I Became a Fallen Noble of Goguryeo

Chapter 26: To Pyeongyang

Before I knew it, winter had passed and spring had come again.

Many farmers were swelling with dreams, hoping to tend to their crops once more, but not everyone welcomed spring.

One such person was the current Supreme Chancellor, Wang Godeok.

"…It's over now."

Once the sowing season passed, a new Supreme Chancellor would be elected, and his term would truly end.

Would Yeon Jayu become the next Supreme Chancellor?

'Probably not.'

Rather than becoming Supreme Chancellor, Yeon Jayu would prefer the position of Prime Minister, which commanded Goguryeo’s military.

Unlike the Supreme Chancellor, who was elected by vote, the Prime Minister was appointed by the Grand King, so he had to worry less about currying favor with the nobles.

‘In that case, he’ll raise Go Heul, the current Prime Minister, to Supreme Chancellor and seize that seat for himself.’

Go Heul, the current Prime Minister, was once a famous general who led the northern campaign against the Turks to victory, so even the Domestic Fortress Faction held a certain respect for him.

If I were Yeon Jayu, I’d elevate Go Heul—who had the support of both Domestic and Pyeongyang Fortresses—to Supreme Chancellor, and then claim the Prime Minister’s seat for myself.

‘Besides, Go Heul is old and, unlike me, quite uninterested in politics. He’s the perfect figurehead to plant as Supreme Chancellor while seizing real power.’

Moreover, from the perspective of the Grand King, it was more likely he’d want the Prime Minister, whom he could appoint directly, to become the political center rather than the elected Supreme Chancellor.

‘Is this a new era?’

The age of the Wang Clan of Lelang was fading, and the era of the Yeon Clan of Eastern Buyeo was arriving.

Of course, I had sensed the end a long time ago.

On the day Princess Boknyeo married Ondal, Wang Godeok knew his time was over.

But is it not human nature to remain composed in the face of death, not because we don’t know it’s coming, but precisely because we do?

Wang Godeok’s mood was like the shimmering haze that drifted through the spring air—hazy and indistinct.

Especially so when the very man who brought about his downfall came to visit.

“I am Middle Elder of the Jungri Bureau, Yeon Jayu.”

“You mean Prime Minister Yeon Jayu.”

“Not yet, I’m not.”

“Heh, come in then.”

At those words, Yeon Jayu entered smoothly.

Wang Godeok looked sideways at Yeon Jayu, who had come to his office, and asked with a sneer.

“Why have you come? To mock a defeated man? Or are you here to preview the seat you’ll soon sit in?”

“Surely not. It’s neither.”

“Really? Then have you come to kneel and beg for forgiveness? Surely you must be regretting it by now—leaving me that day.”

Wang Godeok sneered.

“I heard things are already going awry with the Domestic Fortress Faction?”

“It’s regarding King Chumo’s seed lineage. It was a policy you created, Elder.”

“Do you plan to lie to my face now? Or do you truly believe those scoundrels defected over some trivial matter about wandering seeds in civilian homes?”

Yeon Jayu could not answer.

Wang Godeok laughed at him.

“The Domestic Fortress lot would’ve found an excuse to defect no matter what you did. That’s how they are. Have you forgotten the rebellion thirty years ago? Even then, they rose up claiming they’d replace the Crown Prince.”

“I was the one who suppressed it. However, there were many chances to avoid civil war. And likewise, to clean up afterward. Instead of punishing only the ringleaders, you chose to expel everyone associated with the Domestic Fortress Faction, regardless of blame. That’s why the rebellion expanded, and ten years later, it led to the Ganjuli Rebellion.”

“If you say I went too far, you’re right. There was definitely hatred. But it was hatred with reason. The Domestic Fortress Faction is a rot upon the nation.”

Wang Godeok continued.

“We officials take office and receive hereditary village allotments and salaries in return. But what about the Domestic Fortress lot?”

“They live as tax village lords.”

“Yes, those damned tax village lords.”

Tax villages and hereditary village allotments.

The two were similar in that they came with rights to collect tax and control the residents, but their nature was vastly different.

The hereditary allotment was given in return for holding office and was to be returned upon retirement.

But tax villages were passed down through generations.

“In early Goryeo, the king was weak and the high nobles strong. So the founding contributors were given tax villages as rewards. But after passing through King Sosurim and establishing a legal code, Goryeo no longer granted tax villages.

Still, they weren’t reclaimed. Since it was a previous king who granted them, they used that as their justification.”

Wang Godeok’s voice grew louder.

“Those parasites neither farm like the peasants nor are they recognized for their abilities like the Pyeongyang nobles. They do nothing, yet inherit tax villages because of their ‘great ancestors’, and leech off those lands to gain influence, then dare meddle in state affairs despite their incompetence.”

And even that meddling was usually just to protect the petty privileges of their own tax villages, not for the good of the entire country.

Wang Godeok truly believed that crushing the so-called Domestic Fortress Faction and reclaiming the tax villages was the dream of every Goguryeo citizen.

At this, Yeon Jayu finally spoke.

“At the very least, their military power remains impressive. And what happened after we drove them out?”

“That’s…”

“When the Turks invaded, General Go Heul led only ten thousand men—mostly fortress soldiers. In King Gwanggaeto’s time, the standing army alone was fifty thousand, but constant infighting wiped it out!”

As he invoked King Gwanggaeto, Yeon Jayu unconsciously shot to his feet.

“And what about when the Naje Alliance attacked? We had no soldiers left, so we conscripted artisans and lost the Han River in disgrace! Would such humiliation have happened if we hadn’t shed our own blood?”

“It was necessary pain.”

“If the Domestic Fortress Faction had helped, Wang Jun wouldn’t have cowered before the Sokmal Malgal. Was that too ‘necessary pain’?”

This time, Wang Godeok was left speechless.

Yeon Jayu sat back down with a subtle sense of triumph.

“For a warrior, cutting bone and tearing muscle through training is vital. But if done the day before battle, one cannot fight properly—how can that be commendable? The internal issues you speak of must be addressed only after dealing with external threats.”

“…Does His Majesty feel the same?”

“Yes. He saw his royal father and his half-brothers fight with swords as a child. Why would he want to repeat that horror of civil war?”

“He is too gentle, far too gentle.”

Wang Godeok sighed deeply.

“Yeon Jayu. Do you see yourself as a loyal subject? Yet loyalty and treachery are but one step apart. Always saying what the sovereign wants to hear is dangerous.”

“You call yourself a heavy minister, but the line between heavy minister and power-hungry minister is just as thin. Standing against the Grand King and leading your own faction isn’t any better.”

Wang Godeok poked, but Yeon Jayu brushed it off effortlessly.

“As I’ve said, the priority is uniting North and South to face the external threats. If we must shed blood, let it be to drive away the wolves who seek to feast on it.”

“So what you’re really saying is that war is imminent. I see now why the young men of Pyeongyang Fortress support you.”

The greatest weakness of the Pyeongyang Faction compared to the Domestic Fortress Faction was a lack of military achievements.

Unlike the Domestic Fortress Faction, which contributed to expansion since King Chumo’s era, the newly risen Pyeongyang Faction had money but little family history.

The young ones were desperate to overcome that.

However, their solo performance in the recent war against Silla proved the Pyeongyang Faction couldn’t wage war alone.

For war, they needed the Domestic Fortress Faction.

This war was precisely why Yeon Jayu could persuade the young standard-bearers of Pyeongyang Fortress to cooperate with the Domestic Fortress Faction.

“But there’s one thing missing from your argument.”

Wang Godeok asked.

“Do the Domestic Fortress bastards want war too?”

“…I doubt it.”

Unlike the new Pyeongyang Faction, the long-standing Domestic Fortress Faction already had more than enough family merit.

If another war broke out and the Pyeongyang Faction earned achievements, they would lose their advantage.

“Besides, you’ve already turned your back on the Domestic Fortress Faction. What now?”

“The war will break out regardless of whether we start it. As long as we build up the atmosphere, that’s enough. The Domestic Fortress Faction won’t initiate war, but once it begins, they’ll fight out of fear of losing merit.”

“That’s not the whole story, is it? Do you take me for a complete fool?”

In any normal country, no matter how great, such blunt words between two senior politicians would be unthinkable—but Wang Godeok was on his way out.

And old men who were leaving had nothing to lose.

He spoke plainly.

“You plan to use Ondal, don’t you?”

Ondal.

Just hearing that name filled Wang Godeok with countless thoughts.

The man who, by marrying Princess Boknyeo, ruined all his plans and threw his future into disarray.

“The king’s son-in-law, a member of the Domestic Fortress Faction. You probably plan to use him to manipulate them. Go Heul is getting old, and Ondal would be the perfect next candidate.”

“That is…”

“That bastard will attend the Heavenly Deity Rite too, I’m sure. You came here to tell me not to lay a hand on him, didn’t you?”

The Heavenly Deity Rite narrowly fell within Wang Godeok’s remaining term.

Wang Godeok smiled slyly.

“Well then, you should’ve bowed a little deeper. What’s the use in coming here, yelling and getting all fired up?”

“That’s…”

“Just as well. I might as well take a good look at his face. The one who ruined me—how absurd would it be to not even know what he looks like?”

The very image of a cantankerous old man in his final days.

If Wang Godeok decided to, he could quietly sabotage Ondal during the Heavenly Deity Rite without much effort.

For the first time, Yeon Jayu's face showed signs of confusion.

"…Are you really going to be like this until the end?"

"What am I doing?"

In that moment, Yeon Jayu was overwhelmed by the urge to chop Wang Godeok into pieces.

Had he done so, quartering might have become a tradition of the Yeon Clan, but unfortunately, Yeon Jayu wasn’t powerful enough for that—yet.

Unlike his grandson, who hadn't even been born yet, Yeon Jayu now didn't have the strength to pull such a thing off.

If he killed Wang Godeok now, his political career would be utterly destroyed.

"His Majesty bestowed grace upon you so you could end things well. That’s why you're still holding the title of Supreme Chancellor."

"That's right. He even gave me a job. A fitting one, at that."

"But now you're going to repay that kindness with personal revenge?"

"Revenge, you say?"

Wang Godeok spoke.

"I'm just saying I want to take a look at the guy’s face."

"Elder!"

"If it bothers you so much, go tell that Ondal brat to take the exam next year. Ah, you can’t, can you? This is the first time in decades the Domestic Fortress Faction is participating in the Selection Trials. Of course you want to rope them in early through Ondal."

"Elder, what do you gain from stirring up trouble here?"

"Beats me. What could I possibly gain?"

As Yeon Jayu trembled with frustration, Wang Godeok chuckled and patted his shoulder.

"Now off you go. I have plenty to do myself."

Such are the joys of one’s twilight years.

The 14th year of King Pyeongwon.

In the Western calendar, it was March, 572.

"This year’s Heavenly Deity Rite shall be held. Let the sons of Goryeo come forth and display their martial prowess!"

Under the solemn command of the Grand King, the Heavenly Deity Rite was declared, and I began preparing for departure.

"My lord. Just do as we prepared."

Boknyeo came out to greet me as I mounted Bucephalus.

She looked rather flustered.

Her face looked worn, and her hands were trembling as if she hadn’t slept at all.

I could sort of understand.

"Watch out for one Supreme Chancellor?"

That was what was written in Yeon Jayu's letter.

Honestly, all I could think was, "And what am I supposed to do about that?"

It wasn’t that the issue seemed trivial—it was that there was nothing I could do about it.

It wasn’t just a soldier—it was a Supreme Chancellor.

Even if he was an old tiger missing teeth, taking me down would still be easy.

If you think about it, how could a man beat a tiger just because it lost its fangs?

A toothless tiger doesn’t mean it’s weak—if anything, it might still mean "formidably strong."

"Besides, a retired Supreme Chancellor?"

Heavens, even the phrase sounded violent.

Even a retiring sergeant or junior lieutenant can be unpredictable, so what about a retiring Supreme Chancellor?

It gave me chills.

Was he like a lame-duck U.S. President?

Yeon Jayu did advise me that since Wang Godeok didn’t know my face well, and not many in Pyeongyang did either, it might be best to lie low.

Well, even in the 21st century, where facial recognition tech is everywhere, people still struggle to identify criminals from their photos—so in this era, it might actually work.

Still, it felt like a shaky plan.

"Even so, it’d be a shame to skip this year…."

This year’s Selection Trials were the first in nearly 30 years with participation from the Domestic Fortress Faction.

That meant all eyes would be on them—making it the best chance for a debut.

The top student from the Taehak was also expected this year, so it felt like a shame to miss it.

"Besides, the loophole Yeombu told me about probably won’t work any other year."

I weighed the risks and returns.

There was much to gain, and the only thing to lose was my life.

That might sound dramatic in the 21st century, but in Goguryeo, it wouldn't even raise eyebrows.

Here, risking your life wasn’t that big a deal.

Not because life was less precious or because people had three spare lives in their back pockets—but because there were hardly any tasks that didn’t involve risking your life.

Whether climbing a mountain or fighting off robbers—it all required staking your life.

So this time too, I ‘naturally’ risked my life.

Instead, Boknyeo was the one who couldn’t stay calm.

"Honestly, Wang Godeok may have said that, but it was probably just an old man’s nasty joke. He has no reason to act, and even if he does, Yeon Jayu and my father will stop him! B-But if you're still worried, do you want to go next year?"

"Boknyeo, calm down a little."

Only after I said that did Boknyeo manage to regain her composure.

As if she suddenly remembered something, she spoke.

"Then, uh, oh, right! Give me your hand."

Thump—

A small pouch landed in my palm.

"This is…"

"My skills are nowhere near my mother’s, but I figured I had to do at least this much."

Embroidered on the pouch was a slightly crooked bindweed flower.

"Open it."

"…Alright."

When I unfolded the inside, I saw fine white powder.

For a moment, I thought it might be glutinous rice cake powder like in university exams—but it wasn’t.

There was no rice cake inside—only white powder.

"It’s powdered willow bark. Use it if you get injured or find yourself in pain."

Willow bark, like hemp, was a common painkiller in this era.

It even appeared in the legend of Kim Yushin, and in records related to Admiral Yi Sun-sin a thousand years later—where he used willow twigs when he broke his leg during the military exam.

"And next to that is a mix of dried elm bark and centipede. It’s good for inflammation. Below that are garlic and mugwort. If your stomach feels queasy or you feel like worms are wriggling, chew and swallow three cloves on an empty stomach."

In short, Boknyeo had packed a handmade handkerchief with homemade aspirin, homemade disinfectant, and homemade antiparasitic meds.

"No wonder your hands had wounds—it was from the needlework. But aren’t you normally good at weaving and sewing?"

Women of Goryeo usually learned weaving from a young age.

It was a country where tribute was paid in cloth.

Princess Boknyeo, of course, had no taxes to pay, but she still had to be skilled in weaving to set an example for the court ladies.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder why her hands looked like that just from making one pouch.

Boknyeo answered.

"W-Well, we studied until sunset, didn’t we? I made this afterward, at night."

In other words, she sewed this relying on moonlight, without even lighting a fire.

If it had been her mother, who was trained in years of sewing, maybe it would’ve been fine—but if Boknyeo did it, no wonder the flower came out crooked and her hands got hurt.

"Do you… not like it? It’s okay to be honest. I mean, the flower is kind of lopsided…."

"Of course not."

I tucked the medicine-filled handkerchief into my robe.

The right thing to say in front of such a gift was clear.

"I won’t need to use this."

I won’t get hurt.

And—

"Then, I’ll be waiting for you in Pyeongyang."

I’ll definitely pass.

At those words, Boknyeo smiled.

"Yes. I’ll go ahead and wait. I’ll bring the cultivated ginseng and the books with me."

"Please do."

And with her farewell complete—

"Let’s go, Bucephalus!"

"Hiiiing—!"

I rode Bucephalus and set off toward Pyeongyang.

I felt like I could do anything.