The King’s Command
Inside the grand courtroom, a heavy silence clung to the air, broken only by the fading echo of King Man-Ju’s command. The court stood frozen, as though even breath itself required permission.
Minister Shin stepped forward, his composure strained despite years of discipline. “Your Highness, you wish for me to remain in the capital? What of the prince? Should I not be at his side?”
Though his voice remained respectful, a tremor betrayed his unease.
Seated upon his ornate throne, King Man-Ju regarded him with an unyielding gaze. “Your allegiance is to me, not to the prince. As my wartime minister, your duty is to safeguard the capital.”
The words fell like iron.
“But, Your Highness, the prince—your brother—will be left to bear the burden of war with only a handful of seasoned generals to guide him. He defends not only the borders, but the future of Chiongsun itself. He will require every resource we can offer.”
A murmur rippled faintly through the court before dying as quickly as it began.
Man-Ju leaned forward slightly, his expression sharpening. “Do I need to repeat myself, Minister? Or do you lack faith in your student’s abilities?”
The accusation struck deeper than any blade.
“This is not a matter of faith,” Minister Shin replied, bowing his head. “It is a matter of Chiongsun’s security. As King, Your Highness must weigh all fronts of this war.”
For a moment, the court held its breath.
Then, with a dismissive motion, King Man-Ju rose.
“This discussion is finished. You will remain in the capital. That is my command.”
Without another glance, he turned and departed, his robes trailing behind him like a closing curtain.
Minister Shin remained where he stood, fists clenched beneath his sleeves, the weight of helplessness settling heavily upon him.
Outside the palace gates, the air carried a different kind of tension.
“What? No! I refuse to stay behind. I’m coming with you.”
Jin-Ri’s voice cut through the courtyard, sharp with defiance. Her eyes burned with determination as she faced Young-Sik.
“You don’t understand, Jin-Ri. This is not a simple journey. I go to war—and in war, people lose their lives.”
“I don’t care if you’re going to the moon or oblivion. I won’t leave your side.”
Her voice wavered only slightly, but the tears gathering in her eyes spoke what her pride would not.
Young-Sik’s expression softened, though the burden he carried did not lessen. “Jin-Ri, please… do not make this more difficult than it already is. Return to my residence for now. I will come when I am able. Some preparations cannot wait.”
He turned before she could answer, his steps quick, almost urgent—as though hesitation might undo his resolve.
Jin-Ri stood rooted in place, watching him disappear into the distance.
Only when he was gone did the weight of his absence settle fully upon her.
Slowly, she turned, her path leading back toward the prince’s residence, though her thoughts lingered far behind.
At the pavilion, Ministers Im and Go stood overlooking the palace grounds, their conversation subdued, their expressions troubled.
They fell silent as Minister Shin approached.
“You seem burdened, my friend,” Minister Go said. “What has His Majesty decreed?”
Minister Shin did not answer at once. Instead, he exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself.
“The King has commanded me to remain in the capital… to ensure his safety.”
The words struck like a sudden storm.
“What?” Minister Im stepped forward, disbelief plain upon his face. “Then what of the prince? He stands on the brink of war against a hardened enemy, with officers who have yet to prove themselves!”
Minister Go’s expression darkened. “The prince has led skirmishes, yes—but nothing of this scale. This decision… it borders on recklessness.”
Silence lingered, heavy with unspoken fears.
At last, Minister Shin spoke again, though his voice was quieter now.
“We have trained him well. He possesses both mind and resolve. This… may be the trial that shapes him into the leader Chiongsun requires.”
“But what if he falters?” Minister Im pressed. “A single misstep in war does not allow for correction.”
Minister Go folded his arms. “Then we must act where we still can. The truth of the King’s death must remain hidden—for now. If we cannot aid the prince directly, we must not burden him further.”
Minister Im nodded slowly. “Tomorrow, I will raise the matter before the court. The prince must not go to war without the guidance of our most experienced generals.”
“And we will stand with you,” Minister Shin said.
Though their resolve was firm, unease lingered beneath it.
For they all understood—some battles were not fought with swords, but within the walls of the court itself.
