Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 188: Day Out with the Brothers

As dawn’s faint light began to creep over the horizon, the chill of early morning still lingered in the air. The Norse brothers, their breath visible in the crisp atmosphere, gathered with Abel and Barett at the entrance of an imposing house at the end of Narra Alley.

The atmosphere buzzed with a sense of anticipation, each figure standing resolute against the backdrop of a waking world. They were all carrying almost identical backpacks.

Lara was wearing blue jeans and a long-sleeved dark green shirt. Her usually casual topknot was replaced with intricate braids, woven close to her scalp and crowned with a simple black hat that cast a subtle shadow over her eyes. She looked like a figure from another time—modern and ancient all at once.

When Jethru learned about her plan, he tagged along for another purpose. He needed to unearth another of his hidden treasures to start constructing his martial arts school. His motivation was primarily to teach his grandchildren self-defense.

Prince Alaric, on the other hand, learned of the plan but was preoccupied with numerous matters, and he simply did not have the time. But once again, he sent Aramis to be Lara’s guard along with another gift: a beautiful bow and a quiver full of arrows with sharp metal tips.

From among the arrows, there were six bound together by a twine with wooden tips and a note that said,

"To replace the ones lost to the flames."

Lara’s eyes softened as she traced the fletching of one of the wooden-tipped arrows. A wistful smile curved her lips, recalling the night she first met the prince. He was seriously injured, and she used her arrows as makeshift torches to distract the wolves that were about to devour them.

Aramis caught the flicker of her smile and smirked with pride. "Looks like my boss finally got the gift right," he said smugly, vaulting into his saddle with practiced ease..

"Master, have you taken the route from the northwest?" Lara asked Jethru. From her travels through the mountain, it was the only route she had not tried. She hoped to come across precious herbs or plants if they took that route.

In modern times, the northwest was the most traversed part of Mount Ourea, only because it was the nearest starting point for mountaineers, and there was a camp set up there where mountaineers could rest for the night before starting the climb early the following morning.

Jethru shook his head. "The vines and undergrowth are thicker in that area, it would take longer to enter the plateau from that direction."

"Shouldn’t we delve deeper into that area?" Lara inquired, her eyes sparkling with curiosity like those of a gentle doe, though hers were a warm shade of brown. Jethru felt an undeniable pull at his heartstrings; he simply couldn’t refuse her request when she gazed at him with such innocence and determination.

"It’s the only trail I haven’t explored. Who knows what herbs might be hidden there?"

"Aren’t you worried you might place other people in danger?" Jethru mounted his horse as he threw back the question to her. "Remember, though they are trained, they are not used to the jungle of Ourea like we are."

"Hey, we are not a burden," Percival interjected. "We can definitely defend ourselves, Sis and Sir Jethru."

Lara’s gaze drifted to Abel and Barett, who were watching with eager eyes. Their father, Primo, had delivered them before sunrise, entrusting them to their care. He believed in toughening his sons—and he believed even more in the capabilities of the Norse brothers to protect them. He knew his nephews were highly trained and possessed a strong sense of survival instincts.

In the end, Lara relented. Her master was right. She did not want to gamble with a lot of her relatives coming along.

Before they departed, Lara made sure everyone was properly armed—bows slung across backs, quivers filled with arrows, knives strapped to thighs and belts, and swords hanging ready at their sides. The Lenard brothers had come well-equipped, their chainmail shirts adding an extra layer of defense against fangs and claws.

She also handed them sachets that contained mixture of herbs, barks, and petal that could ward off annoying bugs and even snakes.

Abel and Barett, however, did not know how to ride horses yet, and so Abel rode with Bener while Gideon took Barett with him, letting him hold the reins and giving him tips on how to control the horse.

Aramis cast a sideways glance at Lara, a playful glint in his eye. He wanted to challenge her to a race—he always did—but held back, aware of the others. Still, she caught the look.

"Wanna race?" she asked, smirking.

His grin stretched wide. "Why not?"

"Percival?" she added, tossing a glance over her shoulder. "In the mood for a little wager?"

"Sure." Percival and the other Norse brothers have a competitive spirit. They would never turn down challenges.

"Loser pays the winner... one silver ingot," Lara proposed, eyes twinkling. What was a challenge without a reward after all?

Gideon opened his mouth to join—only to glance down at Barett, who was still gripping the saddle tightly in front of him. He hesitated, visibly torn. Jethru noticed.

"Barett!" Jethru called out in his deep voice. "Come ride with me!"

All heads turned. Barett looked up, surprised.

Gideon’s expression softened in gratitude as the teenager slid down and joined the old master. With a nod, he spurred his horse forward, falling into formation with the others.

Jethru raised a makeshift flag—a red cloth from around his neck—and with a sharp motion, it dropped.

A cloud of dust burst into the air as hooves thundered against gravel. The racers surged forward, wind tugging at their hair and laughter trailing behind them like a song of a lark in the early morning.

"Who do you think will win?" Jethru asked as his horse eased into a steady pace beside Bener’s.

"Of course, my sister," Bener said confidently.

"You are so confident, why so?" Jethru asked curiously.

Bener chuckled. "Those two brats would throw the race just to make her smile."

Jethru shook his head. "But she wouldn’t want that. Not Lara. If she’s going to win, she’ll want it earned—not gifted on a silver platter."

Bener pulled the rein tightly, and the horse neighed.

"But don’t worry, it’s a good thing Aramis is here," he said with a grin. "Because if anyone’s going to push her to her limit... it’ll be him."