Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 351: On The Way Of Suffering

Luki made a second attempt to drag the prisoners forward using a fresh horse. But again, the beast faltered mid-stride, whinnying in distress before collapsing with a wounded leg. The chain that tethered the prisoners went taut, pulling some off their feet, then it slackened.

Luki’s eyes narrowed into slits. This wasn’t a coincidence. He suspected someone was at play and making a fool of them.

Mounting yet another horse, his third one, he barked for two soldiers to ride beside him, flanking him like shields. "Protect this mount and observe the surroundings closely," he growled. His patience was fraying, and his pride even more so.

High above, half-hidden among moss-draped branches, Jethru watched . Camouflaged by his cloak, he wore a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Hmm... Not as dumb as you look after all," he muttered, amused by Luki’s new precautions.

He waited for a while, then, with the precision of a hunter and the force of a warhammer, he hurled a stone. It streaked through the air and struck the horse’s fetlock with a sickening crack.

The mount gave a shrill cry, then sank awkwardly to its belly, legs buckling beneath it as it whined in pain.

The prisoners, who learned the lesson from Luki’s cruel game, didn’t wait to be dragged. They sprinted to match the horse’s speed, but some collapsing in exhaustion.

As the chain slackened, a collective breath of relief rippled through them. Knees gave out. Backs hit the ground. Their legs, trembling and raw, barely felt like part of their bodies anymore.

Luki erupted with rage. He sent two of his fifty guards to escort the injured soldier back to town, then turned to the remaining forty-seven. "Sweep the area! Search every shadow, every bush. Someone is making fools of us!"

The guards scoured the surrounding land for nearly half an hour. Nothing. No footprints, no movement. Just the whisper of the river and the rustling of leaves. Luki’s glare swept across the bank, to the dense undergrowth cloaking the other side. He considered sending men across—but the river’s depth and swift current would delay them too long.

He spat on the ground, growled a curse, and signaled the march to resume, this time on foot.

With three horses lost and his pride bleeding, Luki needed to vent his anger—someone to punish.

He stalked to the rear of the line, eyes gleaming with venom. Without warning, he raised his whip and cracked it across the back of the last prisoner. The man, gaunt and worn, stumbled forward with a howl of pain. His boots were falling apart, held together by a piece of cloth.

Another lash tore through the prisoner’s shirt, and he screamed again.

The servant’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze locked on the captain’s back, fists clenched at her sides. But she did not move. To act now would risk everything. She forced herself to stay silent.

Luki delivered a third blow before finally striding back to the front of the line, his bloodlust momentarily sated.

"Move!" he bellowed. "Anyone who slacked will be whipped."

The prisoners scrambled to their feet and prepared to move. The man who received a few lashes was helped out by his fellow prisoner.

"Poor Nicolas. Such a good man. He is really unlucky that his wife caught the interest of a baron." Laida, the wife of one of the generals spoke softly but the servant still heard it. "The baron assaulted his wife, and Nicolas nearly killed him in retaliation.

"I heard she lost their fifth child after that," said another woman, her voice low with sympathy. "Grief broke her."

The servant drifted back, closing the gap between her and Nicolas. Without a word, she pulled a small bottle from her pack and a ball of cotton. She walked in step with him, head lowered like any humble attendant.

"This will sting, but it’ll help," she whispered, dabbing antiseptic into the torn cloth clinging to his back.

Nicolas winced but said nothing, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Keep walking like I am not beside you. I will now apply an ointment to your wound. It will lessen the pain."

Nicolas looked sideways at her—tall, plain-faced, her features marred by acne scars and sun-darkened skin. But there was something odd in her voice. It rang with quiet command, not meekness. Like a physician tending a patient.

He continued to walk, while the servant tried to make herself invisible as she applied the ointment to his wounds at the back. The servant need not lift his garment. It was torn in a lot of places, and she applied the medication to the torn part of the cloth.

"Why?" he murmured, voice rough and low. "Why are your helping me?"

"I heard your story," she replied softly. "You have to survive for your wife. For your children."

Nicolas turned fully to glimpse her face again, startled by the weight of her words. But she was gone. She already moved ahead, taking back the sidecar from Laida after thanking her.

On the other side of the river, shadows shifted, mirroring the march from beneath the trees. They moved with calculated stealth, matching the convoy’s pace.

Soon, they would reach the fork—where Mount Ponte’s cliffs met the jagged flank of Mount Vulcan. There, six more allies would join them, each positioned with care on ridges and behind boulders, ready to strike.

Elsewhere, Aramis, Agilus, and Orion followed a separate route, guarding the horses and supplies they would use after the ambush.

After a few hours of travel, as the sun dipped lower, casting stretched shadows over the trail, Captain Luki scanned the surroundings and allowed himself a rare flicker of satisfaction.

They would arrive at their designated resting place half an hour in advance.

But while Luki was pleased, the prisoners and their families were near collapse. Forced to walk fast and given barely any rest, they dragged their aching feet. Their breaths ragged and shallow.

The servant moved among them discreetly, slipping a piece of milk candy into each person’s palm—just enough sugar to keep them going a little longer. It wasn’t much, but in that moment, it was better than nothing.

Later that night, the group camped under the canopy of the Banyan tree. A guard started a fire and the scent of meat being roasted filled the air. The prisoners could only swallow and looked at the guards eating to their heart’s content.

Only the generals, whose families brought provisions, had anything to eat. The rest swallowed air as Luki did not give them their dinner’s ration. They tried to ignore the sounds of chewing and laughter.

"Don’t be envious." Nicolas elbowed the prisoner who was beside them. Like him, he was imprisoned because he assaulted a noble who attempted to rape his sister. "It is better that our family is not with us. Don’t you know how dangerous Fengsel is?"

Nicolas looked at the dark sky. No stars were visible. It was as if even the stars were ashamed to look at them, so they hid behind the clouds.

He looked toward the north in the darkness.

"Only one in ten survives that place."

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