A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Nabuktu is a province and city located in the southwestern part of the Jamria Federation.

One peculiar thing about it is that the name of the province and that of the city are exactly the same. If we were to draw an analogy with South Korea, it would be like having a city called ‘Gangwon City’ within ‘Gangwon Special Self-Governing Province.’

The example of Nabuktu, where the province and city share the same name, is considered one of the rare exceptions on the Mauritania Continent.

Even though there are unique naming conventions in Mauritania, ‘Nabuktu Province Nabuktu City’ sounds odd right from the auditory level.

The birth of such a city is entirely rooted in the history of the Jamria Federation.

Like many countries on the Mauritania Continent, the Jamria Federation was formed through annexation and war.

The nation called ‘Jamria Federation’ emerged from a tribal confederation formed around large tribes that militarily absorbed and unified surrounding smaller tribes.

‘Nabuktu’ was also a region absorbed into the federation through a bloody conflict.

The conflict between the dominant and oppressed ethnic groups is a historical trend experienced by countless empires.

It was only natural for the native people of Nabuktu to rise against the Jamria Federation government.

And just as every empire and dominant ethnic group has done, the federation government categorized this as a rebellion and took steps to suppress it—and they succeeded.

Although the suppression was successful, the unification failed.

The wrath of the natives, whose homeland was forcibly annexed, was not an emotion that could be easily subdued with guns and swords.

The initial armed suppression facilitated the second uprising, and the second attempt at suppression escalated the uprising into a civil war. This is what set the stage for the blood-soaked modern history of the Jamria Federation.

There was no need to explain how incompetent and utterly terrible the federation government had been in this process.

It was clear from where the three major warlord factions represented by Asen, Sanya, and Hassan based their operations.

The civil war that lasted for decades between the central and southern regions turned the entire territory into ruins. As great powers such as the Kien Empire and the Kingdom of Abas began to intervene in earnest, the civil war plunged into an endless bloodbath.

At this point, the government of the Jamria Federation felt the need to end the civil war.

The southern rebels felt the same.

Although everyone had guns pointed at each other, they all sensed it was time to lower them.

Ultimately, the Jamria Federation government implemented special measures.

They declared special autonomous zones in the southern cities of Nabuktu, Yon Kenema, and Gora Hun. A large-scale project for the reconstruction of the devastated territory. Granting a certain level of autonomy and regional revitalization projects, and so on.

Although the blueprints proposed by the federation government did not completely end the civil war, they had their effects.

The south, granted a high level of autonomy, quickly rebuilt around major cities, with Nabuktu at its center.

Therefore, Nabuktu is not just a city with a special name.

It is the hometown preserved by the oppressed ethnic group through blood and tears.

It symbolizes the conflicts that run through the modern history of the Jamria Federation.

Is that why?

A towering tree that appeared in Nabuktu boasted an incredibly grand and colossal presence.

It seemed to symbolize the blood-soaked conflicts.

As if it had absorbed all the blood and tears the city contained.

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

The tree had eaten people, yet the city was utterly calm.

Some might be appalled at how such a shocking event could leave the city unscathed, but to me, this was a natural phenomenon.

No matter how gigantic the tree was, the city representing the region was vast and much larger. The incident had not occurred all over the city but rather erupted in a tiny sector within it.

And Nabuktu is a metropolis with 24 million residents. In terms of area, it was roughly larger than Andong City, and.

In simpler terms, it housed a population twice that of Seoul within an area roughly the size of South Korea’s largest Andong City.

Of course, the 24 million residents weren’t all crammed together.

Income, profession, religion, and tribal origins dictate unwritten standards. Districts are divided, and each lives among neighbors who share similar codes.

The area where the incident occurred was the most backward slum within that framework.

Comprising dozens of tribes that make up the population of the Jamria Federation, the residents from the most marginalized, lowly tribes, the impoverished belonging to the lower social strata, or refugees with no ties to Nabuktu.

Locals living in the slums largely belonged to such groups.

By merely looking into this, one could get a general idea of the tragic events unfolding in that slum. I knew because of experience, not merely knowledge. It was inferred from information, not conjecture.

A sandstorm singing of the Earth God’s wrath passed through the desert. In the slum where the tree grew, nourished by human flesh and blood, we were greeted by armed state troops and people crawling over barriers.

—

“…What on earth is that?”

Camila, who had gotten out of the car, turned her head towards the roar of the crowd sounding like heavy rain.

A massive blockade made of sand, gravel, and broken concrete rose up. When a pole leaned upon the blockade, the military police dodged and struck down those climbing over with clubs and their boots.

“Are they really trying to prevent those people from getting out?”

“That seems to be the case.”

News had already reached the embassy that the state government had erected barriers and blocked the slum. However, I hadn’t realized it was this serious.

Carefully pulling out my camera, Camila instinctively covered the window with her coat.

It’s all too likely for foreigners to get arrested if they try to film scenes like this. Without mentioning diplomats, I captured the landscape of the site, evading scrutiny.

– “Whoa!”
– “Step back! Move back!”
– “Clear this away, idiots!”

Tension mounted at the boundary between the slum and the urban center, with a standoff between militia and residents.

The slum inhabitants appeared relatively young, and it appeared that a small protest had begun, primarily consisting of the vibrant youth.

– “Clear out! Clear out!”
– “Open the gates!”

Those who had gathered at the blockade raised their voices, protesting and pointing at the military.

Some cleared the debris blocking the entrance to the slum, while a long pole appeared and swung towards the military above the blockade.

When the youth clearing the rubble were attacked by clubs, the soldiers, who had been randomly beating their peers, fled in surprise, avoiding the pole thrown from below.

A military officer raised his voice through the loudspeaker.

Though decipherable in a mysterious language, it likely demanded the protesters to disperse and return home.

The military’s benevolent request was met with cheers from the residents.

The uproar grew deafening, and rocks, bottles, and garbage came flying from somewhere.

The heated atmosphere looked like a pressure cooker primed to explode at any moment.

This was a clear sign of the residents’ fury.

“…”

Despite the broadcast vehicle being parked right there, the state troops paid no heed.

Whether the reporters were watching or the foreign diplomats were present, the state troops were more concerned with beating down people rather than allowing anyone to escape.

The government troops dispatched from the center were not to be trifled with either.

They sat idly, pretending to be bystanders. Regardless of what happens, the federal troops showed no interest.

Soldiers atop trucks stared vacantly at the protesters. The officers in the federal troops didn’t even bother paying attention.

One of the officers hovering about even covered his ears from the racket while chatting away on his phone, and residents outside the slum merely observed the conflict with blank stares.

Whether they deemed it an issue pertinent only to Nabuktu or were wary of the subtle power struggle between central and local governments, I couldn’t say.

Whatever the reason, it was clear that the federal troops had no intention of intervening in this situation.

Our predicament was no different.

It was impossible for a foreigner to interfere in domestic protests of another country.

That left my companions feeling uneasy.

“Let’s go. There’s nothing good to be gained by staying here.”

I led the three of them, who were hesitating, away from the scene.

The reactions varied. Francesca turned away with a bitter expression, while Lucia couldn’t tear her eyes from the tragic scene unfolding at the blockade. Only Camila, who was accustomed to such sights, maintained her composure, though her complexion was far from bright.

The sun had begun to dip toward the west. As dusk descended, it was imperative to hurry to our destination to avoid disrupting our plans.

“Let’s go. Quickly.”

“…”

“We need to eradicate that tree first. Only then can we stop witnessing this chaos.”

Lucia, who had been standing stock-still, willed her reluctant legs to move.

Passing by my side, she murmured in a rather weak voice.

“…That’s right. The tree is the source of all this trouble.”

I opted to remain silent.

The sounds of military trucks and discontented honks echoed along the boulevard. Vehicles kicked up clouds of dust as they raced down the street.

Occasionally, someone would attempt to cling to a vehicle, trying to slip through the opened barricade, but unfortunately, no one succeeded.

As I gazed at the slowly closing barricade, I turned my gaze back from the rearview mirror. After gathering photos to report back to the embassy, I engaged the gear and pressed on the accelerator.

The convoy weaved through Nabuktu’s slum.

Toward the imposing giant tree visible up ahead.