Fenris Khan was in a particularly foul mood, as all in his retinue could tell from the sparks of lightning arcing off of him and the low rumble of the earth quaking. His eyes were closed and his fingers were steepled against his lips after the messenger had given his report.

The messenger trembled in place as he fearfully waited for the great Khan’s response.

Fenris mulled over the report, two members of the Kin’s Council had put forth their own candidates to be his successor. One, a child blessed by a powerful high water spirit, clearly destined to be the political puppet of their councilman and family. The other was less gifted, bearing only the bond of a weak earth spirit, but was a man grown and had built strong connections among the tribes.

The Council has been getting bolder in recent years but this was a direct affront to his power. The Khan had already appointed an heir, his eighth son, who had bonded with a rare void spirit. And even though their’s strength was only intermediate, the spirit’s unique control over space and dimensions made them extremely formidable.

Sky-Breaker had sensed his frustration and had almost begun to rampage, being the temperamental spirit that he was. Fenris flexed his will to keep the raging storm at bay while Seeds-Scattering-on-the-Wind soothed their wrath.

Slowly, the flashes of lightning lessened and shrank until there were only small arcs of static jumping between his fingers. The earth quieted too as the Khan let his spirit return to her rest in the mana-flows.

Two spirits. High spirits at that. They were the reason he had managed to reign supreme over the clans for nearly five hundred years. Very few individuals manage to bond with two spirits simultaneously, and he was one of them.

Their power had slowed his aging to a near halt and made him the superior of any other spiritkin. In his heyday, he held the power to wipe any city in this world off the map with but little effort. At least, assuming there wasn’t a champion of the gods to defend it.

Now though, he was but an old man. A powerful old man to be sure, but nowhere near his prime strength. And he could feel as his time, once so plentiful, was slipping away from him.

He had brought strength and unity to the kin of the spirits, the disparate tribes and clans that those in the north called savages. He had formed the Kin’s Council as a compromise, to let once absolute rulers keep some modicum of power in his empire. Now their descendants seek to take his power for themselves.

It could still be salvaged though. He took a deep, calming breath and looked again at the messenger still before him.

“Call the heir, bring him to me.” the great Khan commanded, and all the guards - unnecessary though they may be - stood straighter.

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The man, shocked out of his petrification, quickly bowed and saluted his lord. Speaking nothing, simply turning on his heel and running out of the doors of the audience chamber to carry out his orders.

The Khan returned to his thoughts in the silence that followed. Although the councilmen had put forth their own candidates for an heir, that didn’t mean that everyone was behind the pretenders. They and their allies were a lost cause, but they only made up a small fraction of the Council. He knew that most of the Council would remain neutral until the eventual victor became clear anyway.

In such a case, he just needed to give them the clear victor.

Minutes passed and the air just in front of the doors to the chamber shimmered. . . before a young and handsome man appeared from nothing. The guard next to the door was startled but quickly regained his bearing and announced their arrival.

“Prince Aran Gellia, Child of the Void!” The guard’s shouts echoed off the walls for all to hear.

The prince stepped forward and strode towards his father before kneeling at the base of his throne. It was closer than most were allowed to get to the Khan, but this too was a statement. He would be the next on the throne, no one else.

“My son,” the Khan said, “there are those among the Kin’s Council who believe you are not the most fitting to take my place.”

“I understand, my Khan.” Aran showed no reaction to this news, likely because his own spies had already informed him. The Khan suppressed the smile that wanted to creep onto his face.

“Well, perhaps they are right. A boy with power so great he is unable to wield it and a man with nothing but a sliver-plated tongue. Who better to leave my life’s work to?”

“My competition is stiff.” The Khan’s son was doing a worse job at keeping a straight face. Something to work on, but lesser men would not be able to notice such slight expressions.

“If you truly seek to rule our lands when I am gone, then I would assume you have a plan to ensure that you do.”

“Yes, my Khan. The Council has forgotten the might of our family, I shall show them again and remind them of their place. Lostone shall make a fine lesson for them.”

This. . . actually surprised the Khan. A military campaign had been his plan as well, everyone loved a conquering hero, followed by a few years of successful territorial management would have guaranteed him the throne.

But Lostone was a risk.

The city was an endless wellspring of wealth with its access to the Silverthorne Mountains and their bounty of resources. Mithril ore, mana-beasts, and a deep leyline node made the mountains worth more than any gold mine many times over.

The city was also the most defended place in the divine kingdom, save for maybe the capital. It had swapped hands between the Kin and the men of the gods 3 times in the last millennium and was now firmly held by the kingdoms.

Capturing the city would not only guarantee Aren’s ascension but would make him a legend for centuries to come if he could pull it off.

IF he could pull it off.

Aren noticed his father's hesitation.

“My Khan, entrust me with this duty and I shall sit upon the throne of Lostone within 2 years.”

All the eyes of the guards in the room widened at the prince’s bold claim, but none could see what the Khan could.

The Khan looked into the eyes of his son and saw the darkness between the stars as Aran drew on his spirit’s power.

“. . .Go. Come back glorious . . . or don’t come back at all.”

The prince rose from his position and, with a flourish, summoned a rent in reality which he stepped through, vanishing.

Fenris Khan leaned back on his throne as he contemplated the outcomes of his choice. If his son took Lostone, the populace would have to be subdued and converted, but the treasure of the city would be worth every expense. His line would be solidified in their power and a new age would begin for the spiritkin.

If Aren failed to take the city, the Council would tear itself apart with petty politics and the land would burn in civil war. They would forsake his gift of unity and fall to become the savages the Northmen believed them to be.

This time, he allowed the sneer its place on his visage.

“This is going to be fun.” he said, as lightning once more began to arc across his body and the rumble of the earth almost sounded like laughter.