Chapter 45
“The Great General has spent his entire life standing on the dangerous frontlines for the Dar Empire. Shouldn’t he now enjoy a peaceful old age?”
At Utuhō’s words, Orchai’s expression turned strange.
The gazes directed at Utuhō carried the same nuance—this fellow neglects his duties, only thinking of his own profit, yet his tongue certainly spins fine words.
Utuhō, for his part, clearly saw that Orchai was already swallowing his spit, wavering like a fox that wanted to leap but still glanced around, weighing both sides.
There was hardly any need to call it a probing match—their cards had been laid out from the very start. But no matter how it looked, the advantage leaned toward Utuhō.
If Orchai had wanted to protect his honor, he should never have brought up the subject of shares in the canal at all.
Even if curiosity had led him so far, he should have at least replied that he had no interest.
But a moment of greed, a moment of helplessness, sealed his lips.
In his younger days, Orchai had begun as a mere commander and, with each war he fought, steadily built merit. At last, he received directly from Khan Astrakhan the honorary title of Hastai (the noble and brave one).
And now, nearing retirement, he had finally risen to the rank of Great General.
He was known as an upright, incorruptible warrior. Precisely because of that, he had long enjoyed the Khan’s special favor. He had never accepted bribes, never made requests out of desperation, and took pride in that fact throughout both his youth and later years.
Yet as age crept in, the years he had let slip away seemed to shine brighter in memory, leaving behind only emptiness and futility.
His salary was ample, and he owned a twenty-three-room house bestowed by the Khan.
If he had wanted, he could have expanded his household many times over, but since it was personally gifted by the Khan, he considered it auspicious and never moved away. Even so, his life had been without discomfort.
The problem lay with his children.
Orchai had seven children in total: four from his legal wife, one from a concubine, and two from another concubine.
His wife had borne him three sons and one daughter, so her position was firm regardless of how many concubines there were. But the trouble was that none of the three sons were particularly promising.
The eldest was interested in martial arts but too slow of body to rise far in rank. The second had his nose in books since childhood but lacked fortune, never managing to secure even a modest official post, spending all his days shut inside the house.
The daughter has already married out, and as for the youngest son—third by the wife but youngest among all siblings…
The mere thought of him was headache-inducing. A troublemaker.
Of the concubines’ children, one daughter was at least intelligent, but the wife loathed her and sent her far away in marriage. The remaining sons were all mediocre—none capable of bringing honor to the family name.
In such circumstances, what would happen when he retired and received only a reduced pension?
Though his eldest and second sons were already married, neither had established separate households. If he had to provide for them, their wives, and his grandchildren under one roof, he might one day be forced to sell household goods just to survive.
Yes, perhaps this is the last opportunity granted to me in old age. No matter how useless my sons may be, I cannot cast them onto the streets to beg.
But deep down, Orchai knew.
Even if he retired, the heavens would fall before his sons were reduced to begging.
This was his own desire—for a luxurious, secure twilight of life.
“…Yes. What you say is true.”
Orchai muttered ambiguously, as though speaking to Utuhō, or perhaps to himself.
“A peaceful old age. There’s nothing better for an old man, is there?”
“That is why I speak, General. If you were not who you are, I would not have dared suggest it.”
“Ha! You man… So then, how much must one invest?”
“That depends entirely on how smooth and comfortable you wish your old age to be. But in today’s market, you will need no less than ten bars of gold to secure a worthwhile stake.”
“Ten bars of gold, hmm…”
“If you resolve your heart, I can mediate everything. Just leave it to me.”
Ten gold bars—an ordinary commoner could never dream of such a sum. Yet when he thought of his own retirement, and of his children’s future, it seemed modest.
“…I will inspect the position first, but let us say I will prepare thirty bars.”
Utuhō’s mouth nearly split open to his ears with delight.
“As expected, the Great General is generous and decisive. Please, do not spurn this young man’s toast.”
“Ha ha! Come now. From this day, you and I share the same boat—why speak so humbly?”
Inside the secret chamber of the Manhwagak, the sound of mellow music mingled with booming laughter that spilled out even beyond the doors.
The next day, just past noon—at a time when she would normally be practicing swordsmanship—Argana remained shut in her quarters, skipping her meal and immersing herself in medical texts.
She read them for one reason only: her father’s illness.
Adding to the advice given by the physician Chaihan of the Su-tai, she had even procured new books.
The classics say nothing more than what Su-tai already explained. The newer writings only treat mild ailments. Their preventive measures are varied, but none useful for this…
She closed her eyes with a sigh, then straightened her posture as she heard the curtain rustle.
The visitor was Barta. After offering her salute, she approached Argana.
“Have you looked into it?”
At Argana’s quiet question, Barta nodded.
“There was no need to investigate too closely. Word has already spread among the palace servants—Prince Yoshimut rages day and night like a madman.”
“Hmph. Still hasn’t come to his senses.”
“They say he cannot even tell friend from foe. If anyone so much as speaks to him, he looks ready to kill. None dare approach him.”
“What nonsense—what does he know of distinguishing friend from foe? If no one enters or leaves, so much the better.”
With that, Argana turned back to the medical text and skimmed the table of contents.
“Any news of Great General Orchai?”
“There is.”
Argana lifted her head.
“That was fast.”
“Yesterday, when the General left the palace, witnesses saw him meet General Utuhō of the Turegén household and head to a tavern.”
“Did you say Utuhō of Turegén?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Without mistake.”
Well now, isn’t this amusing. Argana gave a short laugh and pushed the book aside.
“They say he stayed for quite a while?”
“Over three or four watches, I hear.”
“That is a long time for a mere exchange of drinks.”
“Could it be that the General seeks to ally with House Turegén?”
It was not impossible—but highly unlikely.
There had to be something more. Otherwise, how could one as proud as Orchai spend hours in the company of a petty general from House Turegén?
“Shall I inquire further, Princess?”
When Argana did not reply, Barta asked anxiously. But Argana only leaned forward and shook her head.
“No. I must think on this… Barta, summon Kartak for me.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Barta immediately withdrew. Argana inhaled the soft incense wafting from the burner, sinking into thought.
Though Orchai could not have been ignorant of Yoshimut’s crimes, he brushed aside his youngest son’s faults as though they never existed, all while undermining or stealing Tu-hua’s merits.
That could be dismissed as the stubbornness of an old man.
But to suddenly associate with Turegén?
There was surely more behind this.
