Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 348: The Preparation

As the last of the crowd dispersed from the street in front of the Justice Hall, Orion cast a glance around before motioning for Alaric and the others to follow him. He led them through a narrow alleyway, its high stone walls muffling the bustle of the city, until they reached a secluded courtyard hidden between shuttered brick buildings. There, with a heavy expression, he handed Alaric a tightly rolled scroll, sealed in crimson wax.

"This contains the names of General Odin’s closest subordinates—his deputy and five commanders," Orion said grimly. "They’re already imprisoned in the dungeon beneath the palace."

He hesitated, lips pursed, as though weighing the cost of what he would say next.

"Their wives and children have been placed under house arrest. They’ll be exiled with them to Fengsel Island." His voice was low, almost bitter. "Some of their kin attempted to smuggle them out of Savadra, but the court intervened."

"What?" Lara’s voice broke through the silence, sharp with disbelief. "Why involve the wives and children? They didn’t do anything." Alaric told her that in Northem, if a father erred, the innocent family members would not be implicated.

Orion let out a long, slow breath. "Unfortunately, the Crown Prince is a paranoid tyrant. Were it up to him, he would have purged their bloodlines entirely. But his ministers and inner council restrained him—reminded him of Northem’s ancient laws and warned him of the people’s wrath if he acted beyond what is allowed by the law."

Orion looked at Lara and added slowly, "So, he decreed that the immediate family of those soldiers should accompany them and be exiled together."

"So, did he really have my mother and sister-in-law captured?"

"Yes," Orion said, nodding. "But Lady Freya is no fool. After your father and brothers were escorted out of Carles, she fled with your sister-in-law, a few guards, and loyal maids. Orion said, nodding. They escaped into Mount Roca."

"I received word just this morning, they’ve joined your brothers and uncle, and a handful of others, in the mountains." frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

Relief washed over her. She exhaled deeply.

Jethru took the scroll from Alaric and unrolled it with practiced fingers. Lara leaned over his shoulder, scanning the names inked in precise calligraphy. Her eyes paused on one name, marked in red.

"Atalia?" she asked, brow furrowed. "Why is her name marked?"

For a moment, Orion’s eyes darkened.

"She is heavy with child, about to give birth. Her parents pleaded with the court to grant her leniency but they refused. Captain Amnon, her husband had written her a letter of divorce to dissociate himself with him but Atalia refused the divorce."

Lara’s eyes widened in shock. She remembered Amnon, the captain who had led the midnight cavalry raid on Carles, defying General Marlon Norse’s orders.

"His wife is pregnant?" Lara asked, a bit troubled. In modern times, the road that led to Fengsel Island was already difficult, how much more in this backward area centuries in the past?

She turned to her master, desperation in her eyes. "Master..."

"Don’t look at me like that," Jethru said, shaking his head. "I know exactly what you’re thinking. And no, it’s too dangerous."

But Lara’s mind had already drifted to something she remembered from two years ago. She looked at Orion with sudden hope.

"Uncle..."

...

Later, Alaric and his men split from Jethru and Lara, each racing against time to make the necessary preparations. Orion had tasks of his own—Lara’s request weighed heavily on him.

Jethru, silent and introspective, led his disciple toward Centro Escolar Alley, the heart of the city’s academic and martial training. It was lined with grand schools including martial arts academies. They stopped before a towering gate of wrought iron and stone.

Jethru stared up at the arched sign with an unreadable expression.

Zen Warriors Martial Arts Academy.

Beneath it, a smaller golden plaque gleamed: House of Cardil.

This was his master’s family legacy, built by his great-great-grandfather with sweat, sacrifice, and blood.

Through the gaps in the gate, Jethru noted that a lot had changed since the last time he was there. Newer buildings were added, and there were fewer trees around. Perhaps, Julian thought the buildings were more important than the trees, so it was okay to cut them down to make room for expansion.

While Jethru was still observing, a big, elegant carriage arrived, and the imposing gates suddenly parted, allowing the carriage to gain entry without difficulty.

"That must be someone important," Lara observed. "The guards didn’t even ask questions."

Jethru smiled faintly. "You’ve grown sharp, girl. That’s the Cardil crest on the carriage. Likely Julian, or his heir." His gaze followed the carriage as it disappeared behind the gate. "Their family crest is displayed at the front and back, as if they are afraid people would not recognize them."

Lara chuckled.

"Now that you have seen school, can we go now, Master?

"Of course." Jethru nodded. He looked back one more time before walking away.

It wasn’t the right time to take it back.

Inside the academy grounds, Julian Cardil stepped down from the carriage, pausing as his gaze drifted to the gate. He had caught sight of two unfamiliar figures moments before—an older man and a young man. Though he did not recognize their faces, there was something hauntingly familiar in the way they carried themselves.

A strange unease stirred in his chest. His hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out two smooth pebbles. Absentmindedly, he began juggling them, his eyes scanning the shadows beyond the gate.

Then he stopped.

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "Who am I searching for outside? I must be getting senile."

...

That night, long after most of the people had gone to sleep, Orion’s dining room remained alight with flickering candlelight. Around a six-seater rectangular wooden table sat a small group—tense, focused, determined.

Alaric was poring over a parchment that showed the map of the capital and the northern tip of Northem, which was the island of Fengsel.

Lara’s brows furrowed. So, Fengsel was used as a destination for exiles even in the old times. She was familiar with the path from Savadra to Fengsel. In the past, she went on a mission to save his father’s trusted spy. It was at that time that she was forced to learn how to do surgery.

Alaric marked a spot on the map with his finger—an X appeared just where the path split.

"We strike here," he said with finality. "The fork between Mount Ponte and Mount Vulcan."

"Mount Vulcan?" Lara echoed.

"An extinct volcano. Treacherous terrain, like Ourea," Alaric explained. "But if the exiles are to escape, that’s the best chance they’ll get."

The name of the volcano was the same. That extinct volcano, after centuries of slumber, awakened and wreaked havoc in Azuverda and its neighboring countries.

Lara stared at the mark on the map. The place looked so familiar.

So much depended on the next few days...

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦