Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 321: The Truth Behind the Lies

Chapter 321: The Truth Behind the Lies

That night, just like the one before, two shadows slithered across the palace grounds, moving with lethal precision toward the southern wing—where the concubine’s chamber lay guarded by only a handful of men.

One of the guards suddenly groaned, clutching his abdomen. "I—I need the latrine," he gasped, already stumbling away before anyone could question him.

The others barely had time to glance at each other before a second shadow slipped silently into the barracks. He moved like a ghost, swift and silent—his presence no more than a breath in the dark. In a flash, he was upon one of the sleeping guards. A sharp strike to the temple, a thud. Unconscious.

He sprinted along the palace wall, ducking beneath torchlight, then vanished into the shadows of a crumbling tool shed nestled against the eastern perimeter.

Inside, the air was thick with rust and dust. Another guard was already bound and unconscious on the floor—his head lolling to the side. Molavi dropped his latest capture beside him and wiped the sweat from his brow, smirking.

"That was too easy," he muttered, unaware that unseen hands within the palace had quietly cleared their path. They were pawns in a far larger game—tools forged for a single ambition that none of them fully understood.

A figure emerged from the shadows—Kasmeri.

He looked colder than steel, every movement coiled with purpose.

"You finish this. I have another task—one that ends with the king’s blood and justice for my mother."

"The fire should create a diversion. Be careful not to get caught. Once you are done, leave the palace and do not wait for me." Kasmeri reminded him.

He placed a firm hand on Molavi’s shoulder, grounding him.

"If fate favors us, we meet again in three days—at her grave. If not... lead our men. Use everything I own in Calma. Give them a future worth bleeding for... a better life."

"Kas..." Molavi’s voice choked. He was aware of how dangerous his mission was.

This wasn’t a plan—it was a farewell.

He wanted to stop him. To say something... anything.

But he knew the truth: nothing would turn Kasmeri from this path. His life had been sharpened into a single purpose, aimed at this night.

A son would confront his father.

...

King Heimdal was greatly troubled. His firstborn was being framed for rebellion, and his second son was the mastermind behind it. At first, he did not believe that the gentle and filial son whom he showered with love and attention could do such things.

He had already banished Alaric to shield him from the turmoil of palace politics, but why did Reuben still want to harm him? He was already the crown prince, and there was no way that Alaric could be a threat to him.

He needed to clear his mind, so he headed in the direction of the former queen’s chamber. Only in that place could he relax and think clearly.

"Your Majesty, are you going to Queen Astrid’s boudoir?" Pelagio, his esquire, asked as he fell in step beside him.

Heimdal hummed, then continued walking in silence until they arrived at the entrance of the quaint house with a beautiful garden and a pond.

"I will increase the guards surrounding the queen’s courtyard, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Pelagio. Ensure that the queen, the concubine, the prince, and the princesses are protected. You do not need to accompany me. I want to be alone."

King Heimdal once again stood unmoving in front of the painting of the former queen. He was like that for a few minutes until he felt a presence full of killing intent behind him.

He was a great general when he was younger, but his martial arts skills were weakened by old age and neglect. When a sword was pointed at his back, he could not defend himself.

"If you make a sound, this sword will pierce your back."

King Heimdal slowly turned around. He wanted to see someone bold enough to infiltrate the palace and assassinate him.

Then, from a distance, he heard shouts about a fire at the eastern wall and a flurry of footsteps running in the hallways.

"Your Majesty, are you alright? There is a fire at the eastern wing, and we are sending people to help put it out." A royal guard outside the room called out.

"I am alright. Just do your duty." King Heimdal said in a measured tone.

His orbs, as dark as the night, never leave the face of the man wearing a mask. He was wearing Alaric’s cloak and his hat.

"So you are the one impersonating my son, going around killing and burning people?" King Heimdal’s voice was cold and carried the command of a king.

Kasmeri wavered. He has a strong presence, but why did he cower in the presence of the king?

When the man did not speak, King Heimdal asked, "Who are you, and why are you doing this?"

The man gave a slow, mocking sneer beneath the shadow of his mask. His voice dripped with venom.

"I’ll answer both. Since you’ve earned the truth... at the end."

He took a step forward. The tip of the sword pressed into Heimdal’s chest with more weight now—just enough to pierce skin if he breathed too deeply.

Where the heck were his secret guards?

"Who am I?" the masked man echoed, as if tasting the question on his tongue. "I am your firstborn. The one you discarded like garbage."

Heimdall’s face twisted in disbelief.

"Do you think I am a fool? You are not Alaric. No matter how you try to impersonate him, you are not him."

The sword quivered slightly as the masked man—Kasmeri—tightened his grip.

"I’m not trying to be Alaric," he hissed. "I’m the son of a palace servant. The woman you used, shamed, and then cast out like she was nothing. The woman whose life you shattered to protect your name."

A flicker of pain crossed Heimdal’s face as the blade pushed harder, piercing through the golden-stitched tunic and drawing a thin line of blood.

"Do not slander me. I haven’t slept with any servant or any other woman, other than my wives and my concubine." King Heimdal was resolute in his words.

"Even now, in the face of death, you are still denying that you slept with my mother?"

"Young man, do not be delusional like your mother. I spared her life out of mercy. I gave her gold, and—even though I owed her nothing! She even slandered me."

"Mercy?" Kasmeri’s laugh was bitter and sharp. "You think that was mercy? You murdered her husband. You murdered her son—my brother. You sent men in the night to burn our home to ash. Because you couldn’t bear the shame of a bastard breathing your royal air."

He lunged, the blade cutting across Heimdal’s sleeve as the king twisted just in time to avoid a killing blow. He staggered back, breathing heavily.

"What are you talking about?" Heimdal’s voice wavered. "I never gave such an order—never!"

Then, realization dawned.

His face went pale.

"The man who slept with your mother was my cousin, ..."