The King's Procession
“No—!”
Jeong Ho-chan lent a strange, subtle strength to the words ‘in this land’. But that alone was enough.
The guests looked around in bewilderment, glancing about again and again.
Only three men showed no particular expression: Suyang, Gwon Ram, and Han Myeong-hoe.
Suyang shook his head.
“I meant to enjoy a pleasant evening with my friends today, and instead I keep hearing reckless talk. Master, you had best not go about saying such things carelessly. You could find yourself flogged for it.”
Having said his piece, Suyang stroked his chin and let out a hearty laugh.
“Just take it as some random well-wishing and have another drink, shall you?”
“You honor me. I've been spouting idle nonsense and souring the mood, so—humble as I am—allow my attendant to offer a small display of skill to lift the spirits once more.”
“Skill?”
“Yes. The servant I travel with is quite a talented fellow. With your permission, my lord, he would make a fine addition to the festivities.”
At Suyang's nod, Jeong Ho-chan turned to the young man wearing a conical hat and asked in his easy, familiar tone.
“Cha Gyeong-yeon, my boy—care to show them a trick or two?”
“As you say, Master.”
The hatted youth called Cha Gyeong-yeon gave a small bow and stepped into the center of the gathering.
Suyang's party watched the young man with curious eyes—when suddenly he launched himself from where he stood, spinning off one backflip after another into the air.
Before anyone had time to gasp, Cha Gyeong-yeon was dazzling the crowd with a seamless chain of acrobatics.
Toward the end, his body seemed to vanish altogether; all that could be seen was a white jacket flickering through the air.
“Aha!”
“Splendid!”
“The sword dance we saw a moment ago was marvelous enough, but this is quite a spectacle in its own right.”
Even Suyang marveled aloud.
Han Myeong-hoe watched the performance with a flicker of dissatisfaction.
Han Ga-ryeong observed the tumbling with a perfectly blank face.
After a while, Cha Gyeong-yeon finished his acrobatics and alighted lightly on the ground.
“Well, that was something rare and wonderful!”
Suyang laughed heartily, slapping his knee again and again, then urged another cup upon Master Jeong.
“For what I've been shown today, I must award a bolt of cloth each to you and your servant. But first—have a drink.”
“I am deeply grateful. As I wander the roads for a living, being able to share a cup at such a fine gathering and fill this hungry belly of mine is more than enough reward.”
Jeong Ho-chan spoke with practiced eloquence.
Han Myeong-hoe still shot sidelong glances at him, his expression sour.
Gwon Ram read that look, and while Suyang's attention was briefly diverted elsewhere, he drew close to Jeong Ho-chan.
“We enjoyed the show. If you'd care to stay longer, I could arrange a separate table for—”
“No, no, that won't be necessary. My road is long; we only stopped to wet our throats, you see.”
“Is that so?”
Gwon Ram squared his shoulders slightly. If that was the case, then all the better.
Today was the day he intended to introduce his friend Han Myeong-hoe to Suyang—and he wanted no stranger stealing the young prince's attention. Neither Han Myeong-hoe nor Gwon Ram would have welcomed it.
“Our road is long, but at least our parched throats got their fill.”
Jeong Ho-chan draped a graceful smile over his face and offered his farewells to Suyang.
Suyang nodded.
“Ah, you're off, then. Collect your travel money from my servants.”
“You are too kind.”
Han Myeong-hoe watched the departing party of Jeong Ho-chan and Cha Gyeong-yeon carefully for a moment, then turned his gaze away at Gwon Ram's urging.
He had needed to make a lasting impression on Suyang today, above all else.
Jeong Ho-chan rose from his seat.
Cha Gyeong-yeon followed behind him.
“In your esteemed view, Master—what did you make of that fellow Suyang's countenance?”
Cha Gyeong-yeon lowered his voice.
“……Might he be worth joining hands with, one day?”
“Hm. As I said a moment ago—his face is not a bad one. He surely has the fortune and blessing to rule over a kingdom.”
There was something oddly flat about Jeong Ho-chan's answer, and Cha Gyeong-yeon tilted his head.
“Is that not impressive enough?”
“I didn't say it was bad. Merely that it is only that much. His capacity may fill a single nation—but no more than that, brimming though it may be.”
Jeong Ho-chan replied with a light shake of his head.
Cha Gyeong-yeon laughed as though he'd heard something absurd.
“Come now. A man with the capacity to swallow a whole nation can hardly be called ordinary. And still he falls short in your estimation, Master?”
“Ordinary he is not, that much is true. He is the sort who will never be content with a peaceful life—the kind who calls up wind and storm wherever he goes. He simply falls short of what I am looking for.”
“Do the elders think the same?”
At that, Jeong Ho-chan smiled.
“How should I know what the elders think? Though, truth be told, perhaps my eye has simply been set too high.”
Jeong Ho-chan closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.
“Who knows—even Taejo Yi Seong-gye himself might have fallen short of my eye. My great-grandfather seems to have held that man in high regard. Which would mean he saw in him a lord worth following, I suppose.”
“Goodness. Forgive my boldness, Master, but you truly do set your sights impossibly high.”
“Do I? But then, it's the truth!”
Though the remark bordered on the audacious, Jeong Ho-chan answered only with a quiet smile.
“Well, it's true that a man of his caliber is a rare find. He has fortune and blessing of his own, and—more than that—the will to see those blessings fully enjoyed. He is a man who will no doubt achieve whatever he desires. But if his reach ends at a single kingdom, how could he ever accomplish what we hope for?”
“That may be so, but…… do you truly believe you'll ever meet a man of the caliber you seek, Master?”
“It won't be easy. That's precisely the problem.”
Jeong Ho-chan closed his eyes and sank into thought.
“Well, let's see……. When I cast my divination this morning, it told me my fortune lay in meeting a person of consequence.”
“Grand Prince Suyang is certainly a rare figure himself, so the reading wasn't wrong.”
“True enough. Hmm—wait a moment……. Do you not hear something?”
Jeong Ho-chan stopped mid-stride and narrowed his eyes.
Cha Gyeong-yeon nodded.
“Yes, I hear it. Truthfully I've been hearing it for a while now. Music—a procession's festive air. But it's unlike any official's entourage I've ever heard.”
“Sharp as ever, I see.”
Jeong Ho-chan broke into a grin.
“If you ask me, that sounds like the King himself on the move.”
“The King?”
Cha Gyeong-yeon's eyes went round.
Jeong Ho-chan nodded, then closed both eyes and fell into thought.
“So the person of consequence I'm fated to meet today might be the King himself. They say the present King is a man of considerable talent. And yet…… a King of Joseon is not a position from which my ambitions could ever be realized.”
“What will you do?”
Jeong Ho-chan opened his eyes and gave a small smile.
“Isn't it a stroke of luck, either way? When else would I ever lay eyes on the face of a King who lives behind palace walls? Fortune has handed us an unexpected opportunity—let us at least look upon him from afar before we go.”
“A sound plan.”
Just as Jeong Ho-chan's party was exchanging these words, a servant came sprinting in, breathless, and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“His Majesty the King approaches—!”
“What? His Majesty?”
At those words, the guests who had been seated in their round gathering scrambled to their feet in a flurry.
Suyang sprang up as well, his brow furrowing.
“His Majesty comes in person……? Now?”
Suyang murmured the words as though spitting them out.
Gwon Ram asked quietly, “What shall we do?”
The guests' panic was understandable enough.
Though the three-year mourning period for the late King Sejong had ended, it was hardly a seemly thing to be holding a feast at such a time.
And to make matters worse, they had been caught red-handed by the King himself.
“What to do…… what is there to do? If His Majesty rebukes us, we simply beg his forgiveness and say we were in the wrong. What else can be done?”
Suyang dropped heavily back into his seat.
Indeed, what more could anyone do? The guests fidgeted restlessly, stealing anxious glances at the approaching procession.
The clip-clop of hooves rang out sharply, and soon a mounted officer appeared, calling out as he rode.
“His Majesty the King approaches! All present, make ready to receive His Majesty with proper ceremony!”
By then Suyang had straightened his robes and stepped forward.
“Is His Majesty truly coming this way?”
“That is so, my lord.”
The officer, recognizing Suyang, offered a respectful salute from horseback.
Suyang nodded, then asked again.
“Does he know I am here?”
“I cannot speak to the details, my lord…… but yes, I believe he knows.”
“Hmm, I see. My thanks.”
Suyang nodded once more, then turned to look back at his guests.
“Well then—His Majesty has arrived. Everyone, to your places and receive him.”
The royal guard of armored soldiers formed up in a long semicircle.
Everyone was at a loss in the face of the King's unannounced visit—yet Suyang alone seemed scarcely startled, carrying himself with perfect composure.
Even the bold Gwon Ram could not quite hide his unease.
Only Han Myeong-hoe and Han Ga-ryeong remained distinctly cool. Was that simply their nature—or was it because, holding no real office, they had nothing to fear?
“Will it be all right, my lord……? I confess I'm uneasy.”
“The mourning for my royal father is already over. What is there to worry about?”
Suyang answered Gwon Ram calmly—yet even as he spoke, a single thick bead of sweat was trickling down his jaw.
A drum beat slowly.
In time with the sound, the armored soldiers fell into ranks, and before long the procession began to part cleanly down the middle.
Suyang murmured, “There he comes.”
And indeed, the King's palanquin—the royal carriage—came into view.
It drew slowly toward Suyang's party, and at last came to a halt.
At the shout of the ranking guard, the palanquin bearers lowered the King's carriage to the ground.
Suyang stepped forward, bowed low before the palanquin, and knelt, pressing his forehead to the earth.
“You have come, Your Majesty.”
Gwon Ram and all the guests behind Suyang dropped to their knees in unison.
Jeong Ho-chan and Cha Gyeong-yeon slipped quietly into their midst amid the motion.
In response to Suyang's elaborate courtesies, the King adjusted his posture atop the palanquin and answered in a resonant, commanding voice.
“None of that ceremony—not among kin.”
With those words, the King stepped down from the carriage.
A commanding presence—and a full, flowing beard that might have passed for the reincarnation of Guan Yu from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms caught the eye.
The King glanced over the banquet tables, then continued with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“So you've been enjoying yourselves today. And well you might—you've all toiled hard these past months.”
“We beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty.”
The King's voice was calm, carrying not reproof but a warm affection for his kin.
Yet a thief startles at his own shadow—Suyang, for his part, flushed strangely at the words.
What if His Majesty were to rebuke him—you barely finished mourning your royal father last month, and already you're throwing drinking parties?
The boldness he'd shown before Gwon Ram just moments ago—declaring outright that one year was ample for a royal parent's mourning—had vanished without a trace.
Thinking he had to change the subject quickly, Suyang looked up at the King for a moment before speaking carefully.
“But, Your Majesty—what brings you all the way out here……? The mourning has ended only recently, and I fear for Your Majesty's health.”
Suyang's words were not mere flattery.
The three-year mourning was an arduous ordeal, and it was no rarity for a mourner to ruin his health and take to his bed.
Moreover, the present King had been obliged to observe not only the three-year mourning for his father, King Sejong the Great, but also, in succession, that for his mother, Queen Soheon. His body could hardly have failed to waste away.
The King gave a faint smile and waved a hand.
“I am quite well.”
But for all his words, the King's face looked oddly drawn, his complexion pale.
Suyang nodded—yet his eyes glinted strangely.
'He has been overworked ever since he assumed the regency before our royal father's passing, but his color looks even worse now. I hear he has been suffering from boils as well…….'
The King's health was treated as a state secret, yet the information had trickled its way to Suyang piece by piece.
Han Myeong-hoe, standing nearby, cast a meaningful glance at Suyang's profile.
Suyang spoke again, posing as the devoted younger brother.
“The spring thaw is slow in coming even with Qingming near, so you must take care to preserve your precious health, Your Majesty. But what brings you here?”
“I have come out to observe the demonstration of a newly developed weapon by the Gunpowder Guard.”
“The Gunpowder Guard…….”
Suyang tilted his head.
“That's right.”
The King answered with a broad smile.
His face showed even a touch of pride—and indeed, he had every reason for it.
The Gunpowder Guard was a unit newly organized in the latter days of King Sejong's reign, dedicated to the handling of gunpowder weaponry.
Originally under the direct command of the Board of War, it had been placed under the King's personal authority at the wish of the present King, who took great interest in the development of new weapons.
'Well, to be fair, my elder brother was always absorbed in developing gunpowder weapons.'
Suyang squared his shoulders slightly.
Now that he looked, the banner of the force the King had brought with him was indeed that of the Gunpowder Guard.
“Truly, Your Majesty embodies both letters and arms in equal measure—the future of this nation could not be brighter.”
Though Suyang lavished admiration freely, his heart was a tangle of conflicting feelings.
His eldest brother, the King, had never once fallen short—in learning, in arms, in anything—since long before, sweeping his younger brothers along with a natural-born majesty.
Suyang himself, and no less Grand Prince Anpyeong, were without peer when it came to sheer talent—yet before their eldest brother, they always had to yield a move.
This, precisely, was the resentment smoldering in a corner of Suyang's heart.
Of course he acknowledged his elder brother's gifts were exceptional—but he inwardly prided himself that his own talents yielded nothing to anyone, and so a thread of inferiority was always creeping up on him from some corner of his mind.
Enough. Not now…—he chided himself.
Whether or not he sensed Suyang's inner turmoil, the King continued.
“To govern a realm well, one must attend not only to letters but to arms as well, must one not? That is why I have brought the Crown Prince with me today. We were just on our way back from the Gunpowder Guard's demonstration, and hearing that my younger brother was holding a feast here, I thought I might at least lay eyes on him.”
“Ah…… the Crown Prince as well…….”
Before Suyang could even finish speaking, a slender-looking youth in a golden dragon robe emerged from behind the royal carriage.
The boy was the Crown Prince himself—Yi Hong-wi.
He sat mounted on horseback, and his bearing looked altogether valiant.
'Hong-wi—wasn't the boy eleven this year? Already he rides quite well, does he?'
Suyang was inwardly astonished. Boys in their growing years shot up quickly, it was true, but Hong-wi's presence—perhaps because he took after his father—carried a solid, well-set frame even at so young an age.
Yet where the King's bearing was that of a tall, powerfully built man, Hong-wi was slighter and more finely drawn.
That he likely took after his mother, Queen Hyondeok of the Gwon clan, who had left the world early to the fires of childbed fever after bearing him.
Hong-wi offered his greeting to his uncle.