Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.
If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)
Count: 1.5k
next ->
One year after the events of the Guanyin Temple, and the death of former Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun.
Lan Zhan!
I agree with what you said about Sect Leader Yao, that old fart. He wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him on the arse. If I were you I’d have snuck into his room at night and shaved off his eyebrows – but then again, you’re Chief Cultivator, and you have to follow boring things like rules and protocol. Don’t worry, the next time I’m in Pingyang I’ll … It’s a secret! Look forward to the next time you have a discussion conference with that pig-headed old fool.
I’ve finally reached Yunmeng. Little Apple took such a long time to get started from the inn in Jiangling. I think he had a crush on one of the serving girls, to be honest. Even apples didn’t work to drag him away from her. I had to conjure a mirage of her all the way from Jiangling to Yunmeng to get him going – can you imagine that? One of these days I’ll have to find a nice little female ass to keep his little Little Apple happy … Hahaha! I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me now, Lan Zhan. You still can’t take a dirty joke after all.
Anyway, I digress. It’s nice to be back in Yunmeng and be able to pick all the lotus pods I want and to flirt with all the pretty Yunmeng girls, although none of them are as pretty as you are, of course. You’d make a big stir if you came to Yunmeng – you should visit with me one of these days when you’re free! Although I know of course you have responsibilities as Chief Cultivator etc etc but I promise you it’ll be fun! One of these days I’ll come kidnap you. Then Lan Qiren, that old man, would really have an aneurysm, ha! I’d kidnap you just to see his reaction.
Don’t worry about me, I’m talking nonsense as usual. I wouldn’t really kidnap you, unless I was really bored. And Jiang Cheng would probably beat my ass for trying. Honestly, it surprises me that I haven’t had the honour of Jiang Cheng’s company yet. Somehow, he always knows the moment I step into Yunmeng – it’s like he has a spell set up to go off whenever I’m in the vicinity??? And he never fails to turns up for an hour or two just to shout at me, thrash Zidian around a bit and tell me to go back to Gusu. Then he storms off somewhere to drink tea or something. I swear he’s going to die of high blood pressure one of these days.
Well, I expect I’ll see him around. He’s bound to turn up sometime or other. Looking forward to your reply, and counting every one of your twenty words,
Wei Wuxian
***
Lan Zhan!
Thank you for expressing your concern for Little Apple’s wellbeing. He’s eating well (as usual) and living happily in the city stables where I left him. He has a new crush on the stable boy though, but I’m not worried about that – it seems like his affections are as transient as floating smoke and passing clouds. He seems to be like his former master in the sense of being indiscriminate with regards to his choice of partner, which makes me wonder why he’s taken such an intense aversion to me. I guess it’s just the same old story with me and animals all over again.
It’s my third day in Yunmeng, and still no sign of Jiang Cheng anywhere. Perhaps he’s simply busy with some night hunt or other and can’t be bothered to whip my ass into shape. I’ve been visiting his favourite haunts the past few days but no luck – it seems like he’s really busy this time. I’m starting to worry, and although I never thought I’d ever say this, I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been the longest I’ve gone without hearing him call me a fucking idiot, haha!
Anyway I have a funny story to tell! Yesterday I went to investigate rumours of walking corpses at the base of Yunmeng Mountain. Apparently some farmers came across them and ran away but one of them was caught and eaten.
But guess what, Lan Zhan? Actually, it was nothing more than a group of hermits who’d come down from Yunmeng Mountain five days ago after meditating in seclusion for three years, and they were doing their Bagua ritual circle walk around one of the dove trees at the base of the mountain. They hadn’t bathed once in those three years, and so when the farmers came upon them and saw them chanting and moaning and pacing around the tree they were mistaken for walking corpses! Hahahaha how ridiculous is that??? Anyway I cleared up the misunderstanding. The farmer who was apparently eaten fell down a cliff when he was trying to escape from the “corpses” and broke his leg, so the hermits rescued him and patched him up. He was perfectly fine. I talked to them and they seemed like a pretty normal bunch to me – they were quite a big group when they came down the mountain at first apparently but then most of them decided to go down south and back home instead of lingering in Yunmeng. That’s about all the excitement I’ve had so far, I think.
Well, anyway, thank you for the twenty-one words you used in your reply. You have gotten quite adept at teasing me, haven’t you? Looking forward to how else you may surprise me next,
Wei Wuxian
***
Lan Zhan,
No, I don’t think Jiang Cheng fell off a cliff too. As much as you might wish for it to happen, he’s still my brother an important sect leader, you know! Anyway I already checked all the cliffs around the mountain before I received your letter so it couldn’t possibly be so.
Besides, I went to Lotus Pier earlier today – just to check on how things are going, you know, in case they need my help or something, nothing to do with Jiang Cheng. I just stayed outside the gates because I thought Jiang Cheng would probably descend from the heavens on a cloud and break my legs the moment I stepped foot into Lotus Pier, but some of the disciples spotted me and asked me what I was doing there. They said there have been people disappearing just outside Yunmeng, to the southwest and twenty li outside the main city, and when some of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators went to investigate a few days ago some of them disappeared. So Jiang Cheng decided to take a few more of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples and investigate himself.
Since I have some free time, I’ve decided to help them out. They’ve been gone for four days already – the beast must truly be a handful indeed. It might be fun to go and help, although I think Jiang Cheng might spontaneously explode when he sees my face. Well, maybe the explosion will end up killing the monster, who knows.
It’s quite odd, though; some of the disciples who escaped even said they saw the spectre of Jin Guangyao, that wily old fox, hanging around the cave where they were attacked. Although of course that is impossible, for he is probably still trapped in Nie Mingjue’s coffin, fighting a battle till the end of time. Well, I guess I’ll see for myself if what they saw was true or not.
I had not known that you were capable of silk embroidery. Your skill is indeed fine – as expected of the esteemed Second Master Lan! I shall treasure your gift until the end of time. The cherry blossoms flowered today, and they made me think of you. I wonder if you still remember visiting Tanzhou with me when we were looking for the remaining pieces of the Yin metal? Was it your first time attending such a festival? You looked so surprised by the petals raining down on you then! I miss those times.
I will write to you again tomorrow when I have rescued Jiang Cheng from the human-eating monster. I will make sure to give you a good account of his face when he sees me there to interfere with his night hunt, ha!
***
Dear Lan Wangji Hanguang-jun Mr Chief Cultivator Sir,
I am writing this letter to you because I know you to be a good friend of Wei Wuxian. Just today, I visited Lotus Pier and found that my uncle has been missing for a week, and Wei Wuxian with him for two of those days. They have apparently gone in pursuit of a human-eating monster twenty li southwest of the main city limits of Yunmeng. It must have been a fierce creature indeed to have ensnared both my uncle and Wei Wuxian
Unfortunately, as I am currently extremely and regrettably tied up in Lanling Jin sect matters, this humble person would like to humbly request for your help in locating and possibly rescuing them. Thank you.
soaring dragon dancing phoenix - 龙飞凤舞: chapter one
Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.
If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)
Count: 8k
<- previous
Wei Wuxian woke in darkness, and it was a darkness he did not recognise.
He sat up, groaning as the movement jarred his bones and made him ache in places he’d not known existed. There was something clouding his thoughts, draining his energy; after a few moments wherein he tried to get his bearings, he sensed the presence of a suppressing array designed to repress spiritual energy and sap his strength.
It was not a man-made array. Instead, it had the hallmarks of something far more ancient and terrible.
The amount of resentful energy in the air was so thick that he almost choked on it. In fact, if not for the suppressing array, he would have had trouble stopping the energy from churning through his body and sending him into a state of backlash.
As he stumbled to his feet, there was a crunch underfoot. Something sharp poked into his hand as he steadied himself against the ground. He felt for the object, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realised he had stepped on and broken the jaw bone of a skull.
“Ah – “ reflexively he recoiled. Then he relaxed as he realised it was likely the skull of a deer.
As he blinked and looked about the room, slowly things came into focus. First he saw around him walls made of dark, dank stone. There was a sour, mossy smell in the air; the air felt thick with moisture, and he wrinkled his nose in response. His head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and there was a faint ringing in his ears, likely from the blow to his head he’d received to knock him out before he’d been dragged into this chamber.
“At least whatever took me left me mostly intact,” he muttered to himself, fishing a talisman out of his robes and lighting it with a brief spark of spiritual energy.
He looked down, and realised that the floor was littered with more bones – animal bones, human bones, and unidentifiable shards which were coated in a thin layer of something shiny. When he nudged one of the fragments, it made a squishing noise under his foot, and Wei Wuxian instantly regretted his curiosity.
This must be the lair of the human-eating monster, he thought to himself, and this is where it chucks the remnants of its meals…it must have deemed Mo Xuanyu too skinny and underfed to be worthwhile fare, and tossed me in here for storage instead. It’s not my fault his isn’t a body which builds muscle easily! Why, if I only had my old body…
As he continued to stew indignantly over the monster’s disrespect of his physique, he returned his gaze to the walls, and suddenly realised that there was a passageway carved into the wall, leading into the next room. With one last glance around the chamber he was currently occupying, he deemed there to be little else of note therein, and trotted over to the aperture in the wall.
As he walked cautiously through the passageway, feeling his way with his hands and trying not to cringe at the thin layer of sticky moisture which gathered on his palms, suddenly the corridor opened out into a large chamber. More bones crunched under his feet, and now he found he had to pick his way carefully across the floor without falling over.
Abruptly the faint light from his talisman revealed a purple-clad body on the ground, and Wei Wuxian tripped.
Thankfully, he caught himself before he managed to fall on the body, and once he had regained his balance, he squatted over the body and squinted balefully at the face of the unfortunate person.
Jiang Cheng?! Wei Wuxian exclaimed mentally. What luck!
- Or, lack thereof, depending on how you looked at it. It was supremely lucky that he’d managed to find Jiang Cheng – alive, judging from the steady shallow rise and fall of his chest – and with all limbs and his head still firmly attached. But also supremely unlucky in the sense that they were now alone in a room with both their spiritual energy severely depleted, and without other Yunmeng Jiang sect members/Lan Zhan as buffers.
“Oh well. The rice is now cooked; what’s done is done, and there’s no way around it,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “I’ll just have to deal with his bad temper when he wakes up.”
Wei Wuxian leant over Jiang Cheng and scanned his body. There were faint lines on his temples where dried blood had trickled down from a wound on his head, similar to that on Wei Wuxian’s own forehead, but there didn’t seem to be much lasting damage. His spiritual energy was worryingly low, however, and it could barely be felt through his pulse point. Hurriedly, Wei Wuxian yanked open the collar of his robe and undergarments and placed his hand against his chest.
Thankfully, the thrumming of his spiritual energy was still present – very faint and weak, but still there.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING,” Jiang Cheng said weakly.
“Aaaahhh!” Wei Wuxian yelped, falling backwards and dropping the talisman. They stared at each other for a moment.
“Why are you the one yelling? I’m the one who woke up to being groped by a goddamn cut-sleeve!” Jiang Cheng shouted, albeit a bit feebly.
“Even when you’re half-dead you’re still so noisy,” Wei Wuxian said peevishly. “I was just checking your golden core! As if I’d want to touch you. Gross. And I’m not a cut-sleeve,” he added quickly.
Jiang Cheng ignored him, lifting himself up on his elbows and attempting to get onto his feet. He slapped away Wei Wuxian’s outstretched hand and managed to hobble upright on his own.
“My golden core,” he said suddenly, and looked up at Wei Wuxian with wild eyes. “I can barely feel it. And my senses feel dulled. I can’t think properly. What the hell’s happened to me?!”
“There’s a suppressing array in place,” Wei Wuxian answered. “Can’t you feel it? It’s suppressing your spiritual energy and sapping your strength.”
“Why don’t you seem affected then?” Jiang Cheng said, his tone mildly accusatory.
Wei Wuxian paused. “I don’t have a golden core, remember. And I’ve gone so long without one, I suppose it’s easier to get used to operating on lower spiritual energy.”
He kept his tone breezy and light, but even he felt that it was slightly over-played. Jiang Cheng’s jaw clenched and he turned away.
Wei Wuxian sighed. “Come on, Jiang Cheng,” he tried. “You know it doesn’t matter to me anymore. It’s an old wound, and I was the one who chose to give it up anyway. It wasn’t your fault at all.”
When Jiang Cheng turned back, there was so much guilt and anger in his eyes, Wei Wuxian found he could no longer stand it. He broke their gaze and looked around instead.
“We’re going to need weapons for defence,” he said, thinking out loud. “Spiritual weapons won’t work, since you’re low on spiritual energy, so Sandu and Zidian are out. Oh, how about this!” and he skipped over to the corner of the room, where a bunch of corpses were haphazardly piled on top of each other, covered in sparse cobwebs. A giant hairy spider crawled out of one of the skulls’ mouths and scuttled sideways into the shadows.
From their garb, the bodies had apparently been farmers or fishermen, and accordingly, there were various tools scattered on the ground next to them. Wei Wuxian picked up a few of the items and scrutinised them.
“Here, Jiang Cheng!” he called, and held them out. “Hoe, spade, pitchfork; time to play farmer for the day! Take your pick?”
Jiang Cheng grabbed the pitchfork without looking, his eyes trained on their surroundings and scanning the walls with what little light from the talisman remained. He clenched his fist, and Zidian crackled weakly, but otherwise there was no response, as expected.
“What do you remember before you were knocked out?” he said finally. “How did you find me here?”
Wei Wuxian was relieved to find that Jiang Cheng’s demeanour was back to normal.
He dropped the tools carelessly. “Hmm… I’ve been in Yunmeng for a while, and I went to – I met some Yunmeng Jiang disciples in Yunmeng and they told me you’d taken a group of your cultivators to the area outside the city where there had been a monster causing trouble and eating humans,” he said. “Since you’d been gone for quite a while, I figured it might be an interesting monster, so I came to have a look. I found the entrance to a cave in the area the disciples mentioned, but just as I entered, something knocked me out. Though I didn’t see what.”
“It was the same for me.” Jiang Cheng’s brow darkened, and his jaw clenched. “We must find the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators who came with me – whether they be dead or alive.”
Wei Wuxian nodded grimly. “I came from another room in which there were also many bones and remnants of clothing. There must be other rooms in which they may be found.”
They made their way sombrely through the various passageways and tunnels into other rooms which also reeked of dampness and decay. One by one, they found the distinctive bright purple robes of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples, covering bodies with the flesh only recently gnawed off the bones. For all of them, Jiang Cheng knelt by their sides and covered their bones with their robes, and arranged their remains tidily as best he could.
As he stood up from the side of the last corpse of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators who’d accompanied him on his night hunt, his eyes were red with unshed tears. Wei Wuxian tactfully remained silent as Jiang Cheng took a few moments more to compose himself.
“We should get out and find reinforcements,” Wei Wuxian said at last, when Jiang Cheng’s colour had returned, and his grip on Sandu’s handle had loosened.
At Wei Wuxian’s words, he stiffened, and said suddenly, “What about the monster? It’s somewhere in here causing havoc. Who knows how many more people will killed in the time it takes for us to get back to Lotus Pier and fetch more people to help?”
“Our spiritual energy is so diminished, and we don’t have any useful weapons on us,” Wei Wuxian answered exasperatedly. “With this suppressing array in place, what damage can we possibly do to the monster?”
“Even if we bring reinforcements, they’ll be hit by the suppressing array too,” Jiang Cheng said stubbornly
“This creature is clearly a dangerous one, if our experiences have taught us anything, and one not to be taken lightly. We won’t be able to do much to it!” Wei Wuxian protested.
“Didn’t you kill the Xuanwu even while starved for three days, and heavily injured?” Jiang Cheng rebutted angrily. “Are you saying I’m not as competent as Lan Wangji?”
When Jiang Cheng was like this, it was difficult to deal with him. Wei Wuxian let his exasperation get the better of him. “Fine! Have it your way then!” he snapped. “For the record, I still think we’re going to our death. But since you’re being so pig-headed about it, we might as well try and find the monster and do what damage we can before we end up dying.”
They walked for a bit in a stony silence. The talisman, previously already on its last embers, soon shrivelled away into nothingness. Wei Wuxian wordlessly fished another yellow sheet from his robes and lit their way once more.
In the few moments in which darkness had reigned, Jiang Cheng’s expression had changed.
He quickly schooled it back to his familiar frown, however, and Wei Wuxian would have thought it a trick of the light, if he had not seen it plain as day.
“At least… let’s at least scope out the terrain so we know it better,” Jiang Cheng muttered, with a curious scraping noise, as if he were grinding his teeth. “Then we’ll know it better the second time when we come back with reinforcements.”
“… Are you feeling alright?” Wei Wuxian asked cautiously, with concern. “You don’t have a fever, do you? Why are you agreeing with me all of a sudden?”
“Shut up! Don’t make me change my mind!” Jiang Cheng said huffily, and walked a little bit faster.
Now I remember why Jin Ling’s princess-like temper seemed so familiar, Wei Wuxian thought to himself. He’s a carbon copy of Jiang Cheng as a child! No wonder, what with the way Jiang Cheng raises him.
Of course he would never dare to say such a thing to Jiang Cheng’s face, so they continued ambling on in more silence. Suddenly, Wei Wuxian stopped in his tracks.
“What is it?”
“I can sense something different,” Wei Wuxian said, turning his head from side to side as he attempted to trace the thing which had caught his attention. He closed his eyes and focused his mind.
It took him much concentration and mental capacity, but finally he sensed what had distracted him – a tendril of energy which differed from the constant thrum of resentful energy that threatened to overwhelm him at every step, the latter which likely came from the multiple corpses that they had left behind in the previous rooms. This new energy felt more similar to the force that sustained the suppressing array, but at the same time, curiously unlike. Wei Wuxian tilted his head to the side as he tried to sort out the tangled coils of energy in the air, into a more coherent map.
“I think I can sense the spiritual energy of the monster,” he said, after a few moments. “That is, if this creature is indeed the one that set up the suppressing array. Following its energy should lead us to its location.”
“There’s such a thick cloud of resentful energy. You can tell the monster’s energy apart?” Jiang Cheng asked in disbelief.
“Master of Demonic Cultivation, remember?” Wei Wuxian said, mustering up a grin. “I lived and breathed resentful energy for a while before I, er, before the siege on the Yiling Mounds.” He rushed on quickly before Jiang Cheng could become maudlin again. “It’s nothing to me, to tell apart different sources of resentful energy.”
“I’ve never before heard of a beast that was able to cast a suppressing array,” Jiang Cheng said, thankfully too preoccupied with the matter at hand to be easily distracted by talk of the past. “It must be a human-like monster then – but no, those were clearly the marks of an animal’s teeth on the bodies of my cultivators.”
Wei Wuxian nodded. “My line of thinking was the same as yours. I don’t think this thing is purely beast-like nor human-like, and it’s probably a mix of both, such that it’s able to cast a suppressing array, and yet attack people with such ferocity and strength. We’ll have to trace the energy to its source to find out.”
With a grunt of acknowledgement from Jiang Cheng in response, they continued trudging on in a firm, painful silence. This was a foreign concept to Wei Wuxian; even in his time with Lan Zhan, that taciturn rock of a man, he’d been able to fill the void between them with his aimless chatter and the playing of Chenqing. But something between him and Jiang Cheng still felt too raw, too new and vulnerable, to risk damaging with his usual frivolous antics.
This is so awkward, Wei Wuxian thought. Should I make the first move? But he might yell at me again. Hang on, since when have I been so afraid of Jiang Cheng’s scoldings? Anyway, what would I even ask him? ‘How are the lotuses doing in Lotus Pier?’ Um, no…
Surprisingly, however, Jiang Cheng was the first to break the silence.
“How – ahem. How is Lan Wangji?”
Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure he’d heard him right at first, but as he looked at Jiang Cheng incredulously, the question forming on his lips, Jiang Cheng flushed, and looked away.
“Oh! Er, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked, loudly to cover up both their discomfort. “I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s Chief Cultivator, you know! Isn’t that amazing?”
Jiang Cheng muttered something that sounded suspiciously like I’m the Yunmeng Jiang sect leader, of course I know who the fucking Chief Cultivator is, but then he harrumphed and cleared his throat. Wei Wuxian magnanimously decided to let him off and pretend he hadn’t heard anything.
“I thought you two were inseparable?” Jiang Cheng asked, darting a sideways glance at Wei Wuxian. “And yet you haven’t seen him for a while?”
For some reason, that particular question grated at Wei Wuxian’s skin, and the light of the talisman flickered in response to his annoyance. “Well, he’s busy,” he said airily, “and… and I’ll see him soon. I’m sure of it. As if he could go a day without my presence!”
“He seems to be getting on perfectly fine without you,” Jiang Cheng pointed out, detestably reasonable as always.
“With Lan Zhan’s poker face, how can you tell?” Wei Wuxian returned quickly. This time it was he who walked a little faster, just to be spiteful, and just because he could.
“You look like you’ve been tramping through the wilderness,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly switching the subject.
“I’ve just been living wild for a while. You know, living off the land, eating only fruits and berries, surviving by my abundance of wits as usual…”
“Hah!” Jiang Cheng snorted. It was not a nice snort, Wei Wuxian thought crossly, and in retaliation, he decided not to respond.
Jiang Cheng finally spoke up again, after a long while in which Wei Wuxian had been distracting himself with thoughts of a new classification system for demons of the five elements. “We’ve been going in circles!” he said, and his tone bridled with frustration. “I recognise that rock formation over there. I caught my hand on it earlier – look, my blood is still fresh on the stone.”
Wei Wuxian looked at the rock, and indeed, Jiang Cheng’s blood still glistened on its surface. He wondered how he could have gotten so completely turned around – hadn’t he just been following the tendril of malevolent energy? He could’ve sworn he’d felt it getting stronger, too, which should have meant that they were nearing its source. How was it that they’d ended up circling back to where they’d started?
“I thought we were following the energy from the creature,” Jiang Cheng said irritably.
“Shhh,” Wei Wuxian said, not paying attention to him. “There’s something else at work here. Something I’m not getting.”
Surprisingly, Jiang Cheng quieted down, and leaned against the wall. He did so surreptitiously, as if to escape Wei Wuxian’s sight, but of course he noticed.
Jiang Cheng must be more drained than I thought, Wei Wuxian thought, if he’s stopped arguing with me. Especially since he’s been here for a few days more than me already, and with no food or water. I must find a way to get us out of here - and quickly.
He mustered what little spiritual energy he had left, and focused. In his mind he pushed aside the suppressing fog that clouded his thoughts and distracted his attention, concentrating only on sensing the pulses of energy emanating from every wall in the passageway around him. There was the faint tendril of energy from the creature responsible for the suppressing array, yes, and overwhelming amounts of resentful energy pouring from the corpses of the creature’s meals, and underneath it all… underneath all that energy…
“There’s a maze array in place,” he realised suddenly, his voice echoing in the stillness of the corridor. “It’s cleverly buried under the other layers of energy in this cave, but it’s there. It must have been cast a long time ago, for I could barely sense its presence. And it was not cast by the creature maintaining the suppressing array.”
“That’s what’s confusing your sense of direction?” Jiang Cheng asked despairingly. “Then how are we supposed to get out of here with little spiritual energy and our only lead a complete dead end?”
Wei Wuxian shook his head, mustering a small smile. “Don’t lose hope so easily, Jiang Cheng! We’ll find a way out. We just need a way to overcome the maze array – then we can follow the creature’s malevolent energy without being confused. We just need some way of maintaining our sense of direction.”
“What do you suggest we do? Is there any way to track our steps, perhaps?” Jiang Cheng said.
Wei Wuxian tapped idly at the side of his nose as he thought, pacing back and forth in the confined space. Jiang Cheng’s eyes, lit up by the flickering light of the paper talisman, followed him back and forth.
“I could cast a tracking spell… no, but with my depleted spiritual energy, that wouldn’t last long… I have the Compass of Evil which I worked on to improve last week, but this creature doesn’t consume souls, and so it wouldn’t work… Oh?”
The unravelling hem of his ratty travelling robe had snagged on a shard of rock protruding out of the wall, and had caused him to pause in his steps. Wei Wuxian stared down at the little loop of thread curled around the stone protrusion.
Suddenly, an epiphany came upon him.
“I have an idea!” he said, excitedly, and began picking apart the hem of his robe. Jiang Cheng lifted himself off the wall and came over to inspect what he was doing.
“What’s that supposed to do?” he asked sceptically. “Is it just another excuse for you to go naked again? Oi, just because it’s just me down here with you - ”
“It was one time, and I was eight,” Wei Wuxian said exasperatedly, “and don’t tell me you’d never seen a penis before that! I don’t know why you had to act like a blushing maiden and try to stab me with your brush. We’re both men, aren’t we? Nothing you haven’t seen before!”
While he’d been going on, and Jiang Cheng had started spluttering and turning interesting colours, he’d managed to unpick the thread from his robe, and tied it around a sturdy stalagmite on the ground. He gave the limestone pillar a few experimental pulls, and it didn’t budge.
“Now we just have to follow the thread, and we’ll know which routes we’ve walked, and which routes we haven’t!” he said brightly, as he straightened up.
“That’s… actually a good idea,” Jiang Cheng said grudgingly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at the stalagmite.
“I always have good ideas. Don’t you know?” Wei Wuxian said, grinning. “Come on, let’s hurry. I don’t know how many days have passed, but surely it’s been too long already. We should quickly find the monster’s hideout and then figure out a way to escape.”
It was indeed a good idea, if Wei Wuxian said so himself (and he did, multiple times, very smugly, so much so that Jiang Cheng started ignoring him again), and with its aid, they managed to find their way out of the maze of corridors that surrounded the rooms containing the corpses. Wei Wuxian heaved a sigh of relief as he finally felt the thick fog of resentful energy that had been giving him a massive headache, fade away into the background and eventually disappear.
Now, the passageways they walked were a little less damp, and a little less foul-smelling. There were even lamps embedded in the wall, unlit and covered with cobwebs, but obviously made by a talented craftsman. Wei Wuxian stopped to inspect one of them, and the style of its carvings and the technique of its forging marked it as a craft belonging to the dynasty of six centuries ago.
“Whatever inhabits this cave must be ancient indeed,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, as Wei Wuxian shared this insight with him.
They stopped abruptly as a carven wooden door appeared beside them, looming out of the darkness, leading into an enclave that branched off from the main tunnel.
The frame of the door extended high above their visible range, and as Wei Wuxian guided the talisman as far up as he dared without losing his tenuous hold on the charm, they realised just how large the tunnel was beginning to run. All they could see above them was darkness, and there was no observable ceiling. They exchanged glances, and with a mutual nod of acknowledgement, Jiang Cheng placed his palm on the door and pushed firmly.
It creaked open with a loud sound of protest. The noise made both of them wince and glance around sharply to see if the clamour had attracted any undue attention. But thankfully, even after a few moments of silence, they were still alone in the tunnel, with no foes in sight. Jiang Cheng pushed the door open all the way, and they peered into the darkness cautiously.
“It’s a library - !” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, his voice hushed, as the talisman floated into the room and lit up shelves upon shelves of crumbling, decaying books and scrolls. Jiang Cheng scanned the titles, trying to make out the words on their spines.
“Vegetarian Dietary Principles,” Jiang Cheng read out, “Journey to the West, Classic of Poetry, Classic – Classic of – Music?”
Wei Wuxian expelled a surprised breath and shook his head. “Whoever owned this library must have been a great patron of the arts - he’s even managed to acquire books which no one’s ever had a copy of before! It’s a collection to rival even that of the Gusu Lan library. But such a valuable hoard would usually be maintained zealously by its collector, not left to rot away in such a sorry state.”
The talisman settled on a pile of objects arranged neatly in the corner of the library, and Wei Wuxian felt his brows shoot up even further.
“A guqin, guzheng, pipa, dihu, yangqin – truly an impressive collection of instruments from all across China!” he said admiringly. “They’ve been left to gather dust as well, and they haven’t been maintained in a while. Things are becoming curiouser and curiouser indeed.”
“Perhaps the owner of the collection was eaten by the monster,” Jiang Cheng suggested.
“Perhaps,” Wei Wuxian said doubtfully. I feel that there’s something here we’re still not getting…
They left the library behind, unable to see much in the darkness and with their limited light source. Wei Wuxian had to light another talisman, for the previous one flickered and shrivelled to dust. Just as he did, his stomach let out a loud sound of dissatisfaction, and he automatically pressed a hand to his abdomen.
“I’m hungryyyyyy,” he whined. “Jiang Cheng, do you have any food?”
“Stop talking nonsense,” Jiang Cheng retorted sharply. “If I’d had any food, I’d long since have eaten it up already!”
“Ugh,” Wei Wuxian groaned, leaning dramatically forward as they walked. “I’m going to die of hunger. Who knows how many days and nights we’ve spent in here! It’s not like you have a set sleep schedule so we can count the days. We’ve probably been walking for a few days without rest already – and who knows how much longer it’ll take to get out.”
He felt his coat slip off his shoulder, and he looked down at it. Because of the unravelling string, his already-raggedy outerwear was falling apart, and it no longer resembled anything coat-like. Wei Wuxian shrugged it off and tucked it under his right arm, and was left only in his underthings.
“I feel the wind blowing through places I didn’t know existed,” he complained, shivering.
Jiang Cheng looked at him and immediately averted his eyes, a dull flush colouring his cheeks. “Shameless!” he spluttered. “What wind?! There’s barely any wind, we’re underground! Wei Wuxian, you’re truly shameless as always!”
“Now you’re starting to sound like the old Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian muttered under his breath. “One of him is good enough, thank you very much…”
Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting crash, and it was only their quick reflexes that caused them not to be buried under a large column of rocks that suddenly came pouring down on them. Both of them leapt to the side, and stared, bug-eyed, at the spot in which they had been standing just moments ago.
“Agh, my eyes,” said Jiang Cheng loudly, as the fog from the avalanche cleared, and piercing sunlight shone down on them from the large hole which had suddenly opened up in the ceiling of the tunnel, far above them. Wei Wuxian shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted blearily up at the hole.
…
“LAN ZHAN!!!!” he cried out happily, as he made eye contact with a very dear, familiar figure. Lan Zhan peered imperiously down at them, the sunlight making it seem as though his head was glowing.
“Speak of Cao Cao and Cao Cao will arrive,” Wei Wuxian said, bouncing excitedly up and down on the spot. “Didn’t I tell you Lan Zhan could be counted on to rescue us?* Huh? He’s reliable, isn’t he?”
*A/N: (he didn’t)
“Did you really have to invoke his name?” Jiang Cheng said grumpily, following his gaze upwards. “I always feel like he’s looking down on me, but now he’s actually literally looking down on me.”
Another figure appeared beside Lan Zhan and peeked cautiously over the edge of the hole. After squinting for a while more, Wei Wuxian realised it was Lan Xichen.
“Are you two alright?” Lan Xichen called down to them, his gentle voice filled with concern. “I’m afraid we went a little, ah, overboard in trying to get down to you two…”
“We’re fine, Zewu-jun, thanks for your concern!” Wei Wuxian hollered back up at them. “Won’t you come down and join us? We’re depleted of spiritual energy and unable to join you up there!”
Lan Zhan immediately flew down, but the moment he alighted and laid his eyes on Wei Wuxian, his finely-sculpted eyebrows shot up towards to his forehead.
“What – what happened to your outer robe?” he said, sounding faintly strangled.
“Oh – this? I used the string from my hem to track our progress through this cave,” Wei Wuxian replied cheerily. “There’s a maze array in place, although it’s quite difficult to detect, and with our limited spiritual energy there wasn’t any other way to stop ourselves getting lost. Jiang Cheng will tell you it was quite a clever idea. It must have been quite cold outside, Lan Zhan, your ears are turning pink! Here, rub your hands together…”
Jiang Cheng, predictably, ignored him and lifted his hands in a salute to Lan Xichen, who’d descended as well to join them. “Sect Leader Lan,” he said formally, and Lan Xichen returned the gesture. Jiang Cheng turned to Lan Zhan and repeated the gesture, a little more unwillingly.
“Here, take this,” Lan Zhan said, pulling a qiankun pouch out from his sleeve. Sticking his hand inside the pouch, he drew out an overcoat with the designs of the Gusu Lan sect and placed it securely around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.
Wei Wuxian whistled in surprise and appreciation. “Lan Zhan, you came prepared! It’s one of your robes, isn’t it?” A thought occurred to him which made him laugh out loud in pure delight. “Ooh, Lan Zhan, are you embarrassed by my lack of clothing? You know I’m shameless, I don’t mind even if I’m just parading around in my underwear or even if I’m stark naked.”
“As you can tell, Hanguang-jun, he’s doing perfectly fine,” Jiang Cheng said acrimoniously. “The days of starvation and lack of spiritual energy haven’t done anything to dampen his personality.”
Wei Wuxian pouted. “Lan Zhan knows that,” he replied peevishly. “We killed the Xuanwu together under the same circumstances, remember?”
A soft laugh from the side reminded him of Lan Xichen’s presence, and he spun around to face him.
“Sect Leader Lan, what’re you doing here?” Wei Wuxian asked curiously. “I thought you were in seclusion. What brings you here?”
Lan Xichen smiled. “I was in seclusion, but Wangji came to me today and told me of your and Sect Leader Jiang’s disappearance. He was quite distressed by the news, and asked me for help to track the two of you down. And when I heard that A-Yao – that Jin Guangyao had been seen in the area…”
He hesitated, and said no more. None of them pressed him further.
“How did you manage to find us?” Jiang Cheng asked quickly, directing his question at Lan Zhan.
“Jin Ling wrote to me when he found that you were missing,” Lan Zhan answered. “We followed your trail to this place. And I could sense Wei Ying’s energy coming from here, so we entered here.”
“You could sense my energy?” Wei Wuxian asked, bewildered by this new turn of events. “But – how? Plus the suppressing array – “
“Where is the human-eating monster?” Lan Zhan asked abruptly, cutting him off. “Have you already killed it?”
After a pause, Wei Wuxian shook his head, and relayed the events of the past few days to them. It turned out that Jiang Cheng had been missing for nine days, and Wei Wuxian for three – that explains why Jiang Cheng looks so exhausted, he thought to himself; nine days without food or drink will do that to you.
Lan Xichen passed them water in a flask and two bags filled with baozi, steamed buns, which Jiang Cheng immediately started scarfing down ravenously. Lan Zhan took the other bag and held up the flask to Wei Wuxian’s mouth.
“Drink,” he said softly. One of his hands came up behind Wei Wuxian’s back to steady him.
Wei Wuxian drank obediently, thinking, I am so loved.
When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Lan Zhan immediately fished one of the baozi out of the bag and held it up for Wei Wuxian to take a bite. The meat inside the bun tasted truly delicious to his starved palate, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting out little ‘mm’s of enjoyment as he chewed.
Only when Wei Wuxian had finished munching on the baozi did Lan Zhan exhale and relax, although his hand still remained on Wei Wuxian’s lower back.
“Thanks, Lan Zhan,” he said, smiling widely. Something about Lan Zhan’s presence always left him feeling refreshed. “I knew I could count on you. You’re such a reliable friend. No wonder you’re the Chief Cultivator, indeed!”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Jiang Cheng said indistinctly, and Wei Wuxian whipped around to look at him.
(If he was being perfectly honest, he’d forgotten Jiang Cheng – and Lan Xichen – were there.)
The two of them were staring openly at him and Lan Zhan, the bag of baozi dangling loosely from Jiang Cheng’s hand and Jiang Cheng’s cheeks still stuffed with bites of baozi so that he looked like a squirrel. Lan Xichen’s smile looked like it had ossified on his face.
“What?” Wei Wuxian said in confusion. He looked at Lan Zhan for reassurance that he wasn’t the only one bewildered in this situation, but Lan Zhan seemed to be trying to do something with his face, alternately widening and squinting his eyes at the two other people.
Lan Xichen coughed. “Never – never mind, Young Master Wei,” he said, his smile back on his face, although now it looked a little bit forced. “If you’ve finished your meal, we should proceed with your original plan to find the human-eating monster. Wangji and I have spent only a few moments in this cave, but already I can feel the effects of the suppressing array. Wangji, you feel it too?”
Lan Zhan inclined his head, his face back to its usual expressionlessness. “It was not cast by a human,” he replied. “The energy is different. Staying here longer than necessary will result in full depletion of our spiritual energy.” He materialised his guqin and played a few complicated sounding notes. Blue light flared as he cast the pathfinding spell, and it formed a faint line on the ground showing the direction in which they were to go.
“We must hurry,” he said brusquely, “or my energy will fail and the spell will disappear.”
“Got it,” Wei Wuxian said, nodding decisively, feeling much more comfortable and at ease now that he was no longer alone with Jiang Cheng, and Lan Zhan was here at his side. As they walked, Wei Wuxian filled the silence with his usual chatter, speculating about the origins of the creature and how it could possibly have cast a suppressing array, interrupted only by Lan Zhan’s ‘mm’s of acknowledgment and the occasional offered insight.
If he was speaking a little louder than usual, it was only because he could feel the supreme awkwardness radiating off the two sect leaders walking behind them. It wasn’t coming off Lan Xichen, no – Wei Wuxian had previously turned around surreptitiously to check on the two of them and Lan Xichen had looked perfectly at ease and his usual composed self. Rather, it was Jiang Cheng who was blatantly trying to avoid everyone’s gaze, and who’d answered Lan Xichen’s initial attempts at conversations with curt, albeit polite, rejoinders.
That’s strange, Wei Wuxian mused to himself, as he chattered on to Lan Zhan about his theories regarding whether or not beasts had souls akin to that of humans, Jiang Cheng’s used to silence and isn’t often fazed. I wonder if something happened between him and Zewu-jun? Or maybe he’s just tired. Or maybe he feels left out of the conversation between me and Lan Zhan? But that’s not my fault! He’s the one being all grumpy and crabby. I mean, I know things aren’t exactly back to normal between us, but I’d thought after the Guanyin Temple events he’d started to hate me a little bit less…
“We’re here,” Lan Zhan said, stopping abruptly, as the faint blue line on the ground ended and they were faced with a large door.
This was different from the door that had led into the library, for it was carved out of granite and not wood, and gems were embedded deep into the stone in a pattern that radiated out from the centre, where two large knockers were located. The faces of two door gods glared at them out of the darkness, painted as they were on either panel of the door.
It must have been a glorious sight, Wei Wuxian thought to himself, when the lamps had been lit. But now the gems only gleamed dully in the limited light from the talisman, and the paint of the door gods was chipped and peeling. Now their stares looked mournful, rather than stern and majestic, as they would have been before.
Words were carved into the upper frame of the door, large, sombre characters in ancient text. They looked as if they had been etched into the stone by a great claw, the edges of the words were still clear and relatively unchipped by time.
“Cave of… Cave of Dormancy?” Wei Wuxian read with some difficulty, for he had not practised reading ancient scripts to any significant extent.
“There is a great well of yang energy beyond this door,” Lan Xichen said from behind them, his voice almost awestruck. Wei Wuxian concurred. As they had been following the path indicated by Lan Zhan’s pathfinding spell, he too had felt the presence of a boundless amount of yang energy emanating from some unseen force, that now apparently lay behind this door.
Even in his weakened state, it felt ponderous and overpowering; he could not imagine what it felt like for Lan Zhan and Lan Xichen, whose reserves of energy were mostly intact. True to his thoughts, Lan Zhan staggered slightly, and the blue line on the ground faded. Wei Wuxian dropped the ratty overcoat tucked under his arm, and steadied him with a hand on his elbows.
The faint crackle of Zidian echoed throughout the space as Jiang Cheng clenched his fist, and he strode forward, placing his palm on the handle of the door.
“Sect Leader Jiang, we must be cautious,” Lan Xichen said, and in his gentle voice it did not sound like a rebuke. Jiang Cheng spared him a sideways glance, then nodded shortly. It took the both of them to push the heavy doors open, and Lan Zhan levered himself out of Wei Wuxian’s grasp to peer carefully into the chamber.
It was the light that hit them first, and blinded them.
Jiang Cheng grunted in surprise and cast his head away, for he had been the first one to gain entrance to the chamber. Wei Wuxian pushed his way forward and squinted into the blinding light.
Once his eyes had stopped metaphorically bleeding, he made out lamps on the walls, larger than the ones in the passageways, and this time, these were lit, with a curious iridescent flame that flickered and danced even though there was no wind.
As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he began to make out more features of the room. It was a vast chamber, with the ceiling towering high above them, and every panel of the walls inlaid with gold and jade. Golden dragons snarled motionlessly at them from the corners of the room, their presumably-once-gleaming surfaces now flecked with dirt. Two thrones sat at the far end of the room – which was more like a hall – one enormous and golden, the other slightly smaller and carved in jade. A thin layer of dust covered every single object and surface in the room.
Except for the centre of the chamber, a shining golden pedestal, upon which lay a great slumbering long.
There was a sharp intake of breath from behind Wei Wuxian from Lan Zhan that told him he’d noticed the long as well. Very slowly, not daring to take even a single breath, Wei Wuxian stepped backwards and back into the passageway.
Once he was no longer in the hall, he spun around, his eyes open so wide he felt they were about to fall out of his skull.
“It’s a Shenlong. A heavenly dragon,” he hissed frantically. “The nine resemblances were present: the stag’s horns, the camel’s head, the demon’s eyes, the snake’s neck, the clam’s belly, the carp’s scales, the tiger’s paws, the cow’s ears, and most distinctive of the Shenlong, out of all the types of long – the eagle’s claws, of which there were five on each foot.”
Jiang Cheng’s were equally wide. “Is it… is it the real thing?” he managed. “Or is it a deformed copy, like the Xuanwu of Slaughter you and Lan Wangji fought?”
“He is a true Shenlong,” Lan Xichen spoke, and there was a subtle tremor in his voice. “He had the chimu atop its head, without which he may not ascend to the heavens.”
“That explains how he was able to cast the suppressing array, and the non-human aura of his energy, given that a Shenlong is a fully sentient being and not merely a mindless beast. But what’s he doing down here, though?” Wei Wuxian wondered aloud. “A Shenlong belongs in the heavens or in the body of water he governs, not under the ground where he has no access to the water which sustains him.”
Lan Xichen shook his head, his gaze equally uncomprehending. “Before we left the chamber, I observed that there were large lacquer panels on the walls with accompanying text, which likely depicted the Shenlong and his story,” he said quietly. “I did not get a close enough look at the words, however. But there is one thing beyond doubt – this Shenlong is unlike his more benevolent peers, and is responsible for the disappearances of the people of Yunmeng. We must find a way to observe both the Shenlong and the panels on the walls, which may give us a clue as to how to combat him.”
“According to the stories, it has superior sight and smell,” Lan Zhan spoke up. “It will be difficult to evade its notice.”
“It did not notice us when we first entered, however, and we were rather noisy,” Jiang Cheng said. “If we are careful, we should be fine.”
Given that none of them saw any other way to proceed, it was on that note of caution that they entered the chamber once again. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes firmly trained on the Shenlong, but even as they eased themselves slowly past the door and into the room, he did not wake. The lines of his magnificent, serpentine body rose and fell in tandem with his breaths, and the silky tendrils of his beard fluttered in the air that whooshed out of his nostrils. A pearl glimmered faintly from where it was nestled underneath his chin.
Wei Wuxian could not help but stop and admire his majestic beauty. It was truly a sight he’d never thought he’d see in his lifetime, for long were said to be mere figments of imagination, myths of the past.
But… I suppose, if there’s a Xuanwu, why not a Shenlong? It was a perfectly reasonable line of logic, he thought, and besides, unless he and the other three were having mass hallucinations, the proof of truth in those supposed legends lay before his own eyes.
It was only when he was sure that the Shenlong was deep in slumber, that he finally turned his attention to the four lacquer panels on the wall. These were clearly done by a great artist - like the rest of the statues and art pieces of the chamber - for the panels were carefully inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold leaf carved into the shapes of miniscule birds and flowers that fluttered in and adorned the background of the scenes. Below each panel were lines of ancient script, carved deep into the rock by the same great claw which had labelled this cavern the Cave of Dormancy.
The words were not clear to him, given his inability to read ancient text, but thankfully, the pictures were evocative enough that he was able to get the main gist of the story. In the first panel, the Shenlong perched atop a mountain, watching as the towns and people in his purview were washed away by strong wind and rain. In the next screen, he was depicted swooping downwards into the fray and picking off various unfortunate victims from the deluge of water below. His large bulging eyes, created with carven jade gemstones, glimmered malevolently in the light. Blood gushed from his cavernous jaws.
Then, in the next panel, a Fenghuang – a divine phoenix - had descended upon the scene, and was tussling violently with the Shenlong, her long, sharp beak digging into the flesh of the Shenlong’s leg where it was buried. The artist had captured their likenesses so perfectly that the extended claws of the Fenghuang seemed to leap out from the painting at viewers, and her vibrant feathers appeared soft and inviting to the touch.
The scene depicted in the final screen was set in a familiar location: here, in the Cave of Dormancy, the Fenghuang presided over the Shenlong, the iridescent plumage on her wings spread wide as she cast her shadow on the slumbering Shenlong. His long body was now marked heavily with the scars of battle and blood, and he lay in exactly the same position as he was in now, atop the golden pedestal, feet tucked under his body and tail curled round his head; a curiously docile posture.
The only difference between then and now, Wei Wuxian reflected, as he glanced back to the actual Shenlong, was the array of bones now scattered haphazardly around his pedestal – some animal, some human.
The old stories only tell of the Shenlong as a noble and wise creature, who bestows rain upon peasants as a water god, Wei Wuxian thought to himself. This Shenlong must be a rogue one, akin to the black dragon of Jizhou which was killed by the goddess Nüwa. This Shenlong must have brought calamity to the surrounding towns and abused his power to consume human flesh.
All this information he recalled from dusty textbooks and boring lessons on rainy days that seemed a lifetime away – well, he corrected in his mind, for him at least, they were a lifetime away. But there was no time to dwell on his sad past, now. The important thing at hand now, was to find a way to defeat this Shenlong, and stop it from killing any more Yunmeng people. The only thing was – how? Wei Wuxian could see from the grim look in the eyes of his companions that they were similarly nonplussed.
In the stories, there were few who actually fought a long, and even fewer who survived, Wei Wuxian thought, his brain working furiously. Of those few, most were deities or gods like the Monkey God Sun Wukong, or the Third Lotus Prince Nezha. Long have few weaknesses and many strengths, and it will be difficult to conquer it without external, godly help…
Then, all of a sudden, came the clear, sonorous ring of a bell.
Immediately, all four of them froze. Slowly their gazes turned, from the four panels on the wall, and landed on the Shenlong sleeping atop the golden pedestal.
the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.
a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting)
Count: 7k
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A/N: ummmmm so basically i wanted to rewrite kingdom... with a yeong-shin/lee chang twist... and it turned out as a massive lee chang character study lol. the plot borrows elements from the drama but is quite different - i wanted to bring out certain aspects of the characters and tone down on some of them a little more. the story is mostly complete, i'm just in the midst of editing, so updates will be weekly. enjoy~
Survive.
Lee Chang gathers the reins of his horse in his hands, and looks out towards the horizon. The sun is waning, and Mu-yeong is complaining about the flies, and Lee Chang still feels the heat of anger and injustice scorching his skin.
He had been there when the King had sent the messenger to Dongnae – a routine check it had been, nothing more. Apparently, Cho Hak-ju and his spies had heard murmurs of a rebellion in the South, and he had whispered his foul poison into the King’s ear, convincing him to send a messenger to Dongnae to put the magistrate on his guard.
Lee Chang had also been there when the messenger’s horse had returned, bereft of its rider, and bereft of its message.
“Why not send the Prince to investigate?” had been Cho Hak-ju’s answer. “We must send someone reliable this time, someone who will not shirk his mission. And the Prince must have been so bored of late. There is little to occupy his scholarly mind in recent days, what with everyone being occupied preparing for the new prince’s birth.”
“Why not send Beom-il? Surely your son is more experienced than I am at these matters,” Lee Chang had answered, and he had felt the strain of his smile stretch tight against his cheekbones.
“Of course, but Beom-il is indisposed at the moment. He has been sent to oversee the setting up of the new regiment at Haeju, and will not return for a few days more.”
He was an odious snake, he was, Lee Chang thought bitterly, but still the King had acquiesced.
His only modicum of hope lay in the words the King had said to him that night, as they took their private dinner together – a rarity, now that most of his time was occupied with the queen and her increasingly-rounded belly.
“It pains me to say this, but…” the King had picked at his food. “There is something brewing in the south, although I do not believe it to be the rebellion that Lord Cho is suggesting.”
Lee Chang personally thought there was nothing in it, but then again, he didn’t have the extensive network of spies the King and Cho Hak-ju seemed to have. He could not – and probably never will – understand how one can trust men who live in the shadows and trade secrets – and lives – for their livelihood. Perhaps it would not make him a good king, but Lee Chang wanted to believe that it would make him a better one instead.
“I want you to investigate what the Haewon Cho clan is up to in the south,” the King had then said, and Lee Chang had almost fallen from his seat.
“Father, why?” he had asked, a perfectly reasonable question. He well remembered the times in his youth when Cho Hak-ju had said something insulting to him or done something to side-line him, something so serious that he had felt the need to go to the King for recompense. Every single time, he could recall being brushed off and told “Lord Cho thinks only of the good of the nation” and “you would do well to heed his teachings”. Never had the King shown even a hint of resentment or suspicion of the Haewon Cho clan’s leader, and Lee Chang had always thought his trust in Cho Hak-ju unshakeable.
Not so unshakeable, it seemed. A shadow had crossed the King's face then, and he had turned away as if to hide his face.
“I did not believe it when first the Head of the Royal Commandery brought it to my attention,” the King had said then, “but Cho Beom-il has been implicated in several – well, shall we say, unsavoury deals, and Lord Min’s investigations point to Lord Cho at their head. But he has been very careful to cover his tracks, and the evidence is, while convincing, mostly circumstantial.”
Lee Chang had taken a sip of his wine, his throat suddenly dry. “And of my role in all this?” he had managed. “Why send me? Surely by doing so we are playing precisely into Lord Cho’s hands.”
“I do not yet know what he plans,” the King had replied, shaking his head. “All I have are ominous tidings from my spies in Sangju and Dongnae that there is something nefarious being planned, but Lord Cho – if it is indeed he behind it – is an intelligent man. He has not yet let anything slip. If we must play into his hands, at least for now, just know that you go as my envoy, my emissary, and not the messenger boy of the Haewon Cho clan. I trust only my son to carry this through for me.”
“I wish to see my son, and I miss my wife,” Mu-yeong complains, and it snaps Lee Chang back to reality. He huffs out an exasperated laugh at the familiar refrain.
“At least she will be well-taken care of while you are gone,” he says, letting the amusement thread through his voice. “Where did you say she was staying while you are with me?”
“With her aunt, in Naesonjae. Her brother has found work in the queen’s palace, so they have enough money to put her up at least until I return,” Mu-yeong answers, and punctuates his answer with an enormous, put-upon sigh.
“That is good,” Lee Chang says absently. “At least you need not steal desserts from my table any longer to feed her.”
“Your Highness – you said you wouldn’t - ” splutters Mu-yeong, his face turning beet red, as he spins around in his horse to check on the entourage of three guards following them. Thankfully for him, they are bickering among themselves about something inconsequential, and Lee Chang dismisses them as not having heard anything.
“We must find somewhere to make camp soon,” he decides, looking back towards the horizon, and the sun’s fading rays colouring it red.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong replies, and he slows his horse to tell the guards.
Very quickly, they find a clearing in which to make camp, and Lee Chang grooms his horse while the guards and Mu-yeong start the fire. When the fire is sufficiently large, he sits by it and unwraps the jangguk mandu prepared for him that morning by his chefs. The smell of pork and kimchi wafts like sweet perfume from the wrappings, and he catches the guards looking at him enviously from the corner of their eyes, as they dig into their mieum. The gruel splatters over the grass as they eat.
One of the guards’ voices drifts over to him on the wind. “Royals are lucky,” he says, a thread of envy in his voice. “Jangguk mandu and tteokguk for dinner. What I would do for some meat.”
“Hush,” Mu-yeong says, glancing over at Lee Chang, but he pretends not to hear their conversation, and Mu-yeong returns his attention to the guards, reassured. “You know meat is a luxury us peasants cannot afford, especially in these trying times.”
“Yeah? You’d think the royals and the lords don’t know of the ongoing famine. The other day, I was on guard for Lord Park, and he left a whole dish of goldongban untouched. Untouched!” There is a collective groan from the group.
“What I wouldn’t do for some beef and eggs,” agrees one of the others, fervently.
“My mother died of illness last month. She wasted away,” comes the quiet voice of the last guard. “And when you think of all the food that’s left on the royals’ tables…” He shakes his head, and fumbles in his pockets. “I only have my daughter and my dear wife left, and the little girl’s so much like her grandmother. Worries about me all the time. She made me this talisman to keep me safe.” He displays the charm, and Lee Chang can vaguely see the childish drawings on the blue fabric, accompanied by words he is too far away to read.
He looks down at his mandu. Suddenly, the dumplings no longer seem as inviting.
Lee Chang thinks of offering them his food, then. Thinks of unwrapping the rest of the packages tethered to his horse, and sharing the food among the guards, because, if he’s honest, there was far too much food packed for him alone.
But something holds him back. Pride, perhaps, or irrational fear, that they will hate him even more for what they might construe as his pity.
And now it is too late. Before he could come to a a decision, the guards had finished their food, and now they are standing up, stretching, and sorting out the watch schedule. Mu-yeong comes over to him and notices his untouched meal.
“You must eat, Your Highness,” he urges, his tone teasing.
But when Lee Chang turns his face up to face him, Mu-yeong must see something in his face, for he squats down, his eyes turning liquid and understanding.
“Your Highness is different from the rest of the nobles,” he murmurs, under his breath so the other guards do not hear. “You did not execute my family when you caught me stealing from your table to provide for my wife. You did not execute the maid when she ruined your second-best coat with her shoddy washing skills. You did not execute the chef when he cooked you kongguksu for dinner, forgetting soy beans give you sleepless nights. That mercy is far above what any other noble is capable of – ah, now, don’t blush, Your Highness – you know it to be true! Don’t be embarrassed.”
Lee Chang scoffs and turns away. “Be quiet, or I shall execute your whole family,” he mutters under his breath.
“Isn’t it about time you stopped joking about that?” Mu-yeong cries, aghast. “Such a threat from the Crown Prince holds more weight than you think!”
Lee Chang glares at him out of the corner of his eye, then sighs, and turns his attention away. He begins unpacking the linens with which he is to make his bed, and tries not to smile; but he is sure the way his lips twitch, gives him away.
Satisfied that he has restored his prince’s spirits, Mu-yeong returns to the rest of the guards, who have been watching their exchange with some curiosity. Lee Chang strains to hear their conversation as they welcome his guard back to their side with a comradely clap to the back, but it is late, and the hard riding of the morning has driven all the energy from his bones.
The ground is hard against his back, and it is with the unhappy feeling of rocks digging pinpricks of pain into his skin, that he finally drifts into a restless slumber.
***
He is in the King’s study, staring at the irworobongdo behind the King’s desk and thinking to himself, “I will never be king.”
The King’s great-grandfather, his great-great-grandfather, had had the folding screens installed behind his desk in his room in Gyeongbokgung Palace during his reign, to emulate the irworobongdo behind the royal throne where he held court. Lee Chang had been told by his nurse as a boy that the former King, his great-great-grandfather, had used the paintings to intimidate whoever was unlucky enough to be called to his study for an audience. After the Second War of Jeong-yu, three years ago, Gyeongbokgung had been razed to ashes, they had moved here into Changdeokgung as the main palace, and the current King had decided to adopt the same practice as his great-grandfather.
It makes a majestic sight for sure, the five peaks rising above the head of the King, flanked by the two moons, conifers, and streams running down from the mountains. Lee Chang had often been called here in his youth, and one of his earliest – and most vivid – memories is of standing before the King, only nine years old, on his knees and crying. He remembers having been summoned for some small prank he had played on one of the guards. He remembers the King’s back, tall and stately, looming above him, his arms crossed behind him, and his voice: “You are the Crown Prince, Lee Chang. Such childish frivolities are beneath you. You must always act with the maturity and dignity required of your station.”
Yet he cannot remember the King’s face.
So now, he fixes his gaze blankly on the third and middle peak of the irworobongdo, as the King strides leisurely across the room, watching him.
“Did you hear me, Chang?” he says, and his voice is quiet.
“Yes,” Lee Chang manages. “That is wonderful news. You have informed the ministers, then? That Her Highness is with child?”
“Yes, yes,” the King replies, waving his hand airily. “They have given their best wishes, of course. I am sure he will be a beautiful baby boy.”
Or a girl, Lee Chang’s mind whispers, but somehow he knows in his bones that it will be a boy. Cho Hak-ju is not known for his errors.
The King is still watching him. Lee Chang does not know what he is expecting to see.
Then he turns his head away, sighs, and gestures imperiously towards Lee Chang, beckoning him forward. Lee Chang steps forward and kneels at the King's feet. He feels like that nine-year-old child all over again; but the difference is that, in the years between then and now, he has learned not to cry.
“Chang,” the King says, and Lee Chang feels a hand in his hair, a gentle touch which catches him by surprise. “You have survived, as I commanded you to. And you are all that a father can ever ask for. All that a nation can ask for in its prince. When this child comes, you will no longer be destined to be king. But you will still be a prince, and that is all that matters.”
“Is it?” Lee Chang whispers. “I have been brought up to be a king, with the expectation that one day, it was to be I who would sit on the Phoenix Throne and command the kingdom of Joseon. And now I realise that all that will have been for nothing.”
The King sighs again. “Not for nothing,” he amends. “Your brother will need you as he grows. You are experienced both in scholarship and military command. Do not dismiss yourself so easily.” The hand in his hair disappears, and Lee Chang finds himself strangely bereft.
When next he looks up again, the King is sitting at his desk, reading. The third peak glimmers in the light of his lamp, directly above his head. Lee Chang takes it as a dismissal.
“Chang,” the King says, as Lee Chang turns to leave. He turns back to face him, and the King’s eyes are molten gold.
“Remember,” he says. “Survive.” And he opens his mouth, and emits a piercing scream.
Lee Chang is jolted from his slumber and scrambles for the handle of his sword. He whips around and the blade points directly at Mu-yeong’s throat.
“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong gasps, his hand still on Lee Chang’s shoulder, where he has clearly been trying to rouse Lee Chang from his sleep. “We are under attack!”
Lee Chang’s mind immediately flies to Cho Hak-ju’s miserable face, but he quickly dismisses the notion. There is hardly any legitimate reason Cho can find to hunt him down, after all – Lee Chang’s plans had not been ready to set in motion before he had left the capital.
“By who?” he roars, instead. “Who dares attack – “ He is cut off by another piercing yell, this time of pain, and he turns in time to see one of the guards fall to the ground, a man covered in bloody rags clinging to his throat.
Immediately he leaps forward and buries his blade in the back of the attacker. The blow is harsh, and carves a deep line to the bone. The man jerks and convulses, falling off the guard and rolling onto the ground. Lee Chang is repulsed to see that his face is covered in blood, and that his teeth had been buried in the guard’s throat.
Quickly he bends down and shakes the guard. “Are you alright?” he asks roughly, scanning the wound. It is a bad bite, it is, and the attacker had torn out a good chunk of flesh when he had fallen off the body. It needs bandaging, and so Lee Chang rips off a piece of cloth from the hem of his coat. He pulls the fabric around the guard’s neck, making sure not to pull it too tight and obstruct his breathing, then he ties it off with a quick bow.
It is only Mu-yeong’s reflexes which save him from certain death, in those next few moments.
The man who had been lying on the ground – who had clearly been dead, no one could survive such a blow and live – had sprung up from his supine position and leapt for Lee Chang’s throat. He is too slow to react, and when he turns, the man’s breath is hot on his neck, in the instant before Mu-yeong’s blade whistles past him and separates the attacker’s head from his body.
Lee Chang falls back in disbelief, his bottom hitting the ground, and stares unseeingly at the head on the ground, its teeth bared in a foul approximation of a smile.
“How?” he asks, blankly. “He was dead. I buried my blade in his back myself. I severed his spinal cord. He should be dead.”
Another scream of pain attracts his attention, and he looks away in time to see the other two guards fall, and descended upon by more raggedy attackers. Lee Chang feels his stomach roil as he realises one of the smaller figures among the pack, is that of a child. His hand flies to the handle of his sword, and he is about to rise to his feet and run to the rescue, when he feels the body under his other hand begin to tremble.
“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says warningly, but Lee Chang hardly needs his words to recognise the mottled colour spreading across the downed guard’s face, and the milky film descending over his eyes. He recognises that face, for he has seen it just moments before – on the head that is now sitting, eyes unseeing, among the blood-stained blades of grass.
Purely on instinct, his body leaps back from the guard, and he watches in horror as the guard begins to writhe and shake, as if caught in a fit. His neck arches backwards, beyond what is humanely possible, and his mouth falls open, froth drooling from his jowls. It is the most terrible thing Lee Chang has ever seen.
“Are you alright?” he calls, urgently. No answer, as the man continues to fit.
Then, suddenly, eerily, he stops moving.
“We must get medical help for him,” Lee Chang says urgently, glancing up at Mu-yeong. “He is on the brink of death!”
But Mu-yeong is not looking at him. Lee Chang follows his gaze, and although his body is screaming at him to run, he finds he cannot move. The sight before him is so horrific, it is beyond anything in his worst nightmares.
The other two guards, with their throats torn out and blood gushing from numerous wounds all over their body, are also convulsing on the ground. One of them – the one who had been, only just last night, bemoaning his lack of meat and the royals’ frivolity – has had his eye torn out. The eyeball dangles, almost comically, from the empty cavity of his eye socket, except that there is nothing laughable about this situation at all. Lee Chang turns his head to the side and retches.
As he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, he hears Mu-yeong suck in a sharp breath. “Your Highness,” he says, and his voice is small. “Your Highness!” he repeats, this time louder, and with more urgency. Lee Chang lifts his head, and the group of attackers is looking straight at them.
“They see us,” hisses Mu-yeong frantically. “Your Highness, we must run!”
Lee Chang springs to his feet, but something catches his ankle in a vice-like grip, and he almost falls. He turns, and the body of the third guard – who he had thought stone-cold dead, after his fits! – has roused itself. He is leering up at him, teeth bared grotesquely, and its claws digging into the skin of his ankle.
He is no longer human, some primal instinct of his tells him, and so he does not hesitate.
Again, his blade strikes honest and true, and cuts deep into the body’s abdomen – a blow that would fell any normal man. But the body does not falter, and rears upwards, sword still buried in his stomach, intestines spewing out, his jaws gnashing and aiming straight towards Lee Chang’s face.
Lee Chang yanks the blade from its stomach with a motion that jars his shoulder, for how deep it is buried in the other man’s abdomen. The movement hoists the creature up towards him, and Lee Chang feels its fetid breath against his nose for one terrifying moment – makes contact with its sightless eyes for barely a second – before he swings and takes the body’s head off.
He can’t hear the thud of the head as it hits the ground, and belatedly he realises that the ground is shaking.
“Your Highness, we must flee! Now!” Mu-yeong yells, and grabs his shoulder. Lee Chang springs up and grabs his pack from the ground, where it is lying next to him.
And so they fly, the pursuers hot on their heels. Lee Chang has never run so fast in his life. He feels his heart beating a thousand miles an hour, thrumming through his ears, counting out the beat of his steps as they sprint over the dry grass and across the plain.
They are running too fast to stop, however, when they reach the cliff. There is barely a split second as they see the water loom before them, Mu-yeong looks at him, and his mouth forms an ‘o’ – Lee Chang would laugh, at the surrealism of the entire situation, if he weren’t working so hard to keep from breaking down. He says some words his wet nurse would have shook him upside down for.
And then they hit the water. The impact is like hitting a wall, and it drives all the air out of his lungs. He feels himself begin to sink, his heavy silk clothes quickly absorbing the water and lending him the weight of a stone, and the water bites cold frost into his skin.
Desperately, he kicks towards the surface, feeling his head throb with the pain of his lack of air. The moonlight is bright above the water’s surface, so near yet so far, as if the moon itself is taunting him. His limbs are a leaden weight, and he barely feels himself move. He cannot breathe.
Then suddenly he breaks the surface of the water with a gasp, and air – blessed air – rushes into his lungs. The cold air stings his reddened cheeks, and he already feels the ache of bruises beginning to form, from his intimate contact with the hard surface of the water.
“Mu-yeong!” he yells hoarsely, when he does not see the guard’s head. Moments later, the man breaks the surface, gasping and flailing, his sodden hair and clothes clinging miserably to his skin. Lee Chang knows he looks no better.
“They are too afraid to jump!” Mu-yeong calls to him, his voice bright with relief, pointing at the cliff’s edge. Indeed, the attackers are gathered above them, staring sombrely down at the two of them paddling in the water. There is one unlucky man who evidently was unable to slow his run, and is now clinging to the cliff face.
As they watch, he slips and plunges into the water. He does not come back up.
“It is a miracle,” Lee Chang says in disbelief. “They are afraid of the water.”
“Probably afraid of freezing to – well, death, if that’s even an appropriate word for them,” Mu-yeong says grimly. “And so will we, if we stay here much longer. The sun is rising, and I can see lights over there – there must be a village, or a camp of some sort. We must make for it before we freeze to death.”
With a nod of assent on Lee Chang’s part, they paddle dolefully to the opposite shore and haul themselves up. The wind is cruel and relentless, and Lee Chang feels his teeth begin to chatter. They lie prone on the ground, chests heaving in tune, arms spread akimbo, and staring unseeingly up at the beautiful night sky.
“C-c-c-curse this autumn wind,” cries Mu-yeong. “I am only thankful that it is not winter. We w-w-would be dead by now, if t-that were the case.”
Lee Chang laughs. But halfway through, it devolves into a sob, and he somehow finds the energy to sit up.
He barely makes it up before he feels his stomach revolt, and he throws up all over the ground. The remnants of meat in his vomit remind him of the chunks of flesh the creatures had torn off the guards’ bodies, and the memory makes him heave again. This time nothing comes up.
He turns, and Mu-yeong is shaking with quiet sobs, his jaw clenched and his eyes blinking furiously as he tries to hold back tears. It is the first time Lee Chang has ever seen Mu-yeong cry.
“Mu-yeong.” Lee Chang calls his name, and the gentleness of his voice surprises even him. The guard turns to him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and his fist stuffed in his mouth to block his sobs. Lee Chang tries to find the right things to say.
“They were good, honest men,” he says, at last. “I did not know them very long, but I could tell that they were good men. We will honour their memories and their bravery in the face of unholy evil.”
Mu-yeong chokes out a laugh, and it is an ugly sound. “They were bloody awful at times,” he says, casting his eyes away. “We always quarrelled. They begrudged me my role as your guard, and always teased me for only passing the exam in my forties, when they had done so in their youth.” He pauses to wipe at the sides of his eyes, and when he continues, his voice is quiet.
“But they were good men,” he says, and his voice is full of affection. “You are right, Your Highness. They were honest, and hardworking, and brave. They did not deserve the death they received.”
The sun is rising, and the heat of its rays takes the edge off the cold. Lee Chang tries to ignore the sour stench of his own vomit, and stares off into the horizon. Their attackers are no longer gathered at the cliff’s edge, from what he can make out.
“They were ungodly abominations,” he says lowly, recalling the dark patterns that had been spread across their faces and exposed skin, and the rotting flesh that had been falling off their bodies. “I do not know how it is that they were able to sustain blows that would kill any normal man, nor why they were feeding on human flesh. But they are still on the other side of the river, and I fear for the villages we passed on our way.”
“What will we do, Your Highness?” asks Mu-yeong, and some semblance of normality has been restored to his voice. “Do we still ride – well, walk to Dongnae?”
“Yes,” Lee Chang says decisively. “We must go to Dongnae, and light the signal fires to warn the other cities in the region. We do not know how many of these people are out there, nor what they want. It will be good to prepare everyone for an attack.
“And Mu-yeong?” he says, almost as an afterthought, but as quite an important one. He manages a small smile when the guard turns to face him.
“We will return for your friends’ bodies,” he murmurs softly. “Their bodies will not be left to rot, alone and with only the crows for company. We will return them to Hanyang, for an honourable burial, and for the peace of mind of their family.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says quietly, and he is about to say something else, when they are interrupted by a loud cacophony of clattering.
“Who are you, and what have you come for?” comes a voice from their right, and when Lee Chang turns, he comes face to face with the barrel of a musket.
It is a rough-looking man, smaller in stature but no less fierce for it. His hair is carelessly tossed into a bun, and sweaty strands of it stick to his tan skin. The bags under his eyes speak of countless sleepless nights, but still the hand that is holding the gun is steady and true. A pile of bamboo poles lies by him, the origin of the clattering sound.
“Put down your weapon!” Mu-yeong cries, and hefts his sword. The man spares him a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “Do you know who you dare lift your weapon against? This is the Crown Prince of the Joseon kingdom!”
The stranger’s brows shoot up, but apart from that, he does not move an inch, and the barrel of the musket is still pointed straight at Lee Chang’s face. Lee Chang feels himself begin to sweat.
“You did not answer the question,” he says quietly. “Why have the Crown Prince and his guard emerged from the banks of the Nakdong River, soaking wet and covered in gore?”
“We were attacked,” Lee Chang finds his voice. “By men who ate human flesh and did not balk at our blades in their back. Three of my other guards were felled by the attackers, and we had to flee into the river, which they dared not enter.”
There is a moment of silence, as the man stares at them, his eyes wide, and Lee Chang thinks he does not believe him. Honestly, were he the opposing party, he does not think he would believe his story either, outlandish as it seems – but every word of it is, unfortunately, the cold, hard truth.
“Then they did survive,” the man says abruptly, and his arm drops back to his side. Mu-yeong’s stance relaxes minutely, his blade still drawn, but the man pays him no mind and turns to the river.
“We must return to the other side,” he says urgently. “You must show me where the monsters descended on you.”
“Monsters?” splutters Mu-yeong. “What the hell – beg pardon, Your Highness – what do you mean by that?”
“Those men were dead,” the stranger says ruthlessly. “They frothed at the mouth and fitted to death, but at night they rise again and crave human flesh. They cannot be killed by normal means – only by fire, deep water, or beheading. And if we do not dispose of their bodies by tonight, they will return to kill once more.” He turns to them again, his eyes ablaze. “You must show me where they found you. They will be hiding from the sun, somewhere nearby, as they fear the daylight. We must burn their bodies as soon as possible.”
“We were on our way to Dongnae – “ starts Mu-yeong mulishly, but then he stops as Lee Chang holds up a hand to stop him. If, indeed, these men will rise again tonight to attack more unsuspecting folk… Lee Chang thinks, again, of the villages they had passed on the way, and the playful cries of children that had arisen from those settlements. He cannot let the innocent people in those villages die, not when he can prevent it.
“We will show you the way. Dongnae can wait.”
“Your Highness – “ Mu-yeong says sharply. “What reason do we have to trust this – this stranger? He could be lying. The story he tells – of the dead rising and killing for human flesh? It is a tale that is nigh on impossible.”
“You saw what we saw last night, Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says quietly. “I do not believe those men were human. Besides,” he says, with a weak smile, “I did promise you we would return to retrieve your friends’ bodies – although I did not expect that we would do it as soon as we are choosing to now. Dongnae can wait. If we find these bodies and destroy them, it will greatly thin the number of monsters out there.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong accedes. Although it is not without a final glare towards the back of the man, who is standing by the riverside a little ways away, glancing restlessly back at them as they make their decision.
He brings them to a bridge further down the road, where they cross to the other side of the river, and they retrace their steps in silence till they reach the remains of the campsite.
The ashes of the fire Mu-yeong had lit are still smoking, and the bodies – even those of the guards – are nowhere to be found.
“They must have carried their bodies off,” Mu-yeong mutters, in disgust. Lee Chang watches as the man squats down and examines the ground.
“Do you see any tracks?” he calls, as the man picks up a piece of dirt off the ground and sniffs at it. He spares Lee Chang a glance, then stands up and brushes his hands off on his trousers.
“They went northward,” he says shortly. “Into the forest. There must be some abandoned homes or buildings among the trees in which they can hide from the sun.”
Lee Chang nods, and gestures forward. “Lead the way then.”
They walk into the woods. The trees have shed their leaves and are bare and stark against the crisp autumn sunlight. Frost crunches under their feet as they walk, and the air is eerily still, undisturbed by the sounds of any animals. Lee Chang gathers his coat tighter around him, and subconsciously tightens his grip on the handle of his sword.
“There,” the man says, stopping suddenly, and he points at a ruined shack that lies a distance from them. They make their way over to it, and Mu-yeong tentatively opens the door. It creaks as it opens, and releases a cloud of dust that makes all of them cough.
Lee Chang steps in first, squinting into the darkness. He draws his sword, and the blade gleams dully. The floorboards groan under his feet as he walks, craning his neck to see further than one chok in front of his face.
There – there is a glimmer of something in the corner of the room, he thinks, and readies his sword for battle – then there is an almighty crash as the complaining floorboards finally give way, and he sinks downwards with a shout of surprise.
The landing is unexpectedly soft, and there is a sinking feeling in his stomach as he turns his head downwards to gaze at what has broken his fall.
Faces upon faces upon faces, bodies upon bodies upon bodies, curled up in grotesque positions under the boards. Their eyes are shut in a gross parody of sleep, but their chests do not move with breath. They are dead.
Mu-yeong hoists him from the ground, and utters a hoarse cry as he sees what Lee Chang has happened upon. The stranger is unfazed, however, and begins pulling up the floorboards.
“We must get all of them out, and make sure their heads are cut off before we bury them, so they do not rise again,” he orders. Lee Chang has a very brief argument with a voice in his head – one that sounds very much like the King’s voice - about the merits of following the orders of someone of a lesser station than himself, before he sternly tells himself off and squats down to help.
They manage to pull out all twenty-one bodies of their attackers, and Lee Chang is horrified to find out that he had been right – one of them had been a child, no older than ten years of age, with the same mottled pattern on his skin, and mouth painted with gore. He almost throws up again, then, but his stomach is protesting the lack of food, and thankfully he manages to push down the urge.
Mu-yeong finds the bodies of the guards, one headless and two others still intact. He drags the bodies and the head out and lays them sombrely in front of the porch, aside from the other bodies.
“I apologise, my friends,” he says, under his breath, so softly that Lee Chang knows the words are not meant for others to hear. “I would give you now a burial worthy of the most honourable of men, but alas, I cannot do so. I promise, I will retrieve your bodies and bring them back to your honourable families, so they can pay their respects to you as you deserve.”
The man comes up to him and stands by his side, looking at the bodies of the guards. Then, in a stern but kind voice, completely at odds with his manner so far, he says, “We must cut off their heads as well. Any man the monsters bite will turn into one of their kind.”
Mu-yeong looks torn, and splutters. “That is absurd. Whoever heard of such a thing? Your Highness,” he turns to Lee Chang, and while his voice is accusatory, his eyes are soft with anguish. “You do not believe him, do you?”
Lee Chang sighs, and inadvertently locks eyes with the man. His eyes are fierce, and hooded, but Lee Chang thinks they hold no lies – at least, with regards to his matter. He shakes his head in answer to Mu-yeong.
“We saw it for ourselves last night, Mu-yeong,” he says patiently. “One of them returned to life and attacked me, and the only way of ensuring he did not rise again, was by taking off his head. Think of this,” and he manages what he hopes is a comforting smile, “it would be the kindest thing to do, to stop them casting a blemish on their honourable record by killing more innocent people. They would have wanted you to do it.”
In answer, Mu-yeong bows his head, and nods. And later, when they are done beheading the rest of the monsters, he takes the heads off the guards himself.
“We must dig a pit to bury the bodies in,” the man says, coming out of the shack with tools in hand. He passes one shovel to Mu-yeong, then he looks at Lee Chang out of the corner of his eye, a question written clearly in his face. Mu-yeong’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to interject; but Lee Chang silences him with a look, and takes the shovel from the man.
About an hour passes as they dig into the frozen ground to create a large shallow pit – shallow because they can go no deeper with the rudimentary tools they have, and the hardness of the soil. It is backbreaking work, and even in the cold biting air, Lee Chang feels sweat beading on his brow. The numbness in his fingers and the weariness in his bones does not help.
When they are finished, they haul most of the bodies over to the pit and try, as carefully as possible, to arrange them inside. They were once human, after all, and every human, no matter how small in stature or station, deserved an honourable burial.
When it comes to the three guards, however, the stranger squats down by the bodies and rifles through their clothing. In a swift movement, Lee Chang strides over and has his blade at the man’s throat.
The man pauses in his movements, and looks up at Lee Chang. A swallow bobs his throat, but his eyes hold no fear, and the twist of his mouth belies his impatience.
“How dare you attempt to desecrate these men by looting from them,” Lee Chang whispers. “Is it not enough that their bodies have been so profanely defiled? Do you intend to rob them as well?”
“Your Highness,” the man replies, very calmly – too calmly, for all that he had a blade at his throat – “while you have been sitting in your golden palace, eating the food of the gods, we have been starving.” Very slowly, his hand comes up and grips the pommel of the sword, right next to Lee Chang’s hand. His eyes are dark, and full of resolve.
“The sick at Jiyulheon need food, or they will die by morning,” he says quietly. “Our stocks had already been depleted before the monsters appeared, and now, more than ever, we need food. Will you let the sick and injured at Jiyulheon starve to death, for your honour and morality? This is reality, Your Highness – the reality of us peasants’ lives. This is not the first time I have stolen from a dead body to live, and it will not be the last.”
Mu-yeong is oddly silent, Lee Chang thinks, dazedly. He is able to hold the man’s gaze for a moment – just a moment more - then he can bear it no longer, and has to avert his eyes.
The man coolly levers the sword away from his throat, and returns to searching quickly through the guards’ clothes. He finds a few packets of dried meat and other trail foods, and these he packs them away in his bag.
When he is done, he makes to drag the bodies into the pit, and a small blue square of fabric falls from one of the guards’ pockets. As Mu-yeong and the stranger lug the bodies away, Lee Chang bends over and retrieves the item.
The guard’s daughter has written on it, in shaky writing; Papa, it reads, pleas keep your self safe and pleas bring back some mandu for mommy. We love you! There is a doodle of a girl sitting on what appears to be some vaguely-four-legged animal, brandishing a sword, with her father seated behind her. Lee Chang finds he suddenly has to steady himself against the walls of the shack, as a lump finds its way to his throat.
“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong calls, and Lee Chang looks up with a start to realise that the other two have already hurried some way up the slight incline that had led to the shed, and are now looking back at him – Mu-yeong with puzzlement, the stranger with badly-concealed impatience.
“The sun is setting,” says the man. “I must return to Jiyulheon – they will need help with defence against whatever monsters are left from this pack.”
“We will come with you,” calls Lee Chang, on some impulse, as the man turns to leave. Lee Chang’s words makes him spin round, his faint brows riding high in surprise.
“Why?” he says, and the twist of his mouth reads of his suspicion. “I thought you were on your way to Dongnae?”
“Staying in Jiyulheon cannot be your permanent solution against an attack,” Lee Chang argues, walking quickly up to them; and from the way the man’s eyes darken, Lee Chang knows he has hit his mark. He steps closer to the man, and they lock gazes.
“We can help with your defence through the night, and when morning comes, we will find a way to bring the people of Jiyulheon to safety. I swear this upon my crown,” he says, solemnly, for the look in those burning eyes holds him to nothing but the truth.
“Can a prince run as fast as is needed?” says the man at last, tossing his head scornfully. A sudden flock of crows ascends above their heads, bringing with them a cacophony of cawing, and their shadow runs long. The sun is setting, and night is drawing near.
Lee Chang feels his resolve set. He tucks the talisman into his pocket, and gives the man a firm nod.
the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.
a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)
Count: 7k
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It is a hard ride to Sangju. The day grows long and the shadows grow darker, and they hear the growling of the monsters begin to rumble the ground behind them.
“They are all around us!” Mu-yeong calls, and Lee Chang only detects the tinge of fear in his voice because he knows him so well. “They are coming from the forest, from the plains – we must go faster!”
“How can we possibly outrun them?” howls Cho Beom-pal. “Aah, father, uncle, gods – is there anyone who can help us?”
“Save your breath and do something to be of use!” barks Mu-yeong furiously, as his horse stumbles over a rocky patch. Seo-bi clings on tighter to him as the horse almost falls, but then thankfully rights itself.
Suddenly, two monsters careen out of the woods from beside them, hands extended in claws, and jaws slavering. Lee Chang feels Yeong-shin let go of the saddle behind him, load up his musket, and fire with not a split second of hesitation. The shot catches one monster straight through the neck, and its head blasts right off. The other monster finds itself beheaded by Mu-yeong’s blade.
Lee Chang feels the heat of Yeong-shin’s body seep into his skin, from where they are pressed against each other. It burns him like fire.
A shriek comes from beside them, as another monster leaps at Beom-pal’s adjutant. The man lashes his reins and digs in his heels, cursing his horse and urging it forward.
“Yah! Yah!” he yelps, lashing the reins again. The mare charges forward, eyes rolling and mouth foaming. As it feels the fetid breath of the monster against its rump, it squeals in terror and rears. Yeong-shin discharges another shot from his musket, which blows the head of the monster off, but the damage is done – the adjutant has been tossed from his horse, and he hits the ground with a sickening thud and a cry of pain.
Lee Chang swiftly reaches out and catches the reins of the man’s horse, yanking hard and bringing the mare to a stop. He leaps off his own steed and hauls the adjutant to his feet, quickly checking him over – it appears nothing has broken or sprained, although he will likely have a nasty bruise in the morning. Lee Chang hefts the man back onto his horse, and just as he is turning to return to his own steed, the bang of the musket echoes right next to his right ear, setting off a ringing sound that sends him reeling. The gore from a now-headless monster splatters his face.
The air whistles and rings in his ears, and he stumbles, disoriented by the discharge of the gun. Suddenly, the weariness of the past few days begins to tug at his body, and the sun suddenly seems too bright - while he urges his limbs on, somehow they begin to give way -
Then a hand grips his shoulder roughly and heaves him closer till he feels himself bump against the warm flank of his horse. His fingers dig into the rough hair of the beast, and it grounds him. Dazedly, in spite of the bright spots dancing across his vision and the tinny roar in his ears, he manages to pull himself back into the saddle. Hands grip round his waist, tentatively at first, then firmly.
“Apologies for the familiarity, Your Highness,” comes Yeong-shin’s voice from behind him, the edge of it smoky and dark, “but you would have fallen off the horse without it.”
Abruptly he feels himself sober up, and he blinks away the dots clouding his sight. He lashes the reins again, choosing to ignore Yeong-shin’s words, and the horse is off. He cannot, however, ignore the weight of Yeong-shin’s arms around him, and he wonders why the heat of the other man’s skin burns him so.
Finally, they manage to outride the monsters with few other incidents, save for when a monster had grabbed hold of Seo-bi’s skirt and almost yanked her off. She would have died then, if not for her deathly-firm grip around Mu-yeong’s waist, his quick reflexes, and his blade.
When they are sure that the monsters are far behind them, they make camp. The moon is high in the sky, and more than half the night is gone. Mu-yeong lights the fire and unloads the supplies from the horses.
They eat in silence, each of them on tenterhooks, just waiting for the moment when the monsters break through the trees around them. But that moment, thankfully, never comes.
When they are finished with their meal, Mu-yeong lays out the bedrolls and comes to Lee Chang’s side.
“Your Highness,” he urges, and the carefulness of his voice chafes at Lee Chang’s skin. “You must sleep. You’ve not slept for two days now. You must take care of yourself, you’re not used to so many nights on the road and such difficult circumstances - ”
“Is any man naturally used to such hardship?” interrupts Lee Chang, and he feels his jaw clench, involuntarily. “No man is born used to such circumstances, and so I must bear them as any other man must.”
“We should take the watch in turns,” Yeong-shin says quietly, and they turn to look at him. He is watching the forest, his eyes still bright and alert despite the exertions of the day, but he tilts his head in their direction in acknowledgement of their attention. “There is no use depriving ourselves of the rest we need. I can take first watch.”
A pause, then Lee Chang acquiesces reluctantly – no use fighting against such logic. He bids goodnight to Mu-yeong, hoping the gentleness in his voice conveys his regret at his previous irritation, and from the guard’s response, all is forgiven.
He lays down in his bedroll and stares up at the sky, counting the stars. They are much clearer here than in Hanyang, he finds himself thinking. There are too many bright lights in Hanyang.
“Lord Cho and I will hunt some food in the forest,” the adjutant is saying, as Lee Chang drifts off to sleep. “Fresh meat would be good for a second meal. His Lordship – and I’m sure the Prince as well – is accustomed to having freshly-cooked meat on his table.”
“Hunt for food?” comes Cho Beom-pal’s voice with obvious unwillingness. “But we already had dinner. And I only just got out my bedroll - ” There is a scuffling noise, then suddenly his voice falls silent. Yeong-shin says something in a voice so low Lee Chang cannot catch the words, then comes the sound of footsteps tromping off into the woods.
He falls asleep to the rhythm of Mu-yeong’s breathing next to him.
***
The plant grows only in the coldest of valleys, and holds the key to undying life.
Seo-bi wonders if there had been truth to her master’s words. At the time, she had thought it mere drunken ramblings on the part of a man who was unused to drink. It had been just about a week ago, when she had returned to her master’s office from a day of gathering herbs and tending to the sick, and she had discovered her master stone-cold drunk.
It had been an alarming experience for her then – not because he was a violent drunk, no, but simply because she knew him not as a man who was addicted to the bottle. And yet that day he had been out of his mind in a drunken haze. She knew it must have been a grave matter indeed that had driven him into such a state.
As she had tidied away his bottles and helped him to his bed, he had stared at the ceiling with a terrible melancholy, and suddenly his fingers were around her arm in a vice grip.
“The resurrection plant,” he had whispered. “Ah, it will be my undoing…”
His words must have been true then, she thinks. How else can she explain this awful phenomenon? She shudders in pity to think of her master as one of the monsters – her master, who had been so very dear to her and the rest of the nurses, with his brilliant mind and his endless patience and capability for kindness. He did not deserve such a fate, she thinks, and neither did her fellow physicians – but then again, no one does. Not even the most evil of men.
Grubbing around in the dirt and absorbed in her thoughts as she is, she does not realise she has company until she hears raised voices from somewhere nearby. It sounds like the magistrate of Dongnae and his assistant, and she looks up, a cautious greeting ready on her lips - when she realises that the two are in the midst of a fierce argument, clearly not meant for the ears of anyone else.
It is not her way to eavesdrop, and so she is about to make herself scarce, but she catches mention of the Crown Prince, and it stops her in her tracks.
“We cannot run,” protests the magistrate. “The Crown Prince - ”
“Will not be Crown Prince for much longer,” the other man hisses. “Your cousin the queen is pregnant, and will birth a son very soon. You are a member of the Haewon Cho clan! Once the royal heir is born, no one will be able to touch you, even the Crown Prince. We should run to Hanyang and claim credit for fighting back the monsters in Dongnae, for our own. Your uncle will reward us richly.”
The magistrate still looks torn, as his adjutant continues. “It will do us no good to be associated with the current Crown Prince,” he urges the magistrate. “Once the new Crown Prince is born, this prince will be an enemy of your clan. We must disassociate ourselves with him as soon as possible.”
“What about – what about Seo-bi?” and Seo-bi starts at the sound of her own name coming from the magistrate’s lips.
“Who?”
“The physician,” he amends, looking down at the ground.
“Aish - forget the physician!” snaps the assistant. “There will be many more women in Hanyang. You will soon forget her plain face and plainer clothes. She is nothing compared to the beauties of the capital.”
“But…” and the magistrate’s voice fades to a murmur as they tromp off noisily, deeper into the forest.
Seo-bi gathers her roots and herbs, and hurries soundlessly back to camp. The prince’s guard, Mu-yeong, is taking his turn at guard duty, and looks up with a tired nod of recognition when she comes back into view. She looks at the prince – he is fast asleep in his bedroll, and so she approaches the guard instead, and tells him of what she has overheard.
“We must tell the prince,” she says. “They are planning to abandon him.”
The expression on Mu-yeong’s face is grim, and he thanks her for bringing him this news. He glances at the prince, sleeping like a baby in his bedroll, then he shakes his head.
“Let them run,” he says contemptuously. “The prince need not have saved that foul man’s life – he will forfeit it at some point in his miserable life. They are nothing but dead weight to us. We must not trouble the prince with this – he has much on his mind, and he needs his sleep.”
Some of her hesitance must have shown in her face, for Mu-yeong sighs, and shakes his head again. “You do not know how sheltered the prince is,” he murmurs. “His father’s status has always shielded him from the worst of the outside world. We must let him take his necessary rest, if he is to be at his best tomorrow.”
Privately Seo-bi thinks, he is not a child, and he seems plenty aware of the world to me, but it is not her decision to make.
“Very well. But I would not trust them with a shift on the night watch,” is her last parting shot, and she returns to her pallet to sleep.
***
As soon as the sun crosses the horizon, Lee Chang snaps back to wakefulness. Yeong-shin, who had been the last one on watch, is cleaning the barrel of his musket and staring watchfully out at the sunrise. He had taken more than his share of shifts last night – Lee Chang is ashamed to admit that he had been barely able to keep his eyes open during his turn to keep watch, and halfway through, Yeong-shin had volunteered to take over.
“I cannot sleep,” was all he had said, “and it would be better for just one of us be sleep-deprived, rather than two.”
Lee Chang looks around, counting his companions. Mu-yeong is rising as well, and he can see Seo-bi shivering in her bedroll, covered by a thin sheet of fabric.
They are missing two pallets.
“I let them run,” Yeong-shin says quietly, as Lee Chang leaps to his feet. At his words, Lee Chang whips round to stare at him, and he lifts hooded eyes to meet Lee Chang’s. “Rest assured, I didn’t let them take any of the food.”
Lee Chang looks around him, and none of the others seem very surprised.
“You knew about this?” he directs his question to Mu-yeong, who nods and gets up.
“Seo-bi overheard some of their conversation last night,” he explains. “They were planning to flee directly to Hanyang, to seek refuge with Lord Cho – I believe the magistrate is his nephew.”
Lee Chang sighs. Well, it hardly matters to him anyway – they are hardly worth wasting thought over. At least Yeong-shin had saved them their food and water. It is not as if either of the two had been particularly useful to them anyway.
They pack up quickly and quietly, as the sun ascends and paints the bare tips of the trees with golden light. Lee Chang shivers, and draws his robes closer around him. His breath makes mist of the air; he wonders idly if he will be back in Hanyang before winter truly breaks.
Likely not, with the way things are going.
Again, they ride hard and fast to Sangju. By Yeong-shin’s count, they will be able to reach Sangju by the afternoon, and Lee Chang is glad for that – any time wasted outside of the citadel is time that they will have to spend fighting for their survival against the monsters.
Later, as they are riding on the banks of the Namhan River, with the gates of Sangju in sight, Mu-yeong spies a body floating on the water. It is with a grim sense of trepidation that Lee Chang urges his mount forward.
He and Yeong-shin gaze upon the back of the adjutant, his pricely silk robes and garments now soaked through with dirty river water, and nibbled at by curious fish.
“He died a coward’s death – he did not stand before them as a man would, but fled like a rat,” Mu-yeong hisses, riding up behind them, and spits into the water. They can all see for themselves the path of the bites along the dead body’s back.
“They must have run into the monsters,” Lee Chang decides. “Those are the teeth marks of a human.” And for good measure, he descends, and slices the man’s head from his shoulder. The head floats upwards now, his ghostly face peering up at them from the water, expression contorted into a ghoulish one of terror.
“Where then is the magistrate?” asks Seo-bi.
“Oh, he’ll turn up sooner or later,” Yeong-shin speaks up for the first time in hours. He shrugs. “That man strikes me as the kind of man who somehow survives anything life throws at him.”
“Are we speaking of the same person? Cho Beom-pal, the magistrate of Dongnae?” Mu-yeong asks sceptically, and Lee Chang cannot help but agree – the man might not have been as conniving as his assistant, but survival skills had not seemed to lie on his list of merits.
“Just a feeling,” Yeong-shin says cryptically, and says no more on the matter.
***
It is late into the afternoon when they reach Sangju, and it is with a sense of foreboding that they approach, for they can see a crowd of people banging at the doors, but the gates are not budging. Up on the walls are archers, who occasionally fire a warning shot into the ground, or into the shoulder of a peasant who is brave enough to scale the wall. Lee Chang recognises some of the people who had fled Dongnae, although other faces are foreign to him – they must belong to refugees who have similarly fled the monsters, from other villages around Dongnae and Jiyulheon. His fingers tighten around the reins, and he feels a cold fury shake his bones.
As he and his companions approach, some of the people recognise him, and one of them almost faints in relief. “Your Highness!” cries the old man who had taken charge of Dongnae before. “They will not let us in – they say they do not have space to house all the refugees! Please save us, Your Highness!” and he drops to his knees with difficulty, to kowtow.
“Please save us, Your Highness!” chorus the rest of the people of Dongnae, as they recognise him, and even the refugees who did not come from Dongnae soon catch on and follow suit. An uneasy murmuring starts up on the fortress walls as the chants grow louder, and the archers halt their attack.
Lee Chang lifts his head, and he feels the light of the waning sun slant across his face. “Magistrate of Sangju!” he bellows, and the soldiers on the walls are shocked into silence.
There is no response for a few moments, then a man cloaked in armour leans over the walls.
“The magistrate is otherwise occupied,” he shouts back. “State your business with the Lord of Sangju!”
“Does the Crown Prince need a reason to speak with the Lord of Sangju?” Lee Chang replies wrathfully, with a sense of déjà vu biting at his skin. The soldier’s mouth drops into a perfect ‘o’, then he retreats hurriedly. It is a few moments before he reappears, almost tripping over himself in his haste.
“Crown Prince Lee Chang!” he calls. “It is an honour! Please enter the citadel. We cannot accommodate your companions, however – please understand, we do not have sufficient food nor housing for all the refugees!”
“Why, those - ” Mu-yeong starts forward furiously, but Lee Chang halts him. He looks at the people around him, their expectant eyes and gaunt faces, and abruptly his decision is made for him.
“I will gain sanctuary for all of you,” he murmurs, softer so the men on the walls cannot hear. “All I ask in return is your trust – your trust that I will deliver.”
There is no answer from the people, who remain prostrate on the ground. The air is very still, and Lee Chang waits with baited breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees Yeong-shin watching him intently.
Then the old man looks up, the gaunt lines and shadows of his face even more prominent in the fading light. “We trust you, Your Highness,” he croaks. “You saved us from the monsters in Dongnae – you will save us again here in Sangju.”
Lee Chang involuntarily expels a breath of relief, and he feels the tension leave his body. He had not expected them to place their confidence him so easily, for these people are obviously hard-worn by hard winters and harder masters. He had sensed that their trust would not come so easily – and yet, they do trust him. The weight of their faith touches him, and he vows to protect them with all the power that he holds.
He nods, then turns back to the soldier on the walls, who is awaiting his reply.
“I will enter with my royal guard,” he replies, and he cannot help the sardonic edge that then slips into his voice. “Surely he is not too much of a burden on your resources as well?”
The man executes a quick bow. “Thank you, Your Highness!” he calls in answer, and disappears once again. A few moments later, the gates creak open, and soldiers peek out, weapons extended to block any peasants who would attempt to rush in beside Lee Chang and Mu-yeong. Thankfully, none of the peasants make any move to break through the barrier, and therefore no casualties ensue.
Yeong-shin swings himself off the horse, and looks up at Lee Chang with dark eyes. As Lee Chang watches him descend, he finds Yeong-shin’s name slip out of his mouth, unbidden, unsought-for. Yeong-shin blinks up at him questioningly.
“Do you trust me,” Lee Chang asks, softly, so softly that none but the two of them can hear his words; and he does not know why it matters so, to him – the answer of this man, in particular.
Yeong-shin hesitates, then his mouth twists, and he nods. It is no certain answer - but it is an answer nonetheless, and Lee Chang finds himself curiously comforted by it.
He is met by the magistrate of Sangju as he enters, an old man with an overly-deferential manner which immediately rubs him the wrong way. As the gates slam shut behind him and Mu-yeong, he hears the cacophony of wails and cries outside the walls magnify in volume, and it only strengthens the resolve in his heart.
“Thank you for understanding our situation here, Your Highness,” natters the magistrate, as they walk through the streets, heading for the main building and his office. “There have been monsters besieging our citadel for the past few days – they first appeared in our midst a few days ago, and we had great difficulty chasing them out, but we managed to drive them out in the end with the help of Lord Ahn Hyeon and his men. They were visiting at the time, and they managed to send the monsters running with the aid of their blades and flame. Please watch your step – yes, please be careful, the steps are quite old… And this is my office, Your Highness, please take a seat…”
The moment they enter the room and the guards close the doors behind them, Lee Chang lifts his fist and delivers a solid blow to the jaw of the governor.
He falls, howling and cradling his chin, and staring in angered bewilderment up at Lee Chang. “Your Highness!” he says, aghast. “What – why – what sin have I committed, to deserve such a punishment?”
Lee Chang towers over the man, taking vicious pleasure in the way he cowers back under Lee Chang’s shadow.
“What has happened to the officials of Joseon, to make them so,” he hisses. “Cowards, the lot of you, and undeserving of your titles. Did you not take the oath to protect our people when you ascended to your position? Have you forgotten that your duties and your protection extend not only to the rich and decorated, but also the poor?” He takes a moment to savour the fear in the man’s eyes. He is not usually cruel, but the thought of the people of Dongnae and its surrounding villages banging helplessly at the gates of Sangju – gates which they had no hope of opening – makes him crueller in his reprimand.
“Not only have you denied asylum to the people at your gate,” he roars, “but you have also denied your own people of Sangju their needs. You and your men look well-fed and satisfied, while I counted no less than ten beggars on the streets we passed. Men are dying both within and without your walls, while you sit by and do nothing. You disgust me.”
“Your Highness,” comes a calm, familiar voice from behind him, as the rustle of the doors slipping open echoes through the room, and Lee Chang whips around, furious at the interruption – but he is greeted by the sight of a very dear friend, and his former master.
“Lord Ahn Hyeon,” he says, mustering a smile. “Master.”
The man steps in, accompanied by his faithful guard, and shuts the door quietly behind him. He stands over the magistrate on the ground in silence, his face blank. Lee Chang takes this as his cue to continue.
“Let the people of Dongnae in,” he says sternly. “Will you have their deaths on your conscience?”
“I cannot,” says the governor stubbornly, his face hardening into a pugnacious mask. “We do not have enough supplies to accommodate so many. It will be certain death for all, if we let those refugees into Sangju.”
“Then you are relieved of your duty,” Lee Chang says, very calmly. The man stares up at him with comically-wide eyes.
“You cannot,” he says in disbelief. “You – I have been given this position by the king himself - ”
“How dare you speak to me as if you were above your station,” Lee Chang says. “You dare to drop honorifics with me? Who do you think you are?” Mu-yeong unsheathes his sword and steps forward threateningly. His shadow looms large against the flickering light of the lamp. They have little time, Lee Chang knows, and his patience is wearing thin.
“The people under Sangju will be under my protection from now on,” he says quietly, and the tremor in his voice betrays the strength of his feeling. “You are dismissed.”
As he spins around and strides through the door, he catches Lord Ahn Hyeon’s eye. The man betrays no emotion, as usual – he has always been good at keeping his poker face, Lee Chang remembers – but he nods slightly as they leave, and Lee Chang feels the warmth of his approval spread through his chest. He inclines his head in return, knowing his master will deal with the magistrate – well, the now former magistrate - and steps out of the room.
He goes immediately to the walls above the gates, where the man in armour who had greeted him on the walls is waiting. The man is evidently a commander of the battalion, from his garb, and so Lee Chang directs his orders to him.
“By royal command, the former governor of Sangju has been removed from his position,” he says abruptly, wasting no time and continuing so the man cannot interrupt. “I have taken over command of Sangju, and my first command will be this – open the gates and allow the entry of the refugees from Dongnae and its surrounding inhabitations. Quickly, before the sun sets and they are at the mercy of the monsters.”
The man is commendably quick on the uptake, and he bows in answer with no rebuttal. “As you wish, Your Highness, so it will be done,” he says, and hurries down the stairs. He barks several sharp orders at the soldiers, and they hurry to the gates, which they pry open. The people flood in quickly, some who had been pressed against the gate falling and almost being trampled upon by the rest. Lee Chang espies Seo-bi and Yeong-shin entering with the rest of the people, and they look up and catch his eye.
The movement is slight and Lee Chang almost misses it, but Yeong-shin inclines his head, and his eyes still burn like an inferno.
“Your Highness. Your Highness!” Lee Chang starts, and realises that Mu-yeong has been calling his name for a while. He blinks, and Yeong-shin is no longer looking in his direction.
“Yes,” he says, turning to his guard. “What is it?”
“Lord Ahn Hyeon has asked you to meet him in his lodgings,” he murmurs. “He says that he has important things to speak of, with you.”
“Thank you,” Lee Chang says, still rattled. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, then smiles weakly, and pats Mu-yeong on the shoulder. “Let the guards know to provide the appropriate lodgings for Seo-bi and Yeong-shin – they must be rewarded for taking the dangerous path with us. Then you must go and rest, Mu-yeong. You have had a difficult past few days. Enjoy your dinner.”
“As you wish, Your Highess - then I will see you later.” Mu-yeong bows, and takes his leave. Lee Chang follows the guard who had been sent to fetch him to Ahn Hyeon’s study.
He ducks his head to avoid hitting the beam of the door, and enters. His former master is seated at his table, facing the door, scrolls piled neatly next to him, and one unfurled in front of him. The room is clean and spartan, barely-lived in, and the sparse light from various candles flickers across the room.
Lee Chang has to suppress the urge to smile. The scene is almost painfully nostalgic, in a way, and it makes him feel like a nine-year-old child again; eager to see his accomplished master, eager to spend time with the man who had had the most faith in him at the time.
“How many years has it been, Master?” he says quietly, as he takes his place at the table. Lord Ahn Hyeon looks up at him, and the edge of that sharp gaze has not been dulled by time.
In fact, Lee Chang is struck by how little he has changed in the intervening years. A touch of grey in his beard, perhaps, or a few more creases by his eyes, or a little more looseness in the skin about his jowls; but otherwise, the line of his jaw is still stubborn and strong, and his movements are still careful and measured as he puts away the scroll he has been reading.
“Far too many years, Your Highness, for you to still be calling me your master,” Lord Ahn Hyeon replies calmly. “How have you been keeping yourself?”
“Still alive, as you can see,” Lee Chang answers, and they share a smile of weary amusement at the old joke. “And you – you are still in Sangju.”
“It has only been three years since my dear mother passed on. I stay here to pay my respects to her.”
“As you should. But this matter – with the monsters - ” Lee Chang hesitates, at a loss as to how to continue, and so he just launches straight into an account of what has transpired the past few days.
When he has finished, Lord Ahn Hyeon sighs. It is the only sign that betrays his agitation, for otherwise his posture remains rigid and composed.
“So Dongnae and its surrounding villages have fallen,” he murmurs. “And thus it has come to Sangju.”
Lee Chang leans forward. “How did the infection start in Sangju? From the monsters in Dongnae?”
Lord Ahn Hyeon shakes his head. “As far as we can determine, no. One of the guards on watch at the food hut was the first to contract the disease, and so we lost an entire contingent of guards before the alarm was sounded.”
“How did the infection start?”
“We do not know, but our investigations have shown that he was not bitten, and the infection was planted in him somehow.”
Lee Chang pauses, and frowns. “Investigations?” he asks. “How - ?”
Lord Ahn Hyeon nods. “We managed to confine some of the infected in the jail cells. We wanted to find out what cause the illness and how it develops, and so we have been conducting a few – tests – on them.”
“Tests?” Lee Chang says slowly, and the meaning of the word slowly dawns on him. He rises to his feet, and his fingers dig into the grain of the table. His repugnance brings the incredulity to his voice. “You mean – experiments? These were once human beings, master – you cannot be allowed to experiment on them. Killing them is one thing, but defiling their bodies in such a way even after their death - ”
“Your Highness.” Lord Ahn Hyeon cuts him off, and the sternness in his voice stops Lee Chang in his tracks. He does not meet his eyes, but carefully lifts himself from his seat. He stands by the darkened window, and it casts the lines of his craggy face in shadow. Lee Chang can no longer see his eyes.
At last he speaks again.
“Your Highness, I understand you were sheltered,” he says, very slowly, each word quiet and measured, as if he is reading from a script; a script over which he has spent nights and days pondering. “But this is the reality of war. And we are at war, with these monsters. Of course I regret our actions, but we have no choice. The necessity of this is undisputed.” He turns, and returns his placid gaze to Lee Chang. “Remember, these are no longer human beings. They are no longer alive.”
I am not sheltered, Lee Chang wants to stay, the sting still fresh from Mu-yeong’s words – overheard, as he had been awoken from his sleep by the tail-end of Mu-yeong and Seo-bi’s conversation the previous night. I am no longer a child. But the words stick in his throat, and he finds himself flushing instead, with what he is sure is an ugly flush. He cannot realise a rebuttal to his master’s words.
“Fine,” is the word he settles upon, and he profoundly hates the childishness of the word, “fine. I accept the necessity of the action, but not its morality. At least – I have brought with me a physician who was in the employ of Lee Seung-hui, the former court physician – I do not know if you recall him? She was the only one of his physicians left alive from Jiyulheon. Let her visit the jail cells tonight. I am sure she will have something to contribute.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” Lord Ahn Hyeon says, with a bow. He resumes his seat, and if Lee Chang were a few years younger, he would quailed under the intensity of his gaze – but, now, somehow, he manages to hold his own. “What will you do now, Your Highness? Will you return to Hanyang with your report?”
“I will send my report to the king soon via messenger, but as for myself, I wish to remain, and investigate the origin of this plague,” Lee Chang answers. “It is an odd pattern – the disease has not spread organically, from city to city, but rather – as individual sporadic events in different cities. Almost as if… as if someone is deliberately inducing the disease in different areas.” As the realisation strikes him, he jerks up from his chair.
“This must be some plot of the Haewon Cho clan,” he says softly. “Even as they solidify their hold on the throne with the incipient birth of the new Crown Prince, so also do they seek to draw the king’s eyes elsewhere, to distract him from their plots and plans.
And to distract me.” The second realisation comes upon him again with a sudden and startling clarity. He turns to look at Lord Ahn Hyeon, and he feels the cold fingers of fear grip his heart. “They wanted to bring me here and get me out of the way.”
“Do you have any proof, Your Highness?” is his master’s only answer. His eyes hold few discernible answers, as usual, and only a deep and questioning wisdom that Lee Chang cannot fathom.
“No,” he concedes, angrily. “I have no proof, only surmise.”
“You will need proof if you are to present your suspicions to the king,” Lord Ahn Hyeon says quietly. “Especially with accusations against so powerful a clan.”
“I will find proof,” Lee Chang says, with a conviction he feels he does not have, but somehow, saying the words gives him confidence. “As for the present, the important thing is to light the signal fires – we must alert the other cities that there is danger amidst them, if my suspicions are true, and to tell them that there is someone sowing the seeds of disease among the various cities. I will journey to Jecheon tomorrow, to warn them in person. And tomorrow, you must prepare for an assault on Sangju’s gates. The monsters from Dongnae will be coming towards us in full force, in addition to the remnants of Sangju’s creatures, and the city must be prepared.”
“Those are good plans, Your Highness,” says Lord Ahn Hyeon. “But for now, you must take your dinner, and sleep – it will do you no good to be deprived of rest. Tomorrow will be a difficult day for all of us.”
“Thank you,” Lee Chang replies. “May I take dinner with you? There is much we must catch up on. The last three years have been too long without you.”
“I usually dine with my men. However, I can make an exception for tonight,” Lord Ahn Hyeon says, but Lee Chang shakes his head, an idea forming in his head.
“May I join you and your men?” he asks. “I will enjoy the company.”
“If you are sure, Your Highness,” his master answers, his eyes widening in surprise, but he hides the emotion quickly, and bows. “We will see you later tonight then, when the dinner gong sounds, in an hour’s time.”
Mu-yeong is waiting for him outside. He informs Lee Chang that he has taken his dinner, and that he has asked the servants to draw up a bath for Lee Chang in his rooms. Lee Chang thanks him for his efforts, and suddenly he remembers Seo-bi and Yeong-shin.
Where are they, he asks of Mu-yeong.
“Seo-bi is resting in her rooms,” Mu-yeong says in response, and a shadow crosses his brow, “but of the tiger hunter – I know not where he is.”
“Is he not in his rooms as well?” Lee Chang says, as they walk towards his rooms. Mu-yeong shakes his head.
“I asked the guards to provide them rooms, as you bid me do, and after my dinner I visited their rooms – but only Seo-bi was in hers. I do not know where the tiger hunter is, only – one of the guards said that they saw him slipping out past the guards, but I did not have time to find him before I came to see you.”
Lee Chang frowns. “It is dangerous outside,” he says, “even though it is not yet full dark. Why has he crossed the walls?”
Mu-yeong comes closer then, his eyes darting to the side, as he leans in. “Your Highness,” he says urgently, “Did you see how he handled that musket? I have heard that he is merely a deserter from the army – but that is patently untrue. He is no ordinary soldier. No ordinary soldier would wield a gun with such familiarity and aptitude. Who knows if Yeong-shin is even his real name?”
“And so?” Lee Chang asks, stopping in his tracks and turning to look at Mu-yeong’s honest, upturned face. “Who do you think he is, then?”
“He may be a spy,” whispers Mu-yeong. “You have many enemies in the court of Hanyang – he may serve one of them. Perhaps for Lord Cho, as a means of keeping an eye on you while you are out of his reach, here in the south.
“He is a chakho,” Mu-yeong continues. “He said himself that he is a tiger hunter. I am sure of it! Only a chakho would be so experienced with a gun, and with dealing out death so casually. Those men are mercenaries, Your Highness – they’d easily sell their soul to the highest bidder. You must be careful of him.”
“Fine,” Lee Chang snaps, irritated, although he does not know why, and he immediately regrets the annoyed edge to his voice when Mu-yeong recoils, surprise and hurt clear on his face. “Fine,” Lee Chang tries again, and the edge in his voice is smoothed. “I will find him, and speak to him. No use putting him on his guard, if he is indeed a spy.”
“I will come with you - ” Mu-yeong presses, but Lee Chang shakes his head.
“Go and sleep,” he says. “I know you barely slept last night, even while I slept like a baby. You must take care of yourself – and trust in me.”
“I worry for you,” says Mu-yeong, in a rare display of forgotten deference. It is times like these that Lee Chang remembers his impending fatherhood.
“I know,” Lee Chang says, kinder than he had intended his tone to be. “And I thank you for your worry. But you must trust in me. I can keep myself safe.”
Mu-yeong holds his gaze for a few moments more, the fear and doubt evident in his gaze, before he tears his eyes away and nods.
“If he dares touch a hair on Your Highness’ head,” he vows, “I will tear his throat out. Chakho or no chakho.”
“And that is why I have had you by my side all these years,” Lee Chang murmurs quietly. “Thank you for your loyalty and faith in me, Mu-yeong.”
He watches the guard leave with an unfamiliar lump in his throat. As the man disappears round the corner, Lee Chang sighs, and heads for the gates, his bath forgotten.
It does not take him long to find Yeong-shin, seated by the banks of the river. He is watching the forest, and Lee Chang can hear the rhythmic whisper of his movements as he cleans his gun. He makes no movement to acknowledge Lee Chang as Lee Chang comes to stand behind him, except for a soft breath he expels through his nostrils, and a very slight hunching-in of his shoulders. Lee Chang does not know how to begin the conversation.
A few moments drift past, and Lee Chang senses that he is the only one uncomfortable by the silence; Yeong-shin does not seem fazed. Lee Chang clears his throat awkwardly. The crickets chirp, as if mocking his discomfort.
“You must be tired,” he murmurs. “The hour is late.”
“Mm.”
Lee Chang sighs. From his position, he cannot see Yeong-shin’s expression, but he can sense the weariness emanating from the other man’s body. He forms a strong, stable figure, despite his smaller stature, and his stalwartness makes Lee Chang forget that he, too, has been through the strains of the past few days – but the signs are there, nonetheless, for those more astute to find.
“The walls and the guards of Sangju are strong. They will protect us from the monsters. You must rest.”
“That is not what I am worried about,” Yeong-shin answers, but does not continue.
He suddenly stands, holding his gun close to his body. Suddenly afraid he will leave, Lee Chang blurts out, “Lord Ahn Hyeon was my master as a child.”
Yeong-shin slowly turns towards him, his eyes blank. Lee Chang does not know what had possessed him to bring up Lord Ahn - it had been the first thing on his mind, and an unlikely subject for conversation, given that Yeong-shin probably does not know his master; but still, he forges on.
“He was my master when I was younger. He looked after me – there were many people after my blood, when I was a young prince. I was not born of the queen, but of a lowly concubine, and so it made me greatly misliked.” Lee Chang utters a soft, mirthless laugh. “He was the only one I could trust. It was he who taught me to be wary of gifts of food and drink, he who taught me the palace customs, he who taught me how to fight. When he left me three years ago, I thought I would be twice the man I was, when next we met. And yet now I am still no wiser than when he left, and it humbles me to stand before him.”
Yeong-shin does not reply for a while, and Lee Chang feels the flush of embarrassment colour his cheeks – he is thankful for the darkness that now hides his face. He does not know why he has said so much. It leaves him feeling uncomfortable, and vulnerable.
“If you are expecting me to feel sorry for you,” Yeong-shin finally says, so softly that Lee Chang has to strain his ears to hear his words, “you will be disappointed.”
“I do not seek your pity,” Lee Chang says quietly. In truth, he knows not what he seeks from the other man.
“Why did he leave you?” Yeong-shin asks, suddenly.
“To mourn his mother’s death. It was beyond his control.” Lee Chang is startled by the question, but answers quickly.
He looks up, and watches Yeong-shin stare pensively out into the darkness, jaw clenched. He thinks there is a curious tragic melancholy about the planes of his face; a story is there which he knows not, and he has the feeling that it is an important one.
“I have dismissed the magistrate of Sangju, and I plan to leave Lord Ahn Hyeon in his place to govern the city,” he says. “He is a good man, and a good master. He will take good care of the people of Dongnae, and Jiyulheon, and Sangju – all the people within its walls.”
“As long as you have such faith in him,” Yeong-shin answers, cryptically. Lee Chang sighs, and wonders why Yeong-shin seems so opposed to his master. It must be his natural wariness and general unwillingness to easily trust others; but Lee Chang senses that there is something deeper there which Yeong-shin will not tell of.
The dinner gong booms, the sound dissonant in the quiet night air.
“We must return for dinner,” Lee Chang murmurs. Yeong-shin nods, and they make their way back to the citadel in silence.
As they part ways, and Lee Chang heads for his master’s dining hall, he realises that he had completely forgotten his original purpose of seeking Yeong-shin out. No matter, he thinks. There will be plenty more opportunity to sound the man out – but for now, he remains an intriguing mystery.
He makes it to the dinner hall in time, and a hushed silence falls over the company as he enters. They fall forward in their haste to bow to him, and he accepts their obeisance, then bids them return to their food.
“I apologise,” he says, with a wry smile, making his way to the empty seat next to his master, “but I had other business before this – I did not have time to bathe before joining you for dinner.” Some of the men make unintelligible sounds, dismissing his apology, while others avoid eye contact and stare down wide-eyed into their rice.
When he sits down, silence descends. It hangs like a suffocating curtain over their heads. Out of the corner of his eye, Lee Chang notes the indulgent smile on Lord Ahn Hyeon’s face – the man is clearly enjoying himself, and Lee Chang feels a sort of fond irritation at the thought. He clears his throat, once, twice, then makes a vague sort of gesture at the dishes.
“You may eat,” he says, stiffly. “Do not hold back on my account.”
Although the men are at first wary, they soon warm up to his presence – they are good, honest, sincere men, as one would expect of those in Lord Ahn Hyeon’s trusted circle. They speak of their wives, daughters and family, and exchange raucous tales of wartime and drunken antics.
At first, Lee Chang sits apart, sipping quietly at his cup and picking at his food, and he is surprised when the man to his right fills his cup and lifts it to him, calling for a toast. The room falls silent at the man’s drunken impudence, and they all turn towards him, eyes comically wide, as if awaiting divine punishment.
Lee Chang sighs, and lifts his glass to knock it against the guard’s. The room erupts in a cautious cheer, and they return to their meals with heightened merriment. From then on, the braver of the company make a few attempts at including him in the conversation. While he is never truly integrated into the group – he is far too novel and elite a character for that to happen – they do succeed in bringing him some laxity. The wine leaves him loose-limbed and satiated, and he sits calmly in his seat, joining in occasionally with a glib observation here and there. His master presides over the assembly, his words few and far between, but each one clearly treasured and held dear by the men.
“I bought this talisman for my daughter,” one of the men says, and he brings out a square of purple fabric, embroidered with gold thread. “It cost me a pretty penny too! Her mother may not thank me when next I return to Daegu.”
“You should have bought one for her as well,” the man to his right says, laughing. “Women! It is easy to satisfy them with bright, valuable things. I bought this binyeo for my lady, myself. Made with bamboo and engraved with a peony! It will be an excellent addition to her lovely hair.” He brings out the item in question, and it is truly exceptional; the other soldiers ooh and aah over it.
“That is nothing compared to this norigae I bartered for my wife,” boasts another of the men, pulling the accessory out of his pocket. It is a double-jewelled norigae, and its rope of its tassels glimmers in the lamplight. Lee Chang feels his eyebrows rise; the jadeite used to embellish it would not have come cheap. It is a fine piece indeed.
The other guards sigh in appreciation, and the man next to him reaches out as if to touch it, but he snatches it away. “Don’t you put your uncouth paws on it, Kim Joon-sa! I almost lost it two days ago. Bumped into an old man wandering around the food huts, and almost dropped it. Aish! If not for my quick reflexes, it would have been smashed to nothing, and I would’ve had to face a right scolding from my good wife when I return home.”
“Your quick reflexes?” teases another guard, taking a large chug of his drink. “More like the reflexes of the guard on duty – he caught your precious norigae, not you. I was there with you, as you seem to have forgotten.”
The norigae-wielding man flushes, and sighs. He takes another drink. “Aigo, you’re right,” he murmurs desolately. “He was a good man. What a pity he’s gone now. It was a fate I wouldn’t have wished on my worst enemy.”
The table goes silent for a while, as they all pay their respects. And although the room is well-heated by lamps and the like, suddenly, Lee Chang feels a cold shiver go down his spine. It is a cruel reminder that, while they spend their time here in mirth and merriment, it may be the last night they spend together alive.
It will not be their last, Lee Chang vows silently to himself. I swear it on my mother’s grave.
the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.
a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)
Count: 4k
<-- previous
(included my author’s notes at the end this time since this is the epilogue, and i had a lot of feels lol)
“He was a brave man,” Lee Chang says softly. The girl stares quietly down at the square of blue fabric, slightly stained with blood – even though he had scrubbed and scrubbed, the guard’s blood had not faded – and she says nothing.
The guard’s wife has her hands around the girl’s shoulders, and she herself shakes with the force of her crying.
“He was a brave man,” he says again, more gently, and the two of them look up at him. There are tears trailing down the face of the girl, now, and she grips the talisman tightly in her chubby hands. “We found his body again from where we had buried it, and we would like to arrange the funeral for him. He will be given every honour that befits him, for he died to save my life, and I will be eternally grateful to him for his sacrifice.”
“Your Highness,” the woman says, but she cannot continue. Tears choke her throat and render her next words unintelligible. Lee Chang waits patiently for her to compose herself.
“Your Highness, thank you,” she finally whispers, throat hoarse with her tears. “Thank you for bringing Mun-pyo back to us. Thank you for your generosity.”
“Don’t thank me,” Lee Chang says uncomfortably. “It is the least I could do. You have lost the breadwinner of your household, and so it is only right that I give you enough to support yourself and your family. Please – no - ” He catches onto her forearms as she attempts to lower herself in a bow.
“Take it as the fulfilment of my debt to your dear husband,” he says to her, as she lifts her tear-stained face to his in bewilderment, “for I owe him my life.”
***
When he returns to his chambers, he is exhausted, both physically and mentally. The day had been spent meeting and speaking to the families of the three guards who had died to save his life, all those weeks ago when they had been journeying to Dongnae. The men had left behind two wives, two daughters and one son between them, and an aged mother who had broken down completely when told of her son’s death. Lee Chang had arranged for gifts of gold and silk to be given to the families, in compensation for the loss of their men, and for the old lady, he had given her care over to the girl who had given him information in Naesonjae. She was an orphan, all alone, and the two women had taken to each other immediately. The girl herself he had given employ in the palace, under the eye of a lady-in-waiting he knew to be kind and just.
Lee Seung-hui had been found in the dungeons of Hanyang, in one of the dark, damp cells buried deep within the surface, with the basest of criminals as his cellmates. Eventually, under strict and torturous questioning by Commander Min, he had cracked, and finally admitted his motivations for spreading the disease. It turned out that, three years ago, the event that had ended the war had been the formation of a large corps of monsters from the sick people of Sumang village – a plot devised by Cho Hak-ju, and carried out by Lee Seung-hui. It had been fear of exposure of the part the physician had had to play in such a dastardly plot, that Cho Hak-ju had used to coerce Lee Seung-hui into beginning yet another epidemic that had eventually devastated the south.
“One of the men was desperate, and ate the flesh of one of the monsters I was conducting my studies on,” Physician Lee had told the commander. “Then we found that it was eating their flesh that transmitted the plague far more effectively than infecting them manually. Lord Cho wanted to use that to his advantage, to create a distraction in the south that would draw His Majesty’s attention away from his plans in Hanyang. And he had hoped…” Here, the physician’s eyes had wandered towards Lee Chang, who had been standing unobtrusively in the background and watching the interrogations. “He had hoped that one of the monsters would keep the Crown Prince occupied in the south, far away from Hanyang, and that eventually, he would be killed.”
Lee Chang had exhaled then. Finally, the pieces were falling into place. Finally, he understood all.
He had granted Lee Seung-hui the mercy of death, a quick, private death at the hands of Commander Min’s sword. It seemed the thing to do, for the physician no longer wanted to live, and indeed, seemed to have gone half-mad with anguish and self-flagellation at having been the cause of so many deaths. He did not tell Seo-bi of anything he had learned in their interrogations, choosing to spare her the cruelty of the truth, and told her instead that he had died in prison from exhaustion.
He rather thinks she knows something of the truth, but chooses not to pry further. She is perfectly happy in her ignorance.
Lord Ahn Hyeon had also been implicated in the events of the war by the physician’s testimony, and at first, Lee Chang had not known what to think of his former master. The news had brought him anger and betrayal, at first, terrible anger, and a feeling that he had not truly known the man to whom he had looked up his entire life. That this man had been capable of such brutality and mercilessness towards his fellow countrymen had been something Lee Chang had been unable to reconcile with the gentle but stern guardian figure of his youth.
Then, after his initial grief, he had calmed himself, and thought more rationally. It was likely that Cho Hak-ju had been the mastermind of such a scheme, as he alone had the sly, ruthless mind that would have thought of such a plan. Furthermore, reading between the lines of the physician’s testimony, it had apparently taken days for Lord Ahn Hyeon to give in to Cho Hak-ju’s wheedling, and for him to agree to sacrificing the villagers of Sumang village. It had clearly been something he had been unwilling to do.
Lee Chang had forgiven him somewhat, then. He knows that he himself knows nothing of war, real war, despite his experiences in the south – the desperation of fighting against an enemy they had had no chance of triumphing over, the terrible choice they had had to make – sick villagers in Sumang, or the lives of the rest of the Joseon people.
Besides, it turned out to be a moot point in the end. Lee Chang had received a missive a few days after his coronation that had informed him that Lord Ahn Hyeon had passed peacefully in his sleep, the day prior. He had collapsed from stress and overwork, and it was found that he had been suffering from a chronic disease of which the cure was unknown. It had been a quiet, pain-free death, by all accounts, and a fitting end to the dignified and noble man whose only stain on his perfect reputation was something that two people in the entire world knew.
Speaking of ghosts from the past, Beom-pal had turned up in the capital the day before the coronation. Lee Chang remembers the encounter with a kind of resigned amusement. The man had had an unlucky encounter with a troupe of monsters, which had forced him to live in a cave behind a waterfall for weeks until he had been rescued inadvertently by soldiers sent from the capital to clear out the remaining monsters in the south. Beom-pal had emerged a hardened man, lean and fit, with little of the spoiled naïve Haewon Cho scion he had been before still in him.
Lee Chang had promoted him to Minister for Taxation, and summarily fired the previous one on the spot.
“I need support from those who once supported Cho Hak-ju,” he had explained later, drinking tea with the Minister for War, now a good friend and staunch ally of his, “and who better to bring them on my side than the last remaining member of the Haewon Cho clan? Besides, Minister Han was not to my taste. It was as good a reason as any to dismiss him.”
The man is indeed a far better minister than his predecessor, for he learns quickly and now knows how to carry out his duties in a manner that pleases Lee Chang. He still chases after Seo-bi, however, something that never fails to amuse Lee Chang whenever Seo-bi visits him and, with extreme confusion and worry, describes a new malady that Beom-pal has acquired in the past few days and needed her assistance with.
“First it was an infection of a cut on his hand, next a burn on his thigh, and now gonorrhoea,” she reports with obvious distress. “I worry for his health. He must take better care of himself!”
Lee Chang wonders how someone can be so intelligent, and yet so dense at the same time.
For she is indeed bright, and using her intelligence to great ends. Using their experiences in the south and the select few live monsters the soldiers had been commanded to bring back for her, she has been studying the disease that creates the monsters.
Lee Chang misses her dry wit and sharp tongue, honestly – for the past few days she has been gone, visiting the Yalu River to investigate a potential breeding ground for the resurrection plants, but he reminds himself that she is due back any day soon, and that reassures him.
Mu-yeong and his wife are now living in the palace, happily caring for their child, and spending all their days in oblivious marital bliss. It is almost impossible to be around Mu-yeong these days, for all his attention is – rightfully so – completely and wholeheartedly devoted to his wife and child. And so Lee Chang has been forced to take on another, lesser personage as his guard, a younger man who had been Mu-yeong’s protégé and good friend.
He is finding the lack of petty thievery of his daily desserts strangely vexing. Perhaps he will pay a visit to Mu-yeong’s rooms one of these days, and brave the infuriating cloud of marital bliss that hangs around his chambers, just to see his old friend. They had had beef cakes for dessert the other day, after all. Lee Chang remembers that it is Mu-yeong’s dear wife’s favourite. Perhaps he will pay them a visit, one day soon.
And as for Yeong-shin…
A lump rises in Lee Chang’s throat as he thinks of Yeong-shin, and he takes another drink from his cup. The soju burns its way down his throat and brings a pleasant buzz to the edge of his senses, but it is not enough to wipe his memory.
Not that he would want to.
The past two months without Yeong-shin have been… difficult, to say the least. At first he had felt nothing, thought nothing, and busied himself entirely with the running of the country. It had been easy at that time, after all, for there were always power-hungry officials trying to latch on to the throne, and petty land disputes, and aid to be delivered to the south, to occupy his attention. His days had been packed with his duties, and so he had had little space in which to think on his lost companion. Even in the nights he had had little effort to drag up his old hurts, for exhaustion overtook him the moment he fell into bed.
But as his position became more secure, and things began clearing up in the south – and elsewhere, where he was working on resolving the famine that had been plaguing the other parts of Joseon – there came more time to think, and more time to brood.
He regretted nothing, of course. Yeong-shin would have left anyway, with or without the kiss, and Lee Chang had not wanted him to go without at least taking some piece of Lee Chang with him. But it still hurts, to know that he is not wanted.
All his life, he has felt nothing like this, and he likely never will. Their bond is one forged through the flames of death and destruction, and any other romance seems insipid and lifeless in comparison. The officials parade their daughters in front of him often, attempting to find just one who will take his fancy and force him to break his vow, but it is to no avail. The more they flutter their fans and turn their skirts and peek out demurely at him from under beautiful eyelashes, the colder he feels.
A younger him would have appreciated the attention, he supposes. A younger him would have leaped at the opportunity, would have begun a harem like his father, and his father before him, perhaps. But now he is older, and he is tired.
This will likely be his life until he dies, he thinks, and it is not an unhappy thought. He has his friends around him, and a son to coddle and teach when he grows older – and, he has sworn to himself, he will be present for this boy in a way his own father had never been for him. He will give the boy all that he wants, and if that includes his time and his love, so be it. There can be nothing too good for his son, the boy who will be the heir to his legacy.
Yet despite all that, he realises suddenly, he is painfully and terribly lonely.
The thought brings him peace, as if giving voice to his feelings is an absolution in itself, and he looks down at his cup as he fills it once more.
“To loneliness,” he says, with a bitter smile, and his voice echoes around the empty room.
“To not being lonely,” comes a voice from behind him, and a hand reaches out and takes the cup from him.
Lee Chang jerks around, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. It is impossible that someone could have broken through the guards in the palace, not to mention the guard at his door – why, he’s going to kill Mu-yeong when – if – he manages to get out of this, for leaving him to be guarded by a mere youngling of a man who could not even stop one bloody intruder from breaking in –
Then he stops, and blinks. He cannot believe his eyes.
Yeong-shin throws back the drink, and wipes his mouth. He nods approvingly at the cup, and sets it back down on the table. It makes a soft thud as it makes contact with the wood.
Lee Chang’s tongue lies leaden and heavy in his mouth, and at first he cannot speak.
“You - ” he finally manages, and stops there.
Yeong-shin sits down across him, and Lee Chang’s eyes follow him, unbidden, against his will, watching as if to make sure he does not disappear on the next blink. But he remains very real, and very much not a dream.
“You need better security,” Yeong-shin says seriously, picking up the jug of soju, and pouring himself another full cup. This he downs again with a flourish, and Lee Chang watches his throat bob with the swallow. He feels a thin layer of sweat begins to form on his skin.
“You grew a beard,” Lee Chang manages, a particularly asinine contribution to the conversation.
“So did you.”
Lee Chang fingers his beard self-consciously, and does not reply.
“It suits you,” Yeong-shin says abruptly, and makes an abortive moment as if to reach for the jug of alcohol again, but he draws his hand back at the last moment, and sets the cup aside instead. There is a beat of silence.
“Where did you go?” Lee Chang asks lowly, and the rasp of his voice is grating in the silence.
Yeong-shin turns his head, so his face is cast in shadow, and all that Lee Chang can see is the line of his profile, silhouetted against the dim light from the lamp.
“Back to Sangju. To my village. To find my brother.” His knuckles are white where his fingers grip onto the wood of the table. “He is not alive,” he says bitterly. “First I searched Gongju, but the magistrate said they’d never caught a boy stealing a jade hairpin from his wife. At first I thought him to be lying, but the guards’ stories aligned with his. And so I went back to Sumang.”
Sumang, Lee Chang realises, and he feels something horrible coil up in his gut.
“What did you find?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Nothing. I found nothing.” Yeong-shin’s voice is toneless; there is no expression on his face, and somehow that makes it worse. “All I was chasing were ghosts. Beom-il lied – ah, I was a fool to ever believe him.”
Lee Chang feels his fingers twitch, and before he is able to stop himself, he has reached over the table, and his hand closes over Yeong-shin’s own. There is a roughness to his skin that Lee Chang finds foreign, calluses that mark him as a rifle-wielder, cuts and scars of a history Lee Chang does not know. But his hand is warm, and it feels familiar in his grasp.
Yeong-shin looks down at their hands, clasped against the grain of the wood – one dark and scarred, one paler but no less hardened. Something in his body softens, then, almost unnoticeable, were it not for the fact that Lee Chang knows his every, subtle movement by heart. Under the weight of Lee Chang’s palm, Yeong-shin’s hand relaxes, and the tension bleeds out of him – although he still carries himself ramrod-straight and alert.
“I am sorry for your loss,” Lee Chang murmurs, and the words have never felt more hollow. Yeong-shin side-eyes him.
“Do you remember what you said to me two months ago?” he says suddenly, standing up. He crosses to the window and stares out into the darkness. He remains motionless, calm, steady as a rock in the face of a snowstorm – and abruptly Lee Chang feels a wave of irritation wash over him at his composure. It is simply unfair, Lee Chang thinks furiously, that he is the only one so affected by Yeong-shin’s presence, when Yeong-shin is so clearly unperturbed by his!
So caught up is Lee Chang in his inner train of thoughts that he does not answer, and he only realises that Yeong-shin is waiting for a reply to his question, when the man turns and looks questioningly at him. Lee Chang blinks, and comes back to himself.
Then he notices how tightly Yeong-shin’s jaw is clenched. Sees how the tip of his forefinger is beating an agitated rhythm, ever so slightly - but still detectably - against the wood of the windowsill.
“I remember,” he says carefully, weighing every word, for every syllable he utters drops heavily into the silence of the room, “that I confessed my love for you. But I also remember that I asked for nothing in return – that I expected nothing in return.”
“And I told you that I needed time to think,” Yeong-shin says.
“Yes.”
“It has been two months.” There is something in his voice that Lee Chang cannot quite place, and Lee Chang feels a vice begin to clench around his heart.
“Yes. Are we going to keep exchanging statements of fact, or did you come here with something else to say?” Somehow, he keeps his tone light.
It startles a sudden startled harsh bark of laughter out of Yeong-shin, and the sound is surprisingly bright. The snow drifts quietly past the window, piling up on the windowsill, and lending a soft glow to the light that suffuses Yeong-shin’s skin. He looks almost regal then, despite his tattered clothes and rough features, as if he belongs there in Lee Chang’s quarters, and the vice tightens.
“You are a prince – no, the king of Joseon,” Yeong-shin says softly, running his fingers absently on the windowsill, but his eyes are intent on Lee Chang. “And I am a chakho. Nothing more than a commoner.”
Ah. He thinks, finally, he sees where Yeong-shin is going with this.
Something begins to unfurl in his chest, filling his body with a warmth he has not felt in months. Lee Chang stands, slowly, and makes his way over to the window – quietly, gently, as if approaching a wild animal with hand extended, an animal which could either bite or flee at any moment. But he does not think Yeong-shin will do either of those things.
“And so, in our time apart, you have thought of all the reasons why we should not be together,” Lee Chang says lightly, “and you have convinced yourself that these reasons are unsurmountable.”
The stubborn silence from Yeong-shin is enough. He does not make any move to reach out to Lee Chang, but his eyes follow Lee Chang’s movements as he crosses the room, and there is an almost hungry light in his gaze that urges Lee Chang on.
Lee Chang reaches his side, and lays a hand on his arm. The man startles in reaction, just a minute tremor, but because they are connected, Lee Chang can feel his every movement. They are so close that he can feel Yeong-shin’s body heat radiating against his skin, and hear every quick shallow breath he takes.
“I have not, however,” Lee Chang says, “heard anything of what you feel for me.”
“You have not married in the last two months,” Yeong-shin says, looking away and out of the window again. The snowfall is deeper today than it had been all those weeks ago, when Lee Chang had stood by the same window and refused to look at the door till his room was empty. The footprints the palace maids and guards leave – they stay in the snow, now, and remain even as fresh snow falls.
“Yes,” Lee Chang replies, suddenly losing patience. “It is unlike you to be so unsure, Yeong-shin. What is it you wish to say to me?”
“When I lost my brother,” Yeong-shin says jerkily, his gaze blank and unseeing, “The pain was… like nothing I’d ever felt before. I’d sworn to protect him, but in the end, my promises meant nothing, and still he was taken from me. Yeong-ryu… he relied on me, and I could do nothing for him still. Even with all my strength and weapons, there was no one I could save.
“And you…” Yeong-shin’s eyes drift shut, as if he can no longer bear to look out the window. “I can protect you, for now, but there is no guarantee that I can do so indefinitely. The officials will not let you live without a wife, and they will plot and scheme until they can take control of the throne, and if you died… if you died, I do not think I would be able to go on living.”
Lee Chang feels as if he has just been struck by lightning.
Finally he sees Yeong-shin laid bare before him – unsure of their future together, unwilling to be the reason for Lee Chang’s demise, and yet, warring with that fear because of his desire to protect. At the core of this bright, shining, powerful man is someone who is afraid of loss, for it has been his constant companion all these lonely years.
But Lee Chang is different. Yeong-shin will protect him, and he will protect Yeong-shin in turn.
Gently, Lee Chang lifts his other hand to Yeong-shin’s face, and cradles his cheeks in the palm of his hand. Yeong-shin’s eyes open, slowly as if hypnotised and against his will, and he fixes his gaze on Lee Chang’s face.
“I am the king,” Lee Chang whispers, and every word is infused with conviction, for his words come from the heart. “What I want, I receive, and if I want you, there will only be one thing that can stop me – you. You know I will not let the ministers or the people have any say in my private affairs. If I am to be allowed some, occasional, arrogance – why, I have been a good king, so far, and I have done nothing deserving of complaint. I have named my heir, and he is under great protection here under my roof. There is no one who I will allow to have any say in our relationship.” He grips Yeong-shin tighter to him, as if it will stop the subtle tremors that have begun in the other man’s body. “Be mine to treasure,” he murmurs, his head lowered, their foreheads brushing feather-light against each other. “And I will be yours to protect.”
There is a long silence for a while.
“I did miss you,” Yeong-shin says quietly. “Every day. I missed you fiercely. At first I thought I missed the loss of a fellow warrior, someone I respected and loved as a shield brother. Then my longing became more terrible, and I thought it was because I missed you as my charge, as someone to protect. But the truth is not so simple.” He turns his hand, palm-up, so that his fingers intertwine with Lee Chang’s.
“I love you,” he says simply, and Lee Chang must forgive him for not meeting his eyes as he makes his confession.
“And I, you,” Lee Chang sighs, as he leans in for a kiss.
There are many problems as yet unresolved. Lee Chang knows that this will not be the last time their insecurities and inner demons – both his and Yeong-shin’s – damage their relationship, or set them back. There is as yet so much unknown about the resurrection plant, and out there, somewhere, monsters may still be made. The officials wilfully persevere with their scheming and plotting behind his back, and he must continue to strengthen his precarious hold on the throne, all while keeping safe the people who matter to him.
But those are problems for a future him, and a future them. Right here, right now, with Yeong-shin in his arms and the snowflakes falling on the footprints in the snow, Lee Chang feels invincible, and he feels like a king.
A/N: ahhhh it's finished!!! thank you to everyone for sticking with me all the way (readers both old and new) - this has been my first experience with the kingdom fandom and i have to say i've enjoyed every single moment of it. y'all are seriously such gems and it's been amazing hearing your thoughts, speaking to y'all etc ahhhh <3 this was my first (and probably last) kingdom fanfic unless inspiration suddenly seizes again, lol, but this pretty much covered all my kingdom feels.
(shameless self-promotion) and i'm currently writing another monster fic for mdzs/cql so if you're in that fandom i hope to see you again!! please talk to me here on tumblr and seriously, i love all of you so much, thank you!!
read on for long rambly thoughts on this monster:
writing this was sort of a cathartic purge for me, after binging kingdom... i loved lee chang's character so much, honestly, and i wanted to give him a proper love story. i have to be honest, it wasn't till i went onto ao3 that i even considered changshin as a pairing, but after i read a few fics i was like, i'm in too deep ;;; and i wound up wanting to write a story that was a slow evolution of their relationship, from reluctant acquaintances, to brothers-in-arms with unconditional trust, and then slowly, to love. which is why it took yeong-shin so goddamn long to realise he loves lee chang, sksksksksk
but yeah i thought it was far more realistic to write this kind of love story rather than one in which they fell in love at first sight, especially in the (somewhat) au i built, where it probably never even occurred to either of them that (1) they were possibly attracted to men, and (2) that they should even be thinking about love in this period of time wtf ;_; but yeah i thought what would draw them to each other was sort of a more intellectual, spiritual attraction, rather than one based purely on lust (even though they're both very good-looking, i fully admit)...
at first i was dissatisfied with the ending, because it seemed a bit lukewarm, but then on reading it again i thought it had the kind of hopeful, tender feeling which i wanted to conjure... although y'all might feel differently?? I KNOW, I WOULD HAVE WANTED A MORE FLESHED OUT KISS SCENE TOO AHHHHH in my head i was like wtf is this, is it a barbara cartland novel??? what's with that shitty regency-esque kiss description??? but in the end it didn't feel natural with the style of writing and the flow of the chapter to write more into the kiss, i'm sorry, i think i'm just a coward T.T but yes!! please let me know your thoughts!! (and thank you for reading all the way, i know i always ramble lmao)
the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.
a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)
Count: 8k
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“I recognise you,” came a voice from behind him, and he turned abruptly, his hand flying immediately to the knife hidden in his sleeve.
A man stood before him, clad in purple silk, rich and superfluous. An official’s hat shaded his face, but it did little to hide the gleeful smirk twisting his aristocratic mouth, and the fineness of his handsome features which somehow held both arrogance and cunning.
He could feel the tip of a blade pressing into the small of his back. Even if he were to draw his knife, it would not be in time to counter a fatal blow struck to his spine. The knowledge froze him in place.
“Three years ago,” the man said again, his voice sinuous and smooth. “You were one of the tiger-hunters, were you not? One of Ahn Hyeon’s fighting dogs. I am surprised to see you still alive, after the furore of the last battle.”
“What do you want,” he said, and his voice was rusty from disuse. It had been days since he had last spoken.
The stranger laughed, then, and the movement jabbed the tip of the blade further into his back. It was almost enough to draw blood, for his clothes were thin and weathered, and they offered little protection.
“What I want?” the man mused. “Ah, but it would not do to speak so openly. Shall we find somewhere quieter, with fewer prying eyes and ears?”
“I have no choice, do I?” he said bitterly.
“Oh, but of course you do,” the stranger taunted. “You can choose not to speak with me, of course – it is completely and utterly your choice. But then…” Here the man drew out the words, savouring the hold he had over his audience. “ Then you would not learn of the interesting news I have received in recent days. News of a little boy with a missing nose, who was picked up two days ago by the magistrate of Gongju for petty theft. Would you so easily miss this chance for news of your brother, Park Yeong-shin?”
Yeong-shin found he had no choice. He led the way to a quiet alcove he has often retreated to whenever he ate his meals, for it was unknown to many and easy to guard.
When they reached the alcove, the stranger sighed, and returned his sword to its sheath. It was a mark of his confidence in his abilities – and his blatant arrogance – that he failed to keep his weapon trained on Yeong-shin. It was a mistake many had made, and paid for, in the past.
It was only the knowledge the man held over his head, that stayed Yeong-shin’s own weapon.
“Now, where to start?” the man said slowly, pretending to stroke his short beard. “I have searched long and hard for you, as one of the last remaining chakho, and so you will excuse me if I seem a little – overexcited, at having finally found my man.”
“Tell me of the boy,” Yeong-shin said roughly. His nails dug so deep into his palm they drew blood.
“Yes, the boy,” the man murmured, that cold grin back on his face. “Of unknown birth, of unknown age, of unknown name – his only distinguishing characteristic being the lack of a nose. He is known to have made a living begging on the streets of Gongju and its surrounding townships – and petty thievery, as we now know. An offence punishable by death, for he was caught stealing a jade hairpin from no less that the wife of the magistrate herself. I seem to recall,” and now the man dropped his voice and stepped closer to Yeong-shin, “that you had a brother, did you not? Three years ago, during the war. A fine young boy he was – it was a terrible tragedy when the plague took his parents, and his nose. Such a shame.”
“Spare me your false pity,” Yeong-shin growled. “My brother died long ago.”
“But his body was never found, was it not?” the man said. There is a palpable silence.
“What do you want from me,” Yeong-shin said at last. “If it is money, I have none.”
“I do not need what paltry coin you have,” the stranger said dismissively. “I merely need your skills. There is a man who will start out to Dongnae in three days. You are to make sure he dies.”
“What man?” Yeong-shin asked.
“The Crown Prince, Lee Chang,” the man replied, and Yeong-shin felt his blood turn to ice.
“He will be guarded by many capable men. Surely you cannot expect me to be able to overcome them when they outnumber me – no matter my skills,” Yeong-shin said furiously. “It is impossible.”
“Trust me when I say that it will not be difficult to kill the prince,” the man said softly. “Circumstances will arise in which he will be left vulnerable – or he will die. Your job is to make sure he does die. Leave no one else alive.”
“What circumstances?”
“You will find out soon enough,” was the infuriating answer. “The prince will be travelling from Hanyang to Dongnae along the Namhan and Nakdong Rivers. Find him before he reaches Dongnae, and make sure he does not live.”
“Why would I risk my life to complete this mission when the boy may not even be my brother?” Yeong-shin said flatly.
“He may not be your brother, but he may be,” the man said, with another vulgar smile. “Are you willing to take that chance?”
He made a sudden movement, and pulled a musket out of his clothes. The gun was a terribly familiar weight in Yeong-shin’s hands as he caught it.
It was as if he had known that Yeong-shin would be unable to refuse.
Yeong-shin stared down at the barrel of the gun. He remembered Yeong-ryu’s face, and Yeong-ryu’s smile. His fingers tightened around the wood.
“Trust me, you’ll need that gun,” were the man’s parting words to him. “Remember, before Dongnae, Lee Chang must die.”
***
“Before Dongnae, Lee Chang must die,” ends Beom-il, and the smile that snakes across his face is triumphant.
Mu-yeong utters a roar of fury, and instantly he is at Yeong-shin’s side, his blade a hairsbreadth away from Yeong-shin’s throat. The sword trembles in his hand from the strength of his anger.
“Is – is what he says true?” Mu-yeong shouts, and it is a marvel that, even now, Mu-yeong – good, kind, strong Mu-yeong, who despite his wariness and cynicism has always treasured his brothers-in-arms – even now, Mu-yeong is giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Lee Chang feels the phantom touch of cold fingers creeping up his arm. He does not know what to feel.
He looks at Yeong-shin. Really looks at him, for what must be the first time, and there are things he sees, that he had not before noticed. How his eyes are shadowed with desperation, and how he carries the weight of death upon his shoulders – not the death of nameless, faceless soldiers and beasts, as Lee Chang had once thought, but possibly the death of a loved one. The death of someone who had mattered to him. The weight of loss. Lee Chang does not know how he had not seen it before.
If Yeong-shin were to betray them, he thinks, first Lee Chang would kill Beom-il. Yes, there would be enough time for him to reach Beom-il and slit his throat, with Yeong-shin kept at bay by Mu-yeong. Enough time for him to hurl Beom-il’s body at the monster-which-once-was-his-father. And then… and then he would…
Something chokes his throat at the thought of killing Yeong-shin, and he knows that Mu-yeong will have to be the one to deliver the killing blow.
“Is it true,” he says, at last, echoing Mu-yeong’s words. At the sound of his voice, Yeong-shin’s head jerks, and he meets Lee Chang’s gaze with his shuttered, hooded eyes – so familiar, and yet so foreign at the same time. The room is silent, and even Beom-il does not move, his eyes darting gleefully between the two of them.
Lee Chang searches the look in his eyes, and for the first time, he doubts his trust in Yeong-shin.
Then Beom-il decides to break the silence.
“Kill him,” he hisses, thrusting himself forward, uncaring of the blood drawn from the sword at his throat as he leans his weight towards Yeong-shin. “Remember your brother! I have hidden him away, and without me, it will be impossible to find him.”
Yeong-shin is silent, ignoring Beom-il’s words, and holding his gaze with Lee Chang.
“Remember, this man’s father killed your family – with a useless war,” Beom-il continues, pressing forward more, the spittle flying into Yeong-shin’s face, and a mad gleam alight in his eyes. “Your family need not have died, but they did, and all for what? For the pride of a monarch who cares not for his subjects. Will you let this same man’s son live when it is your people who have paid the price?!”
“He will not be the same king,” Yeong-shin says, and his voice is so quiet that, at first, Lee Chang thinks he has misheard.
“What?” Beom-il says, in disbelief. His expression mirrors that of everyone else’s in the room.
“He is not his father,” Yeong-shin says again, very softly, and tears his gaze from Lee Chang’s. Now he stares into Beom-il’s eyes, and the look in his own eyes is a familiar one.
“This man, I would serve with my life,” are his final words, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he tears open a gaping wound at Beom-il’s throat.
A terrible gurgling sound emits from Beom-il’s mouth, and his hands fly to the open gash, which now spills blood like a fountain. The redness of his blood stains the floor a deep, dark brown, and he collapses to the floor as his knees give way from the pain. He looks curiously diminished, a foul loathsome worm crawling on the ground, where he belongs.
“You – what - ” Mu-yeong splutters, having lost the power of speech in his shock. “But Beom-il - ”
“He was not my master, and he never was,” Yeong-shin answers quietly. His eyes are cast downwards, and the arm which had dealt the fatal blow hangs limply by his side.
Lee Chang lifts his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, and he finds that he is shaking. He clenches his fingers into a fist to stop the movement.
“What shall we do with him?” Yeong-shin asks, turning to Lee Chang. Something unfathomable passes across his face, lightning quick, as he sees Lee Chang. Lee Chang realises dimly that he must make quite the picture, staring at his one hand lifted and his fingernails digging into his palm.
It takes him a minute to recover his composure sufficiently to answer.
“Throw him to the monster,” he finally replies, and he lifts his eyes to meet Yeong-shin’s steady gaze. “The blow is a fatal one, and he will soon die even with medical help. He is of no use to us anymore. And,” he savours the words, “it would please me if his death were to involve as much suffering and agony as possible.”
“And what shall we do with His Majesty?” Mu-yeong asks, blinking rapidly, and looking agitatedly back and forth between Yeong-shin and Lee Chang. “What can we do?”
“I will kill him myself,” Lee Chang says, and the words surprise even him.
Survive, his father had said, but now Lee Chang understands the hidden layer to those words. Survive, at all costs, with no qualms. His father is dead, now, and nothing will bring him back. He must be killed for the safety of his companions, and for the safety of the people.
“But not now,” he amends. “We must have proof of the Haewon Cho clan’s misdeeds regarding these monsters – and no proof will be stronger than the king himself. We must find a way to restrain him, and keep him in my quarters until tomorrow, when we may present him to the officials. There is no time to waste, for the queen may already have given birth.”
Yeong-shin nods, and volunteers to look for rope with which to bind the former king. Lee Chang walks up to Beom-il, who is gasping and cursing with pain – with what remains of his vocal cords – and rolling around on the ground, clutching in vain at his throat as if to stem the flow of blood. Already his face is pale with blood loss, and his lips are blue, but still he tries desperately to crawl towards the doorway to make his escape.
Lee Chang supposes he can admire his drive to live, if anything. Lesser men would have given into death already by this time. But his unwilling admiration does not erase his hatred for the man – how can it?
Lee Chang steps close to Beom-il’s face, but does not touch him. He does not want to dirty his boots.
“I have seen things you cannot even imagine,” he whispers, and Beom-il turns enraged eyes upon him, his once-handsome face now a paltry semblance of its former self, distorted as it is by his hatred and agony.
“I have taken more lives than you can even count,” he continues. “Lives which were first taken by you and your father, lives wasted and spent as mindless creatures bent on human flesh. The Haewon Cho clan wishes to ascend to the throne? Ha!” He barks out a single peal of laughter, then abruptly sobers. He leans down, closer to Beom-il’s face, and the man cannot move, not when he is struggling on the last embers of his strength.
“I carry within me the blood of the House of Yi,” he whispers, “and I will not let you fell us at our roots.”
With that, he straightens, and with a mighty kick, propels Beom-il towards the monster-that-was-king. The creature falls upon the fresh blood with frightful gusto, and the sounds of bones breaking, teeth gnashing and Beom-il’s agonising screams causes all of them to turn away in disgust.
They maintain silence for a while, until Beom-il’s death rattles fade away, and they are left only with the sounds of the monster feasting on the bodies. Yeong-shin grimaces and looks at Mu-yeong. While the latter’s face plainly reads his unwillingness to ally himself with a man who had supposedly been working behind their backs for the enemy, he accedes to Yeong-shin’s stare with an explosive sigh.
They approach the monster with blades drawn and, in Yeong-shin’s case, ropes at the ready. Lee Chang steps backwards and checks the doors, just to make sure that their battle has not attracted any unwanted attention from the palace guards – which it has not. He nods his approval to them, and they begin the arduous process of tying the king down and restraining him.
It is not without a few quiet scuffles and a few near misses, but at last, the monster-that-was-king is restrained with a cloth bag over its head and his limbs tied firmly with the rope. It struggles furiously, and they have to put another bag over its head as it begins to chew through the rough hemp of the first. Thankfully, Yeong-shin’s knots hold, and the monster does not escape its bindings, despite its inhuman strength.
Lee Chang finds his feet leading him to the side of the monster. Almost unconsciously, his knees buckle, and he falls to a kneeling position before the monster-that-once-was-his-father.
“Father,” he whispers, and he looks with pity at the blood-spattered robes of the king. He remembers, now, how his father had told him that the state of his garb was to always be neat and proper, as befitted the heir to the throne. Lee Chang does not remember a single instant in which his father had had a single hair out of place, or a mis-chosen piece of attire clothing his body. His father had always been regal, and graceful, and stern.
It is a disservice, he thinks angrily, that his father is reduced to the figure he makes now. It is a disservice, and a grave insult, and he will make them pay.
Beside the monster lies the maid who had been thrown callously to feed it. Her eyes lie open, staring and stark in their gaze of terror, and her face, which might once have been pretty, is barely recognisable, devoid of flesh as her lower jaw is.
Lee Chang reaches over, and passes his hand over her eyes, so that she may be at peace.
As he stands, he turns to Yeong-shin, who is standing behind him and watching his every movement. Even as their eyes lock, Yeong-shin makes no movement to look away.
“How do I know I can trust you,” Lee Chang asks, his voice rough, and although he had not meant it to be so, the words come out with a jagged edge.
Yeong-shin’s throat works as he swallows, the only outwardly sign of his agitation, for otherwise, his face is calm, and his body is still.
“Because you’re alive,” he says at last. “If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead by now. How many times could I have put a knife or a bullet in your back?”
“You said you would serve me with your life,” Lee Chang says steadily.
“Yes,” Yeong-shin answers, and the word is infused with such intensity that Lee Chang feels himself shudder. He hesitates.
“Your Highness - ” Mu-yeong says despairingly from behind him, as if he already knows Lee Chang’s decision. As if he had already guessed, from the moment Lee Chang had first spoken.
“I said I trusted you with my life,” Lee Chang says decisively, and for the first time, he touches Yeong-shin. He lifts his arm and grasps tightly onto Yeong-shin’s shoulder, and he does not miss how the gesture makes Yeong-shin’s body jerk violently. A dull, ugly flush spreads across his neck, barely visible if it were not for their close proximity, and Lee Chang finds that he likes the idea that he is the only one to see it. The only one to see Yeong-shin flustered so.
“My answer has not changed,” Lee Chang whispers. “I still trust you with my life.”
Yeong-shin does not answer, but for the first time, his gaze is clear as he meets Lee Chang’s eyes.
***
It is the next morning that things fall to pieces.
They had brought the monster to Lee Chang’s private quarters, somehow managing to sneak it past the negligent guards on duty, and hid it in a cupboard by the fire. The heat kept it docile, and the shade gave it shelter behind which it could slumber. Seo-bi treats their wounds with a silence that is more telling that any sharp words could be, and they discuss their plans quietly.
The king must be revealed to the people as a monster made by the Haewon Cho clan, Lee Chang had said unfalteringly. We must do so tomorrow, with haste – hopefully, before the queen gives birth.
It is an uncommonly-long labour, Mu-yeong had said quietly. I do not know what she is plotting, but it cannot be good.
We have no choice, Lee Chang had decided. We cannot control what she does, only what we do. We must reveal the king tomorrow morning.
But in the morning, Lee Chang wakes not to the crowing of the cockerels, but to Mu-yeong bursting into his quarters with tears streaming down his face. Lee Chang knows the urgency of his visit from the very fact that he had dared to intrude into Lee Chang’s bedroom without prior notice, for it is the first time that he has taken so rude a liberty.
“My wife, my wife - ” Mu-yeong blubbers, panting and heaving, as if he had just run many miles. “She is gone! GONE!!”
“Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says sternly. “Be calm! Tell me what has happened.”
The man attempts to take a few deep breaths to recover his strength, but it is not long before great heaving sobs take over his body again and send him into a shuddering fit. Yeong-shin bursts into the room, his musket drawn, already fully clothed. Seo-bi peers in cautiously from behind him, and sighs in relief when she sees that there is no danger. Mu-yeong is still crying, so distraught that he cannot speak.
Lee Chang backhands him without hesitation. The blow is hard, but with some small measure of leniency, and it propels Mu-yeong backwards. The force of the blow makes him stumble, and he has to throw out his hand to steady himself against the wall.
“Pull yourself together, Mu-yeong!” Lee Chang roars. “What has happened to your wife?”
The blow has sobered Mu-yeong, although tears still leak silently from the corners of his eyes. Yeong-shin and Seo-bi enter the room proper, and shut the door behind them.
“Last night – I went to Naesonjae – I had a message that my wife was in the midst of labour,” he blabbers. “That she had been since the morning, and that it was a difficult birth – a dangerous one – and I was needed. I rode to her home to find her, but she was gone when I reached her. Not dead, but missing. And then,” he pauses for breath, “and then, her father told me that she has been taken to the Queen’s palace in Naesonjae.”
“The Queen?” Lee Chang says slowly. The pieces began to click together in his mind.
“She was one of many,” Mu-yeong cries. “Her father told me that there have been many husband-less, parent-less women taken to the Queen’s palace in the last month, all with child. She was the only one taken who still had a family. She is alone, and she is scared, and I am not there by her side – Your Highness, I - ”
“Naesonjae,” Seo-bi says suddenly, and there is a growing light in her eyes. “I remember Naesonjae.”
“How?” Lee Chang asks.
“It was… weeks ago,” she says slowly. “I only remember the incident because it was so odd… Master, I mean Physician Lee, asked me to obtain sappanwood from our supplier for reasons he could not tell me. Although we use it frequently, the quantity he asked for was unusually large, and so I had some difficulty obtaining it. When he passed it to one of the delivery boys, I overheard that it must be delivered to Naesonjae and only into the hands of the queen’s head lady-in-waiting, and so I wondered… I wondered why the queen would need such a large quantity of sappanwood.”
“Sappanwood?” Lee Chang presses. “What ailments is it meant to heal?”
“Among others, it is used to remove blood clots after a miscarriage or birth, or to alleviate symptoms related to improper or lack of postpartum care,” Seo-bi answers, and she lifts troubled eyes to meet Lee Chang’s gaze. “It cannot be fed to pregnant women.”
“She is not pregnant, then,” Lee Chang says, and he feels his heart thump faster in his chest. A growing sense of foreboding makes him grip the edge of his table to steady himself. “But how? I saw here just yesterday, and the day before, and she was still as round as ever – rounder, if it were possible! It is impossible that she is without child.”
“If we had more time,” Seo-bi says, “We could have found a way to let me check her medical signs, to see if she really is with child - ”
“But we have no time!” Mu-yeong finishes her sentence, his entire body beginning to tremble violently again as the terrible truth begins to sink into all of them. “MY WIFE IS IN DANGER!” he roars, and leaps to his feet.
Lee Chang follows his movement, and so do the others. “To Naesonjae, then,” he commands, “and quickly!”
***
“What is Your Highness doing here?”
The Head of the Royal Commandery Min Chi-rok can barely contain his shock as he is met by Lee Chang and his companions at the gate of Naesonjae. It is equally surprising to Lee Chang, for the man has never been an inch below unflappable, and to see him so discombobulated is a sight indeed. But these are trivial matters compared to the matter at hand.
“Your Highness!” Commander Min exclaims. “You – you are a wanted man now! What are you doing here in Naesonjae?!”
“Wanted?” Lee Chang says in disbelief. “For what crime?”
“For the murder of Lord Cho and his son Beom-il,” Commander Min answers soberly. “The Queen herself has put a bounty on your head.”
He puts his hand to his sword, although the movement is reluctant, and he does not draw the weapon. Perhaps it is the crazed look in Mu-yeong’s eye, perhaps it is whatever semblance of loyalty he still bears to Lee Chang, perhaps it is his own sense of justice that stays his hand, but no matter the reason, still he makes no move to arrest Lee Chang, and for that, Lee Chang knows he will be a valuable ally.
“I did kill Cho Beom-il,” Lee Chang answers fiercely, “but only in self-defence. And, I swear to you – I did not touch a single hair on Cho Hak-ju’s head. It must be one of the Queen’s plots to denounce and dethrone me.”
Commander Min nods and retracts his hand, some of the relief passing lightning-quick across his face before he schools his expression back to its normal, blank mask. “The Haewon Cho clan and their plots have previously been subtle, but it seems that they have decided that now is the time to make more overt gestures,” he says sternly, “especially now that the new Crown Prince has been born.”
“He has been born?” Lee Chang asks, feeling his breath stutter to a halt. That must mean that Mu-yeong’s wife –
Mu-yeong comes to the same conclusion as he does, at the exact same time, and with a thunderous cry of rage, he barrels past Commander Min and his gathered men, and charges into the palace.
“Your Highness!” Commander Min shouts. “Your guard - ”
“There is something terrible afoot here,” Lee Chang cuts in, and passes a quick glance over his assembled men, before returning his eyes to the commander. “Something you have apparently caught wind of, yourself. We do not have any substantial proof, but we believe the Queen has been capturing and killing young pregnant women from Naesonjae if they fail to deliver her a son – who she planned to use as her own heir.”
From the way Commander Min’s face darkens, it is evident that he had guessed at only some parts of Lee Chang’s theory. Whatever had set him on this scent, however, must have strongly correlated with Lee Chang’s words, because he does not question the accusations and instead turns to his men, standing at high alert behind him.
“Search the Queen’s palace,” he orders. “Leave no corner untouched, and let no one escape.”
The men salute, and spread out to begin their search. Lee Chang and Yeong-shin follow closely behind them.
The Queen’s maids and ladies-in-waiting flood out from the palace rooms, screaming and crying and holding their skirts aloft. One of them darts out from a room, clothes askew, and accompanied by a eunuch with his shirt half-off. Lee Chang casts them a look of disgust, before they are swiftly apprehended by the commander’s men and brought to the main courtyard.
All of a sudden, there is a sharp, piercing scream from a room nearby, a scream that had sounded as if it had come from the last desperate breaths of a woman in peril. Lee Chang exchanges a quick glance with Yeong-shin, and the man nods. They sprint to the source of the scream.
In the room they find Mu-yeong, bleeding from a fresh wound in his shoulder, but with his sword very satisfactorily buried in the abdomen of a man with dark clothing and a piece of fabric obscuring his features. Mu-yeong’s wife lies in the corner of the room, too limp to move, racking sobs leaking from her mouth and making her entire body shudder with the strength of her emotion. There is a bloody trail leaking out from between her legs.
Lee Chang grips Mu-yeong by the shoulder. His guard’s eyes are glassy with fear and shock, as he turns.
“Your wife needs you,” Lee Chang whispers, and it takes a moment, but finally, the fog drops from Mu-yeong’s eyes.
He falls to the ground next to his wife and cradles her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear. Slowly, under his care, she comes back to herself, and her cries become softer, more kitten-like, less violent.
“We must get her to Seo-bi,” Yeong-shin says quietly. “She is bleeding to death.”
Lee Chang nods. “I will bring them both to the entrance of the palace,” he says. “Leave the assassin – he is dead.”
When they return to the entrance, Seo-bi is waiting there, somehow having procured medical supplies, which lie neatly on a blanket laid on the ground next to her. Her eyes widen as she sees Mu-yeong’s wife, and she hurries over to lay her on the ground.
Assured that both Mu-yeong and his wife are in capable hands, Lee Chang turns his attention back to the crowd of the Queen’s servants, who have all been rounded up and corralled in the front courtyard of the Queen’s palace by Commander Min’s men. They are all unarmed, eunuchs and maids and ladies-in-waiting who have never before wielded a weapon, and it shows. Both men and women grovel for their lives before him.
Except for one of them, who holds herself high with an almost-regal posture. Her silver hair and robes make her out as the head lady-in-waiting. This, then, Lee Chang thinks, is the woman who knows the most, and also the woman who will say the least – at least, without the threat of torture.
Lee Chang is tired of violence. If he can, he will avoid the shedding of more blood. It is enough that they have all suffered so.
“Silence!” he commands, and his voice rings out throughout the courtyard. Instantly, all of the captured people fall to their knees – if they weren’t already on the ground – and quiet descends over the group. Lee Chang hears the echo of his own voice, and its power surprises even him.
“We have come here,” he says, quieter this time, but no less fierce, “because your mistress the Queen is guilty of treason. She is guilty of plotting against the throne of Joseon for her own ends, guilty of murdering her own father, and most importantly – guilty of slaughtering thousands of innocent peasants across our land who have done nothing to deserve the gruesome death they have met.”
He stalks the rows of people, scanning them, looking for the weak link. There is no time to lose, and he must strike soon, if not now.
“I know many of you here are innocent,” he continues, and this time his voice is easier, more patient, almost benevolent. There is no artificiality in his gentleness, however, for every word he says, he believes in. “Many of you do not know that your mistress is capable of such crimes.”
“But some of you,” he says, and he stops next to a girl who is quivering and shrinking into herself to avoid proximity to him, “Some of you – you know what the Queen is capable of. Have known all along. But of course, you did not mean to help her in her crimes. You could not have done anything else.”
He looks down at the girl, whose hands are now grasped together in a tight fist, her nails drawing blood from her palm. He feels his heart clench painfully at the sight.
“If you confess,” he says, now very softly and kindly, “you will not be blamed. You will not be held accountable for her crimes. You will be free to go.”
“Ah Ra!” comes a shriek from the front, and Lee Chang’s head whips up to see the head lady-in-waiting, her eyes lit with a fearsome light, and her gaze trained on the girl at his feet. “Remember who your mistress is! Remember who you serve!”
“YOUR TRUE MASTER STANDS BEFORE YOU!” thunders Lee Chang. “WILL YOU SERVE A TREASONOUS QUEEN, OR WILL YOU SERVE A MAN WHO WILL INHERIT THE THRONE? It is your choice,” and he turns to face the girl again, who is now sobbing openly, her face buried in her hands. “I know you are not guilty. But if you do not confess your mistress’ crimes, more blood will be shed by her hand, and the river water will run foul with corpses.
“Please,” he says, and his voice breaks on the last word.
A beat, and then the girl’s voice comes, scratchy and rasping from her tears.
“Her Majesty was taking women from the village,” she whispers, keeping her eyes resolutely downwards. There is another ferocious screech from the head lady-in-waiting, the sound of a scuffle as she attempts to throw herself towards the girl but is quickly restrained by one of the men. Lee Chang does not turn his head to look, for he gives his sole attention to the girl at his feet.
“Young women who were with child but without family or a husband,” she mumbles. “They have been giving birth these past few weeks. But as soon as they delivered, they were killed. For their children were all daughters. It was only today…” she stumbles, and seems to find it difficult to continue, but Lee Chang waits patiently for her to find her tongue again.
“Today,” she murmurs, “today there was a son. And so Her Majesty took the son, and left the mother to die.” A great hiccoughing sob racks her body, and she begins to shake again. “I do not know why she wants the baby,” she cries. “Does she not have her own child? I swear, that is all I know! Please have mercy, Your Highness!”
“You have done the right thing,” Lee Chang says, and he grants her a smile when she lifts her head to gaze at him in shock. “I meant what I said. You are innocent of crime, and you are free to go. But,” and now he raises his voice and his head to look around at the other occupants of the yard – and now his voice is stern and full of barely-restrained fury – “anyone in this courtyard who is guilty of taking the lives of those women – or who consciously aided the Queen in the taking of those lives – you will be subject to investigation and the appropriate punishment.”
He looks at Commander Min, and the man answers with a nod. His men spring into action and being rounding up the occupants of the courtyard and taking them away.
The commander comes to his side. “Your Highness,” he says, his face a grim mask, at the news they have learned of the queen’s plans. He does not ask the question which is plain in his eyes.
Lee Chang exhales forcefully. “We must act quickly,” he says quietly. “Chances are that news of Naesonjae’s sacking has already reached the queen’s ears – we do not know what drastic actions she will resort to when she realises her plans have been thwarted.”
Commander Min nods. “And Lord Cho - ” he asks hesitantly. “His death…”
“How did he die?” Lee Chang questions in return. The commander’s unflappable expression does not change, but a thread of uneasiness steals across his features.
“He was said to have had a heart attack last night when visiting the queen,” Commander Min answers. “But I heard that Her Majesty did not summon a doctor to check that the body was dead, and it was cremated quietly without ceremony this morning.”
She has made a tactical error in getting rid of her father, Lee Chang thinks to himself. The queen does not have the loyalties or allies that her father had, and now that the man is gone, the flighty ministers and officials who had previously allied themselves with him will be vying for power amongst themselves. As a woman, and a young woman at that, she naturally commands little respect from her father’s cronies, even though she now holds control over the highest seat in the land.
Fools, all of them, Lee Chang thinks furiously. It would not do to underestimate any of the members of the Haewon Cho clan, that nest of vipers, no matter how young and inexperienced they may seem. For the Queen may not have her father’s political acumen, nor his powerful connections, but she does have his ruthlessness and scheming wit. And that is not to be looked down on.
“We must hurry back to the palace, and seize the throne from her,” Lee Chang says decisively. He turns back to the commander, whose eyes are now as round as dinnerplates at his words, his mouth gaping slightly open in shock.
“You have heard of the plague that is sweeping the south and turning its people into monsters who crave human flesh?” Lee Chang asks him. He immediately snaps his mouth shut, and nods.
“The Haewon Cho clan is responsible for this infection, and therefore, all the deaths that have resulted from it. They have even dared to turn the King into a monster,” Lee Chang says, his tone hard. “I managed to visit the King’s palace under cover of the dark a few days ago, and found my father no longer living, and now one of these unholy creatures. We have him in my private quarters, and he will serve as proof of the Haewon Cho clan’s vile misdeeds.”
With every word he speaks, the shock and anger thrum deeper through his every vein, and he can see these emotions reflected in Commander Min’s gaze as well. As Lee Chang finishes his explanation, the commander’s jaw tightens, and a renewed steeliness comes to his eyes.
“Then we must reveal the truth to the ministers, and depose the queen,” he says crisply. Lee Chang nods. “Your men will support you?” he asks.
“To the very end,” Commander Min answers, and no more words are needed.
He summons those of his men who are unoccupied with the Naesonjae prisoners, and they mount their horses, waiting for the signal to leave. Lee Chang mounts his own steed, but pauses at the sight of Mu-yeong, still crouched over his wife, her hand clutched tightly in his, and his head bowed over her chest, such that his expression cannot be seen. Her complexion is deathly pale, but her chest is rising and falling with greater vigour than before. Thankfully, however, from the sureness of Seo-bi’s hands as she dresses her patient’s wounds, and the calmness and placidity of her actions, Lee Chang is confident that she is in no more danger.
At the sound of the horses moving and the men shouting out commands with increased volume, Mu-yeong looks up, his face haggard with fear and anxiety. He sees Lee Chang already mounted, and blanches.
When he makes to stumble to his feet, Lee Chang urges his horse closer to the pallet on which Mu-yeong’s wife is lying, and places a hand on Mu-yeong’s shoulder. It is the second time that he has touched Mu-yeong, in his life, and he knows it will not be the last, for Mu-yeong is now as dear a figure to him as a good friend, an uncle, a brother.
The touch seems to soothe Mu-yeong somewhat, although he initially flinches back in surprise that Lee Chang has chosen to touch him again. When he has recovered his composure, he looks up at Lee Chang with uncomprehending eyes.
“Stay,” Lee Chang says, and his voice is unbearably gentle, even to his own ears.
“But, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says, the volume of his voice rising in confusion. “You will be in danger. It is my duty to protect you. I will come with you,” and he begins to walk off in the direction of his horse. Lee Chang tightens his grip on the guard’s soldier so that he may not move.
“No, Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says, and when Mu-yeong turns to face him again, Lee Chang grants him a wan smile. “You have done enough. It is enough to know that you and your wife will be safe. And while you have your duty to me, you have your duty to your dear wife as well, do you not?”
“But - ”
“Rest assured,” Lee Chang cuts in, “I will personally bear your son back to you, safe and sound. But your son needs his mother, and you must make sure that he has a mother to come back to.”
Mu-yeong stares at him blankly for a few more moments, before he abruptly casts his head away and stares at the ground. His shoulders begin to shake.
“Thank you,” Mu-yeong rasps, almost inaudibly, the words scraping over his tear-roughened throat. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
***
The bells of Bosingak ring triumphantly as Lee Chang and his men ride back to Hanyang, but they leave a sour taste in his mouth.
He remembers only two occasions on which they had rung so joyfully and with so rich a timbre and cadence. The first had been his birth, and the noise had irritated his infant ears, had made him cry and bawl with dissatisfaction, as he had been taken from the warm embrace of his mother, and into the callus-worn hands of the midwife.
The second time, he had been in the palace, and his master Ahn Hyeon had returned covered in blood. The war with the Japanese had been ended, but the lives of too many Joseon men had been sacrificed for it to be their victory.
And now, the third time. For the birth of the false prince, and for the culmination of a traitor’s schemes.
The guard attempts to stop him at the gate, but he merely urges his horse forward, and he, Commander Min and their men charge through the streets. People scatter before them, and behind them there are faint shouts and the blowing of horns as the alarm is sounded.
“Seize the prince!” shrieks a voice from up on the barracks. “Seize the traitor!”
The commander’s men fend off attacks from beside them, as the guards at the gate surge forward and attempt to cripple their horses – to little avail, for there are no more elite swordsmen than the soldiers of the Royal Commandery. The attackers are batted off as flies to the horses’ flanks, and it is not long before they reach the gates of Changdeokgung.
More men bar their way, and this time they cannot bulldoze their way through on horseback. Lee Chang looks at the commander, and he nods. The moment the two of them descend from their horses, Commander Min’s men immediately form a circle around them, guarding them from attack behind.
“I must speak to the queen, and the ministers,” Lee Chang says clearly. “I have evidence that the queen has been involved in a plot against the nation, and against the throne.” He pauses, and when there is no response from the guards – other than to cross their swords in front of the gate – he sighs.
“Do you not have relatives in the south?” he asks, softer this time, watching their faces. “Have you not heard of the terrible plague that is ravaging settlements, towns, cities? The plague that is turning your friends and family into monsters?”
He sees that they have faltered in their fierceness at his words, and he presses his advantage.
“The queen is the cause of the plague,” he says lowly. “She has unleashed the disease in the south so she may take command of the throne. Will you rest well knowing that such a woman will have control of the land? I do not wish to hurt you,” he adds, seeing one of the guards’ hands lower infinitesimally, “but I am willing to, if you will not let me pass.”
There is a single, loaded pause. The guards exchange wary glances and shift uneasily on their feet - then slowly, unwillingly, they lower their swords, and step aside with short bows. Lee Chang nods his thanks to the both of them, and pushes the door open.
They find the front courtyard relatively deserted, with most of the guards having been out on morning patrol in the city, or guarding the gate. Lee Chang turns to Yeong-shin, who has been a quiet but steady shadow at his side.
“You know what to do,” he says quietly, and Yeong-shin nods.
A month ago you said the crowds were dangerous, and you refused to leave my side, Lee Chang thinks. A month ago you would not have trusted me to defend myself. No sound comes from his mouth, but he thinks Yeong-shin hears the words he does not say, for there is a minute softening of the lines around his eyes as he looks at Lee Chang.
Be careful, Lee Chang says in his mind, and Yeong-shin nods again, sharp and short. He turns on his heel and hurries in the opposite direction.
They make a quick stop at the royal stables to hand their horses over to the gawking stable boys, and there is no other time to lose. It is the time when an assembly will have been called, Lee Chang knows, to introduce the new prince to the ministers, and for the ministers to have their audience with the queen. It is the perfect opportunity to reveal the truth to all of them, and see what the queen has left to say in her defence.
The doors to the audience chamber make a mighty satisfying boom as he throws them open, and strides into the chamber with Commander Min and his men at his back. He ignores the shocked gasps and murmurings of the ministers, gathered in rows by the side of the main walkway. His eyes are fixed solely on the figure seated on the throne, a squirming bundle in her arms, and a look of fury on her beautiful face.
“What is the meaning of this?” roars one of the officials, standing at the head of the rows of ministers. His voice is familiar – he is one of the men who had constantly curried favour and licked the heels of the Haewon Cho clan; a weasel of a man who had taken every opportunity to undermine whatever little authority Lee Chang had had under his father’s rule. And now he seems to have become the self-appointed leader of the remnants of Cho Hak-ju’s former allies.
“Guards! Seize this murderer!” squeals another of the ministers, also a former associate of Cho Hak-ju’s. “He is a traitor to the throne! Guards!” He looks around and wrings his hand ineffectively as it appears that everyone is ignoring his orders, too intent on the spectacle playing out in front of them.
Lee Chang comes to a stop in front of the throne, and he does not bow. Instead, he lifts his chin high, and looks down his nose at her. He knows she has always hated this look of his, and he savours the way it makes her face harden, flint-like, in its abject rage.
“That baby is not yours,” he says quietly, but his voice echoes, full and rich, throughout the chamber. “And neither is that throne.”
“You!” she spits, then visibly reigns back her anger. She clutches the baby tighter to her chest, as if it will somehow protect her from his words. “How dare you speak to your mother the queen in such a manner?”
“You are not my mother,” he answers calmly. Then he turns and faces the assembled ministers.
“I bring to you news of a conspiracy that has been planned and executed by the Haewon Cho clan, to claim control over the throne,” he says, and immediately the assembled officials break into a renewed multitude of whispers and confused murmurs. He merely waits for them to quiet, for he knows he will regain their attention soon.
When silence once again reigns over the chamber, he continues.
“Four days ago, when I attempted to visit my father in his chambers – where I heard he was resting, and recovering from smallpox – I laid before him the news I had gathered in the south. All of you have heard of the terrible disease ravaging the south, I am sure, and I had found evidence that the seed of this epidemic had been planted by someone.
“I found the man who had been spreading the disease, and he was a man you will know – Physician Lee Seung-hui, a man who aided our army in the war against the Japanese three years ago.” There is a collective intake of breath at the news, but Lee Chang forges on. “I found that he had been forced to spread the disease by someone, but he would not confess who. I brought him back to Hanyang to find the truth from him, but he disappeared from my custody two days ago.
“Two days ago,” Lee Chang repeats, emphasising the words. “Two days ago, I visited my father again, secretly this time, for somehow I had been barred from visiting my own father on his sickbed – by none other than the honourable queen herself. And I found that he had been consumed by the plague – the same plague that is turning both peasants and nobles in the south alike into inhuman creatures that lust after human flesh.”
One of the ministers swoons and falls over in a dead faint.
Very slowly, Lee Chang turns and looks straight at the queen. “Today I have returned from Naesonjae,” he says, and his voice is hard as he watches her eyes widen. “And I - and Commander Min of the Royal Commandery - have found evidence of something far more treasonous – yes, far more treasonous than a plot to systematically introduce a fatal disease into a population of Joseon’s own people!”
The queen utters a scornful laugh, and tosses her head to the side. She paints a pretty picture, dainty and beautiful in her youth and vigour, and tragic in her role as the innocent accused, although Lee Chang knows that she is anything but.
“Do you have evidence?” she asks dismissively. “Do you have proof that these are nothing more than false accusations to detract from your crimes as the slaughterer of my father and my brother? I do not understand,” and now she looks contemptuously at the officials and men at her feet, “why none of you are moving to capture this murderer and traitor to the throne!”
“Oh, but I do have proof,” Lee Chang says softly, and steps aside.
The girl from Naesonjae stumbles forwards, kept firmly in her place by an unyielding hand placed tightly on her forearm by Commander Min. She tells her story with many stops and stumbles and false starts, but it is enough. Lee Chang senses the tide of sentiment in the room begin to turn, previously resolutely against him, and now in his favour.
Somehow the queen manages to keep her composure through the story, and when the girl is finished, she merely sniffs disdainfully, and looks down at the girl with eyes that could burn ice. The poor maid quails and shrinks into herself.
“Lies,” she says icily. But she clutches the prince tighter to herself, and the slip betrays her.
“You need more proof?” Lee Chang says. He can hear Yeong-shin’s footsteps, measured and calm, as he makes his way into the chamber. Lee Chang gestures for him to come forward, without turning to look.
As Yeong-shin moves forward, the ministers gasp in horror and shy away from the centre of the walkway. When Yeong-shin reaches Lee Chang’s side, he sets down his burden, and with a theatrical flourish, whips the bag off the former king’s head.
the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.
a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)
Count: 8k
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“What do you mean,” Lee Chang says stonily, “when you say that my father is sick?”
“It is exactly as I have said, Your Highness,” Cho Hak-ju says quietly, and his voice is obsequious to the extreme. “His Majesty fell sick with smallpox two days ago, and he has been bedridden ever since. It is extremely contagious, and the Empress has asked that Your Highness refrain from visiting your father, for fear of catching the pox.”
“And yet she visits him without fear,” Lee Chang says, unable to stop the bitterness from slipping through to his voice. “If I may express my concern for my mother’s health… Surely it is too treacherous for her and my unborn brother to be exposed to such danger.”
“The Empress takes all necessary measures to keep herself safe,” Cho Hak-ju says, still in that odious tone of his. “Furthermore, she is young and healthy. Your Highness has just returned from a difficult trip, and you must take care of your body. It would not be advisable for you to expose yourself to the king as of now. Please be assured that we have employed the best of physicians to care for His Majesty, and they have assured us that he will recover soon.”
“I am his son!” Lee Chang shouts, finally unable to contain his fury. “I must see him. Is it not permissible for a son to visit his bedridden father, especially when this son is the Crown Prince of this nation?”
He whirls around and storms in the direction of the palace, but it is not long before the clear peal of an unsheathed sword rings through the air, and he stops as he feels the edge of a blade at his neck.
“Your Highness,” Beom-il says, “The Empress has issued her command. No one is to enter the king’s palace but the Chief Councillor and the Empress.”
Lee Chang turns around, very slowly. He looks at Beom-il, whose eyes are alight with some kind of unholy glee, despite Mu-yeong’s sword also levelled at his neck.
“You dare?” he says, softly. “You, a mere general of the army, dare draw your weapon on a member of the royal family?”
“Your Highness,” Beom-il murmurs again, “The Empress has given her orders. You are to obey, or I will have no choice but to defend the Empress’ command. It is for your own good, you know,” and he adds this with a small smile which shows far too many teeth.
“I am not afraid of you,” Lee Chang whispers. “I, who have been through hell and back. Draw my blood if you dare.”
There is a moment of silence, and Beom-il draws back marginally, as if in surprise at his sudden bravery. Lee Chang seizes the chance to continue striding briskly in the direction of the king’s palace.
He throws open the doors with little further resistance, with Beom-il, Cho Hak-ju, Mu-yeong and an entourage of Beom-il’s subordinates following closely behind. Lee Chang makes his way through the corridors of the palace, through the paths he knows all too well from his childhood.
When he thrusts the doors to his fathers’ chambers open, somehow it is anticlimactic to see the king seated there on his bed, reading a scroll and sipping tea. He does not look severely ill at all.
Cho Hak-ju and Mu-yeong follow quietly behind him, and shut the door – thankfully, Beom-il stays outside. Thankfully, because if Lee Chang has to look one more moment upon his smug smirking face, he does not know what he will do to him. Throttle him, perhaps, or punch him in his smiling face – both options sound terribly appealing to him at the moment, in his current state.
The king looks up in surprise at their entry, but when he sees it is Lee Chang, a weary smile crosses his face, and he puts down the scroll.
“My son,” he sighs. “You have returned. What news do you bring me from Dongnae?”
“Did my messages not reach you, father?” Lee Chang says, with some surprise. A frown creases the king’s brows.
“What messages?” he asks. “I have not heard from you since you left, almost two weeks ago. I did wonder why it was taking you so long simply to visit Dongnae and bring back news, but I assumed nothing could harm you with the palace guards by your side. … My son, you look rather pale. Whatever is the matter?”
“Your Majesty,” Lee Chang manages, the story of his entire past weeks on the tip of his tongue, but he pauses, and remembers that Cho Hak-ju is still by his side. He turns to him coldly. “Lord Cho,” he says, “Leave us. I must have my audience with my father alone.”
Cho Hak-ju bows, so low that the shadows cover his face, and walks backward out of the room. Mu-yeong shuts the door again behind him, and stands in front of the gap between the sliding panels, his face grim.
“My father,” Lee Chang presses on, “there have been grave events in the South. There is a plague ravaging the towns, and it is a man-made one. And now I find that you have not received any of my messages - and my way here was barred by members of the Haewon Cho clan! I have heard that the Empress has even barred entry to all but herself and her father. I was worried for your health, but I had to fight tooth and nail for entry here. What on earth is happening in Hanyang?!”
The king’s face tightens momentarily, then he exhales a deep, fatigued breath. “I began vomiting and experiencing body aches and pains two days ago,” he murmurs. “At first I thought it merely a result of stress, or a lack of sleep, but the Empress brought the physicians to see me immediately. They told me it was a mild case of smallpox, and that I was to stay in bed for the next week or so. Yet I do not know how I could possibly have caught this disease. Is this the plague you speak of, that now ravages the South?”
Lee Chang shakes his head furiously. “The contagion in the south is something far darker,” he says, and his voice has hardened. “It is a disease that allows for the persistence of the body after death, without persistence of the mind. Plainly-speaking, the disease turns all those it touches into mindless monsters who crave human flesh, and who cannot be turned aside by anything less than beheading and fire. Even a dozen arrows in their body will not kill them.”
The king’s eyes widen, bloodshot. “The resurrection plant,” he breathes. “No – it is not possible – I thought, three years ago - ”
“Father, you know of this disease?” Lee Chang asks, his voice suddenly high and reedy with disbelief.
“It was – our mistake – we had no choice - ”
The king begins to choke, and Lee Chang realises that there is something very wrong.
He starts to cough; loud, hacking coughs that tear at his throat and bring tears to his eyes, and he convulses on the bed in front of Lee Chang. Lee Chang surges forward, but almost immediately the doors are flung open and there are hands at his chest, his arms, pulling him away from his father – who is dying in front of his eyes.
One of the men who has entered goes straight to the king. From his robes, he is a court physician, and he checks the king’s temperature.
“He has a high fever,” the man announces, and carefully lays the king down onto his bed, one hand at his back and supporting his movement. “The pox has gotten worse. He must rest.”
No! Lee Chang rages internally. Not when they were so close to an answer! Not when his father… when his father had known…
And then Lee Chang looks at his father, frail and pallid and still coughing feebly into the air – for he had not the strength to lift his arm and cover his mouth – and Lee Chang realises that there is a very real possibility that his father will die.
“Father,” he whispers, at first, and then the word comes again as a roar. “FATHER!” he yells, but it is no use; he is dragged out of the room by the guards. The thud of the slamming doors jars his ears, and echoes with finality through the hallway.
Chest heaving with breaths he feels he is ill-equipped to take, he turns to Beom-il, who is still standing there in the middle of the hallway, hooded eyes watching him.
There is a very faint trace of a smile around his handsome lips. Lee Chang has never before felt so strongly the urge to commit violent murder.
“How dare you,” he rages. “How dare you lay your hands on me! How dare you separate me from my father! I am the Crown Prince of this nation!”
Beom-il does not react to the vitriol flung in his face, but stands there patiently as Lee Chang lambasts him with everything he can think of. It is only Mu-yeong’s hand gripped tight around his wrist that brings him back to his senses.
“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong shouts, and Lee Chang spins around to look at him. The face that fills his vision is an honest one, a face dear and familiar to him, and its eyes are filled with fear and worry. Lee Chang’s breaths echo like thunder in the hallway, and he becomes sharply aware of the silence that has descended upon the few people in the vicinity.
“Do not give him a reason to put you away!” Mu-yeong hisses, under his breath so the others do not hear. “Remember, they are looking for any excuse to take you out of their way. Do not give them that reason.”
Mu-yeong’s words are like a calming breeze, and slowly, Lee Chang feels his breaths return to normal, and he places a hand on his chest to steady himself. He glares at Beom-il.
“We are not finished,” he says coldly, drawing himself up to his full height and infusing all the imperiousness he can possibly muster into his voice. “I will return to see my father again, and you will not be able to stop me.”
“I welcome Your Highness to try again,” Beom-il murmurs, his voice soft and poisonous. “Indeed, your… care for your father is admirable, but then again, it is this care which has worsened your father’s condition and unnecessarily burdened his already fragile mind.”
“Your Highness, ignore him,” Mu-yeong says in an undertone. “There is nothing more we can do here.”
Lee Chang nods shortly, and storms out of the king’s palace, with Mu-yeong at his heels. He turns his head for a final glance at the compound, and Beom-il is standing, still, on the steps to the palace, flanked by his entourage of guards; his face a wooden mask, and his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Only when they are out of reach is Lee Chang able to fully relax. He slows his stride, and cannot stop himself from thrusting his fist into the nearby wall. It leaves a sizeable dent, and his knuckles broken and bleeding, but it manages to dissipate some of his fury.
“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong says in alarm, moving to stop him, but Lee Chang holds up his hand, a hand that trembles before he is able to get it to still.
“I am fine,” he manages, after a beat, forcing himself to breathe slower. It helps unclench the vice around his chest. “Thank you for your worry, Mu-yeong, and your guidance earlier. I am alright now.” He turns to Mu-yeong, and manages a weak smile.
Mu-yeong hesitates, then retracts his arm. “It was nothing,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I only wish to apologise for touching you earlier. Please do not annihilate my entire family for my sins.”
That gets an unwilling laugh out of Lee Chang, and he shakes his head. “I would never,” he says. “It was always a joke! Just a joke.”
“Jokes are meant to be funny,” Mu-yeong grumbles. His petulant words force another quick, startled laugh out of Lee Chang, and he cannot stop a fond sigh from escaping his mouth.
“Mu-yeong,” he says musingly, “Indeed, what would I do without you?”
“You’d be dead a few times over, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong answers primly, and with that, they begin to make their slow way back to the Crown Prince’s quarters.
Yeong-shin and Seo-bi have been given rooms there, and so they meet them at the door. Seo-bi is wringing her hands, although her face has an expression of forced calm. Yeong-shin is seated on the steps, picking at his nails with a knife, to the horrified glances of the palace maids.
Lee Chang has to restrain another laugh. It was not long ago that such actions would have repulsed him with their crudity, but now, he finds that such prudish notions matter little to him anymore. Instead, he finds it endearing.
Yeong-shin tilts his head up slightly to look at them as they pass the gates to Lee Chang’s palace compounds, and his eyes are dark with loss of sleep. Lee Chang feels his laugh die an early death in the back of his throat.
“Did you report the news to the king?” Seo-bi asks, her throat working as she swallows.
Lee Chang sighs, feeling the tedium of the morning come upon him again. “I conveyed some of the matter to him,” he replies, “but a violent fever came upon him in the midst of our discussion, and I was unable to speak to him further.” He glances around him, and it is only when he is certain that they are alone, that he continues.
“Seo-bi,” he murmurs, moving closer to her so that his voice does not carry, “my father did not appear to have signs of the pox when I saw him then. I have seen bodies of patients dead from smallpox, and my father lacked the boils and swellings that were typical of such patients. His only symptoms were vomiting and bodily aches and pains.”
The edges of her mouth turn downwards as she thinks. “When did he fall ill?”
“Two days ago.”
She sighs. “It is not unusual,” she answers. “During the initial onset of the disease, a high fever and vomiting are common symptoms, and the swellings will usually develop two to four days after.”
“So he might actually have contracted smallpox,” Lee Chang says, somehow feeling relieved.
Contrary to his expectations, Seo-bi shakes her head. “These are also shared symptoms for various poisons,” she continues. “Smallpox is common in these parts, and therefore physicians often diagnose smallpox pre-emptively, for the patients are then sent into forced isolation and bedrest, and therefore easily monitored from then on to see if it truly is the pox. However, it will be difficult to tell if this is indeed the case until the swellings and other characteristic signs of the disease emerge.”
“Poison?” Lee Chang says, in disbelief. “I had thought the timing all too convenient, but for them to use poison… How dare they!”
“We must find a way to check on him in two days time, when the symptoms become clear,” Mu-yeong says. “Your Highness may continue his report to the king then.”
Lee Chang grimaces. “At the moment, we have Physician Lee with us, and the plague in the South is more or less contained. While waiting for the chance to confirm my father’s symptoms, we must speak to the physicians and servants taking care of him. Perhaps they will know something. You have kept Physician Lee somewhere safe?” He directs this question to Mu-yeong, and the guard nods soberly.
“I have placed him secretly under the care of one of my friends, who is also a trained palace guard,” Mu-yeong replies. “The Haewon Cho clan – or whoever is behind this terrible plot, although I cannot begin to fathom who else would be capable of such evil – will be unable to touch him.”
“Good,” Lee Chang says approvingly. “Then we must initiate our investigations, although they must be kept absolutely secret. We will begin tomorrow – it is too late now. And perhaps,” he says quietly, almost shyly – although he would never have thought of using this word on himself – “we can break fast tomorrow, together.”
The others nod. “I will visit my dear wife now,” Mu-yeong says, his voice brightening, and his face visibly lifting at the prospect. “It has been long since I have seen her, and she is near term – I hope that I will be gifted with a precious son very soon.”
“Take the desserts from my table, and give her my regards,” Lee Chang answers. Mu-yeong’s smile is somehow infectious, and it is a slight balm of comfort in these trying times. It reminds him that there are things they are fighting for, each of them.
“Tomorrow, then,” Yeong-shin says, his voice quiet. “We will see you tomorrow.”
***
The morning brings jeongol, kimchi and kalguksu – dishes Lee Chang has missed the past few days they were on the road. The rich broth and taste of the meat is a welcome luxury he’d only appreciated when it had been lacking. Seo-bi and Yeong-shin dig into the food with relish and a distinct lack of manners, but as it is only the four of them in the room – and the occasional servant bringing new dishes – Lee Chang makes no object. It is probably the first time they have tasted food so savoury in a while, and it is only right that they enjoy it to the fullest.
They are silent at first, as they eat, but then Mu-yeong gets started on the topic of his wife, and it has always been difficult to stem the flow of words that follows such a beloved subject of his.
“The midwives say that she is close to labour,” Mu-yeong shares effusively. “Ah, I only regret that I will not be able to be there while she gives birth… but I do not think I will be able to stand the sight of her in so much pain. She is left in good hands. The many cousins she has in Naesonjae are good midwives, and they have promised to notify me the moment she goes into labour, so that I may head there with haste to greet my newborn child!”
“Do you think it will be a son or a daughter?” Lee Chang asks.
“It does not matter to me,” Mu-yeong answers, his smile almost splitting his face, “whether the child be male or female. I only pray that it will be a beautiful one – although with my dear wife’s looks, that is a given!”
“Ah, but Mu-yeong, you must remember, the child is your own as well,” teases Lee Chang, feeling himself settle and relax into the familiar rhythm of their conversation. “I would be more concerned about its looks if I were you.”
“Your Highness - !” The utterance is full of shock and betrayal, and it does not fail to elicit an amused huff from Lee Chang at the return of Mu-yeong’s theatrics. The conversation moves on smoothly from there, with even Seo-bi contributing a word here or there when it comes to her areas of expertise.
Yeong-shin, however, stays markedly silent.
“Did you sleep well?” Lee Chang finally ventures, attempting to draw him out of his shell. “Was the room to your liking?”
Yeong-shin utters a non-committal sound of assent, digging with renewed fervour into his rice, his eyes trained pointedly down.
“Oi,” Mu-yeong snaps, jabbing at him with his chopstick. “When His Highness asks you a question, you’d better answer properly. You listening?”
“It was good,” Yeong-shin says, the word guttural in his throat, and he says nothing else. After a beat of silence, during which all three of them watch him with varying degrees of annoyance and confusion, he chances a glance up at them, and sighs, an extremely put-upon sigh.
“I am tired,” he mutters. “Please excuse my silence.”
“You - ” Mu-yeong starts again, furiously, but Lee Chang places his hand on the table next to Mu-yeong, and he shuts up abruptly.
“It is understandable that you are tired,” Lee Chang says quietly. “You should get more rest then. You’ll need it if you wish to help with our investigations.”
“Rest assured I will be more than up to the task,” Yeong-shin answers, his voice brittle. “A few nights’ poor sleep will not hinder me from performing up to your expectations. You needn’t worry.”
“There’s no need to be so ornery, even if you’re tired,” Seo-bi speaks up sharply, and the disapproving glare in her eyes is enough to shut all three of them up. They continue to eat in silence, and this time, the air between them is fragile and thin.
When they are finished with his meal, Lee Chang lays down his chopsticks and waits for the servants to clear the plates. When they are finally alone, Mu-yeong checks outside the door and shuts it behind him after ensuring that there is no one in the vicinity.
“What would you have us do today?” Yeong-shin asks, in a more neutral tone. He seems to have recovered somewhat from his earlier, dourer mood.
“I will speak to some of the ministers and scholars who I know are loyal to me. I will need assistance,” Lee Chang says gravely, “if we are to take on the Haewon Cho clan. Seo-bi, you should speak to the palace physicians and see if you can find anything amiss. Yeong-shin and Mu-yeong,” he pauses for a moment, considering that it might not be the most ideal combination; but then again, he has little choice. “Speak to the palace guards and servants, especially the ones serving the king.”
The other three nod and raise no objection, apart from an unwilling glance Mu-yeong casts towards Yeong-shin.
“Stay safe, and keep this absolutely secret,” Lee Chang says. “We will see each other tonight.”
***
When they meet again later that day, they have little new information, and few new alliances. The same goes for the next day. While Lee Chang has many sympathisers among the ministers, they are unwilling to pit themselves against the power of the Haewon Cho clan. The only bright light remains that the scholars he had previously been plotting with are amenable to aiding him. With their bookish ways and tendency towards politicking, he does not think they would be useful if any open conflict were to break out, but they are useful political allies nonetheless. The situation is too precarious to allow a revolt of the sort he had been planning prior to his departure, what with his father’s sickness and the ever-present threat of Cho Hak-ju spreading the plague further, but any ally they can gather on their side is beneficial.
As for investigations around the palace, Seo-bi has made little inroads with the palace physicians. There are only two or three of them senior enough to treat the king, and they are constantly busy with his treatment. The other physicians know nothing – or, if they do, they will say nothing. The guards and servants Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin had spoken to are similarly tight-lipped, and they had not wished to risk raising excessive suspicion by prying too deep.
Yeong-shin’s awful mood has continued. He has not said anything rude or untoward, but Mu-yeong had never taken well to ornery tempers, and it is only the mediation of Seo-bi and Lee Chang that has prevented their shared meals breaking into a fight. Tensions run high at their lack of headway, and Lee Chang is glad when the sun rises on the morning of their fourth day in the capital, for today, he is sure they will finally uncover the truth of his father’s disease.
“I must see my father today,” he says determinedly, as the four of them break fast together again for the third time. “It is the fifth day of his disease.”
“However,” Yeong-shin says quietly, “What proof can you present to him?” He looks up from where he has been poking half-heartedly at his noodles, and his eyes meet Lee Chang’s. There is something in those eyes that makes Lee Chang shiver. He pauses, and considers his words carefully.
“I truly believe that there is no other plausible suspect,” he says at last. “Only Cho Hak-ju would have the knowledge, the power and the courage to carry out such a plan. Why else would his messenger to Dongnae disappear? Who else would have the motive to keep me away from Hanyang by sending me to Dongnae – most likely with the knowledge that a plague would be unleashed in the south, with little chance of survival for myself and my guard? It was only pure luck that we avoided dying during that first attack, before we found Jiyulheon.” Mu-yeong’s face tightens, and his shoulders shake at the memory of the guards – his friends – who had died for Lee Chang.
“Physician Lee said something, when he was drunk,” Seo-bi pipes up quietly, catching everyone’s attention. She recounts the story of her master’s uncharacteristic drunkenness a few days before the plague had hit Jiyulheon. “‘It was my mistake three years ago’ – that was what he said. I thought nothing of it at the time, but now it strikes me as odd. Why three years ago? What was his mistake?”
Something comes to Lee Chang’s mind then, something he too had missed. “My father mentioned something of the sort as well,” he exclaims sharply. “When first I told him of the plague, and before he was overcome by his fever, he spoke of the resurrection plant, and of ‘three years ago’ as well. Three years ago…” His fingers tighten around his chopsticks. “The end of the war. That is what they mean. Something happened three years ago at the end of the war, something that is related to the plague, and I must find out what.”
“Do you think Lord Ahn Hyeon might know?” Mu-yeong suggests. “He was in charge of the armies, and he won the war, after all. He must have been privy to everything that happened.”
Lee Chang nods. “He probably knows,” he says grimly. “It makes sense – his men knew immediately what to do with the monsters when they attacked Sangju. I thought little of it at the time, but now it seems out of place to me. But we do not have the time to write to him and wait for his reply. We must find out today, by speaking to my father.”
“Then we must leave right away,” Yeong-shin says, standing from the table in a swift, explosive motion. “There is no time to waste.”
They hurry to the king’s palace. Seo-bi stays behind, but Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin follow closely behind him.
“Your Highness,” Beom-il says coolly, barring the way to the gates of the king’s palace, his sword unsheathed and pointing directly at Lee Chang’s throat. “I thought you learned your lesson two days ago, but apparently not. Here you are again to torment your father who – may I remind you – is fighting for his life on the sickbed, and hardly in any state to tend to your childish tantrums.
“And who, dare I ask,” he murmurs, casting a cold glance over Lee Chang’s shoulder, “are your companions? Mu-yeong I know, your faithful dog, but this man… this man is new. Do you make it a habit of yours to surround yourself with paltry rabble from the south, now? My, how far the Crown Prince has fallen, such that he takes even a mere peasant into his entourage. Are there insufficient guards in the palace to keep you company? Or insufficient whores?”
“How dare you speak to me and my companions in such a manner,” Lee Chang says, his voice infused with quiet fury. “You are merely a hunting dog of the Haewon Cho clan. You serve little purpose other than the lick the feet of your master and pray for scraps to fall from the heavens. What gives you the right to speak to the Crown Prince of this nation with so insolent a tone?”
He unsheathes his sword, and the glint of sunlight off its blade out of the corner of his eye comforts him, although it will do him little good if Beom-il actually decides to strike.
Beom-il’s face tightens. The words have found their mark.
But then something strange happens. Instead of stepping aside to allow Lee Chang entry, a smile spreads over his face, and his teeth flash.
“Has Your Highness not heard the joyous news?” he says, a hint of manic glee in his voice.
“What news?” Lee Chang snaps, already at the end of his patience. The blade at his neck does not tremble or falter, so steady and arrogant is the hand of its owner.
Beom-il pauses, as if to savour the words, then:
“Her Majesty has gone into labour,” he purrs. “Soon she will grace us all with a son, a Crown Prince of true and pure royal blood. And soon,” he steps closer to Lee Chang, so close that Lee Chang can feel his breath on his cheeks, “soon will come the hour that a mere general of the army may draw his blade against your neck, and cause you to bleed.”
With that, he lifts his blade and slices swiftly at Lee Chang. There is a cut-off cry of anger behind him, a beat, and then the blade stays its movement in Lee Chang’s shoulder.
First he feels nothing. Then, as the blood trickles down his arm and pools in a puddle on the ground, a sharp streak of lightning rips through his nerves, followed by a dull thunderous ache that spreads through every fibre in his body. He feels his body begin to shudder.
But this pain is nothing compared to the agony, the fatigue, the hopelessness, the feeling of being so close to dying that he could practically taste his last breath on his lips – emotions which had been an everyday part of his life for the past few weeks.
This? This is nothing.
Calmly, so Beom-il cannot see his composure broken, he lifts his other arm and wraps his fingers around Beom-il’s wrist. It is probably the surprise, he thinks dully, that renders Beom-il’s sword arm temporarily robbed of strength, allowing him to lift the arm and drag the blade out of his shoulder. It hurts like a fucking bitch, but his pride keeps the hurt out of his face, and his hands unwavering.
There is a clang as Beom-il’s sword falls to the ground, and a rush of feet that only dimly permeates Lee Chang’s hearing. Instead, keeping his eyes locked on Beom-il’s, he rips a piece of silk off the bottom of his coat, and binds it tightly round his arm. The blood dyes it red in an instant, but the tightness of the cloth blunts the pain.
“I will see my father,” he says, through clenched teeth, “and it will be in spite of you. A mere general of the army may now lift his blade against my neck, it is true, but it does not mean that I will not return the blow. Nor will I bleed. You will not find me so easy to kill.”
Beom-il’s eyes are white-hot with fury, and the handsomeness of his face is curiously diminished by the anger distorting his face.
Lee Chang is fully intent on storming the palace now - now that he has the upper hand - but hands on both his arms stop him.
“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong cries out, the anguish in his voice plain. He is the one restraining Lee Chang on the left. “There are too many guards. We cannot possibly fight our way through them.”
Only then does Lee Chang look up and realise that their spat has amassed a larger audience. Beom-il’s compatriots, skilled soldiers and guards in their own right, have assembled round their group. Their faces are as stone, and their blades are sharp.
“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says again, this time in a quick, hushed whisper, “Let us make a tactical retreat. You are injured, and we are outnumbered. This will not end well.”
Lee Chang maintains his stare with Beom-il for a moment more, and the man must see something different in his eyes, for he takes an involuntary step back, his own eyes shuttering with bitter hate. Lee Chang savours the moment.
Then he turns and strides off without a backwards glance. Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin follow quickly.
But the moment they are out of sight and hearing of Beom-il and his pack of stooges, Mu-yeong does an unexpected thing. He spins around, seizes Yeong-shin’s collar, and throws him up against the nearest wall. There is an audible crack as Yeong-shin’s head slams against the wood; he bites off a gasp of pain.
“YOU!” Mu-yeong roars, shaking Yeong-shin by his collar.
“What are you doing, Mu-yeong!” Lee Chang shouts. “Have you gone mad?” Dizzy from the blood loss and infuriated by having to back down from Beom-il, his temper is frayed enough already as it is without Mu-yeong adding fuel to the fire. He does not grab Mu-yeong like he wants to, but storms to his side instead, and levels a glare at him.
“Why did you hesitate?!” Mu-yeong yells, continuing to shake Yeong-shin. The man’s teeth rattle as his head lolls back and forth. Surprisingly, he makes no move to retaliate, and it is this strangeness of his actions which gives Lee Chang pause.
“I saw you lift your hand to defend His Highness – you were closer, you could have defended him – and yet you hesitated,” continues Mu-yeong, in a tone that is quieter, yet no less fearsome. “Your hesitation could have cost him his life, if Beom-il’s cowardice had not raised its head at the last moment. How can we trust you when you have committed such a great breach of our faith?! Your Highness!” and Mu-yeong turns his imploring eyes back to Lee Chang.
“Do you not see?” he pleads. “We have trusted this man too much and too long, in my opinion, and finally he has now shown his true colours - as nothing more than a dog which bites the hand that feeds it. We cannot put our faith in this man any longer. He must be an agent of the Haewon Cho clan, set upon us to kill you.”
Lee Chang turns to Yeong-shin.
“Is this true?” he says quietly, and his shoulder burns like fire.
Yeong-shin meets his eyes. His mouth is a thin line, and underneath his hooded eyes, his gaze is as fierce as ever.
“If I had wanted to kill you,” he rasps, “you would be dead by now.”
Lee Chang holds his gaze, and he reads no lie in those clear eyes.
“Your Highness, he has not answered the question,” Mu-yeong says furiously. “Remember, he is a mercenary for hire. They do not care for allegiances, only for who has the largest purse. I saw it clear as day – he raised his hand to stop Beom-il’s blade, but at the last moment something held him back.”
“Let him down, Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says calmly, and Mu-yeong’s eyes fill with betrayal.
“Do you not trust me, Your Highness?” he whispers. “After all my years of service?”
Lee Chang lays a hand on his shoulder. Mu-yeong’s body jerks at the sudden touch, and he looks down at Lee Chang’s hand with an expression bordering on complete bewilderment.
“It is not that I do not trust you,” Lee Chang says quietly, “but this man – Yeong-shin – I cannot count the number of times he has saved my life. In Jiyulheon, in Dongnae, in Sangju, in Jecheon – each time, he has been willing to lay down his life for me. As have you,” he adds, as Mu-yeong opens his mouth to interrupt. “How could I doubt you, my dearest and most faithful of my servants? But Mu-yeong, we need all the allies we can find, and Yeong-shin has proven himself true so far.”
“But - ”
“Have some faith in my judgement,” Lee Chang continues swiftly on, with a tired laugh. “I am no longer a child. I can make judgements on my own, and this is my verdict. Let Yeong-shin down, Mu-yeong.”
Slowly, unwillingly, Mu-yeong’s hand lowers, and Yeong-shin’s feet touch the ground. As Mu-yeong’s hand loosens from Yeong-shin’s collar, he glares daggers at the other man.
“Hurt a hair on His Highness’ body,” he hisses, “and even the crows will find nothing of your body.”
Yeong-shin dips his head in acknowledgement, his fists clenched at his side. Then his gaze turns to Lee Chang.
“I apologise,” he says stiffly, but Lee Chang can read the true meaning of his words in the tightness around his mouth, and the weary set of his shoulders. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry I hesitated. I’m sorry you were hurt because of me.
He wonders when it became so easy for him to read Yeong-shin.
“Your shoulder - ” Yeong-shin makes an abortive gesture towards the wound in question, and Lee Chang becomes dimly aware of the throbbing pain and the gradually-spreading stain across the silk wrapping his injury.
“Yes,” he says vaguely. “My shoulder. It does not hurt as much anymore.”
But it hurts, hurts even worse than before, when Seo-bi is pressing a cold compress against the raw edges of his wound, and he is muffling his screams with a dirty cloth stuffed in his mouth. Has there ever been such ignominy, he thinks with regret, in his short short life? Even the alcohol he had consumed beforehand – pressed into his hands by a very insistent Seo-bi – fails to dull the pain.
“Keep still,” Seo-bi says calmly, holding him down with just one arm and her stern words. Lee Chang stops squirming, even though the fire in his shoulder is now gradually spreading up his neck and down his sides.
When she is done with the stitches, she lets him up so she can fetch the bandages. Lee Chang stares at the wound, now an ugly gash across the meat of his shoulder. The stitches are neat and efficient, but they do little to hide the scar.
Lee Chang thinks perhaps he should be more concerned. He has always been good-looking, after all, with unblemished skin and a good body, and even the bouts of sparring he had had with Lord Ahn Hyeon or other trainers in his youth had left no permanent scars. He had prided himself on his handsomeness, taking it as his due as the prince of the nation.
And now he has allowed Beom-il to mark him.
He waits for the shame at his ugliness to sink in, but strangely, he feels nothing.
It will remind me of what I have to do, he finds himself thinking. Of what it will cost me to protect myself, and my companions, and this nation. It is a mark, not of shame, not of courage, but of duty.
Seo-bi returns, and the gaping wound disappears gradually under the pure white fabric of the bandage. Lee Chang watches the movement of Seo-bi’s hands, small and graceful, yet decisive and firm in their actions. She removes her hand only when the gash has been tightly bandaged up, and it can no longer be seen.
Yeong-shin and Mu-yeong enter the room then, as if in response to some unspoken signal. Mu-yeong’s face is a grim mask.
“We must sneak in tonight,” he says. “Physician Lee has disappeared from the home of the man I assigned to guard him. The guard says he never let Physician Lee out of his sight, but he was taken from the room in which he was confined early this morning.”
Lee Chang does not blame him, but he feels the anxiety raise goosebumps on his skin. It baffles and angers him how far-reaching the Haewon Cho clan’s network of spies extends, so much so that they are always one step ahead of his plans.
“Then you are right. We must enter the palace tonight,” Lee Chang answers sombrely. “We have lost a crucial witness. I cannot deny that it is a setback, but there is still time to upend the Haewon Cho clan’s plans, if we can get the approval of the king to take the villains into custody.”
“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong protests. “Surely you are not planning to sneak into the palace with us? You are still injured!”
“He is my father,” Lee Chang says decisively. He suddenly realises that this is the first time he has fully meant the word. In his mind, the king of Joseon had always been just that – a king. A distant, vaguely-commanding figure who had been larger than life, and yet barely present in his childhood. Lee Chang cannot say that he does not resent the man for it, but now that it is clear that his father’s days alive might well be numbered, something burns in his chest.
“He is my father,” Lee Chang repeats, softer this time, but no less certain. “This matter is a grave one, and he must hear of it from my mouth – especially when it concerns treason on the part of such a respected clan as the Haewon Cho clan.”
Mu-yeong looks as if he wants to argue further, but after a moment’s pause, he subsides reluctantly. All of them know the truth in Lee Chang’s words – with news such as that they bear, only the Crown Prince can deliver it to the king, for it would not be believable from any other person’s lips.
“Then we will come with you, and protect you,” Mu-yeong says finally. “The guards change their shift at yushi, and it will be easy to sneak in then, just when the sun is beginning to set. I know the guards on rotation tonight, and they are a relatively more lax bunch than the rest, even when charged with protection of the king’s palace.”
“That is hardly good,” Lee Chang says reprovingly, but he feels his mouth twitch into an unwilling smile. “That is a good plan. We must rest and recover our strength for tonight’s foray, then.”
“Especially you,” Seo-bi speaks up suddenly, arresting Lee Chang with her glare. Lee Chang winces under her stern eye. He’d been planning to do some extra reading to consolidate his thoughts… and send some letters to potential allies… but that can wait, he thinks, as Seo-bi’s gaze pins him to the ground.
Later that night, they follow Mu-yeong’s lead, and find their way into the king’s palace. The guards are incautious, and spend minutes exchanging bawdy words and banter before the changing of the guard is complete, allowing the three of them to make their way unseen into the palace. The doors shut silently behind them, and Lee Chang lets out a soundless exhale of relief. He makes eye contact with Mu-yeong, who nods with approval.
There is a faint whoosh of air next to him as Yeong-shin unsheathes his blade. He had opted not to bring his musket, for it would not be useful in these close quarters, and is far from subtle in its action.
Lee Chang takes quiet comfort in knowing they are both by his side.
The floorboards do not creak as they pad their way stealthily through the corridors, for they are well-kept and clean. Lee Chang knows the way through the palace like the back of his hand, even from the side entrance from which they had entered, and soon, it is no time at all before they reach the king’s rooms.
Surprisingly, there is no one guarding the way, and Lee Chang feels his suspicions rise. A shared glance with Mu-yeong confirms for him that he is not alone in his feeling that it has been far too easy a process of gaining entry. He feels his fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword, and the rough edges cut into his palm.
Lee Chang places his hand on the handle of the door. He hesitates, just a moment, before he draws the door back and takes his first steps through.
The scene that greets his eyes tears a horrified gasp from his throat. There is a figure crouched down, its clothes matted with blood and his fingers buried in the intestines of a woman lying on the ground, with gore splattering the floor around him. The contents of her guts spill obscenely from her open stomach; her mouth is open in a silent scream of agony. Blood trails from her lips.
Her tongue has been cut out, and her body is still convulsing. She is still alive.
As Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin follow Lee Chang through the door, Mu-yeong exhales sharply in shock and disgust. There is a metallic ring as he brandishes his sword and steps forward, as if to bar Lee Chang from further entry, but Lee Chang lays a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back. He unsheathes his own blade, and his hand trembles – not from fear, but from a deep, raw anger, for the monster turns its head at that moment to stare right into his eyes, and its face is the face of his father.
“Your Majesty,” Lee Chang rasps. “Father. Oh god – father - ”
He had been alive but two days ago. Two days ago, he had been seated on the bed, his eyes bright and alert despite his fragile, bedridden state. Two days ago, he had spoken to Lee Chang in his rich, cold voice, and two days ago, Lee Chang had called him father.
Now, he is no longer alive.
“Your father he is,” says a smooth, sinuous voice, as Cho Beom-il steps out from the shadows, his blade pointed towards Lee Chang’s neck. “But the king, he is not. At least, not for much longer.” A vile smirk splits his face from ear to ear, and he steps closer.
Lee Chang’s shoulder aches. He forcibly suppresses the pain.
There is suddenly a discordant shriek as the monster-that-was-once-king throws itself at the new victims which have entered its territory, and chains wrapped around his ankles stop him before he gets very far. He falls to the ground with a painful thump, and his arm jerks to the side with a crack. Bones have broken, Lee Chang thinks dimly, and yet his father – this monster – does not react. It prostrates itself on the ground, clawing desperately at thin air, its arm dangling loosely and swinging from side to side, and Beom-il spits on its hair.
“This is the rightful position of your clan, Your Highness,” Beom-il says, returning his attention to them. “At the feet of the Haewon Cho clan, grovelling for mercy. You have always been arrogant, Your Highness, and you’ve always thought yourself above me. That all changes tonight. Go,” and he gestures towards the corpse with his other hand.
Lee Chang looks at him in disbelief and confusion. Beom-il sighs, an extremely put-upon sigh, and gestures again towards the monster, carelessly.
“’Tis a monster, is it not?” he says. “You know how to kill it.”
Lee Chang’s mind races. There is something wrong here, but he does not know what. Why would Beom-il be allowing him to slaughter the king? What purpose does he have for turning the king into a monster? Why is Beom-il alone?
“Go!” shouts Beom-il, more forcefully this time. The tip of his blade grazes Lee Chang’s neck. But he does not flinch, even as he feels the warm trickle of blood begin to drip down his skin. His jaw hurts, with how tightly it is clenched.
“Fine,” Beom-il says, with a shrug. “It does not matter, anyway. All that has to happen tonight is the discovery of your body and the king’s, in the same room, with your sword buried in his chest. It does not matter who actually beheads the monster. I suppose I will have to do all the dirty work, as usual.” And with that, he lifts the sword, and brings it down.
There is no doubt about it. This time, the blade is aimed at Lee Chang’s neck. The movement is so swift, and so practised, that while Lee Chang lift his own sword to defend himself, he knows he will be too late.
Survive, he hears his father’s voice ring in his ears. Even if it all seems hopeless, remember that you were born as the heir to the throne, and that it is your birth-right.
So he does not falter, does not close his eyes in acceptance of his death, for to do so would be giving in – would be surrendering to the dominance of the Haewon Cho clan. Even in death, he refuses to give them that satisfaction. And so he watches while Beom-il’s blade descends, in slow motion, even as his own arms lift futilely to defend the blow.
But the death he is waiting for, never comes.
He staggers backwards as a body collides with his, and it is Yeong-shin who places himself between Lee Chang and Beom-il – Yeong-shin who catches the blow on his blade. There is an awful screech as the blades collide at an angle, and Beom-il’s sword slides off. Lee Chang feels a hand close around his forearm and thrust him bodily away from the line of attack, and Mu-yeong places himself grimly by Yeong-shin’s side.
Dazedly, Lee Chang wonders how Yeong-shin had managed to avert the blow. Even Mu-yeong had moved a second too late to defend him – even Lee Chang himself, who had been the closest, had not been in time. Yeong-shin would have had to foresee the blow coming, to have defended against it.
He is a warrior indeed, Lee Chang thinks to himself, dimly. Worthy of the title of chakho.
And now it is Beom-il who is pinioned by Yeong-shin’s blade at his neck. He is caught off guard for a just a moment, his handsome dark eyes widening in surprise at the turn of events. Then, surprisingly, he laughs.
“Why do you laugh?” Mu-yeong demands, roughly. “As if there is anything to laugh about at this moment in time!”
“There are many secrets in this palace, Your Highness,” Beom-il says, completely ignoring Mu-yeong. “Surely that was one of the lessons Lord Ahn Hyeon taught you. And if there are secrets, that means there are people who guard those secrets jealously.”
Lee Chang feels an itch begin under his skin. He knows he must not listen to Beom-il’s poison, but still, something keeps him silent, and keeps him listening. He feels a sense of foreboding begin to trickle into his mind.
“Be quiet!” Mu-yeong roars. But Beom-il does not obey.
“I shall tell you one of those secrets for free,” Beom-il whispers, his smile turning sly and smug. “This secret concerns one of your friends. Would you like to guess – which one?”
“Either of these men,” Lee Chang says, and his voice is rough, “I would trust with my life.”
“You might change your answer,” Beom-il says viciously, “when you hear what I have to say.”
“Do not listen to his venom, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong hisses. “If you say the word, we will cut off his head like the foul beast that he is. Just say the word.” Yeong-shin emphasises his words by pressing the blade deeper into Beom-il’s neck, and it makes the man shudder involuntarily.
“One of your friends,” Beom-il repeats. “One of your warriors in arms. Who will it be, Your Highness? Who can you trust?”
the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.
a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin
Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)
Count: 3k
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In the morning, Lee Chang leaves Sangju with instructions to the soldiers to hunt for the monsters in the day, and destroy their bodies in the ways that would leave them permanently dead. The commander of the battalion also reassures him that they will further reinforce the walls and put into place new measures against the monsters, so that their defenses will hold.
Near the last few hours of night-time, nearing dusk, some more tenacious monsters had started banging on Sangju’s gates, but there had been so few of them that the guards on the walls had been able to hold them off. The men had reported a larger crowd of monsters that had been following, however, and had disappeared as the sun crossed the horizon. Lee Chang hopes there will be enough soldiers to thin them out sufficiently so they will not present a problem come the next night.
He leaves Sangju clad in thicker clothes, for winter is nigh upon them, and every breath comes out in a misty puff of air. And he leaves Sangju in Lord Ahn Hyeon’s care, as he had promised Yeong-shin.
“It is not that I am forcing you out of mourning; it is that the people need you,” he tells his master, seriously. “You must take care of Sangju in my absence.”
Lord Ahn Hyeon had gazed upon him with solemn, thoughtful eyes, then bowed and accepted with little protest. “I will see to it that the signal fires are lit, and that the men are deployed to find the monsters,” he murmurs. “Where will your next destination be, Your Highness?”
“I must trace the origin of the disease,” Lee Chang replies. “Someone is spreading this plague, very deliberately, so I must find its agent, and prove that he is an agent of Cho Hak-ju. I will journey to Jecheon, and if I do not find answers there, then on to Wonju, and so forth, to the other cities. I must stop the plague before it reaches Hanyang, and consumes the royal family.”
“You are certain you do not wish any of my guards as accompaniment?”
“I have Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin with me,” Lee Chang answers steadily. “And I wish to travel incognito – it will be difficult with an entourage.”
“Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin,” Lord Ahn Hyeon repeats softly, and his eyes dart towards Lee Chang’s left. Lee Chang feels Yeong-shin shift uneasily next to him, but otherwise, he makes no acknowledgement of Lord Ahn Hyeon’s gaze upon him.
“Yes, you will be safe with them by your side,” he acquiesces, and returns his piercing scrutiny to Lee Chang.
His eyes linger on Lee Chang for a moment more, then he nods, and sighs.
“If I may, Your Highness – I was wrong about you. You are not still the boy I left behind in Hanyang three years ago,” he says, so softly that only Lee Chang hears him.
“That boy would not have survived the past few days,” Lee Chang returns, with a dry smile.
“Mm, that is true. You make an old man long for his days back in Hanyang, Your Highness,” says Lord Ahn Hyeon, returning his smile; and it is on this bittersweet note that they make their parting once more.
The road to Jecheon is hard-going for their steeds, but it is quiet and with little distraction. They travel a great distance in the one day, and Lee Chang estimates they will likely reach Jecheon the next morning. They break for the night in a relatively-sheltered area of the plains, from which it will be easy to see approaching monsters, and then they divvy up the night watch as usual.
Seo-bi wanders off to gather more herbs to treat the various scrapes and wounds they have acquired here and there, and Yeong-shin volunteers to accompany her, both as a guard and to hunt meat for their supper.
The moment they are alone, Mu-yeong sidles up to Lee Chang, where he is seated by the fire and sharpening his blade with his whetstone.
“Did you speak to the tiger hunter last night?” he asks, glancing watchfully out towards the plains.
“I did,” Lee Chang says quietly.
“…And?”
“I do not know what to make of him,” he confesses.
“What to – Your Highness!” Mu-yeong splutters. “It is true that he has conducted himself well so far, but he is a dangerous man, and we do not know who he is, or why he has placed himself by our side for so long! He may well be in the pay of one of the numerous officials who wants you dead – oh!”
“It is alright,” Lee Chang murmurs calmly, swiftly pressing the fabric of his robe against his hand, where his carelessness has opened up a cut in the join of his palm. “My mistake. I was being incautious.”
Mu-yeong helps him clean and bandage his wound in a guilty silence, but he is not to be so easily put off the subject.
“Your Highness,” he presses, and his voice now holds a tinge of hurt, “Do you trust him more than you trust me, when I say that we cannot put our faith in him?”
“It is not a matter of weighing you against him,” Lee Chang says, a stern rebuff. He feels the sting of his fresh wound in his clenched fist, and forces himself to regain his composure. When next he speaks, his voice is cool once more.
“It is not that I do not trust your intuition in this matter,” he tries again. “He may very well have ill intentions. But my opinion on this is an opinion of necessity. He is a powerful warrior, and he knows these parts well. We would do well to have all the help we can get.”
“Then I will keep an eye on him,” Mu-yeong says obstinately. “I will protect you from his treachery, if indeed he proves to be a turncoat.”
“And I will rest well,” Lee Chang replies, granting Mu-yeong a soft smile, “knowing that you are by my side.”
Lee Chang takes the first watch that night, and even when his shift has been relieved by Mu-yeong, he remains sleepless for hours still, and tosses and turns in his bedroll. Yeong-shin is an enigmatic figure indeed, and yet he fascinates Lee Chang so. Lee Chang wonders why.
The next morning, they reach Jecheon in good time. It is a bustling city, smaller than Sangju but well-developed in its economy. The markets are in full-swing, and the shouts of customers and sellers alike fill the air. Seo-bi slips away to purchase more food and herbs, but Yeong-shin stays close.
“The crowds can be dangerous,” is his response, when Lee Chang asks him if he will not be making his own purchases.
“I am not helpless,” Lee Chang says patiently.
“And he has me,” blusters Mu-yeong.
“I know you aren’t,” Yeong-shin says bluntly, but still he doesn’t retreat. Lee Chang resigns himself to having two overprotective men plastering themselves to his side as he wades through the crowd. He almost trips over an old man buying crockery at one of the stalls, and bends to pick up the man’s straw hat when it falls to the ground. The man accepts it from him with a down-turned head and quiet words of thanks, and soon disappears, washed away by the surge of the crowd.
It seems an endlessly-long time before they reach the magistrate’s court, but finally they do. He is holding court, and as Lee Chang watches with aghast eyes, he orders a peasant stripped to his flesh and whipped within an inch of his life.
“My Lord – please believe me – the bull is mine - ” howls the man, but the governor turns a blind eye.
“How can it be your bull!” he sneers. “Tis the colour of gold – how would a lowly peasant like yourself be granted with so beautiful a creature? It clearly belongs to Lord Choi. Be grateful that I am being so merciful to you. Theft is punishable by death in my book, you know. Be grateful that I am only letting you off with fifty lashes!”
“My Lord, have mercy,” sobs the man, shrieking in agony as the whip tears at his flesh. “I have cared for this bull since it was a calf. I purchased it from Kim Oh Do in the marketplace – he can vouch for me!”
“Lies, lies, and more lies!” squeals a rotund man standing beside the magistrate. “I bought that bull from Kim Oh Do. You stole it from my farm two days ago!”
“Ten more lashes, for his lies,” orders the magistrate, and the poor man being whipped hardly has strength to react to the addition. His back is raw and torn open by the whip, and the copper tang of blood fills the air. Lee Chang can bear it no longer.
“Stop this immediately!” he roars, and strides into the court. The guards unsheathe their swords and step forward, but immediately Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin are beside him, sword raised and musket cocked.
“Your head would hit the ground before even you touched a hair on his head,” Mu-yeong snarls, and the guards balk.
“Who – who – who are you?” squawks the magistrate, shooting up from his seat in indignation. “And how dare you invade my court! Do you know who I am?!”
“Do you know who I am?” Lee Chang fires the question back at him, his voice cold. “By drawing your weapons on me, you have committed yourself to the annihilation of your whole family.”
A familiar figure stumbles out from the doors bordering the magistrate’s seat, and although it is initially difficult to recognise his face in the low light, the shape of his beard and belly give him away.
“It is the P-p-p-prince!” Cho Beom-pal whispers frantically into the ears of the magistrate. “The Crown Prince Lee Chang!”
Murmurs begin to spread among the residents of the court, then as one, they fall to the ground.
“All hail His Royal Highness!” wails the governor, his nose buried in the dust as he grovels. There is a sort of savage pleasure, Lee Chang thinks, to be taken in the way he and Lord Choi choke as they inhale sand up their nostrils.
“I have come here expecting a fair and noble man who justly deserves the mandate bestowed upon him by my father,” Lee Chang says, every word clear and crisp and cold, “and instead, what do I find? Help him up, and make sure he gets medical attention,” he says to the guard who had been flogging the peasant. He prowls towards the governor, who is now shrinking into himself and unconsciously wriggling backwards.
“Instead,” he murmurs, softly, and leans down to stare into the magistrate’s eyes, “I find a cowardly, unjust worm who serves only the rich and condemns the poor. It seems it is too much to ask, for a single magistrate in the south to fulfill their mandate to serve the people,” and he directs an icy glare at Cho Beom-pal, hunched over away to the side. The man shudders.
“Rest assured, my father will be hearing about this,” he says, straightening up and glancing around at the rest of the residents of the court. “I am sure he will be as disappointed as I am, that the nobles of this great kingdom have fallen so far in their stature.” He turns back to the magistrate.
“Get up,” he says dispassionately, “and prepare your soldiers for war. You saw the signal fires lit, did you not? There is a plague descending upon Jecheon, and it will be here by nightfall. Monsters that are half-dead, half-alive, and who crave human flesh as fodder, will come upon Jecheon in the night – monsters who can only be slaughtered by fire, or by separating their head from their body. You must send your guards to the gates to defend the city, and set up a barricade.
“Furthermore,” he continues, “there is someone spreading the plague internally, within the cities – you must send guards to investigate this matter, or you will be facing monsters both within and without Jecheon. Advise the citizens to hide in their homes and climb as high as they can, beyond the reach of the monsters.
“Dongnae has already fallen, no thanks to the man you have welcomed into your court,” and he directs another disgusted look at Cho Beom-pal, “and if you do not act, Jecheon will be next.”
“Yes, Your Highness!” answers the magistrate in a tremulous voice, finally daring to look up. “Your orders will be carried out to the letter – please be rest assured!”
“See that they are,” Lee Chang says coolly, “or your head will be the next one rolling on the ground. My blade will gladly do the honours.” He spins around, and makes for the entrance to the court. The guards part around him, and it descends into a scene of chaos, with the magistrate shouting out orders, and his men hastening to obey.
In an undertone, he murmurs to Mu-yeong, “Send a messenger to tell the king that someone has been spreading the plague of the resurrection plant around the cities of the south, and that I am investigating the matter. Tell the messenger to make sure my words do not fall into the hands of the Haewon Cho clan, and that they must be delivered directly to the king himself.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says, and with a final distrustful glance at the men in the court – and Yeong-shin – he departs.
“The more enemies you make, the more I find you need me at your side,” Yeong-shin says quietly, from his side.
On impulse, Lee Chang turns to him. “Will you dine with me tonight? Later, if we calm this madness?” he asks.
Yeong-shin’s eyes widen, the first time Lee Chang has seen him so fazed. “Why me?” he says, voice rough. “Will you not be dining at his lord’s table?”
“I feel no urge to take my supper with that worm of a man,” Lee Chang says in disgust. “And I…” he hesitates. Somehow, I am compelled towards you, he thinks, privately, but of course he does not say it aloud.
“Your prince commands it,” he ends lamely instead, and tries for a smile to show that he does not mean it seriously. It does not work, and Yeong-shin’s gaze is still confused. Confused, and guarded.
“You may decline if you wish,” Lee Chang says softly. “I will take no offence.” His fingers itch – but he knows it would be improper to touch a man of so much lower a station than him. Perhaps he would not have minded, if they had been in private – but now, they are in public, and so subject to many prying eyes.
“How could I decline when the prince of my nation asks me so courteously to honour my table with his presence?” A tinge of bitterness has entered his voice. It is difficult to see his expression, for his head is turned partially away, and Lee Chang frowns.
“Yeong-shin,” he starts, but Yeong-shin shakes his head.
“It is getting late,” he says. “Did you not intend to conduct your investigations?”
“Yes,” Lee Chang says quietly, accepting the change of subject and coming back to himself with a start. He curses himself. It is not like him, to be so distracted. They make for the city.
I must find out who has been spreading the disease among the population, he thinks to himself. The guards at the gates will be a good place to start. And then… and then I will dine with him, later tonight.
Unfortunately, his search brings little fruit, as neither the guards nor the regular vendors in the market have observed any suspicious figures who had approached them. Furthermore, news of the monsters has spread throughout the city, and the people are in a panic, shutting themselves up at home and refusing his questions. It is a maddening state of affairs, but Lee Chang knows of no other way he would have handled matters. Jecheon needs to be prepared for the onslaught that will soon follow.
As night draws nearer and nearer, he grows more and more desperate. The herbalist is the last lead he has, but she knows nothing of a resurrection plant as well, and reports that no one suspicious had visited her either.
“Except for someone who came this morning,” she recalls, “asking the same questions you did. A lady, not fair of face, dressed in white and green. Quite suspicious, if you ask me, with blood spattering her coat - ”
“This woman I know,” Lee Chang dismisses her words, wanting to reprimand her for her careless words against Seo-bi, but chary of offending her and wasting precious time soothing her ego. “Is there really no one else you recall? Anyone who had been acting strange, anyone at all?”
The urgency of his tone compels her to think further, and she taps her chin with a finger, caught up in her thoughts.
“Well, there was that one man…” she murmurs, drawing out the words as she thinks. Lee Chang feels Yeong-shin brush against him, and he forces himself to stop tapping his foot against the floorboards in impatience.
“A man, you said,” he prompts, as gently as he can.
“An old man,” she says. “He asked where the hospital was – I told him it was just down the road, the first left and then three doors away, and I found it odd that he did not know. He must have been a stranger. He seemed like a doctor, a harmless old man, and so I hardly thought of him at first… but see here, have you heard the terrible news? That monsters will come upon us tonight craving for our flesh?” She starts quaking, and there is real fear in her eyes. “I do not know what to do,” she wails, and tears spill from her eyes. Lee Chang suddenly regrets his earlier impatience.
“Lock your doors, and climb as high as you can, if possible,” he advises. “They cannot climb without aid. And bring flame and blade with you, if you can.”
“Will Jecheon fall?” she turns her tearful eyes on him. “I fear it will. Oh, what am I to do! My son… in Hanyang… I fear I will never see him again.”
“Jecheon will not fall,” Lee Chang vows, and every word he says, he believes in. “As long as I live, none shall fall in Jecheon if I can help it.”
“As long as you – who are you?” she asks, eyes widening, but Lee Chang is already halfway out of the door.
“Thank you for your information,” he says quietly. “I will see you tomorrow morning, for you will still be alive. I know you will.”
“The hospital,” he says to Yeong-shin urgently, as they leave the herbalist’s store, “we must hurry there – this old man she speaks of, he must be the one - ”
Then he realises that he can no longer see Yeong-shin’s face clearly. The lamplight in the herbalist’s shop had blinded him to the falling of night-time.
A scream rends the air, and he smells the familiar stench of rotting flesh, and hears the terrible gnashing of teeth. There is a click next to him as Yeong-shin arms his rifle.
“Too late, Your Highness,” he says grimly, “It has begun.” There is a flash of white as he offers a quick smile Lee Chang’s way – not even a proper smile, more a baring of his teeth – and says, “We will have to put off that dinner for another day.”
“I will hold you to your promise,” Lee Chang sighs, and his heart begins to beat faster. He unsheathes his sword. Even in the dimness of the night it glitters and catches the faint glow from the moonlight.
His last coherent thought, before he dives into the fray, is a prayer for Mu-yeong, and a prayer for Seo-bi.
