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international politics practitioners think.

Stopping the spread of illegal weapons is believed to maintain peace on the Mauritania Continent.

From conflict resolution on a small scale to regional stabilization and political system stabilization on a broader scale.

The shared agenda of countless analysts and scholars is the belief that simply stopping the illegal arms trade could save tremendous costs and lives.

However, if someone were to suggest that the locals on the Mauritania Continent put down their weapons…

The locals would immediately pull out the rifles they had hidden in their closets and chase the intruders out of the village!

Why does the spread of illegal weapons never cease?

To put it more bluntly, why won’t the locals lay down their arms?

The answer to that question is incredibly simple.

It’s much easier and faster for angry parties to shoot each other with guns than it is to engage in “democratic conflict management” based on compromise, consensus, and tolerance.

Episode 18 – Man Club

“I believe in the Empire.

I wasn’t born in the Empire, nor am I a citizen, but…

Those who came from there gave me land and resources, and I built farms and mines.

The Empire made me rich and gifted me dreams and hopes. So I raised my children in the ways of the Empire. It wasn’t just me; our entire tribe did the same.

…Until the goblins with their red flags showed up.”

The old man lamented his diminishing strength once again.

Having passed the retirement age but unable to put down his work, the old man gazed regretfully at his withered arms.

“I couldn’t do anything. Not when the goblins burned our fields, not when they collapsed our mines.”

“……”

“Not even when they took the children. I… I couldn’t do anything.”

Customers visiting the central market of Umsalga each have their own unique stories and characteristics.

And their personalities and uniqueness come to light through the tales and currencies they bring.

Those terrified by the indiscriminate horror of civil war, desperate fugitives chased by the phantom of revenge, swindlers out to fool the gullible, foreign-educated individuals filled with foreign money, dreamers who love to hope, and….

“Sir, what do you want from me?”

“I want revenge.”

A monster blinded by vengeance.

“Revenge, huh…?”

The old man stated, that he longs for blood.

“Do you know what I sell?”

“…Yes. I already know what you deal in.”

The monster replied, and the trader smiled.

The trader, who had been listening nonchalantly until now, began to grin widely, revealing his sharp teeth and pulling back his green lips.

The orc extended a hand to the old man seeking revenge.

“Welcome, sir.”

*

According to Mauritania’s customs, the orc welcomed the guest into the living room and walked with the old man into the backyard.

The backyard was adorned with grapevines, casting a charming shade. A long table was set next to a table laden with refreshments, showcasing various firearms, as if in a museum.

“From the Northeastern Union’s pistols to domestically produced goods from Mauritania, everything is here.”

As the old man examined the displayed firearms, he asked the orc.

“Are there weapons from the Empire?”

“Of course.”

The arms dealer replied with a smile, pointing at the rifles displayed on one side.

“There are weapons from the Imperial Guard who defeated the fiends from the North and even the arms used to protect His Majesty the Emperor for over thirty years. If you take them, they would surely be used to defend against goblins and protect the tribe.”

“……”

“Please feel free to browse. Everything you’re looking for should be here.”

“Yes….”

“Well then, I have a prior engagement, so I’ll be a moment.”

The orc gave a polite bow and approached the refreshment table, shaking hands with a man dressed in worn military uniform.

The two sat down and resumed the conversation that had been interrupted by the arrival of a new guest.

“Boss, as you heard earlier, current supplies of rocket launchers are hard to come by. The production of the level-4 high-risk military magical tool, ‘Ice Storm Mine,’ has completely stopped.”

“We haven’t done business for over four years. Considering my face, please help me out.”

The aged warlord executive pleaded, but the arms dealer just smiled awkwardly. He had nothing to lose in terms of age.

So he calmly took a sip of coffee and opened his mouth.

“I understand that you’re anxious given the importance of the southern campaign. But claiming to be a Messiah and a savior… It seems there are more and more cunning tongues that deceive the people.”

“Has another warlord already snagged the supplies?”

“Well, you could say that the stringent laws of the market economy have taken their course.”

“…Jammer-Victor. You won’t find a more resourceful businessman than you in Umsalga. I urge you earnestly. Is there really no way?”

“Hmm.”

The arms dealer’s expression grew serious.

Using his thick fingers, he tapped his own arm, as if calculating in his head, before quietly raising three fingers.

The warlord executive stared, stunned, and muttered in disbelief.

“Three pieces…? Isn’t that an outrageous amount?”

“The amount includes costs for the armory manager, headquarters, customs, and the harbor. If we consider the trouble of bringing in foreign crews to avoid intensified inspections at sea, it’s more like I’m the one taking a loss.”

He meant to say he was willing to offer a discount, given their past dealings.

After contemplating the status of their ‘taxes’ and surplus ‘funds,’ the warlord executive signed the contract, and the arms dealer, receiving the contract from his subordinate, smiled broadly and shook hands with the man.

“I will pay in gold. It comes from the tribe’s mine, so quality is assured just like before.”

“A wise choice.”

“I trust your honor, Jammer-Victor.”

“……”

The orc smiled silently.

After concluding the contract, the next deal was queued up. The old man came seeking the orc without the need for the orc to visit him first.

“Fifty Kien Empire rifles. 1,200 rounds of ammunition. Sixty-seven ten-round magazines. Is that correct?”

“Yes, correct.”

“How do you wish to pay?”

“I’ll pay in cash along with 450 kilograms of beans and 78 goats.”

The arms dealer nodded with a satisfied expression.

“Beans and goats! That sounds good. Nothing is more precious than food.”

The subordinate loaded the goods onto the truck. The items purchased by the old man were disguised as firewood, factory-produced food, home appliances, clothing, and the like.

To send off the departing customer, the arms dealer stepped outside. Following the customs of Al-Yabd, he said goodbye according to Mauritania’s traditions.

“Take care. Wishing you well.”

“May peace be upon you.”

Bowing his head to the old man, the arms dealer did not rise even as the truck drove away.

Then suddenly, he slyly rolled his eyes and began to whisper in a small voice.

“…Did he leave?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh boy.”

The orc jolted upright and slapped his forehead.

“Oh, my head.”

“You’re such a big guy yet you’re whining.”

The subordinate patted the orc’s belly as he entered the house. Just then, the orc asked.

“Freddy. You put the tracker on, right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good to hear. I was worried you might have forgotten.”

“Who would do something so foolish?”

As I was awkwardly licking my lips, I shouted at Victor, who was banging on the doorway.

“Get in here and track the cargo!”

*

Lying on my bed and reading the report, I couldn’t help but let out my sincere admiration.

“Wow….”

The world has gone completely insane.

The old man burning with revenge buys a rifle after filming a movie.

The warlord’s head, seeing his turf in chaos, stacks up rocket launchers and military magical tools.

A weapons transaction that starts with “I believe in the Empire” and ends with 450 kg of beans and 78 goats… It’s really hard to believe, no matter how many times I look at it. It’s like a miracle of multiplying loaves and fishes.

“No way. Is he some kind of Jesus? Trading goats for weapons.”

In the name of world peace, he’s dispatched.

As an outsider here to serve the locals with my companions.

The scene of the village head and the local thug chief amicably buying weapons was utterly mind-boggling.

How could anyone sleep soundly in a town flooded with illegal arms? Terrifying, to say the least.

So, I turned it all into scrap metal.

– Bang!

It was just when I was sprawled out by myself, shaking my legs.

The door swung wide open, and a familiar golden sun rolled in, emitting sounds like “Dehfu-fut-.”

“You’re back?”

“Yep… I’ve been busy making scrap metal again today.”

Jake, who returned to the lodging, looked utterly haggard.

He dropped his heavy military gear and tossed aside his bulletproof vest. Though he looked tired, I wondered if he’d gotten through this time. Just as I was pondering that—

Sure enough, he started groaning as usual.

“Manager.”

“What?”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“What? You mean smashing the black market weapons in the city?”

Thwack! Jake shook his head wildly like a lunatic. I casually placed the report on my thigh and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“How many hours do you and the operations team sleep in a day when you’re out on missions?”

“We barely get four hours.”

“Then do you think the Major, who’s out there poking around with the black market and warlords, can sleep more than four hours?”

“….”

“If you understand, just keep going.”

“…Teeeeeeng!”

Maybe it was a cooldown moment, but Jake started convulsing again. It was his usual nonsense.

I contemplated how to deal with him for a moment and then decided to give up; he must have been exhausted from chasing down the black market arms dealers Victor had tipped us off about all night.

“Jake, if you keep having fits like this, you might end up getting grounded like the arms dealer.”

“Arms dealer? Right, the black market dealer you threw out during lunch. Why did his leg break? I saw the bone completely sticking out through the flesh.”

“Oh— I stepped on it.”

“I don’t understand…?”

I originally aimed to just take off his shoes, but the kid kept running away, so I accidentally fractured his leg. Hard to run with a broken leg, after all.

Jake flopped down on the floor, speechless, as if he had just watched some absurd melodrama. Pippin, passing by, clicked her tongue like a mother who had caught her son in a filthy room.

“What are you doing here?”

“Pippin!”

“Goodness gracious, Jake. What a mess! A complete mess.”

She has had a little spat with Jake and then slurped her coffee. Perhaps due to the consecutive late nights, her eyes lacked vibrancy and her face looked tired.

Of course, my looks weren’t much different.

Thanks to countless late nights since my days in intelligence, I could manage, but none of us had anything in abundance.

In some areas, maybe. But in a single country dealing with the illegal arms trade, we had to recover and destroy everything.

Let alone from dozens of neighboring countries importing and exporting weapons.

“…Tsk.”

The weapon trading in war-torn regions wasn’t a recent issue, but the incidents occurring lately in the Mauritania Continent have surpassed the usual bounds. Even the local government and the international community were openly issuing warnings.

It wasn’t just a matter of illegal weapons circulating in large quantities that caused this chaos.

The instability in the Mauritania Continent stemmed from the desperate struggle to survive, where a box of canned goods could buy three boxes of rifle ammunition. Everyone was turning to robbery, buying weapons instead of food.

The orders came down just to put out the immediate fires and deal with the weapons circulating on the streets.

“…Is everyone really struggling that much?”

“When has work at the company ever been easy?”

Pippin sighed deeply. Jake, now free of his fit, chimed in next to her.

“Is there anything else? There’s a shortage of people, the time is tight, and we’re being pressed from above… It’s always the same old nonsense.”

I figured as much.

I nodded and said quietly.

“Jake.”

“Yes?”

“I’m giving you five seconds. Put your head down on the container.”

After treating Jake’s nonsense with the universally adored physical therapy (not), I became quite engrossed in a serious train of thought.

“While I acknowledge the necessity and reasoning behind cracking down on illegal arms, will this issue be resolved just by us?”

“Definitely not.”

“Right?”

“Indeed.”

No matter how hard Jake and the operations team smashed and disposed of weapons today, come tomorrow, dozens of containers filled with weapons would cross the border.

With the right skills and working conditions, firearms like pistols could be crudely manufactured locally. If one was determined, even anti-tank missiles or towed howitzers could be smuggled. I knew this all too well from firsthand experience.

“For now, illegal weapons of a larger caliber are relatively easier to control.”

“But even you faced huge challenges transporting them, didn’t you?”

“Well… that’s true, but the firearms are the real problem. Things like pistols, rifles, and sniper rifles.”

That was, in fact, the biggest issue.

Heavy weapons couldn’t be used without some knowledge of how they work. But a handful of random farmers or idlers at home could learn to use a pistol without much hassle. Loading a bullet and pulling the trigger wasn’t rocket science.

Still, we had been managing until now.

Had warlords or terrorist groups ever posed a direct threat to us? Even if such attempts had existed, I had managed to thwart them in the meantime. We hadn’t run into any problems thanks to that.

The self-proclaimed prophets and old fools were the ones causing ruckus with their proclamations about “it’s not nature, it’s violence!” or whatever.

Before all these self-claimed Muhammad Advocates and Jesus Advocates suddenly flared up.

“The country is seriously a mess. Everything’s in disarray. How did over fifty self-declared prophets of the Earth God come to be in a rural town? Are they the long-lost siblings? Did Mother travel across the continent and get pregnant or something? What’s going on?”

If Al-Yabd’s priest had been here, he would have rolled his eyes at such blasphemy long ago.

But what can you do? It’s true.

Pippin and Jake began whispering among themselves, surrounded by troubled expressions.

“What will we do? Team Leader Matt and Sub Team Leader Bill were also saying it might be time for some countermeasures.”

“Senior Analyst Larry and the analysis team felt the same way.”

“…I got it. I’ll have to take charge. What a hassle.”

We needed a plan badly.

I reached out to my companions for help in tackling this problem. To be precise, I forwarded the issue of arms control to the World Union.

It was just when they were taking care of the Nabuku disaster. Plus, with the justification of peacekeeping operations, teaming up with the Peacekeeping Force to crack down on arms smuggling could work.

“Hey, Camila. Is it alright if I call you for a moment?”

Honestly, I wasn’t too worried. I had plans in place.

Dealing with full-fledged dealers like Victor was tough without the proper company. However, petty trading happening around town was totally manageable by the World Union or my companions.

Moreover, everyone was more than capable of protecting themselves, and none of them had a tendency to recklessly charge into enemy territory.

Dividing duties while regulating arms with my companions was my plan ‘at the time.’

*

On the first day of officially deploying with my companions for arms control.

Lucia pinpointed an arms transaction scene and subdued both the buyer and the black market dealer.

“Lucia. I’m just glad you’re safe, but…”

“Yes?”

“Why did you fold this perfectly fine person in half?”

“Because they were trying to run away.”

“…….”

“Don’t worry, we can fix this.”

“…Stop messing around.”

This was just the beginning.

And so, the era where only the strong survive had begun its curtain call.

 

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