Chapter 8: How Much Do You Care About Your Hair?

Chapter 8 - 8: How Much Do You Care About Your Hair? "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she said through gritted teeth. "Just tell me where the four-stripe beastman is." "The only four-stripe beastman in this village?" The green-marked woman tilted her head mockingly. Another cackled. "That would be the Lion King." The moment those words left her mouth, the group exploded into laughter. Isabella's stomach dropped. Oh, hell no. "Wait, the Lion King?" she asked, brows furrowing. A woman with brown hair smirked. "Yeah, our great and mighty lord. You want to see him?" The way she said it made it painfully obvious they thought the idea was laughable. Isabella lifted her chin. "Yeah, so?" More laughter. Some of them wiped away fake tears. "You?" one said between snickers. "Looking like that?" "She'd be lucky if the guards don't throw her into a river to wash first," someone added. "I'm not that dirty!" Isabella snapped, but even she could feel the dried mud on her arms. "Oh, honey." The yellow-eyed woman smirked. "You are." Isabella took a deep breath, her patience hanging by a single, fragile thread. "Just tell me how to get there." Another dramatic pause. Then, the brown-haired one finally pointed toward the center of the village. "Follow the big path until you see the palace gates. But don't get your hopes up. You'd have better luck convincing a boulder to move than getting past the guards looking like... well, that." They snickered again, some openly eyeing her like she was a walking joke. Isabella smiled sweetly. "Wow, thanks for the directions, discount hyenas." Their laughter stopped. "What did you just—?" "Oh, no need to be mad," Isabella said, already walking away. "I mean, I'm sure some of you are... decently attractive. In poor lighting. From a distance. Maybe if I squint." The shock on their faces was priceless. As she strode off, head held high, she caught snippets of their furious whispers behind her. "Did she just call us hyenas?" "She's insane." "She won't even make it past the front gate." Isabella smirked. We'll see about that. Oh but the hyenas were actually right, because Isabella has been trying different methods to get in and all of them failed miserably. Now now, this was how her adventure went: Isabella marched toward the Massive stone archway like a woman on a mission. Because she was. This so-called Lion King had the four-stripe markings she needed, and she wasn't about to let a little thing like "not having permission" stop her. She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and strode forward with confidence— —and was immediately stopped by two very large, very muscular beastmen guards. One had a head of golden hair so wild and unkempt it looked like a bird had tried—and failed—to build a nest in it. The other had sleek, neatly trimmed hair that somehow made him look permanently annoyed, like he spent his entire life judging people's poor decisions. Both crossed their arms over their bare, sculpted chests, looking down at her like she was a filthy rat trying to sneak into the royal pantry. "Halt," the sleek haired- one grunted. "State your purpose." "I need to see the Lion King," Isabella said, keeping her voice firm. The golden-maned guard let out a huff that was suspiciously close to laughter. "And who are you?" "Isabella Devereaux." She planted her hands on her hips. "I have urgent business with him." The two guards exchanged a glance. "Isabella who?" "Never heard of her." "Probably another delusional female trying to throw herself at His Majesty." "She's not even clean." "I am clean!" Isabella protested. "Mostly!" The golden-haired guard smirked. "Sorry, little woman. No entry. Orders from above." Isabella narrowed her eyes. "And if I don't take no for an answer?" The sleek-haired guard cracked his knuckles. "Then we'll escort you out." Ok asking isn't good, so of course she had just made plan b on the spot. And now it was time to use it. BRIBERY ATTEMPT Isabella took a step back, reevaluating her approach. If force wouldn't work, maybe persuasion would. She squinted at the golden-haired guard. His hair was impressive but... chaotic. "Listen," she said, lowering her voice like they were about to discuss something very important. "How much do you care about your hair?" The guard blinked. "What?" "Your hair. It's a mess." The other guard snorted. "He spends hours on it." "Shut up," Golden hair muttered. "Well, clearly, he needs help," Isabella said smoothly. "And I happen to be an expert in grooming and beauty. I could revolutionize your hair game. Picture this: softer, shinier, glorious locks that even the Lion King himself would envy." Golden hair actually looked tempted for half a second before shaking his head, and he looked at who was giving the offer. He almost laughed. "Nice try, woman. But no." "Are you sure?" Isabella leaned in conspiratorially. "Because right now, it kinda looks like a haystack that lost a fight with a bird nest." His nostrils flared. "Get. Out." A second later, Isabella found herself unceremoniously kicked out of the entrance area, landing on her rear in the dirt. O-kay. Plan C it is.