Work Text:
Napoleon had it all now. The farm was prosperous, better organised, and with the help of Mr. Pilkington, had two new fields, but most importantly, the windmill was finally built. Again. “Death to Frederick” was still etched in Napoleon’s mind. However, none of that mattered anymore though because Napoleon–and by extension, the other pigs–were filthy fricking rich. In fact, the other animals, excluding the pigs, of course, were already building yet another windmill. Even more profit. All of which went straight to the pigs.
But despite all this money, fame, and his brand new “friends”, Napoleon still felt that something was missing.
Someone.
Napoleon, standing on his two legs with a pipe in his trotter, looked out of his office’s window. His hooves shifted the pipe a bit as he used his other “hand” to light it. He exhaled a bit of smoke before opening the window, watching as the grey smoke drifted through the open shaft. He saw the other animals hard at work making that new windmill. Then, his eyes drifted to the untouched land beyond the farm.
Suddenly, the door slowly creaked open and in came Squealer. His balance on his two legs still wonky despite all the time that had passed. Which was probably due to all the milk, apples, and whiskey which he always seemed to hog, since it was clear to the others that he was more on the heavier side compared to the other pigs.
The mysterious Berkshire pig kept his back turned away from his comrade as he continued smoking his pipe, watching as the wind mixed and blew the smoke around until it was no more.
“Progress on the new windmill is steady, Comrade Napoleon.”
The round porker reported as he saluted his leader. Looking around his office, he saw all the medals and decorations that his leader had rightfully earned over the years. The neighbouring farms could only wish to be as successful as Animal Farm Manor Farm.
After a few moments of silence, the esteemed leader finally spoke, his eyes never leaving the horizon past the farm.
“Do you know why we build these windmills, comrade? Why I chose to keep building them even when that bastard Frederick blew it up?”
The other pig’s eyes lit up like he’d been waiting for this question to be asked.
“It’s to prove that we animals could–”
“Wrong.”
Napoleon finally turned around, adjusting his suit. He placed his pipe on his desk, small flakes of leftover tobacco sprinkling onto the original plans for the windmill.
Snowball’s original plans for the windmill.
Napoleon adjusted one of the medals on his suit, his right hand man staring at him in awe, ready to worship and spread any wise words he was going to say.
“We are no longer animals, comrade. We have evolved beyond that. Animals walk on four legs, they’re uneducated, naive creatures. We walk on two legs, are very educated, and are brilliant, complex individuals. It’s why we lead the lower class, it’s why I have become the face of our farm. Every day, other farms try taking our title as the most successful one out there, but we don’t let them. We won’t let them. You know, us pigs are no different from man, and man is no different from pigs. We are one in the same, comrade. You have seen it with your own eyes.”
Napoleon glanced over to the windmill’s blueprint. He looked around at his achievements, wars he won, times where his leadership led to the farm’s success. He then remembered why he did all this. Not for Old Major, not for the farm, but for him.
Squealer watched as Napoleon placed both his hands on his back, walking back over to the windowsill. The sun was beginning to set and some of the animals began retreating to their designated areas.
Napoleon stood staring out at something just beyond his reach, his eyes finally looking at ease and not on guard, no longer waiting for an attack that will never arrive.
“When Frederick blew up our windmill, the blast was so loud I believed that everyone in England had to have seen or heard it. Everyone including him. It’s why I chose to build another and another windmill. Maybe if I build enough, he will return.”
“We all miss Old Major dearly, comrade, but it’s certain that he’ll never return. I’m sure he’d be proud of all the work you’ve made thus far though, sir! Surely, the blast must’ve shook the heavens and he saw it.”
“You obtuse oaf, I wasn’t referring to that worn down, old boar!”
The room fell silent, only the wind rustling the leaves of the trees could be heard. Napoleon reached out his hoof towards the forest, towards the pasture and the all too familiar the hole in the hedge.
“All of this was for him.”
Napoleon said, gesturing to the farm. The farm that he fixed with his leadership.
“Every stone that these animals place, every windmill that will be made on this land, every penny I make. It was all for him. Surely, he has to return. Those windmills weren’t made in order to help enrich the farm, it was built in the hopes that maybe he’d hear the news and return.”
Squealer finally seemed to understand. The information finally seemed to enter his thick skull.
“I’ve built all these things for him, become the most successful farm on this side of England, rivaled Pilkington, Frederick, Jones, and the other farmers, all for him. Yet there’s still no news of his return, or presence at all. He left me with the mess he made and now he wants to run away. I’ve gotten all these things for him and now he just wants to leave this all behind.”
“You seriously can’t be talking about that traitor, comrade. You sent the dogs after him, got him exiled. For all we know he could be–”
Squealer stopped talking. He knew that if he uttered another word, he might be the next exiled one. Nobody disagreed with Napoleon. If he said white was black, it was.
“Why do you think I’d only reward the animal that brought him back dead half as much as the one that brought him back alive? I know he’ll be back. Once I become the richest individual in all of England, richer than all the humans, he’ll rear his head around the corner and see I was right all along. Plus, I think I know of a way to get him to return, to find out his whereabouts.”
“Should we send the dogs back out for him?”
Squealer was definitely not on board with the return of Snowball. He was jealous that he was occupying Napoleon’s mind and not him. He was meant to be Napoleon’s number two, his trusted confidante. The silver-tongued speaker that spoke for him while he chose to watch from the shadows. In fact, some of the animals had never seen Napoleon due to how much he’s isolated and hidden himself away from the rest of the farm.
He was a legend, the father of all animals, protector of the sheep-fold, the glorious leader of the farm.
The Great Napoleon.
Napoleon shook his head before finally turning around to face his comrade. His serious demeanor returned.
“There’s no need. In fact, there’s a message I want you to tell the pigeons to send to the neighbouring farms. I then want that message to be spread as far and wide as possible.”
Squealer listened intently, ready to fulfill his duty even if it was a dumb idea. But Napoleon was always right, so there was no need to argue with him.
That was Snowball’s job after all.
“I want you to tell the pigeons to spread the message that Manor Farm is throwing a party to celebrate its achievements and anyone is invited, both humans and animals.”
Squealer nodded as he prepared to leave, but not before adding his own thoughts on the matter.
“Comrade Napoleon, you can’t repeat the past.”
The door closed and Napoleon was left alone once more.
He scoffed at the idea.
“Can’t repeat the past…”