A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The meeting between the Duke and Camila occurred much later than I had expected, taking on a slightly different form.

I had anticipated a quiet encounter between the two during or after the canonization ceremony, but the Duke only summoned us long after the meal had ended.

Could it be that the Duke had more tasks to handle than anticipated? Perhaps so.

She attended the canonization and coronation ceremonies as a representative of the Kien Empire. If someone wanted to discuss national affairs with a power player of the Empire, the Duke would be the most appropriate person. After all, she is the living aunt of the revered Nikolai VI and one of the only two Archmages still in existence.

It might have been a struggle for her to find the time amid her busy schedule to finally call us.

If the Duke has an entirely free schedule going forward, there could be plenty for her to discuss with us.

What could a hundred-year-old grandmother say to children who were more than two generations younger?

“Let’s go.”

“Okay!”

I set out to find the Duke with Camila and Francesca.

*

The path to visit the Duke wasn’t very far.

Although quite some time had passed since the canonization ceremony, many government delegations still lingered in the Cathedral. The Empire’s delegation was among them.

Since we happened to be in the Cathedral, finding the Duke wasn’t too difficult.

That said, the process leading up to the meeting with the Duke was not straightforward.

“I am Oksana, the Duke’s secretary.”

A middle-aged man with a blank expression greeted us ceremoniously. With an image so stern he could have been pricked with a needle and not bled, he introduced himself as “the Duke’s personal secretary.”

Considering the Duke’s royal status, it was easy to deduce that a secretary named Oksana was indeed a member of the royal family.

The royal family is a coveted workplace for many of the Empire’s civil servants.

Even though the Duke isn’t one with a claim to the throne, she is the living aunt of Emperor Nikolai VI. The Duke is certainly a member of the royal family, and given the high standing of royalty in the Empire, explaining just how considerable a position a royal personal secretary holds would be a waste of breath.

“It is an honor to meet you all.”

Oksana, the Duke’s secretary, offered her greeting smoothly in line with the protocol. Her actions flowed as effortlessly as water.

The secretary began to guide us to the Duke’s location.

In the meantime, she took the opportunity to relay a few precautions.

“When meeting the Duke, it is advisable not to maintain eye contact for too long. In the Empire, staring into someone’s eyes for an extended period is considered an impolite expression.”

“It may be different in your homeland, but in the Empire, conversations begin from the higher authority. Therefore, it’s best if questions are posed only after the Duke first speaks. There’s no need to overthink it. Simply wait for the Duke to utter the first word, and respond the moment she finishes.”

“His Highness Alexandra Petrovna is not a harsh person, and given her status, I think you need not overly concern yourselves with the complexities of royal etiquette. However, please refrain from any behavior that may be deemed disrespectful.”

This wasn’t overly complicated advice; it was simply a general caution against rude behavior. Nothing difficult to understand or accept.

In truth, even if she hadn’t said it, there wouldn’t exist anyone who could act rudely towards the Duke in this world.

The Duke is the Archmage who ended the Age of Barbarism and founded the Magic Tower. With a living veteran and powerful figure standing right before you, who in their right mind would utter insolent words?

Moreover, isn’t she over a hundred years old?

To put that into perspective for my country, she is akin to a grandmother who lived through the Joseon Dynasty, the Japanese Occupation, World War II, independence, the division of North and South, and the Korean War, surviving into modern times. Even the Queen of the United Kingdom, who has withstood the throne for ninety years without passing it down to a wayward child, would have to bow down before the Duke.

She is a figure old enough to play Go-stop with my great-grandmother in the senior center. Who would dare behave insolently in her presence?

Unless, perhaps, you had nine lives to toss around, even someone daring enough to walk around with their guts outside wouldn’t commit such an act.

“……”

I cautiously rolled my eyes to glance at Camila standing next to me.

And silently pondered to myself.

That’s probably how it is.

*

The place where the Duke stayed was one of the rooms in the Cathedral of Tranquille. It was a rest area set up by the cult’s side to accommodate the leaders of various nations.

Several men in suits were standing guard at the doorway.

Their tall stature and robust physiques, along with the earpieces connecting into their shirts, hinted that they were Imperial Guard attendants.

Looks like I’ve arrived correctly.

“Please wait here for a moment.”

After exchanging a few words with the guards, Oksana requested politely that we wait.

“What’s the matter?”

“I apologize, but there are previous guests who need to have the room tidied up, which may take a little time.”

“Oh, if it’s that problem, it’s fine. We can wait.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

Although our entry was delayed, there was no significant issue. There were still formalities to go through before meeting the Duke.

Security check.

“There will be a security check. We appreciate your cooperation.”

The guards from the Imperial Guard conducted checks on me, Camila, and Francesca. For the safety of the Duke, it was necessary to confirm the identity and belongings of visitors meeting her.

It was a reasonable and rational request, so there was no need to refuse.

I turned my gaze to observe the expressions of my companions.

“Hm….”

Francesca wore a blank expression. To be precise, her face was quite detached.

Even though we were on our way to meet the great Archmage, whom every magician dreams of encountering, Francesca didn’t show a hint of emotion.

Should I say she appeared unimpressed?

Francesca remained passive, merely observing the architecture of the Cathedral without showing concern whether they conducted the check or not.

It seemed she was taking the situation in stride, perhaps due to her lineage as an Archmage descendant.

“…Hmm?”

As she gazed upward at a massive painting depicting an angel on the ceiling, Francesca suddenly locked eyes with me.

After a few blinks, she gently pulled up the corners of her mouth and smiled at me. It was a captivating smile.

Francesca was calmly and peacefully accepting the situation. Neither excitement nor anxiety could be found in her demeanor. It was simply a laid-back attitude of “Since I’ve been called, let’s just see her face.”

In stark contrast, Camila…

“Do you think the Duke has any particular reason for summoning us?”

Surprisingly, she was entirely composed.

Camila displayed a level of normalcy I had never witnessed in any moment before.

Her calm tone and gentle inquiries reminded me of a serene lake. I couldn’t believe this was the same Camila I knew.

It felt like I was watching a little girl who had just turned a new leaf. I wondered if she had received some enlightenment without me noticing.

Our little girl had changed.

“I have no idea,” I replied.

“Didn’t she say anything in particular?”

The Duke’s secretary nodded.

“No, there were no special words left for you.”

Camila accepted this without much thought.

Just after the guards finished a brief inspection, she quickly approached me and began to whisper. She lowered her voice cautiously so that others wouldn’t hear.

“I wonder what she wants with us?”

“I wish I knew…”

While questioned, I couldn’t come up with a fitting answer.

I’m not a magician. No, even if I were a magician, very few could provide answers to Camila’s inquiries. The Duke wasn’t a typical mage.

Shrimp do not know the life of whales, and wolves cannot learn the hunting methods of tigers.

No matter how skilled a magician might be, before the Duke, they would just be an ordinary person fortunate enough to escape a turbulent time.

“Could it be, as previously mentioned, that she wishes to form a connection with us?”

“To learn about magic? I know nothing to teach. You must at least know something to be taught. With no foundational knowledge, how could I possibly learn?”

“But Camila, you’re smart. You also love magic.”

With an intellect sharp enough to reach the doorsteps of world-renowned Cambridge, coupled with a deep curiosity about magic. Curiosity doesn’t always translate into academic zeal, yet Camila had talent.

Even without receiving any formal education, she could handle fire as naturally as breathing.

Carefully extinguishing the iron-like wood hardened by the high magic density pouring out from a rift over centuries.

And possessing talents that even elite combat magicians found daunting, like burning nearly half of the mountainous region of Naroda.

Though she might not realize the magnitude of her capabilities yet, with such talents, there was no way she would starve wherever she went. Francesca, who also had expertise in alchemy and several other magical fields, was of a similar standing.

While I might not be as adept as my younger sister, who has been lazing around in her room (she’s recently found a job), Camila was certainly capable enough to learn magic without any issues.

I had no way of knowing if the Duke genuinely wished to take Camila as a disciple, but that was the only explanation I could think of.

“First of all, that’s the most credible reason. Francesca also shares that suspicion.”

“Fine. But why did the Duke call you and Francesca as well?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. If her goal was to take me as a disciple, she could’ve called me alone, right? Don’t you think?”

“…….”

Listening to that, it made sense.

If the Duke’s objective was to take Camila as a pupil, she wouldn’t need to summon me and Francesca to accompany her. She could quietly discuss it with just Camila. There would be no need to involve outsiders, particularly civil servants working for a foreign government.

Even if I were to concede that Francesca, as a staff member of the Magic Tower Secretariat, could have been included, Francesca is a magician and a descendant of Archmage ‘Ranieri.’ Perhaps she wished to see the granddaughter of an old comrade.

The real problem lay with me.

Agencies like the Imperial Guard HQ and the Empire Information Agency have been cautious, suspecting I might be a military intelligence agent. The day I entered the Empire, the Guard had placed their mark on me as evidence.

While they probably didn’t have concrete evidence of my status, marking me imples that there was at least a reasonable suspicion. Therefore, throughout my stay in the northern part of the Empire, I had kept a low profile. Getting caught in the surveillance of counterintelligence units in a martial law zone wouldn’t allow for a smooth return.

Fortunately, there hadn’t been any major issues, but documents regarding me must still exist somewhere in the appropriate agencies. Once you’re added to an intelligence agency’s watch list, getting rid of it isn’t possible. It would likely follow me and be an enduring constant in my life.

The question remained as to why the Duke had summoned me.

“……”

Normally, intelligence agencies share information with specific related departments.

In most cases, this isn’t so much ‘sharing’ as it is an unidirectional ‘distribution,’ but the fact holds that information produced by the intelligence agencies is indeed shared.

Police, prosecution, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Home Affairs, Ministry of Trade, Science and Technology Ministry, Ministry of Defense, Office of the Prime Minister, Blue House Secretariat, Presidential Security Service, etc.

The National Intelligence Service sends formal letters to each ministry every day. The Imperial Guard HQ probably employs a similar method of information-sharing. And the Emperor’s elite, the Imperial Guard, would also receive reports from the Imperial Guard HQ.

But why didn’t the Guard prevent a meeting between a figure suspected of being a foreign spy and the Duke?

And what kind of thought led the Duke to call me?

Could it be that the Intelligence Agency refrained from distributing information because there was no evidence tying me to espionage? Or did the Guards disregard any information they received?

Any theory I could propose didn’t sit well with me.

“Hmmm…. There are indeed suspicious elements to consider.”

“Right?”

I pondered deeply, yet a clear answer didn’t surface.

But there was no need to fret.

Perhaps I would soon hear that answer.

The guards—who had maintained a steady stance—began to stir into action. The suit-clad attendants adjusted their earpieces and scattered to their respective positions as if it were part of a coordinated routine.

The Duke’s secretary, observing the scene with familiarity, spoke.

“Please, come in.”

At that moment, she cautiously opened the door and politely announced.

“His Highness is waiting for you.”

We entered the room, following the secretary’s lead.

The room didn’t seem like a space where a magician would reside. However, it also didn’t appear to be set up for a priest.

A weathered wood and a sacred aura emanating from stark white stone walls filled the space.

Seemingly cut from time with a knife, a woman who opted to dwell in a realm as if time had paused was seated.

With mystical silver hair.
Glistening blue eyes like precious gems.

“You’ve come.”

Her soft voice shook the space.

The grand mage, who had remained silently sitting like a statue, rose as she spoke. With every slow movement, remnants of time glided invisibly around her.

Like orbiting satellites, celestial tomes flew and nestled into the Duke’s grasp. The mage, who had ruled an era, seemed to have transcended the flow of time.

At that instant, a change washed over the Duke’s expression.

And simultaneously, flowers bloomed in the dull field.

“I’ve been waiting.”

The name of the flower was laughter.

*

The first meeting with the Duke unfolded in a remarkably gentle atmosphere.

“I have been waiting for you. Come, sit.”

With the subtle glow and the charm of the stone building, the Duke extended her hand toward the prepared seating.

Whether through magic or other means, once she waved her hand, three chairs began to move on their own.

“Please, take a seat.”

It was a quite dignified invitation, yet one that was hard to accept lightly.

The Duke hadn’t made any unreasonable assertions; the discomfort arose from the situation itself.

“Uhm….”

Camila, seated across from the Duke, was surprisingly fidgety, rolling her eyes. Her hazel gaze, tinged with bewilderment, drifted around before settling on me.

Though she didn’t speak, it was easy to grasp her unspoken question.

“What do we do now?”

That was what Camila was asking.

In response, I quietly smiled, giving her a reassuring look.

“How would I know?”

Even though I was older than my peers, I was nowhere near the Duke, who had lived for a century.

Even my grandmother, having lived with my grandfather, who was a former agency investigator and had seen all kinds of adversities, found her mother-in-law to be a daunting challenge. The age of the person standing next to me was no different than my great-grandmother.

In Eastern terms, she is roughly equivalent to someone who bore witness during the Qing Dynasty’s fall at a time when Western powers were shattering the nation, while in the West, she would be a relic who experienced the Fashoda Incident and World War I.

As for the gap in age, it becomes burdensome. In any case, the age difference of over a century places a strain on conversation. Even career diplomats in their fifties would have difficulty approaching such a divide.

So, how much more so with Camila, who has just barely passed twenty?

“Haha….”

Be it Dumbledore or Gandalf, Camila began to show confusion, imagining the ‘sage-like mage’ she had seen in movies.

In a very minimal tone, she muttered softly.

“Is she really the Duke? I heard she’s a bit… aged.”

“That’s correct.”

“She looks so young!”

“Yes.”

She wore an expression of utter disbelief.

As Camila kept her breath held, she marveled at the Duke’s youthful appearance that defied time.

“Is she Benjamin Button? Does time run backward or something?”

“Oh, that movie is a masterpiece. I cried while watching it.”

We quickly whispered to one another, but nothing was changing.

Camila gazed upon the Duke, who was in stark contrast to her imagined portrayal of an elderly mage.

The Duke observed Camila, raising an eyebrow as if confused.

“Is there a problem?”

“N-no, there’s nothing wrong…”

“It seems you find me quite different from your expectations.”

“N-no… yes?”

The mystical silver hair cascaded down as a pair of sapphire-colored eyes twinkled between long lashes.

“Everyone who meets me for the first time tends to be surprised. The way I appear differs greatly from their imagined version.”

“Ah…”

“The red-haired child. What image did you conjure up when you thought of me?”

The Duke posed the question as if granting convenience. Considering the weight of the inquiry, it was likely an effort to alleviate the serious atmosphere.

Camila appeared to grasp this too. She was the most perceptive person, after all. She candidly recounted her thoughts.

An elderly wizard with a mane of white hair. Stumbling through the muddled response, Camila’s description painted an image reminiscent of the wise old wizards from fairy tales.

To be exact, she could be Gandalf or Dumbledore. Or perhaps Sirius. Given how much Camila adored Harry Potter, she probably compared the Duke’s ability to transform into a cat with Sirius himself.

Wait, hold on. Is the cat version McGonagall?

I must be getting old; my memory’s getting fuzzy.

That’s when it happened.

A voice broke through my thoughts.

“Grandmother.”

The juxtaposition of such a succinct term in that atmosphere snapped my senses back into place.

Grandmother?

The only person who could be addressed so in this room was, without a doubt, the Duke of the Kien Empire, Alexandra Petrovna.

Having lived beyond a century, it isn’t exactly strange to hear her be called “grandmother.” In fact, foreign media often poked fun at political follies related to the Magic Tower, asking, “Where is the Empire’s grandmother?”

However, no politician, diplomat, or journalist would ever dare to directly refer to the Duke as “grandmother.” To be precise, anyone with a sense of propriety would refrain from such boldness.

If that’s the case, why would anyone call the Emperor “grandfather”?

In a class-driven society like South Korea, even a delinquent elementary school student wouldn’t address the president as “grandfather.” Perhaps they might say “President-grandfather.”

But who had the gall to address the Duke as “grandmother?”

In a state of confusion, I quickly sought the culprit who’d uttered such madness. I could easily find my culprit by simply turning my head slightly.

I met eyes with Camila, who was also turning her head. I was facing left, while she was facing right. In between us stood just one individual.

Francesca.

“……”

I observed Francesca with a stoic expression as she stared at the Duke.

In that moment, she parted her pink lips and uttered in a beautiful voice.

“Why did you call us?”

A question almost bordering on disrespect.

Hearing that made me think it’d be a good idea to slap Francesca.