#and then mu-yeong bc i am still not over that

[sandu-zidian]

At some point i’m gonna make fanart of Kingdom istg. Like it will happen. It will happen.

[unpeumacabre]

my kingdom for a horse: chapter 1

the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.

a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting)

Count: 7k

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A/N: ummmmm so basically i wanted to rewrite kingdom... with a yeong-shin/lee chang twist... and it turned out as a massive lee chang character study lol. the plot borrows elements from the drama but is quite different - i wanted to bring out certain aspects of the characters and tone down on some of them a little more. the story is mostly complete, i'm just in the midst of editing, so updates will be weekly. enjoy~

Survive.

Lee Chang gathers the reins of his horse in his hands, and looks out towards the horizon. The sun is waning, and Mu-yeong is complaining about the flies, and Lee Chang still feels the heat of anger and injustice scorching his skin.

He had been there when the King had sent the messenger to Dongnae – a routine check it had been, nothing more. Apparently, Cho Hak-ju and his spies had heard murmurs of a rebellion in the South, and he had whispered his foul poison into the King’s ear, convincing him to send a messenger to Dongnae to put the magistrate on his guard.

Lee Chang had also been there when the messenger’s horse had returned, bereft of its rider, and bereft of its message.

“Why not send the Prince to investigate?” had been Cho Hak-ju’s answer. “We must send someone reliable this time, someone who will not shirk his mission. And the Prince must have been so bored of late. There is little to occupy his scholarly mind in recent days, what with everyone being occupied preparing for the new prince’s birth.”

“Why not send Beom-il? Surely your son is more experienced than I am at these matters,” Lee Chang had answered, and he had felt the strain of his smile stretch tight against his cheekbones.

“Of course, but Beom-il is indisposed at the moment. He has been sent to oversee the setting up of the new regiment at Haeju, and will not return for a few days more.”

He was an odious snake, he was, Lee Chang thought bitterly, but still the King had acquiesced.

His only modicum of hope lay in the words the King had said to him that night, as they took their private dinner together – a rarity, now that most of his time was occupied with the queen and her increasingly-rounded belly.

“It pains me to say this, but…” the King had picked at his food. “There is something brewing in the south, although I do not believe it to be the rebellion that Lord Cho is suggesting.”

Lee Chang personally thought there was nothing in it, but then again, he didn’t have the extensive network of spies the King and Cho Hak-ju seemed to have. He could not – and probably never will – understand how one can trust men who live in the shadows and trade secrets – and lives – for their livelihood. Perhaps it would not make him a good king, but Lee Chang wanted to believe that it would make him a better one instead.

“I want you to investigate what the Haewon Cho clan is up to in the south,” the King had then said, and Lee Chang had almost fallen from his seat.

“Father, why?” he had asked, a perfectly reasonable question. He well remembered the times in his youth when Cho Hak-ju had said something insulting to him or done something to side-line him, something so serious that he had felt the need to go to the King for recompense. Every single time, he could recall being brushed off and told “Lord Cho thinks only of the good of the nation” and “you would do well to heed his teachings”. Never had the King shown even a hint of resentment or suspicion of the Haewon Cho clan’s leader, and Lee Chang had always thought his trust in Cho Hak-ju unshakeable.

Not so unshakeable, it seemed. A shadow had crossed the King's face then, and he had turned away as if to hide his face.

“I did not believe it when first the Head of the Royal Commandery brought it to my attention,” the King had said then, “but Cho Beom-il has been implicated in several – well, shall we say, unsavoury deals, and Lord Min’s investigations point to Lord Cho at their head. But he has been very careful to cover his tracks, and the evidence is, while convincing, mostly circumstantial.”

Lee Chang had taken a sip of his wine, his throat suddenly dry. “And of my role in all this?” he had managed. “Why send me? Surely by doing so we are playing precisely into Lord Cho’s hands.”

“I do not yet know what he plans,” the King had replied, shaking his head. “All I have are ominous tidings from my spies in Sangju and Dongnae that there is something nefarious being planned, but Lord Cho – if it is indeed he behind it – is an intelligent man. He has not yet let anything slip. If we must play into his hands, at least for now, just know that you go as my envoy, my emissary, and not the messenger boy of the Haewon Cho clan. I trust only my son to carry this through for me.”

“I wish to see my son, and I miss my wife,” Mu-yeong complains, and it snaps Lee Chang back to reality. He huffs out an exasperated laugh at the familiar refrain.

“At least she will be well-taken care of while you are gone,” he says, letting the amusement thread through his voice. “Where did you say she was staying while you are with me?”

“With her aunt, in Naesonjae. Her brother has found work in the queen’s palace, so they have enough money to put her up at least until I return,” Mu-yeong answers, and punctuates his answer with an enormous, put-upon sigh.

“That is good,” Lee Chang says absently. “At least you need not steal desserts from my table any longer to feed her.”

“Your Highness – you said you wouldn’t - ” splutters Mu-yeong, his face turning beet red, as he spins around in his horse to check on the entourage of three guards following them. Thankfully for him, they are bickering among themselves about something inconsequential, and Lee Chang dismisses them as not having heard anything.

“We must find somewhere to make camp soon,” he decides, looking back towards the horizon, and the sun’s fading rays colouring it red.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong replies, and he slows his horse to tell the guards.

Very quickly, they find a clearing in which to make camp, and Lee Chang grooms his horse while the guards and Mu-yeong start the fire. When the fire is sufficiently large, he sits by it and unwraps the jangguk mandu prepared for him that morning by his chefs. The smell of pork and kimchi wafts like sweet perfume from the wrappings, and he catches the guards looking at him enviously from the corner of their eyes, as they dig into their mieum. The gruel splatters over the grass as they eat.

One of the guards’ voices drifts over to him on the wind. “Royals are lucky,” he says, a thread of envy in his voice. “Jangguk mandu and tteokguk for dinner. What I would do for some meat.”

“Hush,” Mu-yeong says, glancing over at Lee Chang, but he pretends not to hear their conversation, and Mu-yeong returns his attention to the guards, reassured. “You know meat is a luxury us peasants cannot afford, especially in these trying times.”

“Yeah? You’d think the royals and the lords don’t know of the ongoing famine. The other day, I was on guard for Lord Park, and he left a whole dish of goldongban untouched. Untouched!” There is a collective groan from the group.

“What I wouldn’t do for some beef and eggs,” agrees one of the others, fervently.

“My mother died of illness last month. She wasted away,” comes the quiet voice of the last guard. “And when you think of all the food that’s left on the royals’ tables…” He shakes his head, and fumbles in his pockets. “I only have my daughter and my dear wife left, and the little girl’s so much like her grandmother. Worries about me all the time. She made me this talisman to keep me safe.” He displays the charm, and Lee Chang can vaguely see the childish drawings on the blue fabric, accompanied by words he is too far away to read.

He looks down at his mandu. Suddenly, the dumplings no longer seem as inviting.

Lee Chang thinks of offering them his food, then. Thinks of unwrapping the rest of the packages tethered to his horse, and sharing the food among the guards, because, if he’s honest, there was far too much food packed for him alone.

But something holds him back. Pride, perhaps, or irrational fear, that they will hate him even more for what they might construe as his pity.

And now it is too late. Before he could come to a a decision, the guards had finished their food, and now they are standing up, stretching, and sorting out the watch schedule. Mu-yeong comes over to him and notices his untouched meal.

“You must eat, Your Highness,” he urges, his tone teasing.

But when Lee Chang turns his face up to face him, Mu-yeong must see something in his face, for he squats down, his eyes turning liquid and understanding.

“Your Highness is different from the rest of the nobles,” he murmurs, under his breath so the other guards do not hear. “You did not execute my family when you caught me stealing from your table to provide for my wife. You did not execute the maid when she ruined your second-best coat with her shoddy washing skills. You did not execute the chef when he cooked you kongguksu for dinner, forgetting soy beans give you sleepless nights. That mercy is far above what any other noble is capable of – ah, now, don’t blush, Your Highness – you know it to be true! Don’t be embarrassed.”

Lee Chang scoffs and turns away. “Be quiet, or I shall execute your whole family,” he mutters under his breath.

“Isn’t it about time you stopped joking about that?” Mu-yeong cries, aghast. “Such a threat from the Crown Prince holds more weight than you think!”

Lee Chang glares at him out of the corner of his eye, then sighs, and turns his attention away. He begins unpacking the linens with which he is to make his bed, and tries not to smile; but he is sure the way his lips twitch, gives him away.

Satisfied that he has restored his prince’s spirits, Mu-yeong returns to the rest of the guards, who have been watching their exchange with some curiosity. Lee Chang strains to hear their conversation as they welcome his guard back to their side with a comradely clap to the back, but it is late, and the hard riding of the morning has driven all the energy from his bones.

The ground is hard against his back, and it is with the unhappy feeling of rocks digging pinpricks of pain into his skin, that he finally drifts into a restless slumber.

***

He is in the King’s study, staring at the irworobongdo behind the King’s desk and thinking to himself, “I will never be king.”

The King’s great-grandfather, his great-great-grandfather, had had the folding screens installed behind his desk in his room in Gyeongbokgung Palace during his reign, to emulate the irworobongdo behind the royal throne where he held court. Lee Chang had been told by his nurse as a boy that the former King, his great-great-grandfather, had used the paintings to intimidate whoever was unlucky enough to be called to his study for an audience. After the Second War of Jeong-yu, three years ago, Gyeongbokgung had been razed to ashes, they had moved here into Changdeokgung as the main palace, and the current King had decided to adopt the same practice as his great-grandfather.

It makes a majestic sight for sure, the five peaks rising above the head of the King, flanked by the two moons, conifers, and streams running down from the mountains. Lee Chang had often been called here in his youth, and one of his earliest – and most vivid – memories is of standing before the King, only nine years old, on his knees and crying. He remembers having been summoned for some small prank he had played on one of the guards. He remembers the King’s back, tall and stately, looming above him, his arms crossed behind him, and his voice: “You are the Crown Prince, Lee Chang. Such childish frivolities are beneath you. You must always act with the maturity and dignity required of your station.”

Yet he cannot remember the King’s face.

So now, he fixes his gaze blankly on the third and middle peak of the irworobongdo, as the King strides leisurely across the room, watching him.

“Did you hear me, Chang?” he says, and his voice is quiet.

“Yes,” Lee Chang manages. “That is wonderful news. You have informed the ministers, then? That Her Highness is with child?”

“Yes, yes,” the King replies, waving his hand airily. “They have given their best wishes, of course. I am sure he will be a beautiful baby boy.”

Or a girl, Lee Chang’s mind whispers, but somehow he knows in his bones that it will be a boy. Cho Hak-ju is not known for his errors.

The King is still watching him. Lee Chang does not know what he is expecting to see.

Then he turns his head away, sighs, and gestures imperiously towards Lee Chang, beckoning him forward. Lee Chang steps forward and kneels at the King's feet. He feels like that nine-year-old child all over again; but the difference is that, in the years between then and now, he has learned not to cry.

“Chang,” the King says, and Lee Chang feels a hand in his hair, a gentle touch which catches him by surprise. “You have survived, as I commanded you to. And you are all that a father can ever ask for. All that a nation can ask for in its prince. When this child comes, you will no longer be destined to be king. But you will still be a prince, and that is all that matters.”

“Is it?” Lee Chang whispers. “I have been brought up to be a king, with the expectation that one day, it was to be I who would sit on the Phoenix Throne and command the kingdom of Joseon. And now I realise that all that will have been for nothing.”

The King sighs again. “Not for nothing,” he amends. “Your brother will need you as he grows. You are experienced both in scholarship and military command. Do not dismiss yourself so easily.” The hand in his hair disappears, and Lee Chang finds himself strangely bereft.

When next he looks up again, the King is sitting at his desk, reading. The third peak glimmers in the light of his lamp, directly above his head. Lee Chang takes it as a dismissal.

“Chang,” the King says, as Lee Chang turns to leave. He turns back to face him, and the King’s eyes are molten gold.

“Remember,” he says. “Survive.” And he opens his mouth, and emits a piercing scream.

Lee Chang is jolted from his slumber and scrambles for the handle of his sword. He whips around and the blade points directly at Mu-yeong’s throat.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong gasps, his hand still on Lee Chang’s shoulder, where he has clearly been trying to rouse Lee Chang from his sleep. “We are under attack!”

Lee Chang’s mind immediately flies to Cho Hak-ju’s miserable face, but he quickly dismisses the notion. There is hardly any legitimate reason Cho can find to hunt him down, after all – Lee Chang’s plans had not been ready to set in motion before he had left the capital.

“By who?” he roars, instead. “Who dares attack – “ He is cut off by another piercing yell, this time of pain, and he turns in time to see one of the guards fall to the ground, a man covered in bloody rags clinging to his throat.

Immediately he leaps forward and buries his blade in the back of the attacker. The blow is harsh, and carves a deep line to the bone. The man jerks and convulses, falling off the guard and rolling onto the ground. Lee Chang is repulsed to see that his face is covered in blood, and that his teeth had been buried in the guard’s throat.

Quickly he bends down and shakes the guard. “Are you alright?” he asks roughly, scanning the wound. It is a bad bite, it is, and the attacker had torn out a good chunk of flesh when he had fallen off the body. It needs bandaging, and so Lee Chang rips off a piece of cloth from the hem of his coat. He pulls the fabric around the guard’s neck, making sure not to pull it too tight and obstruct his breathing, then he ties it off with a quick bow.

It is only Mu-yeong’s reflexes which save him from certain death, in those next few moments.

The man who had been lying on the ground – who had clearly been dead, no one could survive such a blow and live – had sprung up from his supine position and leapt for Lee Chang’s throat. He is too slow to react, and when he turns, the man’s breath is hot on his neck, in the instant before Mu-yeong’s blade whistles past him and separates the attacker’s head from his body.

Lee Chang falls back in disbelief, his bottom hitting the ground, and stares unseeingly at the head on the ground, its teeth bared in a foul approximation of a smile.

“How?” he asks, blankly. “He was dead. I buried my blade in his back myself. I severed his spinal cord. He should be dead.”

Another scream of pain attracts his attention, and he looks away in time to see the other two guards fall, and descended upon by more raggedy attackers. Lee Chang feels his stomach roil as he realises one of the smaller figures among the pack, is that of a child. His hand flies to the handle of his sword, and he is about to rise to his feet and run to the rescue, when he feels the body under his other hand begin to tremble.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says warningly, but Lee Chang hardly needs his words to recognise the mottled colour spreading across the downed guard’s face, and the milky film descending over his eyes. He recognises that face, for he has seen it just moments before – on the head that is now sitting, eyes unseeing, among the blood-stained blades of grass.

Purely on instinct, his body leaps back from the guard, and he watches in horror as the guard begins to writhe and shake, as if caught in a fit. His neck arches backwards, beyond what is humanely possible, and his mouth falls open, froth drooling from his jowls. It is the most terrible thing Lee Chang has ever seen.

“Are you alright?” he calls, urgently. No answer, as the man continues to fit.

Then, suddenly, eerily, he stops moving.

“We must get medical help for him,” Lee Chang says urgently, glancing up at Mu-yeong. “He is on the brink of death!”

But Mu-yeong is not looking at him. Lee Chang follows his gaze, and although his body is screaming at him to run, he finds he cannot move. The sight before him is so horrific, it is beyond anything in his worst nightmares.

The other two guards, with their throats torn out and blood gushing from numerous wounds all over their body, are also convulsing on the ground. One of them – the one who had been, only just last night, bemoaning his lack of meat and the royals’ frivolity – has had his eye torn out. The eyeball dangles, almost comically, from the empty cavity of his eye socket, except that there is nothing laughable about this situation at all. Lee Chang turns his head to the side and retches.

As he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, he hears Mu-yeong suck in a sharp breath. “Your Highness,” he says, and his voice is small. “Your Highness!” he repeats, this time louder, and with more urgency. Lee Chang lifts his head, and the group of attackers is looking straight at them.

“They see us,” hisses Mu-yeong frantically. “Your Highness, we must run!”

Lee Chang springs to his feet, but something catches his ankle in a vice-like grip, and he almost falls. He turns, and the body of the third guard – who he had thought stone-cold dead, after his fits! – has roused itself. He is leering up at him, teeth bared grotesquely, and its claws digging into the skin of his ankle.

He is no longer human, some primal instinct of his tells him, and so he does not hesitate.

Again, his blade strikes honest and true, and cuts deep into the body’s abdomen – a blow that would fell any normal man. But the body does not falter, and rears upwards, sword still buried in his stomach, intestines spewing out, his jaws gnashing and aiming straight towards Lee Chang’s face.

Lee Chang yanks the blade from its stomach with a motion that jars his shoulder, for how deep it is buried in the other man’s abdomen. The movement hoists the creature up towards him, and Lee Chang feels its fetid breath against his nose for one terrifying moment – makes contact with its sightless eyes for barely a second – before he swings and takes the body’s head off.

He can’t hear the thud of the head as it hits the ground, and belatedly he realises that the ground is shaking.

“Your Highness, we must flee! Now!” Mu-yeong yells, and grabs his shoulder. Lee Chang springs up and grabs his pack from the ground, where it is lying next to him.

And so they fly, the pursuers hot on their heels. Lee Chang has never run so fast in his life. He feels his heart beating a thousand miles an hour, thrumming through his ears, counting out the beat of his steps as they sprint over the dry grass and across the plain.

They are running too fast to stop, however, when they reach the cliff. There is barely a split second as they see the water loom before them, Mu-yeong looks at him, and his mouth forms an ‘o’ – Lee Chang would laugh, at the surrealism of the entire situation, if he weren’t working so hard to keep from breaking down. He says some words his wet nurse would have shook him upside down for.

And then they hit the water. The impact is like hitting a wall, and it drives all the air out of his lungs. He feels himself begin to sink, his heavy silk clothes quickly absorbing the water and lending him the weight of a stone, and the water bites cold frost into his skin.

Desperately, he kicks towards the surface, feeling his head throb with the pain of his lack of air. The moonlight is bright above the water’s surface, so near yet so far, as if the moon itself is taunting him. His limbs are a leaden weight, and he barely feels himself move. He cannot breathe.

Then suddenly he breaks the surface of the water with a gasp, and air – blessed air – rushes into his lungs. The cold air stings his reddened cheeks, and he already feels the ache of bruises beginning to form, from his intimate contact with the hard surface of the water.

“Mu-yeong!” he yells hoarsely, when he does not see the guard’s head. Moments later, the man breaks the surface, gasping and flailing, his sodden hair and clothes clinging miserably to his skin. Lee Chang knows he looks no better.

“They are too afraid to jump!” Mu-yeong calls to him, his voice bright with relief, pointing at the cliff’s edge. Indeed, the attackers are gathered above them, staring sombrely down at the two of them paddling in the water. There is one unlucky man who evidently was unable to slow his run, and is now clinging to the cliff face.

As they watch, he slips and plunges into the water. He does not come back up.

“It is a miracle,” Lee Chang says in disbelief. “They are afraid of the water.”

“Probably afraid of freezing to – well, death, if that’s even an appropriate word for them,” Mu-yeong says grimly. “And so will we, if we stay here much longer. The sun is rising, and I can see lights over there – there must be a village, or a camp of some sort. We must make for it before we freeze to death.”

With a nod of assent on Lee Chang’s part, they paddle dolefully to the opposite shore and haul themselves up. The wind is cruel and relentless, and Lee Chang feels his teeth begin to chatter. They lie prone on the ground, chests heaving in tune, arms spread akimbo, and staring unseeingly up at the beautiful night sky.

“C-c-c-curse this autumn wind,” cries Mu-yeong. “I am only thankful that it is not winter. We w-w-would be dead by now, if t-that were the case.”

Lee Chang laughs. But halfway through, it devolves into a sob, and he somehow finds the energy to sit up.

He barely makes it up before he feels his stomach revolt, and he throws up all over the ground. The remnants of meat in his vomit remind him of the chunks of flesh the creatures had torn off the guards’ bodies, and the memory makes him heave again. This time nothing comes up.

He turns, and Mu-yeong is shaking with quiet sobs, his jaw clenched and  his eyes blinking furiously as he tries to hold back tears. It is the first time Lee Chang has ever seen Mu-yeong cry.

“Mu-yeong.” Lee Chang calls his name, and the gentleness of his voice surprises even him. The guard turns to him, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and his fist stuffed in his mouth to block his sobs. Lee Chang tries to find the right things to say.

“They were good, honest men,” he says, at last. “I did not know them very long, but I could tell that they were good men. We will honour their memories and their bravery in the face of unholy evil.”

Mu-yeong chokes out a laugh, and it is an ugly sound. “They were bloody awful at times,” he says, casting his eyes away. “We always quarrelled. They begrudged me my role as your guard, and always teased me for only passing the exam in my forties, when they had done so in their youth.” He pauses to wipe at the sides of his eyes, and when he continues, his voice is quiet.

“But they were good men,” he says, and his voice is full of affection. “You are right, Your Highness. They were honest, and hardworking, and brave. They did not deserve the death they received.”

The sun is rising, and the heat of its rays takes the edge off the cold. Lee Chang tries to ignore the sour stench of his own vomit, and stares off into the horizon. Their attackers are no longer gathered at the cliff’s edge, from what he can make out.

“They were ungodly abominations,” he says lowly, recalling the dark patterns that had been spread across their faces and exposed skin, and the rotting flesh that had been falling off their bodies. “I do not know how it is that they were able to sustain blows that would kill any normal man, nor why they were feeding on human flesh. But they are still on the other side of the river, and I fear for the villages we passed on our way.”

“What will we do, Your Highness?” asks Mu-yeong, and some semblance of normality has been restored to his voice. “Do we still ride – well, walk to Dongnae?”

“Yes,” Lee Chang says decisively. “We must go to Dongnae, and light the signal fires to warn the other cities in the region. We do not know how many of these people are out there, nor what they want. It will be good to prepare everyone for an attack.

“And Mu-yeong?” he says, almost as an afterthought, but as quite an important one. He manages a small smile when the guard turns to face him.

“We will return for your friends’ bodies,” he murmurs softly. “Their bodies will not be left to rot, alone and with only the crows for company. We will return them to Hanyang, for an honourable burial, and for the peace of mind of their family.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says quietly, and he is about to say something else, when they are interrupted by a loud cacophony of clattering.

“Who are you, and what have you come for?” comes a voice from their right, and when Lee Chang turns, he comes face to face with the barrel of a musket.

It is a rough-looking man, smaller in stature but no less fierce for it. His hair is carelessly tossed into a bun, and sweaty strands of it stick to his tan skin. The bags under his eyes speak of countless sleepless nights, but still the hand that is holding the gun is steady and true. A pile of bamboo poles lies by him, the origin of the clattering sound.

“Put down your weapon!” Mu-yeong cries, and hefts his sword. The man spares him a glance out of the corner of his eyes. “Do you know who you dare lift your weapon against? This is the Crown Prince of the Joseon kingdom!”

The stranger’s brows shoot up, but apart from that, he does not move an inch, and the barrel of the musket is still pointed straight at Lee Chang’s face. Lee Chang feels himself begin to sweat.

“You did not answer the question,” he says quietly. “Why have the Crown Prince and his guard emerged from the banks of the Nakdong River, soaking wet and covered in gore?”

“We were attacked,” Lee Chang finds his voice. “By men who ate human flesh and did not balk at our blades in their back. Three of my other guards were felled by the attackers, and we had to flee into the river, which they dared not enter.”

There is a moment of silence, as the man stares at them, his eyes wide, and Lee Chang thinks he does not believe him. Honestly, were he the opposing party, he does not think he would believe his story either, outlandish as it seems – but every word of it is, unfortunately, the cold, hard truth.

“Then they did survive,” the man says abruptly, and his arm drops back to his side. Mu-yeong’s stance relaxes minutely, his blade still drawn, but the man pays him no mind and turns to the river.

“We must return to the other side,” he says urgently. “You must show me where the monsters descended on you.”

“Monsters?” splutters Mu-yeong. “What the hell – beg pardon, Your Highness – what do you mean by that?”

“Those men were dead,” the stranger says ruthlessly. “They frothed at the mouth and fitted to death, but at night they rise again and crave human flesh. They cannot be killed by normal means – only by fire, deep water, or beheading. And if we do not dispose of their bodies by tonight, they will return to kill once more.” He turns to them again, his eyes ablaze. “You must show me where they found you. They will be hiding from the sun, somewhere nearby, as they fear the daylight. We must burn their bodies as soon as possible.”

“We were on our way to Dongnae – “ starts Mu-yeong mulishly, but then he stops as Lee Chang holds up a hand to stop him. If, indeed, these men will rise again tonight to attack more unsuspecting folk… Lee Chang thinks, again, of the villages they had passed on the way, and the playful cries of children that had arisen from those settlements. He cannot let the innocent people in those villages die, not when he can prevent it.

“We will show you the way. Dongnae can wait.”

“Your Highness – “ Mu-yeong says sharply. “What reason do we have to trust this – this stranger? He could be lying. The story he tells – of the dead rising and killing for human flesh? It is a tale that is nigh on impossible.”

“You saw what we saw last night, Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says quietly. “I do not believe those men were human. Besides,” he says, with a weak smile, “I did promise you we would return to retrieve your friends’ bodies – although I did not expect that we would do it as soon as we are choosing to now. Dongnae can wait. If we find these bodies and destroy them, it will greatly thin the number of monsters out there.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong accedes. Although it is not without a final glare towards the back of the man, who is standing by the riverside a little ways away, glancing restlessly back at them as they make their decision.

He brings them to a bridge further down the road, where they cross to the other side of the river, and they retrace their steps in silence till they reach the remains of the campsite.

The ashes of the fire Mu-yeong had lit are still smoking, and the bodies – even those of the guards – are nowhere to be found.

“They must have carried their bodies off,” Mu-yeong mutters, in disgust. Lee Chang watches as the man squats down and examines the ground.

“Do you see any tracks?” he calls, as the man picks up a piece of dirt off the ground and sniffs at it. He spares Lee Chang a glance, then stands up and brushes his hands off on his trousers.

“They went northward,” he says shortly. “Into the forest. There must be some abandoned homes or buildings among the trees in which they can hide from the sun.”

Lee Chang nods, and gestures forward. “Lead the way then.”

They walk into the woods. The trees have shed their leaves and are bare and stark against the crisp autumn sunlight. Frost crunches under their feet as they walk, and the air is eerily still, undisturbed by the sounds of any animals. Lee Chang gathers his coat tighter around him, and subconsciously tightens his grip on the handle of his sword.

“There,” the man says, stopping suddenly, and he points at a ruined shack that lies a distance from them. They make their way over to it, and Mu-yeong tentatively opens the door. It creaks as it opens, and releases a cloud of dust that makes all of them cough.

Lee Chang steps in first, squinting into the darkness. He draws his sword, and the blade gleams dully. The floorboards groan under his feet as he walks, craning his neck to see further than one chok in front of his face.

There – there is a glimmer of something in the corner of the room, he thinks, and readies his sword for battle – then there is an almighty crash as the complaining floorboards finally give way, and he sinks downwards with a shout of surprise.

The landing is unexpectedly soft, and there is a sinking feeling in his stomach as he turns his head downwards to gaze at what has broken his fall.

Faces upon faces upon faces, bodies upon bodies upon bodies, curled up in grotesque positions under the boards. Their eyes are shut in a gross parody of sleep, but their chests do not move with breath. They are dead.

Mu-yeong hoists him from the ground, and utters a hoarse cry as he sees what Lee Chang has happened upon. The stranger is unfazed, however, and begins pulling up the floorboards.

“We must get all of them out, and make sure their heads are cut off before we bury them, so they do not rise again,” he orders. Lee Chang has a very brief argument with a voice in his head – one that sounds very much like the King’s voice - about the merits of following the orders of someone of a lesser station than himself, before he sternly tells himself off and squats down to help.

They manage to pull out all twenty-one bodies of their attackers, and Lee Chang is horrified to find out that he had been right – one of them had been a child, no older than ten years of age, with the same mottled pattern on his skin, and mouth painted with gore. He almost throws up again, then, but his stomach is protesting the lack of food, and thankfully he manages to push down the urge.

Mu-yeong finds the bodies of the guards, one headless and two others still intact. He drags the bodies and the head out and lays them sombrely in front of the porch, aside from the other bodies.

“I apologise, my friends,” he says, under his breath, so softly that Lee Chang knows the words are not meant for others to hear. “I would give you now a burial worthy of the most honourable of men, but alas, I cannot do so. I promise, I will retrieve your bodies and bring them back to your honourable families, so they can pay their respects to you as you deserve.”

The man comes up to him and stands by his side, looking at the bodies of the guards. Then, in a stern but kind voice, completely at odds with his manner so far, he says, “We must cut off their heads as well. Any man the monsters bite will turn into one of their kind.”

Mu-yeong looks torn, and splutters. “That is absurd. Whoever heard of such a thing? Your Highness,” he turns to Lee Chang, and while his voice is accusatory, his eyes are soft with anguish. “You do not believe him, do you?”

Lee Chang sighs, and inadvertently locks eyes with the man. His eyes are fierce, and hooded, but Lee Chang thinks they hold no lies – at least, with regards to his matter. He shakes his head in answer to Mu-yeong.

“We saw it for ourselves last night, Mu-yeong,” he says patiently. “One of them returned to life and attacked me, and the only way of ensuring he did not rise again, was by taking off his head. Think of this,” and he manages what he hopes is a comforting smile, “it would be the kindest thing to do, to stop them casting a blemish on their honourable record by killing more innocent people. They would have wanted you to do it.”

In answer, Mu-yeong bows his head, and nods. And later, when they are done beheading the rest of the monsters, he takes the heads off the guards himself.

“We must dig a pit to bury the bodies in,” the man says, coming out of the shack with tools in hand. He passes one shovel to Mu-yeong, then he looks at Lee Chang out of the corner of his eye, a question written clearly in his face. Mu-yeong’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to interject; but Lee Chang silences him with a look, and takes the shovel from the man.

About an hour passes as they dig into the frozen ground to create a large shallow pit – shallow because they can go no deeper with the rudimentary tools they have, and the hardness of the soil. It is backbreaking work, and even in the cold biting air, Lee Chang feels sweat beading on his brow. The numbness in his fingers and the weariness in his bones does not help.

When they are finished, they haul most of the bodies over to the pit and try, as carefully as possible, to arrange them inside. They were once human, after all, and every human, no matter how small in stature or station, deserved an honourable burial.

When it comes to the three guards, however, the stranger squats down by the bodies and rifles through their clothing. In a swift movement, Lee Chang strides over and has his blade at the man’s throat.

The man pauses in his movements, and looks up at Lee Chang. A swallow bobs his throat, but his eyes hold no fear, and the twist of his mouth belies his impatience.

“How dare you attempt to desecrate these men by looting from them,” Lee Chang whispers. “Is it not enough that their bodies have been so profanely defiled? Do you intend to rob them as well?”

“Your Highness,” the man replies, very calmly – too calmly, for all that he had a blade at his throat – “while you have been sitting in your golden palace, eating the food of the gods, we have been starving.” Very slowly, his hand comes up and grips the pommel of the sword, right next to Lee Chang’s hand. His eyes are dark, and full of resolve.

“The sick at Jiyulheon need food, or they will die by morning,” he says quietly. “Our stocks had already been depleted before the monsters appeared, and now, more than ever, we need food. Will you let the sick and injured at Jiyulheon starve to death, for your honour and morality? This is reality, Your Highness – the reality of us peasants’ lives. This is not the first time I have stolen from a dead body to live, and it will not be the last.”

Mu-yeong is oddly silent, Lee Chang thinks, dazedly. He is able to hold the man’s gaze for a moment – just a moment more - then he can bear it no longer, and has to avert his eyes.

The man coolly levers the sword away from his throat, and returns to searching quickly through the guards’ clothes. He finds a few packets of dried meat and other trail foods, and these he packs them away in his bag.

When he is done, he makes to drag the bodies into the pit, and a small blue square of fabric falls from one of the guards’ pockets. As Mu-yeong and the stranger lug the bodies away, Lee Chang bends over and retrieves the item.

The guard’s daughter has written on it, in shaky writing; Papa, it reads, pleas keep your self safe and pleas bring back some mandu for mommy. We love you! There is a doodle of a girl sitting on what appears to be some vaguely-four-legged animal, brandishing a sword, with her father seated behind her. Lee Chang finds he suddenly has to steady himself against the walls of the shack, as a lump finds its way to his throat.

“Your Highness,” Mu-yeong calls, and Lee Chang looks up with a start to realise that the other two have already hurried some way up the slight incline that had led to the shed, and are now looking back at him – Mu-yeong with puzzlement, the stranger with badly-concealed impatience.

“The sun is setting,” says the man. “I must return to Jiyulheon – they will need help with defence against whatever monsters are left from this pack.”

“We will come with you,” calls Lee Chang, on some impulse, as the man turns to leave. Lee Chang’s words makes him spin round, his faint brows riding high in surprise.

“Why?” he says, and the twist of his mouth reads of his suspicion. “I thought you were on your way to Dongnae?”

“Staying in Jiyulheon cannot be your permanent solution against an attack,” Lee Chang argues, walking quickly up to them; and from the way the man’s eyes darken, Lee Chang knows he has hit his mark. He steps closer to the man, and they lock gazes.

“We can help with your defence through the night, and when morning comes, we will find a way to bring the people of Jiyulheon to safety. I swear this upon my crown,” he says, solemnly, for the look in those burning eyes holds him to nothing but the truth.

“Can a prince run as fast as is needed?” says the man at last, tossing his head scornfully. A sudden flock of crows ascends above their heads, bringing with them a cacophony of cawing, and their shadow runs long. The sun is setting, and night is drawing near.

Lee Chang feels his resolve set. He tucks the talisman into his pocket, and gives the man a firm nod.

[unpeumacabre]

my kingdom for a horse: chapter 7

the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.

a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 8k

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“I recognise you,” came a voice from behind him, and he turned abruptly, his hand flying immediately to the knife hidden in his sleeve.

A man stood before him, clad in purple silk, rich and superfluous. An official’s hat shaded his face, but it did little to hide the gleeful smirk twisting his aristocratic mouth, and the fineness of his handsome features which somehow held both arrogance and cunning.

He could feel the tip of a blade pressing into the small of his back. Even if he were to draw his knife, it would not be in time to counter a fatal blow struck to his spine. The knowledge froze him in place.

“Three years ago,” the man said again, his voice sinuous and smooth. “You were one of the tiger-hunters, were you not? One of Ahn Hyeon’s fighting dogs. I am surprised to see you still alive, after the furore of the last battle.”

“What do you want,” he said, and his voice was rusty from disuse. It had been days since he had last spoken.

The stranger laughed, then, and the movement jabbed the tip of the blade further into his back. It was almost enough to draw blood, for his clothes were thin and weathered, and they offered little protection.

“What I want?” the man mused. “Ah, but it would not do to speak so openly. Shall we find somewhere quieter, with fewer prying eyes and ears?”

“I have no choice, do I?” he said bitterly.

“Oh, but of course you do,” the stranger taunted. “You can choose not to speak with me, of course – it is completely and utterly your choice. But then…” Here the man drew out the words, savouring the hold he had over his audience. “ Then you would not learn of the interesting news I have received in recent days. News of a little boy with a missing nose, who was picked up two days ago by the magistrate of Gongju for petty theft. Would you so easily miss this chance for news of your brother, Park Yeong-shin?”

Yeong-shin found he had no choice. He led the way to a quiet alcove he has often retreated to whenever he ate his meals, for it was unknown to many and easy to guard.

When they reached the alcove, the stranger sighed, and returned his sword to its sheath. It was a mark of his confidence in his abilities – and his blatant arrogance – that he failed to keep his weapon trained on Yeong-shin. It was a mistake many had made, and paid for, in the past.

It was only the knowledge the man held over his head, that stayed Yeong-shin’s own weapon.

“Now, where to start?” the man said slowly, pretending to stroke his short beard. “I have searched long and hard for you, as one of the last remaining chakho, and so you will excuse me if I seem a little – overexcited, at having finally found my man.”

“Tell me of the boy,” Yeong-shin said roughly. His nails dug so deep into his palm they drew blood.

“Yes, the boy,” the man murmured, that cold grin back on his face. “Of unknown birth, of unknown age, of unknown name – his only distinguishing characteristic being the lack of a nose. He is known to have made a living begging on the streets of Gongju and its surrounding townships – and petty thievery, as we now know. An offence punishable by death, for he was caught stealing a jade hairpin from no less that the wife of the magistrate herself. I seem to recall,” and now the man dropped his voice and stepped closer to Yeong-shin, “that you had a brother, did you not? Three years ago, during the war. A fine young boy he was – it was a terrible tragedy when the plague took his parents, and his nose. Such a shame.”

“Spare me your false pity,” Yeong-shin growled. “My brother died long ago.”

“But his body was never found, was it not?” the man said. There is a palpable silence.

“What do you want from me,” Yeong-shin said at last. “If it is money, I have none.”

“I do not need what paltry coin you have,” the stranger said dismissively. “I merely need your skills. There is a man who will start out to Dongnae in three days. You are to make sure he dies.”

“What man?” Yeong-shin asked.

“The Crown Prince, Lee Chang,” the man replied, and Yeong-shin felt his blood turn to ice.

“He will be guarded by many capable men. Surely you cannot expect me to be able to overcome them when they outnumber me – no matter my skills,” Yeong-shin said furiously. “It is impossible.”

“Trust me when I say that it will not be difficult to kill the prince,” the man said softly. “Circumstances will arise in which he will be left vulnerable – or he will die. Your job is to make sure he does die. Leave no one else alive.”

“What circumstances?”

“You will find out soon enough,” was the infuriating answer. “The prince will be travelling from Hanyang to Dongnae along the Namhan and Nakdong Rivers. Find him before he reaches Dongnae, and make sure he does not live.”

“Why would I risk my life to complete this mission when the boy may not even be my brother?” Yeong-shin said flatly.

“He may not be your brother, but he may be,” the man said, with another vulgar smile. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

He made a sudden movement, and pulled a musket out of his clothes. The gun was a terribly familiar weight in Yeong-shin’s hands as he caught it.

It was as if he had known that Yeong-shin would be unable to refuse.

Yeong-shin stared down at the barrel of the gun. He remembered Yeong-ryu’s face, and Yeong-ryu’s smile. His fingers tightened around the wood.

“Trust me, you’ll need that gun,” were the man’s parting words to him. “Remember, before Dongnae, Lee Chang must die.”

***

“Before Dongnae, Lee Chang must die,” ends Beom-il, and the smile that snakes across his face is triumphant.

Mu-yeong utters a roar of fury, and instantly he is at Yeong-shin’s side, his blade a hairsbreadth away from Yeong-shin’s throat. The sword trembles in his hand from the strength of his anger.

“Is – is what he says true?” Mu-yeong shouts, and it is a marvel that, even now, Mu-yeong – good, kind, strong Mu-yeong, who despite his wariness and cynicism has always treasured his brothers-in-arms – even now, Mu-yeong is giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Lee Chang feels the phantom touch of cold fingers creeping up his arm. He does not know what to feel.

He looks at Yeong-shin. Really looks at him, for what must be the first time, and there are things he sees, that he had not before noticed. How his eyes are shadowed with desperation, and how he carries the weight of death upon his shoulders – not the death of nameless, faceless soldiers and beasts, as Lee Chang had once thought, but possibly the death of a loved one. The death of someone who had mattered to him. The weight of loss. Lee Chang does not know how he had not seen it before.

If Yeong-shin were to betray them, he thinks, first Lee Chang would kill Beom-il. Yes, there would be enough time for him to reach Beom-il and slit his throat, with Yeong-shin kept at bay by Mu-yeong. Enough time for him to hurl Beom-il’s body at the monster-which-once-was-his-father. And then… and then he would…

Something chokes his throat at the thought of killing Yeong-shin, and he knows that Mu-yeong will have to be the one to deliver the killing blow.

“Is it true,” he says, at last, echoing Mu-yeong’s words. At the sound of his voice, Yeong-shin’s head jerks, and he meets Lee Chang’s gaze with his shuttered, hooded eyes – so familiar, and yet so foreign at the same time. The room is silent, and even Beom-il does not move, his eyes darting gleefully between the two of them.

Lee Chang searches the look in his eyes, and for the first time, he doubts his trust in Yeong-shin.

Then Beom-il decides to break the silence.

“Kill him,” he hisses, thrusting himself forward, uncaring of the blood drawn from the sword at his throat as he leans his weight towards Yeong-shin. “Remember your brother! I have hidden him away, and without me, it will be impossible to find him.”

Yeong-shin is silent, ignoring Beom-il’s words, and holding his gaze with Lee Chang.

“Remember, this man’s father killed your family – with a useless war,” Beom-il continues, pressing forward more, the spittle flying into Yeong-shin’s face, and a mad gleam alight in his eyes. “Your family need not have died, but they did, and all for what? For the pride of a monarch who cares not for his subjects. Will you let this same man’s son live when it is your people who have paid the price?!”

“He will not be the same king,” Yeong-shin says, and his voice is so quiet that, at first, Lee Chang thinks he has misheard.

“What?” Beom-il says, in disbelief. His expression mirrors that of everyone else’s in the room.

“He is not his father,” Yeong-shin says again, very softly, and tears his gaze from Lee Chang’s. Now he stares into Beom-il’s eyes, and the look in his own eyes is a familiar one.

“This man, I would serve with my life,” are his final words, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he tears open a gaping wound at Beom-il’s throat.

A terrible gurgling sound emits from Beom-il’s mouth, and his hands fly to the open gash, which now spills blood like a fountain. The redness of his blood stains the floor a deep, dark brown, and he collapses to the floor as his knees give way from the pain. He looks curiously diminished, a foul loathsome worm crawling on the ground, where he belongs.

“You – what - ” Mu-yeong splutters, having lost the power of speech in his shock. “But Beom-il - ”

“He was not my master, and he never was,” Yeong-shin answers quietly. His eyes are cast downwards, and the arm which had dealt the fatal blow hangs limply by his side.

Lee Chang lifts his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, and he finds that he is shaking. He clenches his fingers into a fist to stop the movement.

“What shall we do with him?” Yeong-shin asks, turning to Lee Chang. Something unfathomable passes across his face, lightning quick, as he sees Lee Chang. Lee Chang realises dimly that he must make quite the picture, staring at his one hand lifted and his fingernails digging into his palm.

It takes him a minute to recover his composure sufficiently to answer.

“Throw him to the monster,” he finally replies, and he lifts his eyes to meet Yeong-shin’s steady gaze. “The blow is a fatal one, and he will soon die even with medical help. He is of no use to us anymore. And,” he savours the words, “it would please me if his death were to involve as much suffering and agony as possible.”

“And what shall we do with His Majesty?” Mu-yeong asks, blinking rapidly, and looking agitatedly back and forth between Yeong-shin and Lee Chang. “What can we do?”

“I will kill him myself,” Lee Chang says, and the words surprise even him.

Survive, his father had said, but now Lee Chang understands the hidden layer to those words. Survive, at all costs, with no qualms. His father is dead, now, and nothing will bring him back. He must be killed for the safety of his companions, and for the safety of the people.

“But not now,” he amends. “We must have proof of the Haewon Cho clan’s misdeeds regarding these monsters – and no proof will be stronger than the king himself. We must find a way to restrain him, and keep him in my quarters until tomorrow, when we may present him to the officials. There is no time to waste, for the queen may already have given birth.”

Yeong-shin nods, and volunteers to look for rope with which to bind the former king. Lee Chang walks up to Beom-il, who is gasping and cursing with pain – with what remains of his vocal cords – and rolling around on the ground, clutching in vain at his throat as if to stem the flow of blood. Already his face is pale with blood loss, and his lips are blue, but still he tries desperately to crawl towards the doorway to make his escape.

Lee Chang supposes he can admire his drive to live, if anything. Lesser men would have given into death already by this time. But his unwilling admiration does not erase his hatred for the man – how can it?

Lee Chang steps close to Beom-il’s face, but does not touch him. He does not want to dirty his boots.

“I have seen things you cannot even imagine,” he whispers, and Beom-il turns enraged eyes upon him, his once-handsome face now a paltry semblance of its former self, distorted as it is by his hatred and agony.

“I have taken more lives than you can even count,” he continues. “Lives which were first taken by you and your father, lives wasted and spent as mindless creatures bent on human flesh. The Haewon Cho clan wishes to ascend to the throne? Ha!” He barks out a single peal of laughter, then abruptly sobers. He leans down, closer to Beom-il’s face, and the man cannot move, not when he is struggling on the last embers of his strength.

“I carry within me the blood of the House of Yi,” he whispers, “and I will not let you fell us at our roots.”

With that, he straightens, and with a mighty kick, propels Beom-il towards the monster-that-was-king. The creature falls upon the fresh blood with frightful gusto, and the sounds of bones breaking, teeth gnashing and Beom-il’s agonising screams causes all of them to turn away in disgust.

They maintain silence for a while, until Beom-il’s death rattles fade away, and they are left only with the sounds of the monster feasting on the bodies. Yeong-shin grimaces and looks at Mu-yeong. While the latter’s face plainly reads his unwillingness to ally himself with a man who had supposedly been working behind their backs for the enemy, he accedes to Yeong-shin’s stare with an explosive sigh.

They approach the monster with blades drawn and, in Yeong-shin’s case, ropes at the ready. Lee Chang steps backwards and checks the doors, just to make sure that their battle has not attracted any unwanted attention from the palace guards – which it has not. He nods his approval to them, and they begin the arduous process of tying the king down and restraining him.

It is not without a few quiet scuffles and a few near misses, but at last, the monster-that-was-king is restrained with a cloth bag over its head and his limbs tied firmly with the rope. It struggles furiously, and they have to put another bag over its head as it begins to chew through the rough hemp of the first. Thankfully, Yeong-shin’s knots hold, and the monster does not escape its bindings, despite its inhuman strength.

Lee Chang finds his feet leading him to the side of the monster. Almost unconsciously, his knees buckle, and he falls to a kneeling position before the monster-that-once-was-his-father.

“Father,” he whispers, and he looks with pity at the blood-spattered robes of the king. He remembers, now, how his father had told him that the state of his garb was to always be neat and proper, as befitted the heir to the throne. Lee Chang does not remember a single instant in which his father had had a single hair out of place, or a mis-chosen piece of attire clothing his body. His father had always been regal, and graceful, and stern.

It is a disservice, he thinks angrily, that his father is reduced to the figure he makes now. It is a disservice, and a grave insult, and he will make them pay.

Beside the monster lies the maid who had been thrown callously to feed it. Her eyes lie open, staring and stark in their gaze of terror, and her face, which might once have been pretty, is barely recognisable, devoid of flesh as her lower jaw is.

Lee Chang reaches over, and passes his hand over her eyes, so that she may be at peace.

As he stands, he turns to Yeong-shin, who is standing behind him and watching his every movement. Even as their eyes lock, Yeong-shin makes no movement to look away.

“How do I know I can trust you,” Lee Chang asks, his voice rough, and although he had not meant it to be so, the words come out with a jagged edge.

Yeong-shin’s throat works as he swallows, the only outwardly sign of his agitation, for otherwise, his face is calm, and his body is still.

“Because you’re alive,” he says at last. “If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead by now. How many times could I have put a knife or a bullet in your back?”

“You said you would serve me with your life,” Lee Chang says steadily.

“Yes,” Yeong-shin answers, and the word is infused with such intensity that Lee Chang feels himself shudder. He hesitates.

“Your Highness - ” Mu-yeong says despairingly from behind him, as if he already knows Lee Chang’s decision. As if he had already guessed, from the moment Lee Chang had first spoken.

“I said I trusted you with my life,” Lee Chang says decisively, and for the first time, he touches Yeong-shin. He lifts his arm and grasps tightly onto Yeong-shin’s shoulder, and he does not miss how the gesture makes Yeong-shin’s body jerk violently. A dull, ugly flush spreads across his neck, barely visible if it were not for their close proximity, and Lee Chang finds that he likes the idea that he is the only one to see it. The only one to see Yeong-shin flustered so.

“My answer has not changed,” Lee Chang whispers. “I still trust you with my life.”

Yeong-shin does not answer, but for the first time, his gaze is clear as he meets Lee Chang’s eyes.

***

It is the next morning that things fall to pieces.

They had brought the monster to Lee Chang’s private quarters, somehow managing to sneak it past the negligent guards on duty, and hid it in a cupboard by the fire. The heat kept it docile, and the shade gave it shelter behind which it could slumber. Seo-bi treats their wounds with a silence that is more telling that any sharp words could be, and they discuss their plans quietly.

The king must be revealed to the people as a monster made by the Haewon Cho clan, Lee Chang had said unfalteringly. We must do so tomorrow, with haste – hopefully, before the queen gives birth.

It is an uncommonly-long labour, Mu-yeong had said quietly. I do not know what she is plotting, but it cannot be good.

We have no choice, Lee Chang had decided. We cannot control what she does, only what we do. We must reveal the king tomorrow morning.

But in the morning, Lee Chang wakes not to the crowing of the cockerels, but to Mu-yeong bursting into his quarters with tears streaming down his face. Lee Chang knows the urgency of his visit from the very fact that he had dared to intrude into Lee Chang’s bedroom without prior notice, for it is the first time that he has taken so rude a liberty.

“My wife, my wife - ” Mu-yeong blubbers, panting and heaving, as if he had just run many miles. “She is gone! GONE!!”

“Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says sternly. “Be calm! Tell me what has happened.”

The man attempts to take a few deep breaths to recover his strength, but it is not long before great heaving sobs take over his body again and send him into a shuddering fit. Yeong-shin bursts into the room, his musket drawn, already fully clothed. Seo-bi peers in cautiously from behind him, and sighs in relief when she sees that there is no danger. Mu-yeong is still crying, so distraught that he cannot speak.

Lee Chang backhands him without hesitation. The blow is hard, but with some small measure of leniency, and it propels Mu-yeong backwards. The force of the blow makes him stumble, and he has to throw out his hand to steady himself against the wall.

“Pull yourself together, Mu-yeong!” Lee Chang roars. “What has happened to your wife?”

The blow has sobered Mu-yeong, although tears still leak silently from the corners of his eyes. Yeong-shin and Seo-bi enter the room proper, and shut the door behind them.

“Last night – I went to Naesonjae – I had a message that my wife was in the midst of labour,” he blabbers. “That she had been since the morning, and that it was a difficult birth – a dangerous one – and I was needed. I rode to her home to find her, but she was gone when I reached her. Not dead, but missing. And then,” he pauses for breath, “and then, her father told me that she has been taken to the Queen’s palace in Naesonjae.”

“The Queen?” Lee Chang says slowly. The pieces began to click together in his mind.

“She was one of many,” Mu-yeong cries. “Her father told me that there have been many husband-less, parent-less women taken to the Queen’s palace in the last month, all with child. She was the only one taken who still had a family. She is alone, and she is scared, and I am not there by her side – Your Highness, I - ”

“Naesonjae,” Seo-bi says suddenly, and there is a growing light in her eyes. “I remember Naesonjae.”

“How?” Lee Chang asks.

“It was… weeks ago,” she says slowly. “I only remember the incident because it was so odd… Master, I mean Physician Lee, asked me to obtain sappanwood from our supplier for reasons he could not tell me. Although we use it frequently, the quantity he asked for was unusually large, and so I had some difficulty obtaining it. When he passed it to one of the delivery boys, I overheard that it must be delivered to Naesonjae and only into the hands of the queen’s head lady-in-waiting, and so I wondered… I wondered why the queen would need such a large quantity of sappanwood.”

“Sappanwood?” Lee Chang presses. “What ailments is it meant to heal?”

“Among others, it is used to remove blood clots after a miscarriage or birth, or to alleviate symptoms related to improper or lack of postpartum care,” Seo-bi answers, and she lifts troubled eyes to meet Lee Chang’s gaze. “It cannot be fed to pregnant women.”

“She is not pregnant, then,” Lee Chang says, and he feels his heart thump faster in his chest. A growing sense of foreboding makes him grip the edge of his table to steady himself. “But how? I saw here just yesterday, and the day before, and she was still as round as ever – rounder, if it were possible! It is impossible that she is without child.”

“If we had more time,” Seo-bi says, “We could have found a way to let me check her medical signs, to see if she really is with child - ”

“But we have no time!” Mu-yeong finishes her sentence, his entire body beginning to tremble violently again as the terrible truth begins to sink into all of them. “MY WIFE IS IN DANGER!” he roars, and leaps to his feet.

Lee Chang follows his movement, and so do the others. “To Naesonjae, then,” he commands, “and quickly!”

***

“What is Your Highness doing here?”

The Head of the Royal Commandery Min Chi-rok can barely contain his shock as he is met by Lee Chang and his companions at the gate of Naesonjae. It is equally surprising to Lee Chang, for the man has never been an inch below unflappable, and to see him so discombobulated is a sight indeed. But these are trivial matters compared to the matter at hand.

“Your Highness!” Commander Min exclaims. “You – you are a wanted man now! What are you doing here in Naesonjae?!”

“Wanted?” Lee Chang says in disbelief. “For what crime?”

“For the murder of Lord Cho and his son Beom-il,” Commander Min answers soberly. “The Queen herself has put a bounty on your head.”

He puts his hand to his sword, although the movement is reluctant, and he does not draw the weapon. Perhaps it is the crazed look in Mu-yeong’s eye, perhaps it is whatever semblance of loyalty he still bears to Lee Chang, perhaps it is his own sense of justice that stays his hand, but no matter the reason, still he makes no move to arrest Lee Chang, and for that, Lee Chang knows he will be a valuable ally.

“I did kill Cho Beom-il,” Lee Chang answers fiercely, “but only in self-defence. And, I swear to you – I did not touch a single hair on Cho Hak-ju’s head. It must be one of the Queen’s plots to denounce and dethrone me.”

Commander Min nods and retracts his hand, some of the relief passing lightning-quick across his face before he schools his expression back to its normal, blank mask. “The Haewon Cho clan and their plots have previously been subtle, but it seems that they have decided that now is the time to make more overt gestures,” he says sternly, “especially now that the new Crown Prince has been born.”

“He has been born?” Lee Chang asks, feeling his breath stutter to a halt. That must mean that Mu-yeong’s wife –

Mu-yeong comes to the same conclusion as he does, at the exact same time, and with a thunderous cry of rage, he barrels past Commander Min and his gathered men, and charges into the palace.

“Your Highness!” Commander Min shouts. “Your guard - ”

“There is something terrible afoot here,” Lee Chang cuts in, and passes a quick glance over his assembled men, before returning his eyes to the commander. “Something you have apparently caught wind of, yourself. We do not have any substantial proof, but we believe the Queen has been capturing and killing young pregnant women from Naesonjae if they fail to deliver her a son – who she planned to use as her own heir.”

From the way Commander Min’s face darkens, it is evident that he had guessed at only some parts of Lee Chang’s theory. Whatever had set him on this scent, however, must have strongly correlated with Lee Chang’s words, because he does not question the accusations and instead turns to his men, standing at high alert behind him.

“Search the Queen’s palace,” he orders. “Leave no corner untouched, and let no one escape.”

The men salute, and spread out to begin their search. Lee Chang and Yeong-shin follow closely behind them.

The Queen’s maids and ladies-in-waiting flood out from the palace rooms, screaming and crying and holding their skirts aloft. One of them darts out from a room, clothes askew, and accompanied by a eunuch with his shirt half-off. Lee Chang casts them a look of disgust, before they are swiftly apprehended by the commander’s men and brought to the main courtyard.

All of a sudden, there is a sharp, piercing scream from a room nearby, a scream that had sounded as if it had come from the last desperate breaths of a woman in peril. Lee Chang exchanges a quick glance with Yeong-shin, and the man nods. They sprint to the source of the scream.

In the room they find Mu-yeong, bleeding from a fresh wound in his shoulder, but with his sword very satisfactorily buried in the abdomen of a man with dark clothing and a piece of fabric obscuring his features. Mu-yeong’s wife lies in the corner of the room, too limp to move, racking sobs leaking from her mouth and making her entire body shudder with the strength of her emotion. There is a bloody trail leaking out from between her legs.

Lee Chang grips Mu-yeong by the shoulder. His guard’s eyes are glassy with fear and shock, as he turns.

“Your wife needs you,” Lee Chang whispers, and it takes a moment, but finally, the fog drops from Mu-yeong’s eyes.

He falls to the ground next to his wife and cradles her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear. Slowly, under his care, she comes back to herself, and her cries become softer, more kitten-like, less violent.

“We must get her to Seo-bi,” Yeong-shin says quietly. “She is bleeding to death.”

Lee Chang nods. “I will bring them both to the entrance of the palace,” he says. “Leave the assassin – he is dead.”

When they return to the entrance, Seo-bi is waiting there, somehow having procured medical supplies, which lie neatly on a blanket laid on the ground next to her. Her eyes widen as she sees Mu-yeong’s wife, and she hurries over to lay her on the ground.

Assured that both Mu-yeong and his wife are in capable hands, Lee Chang turns his attention back to the crowd of the Queen’s servants, who have all been rounded up and corralled in the front courtyard of the Queen’s palace by Commander Min’s men. They are all unarmed, eunuchs and maids and ladies-in-waiting who have never before wielded a weapon, and it shows. Both men and women grovel for their lives before him.

Except for one of them, who holds herself high with an almost-regal posture. Her silver hair and robes make her out as the head lady-in-waiting. This, then, Lee Chang thinks, is the woman who knows the most, and also the woman who will say the least – at least, without the threat of torture.

Lee Chang is tired of violence. If he can, he will avoid the shedding of more blood. It is enough that they have all suffered so.

“Silence!” he commands, and his voice rings out throughout the courtyard. Instantly, all of the captured people fall to their knees – if they weren’t already on the ground – and quiet descends over the group. Lee Chang hears the echo of his own voice, and its power surprises even him.

“We have come here,” he says, quieter this time, but no less fierce, “because your mistress the Queen is guilty of treason. She is guilty of plotting against the throne of Joseon for her own ends, guilty of murdering her own father, and most importantly – guilty of slaughtering thousands of innocent peasants across our land who have done nothing to deserve the gruesome death they have met.”

He stalks the rows of people, scanning them, looking for the weak link. There is no time to lose, and he must strike soon, if not now.

“I know many of you here are innocent,” he continues, and this time his voice is easier, more patient, almost benevolent. There is no artificiality in his gentleness, however, for every word he says, he believes in. “Many of you do not know that your mistress is capable of such crimes.”

“But some of you,” he says, and he stops next to a girl who is quivering and shrinking into herself to avoid proximity to him, “Some of you – you know what the Queen is capable of. Have known all along. But of course, you did not mean to help her in her crimes. You could not have done anything else.”

He looks down at the girl, whose hands are now grasped together in a tight fist, her nails drawing blood from her palm. He feels his heart clench painfully at the sight.

“If you confess,” he says, now very softly and kindly, “you will not be blamed. You will not be held accountable for her crimes. You will be free to go.”

“Ah Ra!” comes a shriek from the front, and Lee Chang’s head whips up to see the head lady-in-waiting, her eyes lit with a fearsome light, and her gaze trained on the girl at his feet. “Remember who your mistress is! Remember who you serve!”

“YOUR TRUE MASTER STANDS BEFORE YOU!” thunders Lee Chang. “WILL YOU SERVE A TREASONOUS QUEEN, OR WILL YOU SERVE A MAN WHO WILL INHERIT THE THRONE? It is your choice,” and he turns to face the girl again, who is now sobbing openly, her face buried in her hands. “I know you are not guilty. But if you do not confess your mistress’ crimes, more blood will be shed by her hand, and the river water will run foul with corpses.

“Please,” he says, and his voice breaks on the last word.

A beat, and then the girl’s voice comes, scratchy and rasping from her tears.

“Her Majesty was taking women from the village,” she whispers, keeping her eyes resolutely downwards. There is another ferocious screech from the head lady-in-waiting, the sound of a scuffle as she attempts to throw herself towards the girl but is quickly restrained by one of the men. Lee Chang does not turn his head to look, for he gives his sole attention to the girl at his feet.

“Young women who were with child but without family or a husband,” she mumbles. “They have been giving birth these past few weeks. But as soon as they delivered, they were killed. For their children were all daughters. It was only today…” she stumbles, and seems to find it difficult to continue, but Lee Chang waits patiently for her to find her tongue again.

“Today,” she murmurs, “today there was a son. And so Her Majesty took the son, and left the mother to die.” A great hiccoughing sob racks her body, and she begins to shake again. “I do not know why she wants the baby,” she cries. “Does she not have her own child? I swear, that is all I know! Please have mercy, Your Highness!”

“You have done the right thing,” Lee Chang says, and he grants her a smile when she lifts her head to gaze at him in shock. “I meant what I said. You are innocent of crime, and you are free to go. But,” and now he raises his voice and his head to look around at the other occupants of the yard – and now his voice is stern and full of barely-restrained fury – “anyone in this courtyard who is guilty of taking the lives of those women – or who consciously aided the Queen in the taking of those lives – you will be subject to investigation and the appropriate punishment.”

He looks at Commander Min, and the man answers with a nod. His men spring into action and being rounding up the occupants of the courtyard and taking them away.

The commander comes to his side. “Your Highness,” he says, his face a grim mask, at the news they have learned of the queen’s plans. He does not ask the question which is plain in his eyes.

Lee Chang exhales forcefully. “We must act quickly,” he says quietly. “Chances are that news of Naesonjae’s sacking has already reached the queen’s ears – we do not know what drastic actions she will resort to when she realises her plans have been thwarted.”

Commander Min nods. “And Lord Cho - ” he asks hesitantly. “His death…”

“How did he die?” Lee Chang questions in return. The commander’s unflappable expression does not change, but a thread of uneasiness steals across his features.

“He was said to have had a heart attack last night when visiting the queen,” Commander Min answers. “But I heard that Her Majesty did not summon a doctor to check that the body was dead, and it was cremated quietly without ceremony this morning.”

She has made a tactical error in getting rid of her father, Lee Chang thinks to himself. The queen does not have the loyalties or allies that her father had, and now that the man is gone, the flighty ministers and officials who had previously allied themselves with him will be vying for power amongst themselves. As a woman, and a young woman at that, she naturally commands little respect from her father’s cronies, even though she now holds control over the highest seat in the land.

Fools, all of them, Lee Chang thinks furiously. It would not do to underestimate any of the members of the Haewon Cho clan, that nest of vipers, no matter how young and inexperienced they may seem. For the Queen may not have her father’s political acumen, nor his powerful connections, but she does have his ruthlessness and scheming wit. And that is not to be looked down on.

“We must hurry back to the palace, and seize the throne from her,” Lee Chang says decisively. He turns back to the commander, whose eyes are now as round as dinnerplates at his words, his mouth gaping slightly open in shock.

“You have heard of the plague that is sweeping the south and turning its people into monsters who crave human flesh?” Lee Chang asks him. He immediately snaps his mouth shut, and nods.

“The Haewon Cho clan is responsible for this infection, and therefore, all the deaths that have resulted from it. They have even dared to turn the King into a monster,” Lee Chang says, his tone hard. “I managed to visit the King’s palace under cover of the dark a few days ago, and found my father no longer living, and now one of these unholy creatures. We have him in my private quarters, and he will serve as proof of the Haewon Cho clan’s vile misdeeds.”

With every word he speaks, the shock and anger thrum deeper through his every vein, and he can see these emotions reflected in Commander Min’s gaze as well. As Lee Chang finishes his explanation, the commander’s jaw tightens, and a renewed steeliness comes to his eyes.

“Then we must reveal the truth to the ministers, and depose the queen,” he says crisply. Lee Chang nods. “Your men will support you?” he asks.

“To the very end,” Commander Min answers, and no more words are needed.

He summons those of his men who are unoccupied with the Naesonjae prisoners, and they mount their horses, waiting for the signal to leave. Lee Chang mounts his own steed, but pauses at the sight of Mu-yeong, still crouched over his wife, her hand clutched tightly in his, and his head bowed over her chest, such that his expression cannot be seen. Her complexion is deathly pale, but her chest is rising and falling with greater vigour than before. Thankfully, however, from the sureness of Seo-bi’s hands as she dresses her patient’s wounds, and the calmness and placidity of her actions, Lee Chang is confident that she is in no more danger.

At the sound of the horses moving and the men shouting out commands with increased volume, Mu-yeong looks up, his face haggard with fear and anxiety. He sees Lee Chang already mounted, and blanches.

When he makes to stumble to his feet, Lee Chang urges his horse closer to the pallet on which Mu-yeong’s wife is lying, and places a hand on Mu-yeong’s shoulder. It is the second time that he has touched Mu-yeong, in his life, and he knows it will not be the last, for Mu-yeong is now as dear a figure to him as a good friend, an uncle, a brother.

The touch seems to soothe Mu-yeong somewhat, although he initially flinches back in surprise that Lee Chang has chosen to touch him again. When he has recovered his composure, he looks up at Lee Chang with uncomprehending eyes.

“Stay,” Lee Chang says, and his voice is unbearably gentle, even to his own ears.

“But, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says, the volume of his voice rising in confusion. “You will be in danger. It is my duty to protect you. I will come with you,” and he begins to walk off in the direction of his horse. Lee Chang tightens his grip on the guard’s soldier so that he may not move.

“No, Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says, and when Mu-yeong turns to face him again, Lee Chang grants him a wan smile. “You have done enough. It is enough to know that you and your wife will be safe. And while you have your duty to me, you have your duty to your dear wife as well, do you not?”

“But - ”

“Rest assured,” Lee Chang cuts in, “I will personally bear your son back to you, safe and sound. But your son needs his mother, and you must make sure that he has a mother to come back to.”

Mu-yeong stares at him blankly for a few more moments, before he abruptly casts his head away and stares at the ground. His shoulders begin to shake.

“Thank you,” Mu-yeong rasps, almost inaudibly, the words scraping over his tear-roughened throat. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

***

The bells of Bosingak ring triumphantly as Lee Chang and his men ride back to Hanyang, but they leave a sour taste in his mouth.

He remembers only two occasions on which they had rung so joyfully and with so rich a timbre and cadence. The first had been his birth, and the noise had irritated his infant ears, had made him cry and bawl with dissatisfaction, as he had been taken from the warm embrace of his mother, and into the callus-worn hands of the midwife.

The second time, he had been in the palace, and his master Ahn Hyeon had returned covered in blood. The war with the Japanese had been ended, but the lives of too many Joseon men had been sacrificed for it to be their victory.

And now, the third time. For the birth of the false prince, and for the culmination of a traitor’s schemes.

The guard attempts to stop him at the gate, but he merely urges his horse forward, and he, Commander Min and their men charge through the streets. People scatter before them, and behind them there are faint shouts and the blowing of horns as the alarm is sounded.

“Seize the prince!” shrieks a voice from up on the barracks. “Seize the traitor!”

The commander’s men fend off attacks from beside them, as the guards at the gate surge forward and attempt to cripple their horses – to little avail, for there are no more elite swordsmen than the soldiers of the Royal Commandery. The attackers are batted off as flies to the horses’ flanks, and it is not long before they reach the gates of Changdeokgung.

More men bar their way, and this time they cannot bulldoze their way through on horseback. Lee Chang looks at the commander, and he nods. The moment the two of them descend from their horses, Commander Min’s men immediately form a circle around them, guarding them from attack behind.

“I must speak to the queen, and the ministers,” Lee Chang says clearly. “I have evidence that the queen has been involved in a plot against the nation, and against the throne.” He pauses, and when there is no response from the guards – other than to cross their swords in front of the gate – he sighs.

“Do you not have relatives in the south?” he asks, softer this time, watching their faces. “Have you not heard of the terrible plague that is ravaging settlements, towns, cities? The plague that is turning your friends and family into monsters?”

He sees that they have faltered in their fierceness at his words, and he presses his advantage.

“The queen is the cause of the plague,” he says lowly. “She has unleashed the disease in the south so she may take command of the throne. Will you rest well knowing that such a woman will have control of the land? I do not wish to hurt you,” he adds, seeing one of the guards’ hands lower infinitesimally, “but I am willing to, if you will not let me pass.”

There is a single, loaded pause. The guards exchange wary glances and shift uneasily on their feet - then slowly, unwillingly, they lower their swords, and step aside with short bows. Lee Chang nods his thanks to the both of them, and pushes the door open.

They find the front courtyard relatively deserted, with most of the guards having been out on morning patrol in the city, or guarding the gate. Lee Chang turns to Yeong-shin, who has been a quiet but steady shadow at his side.

“You know what to do,” he says quietly, and Yeong-shin nods.

A month ago you said the crowds were dangerous, and you refused to leave my side, Lee Chang thinks. A month ago you would not have trusted me to defend myself. No sound comes from his mouth, but he thinks Yeong-shin hears the words he does not say, for there is a minute softening of the lines around his eyes as he looks at Lee Chang.

Be careful, Lee Chang says in his mind, and Yeong-shin nods again, sharp and short. He turns on his heel and hurries in the opposite direction.

They make a quick stop at the royal stables to hand their horses over to the gawking stable boys, and there is no other time to lose. It is the time when an assembly will have been called, Lee Chang knows, to introduce the new prince to the ministers, and for the ministers to have their audience with the queen. It is the perfect opportunity to reveal the truth to all of them, and see what the queen has left to say in her defence.

The doors to the audience chamber make a mighty satisfying boom as he throws them open, and strides into the chamber with Commander Min and his men at his back. He ignores the shocked gasps and murmurings of the ministers, gathered in rows by the side of the main walkway. His eyes are fixed solely on the figure seated on the throne, a squirming bundle in her arms, and a look of fury on her beautiful face.

“What is the meaning of this?” roars one of the officials, standing at the head of the rows of ministers. His voice is familiar – he is one of the men who had constantly curried favour and licked the heels of the Haewon Cho clan; a weasel of a man who had taken every opportunity to undermine whatever little authority Lee Chang had had under his father’s rule. And now he seems to have become the self-appointed leader of the remnants of Cho Hak-ju’s former allies.

“Guards! Seize this murderer!” squeals another of the ministers, also a former associate of Cho Hak-ju’s. “He is a traitor to the throne! Guards!” He looks around and wrings his hand ineffectively as it appears that everyone is ignoring his orders, too intent on the spectacle playing out in front of them.

Lee Chang comes to a stop in front of the throne, and he does not bow. Instead, he lifts his chin high, and looks down his nose at her. He knows she has always hated this look of his, and he savours the way it makes her face harden, flint-like, in its abject rage.

“That baby is not yours,” he says quietly, but his voice echoes, full and rich, throughout the chamber. “And neither is that throne.”

“You!” she spits, then visibly reigns back her anger. She clutches the baby tighter to her chest, as if it will somehow protect her from his words. “How dare you speak to your mother the queen in such a manner?”

“You are not my mother,” he answers calmly. Then he turns and faces the assembled ministers.

“I bring to you news of a conspiracy that has been planned and executed by the Haewon Cho clan, to claim control over the throne,” he says, and immediately the assembled officials break into a renewed multitude of whispers and confused murmurs. He merely waits for them to quiet, for he knows he will regain their attention soon.

When silence once again reigns over the chamber, he continues.

“Four days ago, when I attempted to visit my father in his chambers – where I heard he was resting, and recovering from smallpox – I laid before him the news I had gathered in the south. All of you have heard of the terrible disease ravaging the south, I am sure, and I had found evidence that the seed of this epidemic had been planted by someone.

“I found the man who had been spreading the disease, and he was a man you will know – Physician Lee Seung-hui, a man who aided our army in the war against the Japanese three years ago.” There is a collective intake of breath at the news, but Lee Chang forges on. “I found that he had been forced to spread the disease by someone, but he would not confess who. I brought him back to Hanyang to find the truth from him, but he disappeared from my custody two days ago.

“Two days ago,” Lee Chang repeats, emphasising the words. “Two days ago, I visited my father again, secretly this time, for somehow I had been barred from visiting my own father on his sickbed – by none other than the honourable queen herself. And I found that he had been consumed by the plague – the same plague that is turning both peasants and nobles in the south alike into inhuman creatures that lust after human flesh.”

One of the ministers swoons and falls over in a dead faint.

Very slowly, Lee Chang turns and looks straight at the queen. “Today I have returned from Naesonjae,” he says, and his voice is hard as he watches her eyes widen. “And I  - and Commander Min of the Royal Commandery - have found evidence of something far more treasonous – yes, far more treasonous than a plot to systematically introduce a fatal disease into a population of Joseon’s own people!”

The queen utters a scornful laugh, and tosses her head to the side. She paints a pretty picture, dainty and beautiful in her youth and vigour, and tragic in her role as the innocent accused, although Lee Chang knows that she is anything but.

“Do you have evidence?” she asks dismissively. “Do you have proof that these are nothing more than false accusations to detract from your crimes as the slaughterer of my father and my brother? I do not understand,” and now she looks contemptuously at the officials and men at her feet, “why none of you are moving to capture this murderer and traitor to the throne!”

“Oh, but I do have proof,” Lee Chang says softly, and steps aside.

The girl from Naesonjae stumbles forwards, kept firmly in her place by an unyielding hand placed tightly on her forearm by Commander Min. She tells her story with many stops and stumbles and false starts, but it is enough. Lee Chang senses the tide of sentiment in the room begin to turn, previously resolutely against him, and now in his favour.

Somehow the queen manages to keep her composure through the story, and when the girl is finished, she merely sniffs disdainfully, and looks down at the girl with eyes that could burn ice. The poor maid quails and shrinks into herself.

“Lies,” she says icily. But she clutches the prince tighter to herself, and the slip betrays her.

“You need more proof?” Lee Chang says. He can hear Yeong-shin’s footsteps, measured and calm, as he makes his way into the chamber. Lee Chang gestures for him to come forward, without turning to look.

As Yeong-shin moves forward, the ministers gasp in horror and shy away from the centre of the walkway. When Yeong-shin reaches Lee Chang’s side, he sets down his burden, and with a theatrical flourish, whips the bag off the former king’s head.

[unpeumacabre]

my kingdom for a horse: chapter 4

the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.

a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 3k

<-- previous next -->

In the morning, Lee Chang leaves Sangju with instructions to the soldiers to hunt for the monsters in the day, and destroy their bodies in the ways that would leave them permanently dead. The commander of the battalion also reassures him that they will further reinforce the walls and put into place new measures against the monsters, so that their defenses will hold.

Near the last few hours of night-time, nearing dusk, some more tenacious monsters had started banging on Sangju’s gates, but there had been so few of them that the guards on the walls had been able to hold them off. The men had reported a larger crowd of monsters that had been following, however, and had disappeared as the sun crossed the horizon. Lee Chang hopes there will be enough soldiers to thin them out sufficiently so they will not present a problem come the next night.

He leaves Sangju clad in thicker clothes, for winter is nigh upon them, and every breath comes out in a misty puff of air. And he leaves Sangju in Lord Ahn Hyeon’s care, as he had promised Yeong-shin.

“It is not that I am forcing you out of mourning; it is that the people need you,” he tells his master, seriously. “You must take care of Sangju in my absence.”

Lord Ahn Hyeon had gazed upon him with solemn, thoughtful eyes, then bowed and accepted with little protest. “I will see to it that the signal fires are lit, and that the men are deployed to find the monsters,” he murmurs. “Where will your next destination be, Your Highness?”

“I must trace the origin of the disease,” Lee Chang replies. “Someone is spreading this plague, very deliberately, so I must find its agent, and prove that he is an agent of Cho Hak-ju. I will journey to Jecheon, and if I do not find answers there, then on to Wonju, and so forth, to the other cities. I must stop the plague before it reaches Hanyang, and consumes the royal family.”

“You are certain you do not wish any of my guards as accompaniment?”

“I have Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin with me,” Lee Chang answers steadily. “And I wish to travel incognito – it will be difficult with an entourage.”

“Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin,” Lord Ahn Hyeon repeats softly, and his eyes dart towards Lee Chang’s left. Lee Chang feels Yeong-shin shift uneasily next to him, but otherwise, he makes no acknowledgement of Lord Ahn Hyeon’s gaze upon him.

“Yes, you will be safe with them by your side,” he acquiesces, and returns his piercing scrutiny to Lee Chang.

His eyes linger on Lee Chang for a moment more, then he nods, and sighs.

“If I may, Your Highness – I was wrong about you. You are not still the boy I left behind in Hanyang three years ago,” he says, so softly that only Lee Chang hears him.

“That boy would not have survived the past few days,” Lee Chang returns, with a dry smile.

“Mm, that is true. You make an old man long for his days back in Hanyang, Your Highness,” says Lord Ahn Hyeon, returning his smile; and it is on this bittersweet note that they make their parting once more.

The road to Jecheon is hard-going for their steeds, but it is quiet and with little distraction. They travel a great distance in the one day, and Lee Chang estimates they will likely reach Jecheon the next morning. They break for the night in a relatively-sheltered area of the plains, from which it will be easy to see approaching monsters, and then they divvy up the night watch as usual.

Seo-bi wanders off to gather more herbs to treat the various scrapes and wounds they have acquired here and there, and Yeong-shin volunteers to accompany her, both as a guard and to hunt meat for their supper.

The moment they are alone, Mu-yeong sidles up to Lee Chang, where he is seated by the fire and sharpening his blade with his whetstone.

“Did you speak to the tiger hunter last night?” he asks, glancing watchfully out towards the plains.

“I did,” Lee Chang says quietly.

“…And?”

“I do not know what to make of him,” he confesses.

“What to – Your Highness!” Mu-yeong splutters. “It is true that he has conducted himself well so far, but he is a dangerous man, and we do not know who he is, or why he has placed himself by our side for so long! He may well be in the pay of one of the numerous officials who wants you dead – oh!”

“It is alright,” Lee Chang murmurs calmly, swiftly pressing the fabric of his robe against his hand, where his carelessness has opened up a cut in the join of his palm. “My mistake. I was being incautious.”

Mu-yeong helps him clean and bandage his wound in a guilty silence, but he is not to be so easily put off the subject.

“Your Highness,” he presses, and his voice now holds a tinge of hurt, “Do you trust him more than you trust me, when I say that we cannot put our faith in him?”

“It is not a matter of weighing you against him,” Lee Chang says, a stern rebuff. He feels the sting of his fresh wound in his clenched fist, and forces himself to regain his composure. When next he speaks, his voice is cool once more.

“It is not that I do not trust your intuition in this matter,” he tries again. “He may very well have ill intentions. But my opinion on this is an opinion of necessity. He is a powerful warrior, and he knows these parts well. We would do well to have all the help we can get.”

“Then I will keep an eye on him,” Mu-yeong says obstinately. “I will protect you from his treachery, if indeed he proves to be a turncoat.”

“And I will rest well,” Lee Chang replies, granting Mu-yeong a soft smile, “knowing that you are by my side.”

Lee Chang takes the first watch that night, and even when his shift has been relieved by Mu-yeong, he remains sleepless for hours still, and tosses and turns in his bedroll. Yeong-shin is an enigmatic figure indeed, and yet he fascinates Lee Chang so. Lee Chang wonders why.

The next morning, they reach Jecheon in good time. It is a bustling city, smaller than Sangju but well-developed in its economy. The markets are in full-swing, and the shouts of customers and sellers alike fill the air. Seo-bi slips away to purchase more food and herbs, but Yeong-shin stays close.

“The crowds can be dangerous,” is his response, when Lee Chang asks him if he will not be making his own purchases.

“I am not helpless,” Lee Chang says patiently.

“And he has me,” blusters Mu-yeong.

“I know you aren’t,” Yeong-shin says bluntly, but still he doesn’t retreat. Lee Chang resigns himself to having two overprotective men plastering themselves to his side as he wades through the crowd. He almost trips over an old man buying crockery at one of the stalls, and bends to pick up the man’s straw hat when it falls to the ground. The man accepts it from him with a down-turned head and quiet words of thanks, and soon disappears, washed away by the surge of the crowd.

It seems an endlessly-long time before they reach the magistrate’s court, but finally they do. He is holding court, and as Lee Chang watches with aghast eyes, he orders a peasant stripped to his flesh and whipped within an inch of his life.

“My Lord – please believe me – the bull is mine - ” howls the man, but the governor turns a blind eye.

“How can it be your bull!” he sneers. “Tis the colour of gold – how would a lowly peasant like yourself be granted with so beautiful a creature? It clearly belongs to Lord Choi. Be grateful that I am being so merciful to you. Theft is punishable by death in my book, you know. Be grateful that I am only letting you off with fifty lashes!”

“My Lord, have mercy,” sobs the man, shrieking in agony as the whip tears at his flesh. “I have cared for this bull since it was a calf. I purchased it from Kim Oh Do in the marketplace – he can vouch for me!”

“Lies, lies, and more lies!” squeals a rotund man standing beside the magistrate. “I bought that bull from Kim Oh Do. You stole it from my farm two days ago!”

“Ten more lashes, for his lies,” orders the magistrate, and the poor man being whipped hardly has strength to react to the addition. His back is raw and torn open by the whip, and the copper tang of blood fills the air. Lee Chang can bear it no longer.

“Stop this immediately!” he roars, and strides into the court. The guards unsheathe their swords and step forward, but immediately Mu-yeong and Yeong-shin are beside him, sword raised and musket cocked.

“Your head would hit the ground before even you touched a hair on his head,” Mu-yeong snarls, and the guards balk.

“Who – who – who are you?” squawks the magistrate, shooting up from his seat in indignation. “And how dare you invade my court! Do you know who I am?!”

“Do you know who I am?” Lee Chang fires the question back at him, his voice cold. “By drawing your weapons on me, you have committed yourself to the annihilation of your whole family.”

A familiar figure stumbles out from the doors bordering the magistrate’s seat, and although it is initially difficult to recognise his face in the low light, the shape of his beard and belly give him away.

“It is the P-p-p-prince!” Cho Beom-pal whispers frantically into the ears of the magistrate. “The Crown Prince Lee Chang!”

Murmurs begin to spread among the residents of the court, then as one, they fall to the ground.

“All hail His Royal Highness!” wails the governor, his nose buried in the dust as he grovels. There is a sort of savage pleasure, Lee Chang thinks, to be taken in the way he and Lord Choi choke as they inhale sand up their nostrils.

“I have come here expecting a fair and noble man who justly deserves the mandate bestowed upon him by my father,” Lee Chang says, every word clear and crisp and cold, “and instead, what do I find? Help him up, and make sure he gets medical attention,” he says to the guard who had been flogging the peasant. He prowls towards the governor, who is now shrinking into himself and unconsciously wriggling backwards.

“Instead,” he murmurs, softly, and leans down to stare into the magistrate’s eyes, “I find a cowardly, unjust worm who serves only the rich and condemns the poor. It seems it is too much to ask, for a single magistrate in the south to fulfill their mandate to serve the people,” and he directs an icy glare at Cho Beom-pal, hunched over away to the side. The man shudders.

“Rest assured, my father will be hearing about this,” he says, straightening up and glancing around at the rest of the residents of the court. “I am sure he will be as disappointed as I am, that the nobles of this great kingdom have fallen so far in their stature.” He turns back to the magistrate.

“Get up,” he says dispassionately, “and prepare your soldiers for war. You saw the signal fires lit, did you not? There is a plague descending upon Jecheon, and it will be here by nightfall. Monsters that are half-dead, half-alive, and who crave human flesh as fodder, will come upon Jecheon in the night – monsters who can only be slaughtered by fire, or by separating their head from their body. You must send your guards to the gates to defend the city, and set up a barricade.

“Furthermore,” he continues, “there is someone spreading the plague internally, within the cities – you must send guards to investigate this matter, or you will be facing monsters both within and without Jecheon. Advise the citizens to hide in their homes and climb as high as they can, beyond the reach of the monsters.

“Dongnae has already fallen, no thanks to the man you have welcomed into your court,” and he directs another disgusted look at Cho Beom-pal, “and if you do not act, Jecheon will be next.”

“Yes, Your Highness!” answers the magistrate in a tremulous voice, finally daring to look up. “Your orders will be carried out to the letter – please be rest assured!”

“See that they are,” Lee Chang says coolly, “or your head will be the next one rolling on the ground. My blade will gladly do the honours.” He spins around, and makes for the entrance to the court. The guards part around him, and it descends into a scene of chaos, with the magistrate shouting out orders, and his men hastening to obey.

In an undertone, he murmurs to Mu-yeong, “Send a messenger to tell the king that someone has been spreading the plague of the resurrection plant around the cities of the south, and that I am investigating the matter. Tell the messenger to make sure my words do not fall into the hands of the Haewon Cho clan, and that they must be delivered directly to the king himself.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says, and with a final distrustful glance at the men in the court – and Yeong-shin – he departs.

“The more enemies you make, the more I find you need me at your side,” Yeong-shin says quietly, from his side.

On impulse, Lee Chang turns to him. “Will you dine with me tonight? Later, if we calm this madness?” he asks.

Yeong-shin’s eyes widen, the first time Lee Chang has seen him so fazed. “Why me?” he says, voice rough. “Will you not be dining at his lord’s table?”

“I feel no urge to take my supper with that worm of a man,” Lee Chang says in disgust. “And I…” he hesitates. Somehow, I am compelled towards you, he thinks, privately, but of course he does not say it aloud.

“Your prince commands it,” he ends lamely instead, and tries for a smile to show that he does not mean it seriously. It does not work, and Yeong-shin’s gaze is still confused. Confused, and guarded.

“You may decline if you wish,” Lee Chang says softly. “I will take no offence.” His fingers itch – but he knows it would be improper to touch a man of so much lower a station than him. Perhaps he would not have minded, if they had been in private – but now, they are in public, and so subject to many prying eyes.

“How could I decline when the prince of my nation asks me so courteously to honour my table with his presence?” A tinge of bitterness has entered his voice. It is difficult to see his expression, for his head is turned partially away, and Lee Chang frowns.

“Yeong-shin,” he starts, but Yeong-shin shakes his head.

“It is getting late,” he says. “Did you not intend to conduct your investigations?”

“Yes,” Lee Chang says quietly, accepting the change of subject and coming back to himself with a start. He curses himself. It is not like him, to be so distracted. They make for the city.

 I must find out who has been spreading the disease among the population, he thinks to himself. The guards at the gates will be a good place to start. And then… and then I will dine with him, later tonight.

Unfortunately, his search brings little fruit, as neither the guards nor the regular vendors in the market have observed any suspicious figures who had approached them. Furthermore, news of the monsters has spread throughout the city, and the people are in a panic, shutting themselves up at home and refusing his questions. It is a maddening state of affairs, but Lee Chang knows of no other way he would have handled matters. Jecheon needs to be prepared for the onslaught that will soon follow.

As night draws nearer and nearer, he grows more and more desperate. The herbalist is the last lead he has, but she knows nothing of a resurrection plant as well, and reports that no one suspicious had visited her either.

“Except for someone who came this morning,” she recalls, “asking the same questions you did. A lady, not fair of face, dressed in white and green. Quite suspicious, if you ask me, with blood spattering her coat - ”

“This woman I know,” Lee Chang dismisses her words, wanting to reprimand her for her careless words against Seo-bi, but chary of offending her and wasting precious time soothing her ego. “Is there really no one else you recall? Anyone who had been acting strange, anyone at all?”

The urgency of his tone compels her to think further, and she taps her chin with a finger, caught up in her thoughts.

“Well, there was that one man…” she murmurs, drawing out the words as she thinks. Lee Chang feels Yeong-shin brush against him, and he forces himself to stop tapping his foot against the floorboards in impatience.

“A man, you said,” he prompts, as gently as he can.

“An old man,” she says. “He asked where the hospital was – I told him it was just down the road, the first left and then three doors away, and I found it odd that he did not know. He must have been a stranger. He seemed like a doctor, a harmless old man, and so I hardly thought of him at first… but see here, have you heard the terrible news? That monsters will come upon us tonight craving for our flesh?” She starts quaking, and there is real fear in her eyes. “I do not know what to do,” she wails, and tears spill from her eyes. Lee Chang suddenly regrets his earlier impatience.

“Lock your doors, and climb as high as you can, if possible,” he advises. “They cannot climb without aid. And bring flame and blade with you, if you can.”

“Will Jecheon fall?” she turns her tearful eyes on him. “I fear it will. Oh, what am I to do! My son… in Hanyang… I fear I will never see him again.”

“Jecheon will not fall,” Lee Chang vows, and every word he says, he believes in. “As long as I live, none shall fall in Jecheon if I can help it.”

“As long as you – who are you?” she asks, eyes widening, but Lee Chang is already halfway out of the door.

“Thank you for your information,” he says quietly. “I will see you tomorrow morning, for you will still be alive. I know you will.”

“The hospital,” he says to Yeong-shin urgently, as they leave the herbalist’s store, “we must hurry there – this old man she speaks of, he must be the one - ”

Then he realises that he can no longer see Yeong-shin’s face clearly. The lamplight in the herbalist’s shop had blinded him to the falling of night-time.

A scream rends the air, and he smells the familiar stench of rotting flesh, and hears the terrible gnashing of teeth. There is a click next to him as Yeong-shin arms his rifle.

“Too late, Your Highness,” he says grimly, “It has begun.” There is a flash of white as he offers a quick smile Lee Chang’s way – not even a proper smile, more a baring of his teeth – and says, “We will have to put off that dinner for another day.”

“I will hold you to your promise,” Lee Chang sighs, and his heart begins to beat faster. He unsheathes his sword. Even in the dimness of the night it glitters and catches the faint glow from the moonlight.

His last coherent thought, before he dives into the fray, is a prayer for Mu-yeong, and a prayer for Seo-bi.

[unpeumacabre]

my kingdom for a horse: chapter 2

the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.

a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 5k

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A/N: ahhhh yall were so amazing it gave me the motivation to finish editing the next chapter early !! this is my first kingdom ff but omg the fandom is full of such amazing people, please enjoy and lemme know what you think <3

When they return to Jiyulheon, it is just as the sun sinks below the horizon, and darkness envelops them. As they run into the compound and shut the gates behind them, they can already hear the gnashing of the monsters’ teeth and their ghoulish cries of hunger echoing behind them.

They barricade the gate with a nearby cart, filling it with sandbags and other heavy items to hold its weight. Only then does Lee Chang turn to face the compound, and observe what lies within it.

It is truly a sorry sight. Blood has seeped into the sandy floor and the wooden floorboards of the main building, and there are, by his count, around thirty people left inside Jiyulheon. Most are too old - and others, too young - to wield a sword. The subdued wails of grieving women fill the air, as does the stench of death and the rot of carrion.

The man drops his load of bamboo poles next to a group of men, who obediently pick up their axes and other sharp implements, and begin sharpening the tips of the poles. “Seo-bi!” he calls, striding off towards the main building, and with a glance at each other, Lee Chang and Mu-yeong follow.

A weathered-looking woman hurries out of the building to meet them. Her hair is tied up in a utilitarian bun, and her clothes are stained with blood and other unidentifiable fluids. As she approaches closer, Lee Chang realises that she is not as old as he would have first thought – it is the lines of tension around her features that age her beyond her years.

She draws up short when she reaches them, and casts assessing but neutral eyes over Lee Chang and Mu-yeong.

“Who are you?” she asks, and she uses formal speech, in acknowledgement of their fine clothes and obvious nobility. It is in stark contrast to the uncaring way the man had used to address them.

When Mu-yeong hands her Lee Chang’s identification plaque, her eyes go wide, and she falls to her knees.

“Your Highness,” she says, to the ground.

“You may rise,” Lee Chang says, nodding in acknowledgement of her gesture. Again, her obeisance reminds him of the man’s defiance of his royal status, and he cannot help but turn his head and direct his gaze at the subject of his thoughts. The man returns his gaze, but makes no move to follow in suit to the woman’s deference. Against his will, Lee Chang finds the corner of his mouth quirk up in weary amusement at the man’s stubborn determination not to bend knee to him.

In Hanyang, we would have his head, he thinks absently, but they are not in Hanyang, and he has never been the tyrant his father had attempted to mould him into. Lee Chang has never been able to force himself to cruelty, and it is a trait he has not mastered even in adulthood.

The woman stands up slowly, not meeting Lee Chang’s eyes. He asks for her name and station, and she answers that she is Seo-bi, a nurse who had been working under physician Lee Seung-hui here at Jiyulheon, a safe haven for the sick and poor.

“Lee Seung-hui?” Lee Chang asks, upon hearing the name. “The royal physician? I recall him being dismissed from his position many years ago, but I do not recall the matter over which he was dismissed. Can we meet him? Surely he must have much knowledge of these monsters, given his experience and wisdom.”

Seo-bi shakes her head. “He went missing three days ago, when first the monsters formed among us,” she explains. “We do not know where he has gone. We think he is now one of the monsters’ party, but we cannot be sure.”

While her face is a near-perfect mask in its inscrutability, Lee Chang sees her hands tremble as she speaks of the fate of her master, and he feels a great swell of grief.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he says, and inclines his head. “Although I did not personally know him, I had heard many great things of his work. When this is over, we will give him the honourable burial he deserves.” Seo-bi’s head dips lower, and she nods in thanks.

“Did he leave behind a journal, or any other record, perhaps with details of these monsters?” he then presses. “Or did he ever speak of them to you before?”

Seo-bi nods. “He mentioned it in passing, many years ago. I think he did not mean for me to hear… but he was very distressed over a particular case at that time, and his mind was otherwise occupied. He said that the disease originates from the resurrection plant, found deep in the heart of the coldest of mountains, and that he had once had samples of it for study, but they had been lost, somehow. He did not mention how. And of his journals and notes…” she shakes her head. “We have searched in our waking hours for any information on the monsters we could find among his keeping, and there is none. There are records with pages missing, torn out, and we have searched all over the clinic, but we cannot find them.”

“That is suspicious indeed,” breathes Mu-yeong. “Do you know anyone with a motive to remove this information from Master Lee’s keeping?”

Seo-bi shakes her head again, firmly. “There is no one but Lee Seung-hui and a few of the nurses who knew where his journals were kept – and of those few, I am the only one alive still. The other nurses all perished at the hands of the monsters.”

There is a loud bang on the gate, and they all spin around and stare, hefting their weapons and unconsciously stepping in front of Seo-bi. A click sounds beside them, and Lee Chang looks over to see the man swiftly and deftly loading his musket, clearly with great experience. As he looks away quickly to the gate, he catches Mu-yeong’s eyes, and sees in them the same thought.

There is no time for further suspicion as the monsters pile in against the doors, their combined weight making the carts creak and moan – yet still, against all odds, they hold.

“How long have they been pounding at the gates?” yells Mu-yeong. “They do not look as if they will hold much longer!”

“We have been holding out here for three days,” the man says darkly, stalking forward. Lee Chang and Mu-yeong follow, hefting their swords, while Seo-bi hurries the women and children into the shelter of the main building.

“Did you not approach Dongnae for help?” asks Lee Chang, lowly. “The magistrate… ”

“We did,” the man says sharply, casting him a side glance from under his lashes. “We prostrated ourselves in front of the magistrate of Dongnae, Seo-bi and I, but to no avail. They did not believe us without proof, and refused to send a constable here to investigate matters. We were nearly thrown into jail for spreading lies and causing hysteria.”

“Your ruffian-like appearance probably didn’t help matters,” mutters Mu-yeong under his breath, but he subsides when Lee Chang shoots a reproving glance at him.

“We will go to Dongnae tomorrow,” Lee Chang tells the man, “and I will make them listen. How is that the monsters have not yet visited Dongnae?”

“They are drawn by the smell of blood,” the man says softly. Lee Chang feels the slickness of the gravel under his feet, and they need say no more on the matter.

“What is your name?” Lee Chang asks. He watches the man. He keeps himself deathly still, every cord of his body wound tight and perfectly in place. But the restless tap of his fingers against the wood of his musket betrays him.

“Yeong-shin,” says the man shortly, after a pause, and his voice is rough.

“Yeong-shin,” Lee Chang repeats. The petulant moans of the monsters rises, loud and clear, beyond the gates, and Lee Chang remembers their fetid breath against his neck, the unholy light in their eyes.

“Aim for the head,” Yeong-shin says, hefting his gun.

I will survive, Lee Chang tells himself. If I die, so will the people of Jiyulheon. I will survive.

***

“It is a miracle,” cries Mu-yeong, as the sun breaks past the horizon, and still they are all standing in Jiyulheon, alive and well. There had been a few tense moments, where the monsters had almost broken through their defences, but Yeong-shin had shot a monster in the face, and Lee Chang had cut off one’s head, then they had wedged the bodies in the holes created by the monsters as a temporary stopgap. It is indeed a miracle that they have held out as long as they have.

“This door will not hold one more night,” Yeong-shin says, his hand against the weathered wood. He turns back to them, his eyes burning. “We must get help from Dongnae.”

“We will,” Lee Chang says, with all the conviction he can muster. “You have my word.”

Yeong-shin casts him a scornful glare. “And the word of a prince means nothing to me,” he says hollowly. “Here we lie starving and sick and wasting away, because of the greed of the nobles. Forgive me if I do not trust your words.”

“You dare - ” Mu-yeong hisses, drawing his sword, but Lee Chang flings out his arm, staying him. He fixes his eyes on Yeong-shin.

“Then have the word of a man who has seen what these monsters can do,” he says, finally. “Have the word of a man who would not see a drop of blood further shed – no matter whether it be the blood of a noble, or a peasant, or even a dog.”

A long moment as Yeong-shin turns a searching, scorching look on him. Lee Chang feels sweat gather under his robe. Then Yeong-shin nods, in grudging acceptance, and turns away.

“We ride to Dongnae, then,” Mu-yeong says, sheathing his sword and turning to their horses. As they mount and ride down the path, Lee Chang feels the heat of Yeong-shin’s gaze on the back of his neck, and he feels the weight of that gaze all the way till they reach Dongnae.

The gates of Dongnae lie open, and limp on their hinges. Lee Chang feels that familiar feeling of resigned dread creep under his skin. There is the vile scent of blood on the air.

The streets are deserted, and their horses have to pick their way over the piles of wood and stone that have fallen from some of the houses. A man lies crushed underneath one of the pillars that had given way from the porch of a house, and his mottled black face is twisted beyond recognition into an inhuman snarl. Lee Chang has to avert his eyes.

There are some signs of life, still. Men and women emerge from the rooftops like ghouls, their eyes hooded and their clothing stained with blood. They watch, silently, as Lee Chang and Mu-yeong make their way through the streets. There is muted crying from a girl standing in front of her home, calling for her mother, and it breaks Lee Chang’s heart.

“Where is the magistrate of Dongnae?” calls Mu-yeong, and the ghouls on the rooftops shift, whisper and exchange glances. Then one particularly brave soul breaks the silence, a woman with a baby suckling quietly at her exposed breast.

“They have fled!” she wails. “The officials, they left us to die. The moment these monsters invaded our streets, the magistrate and his fellows upped and ran. They had no pity for those of us without horses and with our children, our elderly to carry on our backs.”

“This is all that’s left of Dongnae?” Lee Chang says, and although his voice is quiet, it carries. The whispers among the ghouls stop, and they stare.

“Aye,” says a man, weathered and old, as he perches wearily on the shingles of a roof. “It is all that is left of our people.”

“The monsters will be back tonight,” Lee Chang says, and he waits patiently for the sudden alarmed cacophony of murmurs to subside, before he continues. “Load your oldest and youngest on carts, and go to the docks before sunset. The monsters fear water – we will put you on ships and send you to Sangju for sanctuary.”

“Who are you to guarantee us passage to Sangju?” shouts one of the men. “And how will we sail? Only the magistrate has the authority to loose the ships docked at the harbour.”

The jade of Lee Chang’s identification tag flashes in the light, as he holds it up. The peasants inhale, a collective gasp, and they scramble to fall to their knees.

“All hail the Crown Prince!” calls the old man, his voice quavering.

“Rest assured,” Lee Chang says quietly, “we will get you to safety. This I swear to you.”

And so the peasants descend from the rooftops. They set about finding carts and supplies from what remains of the rubble, and loading their vulnerable onto the vehicles. When Lee Chang is sure that they will be able to manage on their own, he approaches the old man, who seems the calmest, and who has assumed some sort of leadership role over the group.

“Do you know where the magistrate and the other officials have gone?” he says, lowly. The man shakes his head, then pauses, and thinks.

“Most likely the barracks,” he answers. “The gates are heavy, and would have withstood the monsters’ attacks.” He then gives them directions to the fortress, and they mount their horses and ride again.

When they reach the barracks, the sun is already high in the sky, and Lee Chang curses the time they have wasted running to and fro. “When we find those cowardly officials…” he vows, and Mu-yeong nods from beside him, his jaw set.

“Where is the magistrate of Dongnae?” he roars, glaring up at the soldiers stationed at the top of the fortress walls. Immediately arrows are trained on them, and the ring of Mu-yeong’s unsheathed blade echoes in answer.

“Shoot, and your families will be annihilated!” Mu-yeong bellows. His voice is so sure, the archers hesitate, and turn to look at each other in confusion.

“State your business with the magistrate, or leave!” comes a voice from behind the soldiers, and Lee Chang dislikes it immediately. It is a cold, weaselly kind of voice, the voice of a coward.

“Must the Crown Prince have a reason to seek an audience with the magistrate of Dongnae?”he thunders, and for the second time that day, he thrusts his identification tag towards the sun.

A short little man in blood-spattered white robes shoves his way past the soldiers to squint at the tag. It is gratifying to see his eyes go wide, and his thin body begin to quiver.

“Th-the-the four-clawed dragon – it is the Crown Prince!” he howls, and falls to his knees. The archers quickly follow suit, their bows and arrows falling to the ground.

“You have already committed a grave insult by allowing your archers to aim their arrows at me,” Lee Chang says quietly. “Will you continue adding to your list of crimes by making me repeat myself?”

“O-open the gate!” squeals the little man, gesturing wildly to someone behind him. “It is the Crown Prince and his guard!”

The gates open and they ride in. There to greet them are the magistrate, in rich silken purple robes, and the weaselly man. Both are prostrate on the ground, but Lee Chang grasps the magistrate by the fabric at his throat, and hauls him up.

“A man who is charged with the safety of his people,” he says softly, “fled to the barracks like a coward, and left his people to die. Do only the lives of the rich and well-born matter in this world? I think not.” In disgust, he casts the man back down, where he falls into the dirt and grovels.

“Your Highness – beg pardon – we did not know - ”

“Hundreds of men and women and children died last night,” roars Lee Chang. “Hundreds of them, while you and your officials sat here and cowered behind the walls of your barracks. You do not deserve your title. You are lucky I have not yet asked my guard for your head.” The man shrieks and blubbers, grinding his head deeper into the ground.

“We must assemble ships and sail to Sangju,” Lee Chang continues, looking down at the two men crawling on the ground, with immense loathing. “We must leave before the sun sets. Send some of your men to find the creatures – they will be hiding under houses and in caves and wherever the sun does not shine – and burn their bodies, or remove their heads. That is the only way to kill them. At least we can try to thin their numbers, to delay their spread.”

“Your Highness!” comes another voice from inside the main building, and Lee Chang looks up to see an old lady in silk robes and an ivory pin through her hair emerge from the darkness. She prostrates herself at his feet.

“I am the mother of the ex-commander of this battalion. Please, you must allow my son’s body to be honoured with a proper funeral, or else our family will be disgraced.”

“Y-Your Highness!” another official calls, running out from the building and kowtowing as well. “My son’s body should also be honoured with a funeral. Please do not let his body be defiled.”

“Yes – the officials’ bodies must be protected!” cries the weaselly man in white robes. “We can separate their bodies by the clothes on their back. Silk for officials, linen for peasants. We must honour the officials’ bodies.” His words are followed by a concordant chorus from the rest of the nobles, who have now assembled around them and are kneeling on the ground.

Lee Chang bites back the repulsion in his throat. “I understand your pain, and your loss,” he says finally, “but we must destroy these monsters, if we are to minimise further casualties. They are no longer human. We must destroy them all, whether peasant or noble. That is my final word on the matter.”

The commander’s wife looks as if she has more to say, but at a threatening glare from Mu-yeong, she subsides, pressing her head closer to the ground as if to hide her expression. Lee Chang makes a mental note to keep a close eye on her.

“Those are my orders,” he repeats. “Am I understood?”

The magistrate rears upright on shaky legs. “I, Cho Beom-pal, magistrate of Dongnae, shall heed Your Royal Highness’ commands!” he shouts.

“Good,” Lee Chang nods in approval, and turns away. Mu-yeong stops him before he leaves.

“Your Highness, that man is not to be trusted,” he whispers. “The magistrate is a fool, but his adjutant seems a sneaky, cunning, lying sort. He’d soon as turn around and bite you as he’d lick your boots and grovel at your feet.”

“You are right,” Lee Chang concedes. “Then, Mu-yeong, you must stay here and ensure my orders are carried out. I will return to Jiyulheon by myself, to deliver the good news to them.”

“But Your Highness - !” Mu-yeong protests, his eyes going wide at the notion of the prince having to journey on his own. Lee Chang steadies him with a glance.

“It will be barely half a day that we are apart,” he promises. “Do not worry. I will keep myself safe.”

Mu-yeong finally capitulates, although it is with immense reluctance. Lee Chang understands his feelings – even in Hanyang Mu-yeong had been unwilling to let him out of his sight, though there had been thousands of palace guards to keep him safe. Perhaps even more so because of the guards – both of them knew that trust was to be found few and far between among the residents of Changdeokgung, given how much influence the queen, Cho Hak-ju and the rest of the Haewon Cho clan over them. And when it came to areas outside Hanyang… It had been even more unimaginable for Mu-yeong to let them separate, when there were so many unknowns and potential agents of disaster out there.

Until now, he supposes. But they have no choice – Mu-yeong is the only one he trusts to carry out his wishes. Ever since he had saved the man from certain annihilation of his family because of petty theft, and had earned his loyalty, Mu-yeong has proven that loyalty a thousand times over. Lee Chang realises that there is no one else in this world who he trusts more.

He knows Mu-yeong understands all that, and it is the only reason why he permits himself to leave Lee Chang’s side. Lee Chang gives him a tense smile, to reassure his old friend, then he remounts his steed, and rides through the gates.

It takes only a short amount of time to ride from the barracks to the base of Mount Geumjong again, and when he arrives, he finds the people of Jiyulheon taking their midday meal. He dismounts and hands the reins to one of the men guarding the gate.

Yeong-shin comes out to meet him, a large-brimmed hat shading his eyes from the sun. He is pocketing a knife as he emerges from the main building, and Lee Chang observes how his fingers are coated not with food crumbs, but with bamboo dust. He does not greet Lee Chang, but the question in his eyes is clear. Lee Chang nods in response.

“We must get the people to the docks,” he says. “I have spoken to the magistrate of Dongnae. They have sent men to thin the numbers of the monsters, and to ready the ships for departure to Sangju.”

“How do you know the magistrate won’t leave without us?” Yeong-shin says. Seo- bi comes out from behind him, wiping her hands on her apron. She smells of steamed rice, and her brow is furrowed with weariness. There is fresh blood on her skirts, but she hardly seems to notice.

“I left Mu-yeong to guard them and ensure they would carry out my orders,” Lee Chang replies. “You need not worry. I trust him with my life.”

“I hope you trust him with our lives as well,” mutters Yeong-shin, bad-temperedly, and stalks off towards the carts without a word.

“Seo-bi,” Lee Chang turns to her, “We must get the people of Jiyulheon onto the carts, along with sufficient food and supplies.”

“We do not have much food, but I will prepare what we have left, along with the medical supplies,” she says. “We should have enough to last till Sangju at least.”

They do indeed have enough, Lee Chang realises with some relief, when later they are standing before Dongnae’s ships, and watching the soldiers load cages upon cages of pigs, chickens and other livestock onto the ships. It looks enough to feed an army, and hopefully will be enough to allay the burden placed on Sangju by the arrival of so many refugees.

Mu-yeong meets him as he walks along the docks with Seo-bi and Yeong-shin, helping where they can – assisting an old man up the ramps of one of the ships, catching a bale of straw as it falls off a cart, guiding a lost boy back to his father. All seems to be going well, and in good time, and Lee Chang smiles in approval at Mu-yeong.

“Were you given any trouble?” he asks, under his breath. Mu-yeong’s eyes darken, but he shakes his head. “Not much,” he murmurs in answer. “The commander’s mother tried to load her son onto the ship in a golden casket, but I caught it in time. Her son’s head is now separated from his shoulders, and they are both buried in the mass grave in the forest.”

These selfish fools, Lee Chang thinks to himself furiously, compromising the safety of everyone on board – and for what? Their petty honour and familial pride? These things matter little in a crisis of this magnitude – can they not understand that?

But instead of voicing his thoughts, he asks, “And the monsters?”

“We couldn’t burn them all. There were too many – their numbers appear to have more than doubled, likely from attacking some of the surrounding villages.”

“Your Highness!” comes the magistrate’s voice from somewhere in front of them, and Lee Chang turns, squinting through the dusk light to make out where he is. He is standing on the deck of one of the ships, excitedly waving. His adjutant is standing by him, an extremely sour expression on his face.

Cho Beom-pal tumbles down the ramp of his ship, almost tripping over his feet as he scurries over to Lee Chang and the rest of his group. He falls to his knees.

“Your Royal Highness!” he barks, lifting his head. “I, Cho Beom-pal, magistrate of Dongnae, have carried out your orders in full! We have loaded all our supplies and people onto the ships and are now ready to depart. We have saved you and your companions space on our last ship – it would be a great honour if you would join us on our vessel!”

“Your Highness,” Seo-bi says quietly, and Lee Chang turns to look at her. She is pointing towards a group of four peasants who are cowering on the ramp.

“Ah – we do not have enough space on the ships for some people,” Cho Beom-pal explains, scratching his head in embarrassment. “We could barely fit the food as it is… And your guard already stopped us from taking all our treasures and silks and accoutrements… There really isn’t any space left for more people.”

“If we do not board the ship, there will be space for those men, will there not?” Lee Chang says sternly. There is a sharp inhale from beside him, where Yeong-shin is standing.

“W-w-w-we?” stammers Cho Beom-pal, chancing a peek up at him from his prostrate position. “You mean – you and your companions will not be boarding the boat?”

“You, your adjutant, my guard and I,” Lee Chang says lowly. “As nobles of the Joseon kingdom, it is our duty to protect and serve the people. Those peasants have faced one night of death with courage and strength – they deserve to see many more nights. I trust that you have no issue with my plan?”

“No, Your Highness!” cries Cho Beom-pal. “We will – we will fetch our horses immediately!” He grovels for a bit more before hurrying away to his ship, eyes averted and head bowed.

“Your Highness!” Mu-yeong says from behind Lee Chang, and his voice is aghast. “It is not safe for you. You must board one of those boats and go to Sangju.”

Lee Chang looks at the peasants clutching each other on the ramp of the ship, their bodies thin and spindly, their clothes worn and ragged with the wear and tear of poverty. He thinks of his own childhood, spent clothed in silks and jade and regalia that would cost more than these peasants would ever see in a lifetime.

“I am different,” he says quietly in answer to Mu-yeong, the words slipping unbidden from him.

“Your Highness?” Mu-yeong asks, in disbelief.

“I am different from the petty, greedy officials of Dongnae,” Lee Chang says, his voice growing stronger and surer with every word he says, “and I am different from the Haewon Cho clan. I will not abandon these people, not in their time of need.”

There is a beat of silence as Mu-yeong stares at him, his mouth open. Then his mouth twists, almost a sad smile, but not quite, and he nods softly in acknowledgement.

“Your Highness,” comes Seo-bi’s soft voice from behind him. She meets his eyes for the first time, and he is taken aback by the iron will reflected there.

“I am a healer,” she says. “I will go with you.”

Lee Chang nods in acceptance, after a surprised pause. While it seems like a rash decision to make – she could, after all, be sailing in comfort and safety towards Sangju, instead of fleeing from the monsters on horseback, with little guarantee of survival – he appreciates the thought that must have gone into such a choice. And it would be no great loss – in fact, it would be a great advantage – to have such a steadfast woman at his side, especially one with knowledge of the healing arts.

“Your Highness,” says Yeong-shin, and it startles Lee Chang – this is the first time he has heard the title come from the man’s lips with so little pugnacity. “I am a tiger hunter. I would accompany you as well.”

“He needs no further guard,” Mu-yeong splutters, looking at him with intense dislike. “I am more than capable - ”

Lee Chang holds out his arm to stop him, for the distrustful glare Yeong-shin darts at the retreating back of Cho Beom-pal, and the figure of his assistant still standing atop the ship’s deck, speaks volumes.

“Then I would be honoured,” Lee Chang says softly, seriously, “to have you at my back.”

Yeong-shin looks at him, and his eyes are dark with some unreadable emotion, and he holds his gaze for a second too long, before finally he casts his eyes downward. In any other, it would seem like a gesture of obeisance and deference to one of a much higher station, but Lee Chang has the sneaking feeling that Yeong-shin holds little respect for the royals or nobles of the kingdom.

Unfortunately, Lee Chang has to agree with his bleak outlook, from what he has seen of the upper class so far, and he vows to himself that he will prove himself to be different.

Mu-yeong fetches enough supplies for the six of them to last the next few days. Cho Beom-pal returns with two steeds and his adjutant, whose expression – if it were even possible – is sourer than ever.

“You swore an oath to protect these people,” Lee Chang says, to the two of them, while he stares at the departing vessels. “You were supposed to be men of the people, but you turned your back on them. Did your oath mean nothing to you?”

“Your Highness!” wails the adjutant. The two of them fall to their knees yet again, and kowtow to him. “Forgive us our errors – we will not make that mistake again!”

“Get up,” he says harshly, already sick of their constant boot-licking. They are a tiresome lot, just like the other simpering officials back in Hanyang, and he wants to have nothing more to do with them. And yet they will have to spend the rest of the next few days together. Already he is beginning to regret his decision to bring them along – but he’d be damned if he were to allow them safe passage on the ship without repercussions for their earlier cowardice.

“Your Highness, there is no time now, we must ride to Sangju,” says Yeong-shin urgently, from beside him. The sky is turning a dark foreboding purple, and the sun is sinking below the horizon. In his mind Lee Chang can already hear the awful moans of the undead monsters.

“Right,” he answers, quietly. “We ride to Sangju.”