Wang So

The sun rises above their heads. Moon blocks its rays. Sparse shadows cast over the valley of Songak. From the mountain overlooking the valley, he halts his horse. The capital city lays glinting, in the shadows. In moments, the sun chases the shadows away. Snow descends faintly, wetting his dark cloak.

Without further ado, So starts the horse again. Together, they sprint across the near barren landscape.

Sweat trickling down his back, heat trapped by the black cloak. Still, he tightens his grip on the rein. Adds more speed to the galloping horse. Behind him, a gang of similarly cloaked men whip their horses to match his.

They ride for days. They ride through green grass and bountiful trees. They ride to the imperial palace gleaming over the horizon.

Every dash, brings him a step further away from the filthy den he called ‘his bed’. He could almost picture the wooden gates. Standing tall. A great barrier that separates commoners from the royals. A wall to protect him from the following, breathing nightmares.

He’d be finally home.

The wind whipping violently against his mask. His eyes catch the bare silhouette of marketplace.

“It’s the wolf dog! The wolf!” Wang So hears one of them yells into the air.

They march in chaotic unison, sending people fleeing from their path. Many hunch over their knees, keeping their heads tucked beneath their arms. Men, women, children. Young, old. Healthy, ill.

No one dares to set their eyes on him. He knows that. A pleasure he allows himself to enjoy. What’s the use of a sword, if it’s not to strike fears in the hearts of weaklings.

He brings the horse to a slow stride. The rest of his men follow suit. Hooves clack against the solid ground, at the pace of an old man.

He’d like to take a short tour around the marketplace that held nothing but contempt for him. Now, he’s unopposed. Riding into the city.

He sees noble ladies, quaking in terror. His lips quirking upwards on its own. Bright hanboks that mother was fond of. 

How long has been since he last gazes at his mother? Too long. He’ll get her a gift. A butterfly hairpin. Simple, elegant. Everything his mother is. Not the cruel woman he calls his ‘mother’, for the last two years.

The wall. It’s here. Erect and imposing, right before his unblinking eyes. The Goryeo Palace. Home.

A watchman bellows, at the sight of black-hooded riders, “Open the door!”

So pulls down his hood. His hair all tousled during their journey. It’s the least of his worries.

“I will leave a servant with you, Prince. Once the ritual is over, do not delay and return to Shinju,” instructs the lead attendant, his mouth twisted into smug grin. The man the Kang clan sent to keep a watchful eye on So.

He adds, “You are also an adopted member of our Kang household, so do not forget,” a gentle reminder, laced with a threat, “Please uphold our family name in the emperor’s presence.”

“An adopted member?” So sneers. Sarcasm dripping from his tone, “And here I thought I was your hostage this entire time.”

That sarcastic sneer vanishes from his face. So eyes the man. Daring for an answer that says otherwise. When they’re so far from Shinju. Close to Songak.

The lead servant chooses to keep his mouth sealed. A wise choice. He really didn’t want to draw any blood than the only one he intended for. So rears his horse into the gate alone. Soldiers greeting him with a bow. He dismounts.

His fingers graze the hilt of his sword. He yanks the blade off from its sheath. With all his might, cuts through thick muscled neck. A tormented neigh rings across the courtyard. Blood spurting across his face. Blots of red splatters adorn his mask. The taste of coppery acid tinges his lips.

The horse falls dead. That poor thing will die later anyway. Overworked with exhaustion to get So back to the place he was born into.

A deafening silence falls into the courtyard. Horror. Appal. Fear. All written clearly on their faces for So to see. Yes, he sees everything through the mask he wears. It’s nothing new.

“Y-you cannot use your sword inside the palace,” stutters a soldier. So graciously drops his bloody sword into the soldier’s hands.

“S-shall I prepare a horse for your return?”

“I won’t be going back,” is all he answers. Regards the soldier a cold stare. That takes his message across the soldier clear. He wipes the blood off his face with the back of his hand. Walks into the palace.  

I won’t be going back.

Not to the hell hole he spent fighting tooth to nail for his survival.

I won’t be letting myself return to Shinju as a hostage.

That’s the only promise So intends to keep, on the behalf of the Shinju Kang Clan.