After resting for the night, Seungwan led her small army before the break of dawn to Singiri and passed it, then towards the fortress of Taein. Riding with her in place of Joohyun, who was still incapacitated from her injuries, was Namjoon, who had equipped himself with second-hand armour taken from fallen rebels and thus cut a striking figure similar to that of Seungwan’s own lancers, even though he had not attained such status. 

“I understand that you were born in the south among the Jiaozhis,” said Seungwan to him as they rode along the road to Taein. 

“That’s not correct, my lord. My father, who was born among the Jiaozhis, was the stablehand of Lord Joohyun’s father, and I who was born in Yodeok took over the role even after her family fell into ruin.”

“I’m surprised you are good with horses,” said Seungwan. “I thought Jiaozhis were most at ease on their bare feet.”

“That may be true, my lord, but my feet are soft and tender like a silk duvet, and I would grind them into dust if I had to walk everywhere.”

Then, in a melodious southern voice, Namjoon began to relate:

Let me join with the cavalry if they send me off to war

Let me have a noble steed like my forefathers before

Let me ride with the armoured horse that’s riding forth at dawn

Let me earn my spurs in the battle’s blur when the day is lost or won

I’ll wield my lance as the Datars dance and the footmen fire their guns

Where the boiling lead screams with the freezing steel let me be a cavalryman

I beg of you, lords, let me lead the charge at the cannons’ roar

Or at least let me leave a good hoof beat that they’ll remember loud and long

“At least Lord Joohyun will not have any shortage of songs when you are in her company,” said Seungwan. “Not even the Datar bards in my service can sing as literally as you, and from the literal tradition you can sing just about anything.”

“That’s the idea,” said Namjoon. 

“What art is there in singing literally?” Junmyeon interjected, dissatisfied that a southerner was being praised for his musicality. “Perhaps it takes some talent to compose a tune, but there is no skill in dictating the lyrics of a song rather than composing them.”

“Each race was endowed with their own virtues and failings. How curious Heaven’s will is! The Asadals are brave and honourable, but in martial might they are incomparable to the Datars, who are strong from a life of hardship but are also stupid and repulsed by new things. The Sinae are the most intelligent people in the world and have invented a great many wondrous devices, but they are also cowardly and susceptible to corruption; their cultural character has infected our kingdom and is the wellspring from which all this evil has sprung from.”

Seungwan did not agree with Namjoon. “The evils of character are not unique to any race of men. What differentiates one man from another is really their individual personality; there are intelligent Datars, honourable Sinaes, cowardly Asadals, and Jiaozhis who ride horses.”

“Our country is perishing through pride alone,” added Hyukjae. “For it is from pride that all other failures of character stem.”

Suddenly Jongin interrupted their conversation. “Look! Is that dawn? But it is not time for it yet.”

“It should be dawn,” said Seungwan. “But I have never seen a dawn so red and orange, and flickering like a fire.”

At these words all became serious. They were nearing Taein. 

“The enemy is near. To battle-order!”

In the distance the heavens reddened more intensely and over a greater space. Indistinct masses of men began to move on the road like a serpent in the darkness. By the time the beleaguered fortress of Taein, sitting threateningly atop the Hanjin mountain, came into view, the morning had come, filling the air with more and more light until the entire length of the highway and the troops marching upon it were revealed to the defenders of the fortress, looking down on the burning town around the mountain and the highway. 

Junmyeon’s light horsemen marched in front, followed by Jongdae, then the artillery, and the infantry and lancers last. The fire grew pale in the light of the rising sun, whose golden rays reflected off the lances of the nobles, making it seem as if a thousand lights were gleaming above their scarlet plumes and colourful banners. After its lines were arranged, the army hid itself no longer, and began to sing with one voice, “Hail the Prince of the Mountain!” The mighty song resounded over the dewy grass, echoed off the trees, and rose to the sky. 

Opposite them, in front of the conflagration, the fence of the town grew black with rebels. As far as the eye could reach regiment followed regiment — mounted men with long lances, infantry armed with crossbows and spears, masses of peasants with scythes, flails, and pitchforks. This time the enemy marched without their usual tumult or howling, and took up their positions against Seungwan’s army. The two opposing forces looked at each other for some time in silence. 

“Look at the battlements of the castle!” pointed out Hyukjae. “The noble banners are still flying!”

The banner of Lord Chaeyoung fluttered powerfully in the wind atop the mountain, displaying against the golden rays of a rising sun the White Hand of Changge. There were fires around the base of the fortress, whose walls bore the signs of fighting and bombardment, but these were few and inconsequential; no gun could be elevated high enough to shoot at the fortress walls, and there existed only one main road to the gates, for all other entrances were accessible only by deadly paths cut into the slopes of the mountain. 

A division of a few hundred issued from the gaps in the fence and pushed forward without order towards the threshold between the two armies, which was another fence that had recently been flattened. 

“That is a skirmishing party,” said Hyukjae. “One of their captains will be looking for a fight.”

“May devils take them!” cried Jongdae, and he rushed forward with a number of other horsemen. 

When the warriors drew near each other, they reined in their horses and hurled abuses at each other. 

“Come on! Come on! We will feed your corpses to our dogs later!” cried the rebels. 

“Are the rabble those you call dogs?”

“To the dung-heaps with your horses, you trash! At least dung-forks are fitter for you than sabers!”

“You are not even fit to plough our dung-heaps, you infamous robbers!”

A rebel who seemed evidently of a peasant origin pushed forward, and put his hands to his mouth to shout, “I hear the Prince of the Mountain bought a gisaeng as her consort; she should send her to us instead!”

Jongdae’s eyes flashed with fire when he heard this, and he rushed forward. Seungwan’s officers upon seeing this cried out: “Jongdae is rushing on! Look! He is rushing on!”

The rebel fell upon Jongdae from a flank, but their sabers scarcely clashed twice; Jongdae turned his mount swiftly and made his enemy’s horse stumble from the quickness. Jongdae’s hand only moved slightly, almost invisibly, but his foe’s saber sprang up into the air, and then he grabbed the rebel by his collar and pulled him with his horse towards Seungwan’s side. 

“Save me, brothers!” yelled the prisoner, but he did not offer resistance as he knew that he would instantly be killed by his captor. 

Tens of warriors clashed with each other over the flattened fence. They fought in single combat, man to man, horse to horse, saber to saber. The courage of the soldiers of both armies grew as they beheld the bravery of their own men and their eagerness to fight, drawing predictions from this battle of future success. At some points a riderless horse would escape from the tumult; at another, a body would fall onto the fence and come to a rest in the midst of the tall grasses. 

Another rebel managed to catch up with Jongdae; this was Renjun, one of Zhou Ziyu’s captains of archers. Swinging his saber wildly he cried, “Turn back and face me, you worm! Unhand him!”

And Jongdae did just that, turning around with his horse and wresting his prisoner off his saddle. Eyes flaring like that of a lion’s, and his entire face bursting with a terrific power native only to that of some kind of war god or divinity, he struck a nail of terror into the unprepared Renjun’s heart with the mere sight of him, and he thundered:

“Fall!”

Renjun’s horse collapsed, as if struck dead instantly by lightning, and took its rider with it. He tumbled off his saddle and landed on his face, and lay there motionless, for his neck had been broken by the fall. 

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