Who Pronounced Death?
Who Pronounced Death?
Having spent one more day at the hospital, Daniel completed his discharge procedures and stepped outside.
Bathed in the pouring sunlight, Daniel caught his breath and slowly raised a hand to touch his forehead.
It was the very spot where he had been struck by a brick two days ago.
'They said it was real.......'
Yesterday, after sending Bölm away, Daniel had been trying to get some rest in his hospital room when he received an unwelcome visitor.
Tom, whom he had not summoned, barged into the room and immediately fell to his knees, shouting apologies.
Having no idea what he was talking about, Daniel had demanded an explanation, and Tom informed him that 'someone else had thrown a brick before I did.'
In other words, Daniel had been struck by a real brick, not a fake one.
'No wonder it bled so much and hurt so strangely.......'
It was fortunate that the brick had only grazed his forehead as it passed. Had it struck him head-on, he might not have been standing here now.
'How absurd.'
Rationally speaking, no one among the protesters should have resorted to violence.
Most of the protesters were likely acting on behalf of the noble faction, and committing an act of violence against Daniel Steiner—their political enemy—in a public place would have put them in an extremely disadvantageous position.
Even if the brick had severely wounded Daniel and sent him into a coma, they would not have been able to escape Selvia's wrath.
Selvia would have used military force under the pretext of investigating those behind the attack on the war hero Daniel Steiner, thereby achieving a more robust centralization of power.
'And yet.......'
It was simply bewildering that someone had acted on emotion and thrown the brick.
Still, from Daniel's perspective, it was not a bad thing.
He had heard that the brick-thrower had been caught in the act.
According to the report, the person was a high-ranking organizer who not only helped arrange the protest but also took a leading role in directing it, so Daniel was rather pleased.
'Since a verifiable insider committed the act of violence, the nobles won't be able to refute it.'
Originally, they might have responded with something like 'Daniel Steiner's staged act has gone too far,' but the moment an insider was arrested in the act, they had no choice but to keep their mouths shut.
'If the Empire's largest newspaper is forced into silence.......'
It would plant a seed of doubt in the public's mind that the Imperial Daily might have been writing biased articles under noble patronage.
Even if they reported on the incident in a half-hearted manner—since they could not afford to be branded a biased newspaper—it did not matter much.
That would be tantamount to admitting the violent nature of the anti-war protests themselves.
'It would be like permanently losing one means of attacking me.'
It was just as Daniel was inwardly satisfied, thinking he would benefit either way.
"Oh my! Lieutenant Colonel Daniel!"
At the familiar voice, he turned his head to see Belaph, dressed in a pastoral robe.
Frien was at his side.
Belaph approached and spoke with exaggerated concern.
"When I heard you were injured, I was terribly worried. Thank goodness you look perfectly fine. Are you feeling any discomfort at all? If you need anything, I will arrange it all, so please do not hesitate to ask."
Though Belaph spoke in a worried tone, his true intentions were transparent.
He wanted to forge a connection with Daniel in advance, since Daniel might establish himself as the Empire's new power broker.
It was a quintessentially opportunistic attitude, but since Daniel had never expected anything from Belaph anyway, he simply responded with indifference.
"I don't need anything at the moment. I intend to go straight to the Imperial Capital."
"Excuse me? You could afford to rest a little..."
"There's less than a week left until the coronation. I must report the results of my inspection to the Imperial Household before the ceremony, so I cannot afford to dawdle here."
Cannot afford to dawdle? Was this something a man who had been struck in the head by a brick just two days ago could say?
Letting out a hollow sigh, Belaph looked at Daniel as if beholding a superhuman iron man.
Feeling burdened by that gaze, Daniel coughed dryly and turned toward Frien.
"Frien. You were the one who treated me. I hadn't gotten around to thanking you in the confusion..."
"It's fine. I feel as though your words just now have repaid me."
Frien's gentle reply felt subtly uncanny.
'When seen like this, she really does seem like a perfectly normal woman.......'
Thinking it would have been nice if she hadn't been tainted by strange ideologies, Daniel shook his head.
In this era, soldiers steeped in nationalism were a dime a dozen.
Frien's case was admittedly a bit extreme, but there was no need to lecture someone who had just helped him.
"It seems I have a fine subordinate. Your healing magic has an effect that would surprise even a doctor, so continue to hone your skills."
The reason Frien would later come to be called the Saint of the Empire was precisely because of this healing ability.
While ordinary healing magic could only produce effects at the level of basic first aid, Frien could perform miracles that healed wounds completely.
He had never been wounded before, so he had lacked any opportunity to confirm Frien's abilities, but seeing her heal his brick-torn forehead in such a short time made him think: a saint truly was a saint.
"If Lieutenant Colonel Daniel says so......."
Perhaps pleased by the compliment, Frien smiled faintly.
"I will devote all of my time outside working hours to the study of healing magic."
"No. That's not quite what I meant..."
"Please allow me. I wish to be of help to you, Lieutenant Colonel Daniel."
......He felt as though he had said something wrong.
While Daniel hesitated to answer with an uncomfortable expression, Belaph interjected.
"Lieutenant Colonel Daniel. Might I say something?"
Thinking the timing was perfect, Daniel nodded, and Belaph continued.
"Are we not now in the same boat, the Glory's Holy Flame Cathedral and Lieutenant Colonel Daniel? In that spirit, if you would share your objective with us, I believe we could be of great help."
Daniel fell into thought for a moment.
An objective, was it.
Unwanted events had kept piling up, and as he struggled desperately to survive, he had been swept into the storm of history—but the core objective itself had not changed much.
The breeze blowing under the clear sky felt refreshing.
With his eyes closed, Daniel savored the sensation of the wind touching his skin and scattering, then moved his lips slightly.
"Peace."
His eyes slowly opened, and he faced Belaph with a faint smile.
"My objective is to lead an everyday life in a peace so idyllic and tranquil it would be boring."
At this, Belaph could only manage an awkward laugh.
"I—I see."
Daniel's words about wanting peace sounded like a complete lie to him.
'If you don't want to tell me, you could just say so.......'
Daniel had meant it sincerely, but Belaph simply could not believe that Daniel—who had led countless battles to victory, engaged in political machinations, and delivered the Total War Speech—could possibly wish for peace.
*
That night.
At the residence of Baron Hendliem.
"Damn it all! Why won't anyone believe me...!"
Hendliem snapped irritably as he opened the door to his residence.
As he removed his coat to hand it to a servant, Hendliem sensed something strange.
The servant who normally would have approached him by now, remarking that he must have had a hard day, was nowhere to be seen.
Even the hallway lights had not been turned on.
Instead of making the foolish mistake of calling the servant's name, Hendliem scanned the dark residence and began to walk slowly.
'......Someone has broken into my residence.'
However, there were no signs that the servants had been attacked by an intruder.
That in turn suggested that whoever had broken in was already acquainted with the servants.
'Did they use my name to send everyone home early? Why?'
Feeling an inexplicable displeasure, Hendliem climbed the stairs of his residence.
The creaking of the old staircase sounded especially eerie today.
With his coat draped over one arm, Hendliem walked down the hallway to his room, grabbed the doorknob, and opened it.
Peering inside through the gap, he saw a man sitting in front of his desk, reading a newspaper.
It was Plat, the man who worked as his informant.
Relieved at last, Hendliem opened the door and stepped inside.
"So it was you. If we had something urgent to discuss, you should have contacted me in advance..."
Plat did not answer and kept reading his newspaper.
Hendliem found this suspicious, but since the man's occasional rudeness was nothing new, he decided not to remark on it.
"But what brings you here today..."
About to sit down, Hendliem froze as he was draping his coat over the desk chair.
Because a suicide note lay on the desk.
And it was written in a hand that imitated Hendliem's own penmanship.
Seeing the pistol placed beside the note, Hendliem's eyes trembled as he looked at Plat.
"......What the hell is this?"
Plat answered, turning a page of the newspaper.
"It's exactly what it looks like. Please commit suicide."
Because Plat had spoken such shocking words with such perfect indifference, Hendliem's mind went numb.
As if to show him consideration, Plat added a further explanation.
"His Grace has named Baron Hendliem as a traitor. Therefore, you must take responsibility."
"......A traitor? Me? What absurd slander are you spouting now!?"
"Slander, you say?"
Plat let out a low laugh.
"When Daniel Steiner himself came out to defend you, can it be dismissed as mere slander?"
"That's... that bastard was simply scheming to isolate me!"
"His Grace tried to interpret it that way as well. He went out of his way to give Baron Hendliem the benefit of the doubt, as much as possible. But you see."
Plat folded the newspaper and tossed it onto the desk.
"What is this?"
What did the newspaper matter? Hendliem lowered his gaze and saw the front-page headline.
【Anti-war Protesters Turn into a Mob, Yet Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Steiner Shows Them Compassion】
Beneath the headline was a photo of Daniel Steiner, bleeding from the forehead, embracing and comforting someone who appeared to be a protester.
As Hendliem stared blankly at the article, Plat spoke.
"The protesters fell under Baron Hendliem's jurisdiction. Am I correct?"
It was not incorrect.
Baron Hendliem was the one who had been secretly providing funds to the protesters, after all.
"And yet, violence erupted at that protest. Aimed at Daniel Steiner, no less."
His breathing shook.
Regaining as much composure as he could, Hendliem raised his head.
"So what of it? If this too is Daniel Steiner's scheme—"
"Baron. That's enough."
Cutting Hendliem off, Plat let out a sigh.
"I'm told the person who threw the brick was arrested in the act. When we investigated his identity, he turned out to be a high-ranking organizer who had been active in the protest movement for a very long time."
"......."
"His Grace, of course, and other highly placed individuals are now questioning whether this might not be 'something Baron Hendliem cooked up in league with Daniel Steiner.'"
Plat scratched his head as though he found it regrettable.
"Thanks to that, His Grace was furious, declaring that he could no longer use the anti-war protests to attack Daniel Steiner. Everything was finished the moment the protest's high-ranking officer was caught red-handed."
"Wait. Let me explain—"
"Even if one were to argue that Daniel Steiner had bribed the protest officer, you still could not escape His Grace's wrath. That would merely mean you had performed your assigned duties so sloppily."
Having said his piece, Plat rose from his chair and straightened his clothes.
"I'll give you plenty of time. I'll be waiting beyond the door, so if there's anything in the suicide note you wish to revise, please let me know."
With those words, Plat bowed his head once, then turned and walked out.
Only after he heard the door close did Hendliem let out a hollow breath.
"Ah......."
His trembling gaze fixed on the picture of Daniel Steiner printed on the front page.
After capturing Kembel, Daniel Steiner had used the media to isolate Hendliem politically.
He had made the other nobles grow suspicious of Hendliem and distance themselves from him.
Before those suspicions could even be resolved, he had come down to the south this time, clashed directly with the protesters, and drawn out their violence.
'And on top of that.......'
By bribing the protest organizer.
How he had managed to bribe that person was impossible to know.
But Daniel Steiner had pulled it off, and as a result, Hendliem had lost all credibility.
"Ahh......."
Strength drained from his body, Hendliem staggered.
The man smiling more kindly than anyone in that newspaper photograph—this man was using demonic cunning to drive Hendliem, a complete stranger to him, to his death.
Fallen into a bottomless despair, Hendliem eventually crumpled to the floor.
Within his defeat-stained mind, Hendliem wept softly, clenching his teeth.
'Though it was the Duke who ordered me to die.......'
He cursed the fact that the one driving him to death was none other than Daniel Steiner.