The White Niggers of Eire (1)

With a few exceptions, most post-modern documents related to magic were written in English or French. The reason was simple: because very little primitive magic had survived to the modern era, modern magic was, at its core, merely a degraded, inferior imitation of relic magic. Relics were the culmination of ancient attempts to imbue inorganic matter with magic in order to mimic primitive magic. And the vast majority of archaeological artifacts—which shared a massive overlap with magical relics—had been swept up entirely by Britain and France. In other words, the British Museum was the holy of holies, a sanctuary that any mage would dream of visiting at least once. Even if most of its contents were stolen goods, it was still an undeniable treasure trove of magic.

Yet, out of over five to six million items in its collection, only a few thousand possessed any magical properties. Proportionally speaking, that was a mere 0.02 percent. To make matters worse, most of those had utterly useless effects, meaning there were fewer than a hundred truly significant relics. According to the investigation I had Delice conduct, the British Ministry of Magic didn't even display this handful of genuine relics, choosing instead to lock them away in deep storage. Almost everything in the exhibition halls was a replica. Furthermore, the rotation cycle for genuine relics to move between storage and the exhibition halls was overwhelmingly longer than that of ordinary archaeological artifacts. This meant that once a relic was shoved into the vaults, it was highly unlikely to ever see the light of day again.

Of course, there were always exceptions. Some relics had become so famous long before their magical properties were discovered that the museum had no choice but to display the genuine articles. The prime example of this was EA24, the Rosetta Stone. As the virtual symbol of that massive house of stolen goods, it was simply impossible to move it elsewhere. Instead, they had cranked the level of magical wards surrounding it to the absolute maximum, as if to declare ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that they would tolerate no thief attempting to steal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the relic, day or night. Considering they themselves had essentially plundered it from Egypt, it was a classic case of a thief having a guilty conscience.

Thus, Pavel's concerns were entirely justified.

"As expected, it won't be easy, will it?"

"Naturally, ma'am. Even the wards my men have identified so far are incredibly troublesome to dismantle one by one."

"Which means a diversionary operation is absolutely essential... I suppose I'll have to ask everyone to push themselves a bit harder."

I couldn't make a move just yet. Even if I could somehow bypass the mages permanently stationed at the British Museum by the Ministry, there was still the inherent ability of the Rosetta Stone itself as a national artifact. Specifically, its ability to detect any magical threat directed at the relic itself or its owner at an early stage. My mage's intuition whispered that this very ability was likely the reason Great Britain still managed to maintain its title as an empire in this world. Fundamentally, it was because Stalin had accelerated the age of magic by several decades. Because of that, the Cold War had never ended, and the magical utility of several relics—including the Rosetta Stone, which originally wouldn't have been discovered until the dawn of the new millennium—had been revealed much sooner.

However, there was still one thing the British did not know.

The target of detection can be adjusted at will...!

Magic pushed to its absolute limit is ultimately no different from the laws of the universe, which aligns with the fact that primitive magic is, in essence, an imitation of natural phenomena. If so, why stop at magical threats? Why couldn't it detect bullets, mortar shells, and even ICBMs? Based on the Ministry documents I had perused, this was an ability that had not yet been discovered in this world. The scope of detection could be narrowed or widened as much as one desired. Naturally, this made the relic all the more enticing. The Rosetta Stone detects, and the Spiegel blocks. The counterattack launched immediately afterward would skyrocket my win rate in magical warfare.

"By the way, since my understanding of magic is still shallow... isn't that ability just too absurd? I mean, is such a thing even possible in the first place?"

It was only natural for him to have such doubts. To put it another way, that was precisely the kind of awe and disbelief a national artifact was meant to inspire.

"Yes, it's absurd. If the owner is the British government, it essentially means every magical offensive directed at this country is read in advance."

"Exactly my point. It just feels... too much like a cheat."

Humans naturally desire what they cannot have and overvalue it. Neither he nor I was any exception to that rule.

"That's why it's a national artifact. To others, the Spiegel probably looks just as ridiculous."

When I offered that prime example, Pavel wore an enlightened expression and readily agreed.

"I suppose you're right... A mirror that can repel any obstacle regardless of its physical properties. Come to think of it, the Spiegel really is an incredible piece of work."

If mages or lower-grade relics belonged to the category of tactical game-changers, national artifacts could be considered outright strategic weapons. This was why, even as most mages focused on mastering modern magic and marksmanship, state-sponsored efforts to manufacture new national artifacts continued to spring up like mushrooms after rain. Of course, as far as I knew, there had been no meaningful results. The world was merely squabbling over the scraps of past legacies. Though, since that very squabble was what granted me a second life after death, I suppose I couldn't call it entirely meaningless.

In any case, as long as that magical early-warning radar remained active, I couldn't set foot in the museum until the absolute final moment of the heist. Stealing a national artifact was not something that could be accomplished with half-hearted resolve, so our preparations had to be flawless. To lull the Ministry of Magic into a false sense of security, it would be best to keep a low profile for the next few months. While it was unclear exactly how it sensed threats, it was certain that the moment a threat was detected, the dense web of defenses established by the Ministry would spring into action. Among them would undoubtedly be numerous traps capable of inflicting catastrophic damage on both me and my syndicate. I wasn't such an idiot as to casually stick my head into a tiger's jaws whenever I felt like it.

"Anyway, I'm not saying we do it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right this second. We have more than enough on our plates as it is."

"Indeed. I was actually starting to worry that you've been pushing yourself too hard lately..."

"Shouldn't I be the one working the hardest? If I did less than you guys, what would everyone think of me?"

At this point, aside from routine smuggling operations, the tasks I had delegated to my subordinates were as follows: cataloging the British Museum's collection, purchasing the remaining residential properties in the Greenwich district, and relocating our Polish front company to London. Meanwhile, my own task had already been decided. I shifted my gaze to the second document lying underneath, which was the itinerary for our business trip to Northern Ireland. Noticing where my eyes had landed, Pavel asked,

"So, we are heading there? To draw the Ministry's attention away?"

"Yes. Besides, if we want to take over this country, we can't afford to leave a threat lingering in our rear."

Even if we swallowed Great Britain, our position would remain precarious unless we secured the island of Ireland. Even if we maintained a public facade of hostility, the entire British Isles had to be firmly under my control in reality. To achieve that, I had to bring the IRA to heel first. Rather than letting them plot random terror attacks in Dublin, Belfast, or London, it was far better to turn them into my personal puppets. When we ambushed the prison transport in the Blackwall Tunnel to kidnap that puppet commie, the Irish fellow we accidentally bagged along with him wasn't called an unexpected harvest for nothing.

Furthermore—

I need to sever their ties with the communists beforehand.

The open honeymoon phase between the IRA and communist nations was well-known. Since the IRA openly championed socialism, I had to sever this connection to fully establish a bridgehead to continental Europe without having to walk on eggshells around the Soviet Union. The fact that the British Ministry of Magic's authority did not fully reach Northern Ireland, coupled with the absence of a proper centralized magical organization there, made the region look like an incredibly ripe fruit. Countless minor factions were constantly aligning, betraying, and sharing uncomfortable beds like feudal lords. My syndicate, thrust into the center of that chaos, would easily become a predator capable of devouring that tiny region's magical underworld in no time. Since I could later use them as a distraction when stealing the Rosetta Stone, it was a territory well worth claiming in advance.

And so, June 21st, the summer solstice. Belfast, Northern Ireland.

"Yes, you can delegate the monastery acquisition to the finance department. Just make sure to keep a close eye on the Ministry's movements."

Delice's voice over the line carried nothing but absolute loyalty, a stark contrast to our first meeting when he had babbled about me being his father's murderer. Since I was confident he would never betray me under any circumstances, I had left the London operations in the hands of Delice and my other lieutenants while Pavel and I traveled to Belfast. Originally, I had assigned the critical roles of Security, HR, Technology, and Finance to the four subordinates who had escaped Kaliningrad with me, but I had appointed Delice to head the Information department. It was a Pentarchy operating under my absolute authority.

After taking over a vehicle from the syndicate members who had already established a foothold in Belfast, we headed straight to our hotel. I could have easily ordered my men to secure a private residence, but considering the potential surveillance or background checks from the Ministry of Magic in the future, it was wiser to maintain the facade of visiting businesspeople.

Along the route to the hotel, quite a few striking slogans caught my eye.

'Brits out!' indeed.

The roots of the conflict ran so deep, and nearly half of the ordinary civilians sympathized with the IRA, so it was only natural that such graffiti was plastered everywhere. Which meant that whatever I did here would easily be buried under the noise of their everyday conflict. Pavel watched the words flash past the car window and chimed in.

"It certainly is chaotic."

Just as he said, it was a sight not easily found anywhere else in the modern world. To stabilize our rear, we would eventually need to foster some semblance of compromise, even if it wasn't feasible immediately. I couldn't stand by and watch resources being wasted on petty ethnic squabbles within my own territory. For now, let those at the bottom of society fire their mortars and shoot their guns as they pleased. I didn't have the luxury to worry about humans who knew nothing of the magical path. Only, the master of their souls would change without them ever realizing it. It was merely a matter of time; eventually, all of their souls would fall under my dominion.

After unpacking our bags in our room, I saw no reason to waste any more time and headed down to the lobby, our designated meeting spot. As we walked, I leaned in and whispered to Pavel.

"Are you ready to play your part? When we meet them, you need to be Pavel, the man who holds the Szczecin underworld in his palm."

"You don't need to worry, Lady Yerina. It's a role Lord Vronsky used to assign to me quite often as well."

"Pfft, right. You might as well enjoy being in a higher position than me for once, shouldn't you?"

"...You seem relaxed enough to crack jokes. I'm envious."

He seemed a bit tense, but this was more than enough to pass. On the surface, I was going to play the role of Pavel's secretary. It made sense outwardly, and there were certain things that could only be accomplished by putting on such an act. Since we couldn't meet the IRA openly under our syndicate's real name, we utilized a front company the organization had previously used in Poland. On paper, it was a business established by the father of my alias, 'Irene Lonska,' but in reality, it was a smuggling hub my father had set up in Poland. Our Eastern Bloc branches had lost contact long ago, but what would these amateur terrorists holed up in Ireland know about that? They would never find out the truth anyway.

"This is our first time meeting face-to-face. I am Director Tsoy of Szczecin-Oder Logistics."

I casually scanned the faces of the men seated before us while Pavel introduced himself. Thanks to the attention that had already gravitated toward me, a thick fog immediately began to bloom inside the brains of these self-proclaimed patriots the moment our eyes met. The man who appeared to be the highest-ranking among ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them barely managed to tear his eyes away from me and addressed Pavel.

"Pleasure to meet you. I am Connor McDermott, Belfast Quartermaster of the Provisional IRA. And this person is...?"

"My secretary. She and I share even our closest corporate secrets, so you may speak freely in her presence."

I stifled a chuckle. To think that was the best question he could muster after barely tearing his eyes away. I suppose this, too, was the limitation of a non-mage. I returned their stares with a thoroughly artificial smile. At that, they cleared their throats with a few dry coughs and awkwardly adjusted their postures. Since I had intentionally worn thin clothing suited for the season, they would probably have to stand up very carefully if they wanted to leave their seats anytime soon.