Omens of the Prologue - 3

The corners of my eyes had gone a touch damp, but as long as nothing was wrong, that was all I could ask. I pointed at the cart piled high with Fasting Pills.

"The precautions for taking the Fasting Pill read as follows: practice qi-circulation breathing after expending internal energy each day."

"Hm... that much won't be hard."

"And you must not take any other food."

Hong Ryeon tilted her head, eyes rounding. But this was the one thing I couldn't yield on, so I stayed unmoved.

"These Fasting Pills are slated for sale to the Daoist sects later on, you see. Among the adepts of somewhere like the Wudang Sect, there are those who abstain from cooked food entirely."

"I see..."

"This trial also serves to confirm whether one can live on the Fasting Pills alone. You know as well as I do — they say Daoist-lineage martial arts can't build pure, refined qi the more one eats cooked food."

A nod. Apparently she knew that part too, for she raised no objection.

"The Hongseong Divine Art may not work that way, but even so — you're aware that staying on a pill-only diet purifies the blood and refines the qi, aren't you? And it's only for about a month. I'd ask for your understanding on that front. If it's too much to demand, feel free to refuse."

"Ah — no. Refuse? Not a chance. Got it. It works out anyway, since the kids are in the middle of intensive training. I'll explain it to them properly."

"I'd rather hear no complaints. I'll say it again: once all of this is over, I'm throwing a feast worthy of the occasion, so I'll be counting on you."

At my smile, Hong Ryeon froze for an instant. Then she let out a long breath and slipped her gaze away.

"Th-then I'm off on patrol. We'll talk about the rest later."

And with that she hopped up from her seat and was gone. The moment she vanished from the inn, I laughed.

Good. That should put the poisoning question mostly to rest. I couldn't relax completely, of course — but at least now I could prepare for it.

"Hm. So that young woman is the Sun-Falling Sword? I'd heard the stories... but she's quite skilled indeed. Such a commanding presence — the name is no idle boast."

Just then, Gi Noya emerged from the inner room. Strolling over with his beard stroked in no particular hurry, he spied the jars set out before me and knitted his brows.

"Tsk. So this dreadful thing has finally gone out into the world."

"Haha. You know of it too, Elder Noya?"

"Know it? The only souls alive who could grin while swallowing something this disgustingly foul are the lunatics of the martial world. Speaking of which... now that I'm actually here just idling and feasting, I feel rather ashamed of myself. If it's no trouble, might you find me some little task to pass the time?"

"You're welcome to rest as long as you like, Elder."

"Sitting about with nothing but that tight-lipped stump for company wears thin... am I wrong?"

He snapped his fingers and grinned wide.

"I hear from the inn staff that you've taken up martial training, Master Yu. Shall I teach you a move or two?"

I could barely keep up with learning Chae Family Tai Chi Chuan as it was — just what did he take me for?

When I shook my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head, he looked terribly disappointed, then gave a resigned nod.

"If you'd rather not, so be it. Then..."

"If it's no trouble, might I ask you to join the patrols? There've been some ominous rumors of late, and plenty of people are worried."

"Oh, patrol. Now that suits me fine. Between me and that stuffy old gatepost, we could fly to Mount Hongseong and back in no time. And with the Moonlight Blade at your side, Master Yu, escort duty won't be an issue either."

Gi Noya laughed in high good humor and ambled out the door with Wi Yeol in tow — and the moment they stepped outside, both figures vanished like the wind. Lightfoot art, perhaps?

In any case, the stones for the game against the Iron Blood Dan were being set upon the board, one by one.

If only they all held when the time came...

Like the sun rising whether or not you wrung a chicken's neck, the Iron Blood Dan's coming did nothing to lighten my workload. No — it only grew. Several other merchants, having glimpsed the unease in the movements of the Gohwa Dan and the Jugyeong Dae, had come slinking around with schemes to buy up not only this season's barley harvest but my properties across Seomhwachon as well.

No one scents a crisis faster than a merchant. To them, a crisis is itself a chance to make money.

If bandits attacked a village, they would plunder everything of value or burn it to the ground. Faced with losses that ruinous, there were always some who sold their holdings off cheap and fled, just in case. Of course, if the attack never came they'd eat a heavy loss — but if it truly did come, swift liquidation and a swift flight would save both fortune and life.

A gamble, in other words.

But since I intended to stop any such attack outright, all I could offer their little schemes was a disdainful snort. Granted, at my reaction they resorted to talk that skirted outright threats — but my cudgel knew exactly how to answer that.

And so, from such odds and ends, to the matters I needed to arrange with the magistrate separately, to drawing up patrol routes for the three masters lodging at the inn — Chae Jin among them — to planning a festival to soothe the people of Seomhwachon, who sensed the unsettled air and were growing anxious alongside their village chief, there was no shortage of work, one way or another.

I buried myself in the mounting duties among the towers of paperwork, and by the time the sun was sinking low, a knock sounded at my door.

"Come in," I said, eyes still on the documents. Footsteps followed a moment later — but no voice came with them. What was this about? Another merchant? Someone from Hongseong Sect? The magistrate's office? The village chief, perhaps?

Without lifting my gaze, I spoke as I always did. "Report."

Having tossed out the word, I dove back into the papers. It was a petition from a few villagers who'd scented the danger and were settling their affairs to move to Yangwi Fortress — they wanted to know if I would buy their land. The yield was decent, so there'd be no harm in holding onto it. The patch of wasteland mixed in was a bit of an eyesore, but there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was a stream nearby and a well on the property... well, clearing it for cultivation wouldn't be hard.

I finished with that document, then set to puzzling out a compromise for a water-rights dispute among the tenant farmers, penning the arbitration — and only then did it strike me that the servant who'd entered hadn't uttered a single word.

Something about that felt off, and I raised my head — to find Hong Ryeon staring blankly at me.

"Oh. I-I'm back from patrol."

"Oh dear."

Was it the sunset light slanting through the window? Her face was red.

"My mistake."

I rose from my seat and gestured to a chair. I was about to call for tea, but Hong Ryeon quickly stopped me.

"No — I'll just rest a moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and be on my way."

"If you'd like to rest, I'll let the people downstairs know. Have something to eat, at least..."

"I-I was just going to sit here for a bit... Ah! C-can I drink this water?"

"Of course."

"...You're busy. Go ahead and work."

"Hmm... then I'll just finish this one document."

The magistrate's office had asked whether I'd consider building a dedicated sword workshop — a forge devoted to crafting equipment. Seomhwachon did have a smithy, but its work was nothing to write home about. Not that it could be helped: Seomhwachon was a starting area that ceased to exist the moment Part One ended, so it stood to reason it couldn't produce quality gear.

Among those the magistrate had come to know back in his army days was a master craftsman, and it happened he was now in a position to extend an invitation. But with no suitable site to be had, the question was whether I might lend my support...

A forge of that kind needed to sit a little apart from the bustling district, and as it happened I owned a perfectly serviceable plot. The magistrate had clearly been eyeing it all along, and I had no particular reason to refuse — so I pressed my seal to the paper.

"Done."

"Oh... oh. Right. Yes. Guess I really was focused, huh? What was it about?"

"Nothing much. The magistrate wants to build a sword forge and asked for my help securing a plot of land."

"Ooh. Then does that mean we could finally get some proper weapons made of our own— oh?"

"Well... it's not impossible."

But that was a matter for after we survived the Iron Blood Dan's assault. If we failed that... it was agonizing just to imagine.

The mere thought set my insides smoldering, and before I knew it my hand had gone to my pipe.

"Ah. That pipe."

"The one you gave me. By the way, Miss Hong — did you carve this yourself?"

A nod. Lit by the sunset glow, her face still flushed, Hong Ryeon dipped her head slightly. What shone in her eyes was expectation. Come to think of it, I'd accepted the gift without saying one word about it. I gave the pipe her gaze clung to a light swirl and brought it to my lips.

"Ah—"

"I've been treasuring it. Thank you. You have a steadier hand than I gave you credit for."

Maybe I should simply leave the pattern designs for the sachet pouches to her when I make them later? She seems rather gifted at this sort of thing.

"...Th-thank... you."

"Don't mention it."

Hong Ryeon watched me set the pipe between my teeth for a long, still moment — then abruptly shot to her feet.

Was it time for her to head back?

The moment I rose to see her out, she frantically waved her hands.

"No! Don't get up!"

"Still, I should at least walk you..."

"I'm really fine. You're busy, aren't you?"

If she insisted that much, there was nothing for it. Sitting back down, I addressed the fidgeting Hong Ryeon.

"Then at least take some dang-gwa sweets from downstairs with you."

"...Okay. I'll enjoy them."

She looked somehow off-color. Could she be poisoned already? No — her expression didn't say so...

The same woman who would have refused outright on any ordinary day answered in a fluster and whisked herself downstairs. A glance out the window showed her leaving empty-handed — apparently too embarrassed to turn down my offer, she was simply going to pretend she'd never heard it. Then she stopped short and looked back this way. Our eyes met, and I gave her a wave.

Had she been caught out for not taking the dang-gwa?

Frozen mid-turn, staring at me blankly, she hesitated — then waved back and sped off into the distance, lightfoot art and all.

Tsk. I'd have some sent over later.

I lit my tobacco and bent back to work. A few more tasks later, it was just about time for my Five Animal Frolics — I'd gone down and was partway through them when—

"I'm baaack~!"

Chae Jin came bounding over, beaming ear to ear, patrol rounds complete. Apparently ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she hadn't crossed paths with Gi Noya, Wi Yeol, or Hong Ryeon out there.

Well, of course not — I'd assigned Chae Jin the village outskirts, Hong Ryeon the village interior and the roads, and Gi Noya the Mount Hongseong side.

All the better, really. If they'd met, it would have been nothing but squabbling. Hong Ryeon and Chae Jin were both masters neither could afford to dismiss — a clash between them would do nothing but bleed strength.

And so! With that, every single condition for the route to Hongseong Sect's happy ending — the route uncovered by the collective brainpower of all those with nothing to do during the no-event lull — had been fulfilled!!

Imperial elite soldiers, armed with brand-new equipment from the Cheonghoe Merchant Guild — soldiers who could hold their own against the Demonic Cult's faithful!

Two renowned masters of the imperial military!

And on top of that, the Moonlight Blade herself, Chae Jin!

Hongseong Sect disciples far stronger than ever before!

The risk of poison spreading through Hongseong Sect had been eliminated — and if the sect managed a few more things on top of that?

According to my research, at this level they could repel the Iron Blood Dan's attack without grievous loss — and with any luck, they might even take captive the Iron Blood Water Emperor, the executive behind this very assault.

Good.

Bring it on. Bring it on.

I'd chew you up and swallow you, bones and all.

When had her heart first begun to feel as though it had broken?

Perhaps this morning. If not, then yesterday.

No.

Perhaps it went back to the day her master announced she would teach the other disciples.

Yes. Her heart must have broken that very day — the day she learned that, while she received her master's personal instruction, she would have to shoulder the duties the other disciples had been covering in her place.

Patrolling Seomhwachon — the duty Hongseong Sect had assigned her not long ago. To be sure, as a member of an orthodox sect, and of Hongseong Sect, long bound to Seomhwachon by ties of old, supporting the village's patrols was no difficult thing. The Dao was to be found everywhere, and enlightenment could be won as readily on patrol as anywhere else; the rounds had never weighed on Hong Ryeon.

And yet her heart had begun to race — perhaps because the one place her patrol inevitably carried her was that place.

She must not be conscious of it. Must not dwell on it.

But how could she not?

Trudging along with the heart she'd only barely steadied, she would arrive before the inn — and the instant she saw him, giving swift, practiced orders to the staff with that gruff face of his, her heart would break down all over again.

Keep calm. Yes, he was an adult she could respect. Even so — keep calm.

Somehow smothering the tumult enough to exchange words with him, she would rush through her rounds hoping to quiet a heart that raged past all bearing — and still the wretched thing refused to behave, leaping about like a madwoman on a seesaw.

Ah. What was she to do?

Truthfully, she knew the answer.

That night. Ever since the night she first became conscious of him — the night the Demonic Cult attacked — her heart had been telling her all along. She had simply averted her eyes and pretended not to hear.

Having deliberately turned her face from that voice, she had nonetheless, the moment her rounds ended, failed to resist any longer and gone to find him — to demand of him: if you're the one who broke this heart, shouldn't you be the one to mend it?

And then she lost her words. No — she forgot to breathe.

Because he had, with a single glance, brought her maddened, careening heart to a dead stop — exactly the way she wanted.

Lingering in the room was the bitter, heavy scent of tobacco, and over it the fragrance men commonly wore to mask such things. Woven in with them, the natural scent of a man; the smell of ink and paper that clung to those absorbed in their work. A whole medley of scents blended just so — and to her, it was a fragrance at once terribly alluring and utterly lethal.

And at the center of it all stood a man.

His face, dark against the sunset at his back, was etched with the shadow of a grown man. His sleeves rolled back, his arms were thick; his broad hands held a sheaf of documents. Eyes blazing like flame paid no heed to her who had entered, fixed solely on the papers.

Ah. If only he would look this way. If only those eyes would gaze at me.

Gooseflesh prickled over her at the murmuring of her stalled heart. What on earth are you saying? I'm not that kind of person with Innkeeper Yu — please, just be quiet.

The moment she desperately pleaded with it in her mind — as though he had overheard the whole exchange — he lifted his head.

He looked her way, precisely as her aching heart desired.

In that instant, the stalled heart began to beat again. Faster than before. So madly that her reason could no longer hold the reins.

She couldn't remember a word of the conversation that followed. Only one thought remained: hurry home, and pull herself together.

So it was that Hong Ryeon came scrambling back to the sect, gasping for breath — and her lovely martial sisters came up to meet her.

"Mm — did everyone train well today?"

Having greeted them through a strained smile, Hong Ryeon sensed that something was wrong. Ryu Hyeon's expression was grim.

Just as she puzzled over it, her master approached and delivered a single, matter-of-fact line.

"Sa Yun's 'Uncle' has sent a letter."

Then isn't that a good thing? So why does everyone look like this?

Bewildered, Hong Ryeon followed her master, Ryu Hyeon, and Sa Yun to their room. And there, when she read the letter Sa Yun held out with a worried face, she bit her lip.

The letter from the 'Uncle' who had given Hongseong Sect so much help...

...carried a warning of the crisis soon to engulf Hongseong Sect.