Chapter 240 — Though the Khan Refused
The khan refused firmly.
"No. Commander Yi is a treasure of our country. I cannot send such a man into the heart of the enemy camp as a spy."
Yeongu smiled.
The smile was short and cold.
"There is no country in the world that sends the treasure of its nation as a spy. It seems I am a treasure in words only, and in truth a thing whose use has already run out. If that is how I am recognized in this world, would it not be proper for me to disappear?"
The air in the hall froze.
Yeongu's voice was not loud, but it was straight as a blade.
He did not shout at anyone.
Yet his words reached everyone in the council hall.
"I will not disturb this place by wavering over whether to go or stay. I will not argue over right and wrong.
I will disappear for you."
The khan rose from his seat.
A ruler should be careful about showing emotion in council.
This time, he did not restrain himself.
His eyes turned toward Wanyan Xiyin.
"What possessed you to handle the matter like this?"
It was a low reprimand.
Yet its weight was heavier than thunder.
The blood drained from Xiyin's face.
He lowered himself at once, and his knees trembled like aspen leaves.
Even a man who moved others with words, documents, and schemes could not steady his breath before the khan's wrath.
"I apologize. I thought too deeply into the matter..."
Yeongu barely listened to the excuse.
He slowly looked around the room.
There was Zongwang, Zonghan, Xiyin, and the commanders of many mouke and meng'an.
The men who claimed they were building a country had gathered there.
Yet among all those men, not one seemed ready to enter deep into enemy lines, spread words, and stake his own life.
Yeongu's mouth hardened.
"Among all these men, there was no one to send, so you tried to send the commander of an allied country into enemy territory as a spy."
He took one step back.
The movement held courtesy, anger, and mockery all at once.
"I shall go. I will go. Prepare the Balhae soldiers before the west gate by noon today."
The khan reached out.
"Commander Yi."
Yeongu did not look back.
He left the council hall.
His steps over the threshold were rough.
He did not shake his shoulders and laugh as he usually did.
He did not answer someone's words with a careless joke.
Only the cold sound of his armor pieces clashing remained behind him.
Why were there so many people like this in the world?
Yeongu clenched his teeth.
They could not see a person as a person.
They saw only use.
Can he be used, or can he not?
Where should he be placed to make an effect?
In whose hand would he cut farther?
To them, people were tools.
They were no different from brooms, shovels, hoes, swords, and spears.
If they broke, they were thrown away.
If they dulled, they were sharpened.
If they did not fit, they were fitted to another handle.
Yeongu could not endure that thought.
Even he, who had killed men on the battlefield, did not want to treat people that way.
Even when he killed, a person remained a person.
Enemy, prisoner, ally, even the young soldier who cried beside a fallen horse — each had the weight of a life.
But the words inside the council hall had been different.
Send him to Changchun Road.
Mix him among the Balhae soldiers.
Spread Yelü Chun's name.
Shake Yelü Zhangnu's heart.
In all those words, the life of the man going there had grown small.
The person called Yi Yeongu disappeared, and only one usable blade remained.
When he stepped outside, the cold air struck his face.
The courtyard of the newly rising palace still smelled of timber and wet earth.
In the distance, craftsmen stopped their hands and looked at him.
The guards also watched his mood and stepped aside.
Yeongu did not slow his pace.
As soon as he returned to his tent, he loosened the straps of his armor.
The metal plates came away from his body one by one.
The more the weight left his shoulders, the heavier his insides became.
He had to become someone other than a battlefield commander.
The conspicuous armor, the fine sword, and the signs of a Goryeo commander all had to be cast aside.
He took out an old military uniform.
It was the common clothing of an ordinary soldier, steeped in the smell of dust and sweat.
Under it, he put on the heart-protecting armor his master had given him.
The thin armor plates touched his chest.
The cold sensation pressed against his skin.
It was invisible from the outside, but it could stop at least one blade.
It had saved his life before.
No one knew he wore it underneath.
Yeongu pressed his palm once against his chest.
It felt as though his master's hand still remained there.
At his waist, he fastened a short, inconspicuous blade.
He left the good sword behind.
A thing too fine spoke of a man's station.
Into his pouch he placed a few pieces of dried meat, small pieces of silver, a container for embers, needle and thread, thin folded paper, and a small piece of ink.
A man going into enemy territory dies faster the more he looks like a commander.
He lives by being common, and he moves by being light.
Lastly, he looked into a bowl of water instead of a mirror.
The face reflected on the water was still Yi Yeongu.
A commander of the Goryeo army.
A man called the khan's treasure.
A man who had just been treated like a tool inside the council hall.
Yeongu stirred the water with his hand.
The face broke apart.
Then it settled again.
This was punishment.
He did not know from whom.
It was punishment for arguing that spies should be sent to shake the enemy's rear.
I thought I, and I alone, was a general standing at the vanguard of an army fighting the enemy.
How could my role alone be so splendid in this world?