Episode 2 - Heroes of the Continent
On the way to the Papal State's Ministry of State, a gentle breeze tickled my forehead. The weather was damn nice. As I looked up at the sky with its fluffy clouds, wondering what the day would bring...
"Uwaaaagh—!"
...the Hero started puking her guts out.
"Get a grip, Hero! You can't pass out!"
Pippin yelled while slapping her back. Her face was just as pale as Camilla's—looked like she was fighting her own nausea.
"Pippin, you okay?"
"My stomach's churning too, sir—er, Lieutenant Colonel."
"Fuckin' great."
Go pop some anti-nausea meds and rest up.
Pippin bolted toward the infirmary, her short bob haircut flapping like crazy. She looked like a dog with its tail on fire—quite the sight.
"Hey! Camilla Lowell! You with us?"
"I... think I'm gonna lose it..."
With that final whimper, Camilla Lowell's head lolled forward. I grabbed her shoulders and shook gently, but she didn't even twitch.
"Hellooo?"
Yeah, she was out cold.
Episode 2 - Heroes of the Continent
I laid the limp Camilla Lowell out in the infirmary like a corpse and headed back to the deck. Pippin looked like hell, and Jake was gawking around like a tourist.
Sensing my presence or whatever, Jake turned and eyed me. With that blond hair, he kinda resembled a meerkat.
"How's the Hero?"
"You care more about her than your superior?"
"Heh! I know you don't get seasick, Colonel Frederic. You're built like a tank, right?"
The punk shot back with a lazy grin. His mouth could piss you off, but I knew he was just a playful guy, so I let it slide as banter.
"You little shit. Fine, your precious Hero's laid up in the infirmary. How's Pippin?"
"She just took some meds and is resting now. Stomach seems better, but..."
I followed his trailing gaze to Pippin's face. She looked one breath away from keeling over. Guess I never realized she got seasick—we'd never sailed together before.
"Jake, help Pippin to the cabin. Fresh air on deck makes it worse."
"Got it."
I led them to cabins near the infirmary. Pretending to hit the head, I scanned for watchers or bugs—rat bastards listening in. Checked on the Hero while I was at it; she'd be out for a while.
No one around, plenty of time, secure spot. I locked the cabin door, headed to the corner where the two were slumped, and approached.
"Yo, Pippin. You alive?"
"Yessir. Feeling better now."
"Good, good. Got something to say about this mission. Gather 'round."
The three spies huddled up and started whispering.
The one with the lieutenant colonel insignia spoke first.
"We're heading overseas this time, right? We're going to the Papal State now, but once business there wraps, we'll probably head to the Empire."
"You mean the Kien Empire?"
"Jake, there two empires on the continent? Obviously Kien, dumbass. Anyway, soon as the saintess candidate joins us from the Church, we're off to the Empire. One of the Hero's companions is at the Magic Tower."
"Magic Tower? Oh, the one in the Kien Empire."
"Got an alchemist there. She's one of the Hero's companions—lowest on the succession list. With all the successor drama, pulling her out quick might be tough."
Jake cracked open some peanuts from the cabin stash and tilted his head.
"If we stick around till the successor's picked, won't we be in the Empire a long time?"
"No clue on duration. It's internal Tower politics—hard to predict."
"You used to handle Kien, right, sir? Tower stuff's another department."
"You know your shit. Point is, we'll be stuck in Kien long-term. No telling when we leave; might have to hunker down."
Pippin, color returning to her face, stroked her chin thoughtfully.
"Staying long in Kien sounds risky, no? Relations improved lately, but it's still enemy territory. You're fine, sir, but we're Military Intelligence."
"You're disguised as diplomats too—no immediate issues."
The blond tanned punk Jake raised a hand slightly.
"Uh, Colonel. I don't know much about the Empire, but..."
"Spit it out."
"That place with the Imperial Guard, right?"
"Yeah."
Jake and Pippin's faces went ghost white.
The Kien Empire's Imperial Guard—famous even to civilians. Sword of the Throne. Shield of the Empire. Graveyard of spies. Hardened bastards who tortured countless suspects, rooted out agents, crushed rebellions. They'd dominated the intel network across vast lands for centuries. Infamous counterintel outfit. In some ways, tougher than Colonel Clevins.
No surprise at their reaction.
"Sorry, sir, but do we have to go there?"
And I replied:
"Yep."
I'm your boss, assholes.
*
Like every low-rank grunt in the world, Pippin and Jake had no choice but to nod along. Pissed? Level up then. Our pay came from taxpayer money, not the sky.
"Quit moping and perk up. You get hazard pay and all that—fat stacks."
"Didn't know hazard pay meant this."
"What, you gonna hog the kingdom's cash without earning it?"
"Rich NEET's my dream job."
"Jesus, enough bullshit. Focus."
I scribbled on a scrap of paper with a ballpoint. Drew a big circle for easy viewing. Added words inside: Papal State. Empire.
"We're not on vacation—we're collecting the Hero's companions. Second one's Lucia, saintess candidate at the Church. Alchemist's next."
"Why's the saintess candidate second?"
"I'm a companion too, right? Makes me first. Anyway, skipping the alchemist—focus on the priestess. Listen up."
I doodled under the Papal State circle: Lucia. Saintess candidate.
"Key point: she's a saintess candidate now. You know what that means?"
"Yes. Church saint. Highest divine affinity gets nominated, elected by bishops."
"Right, elected position. Like picking congressmen."
"But there's already a saintess. Isn't it one per term?"
"Normally, yeah. Not law, but custom—no more than one."
Veronica Saintess. Custom. One only.
I jabbed Veronica's name with the pen.
"That's your current saintess. Long-ass name, but Veronica works. What'd I say earlier?"
"No more than one saintess—Church custom?"
"Bingo. Been that way for centuries, set in stone. But it's broken now."
I erased "custom," scrawled "proviso" next to it.
"Why?"
"...Oracle named her. As Hero's companion."
"Exactly."
Underlined proviso, slammed "Oracle" down.
"Religious nuts are crazy—faith-crazed, money-crazed."
"Power-crazed too."
"Veronica's Kien noble. Like Jake said, Church hates no money or power. Empire-backed, so they picked her."
"Election meddling?"
"Yeah. Circumstantial—Empire interfered. Don't know who exactly."
"Hmm..."
Pippin, chin-propped, closed her eyes in thought.
"I'm an orphan, raised in a convent. Heard nuns chatting with a Church guy once."
Something there. Instinct kicked in; I jotted her words fast.
"Back when Veronica was candidate. Jake, know posters?"
"Posters? Like students and intellectuals plastering squares?"
Pippin cracked her eyes, gaze sharpening.
"Yeah... Not our convent, but Church ones. Said someone spread cash in the election. Bishops took bribes. Something like that."
"Pippin, details."
"Someone interfered, bribed bishops... pricey art, jewels."
Huh. More specific than expected. Reliable even accounting for memory bias.
"Art and gems—easy money laundering. Church does charity auctions, right?"
"Yeah, annual orphanage events per diocese. Central holds periodic ones."
"Lots of Empire folk?"
"Money's got no nationality. All glory-hungry pigs."
Pippin sneered coldly, tilting her head. Bitter gripe at harsh reality.
"But tons from Empire, I remember. Traders galore, big money, hangers-on gobbling scraps."
Jake, who'd been listening, chimed in.
"So they bribed bishops to make Veronica saintess?"
"Hell if I know."
"Back to candidate."
I dotted the words, tapped the paper. Their eyes locked on me.
"Lucia, Hero's companion, is in Church elections—verification phase, really."
"Vote date?"
"No intel. Internal Church. Key: she's under external attack. Conspiracies, smears."
"Church elections no different from ours."
Jake grinned like it was ridiculous. Least they don't deliver bombs.
I tapped the paper with the pen end, continuing.
"We gotta escort this candidate, win or lose. But someone's gunning for her."
"Tarnishing the candidate's name."
"What happens if she joins Hero now?"
Group shitstorm.
"Joins mid-process? 'Fled verification.' Elected? Backlash."
"Hero catches heat too?"
Smart kids—quick reasoning. Or just spy habit.
"Hero's our kingdom's summon. Details classified, but bigwigs love her."
Shaking hands, photos—just days ago. Damage her rep over companions? Disaster. Kingdom takes splash damage too. Guilty or not, Empire spins it. Plots don't need proof.
Sucks for Lucia, but saintess drama ain't our problem. Protect Hero/kingdom image. Our job.
"So we stop Hero and candidate from getting dragged?"
"Yep. Hero's not catching flak yet—watch and intervene. Got it?"
"Yes. Pippin and I'll gather intel on arrival."
"Good. I'll tag with Hero, feel out the vibe."
*
Leaning into the breeze, I fiddled with the comms device. Familiar voice crackled through.
"...Better intel than expected, Colonel."
"So it seems."
"Good subordinates. Was digging anyway—turns out witness close by. Right?"
Yeah.
"Anyway, investigating involved parties. Moving agents in Church too. Proceed cautiously on your end."
"Work during elections? Worry our moves stir trouble."
"Who'd bitch about Hero's companion helping in God's house? Have confidence, Colonel. Don't trash the place, it'll sort."
Work hard, don't overdo. But Colonel cleaning Church mess? Fishy vibe.
I glanced around, whispered low.
"...Kingdom didn't bribe Church too, right?"
"Wanna know?"
"Nope."
"Wise choice."
Don't know, don't care.
"I'll follow official schedule, gauge Church mood on arrival. Formal orders after your intel analysis."
"Yeah. You grab more work leaving Intel than in. Should've kicked you out sooner."
His usual laugh with a killer joke. Couldn't get mad, so I chuckled too.
"Signing off."
"One thing—ETA?"
"Morning, maybe lunch. And go easy on convent folks. Like family to my favorites."
"Got it. Later."
"Rest easy."
Line cut. I stared at the dark screen, pocketed the device. Stars flowed on the calm river—like the Milky Way.
Gazing at the river like this always brought back that day. The battle when I got the medal.
"...Sigh."
I turned from the rail, headed to the cabin. Wind whipped my coat; far off, Pippin and Jake waited.
"How much longer?"
"Six hours till docking."
"Overnight then. You two crash."
I shoved their backs into the cabin.
And so, the boat carrying four souls arrived at the Papal State.