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As the sun began to set, the dark clouds gathering in the sky whistled through the night, shaking the windows relentlessly and howling like a banshee.

If that wasn’t enough, it suddenly began to pour rain like a waterfall.

What had seemed like a few large raindrops rattling against the silent darkness of the desert now transformed into a rain shower that fell mercilessly.

[The curse incident that occurred in the streets of Begram, the capital of the Arakosia Dominion, has resulted in over 20 casualties….]

[In the Mauritania Continent’s capital of Oea (Ὀία), military clashes have caused around 80 casualties. As of the 17th, ports and warp gates have been closed.]

[The Tispon Republic’s military is considering declaring martial law. Civic leaders have issued a statement in unified protest. Mayor Hussain bin Abdullah Sulaiman’s aides are in contact with some civic leaders.]

Amidst checking the intel from various branches throughout the night, I suddenly turned my gaze at a presence I felt unexpectedly.

“Ugh….”

Wrapped in blankets, Camila was squirming on the bed.

Thick raindrops pounded on the steel slate, and as the hand-sized bugs whizzed against the window and disappeared in pursuit of the dim light from the device and the fireplace, she remained blissfully asleep, unaware.

The voice of Al-Yabd’s timekeeper, announcing prayer times, jolted me awake.

A tiny alarm rang, signaling that departure time was approaching, but the owner of the alarm still lingered in dreamland.

“……”

I turned off the alarm before she could wake.

Then, I straightened the disheveled pillow and laid Camila’s head comfortably.

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

As dawn broke and the day began to brighten, we gathered our belongings and exited the lodging.

“Sorry for sleeping in. I was trying to wake up on time….”

“It’s fine.”

Rubbing her sleepy eyes, Camila apologized. Even though she had set the alarm to coincide with Al-Yabd’s dawn prayer, she still couldn’t wake up. I brushed off her apology, reminding her it was no big deal as I loaded our bags into the trunk.

Checking my watch hidden under my sleeve, I saw the tiny magic stone hanging on the tips of the hour and minute hands faintly glowing as it indicated 5:36.

I opened the car door and helped Camila in first. Since the backseat was occupied with equipment obtained from Abas and the black market, she had to sit in the passenger seat.

As she squeezed into the passenger seat with a grunt, Camila poked her head out just before I closed the door to look up at me.

“…So, when did you get the car?”

“I got it from a friend.”

The vehicle was a gift from Victor.

I heard it belonged to a local dignitary who lived in a fancy mansion with a garden, but when goblins with red flags stormed in, he hastily sold it to Victor before fleeing abroad. There were also some land and buildings included.

Camila nodded, as if she understood.

“Whoever it is, he seems like a capable friend.”

The heavy downpour that had raged all night had long since turned into light droplets. The storm-like wind, too, had dissipated by dawn, leaving only the dark clouds behind.

I grabbed the steering wheel, bending my waist lightly as I turned on the ignition.

“Our goal is to arrive at our destination before lunch prayers start. It should take about 2 to 2 and a half hours on the highway. As for the explanation… we can go through it slowly on the way.”

“Got it.”

“Fasten your seatbelt if you’re ready.”

The vehicle began to lurch forward, kicking up a mound of mud.

*

The images people have of Africa and the Middle East are generally not great.

Some might think of vast deserts and barren lands, while others might picture backward districts with poor security and infrastructure.

However, the moment one sets foot in Africa and the Middle East, the expansive urban landscape reminiscent of 1970s Korea quickly dispels any misunderstandings about the continent.

“It’s my first time wandering around here in the early morning.”

Camila leaned toward the window, peering outside.

“I guess you only went out during the day?”

“It’s dangerous at night. Especially for foreigners.”

I was curious about what the city looked like at night, but Camila never ventured out once darkness fell. There were warnings to stay as safe as possible.

“What do you think of it seeing it firsthand?”

“Umm….”

Lowering the window slightly, Camila rested her chin on the frame, taking in the bluish urban scenery with both eyes.

The morning city was incredibly quiet. While it couldn’t compare to Seoul or London, the roads were quite spacious, and surprisingly tall buildings brushed shoulders with shorter ones.

Small bushes and palm trees divided the lanes, and quirky signs, penned in what looked like Arabic or Persian script, passed by through the fallen leaves.

Though I hadn’t formally learned the common languages of the Mauritania Continent, I had no trouble reading and understanding the signs. Camila’s eyes darted over the signs that zipped by: pharmacy, teahouse, restaurant, magic charging station, butcher shop, supermarket…. Names that carried a strong scent of humanity.

“…Not bad, actually.”

I gently turned the steering wheel, taking the outer roads of the new city area.

The fastest route to the highway would be through the old town, but it would be risky to head there with Camila in the passenger seat when I didn’t have any team members to back me up. It was better to take a longer, safer route.

The vehicle wound around the capital, passing through the eastern exit.

The height of the buildings began to gradually decrease, the shiny exteriors faded away, and soon the view was filled with a flat, unremarkable landscape. Long, stretched roads and bumpy dirt paths appeared, dotted with sparse trees and rolling hills. Though it was my first time visiting, it felt oddly familiar on the highway.

Since it was dawn, there were hardly any vehicles on the highway. Just a dilapidated white truck that exceeded its loading limit and a few busy mini-buses and coaches ferrying passengers here and there.

I glanced back and forth between the rearview and side mirrors, ensuring we weren’t being followed. Then, I pointed to the glove compartment in the passenger seat.

“Camila, could you grab the documents in there?”

“What kind are you talking about… Ah, here they are.”

Camila rummaged in the dark, retrieving the documents from the inside of the glove box.

It was part of an information document produced by the Military Intelligence Agency.

Avoiding the potholes, I opened the conversation while steering.

“There are three groups of warlords active in this region.”

Warlords who maintain neutrality and aim for self-sufficiency or Mauritania-centric ambitions.

Warlords with strong ties to dictatorial states including the Kien Empire.

And warlords who are on casual terms with democratic nations like the Kingdom of Abas.

If we assume to label them as Group 1, 2, and 3 for convenience.

My plan is to instigate an armed conflict between Group 1 (the centrist warlords) and Group 2 (the pro-Kien Empire warlords).

“…Armed conflict?”

Camila tilted her head, then suddenly responded as if she understood something.

“Oh, right! You mentioned this was one of the candidate regions we’ll be dispatched to, right?”

“Yes.”

The country we were currently in was among the candidate regions to which we would be dispatched, following the northern part of the Kien Empire. To be precise, many countries on the Mauritania Continent were selected as candidate regions.

These were nations ravaged by civil war or plagued by rampaging monsters. Most candidates listed endured one of the two issues. Or sometimes both simultaneously.

My mission was to observe all situations occurring in such candidate regions and eliminate any potential threats to Camila and the team. This included rebels, terrorist organizations, criminal groups, warlords, armed factions, etc.

Of course, Camila wasn’t entirely unaware of this.

“I thought you came here to find new allies….”

She turned to look outside, her voice tinged with concern.

“It’s not too dangerous, right?”

“It’s not as dangerous as you might think. I’ve done it several times before, so I think we can get through this one safely. Plus, I came here partly to find what appears to be a new ally.”

“Is that all?”

Of course not. There were indeed missions to investigate last year’s black magic terrorism incident at Abas Department Store and the demon rampaging in northern Kien.

However, those tasks were assigned to Colonel Clevenz’s Anti-Terror Department and the Inquisition, making them unrelated to this current operation.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Anyway, the objective of this operation was to weaken the warlord forces.

To be more specific, the targets would be the ‘pro-Kien Empire warlords (Group 2)’ and ‘centrist warlords (Group 1)’ that posed threats to the Abas government and our group. While the pro-Kien warlords were being monitored and managed by the Military Intelligence Agency, I had strongly urged my superiors to ensure the centrist warlords were dealt with before Camila was dispatched.

After all, the self-sufficient warlords-primarily focused on Mauritania-continuously reject the influence of external forces. From their perspective, Camila is no different from outsiders such as those from Abas or Kien.

Even if we were to concede and accept Camila, the Magician of the Magic Tower Francesca and the Cleric of the Cult Lucia would inevitably become targets for the centrist warlords. And neither Abas, Kien, nor the Cult would wish for any trouble to befall our group.

And, of course, I wouldn’t want that either.

“In fact, while there are many minor warlords and tribes in this area besides those three groups of warlords, there’s no need to factor them into the calculations.”

“Why not?”

“Minor tribes tend to follow the lead of the major warlords. They listen to the strongest person in the neighborhood.”

To put it another way, targeting the major warlords is the crux of this operation.

“My goal is to weaken Groups 1 and 2. To do this, we need to support Group 3, which has maintained a somewhat friendly relationship with democratic nations.”

Mobilizing Group 3 to strike against Groups 1 and 2. If weakening the forces of Groups 1 and 2 is the primary objective, then enhancing the influence of Group 3 becomes the secondary aim.

If a favorable warlord controls regions where the government forces cannot reach, the chances of getting shot at randomly will at least be reduced. When Lucia comes here, she will likely wander around the countryside offering medical assistance, and maintaining good relations with the warlords governing such regions will be beneficial.

Receiving was quite easy.

Camila quickly agreed after hearing the explanation. It was because she had already experienced a few situations in Africa and the Middle East.

“When I was working with MSF in the past, I had to seek the cooperation of warlords to ensure the safety of volunteers and enter dangerous areas. Of course, a dumb human shot at the bus carrying doctors and nurses, and we almost all died… Anyway, I mean to prevent such situations, right?”

“That’s right. It would be great if we could find new colleagues while we’re at it.”

Warlords of a certain scale are well-versed in information collection, so they might help us find new allies.

By the way, the three groups of warlords were the ones behind the propaganda that Camila saw in the alley.

Camila asked, “How?”

“Currently, the leader of the Hassan Tribe, ‘Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan,’ is at the helm of the three groups’ warlords. He oversees several tribes and has seized a considerable amount of territory. First, we need to make contact with him.”

“Hmm…”

Upon hearing the answer, Camila made a peculiar expression. She didn’t say much, but there was a serious air reflected in her eyes.

“To me, it sounds like the country is secretly supporting foreign warlords. This… is this operation really without issues?”

“Support? We’re going to negotiate.”

“What does the warlord have that would warrant negotiations with the Abas government?”

Well, I slowly contemplated what products these local tribes primarily traded.

Poppies, opium, illegal weapons, ammunition, precious metals, underground resources… They produce ammunition by processing the lead and nitrate mined in the tribe’s territory and sell steel or copper, or precious metals like silver and gold from their owned mines. Of course, the same goes for drug cultivation and production facilities.

All the goods coming from there are items that can’t be distributed legally. They’re products produced illegally in areas controlled by armed groups. Naturally, the Abas government wouldn’t be able to demand those as part of any negotiation.

The Military Intelligence Agency isn’t the CIA, so why would we handle drugs?

“Hmm…”

No matter how I thought about it, this local warlord wasn’t a suitable partner for open trade. Maintaining a decent relationship would rather be beneficial.

“I don’t think they’re the right party to negotiate with. Then, let’s use the English folk game, ‘infighting.'”

“What nonsense is that—”

“Nonsense? It’s not nonsense; ask your tribal blood that flows through your veins.”

“Stop with the weird talk and just finish the explanation!”

In any case, the operation’s content was simple.

The ultimate goal was to weaken the influence of the first and second groups. To achieve that, we stir up discord between the two warlords. Here, we promise support in exchange for cooperation from the local armed group, the third group.

To gain that cooperation, we will make contact with the leader of the Hassan Tribe, ‘Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.’ That’s the operation’s interim goal.

“First, we will contact smaller tribes under the control of the Hassan Tribe. I know a leader who has ties with them.”

“You mean we’ll work our way up from the bottom? Not directly contacting the higher-ups?”

“Exactly.”

If we tried to approach Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan directly, there was a high chance of being blocked midway. An unfamiliar foreigner isn’t likely to be met by a warlord leader. However, approaching through ‘connections’ poses no problems.

There’s a saying, isn’t there? If you want to capture your enemy, shoot their horse.

“We will enter the territory controlled by that subordinate tribe this afternoon to start the operation. We will survey the overall condition of the tribe’s territory while sketching a base outline and building a basic information network.”

“Do you know the way?”

“Of course. I have a clear understanding of which alleys have checkpoints and what facilities are located in various regions.”

I had received plenty of information from Victor.

There are also documents passed down from headquarters periodically, so there shouldn’t be any problems in approaching Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.

“After contacting the leader of the subordinate tribe, we will build trust and get closer to our objective. I’ll let you know the specific methods once we arrive at the safe house, along with your disguise identity.”

“Okay. By the way, when is the deadline for data collection? I mean the mission deadline.”

“It’s until July when Camila, Lucia, and Francesca are officially dispatched to the Mauritania Continent.”

“July means…”

Camila, counting the days with her fingers, spoke in shock.

“There are less than 60 days left?! You’re asking us to finish the operation in two months!”

“That should be enough. The problem is with you.”

“Me?”

“You can’t stay here for two months.”

Currently, Camila had sneaked into the Mauritania Continent. Since the Empire’s intelligence department was out looking for her, dragging things out while accompanying Camila could be dangerous.

“The Reconnaissance Command is tracking us, so it would be risky to exceed a month. They’re definitely not pushovers.”

“…What should we do?”

“Two weeks.”

I held up my index and middle fingers.

“I’ll attempt to conclude the operation in the next two weeks. Depending on circumstances, it might stretch beyond two weeks, but whatever happens, you must return to the Empire after two weeks. Understand?”

Camila nodded with a worried expression. She seemed to be thinking that it might be her fault if I got into danger.

I offered her some consolation amidst her despair, saying it wouldn’t be a big deal.

However, there was a small issue: we lacked personnel to convert intelligence into usable information…

Fortunately, I had a capable analyst right beside me.

I assigned Camila to perform the analysis. With her experience as an intern in the British intelligence agency, her analytical skills were far superior to those of a typical junior information agent.

With a device in hand, Camila, sitting in the backseat, began reciting the materials sent from the Military Intelligence Agency. It was the daily report distributed to all field staff by the department responsible for the Mauritania Continent.

“May 9th daily report. It lists various reports received from across the continent. Civil wars, terrorism, incidents… In a nation called Arakosia, a shaman unleashed curses, resulting in 27 casualties, and in the Republic of Libye, a warlord engaged in a gunfight in the capital.”

“Oh, there…”

Arakosia and Libye were among the four locations where traces of our new ally had been confirmed. An investigator dispatched by the Inquisition two months ago had reported that nothing had been uncovered up until now.

The intelligence collected by the Military Intelligence Agency’s Mauritania Continent department consisted mostly of brief reports like “Certain events have occurred in a specific country.” Since the human intelligence network that emerged after the embassy withdrawal due to the civil war had been replaced by OSINT (Open Source Intelligence).

Of course, there were intelligence officers operating in the Mauritania Continent, but chronic manpower shortages were a common issue in third-world branches.

I sighed faintly and opened my mouth.

“This place is quite a noisy neighborhood. Given how lacking the data is, we need to ensure useful materials are updated promptly.”

“As a civilian, I think that should be the case… Oh, there’s interesting intel here.”

“What is it?”

“The immigration office in the Ungarlaristan Federation was shut down for around three hours due to ‘false terror reports.'”

So the Warp Gate was blocked because of a prank call? Unbelievable.

By the way, where on earth is Ungarlaristan? Just hearing the name gives me a bad vibe; it seems like a country that’s anything but normal.

As I veered off the highway, I jokingly remarked, “Let’s make sure we never go to a place like that.”

“Of course, we shouldn’t.”

*

After leaving the quiet highway, we entered the city. Despite the day starting to brighten, I found it impressive how desolate the city was. After how long we traveled through the empty streets, I finally saw the brownish walls that are so common in the Middle East and North Africa.

As I had pulled slightly away from the walls, I gradually slowed down to take a good look at the entire building. I was checking to see if the place Victor introduced was indeed the same.

“…Oh, it’s a match.”

After confirming the address and characteristics of the building, I parked near the wall and got out first.

I picked the heavy padlock at the front gate with a key and swung open the stout iron door before pulling the car into the yard and locking the gate again.

At that moment, Camila, who had taken her eyes off her device, leaned out of the passenger side.

Despite the windows being rolled down, her body was stuck, and after struggling for a while, she ultimately got out by completely opening the car door.

“Where are we?”

“This will be our home from now on.”

After looking around the house, a beaming Camila asked back, “You’re not saying we bought this place, are you?!”

“No, it’s a long-term rental. We have to move out in two months. If there are any renovations or damaged furniture, we need to restore them to their original state before returning.”

“Oh…”

“I originally planned to book a hotel or motel, but there weren’t any suitable accommodations available… Still, this is a good property we managed to get.”

To be precise, it was a place sold cheaply by a rich person who fled abroad just before the communist rebels arrived, along with the vehicle, but anyway.

I unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

Camila kept a distance while looking up at the building. It was a grand three-story structure that was obviously well-built.

“…Hmm. I’ve never cohabitated before.”

Well, I could think of it as a guesthouse.

Without much hesitation, she gathered her belongings and hurriedly entered the accommodation.

“There are no more materials sent from the company.”

“Understood. Please burn the documents for me.”

“What about the equipment?”

“We’ll throw on local attire over some decent civilian clothes. No need to overdo it. And just bring two guns.”

Preparations were complete.

Now it was time to start the operation.

 

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