From Ivan's perspective, this might have seemed like a horrifically primitive pre-modern society, but that's an absurd slander. Naturally, the people of this world are competent. (The incompetent couldn't survive.)
This competence cannot always be applied in virtuous directions, so most capable elites and those in high social positions build corruption with remarkable sophistication. (This is why the counterintelligence command believes in the inherent evil of human nature.)
As everyone knows, corruption from the competent is far more lethal than corruption from the foolish. This becomes especially true when it evolves from personal enrichment into a challenge against the social system.
That is to say, ambitious individuals who decide to side with the demon race to play in deeper waters.
"What should we do with these guys?"
"Why ask such a thing? Like an amateur. Let's handle it professionally, like professionals."
Dmitri shrugged and turned around. His long coat billowed behind him. As he turned his back, bang, bang. Two dry gunshots rang out.
Dmitri lit his cigarette to the accompaniment of gunfire. Inhale, exhale. The burning cigarette glowed red in the dark interior.
"Tiresome bastards."
The more sophisticated a social system becomes, the deeper ambitious individuals bury their ambitions in the shadows.
In this world, the "surviving ambitious" are all exceptionally competent. As mentioned earlier, the incompetent ones who revealed their ambitions during wartime have all been weeded out.
It's worthy of being called a world-scale eugenics experiment.
According to traditional syllogism, it goes like this:
1. All active rebels, terrorists, or anti-establishment figures have a certain skill.
2. Yet the social system of the United Kingdoms remains solid.
3. Therefore, all counterintelligence agents who catch these "competent rebels" are even more competent.
The war ended just 4 years ago. The national foundations of all kingdoms have been damaged to the point where they cannot withstand any more conflict.
Additionally, most of the working population has been lost. Primarily disappeared into the stomachs of the demon race.
A flow similar to when the Black Death struck and people's rights were elevated is unfolding. The difference, however, is that the nobles who exploit the common people are overwhelmingly powerful—literally wielding magical powers.
Naturally, conflict between the common people and their exploiters seems inevitable. Ready to burst into flames if someone were to fan the embers.
In social phenomena, when a major incident occurs, the culprit is usually the one who gains the most benefit.
When considering who would benefit most from a country burning, it would be these:
The demon race under colonial rule, neighboring countries, domestic rebels, royalty pushed out of power succession, ideologues immersed in populist ideology.
"Hah..."
Dmitri mixed a sigh with his cigarette smoke. There are so many. They're spread across multiple fronts both domestically and internationally, and Krasilov is currently on the brink of civil war.
The Krasilov Counterintelligence Command would have to stay up all night again today.
It was a tiresome summer night, no different from previous years.
Until Pritzenkaya burned.
Ivan was a peace-loving person, so he tended to resolve most problems through conversation.
If there was a minor issue, it would be that most people in this primitive era lock up their hearts and refuse to talk.
However, Ivan, as a clever modern person, easily solves this problem.
All locks are made of wood, and all wood breaks under an axe.
Therefore, among its many uses (bottle opener, can opener, head opener, etc.), Ivan's axe serves as a door opener, flinging open the locks on people's hearts.
"I'll... kuhurk!! I'll tell you everything! Stop! Stop!"
"Shh. I haven't even started yet."
"I said I'll talk!!"
Ivan shook his head at this amateur ideological activist.
Information shared before the heart's lock is fully opened is highly likely to contain falsehoods.
Therefore, to increase the reliability of information, a more open heart was needed. In a physical sense, opening the location where the heart resides usually opens the psychological heart as well.
"Nngh...!"
"I'll heal you now."
"Kill... me...!"
"Don't say such sad things."
Ivan gently whispered as he took out a healing potion to seal the widely opened heart.
Simply repeating torture is a bad move that lowers the quality of information. Information is easily distorted, and depending on the situation, people often believe and speak completely different memories as truth.
Therefore, to completely break down psychological barriers, Ivan also needed to temporarily abandon his modern intellectual abilities and adopt the primitiveness appropriate for this era.
After a brief psychological counseling session accompanied by warm consideration (avoiding vital organs when cutting) and delicate treatment (not sparing healing potions), the fifth spy he met eventually spoke the truth with dazed, unfocused eyes.
"Lord Dionarr... ugh... has already arrived in... Pritzenkaya... The signal for action... not us... Lord Dionarr himself..."
"That bastard is already active?"
"Yes, yes.... The contact is just a... facade... and we're also waiting for His Lordship's action..."
"What is Dionarr after? Is kidnapping Asidis the end goal?"
"No..."
This spy, known to be the contact for Dionarr, stared blankly at the sky with unfocused eyes, then suddenly tapped the floor.
As if that was answer enough.
When Ivan twitched his eyebrow, the man coughed up blood and barely continued.
"This place."
"...This place?"
"Pritzenkaya... Long live the rev-revolution... The sword of the people to the peo-people... Above people... only God exists... Under the kingdom of heaven... Kuluk! Ah, aah..."
He's broken.
Ivan clicked his tongue and stood up.
If Dionarr, who was supposed to arrive tomorrow or the day after, had already infiltrated the city, would he postpone his execution date after having already dispatched his attendants?
No, he wouldn't. Once discovered, he has nowhere to return to. If he went back to Droan, he'd be greeted by Einarr's angry axe blade.
Pritzenkaya is a vast metropolitan area. Therefore, finding a foreign spy who has entered illegally and whom you've never met is slightly more difficult than finding Mr. Kim in Seoul.
However, to find a snake, one must beat the grass.
If Dionarr notices that his hideout has been exposed and several of his attendants and operatives have been left alive after obvious torture, he would become extremely anxious.
"Asidis should be at home by now."
Pondering what it might mean to target Pritzenkaya itself, Ivan moved on.
He planned to first secure Asidis's safety, and if possible, preemptively stop Dionarr from ambushing her before questioning him.
He was quite curious about the psychological foundation of how attacking a member of the Hero Party could possibly be imagined as a method to conquer Pritzenkaya.
Asidis and Mord were quietly strolling through the night streets.
"Wow, I still can't get used to this. Don't you agree, Uncle? How can there be so few people on the streets?"
"This is what happens when a country is incompetent, Essie. Do you see how great a ruler your father is?"
"Ah, yes, well. I suppose so..."
Krasilov spent the last war under a single monarchy. Naturally, it's a country that operated under nationwide martial law and a wartime system for over a decade.
Even though peace has been restored, such a militaristic country wouldn't change in just 4 years. But Droan is different.
During the last war, Droan maintained a loose federation where dozens of Jarls each operated their own states.
This tribal nation has no centralized single power. Naturally, the rights of individual citizens are considerably more developed compared to other countries.
Even a warrior lying on the street is, after going through seven degrees of separation, probably the brother-in-law of a cousin of someone who is like a brother to a Jarl. That's what clan society means.
The frightening point here might be that warriors are sprawled all over the streets. But because of that, social security could develop in a more modern way.
Unlike civilized society, in tribal society, an axe gets planted in the head of those without manners. With everyone maintaining proper etiquette, why fear the night streets?
My goodness, the neighbor was robbed? Surprisingly, the robber is likely to be the neighbor's neighbor. It's a closed society. Then that robber-neighbor loses his head or wrist the next day.
Coming from such a society, the night streets of Pritzenkaya would seem quite bleak and harsh.
This was still an environment difficult to adapt to for Asidis, who had been in this city for nearly three months.
"Oh, Uncle. Have you been to that store? The waffles there are really delicious."
Usually, university waffle shops aren't places you go to eat alone. They're spaces for the merciless popular crowd.
Therefore, Asidis had never eaten waffles from that store. She had often stared blankly at people eating there before returning home.
With a voice full of regret, Asidis was continuously introducing nearby restaurants (meaning places that looked delicious) to her uncle as they passed the closed waffle shop.
"Ah, right. The waffle with strawberries on top there is delicious."
"...?!"
What Asidis overlooked was the fact that Mord was incredibly popular.
The Department of Knighthood is basically a stronghold of the strong. That is, a department of men who move according to the law of the strong.
It's impossible to dislike a Droan man who prides himself on being a man among men. On top of that, Mord was generous, wealthy (thanks to King Einarr's activity funds), and in most cases, kind as well.
Asidis, who had been ostracized for exactly the opposite reasons, now looked at Mord with a deeply hurt expression.
Traitor.
The world is full of traitors.
Having realized this harsh truth, the 20-year-old college student hung her head low and quietly muttered.
"Let's just go home. This isn't fun anymore."
"Should we buy something to eat on the way back?"
"No thanks!"
As they were about to head back home...
A random but welcome person appeared before their eyes.
"It's been a while, brother."
"...How did you get here?"
"What reason would I have to be here other than His Majesty's secret orders?"
"Uncle!!"
"Oh, Essie. Have you been well? It feels like ten years have passed even though it's only been three months since you left. The difference between having our niece in the palace or not is quite significant."
"Hehe, Uncle. Have you been well too?"
The person who appeared under the magic lamp in the night street was a large man with wild, spiky hair swept back.
Einarr's Huskarl. Dionarr Eriksson.