Ch.310Episode 13 – There Is No Country for Wizards

There’s nothing more ironic than visiting a workplace while on vacation abroad, but somehow I found myself at the Embassy of the Kingdom of Abas.

“Frederick Nostrum?”

“Yes.”

“There you are. Would you mind coming inside for a moment?”

Following the embassy staff’s guidance, I arrived at an office where I was able to receive several items.

“Was your journey here quite busy?”

“Everyone seems busy since the beginning of the year.”

“Well, since you’re here on vacation, please enjoy yourself. Let me show you what we have. First, transportation.”

A train ticket to the south, a prepaid phone activated through a local carrier, anti-wiretapping equipment, emergency contact information, and so on.

The staff also shared some small tips with me, like good restaurants near the hotel and locations of currency exchange offices where I could safely exchange money.

“That’s enough. This looks sufficient.”

I gathered the items and left the embassy.

Episode 13 – There Is No Country for Wizards

The accommodation arranged by my company, Hotel Meraviglia, is located in a city called “Galbria” in southern Fatalia.

Galbria is Fatalia’s second-largest city and a metropolitan area in the south, comparable to Busan Metropolitan City in South Korea.

As the example suggests, Galbria is a region with developed maritime transport.

Fatalia Republic’s largest port is in Galbria, and the 1st Fleet of the Fatalian Navy—which has competed with the “Sun Fleet” of the Lushan Federal Kingdom for oceanic supremacy since the monarchy era—is based in Galbria.

So when I set foot in Galbria, the train’s final destination, I was first greeted by a salty breeze, densely packed buildings, and a vast emerald sea shimmering in the distance.

“Whew… what kind of winter weather is this…?”

Despite my squinted face against the dazzling sunlight that poured down as soon as I got off the train, a smile played at my lips.

Just a week ago, I was shivering in the bitter cold of northern Kiyen, in full military gear, worried my toes might fall off.

Now I was in one of the continent’s best vacation spots, dressed lightly and pulling a carrier (though I’m embarrassed to call my shabby backpack that). I couldn’t help but laugh.

I put on sunglasses in January, of all months, and let out a chuckle.

It was closer to a self-deprecating laugh than one of joy.

“Heh heh…”

If I’d known it would be like this, I should have applied to be a military attaché in Fatalia. Why did I choose the Empire of Kiyen as my first post?

Belated regret washed over me like a tide, but I couldn’t turn back the hands of time.

“Developed countries really are the best…”

With a wry smile, I adjusted my sunglasses, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and left the train station.

*

Hotel Meraviglia was located slightly off-center in the outskirts of the city.

To be precise, it was somewhere at the boundary between the old downtown—famous as a tourist destination with centuries-old buildings—and the new downtown filled with modern commercial buildings and corporate headquarters.

“…They say its location, where traditional beauty meets modern style, allows business travelers from abroad to enjoy both work and leisure simultaneously.”

On the hotel’s high-floor terrace.

Leaning against the railing, I gazed at the spectacular view created by the quaint Mediterranean-style buildings and the emerald sea.

Looking at the white foam rising from the waves and people playing on the sandy beach, my days in the north felt like a dream.

-‘Where did you hear that story?’

“The hotel staff was telling me. When I said it was my first time here, they just started rambling.”

-‘Someone with great pride in their workplace. I wish you were a bit more like that.’

“As a wage earner, isn’t it enough to just earn my keep? What more do you want…”

-‘Come on, man. Can’t you take a joke?’

At Clebins’ half-hearted scolding coming through the secure line, I smile and exhale the cigarette smoke I’d just inhaled.

Unlike cigarettes from the Empire of Kiyen, those from the Republic of Fatalia have a somewhat bland taste. Unique, you might say. Not as strong as those from the Empire.

I took a sip of my drink while smoking a Fatalian cigarette I’d bought at a stand near the station.

The impression of my impulsive (forced) overseas trip so far? Well, not too bad.

Clebins spoke.

-‘You called much sooner than I expected. Did you get some sleep?’

“I got plenty of nap time on the train. I called you right after checking into the hotel.”

-‘I heard you had some trouble on your way.’

“Trouble? Ah—those tails.”

Clebins’ affirmative grunt came through the line. I nodded.

“I picked up a tail as soon as I exited the warp gate. Starting from my way to the embassy and even after boarding the train, similar guys followed me. I think I encountered about seven of them.”

Surveillance shadowed me from the moment I entered the country.

The first four operatives I encountered followed me from immigration to the embassy and then to the train.

When a railway employee entered the car to check tickets, two of them got off the train, and shortly after, a new face appeared, bringing the tail count to three. These three left the compartment as the train approached the station and didn’t return to their seats.

There was also a vehicle following me from the terminal station. A driver in the driver’s seat and a passenger in the front seat. These two. They circled widely around the hotel where I checked in and then drove away toward the city center.

“Considering the concentration of foreign consulates and trading companies in the city center, I believe they were all spies from third countries. They definitely weren’t Fatalians.”

-‘Hmm…’

It wasn’t easy to identify the nationalities of intelligence officers of various ethnicities.

But one thing was certain.

-‘Did you recognize any of them?’

“No. I didn’t see any familiar faces.”

-‘So much for a peaceful vacation.’

I laughed bitterly.

I expected this, but they’re already causing trouble at the start of the year. I can’t even make a scene telling them to stop following me since I’m on vacation.

The holidays are approaching, and I wonder what they’re doing in a foreign country.

Suddenly, I remembered being scolded by my mother on the plane to Casablanca for not coming home to see my parents again during the Lunar New Year, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

“It’s not like I’m the only one who can’t relax—those guys following me today are in the same boat.”

-‘That’s true.’

As I arrived in the late afternoon, the sunset was beginning to fall. Sensing the mood was right, I paused before speaking.

I gulped down the drink that clinked in the bottle, then removed it from my lips. I took a deep drag from the bland cigarette, exhaled the smoke, and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

Leaving the terrace and returning to my hotel room, I checked the anti-wiretapping equipment on the table.

Then, sitting on the bed and feeling the breeze gently blowing through the cracked door, I slowly opened my mouth.

“Director.”

-‘Go ahead.’

“I want to know what’s happening in the north.”

*

I asked about the situation in the north, but the answer I received was terrible.

Something about not wanting to talk about work while on vacation, or telling me to call back after having dinner or at least walking around the hotel area.

Clebins indirectly, diplomatically expressed his refusal. I clung to his pant leg, but couldn’t get the information I wanted.

In the end, the one who backed down wasn’t him, but me.

“Such stubborn old man…”

As Clebins suggested, I left the hotel and wandered through downtown Galbria. It’s a rare vacation, so I might as well relax properly.

Since the hotel was at the boundary between old and new downtown, after deliberating on my destination, I decided to explore the old downtown with its tourist attractions first.

The dichotomous division between old and new downtown is a common phenomenon in this part of the world, except in pioneering or reclaimed areas.

This is because the land where humans can “safely” live is limited.

Thousands or hundreds of years ago, residents settled in an area and formed villages. Villages grew into cities as the population increased. Cities gathered to form regions and nations, and each time, the settlements where residents had established themselves grew like connected Lego blocks.

A fishing village next to a dock, a shipyard next to the dock, the dock is too small. Let’s build roads and expand it into a port. Make it large enough for merchant ships, not just fishing boats. Let’s also dock warships to drive away pirates.

In that process, countless tears, sweat, and blood of non-human slaves were spilled, but that’s now a thing of the past.

Just as black slavery was once legal in Europe, non-human slavery was once legal on this continent.

Of course, that ancient history gave birth to Maoist goblins who arm themselves collectively and hide in jungles growing cocaine, traditionalist orcs who oppose government forces in the desert while producing an enormous amount of marijuana for the world’s population, anarchist beastkin who emerge whenever protests break out, and eco-fascist elves from the great forest, but that’s not really an important story.

Well, it might be important to someone like Jake.

After all, burning those drug fields and kidnapping HVTs (High-Value Targets) is what Abas special forces units deployed abroad do. Or assassinate them.

I heard he was deployed twice. He even personally killed a mid-level officer of a local warlord. That experience probably helped him get into military intelligence.

Of course, it’s illegal and would be disastrous if caught, but nobody cares. Because the Empire of Kiyen and Fatalia are doing the same things.

Anyway.

No matter how dark the city’s past might be, the night view illuminating the darkness was brilliantly dazzling.

“The scenery is nice.”

I wandered aimlessly through Galbria’s old downtown.

The gravel path under the setting sun was beautiful. The old gravel stones glistening in the sunlight, the wooden pillars darkened by the passage of time.

This place is definitely heaven compared to the northern Empire. If there’s a paradise on earth that the Reds so desperately cry out for, it might be here. That’s what I thought.

I bought a bottle of beer from a street vendor who overcharges tourists and looked around the beach. Despite the blazing sun setting beyond the horizon, the beach was crowded.

Behind them were two warning signs. The warning messages printed in red on white backgrounds were straightforward.

[WARNING! This area is one of the regions where sea monsters appear. Residents and tourists are advised to leave the beach immediately and evacuate inland when the siren sounds, and follow the instructions of military and police.]

[WARNING! Mines have been installed in the waters near this area. If you find a mine on the beach, please report it to the authorities immediately.]

Beware of monsters. Beware of mines. Common phrases.

“Monsters run wild here too.”

No matter how capable the Fatalian Navy might be, they can’t eliminate all the monsters living in the vast sea. The same goes for the uninhabited areas along the borders.

To prevent monsters from crossing borders and attacking cities, the military has scattered landmines and sea mines across fields, rivers, mountains, and seas.

It’s a very crude method, but effective.

There’s the problem of civilians dying when explosives washed away by waves or river currents detonate, but still.

I walked along the beach, drank my beer, and bought gelato from a nearby vendor. After slowly finishing the gelato while sitting on a bench, I picked one of the restaurants recommended by the embassy staff that looked decent.

“Welcome.”

“Good evening. Table for one, please.”

“This way, please.”

The restaurant I visited could only be described as ordinary, and the reason I chose this place was because it wasn’t too expensive for a place with an ocean view.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Sparkling water, please. And what do you have for aperitifs?”

Since I was dining alone, I decided to take my time.

I sipped my aperitif while waiting for the appetizer to arrive. And looking at the sea, I fell into thought for a moment.

The first thing that came to mind was the situation in the northern Empire of Kiyen, where conflict was ongoing. I’d just been scolded for thinking about work while on vacation, but habits are truly frightening. The first thought that popped into my head during a moment of leisure was work.

The next things that came to mind were my family in Abas and concerns about my companions scattered in various places.

“……”

As far as I knew, Lucia had returned to her order.

Veronica remained in the north due to post-operation matters, but Lucia returned home with some of the wounded because she had to tend to injuries sustained in battle. I believe Priestess Rebecca, who was severely injured, also returned with her.

I miss her, but honestly, I still don’t know what to say when facing Lucia.

I know she has feelings for me, but human hearts are so fickle that I’m not sure if I actually have feelings for her.

I’m also curious about Camilla and Francesca’s situation. I heard they’re recuperating at the magic tower, and I’m worried that Camilla might cause trouble.

Especially since Camilla, unpredictable as a bouncy ball, has the power to burn down a mountain, my concern is doubled. Just thinking about the humans clamoring for compensation for the buildings she burned down at the magic tower…

“Whew…”

I drank some sparkling water to calm my burning insides while trying to soothe my throbbing headache.

While I am genuinely concerned, I don’t really think Camilla will cause a major incident. I trust her brilliant mind and conscience.

If she were thick-headed, she would have flown straight to the magic tower regardless of Fatalia or whatever, but Camilla isn’t a teenager—she’ll handle things properly.

I was willing to overlook whatever she might do as long as she ate a reasonable amount of snacks.

There was a slight uneasiness in a corner of my heart, but I deliberately ignored it and sipped my aperitif.

“Hmm…”

The scenery was beautiful, the cocktail was sweet, and there was no one to disturb me.

Though my thoughts about my companions lingered, ironically, I had almost no chance of encountering the three of them for the time being.

Basically, Camilla, Lucia, and Francesca aren’t people who can move quietly. If any of the three entered Fatalia, I would definitely know. Especially Francesca.

She was the child of a traitor and a political criminal in her homeland, and an official at the magic tower. And Fatalia is precisely the country where Francesca was born and raised.

The Fatalian government doesn’t like her coming to Fatalia. Neither does Francesca. After leaving for the magic tower to study, she rarely visited her homeland. She didn’t even communicate with her family.

Even including official business, there weren’t many records of her entering Fatalia in the past few years. And whenever she did, the National Security Bureau invariably followed and monitored her. So even if she wanted to come, she couldn’t.

She probably doesn’t even want to come in the first place.

Just then, the door opened and a woman entered and sat in the seat behind me. It seemed the restaurant was now entering its peak hours as customers began to fill the seats one by one.

I turned my gaze from the sea to the table. Next to my half-finished aperitif and sparkling water lay my passport.

A memo stuck out from the passport. The neatly folded memo had a phone number written in a tidy handwriting.

“……”

Right. Since I’m on vacation, I should at least see her face out of courtesy.

I pulled out and unfolded the memo, then dialed the phone number the examiner had written. For a moment, I heard a ringtone from nearby.

-Click.

The other person answered the phone.

“Sophia.”

I called her name while drinking my aperitif.

“I know you know I’ve entered the country, so let’s not do this. Do you really have to play games like this?”

The other person didn’t say anything.

She didn’t say things like “I think you have the wrong number” or “My name isn’t Sophia.”

Instead, she responded with a voice tinged with amusement.

“…Was my prank too much?”

The voice from the phone came from behind me.

I turned my head. At the same time, the woman sitting behind me also turned her head.

Our gazes met in mid-air, and,

“Hello, Merlo.”

With the phone still held to her ear, she smiled playfully.

National Security Bureau overseas intelligence officer,

Francesca Ranieri’s monitor,

And my friend.

Sophia from the National Security Bureau greets me as she closes her phone.

“First time seeing you in Fatalia, right?”