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Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 390: The Queenโs Gambit
The next morning, spurred by Helgaโs quiet but firm insistence, Reuben convened his inner council to the stone chamber buried beneath the citadelโa narrow, torch-lit room with no windows and fewer secrets. The air was thick with dampness and old dust, the walls echoing the quiet dread that had begun to settle over Northem. ๐ฏ๐ป๐๐๐๐ฎ๐๐ท๐๐ฟ๐๐.๐๐ธ๐ข
Duval arrived first, pale and tight-lipped, shadows beneath his eyes betraying a night of unrest. He clutched his weather-stained coat close to his chest, as though the intelligence he carried was not merely valuable, but volatile. Moments later, Malik came with his son Espiyor, their boots heavy on the stone floor, weariness carved into their features after a sleepless vigil at the eastern front.
Last came Solanio, unhurried and unnervingly at ease, his embroidered cloak swirling behind him like a banner of indifference. He swept into the room with a half-smile, as though the growing storm beyond Northemโs walls was little more than a show to him.
Helga stood near the stone table at the chamberโs center, silent for a beat, waiting. Five minutes passed. Then, with deliberate steps and the weight of legacy, the patriarchs of the Barson clan entered. Time had bent their spines and paled their skin, but their eyes still held steel.
"Father. Grandpa," Helga said with a respectful nod.
"Great-Grandpa. Grandpa," Reuben echoed.
The rest of the room dipped their heads in quiet deference.
"Begin," Helga commanded, her voice slicing through the stillness.
Duval stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thereโs been a breach. Word has reached us that the joint forces of Estalis and Zura sent to Fereya are nothing more than a diversion. Their true target is Savadra. And moreโ" he hesitated. "The King of Estalis was found dead in his bed... over a week ago. His son, who married a Zuran princess, now wears the crown."
Silence cracked like a whip.
"What?" Reuben barked, stunned. "He died last weekโand we only hear of it now?"
Duval lowered his gaze, saying nothing.
The elder Barson, his voice gravelly with age, asked, "How did this information reach you?"
Duvalโs mouth tightened. He glanced sideways at Helgaโs fatherโhis uncleโwhose stare was like a blade at his throat. Reluctantly, he answered.
"An arrow struck a post in our camp. It carried a note. The archerโwhoever they wereโnever revealed themselves."
He did not admit the truthโthat he and several commanders had been meeting in that very moment, unaware of any threat. The implications were damning. Had the arrow carried death instead of a message, they would not be standing now.
"A precise shot," the old patriarch murmured.
"Is it from, the camp of General Odin?"
Duval swallowed. "I... cannot say, Grandpa. Perhaps. But it might have been someone else."
The old man gave a raspy chuckle. "Who else but Odin? And if not him... then it should be Alaric."
Color rose to Duvalโs cheeks.
Helga stepped closer to the table, arms folded. "Weโve since confirmed the kingโs death. The palace claims illness took him, but the timing and silence are too convenient."
A heavy silence fell over the room again, each man grappling with the implications: betrayal, succession, and warโcloser now than ever.
"Did you check the authenticity of the report? What if it is a ruse to mislead us?"
"Yes,we validated it your Majesty , and confirmed that the King of Estalis died a week ago. Our spy said he was murdered by his own son."
Helga and Reuben exchanged glances. Guilt written on their faces.
The torchlight flickered as the silence stretched, coiling like smoke in the stale chamber air. Then, with a sudden, sharp thump of his cane against the stone floor, the patriarch exploded.
"Damn fools!" His voice, gravel and thunder, bounced off the walls. "We sit here reactingโlike farmers chasing rats after the granaryโs been ransacked! A king died, a crown shifts to Zuraโs lap, and no one in this room saw it coming?"
Duval flinched. Even Malik looked away. Only Solanio remained motionless, examining his fingernails.
"We have eyes and ears in every outpost, every corridor of power, and yet a man with a bride slips past us and poisons the board." The patriarchโs voice shook, not with weakness, but with rage. "I built this house on strategy and watchfulness. Now I see nothing but complacency and incompetence."
Reuben stepped forward, chest rising. His temper, like his blood, burned fast and red.
"Let me ride for Northem myself," he said, his jaw set like iron. "Give me fifty thousand men. If they think Northem weak, Iโll teach them fear before dawn. They wonโt set foot in the capital..."
"Youโll ride into a trap!" Helga snapped, her voice colder than the stones around them. "Thatโs exactly what they want."
Reubenโs eyes blazed. "So we sit? Wait? Let Estalis and Zura divide up Northem while we whisper in candlelight?"
"Enough." The patriarchโs voice was lower now, but no less fierce. "You think war is a matter of blood and valor? You think screaming for a horse and sword makes you a leader?" He leaned toward Reuben, nostrils flaring. "Your father would know what to do."
The words landed hard. Reubenโs face hardened, but he said nothing.
Helga turned slightly, her gaze distant now, unfocused.
Heimdal.
The name passed silently through her mind, not as a thought, but as an ache. Her husband would be the one to calculate before charging, to see a dozen outcomes before anyone else had recognized the question. He wouldโve seen through the decoy. He would have connected the Zuran and Estalisโ political alliance through marriage, the Estalian kingโs sudden death.
But Heimdal lay wasted in his bed, too frail to even think.
"I need his voice," she murmured, not realizing sheโd spoken aloud.
The old patriarch turned to her, his expression softening for the briefest moment. "So do I," he said.
A quiet settled over the room again, this time not of failure but of reckoning. The weight of what had been lost, and what now must be done.
Helga drew a long breath, pulling herself back into the present. "Reuben. Youโll not ride to Fereya. Not until we know what awaits you there. If Estalis is truly in Zuraโs pocket, we may already be too late. We canโt afford more boldness without purpose."
Reubenโs hands curled into fists, but he gave a stiff nod.
"We need eyes in Carles," Helga said. "A whisper before a sword. If theyโve moved to take the capital, thereโs still time to break their holdโbut not through brute force."
Solanio raised an eyebrow. "So we gamble?"
Helga turned to him. "No. We play. And this time, we donโt miss the opening move."