"Surrounded by such enemies on all sides, why should we not war?"
Ancestor Kris, Khan of the Original Tribe
"At last father, we are strong," said a young voice. Only silence was his answer. The dying embers glittered up at the boy, not yet a man. A shadowed figure stood nearby, ignoring his young son. The boy shivered, and looked longingly at the deserted fire.
"My son," spoke the elder man, his voice raspy from long years, "you are young. And oh so foolish. What lessons have I taught you of Kgrit?"
The boy recoiled at his father's palpable distaste of his proclaimation of strength. Sighing, he recitied the first lesson he was taught of his God, "The world is cruel and harsh, so as to test his chosen people. We war to test our strength, and to prove ourselves to him," finished the boy.
"And what does this say of our strength?" questioned the old man, an unreadable emotion in his voice.
"Nothing, father," responded the young man.
"Wrong; it means that strength is a measure of our ability to war. And there are many more wars to fight before we can declare our strength as if it were fact. Now, I have much to teach you of war, and the night is still young," chuckled the old man sadistically, remembering his own father's lessons.
"But father, its freezing out! At least let me rekindle the fire!" the young boy said anxiously.
"That, my boy, is the first lesson. In war, the conditions will never be ideal, and often you will need to travel through the cold night to surprise our enemies. You must be strong enough to ignore such trivial annoyances, as you will take my place one day as Khan," finished the old man, his voice turning to steel as he cautioned his son.
"I understand, father," meekly said the young boy, preparing himself for a long night.
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