Chapter 87: Gather the warriors

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: Gather the warriors Kian, deep in discussion with the village elders, barely had time to react before a loud commotion erupted outside the throne room. "Let me in!" A woman’s voice—frantic, breathless—carried through the thick walls, shaking the already tense atmosphere. Even a deaf man would have heard the sheer desperation in her tone. Kian’s brows furrowed. He recognized that voice. "I have something to tell the king! It’s important!" Outside, Ophelia wrestled against the guards barring her way. Her arms ached from the struggle, but she wasn’t about to back down. Not when Isabella was in danger. She hadn’t even planned on coming back home. She was halfway to the palace, her mind set on morning tasks, when it hit her—she forgot to bring the basket. Oh no. Isabella had specifically asked for more spices and she had almost forgotten. Sighing, she had turned back, figuring she’d grab it quickly and still make it to the palace before the morning rush. But the moment she stepped closer to their home, her stomach dropped. A giant red snake. Right there. Its monstrous body coiled near the entrance, thick as a tree trunk, its head—no, its entire upper body—inside Isabella’s hut. Ophelia had frozen, heart pounding so hard she could barely breathe. She had heard stories. Beastmen. Dangerous. Ruthless. Unpredictable. But what truly terrified her wasn’t the snake itself. It was Isabella. Sleeping. Alone. What if he hurt her? Ate her? Took her?! Oh, no. No. She loved Isabella too much to let that happen. Plus, Isabella had promised her so many things—warm clothes, better food, a proper roof over their heads. Nothing could happen to her, or all those dreams would vanish. So she did the only thing she could—she ran. Straight to the palace. But now? Now she was stuck outside, wrestling with two very stubborn guards who refused to let her through. "Please, I beg you," Ophelia pleaded, clasping her hands together. "There is a monster in the village, and you’re standing here like... like unmoving trees before a storm!" "The king is in a meeting," one of them grunted. "I know, I know, but please! Even if he is... weaving the stars into a net, this is more urgent!" The guards remained as solid as boulders. Ophelia bit her lip. Maybe she should have looked for Shelia first. Shelia always knew what to do. But she had no time. Isabella was alone. And that thing was there. So she did the only thing left to do. She took a deep breath and, with all the strength in her small body, called out: "KING KIAN, PLEASE HELP! ISABELLA—SHE’S ABOUT TO BE EATEN!" The entire palace fell into stunned silence. "Let her in." Kian’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. The guards instantly obeyed, stepping aside without a word. Ophelia had been pulling so hard against them that the moment they let go—she tumbled forward. She landed with a soft oof, arms flailing, her round little frame bouncing slightly as she scrambled to right herself. Tears were already welling in her eyes, her face red from exertion, her breath ragged from the sprint. The men gathered in the throne room—all clad in nothing but animal hide skirts, their muscles taut from years of hunting—turned to look at her like she was some bizarre, flailing creature. One of them scoffed. "What is the meaning of this, woman?" Another crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Why do you enter the king’s hall like a frightened hare?" But Ophelia ignored them. She had bigger problems. Her watery eyes locked onto Kian, her tiny hands clutching her chest as she gasped for air. "The—the hut—" she panted. "There’s—inside—her room—big—" The men exchanged glances. Kian, perched on his stone throne, merely raised a brow. "Speak properly." "I—I can’t—" She waved her hands wildly, as if that would help get the words out. "I—I went back! For—for the basket! And—and then I saw—" Another man groaned. "Woman, if you don’t speak sense—" Ophelia stomped her foot. "I’M TRYING!" Silence. She sucked in a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks. Forget it. Straight to the point. She looked Kian dead in the eye and blurted, "A huge red snake is inside Isabella’s hut! It’s massive! Bigger than any beast I’ve ever seen! And—and its head was inside her room—" A hush fell over the room. For the first time, Kian’s expression shifted. Barely. His brows twitched, his cold Blue eyes darkening just a fraction. The men, previously indifferent, now stiffened. "A snake beastman?" one of them muttered. "It must be." "Impossible. They do not come here." "She wouldn’t survive that." Ophelia wailed. "That’s what I’M SAYING!" Kian stood. The movement was small, effortless—but in the throne room, it was everything. Because Kian rarely moved. And Kian never reacted. The air grew thick. The tension suffocating. Then, his voice, calm but lethal: "Gather the warriors." The room erupted. Men scrambled to their feet, grabbing weapons—wooden spears, sharpened bones, whatever they could find. Kian stepped down from his throne, towering over Ophelia as he passed. "If the beastman is still there," he said, voice dangerously quiet, "we kill it." BACK AT ISABELLA’S HUT Isabella sucked in a deep breath, one hand on her chest, the other held out as if she were about to belt out a high note. But then, she caught something in his eyes—something that made her pause. Concern. He wasn’t threatening her. He wasn’t lunging or baring his fangs. He just stood there, staring at her like... like he was waiting. Isabella blinked. Her panic faltered just a little. He wasn’t here to eat her, was he? She let her gaze roam over him—his long red hair, his striking pink eyes, the way his upper body was definitely human while the rest of him was very much still snake. A misunderstood fashion disaster, yes, but also... A lost one. She gasped again, dramatically pointing at him. "Who are you?" she demanded, squinting suspiciously. "And what do you want?" The man tilted his head. "Shelter." She faltered. "Huh?" "I need a place to stay," he said plainly. "A role in this village." His gaze pinned her down, unreadable. "Can you give me that?" ...Oh. Oh. This was new. Usually, it was beasts baring their fangs, demanding food or territory—not a massive, half-naked snake man calmly asking her for a place to stay. Her brain short-circuited. Wait wait wait, what was the protocol for this? Was she supposed to adopt him? Get him a job? Find him a nice rock to curl up under??