Dinner had always been a loud affair at the castle, and today was proving no different.

The large mess hall was full of knights, squires, and pages, their bright chatter filling the open expanse and the clatter of cutlery echoing above their voices. Though they sat classed within their ranks, friends between ranks grouped together, the laughter that came from their tables sounding brightest above the rest. When a knight stood to call a toast, the hall fell silent quickly, though smiles still pulled at their lips. Turning to a grand table at the head of the hall, he raised his goblet and flourished a low bow before straightening again.

“To good fortune, health, and longevity of life,” he proclaimed loudly. “And to our Princes, of whom one shall stand King when the time is right!”

“Our future King!” The men shouted.

Once the echoes of the chorus had ended, one of the four young males seated at the table addressed stood, shaking his golden blonde hair out of his face as he stood on the bench to raise his goblet and be seen by all present. His smile was bright, eyes vibrant amber, and skin flushed lightly, not quite drunk, but well on his way there. Waving an arm, he returned the bow the elder knight had presented, nearly losing his balance as he stood tall again.

“And to you men,” he called, continuing to flourish his arm wildly. “Long life and good fortune to you too, and to the knight who called this…” He stared at the knight now, searching for a name that he should be able to recall easily. Orange haired, brilliant moustache, and much taller than the blonde could ever hope to be, he found the name evading him. “Uh…”

“…-lacks Hill.”

Leaning down to the male beside him the blonde whispered, “What was the name?”

“Sir Lucas of Blacks Hill,” the aggravated response came.

Repeating the name loudly as he swung back up, wine splashing out of his goblet onto the male on his other side, he stumbled out a quick “Honour to your family,” as he tried to avoid the arms that slapped at his legs. Stepping awkwardly onto the table, he continued to jump about as the male covered in wine persisted on getting his revenge until his foot caught on a tray, tripping him. With a loud crash, he tumbled off the table, fall fortunately cushioned by an unlucky page who had been carrying a jug of ale to replenish the knights cups, plates of meat and vegetables tumbling around them.

The hall fell into stunned silence, Sir Lucas and the male who had been attacking the blonde’s legs both staring at the male with heightened amusement as he quickly leapt off the boy, fixing the tunic and taking the broken jug handle from him with a guilty smile. As he turned back to glance at the hall of men again, he raised the jug and the goblet, one in either hand, and called out gingerly, “Cheers to good fortune?”

Hearing the uncertainty in his voice, the men chuckled. Raising their own goblets, they all stood and cried a loud, “Hoorah,” before draining the goblets and seating themselves again. The hall once again fell into the chatter of earlier, attention diverted from the mess the blonde male had created.

“Ah, young Prince.”

Turning to look up at the orange haired knight, the Prince smiled warily. “Sorry,” he apologised, mistaking the elder knights amusement for annoyance.

“You did no harm Prince Byungjoo,” Sir Lucas exclaimed jovially, smacking a gloved hand onto the blonde’s shoulder. “In fact, you have done us a great service in granting us the presence of you and the other…” A pause ensued, in which the cheery glint was lost from the knight’s dark eyes as he glanced at the table momentarily, focus on one Prince in particular. Byungjoo wanted to see who Sir Lucas was looking at, but the moment was gone as quick as it had come, and Sir Lucas gestured with his goblet at the Princes as he finished his sentence. “The other Princes of which there could be no better.”

Laughing, Byungjoo quickly forgot the dark glance of the man as he tipped his head slightly. “Ah, it was no easy effort getting the three of them here.”

“But you did,” Sir Lucas reasoned, eyebrow curving. “And we knights of Theos could be no more grateful than we are now!”

“Well then,” the blonde Prince said with a smile. “I best let you get back to your men, Sir Lucanth…”

“Lucas.”

“My mistake,” Byungjoo muttered, blush colouring his skin. “I have always found it quite a task to remember names.”

“Never you mind.” Waving his hand at the gap between two Princes where Byungjoo had been, the knight said, “Now go and sit, and drink until you cannot remember your own name. We have succeeded another altercation with the southern kingdom of Salis and celebration is most certainly called for.”

“Indeed Sir Knight!” Byungjoo smiled as he raised his goblet to meet Sir Lucas’, keeping it at eye level until the knight had sat with the older knights that were closest to the Prince’s table. Spinning about, he glared at the Prince who had caused his embarrassment, not pleased with the youngest of the four. “You will pay for that.”

“I have no money,” the burgundy-haired male replied smartly. Gesturing at his shirt, he retorted, “And anyways, I think that was fair retribution for you spilling your liquor on my new shirt.”

“A shirt is replaceable,” another Prince commented as Byungjoo rounded the table to return to his seat. “A man’s pride, however, needs time for it to mend.”

“Exactly what Hojoon just said!”

“As if your pride could ever get affected.”

“Jiho!”

The three Princes quickly fell into a heated discussion, the topic quickly diminishing into childish matters of height and abilities. Of the four, these three were the most favoured of both the men present in the hall and the families of the city. Bright and cheerful, they were known by all for their great strength, their ability to face a crowd, and their confidence when leading their people to war.

If the city were to choose who they would want as their next King, it would be from one of these three, but the decision was to be made by the High King when the time was right. The choice would therefore not just be between the three rowdy males. The fourth Prince would also be included, much to the people’s distaste. The one that never smiled, the one whose appearance was most mysterious, the one who kept himself hidden from everyone but the other Princes, and the one most feared. Even now, present amongst those who he should be close to, he appeared distant, reserved, cold.

Unlike the other Princes, he remained silent, little to no visible interest displayed at being there with them. Before him, his dish was empty, having already cleared it of the meat and bread that had been on it whilst Byungjoo had made a fool of himself earlier. Being amongst people like this was not the way he would have liked to have spent the evening. There were more important things that he needed to be doing, matters that were related to the cause of the celebrations. Trying to get that information through to Byungjoo however, of whom had dragged him from his place of solace in the library, was like a throwing a wet rag at a boulder and expecting it to move; impossible.

Casting his gaze over the three still bickering males, catching some phrases related to the colours of their hair, he let it finally rest on the entrance to the mess hall. As he had hoped, a lone figure rested against the frame, eyes trained in on the solitary Prince. Nodding once to acknowledge he had seen the man, he waited until they had slipped back into the rest of the castle before turning to the other Princes.

“Why must you have chosen such an obscene colour as burgundy?”

“I am of fire, so I had to choose something to display that!”

“Jiho, that’s unreasonable. Look at Hojoon’s hair. He works with magic of the sea, and yet he does not colour it a blue or green!”

“I like my natural black hair though…”

“And yet look at Hansol. His hair is like the night sky, such a brilliant navy it is.”

“I did not get to choose what colour my hair is,” the Prince they spoke of commented, drawing the attention of the other three Princes. “However, I find that the burgundy better suits your temper than your magic, Jiho.”

“Good to hear you speak Hansol,” Hojoon called from the opposite end of the table, genuine smile on his face. The emotionless male dipped his head, the best response they knew they would get from him when around so many people.

Jiho and Byungjoo, however, had differing levels of shock and annoyance painted on their childish features. “He speaks to embarrass us,” Jiho snarled. Adding in a lighter tone, he whispered, “You must be leaving so soon?”

“Aye,” Hansol replied simply. “I have unfinished tasks awaiting me and I hope to complete them before the sun dawns tomorrow.”

“What? You’re leaving already?”

Levelling an annoyed gaze at the blonde seated beside him, Hansol hissed, “I should not have come in the first place.”

Byungjoo scowled, crossing his arms. “You were not doing anything of importance in the library when I found you.”

“That is because you do not understand what I do,” Hansol retorted. Standing, he inclined his head, stepping over the bench as Jiho and Hojoon returned the gesture. “Thank you for your company however. I had not realised dinner could be so thrilling when spent with others.”

“It would be more thrilling if you tried to participate,” Byungjoo snapped at Hansol’s back as he walked away.

Glancing over his shoulder, Hansol merely responded, “Oh no. I don’t think I would want to embarrass myself quite the way you did, Byungjoo.”

Turning away, he covered his smirk with a hand as he walked out, listening to Jiho ordering the blonde Prince to calm down until he had exited the mess hall. Swinging to the right, he made his way to the large staircase that led up to the library and the Prince’s rooms, hooking both hands into his belt as he walked. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he stopped as an inhuman shriek rang through the hall, laughter bubbling from him at the sound.

“Must you always upset the young Prince, Hansol?”

“If he is going to make me participate in events I am not comfortable with,” Hansol reasoned, glancing at the man he had seen earlier. “Then he is going to have to deal with my treatment of him as retribution.”

An eye-roll answered him. “As you wish.”

Clicking his tongue, Hansol stomped up the stairs, missing the amused smile that pulled at the man’s lips. “I don’t know why you care so much about how I treat Byungjoo these days, Howon. You have never once shown any interest in the affairs of the kingdom before, especially those concerning us Princes.”

Receiving no response, Hansol glanced at the man beside him as they walked. His lips were pressed together firmly, sharp jaw set and eyes dark as he stared straight ahead. If Hansol had been expecting a response, there was no chance of getting one now. Howon was known to be a man of few words, and even less when he chose not to speak; he knew when and when not to allow words to escape him.

“Never mind,” Hansol sighed. Waiting until they were on the landing and walking the short distance to the library, he prodded, “Tell me news of the borders.”

Sensing Howon relax from the change in topic, Hansol wondered just what it was that could make the male become so tense. “It is as you predicted once again Hansol. Just after sun down, my men intercepted a small band of knights infiltrating our lands through the Dark Forest.”

Entering the library, Hansol closed the doors and then led Howon over to the large table where he had been prior to dinner. Books, parchment, and candles were spread across the surface, covering it from one end to the other, evidence of the amount of study he had been undertaking. When he reached the table, he pushed some books away from the middle, uncovering a map of the three kingdoms.

Pointing to a black patch on the east side of the map, Hansol asked, “You said they were coming through the Dark Forest?”

“Aye,” Howon replied, circling to stand across from Hansol to look at the map. Pointing to the edge of the patch, he said, “They came up through the Black Fjord, climbing to the surface right near Ravens Peak, using the dark magic there as their cover.” Tracing his finger up the parchment and close to the border of the High King’s realm, he continued, “We did not intercept them until they were almost upon Davistown, half a day’s solid march from the Peak. Recent reports indicate we may be expecting another wave in the next week, but nothing my men and I cannot handle.”

“Thank you, Howon,” Hansol murmured. Relief had settled on his shoulders as Howon had spoken, realising that he had once again averted a crisis. Collapsing into the plush chair beside him, Hansol rested a hand over his eyes, trying to calm his beating heart and whirring thoughts.

The Prince did not know what he would do without Howon and his men. Not only were they the only men outside of the other Princes who saw how Hansol really behaved, but they were also his most trusted knights. They passed unseen by most and were able to complete tasks like the one reported on now that were of the utmost secrecy. Only the current King and Hansol knew of the tasks the forty men partook in, although Hansol had a feeling Jiho knew more about why he was always disappearing than the younger Prince let on.

“I will make my report to the King in the morning,” Howon told Hansol as he walked around to stand beside the Prince’s chair. “For now, I think you should either return to the mess hall, or to your quarters.”

Hansol shook his head. “I must finish the study Sir Galadith assigned for us tonight. I want to make sure I can get as much information before the next lesson…”

“You will be fine,” Howon assured, resting a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “I think you should be more worried about participating in the physical aspects of tomorrow’s lessons.”

“There is nothing to worry about,” Hansol snapped. When he realised his tone, he bit his tongue and dropped his hand to pass an apologetic look up at Howon. “I am sorry friend. I must admit that attending dinner tonight was quite tiresome.”

“Then sleep Hansol,” Howon urged. “You need not worry about us, we have been taking care of ourselves much longer than you have been in charge of us, and you studying when you are this tired would prove ineffective. Anyways,” he added, just as Hansol had hoped the male had stopped speaking. “It is not like you would need the extra time for study, you have already passed the tests associated with this.”

A blush rose on Hansol’s cheeks, embarrassed by Howon’s words. It was true that he had long since passed any tests related to book knowledge, but it did not change the fact that he had to study up for the extra tests Sir Galadith was sure to give him. He had also learnt that worrying about Howon and his men was a waste of his time, as there had not yet been any severe injuries reported from them and if there were any men that accompanied Howon when making their reports, they would tease Hansol for acting like their mother. After the fifth man had done it, Hansol stopped visibly worrying, but it seemed that Howon knew Hansol better than he had hoped.

“I’ll be off then Prince. Remember to have some rest before tomorrow.”

“Yes Howon,” Hansol scowled, smiling as the older male left the library, leaving the door propped behind him. As a yawn tickled his throat, he muttered, “Maybe I’ll just read one more section then I’ll knock off for the evening.”

Pulling one of the lighter journals out of the stack of eleven he had piled up near him, he opened it to the end of the last entry he had read, and continued on to the next. He was asleep before he had turned the page.

Short-ish chapter update... Maybe? :P Guess it depends on your definition of short....
Sorry if it's not that great, it came together very quickly 
(And yes, I did postpone it a while)

Anyways, here you go, my lovely 20 subscribers <3
And thank you all for subscribing I was so shocked to see you all join the story O.O

Hopefully I don't ruin the rest of this for you ㅠㅠ

So have some Hanjoo as a peace offering in advance in case I do XD

  
  
Hehehe... Thanks fy!hanjoo tumblr XD
(Hansol's smile XD That cheeky devil)