People Are Not Merchandise
"It's no coincidence, I hear. The Sahalcha Ban clan village suffered its calamity this time because they went to complain about the increased tribute—or so the story goes."
"That would make sense. Man-ju has been pouring everything into securing war funds lately. His stronghold is Sorobirada, and his personal guard used to number around five hundred—but apparently they've already swelled to a thousand. If his own retainers number that many, imagine how many troops he can draw from the chieftains under him."
"He's expanded that much recently?"
"He has. That's why he's been desperate to scrape up scrap iron for forging weapons. It's not an easy thing to come by, mind you... but feeding that army is supposedly why the tribute has grown so heavy."
"What is he scheming all of a sudden?"
"Which is exactly why the whole region feels so unsettled. As if things weren't bad enough already—the chieftain of the Jianzhou Guard, Fancha, is said to be on his deathbed... Bandits swarming on one side, taxes climbing on the other. The merchants claim they're half dead from it all."
Jang Hui-sun refilled his cup and went on.
"Of course, you shouldn't take merchant whining at face value."
Hong-wi did not let the words drift past him.
There was no doubt about it—the land of Jianzhou would soon be caught in a whirlwind, and Man-ju had clearly seen it coming. That was why he was throwing himself into military expansion.
Ho-in grumbled.
"A man like Man-ju tightening his grip on everything—it just feels wrong. Especially after what I've seen of him..."
"Hey, watch your mouth."
Jang Hui-sun's face went sober as the drink drained out of it, and he darted glances around the room. Fortunately, no one was listening.
"Talk like that carelessly and you'll land yourself in serious trouble. You're a member of the trading company everyone in Hwangseongpyeong has their eye on right now, aren't you? Mind your tongue—people will come sniffing."
Ho-in shut his mouth.
Hong-wi spoke quietly.
"Man-ju is well along in years now. He wants to become the master of Jianzhou before time runs out—by any means necessary."
"That's what they say. Yi Jing-ok died a few years back, so this really is his last chance. And in truth, it seems our Master Hwang intends to join hands with Man-ju while the opportunity is open."
"Is that so?"
Hong-wi and Ho-in were both taken aback.
"Master Hwang's creed is that money has no likes or dislikes, no right or wrong. And let's be honest—smuggling itself is a crime under state law, isn't it?"
"That may be true, but..."
"In any case, if you want to do business in Hwangseongpyeong, you must stay in the good graces of Man-ju and his son Lee Go-nap-hap. Fall out of their sight, and you won't so much as taste water in that town."
"Fair enough."
"And this is something else entirely, but..."
Jang Hui-sun looked at Hong-wi.
"The way I see it, Master Temusi'i could build up a trading company of his own, no trouble at all. One every bit as fine as... well, Master Hwang's."
"You think so?"
Hong-wi smiled.
"Course I do. Master Hwang started out with next to nothing himself. What could Your Lordship possibly lack?"
Just as Jang Hui-sun finished speaking, a commotion broke out outside.
Ho-in turned to look.
"What do you suppose that is?"
"Some ordinary ruckus, no doubt. Nothing worth bothering about."
Jang Hui-sun shrugged and turned his attention back to his cup.
The next instant, a woman's scream tore through the air.
"Somebody help!"
"Isn't that one of our people?"
Hong-wi sprang to his feet, and Ho-in and Cha Gyeong-yeon rose with him.
There was no mistaking it—a Joseon woman's scream.
"Let's go see."
"Ah—wait just a moment! Really, and this good liquor wasted..."
Flustered, Jang Hui-sun half rose, then hesitated. He stared at the bottle before him, wavered—and then gave up on it, hurrying after Hong-wi's party in a fluster.
"There. Look at that."
Cha Gyeong-yeon's and Ho-in's gazes followed Hong-wi's pointing finger.
An old man and a girl—father and daughter, by the look of them. Both bound hand and foot, dragged along by a rope looped around their necks by a barbarian warrior. It had been the girl who screamed moments ago; whether out of resignation or despair, her mouth was shut now.
Hong-wi's blood boiled.
"Aren't those our own people? Dragging human beings along like dogs on a leash!"
"Your Majesty."
Cha Gyeong-yeon stepped in front of Hong-wi as he started forward, shaking his head.
"You must not involve yourself. Your Majesty—"
"How can you say that, seeing what I'm seeing?"
Hong-wi would not bend.
What had happened to the pair was plain as day. Prisoners seized in a raid by the barbarians. They would be sold as slaves, here or elsewhere—it was obvious.
"I must speak with them."
"Your Majesty, that is—"
"Surely I can do no more than talk to them."
There was a steely resolve in Hong-wi's voice. Cha Gyeong-yeon decided that further protest would be useless. He glanced anxiously around them instead.
Hong-wi walked straight up to the barbarian warrior.
The man raked him over with a hostile, insolent stare.
"What is it? They're not for sale."
Treating human beings like trade goods! Hong-wi felt his hair stand on end. But he had no intention of starting a fight—not yet—and so he spoke in a low, level voice.
"I wish to speak with these people."
"Speak?"
The man frowned at the strangeness of it, then shrugged as if it were no concern of his.
"Whatever you like. Just be done before their owner returns."
"Understood."
Hong-wi went first to the old man.
"Elder, can you understand what I'm saying?"
The old man gave no answer of any kind—only lifted his head stiffly and looked at Hong-wi. The girl beside him did not so much as turn her gaze. Her manner was closer to utter numbness than to defiance.
"Elder."
"Aye—I understand ye."
The old man answered in a cracked, gravelly voice. His speech carried a heavy southern accent, thick with the cadence of the far provinces. He had come a long, long way.
Hong-wi found himself wondering what his story was.
"How did you come to this?"
The old man lowered his eyes. He seemed to have little heart for answering, but just as Hong-wi was about to give up, he spoke with both eyes shut.
"Me and me daughter lived in Muju, in Hamgil Province. Then them devils snatched us up and dragged us here, and now look at us."
"Muju..."
Hong-wi echoed the word, then furrowed his brow.
"I understood that place was abolished years ago."
"There's a story behind that."
The old man spat the words out flatly.
Muju had been one of the Four Fortresses established in the reign of King Sejong the Great—but shortly before Hong-wi gave up the throne, it had been dismantled on the grounds that it was indefensible from a strategic standpoint. By then, real power had long since slipped into the hands of Suyang's faction.
Hong-wi was about to say more when Cha Gyeong-yeon pulled at his arm.
"Your Lordship, let us go. Too many eyes about."
"Leave these people behind and walk away?"
Hong-wi's voice cracked out sharply. At the sound, the barbarian warrior turned to look their way.
Hong-wi was about to say something more when the old man spoke.
"Young man."
The old man's manner had softened somewhat since before.
"By the look of ye, ye're dressed in their clothes—but ye're our folk, aren't ye?"
Hong-wi answered with a nod instead of words.
The old man glanced sidelong at Cha Gyeong-yeon and said stiffly:
"This friend speaks true. Meddle in what's none of yer business and ye'll only get yer feathers singed."
Then he turned his gaze to his daughter and lowered his voice.
"...But if ye truly wish to help me—then take my daughter, at the least. Save her, and I ask nothing more."
"Father!"
At that, the girl let out a shrill cry.
"I won't go! If ye abandon yer own father, where could I go? I won't go!"
The old man, as if there were nothing left to say, closed his eyes once more.
Cha Gyeong-yeon tugged at Hong-wi's sleeve and drew him aside.
"Your Majesty, what do you intend to do? Interfering now would only breed trouble. The barbarians harbor no love for Joseon as it is—and this is right at Joseon's doorstep. Anything conspicuous is dangerous!"
"I have no intention of standing idle while freeborn people of my own country are seized and sold as slaves."
Hong-wi's mind was made up.
"You must not cause a scene."
"Then if it vexes you so—why not simply pay their price and take them away?"
Cha Gyeong-yeon was struck dumb.
Hong-wi walked straight toward the old man and his daughter. Just then, a pot-bellied man came lumbering out. The warrior who had been dragging the pair bowed his head low, and Hong-wi took the fat man for a slave merchant.
As Hong-wi approached, the pot-bellied man turned to look at him.
"Er—is there something you want?"
"There is."
Hong-wi answered curtly in the Jurchen tongue. The fat man shrugged.
"And what would that be?"
"I wish to buy these two. I'll pay their price."
"Hmm...?"
The pot-bellied man gave Hong-wi a slow, appraising look, up and down—the look of a man who had seen every kind of fool.
"The girl, perhaps, I can understand. But the father's sick and next to useless. You still want him?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Well, if you insist... very well. But the old man only."
"Both of them. That is my terms."
At that, the fat man shook his head sideways.
"Ah no, my friend. That can't be done."
"Why not?"
"That girl is a virgin."
The pot-bellied man grinned slyly and ran his eyes over the old man's daughter, up and down, like a tongue licking over her. The look made Hong-wi's skin crawl.
The girl apparently knew no Jurchen, but she seemed to catch the meaning of the fat man's words well enough by instinct. She shot him a look of pure disgust.
The pot-bellied man laughed heartily.
Hong-wi wanted to strike him where he stood.
"I can pay any price you name."
"I'm sure you can. But price isn't the issue. She's to be presented as tribute to Lord Kunaha."
He gave Hong-wi a swaggering, sidelong look, as if to say surely even you understand that much.
"So? Is there something about that that won't do?"
Hong-wi did not yield an inch.
The fat man's eyes went wide with disbelief. Cha Gyeong-yeon grimaced and pressed a finger to his right temple.
The pot-bellied man shouted:
"Didn't I just tell you? She's a gift for Lord Kunaha!"
"And I told you I would pay whatever price you ask."
"This young friend's ears must be stuffed with wax—he simply cannot hear a word..."
The fat man wagged his index finger in Hong-wi's face, jabbing it at him, then made to turn away as though there were nothing more to say. But he felt hands grip his shoulders and had no choice but to turn his head back.
"Wh—is this fellow mad?"
He twisted his body, trying to shake off Hong-wi's grip on his shoulder. It was useless. The pot-bellied man's face scrunched up in a full scowl.
This brat—his grip is stronger than it looks...
Hong-wi spoke flatly.
"I'll ask once more. How much will it take?"
"Udana, what's going on here?"
At this sudden shout, every head turned. There stood Pushanhadar and Ugunai.
In the instant Hong-wi's grip loosened, the pot-bellied man tore his shoulder free and scurried straight over to Pushanhadar.
Pushanhadar threw Hong-wi's party a dubious look.
"Temusi'i, what are you doing here again? What's this about?"
"Do you know this fellow?"
the pot-bellied Udana asked. Pushanhadar nodded stiffly.
"This fellow here's thrown a fit out of nowhere, saying he'll buy the virgin girl!"
"What?"
Pushanhadar's head snapped around.
"What's all this fuss about?"
"I'm taking this girl and her father with me."
"That won't happen."
Pushanhadar cut him off flatly. But Hong-wi had no intention of backing down either.
"These people are my people."
"Your people, my foot!"
Udana scoffed.
"What is this—love at first sight, is it? She's not even much to look at."
At that, Ho-in flared up, shoved back his sleeve, and stepped forward. The menace of it made Udana shrink back slightly, grumbling.
"Well—tastes do vary, I suppose..."
"What's gotten into you? Don't push your luck. If you mean to put down roots here and do business, then keep quiet."
"I cannot do that."
"Ha—you little—!"
Pushanhadar stamped his feet in exasperation. He had already found Temusi'i galling enough, and this he simply could not stomach.
Lee Go-nap-hap was that Man-ju's son. And Man-ju was the Dudu of the Jianzhou Guard, one of the Three Jianzhou Guards—the de facto power over all the Jianzhou Jurchens. A merchant wanting to make a living in Jianzhou had to curry his favor and then curry it again, and even that might not suffice.
Ugunai stood with his arms crossed, watching Hong-wi in silence.
Pushanhadar jabbed a finger and shouted:
"I hear you made quite a haul at Sahalcha—your eyes must be bigger than your belly now!"
"Whether I made a fortune or lost one has nothing to do with this. My countrymen are being treated like this before my very eyes—I cannot simply stand by."
Pushanhadar's face went mottled red and blue, and he hurled down a stream of curses.
Hong-wi stood in silence and took it all. Pushanhadar, having emptied his lungs of every curse he knew, had just drawn breath to say something more—
"What is all this racket?"
It was a voice Hong-wi had heard before. Every gaze swung toward it at once.
Lee Go-nap-hap stood there with his men, a sullen scowl on his face.
"Was this your idea of showing me a good time? Well, watching a fight does have its amusement, I suppose."
"Ah, Lord Dudu—you honor us with your presence."
Pushanhadar bowed his head flat to the ground.