General Winter

by SONBoomer

The three pupils

The silver-gray train rocketed through the snowy mountainside. It's engine, the "North-Equestria Phantom", as the press called it, roared down on it's set of tracks, pulling the long line of articulated, triple-boogied coaches with all it's might. An enormous machine, it's pair of eighteen-cylinder diesel engines blasted, revving every turn of a millisecond, the turbocharge whirring and wailing, competing with the deafening sound of the wind. Like an arrowhead, the locomotive was both beautiful, and terrifying in the same time, it's silvery sides imprinted with the insignia of the Union's Railways: an engine wheel surrounded by the blade of a sickle, with a hammer serving as it's coupling rod.

The rails, albeit far broader than the Equestrian standard, still shook under the train's weight and speed, as if trembling in fear and awe before the machination's might. The embankment they stood upon was a frozen dam of ballast and other rocks, only supported by some heavily deteriorated, leaning ferro-concrete walls and the murderously cold and surprisingly damp air: even during a snowstorm, the air remained moist and cold enough to cover anything with a thick layer of sleet ice. The chromed train was a sight that surprised even the tall, sharp mountains themselves, as they did not echo the tremendous cacophony of the engine and the coaches.

The mist beneath, which persisted to exist even when the sun broke through the dark clouds of the region, or when the thunderstorms of summer deafened the valley with the echoes of thunder, eagerly reverberated by the mountain rocks. Now, as the blizzard became even more hostile than ever, anyone who would've been able to stay alive for more than a minute in the desolate wasteland of Долина Мертвой Зимы , the Valley of Dead Winter, could have sworn to see the engine smile, as it sped down the line like a bolt of lightning, leaving the Frozen Hell to it's own lonesome existence.

The light gray, cigarette smoke-like fumes poured out from the exhaust ports at the rear of the engine, while the gill-like railings of the air intake whistled sharply near the front. The smoke was thick, as thick as that of a steam engine's, yet it seemed to be a streak of light beneath the overcast sky, which trailed above the chromed stainless steel.

Within the coach, the color of the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling was that of deep crimson, as the trademark blood red felt drapery, silk and velvet produced at Niva, coated the interior of all passenger wagons - there were no classes in the Northern rail system, which many thought of as a bit over the top, attempting to bring social "classlessness" into practical use. It was comfortable, still. Lavish, even. For pauper and prince alike. This was, of course, much welcomed by the three mares and the baby dragon, seated within the middle coach.

They could've picked one with a cabin, but they felt that the excessive... Redness of it all would be smothering in such a compacted space, and instead, they searched for a coach that was half empty - they set up their "camp" in the compartment behind the pivoting joint.

They were unicorns, one lavender with a darker, purplish-black mane and tail, with with two stripes, one neon pink and the other deep purple, her eyes currently resting on the pages of a particularly thick book. Beside her sat the aforementioned dragonspawn, coated with green and purple scales, currently snoozing, his nose lit by the perpetually flare of a green Bunsen-flame. On the opposite seat slept an azure mare, using her own, star-splattered purple cape as a blanket, her hat covering her face, but failing to cover the silvery-blue mane poking out from underneath it. Next to her was a light orange mare, with fiery red and yellow crest and tail, staring out into the inhospitable landscape, it's cold trapped outside by the many layers of drapery, steel, wiring, riveting, and, in her case, a black-tinted, thermally insulated window.

They've been in this position since the two had woken up, waiting for the other two to rise from their slumber as well. Uninterrupted, the lavender mare read her book, the fiery one kept staring out into the misty, mountainous landscape.

Well, that was until the azure one began snoring.

"Aw, come on!"

"Trixie!" Sunset hissed, kicking into the blanket. It yelped, and the aforementioned tumbled onto the ground. The baby dragon also came to his senses, and glanced around...

"Huh-wha...?" he muttered, shivering slightly "Are we there yet?"

"No, Spike, not yet..." Sunset Shimmer replied, before glaring down at the flailing amalgamation of clothes and pony, as if it was it's, or correctly, her fault that they've yet to arrive.

"Was Trixie snoring again?" the dragonling yawned.

And on that cue...

"I CERTAINLY DID NOT!" the blue mare yelled, finally shoving her own cape off her face, glaring up at the fiery unicorn indignantly. Then, she snuck a quick glance at the lavender mare.

Twilight merely nodded, and returned to her book, her assistant stretching beside her.

"It sure is quite far away..." Spike commented. As it should be expected of all his state-the-obvious comments, the retort was caustic in tone.

"Of course it's far, you dolt!" Sunset hissed "We ARE going to freaking Stalliongrad, for crying out loud!"

"Sunset, calm down." Twilight muttered, not looking up from her book.

"Just because it's name doesn't appeal for your militant neo-feminist views, you shouldn't curse it!" Trixie retorted.

"Trixie, that was uncalled for." Twilight mumbled, turning the page.

"What does that has to do with everything?!" Sunset snapped "I just wanna get off this damn train, go into town, and get this done and over with!"

"Sunset, please calm down." the lavender mare droned, before adding "Also, for your knowledge, trains of the Union's Railways have been equipped with a banquet of commodities, such as a buffet, cafeteria and restaurant, dining car, sleeping units, and, of course, restrooms." she smiled mischievously, having successfully drawn the others' attention to the tightly closed legs and fidgeting of the light orange mare.

With a huff, Sunset departed, towards the end of the coach, but as soon as she was out of sight, they could hear her hooves picking up the pace, as she rushed towards sweet relief.

The three of them laughed, before Trixie got off her seat, dropping her hat on it.

"Well, I'm off as well. The Grrreat and Powerful TRRRIXIE... Needs some peanut butter crackers!" and she trotted off towards the buffet.

Twilight sighed, and closed her book, memorizing the page number with a quick glance. Leaning back, she stared out through the window, into the blizzard in front, the mountains behind, the mist beneath and the clouds above.

Two more hours.

Even with the military-grade tracks at their expense, the Transequestrian Express wouldn't be able reach the Northern Region in a day's worth of time , especially with the amount of detours it had to take to avoid traffic congestion, of all things. Rails or not, the vast majority of Equestria was making it's way to Stalliongrad, hoping to celebrate the first ever Winterval in ages, where the Equestrian Triarchy and the Union of Councils would celebrate together, for the first time.

Sure, the supposed "Cold War" between the two superpower neighbors had long since turned lukewarm, almost cozy, even. Still, the wall that once visualized the ideological border between the two states was now nothing more than a safety precaution, waiting to be used in case of some unusually devastating disaster, such as a viral zombie outbreak, mass flooding, or reactor meltdowns that would otherwise leave both sides as one, toxic wasteland.

With the "Era of Dictators" far behind them, and with the two OTHER princesses joining the Equestrian Royal Court, the political climate of the Equestrian "Maneland" seemed to stabilize nicely. To crown this progress (a bit hastily, according to some), the Supreme Council and the Royal Tribune decided to hold the once Pan-Equestrian tradition of the Winterval celebration, an event mostly originating from the North, that thanked winter itself for allowing the fauna and flora to rest, and leave the ponies of the land at ease. Celebrated throughout mid-winter, the tradition faded during the First Pan-Equine War, especially after the November Revolution, immediately followed by the Winter War, in which - for some reason - the cold, harsh weather only seemed to aid the Communalist Red Army, while it pushed back the Tsarist/Nationalist White Guard into the top, left-hand side of the country, as the Anarchist Insurgent Army tearing up the oppressive peace down south beneath them. In the end, the borders were set within. Eventually, however, the Reds' luck ran out, as the brutal climate forced all fronts into a ceasefire.

The Anarchists liberated the whole of Yucrane, and since their views were not to different from the original ideas of Coal Marks and Friendly Angles, the "War Commissariat" - as it was called back then - allowed theis "political experiment" to continue.

As for the White Guard... Well, in the end, they were offered land and peace, as long as they didn't bother anyone within the newly formed Union. Outnumbered, exhausted, and at the end of their resources, they gladly accepted the offer, bringing an end to the civil war. Their capital, Minx, still proudly bore the pristine white flag, the symbol of Guard movement, the new flag of Belostrana. For some time, it was a common dare among ponies and griffons alike to ask a Snownorthern - or "Snorthern", as the former White Guard members were called - to explain why they were flying the flag of defeat. After a few nasty cases of vendetta, the dares stopped.

That was over a hundred years ago.

Forty years ago, the organization of such an event like a Pan-Equestrian Winterval would've been financially, politically and physically impossible.

Thirty years ago, the idea that all members of the Union of Councils would have to work together would've been equally impossible.

Twenty years ago, Sunset would've been forced to hold it all the way to Stalliongrad, and Trixie would've starved... And no doubt, even Spike would be kept awake by the loud rattling screeching of the overtaxed, outdated coaches.

Ten years ago, the idea of all three Princesses visiting would've been physically impossible, to say the least...

...But reforms are, indeed, quite useful things...

As the train left the isolated mountain range behind, Twilight was able to see the threadbare taiga of the region. Feeble-looking deciduous trees, groaning, bending at the will of the fierce wind, twisted and gnarled to a point where even getting a better look at them would make a pony scream in agony - feeling the pain of battling the harsh weather for countless years.

Yes, this was it.

The Northern Region.

The Union of Communalist Council Republics.

Recognized by the vast majority of the planet as an independent country in a close, almost "intimate" alliance with Equestria, and as an autonomous region by the former.

Twilight sighed.

She loved to study - that was what got her into Celestia's School of Gifted Unicorns, after all... And then some.

But the feeling of experience, being able to see, hear, feel, smell and even taste whatever she had learned about, to visit the places she had studied in books, atlases and other documents, to be there, rather than just reading about it.

She allowed Spike to snuggle up to her side - it was getting increasingly difficult, as Spike was aging only thrice as slow as a pony, and even this difference was steadily decreasing. Approaching his early teens, the dragon was no longer a humble little ball of scales and flames that Princess Celestia tended to like a loving mother, but more like the little brother of the three unicorn mares - and slowly, but surely outgrowing them...

There was a quiet sniffle in the coach...

Followed by a quick, quiet whine...

As if somepony was quietly crying...

"Can't believe I haven't noticed the sign on the way in..." Sunset groaned, before she heard the noise "Huh?"

"WATCH IN AWE!" Trixie declared, stepping back into the section from her trip to the buffet car "The Great and Generous Trixie has bought enough for ALL of you!" she then heard the sniffles and hiccups as well "Oh?"

Instantly, the ran back to their seats. They knew what they would see, but still, like every other time, the sight hurt them deeper than expected.

Twilight Sparkle sat up in her seat, hugging the still sleeping drake close to her chest, rocking back and forth gently, as tears streaked her face.

The two other mares let out a sorrow sigh, and sat beside their teary friend, trying to soothe her ruffled feelings.

"It's OK, Twilight." Trixie whispered, petting the mare gently "It's alright."

"No, it's not..." the lavender pony stated.

"Look, Twilight..." Sunset murmured "You gave your best, and you did what you could. No-one could've expected that this'll... Happen..."

"Not even the Princess..."

"What?"

"HOW COULD PRINCESS CELESTIA ALLOW THIS?!" the mare yelled, making her friends jump "How could she allow me to do such a thing?!"

"It wasn't the Princess, Twilight, it was the School Board Presidency..." Trixie argued "They banned the dragon egg test as soon as word has gotten out of Spike's... Condition..."

"Like that would help him any bit..." the mare grumbled, her tristful tears replaced by angry ones.

"Twilight..." Sunset began "I have trust in you. We all do. You rarely make mistakes, and there wasn't one that you weren't able to correct. You WILL find the solution!"

"I've heard that before..." Twilight growled.

Sunset's eyes turned cold.

"...Or I will murder you."

Slowly, but surely, the two dumbstruck mares turned to their fiery colleague. There was a certain shine in Sunset's eyes.

She wasn't joking...

Their somber mood was interrupted by the engine's horn.

It was í deep sound, like a ship's horn, but soft, like a train's whistle. A composure-breaking, soft sorrow, as if one had taken a peek under the mask of the mighty machine, finally seeing the lonely night train underneath the chrome and speed. It surprised many, and, in a poetic way, urged you to think.

Suddenly, Twilight felt a grip tightening on her waist.

Looking down, she saw that Spike had snuggled up to her in his sleep.

Smiling, she held him close once more, before staring out through the window.

"Seems like we still managed to make up for lost time." she murmured, before gently waking the dragon with a few nudges "Wake up, Spike. We're here!"

As they came around the bend, they looked ahead.

Before them towered the city of Stalliongrad, it's collective farms greeting them on their way in. A sharp mountain, one of the many smaller, South-North oriented ranges found up and down among the wide empty planes, provided a blue background to the city, as the station came into view.

"Get your luggage ready, girls..." Sunset ordered, allowing herself a small, confident smile "We've got a Winterval to set!"

Comments

[Mooncalf]

An interesting setup, to be sure. The lengthy digression on Pony Russia was a bit wordy, but presumably necessary to establish what's going on. The bit about Twilight crying made little sense, but I assume Spike's 'condition' will be explained in better detail later. These three being fellow students and thus allies is an interesting concept, and I look forward to seeing how the dynamic develops.

Nothing to complain about in regards to the writing. Good job.

[SONBoomer]

Thanks!