Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 368: Their New World

As the group made their way toward the heart of Calma, they were captivated by the unexpected vibrancy of the streets. A steady stream of trykes and bikes zipped past them, weaving gracefully between stone buildings and shaded alleyways. Though the streets were still paved with cobblestones, the roads had been refined—smoother now thanks to a careful blend of limestone, clay, marl, gypsum, iron ore, and silica—the same materials used in modern cement. The mixture gave the roads a polished finish that glistened faintly under the sun.

Hephaestus, the genius that he was, had long transcended simple metal smelting; metallurgy, architecture, and engineering—anything that turned raw material into a new form, he embraced with fervent curiosity.

Not far from the original town center, a new heart of civilization pulsed—Calma’s rebirth. Alaric had spearheaded its development a few kilometers from the old settlement. With Lara’s blueprint rooted in modern zoning principles, and Alaric’s architectural instincts, they had fashioned a new capital that was both ancient and avant-garde—a seamless blend of ancient charm and modern order.

The women in the group stared in disbelief at what unfolded before them. Broad, orderly avenues stretched ahead, lined with trees and two-story buildings that bore both stone archways and glass facades. Carriages and horses kept to designated lanes, while bicycles and trykes pedaled by citizens had their own smooth, dedicated paths.

"How do they have so many bikes and trykes?" Layka asked, her voice full of awe as she craned her neck to take in the panorama. "Even the capital never had this many."

"You should ask, all these were done in two years? Wasn’t Prince Alaric banished only two years ago? How could he build something like this in just a short span?" Laida asked.

"Perhaps, he employed many people. Besides, there are only a few buildings. Look over there. They are still building." Zeeta pointed toward the south. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

Their journey took them down a bustling boulevard flanked by shops. One entire stretch was devoted to fabric merchants and clothing boutiques. Wooden mannequins dressed in vibrant garments stood proudly behind glass windows. One display featured skirts with wide hems, almost resembling trousers—reminiscent of the ones Lara sometimes wore.

"Mother, the clothes are so beautiful," young Yohana whispered, tugging on Zeeta’s arm as she gazed at a cream-colored dress displayed prominently in the window of the largest shop.

Zeeta lifted her eyes to the sign above the shop’s doorway: Gabriella’s.

"Mother, does that mean the owner is named Gabriella?" Yohana asked with sparkling eyes. "When Father arrives, can we go and take a look?"

A shadow flickered across Zeeta’s face. Her heart was heavy with worry—her husband was still out there, somewhere, leading soldiers away from danger. But for her daughter’s sake, she softened her expression into a gentle smile. "Yes, my love. After we rest, we’ll come back and see."

Meanwhile, Lara had taken it upon herself to provide shelter for the four women and their children. Amnon, quiet and obedient, followed his wife Atalia—his presence more like a shadow than a man.

Jethru offered a place to Logan and his family. There was something in Logan’s bearing that caught his eye—a quiet wildness, the spirit of a wolf. Brave and unyielding. Someone worthy to become his disciple.

Alaric, for his part, welcomed the ex-prisoners into his fold, including Nicolas. He had plans for them—training them to become knights, guards, or soldiers, each according to their aptitude.

As the group’s procession turned down a new road, Lara waved cheerfully. "Master, I’ll come visit tomorrow!"

Alaric instructed Agilus to oversee the ex-prisoners, then unexpectedly joined Lara in her carriage. It bore his golden crest.

"You?" Lara blinked, surprised. "Why are you here?"

"I am sending you home," Alaric answered casually as he settled beside her.

Atalia and Amnon shared the carriage as well—Lara’s was the most comfortable. Atalia, still recovering from childbirth, needed the smoothest ride possible. Amnon, awkward and unsure, tried to shrink into a corner, feeling like an intruder in a world far more refined than the one he had left

Amnon did not know what to do, so he tried to make himself inconspicuous as he moved farther into the corner.

...

By the time they arrived at Lara’s manor, the sun had begun its descent, casting golden light across the building’s walls. The entire structure glowed, as though it had been gilded by the hand of a deity.

The children squealed with delight as the carriages rolled to a stop. In the second carriage, Zeeta, Layka, and Laida looked up in awe, their eyes wide.

"Mother, is that the house of a fairy?" asked Laida’s four-year-old daughter, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No, sweetheart," Laida replied with a smile. "That’s your big sister’s house."

The children had begun to call Lara "Big Sister," and Percival, "Big Brother," as if the bond had always been there.

A crown gathered excitedly by the entrance, their faces alight with anticipation. Freya, her eyes sparkling with joy, stood alongside Gideon, whose broad shoulders gave him a reassuring presence. Peredur leaned against the wall, a gentle smile playing on his lips, while Reya’s laughter rang like music in the air, brightening the atmosphere.

Among them, Arabella stood with a glow that only a mother-to-be possesses, her hands resting protectively on her rounded belly. As Lara alighted from the carriage, the crowd surged forward, and she was swept into a whirlwind of affectionate embraces.

"Mother," she said with emotion. "How are you?"

Freya smiled, but her eyes darted anxiously to the other carriages. Her face fell when she saw only women and children. Arabella, too, stood stiff with concern.

"Your father... and your brothers?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Lara nodded solemnly. "We were pursued near Hainai. Father split us into two groups—he and the others led the soldiers away. But they’ll return. I’m sure of it."

She turned to Arabella, letting her gaze drift to her swollen belly. "And you, Sis? How are you and the baby?"

Arabella exhaled slowly, placing a hand on her belly. "Restless. Just like its mother."

Lara smiled, but her mind was already reaching out—into the woods, down the roads, where the rest of her family still fought to survive.

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