CHAPTER 2:UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

                        

"What do you think you're doing?!" a voice said calmly, yet coldly. It was the most captivating voice I had ever heard.

"Is he trying to defend me?" I wondered. I quickly shook the thought from my mind because I knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking.

"Pr... P... Prince Kael!" the guard stammered, trembling like a drenched rat Caught in a storm.

"So that's Prince Kael?" I thought.

"I believe I asked a question." Prince Kael asked again, his voice even colder than before.

"What are you doing with that hot iron?" His voice thundered through the room, making everyone freeze in fear.

   

                   Prince Kael's POV

I was walking through the hallway when I noticed a small crowd gathered around someone lying motionless on the floor.

The figure was so small and frail that, for a brief moment, I couldn't even tell whether it was a child or an adult. Curiosity led my steps toward the commotion.

As I drew closer, I spotted the Head Maid. I couldn't quite remember her name, but I recognized her face. In her hand was a red-hot branding iron, the kind reserved for punishing dangerous offenders in the dungeon.

 Branding irons were meant for criminals in the dungeon, not for a defenseless slave.

A slight frown creased my forehead.

"What is she doing with a branding iron?" I wondered.

Before I could make sense of the situation, she grabbed the fragile-looking girl by the arm and roughly hauled her to her feet. Without the slightest hesitation, she raised the glowing iron, intending to press it against the girl's skin.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked calmly, yet coldly. 

The entire hallway fell silent. The Head Maid froze, her face draining of color, while the guard holding the girl stiffened in fear.

"Pr... P... Prince Kael!" the guard stammered, trembling like a drenched rat caught in a storm.

"I believe I asked a question," I said, my voice dropping another degree. No one dared answer.

"What are you doing with that hot iron?" My voice echoed through the hallway, causing everyone present to lower their heads. Every corner of the hallway became became deadly silent.

The Head Maid finally found her voice. "Y-Your Highness... this slave disobeyed my orders. I was only trying to teach her a lesson."

My gaze shifted to the girl. Her clothes were stained with dirt and blood, her wrists were bruised from the ropes, and despite the obvious pain she was in, she remained silent. Not once did she beg, Not once did she cry.

That's Strange. Most slaves would have been sobbing by now, pleading for mercy. Yet she simply stood there, swaying slightly as though every ounce of strength had already been drained from her body. Something about her quiet resilience caught my attention, but I couldn't explain why. 

I turned to the maid, "What exactly did she do to prompt you into having the intention to brand her with such iron" I thundered.

"I... I..She... She stole from the kitchen." The head maid stammered.

"And what did she steal?" I asked, my voice calm, though no less intimidating.

The Head Maid swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming on her forehead., "A... a loaf of bread, Your Highness," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"A loaf of bread?" I repeated.

She nodded frantically. "She was caught having a bite from it."

My gaze drifted back to the girl. She stood unsteadily, her head lowered, as though she had already accepted whatever fate awaited her. There wasn't a trace of defiance in her expression, nor was there any attempt to defend herself, only exhaustion.

"You intended to brand her for stealing a loaf of bread?" I asked.

The Head Maid's lips parted, but no words came out. She lowered her head quivering with fear. I studied her reaction but couldn't help but scoff. 

"So she fears punishment enough to tremble before me, yet she found the courage to torture someone weaker than herself." I thought.

"Answer me." I thundered.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness," she finally managed. 

"She has been warned before. If the other slaves see her go unpunished, they may begin stealing as well."

A heavy silence settled over the hallway. I glanced at the branding iron. Its tip still glowed a dull red, radiating enough heat to scar flesh for life.

"A branding iron is reserved for dangerous criminals," I said steadily. "Not for a starving slave."

The Head Maid immediately fell to her knees, "Please forgive me, Your Highness! I only wanted to maintain order."

"Order?" I echoed. "There is a difference between maintaining order and indulging in cruelty."

No one dared move. Even the guards kept their eyes fixed on the floor. I stepped closer to the girl and she flinched almost imperceptibly, as though she expected me to strike her next. She shifted from the position she was, obviously afraid of my touch, like I'm some monster. Well, i won't deny that because we werewolves are monsters especially to humans.

I quietly studied her, bruises covered her arms. Fresh cuts crossed her back from whips. It was obvious, even to the blind that she has been subjected to constant abuse. Her face was pale, yet there was a quiet determination in her eyes that refused to break. It was... unusual, most people in her position would have begged for mercy long before now, but she simply endured.

"Did you steal the bread?" I asked.

For the first time since I arrived, she lifted her head and met my gaze. She looked terrified, yet a quiet determination still flickered in her dull eyes.

"What kind of person remains so calm while enduring such inhuman treatment?" I wondered.

"Yes, Your Highness," she answered softly. "I did."

Her voice held no fear, no excuses, and no attempt to justify herself—only the truth.How did I know? I'd always had a knack for reading people's eyes. It was one of the gifts my wolf had blessed me with.

Something about the look in her eyes unsettled me more than any lie ever could.

I leaned toward her, slow enough not to frighten her, yet close enough to study her expression. The bruises around her wrists were fresh, and dried blood clung to the corner of her lips. Up close, she looked even more fragile than she had from a distance.

"Why?" I asked quietly.

She blinked in surprise, as though she hadn't expected me to question her instead of condemning her.

"Why steal the bread?" I asked again.

A flicker of pain crossed her face before she lowered her gaze once more. "I... I was hungry, Your Highness." 

Her next words were barely above a whisper, "I hadn't eaten in three days."

The words hung heavily in the air, for a moment, no one spoke. Even the guards exchanged uneasy glances.

"Three days?!" I repeated, my voice dangerously quiet.

I slowly straightened, my jaw tightening.

I turned to the Head Maid, "Answer me. Has she truly gone three days without food?"

The Head Maid's legs gave out beneath her.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "She... she truly hasn't eaten in three days."

My jaw clenched."Three days?! 

 I repeated, my voice dangerously calm. "Tell me... can you survive three days without food?"

She lowered her head, unable to answer. Then again, what answer had I expected from someone capable of starving a helpless girl for three days... only to brand her for stealing a single loaf of bread.

Slowly, I turned my gaze to the trembling Head Maid, "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Her face drained of every trace of color. The entire hallway fell into a suffocating silence as everyone waited for my judgment.