A Censor's Righteous Reckoning
The Emperor of the Great Song was a man bound by the duty of benevolence and vigilance. He had to oversee all under heaven personally, embracing every subject like his own child. That was the fate and right of one who bore the Mandate of Heaven. It was the legacy bequeathed to him by his august late emperor, the glory seized in the fierce struggle against the Mongol northern bandits.
Thus, even if his own vessel fell short of his predecessor's heel, he must press forward to safeguard that inheritance and honor. Holding court daily in the Hall of No Shadows was part of that endeavor. The late emperor had never wasted even a single shichen for the sake of the realm. How, then, could he—a lesser man—afford any leisure?
Yet, as the daily venue for reports from across the realm, peculiar and intriguing accounts occasionally surfaced.
Your subject Han Un, having been granted the sublime duty of restoring order to the realm by Your Majesty's command, has been filled with inexpressible glory and joy. Yet this subject, tasked with upholding order, has disrupted it; this subject, bound to preserve Your August Ancestor's noble edicts, has failed. How lamentable is this affair!
This ignorant and disloyal wretch humbly beseeches Your Majesty: please punish this subject's incompetence and disloyalty.
Just like this one.
What in the world?
A hollow laugh escaped at the report from the Left Vice Censor-in-Chief, routed through the Censorate. It was odd enough that the censor, who roamed the Central Plains so adeptly, had suddenly begged for punishment. But the reason? Utterly laughable.
'Exposed collusion at the regional level.'
In Guangxi, the southernmost fringe of vast Great Song territory. In Namyeong, its largest city. From the branch manager down to the rank-and-file officials—even the investigating magistrates, the Namyeong Guard commandant tasked with military affairs, and the very inspectors meant to oversee it all—were rotten to the core, in league together.
Unpleasant. Heartbreaking.
How could officials, who should be impartial and devoted solely to the people, be blinded by private gain? How could even the censors, duty-bound to rebuke such corruption, join in?
Yet the Left Vice Censor-in-Chief had felt that same fury. Through his sweeping inspection, Namyeong had been purged. A hideously festering city reborn pristine and beautiful.
'No easy feat.'
Admiration for the flawless handling mingled with pity. Inspections wielded immense authority, shadowed by equally grave responsibility. Even the coldest soul would waver when a single word or gesture spelled death for others.
The censor had conducted such work not on an individual, but across an entire city. Punishing guilty officials was one thing, but his steps had decided the fates of dozens, hundreds. No light matter.
'This should fall to the inspector escorts.'
Truly lamentable. The Left Vice Censor-in-Chief moved to resolve what local censors and officials could not—not to usurp the escorts' duties. What he handled was a problem Namyeong's inspectors should have crushed long ago.
Already burdened by traversing the realm, the censor had shouldered needless weight. As emperor, the tragedy stemmed from failing to appoint proper inspectors—a source of deep regret.
But dwelling on spilled milk was folly. Now, priorities lay in cleaning the censor's blade and tending the corpses.
'To the Ministry of Revenue.'
Thoughts coalesced as he continued the report. Hyang Ga, the rotten heart of Namyeong's vast collusion and corruption. The vile rebel who dared wield money like a whip on officials, obscuring the heavens themselves.
'...Hm?'
The head of Hyang Ga is a criminal, yet his rebuke has shamed this subject. This subject, meant to restore order, led its disruption; bound to act by law, deviated from it. Even to excise great evil, a minister graced by Your Majesty should never commit such outrage.
So peculiar, his eyes lingered on that passage amid deliberations on executing the clan head for defying imperial authority and what to do with the family—
'Rebuke?'
What did this mean? What rebuke from a traitor meekly offering his neck? How could it shame the censor? Baffling.
Of course, the inspection had strayed from protocol somewhat. No request for Namyeong Guard cooperation—instead, direct orders. No evidence before arrests—suspects seized first, proof after.
But unavoidable. With the commandant colluding, how cooperate? With branch and inspectors silent, how gather proof?
Thus, even the emperor overlooked the procedural breach.
'The criminal... talked back?'
Yet the saga's villain, facing punishment, had dared speak out. Insulting the censor's necessary resolve. Incomprehensible.
So ashamed I could not claim to be Your Majesty's minister. Thus, I set aside my badge and punished the head privately—but reflection reveals I improperly invoked the name of crown prince of Giwangga. This ignorant, disloyal subject has erred repeatedly.
"Hah."
Intrigue deepened; his torso leaned forward unbidden.
Rebuked by the clan head for illegality, the censor shed his official mantle. Showed the wretch, bloated on family wealth and crimes, true lineage power. Neatly done.
Proved to the blood-proud upstart an even nobler bloodline existed.
As a repeated offender, I dare not lift my head; yet punishing as crown prince after shedding office would be base evasion via Giwangga's name. Thus, raising my badge anew, as Left Vice Censor-in-Chief Han Un, I beg: punish this disloyal wretch.
Then, having punished as crown prince, he donned the official name once more.
'Fits as Grandfather's eldest grandson.'
An eccentricity no ordinary man could conceive, let alone execute—laughter bubbled up. The censor was indeed Giwang's grandson, heir to Han Jung. And how fitting. An unparalleled feat, yet branded 'Giwang's grandson,' it seemed 'Of course.'
Giwang's name justified any eccentricity.
'What to do with this.'
He set the report aside, pondering. How respond to the censor's ceaseless self-pleas?
First, the clan head's outburst merited no debate. A loyalist who bent rules tearfully for realm's order. Far from justifying, he'd shunned shame, even briefly relinquishing office. Punishing such? Absurd. Praise fell short.
Furious at official graft, grieved for people's suffering. How ignore such excellence?
'A true Confucian scholar too.'
Satisfaction swelled. Giwang—a Hwagyeong master—had sired a grandson prizing scholarship above all. No warlord quelling chaos, but a civil servant soothing good governance. Joyous.
'Clean execution for the head.'
Decided. The clan head deserved death, but unveiling the censor's true mettle earned merit. Not life-sparing, but worth intact corpse.
Family: judge crimes' severity over blanket execution; confiscate wealth for Namyeong stability.
And the censor?
'Upon return to Kaepyeong, appoint Right Vice Censor-in-Chief.'
Already planned, but this sealed it. Yet with his guilt, some light punishment befitted—for his own sake.
'Grandfather will handle it.'
Leave discipline to Giwangga. Punishing as crown prince demanded Giwang's reckoning, not the emperor's.
After leisurely meeting Okjin-i and returning to Giwangjeo, a missive arrived from the Hall of No Shadows.
"Hahaha!"
The emperor's personal letter. Curious, he checked at once—its contents drew involuntary laughter.
Our eldest grandson, uncovering vast collusion and rot in Namyeong. Judging normal means futile, he eradicated the filth radically—proud grandson.
A clueless criminal challenged his path; as Giwangga crown prince, not official, he thrashed the fool—refreshingly bold grandson.
"Truly our grandson! Splendidly grown!"
Uncontainable delight erupted in laughter. Unleashing fury when needed—a vital life truth. Un learned it well.
Yes, a real man needed such traits. Sword or brush, rage at injustice, crush evil with might!
"Seems Father's blood flows in Un after all."
"Indeed! Whose grandson is he!"
He nodded eagerly at his son's words.
'And no deaths amid the upheaval.'
Thrilling as his fire was, greater joy lay in reason sparing lives city-wide. He inspected only, delegating punishment to officials. Eyes bloodshot with rage, yet respecting roles.
'Fury for the people, respect for bureaucracy.'
Paired with action—matchless official in Great Song.
"...Can't stand it."
Off to boast to Ak Hyeon-i at once.