Kibum watched their prince eat porridge in one of the local taverns the Aeyan troop was staying at. It was the only dish on the menu that Minho could stomach and Kibum understood because it was the one which was a proper savory. Every other dish down South in Seyan always had a tad bit of sweetness to it. 

Kibum was intrigued by the variance in taste, the cultural differences, and similarities, how everything, from the buildings to the flora was so bright and colorful but the air so annoyingly hot despite summer having almost passed. He had been wandering like a tourist and experimenting with his palate, as there was nothing more he could do on this covert mission down south, a mission that had finally ended this evening when Minho had finished his promised tenure as a substitute gardener at Seyan’s castle.

Kibum finished his own meal– a stew that was both spicy and sweet– and glanced again at their prince, who seemed nothing like one with such unruly hair, muddy peasant clothes, an asymmetric wooden frame over his eyes. He was still in the disguise he had been infiltrating the Seyan castle since the past month, trying to ascertain Seyan’s intentions behind their recent request of permission to travel to Aeyan. 

Minho had left with his troop shortly after the emissary had informed them of Seyan’s request– the one who would be leading this diplomatic expedition was Seyan’s crown prince– Jinki– who had visited their emissary personally at the border to raise the request. 

After successful infiltration into Seyan’s capital, Minho’s troop had been scouring the town and even the surrounding establishments, whereas Minho had infiltrated the castle to gain insight and clear suspicions before the travel permissions were granted.

With what they had gathered over the month, Kibum had come to understand that Seyan’s intentions were genuine and amiable as there were no signs of a brewing conspiracy, only preparations for the crown prince’s upcoming trip if granted, and prayers for it to be successful. Kibum had himself struck conversations with all kinds of people on his wanderings and had gotten similar responses and views of Seyan’s desire for peace with Aeyan.

They were scheduled to return four days ago but the Prince had insisted on completing his promised tenure despite having come injured from the castle that day. He had returned early that day, with scraped palms, saying he had gotten wounded when planting rose saplings. But Kibum knew it wasn’t a gardening wound, but of a fall. The prince had also been trying to conceal a twisted ankle and would’ve gone unnoticed if Kibum hadn’t started observing him more due to his suspicions.

“I will be going in one day more,” Minho announced when he was done with his porridge, wiping his hands with the napkin.

Kibum, who had been pouring water for him, placed the jug down immediately, “Another day? But why?”

“I haven’t finished–”

Kibum interrupted him, lowering his voice, “Your Grace, your promised tenure has been completed.”

“Pay the gardener another day to write a sick letter.” Minho pushed his bowl before he got up, “Bring it to me once you have attained it.”

Kibum sighed, giving up his argument, “But what is the task that is left unfinished?”

Minho smiled as he grabbed the coat hanging on the backrest of the chair, “Planting roses.”

Kibum had returned late, way past dinner time, from his stroll around the market square the next day, only to find the tavern of the inn almost empty, save for the noisy table at the distant corner. It was evident from the closed sign on the tavern entrance and how the man before him had been turned away, that Minho had booked the entire place for the troop. 

He slowly walked to the join of the tables, at the thirty men that were causing quite a ruckus, chatting away merrily as they emptied tankard after tankard of the various kinds of local liquor that had been ordered in.

Kibum grabbed a piece of bread as he sat beside their prince, who was flushed from his drinks, the wooden frame gone from his eyes, yet his overgrown hair concealing the uncommon shade of them as he eagerly followed the hilarious accounts of one of his soldiers.

Kibum snickered at the story as well, taking the drink that had been offered to him. He listened on quietly as he helped himself to dinner, watched their prince empty another tankard, and finally, they called it a night. The prince could hold his liquor well and needed no help getting to his room but Kibum still followed, noticing the aberrant cheer in him, something about it which was also reluctant.

Minho dropped into one of the armchairs and Kibum brightened the lamps, checked the windows and around the room before dragging the chair from the desk towards where Minho was sitting, next to the unlit fireplace.

“Your Grace, should I brew you some tea from our rations?” Kibum asked, knowing that Minho usually had some herbal tea on the nights he drank to ease the aftermath of his drinking the next day.

“Yes,” Minho answered, resting back, the goofy smile not slipping off his face despite the change of environment, “But later. I’m a bit full right now.”

Kibum nodded, resting back in his chair as well, watching Minho stare at the unlit fireplace, and Kibum decided to satiate his curiosity because Minho was a bit loosened up and would give him elaborate answers to some questions he would either avoid or curtly answer when sober.

“Did you finish planting the roses today, Your Grace?”

“Yes.” Minho answered, sighing, “The retral gardens which he frequented the most were devoid of them.”

Kibum furrowed his brows slightly, “He?”

“There are his favorite flowers.”

Kibum smiled to himself slightly, a little confused, yet not quite as he furthered the conversation, “What else does he like?”

“Rice pudding and those strange sweet, round fried snacks,” Minho hummed thoughtfully, “Music, reading books, taking strolls in the garden in the evenings, drawing sketches, and playing chess. He also likes competing at aiming daggers with his brother. He likes gardening as well, but he gets so startled by worms and insects. Sometimes, I feel he doesn’t quite like it in the castle. He sneaks out into town often too and returns with so many confections. He was going to sneak out that day as well, but one of his half-siblings tripped me over the stairs. I was on my way to plant rose saplings in his part of the garden. He saw me fall, helped me up, bandaged my palms and planted those saplings for me since he didn’t want the warden to be furious, without even knowing that… it wasn’t the warden who had given me that task.”

Kibum’s face softened, it was the longest he had ever heard him talk and he sighed, asking despite having a rough idea of who it could be, “Who is he?”

Minho’s face had begun to fade then, Kibum knew from how he didn’t answer that it wasn’t because of his question but because of how Minho’s thoughts had progressed further, still lost in the track of Kibum’s previous question.