From the war tent strode a goliath of a stallion, a bulky earth pony of great strength and build. He was clad in light armour and robed in common desert wear. His face was partly obscured by his red unkempt mane but his eyes still burnt with a blazing yellow. He looked eagerly across the far reaching sands, his gaze tracking across the many miles of endless desert. He grumbled under his breath, annoyed at the seemingly non-existent pace they were making. How long does it take to reach the port on hoof?

He re-entered his tent, throwing his annoying headdress to the side. Resting his hooves on his bedside, the stallion rubbed his temples as to fight back the blistering heat. Pain coursed through his skull, causing him to bear his teeth and clench his yellow eyes shut.

Damn the accursed sun, it will be more fitting once we have left this land long behind, never to return. Leave this country to rot for all I care, just show me a place that instant bathed in heat across the year.

From the tents entrance arrived a much smaller stallion, when compared to the behemoth sitting on the bedside. He was also dressed in traditional desert wear but with a significant amount less armour. Common soldiery then. He bowed low as he entered, avoiding eye contact as he spoke.

“Lord Sil Ran, scouts have confirmed that the coast is at least 20 miles to the west of our location. We should be arriving by nightfall.”

Sil Ran looked up from the ground and caught eye sight of the soldier. What a scrawny little runt he was, nearly trembling before the might that he bore. “Good, very good. Now go, and bring me Khan. I desire his council.”

“Yes my lord.” The soldier scampered off no sooner had he finished speaking, a deep sigh of relief escaping him as he exited the war tent. Sil Ran chuckled under his breath, amused that his reputation was still held in line firmly. But now his heavy mind turned to other thoughts, more prominently the war that lay ahead of him. The brashness and the overconfidence of their leader was obvious, bearing no second thoughts other than a sure victory ahead. Typical of his type, always so narrow minded.

His second in command though was another story entirely. Azzal Khan, faithful servant to Sil Ran for many years. Very little is known about this elusive character other than he knows how to get his way when he wants it. While he may appear fiercely loyal to his master, he speaks with a deadly silver tongue. Cunning, slippery and yet dangerous all the same.

Azzal bore many wounds and scars standing testament to his many close calls. Like cave drawings etched on a wall, each told its own story. His mane was a dirty charcoal black, his coat a faded white. He adorned his desert robes and wore light armour across his chest and legs. His eyes on the other hoof were brilliant blue, deep pools of turquoise light that seemed to captivate those who looked into them.

As Azzal parted the tents entrance, Sil Ran covered his eyes from the ray of light that crept through the canvas. Azzal looked to his master in a false sense of concern, playing his words carefully. “You are weary and tires, my lord. You should rest your hooves if you are to be prepared for the coming battle.”

“I can do just fine without it, Khan. I did not call you hear so you could express your concerns for my well being. Sit down and listen for a moment.” Azzal did what he was told, his gaze locked with Sil Ran as he did so.

“What troubles your mind? I have assured you victory was certain, there is simply no chance that they could mass a force greater than our own. The odds are-“

“Silence Khan! Save your lectures, for I have heard enough of your rambling. Shut your mouth for a second and let me speak.” The Khan was silent, Sil Ran taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Azzal, you have served me for nearly four years now and my father before me.  Your council has always proved valuable in these times. If it were not for you I would not have known of the land of Equestria.”

Azzal sat with an unnatural silence, still holding an uneasy gaze with his master. “My travels have ranged far across the known world. I have seen the high peaks of Canterlot and I have seen them mock us from their towers.”

“So you have said. But what weighs my mind is no fear of the coming battle; it is my own servants that worry me. I do not know how strong their loyalty is to me and I fear they will not go down fighting. My generals would stab me in the back first chance; my soldiers would turn and flee at any sign of weakness. I’m losing my own ponies before the war has even begun. That is what I fear.”

It must be great to bring such a powerful lord to worry. Azzal thought hard for a second, his words chosen carefully. “Your ponies would die for you, each mare and stallion willing to lay down their lives for their land. If it is true that this worries you then let me address the soldiers, allow me to show them where their loyalties lie. I would hate to see you in this state for long.”

“You? What help would that be? If I am to show them who is in command it cannot be done with words alone.”

“My lord, you would be surprised what words alone can accomplish.” With that he took his leave, turning to face the exit of the tent. Looking back for one last time to his master he let his hollow words fall of his tongue. “Be sure you do rest before we depart. One would hate to be tired for the long journey.”

Sil Ran cast his gaze away from Azzal, letting out a deep grunt as he did so. Was it possible to trust somepony and yet despise them? Certainly that is how he felt towards him. He was wise and his words held him captive, but he was a liar and a cheat. Could he be trusted?

Another days march across the wastes, 800 ponies in light armour across the endless scorching deserts. Even by the eastern standards this heat was unimaginable. Some soldiers had to be carried part of the way after passing out. Water was scarce and soon they would not have enough for the entire journey to the coast. Sil Ran felt a very uneasy chill in his spine at fear any second they may turn on him. His head still throbbed relentlessly and his constant worry only worsened it.

Azzal almost felt amused that such a big guy could be so intimidated by fear of revolt, all of it adding to his paranoia. He knew it was true that his soldiers did hate Sil Ran, being ill prepared for travel and forcing them to cross many miles of desert in full gear. All Azzal needed to do was tip the iceberg at the right moment and everything would turnover smoothly. But that time had not yet come, for now the ports were in sight. The soldiers picked up pace, eager to refill their canteens in the stream that flowed into the sea. Sil Ran let out a sigh of relief, loosening the cloth around his neck as they approached the coast line.

The port itself nothing special, a few stone huts backed by rickety docks. But what was anchored here made all the difference. Over 30 great vessels bore the symbol of the eastern lands on their sails. Once they had regrouped and their provisions rationed out they would be ready to set off. Each mare and stallion took up oar and prepared to row at full haste. Sil Ran looked out across the sea, a new eagerness filling him as he could taste the battle to come.

He had only fought in small tribal wars before, none so titanic as the united clans rallying under one banner. Azzal remained amongst the soldiery, although his intentions remained unknown. At this point Sil Ran cared little as to why, for he was far too consumed in the prospect of glory. Equestria would soon be his for the taking.

Next Chapter: Unrest at Sea Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 34 Minutes