The end of my mission in the prison approached when winter returned. More ponies, friends of the Revolution, were brought branded as criminals and were left to rot with the rest of us. They reported on the events transpiring in Pricessyn. Protests increased in frequency, and often devolved into bloody riots. Many of the new prisoners were often stragglers from those battles. Rumors spread of a great protest, organized by Steel Stallion himself, that would march to Regent Hall on the night of Hearth's Warming Eve, as an act of civil disobedience. The number of Guards in the prison lessened to aid in suppressing the resistance as the Beasts of Princessyn fought against its masters.. Every day, the conditions for our plan ripened.
On the supposed day of the great protest, the afternoon was filled with the sounds of violence and war. Almost instantaneously, scores of ponies were brought to fill the cells. I questioned one of them.
“What’s going on out there?”
“The great protest, comrade! When we tried to get past the Guards to get to the Square, a unit of the Captain’s personal army arrived and fired upon us! They have reinforcements on the way and have taken much of the city. We are fighting them with all our might, but each skirmish demands a payment of blood from both sides of the battle-lines.”
I put a hoof on her shoulder. “Worry not, friend. They’re gonna get a great payment from us.”
Night came to Princessyn, and with it was our mandatory sleep period monitored by a dwindling number of overburdened, tense Guards. My inmates slept in their cots while I banged on the iron bars a spoon I smuggled from the canteen. I hooted and hollered into the Great Hallway, attracting the attention of two patrolling Guards.
“Hey you! Shut up and get back to sleep!” One commanded, her eyes bloodshot from fatigue.
I backed up deeper into the cell and glared at her.
“Make me.”
She gave a bitter smirk. “You asked for it.” She unholstered her issued revolver and aimed it at me. My cocky act was almost betrayed by beads of sweat forming on my forehead and the shakiness in my legs. I had not the fortitude of the Chief, but I did have the foresight of this threat. The Guard motioned for her partner, but as he came in with a baton, I saw a stirring in the cots next to me. My inmates pounced on both of the Guards and tightened blankets around their necks. The Guards choked and sputtered until they could no more. Gunfire echoed from within the streets of Princessyn.
I scavenged the revolver from the fallen patrol and equipped its holster. My accomplices took a ring of keys from them. We entered into the Grand Hallway where we were in view of most of the cells. I gestured to my inmates.
“The others will check on the patrol soon I wager. Lock and block the entrance before we start freeing the rest of our comrades.”
“No problem, Toffee.”
Newly freed prisoners began pouring out onto the floor of the Grand Hallway wielding makeshift weapons that were scavenged and crafted over a course of months. Shouting and clanging came from the barricaded metal doors that led into the prison proper. I gathered my band of freedom fighters.
“Take each side of the doors, and wait for them to enter.”
Ponies scurried to their positions, and waited in ambush. Seconds stretched to minutes as the clanging continued relentlessly. The doors flung open abruptly, throwing debris and Guards out into the Grand Hallway. Their rapid entry temporarily blinded them of their exposed flanks. Inmates crushed the Guards from either side, beating them with rocks, thrusting with sharpened spoons, and slashing with stolen knives until our great mass pushed them back through the doorway.
We trampled and mangled the desecrated bodies of the Guards, their few numbers unable to hold us back. My comrades delved into the prison as they raided its chambers and liberated the rest of its inhabitants. Horns blared in alarm, rousing the garrisoned reserves of the jail’s Guards. In the chaos, I assembled a small army of inmates and led them into the barracks area. The intensity of the Guards increased as we penetrated deeper into their quarters. My revolver’s ammunition became scarce, for the Guards began deploying with rifles to stop our advance. Wounds appeared on my body while my compatriots fell one by one. Blood streamed the lacerations that uncovered flesh and bone.
I slumped my back onto the awesome door of the armory, streaking it with a sanguine red. War-cries resonated through the empty halls of the barracks, yet the scattered dead did not respond to them. Summoning the vestiges of my strength, I opened the armory with the keys from a lifeless Guard. Firearms stood at attention among racks, glittering like jewels in the flickering light of lanterns. Remnants of my cadre limped and shuffled into the holy room. A few of them unfolded blankets and set to work pilfering its contents while others tended to my injuries. We dragged and pushed sackfuls of weapons along with crates of their ammunition to our fellow inmates.
Newly equipped with the proper implements of Revolution, our great horde overwhelmed the Guards and sent them retreating out into the ruined city of Princessyn. My brothers and sisters in arms followed me outside into the biting cold of winter and we marched towards the melodies of battle. Although the prison was liberated, our work was not yet done.
My sweet Princessyn wore the scars of combat. Guards and revolutionaries littered the streets and were as numerous as the brass casings. Banners protesting the Regent clung to the dead buildings, and signs, splattered with blood, were still clutched in the hooves of their deceased creators. The frequency of bodies increased as my shoddy army trudged through the city-wide graveyard battlefield. Some of my group added their own selves to the frozen landscape.
We approached the frontlines of the battle from behind the Guards. Officers looked back in shock at our relentless legion of bloody, battered ponies shrouded in darkness and risen from the dead. Our sudden appearance was made clear to the rest of the soldiery which then began retreating from their fortification to their secured areas of Princessyn. We charged viciously into their rout, ensuring that few of them would escape. When the bloodshed sank into the snow, ponies, led by a stallion, climbed over the barricades to praise our timely arrival. I recognized him as one of Steel Stallion’s companions, so I made my way over to shake his hoof.
“Pleased to finally meet you, Vasily. I hope my little company of prisoners wasn’t too late,” I sputtered between coughs.
He smiled warmly. “They certainly weren’t, comrade. But we mustn't bask in our victory now. We still have a city to take.”
Our breakthrough triggered a collapse of the Guard's battle-lines for our amassed forces pierced into the line’s now vulnerable flanks. Revolutionaries fought fiercely against the Guards, often resorting to using the rifles as spears and the pistols as clubs when ammunition diminished. Adrenaline alone, fueled by carnage and hope, carried my body. The further we pushed towards the Square, the more merciless we became. For every stretch of city we freed, I endured more wounds and drowned deeper in my blood. When we did arrive at the Square, we found its entrances blocked with ramparts of rubble. A rolling thunder came from behind us in the streets of the city. Vasily yelled over the cry of the Revolution.
“Steady yourselves, comrades! Steel Stallion has brought a solution to our problem!”
Trailing our warpath was a great, steel Beast covered in scorch marks and scratches, it’s tractor body topped with a head-like turret. Its metal belts moved it along slowly, but inevitably as dark smoke belched from its exhaust. The Beast smashed through the barrier effortlessly and shrugged off the incoming gunfire from the Guards in the Square.
Swathes of the remaining defenders surrendered while others retreated into the Regent Hall, the last connection Princess had to Royal Equestria. Ponies with pyromancies and crude firebombs assaulted the grossly imposing sight of the building, setting it aflame. A sickly pony appeared from the head of the Beast and surveyed the Square crowded with rebels illuminated by the fiery Hall. Hidden within the crowd, a mare with mismatching eye colors approached him, and whispered something to the Stallion. He nodded in approval and climbed out onto the top of the machine.
“Comrades! Altidiya has informed me that the Equestrian Guard has begun withdrawing from Princessyn!”
Cheers and applause filled the Square for the first time in many years. He continued.
“Do not rest now friends! Our Revolution is still being fought in the harbors of Saint Petershoof, the factories of Konzan, and all of Severyana! We, the ponies, have defeated the might of the bourgeois Guard. No amount of bits can save them or their selfish masters from the will of the proletariat! Prepare my brothers and sisters in arms, for our fight has only begun!”
The Square erupted again with hurrahs and cheers while the Regent Hall smoldered and crumbled back to the same dirt and dust Princessyn was built upon. Tonight was our victory; my last victory.
My usefulness to the Revolution slowly waned. I coughed and hobbled to the industrial district, though my injuries demanded that I rest. Each factory I passed showed signs of a brutal struggle. I eventually found myself at one particular factory, the only one that I would know its corridors and stairways.
The innards of my little factory harbored a state of neglect. Rust infested the machines and rubbish covered the floor along with the dead. In contrast, the manager’s office was virtually untouched, refurbished even, despite the broken window stained with blood. A picture of the Chief hung in view of where the manager would sit. Gravel’s ornate desk remained in the same position, as if this was how it always existed. I dragged my grisly legs towards the chair that once seated Gravel. It felt the same as the other one.
My eyes drooped shut, finally giving in to exhaustion while I reclined. Darkness enveloped the office and my decrepit body. As life’s grip weakened on me, an amused voice spoke aloud.
“Ya know this fight ain’t over yet, Toffee.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Then what are ya doin’ here?”
“Resting.”
“If ya stop, ya won’t be able to get goin’ again.”
“At this rate, I wouldn’t get too far anyway.”
The voice laughed and the darkness was accompanied with a soothing glow. “I guess ya did earn it. Getting them prisoners organized and takin’ the city must’ve been hard without me.”
My eyes finally opened. The country home felt snug and the sun shined majestically through the windows. Gravel sat next to me on the sofa, her moistened eyes shining like the gleam of the revolver. I chuckled.
“It certainly was. Now they can help give another chance to the forlorn ponies of Severyana...just like how you gave it to me.”
She hugged me tightly, yet her touch felt distant and cold. “A’hm guessin’ you gotta get back to ‘em then.”
I stroked her mane. “I think our Revolution will prevail with or without me, but I don’t want to give fate the opportunity to ruin it in front of me.” Her embrace became warmer for every word I spoke. “Besides, this place is my refuge from it. Our refuge.”
Tears streaming, Gravel gazed into my eyes. “Yer finally home, Toffee!”
“Home sweet home, Gravel.”