262.
A Council under the Shadow of War — The King and His Ministers, and the Question of Intervention in Yuan's Civil Strife
The day after the rain ceased, the stone floor of the palace still held its dampness.
A chill rose from the ground and clutched at the ankles.
On days like this, the scent of war always lingered.
When the doors of the grand hall opened and the king took his seat, the ministers bowed as one.
Yi In-jung stood at the fore, with scholars of the Hall of Worthies and officials civil and military arrayed on either side.
The tip of the recorder's brush trembled faintly upon the paper.
The king's first words were brief.
"An envoy has arrived from Dadu."
Silence fell.
It was what all had expected, yet the weight of hearing it spoken was different.
"They ask once more for troops."
The king's voice was low, but a restrained anger ran beneath it.
"Last time, they ordered a withdrawal on the brink of victory.
They placed our army before them like a shield of flesh.
And now they ask us again to aid them."
The air in the hall congealed.
Yi In-jung stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, in the previous campaign, our supply lines and discipline were entirely under the empire's generals.
We held no command of tactics.
That is why our losses were so great.
We fought, yet could not fight as we ought."
The king nodded.
"Which is why this time we must be clear.
If we fight, we fight by our own will.
We hold operational command and act independently.
Otherwise, we refuse."
The Chief Scholar of the Hall of Worthies, Yu Gye-chung, lifted his head with care.
"Your Majesty, to demand command is to touch the authority of the empire.
An army dispatched in the name of the Great Khan that asks for control—
they will deem it rebellion."
Yi In-jung answered at once.
"Then let me ask in return.
Is the blood of our people lighter than rebellion?"
A murmur swept the chamber.
"That is a difficult way to put it."
"Difficult, yet true.
In the last battle, hundreds did not return.
For their deaths, the empire offered not a single line of apology."
No one could easily continue.
Then one minister spoke cautiously.
"If the commander of Hwaju enters the field, victory is certain.
But if even he is bound by another's orders, the result will be the same as before."
The king spoke quietly.
"He is young.
But his purpose is clear.
The victory of Hwaju proves it."
After a moment's silence, the king rose from the throne and drew aside the screen before him.
Behind it hung a great map of the continent—
Liaodong, Shimju, Hwaju, Liaoyang, and Dadu.
Red marks were scattered across it.
"Those places are burning."
The king's finger rested on the hills of Liaodong.
"We stand where the empire collapses.
What they want is not our swords.
They want our submission.
They expect us to bow in silence."
Again, silence descended upon the hall.
The king's voice hardened.
"Therefore, make the court's will plain.
There is no battle without command.
If our operational authority is not guaranteed,
we will not march—no matter the pretext."
Yi In-jung dropped to his knees.
"I receive the Sacred Command."
That night, long after the council had ended, the king remained alone in the audience chamber.
The lamp guttered, its flame flickering as though drawing short breaths.
The king murmured softly.
"When the empire falls, who will call us a nation?
If Goryeo is no more than an imitation of the empire, who will recognize us?
This moment is as precarious as a lamp before the wind.
In the end… will it be those Red Turban bands who rule the world?"
Outside, raindrops began to fall again.
They slowly darkened the palace stones, opening the heavy, deep gate of a new age.
The Fury of Dadu — The Empress's Resolve Erupts at the Heart of the Empire
The previous winter in Dadu had been unusually long.
The sky pressed low, and the wind cut the flesh like ice.
That day, a cold untouched by season filled the imperial hall.
The Empress sat upon her seat beneath violet drapery.
Before her knelt the envoys returned from Goryeo, their strength dried up by days of snow and strain.
Her gaze passed over them one by one.
"So."
Her voice resonated softly.
"You mean they refused to dispatch troops."
The envoy pressed his forehead to the floor.
"Your Majesty, they attached conditions.
The Goryeo court declared it cannot send forces unless independent operational command is guaranteed.
They cited the losses of the previous campaign, saying the cause lay in the absence of such authority."
Before the words were finished, the Empress flung a jade cup.
Crash—
Cold fragrance scattered across the floor from the shattered vessel.
"Command?"
Her eyes sharpened.
"What is this thing, that they dare defy the empire's order for it?"
The air froze.
The Empress rose and walked slowly.
The hem of her violet silk brushed the floor, her shadow stretching long across the golden marble.
"They seem to have forgotten who set that king upon his throne."
Her gaze pierced the envoy.
"Goryeo was land of the empire.
That king was a vassal of Yuan.
And now they speak of autonomy and command—
from whose mouth did such words come?"
The envoy trembled.
"It was the Grand General Yi In-jung.
The man who raised Park Seongjin, the commander of Hwaju."
After a moment's hesitation, he added,
"All Goryeo generals who took part in the Jiangnan expedition say the same—
'We cannot fight as we did before.'"
The Empress's eyes narrowed.
"They took issue with that battle?"
"Yes. The battle of Gowu.
Just as the walls were breached and the city about to fall, an order to withdraw was given.
Only the Goryeo troops were left behind and fought on alone.
Provincial governors, hungry for merit, withdrew their forces.
Toqto'a consented.
The Goryeo army nearly perished."
"And yet they survived."
"Yes… because that Park Seongjin killed the soldier who sounded the retreat.
He struck down the man waving the banner,
and cut the mouth of those who spoke of withdrawal.
That is how they lived."
A faint smile touched the Empress's lips.
She spoke softly.
"Indeed. And Toqto'a was stripped of command, exiled, and died."
The envoy bowed even lower.
"Goryeo says it received no recompense for that affair."
The Empress fell silent for a moment.
Then she slowly repeated the names.
"Yi In-jung.
Park Seongjin."
She lifted her hand, as if sweeping aside a veil.
"Summon the Shadow Guard."
From the edges of the hall, shadows seeped forth—
black robes, veiled faces.
The remnants of the Shadow Guard, directly under the Empress's command.
One among them, Sa-ye, knelt.
"Command us, Your Majesty."
Her voice was low, colder than marble.
"The king of Goryeo cannot be touched.
But the hand that moves him can be severed."
Sa-ye asked carefully,
"…Park Seongjin?"
"Yes."
Her tone was absolute.
"He moves Hwaju, and Hwaju has become the core of Goryeo."
She looked out the window.
Snow fell without sound.
"The Great Khan's realm is shaking.
At times like this, what is needed is not negotiation,
but blood that reminds the world of order."
That night, from the tower of the imperial palace, a single black falcon took flight.
A sealed message was bound to its leg.
— Shadow Guard, proceed to Hwaju.
As the falcon vanished into the night sky, the Empress closed her eyes and whispered,
"The continent is mine.
I will not allow even the kingdom at its edge to step beyond my shadow."