Last Dance (The True Finale) - 5
After Giwang presented the qilin and Do-cheol to me, the once-serene rear garden of the palace brimmed with life.
Kiriring, kiriring!
Kr-khuh-eung!
Whenever their eyes met, the qilin and Do-cheol would roar at each other. Everyone knew they were beasts brought by Giwang, but no one suspected they were one of the Four Auspicious Beasts and one of the Four Evils. As a result, their cries echoed through the rear garden every day. Even Do-cheol, who could speak human words, busied itself making ordinary beastly noises during fights with the qilin. Those roars were probably meant as threats and shows of dominance.
In any case, aside from sleeping and eating times, the two clashed constantly.
Mu-uuu-uuu.
Kiriring...
Kr-heung...
Each time, Mu would emerge from the lake to mediate their squabbles. It was a wondrous sight. The qilin was an auspicious beast, Do-cheol an evil one—both beings worthy of awe and fear from other creatures. Yet even they fell silent like lambs before Mu, the divine beast.
'It seems the divine beasts outrank the auspicious and evil ones.'
I watched the hierarchy of mythical beings from the pavilion above. Perhaps it was only natural. No auspicious beast, no ferocious one, could fail to bow before a god. And Mu was the supreme among the divine beasts, the Black Tortoise.
'Thanks to Grandfather, you've made some good friends.'
But Mu never lorded over the qilin or Do-cheol. Perhaps after decades alone in the palace lake, it had grown lonely. It treated the pair with gentle warmth. For a divine beast like Mu, only fellow auspicious and evil beasts were fitting company. It wouldn't want to rough up its hard-won friends.
Mu-uuu-uuu.
Kiriring.
Kr-khueung.
Once Mu vanished back into the lake, the qilin and Do-cheol glared at each other before turning away in opposite directions. In about an hour or so, they'd clash again. Mu would rise once more to intervene.
'Such small bodies, yet so fierce.'
I couldn't help but chuckle. Though their sizes matched or were smaller than the dogs kept by common folk, their bravery rivaled tigers'. Mythical beings were different, indeed.
Kiring!
Hearing my laughter, the qilin leaped from below straight up to the pavilion in one bound.
Kiririring~
It rubbed its face against my leg, showing affection. Even a noble auspicious beast felt gratitude toward the human who cared for it.
'An auspicious beast acting cute with a human...'
"You come up here too."
Hung.
Do-cheol snorted softly but climbed up anyway, as if resigned. Seeing the supposedly evil beast so docile only underscored Mu's immense stature. Mu respected me, so Do-cheol did too. A truly fortunate and grateful turn of events.
Had the late Emperor not discovered Mu in Beiping, or had Mu not chosen to live with him, would this have been possible? If only the qilin and Do-cheol had been in this rear garden, what chaos would have ensued?
'A fight without a mediator.'
It wouldn't have ended until one killed the other. The garden would have become a graveyard for qilin or Do-cheol. Neither outcome was welcome.
"Your Majesty."
"Hm?"
I was stroking the qilin and Do-cheol on either side when a familiar voice made me turn.
"Grand Tutor?"
"This humble servant Lee Seon-jang pays respects to His Majesty the Emperor."
There at the distant entrance stood the Grand Tutor, bowing deeply. How had such an elderly man come all this way? He could have sent word through the Geum-ui-wi Ji-hwi-sa if there was business.
"Grand Tutor, your health is frail—why come here? What if you strain yourself and something happens?"
"Worry not, Your Majesty. Though this servant bears an aged body, he has strength enough to behold Your Majesty."
I hurried to him, and the Grand Tutor straightened with a laugh. His words offered no comfort.
The Grand Tutor was a scholar who hadn't trained in martial arts. Unlike the robust Iseongwangs, he was an old man who could depart this world at any moment. Every action demanded caution.
"Besides, if something should befall this servant, these spirit beasts would hold his soul a while longer. Fortunately, it seems he won't pass in Your Majesty's presence."
"Grand Tutor."
"My apologies. In his dotage, this servant spouts nothing but dull jests."
I sighed at his continual chuckling. If only he'd consider how his listener felt. Each mention of death sent chills down my spine.
Kiriring.
"Oh my! It feels like five years have been added to my lifespan!"
The qilin licked the Grand Tutor's robes, prompting even greater laughter from him. Yes, please—let it add five years, ten even.
"But Grand Tutor, what brings you all this way?"
"Ah. On my way here, Jwa Do-eosa shared some intriguing news. She's quite busy, so this servant comes in her stead to report to Your Majesty."
"Intriguing news?"
"It concerns the Jwa-cheom Do-eosa."
At those words, the qilin and Do-cheol stared blankly at the Grand Tutor.
"They say he holds the plaque of Seokgosan Academy."
"...The plaque?"
The unexpected statement drew an involuntary echo from me.
"There's only one Seokgosan Academy that I know of. Is it that one?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. The very one where Emperor Renzong personally bestowed the name and plaque long ago."
"And the Jwa-cheom Do-eosa retrieved its plaque?"
"Indeed."
"Heh."
The sheer unforeseen nature of it pulled a sigh from me. The Jwa-cheom Do-eosa holding Seokgosan Academy's plaque. Retrieving it without my knowledge. What on earth had happened?
"What exactly transpired?"
At my question, the Grand Tutor handed over the scroll he held. A thoughtful gesture—better to see for oneself than hear secondhand. I silently thanked him for bringing the document along with his person, then unrolled it.
[Account of the academy's manifold misdeeds, defying teachings, scorning the people...]
'Worthy of confiscation.'
I rerolled the scroll the moment I saw Seokgosan Academy's atrocities. I couldn't even begin to know where to start criticizing. But one thing was clear: they no longer deserved academy status.
'Confucians denying the teachings themselves.'
I pressed my forehead at the absurdity, not even a bitter laugh escaping. What were Confucians? Those advancing toward sagehood through learning, guiding the people toward enlightenment. No—guiding was the wrong word. How could fellow learners presume to lead? Confucians merely walked a step ahead, aiding the people in smoother pursuit of knowledge.
Yet these so-called Confucians hadn't nurtured the people but scorned them. They spurned the teachings and denied the people's awakening.
'The audacity.'
They weren't fit to be called Confucians. Scoundrels who mocked Emperor Renzong's benevolence.
...
'A tricky matter.'
My outrage at Seokgosan Academy's corruption was short-lived. The fact that the Jwa-cheom Do-eosa had already taken the plaque left me in a bind. Had he reported first, I'd have gladly ordered its removal. But he'd acted then reported. Same result, different process.
No matter that it was centuries old—a plaque bestowed by the Emperor, arbitrarily taken by a subordinate. Punishment was due.
'I must address the offense, yet...'
I didn't want to shackle the Jwa-cheom Do-eosa over this. Preparations were already underway to promote him to Right Censor-in-Chief.
"The Jwa-cheom Do-eosa must be in a tough spot himself."
'Hm?'
Sensing my dilemma, the Grand Tutor spoke obliquely.
"Spirit beasts are heaven-sent. If one dislodged Seokgosan Academy's plaque, it must be heaven's will—like a natural disaster crumbling an old sign in a gale. No matter the care, a centuries-old plaque could fall in strong winds, no?"
"You're right, Grand Tutor."
I blinked at first, then grasped his intent.
"The Jwa-cheom Do-eosa merely holds the fallen plaque temporarily. Until it can be rehung at Seokgosan Academy."
"Precisely, Your Majesty. Not just anyone can hold a plaque bestowed by the Emperor. The Jwa-cheom Do-eosa keeps it safe in the interim."
I chuckled at the Grand Tutor stroking his beard with a hearty laugh. It was an obvious excuse to anyone listening. But such excuses could smooth over the Jwa-cheom Do-eosa's actions. He was worth it.
"Then we'll express regret to Seokgosan Academy over the plaque's 'retrieval' and leave it at that."
"Your Majesty, 'retrieval' sounds too deliberate. 'Relocation' would be more apt."
"Relocation."
The plausible phrasing had me nodding. Retrieval implied intent; relocation suggested happenstance.
No matter that there was no blood tie between Northern Song and our Great Song, the Northern Song emperors were nominally our predecessors. Emperor Renzong, who granted Seokgosan Academy its plaque, was an ancestor of the current throne. Arbitrarily removing an ancestor's bestowed plaque? Even with cause, punishment was inevitable.
Had I been slated for promotion, it would be canceled; otherwise, demotion was certain.
The people's rage and tears reached heaven, summoning a spirit beast. Thus, Seokgosan Academy's plaque fell to earth by heaven's will—and the will of the departed Emperor Renzong.
'What?'
But what was this? Why a bland acknowledgment instead of punishment?
The Jwa-cheom Do-eosa's efforts in bearing heaven's will are greatly appreciated.
And why words of praise to boot?
The plaque shall temporarily relocate from Seokgosan to Kaepyeong. Jwa-cheom Do-eosa, return with it.
The Central Plains were truly complex and bizarre.