The Emperor (4)
Like an ingredient being readied for the pot, Yuan Shu — blanched alive in boiling water — did not last long.
Shock death from pain, I believe it's called. If you wanted to get technical, I've heard there's a more precise medical term for it, but what would someone who never studied medicine know about that? I'd quietly turned my head away partway through myself, so I'm hardly in a position to give a detailed account.
One thing was certain, though: Yuan Shu had died in agony, wailing the entire way.
So that was why the Emperor had told me not to worry.
"Ghhk—..."
...
Faced with a corpse too gruesome to describe in detail, the onlookers had, unsurprisingly, gone pale. Most couldn't bring themselves to look at it directly, and more than a few were dry-heaving, stomachs roiling at the revolting sight.
But the Emperor was utterly unmoved by a scene that would have sent any ordinary person spinning on their heel.
"Hmm... three times, was it? He held on a good while — if you can call it holding on."
That was all. A calm, measured verdict, delivered in a level voice.
At the sight of the Emperor contemplating that hideously mangled corpse with such perfect composure, the ministers didn't even dare lift their heads.
...I could practically hear the sound of imperial authority consolidating from here.
I couldn't say whether she had engineered this whole situation, but the Emperor was the sort who, when blood needed to be seen, made absolutely certain it was. Viewed one way, you might call it something close to rule by iron fist.
Perhaps because she had witnessed one betrayal after another within the palace walls, she seemed firmly committed to strangling in the cradle anything that might grow into a future threat.
Then the Emperor spoke.
"General-in-Chief. Are you aware?"
"Aware of what, Your Majesty?"
At my question, the Emperor turned her gaze upon Yuan Shu's corpse — still trussed in rope, dangling limply in midair — and continued.
"We have never cared much for those who prattle on and on under the pretense of offering honest counsel."
It was a very quiet voice, yet within the execution ground — where silence had settled after the sentence was carried out — it rang out with perfect clarity.
I watched several of the listening ministers flinch where they stood.
Something had evidently struck home.
Even so, the Emperor pressed on.
"Do you understand what We mean by that, General-in-Chief?"
"...I do, Your Majesty."
In other words: her patience, too, had its limits, so I would do well to conduct myself accordingly.
Anyone who kept raking at the Emperor's nerves after a warning like this would not meet a good end. Perhaps not quite the fate of the wretch hanging over there, but they would not go gently either.
"Ah — of course, We do not speak of you. You may offer Us counsel as freely as you please."
"It is an honor."
"The ones We speak of are..."
Lest some needless misunderstanding spring up between us, the Emperor added that much, then swept her gaze across the assembled court.
"Those who cannot even grasp the situation, yet presume to stick their noses in regardless."
At the frost-edged voice, the thoroughly cowed ministers did nothing but roll their eyes about in their sockets.
Watching the scene, I nodded inwardly.
So that was why she had seemed crueler than necessary — it had all been in service of strengthening the throne.
And here I'd been worried she was turning into another King Zhou of Shang. What a waste of a worry.
"...Now, what would serve as the next punishment, I wonder."
...
...It really is all for the sake of strengthening royal power... right?
Hearing the Emperor mutter to herself, I resolved to steer her carefully, lest she drift somewhere... unfortunate.
Not long after Yuan Shu's punishment, winter arrived. The moment the cold set in, the clouds — as though they had only been waiting — began dumping snow by the bucketful, and the sight of it swirling down like scattered garbage put me in a foul mood.
It was a sentiment any soldier would understand.
I was at the General-in-Chief's residence, working through the usual paperwork, when I looked out at the soldiers outside.
"Aaagh! White trash is falling from the sky!"
"Not today! This is our one day off, it can't be—!!"
The soldiers greeted the falling snow with every reaction imaginable.
The phrasing varied; the agonized wailing did not.
As the men in the camp wailed, someone who looked to be an aide bellowed over the top of them.
"The General declares a snow-clearing operation for today! Everyone grab a shovel and form up!"
Oh dear.
Of all days for snow to fall, it had to pick one with no training scheduled. What spectacularly bad luck. At this rate, they ought to count themselves lucky it hadn't come at dawn.
"Physical training even on a rest day, huh."
"Wow. So much fun."
A few of the soldiers were putting the old maxim into practice: if you cannot avoid it, enjoy it. Naturally, not one of their faces looked the least bit happy about it.
Not that they could simply leave the snow where it lay...
It must have been bad enough, once upon a time, for an entire four-character idiom to be coined about this very predicament — frost piled upon snow.
Shovel in hand, the soldiers began trudging off with expressions that promised to eat someone alive.
"You have it rough."
Having once stood in that very crowd myself, waging my own war against the snow, I understood exactly what they must be feeling.
"Form a line! Push it all in one go!"
"Sir, yes sir!"
True to their rank as elite frontier veterans, they lined up and set to clearing the snow with practiced ease.
The plan was plain: finish a moment sooner, hurry back to rest. It was a sight you would find wherever a snow-clearing operation was underway, and I nodded along.
"General-in-Chief."
Just then a soldier appeared and called for me. I turned to him.
"What is it?"
"Her Majesty the Emperor has summoned the General-in-Chief for a council."
"Hm?"
What could there possibly be to discuss in the dead of winter? Had some matter of importance come up?
Puzzled for a moment, I rose from my seat and said,
"Understood. I'll head over right away."
"Yes, sir."
The soldier, his message delivered, saluted me and vanished.
...
Gazing out at the snow still tumbling down, I thought: it must be absolutely freezing out there.
"Wham!"
"Hey! This idiot ate it on a rock shoveling snow up to his waist!"
That, on the other hand, had to hurt like hell.
Wherever people lived, life was much the same.
Layered in several sets of clothing with Seo Yeo's help, I arrived at the Imperial Palace in no time.
The General-in-Chief's residence had originally been kept at some remove from the palace, ostensibly for security — but by the iron will of a certain someone, it had been relocated to a building right next door. That someone was, naturally, Her Majesty the Emperor, and objection was not an available option.
The place had been crown property to begin with, so the accommodations themselves had improved — but the frequency of summonses seemed to have grown in exact proportion.
So this was that "equivalent exchange," was it?
When I reached the palace gates, I turned back to look at Seo Yeo before going in. As if the cold didn't touch her at all, she stood there with dry snow piled fluffy on her head and shoulders.
At the sight of her, I snorted a laugh and reached out a hand.
"You've got snow on you."
"Ah..."
As I brushed the snow from her head and shoulders, Seo Yeo's face tinged faintly pink, almost shyly.
She fussed over me with such ferocious devotion, yet never once thought to look after herself. Smiling wryly to myself, I set my steps toward the palace once more.
"I, the General-in-Chief, present my greetings to Her Majesty the Emperor."
The palace being so near, I had arrived in short order, and I offered my greetings to the Emperor first of all.
"You're here."
For this council, unlike her usual habit, the Emperor had not dismissed the civil officials at her side. She spoke in a level voice, then put on a playful expression.
"Did the sudden summons startle you?"
"How could I possibly think such a thing?"
I answered without a hair's hesitation. My days of being startled like an amateur were long behind me. She summoned me at all hours simply because she missed my face; by now, not being used to it would be the strange thing.
"Fair enough. I suppose you would be."
Hearing my answer, the Emperor gave a small nod.
"The reason We summoned you so abruptly is none other than..."
...
"...Hmmm."
Mid-sentence, the Emperor let the words trail off, then murmured under her breath.
"On second thought, it would be better to have someone else explain."
...?
At my puzzlement, the Emperor flashed me a grin.
"What are you standing there for? Explain, and be quick about it."
"As you command."
With that, a figure stepped forward from among the officials in attendance on the Emperor. She was a woman I had seen often on my visits to the palace — the one who guided me in each time I was granted an audience with Her Majesty.
"The Han was once mired in chaos. It is no longer."
The woman laid out her case in a calm, measured voice.
"The outside powers that once raised banners against the court no longer pose us any threat, and within our borders, stability is steadily returning."
...
"Now that the realm has regained its peace, is it not time we looked to the future?"
Every gaze in the room converged upon her, yet the woman did not waver so much as an inch.
"To that end, unworthy servant that I am, I venture to offer Your Majesty my counsel."
...What on earth was she laying all this groundwork to say?
Never before had the Emperor's smile — aimed squarely at me — felt so ominous.
"How would it be, Your Majesty, to take the General-in-Chief — the very pillar that upholds the Han — as your wedded consort, and raise an heir?"
...
Struck speechless by that staggering proposal, I could only hold my silence.
Just who the hell are you?