A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

“This is child abuse.”

“Looks like you have no talent for farming. Where do you see a child in yourself?”

“The age gap between me and the professor is bigger than that of a typical grandmother and granddaughter. Surely, even the court would consider this child abuse?”

The language of the elderly is complicated. The ability to communicate is directly linked to brain development, and a sharp mind cannot withstand the ravages of time. That’s why elders often ramble on and suddenly veer off topic.

In that sense, Alexandra Petrovna was seriously concerned about her disciple’s mental health.

Such a young thing bringing up age to a figure as wise as the sky!

“I wonder what sin I committed in the ancestral shrine to end up with such a troublesome child as my disciple.”

“Looks like you’ve amassed a good karma.”

“Oh, if only I could speak properly…”

Colonel Frederick, recognized by the Smirnov Imperial family as a great archmage and duke of the Kien Empire, was at his wit’s end with the complaints of the much younger Camila, who looked to be around 80 years his junior.

But Camila merely turned her head away with a haughty expression.

While wearing a single small pimple atop her head, no less.

“Hmph!”

That haughty defiance made even a master of over 100 years reflect on themselves.

Perhaps I should toss her back into the furnace of human modification one more time. Maybe I should have infused a bit more magic power into that earlier light slap!

The junior professor felt as if the world was crumbling down around him. It was all the more reason why the duke let out a deep sigh.

“You’re already worried.”

“…?”

“I wonder what my friend will say upon seeing this spectacle.”

—

Episode 20 – Who Threatened with a Sword?

As is customary with all authoritarian regimes, prestige and face are vital virtues in Ashtistan. Especially for public officials of the republic.

It could be said that the customs of Mauritania, where honor is more precious than life, contributed to this culture that holds prestige and face in high regard, but the most important reason is undoubtedly rooted in the history and politics that make up the foundation of Ashtistan.

Hence, even while passing through the ornately decorated corridors of the palace, I couldn’t help but reflect on this country’s history.

—

“Your Highness, may I introduce our esteemed guests to the palace?”

A distinguished elderly woman wearing traditional clothing approached the duke.

Azadi Palace in the capital of Ashtistan, Shizuya, has a unique structure: the inner palace and the outer palace.

Typically, the inner palace refers to the place where the empress or queen resides, but here, the inner palace has a slightly different meaning.

Compared to the White House or the Blue House, the outer palace can be considered a space accessible to visitors. Conversely, the inner palace is a VIP area that officials cannot enter.

Interestingly, not even officials may enter the inner palace of Azadi Palace. There are separate staff for the outer and inner palaces, and even the guards belong to different affiliations.

The elderly woman was a public servant working in that ‘inner palace.’

Unlike those who had guided us from the entrance.

“Guide? Is there a reason for that?”

“The road is long, and I worried you might get bored.”

The duke nodded in agreement, and the guide politely inquired with a gentle tone.

“Hero. Are you familiar with the history of Ashtistan?”

“I know a little. I didn’t read it thoroughly, but I skimmed through a few books at the library before coming.”

“I see, then do you happen to know the name of the palace in which you currently stand?”

It wasn’t an empty boast; a voice came from Camila, tinged with confidence.

“Azadi Palace, am I right?”

“Correct. It is the oldest structure in Shizuya and symbolizes the legitimacy of Ashtistan, passed down from the old dynasty. That is Azadi Palace.”

—

Ashtistan, ruled by the old dynasty, was certainly far from a good country, even in jest.

While they succeeded in modernizing amidst the waves of revolution and the War of the Magic Tower, once the international community imposed sanctions, exemplified by the Nastasia Treaty, numerous states on the Mauritania continent that had been pushing for modernization sank under burdens of debt.

In that chaotic era, Ashtistan stood as one of the few nations to achieve modernization in the Mauritania continent.

“Shizuya boasts a deep history even amid the red desert. It’s a place where the past and present coexist.”

The guide continued to explain calmly as she walked.

“Foreign powers never set foot here, and Shizuya was the first place to bloom civilization on the soil of peace. The Azadi Palace is a symbol of that history.”

However, the unstable economy sparked the flames of civil war, birthing millions of refugees from neighboring countries.

It is only natural for those who lost their homes to dream of the ‘American Dream.’ Seven million citizens took to the roads, with nearly 1.9 million refugees flocking to the borders.

—

“The peace of Shizuya has endured for a long time. Even amidst the civil wars of neighboring countries and countless foreign conflicts, it has never been conquered. With the holy land of Al-Yabd present, Shizuya is often called the holy body of the Earth God, drawing the weary to its embrace.”

Initially, Ashtistan didn’t refuse the refugees.

Believers of Al-Yabd were like blood-related siblings.

The old dynasty, a devout follower of the Earth God, opened the borders for those whose lives were in peril, accepting 570,000 refugees over six years.

The problem arose when complaints came in from nearby governments.

They claimed ‘rebels’ who fled to the camps were using them as bases to orchestrate their resistance.

Of course, the Ashtistan Kingdom paid no heed.

—

“There must have been some uncomfortable aspects with various races and ethnicities mixing, but… were there not such issues?”

When the English girl asked in an artificially calm voice, the guide smiled as if it were a picturesque moment.

“It was always bustling with people, but laughter never once left Shizuya.”

“Is that so?”

“Ashtistan has suffered from foreign threats perpetually. Yet, enemies are not solely external. Likewise, friends can always be found close or far, such is the nature of friendship.”

This wasn’t merely a tale confined to humans. Dark Elves, Dwarves, Beastmen, Orcs, Goblins, and others living in the red deserts and vast plains could become friends whenever they wished.

This is why the guide pointed out the decorative displays set at regular intervals.

“What you are observing are relics presented by Dark Elves who traveled back and forth from the East long ago. The marble tiles and columns on the floor were brought over 860 years ago by envoys from famed eastern mountains.”

“Oh…”

“Indeed, Ashtistan has long been a strategic point heading to the east, and all envoys, merchants, and travelers passing through Shizuya are more than just friends; they are the reason why Shizuya could bask in freedom and prosperity.”

—

These were not just absurd claims. Numerous governments from the international community rushed to support Ashtistan.

From the Kingdom of Abas to the Kien Empire and even the Patalia Republic of the royal regime—far-off eastern nations echoed their support as well.

However, when a special envoy from the Lushan Federation dispatched to the World Union exposed “Ashtistan’s Information Agency supporting the rebel forces in refugee camps,” the civil war surrounding the Mauritania continent entered a new phase.

—

“In that sense, the 1,300-year history that Azadi Palace guards symbolizes not just the peace of Ashtistan but also its prosperity. Thus, in the 16th century, a painter from Patalia completed a work titled ‘Above the Sun Palace’ to express eternity and immortality.”

Amidst the columns of the corridor, a grand spire loomed into view. The guide elaborated that this was the very place where the renowned artist from Patalia stayed until he completed the painting.

“Above the Sun Palace…”

Duke Alexandra Petrovna gazed at the spire with a vague expression.

“Ah, the masterpiece that led the revival of 16th-century art. It’s displayed in the Patalia National Museum. Have you seen it, my child?”

“No?”

Camila looked at the duke as if she were seeing something for the first time, her eyes questioning if he had any knowledge of art.

In reply, the archmage began with his usual curiosity.

“How could I not know? It once hung in my room.”

“Ha~ that’s a joke. How could you possibly hang something from a foreign national museum in your room? Unless you stole it and returned it afterward.”

“……”

The archmage averted his gaze. Seeing this, the English girl tilting her head in confusion.

“…That’s not true, right?”

“I mean, who would hear that and not misunderstand? I merely borrowed it temporarily through a fair wager from a friend’s family collection.”

“What wager?”

“…Perhaps it was horse racing…?”

“……”

“It was during my younger days.”

A long sigh escaped. The weary voice of the disciple turned the conversation away. The guide acted as though she hadn’t heard anything.

“That ‘Above the Sun Palace,’ which belonged to the Ranieri family, is regarded as one of the representative works that heralded the revival of 16th-century art. The landscape of Azadi Palace and Shizuya seen from the spire starkly highlights the stature of the ‘Ashtistan Kingdom,’ which ruled the red desert for thousands of years.”

—

The reputation of the old dynasty that had governed Ashtistan for thousands of years fell to ruin in an instant.

As they incited conflict amidst the tragedy of siblings, they could no longer expect recognition as family.

Having exploited the civil wars of neighboring countries, their loyalty received scorn, even less than a scrap of paper.

Many international organizations and aid groups supporting the refugees condemned the Ashtistan Kingdom for using the refugees as human shields, and media outlets covering the civil war unveiled directives exchanged between the Ashtistan Kingdom and the rebel groups.

From a faithful neighbor to an immoral thug, the successful model for the Mauritania continent found itself in the muck.

—

“Throughout ancient to modern times, Shizuya has always served as a corridor for the kingdoms of the Mauritania continent to converge, and as expressed in ‘Above the Sun Palace,’ the glory of Ashtistan reached even the furthest corners of the continent.”

“…….”

“It is precisely for this reason that old manuscripts depicted Ashtistan as the ‘Empire of the Desert.'”

No one knows on what grounds the old dynasty supported the rebels.

Yet, all that is known is that they found themselves in dire straits.

The civil wars of neighboring nations would not conclude anytime soon.

And even if peace were to come, the surrounding nations that had turned their backs on them would never trust them again.

It couldn’t be more evident.

Thus, the old dynasty of Ashtistan stood at a crossroads.

Should they wait in thorny paths for a peace that might never arrive, accepting all taboos?

Or should they insist on their choices, even if it meant turning all against them?

The path the old dynasty chose was clearly the latter.

—

“Although the fallen royal family saw their light fade in the process of losing their people’s trust and collapsing, there remains a fact: Ashtistan weathered the transition into a republic while firmly maintaining its position at the center of the Mauritania continent. Behind this lie the unrecognized efforts of countless unseen citizens.”

Borders are now closed; defenses have been fortified. Anyone crossing without permission shall be sentenced to death under royal law.

The publishing of materials that disrespect the royal family is strictly forbidden. All media and assemblies must receive prior approval and censorship; failure to possess a certificate renders even foreign journalists liable to prosecution.

Law enforcement apprehended anyone who communicated with foreign parties, and secret police infiltrated universities and academies under the guise of preventing subversive activities.

—

“…Specifically?”

“Well. As the hero of the story, you may have heard of the many who resisted the tyranny of the royal family. They were valiant and just. From intellectuals…”

—

During a class, a renowned professor was forcibly dragged out by his hair before his students.

For stating in a five-year-old interview that, “Just like in foreign countries, the appointment of public officials should belong to the Cabinet rather than the royal family,” the professor received a 50-year sentence for insult against the royal family.

—

“Laborers…”

An activist imprisoned sought to expose the conditions inside the camps and began a hunger strike that lasted around 100 days.

On the way home, he was kidnapped by thugs and brought to trial; before the 103rd sun rose, he passed away at 23 years old in solitary confinement.

—

“Students…”

A foreign student going out to meet a friend was forcibly deported by police waiting in the lobby, and the Ashtistani friend waiting for him fell into a coma 30 days later.

The investigating officer claimed, “We merely treated him to tea; there was no assault or coercion,” but silenced the family when they questioned, “Is it normal for nine teeth to fall out in 30 days?”

A lawyer helping the bereaved families died after being shot by thugs while leaving a temple following a ceremony.

—

“Many people, each in their own way, worked to overthrow the dynasty.”

“…….”

“During this time, the most pivotal figure was the ‘Menbashi,’ who now sits at the cabinet of the Ashtistan Republic. He was the one who led the revolution to oust the corrupt dictatorial regime, and continues to serve Ashtistan to this day. However… difficulties arose at the time as the minions of the Azadi palace wielded influence throughout Shizuya.”

—

No matter the process, the ruler who had governed the kingdom of Ashtistan for thousands of years became a desert despot instead.

The Kien Empire, which had strengthened its bonds while sponsoring the independence of the Magic Tower, was even beginning to suggest, “Wouldn’t it be wise to go easy on it?” Their tyranny even made Nikolai VI shake his head.

Yet, no one restrained this tyranny.

Ashtistan’s royal army, one of the strongest forces in the Mauritania continent, was tasked with protecting the dictator.

Each for their own reasons, interlocking interests turned a blind eye to the tyranny of the old dynasty.

But what no one expected was…

—

“One day, as a sandstorm obscured the sky of Shizuya and swept through the corrupted dynasty of Azadi Palace,”

There are courageous individuals in this world who are willing to vent their anger for a stranger simply for having been hit before their eyes, and this person had thrown a similar tantrum across the sea in their youth.

—

“True freedom (آزادی : Azadi) has arrived in Ashtistan.”

As the long tale concluded, the elderly woman wrapped up the conversation with a grin as if it were painted.

I exchanged a quiet sigh with Camila as our gazes met.

…Introducing the palace? Seems more like she’s peddling propaganda. Is this North Korea or what?

What I heard was of the fall of the Ashtistan Kingdom, yet for some reason, I thought of ‘Revolutionary History.’ Oddly reminiscent of when that guide was yammering on and on in North Korea; it really gave me the chills.

“Camila. Be honest with me.”

“What is it?”

“Are you regretting coming here?”

“…A little.”

Camila replied with a look that suggested she was chewing something bitter. Honestly, who threatened us with swords to come here, anyway?

…Well, they did use magic instead of swords. But still.

“We’ve arrived!”

The elderly woman announced with a strong voice that could be heard clearly beyond the giant door.

Deep within the Azadi Palace in Shizuya, many companies, including the Royal Intelligence Department and the Military Intelligence Agency, claimed this place to be the most secretive space in Ashtistan.

Thus was its name—’Citadel.’

The guide to the inner palace bowed deeply in deference towards the inside. Even as we walked, she remained still, as if that place were an area forbidden to her.

– Have you arrived…?

A deep, distant voice echoed. It seemed to serve as a greeting and signal.

The enormous gates of the citadel, which seemed unlikely to even allow someone to merely touch its decorations while carrying a few orcs, opened smoothly, without a sound.

It felt like a border. A perfect separation from light and sound—a completely isolated dimension.

The streaming glow that crept through the gap vanished in an instant, leaving only silence and darkness within. No—more accurately, there existed a dim light source akin to a lamp. Yet, perceptually, it felt like it was thirty meters away, perhaps even much farther.

…Ugh.

“Camila.”

“Yes, I’m regretting it. Already missing home…”

“…I haven’t even asked anything yet?”

Camila was trembling with a look of sheer panic, as if she were regretting everything. Her appearance was indescribably bizarre. Of course, I wasn’t an exception either.

However, Alexandra Petrovna seemed utterly unfazed. Unlike the terrified Camila or my suspicious glances, she led the way, striding confidently into the inner chamber.

—

It wasn’t as vast as one might assume.

Whether it was an illusion or a vision shown by someone, the light source that had seemed thirty meters away was suddenly nearby before we’d even gotten far.

The source of the soft light was unexpectedly an ancient candlestick. It wasn’t the European-style candlestick described in Les Misérables; rather, it resembled the intricate geometric designs typical of artifacts from Iran—a splendid blend of Arabesque artistry.

The cylindrical brass candlestick looked like a high antique. It seemed to belong to the times of the Timurids or the Safavids. The very pieces the art dealer in Tehran had showcased were reminiscent of this.

Not just the candlestick; every object present in this room was similar. They couldn’t be measured merely by the passage of time, belonging to objects that couldn’t be categorized by conventional standards. It felt as though artifacts from the Shizuya Museum and treasures preserved in the British Museum had been harshly crammed into this room.

However, none of it could compare to the woman before us.

This woman was a living museum in her own right.

—

A wisp of smoke wafted through the air, blending with the candlelight and allowing only glimpses of her face. The faint scent of roses and sweet sharbat hung in the atmosphere.

Upon a bed softened with silk as fine as baby’s down, the woman lay reclined.

– …Hoo.

With brown-tinged black hair and deep brown eyes, the woman possessed traits resonant with typical Arabic-Persian heritage, closer aligning with Mizrahi than Ashkenazi.

Alexandra Petrovna stepped forward. Approaching the foreign ruler lying on the bed.

At that moment…

“Welcome, Sasha. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The sorceress, who had lain still like a tree, opened her mouth—addressing an old friend visiting Shizuya.

Adding…

“I had been curious when you would finally arrive.”

Two images appeared in the rolling hazel-eyed gaze—one of a woman and one of a man.

With that, the woman offered a sweet smile.

The greatest sorceress of an era—the archmage who inscribed her name in the annals of history.

A powerful figure who rose from the valleys to the palace of the capital, or the legendary rebel who buried a grand dynasty in the sands of time.

And also, the Priest of Al-Yabd.

“At last, we’ve met.”

Zaynab Eskandari, the Priest of Al-Yabd, smiled at Camila and me.

Perhaps…

—

“……”

“……”

Camila, who had been paralyzed with fear, cautiously approached me and whispered in a voice barely above a murmur.

“Um, Frederick?”

“…Yes?”

“Who exactly is she looking at while speaking?”

Zaynab Eskandari, Priestess of Al-Yabd and the power behind Ashtistan.

She was mumbling to herself, having turned away from Camila and me at a 90-degree angle.

What the heck, why is she looking over there? I don’t know either. It’s terrifying as hell. Can you do something, please? Oh omnipotent Akarat, protect me with your eternal light, lead me with your holy wisdom… Can we just go home after this, professor? I promise to use only beautiful words…

As the murmurs continued, at that moment, the duke smacked his own forehead with a pained expression and shut his eyes tightly.

“Ah…”

The sight of a friend probably drawing on the walls (which is highly likely) elicited a sigh from the centenarian.

“Is it truly time for me to join my comrades?”