Captured by the Tyrant of the Desert - Chapter 4

December 12, 2022

“Ugh…”

The first thing Latifa saw as she opened her eyes was a soft, pale light.

“Oh, you’re awake now?”

“Where am I…?”

Startled by the sudden voice, she bolted upright, only to find herself facing a man who stepped closer and handed her a water pouch. Her vision, still blurry, gradually cleared, and she could finally see the man standing before her.

As soon as her gaze met his dark, piercing eyes, memories came flooding back.

‘That bandit! I’ve been captured!’

A quick glance around revealed she was inside a dimly lit tent, the faint glow of an exotic lamp casting shadows. Aside from the man, there was no one else nearby.

“Stay… stay back!” Latifa stammered, retreating as she noticed his attire—or lack thereof. He wore only a black robe, its loose front exposing a well-defined chest with deep, sun-tanned skin. Yet, the man seemed unfazed by her panic, maintaining a calm, almost indifferent expression.

“So you really do speak the desert tongue.”

“…!”

“It’s water. Drink.”

He dropped the water pouch in front of her with a casual motion. Latifa flinched, her entire body tensing.

“Don’t even think about running. You’re injured; moving will be difficult.”

At his words, Latifa glanced down at her ankle. It was wrapped in white cloth—a clear sign someone had tended to her wound. The realization left her momentarily stunned. If he was just a common bandit, why would he bother treating her?

“Why would you…?”

“Rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

With that, he spoke no more and stepped back into the shadows, disappearing from the soft light’s reach. It felt as if he was trying to reassure her that she was in no immediate danger.
Latifa stared at the water pouch, struggling to make sense of her situation. But her muddled mind refused to cooperate. From the darkness, she heard the faint sound of him drinking, the gulping echoing with a rough, primal resonance.

The sound made her own thirst flare up. It had been so long since she’d had the luxury of a cool drink. Her fear of the man lingered, but her survival instinct was stronger. Slowly, she reached for the water pouch.

“A-are you a bandit?” she asked hesitantly into the dark. His voice came back, smooth and almost amused.

“If I said I wasn’t, would you believe me?”

“No…”

His tone was arrogant, but he wasn’t wrong.

“Then there’s no point in explaining. You’ll know everything by morning. Nothing dangerous will happen tonight.”
Hearing his refined pronunciation, Latifa realized with a jolt that it was the type of speech used by high-ranking desert nobles.

‘If he speaks like that, he’s probably not a bandit…’

But who was he? A wealthy merchant from the desert? A noble traveler? What business would anyone have in the ruined Empire’s lands?

‘But whoever he is, he’s still a desert man.’

Sensing her hesitation, the man spoke again from the shadows.

“As a proud man of the desert, I have no intention of harming someone who speaks our language. Rest now.”

With that, he fell silent, the only sound left was his soft breathing.

‘Who is he?’

Latifa, wrestling with countless questions, cautiously opened the leather pouch. At first, she took a tentative sip, but the cool, clean water revived her senses, and soon she was drinking greedily, the sound echoing in the quiet space.

By the time she finished, the small light had extinguished completely, leaving only darkness and silence in the tent. Her wariness faded as exhaustion took over, and soon, her eyes fluttered shut.

Despite the confusion, the comfort of the unfamiliar tent wasn’t unwelcome. The sweet, subtle scent wafting through the air only deepened her sense of calm.

‘If only tomorrow never came…’

Half-asleep, she vaguely felt something being draped over her. But she was too worn out to react and slipped into a deep sleep.

The cheerful chirping of birds woke Latifa. She sat up abruptly.

“…!”

Morning light streamed into the tent, illuminating everything. She looked around, taking in the unexpectedly refined surroundings—a makeshift bed made of crates, a desk, and a few scattered scrolls. It was simple but carried an air of elegance.
Just yesterday, she’d been huddled around a fire with the other refugees. Now, she pinched her cheek to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Ouch… It’s real.”

Pushing aside the silken blanket, she breathed a sigh of relief seeing that the man from last night was gone.

‘He really didn’t harm me. But who is he?’

As she stepped off the bed, pain shot through her ankle, forcing her to sit back down.

“Ah! My leg…”

Just then, voices came from outside as two desert men entered the tent.

“When should we give the order to move?”

“Prepare to leave by midday.”

Pulling back the tent’s curtain was Hades, followed closely by his second-in-command, Manute.

Hades entered the tent, barely glancing at Latifa sitting awkwardly before turning to speak with Manute.

“We may be short on supplies, but we need to conserve and reach the Sort border. Once we meet the main force, we’ll replenish what we need. It’s part of the deal we made when trading their goods.”

“Understood, General.”

“General?!”

Latifa’s exclamation slipped out before she could stop herself, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Both Hades and Manute turned their attention to her. The title could only mean one thing.

Hades Caleb, the renowned general of the Grand Bazaar, feared as the unstoppable force that crushed the Empire, stood before her.
“A true Imperial who can speak the desert tongue,” Manute remarked with a touch of amazement.

“Do you think I’d waste time lying?” Hades replied, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“I thought it was just an excuse for bringing the woman along. Should I give you privacy?” Manute offered with a knowing smile.

“It’s none of your business. Now, go send these to the couriers.”

“Yes, General.”

Hades dismissed him with a nod, and Manute complied without protest. But Latifa’s mind spun, a mix of fear and disbelief weighing down on her.

‘The real Hades General?!’

She thought she’d narrowly escaped the bandits’ clutches, only to end up in the hands of the very man who destroyed her homeland. Misfortune seemed to follow her like a shadow.

‘Of all the soldiers to run from… it had to be him.’

Tears threatened to spill as she lamented her rotten luck.
“I’ll oversee the final preparations, and we’ll depart at noon,” Manute said, bowing and exiting the tent.

Hades turned toward Latifa, who was still frozen in shock. This time, she truly took in his features. The deep tan of his skin, the unruly black curls framing a face that was strikingly handsome, and the muscular build showing his prowess as a warrior. Yet, this was the man who had toppled the Empire and the royal family she once belonged to. If he discovered her true identity, she wouldn’t survive.

‘It’s fine. He doesn’t know I’m a princess. There’s no way he could.’

Despite her attempts to calm herself, her heart pounded wildly.

“So, even after realizing I’m not a bandit, you’re still trembling? Are you the same woman who clung to my arm and shouted the other day?”

He stepped closer and held out a ripe apple to her.
“Or are you planning to deceive me and escape again?”
His piercing gaze made her mind go blank.

“Is there no custom in the Empire to thank someone who saves your life?”

Those dark eyes, smoldering like embers, waited for her to respond. Realizing he would continue staring until she spoke, Latifa finally forced out a shaky response.

“Should I call the one who destroyed my Empire a savior?”

His expression faltered for a moment.

“You got me there,” he admitted, his tone dropping slightly.

“And if you hadn’t found us, we would have passed peacefully. We wouldn’t be scattered like this.”

Her fear couldn’t suppress the bitterness that spilled out. Hades raised an eyebrow, almost amused.

“Oh, I have a good reason for that. If I hadn’t intervened, you all would have been found and captured by the bandit remnants.”
‘You’re the one who turned the Empire into ashes!’

Latifa’s glare met his, full of silent fury, which only made Hades’s brow quirk with a wry twist.

“Those who fled are now with my men, safe and under protection. I plan to guide you all to a neutral third nation.”

The unexpected news made her eyes widen.

“All of them?”

“Yes, all. My men gathered everyone who scattered.”

Latifa’s disbelief turned to hope, her voice urgent. “Even the children? There were many children!”

“I was told they brought them all. No one would dare report falsehoods to me, so you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
Relief washed over her, and she muttered in Imperial, “Thank goodness… thank goodness.”

Hades’s eyes remained fixed on her as she took a shaky breath, touching her face.

“Not only did I treat your leg and share provisions, but I’m also extending kindness. Perhaps you’re still half-asleep and don’t realize who holds the power here,” he added with a hint of reprimand and a playful edge.

Her heart clenched as she realized she might have provoked him into retaliating against her or the other captives. Regret set in as she snapped her mouth shut.

“What’s this? You were so talkative, and now you’re silent? It was entertaining; say more,” Hades said with a mischievous chuckle.

She couldn’t understand his intentions. Why had he singled her out for special treatment? She was just one of many refugees. The only logical reason that surfaced was punishment for her defiance when she tried to distract him.

‘Is he planning to make an example of me for trying to deceive him?’

The thought made her blood run cold. Powerful leaders always punished those who dared to defy them, and Hades, known as the “Mad Hound,” was no exception.

Realizing this, her face turned ghostly pale. Memories of his terrifying reputation spread even to the Imperial Palace before she fled.

They call him the Mad Hound. He’s crossing the border now!

He’ll tear us apart! Run while you can!

They say he fights with teeth bared and frothing at the mouth!

‘Latifa, the Mad Hound might tear you apart,’ echoed in her mind, making her tremble even harder. She bit down on her lip, eyes cast to the floor, as though waiting for his smile to drop and the monster to show.

Hades, watching her shake and pale in silence, sighed and forced the apple into her hand.

“Here. Eat this. You curl up like this every time I say anything; one more word and you might faint.”

The warmth of his hand lingered on hers, making her heart pound even louder. His voice reached her ears one last time.

“We leave at noon. Your leg hasn’t healed, so you’ll ride with me. Rest here until then.”

He left the tent without another word. Alone once more, Latifa sat in stunned silence, trying to make sense of it all.

So, they weren’t bandits, and the refugees were safe.

And she was here, possibly facing punishment for deceiving him.
That part made sense. But what came next didn’t.

She was to ride with Hades?

“Ride with him… on the same horse? Why…?”

Confused and doubtful, Latifa wondered if she’d misheard. But when Hades himself lifted her into the saddle and the curious eyes of countless desert soldiers followed, she knew it hadn’t been a dream.