The wind did not blow.
Draegor stood at the edge of his war camp, watching as the distant figure of the messenger disappeared into the horizon. His golden eyes did not leave the direction ahead even as his generals waited on his next order.
The message had been succinct.
Ainz Ooal Gown had called upon him for a meeting of sovereigns.
This was no declaration of war.
It was something far more insidious—a game of control, influence, and power.
Draegor turned, his black armor creaking as he strode back towards the middle of the camp. His presence was enough to create a ripple of doubt among his undead soldiers, but no one opposed him.
For now, there would be no battle.
But the war was far from over.
Preparing for the Summit
Inside the grand war tent, Draegor's highest commanders were already present. The big wooden table, which had been laden with maps and battle strategies, now only had one item on it—the sealed scroll bearing Ainz Ooal Gown's symbol.
The candles flickered, casting foreboding shadows down the length of the tent.
Korrak, the skeletal general, was the first to speak. "This could be a trap, my lord. If he wishes to assassinate you without all-out war, what better way than to lure you into a controlled environment?"
Draegor smiled a little. "If he'd wished to kill us, he'd have done so already."
Synthia, the red and black-clad sorceress, folded her arms over the table. "Perhaps he wishes to try your intentions, as you have been trying his."
"Yes." Draegor tapped one armored finger on the scroll. "Ainz Ooal Gown is a cautious leader. He does not waste his power needlessly, nor does he underestimate his enemies. This audience is him trying to determine what kind of threat I pose."
Korrak's vacant eye sockets glowed gently. "And what will you tell him?"
Draegor's expression darkened somewhat. "Nothing he does not already suspect."
There was no need to reveal his hand. Not yet.
In the meantime, he would play the role of an ambitious sovereign—but not yet an enemy.
Synthia's eyes were narrowed on him. "And if he demands loyalty?"
Draegor's lips curled into a snarl. "Then I shall remind him that true power does not kneel so easily."
There was a low growl of agreement from the commanders.
In spite of their army being vast, in spite of their strength being undeniable, they were not yet prepared for total war with the unknown quantity that was Nazarick.
This council would decide the destiny of this land.
And Draegor was going to ensure that it ended on his terms.
Choosing an Escort
The sun was beginning to set by the time Draegor stepped out of his tent. The sky was painted in hues of red and purple, the air cool and heavy with anticipation.
His army was still, a vast sea of undead warriors standing in perfect formation, awaiting their master's next command.
But Draegor would not be leading them.
No, for this meeting, a small guard would do.
He looked at the three who stood before him—his personal guard, the crème de la crème of his army.
1. Korrak – The skeletal general, brilliant strategist and Draegor's most preferred commander.
2. Synthia – The sorceress, adept in dark magic and expert in supernatural energies.
3. Velgrin – A giant, armored wraith with a massive halberd, silent but deadly.
These three were enough to show strength without belligerence.
Draegor needed no army at his back. He was his own army.
With a single motion, he invited them to follow.
"We ride at dawn."
The meeting had been set.
All that remained now was to discover what kind of ruler Ainz Ooal Gown truly was.
The Stillness Before the Storm
As the moon rose high in the sky, Draegor stood alone at the edge of his camp, his gaze directed toward the distant fortress of Nazarick.
There were no stars tonight—only darkness stretching out endlessly beyond the horizon.
And in that darkness, he felt the presence of something watching him.
A faint, almost imperceptible energy lingered in the air.
Perhaps it was Ainz himself.
Perhaps it was one of his minions.
Either way, Draegor didn't look away.
Rather, he smiled.
Let them stare.
Let them speculate.
By tomorrow, they would stand as equals.
And then the game would begin in earnest.