It's all one flower.

Farkill, as usual this morning, began to organize data in the computer room at the Mariana residence. First of all, the task is to capture the data you get on paper with a scanner.

As soon as I started my computer, I was knocked.

"Mr. Farkill, Mr. Giorchi and Mr. Septentorio are here"

"What?... Yes, go ahead -"

Farkill was surprised by the rare combination, but the servant, like the other guests, carefully guided him and pulled him in.

The state-run broadcast announcer and former military doctor's curse doctor also cut out an errand there to greet him.

"It's about something like Cravel's journal..."

"Cravel's Log......? Oh, that's a weekly text message, huh?

For a while now, "no fighting, no terrorism, no special notes" continues.

I'm not sure if anything is really going on or if there are circumstances that I can't write about.

"I first read the whole thing yesterday from my past stuff...... did you know who wrote that one?

"What? No, not at all"

Farkill, a native of Artel, only knows more Nemoralis than he used to, and everyone from the mobile broadcaster Praether Missa is there.

I don't know if the spelldoctor has even assumed it, he goes on without looking particularly disappointed.

"Maybe I thought it might be a government army or a Nemus Liberation Army associate, but who better to meet in person with an informant, don't you know?

Farkill entered his password on his usual computer.

The screen switched to the desktop immediately, but not yet, in a folder of data. While waiting for the network connection and antivirus software to start, continue the conversation.

"What makes you think I'm an associate of the military?

"The format of the text is similar to the daily newspaper of the old Royal Army."

"Is the Nemoralis government army the same way you write today?

"I've never seen anything current, but I can think of the possibility of a long-lived race that will continue to work from the old Royal Army"

"Oh, well. So, the PLA, they're ordinary people now, but some people used to be in the military, right?

The target seems to be able to narrow it down, and it's wide. It's a delicate lead.

For example, the spelldoctor Septentorio was a military doctor in the days of the former Royal Lacus Lacrimalis Army. Chloenier, now manager of the "Magic Cute Thing Store" and Putnik, who runs the material store for spells and magic drugs, are also old kingdom-era knights.

Even after the outbreak of the coup, there is no wonder that "strong ordinary people" like them remained in Cravel, the capital of the Nemoralis Republic.

"If the informants were part of the Nemus Liberation Army, they wouldn't have to leave the capital in the first place."

Jorch, caught up in the battle between the government and the PLA and bereaved of everything, said in a calm voice, trying, but bitter thoughts seep in its face (toes).

Farkill opened a folder summarizing information about the capital, Cravel.

Several collaborators are diverse, including hearsay obtained in rural and fishing villages around the capital, records of cargo vessels entering ports, records of transactions with the outside world, such as companies and personal shops left in Cravel, testimonies of temple officials, information received directly from people who have escaped the capital, and replies concerning the capital of a questionnaire conducted in temples and refugee camps in the territory of the Kingdom of Lacrimalis.

Something like a primary information-like log in the city is summarized in the "Capital Journal" folder. The original data is a handwritten note. The images captured by the scanner and those texted for reporting are displayed side by side.

"This is how the report is sent to everyone every month who enters it"

"Spelldoctor, don't you recognize the handwriting?

"Excuse me, I was in the Royal Army almost two hundred years ago... at least not General Al Jadi and General Unuk Elhaia"

The spelldoctor Septentorio responded with an apologetic face to the questions of the National Broadcasting Announcer.

"I'd be surprised if the head of the government and the PLA gave us information every week on such a nasty note."

Furkill said, announcer Jorch loosened his cheeks slightly.

"So, who does Mr. Fiarlka take this note from?

"Indirectly"

"Indirectly...?

Two adults tilt their necks at the same time.

"Mr. Fiarlka said that he would get a cleric he knew at the Western Temple in Wangdu, but the cleric was kept by a temple volunteer in Rachka, who also became second only because he was consulted by a fishmonger in Rachka, and the fishmonger asked him..."

"I mean, I don't know who wrote it... and?

"Yes, it is."

"Why such a roundabout...?

Announcer Jorch pushed his misaligned glasses up with his fingers.

The spelldoctor Septentorio answers.

"No matter which army knows about this information, the person who wrote it will be in danger."

"What? Why not?

Farkill also asked concerned.

"Early information has a fairly detailed description of the strength of the two armies and the state of the city warfare. It may be a military secret for the government forces, and the PLA will be countered by the government forces once the cohesive force information is known, such as the main schools of its constituents"

"Ahhh...!

Even the average person is quite dangerous, but it's a serious leak of information that could be executed, assuming he was one of the military officials.

Details of the magnitude of the explosion and the damage caused by the bomb attack will also allow, if someone with knowledge sees it, the type of bomb used by the star marker (servant), the identification of the route of access to the material, the analysis of the attack pattern and the blocking of the next terrorist plan.

"I guess it's also the intent of the informant to confirm his survival that all recent information continues to be 'No Combat, No Terrorism, No Special Notes'"

"Oh well. If you don't have anything, if you don't, you'll be worried that if you don't report it, it might have been some kind of mess."

At first, the situation from the start of the city battle to the day before the reporting date was surprisingly summed up in one notebook.

Since then, envelopes packed with notes have come to reach fishing villages near the capital, Cravel, in pieces the week but about once a week, at the latest every ten days.

The envelope was placed on a fishing boat at some point and I don't know who wrote it.

A former military doctor's explanation finally showed me why I would do such a hassle.