Chapter 103. The Council of Generals (Jungbang) — 1
The Jungbang (重房) was a deliberative body in Goryeo composed of the commanders of the Two Armies and Six Guards—senior generals (Sangjanggun) and generals (Daejanggun).
Its exact date of establishment is unclear, though it is believed to date to the reign of King Hyeonjong.
It consisted of eight senior generals and eight generals, for a total of sixteen.
The senior general of the Eungyang Army was called the Banju (班主) and served as its head.
The Jungbang stood near the royal palace in Kaegyeong.
It faced the Munhaseong, the civil administrative center, yet it was of a different nature.
It was a practical space where warriors came and went, and even at night the lights never went out.
For Yeong-u, who had risen from a mere palace archer to stand here, his heart was far from at ease.
He had seen too much—too much that sat poorly with him.
He began to question whether continuing as a soldier was the right path.
The moment he stepped through the doors, what struck him first was the heavy scent of iron and oil.
The pillars were thick and low, the space stripped of ornament.
Instead of the painted splendor of palace halls, there were marks of use—hands, scabbards, scratches worn into the wood.
Spears, blades, and armor leaned carelessly along one wall.
The floor was not polished but worn down by countless passing boots.
Voices were not loud.
Yet even a low word seemed to cut through the air.
Laughter, when it came, was brief—and always followed by a silence that measured the other.
Most wore armor, or bore its imprint on their bodies.
Broad shoulders, calloused hands, eyes that moved constantly between a man's throat and his hands.
There was hierarchy here—
not written, but proven through strength and deeds.
Even deep into the night, the lamps were not extinguished.
Though within the palace, it was a world apart—
a place where force spoke louder than words.
Yeong-u stood before the eighteen men seated within.
"Sir! Yi Yeong-u, Nangjang and commander of the Jurchen expedition."
Without realizing it, he felt himself shrink.
It was the weight of their presence—the smell of power.
In most organizations, rank divided roles, not ability.
But here, it was different.
There was a force here he could not dare approach lightly.
One wrong word felt as though it might bring steel upon him.
Something unseen tightened around his throat.
The air itself was different.
Though connected to the outside, this was another world entirely.
The Jungbang.
His gaze moved naturally across the room.
Ring-pommel blades resting against the walls, spears left carelessly aside—
and the men who treated them as mere decorations.
A gaze struck him.
No—not one.
From the moment he entered, many eyes had been weighing him.
Height, shoulders, gait, breath—
whether he would survive here, or be broken.
He felt his shoulders tense.
The instinct rose—
yield even a fraction here, and it would be over.
At the far end, where the natural center lay, sat a man.
The moment their eyes met, the weight of the room deepened.
And yet—
the man bore a gentle smile.
Amid the cold, cutting atmosphere, his warmth stood out.
"I hear you've endured much. You came on leave, and yet we've not given you rest—my apologies. The matter is urgent. Bear with us."
Yeong-u said nothing.
In a place like this, any word could be twisted.
It felt as though the military gathered men whose natures bent that way.
He gave only a brief response.
"Sir."
At the very least, he would answer what was spoken to him.
As expected, Lee Huisong was the first to raise his head.
A face that seemed unchanged by time—
a strange smile, yellowed eyes without emotion, a thick, heavy face.
"You recognize me."
He spoke as if his authority were unquestioned—
as though one who had once served under him must forever remain so.
"Yes. I served at Seonchunryeong."
Yeong-u answered as plainly as he could.
Lee's eyes narrowed slightly.
His mouth smiled, but his eyes did not.
There was no truth in that face.
"Much has changed since then. We had been holding off the Jurchen well enough. And then, in a matter of months, they struck Liao and won. How do you explain that?"
The tone demanded an answer.
It stirred a strong resistance within Yeong-u.
A man who had achieved nothing had risen again—
higher, perhaps.
The world did not run on fairness.
More often, it was the opposite.
But how could a man without merit rise again in a world that claimed to value ability?
"They are brave, united, and skilled archers. A strong army."
Lee seemed to have been waiting for that.
"So this strong army had been faltering against Goryeo all this time?"
Yeong-u wanted to say it plainly—
that their battles with Goryeo had not been fights to the death.
They had not committed fully.
Goryeo had.
That was why it had appeared balanced.
"That is not—"
He stopped himself.
The eyes around him sharpened.
He held his ground.
"They were always strong. They were not deeply hostile toward Goryeo. They saw themselves as a branch from the same root. They protested, but they did not wage war to the death."
Lee burst into laughter.
Ordinarily, laughter came from goodwill.
Not his.
His laughter rose from something darker.
"So we bled dearly fighting them, and you claim it was because they held back?"
Yeong-u answered immediately.
"Yes. They regarded Goryeo as a kindred state. They did not intend to destroy it. That is what I have heard."
The phrase what I have heard only fueled his anger.
"You report hearsay here? This is the Jungbang—the last bastion of the state!"
He expected an apology.
Yeong-u did not answer.
He bowed his head.
He had answered the question.
He would not engage further.
At that moment, an elderly general with a kindly face raised his hand.
"That's enough. Must you press a young man fresh from the provinces so hard? His words may be right or wrong—we are here to hear them. We lack information. This is not a place to assign blame."
He was clearly of higher rank.
Lee bowed his head.
"My apologies. He spoke out of turn—"
"Enough. If we had no intention of listening, we would not have called him. You know the north well. Some of us do not. Be silent for a moment."
The tone was gentle, but firm.
"Yes."
The old general turned back to Yeong-u.
"So—they were strong to begin with?"
"Yes."
"And they did not press Goryeo fully before?"
"Yes."
"Then why did they strike Liao?"
"There was an insult at a prior meeting. A young emperor demanded that elder tribal chiefs dance before him."
"That alone does not start a war. There must have been more."
"They were repeatedly forced to provide hunting falcons. And even people were taken. From that point, resentment grew."
The explanation felt insufficient.
War did not come from such things alone.
There had to be something greater.
"Resentment grew… is that how you young men put it?"
"I have been away from home too long."
"How long?"
"Seven years."
A breath passed through the room.
Something was wrong.
No soldier went seven years without leave.
Yeong-u lowered his head.
It was too much.
Too much that he had not gone home—
and too much that the army had left him that way.
"Tsk… why did you do that?"
It was a small reproach—
yet it struck deep.
His chest tightened.
Tears threatened to rise.
He could not bring himself to say
that he had no reason to return home.