Episode 3 - Fantastique Vacation

It's a well-known fact that research institutes are a happy hunting ground for intelligence agencies. Whether state-run labs or those established by private corporations, no domain escapes the reach of intel organizations. South Korea's Defense Science Research Institute. America's DARPA. Britain's Defence Science and Technology Laboratory. France's Higher Institute for Defense Studies. Russia's Joint Institute for Nuclear Research. North Korea's Academy of Defense Science, and so on. Nations with a certain level of military power generally pour money into "defense," and defense-related research institutes handling state and military secrets are the darlings of every intelligence agency out there.

The National Intelligence Service, External Liaison Department, Cabinet Intelligence and Investigation Office, Ministry of State Security, Mossad, MI6, SVR, GRU, CIA, DGSE—you name it. To get their hands on defense-related data, these agencies recruit researchers as informants, steal classified documents, kidnap or assassinate key figures. Classic examples include the hundreds of hacking attempts on the Defense Science Research Institute every year, or the 2012 assassination of particle physicist Masoud Ali Mohammadi via car bomb in downtown Tehran, Iran. Nobody knows for sure who did it. But considering North-South Korea relations and Iran-Israel tensions, it's a safe bet that North Korean and Israeli intel were behind them, respectively.

Intelligence agencies don't hesitate to break the law in the name of national security. And the same goes for intel outfits in this world.

"Looks like we've got an industrial spy in our lab."

Not exactly shocking. The Military Intelligence Agency sprinkled its own industrial spies abroad whenever it got bored. In the middle of a cold war proxy? Spies are just Tuesday. Standard procedure: launch an investigation, grill employees for a few months, and snag the culprit. But...

"Where'd you say that was?"

"The Advanced Military Magic Research Institute."

Now things were getting serious.

"The lab scheduled to handle the Hero's examination in two days."

In the heart of the kingdom's capital stood a high-end restaurant. Clevins parted the fish flesh from its bones as he spoke.

"The Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. You've at least heard the name, right?"

"Yes, sir."

The Advanced Military Magic Research Institute was this world's version of a defense science lab. The only difference was that instead of missiles, aircraft, ships, or tanks, they produced magic. About a decade and a half ago, the era of one-trick pony magic faded, science advanced, and new fields like magitech emerged, leading to the lab's expansion and reorganization. In short, it was a hybrid defense research institute ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blending magic and science.

"Countries like the Empire or Patalia have their own versions. But it looks like our lab's security has been breached."

Clevins furrowed his brow, knife pausing mid-motion. Defense labs were usually under military jurisdiction, but security issues fell to intelligence agencies. So if a defense lab got hit, you'd see joint ops from military intel and national security. For reference, everything from facility size and location to researcher profiles and research data was classified at least Level 3, up to Level 2.

And since the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute was this world's defense science hub, its security fell under the Military Intelligence Agency. Yet intel had leaked from there.

"A recently recruited informant tipped us off about leaked researcher personnel data, and a few days ago, unauthorized communications originated from the lab."

The moment the informant hinted at personnel leaks, someone tried contacting the outside without clearance. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Instinct told me this wasn't some rogue employee's slip-up—it screamed industrial spy.

"So there's an industrial spy in the lab?"

"Suspicion stage for now. No hard evidence, and it's been less than a week, so we haven't even fully grasped the situation."

I leaned back in my chair and tossed out the obvious question.

"Can't we delay the exam, change the venue or personnel?"

"Can't delay with the Hero's condition. No facility or researchers in the kingdom outmatch the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute."

Camilla Lowell passed out mid-ability use. Lucia guessed mana exhaustion, but no one knew the real cause. So yeah, examine her now. The problem? The kingdom's top lab—handling the exam—had an industrial spy on the loose.

"...So we have to let them examine the Hero's health and abilities in a lab where we don't even know if there's a spy?"

"That's the gist."

Frustrating as hell. I was Military Intelligence, and the Hero's teammate. If something happened to Camilla Lowell in that lab, I'd be screwed. She arrived in two days—no time to dawdle.

"So what's my role there?"

"The immediate fire's out. Go in my stead and get a sitrep."

Whatever it was, I'd find out on-site. I nodded and stood.

"Don't overthink it—just pop in with a light heart."

"Got it."

Fantasy world's transport wasn't much different from modern times. But with magic, you got broomsticks piloted by mages and warp gates via teleport spells. Public offices, rich corps, fancy hotels had one or two. But critical national sites and military zones? No warp gates. Fences, armed guards—and a high-pass portal? Security nightmare.

So to reach the lab, broomstick it was.

"Almost there, Major!"

"What?!"

"We'll arrive soon—!"

The mage yelled, but wind drowned it out. Fierce gusts echoed in my ears, long branches nearly grazing my boots. Crossing the massive range, we tried talking, but it devolved to mumbles and we quit. Silently...

The moonlit landscape flowed like a panorama. Dawn mist tinted shy leaves. Distant cannon booms now and then. Twisting my neck on the steep slope, the towering peaks loomed close. Broom tilting right, an inverted moon shimmered over rapids below. Water splintered on rocks—fast current.

"We're here!"

"Here?!"

"Yes—!"

I finally caught it and looked ahead. A valley ringed by rugged mountains. Steep slopes, dense woods, swift deep river enclosing it. An island of land carved by nature. In the settled dark, faint lights flickered.

Skipped the tedious ID check and logbook—no broom dismount wait. Staff guided me straight in. Surprisingly, the lab was underground. For security and safety: bury the lab, build dorms and amenities topside. Turns out the unauthorized comms hit the surface dorms, not the lab proper.

Toured the facilities a bit, heard the investigation update, then surfaced to report to Clevins.

"Seems to be progressing well."

My whole purpose here was a field assessment in Clevins's place. I unfolded my scribbled notes and launched into the briefing.

"Five days ago at dawn, the military surveillance unit detected mana waves from the researcher dorms. The lab's internal affairs confirmed unauthorized comms and sealed the facility."

Here's the rundown: Five days back, 3 a.m. Nearby military surveillance picked up comms from the mountains—traced to the surface dorms. Duty officer phoned the lab. Internal affairs checked logs, confirmed no clearance, reported to the military, and with nearby units' help, locked down the whole place. Military Intelligence dispatched a team ASAP; they're just starting.

"Lab internal affairs and the dispatched intel team are running a joint probe. They're questioning suspects, planning dorm searches tomorrow."

"Nope, not yet."

Hmm. Clevins's grunt carried over the line.

"Nah, don't worry too much. Everyone's busting their asses."

"Yes, sir."

Three days in—no way intel on an industrial spy yet. A bit chaotic and hesitant, sure. But pros with experience; they'll handle it. My job here was done.

"So I head back now?"

"I'm not on vacation?"

What?

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Yes, sir. Understood."

Fine, discharge myself then.