BW C102

Chapter 102

 

“Are the people of Ramjae-eup also to head together to the encampment?”

Hoeun asked. At this, Gilsang shook his head.

“No, sir. They are going to another town. It will take about two days from here.”

“Another town?”

“Yes.”

“Ah……”

Hoeun let out a small sigh. He had vaguely assumed they would all go to the encampment, but to hear it was some other town—A thought lingering in his mind, Hoeun asked again.

“Couldn’t they simply stay here and live?”

If they were going to another town anyway, would it not be better to let them remain here? Repairing the walls and reordering the village might take some time, but considering it took two days just to reach another town, it seemed wiser to aid the restoration here.

But then Gilsang furtively glanced around and drew nearer to Hoeun. In a low voice, he explained.

“Normally, that is what we do. We repair the walls, lend aid so they might live again. But this time… there are too few survivors. Perhaps only two or three of every ten lived. Especially the soldiers—nearly all of them perished.”

“Then……”

“Yes. Even if we repaired the walls, the remaining few could never survive here.”

“Ah……”

Hoeun sighed like a moan. The words struck true. If only ten survived where a hundred once dwelled, it was impossible to sustain such a place. Particularly in this world. It would require hundreds just for watch and defense. Then you needed people to tend weapons, to farm fields, to run the infirmary, to staff even schools and all the indispensable places such a village needed…

A dark cloud crossing his face, Hoeun returned to his silence. He grasped the riding harness. Gilsang naturally came to stand behind him, ready to help him mount. Soon, lifted by Gilsang’s strength, Hoeun alighted lightly upon the horse.

And in that instant, something occurred to him.

“Ah…”

It was said the journey to the other town would take two whole days. Then what of the children? Horses and carts were nowhere to be seen. Did this mean they must walk for two days with those small feet? Moreover, Jeongi was carrying Jeongwoo on her back—?

At that thought, Hoeun immediately pulled the reins and turned back.

“Young master? Where are you going?”

Gilsang, having just mounted his own horse, widened his eyes.

“I must quickly run behind for a moment.”

Thus informing him, Hoeun spurred the horse’s flank.

“Young master!”

This time, Gilsang raised his voice unusually loud. Hoeun glanced back and waved his hand.

“I’ll be back, soon, very soon!”

Hoeun pushed past people, against the flow, until he reached the children again.

“Young master? Why have you returned?”

Jeongi cocked her head in curiosity. Hoeun answered: “Just a moment, just a moment,” and leapt down from his horse. He promptly approached a man nearby, who was gripping a cart laden with goods. Bowing courteously, Hoeun went straight to the point.

“If I were to carry your load in other ways, could I borrow your cart?”

“What?”

The man’s eyes rounded, uncertain what he meant. Hoeun persuaded him with a string of words, pointed towards the children, and earnestly sought his understanding. After some hesitation, the man finally yielded. After all, he would lose nothing from it.

Hoeun hitched the cart to his horse. Then, beckoning, he called Jeongi over.

“Jeongi, come here. Could you ride a horse?”

She shook her head vigorously, eyes frightened even of looking at the horse. Hoeun, momentarily troubled, wondered what to do—when another girl sprang up with her hand raised.

“I can! I know how to ride a horse!”

Hoeun’s face lit with glad relief. He set that girl and another up onto the horse, while the remaining girls, together with Jeongi and the baby Jeongwoo, were placed into the cart. Though the packed baggage left little room and they had to sit squeezed together, it was still better than walking.

After seeing the children settled, Hoeun approached his horse once more, gently stroking its neck as he whispered.

“I entrust the children to you.”

The horse snorted as though in reply. Hoeun met its gaze and smiled softly, then offered farewells to the children before turning back to rejoin the column. Running on his own two feet where he had formerly ridden took him some distance, but not once did fatigue press him.

Thus passing the refugees, passing the soldiers of Jeokudae, and just brushing by Gilsang—

“Young master? Why are you walking? Where is your horse?”

Asked Gilsang, startled.

“Ah, I gave it to the children. I’ll be riding something else instead.”

“…Something else? What do you mean, something else…”

“There is something. For me to ride.”

Hoeun answered with a mischievous smile. And so he ran past Gilsang, trotting along on unsteady feet, not particularly swift but earnest in effort. The jade-colored ribbon bound in his hair fluttered like a dancing tassel.

Running and running, Hoeun shortly reached the foremost lead of the column.

“Haa, haa……”

Hands braced to knees, he bent over, breathing heavily. Having run so hard the day before, he had hoped his stamina might have improved, but alas, it had not. The breath would not calm, he panted and exhaled, and then—

“What is this.”

A low voice descended over the back of his head. Hoeun lifted his gaze. Mounted upon his horse, Taemuk looked down at him with an expression that asked, Why are you here? A map still in his hand.

Catching his last breath, Hoeun straightened his disordered robes. He quickly ran fingers through his braid, smoothing it back, then, with eyes leveled steadfastly upon Taemuk, spoke.

“Please, allow me to ride with you.”

“…What?”

Taemuk frowned. Hoeun, with needless clarity, repeated firmly.

“On your steed, General. Please take me upon your horse.”

Taemuk deliberately glanced between Hoeun’s thighs, confirming again that his mount was indeed absent.

“And your own horse?”

“I gave it to Jeongwoo and Jeongi. I thought they might find walking too difficult.”

At that, Taemuk faintly furrowed his brow. After a moment of thought, he neatly folded the map and handed it to a soldier behind him. Then he spoke.

“Then walk, yourself.”

“……”

Hoeun’s lips closed slowly. The words stung him, though they were not unjust. It was true. He was the one who had given away the horse. Expecting others to compensate for that choice was not right. Yet—would he have come to Taemuk if he meant merely to retreat?

Hoeun stepped half a pace nearer.

“Your words are right. However……”

“……”

Taemuk’s eyes said plainly: However what? What are you trying to say? Hoeun lifted his brows in delicate entreaty, looking up at him.

“My feet are in pain.”

“…What?”

“They’re even bleeding…”

Hoeun purposefully circled his ankle in the air.

“You yourself applied the ointment, General. Surely you recall.”

His voice trailed soft, plaintive. He lifted his eyes in a face of pure melancholy.

The truth was, Hoeun hated revealing his hurt—hated even feeling it, and most of all, letting another know. If he could still walk, he would willingly force himself forward—two days, three days, however long it took.

But his feet were truly unfit. Should he walk those two days, he would doubtless suffer tenfold more afterwards, stretched into unending pain. His toes might even rot away. Hoeun knew well his own frailty.

That was why he entreated Taemuk. Shameless though it might be, it was still preferable—better than the children suffering, better than ruining his feet and becoming yet heavier a burden later. Shamelessness was the lesser harm.

Besides, well, it was also, by chance, the perfect excuse to carry out another round of his “cling-to-him operation.”

“……”

Yet Taemuk offered no reply. Hoeun, piqued and stubborn now, pressed further, his words sounding half persuasion, half threat.

“If I stumble and fall upon the road, our column will be delayed.”

“……”

“It will bring great trouble, won’t it?”

“……”

“So, General, please grant me a seat upon your horse.”

With that, Hoeun stretched up both arms high, even lifting slightly upon his toes. Looking up at Taemuk with his open, guileless face, his long lashes fluttered gracefully, feather-soft and slow.

“……”

Taemuk gazed silently down at him. His eyes strayed to the uplifted fingertips, trembling faintly with effort. To delicate pink tips, neat nails, and the long red gashes scored across the palms. Seeing it, the memory of the boy’s blistered feet inevitably flashed before him.

Exhaling through his nose, Taemuk tilted his head back. To be drawn into Hoeun’s ploy sat uneasily with him. Not exactly unpleasant—but unsettling, disarming, a threat to his composure.

“General……”

Hoeun called to him pitifully, dragging out the final syllable with plaintive length.

At that point, Taemuk could no longer leave him thus. Clucking his tongue, he leaned forward, gripping beneath Hoeun’s arms, and heaved him up with one clean lift. The light body rose like a feather on the wind, jade robes flaring like unfolding petals, hair ribbon fluttering.

Settled before him upon the saddle, Hoeun laughed childishly: “Heehee.” Looking back up at Taemuk, he offered his thanks.

“My gratitude.”

His eyes curved into smiling crescents.

“……”

Taemuk made no reply, turning his head slightly away at the ticklish prickle rising along his jaw.

Meanwhile, Hoeun smoothed out his crumpled robes, tugging the trailing folds of his garment into place across his lap, brushing his braid forward lest it bother Taemuk. And then—

“……”

His hands had nowhere proper to rest. The last time he had ridden with Taemuk, he had faced him and simply clasped around the man’s waist. But now, sitting frontward with Taemuk behind, his hands floated, unsure.

At first, he grasped at the saddle between his thighs, but it gave no real steadiness. Then he tried clutching the horse’s mane, but it felt cruel, as if it might hurt the beast, so he released it.

After some careful thought, Hoeun quietly slipped his hand to clasp Taemuk’s wrist upon the reins. And in that moment, Taemuk’s body jolted.