Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 301: Thief From Within

Chapter 301: Thief From Within

The marble floors of the royal court echoed with hushed murmurs and the soft shuffle of silk robes as the morning session commenced. Sunlight filtered through stained-glass windows, casting jewel-toned patterns across the pillars and the faces of the assembled nobles. Conversations paused, and curious eyes turned as the grand doors creaked open.

The Marquis of Carles entered—an unusual sight on its own—but what drew gasps was what followed him.

He was flanked by the Norse twins, Peredur and Percival, pushing a strange, gleaming contraption with curved wheels and a sleek metal frame. Between them, Gideon Norse walked proudly, carrying a bundle of thick parchment sealed with the Norse family crest.

General Odin, used his Marquis title to formally appear on court that day. He was imposing in his ceremonial armor. With practiced grace, he stepped forward and bowed deeply before the throne, then turned to face the gathered lords.

"Your Majesty, Noble Lords and Ministers" he began, his voice carrying the gravitas of a seasoned warrior, "I stand before you not as a general, but as a father and citizen. I submit a petition to recognize and patent an invention crafted by my son—Gideon Norse. This device," he gestured to the bicycle, "is a two-wheeled vehicle that requires no horse, no fuel—only the strength and balance of the rider."

A ripple of interest passed through the court. King Heimdal, seated on his high throne carved of silverwood and wolfbone, leaned forward. His ice-blue eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Bring it forward," he commanded.

The Norse twins complied, wheeling the bicycle to the center of the hall. With a quick nod, Percival swung a leg over the frame and began pedaling in a slow circle, the clatter of the wheels echoing under the high dome. Then Peredur took a turn, speeding up slightly, grinning with the pride of a showman. Laughter, applause, and murmurs filled the chamber.

Even the skeptical barons leaned forward, fascinated.

Discussions unfolded rapidly. Ministers asked questions. Lords proposed applications. Could it be used in the city? On hills? Was it safe? What of cost, or replication? After nearly two hours of lively debate, the consensus was clear.

"The court grants the Norse family exclusive rights," proclaimed King Heimdal, his voice carrying over the applause. "For every vehicle made from this design, the Norse shall earn a royalty. Let it be recorded in the Royal Ledger of Inventions."

The session was drawing to a close when an unexpected voice interrupted.

"Your Majesty, if I may."

All turned to see Crown Prince Reuben rise from his seat near the royal dais. In his hand, he held a rolled parchment. With slow, deliberate movements, he stepped forward and unfurled it on the central table. The design revealed was clearly mechanical, similar to the bicycle—but bulkier, but with only one wheel.

A hush fell.

Gideon’s eyes widened in disbelief. It was Lara’s design. The sidecar. The one they had discussed in secret and left unfinished in his room that very morning.

"Your Highness," Gideon said cautiously, voice trembling, "forgive me, but... how did you come to possess that parchment?"

Reuben raised an eyebrow, his voice icy. "What are you implying, Gideon Norse? I have engineers and inventors working under my patronage. This is their work."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

General Odin shot his son a sharp, warning glance. "Gideon—"

But the young Norse leaned closer, whispering so only Odin could hear. "Father, that is Lara’s sketch. She drew it. I made modifications last night and left them on my desk this morning. No one else had access to it."

General Odin’s jaw tensed, a muscle ticking beneath his temple as his eyes narrowed on the prince. His hand fell to Gideon’s shoulder—not with comfort, but restraint, a silent command to hold his tongue.

"Not here," Odin muttered, voice low and sharp as flint. "This is the king’s court, not the forge. To challenge the crown now would cost more than your pride—it could cost your future."

Gideon swallowed his fury, though his hands curled into trembling fists.

Across the marble chamber, Prince Reuben stood with the ease of someone who had never been told no. Reuben, watching them with cool disdain, offered a measured smile. "If there is any confusion, I suggest it be handled through the proper channels. Public accusations have a way of... backfiring."

Gideon clenched his fist. How could Reuben lie without blinking? He wished that everything would backfire on him.

"Your Highness, if I may ask?" Baron Ricafort, an aging lord with ink-stained fingers and a voice like parchment, rose slowly. "That design you presented—how is it meant to function with only one wheel? It appears... unbalanced."

A hushed silence fell over the court.

Prince Reuben’s expression didn’t falter, but a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a flicker of unease. "Naturally," he said with a casual wave, "this design must be attached to the previously presented vehicle. The sidecar is an extension, not a standalone craft."

From the high dais, King Heimdal leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His voice was quiet, but each word carried the weight of a storm on the horizon.

"Son," he said, "how did your inventor come up with this second design... when the first—this ’bicycle’—did not come from him?"

Gasps rippled across the room. Courtiers looked to one another, waiting for someone to speak, to blink, to break the spell.

Reuben’s composure cracked, but only for a second. Then, like a seasoned player of courtly games, he spun his story.

"My inventor," he said smoothly, "misplaced one of his parchments weeks ago. Around that time, he happened to see a man—a metalsmith, I believe pushing a peculiar contraption through the marketplace. He had no proof it was his design, so he said nothing. But the inspiration struck: if such a vehicle existed, why not improve it? A sidecar would allow cargo transport, or a second passenger. Efficiency. Utility. Innovation."

"It is useless for only one person to utilize such a good vehicle. Adding a sidecar to it could be more useful."

Gideon clenched his fists. Those were the words he spoke to Lara when they were discussing things. There was a spy in the Norse Manor. Who could it be?

The seed of doubt had been planted—and though the court adjourned with the usual ceremonial words, the air was no longer celebratory. Whispers followed Gideon as he left the hall, parchment clutched tightly in his fist.

Behind him, the wheels of intrigue had begun to turn.