When you're an active type of person, always on your feet doing your things, and you can't do what you usually do, it feels like actual torture. You fell out of a rythm, a schedule of sorts, making you edgy and out of place. 

Chanyeol felt like that too, apparently. He spent more than half of his life doing the same routine over and over again, and now he was being bed-ridden, with a strict order from the royal physician to not exert himself, so his abdominal wound could heal in peace. He couldn't get up, couldn't make his morning exercises, couldn't go to the training grounds to battle with the other warriors... He couldn't do anything which slowly killed him inside. With nothing to do, he took naps most of the time to avoid being bored, but eventually, he couldn't even close his eyes at night because of too much sleep. 

At those sleepless nights, his mind would reel back at the festival, but no matter how many times he thought about his actions, he always deemed them as right and wouldn't change his decision of risking his life.  

He often wondered about the Crown Prince, too, trying to memorise every little thing he noticed about him, as he was almost certain that his visit was probably the last time he could see the royal in the same room as himself. His raven black hair in an elegant knot on top his head, his beautiful dragon robes flowing behind him, his manners and soft speech, the delicate, gentle, yet authoritive aura around him, which screamed royalty... And the almost perfect mask he seemed to wear in the palace. 

Yet, those obsidian eyes spoke miles about his feelings. 

Some days he got visitors other than the royal physician and the maids who changed his bandage and urged him to drink a quite bitter potion. Sehun first came to the place as a messenger and gave him a letter written by his mother, which she sent out of worry when he heard that his son was severely injured. Her kind and concerned words made him smile. From then on, Sehun popped in every two days, and annoyed the hell out of Chanyeol as much as he could. 

One time Jongin stopped by, but as much as Chanyeol was glad for the visiting, he wasn't that happy when he heard what the other had to say. The tanned boy looked disappointed, to say the least. 

"The mercenary is dead," he said it quietly, so no one could hear their conversation if they happen to pass by. The palace walls had many unwanted ears. "He held on well during the tortures, as he didn't even utter a word when they did changhyong* and juri* on him. And this morning, when they wanted to continue, he was already dead." 

"You mean-" 

"Poison," Jongin stated. "It's still being inspected but it's certain he took it at night, and was dead by dawn. And the guards know nothing. Someone probably gave him the concoction at guardmount without being noticed." 

Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows and sit up with a little hiss because of the slight pain. 

"Which brings us to the conclusion that the person knew about the guard's schedule," he murmured and Jongin nodded. "There is a traitor in the palace." 

"It seems like it. I hope the chief inspector can ascertain what's happening. I just wanted you to know." 

Despite his tiredness, Chanyeol smiled a little. He was thankful he had good associates in his legion. 

"Anything else you've heard?" he asked when Jongin began to stand up and leave for training. 

"Other than your name constantly whispered across the halls? Nothing," he smirked and opened the door. "Look out, Park; if you remain this famous amongst the servants, even the king will hear about you." 

Chanyeol looked after him, until his back disappeared behind the doors, with a blank stare. He didn't know what to make out of Jongin's statement. Was it a teasing? Was it a threat? He didn't know. He laid back on his back and sighed, with his brain working full time in the silence. 

Is it actually a good thing if your superior knows about your existence? 

He forgot the discussion in no time, because as soon as the physician deemed him healthy enough, he was kindly asked to leave the infirmary, and return to his position in the army, and well, things got busy after that. Chanyeol didn't mind it at all after being bedridden for so long: his muscles screamed in joy when he started to use them again while training hard to regain his shape for his upcoming duty. 

Amongst many, he was ordered to go to the south to hold back the attacks of the Japanese pirates, while others were sent to the island of Tsushima to annihilate their main camp. It was almost an annual battle they had to fight, since the Japanese didn't give up their wish to migrate a little northwards. The army most of the time repulsed them for a while, however, they returned everytime, and Goryeo had to protect its lands. 

Chanyeol couldn't count how many waegu* died by his hands, or how much blood he washed off at the end of each day. He couldn't and didn't want to think about anything except for his command he got. His days were monotonous in the barracks and out on the battlefield, but there was nothing he could do about that; he couldn't even have time and strength to think sometimes. His whole body was sore from fighting, from his head to his toes, as he was up from dawn until dusk.

Weeks went by like that, but fortunately the border begin to clear up eventually. The rout of the pirates at the islands were successful; they even released hundreds of captives. The Japanese sorties decreased after then, and just only one thing the warriors had to do. 

Bury their fallen comrades. 

Chanyeol was in the middle of digging one of the holes for the many bodies around in the warm sunlight, armor-less, when he noticed the pair of horses coming from the general direction of the capital. But, he only blinked before he turned back to the task at his hand. It wasn't an unusual sight to see messengers during his stay, as his superiors continously briefed the king and the government about the current state of the battle. 

However, he was surprised when he actually heard his name shouted out. He exchanged a glance of confusion with the nearby knights, before he hurriedly put the spade down from his hand and jogged towards the messengers next to the main tent. His captain ignored his curious gaze, so he bowed to the other two people present instead. Judging by their appearances, they were probably from the palace guards.

"Park Chanyeol?" one of them asked with a scrutinizing gaze, to which, the young warrior nodded. The other man gave the red coil into the hands of the speaker. Chanyeol knew from the design and the colour that it was a royal order, which shocked him to say the least. What was he doing there? Why was he needed? The messenger unfurled the message and glanced briefly on Chanyeol before he began reading. Almost everyone nearby put their tools down and watched the scene before them. 

"Listen, as I convey the message," he said. "I, the ruler of the nation's country, Goryeo, hereby command Park Chanyeol at rank six, warrior of the seventh legion, from late commissioner Park Jushin's household, to leave our country's borders and turn back to our capital city, forthwith. I require an audience and expect his presence before