Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 98: Unexpected Meeting 2

Chapter 98: Unexpected Meeting 2

"Damn it!"

The sharp curse shattered the moment of awe.

Startled, the soldiers turned to see Jethru, his sharp eyes locked on the land below. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a flicker of anger.

"I can’t believe they burned the town hall," he muttered.

Alaric and his men followed his gaze. Far below, Carles’ town hall lay in smoldering ruin, its once-proud structure reduced to a blackened rubble. The remnant of smoke still curled into the sky, a ghostly reminder of the devastation.

Jethru wasted no time. "Let’s move," he ordered, his tone clipped.

He led them down the mountain with the confidence of a man who had traveled this path countless times. Mount Roca was mostly barren rock, unlike other mountains, with only a few hardy trees clinging to the slopes. The descent was relatively easy, their boots crunching against the uneven hard ground as they made their way downward.

After hours of careful navigation, they finally reached a flatter area—a tranquil plateau where a pine forest stretched out before them, a stream winding lazily through the trees. It was the perfect place to rest, and they intended to take a late lunch before continuing.

But as they stepped into the clearing, the air suddenly grew heavy with tension.

From the dense shadows of towering pines, figures emerged—silent as ghosts, their bows drawn, arrows nocked, each aimed with lethal precision.

Alaric’s soldiers gripped the hilt of their swords.

The air hung thick with the scent of pine and the metallic tang of tension. The slightest move could trigger a bloodbath.

Then, a voice rang out—firm, authoritative.

"Lower your weapons!"

The command came from behind, where General Odin stood, his hand raised in signal. His soldiers hesitated for only a heartbeat before obeying, though their gazes remained sharp and wary.

With deliberate steps, Odin approached the man whose posture radiated dominance. Without hesitation, he bowed deeply and spoke with measured respect.

"Apologies, Your Highness. My men failed to recognize you."

Jethru’s breath hitched. Your Highness? His head snapped toward Alaric. Did he hear that correctly? Was Alaric... royalty? Then a realization hit him. If he was a royalty, then pairing him with his disciple would be futile.

Alaric, however, barely reacted to Jethru’s shock. His expression was cold, there was a hard edge in his voice.

"No need for formality," he said, the irritation in his tone was unmistakable. "What happened, General Norse? You should have received my message. Why are you here in Carles?" His words were sharp, each question striking like a blade.

Odin Norse lowered his gaze, his jaw tightening. "The second prince overruled my decision, Your Highness. He heeded the advice of his council instead. But because of your warning, we were prepared. The Estalis soldiers who lay in ambush at Meander Pass were crushed. Those who pursued us through Graza Pass never expected that we had constructed a bridge. By the time they arrived at the rift, we were long gone—and there was no chance for them to catch up."

Alaric’s gaze flicked toward the central square. Flames had reduced the town hall to blackened ruins, and his voice had turned ice-cold.

"The town hall, who burned it?"

Odin exhaled sharply, his expression grim. "The soldiers of Estalis. At first, they seemed caught off guard, surprised that our forces numbered fewer than a thousand. They surrendered peacefully—or so we thought. Then the people of Carles brought us food, and when some of my men collapsed, we discovered the food had been poisoned. Before we could act, the prisoners had escaped—through a tunnel dug beneath the dungeon."

Alaric’s brows knit together.

"They planned to strike in the dead of night," Odin continued, his tone edged with contempt. "What they did not expect was that we uncovered their scheme. When they entered the town hall, we turned the ambush on them. Realizing their failure, their commander set the building ablaze, hoping to trap us in the inferno. But they underestimated us. We escaped unscathed—ironically, the soldiers we subdued created just the distraction we needed when they escaped from the fire."

A scoff escaped Jethru before he could stop it. He clamped his jaw shut, reminding himself he was in the presence of royalty. If only he had known earlier—he would have charged double for Alaric’s stay at Galeya’s Throne.

Alaric’s sharp gaze shifted. "The two soldiers who carried my message—when did they leave Hainai? And which route did they take?"

Odin blinked in surprise. So those two were supposed to return? His brow furrowed slightly.

"Your Highness, they never left Hainai. Kane Mendel chose to stay. The night he arrived, he treated the most severely wounded soldiers. By morning, he had joined the Eagle Team on a scouting mission."

Jethru’s expression darkened. Understanding clicked into place.

"I knew it." His jaw clenched. "That willful disciple of mine has thrown herself into war. Damn her!"

"Her?" Agilus and General Odin asked at the same time.

"I mean, him." Jethru coughed and corrected himself, then shifted his gaze into the horizon.

General Odin scanned him with his gaze. A flicker of recognition crossed his face.

"Master?" He asked tentatively.

Jethru froze. A chill crawled down his spine.

"Who is your master?" he said curtly. "I have only one disciple."

Odin’s frown deepened. Could he be wrong? Yet the resemblance—the presence—was unmistakable. His scrutiny intensified, eyes locking onto the white-haired man before him.

Alaric and Agilus exchanged glances, watching the silent battle unfold.

Then Odin spoke again, quieter this time. "I cannot be mistaken. You are Master Helio—"

Jethru’s gaze darkened, and before the name had fully left Odin’s lips, his voice turned razor-sharp.

"My name is Jethru Mendel." The words were cold, final. He tried to push a distant memory to the back of his mind.

For a long moment, Odin studied him. And then, understanding dawned. Of course. Twenty-five years had passed. He knew why Jethru would deny his true identity.

Odin straightened. "Forgive me," he murmured. "I must have mistaken you for someone else." But in his heart, he sent silent thanks to the heavens. His master was still alive.

"Where is the Eagle Team now?"

Agilus shot the prince a sidelong glance, suspicion flickering across his face.

"Why are you so concerned with their whereabouts?"

Alaric didn’t even look at him. His tone was impassive, but there was something else beneath it—something guarded.

"My guard is still with Kane. I want him back."

His voice was indifferent. But Agilus wasn’t convinced.

Neither was Jethru.

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