The Guard had set up a perimeter around the cadaver and marked it off with extra-bright glowglobes, defying the shroud of night that would have otherwise enveloped it. From above I could see that it covered more than a city block, which even down in Goblintown made for a lot of ground for a single creature. The Guard had roped off the Emperor’s corpse with a silver chain I’m sure was enchanted from one end to the other. Maybe it was there to keep the Ruler of the Dead from taking over the Dragon’s corpse. Or it could have been some kind of elf idea of funeral decoration. I don’t know the last time anyone had tried to bury a dragon. Of course, we hadn’t had any burials in Dragon City ever, as far as I knew. It had been all cremations or — as I’d recently discovered — a spot on the Dragon’s dining table for centuries, ever since the Imperial Pact had been forged. We were in new territory here, at least for most residents of Dragon City. The Dragon Emperor had ruled over the city since its founding, and we knew little of any kind of life without him.
