Farming Frenzy - 5
I'd never seen the face of a prisoner staring down the execution block, but if I ever did, I imagined it would look a lot like Pojeongsa's. His expression carried the resignation of someone who'd accepted an inescapable fate, mingled with a tangled mix of regret and helplessness over what was to come. His complexion was so wretched it stirred pity in anyone who laid eyes on him.
"Looks like you've got your hands full. With a deathly pallor like that, you'll probably collapse from overwork soon enough."
Even Grandfather felt sorry for him, offering a quiet blessing. Or... was that really a blessing? Coming from the man who'd caused it all, it sounded more like a murder threat. Like he was promising to send Pojeongsa off—either straight-up from exhaustion or disguised as such.
Bad timing on my part.
I gripped my teacup with a wry smile at Grandfather's words. If I'd come to Nanjou alone, Pojeongsa wouldn't have greeted me in such a haggard state. We'd worked together before, had a rough sense of each other's styles, and could swap updates on old times even for official business.
But with Grandfather tagging along? That changed everything. Even if he'd stepped back from his official post (unknown to the family), the title of Giwang, his Hwagyeong mastery, and his status as a first-class founding merit subject still loomed large. For a man like that to show up with his grandson, the Deputy Censor-in-Chief? Especially amid rumors of Mongol schemes wrecking the realm's vital farming?
Even the innocent start imagining crimes they've committed.
To anyone watching, he looked like the grim reaper descending to personally smash the local official. Even if Pojeongsa had handled things by the book or bent rules now and then for flexibility, he'd still tremble, wondering, "Have I committed a capital offense?"
The former meant guilt for not acting fast enough while farmers died; the latter, for flouting the law no matter the crisis. Neither was true, but in Pojeongsa's mind, it might as well have been fact.
"Pojeongsa."
"Speak, Deputy Censor-in-Chief."
Following Grandfather's lead, I ventured to open my mouth.
"By the way, how's that panda Baek-su-mun gave you doing? It hopped onto the cart loaded with bamboo like it owned the place—quite the glutton, that one. I was worried it might pester you too much, especially since it's already so big."
A safe, easy topic for both of us. The panda Baek-su-mun had picked up while gathering bamboo for their beast family, then gifted to Pojeongsa on a whim. Something light and harmless like this could ease his tension a bit. Thankfully, he'd taken a liking to his surprise pet.
Nothing bonds like chatting pets with a fellow owner.
"Th-thankfully, it's doing well. But it's still a wild beast at heart—not the type to eat recklessly without reason."
Something felt off, though. I'd only meant to lighten the mood, but his face paled even further.
What the—?
Now I was flustered. Why? What was wrong with bringing up the panda? It was a comfy subject for us both. And in a spot like this, it signaled I wasn't here to grill him over work. My... intentions were pure.
Oh no.
It hit me late. I'd meant it innocently, but to a man deep in paranoid delusion, it could twist into something sinister.
"Your head's on the chopping block, so get ready for retirement by tending that panda." Or "Farming's ruined, and you're raising a panda? Some official you are."
One or the other—or both. Sure, that level of distortion was artful, but Pojeongsa's mind wasn't right. Like a convict inches from the axe or an old man spotting death at the hospital—nothing would sound normal.
"Yun-ah. Pojeongsa is His Majesty's proxy, shepherding Gansu's people—like their eldest brother. No matter how big or greedy the panda, do you think he can't manage one?"
Even Grandfather—the source of his terror—patted my shoulder in Pojeongsa's defense. Unfair! If not for him, Pojeongsa wouldn't have panicked in the first place. I'd only tried playing good cop as a dutiful grandson, but now Grandfather was the good cop, and I'd become the bad cop twisting the knife.
Damn it.
Pathetic. Outsiders hearing this would think I was some arrogant punk bullying an elder by riding Grandfather's coattails. Sure, Dochalwon officials did smack around other bureaucrats, but going straight at a prefect like this? Rare without major corruption or treason.
Damn it...
Trying to do a good deed, and all I'd earned was infamy.
The little commotion ended with Grandfather defending him, so mercifully, Pojeongsa clawed back from the brink.
The process was weird, but results mattered. Who was good cop or bad cop? Irrelevant...
"It's still holding on by a thread—for now."
Regaining his composure, Pojeongsa began briefing us on Gansu's details.
"Gansu's terrain is harsh, its population sparse, so beast attacks are fewer. More people mean more encounters; more bustle means more damage, right?"
His self-aware assessment left us solemnly silent. No arguing—it was spot-on, which made it all the more tragic.
"That said, we can't gauge how many beasts roam freely inside. When damage hits, it's devastating. Habuk loses hundreds; here, it's tens—but that's huge for us."
"Tragic. Though Nanjou seemed stable enough."
"Nanjou's the heart of Gansu—a major city. Sure, it lags behind other hubs, but many folks sustain themselves beyond farming. And with city walls, beasts barely get close."
Solid logic; I nodded automatically. Urban vs. rural farmer ratios differed, obviously. Nanjou had farmers, but plenty of merchants, artisans, and self-employed too. Easier to spread the risk than in the sticks.
"Plus, Gongdong-pa warriors are dedicating themselves to the people. Nanjou's safety is the one bright spot in all Gansu."
"Mm, I met those young ones. Fine lads, all of them."
Grandfather nodded, stroking his beard, before adding, "So the outskirts beyond Nanjou are screwed."
"...Yes."
He'd voiced the brutal truth we couldn't deny. Claiming Nanjou secure implied the rest wasn't. If all was safe, he'd have said Gansu.
Even in rugged Gansu, cities dotted beyond Nanjou. Patrols covered zones around them, but beyond? No answers for Pojeongsa. Realistically, in this 14th-century backwater with poor roads and comms, ruling every inch was impossible. Even prosperous Habuk couldn't fully defend itself.
"Pojeongsa."
"Yes, my lord."
"If there's anything you haven't mentioned, spill it all."
"M-my lord! How dare a lowly one like me—"
"No misunderstanding. I'm not accusing you of hiding on purpose—just share even the fuzzy, minor details you recall."
Grandfather's clarification visibly relieved Pojeongsa, who'd been inching back to the block. Tone it down with the death march, man. But facing a living legend? Fair enough.
"Why do we call them the common folk? Each one's pitiable and frail—worth our lives to protect. Yet they're resilient in hardship, tenacious as weeds. That's why they endure even when the Central Plains fall to chaos."
"Your words ring true, my lord. The people are frail yet sturdy—ones we guard and uphold."
"So there must be something. If officials can't reach the hinterlands, the folk will have devised their own defenses."
I didn't follow the logic, but Grandfather was dead serious, and Pojeongsa nodded eagerly, inspired. Some 14th-century local vibe they shared, I guess. I knew commoners were tough when united, but proactive fixes in this mess? Doubtful.
"My lord. There's something I haven't reported—the facts aren't verified yet."
"Hm? Not verified?"
"Yes. I only got the report this morning; no cross-checks done."
Pojeongsa fielded all news from his seat. Sorting truth from lies was his duty. Unverified intel? Worthless trash to him. No wonder he hadn't mentioned it.
"Some border farmers, hit hard by beasts, have given up on this year's harvest. In despair, they've started slaughtering their oxen for food."
"What."
"Pardon?"
The tale beggared belief; I blurted a reflexive echo.
"Worse, others figure death by beast or starvation's the same—so they've gone hunting them. No crops left? Meat and hides will fill bellies..."
Now I got why he hadn't spoken up. Rumors like that? I'd hold off till confirmed too.