Ep4 - 30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

To the students who often questioned why the United Kingdom was called a 'Union' Kingdom, Ivan typically directed them to observe the railway map. This vast railroad network, which had transported military supplies during the war against the Demon King, functioned as a vital artery connecting not just cities but entire nations. The metallic beasts that traversed distances, which once required over ten days of non-stop travel by carriage, in just three or four days were the true protagonists of the previous war. "Who's supposed to arrive first?" "Droan's Eynar, senior. Princess Eshidis is expected to depart first!" "But it's still January?" "Exactly. Who comes to a foreign land two months early just to wait for the start of the term? Especially when they're royalty! It's really inconsiderate." The fellow chuckled slyly as he spoke. "Seems Princess Eshidis has been through quite a bit. Back in her hometown! The rural folks of Droan tend to look down on musical instruments." "...Instruments?" "Oh, did I not mention it? Princess Eshidis applied to the music department. She's majoring in violin under the orchestral division. Isn't that impressive? 'He,' King Eynar’s descendant, aiming to be a violinist." Ivan paused momentarily upon hearing that. The Eynar he remembered, before becoming a king, was a member of the hero party wielding two axes, collecting orc heads by morning and taurus heads by evening—a madman. -Hahaha, listen 'little' Ivan! This is how you wield an axe!! Normally, wouldn’t a daughter resemble her father…? No, that can't be. Even though it was years ago, Ivan faintly recalled Eshidis’s image—a delicate little girl, who adored her father. In truth, they didn't have much in common. Fortunately for everyone involved. In any case, a most formidable music student was about to emerge. Ivan noted briefly. Eshidis might not have inherited her father’s looks or temperament, but she certainly was a spitting image when it came to handling an axe. "By the way, senior, are you sure about that information? There’s really going to be a train terror attack?" "Yes." "By whom? I mean… there're too many suspects if you ask, but still... she's King Eynar’s daughter. If caught, they’ll face the Blood Eagle." The Blood Eagle is a traditional pastime favored by Droan citizens. It's comparable in stature to holiday yut games or Dano swing games. (At least considering how many gather to watch.) The details are too gruesome to explain to the civilized citizens of the Krasilov Kingdom. "From Droan to Yansk University, following the shortest route, here." Ivan ignored the fellow’s words and traced a line on the map. Route 12. One of the trade routes connecting the Krasilov Kingdom to the Droan Kingdom. "And predictably, this place, Igorvich Station. It seems the most likely." "How can you be so sure...? People don’t announce where they'll commit terrorism, right? Senior, did you plant anyone?" "Well, because they'd want to blow it up at the border." He didn't know who would carry out the terror. It was unpredictable. He had stepped down from the front lines and had no connections with intelligence agencies. Yet, speculation was possible. Assuming the occurrence of terrorism itself as a constant, the only thing left was to piece together the 'why,' 'who,' and 'how' one by one. "The purpose of the terror would be Princess Eshidis, surely." "If real terrorism does occur, then yes?" "And why?" "...Pardon?" Naturally, it would be to create a dispute between Krasilov and Droan. That much is expected. "If so, a terror attack won't happen south of the Droan border. To blame the Krasilov Kingdom, they’d have to ensure it occurs within our borders." "Uh... yes. That makes sense, I suppose?" "But this route passes through three military zones after Igorvich Station." Though a train might be vulnerable to terror, not within military zones. Not every route is surrounded by military areas, but it at least traverses three military camps. This was evidence that the railroads were basically designed for military purposes. "And naturally, security grows tighter the closer you get to the capital. Hence, Igorvich Station is the most vulnerable point." "Oh… yes, indeed?" "When is Princess Eshidis scheduled to depart?" "The train leaves in two days at noon." "Then she'll arrive around 10 AM two days later. Fits perfectly if we start now." Ivan folded the map and nodded. His fellow student, who had been blankly staring at him for a moment, laughed quietly. "Is there really something going on? It doesn't seem like you received any prophecy, and I've never heard of you doing predictions back in your active days. I can arrange agents for terror suppression, but I'd need evidence to convince my superiors." "How about a bet?" "A bet?" "Without any field support. Just the result." Ivan smirked as he looked back at his fellow student. There couldn’t be any evidence. There'd be no informants. But the terror would happen. Because it was 'common sense'. Ivan neither had the time nor the inclination to persuade anyone on this matter. Considering that such 'common sense' might arise a few more times in the future, it was impractical to attempt persuasion each time. Thus, Ivan decided to cut to the chase right from the outset. He was confident as well. If no terror occurred, there was no burden since he hadn't initially requested support. If terror did occur, his words would from then on carry serious persuasive power. He would have essentially saved the daughter of Hiking Einar. Moreover, Hiking Einar would never have sent his most cherished daughter alone. Naturally, there would be an escort accompanying her. 'But if the occurrence of terror is a constant, it means the perpetrators are confident in dealing with all of Eshidis's escort.' There was much to gain and little to lose. This was also a chance for Ivan to verify whether his "academy formula" would prove accurate. Should he fail a few of these tests, then perhaps it wasn’t an academy setting after all. "You really seem confident. Well, fine. I'll step aside for now." Ivan didn’t bother responding. It was only natural not to believe. Normally, no rational anti-government group targets civilian railroads for terrorism. A train terror attack consumes vast human resources. From the moment an incident occurs, they risk losing all the HUMINT painstakingly built over years or even decades. They stand to lose far more than they'd gain from disrupting a mere civilian railway. Even when the target might be the assassination of King Einar's beloved eldest daughter. Unlike an assassination on domestic soil, events occurring on a train leave room for ambiguity concerning responsibility. Thus, while it might cool diplomatic relations, the likelihood of escalating beyond a dispute is low. Launching a terror attack for such a modest objective only heightens vigilance, which would be shortsighted. Therefore, the Krasilov Royal Family invests no more than minimal security. That’s the 'common sense' of those in this otherworld. It’s a logical deduction. However, Ivan’s 'common sense' was different. This was a formula. In the peaceful four years since such disturbing incidents as terrorism or disputes vanished alongside the Demon King, Ivan being the only one able to foresee train terrorism wasn't surprising. If a foreign princess were to enter the country, preparations at the central station for ceremonies would be the extent of it. "I’ll have to do this three more times." Ivan sighed deeply as he descended onto the platform. Aside from the holy maiden, there were four other members of the hero party departing from abroad. If terrorism occurred on the 'academy admission train,' he had to oversee all five of their admission train routes. This accursed otherworld. Ivan boarded the train, pressing his temples. * As Ivan departed towards the border by train, his junior made his way to the court for earnest reporting. "Your Highness, Dmitry Cherkatov reports in." "In the court, it’s Minister of the Interior." "Yes, Your Grace." Luxuriously carved and gilt wood paneling adorned the walls. An office ridiculously spacious for just one person. In the office of Princess Elizabeth Kirillovna Krasilov, known as the Ironblood Riza, a large ebony desk intricately carved with marble and ivory stood. Beyond the strewn papers, a woman casually wielded a pen. "Proceed with the report." "Count Petrovich has departed." "Something I already know." "He suspects train terrorism. Quite specific with time and place." Upon hearing this, Elizabeth paused her quill. "Does Ivan have an informant?" "No, there's been no indication over the past four years." An intelligence organization, in essence, revolves around human resources. Every resource needs consistent management and proper incentivization. Thus, identifying an 'unnamed anti-government group' without any support or management is impossible. Even so, there was a sense of 'certainty' about him, despite his actions being speculative. Just as when he left for his last mission four years ago. Claiming terrorism as common sense without evidence. Had anyone else but Ivan made such claims, Elizabeth would have dismissed them outright as 'insanity.' "Whether this intelligence is accurate will soon reveal itself, but at least Count Petrovich remains active, Your Grace. His spirit is far from diminished." The reliability of the information was secondary. Ivan had embarked without requesting aid, so even if the information was flawed, there would be no loss. Dmitry shivered slightly, recalling something more significant—the first time he went to meet Ivan. Unconsciously and effortlessly masking his presence was a fundamental skill, especially for those in extenuation units. However, identifying the exact location and height of an unseen opponent behind a closed door… Revealing his presence instead and crouching away from the line of fire while preparing a counterattack was a level of readiness rarely seen even among active agents. In the moment he turned the doorknob, a profound sense of foreboding and a dry, lethal air could be sensed. It was instinctive for him to raise his voice and announce his position to Ivan—a split-second hesitation might have resulted in an axe blade flying at him next. "Heh, hehehe." A soft chuckle came from behind the table. For Dmitry, it was a pleasant laugh he hadn't heard for three years. "Your Grace…?" "Assign someone to follow him. Record Ivan’s every move, every trivial action. Keep the reports urgent, so I can review them anytime." "If you’re that eager to keep an eye on him, why not go see him personally?" "If I were going to do that, I wouldn’t have waited for four years." Elizabeth stifled a laugh and resumed her writing with her quill. "It’s best to reunite at a better moment, a perfect timing." "Ah, yes..." "Spare me the idle talk and go protect the kingdom. Do you have so much free time?" "Yes, Your Grace. I, Dmitry Cherkatov, take my leave." Dmitry retreated, looking somewhat skeptical. Having every single detail reported—what’s admirable or romantic about that? Hoping that his lover wouldn’t have such notions, Dmitry hurriedly exited the royal court. * By the time Dmitry's agents reached Igorvich Station, they were handed three neatly wrapped body bags. The crime scene was so meticulously cleaned of any trace of blood that no sign of Ivan Petrovich could be found. At that point, Ivan was running through the woods with an axe in his hand. * Author's Note: That day, Igorvich Station received three skulls. (In a literal sense) The Blood Eagle is an exciting Viking tradition. If you're hearing about it for the first time, proceed with caution when Googling.