The fall sun wasn't very bright but Rainwalker still had to squint due to having been forced to live underground for most of his life. He was outside the slave domes for the first time in months, dressed in a ridiculous toga like garment, serving drinks at some magisters Garden party. He glowered at the guests even as they levitated their fruity little drinks from the platter on his laughing.

Couldn't they carry their own damned drinks? He thought bitterly.

When the platter was empty he walked back over to the kitchens to get a fresh one. Some officer was regaling some impressionable mares by kitchens with tales of his "valor" on the battlefield. Rainwalker doubted the pompous Mule had ever even set foot on a battlefield except for when all the bloody work was done.

"So just when their Juggernaughts were about to hit us they walked right into the spot where we'd placed our Mana Charges. Then- BOOM!" One of the mares gave a delighted squeak of fright at this that made Rainwalker roll his eyes. "All of them went flying and the whole lot of mud ponies turned tail and ran!"

He pushed his way into the kitchen to find the overworked staff under the watchful eyes, and sharp tones, of the head cook.

"Where's the damned cake?" The Head cook shouted. "We needed it five minutes ago!"

Another slave refilled Rainwalker's tray with drinks quickly as the Head cook chewed out the terrified mare who was working the ovens. He longed to shove the head cooks horned head right into the ovens but kept it in check. The ropes bound about his wings prevented him from flying and if he couldn't fly he'd never get away with it.

He walked back out into the garden...

Right into the officer who had been regaling the mares with his stories. Fancy crystal glasses and sparkling white wines went everywhere, most onto to the officer. The whole Garden turned to watch the scene as Rainwalker stood there not yet fully comprehending what had just happened as they officer cursed and shook glass shards from his formal robes.

"You stupid feather brained clutz!" The Officer snarled.

"I'm sorry sir," Rainwalker replied suppressing his desire to laugh at the officer's wine soaked face.

"Sorry!" The Officer snapped. "Sorry? This robe is pure Neighponies silk! It took ten years to weave by master artisans! Do you know how expensive it is to get that kind of silk?"

"Not really."

"More than your life you stupid featherbrain!" The Officer shrieked.

Then his horn glowed with magic and Rainwalker tensed up. The ceremonial sword hanging at the officers side flashed out of its scabbard the hilt glowing the same color as the officer's horn.

Rainwalker brought the platter up just in time to block the first attack the narrow blade deflecting of it with a loud ping sound. He stepped back, ducking under the second swing and made to bolt. The sword came down again as he passed however, a sliced clean through the ropes binding his wings to his sides.

It took Rainwalker a moment to process this fact as the ropes fell to the ground and the officer turned to face him again, face livid with rage.

Without a second thought Rainwalker shot into the air, slightly off balance is his wings struggled to lift him up after such a long period of disuse. The Unicorns at the party were shouting, some were taking aim at his with their horns. He didn't need anymore of an excuse to fly as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

He knew the pursuit would be on him in minutes and that if he was caught his death would be horrible and painful. But for the moment he was free, flying on the wind, speeding along northwards. He didn't know who he should think for that idiot unicorns pompous attitude and sensitive ego, but they would be in his prayers that night.

Eventually however he had to set himself down to rest by the shore of a forest stream. He drank gratefully from the fresh water, it tasted infinity better than the swill he was given in the slave domes. His stomach growled at him and he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. He nibbled on some wild grass which tasted foul and wasn't much more filling than the thin slop given in the slave domes. It wasn't much but he wouldn't starve at least.

As soon as he felt he could move again he once more rose into the air and continued north. Where in the north? He didn't know, he'd never seen a map in his life. Why north? He didn't know and he didn't care, anywhere was better than the villas and the slave domes. He had no plan but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was that he was free for the first time in his life.

MLP:ED

Ardon wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked up to the gates. The Guards waved him on through with the rest of the crowds. Thus he entered into the steadily rising city.

It had been seven weeks since the Nor Menn had made landfall in Equestria, seven weeks since the Saint Trottersburg had burned to the ground. In those seven weeks the couple of miles of land Ardon had chased Sheriff Silverstar and the Saint Trotterburg militia had steadily begun to transform. From miles of farm lands and woods, into the foundations of a city.

First they had harvested all of crops and began clear cutting the forest. Miles of trees were felled and up rooted to provide the lumber the Nor Menn would need. Then they head dug out trenches to install the sewage system to contend with the new cities waste. Pipes of Wood, Bronze, and other materials were laid in and buried, the points were they would connect to various structures sticking out of the ground like mushrooms.

Up went a basic palisade, extending from the one Ardon and his scout force had produced to shield them from attacks by the militia gunners. It would eventually be expanded into a larger, stronger, and higher wall of stone and lumber. Ardon's base camp was the first real square for the city, a roof and soft beds, with more buildings slowly rising around it.

At the beaches where the Armada had made landfall a large board walk and wharf had been constructed to service the vast Nor Menn fleet. It stretched out into a series of piers more than far enough out for the ships to dock easily. Many of the Great Arks were being dismantled to provide materials for the cities structures, but the rest of the fleet was still at berth ready to move if need be.

Most of the people were still living in tents and huts but a few houses had begun to rise. The King had marked out where he wanted streets to be placed; where shops and homes would go, where taverns and inns would be, and where troop garrisons and armories would be established for the city watch. High upon the cliffs where Ardon had slain Sheriff Silverstar the Kings new palace and hold was being raised. On the cliffs where Ardon had made light the first beacon the War Priests were raising up a new temple to the gods using stones salvaged from the ruins of Saint Trottersburg.

Ardon however had not been able to help in much of this work, he had other duties.

Countless many of the Jarl's, Chieftains, and lords did not intend to remain in the new capitol. They intended to set up their own new strongholds, cities, houses, and holdfasts else where in the region. Thus many of Wanderers, like Ardon had been called to serve scouting and surveying the surrounding territories for one noble or another.

There was also the matter of subjugating the local ponies. They could not risk ponies fleeing off and warning the rest of Equestria about the Nor Menn's arrival. So Raiding parties and scouting forces had been sent out to every farm and hamlet for miles and laying down the law. The locals could either bend the knee or they would be destroyed. Most chose the former over the later, terrified of their new overlords and hearing rumors of the destruction of Saint Trottersburg.

Then there was the village of Featherfall to the north west. Clan Krast had arrived in force to bring the settlement to heel only to find more of the mad laughing ponies present. A brutal and gruesome fight had ensued in which Clan Krast had slaughtered the crazed ponies to the last. Reports claimed Jarl Krast had slain the mad ponies leader in single combat with a single stroke from his great sword. Unlike Saint Trottersburg however the village had not been destroyed though many of its ponies had died either fighting or caught in the cross fire. Jarl Krast had reportedly claimed the village as part of his holdings and begun building up his own fortress with the blessings of the King.

To say the least the Nor Menn on the whole had been very busy.

He tossed a nod to several guards as he walked up the path to the King's new hold fast. They had finished building the first floor and had started on the second, building it into the side of the cliff to make it as tall and strong as possible. The Huskrals waved him through knowing he was expected.

Inside he stepped into a large hall of wood and stone. There was a stair case leading up to a raised dining and audience area. A few large tables had already been set up in the middle of the hall while workers built around the completed arts of the hold fast. At the far end however was a raised dais upon which was set a single seat of stone and iron shaped like an ice sickle rising from the floor. Upon this throne sat the king, his pale hair draped upon his shoulders and his crown upon his brow. Several nobles were gathered about the Throne all waiting to petition the king with some claim or grievance.

Ardon found himself waiting in a very long and irritable line as the king dealt with each of his petitioners one at a time. Literally hours passed as one noble or another presented his or her case to the king and received his judgement on the matter. It was tedious and irritating but Ardon was glad that he himself did not have to contend with such matters.

At last Ardon reached the front of the line and bowed low before the king, noting the presence of Chieftian Strenn standing close by the king.

"Your grace," Ardon said by way of greeting. "You summoned me?"

"Indeed I did Chief Scout," the king replied. "There are two matters that I must speak with you of."

"What might they be your grace?"

"First," the King began, shifting slightly on the throne. "Chieftain Strenn has offered to name you his heir as he has no living children."

This caught Ardon off guard to say the least. He looked up at the Chieftain who now had a somber smile on his face.

"I doubt I'll live through this war," Strenn explained. "I don't want my folk to be fought over like fish at the market. You I know can be trusted to lead them well and with wisdom."

"I am not worthy of the honor," Ardon said bowing his head.

"You are worthy so long as you don't stick a dagger into my back to get the inheritance faster," Strenn replied.

"No promises."

They both laughed at this. It took a moment or two before they could return to business. The King then leaned back on the throne.

"There is another matter to be attended to," he said grimly. "I have need of you once more Chief Scout."

"My life is yours," Ardon assured him.

"While we have made progress settling into our new holdings we must not become complacent," the king began. "The secrecy that has protected us thus far will not last much longer. Thus we must learn as much as we can about our foes as we can so we may better execute our war."

"What would you have me do?" Ardon asked.

"Take your forces south into the Goldenleaf woods," the king answered. "Observe the forces of House Moon and Stars. Discover where they are strong and where they are weak. Give us every advantage you can before we march on their lands in earnest."

"Rules of engagement your grace?"

"Leave no foe standing."

"Understood."

Author's Note

I go away for a week and Pooryorick decides he's done with ED?

Note to self. Never go on week long vacations ever again.

Edit: Changed a name due to mapping error. Sorry.