Ch.423Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

“The battle between the Asen and Sanya factions has entered a stalemate.”

“Peace has arrived after 60 days, with a ceasefire ending eight weeks of combat. However, gunfire continues in cities near the border. It remains unclear whether this stalemate will lead to lasting peace…”

“The Al-Yabd Union, an international organization of Al-Yabd nations worldwide, issued a statement on the 17th local time urging an end to the civil war. They also delivered a strongly worded condemnation and warning against sorcerers operating around the Port of the Dead Whale, stating ‘Those who profit by sacrificing innocent lives will be punished in the name of God’…”

“The Mage Tower’s School of Sorcery has stated that it has no connection to the war of sorcerers taking place on the Moritani continent. This is interpreted as an attempt to avoid political entanglement while competing with Francesca Ranieri, the Elemental School’s candidate for the upcoming Oracle Committee election.”

“Meanwhile, a spokesperson for the Order’s Foreign Ministry criticized the Mage Tower’s attitude as hypocritical for remaining silent on civilian deaths.”

“…Terrorists who murder innocent lives are a global threat. The Order will not remain silent on such violence.”

“We must not fear violence.”

“Fear only emboldens those who extort gains through violence.”

“It is time to act. We must demonstrate through action to prevent the cycle of tragedy.”

“Even if blood must be shed.”

Episode 17 – The Blood-Drinking Tree

Two months after the operation began, summer arrived, and media outlets worldwide began to stir.

The news was that the hero and her companions, who had vanquished demons and driven away the threat of demon-kind in the north, were finally preparing to depart for a new region.

Those in need welcomed the news.

This expectation was particularly pronounced in the Moritani continent and the Eastern continent.

Especially in Moritani, where warlord conflicts, monsters pushing in from the borders, and suspicious mystical phenomena erupting across the continent threatened people’s lives.

“Well, solving just one problem won’t improve the local situation anyway.”

“Solving problems sounds easy, but these countries have issues tangled like spider webs. What difference would sending a hero, saint, and alchemist make when even an army wouldn’t be enough?”

“Still, isn’t hope what’s needed in times like these?”

Of course, there were plenty of skeptical views as well.

Everyone knows the hero is a walking strategic weapon, a one-woman army. Throughout history, heroes who made their mark and vanished had all made significant contributions in their respective fields.

That’s why some can’t help but be wary of foreign intervention led by Camilla. Others worry whether it’s fair to burden one person with such a heavy responsibility.

But the world is an intersection of diverse fields, and a minority opposition cannot overturn a majority approval.

Today, as usual, I’m working to ease the concerns of those in high places.

“With that in mind, please approve this.”

“What? Coming to me at closing time.”

“I’ve investigated armed groups in the area of operations. Focusing on regions the hero and her companions are expected to visit.”

An analysis report landed on the desk.

A document with the large red letters “SCI” prominently stamped on it. Leoni flipped through the pages with an indifferent expression.

“Warlords, terrorist groups, criminal organizations… It’s complicated enough just looking at human-centered groups.”

Director Leoni, who oversees foreign intelligence and overseas operations for Military Intelligence. The seasoned intelligence officer read through the text with the impassiveness of a lawyer.

“Is this the entire report?”

“No. There’s still material on non-human armed groups operating in the region. The Beast Alliance, nomadic orcs, goblins who’ve joined the rebels, dwarves, and so on.”

“…”

“If we include the Ivory Tower, sorcerer communities, indigenous religious forces, and Al-Yabd, it would take three or four days just to review the materials.”

If it takes three or four days just to review the materials, that means we’d both need to be in the office for about two weeks. Both me writing the reports and Leoni.

Perhaps that’s why Leoni already looked tired. I sipped my cheap coffee mix and smiled faintly.

“I’ll wrap it up as quickly as possible.”

Even though Camilla is a one-person army, the Inquisition supports Lucia, and Francesca’s connections reach the Ivory Tower, deployment isn’t decided as quickly as a day trip.

Support personnel, volunteer groups entering with them, security forces. There’s even talk of military deployment, so civilian, government, and military officials from various countries need to discuss together.

Moreover, since they won’t be staying in just one country like in the north, we need to coordinate with the authorities—the foreign ministries, defense ministries, and interior ministries of the Moritani continent. Coordinating with countries with different political and religious positions means wrestling with paperwork before even deploying.

With continents, government departments, private organizations, and international bodies all mixing together, how could intelligence agencies be left out?

Thanks to this, Military Intelligence is experiencing unprecedented prosperity (a bombardment of work).

To this, the Director of Foreign Operations at Military Intelligence said:

“You’re working quite hard too.”

“It’s nothing unusual.”

I waved dismissively while chewing on my paper cup.

“The Foreign Ministry will handle negotiations with civilian, public, and international organizations. Diplomacy is their job after all. We just need to do what we usually do.”

“I know.”

“How’s the contact with armed groups going?”

“Progressing well. I’ve met with key officials and set up appointments to meet top leaders. Nasir’s help was significant.”

Sheikh Nasir Al-Hassan. The tribal chief of Hassan and leader of Group 3 warlords.

With his help, I’m contacting all groups residing in areas the team will visit in the future.

“That man handles business efficiently.”

Leoni nodded and continued.

“He was like that when he worked as a sniper under me. Excellent marksmanship, best performance.”

“Ah, you mean the government military generals?”

“Yes. Men who rattled their chains for the Empire’s emperor. People who preferred following the emperor over their own president.”

Lost in reminiscence, the director silently shifted her gaze to the window. In a spot similar to where Nasir’s sniper rifle once rested, a half-burned flag of the Imperial Royal Family hung framed.

Staring at the flag captured from a battlefield across the sea, she absently rubbed her forehead.

“Anyway, prepare well. Whether managing informants or business. They say Sanya is cornered, but you never know when they might reconnect with the Empire. Finish it decisively. That’s why I endured all kinds of abuse from the committee members.”

“Understood.”

“As always, your response is…”

*

The operation to dismantle Groups 1 and 2 using Group 3 has been completed.

Asen and Sanya, who were expected to take at least four months to calm the conflict, entered a ceasefire mood in just two months, overturning the predictions of Abbas intelligence.

The two warlords hadn’t formally promised a ceasefire.

They simply had to stop fighting because ammunition and funds were depleted too quickly.

“The warlords’ stockpiled supplies and funds were depleted faster than expected.”

“That’s the natural result of pouring so much into the early stages.”

Director Clevins, responsible for counterintelligence, security, investigation, domestic intelligence, and counterterrorism, evaluated the conflict that had heated up foreign media in a dry tone.

“More sorcerers gathered than Sanya could handle. They hired seven times more mercenaries than before, so there’s no way capital would remain.”

Sanya ran out of money to pay mercenary sorcerers. This was the result of promising higher compensation than what the three warlords had guaranteed.

Sorcerers who joined the war for money flocked to Sanya, and Sanya couldn’t handle the swollen army they had recruited beyond expectations.

“So they borrowed emergency funds. They got advances from their trading partners and accepted Imperial weapons to reduce funds for consumables. But then the drugs and weapons they promised to deliver went up in flames, didn’t they?”

“They burned well. Quite a spectacle.”

“Hmm… was it that impressive? I thought it was mediocre. The smell of burning cannabis is quite foul…”

Group 2, which had cut expenses and scraped together military funds to prepare for war, instantly lost their drugs and supported weapons.

Their trading partner, the Orc Mafia, quickly cut ties with Sanya. The sorcerers who had entered with high expectations were left high and dry.

In this situation, the only place left to get help was the Reconnaissance Command, but now that was gone too.

“They lost two intelligence officers and the supplies provided to the warlords disappeared, so they must have been in a difficult position.”

“What did Reconnaissance say?”

“They quickly closed up shop and withdrew.”

The Reconnaissance Command’s overseas team abandoned Group 2 and withdrew.

They did send new weapons and ammunition, but there was no large-scale aid including heavy weapons like the mortars they had sent before.

In reality, they had just sent a bunch of difficult-to-dispose-of leftovers under the guise of support. Like scammers who fill packages with junk instead of actual goods in second-hand transactions.

I assessed the Reconnaissance Command’s intentions in a calm tone.

“So the Empire has abandoned the warlords.”

“They might reopen channels if Sanya’s situation improves, but for now, support has ended. They’ve completely withdrawn their team from the field.”

For reference, that team was the one looking for Camilla in the capital. They suffered casualties and failed their auxiliary mission, but the main force achieved their objective and safely returned to the Empire.

I wonder what Camilla is doing now.

The last time we spoke, she was feeling down after being scolded by the Archduke. Maybe I should call her later.

As I continued my trivial worries, Clevins continued. He smiled at me.

“Good work.”

“It’s nothing. The operation isn’t even over yet.”

“But it’s practically finished, isn’t it? The sorcerers eventually left Sanya when capital dried up, and Asen, who was barely holding the front line, is in no position to do anything with even their shells depleted. Only Hassan benefited.”

Of course, Abbas benefited too.

The relationship between Group 2 and the Empire was essentially ruined. They managed to hold out for the first month, but when it became clear that it would be difficult to receive the compensation promised by the warlords, the sorcerers quickly pulled out.

Meanwhile, Group 1 is busy replenishing depleted ammunition and recruiting missing troops.

With Sanya’s money dried up and Asen having lost their army, they can only glare at each other and continue propaganda, unable to display their former might.

In the midst of this, Group 3 absorbed Sanya’s trading partners to secure capital and took in large numbers of soldiers who had defected from Asen.

According to Nasir, enough people gathered to form a new brigade. They are armed with modernized weapons and currently training at Hassan’s facilities.

Hassan’s coffers were sufficient to feed and clothe the increased soldiers, and prosperous enough for sorcerers who had gone to Sanya to return. As the heat of conflict cooled, Hassan was experiencing an unprecedented golden age.

“…”

I smiled wryly as I looked at Clevins. After stamping his departure, he instructed his driver to head toward the official residence and said:

“You seem to have a knack for handling warlords and life on the Moritani continent. How about it? Want to transfer to domestic operations?”

“Are you asking me to work domestically?”

“There are plenty of positions in counterterrorism. Whether at headquarters or in the field, we’re short on people.”

Well, counterterrorism has always been a non-mainstream area, so that’s understandable.

I nodded in apparent agreement.

“Counterterrorism would be a department with less burden for someone who’s also a hero’s companion. Terrorism knows no borders. Isn’t the region you’re going to now also suffering from terrorism?”

“That’s true.”

“In my opinion, you’d do well there too. Don’t you think? Especially considering the Empire’s current situation.”

Clevins was well aware of the unfortunate incident that had occurred in the Kiyen Empire, which had a tight grip on the Moritani continent.

However, he didn’t mention the details.

The emperor’s condition was information known only to a select few within the Abbas government.

Of course, I knew about it too.

“It’s obvious that unrestrained armed forces will run wild. The Defense Ministry is also closely monitoring the movements of foreign terrorist organizations.”

“Are you planning to send me to the field?”

“Not necessarily the field. If you’re willing, I could arrange a position at headquarters. The office right next to mine is empty.”

Clevins half-jokingly offered a position. Like poking a persimmon you know you can’t eat.

To this, as I got out of the car, I replied before closing the door:

“I wouldn’t join counterterrorism even if you beat me to death.”

No thanks, not interested.

*

Home.

The greatest asset and most important possession of citizens worldwide. Some may purchase real estate for speculation, but for most people, a home is considered a sanctuary.

However, there are cases where a home fails to serve as a sanctuary, and there are poignant reasons for this.

For instance, discord with neighbors.

Noise between floors, smoking, waste separation, parking disputes, and so on. In the small community of an apartment building, people with different lifestyles coexist, and these differences can sometimes become seeds of discord.

Unfortunately, I too was experiencing hardships due to my neighbors.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Patricia from next door.”

When I opened the front door in response to the doorbell, an elderly woman in her 50s greeted me warmly. Though I’d never seen her before, she wore a very welcoming expression.

“Ah, yes. I’m Frederick Nostrim.”

“Oh my, so you’re that famous major? My husband has told me a lot about you.”

“I see. And your husband would be…?”

“Oh dear. Look at me. I’m sorry for suddenly mentioning someone you don’t know. Actually, my husband works at the Defense Ministry.”

“Ah, the Defense Ministry… Um, might your husband’s position be…?”

“He’s the Army Chief of Staff.”

She was the Chief of Staff’s wife.

The family of my workplace superior (a four-star general) had suddenly appeared. I bowed deeply to the madam. The difference between one pile of horse dung and four stars.

Although I was a soldier and she was a civilian, the mysterious principle of military rank somehow extended to civilians as well. That’s why I greeted the Chief of Staff’s wife with such respect.

In fact, by common sense, she was a person worthy of VIP treatment.

First of all, she was of a certain age, and she was nobility. Plus, being the wife of the Chief of Staff made her essentially a quasi-superior.

Of course, applying the term “superior” to a civilian who isn’t a soldier isn’t exactly appropriate, but no one cares about such technicalities. In a society where rank is power, the family of a superior is essentially a superior. It’s no wonder that children living in military apartments play the role of neighborhood bosses according to their parents’ ranks.

Due to such minor and bashful issues, junior officers struggle to escape military housing, pushed by their wives and children, but unfortunately, real estate prices in this neighborhood far exceed the notorious Seoul housing prices.

So what can you do? Either earn a lot of money or get approval to live outside the base.

But, quite regrettably,

I was in the unfortunate position of having money but not being permitted to live off-base.

The company had stashed me in official quarters for fear that I might be bugged by foreign spies if I arranged accommodation outside the base.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Frederick Nostrim, serving as a defense attaché.”

How cramped these official residences were. The diplomatic quarter housed everyone from the Army Chief of Staff to the Foreign Minister, the Prime Minister’s security secretary, the Defense Minister, and various other high-ranking government officials.

As a result, I had no choice but to welcome my neighbors (the Chief of Staff and his wife) who arrived late at night, sweating profusely.

“Ah, so you’re the fellow I heard was moving in. Finally meeting face to face.”

The Chief of Staff, whose face I had only seen in newspapers and news published by the Defense Ministry, greeted me. Wearing a checkered winter sweater, he had his entire family in tow.

Next to him, the Prime Minister’s secretary, who had brought expensive wine as a housewarming gift, was chatting with the Foreign Minister, and at the table, the Defense Minister’s wife was laughing and chatting with the Chief of Staff’s family.

In this mind-boggling atmosphere, I received greetings and well-wishes from the Defense Minister (former four-star general) and the Chief of Staff (current four-star general).

“You’re working hard until late.”

“Yes. Thank you, Minister.”

“No need to be so tense. Relax, relax.”

The Defense Minister said “don’t feel burdened, just relax,” but the aide accompanying the minister was staring at me with fire in his eyes.

Sitting comfortably in the seat of honor with a warm smile, the minister. Right beside him, the Chief of Staff, a junior from both the military and the military academy, paused from drinking coffee and laughed.

“I said don’t be nervous. Haha.”

“Ah, yes.”

“It’s late, but I’m finally seeing your face. I heard you were coming two months ago, but where have you been all this time?”

After briefly surveying the atmosphere, I quietly answered the Army Chief’s question.

“I was busy with work.”

“Ah… I understand what you mean.”

I covered it up by saying “work,” but he fully understood the meaning behind my words. The fact that I belonged to an intelligence unit was information the Chief of Staff could confirm with his authority.

However, he didn’t seem to know what I had been doing. Fortunately, the Chief didn’t ask further.

People who had gathered at the official residence to see the new neighbor as part of the housewarming stayed for about two hours before departing to their respective residences. During those two hours, I dealt with two ministers, the Prime Minister’s secretary, a four-star general, and their families.

I don’t know how much information was exchanged during that time, which was short yet sufficiently long. The atmosphere was quite good, and the gifts and meals I received were excellent, but my insides were turned upside down like a shipwreck in a storm.

“Whew…”

As I roughly cleaned up and lay on the sofa, far away, the door of a small room creaked open, and two people peeked their heads out.

“…Are they gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Whew, that was scary.”

It was Brother Jerry and Sister Adela.

The two civil servants, who had been hiding in the small room like illegal immigrants on a smuggling ship, cautiously looked around before scurrying into the living room. They had quickly escaped when they noticed the attention was focused on me.

“Is there some kind of diplomatic security national council meeting today? The Defense Minister, Chief of Staff, Foreign Minister, and the Prime Minister’s secretary all came…”

“They said it was a housewarming.”

“That’s quite an elaborate housewarming.”

Sister Adela, who had emerged into the living room, muttered as she finally caught her breath. She kicked my backside with her dirty pig’s feet, instructing me to make room.

Curled up on the sofa, I retorted with annoyance.

“Move your pig’s feet.”

“Screw you.”

“Don’t you feel sorry for the sofa? Pressing down on it with that heavy weight will sink the cushions.”

“Do you want to die?”

“Stop fighting, you two.”

Brother Jerry, the mediator of the Nostrim siblings, gently intervened, but the orc-like eldest daughter easily ignored him.

With brute force, the orc pushed me aside and crushed the poor sofa with her plump buttocks.

“Hey, the sofa is tilting!”

“Fred, you bastard!”

“Hey, hey! Adela!”

Brother Jerry, sweating profusely, pulled away Sister Adela, who was charging with a battle cry that even an orc wouldn’t make. Having obtained intelligence (heard from the family chef) that Sister Adela’s weight had increased slightly due to recent overeating, I was diligently teasing her.

“Who told you to eat so heartily? My goodness, to eat so much that the pants you bought to wear in summer don’t fit—”

“You, you, youuu…!”

“Ah, I said stop fighting!”

Her pig’s feet kicks were quite pitiful.

I easily avoided her attacks by rolling around on the sofa.

Brother Jerry, who had barely managed to stop his rampaging sister, wore a troubled expression. He cast a glance at me, asking me to restrain myself.

“Fred, stop teasing her now.”

“Isn’t it strange that sister is making such a fuss over gaining just 5kg, brother?”

“Obesity is a relative value, isn’t it? Adela must be quite distressed— oof!”

“Jerry, you shut up too!”

“Stop! I’m hurt, Adela!”

“Just die!”

As they say, tigers die for their skin, and humans die for their tongues.

The finance department civil servant who drew aggro with one wrong word was being beaten by the diplomat.

Having escaped from the clutches of Zhu Bajie thanks to Brother Jerry’s tearful sacrifice, I opened my mouth while taking out ice cream from the refrigerator. To be precise, I scooped a spoonful of ice cream, stuffed it into my mouth, and mumbled.

“Where are Father and Mother?”

“At the townhouse. They’ll be coming here soon.”

Brother Jerry, who was being beaten, responded in a calm voice. And then got hit by Sister Adela again.

Chewing on my spoon, I tilted my head. They’re coming to the official residence now?

“Why come at such a late hour when they could just stay there…”

“Still, their son has acquired a new home. Parents should come and see it.”

“They know you’re busy, so why bother coming.”

I looked around the official residence while scooping ice cream. The residence prepared by the Abbas Defense Ministry for generals had now become my dwelling.

Of course, it’s slightly better equipped than an ordinary official residence. All the glass has been replaced with bulletproof material, and special paint has been applied to the exterior walls to prevent eavesdropping. There were even more than five locking devices protecting the main gate and entrance.

At this point, it was essentially a bunker rather than an official residence. I had wondered if someone had deliberately skimmed off the billions spent on renovating the facility, but seeing the result, I understood.

But the perspective of the Treasury, which oversees the budget, seems different. Brother Jerry, who had been thoroughly beaten, smacked his lips and began.

“I heard they spent an enormous budget rebuilding this place. What exactly did they change?”

“Solid bulletproof glass and anti-eavesdropping security measures would cost that much.”

I tapped on the living room glass.

“I don’t know about other things, but the paint that blocks magical waves from eavesdropping equipment is extremely expensive. There are few places that produce it, and you need special processed materials and even magicians to handle it. If they had only invested in encryption materials for communication equipment, the budget would have been smaller, but they coated the entire building, so it’s bound to cost billions.”

“Is that normal? It looks like waste to me.”

“You’re speaking out of ignorance.”

Money is required for all activities conducted by intelligence agencies. From simply paying employees to operating information networks and running equipment, everything needs a budget.

Add to that the additional costs for overseas operations, and spending billions is common in intelligence agencies.

“It costs at least 100,000 shillings to monitor one person abroad. Just to watch someone, 100,000 shillings are spent. How much budget do you think it would take to monitor a security facility as fortified as an embassy?”

“They spend that much budget to monitor someone?”

“Yes. It’s the combined cost of accommodation, meals, and various expenses. At the very least, that’s what it costs to track a civilian traveling abroad.”

For reference, 100,000 shillings is roughly equivalent to 200 million won. That’s what I calculated while monitoring commies in Eastern Europe.

Brother Jerry clicked his tongue at the reality of intelligence agencies pouring out budgets like water. Watching him, Sister Adela grumbled while stealing and eating my ice cream.

“They probably spent 100,000 shillings on playing around. When I was working at the embassy, I saw the Royal Intelligence Bureau chief playing tennis every morning. They bought a year’s membership with their budget and were having a grand time.”

“Diplomats go golfing. Director Nam…”

“Mr. Park.”

I reclaimed the spoon from Sister Adela and added.

“Come on, let’s not be so stingy about spending some money. We’re all civil servants here.”

“The budget should be used moderately, moderately. Do you know how much that money could help social welfare?”

“It’s not like it’s a building we’ll use once and throw away. Someone will use it after I move out. By the way, where’s Ayla and what is she doing?”

“Overseas business trip.”

“Where did she go?”

“Don’t know. She doesn’t tell us.”

Brother Jerry answered while stretching his stiff body. Sister Adela continued his words.

“Looking at the departure records, it seems she hasn’t gone abroad yet. But lately, she’s not easy to contact.”

“She’s always been the type not to keep in touch.”

She’ll manage on her own. Ayla is a working adult now too.

I opened the wine I had received as a gift. As the fragrant aroma wafted up, I opened my mouth while filling the glasses.

“I think I’ll be going on a business trip soon too.”

“Already? You’ve just returned home, and you’re talking about another trip?”

“Do you think I want to go? I’m going because the company says so.”

“Where are you going this time?”

“Moritani.”

Sister Adela, who was eating ice cream, opened her eyes wide.

“Moritani? That’s an extremely dangerous continent.”

“It’s not that dangerous. It’s safer than you think.”

“Didn’t you say the same thing when you went to the north? And what was the result? There was a big commotion about demons and whatnot.”

“Is now the same as then?”

“Who knows. There might be demons there too.”

“Stop with the jinxing and hurry up with the preparations. You said Father and Mother are coming soon.”

Just as we were about to prepare for the proper housewarming, the phone rang.

It wasn’t my personal mobile phone. It was the house phone set up in the official residence.

Brother Jerry, who was nearby, wiped his hands on his pants and picked up the receiver. He exchanged some words with the caller, then covered the receiver with his palm and called me.

“Fred. Someone’s looking for you?”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. They say it’s Defense Ministry business… Isn’t it your company’s call?”

“Let me see.”

I took the receiver.

“Yes, this is Frederick Nostrim speaking.”

-‘Manager, it’s me.’

“Jake?”

It was Jake.

Despite the late hour, he was calling me. He would have heard the news of my return already, so I assumed it was a courtesy call.

But somehow his voice didn’t sound right.

“Where are you?”

-‘I’ve come to the office now.’

“The office? At this hour?”

-‘Yes.’

“Has something happened?”

-‘Ah, yes. Well…’

Jake, who had been fidgeting, began explaining in an anxious voice.

-‘We just received a call from Fatalia. Um, there’s urgent news for you.’

“It’s a secure line. Go on.”

-‘You know the informant you were managing? From the Mage Tower.’

“Yes.”

-‘They’ve been found dead in Fatalia.’