"The Seventh Prince…" Haros' expression darkened, his brows furrowing deeply as he took in the battered figure before him. "You were outside the dome when the explosions began?"
His voice was low, laced with a mixture of disbelief and something bordering on sympathy.
Months ago, Haros had overheard True Beginning Empire soldiers laughing amongst themselves. They were joking about a delusional prisoner—
a man who still clung to his former status as the Seventh Prince,
believing that his royal blood would grant him special privileges.
According to them, he had even requested medical treatment,
as if his name alone could command respect in a place
where status was worth less than dirt.
They had mocked him mercilessly, scoffing that even a defeated prince was no different from a disgraced soldier.
Haros hadn't thought much of it at the time. To him, it was just useless chatter, the kind soldiers indulged in to pass the time.
