Remaining at Hwajou — Park Seongjin
After the procession departed, Hwajou fell quiet.
The fires of Ssangseong had gone out, yet the smell of ash and blood lingered deep within the city.
From rain-darkened flagstones and the cracks of collapsed walls, the breath of war seeped out slowly.
Park Seongjin stood atop the ramparts.
A harsh wind blew down from the north.
It carried traces of Yuan—
a briny tang, and the residue of long-held power.
Beside him stood Nangjang Jonghui.
"The general has departed."
"Yes. Now it is our turn to remain."
Jonghui narrowed his eyes and looked down over the plain.
Below the walls lay the debris of war:
shattered helmets, charred pillars, arrowheads not yet gathered.
He exhaled slowly.
"The fighting is over. Now the work begins."
"The battle is finished. We are soldiers—battle ends, labor begins."
Jonghui let out a low laugh.
"What do you think will happen next?"
Park Seongjin gathered his words before answering.
"The Great Khan has acknowledged it by state decree.
The Grand Princess is remarkable indeed.
But the Empress Gi will respond differently—this concerns her elder brother.
Judging by precedent, she is not one who places the greater cause above all else.
There will be resistance.
I cannot say what form it will take, but this will not end here.
We must prepare for what follows."
He looked beyond the walls and added,
"No matter how firmly legitimacy is built, before blood ties, feeling moves first.
There will be backlash.
That is precisely why we are here."
His voice was low, steady.
"Law and diplomacy belong to the court.
Politics is the king's judgment.
Our task is military pressure and readiness."
Nangjang* Jonghui nodded.
*Nangjang (Junior 6th Rank):
A mid-level military officer responsible for the practical operation of units under a Jungnangjang.
A total of 222 Nangjang were appointed, each serving as a commanding officer over a yeong-level unit.
That evening, the warrior band cleared an open space within Hwajou Castle and set up a temporary camp.
Fires were lit.
The soldiers worked in silence, tending spears and armor.
There was occasional laughter, but caution always lay beneath it.
After battle, tension usually loosens.
Here, it tightened instead.
From this point on, everything began.
Park Seongjin gathered the soldiers and spoke plainly.
"Do not touch the people of Hwajou.
No plundering.
From now on, this is not fighting but governance.
Do your utmost for the people.
Yesterday's enemy is today's subject of this land.
Make no distinctions."
He then summoned the leaders of the warrior band and issued further orders.
"Rebuild the walls—our way.
Fill in the horse pits.
Refit the defenses in the Goryeo style.
Prepare to hold this place for one year—no, for three."
One of the warriors asked carefully,
"Is this not still the border of the Yuan?"
Park Seongjin nodded.
"It is.
But now, it is our land.
This is the frontier with the empire.
When Liaoyang is stabilized, the boundary will move west."
He continued,
"But from today, everything changes.
Depending on how we act, this land will become Goryeo—
or it may tilt back toward the empire."
Night fell, and one by one, lanterns were lit within the city.
The offices once used by Gicheol were already gone.
In their place, a new banner was raised—
a red field crossed by a blue stripe:
the emblem of the Signal Guard.
The soldiers raised it with care.
Park Seongjin stood beneath it and bowed his head briefly.
"This land was taken with blood," he said, almost to himself.
He leaned an old spear against the wall and looked toward the southern sky.
Yi In-jung's procession had long since vanished beyond sight.
He continued silently,
"We have remained here.
The war is over—but here, every day is another battle."
The wind stirred, and the lanterns swayed.
Within that wind, Hwajou's new time began to move—quietly.
Remaining in Hwaju — Park Seongjin
After the procession departed, Hwaju fell quiet.
The flames of Ssangseong had gone out, yet the smell of ash and blood lingered deep within the fortress.
From rain-soaked stone pavements and the gaps of collapsed walls, the breath of war slowly seeped back into the air.
Park Seongjin stood atop the ramparts.
A harsh wind blew down from the north.
It carried with it the traces of Yuan—
a briny stench, and the residue of an old, fading authority.
At his side stood Nangjang Jonghui.
"The general has departed," Jonghui said.
"Yes. That leaves us," Seongjin replied.
Jonghui narrowed his eyes and looked out over the plain.
Below the walls lay the remnants of battle: shattered helmets, charred pillars, arrowheads not yet gathered or buried.
He let out a long breath.
"The fighting is over. Now the work begins."
"The battle is finished," Seongjin said.
"We are soldiers. Battle ends—labor begins."
Jonghui gave a low laugh.
"What do you think will happen next?"
Seongjin paused, choosing his words.
"The Qaghan has acknowledged it by state letter.
Her Highness the Grand Princess is truly formidable.
But the Empress will not see it the same way.
This concerns her brother.
Judging by precedent, she is not one who places great righteousness above blood.
There will be resistance.
I do not know in what form—but this will not end here.
We must be prepared to face it."
He looked beyond the walls and added,
"No matter how solidly justice is built, emotion moves first before kinship.
There will be backlash.
That is precisely why we are here."
His voice was low and firm.
"Law and diplomacy belong to the court.
Politics rests on the king's judgment.
We are responsible for military pressure and preparedness."
Nangjang Jonghui nodded.
* Nangjang (Junior 6th Rank):
A mid-level military officer under a Jungnangjang, responsible for practical unit operations.
A total of 222 Nangjang were appointed, each commanding a yeong-level unit.
That evening, the warrior band cleared an open space within Hwaju Fortress and established a temporary encampment.
Fires were lit.
Soldiers worked in silence, tending spears and armor.
Laughter surfaced now and then, but it was always edged with vigilance.
After battle, tension usually loosens.
Here, it tightened.
This was where it truly began.
Park Seongjin gathered the soldiers and spoke plainly.
"Do not lay a hand on the people of Hwaju.
No looting.
From now on, this is not fighting—it is governance.
Serve the people with all you have.
Yesterday's enemy is today a subject of this land.
Do not discriminate."
He then summoned the leaders of the warrior band and issued further orders.
"Rebuild the walls—our way.
Fill in the horse pits.
Refit the defenses according to Goryeo methods.
Prepare to hold this place for one year—no, three."
One warrior asked cautiously,
"Is this not still the Yuan frontier?"
Seongjin nodded.
"It is—for now.
But it is our land.
This is the boundary with the empire.
Once Liaoyang stabilizes, the boundary will move west."
He continued,
"From today onward, everything changes.
How we act will determine whether this land becomes Goryeo—
or tilts back toward the empire."
As night fell, lanterns lit one by one within the fortress.
The offices once used by Gicheol were gone.
In their place, a new banner was raised—
a red field crossed by a blue line,
the emblem of the Signal Guard.
Soldiers carefully hoisted the banner.
Park Seongjin stood beneath it and bowed his head briefly.
"This is land won by blood,"
he said, almost to himself.
He leaned an old spear against the wall and looked toward the southern sky.
Lee In-jung's procession had long vanished from sight.
He continued inwardly,
"We remain here.
The fighting is over—
but here, every day is another battle."
The wind stirred, and the lanterns swayed.
Within that wind, a new time for Hwaju began to move—quietly.
The Beginning of Governance in Hwaju
Land, Census, and Military Reorganization
Morning in Hwaju began in silence.
Several days had passed since the war ended, and no drums or battle cries echoed within the walls.
Instead came the sounds of documents passing hands, of chests opening, of brushes scratching across paper.
Park Seongjin established a temporary office on the site of the former Ssangseong Governorate.
Burned pillars were cleared away.
A wooden desk was placed atop the remaining stone platform.
It was unadorned, but it had become the center of Hwaju.
The first matter was land.
All land deeds sealed with Yuan authority were collected.
Fields nominally designated as military or corvée land—
lands written as governorate holdings but in truth the private estates of Gicheol—were laid out one by one.
"Who has worked this land?" Seongjin asked.
A clerk answered,
"Mostly the native people of Hwaju.
Families who have lived here for generations, paying grain and labor to the governorate."
"Then this land belongs to the people."
Seongjin ordered,
"Invalidate all Yuan-sealed deeds.
Create new Goryeo land registers.
Register by cultivator.
Adjust military service and taxation in stages."
Land was life.
Setting that order straight was the first step of rule.
Second came the census.
The Ssangseong registers were in chaos.
The dead were still listed; the departed still counted.
They did not value people.
Human lives were treated lightly.
Many had become refugees; some fled into the mountains.
Seongjin summoned the men and elders of Hwaju.
"There is no reason to hide.
Write your names now.
State where you live, whom you support, and the land you work."
At first, silence held.
But after a day, then another, people began to come.
Some returned upon hearing that Goryeo had reclaimed the land.
Some came holding children's hands.
Others brought old documents proving their ties to the soil.
A census was not merely a list.
It was a promise of protection—
and a standard of responsibility.
And the beginning of obligation.
Third came military administration.
Remnants of Yuan troops still remained in Hwaju—
those who had surrendered, those who drifted back, those who could not lay down arms after losing their livelihoods.
Seongjin assembled them all.
"From now on, there is one choice.
Lay down your weapons and return to farming,
or follow the discipline of the Goryeo army.
Those who surrender will not be punished.
But if you take up arms again, you will be judged by military law."
Some of the Yuan soldiers laid down their weapons.
Others were incorporated under the Signal Guard's discipline.
Jonghui reported—though the higher-ranking officer, he treated Seongjin with full respect.
"The garrison within the walls is stable.
There are no signs of raids or unrest."
"Good," Seongjin said, nodding.
"Hwaju is no longer a battlefield.
It is the foremost frontier."
He climbed the walls one last time.
New defensive lines and reorganized watch posts lay clearly below.
War had ended in a single day.
Governance demanded effort every day.
Slowly, quietly,
Hwaju began to enter once more into the order of Goryeo.