Return of the General's Daughter

King Heimdal closed his eyes for a long, measured moment, as if weighing the future of a kingdom on the tip of his tongue. When he spoke, his voice was low and deliberate, carrying the gravity of a man who knew the cost of every word.

"Summon General Hemer Frigo," he said. "I only pray it is not already too late. And quietly—send a rider to Kasmeri. He still commands loyalty among the border clans... and controls more than a few bandit groups. His hatred for Zura burns hot, and that fire may yet be useful. If we can win his allegiance, there may still be hope for Northem."

He opened his eyes again, pale and hard as steel. "And one more thing."

Reuben straightened instinctively. "Yes, Father?"

"You will remove your uncle Duval from your inner circle. The court must see where your loyalty truly lie—if they lie with the crown at all."

Reuben’s breath caught in his throat. "But Father, Duval’s network of spies is crucial. If I cast him out, we lose an eye and an ear in every corner of the kingdom."

"He is a dangerous ally," Heimdal said, voice flat and final. "Even if he is your uncle, we do not know where his allegiance truly lies."

Reuben clenched his jaw, the weight of the decision pressing on him like armor he had not yet earned. He hesitated.

"I’ll... consider it."

Heimdal’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile.

"You’ll either act—or Northem will fall. Consideration won’t keep the vultures from circling."

Reuben’s expression darkened, torn between duty and blood. Casting Duval aside—wouldn’t that be like gouging out one of his own eyes?