Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 116: The Sinister Plan

Chapter 116: The Sinister Plan

"But... but we haven’t even confronted them." One of the younger guards stammered, eyes wide with disbelief.

The commander turned, his face twisted with scorn. "If you’re feeling bold, go ahead. Confront them."

The young guard paled, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. The darkness seemed to press in tighter, and the wind carried the faint whisper of shifting leaves... or perhaps something else. Heart pounding, he remained silent.

Without another word, the commander turned and slipped back into the night, the rest of the guards following swiftly behind.

In the stillness that followed, only the trees remained as silent witnesses, their branches swaying softly beneath the pale moon.

Back under the shelter of the trees, Aramis lowered his bow, eyes narrowing into the darkness. "They’re gone," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. The others relaxed slightly, but none of them let their guard down.

...

The camp was quiet, save for the distant crackle of fires and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Inside the command center, General Odin stood at the head of a broad wooden table, eyes locked on the diorama of Carles sprawled before him. The miniature landscape of carved wood and parchment mirrored the battlefield that awaited them — a quiet town now poised on the edge of war.

Jethru leaned over the table, his brow furrowed. "They had a strategist with them," he said, voice low and sharp. "Someone who moved and spoke like a war general."

Odin’s gaze darkened. "It was Turik." He spoke the name like a curse. "Roder Fuerte has allied himself with Zura." The general’s expression grew distant, thoughtful.

Lara’s eyes turned sharp, that Jethru thought he saw hatred in them.

She shifted uneasily. The weight of Odin’s words pressed down inside the tent. Alaric’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"Master," Lara said quietly, "before you were brought into that room... I heard them. They were discussing their plans for tomorrow." Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "More people will be brought in from the villages. And a woman named Briella... she’ll lead them in the attack."

Jethru slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the wooden pieces of the diorama. "Damn it! Despicable. I should have killed him earlier." His voice was a growl, low and dangerous.

Lara rolled her eyes. "Sure, Master." Her tone was dry. "I’m sure you would’ve done that."

Jethru shot her a glare but said nothing. The tent grew silent once more, only the distant murmur of the camp breaking the stillness.

"So, what do we do?" Lara asked, crossing her arms.

Jethru stroked his beard, eyes narrowing at the diorama. "When the women attack, we knock them unconscious. Tie them up. Place them in a tent until the fighting is over."

Alaric frowned. "What about the children? The elderly? They’ll be caught in the chaos."

Jethru barely hesitated. "We do the same for them."

"We do the same for them." Jethru said without thinking.

Lara’s brows knit together. "Master... what if someone gets hurt? Or worse — what if someone dies in the scuffle?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and cold. Odin’s face darkened. "It’s possible." His voice was quiet, almost bitter. "That’s the undeniable truth."

Alaric shifted, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the map. Pieces began to fall into place in his mind — whispers of conversations, glimpses of movement in the shadows. Slowly, his gaze sharpened.

"I don’t think the women, children, or elderly are the real threat." His voice cut through the silence. "They’re a distraction." He looked up, meeting Odin’s gaze. "If Fuerte has allied with the Zurans, then Zuran soldiers are already in Carles. They’ll use the chaos as cover to strike."

Odin’s eyes narrowed, the flicker of the lantern catching the sharp planes of his face. Slowly, he nodded. "You’re right, Your Highness." His voice was low and grim. "I suspect the Zuran soldiers are already here, masquerading as harmless civilians."

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold, wrapping around the group like a shroud. The diorama of Carles sat between them, its tiny streets and delicate structures bathed in the dim glow. In that moment, it felt fragile — as if the smallest breath would send the whole town toppling into ruin.

Tomorrow, chaos would descend. And the true enemy would be waiting in the shadows.

But Lara squared her shoulders, a flicker of determination sparking in her eyes. "We’re a step ahead of them now. We can prepare." She leaned forward, her fingers tracing the wooden streets on the map. "I think I can handle the children, the women, and the elderly. I’ll need a few soldiers — ones skilled in throwing ropes and casting nets — and as much rope as we can gather. If we can bind them quickly, we can keep them out of the fight without harming them."

General Odin studied her for a moment, then gave a slow, approving nod. "I’ll see to it. I’ll select soldiers with the right skills and have everything prepared by dawn." His voice had lightened, a quiet reassurance in his tone.

Lara sighed, the weight on her chest easing slightly. "Thank you, General." She yawned unexpectedly, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes widening with embarrassment.

Odin chuckled softly. "Kane, why don’t you get some rest? You’re barely standing." His gaze softened as he looked at the young boy, a rare warmth in his expression. It was clear the general had taken a liking to him. "Go. Sleep."

"I’ll take him."

"I’ll take him."

Alaric and Jethru said at the same time.

Then Alaric’s sharp gaze landed on the Jethru and Jethru raised his hands on the air in surrender.

Alaric stepped forward, resting a hand on Kane’s shoulder. "I’ll take him back to the tent." His voice was quiet but firm, his eyes sweeping over the group one last time.

As they left, the tent fell into silence once more, the lantern flickering in the dark.

General Odin frowned. How come Alaric has to accompany Kane? Can’t he go back on his own?

Jethru had a sly smirk on his face. It looked like the prince did not detest Lara. My disciple has hope.

Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, and in the distance, the night stretched on, quiet and watchful. The battle was coming.

And they had only a few precious hours before the storm arrived.

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