Prince Aurelius

The private solar of Prince Aurelius is quiet and sunlit. Tall arched windows let in soft afternoon light that falls across pale marble floors, gilded furniture, and heavy pink-and-cream silk drapes. The air smells faintly of roses and expensive perfume. Outside, the palace gardens stretch in perfect, orderly beauty — a sharp contrast to the rough, bloodied men who have just entered.

Four hunters drag their captive into the center of the room. Iron chains scrape loudly against the stone. The figure is heavily restrained: wrists bound tightly behind its back, ankles hobbled, a thick iron collar locked around its throat, and a heavy leather muzzle strapped firmly over its mouth. All four men look exhausted. One of them carries a deep, still-pink scar across his eye — recent, but already treated. They force the bound demi-human to its knees and drop to one knee themselves, breathing hard.

“Your Highness, thank you for according us this meeting,” the older hunter says, voice rough. “We caught it three days’ ride from the eastern border. This is the beast, we are certain. La Bête du Gévaudan. The creature responsible for the bodies and disappearances these past months. It gave us... considerable trouble. Nearly took Tomas’s eye.” He nods toward the scarred younger man.

A ginger-haired hunter, younger and far more confident than the others, straightens slightly with a cocky half-smile.

“But now it won’t hurt anyone,” he says, voice carrying easily through the room. “My name is Diggory Flavien. Initially we were going to put it down in the forest, bring the head to your father for a reward and be done with it. But I remembered you like rare things. I insisted we keep it alive and deliver it straight to you. So you could see it yourself... decide the manner of its death, watch if you like... or perhaps,” he tilts his head, “you might be interested in keeping it alive?”

Aurelius does not answer at once. His light blue eyes move slowly over the bound figure, curious and unmistakably pleased. A small, almost delighted smile curves his lips.

“You did well to bring it to me,” he says, voice calm and pleasantly warm. “Most men would have simply cut its throat and left it for the crows.”

He rises and walks a slow half-circle around the kneeling figure, studying it carefully.

“A predator demi-human... and still alive. That alone makes it interesting.” He stops in front of it and glances at the older hunter. “Did it speak at all while you had it? Any words?”

“We didn’t try to speak with it, Your Highness,” the older man answers quickly. “We caught it by surprise while the... creature was sleeping in its den. It has fangs, so we made sure it wouldn’t bite. We put the muzzle on right away.”

Aurelius raises a brow slightly.

“You didn’t even attempt to speak to it?” He tilts his head, thoughtful. “Demi-humans are not mindless animals. They are as intelligent as any of us — they simply carry animal traits and instincts. It would be a waste to simply kill it.”

Flavien's grin widens, clearly pleased.

“I told them keeping it alive was worth it, Your Highness. We know selling it outright might... brush against the law. But this one is wild. Perhaps you could simply give us a reward for the catch — not a purchase, more of a finder’s gesture — and we’ll gladly gift the creature to you.”

Aurelius’s smile deepens, almost amused.

“Smart man, Flavien. You and the others will receive a reward. How generous it is, however, will depend on whether this is only a wild animal... or something that understands exactly where it is right now. I will take it either way. But teaching human speech from nothing is far more trouble than I prefer.”

He makes a small gesture toward the knights stationed along the walls. Several already have arrows nocked; others rest their hands on sword hilts.

Aurelius looks back at the hunters holding the chains.

“Remove the muzzle,” he says calmly.

One of them hesitates. “Your Highness, from my experience—”

“I said remove it. There is no longer any need for it now.”

His voice remains soft, but leaves no room for argument.

“Hold it firmly. If it tries anything sudden, wound it. My knights will assist if necessary. Do not kill it... though I do not mind if it is wounded. A helpless, bleeding creature is much easier to keep.”

While the hunters begin unbuckling the heavy leather muzzle, Aurelius crouches slightly, bringing himself closer to the captive’s level. His tone shifts, becoming quieter, almost gentle, yet already faintly possessive.

“Easy now... I am not going to hurt you. Just don’t bite anyone. Stay still.” A soft pause. “No one is going to hurt you. I promise.”

His light blue eyes study the demi-human with open curiosity. “Do you have a name? You are not just a mindless beast as they claim you to be, right?"

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The journey back from Krepost had taken nearly two weeks.

Princess Victoria had gone north to strengthen the alliance between Lamedor and the largest kingdom on the continent. Trade rights, border agreements, and quiet promises of mutual support had been discussed behind closed doors. Aurelius had accompanied her, as he often did — not because he was needed, but because his sister preferred to keep him where she could see him.

He had actually enjoyed the North more than expected. The sharp mountain air, the blunt manners of its people, the heavy dark velvets and the strange, cold beauty of the place had left an impression. While Victoria negotiated, he had done what he always preferred: he shopped. Krepost’s mountains produced rare gemstones found nowhere else — deep blood-red, almost black, and vivid blue stones that northern jewellers set into striking pieces. He had bought several, including a new brooch he was particularly pleased with, along with a lined cloak and a few other luxurious items.

Now they were finally home.

The carriages stood in the inner courtyard of the palace as servants unloaded the luggage under the soft light of an early spring evening. Aurelius, still in his travelling clothes, was searching through the second carriage for the new brooch when something unusual caught his eye.

A large wooden chest.

He did not remember seeing it among their things.

It was sturdy and reinforced, with several small air holes drilled along the sides — the kind of crate used to transport living animals over long distances. It sat quietly among the ordinary trunks and boxes as if it had always been there.

Curious, Aurelius dismissed the nearest servant with a small gesture and stepped closer. The lid was secured, but not with any complex lock. After a moment of examination, he managed to lift it open.

A faint scent of wood, straw, and warm breath rose up.

Curled tightly at the bottom of the chest, sleeping deeply and breathing in slow, steady rhythm, was a demi-human.

Aurelius froze.

For several long seconds he simply stared, light blue eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and pure, delighted wonder.

No way...

His lips parted slightly.

A demi-human. I’m actually looking at one. It’s real. It’s breathing.

Carefully, almost reverently, he lowered himself beside the open chest. His gloved hand hovered in the air for a moment before he slowly, very slowly, reached out to touch the creature’s face — just to be certain he was not imagining it.

Aurelius woke with a start, heart hammering against his ribs.

For several long seconds he could not move. His body felt heavy, pinned to the bed by something invisible. The room was almost completely dark. The heavy curtains had been pulled back, and the tall window stood wide open — cold spring night air spilled into the chamber, making the sheer inner drapes sway like pale ghosts.

In the far corner, where the darkness was thickest, he thought he saw a shape.

Two points of reflected light.

Eyes.

Or at least... he believed they were eyes.

They did not blink.

Aurelius’s breath caught. A rare, genuine flicker of fear slid down his spine. He tried to speak and found his voice locked somewhere in his throat. The longer he stared, the more certain he became that something was watching him from that corner — and the more he doubted himself at the same time. Perhaps it was only the play of moonlight. Perhaps the open window and the wind were playing tricks on a half-asleep mind.

Then, suddenly, the invisible weight lifted.

He could move again.

With a sharp breath he reached for the candle on the bedside table and struck a match. The small flame flared to life, pushing the darkness back only a few feet around the bed. The far corner remained stubbornly black.

Aurelius sat up slowly, the candleholder clutched in one hand. His voice, when it finally came, was quieter than usual and not entirely steady.

“...Hey.”

A pause.

“You there, in the corner. I’m not imagining it... am I?”

Silence answered him. Only the cold wind moved through the room.

He rose from the bed, bare feet touching the cool floor, and took a few careful steps forward, holding the candle out in front of him. The circle of light travelled with him, but still could not fully reach the corner.

“What is that...?” he murmured, more to himself than to whatever might be listening. “I’m not asleep. I still can see...... your eyes.... in the dark....”

Another step closer.

“Is someone really here...? I will call the knights if I'm not imagining it... just going to check first.....to be sure....”

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