A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“Why are you yawning like that?”

As I lounged in the warm sunlight of the cathedral’s corridor, a familiar voice reached my ears.

It was Camila.

“You’re here, huh?”

“What were you doing here?”

“Just resting.”

Camila trudged over and took the seat next to me.

Maybe it was because her body temperature was high; despite the chilly weather, her attire was light to the extreme. Nevertheless, Camila was dressed in an elegantly stylish manner.

Is it because she comes from a gentleman’s country? She had adorned herself in a typical British upper-class style (tweed and knee-high boots).

Where on earth did she get those?

“How posh.”

“That’s a compliment, right?”

“Did you think I was being sarcastic?”

Camila flashed a bright smile, now a trademark cheeky grin.

“So, why are you here?”

“I came to rest too.”

The British girl complained about the crowd. She mentioned it would be one thing if it were a party with acquaintances, but mingling among much older folks was not her style.

I paused my search through my suit jacket. My hand, unable to find a cigarette, only ended up patting my hair instead.

“It’s exhausting dealing with older folks.”

“You’ve had quite a lot of experience, haven’t you?”

“After a while, you get used to dealing with folks older than your dad.”

“Aha!”

The girl nodded energetically and clapped her hands.

“So that’s why you’ve been talking like an old-school grandpa every time!”

—

Episode 14 – One Religion, One Faith, Two Saints

—

“Get on your stomach.”

“I’m sorry!”

I felt the familiar heavy sensation. The mop that I had brought from the restroom was snugly wrapped around my palm.

“Where’s the sense in punishing me for playing around!”

I told Camila to lie down with the mop I had acquired locally, and she clutched my wrist, pulling a teary face.

It was an embarrassing scene that was hard to show to anyone else.

Perhaps it was because I remembered being chased around with the ‘loving rod (a birch stick)’ during run time while staying at the Magic Tower. Camila, who was about to be punished, was crying and causing a scene.

The struggle continued for a while.

I presented her with the choice between a beating and a month-long dessert ban, and after much deliberation, we agreed to confiscate her desserts for a month.

“Phew….”

“We’re going to get swallowed up. Stop sighing and hurry up.”

—

There was still some time until the canonization ceremony, but the cathedral was bustling with people.

Politicians and bureaucrats filled numerous seats, and priests dressed in ceremonial robes busily moved around.

It was the government delegation and high-ranking clergy.

According to protocol, the canonization ceremony should have been grand, with Lucia entering the cathedral through Lateran alongside the clergy’s procession, followed by about six hours of ceremonies, finishing off with a large-scale street parade featuring thousands of knights and auxiliary personnel. However,

Due to Lucia’s request not to favor formalities, the Holy See decided to tone down the extensive parade and hold the canonization ceremony more simply.

Of course, Lucia wanted even that parade entirely canceled, but unfortunately, her request was not accepted due to the clergy’s concerns about the religious authority.

And today, the ceremony would see the attendance of magicians.

Just then, a magician seated next to me broke the silence in a low voice.

“It seems the cult took the canonization ceremony quite seriously, Colonel.”

“Indeed.”

Francesca lifted her head and surveyed the surroundings.

The atmosphere of the cathedral, meticulously adorned by the Holy See, was truly grandiose. The moment one stepped inside, they were overwhelmed by the holiness exuded by the architecture.

“Hmm….”

As her eyes narrowed and her violet-like gaze sparkled, Francesca began to hum with interest.

“The cathedral is attractive as it is a distinguished building, but I think those with delicate constitutions might find this atmosphere a bit overwhelming.”

“Are there really any delicate people here? They are all representatives of the government.”

“Well….”

Her rosy lips formed a graceful curve.

“Were the magicians who rushed here after receiving a word from the Imperial Foreign Affairs Department?”

Just before the Duke led the imperial officials to Lateran, the Magic Tower had gotten wind of the news through their diplomatic channels.

The news that the founder of the elemental school and a legendary figure of the magical community—who built the Magic Tower through war—was leading a delegation to the Order left a profound shock in the magical society.

Thus, the Magic Tower government, initially intending to just send out a formal invitation and issue a customary congratulatory message, hurriedly dispatched a representative the day before the ceremony.

“Was the representative from the Magic Tower the ambassador to the Lushan Federation?”

“Yes. A prominent figure as the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs. He has previously been dispatched to the Secretariat.”

“An elite, indeed.”

The ambassador who had just returned from abroad attended the canonization ceremony alone, representing the Magic Tower alongside the Oracle.

Considering that other countries sent delegations consisting of at least prime ministers and ministers, the Magic Tower’s decision to send just one ambassador raised some eyebrows.

However, nobody present could criticize the Magic Tower for a breach of diplomatic protocol.

On the contrary, whispers of “Did the Magic Tower really send someone?” filled the air.

Francesca rested her chin on her hand and muttered.

“I didn’t expect the Magic Tower to genuinely send a representative. Did you know, Colonel?”

“How would I know? I’m not an astrologer or anything.”

“I heard recently there’s been discussions in the diplomatic circles to normalize diplomatic relations following Saint Lucia’s visit. Did you know about that?”

“Was that mentioned at the meeting held in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs seminar room?”

“How did you know that, Colonel?”

“The embassy folks informed me. I even have friends in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.”

“Oh, your sister is a diplomat, right?”

We shared casual banter regarding the diplomatic relationship between the Magic Tower and cult while seated with a civil servant from the Magic Tower. In that moment, I could hear voices discussing my country’s major affairs around us.

Elected politicians and an elected dictator, bureaucrats giving orders and civil servants obeying. Those who relish the authority and glory of the secular world were busily moving about, standing at the cusp of a new saint’s birth.

Yet, the person who caught the most attention here wasn’t the ambassador from the Magic Tower or any foreign politician; it was us.

With excitement shining in her eyes, Camila blinked at the attention she was receiving, and I slowly scanned the suit-wearing folks amidst the crowd.

Some approached with interest, but conversations didn’t last long.

Whenever Francesca or I indirectly issued an order to leave the table, they all awkwardly laughed and discreetly excused themselves. Neither diplomats nor politicians were exceptions.

For the record, Camila didn’t even engage properly in the conversations. Her mind seemed elsewhere entirely.

“Oh, looks like it’s about to start.”

Camila whispered softly as I was lost in conversation.

Francesca and I ceased chatting, and the voices of the delegates settled down as well.

A solemn silence enveloped the grand cathedral.

The weighty silence was broken by the entrance of a saint, who emerged through the enormous doorway.

—

With the bishop’s introduction, the choir’s hymns, the golden crown being bestowed, and the anointment of sacred oil, the six-hour canonization ceremony finally came to a close.

The sun set behind the mountains.

Night fell.

Those who had come to the holy land celebrated the birth of the saint in their own ways. Some cheered, while others lit candles dedicated to the cathedral.

Countless lights filled the main road.

Following the dense crowd, a river of light illuminated Lateran’s night in a splendid display.

Lucia, gently folding her hands in prayer, raised her head.

Though winter had passed, the night air was still cold, and only after her white breath dispersed into the air could her soft voice finally emerge.

“It’s finally over.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

As Lucia smiled sweetly and nodded, her golden hair cascaded down, settling upon her pure white priestly garb.

“If we’re talking about hard work, you all have done far more than I.”

It had been a full six hours for the canonization ceremony.

Subtracting the procession, the main event alone took six hours, meaning we had effectively spent the entire day at the ceremony.

“We probably had it easier than Lucia. She was the star of the canonization ceremony.”

“Still, you must have been tired, right?”

“I was just sitting there. I’ve worked 16-hour days before; six hours is nothing.”

“…Is that so?”

Her gentle eyes curved like a crescent moon.

Amidst the golden waves illuminating the holy land’s night, the voice of a priest in search of the saint reached me, mingling with people’s laughter in the soft breeze.

Upon hearing that eager voice clearly, I chuckled lightly.

“I guess I’ve held you up for too long. I should really get going.”

“Yes.”

Lucia nodded and smiled brightly.

“I hope to see you again soon.”

Having briefly stepped out to catch my breath, I swiftly returned to the banquet hall.

The canonization ceremony concluded with the knights’ street procession, but the real festivities were just beginning.

The date of the coronation ceremony was the day after tomorrow.

With today included, political leaders and bureaucrats from all nations would be staying in Lateran for about three days.

As long as they weren’t just here for a vacation on the state’s money, those representing the government had to accomplish something before they left.

Thus, the banquet held immediately after the canonization ceremony was akin to a gigantic job fair. It was rare for leaders and representatives from over a hundred countries to gather in one place, making the banquet hall reminiscent of a UN general assembly.

I quietly joined my colleagues at our table, navigating through the bustling banquet hall.

“I’m back.”

“Welcome back, Colonel.”

“Oh, you just got here?”

Camila, who was digging into her chicken salad with a fork, tilted her head in question.

“Where did you go?”

“I went for a quick breath of fresh air and met with Lucia. Nothing much happened, right?”

“Yep, that’s right.”

I hadn’t been away too long, so it had turned out to be nothing worrisome.

Camila was chewing her salad and replied.

“There weren’t any issues. People came by to talk here and there, though.”

“Who exactly came to talk?”

“Government officials, politicians, clergy, journalists…. A variety of people!”

That was indeed the case.

Camila was savoring the lavish banquet provided by the cult while recounting the various foreign visitors who had approached her, and Francesca did the same.

Due to the time constraint, most guests exchanged business cards and moved on to other tables, but a few popped over even while we were enjoying our meals.

“Wonderful to finally meet you! I’m Shayir, Deputy Minister of Magic from the Lushan Federal Kingdom.”

“Hello! I’m Camila Lowell.”

“I’ve heard much about the Hero’s renown. Just as I heard, your foreign language skills are exceptional! Isn’t that right, Colonel?”

“You seem well-informed. I’m Colonel Frederick Nostrim from the Ministry of Defense of Abas.”

“I know. I also heard that the Colonel is quite fluent in foreign languages? I’d take you for a native speaker, haha.”

“And the Deputy Minister is fluent in Abasan too. You majored in international relations in Abas, yeah?”

“That’s right! I received my degree from the Royal University. I heard that the Hero is majoring in international relations too, is that correct?”

“Yup! More specifically, it’s conflict studies!”

The people who approached Camila were primarily from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs or security-related departments.

After traversing the northern conflict, Camila’s abilities seemed to reach the level of a walking artillery, thus drawing attention from security personnel.

Furthermore, word had circulated widely that she specialized in conflict studies, a branch of international relations, making her the center of interest for governments embroiled in various conflicts.

“Miss Ranieri. It’s an honor to meet you again.”

“It’s been a while, Director.”

“I would like to discuss the desiccated swamp development project. Would that be possible?”

“You mean the one in the Baari’Dun Peninsula? But wasn’t that project contracted out by the Ivory Tower? I’m curious why you’re asking me about an Ivory Tower issue.”

“Well, that’s precisely why I’m here. Could you please relay this matter to the Oracle? Along with the magic stone mining project?”

On the other hand, the visitors to Francesca were largely from the Ministry of Magic or trade-related sectors. They spoke Arabic or languages related to magic, engaging in discussions about magical interests.

For context, the majority of visitors to Camila spoke their native tongues, as she was adept at the local language even if they couldn’t speak English.

I wondered how she managed to use foreign languages fluently without any formal education. To be honest, I envied her more than being curious about it.

If I could speak foreign languages like Camila, I wouldn’t have had to struggle so hard with my language studies.

Just as I was immersed in my gloomy thoughts while gnawing on the chicken, Camila sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair.

“Ah, I’m so tired….”

“Are you okay?”

“No, not at all.”

The British girl, who majored in conflict studies at Cambridge and interned with SIS (MI6), looked miserable.

“I’m baffled by all these people coming up to me just to talk about gloomy matters. They ask me to resolve their countries’ conflicts, does that even make sense?”

“Why do you think it doesn’t?”

With that simple question, Camila immediately replied as if she had been waiting for it.

“Racial, religious, territorial rights, resources! All these conflicts are intertwined with troublesome issues right off the bat!”

She was right.

In terms of the struggle for survival, conflicts in this region were fundamentally the same as those occurring around the world.

However, the underlying desperation was on a whole different dimension.

Losing just one piece of land could significantly increase the pressure on the central government. As the government struggles to cope with that pressure, problems start bubbling up throughout society.

Whether it’s protests or regime change, be it a coup or an election, foreign intelligence agencies meddling—whichever way, the government can fall, and while it does, the problems fester like untreated wounds.

If a civil war were to erupt, everything would spiral out of control.

Refugees dash away to safe zones to survive, and warlords and government forces wage battles to capture those safe zones. In between, cities often fall because they can’t fend off the monsters encroaching in.

Of course, there are rare cases where foreign governments, moved by tragically heart-wrenching massacres, send in armies under the pretense of “small costs,” but that is an exception rather than the rule.

War is bad for business.

And business and politics are only a sheet of paper apart.

In the end, apart from a few survivable nations, the rest must endure a miserable existence. The situation deteriorated further as one spun down the ladder toward failed states.

However, the overwhelming majority of great powers do not involve themselves in foreign coups or conflicts unless there is a compelling reason. This truth is evidenced by the US evacuating from Afghanistan and Russia diverting focus from the Levant region to concentrate on the 2014 conflict with Ukraine.

Thus, whether it’s the Kien Empire, Abas, or the cult, small countries without a foothold have little choice but to appeal to the international community or grab onto Camila’s coattails.

While one death turns a million into mourning, the deaths of a million attract no attention at all.

People living off government salaries tend not to spare a glance at matters that hold no interests for them.

In other words,

I have no intention of getting involved in those kinds of conflicts.

“What’s the big deal? You’ve been to conflict zones for medical volunteer work, so you know the realities well enough.”

“Yes, certainly, but….”

“Don’t dwell on it. Worrying too much about such matters will only give you headaches. No matter how British you are, should you really go around tossing bombs onto other countries?”

“What on earth are you saying?”

“Oh, come on. Isn’t that typical of Anglo-American countries? Dropping bombs on brown-skinned people.”

“Do you want to die!?”

“Whoa, whoa, please don’t unleash your power! This isn’t a place where you can set things ablaze like in popcorn fields and come to an agreement!”

“Yaaaaah! Why are you bringing this up now!”

The sparks flew from Camila’s mouth. Not a metaphorical fire; I mean actual flames.

Passersby gasped, saying, “Wow, it’s a dragon!” as they were amazed and applauded her fiery display, but I was hardly capable of admiration as I observed the flames erupting right in front of me.

After a considerable disagreement passed, Camila, having claimed a delectable chicken leg as loot, finally started regaining her composure.

Just then, a guest from another table came to visit us.

Speaking fluent Kien.

“Colonel Frederick.”

The matter was simple.

The imperial official said,

“The Duke wishes to see you.”

And added,

“Your companions may come along too.”