How to Get to Danamo
Pregnant. Well, it would have been stranger if she weren't...
"I never expected to become a father this quickly, though."
"But what do we do? Doesn't this mean we can't go to Danamo?"
"Ah. Right. There's that problem."
The Emperor of the Korean Empire spent a fixed season each year at the summer palace in Harbin and another at the winter palace in Danamo.
Truth be told, neither place was a proper summer or winter retreat. Harbin was brutally cold in winter, yet its summers were only marginally cooler than Seoul's—if that. Danamo's winters were not freezing, but they were hardly warm either. The very emperor who first ordered the secondary palace built in Harbin had, after visiting it himself one summer, left a note of regret in the official chronicles.
In the twenty-first century, of course, cutting-edge climate control—developed in this world, too, by Carrier—meant that Harbin, Seoul, or Danamo all felt equally cool in summer and warm in winter. Moving the household to a secondary palace was never really about escaping heat or cold.
The relocation functioned more like a royal progress. By staying for a time in the empire's great northern and southern cities—places with large minority populations—the throne reminded those regions that they, too, belonged to the Korean Empire. In the early modern era, when the empire was still an absolute monarchy, the emperor's physical presence had also carried practical weight: certain northern and southern affairs could only be settled once the imperial seal was nearby.
These days the real point is more that the imperial family clears out so Gyeongbokgung can be opened to the public.
Unlike the Republic of Korea, here in the Korean Empire the five great palaces of Joseon—Gyeongbokgung, Changdeokgung, Changgyeonggung, Deoksugung, and Gyeonghuigung—were private imperial property. This Gyeongbokgung had never burned during the Imjin War, so its sheer scale made the version in the other Korea look almost apologetic. There were still halls whose original purpose even I had never learned, rooms I had never set foot in.
The other palaces had been repeatedly renovated and expanded until virtually the whole of Jongno District was packed with the mansions of the Gyeonghwa Sajok and the palace complexes themselves. Beyond that stood only small shops; high-rises were forbidden by height restrictions.
Leaving such an enormous historical-cultural precinct closed to the people year-round felt wrong, so whenever the imperial family was away the grounds were opened to visitors. Conveniently, the periods when the family left Gyeongbokgung coincided with summer and winter holidays—perfect for drawing crowds.
The Palace Household Agency staff had therefore already spent weeks preparing for the move to the Danamo secondary palace... only for a pregnancy to appear out of nowhere.
"When did you find out?"
"Only a few days ago myself."
"We'll have to put off going to the Danamo palace, then."
Flying before the stable period was something to avoid, after all.
"Hmm... Do we really have to? I'd still like to see the Danamo winter palace. We never even had a proper honeymoon. Russia was more of a visit to my parents' home, if you think about it."
"But the only way to reach Danamo without flying is by ship... Ah. Come to think of it, there is a ship."
The imperial vessel Gwangmu-ho. These days air travel was the norm, yet in the mid-to-late twentieth century more conservative members of the imperial family had still refused to trust airplanes, relying solely on rail and sea. That was how the ship had earned the nickname "Palace on the Sea."
Still... when had it last been used? Had the Gwangmu-ho even moved once in the twenty-first century?
Well. First I would announce the good news; the logistics of getting to Danamo could be sorted out somehow. That was what the Palace Household Agency was for.
"His Majesty intends to board the Gwangmu-ho?"
"Yes."
"Surely there are other options? It isn't as if this country has no ships that sail to Danamo."
Captain Shin Won-ho of the Gwangmu-ho already knew from the news that the Empress was pregnant, and he had gathered that Their Majesties had no intention of canceling the Danamo trip. What he had never expected was that they would choose the Gwangmu-ho itself. He had assumed they would simply charter some luxury cruise liner.
"Her Majesty heard about the Gwangmu-ho and expressed a wish to sail on her..."
"Good heavens. I never thought I'd see the day."
Shin scratched the back of his head at the sudden visit from the Palace Household Agency clerk.
"Will it be difficult?"
"She's an imperial ship. The Gwangmu-ho is ready to sail at any time. The problem is crew. Thirty years ago would have been one thing, but most of the people currently assigned to her are maintenance staff. Almost none have actual sailing experience."
Shin himself had last taken the helm twenty years earlier. He had skippered other vessels now and then since then, but never the Gwangmu-ho again.
"Couldn't you bring in people from elsewhere?"
"She's an older vessel. Today's sailors wouldn't know how to handle her properly. Reaching Danamo itself isn't impossible, but whether we could provide a voyage befitting the imperial dignity... that I cannot guarantee."
Simply sailing from Incheon to Taipei was feasible enough. With the entire imperial household aboard, however, the ship would need to avoid rough seas as much as possible, and the service inside would have to match the occasion. Inexperienced hands made that impossible.
"I see. Understood."
The clerk nodded after hearing the explanation.
"Then shall I take it that plans for a Gwangmu-ho voyage are canceled? Even if this year's Danamo trip proves too much, I'll make certain we're ready for proper operation next year."
As captain, Shin would have liked nothing better than to take the ship out, but the safety of Their Majesties—or, depending on one's count, Their three Majesties—came first.
"This is by His Majesty's command. If it is not impossible, we make it possible. Give me three days."
Three days later the same clerk assembled several dozen people in one place.
"These gentlemen are..."
"You know them well, I trust. The former captains and crew of the Gwangmu-ho."
Shin knew them, of course. They had been aboard when he first joined the ship himself.
"Well now, Won-ho, look at you. I still remember when you were the youngest. And here you are, captain already."
"Who'd have thought I'd set foot on the Gwangmu-ho again at this age."
"Danamo, eh? Been a long time since I sailed there."
"Ahem."
While Shin stood dazed at the sight of so many welcome, long-unseen faces, the Palace Household Agency clerk—though by now Shin was no longer certain the man truly belonged to that agency—called the room to order.
"Well? With this company, wouldn't you say it's entirely possible?"
"How long until we sail?"
"Preparations for the move to Danamo will be complete in a month."
"That's enough."
If the old hands and the current staff were all put aboard the Gwangmu-ho, it could be done. The ship was vast enough to hold that many people with room to spare; overcrowding was the least of their worries.
Fortunately, sailing to Danamo aboard the Gwangmu-ho presented no real difficulties. That said, a vessel that had thrived in the twentieth century was bound to feel awkward by twenty-first-century standards. The furniture and interior décor especially struck someone accustomed to modern design as... how to put it...
"It feels like visiting Grandma's house."
"Sophie. At least don't say that in front of the crew. It isn't their fault."
"Fine. I'll revise it to 'it has a certain retro charm.'"
"Yes. Retro."
"By the way, are there any events planned in Danamo?"
"Hmm... There won't be much for us to do there. Given the pregnancy, official appearances will be kept to a minimum as well."
"Really? Then there's something I'd like to do. May I?"
"What is it?"
"A concert. Since the wedding I've only done small charity recitals. This time I'd like to stage something larger, more independent."
"As long as the physician gives permission, that shouldn't be hard. But... do I absolutely have to sit through it with you?"
Frankly, I knew next to nothing about classical music and found it deadly boring, yet I could hardly scroll through my phone while my wife was onstage at the piano. Every recital therefore became a battle against sleep.
"Hmm... Are you turning down the honor of hearing a Russian piano prodigy from a VIP seat? Or were you planning to sneak off and do something else while I played?"
"No, nothing like that."
"I'm joking. Just joking. I already know you have zero interest in classical music—I've caught you nodding off more times than I can count. And if I leave you alone you'll just hole up in the secondary palace writing that novel of yours, won't you, Author?"
"Sophie. You know me far too well..."
The novel had been stuck for a while now. Spending the Danamo stay focused on writing sounded rather appealing.