Ray sat groggily in the rattling carriage, bumping along as he followed the Holy See’s visiting delegation toward the eastern front.

When Jessica heard her assignment was to go to the orc war front on a “support mission,” she burst into tears with a wail, then turned around and bolted straight off to find Clomis.

At first, Ray was a little moved. So Jessica really couldn’t bear to be separated from him. But when Clomis came over holding his slightly strained abs and a face that had literally laughed itself into cramps, asking Ray to help knead them back, Ray’s own face couldn’t help twitching.

Rumor in the streets said orcs especially liked to capture pretty human boys, ravish and toy with them, then hack off their limbs and, once they’d been fattened up, feed them to dire wolves. Jessica had probably heard that kind of gossip a lot. She’d run to Clomis in a panic to beg for mercy, and—as always—filled in the blanks in her head: Ray being dragged off by big burly orc soldiers, passed around until he was in a terrible state. Then she’d vividly described the whole scene to Clomis in full color and surround sound.

Clomis held back his laughter, gently comforted Jessica, and promised Ray would stay in the safest place. Only then did she leave, half believing it. And the first thing he did afterward was rush to Ray and give him an even more exaggerated version.

The next day, Jessica packed over thirty kilos of luggage for herself, had sturdy Little John heave it onto the carriage, then told Ray again and again that if he saw orcs he had to turn around and run. Whatever he did, he must not play the hero. The aunties from the kitchen all came out wiping their eyes to see Ray off, looking at him like he was a parrot plucked completely bald.

Only Clomis snuck over and murmured to him, “Don’t worry and go. I’ll take good care of Jessica for you. Anyway, for someone as capable as you, coming back to check on her will be the work of an eye blink. But hey, should we find a chance to ‘take care of’ Little John? Look, he’s showing off his muscles to Jessica again!”

Ray popped another strip of cheese curd into his mouth. These snacks had probably all been secretly hoarded by Jessica; no wonder he never found anything when he rummaged in the kitchen. If he hadn’t officially told her he was heading to the front this time, he’d probably still not get a bite even by Holy Spirit Day. He smiled to himself, a little pleased, then couldn’t help thinking of his mission again. He pulled a stack of documents from his cloth bag and, seeing the twelve dazzling names on the front page, muttered under his breath.

“No wonder that bastard Clomis refused to come. Young masters and young ladies are a pain to babysit.”

“These spoiled brats are gonna be a pain to babysit! They’re coming out here to fight on the front line! Am I supposed to assign an entire legion as their bodyguards? Do those bureaucrats have lard for brains? How the hell did they come up with this?!” At the same time, in the marshal’s office of Sunset Fortress, Marshal Lundstadt slammed a stack of files onto the desk in fury.

His adjutant Elliott hurried forward, straightened the scattered papers, and said, “But by military standards, even the weakest of them is at least B+ level. Some of them have even reached quasi-S level—almost half a step into legend.”

“Hmph. Human Alliance Youth Power Special Squad. What did they call themselves again?” Lundstadt turned his head slightly and asked.

“Starcarve. It was the top pick in a continent-wide vote,” Elliott quickly added.

“A continent-wide vote? This is a war, not a talent show!”

“Um, maybe the high command just wants a positive image. You know, boost young people’s enthusiasm for enlisting.” Elliott scratched his head and added that in.

“The idea isn’t wrong. But this is Panini, where people bleed and die. Not some kiddie training ground. Veterans who’ve been through a hundred battles still can’t be sure they’ll survive, never mind a bunch of kids who haven’t even seen an orc before. Look at this list! Fourth prince of the Southern Kingdom, Princess Ryan, the West Empire’s second son of a grand duke, Blue Crystal’s second daughter, a quasi–council member of the Free Federation, and so on, and so on. There’s twelve names here—if any one of them dies under my command, it’s going to be a massive mess! Damn!” Lundstadt snatched the papers from Elliott’s hands and slapped them angrily on the desk.

“But this was the resolution passed at last month’s Human Alliance conference. The joint high command praised it highly. And you’re still the supreme commander of this unit. The order to form this squad has already come down as a formal directive. We can’t exactly disobey it,” Elliott said carefully. He was just as troubled by this squad, especially since the marshal had now assigned him as the officer in charge of their future missions.

Lundstadt took a deep breath, turned, and pulled open a drawer. He took out a Church-style envelope stamped with the word “Top Secret” and handed it to Elliott.

“I asked an old friend—His Holiness, Pope Chris—for one man, as the bare minimum guarantee. This matter, and his true identity, are for you and me only.”

“Yes, sir. Understood!” Elliott snapped off a crisp salute, took the envelope with both hands, and carefully pulled out a thin file.

“Um… Is His Holiness Chris serious?” Elliott flipped it over and over. Aside from a photo of a boy in a gray robe, there were only a few sparse lines of text.

Name: Ray

Age: 16

Position: On staff, Internal Affairs Office of the Holy See

Post: Menial worker

Time in post: Two years

Commendations: None

Supervisor’s remarks: None

“So… he’s here to clean up after the young masters?” Elliott rubbed his temples, honestly unable to figure it out. But when he checked the envelope again, a black flag slipped out. It was shaped like a long ribbon, printed with the white emblem of the Holy See.

“Th–th–this… he’s…” Elliott fumbled the Black Flag in a panic and just barely stopped it from hitting the floor.

“Rumor has it that aside from the normal six bureaus and twelve offices, the Holy See has another organization hidden in the deepest dark. Barely twenty people, each with their own symbol—black playing cards, black gloves, a black crest, a black flag, and so on. They’re more efficient than the Intelligence Bureau, more formidable than the Field Bureau, and more ruthless than the fiercest orcs. Some even say they’re a demonic legion the Holy See summoned from hell.” Lundstadt clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the Black Flag.

“The Judicial bureau…” Elliott gulped audibly.

“I once held this very flag, which flew over the plains for more than a year, and asked Lord Chris about it face to face. He denied the Judicial bureau exists.”

“Uh… His Holiness Chris is the Pope. How could he lie…”

“He didn’t lie, Elliott. The problem was my question. The Holy See really doesn’t have a ‘Judicial bureau.’ But the so-called ‘Executors’ of legend do exist. Just like him—hidden away in some unremarkable post.” Lundstadt picked up the Black Flag again and sighed.

“Sixteen. That’s really young.”

“Elliott, His Holiness Chris has given us an ace. We’re going to play this round properly.”

“Yes, Marshal!”

“Assign Ray to Sunset Fortress’s Internal Affairs Office as a menial worker. But he’s only to receive orders from the Starcarve military officer, Yang Elliott, and the Human Alliance commander-in-chief, Stein Lundstadt. Grant him wartime freedom of action. Starting tomorrow, he’ll observe Starcarve’s team drills and coordination training.”

“Yes, Marshal!” Elliott snapped to attention and gave another sharp salute.