Minho

“The party is tonight, I can’t cancel it now! And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Do you have any idea what a monumentally bad decision this was?” Kibum is yelling, again. It seems that all Kibum does is yell at him these days. “The peasants are on the edge of revolt and you’re basically throwing open the doors of your brand new palace – which, might I remind you, was built while the country was suffering through the worst case of drought and crop failure in decades – and inviting them in?”

“It wasn’t my decision.” Had it been up to him, Minho would never chosen to build a new castle. His father, in his twilight years, had become more and more concerned with have an architectural legacy than with ruling and his older brother – Crown Prince Minsuk – had allowed the old man to spiral into insanity in the hopes of overthrowing him.

King Yun-Gyum never got to see his completed castle.

Crown Prince Minsuk died a mere prince.

And Minho, who up to that point had been a carefree Prince, suddenly found himself in charge of a country falling apart at the seams.

“They don’t care, Minho.” Kibum is his closest ally – a friend from childhood who is now the commander of the King’s Guard – and his most trusted advisor. “All they’re going to see is a spoiled princeling feasting on plentiful food when they basically on rations at this point.”

“That’s why I invited the people,” Minho tries to explain. He feels bad for his father’s misrule, and this party is meant to be a small apology gift to the people. Yes, they’re struggling; let them forget their struggles for one night and feast and sing and dance.

Kibum sighs. “Fine, but do you really have to be milling about the whole time?”

“It’s my party, how can I not show up?”

“It’s not safe.”

“I leave my safety in your very capable hands,” Minho replies, grimacing internally at the anger that flashes across Kibum’s face. He knows things that Kibum won’t tell him – not because Kibum is hoarding information, but because he doesn’t want Minho to worry – like the news about an underground movement pushing for a republican state. Minho knows they’re behind some of the vandalism done to the old palace – where his mother and grandparents still live – and to various statues of the older kings in the town square. He’s not very worried though; they haven’t been violent towards any people and they haven’t shown their faces yet.

And as much as Kibum worries about him, Minho is capable of looking after himself.

Kibum stomps out of the throne room and slams the door behind him. The guards standing on the inside grimace at the loud bang that echoes through the high-ceilinged room.

As the late afternoon light shines through the stained-glass windows – windows which had cost a fortune – Minho’s handmaidens come to dress him in his party finery; a white and maroon double-ed jacket, the colours of Greater Baekje’s flag. It’s not a publicity stunt. Minho truly loves his country and wants to do his best as its ruler.

A ceremonial sword hangs at his hip, a swan-feather cape is buckled around his shoulders.

The people aren’t due to arrive until nightfall, when dinner will be served and the concerts wil begin, but before that, Minho will be having high tea with the various invited artists and foreign dignitaries.

He’s especially looking forward to meeting Jinx, his favourite rock star.