Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 284: The Fight For Sandoz

"What is going on here?" Duke Connor Arces’s voice rang out across the training grounds as he strode forward, General Odin at his side. Behind them, Duchess Eloisa and Marchioness Freya followed at a more measured pace, skirts brushing against the cobblestones.

Jansen flinched at the sound of the Duke’s voice. His body ached as though he’d been trampled by a cavalry charge. Every muscle throbbed, and each breath felt like a punishment. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how he’d been bested so thoroughly by a girl who barely reached his chin.

The girl’s strikes had been swift and accurate, each one landing precisely where he would usually hit young Sandoz during training. But her power—gosh, her power—was far beyond anything he’d ever used. What he gave Sandoz was discipline. What she gave him was wrath, multiplied tenfold.

Before Jansen could muster the nerve to speak, a nearby knight—one who had earlier offered to train Sandoz—stepped forward and bowed.

"My lord, Lady Lara engaged Sir Jansen in a sparring match. I’ve never seen anyone handle a sword like she did—and she defeated him easily."

General Odin’s grin was wide, almost reaching to his ears. That was his daughter, after all.

Duke Connor, however, narrowed his eyes. "And why were they fighting?"

Lara’s voice was calm, cold, and cutting. "My lord, I simply wanted Sir Jansen to understand the pain Sandoz has been enduring. Who in their right mind uses a metal sword to train a growing child? His body is still developing. The bruises he carries could leave permanent damage."

Jansen, his pride wounded more than his body, protested with a grimace. "It’s not like that. Pain builds resilience. He needs to learn it early so he can adapt."

Lara’s eyes flashed. "You, a full-grown man, begged for the match to end after a few strikes. And yet you didn’t stop to think what that pain would feel like to a seven-year-old child?" Her voice cracked like a whip. "Did he ever complain? No. But he was hurting. Every single day."

Duchess Eloisa intervened with a sweetened tone, though her gaze was sharp. "My dear, aren’t you being a little disrespectful? Sir Jansen is, after all, the head knight of the Duke of Arches."

"Isn’t Sandoz the heir of the Duke Connor? Is his pride worth more than the well being of the the future duke?" Lara lifted Sandoz’s tunic. "Look at the bruises on his body. Aren’t you all afraid that he will become disabled due to the damage to his nerves and tissues?"

The training yard fell into stunned silence.

Then, a gasp escaped Freya. General Odin’s expression tightened. Duke Connor staggered back, his face draining of color before darkening with anger. A horrified look appeared on his face. He never imagined that his son could be this battered.

Sandoz’s torso was a canvas of dark, blotchy bruises. Some looked fresh; others were days old. The discoloration spread across his ribs, back, and stomach.

Connor’s face contorted in rage. "How dare you, Jansen. I trusted you with training him, not beating him into a pulp."

The head knight cast a fleeting glance at the duchess. But Lara’s sharp eyes had already caught the flicker of a glance between Jansen and Duchess Eloisa. She followed it, pinning Eloisa with a steady gaze. The duchess remained composed, her head lifted and her back straight.

"My lord, I am just training him in the same way I trained the squires. You said it yourself. I should not favor him. I should treat him like the rest. I didn’t know his skin was so delicate."

"Who else here trained under Sir Jansen before Sandoz?" Lara asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Her tone was not a request—it was a command.

General Odin and Freya exchanged glances with a mix of dread and awe. Two young squires hesitantly stepped forward.

"Lift your tunics!"

The order was delivered with such casual certainty that it left no room for objection. A ripple of gasps swept through the gathered knights and pages. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Just when they thought General Odin would chastise his daughter for her audacious request, he coughed, clearly trying to manage the awkwardness. "No need for modesty. My daughter served as a battlefield medic during the last war. She’s seen more naked men than all of you combined."

Shock rippled through the ranks. The squires exchanged a nervous look before obeying. Faint yellow bruises—nothing close to the severity of Sandoz’s—were revealed.

Wooden swords. Not metal. The difference was plain.

Connor’s fury boiled over. "JANSEN!" His roar echoed across the stone walls. The squires and the knights trembled. Birds scattered from the nearby trees. Even the wind seemed to still.

Janses went down on his knees. "I apologize, My lord. I was just overcome with zeal. I want the duke’s heir to toughen right away, I didn’t realize I was hurting him."

Connor Arces tried to control his breathing. Jansen was not the only one at fault. He trusted him so much that he failed to check his son’s well-being.

He turned to Lara and thanked her profusely.

"My lord, if you want to thank me, you could let Sandoz train with me on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at the Norse Manor. My brothers and I are training every day."

"What? Absolutely not!" Duchess Eloisa’s voice cut through the air like a drawn blade. She stepped forward, her eyes blazing. "You can’t seriously mean to hand over the training of the heir to a girl—no matter how skilled. This is not some village militia. He needs discipline, tradition, structure. Not this... spectacle."

Sandoz looked down. His small fists were clenched tightly.

Lara didn’t flinch. "What he needs," she said coolly, "is someone who won’t treat him like an enemy soldier. Someone who understands both anatomy and combat. Who will teach him to survive without breaking him in the process."

Eloisa’s lips tightened into a thin, disapproving line. "And what happens when the boy grows older, stronger? Will he still be taught by a mere woman?"

"Duchess, are you insulting my child?" Freya was angry, but she controlled her tone to appear civil. Besides, we all saw those bruises, Eloisa. You can’t deny what’s been done to that child. We might have found out too late if Lara hadn’t intervened."

But Eloisa stood her ground. "What message does this send to the other noble families? Is the heir of Duke Arces being coddled? That we abandoned knightly tradition for some bleeding-heart idealism?"

Duke Connor finally spoke, his voice grim but resolute. "What message does it send if we allow our son to be maimed in the name of pride?"