Grain
On a hill overlooking the manor of the Gwak family of Surye-gwak.
Though it was summer, once the sun sank, the wind that rose beyond the grasslands went past cool and carried a chill that raised the skin.
A figure lying flat among the tall brush, watching the manor, gave a soft birdcall.
"Movement confirmed at the manor."
The sound transmission rode that warning birdcall. The officer in charge, concealed nearby and taking a brief rest, lifted his head.
"…The torches are moving."
He sharpened his sight. Far off, even the dull gleam of dark leather armor catching the ruddy torchlight resolved with perfect clarity.
"Regulars. General Gwak's men."
"…Right on schedule."
Only after the officer confirmed that even the servants were pouring out of the manor did he give two birdcalls, pass hand signals into the empty air for those around him, and send the transmission.
"Withdraw."
It was a precaution for anyone the sound transmission might not have reached cleanly.
Rustle. Rustle.
From brush that had looked empty, several figures rose. Thick outer coats woven with grass had kept them invisible.
"Our camouflage was perfect."
"General Gwak's rearguard never spotted us either."
Ordinary soldiers, low-ranking officers, or the manor's own guards could never have found them.
"Then…"
"It went exactly as planned."
They withdrew the opposite way with uncommon agility, erasing their traces as if by habit.
"In a place like this, outsiders were always going to stand out somehow."
They were, without a doubt, the ones the head of the Gwak family had spoken of—the ones who had tailed General Gwak.
"……."
And last of all, while his comrades wiped the trail clean, the officer in charge drew a crossbow from his back, finished checking it, and loosed a bolt straight at the manor.
Ssiiing—!
A whistling arrow—a myeongjeok, also called a hyosi—cut the air with a long, keening cry.
"-----!"
"---!"
In the distance, Gwak troops who mistook it for an attack signal flung themselves every which way and scattered.
"Good."
The officer broke down the crossbow at once and flung out a transmission.
"All units, scatter as planned. Rendezvous at Contact Point Gap."
They traded nods and glances.
"Fortune favor you."
"And you."
Some launched into lightfoot and ran full out. Some mounted the horses they had tethered and rode. Some crawled deeper into the brush and vanished.
A little later.
"Right side!"
Horses snorted and took a corner of the alley at speed. Their riders were the same men who had withdrawn from the hill near the Gwak manor.
"Left at the next corner!"
"Whoa—!"
A townsman who had stepped into the alley to relieve himself toppled backward and barely avoided the horses.
"Don't stop! He only fell!"
"Thank the heavens…!"
Even as they confirmed they had not struck anyone, the riders could not afford to ease their pace.
"There!"
The man in the lead spotted two strips of red cloth whipping under the eaves of an inn, where they had been tied.
"Jump!"
There was no time to slow. They flung themselves from the saddles and dropped into heaps of straw prepared for the purpose.
"Through the hole!"
Crawling out through a gap under the fence from inside the straw, they were spotted by a knot of people moving frantically about the inn yard.
"Cloud!"
"Sea!"
"Confirmed!"
Once the countersign verified their identities, the women hurriedly thrust clothing into their hands. Caring nothing for who might see, the men stripped off everything they wore in the middle of the yard and changed into the new clothes on the spot.
"Hurry! Double-check the knots on the loads!"
"Final inspection underway!"
Everyone was already racing about; no one had time to watch them.
"And the other comrades?"
A middle-aged man in silk nodded quickly at the question.
"You are the last!"
In the middle of that brief exchange—
"This way, boy!"
"Hya! Hya!"
—servants who had recovered the horses rode into the yard, soothed the animals with practiced ease, and hitched them to the cargo wagons.
"Ready?"
"Finished!"
"Move out!"
Wagons piled high with goods rolled. Porters followed with backs bent under loads of their own, and once the torches were lit bright, the martial artists who had changed clothes sat astride the wagons or took seats beside the coachmen. They looked for all the world like an ordinary merchant caravan.
"…And the inn?"
As the column left the alley, a martial artist glanced back at the receding inn.
"Can they be trusted?"
"You need not worry in the slightest."
The caravan master—the silk-clad middle-aged man seated inside the carriage—gave a firm nod.
"They are faithful believers, utterly devoted to the doctrine."
"The Medicine Fairy's teaching has reached even this far north?"
"Is there any corner of Zhongyuan that has not known Her grace?"
The martial artist clicked his tongue.
"…From time to time, Jaewon's organizational reach still makes my skin crawl."
The caravan master, himself a member of Jaewon, shrugged.
"I agree."
The martial artist gave a dry laugh.
"You're not supposed to agree when you say it."
The caravan master smiled.
"In the beginning, Jaewon grew out of the Medicine Fairy's shrines raised across Zhongyuan. The faithful who sought Her grace were its foundation."
"True enough."
"It was large, but hollow—no real substance. But now…"
Even as he spoke, his eyes never stopped moving, checking the column without rest.
"Since the Eldest Young Master began to move in earnest, that has been changing."
"Indeed."
Smoke from the martial artist's tobacco trailed away behind the carriage.
"Vast sums have begun to circulate through the hands of the ladies of Daseonrang, and the branches nationwide are knitting together at a startling pace. And more than that…"
The caravan master's gaze turned toward the martial artist.
"With the heroes of Luoyang's Spring joining us, even work like this has become possible."
The hero of Luoyang's Spring tapped ash from his pipe and showed a dry smile.
"…This is about the only trick we have left, after all."
"Only?"
The caravan master waved a hand.
"You are the ones who operated for years in Luoyang's shadows, and who, at the last, fought the Third Young Master's side to a hard-won draw. Do not belittle that."
Luoyang's Spring had, over many years and in the form of a secret society, survived in a Luoyang ruled by the Luoyang Sword House. That golden store of experience and craft was now being carefully passed on to Jaewon.
"…We only—"
The hero looked aside, as if embarrassed, and scratched the bridge of his nose.
"—struggled to live rightly. That is all."
The caravan master smiled.
"That, for our part, is the same."
Their conversation ended there.
"Halt! Halt!"
At the city gate, a body of troops barred their way.
"This does not look ordinary."
Bows were leveled as one from the wall above. Soldiers poured out and leveled spears at Jaewon's merchant column.
"Look over there."
"…Hmm."
Spotting an officer in black leather among them, the hero of Luoyang's Spring gave a low sound of unease and sent a transmission to the caravan master.
"One of General Gwak's officers. Their response is faster than we expected."
He traded looks with his comrades, clicked his tongue, and quietly rested a hand on his sword hilt.
"If anything breaks, stay inside the carriage and wait for us to finish it."
He was about to draw first when someone pressed his hand back down.
"Good heavens!"
It was the caravan master, thrusting half his body from the carriage.
"What is the meaning of all this?!"
"What are you doing?!"
He winked one eye at the hero, who was frantically sending a transmission.
"A blockade order has just come down for every gate," said the gate captain, a man with a hard, unyielding face, as he approached the caravan master. "Disarm completely and submit to inspection."
The hero clicked his tongue and started forward again before the captain's iron front—when a shout cut across them from the far side.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
A man who looked like an official came galloping with soldiers in tow.
"Open that gate at once!"
"We are under orders from military command—"
"Command be damned! This is by order of His Excellency the Governor! Let that caravan through!"
"But this post is under the army, not the governor's office—"
The queue-haired official did not even dismount. He bellowed.
"Does a mere gate captain mean to ignore the Governor's command?!"
"……."
The captain, who had seemed carved of wood and stone, turned and ordered his men.
"Open the gate!"
"What in the blazes are you doing?!"
General Gwak's officer on the wall nearly leapt out of his skin.
"You mean to defy the General's order?!"
"But—"
While the captain and the officer raised their voices, the gate already stood wide.
"Move out!"
The caravan slipped quickly between the frozen ranks of soldiers and through the gate.
"……."
From the receding wall, the caravan master met the eyes of the gate captain still arguing with General Gwak's officer—and nodded. Astonishingly, the captain gave a slight answering nod in return.
"Huh…"
The hero who had once belonged to Luoyang's Spring let out a hollow laugh.
"That gate captain. He was in on it from the start?"
"He is one of the faithful."
"……!"
From the beginning, the caravan had secured its escape route through a gate whose captain was a believer.
"In this world there are those whose hearts are full of goodwill and faith, yet who lack just a little courage."
He took the tobacco the hero offered and winked once more.
"To set such people in motion, all you need is the barest scrap of justification."
Something in that answer struck the hero as familiar. He cocked his head.
"By any chance… among Luoyang's merchant houses, have you heard of one called Hwalro—the Path of Life?"
Hwalro was the name of the organization that had aided the heroes of Luoyang's Spring when they fled the city.
"Oho!"
The caravan master broke into a broad grin.
"Zhongyuan's first and finest specialists in escape—beginning in Luoyang and now far beyond! That is precisely our Hwalro Merchant Group!"
The hero burst into a helpless, open laugh.
"…So you were Hwalro as well."
"I was!"
The caravan master laughed.
"Our Hwalro Merchant Group is expanding across Zhongyuan alongside Jaewon!"
The House of Gwak.
"See it for yourself."
The head of the Gwak family passed over a crumpled sheet with a hand mottled in age spots. It was the letter that had been found bound to the whistling arrow lodged in the outer wall of the manor.
"……."
General Gwak spread the paper wide. A single line was written there.
"I am watching."
The hand could only be called that of a master calligrapher.
"It is the Eldest Young Master's writing."
"……."
Having once exchanged letters with him long ago, the head of the Gwak family could not fail to know that hand.
"This worthless posturing…"
Watching the letter crumple in General Gwak's fist, the family head spoke.
"Do you still not understand?"
"…Understand what?"
The old man clicked his tongue, as if vexed by his less-than-clever son.
"The Eldest Young Master went so far as to set men on you—though everyone knows where you live—had you followed all the way home, and then sent this letter."
He sighed, took the long-stemmed pipe from his mouth, and tapped it in his hand.
"And even with the gates sealed and a pursuit underway, there has been no report of finding their trail. Has there?"
He shook his head.
"You will never catch them."
"This is nothing but the arrogant Young Master's empty display of—"
"—Why."
The family head cut him off.
"Why would the Eldest Young Master choose such a troublesome method at all?"
"…That is—"
When his son could find no answer and his mouth closed, the family head spoke for him.
"He is showing the House of Gwak."
His gaunt finger pointed at the floor.
"That even here, in this far northern land that is as good as our own domain, he commands an organization capable of making sport of us."
"……."
He clicked his tongue once more at his speechless son and shouted toward the outside.
"Is there still no word?!"
"My lord!"
A subordinate rushed in, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head.
"News just arrived! A merchant column passed the North Gate under orders issued by the Governor's office!"
"…So it is true. The Eldest Young Master's hand reaches even the Governor."
He drew smoke from the long pipe, ordered his thoughts, and asked,
"What was that caravan hauling?"
"Ah—that… I will confirm at once!"
The man hurried out, checked, and returned.
"Rice, wheat, soybeans, and mixed grains, my lord!"
"Food?"
"Yes, my lord!"
The head of the Gwak family wore an expression of sheer disbelief.
"So the Eldest Young Master has already secured grain on his own—without any need of the House of Gwak."
The cargo that caravan had carried was part of the very provisions Daseonrang had reported secured to the Eldest Young Master that same day.
"Just how long…"
The family head knocked out his pipe and turned his eyes to the window.
"…has the Eldest Young Master been preparing for this?"
Beyond the glass, the night sky was as deep and dark as the Young Master's designs—beyond all measuring.