Chapter 18 – [1805]

“Today is a special day! That's why the King has a very special surprise event for today's guests,” the speaker announced before seeking the King for his permission to began. When nods were exchanged, the spokesperson continued, “We’re sure this nation wants to know and see the skills of his highness, the Crown Prince’s for themselves. Therefore, the King has arranged a friendly combative round between Crown Prince Heo Junseung and as you all know, the first child of Minister blood to ever study with the Crown Prince, Minister of Defense Oh Jaejung’s only son Oh Changwoo!”

The stage that was set up was ready and prepared for the competitors. Junseung, who turned heads as he stood from his seat and head toward the stage, wore a stiff and expressionless countenance. Simultaneously Changwoo make his way toward the platform from the audience after receiving his father’s sword.

“Your majesty, was the spar Junseung’s idea?” Queen Yoomi asked under a whisper as she looked toward Minho. The King ignored her question and instead gesture for a worker to bring out his promised object. On the stage Changwoo and Junseung came face to face before stopping just feet from one another.

While the sun’s light reflected off the tidy stage, Junseung was the only one with a frown. Changwoo wondered if the reason was because of their small argument from earlier or the brightness of the day. Junseung who avoided any deep thoughts spoke once he locked gazes with Changwoo, “Let’s use this moment to ridden any ill feelings from earlier, alright?”

Changwoo hummed, “Like always, let’s do that,”

Junseung flashed a small half smile before reaching for the sword in Changwoo’s hand. As he pulled the weapon out from its scabbard, Changwoo kept calm despite being surprised at his friend’s move. Junseung held the sword out between them and pointed the tip toward Changwoo’s neck, “Don’t worry, your weapon will be here in a bit,”

As the audience watched in awe and whoas, from behind the stage’s steps they could see a man carrying out what appeared to be a wooden box. Officials of the palace immediately recognizes the box.

“Isn’t that...?” Queen Yoomi mumbled before trailing off.

This time Junseung took a step back in order to give the deliver and Changwoo the space to interact. The short man held the box out to Changwoo. “His majesty had requested you handle the weapon in this case,” the man said to Changwoo. The teen traced the wooden brown box with his eyes and could see how the outside was carved with a variety of old art.

With care and caution, Changwoo faced the box and used both hands to lift open its top. Inside he took out the sword that had everyone in shocked.

“The King’s sword,” were the exact words that floated about the gallery.

Junseung was always a person of his words but Changwoo did not expect the King to agree to the boy’s promises. Changwoo had seen the King’s sword mounted on the wall, but to see it up close and in person gave him chills. What is something goes wrong when he picked up the weapon? What would the thousands of onlookers think? Despite his worries, Changwoo was also thrilled to be holding the artifact. Though the King’s presence was as night and day, Changwoo had to look to the man for permission.

Upon locking eyes, he saw the warmth in the older’s eyes and smiled while nodding. With one last look toward Junseung, Changwoo reached into the box cautiously. While risking his life, he slipped his fingers under the body of the sword and gently clenched it. He could feel the weight of the sword, as expected it was heavier than that he normally practices with.

“Get out your sword Changwoo, we mustn’t keep the audience waiting,” Junseung said with a small smile. Changwoo was energized by Junseung’s words and quickly removed the sword from it’s scabbard before pointing the tip toward Junseung.

“My loyalty lies in his majesty’s sword, please know that your high—”

“I know,” Junseung cut in, “and don’t forget it’s Junseung, not your highness,”

Changwoo scoffed a smile, “Right, your highness Junseung,”

Junseung returned the brief smile before putting on a serious face; with Changwoo’s sword clutched tightly in his hands he held it to eye-level.

Seventeen year old Yeong sat in the room of his mother’s, criss crossed, watching over the motionless body of the aging woman. The only maneuver assuring Yeong that the lady was still alive was how her flat chest rise and drop at a stabled pace. Years has passed but his mother showed no signs of improvements, in fact her illness has worsen. She could barely sit up to eat a meal a day, if she tried her arms would shake and she would lose her balance. Even if she managed to swallow a good amount of food, more than half of it would be vomited. So the time and days Yeong spent with his mother increased as he feared for her unpromised days to come.

Though a thinker, Yeong wished he didn’t had to think of his dying mother. As she was the woman who had given birth to him but he had never embraced or stood beside her. Let alone got the chance to know her or see her dance. “Today at the academy, we spoke on the topic of war,” Yeong began, telling his story to his resting mother whether she could hear him or not, “Father always taught me the families of weapons and knowledge, but war was hardly spoken of. My teacher had us shared our thoughts on war,” Yeong paused to see if his mother would react, when she didn’t he continued, “when it was my turn did you know what I said?” An embarrassed smile grew on Yeong’s bony-structured face as he recalled the crystal clear memory, “In front of the class and with confidence I said war is a feared event or events a nation can choose to include in its history of casualties. That it was the host to convince and encourage the mad and offended to engage in an activity of kill-me-or-I-kill-you.”

Yeong took a deep breath before forcing a chuckle, “It was silly. Even my younger peers mocked me. My lecturer, in the six years I’ve known him, for the first time looked at me with coldness in his eyes before saying, ‘Yi Yeong, how could you? As an only child of an important figure of our nation be so blunt to the subject of war?’” The voice of his teacher rang in his head and he recall the exact words he responded with. This time he only thought of the incident and decided not to present it verbally before his mother. “My father’s position has no ties in my own belief. I have always believed wars are no better than for a nation to swank where one lies in terms of world power amongst growing countries.” Yeong had said, but was quickly shut down by his lecturer.

“Then, did the Imjin War against the Japanese not teach you one thing about war? After Japan’s Hideyoshi slaughtered our people and conquered Pusan with cannon fire, his army went on to massacred our unarmed civilians and beheaded 30,000 of our people all men, women, and children! So to prevent any further loss our poor people went to war! However, to you, it was just a matter of adding casualties and gathering the mad and offended to show the world where our power lie?!” Yeong recollected how the elder spat his words and how a scowl was plastered on his dark-toned face. Since that morning, Yeong learned that the topic of war was no easy thesis.

Out in the yard he noticed his father coming in. The official probably had just left the Crown Prince’s birthday ceremony as dawn drew near. “Father,” Yeong greeted first as they walk toward one another. The group of guards and maids that had return with the man hurry away as Yeong came closer. The elder stopped and wore a warm smile on his wrinkled face. Yeong who had outgrown his father’s height by a head was nearly six feet tall. “Did you just got back from the ceremony?” He questioned his father.

The elder nodded before suggesting, “Would you practice with me?”

Yeong stare blankly at his father’s words. “Practice…?”

Baekhyun’s smile widen, but even the clever Yeong couldn’t read the reason behind it.

On one side of the squared yard, a variety of weapons were brought out and displayed along the fence of the halls. Yeong stood with his father in front of his sight, “You want to practice swordsmanship again?”

The elder nodded as he his premature beard. “Do you remember the child Oh Changwoo?” Was Baekhyun’s question before all else. Yeong was immediately familiar with the name, but it took him a short moment to gather his memorization.

“The only son of a decade old Ministry of Defense, Minister Oh Jaejung.” Yeong recited.

“That’s right, Minister Oh Jaejung’s only son, the first child of Minister blood to study beside the Crown Prince.” Baekhyun said as he picked up a sword, to caress it.

Yeong shifted in his stance and allowed his curiosity to be known, “Why mention him?”

Baekhyun set down the weapon to pick up another, its satisfactory length, “Today’s celebration wasn’t just for his highness the Crown Prince’s birthday, but also to assure Jongno people that the royals has the Oh’s loyalty.” Yeong who was still a foreigner to the event that earlier afternoon frown in distraught. Had something major happened? Yeong waited for his father to go on, in which he did. “The King ordered his guards to bring down his weapon and present it to the child Oh Changwoo, in front of everyone Oh Changwoo swung his majesty’s sword with undeniably great skills. It’s safe to say that he is of good blood and will become someone very important to the people.”

“Are you suggesting I befriend him?” Yeong asked carefully, but Baekhyun shook his head.

“My reasons for bringing him up was to assure you that your future will be brighter with someone like him by your side. But at the same time you mustn’t be discouraged. One day your loyalty will be acknowledged by his majesty along with your abilities. So, you must practice both fencing and scholarship, you cannot lose to your friend, Oh Changwoo.” Baekhyun said keeping his sincere smile.

Yeong reached in and selected his weapon, a trident, a common guard’s weapon. “Friend or foe, I won’t lose nor stray far from or to anyone. Trust me, dear father.” Yeong said with determination.

A profound smile glowed on the face of the older as he nodded and felt out the weapon of his choice, which like his son was a trident.

End of Chapter Eighteen.