03. Born as Admiral Chungmugong’s Grandson (2)
“What are you saying, sir?”
“How could young boys and girls be rolling around together by the river? You must be the one who incited them. What are your names? I will hold your elders accountable for such disrespect!”
“Please, do not insult our elders!”
Despite their young age, one of the children seemed to immediately understand that even their family could be criticized and stepped forward, shouting. Still, though he appeared spirited, the way his neck shrank back as he spoke was clear for anyone to see.
Meanwhile, the man, clearly in his thirties, was dressed in elegant clothing, the kind of attire a distinguished scholar or noble would wear. Perhaps he was a yangban visiting Pyongyang.
Naturally, the children, already hearing the term “orphan,” felt even more intimidated.
But wait—how is it that this nobleman is wandering around without any attendants? Are you also some kind of vagabond?
“Ahem, how dare you shout rudely at an adult! Who are your elders, that you behave this way?”
“We are from the Yi family of Pyongyang.”
“Yi? Do you think there are only a few Yis in Pyongyang? The Yi family is everywhere in Joseon.”
I stepped forward, placing the children behind me, and responded.
The man scanned me up and down and, while reprimanding, did not mention his own name or family, instead asking about mine.
Whether he was arrogant or insane, one of the two seemed certain.
If he were the former, his pride could bring shame to his family.
Rather than getting into trouble, it was better to bow slightly. So I spoke with polite composure, though I let a hint of defiance show. Children could be a little insolent. If he had a problem with it, he was the younger one.
“Sir, I do not know who you are, but I have given my family name. Should you not also introduce yourself?”
“Ho, how audacious. Very well. I am Kim Gijong of the Kim family of Gangneung. Before taking the civil service exam, I came to Pyongyang alone to maintain my peace of mind. I have witnessed such a despicable scene and ask for clarification.”
“I am Yi Seong of the Deoksu Yi family. My father is Lee Hun, the Middle Army Officer, and the elder you mention is my great-uncle, Lee Wan, Commander of the Pyeongan Provincial Army.”
Kim Gijong, perhaps realizing he had met his match, stopped speaking after I answered calmly, though he had tried to assert his family’s prestige over someone twenty years younger.
I restrained the urge to slap him, taking a deep breath, and responded at the same level.
“You may not know, sir, but as I have disclosed my family, should you not also do the same?”
He seemed to have a glimmer of satisfaction at having been given a legitimate excuse and quickly followed up.
“Are you not neglecting study?”
Even though this was the 17th century, a time when civil service exams were taken even at thirty or forty, Joseon still placed extreme value on scholarship.
It was a national principle that young ones must study. His expression, revealing all his emotions, showed he was not destined for great things.
Indeed, if he were meant for greatness, he would not be wandering the banks of the Taedong River at his age, but serving in government office.
“Although this concerns Pyeongan and my sons, these are the children’s affairs. Must I report everything to you?”
“Father?”
I was about to respond, when my father arrived on horseback, accompanied by soldiers.
Ah, the Pyongyang army is even moving through here?
“And who are you, to be lecturing children in broad daylight?”
“I….”
“I am their father, Lee Hun, Middle Army Officer.”
“…I am Kim Gijong from Seoul. I merely found it troubling that the children were neglecting their studies, so I tried to guide them.”
“Is that so? To provide guidance even to children, admirable indeed. Where are you stationed? Someone with such talent and virtue must surely have succeeded in life; I must hear from you properly one day.”
“…Due to the war, I have been busy fulfilling my duties to the state.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
At the mention of performing loyalty and righteousness during the war, my father’s eyes gleamed. Then, as he dismounted, he gave a subtle wink with his right eye—a secret signal to tease me.
If I had remained silent, half the victory would have been mine. Why give the excuse of the war? Poor Gijong had picked the wrong response.
“To meet someone who served in the war… what a fortune. I myself served under the Duke of Deokpung, and the arriving Middle Army Officer did the same. Where were you stationed?”
“…That is a family matter, I cannot speak lightly.”
“Ah, he misspoke. Anyway, it was because the children were negligent in their studies, yes?”
“Correct.”
“Seong-a, have you been studying diligently?”
Kim Gijong, unable to give a clear answer, looked down. His clenched fist trembled with frustration.
I noticed this and then heard my father respond, nodding slightly while speaking in a slightly louder voice than usual.
“Yes, he has.”
“What did Confucius say are the nine essentials for governing a nation?”
“In the Doctrine of the Mean: cultivate oneself, honor one’s parents, and maintain family relations. Be loyal and respect superiors, care for subordinates, govern the people, manage the household, attend to local affairs, and stabilize society.”
“From the look of it, he has completed today’s study. How does Kim sir judge this?”
“…It appears so. Despite his age, he shows remarkable understanding.”
It was the Kim family’s surrender.
Yet, Kim Gijong’s hand remained tightly clenched, pale as though blood had drained—refusing to fully admit defeat.
Had I asked, “Do you think he will succeed in life, sir?” it would have been utter humiliation—but conscience forbade it.
Gijong, do not despair. Your opponent is me.
The unwelcome guest, Kim, promptly departed after my father suggested he need not take up the busy officer’s time. I watched the flowing hem of his robe disappear and smiled in satisfaction.
“I told the officer what you said.”
“Is that so? What did he say?”
“He said it was indeed an important method. He even asked Kim, with his military experience, and agreed: nothing beats the spear in countering cavalry. That is why you are training the children this way, yes?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Children under ten could not yet wield a 5–6 meter spear. But with strength, stamina, and toughness training, it would soon be possible.
While training Pyeongan’s army was important, training these children was just as crucial. These children would follow, even if the others did not.
“But, according to the author, having even one girl with the boys could be dangerous, right?”
“There is a girl, but her skill in handling the palace is exceptional. Though she lacks strength, her determination is extraordinary.”
Kim Gijong was not entirely wrong. Even among children, separating boys and girls made sense in a strict Confucian society.
My moral standards were scandalous by 17th-century Joseon measures, while my father’s caution was natural.
“Regardless, it is commendable that even at a young age you strive to serve the nation. Let them be and see what they accomplish.”
“Fortunately. I thought you might oppose it.”
“It is for the sake of the nation, is it not?”
Serving the nation…
In reality, it was more about repaying the family that fed, clothed, and raised me.
The nation was doomed, and my family was to perish.
I could not simply proclaim I would “reverse fate.” Some method was needed to survive the invasion.
This was not a problem for me. If it saved my family, why worry?
Of course, if Joseon benefited and I gained office, it was an added bonus.
“Yes, both of you are elders. Supporting this and caring for family is in fact serving the nation.”
“Indeed, admirable. So, you truly study while doing this?”
“…Up! Everyone rise! Do it again!”
The children groaned as break time ended, unwilling to continue.
Fine, enough airing out. Now, let’s try again. Father, thank you, but now it is time for physical training—please step aside.
“When I return, I will check how far you have studied in the classics.”
“Ugh.”
To overturn the war and save my family, I would do whatever was necessary.
Those were the only two priorities.
So, studying could wait. Please understand, Father.
“Did they really resist cavalry that way in Japan?”
“Yes, sir. Are you asking after hearing the young master’s words?”
“Yes. Junsa, what do you think?”
“Across the sea, soldiers used long spears, yari, to strike down enemies. This was a general combat method and for countering cavalry.”
Low-ranking soldiers in Japan, called ashigaru, were armed with long spears, averaging over 4 meters, sometimes exceeding 6 meters in elite units.
As Yi Seong said, Japanese soldiers used long spears—but not all the same way.
“The Japanese soldiers struck from wider spacing with spear tips down,” Junsa explained.
“What did Seong say?”
“That they must be closer. Otherwise, gaps appear for cavalry, making it ineffective.”
Even if the Japanese infantry used spears, a skilled unit did not form overnight—it took prolonged warfare.
Moreover, a single spear unit did not instantly neutralize Joseon cavalry. Longer spears restricted movement, simplifying attacks to downstrokes. Wide spacing was required, making a breakthrough devastating once it occurred.
“Seong also knows that you cannot simply create skilled infantry,” Junsa added.
“Yes, so he asked how to concentrate fire if the spear lines cannot be denser.”
“Concentrate fire? You mean with more firearms?”
“No. It concerned the current gunners. Why perform aiming shots with matchlocks as if they were bows? They are fundamentally different.”
A matchlock is not a bow. Its range and accuracy are far inferior. Thus, if spear lines are insufficient, gunners must supplement them.
“To concentrate fire with gunners… What do you think, Kim sir?”
“I dare say, the young master has extraordinary military insight. Sir, what do you think?”
“To change small things to achieve great results—what prodigy could compare?”
Though it seemed trivial to me, Lee Wan saw it as revolutionary. Indeed, his nephew was clearly a genius.
