The Devil's Betrothed

Arlan saw his sister among the audience and walked towards her.

"Good to see you are still alive," she said while eyeing him from head to toe.

Arlan simply shrugged. His response sounded curt. "Let's head back."

Rafal handed him the shirt he took off earlier, and after wearing it, their group headed back to the main mansion of the estate.

The uncomfortable silence made Alvera inwardly sigh.

"Again, the nightmares?" she asked.

Arlan merely nodded but said nothing more.

Alvera knew responding to her was a big deal at this moment and didn't ask him more questions.

"A hot bath will make you feel better and get rid of your tiredness. I told the servants to prepare everything you like for this morning meal and had your food sent to your room."

Arlan looked at his sister but before he could say a word, she said, "I know you don't feel like eating, but you have to. For my sake."

The prince merely gave her a hollow smile. They then parted ways upon returning to the mansion.

Upon returning to his room, Arlan ordered all the servants to leave. He even dismissed the ones waiting outside along with his knights.

While lying within the pool of hot water, Arlan tried to empty his mind, but it kept drifting to the scenes of his nightmare once more. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something which would divert his mind—work.

The work of a Crown Prince was tedious but rewarding. It concerned supporting the decisions of the King, as well as protecting the royal family from the hungry eyes of the nobles in sheep's clothing. His schedule would either be packed with social gatherings, public events, expeditions, court meetings and paperwork, along with the endless reports sent by his network of spies.

As he tried to think about his plans for the day, the image of someone appeared in his mind. His dinner date…or rather, his drinking buddy for tonight

The owner of that mischievous pair of hazel eyes, the woman who spilled his royal blood not once but twice.

Each and every expression of that pretty face, from frowning in displeasure to smiling in joy appeared in his mind. The memories of their first meeting in the forest up to their market tour flashed before him. He did not even realize that the corner of his lips had lifted.

'I wonder what that shortie is up to. Will she show up tonight to get her knife back? She seems the kind of person who would not go after useless things but would chase the things dear to her. I believe that knife has sentimental value to her.'

After he finished changing into a fresh set of clothes, the butler, John, came knocking with the food his sister sent him. The butler quietly stood on one side, as if to declare he would report to the Duchess if Arlan refused to eat.

Though not willing, Arlan ate the food for the sake of it, for the sake of his sister so she would not worry for him.

His knights came as soon as the empty dishes were taken away. "Good morning again, Your Highness," Rafal greeted him while Imbert did not say anything.

Arlan simply stepped out of the chamber and his two knights followed his lead.

"Did that rat say anything useful?"

Arlan was referring to the spy they caught at the salt merchant Albert's shop.

"Duke Wimark's men made sure he received the best hospitality the estate has to offer, but he seems to be a tough nut. His body showed signs of drug abuse so it appears his memory is not to be trusted."

"Hmm," was all Arlan said and they went towards the prison where that man was kept.

In the underground torture chamber of the prison, there was a line of men hanging off iron shackles from the walls, all of them looking to be in terrible conditions due to the physical torture they had gone through.

Arlan stood outside their cells and glanced at them one by one, his cold emotionless gaze sweeping past their gaunt faces. One of them was the servant of the salt merchant.

Aside from the servant of the salt merchant, Albert, all the men imprisoned within were spies captured within the estate, planted by enemies of the Wimarks.

"These rats, no one wants to talk?" Arlan said, his nonchalant voice reaching every ear within earshot. Some of them shivered. The prisoners inside could hear from that voice his utter disregard of human life…as if…as if the man standing in front of them would not even blink an eye to have them killed.

"Yes, Your Highness," the man in charge of torture replied.

Arlan walked along the row of cells, the sound of his boots ominously echoing within the narrow walls of the underground prison.

"Rats but so bad at being one," Arlan commented. "Dirty hateful creatures. We should let them reunite with these animals they so adore."

"Yes, Your Highness," Imbert said and gestured at Rafal. The younger knight went out for a couple of minutes before returning to Arlan's side.

Even before the two huge cages were brought inside the prison, the nerve-wracking noise of hundreds of rodents already made some of the shackled prisoners scream in fear. Others pissed in their pants, while a handful had passed out. The sounds the rats were creating together was a living nightmare.

"These fiends have been starving for two days now, Your Highness," Rafal timely informed.

"Begin," Arlan simply said as he walked towards a nearby chair and leisurely sat on it.

There was no need for Arlan to give out detailed instructions as his knights knew what they should do.

Rafal pointed towards one prisoner and ordered the two prison guards nearest him, "Bring him out."

The prisoner crawled away as far as he could within the limits of the iron shackle on his limbs.

"No, no! Get a-away! Get away from me—"

The guards acted deaf and dragged him out of the cell. Under everyone's watch, without a single warning or chance given to the man, he was thrown inside the cage full of hungry rats.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The entire underground prison was filled by the dying screams of the pitiful man, which eventually turned into sobs, and then whimpers, until disappearing after what felt like an eternity.

The man had died, but sounds of rats munching on the dead body pervaded the prison.

Without batting an eyelid, Rafal signaled towards the guards. "Next."

As if knowing it was their turn, the rats inside the second cage started to riot in impatience, triggered by the scent of fresh blood from the first cage.

The guards knew who the next target was. They entered the cell of the salt merchant's servant. His dirty face morphed into the most horrid expression the moment the guards loomed over to grab him.

"N-No, wait, you cannot do this with me!" he spoke as if the fear of such nightmarish death flushed all the drugs out of his system. "No, please—"

Amidst his futile struggles, the guards easily dragged his battered body out of the cell.

"Ah—stop! No! I will tell everything I know! Don't feed me to the rats! I will tell you! Please! No!"

The guards didn't stop dragging him as there was no reaction from Arlan, as if he was not interested in what the man was saying.

The man hurried to say spill what he thought the Crown Prince wanted just as one of the guards held onto the latch of the cage.

"Next week! Next week a shipment will arrive at the ports of Selve City. It contains smuggled banned herbs! The ship belongs to Master Albert. Those who paid me also bribed the second mate of the ship. Master doesn't know his ship is also being used to smuggle those herbs. I was bribed to prevent Master Albert so he does not discover our secret dealings with those people. I was instructed to do it, but I don't know anything else."

However, Arlan still did not react. The spy grew more frantic as he was brought nearer to the cage.

"It's Merchant Fionn! He is the one who bribed me to smuggle the herbs! I don't know where it's headed or why Fionn, that vermin, wants those herbs! That's really all I know! Please spare my life!"

Arlan remained quiet, not even glancing at the man.

"—let me go. Please, Your Highness!!!"

Arlan stood up to leave, deaf to the man's begging.

The sound of the cage door opening was followed by the man being thrown into the starving crimson-eyed fiends. His blood-curdling screams reverberated within the entire underground chamber, leaving the surviving prisoners frightened out of their wits.

The Crown Prince of Griven was a busy man. Since that rat made him come to get work done himself, then the value of his life was the cost for wasting the prince's precious time.