Hwaseong (6): The Birth of the Jangyongyeong
In the secluded private chamber of Hwaseong's temporary palace, King Jeongjo stared motionless at the military map of the capital spread across his desk. Red markers symbolizing the Training Command, Royal Guard Command, and Capital Guard dotted the map densely, encircling the city.
"This is intolerable," King Jeongjo finally spoke. The flickering candlelight cast his shadow long across the wall.
"Of the Five Armies, three are already under Noron influence—from the Training Command to the Capital Guard, there's no unit untouched by their hands. With thirty thousand troops in the capital in such a state, what need is there to speak of the garrisons across the eight provinces? Even if I issue a royal command, they first glance at the Minister of War and turn their spears at Sim Hwan-ji's mere cough. In truth, the sword of this nation is no longer in my hands, but theirs."
His voice carried deep weariness mingled with bitter anger. It was the solitude of a king who proclaimed himself sovereign of the myriad people yet could not command a single loyal force to protect himself.
King Jeongjo roughly smeared the Training Command marker on the map with his finger and turned to Yi Si-woo.
"They eat my rice stipend yet move like private soldiers of Noron houses. Even if I build Hwaseong and dream of a new Joseon, as long as those blades guard the capital, it will all be but a sandcastle. If my own life is not fully mine, how can I claim responsibility for the lives of the people?"
Yi Si-woo, sensing the weight of those words, stepped forward calmly. He pressed his finger firmly on the empty strategic point south of Hwaseong near the fortress on the map.
"Your Highness, military power ultimately stems from food and weapons. The Noron can command thirty thousand soldiers because they control Joseon's grain lifeline."
Yi Si-woo pulled a dirt-covered potato and a secret Gigi-cheong report from his bosom and placed them on the map.
"Rice is bound by soil and seasons. But the crop I've brought changes that. Once large-scale cultivation of mareongseo—potatoes—and beans takes root in Hwaseong, it will become Joseon's most self-sufficient fortress. Soldiers filled with grain harvested by my own hands will never sell their souls for a powerbroker's coin."
Yi Si-woo unfolded the complex mechanical blueprint on the back of the report.
"Moreover, the Gigi-cheong factories are ready to mass-produce new cannons and matchlocks. Traditional matchlocks are useless in rain and reload too slowly. But the weapons I've designed are different. With twice the range and three times the firing rate, a thousand elites armed with these new guns could wipe out thirty thousand wielding old blades in an instant. Do not be deceived by numbers—they are mere illusion. Wars are now won by technological superiority, not headcount."
King Jeongjo instinctively grasped that a military with food and weapons in hand could not be shaken by anyone.
"You mean to say... establish a new royal shield linking Hanyang and Hwaseong—the Jangyongyeong?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Replace the hollow shells of the Five Armies with a guard loyal solely to your command. And formalize the Jangyongyeong as the standard for all Joseon military divisions—from training to logistics and weaponry. Grant it authority to directly inspect and intervene in any garrison that grows lax or lukewarm to royal orders."
"The Five Armies will eye each other warily, fearing Jangyongyeong audits, and naturally obey its commands. Divisions among them will foster mutual checks. Your Highness will hold their rice bowls and weapons directly. The Gigi-cheong and I will handle their supplies and arms."
A brief silence fell. King Jeongjo pierced Yi Si-woo's resolute gaze, then lightly slammed the desk.
"The Noron won't stand idle. Dividing military power is like cutting their lifeline—they'll bombard you with memorials and vile rumors."
"The harder they oppose, the clearer it becomes why Your Highness needs this force. Those against creating troops to protect the people and safeguard the throne will only confess themselves traitors."
King Jeongjo let out a wry chuckle.
"Your silver tongue still pins me in place with a single phrase. Very well. Select that thousand elites your way—the ones who will become my sword."
The day of the lunar completion festival celebrating Hwaseong's completion dawned under a cloudless sky. Five-colored banners whipped fiercely in the north wind atop the walls, while the markets overflowed with crowds from all eight provinces since morning. The massive walls, erected in just one year thanks to Yi Si-woo's cranes and engineering designs, loomed far more majestic and sturdy than their moonlight silhouette.
From the highest point, Paldalmun pavilion, King Jeongjo surveyed the throngs filling the fortress inside and out. At his side stood Yi Si-woo, Gigi-cheong Director and Royal Library Compiler, clad in crimson court robes.
Composing his swelling heart, King Jeongjo declared:
"Behold! This is the new heart of Joseon, forged together by you and I!"
Cheers erupted from the people. Yi Si-woo, listening beside him, glanced down at the walls. A year ago, this had been a barren reed field.
The Noron ministers, including Sim Hwan-ji in the VIP seats, wore stiff expressions. The wall heights, turret placements—everything differed vastly from the fortresses they knew.
King Jeongjo swept his gaze over them.
"Today, I proclaim Hwaseong complete and decree the creation of the king's direct shield linking this iron fortress to Hanyang—the Jangyongyeong!"
"Jangyongyeong?"
"With the Five Armies already guarding the capital, why another force...!"
The ministers gasped and murmured, but King Jeongjo pressed on.
"The Jangyongyeong wields its blade solely for this nation's people and sovereign—the true elite of Joseon. The trials to select that thousand begin now!"
At his words, Sim Hwan-ji snapped his fan shut and rose.
"Your Highness, I am humbled, but I must speak. With the Five Armies defending the capital, where will the vast funds for a new Jangyongyeong come from? The treasury is already drained from Hwaseong's construction—arming, feeding, and clothing a thousand will cost hundreds of thousands of yang."
Kim Gwi-ju stepped forward, seizing the point.
"Moreover, Your Highness, I have grave concerns. Joseon enjoys peace under the Qing emperor's grace as a tributary. Creating an independent royal guard armed with new weapons could offend him greatly. Should envoys arrive suspecting rebellion, how will Your Highness manage?"
The hall fell silent. Noron ministers exchanged nods—solid rationale and practical pressure.
Yi Si-woo stepped quietly forward.
"The ministers are right. Funds are short, and we must mind the Qing."
A smile tugged at Sim Hwan-ji's lips. But Yi Si-woo's next words shifted.
"Thus, the Gigi-cheong will handle Jangyongyeong supplies. In one year since Hwaseong markets opened, Hwaseong notes in circulation have tripled Suwon region's tax revenue. Gigi-cheong profits come from Hwaseong's economy, not the national treasury—creating new revenue streams. The budget you worry over is already self-sustaining."
Sim Hwan-ji's eyes narrowed. As he opened his mouth again, Yi Si-woo continued.
"As for Qing scrutiny—do you think the emperor forbids a tributary king from having a guard for his own life? That would paint him petty."
Kim Gwi-ju's face hardened. Sim Hwan-ji muttered low, fan in hand.
"This brat..."
"....."
Silence enveloped the VIP seats. King Jeongjo scanned it slowly.
"Any further words, submit as memorials tomorrow. Court is adjourned."
We hereby recruit Jangyongyeong soldiers. Birth and origin matter not. Illiterate? No family? No matter. Any with sturdy bodies, bold spirit, and willingness to learn may apply.
The selected shall receive from the Gigi-cheong food supplies and stipends several times those of existing military divisions.
The next morning, proclamations appeared across the eight provinces. The yangban heirs clutching privileges scoffed, "How can we stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the lowly?" But illegitimate sons stifled by walls, failed martial exam candidates lacking connections despite skill, and street toughs surviving on fists poured into provincial test sites like clouds.
The first round was simple: stamina and archery. Little different from traditional military exams.
Two weeks later, selectees from all provinces gathered at Hwaseong. The final second round was at the drill grounds—but its rigor dwarfed the first.
Yi Si-woo's full-kit march began, screams echoing across the field. After endless hellish runs under heavy loads, over half collapsed, eliminated.
The survivors faced the last trial: matchlock shooting. They received familiar old flintlocks, loading powder, igniting fuses, aiming at targets a hundred paces away.
Bang, bang, bang—!
Gunfire filled the grounds, thunder echoing off walls. Targets a hundred paces out riddled and fell. Acrid powder smoke stung noses.
Applicants' eyes stayed fixed through the haze. Six out of ten shots—that needle's eye decided the survivors.
The trials ended. A thousand dust- and powder-caked men stood arrayed in the drill ground center.
Yi Si-woo stepped before them.
"From today, you are the Jangyongyeong."
At his gesture, waiting Gigi-cheong scholars hauled heavy wooden crates. Lids flung open revealed sleek steel weapons utterly unlike crude matchlocks, gleaming.
Men's eyes widened. Yi Si-woo's design, handcrafted by Gigi-cheong artisans: the Gigi-cheong flintlock rifle.
"From today, these are your weapons—unique in Joseon. I'll teach you myself."
Meeting each gaze, Yi Si-woo drove home the final nail in a booming voice.
"I promise you this: No starvation in the Jangyongyeong. You'll wield arms unmatched in Joseon. What is there to fear for the fed and strong? Serve only His Majesty. Understood?!"
"Yes, sir!"
The thousand roared, the cry carrying far beyond Hwaseong's walls.