“He’s gone, Your Majesty.”

Ten’s eyes are hooded from lack of sleep, his fingers idly playing with the loose chips of cherry wood at the curved edge of the round table. He regards Lord Somchai with a heavy look, coloured with weariness and fatigue.

“We searched everywhere, My King, but Sir Arthit cannot be found.”

Ten should have expected this. He knew that the succession of events was improbable. It took his uncle barely a day to pin his father’s murder on Taeyong and to use his power to manipulate soldiers in the lower ranks to lie for him. He should have seen it. All the clues were laid out in front of him, but he acted too quickly on his feelings. He should have known better.

It’s been three days since he had issued a search for his uncle. He did not want to order Arthit’s arrest because he knew that detaining a royal would have spiked the chaos that had already started to brew in the busier parts of Siam. News quickly spread of the late King’s murder and Taeyong’s name was dragged as the main culprit, people spewing hate whenever his name was uttered or read. Ten had already released an official statement to all citizens of Thailand confirming the dreadful news of his father’s murder, and also highlighted the fact that the suspect has yet to be found. But as a natural course of human response and emotion, people liked to direct their hate on an actual person and Taeyong swiftly became the target of everyone’s rage.

Ten had called for a meeting with all of the remaining members of the High Council on the day the search for Arthit commenced. The meeting lasted for half a day with Ten filling in the members of the statements of Dang, the deceptive special order as well as the possibility of having a traitor within their ranks and council. The opinions were varied and were mostly of disbelief and denial of Arthit’s involvement for the simple reason that it was too impossible to be true. Ten would have never believed it himself if he did not hear Dang’s statement firsthand and if he also did not consider all the clues that have been laid out before them for months.

“But there was no intent, Your Majesty. Sir Arthit has been loyal to His Late Majesty and Siam for decades, he couldn’t have possibly—” Sir Gamon’s words halted as he swallowed thickly, his head hanging between his shoulders.

“I know it’s a truth that’s hard to accept, but it is hard to say that he is innocent too. Sir Arthit has been missing since this morning,” Lord Somchai explained, his fingers fiddling through the thick line of parchment on his lap.

“But what if he was murdered too? What if he was captured by the real traitor??” Counsellor Preecha looked every bit anxious and exhausted, dark circles shadowing all corners of his eyes and burrowing them above his cheeks.

“We don’t know that, Counsellor Preecha,” Ten said calmly. It’s true. Arthit’s the prime suspect for his father’s murder but all they had were intangible proofs. They needed more, and most of what they needed can only come from him.

“With all due respect, My King, that is exactly my point. Sir Arthit does not even have a clear motive for your father’s murder for him to be pinned as a prime suspect. Why would he kill the late King?”

Ten’s thoughts were a jungle in his head when he stared at Counsellor Boon Nam. He had given this a lot of thought overnight but he can’t seem to deduce a single reason why his uncle would want his father killed, moreover his mother gone. Was it because of the throne? That could be a reason, but his uncle never struck him as someone who wanted the crown or who wanted the Kingdom’s power to himself. It was all a big blur.

“Ten!”

The sound of Jaehyun’s voice takes Ten back to the present. Lord Somchai’s eyebrows are furrowed while he looks at him with beseeching eyes, visibly waiting for his response.

“I’m sorry, Lord Somchai. What was your question?”

The old man clears his throat and gives his head a rough shake, strands messing with his eyelashes. “How long should we continue the search, Your Majesty?”

The soldiers have been out and searching for three days now with no rest and sleep. There is still no sign of Arthit anywhere and Ten had already exhausted half of the army to aid in the hunt.

“Until you find him,” Ten finally says.

The adviser bows, his eyes downcast and visibly contemplating on the King’s instructions.

Jaehyun is sitting next to Ten in the otherwise empty boardroom, his hands clasped on the table. “Have you checked with the people in the navy or the officials at the pier, Lord Somchai?”

Lord Somchai nods. “I did, Your Imperial Majesty. No ship has sailed since the search was ordered and there was no record of him boarding any vessel that departed on the day of Taeyong’s arrest.”

Jaehyun’s lips stretch into a single line while he looks at Ten, his eyes mirroring a thousand worries.

“Have you talked to the Lords of the High Courts and Counsellor Boon Nam about Taeyong’s release?” Ten knows it’s not in his role to interject with matters of the court as the King has far bigger responsibilities than dealing with prisoners, but he needs to make sure that Taeyong is okay and that he doesn’t suffer from his own misjudgement.

“Yes, My King. I’m afraid the Lords can’t sign his release without a trial unless…” Lord Somchai stops, his breath mildly hitching.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you order it, Your Majesty.”

The King’s Order is by far the highest rule in the country. Anything that the King says will be taken as a sacred order that cannot be challenged or disobeyed. “You mean a pardon?” Ten asks.

“Ten,” Jaehyun’s voice is soft when his hands curl around Ten’s arm. “The people will not take it lightly if you let Taeyong go. Not right now.”

“He didn’t kill my father, Jaehyun.” There’s a hint of red colouring the white in Ten’s eyes when he turns to look at Jaehyun. He sighs, “Taeyong shouldn’t even be locked up in the dungeons in the first place. It was my fault.”

Jaehyun bites on his lips. “I know, Ten. But you can't act based on what you feel again. Siam is already in bad shape and people are at a loss with the recent turn of events. You can’t just pardon the prime suspect of your father’s murder just because you know.”

Ten hates it. He hates that Jaehyun is right, and he hates how he had made such a huge mistake – one that involves putting Taeyong’s life in danger and possibly losing him forever. “I can’t just leave him there, Jaehyun,” Ten whispers, his eyes falling on his hands.

“We’ll find, Arthit, Ten. I will help you find him.”

***

By the seventh day of the search, soldiers have started falling ill, mostly from lack of sleep and immense hunger. Ten had issued a brief halt of the search for a minimum of 12 hours, allowing the soldiers to go home to their families, sleep, eat and overall recuperate their health.

“This isn’t good, Ten. You don’t look good.”

Jaehyun’s voice is nothing more than a silent hum when it reaches Ten’s ears. He’s looking outside the tall glass windows of the palace library, the light rain moistening the earth outside as much as it is dampening his spirits. His cup of tea has been abandoned for half an hour now, the drink lonely and cold on the small table facing the window. Doyoung is standing right beside Jaehyun, his head bowed while he stares at his toes.

Ten’s barely gotten any sleep for a week now, his dreams mostly consumed by nightmares involving Taeyong fighting with an unknown swordsman clothed in all black or him running along the dark hallways of the dungeons and finding Taeyong lifeless and cold in the farthest cage. He’d avoid it if he could and the only way he can think of to get rid of the nightmares is to not sleep at all.

“Your Majesty, you need to get some sleep,” Doyoung’s voice is laced with care and restraint, his fingers fumbling with the ends of his belt. “Emperor Jaehyun and I can help oversee things while you rest.”

Ten smiles lightly, feeling his cheeks ache a bit. “It’s fine, Doyoung. I shouldn’t be bothering you and Jaehyun with Siam’s difficulties. I know you both got your hands full as well.”

Jaehyun looks at Doyoung tentatively, the latter bowing his head in silence before turning back to Ten. “A raven arrived from South Korea the other day.”

Ten’s finger stops from where it’s drawing an invisible line on the glass. He turns to Jaehyun, his eyes looking heavier. “Is it bad news?”

Jaehyun shakes his head and Ten’s shoulders relax a bit. “Hansol said there is zero activity in the West. The people are doing better despite not having a King. They are still thriving without a leader though.”

This is good news, Ten thinks. At least the enemy has halted their attacks. Jaehyun is still looking at Ten worriedly, and Ten has to ask, “What else did he say?”

Jaehyun’s hands slink into the empty pockets of his hwangpo. “The South is doing well too, and the East has reported a noticeable decrease in crimes. The remaining discords are mostly superficial and can be handled in the Lower Courts.”

Ten’s still staring at Jaehyun intently, the Emperor’s eyes seemingly looking past him while he remains deep in thought. “That’s good, right?” Ten asks. He knows it’s not. Something is awfully wrong.

“I don’t know, Ten. It’s been a week since I left South Korea,” Jaehyun huffs, carding a few fingers through his hair. “I expected the enemy to attack within the central cities, so I got a lot of men deployed around the flagged perimeters in all parts of the country, but there’s been none. It’s been uncharacteristically peaceful in our country.”

Ten waits, he knows there’s more.

“Don’t you see, Ten? It’s like the enemy is waiting for something. They couldn’t have possibly just stopped seizing territories and attacking our people. What if they’re coming for someone else? What if…” Jaehyun’s voice trails off.

Ten’s never seen Jaehyun this agitated. He’s usually calm and well put together that a light fracture in his demeanour could mean so many things. Maybe it’s true, maybe the enemy is still out there waiting for something… or someone. What or who, he doesn’t know. They know the enemy’s long since spread out their men across their borders and perhaps infiltrated the Kingdoms of South Korea, but they don’t know why they’re suddenly quiet now.

“Your Majesty!!!”

Lord Somchai’s voice rings in their ears as he comes barging into the library. His gold sash hangs loose around his shoulders, the ts falling to his forearm. The Lord is out of breath and has clearly been running just to get to them. His face is etched with a thousand looming fears.

“What is it, Lord Somchai?” Ten’s voice is loud when it comes out of his mouth. “What’s going on??”

“Ch-China...” the old adviser’s voice is shaking, his fingers trembling on his sides. “The enemy’s ship is approaching the dock, Your Majesty!”

“They WHAT??”

It doesn’t take a millisecond before Ten’s feet carry him past the adviser and the number of phrais and soldiers at the hallway and up the flights of stairs to reach his chamber. He almost trips his way toward the high windows, the only place with the best vantage point of the pier. Outside, he can see the stark silhouettes of five mighty ships a few miles away from the shore, each ship stalked with an enormous black flag, its body flapping in the wind. There is a sea of soldiers from Siam’s side already armed and ready on the dock, but the ships don’t look fazed by them and are carrying on with their approach.

“Your Majesty,” a phrai appears next to Lord Somchai outside Ten’s bedroom door. “A raven just arrived for you.”

Ten turns around and sees Lord Somchai, Jaehyun and Doyoung standing breathless by the doors of his chamber, a group of soldiers already crowding them from behind. Lord Somchai quickly takes the parchment from the phrai’s hand, eyeing it carefully. From where Ten is standing, he can already see the black stamp glistening on its seal, the body of a stallion embedded in the wax.

“Open it,” Ten orders and Lord Somchai unfurls the parchment instantly with shaking fingers. “Read it out loud.”

“King Ten,” Lord Somchai begins reading, the quake in his voice as palpable as the congested air inside the room.  “This is Emperor Sicheng of the Great Empire of China. We have come for a friendly visit and are hoping for your warm hospitality. I hope you could personally welcome us.”

Ten stares at the parchment in the adviser’s hands, feeling his heart beat madly in his ears. “We can’t let them in.”

Lord Somchai bites on his lips, his thumb grazing the broken seal of the parchment. “I’m afraid there’s more, My King.”

There’s a lump forming in Ten’s throat and he centres all his remaining strength to swallow it down. “What else?” he asks.

“If not, then I’m sure you won’t mind sparing some of your men.”

Ten’s eyes widen and he quickly steps back to look outside the window, giving the ships a more careful look. His heart almost somersaults when his suspicions prove right. Outside, a much clearer form of the Invictus Maneo* is gliding towards the pier, its body dark and painted in full black. Ten doesn’t need to stand close to know that the infamous ship is armed wi