Return of the General's Daughter

The truth? The guards never stood a chance.

The servant had slipped after them like a shadow, every footfall silent, and her presence unnoticeable. Beneath the guise of Atalia’s humble servant, she had studied their faces and their movements. She memorized weaknesses and patterns.

She waited until they stepped far enough into the bush, away from the glow of the fire, where darkness turned thick and soundless.

That was where she struck.

With the precision of a trained assassin, she jabbed a tiny, needle-thin weapon into the base of each man’s neck. The venom worked fast—paralysis, confusion, nausea—mimicking the symptoms of a snakebite.

Only one real snake had been deployed, coiled carefully beneath a pile of leaves. It was placed there by the man in black with ghost-white hair, hidden beneath a turban — Jethru.

And yes, the servant who bowed and smiled, who passed out sweets with meek eyes—was no ordinary maid. She was Atalia’s sworn protector and a covert agent of General Odin. She was Lara.

She had learned much. Half the prisoners had been framed. Others had broken the law to shield family or defy corrupt nobles. They were the brave men cast aside by a rotten system.

Now, she would give them a chance to fight back.

Back at the camp, Luki’s coal-dark eyes reflected the firelight, but beneath the glow flickered something rarely seen in him—fear.

Seven men were incapacitated. Three horses gone. And it was only the first night of the transfer. He must be cursed to suffer such disgraceful setbacks.