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Episode 15 — In English
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
During that time, Sion laid the groundwork for future business ventures to welcome adventurers—also known as players—by using Administrator Schwatt as his front to meet with influential figures of Burgos.
Of course, to do it properly, he’d have to stay at least half a month. But thanks to Schwatt—who was now completely on Sion’s side—things progressed quickly and smoothly.
Naturally, the biggest factor was the sheer amount of investment Sion poured in, an amount so large even Schwatt himself had been shocked by it.
For Sion, it was pocket change, but for the local elites of Burgos, it was a considerable windfall. And because Sion didn’t hesitate to spend such “pocket change,” everything moved rapidly.
Rather than wasting time arguing over a few coins, it was far more profitable for Sion to simply toss them some money like alms and get things done quickly.
On top of that, Sion focused only on establishing the broad framework, while the actual work was handled by members of the Information Guild—now virtually his personal hands and feet—led by Jena Olrot.
The rest was simply a matter of Jena’s appointed successor as the guild branch manager finishing up and sending regular progress reports.
And so, unlike seven years ago when he had first come here alone, Sion departed Burgos accompanied by four companions.
“Didn’t we get some kind of request from the Burgos branch recently?”
The man sitting at the large desk bore the shield insignia of the Information Guild—marked by a horse and a pigeon—and looked to be in his late forties. He raised his tired face from the pile of paperwork.
A man in his thirties holding a folder awaiting approval replied,
“Yes. It didn’t seem like a big deal, so I handled it at my discretion.”
“Yeah? What was it?”
“The branch manager in Burgos seemed to want to resign. They asked for a replacement to be assigned, so I just told them to handle it themselves.”
“The Burgos branch manager? Wait, who was that again?”
“Olrot.”
“Olrot? Gavril Olrot?”
“That was the former branch manager. The current one is his daughter, Jena Olrot.”
“Gavril’s dead? Since when?”
“It’s been a few years. Headquarters even sent a condolence payment.”
“Hmmm, I see. He was a pretty capable guy.”
The middle-aged man, Stan—one of the deputy guildmasters of the Information Guild—clicked his tongue in regret and continued,
“How’s the current branch manager? Any good? Why does she want to quit?”
“She’s average. She kept requesting a transfer, but when we kept rejecting it, I guess she decided to just resign.”
“A transfer request? How long has she been stationed there?”
“She’s been in Burgos about seven years. She took over as branch manager three years ago after her father’s death.”
“Hmmm. By that time, they usually approve transfers to other regions, don’t they?”
“She did follow her father around, but she became branch manager without much proof of her own abilities. If she transferred, her position would likely be adjusted downward, so I didn’t think she’d accept it.”
“Hmm. True, Gavril never stayed in one place for long.”
Stan nodded, then suddenly froze.
“Wait… why was he in Burgos for so long, then?”
He couldn’t remember exactly when he last saw him, but he was sure Gavril Olrot rarely stayed anywhere for more than a year. Gavril was constantly moving, sending in reports yearly.
Back then, Stan had been a field manager turned mid-level administrator at HQ, so he didn’t know exactly what Gavril was reporting.
Gavril had been a Scout—a special type of field agent with significant autonomy.
And the Scouts’ individual reports went straight to the Eight Elders, the ruling council at the top of the Guild.
Stan wasn’t part of that Eight yet—consisting of the Guildmaster, one deputy, and six elders. The council wasn’t convened often and had little real power, so he didn’t mind.
Still, the fact that someone like Gavril had stayed in one place so long was strange.
“This is odd…”
“Maybe it’s because of the Dragon’s Wasteland near Burgos?”
“If that were the reason, then we should have kept people stationed long-term at Eltis Island or the Northern Great Snow Mountains too. Don’t you know branch managers have a five-year term limit?”
“……”
Stan clicked his tongue at the other man’s silence.
“Personnel decisions must be fair. And if she’s Gavril Olrot’s daughter, she’s probably been doing Guild work since childhood. You can’t really say she lacks experience. If she has a preferred posting, send her there.”
“Yes, sir… We’ve already informed her. Once the new Burgos branch manager is appointed—”
“That’s separate. The branch doesn’t even have ten people, right? She’s been there seven years, so she’s probably picked someone competent. Let her choose the new manager herself and approve her transfer.”
“Yes, understood.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“Uh, yes. There was one separate attached report…”
“And?”
The deputy frowned as the man hesitated.
“It looked like a prank or drunken nonsense, so I discarded it.”
“…What?”
Stan’s expression hardened. He leaned back, put down his papers, and said quietly,
“Hey, Jens.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Since when does some lowly data officer get to decide which branch reports to discard?”
“…I’m sorry. But it really was absurd nonsense.”
He didn’t add: She probably wrote that out of spite because she was quitting anyway.
Though arrogant and cocky, Jens wasn’t stupid enough to directly anger his superior.
“Sigh… Fine, but what did it say that made you call it drunken nonsense?”
‘The whale changes dance partners and returns to the Dragon Palace.’
“What? What kind of cra—”
Stan almost said “crap” out loud but stopped when he saw Jens’s smug face. He coughed awkwardly.
“Ahem! That’s it?”
“Yes. Just that one line. So I threw it out.”
“Huh… seriously.”
Stan rubbed his chin, baffled.
The whale changes dance partners and returns to the Dragon Palace? What the hell…
“Wait.”
His eyes narrowed.
As a deputy guildmaster and former field manager with over ten years of intel work, he knew that Scouts sent coded messages straight to the Eight.
Gavril Olrot had been one of those Scouts.
“What if… it’s a code?”
“What? That can’t be. A normal branch manager can’t just use codes—”
“Are you stupid? Gavril Olrot—Jena Olrot’s father—was a Scout!”
“Whaaat?”
Jens blinked in shock. Stan almost laughed at how clueless he was, then remembered:
Scouts’ identities were Level-2 Guild secrets. You might know Scouts exist, but not who they are.
Jens was just one of about ten top-level intel officers, not yet senior enough to know such things.
“If Jena inherited her father’s post, it’s reasonable to assume she also inherited Scout status.”
“But how could that happen without your knowledge, sir?”
“When did I become deputy guildmaster, huh?”
“Uh… oh.”
Stan had only been promoted less than two years ago. Gavril had died before that.
He hadn’t even known Gavril was dead until just now.
“Damn it!”
Stan swore and shot to his feet.
“Follow me.”
“Eh? Where are we going?”
Stan bellowed,
“Where do you think? To the Guildmaster! We need to report the thing you threw out! What if that really was a Scout code, you idiot? Move it!”
Jens, who’d just been cursed at, didn’t dare protest. He stumbled after Stan, pale-faced.
“Um, Du— no, Sir Seilun?”
Among the group, only Jena knew Sion’s true identity, so she barely managed to switch from “Your Grace” to the title “Sir” before speaking carefully.
“Yes, what is it?”
Riding close to Sion’s black stallion so no one else could hear, she whispered,
“I… I’m terribly sorry, but I never fully learned my father’s code system.”
“I see. Well, Gavril died suddenly, so that makes sense. So?”
“Well, um, you planned to stop by Auguste territory first, right? I’m not sure how to phrase that in the report… I’m truly sorry.”
“That’s fine. Let’s see… Auguste, huh.”
Having lived a long life and worked with multiple personal informants, Sion was quite familiar with the Guild’s code system.
Once upon a time, his code name as the Sixth Lion had been changed to “Whale” after some top Guild officials discovered his immortality.
Because of that, the Sion Duchy was referred to as “the Dragon Palace”—the whale’s home—in code.
“If you say ‘the whale will rest for a while under the olive tree,’ that should work.”
“Under the olive tree…?”
“Yes. Olive oil is Auguste’s specialty. Though, of course, our olives are more famous.”
“Oh, yes. Understood.”
“Good. If you’re confused or unsure, just ask me. Anything else you want to ask?”
Sion showed unexpected kindness toward someone who was now essentially a loyal subordinate—a valuable human resource.
“Yes, if I may… I sent two reports to HQ: one about the branch manager change and one about you, Sir Seilun. But the only reply I got was ‘handle it yourself.’ Is that normal?”
“Well… I didn’t read every report during your father’s time either. But if they said to handle it yourself, just do so.”
“I thought so, but… this concerns you, Sir Seilun.”
“Yeah, well, that happens.”
Relieved by his answer, Jena relaxed.
When it came to importance, the man beside her outranked any king or noble in the world—including the current King of Obla.
The Guild’s top brass likely wouldn’t dare interfere, leaving the matter entirely to her discretion as the local agent.
It really does pay to back the right person. It’s tough work, but with this, I’ll definitely become a high-ranking HQ officer one day. Heh, I’d love to see Jens’s face right now.
She could just imagine that pompous Jens, who’d rejected all her transfer requests, gritting his teeth as he stamped the approval on this order. The thought washed away her fatigue.
But Jena didn’t know.
The report she’d sent had Jens not seething with jealousy, but terrified—to the point he might lose his limbs—because of the code line he had discarded.
(To be continued…)
