On the next day the army had returned with all haste to Silsa, with the thirty-five iron-clad lancers and two hundred infantry under Lord Chaeyoung in tow and reports of Yifan’s army fast approaching behind them. They passed the ruined country again and left it all to Yifan, for it had already been pillaged once and so thoroughly that there was little left for his army to subsist on once they entered it. All the commoners left there heard the reports of Yifan’s return, and they quickly joined Seungwan’s army back to Silsa with little but the clothes on their backs. But Seungwan gave no regard for them, thinking only of the safety of her own men, who would be slowed down if they attempted to give assistance to the civilians following them. Leaving them on the road, Seungwan marched her army quickly until they were within sight of Silsa, upon which she sent messengers to Jinki to make preparations to receive the civilians. 

It became clear when she had returned to Silsa that the peace embassy had left for Jeongseon by a northerly route that avoided the vicinity of Singiri to the west. Ironic — they wished for peace, but would disregard the imminent confrontation between Yifan and Jinki while they wagged their tongues at the Sage, to console and flatter him for a favourable outcome to the negotiations. But since Seungwan had defeated and slain a considerable number of Yifan’s men just the night before, those eunuchs and officials would have to wring their tongues a little drier if they wished not for the mob to fall upon them at first sight. 

In the wake of the departure of the embassy, there was a great commotion in Silsa. Lord Hyejin had remained with Jinki, adding one hundred lancers to the royal army. There were sounds of barrel-working, hammers upon anvils, billowing of furnaces, and sawing of timber and bamboo. The town and the neighbourhood were swarming with armed men. The name of the General of the Armies was on every lip, in every heart; and together with that name was heard, from Jeongseon to the Jangseong, the ominous word: “War!”

War hung in the air; nothing else was mentioned. War! War! Beyond Silsa the word echoed like the caws of carrion in the wind. Signs in the heavens announced it also: the excited faces of the populace, the glittering of swords, the howling of wolves at the doors of country-houses, and the neighing of horses, catching the odour of blood. War! The youths recited poems of the fall of the Datars; women prayed before statues of the Master; armoured men were marching to the field in Wiwon, Unju, and Bonghwa as well as in the Protectorates and populous Cheonhak, and even from the Sudam islands escutcheoned men sailed west to join the forces of the Sindeok. The whole country was mobilising now; soon the Sage would behold the onslaught of half a million men, burning with a desire for vengeance on the peasants and to pay back the defeats of Ansu and Jeongseon; for the blood of so many thousands of innocents and martyrs; for the disgrace and humiliation. 

Jinki, although weak in strength and authority over the kingdom, was becoming, by the force of things, the sole vessel of all the power of the Crown. The last forces of the Crown, devoted soul and body to them through the tribulations they had endured on the way to Silsa, looked to him for a single nod. Authority, war, peace, and the future of the Sindeok rested in his hands. As the dark shadow of Yifan loomed ever taller over Silsa, so did the great blaze of Jinki burn brightest like a bonfire reaching the end of its kindling. Yifan’s darkness enveloped Silsa, the defenders of the Jangseong, and also on Anju, the court, and the King himself; only the General of the Armies illuminated the path laid before them: War!

Preparations were being made for a campaign in the style of Jinki’s march to the Yichang Plain. But no army could march without supplies, nor could it fight without shot and powder. Grain must be requisitioned; war materiel must be bought with money; equipment must be made and remade. All of this Jinki was lacking, and with no resource other than the war-feeling of his men, he had sent them all out for the single purpose of pressuring the gentries to make their contributions. Thus there were armed men in the streets and the neighbourhood, silently telling the magnates and the tycoons, “We are the sharks of the General; fear them and be obedient to his requests, or these patrolling sharks shall devour you from hunger!” 

The streams of famished civilians, who were only subsisting on the bark of trees and morning dewdrops, continued into Silsa, but Jinki gave no heed to them. In his mind were only the preparations for the campaign against Yifan, and the shortages of supplies and materiel; the civilians were extra mouths that he was not duty-bound to feed. That duty should rest on the gentries instead, but of course they were not willing to part with their stores. 

Seungwan’s first order of business, after dispatching a report to Jinki, was to visit Joohyun in the infirmary, where the valiant noble was still recovering from her serious wounds and tended to by her loyal servant Seulgi. The doctor said that infection had set in some of the wounds, and she was suffering from a mild fever, but it was the natural course of healing of the body and it would pass without harm as long as she did not move from the bed and exert herself. 

Youngjae was first to greet her when she entered the infirmary, having been restless since he had witnessed the departure of Seungwan’s army, but was not able to ride with her due to a broken hand. 

“I heard you scored a great victory over the rebels, great lord,” said Youngjae excitedly.

“Not great enough to pour water on the fire and dampen it,” replied Seungwan. “But I think Yifan shall have to think twice or thrice before rushing upon us with all his might, for he will now know that there are still heroes left on the side of the Sindeok yet.”

“When this sword-hand is healed, I shall carve my face into his memory with a sword to his face!”

“Very large words, my dear friend,” Namjoon said, and led Youngjae out of the room to regale him with the account of the whole battle in the night — leaving Seungwan with Seulgi and Joohyun. 

“How is Lord Joohyun?” asked Seungwan, and then she remembered that Seulgi could not speak. 

The servant rose quietly and removed the wet cloth from Joohyun’s forehead, letting Seungwan approach without her in view. A remembrance of Seulgi’s past life — of subservience, humiliation, and abuse — remained with her in the timidness with which she regarded the Prince, who was to her like a soaring falcon to a worm in the mud. Seungwan gave her a glance, which was sufficient to reveal the toils of military life and adventuring on the small woman’s body (albeit she had obviously been eating much better to be able to endure such hardship). Dark patches hung underneath her eyes due to a lack of sleep, giving her the appearance of a panda — still a terrestrial animal incapable of scaling to such heights as Seungwan. The Prince surmised that Seulgi must have been tending to her master without rest, adding on to the exhaustion of the siege of Bonui