Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 571: Encounter with the Prince

Outside the grand banquet hall, Lara walked beside Nympha, her slow, measured steps echoing against the polished marble floor as candlelight shimmered across gilded walls. Towering portraits of Westalis’s past kings stretched along the corridor, their eyes stern, proud, and eternally watchful. The current dynasty had ruled for over a century, and five grand portraits stood in solemn succession, each framed in ornate gold and silver.

"To be honest," Lara murmured, tilting her head slightly as she studied the painted coronets and armor, "I admire Westalis for their reverence toward cultural history. These walls don’t merely display rulers — they preserve legends." Her lips curved faintly. "Truly admirable."

"Indeed, Empress," Nympha replied, her tone warm with admiration. "Westalis possesses a cultural depth far richer than the other three kingdoms."

Lara shot her a warning glance. "Nympha, didn’t I tell you? I’m here as an envoy. Watch how you address me. Don’t let it slip."

"I’m sorry, Lady Lara," Nympha said, though the subtle teasing lilt in her voice betrayed her amusement.

The air shifted.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed from the hall’s entrance.

Lara’s expression tightened as a tall figure emerged from the shadows. Netser. His shoulders were rigid, his face clouded with something dark and restless, like he was escaping from something or someone.

Walking behind him were two figures — a dignified man clad in formal court attire, and a delicate young woman whose resemblance to Netser was unmistakable: the same eyes, the same refined features, softened by gentleness.

Netser paused when he noticed Lara and Nympha. Inclining his head slightly in greeting, he made to pass them.

"Netser, wait." Lara deliberately stopped him, her voice light but calculated. "Aren’t you going to introduce them? They seem to know you rather well."

Her gaze lingered on the young woman. She must be related by blood to Netser. That much was obvious.

Netser’s jaw tightened. "This... this is my younger sister, Ziva," he said, his voice threaded with carefully restrained emotion. "And her husband — the Marquis of Vestro, Landor Musni."

Lara’s breath stilled for a fraction of a second.

Before coming to Westalis, she had memorized everything — the political histories, the noble alliances, the betrayals tied to Netser and Shaya’s past. She had prepared herself to meet Netser’s old comrades, old enemies. She had not expected this encounter to happen so soon.

She was however surprised to learn that Netser has a sister who survived the massacre. Even Netser himself told them that his entire family was exterminated and he was the only survivor.

Her gaze sharpened as it slid back to Netser, lingering with quiet scrutiny. He looked away.

"These are Lara Norse and Nympha Salas," Netser added stiffly. "Envoys from Azurverda."

When Lara turned fully toward Landor, he found himself momentarily lost.

He had always thought Ziva beautiful — but Lara was something else entirely. Not seductive. Not provocative. Simply... otherworldly. Her presence commanded the space without effort, her crimson, flowing dress moving like living flame around her form, adding a fiery charm to her beauty.

"It is a pleasure to meet the Marquis and his wife," Lara said smoothly, offering a gentle smile.

Landor felt his breath catch before he could help himself.

He did not desire her — that wasn’t it — but it felt as though he were looking at something rare, something too perfect to be touched.

"Such a lovely envoy..." Ziva whispered softly, awed.

"Darling," Landor said, gently placing a hand at the small of Ziva’s back, "since they are new here, why don’t you show them around the palace?" 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Ziva was about to agree when the air seemed to deepen, the very atmosphere shifting.

A deep, resonant voice cut through the hall from behind them.

"I will take responsibility for that, since they are esteemed guests of our kingdom."

Five heads turned.

An entourage moved forward with quiet authority, finely dressed guards parting the air before them. At the head walked the Crown Prince of Westalis, his presence commanding, effortless.

"Greetings, Your Highness," Landor and Ziva said in unison, offering practiced bows.

Netser, Lara, and Nympha followed a heartbeat later, having confirmed his identity by instinct rather than certainty.

The Crown Prince’s gaze lingered on Lara — assessing, curious — before drifting back to Netser.

"Netser... so it is truly you." His smile was gentle, almost relieved. "You’ve finally come back."

He stepped closer, his voice lowering.

"Father has cleared your name." A pause. "It is good to have you home."

Netser’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched, the tendons in his forearms trembling with restrained fury. For a breath, it seemed he might break the perfect stillness of courtly decorum but when he spoke, his tone was impeccably respectful, polished to a deadly sheen.

"I thank His Majesty for his grace. However, Your Highness, I stand here as an envoy of Azurverda."

The Crown Prince studied him in silence. For an instant, something cold and predatory flickered through his eyes — a darkness too sharp to be accidental — before it vanished behind an easy, aristocratic smile.

"I see."

His attention shifted, unhurried and deliberate, settling on Lara. He stepped just a fraction closer than politeness required, head slightly inclined as though examining a jewel.

Now that she was this near, he could clearly discern her delicate features, the quiet steel in her posture, and the subtle defiance behind her calm gaze.

"And these two," he said softly, "are female companions to your delegation?"

His eyes did not leave Lara.

"Where are the men?" he continued, voice mild but edged with something sharper. "Have they already hidden themselves inside the banquet hall?"

"You misunderstand, Your Highness," Netser answered, his voice tight with control. "These women are members of the Azurverda delegation. They are here to negotiate trade matters between our two kingdoms."

The Crown Prince’s eyebrows lifted slightly, as if amused.

"How... unconventional," he murmured. "I had always believed Azurverda to be a rigid young empire. How curious that it entrusts diplomacy to women."

Lara stepped forward, undeterred, her gaze level with his.

"We are as capable as the men of the Azurverda Empire, Your Highness."

Silence fell.

For a long moment, his smile did not reach his eyes.

"Capable?" he echoed quietly. "Tell me, Lady Envoy... in your homeland, what exactly do women do — besides decoratively pleasing men, maintaining their households, and producing heirs?"

Netser moved sharply, anger burning through the careful mask he wore.

"Your Highness—"

Lara lifted a hand. A silent order.

Before she could answer, another voice cleaved through the tension like a drawn blade.

"Greetings, Your Highness."