Emerett re-entered the barn with Junior and Ambrose trailing behind him, the young artist carrying a small box. “We brought breakfast!” he shouted cheerfully, obviously excited. Luke wondered if his enthusiasm would hold if he shared the lengths Lazarus was willing to go to for a contract. He kept his silence as he accepted several buns and a steaming mug.

“Where did you get this?” There weren’t any eateries nearby.

“The old man let us borrow his kitchen,” Ambrose said jovially.

“I thought we were supposed to avoid attention,” he grumped. He’d refrained from so much as taking a stroll for fear of drawing attention to the barn and they had dropped in to fix a cozy meal. Even if they never said a word to the old man, the size of the meal would have revealed their numbers. Careless.

“Fen was there,” Junior said dismissively.

Ah. Not careless. With the thrall’s presence, the man would only remember what they wanted him to. So, a Grimoire lurked beneath the mask of a Mason after all. At least he had the presence of mind to leave his pet outside. They would not want their guest to grow suspicious.

Breakfast was attended leisurely, as all last meals should be, and they wasted no time getting to the event. Lazarus was given a drink to settle his nerves, Emerett refreshed the group on the basic rules of summoning Luke felt they should know better than their mothers, they found their positions, and the summoning began.

Lazarus knelt at the edge of the circle and channeled his mana into the drawing. His wind affinity had little hue of its own, merely brightening the paint on the ground. The summoner of the last drakkon said the creature had a coefficient of around two thousand. To be safe, they decided Lazarus should bind the circle with two hundred-fifty units.

For a man with no talent in growing his core, that was nearly everything he had. He managed but by the end, he was panting, sweating profusely, and visibly in pain. Ambrose stepped forward and helped him into a chair that had been placed for just that reason.

While Lazarus wheezed and groaned, the space above the circle rippled. A silver rift appeared in the center of it, growing until it reached the barn’s ceiling, before widening until it was wide enough for three carriages to pass through, side-by-side. There was a beat of tense silence where Luke instinctively took several steps back. Then the drakkon stepped through.

A reptilian head large enough to swallow a horse hole with room to spare covered in scales the color of polished steel poked through, rising up on a sinuous neck. Four slightly curved horns sprouted from the corners of its brow, a black mane streaked with hairs of sky blue starting between them and going down its neck. Two dark whiskers on either side of its snout moved through the air as if buoyed by a gentle current.

Irises as white as a cloud flicked over the summoners before settling on Lazarus. The drakkon opened its mouth, flashing two rows of jagged teeth. There was no doubt that they were meant to shred meat.

“And what manner of creature are you?”

Luke flinched. They had prepared all manner of ways to communicate with the creature, starting with hoping it somehow would know Common, it was never wise to assume what an elemental knew, and ending with drawings. The last thing they’d expected was whatever had just happened.

The elemental had spoken but not through sound. It was if the world itself had conveyed the message. Luke had understood the words with his whole being rather than his ears. Such an ability impressed him more than the drakkon’s size, coefficient, or any of the stories he’d heard. It implied mastery on a level none of them understood.

All his instincts said they should leave this summoning. Find another way. Unfortunately, his comrades didn’t share those instincts. Certainly not the man chosen to form the contract. He was clearly still suffering from mana strain but that wasn’t enough to dull his excitement as he looked at the drakkon with shining eyes.

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“I greet you, great conqueror.”

The drakkon rumbled. His ears heard a warning from a predator. His being correctly interpreted the sound as a light chuckle. “Not ignorant. Good. It is always tedious when I am called by happenstance. Then? You have called seeking a conqueror?”

“Yes. I am a man of ambition and vision but lack strength.”

“And it is strength I have. I am also a creature of ambition and vision. I can tell from your gate that your realm has treasures and food that might suit me but so do hundreds of realms, including my own. Why should I bind myself to such a weak creature?”

“What we have presented is not even a fraction of the riches our realm has to offer. My people may not seem like much but each of us has unmatched potential if nurtured.”

“Perhaps you are ignorant of my kind. We do not nurture.”

“Such a menial task would be left to me of course. A conqueror such as yourself will only need to interest yourself with higher pursuits, such as defeating powerful enemies.”

“From your kind?” The drakkon’s disbelief was so strong, Luke could practically taste it.

“No. Our realm is home to many different creatures. Those who can rival you in size, power, and mastery. Those who need no mastery at all, magic bending to their whims like an eager servant.”

The drakkon’s eyes narrowed. An intimidating gesture in most situations but it was meant to communicate pleasure. “I don’t taste deceit from you. Then this realm has servants, treasure, and proper opponents. Tell me. Does it have large bodies of water?”

Lazarus didn’t hesitate on the awkward question for even a moment. “Our world is filled with great oceans whose depths have never been seen.”

The drakkon rumbled in pleasure. “Good. You have piqued my interest, fleshy one. Now, as for the contract. You know enough about me. Do you know what your place is?”

“I understand my place well, conqueror. But as I said, I am ambitious.”

“You should be fulfilled to work for one as great as me.”

“I would be. What I ask is nothing that would interest you, conqueror. Treasures only to men.”

“Hm. That is not enough. Loyalty must be practiced. Devotion must be proved.” The drakkon paused, rumbling in thought. “I am not interested in your fleshy race or any kingdom you would have built. If you wish to rule the other vermin, very well, but you will rule them in my stead and turn this supposed potential to my goals. With each cycle of this world’s moon, you will present a tribute to me, be it martial or precious in nature. If I do not like it, I will devour you.

“Your kingdom will also fight for me. If you don’t, I will devour you. And you, my potential contractor, will make several oaths to me. You will not lie to me, to any degree. You will obey my orders fully and without delay. You will not act against me or my agendas. You will not attempt to take your own life. Understood?”

Luke mentally patted himself on the shoulder. A contract was extremely dependent on inviting the right elemental to the circle. He had done exactly what they asked of him, drawing in what could be the only reasonable drakkon in the realm. Her terms, at least he hoped it was a her, were downright charitable compared to what they expected. The last summoner to contract a drakkon had been forced to worship the creature every day at the crack of dawn until it was satisfied with his efforts.

Though he was afraid the creature was being too reasonable. He didn’t blame the creature for expecting so little from them and the contract certainly favored the drakkon but he didn’t like it. He had finely tuned instincts when it came to summoning and they were screaming at him that something was wrong. Particularly the question about their oceans. It was strange and unexpected. Luke could handle one of those in his summonings but never both.

“Your terms are charitable, conqueror. I do not mean to offend but I must present terms of my own.” Lazarus waited for the drakkon to make a sound of approval before listing them. “I must be properly cared for. Harvest, the kingdom of humans, must not be destroyed. Allow me to protect and nurture them as I see fit once they have bowed to your will.”

Another rumble of approval. “You are aware of your station, fleshy one. Your terms are agreeable.”

Luke mentally berated the creature that clearly didn’t share his instincts for a bad summon. Of course they had offered the creature favorable terms. They didn’t care what the drakkon asked for as, soon, the elemental would no longer have a will of its own. It had demanded that Lazarus not lie to it, undoubtedly to unearth any schemes once their contract was made, but Lazarus didn’t know about any schemes. While Luke and Ambrosia worked on the circle, Lazarus submitted himself to the care of the succubi. He no longer had knowledge of the next stages of their plan.

“I am humbled, conqueror.”

“Then we—"

The drakkon paused. Then it quickly ducked its head back through the rift from whence it emerged, abruptly ending the negotiation.

“NO!” Lazarus abruptly jumped to his feet. He would have toppled over it not for the chair, one of his hands blindly finding the back and holding onto it with a white-knuckled grip. “Wha—"

His words trailed off as the silver rift turned black.

Every summoner in the room had a moment to freeze with shock as something they hadn’t called emerged from the gate to their realm.