The morning bell rang through a curtain of rain falling from a grey sky. A chilly wind swept through the royal palace of Wiang Phasorn, as if reminding everyone that though the day of judgment had passed… the verdict was far from over.
Inside the vast throne hall, the hurried footsteps of palace guards echoed.
King Silawet sat silently on the golden throne, his broad shoulders taut, his expression graver than he could conceal.
“Your Majesty!”
A soldier bowed low, breath caught in urgency.
“The bandits… the Black Tiger Raiders… they’ve returned. They attacked a village outside the city last night. Many elders were slaughtered. Homes burned to ash.”
Prince Rajasihavong, standing before his father, snapped his gaze upward.
“I will end them. All of them.”
His voice was low and steady, but his eyes flared with fierce resolve.
The King slammed his armrest with force.
“Then let it be judged! Put the matter of the cloths aside for now. Today… is no longer a day of peace!”
Queen Intraninil, seated beside the King, nodded slowly.
“Return each cloth to the daughter of its land. Let this wait until the realm is calm again… then we shall judge anew.”
The command was passed on through the rows of handmaidens.
Every piece of silk, once placed proudly upon golden trays, was returned—to the hands and hearts of its rightful owner.
When it came to the last piece—the special one bearing the Twin Lion Pattern—Queen Intraninil gazed upon it for a long moment before turning to Supimpa.
“Let this piece… be given to the one who truly wove it.”
Supimpa bowed gently to the command and turned, her silver sash fluttering in the wind as she made her way to the line of servants behind the northern pavilion.
Kham-In looked up as she approached, concern and uncertainty still clouding his eyes.
Supimpa offered him a warm smile, then held out the Twin Lion cloth.
“Her Majesty Queen Intraninil has ordered… that this cloth be entrusted to you.”
Kham-In received it slowly, his hands trembling, fingertips barely grazing the silk—as if to confirm that this… was truly the love he had woven with his own hands.
“And…” she paused a moment, “Her Majesty has granted permission for you to move into my residence.”
Kham-In’s eyes widened. “You mean…”
“You and your mother, Kamlaa,” she said gently, “will live with me.”
Supimpa smiled, kindness glowing in her eyes.
“No longer under anyone’s shadow, at least for now—until peace returns to the kingdom.”
Kham-In could no longer hold back his tears. He bowed deeply, hands clasped.
“I… don’t know how I’ll ever repay this kindness. But I swear… I will treasure it in my heart until my last breath.”
Supimpa lightly touched his shoulder.
“No repayment needed, Kham-In. Just live happily… that is enough.”
Rain still trickled behind the pavilion as Kham-In and his mother packed their few belongings into bundles, walking side by side behind Supimpa toward a new home…
That night, they would sleep under a different roof—one without orders, without judgment… only kindness warmer than the morning rain.
…
Raindrops gently tapped the wooden roof of the royal hall. Servants began packing away the remnants of the morning's ceremony. The river was beginning to swell—it was nearing flood season.
Prince Rajasihavong stood motionless beneath the eaves of the throne hall, his gaze drifting northward toward the loom pavilion that still stood proudly amidst wind and rain.
“The Black Tiger Raiders…”
He muttered to himself.
“If they dare harm the people of my land—I will be the one to crush them with my own hands.”
Footsteps approached swiftly.
Prince Wihokkarat came to a stop in front of his elder brother, bowing with respect.
“The temporary pavilion has been set up near Mae Lah Creek. Supplies are ready—dried rice, clean water, medicinal herbs. The advance troops are prepared to march within two hours, my Prince.”
Prince Rajasihavong nodded slowly, turning to look at his younger brother with unwavering eyes.
“This time, I will pursue them to the very end. I will not allow them to hurt anyone again—not even in shadow.”
Prince Wihokkarat was silent for a moment before asking gently,
“And… your heart, brother?”
A simple question—laced with quiet concern.
The Crown Prince sighed softly, the steel in his eyes softening.
“He’s moved to Supimpa’s residence… At the very least, I can rest easy knowing someone kind is nearby to care for him.”
Prince Wihokkarat looked at his brother silently, before the Crown Prince added in a steady voice:
“As for Buakesa… I must let the law take its course. Everyone must face the consequences of the choices they make.”
Rain continued to fall onto the stone courtyard. The rhythm of the droplets echoed like the beat of the Prince’s heart—steady, patient. Outside, a storm loomed on the horizon. Victory had not yet come. Nor had love truly begun.
…
Later that morning, the rain began to ease. A soft breeze ushered in the early cold season, rustling through the pikun trees lining the inner residences.
Within the quiet shelter of Supimpa’s quarters, the air was filled with the scent of sun-dried silks and dried flower petals scattered across the wooden veranda. Light footsteps approached the door.
Kham-In carried a small cloth bundle in one hand, the other supporting his mother Kamlaa. His eyes were filled with gratitude too deep for words.
Supimpa, already waiting outside, greeted them with a wide smile. She stepped forward and gently took Kamlaa’s arm.
“Don’t feel shy, Kham-In. This place may not be as grand as the halls of Phapang… but it’s warm. And you deserve warmth.”
Kham-In knelt deeply, pressing his forehead to the wooden floor.
“I… have no words that could ever repay this grace.”
Supimpa helped him up, chuckling.
“Grace, what grace? I just wanted someone to keep me company. You’ll sing, weave… and maybe laugh with us a bit.”
Before they could finish the moment, sharp footsteps echoed from the walkway nearby.
“Well now! Moving in without telling me first, huh?”
Phen Duean, in her signature indigo silk, swept aside the curtain and stepped in with a bright laugh—hands full of sweets.
“You two trying to leave me all alone at my pavilion? Not a chance—I’m joining in!”
Supimpa laughed heartily as she took the snacks.
“Then come stay with us already!”
All three burst into warm laughter.
Kham-In smiled—still shy, but genuinely… for the first time since stepping into the royal palace.
A dry cough sounded from within the room.
Kham-In turned at once.
“Mother…”
He hurried in.
“Rest, alright? I’ll fetch some warm water.”
Phen Duean watched him disappear, then spoke quietly to Supimpa.
“Poor Kham-In… He knew it was wrong, yet still had to do it. Just to protect his mother…”
Supimpa nodded, her eyes softening.
“From now on… I hope he gets to live a life like anyone else. A life with happiness.”
The two women shared a silent glance before turning their eyes to the closed wooden door.
Behind that old panel… a son was weaving his life’s silk—for his mother—with love that knew no end.
…
Raindrops pattered softly upon the old pavilion’s roof.
Inside that pavilion—now a holding place for Buakesa—the air was cold and damp. The musty scent of old wood mingled with the earthy smell of rain-soaked ground, making the space feel suffocating, like a quiet prison.
Buakesa sat still on a wooden bench, her eyes red—flushed with both shame and rage. One hand gripped a fan tightly, the other rested upon her lap, trembling with seething hatred.
“How could they trample me like this…”
“I am the daughter of Phapang’s capital… not some nameless servant…!”
Kaew, her maid, stood nervously beside a post, swallowing thickly.
Buakesa glanced at her, then slowly slid down from the bench, coughing softly.
“Kaew… I feel dizzy… I think I’m going to faint… Please… fetch the guards. I’m afraid I might…”
Kaew, startled, nodded quickly and rushed out into the rain.
Once her footsteps disappeared—
Buakesa slowly opened her eyes, gleaming with fire.
“Wait for judgment? Never.”
Footsteps and voices returned.
“Lady Buakesa! Are you alright?”
Buakesa collapsed to the ground, trembling and coughing.
The guards rushed inside, calling for the royal physician.
Meanwhile, at the rear of the pavilion, a small door creaked open.
Kaew peeked in. “No one’s guarding now, my lady!”
Buakesa leapt to her feet, cloaking her face with fabric. Together, they fled into the rain, slipping behind the palace—toward the back alleys of the Chinese quarter.
The rain masked their footfalls for a while.
They darted past silk stalls, heading for the dense woods at the city’s edge.
“Quick, Kaew! No one must see us!”
But just as they neared the marketplace, a voice shouted from across the way.
“Hey! Stop! Isn’t that Lady Buakesa?!”
Several guards began to pursue.
Villagers gasped and turned. The rain didn’t let up.
Buakesa and Kaew slipped and stumbled on the wet ground, weaving through alleyways, narrowly avoiding capture until finally stopping under an old wooden shed near the outskirts.
Breathless and soaked, their once-proud silks now drenched and muddy.
“Which way now, my lady…?” Kaew asked, voice trembling.
Buakesa gritted her teeth and muttered through clenched lips:
“Anywhere… so long as I never have to bow to them again.”
…
That night, though the rain had begun to wane, the skies remained overcast.
The croaks of frogs and chirps of crickets filled the overgrown grass, mourning the chaos that had unfolded that day.
Beneath a canopy of old trees at the edge of the village, Buakesa and Kaew stood drenched and breathless in the muddy clearing. Their hair clung to their backs, and their once-opulent silk gowns were stained with mud. The once-proud noblewoman now looked disheveled, lost, and without refuge.
Before them stood a small, crumbling wooden shrine nestled among the tall grass. Faded cloths hung in tatters from its columns. Burnt-out incense lay in a heap, reduced to ash.
Buakesa stepped forward, her eyes hollow with desperation.
“A shrine to forest spirits… spirits of the wild…”
“If you’re still here… I beg you… open the path for me…”
Her voice trembled as she pressed her palms together, her lips quivering in silent prayer. Though her tone was fragile, her eyes still burned with vengeance and envy.
“I am the daughter of Phapang. I won’t let anyone destroy me.”
“If you are truly spirits… then you must know what it feels like to have the thing you love most ripped away.”
Kaew stood silently, arms crossed over her chest, not daring to interrupt.
And then… soft footsteps rustled from the shrubs beside the shrine.
“Lady…”
A raspy voice, like wind rustling through dead leaves, whispered through the shadows.
Buakesa and Kaew turned with a jolt.
From the darkness emerged the figure of an old woman, draped in a worn, tattered grey cloak. She moved slowly beneath the trees, her eyes hollow, yet glinting with uncanny awareness. One hand gripped a gnarled staff, the other loosely holding a dark cloth pouch that swayed gently.
“I believe… you seek help, don’t you?”
Buakesa froze. Her fierce eyes flickered.
She slowly brought her trembling hands together in a respectful wai, voice barely a whisper.
“Who… are you?”
The old woman laughed—dry, brittle.
“Just someone the world once cast aside… like you.”
The wind rose suddenly from the forest. Dry leaves spun wildly around the dilapidated shrine, and the night breeze whispered—like the breath of something ancient stirring in the dark.
…
A cloth woven by the soul’s last breath,
Dared show its hues amidst royal depth.
Though low-born hands may bear no fame,
Love's threads still shine without a name.
When truth blooms bold beneath heaven’s gaze,
No rank can drown love’s loyal blaze.
The heart that wove with tender grace—
Shall match the stars in fated place.
—
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