Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 343: Heroes Betrayed 2

Mira’s hands trembled at her sides, clutching the folds of her white dress as though the silk could shield her from Odin’s wrath. Her lips parted to speak, to deny, to defend—but no words came. The truth, once hidden beneath veils of sweet pretenses, now hung naked in the air, and she was totally exposed.

Marlon Norse stood from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate. "You speak of shadows and conspiracies, cousin," he said, his voice calm, yet lined with the practiced poise of a seasoned manipulator. "But shadows cannot stand as proof. What you’re accusing me of—"

"—is something only the guilty would try to bury with words," Odin cut in sharply, his voice rising like a storm on the verge of breaking. "Where was Mira when my daughter was taken? Why did no ransom ever come? And why, Marlon, did your own lands expand in influence the same year Lara vanished?"

Gasps rippled through the room, faint and scattered, like embers leaping from dry wood. The ministers exchanged nervous glances. Lord Solanio cleared his throat but did not speak. Duval, the Duke of Edenia shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Crown Prince Reuben narrowed his eyes, trying to seize control of the moment. "Enough of this madness. You think to deflect your crimes with baseless accusations? You mock this court with tales of treachery and ghosts."

"I do not speak in tales, Your Highness," Odin replied, now eerily calm. "I speak in blood and truth. And I fear, Your Highness, you are surrounded by men who see the crown as a prize, not a responsibility."

Reuben stood. "You will hold your tongue, General, or I shall see it cut from your mouth."

Odin didn’t flinch. "Then strike me down, Your Highness. Prove that the crown you wear was never meant to hold fear—only wisdom."

A moment of pure stillness.

General Odin with his back straight and head held high continued. "Your Highness, If we are a stench before your eyes, or if we are a stumbling block to someone else’s ambitions, then we would gladly return to you the title and everything that your father had given us. But do not sully our name and our legacy with the lies that your court have concocted."

The Justice hall descended into silence.

The court ministers looked everywhere else but Odin’s eyes. They feel that a sword was stabbing at their hearts and they could hardly breathe. freewёbnoνel.com

"Insolent! Drag them to the dungeon!" Reuben barked his order furiously. The knights falter but eventually escorted the Norse men instead of dragging them to the dungeon.

...

The Justice Hall had emptied, but the echoes of what transpired still clung to the walls like smoke after battle. The nobles returned to their manors under tight guard. Ministers whispered in corridors, their eyes wide with fear and calculations. The kingdom was tilting, and the old alliances were breaking. They did not know why the heir to the throne wanted the downfall of the Norse family. Wasn’t he afraid that if there was a war, Northem would lose? Of course, there were other generals, but who could beat General Odin and his sons in terms of strategy and bravery?

General Odin sat cross-legged in the corner of his cell. His sons were held in the cell beside him. At least they were together. He worried about his daughter-in-law, Asael’s wife, who was heavy with child, and Freya, who was left in Carles.

But no, his wife was brilliant. She would feel that something was wrong with how they were forcibly escorted out of their mansion in Carles, and he hoped they would leave and head to Calma, where Lara was. He was thankful that his other sons, Gideon and Peredur, were with Lara.

Footsteps echoed on the narrow corridor of the dungeon.

Marlon Norse stepped into view, clad in the dark greens and golden doublet. His cloak swept behind him like a shadow. His face—always hard and drawn—now carried some pride.

"I came to find you, cousin." Marlon said.

Odin didn’t turn.

"I knew you’d follow. Vultures always circle what they think is dying."

Marlon exhaled through his nose, a wry smirk playing on his lips. "You were always brilliant. That’s why they loved you. The war hero. The family man. The devoted husband of one wife. The loyal dog of the king." He took a few slow steps forward. "But you were never a player, Odin. You protected Northem with your sword—but never realized it was your own house that was slipping out from under your feet."

"It was the snake that you put into my house." Odin replied coldly. "And you got me there. But don’t think that you have won, Marlon." Odin turned now, slowly, and the torchlight danced in his eyes. "You lost and hasn’t realized it yet."

"I haven’t lost anything," Marlon said, his voice sharp. "You’ve only stirred the pot. Reuben is shaken, yes, but not broken. The court will stabilize. The council will bicker. And then they’ll turn on you, because that’s what they do when someone lost his value."

"And what will you do, Marlon?" Odin asked. "Stand behind Reuben and whisper commands until he gives you my lands? My men? Until the entire Norse legacy belongs to you?"

Marlon’s eyes darkened. "It already belonged to me. I don’t have to do anything. My daughter will hand it to me in a silver platter."

Odin chuckled.

Marlon was irked.

"Your daughter is stupid while mine is cunning. Do you know why Reuben hated you so much?" He paused waiting for Odin to answer but the general remained silent. "Because, he wanted Lara to be his crown princess. But she and you are stupid enough to defy him."

Odin remained silent, just waiting for him to continue.

"And do you know why I hated you so much? My father was the elder Norse," Marlon continued. "But yours was the one crowned with glory, made general, given lands, given command. I got a family name that meant nothing until I carved it into something useful."

There it was.

The wound. The truth beneath decades of diplomacy and fake toasts at family feasts.

"Your father is a coward while mine valiantly fought in wars. The glory and honor that you were envious of, my father paid it with his life." Odin paused and his piercing gaze held that of his cousin’s until he pulled away.

"You said you carved it with blood," Odin replied, stepping forward. "The color of that blood is black and I am ashamed to share the same last name as you. You do not deserve to be a Norse." Odin spat out the words.

"You!" Marlon’s eyes bulged from anger.

"You let Mira grow into a viper under my roof. You orchestrated my daughter’s abduction—your niece, Marlon. And you used your daughter to poison the court against me."

"She wasn’t supposed to live," Marlon hissed, his composure fracturing for the first time. "That was Mira’s failure. Not mine."

The words were out before he realized, and the silence that followed was deafening.

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