“I’ll stay here.”

“Here, in the ruins?”

“Yes. We’ll live in Nava.”

“Didn’t you see the locals? Don’t mind the talks of fire. They’ll tear you apart. This is hardly a job for your band. You’ll need an army to get this place back in order.”

“I’ll find one. The treasury under the keep is still full. I wonder why no one’s ransacked it, though.”

“Who would dare with a dragon to protect it?”

“Tell the people what happened here today, blacksmith. Tell them I slew it. They’ll come to me - some to fight, some to kneel.”

“Boy, even if you get the villagers to believe you and they help you rebuild, there are bolyars who will make claims over this city the second they hear the dragon is gone. Nobles will do everything to find a trace in their lineage that can get them here. They’ll march on you - with their siege weapons, horses, and soldiers. They won’t let you rule over Nava.”

“They can do as they wish. I will do as I must. In ten years, we’ll see who has a better claim to the land. The monster’s hungry, Ogi.”

Jassen detached the cloak from his shoulders and watched it as it glided to the ash-covered ground. He knelt next to it and spread it like a bedsheet before him.

“Bozmaroff, give me the quill.” - Jassen said.

The bard fished a quill for his friend, who, in turn, started writing on the cloak. Not sentences, not words but names. He moved the tip of the quill slowly, carefully. Writing every letter with care.

“What’s he doing?” - the blacksmith asked.

“He’s writing down the names of everyone he’s lost on the way here. He remembers every single one of them.” - Olena replied

And as the cloak got drenched in ink, Ogi realized what a feat this was. When he was finished, Jassen unbuckled the sheathe from his waist and handed Dreamer back to the blacksmith.

“I guess I won’t be fighting any monsters.”

“Keep it. You’ll be fighting worse things.”

They spoke during the whole night in front of the ghost city. The pale face of one of the ashenfolk appeared on the wall every now and then, watching them. Not a single light was coming out of the most important port this country could ever have. It was the last normal conversation Jassen, Niko, Olena, and Bozmaroff would have for a long time. Tomorrow they become usurpers, saviors, and rulers. Pigeons would carry messages from keep to keep, telling of Nava’s new lord. He’ll see the hope in people’s eyes as they come looking for a home and the ridicule in others as they dismiss his claims of the city. He’ll keep the monster busy, and in time the black city before them could once again fill its shores with boats and ships.

They said their goodbyes the next morning, and the blacksmith rode his mare back to Rhana.