Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 89: Call Him Brother

Chapter 89: Call Him Brother

"What’s wrong with me calling him ’brother’?" Lara smirked, arms crossed as she glanced at Bener. "We look alike, don’t we? If the three of us stood side by side, I bet people would think I’m more his brother than you are."

Lara rolled her eyes at Bener’s words, her tone dripping with exasperation.

Bener chuckled, though a flicker of something unspoken passed through his gaze. Kane wasn’t wrong. Standing next to Asael, Kane’s resemblance to his older brother was striking—eighty percent, maybe more. Bener, on the other hand? Perhaps fifty percent at best.

’Well, I took after my paternal grandfather, while Asael got the best features of our father and mother.’

His thoughts wandered, unbidden, to his youngest sister—the one who never had the chance to grow up. Their mother used to say she was the spitting image of Asael as a baby. If she had lived... she would have been the female version of Kane.

His thoughts wandered, unbidden, to his youngest sister who looked like his eldest brother. Their mother used to say she was the spitting image of Asael as a baby. If she was alive, then she would be the female version of Kane.

But she was gone. Gone forever.

Bener’s expression darkened. He lay back on the cool grass, eyes drifting toward the vast night sky, the stars flickering like distant memories—beautiful yet unreachable.

Sis. Are you one of the stars shining brightly above us? Can you shine your light upon our eldest brother? He doesn’t deserve to die.

...

In a tent larger than the others, Merlin Norse paced restlessly, his boots scraping against the ground. His father, General Marlon Norse, sat cross-legged on a woven mat, his expression unreadable.

"Stop moving around," the older man snapped. "You’re making me dizzy."

Merlin halted, though his frustration remained. "Father, that Kane Mendel... isn’t he Uncle’s illegitimate son?" His brows furrowed. "Why does he look so much like Asael?"

Marlon exhaled sharply. "Perhaps. I don’t know. It’s not as if your uncle and I are constantly together. But that man was sent by Prince Alaric to deliver a message."

"A message?" Merlin looked at his father meaningfully.

"The prince intercepted a letter meant for the rebel general. It was a warning—an order not to attack because it was a trap."

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Merlin scoffed. "Then why did we attack anyway? Are we walking straight into that trap?"

"Lower your voice!" Marlon hissed, his eyes flashing with warning. "The second prince’s advisers pushed for the attack, claiming it was the perfect opportunity. And honestly, think about it—Estalis is crumbling. Their army is in shambles, their resources are dwindling. If we hesitate now, we might as well hand them a chance to recover. Not attacking would have been foolish."

Merlin wasn’t convinced. "So Prince Alaric miscalculated?"

Marlon’s expression darkened. He tapped his fingers against his knee, as if weighing his words. "If Alaric sent someone with such an urgent warning, it can only mean one thing—he’s seriously injured."

Merlin’s breath hitched. "Then that means... the glory of this war will go to Prince Reuben?"

Marlon’s eyes snapped to his son. "Don’t be ridiculous! Three princes are involved in this war—the credit won’t go to just one."

Merlin crossed his arms. "Then why do you support the second prince?"

His father’s gaze turned sharp. "I do not openly support anyone." His tone was measured, careful. "When the king’s favor is uncertain, it is foolish to place all your eggs in one basket. Do you understand?"

Marlon glared at his son.

Merlin swallowed, nodding slowly. "I understand, Father."

Marlon studied his son for a long moment before speaking again. "Prince Alaric has the birthright to the throne, but the second prince is the queen’s eldest son. And the king... well, he adores him. Never forget that."

Merlin remained quiet, his mind churning. Then, something else resurfaced in his thoughts.

"Father, about Kane... he isn’t just some simple messenger."

Marlon raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I saw him fight, but four of the Zuran soldiers could not match him. It was very easy for him to defeat them."

"Is that so? He is so slender and looked effeminate. How could he has fighting skill? He claims to be a doctor, not a soldier." Marlon used both hands to support his body as he stood up. He was as tall as his son.

"He seemed to be a different person when he fought yesterday. His eyes blazed with fury. He struck with precision. There was this Zuran soldier who attacked him from the back. He seemed to have eyes at the back of his head. That soldier dropped dead when he was just raising his sword to hit him." Merlin recounted the fighting scene he encountered.

Marlon’s expression hardened.

"And when Bener was about to be skewered by another soldier," Merlin continued, voice tight. "Kane was locked in battle himself—but he still managed to hurl a knife straight into the enemy’s chest. One throw. Perfect aim."

Marlon’s jaw tightened. "He’s that skilled?"

"Yes, Father. He was also very accurate with his arrows. He hurt the leader of the group."

A heavy silence stretched between them before Marlon’s voice cut through it.

"And what exactly were you doing while all this was happening?" His eyes gleamed with quiet scrutiny.

Merlin’s pulse quickened. "I... I..." He swallowed. "At first, a Zuran soldier held me captive, but he left to assist his men."

Marlon’s stare sharpened. "And you did nothing?" His voice was cold. "You useless fool! No wonder Kane humiliated you."

Merlin flinched, shame burning in his chest. "But, Father—if I had fought, wouldn’t that have angered the Zurans even more?"

"Idiot!" Marlon roared, his patience snapping. "How did I end up with a son like you? You should have at least pretended to fight! Do you think honor is given to cowards?"

Merlin clenched his teeth, his humiliation twisting into something darker. His father’s scorn was unbearable, but Kane’s arrogance—that was what burned most.

"He’s too full of himself, Father." Merlin’s voice was low, seething. "Even in the command tent earlier, he spoke to you with no respect."

Marlon’s fists tightened. He did not appreciate being reminded of the young man’s audacity. Even his cousin, Odin, showed deference to him as an elder. But Kane Mendel? The boy had no fear. No restraint.

"Don’t worry," the general muttered, his tone promising retribution. "He will pay for that disrespect."

A slow, satisfied smirk curled Merlin’s lips.

Kane Mendel... just you wait.

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