“I’ve forged many swords, and I’ve smithed a hundred times that many words. But I’m yet to create a good ruler for this city.” - Ogi whispered to himself as he was saddling his fateful mare.

Ogi’s interests spread beyond forging blades and legends. He wanted to shape fate itself.

Nava’s former ruler was a hotheaded fool driven by nothing but greed. Leaving such a jewel in his hands would’ve been the mistake of a century. So Ogi found a way to remind the merchants of a weapon called desert fire. It wasn’t the blacksmith who used it, he only made it. Seeing the city burn like a torch in a week was better than watching it rot for an entire generation.

Tens of men before Jassen threw Dreamer in Ogi’s feet and refused to rule the city. They wanted to destroy, not to build, and Ogi needed a builder. Time will show if he would have to dig out the desert fire formula again.

Metal served the blacksmith. Both the weapon in the ruler’s hand and the crown on his head.

Artists named their masterpieces, and Ogi called this one the dragonslayer. Shaping a man was much harder than forging a sword. For a blade, you need high temperature, a good hammer, and a strong arm to hold the hammer. But to make a man, you need to shape him from a child, to send him hardships and hope he’s made of the right material to withstand them.

While the sword takes a day, you need twenty years to shape a man without being able to see the results or guide him. You can’t make him of steel, only good stories. You don’t have the fire to soften him for smithing. Just the hope that the words you’ve forged will fall into the right years. So all you can do is hide in plain sight, somewhere where you can feed on people’s prayers while you wait for the moment to see your work of art.

“You said I have a monster in my, Jassen, just like you do. But you don’t understand. I don’t have a monster. I am the monster.” - Ogi whispered and mounted his mare.