A Fleeting Chance

by Nygell The Glutius

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Death, Alternate Universe, Drama, Original Character, Adventure, Tragedy, Violence
Length: 10038

Toffee Brulee believed in the Equestrian Dream. He was promised that success would come of his special talent, no matter what it was. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

This is a story set in the "Equestria at War" universe.

Severyana was the last refuge for ponies unable to prosper with their special talents. Tycoons and entrepreneurs harnessed the natural resources of the region to create a miniature industrial superpower within Equestria. Mineral farms converted into sprawling plantations of crops and workshops gave way to vast factories. The laborers of this foundation were comprised of those forgotten ponies seeking an opportunity to begin again. Alas, their spirits were exploited for cheap profit and production. Few of them were able to thrive and rise among their peers, and these rare occurrences fueled the legendary promise of Severyana. Many years have passed since the Industrial Revolution took root in Equestria, and hopeless ponies still flocked to Severyana to chase a dream that only hid a nightmare.

Toffee Brulee was one of these poor ponies. Manehattan proved to be inhospitable to him and his craft, but he found himself alive nonetheless. He had heard the promises of Severyana before, so he took whatever meager belongings he had and trudged northwards to the region's industrial capitol, Princessyn. In that sacred city, Toffee found an abundance of employment programs more than willing to take him in. One of the program sites even interviewed him on the spot, and gave him a date for admission. Despite his turning fortunes, Toffee felt the hoof of fate ready to break him once again.

Published 2020-04-05 20:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-04-05 20:40:01 UTC

A Shipment Arrives From Manehattan

Pillars of smoke rose into the clear expanse of the sky. Clanging and roaring of industrial equipment rumbled from inside the rustic brick walls of the factory as if it were some beast deep in its slumber. My knocks on its metal door, feeble as they were, seemed to perturb the creature and caused it to stir. Its eye slit opened suddenly.

“What do you want?” a gruff voice asked.

Warily I replied, “I’m here to see Gravel Bubble. It’s about my employment.”

The door mumbled to itself quietly. “Alright then, come through and follow me.”

A stallion opened the door, revealing his bulky form and glimpses of the factory's interior. He led me through a series of corridors and stairways until we arrived at another door labeled “Manager”. My escort pushed it open and prodded me into a plain, but messy, office. Filing cabinets overflowing with paper lined the walls. A desk, opulently designed and covered in miniature skyscrapers of paperwork and documents, was at the epicenter of the chaos. The stacks of paper spoke.

“Who is it?” they asked, fatigued.

My escort replied before I could answer. “It’s your 5 o’clock appointment, Ms. Bubble.”

“Oh, lovely! Let ‘im have a seat, and can ya also get me the shipments catalog before ya leave today?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The stallion directed me to an empty chair facing Gravel before exiting the room. As I sat down, the mounds of paper moved aside, unveiling a pair of green eyes and a slate coat. She quickly arranged some stubborn strands of her frazzled sky blue mane around her horn.

“Pleased to meet ya again Mr. Toffee Brulee!” Gravel shook my hoof violently. “A’hm very happy to say ya now got a job here at my little factory!”

Her cheeriness took me aback. “Why, uh, thanks for accepting me. I’m surprised you would consider a pony like me for your factory.”

She chuckled. “Oh don’t be! We’ve all sorts of ponies here like painters, musicians, even some skilled magic users. I have ‘em all!”

I furrowed my brow. “Really? Why would they be here rather than out there with their special talents?”

Gravel’s smile faded somewhat. “Well...it’s fer the same reason ya gave me at yer interview. These forlorn souls just couldn’t make it in the big cities with a whole buncha other ponies with similar talents.” She sighed deeply and scowled.

The silence thickened for a while, yet her smile returned once again. “Ya don’t want to hear that though, and a’hm sure ya want to get going. Work starts for ya in two days, and make sure yer here before sunrise. Important information is in this folder. Have a good rest of yer day now!”

After receiving the folder and thanking her, I made my way to the factory’s exit, but not before getting lost and finding myself at Gravel’s door again. She snickered at my predicament while she led me to the exit.

“You’ll get used to it, friend. Ya kinda have to now.”

The Beast snored quietly behind me as I left its door and trotted away.

My apartment was not the most comfortable place to live in, but it was at least more affordable than the ones in Manehattan. Luggage made up a majority of the furniture in my otherwise barren abode. I started unpacking, and amongst the many necessities and novelties I saw the fruits of my talent. Candies and chocolates galore of various flavors and textures stared back at me. They were as numerous (and as redundant) as all the sweet shops back...home.

“I’m sure somepony here will appreciate these more than Manehattan did,” I murmured quietly to myself.

As the day began to rest, I managed to fix up my room somewhat, at least enough to sleep in for the night. I decided to celebrate with a favorite candy of mine, caramel chocolate. I bit into the confection and smirked when I saw its altered form. It appeared as a crude mirror of myself with its chocolate coating and caramel mane. The fate of this effigy fell upon my hooves and the poor little sweet could do nothing about it. I shook my head. Consuming the rest of the candy, I looked out the window of my bedroom. The stars were glistening softly amidst the choking darkness as the Moon carried on with its passage.

“Home sweet home, Princessyn.”

Even as the night deepened, I could still feel the rumbling of the Beasts from their secluded and outcast district, but they too went to sleep as dreams festered in my mind.

“Sorry bud, but you gotta pay.”

“I can get the bits later, I swear! I just need another chance!”

“There isn’t any more for you, Toffee. Fact is, nopony wants to buy your candies, therefore you can’t get the lease paid.”

“Please…”

“If you can’t pay, then you better start closing up shop and getting out.”

The landlord leaves.

“...all I want is another chance.”

Upswings and Downfalls

Industrial life became routine in Princessyn. I would wake up early, go to the factory, produce the latest and greatest products, go home, eat, complain about the pain in my hooves, and finally sleep would claim me. This delightful monotony was broken when Gravel called me into her office. It still appeared the same as it had when I was officially employed, as usual. Gravel regarded me with her smile...as usual.

“I’ve some good news for ya Toffee! With the increase of employees in our humble little factory, I’ll be needin’ some more help supervisin’ and managin’ the newbies. Ya’ve been here a good few years now; ya know the ins and outs of this place a good as I do. Why don't ya become a forepony?”

The opportunity was tempting, but the burdens of the past snaked their way into the present. Memories from Manehattan flashed through my mind, reminders of disaster and incompetence. I pressed my lips together and lowered my head.

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think that I am capable of being any sort of manager.”

“Nonsense my friend! Ya’ve got the head fer it, and, with a bit of hard work and determination, ya’ll be a mighty fine forepony.” I stared at her in silence and Gravel sighed. “Look, I know why it seems overwhelmin’ to ya, and ya know what’s the only thing keeping ya back from doing it?” She tapped a hoof on my muzzle. “Why you of course! Look at me, Toffee. I was the odd one out in my earth pony family. I was destined to study rock magics and gemstones. But on my way, I found this factory. And in this factory, I learned to manage things better than I knew my magic. If I can do it, you can do it too.”

“I’m still not so sure, Gravel. Life gave me a small chance with this job. I doubt it's just going to let me flourish. Otherwise, I’d still be in Manehattan.”

She hummed. “How’s about this: why don’t ya take some time to think it over? Ya got all week to tell me.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “Take the day off while yer at it. Ya know, mull things over. I’m sure the Chief and his cronies won’t mind. Them stuckups don’t know anything anyways.”

As I accustomed to life in Princessyn, I noticed distinctions in the sounds of the Beasts. Sometimes they were loud, boisterous symphonies of metallurgy and machinery. At others, they were muffled and reserved as quiet psalms. Today, the Beasts’ noise was of the former description, but, as I listened more closely, I heard the underlying outcries of wrathful ponies. There was a crowd gathered at the entrance of one of the neighboring factories surrounding a pristine, groomed, and immaculately well dressed mare. She addressed the crowd with a haughty voice.

“Lovely workers of mine, there is no need to protest! I am trying my best to keep your wages consistent! Remember that you are all lucky that I had the heart and generosity to offer this work to you bumbling blank flanks!” the pudgy mare shouted to the crowd. “You all remember the importance of keeping the status quo. The harmony of hierarchy is as crucial to paying you as it is to me.”

Her pep talk did little to quell the raging tide of the workers. Numerous voices bellowed back to her.

“You’ve never had our interests or even our necessities in mind you husk!” shouted a stallion.

“Lies! Lies! Lies until the end from this cowardly, spoiled wench!” a mare yelled.

“Let’s teach this hag who really is on top in her little hierarchy!” another shouted.

The throng of ponies descended upon the poor more with terrifying rapidity. I could still hear her pleas for mercy and pity amidst the profane wrath of the workers. In the distance, Guards approached wielding batons and whips, drawn to the commotion. At the sight, I quickly trotted away from the scene lest I be associated with it. To my horror, when I looked back one more time, the horde of ponies did not cease their rage even as the Guards began beating the rioters to the ground.

When I arrived at my poor excuse for a “home”, I decided to have the remainder of my day in relative tranquility. When darkness blanketed Princessyn, I again heard the labor of the late night workers begin. The Beasts howled in anguish throughout the Moon’s journey. Their anger made them hard to ignore, and made it harder to sleep.

Winter's Judgement

Being a forepony was a difficult lifestyle to adopt. My responsibilities became more fragile and delicate than before, but the pain in my hooves went away-- only to be replaced by head splitting migraines. I received respect from my former equals despite our new separation in job class, but the newcomers constantly gave me trouble and viewed me with contempt. Curiously, the new workers were more receptive to Gravel than they were to the rest of the foreponies and I. Every new batch of employees was more emboldened than the last, thus as I gained trust with the previous group, the new one would give me little time to rest.

This difficulty was amplified when the weather teams released far too many rains during the spring, leaving almost no moisture for the summer months. The workers became more irritable and agitated from the scorching heat of the Sun. Complaints were made to the Regent Hall, particularly by the farmers, in Princessyn Square, but the Regent would always dismiss them with empty promises and harmonic rhetoric. Every day, the price of food would rise as acres of crops dried out, further angering the overburdened workers.

Summer overflowed into autumn, this time bringing ire of the higher classes. They bribed and pressured the weather teams to end the heat quickly, rather than to let it fade gradually. With that, Mistress Winter arrived early and with overwhelming fury. Farmers lined the streets of the cities as much as the snow did, begging for mercy and amnesty from their fellow pony. Unfortunately for them, the workers had little to share, and their masters only had scorn to give.

In these cold days (now spilling into late spring), I cherished my breaks with Gravel and the rest of the foreponies in her office. I often brought in trays of candies and sweets for us to enjoy while Gravel brought bottles of hard cider to drink. According to her, “If them pampered Canterlot elites can drink their wines in public, then why can’t us weary workers have some swigs of cider in private?”

The break today, in particular, was more of an impromptu meeting, but also a brush with divine providence. The Chief Executive opened the door before I even had a chance to enter Gravel’s office. This wasn’t the first time I “saw” the Chief, but in those times when he came to inspect the factory I always managed to keep my distance. I cowered from his crushing presence almost to the point of bowing down to my supreme god-king. My eyes dared not to spare a glance at the Chief lest they burn from his impeccable image. I felt his piercing stare bore into the core of my soul, judging me as either capable or useless for his enterprise. The Chief made a noise, as if to say something, but decided against it and simply walked away. Hurriedly, I entered the office and shut the door behind me. Gravel raised an eyebrow upon seeing my disheveled state.

“Hey Toffee! Looks like you saw a ghost or somthin’.” I nodded my head weakly to which she smirked and shook her head. “Well, ya can save yer stories fer later. Right now, we got some stuff to take care of. Have a seat.”

I slumped into the chair, only then noticing that Gravel’s desk has some strange posters resting atop it. They reeked of corporate language and hollow encouragement. Gravel gestured to the many posters.

“The Chief gave me these to ‘encourage the laborers and dissuade dissenters’ or some other such nonsense. He’s gonna check in later to see if they’re up. A’hm givin’ ya the first pick for yer workers.” I began looking them over and chose the less endearing posters while Gravel continued. “He also talked about a contract he made with Gray Design to help ‘em produce guns to ship to Griffonia, so ya’d better add St. Petershoof to the shipments catalog.”

I looked up and furrowed my brow. “Why are we sending weapons to Griffonia? Princess Celestia would have never approved of this.”

Gravel shrugged. “Them griffons like killing each other, so the Chief wants to profit off that. As fer Celestia, she don’t know a thing. Unless ya want to go trottin’ to Canterlot and somehow convince Guards to tell her what’s goin’ on here, yer gonna have to get the Regent to relay a message.” She rolled her eyes. “Too bad the Chief’s sellin’ weapons to the Regent fer her garrison.”

The cold, biting air from outside seemed to crawl into the room. I shuddered. “Why would the Guards need such weapons? They are already capable of keeping the peace as is. This is absolutely ridiculous of her.”

“Toffee, honey, these big wigs are on top not ‘cuz they’re stupid. They know how everypony is gettin’ with this crazy weather.” She pointed to the oval window behind her, its glass frosted white. “My times on the farm have taught me how delicate the Severyana harvestin’ season is. We can’t produce any bountiful crops, but we at least have a whole buncha mediocre ones, and that was just enough to feed everypony here. You’ve seen all them poor farmers out there. If they’re out beggin’, then they’re not farmin’.

My eyes widened, shivering from the cold and the revelation my mind did not want to see. With a quivering voice, I concluded, “And that means no food is being produced.” I recalled the retribution delivered unto the pudgy mare. “They’re preparing for something violent, aren’t they?”

Gravel solemnly nodded at my response. “That and more. If the Guards can show how effective these guns are, then we’re gonna have customers from all over Equestria coming to buy our stuff. We, not including them stuckups, are the lab rats of this whole test of theirs whether we like it or not.” She reclined back and scowled.

Quietness grew in the office and almost drowned out the cold. “There’s a great variety of ponies here too, Gravel. Maybe one of them could use their talent to ease the coming storm?” I suggested. Gravel only scoffed.

“I’ve a better chance of seein’ a Sonic Rainboom.” Her face softened and she sat back up. “But yeah. I guess maybe that could happen. Maybe.”

The Reckoning of Gravel

Princessyn Square, the pride and joy of the city, now was sacred ground that offered nourishment--not without sacrifice of course. Ponies heaved sackfuls of bits, only to receive pathetic amounts of rations in return, meager crumbs still divided among a family. Although life worsened as the months passed, a routine was developed again. I would go to the Square, listen to the rantings of angry ponies while I waited in line, give the merchants half my day’s wages, and finally I would receive a pouch of grain before heading home, the lines still stretching long and thin like a starving snake. Often, I saw many try to bargain with the merchants to no avail. Other delusional ponies, despite the crisis, tried to buy the luxurious machines and novelties the higher class enjoyed, at the cost of their own nutrition.

I frequently zoned out hearing voices of the speakers. However, the listeners today were more impassioned than usual. The stallion orating to them was sleek and dark coated, with an even darker mane and icy, blue eyes. He addressed his amassed audience.

“Comrades! Look at how the bourgeoisie relish with their private granaries and give not even a single grain to aid us in our time of need! Look at how the Regent and her harmony have made us slaves to Equestria, forever producing their necessities and luxuries while leaving us to the shadows! My friend, Steel Stallion, knows this as well as you do. Even now he works to free us from our shackles by planning for a society where all ponies are equal, and not under the rule of Harmonic Monarchists! All he and I ask of you is to take up arms as the proletariat and throw out these capitalist and corrupt vermin!”

The crowd erupted in applause, hooting and hollering for this Steel Stallion. His friend’s speech drew more than just my attention. Guards, wielding new pony adapted pistols and saddles equipped with rifles, approached the crowd.

“That’s enough from you blank flanks, get moving or else we’ll make you wish you could,” their leader commanded.

Some of the more timid ponies, myself included, began to disperse from the area, but a majority of the crowd stayed put. The sounds of the Beasts from their spurned district echoed loudly and pierced the thick silence created by the crowd’s defiance. Seconds slowed to hours as both groups attempted to impose itself on the other. The leader spoke again.

“I’ll say it one more time. Get your jacks out of the area before we make you. The square is for food distribution only. You’re all lucky we haven’t indicted you all for treason for listening to that scum.”

The mass only glared back at the Guards whose weapons were aimed at them. My body froze, morbidly curious to find out the conclusion of this predicament. The leader placated.

“Let it not be known that I am not a stallion of action, especially to the Captain, but I am fair at the very least. Leave. Now.”

“You Guards are as corrupt as the Regent and your greedy Captain!” a voice snapped from the crowd. At this response, the leader turned back to his Guards, stepping aside.

“Guards! Fire at will!”

A cacophony of booms reverberated through the fresh autumn air, as ponies fell like the leaves of trees and scattered as chaotically as dust in the wind. I ran away quickly, hoping that the Guards did not think I was part of the crowd.

Today was a stressful day in the factory, enough that I did not have the chance to greet Gravel when I arrived. Workers and managers alike scurried about preparing for the coming of the Chief Executive. He had never scheduled an inspection, much less with deadlines for us to meet “consumer demands”, which led to many employees experiencing anxiety attacks. I managed to muster some semblance of organization on the main factory floor, but I noticed that the workers seemed to be more on edge than usual. They usually shrugged off the Chief’s arrival better than us managers. Now, they were careful and deliberate in their movements as if any wrong shift of their bodies would jeopardize the future forever. Even the Beast’s industrial heart pumped faintly. Deciding that my efforts were sufficient, I galloped to Gravel’s office for any other tasks she may need done.

Her office was...clean and tidy. Her mane, usually minimally managed, was fixed into a bun, complimenting the business suit she wore. The desk was clear, save for some documents and a briefcase. She turned her head towards the doorway.

“Hello Toffee,” she greeted softly. “Have a seat. I must tell you something.”

I cautiously adjusted myself to the chair facing her, and I cocked my head at Gravel’s new appearance. “What did you need to tell me?”

Gravel sighed. “I need ya...” She cleared her throat. “I need you to take care of my office while I show the Chief around. He wanted to talk with me personally over any gripes that he might find rather than come here to talk about them. Shouldn’t be too long until he arrives.”

“Easy enough.”

Cautiously, her eyes narrowing, she added, “When I come back with him, I’m also going to need you to stand to the right of me when we have our seats and to be silent unless spoken to.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He expects me to have a secretary of sorts and he keeps on nagging about it every visit. For today, you’re the next best thing.”

I nodded my head in acknowledgment. Gravel relaxed a little. “Good. I’ll head downstairs to wait for the Chief. Stay put.” She levitated the briefcase and trotted out the door.

Boredom took hold of me as I waited in the office. I almost fell asleep in one of the chairs until gunshots jolted me out of my fatigued stupor. Fearing that another confrontation between Guards and workers was occurring, I scrambled to the window and observed the outside. Instead, I saw Gravel with another suited pony and his entourage of associates at the makeshift gun range where we would test our factory’s weapons periodically. I sighed in relief, but the lengthiness of their testing kept me anxious. Regardless, my eyelids almost drooped shut, but snapped open when I heard hoofsteps approaching the office’s door. I quickly took my place to the right of Gravel’s chair, anticipating my master and Gravel. The sound of judgment filled the room when the door finally opened.

“The fact of the matter is that you are driving this factory’s profits into the negatives, Miss Bubble! Your demonstration has shown nothing but evidence that your expenses on these...workers have amounted to nothing!”

The Chief Executive appeared in my vision, allowing me to truly see the tamer of life. He was a giant among ponies, dwarfing even Princess Celestia. His black suit and tie consumed the color and soul of his surroundings like an abyss. His eyes held the eternal images of hardships and impossible obstacles that dared to impede him as he soared to great heights. I trembled and shuddered, unable to handle the information my eyes fed to me. In one moment, he could destroy the factory by willing it to do so. By working here, I worked for him. He holds the world in his hooves, and I was only one grain of that control. This seemed to not bother Gravel who spoke to him nonchalantly.

“Sir, I must assure you that this demonstration shows more than what meets the eye.” She sat in her chair and set the briefcase on the desk. “Please have a seat, sir. Some wine perhaps?”

The Chief scowled at her while he sat down. He gave no indication that he noticed I was by Gravel’s side. “I am not as inclined to drink as you are, Miss Bubble. What I want is an explanation as to why I should not fire you at this very moment.”

Gravel chuckled. “Why an explanation when another demonstration could suffice.” She opened the briefcase and pulled out a new model revolver our company was producing. “Sir, if you look closely, you will see the cracks in the metal, deterioration of the hammer, and corrosion of the chambers. These are a mere few examples among the many imperfections of this firearm produced at your most favored factory.”

She levitated the revolver to the Chief who took it in his own majestic aura. As he inspected the weapon, Gravel manipulated another revolver out from the briefcase. A glint from one of the chambers caught the notice of my eye. She spoke again.

“Sir, my factory’s firearms are flawless! Even after one thousand rounds, this one still functions and looks like new.” She cocked the hammer, and the glint disappeared. My breathing slowed almost to a stop. “My expenses are worth it in the long term. My old Pop always said to me that ‘happy workers are good workers’, and good workers can make excellent, durable products. That will create consumer trust in our brand because, sir…” Gravel leveled the revolver at the unsuspecting head of the Chief, still enraptured in the other revolver. Noticing the tension in the air, he looked up from his inspection. “...our revolvers will work every time.”

Divine fury manifested on the Chief’s face. “Miss Gravel Bubble! How dare you point that at me, your superior, of all ponies!”

Gravel’s salespony grin melted into an uncomfortably expressionless form. “Sorry Chief, but ya ain’t that to anypony no more.”

Turning to the Revolution

Despite working in the production of firearms, I had little experience with them. I only ever saw them used on the range or by the Guards. Now, I witnessed a revolver kill a demigod of ponies. The loud bang of the firearm pierced reality itself and caused it to screech in pain as the minuscule bullet toppled a creature that commanded ponykind itself. I trotted over to the lifeless corpse of the Chief. He was just as much a pony as I was, despite the hole in his head. I turned back to Gravel. Her eyes were on the verge of tears, but she did not tremble or betray her steely resolve. A commotion resonated from the factory floor, a mixture of battle-cries, revolution, and more gunshots. Gravel set the revolver back in the briefcase and levitated a sack of bits from one of the filing cabinets.

“My allegiances are obvious now I suppose. Here's enough bits to get ya outta here. Find some small town hamlet that’ll appreciate your candies. I know I did.” She regarded me wistfully. “I don’t want this to be another Manehattan fer ya. I’ll give a chance where life wouldn’t.”

I gawked at my manager turned revolutionary. Her conviction to this cause overshadowed any will I could muster, and she was aware of this. I was lucky to have her as my boss even as she tore apart what once was her endgame. My debts were not paid in Manehattan, but perhaps I could pay this one, albeit gradually.

“And what if I stay with you?” I asked.

Gravel smiled and rolled her eyes. “That’ll be a first then. Fer you anyway. Welp, if ya stay you’ll become an accomplice to what happened here. The courts ain’t nice to ponies involved with hurting their fellows. ‘Specially to politically charged activities like this.” She held a hoof out to me. “So ya want to hop on this Red wagon with me? Or do ya want to get going?”

I shook her hoof slowly. “I’ll be glad to join you, but I’m still not too sure about this whole...resistance of yours.”

“Well, if yer gonna stay yer gonna need somewhere to hide. I’d been plannin’ this with the Reds fer a good few months now, so I know a safehouse we could go hide in.” She beamed. “I suggested this one to them myself.”

Gravel’s little factory was in ruins. Machine parts littered the floor along with puddles of grease and oil. Ponies likewise accompanied the Beast’s organs with their own lifeblood. Some wore business suits, but most wore typical worker’s overalls. Bullet casings were sprinkled across the floor of the abandoned cemetery. The workers wielding makeshift red flags and weapons took to the streets outside, rallying neighboring factories to their cause. The horde grew by the minute and amplified its growth when more Guards arrived to subdue the rioting. Gravel,while carrying the briefcase, led me away from the chaos through alleyways and passages until we arrived at a solitary taxi carriage. The chauffeur regarded us with suspicion.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s time for action,” Gravel replied.

The chauffeur eased up and smiled. “Hop aboard then. Where to, comrades?”

“Rock Pop Farm.”

As the carriage rolled along to the outskirts of Princessyn, the war-cry of the Beast bellowed from the industrial district. It has been galvanized, and the patricians have a right to fear its penance. I murmured quietly, “I will not give up this time, sweet Princessyn”

“Here’s your stop. Please mind the dirt, you two.”

Gravel and I clambered out of the carriage along with the briefcase before the chauffeur trotted off into the distance. In front of us was an abandoned farm, one of many casualties of the titanic weather disaster almost a year ago. A rustic gate signaled the path to the quaint, country home. Gravel gazed longingly towards the barren wasteland of fields.

“A real tragedy, ya know. This place used to farm coal for generations before it had to farm crops since mining industrialized. Too bad that them crops wouldn’t survive that weather screw up.” She prodded a hoof at the dirt. “And neither would them farmers.”

The inside of the home was simpler, yet cozier than my apartment in Princessyn. It’s door opened up to a spacious room that had a dining table to our right and a couple of couches to our left. Ponies were organizing hoards of papers and envelopes at the table. A pegasus mare looked up from her work upon realizing the door opened.

“It’s good to see you again Gravel. It’s also nice to see a new face for the Revolution for a change though. What’s his name?”

Gravel pointed a hoof at me. “This fella here is Toffee. Treat ‘im nice, ya hear?”

The mare waved with her wing. “Well, I’d like to go easy on you, but we gotta get these letters done, so if you’re gonna crash with us, you can at least help us out a bit.”

I nodded. "Sure."

“Alright then. You can get to sealing the envelopes. My tongue’s about to crumble to dust with how dry it is.”

I sat down at the table with Gravel who set the briefcase in the living room area and levitated a pen. She began writing on one of the many blank papers, discussing its message along with some other unicorns. The mare that greeted us folded the papers after they finished writing on them while I placed and sealed the folded letters into envelopes. There was a mild chatter as the repetitive work dragged on. The atmosphere reminded me of the work back at the factory. I looked across the table to Gravel as she scribbled. I pursed my lips.

“What are you writing?” I asked her.

Gravel, without pausing her work, answered with lightheartedness. “Oh, just some messages. We gotta make sure that the other pockets of resistance and safehouses are in the know, particularly when Steel or his companions have somethin’ to say.” She suppressed a snicker and whispered to me. “These ponies here are some of the few that can read and write what with the rampant illiteracy here in Severyana. You can thank the Regent for that by the way. We got some talented artists making posters for the more unschooled folks. There’s a whole lotta ponies in this thing together, and now yer one of ‘em.” Gravel winked at me.

I pondered over the thought of participating in this Revolution. Politics aside, it's invigorated by the will and courage of ponies trapped under life’s boot. These ponies decided that they can do something, even if the world told them that they couldn’t, and they are ready to sacrifice themselves for a goal. Memories of the pudgy manager surfaced. I never did figure out what happened to her after the riot, but I certainly never saw her again after that day. She was drowned by a sea of spirit and ponies. Ponies that, at one point, were mortally terrified at the thought of asking their boss for a raise, let alone complain about wages.

My eyes wandered to the sheen of Gravel’s briefcase, resting on one of the couches like a sleeping guard dog. The power within was a means to control anypony by threats that are backed with the hoof of death, the Great Equalizer. It did not faze the Chief, but it was able to kill him all the same. The splitting sound of the revolver crashed through my mind, echoing with the voices of thousands of angry ponies. Wielding that power was another pony of course--a pony with the grit to fight in the name of action. I savored the thought.

The mare next to me poked my cheek. “What’s with the slack, Toffee? Do you need help with that or what?”

I turned my head towards her. “Oh, sorry. Just dreaming.” My gaze went back to the briefcase and then to the envelopes. “I think I got it now.”

Her silence was unnerving. It made the air unquiet. My new found comrades were made uncomfortable by it. It was unusual.

The first weeks of my stay with the revolutionaries was a smooth transition, despite the fugitive means of living. Everypony enjoyed the tales and jokes of our past lives as we toiled away for the Revolution. Eventually, nopony had any new stories to tell, leaving most of our isolated days in relative quiet. When we did rest, only smalltalk was had, for many of us slept or ate. Gravel was regularly the one to instigate a majority of the talking, much to the tired delight of her listeners. Cheery conversations then became one-sided, desperate attempts for distraction. Gravel would hop and skip from pony to pony with wild subject matters to discuss. Worried by her behavior, some of us decided to confront Gravel in order to figure out why she was acting strangely.

After one of her ecstatic episodes, we found her in one of the bedrooms, staring at the revolver. Seeing our approach, she snapped at us, and demanded we leave her alone. She stayed in the bedroom for the rest of the day. The next morning, she came for breakfast and to aid us with the letters, but when we would finish, Gravel always returned back to the same bedroom. She never made even the slightest noise that would indicate that she at least hadn’t lost her voice. It was a routine I wished to break.

When we finished with the letters for the day, I followed Gravel to the bedroom. When she entered, she sat on the bed and didn’t bother to close and lock the door like before. As I joined her, she levitated the revolver from the briefcase nestled in the corner of the room, and twirled it around in her magic. The intensity in the air outmatched, but carried reminders of the Chief’s presence.

“Nopony told me it’d be harder to deal with after the fact. I hope it’s worth it,” she mumbled.

“That’s all we can do about it, I suppose.”

“Even if we kill for the Revolution?”

I winced. “I guess we have to.” The revolver stopped twirling.

“What if you can’t?”

“You could learn how to hope.”

Gravel gave a mirthless smile. “Where’d that confidence come from?”

“From a mare that promoted me to forepony.”

A moment of pause swelled in the room. Tears welled in Gravel’s eyes, but her voice held firm.

“This house used to be home to family, friends, and love fer many years, ya know. Stayed that way even till the weather disaster. That’s what Pop told me anyway.” She looked down at the floor. “Believe it or not Toffee, but somepony cares fer the Chief, and now he’s as alive as my folks are. It ain’t my place to choose somepony’s...fate like that. It shouldn’t be.” Gravel began to sob. I embraced her, frightened by the image of an unbreakable pony that could tolerate the whips and scorns of life and guide others to that strength, now broken into millions of pieces. Manehatten found its way into the lives of not just myself, but also my closest friends. My eyes burned and my teeth clenched at its audacity. Long ago, Manehattan broke me, but today was a chance to fight against it.

“Life isn’t fair to anypony, Gravel. Not even to the Chief. He was caught in something he never knew would kill him. However, to everypony else, it showed how anypony can kill and humble mighty ponies once thought to be untouchable. It takes a strong will to do that, and you certainly have it.” I sighed. “It’s unfortunate ponies have to die, but for the change this--our Revolution calls for, we will need to do whatever it takes to free ourselves from a ponymade destiny that we were virtually excluded from choosing. That’s what we all want. At least, I think so anyways.” Gravel looked up at me with puffy eyes, her eyes sparkling like green stars. A lazy smile found its way on my face. “I now know now where you found your strength, Gravel, and I thank you for that.”

Our Last Message

Seasons passed, and the autumn of yesteryear descended upon Severyana once again.

The propaganda campaigns of the Revolution succeeded in rousing anti-monarchist sentiments among the more neutral ponies. Although the factory workers and farmers knew of their miserable states, the idea of harmony replaced by radical reforms made many of them hesitant to follow in our hoofsteps. Nonetheless, every month food became more precious and scarce thus sowing the seeds of wrath across Severyana’s disgruntled proletariat. Steel Stallion and his compatriots spread the message of our Revolution to all corners of Severyana from St. Petershoof to Sovenok. News from our “mailponies” traveling to and from Princessyn would often tell us of protests erupting all over the city. First they began as a few desperate beggars harassing the Regent Hall, then, as time passed, great masses would form, brimming with ponies invigorated with the courage to oppose their masters.

I entered the country home, finished with notifying the last of the messengers with some important developments. The home was devoid of ponies except for Gravel who reclined on one of the timeworn couches. The revolver laid next to her. I expected this loneliness, but I was still worried of it, for it signaled the beginning of our mission. Crimson sunlight cast rays through the windows, covering the room with shadows and blood.

“Have you seen any patrols yet, Gravel?” I asked as I sat next to her.

“There’s more of ‘em than yesterday. They haven't got close, but they’ll arrive soon methinks. Ain’t nowhere else to search.” Gravel stared at the ceiling of the living room and sighed. “Are ya ready?”

“I’d like to think so. Was everypony else ready?”

She sighed. “Toffee, they’ve been ready fer a long time now. Most of ‘em just didn’t know it for a while.”

We waited in the living room while the Sun lowered it’s burning visage. The sounds of Guards and carriages approached, yet we made no effort to flee. Suddenly, the door flew out into the house with a swarm of splinters and magical energy. Ponies rushed through the empty doorway, barking commands and brandishing firearms. The cloud of filth subsided, revealing a squad of Guards. Gravel and I stared at them. One of them came forward.

“Your days of hiding from the justice of harmony are up, vile dissenters! Especially for you, Gravel Bubble!” Some of the accompanying Guards began to shackle us. “You should have followed in the hoofsteps of your mailpony friend. Perhaps then you could have gone back to Princessyn as free ponies, but it seems to me that you both don’t deserve that.”

The bayonets of our escorts politely jabbed us to an awaiting metal cage outside of the home. Its interior was rusty with scratches of struggle adorning the iron bars serving as walls. Our hoofsteps made the shoddy carriage wail and screech in pain. Its gate shut close, and the carriage began moving, its cargo now loaded. Observing it through the cage’s numerous openings, Gravel mourned her second departure from the home. The only part of her that remained there was the revolver she hid in the time forsaken family couch.

Princessyn was never a quiet city, even while the Moon replaced the Sun. So called “Night-Mares” were typical accompaniment to the drinking, singing, and laughing at the numerous taverns in the city. Now the empty streets, bathed in gloom shades, were lacking any indications that ponies lived here, aside from the litter. I gazed up at the stars and the Mare in the Moon. She returned the gaze as if to sympathize with my current imprisonment. The carriage passed by the elusive industrial district, from which a dapper mare, grief in her eyes, was leaving. She glanced at me, but kept staring at Gravel maliciously until we were out of her sight.

The carriage lurched suddenly, signaling the arrival of our destination. Before me was a fortress of stone, iron mines, and broken souls. Our Guards promptly led us inside through a series of corridors and stairways until we arrived at an atrium lined with cells on top of cells on either side and catwalks leading to the higher alcoves. The Guards took us through this Grand Hallway until we arrived at one of the cells on the ground floor. A prisoner already resided within, but he kept his distance from us when we were tossed into his previously solitary cell. One of the Guards spat at us.

“Get used to your new home. You’ll be seeing and working it for the rest of your lives. A fitting punishment for trying to disrupt harmony, don’t you think?” She cackled at our glares before shutting the iron bar gate and left with her companions. Once they were out of earshot, Gravel and I laughed quietly to ourselves. I was the first to regain my senses.

“Right. So we’re in. When do we start, Gravel?”

She wiped a tear from suppressing her giggling. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now. We got plenty of time to take care of this. ‘Sides, Steel Stallion’s gonna need quite a bit to prepare for his master plan.” She grinned deviously. “They haven’t broken us, Toffee, and we ain’t gonna let ‘em.”

I returned the expression. “We certainly won’t.” In the dim light of lanterns, I could barely see the rest of the inmates in their cells, but their forms were that of normal ponies. Some I could even recognize as the mailponies that once delivered our messages. “This place is burning with potential. We just got to help them realize that.”

Gravel yawned. “We can’t do that without some shut-eye though. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll plan tomorrow.”

Although the cold nipped at me through the pathetic blankets provided by the more miserable cots, the warmness of my spirit comforted me throughout the night. The Beasts were also quiet, almost dead, but I knew they were ready to pounce.

“ I want that jill of a mare dead! She can’t get away with murder like this!”

“Calm down Ma’am. She’ll be punished accordingly, but even as bad as she is, we can’t just spontaneously execute ponies.”

“Not even for bits?”

“You would have to take those to the courts, Ma’am.”

“Hmph. I suppose I’ll have to stop my weekly ‘subsidies’ to your ‘retirement plan’ then.”

“On second thought, I can make an exception for you. I think I just understood the urgency of this late justice.”

“I’m glad you see reason, Warden. Now my husband can rest in peace once you rid the world of that...mare.”

And so Fate Casts its Verdict

Gravel is gone.

Guards came to our cell the following morning. “Good news, Gravel! A certain somepony decided to make a generous donation to shorten your sentence. Your time here ends today.”

They quickly took Gravel to the Grand Hallway and into the depths of the prison. I raised an eyebrow as I saw them leave.

“Who would pay to set her free?” I whispered to myself. A raspy voice from behind me answered.

“They aren’t gonna set her free, comrade.”

I turned around and saw the malnourished inmate.

“What do you mean?”

“Ponies don’t just drop a load of bits to get a criminal out of jail these days. Especially one like your friend, Gravel. Everypony knows what she did back when. My guess is she made somepony specific real angry, and they held a grudge long enough till today to bribe for her execution.” The stallion coughed violently. “Wouldn’t be the first time this happened, but it never occurred so quickly before.”

I froze. My breath stopped and my mind began shattering. Tears formed for the first time since Manehattan. My body collapsed onto the cold, stone floor, as my soul drifted into a sea of senselessness. The inmate only observed me, unable to give sympathy anymore.

Gravel Bubble; my guiding light.

She is dead now, and there is nothing I can do about it.

Shining from Darkness

Time was lost to me. I barely noticed winter and almost didn’t mind the bitter conditions of my cell or the cruelties from the Guards. They found a wicked enjoyment in trying to make me feel anything, but even that soon bored them. When winter gave way to spring, I cursed the sweltering heat of the Sun. Everyday I would blaspheme its warmth while I prayed to the coolness of night and its Moon.

I was outside pulling carts full of ore when my eyes were shot by the gleam of metal, amplified by the light of the Sun. My head turned towards the offending object that dared to mock me. It came from the hostler of a Guard, who oversaw the activities of our work. His revolver stuck out slightly and exposed a portion of its frame. The glaring shine pierced deep into my eyes and burned away the muddy sluggishness that addled my dismal mind.

Behind that facade of misery I saw multitudes of scenes depicting Gravel’s revolver felling the Chief Executive. Its roar exploded through my ears again and again as the Chief died each time the memories repeated. I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth while I massaged my throbbing head. The recollections finally converged into a singular image of Gravel firing the revolver at a glass abyss. As the shards rained down, a metal factory door appeared. She pointed a hoof to it.

“Yer still here, Toffee. Even now, there’s a chance.”

I approached the door and knocked. It responded with a gruff voice..

“What do you want?”

I blinked only to see that I had trotted to the Guard with the revolver. His face remained stoic, but irritated. I reeled back a little and glanced at his firearm.

“Just wanted to say what nice gun you got there. I’ve heard Steel Stallion talk about how powerful and useful they are,” I said sheepishly.

“He’ll see that for himself if he keeps his antics up,” the Guard sneered. “Don’t you got something more important to do, blank flank? Get out of my sight before I show you what my guncan do.”

“I certainly do, sir.”

I bowed before leaving him not for respect, but instead to hide my growing smirk. Steel Stallion still lived and the Revolution continued to persist without me. I wasted enough of my time away from it with my moping. Ponies milled about near the entrance of the penitentiary iron mine. Gravel and I came here to rekindle the fire of the Revolution, but now that duty fell upon me alone.

The Cost of Dreaming

The end of my mission in the prison approached when winter returned. More ponies, friends of the Revolution, were brought branded as criminals and were left to rot with the rest of us. They reported on the events transpiring in Pricessyn. Protests increased in frequency, and often devolved into bloody riots. Many of the new prisoners were often stragglers from those battles. Rumors spread of a great protest, organized by Steel Stallion himself, that would march to Regent Hall on the night of Hearth's Warming Eve, as an act of civil disobedience. The number of Guards in the prison lessened to aid in suppressing the resistance as the Beasts of Princessyn fought against its masters.. Every day, the conditions for our plan ripened.

On the supposed day of the great protest, the afternoon was filled with the sounds of violence and war. Almost instantaneously, scores of ponies were brought to fill the cells. I questioned one of them.

“What’s going on out there?”

“The great protest, comrade! When we tried to get past the Guards to get to the Square, a unit of the Captain’s personal army arrived and fired upon us! They have reinforcements on the way and have taken much of the city. We are fighting them with all our might, but each skirmish demands a payment of blood from both sides of the battle-lines.”

I put a hoof on her shoulder. “Worry not, friend. They’re gonna get a great payment from us.”

Night came to Princessyn, and with it was our mandatory sleep period monitored by a dwindling number of overburdened, tense Guards. My inmates slept in their cots while I banged on the iron bars a spoon I smuggled from the canteen. I hooted and hollered into the Great Hallway, attracting the attention of two patrolling Guards.

“Hey you! Shut up and get back to sleep!” One commanded, her eyes bloodshot from fatigue.

I backed up deeper into the cell and glared at her.

“Make me.”

She gave a bitter smirk. “You asked for it.” She unholstered her issued revolver and aimed it at me. My cocky act was almost betrayed by beads of sweat forming on my forehead and the shakiness in my legs. I had not the fortitude of the Chief, but I did have the foresight of this threat. The Guard motioned for her partner, but as he came in with a baton, I saw a stirring in the cots next to me. My inmates pounced on both of the Guards and tightened blankets around their necks. The Guards choked and sputtered until they could no more. Gunfire echoed from within the streets of Princessyn.

I scavenged the revolver from the fallen patrol and equipped its holster. My accomplices took a ring of keys from them. We entered into the Grand Hallway where we were in view of most of the cells. I gestured to my inmates.

“The others will check on the patrol soon I wager. Lock and block the entrance before we start freeing the rest of our comrades.”

“No problem, Toffee.”

Newly freed prisoners began pouring out onto the floor of the Grand Hallway wielding makeshift weapons that were scavenged and crafted over a course of months. Shouting and clanging came from the barricaded metal doors that led into the prison proper. I gathered my band of freedom fighters.

“Take each side of the doors, and wait for them to enter.”

Ponies scurried to their positions, and waited in ambush. Seconds stretched to minutes as the clanging continued relentlessly. The doors flung open abruptly, throwing debris and Guards out into the Grand Hallway. Their rapid entry temporarily blinded them of their exposed flanks. Inmates crushed the Guards from either side, beating them with rocks, thrusting with sharpened spoons, and slashing with stolen knives until our great mass pushed them back through the doorway.

We trampled and mangled the desecrated bodies of the Guards, their few numbers unable to hold us back. My comrades delved into the prison as they raided its chambers and liberated the rest of its inhabitants. Horns blared in alarm, rousing the garrisoned reserves of the jail’s Guards. In the chaos, I assembled a small army of inmates and led them into the barracks area. The intensity of the Guards increased as we penetrated deeper into their quarters. My revolver’s ammunition became scarce, for the Guards began deploying with rifles to stop our advance. Wounds appeared on my body while my compatriots fell one by one. Blood streamed the lacerations that uncovered flesh and bone.

I slumped my back onto the awesome door of the armory, streaking it with a sanguine red. War-cries resonated through the empty halls of the barracks, yet the scattered dead did not respond to them. Summoning the vestiges of my strength, I opened the armory with the keys from a lifeless Guard. Firearms stood at attention among racks, glittering like jewels in the flickering light of lanterns. Remnants of my cadre limped and shuffled into the holy room. A few of them unfolded blankets and set to work pilfering its contents while others tended to my injuries. We dragged and pushed sackfuls of weapons along with crates of their ammunition to our fellow inmates.

Newly equipped with the proper implements of Revolution, our great horde overwhelmed the Guards and sent them retreating out into the ruined city of Princessyn. My brothers and sisters in arms followed me outside into the biting cold of winter and we marched towards the melodies of battle. Although the prison was liberated, our work was not yet done.

My sweet Princessyn wore the scars of combat. Guards and revolutionaries littered the streets and were as numerous as the brass casings. Banners protesting the Regent clung to the dead buildings, and signs, splattered with blood, were still clutched in the hooves of their deceased creators. The frequency of bodies increased as my shoddy army trudged through the city-wide graveyard battlefield. Some of my group added their own selves to the frozen landscape.

We approached the frontlines of the battle from behind the Guards. Officers looked back in shock at our relentless legion of bloody, battered ponies shrouded in darkness and risen from the dead. Our sudden appearance was made clear to the rest of the soldiery which then began retreating from their fortification to their secured areas of Princessyn. We charged viciously into their rout, ensuring that few of them would escape. When the bloodshed sank into the snow, ponies, led by a stallion, climbed over the barricades to praise our timely arrival. I recognized him as one of Steel Stallion’s companions, so I made my way over to shake his hoof.

“Pleased to finally meet you, Vasily. I hope my little company of prisoners wasn’t too late,” I sputtered between coughs.

He smiled warmly. “They certainly weren’t, comrade. But we mustn't bask in our victory now. We still have a city to take.”

Our breakthrough triggered a collapse of the Guard's battle-lines for our amassed forces pierced into the line’s now vulnerable flanks. Revolutionaries fought fiercely against the Guards, often resorting to using the rifles as spears and the pistols as clubs when ammunition diminished. Adrenaline alone, fueled by carnage and hope, carried my body. The further we pushed towards the Square, the more merciless we became. For every stretch of city we freed, I endured more wounds and drowned deeper in my blood. When we did arrive at the Square, we found its entrances blocked with ramparts of rubble. A rolling thunder came from behind us in the streets of the city. Vasily yelled over the cry of the Revolution.

“Steady yourselves, comrades! Steel Stallion has brought a solution to our problem!”

Trailing our warpath was a great, steel Beast covered in scorch marks and scratches, it’s tractor body topped with a head-like turret. Its metal belts moved it along slowly, but inevitably as dark smoke belched from its exhaust. The Beast smashed through the barrier effortlessly and shrugged off the incoming gunfire from the Guards in the Square.

Swathes of the remaining defenders surrendered while others retreated into the Regent Hall, the last connection Princess had to Royal Equestria. Ponies with pyromancies and crude firebombs assaulted the grossly imposing sight of the building, setting it aflame. A sickly pony appeared from the head of the Beast and surveyed the Square crowded with rebels illuminated by the fiery Hall. Hidden within the crowd, a mare with mismatching eye colors approached him, and whispered something to the Stallion. He nodded in approval and climbed out onto the top of the machine.

“Comrades! Altidiya has informed me that the Equestrian Guard has begun withdrawing from Princessyn!”

Cheers and applause filled the Square for the first time in many years. He continued.

“Do not rest now friends! Our Revolution is still being fought in the harbors of Saint Petershoof, the factories of Konzan, and all of Severyana! We, the ponies, have defeated the might of the bourgeois Guard. No amount of bits can save them or their selfish masters from the will of the proletariat! Prepare my brothers and sisters in arms, for our fight has only begun!”

The Square erupted again with hurrahs and cheers while the Regent Hall smoldered and crumbled back to the same dirt and dust Princessyn was built upon. Tonight was our victory; my last victory.

My usefulness to the Revolution slowly waned. I coughed and hobbled to the industrial district, though my injuries demanded that I rest. Each factory I passed showed signs of a brutal struggle. I eventually found myself at one particular factory, the only one that I would know its corridors and stairways.

The innards of my little factory harbored a state of neglect. Rust infested the machines and rubbish covered the floor along with the dead. In contrast, the manager’s office was virtually untouched, refurbished even, despite the broken window stained with blood. A picture of the Chief hung in view of where the manager would sit. Gravel’s ornate desk remained in the same position, as if this was how it always existed. I dragged my grisly legs towards the chair that once seated Gravel. It felt the same as the other one.

My eyes drooped shut, finally giving in to exhaustion while I reclined. Darkness enveloped the office and my decrepit body. As life’s grip weakened on me, an amused voice spoke aloud.

“Ya know this fight ain’t over yet, Toffee.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Then what are ya doin’ here?”

“Resting.”

“If ya stop, ya won’t be able to get goin’ again.”

“At this rate, I wouldn’t get too far anyway.”

The voice laughed and the darkness was accompanied with a soothing glow. “I guess ya did earn it. Getting them prisoners organized and takin’ the city must’ve been hard without me.”

My eyes finally opened. The country home felt snug and the sun shined majestically through the windows. Gravel sat next to me on the sofa, her moistened eyes shining like the gleam of the revolver. I chuckled.

“It certainly was. Now they can help give another chance to the forlorn ponies of Severyana...just like how you gave it to me.”

She hugged me tightly, yet her touch felt distant and cold. “A’hm guessin’ you gotta get back to ‘em then.”

I stroked her mane. “I think our Revolution will prevail with or without me, but I don’t want to give fate the opportunity to ruin it in front of me.” Her embrace became warmer for every word I spoke. “Besides, this place is my refuge from it. Our refuge.”

Tears streaming, Gravel gazed into my eyes. “Yer finally home, Toffee!”

“Home sweet home, Gravel.”