Raistlin was taken aback. He had expected to see an old, withering man sitting in his throne looking out a window at his kingdom. What he saw was quite the opposite. It was of a youth. This man had to be very young, and for him to be sitting atop this throne of darkness was appealing to the pale skinned newcomer. Raistlin made his way over to the desk and without an invitation he took a seat in one of the lush leather chairs opposite this King. He folded his hands in his lap, never taking his eyes off of his new acquaintance.

"I am Raistlin. I know what you are Sith, and I am here to learn. Only with this power you hold in your hands am I granted the revenge that is rightfully mine."

Raistlin knew that he needed this power, yearned to learn this power. There were stories about the Sith. About how they were able to make even the most strongest of men bend to their will.