Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 127: The Fall Of Carles

Chapter 127: The Fall Of Carles

Primo Lenard, though pale and clammy after enduring the pain of being stitched up without anesthesia, was grinning from ear to ear as he read his wife’s letter. The pain faded into the background, overshadowed by the warmth blossoming in his chest with every word he read. How he missed his wife and his children.

Delia wrote about Kane’s kindness — how the doctor had cared for her during her illness — and mentioned that their son, Cyrus, had fallen sick. The lack of details gnawed at him, but knowing they were safe for now brought him some comfort.

The soldiers who returned from the mangrove forest split into two groups. Bener and fifty soldiers escorted the soldiers who surrendered to the camp at Gwamuros while the remaining soldiers, including the soldier supporting Primo earlier, headed back to the eastside camp to continue guarding it against the enemies.

"Brother-in-law, how is your leg?" the soldier was panting as he hurried over. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his chest was heaving, a sign that he must have run a long distance.

"I am fine. The wound was stitched beautifully and has stopped bleeding."

"Brother-in-law, is that a letter?" The younger soldier’s eyes flickered to the letter in Primo’s hand. "From Delia?"

"Yes, Delia sent a letter through Doctor Kane."

Lara returned from her visit to a temporary outhouse. The young soldier’s hopeful gaze caught her attention, and she instantly guessed that he must be Lina’s husband. Silently, she handed him another letter. His hands trembled as he reached for it, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness.

"This rucksack was sewn by Lina." She paused, watching the flicker of emotion cross his face. Lara realized that in that era, people were not familiar with backpacks, but they used to call them rucksacks. "And your little boy is so well-behaved. He looks a little bit like you but got his skin color from his mother."

The soldier blinked back tears. His son was just a baby when they left. "Thank you... Doctor Kane. My name is Lucas. Lucas Catalan."

Lara nodded at him in acknowledgment before turning her attention to Primo.

"Come with us to the main camp. Your injury is quite serious. You need follow-up treatment."

Primo glanced at his brother-in-law. In the last two years, they have supported each other. Rather, It was more of him protecting his young brother-in-law. He had shielded Lucas countless times, the younger man’s reckless nature often getting the better of him. If he left now, who would watch Lucas’s back?

"He can come too," Lara added, sensing Primo’s unspoken concern. "I’ll need assistance with the patients."

"Okay, then. Thank you again, Doctor Kane."

When Alaric saw that Kane was taking two soldiers with him, he was not happy. Ultimately, he took Primo with him, and Lucas rode with Aramis.

...

It was midnight, and the camp was cloaked in darkness when the Northern soldiers arrived at Sentro, having marched relentlessly from Hainai along the provincial road. Silent as shadows, they surrounded the town before dawn. The Estalis soldiers, battered and weary from the previous day’s assault, were demoralized. They surrendered without a fight, their spirits crushed.

The first to surrender was the general, who Lara shot in the thigh, and his son. When General Marcus woke up, he did not understand how he was still alive until his son recounted to him what happened. He then understood that the young soldier who shot him had no intention of killing him. His admiration of the Northem soldiers grow a notch higher.

In the mayor’s mansion, chaos reigned.

"You Estalis soldiers are cowards, useless, and brainless. I can’t believe that with all the strategies I have provided, you still failed. You are on your own." General Turik fumed as he stormed out the door and ordered his general to pull out their troops and retreat to Alta-Sierra.

"Turik, you can’t leave me alone. I paid you a lot of money. You owe me." Fuerte’s voice cracked with desperation.

Turik turned, a wicked smirk curling his lips. "Owe you? I lost men here. I gave you my strategies. Do you think those are free? If anyone owes anyone, it’s you."

General Turik smirked. "Besides, the money is not yours. It is from the people of Carles." Then he turned around and never looked back.

Fuerte stood frozen, rage simmering beneath his skin. In a blind fury, he swept everything off his desk — papers, glasses, maps — sending them crashing to the floor.

General Abner, standing stiffly to the side, pursed his lips. It was his misfortune to come to Carles to serve this stupid mayor. For him, the war hasn’t even started, and it already ended.

"What are you waiting for? Prepare to escape."

Mayor Fuerte never imagined that it was not even two days and Carles had already fallen. He did not have time to prepare. He ran to his room to find his wife and his mistress trembling in fear.

"What are you doing? Hurry up and pack your things. Don’t dawdle. We leave in fifteen minutes." He shoved gold and silver coins into a duffel bag, the metal clinking harshly against each other.

"Go get the children." The mayor shouted at his bodyguard.

His bodyguard dashed off to gather the children while the women frantically stuffed essentials into bags. Moments later, they fled through the mansion’s back door, where carriages awaited to whisk them away to Estalis. Fuerte planned to slip away unnoticed and return once the dust settled.

But the moment he stepped out, a wall of spears and swords met him, glimmering ominously under the pale light of dawn. Soldiers in Northern uniforms stood silently, their eyes cold and unforgiving.

A tall figure emerged from behind the line of soldiers.

General Odin.

Mayor Fuerte froze but after sometime, he recovered and composed himself.

Fuerte’s heart hammered in his chest, but he straightened his spine, mustering what little authority he had left. "What is the meaning of this?" His voice boomed though the tremor beneath it betrayed him.

"Fleeing, Mayor Fuerte?" Odin’s voice was calm, almost amused.

Behind Odin, Fuerte spotted General Abner — captured, disarmed, and held at sword point. His pulse quickened.

He laughed nervously, spreading his hands. "No, no... you misunderstand. My family and I... we’re visiting relatives in the next town."

Fuerte’s eyes darted around, searching for an escape. But the soldiers closed in, steel glinting in the dim light. As they seized him, his mind raced. How did everything fall apart so quickly?

In the stillness before dawn, the once-proud Mayor of Carles found himself shackled and powerless, his dreams of wealth and power slipping away into the shadows.

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