A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“Gabi Schneider was a former diplomat affiliated with the Magic Tower Secretariat, and she was directly or indirectly involved in a terrorist incident targeting foreign information agents during her time working on the Mauritania Continent.”

The analyst’s calm voice echoed through the building’s interior.

“Her lover, Jean Marbo, was also connected to the terrorist activities. However, Jean Marbo has gone missing, and Gabi Schneider’s head exploded during an interrogation, resulting in her death. I believe that Jean Marbo, much like Gabi Schneider, is dead.”

A scanned document appeared on the screen.

“The Inquisition shared centuries-old materials they had been preserving. Thanks to that, we’ve discovered that the explosion from her head was a forbidden dark magic developed by wizards during the war between the Cult and the Magic Tower.”

The analyst from the Royal Intelligence Department continued speaking.

“From this moment on, all operations will focus on killing rather than capturing. As the senior analyst, I will support you to ensure you can carry out your mission as cleanly as possible.”

“……”

“Let’s all make it out alive.”

—

Episode 13 – There Is No Country for Wizards

—

Gabi Schneider is dead.

During her abduction by the Royal Intelligence Department’s operations team while being interrogated, her head was blown to bits.

The cause of the explosion was magic.

More precisely, it was one of numerous spells developed by the Magic Tower to prevent wizard betrayal during the war against the Cult, a magic that had since been classified as dark magic and banned right after the war.

Using information shared from the Inquisition, the rotund analyst deduced that this magic had been implanted in Gabi Schneider’s brain.

The trigger for the magic’s activation was a confidential leak.

The moment she uttered a specific word, it became the detonator that activated the spell.

And that word was a person’s name.

There was no way to find out why such a dangerous forbidden magic was implanted in a Secretariat employee’s head. Terrorism, assassination of information officers, abduction of agents, and so on. Countless stories emerged, but I had no information at hand.

Nevertheless, one fact was clear.

“…I’ve gotten myself into a troublesome situation.”

After the briefing concluded, we moved to a nearby naval base.

Accommodations that Leoni arranged within the naval port. I tossed the keys onto the table and collapsed onto the sofa.

“What do you think of the materials?”

“Um… solid, I suppose?”

Pippin, sitting in the kitchen and flipping through the documents, replied.

“I’ve gone through everything from the obtained intelligence to the analysis process, supporting materials, and internal meeting minutes; nothing seems amiss. The Royal Intelligence Department analysts are quite skilled.”

Jake cracked open a hard-shelled walnut he bought from the store with a knife and handed the core over to Pippin.

“Are there no missing or lacking parts?”

“Nope.”

“And Charnoy, what about you?”

“I share the same opinion as Pippin…!”

Charnoy replied cheerfully, munching on the walnut. Confirming their responses, Jake stabbed the walnut with the knife and, with a determined twist, looked at me.

“That’s what I’ve been told, Manager.”

There was no dissent regarding the Royal Intelligence Department’s analysis; I felt the same.

The department’s capabilities were not something one could easily overlook. Over the past decade, while tracking down terrorists, information documents collected from more than ten information agencies filled a library to overflowing with details.

However,

“…sigh.”

“What are you worried about?”

There were plenty of worries.

It was a problem that several information officers and agents had been assassinated, but the bigger issue was that the terrorists in the background were wizards. Not just any wizards, but official personnel from the Magic Tower—trusted elite wizards sent to conflict areas by the Secretariat, the highest government agency of the Magic Tower.

But it turned out that these individuals were terrorists who carried out attacks against the Abas Information Agency and numerous intelligence agencies, including the Kien Empire, Republic of Patalia, and the Lushan Federal Kingdom.

One could think that the company had messed up, but it’s also true that there were some suspicious corners.

Jean Marbo went missing on the day a necromancer appeared and was declared dead, while Gabi Schneider’s head exploded during questioning by a Royal Intelligence Department investigator.

Martinez, the head of the Secretariat, hid the employee’s disappearance from his superior, Francesca.

When documents go missing, it’s customary for civil servants to report it, yet he didn’t report even when a person went missing. Given the behavior Martinez had shown up to this point, it didn’t add up just to be an action to evade discipline.

The problem was that Leoni intended to assassinate them in the northern Kien Empire, where martial law had been declared.

And that the targets of the assassination were Francesca’s subordinates.

I lit a cigarette and took a drag.

“Jake, do you think the company can go for an assassination in the north?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s impossible.”

Jake, a former Special Forces operative, discussed quasi-military operations.

“Assassination, abduction, terrorism, sabotage, and theft are indeed high-difficulty operations. The risk is even more significant if the operational area is an enemy state. But the very fact that they consider using force in the operation planning stage indicates a lack of options to deal with the situation quietly.”

“Exactly.”

“So it doesn’t matter. Whether you shoot and run, or poison and kill—either way, if you get caught, you’ll either spend a few years in prison if you’re lucky, or get executed if you’re not.”

“You jerk….”

I looked at him with teary eyes.

“What kind of manners are those? How do you speak so beautifully?”

“Thank you, Manager.”

“Alright, bring me some walnuts.”

As Jake returned with a handful of walnuts, the phone began to ring. It was Pippin’s call. While sitting around the kitchen table with Charnoy and reviewing the documents, she picked up the phone, mumbled something, then hung up and began to look at me.

“The Royal Intelligence Department just contacted us. They want department heads to gather for a moment.”

“…Understood.”

I stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray, tossed a walnut into my mouth, and left the accommodation.

—

The moment I stepped out of the accommodation, I climbed into the waiting car. The naval officer who had come to pick me up led me through the still harbor and into a secluded underground building.

Inside, the rotund analyst had already arrived, along with the team leader and sub-team leader of the operations team, and a few others were waiting.

As I opened the door and entered, I spoke to the nearby sub-team leader.

“I’m a bit late.”

“No, you arrived on time.”

The rotund analyst, who moved uncomfortably, addressed me and the sub-team leader.

“Ah, everyone is here. Come on, friends. Let’s wrap this up quickly and head back to rest.”

He called together the scattered information officers, leaning on his staff.

The first to speak was the analyst who had gathered us.

“Thank you so much for coming together at this late hour. I am Larry. I worked in the Royal Intelligence Department’s analysis bureau and joined this team as a senior analyst a few months ago on the orders of ‘the Committee.’”

Larry, who introduced himself, was quite a unique individual. It seemed he had a disability and couldn’t use one of his legs.

He gestured toward the information officers standing in the back, the team leader, and the sub-team leader.

“These are my colleagues who work in the same company. And over here are Matthew and Steven, the team leader and sub-team leader of the operations team. Among us, they are the oldest and most experienced seniors. Feel free to call them Matt or Steve.”

The sub-team leader, who had been called out, placed his hands on his hips and shot a dissatisfied look at Larry.

“Shut up, Larry.”

“Oh, sorry. I was too hasty. It should have been you introducing yourself.”

“It wasn’t necessary since we’ve already done introductions.”

“Right, right… Anyway, this distinguished gentleman here is Colonel Frederick Nostrim. I’m sure you’ve seen his face and name scrolling through the news in the office.”

The rotund senior analyst, Larry, introduced the operations team leader Matthew and sub-team leader Steven as the oldest and most experienced among us.

Typically, the highest-ranking employee would serve as the senior when multiple intelligence agency members gather; it seemed Matthew and Steven were the highest-ranking officers among us. Of course, with their age well into their forties, they were not just seniors but actually elder statesmen.

“The reason we’re gathered here is that of the ‘Committee.’ The recruitment was directly overseen by Director Leoni.”

Senior analyst Larry leaned on his staff and began.

“We are a grand meeting of high-ranking officials from the Intelligence Department, Foreign Affairs Ministry, Defense Ministry, Office of the Prime Minister, and the Home Affairs Ministry, as well as intelligence committee members from both houses. It’s like the shadow government of the Abas administration, I suppose?”

As Larry rambled on jokingly, perhaps sensing the weight of the attention on him, he waved it away.

“Forget the last remark. If it gets to the Inspection Office, they’ll dock my pay even for a joke. Anyway! The Committee has finally approved this assassination operation. The Prime Minister just signed off on it.”

“That’s good news.”

The operations team leader and senior intelligence officer, Matthew, spoke up. He crossed his arms and leaned back while posing his question.

“So why did you call us together?”

“Of course, it’s about dividing roles. Let’s set roles before we coordinate the details of the operation.”

Although it was called role distribution, there wasn’t much to discuss. Leoni had already gathered teams specialized in each area from the Royal Intelligence Department and the Military Intelligence Agency.

“First off, we’ll handle overall support and intelligence analysis for the operation. If you gather intelligence or need equipment while on-site, just let me know. I’ll analyze it as quickly as possible and supply the equipment.”

Senior analyst Larry led the Royal Intelligence Department’s analysis team and the Military Intelligence Agency’s operational support team, forming the headquarters.

Funding, equipment, vehicles, passports, identification, safe houses, etc. Larry’s job was to supply not just intelligence analysis but all resources and assets necessary for the operation.

Naturally, the fieldwork would fall to operations team leader Matthew and sub-team leader Steven. At first glance, they looked like quasi-military operatives and were responsible for gathering intelligence, simple analysis, and the assassination, the climax and core element of this operation.

“So what do I do?”

“Oh, of course you have something to do too. Follow me.”

Larry waved me over, waddling uncomfortably. I followed him toward the wall of the underground building.

As he tapped the ground with his staff, Larry spoke in a slightly excited voice.

“Since we need to enter an area under martial law, obtaining identification was quite tricky. Thanks to you, I was able to pose as a volunteer from the Cult. I wanted to thank you very much when we finally met, and I’m happy to do it now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, your task is quite simple. You’ll collect intelligence needed for the operations team and handle some minor eavesdropping tasks. If you want, you could actively participate on-site, too. But the most crucial task your team has to do right now is moving equipment.”

“Equipment?”

“Yes, equipment. Most of the equipment has been moved north already. However, some pieces simply cannot be moved by human strength… I’ve heard Director Leoni thinks you could lend a hand, is that true?”

“Yes… something like that.”

I wasn’t sure what the equipment was, but if I went through Francesca, I could likely disguise it as contraband for transport to the north. Saying I thought it would be possible made Larry visibly thrilled as he clapped his hands.

He opened a small side door and led me into another room.

Waddling like a duck, Larry presented his identification to the iron door, and as we arrived in a spacious room, he spread his arms wide and laughed loudly.

“Ha ha, look at this!”

Following him into the room, I froze in place at what lay before my eyes.

“…What is this?”

“The vehicles for the operations team!”

Larry exclaimed with uncontained delight, grinning like a child.

He patted the hood higher than his waist as he spoke.

“I’ve spent weeks modifying these. Of course, there are more equipment as well. Prepared meticulously, since we never know what might happen on-site.”

As I surveyed the vehicles in the room, I was at a loss for words and turned my head in disbelief.

“…You can’t be serious. You want me to move those armored-like vehicles?”

The senior analyst smiled broadly.

“Of course you do!”

“…Ha.”

As I looked at the sturdy, military-like vehicles, I facepalmed, sighing.

What kind of lunatic is this?

—

-‘…Hello.’

“Hey, Francesca. It’s me.”

-‘Oh, Colonel. What brings you here? It’s early morning here….’

“Sorry, but could you call a truck for me? I’ll send you the address.”

-‘…Right now?’

“Yes.”

-‘…You’re not calling for that, are you? This isn’t a funny joke.’

“I’m not joking, it’s serious. I need to move a few vehicles.”

-‘……’

“……”

-‘…Are you insane?’