A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“Are you getting ready to go out?”

Camila, who was lounging on the sofa eating the snacks delivered by room service, cast a quick glance at me. She abruptly asked the question while rapidly tapping the remote to change the TV channel.

However, seemingly unable to find a channel she liked, Camila shut off the TV. It looked like the monotonous news about similar stories couldn’t capture her interest.

Instead, she had found a new point of curiosity.

With her legs swinging playfully outside the sofa, Camila sat up and began to look behind her.

“Why are you suddenly dressing up? You haven’t been out long and you’ve even showered.”

I wiped the moisture from my face and wrists, shaking out the towel nonchalantly.

“I’m just stepping out for a bit.”

“At this late hour?”

The wall clock read 10:43 PM. I had put on the suit I left on the bed, while Camila, leaning over the back of the sofa, stared at me.

Taking a moment of silence as if to gather her thoughts, she suddenly threw a question at me.

“Can you take me with you?”

“No, I can go by myself.”

“Is it work-related?”

Nodding while brushing off the dust from my collar, I confirmed.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, I’m not sure.”

Dressed neatly in my suit, I grabbed my briefcase and answered Camila’s question.

“To a gravesite?”

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

A black sedan with diplomatic plates arrived in front of the hotel entrance.

The imperial diplomat in the driver’s seat parked the car in a screened area. The Suit Man waiting at the entrance carefully opened the door, and I got out without lifting a finger.

The hotel lobby, where only state guests visiting Lateran can stay, was filled with all sorts of Suit Men.

Those wearing earpieces were shining sharp gazes from behind their sunglasses.

As I passed through the entrance, I was the center of attention and approached the security checkpoint.

“Please provide your identification and name.”

“Frederick Nostrim. Attached to the Ministry of Defense of Abas.”

As soon as the civil servant from the Cult at the security checkpoint received my passport, he picked up the receiver to contact the Embassy of Abas. Next to the switching official, a Police Officer was checking my passport with a terminal.

“Identity confirmed, Brother. Please proceed to the elevator.”

Before passing through the metal detector, I left my bag in the lobby and walked through the security checkpoint.

At that moment, a few Suit Men who had been loitering around quietly followed behind me. They were bodyguards from the Imperial Guard.

The Imperial Guard essentially serves as the presidential security service.

It consists of three protection divisions and five security divisions, each performing different tasks according to their affiliation. Generally, the protection division is responsible for the close security of the Emperor, while the security division guards facilities such as palaces and villas.

It’s fair to say that despite being called a security detail, they primarily function as the emperor’s personal guard.

In any case, they are tricky individuals to deal with in many ways.

……

The bodyguards who entered the elevator didn’t say a word. They pressed the button for the upper floors and remained silent until we reached the highest floor.

Even when it was time to get off, they didn’t open their mouths, simply shifting to the sides and gesturing with their hands where to go.

The door situated at the end of the hallway.

On the top floor of the hotel, there was only one room. It was as if only one person could stay in this room.

There was no need to ponder who that person might be.

*

There is a famous phrase among scholars studying the Kien Empire.

The history of the Smirnov dynasty is the history of the Empire.

Countless nations that etched their names into history rise and fall repeatedly.

There are no flowers that maintain their redness for more than ten days, and absolute power invariably corrupts. A nation entering its golden age inevitably walks the path of decline, ultimately leading to its disappearance or absorption by another nation.

But not the Kien Empire.

Though it once walked the path of decline, it has never known defeat.

The history of the Empire is the history of the Smirnov dynasty, and the Empire is merely an extension of the Smirnov dynasty’s territory.

And one member of that dynasty stands before my eyes.

“You’ve come.”

The ruling dynasty of the Empire, the direct descendant of the late Emperor Peter II, Alexandra Petrovna recognized me as I entered the hotel room.

“Are you Frederick of the Nostrim family?”

With her enchanting silver hair and blue eyes seemingly inlaid with sapphires, the Duke, who retained her youthful appearance even past a hundred years old, exuded vigor in her voice.

She knew my name and surname, but it seems she hadn’t done any background research on me. If the Empire’s Information Agency had investigated me, they surely would have recognized at least my face.

“I am honored to meet Your Grace. I am Frederick Nostrim.”

I greeted the Duke in a respectful tone.

However, I neither bowed nor lowered my head.

As a soldier, it’s customary not to bow unless in extraordinary circumstances. After all, I’m also functioning as a diplomat.

The sight of the Duke, seated in a plush chair with a fireplace and a hefty magical tome, created a peculiar harmony. She looked like a mysterious wizard straight out of a movie.

But unlike the stereotypical wizard represented by a pointy hat and cape, the Duke was clad in a red uniform. Closer to royal attire than military, but the numerous medals on her uniform were undoubtedly beyond what a typical noble would possess.

As steam wafted up from a kettle that floated in the air, the Duke placed down her teacup and spoke lightly.

“You’ve arrived earlier than I expected. I didn’t imagine you would come so quickly.”

“You called for me, Your Grace.”

“Who conveyed the message to you?”

“Miss Ranieri of Patalia.”

The magical tome, comfortably situated at an ideal reading angle between my knees and head, caught Alexandra’s attention as she momentarily broke her gaze from the floating book, murmuring.

“If you’re a descendant of Ranieri… it must be Francesca, that child.”

The Duke gazed with a tinge of nostalgia as if recalling days long past, her eyes staring at the fireplace.

As the hefty magical book folded and flew toward the bookshelf, a kettle that had finished its role by filling the teacup slowly settled onto the table. Alexandra, sipping tea, lightly mentioned past events.

“Is the child doing well? Although she has a talent as great as her father’s, it might have been a burden for her.”

She was inquiring about Francesca’s condition. Since there was nothing to hide, I answered honestly.

“She is well. Her condition improved right after consuming the elixir sent from the Ivory Tower.”

“Anyone capable of sending an elixir to that child from the Ivory Tower would likely be Mukhtar’s son, Niazi. Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

The Duke nodded, looking somewhat relieved.

“Niazi has a close friendship with Ranieri’s child, and he surely picked out something valuable. The elixir that can save even a critically ill patient must have been sent for her. So, how about you? Having faced a demon with a body that cannot wield divine or magical powers, you must have sustained serious injuries.”

It seemed that Francesca’s claims about the exceptional intuition of those who have attained the rank of Archmage were not without merit.

The Duke had accurately discerned my condition without any prior investigation.

“Fortunately, I haven’t perished.”

“Your words suggest you are in decent shape.”

Once she finished her tea, the Duke stood up.

Despite being a person from a century ago, she towered over most men. As the flames flickered in the fireplace, casting a giant shadow across the hotel room, I cautiously surveyed the surroundings.

At that moment, the Duke suddenly spoke. Even without turning around, she calmly addressed me with her back turned.

“There are no bodyguards in the room I’m staying in. So, no need to feel tense or to be discreet.”

And indeed, there was no sign of anyone in the guest room.

The hallway felt the same. Despite the royal Duke staying right here, unlike the heavily secured lobby filled with armed forces and security checks, the top floor didn’t even have a single bodyguard.

But then again, one wonders if this gent even needs bodyguards or information officers.

Who would dare to call themselves a bodyguard for the Archmage Duke? That would be like asking a child to look after an adult.

Of course, even though that’s the case, failing to place a bodyguard here was undoubtedly a mistake.

Nonetheless, the Duke calmly lifted her teacup. Observing her composure, I noted that this situation seemed quite familiar to her.

Regarding her lack of bodyguards, she expressed:

“It is exceedingly uncomfortable to have someone loitering in front of my room. There must already be many eyes upon me, so I question the necessity of having someone guard the hallway.”

The Duke slowly moved toward the window.

Despite being completely exposed to outsiders without a bodyguard, it appeared she had no concern. The Archmage, still holding her teacup, gazed out at the night view of Lateran, the holy site of the Cult.

“Isn’t that right?”

“I don’t think it’s a topic I should comment on.”

“In that case, let’s discuss something we can.”

The Duke turned her body and perched herself on the window sill.

Gently placing her teacup down, she finally delved into the core of the matter.

“I have a question for you.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Can you assist me in meeting the red-haired child?”