War Is Inevitable
War was inevitable anyway. The place where the Crown Prince and Jang Yong-sil had taken me last time was officially called Cheongya-so. "Cheong" for blue and "ya" for field, so "Blue Field"—but its real name was Gimu-yeong. "Gi" for machinery, "mu" for weapons. They named it for handling machines and weapons, but it was so straightforward I wasn't sure why they bothered keeping it secret. Anyway, as my Hanyang trip neared its end and preparations to head back down south ramped up, the Crown Prince summoned me amid the bustle. Not to Gyeongbok Palace like usual, but to Gimu-yeong.
"Why'd you call me here, Your Highness?"
Cheongya-so wasn't a total lie. The grounds did have fields inside the facility. They were just shooting ranges.
"No reason. Just wanted you to fire off some rounds nice and proper before you go."
The Crown Prince said it casually, with a field the size of a school playground stretching out before us. It was only because the others—everyone below me in rank—were waiting way off in the distance that he could act so relaxed.
"I see."
I gave a vague reply and glanced down at the table in front of him. The table, wide as a bed, was laid out with guns I'd seen in the warehouse last time... and some I hadn't.
"This one's slated for issue around the time you graduate from the Mugwa Academy. Give it a feel."
I picked up the jochong he'd pointed to and checked it over. No real difference from mine. If anything, it had a bayonet mount, a proper buttstock, and a different firing mechanism.
A standard jochong used a lit match cord pressed to the pan to ignite. But this one had a hammer like a flintlock instead of a match holder, and a pierced nipple instead of a pan.
"How do you fire this?"
"It's a percussion cap musket. You stick a percussion cap on that nipple and fire. Otherwise, same as a regular jochong. Load it up."
I followed his instructions and loaded the jochong without protest.
"But you're really leaving now?"
The Crown Prince asked midway through the loading process.
"You got everything done in Hanyang?"
"Yes. All done."
As I loaded, I recalled what I'd accomplished in Hanyang. Meeting the Crown Prince and the other modern reincarnates, paying respects to King-God-General-Emperor Sejong the Great, spotting the coup-plotting Prince Suyang... I'd done all the fun stuff the capital had to offer.
"Stick around a bit longer instead of going now. Something big's coming soon."
He handed me what he called a percussion cap—smaller than a pinky nail—and went on. I took it, examined it from all angles, fitted it to the nipple, and replied.
"No can do. Mugwa entrance exams are coming up, so I have to head back."
"Still... Ah, but you memorized the exam questions I gave you, right?"
"They'll really come straight from those?"
"Yup. Here, watch. Lemme do an 'eh... eh.'"
"Ugh, come on. Don't do that, Your Highness."
I scowled as he tried pulling that mom-joke again. Luckily, like last time, it fizzled harmlessly.
"Go on, fire it."
"Alright. Close your eyes. It might sting a little."
"Nah, not me. Shoot at the target over there."
He chuckled at my joke and pointed to the field. A target stood about 100 meters away.
"Haaa, fuuuu..."
I took a deep breath, assumed a standing firing stance. The buttstock made shouldering and aiming way more comfortable. The rest was straightforward. I aligned the sights, steadied my breathing, and gently squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
"Ooh."
Unlike a matchlock, it fired instantly. My ears rang from the report, but my lips curled into a grin anyway.
"Nice shot. Set that down. Try this one next."
I placed the jochong—still trailing white smoke from the muzzle—back on the table and picked up the revolver pistol beside it. He'd already explained what it was.
"This is a yuk-hyeol gwonjochong. Modeled after the Remington M1858 revolver. Pricey, so only officers and up—no enlisted or NCOs."
"Like the modern Korean military?"
"Exactly. Line infantry tactics don't call for privates packing pistols much anyway. Give it a feel."
I was already holding the revolver pistol, inspecting it before he finished. Hard to tear my eyes from that glossy black finish. The grip molded perfectly to my hand, its subtle heft stirring a man's heart.
"Ease back the hammer a bit. Not all the way—just a bit."
Click.
"Like this?"
"Yeah. That rotates the cylinder."
Clack-clack.
"Ooooh."
The sound of the cylinder turning was like a clock's tick. The Crown Prince grinned like a kid and continued explaining.
"Want one? I'll hook you up after Mugwa Academy graduation."
"You said it'd be issued to officers. But how do you reload this?"
"Oh, that? See the lever under the barrel? Pull it, and a loading rod with a latch pops out. Pull that, and the cylinder separates for quick reload."
Clunk!
"Whoa."
It separated easier than expected, and I dropped the cylinder assembly. I snatched it before it hit the ground and reassembled in reverse.
"L-like this?"
"Yeah, good. Now, for reloading..."
He picked up a similar but shorter-barreled gun and demonstrated the process himself. I followed along as we chatted.
"But what was that 'big thing' you mentioned earlier?"
"Spoilers—I can't say. Oh, right. You get your cheonggi yet?"
"Yes. I'll take it when I head home."
"Good. Keep it as a souvenir. Oh, and your autograph book?"
"Got 'em all."
With Sejong's seal already in hand, my greed kicked in. So I hunted down signatures from Crown Prince Munjong right next to me, down to Danjong (maybe?), Prince Suyang, Grand General Kim Jong-seo, Han Myeong-hoe, and more. Pretty much anyone notable. Of course, I'd gotten all the modern reincarnates' ahead of time too.
The only regret...
"How come no Jang Yong-sil seal?"
"You think? He's probably rotting in his coffin by now. Want a bone?"
"Huh? Can I?"
"No. Think before you speak."
"You're the one who brought it up."
Jang Yong-sil. Sejong's star scientist. He'd passed from old age last year, leaving a gap in my collection.
"What a shame. Such talent, if only he'd been born a bit later."
The Crown Prince smiled bitterly, reminiscing about a man I never knew.
"Could've used him more."
Not reminiscing—regretting.
"Si-jin. You'll live long, right?"
"Nah, short and intense for me."
"Really?"
Click!
"Wha—what the hell?! You psycho?!"
Not just aiming the loaded gun—he'd cocked the hammer too. A curse burst out as I instinctively dropped low.
"Ahahaha! Sorry! Whoa, whoa! It's fine! No need to come over!"
My swearing must've carried; the underlings started rushing in. The Crown Prince laughed his ass off, waving them off before apologizing to me.
"Hahaha! That scary, huh?"
"Wouldn't it be for you?! Nearly died!"
"Got it, got it. Sorry. My bad."
"Do that one more time and I'll...!"
I couldn't finish the threat. He was the Crown Prince, after all. It stayed a thought.
"Haha, alright. Let's shoot."
"...Yes, sir."
To vent the stress, I gripped the gun two-handed and aimed dead ahead. The Crown Prince fired first, and I joined in.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The six shots fired in rapid succession, the reports nonstop. White smoke billowed from the muzzle, soon whitening my view.
"Cough cough!"
"Ugh! That's why black powder..."
"No smokeless powder?"
"Can't. Too expensive. Cough! Working on it, though."
I set the now-empty revolver on the table and walked aside with the Crown Prince, coughing. Another table held the jochong Jang Yong-sil had personally loaded and demo'd for me.
"Cough! This is the Chun-ya jochong. Based on the Springfield M1873."
"Chun-ya... 'chun' for spring, 'ya' for field?"
"Yup."
"Name's kinda lazy, no?"
"Springfield put effort into theirs? And this... hang-ri bullet. From Henry ammo. 'Hang' to rule, 'ri' for li—rules everything within a li."
"You shoehorn well."
"Wasn't me. Jang Yong-sil."
I picked up a hang-ri—or Henry—round. Unlike the beer-bottle-shaped 5.56mm casings, this was nearly cylindrical.
"Can I try?"
"Go for it."
He nodded, eyeing me like why ask? I set the ammo down, hefted the Chun-ya jochong.
"Tilt the hammer back a bit, lift the lever by the chamber—the breech opens."
As instructed, it swung open like a hinged door, revealing a round hole. I pushed in a round. Perfect fit.
"Wanted bolt-action originally, but this mod's quicker and cheaper. Keep the stock body, tweak the lock and barrel—done. Right?"
True enough. No major diffs from my jochong overall. Understanding his point, I shouldered it. Something I wanted to test, so no real aiming—I just pulled the trigger.
BANG!
Fired on ignition, white smoke erupting. No different from the percussion cap musket, but this Chun-ya reloaded in 5 seconds flat.
BANG! ...BANG! ...BANG!
Three more in succession, and my vision went hazy white. Setting down the Chun-ya, I realized why I'd felt uneasy all along.
"You're really going to war?"
The yuk-hyeol gwonjochong, the Chun-ya... Nothing like a standard jochong that took a full minute per shot. Unless the power gap was massive, the war's outcome was obvious.
"Yeah. Have to."
He nodded with the same expression as before.
"...!"
Dizzy, I leaned on the table. After a few seconds, I asked, half-hoping.
"No way to avoid it?"
"Nope. Dangun picked a crap spot. Left: China. Right: Japan. Imjin War. Manchu Invasion. Sino-Japanese War. Colonial rule. You know."
"Those haven't happened yet."
"True. Even Imjin is 150 years off. But look at this stuff."
He gestured to the guns we'd fired... and those we hadn't. But I knew he meant more than guns.
"We've leapfrogged centuries. China, Japan, Mongolia—they're a century behind at best. Big advances always bring war. History major perk."
He smirked and shifted aside. There sat a machine gun with a canvas belt. Gripping its handles, he continued.
"War's inevitable. Might as well not lose. You know what losing means."
"..."
"Come on, give the trigger a pull. Name TBD. Maxim and M1917 mashup. Black powder, but short recoil makes it decent."
He stepped aside, yielding the gunner spot. I took position behind it, grips in hand.
"Load it. Grab the cocking handle, yank hard, release."
"Like this? Hup!"
Clunk, cha-chunk!
The heavy metallic clank thrilled deep. Couldn't help grinning—man's instinct.
"Now pull."
Finger on the trigger took real resolve. But I slipped it in, bit down, and squeezed.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Two rounds per second, nonstop while I held. Vision hazing over—I couldn't tell hits, but maybe on the battlefield, not seeing was mercy.
"Whew! Cough cough!"
Figured I'd seen enough and released. Coughing through the smoke, I looked to the Crown Prince.
He wasn't looking at me. No coughs. Just staring where I'd fired.
As I finished packing to leave, news spread through Hanyang: the king was yielding the throne to the Crown Prince.