Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 369: Fighting To Rejoin The Family

The atmosphere at the manor shifted quickly from joyful reunion to tense anticipation. Though Lara maintained a composed demeanor, every glance toward the horizon carried the unspoken question: Where are they?

Inside the grand hall of the manor, warmth and light greeted the weary travelers. The high ceilings arched like cathedral vaults, their ribs carved with vines and dragons—a blend of ancient craftsmanship and modern elegance. Colored glass windows painted streaks of red, blue, and amber across the polished stone floor.

Servants appeared, quiet and efficient, taking cloaks and preparing hot water. Trays of warm bread, fruit, herbal tea, and fruit juices were set out for the guests. The children ate eagerly, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten, while the women settled onto cushioned benches and chairs, eyes still wide at the splendor around them.

Atalia was taken to a quiet room near the rear courtyard, where a midwife waited to check on her recovery. Lara ensured everything was arranged—soft linens, clean water, and a comfortable bed. Amnon stayed by his wife’s side, taking care of her and their son.

Zeeta stood near a window, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She watched as shadows lengthened in the garden below. "It’s beautiful," she murmured, not to anyone in particular. "I never imagined such peace."

"It won’t last," Layka said quietly beside her. "Not until we know the men are safe."

Zeeta nodded, her throat too tight for words.

...

In the library of his palace, Alaric stood beside a massive map stretched across the wall. He had summoned his commanders. Agilus entered first, followed by two scouts freshly returned from the Hainai route.

"Still no sign of them?" Alaric asked, eyes never leaving the map.

"None, Your Highness," one of the scouts replied. "We found tracks heading south, but then they disappeared into the marshland."

Alaric narrowed his eyes. "He knows what he’s doing," he said softly, as if reassuring himself. "General Odin wouldn’t be caught easily."

Agilus stepped closer. "Shall I send a search party?"

"No," Alaric said. "Not yet. The moment we send scouts into the mountains, we’ll attract attention. If General Odin and his group wanted a trail, he would have left one."

He tapped the map. "Instead, reinforce the eastern watchtowers. If they emerge from the forest, we’ll see them."

...

Meanwhile, at the slopes of Mount Ourea.

The first sound the escapees heard was hooves—many of them and closing in fast.

"Positions!" Odin roared. Asael and Galahad were already atop the outcrop, crouched near boulders they’d loosened earlier. Below, Bener and Ramil held spears and crossbows.

General Odin was in the center of the path, his cloak fluttering like a banner. He had a blade in one hand and a spear in the other. His face was calm, unreadable.

Then came the soldiers.

The first of Commander Balder Vidal’s men (Odin’s deputy general, turned traitor) rounded the bend, and the rocks came down. A huge stone slammed into the lead horse’s flank, sending it crashing into the rider behind. Chaos erupted as three more riders tried to push through, only to meet Odin’s waiting spear.

General Kellan dashed forward, slashing low and fast. The first rider to fall to his blade didn’t even see him coming.

"Hold the line!" Odin bellowed.

Steel rang against steel. Dust clouded the narrow pass. Screams echoed off the cliff walls as the soldiers realized they could not break through quickly.

Odin’s team did not aim to kill. They aimed to incapacitate, so the soldiers could not pursue them. They were Northem soldiers after all.

Balder Vidal has not shown up yet. He was waiting, watching, gauging the resistance. He saw Odin at the front, and Galahad cutting through his men with the precision of a soldier.

Back at the rear, Bener sprinted to the vanguard with grim news.

"They’re trying to scale the cliff walls—two of them made it halfway up before Ramil shot them down."

"They’re flanking," Odin growled. "We don’t have much time."

He looked at Bener. "Go. Now."

"I’m not—"

Odin shoved him. "That’s an order. Get the others out. Don’t make me waste this defense for nothing."

"No, we stay together and fight them," Bener replied stubbornly.

...

Balder’s patience was thinning. Another volley of rocks and arrows stalled his advance. The escapees were organized and disciplined. But then, most of them were commanders, someone not to be underestimated..

"Enough of this," he hissed. "Torch the trees. Smoke them out from the ledge."

The deputy pulled a firebomb from his satchel and lit the fuse. With a grunt, he hurled it at the dry underbrush just beneath the outcrop where Asael and Galahad were positioned.

A fire exploded in a wash of red and orange. Smoke billowed instantly, rising into the wind.

"Fall back!" Asael shouted. "We’re exposed!"

Asael leapt down first, landing hard on the path below. Galahad followed, coughing through the thickening smoke.

"What the hell, is he stupid?" Odin bellowed. "We cannot leave or else the entire forest will burn."

"Let them think that we are running away." General Cobar suggested. Cobar used to be the lieutenant in charge of a covert operation, but then he became a strategist aiding General Odin.

A few of the prisoners vanished into the stone pass as Balder and his men broke through the smoke, bloodied but grinning.

"Follow them!" Balder roared.

But as he pushed forward, a thunderous crack rang out across the cliffside, and rocks and soil fell.

Balder pulled his horse to a halt at the edge of the zigzag road. He stared at the broken path, teeth grinding.

He had been outmaneuvered.

...

That night, as the manor settled into uneasy sleep, Freya remained awake. She stood on the balcony of her room, a soft shawl draped over her shoulders. The moon had risen full, bathing the estate in silver.

In the distance, an owl hooted.

And far beyond the walls of Calma, in the dark and dangerous forest near Ourea, General Odin and his sons crouched in silence beside a flickering campfire. They were bruised, bloodied—but not broken. Around them, the other commanders rested in the underbrush, weapons close.

Odin looked up at the sky, eyes reflecting the same moon that shone over Lara’s manor, the one Freya was looking at.

"We’re close," he whispered to no one. "Just a little longer."

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