Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 130: The Brothers

Chapter 130: The Brothers

That evening, in the dimly lit room of Mayor Roder Fuerte’s study, the Norse family gathered once more — a rare reunion forged under quiet urgency. Asael had requested this meeting, and his heart pounded in his chest as he stood before his father and brothers, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on his shoulders.

The once lively Fuerte Mansion had grown quiet under the shroud of dusk. The faint flicker of lanterns cast long shadows across the stone walls, their glow barely reaching the corners of the room.

General Odin stood behind the mahogany table, his handsome face unreadable, the lines carved into his brow a testament to years of war and loss. Having traveled from the Hainai Camp, his remaining sons sat quietly, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern.

Most of the soldiers in Hainai had already been sent home after their long campaigns; only two commanders and their troops remained behind to safeguard the territory. Even now, the weight of their duty lingered in the air.

General Odisn’s sons were present except for the Peredur, who stayed in Savadra to study as he was a scholar.

The sons of General Odin:

The Norse sons were a formidable lot, each bearing the mark of their lineage. Asael, the eldest at twenty-three, stood at the forefront, his features a perfect blend of their parents — the sharpness of their father’s gaze, the quiet resilience of their mother’s grace. Of all the siblings, only Lara shared Asael’s striking combination of traits, though her face was softer, more delicate, her jawline gentler, her eyebrows less thicker than Asael and her lips the shape of cupid’s bow.

Beside him sat Galahad, the second-born, barely twenty-two, who held the rank of Lieutenant. He was already carrying the weight of responsibility on his broad shoulders. His eyes, sharp and watchful, scanned Asael with a quiet intensity.

Bener, the third son at twenty, sat fidgeting with the hilt of his dagger, his restless energy barely contained.

Then there was Gideon, the fourth son, nearly nineteen and ever the brooding one. His silence spoke louder than words, his presence like a shadow lingering at the edge of the room.

The twins, Percival and Peredur, were the youngest of the brothers at eighteen. Percival was, quiet and observant, while Peredur remained absent, his mind lost to books and scrolls in Savadra.

And then there was Lara — the youngest, the only daughter. Her ’death’ two years ago had struck like a blade to the heart of the Norse family, leaving wounds that had yet to heal. The silence she left behind was deafening.

Galahad broke the quiet, his voice soft with concern. "Eldest brother, you still look pale. Why are you running around? You should be resting in the infirmary." His brows knit together as he studied Asael, his worry plain on his face.

Asael waved him off with a grin, leaning casually against the table. "I’m fine, Gal. Strong as a bull, you know." He thumped his chest for emphasis, the bravado in his voice barely masking the exhaustion in his eyes.

The four younger brothers exchanged looks, rolling their eyes in unison.

"Still bragging," Bener muttered under his breath, though there was fondness in his tone.

The air shifted subtly — a quiet stillness settling over the room, heavy with unspoken words. General Odin remained silent, watching his sons, the flicker of the lanterns dancing across his stern face.

As a father, he swelled with pride for each of his remarkable sons, each one a testament to his love and guidance, embodying qualities that set them apart in their own unique ways. Their achievements filled his heart with joy, but his thoughts soon drifted to his beloved youngest child, Lara, his shining light in a house full of boys. With her spirited laughter and bright inquisitiveness, she brought a warmth and vibrancy that lit up his world,

If only she were still here, she would have blossomed into a radiant sixteen-year-old, full of life and dreams. Just like her mother, she would have graced the world with her beauty and spirit. With nimble fingers, she would have mastered the melodies of musical instruments, filling the air with sweet harmonies. Yet, in the harsh reality of existence, there are no "what ifs" to soften the blow of grief. His daughter was gone forever, leaving an empty space that echoed with the laughter and music that would never be.

Asael inhaled slowly, steeling himself. Tonight, the Norse family would learn the truth.

Asael cleared his throat, a glimmer of excitement flickering in his eyes. "Gather around, everyone," he began, his voice steady yet bursting with anticipation. "I have something truly special to share with you all."

"Is it good news or bad news?" Percival asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. His brow furrowed in anticipation, eyes sparkling with a mix of hope and dread.

"Hey, Perci, could you please quiet down? Your incessant chatter is shattering the atmosphere," Galahad exclaimed sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a dagger, leaving a tense silence in its wake.

"What? How did I ruin the mood? I just asked a sentence and how did it become to incessant chatter.

"Enough of your bickering!" General Odin’s voice boomed in the entire room.

Then Silence.

The siblings felt a deep-seated fear of their father, whose towering presence loomed over them like a dark cloud. His sharp gaze could pierce through to their very souls, leaving them shivering as if caught in a winter’s chill. The stern lines etched on his face served as a constant reminder of the unwavering authority he held, and his booming voice echoed through the halls like thunder, sending tremors of apprehension coursing through their veins. In his shadow, they often felt small and vulnerable, their spirits dimmed by the weight of his disapproval.

Everyone’s attention now shifted to Asael who looked so happy. He loved the looked of his siblings as they waited for his news.

"Everyone, I find our sister, Lara. She is not dead!"