"We came in such haste that we had little time to prepare.
From among the sable pelts we obtained last winter, we selected only the finest ones—the darkest, with the richest sheen.
Fortunately, we had secured a good number of them, so we brought as many as we could. With Your Majesty's permission, I would also like to distribute some among your ministers.
I hoped that this small token of sincerity might lend weight to our appeal in this difficult hour."
O Geolmae spoke without hesitation, though another man might have been embarrassed to say such a thing aloud.
It was a gift plainly offered in expectation of favor, yet he made no attempt to hide it.
At the mention that the pelts would be shared among the ministers, the expressions around the hall changed.
Sable.
And black sable at that.
It was fur of the highest quality.
The attendants carried the pelts forward and unfolded several for display.
A dark sheen flowed across the fur as though along rippling water.
From ancient times, black sable had been prized above all other pelts. Its color was deep, its hairs fine, and when stroked by hand, the fur lay down like a wave before rising softly again.
The king said,
"Do so."
The attendants began distributing the sable pelts among the ministers gathered in the great hall.
The atmosphere changed at once.
Faces that only moments before had been calculating the burden of war and the measure of provisions gradually softened as the ministers looked down at the black fur placed in their hands.
They could already imagine how delighted their wives would be when they carried such gifts home.
Amid a low stir, the pelts were handed out one by one.
Even then, some still remained.
O Geolmae offered another formal bow.
"These have been prepared for the royal household.
We have also brought wild ginseng and medicinal herbs from our country, carefully processed and prepared.
Please accept them as another small expression of our sincerity."
The king smiled readily.
"Heh. This may sound shameless of me, but have you brought any ginseng for my ministers as well?"
O Geolmae lowered himself apologetically.
"Your Majesty, we traveled in great haste and could not carry a great quantity.
With your permission, I shall have more sent afterward."
The king laughed loudly.
"Ha-ha! Then I shall be grateful."
O Geolmae gestured toward a chest set apart for the royal household.
"That is what we call heavenly wild ginseng. Its medicinal potency is said to be exceptional.
People say it can make even a dying old man leap to his feet."
The king's eyes brightened.
"Oh? Is that truly so?"
"I wished above all to present it to Your Majesty.
I should have offered it sooner, but recent troubles denied me the opportunity."
The king shook his head.
"I received what you sent previously through Commander Yi. One of my royal consorts had been in poor health, and thanks to it, she recovered."
Gifts passed between the two sides.
At a gesture from the king, an enormous number of books were carried in from one side of the hall.
Each chest was neatly wrapped, and fresh black ink stood out clearly along the edges of the volumes.
The king said,
"It is a copy of the Buddhist Canon. I have only now managed to prepare what I spoke of before. I ordered it printed in haste, in the hope that it might help your people overcome this national calamity."
O Geolmae's eyes widened.
"Such a precious gift…"
He immediately prostrated himself upon the floor.
His bow was so deep that his forehead nearly touched the bricks.
After rising, he pressed his palms together toward the Buddhist Canon.
O Geolmae approached the books with great care.
His hand stopped just before his fingertips touched them.
The hand of a warrior who had ridden across countless leagues became as cautious as a child's.
He gently touched the edge of one volume and breathed in the scent of new paper and fresh ink.
Soon his eyes reddened.
The Buddhist Canon was less a collection of books than a prayer printed by an entire nation.
The scripture scrolls were arranged in sets within low wooden chests, each bound with clean silk cords.
When the lids were opened, the scent of new paper and ink rose quietly into the hall.
The freshly printed characters were dark and beautiful, each one resting sharply and evenly upon the page.
For a time, O Geolmae could find no words.
The preparations for war he knew consisted of horses, armor, arrows, and grain.
Yet Goryeo was not a kingdom that endured war through weapons alone.
In the military camps, bows and armor were repaired.
In the granaries, provisions were counted.
And within the palace, the teachings of the Buddha were printed so that the hearts of the people would not scatter.
Those countless characters were not sharp like spearpoints, yet they contained the will of a nation engraving its resolve to endure fear.
When he turned a page, the thin paper rustled beneath his fingers.
The ink still seemed alive, and at the end of every stroke remained the firm pressure of the carved woodblock.
The same characters continued across countless lines, yet not one line appeared slight.
The words of the Buddha formed lines, the lines formed pages, and the pages rose together like a mountain.
O Geolmae brought his hands together of their own accord.
Even a man accustomed to raising a sword from horseback could only lower his steps before so many sacred texts.
Within them lay Goryeo's wealth, the hands of its craftsmen, the chanting of its monks, and the king's will to preserve his nation.
This was not merely a collection of books.
It was a great vow offered by an entire kingdom in the face of national calamity.
The king spoke quietly.
"It carries the wish that, through the grace of the Buddha, your people may overcome this crisis."
O Geolmae bowed deeply once more.
"Your Majesty's grace is immeasurable."
The remaining matters were settled quickly.
The king ordered the Privy Council to prepare twenty thousand troops from the New Army and make them ready to march at once.
O Geolmae, in turn, pledged to provide horses.
He promised several thousand mounts seized from the great horse pastures of the northeastern plains.
At the time, Goryeo could mobilize roughly sixty thousand soldiers.
To send one-third of them was no small decision.
The greatest concerns were cost and supply.
Part of the burden would be met by the two frontier regions, while Jin would provide support once the army crossed the border.
Jin also agreed to supply grain, fodder, and any additional winter clothing required by the expeditionary force.
Third, the king ordered that a declaration of war be drafted at once and sent to Liao.
He remarked that there could be little difficulty in writing a single sheet of paper and commanded the officials to prepare the text immediately.
The Ministry of Rites drafted the document, and the Secretariat-Chancellery reviewed its wording.
Every character addressed to Liao might become the point of a blade, so the language had to be forceful while its justification remained clear.
Liao had long used the broad plains and riverlands around Huanglong Prefecture, Ham Prefecture, and Ningjiang Prefecture as major sources of military horses.
These were not enclosed ranches built in the Central Plains style.
They were vast grazing grounds stretching along rivers, marshes, gentle hills, and open grasslands, where herds were allowed to roam.
The horse pastures were not mere facilities attached to a single city.
They formed an entire military supply system linking tribes, garrisons, relay stations, and storehouses.
In spring and summer, the herds moved along the waters in search of fresh grass.
When autumn deepened, the strongest and fattest horses were selected and sent to the military camps.
Those who tended them were not limited to Khitan herders.
There were Xi tribesmen, Balhae-descended households, Jurchen villagers, Han administrators, and soldiers.
Liao's rule over the northeast rested not only upon walls and officials, but also upon horse herds, fodder, men who cut grass, and the roads along which the animals were driven.
For Jin to seize those lands meant far more than gaining several thousand horses.
It severed one of the most important pillars sustaining Liao's ability to continue the war.
Without military horses, reconnaissance slowed, orders arrived late, and defeated troops lost the means to regroup.
Jin, by contrast, could mount newly submitted soldiers, increase the speed of its expeditionary forces, and even provide horses to allied troops such as the Goryeo army.
The mounts O Geolmae had promised were no ordinary spoils of war.
Across the broad plains between Huanglong Prefecture and Ham Prefecture stretched the herds upon which Liao had long depended.
Fences and shelters stood wherever the grass was rich along the rivers and marshes, while Khitan herders, Balhae-descended households, and Jurchen villagers cared for the horses.
Whenever war began, those animals were sent directly to the army for reconnaissance, communication, and the replenishment of cavalry units.
Once Jin seized the horse pastures, the balance of power shifted.
Liao's horses became Jin's horses.
The very mounts that had carried Liao soldiers only yesterday would now bear Jin's warriors and move the Goryeo expeditionary force.
The thousands of horses O Geolmae pledged were not merely a gift.
They were a portion of the military strength torn away from Liao's dominion over the northeast.