The General's Daughter: The Mission

Randell turned slightly, the faint scrape of his cane against the marble floor echoing louder than it should have.

”Ares.”

The name alone was enough.

Ares straightened instinctively. ”Yes, Grandpa.”

A pause followed.

But this time, it lingered.

Heavier. Charged with something unspoken.

Randell’s gaze shifted, dark and intent, as if he were no longer looking at his grandson—but through him, beyond him, into something far older.

”We’re not just visiting Isla.”

The air seemed to tighten.

Even the light filtering through the windows felt dimmer.

His eyes hardened.

”We’re going to uncover the truth.”

Ares’ brows drew together slightly.

What truth? What does Grandpa mean?

Before he could ask—

”Grandpa, I’ll come along too.”

Asher pushed himself off the sofa, his usual lazy demeanor sharpened by curiosity. His grin tilted, but his eyes were focused now.

”I want to see what they’ve unearthed in the northern part of the island.”

Randell didn’t respond immediately.

Which, for him already meant permission.

But Asher wasn’t done.

”Oh and we should bring Lara. She knew a lot about ancient history.”

That—

That made Randell glance at him.

”Lara?”

Asher smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

”Lara... Larissa. Same person,” he said casually. ”Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

A brief pause.

Then, more deliberately—

”And don’t you find it interesting? The first empress of Azurverda...”

His grin widened slightly.

”...was named Lara.”

Silence followed.

Randell’s gaze flickered as he gestured dramatically.

”Hmmm,” he murmured. ”I read that in the report that was leaked to me.”

So he knew.

Asher’s eyes flicked toward Ares before returning to their grandfather, something more serious settling beneath his teasing tone.

”And Grandpa...” he added, quieter now, ”did you notice something else?”

Another pause. This time, intentional.

”We look like them.”

Randell’s fingers stilled.

Asher tilted his head toward Ares.

”Especially him.”

A beat.

”The figure carved on the emperor’s sarcophagus... the resemblance is too close to ignore.”

The room fell silent. Heavier than before.

Because this time—

The implication had shape.

Randell’s eyes flicked to Ares.

It was slow, assessing.

Measuring something far beyond appearance.

Amongst his grandchildren and nephews, Ares resembled him the most.

Then—

A faint scoff.

”Stop feeding me secondhand observations,” he said, voice low and dismissive—but not entirely unconvinced.

He turned away slightly.

”I will see it for myself.”

And somehow that sounded less like curiosity and more like a confirmation waiting to happen.

...

It was just past midday when they arrived at Isla. And the island was no longer the quiet, untouched land it once was.

It was alive, buzzing, restless.

Temporary structures had risen like a small city overnight—white tents, steel scaffolding, surveillance towers.

Uniformed guards stood at every checkpoint, their presence heavy and unyielding. Archaeologists moved with urgency, their voices low but constant, as if afraid to disturb whatever secrets lay buried beneath their feet.

This was no longer just an island.

It was a site of discovery...of something the world had not yet fully understood.

”Sis, you’re here!”

The voice cut through the noise.

Lara barely had time to turn before Logan was already striding toward her, his grin wide and unrestrained. Dust clung to his boots, his sleeves rolled up, looking every bit like someone who had been living and breathing the excavation.

He was in charge of security and it was too tight.

”Sister?”

Randell’s voice came, low and probing.

His sharp eyes shifted toward Logan.

Logan scratched the back of his head, still smiling. ”Ah... that.” He glanced at Lara briefly before straightening. ”We’ve taken Lara as our god-sister.”

There was something in his tone — pride and a kind of doting that only a brother could give.

Randell didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked closer. Really looked.

And for the first time, something flickered across his face.

Surprise. Because now that it was pointed out, the resemblance was there.

It was subtle but undeniable.

The shape of the eyes. The bone structure.

Even the way they held themselves.

”Well,” Randell murmured slowly, ”she could pass as your real sister.”

A pause.

”You share similarities.”

Logan’s grin widened. ”I know it and you’re absolutely right, Grandpa.”

”Let me escort you inside,” he added, already stepping aside to lead the way.

...

Lara had been inside the mausoleum before. More than once.

And today, she hesitated. Because she wasn’t there for the same reason.

Her gaze drifted toward the northern stretch of the island, where diggers continued their relentless work.

That area...

That was where the next discovery was unfolding.

”Sis, you can take the motorcycle if you want to head there,” Logan offered, pointing toward a row of rugged three-wheeled vehicles parked nearby.

”Thanks, Bro,” Lara replied, already half-tempted.

”Lara,” Asher cut in smoothly, stepping closer. ”Why don’t you come with us first?”

His lips curved into something between a smile and a challenge.

”Then later, we can all go together and check the excavation site there.”

A beat.

Then, teasing—

”Unless you’ve grown tired of spending time with the dead.”

Lara shot him a look.

”Who would love spending time there?” Logan asked.

Asher shrugged lightly. ”Exactly. It’s eerie down there.”

”Stop dawdling.”

Randell’s voice snapped through the exchange, sharp and impatient.

”If you’re coming, then come. If not, go elsewhere.”

There was no room for argument.

Only command.

And with that, he turned, walking toward the entrance of the mausoleum without another glance back, his left hand resting firmly on Ares’ arm for support, while holding onto his cane on the other.

His steps were slow but steady.

Drawn forward by something only he could feel.

...

At the last moment, Logan made a quick call, summoning one of the senior archaeologists assigned to guide visiting officials. With Ares, Asher, and Randell already surrounded by security, there was no real need for him to stay.

So instead, he chose differently. He turned back to Lara.

”I’ll take you to the northern site,” he said.

And just like that, they split.

...

The northern part of Isla had begun to earn a name.

Hevenfort.

A name pulled straight from a novel.

From whispers of the past.

According to Themis, the island, once called Calma, held something greater.

A palace...

The very one built by Emperor Alaric himself.

It was not inherited nor conquered, but raised from the ground up.

A symbol of power.

Of origin.

Of a legacy buried in a myth.