The Capable One Takes the Bureaucratic Path - 3
After my audience with the Emperor, there were some small changes, both official and personal.
Officially, by imperial decree, I assigned new duties to the inspection escorts. They were to scout out hidden talents across the realm and encourage them to serve the empire and its people. It was a way to check on corrupt officials while also keeping an eye on the common folk.
It might seem harsh to pile more work on those already busy with their duties, but when the Emperor wants to unearth talents, what choice is there? If someone has to carry out the imperial command, isn't it better for a hundred people to share the load than one to shoulder it alone?
'Since digging up all sorts of news is already part of their job, it shouldn't be too bad.'
Besides, the new tasks weren't entirely unrelated to their existing ones. Inspections require firm and thorough enforcement, of course, but sifting truth from rumor among countless whispers is just as crucial. In that sense, our inspectors scattered across the Central Plains were experts at processing information.
Such capable folks shouldn't have much trouble tracking down rumors of promising talents. No hard evidence, but that's what I'd decided to believe. Once you delegate a task, trusting and supporting your subordinates' potential is a superior's duty.
If I assign it and then doubt them, who would believe in it?
"The officials are in a bind right now anyway, so they should have room to handle extra duties alongside. In a time when the realm unites to crush the barbarians, anyone scheming behind the scenes deserves summary execution—no complaints there."
Fortunately, even the Left Censor-in-Chief, upon hearing the decree, didn't worry about overburdening the inspectors but concluded they could handle it.
As the Left Censor-in-Chief said, the current Great Song had entered a wartime footing. Against the Central Plains' archenemy, mortal foe, and calamity—the Mongols, no less.
In such times, getting caught in corruption instead of aiding the war effort? Even our benevolent Emperor wouldn't forgive that outrage. They'd be lucky to keep their heads.
"Emphasizing the war with the northern barbarians will rouse even those talents lurking in silence to step forward. Even those who waste their days in idle pursuits during peaceful times take up brush and sword when crisis looms."
"That's true."
Heroes emerge in chaotic times, after all. I had no doubt that wartime would unearth more talents than peacetime, just as the Left Censor-in-Chief suggested.
"Thank goodness my post is in Kaepyeong."
This wasn't just my or the Left Censor-in-Chief's view. Jo Wi-cheo, upon hearing the news, expressed relief tinged with gratitude. He was thankful not to be out in the provinces like the other inspectors, sparing him the hassle of dealing with a flood of emerging talents or dragging reclusive scholars into service.
In truth, Jo Wi-cheo had already front-loaded most of his burdens. While other inspectors handled routine work, he'd been rolling across the Central Plains with me. He'd done the heavy lifting early—and plenty of it.
Anyway, those were the minor official changes. On the personal front—
- Ppiaeek!
"This guy's making a fuss even when I give him booze."
—Ppiae was throwing massive tantrums every time he saw me.
It was bizarre. After I returned to Kaepyeong and became Right Assistant Censor-in-Chief, Ppiae had been living the good life, guzzling fine liquors from Giwangjeo and Akwangjeo.
He knew it was thanks to me, too—whenever he spotted me mid-drink, he'd lazily wag his front flippers in greeting.
Our first meeting had been a bit forceful, sure, but now we were the picture of a good owner and his pet. Or so I'd thought.
What the hell was this? Where did our master-pet bond go?
It was like a dog unleashed in the yard, barking ferociously at a stranger.
Did our friendship evaporate with the alcohol...?
'He doesn't hate me, though.'
When I scooped up the relentlessly squeaking Ppiae, he didn't resist or snap—just kept squeaking.
If anything, that made it more confusing.
'Which tune am I supposed to dance to?'
I was baffled. If he'd consistently raged, I'd have felt better. I'd have racked my brain for any neglect, apologized if guilty, and he'd likely forgive me.
But he wasn't angry. Nor was he indifferent.
What the hell was going on?
- Kki-ing.
- Ppiae?
As this weirdness dragged on, Kki-ing-i, the eldest among the spirit beasts, finally stepped in. Good—handle it yourself. You spirit beasts should understand each other. And with his past as a mountain beast on Hengshan, he ought to get rowdy spirits better than anyone—
- Kki-ing!
'What?'
He seemed to understand too well. After a brief chat with Ppiae, Kki-ing-i turned and started crying out at me, just like Ppiae.
No, man. Don't join the protest—convince Ppiae. What now if you pile on?
- Kki-ing, kki-i-ing!
As I reeled from the betrayal of my most trusted Kki-ing-i, his snout nudged my chest.
For a second, I flinched—escalating from cries to violence? If Kki-ing-i went all out, even I'd struggle.
- Kki-ing!
"Huh?"
But I felt something dull where he prodded. "Oh, this."
I pulled out the heavy object from my bosom. The horn I'd received from the qilin as payment for the spirit medicine. No real use for it, but as an auspicious item, I carried it like a talisman.
It had even worked decently when Do-ol emerged from the Western March Overlord's tomb.
'The qilin's horn.'
I stared blankly at it, then glanced between Kki-ing-i and Ppiae.
The qilin, owner of this horn, was king of the furred beasts. And Kki-ing-i had reacted after hearing Ppiae's cries and touching the horn.
'Was that guy a spirit noble?'
Head spinning, I hit on the most plausible hypothesis.
The black turtle from the imperial rear garden lake. I'd suspected it wasn't ordinary, but their reactions suggested it was a spirit noble.
If it was a spirit noble, everything clicked. Spirit nobles rule shelled beasts. From Ppiae's view, his owner had secretly met the king—what gives?
'But I didn't hear it was staying there.'
Still, with qilin, fenghuang, Do-cheol, and Do-ol roaming the garden, why was the spirit noble quietly in the lake? No mention from the other auspicious or evil beasts?
Maybe it arrived after the expeditionary force left? But the Emperor implied it had been there since ancient times.
'What the heck?'
High chance it was a spirit noble, yet equally unlikely. It explained Ppiae's behavior, but logic said no.
…
'Definitely a spirit noble.'
For a split second, something higher crossed my mind, but I shook it off. Spirit noble. That garden guy was surely one. Had to be.
"Next time I head to the rear garden, we'll go together. Cool off."
- Ppiaeek.
Ppiae's furious squeaks softened a bit at my words. Even as a dragon's subordinate, he couldn't ignore a spirit noble's dignity. Impressive stuff.
Back during the founding war, we'd recaptured Beiping and pushed to Shangdu. Shangdu lay north of the Great Wall, the closest to Beiping among their cities. Even so, the advance was grueling—testament to how arduous northern expeditions were for Central Plains dynasties.
Now, we had to breach the Wall, pass Shangdu, and strike the Mongol heartland. Like Guo Ziyi of old, we'd march to the Onon River with iron resolve.
'We should've finished them then.'
I sighed softly, gazing at the map.
By His Majesty's grace, during the founding war, I'd been given the overly grand role of Northern Campaign Commander. Fortunately, I repaid that trust by retaking Beiping and razing Shangdu.
Thrilled, the Founder praised this lowly one highly, granting me the noble title of Jung San Wang.
But looking back, it was beyond my station. We should've pressed on from Shangdu to Kara... Khara...
'Hmph.'
Their nomadic tongue twisted mine. Easier to call it the "Black Fortress."
To truly honor the Founder's trust, we should've burned the Black Fortress too. Ending it then would've spared His Majesty the war decision, and the realm its plunge back into chaos.
It was my failing. Thus, atonement demanded crushing the Mongols utterly.
"Your Highness. I have urgent matters to report."
"Enter."
As I steeled myself, my adjutant's voice came from outside the tent. "The leader of Hang-san-pa requests to join the campaign. He vows to endure any hardship to exterminate the vile northern barbarians and begs to be used like an ox or dog."
The report brought a smile. Hang-san-pa's resolve was known empire-wide.
In the founding war, proximity to the Mongol base Beiping doomed them to early assault; their old home was razed.
Yet they fought to the last. Now, they rose again, swords in hand. How moving.
"Just the leader?"
"No, Your Highness. They've left minimal guards for Hang-san and brought every warrior."
"Escort the leader and elders here. I'll grant them fitting offices myself."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Such fine warriors deserved official posts. I'd praise their spirit in person and appoint them accordingly.