Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 350: The Exiles 2

When the sun reached its zenith—veiled behind thick, brooding clouds—the exiles arrived at a remote settlement known as Ma-Anyag.

The town took its name from a nearby peak, a strikingly symmetrical mountain in the Alta-Sierra range. Unlike the jagged cliffs that dominated the range, this mountain stood apart, a perfect cone of lush greenery that gave the illusion of serenity. Its gentle incline invited the imagination to picture a child’s joyful slide down its slope. To its side loomed the rugged walls of Mount Ponte, casting long shadows over the land like ancient sentinels.

The road followed by the exiles was beside a river, and there was an old oak tree whose canopy covered a large area, providing a suitable spot for them to rest for a quick lunch.

The prisoners were each given a piece of bread and a small amount of water. The bread was very hard; it could scratch one’s throat if swallowed hastily.

Despite his stern demeanor, the captain of the guards had not yet lost all sense of compassion. He permitted the prisoners’ families to provide food and water, choosing not to confiscate the small offerings they managed to bring.

Atalia’s servant distributed a food pack wrapped in a cleaned banana leaf to the five men of the Norse family. It contained a medium-sized bread with a meat filling. As a gesture of goodwill, she gave the first pack to the captain.

When she turned to General Odin and handed him his portion, their eyes met briefly. In that flicker of connection, she caught a glimmer of the man he once was. He nodded with a quiet "Thank you," the words roughened by fatigue and pride.

She lingered the longest with Percival, who looked like a shell of his former self. He was greatly impacted by the ordeal, which left an emotional and psychological scar on him.

"Things will get better," the servant said gently before handing him the wrapped food and the bamboo tube filled with water.

Percival lifted his gaze. For a heartbeat, he stared into her blemished face, his eyes drawn first to the acne-scars dotting her cheeks—then to her eyes, bright and kind. Something stirred in him. She reminded him of his sister. His lips twitched upward in the barest of smiles. That simple human connection, unexpected and unguarded, helped loosen the knot in his chest and returned his appetite.

She moved to Amnon, and before she could hand the food to him, he bowed to her, a servant, and repeatedly said, "Thank you."

"Captain, I am just a servant. It is my duty," the woman said hastily before moving to the next person.

At the final handoff, the rest of the prisoners watched her with a mix of envy and yearning, chewing their rock-hard bread slowly, eyes locked on her every move.

The servant hesitated, a pang of guilt stabbing at her. She wasn’t a saint—just a girl with a task—but even she could see the hunger in their faces. She dug into her knapsack and found a bag of milk candies she had intended for children. Without much thought, she distributed three pieces to each of the remaining prisoners.

The servant was flustered to hear the endless thank yous. It was just a candy. She then realized that even the hardest of criminals, when shown a little bit of kindness, could be grateful.

The exiles were allowed to wash themselves quickly in the river. After that, a new group of guards arrived.

Only then did General Odin learned that the guards that escorted them from the capital were only tasked to guard them until Ma-Anyag. A new captain and a set of guards will escort them moving forward.

When the generals saw who the captain was, their hearts sank. He was Captain Luki, a former bandit leader who had surrendered and was assigned to lead the escorts of prisoners being exiled.

He was known for his ruthlessness and did not care a damn about the welfare of the prisoners. For as long as he could deliver the exiles at the destination alive, that’s what he was after. It did not matter whether the person had complete limbs or was gravely injured or terminally sick -- as long as the person was alive.

After the handover, the other group left without turning back.

"Everyone, get ready. We leave right away. I don’t like to be caught up in the rain." He said, looking up at the darkening sky.

After barking out his orders, he did not give the prisoners a chance to prepare. Since the chain was tethered to him, when he spurred the horse into a gallop, even General Odin, who had strong martial arts skills, stumbled; how much more the other ordinary prisoners?

From the tree line, far above the trail, shadows crouched beneath the low-hanging branches of trees. Their movement kept pace with the procession.

When a horse galloped and agonized screams of the prisoners being dragged echoed through the trees and the slopes of Ma-Anyag, a shadow shifted and shot forward, overtaking the horse who was slowed down by the burden behind him.

Luki raised his whip and hit the horse’s body. The horse reared, its front hooves raised in the air, readying itself for another gallop.

However, when its hooves landed on the ground, its feet buckled, and the horse crumbled to the ground, throwing the captain forward, and he landed on the dirt road face down. The gravel grazed his face, and dust went into his mouth.

"Damn It! Investigate what happened to the horse." Luki shouted while scrambling on his feet.

A guard scrambled to help him up. It took a lot of effort for the guard to restrain himself from laughing when he saw the captain’s scratched face. Dirt colored his teeth black, and the sides of his mouth were also covered with dirt,

"Captain, your face," he said, keeping an expressionless face.

It was only then that Luki felt the awful taste in his mouth and felt the sting on his face. Luki spat grit and marched to the river to wash up while his men examined the fallen animal.

No wounds were visible, but when they tried to make the horse stand, it limped badly. One guard pressed on its knee joint—and the horse whined in pain. Reflexively, it kicked out with its good leg.

The guard was thrown back like a ragdoll, colliding with a tree. Bones cracked. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

The horse, panicked and lashing out in every direction, could not be calmed. Luki, seething, drew his sword and ended it with a single, brutal strike.

From behind a tree at a short distance away, a man whose white hair was tucked neatly under a black turban let go of a black stone the size of his fist and sneered.

"Dare to hurt and humiliate my first disciple with such a weak horse? Dream on!"

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