The King's Surrender
The Plains Lord was dead, yet his name still wandered through the hearts of scholars across the realm. Su Dai’s hands trembled as he carefully picked up the seal I had set on the floor. He brought it close to his face, studying it with intense focus, and the emotion that crossed his features was on an entirely different scale from anything he had shown before.
“It’s genuine… Truly… My lord has…”
The fact that Su Dai had switched from calling me Lord Changseong to simply “my lord” revealed the depth of his shock. “I was told the Plains Lord’s seal was buried with his remains by his children…”
He muttered in hollow disbelief at the gap between public declaration and reality, then turned to me with a question in his eyes. “And did you not sever ties with the Plains Lord?”
On the surface, yes. Our relationship had been cut over the conflict regarding the treatment of the righteous. But when has the world ever consisted solely of what it shows on the outside? I reminded him that the truth before us was the real one.
“A stone jutting from the earth is still only part of the larger rock.”
“Yet this time that protruding stone turned out to be nothing but a clod of dirt.”
Su Dai extended his hand to return the seal. I accepted it with proper courtesy, slipped it back into my robes, and tucked it away securely. He closed his eyes, sinking into thought. Low groans escaped him; his fingers stroked his beard again and again as he pondered. Only after a long while did his eyes open once more.
“My lord, do you truly desire friendship with Zhao?”
“Of course. Lord Su, you chose silence because you saw His Majesty ignore the Prime Minister and Lord Changguo’s pleas and force the war with Zhao, concluding that all hope was lost. Am I wrong?”
“You are not. At the time I believed the Yan-Zhao alliance had lost every last chance.”
Yet by great fortune, Yan and Zhao had ended the war without inflicting catastrophic damage on each other. For Yan it had been a humiliating treaty that permitted Xiongnu raids deep into our territory—an injury to our pride and little else—but room for reconciliation with Zhao still remained. That was why Su Dai had emerged from his long seclusion. He had thrown his support behind Prince Ancha, a blood relative of Zhao’s royal house, as the next heir to the throne.
Su Dai had calculated that I, having endured bitter years as a hostage in Zhao, would be hostile toward them, while Prince Ancha’s blood ties would make him friendly. But who was the one who genuinely sought friendship with Zhao? Was it Prince Ancha, who had remained silent even as the King of Yan declared his intent to attack Zhao? Or was it—
“Who do you believe made that war end the way it did?”
Me. The one who brought it to an early close.
“Ah… Indeed, I did find it strange. The Lian Po I know would never have played so purely defensive against a man like Lü Fu.”
Su Dai nodded with an expression that said he was beyond surprise, then exhaled a heavy sigh. “If that was the case, I wish you had revealed it sooner. I have already dragged His Majesty into this.”
He spoke with bitter self-mockery, as though he had committed an irreversible blunder. But had I truly observed the situation so passively without anticipating even that much? From the moment I returned from my life as a hostage and was enfeoffed not as Crown Prince but as Lord Changseong, I had regarded the King of Yan—not Prince Ancha—as my true rival.
“It doesn’t matter.”
The King of Yan resents me? I understand. Power is not something one shares even with one’s own children, they say. Nothing threatens a ruler’s authority more than being forced to accept a successor against his will. So he must understand that I, too, am doing things he will dislike.
“I have already secured the position of Crown Prince for myself.”
No matter how much he is king, once the entire military stands behind me there is no other choice. Jin Kai, Ji Xin, Yue Jian, Guo Wu… and now Su Dai as well. Even a king cannot suppress such a combination with his present authority alone.
“Hah… If it isn’t Yue Jian, then the last one must be Ji Xin. Well, of course. You even recruited Lian Po. There was a time when I persuaded Fan Sui of Qin to topple Bai Qi, yet it seems I have turned my back on the world for too long.”
It wasn’t that Su Dai had grown rusty. He had simply made the optimal decision given the conditions presented to him. As Guo Wu’s standing grew through his battlefield achievements, the prince’s faction had expanded naturally. In the beginning the royal prince’s faction had been at a disadvantage. But once Su Dai entered the fray, balance was restored in an instant, and until I drew Yue Jian in, the royal prince’s side had held the upper hand. Seeing Su Dai reverse the situation despite the favorable conditions Guo Wu enjoyed, his ability clearly remained undiminished. He had simply refrained from touching the military in order to avoid provoking active intervention from the King of Yan, who was hostile to Zhao. Unlike him, who had chosen the safe and certain path, I had sought from the very beginning to obtain influence that surpassed the king himself. Perhaps today’s outcome was the natural result of our differing aims.
“My lord already possesses every condition needed to achieve your goal. Why, then, did you seek me out? If you were merely concerned about turmoil within the royal prince’s faction, you could have used the military to purge them outright.”
“That is not so. I still need your help, Lord Su. Need? I desperately require it.”
“Can this old subject truly be of use to you?”
“Without question.”
Su Dai’s talents were indeed among the finest in the world, yet what mattered more to me was the path he had walked throughout his life.
“What I desire is not merely friendship with Zhao, but a grand alliance that goes beyond it.”
Su Dai’s eyes filled completely with wonder.
The court assembly convened.
It was a historic crossroads that would decide the successor to the throne. The two candidates—myself and Prince Ancha—stood side by side at the center of the great hall. Strangely, both factions supporting us wore expressions of confident triumph, as though each was certain of its own victory. It did not feel like mere bravado to avoid losing a battle of nerves. They genuinely believed they held the upper hand in this political struggle.
Their confidence gave me pause for a moment, but when the King of Yan entered and the assembly began in earnest, they lowered their heads and swept the needless doubt from their minds.
“Lord Changseong and Prince Ancha. Raise your heads.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Though we were uncle and nephew, the age gap between us was not large. Prince Ancha was in his early twenties; I was fifteen this year. We could have passed for brothers born late to the same father. That was why Prince Ancha had also been named a candidate for the succession.
“It has been six years since I ascended the throne, yet I have still not designated an heir. Many ministers have voiced their concern. When the hundred officials each petition that the noble they support be made successor, how can I not commend their heartfelt concern for the fate of the nation?”
The King of Yan spoke as though he would immediately name a successor and enfeoff him as Crown Prince, but words must be heard to the end. What followed was the complete opposite.
“However, I remain in good health and fully capable of governing state affairs. I am still young enough to undertake new endeavors. Therefore, hastily designating an heir cannot be considered entirely wise.”
Mixed emotions began to surface on the faces of the officials gathered for the assembly. Those who supported me felt anxiety creeping in at the strange turn of events, while those backing Prince Ancha inwardly rejoiced that events were unfolding according to their plan.
“Thus, the matter of the succession requires further time and careful consideration. It shall be decided only after thorough discussion and an assessment of the realm’s public sentiment. Let this be known.”
A delaying tactic. Since they were at a disadvantage anyway, they would drag the king in, overturn the board, and wait for another chance. It was not ideal, yet far from the worst outcome. For those who had been driven to the brink, this could be counted as a victory.
Yet neither side could claim certain victory or defeat. Because my face—the one who should have felt the greatest dismay—remained bright. My calm acceptance, as though I had expected this all along, gave the prince’s faction hope that I might possess yet another hidden card, and planted inexplicable anxiety in the royal prince’s faction.
In the midst of this tension, the memorials sent up from the provinces began to echo one by one throughout the court. And as the stream of petitions gradually thinned, the expressions on both sides underwent yet another reversal.
I earnestly petition that Lord Changseong be made the foundation of the state so that the realm may be stabilized.
— Supreme General Jin Kai
“Is this truly from Jin Kai?”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”
The hall buzzed at the opinion Jin Kai had expressed to the central court after decades of silence. The King of Yan slammed his fist on the throne in irritation.
“Enough! All of you, compose yourselves! What is this uproar before me? Tsk. Prime Minister, read the next memorial.”
Prime Minister Zhang Ju calmly picked up the next petition and unfolded it. Yet as he read, his voice began to tremble.
I humbly advise that you enfeoff Lord Changseong as Crown Prince, thereby calming the unrest among the people and strengthening the roots of the nation.
— Grand General Ji Xin
The Supreme General, highest seat in the military, and the Grand General who followed nearly equal in rank. Both had stepped forward to support one man. This could not be dismissed lightly. Moreover, the King of Yan had always been susceptible to influence and placed his own safety above all else. That he had launched a war on Lü Fu’s word alone, and that he had hastily signed a treaty with Zhao the moment the Xiongnu appeared, were both consequences of that nature. To such a king, the fact that the military’s core figures—Jin Kai, Ji Xin, Yue Jian—had all united behind one person was an enormous threat. Especially since he knew the secret history of his grandfather’s generation, when a younger brother had killed the elder to seize the throne. The realization that his own son had taken control of the army filled him with sudden terror.
Other memorials poured in from across the provinces, most urging that I be made Crown Prince. Ji Xin’s support after sweeping away the Xiongnu, Jin Kai’s support after conquering and developing the eastern territories including Liaodong, and the quiet positive propaganda spread by the Mubi Merchant Group had caused local sentiment to tilt overwhelmingly in my favor.
The King of Yan finally understood. Without his knowledge, his son had already surpassed him.
“…I shall reply to the memorials.”
His voice, heavy with emptiness and exhaustion, echoed through the great hall.
I hereby enfeoff Prince Ji Dan as Crown Prince.
It was, in effect, the King of Yan’s declaration of surrender to me.
