I Was Mistaken as a Great War Commander-Chapter 109

Negotiation Day

The Belmore Kingdom’s delegation crossed the Empire’s border and entered Barheim.

A convoy of black vehicles moved in a line, with Major General Magref seated in the central car. His displeasure was evident as he remarked,

“No one said I’d get a warm welcome, but this... feels excessive. Not a single official to receive the delegation?”

From the entrance of Barheim to their current location near the city center, the person in charge of the city had yet to appear.

The cold reception felt like an unspoken message— ‘If you’ve come to negotiate, then negotiate and leave.’

‘But there’s no room for complaint.’

After all, it was the Belmore Kingdom that initiated the attack.

And in the process, their Crown Prince had fallen into enemy hands.

Even if the Empire committed a diplomatic slight, Belmore was in no position to protest.

Accepting the reality of their weakened stance, Magref was regaining his composure when—

“Stop! All vehicles, halt!”

A group of soldiers, likely the city’s guards, brought the convoy to a sudden stop.

As Magref wondered what was happening, an officer approached his vehicle.

“We will be conducting a brief inspection. Before you proceed to the negotiation site, we must verify your identities one final time. Please present your passports, diplomatic credentials, orders, or letters of appointment.”

The aide seated beside Magref bristled with indignation.

“What is the meaning of this!? We already passed an identity check at the city entrance, and your superiors granted us clearance! Are you trying to humiliate us!?”

Though visibly sweating under the aide’s fury, the Imperial officer did not retreat.

Watching the exchange, Magref exhaled a low sigh and pulled out his passport and identification.

“Stand down. We are at war. It’s only natural they exercise caution with security procedures. There’s no need to lose your temper.”

Along with his identification, Magref retrieved his official orders from his coat and handed them over.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

The officer accepted the documents with a curt nod and began the verification process.

Expecting the procedure to take some time, Magref leaned back against his seat—

Bang—!

The sudden crack of gunfire made his shoulders twitch.

His gaze snapped toward the source of the shot, where several bodies crumpled to the ground, bullets embedded in their skulls.

A firing squad.

Imperial soldiers were carrying out a public execution against a wall on the plaza’s far side.

‘Prisoners, no doubt...’

It was war, after all. Conserving resources was a necessity, and feeding condemned criminals was a waste.

Though he had no interest in watching the spectacle, Magref clicked his tongue and turned his eyes away.

Just then, the officer returned, handing back his documents.

“Verification is complete. Apologies for any offense.”

Magref gave a brief nod, accepting his papers without further comment.

The officer strode to the front of the convoy and shouted for the road to be cleared.

At his command, the guards stepped aside, allowing the delegation to proceed.

Several minutes later, the vehicles slowed as they approached the brigade headquarters—the designated site for the negotiations.

Once the convoy halted, the driver stepped out and opened the door for Magref.

Stepping onto the pavement, Magref drew a deep breath, taking in the air of Barheim before his gaze rose to the building ahead.

‘So this is it... Where Daniel Steiner waits.’

A man of such infamy—what kind of person could inspire such dread?

As the thought lingered, the crisp click of heels on stone drew his attention.

A young woman, her short silver hair gleaming and red eyes sharp, approached with composed steps.

“You must be Major General Magref, the chief delegate for the negotiations.”

Magref’s gaze sharpened as he sized her up.

“And you are?”

“I am Lucy Emilia, Lieutenant and aide to Colonel Daniel Steiner. If you would allow me, I will escort you to him.”

“...Steiner’s aide, you say.”

Magref’s eyes lingered on her for a moment before he nodded.

“Lead the way.”

“Understood. Please, follow me.”

Lucy turned gracefully, her demeanor polished and professional.

Without hesitation, Magref and his aide followed her into the building.

The trio walked through the brigade headquarters, their steps echoing down the corridors until they arrived at a reception room—

But Daniel Steiner was nowhere to be seen.

Magref’s gaze swept the empty room before landing on Lucy once more.

“Is Colonel Steiner not here?”

“He will arrive shortly. Please, have a seat and wait for him.”

Her composed, almost indifferent response made Magref’s brow furrow.

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‘They’re looking down on us. Deliberately.’

Anger flared within him, but he smothered it. Complaining would change nothing. With a slow breath, he sank into the sofa.

Minutes ticked by.

Five.

Then ten.

Yet Daniel Steiner still had not appeared.

The aide, his frustration mounting, approached Magref and lowered his voice.

“...Your Excellency. Are you truly going to tolerate such disrespect from Daniel Steiner?”

Magref’s sigh was cold and heavy.

“Aide. Don’t fall into his trap.”

“A trap, sir?”

“Yes. The bastard is making us wait to assert dominance—”

His eyes narrowed.

“He wants to drive home that he, that the Empire, holds the upper hand. If we let our tempers flare, the only side disadvantaged during negotiations will be us.”

The aide’s face hardened in understanding. With a short nod, he withdrew, silently awaiting further developments.

And then—

The doors finally opened.

A tall figure stepped through, clad in an immaculate Imperial officer’s uniform.

Daniel Steiner.

The man’s height was imposing, his frame lean but sturdy. Dark shadows beneath his eyes hinted at exhaustion, yet his expression was smooth and easy—his smile, effortless.

Despite making them wait, he exuded not a shred of tension or urgency.

The air about him radiated control.

Magref’s instincts spoke, clear and cold—

This was no ordinary man.

This was a formidable adversary.

"So, you've finally arrived."

As Magref rose from his seat, Daniel Steiner approached with a casual stride.

"My apologies for the delay," Daniel said, extending his hand. "There were some operational matters that required my attention."

With a slight smile, he continued,

"Daniel Steiner. Operations Officer of the Imperial General Staff, Lieutenant Colonel. Currently serving as the battalion commander of a direct-attachment unit under Headquarters command."

Magref clasped the offered hand firmly.

"Magref Terophonmar. Major General of Belmore’s 2nd Armored Division and a Count of the Kingdom. Given your workload, I’ll overlook your tardiness."

Daniel’s lips curled in a playful grin.

"Ah, ever the nobleman. Such poise, such magnanimity. Truly admirable."

With a chuckle laced with mock amusement, he gestured toward the sofa.

"Shall we sit and have a chat?"

Nodding curtly, Magref took his seat, and Daniel followed suit across from him.

It was Magref who spoke first.

"Let’s begin by addressing the key points of negotiation—"

He halted mid-sentence.

Daniel had raised a hand, signaling him to stop.

"I said we’d talk. Let’s leave the negotiations for later."

One of Magref's eyebrows twitched.

"Talk? What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Oh, I think you know perfectly well what I mean," Daniel replied smoothly.

A shadow of ice crept into Magref’s voice.

"Colonel Steiner. Do you take this setting for some jesting parlor?"

Daniel, still smiling faintly, met his gaze without flinching.

A long, weighted silence passed.

Then, breaking it, Daniel let out a low chuckle and produced a portable radio.

"Are you ready to fire?"

Fire? Magref's eyes sharpened with confusion—until the radio crackled with a response.

—"Yes, sir. We have prepared 267 rounds, as ordered."

267 rounds.

Magref’s heart skipped.

Because he knew that number.

267—the exact count of the prisoners Daniel had taken.

The execution scene from the plaza flashed in his mind, and a cold realization coiled around his gut. This wasn’t practice.

Daniel’s next words pierced through the chill in the air—

"Start with twenty rounds. Tell the designated marksmen to fire on my signal."

Both Magref and his aide stiffened in stunned silence, their blood running cold.

What in God’s name—

Then—

Bang—!

The sudden crack of gunfire from nearby made Magref’s hand flinch uncontrollably.

A tremor flickered through his eyes.

"You—" Magref's voice strained against his disbelief.

His breath hitched, then burst out in a shout—

"What the hell are you doing!? I came here for negotiations! Are you trying to threaten me!?"

But Daniel only shrugged with the nonchalance of someone commenting on the weather.

"Threaten you?" He sounded almost amused. "Oh no. I simply ordered a live-fire exercise. Marksmanship training for my men—an entirely routine affair."

Magref felt his throat dry up.

"Training?" He nearly choked on the word. "You’re calling this—killing— training?"

His hand trembled. His pulse throbbed violently against his skin.

‘Does... this man even have a heart?’

Yet Daniel’s tone remained light—almost conversational.

"Now then," he continued smoothly, as if they were discussing the weather, "let’s return to our conversation."

His eyes, however, turned cold as iron.

"I’d like to know—" he paused, his voice soft and deadly—

"—how the Crown Prince of Belmore was able to pinpoint my exact location so precisely."

A hard swallow scraped down Magref’s throat.

"...Why," he said, his voice dry and tight, "are you asking me that?"

Daniel inclined his head slightly, as if considering the question—then, without breaking eye contact, he pressed the radio once more.

"Fire."

Bang—Bang—Bang—

The consecutive cracks of gunfire reverberated through the air.

The sound was more than noise; it was a declaration, cold and merciless.

Magref’s hand twitched, an involuntary urge to cover his ears seizing him—yet he resisted. Barely.

The world felt too narrow, the walls too close. His heart pounded, each beat a hammer against his chest.

"Report," Daniel ordered through the radio.

—"All rounds hit their mark, sir."

"Good," Daniel said, his voice calm. "Load a hundred rounds for the next volley."

—A hundred rounds.

A bead of cold sweat traced down Magref’s temple.

The air in his lungs felt heavier than iron, and his lips parted slightly—his breath shaky and raw.

His composure was cracking—splintering under the monstrous pressure Daniel exuded.

Yet Daniel remained unchanged. Unbothered. Unshaken. His smile, thin and knowing, lingered as he calmly removed his officer’s cap and placed it on the table before him.

The movement was unhurried, almost casual.

Then he looked at Magref directly. The faint smile vanished.

"I will ask you once more."

The air seemed to still, the room shrinking around them as Daniel’s voice dropped into a low, cold register.

"Who is it?"

His eyes—sharp, unrelenting—fixed on Magref with the intensity of a predator locking onto wounded prey.

"Who," he said, each word slow and cutting,

"—is the Empire’s rat that you’ve been working with?"