A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Good stories about traveling abroad always feel unfamiliar to me.

Many modern people seek peace overseas, but for me, overseas was no different than a workplace or job site.

It’s not that I didn’t have any good memories. The problem was that they were as rare as beans in a drought.

Anyway.

The overseas assignment was a continuous series of colorful and fantastic experiences, and among them, the most absurd work location was the ‘Russian Federation.’

I thought it was as tough as my first assignment in China. For reference, this was my second assignment, handed to me immediately after finishing my China deployment.

When I received the order to go on a business trip to Russia right after returning home, I was incredibly surprised. Even my seniors were shocked. They all worried if I had offended someone up the ranks.

At that time, I didn’t know why they were so concerned.

Well… when I got there, I understood.

Was the surveillance tight? That was a fact. That “only” was a fact.

There were idiots beyond imagination.

China, Japan, and Russia made quite the mess.

Even saying “snowy Nigeria” was a luxury. Nigeria didn’t seem this foolish.

Here, it was just fools among fools. A country of total buffoonery.

Bold tattooed skinhead idiots mistook me for a Chinese and came at me for a fight.

(I had never experienced such serious and insulting discrimination in my life, so I lured them to a blind spot of the CCTV and smashed a bottle over their heads.)

My accommodations were shabby, with paint peeling off and walls cracking.

(I swear it looked normal when I saw it on the site. Damn, I still haven’t received my refund for this.)

Russian police openly demanded bribes.

(Buy your own chocolate bars, teachers!)

Even small administrative tasks stalled without bribes.

(What sort of bribe is needed to get three documents?)

When I turned on the tap to wash rice, rusty water flowed out like a geriatric’s leaked bladder.

(My colleague washed with rusty water and ended up getting kicked out of the dorm.)

Just a little past downtown Moscow, there were muddy, unpaved roads.

(When we got stuck in one while driving, my seniors cursed like we were Napoleon on a Russian expedition.)

And the surveillance was so tight.

I wasn’t just annoyed; there were moments I almost lost my mind because of the FSB.

Still, I liked that alcohol and cigarettes were cheap. The food was good too, making it somewhat bearable. There were many fun places to explore as well.

If I hadn’t had those little joys, I might have quit long ago.

The experiences I gained in Russia helped me in Africa and allowed me to live comfortably in the Kien Empire, but—

The fact that all those memories remained as utterly terrible recollections was undeniable. It was the plain truth.

“….”

There was a reason why memories of my time in Russia suddenly came to mind.

The expression of the master meeting the disciple, who was pouring waste into the toilet, resembled all too closely to that of my senior (Major), who had witnessed rice mixed with rusty water.

“So that kid had the knack for splashing waste all over….”

I couldn’t find a single excuse or justification.

—

Episode 18 – The Man Club

—

The venue changed, and quite some time had passed, yet the Duke hardly opened her mouth.

“….”

Considering she had participated in the Cult-Magic Tower War and faced demonic forces on frozen ground, this reaction might seem dramatic at first glance, but in reality, it was far from that.

As the title of Duke suggests, Alexandra Petrovna is a high-ranking figure in Kien. Not just a high-ranking figure, but a member of the royal family.

According to the “History of the Empire’s Foundation” (for some reason, every public document related to the Smirnov dynasty must phrase it this way; was it not ‘Duke’ but ‘Dog’ of the North?), it states, “The first emperor, having received a request from the dragon, defeated the evil dragon and as a reward, obtained divine treasures.”

Legends abound that say “dragon’s blood runs through her veins” or “she married a dragon that transformed into a human and bore children,” spewing nonsense even the Kim family, hoping for a strong hereditary line in Northern Korea, wouldn’t utter. But like all legends, these are just collections of unverifiable gibberish, with rationality, magic, and theology all screaming “Eva” with a resounding “Three strikes, Eva.”

Logically speaking, can it be? Just as a strange woman lying in a pond cannot become the basis of a government system, children born from “getting it on with dragons” cannot be the foundation of royal lineage. They are creatures that should not exist like a half-dog.

This is a truth proven by the great history stemming from the legend of King Arthur, which proudly boasts its legacy since 1975. Even the royals know that “dragon sex” is utter nonsense; aside from the emperor’s funeral and enthronement, they hardly mention it at all.

Of course, people with suspiciously large fortunes found this to be a plausible hypothesis, but still.

“….”

Such a person, meeting her only disciple after a long time, must have been shocked to find that disciple splashing waste everywhere.

If this were not fantasy but a martial arts novel, she would have died from being force-fed knowledge a hundred times.

The Duke, like a fish gasping for breath, finally found her voice, and that was precisely the reason.

“…Alright. I should hear the child’s story.”

“Professor…!”

Wahhh! Camila’s tears streamed down her face.

Like a citizen clinging to a magistrate, begging out her grievances, she began to unravel her troubles while hanging onto the Duke’s pant leg.

—

“Surely, there were such circumstances.”

By the time the story concluded, the Duke’s prepared snacks had turned to crumbs, disappearing without a trace.

Camila inhaled the snacks prepared for her, crying profusely. With her face swollen from mosquito bites, she was the very picture of ‘the wonders of the human body,’ a sight that would draw admiration even from the researchers in China.

I broke a snack in half and handed it to Camila. She cheerfully accepted it with an “Ah,” and I casually began.

“Proper waste management has a significant impact on hygiene. In a refugee camp housing anywhere from thousands to hundreds of thousands, an outbreak of disease would be unmanageable.”

The Duke nodded readily.

“I see. It was the same on the battlefield.”

“Indeed….”

The war between the Cult and the Magic Tower occurred a hundred years ago, in a time when civilization was far behind the present.

The concepts of public health and personal hygiene were vague, to the extent that people dumped their waste anywhere.

Camila chimed in.

“Nightingale proved through statistics during the Crimean War in the 1850s that even the British Army paid no mind to hygiene. The military hospitals were managed at the level of public restrooms.”

True to her British heritage, she proudly mentioned the splendid legacy (not even stolen from the colonies!) of the great British Empire.

The Duke smiled gently, patted her head, and started to wear a reminiscent expression.

“No one could have anticipated that such a number of mages would gather. Nor was anyone prepared. The first scene I witnessed… yes, I remember how the number of people was dozens of times more than the military uniforms I originally brought along.”

Lost in memories, the Duke slowly raised her head and continued to speak.

“There was no common language, I didn’t know who was supposed to give commands. The biggest issue was, of course, the restrooms. Sometimes, I couldn’t tell if this was a battlefield or a restroom….”

“Wasn’t that the case for all armies of that era?”

“That’s true. I recall even seeking counsel with generals but getting no clear answers.”

Was it any different for the Kien army? Even if they instinctively knew that waste smelled and was filthy, no one knew it was a source of disease.

That’s why the generals could only say, ‘Throw it away far from the base.’

Of course, just like with any war, there is never enough leisure time. They couldn’t always dump waste outside.

In winter, perhaps it could be overlooked, but what about summer? You’d be walking into a breeding ground for disease. In fact, if one discarded waste outside the base, problems would arise regardless.

“Was it four summers ago? During the harvest, when farmers attacked with plowing instruments. They claimed we ruined their harvest with the muck we left behind.”

“Hm….”

“Fortunately, we got through it unscathed, but similar events likely numbered in the thousands. That was one of the main pieces of evidence the Holy See used to slander us mages. The effects were quite considerable.”

Camila lowered her voice slightly and asked, “Black propaganda?” I nodded.

The Duke’s past stories drew on for quite a while. I understood that the Duke wasn’t particularly fond of recounting her wartime experiences.

Perhaps she was mindful of Camila. Camila loved hearing stories from others, especially those from a long time ago.

After a lengthy narration on warfare, the conversation began to flow naturally in a different direction. Staring at the snack crumbs, Camila, while unwrapping the new box, suddenly asked.

“By the way, Professor, what brings you here?”

The cold drink in the Duke’s hand found support from her chin. Then I shot a disapproving glance at Camila.

The Duke gazed off into the distance. The way she spoke bluntly carried an unusual bluntness, as if reproaching Camila for asking such a fundamental question at this late stage.

“I came to see the child.”

“…Ah.”

“Having been completely captivated by the snacks, I see you’ve regained your curiosity.”

Realizing her spacey demeanor, Camila hastily wiped away snack crumbs from her face, but the train had long departed.

The Duke shook her head in exasperation. Her concerned disciple clicked her tongue.

It was at that moment, when Camila was awkwardly setting the box down and looking for cues, that the master began to unravel how she had ended up so far into this remote place.

“I had urgent matters to attend to and distanced myself from worldly affairs, but upon returning to the citadel, I heard entertaining stories about the child.”

“Stories? What sort of stories?”

“She burned a tree. A tree that eats people.”

The Duke casually tossed this remark as if it was trivial.

“Seems that tree isn’t an ordinary one. I browsed the texts of the Imperial Academy, the Magic Tower, and the Ivory Tower, yet found nothing matching. It couldn’t be a magical creature either.”

Having traveled around, the Archmage asked a question that was clear yet profound.

It was virtually just the last puzzle piece, trying to see if it would fit beforehand.

“Was it a demon?”

“Yes.”

Camila didn’t hesitate, and I supplemented her insufficient explanation.

“It was a plan orchestrated by the cult known as Al Kair. Officially, with the death of ‘Prophet’ Abu Bakau Alsebar, who founded and led Al Kair, one tree ‘disappeared,’ and 53 cultists were apprehended at the hands of ‘Shamir’ Akande, and that concluded the matter.”

“What about unofficially?”

I let out a faint sigh.

“Despite removing two trees directly and an additional 28, there’s no telling how many more remain. The same goes for the cult remnants.”

“That aligns with what the Holy See described.”

“That’s the story I heard from the Holy See as well.”

Calmly continuing the explanation, I lounged lazily on the sofa. With my arms propped on the backrest, I finished my elaboration.

“This small religious group will disband before long. With the founder and first pope gone, they’ve lost their central point, gradually fracturing into various factions and eventually collapsing.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

Dangerous? In a way, definitely. If remnants initiate terrorism, people will die.

But, just like ISIL, which was bombed and its leader was assassinated, they’ve hidden underground and can only resort to suicide bombings now, unable to rampage like in the past.

The Om Shinrikyo could only disband after their leader was sentenced to death and was subjected to intense public security monitoring.

What’s the point here?

Once caught and thoroughly dealt with, they usually end up in a coffin.

(Of course, the Taliban, who fled to neighboring countries in a state of near death and then returned to Afghanistan to wreak havoc on the Afghan government, are exceptions, as are the Northern Alliance who are fiercely fighting against that Taliban. – Remember, this area is a place where Britain, the Soviets, and the Americans made a hasty escape, only to end up squabbling over a scrap of fabric in 2021.)

Are cult organizations around here any different?

Thanks to Akande capturing a little over 50 people, the nail-pulling factories are working round the clock, disregarding labor laws, busy removing the remnants.

I expressed all of this as positively and succinctly as I could.

“The Inquisition will handle it properly.”

“They surely will.”

It felt like I summarized too much. Regardless, things seemed to have settled.

The Duke nodded knowingly before turning her head towards Camila.

“I’m proud you’ve dealt with the demon.”

“Hehe.”

With the soft smile, she scratched her head bashfully. Compliments could make even a whale dance, and with both praise and snacks in hand, Camila looked ready to soar through the ceiling.

But then, the atmosphere grew strange.

Out of the blue, the Duke suddenly delivered a decent flick to Camila’s forehead.

“Ouch! Why did you do that…?”

“Why are you smirking like that? News of what you did has spread worldwide.”

“…?”

While Camila, bewildered and rubbing her forehead, tilted her head in confusion, newspaper sheets fluttered across the air and landed noisily on the table.

Only then did everything start to make sense. The main characters emblazoned on the front pages were none other than our party.

As my trembling hand picked up the papers, I turned pale and began to shake. Meanwhile, the Duke sighed deeply.

“…I was happy to teach you ancient magic after you used the ‘Azure Fire’ but forgot to first make you a proper person before molding you into a mage.”

Seeing a disciple’s antics, the master lamented.

Ah, I must have taught you incorrectly! I should have taught morality before magic.

In my rush to finish the curriculum, a would-be psycho (not) arsonist (was right) slipped out into the world!

“Urgh…!”

The Duke’s face fluctuated in hues. Brightening and dimming like a light bulb gone haywire.

Clearly, her nephew (Emperor Nikolai VI) was the one with dementia, yet she felt like she was the one losing her mind.

As a quiet groan continued, Camila was in a state of absolute restlessness. Regardless of her worries, I leaned in, bursting with anticipation for the Duke’s next words.

And finally.

At last!

After the long, long wait, the Duke’s lips parted, and from them came a solution so clear and innovative it could slap Solomon himself across the face.

“…Alright! Let’s do this.”