Chapter 171
Chapter 171
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 171
Chapter Title: Rise and Fall
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Prosperity and decline.
Things prosper, then crumble. They thrive, then wither. Nations, built by gatherings of people, weaken with the passage of time. Just like a person growing old and frail.
China's Han Dynasty lasted about four hundred years. In Korea's case, Silla managed to hold on for roughly a thousand.
And now here I am...
King of a kingdom that's endured for nine hundred years. Assessing the current state of affairs coolly and objectively, I could sum it up in one phrase.
"Miracles like this actually happen?"
As far as I remember, the Republic of Korea faced nonstop social upheavals in the seventy years since gaining independence from Japan.
This place has lasted nine hundred years! No matter how hard they tried, that's more than ten times longer. Yet despite those endless centuries, Seonheon's national strength remains as vigorous as ever.
To put it in perspective, it's like an octogenarian who rock-climbs and plays squash for fun, benches five hundred kilos at the gym, and mocks frail young folks.
Of course, that doesn't mean the kingdom is flawless. To learn more, I skimmed through the books I'd had brought to my bedroom.
"It's a tangled mess."
Seonheon has an administrative system. It was established by Kim Chae-hyun, the Mugunghwa 1st Team Leader who became king after Seong Si-hoon. At its core, the central government operates under an Executive Office with eight ministries, each headed by a minister. Local administrative districts are divided into provinces, cities, counties, and townships.
'Is Kim Chae-hyun cozy with the government or something?'
It bears a striking resemblance to Korea's administrative structure, oddly blended with the Joseon Executive Office represented by the Three Ministers.
In any case, it's fair to say the central government isn't functioning properly at present.
The reason? Taebaek 1st Team Leader Kang Hoon, who reigned right before me. He ascended when the Executive Office held overwhelming authority. Most major national matters were decided there in consultation with the heads of each ministry.
"Taking down the Executive Office was a good move, but..."
Kang Hoon successfully dismantled the overly empowered Executive Office. The problem is that over the ninety years since, the decisions made in that process have twisted into something peculiar.
"Central Knight Order."
Originally, there were nine ministries under the Executive Office, one of which handled national defense.
But Kang Hoon outright pulled the Defense Ministry out from under the Executive Office, making it an independent entity called the Central Knight Order, directly controlled by the king.
In simple terms, he seized military command, placed it under his personal oversight, and used it to bolster his position and power.
Once he'd strengthened royal authority that way, he arranged for the eight ministry heads to report directly to the king during state affairs.
The Executive Office lingered on as a sort of advisory body.
"All well and good, but..."
Ninety years later, things have gone terribly awry. If I had to describe it, the Central Knight Order—created to weaken the Executive Office—has grown too powerful itself.
The Capital's Central Knight Order vies for control in the capital, while its thirty-seven subordinate knight orders are garrisoned across the regions, clashing with governors and mayors appointed by the king.
"Clashing, they call it."
Looking at the approval documents piling up, it seems the knight orders are gradually seizing the upper hand.
It evokes memories of Goryeo's military regime or Japan's shogunate. Or more precisely, that's what it might turn into given more time.
Right after my coronation, Gonsalok will come charging in. Smashing the military-structured Central Knight Order at this point is impossible.
Besides, we desperately need a strong army in this situation. And a strong army inevitably comes with strong authority.
"..."
But if things go even slightly wrong, I could end up as a mere mascot waving at ceremonies, while the real governance of the kingdom falls to the Central Knight Order Captain.
Still, that's minor compared to the worst-case scenario I'd imagined.
It doesn't seem headed that way.
Yet something nags at me, scraping at my nerves. A vague sense that I'm missing something. I can't quite pinpoint it, but it's incredibly unsettling.
As I pondered, my gaze drifted to the bed. Sitting on it brought up text before my eyes.
[You can adjust the rest period via the bedside calendar. Check it and sleep, and it'll auto-progress to that day.]
"Ten years, huh. No need to use that."
It's nothing. I've already lived thirty-five years in another world. What's another mere ten on top?
A bit unsettling, sure, but my immediate tasks are clear. Kang Hoon's leash on the Central Knight Order is off, so putting a new one on is priority one.
Economy, education, public safety—those can wait until the knight orders are leashed.
"Your Majesty, the Knight Order Captain has arrived."
I'd just finished breakfast and was still mulling in that lingering unease when a voice came from beyond the door. Then it opened, and in walked a bearded middle-aged man in scale armor.
He bowed toward me in greeting.
"I pay my respects to His Majesty the King. I am Central Knight Order Captain Ryun Ha-young."
I'd been watching him silently, then spoke.
"Get out. And come back in."
"Pardon?"
Pardon? What a joke.
"With ears that clogged, you've somehow managed your duties as Knight Order Captain."
At my icy tone, his expression stiffened slightly. I said nothing more, just stared at him steadily.
"..."
In the end, the man who'd introduced himself as Ryun Ha-young stepped back out the door.
"Your Majesty, this is Central Knight Order Captain Ryun Ha-young. May I enter?"
"Come in."
The door opened again, and Ryun Ha-young entered, bowing.
"I seek audience with His Majesty the King. This humble servant is Central Knight Order Captain Ryun Ha-young."
Only then did I relax my expression and nod.
"Central Knight Order Captain. I've been wanting to meet you."
I couldn't just laugh it off as a power play win. For now, the captain hasn't fully devoured me—he's merely retreated a step.
If I kept screwing up etiquette, he might laugh it off next time with, "Your Majesty, what a jest," and plop down in a chair like nothing happened.
No way I'd watch that with my eyes open.
"So, what brings the Knight Order Captain to seek audience so early in the morning?"
He cleared his throat briefly at my words.
"Your Majesty's reign has begun. As the adage goes, 'new wine in new wineskins'—I presumed Your Majesty must be deeply pondering whom to seek out and elevate among the worthy talents."
"And?"
I already knew what he wanted to say, but asked anyway. There's a difference between him saying it outright and mumbling around it.
"I have several talents I'd like to recommend. All loyal, with a keen eye for the big picture, brilliant minds, and no moral blemishes."
Amusing fellow. He avoids specifying loyalty to whom or what "big picture" they grasp—perhaps reluctant to lie outright.
Should I praise him?
"I am always grateful for the Knight Order Captain's tireless efforts on my behalf. Your loyalty in recommending talents amid your busy duties moves me deeply."
"Your words leave me at a loss, Your Majesty."
Let's hear the end of it, friend.
"Even a housewife picking a new kitchen knife inspects it herself. How could I select the pillars of future Seonheon based on one man's word alone?"
Short version: declined. Annoying as it is, palace talk drags everything out. Other hunters would struggle with this speechifying.
"That said, talents recommended by the Knight Order Captain pique my interest. Arrange a separate meeting."
"A separate time...?"
Meaning I'll judge them myself—useful or not.
"At Ilwoljeong Pavilion. Afternoon works. It's been ages since I pulled a bowstring myself."
Ilwoljeong is the palace archery training ground. I eyed the captain with a seemingly joking expression.
"Surely the talents you recommend can at least shoot arrows."
A recommended talent who can't shoot? Absurd.
"Of course, Your Majesty. We'll prepare promptly."
Conversation ended, he rose, bowed, and left. Watching the door he'd exited through, I scratched my head.
"What was that guy's name again?"
Doesn't matter much. Just remember him as the Knight Order Captain.
Like not memorizing the names of companions from that other world. I'll not live here forever anyway.
As pointless as naming a burger you're about to eat and committing it to memory.
"Heck, memorizing it might even make me grow fond."
I muttered that, then froze, eyes widening.
"That's it."
That was the source of the unease. I'd pinned down the root of all this discomfort and incongruity.
"Now I know exactly what to do. Ha, I picked the wrong reign title."
I wiped every prior thought from my mind.
"Your Majesty, it's time for court."
Court. Simply put, the morning meeting. You know the drill from any office job.
Time crawls, most talk is meaningless busywork, but to pretend you're working, you sit in the conference room every morning killing hours.
If your company's morning huddles feel rewarding, count yourself lucky. Rare breed.
But today's is different. First one since the new department head arrived at Seonheon Division. The inaugural meeting after a leadership change always shifts the vibe and mindsets.
The ministers had already entered the palace early, awaiting the morning assembly in the court hall.
"Skip the pointless formalities. Let's begin. Finance Minister, report first."
Normally, morning court starts with elaborate procedures. Music plays as I enter. Officials bow their heads; when seated and told to raise them, the music fades, drums beat three times.
Then civil and military officials straighten, inquire after my health; I ask after theirs. Reports must begin with fixed phrases; they approach shoeless, prostrating on the floor to speak.
All courtesy of Choi Yeo-reum's designs. Morning court protocols, ministers' postures before the king, royal meal menus, banquet seating and drinks for officials...
And like all things in the world, if you use it well, nothing's inherently bad.
She naturally subjugated ministers through these rituals, and they adopted the same toward subordinates, solidifying their elite status.
But no need now. I deliberately skipped most of the cumbersome procedures in the morning court process.