Chapter 64: Dangerous Friend

Remembering that he had not inspected his domain in many years, Sakavi felt it necessary to see for himself what the fruits of decades of development had become. Several days later, at a mist-shrouded dawn, glistening droplets hung from the black basalt walls of Agrik. Sakavi took flight from the peak of the royal palace, beginning his tour of the domain.

In truth, to the domain’s residents, dragons were an ordinary, even annoying presence. Since the first cohort of students arrived at the Agrik Dragon Beast Academy twenty-three years ago, they had never ceased causing havoc across the Bohe Plain. Nearby villagers frequently caught colorful juvenile dragons and brought them to Clausuna to exchange for coin.

The one who complained most was Tali; half the Security Force’s duties involved dealing with colorful dragons setting fires and stealing. Many of these dragons had turned arson into an art—remote ignition, alcohol ignition, lens-focused flames. Even Morax, as a child, had stolen a pig-man’s ox at night and sold it the next day at the Agrik port, falsely claiming it was imported from the Loka Plain.

After years of effort, Sakavi finally admitted that the prejudice against colorful dragons was justified—even the metallic dragons had been corrupted by them, joining in arson and theft. But metallic dragons preferred to leave stolen livestock in the village next door to the owner; they didn’t lack money or food—they simply enjoyed playing tricks.

Later, Sakavi ordered harsh punishment for these children, and an amusing phenomenon emerged: colorful dragons painted themselves to impersonate metallic dragons, and the metallic dragons did the same. Helpless, Sakavi finally ordered them assigned endless tasks, keeping them away from home.

Looking down from the city walls, streets crisscrossed like a chessboard, with figures of different races moving among them, shops lining the avenues, carts and horses clattering, noise governed by its own efficient rhythm. In a narrow alley, several juvenile dragons, no longer than three meters, crept in secret observation—moments later, they vanished under the Qugan of law enforcers.

In Sakavi’s entire governance structure, balance always came first. Law enforcers held no special privileges as in other lands; in the duchy, their authority blended that of urban inspectors and traffic police. Due to the domain’s unique conditions, they also adjudicated disputes between small vendors and residents.

Soaring beyond the city walls, the Bohe Plain stretched like a vast golden tapestry, ripe wheat rippling in the wind. On the eastern bank, lizard-farmer chants mingled with craftsmen’s hammer strikes, forming a disciplined symphony; on the western bank, pig-man villages rose with curling smoke, markets already bustling with rugged vitality. The slow-flowing Bohe River nourished this land of abundance and order.

Sakavi let out a satisfied growl, flapping his wings to stir the clouds as he flew upstream. The terrain rose gradually; the prosperous plain fell behind, replaced by rolling mining hills.

Here, another scene unfolded. Low hills had been carved into terraced mines, like scars upon the earth, yet radiating the scent of industry and steam. Countless goblin miners bustled like worker ants; rail carts rumbled along aerial cables, hauling vast quantities of coal downhill. This was a rough, powerful order.

Sakavi adjusted his wing angle in the clouds, lowering his flight altitude. As he passed over the confluence of the Blackwater River and the Bohe, the sight below would have stolen the breath of any first-time observer. Black Iron City, like a steel behemoth crouched upon the earth, breathed heavily and powerfully.

The Bohe River ran muddy and yellow; the Blackwater River, as its name suggested, flowed with dark waters drawn from deep within the mines. The city stood built upon the triangular land at their junction, encircled by sturdy basalt walls. These walls were no mere fortifications; their tops were lined with thick metal pipes that periodically spewed white steam.

From above, the transport network resembled the veins of a great beast. On the river, countless barges linked end to end like floating islands. Rail lines descending from the hills stretched like steel tentacles straight to the docks’ unloading zones. Salt ships from downstream, ocean-going grain vessels from overseas, and coal-and-ore-laden fleets intertwined, carving countless intersecting white wakes across the water.

The city’s core was its source of power. Massive coking plants stood like rows of black brick beehives, belching thick yellow smoke as they turned coal into coke for metallurgy. Beyond them stretched continuous smelting zones, blast furnaces towering like steel titans, glowing dark red, occasionally spewing brilliant golden flames and dense black smoke as iron ore melted into pig iron.

Copper and tin furnaces blazed with even whiter flames, rising with unique blue-green fumes. All these fumes converged overhead into a permanent, sulfurous-metallic haze, filtering sunlight into a hazy, industrial twilight.

The city’s functional zones were ruthlessly clear. At the docks, strong pig-man laborers chanted in unison, forming a moving river of flesh. In the smelting zones, minotaur craftsmen, clad in protective leather, stirred boiling metal pools with long poles. Amidst the intricate latticework of rails and pipes, countless goblins scurried like worker ants, performing maintenance and upkeep.

Each race worked tirelessly in its designated place, sustaining the entire system. Watching this city, with its touch of steampunk, Sakavi felt immense pride—it was his own bold decision, against all opposition, to adopt Su Lai De’s proposal that had given birth to this city.

At the city’s center, a fortress built entirely of obsidian and steel loomed—direct extension of Sakavi’s will: the Furnace Heart Mage Tower. It lacked the elegant spires of tradition; instead, it mimicked the form of blast furnaces—rough, cold, its peak perpetually burning an unextinguished magical flame. Like a black dragon’s eye, it reminded all living things who was the architect and master of order.

Yet atop the castle’s bell tower, an utterly discordant presence stood: a white clerical robe against the black, rugged architecture, out of place. His posture was not that of an intruder spying, but of a scholar studying an ancient fresco, attempting to decipher the wisdom and logic behind this extraordinary city.

“Bishop Ignatius, you are free—why are you still here?”

“Ah! You’re right—I am free. That means I may go anywhere I wish, and you can no longer restrict my freedom.”

“But this is my domain. Without my order, not even my own subordinates may enter freely. How did you get in?”

“I told your subordinates I was an invited guest. They let me in immediately and treated me warmly. To be honest, your people are not only polite—they live well too. Ten-hour workdays, one day off after every four days of labor. Such conditions are rare even in human nations.”

“Didn’t they take you to their leisure spots? I personally designed sports activities for them, even hired instructors to teach them music and literacy. In their dormitories, I built libraries filled with knightly adventure novels purchased from human lands—they love reading them.”

“I didn’t notice that. Perhaps they considered it too trivial to mention. I’m curious: according to intelligence, you’ve never lived among humans, yet your understanding of order resembles theirs— Shenzhi more deeply than theirs.”

“If a friend asked, I’d say the power of order far surpasses savagery. Though it may decay and lag behind, for one without deep roots like me, once my people grow accustomed to this life, returning them to a state of exhausting labor and hunger would be no different from asking them to kill themselves.”

The Duchy welcomes you at any time. But I think you should return to your diocese. Associating too closely with a black dragon of an enemy faction is unwise—you’re already ostracized by the Church.”

“Your Grace, have you forgotten? Your own hands burned down my cathedral. I have nowhere to go. Moreover, the Radiant Sect has lifted its warrant for your capture.”

“Are you asking me to rebuild your church? Don’t forget—the Duchy lies within the territory of the War God Church. I dare not offend them. Could you at least hint at what deal lies behind the Radiant Sect’s withdrawal of their warrant?”

“I’m sorry—due to my duties, I cannot disclose any details. But I believe you should fulfill your agreement with our Dawn Sect.”

“I have my own plans. How long do you intend to stay here? Are you truly interested in this place?”

“You’re right. I came to conduct an assessment—to gauge the strength here. The Radiant Sect isn’t known for reason. You’re not the first colorful dragon to establish order, nor are you the most skilled—but every multi-racial power fascinates me. And that’s precisely why I’m ostracized.”

“My friend, our conversation ends here. Take your due compensation and rebuild your church. If you fully resolve this matter, I will invite you to visit Agrik—but not now.”

“I believe you will. The wheels of fate do not halt for any single event—they turn in ways no mortal can foresee. Young Black Dragon Duke, good fortune to you.”

After parting with this peculiar bishop-friend, Sakavi returned to Agrik and began reviewing Grap’s testimony. After being manipulated multiple times, Sakavi was now hyper-cautious toward anything that might pose a threat.

According to Grap’s confession, upon entering the Aenotil Plane, he was discovered and hunted by the Radiant Sect. Unable to contact the Duchy, he hid for nearly a decade, forging alliances with numerous local factions. The neat, orderly script of his report pained Sakavi more with every line—such a talented, loyal subordinate, entangled in some conspiracy against him, had failed to break through to legendary status.