Chapter 4: Terrorism Always Happens on the Academy Enrollment Train (2)
When the orphanage children ask why the United Kingdoms are called the United Kingdoms, Ivan tends to tell them to look at a railway map.
This vast rail network, which hauled military supplies during the war against the Demon King, functioned as a blood vessel connecting not only city to city but nation to nation.
Metal beasts that cover in a mere three or four days the long distances a carriage would have to travel more than ten days without rest. The true protagonists of the last war.
“Who arrives first?”
“Droan’s Einar, senior. They say Princess Esidis is scheduled to depart first!”
“It’s still January.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Who travels all the way to a foreign land 2 whole months early and waits around for the first day of term? A royal, no less! Talk about an imposition.”
The fellow spoke with a sly grin.
“It seems Princess Esidis had a rough time of it emotionally. Back home! Those Droan bumpkins do tend to think playing an instrument is laughable.”
“……Instrument……?”
“Ah, did I not mention that? Princess Esidis applied to the College of Music. Orchestral Department, majoring in violin, apparently? Isn’t that really something? A blood relative of that Great King Einar, a violinist.”
Ivan faltered for a moment when he heard that.
The Einar he remembered—that is, before he became Great King, the Einar who had been a member of the Hero’s Party—was a madman who carried two axes and collected orc heads in the morning and Taurus heads in the evening.
Kwahaha, listen here, “little” Ivan! This is how you swing an axe!!
Don’t daughters usually take after their fathers……?
No, no, that’s not right.
It had been years now, but the image of Esidis that faintly surfaced was of a frail little girl. One who was terribly fond of her father.
There was, in truth, almost nothing about her that resembled him. Fortunately for everyone.
In any case, the strongest music student in history is about to be born. Ivan left it at that brief observation.
Esidis hadn’t inherited her father’s looks or temperament, but her axe work was the spitting image of his.
“Anyway, senior, is that intelligence certain? You’re saying they’re really going to carry out a train attack?”
“Yes.”
“By whom? I mean, well…… if you ask me who, there are far too many candidates that come to mind, but…… still, this is Great King Einar’s daughter. If they’re caught they’ll be given the Blood Eagle.”
The Blood Eagle is the folk pastime most favored by the citizens of Droan. Roughly speaking, one may regard it as holding the same standing as holiday yut games or Dano swing contests. (At least in the sense that a great many people gather to watch, they’re similar.)
The details are too gruesome to describe to the citizens of the civilized society of the Kingdom of Krasilov.
“If you trace the shortest direct route from Droan to St. Yansk University, it’s here.”
Ivan ignored the fellow’s words and drew a line along one solid stroke on the map.
The 12th Transport Line.
One of the trade transport routes running from the Kingdom of Krasilov to the Kingdom of Droan.
“And my guess is here—Igorovich Station. This vicinity is the most likely.”
“How can you be so sure……? Terrorists aren’t going to announce the location in advance, are they? “
“Senior, did you plant someone?”
“Because they’ll set it off at the border.”
Who would carry out the attack, he didn’t know. He couldn’t even guess.
That was owed to being retired from the front line and having no connection to the intelligence agencies.
But conjecture was possible.
Take the occurrence of the attack itself as a given—
—and then all that remained was to fill in the “why,” the “who,” and the “how,” one by one.
“The target of the attack would be Princess Esidis.”
“That, uh…… if an attack really happens, then yes?”
“And why would that be?”
“……Pardon?”
Obviously, to manufacture a point of contention between Krasilov and Droan.
That much was self-evident.
“In that case, no attack will occur south of the Droan border. To shift responsibility onto the Kingdom of Krasilov, they’d have to carry it out inside our borders regardless.”
“Uh…… uh, yes. I suppose so?”
“But past Igorovich Station, this line passes through a total of 3 military districts.”
However vulnerable trains may be to terrorism, that doesn’t hold within a military zone.
It wasn’t that every stretch of the line was surrounded by military zones, but it did pass straight through at least 3 encampments.
This was, fundamentally, a trace of the railway itself having been designed for military supply purposes.
“And it’s a matter of course that security tightens the closer one gets to the capital. In that case, the most vulnerable point is Igorovich Station.”
“Ohh……. Yes, that’s true?”
“Princess Esidis’s scheduled departure time?”
“The 12 o’clock train, 2 days from now.”
“Then she’ll arrive around 10 in the morning 4 days from now. If I depart now, the timing will be just right.”
Ivan folded the map and nodded.
His junior, who had been staring blankly at his face for a moment, snorted and said:
“Do you really have something? It doesn’t seem like you received a divine oracle, and I never heard even in your active-duty days that you could make prophecies. I could arrange to dispatch agents for terrorism suppression, but I need evidence before I can even try to persuade the higher-ups.”
“Shall we bet on it, then?” “……A bet?” “Without field support. Let’s just look at the result.”
Ivan snorted and glanced back at his junior.
There was no way he had evidence. There couldn’t be an informant either. But the attack would happen. It was “common sense.”
He had neither the time nor the inclination to persuade anyone on this matter. There would be several more instances of this sort of “common sense” going forward—how could he possibly argue his case every single time?
So Ivan resolved to cut it off at the first button. On top of that, he was confident.
If no attack occurred, he’d asked for no support in the first place, so the burden was light.
If an attack did occur, his words would from then on carry serious persuasive weight. He’d have rescued the Viking’s daughter, after all.
Furthermore, the Viking Einar surely wouldn’t have sent his most cherished daughter off alone. Naturally there would be attendants with her.
But if the attack occurring is a given, it means these people are certain they can handle every last one of Esidis’s attendants.
Nothing to lose, and much to gain.
It was even an opportunity for Ivan to verify whether his “academy formula” held true. If this and a few other tests failed, well—it might not be an academy story after all.
“Seems like you’re really confident. Well, fine. I’ll keep my hands off for now.”
Ivan didn’t bother replying. It was only natural not to believe him.
Ordinarily, an anti-government organization in its right mind does not carry out attacks on civilian transport railways.
A train attack inevitably burns through enormous human resources. From the instant the incident breaks, you lose every associated party—HUMINT built up over years or decades of hardship.
What you lose from blowing up a mere civilian railway overwhelmingly outweighs what you gain.
That holds true even if the objective is assassinating Great King Einar’s precious eldest daughter.
Unlike killing her while she’s residing within the country, an incident occurring aboard a train leaves responsibility somewhat murky. Which is to say, diplomatic relations might chill, but it would be difficult for it to expand into anything beyond a dispute.
Carrying out an attack for a goal of merely that scale and needlessly raising the enemy’s guard is nothing but a poor stratagem. Accordingly, the Krasilov royal house does not invest anything beyond minimal security.
That is the “common sense” of the people of this other world. Rational inference and judgment.
But Ivan’s “common sense” was different. Because this was a formula.
These peaceful 4 years, in which grim events like terrorism and armed disputes vanished along with the Demon King.
It was not strange that Ivan was the only one capable of anticipating something like a train attack.
Even with a foreign princess entering the country, the extent of it would be preparing a formal reception at the capital’s station.
“I’ll have to do this 3 more times.”
Ivan let out a deep sigh and descended to the train platform. Excluding the Saintess, there were 4 members of the Hero’s Party’s brood departing from abroad.
If terrorism happened on the academy “enrollment train,” he’d have to protect all 5 of those enrollment train routes.
Dreary other world, honestly.
Ivan pressed hard between his brows as he boarded the train.
***
When Ivan boarded the train and left for the vicinity of the border, his junior dutifully headed for the royal court to report to his superior.
“Your Highness. Your subject Dmitri Cherkatov has entered the palace.”
“At court, it is Minister of the Royal Household.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Ornate inner walls of carved, gilded solid timber.
An office absurdly spacious for the use of a single person.
In the office belonging to Princess Elizaveta Kirillovna Krasilov—Iron-Blooded Liza—stood an enormous ebony desk inlaid in relief with marble and ivory.
Beyond the desk, strewn haphazardly with countless documents, a woman was working a pen with indifference.
“Report.”
“Sir Petrovich has departed.”
“Not what I already know.”
“He suspects a train attack. With the date and location rather precisely specified.”
Hearing that, Elizaveta stopped her quill.
“Does Vanka have an informant?”
“No. Over the past 4 years, there has been no such indication whatsoever.”
An intelligence organization is, in the end, human resources. And all human resources are components that require steady management and appropriate greasing without exception.
Which meant that pinpointing an “unidentified anti-government organization” out of nowhere, on a mission taken up with no support and no management, was impossible.
So his actions were all mere conjecture—and yet from him one sensed a certain kind of certainty.
Just as when he departed on his final mission 4 years ago.
Just as he now insisted, without a shred of evidence, that an attack occurring was common sense.
Had anyone other than Ivan made such a claim, Elizaveta would have appraised them as a “madman” without a moment’s deliberation.
“We’ll know about this intelligence in due course, but at the very least Sir Petrovich is still active duty, Your Excellency. His edge hasn’t dulled in the slightest.”
The reliability of the intelligence was a secondary matter. Ivan had gone alone without even requesting support, so even if the intelligence proved wrong there would be no loss at all.
Dmitri trembled slightly as he recalled something more important than that. It was from when he first went to meet Ivan.
Killing one’s presence naturally, without conscious thought—well, that’s basic literacy for the Annihilation Corps.
But precisely pinpointing the position and height of an unseen opponent beyond a closed door—
—and then deliberately revealing his own presence, stepping off the line of fire, and lowering his body to prepare a counterattack: that was a state of training difficult to find even among active-duty agents.
The thick premonition and dry killing intent he’d felt the instant the doorknob turned.
Raising his voice in that moment to announce his position to Ivan had been like instinct. Had he kept his mouth shut, an axe blade might have come flying in the very next instant.
“Hoo, hoo hoo.”
A small laugh came from beyond the table.
To Dmitri’s memory, it was the first pleasant laugh he’d heard from her in 3 years.
“Your Excellency……?”
“Assign someone to him. Record Vanka’s every move, down to the most trivial action, and bring it to me. As an urgent—most urgent—report, so I can check it at any time.”
“If…… if you miss him that much, wouldn’t it be better to simply pay a visit yourself……?”
“Had I intended that, I wouldn’t have merely watched for 4 years.”
Elizaveta snorted and set her quill moving again.
“It is right to reunite at a better moment, at more perfect timing.”
“Ah, yes…….”
“Enough idle chatter—go and do more to protect the country. Are you at leisure?”
“……Yes, Your Excellency. Your subject Dmitri Cherkatov shall withdraw from court.”
Dmitri wore a sour expression as he stepped back and departed.
Really, is receiving reports on someone’s every last move an aboveboard and romantic thing to do?
Hoping that at least his own lover never entertained such notions, Dmitri hurried out of the Eastern Palace.
***
When the agents Dmitri dispatched arrived at Igorovich Station, they were handed 3 neatly wrapped body bags.
At an incident scene meticulously scrubbed down to the last bloodstain, there was no trace of Ivan Petrovich to be found.
At that moment, Ivan was gripping an axe and running through the forest.
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