Follow Me to the Great Wall - 4
Father's life at Ak Wangjeo instantly became the hottest topic in Kaepyeong.
The crown prince of Giwangga visiting Ak Wangjeo was no issue at all. Grandfather and Ak Wang had been close since the founding war days, and after Daesong's establishment, the two royal houses had built an even tighter bond. The moment Yeon-i and I married, Father became Ak Wangga's in-law. So his visit to his in-laws—especially with war looming and his name on the expedition roster—was met with, "He's just paying respects before heading out."
But then: "He visited, but hasn't come back." Father showed no sign of leaving Ak Wangjeo, and reactions shifted. Rumors swirled: Something must've gone down at Giwangga. Whatever it was, for the crown prince to stay put at Ak Wangjeo, it had to be big.
Unfortunately, those rumors and speculations hit the nail on the head. Something enormous had indeed blown up.
Buoooong!
"That's it. Good boy."
Buooo~
In Ak Wangjeo's rear garden, Father played with Buong-i. For treats from Father's hand, Buong-i prostrated, spun his horn, even reared up on hind legs. It looked utterly peaceful on the surface, but Father's faintly visible back radiated an unmistakable bitterness.
The crown prince exiled from his own palace.
I closed my eyes in somber sympathy. No one could breathe a word of this humiliating plight. A crown prince incurring his sovereign father's wrath and getting booted from the palace? That was a scandal for the history books in any kingdom.
Small mercies: Aside from Giwangga folk, only Ak Wang knew Father had been exiled. Even Ak Wangjeo's residents thought he was just staying over on royal family business. That was a relief, at least. But if this dragged on, the truth would out. Father—listed on the roster—languishing alone at Ak Wangjeo while Grandfather headed north solo? Anyone would smell something off.
What now?
I was stumped. I'd anticipated tension between Grandfather and Father over the roster, but exile? That extreme? I'd figured the worst was... well, the worst being...
...maybe this is the mildest option.
More shocking still: Among Grandfather's options, this exile was the gentle one. Before it happened, my imagination had been pretty limited. I'd thought his rage might mean confining Father to Giwangjeo or striking his name off the roster at the cost of dishonor. That seemed the max.
But Grandfather scoffed at my puny foresight and chose exile. It expanded my horizons—realizing he could go harder if he wanted.
This is driving me nuts.
I roughly scrubbed my dry face and sighed. Meddling might bring Father even harsher punishment. And I understood both sides: Grandfather's fury, Father's stubbornness on enlisting. How could I not? I was a son myself, soon to be a father. Both were family—how ignore their raw pain? My gut twisted.
The safest path was neutrality, but that just meant agonizing in limbo, unable to act.
Ppiiiik!
What the—?
As I watched Father and Buong-i for a while, a familiar cry echoed from behind: my messenger bird Ppiae-i.
"For me?"
Ppik!
Ppiae-i landed naturally on my shoulder, sparking questions. A bird flying to Ak Wangjeo should seek Ak Wang or Father-in-law. Why me, the near-son-in-law crashing here? My routine was Dochalwon by day, Ak Wangjeo by night—no need for birds. For urgent matters, send a letter to my office. Was it so dire they'd dispatch Ppiae-i instead of a regular pigeon?
"Good work."
Ppiiik~
Couldn't just send it back after the long flight. I stroked its head, then checked the missive.
Deputy Censorate Inspector Han Un, report to Gonghuwon.
Ah.
The Emperor's curt command. Giwangga's commotion had reached his ears, it seemed. His eyes and ears spanned Daesong. News might vary in speed to the palace, but he oversaw all from his throne—via Geum-ui-wi, Dochalwon, and countless officials.
Yet info deliberately hidden at Giwangjeo wasn't instant even for him. He'd learn eventually, but timeliness mattered. Easier to summon the source.
Hence, me. Grandfather brooding in seclusion at Giwangjeo, Father exiled to Ak Wangjeo—my third-party account seemed most effective.
"Your Majesty."
"Come in, Deputy Censorate Inspector."
The Emperor greeted me warmly, but my heart wasn't at ease. Caught between Grandfather and Father, what could I say with my own mind unsettled? "Father and Grandfather are fighting big-time" was all I had. Even that—did it count as "father-son quarrel"? Speaking of Giwangga clashing over the roster before the Emperor. A founding merit subject blocking his own son's war service—could I say that?
How do I even...?
Even this benevolent Emperor—how drop "A founding hero's trying to pull his kid from the war"?
"It was just recent we praised your deeds, yet here I summon you again. Embarrassing."
"This servant is but paper for Your Majesty. Why feel shame in wielding a brush?"
I bowed lower at his words. I had to either dodge or sugarcoat bad news. His "embarrassment" made speaking up harder. A high-pressure or businesslike boss would've been easier. Perks and pitfalls of a gentle superior.
"No such talk. Summoning a troubled Deputy Censorate Inspector warrants such sentiment."
I flinched at "troubled" but steadied. Everyone guessed Giwangga had issues. Just not the specifics. The Emperor mentioning "worries" wasn't special.
"Yet this stems from the crown prince's error. Had he heeded his father's heart even slightly, no trouble. His filial piety twisted to its opposite—truly regrettable."
Ah.
I nearly sighed. He knew. Exactly what plagued Giwangga.
Then why summon me?
If he knew the family drama, why call a powerless crown prince like me?
"Of course, mere conjecture from this one's view of the old gentleman's character and the roster. Hence summoning you."
With a soft chuckle, he patted my shoulder.
"Seeing you confirms my guess."
"Y-yes, Your Majesty."
Stilted reply—he'd called to turn hunch to certainty. Complicated feelings. We'd barely spoken, yet from scant words and my tiny gestures, he was convinced. Meaning my heart was an open book. I'd roamed the Central Plains, handled crises as a seasoned official, but before the Emperor? Still a newbie. Gutted in a blink.
"Deputy Censorate Inspector."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Relay to the old gentleman: His feared calamity won't come to pass."
"Pardon?"
Involuntary question, hastily shut mouth. Doubting an imperial order? Unthinkable. But so unexpected. For Grandfather's worry to vanish, Father must skip the north. Remove his name from the known roster. Huge implications—backpedaling from a pillar house on war matters would rattle the troops.
"Not excluding the crown prince from war entirely. Merely barring him from the north with his father."
"Your Majesty, forgive this dull servant's failure to grasp your exalted will."
"Of the expedition's fourteen armies, I'll hold three inside the border. One will be the crown prince's."
Still baffling. Why bench a chunk of the freshly assembled force?
"The beasts have begun self-destructing."
What?
Mystery solved. The Mongol beast legions infiltrating Daesong. Real-time pests shredding nerves, ruining crops, terrorizing folk. Self-destruct capability? Game-changer.
"Qilin says the Four Evils may be involved. The Four Evils meddling in human affairs—what a lamentable outrage."
"Truly regrettable, Your Maje—"
Instinctive agreement, then blank blink. Qilin's words? That chirpy thing? How? Emperor chats with beasts? Mind-blowing. No wonder "Son of Heaven."
"Indeed. Since you're here, hear it direct. Qilin came to Gonghuwon thanks to you and the old gentleman—you qualify."
Your Majesty, I can't talk to beasts. Qilin just sounds like chirping to me.
My worry proved needless.
Welcome, human. Nice to see you again.
What the—?
I understood Qilin. Or rather, Qilin spoke comprehensible words.