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A good story about overseas travel always feels unfamiliar.

Many modern people seek peace abroad, but for me, overseas was no different from a workplace or job site.

It’s not that I had no good memories at all. It was just that they were as rare as beans in a drought.

Anyway.

The overseas postings were a continuous series of colorful and fantastic experiences, and among them, the most absurd work location was the ‘Russian Federation.’

I personally thought it was as tough as my first posting in China. Just for your reference, this was my second posting. I was assigned here immediately after my China deployment ended.

I was astonished when the orders came to go directly to Russia after returning home. Even the seniors were surprised. Everyone worried if we had upset our superiors.

Back then, I didn’t understand why they were so concerned.

Wow… I understood when I got there.

Was it the intense surveillance? That was a fact. That ‘only’ was a fact.

There were idiots, and then there were those idiots.

The US, China, Japan, and Russia were a nightmare.

Even the phrase “snowy Nigeria” felt like a luxury. Nigeria wasn’t this absurd either.

This place was just the fools of fools. A nation of extreme foolishness.

The bald tattooed skinhead types greeted me like I was Chinese and started picking fights.

(Since this was the first time I’d experienced such serious and humiliating discrimination in my life, I lured them into a blind spot of CCTV and smashed a bottle over their head.)

With peeling paint, cracks everywhere, and a shabby lodging on the verge of collapse.

(I swear it looked normal on the site. I still haven’t gotten a refund for this.)

The Russian police shamelessly demanded bribes.

(You guys can buy your own chocolate bars, teachers.)

Even trivial official matters moved sluggishly without bribes.

(What kind of bribe do you expect for three sheets of paper?)

As I turned on the tap to wash rice, rusty water flowed like the bladder of a patient with urinary incontinence.

(My colleague, unaware, washed in the rusty water and got kicked out of the lodging.)

Just stepping slightly outside of Moscow city brings you to muddy, unpaved roads.

(When I got stuck in one while driving, the seniors cursed, asking if I thought I was Napoleon on a Russian expedition.)

And the surveillance was so tight.

It wasn’t just annoying; there were moments that almost drove me to madness because of the FSB agents.

At least I liked that alcohol and cigarettes were cheap. The food was tasty too, so it was somewhat bearable. There were many fun places to explore as well.

Without those small joys, I might have already resigned.

The experiences I gained in Russia helped me on the African continent and allowed me to live comfortably in the Kien Empire, but the fact that those memories remain as wretched recollections is an undeniable truth—a clear reality.

“……”

Suddenly, the memories of my time in Russia came back to me, and there was a reason for it.

The look on the teacher’s face when he encountered a disciple who was frying a dung tank resembled that of my superior (Major) witnessing rice soaked in rusty water.

“Ah, so the child had the ability to splash dung water…”

I couldn’t muster any explanation or excuse.

—

Episode 18 – Man Club

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The place had shifted, and quite some time had passed, but the Duke had yet to open her mouth.

“……”

Considering that she had participated in the Cult-Magic Tower War and had faced demons on frozen land, this reaction seemed like overzealousness at first glance, but in reality, it was entirely different.

As can be inferred from the title Duke, Alexandra Petrovna is someone of high status in Kien. Not just high-ranking, but a royal.

According to the ‘History of the Empire’s Foundation’ (for reasons unknown, Kien Empire always titles its official documents related to the Smirnov royal family like this. Was it actually the Duke of the North or the ‘Pig Duke’ of the North?), it states, “The first emperor, having received a request from the dragon, defeated the wicked dragon and obtained divine treasures as reward.”

Legends say things like “The blood of the dragon flows” or “Married a dragon that transformed into a human, thereby having offspring,” which even the Kim family, strongly hoping for the hereditary succession of North Korea’s 4th generation (Jin), would describe as nonsensical chatter. However, as with all legends, all of these tales are unverified collections of nonsense, a ‘Trinity Eva’ that science, magic, and theology collectively scream ‘Eva.’

Logically speaking, isn’t that true?

Just as an odd woman lounging in a pond cannot be the foundation of a government system by handing out swords, children born from ‘banging dragons’ cannot be the basis of royalty. They should not merely exist like half-dogs.

This is a truth proven by the glorious history that continues from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (since 1975~). The royals also avoided mentioning ‘Dragon-Sex’ outside of the emperor’s funeral and coronation since they knew it was nonsense.

Of course, those suspiciously wealthy individuals saw it as a plausible hypothesis, but still.

“……”

How shocking it must have been for someone of her stature to meet her only disciple after all this time, only to find that disciple splattering dung water around!

If this weren’t a fantasy, she would have died from a soul loss a hundred times over.

The Duke, who had been moving her lips as if gasping like a goldfish, finally began to speak, precisely for that reason.

“…I see. I need to hear the child’s tale.”

“Professor…!”

Waaah! Camila was crying her eyes out.

Like a citizen clutching a magistrate, expressing her grievances, she clung to the Duke’s pants and began unfolding her story.

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*

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“Indeed, so there were such circumstances.”

By the time their conversation wrapped up, the snacks the Duke had brought were nothing but crumbs, vanished without a trace.

Camila indulged in the snacks prepared for her while shedding tears one after another. Her face, puffed up like it had been bitten by mosquitoes, and her incessant sobbing would have astonished even those studying ‘The Mysteries of the Human Body.’

I split a snack in two and handed it to Camila. She accepted it saying “Ah—” and I casually began my discourse.

“Proper waste management significantly impacts hygiene. In refugee camps housing from tens of thousands to hundreds of millions, even the slightest outbreak of disease would be untenable.”

The Duke nodded earnestly.

“I understand. It was the same on the battlefield.”

“Indeed….”

The war between the Cult and the Magic Tower took place about a hundred years ago. At that time, civilization was much behind what it is now.

Even the concepts of public health and personal hygiene were faint, so waste was discarded anywhere.

Camila chimed in.

“Before Nightingale proved it with statistics during the Crimean War in the 1850s, the British Army didn’t care about hygiene at all. Their military hospitals were managed at the level of public restrooms.”

True to her British heritage, she proudly referenced the splendid legacy from the British Empire days (not even stolen from the colonies!).

The Duke smiled gently, patted her head, and began to look nostalgic.

“No one expected that so many magicians would gather, nor was anyone prepared for it. The first scene I witnessed… Yeah, it reminded me of how many more people there were than I had prepared for in military clothing.”

Lost in reminiscence, the Duke slightly raised her head and continued.

“Communication barriers. Not knowing who was to give the commands. The largest problem was, of course, the toilets. At times, it felt indistinguishable whether we were on a battlefield or in a lavatory….”

“Wasn’t that the case for all armies back then?”

“True. I remember not receiving clear answers when I sought out generals to consult.”

Was it different for the Kien army? While they instinctively understood that feces stank and were filthy, no one knew it carried infectious germs.

That was precisely why the generals could only advise to “discard it far from base.”

However, as always happens in war, there was never enough time for leisure. It wasn’t always possible to dispose waste outside each time.

If it were winter, they could let it slide, but what about summer? What could they do? An outbreak of disease was inevitable. In fact, even disposing it outside the base caused problems.

“During the summer of four years ago, when the wheat was ripening, farmers attacked us with their plows, claiming we ruined their crops with the excrement we left behind.”

“Ah….”

“Fortunately, we managed to get through unscathed, but similar incidents must have happened at least thousands of times. One of the main justifications used against us by the Holy See was based on such occurrences. It was quite effective too.”

Quietly lowering her voice, Camila added, “Black propaganda?”

“I’m asking you,” I nodded.

The Duke’s past was a rather lengthy tale. As far as I knew, he wasn’t too fond of discussing the war.

It seemed like he was conscious of Camila. She loved hearing stories from others, especially if they were from a distant past.

The war tales he had been telling gradually came to an end, and the conversation began to flow naturally in a different direction. Looking at the crumbly snacks, Camila, who had a glint in her eye, suddenly asked while tearing open a new box.

“But, Professor, what brings you here?”

The Duke, with a cold drink in hand, rested his chin on one hand. I shot a pitying glare at Camila.

The Duke was gazing off at the distant mountains. His casually uttered words carried a strange bluntness, as if he was questioning why she was only just asking about something so important now.

“I came to see the child.”

“…Ah.”

“Now that your mind has cleared from obsessing over snacks, you seem curious.”

Late to her senses, Camila wiped the crumbs from her mouth, but the train had long since left the station.

The Duke shook his head, eyes closed. His unfortunate disciple clicked his tongue as if worried.

Just as the disciple shyly set the box down, the reason for coming to this far-off town began to spill forth from his mentor.

“I had urgent business that pulled me away from the world for a bit. But upon returning to the stronghold, I heard amusing anecdotes about the child.”

“Anecdotes? What do you mean?”

“I heard about the tree that was burned. A tree that supposedly ate people.”

The Duke tossed it out nonchalantly, as if it were trivial.

“It seems like it’s not an ordinary tree. I combed through the Empire’s academy, the Magic Tower, and the Ivory Tower’s records, but found nothing that matched. So it probably isn’t a magical creature either.”

The Archmage, who had been out and about, seemed to have an inkling and posed a question.

It was neither a clear question nor a vague inquiry.

In reality, it was just a sneak peek at the final puzzle piece.

“Was it a demon?”

“Yes.”

Camila didn’t hesitate, and I added a needed explanation.

“It was a plot orchestrated by the cult known as Al Kair. Officially, with the death of the ‘Prophet’ Abu Bakaw Al Shebar, who founded Al Kair and orchestrated the operations, one tree vanished, and 53 cultists were captured by ‘Shamir’ Akande, thereby ending the situation.”

“What about unofficially?”

I let out a faint sigh.

“Even after eliminating 30 additional trees on top of the two directly dealt with, I can’t say how many trees remain. The same goes for the remnants of the cult.”

“That aligns with the Holy See’s explanations.”

“Well, that was what I heard from the Holy See too.”

As I calmly continued, I slumped lazily onto the sofa. With my arms resting on the backrest, I wrapped up my explanation.

“The small religious organization will crumble in no time. With its founder and first leader gone, it will lose its focal point and gradually break into multiple factions.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

There is indeed some risk. If the remnants commit terror acts, some people might die or worse.

But now, after being bombed and with their leader assassinated, ISIL has hidden underground, resorting to suicide bombings and unable to rampage like before.

The Om Shinrikyo leader, who dispersed nerve gas in the Tokyo subway, was executed and had the group forcibly disbanded, later regrouping but still under concentrated surveillance by Japanese public security.

What does all this mean?

To put it simply, once marked, most of those who get nailed just end up in coffins.

(Of course, the Taliban, who fled while in a near-death state to neighboring countries only to return and devour the Afghan government whole, are exceptions – just as the Northern Alliance that fights fiercely against the Taliban. Remember, this area is where Britain/Soviet Union/USA all stood with only their panties on and fled in a hurry as of 2021.)

Are the cults in this area any different?

Thanks to Akande capturing just over 50 of them, the nail-pulling factory is running 24/7, ignoring labor laws, so remnants will likely get caught soon.

I expressed all this succinctly and positively.

“The Inquisition will take care of it well.”

“If it’s them, then they will.”

It felt like I had condensed a lot, but anyhow, things worked out well.

The Duke nodded knowingly and turned his head towards Camila.

“I’m proud that you dealt with the demon.”

“Hehe.”

With a gentle smile, she started scratching her head bashfully. Compliments could make even whales dance, and with both snacks and praise in the mix, she looked ready to soar through the ceiling any moment.

Yet, the atmosphere felt off.

Suddenly, the Duke unexpectedly smacked Camila on the crown of her head.

“Ouch! Why, why did you do that…?”

“What’s so funny about you grinning? News of what you all did has spread across the world.”

“…?”

While Camila, who was hit in confusion, tilted her head, newspapers fluttered through the air and spilled onto the table.

Only then did everything click into place. The main characters gracing the front pages of every newspaper were none other than our party.

My hand, which picked up the newspaper, turned pale and trembled. Meanwhile, the Duke let out deep sighs beside me.

“…I was so pleased that you used the blue flame (蒼焰) that I taught you ancient magic, but I forgot to first make you a proper human before I turned you into a magician.”

The dismayed mentor gazed at his disciple’s conduct.

Oh, I must have taught her wrong! I should have prioritized teaching morals over magic.

In the rush, I had thrown together a curriculum and ended up unleashing a psychopath (not really) serial arsonist (definitely) into the world!

“Mmm…!”

The Duke’s expression shifted wildly. It brightened, then darkened and flipped again, fluctuating like a yo-yo.

Surely it should be his nephew (Emperor Nikolai VI) suffering from senility, but why did it feel like he was the one losing his grip?

As the low groans continued, Camila fidgeted nervously. Regardless, I eagerly awaited the Duke’s lips to part with anticipation.

And finally.

At long last!

After a long, long wait, the Duke’s mouth opened, and the solution that came from her lips was as astute and innovative as a smack from King Solomon’s cheek!

“…Good! Let’s do it this way.”

 

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