A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“There are cultists trying to assassinate the Saint in the refugee camp.”

The soldier of the Cult spoke.

“An assassination?”

“Yes.”

“…….”

I leaned forward, listening attentively to Ibrahim’s words.

With wine in his mouth, Ibrahim began speaking with a calm expression.

“Before we get to the point, I must explain the background. First, let me clarify how we obtained this information.”

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Days were breathless.

It has already been ten years since we conducted operations between Lateran and the continent across the sea. The war between the Cult and the cultists, which has lasted for thousands of years, was still ongoing, even as the mystery was unraveling.

During this time, rumors started to spread. They said the first descendant might come to the Mauritania continent.

It was not just a simple rumor.

Prominent figures from various fields were appearing on broadcasts that anyone would recognize. A star that killed demons from the North and drove out demon kin was said to be heading to the Mauritania continent soon with his companions. There were whispers of a new Saint favored by the gods coming as well.

Originally a rumor, it soon proved to be true.

It began with a decree issued by the Holy See to each department.

“A decree has been issued from the Holy See. It was a command to prepare thoroughly as the Saint is expected to visit the Mauritania continent soon.”

The newly inaugurated Pope, Raphael, issued instructions to ensure Lucia’s safety. This was proof that the dispatch of the Saint to Mauritania, which had been merely a rumor, was indeed true.

The directive from the Holy See was communicated through the war council to the knights operating in the Mauritania continent. The order instructed to identify and eliminate all potential threats to the safety of the Saint and the companions chosen by the oracle.

The Inquisition, based on its own intelligence and information shared from various agencies, located all existing threats in the area, and the compiled data was soon sent to the Order of the Holy Knights.

At that moment, a suspicious piece of intelligence was detected by the Inquisition.

“What was that piece of intelligence?”

“It contained information that a cult organization had set their sights on Saint Lucia.”

The content of the intelligence was serious. However, it couldn’t be deemed a high priority at that moment.

This was because a considerable number of local religious organizations, including Al-Yabd, the dominant faith in Mauritania, were hostile towards the Cult.

From the viewpoint of these opposing religious groups, the Saint would be an excellent target. It was like a high-ranking priest of their enemy walking right into their home.

Reports of local religious organizations targeting Lucia emerged throughout the Mauritania continent, with some openly threatening to kill the Saint. Consequently, the Inquisition received reports about the cult organization but didn’t pay much attention.

There were limitations to how the Inquisition could handle intelligence cases.

It was more rational and efficient to monitor genuinely dangerous large religious organizations rather than a small cult organization.

Hence, the Inquisition initially disregarded the first report. A few days later, similar information came in again from the same cult organization, but it was overshadowed by reports of a Mauritanian warlord attacking a religious school, beheading students and priests.

If you look at it this way, it was a common occurrence in intelligence agencies.

Not all pieces of information contain the truth, and occasionally agents would inflate cases to raise their own value. The Inquisition probably deemed it a false report as well.

But then an incident occurred.

“An information agent who infiltrated the cult organization was killed. This was the same agent who first reported that the cult had targeted Saint Lucia.”

While it was common for an agent to die in this industry, it was serious when an agent was killed immediately after providing intelligence.

Upon receiving the news, the Inquisition went back over the report made by the deceased agent. They pieced together the fragmented puzzle and concluded that the intelligence had a high likelihood of being true.

I listened as Ibrahim recounted the last message the murdered agent wanted to convey to the Inquisition.

“The cultists want the Saint’s blood.”

“…….”

“That was the last message left by the deceased agent.”

Ibrahim calmly took a sip of wine.

“The Inquisition, having received the message, requested cooperation from the Order of the Holy Knights. They asked for surveillance of the cult organization. Should they attempt to harm Saint Lucia, all responsibilities would lie with the Holy See, so they urged us to stop them by any means necessary.”

“So what do you think, Mr. Ibrahim? Do you really believe the cultists intend to threaten the Saint’s life?”

“Yes.”

It was a firm answer, delivered with unwavering conviction.

With his fingers interlaced at the corners of his lips, Ibrahim continued in a low voice.

“During the surveillance of their base, some cultists were detected sneaking into the country. Can you guess where they are headed?”

Without much thought, I replied.

“The refugee camp.”

“Exactly. That’s the very place Saint Lucia is scheduled to visit.”

There was no need to wonder how a mere religious organization had figured out Lucia’s itinerary. The media worldwide was spilling her movements in detail.

“Of course, Lucia’s schedule is classified information only to be handled within the Cult and its alliance. But you can’t hide it from reporters. The cultists probably figured it out by following the news.”

“Did you trace the smuggling route?”

Ibrahim nodded.

“They came in through a broker, disguised as refugees.”

“And who is this broker?”

The soldier spoke up.

“Yunus Abdulla Mohammed.”

“…….”

“That’s the very person Jake has been tailing.”

—

The heavy smoke I inhaled dispersed into the air. The mild headache from the potent nicotine kicked in.

“We don’t know exactly what the cult’s plan is. But whatever it may be, it poses a clear threat to the safety of Saint Lucia.”

I tapped the ash off my cigarette.

“They said they want blood, so they must be aiming for an assassination. It’s not unusual for a priest of the Cult to die on this land.”

“What do they want?”

“Help us catch the cultists.”

Ibrahim stated.

“We have already discerned that the Abas government is aiming for the broker. If that weren’t the case, Jake wouldn’t be near Yunus. We’ll hand him over.”

That meant we could take the recruitment officer from Sanya.

I understood the intent of the Cult’s special operations unit.

“You mean you want us to provide information in exchange for handing over the broker.”

“Exactly.”

The Cult would hand over Yunus to us, and we would provide them with the intelligence we obtained. This was a kind of trade.

Such trades occur more frequently in the intelligence community than you might think.

The party seeking the deal is usually the host country’s intelligence agency. The trading counterpart is the intelligence agency of an allied country that has entered the local area.

Typically, when they operate unofficially without notifying the host country, deals come into play when they get caught. When a deal goes south, counterintelligence agencies step in to chase out the allied country’s agents.

Although the overseas intelligence operations of host-country agencies are considered a serious diplomatic issue that infringes on sovereignty, the activities of allied countries’ intelligence agencies are often tacitly tolerated. When minor disputes occur between allied companies, it’s embarrassing, so they turn a blind eye while exchanging intelligence in return for assistance.

I inhaled the smoke and mulled over Ibrahim’s proposal.

“I don’t understand… You’re tracking the cultists, and you were monitoring Yunus before us. Why would you suddenly propose a trade?”

“…….”

This was the question of why they weren’t handling it themselves and were asking for our help.

In response, Ibrahim donned a faint smile.

“We initially intended to deal with the broker ourselves, but Saint Lucia decided to visit the camp earlier than expected.”

“Oh.”

“We were left with no choice but to take a different approach due to time constraints.”

I nodded in understanding.

We leaned against an empty bar and continued discussing the specifics of the operation. Ibrahim requested information while assuring that they would not involve themselves with the warlords, and I asked for the materials the Inquisition and the Utland Knights possessed about Yunus.

Thus, the information exchange concluded.

“Please go first.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Having obtained consent, Ibrahim exited the pub first. He glanced around, tightened his coat, and melted into the darkness of the alley, while the Royal Intelligence Department agents who had disembarked from the van began to follow him.

After finishing my cigarette, I wandered the streets until I reunited with Matt.

“What do you think, Matt?”

As soon as I turned the corner of the building, Matt, who had followed closely behind, quickened his pace and spoke up.

“It sounds like a decent proposal. We just need to get Director Leoni’s approval.”

“Let’s get in touch.”

I reported through the secure line. Leoni, upon receiving the urgent report, evaluated the cooperation operation with the Cult’s special operations unit positively.

While checking for any trailing tails as we roamed the city, Matt and I entered an empty commercial building to discuss.

“First of all, there must be a cult organization targeting the Saint, which the Cult is likely tracking. It would be great if the Director could obtain information through official channels, but if the Inquisition refuses to share, I’ll explore unofficial routes.”

I decided to gather intelligence on the cult forays through the information network of Hassan’s warlord and contacts within the Inquisition.

During this time, Matt had decided to proceed with abducting Yunus.

“Alright. We’ll send a team to the camp at dawn to abduct Yunus.”

“Please keep it as quiet as possible. If the peacekeeping forces catch wind of it, the whole operation will go down the drain.”

“Don’t worry about it. By the way, what about the cultists infiltrating the camp?”

Matt brushed his sparse beard and continued.

“If those cultists cross the border, it’ll be hard to find them. I’m talking about the actual border, not just tribal boundaries.”

“I have a plan.”

Hassan’s warlord has an informant planted in the Asen intelligence. If the cultists infiltrating the camp escape to another country, they will most likely use the nearest border.

For reference, the closest border to the refugee camp is located within the territory of the Asen warlord.

I was planning to track the cult group through the Asen intelligence.

“If they cross into Asen territory, we may be able to identify the cultists’ movements. It’ll be hard to trace once they enter Sanya’s territory, but fortunately, the border there takes a five-day drive to reach, so we should have some time to pursue them.”

“That’s fortunate, but there’s really another issue.”

Matt, displaying a serious expression, lowered his voice.

“What if the cultists head straight for the Necropolis without crossing the border?”

Necropolis. At that name, I couldn’t help but close my mouth.

Matt pressed on.

“The Necropolis is a place that only mages or shamans can enter. To monitor it, we absolutely need to infiltrate with an informant.”

“Is there an informant?”

“No.”

Matt shook his head.

“There used to be one, but now there isn’t. It’s such a filthy place. How about you?”

“I don’t have one either.”

“Fantastic.”

Matt insisted that unless we could find an informant, we couldn’t send our team to the Necropolis. I had to agree with him.

The Necropolis is an area that ordinary people cannot enter unless they are mages or shamans. Of course, cultists or individuals with mystique may come in and out, but ordinary people like us would get chased off at the entrance.

Matt began to search for potential informants in case the cultists made their way to the Necropolis. He pulled out his secure phone and reached out to his contacts.

I crossed my arms and smoked while contemplating. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me, and I gestured towards Matt, who was on the phone.

“What is it?”

“I just had a good idea.”

“What is it?”

I looked around and met Matt’s gaze.

“I don’t know any informants operating in the Necropolis, but I know an informant who can get inside.”

“Who is it?”

—

The quiet lodging we visited at night was still.

The thick dusk settled over the desert, casting a faint moonlight across the hallway.

After passing several numbered doors and walking for a long while, I finally stopped in front of one. It was on the top floor of the enormous lodging with eight stories.

The room belonged to a woman who used the best floor all to herself.

—

Knock. Knock.

A neat knock echoed in the hallway. I paused for a moment at the door. As the knocking finished, I heard rustling noises and the sound of slippers being pulled off from within.

“Why, what brings you here?”

The room’s owner appeared through the partially opened door. She looked like she had just prepared for bed, wearing soft pajamas.

One hand held the doorknob, while the other rested on the door frame as she smiled alluringly.

Her violet hair swayed softly with even the slightest movement.

“Welcome, Colonel.”

Francesca.

The alchemist of the Magic Tower greeted me with an enchanting smile.