Ch.243Episode 12 – The Strongest Mage in History

The core of this negotiation revolves around the black market.

It’s Hormoz’s vital interest and what Francesca wants to get her hands on.

From a ‘diplomat’s’ perspective, the best option would be to accept Hormoz’s demands.

Making Francesca withdraw from the black market and instead receiving continuous information sharing from Hormoz would be beneficial, especially considering the diplomatic damage that would come if Francesca’s activities were exposed.

However, from an ‘intelligence officer’s’ standpoint, Hormoz’s proposal isn’t particularly welcome.

First, there’s the issue of reliability.

While it would be appreciated if Hormoz, who has been operating in the north for years, shared information, the reliability and validity of the intelligence he provides is another matter entirely.

If Hormoz’s information turns out to be worthless—chaff, as they say—we’ll end up empty-handed.

Then there’s the relationship with Francesca.

Francesca wants to take over the black market. I connected her with Viktor, but Francesca prepared almost all the goods and transportation. She used her experience as an administrator in the Magic Tower’s Economic Management Department to secure contraband and prepared ships and forged documents to help the smuggled goods evade law enforcement.

Making unnecessary stops at different ports, replacing ship permits at each stop, bribes for sailors and customs officials, plus transportation costs.

My friend Viktor provided some funding, but most of the expenses came out of Francesca’s pocket.

What would happen if she were forced to shut down her business before recovering her investment?

For field intelligence officers, maintaining relationships with informants is a crucial virtue.

From an intelligence officer’s perspective, Francesca making money isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Income earned from side jobs approved by the company can go into the intelligence officer’s pocket or be added to operation funds. If I can make even a little money through Francesca, I have no reason to stand in her way.

So for me, catching both rabbits—information and money—would be the best option.

The only question that remains is:

Is there a way to satisfy both Hormoz and Francesca simultaneously?

I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

“Deputy Chief. I’d like to meet with Mr. Hormoz.”

I made my way into the tent in the desert.

Episode 12 – The Most Powerful Magician Ever

The desert created by spatial transformation magic is wider than I imagined.

Dunes flowing like rivers. Sandy beaches stretching to the horizon where sky meets earth. The galaxy adorning the dark blue night sky and a gently burning campfire. Such intricate magic that it’s hard to believe this is just an empty, abandoned building in the ruins.

A large, majestic cream-colored tent sits at the center of this world built with magic symbolizing the Magic Tower’s glorious past.

Hormoz was waiting for me there.

“Welcome, Military Attaché.”

Hormoz, who had been resting, gestured politely to a seat. I sat down on the cushion prepared for guests.

“Meow.”

Suddenly, a cat appeared out of nowhere.

The cat, with glossy white fur and sapphire-blue eyes, walked across the carpet with such noble grace that if it were human, it would undoubtedly be aristocracy.

I realized it was the same cat I’d seen when I first encountered Hormoz.

After letting out a small meow, the cat swished its tail and settled in the middle of the tent. The white cat curled up, licked its lips, and basked in the warmth of the campfire.

“What a beautiful cat.”

While I was gazing at the cat, Hormoz addressed me. He prepared teacups for both of us and asked after my well-being.

“Did you rest well?”

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality.”

Seated on the cushion, I lightly broached the main topic.

“I’ve come to mediate the situation before we begin our formal discussion. That’s why I came alone, without the Administrator.”

“Mediate?”

Hormoz raised his eyebrows questioningly, with a hint of surprise in his reaction.

I nodded.

“Since both parties are at a sharp impasse, I believe mediation is necessary for an amicable resolution. The Administrator agreed as well.”

“…Mediation.”

Hormoz set down the teapot and let out a murmur that sounded almost like a groan.

“How can mediation be possible when neither the Administrator nor I have any intention of backing down?”

It was a strange question, mixed with concern and skepticism. This was both a declaration that he would never back down and a question about how I could possibly mediate between two people competing for the black market.

To this, I wiggled my finger as if pointing at Hormoz and said:

“Conflict is bad for business, Mr. Hormoz. Conflict and war are separated by a hair’s breadth.”

Conflict is bad for business.

A certain level of competition tends to benefit business. Imitating the strengths of successful competitors, fixing one’s own flaws.

Competition that drives one to constantly improve to be better than yesterday and superior to others becomes one of the driving forces of growth.

But when competition turns into conflict, the story changes.

Excessive competition causes bleeding, and this often goes beyond undermining the opponent and becomes harmful. Especially in a market with limited pie, this tendency becomes even more pronounced.

To this, the owner of the Palm Tree Trading Company expressed agreement.

“I agree. Fighting is always harmful.”

Hormoz nodded as he quoted what I had said.

Using someone else’s expressions is one of the oldest rhetorical techniques.

It helps reduce the psychological distance between speaker and listener, creates a positive impression, and helps build rapport, which is why intelligence officers often use this method.

I smiled brightly and gave a slight bow.

“Thank you for understanding, Mr. Hormoz.”

Hormoz picked up the teapot and filled his cup. Just as he was about to pour tea into my cup:

“Ah, just a moment.”

I stopped Hormoz’s action.

“Do you have milk instead of tea?”

“Milk?”

“Milk from sheep.”

Hormoz is a Dark Elf from the Saria tribe. Like Bedouins, Dark Elves are nomads who keep various livestock, including sheep.

The yogurt sent from the Saria tribe is made from sheep’s milk. Fresh milk is placed in leather pouches and shaken for half a day according to tribal tradition.

I ordered the original form—milk—and Hormoz gladly accepted my request.

“Mmm.”

The milk shipped directly from the Mauritanian continent was very fresh.

After downing the generously provided milk in one go, I expressed my appreciation with a sound of satisfaction.

“The milk tastes excellent. I can tell how healthy the Saria sheep are without even seeing them.”

I put down the empty milk cup and wiped my mouth with a handkerchief.

“Now, Mr. Hormoz. In this beautiful tent you’ve provided, I’ve discussed the minor dispute over the black market with the Administrator. Like you, she doesn’t want this conflict to continue.”

“That’s welcome news.”

“War doesn’t help business. No one likes war, do they?”

Hormoz smiled as if he’d heard something he was glad to hear.

“Not unless it’s about money. Dark Elves love money more than anything in the world. Or more precisely, gold.”

“I like money too. And I’m sure the Administrator loves it as well.”

We all share the common trait of loving money, including Francesca who isn’t present here.

There’s no one in the world who dislikes money.

Even I, as an intelligence officer, am no exception.

Patriotism? Of course, it’s an important virtue for intelligence officers. But the costs incurred by intelligence officers during operations—for clothing, food, drink, and lodging—aren’t free. The operational funds are provided by intelligence agencies, which come from special activity budgets set annually by the parliamentary intelligence committee.

So if money earned externally can fund operations, both the intelligence agency and parliament would be pleased. Notable examples include the CIA caught selling drugs, Russian intelligence agencies caught selling weapons in the Middle East, and North Korean reds whose accounts were frozen after being caught not only earning operational funds but also slush funds for intelligence agency directors.

The examples are a bit strange, but anyway, let’s move on.

What’s important is what comes next.

“If we each make small concessions, all issues surrounding the black market can be easily resolved. So, Mr. Hormoz.”

“……”

“Would you be willing to give up a small portion of your share in the northern black market?”

*

Inside the desert tent, there were only Hormoz and me.

Neither Francesca nor the Deputy Chief was present, so only we participated in the conversation, and without any interruptions, we could focus more on each other.

Perhaps that’s why the silence feels particularly vivid today.

“……”

Silence fell with my request for him to give up a share of the northern black market. Hormoz sank into deep silence, and I just stared at him.

Since there were only two of us, it was relatively easy to gauge each other’s intentions, but when the other person closes their mouth and stops talking, an uncomfortable silence inevitably follows. I waited for Hormoz’s response in the uncomfortable silence, along with the cat that was swishing its tail.

It was about seven minutes later when the Dark Elf finally spoke.

“…Concession.”

Hormoz, who had been silent for a long time, murmured softly.

“I wonder why I should make any concessions.”

I laughed as if finding it absurd and retorted:

“I’m curious why you’re asking when you already know the reason.”

There’s only one reason why Hormoz, who had been lukewarm about the demand to sell information, arranged this meeting today.

“Aren’t you afraid of the Military Government Command?”

“……”

Hormoz had not sold information for a considerable time.

At that time, he might not have acquired the information yet, or he might have been unsure whether the information would harm the trading company, but in any case, Hormoz maintained his silence.

The timing is crucial. The timing when Hormoz broke his silence.

He contacted us immediately after the Military Government Command’s crackdown operation ended.

I placed my hand on my chest as if I understood.

“Of course, I fully understand your position, Mr. Hormoz. The military police, who hadn’t conducted any crackdowns for nearly five years, suddenly rounded up and executed criminals. You must have been very concerned.”

“They weren’t just ordinary criminals.”

“Yes, they were smugglers. And connected to the black market at that.”

From Hormoz’s perspective, it must have been chilling.

A criminal organization connected to the black market, just like his, was completely wiped out.

What’s important is that the Military Government Command moved the military police, and Francesca and I are attached to it.

Hormoz probably thinks that we requested the Military Government Command to eliminate them. Every action he’s shown and word he’s spoken has been tinged with such suspicion.

At first glance, the Military Government Command’s crackdown operation seemed like an intimidating show of force, but Hormoz’s courage seemed greater than I thought.

He responded with a very confident attitude.

“I’m not afraid of the Imperial Army’s crackdowns.”

It might sound like bravado, but Hormoz’s demeanor was too confident to dismiss it as mere bravado or groundless confidence.

As if he was certain he could evade the crackdowns.

Sure enough, Hormoz dropped an interesting piece of information.

“The Northern Army’s deployment is concentrated on the frontlines. A significant number of internal troops are positioned at the defense line in the Naroda Mountains. I believe it would be difficult for the military police alone to simultaneously maintain military discipline and public order.”

“…Oh, you’re quite well-informed.”

I shifted to a more comfortable posture, pretending to be contemplative.

“It seems your backer is close to the military.”

“……”

I briefly reviewed the relationship between the Military Government Command and the Imperial Ministry of Defense.

The Military Government Command is an institution that handles military activities, judicial activities, and administrative tasks in the northern region. It was established based on martial law and is currently commanded by Military Governor Mikhail.

The Imperial Ministry of Defense is the superior agency to the Military Government Command, responsible for personnel transfers of military government officers, approval of major operations, deployment and supervision of military units. The Military Government Command moves according to the orders of the Imperial Ministry of Defense while also being guaranteed a certain degree of autonomy.

Why? Because the military can’t keep holding onto martial law areas indefinitely.

The Kiyen Empire is a country with vast territory rivaling Russia, and the Imperial Ministry of Defense in Petrograd commands the forces of five military districts: East, West, South, North, and Central. This means they can’t focus solely on the North even if they want to.

So while the Imperial Ministry of Defense understands the flow, they don’t grasp all the details. More precisely, the department dedicated to the North compiles reports submitted by the Military Government Command and delivers them to the General Staff and the Minister of Defense.

I know this because I frequented the Imperial Ministry of Defense for over a week. When I asked the General Staff officers, they said even they don’t know everything.

In other words, Hormoz’s backing isn’t the Military Government Command but the military.

More precisely, he has connections to the central Ministry of Defense and the General Staff.

If he had backing in the Military Government Command, he wouldn’t have contacted us. If Military Governor Mikhail had no intention of continuing the crackdown operation, and if Hormoz had a straw in the military government, he wouldn’t have been unaware of this.

“Well, people from the central government would know about troop deployment status. The Military Government has to submit reports for offensive operations planning.”

“……”

“But I doubt someone from the military is your backer.”

Despite the clear hierarchical relationship between the Ministry of Defense and the Military Government Command, there’s no one in the military who would back Hormoz’s business.

In the Imperial Army’s organization, generals are divided into five ranks.

Brigadier General, Major General, Lieutenant General, Colonel General, and General. This distorted rank structure emerged as numerous generals were produced during Emperor Nikolai VI’s push to strengthen the military.

The military initially celebrated this, but after encountering various problems with pension payments, promotion procedures, and position transfers, they hastily revised the rank system. As a result, the Imperial Army currently has four general ranks: Major General, Lieutenant General, Colonel General, and General.

Within the Empire, Colonel General is the highest rank a uniformed soldier can attain. The rank of General is only given to top military leadership like the Minister of Defense or the Chief of the General Staff.

And Military Governor Mikhail holds the rank of Colonel General.

Even if you search the Ministry of Defense, there are hardly any officers with the rank of Colonel General, so who would dare back a smuggler in Mikhail’s territory? Especially in the North, which is under the scrutiny of both the Emperor and the Crown Prince?

It’s absolutely impossible. Even another Colonel General would have to be cautious if they didn’t want their entire family to face execution.

“Your backing must be outside the military, not inside. A high-ranking official connected to generals but not a soldier themselves. Either a political figure or a noble. Perhaps among the nobles who fled before martial law was declared.”

“……”

“Let’s see…”

I slowly counted the number of northern nobles.

“Among the powerful families in the North, there were marquis and count families, along with several baron families. The marquis was a former military general, making him the most likely candidate, but he died several years ago due to illness, and his remaining children are in their early twenties to thirties.”

The marquis family is out.

“There are a couple of count families too, but they’re civilian officials, not military. They were local government officials or city councilors, so they wouldn’t have connections to the central government. Besides, the northern military units that might have deep ties with them have been stationed here since martial law was declared.”

The count families are out too.

“Then perhaps the barons? Probably not. Like the counts, they’re natives of the North. There might be central nobles related to them by blood, but even all of them combined couldn’t support you and the Palm Tree Trading Company.”

Smuggling is by no means an easy crime. It may appear frequently in dramas, movies, and news, but smuggling is a more difficult business than it seems.

First, you need contacts who can supply goods cheaply from abroad, extensive connections to avoid customs and police crackdowns, and continuous bribes to feed these connections.

For reference, while most of the items Hormoz deals with can be obtained within the Empire, some come from across the sea, from the East or the Mauritanian continent. Even if Hormoz’s connections handle those suppliers, bringing them into the Empire and then to the North is no easy task.

That’s why I specifically brought in Francesca and Viktor for this job. Even with the two of them, it wasn’t enough, so I had to move directly.

Therefore, to be Hormoz’s backer, one would need to be a noble of considerable size or a political figure. In the Empire, high-ranking nobles often serve as both politicians and officials, so they’re essentially the same.

For example, like those nobles who were purged after collaborating with reactionaries from the Imperial Guard.

I waved my hand, recalling those not-so-pleasant old days.

“Of course, the Empire has many other factions due to its long history, but let’s skip that for now. You wouldn’t want this conversation to drag on, would you, Mr. Hormoz?”

I straightened my posture, grinning.

Hormoz’s eyes had grown cold from the moment I started speaking. The corners of his mouth, which had always been turned up in a relaxed smile, were now down, and he wore an expressionless face instead of his usual gentle smile. Had he lost his composure? I thought that might be the case.

After adjusting my posture, I stared directly into his cold golden eyes.

And I asked him this question:

“Mr. Hormoz. You’re familiar with the customs of hospitality, aren’t you?”

Hormoz nodded gravely.

I explained the customs of hospitality to the merchant of nomadic origin.

“As a nomad, you probably know better than I do, but in the customs of hospitality, what’s important is the consideration between host and guest.”

A host protects the guest they’ve welcomed into their home under any circumstances.

A guest respects the host who has accepted them and doesn’t do anything that would harm the host.

The customs of hospitality are principles that nomads have upheld for thousands of years to protect life and honor, which is more important than life itself. I posed a question to Hormoz, who comes from a nomadic tribe.

“According to ancient tradition, as your guest, I cannot harm you, my host. Similarly, I shouldn’t do anything that would harm you.”

“That’s correct.”

“Then let me ask you this: Are the things I’m doing now harmful to you, Mr. Hormoz?”

“Depending on how you interpret it, they could be.”

“Mr. Hormoz.”

I looked straight into Hormoz’s eyes.

“I’m not asking about future events or possibilities. I’m asking if my current actions are harmful to your life and honor.”

“……”

“Of course, if I were to take over your business or seek out your backers, I would be violating the custom. But I have no such intention. Do you know why?”

Hormoz picked up on what I had said earlier.

“Because conflict is harmful to business.”

“Exactly!”

I sat comfortably with a smile.

“Actually, I’ve met many people like you. Nomadic tribes. People who value honor more than their own lives.”

The vast desert. A van crossing unpaved roads and a noisy radio. A warlord’s checkpoint armed with ex-Soviet military gear and rifles. Me facing the commander leading that warlord.

Though it’s been well over 28 years, I remember it as vividly as if it were yesterday. The few years I spent in the Middle East were more special than any other posting, be it Russia, China, Latin America, or Southeast Asia.

In fact, the Middle East is where I spent most of my time.

I learned some Arabic languages thanks to a junior from Hankuk University of Foreign Studies and was trying to transfer to an office job, but suddenly, the higher-ups stuck me in North Africa. I thought I was going crazy at the time.

I recalled those memories.

“Of course, honor is most important for survival in the desert. The honor of the tribe, the honor of the father, one’s own honor. That’s why when a fight breaks out, you fight fair and square rather than assassinate, to not tarnish your honor. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s right.”

“But I don’t want to do that.”

I spread my arms wide, gesturing to the desert tent.

“Is there any need to fight and throw all these comfortable, good things into a fiery pit? Money spent is money spent; fighting bloodily won’t bring it back.”

Back to the main point.

“Returning to the main point, conflict doesn’t help business. If Mr. Hormoz and the Administrator start fighting, many things will change. The Palm Tree Trading Company might be the winner, or the Magic Tower might be, but what’s important is that something will change.”

Let me give an example.

“Let’s say the Administrator defeats you, Mr. Hormoz. The black market would fall into her hands, and she would start raking in money.”

“I suppose so.”

“But she won’t be able to make money right away. The Administrator would have lost a lot in the fight against you.”

Even if she defeats Hormoz and takes over the northern black market, she can’t make money immediately.

Setting aside the damage Francesca would sustain or the hostility from merchants with deep ties to Hormoz, from the moment the war starts, no one would be able to sell anything on the black market.

The key to smuggling lies in inventory disposal. Undisposed contraband is just junk that fills police quotas.

From Francesca’s perspective, who has invested in the business, she wouldn’t want the goods to rot in Viktor’s warehouse.

The same goes for Hormoz, who has been active in the North for years.

“Let’s assume the conflict continues for about three months. What would happen?”

“……”

“Some people would die, a few warehouses would burn down. If the other side puts out goods, they’d try to seize them by any means necessary. Animals may recognize their masters, but goods belong to everyone, right? They’d probably steal and sell them.”

I paused for a beat to focus attention.

And then.

“But here’s the thing.”

I asked Hormoz with a gesture of genuine curiosity:

“Would the Military Government Command just stand by and watch?”

“……”

“Probably not.”

While Military Governor Mikhail has no intention of continuing the crackdown operation, the story changes if a disturbance breaks out.

The Military Government Command would try to suppress criminals who commit murder, arson, and looting to maintain public order, and in this process, high levels of force would inevitably be deployed.

Everything is difficult the first time.

And the Military Government Command has accomplished that difficult task. In a very ruthless and clean manner.

“Then both sides would die. The clergy would be busy. A day wouldn’t be enough to pray over all the corpses.”

“So what should be done?”

“Concessions.”

I tapped the floor with my finger.

“If both sides make concessions through negotiation, there won’t be a problem. Wouldn’t it be fine to define territories, restrict items, or fix prices?”

“Then our trading company’s profits would decrease.”

Hormoz shook his head. It was truly a Dark Elf-like stubbornness.

“Just as two suns cannot rise in the sky, two trading companies cannot exist in the black market. I have no choice but to compete with the Administrator for many interests while sharing the black market.”

“……”

“This is just a stopgap measure.”

The owner of the Palm Tree Trading Company said.

“If I accept your proposal today, it will surely become a problem in the future.”

“Even after the conflict with the Magic Realm ends, the black market will still exist. As infrastructure is rebuilt, national projects are implemented, and many companies move in, numerous people will flock here. The black market will grow. Won’t that naturally resolve the issue?”

“If the black market grows, other organizations will also flock in. If we don’t hold the initiative in the black market now, the Palm Tree Trading Company, as an outsider, will inevitably be pushed out in competition with local organizations.”

“Ah.”

So it’s a long-term play.

Now I see that Hormoz is operating the trading company from a long-term perspective. So that he can continue to reign as king in the northern black market even after the Empire-Magic Realm conflict ends and the North is rebuilt.

This is probably an agreed-upon matter between Hormoz and his backer. The backer, having received some form of compensation, is turning a blind eye to or supporting Hormoz’s takeover of the local black market.

Then the backer must be a native of the North. I need to find a suitable candidate among the northern dignitaries.

“…Hmm.”

I let out a contemplative sound, pretending to be deep in thought.

After maintaining silence for about 12 seconds, I nodded and opened my mouth.

“Then how about this?”

I presented Hormoz with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

“Let’s make a deal.”

“…A deal?”

“Yes. The Administrator and Mr. Hormoz will formally draft a contract, where the Administrator will supply goods to the northern black market in the future, and Mr. Hormoz will sell them.”

“By goods, you mean…”

“What else could someone from the Magic Tower sell?”

The Magic Tower is a country with few means of livelihood due to its geopolitical characteristics.

Geographically, it floats in the middle of Nastasiya City in the southern part of the Kiyen Empire, so it’s not connected by either land or sea routes, and being an artificial environment, it can’t sell minerals or agricultural products.

Therefore, the Magic Tower has a strictly manufacturing-based industrial economic structure that runs factories.

And true to its name, the Magic Tower produces and sells more magical items than any other country.

“Hmm.”

Hormoz seemed intrigued by the mention of Magic Tower goods and fell into contemplation.

His pointed elf ears moved up and down, and his fingers stroked his smooth, beardless chin.

“It’s an attractive proposal, but I would need to consult with the person I serve…”

“What consultation is needed?”

I interrupted Hormoz.

“This is a direct contract between you, Mr. Hormoz, and Francesca. It’s separate from any contract you might have with your backer in the North.”

“……”

Hormoz began to seriously consider my proposal.

This is essentially the bottom line of what I can propose and what Francesca can concede. Beyond this, Francesca won’t be able to recover her investment, and I’ll get cursed out by Leoni.

Among the items Francesca will sell are some of the relief supplies that the Abas government will send to the Empire. Even though they’re items that will be secretly diverted through paperwork, from the military intelligence bureau’s perspective, it’s still wasting money into thin air.

So this is an issue that involves not just Francesca and Hormoz, but me as well.

Hormoz can’t know that much, but he seems to realize there’s no other way. He examined the proposal with more serious eyes than ever before.

“…Meow.”

The cat’s cry broke the silence in the tent.

The cat that had cried got up from its spot and, swishing its tail, approached the entrance of the tent. The Deputy Chief slightly lifted the tent to let the cat out, and after glancing back briefly, the cat dashed out of the tent.

“……”

Hormoz stared at the slightly opened entrance of the tent for a long time.

I said to him:

“There’s nothing to worry about. This is an offer I’m making as a guest.”

“……”

“You gave me this delicious milk, so I’ll fulfill my duty as a guest. I will never do anything that would harm you, Mr. Hormoz.”

But.

“When I leave this tent. Whether we shake hands or just exchange empty pleasantries will determine many things going forward.”

“……”

“The choice is yours, Mr. Hormoz.”

I pushed my empty cup forward.

“So, make your choice here and now.”

And finally, I proposed:

“Silver or lead?”

*

The negotiation ended successfully.

There were indescribable twists and turns, but somehow things wrapped up well.

“Thank you for accepting the proposal, Trading Company Chief.”

“I should be the one thanking you, Administrator.”

Francesca and Hormoz concluded their contract.

To summarize briefly, for a specified period in the future, Francesca will supply goods to Hormoz, and Hormoz will sell them in the northern black market.

Not just simple food or medical supplies.

“Trading with alchemists from the Ivory Tower is rare even in my tribe, so dealing with a magician from the Magic Tower is unexpected. The elders will surely be pleased. How could I not express my gratitude?”

“First impressions are important, but so are the impressions we leave when parting.”

“In the end, it’s only people that remain.”

Francesca wore a faint smile.

“People, huh…”

Leaving behind what might have been a sneer, Francesca left the tent with the contract bearing magical signatures.

Outside, employees of the Palm Tree Trading Company were busily carrying food and drinks, preparing a feast to celebrate the contract, and Francesca took the best seat.

I exchanged a light handshake with Hormoz and shared pleasantries.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Hormoz.”

“I’m merely welcoming guests according to ancient tradition. Please don’t hold back and enjoy yourselves.”

As I grasped the hand Hormoz extended, I casually dropped a joke.

“You didn’t make a losing deal, did you?”

A losing deal. An expression Hormoz habitually uttered.

Whether it’s used only within the Palm Tree Trading Company, commonly among Dark Elves, or shared only by the Saria tribe, I’m not sure, but in any case, a non-losing deal is his most frequently used expression.

In response to my joke, Hormoz simply smiled and left the tent.

After both Francesca and Hormoz had departed, I received a piece of paper from the Deputy Chief in the tent.

“The information you requested.”

On the paper was a short sentence written in the language of the Mauritanian continent.

I immediately left the tent, exited the building where the spatial transformation magic was operating, and called my subordinates.

Though it was the deep hours of the night, they promptly answered the phone. It was only natural since I had them on communication standby.

-‘Communication security. This is Pippin from the Military Attaché’s Office at the Abas Embassy in the Kiyen Empire.’

“Pippin. Go now and tell the priest.”

-‘I’ll relay it through Charnoi. What should I convey?’

I recited the phrase written on the paper.

“Find the investigator who walks in remote places in the deep night.”

Now it’s time to catch the terrorist.