Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 354: The Escape

"THE PRISONERS HAVE ESCAPED!"

Luki’s voice split the silence like a whipcrack, jolting the camp into chaos. Men scrambled from their sleeping mats on the ground, eyes wild with confusion, only to find themselves bound with iron shackles, while the others with ropes.

It was already too late. The shadows of the forest had swallowed the escaping prisoners whole.

Luki cursed. His right wrist was still shackled to his deputy, the heavy iron links clinking with every movement. But his left hand was free. From his boot, he retrieved a small, glinting object—the spare key to the shacklebolts. Of course, Luki had a backup. A man doesn’t rise to command a band of thieves and mercenaries without contingency plans. He lived by them.

"Hold still," he growled, freeing his deputy in a quick twist of the wrist. He shoved the key into the man’s hand. "Get the others out, fast. And give me a report of how many prisoners escaped and what their backgrounds are."

He was curious. What were the servant’s thoughts when she selected those she freed?

Then, from his trouser pocket, he pulled a whistle of carved bone and blew sharply. A falcon, sleek and silent as death, descended from the night and landed on his shoulder. Without hesitation, he tied three blood-red ribbons to its leg and released it into the dark. The bird soared into the sky, a silent herald of bad news.

"Captain!" a breathless guard rushed up, pale-faced. "The horses—they’re gone! Every one of them!"

Luki spun toward him, eyes blazing. "Do you think I’m blind, fool?" he roared. "Of course they’re gone!" He kicked a twig near the fire pit where the remnants of a charred sachet still smoldered. He was angry. The reminder from the guard even made him more furious. freewёbnoνel.com

His face darkened. He replayed the events of dinner in his mind. A scent—faint but familiar—had hung in the air. He’d dismissed it then. Now he knew better. It was a sleeping drug.

"It was the servant," he spat. "She fooled us all."

"The servant, Captain?" his deputy asked, startled. "What did the servant do?"

Luki bent to examine the ashes, then pulled a crumpled candy wrapper from his pocket. "She burned something in this sachet—some kind of masking incense. And this candy... I should’ve trusted my instincts. Damn it!" He lashed out, kicking a twisted root until it snapped.

A guard stood before them with a report in hand.

"Captain, the prisoners they took along have one thing in common. They were framed, or they were accused of assaulting or murdering a noble or a guard to protect their loved ones. The one you whipped earlier crippled a baron because he almost raped his wife."

"What now, Captain?" the deputy asked, unease written across his face.

"We wait for reinforcements," Luki said through clenched teeth. "Rest while you can. They’ve gone toward Mount Ponte." His eyes narrowed, gaze fixed on the horizon cloaked in darkness. "And that... is their mistake. Ponte is my hunting ground, my playground. It is where I grew up."

...

Meanwhile, at the edge of the forest...

Alaric and Orion met the escaped prisoners at the fork where the slopes of Mount Ponte and Vulcan diverged. They’d stolen twenty horses in the chaos—added to Orion’s ten, they now had thirty mounts for sixty-five people.

Lara had freed thirty prisoners, those who had been falsely accused, framed, or had killed only in defense of loved ones. The children and the women were placed on horseback, led by their husbands on foot. Atalia remained in the sidecar, and Amnon took the task of pushing it. For as long as the path would allow, they would not abandon the sidecar.

Their escape was grueling. The night was ink-black, with not even a sliver of moon to guide them. But Jethru, Orion, and Aramis had thought ahead—they caught fireflies and placed them inside four glass jars. Each jar flickered like a lantern, casting just enough light for the horses to find their footing.

They traveled along the riverbank, skirting the edge of the forest. No one dared enter the woods, not while darkness enveloped the earth.

When Odin was sure they weren’t being followed, he called for a brief rest. He gathered his sons and hurried to the front, where Lara marched with Alaric and Aramis. Aramis had once scouted the northern part of the Alta-Sierra, and now led them with quiet confidence.

"Sis!" Asael rushed forward and threw his arms around Lara, gripping her as if to make sure she was real. Only when a shiver passed down his spine did he release her. She had removed her disguise. Her face was bare now, resolute, beautiful, familiar.

"Do you have news of Arabella?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

"She’s safe," Lara replied. "Mother fled with her the day you five were taken from Carles. Loyal guards and servants went with them. They met up with Gideon, Peredur, and Uncle Primo in Mount Roca. They’re in Calma now."

A breath escaped General Odin, relief heavy in the exhale. His worst fear had been that Reuben had captured Freya. But she was safe.

Lara embraced Galahad, Bener, and Percival in turn. "I’m so glad you’re safe. Did they... did they hurt you?"

"They starved us and tortured us mentally. Thankfully, the guards there were bought by Alderan. He tried to sneak us some water and food every other day." Galahad answered, his voice gloomy.

"Alderan..." Lara murmured.

Prince Alaric’s gaze sharpened, unreadable.

"Yes," Bener interjected. "Alderan thought that we suffered injustice, but he had no voice. He showed us kindness because he remembered that Father tried to save him and his mother once."

Lara hummed. She was not interested in the affairs of the royals in the capital. Her eyes found Percival, who had remained quiet.

"Perci, are you alright?" Lara asked him with a voice full of concern.

He nodded but said nothing.

Lara sought Asael’s eyes, seeking for answers. She saw signs of psychological trauma, and she was worried for Percival.

"I guess he was shocked to see Father being beaten and disrespected. And the dungeon is not a good place to sleep, and..." Asael paused, and his face was filled with gloom. "In our last few nights in the dungeon, they placed us in an ordinary cell, and a prisoner died right beside Percival."

Lara’s fists clenched, and her lips were pursed into a thin line.

’Reuben... You will pay. I will never forgive you.’

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