Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 315: The Encounter

Chapter 315: The Encounter

The eastern horizon began to pale, the first threads of dawn unraveling the night’s ashen veil. A heavy fog clung to the city of Savadra like a ghost reluctant to leave, turning stone and spire into fading silhouettes. Above, the sun strained behind the haze, smothered and sickly—like a flame buried beneath the ashes of an old war.

Kasmer stood by the shuttered window of the room they had claimed. He watched the capital stir. He had not slept, and it showed. The air inside was sharp with cold and tinged with the scent of soot and old metal—a breath of the forge clinging to everything.

Nasser groaned as he rolled from his bed, rubbing his eyes. "It is not even bright yet. The guards of the Norse estate will chase us. Who in their right mind would visit so early in the morning? Tell me we’re not walking to the Norse estate?"

"We are," Kasmer said, strapping on the leather bracers beneath his cloak. "No banner. No carriage. No notice. We arrive as men who demand nothing."

Nasser was fully awake. "Common. Where is your pride? Do you think that the Norse siblings would take us seriously if we barge onto their estate on foot?"

"Fully awake now? Freshen up and let’s go to Matthias. I need to discuss something with him."

Nasser grumbled. "That sounds like the worst way to deal with nobles," Nasser muttered, pulling on his boots. "Or the best way to get stabbed before breakfast."

Kasmer didn’t answer. His thoughts were already elsewhere—calculating every angle, every variable, every lie waiting to be told and truth waiting to be twisted.

Matthias was waiting in the workshop dining area. He shared with them how Prince Reuben was pulling strings to get the patent ownership for the two iron horses.

"What a brazen display, that crown prince," Nasser exclaimed, irritation lacing his voice. "Isn’t that the very definition of coercion?" His eyes flashed with indignation, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

"That’s the intoxicating allure of power. He believes he is invincible, convinced that all doors are open to him simply because he wears the crown."

...

The Norse Manor rose like a fortress from the northern quarter—its towers jagged against the cloud-laden sky, framed by stark granite walls. Its iron gates bore the sigil of a soaring eagle, wings outstretched as if to strike, not soar.

Matthias’ carriage creaked to a halt, flanked by spear-bearing guards. They recognized the insignia on the carriage and allowed entry without delay—but their eyes lingered on Kasmer and Nasser with measured scrutiny.

Inside, the manor was not luxurious—it was disciplined. Cold stone floors, gleaming armor displays, sparse furnishings. The Norse family had never been known for decadence, only for steel.

Servants passed swiftly, heads bowed. The silence inside spoke of discipline, not comfort.

They were led to a high-ceilinged sitting room where the Norses entertained their guests, and the three men waited—the Norse brothers, two of whom were carved from the same unrelenting mold.

From a side corridor, Lady Lara Norse entered. Her stride was purposeful, boots still damp with dew from the stables. Her copper-brown hair was loose down her back, wind-tossed but regal, and her riding leathers clung to her tall frame with understated grace. She looked every inch a noblewoman—but not the pampered kind. She had the look of someone who could out-ride a storm and not bother to brush off the dust after.

Her cropped white blouse and wide-legged chocolate trousers still bore traces of the wild horse she’d broken that morning—mud at the hem, a faint smudge across her forearm.

She had a challenging time taming a wild horse that the head knight had just recently brought to the Norse manor. Her hair was slightly disheveled but it did not diminish her beauty. Instead, it added a certain kind of allure to it.

She wasn’t aware that they had guests. It was good that she had taken her breakfast outside while training; otherwise, she would have gone hungry.

She paused upon seeing Matthias with two strangers. Clearly, she hadn’t been informed of guests.

Her brother, Gideon leaned against the table, younger but no less dangerous. His coat was unbuttoned, revealing a thin chainmail shirt beneath. His gaze swept over Kasmer like a sword about to be drawn.

"You arrived without prior notice," Gideon said flatly. "That’s rare for a man who claims to be seeking alliance. If not for Matthias, we would waste our time with you."

Kasmer stepped forward. "And yet, I was received."

"That’s only because I was curious what kind of madman sends word sealed with a crest not seen in thirty years."

Nasser cleared his throat, half-raising a hand. "Perhaps we could all sit—"

"Pardon my brothers for being impolite," Lara cut in. "Please take your seats."

She gestured to the cushioned chairs and signalled the servants to serve tea and pastries.

Nasser sat without waiting for a second invitation.

Lara looked at Kasmer. For a moment, their gazes locked, and something complex flickered in Lara’s eyes that looked amber in the morning light.

Lara stepped forward and offered her hand for greetings. There was something she wanted to check.

Kasmer hesitated only a breath, then clasped it gently. Her grip was firm, her palm warm from the morning ride. But it was her gaze that unnerved him, not for its beauty, but for its intensity. It wasn’t admiration. It was scrutiny. She was searching for something.

Something flickered there, and then recognition.

She studied his face as though trying to unearth a memory buried deep and dangerous.

And then she spoke, low enough for only him to hear.

"Do I know you from before?" Lara asked.

Kasmer’s calm facade showed a crack.

Before he could answer, Gideon’s voice broke the moment.

"Master, shall we discuss why you came so early in the morning with these strangers?" Gideon’s voice was very respectful. He had seriously taken their master - apprentice relationship.

Lara was dumbfounded. Given her brother’s reaction to the two people, she thought that they knew each other.

Matthias cleared his throat. "I apologize for coming here without letting you know in advance. "This is my friend, Kasmer. He came from a family of merchants from Cavinta." Matthias glared at Nasser, who was making himself comfortable with the tea and pastries. "That is Nasser."

Lara’s brows arched. Why did she feel that these two people were becoming more and more famiiar?

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