The blue dragon's instincts had not been wrong.
Rowan Mercer truly possessed countless ways to erase a dragon's soul completely.
He simply chose not to use them.
Not yet.
Revealing that level of power too early would attract attention he had no interest in dealing with.
But the dragon didn't know that.
All she knew was fear.
Pure, overwhelming fear.
"I… I will submit," the dragon said, her massive body trembling beneath Rowan's hand. "Spare my life, and I will serve you."
"Good."
Rowan relaxed his grip slightly.
Without casting a spell, he split off a sliver of his own soul and anchored it within the dragon's essence.
It wasn't a binding contract.
It didn't enslave her.
But it allowed Rowan to sense her location at all times and communicate with her mentally.
More importantly, it meant escape was pointless.
If she fled too far, Rowan would find her.
And next time, mercy would not be guaranteed.
The dragon's submission wasn't loyalty.
It was survival.
That was enough.
"Warrior… are you injured?"
Jarl Korir had finally found his voice. He approached the edge of the crater with several guards, staring down at Rowan and the battered dragon.
Rowan leapt out of the pit in a single motion.
"I'm fine," he said. "My name is Rowan Mercer. I'm an adventurer. The dragon is under control. It won't attack again."
Korir stared at the dragon, which was shakily pulling itself upright.
"Under control…"
He had just witnessed the impossible.
Dragons were legends.
And this man had not only defeated one…
He had tamed it.
Before Korir could gather his thoughts, footsteps echoed from the far end of the street.
A dark elf in ornate robes approached, followed by a large group of mages.
"Jarl Korir," the newcomer said, "what happened here?"
Korir forced a polite smile, though dislike flickered briefly in his eyes.
"Arch-Mage Savos Aren. A dragon attacked Winterhold. This warrior drove it off and subdued it. We owe him our lives."
Savos Aren turned toward Rowan, astonishment clear on his face.
He had seen Rowan strike the dragon from the sky.
Even so, hearing that the creature had been subdued rather than slain pushed the feat into another realm entirely.
Defeating a dragon was rare.
Subjugating one was unheard of.
"You have my thanks," Savos said, inclining his head. "Winterhold stands because of you."
Korir cleared his throat.
"Rowan Mercer, for saving this city and preventing further loss of life, I name you Champion of Winterhold. You will also receive a reward of ten thousand septims."
The title carried no political power.
But it carried prestige.
Champions were honored defenders of a city, individuals whose deeds placed them above ordinary mercenaries.
They were permitted to purchase property, were treated with respect by guards, and given broad leniency under local law.
More importantly, Korir wanted someone like Rowan tied to Winterhold.
Someone who might answer if disaster struck again.
Rowan considered for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Thank you, Jarl Korir. I accept."
Savos Aren looked toward the battered dragon, curiosity burning behind his eyes.
"Dragons have been gone for millennia. Why are they returning now?"
Rowan shrugged lightly.
"Hard to say. But maybe our guest can explain."
He glanced at the blue dragon.
"Can't you?"