- The Chancellor
It was So-un’s watch.
He joined the segmented pieces of his halberd into one long shaft and mounted his horse.
Today he was on sentry duty.
He would have preferred an ambush—something like a game of hide-and-seek, far more exciting than standing still—but this was the capital’s doorstep.
One mistake, and they would become a spectacle.
Normally he carried the halberd shortened.
Now he locked it into full length so he could wield it from horseback.
Against cavalry, the longer the weapon, the better.
He loosened the reins and rode slowly along the outside of the palisade.
Dusk was settling.
The sun, sprawled behind the distant mountains, seemed to climb upward along their darkening ridges as it sank.
Once it touched the crest, it would drop quickly.
The speed of its descent felt almost tangible.
There were still many onlookers nearby, people lingering to see the Northern Expeditionary Army.
As So-un completed a circuit and approached the entrance, someone shouted.
“A boy general!”
“The boy general!”
So-un turned his head.
The voice had not come from the crowd outside, but from within the encampment.
Ga Gyeong-pil had shouted it, grinning before ducking out of sight.
He had declared it openly in front of everyone.
Rumors had spread, but no one knew who was who.
Now all eyes swung toward So-un at once.
A youth seated atop a large horse, halberd lowered forward, clad in heavy armor and thick gloves—yet with a face unmistakably young.
With Ga Gyeong-pil’s shout, the crowd’s reaction ignited instantly.
The image before them matched the rumors exactly.
People surged closer.
“Ah—!”
So-un’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment.
As dozens pressed forward, he spurred his horse and retreated a distance.
No man on foot could catch a galloping horse.
He circled toward the rear of the palisade to escape the commotion.
A few followed; he wheeled away again, almost fleeing.
Muttering his complaint under his breath, his still-unchanged youthful voice only seemed to confirm their hopes.
“It really is the boy general!”
This time the shout came from among the spectators.
“They say he beat Ga Teuk-rip half to death!”
“No, he killed Mong-roe!”
“They say his spearwork is terrifying!”
“And his archery—ten arrows at once, every one a perfect hit!”
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The rumors swelled, grew, distorted.
If someone had claimed So-un could fly across the sky, the people might have believed that too.
“Tch.”
He searched for Ga Gyeong-pil, but the man had vanished inside the palisade.
So-un called out to a comrade standing above with a bow.
“Uncle, I’m too embarrassed to stand here. Switch watches with me.”
“The scholar wants his watch changed? Why?” the man laughed, fully aware of the situation, feigning ignorance as he circled his words.
Then he slipped away to the opposite side of the gate, avoiding the crowd himself.
So-un turned toward the rear again—
And saw three figures approaching.
They were not spectators.
An old man rode a mule.
Two martial men walked beside him as escorts.
And the aura of the two was not ordinary.
Even at a glance, a chill edge clung to them, as if one might be cut merely by looking too long.
So-un drew in a deep breath and settled his energy through inner circulation.
This was not good.
Whether right or wrong, friend or foe—danger pressed close and cold.
And they approached from the rear of the camp, not the front.
He disliked when trouble arose on his watch.
Why today of all days…
His body moved before his thoughts finished forming.
He turned his horse and rode forward to intercept them.
The halberd lowered, angled forward—not yet leveled, but ready to thrust in an instant.
“How may I help you?”
“We have come to see the Grand General.”
The man on the right answered coldly.
He did not add honorifics.
There was no courtesy at all.
He appeared younger than the elder at the center, clearly relying on the authority of the man between them—or perhaps on his own skill.
“Who might you be?”
“You insolent brat. Who do you think you are to ask who we are? Escort us at once.”
He did not identify himself.
Instead, he barked.
He had lived that way—issuing commands as habit.
The insolence stirred a blade-like urge in So-un.
“You must state who you are before I can escort you. I am poorly educated; shouting does not tell me your name. I stand watch. It is only natural to question those approaching the camp.”
The man flinched.
Hearing the voice clearly now, he realized the speaker was young.
He had intended to intimidate his way through.
So-un raised the signal whistle he carried on watch and blew twice—short, sharp bursts.
Reinforcements would come.
“That is reasonable.”
The old man in the center stopped the shouting guard.
His voice was clear and resonant—not youthful, yet sharp.
There was something untouchable in it.
The arrogance of one accustomed only to giving orders lay concealed beneath calm tone.
High rank, So-un thought.
The thought did not finish.
“Boy. I am the Chancellor of this realm.”
He had recognized So-un’s youth immediately.
At the word Chancellor, the man to the right twisted his shoulder forward, drawing his sword with a shout.
“Stand aside!”
The moment his hand gripped the hilt, So-un’s response was nearly automatic.
The halberd swept forward, blocking his path.
High and low.
The man looked up.
So-un looked down.
When had this man ever been met this way?
“This is not a private household. It is a military gate. Trenches are dug and traps laid to repel enemies—or those who may be deemed enemies. If loud words alone could grant passage, what would become of this realm’s finest army? We will verify your identity. Please wait.”
By now twenty comrades had arrived silently behind So-un.
Ga Gyeong-pil stood among them.
“Verification?” the man snapped.
“How would the Chancellor of the realm come personally to the encampment of a minor army sleeping in the open fields? Would anyone believe that without proof? Until verification is complete, you will wait.”
The reasoning was sound.
Being checked by a low-ranking youth enraged the escort.
With the Chancellor’s approval, he would have cut So-un down where he stood.
“If you cannot—”
“We will regard you as enemies.”
The declaration was calm and absolute.
So-un’s tone left no doubt he meant it.
And he seemed capable.
Ignorance made him brave—or something else did.
“Presumptuous whelp… Chancellor, grant me leave. The boy requires discipline.”
So-un tightened his grip on the halberd.
If he moves, I will strike. Even if he truly is the Chancellor.
He had heard that the Chancellor might be the one who sent the assassins.
In a single breath, his energy surged.
The halberd’s tip trembled faintly under contained force.
A moment from violence.
The Chancellor knew the boy was not wrong.
“You will stand down,” he said to his escort.
“Does the boy not speak with reason? Very well, young one. I will follow your procedure. What must be done?”
Though So-un was but a junior officer, the Chancellor addressed him as you, not dismissively but evenly.
“Provide proof of identity.”
“I carry none at present. What then?”
Before tension could snap, Yi Hui came running from within the camp.
He recognized the Chancellor at once and offered a formal salute.
“Chancellor. Forgive us for failing to recognize you.”
The Chancellor chuckled softly.
“Yi Hui. I hear you distinguished yourself in this campaign.”
“It was nothing worthy of mention. Please enter.”
“Is that sufficient?” the Chancellor asked, turning his gaze back to So-un.
So-un lowered the halberd and withdrew slowly.
“Forgive my discourtesy.”
He saluted from horseback.
He had done his duty.
Verification was the foundation of a sentry’s role.
The Chancellor did not rebuke him.
Walking beside Yi Hui, the Chancellor remarked,
“You have fine soldiers.”
“Apologies,” Yi Hui replied.
The compliment carried an edge.
It meant diligence—but also inconvenience.
Yi Hui understood.
From behind, Ga Gyeong-pil muttered under his breath,
“Is it truly the Chancellor? What brings him here…?”
Dusk deepened.
The Chancellor had come personally, by night, to a camp barred from entering the capital.
It was not a good sign.
If the hundred officials had not come out to welcome the Grand General, that was already telling.
Now shadowed figures approached from the rear.
The air grew heavier.