While the empire was in the grips of turmoil life unfolded in a faraway local village of Thalassia. The villagers were poverty driven and lived in fear due to the village lord and his family, the lord himself, driven by insatiable greed, exploited the hardworking villagers to amass wealth for his own indulgences. His oppressive taxes and ruthless exploitation left the villagers impoverished, while the lord reveled in opulence.
Lord Malachi's son, Adrian, embodied the excesses of his father. A notorious womanizer, he wandered through the village, leaving a trail of broken hearts and scandal. His actions only added to the misery of the villagers, as their daughters were often the victims of his relentless pursuits. Despite the discontent among the villagers, Lord Malachi paid no heed to his son's behavior, prioritizing the preservation of the family name and legacy.
On the other hand, Lord Malachi's daughter, Isabella, drowned in a world of luxury within the confines of the lord's manor. Oblivious to the villagers' suffering, she indulged in extravagant pleasures, surrounded by servants catering to her every whim. The stark contrast between Isabella's life of luxury and the hardships faced by the villagers heightened the tension in Verdant Hollow.
Even in the distant village of Verdant Hollow, the rumors of the missing daughter spread like a wild fire, as the news of the missing daughter reached the ears of the villagers, it ignited a spark of hope and curiosity. People started anticipating that if the child is found from their village then they might come out of their miseries, so was the lord's mouth watered with greed. But unfortunately, even after months of searching throughout the empire, Duke Sable couldn't find any trail of his beloved daughter.
"Hey, did you hear the rumors? They are saying that whoever will find the Ducal Princess, they will receive 10,000 gold coins as rewards." One of the maid exclaimed while sitting on a rock, relaxing her tired feet. "If I get that much money, I will leave this doomed place." She says in a mocking manner.
"Um, Charlotte, it's not advisable to speak in such a manner. What if the lord hears you?" a weak voice protested, gaining the attention of the group of maids. The speaker was a small boy, around 12, with a malnourished and dirty appearance. His brown and rough hair fell over his lifeless eyes, and his hands were filled with calluses. He wore ragged clothes, his skin was tainted, and his emaciated body was covered in bruises.
"Ah, stable boy", she stands up then walked up to him then slapped his face hard. "Should I remind you, that you are just a slave?" she raised her brow then loses interest. "Agh, this ruined my mood, lets get back to work before the head maid catches us."
"Hey, Charlotte, how will we identify that runaway princess?" One of the maid asked out of curiosity. "I have heard that she has write hair like the snowy dukedom and eyes red like the devil, it should be easy to spot her, who knows, maybe she is in some brothels selling her body to earn money?" then with a sinister smirk, Charlotte turned her attention to the stable boy and said, "You there, urchin, go scour the town and find that wretched princess. If you bring her back, you might have a few extra scraps of food. But if you dare come back empty-handed, I'll ensure your nights in the stables turn colder than the princess's snowy hair. Now, off with you, and don't you dare disappoint me!" Charlotte's laughter echoed through the courtyard as the stable boy reluctantly nodded and hurriedly began his daunting task. Aware of Charlotte's cruel intentions, the stable boy wandered through the town with a heavy heart. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't find any trace of the runaway princess. As he moved from one corner to another, the townsfolk eyed him suspiciously, making his quest even more challenging.
Returning late in the evening with empty hands, the exhausted, stable boy felt the weight of fatigue and thirst. As he approached the stable, he overheard hushed voices. The butler stood before the stable, tapping his feet impatiently, while Charlotte and the other maids stood behind him, their smirks revealing mischief.
Aware of his grim fate, the stable boy hesitated, his trembling body betraying his fear. The butler fixed him with a stern glare, his grip tightening on the leather whip. In a cold voice, he demanded, "Where were you?" The ominous question hung in the air, setting the stage for the impending confrontation.
"I…I…" The boy stammered, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggled to muster the courage to speak.
"Enough!" The butler roared, his anger palpable. "Lord was merciful enough to bring you from the slave market and give you basic necessities, yet you are going around causing trouble!" With those words, the butler's fury manifested in the sharp crack of the leather whip against the poor boy's back.
Having a frail build, the child crumpled to the ground, wincing in pain. His eyes shot daggers at Charlotte and her accomplices, but the strength to retaliate was beyond his reach. The whips continued their merciless descent, and soon, blood seeped from the open wounds. The boy lay there, enduring the agony, his pleas for mercy drowned out by the cruelty unfolding before him.
The relentless assault persisted – 10 lashes, 20 lashes, 50 lashes. The cruelty showed no mercy until the poor boy lay there, battered and half-dead. His limp body was callously dragged and tossed into the cold confines of the stable, left at the mercy of an uncertain fate.
As the boy lay there, his breaths labored and his consciousness slipping away, the butler's heartless orders echoed in the air. "Don't give him meals for the next four days; let him understand his place. Keep the stable locked from outside; feed him to the dogs if he dies." With those chilling words, the stable door creaked shut, leaving the wounded child alone in the darkness.
Bleeding and dizzy, the boy lay amidst the dirt, his prayers for mercy lingering in the air. Each breath became a struggle as he began to lose consciousness. The mixture of blood and dirt painted a gruesome scene. He clung to a flicker of hope, yearning for a miracle to end the years of torment and cruelty he had endured.
To be continued….