The situation inside the city of Norwich was chaotic and tense, with soldiers bickering and arguing, causing disorder and confusion within the city walls. Despite the magnificent temple dedicated to the god Gaia, which stood tall and proud within the city, the outside world was a scene of turmoil and commotion. The leaders of various countries, both emperors and princes, were gathered in a heated debate, the atmosphere thick with tension as they each vied for power and control. The discussion was as wild as a tornado, with everyone trying to assert their dominance and make their voices heard, while the statue of Gaia watched over them, a silent witness to the chaos. The once great city was now filled with unrest and uncertainty, as the leaders of the nations struggled to maintain the fragile alliance that was holding the alliance together.

The tension within the hall was visible, as the leaders of the various kingdoms and empires struggled to come to a consensus. The first Prince of the Babylonian Empire, fueled by fear and desperation, was leading the charge for withdrawal. His words echoed through the hall, stirring up similar sentiments among the other rulers.

The situation was complicated by the fact that the original leader of the Babylonian Empire, the Emperor, had been caught in Dracule's trap and beheaded. This added to the unease and instability within the kingdom, as the throne was now empty and the future uncertain.

Despite the pleas of some wise councillors, who argued that retreating now would only lead to their eventual surrender to Dracule's tyranny, the possibility of a full-scale withdrawal loomed over the gathering. The thought of facing the madman and his immense power was enough to make even the bravest of soldiers quake in fear.

"We are in a predicament," the Emperor of Achaemenid continued, "but giving up is not an option. We must find a way to rally our troops and lift their morale. If we stand united, we have a chance against Dracule and his army. Our allies, the smaller kingdoms and Independent City States, must also join us in this fight. We must not let fear control us, or we will surely fall."

As the discussion continued, the tension in the room grew palpable. The fate of the alliance and their armies hung in the balance, and the consequences of their decisions would determine the outcome of the war. The wise men, who had previously persuaded those who wanted to leave, now stood up to offer their counsel and support. They spoke of the bravery and determination of their soldiers and the importance of maintaining their unity in the face of adversity.

"We must remember why we are here," one wise man said. "We are fighting for our freedom, for our families, and for our way of life. We cannot let Dracule and his thirst for power destroy all that we hold dear. We must stand together, and we must fight."

"We are running out of options, but we must find a way to defeat Dracule," the Head Saint added. "His power is beyond our imagination and his army is vast, but we must not give up hope. The 50 Ballista may be our only chance of defeating him, but we must also consider other options. We cannot solely rely on them to save us. We need to think of a strategy that will ensure our survival and defeat the enemy."

The King of Nortopia nodded in agreement. "Yes, we cannot rely on just defending ourselves. We must come up with a plan that will give us the upper hand in the war. Our food supplies are indeed running low and our soldiers are tired, but we cannot let that defeat us. We must find a way to turn the tides of the war and defeat Dracule once and for all."

The room was filled with tense energy as a voice suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence. Heads turned towards the source of the voice, and all eyes fell upon a young man who stood confidently before the assembly. Despite his youthful appearance, he spoke with authority and conviction, capturing the attention of everyone present.

"Lords and King," the young man began, his voice steady and unwavering. "I stand before you today with a plan, a plan to not only alleviate the troubles that afflict us, but to also retrieve the Sword of God and attain the power that is rightfully ours in this world."

The young man's words were bold and ambitious, sparking a mixture of intrigue and skepticism among those present. Some were intrigued by his confidence, while others wondered how a young man could possibly possess the means to solve the crisis and seize world power. Regardless, all eyes were fixed upon the young man, waiting to hear the details of his plan

The room was filled with the sound of laughter as the first Prince of the Babylonian empire sneered at the young man before him. The Prince was known for his arrogance and disdain for anyone he deemed to be beneath him, and this young man with his simple robes and unkempt beard was no exception.

"Who are you, speak fool?" The Prince jeered, his laughter echoing through the room. The young man stood tall, his expression calm and collected, as he waited for the Prince's laughter to subside.

Just as the Prince was about to continue his ridicule, a voice spoke up from the back of the room. "He's little Morgan, the new lord of Rapo city-state." The speaker was an older man, who seemed to know the young man well. His words caught the attention of the Prince and the rest of the lords, and they turned to look at him in surprise.

Little Morgan, the lord of Rapo? The thought echoed through the room, as the lords and the Prince tried to make sense of the information. This young man, who they had written off as a fool, was actually a lord of a city-state? The revelation was met with stunned silence, as the lords and the Prince tried to process the information.

Morgan stood tall, his eyes meeting the Prince's gaze. Despite his youthful appearance and the Prince's laughter, he held himself with the confidence and dignity of a lord. The Prince's sneer faded, replaced by a look of surprise, as he realized that he had underestimated this young man. The room fell silent, as the lords and the Prince waited to hear what Little Morgan had to say next.

Rapo City-state was a well-known place in the southeast, nestled next to the coast. Despite its small size, it was a wealthy city-state, known for its abundant resources and thriving commerce. Its army, however, was small, consisting of only a few thousand troops. In the hundred-nation coalition forces, Rapo held a low status in terms of military power, but its wealth was unmatched.

As for Little Morgan, his name was a result of the cultural traditions of the southern countries. In this culture, when a man named Morgen had a son, he would be referred to as Little Morgan. When the father passed away, the son's name would naturally become simply Morgan.

This meant that Little Morgan, to be more precise, should now be known simply as Morgan. This change in name was a result of the recent passing of his father, as he had assumed the mantle of lord of Rapo City-state. Despite his youth, he was now in charge of one of the wealthiest city-states in the region, tasked with the responsibility of leading his troops.