The Hunt (2)
In the states of antiquity, a monarch's hunt was an affair of tremendous scale. The ruler never rode out alone—his ministers were expected to attend him, and soldiers had to be marshaled to escort the entire party.
Naturally, vast quantities of supplies were needed to keep all those mouths fed, along with a schedule planned down to the hour. And as a bonus, every minister in attendance was, for the duration, unable to tend to the affairs of state.
On top of it all, countless laborers had to be conscripted to drive the beasts toward wherever the sovereign happened to be—need I say more? It was, in short, an exercise in shaving away the nation's strength itself. No wonder the people of old branded any ruler forever off on the hunt a feckless sovereign.
So why hunt at all? Well... because it was fun.
When histories described hunts with words like revelry spelled out in black and white, one could well understand why rulers of old delighted in them so. Every tiresome detail I mentioned was handled entirely by underlings; the monarch need only ride out and gleefully let fly arrow after arrow. If that sounds enviable, your only recourse is to claim the throne yourself.
...Even so, hunting wasn't solely a bad thing. Since ruler and ministers alike had to move their own bodies, it kept them in condition; and since hunts were usually held in forests or mountains, it doubled as field training for the escort troops. Relieving stress matters a great deal in life, after all—a person who does nothing but work, without rest, will sooner or later collapse in a heap. It was also a stage for displaying the sovereign's authority, so skipping it entirely wouldn't do either. The real trick lay in knowing whether one could restrain oneself—doing only as much as was needed. In all things, moderation, never excess.
Reflecting on all this, I had to admit that living was a genuine headache.
In any case, Her Imperial Majesty was not particularly fond of hunting. Considering that hunting was practically a mandatory hobby among the high nobles of old, she was quite the rare case.
I believe I'd recalled the reason before—what was it again? Ah, yes. Something about how being with me was more enjoyable than the hunt?
Her Majesty, who scrutinized my every breath and gesture, appeared to have seen through at a glance that I didn't much care for hunting. ...Come to think of it, I had given her ample material to reach that conclusion.
"Jeong Reung! Let's go hunting together! Hunting!"
"No."
"Aww..."
Back in Bing Province, I'd turned down Lü Bu's invitations to hunt more times than I could count. Even Lü Bu, who normally squared up to me without a shred of hesitation, could only retreat in a deflated hunch at my flat refusals.
For a man like me, there was exactly one occasion on which I would take the field for a hunt: when wild beasts descended on the villages and did harm. When a massive boar was wrecking crops, or a man-eating tiger or bear appeared—creatures that were genuinely dangerous—I would personally mount up and ride out. Generally, if a report reached my ears at all, it meant the beast was a cunning old customer that ordinary hunters had failed to bring down time and again. In such cases, I stepped in to speed the resolution.
Of course, I didn't do the actual catching. Some general in the vicinity handled that. I was more like... the captain of the cheering squad. With me nearby, all manner of people scrambling for my favor would comb the woods for the beast with literal fire in their eyes. Tigers, bears, wolves, the lot... Conservation could wait for future generations; when animals that had tasted human flesh were prowling near people's homes, what choice did I have? It was a game of chicken—your life or mine. When I ordered every dangerous animal in the area captured wherever possible, they wiped out the local predator population so thoroughly that I could only marvel. Was this the power of numbers at work?
In any case, for Her Majesty—who had catalogued my tastes down to the finest detail and tailored everything to suit them—there was no reason whatsoever to organize a hunt I didn't much enjoy. Had I loved hunting, I've no doubt she'd have seized on it as a pretext to multiply her hours at my side. It was a mercy, on occasions like this, that I was a homebody who preferred to sprawl contentedly at home.
The preparations for the hunt Her Majesty had decided on a whim took no great time. This was Luoyang, once the very pinnacle of corrupt government—was the imperial family really to own not a single hunting ground near such a city?
...I couldn't decide whether that was something to be glad about.
Even Emperor Ling, the sovereign before her, had been a devotee of wine, women, and games within the palace walls who had never once ridden out to hunt, and Her Majesty, the current occupant of the throne, hunted little herself. The result was grounds overflowing with game—so overrun that they'd taken to culling animals under the banner of population control, turning a tidy profit on the side. In other words, there was no need to mobilize legions of beaters to drive the beasts in from afar. The grounds lay close by, mass manpower was unnecessary, and the plan was not to linger. With conditions this convenient, it would have been stranger for the preparations to drag.
"If the preparations are complete, then we depart."
"Yes."
I set off alongside Liu Bei, who commanded my bugok.
"..."
"Mmm..."
Guan Yu and Zhang Fei were still, for reasons beyond my guessing, keeping anxious tabs on their eldest sworn sister's mood. They doubtless believed themselves discreet, but to my eyes—eyes that had come to know their bodies in the most intimate sense—nothing could have been plainer. Watching them, a question rose in me unbidden. Did you two actually do something wrong?
Archery. To speak honestly, my arrow accuracy ran low. Call it an utter frailty where aiming at anything was concerned. I missed even in games where all it took was lining up a shot and clicking a mouse; reality need hardly be discussed. Were my ancestors—presently enjoying archery contests in the great beyond off to the east—to hear this, they'd come sprinting after me with a switch, howling you wretch, but a lie it could not be called.
Even so, persistent effort had at least sharpened my aim from a standing position: seven hits out of ten shots. But my pride refused to let me preen as some master of the bow on that alone. Mounted archery? I could imitate the motions, yet anyone who watched my arrows carve up empty air would assume I was hunting ghosts. And what did that mean in practice?
"Missed again."
It meant I stood no chance against the beasts tearing through the forest in a frenzy, displaying footwork of almost divine inspiration. What manner of beast throws in a sudden left turn mid-sprint? I could scarcely hit a stationary target—what hope against animals running so fast that onlookers gasped in admiration? This was truly no mean feat, I sighed.
Twang!
"Ah, dang it all! Mine flew wide too!"
At that moment, Lü Bu forced out a laugh as her arrow thudded home a hair's breadth beside a beast. I answered in an even voice.
"I know you're missing on purpose."
"Eep!"
Lü Bu's face went slack with shock—how on earth could I possibly know? Honestly, the woman couldn't act to save her life. Was there a soul alive who couldn't see through that performance? Having someone read my mood at an outing meant for pleasure was the last thing I wanted, so I cracked a wry smile.
"No need to spare my pride. Shoot as you please."
"...Okay."
Blushing to the ears, Lü Bu nodded.
Krak!
"...Ah."
Seo Yeo was well on her way to earning the title of Weapon-Destroyer, demolishing bow after bow. She drew and drew, apparently trying to get a feel for the thing, but her strength ran so far past reasonable that each bow (formerly a bow) simply stretched and stretched. It was a moment that explained, better than any words, why Seo Yeo favored the javelin over the bow.
Still—so that was actually possible, hmm. However many times I watched it, the sight of a wooden frame splitting clean in two never lost its wonder.
"Indeed... hitting anything is difficult."
Her Majesty, who shared my predicament, was sinking into low spirits over arrows that kept planting themselves in the dirt. ...Hm, this wouldn't do. Despite the soldiers I'd quietly primed driving beast after beast toward her, Her Majesty failing to take even one unremarkable animal was a genuine problem. The Emperor went hunting and bagged not a single head? Anyone watching would call that a loss of face. It fully explained why Her Majesty had never cared for the hunt.
Bringing to mind the famous anecdote of Cao Cao and Emperor Xian, I opened my mouth to address the Empress.
"...Your Majesty, might I trouble you for one of your arrows?"
"Mm? That is no great favor to grant."
Her Majesty drew near and handed me an arrow from her own quiver. It was a gorgeous specimen that proclaimed its imperial owner at a glance; that near-disposable ammunition was wrought so lavishly said everything about the majesty of the throne.
Turning my head this way and that, I soon spotted a stag of truly impressive bearing. Those antlers are enormous. And the body on it—magnificent. Ancient China likened the deer to wealth and success, and held a successful hunt to be a fine omen, so this was precisely the beast I'd been looking for.
Skreeee—!!
If there was one problem, it was that the instant I drew the string, the stag loosed a ringing bugle and bolted. Backing out now would have been laughable, so cautious movement was my only option. Granted, the Han my people belong to these days is the other Han—the Korean one, not the Han of this empire—but I trusted my ancestors would lend me their strength. Lend it they would, I was sure of it.
Thwip—!
Telling myself that a miss here meant handing the job to Lü Bu, I loosed the string without ceremony, and—
Thock!
The arrow, drifting through empty air for one long breath, buried itself squarely in the stag's skull. Pierced through the back of the head, the beast died on the spot without so much as a cry, crashing to the ground with a dull boom. Watching it, I felt strangely hollow. ...Well, would you look at that. Did my ancestors actually lend me their strength?
"Whoa, you actually hit that! That's my Jeong Reung for you—"
"Shh. Quiet."
"Huh...?"
Lü Bu, who had pounced on the moment as if she'd been waiting for it, showered me with praise—then cocked her head at my hush. The instant I lowered my bow, several ministers checking the carcass discovered the Emperor's arrow and began to bellow with all their might.
"Long live Her Imperial Majesty!"
"Long live Her Imperial Majesty!"
The triple cry for the Emperor swept through the surroundings in moments. Wasn't it written in Romance of the Three Kingdoms that Cao Cao, riding at the Emperor's side, subtly angled himself to receive those very cheers? The scene where a furious Guan Yu moved to cut him down while Liu Bei restrained her, begging her to hold fast, had always stayed with me. I, for my part, had no cause for such theatrics here. Withdrawing demurely to the rear, I watched with perfect calm as the Emperor received her acclaim.
"...What happened here, exactly?"
Her Majesty's flustered expression at this sudden turn of events was, I must say, thoroughly entertaining.