As Ogi rode off, he saw Nava’s new banner hanging on top of its broken wall. A cloak covered with names. He passed by the scene of Jassen’s massacre and saw the bodies of the fallen soldiers already stripped of their clothes and valuables. No one bothered to bury them, but the earth will have them just the same. Only the cripple was missing.

Ogi came back to the shop, fed the horse, and fell into the embrace of routine again. Winter came, and with that, the first rumors about the dragonslayer filled the city. Beggars and nobles spoke about the man living in Nava together with his band of warriors. Clients asked about him jokingly. Painters immortalized him in their paintings, standing over the dragon’s lifeless body.

Ogi stood closer to the fire for warmth and hope. Winters passed, and the fate of the port city was forged. Armies marched, some to support, some to besiege. The road and the plains around the city were full of crimson flowers, and the vultures were feasting. After the wars, came the famine. Fields watered with blood don’t give fruit. After the famine, came the sickness. Because when food doesn’t flow into the city, people turn to the illness-filled rats to quelch their hunger.

But after the toll was paid and the city stood, then the merchants arrived again.

The boats trickled back in. The dragonslayer, that’s what they called him. The man who won back Nava. The man who held it. What was only a few brave merchants eager to make a profit quickly became a flock of traders pouring into the port to sign contracts for commerce.

“There was never a dragon!” - some yelled in the streets.

But their screams were lost in the chants of revelry as Nava was once again breathing, and their steps trampled what was left of the ashes.