# Krasilov
The Krasilov diplomatic residence was located in the heart of the administrative district of San Matilenne, on a well-paved road surrounded by streets where wealthy citizens could be seen.
The national emblem depicting a gray grizzly bear fluttered roughly in the wind. Unlike the elegant buildings of Tilles, the Krasilov diplomatic residence stood fortress-like with the distinctive solid exterior characteristic of Krasilov architecture.
"Halt. This area is not Tilles territory."
A guard armed with a long spear growled roughly in front of Ivan and Pavel. It would be problematic if they treated everyone visiting the diplomatic residence this way, Ivan thought, mentally deducting a point. (For reference, he is a commander.)
"A Krasilov citizen visiting Krasilov territory—what's the problem?"
"Do you have identification?"
"Look here. Put that spear away. One wrong move and someone dies."
"...That's a warning. I never intended to kill anyone..."
"I meant you."
Pavel smirked and caught the spear blade with his fingertips. With a twirl, the spear shaft rotated half a turn and was suddenly gripped firmly in his hand.
The startled guard hurriedly reached for the gun at his waist, but Pavel clicked his tongue and stopped him.
After quietly looking down at the identification badge in Pavel's hand, the guard bowed his head.
"Training standards are abysmal. Standing with your back to the national emblem and displaying such disgraceful behavior. How dark the future of our homeland looks!"
"I... apologize, Lord Pavel Sergeyevich Olov."
"I'm certain the appointment notice was sent in advance."
"...Yes, please proceed inside."
"Unbelievable."
Pavel had arrived a day before Ivan. He had spent that day contacting informants and preparing the operational framework.
And that day was meant to provide sufficient lead time by the standards of this era, where information traveled slower than by messenger.
Pavel and Ivan were spies dispatched from central command. Unless the diplomats were complete fools, they would certainly be aware of this fact.
Krasilov was a civilized nation operating under a strict administrative system. And administrative systems inevitably create friction between departments.
The Foreign Intelligence Division belonged to the Counterintelligence Command, while foreign diplomatic residences fell under the Foreign Ministry. When jurisdictions overlapped like this, tensions were unavoidable.
From the diplomatic residence's perspective, officials from other departments could barge in, muddy the waters under the pretext of official business, and destroy carefully built diplomatic relationships before disappearing. In such cases, wouldn't the failure be attributed to the Foreign Ministry?
"Tsk."
Pavel frowned fiercely. This was why he had wanted to avoid Foreign Intelligence Division work. Too many underhanded individuals.
"Picking a fight with central officials directly commissioned by His Majesty? The Foreign Ministry folks just can't help themselves."
"They were under Alexandr's command."
"Then they should have been uprooted completely."
"That would have eliminated the entire diplomatic line."
Pavel slowly shook his head at Ivan's indifferent remark.
As recalled previously, the Foreign Ministry was the main base of the Crown Prince faction until Crown Prince Alexandr was ousted. While the Crown Prince supporters scattered throughout the country could all be purged, they couldn't deal with the diplomats already established in foreign posts.
Diplomacy means more than just negotiations between nations. If they purged all the diplomats who had already established sufficient networks in foreign countries, Krasilov would become completely isolated.
Even if they were untrustworthy subordinates, they had to be maintained. Fortunately, since the local diplomats had their families back in the homeland, they couldn't easily dream of treason.
Anyway, the state of the country is a mess. Like any country in this world, Ivan thought as he pushed open the heavy door of the diplomatic residence.
"I heard there was an incident with the guards. I'm truly sorry about that, Lord Pavel."
"Think nothing of it."
Pavel waved his hand dismissively while taking a sip of tea. The diplomatic consul, Gregory Schmidt, bowed slightly in respect.
Watching the scene, Ivan picked up his teacup at Pavel's gesture.
No poison.
This was why field agents worked in pairs. One person would identify potential dangers first and respond accordingly.
Seemingly unaware of this, Gregory continued with a weak smile.
"I was surprised to hear about a sudden dispatch from central command. Especially since I'm not familiar with you. Tilles is one of our major allies, so the Foreign Ministry usually sends carefully selected personnel."
"I am carefully selected personnel, I'll have you know."
"Haha, I apologize. I didn't mean it that way."
He did mean it that way.
An unknown official appears out of nowhere—not sure if he's nobility, or even legal nobility—and claims to be sent by the princess.
That would mean he reports directly to the princess, and if he's someone the princess can deploy, he must belong to the Counterintelligence Command.
So, who are you and what exactly are you here for?
With this meaning implied, Gregory smiled gently.
"A Tilles noble studying in our country has been 'missing.' At first, we thought he might have been drinking and passed out somewhere, like young people his age often do, but he hasn't been seen for days."
"My goodness, and then?"
"Whether it's the work of dishonorable individuals seeking ransom for a kidnapped noble, or some rogues from another country trying to shift blame to our nation, we can't be certain. We've been investigating, but it's not easy."
Pavel moistened his throat with a sip of tea. His green eyes gleamed sharply.
"So before things escalate further, shouldn't we inform the student's family and ask for their help?"
"Will the student be safe?"
"Well, I rather doubt it."
"We weren't that kind of thuggish nation. Until recently, wasn't it our principle never to take hostages under any circumstances?"
"That's dangerous talk, Consul. Hostages? Doesn't the term 'hostage' imply return?"
At Pavel's response, Gregory retreated with an expression of horror.
It was a statement that reeked of blood.
They kidnapped the student. And they plan to kill him. He's not being held hostage. The student won't be returning home.
The implication was razor-sharp. It was too much for a consul who had been stationed in a long-standing allied nation.
Gregory anxiously set down his teacup and quietly bowed his head.
"What do you want? I've served for over 20 years planting human resources in this country. Regardless of central policy. In this position, I've been the face representing our nation."
"I'd like to say thank you for your hard work. Sincerely."
At Pavel's indifferent response, Gregory's face contorted.
At that moment, Ivan, who had been quietly waiting, spoke up.
"You're not the only one who has served our country. Like everyone here. Serving without expecting rewards. Did the past years flow only for you? Did the last war sweep only over you?"
"You are..."
"I am Colonel Ivan Petrovich Yeremov. Commander of the Counterintelligence Command and the person in charge of this operation. Let's end this meaningless argument. What I need are all the human resources you've built, the material resources you can provide, and all the intangible assets you've planted in this country."
Gregory, who had not dared to meet Ivan's eyes, jerked his head up at those words.
"What exactly are you planning to do? Is our country preparing for war with Tilles?"
"Of course not."
Ivan snorted briefly and leaned back on the sofa.
Tap, tap, tap. After drumming the table with his index finger, he addressed Gregory.
"We've come to save this country, so you could call us reinforcements."
"What does that...!"
"Enough. We're not here to satisfy your curiosity. Gather all agents from the Counterintelligence Command and prepare for a meeting with Count Grandmartel."
"Was the student who was 'kidnapped' the Count of Grandmartel's son?"
"Hmm."
"You're insane... This is madness! And you still say there won't be war?"
"Of course. Why would war be necessary when we're going to find the villains who kidnapped the young lord with our own hands?"
This is Krasilov diplomacy.
Ivan looked at the consul with the demeanor of a reasonable diplomatic attaché.
Gregory pressed his brow and sighed.
"Count Grandmartel... cannot come to San Matilenne right now. If you want to meet him, you should go to his county directly. If you return alive, I'll prepare a train back to our country for you."
"That won't be necessary, Consul."
Ivan nodded briefly and rose from his seat.
"I have many other things to do, so I'll look into returning home at my own pace."
"Lord."
"Yes. May the Lord protect us all."
At Ivan's response, Pavel suppressed his laughter with a snort and stood up with a reddened face.
He patted Gregory's shoulder and said:
"Thank you for your hospitality, Consul."
This was the Counterintelligence Command's way of speaking. Traditionally, the Counterintelligence Command was weakest when dealing with foreigners and twice as strong when dealing with domestic nobles and high-ranking officials.
Since the Counterintelligence Command specialized more in domestic intelligence than foreign intelligence, they never lost the battle of intimidation against domestic nobles.
It was problematic to have attempted to gain the upper hand against agents from such an organization.
After the two men left, Gregory collapsed onto the sofa, sweating profusely.
"Should I defect..."
He probably couldn't. His wife and children remained in the homeland.
Gregory rubbed his face and muttered quietly.
"Those thugs..."