I Was Mistaken as a Great War Commander

Chapter 88

Edbol, nervously darting his eyes, swallowed hard.

Deciding it was best to cooperate for now, he gave a small nod.

Moving cautiously, he walked to the sofa and sat down across from Hamtal. The Black Swan operative, still disguised as a soldier, kept the gun trained on him.

Edbol, unnerved by the constant threat, stole a glance at the operative, prompting Hamtal to raise a hand.

At his signal, the operative lowered the weapon without a word.

Realizing they didn’t intend to kill him immediately, Edbol felt a fleeting sense of relief and turned his attention back to Hamtal.

"…What do you want?"

Hamtal didn’t answer right away. He merely stared at Edbol with an unwavering gaze.

Silence, as they say, can be a weapon.

Feeling the weight of Hamtal’s silence, Edbol spoke, even though no question had been posed.

"Are you from the Empire’s intelligence division? If so, I’m willing to cooperate. As you likely already know, I did authorize the opening of territorial waters to the submarine. But that was only because the Allied Nations threatened me. I can provide evidence to—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Evidence?

Edbol froze as the thought struck him.

Did I have any evidence?

He replayed his dealings with the Allied Nations in his mind.

They had always communicated orders or delivered bribes verbally through intermediaries, ensuring there were no witnesses.

Furthermore, the bribes had been in cash, not through bank transactions.

There were no documents, no records of communication—no evidence at all.

As the realization that he’d been duped sank in, Edbol’s pupils trembled.

"Edbol."

Watching him carefully, Hamtal spoke in a quiet voice.

"We don’t want trivial things like that. We just want you to tell the truth to the world."

Edbol broke into a cold sweat.

The ticking of the wall clock seemed deafeningly loud.

Taking a shaky breath, he frowned.

"I can’t do that. You’re essentially asking me to die. If you’re here to negotiate, then make a proper offer."

Hamtal chuckled softly, the sound low and menacing.

"You still think we’re agents of the Empire’s intelligence division? Ignorance truly has no cure."

After a brief pause for consideration, Hamtal nodded.

"Fine. Since we’re here, let me tell you a story from my past."

Raising a hand, Hamtal absently stroked his fingers.

"Edbol, do you know how long it takes for a fingernail to grow back after it’s been torn out?"

Edbol didn’t respond.

Rather, he couldn’t.

Anyone who’d lived an ordinary life would never have given such a question any thought.

"Anywhere from six months to nearly a year. And let me tell you, it’s not a piece of information I ever wanted to learn. Losing a fingernail is one of the most excruciating experiences imaginable."

Hamtal clicked his tongue softly.

"When I was young, it was normal for Black people to face discrimination. It’s not much different now, but back then, we weren’t even considered human. We were treated like beasts who happened to know how to speak."

He chuckled bitterly, though the sound weighed heavily in the room.

"I, too, was a beast back then—because my master treated me like one. The bastard had a peculiar hobby: torturing Black slaves."

Hamtal removed his leather gloves, revealing his hands.

The smile vanished from his face as he stared at them.

"Being beaten bloody by my master was a daily occurrence. My body was covered in scars. And yet, ironically, I thought to myself, ‘This much, I can endure.’ Such was the twisted mentality of a slave."
"…"

"But my master wasn’t satisfied. One day, he approached me with a pair of pliers. That day, amidst my screams, I lost my fingernails."

Hamtal turned his hands, showing them to Edbol.

His fingernails were uneven and misshapen, deformed during the regrowth process after being torn out.

"It was agony. Why was it so painful? Later, I learned that the area beneath the fingernail is densely packed with nerves. Compared to that, a mere cut on the skin is nothing."

Putting his gloves back on, Hamtal continued.

"The worst part wasn’t the pain, though. It was the fact that I couldn’t even pick up objects. Every attempt sent unbearable pain shooting through my fingertips. Even lifting a cup of water became a struggle."
"…"

"And so, I made a decision: I’d kill the master who had inflicted this hell upon me. Fueled by that hatred alone, I endured for years. But, unfortunately, I never got the chance for revenge."

Hamtal’s eyes closed slowly, then reopened.

"One of my fellow slaves, unable to bear the abuse, stole a gun and shot him dead. How do you think I felt then? Go on, take a guess."

Edbol hesitated, glancing at Hamtal nervously before finally speaking.

"…You weren’t happy?"

Hamtal let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

"Not at all. My master died too easily. A bullet to the head—he likely felt no pain. For him, death was a luxury he didn’t deserve."

"And so…"

"The child I was at the time burned with rage. If I could’ve brought him back to life, I would have—just to make him suffer as I had. To show him the living hell I’d endured."

Hamtal, his laughter fading, fixed his gaze intently on Edbol.

"But that rage now…"

His hollow eyes glimmered with a chilling malice.

"…is directed at you."

Edbol's breath quickened as fear gripped him.

Those words carried a terror far beyond mere threats of torture, a terror rooted in the unknown.

Watching the frightened Edbol, Hamtal shook his head.

"But I don’t plan to act on it. I’m not the same as my master. However, Edbol, if you choose to reject our proposal…"

Amidst the eerie tension, Hamtal continued.

"…we will gladly become devils if need be."

Edbol, struggling to meet Hamtal’s piercing gaze, found himself lowering his eyes involuntarily.

He simply couldn’t withstand the weight of it.

"This is your one and only chance. I hope you make the wise choice."

If you don’t reveal the truth to the world, you will face hell.

With that ominous warning, Hamtal picked up the fedora from the table and placed it on his head.

As Hamtal stood, Edbol, still trembling, spoke in a quivering voice.

"…May I ask you one thing?"
"What is it?"
"If you’re not from the Empire’s intelligence division, why are you so intent on exposing the truth about the diplomatic vessel attack?"

Edbol’s question was spoken with as much courage as he could muster, but Hamtal and the Black Swan operative only chuckled derisively.

The laughter, however, didn’t last long.

It abruptly stopped, and Hamtal’s icy voice filled the room.

"You already know. You crossed a line you should never have crossed."

Edbol’s eyes widened in realization.

"Surely you don’t mean…"

He had heard rumors—stories of an unidentified paramilitary organization, often described as Daniel Steiner’s armed praetorian guard.

As the pieces fell into place and Edbol grasped Hamtal’s identity, a sudden blow struck the back of his neck.

Before he could even scream, Edbol crumpled to the floor, his eyes rolling back.

Through his blurring vision, he saw Hamtal looming over him.

"Everything…"

As his consciousness slipped away, Hamtal adjusted the brim of his fedora and whispered softly.

"…is for Daniel Steiner."

*****

Meanwhile, under Selvia's orders, the Imperial fleet crossed Vellanos' territorial waters and safely arrived at the port of Tentarbachem.

Escorted by four massive surface combat ships, the fleet included four landing ships carrying search troops and two supply vessels, forming a grand procession as they entered the harbor.

Patrol aircraft circled the fleet, while several Imperial fighter planes flew over Tentarbachem’s skies, as if scouting the area. At first, the sight caused some citizens to mistakenly believe war had broken out.

To avoid unnecessary misunderstandings, the fleet commander explained to the public the purpose of the troops’ arrival before ordering the search operation to commence.

With no time to rest, the troops immediately set to work.

Among them was the Imperial Guard, led by Hartmann, the chief of security. He commanded a battalion-level force.

"We’re searching this coastline! By order of Her Highness, the Princess! Leave no stone unturned!"

At Hartmann’s command on a stretch of coastline, the Imperial Guards dispersed in all directions to begin their search.

Confirming the troops’ coordinated movements, Hartmann scanned the surroundings.

"Abandoned fishing boats and shacks…"

The desolate scenery struck him as grim and forlorn.

After surveying the area for a moment, Hartmann decided to check one of the shacks and began to move when—

"Colonel Hartmann!"

A subordinate’s voice made him turn his head.

The subordinate, his expression one of disbelief, spoke up.

"…I think we’ve found something."

At those words, Hartmann immediately approached.

At the subordinate's feet, buried in the sand, was a uniform.

"This is…"

Hartmann knelt down and brushed away the sand, retrieving the uniform.

It bore the insignia of a naval officer and the Golden Cross Medal.

It was undoubtedly Daniel Steiner’s military uniform.

"Ha…"

Momentarily stunned, Hartmann stared blankly before his subordinate spoke again.

"Could he have hidden it?"

Snapping out of his daze, Hartmann nodded.

"He must have hastily buried it in the sand before leaving this place. The recent strong winds seem to have blown enough sand away to expose it."
"But why would Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Steiner do such a thing?"
"He must have realized, after being shipwrecked, that there were collaborators with enemy nations within Vellanos. To ensure his safety, it was prudent for him to conceal his identity."

Standing up and setting the uniform aside, Hartmann continued.

"Of course, that wasn’t his only reason. I’m certain Daniel Steiner deliberately used the appearance of his death to his advantage."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Sergeant Pandame, think carefully. Under the pretext of confirming Daniel Steiner’s death, we’ve brought Imperial forces into Vellanos without firing a single shot. What does that imply?"

The realization made Sergeant Pandame blink in shock.

"…It gives the Empire a significant diplomatic advantage. But why wouldn’t Lieutenant Colonel Steiner inform the Empire of this directly? He could have carried out this operation in secret."
"Daniel Steiner fundamentally doesn’t trust his allies. After all, you never know who might be a spy."

A similar incident had occurred in the Empire’s southern region.

Without informing anyone in the Empire, Daniel had single-handedly traveled south and eradicated a clandestine group supporting the imperial prince.

To deceive your enemies, deceive your allies first.

Hartmann was well aware that Daniel Steiner exemplified this principle better than anyone else.

Clicking his tongue in awe, Hartmann looked at his subordinate.

"Inform the Empire that there’s a high probability Daniel Steiner is alive. It will surely lift Her Highness the Princess’s spirits."
"Understood!"

Sergeant Pandame saluted energetically and made his way to the radio operator.

After sending off his subordinate, Hartmann looked up toward the nearby city.

Daniel Steiner was undoubtedly operating there in secret.

"I knew he wasn’t an ordinary person, but…"

Using even his own supposed death for the Empire’s benefit was beyond what Hartmann could consider human.

Swallowing dryly, he felt an inexplicable sense of reverence.

"I can’t even begin to imagine what schemes he’s planning there…"

Hartmann, struggling to think even one step ahead, couldn’t hope to keep up with the mind of a genius strategist like Daniel.