Ch.19Bikada Traveling Troupe (2)

Bikada swallowed hard as she saw Ortes suddenly standing before her.

Though flustered, it wasn’t unexpected. It was common knowledge that high-ranking mages had peculiar temperaments.

He had already warned of a surprise inspection, hadn’t he? One could even say he was better than those eccentric old monsters from the Magic Tower, as he at least appeared openly to announce the inspection’s commencement.

Those mages were unpredictable disasters who could rummage through the entire troupe without prior notice or reason.

“Now then, Director. Would you first show me each member’s room?”

“Yes…”

Ortes set aside the intimidating aura from their first meeting and displayed a somewhat gentlemanly attitude. Following the director’s guidance, he visited each member’s room, briefly sending the director outside while having one-on-one conversations with the members.

There was no sign of the magical interrogation methods Bikada had worried about.

‘Is he confident he can detect it just by looking? He might have an artifact that tracks Geryones’ magical signature…’

Ortes was thorough but not oppressive as he examined each room and person.

“Would you step outside for a moment?”

Once again, it was a request for the director to leave for a private interview with the room’s occupant.

“But this one is just an apprentice…”

Despite her mild protest, Ortes’ decision remained unchanged. Unable to further oppose him, Bikada quietly nodded.

“Listen, child. Tell him everything truthfully. Don’t hide anything!”

***

Most people in Bikada’s traveling troupe possessed the typical personality of mages in this era.

That meant they craved pleasure, were sadistic, and disregarded life.

Primitive mages not properly affiliated with a Magic Tower often indulged themselves recklessly, intoxicated by the power and ecstasy magic brought them—and most troupe members fit this description.

And now, the member I was facing…

“Um, what brings you here…?”

Was exactly the opposite.

A somewhat naive-looking face. Short brown hair and a small frame giving a youthful impression.

Well-groomed hair and flawless skin. No scars from classical drug injections, nor neural ports for electronic drug administration.

A human image quite different from the troupe’s overall atmosphere. That dissonance made me pause.

However, this alone wasn’t enough to confirm their identity.

Similarly, the trained lean muscles visible beneath what appeared to be an ordinary body could simply be working muscles developed from running errands for the troupe.

I opened my eyes slightly. Part of the function of these damnably heavy eyes allowed me to steal glimpses of hidden truths.

The flow of magic concealed beneath the skin became visible. I controlled my vision, which tried to illuminate all magical flows in the world, focusing instead on the subject before me.

I excluded the magical circuits that all humans possess. I searched for traces of artificial modification, not naturally occurring ones.

While controlling my wayward vision was difficult, finding traces of magic was simple.

Beneath those smoothly trained muscles, I glimpsed top-grade physical enhancements in every muscle fiber.

Not cheap enchantware that damages magical circuits with shoddy implants. This was premium quality—magic engraved directly into natural muscle fibers.

Modifications too expensive for someone at the level of a traveling troupe apprentice.

‘Huh. So it’s really here.’

A risk factor I hadn’t mentioned to Mekonion. The distinctive physical enhancement method of Blasphemia, the Ten Towers’ direct execution squad.

‘How should I use this one?’

Most Blasphemia members I’d encountered before were assassins targeting Karisia. They came knowing Karisia’s abilities or appearance, leaving no room for deception.

‘But the situation is different now.’

This person doesn’t know who I am, nor that Karisia is behind me.

I can definitely use this.

I opened my mouth.

***

“To think I’d meet a comrade in a place like this.”

“Comrade? What do you…?”

K17, a member of Blasphemia—planted by the Ten Towers to enlighten followers of superstition throughout the world—was bewildered by these sudden words.

The man before her was supposedly a high-ranking official from the Magic Tower who had recently appeared in this small city. He should have no connection to Blasphemia, which specialized in eradicating superstition.

An old acquaintance?

That couldn’t be. Before joining Blasphemia, she had been alone in a burned village, or so she’d been told. No hometown remained.

“Pleased to meet you, Pleshion. I am L13.”

Pleshion was the term Blasphemia members used to address each other, roughly translating to “comrade.” The concise codename consisting only of numbers and letters was also typical of Blasphemia.

K17 drew her knife against the man who had suddenly introduced himself as L13. It took less than a second for her to pull out the dagger hidden near her thigh and point it at his throat.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen this too. Our ceremonial weapon, isn’t it? Anti-magical equipment forged in the Silver Iron Tower.”

“Shut up.”

As K17 tried to press the blade deeper with a hushed voice, the man placed his finger on the tip and slowly pushed the blade away.

“I know. This violates our confidentiality oath. But Pleshion, listen.”

“Do you realize how many of our oaths you’ve already broken? Take your own life and preserve your honor!”

With an unwavering smile, he pulled up a chair from the room and casually sat down. His demeanor showed no sign of wariness or hostility.

K17 felt a sense of deflation at his defenseless appearance. How could he be so relaxed? How blasphemous to abandon the great mission entrusted by the Ten Towers!

“Please, sit down first. I go by the name Ortes here. And you?”

“…Niobe.”

“Pleased to meet you, Niobe. It must be tough for fellow Pleshion working in foreign lands?”

“Tough? Says the one who’s secured a position in a Magic Tower?”

Niobe glared at Ortes incredulously. From her perspective, Ortes was a blasphemer who had betrayed the Ten Towers’ mission to live comfortably in a provincial Magic Tower.

“Listen carefully. I have my circumstances. Even if you return to Blasphemia headquarters and search for my serial number, you won’t find it.”

Ortes began an old story. Starting with a very old order to investigate Kaicle of the Phytos Magic Tower, who was suspected of being a superstition follower.

A chronology of old incidents flashed through Niobe’s mind. Kaicle…

“That was decades ago!”

“I followed Kaicle to this city, but failed to draw him out of seclusion. Yet, wouldn’t it be against our principles to leave a genius who had passed through two of the Ten Towers unattended?”

He recounted the operations he had conducted over decades to lure out Kaicle. Hacking the Phytos Magic Tower, providing covert support to Lernian or Geryones.

“Who do you think spread rumors about artificial Ten Commandments in this city long ago?”

Despite all these operations, Kaicle never appeared.

“I had no choice but to request a return to headquarters. About a dozen years ago.”

“During that time…”

Ortes nodded gravely.

“There was that crime committed by the most radical follower we failed to capture.”

The Mage of Lightning, once designated as Blasphemia’s highest priority target for elimination.

For years, this mage clashed with Blasphemia, leaving massive scars across the organization, and was never captured.

It was said that Blasphemia’s elite forces met a tragic end in the Desert of Screams, but no bodies were ever found.

“The branch I sent my return request to was one of those destroyed in that chaos. There was no way I’d get a reply.”

“So. You’ve been continuing your original mission in Etna City all this time?”

“Exactly. With no response from headquarters, I assumed I should just continue what I was doing. I only learned about those tragic events recently.”

The repeated attempts to lure out Kaicle gradually escalated in scale until it eventually led to establishing an entire Magic Tower. Ortes’ explanation seemed absurd, but…

‘It makes sense!’

Niobe herself had been recruited after Blasphemia’s personnel were drastically reduced due to the Mage of Lightning incident.

Even now, Blasphemia hadn’t fully rebuilt, and it was common for members on missions in remote areas to be confused when their reporting branches disappeared.

Though the timeframe was rather long, it wasn’t impossible.

“I’ve now lost all means of contacting headquarters. So please, would you contact them on my behalf?”

“Um, well…”

Niobe hesitated. She had her own mission to fulfill.

As she pondered, she suddenly realized something strange.

“Wait. How did you know I was Blasphemia?”

***

She asks the most troublesome question. What should I tell Niobe? After brief consideration, I decided to mix truth with lies.

“Because I know our organization well. Niobe, aren’t you infiltrating this Bikada Traveling Troupe to verify if they’re Bacchus followers?”

“…That’s right.”

“I expected that Blasphemia would naturally dispatch a Pleshion to monitor those engaging in such superstitious practices. And a Pleshion would maintain an upright spirit even in the midst of such pleasure and decadence.”

My answer included knowledge of Blasphemia’s behavioral patterns, along with flattery directed at Niobe personally.

I do know quite a few Blasphemia signs, but with various events, those signs might have been changed.

While a mage’s age can’t be determined by appearance, Niobe’s behavior clearly indicated she was quite inexperienced—a rookie.

A rookie who hadn’t received proper mental training. A proper Blasphemia agent wouldn’t have disguised themselves in such a way that created such dissonance.

This one, with more humanity than typical Blasphemia agents, would surely appreciate this answer that satisfied the typical rookie’s desire for recognition.

***

“Hmm, hmm!”

Niobe nodded. It was a pure joy difficult to obtain among those who indulged in drugs every night and satisfied their sadistic sexual desires with androids.

“Yes! I’ve been trying not to forget my duty as Blasphemia even in this pit of decadence. I really tried!”

The pleasure of being recognized by a senior in the same field dulled Niobe’s thinking.

A seasoned Blasphemia agent might have detected the implication in Ortes’ words that “being able to recognize her upright spirit” meant “she failed to disguise herself properly,” but…

“That’s impressive. This seems to be your first mission…”

“Yes, it’s my first… Someday I too might become a Purifier of the Ten Towers!”

Niobe was merely a novice who had just completed her training.

Watching Niobe’s naive demeanor, Ortes was confident of success.

‘Blasphemia is one of the organizations with the most information about divinity. Therefore.’

They were the most suitable people to use for tracking sacred artifacts.