Through covert and clandestine communication channels, Morgan clandestinely rendezvoused with Darius within the King's resplendent pavilion. In view of the fact that the entire army was under the martial command of Darius, the conclave between Morgan and Darius was conducted in a chamber, where only two individuals were present, namely Morgan and Darius. With a tone redolent of haughty self-importance, Darius interrogated Morgan in a supercilious manner, demanding him to state his intentions posthaste, as he deemed his time to be exorbitantly valuable to be squandered on a trifle such as Morgan.

In a posture of regal indolence, Darius reclined on the throne with his head thrown back, gazing down imperiously at Morgan from his elevated perch. Darius was imbued with a sense of grandiosity, akin to that of a monarch, radiating an air of self-assurance and poise. In terms of authority, Darius was second only to Dracule, the sovereign of the Assyrian Empire, the sole imperium in possession of the power and potency to unite the entire continent. Darius's immoderate self-esteem was not without justification, for he dreaded only one individual, namely Dracule.

With an expression of stoic composure, Morgan spoke in a calm, measured tone, his words imbued with an air of profundity and sagacity. "The philosopher Schopenhaur postulated that time is merely an illusion, while King Auther held a contrary belief. But unlike both of them, I subscribe to a different philosophy. For one cannot waste something that does not exist," he stated, a small smile playing on his lips. This was not a threat, but a subtle assertion of his importance. When confronted with those who regarded him as an inferior, Morgan sought to subdue them with his vast knowledge and wisdom, recognizing that true power lay in the possession of these qualities. And so he declared, "I have come to save you, Duke Darius."

Darius's response was one of incredulous amusement, his laughter echoing through the tent. "Ha ha ha! And with what, pray tell, Morgan of the coast? I know much about you - more than most men, in fact. But you? I have only heard your name. You are of no consequence to me. I may be humble, but the winds of change are fickle, and so am I," he retorted, his laughter subsiding gradually. As he surveyed Morgan, he regarded him with the disdain one might reserve for a clown or a jester. This bearded youth, or perhaps a diminutive man, even a dwarf, was of little consequence to him. Darius was the sole duke of the Assyrian Empire, and his might was staggering. Who could possibly pose a threat to him, particularly when he was surrounded by thousands of soldiers?

Morgan's expression remained stoic and unruffled, his tone measured and intelligent as he continued to speak. "My lord, you may find amusement in my words now, but they may be your last source of amusement. When Dracule breaches the walls of Norwich City, he will come for you next, and I assure you that he will not be laughing," he said, his voice gradually rising from a low murmur to a more forceful pitch. The time for games was over.

Darius's countenance underwent a rapid transformation, his formerly relaxed and leisurely demeanor replaced by an unyielding, unbreakable facade of stone. His posture was that of an unyielding monument, imbued with a sense of unshakable self-assurance. "Bold words from such a little man, to dare to threaten me with such baseless lies," he said, his voice taking on a more poetic, lyrical quality as he spoke.

Morgan, unfazed by Darius's verbal posturing, calmly continued, "I am the messenger of the Hundred Nation League," he declared, his voice ringing with authority and conviction.

Darius paused, his expression inscrutable, before speaking once more, his voice deep and resonant. "Ah, so you are an emissary of the coalition," he mused, his eyes fixed on Morgan's face. "Tell me, are you here to surrender, to bend the knee to the might of the Assyrian Empire?"

Morgan's reply was swift and unambiguous, "On the contrary, I have come to persuade Duke Darius to work with us to end Dracule together," he said, his voice brimming with a sense of purpose and conviction.

Darius was momentarily taken aback by Morgan's words, his heart thumping within his chest. He rose to his feet, his fiery red hair tied back in a ponytail, swaying as he moved. Despite his towering height, twice that of the diminutive Morgan, he regarded him as an equal, his heart stirred by the seed of a newfound resolve, yet the cruel reality still lingers.

Darius' heart was heavy as Morgan's words weighed upon him. Morgan spoke of Dracule's treachery and how he killed even the innocent, beheading nobles and ministers. Darius knew this to be true, for Dracule had not spared even his own son, the crown prince. Now, his only remaining child was but a babe.

Morgan urged Darius to join forces with the hundred nation league and defeat Dracule, to seek the power of God and become immortal. But Darius was a rational man, yet his heart yearned for revenge, but he could not bring himself to believe that Dracule could be defeated.

Morgan's expression didn't falter as he watched Darius silently. The weight of the conversation hung heavily in the air, with both men lost in thought. Finally, Darius broke the silence with a deep, rumbling laugh that made Morgan uneasy. "Oh, you are quite the persuasive one, Morgan of the coast. I almost forgot the joy of being alive," he said, his tone carrying a hint of dark humor. "But alas, even the power of the gods cannot guarantee victory over Dracule. He is a force of nature, a monster with strength beyond measure. You're asking me to throw away my life for a hopeless cause. I am a rational man, Morgan, and I cannot follow a path to certain death."

Morgan's expression remained stoic, but inside he was seething with frustration. He had failed to convince the Duke, and with each passing moment, the chance of saving his people from Dracule's wrath dwindled. But he couldn't give up, not yet. "My lord, I understand your concerns, but we have to do something. If we don't stand up to Dracule, then who will? He will continue to spread his tyranny, and we will all be at his mercy. We have to try, we have to fight. And even if we don't succeed, at least we will have fought for what is right."

Darius shook his head, his face now serious. "You are a brave man, Morgan, but you are also a naive one. The world is not black and white, and the concept of right and wrong is nothing more than a human construct. In the end, it's survival of the fittest. And right now, Dracule is the fittest of them all. I suggest you leave now, before it's too late."

If word of Darius' meeting with Morgan leaked, it would undoubtedly put both of their lives in danger. Knowing this, Darius made it clear that he would have to dispose of Morgan before any such information could get out. After all, a dead man tells no tales.

Morgan, however, was not one to back down easily. His heart raced as he retorted with a blatant challenge to Darius, "Are you such a coward?" In response, Darius remained collected and intelligent, speaking in a way that suggested he was fully aware of the stakes at play.

"Godly power or not, what man does not desire it?" he asked. "But a million men cannot kill Dracule. What makes you believe we can take him on, even with a thousand of me, the situation would still be hopeless."

Morgan refused to give up, countering with a poetic and confident response that showed he was not intimidated by Dracule's power. "You're wrong," he said. "It's true that Dracule is strong, but you forgot something. He's just a man like you and me, flesh and bone. He's no god, otherwise he wouldn't bleed. As long as we work together to isolate and trap him, we can kill this demon."

Darius, impressed by Morgan's boldness, smiled in agreement. "Possible!" he exclaimed, before Morgan took out a map from his pocket and pointed to an area in the Sunset Mountains, close to Norwich City.

"Seems familiar?" Darius asked, to which Morgan added, "This is where King Auther was buried."

As Darius cast his mind back to the fateful battle in Norwich, the memory of Dracule's strategic brilliance flooded his senses. The imposing figure of the enemy commander leading his cavalry to intercept the allies' troop of the Holy Empire was burned into his mind. In particular, Darius vividly recalled the devastating chase that ensued, in which Dracule had pursued the Babylonian Empire's army into a steep valley nestled amidst the Sunset Mountains.

It was here that the Emperor himself met his gruesome end at the hands of Dracule, in a battle that would go down in history as one of the greatest ever fought. Indeed, it was the first time that an emperor had been felled by the sword of another. The impact on the morale of the Assyrian Empire army was immeasurable, with a surge of pride and confidence coursing through their ranks.

And so it was that, when Morgan proposed a plan to lure Dracule into the same valley where he had tasted victory before, Darius's heart quickened with excitement. The prospect of avenging their previous defeat was too enticing to resist. "Pray tell, good sir, what is your design?" he inquired, his eyes alight with anticipation.

Morgan's response was suffused with a triumphant grin as he explained the intricacies of their scheme. In just a few days, they would feign a retreat from Norwich, heading towards the valley and the Sunset Mountains. Dracule, they knew, would be unable to resist the temptation to chase them, and would lead his cavalry straight into their trap. The coup de grace would be Darius and his army blocking the valley exit point, rendering Dracule and his men little more than helpless prey. The satisfaction of their revenge would be sweet indeed.

As Morgan expounded upon their intricate plans, his finger tracing the twists and turns of the map before them, Darius listened with a stony countenance. His mind was awash with an intensity of emotion that could not be read upon his face, for his thoughts churned with the complexity of their strategy. Every nuance, every detail was accounted for, a chessboard of warring factions and shifting alliances.

It was a plan, he thought to himself, that would be the envy of kings and the bane of foes. But as Morgan concluded, speaking of a sacrificial ceremony and the end of the war, Darius's expression shifted ever so slightly. His eyes flickered with a fervor that belied his composed demeanor.

"Very well," he intoned, his voice low and dangerous. "Inform the craven lords of the alliance that I, Darius of the house of Fann, shall join in their game of chase. And when we have lured Dracule into our trap, he will be nothing but a rat in a cage." A manic laugh escaped his lips, the fire in his eyes burning bright.

He turned his gaze towards the throne, his desire unquenchable. The prospect of victory and glory was a siren song, beckoning him forward. And in that moment, Darius knew that he would stop at nothing to achieve his goal, to crush his enemy and seize the spoils of war. For in the battle that lay ahead, only the strongest would emerge victorious, and Darius was determined to emerge the conqueror.