Episode 5 - Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy
"Protests against the government are still ongoing in the Magic Tower right now."
"Government?"
"Ah, that's from the Magic Tower's perspective. From the locals' point of view, it is the government. They even have a parliament and all that. Yeah."
I quickly backpedaled on the political slip I'd let out in front of Camilla and Lucia. Maybe it was because they were from the Church, but the reaction wasn't great.
"A few days ago, we got an official dispatch at our delegation. It was about the protests."
I unfolded the document the Magic Tower police had sent over.
"It covered the scale and nature of the protests, their patterns, participants, ringleaders, and backing organizations. The local police and intelligence agencies concluded that an extremist group leading the protests is highly likely to cause an incident on Prevention Day."
Which meant security would be ramped up at the Prevention Day venue. Intelligence police and counterintelligence agencies would maintain a 24-hour response posture, while armed police and police-affiliated mages handled on-site security. Military Intelligence and the Inquisition would do the same.
"Just giving you a heads-up in advance. Check the documents I'm handing out now for the details."
"Um..."
Camilla tentatively raised her hand.
"Is it... like, really serious?"
"The protests themselves aren't that threatening, but the group behind them is."
I pulled out the dispatch from the Foreign Ministry in the file. It had photos attached, featuring symbols that anyone from here or Earth would recognize at a glance. A bright yellow sickle and hammer on a red background. A red letter A carved on black. And...
"...What's that?"
A manji bent in the opposite direction, tilted at a 45-degree angle. The kind that would give an Israeli a heart attack. The sort of symbol you'd get shot for carrying on European streets without a good excuse.
"Nazis."
"......"
"Communism, anarchism, Nazism. All ideologies imported from other worlds. Perfectly localized, too."
Thanks to that, the Military Intelligence entrance exam was a breeze for me. I flashed a grin, and Camilla covered her face with her hands.
"Bloody hell..."
Episode 5 - Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy
"Sieg heil."
"Don't."
"Heil Hitler?"
"I said don't."
Camilla ground her teeth and glared at me. No surprise, coming from someone whose homeland got pummeled by the Nazis. Her reaction was refreshingly intense. It was novel hearing her curse in English instead of the local tongue—must be a translator glitch.
I set down the book I was holding (a seized protester's item: a translated copy of My Struggle).
"You mad?"
"No."
"You're mad..."
I left Camilla fuming in silence and turned on the news.
"Shit, that startled me."
The volume was louder than expected—I nearly dropped the remote. The blaring voice was disorienting enough, but the fascist's tirade to the reporter scrambled my brain even more.
Camilla shot the TV a dirty look and held out her hand to me.
"Gimme."
"Nah, why? This is gold."
I dodged her grab, clutching the remote as I enjoyed the ultimate idiot parade. Communists, anarchists, and totalitarians took turns cornering the reporter, spewing their takes on the current crisis and preaching their visions of utopia to justify the protests. Obsolete ideologies back on Earth, but their perfect localization made the propaganda oddly entertaining. The highlight? Nazis and commies—who'd once smashed each other's skulls—marching together. Wonder what Hitler, who crushed the German Communist Party after winning the election, would think.
"No, seriously, why are those two even hanging out?"
"Why ask me?"
To explain why those clowns were buddy-buddy, I'd have to dive into a long history of oppression, the mage society's victim complex, interspecies conflicts, and supremacist bullshit. Like everything in the world, even idiocy has its reasons. But it was too complicated.
So I skipped the lecture. No need for Camilla to know.
I brushed it off. "Extremes attract, right? Anyway, the Magic Tower side says security's handled, so don't sweat it."
*
After briefing Camilla and Lucia on the Prevention schedule, I headed back to my hotel room. I sank into the sofa and reviewed reports.
Today's topics: intelligence on the three groups leading the anti-government protests, and an analysis of every terror incident in the Magic Tower to date. For the record, the first came from Abbas Foreign Ministry; the second from the Magic Tower's Public Order Protection Agency.
"Hmm..."
The content was refreshingly old-school. Heads of government, VIPs, government buildings, financial institutions, diplomatic missions—the works. Mostly political symbols and hard targets. Textbook classical terrorism, in jargon terms.
Clear perpetrators under central control, tactical goal of spreading fear, victims matching the targets, appeals to international support via grand causes, violence with room for dialogue to minimize collateral. That's how terror looked from the 19th to 20th century on Earth. Ethnic liberation, sovereignty restoration—the last resort for groups oppressed by corrupt, violent regimes (or foreign powers). Earth terror stayed that way into the early 2000s.
Until al-Qaeda hijacked planes and slammed them into the Twin Towers.
Post-9/11, "terror" to 21st-century Earthlings meant masked fanatics in sauna robes beheading hostages in the desert. That's when the term new terrorism kicked in for everything after. Langley folks said al-Qaeda showed mass-murder signs in the '90s, but I wouldn't know. Never worked counterterror.
Anyway, good news. No cases here of groups mowing down hundreds of civilians like those desert assholes. At least not yet.
I set the reports down and leaned back.
"Hey, Jake!"
"Yes sir! Coming!"
Jake hustled over from sorting dispatches.
"You called?"
"Yeah, I read 'em all. Send wires to the delegation and Magic Tower confirming schedules checked. Shred the rest."
"Got it."
Jake dumped the dispatches I'd handed him into the metal trash can. He pulled a small stone from a box on the desk, rubbed it in his palm.
Whoosh!
Flames erupted from his hand, birthing a tiny blazing bird that shot to the ceiling. It looped the room before diving into the can. The metal bin turned into an instant bonfire, incinerating the papers in seconds.
I couldn't help but gawk.
"Whoa. That a rune stone or whatever? Felt like a New World ending scene."
"Made by alchemists. Specifically, a guild collab between alchemists and spirit mages supplying public agencies. Delegation gave it for our use."
"Magic world's full of wonders."
I'd seen Camilla and my sister cast spells plenty, but magic tools in action? Rare. They're pricey. Lately, household ones are hitting the market—maybe snag one if it's that handy.
Jake held the stone over the can; the flames sucked back in. Reusable, huh? Really want one now.
"So, just the wires?"
"Yeah. That's today's work. Mind if I take this?"
"Sure, no issue. Manual's here—read it before use."
Fine by me if it's for ops. I pocketed the neatly folded manual and rune stone.
"Oh, right—how's the business side?"
"Prepping the next phase like you said."
Jake stowed the stone as he continued. "Dropped by quick—assets in good shape, staff safe and sound."
"Pippin nail the briefing?"
"She always does."
Pippin and Jake had met the Military Intelligence staff in on the op. As defense attachés, no overt meets, so midnight disguised office visits. Glad they're safe.
"Good. What about 51?"
"Staying home. No tails."
Fabio Verati had gone dark. Or the delegation cut his line. Promising sign.
I flipped open the wall calendar.
"Week's almost up. Tell him to prep for extraction."
"Roger. Squeeze the meet sooner?"
"Yeah. But post-Prevention. Nah—right after it ends. Public venue."
"Got a spot in mind?"
I recalled the terrain I'd memorized entering/exiting the hotel: nearby foreign hotels, optimal-route cafes.
"Suggest a cafe nearby."
Jake raised an eyebrow at my choice after a beat.
"Cafe? Kinda iffy, given his sitch..."
"We'll switch spots mid-way. You get me?"
"...Ah."
Jake nodded with a soft "whoa."
"I'll coord with delegation for venue list."
"Do it. Greet the office, pass my regards to staff."
*
Time flew. Signed MOUs with Magic Tower on Prevention ops, moved staff for the op, handled defense attaché duties, minded Camilla and Lucia. Met Dmitri and Sophia for updates now and then. Veronica too. Days blurred into each other.
Body adjusted—no fatigue.
Thus passed my breathless days until, at last,
"Magic Tower's ready to receive guests."
the day arrived.
"Us?"
"Same."
"Kick it off."
Francesca Lanieri and Fabio Verati. Time to meet them.