The cold morning air bit at the assembled leaders, a stark contrast to the thousands of battleships and warships that blotted out the sky above the Ogres' Nation. Each vessel, bearing the sigil of a different race, formed a silent, menacing canopy.
Representatives and royalty from the most powerful races floated, their gazes fixed on the forbidding silhouette of the Ogres' Castle.
"I didn't expect you to be here, Zoey," said Cain, the eldest son of the Dragon Nation, his voice a low, rumbling baritone. He was magnificent in a suit of black and gold Grand Class armor, though his focus wasn't on the war-readiness of the crowd, but on the princess beside him.
Zoey, representing the Elves, merely rolled her eyes, the gesture a practiced dismissal of his perceived arrogance. Her silver armor gleamed, a contrast to Cain's more brute-force aesthetic.
