Chapter 35: Black Crows and White Crows

Monica Buendia.

That was the name of the maid who'd assassinated Prince Abel in the previous timeline. As the prince had had a reputation for being an extraordinary playboy, many figured it was a crime of passion, but the details of the incident were never made clear and would ultimately be lost to history.

Let us swim back up the time stream to the day after Mia had fallen into the river.

Monica walked down a hallway in the royal castle of Remno. Eventually, she stopped in front of a government official's office and rapped on the door with a particular rhythm. A few seconds later, the door swung open soundlessly.

"Master Graham."

"Ah, it's you, Monica..."

The man gestured for her to come inside, making no attempt to hide his dark mood. Monica had always thought he had a crabby sort of face, but today it was even crabbier than usual.

"Freaking Diamond Legion..." muttered Graham. "What the hell is the matter with them? Why haven't they done anything yet? That blasted Great Sage... Don't tell me this is her doing again..."

He spoke with the paranoid tone of a full-blown conspiracy nut. After grumbling to himself for a little longer, he finally looked up at Monica.

"And? What do you want?"

"I received this this morning."

She held out her hand to reveal a small piece of folded papyrus.

Graham yanked it out of her hand with a scowl and opened it up.

"Princess Mia and Prince Sion... Augh, damn it, they're..."

He grimaced after reading it and huffed out a frustrated breath before handing Monica another piece of papyrus.

"Send this back home."

"Right away."

She took it and began parsing its contents. Her job was to take encrypted messages and transcribe them into code for messenger birds. However, after she finished reading Graham's letter, she frowned.

"Excuse me, but are you sure this is right?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is false information that will drag our homeland into a war. Is it really all right for me to send this?"

"Hmph. What a fitting concern for you Black Crows. Keep roaming the shadows like the snoops you are, content to simply observe. Unlike you, however, I am a White Crow, and I must act. Whereas your job ends with information, mine starts with it. I must use it — weaponize it — for the glory of our homeland. Information warfare is our raison d'etre, and we White Crows are the vanguard."

Monica kept her eyes on the letter but bit hard into her lip.

The Wind Crows was the intelligence unit of the Kingdom of Sunkland. Established many generations ago by a past king, its primary mission was to send undercover agents into surrounding nations and ensure information flowed back to the homeland. The intelligence they provided was vital in informing Sunkland's diplomatic and military decisions. Throughout most of its history it had operated in secret, collecting information and reporting back. It could, therefore, be argued that the Wind Crows was a passive organization.

Change came in the form of a man named Jem, who advocated for a more aggressive approach to intelligence that would lay the groundwork for an expansionist project. No longer would they simply bring back the information. They would make active use of it to weaken other kingdoms, sow discord among their people, and expand Sunkland's borders under the name of justice. In order to carry out this project, a special team was formed within the Wind Crows and given the name "White Crows." They were the ivory messengers that would herald the righteous glory of Sunkland throughout the continent.

"I trust you understand that the work of us White Crows is of the utmost importance. Our mission is to be prioritized above all else."

"...Yes, I understand." Monica nodded, but it didn't make the acknowledgment any easier to swallow.

After leaving Graham's office, Monica let out a soft sigh.

What am I even doing...

She was a Sunkland native, and she felt a great deal of pride in her motherland. The stalwart dedication of its royalty to justice and fairness, and the constant vigilance of its government against fraud and corruption made her glad to call the kingdom home. To her, Sunkland was a beacon of glory and virtue.

And yet, the things that we're doing... These deeds... Aren't they stains on Sunkland's good name?

Tendrils of doubt began to envelop her heart, and her breath quickened. Just as the panic was about to set in, someone rammed into her, sending both her and her documents flying. She landed hard on her knees and realized with shock that the critical piece of papyrus was lying on the ground in plain sight. The content was encrypted, but it was still unwise to expose it to uncertified eyes. She rushed to recover it, but just as she reached her hand toward the page, a boot came down on it with a thud.

"Ah—"

She looked up to find a set of teeth set in a leering smile. It belonged to a middle-aged official.

"Move, woman. Don't just sit there. You're in the way," the man said disdainfully.

Monica's mission was to gather information as a royal maid. In Remno, women were looked down on, and the lips of senior officials could be shockingly loose around them. Presumably, they assumed women simply didn't have the capacity to grasp the significance of anything they heard. Therefore, this disdain... this demeaning contempt she suffered was ultimately to her advantage. She should be glad to be treated this way.

Alas, the mind can't hide from what the heart does know. To suffer in the line of duty... was still to suffer. Every such encounter chipped away at her soul. More and more, she found herself assaulted by waves of bitter disgust whenever she witnessed her fellow maids being subjected to denigration by men. At times, she could barely keep herself from retching.

This wretched kingdom... maybe it is justice for it to get wiped out.

Even if a river of blood had to be spilt, wouldn't it be worth it to trade this deep injustice for a more righteous future under Sunkland's rule? The thought creeped out of the darkest part of her heart and invaded her mind. Just as it was about to take root, however, a boy's voice rang in her ear.

"Pick. Those. Up."

A trace of youthful soprano yet lingered in its timbre, but its steady tone bespoke an unfaltering will. She spun around.

"Did I not make myself clear? I said pick those up. And apologize to her," commanded Abel Remno, Second Prince of the kingdom that bore his name.