Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 323: The Bastard and The Scumbag

The silence in the room thickened, coiled like smoke.

Kasmeri lay on the ground, breath ragged beneath the weight of the masked figure. Then the pressure eased, and the stranger rose fluidly, standing tall before the king.

"Rise," King Heimdal commanded. Kasmeri struggled to get up as his hands were bound by a rope. The more he tried to untie it, the tighter it became.

Heimdal remained still, one hand resting over the subtle ache in his chest, the other gripping the hilt of a ceremonial dagger hidden beneath his robe. His eyes never left Kasmeri.

"Why did you return? Aren’t you scared of the consequence?" the king finally said to the black clad man before him.

"If I hadn’t come, then wouldn’t you become a corpse?" He snickered. "What do you intend to do with him?" He gestured to the man who had just stood.

"What else? He attempted to murder the king and set fires within the palace." The king paused and scanned the man from head to toe. "He impersonated the first prince to commit these crimes."

"Father." The man in black bowed his head and respectfully called out to the king.

Kasmeri’s eyes behind his mask widened. "Prince Alaric?"

Alaric did not spare him a glance. His full focus was on the king. "He saved my life once. And I saved your life today. I am asking, Father, to let him go this once and let him find the truth himself."

He approached King Heimdal and spoke the words that only the king heard. "Then you will have an indispensable ally."

Prince Alaric took off his mask and faced Kasmeri. "Go to the duchy of Greenshire. There, you will find what you are seeking. But before that, withdraw your men from the capital and clear my name."

King Heimdal was surprised. How did Prince Alaric know the masked man? It seemed that they had known each other for a long time.

Alaric raised his sword and cut the rope that bound Kasmeri’s hands.

"Go!" The king’s word was a command—and a permission.

Kasmeri moved, vanishing as swiftly as he had arrived—only a whisper of cloth and a fleeting shadow escaping through the window.

Alaric followed.

"Wait!" But Heimdal’s word was too late. Alaric was also gone, swallowed by the night.

Later that night, in the castle of the Duke of Greenshire

The corridors were dark and abandoned. Kasmeri silently walked through them, sword in hand. His mask was gone. His scarred face, for once, bare—gripped by uncertainty and grim resolve.

The guards and the servants had been drugged and unconscious. Only one man remained conscious in this wing now.

Duke Caspian.

Kasmeri paused before the heavy door. His fingers hovered over the handle.

He did not knock.

He kicked it open.

The duke was at his desk, dressed in a velvet robe the color of old blood. A half-filled goblet of dark wine trembled slightly as the door struck the stone wall. The man looked up, startled—but only for a second.

"Kasmeri," he said, smoothing his expression. "So. The storm has found its way home. It could only mean one thing. You failed to kill the king, and he let you go."

"You lied to me," Kasmeri said coldly.

Caspian stood, slowly. "I gave you truth when you had none."

"You gave me poison," Kasmeri snapped. "You turned me into a weapon, aimed at your own cousin."

"You’re wrong." Caspian raised a hand, voice calm, slippery. "I liberated you. I gave you purpose, shaped your fury into something glorious. I made you strong. You were born from shame. I gave that shame meaning."

"You slept with a servant. Lied to her. Let her raise me in the shadow of a man who never touched her. You let me grow up believing I was a king’s bastard."

"Would it have been better if I’d told you the truth?" Caspian hissed. "That your mother meant nothing to me? That you were just a consequence of one of my games? I spared you that pain. Gave you a legend instead of a life."

"Your title, your wealth, do you think it was from your stepfather?" Duke Caspian downed the wine in his glass. "It was from me, Kasmeri."

Kasmeri’s knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword. "You gave me rage. Fed me with half-truths. Your kindness is cruel, Duke Caspian."

Caspian took a step forward, eyes glinting. "And yet you stand there, weapon in hand. The man I raised you to be. Don’t pretend you came here only for the truth. You came here to finish it."

Kasmeri didn’t move. His sword remained lowered. "You are not worth killing."

The words landed like a slap. Caspian flinched.

"You—"

"I should have seen it," Kasmeri said quietly. "When you pulled me out of the ruins. The way you’d speak of King Heimdal with venom behind closed doors. The way you praised my mother which made me hate my supposed father even more. You envied him. Everything you did—was about him. You think you can defeat him, but you are nothing compared to the king."

Caspian’s face darkened. His mouth opened—but no words came. He knew that King Heimdal had already learned of his schemes when Kasmeri entered his study. There was only one end for him. He will be reduced to a commoner or execution.

A sudden tightness gripped his heart. He staggered backward, one hand clutching at his chest.

Kasmeri narrowed his eyes, confused.

Caspian gasped, collapsing into the chair behind him. His wine spilled, crimson staining the documents on his desk. His other hand clawed the edge of the wood, eyes wide with panic.

"No..." he rasped. "No, not like this—Help me. Call the doctor."

Kasmeri stepped forward, but did not move to help. He watched. Silent.

"You... ungrateful..." Caspian coughed violently. "I made you..."

His voice crumbled into a wet, choking sound. His body jerked once—then slumped.

His hand slid from the desk. The wine dripped onto the floor. The duke’s head lolled, his mouth frozen in half-formed scorn.

The room was silent.

Kasmeri stood still, a cold numbness blooming inside him. There was no triumph in his eyes. No relief. Only the quiet devastation of a man whose enemy had already died.

It was the heavens that punished his sins. Perhaps, God did not want him to stain the sword with his father’s blood.

Later that night

The moon hung above the bamboo forest behind a quaint cottage, pale and watchful.

Kasmeri stood beside a small pond that looked silver under the moonlight. His mask lay beside him, abandoned.

A gentle rustle behind him.

"You didn’t kill him," Alaric said, stepping from the shadows. Another shadow joined him.

"He killed himself," Kasmeri replied, staring into the water.

Alaric nodded slowly.

"Your mother..." Orion began.

"Let her rest," Kasmeri interrupted.

There was a long pause.

"And what will you be now, Kasmeri? Duke Caspian didn’t have a son from the Duchess." Orion asked.

Kasmeri looked toward the horizon. The sky was beginning to pale with the first hint of dawn.

"The Merchant of Cavinta," Kasmeri said.

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