The air was very humid, in a particular cave. Hidden, not many knew where to find it, aside from the Minions. Minions of the dark forces always knew how to find such places. This was especially true with local ones, as they were familiar with the Master who dwelled inside it. Rarely did the old sorcerer ever venture out of the cave unless to watch the chaos he caused, or if one of the Minions failed to retrieve and ingredient for him. Tedious, Minions. One could never really rely on them to do what was asked.
Arthimus had learned that over his many, many years.
He wasn't much of an enjoyable man, Arthimus. He wasn't nice to others of his own kind, even. He could be wily and cunning if he wanted to, though usually he just stayed deep inside his cave where he would concoct spells and potions to wreak havoc and destruction. His long beard reached just about to the ground, and although he was very, very, very old, it wasn't white. Rather, it was pitch black, with streaks of silver here and there. His eyes weren't too normal, either. Instead of typically colored eyelashes, they were white, and while the irises of his eyes were black, the pupils were white. It was a typical characteristic of sorcerers (especially those who chose to engage in dark, malevolent arts), though unknown to most humans. He carried a staff, gnarled and old, but very strong and supportive. It was a good staff, in the magical world. Reliable. That was important. If a staff or wand wasn't reliable, you might as well find a new one, since it was bound to fail you at some point in time. Better to not risk having that happen at a critical moment and get yourself killed because your wand couldn't defend you.
Right now, however, he wasn't busy with his staff. Rather, Arthimus was gazing into the enchanted pool. The enchanted pool appeared to be little more than a puddle, yet the water never evaporated, or moved anywhere. If one were to splash in it, the water may land outside of it, then travel right back to where it had been before. The water was enchanted to show what was going on in certain areas, depending on what its controller was interested in. The foreboding black eyes of the man looked intently at the rippling surface as the reflections on the water blurred as scenes changed.
"Show me the prince," he commanded, in his unpleasant voice, and he had to cough. Oh, a pox on being old. The water could only oblige to the order and formed the image of the Rebel prince, none other than Xutou. "He looks young. Too young to know the difference between a good man and an evil man. This is good," he murmured to himself aloud, a grim smile playing on his lips. The magical man watched the image of Xutou for a moment more, then waved his hand slightly. The water clouded and changed the scene again, now showing Rinoa. Arthimus cackled gleefully. "Pitiful fool! Look at her! She couldn't hurt a fly without feeling guilty; there's no possible way she could stop this wonderful war!"
Well, someone really showed confidence in Kilan's lost princess. Not that anyone besides the people of Harmän knew she was a princess, though. right?
Oh, how wrong that was. Arthimus had known. It was he who had done all the persuading needed to get the Rebels to make a move to cause a fuss! It was he who had caused Queen Miriam to burn, he who had caused Rinoa to have to run! Arthimus loved the war as if it was his own child, and, essentially, it was. How else was a twisted, evil sorcerer supposed to entertain himself, after all? Conjuring up rabbits and cute, fluffy animals? He should think not! No, Arthimus took joy out of chaos and chaos alone, so that was what he dabbled in creating. Anything from ferocious thunderstorms to raging wars, you name it, and Arthimus had either tried it before, or would do it sometime.
And, if someone got in his way. well, hopefully you got to say goodbye to that person before Arthimus got to them. People didn't usually mess with Arthimus anymore. They had learned it was best not to interfere with whatever he happened to be up to at the time. Grin and bear it, you might say, although a grin was hardly around anymore, what with the war and all.
Arthimus waved his hand over the water again, and the scene disappeared. He was finished gazing for now. Turning away from the enchanted pool, he clasped his gnarled hands behind his back, deep in thought.
"If she does not have what it takes to end the war," he thought aloud, "then there's no certainty in how long it will continue. This is good, though I'll have to do more work on what to do after the next part is complete." He began pacing.
"On the other hand, she was sleeping. Even sorcerers cannot tell much about the character and soul of a person while they slumber! No, I will have to look at her again, sometime when she'll be awake. Yes, that will be better.

"Xutou, now, he's a fine boy, though he'll be easy to manipulate. I've watched him before; he wants to please everyone and tends to become overwhelmed when such a task is impossible. Perhaps a simple draft could keep him under my control until he bores me."
A smile crossed over the wicked sorcerer's wrinkled, ugly face, as he completed his conversation with himself. The war would go on, and, if everything happened as Arthimus had calculated repeatedly, Kilan would be his. It wouldn't be as easy a thing as he would have liked, but he would dominate the war-torn and vulnerable area. Many, many people just wanted the fighting to finally end and had lost hope. Arthimus could restore that hope. After doing so, the people would follow him, and he would rise to power. He would be friend to both Rebel and Kilan, and this would help him greatly. An appearance as neutral gave no one a cause to dislike Arthimus, and therefore he would have few enemies, if any at all. Once he had enough support of the feeble-minded mortals, would he take total control. History books would write about his great conquest of Kilan and the Rebel Clan. How he overtook two great powers at once, hitting two birds with one stone. The thought was enough to make the supernatural being smirk as he imagined what times would be like once all of this was complete.
Kilan was not only a warring kingdom. It was a doomed kingdom, with Arthimus around.