The Ash Citadel loomed over the sands.

Ember clutched her Sceptre tightly as her airship pulled closer towards the shadow of that monolithic structure. Its metal frame radiated the desert’s heat like a black fireball. Which wasn’t that far from the truth.

As the airship brought her closer, she could see smoke rising out from various corners of the Citadel. Ember scowled. Don’t they know we have to be perfect today? But, she let her anger flow out of her like a river of lava. It couldn’t be helped. The desert was dry and hot, and dragons were famous, or infamous, for their natural flames. That the whole thing had not burned down already was a miracle.

Ember leaned her Sceptre against her shoulder and paced about the top deck of the airship, watching the dunes roll by as they entered the long shadow of the Citadel. The narrow supply lines on the ground looked like a line etched onto paper by a pencil from above. A variety of creatures could barely be spotted from the airship. A few ponies hauled heavy crates of supplies on their sand skippers, long boat-like sledges that could skim along the crest of dunes. The desert’s soft sands made the wheel an impossible tool to use. And yet the Ash Citadel was supposed to be her people’s symbol of progress.

For every scant few ponies that trotted about the Citadel, Ember could make out dozens of dragons flying through its gates and airship docks. It was rare for dragons to build anything, let alone do so together in an orderly fashion. And yet the Ash Citadel still stood.

It was no palace. It was nothing like Mount Aris or Canterlot, but it was theirs. The place had been a wasted ruin before her dragons found it. It was a junkyard for airships, one so completely abandoned that even the rats had trouble picking through the remains. The only thing that told them its story were the insignias painted on the hull of every ship: storm insignias. The symbol of the Storm King.

Well, not so tough now, huh? You greedy beast. Ember smirked as her airship descended to one of the jutting metal walkways. The Storm Army was once feared from Mount Aris to Abyssinia and their king was a monster only to be whispered about on hushed lips. It gave Ember a unique sense of pride and joy to know her people had defaced and destroyed the memory of such a powerful foe.

We took your precious airships and ripped them apart, she thought, mocking the long-dead King. Guess we know why you never came to the Dragonlands.

The walls of the Citadel were now in full view. The smell of metal was rich in the air as welding sites and ore refineries spat smoke through the fortress’ spiked domes. Ember could still see some remnants of the Storm Army’s airship in the walls, despite her dragons dismantling them for scrap materials. A few planks ripped from the hull of abandoned airships and repurposed as beams for the wall still boasted flecks of blue paint from the insignia of their dead king. The metal parts which were not completely melted down were welded together and bolted over the wooden walls, giving the Ash Citadel its grey outer shell. And even as new metal was welded on, a few of those old metal fastenings bore the shape of the Storm Insignia.

Ember removed herself from the edge of the airship and prepared to walk onto the Citadel, grabbing her only piece of luggage, a simple satchel that she could hang on the Bloodstone Sceptre, and joining the rest of the passengers aboard. Ahead of her, a procession of armoured dragons waited stiffly, holding long spears in their claws.

“Quite the display, Dragonlord Ember.”

Ember turned to welcome the main attraction of the day. As one of the few alicorns in the world, and the sole ruler of the Equestrian kingdom, the global symbol of progress and unity, Princess Twilight Sparkle was admittedly the more important of the two leaders. Even Ember, with a dragon’s pride, could not deny it.

“I asked my lieutenant governor to prepare an entourage for your tour of the Citadel, Princess,” she replied. “The desert can be very dangerous, after all.”

“Which is why Spike and I are here.”

The Dragonlord turned her head about, looking among the other passengers on the airship for the young dragon assistant. Spike was more like the Princess than he was a dragon, but having him close by still made Ember more comfortable about the visit. There were still customs dragons were not used to when interacting with other creatures. Politeness, for example. And yet Spike was one of the few who had the temperament to mediate that tension.

“Yep,” his voice squeaked out from behind a stack of luggage twice his height. “Official Friendship Advisor, reporting for duty!”

Ember laughed. “Is that you under there, Spike? You look ridiculous.” She immediately waved one of the guards over, and signal him to help carry Spike’s burden.

“Whoo,thanks,” he huffed, “I needed that.”

Together, the three of them walked down the metal platform that reached out from the walls of the Citadel. Tall arches, big enough to pass airships through, opened up the insides of the Citadel to the desert. The smell of rust and coal grew stronger now, and the heat of blast furnaces made the desert’s air feel like a winter breeze.

Ember took a deep breath. She had been on a hippogriff airship for a week, surrounded by tourists, diplomats, and merchants from Equestria and Mount Aris. The nations of ponies and hippogriffs were capable of a lot of things, but understanding dragons was not on their list of talents. Ember’s head ached just thinking about spending another day on that ship, surrounded by the chattering of other creatures. Sleeping through most of the flight was the only way she managed to cope with the journey. And after long days of inaction, she welcomed the acrid smell of hot slag and iron.

As the guards escorted the three of them inside, an older black-scaled dragon approached them, pushing aside the ponies and dragons offloading supplies from other incoming airships. He was not a true adult dragon yet, the massive kind that slumbered for centuries on piles of gold and gemstones, but he was on his way. The dragon was broad-shouldered and lumbered from side to side as his legs struggled to balance his mass. It was almost comical, the dragon’s body had already entered the stage where it was easier to tread around on all fours, but as long as he could still walk upright, the height made him the most imposing figure around.

“About time you showed up,” he snarled, extending a claw out to Twilight. She immediately leaned back, overwhelmed by the dragon who was over twice her size. He squinted his eyes at her, and then inspected his claw.

“Did I do it wrong?” he quickly asked Ember, flustering and flicking his tail around nervously. “You said ponies shook hooves as a greeting.”

“Came on a little strong, though,” Ember said before turning to Twilight. “Sorry, this is my lieutenant governor, Burnt Skullfang. Burnt, this is Princess Twilight Sparkle. I expect you to be a little more careful from here on out.”

“Yes, of course.” The dragon looked down ashamedly and tucked his claws close to his chest.

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Twilight said, quickly laughing the matter off. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Most of the dragons who travel to Equestria are still young. I don’t think I’ve seen any dragon with your… stature. At least not one that wasn’t breathing fire at me.”

“I understand, Your Highness,” Burnt said, bowing. “My dragons have been busy whipping the ruins into shape, as you can see.” He gestured around them, along the walls and down to the lower levels of the Citadel. “There hasn’t been time to learn the proper manners.”

From where they stood, it looked like a massive metal pit. Clusters of forges were scattered among piles of scrap metal and broken ship parts. Walkways crisscrossed to form something resembling separate floors on a skyscraper, but Ember could still see down to the ground floor and up to the ceiling. Dozens of dragons flew around, lifting buckets of metal scrap to where sparks flew off the walls. There, dragons used their flame to add new pieces of scrap, strengthening the pillars and beams that held the entire structure up.

“It’s impressive,” Twilight gazed at everything, even if she covered her nose with one of her wings. “I’ve read as much as I can about dragons and dragon history. This might be the single largest construction effort dragons have ever done.”

The governor beamed with pride at her compliment and waved them all to follow him. “I can continue the tour now, Dragonlord. We’ve made some exciting progress here.”

“Yes, go on,” Ember said.

Dragons were usually hotheaded and stubborn, so Burnt was a rare sight. He had both the patience to lead a fortress full of dragons and the imposing size to make them listen. He had a wide snout and crooked, jutting teeth that gave him the name Skullfang.

“We’ve finished work on sealing the holes through the wall,” he said as they walked across the Citadel on a suspended metal bridge. Its plates were grated, and Ember could look straight down at the dragons working. “So now sand doesn’t leak in every time we get a wind storm. With that done, we’ve started work on tearing out the wood in the walls. The planks were good as a base, but we’ve started making mortar out of the limestone we get from the mines. We’ll have stone walls soon, and be able to recycle the wood for other purposes.”

Their tour of the Citadel was short, considering its size. The dragons didn’t have anything fancy like Equestrian cities, so there was little to see beyond the forges, storerooms, and mess hall. And they completely avoided the Core of the Citadel. It was where the blast furnaces ran day in and day out, consuming piles of ore and spitting out white-hot metal and sulfurous slag. For a dragon, the heat was hardly noticeable. But to any other creature, the Core was to be avoided at all costs. The air alone was hot enough to blister the skin.

“I can imagine why dragons have been flocking to this colony. But it’s not just dragons that live here, is it?” Twilight asked as the tour flew up a few levels to the cooler residences. Around them, the Ash Citadel started to look a lot more like a place they’d find in Equestria. Stores and shops, welded into the walls and crowded metal canopy, were helmed by ponies and griffons.

“I wouldn’t be a very good Princess if I didn’t check on the community of ponies living here,” Twilight said. “And I’d like to talk to them alone if that’s alright.”

Burnt gave no answer, though he looked over to Ember as if to pass the decision over to her. But Ember didn’t know what to say, either. Twilight was the first world leader to visit the Ash Citadel. Even though the other kingdoms traded with the dragons’ colony for stone, gems, and most importantly, metal, the thought that dragons could build something permanent instead of burning it down was a novel one. Twilight had shown a lot of trust and faith by coming to the Ash Citadel, but it seemed strange that she would want to explore it on her own after asking Ember to organise a tour.

Yet, it wasn’t as if there was a set itinerary. The Dragonlord and her lieutenant governor weren’t experts at hosting delegations, and they had no plans after showing Twilight everything the colony had been up to. Moreover, it wasn’t as if she could say no. Ember knew Twilight would understand why she couldn’t let Equestria’s Princess walk alone in a colony of dragons, but there were eyes everywhere, waiting to see what the dragons would do. Merchants would whisper, traders would speak, and news would carry from the desert all the way to Mount Aris and Griffonstone within a week, all claiming the Dragonlord was hiding something from Princess Twilight.

“Sure, of course, you can talk to your ponies,” Ember finally answered. “This is the merchant’s level. Equestria’s consulate office is a few floors up. One of the guards can show you the way.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said, bowing her head. She turned to Burnt and gave the hulking dragon a warm smile. “I see now why Ember trusts you. I’m impressed you’ve been able to make something out of the Storm King’s old ships.”

“Thank you,” Burnt laughed.

“Um, Twilight, would it be alright if I stayed with Ember?” Spike suddenly spoke up and licked his lips. “I wanted to take another look at the mess hall, they had some really shiny gemstones.”

The Princess nodded. “Take your time. I know you don’t get a lot of chances to be around other dragons.”

Spike’s mood immediately jumped. “Thanks, Twilight!”

“We’ll take care of the whelp,” Burnt laughed, patting Spike roughly on the back.

Ember waved to one of the guards with her Sceptre, commanding him to lead the Princess to the Equestrian consulate. She had half a mind to send another dragon after them, to hang back and listen in case there was anything she needed to know, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew Twilight wouldn’t. It was nice of her to visit, but Ember could imagine that she felt out of place. Maybe all she wanted was to be among her kind for a while.

“Burnt,” Ember said, immediately shifting her focus. “We should head down to your office. I have some questions.”

As big as the Citadel was, it only took the three dragons ten minutes of flying and bumping shoulders with welders and metalsmiths to reach the bottom. They were deep within the Core, surrounded by the firelight of a dozen blast furnaces. As the heart of the entire Citadel, the office was the only building with some measure of decorum. The walls were made from polished metal and smoothed stone, and any dragon who was not busy mining, melting, building, or welding worked in the office.

Ember could still see the dirt path she made when she and her dragons found the airship junkyard. The Core was technically underground, built within the pit where the airships had been dumped. And through the centre of that pit, a long stretch of packed earth led straight into the office building. It had blackened from the ash and slag that spilt over from the furnaces, looking more and more like the main road in a small town where all the major buildings clustered to do business.

Up above, merchants from the other kingdoms sold exotic and foreign goods in exchange for the Citadel’s steel, but if a dragon needed new tools, gems, or treatment for an injury, they came to the Core.

Spike tugged on Ember’s arm as they passed a smaller off-shoot from the office formed into an open kitchen. Fires burst up into the air, but not for metals. Fish, oysters, and clams sizzled as they cooked on thin metal spikes, roasted over a charcoal pit and then set out on countertops around the chef. A not inconsiderable amount of dragons gathered to take their fill, and Ember watched with Spike as the chef seemed to hand out a skewer to any dragon who asked.

“You two hungry?” Burnt paused and firmly gripped Spike on the shoulder. “Bet they don’t serve anything like that in pony land, huh boy?”

Spike wiped his mouth and shook his head. “Not really. Equestria has all different kinds of food, but never any meat. I thought we just ate gemstones?”

Burnt looked over to the Dragonlord curiously. “Don’t they teach anything about dragons over there?”

Ember shook her head. “They don't know enough to teach,” she told him. Then she poked Spike in the belly. “Spike, we eat gemstones because they keep our scales healthy, but even dragons can't grow bodies out of nothing. The Dragonlands is surrounded by the sea, what else would we eat other than seafood?”

“I never really thought about that,” he admitted. “I’ve always eaten what other ponies eat. And gems, of course.”

“Well then,” Burnt said firmly, stepping forward to the kitchen, “I know our first order of business. You might have a pony’s mind, Spike, but not a pony’s body. Let’s get some fish in you!”

The other dragons watched them as Ember moved ahead of the lieutenant general and placed her order first. She wanted to discuss the Citadel’s needs with Burnt first, but if he insisted on eating, then she was going to make up for the week she spent eating the raw fish that hippogriffs liked to serve.

“Twelve,” she told the chef, a very old dragon who had clearly shrunk past his prime. He was fat around the belly, skinny around the tail, and his arched back concealed the massive beast he must have once been. Despite his age, however, the elder’s knobbly claws spun the skewers over the fire with quick precision, and his tail wrapped around the fire pit in a funnel, keeping the heat trapped inside.

Ember spied Spike staring at her, gawking at how many oysters she had ordered. Her lieutenant general came up next in line and ordered twenty skewers for himself.

“Show off,” she scoffed as the old chef passed her twelve skewers, fresh off the grill. She stepped back and rejoined Spike, giving him two of her skewers.

“Thanks,” he said, taking them with a confused look. “But can’t I just take my own?”

Ember laughed. “Not unless you have the credit for it.”

“Credit?” Spike said, confused. “Wait, if you use money, why not just use bits like Equestria?”

“Because most dragons usually don’t go buying things in Equestria,” Ember explained. “We might use Equestrian bits when we trade with ponies, but between dragons it’s useless. Using it here would make us completely dependent on Equestria for currency. At first I wanted to make our own coins, but since dragons can never agree on anything, we couldn’t agree on what kind of coin to make. So, I just ordered all the dragons to use a system of credit.”

She pointed to a giant book in the corner of the kitchen, far away from the fires and locked behind a glass case. “The Core Office keeps track of every dragon’s credit. How much paid, how much spent. The infirmary, pharmacy, and general store all have an accounting book like that one, and it’s updated every few days. A dragon does their work, they get credit. If a hammer breaks and they need to replace it, they can spend it at the store.”

“And if they spend more than they have?”

“That’s for Skullfang to figure out,” Ember said. “The lieutenant governor’s office handles that kind of day to day accounting. Kind of like the banks where ponies have to keep track of their bits.”

“Banks do more than that,” Spike started to explain, but he dropped it. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t matter if Ember understood Equestrian banking or not. “I guess it makes sense. At least no one has to carry any money around.”

Ember nodded, glad to be understood. If it made sense to him, then she was doing something right with the colony. Ruling over dragons could be easy if she were like her father. Dragons were staunch individualists, and mostly only cared about themselves and their families. In the past, it was all too easy to let dragons do as they wished.

But she had seen what the other kingdoms were like. Even visiting Equestria for a few days was an eye-opener. To the northeast, griffons were finally beginning to rebuild their kingdom, while the changelings were busy modelling their hive after Equestrian methods. Mount Aris, an old and revered kingdom, was the second bastion of the developed world, welcoming tourism and almost entirely filling the gaps in Equestria’s sphere of influence.

She thought about the future of her dragons as she plucked oysters off her skewer, crunching through the shell and fleshy core in a single bite. With no cities, no industry, no military, and no economy, the Dragonlands would fall behind every other kingdom in the world. And unlike the other species, she didn’t have a council of experienced diplomats and leaders. It was just her, the Bloodstone Sceptre, and a rare few dragons ready to give their future a chance.

Spike sat quietly by Ember and nibbled at his oyster, though he slowly grew more and more frustrated as the shell denied him. Ember broke out of her head once she noticed him fidgeting, and almost broke out into a roaring laughed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, covering her mouth.

“It won’t… open!” Spike answered.

“You’re a dragon,” she reminded him. “Just bite it like a gemstone.”

“The whole thing?” Spike squeaked, staring at the skewer with a new perspective. Slowly, he fit his mouth around the thickest part of the oyster shell and bit down hard. It was like eating a fat crunchy piece of quartz. Until the inside burst open. Sizzling salty juices flooded his tongue and spilt out from his mouth. Ember watched his eyes go wide as he chewed on the rubbery meat inside.

“It’s so weird,” he finally said after he had swallowed the whole thing. “It’s good, but I don’t know if I can get used to the texture.”

“One step at a time, Spike,” Ember smiled. It was enough that he was appreciating what it meant to be a dragon, he didn’t have to like all of it yet. “It’s just good to have you around.”

After the dragons had eaten, they retired to the governor’s office. It was cooler, marginally, than the furnaces outside. Cool enough to be one of the few places in the whole Core to store books and paper. Behind the lieutenant governor’s desk, a long glass cabinet held stacks of account books, exactly like the one in the kitchen.

Ember gripped her Sceptre in one claw and tapped the blood-red stone with the other as she paced about. But Burnt simply sat down at his desk, the cushioned metal chair creaking under his weight.

“Do you it’s going well?” she asked Skullfang.

“The tour? I don’t see why not.”

“The whole world is watching our progress, Burnt, don’t brush this off like it’s another routine check-up. If the Princess of the largest kingdom in the world has even doesn’t give her full support here, the other kingdoms are not going to take us seriously.”

Spike watched them talk while picking oyster shell fragments out of his teeth, and for a moment Ember wondered if it was wise to talk about Twilight in front of him. But she quickly abandoned her distrust. She needed to trust him, or else working with Equestria would become a lot tougher.

“Just tell me if there’s anything I should be worried about,” she said, staring Burnt down. The massive dragon seemed to shrink before the Dragonlord, and he folded his arms defensively.

“Water is our biggest issue. Fresh drinking water has been rationed out for all non-dragon residents, but already we have griffons flying back to their homes because it’s not enough.”

“Non-dragons?” Spike quickly asked. “Why are non-dragons getting rations?” Once again, both dragons stared at Spike, surprised by his question. They looked at each other, and this time Burnt was the first to answer.

“Because dragons are sturdier than any other creature, and we can do just fine with the water that comes through the canal to the sea.”

Ember watched him blink at the new information, and she swore she could see the thoughts inside his head merging as he processed it alongside everything he must have learned growing up.

“Dragons can drink seawater?” he finally asked, almost shouting in surprise.

“You’ve seen the Dragonlands,” Ember said, “you know we have nothing but lava and oceans. There’s no natural freshwater source.”

“I know, but there’s so much salt in the ocean.”

“Salt’s just another mineral,” Ember said, nodding. “I don’t know what it does to ponies, but just like every other excess mineral, salt gets put into our scales. If you eat nothing but salt I’m sure you’ll turn white and flakey eventually, but it’s not normally unhealthy for us.”

She refocused on Burnt Skullfang, leaving Spike to sit quietly and contemplate his recent revelation. “What are you doing to produce fresh water right now?”

“We buy water purifiers whenever we can,” he answered. “Mostly from the hippogriffs, sometimes from the ponies. Other than that, we have workshops in the Citadel dedicated to boiling seawater to separate the salt and make it drinkable. We’re sustaining for now, but it’s pretty close some days.”

Ember growled, not at Skullfang, but their whole situation. Now she had to wonder what Twilight would do if she found out ponies were rationing water in a dragon colony. It didn’t look good.

“We’ve also had more attacks from the desert creatures, especially around the mines. No losses, aside from a few carts of ore and gems, but it keeps stress high among the miners.”

“Can’t change that,” Ember sighed. “We have to defend ourselves, but we’ll be seen as invaders if we clear out the natural habitat around here. One of the Princesses' friends, and close advisor, insisted that the Ash Citadel has to affect as few animals as possible.”

“It’s not beasts that are attacking us now,” Burnt corrected grimly.

“Oh? Who is it then?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say for sure, but they’re too organised to be simple beasts. They strike at night, and always before a sand storm. Plus, we’ve found the spears they left behind after the attacks.”

“That doesn’t give me much to go on,” Ember growled again, this time at Burnt. She gripped her Sceptre tighter. “How has no one seen these attackers? Did every dragon forget they can breathe fire?”

“Well, we’ve seen them. We just don’t know what they are.” Burnt pulled a folder out from the glass cabinet behind him and spread its contents out on his desk. They were charcoal sketches of short, stubby creatures, though what kind was impossible to tell with the cloaks draped over their bodies.

“How many in the last attack?”

“Twenty to fifty, depending on who you ask.”

“Did anyone see what direction they came from?”

“South, as far as we can tell. Which isn’t much. They know the desert well, attacking just before sandstorms and leaving in time for the winds to blow their prints away.”

As Ember rapped her claw against the Bloodstone Scepter, the door behind her screeched open. A green-scaled guard stood outside the office, his armour covered in sand and dust. He looked young, still older than Spike, but not by much, although he was surprisingly lanky. He was nearly as tall as Skullfang himself.

“What is it?” Burnt barked at the young whelp. “Can’t you read the sign outside? I’m speaking to the Dragonlord!”

“It’s the scouts, sir,” the young dragon replied, “they found some kind of camp, and they think they might have a lead on your daughter.” Immediately, the lieutenant governor’s office shuddered as Burnt stood up stiff, almost tossing his desk aside from the force of the jolt. The screech and twist of metal made the guard tense up, and his tail stuck out like a steel skewer.

“Go,” Burnt snarled, “now!”

The young dragon spread his wings and fled the office as quickly as he came. Ember watched him leave for a moment, stunned by what she had heard, before turning back on Burnt.

“Your daughter?”

Burnt fidgeted, flicking his eyes around the room in search of something to fixate on. But Ember planted herself, and the Bloodstone Sceptre, firmly in front of his burly snout. Eventually, he caved.

“Arrgh. I didn’t want you to know. Didn’t want you to think I wasn’t focused.” He scratched the frilled scales along his head. “And I, uh, lied when I said there were no losses. After the attacks started, I posted a cohort of dragons to watch over it. My daughter was in charge. And she was kidnapped during the last attack.”

A swirl of feelings hit Ember as she balled up her fist. She didn’t like being lied to. She wanted to scold him for hiding the truth, for not sending a letter about the attacks sooner. She wanted to hit something out of anger that a dragon that she was sworn to protect, was in danger. But moreover, she felt sad for Burnt.

“I wouldn’t be a good Dragonlord if I asked you to put your personal feelings aside,” she said while fiddling with her Sceptre. “Still, I can’t ask you to handle this for me. You’re too invested, and I need a dragon who can keep a level head.”

“I understand,” he said, though his face was awash with disappointment. He held his claws up as if holding an egg. “But Rosebud’s so young, her wings haven’t even come out yet.”

Ember softened her face and reached out, placing a claw on Burnt’s shoulder. “And that is why I am going to handle this myself, old friend. Whoever attacked us needs to know that dragons protect our own.” Ember turned to Spike. “We all do.”

“Wait, why are you looking at me like that?” Spike got up out of his chair and leaned for the door.

“You heard what I said,” Ember pointed at him with her Sceptre. “I need a level-headed dragon for this, and we both know that’s not going to be me. Spike, I need you with me on this one.”

He gulped. “Against fifty shadowy night creatures that kidnap dragons and attack with spears? No thanks, I think I’d just slow you down.”

Ember’s expression hardened. “A dragon is in danger, a dragon younger than you. She’s one of our own. I thought ponies were supposed to help creatures in need. And you’re a dragon who thinks like a pony. That’s double the reason. Don’t you want to help save her?”

Ember wasn’t sure why she bothered to question him so hard. Spike quickly began to settle down as his panicked look faded away. He might’ve been cautious and uncertain, but if there was one thing she had to say about Spike, it was that he was a helper.

He looked back to her with renewed determination. “Yeah, I do.”

Author's Note

This first chapter is intended to be a preview. Subsequent chapters will not be uploaded until part 1 is complete.