Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 310: The Parting

In the days that followed, Lara found herself consumed by work alongside Gideon and Matthias, laboring tirelessly on producing and selling the Iron Horse.

The clang of metal and the hiss of steam filled the workshops from dawn till nightfall. Though they hired additional workers, the complexity of the machine and the relentless pressure of deadlines meant they managed to release fewer than fifty units—far short of what they had hoped.

Eventually, Matthias, worn down by the limitations of their resources, was left with no choice but to seek an alliance with Prince Reuben’s camp as per Lara and Peredur’s advice. It was an uneasy partnership: Matthias contributed the technical genius and hard-won schematics, while Reuben provided what they so desperately lacked—the vast factory, skilled laborers, and raw materials to bring the Iron Horse to life at scale.

Prince Alaric was uncomfortable, but since it was mostly Gideon, Matthias, and Peredur who dealt with Prince Reuben’s camp, his discomfort vanished. For Lara, the arrangement was bittersweet. She did not want the crown prince to benefit from their inventions, but her capability and wealth were limited at the moment. She could not deny the satisfaction as the coffers grew heavier with each passing week.

Then, at last, the day came when Prince Alaric was to begin his exile to the south arrived.

Before dawn on the first Saturday of February, Alaric rode out of the capital. A handful of loyal guards who had stood by him since their time in Ourea flanked him in solemn formation. The streets were silent, cloaked in shadow; not a soul stirred as they made their way toward the southern gate escorted by the royal guards. The capital still slept, unaware—or perhaps indifferent—to the prince’s quiet departure.

Lara, dressed in a man’s riding coat and boots, had slipped unnoticed from the Norse manor, determined to accompany Alaric and his men as far as the gates. The chill of the morning bit through the fabric of her disguise, but she paid it no mind.

"Lara," said Agilus, his horse keeping pace beside Alaric’s. His voice was low, tinged with surprise. "I thought you would be returning with us to Calma."

"It’s not time yet," Lara replied, her tone steady though her heart felt sad. There were still too many loose threads, too many promises unfulfilled. What she had once thought would be a stay of mere weeks now threatened to stretch into months.

She glanced at the men riding with Alaric. She hadn’t interacted with them much when they were in the capital. They barely meet each other. Her gaze lingered on Aramais, who appeared stoic and even more desolate in the dim morning.

For a while, they rode on in heavy silence, the only sounds the soft clatter of hooves on the cobblestone and the faint whistle of the wind. At last, the great southern gate rose before them, a dark shape against the faint blush of dawn on the horizon.

At last, she spoke, the words trembling on her lips. "Are you truly going to see this through? To the south... to exile?"

Alaric did not look at her, his eyes fixed on the looming twin sentry towers that flanked the gate. "Hmmm," he murmured, a sound of quiet resolve.

Lara felt a pang, sharp and sudden. "I will miss you," she said, the words barely more than a whisper. Her heart ached with the weight of them, and she hated how small her voice sounded in the vastness of the morning.

Alaric’s fingers tightened on the reins, his horse tossing its head in mild protest. He exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. Then, at last, he turned toward her. The dawn was breaking now, and in the pale light, he could see her face—pale with worry, eyes dark with sorrow.

"I will miss you, too," he said, his voice quiet, his words carrying more than he dared show.

For a moment, it felt as if time itself stilled, the world holding its breath with them.

The gate creaked open, its iron jaws parting to release the prince to his uncertain future. As Lara watched him pass through, she felt the cold seep deeper into her bones—not from the cold morning air, but from the hollow his absence would leave behind.

Lara did not know when their relationship reached another level. He suddenly acted like she was his fiancée. Was it when she learned that she was, in fact, betrothed to him? Or the time he gave her a bracelet?

She sighed.

Lara returned to the Norse manor at dawn, weary to the bone, her mind racing. She stood at the window of her chamber, staring out at the awakening capital. Smoke began to curl from chimneys. Merchants rolled open their stalls. But the ordinary rhythm of the day could not mask the shift in the capital’s heart. Alaric’s exile had left a vacuum, and already the vultures circled.

Late in the morning, the Norse family received an unexpected guest. Lara summoned Matthias to her study. His face was pale, lined with worry, and the scattered maps and letters on his desk spoke of a man grappling with forces beyond his control. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"We are no longer merely engineers, Lara," he said quietly, eyes dark with fatigue. "We have become pieces in a game we do not yet fully see."

Lara crossed her arms, her voice steady despite the chill running down her spine. "Reuben’s influence grows by the day. With Alaric out of the way, the court will bend more easily to his will. And we’ve handed him the means to arm his ambitions."

Matthias grimaced. "We had no choice. Without his factories, the Iron Horse would have remained a curiosity, not a force. But now—now he controls production. And the gold he pours into our hands is the very chain that binds us to him."

Lara glanced at the sealed letter resting atop the pile on the desk. The wax bore Reuben’s sigil—the coiled serpent. "What does he want this time?"

Matthias hesitated before breaking the seal. He read in silence, his expression hardening with each line. When he finally looked up, his voice was grim.

"He demands full rights to the next design—the armored variant. And he offers triple the gold. Enough to finance our work for years... but at what cost?" His gaze met Lara’s. "If we give him this, there will be no turning back."

The study seemed to darken, the weight of the decision pressing down upon them. Outside, a bell tolled from the citadel, calling the lords to council. Lara felt the sound echo in her bones—a summons, a warning.