There Are Many Hills Yet to Cross - 4
Several days had passed since Hongseong Gate came under attack. The tension that had gripped Seomhwachon was finally thinning, and today—the day after Gi Noya and Wi Yeol departed—a junior courier of the Courier Gate arrived carrying a box that would gladden anyone who received it.
It had been sent by Sa Yun.
When I took the box and opened it, I found a letter penned in a round, cuddly hand, along with a small sealed box.
I unfolded the letter first thing.
Before anything else, I must begin with words of thanks.
Thank you.
Thanks to you, Uncle, Hongseong Gate was truly able to weather its crisis safe and sound.
The Iron Blood Dan who attacked Hongseong Gate a while ago were terrifyingly strong—just as you worried they might be, Uncle. Even the senior disciples, who have been through real battle more times than I can count, said they broke out in cold sweat again and again.
Of course, there were plenty of moments when I was in danger too. If it weren't for you, Uncle, I don't think I would even be able to send this letter.
Really. Not just me—all the senior disciples say they want to offer you their thanks as well. So they're preparing a gift of some sort to send you, and I sincerely hope it pleases you. Naturally, I'm preparing something of my own too.
That said, it's nothing expensive or precious enough to truly win your heart... but if you'll simply think of it as the fruit of our sincerity, I would be very grateful.
Ahaha. Honestly, I wish I could give you only rare and wonderful things... Once I'm grown and taking on missions, and earning good money going around the secret realms, I definitely want to send you something expensive, separately.
The Iron Blood Dan—I mentioned them before, didn't I. Thinking back on it, they truly were dreadful. The monsters summoned by that Iron Blood Water Emperor were one thing, but so were their combined assaults and the martial arts of each individual fighter. Amid moments where life and death hung in the balance, some of the senior disciples even attained enlightenment.
Sadly, I gained nothing of the sort—but then again, didn't I gain the greatest thing of all? The safety of my master and the senior disciples. Everyone came through the crisis without grave injury, and that alone leaves me truly content.
Yesterday, Senior Sister Ryu Hyeon wondered whether you might be some kind of guardian deity of Hongseong, Uncle. She proposed that we pour out liquor before the newly built training hall and pray for your blessing and good fortune. So all of us disciples gathered together and prayed. Hehe. Could that be why? I find myself missing you too, Uncle.
Even though I've never once met you.
Since that attack ended, Hongseong Gate has been quite peaceful. I pray with all my heart that this peace endures.
And I pray for peace, good fortune, happiness, and well-being for you as well, Uncle!!
P.S.
What I've sent along with this letter is the first sachet I have ever made. I dried the very best Thousand-Day Plum Blossoms—chosen one by one—with all my care, and gathered their fragrance to make it.
And the embroidery on the pouch is... um. Embarrassing as it is to admit, I did it myself. To be honest, it was my first time attempting any embroidery, so it falls far short.
Still, as it is the very first thing I've ever made, I hope it will make you happy.
Hmm. Is that greedy of me?
I worry it won't be to your taste. It's a crude thing made with clumsy hands, but I pray with all my heart that you will like it, Uncle.
Clumsy and crude, my foot.
I squirmed where I sat, overcome.
I hurried to open the small box, and there, nestled demurely inside, lay one of the sachets Hongseong Gate had begun producing. The pouch was made of red-dyed cloth and—though she'd insisted otherwise—bore an embroidery of surprising delicacy: the Hongseong Gate emblem, shaped from the heavenly bodies and stars.
And on its back, stitched in with every careful stitch, was a design quite familiar to me—the sun, moon, and stars, Sa Yun's personal emblem from Cheonsang Myeongwol.
Having confirmed as much, I brought my nose to the pouch without even loosening the sachet's seal. Through the cloth, the fragrance of fine Thousand-Day Plum Blossoms seeped out and tickled my nose.
Ahh. This was nice... truly nice.
Having enjoyed the scent without even opening the pouch, I promptly sealed the sachet back inside its box, lest any of the fragrance escape. The next time something weighed on my heart, I decided, I would take it out and breathe it in.
I placed the sachet and letter into the box kept under strict guard at the back of my safe. As the letters and keepsakes filling it multiplied, so did the quiet fullness in my chest.
I carried the box out and set it on my desk. Then, sipping at the Cheon-il Plum Blossom Tea Sa Yun had sent, I reread every letter she had written me so far. Merely reading her words made the fatigue drain right out of me.
I finished a cup of tea, tamped and lit my pipe, read the letters yet again—and just as I was settling my heart into peace...
"My lord. Someone has come from Hongseong Gate."
"Ah. Right."
It was the servant calling.
Was it already that late? I returned everything to the safe and headed downstairs.
Waiting for me was none other than Hong Ryeon.
Thank goodness for small mercies—Chae Jin had stepped out for a little while. No, wait. Would it even matter if they crossed paths? The crisis of the Iron Blood Dan's assault had been overcome, after all.
Over the past few days I had commissioned the Ha-O Gate to map out the situation, and it was confirmed that events were unfolding along the very scenario we had predicted. There were a few stray variables, of course, but well within the margin of error—nothing worth losing sleep over.
Which meant it was about time to make good on the promised duel between Hong Ryeon and Chae Jin. Chae Jin had admitted with her own mouth that she was the weaker of the two, so the only question left was when to referee the match...
"...Why are you staring at me like that?"
"Ah—my manners. My apologies."
Lost in thoughts of the days ahead, I had been standing rooted to the spot ever since coming down; I shook my head and turned my gaze properly on the woman waiting for me.
Today, Hong Ryeon was not in her usual worn training robes. What she wore was a garment the Murim Alliance bestowed as a reward upon those who had rendered great service—a rather valuable outfit permitted even on official occasions.
The most fitting description would be a china dress bearing the Hongseong Gate emblem to proclaim her allegiance. A deep slit ran up one side, and the fabric clung tight to her frame—flattering her alluring figure and putting her long, sturdy legs on full display.
Take what Hong Ryeon had on right now: cinched hard at the waist to set off her slender middle against that ample chest, the slit flashing long white legs with every movement. Which was why the first people to lay eyes on this uniform had been struck dumb with shock. Why on earth, they demanded, would a formal dress uniform meant for official occasions look like this?
Only afterward, once they saw the garments other factions and sects handed their women as tokens of gratitude, did the verdict change: as it turned out, the Murim Alliance's uniform was the very soul of modesty and dignity—fit for the eldest daughter-in-law of a great house to wear. The power of contrast is a terrifying thing.
A long cape draped from her shoulders all the way to her ankles, and her crimson hair—ordinarily left to tumble loose—had been neatly arranged. Perhaps because of my unbroken stare, Hong Ryeon's face was turning nearly as red as that hair.
"...Is something wrong?"
"No. Nothing at all."
Come to think of it, there was nothing the least bit strange about her appearing in full dress. Had it not been the same when I met the Sword Saint? Unlike that first encounter, once we met properly on business, the Saint—who outranked me in both station and martial arts—had put on her seldom-worn Sect Master's regalia out of courtesy. It was no casual meeting, after all, but a formal one.
And here, too, Hong Ryeon had come not merely as Hongseong Gate's First Disciple, but representing the Gate in the Sword Saint's stead. In other words, this was—quite literally—an occasion of business: the formal delivery of the sachets Hongseong Gate had begun producing.
Look at the boxes stacked by the inn's entrance, or at Ryu Hyeon, currently issuing instructions to the servants—was she not in regulation Hongseong dress rather than her usual threadbare training clothes? However amicable my relationship with Hongseong Gate might be, they clearly wished it understood that business was business. Keeping public and private so scrupulously apart—admirable, truly admirable.
"My apologies. Shall we get to the matter at hand, then? How many sachets did you make?"
"A hundred, like we agreed."
"How long does the fragrance last?"
"Stored in a box somewhere cool, quite a while—at least a few years, I'd say. But if you keep taking it out to use it, or carry it around and wear it every day, three or four months, maybe? However special Hongseong's method of making them from Thousand-Day Plum Blossoms may be, we can't make them last forever."
Is that so? Good to hear. The one Sa Yun sent should keep well, then.
"That's more than enough for a consumable."
Not that I wanted forever anyway. A thing has to wear out before you can keep selling it.
"Hehe. Care to have a sniff?"
With that, Hong Ryeon held out a small box. Opening it, I found the same red cloth pouches I had seen before—and again only that morning. The pattern stitched into them was quite ornate, and beautiful: the Hongseong Gate emblem of stars and heavenly bodies. And at the last... a lotus flower.
...Hm? A lotus?
"Wasn't the original design only the Hongseong emblem?"
"...It was."
A faint flush rising, Hong Ryeon nodded. Then she tapped the sachet lightly and remarked, in a studied offhand way, her eyes elsewhere:
"You've given us so much, one way or another... so I had this one made just for you. When the fragrance runs out, say the word—I'll refill it as often as you like. Ah, and it's not only mine, before you get any ideas."
With that she pulled out other boxes from below, each holding more of the very same sachets.
"The others asked for their own made separately, with their personal patterns worked in. Call these special-order pieces. Hehe. The standard stock doesn't carry personal emblems."
So that was how it was. Among them, sure enough, was Sa Yun's own design—sun, moon, and stars.
"I never asked for anything like this."
"And we don't stick around you hoping for what you'll hand out, either. Besides, all but a few of them aren't sending you something for the first time, so don't let it weigh on you."
I can't win against this crowd.
When I accepted them graciously, Hong Ryeon finally broke into a grin.
"Also, I'd like you to wait a little longer on the medicinal herbs. That all right?"
"Of course. Although..."
I picked out one of the sachets. When I lifted the one embroidered rather more... distinctively than the rest, Hong Ryeon snapped her head away.
"And who made this one?"
By my paltry aesthetic sense, it looked even worse than Sa Yun's first-ever attempt at a needle...
"...My master."
So the problem wasn't aesthetic sense—it was sheer martial attainment.
"...It seems to hold some principle of the martial arts so precious I hardly dare look upon it directly. Don't the true masters pour their entire art into the simplest of things?"
Like a layman standing before a Picasso and understanding nothing at all.
The next time a genuine expert came around, I would have to show it to them. No—when I went to Cheongho, if I found myself visiting Moon Lotus Pavilion, perhaps I ought to show it to the Blade Emperor?
"...I appreciate you being so generous about it."
She forced the words out, awkward and sheepish; I gave a shrug.
Think nothing of it.
From there the conversation carried on through a great deal more—the payment for the goods, the sales routes, exclusive supply arrangements. Hong Ryeon, I had to admit, settled terms far more coolly and cleanly than the Sword Saint or Ryu Hyeon ever did.
"Isn't this deal rather heavily tilted toward Hongseong Gate?"
Of course it is. I'm hardly in this business to squeeze profit out of Hongseong Gate. There are places aplenty to make money.
In any case, Hong Ryeon was delighted by the sum—and visibly flustered by it.
"There's no telling when another mess like the Iron Blood Dan might spring up. So why not think of it as trimming down your outside commitments, and just accept it with a smile?"
"Hmm... still, the Murim Alliance inspector post is a difficult thing to set down just yet."
"I'm not asking you to set it down this instant. Hongseong Gate's standing within the Alliance has to be considered too. I only mean that for now, your weight is best placed on our side of the scale—wouldn't you say?"
She mulled it over for a long while, then nodded—apparently concluding that my reasoning was sound. After all, even that Murim Alliance inspector's hat had been donned for Hongseong Gate's sake.
Once she agreed, I tidied the documents and rose from my seat.
"It's a bit late for it, but if you haven't eaten, why don't we—"
Just then, a military officer hurried into the inn.
"Innkeeper! The Magistrate requests your presence urgently."
At the summons, Hong Ryeon gave a wry smile and rose.
"A shame, but the meal will have to wait. Besides, I already ate before coming down—and everyone's coming down together this evening anyway, aren't they? Let's eat then."
Come to think of it, I had invited them all to dinner tonight, in celebration of Hongseong Gate finishing its trial run of the Fasting Pill.
"Then I'll see you this evening. Ah, and one more thing."
I called out to stop her as she made for the door. When Hong Ryeon, her footsteps arrested, cautiously turned her head, I met her eyes squarely. When two people speak, they ought to do so looking at one another—and so, facing her large, faintly trembling eyes, I did not look away once.
"That outfit really does suit you."
".....Nnh!!"
Hong Ryeon, who had been standing there blankly, let out a short, strangled sound—then whirled on her heel and bolted out the door as if the hounds of hell were after her.
My, but she was fast.
"Innkeeper! We must hurry!"
"Understood."
I told the servants to store the delivered sachets with the utmost care. I intended to charge a handsome price for them. The quality had exceeded my expectations, and I was already toying with the idea of selling them in the Imperial Capital through the Cheonghoe Merchant Guild's connections. That city was made for things like fragrant sachets—there were plenty of high officials' noble madams with a taste for rare, handmade, limited-run premium specialties produced barely a hundred at a time.
Arriving at the government office with the officer, I found the Magistrate waiting on me with poorly concealed agitation. The moment he laid eyes on me, he asked in a rush:
"Innkeeper Yu. There is a favor I must ask of you... might you grant it?"
"If it's your request, Magistrate, I'll do my utmost. What is it?"
"I would like you to make a trip to Cheongho."
"As it happens, I have business that way and intended to leave at dawn tomorrow. But what seems to be the matter?"
Only then did he heave a sigh of relief.
"Haah... that works out splendidly, then. The truth is, an old comrade of mine lives over there. I would like you to talk him around and bring him back with you."
An old comrade, hm. Come to think of it, the Magistrate had mentioned before that he'd once served in the military on the front lines. But who could this be...
"A talisman master of real skill. The trouble is his temperament—eccentric, to put it kindly... Outside of you, Innkeeper, I can think of no one I'd trust with the task."
Ah. A skilled talisman master, personally vouched for by the Magistrate himself?
Then go I must. Good talismans were essential to crafting good equipment—and one had best lay in a supply well in advance.