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The protagonist in the photo was a woman with her hat pulled down low.

Black hair and red eyes.

Indeed, it was the assailant. Though I’d only caught a fleeting glance of her face, it was etched in my memory. As I peered at the small photo, Pippin began her report.

“These are the photographs acquired by the agent who was lying in wait.”

She lifted another photo. It captured a figure holding a phone, scanning the surroundings.

“Have you identified her?”

“Ekaterina. 29 years old. She’s an agent from the Imperial Guard HQ with a background in military intelligence.”

“What’s the source of this information?”

“It’s from personnel files of the Imperial Army obtained by our operative.”

“Have you confirmed the likelihood of disinformation?”

“This document was seized from that unit. Its authenticity is indisputable.”

She handed over the papers marked with the Imperial Army’s security emblem. It included a photo of a youthful-looking woman and some basic information.

Poor work ethic. Disobeyed orders. Absconded from post, and more.

It seemed she had caused quite the ruckus before being dishonorably discharged.

“Which department of the Imperial Guard HQ does she belong to?”

“She’s part of the Counterintelligence Department.”

The Counterintelligence Department of the Imperial Guard HQ.

One of those agencies that made countless citizens tremble merely at the mention of its name. They manage political prisoners who have lost their power battles, as well as root out spies.

Those from the Imperial Guard HQ’s Counterintelligence Department were the ones I often crossed paths with during my time handling Kien Empire intelligence.

But why on earth were they operating within a cult?

“The Counterintelligence Department typically operates domestically. I believed foreign operations and intelligence collection fell under the jurisdiction of the Second Department. Is there a mistake in the information?”

“No, there isn’t. I double-checked and confirmed it’s indeed the First Department.”

I pressed Pippin for more details, but judging by her expression, it didn’t seem like she was lying. If it came from the Information Agency, it should be reliable data that had undergone some level of verification.

As someone well-acquainted with the inner workings of intelligence agencies, I understood that even if an agency specializes in a single task, there are numerous divisions handling different responsibilities once you peel back the layers.

For instance, I collected overseas intelligence while Colonel Clevenz was responsible for counterintelligence.

In fact, I didn’t really know what exactly Colonel Clevenz did. I only heard he dealt with spies. It’s common in security-sensitive agencies not to know each other’s operations.

Thus, within intelligence agencies, many departments exist, and unless you’re a high-ranking official, you won’t have a clear picture of each other’s functions.

This means that it’s rare for anyone to intrude upon another’s territory. If someone were to do so deliberately, you’d find the heads of the agencies throwing off their rank insignias and resorting to fisticuffs in a conference room. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. In this neighborhood, it’s the norm for parliament members to whip out knives to silence opposing speeches.

In this context,

the embassy’s counterintelligence agent relaying terror-related information to me.

The ambush I faced from a former military intelligence counterintelligence agent.

Agents from the Imperial Guard HQ had crossed the line.

Why did they do it?

“Should we tail her?”

“…Yeah.”

Something definitely smells fishy.

—

Episode 2 – Heroes of the Continent

“Colonel Frederick?”

“Oh, I apologize, Your Eminence.”

Raul’s inquiry jolted me from my thoughts.

My mind was tangled over the information Pippin had recently brought, causing me to lose track of our conversation.

I speared a piece of meat with my fork and popped it into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Yum.

“You’re quite busy with the recent events.”

“Not at all. I’m fine.”

Cardinal Raphael smiled gently from across the table.

Raul, Raphael, and several other cardinals were seated around the round table, slicing through beautifully prepared beef—a feast hard to come by in these times.

“I imagine it’s tiring keeping watch over our hero, but I hope we’re not causing a burden, haha!”

One of the nameless cardinals chuckled, buttering us up.

I felt uncomfortable at the table where heads manipulating the organization gathered, unable to tell whether the food was going in my mouth or my nose.

“It seems thanks to the Colonel, the event venue feels significantly safer…”

“That’s a truly wise observation. Perhaps it’s because he’s military, but his expertise stands out.”

“Indeed… he inspires confidence.”

Wrinkles adorned the faces of the elderly men as they beamed at me. For fervent followers of the church, it might feel like an honor, but knowing they were more like raccoons with their bellies stuffed with snakes, those hollow praises didn’t sit well with me.

“By the way, I’m enjoying the fountain pen you gifted me.”

One cardinal smiled, holding up the fountain pen.

It was a recent offering sent to high-ranking officials of the church. A bribe, essentially.

“Is it true it’s a fountain pen only used by the court officials of the Kingdom of Abas? The writing experience is certainly splendid!”

“I’m honored to hear that you like it.”

I took another piece of meat and chewed, savoring the flavor.

Now that I thought carefully about it, considering the relationships among attendees, this was indeed a rather unique situation.

Raul and Raphael were at odds over the next Pope’s position.

Raul was steadily solidifying his influence within the church as a supporter of High Priestess Lucia, while Raphael had drawn heavy criticism due to a failed security incident while attending to the hero.

To praise professionalism right in front of Raphael after mentioning safety…

“….”

When I glanced at Raphael, I noticed the corners of his mouth twitching.

It seemed his pride as a former Inquisition Director had taken a hit.

Goodness, how am I supposed to eat in a place like this?

Perhaps Raphael shared my sentiment, as he set down his utensils and interrupted the flow of conversation.

“Well, it seems we’re finishing up with the meal… let’s discuss future plans.”

—

The key agenda for scheduling was the official recognition of Camila Lowell as a hero.

The process was simpler than expected. You just needed to listen to some appropriately philanthropic speech in front of people, after which the Pope would grant baptism and blessings, thus officially recognizing the hero.

However, a brief discussion erupted concerning the safety of the venue, concluding with the decision to limit attendees to officials and deploy a considerable security force.

Everything flowed smoothly until that point.

But the real issue was when to hold the event.

The first to voice an opinion was Cardinal Raphael.

“As you are aware, security is paramount. I believe it’s appropriate to keep the detailed schedule confidential and proceed swiftly.”

Raphael insisted on moving quickly to prevent any potential terrorist threats.

As the former Inquisition Director and the one in charge of the hero’s security, his request for prompt action was grounded in preventing any greater disaster.

It was a sound argument.

If a bomb were to go off with the Pope and cardinals and notable figures present, containment would be impossible. Thus, Raphael’s suggestion for maximum safety, albeit lacking in flair, gained traction.

That continued until Raul stepped in.

“The ceremony for the hero’s appointment is a historic event. Given its significance, it should be conducted openly, investing time and effort for the public.”

Raul had appealed to principle.

The church had rapidly expanded its power by taking advantage of the continent’s crises. However, owing to the recent terror incident, their position had been shaken.

Besides me, everyone present was a senior church official, parasites sucking the blood of the church’s stature.

If the beleaguered church held the hero’s appointment ceremony privately, what would be the public’s reaction?

They would undoubtedly criticize them for cowering and curling up in fear of the terror threat.

To reiterate, this world is not a beautiful one.

People can’t stand seeing others succeed and would stab you in the back given the opportunity.

If the church’s influence shrank, the cardinals holding positions would face massive losses.

None of them are pure believers; they are hybrids, half-political and half-business figures. Therefore, the potential for financial and political fallout is considerable.

Of course, whether the church’s influence would truly diminish or whether the cardinals would take a hit was anyone’s guess.

However, humans are creatures that believe only what they want to believe, and conspiracy theories require no evidence.

It was apparent several cardinals were swayed by Raul’s words.

“Cardinal Raul, are you suggesting that the history a few lines could take precedence over people’s safety?”

“Safety is crucial, yet when considering the church’s current standing and the hero’s position, I believe a public ceremony would be more beneficial.”

When opinions clash, people typically engage in discussions.

But humans are emotional beings, especially when significant stakes are involved.

So what happens next?

“I’ve already stated safety is our top priority…”

“Then you should have ensured that safety. What was the Inquisition doing while the bomb detonated?”

“Cardinal Raul!”

Chaos erupted.

The elderly men turned beet red, veins standing out on their necks.

“Is the safety of the Pope and the hero less important than the church’s position?”

“Isn’t overcoming hardships and trials sent by the divine our calling?”

“Are you mad!? People are dying here!”

“What? Is this blasphemy…!”

Soon, the elderly officials from the Public Security and Election sectors began hurling insults at one another.

Before long, the cardinals were split in half, squabbling.

What a ridiculous situation. In the 21st century, this would be breaking news, but in this neck of the woods, this is more like cute behavior.

In this neighborhood, it’s common for politicians to engage in knife fights to silence opposing speeches, or for participants at debates to throw punches at each other.

In a place where human life is worth less than a fly’s, merely exchanging insults would be seen as endearing.

Of course, it’s a blatant disgrace to hurl insults at a young person, but this just indicates how furious they are, enough to disrespect me in such a way.

Human beings ought to be careful with their words, yet the conversation was getting out of hand.

“Blasphemy? You bastard! Didn’t I tell you to watch your mouth with that loose tongue?!”

“Oh, hey! Who’s grabbing my collar…!”

“Should I bring up what you did at the convent six years ago? Huh? You think the Inquisition doesn’t know?!”

“W-What are you saying!”

Clearly, the public security veteran had a commanding presence in his voice.

He was rather imposing, dragging Raul around by the collar.

Noticing the escalating situation late, the cardinals were struggling to separate the two.

“Y-Yes! Calm down!”

“Raphael! Please, let go!”

This was comedy gold.

Not wanting to be dragged into that mess, I took out the fountain pen from my pocket and started spinning it while I cleared my throat.

“…Ahem.”

“….”

“….”

“Have you calmed down?”

The two old men managed to regain their composure and straighten their clothing. The dining table was now stained with spilled wine, and shattered dishes littered the floor.

What a disaster.

“…We’ve made quite a scene. My apologies.”

“Well, conversations can become heated with differing opinions. After all, aren’t there plenty of unsolvable issues in this world?”

“Thank you for understanding.”

I smiled brightly as I tucked the pen back into my pocket and stood up.

“Let’s take a moment to gather our thoughts and take a break.”

“…Very well.”

“….”

Cardinal Raul hastily headed for the exit, while Cardinal Raphael shot me an apologetic look as he followed in Raul’s wake.

The cardinals split precisely in half, rushing after Raul and Raphael. It seemed they were divided into factions.

Recalling their faces, I figured I’d need to conduct some background checks when I returned to the embassy.

“….”

Sitting alone in the empty banquet hall, I rested my chin on my hand, bringing the fountain pen close to my ear.

*Click.*

*-‘…Cardinal Raul. Are you saying the few lines in history matter more than people’s safety?’*

*-‘Blasphemy? You bastard! Didn’t I tell you to watch your mouth with that loose tongue?!’*

*-‘Oh, hey! Who’s grabbing my collar…!’*

*-‘Should I bring up what you did at the convent six years ago? Huh? You think the Inquisition doesn’t know?!’*

*-‘W-What are you saying!’*

“…So, it’s about what happened at the convent six years ago.”

It seemed Raphael had some amusing tales tucked away. I twirled the fountain pen a few more times before his furious voice echoed in my memory.

*Click.*

*-‘…Indeed, that Raul is a problem. A real problem!’*

*-‘Settle down, Raphael. Regardless, how could you bring that up?’*

*-‘If we think about it, the true blasphemy was Raul’s! How could a bishop act in such a manner…!’*

“…Oh wow.”

Though the meeting turned chaotic, I gathered some useful information.

Indeed, humans ought to watch their mouths.

Listening devices are everywhere.

 

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