as distance tests a horse's strength

time reveals a person's character

What was built on top of an old mountain was Hiryuu Castle; crimson as the evening sun, as a tremendous red dragon that hovered over the lands, the thick forests and the rivers, the rolling hills and the windswept plains, the house districts and the city-markets, and the inner walls of painted wood and stone. The people claim that the ancient castle could touch the high heavens, and that the Dragon King's blood and bones rested there, deep within the chamber of the structure.

It was my sixth summer when I returned a second time; to the Sky Capital Kuuto, where the long roads were of stone, and the townhouses, the edifices, and the stalls were lined with paper lanterns that shone of rose-gold, fiery-amber, and bright red. Here, the buildings were tall and grand, layered atop each other like stairs, with curved roofs and miniature gardens.

"Lili," called Father, who patiently sat next to me. The ride may have rattled and ruckled, but it took more than a few trip inconveniences to stir his disposition, which made him a very accommodating travelling partner.

Facing away from the latticed window, I glanced back at him. "Yes, Father?"

"Are you not tired, my dear?" Father asked, muffling a yawn with his palm. "There is still time until we reach the castle."

"No. I'm quite awake, actually," I assured him. "I think you should rest. A nap won't hurt, no?"

Breathing out a heavy sigh, Father nodded off. "I suppose I should . . ." as his voice trailed softly into a quiet snore, his chin dropped, tipping his embroidered hat awkwardly from the movement.

I promptly adjusted his hat back in right order before I withdrew myself back to sight-seeing; in the streets of the capital, the signs were bold and the common folk were loud and alive, even when nightfall drew near and a few shops were about to close. There were artisans, apprentices, carpenters, bartering merchants, street performers entertaining a crowd, waitresses ushering guests in their teahouse, and a clique of students happily moseying about in their stiff formal clothes.

The night was young, but the stars were already driven out from their heavens. It didn't escape my notice then; how dirty orphans skittered outside a prominent brothel, how a desperate beggar stole meat from a butcher, and how an old man was driven to a corner by two rugged men. The glint of a rusted knife eclipsed the vivid rose-colored sceneries. Light and shadow coalesced it seemed, and they haunted me still, even after sliding the window close. I couldn't do anything, was my excuse, for the longest time.

—

From the mandarin tree, perched on an arched branch, a magpie preened its blue and white wings. The caprice to capture its likeness on paper overtook me, wishing I acquired my father's hand in paints. The sentiment lingered before I brushed it off and crushed one-fourth of my biscuit in my palm. When the bird peered curiously at my direction, I offered the crumbs with my raised open palm.

The little creature simply stared, a bit too mockingly. Resigning to a vexed sigh, I placed the crumbs on the windowsill and waited. As it came to its senses, the magpie flitted through the open window and pecked on the remains of my biscuit with its silver-tipped beak. My hand reached to pat its head, but it hopped away to the side, still feeding on crumbs. My brows scrunched together.

Fussy bird, aren't you?

My attention for it tarried for a few more seconds before the magpie withdrew from its place and fluttered back to the tree. Leaning on the windowsill, I flicked a tiny piece of crumb. At least the bird hadn't left a mess. I yawned. From the window, the predawn skies were a canvas in the brooding shades of dusky blues and purples.

Now the better question: why I milled around the imperial palace archives in such an early hour, I didn't really have a good excuse.

It was a whim, I supposed. Sleep hadn't come easy since my sojourn in the capital.

Rubbing my eye, I turned around and pored over great rows after rows of literature; tomes and texts, scrolls and scripts, books of old and new, bound in leather, paper, and even rare bamboo slips. My expectations were met, if not overwhelmingly so. As I trod aimlessly, I fingered the spines of books, tracing over the foreign and familiar scrawls written on their skin. A sigh rolled off my lips. It certainly made it very difficult to choose what piece I should read.

After deciding to randomly pick one book, only then did a call capture my attention. I faltered.

"Lili?"

That soft-spoken tone and high-pitch belonged to no one other than Soo-won, who was comfortably sprawled on the ground with a tome on his lap. His robes were a simple wrinkled assortment of his sleeping garments and a pale violet-gray outer robe, which was peculiarly similar to mine. I would have mused on our coincidental encounter though I found myself mulling how small he was seated there, like a duckling. He even bobbed his head like one. "Good morning."

It had been months ever since we talked to each other, ever since the escapade in Jinsei and the disclosures.

Taking in a quiet breath, I nodded in regard. "Good morning."

I was almost certain that the boy would rather dismiss me in favor of his tome. He seemed like the kind of child who wound up immersed in his books after all. However there was something akin to compensation in his eyes, and as to be polite, he traded words with me: "What are you doing here?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Wasting time, I guess," I confessed, and then without thinking it through, blurted out: "what about you?"

It was a dumb question. I blamed the earliness of the day, to stumble like this—and perhaps, his meek glances that interchanged in short periods between me and his tome. He should have just ignored me in the first place. "Oh, I'm sorry," I went along with a faux-pas instead, eyeing what he held, which was written with old drawn-out writing. "I'll leave if I'm disturbing you."

Soo-won cleared his throat. "It's fine," he assured me, and I was prepared to walk off to some uncharted part of the library, if he hadn't rambled on: "You weren't," he pursed his lips, a tentative pause followed after, "you could stay if you'd like."

Abiding, I lingered to the bookshelves like a ghost, ever silent and lurking in my steps. For once, the lengthy line of books daunted me and the need to submerge myself over the pages of a good story waned. My eyes averted, and there I found something to fascinate me. "Oh," I blinked at the sight, pulling out a lacquered gameboard from its place. "It is a shogi board."

Belatedly, Soo-won bared some semblance of interest in my discovery. "Do you play?"

"Yes," I replied, glancing back at him from my shoulder. Even though there weren't telltale signs of skepticism in his face, I didn't withhold a brag; honestly, it was a hard habit to break, when not one adult or child took my word for it. "I'm really good at it."

Soo-won made a small noise from the back of his throat. Hesitant at first, he then suggested, "Do you want to play it with me?"

I sent him a considering look. "All right," I said with a smile that was as sharp as a dagger. "But I'll warn you. I won't show you mercy."

Soo-won didn't mind the challenge in my tone. Perhaps, he might have even appreciated it.

Apparently, one aspect I did relate to him was in the game of shogi.

Once everything was assembled in place, the game consumed us then; his tome lay forgotten on his side and my boredom was cured with all but the alternate tap and tact in our pieces. What felt like seconds ticked on into hours; a silvery glow of light filtering from the windowsill, a cock crowing from some distant area.

Yet here we were: set in our match, sat on our cushioned seats, as we waited for something as small and vacuous as victory. A little competition never hurt after all. We played two rounds since then, and even though I won the first, there was something so uniquely admirable about him. Somehow each loss made him wiser. Having spent time over a single game for long, one would lose their patience over their losses to a girl meant for pleasantries and poetry.

I countered his move, ensuring a win for my part. On the other hand, Soo-won breathed out no resignation in his sigh. It was that of awestruck. "That was amazing!" he excitedly remarked, still arduous from the long game. "I was almost sure I got you on that one."

I never realized how tense my shoulders were or how parched my throat was when the match ended. I smiled at the green tea perched on the lacquered serving stand, which was graciously offered to us by an elderly servant who happened to encounter us by chance. "Well, you did take most of my pieces," I told him, before gratefully gulping down my tea. Our breakfast remained untouched; servings of soup, rice, eggs, fish roe, grilled eel, and steamed vegetables, sided with slices of apples. I picked up my chopsticks and dined.

"Yes." Soo-won observed my strategy thoroughly. The sight of him brought the feeling of nostalgia, how his eagerness reminded me of the times Father defeated me in our game. "But I didn't see you pull that last move," he said in contemplation, tugging the corners of his mouth into intrigued smile. "Would you tell me how you did it?"

I shrugged. "Okay. After breakfast," I chewed on my rice and then swallowed. "And your tea's cold."

"Oh," Soo-won fumbled over his teacup, mumbling airily: "I guess it is. . ."

Slightly dejected, Soo-won drank it anyway. I poured for him.

Having finished our meals with the empty dishes being taken care of by a servant, I explained my strategy just as he asked. He absorbed every word. It was simple, I thought. To liven him up. He looked too much like his mother, with smiles as bright as the sun.

Beaming, Soo-won thrilled. "Can we play another round?"

I nodded, starting to set the pieces back in place. I won for the third time. His spirit never wavered. I might have liked him for that; how he could charge in a lost match, never taking his losses to heart. Persevered, I would have called it, before considering the words: enthusiastically curious.

However footfalls echoed thunderously and the flap of a dark velvet cape overshadowed our heads.

The Crown Prince arrived like a storm.

Perhaps, it was true. In those verses, where the bards sung praises about men that were great and terrible; you could tell from a glance what kind of power threatened beneath, how it rattled you from the marrow of your bones in a kind of pure resonant fear one may also claim as awe. He wasn't called by many a name, though he was respected as a general and a prince, and to some a hard rationalist and a nonbeliever. There were some occasions he was lauded as a hero after the war between Xing, despite his ruthlessness when he beheaded the soldiers of his enemy nation.

Regardless, Grandfather Mosu acknowledged him, his mind, his confidence, and his strength. I, however, struggled to catch a breath from his overwhelming presence. As my nerves twisted and my knees trembled beneath my dress, I held my composure with practiced grace.

Unperturbed as ever, Soo-won confronted him with a grin that split his face in half. I found their interaction a bit too mundane, albeit his father's intonation with the manner he greeted us; so stern and strict, even in a casual conversation. Absentmindedly, my thoughts drifted back to Lady Yong-hi—and although she loved her son dearly, she seldom mentioned a heartfelt word about her husband. He wouldn't have mistreated her, I thought. Perhaps, it'd been like my parents.

"Father, Lili is really good in playing the game," Soo-won told him chirpily. "She beat me three times."

"Is that so?" Prince Yu-hon drawled out. It was beyond telling if it was one out of mild interest or dismissal. "Then let that serve you as a lesson to amend your shortcomings in strategy."

"Yes, Father," Soo-won understood with a nod.

"This time, I'd like you to pay attention."

Recognizing his father's tone meant for censuring him, I assumed that his admonition required privacy for the both of them when they play; obviously, without my presence, which I was quite willing to not intervene in. Shifting from my position, I kept my head low and respectful. "If you'll excuse me. . ."

"Girl," Prince Yu-hon's voice rose. "I did not dismiss you."

"I apologize, Your Highness." I kneeled back in my cushioned seat.

Arms crossed and menacing, the Prince went in his son's place. "You play shogi?"

Soo-won was docilely situated in the middle, where he beheld a full view of the board. Through a side glance, he gave me an assuring nod.

I sucked in a quiet breath through my teeth. "Yes," I replied, interpreting that he invited me to play a game with him. Once I wordlessly took it upon myself to return back together the pieces in neat order, he never questioned me in my actions. "I learned it from my father."

There was what I perceived to be a considering stare beneath all his daunting demeanor. Prince Yu-hon initiated the first move. It was a bold choice to put an offensive gold general on the frontlines. "Hm, I never realized General Joon-gi would have it in him to teach his daughter," his dark eyes were as sharp as a hawk's upon studying my movements. "Enlighten me what shogi is." It wasn't a request. More like a test of sorts.

Taking precaution, I advanced my horse. "It is the game of generals," I cleared my throat, supplementing: "a game of strategy."

The moment his fingers placed his third piece I saw through his game plan. It was a similar maneuver that Grandfather had used against me to end the match with only five simple moves. "Strategy indeed," said the Prince. "What use is strategy for a little girl?"

I countered it, hindering his red general with my dragon.

"Tact," I answered simply. "Your Highness."

His brows crept up his forehead, ever so slightly.

Our match lagged on for a few minutes or so. Concentrating, I could tell his decisions were measuredly precise and pragmatic, if not audacious, when he was willing to not spare most of his foot soldiers. A part of me believed it to be arrogance however I mulled over the thought that perhaps he highly prioritized the mobility of his generals with his king general positioned alongside its subjects.

His black general charged forward, plucking my silver general out of the game. "Tell me, girl," Prince Yu-hon drawled, brows inquisitive, "have you ever played against your grandfather?"

Taking in a deep breath, I nodded earnestly. "Yes, Your Highness."

"How many times?"

"I should say a few."

"And have you won against him?"

Blocking with a countermove, I took his gold general. His lips quirked.

In retaliation, he breached through my barricade and claimed one of my pieces as his own.

Sweat prickled at the base of my collar. Unable to move my jade general, I opted to risk my horse piece.

"No, Your Highness."

The Prince set down his black general. The dull thud that came after echoed through the walls. The game was over.

"I commend you for that little trick you pulled earlier," Prince Yu-hon smirked in lieu of an amused smile. "However I still find your strategy passive. You constantly resist attack and rely too much on your defenses. Asserting little offense, it leaves you with openings, such as this one," he censured at my faults on the board, on my cornered, claimed, and fallen pieces. All of which were rendered irredeemable. "It's a careless mistake. Keep a cool head in the match; it will do you no good if that trait is upheld skin-deep alone. In the future, improve on those weaknesses, An Lili."

Only then when the Crown Prince bid his parting words and left, I swallowed in a large breath. There was a twinge in my chest; my confidence crippled by an inch. I overlooked and overdid, that's how I was defeated.

"Lili," a gentle hand cupped my shoulder, "don't be discouraged. Father could be hard on people sometimes, but he's really impressed, honest," Soo-won reassured me. His voice was a little too kind, too earnest, for a boy who won in his losses. "He just scolded you so that you could do better next time."

The corners of my mouth curled up feebly at him. "Really?"

Grinning, Soo-won pointed a finger at himself. "He does that to me as well," he admitted in a jovial tone. "Besides if he wants you to improve that might mean he wants to play with you again."

I would have taken that as the best compliment I've ever had, if only I didn't blanch at the thought of confronting his father.

—

The sway of the wind was lost to the collective hiss and thud of wooden blades. Beneath the glare of the sun, men gathered over the training grounds. There were organized spars occurring between partners; sweat and salt on bared skin, strength stretched taut on muscles. Then came the slap of a strike, swift movement in tandem, and a buzz of energy zipping through the air.

These soldiers hadn't really minded that I was there. Perhaps, they picked up quickly that a little girl wouldn't have the nerve to interfere. Joo-doh trained alongside them as a supervisor, and at the time he recognized me from my spot, he must have told them off to ignore my presence. Regardless, nothing really changed and the small sliver of attention goaded some of them to flex most of their fighting capacity.

Leaning my weight over the balustrade, I nestled my chin on top of my folded arms; my shoulders hunched in the manner I could get rebuked for. It was lax and unladylike, and I was a little grateful that Se-hun tolerated me for my behavior. My nursemaids, overly prude and proper, tended to be a tad too skittish when situated to a place as grand as Hiryuu Castle.

Next to a tall vermillion pillar, Se-hun hovered over my shoulder. A knowing look gleamed from his ashen eyes. "You don't wish to mingle with the other children, Lady Lili?"

Resisting the urge to grumble, I frowned. "Not you too, Se-hun."

"Apologies, my lady," Se-hun said before exhaling out a sigh. Dae-ho wasn't by his side. "You're quite withdrawn."

"I suppose I am," I shrugged nonchalantly. "But I think I may just be tedious."

A thoughtful hum resonated from his lips. "If I may be so bold to ask, do the soldier's drills intrigue you?"

My eyes kept vigil on a certain pair. A wooden sword was launched, crossed by another, and then a swerve, thrust, sidestep—a hit to the neck, followed by a grunt. The curse vehemently blurted out was amusing.

"I'm not interested in swordplay," I admitted dispassionately. Besides, this kind of spectacle would be valued more by Haru. Sulking from my corner, half of my mind began to deeply miss his company and the other of the matter of acquiring a skill for self-defense. However the latter felt too cumbersome and my parents might as well be against the idea of me brandishing a sword around.

"Is that so?" Se-hun voiced out, watching alongside me. He never winced once at the crackling sound of beaten flesh. "Well, this might pique your interest; the young lordling is mastering the blade."

"Soo-won doesn't have enough muscle for that," I contradicted, brows furrowed at the prospect. "He's too small."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Se-hun bit down a chuckle. "He does try hard, Lady Lili."

As I humored him, my head cocked to the side. "Does he now?"

"I heard he is being trained under General Mundok," Se-hun explained in his rumination with a thumb hooked under his chin. "There is also his father as well, the Crown Prince," offhandedly, he maundered in a low voice: "thinking about it now makes me quite anxious of the boy's potential in a duel."

"Potential? With his soft pale arms," I pressed my cheek on my palm, staring numbly from my distance. A wandering falcon shot forth the horizon, soaring as if it could touch the sun. "No way."

Despite my denial, I was aware that he'd grow to be a great swordsman in a prodigious pace, an archer, and even a falconer. In the pretense of ignorance, I would like to entertain the thought that, as Lili had eloquently put it, Soo-won was like tofu, with his tofu arms and tofu face. I closed my eyes. Honestly, just let him be that boy, even just for awhile.

However it never did happen that way and that there was something detestably ironic in my position. As most expectations were, I might as well have held their future at the palm of my hand. It may come off as an arrogant notion, overdone even, but there remained a shred of truth about the matter: I knew and that's it. Though it wasn't simple, especially when the world behaved in a manner that didn't appear as predetermined as I believed it to be. Something changed and is perpetually changing. I began to fear the uncertain unpredictability of things that hung high above my head.

Then there was that golden boy: a child who'd been a bit too kind, a bit too generous. He was a boy who'd do anything to make you happy when he liked you. The very same boy who would learn how to stain his hands with blood.

For a moment, I averted my eyes away, and an unvoiced question crept at the back of my head.

Do gods laugh? I pondered over the dragons on the hangings above, crooked grins stretching wide on their jowls.

—

"So you believe in the Dragon gods, Lady Lili."

Tearing my attention from the stone deities, my eyes found curious brown ones. It was a noble boy; certainly, not one of the ilk my mother had introduced or had left unspoken about. The dark maroon cape and the flare of bold blood-red color dyed in the fabric were telling, as if whispering of great importance and fire-in-my-blood. Despite this, I might have recognized him from his long ash-brown hair.

The boy in question grinned sheepishly, taking a step closer. "Ah, it is you! Forgive me, there are very few devotees in the capital," he explained before flitting back his gaze back to the miniature household altar; green and blue ivy crept outside the walls that it was built onto like thick veins, however what lay within were carved figures of painted dragons, whirling and dancing on lacquered wood and stone, as with mid-air. "Only those who truly believe come back here."

My stare was riveted back to the famous Hebei Shrine, adorned with written scriptures and colorful tassels swaying from the open threshold. There was a charming branch of pear blossom, rice grains, and red beans as offerings. The fresh incense stick that was lit earlier ago made the air rife with the smell of spice and burnt ash. The kind that made me want to cough the smoke out of my lungs.

"The Dragon gods are still worshiped by the water people," I replied, but I had none of the sentiments of a faithful follower. Perhaps, the gods were real though it never meant I would acknowledge them. My voice was lost to its polished stoic intonation. "My mother happens to be one of them and so am I."

Almost taken aback by my tone, he nodded. "Oh, I see."

Feigning ignorance, I then gently asked, "Perchance, have we met?"

With wide frantic eyes, the boy might as well have jumped from his chagrin. "I-I don't believe so. Well, not personally, but I do recognize you from the Queen's funeral," he smilingly tried to compose himself. Somehow, I felt for the sighing aide behind him. "You are General Joon-gi's daughter, yes?"

"Yes," I answered coolly.

"Pardon me for not introducing myself, my lady," Tae-jun placed a hand to his chest, the cape on his shoulders flickering in bright carmine against the light. "My name is Kan Tae-jun, son of General Soo-jin. I am pleased to meet you."

Politeness was one thing, but had he always been so . . . amiable? From my recollection, Fire tribe noblemen always oozed with unnecessary smarm. Their children were same in that regard; all flourishes and flattery. I took note that he hadn't spoken one word of blandishment in his part. "Likewise," I said, before curtseying. "If you would excuse me, I am expected to return back to the castle."

Once I padded back to the side of my waiting bodyguards, Tae-jun followed after me with his own. "May I escort you back? I myself am expected by my brother to return at this hour."

It would be rude to deny him. However I could not help but muse if I had, would he throw a tantrum?

I stifled the urge to sigh. It would do me no good to raise disdain from him, and putting my mother's teachings into good use, I acquiesced. Se-hun might as well have been reassured of the prospect that I interacted with a child near my age. Dae-ho minded his own business, as he always had. Tae-jun's reticent servant watched us with mild interest—that, or perhaps to oversee his young master's slip of tongue.

And so we ambled ahead of our bodyguards, four steps behind our pace, as we crossed on an arched bone-white bridge and passed through the inner-districts. If my nursemaids tailed along, one would have scolded that I should have carried a parasol, even if the sun provided warmth from the late-spring chill. Another may have chastised me thoroughly that I should have brought along a female chaperone because I never seemed to lack the company of grown men and boys. How scandalous, I almost rolled my eyes at the thought.

Peering at the boy next to me who was modest enough to provide an arm's breadth of space between us, I traced over his features. He did take after his father; angular face, tall lean build, and similar hairstyle. General Kan Soo-jin was definitely not a man that was hard to miss or like either.

My eyebrows knit together. The resemblance was there, but it didn't quite feel the same. I would have condoned that he was too young and naïve to be as clandestine as his father though I couldn't seem to grasp what felt so off about him. My mind racked over it for a time, and as we went along the path and the quiet between us became too ill-fitting to be expected of blue-blooded youth, I initiated first: "You are being nice."

No longer surveying some ripe round peaches from a fruit stall, Tae-jun quirked a brow at me. "Does that surprise you?"

Odd response. I would have argued that he shouldn't have answered me with a question, but I proceeded being truthful anyway. "A little. I'm quite aware that both our lord fathers aren't in the most agreeable terms."

Father was never one to hold grudges, but he made an exception with the Fire General, regardless.

"I suppose I could understand that," Tae-jun replied with a knowing glint in his eye, shrugging about the matter. That didn't even bother him, not one bit. "How old are you, Lili?" and then genially, as to not appear too informal: "oh, may I call you Lili?"

I nodded in response. "I'm six."

"Is that so? I almost assumed you to be older. I believe somewhere in my age."

"How old are you?"

"Eleven," Tae-jun claimed, strangely without the need to boast that he was older. "But I'll turn twelve at the end of summer."

I would have replied that I would turn seven in mid-summer, but I found myself commenting on his uncharacteristically mature tone. "You don't sound like an eleven year-old, I think," I idly twirled a strand of my hair, observing him from the corner of my eye.

Tae-jun didn't budge. However a boyish grin stretched wide on his mouth, baring the slightest peek of teeth. "And what must an eleven year-old sound like?"

"I don't mean it like that," I crossed my arms petulantly. I wasn't certain if he took my word seriously or not; regardless, it felt more like the latter with the manner he consistently kept playing with my sentences. "Rather, you sound older."

Tae-jun shrugged. He did that a lot. "Many people say that."

This boy barely reached puberty in this age; long-limbed and taller than most, but a child still. Though even the carefree smile on his lips had an edge to it that held a kind of subtle confidence, round eyes sharper and shrewder. Had it lent itself like Soo-won's precociousness?

Recollecting that he had mentioned a brother, I brought up the matter as to continue our conversation. "How many brothers do you have?"

Tae-jun beamed at the question. "I only have one. He is my older brother," there was unabashed admiration in his voice, and from the luster in his eyes, he seemed genuinely mirthful at the thought of his sibling.

Somehow, I couldn't help but crinkle my lips into a small smile. I blamed it on my sentimentality, because in another lifetime I did have brothers of my own and having rekindled their memory brought a fleeting warmth to my chest.

Noticing my reaction, he kindly assumed, "Do you have siblings?"

Bobbing my head to the side, I sighed. "No," I said, betraying my thoughts. In an attempt to prolong our talk, I raised the innocent question: "Don't brothers always argue?"

Tae-jun almost looked like he was about to snicker. "Not always," he hooked a thumb under his chin, as if he was reminiscing about the matter. "In our case, I guess we argue quite a lot. But most of it is just from petty things."

Curiously, I pressed on, "Like what?"

Tae-jun shook his head, his ash-brown locks swaying from his shoulder. An amused gleam shone from his eyes. "That will be my secret."

My brow arched in response. "I think you seem like a person who keeps plenty of secrets, Tae-jun."

Shrugging insouciantly, Tae-jun smiled. "Don't we all?"

I stared at him. "I suppose."

—

"Ri-Ri, don't be stubborn," growled Haru, contending back at the demanding stallion after having fed it its share of grains and seeds. "It's not like you're some kind of princess, you mule," from his snide remark, the horse neighed as if to threaten him, a hoof thumping on the ground, "fine, fine, you're not a mule."

I grinned impishly behind him. "Did you really miss me that much that you're starting to call Rihito with my name?"

"Shit—" Haru jumped, turning back in surprise, "damn it, Li! Stop sneaking up on me."

"Oh that wouldn't be fun," I told him back, handing the stallion an apple, which it appreciatively nibbled on. My hand rose to pet its silky sable hair to its curved neck, thick and strong; Rihito was a beautiful horse, a wild and virile creature, that possessed a jet black coat that held a blue luster against the light. "Hello, Rihito," my lips twisted shut before erupting into a chuckle: "pfft, Ri-Ri."

"Hey, last time we talked your name's not Ri-Ri," Haru pointed out in annoyance. "Also don't overfeed Ri—Rihito. He's already a fat cow," as if it comprehended his insult, the stallion vengefully jerked back his head by the snarls of his dark hair through its grated teeth. "Ow, Ri-Ri, stop that!"

Smiling in amusement, I did the boy a favor through separating him from the horse. "Well, it is close-sounding."

Haru huffed, disgustedly inspecting his locks; a portion of his hair was slick and sticky with saliva. "Stop being so full of yourself," before he could attempt to wipe it away with his shirt, I handed him my handkerchief. For awhile, he stared at it and then me. "Besides," he began, gradually accepting my offer with a glare, "how's your prince?"

He's not my prince.

I opened my mouth and with slight hesitation, realized dumbfoundedly: ". . . okay, I guess."

"That's new," drawled Haru in mild interest, as he cleaned off his hair. It was still a matted mess, however. "So did anything interesting happen?"

Averting my gaze away, I contemplated for an answer. "Well, we talked."

"Mhmm."

"It was fine, I think," I admitted. "Well, at best, he's tolerable. Friendlier."

"Mhmm."

"We played shogi."

"Mhmm."

My brows scrunched together. "What's that suspicious look for?"

Shrugging insouciantly, Haru raised his hands up as if to affirm his innocence. "Don't know what you mean," once my soiled handkerchief was returned only then did a mischievous glimmer shone from the corner of his eye and he had the gall to say back: "Well, if he starts kissing you, I don't want to hear a word."

"Haru, that is the single most disturbing accusation you have said to me this whole evening," I deadpanned, smoothing my face into a flat unflattering expression. I wouldn't let myself overreact. "I might just consider hitting your face for that."

Haru snorted at that. "As if I'd let you try, long face," he retorted, looking down at me from his height. "Anyways, you don't know. Who knows, maybe you're still being set-up for enge—engagement or something. You keep seeing him, right? Don't even get me started how the both of you just sneaked off that one time, Li. Besides that, I don't hear you complainin' that much about seeing other noble boys anymore," and then a slow telling smirk pulled up his lips, the gap between his front teeth ever prominent, "so that kissing part isn't that unlikely to happen at all."

Of course, I was offended. Of course, I still did what a retaliating brat would do; I kicked his shin.

And while the boy cried out in pain, Ri-Ri the horse might have just laughed.

Stomping away from the stables, Haru grudgingly avoided me after my attempt to console him out of it. Perhaps, there was also the issue that I didn't bother apologizing, not that he deserved it. "Well, I don't miss you anymore, Li," Haru grouched out. "You can go away now."

Following him in his fast stride, I grinned from ear to ear. "Aww, but you missed me anyway," I said cheekily. My attention then drifted from his indignant face to the pouch stringed on his belt; there was a hefty clattering of coins inside. "Besides where did you earn that?"

His black eyes averted away from my suspecting ones. "I have another job."

"Since when did you need another job?"

Haru clicked his tongue. "I've been doing some things," he blundered out before he unwittingly blinked at his vague choice of words, mumbling afterwards: "uh, it's complicated."

My brow curved in response. I would have argued that he should have spent his time practicing his reading and writing while I was gone. However he'd never been one to hold his tongue—let alone, guard what appeared to be a secret. Had it been so important to keep it, even from me? "Tell me," I persisted on.

Still uncertain, the boy was about to confide to me.

"Lili."

My eyes pulsed wide. A chill settled at the pit my gut.

There we stood, nearly frozen.

"Father."

Coming across us from his stroll, Father glanced at me and then the boy. His tone grew stiff. "Who is this?"

While Haru acted out through a humble respectful bow, I started, nearly fumbling over my words, "This is," I weighed on my options, my tongue thick and curled on the roof of my mouth. It was so simple to lie, to evade the question with cold dismissal, however it felt almost treasonous to turn my back against them with insincerity—and hadn't I always, for the hypocrite that I am? "His name is Haru. He is a stable boy," swallowing the cold lump on my throat, I confessed, "and he is my friend."

Something rippled from his calm face, beneath the hat from his brow. "You, boy," Father called him, making me cringe at his coroneted stoic tone. "Are you truly my daughter's friend?"

Forcing himself to stand rim-rod straight, Haru faced him headlong, bare of all subtleties, as he always did in an honest fight. His fists clenched, quaking. "Yes, my lord."

Father's lack of response hurt.

"Lili," he began, "might I have a word?"

I nodded obediently. After assuring the boy with a comforting smile, Father and I left and distanced ourselves from him.

With the solemn manner he stood, Father abstractedly reminded me of a slender heron; pale and withdrawn in its stillness. There was patience and anticipation too, I realized, when his neck craned and his white fluttering sleeves swayed from the motion of his wrists.

Father then glanced at me next to the weeping willow; long finely bristled tresses of ivory green moving like a pendulum from the cool breeze, occasionally dipping its leaves on the shallow pond. A lucent ring spread wide on the surface of water, rippling our reflections under the bridge. My fingers familiarly trailed over the carmine wood as I always had, whenever he brought me here to admire the koi, the willow, the water lilies, and the small frogs that swam beneath.

From the dusky coloring of the sky, his flaxen hair hadn't been that of gold, but it dulled in gray, streaked silver with age. I thought it suited him, regardless. "Does your mother know about this?"

I pursed my lips. "No."

"Tell me, truthfully," this time, his voice was gentle, soft as clear water, "is this why you've been hiding from your nursemaids?"

Hesitantly, I bobbed my head. "Yes," it hadn't been the only reason however I didn't have the heart to confess my frustrations when servants hounded after me at my beck and call. "I didn't want anyone to know about it." That was true as well, though.

Father crouched down to my level, his crystalline blue eyes meeting mine. I held a breath, bracing myself for his disapproval.

A frown formed on his mouth. In the stead of a rebuke, Father voiced out his disappointment: "And you didn't tell me, my dear?"

My heart stuttered from my chest. "I didn't think you would like him."

His head tilted to the side. "Has he been good to you then?"

"Yes," I nodded, my eyes as bright as my mother's. "Always."

"Then it can't be helped."

A reluctant sigh rolled off his lips.

"Lili, if your mother asks where you are, tell her you've been spending time with me in my study," Father instructed, a thumb cupping his chin. Although I could tell there was some whit of disinclination on his decision, he then imparted to me: "I expect no troublemaking from you both, yes?"

My eyes widened in disbelief. "You . . . really?"

"Yes, my dear," Father fondly patted the top of my head. "Off you go. I appear to might have frightened your friend."

Spurned by a tide of emotions, I embraced him without warning. "That's because you're always so serious, Father."

"Now, now, you know that's not true," replied Father, a little taken aback by my words.

"Of course not," I beamed at him, pecking a kiss to his cheek.

Father smiled one of his small sincere smiles.

Departing from the bridge, I searched for the boy, who I found brooding at a shadowy corner, like a glum berated child. I empathized.

Once Haru noticed me approach him, he gawked insecurely down on his feet, his hand scratching at the back of his head. His hair was still damp and tousled through his fingers. "Lili, did I do something wrong?"

My lips curved up in response. "No, actually, it's the opposite."

Stunned, Haru blinked at me. "Eh, really?"

"Yes," I assured him, nudging his arm. "You're one lucky bastard, you know that?"

We amused ourselves for a time, under the old birch tree. However the thought never escaped me, when a flicker of silver inauspiciously flashed from his heavy pouch. Silver, I mused, as a stone dragon's wide crooked grin.

Exposition corner:

Hebei Shrine: It is a miniature shrine found somewhere within the market district in Kuuto. Hebei Shrine is one of the many religious places that are left untouched and vacated; however unlike the abandoned temples and shrines in the capital, this shrine is deemed sacred by the people because it was believed to be protected by the deities themselves. Evidence to that are the stone figures that don't appear to weather over time and that not even plants grow within the shrine.

The citizens, even those who are no longer faithful devotees, insisted that the shrine should be left in peace after a rumor spread about Prince Yu-hon's intention to destroy the shrine. It was after a consultation with King Joo-nam that he grudgingly abided to the wishes of the people, which was believed to be a tactical maneuver to gain back their favor after having driven out the priests at the time.

Miniature shrines in Kouka are comparable to Japanese hokora, miniature Shinto shrines found on the precincts of a larger shrine or on a street side.

Shogi: It still is the Japanese version of western chess with slight variations. This applies to Koukan Shogi, the Game of Generals.

In a nutshell, it has similar aspects to western chess, by; winning through capturing the opposing King, capturing pieces, dropping pieces into play, some of the pieces have similar moves to its western counterparts—while some are different.

Their differences: obviously the arrangement, opposing armies aren't indicated by different colors but by orientation of the board, you can promote your pieces to gain new powers (kind of like an upgrade) with the exception of the King, and there's no Queen piece for this version.

The pieces: The King General (King) and Jade General (King). There's one King for two players, just to be clear. The different names are just there to distinguish the difference between the two, like how King General is the White King and Jade General is the Black King in the western version.

Next there are Gold General, Silver General, Dragon (Bishop), Red General (Rook), Black General (Lance), Horse (Knight), and Foot Soldier (Pawn).

I changed four of the pieces' traditional Japanese names: Laurel Horse (Knight) to Horse, Angle Mover (Bishop) to Dragon, Flying Chariot (Rook) to Red General, and Fragrant Chariot (Lance) to Black General.

I hope you bear with me for not using the western terms such as Knight, Rook, Bishop, etc. because this still is a different game. Other than that, I did it to stay consistent because it's not like there are such terms like 'knights' in the AnY world.

I do play chess, and although I haven't played Japanese Shogi (and would love to just try playing it if I have the chance), I personally think you can just go crazy with this game with the moves of each of its pieces. I mean you can promote your pieces too by upgrading their moves. Just imagine the possibilities available to you with this kind of game, just wow. Okay, I should stop nerding out now.

So, why is Shogi suddenly so significant? That's because this'll be important for our two snobs, and well, to other characters too.

Milan Liepke: 'will there be romance in this?'

Not sure about that yet.

mingx: 'I don't know where Lili's motivation lies in this world. From what I can see, she seems to passively accept what's thrust before her.'

I've actually been anticipating for this kind of review so I'm grateful for someone pointing this out. Yes, it's true that she's been acting more like a passive protagonist so far, but at this point, she doesn't know what she wants to do. Not much has happened and she's actually had it easy, which doesn't give her much of a position to act out yet or make a defined goal. Actually, I'm just hoping I'm doing this realistically given her position.

Without spoiling much, Lili's passivism to everything won't last.

mondie-starr: 'I was gonna comment why she's not bringing up about her past, and when that scene happened, yeah, it looked like she didn't want to think about it (I think?). Just kinda reminds me how she doesn't want to face a lot of things.'

Umm, first of all, can I just say I loved all your reviews? I can't stop laughing when I read them. Second, you got it right. Lili is somewhat of a coward in a way, not wanting to confront things when it gets too personal or complicated. But there's also another reason for that.

A/N: Not my best chapter, but it's done! I'll edit it out later. Anyways, this was supposed to be a serious chapter, but it turned out to be lighter than I anticipated. There's another one year timeskip for these characters in the next chapter, which I'll do my best finishing within the month before my eventual hiatus. Other than that, so the thing with Tae-jun . . . yeah, I'd like to hear your thoughts about that.

I'm probably going to sound like a broken record here, but I'm very grateful for the people who review, follow, and favorite! Constructive criticism and questions are always welcome!