Equestrian Socialism has prevailed on Equus. Now, the continent revolves around the Socialist Union of Equestria. These are stories from the time that follows.
In 1011 ALB, the Changelings attacked, flooding across the border. Town after town fell, Harmony fell to its lowest point. Seeing his opportunity, Sinister Serov, leader of Stalliongrad, attacked Equestria. Within a year, Equestria had fallen to the joint Changeling-Stalliongradian invasion. The nation was split between the two powers.
Most international observers believed the Changelings would continue, conquering the rest of Equus. Sure enough, the war resumed in 1013. However, to the surprise of many, the new Socialist Republic of Equestria prevailed. The Equestrians believed the SRE to be a more tolerable option compared to the Changelings. This cooperation allowed Sinister to rally the population against their common enemy.
By 1017, the war was over.
The new government has won the good will of many, but the nation is not devoted to the ideals of Socialism. It has yet to be seen whether Equestrian Socialism will prevail in peace as it has in war.
This will be a series of short stories of the fragile peace that follows.
The tavern is full. Equestrian soldiers fill the hall with laughter and boasts. Three months before, they had stormed through the Polar Bear lands, uniting Equus under the banner of socialism. Most toast to relatives or complain about officers and commissars, few tell others their war stories or even their aspirations. 10 years back, most had been farmers. Hailing from the area little west of Albion. They had lived simple lives; they had believed in Celestia, in the elements of Harmony, and most importantly, they had believed the world they knew would continue on.
Now, they celebrate the new years as citizens of a new nation, one they could not have imagined. The bar owner ramps up the volume of the radio. It amplifies the sound of classic new year songs, most written before the war.
Suddenly, the music from the radio stopped. A few ponies notice the pause, but the entire bar is silenced when "Arise" blasts. The soldiers know this signifies an important announcement.
Sure enough, they hear a gruff voice from the speakers.
"Rise, this is an important announcement from the Premier of the Socialist Republic of Equestria, Comrade Sinister Serov."
Moments later, a softer but equally intense voice comes on. It's familiar, one with a slight Severyanan accent. It'd been present when Stalliongradian armies occupied Eastern Equestria, up to the final victory speech in the Spring of 1017. Since then, they had heard surprisingly little of the Premier. Other than important holidays, Sinister’s speeches had been surprisingly absent from public life. Not even with the invasion of the Polar Bears did the old Stallion make one of his passionate speeches. Many a pony is anxious to hear his words.
"Hello everyone, comrades and citizens of the Republic. I apologize for my absence from public view for the past year. But now, I have news of vital national importance,”
Sinister coughs, it's a brief one. However, the pause heightens the tension in the room.
“Ponies, I come to you not as Premier but as a simple stallion. Guiding the ship of state has not made me numb to wonders and walking through the city of Manehatten, I can only stand in awe. Where there was animosity, there is now solidarity. Prudence, where there was indulgence. Great factories have arisen from nothing! Ponies from the country assemble the finest tanks and planes the world has ever seen! I know you can see it too! Do you not see the greatness we have created?!
Through blood, sweat, and tears, we have created a new world! We beat back the Changeling threat, we have transformed our nation into a bastion of equality, our triumph will echo through the ages!
Across Equus, creatures of all sizes have joined in our Revolution! The old order is crumbling!
Now, let it be said that I harbor no hatred for Celestia. For millennia, she ruled with compassion. However, Alicorn rule is not suited for the modern age! In her naivety, she enabled the actions of crooked plutocrats. She let Equestrian defenses crumble to a dire state and did nothing to advance the rights of our Thestral brothers and sisters.
We thank her for her service, but it is a new age. Now, ponies take control of their own destiny!
Now, comrades! Onto the main order of business. The war is over, yet our nation is in tatters. We must seek not to simply rebuild but to create something wholly new. Millions in our country lack housing, and the cost of goods has skyrocketed. Our armies are victorious, but the war on poverty has yet to be won.
To combat this, the Supreme Council has approved a comprehensive economic recovery plan. Millions of new homes, tens of thousands of miles of rail and road, and countless factories will be built! In particular I have to thank Comrade and Minister of Industry Vasilily and his Special Committee of Economic Recovery. In his honor, this doctrine will be dubbed the Vasilily Plan.
I will not lie to you, the road ahead will be difficult, but I have faith that we, ponies, shall win this peace and win our future!
However, to carry out this plan, drastic changes must be made. Since the establishment of our Republic, it has been one unitary entity with one government of the people. In war, this was useful, but we must now think ahead.
By the dictate of the Supreme Council, by the end of today, the Socialist Republic of Equestria shall be no more. To replace it, the Socialist Union of Equestria shall be established!
This will be a federation of 7 co-equal republics:
The Socialist Republic of Severyana, with its capital of Stalliongrad!
The Crystal Ponies' Republic, with its capital of Crystal City!
The United Republic of Tzinacatlia, with its capital of Baltimare!
The Socialist Republic of Mixieland, with its capital of Rocksville!
The Thestral Autonomous Republic, with its capital of Ayacachtli!
The Eastern Republic, with its capital of Manehatten!
And finally, the Central Ponies' Republic with its capital of Tall Tale!
Rest assured, this division is simply for administrative purposes. Regardless of location, all citizens will be first and foremost citizens of the Union, with all the rights that entails. The Supreme Council will maintain authority and will still reside in Manehatten for the time being.
In the coming days, maps with the exact boundaries of each republic will be distributed. In the coming months, elections for the councils of each republic will be conducted.
With this action, more power will be given to regional governments, who are best suited to tackle regional issues. This is the next of the revolution comrades, a testament to how far we have come. A decade before, the ponies of this continent were divided, now we have united into a union of equals standing beside comrades of all species. The regions are now able to rule autonomously, without the need for central guidance.
To mark this momentous occasion, the Supreme Council has voted to abandon the old calendar. We of a free Equestria refuse to have a calendar defined by the old regime. Tomorrow will not be January first, 1019 but the first day of year 0 of the Revolutionary Calendar!
Each January 1st shall not only be New Years but also Union day, a new national holiday.
Glory to Marksism, glory to all Ponies, and eternal glory to the Union!
We have proved our rightness comrades! Our time has come!"
With the closing of the speech, the national anthem plays.
Cheers ring out from the soldiers, but it is not absolute. Many are still contemplating the words spoken by the Premier. Still, in the spirit of new years more than anything else, the party more or less continues.
One table in the back is wholly silent. It seats three earth ponies: they’re relatively young- teenagers when the war began.
One of the ponies, with light brown fur and circular rimmed glasses, breaks the silence.
“New year system huh? The Daily Worker was talking about that; it was something of a debate in the Supreme Council.”
“Oh stop, Ples. I know you just love this new… thing.”
The bigger earth pony with dark gray fur chimes in.
“Wha- What do you mean Anya?”
“Before the war, you said you wanted to abolish the year system.”
“W-well I just thought it strange that it was defined by a national tragedy, I just thought another system would put more of a… positive spin on things.”
“Tha-that’s beside the point, I know you were a Communist before all this.”
“Th-I- I keep telling you, I was a Republican, those two aren’t the same thing.” The weary soldier sighs at having to clear up that surprisingly common misconception.
“What are you now?”
"I-I…"
Pleasant looks down at his drink. The war had not given him much time to think.
“I- I’m willing to give this government a chance. It won the war at least.”
Anya snorts. “Then I’ll say this while the Commissar isn’t here: first thing I’m doing is finding is a way to New Mareland.”
“Everyone kept saying that till they figured out they can’t. Why not try to make things better here? Sinister even dropped the whole “false/deceitful goddesses” rhetoric, which must have been hard for him…”
“Both of you are going to be arrested.”
The third member on the table finally decides to join. He’s a thinner stallion, deep blue fur and deeper blue eyes. Before the others can respond, he takes a long drink, trying to empty the beer mug.
Pleasant doesn’t care.
“You know I can’t get arrested for insulting the Premier. The Commissar will just glare at me.”
Pleasant points at Anya.
“She’s the one who's going to get arrested.”
Anya scowls at Pleasant. She takes a quick swig before responding:
“The Severyanans are going to change everything, they admit it. You two should be more worried. I have to worry about the family farm, who knows when they can just take that away.”
“Sinister promised small farmers they could keep their land.”
“They took land away after their revolution, who knows when they can do it again.”
“Anya please, I’m worried.” Pleasant speaks in a dead serious tone, usually only reserved for combat.
“...”
“Waves, tell her you're worried too.”
The pony, who had long finished his beer, looks at the stubborn mare.
“Anya, I’m worried. Don’t commit crimes.”
“That was convincing,” His companions say while rolling their eyes.
Waves shrugs. “Doesn’t make it not true.”
Anya, rolling her eyes one last time, concedes. “I won’t do anything till the country’s rebuilt. It’s still my home no matter who’s in charge,”
She glares at her two friends.
“Happy comrades?”
Waves smiles.
“I’m glad you're acclimating to our new repub- I mean Union well.”
Waves raises his empty mug.
“Cheers to the Union.”
“Fuck you.”
Regardless, both Pleasant and Anya raise their mugs.
“Cheers to the Union!” the trio shouts, each half sarcastic, half hopeful.
…
Year 0, January 1st, Mareposa.
The party is done. Merely an hour before sunrise, two ponies are dragging their friend's front legs to the barracks. The town is dimly lit and empty, other than, of course, any soldiers stupid enough to stay out this late.
“Pleasant got carried away again huh…”
“Last time I’m drinking with him, that’s for sure.”
The two share a laugh. The air is frigid, with breaths turning to humes of smoke. Still, it’s far from the worst any of the three have experienced.
“Hey, Waves, you never told us, what are you doing after this? Ples is going to find his way into a college, but what about you?”
“I’m going to be a father.”
Anya stumbles, almost tripping.
Waves is surprised.
“Careful there.”
Anya looks at Waves as if he had grown a second head while she wasn’t looking.
“H-how? When? Wha-”
“Before we were deployed against the Polar Bears, Eva and I submitted marriage papers and spent some time together.”
“Eva? The Severyanan Engineer? I knew you were an item but this?”
“I survived the Great War, that was my promise to her.”
“What didn’t yo-”
“Never came up.”
Anya is disappointed but not surprised. This is typical Waves behavior. She opts to just be a good friend.
“Congratulations. Any idea when the child is coming?”
“Should be around today actually…”
Anya sighs in true disbelief.
“I truly promise that there was no occasion to bring it up.”
“You’re turning into a city pony just like her, never telling anyone about anything.”
“Eva’s nice and she isn’t even from the city, she just studied in Stalliongrad.”
“Fine. So, any idea where you’re going or doing?”
Waves shrugs.
“Engineers are needed all around the country, Eva will probably be the breadwinner while I raise the kid and maybe find some part time job.”
“No idea at all?”
“Might not be in Equestria, might be the Crystal lands or Severyana, or even Nova Griffonia, Yak land, Ole-”
Anya lets out her heaviest sigh yet.
“The world’s going insane these days… Well, wherever you end up, write, my address will be the same, unless Sinister changes that too.”
“Don’t say that, it isn’t time for goodbyes.”
By Waves standards, those words sound sincere. Anya almost smiles.
“Sure, sure. Let’s get back quickly.”
…
In a literal sense they were right. They will make it back to the barracks and see each other again, with hangovers, the next day.
Within the next two weeks, they will have made it back to their hometown. From there, the three friends will go their separate ways. That point is truly the time for goodbyes as the three will never see each other again.
In a more poetic sense, however, especially for people like Anya, January 1st of year 0 is a time for goodbyes. For Equestrians who grew up before the war, that day was the last of any Equestria they recognized.
Outside Sunset, Commonwealth of New Mareland, 1019 ALB, January 7th.
River Swirl was not a happy mare.
She had come to New Mareland in haste to represent the River Federation. She would have preferred to resolve domestic issues, but the world situation was dire.
Harmony had prevailed in the Riverlands, Hindia, and even North Zebrica. But Equestria had fallen to Communists and the resurgent Empire had triumphed over the Entente.
It had been believed by some, before the madness, that Harmony would inevitably triumph.
Recent history had proved that false.
So, little more than one year ago, Queen Skytar had addressed the Arisian Parliament, requesting that the body push for a military coalition of free nations. It had been seen as naive, but the new Queen pushed on. Now, across the sea, the idea was close to reality. Hope had swelled in River Swirl when she first heard the list of nations attending: All nations within the North Zebrican union, Kasa, Hindia, and even Macawia.
River Swirl arrived at Sunset 12 days ago, to a less than happy reception. She expected much from New Mareland, but sadly, expectations were not met. As she entered the city, she saw protests against the proposed coalition. “Let the Riverlands Fight Its Own War”, “Neutrality for New Mareland”, and even “Down with Alicorn rule”. When she exited the car, one protester had thrown a rotten tomato at her, narrowly missing her face.
Jet Set had met her at her hotel and had assured her the protesters were a minority, though he'd also admitted New Marelanders weren’t completely sold on the Coalition.
The next day, the representatives and heads of state had met in a cramped conference room. Princess Celestia had been absent, something about an experiment.
The first topic, of course, had been the Empire. River Swirl had expected Celestia to run the conference, but in her absence it’d been River Swirl who took the lead.
The following was the result of one of the most intensive information gathering campaigns in history. Spearheaded by the OHS and various Equestrian/New Mareland agencies, the Empire’s ambitions had been made clear. Troop estimates, industrial capacity, weapons development, air force size, all were laid bare to the delegates. If half of it was accurate, it was clear the Empire was not headed towards peace.
In particular, the Empire had started the largest naval buildup in world history. An aircraft carrier every three months, a cruiser every 2 weeks, and a destroyer or submarine every week. Combined with the fortification of islands it seized from the Karithianian Empire, it was clear the Empire’s ambition lied not only in Griffonia.
With that done, the final plan was unveiled:
A defensive pact between all signing nations.
Technology and intelligence sharing schemes.
Military modernization aid.
Joint land, sea, and air command.
All of this done under a new supranational organization, the “Coalition of the Free”
River Swirl knew it had been an overzealous plan; but in politics, it was better to aim high.
When she had finished her speech, the problems began.
11 days later, none had been solved.
The Macawian representatives outright rejected the idea of a defensive pact. They insisted on an open pledge of “mutual assistance”, whatever that meant.
Many representatives from Zebrica were more worried about internal Leftist threats than the Empire. The fall of Equestrian business had hit many hard. They wanted the alliance to also guarantee against internal threats.
The Kasan representative was radical, stating that the Coalition’s goal should be to liberate peoples across the globe.
Hindia’s leader, Ivar Hoeversholm had been among the world leaders present at the conference and he… rubbed River Swirl the wrong way. Was it his disrespect of Princess Celestia, someone not even at the conference? Was it his clear narcissism? Was it his natural ability to antagonize the other delegates? Whatever it was, Ivar was, beyond a doubt, the most insufferable politician River Swirl has ever met.
Debates with Nova Whirl seemed like a nostalgic dream in comparison…
At the very least, Hoeversholm was supportive of a defensive pact. However, he opposed joint military command and even opposed some aspects of the intelligence sharing scheme.
But even his unpleasantness was not the worst thing about the conference.
Front and center to all delegates was the River Federation's occupation of Hellquill and half the Evi valley. It was the most difficult decision River Swirl ever made, but occupying the land east of the Evi river gave the Federation a far, far better position against the Empire.
To many, it seemed the likeliest place for war to break out. Even many of those who supported the Coalition wanted the occupation to end. River Swirl explained it was only with a coalition that the Federation could negotiate on equal footing, that conceding to the Empire would only make it more powerful.
The delegates had been skeptical.
“Miss Chancellor, we’re here.”
River Swirl jolted, having not realized how much time had passed. She hastily opened the car door and almost stumbled out of the vehicle.
In front of her was a fine, stately palace, built in the Canterlotian style with tall towers and curved tops. Lining the path leading up to the gate were rows of guards, still wearing old royal guard armor but carrying the latest automatic rifles. It was a jarring sight to say the least.
Before long, the gate to the palace was opened. A… unfamiliar pony stepped out. He was an old unicorn with pale brown fur and a neat white mane. His attire was nothing special, just a plain business suit typical in New Mareland.
“Chancellor River Swirl, I apologize that Princess Celestia could not meet you right now, there was an unexpected call you see.”
“I understand… and you are?”
“Ah well, my name is Water Wynn. I’m the head representative of the Royal advisory council.”
River Swirl cursed herself. The advisory council had been officially assembled less than a month ago, something of an Equestrian parliament. Of course, with the Equestrian government in exile, it had not made too many waves. River Swirl had known of it, but other things had prevented her from learning the specifics.
“I apologize for not learning sooner, when will Princess Celestia be available?”
“She should be finishing up quite soon, let us go to her study and check.”
Wynn led River Swirl through the palace. The interior was just like the exterior, regal white lined with purple and gold. It made River Swirl nostalgic of her time as a student in Canterlot.
She also noticed, however, that the palace was remarkably silent. Compared to the royal palace in Canterlot, there were very few ponies going about their business. River Swirl had only been to the old palace for a few occasions, but she always remembered it to be a lively place.
This isn’t Canterlot. River Swirl reminded herself of that fact. Instead of being in the center of Equestrian civilization, this palace was in the New Mareland countryside. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Eventually, representative Wynn and River Swirl made their way up the main tower. They stopped at the door. Wynn gently knocked on the door only to be met with an awkward pause.
“Come in,” said the voice on the other side. River Swirl recognized it, barely.
Wynn opened the door and awkwardly stepped in.
The room was a grand library, walls enveloped by shelves filled with books and scrolls of all shapes and sizes. There were grand windows allowing for natural light to illuminate the space. Standing in the center of it all was Princess Celestia. She had not changed one bit since River Swirl last saw her. Taller than any other pony, the Alicorn stood as dignified as ever, with lustrous white fur and a beautiful multi-colored mane. Her eyes spoke to a reign of wise rule, intelligent but also empathetic.
Wynn bowed and River Swirl followed.
“Please, Chancellor, there is no need.”
River Swirl raised her head to the monarch smiling. It was not her usual dignified smile but something much softer. It eased River Swirl’s nerves more than anything.
“Head Representative Wynn, could me and the Chancellor have a private conversation?”
“Of course, your majesty.”
The old stallion bowed slightly before exiting the study.
The two ponies left did not speak for some time. River Swirl expected Celestia to lead. Sure enough, the Alicorn spoke first.
“River Swirl, you’ve done well. I apologize if this sounds condescending, but I’m proud of you.”
The Chancellor was taken aback by this statement. Surely, Celestia knew how badly the conference was going?
“N-not at all your majesty, but I have to disagree. The conference is-”
“No, no one expected it to be easy. You’ve made the best case for a coalition you could, you made sure the conference stayed on task, and in other respects you have done wonderfully.”
“Your majesty?”
“The Riverlands are united because of you. Hellquill and its horrible plague have been vanquished. This conference would not have the same weight to it without you attending. River Swirl, you’re more than worthy of leading this conference.”
Celestia’s warm smile and words made River Swirl’s heart melt, but the doubt didn’t go away.
“Thank you, truly, your majesty… but you could have done it better. You should have led the conference.”
Celestia looked surprised.
River Swirl looked away from her own teacher. She normally wouldn’t do this but meeting her old teacher for the first time in years had made her more emotional.
To River Swirl’s surprise, she heard a light chuckle a few moments later.
“Would that be appropriate? I’m barely a world leader at this point. Even if I attended, you still would have taken the lead.”
River Swirl was shocked at Celestia’s words. She turned to Celestia, looking at the Alicorn with frantic eyes.
“Your majesty, I assure that no one, not a single soul at the conference, recognizes that Communist abomination! To everyone who believes in harmony, you’re still the ruler of Equestria.”
“Thank you, but still-”
“You don’t understand!” River Swirl surprised even herself with her tone. “...Millions, so many before this madness, looked to Equestria.”
The normally calm politician was losing herself, but she didn’t care.
“That land was the hope for the entire world. For creatures living under tyranny or inequality, Equestria showed that all could prosper. It lives on in me and in countless hearts. No one, not even you, your majesty, can say Equestria is lost!”
River Swirl was almost out of breath.
“People across the world still look to you for guidance. I’m imploring you please, please lead this conference, there is simply no one better for the th… job…”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“I understand you, but I would like to politely disagree.”
“Yo-”
As if to cut the chancellor off, Celestia shook her head.
Then, Celestia turned to a bookshelf, using magic to levitate a book in front of River Swirl.
“Think of this as my last lesson. River Swirl, what is the point of this book?”
It was an old dusty book titled General History of Equestria Through the 8th Century. It seemed like nothing special to River Swirl.
“The ideal of all historians is to create an accurate retelling of the past.”
“Why do we use books to hold the past?”
“Written records are generally more reliable than oral history, it doesn’t rely on faulty memory.”
“Yes… because people forget so easily.”
At that moment, River Swirl saw in Celestia’s eyes something surprisingly rare for the monarch, reminiscence. To River Swirl, Celestia seemed to always prioritize the present. Now, it was different.
“I’ve lived for a long time. I’ve witnessed events no pony alive today can remember. What I thought was monumental in one generation was forgotten by the next. Glory, defeat, prosperity, poverty - if gone, all can be forgotten. Without something tangible to remind us, the past is just the past.”
Celestia sighed.
“There are many alive today who will remember what Equestria was. But after they are gone, each proceeding generation will sail further and further from that beacon. The ideal of Equestria will disappear.”
Finally, Celestia turned to River Swirl. Before, the princess seemed sad but now, there was only hope in her eyes.
“That’s why now, I ask you as your old teacher and friend, to create a new ideal.
Proudly lead the harmonic nations of the world, bind them together so that none will face threats alone. Become to the world what Equestria was. Never let the creatures of this world forget what Harmony means.”
Celestia was confident, that was plain to see. River Swirl wondered how she did it.
“May I ask this of you, Chancellor?”
“...”
The unicorn, now silent, still doubted her ability to accomplish what Celestia hoped for.
The free nations of the world had little in common; all were far apart nations with limited contact with each other. Most of them were new to democracy, some had been ruled by despots only a few years ago. Fragile nations only bound by ideals- it was not a good combination. Against the ruthless despots in the Empire or the Union, River Swirl doubted their chances.
But in her long years of governance, River Swirl knew that even an ill-founded hope was powerful. If there was the tiniest chance for a grand alliance to form, River Swirl would take it.
“Yes, thank you Princess Celestia.”
… … …
Right after that touching moment, River Swirl will be handed a file by Princess Celestia. It will contain the reason why Celestia had not attended, for the weapon New Mareland had developed will change the world.
In the short term, the revelation will light a fire under Chancellor River Swirl. By the end of the year the Coalition of Free will be formed.
It will be in a somewhat compromised state. There will be a pact of mutual defense but with exceptions for Macawia and no guarantees against internal threats, joint naval command but nothing else, and a modernization scheme mostly funded by the River Federation and Aris. Furthermore, after its ratification, there will be a slew of conveniently timed economic aid packages to the more difficult members. Opposition parties the world over will call this bribery.
But no matter how it happens, powered by the ideals of Harmony, the third pillar of the century will be formed.
Woodsville, Central Ponies Republic, SUE, Year 0, October 14th.
“Mr. Canyon, what does “prefabricated” mean?”
Block lets out a quiet sigh. He tries to not be judgemental but frankly, he does not want to be here.
He tries to give a simple enough response.
“Prefabricated means much of the pieces of the building will be made in a factory then assembled on site. This is done as a cost saving measure.”
In what had been before the war a secondary school gym, a sort of town hall meeting is being held. On the stage is a long table seating four ponies. Facing them are a few hundred residents of Woodsville, concerned about the new housing being built in their ruined city.
Block’s co-head engineer, Nikolai Anosov, finds the need to chime in.
“Ah, to the comrade who said that, remember to use “comrade” in your speech instead of “Mr” - that’s old language!”
“Uh- sure comrade.”
“Thank you for your understanding!”
The three others on the table are slightly ticked at this exchange. Even the other Severyanan, military governor Katya Ironstead, is frustrated. That had been one of the many times Anosov interrupted over “revolutionary ideals”, always in that chipper tone as well…
Chairpony of the local council, Marebury Hoofer, awkwardly chooses to continue.
“...Thank you, comrade Anosov. Now, the H-5 apartments are not the only buildings under construction. Accompanying them, will be a community center, a kindergarten, a primary school, a clinic, and various other amenities. Could everypony here turn to page 4 of the provided pamphlet?”
The Woodsville citizens open their provided pamphlet for the first time in the meeting, with some ponies peeking over at their neighbor if they don’t have a copy.
“What you are seeing is the map of new developments on the west side of the city. As you can see, along with the new commercial area the residential areas will be organized into three residential districts. For families, everything they need will be a short 15-minute trot away. In addition-”
At that point, Block’s mind starts to drift. He’s lived for half a century and still despises interacting with the public. He is always a pony with much to do and not enough time to do it. Simply put, Block doesn’t need to be here, just Nikolai would have been fine. The younger stallion is… annoying sometimes, but a good engineer - he can answer any questions the public have. But alas, the local council had called for both lead engineers.
Somewhat curious, somewhat bored, Block looks at the crowd. Most are listening to Hoofer while others are flipping through the pamphlet, looking through floor plans and the list of provided appliances. They seem satisfied enough with the plans. The apartments would only provide the bare essentials for life, they would be small, especially the kitchen, but to ponies who mostly lived in makeshift barracks, they would be enough. However, Block notices that a few ponies grimace when they look at the last page- an illustration of the new apartments.
Block had seen completed versions of H-5’s back east, they had not been a pretty sight. All ponies liked ornamentation, even Severyanans, and the new apartments would not provide any. Simply, even in propaganda, they appeared to be concrete boxes with windows.
Block doesn’t mind this fact too much and he couldn’t imagine most ponies would either. The war had devastated Equestria after all, even an ugly house is better than nothing.
“-by that time. Comrades Anosov and Canyon, any comments?”
Having been asked by the Chairpony herself, Nikolai speaks first.
“Fellow ponies, this is the first step to create a true workers’ paradise in Equestria! Now, ponies will be bound together with a sense of community. The excesses of the old regime will be swept aside for pure functionalism, a testament to-”
He continues for quite a while.
Finally, Hoofer turns to Block.
“And comrade Canyon?”
Block looks at the assembled crowd.
“We expect both noise and heat insulation to be quite poor. Please bear with it as the nation is still recovering.”
“…”
“Thank you. General Ironstead, I believe you have an important announcement.”
The normally stern general is a little disorientated by the rapid change in subject but quickly recovers.
“Ah, thank you Chairwomen Hoofer. As you all know, martial law is expected to end by December. This means- ”
Just like that, the meeting continues.
… … …
This day is the worst. Or, at least, that's what Block will tell you if you asked him right now.
The meeting had ended, taking far longer than it needed to. Then, after fleeing to the construction site to get work done, Block had been hit with devastating news.
In a bizarre mess of bureaucracy, the Ministry of Construction, Block’s employer, shares vehicles with the military. So, 3 hours ago, a lieutenant had told Block that his vehicle had to be used for another purpose. Block and Nikolai had been told to take the next train to Tall Tale after work ended.
Unfortunately, with Tall Tale being the new capital of the biggest Union Republic, tickets to the city at reasonable times had been sold out.
Now, it’s after working hours and Block is stranded in Woodsville. The security hadn’t even let him stay in his onsite office.
Block and Nikolai had been able to buy tickets for the 9:00 PM train - coming 2 hours from now.
Block is still with Nikolai, walking through the ruined city together. Though Block had always driven back to Tall Tale right after security kicked him from the office, Nikolai had stayed in the city for longer more than once. As a result, the Severyanan knows the city better than Block. Crucially, this means Nikolai knows the few establishments that are still open. It is getting cold and a place to rest seemed divine to Block.
It isn’t ideal, and it is a waste of money to eat at a restaurant rather than a canteen, but Block would take anything at this point.
“Comrade Anosov!”
Block looks across the street to a group of foals waving in their direction.
Nikolai waves back.
“Everyone, it’s been too long!”
Ever chipper, Nikolai runs over to the children. Block only stands from a distance, watching as his colleague happily chats with the youngins. Block thinks this is strange, afterall, Equestrians are suspicious of Severyanans, even the friendly ones. Though, children are more open to newcomers. Afterall, judging by the children’s ages, they could not have been more than a few years old when Equestria fell.
Soon after, Nikolai bids the group of foals goodbye and ran up to Block.
“Let’s go, comrade!”
“Huh, ok.”
As the two continue to walk, Block, prompted by curiosity, does something he had never done before: ask a colleague a personal question.
“So, Anosov, how do you know those kids?”
“I taught them some of my old Hoofball tricks during my lunch breaks and days off.”
“Hmm, aren’t children annoying?”
Nikolai chuckles at the older stallion’s remark.
“That’s very you, comrade, but I quite like children. They’re so happy and open. Adults can be so closed off sometimes.”
“I suppose…”
Nikolai chuckles again. Then, as his laughter fades, a complicated expression comes across his face. He takes a moment before speaking.
“You know, teaching was my first passion.”
“Really? What changed?”
The Severyanan, instead of answering, trots faster and Block speeds up to follow him.
After a long while, Nikolai, still smiling, begins talking.
“The government was pushing engineering a lot when I was in secondary. Severyana needed engineers more than they needed teachers.”
Nikolai starts rubbing the back of his head.
“My math marks weren’t high, but I guess I was eager to serve the revolution and all.”
“Do yo-”
“Regret it?”
The white furred stallion, who had seemed to Block to have no doubts at all, merely shrugged.
“I think I would have been a better teacher than engineer, but I was able to be a lot more useful to the war effort. So overall…”
Nikolai looks to the sky. Again, he takes a long, good moment before speaking.
“I don’t regret it all”
Then, without a word, Nikolai starts walking again.
…
The bar had been closed on that particular day. As a sort of consolation prize, the two ponies are smoking outside the train station. Cigarettes are hard to come by - production had been slow to recover due to the government deeming it a luxury good. Block can’t disagree with that assessment, but it still annoys him.
Block had had a total of two cigarettes left and he’d felt bad leaving Nikolai with nothing. So, at last, the cigs he had paid an unreasonable amount for are gone.
Block takes far longer than Nikolai to finish his cigarette, enjoying every last hume. After it's gone, Block looks to the ground; he solemnly watches as the last few embers flicker and go out.
After a moment of silence, Block takes a heavy sigh.
Soon, he notices Nikolai is looking at him with a perplexed expression.
“That’s the most emotion I’ve seen out of you…”
Block scowls at the offensive remark.
“Smoking is one of the few joys I have.”
“You should stop.”
“Wh- you smoke too!”
Nikolai sheepishly scratched the back of his head.
“I only picked up the habit during the war, I’m going to stop. Besides, didn’t you read that article in the Daily Worker? About the health effects of prolonged smoking?”
Block scoffs, thoroughly unconvinced.
“I never read that rag and I wouldn’t stop even if it turned me into a bug.”
At that, Nikolai weakly sighs and mumbles something about not using the term “bug”. Block ignores what the younger pony has to say and drifts in his own thoughts, leading inevitably to the project:
It’s going well. The hardest part had been clearing the ruins and building new infrastructure but that’d been completed only a bit past schedule. The buildings themselves would be quick work now that the foundations were laid. The H-5 apartments could be assembled in just 3 weeks, with some additional time given for other buildings and to make the interiors livable.
Despite the workload being put on him, it’s one of the smoother projects he worked on. Materials had been delivered on time, people had been available, and arguments with the local government had been minimal. It’s quite useful to have the backing of a central government.
Not that there aren't any problems: Block isn't a planner, but even he can tell building three new residential districts is excessive for a medium sized city like Woodsville, especially when the city center is being renovated.
Perhaps it had to do with the furniture factories being built - a lot of ponies moving in would need housing. That would make the most sense: new housing all across the country needed furniture and light industry had been severely neglected during the war. Still, that means a lot of workers would be brought in, Woodsville will have to change significantly.
Many Equestrians grumble about this kind of thing. They say that the new regime is changing too much too fast. To Block, it just seemed business like usual:
His family had lived Rocksville before the Gemstone Rush; growing up, Block had heard countless complaints from his grandfather about how different Rocksville had become: too big, too many people and the like. Modernity seems to do that kind of thing - leaving people behind.
Block notices, finally, that Nikolai is tapping his shoulder. He turns to face his co-worker.
“Say… comrade Canyon, what do you think of the ah- the government?”
Block’s surprised by the sudden question, both with how sudden it came and with how straightforward it is. He eyes his co-worker with suspicion. Was Nikolai perhaps a very incompetent agent from Internal Affairs?
The Severyanan seems to realize how his question sounded:
“Ah, this is just personal, I won’t tell anyone what you say. I’m just curious.”
The words don’t clear any suspicion but to Block, Nikolai seems nothing if not genuine. The usually cynical Equestrian decides to take a chance.
“What if I said I was a terrorist plotting the return of Queen Celestia.”
Nikolai looks horrified.
“Please don’t joke about that…”
“And people tell me I don’t have a sense of humor…”
Block grumbles, racking the little part of his brain not focused on work.
“I don’t.”
“What?”
“I don’t think about the government much at all.” Block says, more confident this time.
Nikolai still seems confused.
“Look, Anosov, I’ll tell you this because the government already knows: I’m not a Communist.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Hmm, Nikolai seems to take the news well.
“But I’m not planning on rebelling anytime soon. You know why?”
Nikolai doesn’t answer.
“I have enough to eat, I generally get to do what I want, and I think the reconstruction effort is going well. Most ponies are like that, I think.”
"Like what?"
Block shrugs. "It's hard to say, I'm not the political one here but just… you know, most ponies just want to live their lives, they aren't loyal to ideas."
"..."
Block looks at his co-worker after a moment of silence. Nikolai looks a little troubled. Eventually, however, his expression softens.
“That makes sense. But comrade…”
Nikolai hesitantly looks Block in the eye.
“... are you sure you don’t hate the new government?”
“What brought this on!?”
Nikolai takes a step back, he’s quite startled by Block’s outburst.
“D-don’t be mad, you just called the “Daily Worker” a rag and the-”
“All newspapers are rags no matter what, a bunch of nonsense every week. Besides, I’ve heard Severyanans complain about that paper as well.” Block is thoroughly confused at this point. At most, he acts like the typical Equestrian: slightly miffed but ultimately complacent. There isn’t a reason for Nikolai to suspect him of treason… unless.
“Yeah, yes… I suppose that’s true.” Nikolai says, almost defeated. He slumps, looking away from Block.
“It’s just… I feel like you have a good reason… you know.”
What!? Nikolai questioning the government? Wh-what’s going on?
“What do you mean by that?” asks Block, worrying that his coworker isn’t well today.
He was fine at the meeting and at the site though…
“You… you should be the sole Head Engineer.”
“W-what are you talking about?”
Nikolai turns away from Block, his expression dark.
“You pretty are one already: you manage everything anyway and I do the same work I did before my promotion...”
Block had never seen Nikolai like this. The older stallion is shocked, unsure how to handle the situation.
Nikolai’s words were true, Block had been the one managing and leading the project. Nikolai had effectively acted in a subordinate role, though he’d performed well in it. Most of the time, it’d been Block who made the final decision, with Nikolai there to sign some papers.
“... It’s not right. The government doesn’t fully trust Equestrians… they’re our partners, not counterrevolutionaries…”
Nikolai seems to be talking to himself at this point - perhaps this had been on his mind for a while.
Block pats Nikolai on the shoulder, awkwardly consoling his junior.
“Relax, give our government the benefit of the doubt. It’s probably just because I’m a defector.
Block doesn’t really believe the words he’s saying. On the local level, Severyanans rely on Equestrians out of practicality, some places run themselves without a Severyanan in sight. However, the higher up you went and the more important the job, it’s clear Severyanans didn’t fully trust the average Equestrian. Block had heard many complaints from other Equestrians about Severyanans viewing them with suspicion. At least some of them had to be real. Still, it was better to lie in this case.
Nikolai perks up at Block’s words.
“A what?”
Huh, does Nikolai not know?
“A defector. I fled to Puerto Caballo back during the inva- back in 1012. Came back in 1013 through the Dragon isles and some smugglers - hell of a trip.”
Nikolai’s expression doesn’t lighten; if anything, he seems angrier.
“Then that’s more reas-”
Block raises his hoof to stop the younger pony.
“Again, I’m not a communist. I came back for my home, nothing else. Moreover, some defectors turned out to be spies.”
Block chuckles to himself. This disturbs Nikolai.
“We’re a risk, plain and simple. It’s a miracle I got this job.”
Nikolai sighs, not used to Block’s sense of humor: he still looks troubled, uncharacteristically unsure.
Feeling somewhat guilty, Block tries one more time to cheer up Nikolai:
“Don’t worry, Equestrians are most of the population, so it’ll work out eventually.”
“So, it's true what they say about Rocksville residents…”
It didn’t work.
“... that was uncalled for.”
Nikolai finally smiles again, laughing at Block’s expression. Block rolls his eyes, but he’s relieved that the usual Nikolai’s back - easier to deal with that way.
“Do you really think things will get better, comrade?”
Nikolai asks Block with a cheerful, yet somber smile.
“Don’t you communists think every pony's going to be equal eventually? All living in peace and doing nothing all day? Maybe I’ll believe that too.”
“Not exactly… but that would be nice.” Nikolai laughs at his own words.
Block almost smiles.
“Don’t say that we will still have a job to do.”
“I suppose… are you sure you’re not bothered by it comrade?”
Block shrugs.
“I worked for the government long before this, politics in my career is nothing new. Don’t be bothered by it, just watch and learn how I do things.”
“... thank you, comrade.”
Block, mood improved, decides to humor him.
“You’re welcome comrade.”
The project will come to a close in the following months.
Woodsville will become a much larger city in the coming years. A city that had seen intense fighting during the Great War will recover to its prewar height and then greatly exceed it. A hub of the lumber industry prewar, Woodsville will soon see new factories open, supplying the rest of the Union with furniture and various wooden products.
From the old city center will radiate out dozens of residential districts, linked to the factories and the center by trolleybus. All around, a typical story, found all around Equus.
Ponies like Block will shrug at the bare buildings and layout and say it’s only practical. Ponies like Nikolai will tear up as they walk through the city, calling it a model of Socialist progress. Most importantly, for ponies like the foals Nikolai had played Hoofball with, it'll be where they grow up, mature, and long for in their later years.
Outside Tenochtitlan, U.R of Tzinacatlia, SUE, March 16th, Year 1.
“Stop, military police! We have you in our sights!”
Indeed, they do. Eight ponies aim their rifles at three others. The soldiers are blended into the jungle, while the 3 others are standing in a new clearing, made for the new railroad.
The three look like tribals, earth ponies dressed in their loincloths and cloaks, wearing makeup on their faces. Two wear helmets - recovered Changeling ones. They don’t look like they carry guns, one of them has a huge mallet, one a bow, and another a spear. They’re shocked and scared, unsure of what to do.
“You have been caught conducting sabotage on Union property. We are not internal affairs and you will be given clemency if you lay down your arms and surrender! We promise none of you will be harmed!”
Captain Endless Glow isn’t sure if they actually understand what he’s saying. Dialects of the tribals’ language vary wildly across the Southeast. Many are similar to Ayacachtlian, which is what Endless had been speaking, but the further from the mountains you go, the dialects become more and more distant.
The tribals didn’t move. Is it the shock, or could they not understand him?
Again, he barks his demands but in standard Ponish.
This isn’t Tenochtitlan, where most tribals are conservational in the main tongue, but it is worth a shot.
Luckily, after a moment, the tribals get the message, dropping their weapons in fear. They raise their hooves in the air, standing on their hind legs. The captain is beyond relieved.
Good, they aren’t stupid.
First, he needed to check something.
“Which language is better for you!?”
After a moment of confusion, one tribal shouts back:
“The first one!”
“Ok, I’m coming over, stay where you are.”
Endless signals for two members of his squad to follow. He also signals the squad’s sharpshooter to have his sights raised, just in case.
The three ponies emerge from the jungle. Clad in dark green camo, they are suited for the jungle. They tuck their AK-17C’s in while pulling out hoof cuffs.
They walk over to the surrendered tribals. Endless collects the three weapons and throws them aside, those will be collected later.
One by one, the tribals are cuffed, placed with their bellies flat on the ground. Endless and his men pat them down making sure they don’t have anything hidden. They're clearly bitter and angry, but don’t resist too much.
Satisfied at secure operation, Endless turns to his men.
“Maple, radio back to headquarters and tell them our location.”
“Yes sir.” The pony trots back into the jungle with the rest of the squad.
Endless turns to the other soldier with him.
“Ribbon, read these tribals their rights.”
The junior corporal grimaces at the prospect.
“But sir, I can’t speak what these ponies speak.”
“You have that pamphlet don’t you? Besides, these tribals won’t know half the words in that thing.”
As the private struggles through the excessively long, poorly translated speech, Endless walks back into cover. Carefully, he makes his way back to his second in command, still perfectly camouflaged behind vines.
“I think it's safe now, Lieutenant.”
Endless hears a sigh before Lieutenant Lily Remnant reveals herself. The unicorn wears more camo makeup than anyone else in the corps, Endless can barely tell she has light pink fur and a blue mane. Like Endless, she’s a veteran of the Southern campaign, having fought the Changelings in the thick of the jungle. A pony with a solid combat record and a party member, she’d been a natural fit for this unit. However, she's …stiff, even by military standards.
“You’re too lax, Captain.” She says gruffly.
“We’re not in the open are we, and look at them,” he points to the captives, “does that look like a professional operation? There's no danger, just some idiots who bust up railways and harass workers.”
Remnant still doesn’t concede.
“Terrorists could be using them as bait, sir.”
“If they did, they would have shot me when I came up, my uniform looks different to the others.”
Endless’s second rubs her temples with her hoof, exasperated by her superior’s statement.
“Which is why I insist on you not revealing yourself, even in these situations… sir.”
“Give me a break, I’m the only one who can talk to them. What if they have a question?”
“Tsk, sir these primitives don’t need words, just need to bark at them until they do as they’re told.”
“Tha- not-” Endless decides to drop the issue. There probably isn’t any way to convince Remnant to act differently. It’s like she’d spent her entire life as a soldier. When they’d first spotted the three saboteurs, she’d suggested just shooting the saboteurs to incapacitate them.
The Thestral captain pulls out a cigarette to take the edge off. A truck’s probably coming to pick up these prisoners, which wouldn’t be for at least 30 minutes considering the roads here. A pony on patrol is more likely to die of boredom here than by guerillas.
Surprisingly, Remnant decides to join Endless, she pulls out her own cigarette and lights it up. Well, that’s reassuring. Endless figures if he can smoke with someone, he can work with them.
“I have to ask, captain; you’re a Southerner, correct?”
Endless doesn’t know where she’s going with this but responds anyway.
“Well, yes, I’m from Ayacachtli. Didn’t you read my file?”
Surely, she knew, she seemed like the type to obsessively read over someone’s history. Hell, she probably knows the birthplaces, professional history, and morning routine of everyone in the regiment.
“That was over a month ago sir. I don’t have the keen memory that you think I do.”
Keen memory? That’s one way to put it.
“Anyways sir, I’m just asking because you might know more about tribals than me,” She takes another whiff, “Tearing up railways - it just doesn’t make sense - why do these primitives do such a thing?”
She’s frustrated; afterall, their unit had been in the jungle for 3 months now, mostly going after tribals trying to tear down new railways heading into Tenochtitlan. It isn’t exciting work, hell, it’s barely necessary. Without explosives, the tribals used tools to leave dents in the railway. The railway workers would find them the next day and quickly fix it up. At most, it’d caused small delays.
Remnant is a logical pony. In Endless’s opinion, too much so.
“You’re from Manehatten right? Things down here don’t change as fast as up north. A lot of ponies here hate change.”
From what Endless had seen, tribal ponies preferred to live like non-sentient animals. Villages with no electricity, thatch roofs, and the like. Well, it is more complicated, some villages, the bigger ones, have more modern tools than the rest - trade goods mostly. Still though, even the biggest tribal settlements are far behind even ancient Ayacachtli.
Endless sighs. He likes tribals he really does; he’d met so many nice ones in Ayacachtli and they’d fought together in the war. However, the Southern tribes are naive. Convinced by their leaders and their culture to live primitively, they did so. Worse, they're willing to fight to protect their backwardness.
“You gotta understand, Lieutenant, these ponies didn’t live under capitalism - not even feudalism, not really. They don't have the class consciousness needed to understand what needs to happen,” Endless threw away his used-up cigarette, “When we give them work, make them productive, then they’ll understand.”
Remnant sighs, still looking glum.
“That won't be for a while. We’ll have to clear this blasted jungle first.”
She’s probably right. The region’s lack of development is a major hurdle, and the jungle leaves little room for industry.
“Chin up Remnant, believe in the revolution! This place will be just like up north before we know it.” A bit overzealous, even to himself, but Endless had seen the progress up north and even in Mixieland. If it can happen there, it can happen here.
Amused, Remnant smiles.
“Sometimes you're more dedicated than me, Captain.”
“I’m a party member too, you know. By the way do you have another cigarette? I’m out.”
Surprisingly, though begrudgingly, Remnant gives him one. She really isn’t a bad pony.
Tenochtitlan, U.R of Tzinacatlia, SUE, March 30th, Year 1
Tenochtitlan is not how it had been before the war. Despite being initially occupied by Severyanan troops in the Great War, it’d been given to the Changelings in the 1012 land swaps. The Neighua tribe had fought back hard and Crystalis had responded tenfold.
The city had long been destroyed by the time SRE soldiers had finally liberated the city. The huts - gone. The floating gardens, reduced to rubble. Pyramid of the Sun? Utterly and completely decimated, not even a stone left. Even the overgrown vegetation had been destroyed; in fact, there was hardly a plant within a 5-mile radius of the city.
It is one of the great tragedies of the war. One of many Changeling acts that convinced Equestrians to accept the new Republic.
In other ways, the destruction presented an opportunity for modernization. The center is now completely remade. Roads are now in grid pattern, paved instead of dirt. However, the buildings still left much to be desired. Most were large wooden dormitories, and some plots were completely empty. Despite the wishes of local officials, some plots are being used to host traditional marketplaces.
The Council of Tzincatlia in Baltimare and the All-Union government had hoped for much out of a “new” Tenochtitlan. However, progress had been much slower than expected.
“Hey boss, what’s taking so…”
Case in point, having barely made it into the city, the car Endless had been driving had been stopped by a huge mob of protesters.
Ugh, what a horrible way to start my vacation- well, leave.
“Junior Corporal Ribbon, properly address your superiors.”
“Oh, hehe sorry ma'am.”
Right next Endless is Lieutenant Remnant, in the jeep’s backseat are junior corporals Ribbon and Spark. All of them are headed to the same spot, so Endless had decided to give them a ride to headquarters.
The protesters in front of them wear a mish mash of tribal and modern clothing. They carry signs fastened from whatever they could find: wood, metal, even plastic. The words read express the same sentiment: “More Autonomy”, “Rebuild the Pyramid”, and “End to Military Control”. They march as a blob in the street perpendicular to Endless’s car.
Remnant snarls at them.
“Three months of doing nothing in the jungle when we should have been here,” She points at the protesters, “reeducating these fuckers.”
She looks angry enough to jump out of the car and at the protesters. Personally, Endless is quite happy with how little action he’d seen. By the time his unit got to the Southeast, organized resistance had seemingly disappeared. Most trouble they ever saw had been lone bands of tribals - no guns and explosives either. Even then, those had been few and far between.
Well, better to leave her be. Not even Remnant is headstrong enough to confront a crowd all by herself.
“Captain, what’s this pyramid the locals keep talking about?”
The question came from junior corporal Spark. He’s a quiet pony, a Pegasus from Bales with dark brown fur and a yellow mane. He’s also bookish, the type of pony who would have demobilized, but for whatever reason, didn't.
“What, Spark you don’t know? I thought you knew everything.”
The pegasus is quite flustered by the remark.
“P-please just answer the question, sir”
Endless laughs, “Ok, ok, there used to be a big pyramid here where the tribals would worship Princess Celestia - very important to them.”
The pegasus is surprised.
“T-that’s treason then!” He shouts, “We can’t have people suggesting we resurrect monuments to the old regime!”
Endless shrugs. “Well, the tribals claim they just want it back because it's a big part of their history. They promise they won’t worship in it. It might not be a horrible idea, if they follow through.”
Remnant clicks her tongue.
“Fat chance of that happening. You can almost thank Crystalis for destroying the Pyramid for us, that place would have been bound to attract monarchists from all over.”
Everyone else in the car is a little unnerved by that statement.
“You know lieutenant, if there was some part of the Pyramid left, we probably would be trying to restore it by now- like what we’re doing in Canterlot.”
Remnant doesn’t flinch.
“I disagree with that notion, all monuments of the old regime should be torn down.”
“Have you met a pony from the Canterlot? They love their city too much for that. It’ll just cause unnecessary problems. It’s like… I don’t know - do we tear down the Crystaller building because some plutocrat made it.``
Endless hopes the comparison will strike a cord with native Manehattenite. Instead, a proud smile comes across Remnant’s face.
“Last time I was home, I actually organized a petition to completely remodel the building's exterior - would not have looked like the same building, sir.”
“Wh- you go too far Lieutenant. Do you realize how mad some ponies would get? Did the petition even pass?”
Remnant doesn’t respond at first. She just looks out the window to the city around her. After a while she speaks again.
“Well, the vote didn’t pass in the City Council, I have to admit. But don’t you agree with the premise Captain?” She looks Endless in the eye, “Everything about the old regime - it has to go.”
“What are you an internal affairs agent? If I say “everything”, then that’s bad because it shows I don’t carefully read the party line which clearly states that we must carefully examine the social, economic, and historic relations that continue from the old regime and critically examine what aspects can be used to further and bolster the the revolution and what exists to continue pre existing structures of oppression. Furthermore-”
“Good answer sir.” Remnant had cut Endless off. She looks amused. Had she been messing with him?
“Re-”
“Back to the original topic,” She’s now completely serious, “I do understand now in materially developed places like Canterlot or Manehatten, it’s more trouble than it's worth to remove remnants of the old regime. However, in a place so underdeveloped like the Southeast, it’s imperative that we destroy any symbol that ties to the old regime as not doing so will only hold back the region. More social stability in the short term cannot be valued over social and economic development. Do you disagree with this assessment, sir?”
“Well, when you put it like that-”
ZAP.
ZAP ZAP.
ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP ZAP…. These sounds continue.
Endless sighs in relief.
“Finally.”
Spark, who had been languishing in the back, raised his hoof in agreement.
“You said it sir…”
Endless sits patiently as the mass of protesters stops in terror. Then after overcoming their shock, they panic, running in the opposite direction of the laser sounds. As they run, streams of green magical energy zoom overhead. It’s not long after that the passengers of the car can see the end of the crowd. The ponies run, get hit in the back with a light of energy, stop due to the extreme pain, and then get back up and run.
That’s the beauty of the Emerald Gun. It was a crystal powered gun guaranteed to fire only non-lethal bursts of energy. The pain from the blasts is extreme but lasts only for a moment. The perfect crowd control weapon.
Soon after, the MPs firing the gun come into view, still firing at the crowd. They briefly look in Endless’s direction before moving ahead.
Endless rolls down the window and waves at the soldiers as they pass through.
South Tenochtitlan feels like a different world to the rest of the city. There’s a big food processing plant, newly built and then a little down the road is the residential district, filled with austere but modern apartment buildings. Finally, a walking distance from the apartments was the military headquarters for the entire region. A former office building of a now defunct Equestrian trading company, surrounded by rows of sandbags of course.
Captain Endless Glow is now arising from the old building. He had turned in his vehicle, signed his paperwork, and bid his colleagues adieu.
Instead of trotting directly to the train station, Endless goes the other way, towards the residential district. He has something to pick up.
As he walks to the residential district, he sees more and more civilians, food processing plant workers and their families. When they see him, they pause for a bit, barely a second, before saluting him. Endless salutes back, he doesn’t mind the stares. Most of these ponies are from up north, where there aren’t many Thestrals. In addition, Endless knew these ponies didn’t go outside their little community much, so he's probably the only Thestral they’d seen in weeks. As long as they’re trying, Endless is content.
Soon, Endless reaches the residential district. The apartment buildings form a wall around the district, with green space and various buildings in the center. There’s a primary school, secondary school, and crucially, a commercial building:
Most of the building is the state commissary with basic goods but on its side there are a few small businesses. Endless can smell the one he’s going to a mile away. It's a little bakery, doesn’t even have a name, but it’s the only place to get a good apple pie in Tenochtitlan.
Endless opens the custom made curved wooden door. The interior is much like the exterior, lined with brightly colored wooden panels over the base concrete. All in all, it looks like a typical Equestrian bakery. It wasn’t something Endless is nostalgic for, but he’s sure the residents of the district appreciate it.
The owner of the bakery, Fruit Blossom, is an earth pony with yellow fur and a poofy red mane. She looks up from the counter when Block enters and greets the Thestral:
“Hello Captain! Back from the jungle?”
She has a Mixielander accent, though, Endless doesn’t know where she’s from.
“Yeah, just on leave though.”
“Well I did get your letter, let bring me your custom pie.”
The store owner goes into the back to bring out the Captain’s pie, leaving him in the bakery alone. She’s chipper as always, for Endless it's a nice change from the distrustful tribals he met on deployment. Sure she's technically a petite bourgeoisie, but no one could deny the mare worked hard. The store is always spotless, customs commissions are always made on time and all by herself as well. With small business owners like her, Endless hoped full Communism wouldn’t come for a while.
After a bit, Fruit Blossom emerges from the back with a cardboard container. She puts it on the counter.
“Well Captain, that’ll be 5 bits please.”
Urk, that’s pricey.
Well, it’s for his parents and it's a good pie so Endless just pays for it.
“Thanks for your business Captain Glow. What’s the occasion for such a big pie?”
“I forgot to write to my parents for 2 months and their letters wouldn’t get through to me.”
He picks up the pie.
“This is my way of saying sorry.”
“Oh… well good on you. I hope they forgive you.”
Blossom smiles awkwardly at Endless. He just bids her farewell and turns to leave.
Just as he’s about to open the door, he hears a shout from Fruit Blossom.
“Wait! Captain!”
Endless turns to find Blossom looking frantic, eyes wide. She’s breathing hard, as if she’s been hit with a sudden realization. After a long silence, she calms down.
“...”
“...”
“...Th-that might be the wrong pie.”
That-that’s it!?
“Don’t scare me like that…”
“Sorry Captain, let me get you the right one.”
Blossom goes into the back to retrieve the right pie, leaving Endless in his thoughts again.
That was loud… guess she’s just really dedicated.
If Endless Glow had known the truth, he would have arrested her right there and then.
Petershoof, Socialist Republic of Severyana, SUE, February 28th, 1 A.U.
“Ambassador, could you, one more time, repeat your government’s stance on recognition.”
Minister Vasiliy Wheatkin rubs his forehead. Across the dinner table from him is the Riverlander ambassador, Colna Cascade.
The purple furred Riverlander unicorn is as calm as ever. She merely takes a sip of her Deponyan wine before responding, seeming completely unfazed.
“As stated before, the River Federation recognizes the Socialist Republic of Severyana but not the Socialist Union of Equestria. We do not recognize states formed on the basis of military conquest.”
Vasiliy sighs. He drinks from his own wine glass, though it's actually full of Severyanan vodka.
I must be going insane if I keep expecting a different response.
“Ambassador, I don’t really understand how that’ll work. Severyana is a member republic of our Union, it does not have independent diplomacy. You cannot make treaties with it the same way you can’t make treaties with any state within the River Federation.”
Again, the ambassador gives a measured, prompt response.
“I think it’s quite simple, Minister Wheatkin. We will only trade with Severyana and if no treaties are possible, we will simply not sign them.”
The two ponies examine each other, Cascade waiting for Vasiliy’s response. The temporary standoff is eventually broken, Vasiliy averts his attention to the food in front of him, eating his untouched dumplings. The ambassador does the same.
This is not within Vasiliy’s job description. Within the government Vasiliy Wheatkin holds two positions. He is the director of the Economic Planning Commision as well as the Minister of Industry. The second of the two is a peculiar one for there is no Ministry of Industry in the SUE. Instead, the position gives him superior position to ministers of War Industry, Metallurgy, and all ministries that pertain to state enterprises. He is an immensely powerful pony but not the one who's supposed to deal with foreign delegates.
The reason why he’s here is due to his party position: Deputy General Secretary of the All-Union Communist Party. He’s not the Deputy Premier, that would be Strawberry Snowflake, but that’s a mostly ceremonial position. No, in the SUE, the second in command is Vasiliy Wheatkin; that’s why he had taken a train from Manehatten to Petershoof to meet with Cascade.
The consulate of the River Federation is not a particularly large building. It’s one of many brick row houses along Petershoof’s waterfront. One could not imagine it’s actually the main ambassadorial complex from one great power to another. The staff is miniscule, only 8 members, including Cascade. Vasiliy knows them by name at this point.
Vasiliy, though currently frustrated, felt bad for the official eating across from him. Her position can’t be a glamorous one, being sent off to “rogue state” as the foreign press called the SUE. She seems very competent and professional, a waste here.
“Ambassador, could you pass this along to the Chancellor.” Vasiliy breaks the silence between them. Cascade perks up from her plate, still not dropping her poker face.
“Yes Minister, I suppose I could.”
This isn’t going to work.
Vasiliy doesn’t think himself to be very convincing. He never had Karamelka’s charisma or Sinister’s way with words. He’s a bureaucrat at heart, not a politician. If not for decades of political experience, he would still be a shy stuttering mess.
The stallion adjusts his glasses before looking up at the ambassador. This is their fifth time meeting, the fifth awkward dinner. Vasiliy had never been confrontational towards her, hoping the ambassador would come around eventually. However, those attempts didn’t work.
The ambassador is as composed as ever. She had never stuttered, never gave an inch and yet had never been impolite. She was simply an ambassador, nothing more and nothing less. Even her appearance reflected this, a simple suit combined with neatly combed blue mane. Compared to Vasiliy’s messy mane, worn white shirt, old brown sweater vest, and now ill-fitting slacks, Colna Cascade looked like the most put together creature on Faust.
Still, I hope this gets through with her.
“I personally never approved of the invasion of Equestria.”
Cascade looks surprised, unsure how to take the statement.
“Minister I hardly see how this is relev-”
Vasiliy continues.
“I didn’t like our interventions in the North either. Revolution should ideally be born out of a conscientious not force. When we marched south, I was against it. Crystalis was a worse threat than Equestria ever was. We should have fought together, with Equestria, against the Hegemony.”
He takes another sip of his vodka.
“I almost resigned. I had the letter written out but then Sinnie barged into my office with Lunin and Goldie.”
The Minister laughs at the memory.
“They begged me not to and I guess I’m easily pressured. The only reason why I’m not happily retired is because of them - some friends they are.”
Cascade looks more confused than anything - Vasiliy notices.
"Ah- I apologize ambassador, I'm going somewhere with this…
The ambassador gives him a look, Vasiliy can't describe it.
"Sure Minister, continue."
Vasiliy coughs to clear up his throat.
"Anyways, I'm simply a stallion who wants to do good for his fellow ponies. Genuinely, ambassador, our attempts to open our country aren’t lined with malicious intent. We want nothing more than a perfectly normal diplomatic and commercial relationship with the Federation. I promise that our government won’t stray from that goal. Our invasion was regrettable, but we can’t change the past. Even I can't convince my party to reverse the gains made.”
Vasiliy looks at the Cascade with an almost pleading look.
“Please ambassador, there’s been enough blood shed. I don’t want to create the foundations for another conflict. Some mutual recognition would go a long way for peace.”
Cascade looks… unfazed. She’s silent, perhaps weighing her odds, thinking about what to say.
“I will pass this along to the Chancellor.”
She’s angry. Vasiliy can hear it in her voice. She’s as unexpressive as ever but her words are lined with venomous resentment.
Dread comes over Vasiliy, he has failed.
“I see, thank you ambassador…”
"You're welcome, Minister Wheatkin."
The two go back to their food. Silence reigns for a long time.
“Minister, may I be slightly unprofessional for a moment?”
Surprised at the ambassador’s question, Vasiliy can only nod slightly.
The ambassador, as proper as ever, clears up her throat before speaking.
“Minister, though I can’t speak for Chancellor River Swirl, I doubt she’ll recognize the Union anytime soon, despite your pleas. Do you wish to know why?”
Vasiliy sighs at the open acknowledgement.
“Sure ambassador, I won’t hold anything you say against you.”
“We do not trust Premier Sinister in the slightest. We know his foreign policy stance and we know the only reason the Union doesn’t control the Spa Islands and the Dragon Isles is merely due to a lack of naval capability.”
Vasiliy looks up to meet a fiery mare glaring daggers at him. He treads carefully.
“To be frank, ambassador, I knew that already. But I promise I’-”
“-and we don’t trust you.”
Vasiliy pauses. Cascade looks away from the minister, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
“You claim to stand for peace but where was that when your armies marched through nation after nation? Is your personal loyalty to Sinister more important than your morals?”
“I-”
“-You seem to be a good pony, Minister Wheatkin. But you should watch who your friends with and who you work for.”
Colna looks down at her plate, not looking Vasiliy in the eye.
The Minister feels…
…Well, he doesn’t want to describe it.
He gets up from the table.
“Thank you for meeting with me, ambassador. I think I’ll take my leave now.”
Colna doesn’t respond.
Vasiliy walks over to the door, grabbing his coat along the way.
Hoof on the doorknob, the stallion still has one lingering question.
“Ambassador, why did you feel the need to say what you did?”
She doesn’t speak.
Vasiliy turns the knob.
“I-I felt bad for you, Minister Wheatkin.”
That’s surprising.
“... There’s no need. Thank your chef for me, the dumplings were delicious.”
Vasiliy Wheatkin leaves.
Central Petershoof is beautiful. The ancient city hugs its harbor, lining the shore with richly decorated brick houses. It had not changed much since Vasiliy’s university days.
Those had been simpler times: cramming for exams, consuming far too much alcohol, volunteering for relief societies in the slums, and merely dreaming of a revolution.
Then, the revolution had come, and it had only gotten more complicated from there.
Vasiliy sighs, mostly at himself.
He knows better than to complain about inevitabilities.
The struggle is messy. It will only become more so when the scope expands.
Severyana, Equestria, Equus - each one had presented a greater headache. Now, the world is fair game, presenting the greatest headache of all time.
Still, it's cowardice to throw one's hoods up and quit just because it's complicated.
Vasiliy may have been considered a soft stallion when he’d been younger, but the ambition in him had burned brightly and had never died.
He still feels like that stupid 26-year-old: a pony with revolver in hoof, the first to charge loyalist positions. Vasiliy remembers what he said to himself, the words he muttered before he almost died:
I hope all this ends in my lifetime.
In Vasiliy’s mind, as long as capitalism exists there will be strife. Even with social democracy, the plutocrats will take over in time, reversing any protection the proletariat had. The system causes class conflict inherently, that’s why it's doomed to fall.
Even if the Equestrian experiment failed, another would surely take up the mantle, but how many creatures will have to suffer in the meantime? How many bloody revolutions will it take? How many will have to toil away to feed the coppers of plutocrats? How wonderful would it be, however, unlikely, if they get it right the first time?
A world without class struggle, where revolution isn’t necessary. A peaceful world.
That’s why Vasiliy had fought, why he’d stayed with the revolution even when it made mistakes, even when the moral complications had only given him sleepless nights. If one day he sees a new world, a better one, it would have been worth it.
Vasiliy, before he realizes, arrives at his destination:
The Winter Palace, the old residence of Severyana’s Tsars, currently an all-purpose government office building.
He looks at the harbor one last time.
There’s a ship sitting in the water, an Baltimare Class Aircraft Carrier, the UES Albion. It’s new, having entered service only last month. With enough deck space for 50 jet aircraft, a reinforced angled deck, and all the advanced electronics the Union could find, the vessel will be the flagship of the new North Celestial Fleet, a symbol of the Union’s new blue-water navy.
Vasiliy sighs, he greets the guard posted at the entrance to the Winter Palace, his name is Dmitri Bretmane. They chat for a bit about the recent local Hoofball game; then, Vasiliy is let in.
Colna Cascade will leave her position at the consulate shortly after.
Not long after that, the entire consulate will close down completely due to a naval skirmish involving Union and Coalition ships. Relations normalization will be put on hold for the time being.
Vasiliy will only meet the ambassador again nearly 5 years after that tense dinner.
By that time, much will have changed about the world and Vasiliy Wheatkin will only carry more regrets.
Petershoof, Socialist Republic of Severyana, SUE, February 29th, 1 A.U.
Vasiliy feels a hoof gently shaking him awake. He had fallen asleep at his desk, reviewing documents for the South Eastern railway. In truth, he has been awake for quite a while but he doesn’t want to get up.
“Alexei, it’s still dark, let me have a few minutes.”
“Oh, I’m not your secretary, Vasiliy”
The minister jolts up, he recognizes that voice.
Sure enough, standing next to his desk is Karmelka Sladkaya, one of the early leaders of the Winter Revolution. The old mare is still expertly dressed, a fine vermillion coat suit and finely combed, wavy mane. Though advanced in age, that only made her look more dignified.
“Karamelka? How? Wh-”
“Being a respected figure helps in many ways. The guards just let me in.”
Vasiliy groans.
"Well… how can I help you?"
Karamelka laughs.
“Do we always need to talk business? How about some tea?”
She’s going somewhere with this.
“Sure…”
After clearing some papers from the coaches in his office, Minister Wheatkin is sitting across from Karamelka with an old coffee table between them.
On the table is the tea that Karamelka had brewed. Sitting in a kettle with a few tea cups beside it, the tea fills the room with a particular aroma.
“Hindian?” Asks Vasiliy.
Karmelka smiles.
“Yes, Doehi specifically, it's gotten almost impossible to find so I was saving it for a special occasion.”
“Hmm, I see.”
Vasiliy pours himself a cup and carefully sips on the rare beverage.
It’s good.
“So, how was your date?”
Vasiliy almost spits out his tea.
“Wh-wh-what!?”
“With Colna of course. How was it?”
Karamelka smiled as if she hadn’t just said something completely outrageous.
Vasiliy rubs his temples.
“Karamelka, that was official government business, nothing more.”
He sighs.
“Besides, she's much younger than me. I think my moment has passed.”
Karamelka shakes her head.
“Age hardly matters when you're both adults. What are you 45? 48?”
“Fifty and turning Fifty-one this year.”
“She just turned thirty-two so don’t be so discouraged.”
Vasiliy feels defeated.
“How do you even know Ambassador Cascade in the first place?”
Karamelka chuckles.
“Do you think she stays put in the consulate all day? She likes taking walks in Alexander Park and the seafront. I sometimes talk to her there.”
“She let you?”
“I admit she was guarded at first but after a while she really opened up, we’re both mares interested in fashion after all. She’s quite a sweet pony once you get to know her. Do you know she actually studied in Equestria? In Vanhoover College I believe, she graduated and left just before the war.”
“Why are you telling me this Karamelka? Is there a particular reason why you befriended the ambassador?”
Vasiliy studies his friend. Karamelka may have fully retired from politics, but she must have had a reason to become acquainted with the Riverlander ambassador.
However, Karamelka just looks confused.
“Does everything have to be politics with you? I merely wanted to talk to an old friend, let a retired mare have her fun.”
Great, now Vasiliy just feels guilty.
“...sorry.”
“Don’t be. Now, answer my question: how was it? Your dinner with Colna?”
The tired stallion racks his brain, trying to remember that night.
“Uh… not well, it didn’t end well, I left early. We might not get recognition anytime soon… and things got unprofessional.”
Karamelka sighs. She slowly stirs her tea, not looking up at Vasiliy.
“Shame, Colna's lovely but it's very much like her not to budge. In some ways, we might have better chances with the Empire than the Federation.”
Vasiliy chuckles cynically.
“Tell Sinnie that, he might actually consider it.”
“Don’t give him any more ideas.”
Vasiliy takes pause, there’s a bite in Karamelka’s voice, so unlike the usually polite mare. Vasiliy and Karamelka may have had opposed each other on a number of issues, even publicly denounced each other, but that had been just politics. It’d been the same case with Karamelka and Altydia as well, but Sinister had been different.
Vasiliy had noticed Karamelka avoided Sinister whenever she could. In public debates, Karamelka had sometimes lost her temper when she’d been against Sinister. She had always seemed to keep an eye on him during meetings as well.
“Karamelka, you never seemed to like Sinister very much. Can I ask why?”
The mare doesn’t respond at first, she simply remains fixated on her tea. Eventually, however, she opens her mouth to speak.
“Vasiliy, what I’m going to tell you is merely the ramblings of a retired mare with too much free time, do you understand? Don’t take this too seriously.”
Vasiliy gulps.
“Ok.”
I’m going to regret this.
Karamelka finally looks up from her tea, meeting Vasiliy’s eyes. Vasiliy braces, but instead Karamelka softly smiles, a kind motherly one.
“Vasiliy, you’re quite a good pony aren’t you?”
“Is this a trick question or-”
“-No! Have some self confidence!”
“Sorry…”
Karamelka sighs once again.
“I really do mean it, Vasiliy. You’re a kind stallion, you joined the struggle because you wanted the best for everyone and I think that hasn’t changed.”
Karamelka sips her tea.
“We need ponies like you Vasiliy, people who can envision a better world.”
Those words certainly make Vasiliy feel better, but…
“Thank you, Karamelka… but you think Sinister is different?”
The red furred mare seems to ponder for a moment before speaking.
“Well, it’s complicated. I think Sinister was like you. But, at some point, before I met him, he changed.”
“How so?”
Instead of answering, Karamelka gets off the couch. She walks over to the biggest window in Vasiliy’s office - the one with an ocean view.
Vasiliy does the same, walking to be beside her. Karamelka likes the ocean, Vasiliy knows that, so it is strange that she looks at the blue expanse with only a grim expression.
“Vasiliy, just by the nature of our ideology, we have a lot of enemies, don’t we?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Even with Equus secured, the Union’s only ally abroad is Arabia, far away in Zebrica. The revolutions of Griffonia had all been crushed and much of Zerbrica is heavily underdeveloped, ruled by despots.
Karamelka sighs.
“Sinister recognized that fact, so his main focus shifted - from helping others to destroying our enemies - No, not just shifted, it’s like he’s forgotten why he joined the fight.”
Vasiliy can’t speak.
“Sinister doesn’t view the state as a collection of individuals, each one valuable, he views it like he views everything - as a weapon to destroy his enemies. He's utterly convinced all his enemies have to be destroyed for any real progress. There is some logic to that: Capitalism must be dismantled, in time, but we can’t be so absorbed in that kind of thinking; it makes us forget that lives are valuable - that you can't throw them away."
Vasiliy still can’t speak.
"Sinister is, however, absorbed in that thinking. He’s more of a soldier than Lunin or Masha. They have ideals they won't compromise, but Sinister? Anything for the war machine. Work with Wingbardy, invade Equestria, even his reasonable decisions: cooperation with Aris, opening Petershoof's port, trying to reestablish foreign ties - to him, they were all first and foremost, goalposts towards crushing victory. Though even then, I don’t even think he can imagine the final triumph - he's too caught up in the struggle to see the end goal. Isn't that mad, Vasiliy? A communist who can't imagine communism? Someone who would throw away the future to win in the present?!"
Karamelka is angry, angrier than Vasiliy had ever seen her.
"Karamelka, I have to ask, what brought this on?"
Her words had struck a chord with Vasiliy. She'd verbalized his fears and frustrations more accurately than he likes to admit. However, a part of him couldn't accept it.
The old mare beside him takes a breath, a long raspy one.
"You probably think I'm interpreting Sinister and all his actions in the worst way possible because of a few questionable decisions. There is an element of that, I have to admit. These are my ramblings after all. I apologize for spoiling your friend's somewhat good name but in truth Vasiliy, my opinion formed firmly the first time I met him."
Karamelka, mother of the revolution, looks at Vasiliy. Her eyes are lined with equal parts anger and fear.
“I will never forget that occasion. I believe it was 96, just after the revolution. You remember that time, it was chaos, even with the provisional government. Anyways, when I visited Konzan, I met with Sinister, who as you know, ended up running the militias by the end of the revolution and was the effective leader of the city. Anyways, we discussed the transition to civilian government, the food situation, among other things. The meeting actually went quite well, but he said something peculiar at the end: With this, we shall create the perfect weapon against capitalism.”
Not once does Karamelka break eye contact with Vasiliy.
“I almost laughed. We discussed grain distribution and elections, nothing to do with guns or bombs, or anything to do with war. We certainly weren’t planning an invasion of Equestria there and then. So, naturally, I asked him what he meant by that… his answer was telling. He told me that a good weapon design relies on many things, that only a fool would pursue brute power without considering other factors: “The powder must ignited properly, the shape cannot be too cumbersome, the mechanisms cannot be too complex to manufacture or repair - so many inglorious factors go into a weapon’s worth” and finally, while looking out the window at ponies he said “every mechanism, every part has to considered so that the final product kills properly,” - needless to say, I left the room as soon as I could.”
It is Vasiliy who breaks eye contact. He shifts head, refusing to look at his old comrade. Perhaps it’s a futile attempt to escape her words.
Vasiliy feels a hoof gently patting his shoulder, it’s Karamelka.
“I’m sorry, you don’t need these worries when you’re running the national economy. I’ll leave now.”
He watches her move to the door.
She opens it.
“What should I do, Karamelka?”
“Do what you've probably been doing - balance him out.”
“That hasn’t worked so far.”
“Again, have some self confidence.”
With that, Karamelka Sladkaya leaves Vasiliy Wheatkin in his own thoughts.
What would Alty do? What would Steel Stallion do? What can I do?
Time passes like a blur. Vasiliy returns to his desk where he spends an uncertain amount of time signing documents, reviewing and drafting proposals, anything to escape his thoughts.
Eventually, his secretary, Alexei, carrying a few documents, breaks the Minister out of his stupor. Vasiliy can’t even remember the young stallion coming in.
“Minister Wheatkin, Premier Serov requests your presence in Manehatten within 2 days' time.”
The blue Pegasus hands Vasiliy a file.
“These are the details, with some classified material.”
Taking the file, Vasiliy is confused.
“Is this about the constitution? I thought the Republics were well on their way to ratify it, even Tzinacatlia.”
“No Minister, I believe the topic is military related, the general staff is being called as well.”
“Huh, is that so?”
Looking through the document, Vasiliy will find the words that will haunt him for the rest of his life: “Operation Guillotine”.
Dodge City, Socialist Republic of Mixieland, March 1st, 1 A.U.
“The first Revolutionary War, led by Steel Stallion and waged by the workers of Severyana, overthrew capitalist and monarchical rule, broke the chains of oppression, and created a new state, a Socialist Council Republic, the basic instrument for defending the revolution and for building Communism. In the second Revolutionary War, this great experiment would be brought to the whole of Equestria, breaking a millennium of stagnation for ponykind.
The strength of Socialism was again demonstrated in the Great War, where the dark encroachment of imperialism was forever quelled by the immortal actions of the Equestrian people. This victory consolidated and strengthened the alliance of the worker, the farmer, and the intelligentsia as well as the eternal friendship of the 4 pony nations: the earth ponies, the unicorns, the pegasi, and the bat ponies. Socio-political and ideological unity of Equestrian society, in which the working class is the leading force, has been achieved.
From henceforth, the exploitation of creatures shall be forever broken, a truly democratic government shall be established, and social ownership for the general welfare shall reign supreme.
Now, to further the development of a truly mature socialist society, the creatures of Equestria shall found a wholly new state: The Socialist Union of Equestria.
It shall be a free and voluntary union of Socialist Council Republics, reflecting critical regional circumstances.
It shall be a society of free creatures, unburdened by the shackles of tradition.
It shall be a society for all, with a perfect coexistence of all species, cultures, nations, and languages.
It shall be a society forever loyal to the rights and needs of its citizenry.
It shall be a state that ensures the effective management of public affairs, with ever greater participation of the citizenry in the political process, a perfect synthesis of political freedom with the obligation and responsibility to society.
The ultimate goal of this state shall be the building of a classless communist society in which there will be public, communist self-government. The main responsibilities of this state shall be: to further the development of material conditions favorable to communism, to mold socialist social and economic relations, to further the living and cultural standards of all creatures, to safeguard the peoples’ security, and to foster everlasting international cooperation.
The Equestrian people, guided by ideals of Caramel Marks and every revolutionary since, relying on great gains of modern socialism, preserving the continuity of ideas from the Socialist Republic of Equestria, hereby affirm this constitution as the highest authority on the political structure of the Union, the rights, freedoms, and obligations of the Union citizenry, as well as the principles that will guide the nation.
Comrades! Our time has come!”
Just as the chairpony finishes reading the preamble to the new Union constitution, cheers erupt from the assembled crowd. Ponies throw their hats into the air. Pegasi hover over the crowd while holding up long red banners filled with party slogans. Bunches of confetti are thrown into the air, a sight not seen since victory day.
One young earth pony, a foal of ten years of age, enthusiastically waves her small red flag. She jumps up and down, flailing her limbs about.
Predictably, one of her hooves hit her friend, another earth pony with yellow fur and an orange mane.
“Oh, sorry Spring Gallop…”
The energetic foal sheepishly scratches the back head while looking away from her friend - who’s still miffed.
“You’re such a child Amber.”
Amber Gem is greatly offended by this remark. She turns to Spring Gallop, pouting childishly.
“I am not! I get better grades than you!”
Spring Gallop glares back Amber.
“That doesn’t mean anything if you act like this!”
“Why you!”
The two foals begin pulling each other’s faces. It’s more common than it should be.
Eventually, a pair of much bigger hoofs pull apart the two bickering ponies. It’s Amber’s cousin, Tree Gem, a stallion with brown fur and a green mane. He’s dressed in a dark blue air force cadet uniform and looks very tired, despite being on leave.
“Our country’s constitution has just been ratified and you two are acting like this?”
“...”
“...”
Tree Gem sighs.
“Come on now, apologize.”
“Sorry…”
“...Sorry.”
Both the foals apologize but neither seem genuine. Tree Gem notices this but just releases the two.
“Well, just listen to the rest of the chairman’s speech.”
Soon, the applause of the crowd comes down to a rest. On the platform, the Chairman of the Dodge city council begins speaking once more.
The Chairman is well known in Dodge city, Silver Metal - he’d been a lawyer for the Rail Workers' Union before the war and then led a resistance movement during it. The now middle aged, brown furred pony adjusts his glasses before speaking again, with a warm smile coming across his face.
“Now comrades, you can read the full constitution provided free of charge at any government office, newspaper dispensary, or library. To paraphrase the great document: the rights of common pony to employment, rest, and political freedom has been officially codified into law. No more shall Equestrians live under the boot of plutocratic oppression!”
The crowd cheers once more.
“The Supreme Council of the Republic has officially been dissolved. It shall be reorganized into the All-Union Council of Equestria. This body shall be a bicameral legislature, with the upper body, The Council of Peoples, representing the diverse Republics, species, and labor organizations of our great nation. The lower body, the Workers’ Assembly, shall represent the people of the Union as a whole. In both bodies, the All-Union Communist Party shall take the leading role. Needless to say, the Red Party of Mixieland supports this action!”
Amber Gem pulls on Tree Gem’s sleeve.
“Tree, what's the-the Red Party of Mixieland?”
“It's the ruling party in Mixieland.”
That answer perplexes Amber Gem.
“I thought there was only one party, the communist party. I learned that in school.”
“Ah well, you know we have a government for Mixieland and then a bigger one for the whole Union?”
Amber Gem nodded.
“In the Union government, the Communist Party acts as the vanguard for the whole country, so it’s the only national party. In Mixieland and the other republics, though, a lot of different smaller parties are allowed, the communist party doesn’t even stand for regional elections.”
Amber Gem considers her cousin's words.
“Well then, what’s the Red Party like?”
Tree Gem scratches his head.
“As far as I can tell they mostly follow the All-Union party. All the higher ups are members of the All-Union party as well.”
“So they’re like - like an unofficial… branch of the main party?”
“Smart girl, how did you know that?”
Amber Gem holds her head high.
“I read those big fancy books in the library.”
“Did ya understand most of it?”
“...of course I did!”
Tree laughs and ruffles his cousin’s mane. Amber catches Spring Gallop smirking on the corner of her eye.
Hmph! Everyone thinks I’m just a kid!”
Though convinced of her maturity the little foal tugs her cousin’s sleeve for one more question.
“If there are other parties in Mixieland what are they called?”
Tree scratches his head.
“Well, uh, the others aren’t that important, the Red Party has about three quarters of the seats in the Republican Council. Uhh… there’s the Labor Front - Syndies, but good folk. There’s that small Buffalo party, we should probably keep an eye on them and, uhh… Oh yeah, there’s the United Front of Mixieland, all sorts of ponies there.”
“Like?”
“Liberals, social democrats, small business owners, folk who want more autonomy for Mixieland: it’s a diverse bunch. Internal Affairs even busted some monarchists that were in there. Definitely a bourgeois group, but not too significant though, they have round five seats in the council. I heard a lot of their candidates got disqualified - serves them right.”
Amber Gem sighs. In truth, she’d only vaguely understood what her cousin said.
“All this sounds confusing.”
Tree shrugs.
“You’ll understand when you're older.”
Suddenly, the band beside the stage starts playing a tune, a familiar and expected one.
Chairman Metal addresses the crowd:
“Now comrades, join me in singing our nation’s new national anthem! You should all know about it! Share your pamphlets with those that don't have it memorized!”
Amber Gem and Spring Gallop share a pamphlet between them. They’ve mostly memorized the lyrics but a reference would be nice.
Tree looks at them.
“Are you girls ready?”
“Yep!” Screams Amber Germ.
“Sure…” Mumbles Spring Gallop.
“It’s ok, Spring Gallop. No one can hear your singing with so many people here.”
“He-”
Amber Gem swiftly cuts her friend off:
“It’s starting!”
Soon, a slow orchestral rhythm spreads through the crowd. It calms the atmosphere, joining all those there into one. The tune is that of a common Hearth's Warming song, one familiar to almost all Equestrians.
Gently, it begins:
“...The people's flag is deepest red,
It shrouded oft our martyred dead,
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold,
Their hearts' blood dyed its every fold…
…Then raise the scarlet standard high!
Beneath its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here!
…
…It waved above our smallest might,
When all ahead seemed dark as night;
It witnessed many a deed and vow,
We mustn't change its color now!
Then raise the scarlet standard high!
Beneath its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here!
With heads uncovered swear we all
To bear it onward till we fall;
Come dungeon dark or gallows grim,
This song shall be our parting hymn.
Then raise the scarlet standard high!
Beneath its shade we'll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We'll keep the red flag flying here!”
It’s after the festivities, near the outskirts of Dodge City. Tree Gem is walking behind Amber, making sure the philly got home safely. Spring Gallop lives near the city center and so had gone off by herself.
Oddly enough, Tree Gem looks a little nervous as he walks, constantly adjusting his collar as he goes. Amber Gem smiles.
“Hey cous, why do you look so nervous? Is the big strong soldier scared?”
Tree Gem frowns.
“Says the pony who's still scared of Buffalo.”
“A-am not! They’re just too big! And furry!”
The Air Forces cadet laughs at the expense of the younger pony. Still, Amber Gem stubbornly glares at Tree, expecting an answer.
He sighs.
“I didn’t want to worry you, but I got some nasty glares from ponies last time I was here.”
“What? What did you do?!” Amber Gem points at Tree accusingly.
Tree Gem throws his hoofs up defensively.
“Nothing, just the outfit.”
He gestures at his dress uniform.
“What? That’s it?”
“Yep.”
Without explaining further, Tree Gem starts trotting away quickly. Amber rushes to follow him.
“Hey, you didn’t answer my question!”
“I did.”
He speeds up.
“Not well!”
He speeds up to a sprint and Amber follows. Shockingly, the little foal is able to keep pace with Tree Gem, though it does take a toll.
After a half mile of galloping, Tree Gem relents and slows down. He lets Amber take a moment to catch a breath. The foal is nearly out of breath - her limbs are unsteady and she’s struggling to make eye contact with her cousin.
“Are you-”
“Answer!” Amber Gem, despite the run, did not lose her stubbornness.
Tree Gem sighs before explaining.
“Don’t worry about it, but a lot of folks around here don’t like the Union very much.”
“Like my parents?”
Tree Gem begrudgingly nods.
“Yes, like your parents. It’s better in Dodge city than it is in Cloudsdale and especially Canterlot - probably the labor union influence. But still, some folk in some neighborhoods don’t like soldiers walking ‘round.”
“Are those ponies dangerous?” More than she likes to admit, the thought of disloyal neighbors makes her nervous.
Tree Gem doesn’t answer at first, he instead gently ruffles his cousin’s mane.
“Are your parents dangerous? No. They’ll come around eventually. They just need some time.”
Amber nods, though only slightly.
“Come on, isn’t that your house right over there?”
Tree Gem points to the small cottage-like house at the end of the block. In the past, it had been painted white, but now, the paint has faded away, making the structure’s color a mix of faded white and the natural brown. At the very least, it had escaped the war intact.
Amber tugs on Tree Gem’s sleeve.
“You should come inside. My mom and dad would be happy to see you.”
The stallion pokes his cousin’s nose.
“Liar.”
“If you explained things again…”
“I’d like to see them but as I said, they need time, Uncle Knox and Aunt Jen still ain’t ok with me. Bye Amber Gem.”
“Bye…”
She watches her cousin go, probably to the boarding house where he’d been staying. By tomorrow, he will be off to the Air Forces Academy in Cloudsdale.
It isn’t fair.
Amber Gem resents her parents somewhat, Tree Gem had been nothing but a good cousin and nephew but when he wants to serve his country, they want nothing to do with him?
Amber Gem slowly walks to her house, trying to cheer herself up along the way.
There will be another Pioneer’s hike this friday, those are always fun. Ooo! The cherry trees will blossom later this month, that’s always a pretty sight! And uh… umm…
Before she knows it, the young foal reaches the door.
Okay! Today’s the day! I’m going to convince them to talk to Tree Gem again! They ain’t gonna brush me off today!
Abandoning all reason, Amber furiously opens the door.
“Ma! Pa!”
What meets her is silence. A few moments go by without a word. Strange, her parents should be home by now…
Then, Amber Gem sees the door to the kitchen open. To her relief, it’s just her mother: Jennifer Gem looks the same as ever with pale brown fur and an even paler mane done up in one thin braid. She wears glasses, small ones, very fitting for a librarian.
“Hun, what is it now?”
“Where’s pa?”
Jennifer starts looking back at the kitchen for a moment before stopping herself.
“He’s busy in the kitchen.”
“Can we talk about something?”
“Maybe later Amber Gem. Could you go to your room for a second? Me and your father were discussing something.”
“Pleaseeee- it’s really important.”
Despite Amber’s pleading, Jennifer doesn’t budge.
“I’m sorry sweetie but-”
Before her mother can finish, Amber Gem rushes her, ducking to the side, squeezing past Jennifer to reach the kitchen. Her plan isn’t good - her father won’t be more willing to listen than her mother, but she has to try.
“Pa-”
In the kitchen is something she doesn’t expect.
Sitting on the table is Amber’s father, Knox Gem, wearing the same brown suit and having his yellow mane neatly combed. However, there are two other, unfamiliar ponies sitting on the table, both of which look surprised to see Amber Gem as well:
A unicorn with gray fur and an unkept pink mane is sitting next to Knox. Right next to him is a strange looking pony, a… pegasus with weird looking wings, a navy-blue mane and fur, and… fangs?
Oh! That’s a Thestral!
Most ponies in Dodge City or across Mixieland are still… uncomfortable around Thestrals. Like the rest of the country, they respected Marshal Masha and General Goldgear, but it’d always been a minor stir when a bat pony had been seen in the city - something to gossip about.
Tree Gem had told Amber that before the war, Mixielanders as a whole opposed the Thestral Rights movement. That certainly still showed in Dodge City, what a shame.
Still! It’s great of Ma and Pa to invite one over!
“Hello comrade Thestral! Are you enjoying Dodge City?!”
Somewhat stiffly, Amber Gem addresses the Thestral directly.
Instead of answering Amber Gem, the Thestral turns to Knox Gem.
“Your…”
Amber’s father sighs.
“My daughter.” He says in his distinctly northern accent.
“Oh, I see.”
With that, the Thestral awkwardly turns back to Amber Gem.
“Hi young lady, I’m enjoying the city very much…”
Hmm… he has a weird accent. He isn’t from the North, maybe the South East?
“So is it true tha-”
Before Amber Gem can ask a possibly offensive question, she’s pulled by the ear by her mother.
“Ow ow ow!”
“You’re going to your room missy!”
Right before reaching the door, Jennifer Gem looks back on the ponies sitting on the kitchen table.
“Sorry about this, Captain Sanbary, Lieutenant Evening.”
Wait, are those two ponies from the military? Are ma and pa ok with soldiers now?!
As if realizing her mistake, Jennifer quickly pulls Amber Gem out of the kitchen and into the hallway. The mare shuts the door behind them before letting Amber Gem go.
“Does this mean-”
“Not now Amber Gem. Go to your room now!”
Jennifer points at the stairs.
“But-”
“No. Not right now.”
“Then what were you-”
“Amber! Not now!”
Jennifer looks truly angry, there’s frigidity to her voice. Amber Gem can’t remember the last time she’d been this mad.
Reluctantly, the foal relents to her mother, making her way up to the stairs and into her room. Amber Gem slams her bedroom door behind her before collapsing down on her old, thin bed - her previous motivation gone.
Her parents hate the Union, yet they’d invited some soldiers over, and now they’re angry with her - well, at least her mother. That made little sense to the young foal: looking back, Amber had done far worse things than just now and yet her mother hadn’t gotten half as mad. Why didn’t they want Amber Gem to be there?
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Amber Gem thinks back before all of this went down. The war had apparently started when she had been one so her first memories had been one where Dodge City was under Changeling occupation. She didn’t have early memories of being outside. More often than not, her family put her down in the basement while loud noises went on around them. Amber Gem’s parents had been scared to go outside, really scared of everything. It hadn’t been their fault, they always looked a little more gone after they came back to their house, sometimes with injuries. It must have made them stressed - Knox and Jennifer had argued and argued in that cramped basement while Tree Gem would try to cheer up Amber.
Poor him, ripped from his parents and forced to comfort a crybaby.
Then, the Red Army came. Amber had been around five and even she’d known something big was going to happen. The noises had gotten louder and louder. Her parents had looked more and more optimistic, though they’d still be sad even in their happiest moments. Even so, in the early morning, against her parents' wishes, Amber Gem had stuck out of the basement. From the front windows, she’d seen pony soldiers wearing brown uniforms right on the road. Needless to say, Amber Gem had gotten so excited she ran out of the house to greet them. Though confused, the soldiers had been kind to her and told her that they were going to liberate the rest of Equestria. They’d then returned Amber to her very worried pair of parents.
From there, things had gotten better. Rations had gotten bigger, Amber Gem started school and met ponies her age, her parents finally began to smile a lot more, and Amber had been free to explore the outside as much as she wanted…
Then Tree Gem had passed the examination for the Air Forces Academy, and everything derailed.
Suddenly, Amber Gem hears a few, sporadic knocks on the door.
“Amber honey, can I come in?”
It’s her father.
“Go away.”
Despite her words, Knox Gem opens the door. Amber Gem turns over, refusing to face him.
“I heard you wanted to talk about something, do you still want to?”
“... No.”
Knox chuckles, sitting himself on the chair right next to Amber’s bed.
“Come on kiddo, I know it was really important to you. Your mother is sorry about shouting so much.”
“...Really?”
“Yes really, now what shall we discuss?”
“Tree Gem.”
Amber feels the room become 10 times as tense. Her father is silent, it’s clearly a sore topic for him.
“Honey…”
“You hate him now, don’t you? He was nothing but good to us all and you kicked him out because he enlisted! He misses you; you know! How could you?!”
Amber Gem feels tears dripping on her face.
“When I get older and I enlist, will you stop talking to me too?”
After a few moments of Amber quietly crying, Knox begins gently ruffling Amber Gem’s mane, just like when she’d been younger. It’s comforting, she has to admit.
“Amber, I would never. What happened with Tree, I never intended it to go that far. Just… tempers flared up and we said things we didn’t mean.”
“Hmph…”
Knox sighs.
“Amber, you know Uncle Granite?”
That’s Tree’s father and Knox’s brother. Amber Gem doesn't know much about him, just that he didn't survive the war’s first year.
She nods slightly.
“Well, he was a soldier in the Royal Army, major if I recall. He was stationed in Novochernushsk on the border with Severyana and well… I don’t know the details, but he didn’t make it when the commies invaded.``
Amber Gem tenses, reminded of her father’s views on the Union.
“Sweety, I know what you learn in school, but I don’t believe a word of it. They invaded us, killed their fellow ponies, and worked with bugs and now they act like they did us a favor. The Union is a better choice over Changelings mind you, but that doesn’t mean I like it. To work for them, willingly… It makes me sick to think about.”
Amber turns around and quickly gets up from her bed to face her father.
“That- that was necessary! The old regime was too weak to fight the Changelings!”
Anger flashes in Knox’s face before he quickly cools down. He rubs his temples, turning away from his daughter.
“You’re free to disagree, hun,” Knox says weakly, “But don’t think these reds have your best interest at heart.”
The stallion looks tired, drained because of his thoughts. It somewhat reminds Amber of what he was like during the war, always worried, always scared.
Amber Gem doesn’t want to probe further, and she wouldn’t… but she still has one lingering question:
“Pa, if you hate the Union’s soldiers so much, why did you have two of them over?”
Her father sighs again, his face in his hoofs.
“They’re… different. I can’t tell you why, but I promise they’re good people.”
“Can you at least tell me why they’re over?”
Worry, almost panic washes over Knox’s face.
“Yo- you’ll understand when you’re older, I promise.”
“Is it work related?”
Knox works as a clerk at the Dodge Junction logistics office. It's state-run, with all railways nationalized and all, so Amber thinks that’s maybe related to the military somehow.
The stallion in front of her pauses for a moment before simply shaking his head.
“Sorry hun, I can’t say.”
He pats Amber’s head.
“I’ll talk to Tree again. I was too harsh on the boy.”
“Really?”
“Yes, tomorrow, and I promise all of this will make sense one day. Things will go back to the way things used to be,” Knox gets up from his chair, “Now, let’s go downstairs, I think our guests have left by now.”
Holding the father’s hoof Amber Gem heads downstairs. She is inundated with worries - she’s still wondering what her parents are up to, if her father and Tree Gem can reconcile, or if her parents can ever accept the Union she loves. But, following the advice of her parents, she hesitantly chose to look on the bright side. Still…
“The way things used to be”? What could he mean by that?
The next day, Knox Gem will meet with his nephew for a very awkward conversation. It will go… ok - the beginning of a long process in which they will almost be able to reconcile.
This isn’t a rare story or one exclusive to Equestria, rather it’s common to all places which change rapidly
Still, Amber Gem will be happy enough with this development. She’ll celebrate the occasion with her parents, a memory she’ll hold dear even in her last days. But even so, the happy memory will have a bitter lining as Amber Gem will curse her younger self for being so unaware of the world around her.
Manehatten, Eastern Republic, SUE, May 18th, 1 A.U.
“Comrade Kaur, is that you?”
Aran Kaur turns over to find a familiar face, Major Hedge Climber, a tall red unicorn, with a distinctive pink scar under his right eye. Conspicuously, the Major is wearing civilian clothes, despite the occasion.
Aran smiles.
“It's good to see you, Major.”
“Heh, quite the event, isn’t it?”
The two find themselves at the front of a huge crowd. The crowd lines 6th street, one of the few in Manehatten that can accommodate the oncoming parade. The Big Apple’s great structures hem in the gathering, leaving little room to move; the buildings themselves are covered in freshly made banners, crimson red and always displaying some slogan: Victory, Progress, Liberation - things along those lines.
The ponies present dress well. Suits, ties, formal dresses, and uniforms if the pony has served.
Aran Kaur himself is finely dressed, a dark brown suit complimented with a simple black tie, recently bought. He packed lightly when coming to Equestria almost 5 years back. That life hadn’t been one of formal events and so the reporter’s wardrobe had been bare for the past few years - a fact that hadn’t changed even as he’d stayed put in Manehatten. Three days before had been the time Aran had realized he needed something decent. He’d rushed to the clothing store to find something within his price range - not an easy task. Equestria might be a socialist country, but before the war, it’d been the world’s richest, which reflects in store prices - a daunting prospect for a Hindian salary.
Ah, indeed, I’ll have to ration food for the next month.
Trying to keep that thought off his mind, Aran turns to his old friend.
“Major Climber, why not the usual uniform?”
Today, it’s expected that the military personnel wear their dress uniforms, but instead, the unicorn just wears black slacks and a white shirt with a red tie.
Climber shrugs.
“I didn’t have to, besides, I have to wear that old thing at work as well.”
Hedge Climber works at the Ministry of Defense building, where apparently the staff had to wear dress uniforms. It’s a strange rule, especially for Equestria. Aran had noticed many civil servants didn’t often dress formally, just simple work clothes - overalls, loose pants, and shirts without a suit coat. The military is just particularly stuffy like that.
“Well major, can we expect anything exciting this time around?” Asks Aran.
Climber grins.
“There sure will be something…” Climber says, looking quite excited for whatever is coming.
The major works in equipment procurement, a perfect job for a gearhead like him. He can talk at length about anything declassified, a useful resource for all things military.
“Since it’s about to start, can you at least tell me what kind of equipment will be revealed this time around?”
Climber seems to contemplate Aran’s question, fiddling with his own mane before answering.
“Ah… well… ok. It’s a tank.”
“... That’s all? Doesn’t seem out of the ordinary, is it another T-16 variant?.”
The Union’s now famous mainline tank, the T-16 had apparently caused a stir internationally when it debuted in 1017. Aran is hardly an expert, but he knows putting a 100mm gun on a medium tank is impressive and the tank is apparently well armored as well, more so than the T-10 or T-14. However, the vehicle, according to Climber, had faced issues in its early models and so had been constantly adjusted. Indeed, a few months ago, the Red Army had unveiled a T-16 with a new domed turret, which Aran had thought was a new tank. Another variant would be notable but not particularly so.
Climber shakes his head.
“Can’t say much about it, but it certainly isn’t a T-16.”
Before the implications of the statement can sink in for Aran, he can hear march music thunder through the city.
Ah, so it begins.
Everypony in attendance seems to straighten up, both in posture and expression. The previous, somewhat casual mood goes away completely. Ponies self-organize, arranging themselves in standing lines, standing upright with heads held high. It only makes sense for an event of this magnitude:
It’s the third anniversary of the end of the Great War. Three years after the last Changeling Heer units surrendered to the Red Army. This Victory Day parade will be one of many held in every Equestrian city and town. Across the continent, ponies in brown uniforms will march through the streets, in remembrance of their triumph. Flags will be held high, ponies will shout party slogans until their voices go out, and thousands will tune in to hear the Premier speak.
Aran knows this because it’d happened in 1018, 1019, and now it’ll happen again in 1020, or should he say year 1. He knows he shouldn’t have been shocked at the enthusiasm of the Equestrians, but he always is. Loyal Harmonists to devoutly saluting the red flag - what a series of events.
Talking to other foreigners in Petershoof, Aran had met the belief that Equestrians would revolt against the new government, restoring the Princessdom. That had been wishful thinking. Winning a war is a crowd pleaser. As long as the Union doesn’t greatly offend the average Equestrian, it isn’t going away anytime soon.
Expectantly, the march music grows louder as the procession comes closer. Aran readies his camera, hoping it’ll work this time around.
Sure enough, the first of the soldiers come into view. Like clockwork, columns upon columns of stern-faced ponies march in perfect unison, SVETA rifles at their side. Aran soon sees what exactly the first group is wearing: “New Browns”.
Generally, during the war, SRE infantry had worn two kinds of uniforms: the Severyanan Gymnastyorka, and the "New" Brown, which is Equestria’s pre-war “Service Dress” dyed in Severyanan Brown. Apparently, the new government had their hands on many Equestrian uniforms and clothing factories and had wanted as many uniforms as possible. So, gray changed to brown and that’s that. Even by the end of the war, much of the Red Army had still been wearing the compromised dress.
Now, with the war over, the army downsized, the fits are out of service. The Gymnastyorka seems to have completely subsumed it - though, according to Climber, those might be on the chopping block as well.
It makes sense though, that the army would dig a few New Browns out of storage. I imagine Equestrians identify with the outfit more than any Severyanan design.
Behind the first column of soldiers is the usual procession:
T-10 and T-14 tanks rumble across the city in neat rows, their commanders popping out the hatch to hold their heads high.
Trucks haul artillery of all types - howitzers, anti-tank guns, anti-air guns, and rocket pods. Most are Great War kits, though a lot of them are still in service.
The infantry come again- this time in Gymnastyrokas and carrying the new AK-17s, more typical of the contemporary Red Army.
Following close behind them are the Winged infantry, Pegasi and Thestrals. Their uniforms look little different from the rest of the army, only being differentiated by their wings.
The air force is not far behind, in multiple senses.
Just as ponies in blue air force attire come into Aran’s view, the screeching sound of jet engines rings out from a far. All creatures look up to find sixteen aircraft rapidly blitzing through the sky in Vic formation:
These planes didn’t fight in the Great War - they haven’t even entered service. They’re ProT-15s, the Union’s newest jet aircraft. Aran has seen them a month prior, but they’re flying much closer than before, the red stars painted on their white exteriors clearly visible.
Truly, they look more different from any fighter plane Aran has seen. Jet planes in general had always appeared strange to the deer, the lack of propeller and all, but the 15 has swept wings and stabilizers, giving it an odd silhouette. The plane didn’t even have a nose, just an air intake making it look as if its propeller got cut off.
The plane is big as well. It's hard to tell from a distance, but they're noticeably longer and wider than a "light" fighter should be. Doesn’'t that slow down the plane and make it more expensive?
In any case, the ProT-15s fly by too fast for a decent picture. Subsonic flight does that kind of thing.
Aran sighs. So far, the parade has been more of the same. That's still newsworthy, maintaining this level of enthusiasm is difficult. It shows that the Union hasn't waned in popularity, if anything, the streets seemed more crowded this year, though Aran doesn't know for sure.
Still, personally, he’d hoped for something more exciting: maybe new equipment, or even a significant change to anything.
It had not been like this during the war. There always had been something to report on: new tank, new plane, new offensive, or anything. Now, in peace and in Manehatten, things had taken a slower pace:
Debates in the Supreme Council are not open to the public, not even journalists.
Politicians in general seem wary of foreign journalists and are typically very busy - the few interviews Aran had gotten were short - around 10 minutes at the most. March had been somewhat noteworthy, with the constitution being ratified and plenty of new laws to be reported on, but nothing the average Hindian would find particularly exciting.
Aran thinks about the pictures he’s taken. They’re probably…okay, but nothing out of the ordinary for this parade.
Honestly, last year’s pictures might be enough.
“Disappointed, comrade?”
Major Climber seems to have noticed the expression on Aran’s face.
“Ah, did it show?”
“It was quite obvious.”
Aran pulls on his face, feeling embarrassed.
“Perhaps peace just isn’t for me.”
“Maybe you should sail south, I heard there’s something interesting going on in West Zebrica - Arabia and Mareypt are at each other's throats.”
“That does sound interesting… but who knows if I can get back into Equestria if I leave.”
For now, the Hindian Confederation still maintains relations with the Union. They don’t recognize the state, but maintain their consulate in Petershoof nonetheless.
Before the “Saltmane Incident,” as the foreign press likes to call it, many other coalition members had done the same, but now, Hindia and Zonica are the only member states with some presence in the Union.
However, that’s more than subject to change. Aran had picked up a Hindian newspaper the last time he’d visited Petershoof - an Ostranbi Times issue - it’d read: “REPUBLICAN PARTY FACES DISSOLUTION DUE TO FOREIGN POLICY DISAGREEMENTS.” The prose had been a little dramatic, but the Aran had believed the contents:
The Republican Party of Hindia is really an alliance of Harmonic Republicans under the Kansleri Ivar Hoeversholm and the Communists, united in their hatred of monarchists and traditionalists. Needless to say, this is a fragile framework, particularly over the issue of the Union.
Back in 1014, when the SUE had been the SRE and Aran had been recently demobilized, some rare real debate had raged in the Riksdag over whether or not to recognize Red Equestria. Hoeversholm had prevailed of course, but not without compromises, such as recognizing Socialist control over Severyana.
Now, with Coalition membership, it seems the issue has flared up again.
If the party really does split, it can’t go well for the Communists. Aran thinks. The Kansleri does have immense power - he can make their lives hell. Then, he’ll probably make things worse between Hindia and the Union. If I leave now, I might be able to get back in.
Just then, another screeching noise rings from above. Aran looks up to see a rather familiar sight:
Around 30 Nova-7 jet fighters fly up. Of course, this doesn’t drum the same kind of excitement in the crowd - more than half don’t even look up. The NoV-7 is an older design than the ProT-15, introduced just after the war as the NoV-5 before being upgraded. Unlike the 15, the Nov-7 looks more like a normal plane, with straight wings and stabilizers. It also has a nose, no propeller of course.
I’m never gonna get used to that. Never want to fly in one.
Without hangup, another huge formation of 7’s fly over, and then another, and then another.
More jets than last year, and more jets than what most countries have.
“Impressive isn’t it?”
Despite the noise, Major Climber seems entranced by the planes, like a foal looking at a shiny new toy.
“Looking quite bright eyed there Major, do you like them better than your tanks?”
Climber looks positively alarmed at Aran’s question.
“Don’t get me wrong, land vehicles are still the the best-”
That’s a former tanker for you.
“-but I’m starting to realize planes might be important as well.” Climber says almost begrudgingly.
“That’s progress.”
“Well, no matter how many jets we have, it still doesn’t compare to that over there.”
The Major points at procession, more specifically the part arising into view. He has a proud, knowing grin on face, so Aran hopes he isn’t disappointed:
The deer squints, trying to see the shapes now just coming into view. Just past the gray-clad Nova-Griffonian troops, are vehicles - tanks by their sound.
The newest land vehicles, coming just before the Premier himself.
Slowly, Aran begins to see the column of tanks coming into view:
They’re not T-16s.
The first thing that stands out is the turret. Compared to other Union tanks, the turrets on these vehicles are big, and almost boxy, being only curved at the front with more sharp angles on the turret’s various components. The turret makes the tanks taller than T-16s, maybe by half a meter.
The chassis looks similar to a slightly enlarged T-16’s, though the frontal armor is less curved, and its tracks are proportionally a little wider.
More than anything, it looks somewhat like the New Marelander Phoenix tank, built with Severyanan parts.
The most peculiar part is the gun. Instead of being cylindrical, the tank’s main gun is rectangular, with a square muzzle to boot. It’s also small, much thinner than the T-16’s main gun, closer to a 60mm’s diameter in width. The arrangement looks strange with such a thin gun for a large turret.
Before Aran notices the faint, purple glow radiating out from the tank gun’s muzzle, the tanks, in unison, aim their guns at a high angle and fire.
The sound is incomprehensible. It’s mixture of thunder, the cracking of fire, and a gunpowder explosion, distorting reality as a beam of concentrated bright purple energy bursts from the tanks’ barrels.
Aran turns to see where the shots ended up. The shot beams go straight into the air, seemingly curving before bursting into a massive multi-colored explosion.
Firework… spells. They’re firing spells, big ones too.
Magical weapons on vehicles aren’t a new concept per say, but they’re rare on anything not experimental. Magic weapons get more unstable the larger they’re scaled up, so magical weapons had largely been confined to specialized, heavy small arms.
There had always been rumors of a heavy, magical artillery - huge magical cannons rather than firing crystal infused shells.
Those rumors… now they’re reality.
There’s more than two dozen of these tanks and they’d all successfully fired their guns.
Aran makes sure to take as many pictures as he can. He almost trips into the road trying to get a better angle on one of them.
The vehicles roll on too quickly, replaced by a stream of T-16’s. Aran considers running after them, but he wouldn’t get anywhere with the crowd.
Quickly, he turns to Climber:
“What can y-”
The major holds up his hoof to stop the overzealous deer.
“Not much. Not much at all.”
“What’s not much?!”
Climber sighs.
“Calm down… well, I can tell you the name; it’s the T-50. The T-50 Veronika.”
“Named?”
“Yeah, they’ve decided to start doing that... I can also tell you they’re going into service soon.”
“...So soon after the T-16? That tank is still getting new variants.”
Climber’s face becomes more guarded.
“It's not my place to speculate on the why of that. This is all I can tell you.”
A wave of disappointment washes over Aran.
“... I understand, Major, thank you for the information.”
“Hey, why the long face, this is pretty newsworthy eh?”
“I suppose...”
“More info will be released later on; you just have to wait. Ohh! Here comes the Premier now!”
“I can’t even take pictures anymore… I’m out of…”
“He’s so close now!”
Somewhat reluctantly, Aran raises his head.
Premier Sinister Serov of the Socialist Union of Equestria looks as magnanimous as ever. He rides atop a black open top, Model 1008, Mustang car. The black-furred pony is donned in a simple black suit and tie, his blue eyes providing a sharp contrast to the rest of appearance.
As always, he smiles pleasantly and waves at the crowd, a completely different person than in his speeches.
Aran looks at the Premier, a stallion who has conquered more territory than any other pony, possibly more than any other creature, in history. Now, he just looks like a regular politician, the shift almost makes Aran laugh.
Suddenly, Sinister’s eyes make contact with Aran’s. There’s a shift in the Premier’s expression, a small one.
However, no matter how subtle, Sinister’s now ominous smile sends a shiver down Aran’s spine.
“You know, my sister’s starting a winery down near New Horseleans!”
Aran finds himself in a bar, an old decently sized one, privately owned as well. The well-lit room is packed full of ponies, not surprising in the aftermath of Victory Day. In fact, there’s more ponies here than ever.
When Aran first found the bar 3 years ago, it had never been this busy, even after victory parades.
The beer has gotten cheaper. Aran thinks wistfully as he takes another gulp.
Major Climber, sitting beside Aran, has had more than enough to drink. The Major usually rambles on about his family when he’s drunk and today’s no exception.
“...Yeah, well, uh - it’s like a “cooperative” I think? Like, the people… the people working own the company? I think she said something about tax benefits that the South-east or Tina- uh- Tizina-cata, republic hass…”
Climber slumps further into the table.
“Anyways… I’m uh, really, real-ly happy for her… Besides, no-no wine’s coming in anymore…”
Climber slumps even further, barely conscious.
The gray-feathered griffon bartender looks at Aran.
“I’m going to have cut your friend off, Aran.” He states bluntly.
“...Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Aran replies.
Aran takes his time to finish his beer, he doesn’t look forward to making his way to his small apartment - especially considering he lives in West Bronclyn, a ways from central Manehatten.
Climber seems happy in a way only a drunk pony can be. He’s blissfully mumbling some nonsense about his parents, two old mages who live in Filydephia.
“Looking forward to the future Major?” Aran asks, feeling quite tipsy himself.
Surprisingly, Climber responds:
“YEP! Nothing but smooth sailing from here!”
“...Oh…I see…”
“That… that reminds me though. There’s something interesting go-going on a-a ways into the jungle…”
“...Ok…” Aran replies haphazardly.
“Y-yeah, I have a fr-friend… he lives in one of those-uh new little settlements in the jungle. He came up last week and told me the weirdest things…”
“Wha-w…hat was it?”
“A lot of tribals? Or was it Neighua…yeah, I think -think that’s their name… Anyways they were protesting in that city of theirs.”
“...That, that does sound interesting Major, do you know the reason.”
“Something about a building…Or was it about the railroad? Anyways… I do…don’t know what they’re so angry about… THERE’S PEACE! Pe-PEACE I tell you! What do you have to be angry about?”
The Major calms down from his outburst, it’s hardly noticed in the liveness of the bar.
“Anyways… you sho-should go down there if Manehatten keep, keeps being boring…”
Climber completely collapses into the table, fast asleep.
What he told me does sound interesting… I’ll consider it when I get back home…
