A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The woman in the photograph was wearing her hat pulled down low.

With black hair and crimson eyes.

Indeed, she was the assailant. I could only catch a glimpse of her face, but I remembered it clearly. As I was staring at the small photo, Pippin began her report.

“These are the photos secured by our undercover agent.”

She held up another photo. It captured the figure holding a phone, scanning the surroundings.

“Have you identified her?”

“Ekaterina. 29 years old. An agent from the Imperial Guard HQ, formerly from the military intelligence unit.”

“What’s the source of the information?”

“It’s personnel documents acquired by our operative from the Imperial Army.”

“Have you confirmed the possibility of misinformation?”

“It’s a document seized from their unit. The document itself is undoubtedly authentic.”

She passed me the papers marked with the Imperial Army’s security seal. It contained a youthful photograph and basic personal details.

Poor work ethic. Disobedience. Abandonment of post, and so on.

It seemed she had caused various troubles before leaving in disgrace.

“Which department of the Imperial Guard HQ is she affiliated with?”

“She’s with the Counterintelligence Department of the First Bureau.”

The First Bureau of the Imperial Guard HQ.

A name that moistens the trousers of countless citizens across the Empire. It manages educated intellectuals who have succumbed to power struggles and those labeled as political prisoners, while also tasked with identifying spies.

The agents I often encountered during my time with the Kien Empire’s intelligence were typically from the First Bureau of the Imperial Guard HQ.

But why were they operating within a cult?

“The First Bureau usually operates within the Empire. I assumed foreign operations and information collection were handled by the Second Bureau. Isn’t there something wrong with the information?”

“No, I was suspicious as well, but I double-checked, and she is indeed with the First Bureau.”

I pressed Pippin, but judging by her expression, she didn’t seem to be lying. If the information came from the intelligence agency, it was likely vetted and reliable.

Having spent some time in the intelligence community, I’m fairly familiar with how things operate there.

Even if an intelligence agency specializes in one role, numerous departments exist within, each handling different matters.

A prime example being Colonel Clevenz, who dealt with counterintelligence, and myself, who collected foreign information.

Honestly, I had no clear idea what exactly Colonel Clevenz handled. I just heard he dealt with spies. Given the secretive nature of such institutions, it’s normal not to know what others are doing.

Thus, many departments exist within an intelligence agency, and unless one is a high-ranking official, they tend to overlook what one another does.

This means there’s not much encroachment into each other’s territories. If it were to happen intentionally, the heads of the agencies would strip off their ranks and duke it out in a conference room. It sounds absurd, but it’s true. In this realm, it’s not unusual for a member of parliament to pull a knife to interrupt a speech.

In that sense,

The embassy’s counterintelligence agent who passed on information about the terror.

The agent from the intelligence department who ambushed me at the site of the attack.

The agents from the Imperial Guard HQ certainly crossed the line.

Why would they do that?

“Should we tail her?”

“…Yeah.”

I sense something suspicious.

Episode 2 – Heroes of the Continent

“Colonel Frederick?”

“Oh, my apologies, Your Eminence.”

My thoughts broke as Cardinal Raul spoke.

Due to the information Pippin brought recently, my head was tangled, causing me to lose track of the conversation.

I speared a piece of meat with my fork and placed it in my mouth.

Nom.

“You’re quite busy with events lately.”

“Not at all. I’m fine.”

Across the table, Cardinal Raphael smiled gently and struck up a conversation.

Cardinal Raul, Raphael, and other cardinals were seated around the round table, slicing beef. It was an extravagant feast that’s hard to come by these days.

“You must be tired looking after the hero. I hope we’re not burdening you, ha ha!”

One unnamed cardinal chuckled heartily, groveling.

Perhaps because it was a gathering of high-ranking officials maneuvering the cult, it was uncomfortable enough that I could hardly tell if the food was entering through my mouth or nose.

“It seems like the event venue has become much safer thanks to you, Colonel…”

“Truly wise words. Being a soldier, your mastery stands out.”

“Indeed… we can trust you.”

Old men with crinkled faces smiled benevolently, coating their faces in a veneer of kindness. While it might be a glorious sight for fervent believers of the cult, knowing these gents are like raccoons stuffed with snakes makes such praise feel hollow.

“By the way, I’m really enjoying the fountain pen you gifted me.”

One cardinal beamed as he showcased the fountain pen to me.

It was a recent gift distributed to high-ranking officials of the cult. So yes, it was indeed a bribe.

“Isn’t it a fountain pen that only courtiers of the Kingdom of Abas use? The writing experience is superb!”

“It’s an honor that you like it.”

I popped another piece of meat in my mouth and chewed.

It’s delicious.

However, as I contemplated slowly, considering the relationships among the attendees, the situation felt exceedingly delicate.

Cardinals Raul and Raphael were clashing over the next papal seat.

Raul was cementing his position by supporting Priest Lucia within the cult. On the other hand, Raphael was catching flak because of a recent terrorism incident while managing the hero’s protocol.

To praise expertise in safety right in front of Raphael—it was simply baffling.

“….”

Glancing at Raphael’s face, I noticed the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

It seemed his pride as a former Inquisition Director took a bit of a hit.

Seriously, how was one supposed to eat at a gathering like this?

Perhaps Raphael was having a similar thought, as he set down his utensils, interrupting the flow of conversation.

“Well then, it seems we’ve mostly finished the meal. Let’s talk about the itinerary moving forward.”

*

The core agenda of the schedule was to officially recognize Camila Lowell as the hero.

The process was simpler than one might think. All it took was to listen to a suitably public-oriented speech in front of people, followed by receiving baptism and blessings from the pope to be recognized as a hero.

However, a brief discussion arose regarding the safety at the event venue. Ultimately, the matter was decided to limit the attendees to the officially recognized individuals and massively increase security personnel.

Up until this point, everything had gone smoothly.

But the issue lay in when to hold this event.

The first to express an opinion was Cardinal Raphael.

“As you all know, security is an important matter. I believe detailed scheduling should be kept confidential and that we should proceed swiftly.”

Raphael advocated for executing the plan as quickly as possible to prevent further terror attacks.

As the former director of the Inquisition and the individual responsible for the hero’s protocol, he requested a prompt resolution to avoid larger misfortunes.

His remarks were reasonable.

If a bomb went off in the presence of the Pope, cardinals, and other renowned figures, there would be no way to contain it. Given that, his plea to move safely, albeit unceremoniously, carried significant weight.

That was until Cardinal Raul intervened.

“The hero’s inauguration ceremony is a historic event. Given its significance, I believe it should be carried out openly, with as much time and effort as necessary to make it accessible to all.”

Raul put forward a principled stance.

The cult had rapidly expanded its influence by exploiting the continent’s crises. However, due to the recent terror attack, the cult’s standing was in jeopardy.

Apart from me, everyone else was a high-ranking official within the cult, akin to parasites latching on to and draining the lifeblood of the organization’s power.

What would happen if a cornered cult conducted the hero’s inauguration ceremony behind closed doors?

Inevitably, they’d be criticized for tucking their tail and hiding from terror threats.

Let me reiterate, this world is not a beautiful place.

It’s a mad realm where people can’t stand seeing others succeed and would stab you in the back at the slightest opportunity.

If the cult’s influence shrinks, those cardinals currently holding positions will inevitably incur tremendous losses.

These individuals were not purely devoted religious figures but hybrids entangled in politics and business. Thus, they stood to suffer significant financial and political damage.

Of course, whether the cult’s actual influence would diminish and whether cardinals would suffer damages remained unknown.

However, humans tend to believe only what they wish to believe, and conspiracy theories require no evidence.

It was already clear to see that several cardinals were wavering in their support of Raul’s statement.

“Cardinal Raul, are you suggesting that inscribing a few lines into history is more important than people’s safety?”

“Safety is vital, but considering the current circumstances of the cult and the hero’s standing, I’m proposing that a public ceremony would be better.”

Typically, when opinions clash, people engage in discussions.

However, humans prioritize emotions over reason, especially in crucial matters like this.

What happens then?

“As I just mentioned, safety is the top priority….”

“Then you should have ensured that safety. What was the Inquisition doing while the bomb was detonating?”

“Cardinal Raul!”

The chaos erupted.

A bunch of old men turned beet-red in the face, veins bulging in their necks.

“Isn’t the safety of His Holiness and the hero important? Are you saying the cult’s standing is paramount?”

“Isn’t overcoming trials and tribulations bestowed by the divine?”

“Are you insane?! Right now, people are dying!”

“What? Blasphemy…!”

The old man from public security and the one from the election arena began hurling insults at each other.

Before I knew it, the cardinals had split into factions, squabbling.

It was a ludicrous scene. In the 21st century, it’d be breaking news at 9 PM, but here, it was nearly cute behavior.

In a place where parliament members brandish sashimi knives to silence speeches and participants throw punches during debates, such behavior was rather normal.

In an area where lives are worth less than flies, merely trading insults could be considered endearing.

Of course, chastising a young lad in my presence was undoubtedly disgraceful; it only emphasized how enraged they were to the point of degrading me.

One should always tread carefully, yet the conversation’s tone was gravely unsettling.

“Blasphemy? You fool! I told you not to speak so carelessly with your gaping mouth!”

“Hey, you! Who’s grabbing my collar…!”

“Shall I remind you of what you did six years ago at the convent? Huh? Did you think the Inquisition wouldn’t find out?”

“What! What is this person saying right now!”

Clearly, the ex-public security fellow had an imposing presence, both in stature and voice.

As Raul was being dragged along by his collar, the severity of the situation slowly dawned on the cardinals, who struggled to separate the two.

“Y-Your Eminence! Please calm down!”

“Raphael! For now, let go!”

This is a comedy in itself.

Since I didn’t particularly want to get embroiled in this mess, I took out the fountain pen from my pocket and spun it while clearing my throat.

“…Ahem.”

“….”

“….”

“Have you all calmed down?”

The two old fellows regained enough composure to straighten out their clothes. The table was smeared with spilled wine from the chaotic scuffle, and broken dishes were scattered across the floor.

What a disaster.

“…We acted disgracefully. I apologize.”

“Well, in the heat of discussion, it’s not uncommon for opinions to clash and tempers to rise. There are countless issues in this world that lack clear solutions.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

I smiled gently, pocketed my pen, and rose from my seat.

“Shall we take a moment to cool our heads?”

“…I suppose so.”

“….”

Cardinal Raul hastily left the table, and Cardinal Raphael cast a resentful glance at him before murmuring his apologies and taking his leave as well.

The cardinals split precisely in half, dashing after Raul and Raphael. It seemed they had their factions.

Having noted their appearances, I figured I’d conduct some background checks once we returned to the embassy.

“….”

Sitting alone in the now-empty dining hall, I propped my chin on my hand and brought the fountain pen close to my ear.

-Crack.

-‘…Cardinal Raul, are you stating that inscribing a few lines into history is more important than people’s safety?’

-‘Blasphemy? You fool! I told you not to speak so carelessly with your gaping mouth!’

-‘Hey, you! Who’s grabbing my collar…!’

-‘Shall I remind you of what you did six years ago at the convent? Huh? Did you think the Inquisition wouldn’t find out?’

-‘What! What is this person saying right now!’

“…. Six years ago at the convent, huh?”

It seemed Raphael had some entertaining stories up his sleeve. After spinning the fountain pen a few times, his voice, filled with rage, flowed out.

-Crack.

-‘…That Raul fellow is just trouble. Trouble!’

-‘Hold on, Raphael. Regardless, how could we bring that up?’

-‘If you think about it, it was Raul’s blasphemy, not mine! How could a bishop act like that…!’

“…Oh.”

Although the meeting had spiraled out of control, I had managed to gather some useful information.

People really ought to watch their mouths.

Listening devices are everywhere.