A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The lights were out in the embassy. At such a late hour when everyone was sound asleep, spies gathered in a dimly lit conference room.

An agent laid several photos on the table and began explaining.

“About two hours ago. Our agents out on patrol secured this spy. They are currently being held at a safe house located on the outskirts of the cult. The spy has been unconscious since they were found.”

I took a look at the photos and showed them to Pippin.

She examined the pictures closely and nodded silently.

“This is an agent from the Imperial Guard HQ Counterintelligence Department. Was her name Ekaterina? How did you find her?”

“We approached someone who had lost consciousness in an alley. The agents verified her identity and immediately transferred her to the safe house.”

Ekaterina.

An agent with black hair and red eyes.

A Counterintelligence officer from the Imperial Guard HQ who should not be here, and the thug who ambushed me right before a bombing.

“Unconscious, huh? Is there any issue with her health?”

“I called in a tight-lipped doctor for an examination, and it turns out she fainted due to nutritional imbalance and overwork.”

Nutritional imbalance and overwork.

Looks like she was up to something interesting.

I propped my chin on my hand and rummaged through the pile of photos, finally finding one that caught my attention.

“A pistol, a pen, a pocket knife. What’s all this?”

“These are items the spy was carrying. The pistol is a common weapon used by the Imperial Army, and the pen contained neurotoxin. It’s presumed to be for suicide.”

“Whoa.”

The pistol is one thing, but there’s no reason for a counterintelligence agent to carry around a pen with poison. Something seems really off.

It seems this isn’t just about a purge, but there’s a whole backstory we aren’t aware of.

I continued to examine a few more photos.

Cuts and bruises. Bandages soaked in blood. Makeshift stitches that looked rather subpar.

“I wonder what she got herself into.”

How should I grill her to extract information?

I tapped my fingers on the table, deep in thought. This seems like a matter that requires a discussion with the Colonel.

“Let me know when she wakes up. We can either get her looking somewhat more presentable before interrogating her.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no one among our agents in the cult who can conduct the interrogation.”

“Really? Not even someone to handle a simple questioning?”

“There is one psychological warfare agent available.”

That’s interesting.

“Focus on getting her conscious and back to looking human first.”

“Understood.”

—

Episode 2 – Heroes of the Continent

The thug who attacked me, the Counterintelligence agent from the Imperial Guard HQ, had yet to regain consciousness even after three days.

According to the doctor, she’s on her way to recovery and will regain consciousness soon. I generously slipped him enough money to keep him quiet. But if she ends up not waking up and dies, that would be quite bothersome. Something akin to putting a pellet in her head.

Of course, I wasn’t cruel enough to send the doctor to America to ensure silence.

I would just get a little annoyed if I couldn’t extract the information stuck in Ekaterina’s head.

“Is there anything special going on today?”

“No, nothing unusual. Oh, but reports have come in that several agents tailing our targets have disappeared.”

“Guess they’re all hiding like rats. What’s the result of the wiretapping?”

“Currently, there’s almost no communication activity at all.”

Sounds like the wiretapping team is just sitting around with nothing to do.

A model civil servant wouldn’t let themselves be seen slacking off.

“Stop monitoring the Empire’s comms and shift the focus back to the cult. Let’s tap into Raul, Raphael, and the Inquisition.”

“I’ll distribute personnel to broaden the monitoring to include bishops as well.”

Truly, a top-tier subordinate.

As the report was nearing its end, Jake quietly entered the room, opening the door.

“Colonel, did you see the news today?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Take a look at this.”

Jake handed me a newspaper.

Receiving it, I scanned the content and frowned.

“Why is this Raphael guy getting criticized?”

“It seems that being a former Inquisition Director, he spent his time blabbering about making the cult safer. So now that a bombing occurred and a shootout happened, he’s getting backlash.”

“Great.”

Raphael is getting criticized.

Attacks have begun blaming Raphael for the terrorist incident due to his negligent attitude towards overseeing the event. His former role as the head of the agency charged with preventing and investigating terror during a significant diplomatic visit has strengthened those claims.

Thanks to that, Raphael is currently suffering from internal negativity within the cult.

Of course, Raul hasn’t personally cast any blame, but it seems he’s using others to bash Raphael.

“And what’s this? Why is Lucia getting hit?”

“A conspiracy theory has emerged.”

Lucia the priestess is under fire due to conspiracy theories.

Veronica is apparently scheming against Lucia because she is concerned about her injuries.

Veronica had previously downplayed Lucia’s actions of staying in seclusion for safety right after the terror attack. Recently, however, she has escalated her criticism to outrageous slander against Lucia.

This is possible because, while Lucia has been severely scrutinized by various conspiracy theories and black propaganda, a relatively free Veronica can participate in various events.

Of course, Veronica isn’t outright attacking Lucia, but everyone in the know is aware.

I scanned through the paper, but aside from these two items, there was nothing special.

“This is so maddening.”

“As long as it doesn’t harm the hero, they seem to be operating quite splendidly, so we have no justification or means to restrain them.”

“Crafty. A real serpent, that one. A serpent.”

I leaned back in my chair, feeling a bit too fatigued. Maybe it’s due to a lack of sleep, but every time I sit down, I want to lie down, and every time I lie down, I want to sleep.

“Colonel, a message has arrived from the homeland.”

“Read it out.”

“It seems Cardinal Raul has been meeting with businessmen during his stay in the kingdom.”

Huh.

Wasn’t expecting that from him; pretty disappointing.

“So while the hero is spinning his wheels, he’s playing around with money?”

“That’s one way to see it, but they say there’s no trace of any contracts exchanged. Some of them have mysteriously vanished and are now reported missing.”

“That’s something the Colonel can handle himself. Let’s just focus on managing the ones close to Raul.”

“I anticipated you’d say that, so I brought the profiles of his closest aides and associated personnel.”

Pippin dropped a hefty stack of documents onto the table.

“Wow, they really are quite stunning.”

I gestured for the kids to gather around as I started reviewing the documents.

From the true heavies who could have a private audience with Raul to lower-ranking individuals, and the closest personnel, everything was meticulously organized.

I set aside a few profiles that seemed particularly promising along with their associates.

As I was doing that, one name caught my eye.

“Hey, check this person out.”

“This one? He’s an old associate among the closest aides, but he doesn’t seem to hold any influential positions.”

“I know something about him, so let’s examine his associates first.”

“Understood. I’ll draft a plan and submit to the higher-ups.”

The traffic management was almost complete.

However, a significant obstacle still lay ahead.

“…Aren’t we going to get caught by the Inquisition while we’re at it?”

Indeed, that was the Inquisition.

They’ve had surveillance on us from the moment we stepped into the cult, so they likely know what we’re up to.

So far, there haven’t been any problems, and they haven’t intervened, but if we work on cult personnel, who knows how they might react?

“Why not negotiate?”

“…Negotiate?”

“Based on what you said, it seems they’re quite anxious to find the terrorists too. With a shootout occurring, their internal situation must be chaotic. Wouldn’t it be beneficial to bring some information to the table for a trade?”

Upon hearing that, it did sound like a plausible idea.

What could we offer for a trade? A few good thoughts sprang to mind.

“Alright. Just as you said, I’ll need to meet with Petrus later to discuss a potential deal.”

Jake made a grimace.

It seems he’s harboring some bad memories regarding the Inquisition.

“Do you not trust me?”

“I do trust you. But the Inquisition is just…”

Jake trailed off. As an operative, he couldn’t oppose what the operative was doing, but it seems concern was unavoidable.

“Stop worrying, will ya? I’m thinking things through too.”

To lighten the mood, I decided to engage in some light chatter.

“Jake, you said you were from the Special Forces, right?”

“Yes. I was in the army’s Special Forces.”

“I heard you guys receive training on resisting torture and all that. If it ever comes to an interrogation, how about you take charge?”

“I understand.”

Jake nodded and resumed reviewing the documents.

I engaged him further in a conversation about work.

However, as is often the case with conversations, we soon veered off into a different direction.

Before long, the topic shifted to sharing tales of military service.

“After our graduation ceremony, my classmates had the instructors pour alcohol over their boots and then had us lick it all off the floor!”

“Were you one of those too? When we went through agent training, we also had to drink from boots. When I think back, I still don’t know how I managed to do that.”

“Well, back then, we were just so out of our minds and thirsty, we gladly drank it.”

Various stories came pouring out.

Terrible training. The struggles of being a junior. Tales of unenjoyable people common to any unit continued on.

“We would charge at the sound of a superior calling us, thinking we’d just about escaped our junior days, only to find ourselves selected for the Information Agency instead.”

“Why’d you join the Information Agency? Didn’t like the Special Forces life?”

“No, that’s not it, but they offered more money, and I jumped in without a second thought. What about you, Colonel? How did you get in?”

“Me? Well, I just wanted to rise up in ranks.”

“Wow—so incredibly superficial!”

“Hey, it’s because I knew a thing or two about intelligence agencies.”

“Did you have acquaintances from the Information Agency?”

“…Well, something like that.”

I evaded the question, stringing together vague answers.

Fortunately, Jake didn’t press any further.

As our fuzzy conversation drew to a close, I remembered something and paused, then asked.

“Oh right, did you learn about hiding greatswords while you were in the Special Forces?”

“Eh? Greatswords?”

“Yeah. You know, hiding them in your left sleeve and stuff.”

“How would you know about that, Colonel? We learned that directly from our instructors.”

“I learned it too during my training in the Information Agency. It’s not documented, but we learned it the hard way through beatings.”

“That’s just like us. We had no manual on it, so we watched the instructor demonstrate and learned by sight.”

“Really?”

So that’s how it is.

Truth be told, I didn’t know until recently that such techniques were also taught in the Special Forces. From Jake’s reaction, it seems the Special Forces and Information Agency operatives both undergo the same training without knowledge of it. Once we shared our experiences, we realized both sides learned purely through the instructors’ teachings.

Interesting.

Knock! Knock!

There was a knock at the conference room door.

“Yes. Come in.”

“Excuse me.”

Fiery red hair peeked through the opening of the conference room door. Anyone could tell it was Camila Lowell.

“Camila Lowell? What brings you here?”

“The ambassador is looking for you, Colonel.”

“For me?”

What could the ambassador want with me?

Aside from a few work-related discussions, I hardly have any rapport with him. It seems something must have come up.

As I stood up to gather my belongings, Camila Lowell answered my curiosity.

“Yes, I heard that an invitation has arrived.”

“An invitation?”

“A gentleman named Petrus sent it….”

The Inquisition Director Petrus.

He was calling for me.