Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 325: The Aftermath

The kneeling man—Commander Bato—lowered his head further, blood trickling down the bridge of his nose and dripping onto the marble floor.

"Your Highness," he said through clenched teeth, "The rebel group’s coming out was unforeseen. Who would think they would go back on their words and tell everyone that they are the Vengefuls?"

Bato could feel the chill in the room as Rueben’s aura grew even darker.

"When we chased them, they were like ghosts—planted false trails, used decoys. They also led us to believe the assassination attempt on the king had not happened yet. It was supposed to happen tonight."

Prince Reuben’s jaw tightened. He paced the length of the chamber, boots striking hard against the floor. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows behind him, painting his crimson cloak with flickers of blue and gold, a twisted mockery of serenity.

"You thought wrong," Reuben hissed, whirling on him. "You let them slip through the capital gates. You let them poison a Duke. A Duke, Bato! And now Kasmeri—my bastard half-cousin—is gaining sympathy!"

"My prince, the duke had a heart attack. We—"

"You failed, Commander Bato." Reuben spat, pointing an accusatory finger. And now, the Defence Minister is whispering. They wanted to investigate the cause of Duke Caspian’s death, and the Caspian family is not without allies."

The commander flinched. The duke’s death was due to a heart attack. "I will rectify this, Your Highness. Just give the order."

Reuben’s eyes narrowed to slits. "You will do nothing without my order. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Reuben turned away, rubbing his temples. "We need to find the man Duke Caspian spoke to in Queen Astrid’s room. What did the king tell him? " he murmured, mostly to himself. "If he’s alive, he may know something—he’s been close to Caspian for too long."

A faint knock at the door.

The prince’s steward stepped in, bowing low. "A messenger, Your Highness. Urgent correspondence from the Duchess of Greenshire."

Reuben waved him in. "Speak."

The steward handed over a sealed scroll. Reuben broke the wax with a flick of his dagger. His eyes skimmed the contents—then froze.

He read it again. Slower.

"What is it, my prince?" Commander Bato dared to ask.

Reuben handed him the scroll without a word.

The commander read aloud:

"To His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Reuben,

It has come to my attention that a man bearing the likeness of Kasmer has arrived in the northern quarter, claiming refuge in one of the inns. The innkeeper accepted him under Duke Caspian’s authority.

However, a second man of identical appearance was seen in the southern market district yesterday. He was reportedly fleeing the scene of a fire—one linked to the deaths we are now investigating."

Two Kasmeris.

I suggest immediate clarification.

Respectfully yours,

Duchess of Greenshire.

***

Bato looked up. "This... this confirms it. One of them is an imposter."

"Or both of them are," Reuben said quietly. "Either way... we now have a thread."

He moved to the balcony, his gaze drifting over the sprawl of the capital below—the white spires, the haze from fires that still smoldered, the frantic hum of people in fear and confusion.

"We’ll find them both," Reuben muttered. "And when we do, I’ll extract the truth—no matter how deep I must dig."

Meanwhile, back in Orion’s cottage that evening...

Kashmeri wiped his hands clean at the basin, removing the last traces of the herbal paste Orion had insisted he use. The mask was off, and his real face was visible now—the sharp cheekbones, the straight nose, the princely gaze that even he couldn’t disguise, but the scar on his upper face...

Alaric stood leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

"You shouldn’t have come," he said, his tone low. "Now you’ve created a lot of mess," Prince Alaric said, as he approached the stone bench under an ancient tree.

Kasmeri gave a humorless smile. "I’m already in the palace’s sights. What difference does it make? Besides..." he glanced over, eyes gleaming.

Kasmeri stared at him. "Why? Why are you helping me?"

Alaric paused for a long moment. "Because the only person who ever treated me like a brother... was you and Agilus."

Kasmeri looked away, jaw clenched. He remembered the first day he met him. He was ten, and Alaric was 7. The young boy was left in the ruins of a watch tower, outside the city walls.

At first, he was just watching, doing nothing. Even when darkness claimed Savadra, he kept waiting and listening to the wails that turned into sobs and then whimpered. Finally, there were only the sounds of cicadas and other nocturnal animals.

That was when he approached the little boy who had cried himself to sleep. But when he was near, he heard a hiss, and thanks to his high-level martial skills, he dodged and, simultaneously, caught the snake and killed it.

Suddenly, Agilus, still wearing Nasser’s face, burst through the back door, panting. "Master Orion! The guards—they’re here. Royal guards. They’re heading up the trail!"

Orion stood up from the stone bench, wiping his hands on his apron. "Of course they are," he muttered.

Alaric’s two secret guards appeared.

Orion grabbed a bundle of scrolls and tossed them to Kasmeri. "Go through the hidden tunnel. Now. You and Alaric both."

Kasmeri shook his head. "No. I won’t run. Let Alaric hide. I am the real thing, and my identity is the Merchant of Cavinta."

"You want to die?" Orion snapped. "There’s no reasoning with Reuben’s men. If they catch you, they’ll brand you guilty before you speak a word."

Alaric nodded. "We’ll slip out, lay low in the forest beyond the cottage. Once I’m in touch with my allies, we’ll clear this up."

"Go!" Orion barked.

As they slipped through the trapdoor beneath the old hearth, Agilus turned to Orion. "What if they find us?"

Orion gave him a grim smile. "Then I hope you’re better at lying than thinking."

Kasmeri and Alaric crouched beneath the cover of a fallen tree, the last light dying in the west. freewebnøvel.coɱ

"Tell me the truth," Kasmeri said. "Do you trust me?"

Alaric looked at him. "I trust that you hate nobility more than I do."

"That’s not an answer."

"It’s the only one I have."

From the trees behind them came a soft click—too sharp to be an animal.

Kasmeri’s hand moved instinctively to his belt. "We’re not alone."

A figure stepped out, cloaked in black, face partially veiled. A symbol glinted from their chest: a black sun split down the middle.

"You don’t know who you really are, Kasmeri," the figure said in a woman’s voice. "But we do."

Kasmeri’s blood ran cold.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The woman didn’t answer. She dropped a scroll at Alaric’s feet, then vanished into the trees.

Alaric picked it up. Unrolled it. Read it aloud.

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