NOVEL NEXT Ch. 23
Chapter 23: Training
From that day on, I learned classical Chinese and idu from Boknyeo.
To summarize my impressions briefly, they were as follows:
‘Ah, King Sejong… I have come to truly appreciate your greatness anew.’
I can guarantee that anyone who is taught idu for just one week would become an ardent fan of King Sejong.
Damn it, I’ll make sure to someday create Hangul first. Another reason for success has just been added.
Beyond idu, I steadily prepared myself for advancement. One of those preparations was buying slaves to replace household chores and farm work.
“Ten slaves!”
Indeed, since marrying Boknyeo, life had changed.
When I was a fallen noble, even with money I could not imagine purchasing slaves—but now I showed the royal seal-inscribed bocheon (precious bracelet), and I could buy them immediately.
Who am I? The (unofficial) son-in-law of the royal family.
‘This is why power is so good.’
In the 21st century, with enough money most things are possible—but in this era, even if you pile up money in chests, without power you can’t wear silk clothes, ride in a palanquin, or buy slaves.
Hence, the 21st century is called capitalism, and this era is called a class‑based society.
“Next are warhorses and archery horses….”
These two, too, were things I couldn’t obtain because of class limitations. Since they are treated as precious military assets, only those who have advanced can acquire them.
But the funny thing is, if you want to rise through martial arts, you fundamentally need to know how to ride horses and handle archery horses.
It’s not like
This apparently contradictory relationship is resolved by the variable of backing power.
Children of nobles can obtain warhorses and archery horses through their family elders, so they practice them early and rise swiftly.
But commoners who have no means to get those must learn bow‑craft and horse‑handling with cart‑horses and wooden bows, so naturally their advancement is delayed.
‘The system is crafted ridiculously well.’
The state monopoly of archery horses and warhorses is as obvious as the military’s monopoly of cannons and tanks in the 21st century. It’s not something you can argue about from a moral high ground.
Yet because of this unarguable fact, the gap between commoners and nobles gradually deepens… deriving difference from what is taken as natural seems to be the true power of a class system.
‘Status is not just the words written in a legal code, but something intertwined structurally, culturally, and customarily with human life.’
Anyway… since I also achieved status elevation through marriage to Boknyeo, I now have the qualifications to obtain archery horses and warhorses.
“Where can we get those two?”
At my question, Boknyeo smiled softly and answered.
“The soldiers protecting us now are all from the royal faction, right? What they carry are all archery horses.”
…When put that way, it made sense.
Just as the bluebird of happiness and the eastern witch’s shoes, archery horses were already in our household.
“Then… what about warhorses too?”
“Well, the horses they ride also inherited Han blood, so they are warhorses too… but that’s a bit different from archery horses. Horses recognize their owner. If possible, it’s best to ride your own horse.”
Boknyeo shook her head.
“Of course, it’s rare for warhorses to be sold, but it’s okay.”
At that I grinned.
“You’re saying if we go to the market, occasionally a thin warhorse appears? And we’d feed it until it’s fat?”
“Eh?”
Boknyeo asked back.
“…If a warhorse were thin enough to be sold at the market, who in the world would do that? They’d rather use it as a stud.”
What the…?
In front of my perplexed face, Boknyeo laughed.
“But this is also an interesting story. Even during my escape last time, sometimes my husband has this talent for making stories amusingly?”
The next day, to obtain a thin palace horse I brought three bodyguards and went to Pyeongyang.
As soon as we entered the capital, people’s eyes widened.
“A first‑time sight? A noble of the Domestic Fortress faction perhaps?”
“…That build? Could that be one of the Heuksu Malgal from the Heuksu Malgal people that even Khitan would flee on sight?”
“Hey, Heuksu Malgal folks coming to Pyeongyang? And they don’t even use human voices, roaring like beasts they say!”
No one recognized that I was On Dal in Pyeongyang Fortress. Well, there were no photos in this era. My name was now famous, but my face was not.
“You can wait here.”
The man who said so was Yeombu.
He was the leader of the escort unit protecting me and Boknyeo, and he said that by the request of the Grand King, he had been assigned to protect the princess.
He was likely in his fifties.
By the standards of the era, that was quite old—but just the fact that the Grand King personally entrusted his daughter’s protection to him left no doubt about his ability.
How long did we wait?
In the distance someone came rushing.
“Hey, coming to buy a horse?”
“Yes indeed.”
“Perfect timing! One cart‑horse used by the palace got thin and feeble. This way, this way!”
Following the man who looked more soldier than merchant, I found a horse standing there.
“This one! The thin cart‑horse!”
That was a complete lie. It snorted steam as if wanting to run right away; it was not thin at all, and it didn’t at all look like a beast meant for pulling carts.
Then other men came running, panting.
“Wait! That horse! I’ll buy it!”
Just by listening you’d know these professional gamblers—the Goguryeo people born thieves who could know the underlying trick from miles away—could smell a fine horse even a hundred ri away.
At sight of the horse their eyes turned wild as they shouted.
“Don’t know how much that guy asked, I’ll give twice. No, thrice!”
“Oh ho, coming late and making noise? Do you think I’m a merchant collecting wealth?”
“…Then why sell?”
“Anyway! First come, first served!”
As you can more or less gather by the context.
This was all part of Boknyeo’s plan.
‘…She sent a letter in advance so that I’d get a decent horse. She orchestrated this play‑like thing because she couldn’t give it outright.’
‘…At this level of horse, it certainly seems to exceed a decent quality.’
The man flustered before me was, even to someone like me who doesn’t know much about horses, clearly a fine horse.
Its mane was glossy and muscles defined—even looked better than the royal faction’s horses ridden by the elite troops of Goguryeo.
I asked the trader.
“How much?”
“This… just five pilcoin.”
At that absurd price a bystander erupted.
“Are you nuts? This fine stud for just five pil? Sell him to me. I’ll pay fifty pil. No, a hundred pil!”
“If the seller won’t sell, why would buyers line up? If you’ve gotten the horse, best leave fast before trouble.”
I led the so‑called thin horse—and it was anything but thin—back toward Gromchon.
There were Goguryeo people with greedy looks in my direction upon seeing the horse (it was their instinct), but no madman dared rush me while I had three guards.
Obviously. Goguryeo people don’t value their lives? No—they don’t seek death needlessly.
Anhak Palace.
Yeon Jayu bowed his head in front of Go Yangseong.
“On Dal has taken the horse.”
“Good, well done.”
Not long ago, Go Yangseong had received Boknyeo’s letter saying On Dal was preparing for the civil service exam and requested a suitable horse.
But instead of a mere suitable horse, he provided the greatest stud.
The stable keeper said it was “one of the top five in his thirty‑year life.”
He had given more than Boknyeo asked.
Not because he favored On Dal.
“This is the information the monks sent about Gromchon. Three years of abundant harvests. Even a year ago, when everyone else struggled with farming, Gromchon endured. In the letter Boknyeo sent, the details were even more specific. They say he spreads dung on the fields, and even cultivates ginseng in the fields?”
“All true. I also began closely observing Gromchon from the moment he brought in all those Grand King Mushrooms.”
“Heoh.”
Go Yangseong was initially dumbfounded.
Anyone would feel that way upon discovering that the man who married his daughter, whom he thought was a thug, turned out to be a farming genius.
“What do you think? Do you think Boknyeo knew about this?”
“Even the Grand King didn’t know. It's hard to believe the Princess would. It’s like picking up a gemstone by tripping over it.”
“Well, even if it was coincidence, it’s not a bad thing.”
After all, fortune is another name for divine will.
Go Yangseong asked.
“How is On Dal’s reputation these days?”
“Thanks to his marriage to the Princess, it seems he’s washed away most of the stigma from being a fallen noble.”
It wasn’t like On Dal had done anything like sword fighting in the streets of Pyeongyang Fortress that ruined his reputation. It was all due to malicious rumors. Most city dwellers didn’t even know what On Dal looked like.
And rumors tend to be overwritten by other rumors.
At this point, as the protagonist of an unheard-of love story that transcended class—a fool marrying a princess—there were few citizens of Pyeongyang who disliked On Dal.
“…The nickname Fool On Dal still remains, but whereas it used to carry mockery, now it feels more like praise—as in ‘a man so naive and sincere it seems foolish.’”
“So his reputation isn’t a problem. That’s… a relief.”
Even if Go Yangseong didn’t favor On Dal, he still correctly assessed the situation.
‘That farming method is something Goryeo needs, but I cannot be the one to summon On Dal.’
That would violate the principle of harmony he set for himself—that is, valuing ability over faction. His entire accumulation of power stemmed from upholding fairness, and that was also why he was able to appoint members of the Domestic Fortress Faction.
Just because royal authority had risen a bit didn’t mean he could disregard that. Even Wang Godeok’s term as Supreme Chancellor wasn’t over yet, was it?
Of course, he didn’t think Wang Godeok would break his promise—but no one can ever be certain with people.
Even if not Wang Godeok, there would be plenty ready to attack the Domestic Fortress Faction the moment that principle collapsed, saying, “Why should I uphold something even the King doesn’t?”
Now was the time to solidify the justification—not indulge in minor victories.
Even Boknyeo knew this, which is why she didn’t ask for On Dal’s appointment, but rather requested a fine horse, saying On Dal would come forward on his own.
Still, even while knowing all this, Go Yangseong muttered in frustration.
“This is maddening. Am I really the Grand King if I can’t summon a single man I need at will?”
“It is precisely because Your Majesty does not summon men at will that you are the Grand King. People call that authenticity.”
“Heoh, you’re gilding my face now. Hoo, if only he weren’t my son-in-law, I could call him a scholar or something.”
“If that was all On Dal wanted, he would’ve joined my retinue three years ago.”
Yeon Jayu gave a short laugh.
“In my opinion, that man is looking at a higher place. And Your Majesty, you are the strongest wind blowing in Goryeo.”
“Wind?”
“The wind cannot lift a bird on its own. But if the bird flaps its wings, the wind can carry it to the highest heights.”
At Yeon Jayu’s words, Go Yangseong clicked his tongue.
“Hmph, with a tongue like that, you’re no different from a crafty flatterer.”
“A crafty flatterer who sticks beside a wise ruler is called a loyal retainer.”
“That sounds even more like a flatterer.”
He said that, but Go Yangseong trusted Yeon Jayu. Still, Yeon Jayu alone wasn’t enough.
He needed more loyal forces. People to whom he could entrust anything.
“Now that your weapons and horse are ready, from today I’ll be teaching you martial arts, Your Highness.”
My martial arts teacher was Yeombu.
To sum up his career: “He became a noble purely through martial arts.”
‘And didn’t he even participate in the last civil service exam held 20 years ago?’
Not as a test taker, but as an examiner, they said.
“At the time, I was in charge of training the Royal Faction. I only offered a few advisory words based on that qualification.”
To me, that sounded like, “I was a CSAT question advisor.” In terms of the civil service exam, he was practically Goguryeo’s top instructor.
“If it hasn’t changed much since the past, the exam should include dagger (Bido), shuriken, equestrian games, unarmed combat, swordsmanship, and hunting. Among them, we’ll begin with horsemanship.”
Yeombu looked at my horse and spoke.
“It’s a fine horse. Among the descendants of the sweat-blooded horses, it’s rare to see one with such a silky sheen. It’s said that Emperor Wu of Han once waged war against Dawan (modern-day Uzbekistan) just to obtain one, and indeed, it’s understandable.”
Even the Han people were obsessed with sweat-blooded horses—how could Goguryeo not be? After all, wasn’t Goguryeo’s founding myth about King Jumong stealing horses from Buyeo and fleeing?
Because of that, Goguryeo had consistently worked to secure sweat-blooded horses ever since first witnessing them. Through raids, theft, diplomacy, and trade.
The horses acquired this way were treated as palace horses and strictly managed. The one I acquired this time was among the finest—better than most horses noblemen rode.
Yeombu asked.
“Have you chosen a name for the horse?”
A horse name, huh.
The most famous one in Goguryeo was “Georu,” the steed of King Daemusin Muhul.
The tale goes that he stole 100 horses from Buyeo riding it, and when King Daeso of Buyeo attacked in fury, he killed Daeso in return—a very Goguryeo-style story.
But I couldn’t name my horse after the steed of King Daemusin. It reeked too much of treason.
‘Then what should I name it…?’
Naturally, Red Hare of Lu Bu came to mind. It was also a sweat-blooded horse, but I passed on it.
‘No need to cause unnecessary controversy.’
Even in Goguryeo, the Three Kingdoms was well-known, and the phrase “Among men, Lu Bu; among horses, Red Hare” from Pei Songzhi’s commentary was even more famous. Plenty of guys had named their horses Red Hare.
But I was the son-in-law of the royal family.
No need to add a line under On Dal/Controversy in PyeongyangWiki by naming my horse after a legendary mount of a fictional enemy.
That left one choice.
“…What about Bucephalus?”
The beloved horse of Alexander.
In other words, Bucephalus Βουκέφαλος
“…It’s an ox-head. Domesticated oxen are incredibly docile, but they say the wild buffaloes of the Southern Dynasty (Southern China) can gore even tigers to death with their horns. It’s a fine name.”
And so, my horse was named ‘Ox-head.’
All my instructors were outstanding.
Yeombu needs no further mention, and Boknyeo also managed to drill that damn difficult Idu script into my head.
If those two had opened a private academy, there would’ve been dozens, even hundreds, willing to squander half their fortunes just to enroll their children here… and even then, it would’ve been packed so full that most wouldn’t even set foot in the Scholarly Academy.
I was essentially getting free education from something akin to the top-tier DaX Academy of the 21st century.
‘Though it’s a bit intense.’
That’s fine. I never expected it not to be hard. Besides, I’m not the only one struggling.
“Boknyeo, there you are.”
“Mother. What happened with the wood vinegar?”
“I ordered the charcoal masters to collect the smoke from charcoal and leave behind the wood vinegar made from it. Mixing it with water and spraying it around—indeed, it kept the bugs away.”
“Hmm, wood vinegar. I should include that in the farming manual.”
Lately, Mother had been managing the slaves and tending the fields in my place. I told her to rest since she’d worked so hard, but she claimed resting only made her more tired.
And Boknyeo, together with Mother, roamed the village focusing on compiling the farming manual.
Since it was a task shared between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, it was bound to be a high-value industry.
And Boknyeo’s work didn’t end there.
“Um, Princess. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re busy… but our calf isn’t eating…”
“Bring it here.”
The villagers sought out Boknyeo for even the smallest matters.
Though the era of theocracy was over, the royal family still held some religious authority.
Thankfully, she had bodyguards, and the Grand King and nobles had issued warnings not to touch Gromchon… Otherwise, even outsiders might’ve come looking for her.
And Boknyeo was genuinely intelligent. While checking the tongue of the calf that wouldn’t eat, she suddenly said:
“See this? There’s something on the tongue. That’s why it can’t suckle. Slice this off with a knife, then rub it with wild strawberry juice and salt.”
“My goodness, it worked! Thanks to you, Princess, our calf is leaping with energy!”
“That’s not good—it should be walking, not flying! Tell it to walk!”
Watching that scene, I couldn’t help but stick out my tongue in amazement.
“I thought she only excelled at writing, but she’s even well-versed in livestock.”
“You think the story of Lady Yuhwa sticking a needle in a horse’s tongue came from nowhere? Our family is unmatched in livestock knowledge in all of Goryeo. I’ll be overseeing your Ox-head too.”
Well, of course. That livestock-handling expertise was the family secret that turned a Ko who fled from Buyeo into the King of Goguryeo.
And so, a month passed since I began a new life with Boknyeo, learning writing, archery, and swordsmanship.
“On Dal, are you there?”
“Who’s—oh?”
The moment I saw the man at the door, I leapt up.
“Middle Elder of the Jungri Bureau, sir?”
Yeon Jayu had come to visit our home.
A slave is a “subordinate person,” whereas a farmhand, as mentioned, is a contracted laborer. That created some differences.
For instance, it was difficult to have a farmhand participate in family matters or assist in the family business. If they blabbed after the contract ended, there was no way to stop them.
But slaves, especially hereditary slaves, were quite often involved in household affairs or extended their hands into the family trade.
In the story, On Dal is definitely in more need of a slave than a farmhand.
The Han-blooded horse war is known for Emperor Wu of Han’s campaign against Dayuan, which brought back 3,000 Han-blooded horses.
However, the war wasn’t only about the horses. At the time, the Han Dynasty was competing with the Xiongnu and saw the Western territories like Dayuan, Tohara, and Daha as the Xiongnu’s right arm. (The left arm was Wiman Joseon.)
The war was part of cutting off the Xiongnu’s right arm.
The Han used this war to demonstrate their power and subjugated parts of the Tarim Basin, establishing the Western Regions Protectorate.
On Han maps, there’s a part jutting out from the end of Xiliang—that’s the Western Regions Protectorate. It corresponds to modern-day Xinjiang–Uyghur region.
Around the same time, the Battle of Mobei against the Xiongnu and the Han conquest of Gojoseon also occurred. All ended in Han victories.
King Daemusin succeeded in killing King Daeso in the battle, but lost the battle itself. Records say, “Angered by Daeso’s death, the people of Buyeo fought to the death and won.”
However, the following year, Goguryeo launched another war, and Buyeo, unable to recover from Daeso’s death, lost their horse-breeding lands.
So Muhul acquired the fine horses → stole the horses → and then seized the land for horse breeding using those very horses.
It’s a telling glimpse into early Goguryeo.
“Among men, Lu Bu; among horses, Red Hare” is so vividly phrased it feels like it came from Luo Guanzhong’s Romance of the Three Kingdoms, but it surprisingly appears in official history.
It’s from Chen Shou’s Records of the Three Kingdoms, later annotated by Pei Songzhi of the Liu Song Dynasty.