I Was Mistaken as a Great War Commander-Chapter 121
The Next Morning
Glorious Sacred Flame Cathedral – Chapel
“Even in the Old Testament, God commanded us to love our neighbors as ourselves. This is one of the many ways we can witness His divine guidance in our lives...”
As Pastor Belaf delivered his sermon, Daniel and Freyen sat quietly in the pews, whispering to each other.
“Are you really planning to deal with those shameless ingrates?”
Freyen’s voice was filled with disbelief.
Daniel let out a dry chuckle and nodded.
“Of course. No matter how small a spark may be, it’s best to extinguish it early. Regretting it after it turns into a wildfire would be far too late, don’t you think?”
“But your plan is far too dangerous. What if they turn into a violent mob...?”
“A mob, you say?”
A faint smile curled at the corners of Daniel’s lips.
“Lieutenant Freyen, they’re not a mob. They’re nothing more than a flock of sheep, blindly following the shepherd’s provocation. No matter how many sheep gather, they’ll never be able to tear apart a wolf.”
Even though he was fully aware of the approaching anti-war protestors, Daniel’s expression remained utterly unshaken.
Freyen, watching him in silence, could no longer suppress her curiosity and asked,
“...Do you have some kind of plan?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here, now would I?”
Daniel paused briefly before continuing,
“Listen carefully, Freyen. Do you know what frightens sheep the most? It’s the scent of a wounded wolf’s blood. Because they have no way of knowing what that wounded wolf might do next.”
“Blood...? What do you mean?”
“I have a man planted among the protestors. When the demonstration starts getting out of hand, he will throw a brick at my head.”
Freyen’s mouth parted slightly in shock at how casually Daniel revealed such a thing.
Looking around warily, she leaned in and whispered,
“A brick? Colonel, that could seriously injure you.”
“Don’t worry. The brick’s clay ratio has been reduced, and the sand content increased. Also, the firing temperature was lowered, making it brittle and easy to break.”
“Even if it’s fake, it’s still dangerous. You will get hurt.”
“That’s the idea.”
Daniel’s indifferent response left Freyen at a loss for words.
Sensing her confusion, Daniel glanced at her from the corner of his eye and spoke with quiet amusement,
“Didn’t I just tell you? The thing sheep fear the most... is the scent of a wolf’s blood.”
****
Meanwhile, in front of the Glorious Sacred Flame Cathedral, nearly a thousand protestors stood with picket signs, chanting their slogans.
“The Glorious Sacred Flame Cathedral must stop worshiping warmongers!”
“We do not want war! Only murderers desire war!”
“Daniel Steiner, who denies peace, must step down!”
Their voices, though varied in tone and pitch, rose together with a single purpose, echoing high into the sky.
“Those who deny peace are—!”
“Nothing but butchers!”
As time passed, a few figures began taking charge of the demonstration, leading the crowd in rhythmic chants.
And in response to their growing fervor—
The cathedral doors creaked open.
From within, Daniel Steiner and Freyen stepped out.
The long coat of Daniel’s military uniform billowed slightly as he walked forward, his presence somehow carrying an imposing weight.
Unwilling to be overwhelmed, the protestors raised their voices once more.
“It’s the warmonger!”
“The butcher is approaching!”
“Get out of here!”
In their agitation, some began reaching into their baskets, pulling out rotten vegetables and fruits to hurl at him.
They were doing everything they could to resist—within the limits of avoiding actual harm.
Yet despite their efforts, none of the flying produce so much as grazed Daniel.
He continued walking, completely unbothered.
Thud—
A single tomato struck his shoulder before tumbling away.
But even that did not halt his advance.
By the time he stopped, there were only about ten paces left between him and the protestors.
Though they were still throwing produce, the frequency had notably diminished.
Seeing this, Daniel raised both hands, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation.
“Fellow citizens, I did not come here to fight with you. I came here to clear up misunderstandings and—”
“Misunderstandings, my ass!”
A middle-aged man at the forefront of the protest took a step forward, fury burning in his eyes.
“My son died in this war! The boy who was supposed to take over my trade died in the battlefield, turned into a corpse!”
As if spurred by his grief, other voices began echoing his outrage.
“Step down, you demon!”
“You’re dragging us all to our deaths!”
Once again, the protestors began throwing fruit, this time with greater force.
And now that the distance had closed, more of the projectiles landed on Daniel’s coat and uniform, splattering him with their sour juices.
Yet even as the stench of rotting fruit clung to the air, Daniel did not move to wipe it away. Instead, he simply raised his hands higher, his voice cutting through the rising commotion.
“Citizens! Please, calm yourselves! I did not come here to—”
At that moment—
From within the crowd, a brick came flying straight toward Daniel.
Though he saw it coming, he did not move to dodge.
There was no need to.
Getting hit was part of the plan.
Crack—!
The arc of the brick’s trajectory was perfect, striking Daniel’s forehead before breaking apart.
“Urgh...!”
He staggered slightly from the impact, and at that instant—
Freyen let out a horrified scream.
She rushed to support him, her tearful gaze sweeping across the crowd.
“What the hell are you doing!?” she cried. “Are you trying to kill Colonel Steiner!?”
The moment her desperate voice rang out—
A wave of silence washed over the protestors.
The thrown fruit, the chanting, the insults—all of it ceased.
Because throwing rotten fruit was one thing.
Throwing a brick at an imperial officer in the middle of wartime... was something else entirely.
Everyone knew the punishment for assaulting an imperial officer.
Even harming a low-ranking officer was considered a serious crime.
This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.
But now—they had just ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) injured Daniel Steiner.
A war hero.
A man celebrated as a savior of the Empire.
A murmur of fear spread through the crowd.
“Who... who threw that?”
“Why a brick...?”
The protestors were now gripped by tension, their trust in each other crumbling.
Watching this unfold in silence, Daniel raised his hand to touch the spot where the brick had struck him.
A sharp pain flared across his forehead, causing his brow to furrow.
As he exhaled slowly and lowered his hand, his palm was smeared with blood.
Perfect.
Now, the protestors could no longer distance themselves from the reality of what had just happened—they had assaulted an imperial officer.
With the balance of power fully shifted in his favor, Daniel gently moved Freyen aside and lifted his head.
“...Citizens.”
The protestors, who had been loudly chanting just moments ago, were now forced to listen.
“You called me a warmonger. A man who denies peace. That statement is only half true. But tell me—how am I denying peace?”
Blood trickled down from his forehead.
“I desire peace more than anyone. More than anyone standing here today!”
Daniel’s sudden outburst thickened the tension in the air.
He scanned the faces in the crowd one by one before narrowing his eyes.
“If peace simply means the absence of war—then yes, I am guilty. I am a man who denies peace. But is that truly what you desire?”
Raising his bloodied hand, Daniel gestured toward the east, where the Allied Nations lay beyond their borders.
“Do you wish to surrender to the Allied Nations? Do you want to live as their slaves? If that is your will—then I shall remove this uniform and step down from my position. I will abide by your wishes!”
But not a single person in the crowd could bring themselves to demand that he step down.
They were shaken.
Seeing Daniel bleed so openly had frightened them, and though they opposed the war, none of them wished to live as the Allied Nations’ subjugates.
“My dear citizens.”
Daniel’s voice lowered, adopting a sorrowful tone, as though he were deeply pained by the situation.
“War exists to protect the peace we cherish. If fighting to defend that peace makes me a warmonger, then I will not argue.”
Dropping his hand, Daniel allowed a brief silence to settle before speaking again.
“Citizens. If condemning me brings you comfort, then do as you please. But do not deceive yourselves with the illusion of false peace.”
A hush fell over parts of the crowd.
Some of the protestors bowed their heads, seemingly moved by his words.
Others, however, remained stubborn—not convinced, just intimidated.
One of them—the same middle-aged man from earlier—stepped forward, standing as the voice of their resistance.
“False peace? Would you say the same to my son? The son I buried after he was sent to die on the battlefield?”
Daniel’s gaze snapped to him.
His piercing stare was suffocating.
The man **felt it—**the sheer weight of Daniel Steiner’s presence.
But still, he refused to back down.
Daniel studied him for a long moment before responding.
“Yes. I would say the same to him.”
“What kind of justification—”
“Do you know how many battles I have fought?”
The man fell silent.
“Do you know what the dying say to me in their final moments?”
Daniel took slow, deliberate steps toward him.
“I have watched countless comrades die. Some have died in my arms. Do you think their last words were pleas for peace?”
He stopped just short of the man, their eyes locking.
“In their last moments, soldiers do not beg for peace.”
“...They beg me to continue the fight.”
“They ask me to see this war through to its end.”
“To ensure the Empire’s victory—so that we may secure eternal peace.”
The man’s lips parted—but no words came.
Because the truth was, he did not know what his son’s final words had been.
If Daniel Steiner was carrying out the last wishes of fallen soldiers—was condemning him not the same as trampling on his son’s dying hopes?
The man lowered his head.
Slowly, his son’s face surfaced in his mind.
Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision.
“I... I’m sorry...”
His voice trembled.
“I am so sorry...”
His shoulders shook as grief finally consumed him.
And Daniel—letting out a quiet breath—pulled the man into a firm embrace.
Gently, he patted the man’s back.
“It’s alright. I understand.”
Even with his eyes closed, Daniel could hear everything happening around him.
The thud of picket signs hitting the ground.
The hushed murmurs of protestors, questioning their own actions.
The whispers of guilt spreading through the crowd.
And amidst it all—
A camera shutter clicked in the distance.
The final act of his carefully staged performance had come to its perfect conclusion.
