Chapter 44
At that moment.
Grand General Orchai, strutting proudly after receiving Khan’s gift, happened to meet Turegen Utukhu leaving the imperial palace. The latter effusively offered his congratulations.
“Grand General, allow this Utukhu to offer you a cup in celebration of your victorious campaign.”
Normally, Orchai held the Turegen household in contempt, as they were one of the western tribes. But turning away a congratulatory toast felt awkward with so many eyes around.
Feigning humility, Utukhu led him into Manhwagak, one of the most famous taverns in the capital. The owner clearly knew Utukhu well—without needing any introduction, they were ushered into the finest private room, no questions asked.
“Please, please, take this cup. As a fellow man of arms, I have long admired the Grand General’s martial prowess. To be able to serve you today—what an honor it is!”
He was practically dancing with his tongue.
To the aging Orchai, Utukhu’s flattery and antics weren’t unpleasant. After all, his disdain for the Turegen family had never been rooted in deep conviction. As long as they wagged their tongues like obedient servants, there was no reason to spit them out.
“Best not linger. If the Khan were to know, he’d be displeased. I’ll empty this cup and be on my way.”
Yet he still made sure to say such words, a thin veil over his testing tone. Inwardly, he thought, All right, let’s see how far this fool is willing to go with his tricks.
Sure enough, Utukhu threw up his hands in mock alarm.
“Ah, Grand General, you jest! True, His Majesty dislikes when civil and military officials gather privately and too often—but only because such people harbor seditious intentions, forming factions. Isn’t that so?”
Suddenly, like an actor changing roles, Utukhu straightened and assumed a solemn expression.
“As for me, I only wish to thank the Grand General as a subject of the Empire for subduing Jindan. Not once has it crossed my mind to cling to your coattails or curry favor.”
Lies so smooth he doesn’t even bother to wet his lips first, Orchai thought.
Though his mind had dulled somewhat with age, he was still a veteran of both battlefield and court. It would be absurd to think he couldn’t see through Utukhu’s shallow ploys.
Utukhu went on:
“It is merely a toast of congratulations. If I had some hidden request, why would I have brought along them?”
By “them,” he meant the musicians and dancers who had accompanied them.
Orchai nearly sneered, ready to say that such lowly people wouldn’t understand even if they overheard—but instead, he simply drained his cup and asked:
“Tell me then—what brings you, who should be guarding the western borders, here to the capital? Don’t tell me you came only to congratulate me.”
“Oh, Grand General! Of course not. Though I hold command as regional general of the West, these days both Gosan and Bongang are quiet. There’s little to be done.”
Gosan and Bongang were the names of two sizable states beyond the Empire’s western frontier.
The leader of Bongang, in fact, had grown powerful enough to consider declaring himself king about a year ago. But then a sudden plague of livestock had decimated both his armies and his administration, and it had taken him time to recover.
“The resilience of Bongang is remarkable—the Khan himself was surprised. We must keep a close eye on them.”
“Indeed, without question.”
Even while bowing, Utukhu grumbled inwardly:
Old man, already on the verge of retirement, yet still nagging. My sister has lost favor; I thought to latch onto him for a lifeline, but…
From Orchai’s expression, it was clear tonight he’d get nothing.
Deflated, Utukhu’s complaints began spilling out like a child’s whining.
“Though the barracks are quiet, the common folk, those fools… every day they come crying and complaining—I can hardly bear it!”
“So there is trouble. Managing the provinces is still governance. If those above do their duties properly, what grievances could rise from below?”
In other words: It’s your mismanagement.
Utukhu forced down his irritation, pouring more wine into Orchai’s empty cup.
“Grand General, that is unfair. Not once have I squandered so much as a grain of military rations. You know how other local generals plunder the granaries to decorate their mansions in luxury.”
In truth, Utukhu himself was just as guilty, but Orchai only nodded slightly.
“Yet they accuse me—say I levy taxes too harshly, that I live in luxury on their backs, and that they must petition the Khan! All because of the canal project, which requires more funds than usual.”
Orchai stroked his beard, frowning.
“True enough. Once people grow comfortable, they forget gratitude. They only demand more, endlessly climbing and grasping.”
“Exactly! And tell me, do I benefit from the canal? It’s for their good, not mine! It’s not as if money to dig the earth falls from the sky. Why, I’ve even put in some of my own fortune—yet all I hear are complaints. Truly disheartening.”
Of course, that “personal fortune” was an investment: once the dam on the lower Itun River was complete, he and others would profit.
The plan was simple: build the dam, divert water from the south into the western provinces, creating several large lakes. Those lakes would then be jointly owned by the project backers, their shares proportional to their investment. And from every water channel flowing out, they could collect tolls—a steady stream of wealth for generations.
Sounds rather convincing, Utukhu mused.
The contracts were signed, the negotiations settled. It was all certain.
And yet, he wasn’t entirely pleased.
If only I’d squeezed more money out of my sister before her fall, I could’ve claimed a greater share…
Though he had siphoned off plenty in grain and taxes, others seemed to have endless wealth to pour into the project. At this rate, even if the lakes were formed, when would he ever see profit?
So he grumbled without thinking whom he sat before.
Listening, Orchai suddenly lowered his voice.
“This canal business… did it receive official sanction?”
At once, Utukhu snapped to attention, nodding furiously.
“Of course! It has full government approval, and even the local authorities in the affected regions have granted permits.”
“Hmm. Then there should be no problem…”
Orchai lapsed into thought, forgetting even his empty cup. The steaming dish of roasted nightingale—his favorite—went untouched.
“This canal,” he said at last.
“Yes? Ah—yes?”
“Have all the investors filled their shares?”
“Eh? No, no!”
Utukhu barely restrained his grin from splitting his face.
“Grand General… could it be that you are interested?”
“What use has an old man like me for wealth? But my sons… tch tch. Born into a warrior’s household, yet none of them amount to much. It worries me.”
Had Utukhu been a fool, he might have dismissed this as the whining of an old man. But when it came to feeding his greed, he was cunning and perceptive.
“Grand General, you do yourself a disservice. You are still in your prime! I know well of your frugality, but life is lived but once. Can one truly pass through it without grasping at some of its rewards?”
