The first few days after Black Iron City fell were even quieter than the night of the battle.
It rained three times, with low-lying dark clouds.
Occasionally, the echo of iron boots could be heard from deep within the streets, but it quickly vanished at the corner of the alley.
Hungry residents huddled inside their crumbling houses, window latches deadbolted, door cracks stuffed with cloth.
When a child cried, the mother would cover their mouth, and the elderly recited prayers to the Dragon Ancestor, yet dared not make a sound.
They waited for the "man-eating demons of the Northern Territory" to start looting, kidnapping, burning, waiting for the streets to be littered with corpses and their doors to be kicked open.
But nothing happened.
Two more days passed. When hunger became unbearable, someone cautiously pushed open the door crack a sliver.
They thought they would see streets filled with blood and chaotic looting scenes.
