet somepony, and fall in love, I just want them to be happy. When I met Corduroy, there was this weird spark and I just allowed myself to experience it for what it was. Sometimes, we mess love up by attaching other things to it… other conditions and feelings and such. I don't know how to put it into words." 

Sundance nodded, an unspoken acknowledgment to show that he was listening. 

"Today, I felt that with Silent Thunder… he's an amazing little guy. But he's so unhappy. There is such a need to express himself, and he just… can't. But I showed him that he could. He can dance, Sundance. That colt… he's a natural mimic. In no time at all, he not only copied all my signature moves, but he improved upon them. He's like… he's like a gifted little actor… only silent movies have gone out of fashion. But he's so gifted, and so theatrical… and not long after I met him, I just knew… I knew I wanted him to be happy." 

After a long inhale, the lovestruck unicorn continued, "Just like I wanted Corduroy to be happy. Just like I wanted you to be happy. And I want that colt to be happy. I would give anything for his happiness and my heart just swells with love. I'm going to give him what he wants if it's the last thing I do." 

It took several seconds to sort out just what had been said—but it came as no real surprise. Now, it was Sundance who sighed, and as he did so, he watched as a bead of glistening condensation rolled down the side of his bottle. A part of him rather wanted to embrace Turmeric, a hug perhaps, but the lounging unicorn was too far away and the sudden urge felt altogether awkward. 

"I want you to be happy as well," Sundance said in the most sincere tone he could muster. What else was there to say? Coming right out and saying it felt wrong somehow. He watched as his friend tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, which in turn caused all the tension in Sundance's own body to depart. Why he wasn't even aware of his own tight muscles, but the sudden sensation of relief was almost overwhelming. 

Almost giddy, the unicorn replied, "It makes me happy to hear you say that." 

"You'd make a better baron than I would." 

"What makes you say that, Sundance?" 

"You love others and want them to be happy." 

"Flatterer. If you wanted to get me into bed, there are other ways." 

"No, really. What I'm getting from all of this is that you love for the sake of love itself." 

"Well, kind of. I still have my attractions. But, as I've recently learned, those are secondary. Those come after the emotional connection. I'm still sorting it out." 

"And you're attracted to me, right now." 

"Well, right now, you are a golden god. That's rather attractive." 

The glow. Somehow, the glow had completely slipped from Sundance's mind, but it returned now like the rising sun. He tore his gaze away from the sweating bottle of seltzer so that he could look down at himself. Yes, he was glowy. Even more so than earlier. It wasn't quite eye-searing, not yet, but it was enough to illuminate the surrounding area and cast shadows. He thought about the promise to Paradox that he'd allow her to examine him come morning. Maybe she'd have some answers eventually. Turmeric probably wanted some answers right now. 

Sundance didn't have them. 

Lifting the bottle, he allowed himself a long drink, which emptied it by half. Turmeric was eye-catching, though Sundance could not say how or why. A flurry of conflicting, confusing feelings threatened to overwhelm him, but somehow he endured the storm. When he emerged into the clear on the other side, he saw his friend in a whole new way. It was as if the clouds parted and he could clearly see what had been their all along. A second drink happened, but this one was brief, more to moisten his dry lips than to slake his parched throat, as was the case with the first swig. 

"Well, now that we've got that out of the way"—a folding paper fan poofed into existence over Turmeric's head and he began to fan himself in a most feminine manner—"let us acknowledge that we're both bottoms and so we'll never act on it. At least we can enjoy the sexual tension though." The unicorn smiled briefly, then his face turned solemn. "I finally told Rustic how I really feel. Sort of. More or less the same way I told you, actually. But he took longer to catch on. He was rather distracted at the time. Getting his hooves done." 

"That's a lot of love." 

"I like being in love," Turmeric replied, almost whispering. "More so now than ever. I really did find myself here, in this place. Surrounded by teenagers. Mistakes were made, Sundance. I thought being in love meant I had to act on it. That it had to be physical. The issue was, well, I had so much love. Led me to a lot of confusing moments. But now…" Head shaking from side to side, he did not finish, but sighed whilst he fanned himself. 

"For whatever it's worth, I think it's good that you love Silent Thunder. I don't see it as being any different than falling in love with a puppy." 

In response, Turmeric stared, all while his fan wagged above him. 

"Parents fall in love with their foals." A moment of silence interrupted Sundance and he wondered if perhaps he might be in love with Sparrowhawk. "I guess we cut ourselves off from what we feel to protect ourselves, or maybe because we think it is weird, wrong, or somehow unnatural. Now that I think about it… it's a bit like the time you and I slept together and all the awkwardness that happened. But I am glad that you were there for me." 

"I'm just glad that I matured a bit," Turmeric replied, his eyes unfocused and distant. "I kept losing my head and giving head. Why though? I guess I wanted to be loved. Any sort of love. But physical love was the easiest to sort out. The easiest to feel? Everything else felt complicated. But… I noticed with Corduroy, there were no expectations. We could just talk. It was like being uncorked, Sundance." 

"I haven't been uncorked yet." 

"And when you are, there will be Sundance champagne all over the place." 

This almost caused Sundance to drop his bottle of seltzer and he struggled to hold on to the slippery glass bottle held in his fetlock. When he laughed, that didn't help matters, not at all, and he was forced to grip the bottle with both his right and left fetlocks so he wouldn't make a mess on the floor. Slowly, a little at a time, he reined himself in—which was totally a thing that equinoid-based lifeforms did—but then lost all sense of control when he was overcome by a fresh bout of mirth. 

"I slay me." As smug as he was flirty, Turmeric fanned himself even harder. "So, you want to tell me about that golden glow?" 

Unsure of how to begin, Sundance didn't know what to say…
> Re-alignment
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grandmother Oak made for a cosy home and Paradox Sunflower truly made the space her own. Sitting on a squat wooden stool, Sundance allowed his eyes to wander, to go on a journey, so that they might take in every incredible detail hidden in plain sight. This was an organic space in the truest sense of the word, with few straight lines. Soft curves abounded, and somehow the many books settled into spaces all their own. Colour crayon drawings were stuck to the walls and a magic lesson remained upon a slate chalkboard. It was all perfectly organised clutter, a lived in look that did not seem the least bit messy. How this was accomplished was unknown to Sundance, but he suspected that some sort of strange magic he did not understand was involved. 

It was a wizard's house, through and through. 

A kettle boiled and bubbled while sitting on a skeletal copper rack. No flames danced beneath it, because it was heated with magic. At the moment, Paradox neglected the kettle because she was intently focused on Sundance, who sat on a stool, holding out hope for a pleasant cup of tea to start his morning. She was taking readings of him with strange tools, weird devices that beeped, booped, and blipped. 

"How is your vision, Sundance?" 

"My vision?" 

"Your living cells are emitting Sol-specific ultraviolet radiation and thaumaton particles." 

"My eyes are fine." 

"But… how though?" Paradox pulled away, her face thoughtful, and her ears pricked tall upon her head, the points jutting just above her bed-headed mane. "Your eyes should be overwhelmed with light. This doesn't make sense. The crystal ponies have a similar glow, and their eyes are also shielded. But crystal ponies have terrestrial thaumatons…" Her words trailed off and her sentence, however brilliant it might have been, went unfinished. 

None of this made sense to Sundance, who really just wanted a cup of tea. 

"Your eyelashes are glowing. Eyes closed or open, you really should be seeing that. It should be like somepony shining a bright light in your eyes. I mean, I almost get blinded by my own horn on a regular basis and at night I get woken up when I see bright light burning through my eyelids." 

"That happens to unicorns?" asked Sundance.

"It sure does," was her quick reply. 

"Your horn glows at night when you're sleeping?" 

"Nocturnal luminescence emissions. When dreaming, our horns sometimes ignite. It's a bit like how your eyelids flutter when you're dreaming. Our horns are an organ with a direct connection to our brain." 

"In school, I learned that pegasus ponies have an uninterrupted nerve channel that leads directly to our brains and it bypasses our spinal cords, though there is a secondary spinal connection. I've, uh, never much thought about it." 

"Fascinating." Eyes narrowed, Paradox turned her attention to Sundance's wings. 

"I suppose it is. Paradox…" 

"Yes?" 

"May I please get a cup of tea?" 

"Sure… in just a moment. Allow me to finish my examination of your wings. The calamus of your feathers appears to have liquid sunlight instead of blood. The rachis has a pronounced glow and generates a measurable amount of heat. How peculiar that—" 

"My what whats?" 

"Basic anatomy, Sundance… do you need instruction in basic anatomy?" 

"Maybe? We, uh, seemed to have skipped that in school. I could think better if I had a cup of tea—" 

"In a moment, Sundance. Be patient." 



 

The door clapped shut and a thirsty, tea-starved Sundance could not believe his rotten luck. He thought about saying something, even shouting perhaps, but he just didn't have it in him. After all, Paradox was trying to study, no doubt. She'd plucked an eyelash, taken a few hairs, shaved off a sliver of hoof, yanked out a feather—which made his wing throb incessantly—and then she shoved him out the door without so much as a thank you or a cup of tea. 

Left with no other option, Sundance harrumphed at the door. 

When that didn't make him feel better, he harrumphed again, and then once more for a third time. With his feathers ruffled, he cast his sullen gaze about, longing for a cup of tea and a spot of breakfast, because he'd had neither this morning. Paradox, the particle pony, had ambushed him the moment that he stepped outside the gatehouse. It was hard, difficult even, to be grumpy when one glowed like the sun, but somehow, Sundance managed to do just that. 

The need to harrumph for a fourth time was surely the influence of hooliganism. 

"Ready to get started?" 

Briefly, Sundance bit his lip. These were the last words he wanted to hear. Squashing down his growing sense of irritation, he turned to Megara and said, "I haven't had breakfast. Or my morning tea." 

"Do you think would-be barony invaders are going to let you have breakfast?" 

Sundance considered; no, the answer had to be no, but he had no desire to say it aloud. 

"Today, we're going to focus on throwing. Get ready." 

What came out of his mouth surprised him: "No. I think not." 

One eyebrow arched, Megara leaned in closer and clapped him on the withers. Hard. "Good, good. Showing a little backbone. That makes me happy. It's hard to tell me no. Come on, Sundance. Let's go have breakfast. And get some tea in you. I actually want you clear-headed for what comes next. Training on an empty stomach comes later. 

More than a little relieved, he nodded. "Breakfast it is, then. Lead the way." 



 

All of his attention was on Turmeric, who sat surrounded by a mob of littles, and Sundance chewed with violent vigour. There was breakfast to destroy, but there were also ponies to watch. Something had changed at some point when he wasn't paying attention, because Turmeric and Hollyhock seemed friendly with one another. Which of course, was quite a surprise. Things were happening, good things. 

Beside him, Megara elbowed him with her foreleg and said, "This is what you're fighting for. Remember, Sundance, soldiers fight because they are ordered to do so. Warriors fight because they have a cause." She gestured with a broad motion of her paw at everything around her. "All of this is worth fighting for, ain't it?" 

After swallowing, he responded to her saying, "It is." 

"Today, we're going to focus on throwing. Not dropping. We're gonna develop your aim, Sundance. You're gonna stand on two legs and chuck stuff. It's gonna be hard, Sundance, because it's gonna throw off your balance. And that, that will affect your aim. When and if we ever get all of this sorted out, we'll work on your thrown aim while flying. If you work hard, and don't quit, you'll have something to show for all your hard work. Gonna be hard though. I don't think you'll even make it to lunchtime before it feels like your foreleg is gonna fall off. But, you'll keep going though, because combat is about pushing through pain. Be prepared to ache. Your whole body is gonna tremble. It'll get real hard to keep your balance on two legs. When it starts to feel impossible, that's when your real training begins." 

"Who trained you?" he asked. 

"Well, aside from my parents," she responded, "lots of creatures, actually. Anybody that had a lesson to offer, I was there. Traveled a bit. I'm not done learning. If the chance comes along to hone my skills, I'm taking it."

"Aside from your parents, who trained you?" 

"Well, for about half a year, during the dead of winter, I trained up north with Blackbird." The manticoress' voice dropped low and her words became flinty. "There's horrors up there up north. Awful things that roam the frozen wastes during the coldest parts of the year. The Crystal Heart keeps them away from the Crystal Empire, for the most part… but the strongest terrors get too close for comfort. Little ponies get spooked." 

"So you learned by doing stuff. By going into danger." He thought of the ogre and the awful sequence of events that happened that day. 

"Blackbird is a hippogriff. She's as big as I am." Resting both of her broad paws upon the table, Megara smiled, revealing multiple rows of sharp, serrated teeth. "She's kind. Gentle. Nurturing. My father taught me how to fight. But Blackbird, she made me think about why I fight. That might have been my most important lesson. There is a very real danger of losing yourself to the violence. Having a reason, a cause… that can save you." 

"Seems like having a cause is what separates us from the dumb animals," Sundance said before he crammed a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. 

"That's a pretty good observation, I think. Civilisation is a pretty good cause."

"Civilisation has tea," he remarked around a mouthful of oatmeal. "That's pretty important." 



 

It was not even midday when Sundance sensed his impending collapse. Every muscle quivered, trembled with fatigue. There was nothing in his body that wasn't tense. His back was on fire; at least he was certain that had to be the case because of the white-hot heat that boiled his spinal fluid. Other parts of him were uncomfortably hot as well, such as his gaskins, his shoulders, and his withers. Ponies were never meant to stand on two legs, and doing so while throwing caused his body no end of suffering. 

Most of his throws missed and of those that hit the log, very few had enough force to stick, so they would bounce off. Perhaps an hour or so ago, he'd realised that hitting his mark wasn't the point, no. The point, if there was even a point to this torture, was that he keep throwing. His front legs were leaden, his wings threatened to fall off after all this effort to help him keep his balance in this unfamiliar posture, and he had stitches in his sides so terrible that he was certain that he'd barf up his breakfast any second now. 

And he'd felt like this for hours. 

Squinting, his eyes stinging from salty sweat, he attempted to focus on the multitude of logs in his vision. Oh, there was only one log, but at the moment he saw at least four or five. Maybe six, though seven was a possibility with the way the logs popped in and out of existence. A cramp threatened his grip; ponies did not have hands and fetlocks were not great manipulators. Quite honestly, he started to loathe his opposable fetlock. Evolution gave him this? What a load of rot. Why, evolution could go and have a good and proper fronk-off if this was the best it could come up with. 

With at least a dozen logs dancing in his vision, his resentment for Megara grew. 

"Looking a bit rough, Sundance," the grinning manticoress said with a playful wave of her broad paw. "If you think this is bad, just wait until we do this with you in your armor." 

The words robbed him of the proverbial wind beneath his wings. A catastrophic wobble overtook his legs, his foreleg spasmed and this caused him to drop his war dart. His wings tried to flap to assist his balance, but his muscles seized and he was overcome by stabbing side cramps that felt as though they might shatter his ribs. A wholly new pain manifested; something cruel and wicked ignited in his groin as the muscles on the insides of his legs shrank down two sizes too small. His balance failed him, he pitched over backwards, and took a tumble. 

Hornet was not allowed to save him. 

He lay gasping, unable to catch his breath. No matter how he sucked and wheezed, his lungs would not fill and the stars in his eyes mocked his futile efforts. The ground had never felt quite so hard as it did right now, and the blades of grass mercilessly stabbed him in all of his delicate, tender places. There was a gurgle in his belly, his stomach flopped and slapped against his other innards, but no matter how he heaved he could not throw up because there was no air in his lungs. 

"Honestly, I'm a little disappointed. He didn't even make it til noon. Seems as though I overestimated his stamina." 

"That's enough, Meg." 

"I'll decide when the peppery sting of humiliation is enough, Hornet." 

"Kicking him while he's down is—" 

"Hornet, an enemy would finish him off. He has to be hardened a bit. You know this to be true." 

"Maybe I do, but I don't have to like it." 

Legs flailing, Sundance writhed on the grass. At long last, air filled his lungs, and felt like slashing knives. Breathing was pain, but he needed air so badly. Tongue lolling, all six of his limbs flopping and thrashing, he sucked in some much-needed oxygen and then endured the drastic consequences. Fat beads of sweat oozed from his pores; not the sweat of extended exertion, but the perspiration of pain.  

Just as he'd caught his breath, his body was wracked by dry heaves. 

As he lay there, surely dying, Sundance thought of Reckless, the pegasus that stole the sun. This made him think of his grandmother, her stories before bed, and all of her wisdom. In his wrecked state, he was vulnerable, emotional, and the urge to weep overcame him. What little effort he could muster went into a vain attempt to hold back his tears, but the flood overwhelmed him. Without thought, his body curled into a fetal position, the grass smeared his sides green, and his sudden sobs sent stabs of electric agony through his raw nerves. 

"Meg, if you say one word right now, I will end you." 

"I wasn't going to say a word. Not now. This wasn't the outcome I wanted. I can't do anything with him if he's like this." 

"What do we do, Meg?" 

"Pick him up, Ladybug. I already had a plan in mind for his recovery."  





Sundance was dumped—gently—into a wooden tub filled with water that had a weird medicinal stink. Still weeping, he thought of his grandmother. She was gone. Gone. Never again would he hear her voice. There would be no more bedtime stories. If only he'd fallen in love and settled down sooner, his offspring might have known their great-grandmother, if only for a short time. A thousand thoughts stampeded through his head and the thunder of hooves resonated through his mental fog. 

"He wants… he wants his grandmother, I think. His thoughts are a mess." 

"Everypony wants somepony when they break." The manticoress sniffed, her whiskers quivered, and she sat down beside Sundance's tub. "You know, Ladybug, you could—" 

"No, that feels wrong." 

"I'm just saying—" 

"That's a betrayal of trust. No." Then, a moment later: "You're testing me. You can almost hide it, but your mind isn't as protected as you'd like to think." 

Sundance sank down into the water, his ears submerged, and then gravity eased its tyrannical grasp as buoyancy came to his rescue. The tub wasn't quite large enough and all of his limbs came to rest at odd angles. His discomfort didn't last long though, as Hornet was already at work trying to rearrange everything for a somewhat better fit. Tears squeezed free from the corners of his eyes, ran down the sides of his head, and vanished into the bathwater.  

"Hey, don't let that bathwater get in his eyes. Corduroy said it would sting." 

"Whoopsie-doodle!" 

Just before Sundance's head submerged too far into the water, Hornet saved him from further discomfort. The bath was neither warm nor cold, but comfortable. Liquid comfort seeped into his achy muscles, tired tendons, and he could not help but wonder what a tea bag might feel like sinking into a cup of tea. He rather liked the notion, and his pain-addled mind took comfort in the thought as his tail began to saturate. 

Drifting—more in a metaphorical sense rather than physical—Sundance thought of Celestia's Day, the Sun's Day as it was known, and trips to the department store cafeteria with his grandmother. Gleaming chrome, sparkling glass, and black and white checkerboard tile. Cosy booths. For him, the highlight was always the cheesecake. Cherry cheesecake, most of the time. It was a taste that he associated with happiness—with his grandmother—though he did not realise it until just now. The cheesecake, cheery cherry cheesecake, vivid red and creamy white, was a bright spot in his foalhood that made the crushing poverty all around him bearable. 

Though, as a foal, he had no concept of abstract poverty, or biological poverty, concepts he understood now as an adult, burdened with the responsibilities he had. The department store offered an affordable afternoon of luxury in the cafeteria. Well, affordable to most, though not all. All of the finer things in life in tiny, affordable portions. Just a few scarce bites of the high life, don't gobble it down in a hurry because when it is gone, it's gone. That's all there is and there ain't no more, as his grandmother might say. Or would say if she were still around. 

Why, he could almost hear her voice, and that hurt more than any of his physical pain. 

"What's happening to him, Meg? His mind has gone strange." 

"Everypony breaks in their own way. When Sumac hits his breaking point, he babbles about apples and living in a wagon. What's important is that we know what we're working with. It's not quite what I expected, but he pushed himself right up to the end. That's admirable. He never gave up." 

Brilliant colours danced on the insides of Sundance's eyelids and all sensation became distant. Sound became distorted, muffled, an effect made more so by his submersion in water. He drifted to a place where memories became more real and reality less so. His grandmother had taken him out for lunch after he'd landed his job as a medical courier. There was talk, adult talk, grownup talk. What one did for work wasn't important, no. All that mattered was that one had a job. That made you an adult. You did your part, you contributed, and Equestria was made better. That was all that mattered. If you were happy doing it, then you were blessed. But if you were unhappy with it, well then, you dealt with it and prioritised what was important in life. 

These seemed like such harsh, drastic concepts back then. 

At the start, courier work was a dream job. He was a pegasus paid to fly. But the dream turned into a harsh, unpleasant nightmare of reality. The job had to be done in all kinds of weather, in all manner of horrid conditions, from sweltering heat waves to bone-chilling blizzards. And all of this had to be done under a heavy load. It didn't take long before he was well and truly messed up. Sore. Tired. Discouraged. Exhausted. But his grandmother, she saw him through the troubled skies. She kept him going. During those moments when he was certain that quitting was the only option he had left, she kept him going. It wasn't long until he hardened, until he had endurance. 

She wasn't here to get him through his rough patch right now. 

That hurt; the pain was almost more than he could bear—yet what choice did he have? 

He had to navigate these new skies alone. 

No, not alone. 

He had friends. 

A relieved wheeze crept out from between the gaps in his teeth. 

"The Milord has guests." 

"What? No… he's in no condition for guests." The annoyance was thick in Megara's voice. 

"But they're here!" 

"Well, direct them elsewhere." 

"But the Milord is laying in a tub in the open, where all may see him. And his goodies are on display for all to—" 

"Well, quick! Go and distract them. Hornet, what do we do?" 

"You're asking me?" 

"Well, it is your sworn duty to protect him, so—" 

"And I'm supposed to what, exactly? Scare his visitors away, Megara?" 

There was the thud of hooves as somepony went running off. 

"The least you could do is cover up his goodies and—" 

"How, exactly?" 

"I dunno… try sitting on them, perhaps? That'd give us a good excuse to turn away guests. The Milord is busy getting busy in the tub." 

"It occurs to me that you must really want your face torn off, Meg." 

"With a face like mine, I wouldn't miss it." 

The giggling was strange and distorted in Sundance's submerged ears. 

Unable to move, Sundance felt trapped in his heavy, achy, waterlogged body. There were guests, but try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to care much about them. A steady flow of tears still poured from his eyes and his barrel hitched with every involuntary sob. His fetlock curled as a dreadful ache caused his muscles to pull tight. The nerves in his back burned with a fierce, fiery heat like the fine filament wires found in incandescent light bulbs. 

His father made light bulbs. 

Every day, his father, Dapper Dancer pulled a lever that made a little metal piece that made a light bulb work. Endless drudgery. The same motion day after day, for hours at a time without quitting. His father's strength and endurance was spent sitting on a stool and pulling a lever. Every eight seconds, the lever was pulled. It was six seconds, but there was a union dispute and the workers won an additional two precious seconds so that they might catch their breath. 

He thought of the day when he'd told this to Nuance and the colt had mentioned that such a job could and would be automated. Princess Celestia was panicked, Nuance had said. Looking back, Sundance saw that he'd stepped into the snare and that it had tightened around his leg, even then. But he was well and truly trapped now, a captive that sought no release. He'd traded one form of captivity—poverty—for another and now he lived his life in service to a cause that he could barely comprehend. 

If his father could spend an entire shift pulling a lever, doing his job, doing what was expected of him, then surely his son could do the same. A squirming sense of shame came oozing forth from his bowels and Sundance could feel icy tendrils worming their way though his burning guts. It was intensely unpleasant, this shame, and made somehow worse because he was helpless to make it go away. Even if he wanted to keep going, to do what was expected of him, he couldn't. He was done for. 

More tears trickled from the mysterious places beneath his eyelids. 

His first real attempt to communicate came out as a low groan. As for his second, it was a hoarse croak that threatened to tear his tissue paper thin parched throat right open. Unable to speak, he thought about a refreshing drink; he thought about it with all of his might and he willed his thoughts towards Hornet. All of his emotions went with it, and his intense desire to communicate his pressing needs. She was a creature who understood thought, who read feelings, and so he clumsily broadcasted his urgent desires to her. 

"OW! Ow! Hey… OW!" 

And then, inside his head, in a voice most certainly not his own: Ow! Stop that! If you don't stop that, I'm going to have a stroke. You're going to have a stroke! 

A scarlet bubble stained the fine hairs around Sundance's left nostril and a powerful drowsiness sucked at his consciousness like the drain in the bathtub. 

"Megara, go get Corduroy! Hurry!" 
> Rapid recharge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Somepony was washing his face. There was a sort of vague, detached awareness of this happening, an awareness shared with other sensations. Like the horrible monster hammering away at the back of his skull, on the inside where it could not be shooed away. Water deep down inside of his ear threatened to soak its way into his brain. When his ears twitched, he heard the faint sound of voices, which were barely audible over the susurrus roar of blood. 

Peeling open an eye was either an act of courage or stupidity, only time would tell. 

Light speared his retina, stung a bit, and caused his eye to squeeze shut. When the sting subsided, he tried again. Blurry blue sky and smooshed, smeared colours. He was outside; at least his senses suggested that he was outside. Somepony lifted his head; they were gentle, careful, and had claws. No, not somepony. He came to this realisation with slow certainty. Somedoggy, most likely. Corduroy was a gentle creature—but she could also hold his head in one paw. 

"He's fine." 

"Yeah, he's coming around." 

"Whew… I thought he had a stroke. I thought I had a stroke!" 

"It's not a stroke." There was more than a little annoyance in these words. 

"Well, it's what I thought—" 

"Well, you thought wrong." A pause. And then, in a far kinder tone: "I told you… he got too hot. When a pony gets hot, all the blood vessels in their head expand so they can cool off. In the ears and nose especially. More specifically, he was overheated because of what Megara did to him. And when the incident happened"—another pause, interrupted by a soft snort—"the increased pressure caused a bit of a nosebleed. I assure you, he's fine." 

"Still scared me." 

"Sundance, what do you remember?" 

Squinting, he peered out from between his now parted eyelids so that he might have a better look at the indistinct, fuzzy blur that was Corduroy. What did he remember? That was a tricky question, because he didn't remember much of anything. After a moment, he recollected that he dreamt of his grandmother. No, not a dream. Something else. Something almost real. He remembered that he was thirsty and—

"Yeah, now you remember what you did!" Almost shrill with panic, Hornet's voice assaulted his ears and caused the hammering in the back of his skull to thud double-time. "Do you remember every owl for miles around suddenly all hooting all at once?" 

"We had ourselves a hootenanny—" 

"Oh, boo! Boo, Megara, that's—" 

"Well, we did, Corduroy." 

"Every 'ling from here to the new hivehome got a splitting headache, myself included. My ocular lenses just about detached themselves from the pressure. And then, because of the connection between our minds, I suddenly had a clear insight into what the owls were thinking, and it was almost as if I'd become an owl. I was all grumpy and upset about the obnoxious daylight, and worried, and a bit scared, all because the funny looking owl had a headache and wanted a drink. It made me want to hoot and fluff my feathers, but I couldn't, because I wasn't an owl, but then I became an owl involuntarily and then all of a sudden I had new owl perspectives and everything from an owl point of view made a lot more sense and—" 

Corduroy made a gentle interruption, saying, "Hornet, don't be a ding-a-'ling."

"I rather liked being an owl," Hornet said, finishing her words. "There's a sort of righteous grumpiness that's very satisfying. You should try it some time, Corduroy." 

"I can't." 

"That's a shame." This was followed by: "Sundance, are you alright, Your Owlishness?"

"Oh… perfect. Just perfect. Something tells me that's going to stick." Corduroy's exasperated words were punctuated by a long-suffering sigh. 

"Sundance?" Paradox's voice was stretched thin from worry and came from behind him. "Sundance, can you hear me?" 

He grunted; was it enough? 

"You've had a radical re-alignment, Sundance. I think this is how this happened. You're no longer drawing from terrestrial energy sources. The change… the reconstitution of your body… whatever it was that happened to both you and Hornet. You're drawing power from the sun now. You were out in the sun all morning… it's not like drawing magic from terrestrial sources, Sundance. There's only so much of that to go around and that's the common source for ponies and so many other species. Very few creatures draw from the sun. Mostly phoenixes and Princess Celestia. So there's a lot of it. Psychic energy and magic are two very different things, but they depend on one another. Kind of like how unicorn telekinesis is psychic energy but magic gives photons mass. It's complicated. But you've had a re-alignment. I wish I knew how to explain things better, but I still don't fully know what is going on." 

Again, Sundance grunted.

"I probably should have paid more attention to you this morning, Sundance. I'm so sorry. I promise, I'll sort all of this out… for your sake. And not because I'm so eager to understand these secrets." 

What he wanted to say was that everything was fine, but what came out was a dry croak. 

"You two got him into this mess," Corduroy said. "So you two are going to care for him. Get him hydrated. See that he gets a good rubdown. I want to see Fluttershy before she goes, and have a chit-chat with her about Sparrowhawk. Maybe Fluttershy has some advice for dealing with mustang foals." 

"Three of us." Almost a nasal whine, Paradox's voice sounded downright pained. "I'll fix the tea I failed to serve this morning. I've got a lot to do, but I can make the time to do what's needed." 

"Maybe ice it," Corduroy suggested. "Anyhow, I'm going to leave him in your care." 

"We've got this," Megara said. "Go have a chat with Fluttershy. We'll get Sundance sorted out." 



 

Sundance wasn't set down upon the soft grass quite so much as he was poured. After Megara's 'rubdown', during which he discovered what bread dough felt like when pounded and kneaded, he wasn't entirely solid. Things had popped during said 'rubdown', things that, up to this point, he had been wholly unaware that they'd even existed. At one point, she had picked him up, gotten a good grip on him—touching him in places that he dared not mention—and then she turned him into an equine accordion. Squeezing him in such a fashion had caused air to come whooshing out—of both ends, no less. 

Then, she'd grabbed him as if he were a towel, twisted him a bit, squeezed one end, wrapped her paw around him, and then slid it down his body as if she were trying to get him to shed his precious bodily fluids—which he very nearly did. Though he had no proof, Sundance was absolutely certain that his body had to be at least, at the very minimum, six inches longer. When he was certain that he could take no more of her tender ministrations, she began to fling him up and around over her head as though he were pizza dough. 

The shade was delightful, but still a bit warm. A cooling mist wafted over from the waterfall, which had grown quite thin. What was once a roaring flood was now a steady trickle of blue-green water that held the redolent reek of really bad eggs. Why, this would almost be pleasant if he wasn't in so much pain. He thought of his father and felt ashamed. Just how did his father manage to do what he did for a whole shift and then walk home? Earth pony endurance? 

"Iced tea it is," Paradox said as she drew nearer, bearing a sweating glass pitcher above her head. "With honey and lemon. It's pepperminty!" 





"—so then, my hatch-mate, who'd spent almost a month trying to perfect the griffon form, tried to surprise me by showing up for tea as a pony. Then she had this attitude and acted like I'd never seen herbivore." Grinning an unnaturally wide grin, Hornet elbowed Megara in the ribs while also waggling her ears. 

Wincing, Megara responded by saying, "Oh… oh, that's awful… just awful, Ladybug." 

"Is this what friendship is?" asked Paradox with curious suddenness. "Everypony is acting as though everything is fine." 

"But everything is fine," Megara replied. 

"It's not. Not really." Pausing, Paradox let out a huff. "It feels like I had another Twilight Sparkle moment." She paused, huffed again, and shook her head. "It's so easy to get caught up in my studies. I was awful to Sundance, and then this happened. This is not fine." 

"Actually…" Megara's head swivelled around and she turned her carnivorous grin on Sundance. "I'm surprised by how fast you're recovering. While I was somewhat disappointed that you fell apart so quickly… I had high hopes because you're obviously an endurance flier. So I thought you'd at least make it until noon. But your recovery gives me hope. Combat, Sundance, is all about who can swing the longest. As for you, Paradox"—again she turned her head, this time to look at the dejected, huffy-puffy unicorn—"mistakes will be made. Twilight made them. You will too. Learn from them." 

Before Paradox could further berate herself, Sundance uttered a few scratchy words and said, "Flying defined me. It wasn't my talent, but I was good at it. But I didn't start out that way. Doing delivery work… as well as the whole medical courier thing… I had no choice but to become the best flier I could be if I wanted to survive my job. It… it, uh, well, delivery work kills ponies. That's why they're always looking for new hires. A pegasus gets tired, fails to take the wind into account, and goes to make a landing without paying attention to the wind. You come around the corner, catch a tail wind funneled through the urban canyons, and it pushes you right into a skyscraper window. Splat. Then the window washers have to scrub you off because you're bug-guts on the glass." 

"Oh, that's horrible," Paradox said. 

"It sure is," Hornet said, her head bobbing in agreement. "Bug-guts on glass. I don't like that, no." 

"So endless hours of flying under heavy load." Reaching up, Megara rubbed her fuzzy chin with her paw. "That takes a lot out of a pony. So we need to get the rest of you as conditioned as your wings, which are probably Wonderbolt-grade perfection." 

"That's flattering—" 

"It's not flattery." Hard and flinty, Megara's voice had no trace of warmth or friendship. "It's an honest assessment of what I'm working with. If I flatter you, if I'm not one-hundred percent honest with you, I could get you killed. The rest of you"—she squinted at him—"is about as enduring as an overcooked noodle wrapped in wet tissue paper." 

"That's less flattering," he said in response. 

"How's that throwing leg of yours?" she asked. 

To which he replied, "Feels like it's going to fall off." 

In the distance, sunflowers swayed, as if listening to some Celestial hymn that only they could hear. It was almost hypnotic how they all moved as one, all while keeping their faces turned towards the sun. Sundance realised that like he himself, these flowers were connected to the sun—in a peculiar way that the other plants were not. How curious—how intriguing. Not wanting to spoil the moment, he said nothing about his new awareness, and wondered if Paradox might notice. 

I noticed too. 

In mute silence, he turned to look at Hornet. 

Paradox's home, the old oak trunk, it too has similar magic. 

There was now a new mystery. Why were these things different? Who had changed them? When? For what purpose? Was this why Grandmother Oak was still very much alive? She had given up the ghost; there could be no doubt about that, but then had some sort of curious rebirth. Now she had new sprouts, new branches, new leaves. The old withered wood had new life. The barony, he concluded, was a strange place, one full of mystery and curious discoveries waiting to be found. 

He thought about what Paradox had said about re-alignment. When she'd mentioned it, he was a bit out of it. Later, when the time was right, he would need to ask her about it. But not now. There was no good pressing reason to ruin this moment, this perfect moment with his friends. Feeling more than a little cerebral for whatever reason, he tried to think back on his life and to find moments that compared to this one. While he could recall plenty of happy moments with his family, those magical moments when shifts and days off allowed a little time together, he could not recollect times like right now. His existence had been a lonely one. Reduced to bare survival, he tried to make his way through life with as little fuss as possible. 

All things considered, he rather liked his newfound awareness. The change did not surprise him as much as it perhaps should have. His connection to the land and the crystal tree caused many little changes, so this just felt like the natural outcome. Ponies were magical creatures and adapted to their environment. This held true for magical environments, though Sundance knew that his understanding of this happened to be woefully inadequate. It was just an extension of his ability to communicate with the owls made stronger. No need for panic, worry, fear, or doubt, all those typical pony reactions to the unknown. 

"Intense exercise can lead to altered states," Megara said, matter-of-factly. 

"What makes you bring that up?" asked Paradox. 

"Sundance looks a bit stoned," the manticoress replied, and then she chuckled. 

"Does he?" Leaning a bit closer, Paradox studied him for a short time, pursed her lips into a thoughtful scowl, and then pulled away. "Funny… he doesn't look like he's been zapped by a cockatrice. He seems more fatigued than petrified." 

Covering her muzzle with her paw, Megara groaned, snorted, groaned a second time, made a chortled sort of purr, and then came the smothered chuckle. Whatever the joke was, Paradox didn't get it, but she didn't seem distressed by it either. Distracted, Hornet watched the swaying sunflowers, just as Sundance had done moments before. As for Sundance himself, all of his attention focused when he saw a familiar yellow pegasus pony approaching. 

A few kind words from Fluttershy would be a soothing balm. 



 

Everywhere that the Element of Kindness went, serenity followed. Why, she barely even disturbed the grass with her passing, for such was her gentle disposition. Her expression was one of kind determination and considerate caution. For Sundance, to see her was to want to be like her, to emulate her in every way imaginable. Something about his current state brought out an almost worshipful reverence that flowed like springwater from the depths of his very soul. She was so light, so airy, so unburdened by the oppressive weight of callous existence. 

One might have to walk upon the grass, but that did not mean that one had to do harm during one's passage. It seemed as though every movement, every step was made with deliberate consideration for how that single action affected others. Watching her, it almost seemed as though gravity relaxed its tyrannical hold upon her, because it too could not bear to cause her to bring harm to another. As she drew near, Sundance felt his aches and cramps subside in the most peculiar manner, and he warmed in some curious way that had nothing to do with the sun. 

"Hello, Sundance." 

"Hello again, Fluttershy." 

"Megara, good to see you again. Are you behaving?" 

"No."

A soft laugh; it was a mirthful sound considerate of the needs of others. Then came a sort of sadness. "I can't stay long. When I found out that Bourgogne Blintz and Parsnip Parfait were dispatched here, I came with them so that I might keep my promise to sweet little Tarantula." She inhaled, a faint sound that disturbed nothing. "He seems happy. I'm glad." 

"Did Corduroy get a chance to speak to you?" asked Sundance. 

"She did," the Element of Kindness replied. "Corduroy is already doing all of the right things, I think. Sparrowhawk is troubled, but Kindness will prevail. It cured Discord, so surely Sparrowhawk will come around with a little love and gentleness." 

A wave of intense guilt washed over Sundance, because he'd bitten the troubled tot. 

"You seem to be glowing, Sundance." Another sigh, this one softer and quieter than the previous. "A little advice, if I may?" 

"I would gladly listen to any advice that you have to offer." 

"You have a rare and precious circumstance here, Sundance." Wings fluttering against her sides, she paused and waited while a mischievous breeze tugged upon her mane and tail. "You live surrounded by nature. A vast unspoiled wilderness. While I know it can't last forever"—her own words troubled her and her expression darkened like a cloud passing before the sun for a brief second before returning to its glorious radiance—"it is still a cause for joy. You have a herd of youth growing up, surrounded by nature's majesty. They have an appreciation for it. You may have little budding naturalists just waiting to bloom." 

Her lips quivered, her nostrils widened, she inhaled, and then she pressed her front right hoof to the scruffle just below her slender neck. "Did I just pun? I'm so sorry. I hope nopony was offended." 

Staring with ferociously funny intensity at Hornet, Megara replied, "I'm sure we'll be fine." 

"A changeling." Fluttershy did not seem the least bit surprised. "Changelings like puns because of the emotions they cause in others. A changeling I know learned that humour and making others laugh was a good way to inspire the emotions they needed to survive." A thoughtful demeanour overtook the gentle pegasus and a faint smile graced her face. 

"I had something to do with you being here," she said. "One group was sent here, to the wilderness. Those of you hybridised with plants. I hope this land is good for you. Another group was sent to the Crystal Empire. The crystal changelings are in their infancy, but the results seem promising. Already they show signs of being infused with beneficial healing energies. Empress Cadance is pleased with the progress made." 

"We take on characteristics of our environment," Hornet said to Fluttershy. "I'm Hornet, by the way." 

"Pleased to meet you, Hornet. I'm Fluttershy." 

"I did not know about the crystal changelings." 

"Twilight says we cannot put all of our eggs into one basket, and she is right." Cautious as ever, Fluttershy moved closer to Hornet so that she might examine her. "You have the same glow as Sundance. How curious." 

"We had a bit of an adventure together," the not-pegasus said to the actual-pegasus. "I'm his bodyguard." 

"Oh… oh my. Integration. This is good. This will inspire trust. Adventures are good for trust-building." 

"I hope so." Almost squirming, Hornet gave herself away because her reactions were not at all equine, at least to those who were competent observers. 

"I'm so sorry, but I really must be going. I have other places that I must be." She extended one wing, waved, and gave a parting gift of a fine, gentle smile. "Be good to others. Be kind. Farewell, all of you. Thank you, Sundance, for doing right with Tarantula." 

"I barely have anything to do with it," he replied. "That's Hollyhock's hard work. Goodbye, Fluttershy. Do come by again." 

"Oh, I will. If I can. I have to go and pick up a special little foal that needs my special care. Be well, all of you. Goodbye." 

After a somewhat clumsy takeoff, Fluttershy took to the air, and then departed. 
> An inconvenient biology
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of the two mares, one was an acquaintance while the other was a stranger. But what a stranger she was, a perfect, beautiful stranger. Still in a punch-drunk state, Sundance could not help himself and unabashedly gawped at her in just the sort of way that his mother would not approve of. While Bourgogne Blintz was attractive—being of a stout, stocky earth pony build—Parsnip Parfait was pony perfection. A unicorn with the body of an earth pony, Parsnip had the sort of body that came with a lifetime of hard work and exercise. Her legs had to be at least as thick as his neck, and a discombobulated part of his mind fantasised that she could crack coconuts betwixt her taut fuzzy thighs. 

Even better, she wore glasses, horn rims with thick soda bottle lenses. 

"You seem distracted," Bourgogne Blintz said to him. 

"Oh, I am," he replied with his eyes still locked on the cause of his distraction. 

Beside him, Hornet seemed somewhat amused, but she came to his defense. "His Owlishness had a rough morning. Training. Hero training. Megara exercised him right into the ground and almost into his grave." 

"Oh… that'll add some spice to his curated public image. He comes across as a bit of a bore." Eyes narrowed, Bourgogne turned her head to examine whatever it was that Sundance stared at. After a moment of silent concentration, she smiled as her head swung back around so that she might look at him once more. "I see that you've taken notice of my assistant." 

"Oh, I have," he replied. 

"Miss Parfait, why don't you tell Sundance more about yourself?" 

The young bespectacled mare turned about, was distracted by the hooting of an owl up in the belltower, and she smiled whilst she cleared her throat. One hoof was raised—her left front one—and she rested it upon the heavy trunk on the ground before her. It was a perfect pose, a bit too perfect of a pose, and it unleashed a series of feverish fantasies in Sundance's grey matter theatre. 

"Uh, what's relevant?" she asked. "I'm just a camera pony." 

"Tell Sundance about your camera work. Just what is it that you do, Miss Parfait." 

"Well, I'm a food photographer," the zaftig unicorn replied. "I do stills and motion pictures. Also do side jobs, which is why I'm here. When the bills come due, I also shoot food porn." 

"Food porn?" asked Hornet. "Like… erotic pictures of food?" 

"Ponies are food," Parsnip replied. "Stuff an apple in one end, a carrot up the other, and then pose them on a platter. For artful shots, you focus on the apple. But for good ol' fashioned get-yer-rocks-off porn, you focus on the carrot. Those are the stills that pay the bills." 

Sundance suddenly found it exceedingly difficult to draw breath. 

"Excellent, Miss Parfait. I think you've earned yourself a devoted fan. You might have to share your portfolio that I know that you keep in the bottom of your trunk." Grinning with her eyes, but not with her mouth, Bourgogne Blintz struggled to contain her obvious amusement. "Miss Parfait will be filming the documentary that Twilight has planned and—" 

"Documentary?" asked Sundance before Bourgogne could finish. "What documentary?" 

"Why, what might just be the most important documentary of our era," she replied. "Twilight wishes to document the friendship that will change the very future of Equestria. The friendship built on trust and mutual respect with Argyle Ascot and Sundance of the Sunfire Barony. Two great ponies from vastly different walks of life… one born into privilege and prosperity, the other into poverty and privation. But they put aside their differences for the sake of duty and to—" 

"I wasn't told about this," he said whilst he shook his head from side to side. 

"Well, you're being told about it now," Bourgogne said to him in a flat deadpan. "It'll be in every theatre from coast to coast. We're going for a low cost artsy documentary approach. Miss Parfait is going to follow you around with her camera rig. She'll be around when you and Mister Ascot have meetings and discuss Equestria's future." 

"That sounds—" 

"Wonderful, I know. Parsnip and I will need a place to live. We're going to be here for a while. Not just to finish the documentary, but also so things can cool down." 

"Cool down?" asked Sundance. 

"I have a less than perfect past. A controversial, troubled past. I recently said something that got twisted by the opposition pretty badly, and misconstrued, but it seemed believable because of my past." 

"Oh, that sounds harsh." 

"You have no idea, Sundance. But it pushed me to a tipping point. To clear my name and to protect Twilight from more trouble, because she constantly has to defend me, I publicly renounced a certain earth pony supremacy movement and gave a speech about my loyalty to Twilight's unification efforts. It got thunderous applause." 

"So, that made things better?" he asked. 

"Oh no," she replied with an emphatic nod of her head. "Made everything so much worse. I almost got assassinated. Twice. Things got hot. Too hot. I became a detriment to Twilight's efforts and now I'm here. Until things cool off. So… about that place to stay that might become a permanent residence…" 

"Pick an empty house or ask somepony to move in with them if you want company." A little worried, Sundance wondered what might have to be done if somepony came out this way with a mind for trouble. 

"I'm pretty sure that if somepony comes out this way to do you harm that Megara will unscrew their head." This was said with the sort of casual cheerfulness that only Hornet possessed. 

"Unscrew… their… head?" 

"She unscrewed an ogre's head." Blinking, Hornet smirked while her feathered wings fluttered against her sides. "I find it odd that you haven't said anything about our glow." 

"I've lived in Twilight's castle for a time," Bourgogne said to Hornet. "There are things far stranger than glowing ponies. Unscrewing the heads off of ogres… just what goes on out here? What is it that you wilderness-dwellers do for hobbies?" 

"I'd like to get that on film," Parsnip Parfait remarked. 

Shrugging, Hornet shook her head. "There's scary things out in the wilderness. Megara and River Raider are scarier." 

"Huh." A somewhat worried expression marred Bourgogne's face. "Miss Parfait, do you know any offensive spells?" 

"Not a one," the distracting and desirable unicorn replied. 

"You're safe," Sundance said. "Just don't go wandering off." 

"Yeah, it's probably for the best if I stick around so you can keep an eye on me," Parsnip replied. 

Though he had no response, Sundance could not help but to agree. 



 

Argyle Ascot looked exactly how Sundance felt. There was a sort of befuddled determination to be seen upon the earth pony's face, the sort of expression found on those who hadn't slept for quite some time. He was also quite disheveled, unkempt, and in need of a good grooming. These were just the easily observable things, surface things, things that ultimately didn't matter. A little mane pommade, a bit of grooming, a little care and anything that was wrong with Argyle could be hidden. 

What concerned Sundance was how Argyle looked at Bourgogne Blintz—and how she completely ignored him in return. Was there a history here? There were clearly feelings, strong emotions. Perhaps it had something to do with her past. Argyle Ascot cast his judgmental stare and Bourgogne Blintz acted as though nothing was wrong. Or maybe he just didn't take the news that there would be a documentary very well. It was just one more thing along with everything else. 

"Sundance…" 

"Yes, Argyle?" 

"I wanted to thank you for keeping Fudge safe." 

"She was never in any danger." 

"We seem to have wildly differing opinions on what adventure is, Sundance." 

"No, really… Fudge was never in any danger." 

"This is said by a pony that now has a peculiar glow. A glow, I might mention, that causes him to stand out from other ponies. Makes him different. A mark… a brand… a consequence for inquisitive investigation. It is, at best, a distraction during diplomacy, and at worst, a cause for mistrust among the small-minded and the superstitious." 

This gave Sundance pause, and after a moment spent considering these words, he found that he did not have a good response. If Fudge had come home with a glow—Sundance was too fatigued to think of the outcome. Was his radiance a detriment? Time would tell. While some seemed unconcerned about it—such as Bourgogne Blintz's reaction—others might be a bit more nonplussed about his unexpected illumination. While Sundance very much wanted to have a good think about all of this, his brain ached almost as much as his back, and Argyle's state of disheveled distraughtness demanded some manner of action. 

A pegasus was a creature of action, and that's exactly what Sundance did. Trotting, limping on all four legs, but especially on his throwing leg, he went to Argyle's side, sidled up alongside him until their bodies were paralel, and before the earth pony could shy away or escape, Sundance extended one wing and slipped it around Argyle's neck. Perhaps a hug might put things in order. It helped other ponies, with Hollyhock and Sparrowhawk being two easily recalled examples in Sundance's mind. 

"You are as warm and fuzzy as a sun-kissed peach, Sundance. Just what happened to you?" Standing stoically beside Sundance, Argyle endured the awkward embrace with all the aplomb and good grace that could be mustered for the situation. "Alright, alright. That's enough of that. If this gets filmed, ponies will talk." 

After a few seconds of hesitation, uncertain of what was right, Sundance pulled away. 

"So… I am to live out here in the wilderness until such a time that Fillydelphia has been pacified. Is that correct, Miss Blintz?" 

"That is correct," she replied. "Twilight has issued an ultimatum and will be acting on it soon. She is going to withdraw the troops and give the city time to sort itself out and if it fails to do so by the deadline…" Her words trailed off unsaid. 

Argyle leaned forwards, ears erect. "Well?" 

"Twilight does not wish to put the lives of the guardsponies at risk. We're in a war and every life matters. Too many have been lost in foreign conflicts and she's grown weary of casualties at home. If the city continues its tantrum, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, along with Shining Armor, Emperor of the Crystal Empire, and Dim, the Lord of Nightmares will pacify the city by any means necessary." 

Argyle's face hardened into an expressionless mask. 

Meanwhile, Sundance felt his heart sink into his guts, which were already knotted. 

"No one is more upset about this than Twilight. Please, you must understand… this is not a decision she wanted to make. She's lost sleep over this. There must be order at home. We stand upon the precipice of great loss and dire consequences." 

"It's the right thing to do." Strained almost to the point of breaking, Argyle's voice cracked several times during his short sentence. "But I don't have to like it, even if I agree with it. You never did mention when I am going home." 

"Spring, probably. Next spring. Twilight wants plenty of time for tempers to cool. You are to stay here, with Sundance, and make plans for your respective regions. That way, when you do return, you can hit the ground running. Maybe have a little momentum on your side." 

"Twilight"—a long pause interrupted Argyle's response—"is a competent and canny ruler. While I do not like what is happening, I can see the wisdom in what she's doing. Plus, I have no desire to return home and to be immediately overrun by an angry mob." 

"We have a lot of work to do and a whole winter to do it," Sundance said to Argyle. 

"And we'll do it on film, no less. How long does it take to film a documentary, anyhow?" 

Bourgogne shrugged and offered nothing to say in return. 

"I do declare… I find the entire whole of this situation contemptible!" 



 

A creeping sort of euphoria elevated Sundance and left his head in the clouds. Pain wracked his body, but he was fine, mostly, and could deal with that. But it had an effect on his mind. There was also a certain sense of dread about the documentary, but that cause for alarm was almost smothered by a newfound sense of giddiness that left him completely wasted. Utterly distracted. Totally smitten. 

He stood on top of the gatehouse looking down at what had become the courtyard below. Down there amongst the ponies and other creatures was the source of his confuddlement, his woozy sense of unrestrained desire. She stood out, she did. Neutral off-white—some might even say boring beige. Her coat stood out because it was so very plain compared to the pastel rainbows that so saturated little ponies. And then there was her mane and tail, a pale suggestion of what might be purple if only it had but a bit more colour. She was faded. One might even say bleached. As for the eyes behind the thick lenses and horn rimmed frames, they were neither blue nor purple, but some subdued hue that refused to be identified, like a mysterious stain of unknown origins left on unremarkable white fabric. 

She was playing with the foals. 

The sometimes-pornographer was playing with the foals. 

His back burned like a live coal, his hind legs cramped with hidden heat, and he had a terrible crick in his spine just between his wing joints. Yet, he hardly noticed, for such was his fascination with Parsnip Parfait. It was a crush; he was old enough and wise enough to understand exactly what it was, but still young enough and immature enough to be completely overtaken by it. Something about her—everything about her—tickled his imagination. 

"What makes a pony pretty, Sundance?" 

Startled by the sudden question, he snapped out of his state of reverie and tried to make sense of his surroundings. When he looked down at Hornet, he found her staring up at him. Not as a pegasus, but in her true form. Alien. Insectoid, but with a touch of floral oddity. Unable to answer, he stood there with his mouth open while his brain struggled to make all the pieces of his current state of reality fit together. 

"Gotta be honest, Sundance… she's homely by your species standards. Maybe even what others might call ugly. Yet, you seem to find her attractive. Irresistible. I know exactly what you want to do with her. You're trying to subdue your physical compulsion by imagining scenarios of social compatibility. While all of that is interesting to sense and observe, I am far more curious as to why you find her attractive. So, Sundance… what makes a pony pretty?" 

"I haven't figured that out. Why do you ask?" 

"Because I want acceptance. I don't wanna be an ugly bug. I know what others think when they look at me when I'm like this." Reaching up, she tapped three times on her armored carapace with her foreleg and it made a thonk-thonk-thonk sound. "Ever since my pupate-puberty and putting my grubhood behind me, I've tried to figure out what your kind considers pretty. But then ponies like you come along and mess up everything I think I know." 

Suddenly self-conscious, Sundance shook himself while engaging in a mental retreat. A whole lot of things occurred to him all at once and he lacked the mental wherewithal to sort them out. The things that floated up to the surface were less then pleasant; of course Hornet would want to perfect her pony form, because it would make her a better infiltrator. But if that was coupled with the desire to be a pony, and to covet the pony form—his brain balked and was unable to process such a complex thought. 

"Maybe it is psychology," Hornet said, saying his thoughts aloud. "Maybe some part of the survival instincts that drives my species has hijacked my desires and now exploits them. But that doesn't change the fact that I want to be pretty. I want others to look at me and feel all the same sorts of things that you feel for Parsnip. I don't like being a bug. Sometimes. I'm sure there are things I'm doing wrong. Little wrinkles in my illusion. The others… the others are fine with borrowing the forms of those around them. But I don't want to borrow. I want my own image. One that is me. One not stolen." 

"You picked the wrong pony to ask," he replied. "I still haven't figured all of this out for myself. I don't know what makes me attractive or makes me attracted to others. This… this… this has been a thorn in my frog all my life, Hornet." 

"With other ponies, it is so straightforward. There is attractive and there is not-attractive. When I read into their minds, it all feels so samey and kind of stupid. But with you… everything is weird." 

"Thanks, Hornet." 

"I meant that in the nicest way possible. Maybe if I was exposed to more ponies like you, I might be happier. Growing up in the lab, my exposure to ponies was limited. Scientists, mostly. Some guards. And the custodians. They were the most interesting. The janitors. The cleaners. They had simple minds that were easy to pick apart, and what they considered beautiful was easy to catalogue. I was none of those things… but I wanted to be." 

"I think we all want to be beautiful," Sundance remarked. "But we're barraged by what beauty is. The billboards on the sides of tenement towers tell us that a particular brand of toothpaste or some goopy mane pomade will make us beautiful… and let's be honest. Ponies are kind of dumb. We're herd animals, so if a couple of us believe it, then all of us start to believe it because we want to fit in. Except… I never really fit in… and that kinda hurts to think about." 

"Do you want to know what Parsnip thinks of you, Sundance?" 

He froze. Never before had he encountered a question so perilous, so fraught with danger. Even worse, he knew that his companion knew exactly what he was thinking right now. No doubt she was already planning her response. But it didn't have to be this way. He had the means to push into her mind and poke around—though he had no idea how to actually do that. Plus, she was probably aware of the fact that he could do this, that he was thinking about it, that he considered it an option, and she was probably prepared for it. 

Why did life have to be so complicated? 

If you think about the morality of telepaths, your head might explode.

Caught off guard, it took Sundance all of twenty or so seconds to realise that these words were not said aloud, but were broadcasted through the ripples of his grey matter. Even stranger, this message was more than mere words, a sentence. There were feelings here, chief among them amusement. He sensed others, too. Concern. Worry. Fear. Doubt. While the amusement felt pleasant, some of the others caused him considerable discomfort and made his brain itch. 

The trouble with brain itches was that there was no way to open one's skull and scratch them. 

It dawned upon him that River Raider had no means, no methods to shield her mind from brain itches. She had no filter, no defenses against unpleasant emotions, and so she resigned herself to a lonesome existence. Feeling unsettled and insecure, his mind attempted to shove all these thoughts out through his ears—and failed, miserably. He was stuck with them, cursed with awareness. Once a pony knew something, there was no going back to the blissful state of ignorance that one enjoyed previously. He thought of Princess Luna's lonesomeness, her isolation, her solitude. Why, he was barely cognizant of this newfound awareness and he already wanted nothing to do with it. 

Just imagine all of that coupled with the awareness that every pony around you thinks that you are hideous. A monster. An eyesore. Feeling their disgust. Their revulsion. Imagine feeling all of that… and just wanting to be pretty.

"I need my brain fixed," he said aloud. "There's no way I can live with this." 

"Sundance, it doesn't work that way—" 

"I don't want to be like this." 

"To be honest, neither did I. But I am what I am. And you are what you are. Your mind was already receptive, but it slumbered. A lot of the pegasus guards had sleeping minds. Some of the unicorns, too. And yes, even the earth ponies. But mostly pegasus ponies. Enough has happened to your mind that it awoke." 

This bothered him in ways that words could not express. 

"How am I supposed to be a good pony if my brain is capable of such treachery?" 

"The same could be asked about bodies," Hornet replied. "Don't physical urges overwhelm you? The body makes demands. There are carnal needs. I don't see the mind being that different." 

"Ideas are dangerous," he said to her in a low whisper. "Ideas spread through music and print. Through books and songs and slogans and billboards. But to have them go from mind to mind unchecked… unfiltered… there are some thoughts that can't be unthunk." 

The little 'ling laughed aloud; she giggled and chortled in her peculiar insectoid manner. 

"A single errant thought could spread like wildfire." 

"Like you said… you're a herd animal." Hornet's voice changed in some strange way, and it was as if she now spoke with dozens of voices all at once. "All herd animals have some psychic potential. Even without sapiance and language, when your kind were just primitive plains-dwellers. The herd moved as one. Acted as one. There was a connection shared by the entire herd. Your scientists call them mirror neurons and they are what allow for mind-to-mind communication. 

"But you are a sapient species… developed. Beyond that, you have magic. That makes you fine prey for psychovorous species and emovores. My ancestors once traveled from star to star… we dwelt in the dark spaces between the stars. We would sleep and hibernate in our hiveships for millennia until we chanced upon a world whose inhabitants evolved a particular set of traits, and when we sensed them, we would awaken from our long-enduring slumber. We even learned to slip between realities, so that we might find prey in other whens and wheres. But something happened on this world. We got stranded. Stuck. 

"We got stuck and we could not return to the stars. That part of our memory is gone. Erased. Destroyed. Altered. Edited. Forever removed." The sound of dozens of dispirited sighs could be heard escaping her. "Stranded, marooned, your kind and my kind existed as enemies for as far back as our collective whole can remember. Queen Chrysalis wanted it this way. We suspect that she somehow altered our collective memories. Her crimes are too numerous to list. 

"As hard as she tried to corrupt us… we endured. One thought, even one borne upon indomitable will, was not the end of us, so your fears of stray thoughts being a danger are unfounded."

Then, in a singular voice once more, Hornet added, "Your kind saved us from the Queen of Corruption. You have ensured our survival. Our debt to you is great. You offered aid to your most hated enemy." 

After such a long and grueling day, Sundance was left with no response.