Chapter 4: The Pain Of Death
1040 Words
"Good morning, Prince Henry. I hope you slept well," the maid greeted warmly.
She curtsied gracefully, pinching the sides of her pleated skirt with elegance. Every movement exuded poise, reflecting her years of expertise and dedication as the head maid.
She appeared to be in her early twenties, her brown hair neatly arranged. Despite wearing no makeup, her flawless skin and sharp features radiated a natural charm, enhancing the mature beauty she effortlessly carried.
At first glance, she seemed no different from any other woman—except for the small horn protruding from her forehead. She was undeniably stunning, yet still bore a resemblance to humans.
At least, that’s what Henry thought—until his gaze drifted downward. He struggled to tear his eyes away from her magnificent, heavy breasts, barely concealed by the slightly open chest area of her uniform. Only after forcing himself to focus elsewhere did he take in her other extraordinary features.
She wore a custom-made maid outfit, a mix of black and white fabric adorned with decorative patches. The layered pleated mini skirt did little to hide her thick, meaty thighs, accentuating them further. Though the uniform itself wasn’t overly revealing, her mature s*x appeal was undeniable. The deep neckline exposed the upper curves of her ample chest, and her smooth, plump thighs peeked out from beneath her skirt, leading into knee-high white socks.
The woman before Henry wasn’t just any servant—her mother had once served King Darko, and she had personally taken care of the old Henry. In a way, she had been like a mother to him, and he had missed her presence.
"Prince Henry, your sleepy look is so adorable," she teased, tilting her head slightly. "I just wanted to check on you and see how you were feeling."
Henry, aside from a mild headache, felt fine. He simply responded with a smile—one that carried a natural charm.
Seeing her teasing fail to fluster him, the head maid pouted dramatically before whining like a spoiled child. Her playful act was a stark contrast to her mature appearance, yet it was undeniably endearing.
"Boo-yaa! You've become less cute these past few days," she huffed. "I miss your blushing, flustered expressions." She sighed in exaggerated disappointment before continuing, "Anyway, the king has requested your presence in the dining hall."
Henry’s smile faded slightly as he spoke inwardly.
'Hal, what should I do now?'
[...]
"Hal? Are you there?"
Silence.
"f**k! You betrayed me, Hal," Henry muttered, irritation flashing across his face.
The maid furrowed her brows in concern. "Are you sure you're feeling alright, my prince?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Henry replied, forcing a calm smile. "Lead the way to the dining hall."
---
Now dressed in royal attire, Henry followed the head maid through the vast corridors of the castle.
Along the way, maids of various races and backgrounds bowed respectfully as he passed, their movements synchronized with an air of deep-seated discipline.
King Darko’s grand castle was divided into four sections: Upper, Middle, Lower, and the exclusive Underground Chamber, which only the king himself could access.
Interestingly, the entire castle staff—guards, cooks, and maids—were all women. The differences between genders held little significance in this world. A delicate-looking woman could possess the strength to shatter boulders, while a rugged, muscular man might struggle to even dent one.
Feminists from Earth would kill to live in a world like this, Henry mused with a smirk.
Pushing aside thoughts of his old world, he halted before an enormous door adorned with lavish gold and silver etchings, depicting ancient symbols and stories of the past.
Taking a deep breath, he reached for the handle and pushed the door open.
The dining hall was vast, its ceiling painted with an intricate map of a star-filled sky. The stars shimmered faintly, the effect achieved through a complex spellwork crafted by the royal court witch years ago.
Henry’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the ornate decorations and the maids standing silently near the walls. His eyes finally landed on an older man seated at the head of the long wooden table—a white-bearded figure with an imposing presence.
As soon as Henry entered, the king gave a simple command.
"Alright, girls. You may leave."
"Understood," the maids responded in unison. With synchronized movements, they exited the room, their footsteps making not even the faintest sound.
Once they were gone, King Darko gestured toward the chair beside him. "Come, take a seat."
Henry offered a polite smile as he strode forward, taking his place at the table. The dishes laid out before him were beautifully presented but relatively light in portion.
"Father, you asked for me?" Henry inquired solemnly as he picked up one of the dishes.
The king studied him for a moment before speaking, his voice calm yet firm.
"Henry, you have failed me. You have brought shame to this kingdom—a kingdom known for producing powerful warriors."
Henry tensed slightly, unsure of how to respond.
"I'm not even certain you are my blood," King Darko added, his piercing gaze locking onto Henry’s.
Henry hesitated, but before he could say anything, the king dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore."
Then, without warning, King Darko continued, his tone sharper than before.
"You are weak, Henry. That is why your siblings and your mother died—trying to protect you on the battlefield."
Henry clenched his fists under the table.
"You lack skill in swordsmanship, magic, and governance. You are of no use to me. Therefore, to prevent you from further disgracing this kingdom, I have made my decision."
A heavy silence filled the air before the king spoke the words that sent a chill down Henry’s spine.
"At sunrise, you will be executed. You will be beheaded by the royal guards."
Henry's blood ran cold.
King Darko’s gaze remained unyielding. "I wish you were never my blood. Now, you will finally understand what death feels like."
With that, he rose from his seat and exited the hall without another word.
As the door closed behind him, four armored female warriors stepped forward, their cold eyes fixed on Henry.
- Writer
