The Order Engraved on the Yuyeopjeon
The yuyeopjeon was delivered to Jin Mu-sik.
The small iron coin lay in his palm, its edges worn pale from being rubbed countless times.
He lowered his gaze and read the characters carved into it.
召集 河南 – 希.
It was neither cipher nor hidden code.
It was the simplest and most direct of commands.
"'Hee' refers to General Lee Hee, 'Hanam' is this Jin estate, and 'Assembly' means gather everyone—is that the meaning?"
Jin Mu-sik looked up as he asked.
Yang Jo-hwi scratched his head and gave a sheepish grin.
"Heh, yes, sir. That's how we always write it."
Jin Mu-sik's eyes darkened.
The words were simple, but their weight was not.
"Feed him first and let him rest. You take charge of this matter."
He entrusted the task to a former Baekryongdae man who had settled in the estate.
The two clasped hands like brothers reunited after long years.
Their laughter was rough and unrefined, but unmistakably joyful.
That evening another man arrived.
The next day, one more.
On some days, five came together as a squad.
They entered coated in dust, armor dulled and belts faded from long roads.
The horses were gaunt. The men were gaunter still.
Yet the swords at their waists and the spears slung across their backs remained straight and true.
The Baekryongdae was gathering.
Small rooms built beside the training yard were given to them.
Two men to a room.
Meals were taken together.
No one fully understood the reason, but since they were the late Supreme General's men, they were treated with utmost respect.
Boots were removed on the wooden floor.
Faces were washed in cold water with murmured sighs of survival.
Meat and greens simmered in the cauldrons.
Warm broth passed from hand to hand, and color slowly returned to hollowed cheeks.
The laughter of men who had long lived on battlefields carried a deep, rustic warmth.
So-un felt a familiar presence and stepped outside.
Yang Jo-hwi, having regained some strength after eating, spotted him immediately and shouted,
"Hey, Scholar! You're here too? Why's everyone here except me?"
His voice rang across the guest hall courtyard.
"You've arrived. What brings you here… I thought you were returning to your hometown after the war?"
"It's an assembly. 十八, another assembly. If they say gather, we gather."
He grumbled, but his face was bright with a grin.
For men who had lived long in war, home was never a place to linger.
Their bodies remembered the smell of dust.
Their ears remembered the drumbeat of battle.
"Why? Why are you gathering?"
So-un's tone had shifted into that of a young scholar, polite and precise.
Servants passing by giggled softly.
Alone, he was addressed as "Young Master."
Among the Baekryongdae, he became nothing more than a scholar boy.
The dissonance of language made it oddly amusing.
"When did we ever gather knowing the reason? If they call us, it means there's a fight."
"How did you receive the message?"
"You know—scratched into an arrowhead."
"Ah, that… Why did they call us? Why…"
So-un tilted his head.
"We don't need to know that. If they say gather, we gather."
"I suppose… that's true."
"But why are you here?"
"General Lee ordered me to remain here."
"And where's that gentleman now?"
"If you speak like that, you might get scolded."
Yang Jo-hwi widened his eyes and glanced around nervously.
His large eyes, already round, rolled even more anxiously.
"No one's here. Heh. But Scholar, you look sharper than before. Something good happen? Did you take the metropolitan exam? Pass? Fail?"
"I did not take it."
"Those who fail always say they didn't take it. Too embarrassed. You the same?"
"No. Truly, I did not sit for it."
"Why? You said when better times came you'd pass and become a magistrate."
"It does not seem to be such a time yet."
Yang Jo-hwi laughed loudly.
"Still, you should've taken it. If you passed, I was going to ask you for a post. I could manage a constable position at least."
"Why not request a captain's post?"
"Don't mock me… heh."
Their voices echoed across the granite courtyard.
The veteran spoke bluntly, teasing without restraint.
The scholar responded in careful honorifics.
Jokes passed back and forth without end.
It carried the rough affection of men who had survived battle together.
Though So-un smiled and conversed lightly, his thoughts moved swiftly.
Lee Hee had sent word by yuyeopjeon.
He had summoned the scattered Baekryongdae from across the land.
The meaning was singular.
Something had changed concerning the Supreme General.
The enemy might strike the main estate.
Lee Hee could not come himself.
Thus, he called the Baekryongdae.
It meant the enemy either knew—or was about to know—that the Supreme General still lived.
The estate was in danger.
That was why there was an assembly.
"With the Baekryongdae, most military actions can be repelled—unless it is a great army."
So-un's eyes narrowed slightly.
The number of Baekryongdae now within Jin-gajang formed clearly in his mind.
Who had come from the Northern Route Army.
Who wielded the spear best.
Who excelled at archery.
The coming crisis unfolded before him like a painted map.
This was not a martial contest.
Not some petty duel of the jianghu.
This was war.
Where the Baekryongdae was needed was always war.
So-un clasped Yang Jo-hwi's hand once, then slowly released it.
Laughter still filled the courtyard.
But in his sight, another landscape had already opened.
The wind blowing toward Jin-gajang had changed its direction.