Chapter Text
Despite the clear sky and decent temperature, the wind is particularly cold that day, cutting and leaving everything it touches half asleep.
The horizon is abandoning behind the last strokes of light, really letting the night brush over them with ice covered fingers. It's the transition of seasons for his nation, a moment you are able to bear the outside chill with a few extra layers, and therefore, it won't kill their guests on the way here.
There was no set hour they had to arrive really, just a time frame. Whilst on the way it won't pose harm, this close to the top of the mountains, the night's frost of the transition of seasons would still not kill you immediately, yet it was as good as a paralysing poison if you are not used to it. If they took longer than the proposed time to arrive, the castle would have to send a search party to aid them.
Minho is not very eager to do that, even though it would be the right thing.
Even if it was not really completely credible information, it is rumoured that the special guests would not take uncalled help with welcoming arms, but instead with indignation. With their countries' history biting at their heels, it would not be surprising if that was the case.
His thoughts are disturbed by the sound of skin being hit and a yelp.
"What was that for you damn weasel?"
"You're not doing it correctly!"
"And what about it?!"
Minho more hears the banter behind him than sees yet rolls his eyes at it just the same. The bickering is counterproductive, considering they're meeting a delegation from Lupegdae and their relationship with that nation is neutral at best. Therefore, they had to be beyond diplomatic now, go a bit further than cordial, be more than perfect.
It is also annoying to know that Jisung incarnated his teenage self right this moment. The captain has apparently decided arguing with Hyunjin about proper etiquette was the way to go about it. The two are squabbling as if they are not prominent members of the royal court, more than capable of killing, but two kids pinching and tugging on each other's hair because of a toy.
Minho turns back to face the two, and places hands on his own shoulders, looking at them pointedly.
It works, as the two stop to stare at him puzzled. Seungmin standing behind them frowns, eyes glinting in half recognition, half in undeserved judgement.
"Minh- Your highness?" Hyunjin corrects himself quickly enough that Minho lets it slide by. They're in official business now, titles are a must.
The crown prince taps his own shoulders.
"I'm waiting for you to make this stance so we receive the Warlord and his companions properly."
Jisung sputters, blinking frantically with his uncovered eye,"That's not- that's not the right one though?"
Minho tilts his head to the side, widening his eyes in mockery,"I'm the prince, I decide what's right. From this point on, this is how you do it."
He glares at Seungmin when he scoffs, before jerking his head to urge the duo to follow him. Jisung is first, while exchanging puzzled looks with Hyunjin, who follows suit right after.
"Still doesn't feel right to change it," Jisung mutters as taps his shoulders nervously."The other one is a historically courteous stance."
"Then why are you arguing about it with Hyunjin, who was just so graciously making sure you don't offend our visitors?" Minho snaps, going back to the prior pose, left hand curled in a loose claw and pressed to the middle of his chest and right one limp by his body, palm facing forward.
The two comply and Hyunjin looks smug for a moment before his face drops to mildly fearful under Minho's scrutiny. They're lucky the guests could arrive at any minute, so he can't lock them in a closet with a couple of swallowtail minks as punishment.
The three are his choice for the reception, something decided in the same way you naturally turn back to childhood candy during the days the sky is weighing you down. It's like there is a constant gentle hearth, sending a familiar crackle and warm embrace at his back as he turns back to the empty road. They can behave yet, it's like they always like to remind Minho that the fire in the hearth is also dangerous, but for now, their silence should do.
At least as a delegation, the four look the picture of primness after the dressers and beauty aestheticians shaved their edges. Seungmin's hair is curled in a wave over his forehead elegantly matching his silver rimmed glasses, whilst Hyunjin's long blond hair is pulled back with a ribbon and shiny barrettes and even Jisung's beaten up eyepatch is now replaced by one of new shiny black leather. The three are in the celebratory uniforms soldiers use during holidays or festivals, black, tight to the body and adapting to the surroundings, like they're human-made shadows.
The prince wishes he had gotten that lucky.
Minho's usual loose silk shirt is replaced by ruffles, there are too many buttons for him to even think of breathing in too deeply. The jewellery adorning his neck and ears is as dainty as they're trying to make him out to be and the prince's skin itches with it all. Would the visitors consider it a disingenuous farce quickly enough or would he have to keep dressing like a decoration for the whole time they're here?
Minho's spine becomes straighter when the heavy sound of paws pounding the earth invades the cooling evening.
The first thing to arrive is a simple cloth covered wagon, followed by another. Each is pulled by two massive animals, floppy ears and long muzzles, with grayish black fur covering muscular bodies. You couldn't see their eyes or much else under the long hair, only the reins the Soldiers are using to guide them. The animals grind to halt, huffing and scuffing their paws on the dirt, taking out chunks of it with their huge claws constantly at show.
The books don't do the caninae bulls, the staple mounting animals for Lupegdae, justice, not with the distorted way they're drawn on paper. Minho would go as far as to call them regal with their imposing power and size.
Boots hit the ground, around nine people moving in their direction while one walked behind the entourage. They stop in line, clad in red, fur pelts and scars, the empty space in the middle being then filled by a comparatively short man.
Minho must not be much taller than him, maybe just a blink, but that doesn't matter or comes to mind when you look at him as a whole.
Broad shoulders and a body built with experience, hidden by a thick red fur coat. Coupled by a sharp jawline and big nose, he had two eye colours, black like abyss and blue like the frigid cold mornings, a deep scar going over the latter. Those asymmetrical eyes are pointedly watching, two loosely open jaws with fangs, ready to clamp down. Minho doesn't mind, he knows his own gaze isn't much better.
The man in the middle shares a glance with the other soldiers, hits his thighs with both hands then his chest with his right, the rest trailing right after in synchrony. They finish with a full body bow, fist still crossed over their chest and right over their heart. Minho bows only his head and from the corner of his eye, sees his reception follow with the greetings.
"Thank you for accepting our invitation," the prince elevates his voice into nobility. "I'm the crown prince of this kingdom, Lee Minho, and we receive you with empty willing hands and open eyes."
"We are honored to be here," his voice isn't gruff like his appearance, just a bit nasal. It rings with a natural authority nonetheless. "I'm Warlord Bang Chan, and these are my Wolf Soldiers. May the blood between us sing high and thrive during the time we spend together."
Six of the Wolves leave the line with a nod from the Warlord, going back to the carriages. At his side remain three others, which must belong to his direct circle.
A lot of Warlords were known to lead alone, which worked well on its own. However, Chan's famous inner circle was as important as him, their words carried miles with their names. Bang Chan was one of their most prominent Warlords, yet most of the admiration for his rule is due to his underlings' achievements. He, of course, had his own fair share of accomplishments, some incredible ones at that, but the way he led, the way he encouraged people's potential, was the most prominent thing talked about when his name was thrown around.
Minho had suggested Chan for that reason actually, and it has to pay off. His parents barely trust his big political decisions as it is.
The prince steps to the side and turns to the servants waiting in tow.
"Would you please show Warlord Bang Chan's entourage where to store their belongings and shelter their mounts?" He asks.
One of them steps forward with a duty setting their shoulders straight,"Yes, your highness. Please follow us esteemed guests."
The rest of the group bows again,"Much appreciated."
The prince turns to the Warlord and his circle after shooting a pointed glance at Jisung who is nodding appreciatively at his orders, all while Hyunjin looks exaggeratedly impressed.
These brats, they could at least pretend this is his status quo, so much for childhood nostalgia smoothing over his nerves. Minho was technically groomed to be an adequate prince, the two just don't often deserve this side of him nor does Minho want to act like he is stuffed with pearls and gold around them.
Thankfully, Seungmin understands it before the duo, stepping in front of them as a barrier.
"If you would please follow me, my parents wish to first meet with you. After that I will personally show you where you will be staying, as complying to your demands." He bows full bodied to them, showing their version of respect. "Dinner will be served later at night, so you will have a chance to relax and refresh yourselves after your travels."
The Warlord bows only his head in response, a good sign,"Please, go ahead."
Minho walks to the entrance, while the two light fabrics that drape from each shoulder that are tied together by waist, turning into a single thing, flutter around his ankles. It's swishing like a tail as he walks and it makes Minho's eye twitch. If he needed to run, that excessive fabric would be a tripping hazard. The whole outfit is a hazard.
And by the amused look he gets from Seungmin at his side, he is not doing a good job at hiding his distaste.
Of course Seungmin would be one of the first to notice. Minho knew Seungmin ever since he was a puny kid with more glasses than face, and now he is an advisor that especializes in internal affairs with a finger in diplomacy that Minho knows way too much about. In exchange, Seungmin unfortunately also knew Minho too much, even Minho's eye twitches can't just pass by. So he ignores the young man's smug grin this once, choosing to relinquish on the fact that the newcomers couldn't possibly know that he was uncomfortable with the clothes, having only met minutes ago. Minho had proposed this visit, he will milk it the best he can and suppress the impulse to chase Seungmin into a ditch for the duration of it.
It's simply much more useful to take in the new now than to fall back on the familiar.
"This is the hall of shadows," he announces to the newcomers, using his hand to widen a gap between the dark green curtains draping from the ceiling, fabric almost sheer.
The whole palace had been scrubbed clean these past days, and the white and black stone, refined into swirls and complicated forms with silver details, gleamed like they had forgotten their age. The building's foundations and walls have never changed even once from when Minho was a child, and it hasn't changed in many, many generations. Curtains and carpets were the only thing that were replaced every few years, when the cloth got worn out and a new color was in fashion, but they have never used red as far as the prince knows. Red was known to be Lupegdae's most symbolic colour and Horangris hasn't forgotten it.
Minho glances back at the four walking behind Jisung and Hyunjin.
The vermillion Wolves strolling between all the monochrome are like a speck of exposed flesh. They exist as if the only material thing in a world of illusions, thrumming with an intensity that most people in Horangris never learn to have, much less to control. The men's faces keep turning to gauge at the surroundings as if they had just learned to see, their leader included, who he sees mouthing a "woah" at a particularly ornamented pillar. Their reactions make Minho raise his chin higher and puts something shiny in his chest that he can't really define.
The throne room, where they're headed, is where the annual balls happen and where the monarchy most looked supreme. Minho hates staying long in it.
He pushes the doors open himself, and the thousand silver candles on the ceiling come to sight, dripping over the black walls to fill in new shapes and drawings. The middle of the ceiling is a long collection of mirrors, making the light stronger and watching as they walk to the other end of the room. The darkened form of his parents's stretches over the roof with a trick of optics and their looming presence on the ground is exaggeratedly somber, theatrical even.
Minho is reminded once again why he had complained Seungmin's and Jisung's ears off about it. He'd tried to dissuade his parents to try for something more friendly instead of the silver throne, shaped as if it's smoke curling into shape with sharp ends on top of a platform, but to no avail. Them brushing him off wasn't new, nothing about anything in his birth home was new.
The palace is an heirloom, the decorations have not changed in hundreds of years, and for all his people valued flexibility in a sense, they also clutched at those old pillars.
If they're lucky, the Warlord will come to appreciate them too.
His parents are both in the nation's crest colors, almost like a reflection of the castle itself. Layers upon layers of elaborate clothing in black, white and silver details, with crowns curling over their heads like sharp fingernails. The same fabric tied on the prince pools freely around the two, double its size around the queen, starting from the crown and draping over her frame like a translucent veil. His father's clothes have him stiff enough for him to be confused for a statue.
They look untouchable and Minho wants to scream.
"Father, mother," he bows his head and they bow back. "The guests have arrived."
Minho moves to the side and makes way instead of joining the royals.
The Warlord goes first, and his movements still echo in the room even after he is done walking. They repeat the same greeting gesture from before, and the lights quiver as if confused with something other than satin movements and silken tongues. It's been a long time since they have been lit up and the room is shrouded in something too heavy for the flames to really grow strong.
"I am Warlord Bang Chan from Lupegdae," he bows his head first and then with his whole body. "Thank you for your invite."
The other three with him step up as well after he gets up, each bow to say their names.
Seo Changbin, a small and broad man that looks to be made of something even rougher than the Warlord, including his voice.
Lee Felix, a lithe blond man that has a cavernous voice. He moved so much like Minho's soldiers that for a moment, the prince thought he could have come from Horangris. But that was impossible, his motherland's accent was too thick on his tongue.
At last, Yang Jeongin. Clearly the youngest, yet he is sharp everywhere, eyes slanted and intelligent. He smiles at them when he finishes and all the cutting lines are gone, replaced with charming dimples.
"We receive you with empty willing hands and open eyes. Welcome to our ancient halls Wolves, we thank you for taking us on the invite once more." His mother speaks after both of the royals had made their greetings. "I hope your travels weren't heavy?"
"Not heavy at all your majesty," the Warlord answers amiably. "I have to say, however, that it's much colder than expected up here. Unfortunately, a few ended up slightly under the weather. Nothing serious and nothing we didn't learn to deal with fast. We are mostly healthy at the moment, but a bed and good rest will surely really help the afflicted out. So with your permission, I would like to ask if it would be okay for Soldier Changbin over here, forgo dinner so he could fully recover."
It was very polite to ask for their permission, but at the same time the question makes the room fizzle with a bit more abrasively and concretely than with its normal smoke. No one asks for things like that in Horangris, not when they're your own people and it is assumed you know better immediately.
The Warlord's face is serious, like it has been since he arrived, but there is also something else underneath it at the moment. It's a test.
Both his parents blink slowly and the prince hopes they remember that his inner circle goes with him to political affairs, that they're a package and that the Wolf either needs them there or consults their opinions before really deciding on anything, that it is important.
"Well yes, why wouldn't it be okay?" His father mentions in that borderline deadpan tone of his, the one that slips when he is taken off guard and forgets there are some things that aren't that explicit to others.
The warlord's eyebrows only have to twitch up a millimeter for Minho to step up.
"Father, if you could excuse us. Traveling is tiring and as the warlord said, some of his people have even fallen ill, so I will take the liberty to escort them to their quarters. If Warlord Chan wishes, we will withhold any substantial conversation is held until all can join." In any manner, the important for today, which are the greetings, have been done. Now Minho just wants to get out of the room before anyone chokes. "I will lead you to your quarters now."
He gives his parents a last bow and feels a pair of eyes burn on his back as they now walk further into the castle.
Politics are such a pain, he is already itching to find his cats and sleep for two entire days. Alas, work has to be done.
The Wolves had some specific requests about their lodging. Nothing really outrageous but it had raised Minho's eyebrows.
Warlord Chan had asked for the incredibly simple. Clean, plain rooms, all right next to one another, the closest to the training grounds as possible.
He didn't dare judge it, arranging it himself without his parents dragging a finger over the matter. For the most part, the current monarchs were good hosts, but good hosts in Horangris' standards. Minho knew they would insist on having Warlord Chan stay in a room like Minho's, and he also knew they would drag all the Wolf Soldiers together to those lavish rooms as well if needed.
Lupegdae and Horangris already did not look each other in the eye in so many matters, that making a fuss about his requests, be them a cultural thing or just a personal choice, would be like tangling history over their legs and tripping instead of just walking over. Lupegdae had been the ones invited, it's only courteous Horangris attended to their wants instead of insisting on their own idea of right.
Feet gliding over the stone, he stops in front of the empty aisle of rooms. Those were kept in good shape in case of need for more infantry, but Minho's parents hadn't seen them used while the prince was growing up in court, and unless the turbulent times turns tempestuous, these won't be filled up anytime soon with someone other than the Wolves. Minho had still asked for the most comfortable of the simple bedding to be put in them, so at least a little more of Minho's effort shines through.
"You'll find the rest of your companions in the other rooms already, or if not, someone will be soon directing them here. This room." He opens the door opposite to theirs enough for a peek. "Is the communal bathroom for this compound."
The shortest one, Changbin, makes his voice known,"Do we need to wash each other's bodies here?"
Minho clasps both his hands together, the noise covering for Hyunjin's choked, embarrassed one,"That is a personal choice, other than that, you are free to wash yourselves alone."
"Thank the eternal hunt," he hears Jeongin say, running a finger over a scar on his neck and pointing up. "Those tales were terrifying."
"What they mean to ask," the Warlord intervenes thankfully before anyone from Minho's lot can be even more clueless. "Is that for what we understand, bathing is different here and we will be taking on your offer to clean up a bit. How does showering work?"
"If you would be so kind as to follow me," the prince offers.
He cracks the door further and urges them in, wondering if maybe he should be less hands-on with showing the castle, when normally a servant would be doing the explanations. This isn't the role of the prince, his teachers would eat their own fingers if they caught a glimpse of what he is doing. Yet, at least this he is not pretending, even though he is putting on airs and a show. Minho is hands-on with the castle, and he was particularly preparing everything for their arrival and helping the staff arrange everything with the other three soldiers.
They'd had to unblock this part of the douches out from the ducts underneath for their arrival, and although turned on at least once a year and with drying rocks to avoid moss and other vegetation from forming, those old things habitually stuttered out a bit of gunk before spitting clear water. It would be good to really check if they are still working smoothly now.
It's an open room, dark green over all its ceramic floor and walls, with notes of silver on the corners, where gas lamps offer illumination since the sleek and rectangular high up windows don't do much regarding the piling darkness. There were basins with an assortment of soaps and hair treatments by the wall with a line of faucets, and in the middle of the room, the floor opens in a huge drain covered by a grid. Benches were by the sides and the wall had a wildcat's mouth sculpted where the water comes out as a torrent, with small crevices like roots going down and back inside to not waste any liquid that drips from use.
"Advisor Seungmin will explain it.." Minho stops by the drain, ignoring the way Seungmin looks at him like it's payback for his teasing earlier.
He should know Minho can and will be that petty after all these years, but this time around, it's not because of that. Seungmin should start conversing them either way as an advisor, and it's also in his interests as a possible future diplomat to develop his diplomacy skills. It just happens that due to Minho's intervention, he has to start with the topic of showering, instead of something like economics. It's much more interesting than finances if Minho could say so, but would only open his mouth about it to possibly rile up his friend, which he won't do in front of guests he barely met.
The energy in the room is lighter than when in front of his parents, but it's precariously balanced by willingly ignoring the old tension, the latter made from the same fabric as the tapestry of Lupegdae's and Horangris' joined history that is following them around. It's alive, ready to jump, engulf them and turn weapons against flesh.
Minho will keep it back even if he needs to fight it by himself.
Seungmin steps forward, cleaning his throat and gesturing to the wildcat structure.
"Our kingdom is high up on the land and has no open water reserves. It has to be taken from underground sources and so, we try not to waste or spend long in it," he says, voice light and instructional. "We wash the worst and most with the water in the basins to your side, wiping down with a damp cloth and soaps. To finish, we step under a strong douche to wipe anything we might have forgotten. The water pressure is good enough to also work as a massage, and it will turn off after a few minutes naturally, so have that in mind please."
Soldier Felix glances at his Warlord, doing the same as Minho and reading his reactions.
Bang Chan, who appears to be listening attentively to Seungmin, doesn't notice either of them watching. His eyes are attentive, and his whole posture is welcoming despite still carrying that rough demeanor of someone who is young but has lived too much at the same time. Minho doesn't see it often, the times he got close to it was when Minho himself was trying to emulate it in the mirror.
All four of the guests have that experienced aura. It's a weird dichotomy to see, because their eyes are currently shining with almost this sort of almost child-like curiosity, it makes it clear that other than Chan, they're all younger than Minho. And yet, they feel older and more mature.
The group spreads around the room, Changbin with Jeongin looking over the soaps with interest while Felix is in the middle, right above the drains, looking down and into them. The Warlord is the closest to the douche's mouth, on the opposite side of Minho and Seungmin. Hyunjin and Jisung are silent to Minho's left, playing up their roles of dutiful guards now that Seungmin has taken up his.
"And does the water used have any sort of end after this?" It's the Warlord that asks.
His tone sounds disarming, yet it tickles behind MInho's brain. It doesn't read as if he is hiding his intentions, just that he has more than one when he speaks, words open to be read right or wrongly. It will be a hit with his treacherous court.
"It's unusable for drinking or human consumption in any form after someone bathes. But the plants do not reject the soap, so either we use it to water the gardens, or we filter it and wash the training grounds with it."
Seungmin keeps answering questions that bloom from all the four Wolves, and Minho is watching it all closely, gauging for reactions. They, so far, don't stray from genuine curiosity and goodwill.
It's only because he is watching that closely for all, including his own, that he catches the exact moment Hyunjin loses balance. The soldier had been turning his head fast and following the quick back and forth from Changbin and Seungmin, who are basically chatting so fast about the local soaps it couldn't be counted as just speaking. It's a dizzying pace Minho doesn't even try to keep up with lest he grow into a daze.
Hyunjin however had always been propense to showing physically his confusion with big moves, and shakes his head, brusque and wide, and of course, too much.
He stumbles and slips on the newly waxed floor, and reaches to the side for something to hold on. The closest thing is the hanging lever that turns on the water system, and when his soldier's hand wraps around it, Minho is already rushing to Felix who is in the direct line of the waterfall that is about to come.
Felix is pushed out of the way, and Minho is pulled by his shoulders as well, but it's too sudden and too late. On instinct, Minho closes his eyes, grabs at the person's arms and locks up his muscles in case he needs to claw, and he and the unknown man are doused at the same time.
He blinks the water out of his lashes, watching as Warlord Chan's hair is now flat around his head, and with his soaked fur coat, he looks like a new species all together. They're both staring at each other's face, and Minho knows his eyebrows are up in disbelief while Chan's are as well, but the man's whole face is also set in surprise to complete this disheveled look. They are standing close, chests brushing as they rise and lower, holding each other for dear life but not hard enough to hurt.
It feels, oddly enough, too much like a choice despite the circumstances.
And if before the energy in the room had been charged, now it's sparking up in light and lighting with the way the silence stretches. He will take it by the neck and wring it until the thing is limp and calm under his fingers, Minho won't allow it to spread.
So the prince pulls back, hand loosening up enough that the Warlord understands and they step away at the same time.
"And that." Minho smiles while gritting his teeth, voice a bit too happy for it to be honest and shaking his hands to throw away the excess water. "Is how the hose works as one of my infantry captains has been so kind as to show. Both of them will get us some towels anytime now."
There is a flurry of footsteps echoing in the bathroom and Jisung and Hyunjin run out.
Minho has walked in worse shape back to his room, but it's still definitely a novelty to see him dripping through the hallways to most staff. Their wide eyes are enough for Minho's ears to grow uncomfortably warm.
So in short, he is attracting looks and adding up to the "eccentric" reputation he already has going on. He doesn't usually mind the title, it just means he does not really keep up with tradition to the point it is a bother to some, and that's mostly fine, one of their values is flexibility after all. However, Minho is currently nearing the "weirdo" of the word's scale, and that one side is actively harmful no matter how he personally doesn't care about it. People decide much of their behavior towards you on first impressions way too often and as a prince, he needs cooperation from people, not being ostracized.
Speaking on first impressions, this one certainly will stay in memory of the Warlord. In what light, it's unknown, but hopefully a comic one that can be brushed off during their stay. Minho is hoping too much about these interactions for his liking.
"I'm so sorry again." Minho bowed with his whole body, paying respect exclusively to them.
"It's fine," There is something funny about that man's tone right now, and it's actually reassuring when he smiles. "A little water never hurt us from Lupegdae, we enjoy it."
He was damp now, and all his companions had already stepped in their rooms whilst Minho personally apologized to him after Hyunjin had already done so. Jisung had rushed with the Warlord's coat away for the staff to quickly dry it and only now Minho realises his shirt is sleeveless and cropped, ending right above his pants and clearly meant to impress. The man's built pale arms are marked in scars, but he doesn't linger his eyes there to find out just how many.
"Still, please excuse us for the improper behavior," Minho insists, because he needs the Warlord to know he is serious, that this whole thing isn't just a well planned pity party for a disaster nation. "It won't repeat itself."
The Warlord's two hued eyes are sparkling good naturedly, so he thinks the message reached if anything, in part.
"It's fine Prince Minho, my boys will have a laugh about it, and that's not a bad thing."
It wasn't a good thing either, but not taking mortal offense works too.
For all the light and darkness in the world, the prince hated being soaked like this. Maybe the Warlord didn't care for it but Minho does.
It's not even that it was humiliating or the shower was bad, the water was nicely heated and not unpleasant. It is just that Minho isn't exactly used to being doused in it. Other than a few exceptions, from upbringing, most people in Horangris' try to stay a distance away from water other than for basic needs, and Minho learned just fine how to clean without a douche or his bathtub.
Hyunjin is one of those exceptions to enjoying water, and also has been buzzing like a starlight bees' nest on the way back to Minho's own room. Minho would have dealt with his unruly nervousness already if not for the need of privacy to do so, and right now, that means his room.
Seungmin closes the door behind the two, and the prince almost tears his outfit out his body, it had become like an awful second skin after wet. New discoveries everyday, the thing could be even more restraining than before.
He turns back to Hyunjin for barely a second, in his underwear and toweling his hair again, before the soldier disparades it all out.
"I ruined everything, didn't I? I got their leader wet and he said it's fine but it might have been a lie. I'm gonna be tossed out of the kingdom and banished, either by your parents, or you, or by the Warlord's request, and I'm going to die." Hyunjin finishes his theatrics, tugging at his shoulder length blond hair like he wants to rip it all off.
Minho chooses to roll his eyes and look at Hyunjin with his most unimpressed frown.
"Maybe not you banishing me," His friend rushes to say before backtracking. "Please don't?"
Minho rolls his eyes again.
"Who do you take me for?" Seungmin looks close to opening his mouth but Minho silences him by putting a finger up. "It doesn't matter because I don't care. You won't be tossed out of the kingdom, my parents don't have this sort of power and light forbid the nobles think they do. The Warlord must know better than to request things so heavy in response when this was just a light mistake. Dealing with my parents is my responsibility, if they choose to be bothered about it and even think of a punishment, then they'll do so in private and before me only. Against my word, they have no sway over the military."
The soldier relaxes, but Seungmin looks skeptical. He knows that Hyunjin wasn't exaggerating this once, he could have ruined their image of competence, since he is, after all, a well regarded captain of infantry.
It falls on Minho the weight of a mistake any of them do during the welcome. As the crown prince, he chose the people, he is responsible for them and what comes out of it. He won't say that part out loud however, or else Hyunjin would wallow in guilt again and that was counter productive.
Everything could be recuperated and rebuilt if worked on enough. The first impression they had is not finished but still a work in progress if Minho had anything to say about it.
The guests have to see one of the guards and military training then, this schedule is now priority after meetings and meals, Hyunjin could redeem on something he had proficiency over.
"This is my affair to take care of, and I will." He chooses the words carefully and takes the perfumed powder from the pots around the mirror, applying to his body. "So find Jisung and show the visitors to our training grounds and to the sword session currently going on. Tell Sungie he will receive a flick on the forehead if he starts teasing and or acts like a fool in front of the Wolf Soldiers."
"Hold Jisung back from being Jisung and show them around." Hyunjin perks right up,"Got it Minho, I'm going now."
Seungmin keeps shifting the powders around the mirror into a new order. He doesn't stop even after Hyunjin leaves, spring on the soldier's step now that his feet are not dragging behind him, when he decides to finally speak.
"You're always softer on Jisung. You'd have told me I would be tossed inside the douche's drain or that Hyunjin would have one of these beauty powders stuffed in his ears if we were the ones teasing."
"I could still do that if you annoy me enough, so try to not breathe too loudly." Minho applies another simple color to his cheeks and lips.
He sits on the bed and Seungmin finally finishes messing up the order of the pigments like usual. The advisor crosses his arms in front of his chest and tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy.
“What do you think?” Seungmin had always looked and acted more doggish outwardly despite having the cunning of a cat.
The prince puts on another set of jewelry, going for Arkenite studs and a necklace with a small rough pendant, that glowed like comet beetles with every smidge of light it caught. He puts on high waist black pants and starts the process of lacing a dark gray shirt with ruffles, buttons, and too much fabric.
“It's not been long enough, but it's promising," Or else all this hope would have left in the drain as well. "They're ready to listen and unafraid to talk."
That warlord is treating them on equal grounds and that shows openness to negotiations, to building something new since the past has already been resolved. They did clear things out with Lupegdae during the reign of the royals before his parents, but for some, that still might be too soon, or else they would have asked for aid during the disasters of fifteen years ago.
Horangris was also too focused on it's own affairs and fending off opportunistic nations to really mind anyone else. Maybe his parents would have sent some grain or doctors out of their own volition if they weren't too busy trying to keep their country independent and their people free.
Well, neither had been correct, or else Bang Chan wouldn't have agreed to come discuss business. Maybe they would start walking towards friendship in the far future, but first, they needed some sort of connection, and that could be done by the exchange of goods.
The preying birds are circling closer and closer, and there are too many for the big cats to catch. To hungry swarms of animals, lone predators can become prey if they dare even sleep.
Minho had to succeed, there was no other option.
Seungmin extends his hands and Minho gives up on tying the laces of his blouse, at least he had managed the buttons alone this time around. The advisor tightens the knots, the silence carrying a strange tune, one the prince could taste as something foreign and headache inducing in.
"Stop it."
"Didn't do anything, your highness."
"You know I can convince them. Don't worry, I won't fold."
"You're not that much of a dependable person, just so you know."
Minho held back from snapping that it really was a Seungmin problem, that he didn't want to be a responsible older brother figure to him. Yet it wasn't the moment, it wasn't like the thing in the air wouldn't turn bitter if he tried to make it light.
The candles the servants had lit up early flicker and make his image on the mirror shroud in darkness for a second, the jewels giving on points of light, making his face and intricate shirt the only discernible parts of it all. He ties his sash around his waist, the fabric spilling down in faint silver, almost draping over the ground and laces the boots up, blending with the dark of the pants.
The man looking back on the mirror was an image his teachers and parents would agree over.
"But I'm a dependable prince."