Khastenk was the most aggressive and dangerous church in Iskrania They believed that Kosmo was a great mage, with the power of the ages at his command, that he dwelt in a secret tower invisible to the common man and upon hearing the desperate cries of the Iskranian ancestors came out and teleported the Ramsalonian force back to their homes. Their color was yellow, their belief was that one must be assertive and deal with every problem as soon as it pops up, they believed that mercy is for the weak and the foolish. Their fighting force was simply called Fist, battlemages of the most dreadful capacity, coupling amazing physical combat skills with powerful displacement and teleportation magics.
When the Followers of Light and Antioch's Knights Aleator rose to power, Khastenk put up a mighty resistance, and did not give up until most of their forces were crushed. Some of the remaining individuals joined the FoL, who promised to annihilate evil, and some of them joined the chaos priests, who promised violence in general.
The Day Comes, When We Shall Rule.
Glass towers. Fools. All of them. Carrying on blissfully in their own ignorance, for ignorance truly is bliss. And death. Bliss right up until that last moment, bliss and nothing else. Of course, what more can be expected? Commoners and fools all. They hardly deserve anything else. But they can't even understand that much, so they build glass towers on which to hoist their pennants and declare themselves...well, any number of ridiculous titles. It's a pity they can't all just be displaced en mass. A pity the labor of the masses is necessary to hold up the real towers, the stone towers of Khastenk.
No, that wouldn't be any good. Better to teach them. Better to have them know the truth, however long it takes. Kosmo had the right of it. Kosmo. Now there was a mage. Such power, to do what he did to the armies of Ramsalon A model for Khastenk to follow, the architect of the towers of the Yellow Church. He knew where true power lay, and how to wield it. He had founded the seeds of a new empire. It was a pity that he could not figure out how to circumvent time before it caught up with him. No one has, even to this day. There are ways, of course, but only a fool would step down those dark paths. Still, the seed nation grew, and Kosmo's wisdom remained, safe in the minds of those with the power to grasp it. Of course, most of it is obvious, at least to those same. That the people can not rule themselves, can not save themselves from themselves or from anyone else, is as obvious now as it was to Kosmo. That they must be guided by a firm hand. That they must be guided by minds of a higher order than their own, if they are to have any hope. And in return, the leadership asks little. Only to be recognized by the masses for what it is.
But Kosmo's ideal is a long way off, yet. Much work will have to be done. The Fist will hammer long and hard before the people are molded into what they should be, before the truth is beaten into their dim minds. Such is life. The stone towers will stand, and thus Khastenk has time. All the time in the world, to get it done tomorrow. The masses will learn what power is, and they will bow.