Chapter 354. Youngwoo's Request 1
At that moment, Aguda looked at Youngwoo and asked,
"Then what will that place be? Jin? Balhae? Or something else?"
Youngwoo closed his eyes.
He had heard that Balhae restoration movements had been shaken many times by exactly this kind of question.
What would the state be called?
Who would become king?
Would they revive the old name of Balhae, or enter the order of Jin?
One careless answer could see him branded a traitor, a rebel, or a separatist.
Youngwoo slowly opened his eyes.
"I do not know. Whether it will be Jin or Balhae, or under what name it will ultimately be settled, is not for me to decide.
"But those people committed their troops because they believed in a new order that has not yet even been defined.
"They lent their strength to a battle we could not be certain of winning.
"I believe we must answer that trust."
The command tent fell silent.
Only then did Zonghan understand why Youngwoo had asked for two thousand soldiers.
Two thousand was too small a force to establish a new state.
It was even smaller than the Balhae force that had already submitted.
It was a number unlikely to overpower them or dictate their future.
Zongwang asked cautiously,
"What will you do if the Great Khan refuses to give you those troops?"
He invoked the Great Khan's name, but the question sounded very much like his own.
Youngwoo answered without hesitation.
"I intend to request leave from Gaegyeong—or from one of the senior men present here.
"And even if I must go alone, I will help them."
Conversation stopped.
No one there was unaware of Youngwoo's tendency to push matters through in his own way.
He had insisted that soldiers be armored.
That they be properly equipped.
That spoils be entered into ledgers.
That prisoners be classified.
At first, many of those ideas had been difficult for the Jurchens to accept because they did not fit their customs.
Yet in hindsight, most of them had proved right.
His demands always seemed to point toward some larger standard.
This time, however, it sounded different.
They understood his concern for the submitted Balhae troops.
But a mere Commander was now saying he would bypass military command and diplomatic procedure and move on his own.
It sounded as though he could no longer distinguish public duty from private feeling.
Kim Busik asked,
"And if leave is not granted?"
The question itself seemed to imply that Kim Busik had the authority to grant or deny it.
Youngwoo did not hesitate.
"I will resign."
A murmur swept through the gathering.
Was this no longer merely a question of the order and timing of an offensive?
Was securing Liaoyang really important enough for a single Commander to stake his office upon it?
The subdued murmur gradually filled the tent.
Youngwoo continued.
"We called them our kin.
"We said we shared the same blood.
"We said we were branches grown from the same root.
"We were the ones who said those words first.
"They believed them and committed their soldiers.
"After they have shed blood for us, can we simply leave them standing in an open field?"
He looked toward Go Hoewon and Go Youngchang.
Both sat with rigid faces.
The Balhae section seemed to hold its breath.
"I care little about what the state will be called or who will gain political power.
"Those are matters for the Great Khan, the Supreme Commander, and the elders gathered here to decide.
"There is only one thing I know.
"These men sent their soldiers into a battle none of us could be certain of winning.
"They shed blood beside us.
"We must repay that.
"We must secure Liaoyang and give them a city and a military base to return to."
Park Geunsu rebuked him quietly.
"Commander Yi, distinguish public affairs from private ones."
Youngwoo looked at him.
His face was still red from drink, but his eyes were clear.
"This is not a matter of public and private feeling.
"Protecting those who have submitted to us is not personal sentiment.
"It is giving a road home to people who came because they believed our words.
"More than that, we said Balhae, Jurchen, and Goryeo were one people.
"I do not believe this is something we can simply set aside because the great battle is over and we want to rest.
"Imagine that several Jin Meng'an and Mouke were still in Liao hands.
"What would you do?
"The Balhae people who remain in Liaoyang are not someone else's problem.
"Would you say that because the great battle is over, everything else can wait?
"Are we truly one people?
"Are we truly another branch grown from the same root?"
Someone audibly swallowed.
That was the truth of it.
People spoke of one nation, one branch, one bloodline, and then used those words for their own purposes.
It was easy to turn kinship into justification.
Into decoration for one's own authority.
If they were truly one people—or intended to become one—then saying we will deal with it later was no longer so simple.
Were they truly one?
The gathering held its breath.
The question pierced every man there.
It was easy to speak of one root.
Easy to speak of shared blood.
Such phrases appeared in diplomatic documents.
They appeared in flattering words exchanged over wine.
On the battlefield, they became a cause capable of moving men.
But were they truly one?
They had lived apart for decades—no, for centuries.
Could people who had lived under different languages, different laws, and different military commands truly become one?
They had already spent generations calling one another by different names and living as subjects of different states.
Had they not, in truth, already created a world in which they were separate?
Yet if they wished to make those words true, there was a price to pay.
They would have to move exhausted troops again.
They would have to march toward Liaoyang, still a city of Liao.
They would have to create a place for the Balhae soldiers who had submitted.
If they spoke of unity but withdrew the moment real risk appeared, then those words became ornament.
A phrase for power.
Bait used to call men to war.
A convenient embellishment to make battle easier.
The moment they claimed that Balhae, Jurchen, and Goryeo had grown from the same root, those words could no longer remain mere rhetoric to be written into histories.
And if men used such words only for their own advantage and abandoned them when sacrifice became necessary, perhaps those men deserved to be branded as betrayers of their own people—traitors to the very cause they had invoked.