MAKJOSEON.

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"It is unwise to advance our troops into Jinjoseon now," Advisor Bom-Nuri informed a group of seven generals who whispered among themselves in displeasures, "we need to gather the supplies of Beonjoseon before we can begin to conquer more of the northern lands,"

None of them spoke after as the advisor's eyes roamed around their faces, searching for any other disapprovals coming from the military's representatives. Bom-Nuri was a fierce man, respected and never defied unless they wanted to die. He was well trusted by the two generations of kings of Makjoseon and served the royal house for almost thirty-nine summers.

He was known for many things in the court as he was the embodiment of Mireuk — the creator god who when angered, caused many of the world sufferings, according to other advisors who served the King of Makjoseon. Bom-Nuri tended to cause havoc within the court if needed, escaping the punishment which was to follow for the mayhem as at the end of the day, he was too powerful to confront.

Some believed that he was the god himself or that he was a descendant of the sacred being. But it was always to remain a mystery.

"Advisor Bom-Nuri," a young general bowed respectfully as he stepped out of the small group, "I would like to speak to the King,"

The other generals glanced at him briefly, sending him silent farewells as he dared to request a private meeting with the King himself. Everyone knew how unpleasantly it ended and how much of a risk it is to confidentially meet with the King who was undoubtedly not someone you would enjoy negotiating with.

"Who are you to request such?" The older man spat, eyes narrowed at the young general, whose expression did not change. Who was this male? Bom-Nuri thought as the younger man bowed again.

"General Park Jimin," his soft voice bounced off the walls of the hall and hit the advisor with a great force and he sharply jumped out of his seat.

"Park?" Bom-Nuri's brows rose, and immediate guilt took over him, "you are the nephew of Park Gyeong-Su?" He asked carefully.

Jimin only nodded and Bom-Nuri mumbled a quick excuse of treating the male harshly. His uncle, Park Gyeong-Su, was the most famous general among the royal army. He led the First Company — the utmost elite and powerful fraction known. Dedicated, prevailing and a worthy leader; his nephew was just like him despite being of a young age to hold such elevated rank among the military of Makjoseon.

As the advisor was about to request the general to follow him, a few careful steps repeated through the room and everyone's heads instantly lowered, including the advisor as the King of Makjoseon himself entered, the doors closing tight behind him as he finally stepped into the hall completely.

His graceful robes stretched as they trailed behind him, the black silk with embroidered patterns, heavy and shining under the rays of the sun which got through the thin cracks of the wooden walls. His aura, gloomy and threatening, had engulfed everyone and no one could help but feel as if they are before Seokga himself. The extravagant headdress of white gold had the rarest gems decorating it, shining as some of the gems dangled at the sides, reaching his shoulders.

"Who wished to speak to me?" He asked, voice deep yet soft, eyes roaming around the generals who had their heads low.

"Your majesty," Bom-Nuri cried out and fell to the feet of the King, "Sang-je's favoured—"

"I asked who wanted to speak to me," the King repeated himself, brown eyes fixed down at the man on his knees before him.

He detested when he had to repeat himself to his inferiors as he was usually not the one to engage into any banters due to his secluded and soundless nature. And today, the members of the court were truly beginning to lose faith in his rage.

Bom-Nuri gulped and looked up, meeting the King's heavy gaze, "General Park Jimin," the advisor bowed again, and the King glanced at the generals whose heads were hanging low, solid, and not daring to move a muscle.

"Step forward, general," the King ordered calmly and watched as the young man stepped out of the group, head still low as he was petrified to look up at the King without permission, "everyone else, leave," he looked at the rest of the generals.

The six remaining generals nodded, muttering praises for the King before scurrying out of the hall, the doors closing quietly behind them. The halls of the King's palace were of the dark wood, well-polished and decorated with various patterns which were uncommon in the northern united confederacies.

Something that Makjoseon was not part of, nor would ever be. Not after the wars which were raging for generations in their lands.

"I said everyone," the King looked down at his advisor who had a terrified expression on his face, "that includes you," he grumbled, and the advisor startled.

"Great King—" Bom-Nuri began apologising, raising onto his feet, trembling as he saw the King's face turn into a grimace.

"Leave!" The King roared before his advisor could utter another word and Jimin flinched at the tone, the King's face calm but eyes fiercer than the fire itself and the older man hurried out, not daring to anger the King any further.

The King turned to the general, his head still low and body stiff as he shuddered slightly, "head up," and Jimin complied.

The King let out a silent, barely evident gasp as he finally saw the face of the young general. He was very youthful and charismatic. Thick lips and wide eyes, just like a child's but high cheekbones and strong jaw which the King could still see from the front angle. He was unsure as to why he had never seen such beautiful man before as he served the best company in Makjoseon's military, thus it would make sense for them to see each other at least once, but that never seemed to happen until now.

Jimin on the other hand was afraid, the King was a petrifying man despite his attractiveness. He always had hooded eyes, as if he was to fall into a deep slumber at any moment the young general had seen him. Pouty lips, slightly chapped and most likely icy, while his hair, unusually dover white, long, and neat just as his robes, reaching his hips. His unusually pale skin was the evidence of his constant stays at the palace which were no secret, as well as the headdress he wore almost every day, following the traditions.

"What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?" The King finally asked, brow raised.

"My men informed me that Kim Namjoon is most likely to send a messenger to foreign lands for aid, if Beonjoseon falls under our rule that is," Jimin said discreetly, bowing slightly as the King hummed with a slight nod.

"Foreign lands are big," he began and Jimin only nodded, "it is either the north or the southwest," he turned around and walked over to the map of his kingdom which was hanging on the wall behind the chairs.

"Northwest," the general dared to begin, alert, "is inhabited by a nameless race to us," he followed the King and stood by his side, careful not to displease the older man.

The King glanced at the general who was now stood to his left, curious of the foreign societies which lived in distant lands, "and what of them that you do know?"

"They are pallid, towering, with mostly bright eyes and hair, analogous to deluxe silver and gold," Jimin informed the King, "some have the eyes of the grass and rarely of the soil,"

The King's eyes never left Jimin as he listened to him speak of the foreign race. He was aware that there were many other people and settlements which were far from their lands, but never knew of what they looked like. He became a King unwillingly, never showed a significance in governance or authority, but he had no choice as his uncle gave him the throne of Makjoseon before leaving the world.

Surprisingly, Park Jimin knew of the race and the King challenged the male, attentive to what the general has to say, "how do you know?"

"I've seen them," the general was not taken aback by the question, smiling briefly, "several risk to cruise near our lands during intervals, but that is rare and usually in spring or summertime,"

"They sail?" The King was a bit shocked; eyes widened a little and he looked at the fabrics which hid his hands briefly, reaching out his right hand to the map, lengthy and whitish fingers tracing the seas which were painted.

"Yes, your majesty," Jimin nodded, pointing at the eastern coast of their kingdom, "they are off to the southern seas where we do not see their reappearance," he explained, finger trailing down on the map, "we assume that they make a circle around our lands to return,"

"Where might they return?" The King mumbled but loud enough for the general to hear who took a small step closer to the map.

The King was screaming internally at the proximity of the male general. He was so close to him that he felt the warmth, which was emitting from the younger, a clear contrast to his coldness. Their shoulders touched at the movement Jimin had made, unaware of the effect it would have on the King, thus he paid no attention, fingers on the map as they trailed around the peninsula to mimic the paths of the foreign people, explaining his assumptions.

"And thus, it would be wise for us to capture one of their ships," Jimin finished his explanation and a proposition, hand dropping at his side and glancing at the King whose eyes were fixed on the map still, flawless face slightly tinted in an amaranth shade.

The King quickly glanced at his general who was looking at him expectedly and after a near minute of silence, the King finally spoke, "I trust you with your responsibilities, Park,"

In actuality, Min Yoongi was not the true person for the throne of Makjoseon, but the events which had taken place recently gave him no other alternatives and he cautiously agreed to become the King. To say that he regretted it the next day was an understatement. He sought nothing but to run away, as far as he can to avoid this outcome and leave the kingdom behind.

When Dangun assigned Ungbaekda as the Vice Dangun of Makjoseon, he settled in Pyongyang and ruled the state in harmony, avoiding any conflict with the other areas. Many years have passed, and many rulers replaced themselves and swore to keep the peace.

Abandoned by his parents, he was left to his uncle; a merciless king who ruled the spreads of Makjoseon. Known for unending accusations of massive disappearances of settlements and officials within the court — Min Jong-Su — the killer of the wealthy. His nephew was expected to continue the doings of his uncle and avenge more wars on the people of the northern confederacies.

Living in the shadows of highly set expectations, the crown prince of the time, would always attempt to flee the watchful eyes of his uncle, eager to abandon the regal life and travel the world, forget the life he once lived.

However, to his destiny, he had the kingdom of Mokjoseon dropped onto his trembling hands at the age of fourteen, ignoring the pleas of the advisors to advance to the northern lands so soon, waiting patiently for the right time to do so.

But Yoongi did not care if his kingdom would be wrecked apart or decay over time by itself — he wanted freedom, and now, he saw a new opportunity that he is willing to take in order to achieve the sacred liberty.