The sleek metallic shell of the Talon slid across Sil Ran’s hoof, it’s claws falling limply as he rested it against the desk. Even in his own hooves it became tiresome to wield after sometime, it severed more as an icon than a weapon of sorts. He had grown restless since Azzal departed for Canterlot, unable to keep his hooves fixed in position. His own mental strength was waning, for never had he been surrounded by so many of his former enemies. The tribes of the East were rallied under a single banner by means of an uneasy alliance. The promise was that of conquest, the chance of claiming a new home. Azzal had spoken much of Equestria, enchanting all he spoke to of its beauty. Oh how they longed for it. Of course it also presented the opportunity to expand Sil Ran’s wealth, but the thought of gold and jewels was no longer crossing his small mind.

Who was Azzal Khan? One day he simply wandered into the capital as if out of nowhere. No pony truly understands where he came from or why he chose to travel east, but somehow he found us. Soon he was accepted by our society, the next he was his adviser. He had not made the choice lightly, for Azzal had assisted him in finally conquering his hated rivals in a nearby tribe. He had a mind for strategy, but you were never too sure whether his motives were the same as your own.

And here he was, in a new world and on the verge of full scale war unseen by either force In many years. Sil Ran often wondered for what reason Azzal had such interest in these lands, but shrugged it off as his thoughts turned to his other rival generals. He knew that none could be trusted, all prepared to put a knife in his back should the moment arise. It was these thoughts that made Sil Ran isolate himself within his war tent, never speaking to anypony except those few to whom he gave orders. He became paranoid and erratic, he did not sleep and he did not eat.

But he could not, unless he wished to risk his soldiers turning on him. Already they began to call him weak and a fool. How dare they, he was their lord and ruler, his skill and strength unmatched. The only real threat was… Azzal.

That slimy dog, always so crafty with his words, keeping his intentions to himself. Who was he to question his rule? Would he simply have off with him when he no longer needed his puppet of a lord? He was a stranger to everypony and no pony could fully trust him. And that dagger, Azzal would kill him if he had the chance. That venom would stop his heart or close his throat. Damn that slippery fool, making a mockery of me.

There was only one answer; Azzal had to be disposed of. His usefulness was drawing to a close and soon there would be no more need of his services. He was a fine warrior, but what is a champion when compared to a king? Then it would be so; Azzal will be gone by morning and then my rule will be unquestionable. I am Sil Ran; Lord of the East and Bane of Canterlot.

The Khan on the other hoof was just arriving back at the camp as his lord plotted against him. To their tents he sent his guard, taking his time to have a meal before returning to his own. Tonight the men were less merry, their spirits dampened by the thought of war the next day. He did not blame them, but he cared little.

The generals would be eager to hear of the recent developments within the city, although there were very few words to say. Simply that the attack would proceed as planned; just as Azzal had planned.

As he finished up what was a relatively small meal he wandered towards Sil Ran’s war tent. The stars had finally risen into the sky, but they seemed to flicker and dim for they had risen later than usual. The moon seemed to glow with a soft grey light, offering no comfort to those within the city.

Pushing aside the entrance with his hoof, Azzal entered Sil Ran’s tent with a cautious step. Some of the scattered items had been reorganized and the scrolls now rested in a pile next to the bed. But there was no sign of his lord to be seen. It puzzled him at first, for once again he never left his tent. Azzal stepped further inside and took another look around in case he had missed any details.

On the desk rested the Talon of Pain, the icon of Sil Ran’s rule. What a tool it was, a true and elegant design, yet its aura was that of fear.  Suddenly Azzal’s ears pricked up as he heard the sound of rustling behind him, turning only to find the lord in question waiting for him.

“Sil Ran, I did not expect you to be out.”

The large earth pony raised an eyebrow. “No, no you didn't.”

“You are in quite a state. You must try and get some sleep before tomorrow. I will inform the other generals of what I have learned in the meantime.”

“No!” A sudden outburst came from Sil Ran as he blocked the exit to the tent. “Not yet. First I must ask you a question and I want you to answer honestly.” He exchanged a harsh and imposing glare with Azzal, for even he had to admit that it was rather intimidating.

“Of course my lord.”

“Where do your true loyalties lie?”

Azzal shifted in his robes, his armor suddenly adding weight to itself. He raised a hoof as if in gesture, but suddenly drew it to his side. Before Sil Ran had a chance to react the Khan had drawn his hidden dagger and attempted to lash out at him.

Sil Ran reached out in surprise and seized his hooves, attempting to wrestle the bone dagger from his hooves. While Sil Ran was tougher and stronger, he was restless and weary, Azzal taking full advantage of his weakness. Sliding his back leg under Sil Ran’s own, he tripped the earth pony and sent him flailing towards the ground.

Azzal was on him, holding the point at Sil Ran’s throat. He attempted to push it back towards the Pegasus but he was at the disadvantage. It was now that Azzal chose to taunt him one last time.

“So predictable Sil Ran, you never learn. I have my army and I have my command, I no longer need you. You were ever so paranoid, but now it seems that it failed you when you most needed it. And now I shall have your right, I shall have your victory and I shall have…  my… vengeance.”

He gave one last almighty push at Sil Ran’s neck with the dagger, the pinned lord doing the same. The air in his lungs could not muster a call for help, nor would his pride allow it. With what strength he had in him he shoved the dagger back in Azzal’s direction, glancing the side of his neck. Blood slowly trickled from the cut and the Pegasus seemed to light up with realization. He felt his blood seize up and his neck slowly swell under the strain. With one last push he drove the dagger into Sil Ran’s hear, silencing him after a small amount of struggle.

The Khan now had bigger issues to deal with, the chief being the poisoned cut on his neck. Staggering from the tent he wandered out towards the camp struggling to keep his balance. The air fled from his lungs and his eyesight blurred till all he saw was a hazy mist. Suddenly his legs gave out on him and he took a small tumble down the grassy bank. There he sprawled out across the field until the sound of panicked voiced could be heard. But it was too late, for he felt and saw no more.

Next Chapter: Cheating Fate Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 60 Minutes