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The root of all evils in world history lies within the island nation of England, and the reason the 21st-century Middle East, Africa, and Latin America have turned into a chaotic mess is because of the U.S. and the Soviet Union.

So, what exactly caused the mess in the Mauritania Continent?

Scholars have various opinions on this question.

Some believe that the geographical characteristics of flat plains in Mauritania, along with high corruption and rampant tribalism, prevented any defenses against the monsters, leading to a tragedy of continuous occurrences.

The perspective sees that the government lost control and faced numerous warlords at the tribal level, unable to withstand the monsters coming from the plains and deserts.

On the other hand, some argue that the suffering in the Mauritania Continent is due to the great powers.

Like the history of Western colonial powers pillaging their colonies, strong nations like Abas and Kien have reportedly enriched their coffers by robbing the poor.

This was an argument pushed by politicians who supported Mauritania-centric views.

Thus, the reasons for Mauritania’s deterioration differ amongst scholars and politicians. However, there’s no disagreement that the situation in Mauritania is dire.

I don’t agree with any hypothesis or claims. For a civil servant, political neutrality is not a choice but a necessity. Yet, I deeply sympathize with the view that the future here doesn’t look too bright.

Let’s look at the present, not the past.

Currently, the Mauritania Continent is rife with warlords and terrorist organizations. While their political and religious inclinations vary, these armed groups are fundamentally tribal unions.

As expected in a region plagued by tribalism, they band together based on blood relations. Thus, dozens of tribes formed warlords around a small number of large tribes.

Different warlords with varying regions, languages, and even tribes began to clash, and the conclusion was obvious.

Civil war.

Strong tribes oppressed weaker ones, and those left out of mainstream society came together to aim their guns at the government held by a certain tribe.

The result was burning government offices and breached borders, leading to immense social chaos and the emergence of numerous new warlords.

Thus, the era of warlords began.

And I found myself embedded in that era.

Back to the main point. Why am I here in a civil war-torn region full of warlords?

Because the higher-ups ordered it. Those higher-ups being the governments of the great powers.

So, what benefits is Abas trying to gain here?

The first group of warlords led by the Asen Tribe, advocating for Mauritania-centric views.

The third group of warlords led by the Hassan Tribe, which was once friendly with democratic nations.

The second group of warlords from the Sanya Tribe, receiving massive support from the Kien Empire.

…And the intelligence agencies of Kien supporting the warlords.

I’m on my way to meet the leader of Hassan to sever the ties behind them.

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

The place I headed with the Al Bas Tribe’s elite guard was the territory of the Al Hassan Tribe.

It was a vast land embracing both cliffs and plains.

“…Is this the territory of Hassan?”

“This is the main base.”

I lowered the window while talking with Camila.

The main base of the Hassan Tribe was a beautiful region, encompassing both cliffs and plains. Following the well-maintained road led to a steep path leading up the cliff.

On the open area of the cliff was a building. It looked modest at first glance, but it stood tall like the Duke’s stronghold I had seen in the northern part of the Empire.

As I ascended the road leading to the building, I examined the terrain of the base. It was a defensive terrain that would be hard to climb without a vehicle.

“……”

As I entered the destination, an armed guard approached me. The guard explained that outsiders must park in designated spots.

I maneuvered the gear and glanced at Camila.

“Stay here.”

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“Someone has to watch the vehicle.”

I half-leaned out of the vehicle, then went back inside to fire off a question at Camila.

“Camila. Do you know how to drive?”

“Drive? A bit! I have a license! Though I’ve never had my own car!”

“Well then. Sit in the driver’s seat. Here’s a pistol too.”

I handed her the gear and entered the main gate alone.

There were two guards and a woman waiting for me there.

It was a familiar face. The one I had seen in photographs.

Jouhrr.

She’s the secretary of Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.

“Good evening, Mr. Asud. I am Jouhrr, secretary to Mr. Nasir.”

The well-dressed secretary of Hassan greeted me with a polite attitude.

It was a greeting in a clearly articulated common language. I returned the courtesy.

“Nice to meet you, Jouhrr. I came because you called.”

“Please come this way.”

With a faint smile, she extended her hand and walked inside.

I passed by the elevator on the first floor and moved further inside. Descending the stairs to the basement led to an elevator of the same model as the first floor. I took it down to basement three.

It was a concealed elevator.

Before arriving at the third floor, Jouhrr pressed the button labeled basement three twice and the basement four button once.

According to information from the Royal Intelligence Department, there is a large space between the third and fourth floors of this building due to its structure. The construction company claimed that they had to leave that space for technical reasons, but the blueprints that were tightly secured in the safe show that there is another floor in that empty space.

Jouhrr spoke up.

“Feeling cramped?”

She asked if I was feeling stifled as she approached.

I suspected her proximity due to the head covering blocking my view, even though my eyes were fine.

“No, not at all.”

“Please bear with it for a moment. It’s due to unavoidable circumstances.”

That unavoidable circumstance was security. What good is it to have a concealed elevator? If an outsider were to leave and blab about it, it would all be for nothing.

So, the Hassan warlords inevitably had to blindfold outsiders.

But it’s all pointless.

I already know all about the building’s structure and the existence of the concealed elevator. Even the operating methods.

-Crunch.

The elevator stopped.

With the guard’s help, I stepped out, and the covering on my head was removed. Amidst the dizzying light, the scenery of the secret space unfolded before my eyes.

A long hallway adorned with red decorations. At the end were a terminal, a vacant desk, and two guards guarding a door.

While undergoing a body search, Hassan’s secretary approached the vacant desk. That was her station.

“No guns, knives, or talismans.”

The guards confirmed her lack of weapons.

Nodding to the guards, the secretary knocked on the door.

“Mr. Nasir, your guest.”

An old voice responded from beyond the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and I walked inside.

The old man was standing by the window, gazing outside. Next to the window lay a sniper rifle, an outdated model from 30 years ago used by the Kien Empire’s military.

My eyes were drawn to a large desk occupying the front of the sniper rifle. A wooden office desk.

The dust-covered terminal and a couple of picture frames hinted that this was his office.

“Good evening.”

I politely greeted the old man.

But he didn’t reply.

“……”

He was gazing at the scenery outside the window.

The cliff’s majestic drop-off and the vast plain extending to the horizon, painted by the setting sun. Perhaps that is what captivated his attention. Just then, the old man turned and gestured toward a long rectangular table, inviting me to sit. I took my seat while he occupied the seat of honor.

“You are Asud, right?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

His wrinkled hand reached out to me. It was an offer for a handshake.

“I am Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.”

The old man introduced himself.

We shook hands lightly.

“Everyone else should stay outside.”

Nasir dismissed his subordinates with a single word. As the guards left, he turned to me again.

“What would you like to drink?”

It was a suggestion for refreshments.

“I’ll have coffee.”

Served with coffee ground from locally sourced beans, the hand-blending machine was a rare sight in today’s world where magic has changed the paradigm of industries.

The old man placed the beans into the machine and manually pulled the lever.

“……”

“……”

The sound of grinding beans filled the air. During that time, we exchanged no words.

His strange behavior, summoning me here without saying anything, felt quite peculiar, yet I didn’t hastily introduce the main topic.

I sensed that I didn’t hold the conversational lead.

As I had surmised, Nasir, who had been grinding the beans, was the first to speak.

“Did you say you are a war correspondent?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I heard you came here to cover the civil war.”

The old man glanced at me as he paused in his grinding.

“Have you visited the capital?”

“Yes, I have.”

“The capital gathers all guests who visit this country. Diplomats, businessmen, immigrants, tourists, soldiers, and journalists.”

The grinding of the beans abruptly stopped. Then came the silence.

Filling the void was Nasir’s voice.

“It’s the first time. A journalist has made it down to this region.”

I pondered the implication of his words. A journalist crawling into a warlord’s territory?

The smiling journalist replied to the warlord’s inquiry.

“I am a war correspondent, after all. The war zone is my workplace.”

Hmm. The old man let out a short pause and began moving his hands again.

Perhaps intrigued by my identity as a war correspondent, Nasir threw a barrage of questions my way.

“Then have you been to other towns besides this one?”

“Yes. I’ve been to a few places.”

“Which ones? The regions you covered, I mean.”

My activity regions.

“A few days ago, I received your business card. You came from Latouan, right?”

“Yes. I’m a local, born and raised in Latouan.”

“Yet your name is quite Mauritania-esque.”

“My grandfather immigrated here. He gave me my name, just like my father did.”

“You were a compatriot living abroad, then. What were your grandfather and father like?”

Family background.

“Latouan is the nation next to the Kien Empire, right? Have you been to the Empire?”

“Yes. I studied at the National University in Petrogard as an exchange student in my second year.”

“So that’s why you are fluent in Kien. My cousin’s son also went abroad for his studies.”

“Oh, Farid?”

“You know him, then. I heard he endured quite a bit while abroad; how was it for you?”

“Well, being an overseas student, it’s pretty much the same everywhere. It wasn’t easy.”

Background of growth.

“So, have you landed a job?”

“No. I’m freelance, so I’m not really affiliated with any news outlet. In fact, it’s rare for a war correspondent to be tied to a single company.”

“Is there any particular article you wrote that stands out?”

Achievements.

It felt almost like an interview. I perceived this as an interrogation.

Nasir seemed to be wary of me, a foreign war correspondent. It appeared he suspected me of being a government informant or an agent of a foreign intelligence agency.

It’s a reasonable suspicion.

It was a mystery.

In fact, a significant number of war correspondents cooperate with information agencies, and during my time in the Information Command, I connected with several war correspondents.

They provided me with the materials they had collected, and I offered sources that could be used for articles. It was a sort of mutual aid.

Therefore, Nasir couldn’t help but be cautious about me. He pretended not to be, but it was clear as day.

“You’ve lived an interesting life.”

“My life is nothing to brag about; I’ve lived quietly.”

“There’s no one who boasts of a trivial life while being so humble.”

The relentless probing continued.

I tried to dispel Nasir’s suspicion, yet the old man didn’t let his guard down. He truly was a cautious person.

The questioning paused around the time the coffee was ready. Nasir handed me a cup and returned to his seat, while I took a sip and sighed.

How could I take the lead in this conversation?

First, I needed to put him in a position to listen to me. As I scanned the office, I searched for materials I could use to justify my questions under the guise of an interview.

At that moment, the sniper rifle displayed by the window caught my eye.

I pointed subtly at the sniper rifle.

“What’s the purpose of that rifle? For decoration? Or is it for hunting monsters?”

Nasir opened his mouth.

“It’s mine.”

Heh. The old man, sipping coffee, leaned back in his chair and glanced back. His gaze landed on the talk of the town – the sniper rifle.

“It’s an old weapon I used.”

“Oh, so you’ve been hunting?”

“….”

Nasir remained silent.

The old man, who had been staring pensively at the sniper rifle, softly closed his eyes and muttered as if recalling memories from the past.

“Hunting, yes. Something like that.”

I attempted to steer the conversation around the keyword “hunting.”

“When you say it was ‘something like hunting’?”

“I shot at the government army. With that rifle.”

Over twenty years ago, young Nasir fought against the government army with that sniper rifle.

At that time, the Hassan Warlord’s influence was not as high as it is now. A university student, destined to be the warlord leader, took up arms and went to the front lines. Numerous government soldiers fell to the trigger he pulled.

From riflemen to machine gunners, commanders, messengers, and staff.

The bullets flew across the city, and the stars he shot down fell. In the end, Nasir, who sniped the local commander controlling the area, brought an end to the civil war. And he began to lead Hassan.

I knew how he became the leader of a warlord. I also understood how much time he had spent as a sniper.

Reports detailing Nasir’s past as a sniper were stored in the Military Intelligence Agency’s archives.

Back then, someone informed Nasir of his shooting targets and trained him to be a sniper….

“Asud.”

Nasir’s voice pulled me out of my reverie.

He was gazing at me, having set his cup down.

I looked at him, and he looked back, neither of us shying away from each other’s gaze.

Click!

The sound of a pistol being cocked shattered the silence. A small pistol used by the Abas army.

“Let’s stop playing around.”

Nasir broke the silence.

“Where do you come from?”

The warlord leader asked, pressing a gun against me.

*

The barrel came into view, but I didn’t flinch; I calmly evaluated the situation.

The first thing I noticed was the pistol.

The pistol pointed at me was a model produced in Abas. I wasn’t surprised it resembled a PPK in design. It was a small pistol I had used before and one the company supplied me with; finding a pistol in a civil war region wasn’t too shocking.

Especially for a warlord.

The warlord leader opened his mouth.

“Where were you sent from?”

I sat still, pondering carefully.

Even as I processed my thoughts, Nasir continued to shoot questions at me.

“Who sent you?”

He pressed with the gun, as if to hasten my answer. I calmly placed both my hands on the table.

“Why suddenly pulling out a gun? It’s quite alarming.”

“You’re not as surprised as you pretend to be.”

Nasir muttered, still seated. The gun’s muzzle was still aimed at me.

With the pistol resting on the table, he let out a soft sigh and stared at me thoughtfully.

I decided to ask him a question.

It was a pure inquiry.

“May I ask why you’re pointing that gun at me?”

Why was he acting like this? When I asked, Nasir responded.

“Because you’re lying.”

“Lying?”

I tilted my head in confusion.

Then Nasir’s chest rose and fell.

He spoke, having taken a couple of breaths.

“Recently, there was a report from the Al Bas Tribe. It stated that an armed robbery occurred in a village near the border. And as far as I know, you were in that village.”

I quietly confirmed.

“Yes, I was there.”

“A shootout occurred.”

He began to describe the situation.

“Residents turned into robbers and ambushed you with guns. Shots rang out after the evening prayer, and soon after, a shootout ensued.”

“….”

“The first shots were fired from a building next to the lodging where the tribe’s members were staying. The very lodging where you were.”

Nasir knew everything that had happened in that chaos. In detail and with accuracy.

He said he received a report. It was probably from a tribe member who escaped the village with Farid. The Al Bas Tribe is affiliated with Hassan Warlord, so the report would have surely reached their leader, Nasir.

Here, I now understood how robust the reporting system of a warlord was.

It was new information.

“What did you do when the gunfire started?”

“I talked.”

I answered truthfully.

He already knew the circumstances back then.

“I had a conversation with a vigilante leader. I asked him why they were attacking us. But I didn’t get a proper answer.”

“You didn’t just talk, did you?”

Nasir cut in.

“Who fired the gun?”

“….”

“Was it you, or the robbers?”

His deep-set eyes began to examine me. I took a sip of my coffee in silence.

“I think the first person to pull the trigger was you. You drew your gun towards the robbers who came to your lodging.”

“It was my bodyguard who fired.”

“Is that the magician you travel with?”

“Yes.”

Nasir smirked.

“You lie very naturally.”

He continued speaking, holding the pistol.

Nasir’s deductions began in earnest.

“I believe you were the one who first fired the shot. Right after the first gunshot, it’s clear from the fact that you had a conversation with the robbers that it wasn’t your bodyguard.”

I smiled faintly.

“That’s a weak assertion.”

I leaned back in my chair, ready to defend myself.

It was an alibi I had prepped in case I was pressed on.

“My bodyguard is a taciturn person. He never speaks loosely.”

“Yet he was friendly towards the villagers.”

“Just because someone is taciturn doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be friendly to others, right?”

I shot back, opening my hands.

Nasir narrowed his eyes at me.

“So, what you’re saying is, the bodyguard fired the gun, but you had the conversation?”

“Exactly.”

“Then why did you have a gun?”

I tilted my head in silence as he continued.

“I noticed there were two guns.”

“….”

He stood up and walked over to the desk. Leaning down, he rummaged through something and soon pulled out something hefty.

It was an automatic rifle used by the Kien Empire military.

One was a standard version with a wooden stock, and the other was a variant designed for airborne troops with a folding stock.

I was familiar with these guns.

“These were the weapons found by the soldiers in the reed field where you fought the robbers. They are rifles used in the Kien Empire,” Nasir said.

“According to international law, armed individuals are treated as combatants. Organizations equipped with insignias and uniforms are recognized as combatants, even if they are not regular forces.”

“….”

“So war correspondents carry no weapons. The moment they do, they lose the protection of international law.”

That was true.

Though there had been instances of war correspondents carrying weapons, modern war correspondents usually do not arm themselves.

Thus,

“Then are you a journalist? Or someone pretending to be a journalist?”

“….”

“I think you’re not a journalist.”

A snicker escaped me.

Busted. I’m done for.

I looked at Nasir with a slight grin. He was still aiming the pistol at me.

Nasir continued.

“A person who uses their journalist status while secretly carrying a gun. I know a type like that.”

A spy.

Nasir whispered, his voice filled with certainty.

He took a step forward and began to ask again as he resumed walking.

“I’ll ask again.”

“….”

“Who sent you?”

Finally taking my gaze away from the old man, I suddenly muttered.

“Give me a break here. I asked you to train rebels, not create operatives.”

“Answer.”

Nasir urged with the pistol. Now we were so close that we could brush each other’s coats.

Of course, it’s a well-known fact that bullets travel faster than a person’s movement. At this distance, the moment he pulls the trigger, I wouldn’t have a chance to dodge.

So, I clasped my hands together and rested them on the chair’s backrest.

And I answered Nasir’s question.

“Leoni Risha.”

“….”

“She asked me to send her regards after a long time.”

 

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