A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

Hormoz’s proposal was simple.

Maintain the status quo.

To acknowledge everything he enjoys in the North.

“I’m not sure if ‘acknowledge’ is the right term, Guild Master.”

“Tolerance or tacit approval might be more accurate.”

The Palm Tree Trade Guild owns a significant share of the Northern black market.

Distribution networks, supply chains, relationships with vendors, brokerage rights, commissions, and so on.

Dark Elves are a race born with gold and die in coffins woven from gold. Before minor crime organizations were swept away by the Military Government Headquarters, the only group capable of systematic smuggling in the North was Hormoz’s Palm Tree Trade Guild.

That is, until Francesca intervened.

Hormoz wanted to keep what he enjoyed.

“Therefore, I propose this.”

In the starlit desert.

Inside a tent steeped in the fragrance of fruits.

“Please allow the Palm Tree Trade Guild to continue overseeing the business I’m running in the North.”

Hormoz, the master of the Palm Tree Trade Guild, proposed.

“In return, I promise to provide you with continuous information while you remain in the North.”

Episode 12 – The Strongest Mage in History

After a moment of silence, I spoke.

“…Hmm. I’ve listened well.”

Breaking the silence, I reached out to briefly smooth my hair.

Perhaps it was due to the spatial transformation magic, or maybe because the weather in the North was so cold, but the night air was unexpectedly chilly. After the courtesy of snacks, meals, and shisha, the beads of sweat that had formed as I sat by the campfire were growing cold in the breeze.

Wiping away the dried sweat and fixing my hair, I summarized Hormoz’s words.

“You want to maintain the business conducted by the Palm Tree Trade Guild in the Northern black market, including its distribution and supply networks, relationships with vendors, brokerage rights, commissions… You wish for all of this to be preserved in exchange for providing us with ongoing information during our stay in the North. Is that correct? Did I understand that correctly?”

“That’s correct.”

Greedy, aren’t we?

Nodding quietly while pretending to ponder, Francesca sipped her coffee, and Hormoz tilted the teapot to refill his cup.

I found it amusing to watch Hormoz calmly sip his mint tea.

Francesca broke the silence.

“That’s quite a reciprocal proposal, Guild Master.”

Reciprocity refers to both parties providing special benefits or conveniences to one another. When both parties confer benefits upon each other, we call it a reciprocal relationship.

Economics and diplomacy are representative fields where this term is often used. Scholars state that reciprocity is inextricably linked to the principle of equality when explaining international trade, and diplomats count mutuality as a primary premise of diplomacy.

If I treat others well, they will treat me well in return.

That’s the essence of what diplomats call reciprocity, also known as mutualism.

In my eyes, as a diplomat and an information officer, mutualism is most effective not when the other party is kind to me, but when they act like absolute jerks.

“Everything you enjoy in the North, Guild Master, holds great value.”

Francesca set down her teacup and glanced around.

“The tent that can withstand the desert night was made from expensive silks imported from the East, the distribution network that allows for the transport of home-cooked meals from the continent across the sea, and the personnel supporting you, Guild Master.”

There were treasures scattered wherever my gaze fell.

Even the very place we were sitting was remarkable.

The spatial transformation magic, held only by the descendants of the long-established royal family and archmages. The war for independence left a significant scar on magic society.

The death of a beloved disciple, the death of a brilliant mentor, the burning of libraries and lost knowledge.

Mages lost much through war, and the lineage that had endured for thousands of years was severed in the flames of conflict. This is why magic cannot surpass science and why the Magic Tower is treated like an easy target in the international community.

No matter how much one acts like a jerk, the reality is that a single tank rolling through the Empire renders the Magic Tower silent.

Spatial transformation magic is a kind of magic that was lost in that process, a legacy forged by those who resisted oppression, centered around great mages.

It is priceless.

“Spatial transformation magic holds considerable value by itself. If the person who created this magic was one of the great mages, just the intention to sell it to someone among the descendants of great mages would lead them to sell their soul to acquire this spatial transformation magic you possess.”

“……”

“Even if the creator of this magic was not a great mage, if it were brought to the Magic Tower, the Oracle would personally intervene to facilitate the transaction. Such is the worth of spatial transformation magic. It is an invaluable legacy for mages. Surely, you know this, Guild Master?”

Hormoz nodded affirmatively.

“That’s right.”

“But you didn’t do that, did you?”

Francesca continued.

“You did not sell the spatial transformation magic. You turned down gold enough to last a lifetime, refusing riches that could be used to build a massive palace of gemstone and take it with you into the afterlife. Why was that?”

“Because it is magic bestowed upon me by a benefactor. It would be improper to sell something given as a gift, wouldn’t it?”

At those words, Hormoz smiled gently. If that statement hadn’t come from a Dark Elf, I might have clapped.

Hormoz was uttering something he didn’t genuinely feel, and the fact was known to everyone present, even to Hormoz himself.

Francesca sipped her coffee while gazing intently at Hormoz.

“Everything you currently enjoy, Guild Master, all that the Palm Tree Trade Guild owns in the North, has its price. It can be converted to money.”

“Not necessarily. How can merchant-merchant relations be traded for mere money?”

“What if someone were to pay a higher price than you, Guild Master? Would you switch contracts without blinking an eye?”

Francesca chuckled softly. Her lips smiled, but her gaze remained cold.

Even under her frigid stare, Hormoz continued to smile amicably.

“Even if you feel that way, I care little, but information is a different story.”

Clank. The porcelain made a sharp sound as it was set down.

“Information is an abstract and intangible asset. I deem it an inappropriate price to pay.”

“The very fact that information cannot be quantified means it could be more valuable than gold, depending on its application.”

“That may be true. However, it can’t be converted to cash immediately, nor can it even be used as toilet paper.”

At Francesca’s remark, I found myself momentarily angered.

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think…?”

Even if it wasn’t directed at me, as someone who lives on information, it was hard to let that comment slide.

But Francesca seemed indifferent and continued to speak her mind.

“Guild Master. Transactions and negotiations are about exchanging equal values. Therefore, your demands seem difficult for us to accept.”

“……”

Hormoz still looked at Francesca with a smiling face while his golden eyes were completely still and cold.

Even sitting around the campfire, the cold atmosphere of the conversation was palpable. Now was the time. This was the moment.

“Alright.”

I sat up from my half-reclined position and cleared my throat.

“I think we’ve roughly exchanged our positions, so I’ll take charge of the traffic here.”

*

I slowly revisited both sides’ positions from the middle.

First, Hormoz.

“Hormoz wishes to maintain the position he enjoys and the business of the Palm Tree Trade Guild in the North. He expressed cautious concern about the disruptions to business due to the Military Government Headquarters’ recent crackdown on crime organizations.”

What Hormoz wanted was to ‘maintain the status quo’. Dark Elves hope that what they enjoyed yesterday will continue into today and tomorrow.

Next, Francesca.

“What you desire, Administrative Officer, is information, correct?”

“Yes.”

Francesca wanted ‘information’. Specifically, information about the merchant presumed to have sold black magic to terrorists and fled North.

At this point, I recalled the fundamental reasons why Hormoz and Francesca were here.

First, Francesca needed to find the guy who sold black magic. She was a direct victim of the terrorism herself, and with Lucia involved, the cult was on high alert.

The problem was that the Inquisition had caught wind of it. It was far too clear that black magic was involved in the terrorism, and the primary suspects were naturally the mages. This posed a problem.

The fact that ‘mages’ were the suspects in a terror incident involving ‘black magic’? The Inquisition would not let this slide. Right now, with Peter as the Inquisition Director, issues aren’t a concern, but once a new Inquisition Director is appointed, they will certainly start digging into the terror case.

Even more so since the new Pope, Raphael, is a former Inquisition Director. Once this guy is appointed Pope and the Inquisition Director changes, it would truly be disastrous for the Magic Tower. The entire organization would fall into the hands of radicals.

For reference, the time when Raphael becomes Pope is right before Lucia’s canonization ceremony, as mentioned by Peter last time. In other words, this will coincide with when we are finishing all the business we have in the North.

If no suspects are revealed by then, Raphael will immediately start hunting the Magic Tower. He will probably announce to the world that Lucia was attacked at the scene of the terror.

What transpires after that is anyone’s guess. They may resume public inquisitions on the streets, or people may stone mages on sight, or a holy war may be declared.

Regardless of what happens, it would be catastrophic for the Magic Tower. Therefore, Francesca must find out who was spreading black magic before Raphael becomes Pope. No matter how much she hates the Tower and has issues with Patalia, she is still a mage herself.

In short, Francesca witnessed smoke rising from a mountain. She is in a position where she must find the source of the spark before the mountain—that is, the Magic Tower—burns to the ground.

On the other hand, Hormoz’s stance was somewhat different.

“……”

Hormoz had literally been struck by lightning while napping.

He had been raking in money by collaborating with minor criminals in the North when suddenly, soldiers barged in, trampling his stalls and setting the neighboring shop ablaze.

In a normal situation, the media would be frothing at the mouth, but unfortunately, it’s martial law now.

Furthermore, Hormoz was not a legitimate trader paying taxes; he was a smuggler of foreign nationality.

Would the men shooting at their own citizens show any mercy to a foreigner? Who knows? I haven’t asked the Empire soldiers, but I’ve never seen a bullet discriminate by age, race, or gender. Even elves wouldn’t escape a bullet.

Thus, Hormoz couldn’t help but feel fear. He has no idea when the Imperial Army might crash in on him. For a single penny, he’d risk his life, but he might end up losing both money and his life.

However, pulling out and shutting down business is impossible. Nomads are sensitive to honor, and Dark Elves are sensitive to profit and loss, so the stigma of retreating in loss would follow Hormoz and the Palm Tree Trade Guild for life.

In that case, death would be the better option. Hormoz himself probably thinks the same.

In short, Hormoz is currently in a lit situation. If he doesn’t put out the fire before it could burn him to the ground, his only option left is to plummet.

“…Hmm.”

Of course, this all omitted Hormoz’s backers, the Military Government Headquarters, which has no plans for an ongoing crackdown, and many stakeholders, including the Abas Information Agency supporting me.

But that’s not something I’m concerned about.

What’s important right now is one thing.

Having pondered for about four seconds, I pointed at Francesca and Hormoz and asked:

“Let me ask you two one thing. Hormoz, do you have anything else to offer besides information?”

“If the Guild has the capacity, and if I can obtain it, I can offer anything.”

The Dark Elf spoke about business.

“Dark Elves do not engage in unprofitable deals. We are a tribe that honors contracts as much as dragons or dwarves when it comes to monetary matters.”

“Do you have anything to say to the Administrative Officer?”

“I do.”

Hormoz nodded and raised his teacup.

“I heard reports from my guild employees that new mages who they had never seen before appeared in the black market. Although they were uniformly unidentifiable, they all claimed to have come to sell goods. I firmly believe these mages were from the Magic Tower.”

“……”

“Am I right?”

Francesca neither confirmed nor denied it. Whether that was an answer or not, Hormoz finally sighed and put down his teacup.

In a serious tone, he spoke.

“The black market is one of the businesses I focus on. If you don’t retreat, negotiations will be impossible.”

Hormoz had realized that the mages from the Magic Tower had been visiting the black market. He also knew that Francesca had been moving them around. It was originally meant to be a point of acknowledgment, so it was not something that needed to be concealed. This much had been expected.

However, there was one thing about Hormoz’s firm attitude that bothered me.

“You mentioned that you are paying attention to this black market? You, Hormoz?”

Hormoz referred to paying attention to the black market. And he specifically said he was ‘looking’ at the black market, not the ‘Palm Tree Trade Guild.’

A subtle difference, but I sensed something amiss. Something hard to explain in words. Yes, it could be termed as intuition.

The benefactor who saved my life, the deal swapped with spatial transformation magic that cannot be saved with gold, the Guild Master lingering in the dangerous North, the black market in the North, Hormoz’s backers…

Just then, Hormoz spoke.

“It’s a contract. I made an agreement with someone a few years ago. Thanks to that, I was able to conduct business in the Northern black market for a while.”

“……”

Hormoz entered into a contract with someone. That someone must be his backer.

The person who has tacitly permitted or actively assisted him in being able to operate in the Northern black market. Hormoz would be paying some kind of price in return for this favor, as a deal requires that something must be exchanged for whatever benefit is received.

I felt I had grasped something vaguely, yet not clearly. The information was lacking.

Instead of probing further into Hormoz’s past, I decided to store this information in my mind and move on. Delving deeper would likely arouse his suspicion and lead to him withholding vital information.

The core of fluent discourse is that it is vital to prevent the counterpart from knowing what you’ve taken from them.

“I see. I’ve understood Hormoz’s stance well. What about you, Administrative Officer?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know anything regarding the mages from the Magic Tower operating in the Northern black market?”

“I’m not sure?”

I lightly shook my head.

“Is there a way to reel in those mages?”

“We can prohibit access to the black market, but we lack the capacity to regulate individual deviations. We can’t control everything.”

Francesca stepped forward, her tone indicating certainty.

She dismissed the mages’ smuggling as individual acts. Simultaneously, she claimed that it was impossible to regulate them.

Though her words sounded that way, in truth, it was crystal clear she had no intention of pulling out of the black market. From the beginning, Hormoz was suspecting that Francesca stood behind the mages from the Magic Tower, and Francesca hadn’t even issued a feigned denial.

At this point, I had discerned the core of all issues surrounding this situation.

“So it all comes down to the black market.”

The black market.

Hormoz’s core interest and my weapon of attack.

Hormoz evaded providing information due to self-preservation regarding his business, while I intended to involve the Military Government Headquarters and Victor to create chaos in the black market. With Francesca out front.

And today, meeting Hormoz, there was no consideration of abandoning the black market.

I turned my head and gazed at Francesca.

“Administrative Officer, are you not considering retreating?”

She replied.

“Absolutely not.”

That was it.

A short but clear answer.