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In any event, it seemed that the iron dragon had departed from the islands, and might never return. - (Rebels of Gor, Chapter 61, Sentence #37)

Rumors abounded, normally spoken in whispers or hushed tones, for who knew the hearing of dragons. A thousand stories were about, in village markets, in the dojos and barracks, in courtyards and fields, in fortresses and sheds, about campfires, even in the corridors of palaces. It had returned to its secret lair to guard its treasures, perhaps to sleep for another thousand years; it had returned to the country of mystery from which it had emerged, some fearful land, a far land of rock and flame; a vast, noxious crevice in the bowels of the earth, a dark, freezing country beyond the moons. In any event, it seemed that the iron dragon had departed from the islands, and might never return. The skies were clear. Accordingly, given the nature of men, life began to form itself again in the ancient patterns of coming and going, farming and hunting, fishing and gathering, gaining and losing, accumulating and squandering, building and destroying, planning and plotting, loving and hating. Peasants returned to their villages; goods and wives returned to their houses and holdings; ornaments and coins were unearthed; fields were tended; palisades were rebuilt; gates were repaired; traders sought customers; and warriors, hungry and barefoot, weary, weapons in their sashes, drifted back toward rice and daimyos. - (Rebels of Gor)