History records that Jantara was never truly conquered. There was no siege, no campaign of attrition, no parley at the gates. When the end came, the city did not fall—it was burned.
The walled city-state, already rotted from within, became a pyre. The legions of Bantos declared there would be no slaves taken, and every ear understood the rest: there would be no prisoners taken either. The jackals who did not perish in the flames fled into the alleys and countryside, only to be hunted, one by one, until the city was cleansed of its masters and the age of the jackal was truly over.
No monument was left. No quarter was given. The ruin itself became the warning: here, where arrogance met its reckoning, nothing was spared and nothing forgiven. The Dogfolk who entered that place did so not as liberators, but as executioners—and they left behind not a city, but a lesson scorched into the stones.