As a child, she had been peculiar. Her stitches were jagged, uneven, poor and unfit. Her mother would sigh. Her father would laugh. She should mastered stitching by now. 

That’s what a child of the noble clans expected to be. Excel in everything they partake. Her elder sister mastered it in few weeks. Her stitching, however, left so much to be desired.    

But Father understood her the best. He gave lectures as if she’s one of the boys in Sungkyunkwan. He gave her books. She wolfed the books like they were rice cakes and water, until she could easily recite those books in her sleep.

She liked Samguk Sagi the best. Queen Seon Deok of Silla. A woman who doesn’t need a man. A woman that a country needs. In her childish years, she closed her eyes and prayed to Buddha for a chance to be queen.

But Goryeo is not the country she wanted to be queen of. And so, Min Da-Gyeong placed her childish dream back into the box she locked in her heart. Until one day, it was time for her to take it out from the box she had never forgotten.

Mother tried all her might, forcing Da-Gyeong to take up stitching again. She had all the books in their home memorised. It’s time for her take up a hobby fitting of a noble lady. Other new books simply must wait.

But she’s a child of Haedong Gapjok. Stitches isn’t all fun, not when she could play fortune teller to the ever-changing landscape of politics. Stitching follows an established pattern. Divert from the path, it comes off wrong.

Politics is different. The players come and go, the game stakes change, the pattern stays unpredictable yet expected. A morbidly fascinating spectacle that she can’t help but to admire from afar.

Politics is a contradiction. A king with power, has nothing, without the support of the noble clans. Noble clans thrive, as long as their ties on the king isn’t sever. One cannot exist without the other. Yet Haedong Gapjok kept their power by abstaining themselves from meddling with court politics. They are silent observers.

Politics makes sense. Politics makes the air worth breathing. Not an idle day wasted on repeating patterns with needle and thread, hoping to create an image for it to fade and torn.

Min Da-Gyeong lives for politics.

Another day gone, another consultation between father and daughter on Goryeo’s fate. Usual, the norm.

“I think Hong In-Bang made a mistake, Father.”

It fills her with pride. That the other Haedong Gapjok clans recognised her. That she’s not another pretty face.

She, Min Da-Gyeong, could predict politics like she had studied it longer than the men that practiced politics before her.

A hearty laugh rips out from Father’s throat, “My daughter really has a lot of interest in politics.”

It’s not her sister. Or her four younger brothers. That the Haedong Gapjok eagerly waits to hear opinions like they weighed heavier than silver rocks.

“What mistake did Hong In-Bang make?”

Confidence aiding her response, “He attacked Yi In-Gyeom.”

“That. Why is it a mistake?”

“Because Hong In-Bang took off his armour himself.”

The tone in Father’s voice light and teasing, “Armour, you say?”

“General Choi Young has always been antsy about not knocking out Hong In-Bang and Gil Tae-Mi. But why do you think he can’t do it?” She continues, passionately without missing a beat, “That’s because Yi In-Gyeom has been blocking it. Since he attacked Yi In-Gyeom himself, he took off his own armour.”

She pauses, searching Father’s face for confirmation, “Why? Isn’t it right?”

Father’s lips part into a proud smile, “Aigoo. My daughter is better than Teacher Yuk San.”

A praise like that was better than any perfect stitching of a rabbit on a silk handkerchief. Regardless of what Mother repeatedly nagged her about.