Return of the General's Daughter

Lara stepped out of the infirmary, her brothers falling into step behind her. The heavy door groaned shut, muffling the smell of herbs and the faint moans of the wounded. Outside, the air felt cooler, tinged with the fragrance of damp stone and the distant rustle of leaves.

She led them through the dimly lit corridor until the space opened into the castle garden. Moonlight spilled across trimmed hedges and pale blossoms, painting the night with silver. Pausing, Lara pressed two fingers to her lips and let out a sharp, lilting whistle.

Moments later, Grey and Snow came bounding through the shadows, their eyes glinting and tails lashing in eager rhythm. The wolves circled her, nuzzling her hands, their warm breath visible in the chill air.

From her cloak, Lara drew the crumpled strip of cloth Netser had entrusted to her. She crouched, holding it out for them. The wolves inhaled deeply, their nostrils flaring, muscles tensing with sudden focus. Then, without hesitation, they darted off, their paws whispering over the garden path as they followed the scent.

Her brothers exchanged wary glances before hurrying after Lara's pets.

"That was a clever move, Lara," came Galahad's voice from behind. His tone carried a rare note of approval, so unexpected that Lara glanced back at him, startled. Praise was not a coin he spent freely.

Before she could reply, a low, savage growl rippled through the air. Grey and Snow stood rigid before one of the guest houses, hackles raised, teeth bared. Their snarls reverberated against the stone walls, a warning as primal as it was unmistakable.

The guards standing outside had their hands on the hilt of their swords, but they kept on retreating until they were pinned on the wall.

Something—or someone—was inside.

The wolves' snarls tore through the night, raw and unrelenting. Their bodies were taut, muscles quivering as they prowled before the guest house door, claws scraping faint furrows into the earth.

Lara felt her breath catch. Whatever had stirred them into such fury was no ordinary intruder.

"Stay behind me," Asael ordered, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge of anticipation in it.

The brothers fanned out, the torchlight glinting off steel as they closed in around the guest house. The air thickened with the wolves' guttural growls and the faint creak of the door as it shifted against the frame, stirred by the draft.

Lara moved closer, her eyes narrowing. Grey lunged forward suddenly, his teeth snapping inches from the wood. Snow circled wide, lips curled, hackles spiked. They were ready to strike.

"Easy," Lara whispered, though her own heart was pounding in her ears. She pressed her palm gently against Grey's neck, steadying him. His body was trembling with restrained violence.

Inside, something shifted. A muffled scrape—wood against stone, or perhaps a foot dragging. Then silence.

The Norse sibling stilled.. Even the night itself seemed to hold its breath.

Lara's voice cut through the quiet, steady but cold: "Who's in there?"

No reply came, but the wolves' fury only deepened, their snarls resonating like thunder trapped in their throats.

Galahad's gaze pierced through the dim light, his eyes cold and unyielding. "We don't hesitate," he commanded with a steely resolve. "At my signal, we storm in."

"Wait," Asael said. "Why not try knocking at the door first."

Galahad paused briefly, but in the end, he knocked. After trying three times, the door remained shut, so he gave up.

He raised three fingers.

The wolves crouched low, ready to attack.

Two.

The brothers tightened their grips on their blades.

One.

The three brothers pushed the door—

The door crashed inward, slamming against the wall with a hollow thud. Grey leapt first, teeth bared, Snow close at his flank. Their snarls ripped through the darkness as claws scraped against the wooden floorboards.

A startled cry broke the silence.

Lara stepped in behind the wolves, her brothers at her sides, torches flaring to life against the gloom. The orange glow revealed the room in broken fragments—richly woven drapes half torn from their hooks, a chair overturned, goblets spilled across the table, dark liquid pooling on the floor like blood.

And there—at the center of it all—Shaya.

Her back was pressed against the wall, eyes wide with terror. She clutched the front of her dress with one trembling hand, the fabric torn at the shoulder. Before her stood Baron Gabor, his face flushed and twisted with rage at being interrupted. His hand hovered, caught mid-grasp, as if the wolves' sudden intrusion had frozen him in place.

"Get them out!" he barked, voice breaking with fury. "These beasts—"

But the words faltered as Grey lunged, snapping so close that the baron stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the overturned chair.

Lara's voice rang sharp, like the crack of steel: "Step away from her."

Gabor's eyes darted to the Norse siblings, to their drawn swords glinting in the torchlight, then back to Lara's unwavering gaze. His jaw tightened, his arrogance fraying under the weight of the moment.

"She came at the king's summons," he said, forcing his tone into a sneer. "I was merely keeping her… company until His Majesty arrived."

Lara glanced at the Baron.

"The king's summons? How bold of you!"

Shaya's voice, hoarse but clear, cut through his lie. "He cornered me. He wouldn't let me leave."

The brothers surged forward, blades raised, but Lara lifted a hand, halting them. Her eyes never left Gabor. "Company? Is that what you call this?" Her words dripped with cold fury.

For the first time, the baron's composure cracked. Sweat gleamed along his temple, and though he tried to stand tall, the wolves forced him back step by step, until his back pressed hard against the wall.

"You've overstepped," Galahad growled, his voice like stone grinding on stone.

Gabor swallowed hard, his bravado thinning. "You—don't understand," he stammered. "I was acting under orders."

The chamber went still, the weight of his words sinking in like ice.

Lara's gaze narrowed. "Whose orders? Don't tell me, it is the king's."

"But it is his. He said I can have any reward I want because I helped him out."

A loud slap reverberated through the room.

"You are slandering the king." Lara cried in fury. "Brothers, take him to King Aragon."

Baron Gabor slumped on the floor. He pleaded not to be brought before the king. Indeed, he was not brought to the throne room but to the dungeon.

He really regretted it. He thought that their new king was like the previous one.