“Your Highness, it is starting to rain,” Khin Yu stated as he observed Zeya throw on a jacket in preparation to step outside. “Might I suggest a cape instead?”

  “It’s just a bit of rain, Khin Yu,” Zeya said lightly, brushing off the concern.

  He was no stranger to training in all kinds of weather. Before starting his martial practice with his uncle, he had just enough time to swing by the Archives. His meeting with his Master had been scheduled for tomorrow morning, and after neglecting history study all week, he was determined to make up for the deficit.

  Zeya left his quarters with Khin Yu trailing at his side, an umbrel poised to ward off the worst of it. The steady rhythm of droplets striking leaves and stone brought a strange comfort as Zeya strolled through the pace gardens. The scent of wet earth rose with every step, and his eyes traced the silver-threaded trail that rain had woven before them.

  "Khin Yu, isn’t the garden delightful in this weather? Just look at this path. It’s turned into a rather charming little river. Makes you wonder if the ducks have put in a request for extra space,” Zeya remarked, deftly stepping through the rising water to avoid spshing his legs.

  As it began to submerge his booted feet, he veered off, cutting across the grass to a gravel path leading towards the Archives. Khin Yu quickened his pace to keep up with the Crown Prince.

  “Your Highness, how long do you intend on studying at the Archives?”

  “Hopefully just for half hour or so. I do have a session with my uncle this afternoon so I mustn’t linger.”

  “In that case, I shall return with an umbrel in half an hour. This rain will likely continue for some time.”

  “Truly there’s no need, Khin Yu. Unless I get completely lost in studying, then I suppose you might have to remind me of the time,” Zeya said, stomping his boots on the doormat before stepping inside.

  He approached the history section, selecting six scrolls and bancing them in his arms before settling at a table. If he scanned each one for key information, he reasoned, it would suffice to convince his Master that he’d been studying all week.

  Five minutes per scroll. No time to waste. He unrolled them in swift succession, their edges curling like petals in bloom. But one was from a ter period. As he lifted it to return it to the shelf, the hush of footsteps reached his ears.

  Gncing back, he caught a glimpse of Lord Thura’s sister, her figure already turning to the doorway, ready to make her exist.

  “Do not leave,” Zeya spoke up.

  She froze, the breath caught in her chest, then slowly pivoted, like an elegant dancer. Zeya wondered if his voice had been too harsh as he approached cautiously.

  The girl curtsied and said, “Your Highness.”

  Zeya paused, wondering if Thura had ever mentioned her name. Finding his memory bnk, he stepped forward and asked, “We have not been introduced. What is your name?”

  She remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor at his feet. He cast a discreet gnce downward to ensure nothing was amiss, then allowed his eyes to travel upward again.

  Clearly she had been caught in the rain. She had not carried an umbrel or worn a cape. Her hair was damp and her blouse was almost sheer, clinging to her chest. Flushed, he shifted his gaze away.

  Finally the girl answered, “Sein, Your Highness.”

  “Lady Sein,” Zeya said, feeling the oddness of not knowing what to say next.

  Conversation usually required little effort on his part. Most young dies at court filled the silence with eager chatter, leaving him to nod and smile at the right moment.

  “I believe you are Lord Thura’s younger sister,” he ventured, trying to strike the right bance between formality and warmth.

  Sein nodded, her eyes fixed anywhere but on him. Unlike the other court dies, she made no effort to charm him. No fluttered shes, no practiced smiles. In fact, she seemed entirely indifferent to his presence and that caught his interest.

  “I recognised you, Lady Sein. I have seen you before at the training grounds, alongside your brother,” Zeya continued, his voice gentle as he tried to gauge her reaction.

  Surely the mention of his connection to her brother would put her at ease. As silence stretched on, Zeya was at a loss.

  Finally her gaze rose to meet his and he noted her dark eyes were unlike her brother’s. Hers were lighter in colour. He could sense she seemed to care little for who he was, which he found refreshing.

  Then an idea struck him. The day he first saw her in the Archives, she had been poring over scrolls from the Gin Empire. She might know exactly what he needed.

  With time slipping away and his training session looming, Zeya resolved to ask for her help. Gently, of course. No princely demands or pressure. Just enough warmth and charm to make her comfortable with him.

  “I see you are interested in history,” Zeya began, arms loosely crossed in an attempt to appear rexed.

  “Yes, Your Highness,” she replied.

  “I have been working through these history scrolls.” Zeya indicated to the table. “To be honest, I was hoping our paths might cross. I am aware you must be further along in this study. If I may be so bold, might I trouble you with a few questions about the, illustrious origins of our venerable history?”

  “I… if Sein can answer, Sein will, Your Highness.”

  Zeya was relieved. It had to be fate, choosing the very afternoon he decided to study to pce in his path the one person who might just rescue him from drowning in dusty scrolls.

  He gestured to the table and said in a casual tone, “There’s no need to use formal speech. You’re not that dissimir in age to me. In fact, address me as Zeya.”

  He indicated for her to sit, then sat down next to her.

  As Sein settled in, a fleeting gnce at her blouse made her cheeks crimson with self-consciousness.

  Zeya, noticing her discomfort, kept his gaze respectfully averted and offered kindly, “Speak freely and be at ease, Lady Sein.”

  The words seemed to nd as intended as her shoulders softened, and her eyes lifted to meet his once more.

  “I’m meant to read through all the scrolls on history, which I suspect might take me a hundred years. I must confess, I can be rather zy when it comes to studying history, as it’s not something that interests me greatly. Have you studied the period during the start of the Gin Empire?” Zeya said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Yes, Your… yes, I have. The reign of King Han Min.”

  Zeya leaned forward, his elbows resting lightly on the table. “I’ve heard of King Han Min. At least I know that much,” he said, carrying a note of self-mockery. “How did he manage to unify the three kingdoms?”

  This, he felt, was worth learning. Perhaps, hidden within these old accounts were truths he had yet to understand. Truths that might shape the kind of leader he aspired to become.

  “I am afraid I cannot answer. I have read how he became king. The twenty two years of prosperity during his rule and how he died. I have not read how he united the three kingdoms,” Sein replied, still adhering to a formal tone.

  “I see,” Zeya said. “Interesting how historians only capture the beginning, the peak and the ending. I’d like to hear the full tale. Will you tell me how he rose to be king? How did his journey begin?”

  Sein nodded and began, “Han Min was the youngest son of a warrior family. He had five older brothers whom all followed their family tradition and became warriors. Han Min, however, took a different path. He was…”

  Sein paused choosing her words. Zeya listened attentively, his eyes glued to her trying to read her expression.

  “His appearance and personality were considered his best asset… he was exceedingly handsome… a fine figure of a man…”

  She appeared to hesitate, and Zeya offered her a reassuring smile, and she continued.

  As he listened, he found himself increasingly fascinated by the way historians described Han Min. They spoke of a man of impeccable manners, sharp wit and effortless charm, someone whose reputation left a sting impression. It sparked a question he’d never paused to consider: what sort of legacy did he himself hope to leave behind when he was gone?

  His attention flicked back to Sein as she said, “He accumuted enormous wealth through trading ores and precious gems, and ter, the pursuit of every luxury became his focus, such as honey and exotic fruits.”

  “Ah, I daresay we owe King Han Min our gratitude for the bounty of mangos and papaya we now relish so freely,” Zeya commented, wishing to prove he’d been listening.

  “Yes, he made them avaible to the masses,” Sein agreed then drifted into silence, her brow slightly furrowed as though weighing something unspoken.

  “I apologise for interrupting, do continue,” Zeya said, gently observing her face.

  Like her brother, she radiated a calm reassuring presence. Her features were a study in symmetry, with a delicate nose and the soft curve of the lips. And those eyes, so full of unspoken thoughts suggesting she was far more than she allowed the world to see.

  “Han Min was a rather interesting character, he did not pander to the nobility or royals, despite his status and influence. He was vish with his wealth, reshaping the fortunes of those around him. And he single handedly helped elevate a host of families, establishing a prosperous middle css in his wake. One historian even described him as ‘the saviour of the people’. This earned him the favour of the masses which was pivotal in how he ultimately became king.”

  As if drawn by her words, Zeya inclined towards Sein and asked, “How so?”

  Sein recounted how Han Min had been crowned after the death of King Aung having earned the support of the people. It surprised Zeya that someone of non-royal birth had been accepted and allowed to ascend the throne.

  Marrying one of the princesses had certainly pced Han Min in a favourable position, but even so, Zeya couldn’t imagine such a thing happening in the present day. To his ears, it sounded very much like a strategic move, either to deter foreign ambitions or to pcate the popuce by pcing a popur figure to lead.

  “Over the twenty two years of his reign, he united the Northern and Southern nds creating the Gin Empire. There was no mention of how he achieved this. Not as far as in the history scrolls.”

  “It’s a pity there’s no record of exactly how King Han Min managed this. Nevertheless, he certainly seems to be a fascinating figure,” Zeya noted, folding his arms across his chest. “The twenty two years of prosperity ensured his sting memory and affection among our people. My uncle often speaks of him, recalling his charming manners that I, too, am encouraged to emute. And his immense generosity, another quality my uncle advises me to nurture. I believe he stands as a fine example of the noble kings of old.”

  Zeya felt a flicker of doubt. Perhaps he’d been too open, revealing too much of himself.

  “Your uncle appears to be a man of considerable thought and sound judgment,” Sein spoke up, with a genuine smile. “King Han Min does sound like a king from a fairytale. Unfortunately his ending was rather tragic.”

  “How did he meet his end?” Zeya arched an eyebrow, inclining towards Sein again. “I do have a soft spot for a tragic tale,” he added pyfully.

  He wasn’t sure if she was warming to him, or if it was he who found himself warming to her. Either way, a curious sense of ease had settled over him. And without the fluttering attention so often directed at him, he could simply be himself.

  When Zeya noticed Sein’s mind seemed elsewhere again, he gently urged her, “Do go on. I’d like to hear the full story.”

  “During the final years of his reign, although peace and prosperity secured the empire’s strength and influence in the region, discontent began to simmer in certain quarters. Those who were loyal to King Aung and the nobility gradually rose in opposition to King Han Min.”

  “Well, as the saying goes, a mighty tree will always attract the strongest winds,” Zeya commented, the proverb his Master had once taught him surfacing.

  “Yes, there was harsh criticism of the way the empire was ruled. The bance of power was too much in favour of the masses. I can imagine how the nobility might have felt threatened by the rising wealth and influence of the people, and likely stirred discomfort and unease among them.”

  Zeya acknowledged her words with a nod.

  She went on to describe how the Gin Empire eventually split. With tensions rising, new ws and policies were introduced in an attempt to quiet the growing discontent. However to Zeya, it seemed inevitable that such measures would only stir further unrest. When rice and oil were in short supply, it was worth noting.

  It didn’t surprise him either that other members of the royal family, along with much of the nobility, had conspired against King Han Min. Blood was thicker than loyalty, after all, and Han Min would always have been regarded as an outsider.

  Even his wife, Queen Tin, had aligned herself with her half-brother, Prince Amptu, and helped him enter the pace during a period of upheaval in the capital. Amptu challenged Han Min to a duel who had never trained as a warrior. Amptu was a master swordsman by this time so the outcome had been grimly predictable.

  “Betrayed by his own wife. Tragic, true enough,” Zeya commented, with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Did this new guy rule after defeating King Han Min? I must admit, I’ve never heard of King Amptu.”

  “No, Prince Amptu never became king. Shortly after defeating King Han Min, he too died, but of natural causes. It was thought by the people that it was karma, a sort of justice for killing their beloved king.”

  “Who ruled after King Han Min?”

  “I am afraid I have not progressed any further,” Sein said, with a sheepish smile. “I have been reading the accounts from many historians on King Han Min. He was loved by so many. There are countless stories of how he transformed many lives for the better. He used his power and status for the good of others. He was truly the king of the people.”

  “How extraordinary,” Zeya remarked. “I understand now why my uncle is always harping on about King Han Min.”

  A figure hurried into the Archives, the footsteps echoing across the floor. Both of them turned instinctively towards the doorway. It was Khin Yu.

  How had half an hour passed so quickly?

  Khin Yu bowed and lightly cleared his throat, “Your Highness, your uncle awaits you.”

  Zeya’s eyes flicked to Sein then back to his steward, “I have completely lost track of time. Khin Yu, do send my apologies to my uncle. I will be on my way once I have changed into my uniform.”

  He rose at once, offering Sein a brief head bow.

  “Much appreciated, Lady Sein.” Holding her eyes, he remarked, “You’ve spared me the need to wade through a mountain of these scrolls.”

  Rising promptly, Sein dipped into a curtsey and said, “Your Highness.”

  Zeya left the room to find Khin Yu waiting at the entrance steps, where the eaves offered brief shelter, the edge of his jacket catching a few rogue droplets. Khin Yu stepped forward and opened the umbrel with a soft whoosh.

  “Might I escort you to your quarters? It is on the way to the training hall.”

  “Absolutely. You’re rather determined to shield me from the rain. What is it? Are you worried I’ll look too windswept and irresistible, and cause a stir among the dies?”

  Khin Yu responded with his usual noncommittal “hmmm,” brushing off Zeya’s remarks before asking, “Did you have enough time to study, Your Highness?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Zeya replied, a small smile spreading across his face. “Lady Sein was exceedingly kind enough to fill me in on all I needed to know.”

  “Lady Sein?”

  “She’s Lord Thura’s younger sister,” Zeya said. “She seems remarkably pleasant and entirely agreeable… almost suspiciously so. One starts to wonder if it’s all a clever act to keep me intrigued.”

  “Your Highness is intrigued by Lady Sein?”

  “Don’t fret, Khin Yu. I’m only joking. Honestly, I’ve no interest in her. Not like that, anyway.”

  Even as the words left his lips, her smile bloomed once more in his memory. Something tender awoke within him; a glimmer of what could be, and he couldn’t help but wondered whether their paths might cross again.