Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 347: The Chaos After The Verdict

Panic erupted. Screams filled the air. There was utter chaos.

Knights shielded the prince and his two wives.

Guards surged forward, weapons drawn. Shouts echoed against the four corners of the hall. People screamed and shoved toward the exits as panic rippled through the crowd like wildfire.

"Seal the gates!"

"Protect the crown prince!"

"Find the assassin!"

The air was thick with confusion and fear. Ministers stumbled down from the dais, as they shoved one another, robes snagging in their haste.

The nobles tripped over one another, some falling to the marble floor as guards swept through, indiscriminately shoving them aside.

At the center of it all, General Odin remained still, like a mountain amidst a landslide. His sons, like him stood unperturbed.

Amidst the chaos, Espiyor, dazed, stared at his hand and leg in shock. They throbbed with pain, yet bore no wounds, just a strange swelling, as though struck by invisible force.

He scrambled upright, only to collapse again.

"I—I’m fine. Just... not feeling well," he muttered, humiliated.

The chaos and the blur of activities around him suddenly stilled.

Lord Malik glared at him. How could a big man like him fall face down like that? He should have pretended to be attacked by assassins. Now, where will he hide his face as many accusing gazes went his way?

"Damn! My back hurts from the shoving! And all for a false alarm."

"I think I sprained my ankle."

"My robe is ruined."

Malik’s face turned from red to purple and then white. He wished that a hole would appear in front of him, and he would disappear into it.

As order started to return, a man in white robes bent beside Espiyor, steadying him with a hand.

It was Julian Cardil. His master.

The martial arts master silently plucked two small, gleaming pebbles from the ground—stones that hadn’t been there moments ago.

His eyes scanned the sea of panicked faces, calm and calculating.

He was searching, but found nothing.

He attended the last day of the trial, wanting to discern whether the general and his sons were indeed guilty of the charges against them. He came to watch General Odin’s misfortune. He remembered that he was one of Jethru’s earliest disciples, and anyone associated with that man was his enemy.

His eyes landed on the two pebbles on his palm. He could still feel the warmth in them, as if someone had been holding them with enough force to transfer such heat.

Could it be that someone intentionally hit Espiyor with those two pebbles? Who could it be? He saw the swelling on Espiyor’s hand and he could tell how much force was applied to result to such injury.

Who could it be?

Prime Minister Grio barked orders to restore order.

"Take the prisoners back to the dungeon!" Grio said, spit flying from his lips. His calm facade had cracked, now he was a man cornered by fear and fury. It was a false alarm, but he did not want to take a risk. "Double the guards! Don’t let them speak another word!"

The guards lunged.

A guard grabbed Odin by the arm. He didn’t resist, but his eyes, burning with restrained fury, met the man’s with such force that the soldier hesitated.

"Move him!" another snapped.

More hands joined in, yanking Odin’s arms behind his back, binding him with iron cuffs that bit into his skin. One of them shoved him forward. He staggered but straightened instantly, never giving them the satisfaction of seeing him fall.

General Odin threw one last glance at the hooded figure at the back. Even from a distance, he saw the rage in her eyes, and his heart clenched. He did not want his daughter to see them humiliated like this, but it was out of his control.

Asael and Galahad growled and tried to step toward their father, but two knights stopped them, each with spearheads that touched their throats. Bener and Percival were dragged roughly down the steps, Percival limping, his hollow gaze unfazed by the chaos.

The platform was cleared in a storm of steel and angry shouts. Odin and his sons were forced down the corridor that led into the dungeon.

As the massive doors of the justice hall were being shut, Lara clenched her fists beneath her cloak. Her chest heaved, heart a drumbeat of fury and grief.

A strong hand reached and grasped her right hand. On her left, she felt a comforting tap on her shoulder.

Not yet. A whisper reached her ears. Not now. But soon.

Before the doors were totally sealed, her father’s voice, loud and crystal clear, lingered in the air, like an omen etched into stone.

"Remember this day..."

Reuben sat frozen on his throne, white-knuckled, as if still hearing Odin’s voice echoing in his skull. His knights urged him to leave the hall through the back entrance.

Marlon, who was unusually silent and watched from the background, shuddered. He intentionally made himself inconspicuous during today’s proceedings. After all, everyone knew that he was Odin’s cousin. He could not openly show that he was celebrating.

But hearing Odin’s warnings, he had an ominous feeling.

Mira was similarly troubled, but she brushed it aside. Her plans were in motion, and she was on the right track.

...

In the dungeon beneath the palace, down in the stone corridors, the air turned cold and musty. The general and his sons were led into a different section of the dungeon, the one allotted to convicted criminals.

The shouts from the justice hall faded behind them, replaced by the sound of clanking chains and distant moans of other prisoners. Torches lined the damp, moss-slick walls. Water dripped from somewhere unseen. It smelled of mildew, blood, and despair.

"Into the cells," the captain ordered.

The guards unlocked the heavy doors. Odin was pushed inside the darkest cell. Iron bars slammed shut behind him with a finality that rang through the stone.

His sons were thrown into neighboring cells, close enough to see one another, but not to touch.

General Odin leaned against the wall, letting out a slow, controlled breath. His body ached. His pride had been battered. But his will remained intact.

Because he had seen her.

Because she was here, and he could guess the identity of those two men standing beside her.

Was he ashamed to admit that he relied on his daughter to save them?

Of course not! He was proud of his daughter. He and his sons knew how formidable she was.

Reuben and everyone who shamed them in the justice hall would soon regret it.

The day of reckoning has come.

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