So it was still there. Within me. (3)
“What in the world is going on?”
A vast crowd had gathered near the main gate of the Imperial Palace. What they were watching were countless imperial troops, and the civil and military officials surrounded by them.
Living near the Imperial Palace, they often had opportunities to witness palace ceremonies. Even so, today’s spectacle was unlike anything they had ever seen. For one thing, there were more imperial troops and officials than they had ever seen before.
At a glance, there were so many that one might have wondered whether everyone inside that enormous palace was pouring out beyond its gates.
“L-Look over there.”
“Huh?”
“White horses are coming out. That… isn’t that the Dragon Carriage [용거(龍車) – Emperor’s special carriage]?”
“The Dragon Carriage?”
Someone repeated the words and turned their head. Snow-white horses emerged through the palace gates, and soon an enormous carriage drawn by twenty-four white horses came into view.
“Ah? Aaaagh! Bow down at once, at once!”
The commoners threw themselves flat onto the ground in terror. Those who knew the laws of the Imperial Palace felt cold sweat soaking their backs.
‘What is happening?’
Some might find this strange. Since they lived in Beijing, surely they must have seen the Dragon Carriage ridden by the Emperor any number of times.
But that was a laughable notion.
Lowly commoners were not permitted to gaze upon the Emperor’s noble visage. Indeed, merely laying eyes on the Dragon Carriage itself was considered a crime. Therefore, the route the Emperor was to take would first undergo Cheongdo [청도(淸道) – literally ‘clear the path’], with all people removed and the road secured well in advance.
And yet the Dragon Carriage had suddenly appeared without the path being cleared at all.
‘What in the world is happening?’
Without any warning whatsoever, the Emperor had abruptly left the palace. There was not even an Honor Guard [의장대(儀仗隊)] to accompany the Emperor’s procession, nor so much as a single blast from the customary trumpets. There were only the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the civil and military officials marching onward with grim faces.
The sight filled the commoners with an overwhelming dread.
A calamity had occurred. Without a doubt.
But there was nothing ordinary folk could do about it. All they could do was lie flat upon the ground until the entire procession had disappeared into the distance, keeping clear of those cold, menacing blades.
Only after even the rear ranks of the imperial troops escorting the Dragon Carriage had vanished far into the distance did the people finally begin to raise their heads cautiously, one by one.
“W-What in the world was that?”
“Right?”
Voices filled with bewilderment rose from every direction without pause. Yet none of them progressed beyond voicing anxious speculation that led nowhere.
Naturally so. A single careless remark here could cost someone their head.
But whenever a crowd gathers, there are always one or two people who completely lack the common sense everyone else takes for granted.
“What could have made His Majesty so desperate? One would think he was fleeing.”
“…”
For a moment, silence fell. Everyone who had been talking without pause turned pale and stared at the man who had spoken. Flinching beneath the barrage of fierce gazes, he suddenly flew into a rage.
“W-What! Did I say something wrong? Huh?”
The problem was not that he was wrong. The problem was that his words sounded disturbingly true.
“F-Fleeing! How dare you utter something so disrespectful?”
“It’s not like I wanted to say it. The more I think about it, the stranger it seems. There wasn’t even an Honor Guard, and they didn’t even clear the path. It looked like they were just rushing people out.”
“….You’re wrong.”
“Huh? What am I wrong about?”
“It wasn’t only people leaving. You probably didn’t see properly because you had your head bowed, but there must have been several thousand carts following behind them.”
“….S-Several thousand? Did you just say several thousand?”
“I’m telling you, there were.”
The people’s eyes wavered greatly.
Several thousand carts.
No matter how vast the Imperial Palace might be, several thousand carts of that size would be enough to carry away everything inside it.
“Then what is this? Are they relocating the capital [천도(遷都)] or something?”
“Don’t be absurd! Relocating the capital! No one is invading us, so why would they suddenly move the capital? Unless a war had broken out, how could…!”
It was then.
“That war is about to begin this very moment.”
A clear, resonant voice rang out from somewhere nearby. The murmuring crowd turned as one towards its source. A group of young civil officials in full court robes was approaching. At their head stood a man with a dignified bearing, who opened his mouth to speak.
“So make your preparations at once. You must abandon this place and leave.”
“W-What do you mean by that? Leave? Are you telling us to evacuate?”
“Precisely.”
“Evacuate all of a sudden? Where are we supposed to go after abandoning our homes at a moment’s notice? This is absurd! Have you not been misinformed, Sir?”
At the somewhat confrontational question, one of the officials flared up and was about to snap back. But Jwa Gohak, standing at the front, raised a hand to stop him and answered calmly instead.
“Then remain here.”
“….Pardon?”
“If you find it difficult to believe, you may stay as you are. Those who do believe us should follow. We will do everything in our power to ensure your survival.”
“Is that really something an official should be saying?”
“We have no time to waste arguing. Should we not save even one more person while we still can?”
The bewilderment on the commoners’ faces became unmistakable.
Had the young civil official tried to persuade them at length, they might have suspected that he had some ulterior motive. But seeing the urgency in his manner, they had no choice but to believe him.
Something was undoubtedly about to happen. If they remained here, they would not escape the coming catastrophe.
“Then…….”
“What are we to do?!”
Seeing several of the people grow desperate, Jwa Gohak nodded. Matters like this could never be fully explained in words. Once one or two people began to move, others would follow as though swept along by the current.
“There are carts left beneath the palace wall over there. Those who are able should take them home at once. If you mean to move people, put people aboard. If you mean to move your household possessions, load your possessions. As of this moment, every cart in the Imperial Capital is hereby requisitioned by the Court. Ownership will make no difference, so take every cart you see!”
“A-And after that?”
“Finish your preparations within six hours and gather at the South Gate. Move now! Now!”
Naturally, not everyone who heard those words sprang into action at once.
But that did not matter. A few people grasped just how urgent the situation was, and when they began running to the carts as Jwa Gohak had instructed, the rest were swept up in their urgency as well.
“I-I’m first!”
“Out of my way! They said we have to flee right now!”
“If you’re going to waste time, then get lost! I’m doing as I was told!”
Only when the people began racing off, each trying to outrun the others, did Jwa Gohak finally release the tension that had gripped his entire body. He swayed slightly as a result, and those standing guard behind him hurried to support him.
“Are you all right, Sahyeong? Ah, no. Academician?”
“Just call me Sahyeong.”
Jwa Gohak repeatedly wiped at his pale face.
‘Thank goodness.’
He had pretended to be calm, but in truth, the strain had been unbearable.
The office of an Imperial Academician might be considered an important post within the Imperial Court, but that only mattered among officials. To those people, he was nothing more than a young greenhorn wearing official robes.
It could never have been easy for them to trust the words of such a greenhorn, abandon their homes, and flee. Had he failed to properly stir them into action here, tens of thousands more lives might have been lost.
But this was enough. Once that many people began causing an uproar as they packed their belongings and fled, even those who knew nothing of the situation would naturally follow after them.
“Move. We have no time for this. Go and urge the people onward. With no one available to maintain order, this is the best we can do.”
“Yes, Sahyeong.”
Jwa Gohak’s Sajes, all of whom had now become officials themselves, rushed off in a swarm. Then one of them hesitated and looked back at Jwa Gohak. His expression suggested that he had something to say.
“Will…. there truly be enough time? It will take at least another full day for this many people to pass through the city gates. And even one day is the most conservative estimate.”
“Time… Well.”
Jwa Gohak’s gaze turned towards the distant northern gate of Beijing.
“Now, all we can do is place our faith in the Commander.”
⠀
The Commander stood atop the towering city wall, his solemn gaze lowered to the ground below.
For a long while he stared across the empty plain before him. Then, slowly turning his head, he looked over the troops filling the length of the wall.
‘It is not a small force.’
No. It was not.
Of course, compared to the empire’s golden age a century ago, when one hundred thousand soldiers had been stationed here to defend the Imperial Capital alone, it was a pitiful force. Even so, no one in the world would call an army of thirty thousand men small.
And yet his heart remained heavy, because the Commander knew the truth. These men were nothing but empty husks. Their splendid armor concealed the fact that they were soldiers incapable of fighting a proper war.
From the very beginning, the Imperial Army had been a force built upon contradiction.
The Imperial Army had to be elite, for its duty was to protect the Emperor. Yet precisely because of that, it was rarely ever called upon to fight in war. If the Imperial Army was deployed, it could only be after the tide of victory had already turned decisively in their favor.
A magnificent sword that should never have to be drawn. Who would devote themselves to honing such a blade?
As a result, the true elite troops were no longer here. Nor should they have been.
‘Would things have been different if the Grand General were here?’
Who could say? He could not answer with certainty. The reason the Grand General had spent so many years on the northern frontier was, in the end, because even he had been unable to endure the vicious power struggles within the Imperial Court.
But at the very least, had he been here, the Crimson Banner Army would have been in Beijing, and the Emperor would never have been forced into the humiliation of fleeing the city to escape a band of heretical fanatics.
Yes… perhaps that is true…
“What an idiot.”
Reproaching himself, the Commander bit down hard on his lip.
He was a military man.
If such thoughts served the future, then they naturally had value. But if they amounted to nothing more than lamenting the present, they were utterly worthless.
Anyone can fight when victory is assured. A man deserves to be called a soldier only if he can fight even when defeat is certain.
That was why he was here.
The Commander turned around. He saw something different from before: the commoners moving frantically below the walls.
‘I don’t know.’
Was he here to protect the Emperor, or was he trying to protect them?
One thing was certain. Whatever it was the Imperial Army sought to protect, the civil officials scattered among those commoners were clearly trying to protect the people.
“……Even those feeble civil officials are staking their lives.”
“Commander?”
“It is nothing. Are the preparations complete?”
“Perfectly.”
At those words, the Commander’s gaze turned towards the cannons [화포(火砲)] and fire arrows* mounted along the walls.
The combination of high walls and artillery – the most effective means of bringing down martial artists – would not be breached easily. Yes, even if that devil came…
“And the reserve cannons?”
“We have more than fifty held in reserve.”
“Remove the fire arrows and position the cannons in their place.”
“Commander?”
“Quickly.”
“Yes!”
The Commander slowly clenched his teeth.
Against ordinary enemies, fire arrows fitted with oil jars would unleash destruction akin to the work of the Grim Reaper.
But against demonic cultists, they would accomplish nothing. Even taking the time to fire them would be a waste. It would be better to use that time to fire one more Grand General Cannon**.
Once more, the Commander turned his gaze behind him.
The first time, he had looked at his army, and the second, at the commoners. The last thing he now surveyed was the city of Beijing itself.
‘It will burn. Just as it did a hundred years ago.’
The Commander foresaw that future. But one thing would be different this time. In the inferno that consumed this city, the enemy’s corpses would burn alongside it.
“Commander! Ahead!”
The Commander looked towards the direction his subordinate was pointing. From the horizon, something dark began rolling forward like a mass of black storm clouds. At the sight of that ominous shape, the Commander gripped his spear so tightly it seemed it might snap in his hand.
“All troops. To your positions.”
A fierce resolve settled over the Commander’s face.
“Today, we fight the devil.”
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*화전(火箭) – (military, historical) A metal dart or arrow furnished with a combustible such as gunpowder for setting fire to ships.
**대장군포(大將軍砲) – heavy, metal-cast cannon developed in Korea during the late Goryeo and early Joseon dynasties.
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