Ch.56Episode 4 – Why Are You Only Picking On Me

The commander seated in the middle spoke up.

“How about assigning the tracking mission to that fellow?”

I wanted to ask who he thought he was to assign such a task to me, but his rank was far higher than mine.

The intelligence director sitting across from him retorted.

“Isn’t tracking one of our most difficult missions after establishing an intelligence network? Is it appropriate to assign that to a major? Surely there must be other more experienced operatives in the Magic Tower.”

He was suggesting they should assign it to a seasoned, heavyweight elite operative. Right. Even I thought I wasn’t qualified for such a complex and dangerous mission. Maybe if it involved taking someone’s head off, but not this.

However, the commander shook his head.

“All the officers currently assigned to the Magic Tower are engaged in indirect operations against the Great Empire. We have too many projects allocated to far fewer personnel than required. We’re at capacity.”

“Surely there must be some operatives with availability if we look?”

“Since losing our intelligence network within the Empire, the Magic Tower’s indirect operation team’s workload has doubled. They’ve had to take on the projects originally handled by direct infiltration officers.”

“Hmm.”

He was saying they couldn’t do it because they didn’t have enough people.

The commander next to him clicked his tongue lightly and pushed out his lips.

“I told you we should have recruited more new personnel.”

“How long do we wait for rookies to become elite? Five years? Ten? It would be faster to raise chicks and fry them.”

“Can’t we pull personnel from other branches?”

“Impossible. The environments are too different, requiring adaptation periods, and even after adapting locally, it’s questionable whether they’d perform effectively.”

A heated debate continued among the commanders for quite some time.

Too inexperienced for such a critical mission, we have to assign it to him because we’re short-staffed, then bring in surplus personnel from other branches, local adaptation training takes too much time, then assign it to official cover intelligence officers, that won’t work they’re also overwhelmed, and so on.

An intense argument erupted around the table, with numerous commanders presenting their arguments based on knowledge and experience.

And Clavins, who had caused all this commotion, smiled pleasantly while holding back his words. When the meeting atmosphere was at its peak,

“Come now, let’s all calm down.”

The director, his voice noticeably softer, stepped in to mediate.

“I’ve heard everyone’s points. This proposal seems to have many practical issues, so let’s discuss it more thoroughly at the next working meeting.”

“Understood.”

“Hmm, but I suppose we should hear from the person in question. Major Frederick?”

Why are you suddenly calling on me?

Unable to hide my anxiety, I fidgeted awkwardly until the director laughed and said to me:

“Can you provide a brief debriefing now?”

He wanted me to present.

Episode 4 – Why Pick On Me?

After several hours, the meeting finally ended, and I left the conference room.

Looking out the window, I saw that the blue sky had long since turned pink. I had entered during lunch and was coming out at dinner time.

“Good work.”

“Ah, well done. You did well too.”

“Good presentation. You did well despite the time constraints.”

“Thank you…”

The commanders patted my shoulders as they passed by.

I had just finished my debriefing—a presentation reporting on the results after completing an “operation”—as ordered by the director.

Normally, debriefings are conducted immediately after an operation ends and reports are completed, but due to my week-long business trip, it could only be done now.

Actually, I had already done a debriefing long ago—exactly a week ago, right after returning, with Clavins.

I wasn’t sure if that was the right procedure, but since I had hurriedly taken on operative duties and my position was somewhat floating, I was told to report to my original superior.

In any case, the debriefing itself was relatively successful.

All the policy makers of the Military Intelligence Agency who attended today’s meeting, including the director, had already reviewed the report several times, so we just summarized and held a Q&A session. Of course, that Q&A was no easy task.

‘Why were your team members’ mission activities detected by the Inquisition in the early stages?’

‘I understand the Imperial Guard’s counter-espionage section chief approached you at the Imperial Embassy reception. Do you think your cover identity was successful or failed?’

‘Why didn’t you change your schedule after receiving intelligence about a second attack?’

‘There are records of several calls with the Special Activities Division’s operations officer during the mission. Even with encrypted communication, this was quite risky given the intensive surveillance by other intelligence agencies. What were you thinking?’

‘If your and your team members’ identities had been exposed and you were detained locally—in other words, in an emergency situation—did you devise any countermeasures? Please elaborate.’

The commanders bombarded me as if they were trying to separate my bones from my flesh. Handling the barrage of questions from more than a dozen colonels was extremely difficult. If words had physical force, I would have been dismembered and scattered across the conference room floor long ago.

But I racked my brain and somehow answered their questions, managing to defend myself with reasonably good responses.

And the director, who had been watching, gave the perfunctory evaluation that “with a few more years of experience, you’ll soon be a section chief” and ordered me to “incorporate the directives from the meeting, make necessary improvements, and submit a plan.”

“……”

Alright.

I’ll be honest.

I got screwed.

*

The Military Intelligence Agency operates on a project-based officer system.

This means that every officer in the Military Intelligence Agency handles just one operation.

An operative handles one operation, an investigator investigates one espionage case, an intelligence officer focuses on collecting one type of information.

Of course, this isn’t always a rigid mathematical formula. When things get bigger, personnel are reinforced to handle multiple missions simultaneously. Mainly experienced officers do this.

The problem was that I was the one who had to do it.

Right.

In plain terms, I got screwed.

And thinking about it, there was only one mastermind behind all this.

“Why the long face? Did someone rough you up?”

As if on cue, the very person who orchestrated it all asked me.

“No, sir.”

“No? From what I saw in the conference room, you were getting bombarded.”

A park near the Intelligence Agency.

After the meeting ended, I was heading out through the main gate looking for lodging when Clavins suggested we take a walk, and I meekly followed.

Though called a park, it was essentially a place only Military Intelligence Agency employees could use. The Finance Ministry and City Council had been clamoring that the land was too valuable to be used exclusively and should be opened to citizens, but with the intelligence agency’s power to classify even breathing as confidential, the Military Intelligence Agency easily dismissed these demands.

And this was less a space for taking a brief rest amid a busy day and more a place where intelligence officers could have private conversations. So usually when employees said “let’s go to the park,” it didn’t mean “let’s take a break” but rather “I have something to tell you, follow me.”

In other words, Clavins had something to tell me.

Sure enough, Clavins, who had been walking slowly with his hands behind his back, began to speak.

“How was the meeting? Was it manageable?”

“Yes. It was fine.”

“That’s good.”

He led me onto a trail.

The gravel path had its own atmosphere, and the trees with their reddening leaves provided a surprisingly cool breeze.

Clavins walked silently along the path, and I slowly followed behind him.

“……”

Crunch, crunch. As only the sound of gravel underfoot echoed in the silence, I suddenly began to hear the sound of flowing water.

Looking around, I saw a small stream flowing gently. The water swirling around rocks created a noise loud enough to drown out voices if they were lowered slightly.

Just then, Clavins, who had been walking ahead, slowed down and began to speak.

“Well. I didn’t call you back from leave just to give you more work, but I’m sorry about this.”

“I’m fine with it, sir.”

Clavins offered an unexpected apology with a kind smile.

It wasn’t really something to apologize for—a superior giving orders to a subordinate.

Soldiers follow orders. While calling someone back from leave isn’t ideal…

Regardless, I was a soldier, so Clavins or the director assigning me a mission wasn’t wrong. If they were asking me to do my normal job rather than something strange, complaining would be insubordination.

So I coolly accepted it. It just meant more work, not that my leave was immediately cut short. Besides, creating a plan wouldn’t take that long.

However, there was one thing that still bothered me that I couldn’t just brush off.

“Colonel, sir.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“About what you said earlier.”

What Clavins had said to me. That it would be good for me to attend the meeting.

That kept bothering me.

“What exactly was your intention?”

“Is that so important to you? It was just something I said in passing.”

“Well, yes.”

Clavins avoided answering with a pleasant smile, but I was curious about his intentions.

It wasn’t the most pressing question, but right now it was what I was most curious about. This was a kind of occupational hazard, if you will. Or maybe I had something like a mild paranoia.

My military academy classmates always said my way of thinking was strange, but honestly, this had saved my life more than once, so I couldn’t help it. Habits aren’t easily changed.

After holding back for a moment, Clavins, seemingly lost in thought, continued walking. Then he gradually began to speak.

“It might not be pleasant for you to hear… Well, to summarize simply, there were about two reasons.”

Two reasons.

I racked my brain but couldn’t immediately think of anything, so I asked him for the answer.

“What were they?”

“One was an opportunity to build connections, and the other was an opportunity to build achievements.”

“…Opportunity, you say?”

“Yes. Opportunity.”

Clavins continued his explanation while slowly strolling along the path.

“You might not have known, but your position within the Intelligence Agency wasn’t as solid as you might think.”

“……”

There was no detailed explanation, but I instinctively understood. What he was talking about wasn’t some complex political standing, but my position as an operative.

Clavins continued in a calm tone.

“You probably knew it yourself. That your position was narrower than you thought.”

“…Yes, that’s true.”

It was simple.

I was an officer in the Military Intelligence Agency’s Foreign Operations Department, but when I became Clavins’ aide, I stepped away from operative work.

Considering that operatives are typically selected through fierce competition after accumulating years of knowledge and experience in foreign operations, I relatively lacked the qualifications compared to others actively serving.

Even if I had the qualifications, I hadn’t completed the position transfer training, so I wasn’t a proper operative.

Of course, it’s not that I lacked skill. I just didn’t have objective evidence to prove it here.

“Shortly after you were appointed as an operative, there were opinions from overseas to replace you as the officer in charge. You probably know the reason.”

“Because I lack experience, right?”

“That’s right.”

I understand. Honestly, even I think it’s a valid opinion.

Every argument needs solid grounds, and for civil servants, those grounds are documents. We usually call it a personnel record. Education scores, performance ratings, command recommendations, physical fitness, experience, and so on. All indicators that can evaluate a person are contained in the personnel record, and it’s the only objective way to assess someone.

Looking at that and seeing a gap in experience, they would naturally judge me as unsuitable.

I might feel slighted, but there’s nothing to be done. We were civil servants, after all.

“So why wasn’t I replaced?”

“The situation was awkward. Replacing the officer would mean creating a new credible identity, but we only had a week. You know how much time and cost goes into creating a cover identity.”

“…Now that you mention it, that’s true.”

“But once you were deployed on the mission, things went reasonably well.”

“…Pardon?”

What does that mean? Looking at Clavins, he continued with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“You did quite well, didn’t you?”

“…Ah.”

“When the bomb went off and everyone was in chaos, the three of you ran around gathering information. Everyone thought that with all the confusion, there was no chance for any covert operation, but when we actually assigned it to you, you performed well.”

Come to think of it, after the bomb went off, I dedicated myself to information gathering, barely sleeping.

The three of us took turns sleeping, and every morning I went to the Inquisition to read every available report. At lunch, I visited the wiretapping office to monitor foreign intelligence agencies’ movements, and in the evening, I compiled reports made by Pippin and Jake and sent them to the Intelligence Agency.

I lived like that for a month and a half.

“By that time, the operation analysts said there was no need to replace the officer in charge since you were doing well. After that assessment came in, the situation improved somewhat.”

It seems the analysts who evaluate operations viewed me favorably. People whose faces I’ve never even seen.

Clavins murmured in a calm voice. The same even, flat tone as usual.

“And when you successfully assassinated Cardinal Raoul and the Imperial Guard agents, the evaluation completely flipped. If you’ve been overseas often, you know how dangerous and difficult covert operations are.”

That was true.

Secret operations carry risks comparable to gambling.

If successful, the rewards are substantial, but failure can lead to severe consequences like diplomatic relations being severed, approval ratings plummeting, loss of policy momentum, and even regime change.

Essentially, covert operations are one of only two sucker punches a nation can throw. The other is war. They’re similar in that even success doesn’t easily avoid the aftermath.

There are many examples without looking far. When North Korea was identified as being behind the assassination of Kim Jong-nam in Malaysia, they faced international carpet bombing and eventually severed diplomatic relations with their ally Malaysia. Israel nearly ruined diplomatic relations with Britain after kidnapping a scientist who leaked their nuclear technology. The atmosphere was so hostile that without US mediation, it might have led to a complete break in relations.

When asked if they would risk their political life on this gamble, few policy makers would immediately say “yes.” It was only possible in areas experiencing a quasi-Cold War.

But the fact that covert operations are dangerous gambles is no different here than on Earth.

And I had succeeded in this dangerous gamble.

Very successfully.

“You received help from the operations officer, but you were the one in charge, and the operation succeeded without a hitch, so there was no more talk of replacing you.”

“…I see.”

Clavins nodded.

We had reached the stream, facing the rapidly flowing water.

I had succeeded in the most dangerous operation. But no one in the Intelligence Agency was foolish enough to be blinded by achievements.

“But that doesn’t mean everyone fully trusts you. You must have realized that from attending the meeting.”

“…Yes, I understand.”

The Military Intelligence Agency acknowledged my abilities, but that was it. Even the success of a covert operation wasn’t enough to earn the complete trust of the highest policy makers. In other words, my position was still precarious.

Still, I thought this was pretty good for something done in a hurry, so their assessment seemed too harsh. As I stood there feeling a bit resentful, Clavins suddenly said:

“Make the commanders who attended today’s meeting trust you.”

Win their hearts.

“Use whatever means necessary. Just get in their good graces.”

“……”

“And build up achievements. There might be people who envy those who do well, but no one dislikes them. If you keep accumulating achievements, you’ll eventually establish yourself. You must do this. That’s why I called you to the meeting.”

In simple terms, he was telling me to become irreplaceable, someone they couldn’t easily replace.

I stood by the stream for a moment, pondering.

The reason Clavins was looking out for me like this, why he wanted me to get in the good graces of the commanders at the meeting, and why he brought me all the way here to tell me this.

“……”

“There are more complex circumstances involved, but I’ll stop here. It’s not good for you to know. Anyway, do you understand what I’m saying?”

I didn’t need to think long before answering.

“…Yes, I understand.”

*

Time passed quickly.

Every morning, I examined confidential materials related to the Magic Tower delivered to my lodging and drafted an operation plan. I set objectives, created appropriate structures, and formed teams.

After sketching the overall outline, a fairly plausible plan emerged. I sent these documents, created through nights of work, to the Intelligence Agency.

And in the dark dawn of that day, I received a call from the duty officer saying the director had approved it,

And as the dim light of dawn began to brighten, an Inquisition agent who visited my lodging informed me that the Saint would arrive soon.

And so the morning dawned.