Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 113: Captured!

Chapter 113: Captured!

Angus’s sharp gaze swept over Aramis, and a deep frown creased his brow. His younger brother stood before him, born of their father but to a different mother. Angus had raised and trained Aramis from a boy, shaping him into the warrior he was today. He knew his brother inside and out—or so he had thought.

But now, the young man seemed like a switch that had been flipped, especially when he was alone with Kane. In the span of mere days, his once-familiar brother had become a stranger.

What had happened? What had altered him so profoundly?

In front of Alaric and the other soldiers, Aramis was stern and disciplined, but with Kane, he was a spirited young man.

His troubled thoughts were interrupted. He remembered the scene from earlier, replayed in his mind, an image he had never dared to imagine. Alaric—aloof, untouchable, a man who despised physical contact, whether from men or women—had reached for Kane. It wasn’t just a casual touch; he had pulled him close, his body shielding Kane’s as they hid from the patrolling soldiers.

Angus struggled to believe it. Even Agilus, Alaric’s closest childhood companion, had never been afforded such familiarity. The prince despised being touched, let alone taking the initiative to touch another. Yet, in that moment, he had acted with startling intimacy.

He doubted if the prince needed to pull down Kane. Kane was a skilled person, Aramis told him. He was even better than Asael’s Eagle troop. He could have evaded the patrolling soldier even without Alaric’s meddling. He felt Alaric did that on purpose just to be close to Kane. But why would he do that?

Then Angus thought of how Kane saved Alaric’s life. Even he himself felt adoration for Kane. And who would not be? He was at the clutches of death and Kane snatched him from the claws of Hades.

Still, admiration was one thing. Gratitude was another. But to repay a life debt with one’s body? The thought unsettled him. And yet, Kane didn’t seem like the type to take advantage of such a thing. And Alaric was not that kind of person.

’I must be thinking too much. Alaric was a noble. How could he...’

Angus exhaled, long and slow. This was not his concern. Alaric’s affairs, whatever they may be, were not his to dwell upon. He only had one duty—to protect. To ensure no harm befell the man to whom he had sworn his loyalty.

Because without Alaric, he and Aramis—the last remnants of their fallen clan—would have perished long ago.

And then when he was severely wounded, Prince Alaric gave him that precious medicine. It made him realized that the Prince of Northem did not just treat him as a guard, but valued him as a person and a companion.

So no matter what, he couldn’t think ill of his saviour.

"Hey, Angus, why so silent?" Aramis sat closer to the guard who was leaning against the gray wall.

"Shut up. Go check how many guards are nearby."

"Alright, I’ll return in an hour or so. Just try not to worry too much," Aramis reassured him, his voice a calm whisper that hung in the air. With that, he slipped away, blending into the darkness like a wisp of smoke, his movements graceful and silent as he navigated the shadows that cloaked him.

Then he saw him drag a soldier, and dump him in a corner, hidden from plain sight. Then another... and another.

He counted six bodies before Aramis head back.

"This side is now clear," Aramis declared. He tilted his head upwards, eyes scanning the intricate beams of the roof overhead. A sense of unease gnawed at him as he pondered the delay— what was causing their prolonged absence?

"You can go up and check. Indeed, it had been some time since they left." Angus urged him to go until finally, Aramis relented.

...

On the roof, Lara was about to put back the slate she had moved to create a small hole when she gasped, and her eyes widened.

"General Turik, Mayor, we captured this old man loitering at the east gate." A soldier entered the room, bringing in a man in black clothes, hands bound with a rope. The cap on his head was gone, exposing thick, disheveled hair.

"How could he have been captured?" Lara whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief as the moonbeams cast shadows on her face. Her wide eyes sparkled with confusion, reflecting the dim light of the flickering lantern from below.

Alaric inched closer, their faces nearly brushing against one another, but she seemed not to notice. He peeped into the narrow opening, trying to see the new person in the room.

In the dim light, he recognized Jethru, his features sharp and defined. Despite his disheveled appearance and the rope coiled around his body, he was still cloaked in an aura of mystery.

"Speak! Who sent you? Are you a spy from Northem?" Mayor Fuerte asked. His voice was like a thunder clap.

"What do you mean by that?" Jethru asked, his voice steady despite the flicker of tension in the air. His piercing gaze unwavering and resolute, met that of the mayor before it shifted to General Turik’s black eyes. "I am not a spy. I have not been sent here by anyone." The calmness of his demeanor stood in stark contrast to the heated atmosphere surrounding them.

It irked Mayor Fuerte.

Turik’s sharp gaze lingered on Jethru. He was contemplating and sizing him.

Magus’ eyes were also glued to the white-haired man. He was sure he had seen him before, but he could not remember where.

"Ha! And you think we are stupid to believe you?" Mayor Fuerte’s nose flared. "Which spy would admit that they were not sent by someone."

"If you knew that I am a spy, then why take the trouble of asking and not taking my answer? Isn’t it just a waste of the mayor’s precious time?

"Preposterous! Who are you to talk to me—the Mayor," he pointed at himself, "like that?"

He picked up an ashtray made from marble and threw it in the direction of Jethru.

Jethru dodged.

The soldier who was standing behind could not.

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