The purpose of a secret police is ironic in a certain sense, as it is not to be secret whatsoever. That is the central mantra of the Special Imperial Service and it is the main philosophy I go by. Everyone has to know to of the SIS, everyone has to be aware of its reputation, it must be at arm’s reach everywhere, all the time. There is no location in Epa without the SIS, where it not for the surface war, it would already be operating in Imperial Arika.

But first, I shall indulge in history. There was a time when kings and queens in Epa used assassins for their dirty work. The system was smooth and efficient and none could point a finger, although when parties of rebels dropped dead after drinking poisoned wine, when a rogue noble got into hunting accidents, when a particularly troublesome member of the family had a bad fall, everyone knew where to point. Some rulers, those most notorious for their use of the blade in the dark, may have been grand, but they were besmirched in history for overreliance on such dishonesty.

A ruler needs to be legitimate. How this legitimacy is acquired, whether through force or through love, whether by birthright or by coup, is unimportant. The simple fact of the matter is that legitimacy is not a set figure that exists at a constant level through life. It is maintained. Through love or through fear. The greatest advancement my father has made in this regard is that he discarded both. The legitimacy is maintained not through such abstractions, but through efficiency. The “Empire-Project”, as Helenna so likes to call it, works because it is successful. It does not call for love of itself, it does not inspire fear in its subjects, it proves itself through trial after trial.

And through that efficiency, it maintains its legitimacy. Even our greatest critics in the UNN and the White Pantheon can point fingers at abstractions or at tragedies utterly irrelevant to the Imperial population at large. The Empire does not need to be good, it does not need to be evil, it simply needs to work everywhere, anywhere, all the time, all at once. And it does.

The SIS is built on this mentality. What secret operations they do will be kept off the books, but the simple fact of the matter is that I will aim for a ratio of nine completely open and known operations for each one we keep off the books. The SIS can be referred to as the Special Imperial Slime, for that it was it shall be effectively. An amorphous blob, its edges invisible and indistinct. A slime that permeates every crack in our society. That is the image that needs to be expressed.

Helenna wishes to make films based off them. The idea is excellent. We do not hide our secret police. We celebrate it.

– Excerpt from “On the Formation of Imperial Slime”, written by Goddess Malam, of Hatred. This document was shown to Arascus when the SIS went from a paramilitary behold to Malam and became a proper department of government instead.

Anton looked at the farmhouse in the distance as Miklas pulled up the black SIS car before the door. They were in North-western Rancais, the region wasn’t destitute, far from it in fact. The roads were smooth, there were marks of new high-speed internet cables being installed, although the mass conscription brought on by Tartarus’ invasion had stalled construction. That was the tale of most of Rancais. The new cities with the new builds were booming, but the country had taken a beating after the Anarchia Crisis. And in these far reaches, a full hour’s drive from the closest town, practically the ass-end of nowhere by Epan standards, it meant that Imperial reconstruction efforts had come to a stop.

The farmhouse was huge, with three rows of windows, and then more in the roof. There was a barn by the side, the benefits of the Empire stretched here too. Two of the tractors were old and ramshackle, if clean, the other was a modern one that was probably built this year. Fields swayed in the distance, autumn had fully set. They had been ploughed but the ground was grey, waiting for the snows to come. A trio of large dogs, each with drooping mouths came out from behind the house. A pair of young boys were sitting on the front steps talking with each other although they had fallen silent. One of them, the biggest, lay down before the boys as if to separate them from the intruder. “Fucking hell.” Anton said. “Do you think their safe.”

“Stick your hand out and find out.” Miklas replied from the driver’s seat. He turned the car off. One of the boys ran back into the house.

Lukas handed Anton a small briefcase from the back. “Here, it’s set.” Anton took it and looked at the lock. “DON’T!” Lukas grabbed his shoulder. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT! IT’S BARELY HOLDING!”

“Alright alright!” Lukas shouted back as Miklas sighed. They had a basic plan received straight from the boss, the boss’s boss actually. Malam had personally rang them as they were in the area and had dealt with these issues before. This farm was one of the holdings were a succubi had been identified. Her bloodwork had revealed inhuman cells. The doctor had already been met with, a month ago. He knew not to spill and not to request more tests from her. Internal Affairs and BARC did not know, although they didn’t have to be told. The less people that knew, the better frankly.

Most of the succubi that had been found were killed. Those that BARC randomly allocated to sectors of low priority were allowed to go on. There was a limit of course. Twenty-one had been the cut off point. Low enough to be manageable, but not such a specific number as five, or ten, or twenty, which would give caution to Tartarus and make them think that the Empire knew. Every month, two or three would be allowed to get through the system. Everyone month, two or three would be ‘found’ and dealt with.

Why?

Lukas had never asked until now. He just got the orders and he followed them. But now? Well, now he could only sit and stare at the genius of the system. A spy they had totally sequestered away from areas of interest, a spy that was practically worthless in acquiring information save for being able to inform Tartarus of the public news. A spy they could feed information. “Fuck this.” Miklas rolled his window down. Immediately, the ears on those dogs stood up. “Hey! Do those bite?!” He shouted to the boy from a distance.

“I don’t know! Are you a bad man?!” The boy replied.

“I’m SIS!” Miklas replied and the boy’s eyes went wide.

“I’ll get my dad!” He shouted and ran back in after his brother. The three SIS waited for a moment. Anton handed out cigarettes. They finished half the smokes before the father emerged. Middle aged, maybe closer to his fifties than his forties. He had obviously received clerical healing. A farmer’s tan like that felt out of place on a skin so smooth.

He shooed the dogs away and waved for the men over. “Couldn’t even let us finish.” Anton said. He put his cigarette out and left it leaning in the cupholder for later. Miklas did the same. Lukas finished his in one long drag and coughed. “I’m not giving you another.”

“I have my own.”

“Come! Come!” The farmer shouted, he was wearing shorts and a blue shirt with buttons, the sleeves rolled up. Anton eyed him up instinctively, he looked strong definitely. But he didn’t look like a killer. The dogs sat at the edge of the house.

“Who first?” Miklas asked.

“Are you scared of the dogs?” Lukas asked from behind.

“I’d be fucking stupid if I wasn’t.” Miklas said, eyeing the three beasts. Each one was so tall that it reached above their knees and the fact they weren’t barking made the situation even worse. Small annoying stupid little fucking dogs barked because they had something to prove. Monsters like that? They just sat and waited silently. Anton sighed and took the hit. He opened the door and took a step out, eyes on the three dogs.

“They’re safe! They’re safe!” The farmer shouted as he came close. “My son said you’re SIS.” From the door, an older woman was already looking through. A little girl was underneath her. Then a pretty woman. Far too pretty for this area. Anton had seen enough succubi by this point to recognise the fatal mistake of perfection.

“We are.” Anton dug his hand into his pocket and took out his wallet. It fell open to reveal his badge. “On terrible, terrible duty.” He said.

“Terrible?” The man asked.

So the show began.

Miklas stepped out. Lukas opened the window. “I’ll stay in the back.” He shouted then rolled the window back up. Anton turned around and gave him the finger. Miklas cursed and rolled his eyes. The farmer just stared, utterly baffled, at the unprofessionalism of it.

“Apologies for my lazy partner.” Anton said. “We won’t be long, this isn’t an SIS job, we’re just here to fill in.”

“Excuse me?” The farmer said.

“We’re here for a checkup on your girl from Ibya.” Anton said as Miklas got back in the driver’s seat.

“Hey idiot!” He shouted from inside. “You forgot this.” The suitcase was passed over. Anton took it and sighed. The movement was rehearsed and careful. This block of leather, as sturdy as it looked, was held together by a series of strings and nothing else. “I’ll wait inside!” Miklas shouted and Anton audibly sighed again. He turned to the farmer.

“Apologies.” Anton said. “May I come in to see the girl. She’s…” He trailed off and then started digging into his pocket. He knew the succubi’s name already, she was going by Jani Azya. Another name that sounded Ibyan enough, but was obviously from an ancient time. He stared at the paper. “Janee? Jaynee? How do you say it?”

The farmer’s tension went out of his body. “Of course Sir.” He said with the usual deference civilians had to the SIS. “Jani. Come, I’ll show you her.”

“Thank you.” Anton said and walked besides the farmer. “It’s a nice place you have here.”

“Thank you.” The farmer said. “We’ve always been working this land. I know there’s new schools in the city. My son has been thinking of going in but…” He trailed off.

“Do not worry my good man.” Anton said. “I understand, there’s a war going on.”

“There is a war going on.” The farmer said. “My wife doesn’t like her.”

“Why not?”

“Too pretty.” His voice turned into a whisper as he came in. “I…” The farmer kicked off his own boots. Anton looked down at his black shoes. From the corner of his eye, he saw the entire house congregate around the various doors of the corridor to pretend not to be curious. The farmer’s wife, in a blue dress, was stood with an apron in the kitchen. A young girl, no older than six or seven was by her side. The two young boys were peeking over the couch. A teenage boy who was sitting by the kitchen and working with a screwdriver over some contraption was far too interested in it to not be listening. And at the top of the stairs, there was a woman.

Some men would say it was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen, tanned, in a shirt and shorts and with large brown eyes. With a face symmetrical and gifted in all the right areas. But Anton saw demonesses like this on a semi-daily basis. She reeked of perfection. The SIS agent sighed again and bent down to unlace his boots, being careful with the suitcase. “Understood.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m SIS!” Anton shouted to everyone in the house, since everyone was obviously listening. “But we’re filling in today! For BARC! Do you know them?”

“They send an inspector round every month.” The farmer said.

“Alright.” Anton said. “We don’t know how things are handled with them. We handle things differently. There’s a form. It needs to be checked off.” He knew exactly how BARC handled things. They sent someone in to run a full inspection with the family, the meeting could last upwards of an hour. Thankfully though, the SIS had a reputation for being fast. He looked around at everyone, and then his eyes finally settled on Jani at the top of the stairs. “I assume it’s you?” He said. Her large brown eyes went wide and she gave a nod as Anton got his second shoe off. Before anyone could answer or stop him, he was already going up the stairs. “Alright, where do you stay? Apparently it needs to be private?”

Jani’s eyes went to the pistol on his belt, then to him, then to the pistol again. “This one? That one?” Anton asked as he picked out doors.

“Here.” Jani said quietly. “Are you really SIS?”

“I am.” Anton pulled out his wallet and showed off his badge. She was getting too scared, no doubt she knew that it was the SIS which picked off her fellow demonesses when they needed to be picked off. “We’re just passing through the area and got called in. It’s the Bureau of fucking everything.”

The girl’s step lightened at that. She opened a plain door, unpainted wood as hushed voices began talking downstairs. Anton stepped in. It was meticulously clean, almost as if for show. Definitely for show. This woman was a spy, of course she would not give the slightest reason to draw attention to herself. “You can sit.” His eyes ran across the room. It wasn’t rich by any means, but it wasn’t poor. The bed was sturdy, the mattress thick, she had two pillows all to herself. A bottle of wine sat in the corner of the room. It had been opened. “Do you drink?”

“Please don’t report it.”

“I drink too.” Anton said to cool her nerves. “But more than you.” Jani just looked at him in confusion. He knew he got her then, she was re-weighing him as a man. He could practically see the inner workings in her mind slowly lower her opinion of him. “Smoke too.” He laughed. “Upjumped bureaucrat me.” He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to her desk. “Fill that in.”

“Of course Sir.” And now the sir came in. That was the sort of title reserved for someone who needed to be reminded of their own importance. A title for an idiot. The way her tongue curled the word was there too, she was trying to hide the sarcasm. A lesser ear wouldn’t have caught it.

Anton laughed, took a big step into the room and made sure to jolt his arm. Jani jumped up at the at the crash. Anton stood there in surprise for a moment. He looked at the beautiful succubi who had just been peering over the questionnaire he was to get from her. He watched her eyes stray from his, down to the floor, then back at his. She questioned his intelligence, then she looked down to the floor. Her tone was as flat and as dry as the fields through the window. “Your case.”

“It just broke.” Anton said.

“It just did.” She confirmed. Anton looked down at the floor. It had fallen apart entirely. It had ripped apart from the handle and crashed onto the floor. It wasn’t just the sides, it was the entire structure. The corners of the sides had torn off, the papers inside had almost spilled out. From the corner, a picture which carried the edge of Maisara’s hair in a cozy room was peeking out.

“Fuck.” Anton said. He stared at it. “I’ll get another, do the questionnaire, we’ve wasted enough time here.” He took his sweet time getting down the stairs. He took his sweet putting his boots one. He took his sweet time walking back to the car. He sat down. “I just made a fool out of myself.” He said.

“Made?” Miklas asked and Lukas chuckled from the back.

“That’s so fucking funny I forgot to laugh.” Anton replied dryly. He lifted his hand. “Case.” Lukas put an actual proper suitcase into his hand. “Alright, you owe me a pack for this performance.”

“You lost the draw.”

“Fuck you!” Anton shouted, then opened the door as lethargically as he could. He didn’t bother looking at the dogs this time, even those animals must have decided he was an idiot. They just stared at him, not even bothering to lift their heads from the ground. And again, he took off his shoes, he went up the stairs. The family watched him. He turned right, walked down the corridor, cursed loudly so that Jani could here. “FUCK! Which door is it!? Hello!?” He shouted.

Jani’s voice came from the other side of the corridor almost immediately. “Here!” She shouted.

She did not even react to him entering as he talked. “Those dogs are terrifying.” He said, scratching the back of his head like an idiot. “How do you live with them even? Did you finish the sheet?” The succubus was sitting by her desk, filling in the last question of the questionnaire. Anton peered over her shoulder. Every answer was the correct one. He dropped the new case, that one didn’t break. And his eyes went to the broken suitcase.

The papers had indeed been moved about.

Mission success.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep