The King of Dahn and Chief Royal Secretary Baekyang Seoh sat facing each other, a low table laden with refreshments separating them. Seoh's eyes were heavy with fatigue, but his mind was alert. The king was making a move, a calculated gamble in the game of power. Whether this gambit was prompted by the recent appearance of the Crimson Star or had been long planned, Seoh couldn't be sure. But the consequences of the king's decision were undeniable.

"Your Majesty," Seoh began cautiously, "sending Princess Kyeong'ui to Birahng seems unwise. She has no military experience, let alone any experience in governance or administration. Birahng is practically a foreign land. If any unrest remains…"

"What is your assessment of Kyeong'ui's capabilities?" the king said, interrupting him.

"She is intelligent and resourceful," Seoh replied without hesitation. "But surely, the Crown Prince is more than capable."

"More than capable is not enough."

"The high officials support the Crown Prince."

"They do?" the king asked.

Seoh stammered. "Your Majesty, I meant... they are preparing the Crown Prince for the throne, for the sake of the kingdom."

"Because he is the Crown Prince now," the king said flatly.

Seoh took a sip of tea, his anxiety growing. The king's gaze drifted.

"There's something unsettling about Kyeong'ui," he said.

"What troubles you, Your Majesty?"

The king's eyes, however, were focused on a memory, a vision of his daughter's dark eyes, reflecting candle light.

"She cannot hide her desires," he said. "Its in her nature."

The king's words, their truth, were undeniable. Seoh, too, had witnessed the burning ambition in Kyeong'ui's eyes, a fiery intensity that both fascinated and unsettled him. He shared the king's apprehension, but there was something more in the king's gaze, a calculated glint that belied his paternal concern.

"Do you believe the princess desires the throne?" Seoh asked cautiously.

"Kyeong'ui will meet her end," the king replied. "A royal's ambition knows no bounds."

"And what will you do," Seoh asked, "should she succeed in Birahng and return?"

"Then I will grant her a weapon worthy of her ambition."

"But Your Majesty, if the princess were to meet an untimely end..."

"Then that's where she would meet her end," the king said without emotion.

Seoh shuddered. The king's acceptance of his daughter's potential demise was chilling.

"Even if this expedition is disguised as a pleasure cruise," Seoh said, "the officials will see through the facade. Disrupting the line of succession will inevitably lead to chaos."

"Such chaos is temporary," the king countered. "The Twin Pillars* are not."

The queen stormed into the room, interrupting the king's quiet contemplation. Seoh quickly lowered his head, but the queen ignored him, her voice sharp as she addressed the king.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"And have you forgotten the proper way to address your king?" the king retorted.

The queen, undeterred, continued her tirade. "Why are you putting your own children against each other?!"

Her words revealed an intimate knowledge of the situation, fueling the king's anger.

"It seems there's your ear among us," he said.

"Is that truly your concern right now?" the queen countered.

The king, sensing the futility of further argument, dismissed Seoh.

"Leave us," he commanded.

Seoh bowed deeply to the king and queen, then retreated from the room. As the door closed behind him, the queen sat facing her husband, her gaze sharp and accusatory.

"Maintain your composure. There was the Chief Secretary present," the king warned.

"And you maintain your composure. Stop scheming. The rightful heir is the eldest."

The king's hand tightened around his teacup, the veins in his hand standing out in stark relief.

"The line of succession has never been a guarantee in Dahn," he said.

"And that's why we've always had conflict," the queen countered.

"And that conflict put you on the throne beside me. Have you forgotten?"

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"I endured it for our children," the queen said. "Should we have simply sat and waited for the executioner's blade?"

"Your involvement was hardly passive, as I recall."

"Say what you will," the queen said, "but I won't stand by and watch them destroy each other."

"This is not your concern," the king stated coldly.

"They are my children, born of my flesh and blood. Even beasts protect their young."

"You dare compare our offspring to animals?!" the king said, his voice rising. "They belong to the Twin Pillars, not to you!"

The queen scoffed. "They are merely pieces in your game, nothing more. Are you willing to sacrifice them for your own gain?"

"Is this a game to you?" the king said furiously. "Do you even comprehend the gravity of this situation?"

"Are you, the King of Dahn, afraid of some prophecy from that scripture?"

The king's lips curled into a sneer. "You, the Queen of Dahn, speak with less sense than your own child."

"What are you talking..."

"Do not attempt to dissuade me," the king warned. "And do not approach Kyeong'ui. She has surpassed your limitations."

The king turned away, dismissing her. The queen rose abruptly and stormed out of the room. Alone once more, the king rubbed his temples, a wave of exhaustion washing over him.

──────────

Kyeongshin,exhausted, entered the main gate of the East Quarter*. a soft glow emanated from within the bedchamber, casting long shadows across the yard. He headed toward the bedchamber. Inside, his wife, the princess consort, lay in bed, their newborn son cradled in her arms. Her eyes, though filled with a mother's love, were sunken with exhaustion. The infant slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. She noticed the troubled expression on her husband's face as he approached.

"Did something happen at court?" she asked.

Kyeongshin placed a hand on her forehead. "Father was worried about you."

She brushed his hand aside. "Tell me what happened."

Kyeongshin sighed, recognizing the futility of hiding the truth from his perceptive wife. "It's about the star," he began.

The princess frowned. "Is he saying it's an ill omen, appearing after our son's birth?"

Kyeongshin scoffed. "Reason and Intellect are the cores of our kingdom. Father wouldn't entertain such superstitions."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The people are in a state of unrest. They say the star points towards Birahng. Father has tasked Kyeong'ui with investigating the matter and granted her a fleet of five warships, crewed by three hundred soldiers. With the oarsmen, it's nearly a thousand strong. She sets sail in three days, with her new betrothed."

The princess consort sat up, her movements jarring the infant awake. She soothed the crying child, her motions practiced despite her recent foray into motherhood. Kyeongshin watched with a tender fondness, but his wife, while calming their son, continued her interrogation.

"Why not entrust this to the high officials?" she asked.

"It's a matter of discretion," Kyeongshin explained. "Father doesn't want the court to appear concerned about such... trivial matters."

"Then why deploy such a significant force?"

"He has soldiers who are not under the Board of War's command," Kyeongshin revealed. "Likely personal guards from his time as a prince."

His words sparked a wave of anxiety within the princess. "But he’s never granted you any troops."

"I know," Kyeongshin admitted. "The decision has been made. It's beyond my control."

"If the situation is so dire, then why Kyeong'ui?"

Kyeongshin hesitated. He couldn't reveal the details of the meeting without facing his wife's wrath. His own outburst had seemingly cost him the opportunity, yet he suspected his father had favored Kyeong'ui from the start. Explaining the complexities of the situation seemed a daunting task.

"It's complicated," he said evasively. "Father's reprimands are nothing new. This turmoil will pass."

He attempted to downplay the situation. But his words lacked conviction, his tone too casual.

"Don't be naive," she warned. "This time, it's different."

Kyeongshin's lips tightened. The princess, though sympathetic to his anxieties, pressed on.

"Are you going to do nothing?" she asked.

Kyeongshin shook his head slowly. "I don't know what's happening in Birahng. I can only wait and see."

"Waiting will be too late," his wife argued. "The governor of Hyangdo is there."

Kyeongshin's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting I bribe him to kill my sister?"

"Does she even consider you her brother?"

"My love," Kyeongshin began, but the princess softened her tone, her words persuasive.

"I would never encourage such an act. But you can ensure the governor doesn't assist her, no matter her requests. Is that so difficult?"

"Her requests could be vital to her survival."

"Don't be naive," the princess said. "Kyeong'ui is not a fool. She understands the implications of her journey to Birahng. Yet, she persists. Do you not see what this means? She doesn't care about family anymore. Is her safety more important than our future?"

Her gaze pierced him, her determination unwavering. Kyeongshin averted his eyes.

"The governor will listen to you," she urged.

"If we act rashly and he speaks out of turn, there will be consequences. Father wouldn't place someone reliable in Hyangdo."

"Then he'll be easier to manipulate, easier to silence. If there's trouble, we can always ask my father for assistance. He'll help us."

Kyeongshin hesitated. "I need time to consider this."

"There's no time for deliberation," she pressed. "Kyeong'ui departs in three days. We must act before then."

Her relentless pressure made Kyeongshin sigh. Their infant son, oblivious to their anxieties, slept peacefully in her arms. Kyeongshin finally relented.

"Very well," he conceded. "I'll do as you say."

The princess consort, finally reassured, sighed and looked down at their sleeping son. Kyeongshin moved closer, his finger gently tracing the infant's delicate features. The child stirred, his tiny face wrinkling in his sleep. Kyeongshin's heart swelled with a tender affection.

"He grows more handsome by the day," he said.

"And more like you with each passing day," the princess replied with a smile. She caressed the child's cheek, then turned to Kyeongshin.

"You know how long we waited for him," she said.

"Indeed," Kyeong'shin replied. "And I know the burden you carried, enduring our parents' constant pressure."

The princess took his hand, her grip firm. "We are all you have, my love. And you are all we have. If we falter, our son's future is forfeit."

"It's late," Kyeongshin said gently. "You need to rest."

He kissed her forehead, then their son's, and tucked the blankets around them. He extinguished the candle and returned to his own chambers, where he sat at his desk, sleep eluding him. Instead, he unfurled a scroll and prepared his writing tools, the rhythmic grinding of the ink stick filling the silence. As the first light of dawn crept through the window, the scroll filled with his elegant script. The red star that had blazed across the night sky disappeared with the approaching dawn, its crimson glow swallowed by the horizon.

*The Twin Pillars: A metaphorical expression synonymous with "Throne and Intellect."