Lord Chungmyung

--- Snow fell the way it always did in the North—silently, endlessly, as if the world had forgotten any other season existed. Lord Chungmyung had long since grown used to it. Jiho had not. Jiho followed behind him with his head lowered, carrying the lacquered wooden tray that held the Lord’s bath oils. His steps were light, quiet… trained from childhood. But even with all that restraint, Chungmyung still heard him enter the bath chamber. ---