Epilogue
Casting Off
It didn’t end there, of course. The troops had to be called off, for one thing. Luckily, between the barricades and the blunt weapons of the defenders, no one was seriously injured, and neither side had much stomach for fighting anyway. By early morning, it was all over.
There was still the issue of the antagonists, the Field Marshall and the Commodore, both of whom were a little worse for wear. It was swiftly becoming clear that they’d have to be taken back to Canterlot sooner rather than later to face some kind of trial, although the question of what they’d be accused of was a knotty one. Celestia had said they needed to be taken somewhere public to be shown to the nation. It’d make a good demonstration, she'd said, of the new culture of culpability Stoker wanted.
And then of course, there were the promised changes to debate. Throughout the night, she sat with the welcoming committee and Keel (“Where would you be without me if another bunch of mad armed nutters turn up?” he’d said) in the North Star, wrangling over the details. Char-wallahs dashed in and out, crewmembers, factory workers and random townsfolk all turned out to gawk as they thundered on into the night. The proprietor watched them nervously from the bar, polishing the same glass over and over.
Arrangements were reached, in the end. No one left completely happy, because how could they, but no one left unsatisfied. A decree had been drafted in full, several pages filled with notions of equality, liberty, and every pony a brother (or sister). The draft would of course have to go back to Canterlot for review, public enquiry and a few other democratic gestures, but with the Princess' approval, it was all but law. That might not stop ponies from ignoring it, but at least it was there.
The tractor axle factory’s ownership remained a mystery, but the title deed arrived in the possession and bearing the signature of Sandblast. That put him, and by extension the rest of the union, in charge, which as far as anyone was concerned, seemed a fair outcome. The mayor kept giving him funny looks, but said nothing.
At the end of the talks, Princess Celestia offered to repay the ponies of Nowheregorod for the damage done to the town during the brief battle. The mayor agreed quite happily, but the ponies themselves solemnly shook their heads. ‘Mustn’t grumble’ was the cry.
And like that, the story found a new ending.
* * *
Celestia raised the sun personally that morning. There was no real need to, since Luna would be the one doing the actual raising today, but she felt that some ceremony was demanded. Keel and Anchorage watched from the deck of the Ponytemkin. Behind her, as she rose, the sun crept up the sky. Slightly out of sync, if anyone had cared to notice.
It was unseasonably warm that morning. The panic surrounding the Princess’ visit had upset the weather like nothing else, and the storm the army had brought with yesterday had cleared the air. Already, the snow and ice around the dock was sparkling in the morning sun as it melted. Of course, that was no bad thing. One of the stipulations of the agreement had been that the Ponytemkin would leave Nowheregorod and never return, so loose ice and a speedy exit were very much in order. The mayor had been quite adamant about that, and most of the townsponies had been in agreement. Social change and historic events were all well and good, they reasoned, but they’d prefer if it didn’t happen in their back yards.
One of the Wrap-Up boilers had been set up on the fo’castle to melt a path out to sea, and already a couple of deckhooves were stoking it up. Anchorage sighed and leaned up on the railings. Keel was still in his stretcher.
“All in all,” he said, “that could have been worse.”
“Much worse,” said Keel. “Hopefully that’ll be an end to it.”
Down on the docks, the mayor was making a short speech, but all eyes were on the Ponytemkin. Anchorage saw Sandblast, dressed in what was presumably his best suit, and gave him a wave. Sandblast grinned and waved back. He’d said that even if no one else wanted to see them, there’d always be room up at the factory and a warm mug of tea waiting for fellow comrades.
“You haven’t seen Stoker, have you?” Said Anchorage, idly.
“I think he was down below, helping get the boilers running,” said Keel. “Wanted to make sure everything was alright. I swear, that kid acts like the world relies on ‘im.”
Anchorage nodded. He didn’t know where Stoker got the energy. For his part, he hadn’t realised how tired he felt. What he needed right now, he pondered, was a lie down, maybe a cup of tea. The tea would be a long time coming, though. The wallahs were being bolshy.
He shut his eyes for a moment. The sounds of the ship being made ready began to echo around him. Ropes were cast off, the Wrap-Up boiler chuntered into life and two deckhooves aimed the hose down. Anchorage heard the hiss of steam as it melted a path through the ice. Any minute they’d be off.
There was a sound behind him, like a brick wrapped in quilt landing on deck. He turned, bleary-eyed and saw Princess Celestia standing there, alone and smiling warmly. It was, he reflected, the sort of smile you could believe in. He nodded his head and smiled back. Keel made a vague greeting noise.
“Ma’am,” he said. And then, more curiously. “Beg pardon, but aren’t you heading off to Canterlot?”
She laughed, clear as a bell.
“I thought I’d hitch a lift down the coast. If you’re going south, that is.”
Anchorage glanced deferentially at Keel, who gazed off into the distance.
“South...” he said, rolling it around in his mouth, tasting the word. “Yes, south, why not? I’ve never been further south than Grimesby. I should like to see it. I hear it’s sunny for at least four months a year down there.”
“Set sail south, then,” said the Princess, smiling. “I want to get away from here. The... the land doesn’t agree with me.”
Anchorage called up to the bridge tower, where the navigator nodded through the hole in the bridge window. He turned back to the Princess.
“They say there’s something in the air. Something to do with the factory.” said Anchorage, conversationally. He paused, looking pensive for a moment. Then, in a curious tone, said, “D’you reckon it’ll work? All those thing Stoker asked for?”
“It’s easier to change laws than opinions. I suppose all we can do is hope.”
“True enough,” said Keel, in what was presumably his idea of a sage tone. “What can any of us do but-”
A steam whistle high up interrupted him, and the ship barged on its way. Propellers engaged and churned the ice into slush. Smoke poured from the funnels and chunks were shoved roughly aside. Under a clear sky, the Ponytemkin went south for the winter.
* * *
Lieutenant Crossfire Hurricane spent a short time at the Stalliongrad Barracks in an administrative capacity. After a month she applied for transfer to the Royal Guards regiment in Canterlot, which was rejected. As a result, she resigned from her post and moved out west. She currently works as a train driver, and claims that the noise, smoke and steam are ‘therapeutic’.
Sandblast is still the coordinator of a highly successful employee-owned tractor axle factory. Under his auspices, it has been through thick and thin, and despite his best efforts, remains the second-largest in Equestria. And yes, he’s still single, ladies.
During her sister’s leave of absence, Princess Luna saved the city of Canterlot from three major magical disasters, two eldritch abominations from before the dawn of time and an invasion of mane lice. She received widespread praise at the time for solving all six problems with a campaign to encourage personal hygiene. She has never mentioned it to her sister.
Captain Blueblood was stripped of his rank by an inquiry into the mutiny (specifically into the cowardly, self-serving and generally incompetent nature of those who were supposed to stop it) and was ejected from the Equestrian Royal Navy with little ceremony. He slunk off to live the quiet life of landed aristocracy in Canterlot, until the infamous Guacamole Futures Debacle pulled him once more kicking and screaming (all too literally, as it happened) into the public eye. The less said about that, though, the better. It has already been covered in considerable detail in Black Shoal’s seminal work In the Green: How Avocado Bankrupted a Nation.
The mutiny aboard the Ponytemkin was dramatised in director Sergei Grazenstein's famous film. The exact events were embellished, and some parts were fabricated entirely (the most famous example being The Bit With the Stairs And The Pram). The residents of Nowheregorod will always say they prefer the film.
The Fifty-Cal was officially declared a war-crime by the international community, and was banned under the Enfield Agreement. The only working example was sent to be decommissioned at the Toola arsenal, but went missing en route. The very same week, a similar device went on sale in the classifieds of the Equestrian Inquirer as a pest control device. An investigation was launched by the Curzon Street Indefatigables, whereupon the weapon was discovered being used as an automatic whisk in a cake shop in Ponyville. Its current owner refused to say from whom she had acquired it, but did comment that it “made one mean meringue”. Further investigation is pending.