Return of the General's Daughter

The entire city of Calma bustled like a stirred anthill as final preparations for the march to Northem began.

Blacksmiths hammered at dawn, their forges glowing with molten fire. Rows of armors and weapons—swords, spears, and short knives were laid out, inspected, polished to a gleam—then dulled again with ash, so as not to glint in the sun and betray their movement.

Medicines along with dried meat strips prepared by Samuel, Grandma Arlina, and the Gabirella Guild were packed in satchel bags, and each soldier was given one.

Horses were fed, groomed, and fitted with leather barding, crafted and assembled by Lina and her team of leathersmiths and seamstresses. They embossed Calman crest on them and on every fatigues they made for the soldiers. The scent of iron, sweat, and burning oil mingled in the air.

Thalia personally prepared Logan’s satchel and handed it to him. She added more portions and stuffed more medicines.

In the inner stable yard, General Odin barked orders with his usual deep voice. Towering and broad-shouldered, he moved with the economy of a man who’d spent more years on battlefields than in halls. His great sword was strapped across his back, and his armor bore the Norse’s family crest.

"Load only what you need. We move fast, not fat. The north won’t wait while we pack silver goblets," he snapped at a young officer. "And tell the cooks—three days’ rations per man. Salted meat. No stew."

From the balcony of his chambers, Alaric watched with eagle eyes. A sharp contrast from the calm observer of the morning, he was now clad in partial armor. His breastplate was dark steel, chased with enamel in the shape of a firebird whose wings touched the tip of its other: the Calman crest. His cloak had been coated with titanium, an extra layer of protection. All the Norse men and Alaric’s elite guards, now serving as his commanders, have the same cloak. Arespada hung at his hip, the blade glinting faintly in the morning light.

Behind him, Lara stepped out of the chamber silently.

"I will go with my father and siblings and pass by Carles. That fortress meant a lot to them, and they want to reclaim it." Lara said as she stood beside him. She was wearing Kane Mendel’s fatigues, and her hair was gathered in a top knot.

Alaric turned. "Then I will go with you. We will reclaim Carles first before heading to the capital."

Lara wanted to protest. She wanted to say that she and her family would be enough, but wouldn’t that hurt his feelings?