200
Gecheol's Trial — Testing the Waters
Morning in the Ssangseong Command dawned red.
Rumors that had drifted through the night slid along the stone paths and between the barracks.
"They say the Grand Princess Noguk has come."
"The one Empress Gi favored so dearly."
"They say she seeks reconciliation."
Gecheol stood on the battlements, hands resting on the railing.
His silver armor, darkened by old blood, lay dull against the light.
Without a word, he gazed out over the distant plain.
At its center, where firelight and song spread outward, a fortified camp breathed.
"A banquet," he muttered. "What a strange performance."
The corner of his mouth twisted.
A banquet that hid blades always ended in blood.
He had learned that long ago.
No—banquets themselves were never pure.
The Great Khan had soothed provincial governors with feasts,
while taking their kin as hostages.
A banquet was merely a tool, a means of holding men's hearts.
Beside him, the deputy commander Bayanbu bowed his head.
"Still, an imperial command is an imperial command."
"If the princess's lineage is genuine, we cannot lay hands on her lightly."
"That is precisely why I ask," Gecheol replied.
He folded his arms and paced, then stopped before the map hanging on the wall, tapping it with a finger.
"That place is a plain."
"One could hide thousands of troops there with little trace."
"They have shield walls, spear lines—even a watchtower."
"For something called a banquet, it is far too solid."
Bayan answered,
"They have built a fortress in the open field.
But it is still a field. How could it compare to these walls?"
Gecheol laughed softly.
Reconciliation and fortification never came together.
He lifted his long sword.
"Send the vanguard. Elite cavalry."
"A reconnaissance?"
"Yes. We test them again."
His voice fell low.
He wanted to see how much they would reveal,
how far they would endure without shedding blood.
After noon, the south gate opened.
The iron-reinforced doors groaned apart.
Through the gap, a hundred heavy cavalry rode out at a measured pace.
Red banners streamed above their heads.
Hooves thundered, dust billowed—
and the wind carried it straight toward the Signal Guard's camp.
At the center of the plain, Park Seong-jin stood atop the watchtower.
Steel glinted within the dust.
"Gecheol is testing us," Lee In-jung said.
"Yes."
"As expected."
"And the princess?"
"She is in her tent, drinking tea."
Park Seong-jin nodded.
The play had already begun.
He raised his hand in signal.
The camp shifted quietly.
Shields closed tighter.
The pits were smoothed over with earth.
From the outside, it looked like the peaceful edge of a feast.
Within, death pooled in silence.
A cavalryman shouted,
"Confirm the princess's encampment!"
They charged the perimeter.
Music carried.
Laughter scattered.
The smell of roasting meat drifted on the wind.
A few steps in, the ground collapsed.
A horse screamed as it fell into a pit.
The front rank toppled in succession.
Hidden stakes pierced flesh.
At that instant, the music stopped.
"Attack!"
At Park Seong-jin's cry, the shield wall split.
A storm of arrows fell.
The retreat was already sealed.
In moments, the elite were cut down.
Blood spread across the soil.
Park Seong-jin lifted his gaze to the battlements.
The red banner was whipping violently—
a signal of rage.
"Now the real one comes," Lee In-jung said.
"Yes. From here on."
From the princess's tent came the clear sound of a bell.
The second act of the war opened.
The Main Host Advances — Head-on Collision
The gates of Hwaju opened.
The grinding of iron scraped across the plain.
Banners unfurled from the walls.
Gecheol's standard rode the wind.
Warhorses poured through the gate.
Heavy cavalry at the front,
long-spearmen and archers behind,
officers at the rear, holding order.
Gecheol himself stood at the fore, clad in silver armor.
Bayanbu and the remnants of Yuan's elite guarded his flanks.
"Look at those lights," Gecheol sneered.
"They speak of peace while hiding blood."
"We answer with blood."
He urged his horse forward.
"Soldiers of Ssangseong!"
"Advance!"
The roar rolled across the plain.
A tide of iron surged toward the camp.
Park Seong-jin stood atop the central watchtower.
The enemy formation lay open before his eyes.
"Three thousand cavalry. He's committed everything."
"So have we."
He raised his hand.
"All units, hold."
The red banner leapt skyward.
The camp held its breath.
Shield walls overlapped.
Spear lines sank low.
Archers filled the gaps.
Cavalry spread to both wings.
Gecheol's vanguard charged.
The ground trembled.
Sparks flew.
"Fire."
Hundreds—thousands—of arrows rose into the sky.
The Goryeo troops remained calm,
sheltered behind great shields and fieldworks.
Tududududak—
the arrow storm fell, and the front ranks wavered.
Another volley.
Then another—
firing as they advanced, firing again as they withdrew.
Impatient, Gecheol ordered,
"Break through!"
The Ssangseong forces surged.
At that moment, the shield wall parted like a gate.
Long spears rose from the ground.
Charging horses and riders were skewered where they stood.
The earth opened.
Massive pits swallowed men and mounts alike.
Within, hidden blades and iron tore bodies apart.
Horses that struck the stakes reared and flung their riders.
The plain was a web of traps.
They could not even reach the inner circle where the three hundred stood.
"Archers, fire!"
At Park Seong-jin's signal,
Goryeo archers answered from behind wagons and shields.
At such close range, their arrows struck the instant they flew.
The enemy vanguard collapsed.
Gecheol bared his teeth.
"Is this your banquet?"
"Use fire," he shouted.
Siege crossbows roared.
Fire arrows flew.
Flames spread on the wind, pressing toward the main camp.
For a moment the lines shook—
horses panicked, formations wavered—
but the fires were extinguished at once, as if rehearsed.
"Vanguard, charge!"
At Lee In-jung's command,
the Signal Guard burst from the camp.
At their head was the warrior band.
Few in number, yet overwhelming in force,
they tore through those who came within reach.
The tactics were crushing,
but the enemy numbers were vast.
Charge and countercharge followed.
The trap field could not be crossed,
and time alone slipped away.
The battle dragged on until the sun began to sink.
Banners on the battlements tore and fell.
With each passing hour, Gecheol's forces dwindled.
The charge had been the fatal error.
He should have relied on distant fire—
yet Goryeo's heavy crossbows reached farther still.
From the princess's tent, the war drum sounded.
The entire formation moved to its pulse.
Park Seong-jin stood with sword in hand, his face soaked in blood.
Before him lay heaps of armored corpses.
"Now we see the end."
"Yes."
Then, through the smoke, a single horse burst forth.
Gecheol.
A mount cutting through flame.
The battlefield narrowed,
drawing toward a duel of men.
The sky burned red.
The earth drank blood.