The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 581: Seeking For Shelter

Isabella stopped right in front of them, Osiris standing half a step behind her like a silent guard.

Her gaze swept over the kneeling men slowly.

There were thirty of them. Maybe more. Their clothes were nothing but torn animal skins, stained dark with dirt and old blood. Their hair was tangled, faces hollow, eyes sunken deep into their sockets. Some were thin to the point where their ribs showed when they breathed. A few had bandages crudely wrapped around their arms and legs, already soaked through with brownish stains.

They did not look like invaders.

They looked like survivors.

Isabella’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Why are you kneeling?"

The man closest to her lifted his head. He was older, with rough features and graying hair tied loosely behind his neck. His hands shook as he pressed them into the dirt.

"Goddess," he said hoarsely, "we beg forgiveness for stepping into your territory without permission."

Isabella frowned. "That did not answer my question."

He swallowed. "Our tribe... no longer exists."

The surrounding beastmen stirred.

Osiris’s expression darkened.

The man continued, voice cracking. "Three nights ago, our land was attacked. Another tribe came with more warriors than we could fight. They burned our homes. They took our storage caves. They took our women."

A sharp breath was sucked in from the villagers behind Isabella.

"Those of us who survived fled," another man said, bowing his head deeply. "We have wandered since then. We heard rumors of a village ruled by a goddess. A place that grows food instead of stealing it. We thought... maybe..."

His voice broke completely.

Isabella closed her eyes briefly.

When she opened them again, they were calm. Sharp. Clear.

She turned her head slightly. "Is this common?"

The guard hesitated. "Yes, Goddess. Tribes clash over territory. When one loses, the victor takes the land, the resources... and the females."

Isabella’s fingers curled slowly.

"And what happens to the defeated males?" she asked.

The guard lowered his head. "If they are not killed, they flee. Or they are enslaved."

Isabella went quiet.

She looked back at the men kneeling before her.

Their eyes were fixed on her with desperate hope, like drowning beasts staring at the surface of the water.

As Isabella’s gaze swept across their exhausted faces, something tugged at the back of her mind.

There were too many men.

Only men.

Not a single female among them.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Where are your females?"

The older man stiffened, panic flickering across his face.

A few others exchanged nervous looks.

Finally one spoke, voice trembling.

"They are... outside the entrance, Goddess. Hiding."

"Hiding?" Isabella repeated.

"They were too frightened to come closer," another said quickly. "We told them to stay back until we knew if your village would kill us or accept us."

The guard huffed. "We do not kill innocent wanderers."

The men lowered their heads.

Isabella’s brows furrowed deeper. "Show me."

The older man swallowed. "If... if you allow it."

"I said show me," Isabella repeated.

The men scrambled to their feet and rushed toward the treeline just past the entrance. They parted the bushes, murmuring softly.

Moments later, several women stepped out.

They were thinner than the men—fragile almost.

Faces pale with exhaustion.

Some held tiny children.

Others clutched their swollen bellies, clearly pregnant.

A few were limping.

One was wrapped in furs as if burning with fever.

Isabella’s heart clenched before she could stop it.

Behind her, even the villagers went silent.

The women bowed weakly, their knees trembling under their own weight.

"Goddess..." one whispered.

"We beg you..."

"We cannot survive..."

"Please allow us to stay..."

Isabella understood in an instant.

The men would have survived on their own.

They were strong enough to hunt.

To travel.

To fight.

But these women?

Their bodies couldn’t endure the wilderness.

Not with winter coming.

Not after losing their homes.

Not with so many children.

This wasn’t thirty mouths to feed.

This was thirty men trying to save the lives of the women they loved.

She looked at them again—really looked.

The men stood behind their females now, hands hovering protectively over shoulders and backs, as if shielding them even from the air.

These weren’t invaders.

These were broken families.

Her jaw tightened.

Her decision solidified like stone.

She inhaled slowly.

Her first instinct was to refuse.

Her village was still growing. Food was precious. Winter was approaching. Taking in strangers was a risk.

She opened her mouth to speak...

Then stopped.

She turned away from them, taking a few steps as if to leave.

A soft sound came from behind her.

A quiet sob.

She paused.

Isabella turned back.

The men were still kneeling. Still bowing. Their foreheads pressed into the dirt now, shoulders trembling.

She looked at them again.

Not as a goddess.

Not as a leader.

But as someone who remembered what it meant to have nothing.

Her gaze drifted to the village walls. To the fields beyond. To the half-built structures, the unfinished paths, the fences that still needed reinforcing.

More hands.

More strength.

More protection.

Her lips curved slightly, not into a smile, but into something sharper.

She stepped forward.

"Stand up."

The men froze, stunned.

One of them dared to lift his head. "Goddess?"

"I said stand," Isabella repeated, voice firm.

Slowly, shakily, they rose to their feet.

Isabella looked them over one last time.

"Listen carefully," she said. "I do not give charity."

Their faces fell.

"But," she continued, "I value labor."

Hope flickered back into their eyes.

"If I allow you to stay in this village, you will work," Isabella said calmly. "You will build. You will farm. You will guard. You will follow the rules of this place."

The men nodded eagerly.

"You will receive food," she said. "Shelter. Protection. But only as long as you contribute."

One of them dropped back to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "We will do anything!"

Isabella raised a hand. "I am not finished."

They froze again.

"This village does not belong to you," she said. "You do not take what is not given. You do not harm my people. You do not bring trouble into my home."

Her gaze sharpened. "If you break these rules, you leave."

The men exchanged looks, then bowed deeply in unison.

"We swear it," they said.

The surrounding villagers stared, mouths open.

The guards looked completely stunned.

Isabella turned to them. "Assign them temporary housing near the outer caves. Give them food and water. Tomorrow, they begin work reinforcing the northern fence and expanding the storage pits."

"Yes, Goddess!" the guards said immediately, snapping into motion.

The refugees were ushered inside the village gates, some crying openly, others staring around in disbelief, as if afraid this was all a dream.

As the gates closed behind them, murmurs spread through the crowd.

"She really accepted them."

"That is over thirty more mouths."

"But also thirty more hands."

"She did not even hesitate."

Isabella ignored the whispers.

She turned away from the entrance and began walking back toward the inner paths.

Osiris followed her, quiet for once.

They walked in silence for a few moments.

Then he spoke.

"You really act like a queen," he said softly.

She did not stop walking. "Do not start."

"I mean it," he continued. "That was not kindness. That was authority."

She glanced at him sideways. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"A compliment," he said easily. "Now I understand why Kian looks at you the way he does."

She stopped abruptly.

Osiris nearly walked into her.

"Why are the four of you so shameless?" Isabella said, turning to face him. "Always spouting rubbish."

Osiris laughed. "Four?"

"Do not pretend you do not know," she snapped. "Cyrus, Kian, Zyran, and now you."

He tilted his head. "Am I included now?"

She rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."

Osiris smiled wider. "I like being included."

She turned and continued walking. "You are all a headache."

He followed, hands clasped behind his head. "A queen needs headaches. Otherwise, life would be boring."

She snorted despite herself.

Osiris noticed immediately.

"Did you just laugh?"

"I did not."

"You did."

"I absolutely did not."

He grinned. "You are lying again."

Isabella quickened her pace. "Keep talking and I will send you to clean the waste pit."

Osiris’s face drained of color. "On second thought... silence is indeed a virtue."

She smiled faintly as they disappeared down the stone path, the village buzzing behind them with new life, new hands, and the quiet beginnings of something much bigger than any of them realized.