A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Civil war is a tragedy that occurs across all times and places. While there may be some differences depending on the socio-cultural environment, the act of killing one’s own kind is generally considered a taboo.

The magical society is a group that reacts sensitively to this taboo.

A magician who kills another magician faces capital punishment, while those who deceive and exploit magicians to produce research results are subjected to harsh penalties.

The somewhat extreme punishments in the magical society stem from a history marred by massive repression and struggles of religions that have persisted for thousands of years.

Especially before the establishment of the Magic Tower, there was no group to lead and guide magicians, which resulted in frequent disputes among magicians. Those magicians who operated in secrecy from society acted as outlaws, receiving no legal protection or punishment. They were strictly governed by the logic of survival of the fittest and the law of the jungle.

Thus, historians from the Magic Tower and the Ivory Tower referred to this period as the “Age of Barbarism.”

However, everything changed once the Magic Tower was established.

Order was brought to the chaotic magical society, and this process spilled countless amounts of blood. Combat magicians, united under the Oracle, executed magicians who resisted control and dismantled their schools.

And thus, the Age of Barbarism came to an end.

In modern times, the surveillance and punishment of the magical society have become the domain governed by the Magic Tower and the Ivory Tower, which monopolize force.

In other words,

Killing a magician without the Magic Tower’s permission is a serious crime.

“Welcome, Colonel. I’ve heard news of your departure from the homeland.”

“Where is Francesca now?”

I immediately took my passport and flew to the Magic Tower. The diplomats who received contact from the Ministry of Defense guided me to the headquarters of the Magic Tower’s public security.

There, I found myself face to face with,

“…It’s been a while.”

At last, I was able to meet Francesca.

“Colonel.”

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

“…I can’t express how surprised I was to hear that you voluntarily surrendered to public security.”

“I’m sorry for causing you unnecessary worry.”

Francesca leaned back in her recliner, and I sat on the sofa across from her, fiddling with a lighter.

Although it had only been about two weeks since we last met, her expression was quite bright.

“Most people lose weight after a public security investigation. You look radiant.”

“I was questioned as a suspect, but the investigators were kind to me. They gave me some leniency.”

Francesca, a senior official of the Magic Tower’s Secretariat and a promising candidate from the three major schools, was an elite respected by all magicians.

Even though public security is a rather high-and-mighty group, it’s not easy to treat someone like Francesca like a common person. Besides, her ancestor was the archmage who founded the Magic Tower.

She confessed to killing the necromancer who murdered a magician and submitted all the evidence she gathered to public security.

But the important thing is that she was released.

And that the prosecution didn’t bring her to trial.

“Did everyone really not know that there was a necromancer in the Secretariat?”

Francesca nodded in affirmation.

“Yes. We had no idea.”

The presence of necromancers, which had shaken the empire for the past month, was revealed to the world—an existence unknown even to public security, the Magic Battalion in the North, her affiliated school, and even the Oracle and those around her.

Francesca admitted to killing four necromancers, excluding Jean Marbo, whose death had been confirmed.

Considering that a necromancer would be akin to an international terrorist in the global context, this was a civilian killing four heinous terrorists—not a soldier or police officer. In fact, looking at the actions of Martinez and his group over the past 20 years, they were indeed terrorists.

Taking into account the urgent circumstances and the danger posed by the necromancers, the public security investigator determined that Francesca’s killings fit the criteria for self-defense.

Thus, the investigator decided not to prosecute Francesca, who killed the magician to “save the lives of innocent civilians and uphold the legal interests of the Magic Tower.”

Of course, that’s merely a legal interpretation.

There’s a separate political interpretation at play.

“That such a secretive and select group like the Secretariat had four necromancers among them….”

“Actually, it’s five. Marbo was one of them, remember?”

The fact that necromancers infiltrated the Secretariat, a body only accessible by the elites of magical society, is disgraceful enough, but it becomes a real issue that five of them collectively caused trouble in the North.

They brought in foreign public servants to resolve a conflict only to find out they were terrorists? And that those terrorists committed acts of terror against the military?

This isn’t just about face; it’s a national crisis.

I flicked my lighter and posed a question.

“The empire certainly bears some responsibility for failing the background checks, but the greatest blame lies with the Magic Tower. After all, it was the Tower that selected and sent them to the North, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“If the empire raises this matter… oh boy. They’ll be hiring many people in the newly open positions in the intelligence agency next year.”

The greatest victim of this incident is not Francesca but the empire itself. The Magic Tower has lost face, but the empire has lost lives and property.

The “Rifts,” which function as the national strategic facility producing mana stones, were attacked by swarms of demons; hundreds of missing residents turned into undead, and several major cities burned overnight.

But now it turns out that the mastermind behind all these incidents is a magician from the Magic Tower? A public servant from the Secretariat?

Naturally, the imperial government cannot help but doubt the connection between the necromancers and the Magic Tower. They may even suspect, “Is the Oracle colluding with the necromancers and summoning demons?” And it will be the duty of the Imperial Guard HQ and the Empire Information Agency to prove that fact.

Of course, it’s too obvious that the Kien Empire will strongly protest the Magic Tower.

Maybe it could even lead to statements from the Foreign Affairs Ministry, the Chancellor, or at worst, the imperial family.

Therefore, regardless of what crime the Magic Tower committed, they cannot touch a single hair on Francesca. If they do, suspicion will turn into certainty.

That’s precisely why Francesca, as a public servant, could sit calmly despite receiving a decision of non-prosecution.

“You won’t have to worry about being fired from the service. Congratulations.”

“Mm….”

Francesca’s home was located in the level known as the heart of the Magic Tower, where an expansive artificial sea crafted by the wise archmage filled the walls.

As she gazed at the waves breaking on the sandy shore, she suddenly began to smile enticingly as she opened a cork from a bottle of wine.

“It’s been two weeks since we last met, and all you talk about is work?”

“Are you feeling neglected?”

“Just a bit…?”

Francesca, holding a magic herb pipe, ground the herb and murmured with a mischievous tone.

It seemed she was planning to enjoy the herb with her wine. I struck a match and lit her pipe as she opened the drawer.

As Francesca, looking for a flame, naturally paused her actions, the smoky haze seeped out from between her wine-soaked lips.

Once the fire had fully caught, I tossed the spent match into the ashtray when Francesca spoke up.

“From my recollection, I’ve never seen you use a match, Colonel. Where did you get that?”

“I bought one.”

“What do you plan to use it for?”

I waved the noisy matchbox playfully.

“Occasionally, you might need someone to bring your matches, right?”

“How kind of you.”

Public security began its full investigation. The evidence Francesca presented proved that Martinez and his gang were necromancers, and from there, public security began to unravel the case.

“I heard the Secretariat recently conducted a search and seizure. Was that the reason?”

“Basically. Do you still have the copies tucked away, Colonel?”

“I’ve already handed them over.”

Francesca visited me before submitting the evidence she found at her accommodations and office in the North to public security.

I passed everything along to Senior Analyst Larry.

Considering this assassination operation originated from a terrorist investigation against the Abas agents twenty years ago, reports would have undoubtedly reached not only Leoni but also the Prime Minister.

Anyway.

I sipped the wine Francesca offered and discussed our upcoming schedule.

“I heard the empire is going to present the medal. The ceremony is almost upon us.”

“Time is tight, but we’ll have to prepare. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Since you have to receive it personally, get ready from now on. I’ve informed Camila as well.”

“Oh, by the way, where is the Hero?”

“He’s in Abas. Lucia has returned to her country.”

With the canonization ceremony on the horizon, Lucia returned to the cult early.

Although Lucia expressed her desire to partake in the medal ceremony, due to her many preparations, it was agreed between the empire and the cult that she would send a representative to collect the medal.

“With Lucia’s absence, things might feel a bit awkward, but since it’s an event hosted by the imperial family, it’d be wise to stay sharp.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

“And the canonization ceremony….”

I trailed off momentarily.

“They say it’s proceeding as scheduled, but did you receive the invitation?”

The cult had sent invitations to high-ranking officials from various countries ahead of the canonization ceremony.

The leaders of various governments, including the invited Prime Minister and President, had planned to lead delegations composed of ministers and diplomatic staff as they indulged in their overseas trips.

Since Lucia was the main character of the canonization ceremony, it was only natural that invitations were also extended to her fellow companions.

The problem was that Francesca was a magician affiliated with the Magic Tower.

“As you know, there’s never been a case of a Magic Tower member attending the cult’s events. They do send invitations periodically, but….”

The cult consistently sends invitations to the Magic Tower and the Ivory Tower for special events. However, not a single magician has attended these invitations.

Given that the cult is the Magic Tower’s greatest enemy.

Unlike the United States or Soviet Union, which have established embassies and maintained exchanges over the years, the Magic Tower and the cult have been consistent in ignoring one another, merely adhering to face-saving decorum.

So, which insane magician would dare to show their face at a cult event?

This invitation has a similar context.

It’s an invitation only out of formality, and there’s no real expectation that anyone would attend. There’s absolutely no need to be disappointed that they didn’t show up either. The thought of participating was never entertained.

But Francesca isn’t just any public servant; she’s Lucia’s ally.

“It’s a dilemma whether attending would be a problem or not.”

The fact that Francesca is a descendant of an archmage is controversial enough, but the timing of it all is incredible. The invitation happened to arrive just as she confessed to killing four necromancers.

It’s truly a troublesome situation.

“I don’t know what the Duke is thinking. If we’re already going after demons, why not catch the necromancers as well?”

To solve this problem, I sought the wisdom of my older sister Adela, who is an active diplomat, along with some officials from the Foreign Affairs Ministry.

“Just show your face and leave. If absolutely necessary, you can even send a letter through a representative.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Francesca spoke up.

“I’ll be fine attending the canonization ceremony this time.”

*

A woman stands atop the marble.

Her shimmering silver hair radiating a mystical light is indeed quite beautiful.

The guards stationed by the corridor don’t even spare a glance at her. Gently lowering her chin and holding her head high, the Duke passed through the grand doorway.

Before her stood a cozy chamber.

And a venerable old man sleeping surrounded by people.

“Come closer.”

Upon the woman’s command, the elderly doctors gathered like clouds. The men, whose appearances suggested they were just over thirty, bowed before her.

The eldest among the doctors, still with his head bowed, began to speak.

“We greet Your Grace, the Duke.”

Alexandra Smirnov, the Duke of the Northern Regions, greeted them with a slight nod. She then posed her question in a solemn voice.

“What is the condition of His Majesty the Emperor?”

The doctor, who was the Emperor’s chief physician, responded to her inquiry.

“His illness has improved. It seems the dragon bone you sent had an effect.”

“How much better has he become? Speak specifically.”

“His Majesty had breakfast with His Highness the Crown Prince. After breakfast, he read the letters from the Princesses and wrote his replies.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes.”

The Duke walked slowly. The attending physicians bowed carefully and stepped back to clear the way.

Standing beside the bed, the Duke captured the face of the sleeping Emperor, Nikolai VI, in her azure eyes.

Gently holding the hand of the slumbering Emperor, the Duke closed her eyes and murmured.

“So that is the case.”

She spoke.

“Do you think it’s possible for him to fully recover?”

“Th-that….”

The physicians stammered at the Duke’s question. Amidst the visibly flustered doctors, an older man who had previously greeted the Duke spoke up.

“Your Grace. I apologize, but for His Majesty’s condition to improve….”

“A miracle.”

The Duke turned toward the old man.

Her sapphire-like eyes rested on the Emperor’s chief physician.

“You mentioned, didn’t you, that a miracle is required to resolve the illness?”

“…….”

“Doesn’t that imply that there’s essentially no chance of recovery?”

“…I can only say that, according to the physician’s opinion, the chances are slim.”

The Duke then asked the chief physician.

“That doesn’t mean there are no chances at all.”

With that said, the Duke rose from her position.

As she stood taller than any sturdy man, the guards at the door swung the door wide open.

“Inform the Foreign Minister. Prepare the Warp Gate, for I shall be departing.”

“Your Grace.”

The Emperor’s chief physician hastily called after the Duke.

“I must express my regrets, but it is too dangerous for you to go in person.”

“Is leaving the country more dangerous than slaying dragons and collecting bones?”

Before the heavily guarded doorway.

“Let it be known to the Saint.”

As she exited the Emperor’s chamber, where the physicians were urgently treating, she added,

“I’m going to collect my debts.”