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.

Author's Notes:

Argh, sunlight creeping in through window! Save me!