With that, the kobolds packed up their things and once again, found themselves without home. Rughoi, of course, had to get one last triumph in. He ordered everything mobile to be taken, and every building burnt, for he knew the only people to come to the city would be dracon. The walls, however, he could not bring himself to ruin. They were beautiful, gray flagstone lined with marble. The kobold's hand had been forever left on those walls, in the form of their humble granite work filling in the cracks. Such a wall deserved to be preserved, to remember a time of glory. Soon, a city of people were on the road, leaving no living creature behind them. Wheelbarrows full of life possessions made their mark in the sand. Rughoi looked forward, not back, to greater things, as is the duty of the Son of the Dragons.

The new home, as Kutur had predicted, was a beautiful untouched land. The twin rivers jutting out of the Belayon crashed together in a white torrent, and flowed downstream to where it would end at Naushindcalgoa. Already, the sounds of hammering and sawing filled the air, as the kobolds set to work on the little scraps of wood they brought with them. They built kobold houses, a good size for them, as opposed to the too-large dracon homes.

"The Xigyll River Valley," Rughoi said. "Mark it down on the map. Our empire will make its home right here, where Scen has blessed with growth, where Hetuis lays its tail." The beginnings of a humble hillfort had been begun just a ways away, and he saw in his mind's eye a castle that would be the envy of the world. 

"Now, Rughoi, you had promised me a day by the water," Ardasa said, smiling slyly and walking up to her betrothed. She stood next to him and gazed out at where the rivers converged. For once, he didn't look tired or mad. He looked like an emperor.