Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 91: The Trap 2

Chapter 91: The Trap 2

The thunder of a thousand galloping hooves shattered the silence of the night, jolting the weary soldiers from their slumber. Men scrambled in the darkness, hands instinctively grasping for swords and spears, their hearts pounding with the primal fear of an ambush.

"Are we being attacked?"

"I don’t think so."

"It seemed like the cavalry left."

Amidst the whispers in the camp, Lara’s calm voice was heard inside the tent under a tree.

"Aramis, stay with Asael. I’ll inform General Norse that Bener and Captain Amnon have left for Carles," Lara said, her voice steady amid the confusion.

Aramis huffed, his brows furrowing. "Hmp. You’re sounding more and more like Alaric—barking out orders like that."

Lara just shrugged and walked in unhurried strides toward the general’s tent.

Inside, General Marlon Norse was livid. His fist slammed onto the heavy wooden table, making the other commanders flinch. "Who the hell authorized the cavalry to move?"

The assembled commanders exchanged uneasy glances. None had an answer.

"Ahem."

Lara cleared her throat, her voice calm but firm. "General, Bener left a message for you. They departed in urgency—there was no time for delay. He believes something has gone wrong in Carles, and your forces, General, are already more than a day behind." She met his gaze and deliberately emphasized the last words.

Marlon’s piercing eyes locked onto hers, narrowing in suspicion. "How many cavalrymen left?"

"A thousand, under Captain Amnon’s command."

The general’s jaw tightened. Amnon reported directly to Odin—untouchable. Charging him with insubordination would be pointless.

Lara’s eyes didn’t waver. "General, we should march at dawn. Any further delay could mean disaster for our forces in Carles." Her voice was crisp, unwavering.

Marlon’s gaze flicked over her, assessing, dismissing. Without a word, he turned his attention to the other commanders, treating her as though she were nothing but air.

Lara exhaled softly, resisting the urge to scoff. She cast one final glance at the assembled commanders before leaving. A nagging feeling crept into her mind—was Marlon deliberately stalling?

Perhaps she was thinking too much. That general was after all, Odin’s cousin and also her uncle. Or perhaps she wasn’t.

Late into the night, Asael’s fever burned like a smoldering fire, his breath shallow, his skin damp with sweat. Lara sat beside him, a damp cloth in hand, gently dabbing his forehead. The herbal concoction she had fed him should help, as it has antibiotic and anti-inflammatory properties. But she couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at her chest.

"Brother," she murmured, her voice soft, "did you know? I once had a stab wound in my stomach."

She paused, as if pulling the memory from a distant fog. "It happened in Mount Ourea. I encountered insurgents. My father... he found out I had a crush on a lieutenant under his command and punished me by sending me to train with his new recruits. When we were ambushed, I lured the insurgents away to give the others time to escape. But they got me."

"I escaped and hid in a cave." Her fingers traced the bandage wrapped around Asael’s abdomen, her touch featherlight. "My wound was like yours... though not as deep."

"I also got a fever, but her voice lowered, tinged with nostalgia. "I had no one to help me then. I stitched myself up. I fought the fever alone. But back in the modern era, there were medicines—antibiotics, antipyretics—things that could have made it easier."

She fell silent, her thoughts drifting.

Then, barely above a whisper, she added, "Brother... you have to live. I still want to be doted on. I still want to know what it feels like to have an older brother who cares."

The night stretched on, the moonbeam flickering in the dim tent. Lara, exhausted, eventually succumbed to sleep beside Asael, her breathing steady at last.

Unbeknownst to her, Asael’s eyelashes fluttered. He was fighting to break through the thick fog of unconsciousness.

He had heard her voice—her stories, fragmented yet vivid. He heard only some parts and understood some parts. He deduced that she was injured in Mount Ourea and tended to her own wounds, but her last sentence, he heard them loud and clear."

The voice the other night that seemed to run in a loop when he was in the darkness; it was not a hallucination. It was hers.

Then the voice, earlier, he knew the person beside him was Kane, but his voice was different. It was soft and gentle, that of a young lady.

In his haze, the pieces fell into place. A sudden, chilling realization gripped him. He now understood, why Kane looked so much like him.

Kane.

Kane was her.

She was his sister.

Lara did not die.

And she wanted him to live, too.

A teardrop rolled down his eyes. His sister was not dead. She was Kane!

The weight of that truth settled over him as his body surrendered once more to the dark embrace of unconsciousness.

...

Meanwhile in Carles,

A lieutenant burst into the command room, his face pale, his breathing ragged.

"General, I have terrible news! The prisoners—they’ve escaped!"

General Odin’s expression remained eerily composed, but a tremor in his voice betrayed his concern.

"How? Weren’t there enough guards?"

"The guards were found unconscious. They used some kind of smokescreen that induced sleep. Then they fled through a tunnel hidden beneath the dungeon."

A tunnel.

Odin’s sharp mind processed the revelation. "Was it newly dug?"

The lieutenant hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, General. They were newly prepared."

Odin’s jaw clenched.

"Then they plan to attack tonight." His voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of certainty.

He exhaled slowly, a dark gleam in his eyes. "We’ll beat them at their own game."

Turning to his officer, he issued his orders. "They expect our forces to be incapacitated. Let them believe it. Have a few soldiers call for a doctor from outside—make it known that our men were poisoned. Let the enemy see weakness."

He leaned back, a knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"And when they strike... we’ll be ready."

The room was silent for a beat, then—

"Yes, General!"

The battle was about to begin.