A day before the rescue of the wagon-fort, a disaster came and struck the gentries of Silsa, and in a single day upturned the entire city in a rain of blood. 

It started the day before. In the dead of night, a final letter from the King was delivered to Jinki’s quarters. This time, the King stated, simply and in no uncertain terms, that the country’s patience had run out; Jinki was to take all of his men and issue from Silsa into the unknown beyond to challenge the might of the Sage. Failing this, Jinki would be stripped of all his offices and titles, labelled an enemy of the state, and the safety of his family and lands in Cheonhak would not be guaranteed. 

This time had been long in coming; Jinki had been expecting this deadline for a while now. Anxiety and dread filled him, for he was far from his family and could not protect them, but it was quickly replaced by a deep resignation and calm. He empathised with the plight of the King, knowing that it was from despair that he had written this final letter. He did not begrudge the threats made in the letter, for he was already resolved to do battle to the death against the Sage even with the meager forces with him, and soon either Yifan would come to Silsa and lay siege to it, or he would march towards the hordes and let Heaven’s will be done; the battle would come sooner rather than later. 

Every day the reports of approaching groups and regiments of Yifan came back to Silsa, and the conflagration grew ever brighter and nearer. Even wounded with two defeats and the loss of two commanders, Yifan’s strength had not decreased considerably, and he was close enough that Lord Seungwan’s light horse could fight skirmishes with his outriders and discern the dispositions of his entire army. The mob was no longer a substantial part of it, but the trained warriors of its core were still largely intact, disgraced from earlier defeats but all the more thirsting for vengeance because of it. Yifan’s advance was not sluggish, but slow as he seemed to be waiting for assistance; Jinki had no doubt that Donghae’s sudden appearance at Okcheon must be the reinforcements promised to Yifan. He did not know either if the relief force sent there had been successful. Although Seungwan, as if a wholly changed person, showed no sign of worry and fear for her consort as she toiled day and night to make the necessary preparations of the city and in drilling her troops, Jinki knew that the noble lord was secretly afflicted, wishing nothing but to fly in the direction of her beloved and see for herself what was going on, and to save her consort with the strength of her own hands. He could give no comfort to her, but she would not accept any either. If her consort returned safely, then it was cause for joy; if she did not, then Seungwan’s vengeance would be strengthened, and she would have just cause to inflict untold destruction on the rebels. 

Now Jinki only concerned himself with making the preparations for the upcoming confrontation. If the King wished for him to go to his death with the last of the army of the Crown, then he would do it, but he would not allow himself to be killed like a lamb. He must give the rebels a hard-fought battle from which they would incur tremendous losses even in victory. He needed to call in the debts of the gentries to the state; even just half of those debts would be sufficient for his doomed battle. All he needed was a provocation. 

Feeling that his room was hot and stuffy, Jinki went outside for a stroll. Not far from his quarters he found Hyukjae smoking and snorting from the fumes of his pipe. 

“It is late, your eminence. Shouldn’t you be sleeping now?” asked the former Headman. 

“I could say the same for you.”

Both men walked for a while, turning the conversation to all matters except for military ones to take their minds off the continual clouds that circled over their heads, promising only darkness and death in the coming days. But it became very apparent that aside from being commanders of men, there was very little in common between Jinki and Hyukjae; Jinki spoke at length about an algorithm for solving systems of linear equations, and then about the increasing rarity and decreasing quality of the ten-line monastic poem in northern Nanwian, while Hyukjae talked about the different forms of archery across the nations, and tales of exploration in the far north done by foreigners and Nanwians alike. 

Jinki tried his hand at composing a poem on the spot: 

Through the uncharted veil, shadows linger.

Footsteps echo in the quiet unknown.

Bold spirits dance with the untamed shadows,

A journey into realms unseen, untold.

Whispers of the wind reveal secrets,

Curious eyes pierce the shrouded mystery.

In the unclaimed domain, danger lurks,

Horizon unfolds, a silent allure. 

He did not complete it, for he had run out of words for the last two lines. But Hyukjae, not knowing much about refined poetry recited by the scholars and students of the ancient works, was impressed nonetheless. 

“An excellent poem, your eminence,” said the former Headman. “I know no other military man who is as learned as you in the scholarly arts.”

Jinki looked longingly into the burning horizon. “I have been neglecting my studies as of late… the times do not allow me the luxury of indulging myself in my true passions.”

After a long pause, Jinki suddenly began reciting a new poem: 

Triumph or defeat are grasses in the wind,

None can discern to whom they incline. 

Smiting and executions are abound, 

Yet the country still sighs from unrest. 

Turning to Hyukjae, Jinki stopped and asked, “What do you think?”

Hyukjae had divined the meaning in Jinki’s words, and understood not just the sentiment with which he was inspired, but the vision of the General for the future of the country — a dark one with little hope. 

“Hatred has grown in the hearts of the family. The smell of killing and butchering is heavy in the air. I cannot help but feel anguish.”

“I too feel your anguish, worthy Headman. But I am a loyal servant of the state; I have no other choice.”

Hyukjae understood. Needs must.

Regarding Hyukjae solemnly now, Jinki asked, “Tell me candidly, my brother, and do not dare to mince your words: do you think that the last hour of the Sindeok has come?”

The old soldier thought long and carefully, and finally said with great seriousness, “In The Art of Zhuge, it is said, ‘Treat the disease of the future instead of the now; curb the disturbance of the future instead of the now.’ The great states before the Sindeok could not escape the cycle of history — the rise and fall of nations — because they strived for rulership of all men, and not the good governance of the country. I am afraid that this disease of the Sin