On the Outskirts  of the tribal lands borders, there were two sub-tribes as different as earth and sky. The names of the lands inhabited by these were Gildentundra and Farreach Valley. Gildentundra was an even frostier waste then the Main Realms; its lesser peaks were filled with ruined fortresses, whereas its colossal peaks and frozen-waste ever-frost were abound in ore and few in cave-towns. In the era preceding our Triarchy of Equestria, land governed by the Council; there was said to be no Harmony of any kind in the closed and bickering Tribes. But, alas, the pony who said that is wrong! For there was a fragile peace even then. In the barren lands north there was the valley of Farreach, untouched by snow. This land was lacking in gems, but rich in fertility, peat, and timber. Hidden from the hateful outer world Farreach developed in a manner that made it quite modern compared to elsewhere. This paradise was home to both unicorn and earth pony unlike its divided and distant neighbors. The inhabitants lived in peace while they dwelled in sod-and-peat halls dotted with wildflowers and an unknown concept at the time.

The concept of green.

  Now, I shall remind you the Mother of Modern Magics, Clover the Clever has a green mane. But, at the time of these events before her birth where ‘green’ only existed in the Farreach and the unknown worlds. This is why the world of Farreach, living up its name so Far from Reach, seemed like such a foal's tale when stories of it did leak out, which were few. Thus, it was dismissed as one.

Until…

Until, unbeknownst to all in the Northern Lands that worlds away in Gildentundra this ‘foal's tale’ reached the wrong ears.

But first, Hearth-reader let us spin the tale of Gildentundra; a coarse piece of cloth indeed.    

  The only place in this Lordedom with dwellers was the chief arrondissement of the Gildebloode Clan and their manor, Crooked Glacier.

Crooked Glacier Manor sat on a large ledge of one of the lesser peaks, overshadowed and wedged between a larger one. Below was a gutted quarry, the mines, and other use-less caves which also housed the serfs for there was no mud or even a modest few sticks to build an abode.

The manor however extravagant was not welcoming. It was cold and dim and made out of nothing but stone. Even the furniture was made of thick stone, improved only by small wool cushions and dully dyed tapestries depicting haughty, glaring images of past lords and their court. Due to the lack of timber nothing but a dreadful ash-spewing coal and curious varieties of flint could be; thus staining the tapestries and stone walls black. Even less welcoming was the previously mentioned location.

  The angle at which the manor was placed, wedged in-between two peaks, was poorly chosen for the angle ensured that  the manor-dwellers would feel nothing but itchy soot and cold biting winds that were said to be fiercer then a Windigo's breath. The larger of these mountains was rich in gold ore and when, if ever, the sun poked through the artic blizzards at just the right angle, the surface pockets would gleam with such a harsh light that in the cave-towns and mine-shafts the serfs acquired a repulsive squint.

  Now the current owner of the aforementioned Gildebloode manor with its blackened walls and gemstone mosaics was a unicorn stallion by the name of Lord Silvedas-Vainblade Gildebloode.  Lord Vainblade was a pony with an immense ego.  While this trait is his most prominent others were present  as well, even if some had faded from common knowledge. Although his character has survived this test his  physical description is lost to time. Vainblade, as the name implies was a shallow, vain, self-absorbed, and cruel and among others mostly known for his most noticeable trait: his greed, which was a horrifying unquenchable and unending force refelected well in his attire. He was garbed in the most exaggerated robes and carried the family blade, Frostseeper, only for show. Frostseeper, a jeweled hilted treasure with a blue and gold blade. Its pommel, adorned with the clan symbol - a gem replica of an Artic Goldpath flower - with the depressing appearance of a gilded snowflake was the only light in Gildentundra. His second family heirloom was a sheet of glossy dragon scales tampered into a fine cuirass which was more of a banquet item rather than respectable armour.

  But, despite all his cruelty and petty behaviors he knew one thing: He wouldn’t live forever. He needed a son to inherit the land.

So over this matter he obsessed for he found all the mares in his realms and other neighboring ones ugly and unworthy of his time.

It was then that he heard of the land of Farreach in its fantasy like existence. He wasted no time to prepare a caravan to go scouting in the rumored location. He readied a cartographer, a herald and serfs with provisions to go see this northwestern land for it was unknown if such a fantasy could exist.

This would be ‘happily ever after’ Vainblade thought. Alas, for Gildentundra, for it would be anything but for him, his land, and his bride-to-be.

That was when a blast of magic sent me into the book.

Next Chapter: Chapter 6: A Blast Into Farreach Past Estimated time remaining: 48 Minutes