On the way to the treasure hall, Navelun kept exclaiming as if he were extremely excited, with most of his praises directed towards Secretary.
“Isn’t he truly remarkable? Handling the situation where his beloved son was kidnapped by rebels with such composure!”
“Yes.”
“Not once did he mention his son. To reclaim this land, in other words, to clearly grasp the ‘strategic objective’ you mentioned, isn’t it? Choosing the nation over his son. Truly an exemplary figure… like an incarnation of pragmatism!”
“…Yes.”
Ivan nodded without much reaction. And at the same time, he thought. Well, from the perspective of a ‘human’ not indoctrinated in pragmatism, the Secretary’s words were quite subtle.
The issue the Secretary raised was simple.
– Will you return the remaining half of this mountain range to us?
This was a highly political matter. To the dwarves, it might sound like “Deal with the remnants of Abiditas and end the war.”
The dwarves, being the involved party, equated ‘remnants of Abiditas’ with ‘dwarf rebels.’ But the situation was more complicated than that.
While it was true that the dwarf rebels were being inflated like scarecrows in the clutches of the necromancers, it was not as if the dwarf rebels would suddenly disappear if the necromancers were dealt with.
Both sides were deeply entrenched to the point where reconciliation seemed impossible. The terms of surrender were essentially no different from a surrender document leading to one’s own execution.
The Secretary was aware of this fact. Killing Abiditas wouldn’t bring back half of the mountain range, nor would it even enable Ivan to tidy up the remaining dwarf rebels.
His role was limited to the strike team and the rescue team. Frontal assault was not his forte.
“The Secretary did not abandon his son.”
Therefore, Ivan’s conclusion was as follows:
He acted in a way that could be perceived by his people as issuing strict orders as a ‘great leader who sacrificed his son for the nation.’
It must have been a last resort. At the point where half the nation had turned its back on him, his leadership might already have been in doubt. For the sake of strong charisma, one must be willing to make decisions even if it means sacrificing one’s own child.
Furthermore, asking for assistance from humans also entails political risks. It would be difficult to shed the frame of being a dictator who clung to enemies and massacred the people immediately after the civil war ends.
So, directly requesting to rescue his son is not possible.
– Return the remaining half of this mountain range.
The Secretary implied his ownership of the entire mountain range. Beyond the mere pretext of pragmatism, this great dictator was confident in his feudal authority, surpassing.
However, at the same time,
– Return the remaining half.
He was also a father who acknowledged that his son was his other half.
If it seemed he would issue orders to assassinate the remnants of Abiditas and abandon his son, he would have conducted a more efficient investigation.
“And he even devised a safety net.”
Once the pretextual investigation clears some political implications, it will appear as an order to “assassinate the remnants of Abiditas.” Surely, it will be written so explicitly in formal requests.
Therefore, if Ivan rescues his son and gives up targeting the enemy leadership, he will attempt to leverage this in diplomacy with Krasilov.
His misjudgment of the support troops has led to a dilemma in the situation.
Prioritizing the assassination of the leadership also poses problems. Originally, when formally requesting support from Krasilov, the demand was for the “rescue of the Secretary’s son.”
“If I had wanted to prevent the war in the first place, I would have requested support from the Northern Command.”
If Krasilov’s support troops solve everything, what remains for the dwarves is nothing more or less than a vassal state. Even if it meant preparing for such a scenario, they had to strive for the independence of the nation.
It’s an extremely intricate and astute political game.
“Enrique.”
“Yeah?”
“Huh?!”
Navelun looked startled as Enrique suddenly dropped from the ceiling. In this solemn secret passage from the Secretary’s palace to the treasure hall, Enrique had clandestinely infiltrated and waited.
Before Navelun could react, Ivan looked at her and spoke.
“How much did you hear?”
“Everything.”
“Do you understand the situation?”
“Yes.”
“I’m counting on you.”
The mature elder, who had lived for over 100 years, astutely grasped all the circumstances in the brief conversation.
As a long-time partner, Ivan felt reassured to have such a reliable ally.
“The Secretary’s desires encompass both the assassination of the necromancers and the rescue of his son.”
“Both of these objectives are impossible to achieve simultaneously.”
“If both are not accomplished, the Secretary will attempt to gain the upper hand in formal diplomacy with Krasilov.”
Ultimately, this man was prepared to profit from every situation if the end of this civil war was not defeat.
Then, they must make a move.
Being exploited like servants by these moles and even having their wages plundered simply didn’t add up.
Ivan’s statement, “Both objectives cannot be achieved simultaneously,” was correct, excluding the subject “I.”
And he wasn’t alone in this. Here, there was a veteran who had directly overseen all his tactics, a mentor who had guided him and patrolled alongside him, and a partner who had handled reconnaissance and tactical support from the rear in the hero party.
Ivan alone could serve as a substitute for the annihilation unit’s role as a mere strike team.
And the current force with Enrique was no less formidable than the strike team formation that assassinated the Seven Dragon Generals back in the day.
Once the dwarves realized this fact, they should have learned more than just diplomacy on the diplomatic front.
They should remember that the Tarantula and Shadow Blade always lurked at the end of the railway line leading from Frechenkaya to Andgrind.
“Which way should we go then, apprentice? Rescue?”
“No.”
“Alright, figured as much. Let’s do this: I’ll handle the rescue, you take care of the assassination.”
“See you in the Ops room.”
“Yeah, have a good shopping trip.”
Enrique chuckled and melted back into the darkness.
Ignoring the astonished Navelun, Ivan moved on, deep in thought.
Enrique would take on the mission of rescuing the Secretary’s son, while he himself would handle the task of cleaning up the remnants of Abiditas.
This division of roles was no different from the time they had shared in the past.
Soon, very soon. They would depart shortly. Just wait a little longer.
Ivan whispered softly to the necromancers lurking somewhere at the end of the passage as he walked.
***
Andgrind, meaning “World” in ancient Dwarven runes. This word not only signified the dwarves’ arrogance but also hinted at the richness of this underground realm.
There was no need to venture outside. All minerals, all resources, all territories lay beneath this underground realm.
A vast barrier spanning the northern reaches of the continent, another “World” extending deep underground, beyond the sky mountains, in itself.
Here, the dwarves had waged wars as long as their history. Sometimes with the northern tribes, sometimes with the subterranean creatures, and occasionally with external invaders, and finally, conflicts among their own dwarven kin.
This meant one thing. Just as humanity’s territory was smaller compared to the world, the dwarf population was clearly inadequate compared to the breadth of the “World.”
In other words, in this vast expanse and the dark world beneath the ground, there would inevitably be gaps in military strength on the outskirts of dwarven civilization.
“Screech… Screech…!”
“Not again, damn it.”
At relay station 6 of Sector 17, the duty soldier in charge of the communication network with the surrounding three sectors muttered as he put down the receiver.
Due to the solid ground and abundant magic-infused ore veins, all types of communication had to rely on mail couriers or magic-powered communication lines. (Unfortunately, the dwarves’ stature rendered mail couriers impractical due to their slow walking speed.)
Even the most delicate product of engineering, such as communication lines, could easily break. Just stepping on them with military boots along the road could cause a strand of the communication network to snap.
Therefore, the noise coming from the receiver was just one of those everyday issues.
“Hello, can you hear me? This is the relay station, the relay station. Respond, Sector 5.”
– Static… Static.
“Sector 5 is down too?”
The dwarf, who had been yawning, scratched his beard roughly and grumbled.
There was no tension in the recently solidified front lines, and those “corpse lovers” in the rear were holed up in their chambers preparing for something, so there was hardly any sense of war in this outpost far from the front lines.
It was just another mundane duty as usual, and like all duties, they half-dozed, filled out duty reports every hour, secretly snacked on jerky, and answered duty calls.
But at this point, when reports from each outpost should come in every 10 minutes, there had been no response for the past 30 minutes.
“Hello, Sector 4? Can you hear me?”
– Static…
“…Sector 9. Can you hear me? Respond. This is the relay station.”
– Static. Buzz…
At this point, anxiety suddenly surged. A situation of wireless silence where even one communication line was cut off was unheard of.
Only then did the word “war” begin to whisper quietly in the dwarf’s mind. Although it was an outpost far from the front lines, he was still part of the rebels.
All rebels in this world tend to have paranoid delusions. They knew they would be led to the gallows the moment they were captured as prisoners of war. The moment the threat of war came to mind, the duty soldier began to press the relay machine anxiously.
“Sector 1, Sector 2… Sector 11!! Relay station 16, respond. Sector 15! Sector 19!!”
– Static, buzz, buzz….
“Northwest Command, this is Sector 15, Sector 15 relay station. Respond!”
– Buzz, buzz.
At this point, it was no longer just a problem with one or two communication lines. It was impossible for all the lines connecting numerous sectors to be severed simultaneously by chance.
It was deliberate sabotage. But would dwarves conduct such sabotage from such a distant rear? That would be impossible even in the days when there were still Earth Movers during wartime.
The duty soldier anxiously scratched his beard and surveyed his surroundings with small eyes.
“…Gulp.”
There were a total of five tunnels extending from the relay station as the center. Since one of them led to the rear command post, he scanned the four front tunnels randomly, swallowing nervously.
How long until the next shift arrives? Damn it, if I get through this time, I’ll insist on having two soldiers on duty together next time. No matter how far back it is, no matter how short-handed the front lines are, this is just too much.
– Thud.
At that moment, a distant rumble was heard from one of the tunnels. The duty soldier quickly raised his pistol with a gasp.
– Thud!
“Who goes there!!”
The white magical lamp, which was gradually illuminating the tunnel, suddenly went out with a thud. It was in the direction of Sector 14… The duty soldier licked his dry lips and aimed his trembling gun.
Again.
– Thud—!!
Lights went out in the tunnel opposite.
– Thud—!!
In another tunnel, and yet another.
Finally, darkness descended over all four tunnels leading to the front sectors.
In a panic, the duty soldier hastily raised the receiver of the relay machine and began pressing the buttons frantically.
“Anyone respond! Urgent! Urgent situation!! Requesting backup!!! I repeat, requesting backup!!”
The terrified dwarf’s scream echoed through the relay station, filling it with a sense of dread. The only response was the silence, mixed with static, reverberating in the aftermath.
As one feeble magical lamp barely pushed back the darkness in front of his nose, a thud was heard from beyond the relay machine.
“Can you hear me? Can you hear me!! Oh, ancestors. Damn it. Comrades!! This is the relay station. Sector 17 relay station! Requesting backup!!”
– Where are you located?
“Damn it, the location! Is there more than one relay station in Sector 17? It’s in Sector 17, Tunnel 6!! Hurry! Urgent situation!!”
– Understood.
With a thud, the signal was cut off.
The duty soldier’s mind seemed to come back to life as if by magic. His brain, which had been paralyzed by fear, began to actively capture oxygen with a sense of relief.
He gasped for breath, and suddenly, his brain, finally starting to function rationally, managed to entertain a thought.
‘Wait a minute. Who… is this?’
Because he had been randomly pressing the relay machine, he couldn’t confirm which sector’s response he had received. And even if it was a response from a particular sector, there couldn’t be a case where they ignored the communication procedure and jumped straight to the point.
Even if such a case existed, there was no reason to inquire about the location of the relay station.
If, by any chance, he really didn’t know the location of the relay station… there was no way the conversation would end like this.
‘Who is it? Who… could it be?’
Could it be the ‘moderates’? Or, perhaps, the demons who breached the outer gate from this direction? Or… or….
– Don’t stay alone at the end of the dark tunnel.
An old adage brushed his mind.
– The tarantula is coming.
The whisper, now a superstition after several years, swept through his mind.
The festival the dwarves held upon everyone’s death largely diluted the fear of the long-standing superstition, now just a nursery rhyme to scare children.
For those who remember that time, those who have experienced battle, it occasionally stirs up that adage.
– Clomp, clomp, clomp.
Footsteps were heard from the end of the tunnel.
The dwarf jerkily raised his gun and fired in the direction of the sound.
Bang, bang! Ting… The sound of casings rolling, the noise of bullets ricocheting somewhere in the tunnel. In between,
– Clomp, clomp, clomp.
The footsteps didn’t stop.
“Reveal yourself! I demand to know your identity!!”
– Bang!! Bang! Clack, tick. Tick. Tick.
Even with trembling hands, unable to properly load a bullet, he just aimed down the end of the tunnel.
Regular sounds echoed in the ears of the trembling dwarf, like a beating heart, slow and quiet, squeezing the breath out of his lungs.
– Clomp, clomp, clomp.
*
“Deliver the message to Enrique. Successful penetration of Northern Gate 5.”
“Yes, sir! Successful penetration of Northern Gate 5!!”
“Quietly.”
“Yes, sir!!”
“Silence.”
“Yes, sir!!!”
Glancing at the playful Lucia, Ivan quietly sighed.
Lucia chuckled and soon closed her eyes tightly.
With a flash of magic, crimson veins popped out on her pale white skin.
Vampire link, transmitting vital signals to the ancestor’s bloodline.
Although complex conversations weren’t possible, short signals could be transmitted within a certain distance regardless of terrain. Tap, tap, tap. Signals akin to the beating of a heart.
Just as Morse code proved in the early 19th century, transient signal stimulation was an excellent communication tool. Enrique didn’t operate an intelligence organization for nothing.
And Lucia, Enrique’s immediate successor, half-vampire and half-human, successfully absorbed almost all of Enrique’s malice. Naturally, her level of skill far surpassed that of other vampires.
If there was a problem, it was her personality. According to Ivan’s thoughts, she seemed like a 200-year-younger Enrique.
Taking away the years from an old woman and leaving just the childishness. In other words, just like a child.
‘But it’ll still be a good learning experience.’
Among the children of the Hero Party, she was the one who directly received the teachings of the previous Hero Party. It meant she was the most outstanding among the new Hero Party members, lacking only practical experience.
A great agent never achieves just one goal in a single operation. Always aiming for beyond the objective, Ivan deeply cherished those teachings.
Even in this operation, as someone who had graduated with excellent grades from the mature education system of the 21st century, he was planning to educate the young students as an educator.
Lucia was enough to assist as a communication soldier from a distant point. Since he could personally provide guidance, practical education was possible.
“What’s the response?”
“Understood. Operation proceeding as planned!”
“Confirmed. Move out.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Quietly.”
“Yes, sir!!!”
Is she doing this on purpose? Turning around, he found a look that seemed to confirm she was indeed doing it on purpose.
Ivan, who spent his childhood during the time of the student rights ordinance, doesn’t resort to violence for discipline.
But he wanted to hit her once. He reflexively reached for his belt, then quietly withdrew his hand from the axe handle. Instead, he sighed.
Every time he thought that it wouldn’t hurt to use a primitive education method in this primitive pre-modern society.
Suppressing the urge with a determination to maintain dignity as a representative of Earth civilization.
Andrugrund, “The Book of Valor,” Day 2 of Operation Execution. This happened just after the occupation of the first target point.
