A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“Don’t you need a shaman?”

Suddenly, the shaman from the Mauritania continent made that suggestion to me.

“A shaman?”

I tilted my head in confusion.

The woman spoke. “I’m the shaman. Employed by Hassan.”

Hearing those words, I slowly scrutinized her face and finally recognized her identity. She was the same woman who brewed coffee for Nayan Al Bas when I first met him. At that time, her face was hidden by a cloak, but seeing her nose and lips made me suddenly remember.

“Oh, you were with the Al Bas chieftain back then?”

“You remember me.”

“I really enjoyed the coffee. Thanks to you, it was delicious.”

The shaman waved her hand as if to dismiss the compliment. I smiled quietly and began to think.

Why was the shaman suddenly approaching me?

I had two major speculations.

First, the shaman might be showing interest in a foreigner and came closer.

Second, “Can we talk for a moment?” She might be seeking the aid of someone.

—

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

The shaman of the Hassan Warlord guided me to a nearby café. It was a common café that sold traditional snacks from the Mauritania continent.

The aroma of fragrant tea leaves wafted through the air. I took a moment to enjoy the rich scent.

“You said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes.”

The shaman smiled brightly.

“To be precise, I have a proposal for you.”

“For me?”

With her head tucked under her robe, she nodded vigorously.

Since it was a proposal from a shaman, I had a general idea of her intentions, but I was also curious. It was my first time chatting with a shaman, and above all, this person had approached me as a shaman for a warlord.

In this place, magicians and shamans are broadly categorized into two groups.

On one side, there are those who found employment by showcasing their inherent talents and impressive skills. Typically, those who belong to foreign companies or large corporations fall into this category. Some even emigrated, but the Mauritania continent is the birthplace of primitive sorcery, with a notable ivory tower, so many wizards and shamans entered the ivory tower for training.

On the other hand, some sought positions outside corporations. They knocked on the doors of government forces, warlords, or criminal organizations. Most of those lacking connections to get jobs or insufficiently skilled to immigrate opted for this route.

However, just because they joined a government force or warlord didn’t mean their lives plunged into despair. Unlike developed countries where combat magicians are systematically trained, the military in the Mauritania continent welcomed even mediocre wizards and shamans with open arms.

They often joined warlords or criminal groups.

Some built their reputation there and shifted to private security companies serving foreign deployments or affluent individuals. People referred to them as mercenaries, security contractors, freelancers, or adventurers.

The shaman who approached me undoubtedly belonged to the latter category.

She was employed by the Al Bas tribe, a subsidiary tribe of Hassan’s warlord.

It was clear why such a shaman approached a war correspondent.

“Do you need protection?”

The shaman confidently offered her proposal. She was suggesting I hire her as my bodyguard.

“Protection? Hmm. Bodyguard….”

I took a sip of tea and pondered the real reason this woman approached me.

“Why do you suddenly make such an offer?”

“Because of money.”

The shaman introduced herself as a foreign journalist.

“My name is Fatima. I’ve been working for Hassan for four years now. I mostly help the Al Bas tribe’s affairs, but I’m also assisting Hassan.”

Fatima. So, this shaman laid out her circumstances.

The scenario I anticipated came out of her mouth.

“Hassan hired me, but the pay isn’t good. The treatment is similar.”

“Do you feel you’ve been treated unfairly?”

“Not unjustly, but it’s a bit disappointing.”

Fatima complained about the salary and treatment she received from Hassan’s warlord.

“In this country, wizards and shamans whose skills haven’t been validated earn an average of 1.8 million. I’m getting 2 million from Hassan.”

1.8 million? The calculations in my head began to whirl.

Currently, a regular worker earns about 200,000 monthly in the country where I’m active. That means the average monthly income for laborers. Workers in border areas make three times that, around 600,000. The salary paid to beginner magicians and shamans by warlords is significantly higher by threefold, reaching 1.8 million.

Magicians in a warlord’s service can earn more in just two months than a regular worker’s yearly salary.

Of course, compared to the salaries affluent countries like the Kien Empire or the Kingdom of Abas offer, it’s a meager amount.

At the exchange rate, warlord magicians earn even less than my sister Ayla, who is employed at a trading company. It’s likely she’ll earn several years’ worth of a warlord magician’s salary in just six months.

I set down the teacup and slowly opened my mouth.

“You earn three times more than a border worker. Is that not enough?”

“Far from it.”

Fatima smiled weakly and raised her hands in a gesture of emptiness, signaling she was broke.

“So, you’re looking for security jobs?”

“Foreigners tend to spend quite a bit. I once had a job protecting a foreign correspondent. It wasn’t personal protection but rather securing a lodging company, but it paid quite well.”

“Better than working for Hassan now?”

The shaman nodded her head up and down.

Finding it peculiar that a warlord shaman could earn more securing accommodations for foreign correspondents than her current pay, I began to question how this local labor market operated.

“Anyway, I appreciate your explanation.”

I lit a cigarette while contemplating Fatima’s proposal.

For now, it was impossible to hire her as my guard.

Although war correspondents usually carry local guides and bodyguards, my identity remained that of an information officer.

Hiring a guard without the company’s consent was not feasible. Information agencies prefer to minimize contact with civilians, so it’s against policy for employees to hire bodyguards, interpreters, drivers, or even housekeepers without permission.

Of course, from the perspective of the information agency, there was no reason for me to employ a civilian. In a situation where even the neighbor next door is suspect, would it make sense to hire a foreign local?

In this regard, I was more concerned about whether the shaman possessed value as an ‘information agent’ rather than as a ‘bodyguard.’

The answers to my contemplation came quite quickly.

“I’m sorry.”

I flicked the ashes from my cigarette, making my rejection clear.

Once the contract fell through, the shaman displayed her displeasure openly. Fatima leaned forward, her voice turning menacing as she began asking for explanations.

“…Why?”

I remained silent, staring at the ceiling.

Then I explained the reasons I couldn’t accept her as both a bodyguard and as an information agent.

“Don’t you worship money?”

“Hah!”

A snort of disbelief escaped Fatima, and she shot a sharp glare at me.

Of course, there were reasons for rejecting her proposal.

First, her personality was an issue.

Those who worship money are ideal targets for information agents to bribe, but if they worship it too blatantly, they can’t be easily turned. Their cooperation often hinges on monetary gain.

Someone bought with money could betray at any moment. If someone offers more money, they’re ready to backstab.

Moreover, aside from complicated reasons, keeping someone who is obviously driven by money close is never wise. People who are overly focused on cash are often morally questionable. And in the third world, those obsessed with money are rarely anything but fools or scammers.

I asked the shaman.

“When does your contract with Hassan end?”

“Why do you ask when you don’t plan to hire me?”

“Just let me hear it.”

“June of next year. The contract ends then.”

That means she still had almost a year left on her contract.

Yet, with a year to go, she sought out a new employer for financial gain.

Just from that, it was evident how risky it would be to hire her.

“For a contract to succeed, trust is crucial. How is it acceptable to look for new jobs without serving your current one?”

That wasn’t the only issue.

Due to the nature of warlords, shamans are significant assets. Just by seeing how they consistently pay three times the salary of border workers, it was clear.

But could a foreigner take such an asset along? There would be no way Hassan would look kindly upon it.

For the sake of my relationship with the warlord and the safety of both Camila and me, I resolved to keep a distance from the shaman.

So I declined.

“You still have a contract with Hassan, and you are an important asset to him. You know that, right?”

“What of that? I’m not satisfied.”

“If you aren’t satisfied with your conditions, you should go to your employer. Why are you bothering a foreigner right now? Besides, I already have a bodyguard.”

I provided a plausible reason for my refusal, but Fatima’s unease showed no sign of changing.

She glared at me with evident annoyance, her expression cold as she scrutinized me.

“Oh, that magician girl? She wasn’t any good?”

“What are you on about?”

“Warlord folks say she abandoned a reporter. Left her weapon behind and bolted while the reporter had to escape from a robber’s attack?”

Damn it. That rumor must’ve already spread far and wide.

Those warlord idiots seemed to have no concept of keeping their mouths shut. Of course, the incident had occurred before Nasir had taken an interest in me, so there’d been no reason or time to contain that information.

I gestured towards the shaman with a displeased expression.

“That’s something I can handle on my own. It’s none of your concern.”

“I bet if you keep that kind of half-assed bodyguard around, you’ll end up found dead in the desert. Consider this advice.”

“Let’s consider that advice, as something I haven’t heard. Okay?”

There was no need to continue the conversation. I began to gather my things and leave.

The problem is that the shaman wouldn’t stop talking.

Fatima showered me with incessant curses as I turned to leave the café.

“I’m genuinely worrying about you.”

“Oh, yes. You sure are.”

“You might think your life doesn’t matter, but what about that magician? Does she think the same?”

As I reached for the doorknob, I suddenly froze.

In the mirror by the entrance, the shaman was still sitting and smiling at me. It was a sneer.

Confirming with the mirror, I hurled a teacup that was decorated on the shelf at her.

Crash! The cup shattered, scattering fragments all around. With the breaking sound, a chilling silence followed. Guests who had been enjoying their drinks and the staff with steaming snacks all gave surprised looks in our direction.

I stepped on the pottery shards as I approached the shaman. Putting my hand on my waist, I said, “One more word out of you, and I’ll split your face.”

“…”

The shaman’s gaze moved not to my face but my waist. My jacket’s handle protruded subtly, hinting at the grip of a greatsword.

Of course, at an angle invisible to everyone else, so it posed no problem.

“Waiter.”

“…Uh, yes!”

“Here’s for the cleanup and the teacup. And this is a tip. I apologize for causing a fuss.”

“Oh, it’s nothing!”

I handed a wad of cash to the local boy and exited the café.

What a ridiculous day in this ridiculous country.

—

Though there had been a little commotion with the warlord’s shaman, fortunately, the warlord didn’t penalize me.

Perhaps the moment I nearly had a teacup hurled at me had left the shaman quite embarrassed, causing her to shut her mouth.

In a place where honor is highly regarded, dishonorable actions come with social responsibility. The source of this uproar was Fatima’s reckless attempt at breaking the contract, so if the truth came out, she could face serious consequences.

Fortunately, I spent my time without any major issues. I gathered intelligence, analyzed it, and checked the data from the headquarters and operations team.

The work of an information officer was gradually getting into the groove, but my utmost focus wasn’t on preparing the operation; it was on arms trading.

“Yes, I’ve confirmed the shipment of the fourth batch.”

The weapon smuggling I began as a side job experienced a surge.

Initially, it started with arms seized by neighboring country’s army from rebels, stored in a deserted warehouse.

Then there were supplies being utilized by the active government army.

“500 automatic rifles, 22 machine guns, grenades, and ammo. Perfect.”

“The guns made by dwarves are certainly a hundred times better than the originals made by the Empire. We produce these ourselves.”

“Of course. Home-grown is always better than foreign. We’re both boosting industry and making money. That’s how capital works.”

Corrupt government military officers began getting involved with weaponry. For me, the payment for weapon trading was paltry, but for them, it represented a windfall equivalent to a couple years’ worth of salary.

As the transactions continued, people intoxicated by profits swiftly multiplied. Pippin provided a sharp critique of this phenomenon.

“Mauritania continent is suffering from an epidemic.”

This “epidemic” referred to capitalism.

With the introduction of capitalism and an infinitely competitive market, numerous offers poured in. From company commanders to division heads, senior officers, and even generals made proposals.

“I’ve heard your business acumen is extraordinary.”

“Oh no, not at all! I’m just making pocket change with a decent sum of money, Commander.”

“What is this business of yours? Care to share?”

I made contact with the local commander adjacent to Hassan’s territory.

He subtly proposed arms trading, and I welcomed it with open arms.

“You’ve come at just the right time! May I take a look at the goods before we discuss business?”

The regular army’s weapon storage was a veritable treasure trove.

There were not just rifles and machine guns, but also field artillery responsible for supporting lower-tier troops, tanks, and armored vehicles ready for action with just a bit of fuel.

I inspected the weapons depot with the local commander.

“How many rifles do you have?”

“About 30,000, I reckon.”

“30,000? To my eyes, it looks barely 20,000.”

“We can order more rifles from the factory.”

“Great, that’s very good. I’ll pay you 2 million as a down payment for the stuff currently in your storage. The remaining amount can follow in a later shipment.”

The local commander siphoned weapons from the troops he commanded and sold them to the arms merchant. I gave him not only the transaction payment but also a significant bribe.

“What is this for?”

“Just a small gesture of goodwill for the commander.”

“A goodwill gesture? That’s a lot.”

“Ah…Just keep it for yourself. I heard your son got into college, so you must need a considerable sum for tuition and other expenses.”

“……”

The gentle coercion worked wonders.

By promising the local commander ‘taxes,’ I effectively made his mouth zip. Such money doesn’t just drop from the sky, and I was thoroughly informed of his family affairs.

Having pocketed the bribe, the local commander kept his promise.

He provided everything from freshly manufactured guns and ammunition to regular supplies for maintenance, even offering that the local soldiers would handle oversight.

The pinnacle of outstanding service was the soldiers’ escort. The local commander ordered his men to provide convoy protection for the weapons being exported to Hassan’s warlord.

He introduced this as a safeguard against thieves and local authorities.

“Nothing is more important than human lives. In a region plagued by rebels, vehicles can become targets at any moment.”

“Oh, so you are providing protection because you care about people’s safety…?”

“Exactly.”

Pure nonsense.

How could a corrupt general selling military supplies care about the lives of any warlord, especially a foreign one? The local commander’s escort was merely a precaution against losing weapons should they be stolen.

Of course, I accepted his kindness with gratitude.

“Thank you for your honorable decision, Commander.”

Weapons bought from corrupt government military officials were conveyed across the border to Hassan’s warlord.

The warlord commandeered vehicles for transporting livestock to carry arms.

“Faster, faster!”

“We need to return before sundown! Hurry up!”

As the warlord’s soldiers loaded weapons into the trucks, the warlord officer slipped cash to the drivers. That was the daily wage provided by the warlord.

Seeing the money, the drivers quickly loaded the arms without comment. In the meantime, I pointed out smuggling routes for the warlord’s associates over the sparsely vegetated desert.

“You should move it to checkpoint 3 on the northeastern border. This area has a wide perimeter, so the defenses are relatively lax. The road is maintained well enough for transport, and in case of an emergency, you can flee with the goods.”

“Are you certain this is a safe route?”

“Of course. I’ve already bribed the officials.”

The bribed ones weren’t just from the neighboring country’s government’s military. Officials from the country where Hassan’s warlord operates were also receiving their shares.

I tirelessly sought the most secure and thorough methods to ensure the trading of arms was successful. And those efforts began to yield results.

A force completely equipped with modern weaponry formed from Hassan’s warlord. While observing the pomp of the troops, I conversed with the leader of Hassan, Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.

“This brigade is fully equipped with modern weapons. What do you think?”

“Hmm….”

Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan gazed at his brigade with his hands behind his back. Though he didn’t express it much, I could see a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“It’s perfect.”

“Today it’s one brigade, but by tomorrow, two companies will have completed their armament. Within next week, the brigade will be fully armed with weaponry superior to that of the government army.”

“Your abilities exceed expectations.”

Nasir considered this transaction with immense satisfaction. And so did I.

As the deals accelerated, the quantities began incrementally to increase. While the first deal only involved some trucks, now more than ten trucks were bustling across the border.

Thus, I sought new smuggling routes through intelligence I had recently recruited.

“Oh, Commander! Long time no see! Have you been well? By the way, regarding the information about the checkpoint we previously discussed, I was hoping you could check on other areas as well.”

The informants I had slipped into the government military leveraged their connections, helping me secure classified information.

While the commander worked earnestly, I couldn’t neglect the relevance of our military intelligence agency’s support.

“Hello, Director Leoni. I just sent off the 9th batch of supplies. I need aerial photographs of the border region, could you send them over?”

“Oh, you’re the commander responsible for the rebuilding project, right? I’ve heard plenty from the seniors. By the way, could I ask a favor?…”

“Oh, right. I’ve reviewed the forged documents. Thank you for your assistance. Please be mindful not to let the counterintelligence agency catch wind of this.”

The military intelligence agency across the sea was utilizing its various intelligence assets to support my business.

Aerial reconnaissance capabilities, intelligence officers from deployment forces, and experts affiliated with the agency branches. Of course, the operations team comprising Pippin, Jake, Charnoy, and my subordinates, Matt, Bill, and Larry was not exempted.

“Matt? Are you available to talk right now?”

-‘Meow.’

“Wow, you scared me. Kair? Is that you?”

-‘Is it?’

“I contacted you about the equipment I requested last time. Could you speak with the team leader there to find out the progress? Can you pass the word to Matt?”

-‘Meow!’

The operations team continued to supply me with ongoing intelligence.

Unexpectedly, Larry, the senior analyst for the royal intelligence agency, was of immense help. His information was astute and precise.

He assessed the scale of arms crossing the border and forecasted that Hassan’s warlord would complete the arming of its main force with modern weaponry in the coming months.

-‘Hassan’s forces are well-trained, but they lack weapons. In fact, the shortage of arms is a chronic issue for warlords in this area. It’s likely that Hassan will undertake a large-scale military restructuring through this deal. The officer corps will change, and so will the weaponry.’

“Did we estimate a timeline of six months for the complete arming?”

-‘Right. But just because Hassan receives the weapons doesn’t mean he can utilize them effectively right away. He’ll need to train and adapt doctrines to the new arms. Not to mention, maintenance will be an issue. If parts supply ceases, the weapons would mostly turn to scrap metal.’

I agreed with that analysis.

In reality, after the US military withdrew from Afghanistan, the Taliban government seized a wealth of US military equipment. However, due to issues with maintenance, education, and parts supply, they began tossing the arms into storage within less than a year.

Though Hassan’s warlord and the Taliban were not in precisely the same situation, it would take Hassan’s warlord quite some time to adapt to and effectively use the weapons allotted to him.

Put simply, time was on our side.

-‘On the condition of weapons and parts supply, maintenance, and training, we can proceed with the new negotiations. Since you are familiar with the Kien Empire’s weapons system, you’re welcome to send maintenance personnel. Alternatively, we could arrange for military advisory missions via the Ministry of Defense.’

“I’ll discuss it with the director. But you know, if the assembly opposes, then it’s all over.”

-‘I know, trust me.’

A sound like a staff hitting the ground came through the radio following the senior analyst from the royal intelligence agency.

-‘But remember, smuggling arms should remain within the bounds of currying favor with the warlords. If your tail gets too long, the Empire might come to chase you down.’

“Don’t worry.”

I took a drag on my cigarette and answered briefly.

“I’ll wrap things up and disappear before the Empire catches on.”

The arms trade sailed smoothly like a ship with favorable winds.

But as it often goes in the world, disasters arise abruptly.

—

On my return to Hassan’s territory, I enjoyed the open winds while riding in a truck across the wilderness. The sandy, mixed winds flowing through the open window gently brushed my hair while I leisurely smoked.

Suddenly, a warlord officer spoke up.

“Excuse me, sir.”

“What is it?”

“It seems there might be a problem.”

Following the gesture of the warlord officer, I turned my gaze.

There, pointed out by his finger, was a previously unseen government military checkpoint.

With the declaration of martial law stirring the political waters, they must have increased the checkpoints. Confirming the unexpected checkpoint’s location, I recorded the coordinates and began to relay the situation via the radio.

“Stop!”

On the cue of the government officer’s hand signals, the trucks from the warlord came to a halt.

The dozen or so trucks were gazed upon with curiosity. I drummed my fingers rhythmically on the window frame, exhaled smoke, and grinned.

“Hello! Thank you for your hard work.”

“We’ll need to conduct a quick inspection. Your cooperation is appreciated.”

An officer with a rank insignia of lieutenant approached to announce the inspection. A bothersome event, but this was something I could tolerate.

Naturally, I handed the officer the documents. He received the papers and began flipping through them while reading.

“These are customs documents. Have you paid the duty?”

“Of course. One must pay their taxes properly.”

“Strange. According to these documents, you brought in electronics, but these…”

The officer’s expression turned bewildered as he scanned the line of trucks. The lined-up trucks amounted to more than fifteen in total.

Perhaps sensing something was off, the officer’s expression shifted. He returned the documents to me and told me to assist in the vehicle search.

“I need to check inside. Please open the cargo.”

“Ah, hold on. I forgot to show you the log. Oops, here it is.”

The clipboard I had on the ground was passed to the lieutenant. It contained a checklist of the items in the cargo area.

Printed on the aged paper were lists of electronic items—a refrigerator, microwave, magic energy charger, and so forth.

The lieutenant looked at the document with a puzzled expression, but suddenly, while turning the pages, his hand halted abruptly.

“……”

Stuck between the papers was a stiff thick wad of cash. A 5,000-taqron bundle containing 50 hundred-taqron bills.

Once the lieutenant checked the bribe tucked into the clipboard, his expression morphed into a blank stare directed towards me. He disdainfully tossed the clipboard inside my window, resting his hand on the gun holstered at his hip as he spoke in a cold voice.

“Get out.”

“……”

“Everyone out!”

On the lieutenant’s harsh command, the soldiers began to mobilize.

Armed with Kien Empire automatic rifles, the soldiers approached the trucks hesitantly.

Witnessing the scene, the driver drenched in cold sweat tightened his grip on the wheel, and the warlord’s lookout’s expression shifted to tension as he moved his hand towards the automatic rifle resting next to the gearshift.

I raised my hands calmly, exiting the passenger seat with a relaxed demeanor. My smile remained intact.

To the officials and soldiers who had gathered out of curiosity, I surveyed the armed trucks and then addressed the lieutenant.

“See?”

“……”

“Since you want to see it, you should. Follow me over here.”

I led the apprehensive-looking young officer to the cargo bay. Then as I pulled back the dusty tarp, I revealed the contents.

The truck was packed with an enormous quantity of weapons and ammunition.

The lieutenant’s eyes widened in shock as he shouted, “Weapons!”

At that shout, government soldiers began charging out.

As soon as the government troops reacted, the warlord forces joined in. The soldiers of Hassan’s warlord, ditching their bolt-action rifles for automatic weapons, jumped from the trucks, pointing their guns at the government forces.

With Kien Empire automatic rifles aimed at both sides, the lieutenant readied his drawn pistol at me.

I looked around the desolate desert checkpoint surrounding us. I turned my gaze to the lieutenant aiming at me.

The lieutenant declared, “I am arresting you for arms smuggling.”

“…Arrest?”

I chuckled softly.

Smiling brightly, I looked up and gestured to the weapons in the truck.

“Feel free to take them all. Even the taxes I gave earlier.”

“For bribery, if you don’t want to rot in jail, keep quiet.”

The lieutenant coldly warned me, with soldiers armed to the teeth aiming their weapons at me.

“No, no. This isn’t a gift for you.”

“What?”

“Aisha. Your daughter.”

I smiled at him warmly.

“Isn’t she entering the academy soon? Was it the magic department? What a lucky girl. Lucky indeed. With all the magicians in your family.”

“……”

“For her entrance gift, wouldn’t a new broomstick be appreciated?”

The lieutenant, frozen stiff, remained silent. My attention shifted as I scanned the other soldiers.

The first to catch my sight was a very small man.

Though it was my first time seeing him, I called out his name with a surprisingly familiar tone.

“Abdul! How’s Saeed doing? I heard he won the football tournament. He tore through the defenders to shake the net, showing impressive skills. I heard he’s dating the cheerleader too?”

The small man didn’t say a word, his eyes cast down. I stepped closer, gazing at him curiously, but he didn’t meet my gaze.

The next was a stoic-looking man. A towering fellow whose build suggested he was quite athletic.

“That would be Youssef. I heard Amatulah is pregnant. Is it three months? Oh, the timing is just perfect. They say classical music is excellent for prenatal care, what do you think? Maybe you could buy a gramophone from the ivory tower on your next leave?”

I casually chatted with the muscled soldier.

In the hushed silence, I could distinctly hear the sound of gulping, someone nervously swallowing.

The heavy silence wrapped around me as I became the center of attention for the soldiers. I scanned their faces, taking in the checkpoint with a gaze.

“You’re all in prime age. Some have girlfriends, others are married, yet the superiors still remain single, creating quite a dilemma for their fathers, I can imagine. I get it—being over thirty without bringing a woman home must be troubling.”

“……”

“You’ve got to take care of yourselves if you want to date. These days, not every girl will just entertain any man, you know? You need to wear nice clothes, use good perfume to leave an impression. That way, you could introduce a bride to your sick father lying on his sickbed.”

As I spoke casually, I locked eyes with the lieutenant.

The firearm aiming at me had slowly dropped, now pointing nearly to the ground.

“Before it’s too late.”

I lowered the lieutenant’s gun. My touch didn’t apply any force, yet the barrel sank down without a struggle.

Once I lowered the firearm, I placed my hands on my waist and began addressing the soldiers.

“Everyone.”

“……”

“It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, be it inside the base or outside. I will always be aware of everything you do. The same goes for your families.”

Saying that, I added as a foreigner.

“I can help you live in paradise, or I can make you live in living hell. So, let’s decide right here and now.”

I gestured with my open palms to the ground beneath.

The soldiers’ stares shifted towards me.

At that moment, my mouth opened, delivering an age-old wisdom that had once graced the streets of Bolivia.

“Do you prefer silver?”

“Or do you prefer lead?”

The warlord’s soldiers stepped forward toward the government troops.

The lieutenant’s lips trembled before finally opening.

Decisions were made swiftly, and the choices were wise.

—

The international weapons trade proceeded flawlessly.

As we procured goods from foreign governmental and United Nations troops to hand over to Hassan’s warlord, he equipped all his subordinate units with modern weaponry.

In a few months, the warlord would be able to overpower other warlords and challenge even the mechanized units at the forefront of the government forces.

The success of this endeavor owed much to the informants embedded within the government.

Civil servants provided personal information regarding the familial ties of the personnel at the border checkpoints, and the police information department head mobilized his sources to grasp the situation of streets and rival warlords.

The most pivotal assistance came from within the military. The lieutenant I had previously recruited, poised on the brink of promotion, greatly contributed.

He willingly shared invaluable military secrets—deployment schemes, troop placements, and the identities and schedule changes of the commanders responsible for the checkpoints.

I expressed my gratitude to him.

“Yes, commander. You’ve really worked hard this time. Thanks to your efforts, everything went smoothly. I’ve sent you a gift, so take a look when you find time. I believe you will enjoy it.”

The arms trade was strictly conducted in favor of Hassan’s warlord.

As long as the military intelligence agency collected the weapons, I sold them off for the lowest possible prices. I was losing money on these sales, but the situation posed no real issues. The Abas Parliament immensely supported me with active funding.

This essentially meant that the party reaping the greatest profits from this endeavor was the Abas government. With a paltry stipend (which would anger taxpayers) they managed to curry favor with one of the largest warlords in Mauritania.

Now, the only thing left was to deal with Asen and Sanya.

If gambling with other people’s money is the most thrilling game, then what about conducting fireworks with taxpayer money? Honestly, I believed it would prove to be a spectacular event.

Sharing such thoughts led the expression of the British intellectual to sour.

“…What kind of metaphor is that? Fireworks? Warlords fighting is hardly a celebratory event.”

“Who knows. That’s entirely my perspective.”

“From what perspective could you possibly reach that conclusion?”

With the inquisitive face of Camila before me, I boldly proclaimed.

“Because it’s far better for the British army to drop bombs on civilian heads in the Middle East than to have warlords clash amongst themselves. It’s a whole lot better than sending troops under the pretense of enlightening African savages.”

“Oh, come on!”

“I’m joking, it’s a joke. Just chill out already and tidy up.”

After playfully teasing Camila for a while, I started preparing the next stage of the operation.

-‘Have you heard from Kair? He says he needs help?’

“Oh, Matt, you’ve contacted me just at the right time.”

I established communication with Matt, the operations head of the royal intelligence agency.

Mauritania, being a continent filled with mysteries, struggled with smooth communications. Occasionally, a sandstorm would pass by randomly hitting the communication lines, or magic waves would bounce back and cut off transmissions.

-‘The sound quality is pretty decent today, so it seems a dust storm has passed.’

“Right, the weather forecast indicated we were lucky enough to miss it. It was tight, but all is well. So Matt, when do you plan on leaving?”

-‘If things go smoothly, I’ll likely reach the operation area by the end of this month or at least by June.’

It seemed the royal intelligence agency’s operations team was beginning preparations.

Following my prior deployment, Leoni had made immense efforts to mobilize the royal intelligence agency operations team.

Though the parliamentary intelligence committee and the Abas information agency warned that deploying armed forces could stir political friction with the government, Leoni was no simple character.

Having risen to the branch manager’s position in the male-dominated military intelligence office during her service, due to an incident during her post that risked her promotion, her significant past achievements had earned her the role of operations chief in the royal intelligence agency.

Upon returning to military intelligence, she even rose high enough to become the department head.

She had essentially experienced a rebirth.

Even revived ninjas or aliens who’ve never faced death would likely be astonished by Leoni’s presence.

The committee members and lawmakers who met with Leoni ultimately reversed their decisions and decided to deploy the royal intelligence agency’s operations team to the Mauritania continent. While the process itself could have been smoothed out, what mattered was that support was coming.

“Understood. See you on site.”

-‘Stay safe, and oh, regarding your subordinate, that Kair’s friend.’

If they mentioned a friend of Kair in the royal intelligence agency, they must be referring to Charnoy. Weren’t they preschool friends?

Charnoy put her friend Kair in the royal intelligence agency while playfully making a fuss.

How serious that fuss had been became evident— even Pippin, who was notoriously friendly (something that the constantly bullied Jake would vehemently deny), had grown fed up with it.

But now hearing that name suddenly made my heart sink. I cautiously asked.

“Did Charnoy cause some trouble?”

-‘Our teams have decided to move together this time; should I include Kair in the same unit?’

“Oh, is that what this was about? Well, go ahead as you wish; I have no objections.”

It wouldn’t be an issue allowing them to operate with friends in the same unit. Still, an amalgamation of beastmen and nymphs? That just seemed bizarre.

This isn’t Animal Farm; how had they ended up mixing species in the same unit? I didn’t have a particularly valid foundation to criticize, considering I’m the one employing orcs and dark elves as informants, but it did seem surreal.

-‘And by the way, I’ve got news from a friend at a foreign company.’

“What kind of news?”

-‘Movement from the imperial intelligence unit has been confirmed near the operational area. It’s close to where you are.’

“……”

Signals had been raised regarding movements from the reconnaissance department.

Since the data was from a foreign intelligence agency, the royal intelligence agency would have likely verified it to some extent. Thus, the accuracy of the information was high.

Matt informed me that despite not knowing why those pesky spies had come this way, I figured I would soon know.

That realization kept me from straying far from Camila after the radio communication ceased.

Her expression turned quizzical as if my behavior seemed out of place, prompting her to question with worry.

“Are you okay? Is something bad happening?”

“…It’s nothing.”

A look of concern washed over Camila’s face momentarily. She managed a smile, reaching out to hold my hand.

“Whatever it is, don’t worry. We’ve been doing just fine until now.”

True. We had done well.

I nodded and allowed a soft smile to pass my lips.

“I have no issues. You are the one troubling me.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“When I watch you, it feels like leaving a child unattended by the water. Please avoid causing worry and do well.”

“Geez, being treated like a child…”

Slightly smiling, Camila turned to gaze out through the opened window.

As evening settled over the desert, a brilliant galaxy illuminated the sky, with grey clouds billowing gracefully.

The stars densely studded the sky while the silhouettes of tree branches stretched skyward along the horizon. The worn-out radio echoed government propaganda in an endless loop.

Silence found its way hand-in-hand with calm. Against the pastoral backdrop, night approached like a peaceful traveler gliding across the soft sands.

“It’s beautiful,” Camila murmured, and I changed the radio channel. Then I turned up the volume.

Soft melodies filled the desert, mingling with the serenity as if stretching on endlessly.