Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 67: She Is Leaving

Chapter 67: She Is Leaving

The moment they stepped into Alaric’s room, the air felt heavy.

Alaric was lying on the bed, gaze cold. He barely glanced at Agilus. Instead, his sharp eyes locked onto Felix. The young man shivered.

Agilus arched a brow. What’s his problem?

Lara, oblivious to the silent tension, exhaled. "I’ll dress your wound. Felix needs to see how to remove the stitches in seven days."

Something flickered in Alaric’s dark eyes.

Seven days.

She was leaving and had no intention of coming back.

Lara pushed up his shirt, exposing his abdomen.

Alaric’s muscles tensed. A faint sting ran through his wound.

"Ari, why are you so tense?" Lara asked absentmindedly. "Relax. It’ll sting, but not that much."

Alaric closed his eyes, forcing himself to loosen up.

Lara carefully peeled away the bandage.

Felix sucked in a breath. "Kane, this... this is incredible." His eyes flickered between Lara and the neatly stitched wound. It looked better than the one on Angus. "Can you teach me how to do this?"

Lara smiled faintly. "If we ever meet again, I will. I’ll leave you two of my suturing needles—you can practice on pheasants. I only got this good because I stitched a lot of wounded animals."

Felix hesitated. "Why are you leaving? Why not stay with us?"

Lara stilled.

For the first time since stepping into the room, her eyes met Alaric’s.

A shadow passed over his expression. He didn’t say a word.

Lara inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "If I don’t go, then who will?"

She passed fleeting glances at the three men inside the room. "With all of you injured, you will not be able to leave Mount Ourea alive."

Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, cleaning Alaric’s wound. She leaned in, examining the fresh tissue knitting itself together.

Alaric tensed. He felt the whisper of her breath on his bare skin. Why is she so close? Is she... blowing on the wound?

Before he could say anything, Lara’s eyes widened with delight. "I can’t believe it. Your wound is healing at an incredible rate. At this pace, the stitches could be removed in three to five days."

She reached for the small canister, bringing it to her nose. If she could replicate this formula, it could change everything. Save lives. "Where did you get this?".

Alaric’s voice was measured. "It was given to me by an imperial physician."

"Do you have more?"

"There are only two of them."

Alaric hesitated. Then, from beneath his pillow, he pulled out a gleaming golden pillbox. He opened it, revealing a few pills. "I took this medicine, too. The apothecary who gave it to me said it could heal even fatal wounds. Perhaps it is because of this that the wound healed faster."

Lara traced the contours of the pill, inhaling its scent. Herbs. Honey. But something else. Something... unusual.

"The man who gave me that told me one of its ingredients is the umbilical cord."

Lara froze.

Umbilical cord?

She had read about its miraculous properties in modern medical texts—stem cell therapy, regenerative medicine—but in this time? In this war-torn land?

Her fingers tightened around the pillbox. "The one who made this... is he your friend? I want to meet him. Learn from him."

"He was someone I saved. A nomad. Our paths may never cross again."

What a waste.

Lara applied the ointment over Alaric’s wound. He felt a tingling sensation that crept to his body as her fingers worked deftly.

Then, she covered his wound with a fresh bandage.

Lara crumpled the soiled cloth and threw it in the corner. It landed perfectly inside the wicker basket.

"Felix, you should always replace the bandages with fresh ones. Just ask someone to wash the discarded ones. I don’t have spare bandages anymore. Remember, do not reuse an old bandage." She repeated the reminder.

Lara learned from the history books the reason for the high fatality among wounded soldiers in ancient times—infection due to the unhygienic treatment method.

"Kane, you are so young and yet you are so good in medicine. Can you be my master?"

Felix felt that the room became colder. He looked around and saw the general staring at him icily. He pulled away and looked down. Why does the general seem to dislike him?

"I am not a physician. I am only good in dealing with wounds." Her eyes that looked amber in the morning light, momentarily darkened.

How could she tell them that the reason she was adept at treating wounds was for her survival? She needed to attend to her wounds because no one would.

Alaric caught the fleeting sadness and pain in her eyes. What happened to her? Did someone hurt her in the past?

Lara blinked, and that melancholic look was gone.

Alaric reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope, pressing it into her palm. "Follow the road along the river. It’s the fastest route—and the safest. Take Aramis with you."

Lara stiffened. "I don’t need a guard."

Alaric’s gaze was unwavering. "You do."

Lara wanted to protest, but when she saw Alaric’s determined expression, she kept silent.

Agilus stepped forward, his jaw tight. "Alaric, what are you thinking? Entrusting the letter to him? What if he’s a spy sent by General Turik?"

Alaric barely spared him a glance. "Then why go through the trouble of saving us? Why search for you?" He exhaled sharply. "He is a soldier of the Northem. And I trust him."

Agilus fell silent.

Lara turned, quickly packing what she needed—bamboo tubes filled with alcohol and herbs. She would bring the two sacks of yarrow and have her master processed them. As for bandages, the soldiers needed them more. She could just buy fabric from the shop and cut them into strips.

She hesitated, then grabbed an extra bamboo tube of ethyl alcohol for Delia. Darius would need it.

"Felix, there’s a shed on the north side. Inside, you’ll find processed yarrows and other herbs. Use them to treat the wounded," she murmured.

Alaric gestured for Felix and Agilus to leave. Once they were gone, he reached into his tunic and withdrew another letter.

This one, he handed to her with deliberate slowness. His fingers lingered against hers. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"This letter—deliver it only to General Odin. There is a traitor beside him."

Lara’s breath caught. "A traitor?"

Alaric’s eyes darkened. "Someone he trusts. Someone he would never believe would betray him."

Lara’s fingers tightened around the letter. The weight of his words settled over her like a storm about to break.