Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 175: The Purge: The Insurgents

Chapter 175: The Purge: The Insurgents

The old woman and the two young women who had accompanied her were seized by Alaric’s soldiers and thrown into separate holding cells within the gray confines of the Magistrate’s Building. The grandmother, frail and hunched with age, was isolated from the younger women, who were soon brought before Jotnar—a towering brute among Alaric’s men, known not only for his height but for his fierce look as well.

The chamber where they were interrogated was dim and cold, its only light coming from a narrow slit of a window that barely pierced the gloom. The two women flinched as the door slammed shut behind them. Jotnar stepped inside, ducking beneath the frame. Over two meters tall, his presence consumed the space, his silhouette like that of a beast rather than a man.

"What... what are you going to do to us?" one of the girls stammered, her voice quivering.

Jotnar said nothing. Instead, he walked slowly toward them, each step deliberate, predatory. With every move, he shed a piece of his heavy military garb—first the cloak, then the chain mail on his body. By the time he stood bare-chested, the two women had pressed themselves into a corner, eyes wide with fear. His skin was a canvas of pain—etched with deep scars from wars and inked with menacing tattoos of serpents and skulls, symbols of death and power.

"Stay away from us!" they cried in unison, their hands instinctively shielding their faces.

"Who sent you?" Jotnar’s voice was low, guttural. "Who told you to stir up rebellion against the Royal Family of Northem?"

"We don’t know what you’re talking about," said the braver of the two—a young woman with porcelain skin and unruly curls. Her voice held a tremor, but she stood her ground.

"Liar." Jotnar’s eyes burned with rage. "I saw you whispering to that old woman. Coaching her. Feeding her words meant to sow unrest."

The women cowered beneath his shadow as he loomed above them. Their courage, such as it was, had withered.

"Please... we don’t know anything," they begged, their voices now small and broken.

...

After a long while, Jotnar came out of the room, looking satisfied. He went directly the courtroom where Prince Alaric and the others were waiting.

Agilus sneered, leaning forward in his seat. "That smug look tells me your ’methods’ were effective."

Aramis, younger and ever-curious, tilted his head. "Torture? What did you do?"

"Mind games," Jotnar replied with a crooked smile. "Threats, psychological warfare."

The smirk vanished the moment his gaze met Alaric’s glacial eyes. He straightened.

"Your Highness," he said gravely, "They are from Zura. They entered Calma three months ago under false pretenses. Their mission is subversive—manipulate the forgotten villagers, tell them they’ve been abandoned by the monarchy, and pose as champions of justice. Slowly, they twist their minds... until their loyalty belongs to Zura."

Alaric twisted the signet ring on his finger, his expression darkening. "Zura..." he murmured. "They grow bolder by the day."

...

In a quieter room elsewhere in the building, Lara sat across from the elderly woman and offered her a steaming cup of tea.

"This will calm your nerves, Grandma," she said gently. "Drink it while it’s still warm."

Suspicion clouded the old woman’s gaze. "You trying to poison me, boy?"

Without hesitation, Lara poured a little into her own cup and drank it in one swift gulp. "See? Harmless."

Reluctantly, the old woman took the cup and drank deeply. Her parched throat welcomed the warmth. Her voice cracked as she spoke, "They promised me silver—those women. They said I just had to say what they told me to say."

She paused, staring down into the empty cup as if it might answer her unspoken fears.

"I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just... I need money. My granddaughters—" Her voice faltered. "The doctor said they need special medicine to forget... to move on."

Her eyes reddened, but she sat up straighter, jaw set with quiet resolve. She would not weep. She was all her grandchildren had left.

"Are those women your kin?" Lara asked, watching her closely. "I assumed they were your granddaughters."

The old woman shook her head. "No. I met them only three days ago. They said the prince had come, and I could finally be heard. They gave me copper coins and promised more after today."

But they were caught. Will she be imprisoned? She only wanted to earn money so she could buy proper medicine for her granddaughters.

She turned her gaze toward the narrow window, where golden sunlight streamed through dust motes, floating like tiny fairies dancing in the light.

"I just wanted my grandchildren to live well."

Lara narrowed her eyes. Was this woman just a pawn in a larger game? Or had she become skilled at playing the innocent?

A low rumble from the old woman’s stomach broke the silence. Lara reached into her backpack and handed her a rice cake wrapped in leaves.

"Please, eat something. There’s more if you’re hungry."

The old woman took a bite, then carefully rewrapped the rest and tucked it into her pocket.

"You can finish that," Lara said with a smile. "I’ll give you two more for your granddaughters—unless there are more little ones at home?"

"I also have a grandson." The old woman’s weathered face showed a gentle smile when she talked about the grandson, but it was only fleeting; the smile was replaced by worry etched on the deep wrinkles on her forehead.

"Young man, please let me go, my grandchildren... There are only my grandchildren at home. It will be dark soon..."

Lara stood. "Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll take you home myself."

...

Later, she entered the courtroom, her tone now steady and resolute.

"Your Highness," she said, bowing her head slightly before looking into Alaric’s cold, penetrating eyes. "The old woman is innocent. She was misled—manipulated by the two women. I will personally escort her back to her village."

Alaric nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. Then he shot Aramis a look.

But as Lara turned to leave, a quiet thought lingered in her mind: How many more grandmothers like her would be caught in the crossfire of a war they never asked to fight?

When she entered the holding cell where the old woman was waiting anxiously, Lara had decided.

She would expedite her plans, the main reason she could not return to the Norse family yet.