The General's Daughter: The Mission

Amelia blinked.

”Then why are they here?”

Lara didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she walked toward the window overlooking the southern sector of the island where the Kromwel Mausoleum stood beneath the glaring sunlight.

From afar, the restored structure looked magnificent—ancient black stone pillars rising like silent guardians against the jagged cliffs, while enormous banners bearing the crest of House Kromwel billowed violently beneath the wind.

Sunlight struck the dark stone in sharp angles, giving the mausoleum an almost divine presence, as though an ancient kingdom had momentarily resurfaced from the grave.

Philip Hardy truly had a talent for spectacle.

Every detail had been carefully orchestrated to inspire awe—the towering braziers, the ceremonial pathways, even the positioning of the guards around the ruins. He didn’t merely restore history.

He turned it into theater.

Yet despite the beauty of it, a strange unease settled deep inside her chest.

Something felt wrong today.

The air itself felt heavier.

Too still.

As though the island itself was holding its breath.

Waiting.

Watching.

Watching for something that would come and desecrate the sacred silence of the dead.

A cold sensation crawled down Lara’s spine.

Then—

”Ladies, it’s time.”

A gentle, refined voice came from the doorway.

Both women turned.

A graceful woman in her middle age stepped inside, elegant despite the simplicity of her appearance. Time had touched her beauty lightly, leaving behind only sophistication and quiet authority.

Dr. Grace Varona.

One of the country’s most respected experts in ancient history and archaeology. The History Commission itself had sent her to oversee the cataloging and preservation of every artifact uncovered on Isla Calma.

Like Lara and Amelia, she wore clothing inspired by ancient Calman fashion, though hers came in darker royal hues that gave her an almost noble appearance.

”Remember,” Dr. Grace said as she approached them, ”today’s guests are not ordinary sponsors. Be careful with your words.”

Amelia immediately straightened herself.

Lara merely nodded.

Not long after, the three women stood waiting at the grand entrance of the mausoleum.

The massive stone doors loomed behind them, carved with faded symbols from a forgotten era.

Armed soldiers had already positioned themselves around the area while excavation staff lined the pathway leading toward the monument.

Then the convoy arrived.

Six military-grade jeeps rolled across the dirt road one after another, followed closely by Isla security escorts on motorcycles.

Among them was Liam.

Dust rose into the air as the vehicles came to a halt.

Doors opened almost simultaneously.

Security personnel descended first, followed by the distinguished guests and their entourage.

Lara’s eyes calmly swept across the approaching group—

Until her gaze abruptly froze.

Far among the crowd... her eyes locked onto the man walking at the center.

He had removed his coat and was now dressed only in a spotless white long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves slightly rolled to reveal strong forearms tanned by years beneath the sun.

Tall. Composed. Dangerously commanding.

Even from a distance, Lara could feel his eyes fixed directly on her.

A strange chill passed through her.

She held his gaze for several seconds, searching her memories—

Then recognition struck like lightning.

Her breathing nearly stopped.

She remembered him.

That face. That presence.

He was there twenty years ago.

The Major who led the operation that stormed the birthday celebration where General Fuegerro’s first wife and eldest son were slaughtered.

The same day, the the toddler Lara Norse was kidnapped and vanished like thin air.

Major Anton Trillo.

”That’s Anton Trillo,” Dr. Grace quietly said after noticing where Lara and Amelia were looking. ”The magnate... no, the trillionaire who controlled half the economy of Lanura.”

Amelia visibly stiffened.

Even now, Anton Trillo’s name carried terrifying weight across the country.

”Keep smiling,” Dr. Grace reminded softly, though she herself had already formed a warm professional smile for the arriving guests.

Lara forced her expression to remain calm.

But inwardly, old memories were clawing their way back to the surface.

Her gaze shifted slightly—

And met Artemio Fuegerro’s eyes.

The General had been walking beside Anton Trillo moments ago, but upon seeing Lara, his steps slowed almost imperceptibly.

Their gazes locked but only briefly.

Yet it was enough for Lara to notice the flicker of shock hidden beneath the old man’s hardened military composure.

Then Artemio turned away and resumed speaking to the man beside him while Anton Trillo continued staring at Lara with unsettling focus.

Lara slowly shifted her attention toward the second distinguished guest.

Governor Rogel Sanchez.

Amelia lowered her voice. ”I didn’t expect the Governor himself to come...”

But Lara barely heard her.

Her eyes narrowed coldly.

She remembered him too.

Back then, he had merely been a young navy officer involved in the failed mutiny that shook the nation two decades ago.

And now? Now he stood before the people as a respected governor.

A bitter sneer almost formed on Lara’s lips.

What an irony.

The very men who once plunged the country into chaos now walked beneath the sunlight draped in honor, wealth, and political influence.

Men who had commanded armed rebellions and stained an innocent children’s party with blood were now celebrated as patriots and visionaries.

And Anton Trillo...

Back then, he had only been a Major.

A ruthless one.

Fuegerro’s first wife died that day. So did his eldest son.

And amidst the chaos. Lara Norse disappeared. Kidnapped and never returned.

No one had ever publicly spoken about what truly happened.

The newspapers buried it beneath politics.

The military sealed the records.

The survivors remained silent.

Yet the people responsible had not only escaped punishment...

They rose higher.

Power had washed their sins clean.

Lara’s fingers unconsciously curled at her side.

If it had been her and Alaric back then—

They would have been hunted down like criminals. Executed without mercy for treason and the deaths of innocents.

The government would have hunted them across the country without rest. Their corpses would have been displayed as warnings to anyone daring to rebel against those in power.

There would have been no forgiveness. No redemption. No second chances.

That was the difference between the past and the present. Between Alaric’s reign and the curren society.

Justice was served decisively especially when the innocents were caught in the crossfire.

Her gaze slowly lifted toward Anton Trillo once more.

The man continued walking calmly beside Governor Rogel and General Fuegerro, his expression composed, almost indifferent.

Yet beneath that calm exterior, Lara sensed something dangerous. Something calculating.

His eyes briefly wandered toward the mausoleum behind her.

And for the first time since seeing him, Lara understood.

This visit was not about investment.