Sworded Affair

Internal Affairs, as a general rule, did not get too much publicity from the media arm of the Empire. This was sensible, because as a department that worked in the shadows, investigating misconduct and crime committed by other members of the Empire, they preferred to keep a low profile, typically only commenting on their work on a particular case, long after it was finished, if ever. The personnel, too, were kept out of the limelight, their capabilities heavily classified to keep their targets guessing. In this, Elizabeth Faust was something of an exception. Famous for the circumstances of her family, long before taking formal employment, her skill with memory manipulation was known far and wide, to the point where enemy agents carried suicide pills when operating near her, preferring death over capture.

Everyone knew that to be captured by Elizabeth was to have their mind ripped open and all their secrets stolen, so they must never find themselves in a situation where she can freely work them over with her magic. The Empire's spymasters encouraged this, lavishing her with praise, both because it instilled fear in their enemies, but also to mislead and discourage them from looking deeper at her skillset: why bother, when it was already so well known? Because of this, very few people knew the extent of her passive scanning, or that she could lift surface thoughts from even fellow Magi without giving the game away, should their mind prove unguarded. Very little came of this, usually, because practitioners were typically paranoid by nature, and mental protection was standard issue, but sometimes, people slipped up.

I can't wait to get out of this shithole. Nearly a month spent watching the water, all to distract the Magical Girl Corps from the real battles, bah. I can't wait to see their faces when they return home, to find it all a smoking ruin.

Needless to say, Elizabeth hadn't expected to hear thoughts such as these, three weeks into her assignment on the coast of Dover: especially not from the commander of the entire operation, who really should have known better than to broadcast their thoughts in such a way. Elizabeth cast half a dozen discreet diagnostic skills, only to find nothing amiss; which made sense, if an infiltrator had come prepared for her magic in advance, which was why she had alternatives on hand. Palming a skill potion from storage, she didn't hesitate to pop the cork and down the foul concoction, as bitter as raw coffee beans with a spicy aftertaste worthy of a Carolina Reaper. It was worth it, even as her mouth and nose burned, all for ten seconds of access to the highest tier of a particular System skill: Detect. Focusing her mind with the ease of long practice, she turned to her commanding officer, still stood on the rampart overlooking the English Channel, and looked.

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[Doppelganger Demon - Level 50]

Elizabeth stared at the bold text pop-up for the full ten seconds, feeling the life leave her as she mentally tallied the amount of pointless busy work she'd done over the past weeks, supposedly for the good of the Empire. Her anger steadily mounted, even as she drew her bow and arrow and shot the infiltrator in the back at point blank range.

—

"Well, looks like this is it."

Noah lay prone in a pillbox, completely dry of mana and too tired to move, his voice barely audible over the roar of artillery and gouts of balefire. The former flew overhead, launched from further inland to try and relieve their position, and left craters wherever they landed, while the latter burned merrily around their makeshift foxhole, consuming anything and anyone that came near the flames. It wasn't enough, not even close, against the numbers they were facing, and for the umpteenth time, Noah wondered not if there was a traitor in their midst, but who it might be, because there was no way he would accept his present situation as being a mere coincidence.

What was supposed to be a routine inspection of a forward outpost had descended into chaos, mere minutes after their arrival. Adding insult to injury, the sun shone bright above them; it was barely noon, the least likely time for new demons to spawn, yet an entire host had suddenly appeared within spitting distance, numbering in the thousands and quickly surrounding the fifty men he'd brought with him. Their only saving grace had been the handful of earth mages who came along, intending to expand the fortifications with their magic. Instead, they'd given their all to reinforce what was already there, just about keeping a single hard point alive. They were dead now, picked off one by one as they worked on the walls, with what could only be snipers given the complete lack of warning with every shot.

"Demon snipers, bah."

Noah would have spat, but there wasn't enough moisture left in him for that, so he could only glare out through the peephole at the approaching horde. His hand went to the pendant at his neck, a single white marble hanging from a chain of gold. It was far softer than real marble would've been, a necessary measure for easy access to its payload, a single drop of basilisk venom, capable of killing a grown man in five seconds flat when ingested. It was the gold standard in suicide pills, guaranteeing a quick and painless death, whilst the lingering magic of the basilisk would also permeate the body left behind, fouling incoming magic and invalidating most methods of necromancy, including all the more detestable forms that could compel answers from the dead.

The entire pillbox shuddered as another wave of demonic magic hit home, and another of his men dropped dead. The last Earth mage to fall had left a sacrificial ward behind, one that enabled others, even non-magicals, to spend their vital essence to keep their defensive barrier intact. Noah was one of the last, only three more men remained, each just as exhausted and out of ammunition, just waiting for the end to come. Soon, they would be gone, and he would take the pill, to protect his secrets and his family.

Noah almost had it to his mouth, when light bloomed on the horizon, and magical girls rained down by the dozen in righteous fury.