Great Yuan Mongol Empire - 3
Unlike the debates at the imperial court, this assembly decree came down so abruptly, without any prior signs, that it took considerable time for all the summoned parties to gather.
In the meantime, I tried asking Grandfather what the decree was about, but he said, "It's a grave matter, but not one for you to shoulder, Un. Focus on your duties as Deputy Censor-in-Chief as usual. This is for old men like me."
"Still, it doesn't seem like an ordinary affair—"
"That's exactly why it's not for you to worry about."
I had no choice but to back down in the face of Grandfather's ironclad resolve. It was hard to understand. Kings, dukes, marquises, earls, and high-ranking central officials from every ministry—the nation's top leaders had all been summoned, yet a vice-ministerial official like me wasn't supposed to concern himself? What did that even mean?
But Grandfather wasn't one to joke around or lie. If he said that, there must be a reason.
In the end, I'll only find out on the day itself.
It was regrettable, but it seemed I'd need to hear the Emperor's words directly on the day of the assembly to grasp the full situation. I would have preferred knowing the agenda in advance to prepare.
Of course, there were ways to approach other kings or the Censor-in-Chiefs instead of Grandfather. I might be a mere vice-ministerial upstart not yet thirty, not exactly a master of intelligence, but my connections were different. They were sharper than anyone when it came to information.
But asking them when I lived with the Iron Throne King himself? Anyone could see Grandfather was deliberately keeping silent. Who else would speak up in that situation?
Please let it be nothing serious. Even I knew it was a shameless wish, but I prayed sincerely. With the already insane lineup assembled, the odds of it being trivial were slim, but still—I hoped for something as uneventful and quiet as possible. Just like Grandfather said, nothing for me to shoulder or fret over, so I could go on slaving away at the Dochalwon as usual.
I've only just become a father-to-be.
My precious child, nestled in Yi Yeon-i's womb. My child, due in about nine months. In times like these, daily prayers weren't enough.
I couldn't let some unforeseen mess drag me down.
"...Buong-i."
- Buooo?
"You've run enough. Wanna go play with Yeon-i?"
- Buooo!
Thinking of the child naturally led my steps toward where Yi Yeon-i was, with Buong-i—who'd been diligently dieting today—trotting alongside.
Time to stop now.
Buong-i came scampering over at my suggestion to play with Yeon-i. As I scooped him up, I felt the weight he had before temporarily lending him to Ryeong-i. Good job, my Buong-i. After all that running, you've finally succeeded in your diet. Your master is overjoyed.
I only hoped the assembly decree would pass as joyfully as the happiness Buong-i brought me.
They say you get disappointed precisely because you expect something. I've never understood that more viscerally than now. I'd harbored futile hopes, and now I felt disappointment I didn't need to.
"The Mongols have begun stirring once more."
In Taehwa Hall, where the summoned had gathered, the Emperor descended and, after receiving the triple cheers of long life from his subjects, cut straight to the matter.
Damn it.
And it was the mind-reeling matter of Mongol unrest, at that. I couldn't help shutting my eyes tight.
We'd already clashed with the Mongols in small skirmishes at Jiayu Pass, and a strike force centered on Yangyang Wang had torched the western grasslands. So it wasn't unusual for the Mongols to make their unwelcome presence felt.
But this was the imperial palace. The Emperor had assembled Daesong's leadership, and the Emperor himself had uttered the word "Mongol." This was no minor disturbance.
Full-scale war.
It had to be unrest on the level of all-out war. The foes who'd only loitered near the northern border were likely mobilizing southward in force. Nothing less could explain this.
The Emperor wouldn't intervene personally for mere border skirmishes.
"A few days ago, hundreds of beasts rampaged at Shanhaiguan and Guyongguan. The soldiers of Habuk routinely conduct beast subjugations to protect the people. This is no natural occurrence."
The ministers began murmuring at the Emperor's addendum.
Hundreds of beasts in unrest. In another region, it might be dismissed as bad luck. The Central Plains were vast, with many untouched wilds, and beasts sometimes spilled out when populations overflowed.
But this was Habuk. Key border strongholds: Shanhaiguan and Guyongguan. Unrest there couldn't be natural—and beasts pointed straight to the Mongols.
"Thus, I deem this the Mongols' doing, and conclude that the northern barbarians, silent for decades, now target the Central Plains once more."
The murmurs died instantly at his calm, resolute declaration.
Decades had passed since the Supreme Ancestor drove out the Mongols and unified the realm. Some founding merits had passed like him, but many survived hale. Most ministers here, save a few, were of the founding generation who'd fought the Mongols.
The Emperor's words had pressed the deep-buried panic button in their hearts.
"Your Majesty! Decades have passed since the Supreme Ancestor achieved his great cause! Under his and Your Majesty's wise, benevolent rule, Daesong has prospered! This is proof heaven favors our Daesong!"
"Indeed, Your Majesty! Heaven's will and the awe of all things under it turn to you—how dare those savage, rude northern barbarians target Daesong! A truly lamentable tragedy!"
"Those who lost heaven's mandate through tyranny now eye the Central Plains again—a folly beyond ignorance, born of greed!"
"Grant us your command, Your Majesty! We shall sever the barbarians' heads and lay them at your feet!"
And so, Taehwa Hall, briefly silent, filled with the founding generation's furious denunciations.
Of course, most were likely showy displays of loyalty, comforting an Emperor facing foreign strife in the second generation since founding. No one who'd risen this high acted on raw emotion without reason.
Yet even rational outrage held real anger. Those who'd fought the Mongols had endured their rule over the Central Plains, suffered direct or indirect harm. No kind feelings lingered.
"Enough."
The Emperor's low voice amid the fervor brought silence anew.
"I know your loyalties and resolves. Your noble intent to shield the people from those vile northerners is commendable."
With that, the Emperor rose, as if surveying all the ministers here—and the realm itself.
"War is a horrific act that spills blood and tears without regard for victor or vanquished. The victor's blood may be filled from the vanquished's, but tears once flowed into the Yellow River cannot be reclaimed."
The merits bowed wordlessly. They'd shed more such blood and tears than any.
"Yet begging peace from a foe with sword drawn demands even more blood and tears. We know better than any how hollow is peace cried without strength."
I nearly nodded instinctively but held back. The Zhao Song—nominal predecessors in Daesong's history—came to mind. Northern and Southern Song hadn't been militarily feeble, yet they'd strangely faltered abroad. Maintaining "peace" through tribute. The result? A glorious trio of defeats: Khitan, Jurchen, Mongol.
"As heaven's son and father to the people, I shall not beg false peace. I will kneel the unteachable barbarians by rightful force, preserving peace with the Central Plains' might. That is the path for the people."
"Long live the Emperor! For Daesong's prosperity and peace!"
Grandfather, who had bowed, rose and cried long life. Among those gathered, he and Ak Wang were the eldest and highest. With Grandfather responding on behalf of the ministers, conflict with the Mongols was all but sealed.
"Long live the Emperor! Long live Daesong!"
"Long life, long life, long long life! For Daesong's prosperity and peace!"
The ministers' triple cheers shook Taehwa Hall. Assembling the leadership took long; resolving on war took mere moments by comparison.
Is it natural, since war is inevitable?
I too cried long life, sighing inwardly. We weren't striking first; the Mongols had kicked up hell at the border. Even if we cried peace, war was unavoidable. This response was right. For an inevitable war, unify the leadership's will for resolute action. Half-measures would burden the people alone.
At the Emperor's war declaration, merits and ministers shifted to emergency footing.
The Mongols, thrashed like dogs in the Supreme Ancestor's day and fled north of the Long Wall, had once been a realm-spanning superpower. Two of the world's top three masters slain, yet Koke Temur—outstripping most of Daesong's Twelve Great Masters in experience—lived. Every soldier, every grain must be managed meticulously, resolve steeled. Even a unified Central Plains dynasty crumbled to careless northern nomads.
"Were you much surprised?"
Back at Giwangjeo after the assembly, Grandfather quietly spoke.
"I was surprised, but it's what must be done for the greater good, is it not?"
"Yes. Your words are right. War should be avoided if possible, but when unavoidable, it must be won. That is for the greater good."
With that, Grandfather silently gazed at the rear garden pond.
"Un-a. Remember what I said? This is grave, but not for you to shoulder."
"Ah, yes. I remember."
"Keep it etched in your heart. The war with those Mongol bastards is the old generation's fate—mine and such—not for you young ones."
"Grandfather."
As I moved to argue, he gently shook his head.
"We who stained our hands with blood did so for our children and grandchildren. How could we now demand your sacrifice? We who failed to finish the Mongols utterly—it falls to us."
His gentle yet unyielding words left me speechless. I sensed it was his conviction, his unbreakable line.