"I have a bad feeling about this, Gantula."
"Just as the clear skies stretching for thousands of miles across Chogoris can turn into raging storms within a few breaths, eagles soaring through the heavens always sense it before all other living things, then seek shelter before the lightning descends."
Chaghatai Khan sat upright in his command tent, a cup of milk wine half-drunk and resting on the small table before him.
A breeze brushed over the bonfire burning within the tent, its faint warmth stroking the Khan's long beard beneath his chin and lulling the warhawk's mind into a hazy, ethereal state.
He did not hesitate for long before ordering his attendants to bring out twenty-four bamboo sticks of equal size and length. These ancient divination tools had yellowed slightly with age, yet had been carefully preserved by soaking them in the oil of some beast.
He then divided the bamboo sticks into three groups of eight, marked them as he had the previous night, and returned them to their tube. The Khan shook the tube, drew one bamboo stick, and repeated the process three times.
"My premonition was correct. The divination foretells misfortune."
At Chaghatai Khan's words, Gantula wore an expression of half-belief and half-doubt.
He was not a stormseer. Not every Chogorian could comprehend the arts of divination and prophecy; only a select few enlightened ones with the proper gift could master them.
Within the White Scars Legion, Chaghatai Khan had always opposed his sons giving him unconditional worship and blind trust. He even encouraged them to hold thoughts of their own, even opinions completely opposed to his.
In his view, the ability to think independently was at least ten thousand times better than blindly following the crowd.
"It is a pity Yesugei is no longer here. Otherwise,