Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 138: Are The Brothers Worthy?

Chapter 138: Are The Brothers Worthy?

A pang of guilt gnawed at Lara’s heart. She was an impostor. A soul of a stranger in another’s body. Yet, what choice did she have? The blood running through her veins was that of a Norse, and the men before her — proud, strong, and bound by loyalty — believed she was their sister. She had to embrace this new reality and claim her place among them.

However, she wanted to test them. She needed to see if these brothers were worthy of her trust — if they were as formidable as their reputations suggested. Trust wasn’t given freely. It had to be earned.

She recounted the rest of the story: their escape, the river crossing, and their accidental entry into Mount Roca, where they met the hermit who sheltered them for two years and became her master. She told them about the human traffickers — Hook, Scarface, Brutus — and the ten men who’d guarded them.

She observed the brothers carefully, their faces flickering with disbelief and darkening rage as she finished the story.

"Brutus drowned while chasing us," she added, a slight, satisfied grin tugging at her lips. His death had been poetic justice.

She gave them names but kept Hook’s whereabouts to herself. Not yet. Her current skills wouldn’t be enough to take him down — not without using underhanded means, and that felt too easy.

No! Hook deserved to suffer for the lives he’d ruined. He deserved a fate worse than death.

"How did you survive in Mount Roca?" Gideon asked; his eyes were wide and full of disbelief. "Even with a master, how could you fend off the predators that lurked in that mountain? The stories say that once you enter, there’s barely a chance you’ll come out alive." His eyes, wide and questioning, locked onto hers.

Lara shrugged. "Perhaps luck was on our side." She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "That, and I worked hard to hone my skills."

Gideon looked unconvinced, but it was Percival who leaned forward, his curiosity burning brighter than fear. "Is it true you learned suturing by practicing on wild animals?" he asked hesitantly.

"It is true." Her answer was calm and steady as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Percival’s eyes sparkled with admiration. "Then, Sister... will you teach me?" He looked at her the way a disciple looks at their master — wide-eyed and hopeful. "It’s my dream to be a physician. But Father wants me on the battlefield, but maybe... maybe I can do both."

Galahad shot him a sharp look. "Percival, we just got her back after two years and you’re already asking for favors? What is wrong with you?" Percival flushed and muttered an apology, sinking back.

Lara’s gaze shifted to Bener, the quietest of the four. He was not much of a talker, but he would always find something to say to her. But now, he stood slightly apart, arms crossed, a frown tugging at his lips. His silence unnerved her.

Sensing her eyes on him, Bener cleared his throat and gave her an awkward smile. "Honestly, I am still trying to wrap my head around it." His voice was low and measured. "The man I saw ruthlessly taking down those Zuran soldiers is my little sister, who would turn pale at the side of blood. It is hard for me to accept that my sister is even better than me in bows and arrows, swords and knives and even hand to hand combat." He shook his head. "It’s... hard to believe."

Lara chuckled softly. If only you knew...

Galahad arched a brow. "Wait." His gaze snapped to Bener. "Are you saying Lara beat you in hand-to-hand combat?" He almost laughed at the absurdity.

"Yes. You can try fighting her, and I am sure you will also be unable to land a single punch on her."

Bener crossed his arms and met Galahad’s stare head-on. "Yes. Try sparring with her. I bet you won’t land a single hit."

Galahad scoffed, but before he could retort, Bener laughed — a loud, booming sound that echoed through the small room.

"What’s so funny?" Gideon asked, bewildered.

Bener wiped his eyes, his grin widening. "Would you believe me if I told you Father challenged Lara to a fight?"

"What?!" Three voices chorused in disbelief.

Bener leaned against the wall, still chuckling. "Of course, he didn’t know it was her. He thought she was Kane."

Percival perked up. "What happened?"

"She refused," Bener said, glancing at Lara with newfound respect. "And now I understand why." He stepped forward, reaching out to ruffle her hair like he used to do when they were younger. Lara flinched at the gesture. Only Asael had ever done that before. Were they used ruffling their sister’s hair.

Bener’s fingers accidentally caught the tie in her hair, loosening it. Her topknot unraveled, and her dark, wavy locks spilled over her shoulders, cascading past her waist. The brothers stared, momentarily stunned into silence.

"Why?" Percival’s voice brought them back to reality.

"She didn’t want to humiliate him." Bener smirked, crossing his arms. "Right, Sis?"

Lara sighed and nodded.

Galahad shook his head slowly. He turned toward Percival, who still looked stunned. "If Bener says she beat him, what does that say about your combat skills?"

Percival scowled. "Not fair! I’ve never even sparred with her."

Galahad ignored him, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized his sister. Something about all of this didn’t sit right. His gaze turned complicated. Even if she practiced every day for two years, it would still not be enough for her to beat Bener. He trained since he was four, just like the rest of the males in the Norse family. His skills amongst his peers were unparalleled. How could his sister learn so much in two years?

He shook his head, pushing the doubts away. He’d just sought her forgiveness — the last thing he wanted was to cast more suspicion. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder...

Who really was this woman before him? She was far different from the sister he once knew.

She stood before them with a straight back, head held high. Calm. Collected. Dangerous. The aura of an assassin.

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