A Dark Fantasy Spy

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Veronica said.

The Magic Tower would soon grant the agrement.

“The agrement issue will be resolved shortly.”

In a situation where a fierce three-way struggle was unfolding between the Magic Tower, the Cult, and the Empire, the saint of the Cult, once a lobbyist for the Empire, spoke with conviction.

I asked her, “How is that possible?”

“Umm….”

Veronica trailed off with a faint smile. After a moment, she abruptly stated with a strange expression.

“Public opinion warfare…?”

—

Episode 5 – Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

The Minister said.

“The Cult has signaled its intent to actively resolve the diplomatic issue, Prime Minister.”

“…Hmm.”

While Frederick was briefing Veronica, a meeting was in full swing at the Prime Minister’s Residence.

Listening intently to the Foreign Minister, the Prime Minister finally spoke up.

“Really? What do they plan to do?”

“…I’m afraid I can’t provide detailed information, Prime Minister.”

The Foreign Minister defended himself politely, asserting that he didn’t know because information hadn’t been disclosed, not because of incompetence.

Then, the head of the national intelligence agency, the Royal Information Department Chief, cautiously opened his mouth.

“I’ve confirmed, through local intelligence assets, that the Cult’s diplomat entered the Imperial Guard HQ’s safe house.”

“…Is that so?”

“It’s still in the realm of speculation, but we believe the Cult will collaborate with the Empire to pressure the Magic Tower. In addition to the economic sanctions announced this time, further measures are expected to follow.”

The situation had an ironic feel, rather than being merely a report.

While the Foreign Ministry was completely lost and the minister was flustered, the Royal Information Department presented its own speculations based on the information it had gathered and analyzed.

Thus, it was more of a power struggle than a simple report.

That was the intention of the Royal Information Department Chief; the thoughts of the flustered Foreign Minister in front of the Prime Minister echoed that sentiment, and the Prime Minister watched it all unfold as a competition between departments.

A smile spread across the Prime Minister’s face.

He felt pleased to receive a report that would aid in policy decisions, but his political calculation leaned more towards reinforcing the power of the Information Department to keep the Foreign Ministry in check. Therefore, the Prime Minister smiled.

“Ha ha. As expected of the Information Department. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you.”

“…….”

The Royal Information Department Chief, having no intention of blatantly shaking the rattle in such a crowded place, offered a brief thank you, while the Foreign Minister, who found the senior man rather unpleasant today, awkwardly smiled.

It wasn’t so much a genuine smile.

“Well, it seems the Cult will resolve the agrement issue, so let’s set that aside for a moment….”

The Prime Minister maintained his smile as he smoothly changed the topic.

And then he let out a string of cursed words.

“What do we do about those magical freaks?”

—

“What do you mean public opinion warfare? Are you referring to psychological warfare or political manipulation?”

“Is it really necessary to use such formal expressions?”

It was said to avoid getting too caught up in terminology.

While terminology was important, this wasn’t the time for nitpicking, so I let it slide for now.

At my signal, Veronica began her explanation.

She swept her silky hair aside and started talking.

“First, the situation is very complicated right now, right?”

“Yes.”

A diplomatic battle was underway involving the Magic Tower, the Empire, and the Cult.

Diplomacy doesn’t necessarily occur only in the public eye; much happens in the shadows as well.

Just like how a tsunami starts far beneath the ocean’s surface, the first signs of diplomatic problems don’t emerge above the water but below it.

Veronica emphasized this part.

“This situation we’re witnessing now isn’t something that just popped up out of nowhere, whether it’s independence or the rejection of the agrement.”

“…….”

“It’s like a festering wound bursting like a pimple….”

Veronica insisted that this entire situation had been anticipated for a long time, a type that could have been predicted adequately.

I had no counterarguments; indeed, that was the case.

The Magic Tower’s ambition for independence. The choice to send diplomatic envoys to a country in a state of a diplomatic rift. A country historically and politically antagonistic.

Veronica pointed that part out.

“Do you really think the Cult didn’t see this coming?”

The saint of the Cult, once a lobbyist for the Empire, claimed that the Cult was behind all this chaos. She argued that they intentionally provided the thread that caused this outcome and held the keys to leadership and solutions.

I summarized her claim in one word.

“It’s a conspiracy theory.”

Veronica’s argument was literally a conspiracy theory. It was a claim patched together with weak evidence, and it was borderline malicious how it somewhat fit together.

“This is an excessively biased judgment. I’ll admit it’s alluring, but I don’t believe it’s reasonable information.”

True. Just because someone is competent doesn’t guarantee success. Apparently, this time Veronica failed in her intelligence gathering.

I wasn’t doubting her abilities. The intelligence Veronica provided had nearly a 100 percent accuracy rate, and each piece was critical.

However, given the circumstances, I couldn’t trust her word casually. After all, someone had died.

With the three groups rushing toward the cliff, all governments and intelligence agencies were in disarray. She might have been swept along in it too.

“Anyway, I appreciate your insights. If something more productive comes up, please contact me. I’ll take my leave now….”

Just as I was about to head back to the hotel room, Veronica’s voice drifted from behind.

“…Why are there suddenly two saints?”

—

The term magical freaks was highly inappropriate to bring up in an official setting. It was something so derogatory that even in private settings, one would hesitate to speak it.

It’s akin to how the President of South Korea wouldn’t refer to North Korea as “reds,” China as “chinks,” or Japan as “clowns” in a state meeting. Certainly, ordinary citizens wouldn’t either. Unless one were very close friends, such language was best reserved for when only behind a keyboard.

It was a crude and strong term to bring up. So the Prime Minister’s recent comments were exactly the sort of statement that would land him in hot water if the transcripts got leaked. There were plenty of wizards in Abas too.

What that meant was that he was burning up to the point where he would utter words capable of jeopardizing his political life. After all, he was in danger of derailing the economic policies he had promised, so that reaction was only to be expected.

Thus, everyone present instinctively sensed it. The Prime Minister had completely lost his temper.

In other words, the Prime Minister was seriously considering going after the Magic Tower at any opportunity.

The Foreign Minister, grasping the Prime Minister’s intentions, quickly spoke up.

“How about trying an independent economic sanction?”

The Foreign Ministry proposed economic sanctions.

“What profit do we gain from trade with the Empire and the Cult? If we proceed with economic sanctions, we might turn crisis into opportunity.”

It was suggesting aligning with the Cult against the Empire.

With the two already gearing up against the Magic Tower, there was now justification for rejecting the agrement. It was literally time to beat up on the nerdy kid with a bat.

In fact, the benefits obtained by maintaining trade with both nations represented a significant proportion, making the Foreign Minister’s opinion quite valid.

“Just a moment.”

“…What is it, Chief?”

“That isn’t an appropriate measure given the situation.”

The Royal Information Department Chief shot down the Foreign Minister’s proposal.

The grizzled veteran in the intelligence sector began rebutting cautiously.

“Aren’t the Magic Tower and us on similar paths? It doesn’t look good for democratic nations to attack one another.”

No, this gentleman seemed confused. The Magic Tower isn’t an autocratic regime. We also style ourselves a constitutional monarchy liberal democracy; what do you think the Empire and the Cult will say if we turn on the Magic Tower—

Thus, the Royal Information Department Chief explained his point indirectly.

“The Empire and Cult are both absolute monarchies and theocratic states, right? While the Empire nominally has a parliament, due to the political oppression by the monarchy, the opposition party cannot exert any power. If we impose sanctions on the Magic Tower, won’t we just become the laughingstock?”

It was a subtle word of criticism suggesting that the Foreign Minister failed to recognize the tides of time.

The Royal Information Department Chief didn’t stop there; he even brought up statements made by the Emperor during his founding speech 12 years ago, explaining ‘101 reasons why we shouldn’t impose sanctions on the Magic Tower.’

It was a clear case of the intelligence agency overstepping its authority to criticize the foreign policy, but who cared? That was just how the times were.

Thus, the Royal Information Department Chief verbally flattened the Foreign Minister with his sharp remarks. No, it wasn’t actual fighting, but more like a verbal brawl.

However, the Foreign Minister, who hadn’t been appointed just for show, quickly countered.

“If we go against the Cult and the Empire’s current trajectory here, are you suggesting we are okay with war? Let’s just make our citizens starve to death instead, shall we? So they can become mere cannon fodder?”

“What a ridiculous suggestion! Have you lost your wits? Ha ha…”

The Foreign Minister’s fiery response caught the Royal Information Department Chief off guard.

“Unfounded criticism without suggesting alternatives isn’t critique, it’s merely spite. Does the Information Department have any solutions to navigate this predicament?”

It was just as the Foreign Minister asked his question, the Royal Information Department Chief was about to respond.

“I do.”

An elderly man in military attire from the opposite seat replied.

All eyes turned toward him, while the Foreign Minister was visibly taken aback.

“Director…?”

The Military Intelligence Agency Chief.

“Do you have some clever plan? It doesn’t seem we need military intervention at this level of intensity.”

The implication was that the military should butt out. The Foreign Minister worried it might be a sign that the military was about to start a war.

“Ah, just a moment.”

The Royal Information Department Chief hurriedly sought to regain the floor; after all, the one who speaks first generally takes control.

However.

“Please hold on a moment, Chief.”

“…….”

The Prime Minister, who had been quietly listening, stepped in to prevent the Royal Information Department Chief from speaking again.

It was a belittling mannerism, but since the Prime Minister held the power to appoint the Chief, he had to let go of the microphone.

Seeing this, the Prime Minister smiled gently.

“Ha ha. Thank you for your consideration, Chief. Now, Director? You may speak. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

The Military Intelligence Agency Chief scanned the room once. Locking eyes with the Royal Information Department Chief, he cautiously began.

“I don’t think we need to go as far as imposing economic sanctions.”

“Please elaborate. We’re listening.”

And just like that, a bombshell dropped in the meeting room.

“The Magic Tower has violated the Nastasiya Treaty.”

—

In the hotel corridor, under the tight security of police and the Inquisition, two people faced each other.

A soldier asked a religious person.

“…What do you mean? Why are there two saints?”

The priest of this world spoke to a spy from another realm.

“It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Everything.”

The nun-clad priest slowly advanced. The sharply dressed spy followed the priest’s footsteps with his gaze.

“Why would the Empire support the Cult, why would the Magic Tower refuse the agrement, why would there be two saints….”

“…….”

“Where does it all start?”

“From the independence of the Magic Tower—”

“Then why would the Magic Tower seek independence?”

His steps came to a halt.

A moment of silence passed. The religious person raised his head to look at the soldier, and the spy, mulling over the scenario, replied.

“…Because the authority of the Empire has been undermined.”

“Then what caused that diminished authority?”

“…….”

No one present was ignorant of the reason.

And thus, the parties involved spoke up.

“…Assassination. More precisely, a failure of internal control due to loss of command resulting in terrorism.”

“I see. So, did the Cult really not realize this would happen? Especially the Pope, who is wary of the Magic Tower?”

The saint stated.

“In my view, the agrement was caught in the crossfire while Lucia was taking hits. Abas also played a part in bringing down the Magic Tower, after all. It’s been decades, but still.”

The signing of the Nastasiya Treaty.

The diplomatic relations cancellation between the Magic Tower and the Cult and the failure of formal state recognition.

The Empire’s oppression of the Magic Tower’s independence.

The decades-long ongoing Inquisition underneath.

All that external pressure led to the Magic Tower growing into a financial hub.

The fallen prestige of the Empire.

The decline of the authority of religion thanks to the advancements in science and magic.

The Cult attempting to insert itself into the Magic Tower using Camila as leverage.

Unintentionally, the saint stands before that march.

The world’s first two saints are born on the continent.

Saint of the Cult, Lucia.

“……”

As I reached that thought, it felt like the part that had been stuck melted away, like the final puzzle piece slotting into place.

Then, the operative asked.

“…Whose doing is this?”

“Probably Raphael’s. The Pope is likely behind it.”

Raphael.

A former Inquisition Director who claimed he would create a safe Cult. He hadn’t been elected long ago. Thus, it was now the period of political transition for the Cult.

A freshly minted leader grasping alive power pushes forward with tough policies to gain policy momentum. Sometimes, it’s actions that must be taken in that timing.

And now, the Pope was fervently driving the narrative of killing wizards by calling them dark magicians.

So then.

To create a safe Cult.

To elevate the authority of religion.

To reclaim the greatness of the Cult.

Who must they first take down?

The answer is,

“…the Magic Tower.”

Just take off the heads of those pesky little bastards.

Finally receiving clarity, Veronica beamed at me.

“You asked how we’re going to take down the Magic Tower, right?”

“…….”

The saint smiled.

“Every war begins with propaganda.”