The General's Daughter: The Mission

”How could that be?” Erina’s protest rang through the hall.

She shook her head repeatedly, disbelief etched across her face.

”Her Majesty is breathtaking. How could someone raised in the countryside possibly resemble the empress?”

She scoffed, her voice rising with indignation.

”Isn’t that an insult to the empress?”

Then, almost by accident, her gaze drifted toward Lara, who stood quietly beside the recently restored portrait of Empress Lara.

The words caught in Erina’s throat.

Now that someone had pointed it out, the resemblance was impossible to ignore. Standing side by side, the similarities were striking—the shape of their eyes, the graceful curve of their features, even the quiet dignity they carried. The likeness was so uncanny that, deep down, even Erina could no longer deny it.

Yet acknowledging it and accepting it were two different things.

”Amelia bears the empress’s features as well,” Lara said softly.

Every head turned toward Amelia.

After comparing the three women, the realization settled over the room. Lara was right. Amelia, too, shared the unmistakable visage of the late Empress Lara Kromwel.

...

A murmur rippled through the hall.

At first it was nothing more than hushed whispers exchanged between the group. Then those whispers grew louder, carrying disbelief, curiosity, and unease in equal measure.

”How is that possible...?”

”They look as though they share the same blood.”

Even those who had dismissed the comparison moments ago found themselves staring from one woman to the next, unable to refute what their own eyes revealed.

”There are so many people who looked alike in this world. It’s not as if it is something bizarre.” Ares could no longer hold back and spoke.

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.

Only Erina refused to yield.

”No.” She clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. ”Resemblance proves nothing.”

Her sharp gaze swept across the gathering as though daring anyone to contradict her.

”Ares is right. There are countless people in the empire. Similar features are bound to exist.”

She pointed accusingly toward Lara.

”You are twisting appearances to deceive everyone.”

Lara met her hostility without the slightest hint of agitation.

”I have no need to deceive anyone.”

Her calm voice carried effortlessly through the chamber and irritated Jasmine more.

”I merely stated what everyone can already see.”

Erina bit the inside of her cheek.

The more composed Lara remained, the more irrational Erina’s anger appeared.

The nobles from Zalmeria, who had initially nodded in agreement with Erina, now exchanged uncertain glances.

They had come expecting to witness history unfold. Instead, they had stumbled upon something that raised far more unsettling questions.

If Lara resembled the late empress...

And Amelia resembled her as well...

Then could Lara truly be descended from the Kromwels?

Ares had seen it as clearly as everyone else.

It was no fleeting resemblance, nor the sort of similarity that could be dismissed as coincidence.

The sight awakened memories Ares did not know he possessed.

Fleeting fragments drifted through his mind like scattered pieces of a forgotten dream—familiar faces, distant voices, and a promise swallowed by time.

Among them stood a woman whose features bore an uncanny resemblance to Larissa Reyes.

For a long moment, he remained motionless, his gaze fixed on her as though the answer to an unspoken question lay hidden within her face.

Then, almost instinctively, his eyes shifted to the twin thrones atop the dais.

An unfamiliar sense of nostalgia washed over him.

In those fragmented memories, he was seated upon one of those thrones.

Beside him sat the woman with Lara’s face.

Together, they had ruled Azuverda through an age of peace and prosperity.

At last, he tore himself away from the memory.

”It is merely a coincidence,” Ares declared, his voice carrying a finality that allowed no room for argument.

...

The throne room fell into an uneasy silence.

No one seemed willing to be the first to speak.

Amelia cleared her throat.

”Perhaps...” she began, her tone deceptively casual. ”We simply have common faces.”

The words hung in the air.

Crown Prince Yohannes slowly turned to look at her.

Anton Trillo did the same.

Both men wore identical expressions, as though Amelia had just uttered the most incomprehensible sentence they had ever heard.

Common?

If faces like theirs were truly common, the bachelors of Azuverda would be celebrating in the streets.

Beautiful women with such breathtaking features would be everywhere.

Finding a wife would no longer be a matter of luck—it would simply be a matter of choosing.

...

”Enough of this nonsense,” Persius interjected at last, his voice cutting cleanly through the murmurs. ”Return to the matter at hand, Amelia.”

”As you wish, Grandpa.”

Amelia offered a smile, before returning to her role as tour guide.

With calm confidence, she guided the group from one mural to the next, explaining the stories immortalized upon the walls.

Each masterpiece captured a defining Chapter of the Kromwel Dynasty—the founding of Azuverda, decisive victories that secured the empire’s borders, groundbreaking discoveries, prosperous eras of trade, and the reigns of rulers whose names had become legend.

Some of those, Anton had already seen in the Mausoleum, but the ones in the throne room are more vivid.

Every brushstroke preserved a fragment of history. Every gilded frame stood as a testament to centuries of achievement.

The deeper the tour progressed, the quieter the visitors became.

Crown Prince Yohannes found himself studying each painting with genuine admiration, while Princess Zinnia struggled to conceal her astonishment.

She had always taken pride in Zalmeria’s centuries-old heritage, believing few kingdoms could rival its cultural legacy.

But standing within the halls of Hevenfort, she realized just how vast the gulf between the two nations truly was.

Zalmeria possessed a proud history.

Azuverda possessed a civilization and a proud history.

Its legacy was not measured merely in years, but in generations of unparalleled accomplishments that had shaped the continent itself.

For the first time since arriving in Azuverda, Princess Zinnia understood why the empire had endured for over a millennium.

It was not sustained by military might alone.

It was built upon a legacy so profound that every corridor, every artifact, and every painting silently proclaimed the same undeniable truth:

The Kromwels had not merely ruled history.

They made it.