Though the country’s food security was in a grim state, the king of Aropia’s table was an extravagant display, an "all-you-can-eat" tribute to opulence with delicacies from across Pangea.

Roasted dragon wings from the northern Great Alliance, boiled griffin from the theocratic lands of Asperya to the West, and an array of dishes unfathomably expensive lined the table. For the people of Aropia, mere survival was a struggle, but for their king, indulgence was unbridled.

“Hazel,” the king began as the last of the plates were served, his piercing gaze heavy on his daughter. “You said you needed time to think about the marriage. But circumstances no longer allow such luxuries. For Aropia’s sake, you must do what needs to be done.”

Hazel Cheryat shifted uncomfortably, her eyes focused on the fried lobster on her plate. “But Father, Prince Crimson is a… cruel man. I fear he may not treat me well.”

“Dear,” her mother intervened, trying to soften the king’s firm tone, “your father has thought deeply about this. His decisions, while difficult, are in everyone’s best interests.”

“But Mother,” Hazel’s voice wavered as she leaned toward her mother, her only possible ally, “what about my happiness? Can’t we find another way?”

The king’s hand tightened around his wine goblet, the soft clink loud in the quiet hall. “Enough. No other nation has offered what Drakonia has. They alone are willing to support us with their military might. It is decided.”

Hazel held her breath, fighting back tears, as the reality of her father’s words sunk in.

Aropia was hanging by a thread, weakened by a faltering economy, internal unrest, and ministers who increasingly distanced themselves from the royal family. Marrying the Drakonian prince, Crimson, would secure their support, but the cost was high.

Aropia would be giving up much of its sovereignty to a race who harbored little but disdain for humans. Drakonia, a country of Beast Folk, had long nurtured a deep-seated hatred for humankind and would only enact support policies that reflected the same .

“Yes, Father,” Hazel whispered finally, conceding not out of agreement but to avoid a scene.

“Good.” The king’s stern face softened slightly. “Put on a smile, my dear. The guests will soon arrive.”

Conversation shifted to old customs, a favorite topic of her parents, who would always remind Hazel how Aropia, a proud human nation, had kept itself isolated from the Dwarves of Zoalani and other “undesirable” races. This was a topic that Hazel hated , and just like always maintained her silence , keeping her opinions to herself.

At last, a herald announced the arrival of Drakonia’s crown prince, Crimson Buhari.

The royal family rose, greeting him with formal smiles. Prince Crimson was tall, muscular, and proud, his sharp features marred only by an arrogant gleam in his eye. His large, fluffy animal ears twitched with a sensitivity his expression lacked—a contrast that somehow added to his intimidating presence. Hazel’s stomach twisted each time he cast a smirk her way.

“If it pleases His Majesty,” Crimson said smoothly, his gaze lingering on Hazel as he took a seat by the table, “I would like to show the princess the gifts I’ve brought. They’ve been sent to her chambers already.”

Hazel’s brows shot up. “Gifts?”

“Only the finest jewels from Drakonia,” he said with a smirk.

Her mother nudged her gently. “Go, dear. It would be rude to decline.”

She looked to her father, reluctant. “Father?”

The king gave a nod, his gaze stern but approving. “Go on. But don’t be long. Our honoured guest should not be left without company.”

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With reluctance, Hazel excused herself, motioning for one of her maids to accompany her. She was not so happy with leaving behind an ongoing conversation for which she would be the subject of discussion.

On her way up the winding staircase, she passed Ogren Dhabiti, one of Aropia’s top military commanders. He was an imposing figure, rarely seen in the residential quarters, and his presence in the corridor struck her as odd.

“Good day, Princess,” Ogren greeted with a formal bow.

“Good day, Commander,” she replied, glancing at him curiously but too wary of the man to ask questions. Even brief interactions with the imposing Ogren required an inner strength she seldom mustered.

In her chambers, Hazel found three large bags overflowing with dazzling jewels, being meticulously arranged by her maids. She gasped at the splendor before her. Blue ascension pearls, gilded sparites—the rarest gems in Pangea, each piece worth more than the annual earnings of a small village.

“Oh, Princess, how wonderful these are!” one of the maids sighed, handling a golden sparite with awe.

Hazel felt a spark of wonder, almost tempted by the thought that perhaps Crimson wasn’t as cruel as she’d feared.

But the brief fantasy shattered when something cold and metallic whizzed through the air, embedding in the maid’s forehead with a sickening thunk. Another dart struck the other maid’s throat, silencing her instantly. Both dropped like stones, blood splattering across the floor as two masked men stepped into the room.

“You’ll be coming with us, human bitch,” one of the attackers snarled, reaching out a clawed hand for her.

Hazel’s heart froze, and the room spun as she realized the brutality of the ambush. Even the maid who’d followed her had been killed , stabbed right through the gut from behind.

Desperation took hold.

Hazel scrambled deeper into her chambers, heading for her hidden dagger that was magically enchanted to poison any living being it stabbed. But she barely made it a few steps before a harsh grip yanked her back by the hair, ripping a scream from her throat.

“Shut up!” her captor hissed, slapping her viciously.

Panic clawed at her as she tasted blood. Summoning every ounce of courage, she twisted in his grip and bit his hand hard, tasting fur and iron. He cursed, striking her again just as Ogren burst into the room, his face livid with fury.

“You would dare lay hands on Aropia’s princess!” he roared, his sword flashing as he lunged at the assailants.

One of the men brandished a pair of katanas, sneering. “Stand down, soldier. You could be rewarded if you do.”

Ogren’s gaze darkened. “You think I’d sell my honor?” He swung his blade with lethal precision, slicing the man’s chest open in a flash.

The other attacker, now wide-eyed, tightened his hold on Hazel.

“Please, help me!” Hazel cried, stumbling as she tried to pull free.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” Ogren growled, delivering a bone-crushing blow to her captor’s face, his mask clattering to the floor, revealing him to be human.

Ogren’s blade pressed against the man’s throat.

“Talk. Who hired you? How many of you are there?”

The man spat defiantly, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. “It won’t matter. By now, the king and queen are already dead.”

Ogren’s face hardened as he swiftly dispatched the man, his head falling limp. He turned to Hazel, whose hands shook uncontrollably as she clung to him.

“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice a frightened whisper.

“We leave. We go south. The region is largely remote and autonomous from the central government. Your father gave me this command ,princess.”

“No!” Hazel clutched his arm, her voice tight with despair. “We can’t leave my parents behind. They might still be alive!”

Ogren took a steadying breath, his gaze unyielding. “Princess, I have a feeling those assassins spoke the truth… your parents are already gone.”

Hazel’s heart seized, her breath catching as tears spilled over her cheeks. She shook her head, her voice trembling. “There are guards—loyal, well-trained—”

“Then ask yourself why they’re not here,” he replied softly, though his tone held an edge of iron.

“Now, go. Take whatever you can carry, change into commoner clothes, and do not close any doors behind you. You have ten minutes.”

Shaken and with fresh tears stinging her eyes, Hazel nodded, hastily gathering a few jewels and throwing on a simple gown. When she emerged, Ogren was waiting, his hand firmly gripping his sword as he cursed beneath his breath.

“Traitors. I’ll see every last one of them dead.”