The Priest Who Summoned the Black Dragon
The reason Koban City had gained an enormous capacity to house two million people lay partly in its peculiar building regulations. Aside from manors, mansions, and cultural structures, only buildings of at least four stories or higher were permitted. In short, it was a strange place where construction permits were denied unless the applicant was a real-estate developer or large-scale merchant capable of handling substantial projects. In any other city or territory, such rules would have provoked outrage, yet Koban City enjoyed crop growth rates sixty times faster than elsewhere. Moreover, the value of its surplus produce reached a staggering six hundred times that of farmers in other cities!
In this era, agriculture accounted for sixty to seventy percent of all industry. High-value crops were the equivalent of modern semiconductors—an advanced, cutting-edge sector. Beyond cumin, anise, pepper, black pepper, cinnamon, and other premium herbs and spices, the land also yielded ginseng, thousand-year ginseng, saffron, mandragora, cherry blossom roses, and fairy roses. These high-value plants flourished without depleting the soil, a phenomenon that had fascinated continental agronomists for centuries.
Initially, scholars attributed the fertility to Koban’s unique soil and attempted to transplant it elsewhere, but the experiments failed. The soil alone produced no difference. The ones most delighted by this mystery were none other than the priests of the Tricia Church. According to ancient myth, Navisis and Tricia had once paused their creation of Planet Nirvana to nap upon a verdant plain. The priests claimed that very plain was Koban City. Consequently, the Tricia Church relocated its entire headquarters here.
The move brought unexpected blessings. Not only did crops thrive, but livestock grew twice as large, and the people of Koban were born exceptionally beautiful. Believers flocked to the faith, crediting the goddess Tricia’s grace. In time, the Tricia Church became the dominant religion throughout the Korazm region.
*
Yet lately the Church’s finances had soured. The chief culprit was the tyrannical lord. Koban’s tax rate had once been moderate—around fifty percent. Under Duke Kalkia, Niberia’s father, it climbed to seventy percent. Now it stood at a crushing ninety percent. Though the farmers remained wealthier than those in other territories, the sudden squeeze left worshippers with far less coin, and the Church’s coffers suffered accordingly.
“Damn it, I knew it! Those bastards from the Raikert family!”
“Good heavens, what if someone from the Raikert household overhears you?”
“Our order will only recover once Niberia is dead!”
“Please, Your Eminence, don’t say such things. The Grand Duke has eyes everywhere…”
“Even if Niberia dies, will Koban’s economy truly revive? And if his dozens of sons wage war over succession and impose even heavier war taxes, what will become of the realm?”
At that moment, a handsome young priest with orange hair and spectacles spoke sharply.
“Well, it would certainly become… lively.”
“Then what would happen to our order?”
“We might have to close our doors…”
The chief priest, Kermir, possessed a delicate, almost girlish beauty. His refined features and short-sleeved clerical robes made him the very image of the handsome young men the Grand Duke most despised. Had he not been a priest, he might well have been dragged away for unspeakable purposes. The female clergy adored him, yet Kermir remained a strict ascetic—until today.
Smiling in a manner most unlike his usual self, he said, “Then my own livelihood would be cut off as well.”
“Haah… We may not even have food to eat soon.”
“How dire is our situation?”
“At this rate, we might last ten or twenty days at most.”
“Hmm. Then why not simply sweep the Raikert family away?”
“You? How could you possibly possess such power?”
“I do.”
“What?!”
“Not I—the Black Dragon.”
Kermir had already foreseen this moment. The previous night he had dispatched a candid letter to the Black Dragon.
Dear Black Dragon,
Greetings! I am Kermir, chief priest of the Tricia Church—an insignificant human compared to Your Greatness. I have heard that the mighty Black Dragons feed upon the wicked thoughts of mankind. Our goddess Tricia, in turn, heals those very thoughts. Ah, the chemistry between us already feels explosive, does it not?
Do you know how magnificent Koban City is? Its fields produce the finest crops on the continent. Moreover, beautiful maidens who yearn for the Black Dragons’ favor outnumber those of any other city tenfold. All of this is thanks to the blessing of the great goddess of darkness, Tricia.
Then why do the Black Dragons leave this delicious source of tribute untouched? Please come to Koban and purge the vile Grand Duke’s retainers who extort ninety percent of our harvest. The people will welcome you with open arms.
— Kermir, Chief Priest
The other priests paled.
“What nonsense is this?!”
“Do you have any idea how terrifying a dragon’s rule can be?”
Kermir merely smiled.
“Oh? I wonder.”
After all, the Red Dragon of Yugna Mountain had once aided King Luketerius in founding the Lusa Empire. If the Black Dragon were to value Kermir’s loyalty and elevate him to the papacy…
“Uhehehe… The Saintess and I—no, what am I thinking? A forbidden romance…?”
Already, Kermir’s mind wandered into dreams of a clandestine affair with the Saintess. He had always been drawn to the most peculiar women.
* * *
Having read the letter, a Black Dragon was already winging its way toward Koban.
“Kuhuhu… khkhkhk. I knew it all along. Why do you think we’ve been holding back? Because of that damned oath with the Lord, that’s why. What? Stay away from this delicious Niberia for five hundred years?!”
Since the founding of the Lusa Empire, no dragon had violated the unspoken pact with the Lord. For five hundred years the empire had prospered under draconic protection and seal. The region was coveted by every dragon, Black included.
“But that promise expired centuries ago! Khkhkhk. Without your letter I might have forgotten entirely. Five hundred years is such a long time—I should have plundered it long ago. Your name was Kermir, wasn’t it? Khahaha! When I arrive, I’ll grant you a magnificent reward.”
Delivering such a letter to a Black Dragon was normally unthinkable for an ordinary human. Yet Kermir was no ordinary priest—he was the chief priest of the Tricia Church, whose branches spanned the entire continent. With the Pope’s full approval, he had ordered the archbishop of the Sky Mountain branch in the dwarven kingdom to ensure the letter reached the Black Dragon’s eyes.
The archbishop’s method had been ingenious.
“Lord Tamorpati, this… it’s a letter from the chief priest of the Lusa Empire—the one with the Myth-Slaying Beauty. Ah, yes—the chief priest of Koban City, where the Myth-Slaying Beauty is scheduled to enter the palace!”
Upon hearing the news, Tamorpati roared.
“Bring it here at once!!!! Khahahahahaha!!!!”