Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 371: They Are Finally Here

In the backyard, the younger women were organizing the children. Zeeta, Layka, and Laida had begun washing their dirty clothes and gently guiding little hands to help where they could. Children tugged baskets of laundry, fetched small pails of water, and chased chickens that had wandered ourside their pen.

Yohana clutched a ragdoll in one hand and trailed after her mother, asking endless questions.

"What will Father do when he gets here?"

"Can he sleep next to me?"

"Will he like the fountain at the entrance?"

Zeeta tried to answer them all, her heart tightening with every "when" instead of "if." But her smile never faltered, and her voice was always calm.

At one point, Lara found her kneeling near the vegetable beds, pulling weeds. She looked up as Lara approached.

"I need to keep busy," Zeeta said, wiping her hands on her skirt. "If I sit too long, I start to worry."

"You’re not alone in that," Lara replied. She knelt beside her, working in silence for a while. freeweɓnovel-cøm

By afternoon, Lara had ordered the courtyard to be cleaned and swept. Garlands were being woven from fresh flowers. Even if no one returned today, the house would feel ready. It was a symbol, she thought. A beacon.

The manor should look like a home—not a place of hiding, but a place of return.

Jethru arrived near dusk with Logan and his sister. They had spent the day helping reinforce the outer wall of one of the houses built at the edge of the Mendel estate.

He had expanded his martial arts school, and the Gabriella women who used to live in thatched houses built by Lara had long transferred to a more permanent unit at the back of Lara’s manor. Lara had gifted them with two-story row houses built from bricks and stone, with ample front and backyards.

"No sightings yet," he reported, wiping sweat from his brow. "But the air’s different tonight. I feel it."

Lara nodded. She felt it too.

That night, she ordered lanterns lit all along the road leading to the manor gates. Flames flickered like tiny sentinels in the growing dark.

Later, after the children were tucked in and the manor had quieted again, Lara stood in the great hall, alone.

She stared at the massive door for a long moment, her thoughts drifting to the forest, to her father and her brothers, to the question none of them dared ask out loud: What if they don’t come back?

A sound interrupted her thoughts—the shuffle of boots behind her.

Alaric had returned, his cloak dusted with travel and a guarded look in his eyes. "No word yet," he said. "But we are watching every road."

Lara nodded, swallowing the knot rising in her throat.

Then she looked at him.

"Can you stay here tonight?" She asked softly.

"As you wish, my lady," he teased.

Lara laughed softly and Alaric smiled.

...

It was just past midnight when the first horn blew—low and distant, carried by the wind from the north road. A watchman atop the eastern tower lit a red lantern, signaling movement outside the walls. Two pigeons were released, one heading to Alaric’s castle and the second one to Lara’s manor.

It landed directly on her window.

Lara shot upright in bed. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the halls. She didn’t wait for a maid or a message—she was already pulling on her cloak and lacing her boots before the second horn sounded.

By the time she reached the gates, half the manor was awake. Reya stood with a torch in hand, her face pale but alert. Freya was wrapped in a shawl, gripping the edge of the wooden railing with white knuckles. Arabella had come too, refusing to be left behind, though she leaned against a pillar, her breathing shallow.

In the hush before the arrival, only the rustling of the trees and the distant hoofbeats could be heard.

Then the figures emerged from the shadows of the road—tired, mud-streaked, armor dulled by travel. But alive. They were given horses and carriages by the guards at the eastern gate, who had anticipated their arrival as it would take them more than half a day to reach Lara’s manor on foot.

Odin rode at the front, flanked by Asael, Galahad and Bener. Behind them, more commanders and ex-prisoners appeared. Some were limping. One man had a bandage around his eye. But they moved with purpose—weathered, hardened, and fiercely intact.

"Open the gates!" Lara called, her voice sharp with command and emotion.

The great iron gates groaned as they swung wide, the torches throwing light across Odin’s face. His hair was tied back, his cloak torn at the hem, and his brow marked with a streak of dried blood—but his eyes were clear. Focused. And the moment he saw his daughter standing there, he exhaled, like a man surfacing after being underwater far too long.

Lara ran to him without hesitation. "Father!"

He dismounted quickly, ignoring the stiffness in his leg, and caught her in his arms. "You’re safe," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "Thank heaven."

He walked hurriedly to the woman beside Lara and was immediately pulled into Freya’s arms. She said nothing, but held him so tightly he could hardly breathe—not that he minded.

Arabella found Asael next, who rushed to her side the moment he saw her swollen belly. He dropped to his knees, cradling her stomach in both hands, overwhelmed by emotion.

"I’m fine," she said, her voice trembling with relief. "You’re here."

More reunions followed in a blur. Children clung to their fathers. Zeeta’s husband, Cobar appeared from the rear of the procession, limping but upright—and when Zeeta saw him, she let out a sound between a cry and a prayer, running to meet him with Yohana close behind.

Even the youngest children could sense the change—the shift from uncertainty to joy. They laughed and shouted names, their voices ringing like bells across the manor courtyard.

Inside, the manor became a flurry of motion. Blankets were fetched, wounds were tended, food warmed again. Lara had already given orders to prepare the guest wing for the returning soldiers. Jethru and Logan helped carry the injured. Nicolas, now already wearing the colors of Calma’s guard, took up position to help direct the movement of people.

Alaric stood in the shadows of the entrance hall, quietly watching the flood of humanity. He did not interrupt. He merely nodded when Odin approached him.

"You have my thanks," Odin said, gripping the younger man’s forearm. "You brought them home safe."

Later, when the fires in the great hall were roaring and hot stew filled every bowl, Odin sat with Lara beside him. His voice was lower now, weighted with exhaustion.

"They chased us deep into the jungle of Ourea. They lost some, and we have injuries. But we scattered well enough. When they gave up, we circled back."

"And the others?" Lara asked.

"Two groups. One heading south, one toward the mountains. They’ll arrive in time."

Lara nodded, a quiet relief washing over her. "Then we’ll be ready."

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