"High Councilor, the deserters who fled last night have been captured."
Joon's report broke the pre-dawn stillness of Ryang's residence. Ryang sat at his desk, still in his nightclothes, immersed in a stack of documents. His eyes continued to dart methodically across the parchment. He didn't look up.
"How many?" he asked.
"Seven."
Ryang quickly calculated the recent surge in desertions before issuing a curt command. "Take them to the west gate."
Desertions had multiplied the moment news of Dongrahng's fall reached Hyangdo. The first had fled the day Cheon Hwan's fleet anchored at Nahmgyo. In strict accordance with military law, the Wi forces executed them daily. Though the orders were issued in Seong's name, the Guardian never once appeared at the execution grounds. Instead, Ryang presided over the grim proceedings, wielding the authority of the Mirror of the Guardian.
The unease that had taken root in Hyangdo following Nahmgyo's defection rapidly mutated into sheer terror. Shortly after a battered lieutenant from Dongrahng arrived to deliver the tragic news before collapsing from exhaustion, Seong issued an order to release Lahn's younger brother. The young boy, barely eleven years old, succeeded his sister to become the lord of a city he could no longer return to. Upon regaining consciousness, the lieutenant clung to the young lord in the guesthouse courtyard, weeping bitterly. His wails mingled with the agonizing cries of those writhing in the dirt, mourning the severed heads of their executed family.
The story of the Dongrahng citizens who had barely escaped the brutal battle and subsequent pillaging spread through the city, growing increasingly exaggerated with each retelling. Within half a day, Ryang ordered that the refugees be accepted but strictly quarantined. While the fierce resistance of Dongrahng and the unyielding spirit of Lahn brought a heavy sorrow to the hearts of the soldiers and citizens, and many burned with fury at Soyeol's atrocities, they needed hope for that righteous indignation to overcome their fear. Yet, Hyangdo's only hopes, Seong and Yeong, remained in seclusion amidst the desperate preparations for battle.
After issuing his instructions, Ryang continued reading his documents for a moment longer before rising from his seat. He donned his outer robe and began adjusting his attire. Joon stood watching silently, but just as Ryang reached for his hat, he asked abruptly.
"Will you be overseeing the executions personally again today?"
"Yes. Go ahead and prepare the grounds."
Joon offered a brief bow and turned to leave. He opened the door, only to close it again, turning back to look at Ryang. Ryang still did not meet his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, Joon called out.
"High Councilor."
When Ryang didn't respond, Joon raised his voice.
"Brother."
Only then did Ryang lift his gaze to look at him. Joon, his eyes heavy with sorrow, pleaded.
"Please, don't do this."
A sharp tension tightened around Ryang's eyes. He delivered a cold reprimand.
"Even if it is just the two of us, as the High Commander, you speak out of turn."
"They're like brothers to us," Joon continued his impassioned plea. "We survived the pitch darkness of Wicheong together, clinging to Sahngjon's prophecy. We fought side by side, risking our lives in the waters off Nahmgyo. These are the very men who spent all summer preparing for the mainland landing, placing their hopes in the Guardian. I know their fathers, their grandfathers, even their children by face. The enemy isn't even here yet, but the number of our own men's heads displayed in the courtyard grows every day... Do you have any idea how it feels to watch that? Is the man standing before me really the brother I grew up with my entire life?"
Despite Joon's desperate appeal, Ryang remained entirely unmoved.
"If they were as precious as brothers to you," he countered. "you should have maintained stricter discipline to prevent this from happening in the first place. Military law does not bend. Deserters face execution."
Having struck down his own beloved, Dara, with his own hands, Ryang harbored a terrifying conviction that every soul in the Wi army must bear that same absolute, unyielding standard. In Ryang's vacant, frozen stare, Joon could see the jagged ruins of a shattered heart. He wanted to scream—to ask if Ryang truly expected everyone else to live and die with a heart as hollowed out as his own. But faced with the impenetrable frost in Ryang's eyes, Joon's pity and resentment found no voice. Instead, he took a step closer to Ryang and offered one final plea.
"If you show them mercy, they will repent. Moved by your grace, they will serve with even greater loyalty. We are in a situation where every archer and spearman counts."
"They deserted to save their own lives," Ryang countered coldly. "Once the battle begins and panic sets in, they are more than capable of turning against us as enemies. Do you intend to let the city crumble from the inside?"
Neither emotional appeals nor logic could breach Ryang's stubborn resolve. As Joon stood frozen, unable to leave, Ryang dismissed him with a final command.
"Go."
After dismissing Joon, Ryang finished adjusting his attire and strode out to the execution grounds. The proceedings were swift. Under Ryang's command, Joon read aloud the decree bearing the Guardian's seal. The moment he finished, the deserters' heads fell. Day after day, as the blades severed the soldiers' frail necks, a phantom vibration traveled up the hilt and into Ryang's arm—a sickening echo of the moment he had struck down Dara. He would silently swallow his shudder, his gaze morbidly locked on the spurting crimson of the severed flesh. Only when the bleeding ceased and the severed heads were collected did he turn away, leaving the fresh, grisly trophies to be hoisted in the courtyard.
The previous night, under the cover of the deserters' doomed flight, Dae-Sung's supply ships had quietly returned to Dong'gyeong. Fearing panic within the walls, Ryang had requested a midnight departure, to which Ryucheon had offered no objection. On his way back from the execution grounds, Ryang crossed paths with Ryucheon. Having spent the night awake at the harbor, Ryucheon had bloodshot eyes, the skin beneath them shadowed with fatigue. Ryang approached him, offering a curt nod.
"You look fatigued," Ryang noted. "Did the fleet depart safely?"
Ryucheon nodded slowly. "They merely took back the men they brought, so there was little danger to speak of. Barring an unseasonable storm on their return, the voyage should be flawless."
"And when do you intend to depart?"
A faint, amused smile touched Ryucheon's lips. "Were you worried I might slip away in the dead of night, wedged among the cargo?"
Ryang frowned slightly, offering no reply.
"I will return on the vessel that brought me," Ryucheon continued smoothly. "There are citizens of Dae-Sung currently fleeing Nahmgyo for Hyangdo. Fortunately, Cheon Hwan granted a window for withdrawal, allowing most merchants to escape on their ships. However, I have received word of stragglers. I shall wait two more days, gather them, and depart on the final ship. I must bring back at least one commendable deed to excuse myself from this utter disaster, wouldn't you agree?"
Having heard what he needed, Ryang walked past Ryucheon. He hadn't taken more than a few steps when Ryucheon called out behind him.
"By the way, I have a request. Please arrange an audience with the Guardian before I depart."
Ryang halted and turned slowly, his gaze narrowing with sharp suspicion. "You are washing your hands of this island. For what purpose do you seek an audience?"
"Though this may not be our war, slipping away without a word after resting in his shade for an entire season would tarnish Dae-Sung's honor. Even if I must leave, I should at least offer my formal farewells."
Amidst the mounting tension within Hyangdo, Ryucheon alone seemed entirely at ease. His 'farewell' would undoubtedly serve as a formal declaration of Sung withdrawing its support. Ryang found the prospect repulsive. Yet, to refuse the audience would be to degrade Seong to a leader deemed unworthy of even a formal parting from a foreign envoy. If Wi somehow emerged victorious, the tides could turn again, and they would still need Ryucheon. Suppressing a bitter surge of resentment, Ryang conceded.
"I shall arrange it."
As they moved to pass one another, this time it was Ryang who paused.
"I haven't seen you with my sister much these past few days," he observed.
Ryucheon received the remark with his back still turned. In truth, Seon was deliberately keeping her distance from Ryucheon in public as they prepared her escape to Dong'gyeong. They exchanged plans and intelligence solely through covert letters, while the family wealth she painstakingly siphoned was quietly accumulating in a hidden location designated by Ryucheon. Though the city was in chaos bracing for a siege, Ryang's eyes were sharp; he had likely detected the subtle anomalies in his sister's behavior. Yet, whether he remained genuinely ignorant of her true intentions or was simply in denial, Ryucheon could not tell. Either way, Ryang was a tragically devoted brother.
Without denying Ryang's observation, Ryucheon offered a response laced with feigned melancholy.
"Why would she spare a moment for a departing barbarian?"
A bitter smile touched Ryucheon's lips as he walked away with unhurried steps.
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Ever since the siege preparations began, Seong had waited for Ryang in the administrative compound each morning. Ryang arrived only after the pale blue chill of dawn had fully lifted. Seong received Ryang, who entered with a formal bow, and listened to his routine report with unwavering composure.
Ryang sought to clearly remind Seong of his role in the impending siege, reiterating the details several times. Standing at the vanguard to rally the allies and incinerate the advancing enemy—that was his burden to bear, wielding the power bestowed by Sahngjon. Though Hwan possessed the same power, Seong held the distinct advantage of Hyangdo's formidable walls. The city's forces had no need to march out, while the Soyeol army was forced to advance into the open. The moment they drew near, they would inevitably be consumed by Seong's flames.
However, if the Soyeol forces concentrated their artillery fire to neutralize Seong, he could easily be buried beneath the rubble of the shattered walls. Thus, the primary concern for Ryang and the command lay in devising the optimal strategy to disrupt Soyeol's bombardment and shield Seong while he decimated the infantry. The abundant munitions and armaments already supplied by Sung would serve as a critical defense. Though the Wi forces also had Yeong, the Guardian Crimson, she could not withstand a barrage of arrows and cannon fire as Seong could. Ryang dared not voice the grim reality that Yeong, too, must be prepared to fall in this battle.
Seong had no words to add to Ryang's meticulous efforts in tightening the city's defenses. Yet, he noticed a crucial omission in the report. He did not interrupt, choosing to listen in silence. Only after concluding his prepared briefing did Ryang add, "Baek Ryucheon has requested an audience before his departure. He stated that, as a foreign envoy, he must offer his formal farewells."
Though it was an uncomfortable request, Seong offered a brief nod. "Do so. Bring him to me tomorrow, past noon."
"I shall."
The briefing concluded, yet Seong's unwavering, quiet gaze kept Ryang rooted to his seat. Sensing the unease, Ryang was about to speak when Seong asked, "How is the morale of the soldiers?"
"They think of nothing but victory," Ryang replied without hesitation.
A cold chill settled in Seong's chest at the immediate reply. To see the ever-loyal Ryang now attempting to blind and deafen his own lord brought forth a sudden surge of unnamable emotion—a suffocating blend of disappointment, anger, and guilt. It was a deception he could not simply overlook. He looked directly at Ryang and pointed out the truth.
"The number of deserters is growing. You are executing them daily, Brother. This is hardly a situation where they think of nothing but victory."