Chapter 81
Chapter 81
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Great King Namsaeng
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“If you help me, I won’t send you to Cheokseong.”
“Really?”
Just as he was about to plummet into hell, a lifeline of salvation descended. Kim Sowun’s face lit up brighter than ever.
“Wh-what do you need me to do, my lord?”
“You said you’re from Bukcheon, right? North of Seorabeol.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Then you must know where Jaemae Jeongtaek is.”
“That’s...”
Kim Sowun hesitated, unable to speak.
“The home of Minister Kim Seohyeon and his son, Kim Yusin.”
This time, even Go Jeong-ui was taken aback. Kim Sowun, who had been wavering, finally nodded.
“I know it very well.”
“I’ll send you back to Silla.”
“Pardon?”
Kim Sowun looked at me in shock.
“All you have to do is one errand for me. Deliver my message—no, my words—to Kim Yusin.”
“T-to Lord Yusin? But...”
“You think the moment you mention my name, your head will roll? It’s your one chance to see your family again. Refuse my offer, and you’ll be dragged to Cheokseong right now. You’ll spend the rest of your life in those cold, barren plains with the Malgal tribes. In time, your family will forget you even existed.”
To my quiet words, Kim Sowun bowed his head and wept. I watched until his sobs subsided. Finally, he lifted his face and spoke.
“I’ll do as you command.”
“Good choice. Family comes first, after all.”
“Wh-what should this lowly one do?”
“Simple. Go to Jaemae Jeongtaek and relay exactly what I told you.”
“Is that all?”
“Then stay at home. A merchant from the Maemul Guild will come find you. Pass Kim Yusin’s reply to him.”
“Lord Yusin might think I’m a spy.”
“A spy hides their identity and sneaks around gathering intel. You’re just a messenger.”
Kim Sowun softly repeated the word “messenger” to himself. I turned to Geom Mojam.
“Prepare a place for him to rest well until he departs for Seorabeol.”
Kim Sowun bowed repeatedly, expressing his gratitude, and left with Geom Mojam. Go Jeong-ui, who had been silent, spoke up.
“How did you know where Kim Yusin lives?”
“I know everything.”
I struck a smug pose for the first time in ages as I looked at Go Jeong-ui. He shook his head in disbelief.
“What are you planning with this contact to Kim Yusin?”
“I’ll meet him. On the way.”
“Will Kim Yusin guarantee our safety?”
I didn’t mention that his eyes hadn’t turned red. As a descendant of the Gaya kings, he had scraped by among the true-bone nobles. He must have learned to view even his father’s death with cold detachment.
“If we go by sea like last time, the entire Silla navy will be waiting for us.”
“They won’t just check faces and let us pass like before.”
“That’s why we go overland.”
“You plan to break through with Kim Yusin’s help? What if he figures out we’re heading to Baekje?”
“I’ll tell him upfront. And even if I don’t, he’ll know.”
“True. Getting caught hiding it would make things messy.”
“This could really be dangerous. You still coming with me?”
“I’ll share life and death with you, my lord.”
Seeing Go Jeong-ui clench his fists with resolve made me laugh.
The delegation’s departure was set for next spring, but the days after were still a whirlwind. Father Yeon Gaesomun agreed to watch and wait as I suggested, giving me a brief respite. But I knew the real conflicts and power plays were just beginning, and my head throbbed at the thought. Mass production and deployment of the weapons we were preparing demanded attention now. I had to look after my growing circle of aides, and with the Battle of Nihaseong, history itself would shift—I needed to plan for that too. So every day, I met with my aides, organized documents, and gathered intelligence. Father’s recommended Dosuryu and Geumryu proved skilled; I obtained most of the info I needed. To sharpen my image, I decided to grow a kaiser mustache like the Goguryeo warriors in the Samsil Tomb murals. In 21st-century Korea, growing a beard was rare. But in 7th-century Goguryeo, without razors or shaving cream, not having one would’ve been odd. On the day the first snow fell, Seon Do-hae arrived at Bin Yeongeok for a report and flattered me about it.
“It suits you perfectly, my lord.”
“Skip the empty praise and show me the report.”
It was late autumn, so a brazier warmed Bin Yeongeok. Seon Do-hae wore a leather vest-like garment.
“Here it is. From this report on, I’ve included market prices inside Changanseong.”
Seon Do-hae proved his genius by mastering Hangul quickly. The reports now resembled modern ones, easy to read.
“Grain prices keep rising as winter hits.”
“This is the peak season for high prices.”
“Is there a law to keep prices from spiking too much?”
“The Market Tax Bureau oversees it, but when prices soar, there’s little they can do.”
“Plenty must be profiting off this.”
“Anyone not cashing in would be a fool. Most have nobles backing them, so low-level offices like the Market Tax Bureau can’t touch them.”
The thought hit me: same as ever, past or present. I couldn’t fix it immediately, but it was a long-term issue that needed addressing.
‘Forcing prices down would just drive it to black markets at even higher rates, right?’
The best way was like Korea’s government buying and selling grain. Goguryeo had something similar: the Jindae Law, proposed by Prime Minister Eulpa-so during King Gogukcheon’s reign. Lend grain to the poor in spring, collect repayment after the autumn harvest. But investigations showed it had become a sham—officials embezzled, oversight lapsed, and it ground to a halt. Seeing me lost in thought, Seon Do-hae ventured carefully.
“Are you thinking of helping the poor?”
“A nation grows strong only when its people aren’t starving and living well.”
“True, but it’s surprising you’d care when no one else does.”
“We have to at least keep them fed. The bare minimum.”
Seon Do-hae nodded but still seemed puzzled.
‘Of course.’
Korea and Goguryeo differed vastly, especially on welfare. Coming from a world where the state bore some responsibility for citizens’ lives, I couldn’t fathom their indifference to starvation.
“That doesn’t mean I can step in myself.”
“You must be cautious, my lord.”
Seon Do-hae, usually so perceptive, spoke bluntly.
That was the biggest hurdle. I wielded great power but wasn’t a ruler. As mere Deputy Commander, I held no policy-making sway.
“Still, planning ahead isn’t a bad idea.”
“Pardon?”
I asked the startled Seon Do-hae.
“Suppose the state built massive granaries and bought up people’s grain. What then?”
“Bought it up?”
“Yes. Then, when rice prices spike in winter or spring, sell the stored grain cheaply.”
I simplified Korea’s Nonghyup rice purchasing. Seon Do-hae, hesitant at first, spoke up.
“Better than the Jindae Law, at least. It’d make it harder for merchants to hoard and jack up prices.”
“I’ll suggest it to the Great King.”
“He won’t listen.”
“Why? It’s a good plan.”
“As I said, nobles back the merchants. Surely some have ties to the Great King?”
The cool, political Seon Do-hae laid out reality plain. In games, a few button presses sufficed; reality didn’t work that way.
“You’re right.”
I sighed, deflated. Seon Do-hae smiled.
“Still, you never know. I’ll compile it properly.”
“Good. And while you’re at it, organize land records too.”
“Land?”
“Yes. Current owners, how it’s traded, what regions grow what and how.”
It was distant future talk, but land reform loomed in my mind. If nobles monopolized the land, the people couldn’t thrive. Reading my intent, Seon Do-hae slowly agreed to try. I’d use Go Jeong-ui and Go Yeonmu like strategists from Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and Seon Do-hae as my policy brain. Then Seon Do-hae blurted out.
“I heard you’re going to Baekje next year.”
“Probably.”
“Could you take me along?”
“It’ll be dangerous. No joke.”
Just deciding on ships had given me headaches and nausea—danger lurked. Overland meant crossing Silla territory; even without sabotage, risks abounded. But Seon Do-hae shrugged it off.
“I’ve always wanted to accompany you once. Please allow it.”
His earnest plea swayed me. I’d been agonizing over dragging Go Jeong-ui along again.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you.”
Seon Do-hae beamed. Watching him sparked an idea.
“And one more crucial task for you.”
“Yes?”
“I plan to station communications agents in Baekje, Silla, and Wa. You’ll manage them.”
“Communications agents?”
The idea stemmed from the Empire’s Ikmunsa, credited to Emperor Gojong—a spy network posing as a communications office. Brilliant, since reporters and spies are a hair’s breadth apart.
“They stay in one place, gathering local intel.”
007 worked in modern times, but here I explained carefully. Luckily, Seon Do-hae grasped it fast.
“Spies, you mean. We already have those.”
As he said, the three kingdoms constantly sent spies amid endless wars. Goguryeo alone sent the spy Deok-ri to scout Tang Taizong’s camp later. And in Seorabeol, the monk Deokchang was likely active.
“I want regular intel flows. Like how you report Changanseong’s details to me.”
“Stationed in one spot?”
“Yes. Spies target nobles and officials; agents will focus on commoners and low-level bureaucrats.”
Seon Do-hae crossed his arms, his gold earring tinkling. After a moment’s thought, he asked.
“Nobles and kings move nations. Why listen to petty officials or commoners?”