Ch.319Episode 13 – There Is No Country for Wizards

For a conversation that was supposed to be, Francesca’s expression wasn’t particularly bright.

To be more specific, yes.

“…It seems you have something you want to ask.”

She has a face that looks full of curiosity.

Francesca sits elegantly with one arm draped over the backrest and her legs crossed, looking at me.

I took a seat beside her and opened the conversation.

“Well, that’s fine.”

“……”

“What are you curious about?”

Episode 13 – There Is No Country for Wizards

“Gabi Schneider.”

Francesca said.

“She was kidnapped, wasn’t she?”

“Perhaps.”

Despite my vague answer, Francesca didn’t reproach me.

“Today I made some personal inquiries through my contacts at the Secretariat. About Miss Schneider and Lord Marbo.”

She continued.

“How Miss Schneider and Lord Marbo came to know each other, what duties they handled on the Moritani continent, and also the circumstances of Lord Marbo’s recent disappearance.”

“Did you find anything?”

“A little.”

I already know most of the information about Gabi Schneider and Jean Marbo. After all, I investigated them through Francesca.

As befitting an employee of the Magic Tower Secretariat, her investigation was thorough. Francesca reported in detail about the activities of the two people from their first meeting on the Moritani continent. Of course, their subsequent activities as well.

However, the information she discovered this time seems to be something neither she nor I knew before.

“At first, I thought they simply met in passing while on duty, fell in love, and started dating. That’s what I thought, and that’s what everyone around them believed.”

“And?”

“When I investigated the missing Lord Marbo, I found there was something I didn’t know about how Miss Schneider and Lord Marbo met.”

Francesca explained that the first meeting between Jean Marbo and Gabi Schneider was quite deliberately planned.

“Lord Marbo had been personally investigating Miss Schneider before leaving the country. At the time, Miss Schneider was dispatched as a diplomat to the Moritani continent, and Lord Marbo was scheduled to be dispatched to the same region, about a month away from departure.”

Francesca, who questioned Jean Marbo’s friends, discovered that he had been asking his friends in the Foreign Ministry about Gabi Schneider’s preferences and hobbies.

Friends who recalled the meeting of the two testified that at the time, they were complete strangers who had never even met.

In other words, Jean Marbo had been investigating someone he didn’t even know by face.

But the most important part wasn’t that.

“According to the memory of a friend at the time, Lord Marbo was particularly interested in Miss Schneider’s research achievements.”

I asked.

“What was that research about?”

“Research on souls.”

Research on souls?

While I was momentarily puzzled by this unexpected topic, the alchemist continued her explanation.

“Necromancy is the study of animal souls and spirits. That’s why research on souls is active within the Necromancy School. Of course, that includes human souls as well.”

“…I’ve heard of it.”

The reason wizards of the Necromancy School are viewed with suspicion in various countries, and even within the Magic Tower itself, is because they frequently conducted experiments that invaded the realm of ethics.

Religious circles viewed the study of souls as crossing a line drawn by the Creator to satisfy human greed. And it was similar in other countries. No matter how much benefit research on souls might bring to the world, for research to yield results, live experiments and human experiments were inevitable.

Nevertheless, there were wizards who stepped into this forbidden realm, and their fates were divided into two categories.

First, compromise with reality and produce minimal results in a limited environment.

Or second, cross the line that shouldn’t be crossed, be banished from society, and advance into the realm of truth.

Gabi Schneider was a wizard who belonged to the former category.

Francesca spoke.

“The field Miss Schneider was researching was how to handle ‘contracts’ bound to souls.”

Contracts bound to souls. When those words flowed from her lips, a certain magic suddenly came to mind.

I murmured the name of that magic.

“The Oath.”

The Wizard’s Oath.

A powerful spell developed by the Magic Tower during the Tower-Church War to prevent numerous betrayals and defections. It was personally designed by “The Priest,” one of the 17 Great Archmages.

The content of the magic is simple. A wizard swears to uphold a promise without fail, staking everything they have.

Francesca nodded heavily.

“The Wizard’s Oath is a prime example of a contract bound to the soul. It’s the most famous, and equally cruel.”

Historians who evaluated the war later used this expression to describe the Oath:

Shackles on the soul.

It’s an expression that likens it to having heavy responsibility, obligation, and consequences for contract violation without any compensation.

It’s no different from a bomb collar, given that the price of violation is death.

The greatest advantage of the Oath is that wizards absolutely fulfill their promises, and the greatest disadvantage is that they “must” keep their promises.

Magic itself is a phenomenon, so it doesn’t consider the caster’s circumstances and shows no mercy in its execution.

Exploiting the weakness that wizards under Oath must comply with contracts at all costs, during the war, the Inquisition used every means possible to make wizards violate their oaths.

They took advantage of the fact that there was no way to nullify the contract, since the magic itself was created to prevent betrayal.

This is regarded as the most innovative assassination method in the history of intelligence agencies. All evidence of assassination could be pinned on the wizard who died breaking the oath and the Magic Tower that imposed it.

Incidentally, the method to nullify the Oath remains a mystery even today, 100 years after magic was recognized as an academic discipline. Even though the archmage who created the magic is still alive.

That’s why neither the Magic Tower nor any country forces wizards to take the Oath unless it’s a truly special case. The fact that the Fatalia government would rather shadow and wiretap the wizards of the Ranieri family than demand an Oath shows how the magical community treats the Oath today.

Despite these side effects, the reason many wizards willingly accepted the Oath was because their situation was that desperate, according to academic opinion.

If the Magic Tower were defeated, all wizards would be slaughtered by the enraged Inquisition’s blade.

But there is another contract as famous among wizards as the Oath.

“The Blood Contract.”

The descendant of the Great Archmage said.

“The Blood Contract is a contract made between a wizard and a demon. The wizard pays their blood as a down payment to the demon, the demon grants the wish first, and then collects the remainder from the wizard afterward.”

“And this Blood Contract, like the Wizard’s Oath, affects the soul?”

Francesca nodded, and the conversation returned to its starting point.

“Miss Schneider was researching ways to nullify magic like the Wizard’s Oath and the Blood Contract. Her work had significant results, enough to attract interest from not only the Necromancy School but also wizards from other schools.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Who do you think makes Blood Contracts with demons?”

“Since it’s a contract with demons, obviously necromancers.”

“When did Lord Marbo disappear?”

“……”

The moment I recalled the day Jean Marbo was reported missing, my hair stood on end.

I stared at a pair of violet eyes glowing in the darkness. And carefully opened my mouth.

“…Surely, you’re not suggesting that Jean Marbo was that necromancer who died?”

“He disappeared that day and is now dead. Isn’t that a reasonable suspicion?”

“Wait, what? What did you say?”

Jean Marbo is dead?

“Wasn’t he just missing?”

“He’s dead.”

“How?”

Francesca sighed lightly, her arm draped over the sofa backrest.

“This might get complicated to explain, but…”

“……”

“I’ll tell you slowly.”

The Magic Tower’s alchemist began to recall what might have been just yesterday.

*

It was a strange day.

A wizard from the Secretariat had disappeared, and a spy from a foreign government had also vanished. The cafe owner who had hurriedly chased away customers was nowhere to be found, and when she returned from the restroom, she found herself standing in a darkened cafe.

Sensing something was wrong, Francesca went to the Magic Tower Embassy in Fatalia.

Having organized her thoughts on the way, it was easy to state her purpose and send a telegram to the Magic Tower.

“I requested the use of the Observatory at dawn today. Oracle approved it.”

The Observatory.

An ancient magical artifact installed at the highest point of the Magic Tower by the Priest, a Great Archmage and founder of the Astrology School. It’s an artifact with the characteristic of reading the stars in the sky to find something.

There are various ways to use the Observatory, but the most famous and useful is tracking exiles.

“It’s occasionally used to track wizards who have committed crimes and been expelled from the magical community, and even then, it’s only used when traces of particularly malicious criminals appear, due to the difficulty of maintaining the artifact.”

“And Oracle approved that for you.”

“Yes.”

Francesca used the Observatory to track Jean Marbo’s location. After all, the starting point of all these events was the disappearance of a wizard.

Oracle willingly authorized the use of the Observatory for the descendant of the Great Archmage. Even though it’s a magical artifact that even the Astrology School, which owns it, doesn’t handle carelessly.

The Observatory absorbed Jean Marbo’s magical energy from clothes left in his home. And immediately produced a result.

“And it showed he was dead?”

Francesca nodded.

“More precisely, the Observatory didn’t even begin tracking. I thought it might be a machine error, but there have been several cases of using the Observatory on already deceased exiles, so it was determined not to be an error.”

In other words, the missing Jean Marbo was already a deceased person.

“A wizard who was secretly investigating someone researching ways to nullify demonic contracts, eventually became her lover. And he disappeared. Coincidentally, on the very day a demon appeared for the first time in decades. And conveniently… a necromancer died at the demon’s hands that day.”

“……”

Documents were placed on the table in the villa. Francesca, who had pulled out papers from thin air, continued her explanation.

“These are confidential documents from the Magic Tower Security containing testimonies of wizards who fought with us against the demon in Orbentsk that day.”

She asked me as she settled into the sofa.

“Officer, do you remember the wizard who fell from the sky and died?”

“Yes. He fell in an unnatural posture and died.”

“It wasn’t a fall.”

The wizard who died then did not die from falling.

More precisely, he wasn’t in an accident, but was killed by someone.

And the report mentioned not just one wizard’s death.

The surviving wizards testified that although their vision was obscured by deep darkness and snowstorms, something like a barrier made of green magical energy appeared in front of them while they were flying.

More than a dozen wizards had similar experiences across Orbentsk. At the very time we were fighting demons and monsters.

Francesca’s lips parted.

“The wizards said a green barrier blocked their path while they were flying. Those who collided with it all fell and hit the ground.”

This was obtained from a wizard who survived after colliding with the barrier while flying with colleagues. She added:

“That’s also why we didn’t receive support from the Magic Tower. The wizards in charge of field command issued a no-fly order.”

“What’s the source?”

“My sister told me. She was investigating the battle that day with the joint investigation team of the Empire and the Church in the north.”

I skimmed through the contents of the report.

At the end of the report, there was an analysis from the investigative agency, like an annotation. The Magic Tower believed that the wizards died due to a barrier from the Protection School or similar magic. Considering that protective magic, which is not suitable for combat, was deliberately used as a means of murder, the suspect is believed to be a quite experienced wizard from the Protection School.

Protection School. Green barrier. An experienced wizard dispatched to the north.

As speculations began to chain together, I put down the report and looked at Francesca.

“Are you suspecting Martinez?”

Francesca didn’t answer. And that reaction became the clearest answer.

“Are you certain? Surely Martinez isn’t the only one in the Protection School who handles green magical energy.”

“There aren’t many wizards from the Protection School dispatched to the north who handle green magical energy. Among them, experienced wizards are even fewer. Decisively, Lord Martinez has done enough to arouse my suspicion.”

“What’s that?”

“Jean Marbo’s disappearance.”

The wizard from the Magic Tower Secretariat said.

“It’s been almost three weeks since his disappearance, but he didn’t report it to me.”

…Yes. Thinking back, it is strange.

Why didn’t Martinez report the wizard’s disappearance to Francesca?

He was the one who collected opinions from the Magic Tower when the Church’s Inquisition began to station in the north with the approval of the Grand Duke, an archmage.

Considering that he didn’t forget to report regularly even while busy with Secretariat work and the sewer maintenance project, it’s certainly puzzling that he didn’t inform Francesca about a Secretariat employee who disappeared in a martial law area.

As I tried to calm my complicated thoughts, Francesca’s voice reached me.

She began her reasoning.

“Miss Schneider, who was researching contracts bound to souls, is missing. Lord Marbo, who disappeared during the commotion, is dead. Lord Martinez, who was his superior and my subordinate, omitted the report. The common thread between the three is that they worked on the Moritani continent. And they are the people you asked me to investigate.”

It’s a quite reasonable speculation. At the same time, a legitimate suspicion.

She asks me.

“Let me ask you again. Do you really not know why Miss Schneider went missing?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I activated a record player placed in the corner of the villa.

As classical music with a subtle melody created by a master filled the air, I stood up Francesca who was sitting on the sofa. And quietly embraced her, whispering in her ear.

“The company took her.”

“……”

“According to the higher-ups, Gabi Schneider is a terrorist.”

Violet eyes that resemble pansies carefully gaze into brown eyes. Francesca looks into my eyes and asks another question.

“What do you think, Officer? Does Miss Schneider really seem like a terrorist to you?”

“I’m not sure.”

But,

I quietly let her go and added.

“Even those you trust should be doubted once in a while.”

“……”

“The most dangerous thing in this field is giving trust without verification.”

Directly recruited informants, trusted foreign intelligence officers, workplace colleagues who share meals. All meaningless. How many intelligence officers have died from one wrong association?

Betrayal always exists. So I don’t trust Gabi Schneider, whom I met for the first time yesterday.

In my experience, people involved with intelligence agencies have always been the shady type.

As I turned around to adjust the volume of the player, Francesca’s voice suddenly reached me.

“Yesterday, before you disappeared.”

Standing behind me, she continues.

“Gabi Schneider asked me for help. You followed me up to the capital, and there you disappeared.”

“And?”

“Why did you do that?”

It was a question with many omissions, but it wasn’t difficult to infer the meaning.

Why get involved in something with no personal benefit?

Why move without precaution when you should be careful?

Why take the risk to follow her?

That’s what Francesca is asking now.

It didn’t take long to come up with an answer.

“Because it’s my job.”

I said, with my back to her as I adjusted the volume.

“Wherever you go, whoever you meet, whatever you experience. If problems arise from that, solving them is my job.”

Francesca asks.

“Are you saying that as my superior handling an informant? Or as a colleague?”

“Is there a difference between the two?”

I tossed out without looking back at her.

Camilla’s colleague appointed by the Oracle. An intelligence officer in the information unit from the Intelligence Command to the Military Intelligence Bureau.

All these define who I am, so is there a need to separate the two?

“If you treat me as a superior, I’ll be a superior. If you treat me as a colleague, I’ll always remain a colleague.”

“……”

“Of course, if you consider me a friend, I won’t particularly object.”

Intelligence agencies always emphasize not to develop personal feelings for informants, but more intelligence officers break that rule than one might think.

This is probably because human emotions are difficult to define with just one word or sentence.

“As a superior, I always have a duty to protect you, and as a colleague, I also have a responsibility to rescue you when you’re in danger.”

“…What benefit does that bring to you?”

“Well.”

I thought for a moment.

“If I were a philanthropist, I’d answer that human life is precious. There’s value in saving lives, and I could find fulfillment in protecting that value.”

But I am not a philanthropist.

I’ve done terrible things to many people under the pretext of protecting the lives of 50 million citizens, the safety of the nation, and national interests. That’s an undeniable fact.

While to some I might be someone who aspires to light from the shadows, to others I’m a spy who should be arrested immediately.

And that’s still the case now.

“If I were a diplomat, I’d say it’s because it leads to Abas’s interests. No matter how much of a security criminal you are from an allied country, the benefits I can extract from you are greater. Enough to risk diplomatic friction with an allied nation.”

But I am not a diplomat.

I wear the mask of a diplomat, but in essence, I am an intelligence officer. The Military Intelligence Bureau, Abas’s intelligence agency, and by extension the government, do not demand diplomatic achievements from me.

The fact that I wear a diplomat’s badge is merely for protection in case of emergency.

Nor am I a humanist with convictions or someone intoxicated with heroic psychology. Even if I had such tendencies, they couldn’t represent who I am.

I thought for a long time to choose my answer. I kept thinking.

The reason my tongue, which usually moves so well, is reluctant to move now is probably because I’ve never pondered this before. Or perhaps it’s difficult to organize because I’ve thought about it too much.

Anyway.

The only answer I can give Francesca now is this.

“So if you ask why I followed you, I can answer that it was for your safety.”

“……”

Only then do I finally face her for the first time.

Turning around to see Francesca, her appearance was no different from usual. I couldn’t find anything special about her, just standing there with her arms crossed in her dignified posture.

However, one thing I could tell was:

In the living room bathed in faint moonlight, her tightly closed lips and soft eyes were forming a gentle curve.

*

After the conversation ended, the atmosphere in the villa changed considerably.

A picturesque villa with white outer walls and a red roof. The terrace is decorated with marble that’s in a different league from hotel tiles.

“Hmm…”

I sip wine while admiring the coastal cliff with crashing waves.

“This is nice.”

“It’s a carefully selected wine.”

Francesca smiled as she raised her glass after pouring wine from the decanter.

Indeed, as befitting a product carefully selected from Fatalia, the largest wine producer, the taste and aroma were excellent.

The temperature on the terrace, properly maintained by magical artifacts, is just right, and the wine enjoyed while looking at the night sea is special. With soft classical music coming from the living room beyond the glass, I put down my wine glass and carefully opened the conversation.

“I spoke with Saint Veronica.”

“With my sister?”

Francesca immediately reacted to the sudden news about Veronica. I leaned forward and whispered to her across the table.

“It seems the Imperial military will launch an offensive operation without including us. The date has been moved up.”

“They shouldn’t have finished preparations for the offensive yet.”

“It seems there are officials criticizing the military’s incompetence over the demon subjugation.”

“Ah, if that’s the reason, I understand.”

The Imperial Department of Defense is a power group that operates independently of the government. As the Emperor’s greatest ally and beneficiary of the regime, the military has seized all kinds of privileges and amassed wealth over the past decades.

Where light is strong, darkness deepens. There are more than a few government officials in the Empire who are dissatisfied with the military’s tyranny.

Francesca began speaking as if she understood.

“The demon was subjugated by foreigners, so the military must have looked incompetent. In fact, looking at Military Governor Mikhail, they weren’t that incompetent, but perspectives differ from person to person.”

“The military generals’ opinions are similar. Anyway, they’ve shown a weakness, so they want to put aside the failed demon subjugation and take the lead in this offensive operation themselves.”

Of course, no one knows if they will actually move up the offensive date. But the options available to the military now are limited.

“Nothing’s been decided yet, but be prepared.”

“I understand. Thank you for the information, Officer.”

“Oh, and.”

As if I just remembered something, I raised my glass and began speaking.

“I heard about this villa from Veronica.”

“What did she say?”

“She said it looks exactly like the villa where you used to stay. With your mother.”

She seems uncomfortable with the sudden mention of her mother. Francesca began showing with her whole body that she didn’t want to talk about this topic anymore.

Noticing her changed reaction, I continued speaking as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“I know your situation roughly. Revenge.”

“……”

“That’s the goal you dream of, right?”

Francesca seemed to want to hold back her words, turning her gaze away. Looking at the waves breaking into pieces, she slowly opened her mouth as if reluctantly answering.

“…That’s right.”

I put down my glass and crossed my legs. She was still looking into the distance, and I took in her profile.

“If revenge is the reason you joined hands with me, let me give you some advice.”

Her gaze, which had been fixed on the horizon, began to turn toward me.

I looked into her melancholic violet eyes and spoke.

“Don’t drag out revenge; finish it as quickly as possible. The longer it takes, the more headaches you’ll have.”

“……”

“And be sure about your target. Don’t take out your frustrations on the wrong person and regret it later.”

“…You.”

Francesca smiled with a weak face.

“You seem to know me well. You speak as if you’ve had the same experience as me.”

I shrugged.

“I have.”

“Against whom?”

“Some bastards from up north.”

“Why did you seek revenge?”

“Because those bastards took what was most precious to me.”

Dissatisfied with the ambiguous answer, Francesca’s expression subtly changed. However, finding the topic quite interesting, she didn’t let go of the conversation thread.

“What did you lose?”

“My father.”

Instantly sensing I had misspoken, I smiled wryly and added.

“Well, someone like a father.”

“……”

As a cool breeze blew, tickling the skin, Francesca, who had been giving me a strange look, suddenly asked.

“Did you succeed?”

At that one question, I was about to bring the glass close to my lips but had to put it down with a smile.

“Half failed.”

“Why?”

“I chose the wrong person.”

With those words, the conversation came to an end. Thankfully, Francesca didn’t add anything to create an uncomfortable atmosphere.

On the terrace where a cool breeze was pleasantly blowing, she suddenly put down her glass and began talking while gazing at the night sea. This time it was about work.

“Let me tell you about work that I couldn’t mention before.”

Francesca began with a clear tone.

“The project I was in charge of in the north is progressing smoothly. Thanks to the successful talks with the two of them, I think we can continue the business steadily even after the conflict ends.”

She was talking about smuggling.

It seems that as the conflict showed signs of ending, there were discussions between Hormoz, Viktor, and Francesca about the future situation of the northern black market.

Fortunately, the business talks seemed to have ended well. It would be funny if the business fell apart after I had Mikhail General clean up the criminal organizations.

But the problem arose elsewhere.

“Viktor keeps asking about the relationship between you and me.”

“How so?”

“Just this and that. How you’re doing these days, if there are any problems between us…”

Francesca trailed off ambiguously. She seemed lost in thought, carefully organizing her ideas, then raised her head cautiously.

“He’s curious about things that lovers would know, and it’s difficult to answer. Even if I’m your fake lover, I don’t know your personal aspects, do I?”

“You’re wondering how to resolve this, right?”

Francesca nodded.

I downed the wine in one go and put down the glass with a sound. Then, looking at the sea, I answered her question.

“The best way is to act as fake lovers even in normal times. There’s a limit to making up stories for pretense.”

“Hmm…”

As if it made sense, Francesca began to ponder.

“So you’re saying I should continue pretending to be your lover from now on. Consistently.”

“What are you worried about?”

“It’s not really worry… Just, I’m concerned about the eyes around us. The Hero, the Saint, my sister…”

Looking at the worried Francesca, I casually blurted out.

“What are you worried about? We just need to not get caught. No one’s asking us to walk around arm in arm in front of others. We’re just pretending.”

Then Francesca rested her arms on the table and placed her hands on it. And she began to act quite boldly.

“…You haven’t developed other feelings, have you?”

“……”

I was about to take out a cigarette but stopped to look at her. Smiling like a fox, Francesca was beautiful like a painting in the moonlight.

As we silently gazed at each other without exchanging any words, I smiled at her boldness and opened my mouth.

“Would you like to find out?”

What happened next was an extremely impulsive event.

A hand slipped through her silky hair and lightly held her cheek. Feeling the soft skin for just a moment, I leaned across the table and kissed her lips.

In that moment, it felt like breath had stopped. As if time had frozen.

As the warm sensation gradually moved away, what I saw was Francesca’s face with her eyes lightly closed. And her eyes and lips forming a gentle curve.

She carefully opened her beautifully curved eyes and smiled pleasantly.

“That was my first kiss, you know.”

“……”

“I wonder if this is also part of the fake lover play.”

Against the backdrop of the coastal cliff where white foam scattered, with soft music coming through the slightly open door.

Francesca’s first kiss tasted like wine.