Chapter 111: The Girl at the Mouth of the Volcano
**Thelma Zane’s POV:**
For the first time, I was directly exposed to the tension between a ruler and his subjects. My father, a commanding and authoritative king, had the ability to handle such situations with case. When confronted with rebellious individuals daring to challenge authority, he swiftly and decisively maintained order. Watching him couldn’t help but wonder how I might fare. in his position.
If I were the one dealing with these agitators, would I show the same composure? Or would my impulsiveness get the better of me? I imagined myself in such a scenario, my temper flaring as I berated the troublemakers before ordering the guards to expel them from the realm. But this hypothetical version of me seemed so naive and immature compared to my father’s measured approach.
He handled the situation without raising his voice, let alone spilling blood. It reminded me of his teachings: *“A monarch commands respect not only through their true self but also through the mask they present to the world. Subjects are often more influenced by appearances than substance.“*
Impulsiveness, he had taught me, was a weakness. An emotional outburst, no matter how justified, would be seen as a sign of incompetence. Opportunistic advisors and cunning dissenters would use it against you, undermining your authority either openly or covertly. To be a successful ruler, one must be enigmatic–guarded and unreadable. Only then would those seeking to challenge authority retreat, unable to decipher the ruler’s true intentions or vulnerabilities.
Once the troublemakers had been subdued, my father turned his attention to the witches who had been silently observing the spectacle. Their smug expressions betrayed their lack of fear, and one of them couldn’t resist a snide remark.
“Well, that was entertaining,” the witch said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Almost like watching a play. But not a classic like *Macbeth, mind you. More like a farcical comedy.‘
Before she could continue, one of the guards stepped forward and delivered a hard punch to her abdomen. The witch doubled over, coughing, but her pain quickly morphed into manic laughter.
“The royal family doesn’t even have an interrogation chamber?” she sneered. “Holding court and interrogations in the same hall? Truly barbaric! You wolves are nothing but hairy savages.”
My father’s calm voice cut through the tension. “There’s no need for theatrics,” he said, his tone steady and unyielding. “If we’d intended to torture you, you wouldn’t be here, and your certainly wouldn’t be talking. As you pointed out, such methods would be beneath us.
The erlat the Mouth of the Volcano
The witch’s mocking smile faltered. Clearly angered by my father’s comp e lashed
out. “You can drop the pretense of civility. I won’t tell you anything! What, did you think I came here out of some noble purpose? I just wanted a bit of fun, a glimpse into the luxurious, so–called noble life of your kind. Turns out, it’s not that impressive.”
The Southern Duke, Lord Benard, could no longer contain his fury. He stormed forward, grabbing the witch by her collar. His face was contorted with rage as he bellowed, “Where is Carolyn? Tell me where you’ve hidden my daughter!”
“Oh, you mean that pitiful little girl?” the witch retorted, her voice dripping with disdain. “Let me think… where did I leave her? Ah, yes. At the mouth of Hellfire Volcano.”
Her exaggerated grin revealed a chilling madness. Her eyes gleamed with twisted pleasure as she continued, “But don’t worry; I didn’t leave her entirely alone. There’s a scarecrow guarding her a shabby one at that, with rotten limbs barely holding together.
“Do you think the scarecrow will take care of her? Fetch her lava to drink? Offer her sulfur to eat? No, I imagine it’s more likely the wind blew it into the volcano’s depths.
steam
“Poor little thing. How frightened she must be, surrounded by nothing but boiling and. the jagged rocks. She won’t last three days without water. And if the heat doesn’t finish her, creatures will. Lizards, scorpions–they’ll tear her apart at sunrise. By the time you find her, if
you
find her, there will be nothing left but sun–bleached bones.”
The room fell silent as her words sank in. Then, with a roar of anguish and fury, Duke Benard, lashed out. His wolf claws extended, and he lunged at the witch with a ferocity born of desperation.
“You vile creature!” he shouted. “If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll make you regret every breath you’ve ever taken!”
The guards rushed to restrain him, but his strength was formidable. Even the pleas of the
he elders failed to calm him. Finally, it was Duke Walter who intervened. Seizing Benard’s arm, growled, “Get hold of yourself! If you kill her now, we may never find out where Carolyn is. The volcano is vast. We need specifics!”
Benard’s ragged breathing was loud in the silent hall, each exhale punctuated by barely contained sobs.
“Benard,” my father said firmly, his voice steady but not unkind: “We’ll act immediately. I’ll dispatch search parties to Hellfire Volcano at once. Meanwhile, we’ll investigate this witch’s origins. Once we know her coven, they will answer for this atrocity. You have my word.”
The Southern Duke slowly retracted his claws, his fury giving way to despair. With a final glare at the witch, he spat on the ground at her feet before turning to my father.
Though outwardly composed, I knew my father’s mind was already racing, calculating the best course of action. As I watched, I couldn’t help but admire his ability to remain calm in the
For furtat the Mu
the Volcann
face of such provocation. But I also felt a pang of sorrow for Duke Benard. His anguish was
palpable, and his love for his daughter was evident in every frantic movement and anguished.
cry.
The witch, however, seemed unfazed by the chaos she had unleashed. Her earlier defiance gave way to a hollow indifference, as if the events around her no longer mattered.
As the guards led her away, I couldn’t shake the image of the little girl, alone and terrified at the mouth of the volcano. The heat, the isolation, the looming threat of death–it was a nightmare no child should endure.
But amidst the fear, a resolve began to form within me. Carolyn would not be left to her fate. We would find her, no matter what it took. And those responsible for her suffering would face the full wrath of our justice..
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