Ch.605Episode 22 – The Kazinsky Test

Where does trust in others come from? The answer to this question varies greatly from person to person.

Some open their hearts based on social experiences and culture, while others may offer support after careful consideration of mutual interests, like a zero-sum game. Perhaps it might even originate from somewhat impulsive emotional pulses.

One thing is clear, though: placing trust in someone requires a tremendous decision.

Trust is what humans need most to live.

Human society grows and develops within unwavering, solid trust and belief.

The moment that trust breaks, communities formed on the foundation of trust collapse, and people inevitably falter.

“…Hmph.”

The reason I, who usually gets feverish at the mention of philosophy, was caught in such philosophical contemplation was nothing special.

To summarize in one sentence, well…

“Frederick. There’s a report of an unidentified redheaded woman who’s been roaming the outskirts of Bahar all dawn, firing elemental magic everywhere. Could it be the Hero?”

“Pffft-!”

Camilla smacked the back of my head.

Episode 22 – The Kazinski Test

There’s a saying: “Misfortunes never come singly.”

An old expression meaning that misfortune never comes alone. To use a proverb, it’s similar to “when it rains, it pours” or “going from bad to worse.”

A similar four-character idiom would be “adding frost to snow,” and there couldn’t be a better phrase to describe the current situation than “misfortunes never come singly.”

The Abas Embassy to the Lushan Federal Kingdom, a place that never has a quiet day. The talks that had captured everyone’s attention were already in their third day.

Though only three days had passed, the pressure from superiors and the cabinet’s expectations were beyond imagination.

The fact that these talks would determine the foreign policy direction for decades to come could explain some of the pressure and expectations, but the biggest reason was, of course, politics.

The Abas Kingdom was currently on the verge of a general election, the so-called flower of democracy.

Some might wonder if electing members of parliament is really that important, but in Abas, general elections hold significant meaning. Especially since the country adopted a parliamentary system, the significance was far from simple.

Why? Because the party securing the most seats in parliament forms and leads the cabinet.

That’s why parties in countries like Britain or Japan treat lower house elections as a matter of life and death.

The problem was that the Abas general election was taking an odd turn.

The majority party, which had been celebrating victories until last year, had experienced a sharp decline in support over the past year.

Due to failed economic policies and rapid changes in international markets, prices had skyrocketed like Bitcoin, and interventionist foreign policies had failed to achieve tangible results, facing criticism from parties across the political spectrum.

Naturally, public sentiment had also taken a hit.

The opposition was calling for judgment on the administration while advocating isolationism.

Promising a major shake-up, they were performing an enthusiastic courtship dance toward the public, saying “please elect me,” and public opinion was gradually trending toward a change of government. The cabinet was naturally mocked as being essentially worthless.

Of course, sitting idle would certainly lead to their downfall, so the Prime Minister had devised a breakthrough.

That breakthrough was the current four-party talks between Abas, Lushan, Kiyen, and Ashtistan.

Critics had lashed out with comments like “What’s with this last-minute diplomacy from people about to lose their offices? Have you lost your mind, Prime Minister?” But what could he do? If he couldn’t produce concrete results within a few months, he would truly be finished. With fire at his feet, the Prime Minister was in no position to be picky.

However, just because the Prime Minister had put his neck on the line didn’t mean the other parties had any reason to be considerate.

It was the Abas government that was desperate, not the officials of the Kiyen cabinet.

While the Republic of Ashtistan (especially its economic figures), hit by economic sanctions, was screaming “We’re really going to die at this rate!” seeing the stagnant talks,

The Empire of Kiyen, which had positioned itself as an active mediator until just before the talks, was now shouting “Then die!” and exercising its veto power on any agenda items slightly unfavorable to them, throwing punches and kicks in all directions…

This was the result of the talks so far.

It was an extremely awkward situation. Regarding Kiyen Empire’s suddenly reversed attitude, some speculated about “Nikolai VI’s senility,” “conflicts between the Crown Prince and other princesses,” or “Prime Minister Stolypin’s negotiation tactics,” but no one knew the truth.

As the situation deteriorated, the cabinet also seemed to be losing patience. The Abas government began a tit-for-tat confrontation targeting Kiyen.

From human rights abuses against minority groups within the empire to illegal support for terrorist organizations, especially allegations of collusion with rebels in the Moratani continent (the coup incident of Captain Kasim of the Zamria Federation was explicitly mentioned), and so on.

In this context, the burden on the negotiating teams gathered in Bahar and the embassies supporting them was increasing daily.

That’s why I was being ground down along with other civil servants.

Then, at that moment.

An unexpected incident occurred.

“…Cough, cough!”

Drinking water when the thunderbolt news hit, I was startled and choked, coughing.

“Keh… W-what did you just say?”

“I asked if the Hero used magic in the outskirts of the city.”

Klevins, who had left the meeting room, asked with a somewhat worried voice. I hurriedly pulled out a tissue and wiped my mouth.

“No. I don’t know anything about that.”

“Do you mean you don’t know, or that it hasn’t been confirmed?”

“It hasn’t been confirmed.”

“I see.”

Klevins nodded thoughtfully and carefully added:

“Have you contacted the Hero?”

“Yes. I did this morning… There was nothing unusual.”

“Alright.”

As if acknowledging my response, he nodded again. He patted my shoulder, told me to keep up the good work, and left.

The room where the working-level officials gathered was clearly visible from the corridor. This meant I could see the deputy minister asking Klevins something as he opened the door and entered.

Judging by the lip movements, it seemed to translate roughly as “What did they say?”

“…”

After glancing sideways at the atmosphere in front of the slowly closing door, I crept away, keeping an eye on people’s reactions.

“Where are you going?”

“Ah, I thought the delegates might be thirsty… I was just going to buy some coffee.”

“Perfect timing! They were actually looking for drinks inside. Here, I’ll write down what they want on this notepad, and you can bring it all back.”

“Y-yes.”

I had a brief moment of panic when I encountered a diplomat near the entrance, but no major issues arose.

I headed outside with the memo in hand to buy over thirty drinks.

My destination was a coffee shop near the National Convention Center.

Perhaps because foreign journalists had swarmed around the conference venue creating a commotion, the part-time worker, overwhelmed by the flood of orders, started to twitch at the corners of their mouth when I showed them the order list.

“Y-yes, customer. I’ll make them right away…”

They seemed to be gritting their molars while speaking, but that wasn’t particularly important.

Leaving the trembling part-timer behind, I quickly sat down at a table where loud music was playing.

Damn it.

While small curses bubbled up inside me, I took out my secure mobile phone and rapidly dialed a number.

-Ring ring…

-Ring ring…

-Ring, click!

As the connection tone seemed unusually long, the melody cut off and a voice began to echo in my ear.

-“The customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again…”

At the same time, my mouth fell open.

“Camilla, you pig-“

*

Around the time Frederick was burying his face in a coffee shop table and letting out a silent scream, Camilla was letting out a real scream.

“…What should I do? I’m doomed.”

Her pupils shook uncontrollably as she stared at the small screen.

Her large, sparkling blue eyes were stained with undisguisable despair and pessimism, and her teeth clicked together as she gnawed on her thumbnail.

The secure line mobile phone showed about 20 missed calls.

As if that wasn’t enough, countless text messages were continuously updating, all of them cries from Frederick.

[Please answer the phone.]

[Let’s talk. If you see this, contact me. I swear I won’t get angry.]

[Or at least text me back.]

[Call me.]

[Please respond somehow, I’m begging you.]

He was practically about to blow up her phone with missed call alerts.

It was clear at a glance that anger had risen to the top of Frederick’s head. However, Camilla couldn’t bring herself to answer or make a call.

Because she knew all too well what kind of reaction she would get from him if she heard his voice now.

In modern slang, she was scared stiff.

“Ugh…”

Camilla removed the magical battery from her mobile phone with trembling hands. She thought it might be better to claim she couldn’t answer because the battery was dead.

While Frederick was the person most fervently curious about her well-being, there were many others trying to contact Camilla as well.

For starters, there were Francesca and Lucia.

Even if Arkandea couldn’t contact her because she wasn’t familiar with modern conveniences, those two had plenty of means of communication at their disposal.

Like this communication crystal, for instance.

The bluish cold light characteristic of magical power seeped out from the orb, which reminded her of the black crystal that stood out in her mind alongside the One Ring.

-Woooong…

As blurry letters gradually took shape over the glossy glass surface,

Camilla gulped down dry saliva and read the messages.

[I saw you going out for a drink, but you seem to be coming back late. I’m worried something might have happened to you. Though I know you’re not the type to get hurt and come back.]

[Did you find St. Veronica safely? Since the saint hasn’t contacted me yet, it seems the number I gave you was correct. Oh, and Sister Rebecca mentioned that the saint sneaked out to drink again… I would appreciate it if you could warn her to refrain from excessive drinking. See you in the morning.]

[Camilla? Can you contact me? I just received word from the magic tower that someone came to the consulate general asking about your whereabouts. They said it was a diplomat from the Lushan Federation.]

[The parish priest says that His Holiness Raphael has urgently summoned St. Veronica. Is there some problem? I contacted the Pope, but to my ears, he spoke with quite an angry voice.]

[…I saw the news this morning, and that’s not you, right? I believe it isn’t.]

[…I know you’re with Veronica. Please tell her not to do anything and just stay put.]

These were messages from Francesca and Lucia.

This level was fairly normal. At least they were asking with refined expressions rather than raging like Frederick; they were just messages checking on her well-being.

But the real problem lay elsewhere.

Camilla scrolled down the screen with a tense face, prayed to the sky, and opened a single text message.

[Was it you.]

A single message. Just two words.

The text sent by Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrova through the crystal contained an extremely simple and clear meaning.

Since the message was received in the late morning, considering the time difference, it would have been around dawn in the northern part of the empire. And as far as Camilla knew, her old-fashioned teacher had a unique habit.

That was reading the newspaper while having breakfast. This was something the Grand Duchess had shown every morning during their time together.

In other words,

The time the message arrived was when Alexandra Petrova was eating breakfast and catching up on the news that had occurred overnight.

It was the moment she realized that the protagonist of the commotion that had occurred throughout the dawn was her disciple.

“Gyaaaah-“

After confirming the Grand Duchess’s message, Camilla was startled out of her wits. She was so shocked that she even threw the crystal up into the air and jumped up and down.

“How did she know?! She said she was sleeping in the north tonight…!”

Of course, there was only one reason why the Grand Duchess could have noticed it was her doing.

Because she had seen her disciple setting fires in foreign countries countless times before.

Any decent mage or sorcerer would know that the penalties for magical crimes were overwhelmingly higher than for ordinary violent crimes, so they wouldn’t casually throw magic around. That was the behavior of necromancers or exiled mages.

Of course, Camilla didn’t know that.

Because she was the Hero.

Most illegal activities were overlooked by governments with a “well, these things happen when you’re doing good deeds,” and legal punishments or damage claims were routinely settled at the local judiciary level.

The only people who cared about such things were Frederick, who had to clean up after the accidents caused by the Saint, the Alchemist, and the Great Warrior,

And Alexandra Petrova, who was boiling with anger at her disciple’s habit of violating the precepts created by her teacher and the laws of the magical world.

So it was only natural that the Grand Duchess spat out her morning soup after receiving the newspaper from her attendant.

It was an amazing act of attention (or reasonable suspicion based on big data) that only a teacher who knew her disciple’s habits well could demonstrate.

But Camilla didn’t know that. She was just flustered that a great mage thousands of kilometers away could figure out it was her doing just from a few lines in a newspaper.

That’s why she was trembling and messing up her hair.

“I’m doomed. This is really bad…”

“…”

Whether she was looking for a hole to hide in, Camilla was trembling like a wet cat and rolling her eyes around.

That’s why Veronica stared at her and smiled with an incredulous look.

“Are you really. That worried about getting scolded?”

“Yes… I’ll be really, really severely scolded.”

“Oh my.”

She was on the verge of losing her mind, but the response was incredibly calm.

It was late lunchtime. The two had found an unknown hole-in-the-wall shop on the outskirts and were sitting together with a few dishes ordered.

In the dining area where the savory aroma of rice wafted through, rice grains were being diligently fried in a huge pot, and the fried rice was piled like a mountain on an iron plate, showing the owner’s generosity.

Looking at the fried rice served by a woman wearing a baggy skirt, Camilla chewed her lips with a gloomy expression. She was hungry but had lost her appetite.

“You should eat. We might have to move again tonight.”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“Eat even if you don’t have one.”

The wall next to the table was covered with faded posters, and a fan that had turned yellow with age blew a faint breeze.

Veronica leaned against the wall with a cigarette in her mouth and added in a mumbling voice:

“Besides, you were so excited fighting werewolves last night. Why are you whining now?”

“I was never excited…”

“Then who was it that was hopping around on rooftops and walls~?”

Hiing.

A sorrowful sound escaped from Camilla’s neck as she lay down, seemingly at a loss for words.

*

Whether “hunting” is the appropriate expression is questionable, but to summarize what the two had been doing all dawn, it was roughly this:

‘Werewolf hunting.’

The location was the outskirts of Bahar, the capital of the Lushan Federation. She had been chasing werewolves with the Saint, who was armed with consecrated firearms.

It would be difficult to summarize everything that happened during the night, but Camilla tried to recall the situations as best she could.

The first battle took place at their initial encounter.

It turned out to be a place where a werewolf had killed the original bartender and stolen the establishment.

Camilla first drew attention with magic, and Veronica simply dispatched the werewolf by shooting it between the eyes with her revolver.

The second battle was fought in an abandoned building.

It was a lodging facility where every new tenant died within ten days of moving in. Even after it became a haunted house, curious explorers still visited the place, but recently, several visitors and neighboring residents had disappeared without a trace, and now even the entrance was sealed with chains.

The place had gained the ominous rumor of being “possessed by an evil spirit,” so Veronica had brought holy water just in case, but as expected, the deaths of the tenants were not the work of an evil spirit but of werewolves.

The truth behind the rumors was revealed when they encountered a couple of homeless people.

Two or three homeless individuals, drawn to the light, shielded their eyes from the lantern’s beam, frowned, and picked a fight, saying “Get out now.” The two women responded with fire that wouldn’t easily extinguish and .38 caliber silver bullets.

The abandoned building, which had been both a den and hunting ground for werewolves, was thus cleared.

The third battle was somewhat sudden.

As they were wandering the streets before sunrise, the werewolves initiated the fight. Although chronologically it wasn’t the third battle, Camilla couldn’t help but remember this one.

Why had that werewolf done that? It could have just run away.

There was no need to attack them.

As she tilted her head with a puzzled murmur, Veronica, who had picked up a fork, kindly resolved her curiosity.

“It was probably because of the blood smell.”

“Smell?”

“Mm-hmm.”

When Camilla, deep in thought, asked back, Veronica gently waved her fork and replied:

“We had already killed quite a few werewolves before going there. The smell of their kin’s blood must have been vibrating from our bodies, so it probably noticed early on.”

“Ah… So it’s like a kind of pheromone. That’s fascinating.”

To react like that just from the smell of blood. Is it because they’re a different species?

“It’s not that fascinating. Even therianthropes are born with that level of sense of smell. You’d be surprised at how sharp elves’ ears are in the forest.”

Veronica detached her back from the wall and grinned.

Actually, more than the sense of smell, what was more surprising was the sheer number of werewolves.

Even in a fantasy-like world, it was concerning whether it was possible for werewolves to harm people in a national capital.

“I didn’t expect there to be so many werewolves. We faced more than 10 just this dawn… There must be more, right?”

Well, who knows.

“That’s something nobody knows. Only the original old fogey in heaven would know.”

“…”

“But now that I think about it, it is suspicious.”

Veronica tilted her head with a mysterious smile.

“It’s unusual for werewolves to gather in one city. We’ve encountered just over ten individuals, which is too many for a wild pack, but they didn’t seem like a clan either…?”

It was a somewhat incomprehensible soliloquy. Both the listener and the speaker felt that way.

What exactly was suspicious?

Camilla asked for a detailed explanation, and Veronica gladly accepted the request.

“Werewolves, commonly known as lycans, are demons with pack-living habits. Like ordinary wolves, they form territories and live in family units.”

“…”

“However, if there’s a clear difference between werewolves and regular wolves, it would be in how they form packs. Werewolves often form groups even with other werewolves who aren’t blood relatives.”

“Even with werewolves who aren’t family?”

“Yes. That’s their unique characteristic.”

While wolves sometimes accept unrelated wolves into their pack, they basically form packs with their own families.

But werewolves are different.

Even if they aren’t blood relatives, werewolves can join other packs, and they can accept other werewolves as members.

Sometimes they even merge packs, according to the Saint’s explanation.

“…Is that possible?”

“Of course.”

Slurp, after savoring her tea, the Saint posed a counter-question.

“Hero, do you know where werewolves originated from?”

“No, I don’t know that.”

“It’s the northern part of Kiyen and the East Moratani continent. Well, to be precise, it would be the very edge of the north.”

This was new information. Camilla started to lean forward carefully, setting aside her spoon that had been stirring rice grains.

According to the ancient texts Veronica had read, the werewolf species originally had two regions of origin.

One was the edge of northern Kiyen, close to the “Frozen Land” known as the magical realm.

The other was the East Moratani continent, where the earth was so rich in magical energy that “sun stones” could be found.

“The north and the East Moratani continent are special regions. Just as the magic stones produced from the rifts in these two places contain unique magical powers, the earth itself is infused with extraordinary energy.”

“…Sun stones. I remember hearing about them in Ashtistan. They said it was their representative resource.”

“The origin of werewolves lies right there. That’s where lycans first appeared.”

Of course, in modern society, the actual habitat of werewolves is limited to the East Moratani continent.

Why? Because the werewolves living in the north were almost all exterminated by humans.

Veronica spoke about that part in a calm tone.

“Originally, werewolves lived in the north too, but most have been exterminated. To be precise, the werewolf population dried up during the process of subjugating demons and monsters in the north under the imperial edict of the Smirnoff royal family hundreds of years ago.”

“…”

“So currently, werewolves only inhabit the East Moratani continent. Well, even there, they’re half endangered due to hunting by the old Ashtistan royal family and Al Yabd.”

Anyway.

“To conclude, werewolves form packs easily because of survival. When considering the entire species, the werewolf population isn’t what it used to be.”

A change for species preservation. Or evolution.

The change Veronica spoke of had the character of a struggle.

“…”

Camilla focused on her explanation with a rather serious face. While it would be quite a tragic history from the werewolves’ perspective, she could understand the human perspective as well.

Coexisting with monsters that eat people wasn’t an easy story for humans either.

“But it is suspicious, for sure. Even though the Lushan Federation is close to the Moratani continent, I didn’t expect so many lycans to be hiding in the capital, Bahar.”

“What’s it usually like?”

Veronica shrugged nonchalantly.

“Typically, there would be at most five werewolves inhabiting a city. Statistics vary, but big cities like Bahar have many watchful eyes, so they tend to avoid them. For ten werewolves to reside in one area, they’d probably need to go to the countryside or remote areas.”

Countryside? Remote areas?

Camilla, who had been about to take a spoonful of rice, started looking around like a meerkat.

This place was clearly a big city.

“But why are there ten of them here…?”

“If I knew that, I would have told you already, but honestly, I don’t know. There’s not a single plausible reason.”

“…”

“If it were the East Moratani continent, I could understand. But the Lushan Federation is across the sea, quite far away. How did they get here? They would have undergone screening at immigration, or rather, was there even a way for them to reach Bahar in the first place?”

It was truly bizarre.

Why were werewolves that only live across the sea hiding in this city?

Just as she was munching on fried rice, lost in thought, a new dish arrived. It was Veronica’s portion.

She wiped her hands clean, picked up a fork and knife, and quietly began to speak.

“Let’s eat quickly and rest. You should get plenty of rest since we might have to move again tonight.”

“Yes.”

The two focused on their food, forgetting their conversation. It was natural to be hungry after adventuring around the city since the crack of dawn.

Of course, from Camilla’s perspective, who had briefly napped and then belatedly checked her missed calls, her appetite had completely disappeared.

But she still needed to eat something to keep her strength up.

“Ooh…”

Steam was rising from the shawarma (شَاوَرْمَا: a type of kebab commonly eaten in the Middle East and Levant region) that had just been served.

Veronica savored that warmth and took a big bite of the soft bread.

“Mm, delicious.”

“What does it taste like? It looks like a kebab.”

“Tangy and greasy. There’s also a slightly sour taste. Is it the sauce? I’m not sure, but anyway, that’s how it is.”

“Can I try a little bit?”

“No. If you start with ‘just one bite,’ I think you’ll end up eating my portion too.”

The meal atmosphere was in full swing.

The late breakfast, mainly consisting of grains and meat, was better than imagined. Completely forgetting about the missed calls and messages, Camilla devoured the plates relentlessly.

The girl on a solo restaurant tour and the woman puffing on tobacco were quite an unusual combination, but no one gave them a second glance.

The Lushan Federation itself was known for religious tourism and was a secular state without religious coloring, so hardly anyone cared what people did.

In many ways, it reminded her of Turkey, which she had visited long ago, but since she was hungry, Camilla pushed aside random thoughts and concentrated on wielding her spoon, while Veronica continued to fiddle with her communication crystal.

That’s when it happened.

When the ringtone sounded.

Thinking it might be her phone, she searched her pockets, but Veronica stood up from her seat in front.

“I’ve got a call. Just a moment.”

“Take your time!”

She went outside with the communication crystal. After chatting for quite a while, nodding her head several times with a serious expression, she strode back to Camilla.

“We need to go. Let’s leave quickly.”

What’s going on?

Camilla gulped down her food while examining Veronica’s urgent expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“The Grand Duchess is looking for you. There have been sightings just now in the heart of Bahar.”

“…Eek.”

This was an emergency.

Veronica slung the gun case she had been leaning against over her shoulder, and Camilla hurriedly paid the bill, then covered her face with sunglasses and a headscarf.

Where should we go now? If the professor catches me, I’m really done for…

While she was muttering worriedly to herself, the Saint’s voice continued like a ray of salvation.

“Don’t worry, we have a place to go. A place where even the Grand Mage can never come.”

“Really!? Where is that!?”

“Strictly speaking, it’s not a place but a person… But that doesn’t matter. Regardless of the location, if that person is there, all mages will avoid it.”

“There’s such a person?”

Who could it be?

Just as she was about to continue with her puzzled soliloquy, Veronica added, a step ahead of her:

“It’s the person who tipped me off about the werewolves’ whereabouts.”

“…The person who said they’d help if we caught the werewolves?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

The Saint of the Order lightly adjusted her gun case.

One of the few people who could demand a deal from just two saints.

A cleric who appointed himself as the protector of faith because he was the most devout, and who punished countless heretics because he was the most fanatical.

A spy whom no one could suspect for that very reason.

A living legend in many ways, the best of the best.

“Let’s go see Commissioner Peter.”