Seeing Hyang’s surprised expression, Sejong smiled lightly and replied.
“What’s so surprising? Though I sit on the throne, I am still a father. I know my children’s temperaments. No, especially because I am king, I had to know them even better.”
“Ah…”
At Sejong’s answer, Hyang nodded.
Princes were paradoxical beings.
For a country’s stable continuation, it was good to have many princes. That way, even if the first in line died in an unfortunate accident, the succession could continue stably.
On the other hand, having many princes meant having many competitors, increasing the likelihood of fratricidal strife over the throne.
That’s why Hyang was also paying close attention to managing his own children, including the brothers Wan and Dusul.
‘At least I’ve secured some peace by firmly establishing the succession structure in the constitution…’
After briefly muttering to himself, Hyang asked Sejong.
“What did you think of Jinpyeong, Father?”
“Like a wild boar.”
“Pardon?”
“A wild boar excels only at charging. No, once it begins a charge, it doesn’t look left or right. Isn’t Jinpyeong’s temperament exactly like that? When it comes to railways.”
At Sejong’s words, Hyang nodded with a wry smile.
“That’s true.”
‘When rebels attacked the palace, the first thing he asked upon arrival was whether the railways were safe…’
After moistening his throat lightly with black tea, Sejong continued.
“With Jinpyeong’s temperament, he would stage a rebellion for the sake of railways to which he has dedicated his life. Knowing this temperament, hasn’t the Emperor continually kept Jinpyeong deployed externally, focusing solely on railways?”
“That’s correct.”
At Hyang’s affirmation, Sejong spoke to him with a serious face.
“The Emperor must never lose his health. Only then can the Crown Prince, who has received the abdication, safely consolidate imperial power.”
“What?”
To Hyang’s puzzled look, Sejong explained in more detail.
“Even a wild boar that charges without regard to its surroundings will stop its charge before a tiger. To Jinpyeong now, the Emperor is that tiger. It would be a grave mistake to feel secure just because you’ve taken Jinpyeong to the New Frontier.”
At Sejong’s words, Hyang immediately bowed his head and answered.
“I will engrave this in my bones and heart.”
‘It reminds me of Teacher Samcheonpo after a long time.’
-You know what? Even the mighty Prince Suyang was diligent in rubbing his palms before King Munjong. While outside, Suyang was busy showing off his martial prowess wearing clothes with sleeves cut to the shoulders, before Munjong he repeatedly exclaimed ‘Brother is the best!’ If Munjong hadn’t died so quickly, Suyang would have ended up as just one of many princes!
Hyang once again awakened his vigilance regarding Jinpyeong.
***
After organizing somewhat the talent that would go with Hyang from Joseon to the New Frontier, Hyang asked Sejong.
“It’s truly regrettable that Jang Yeong-sil has died.”
“I agree.”
To Hyang’s words full of regret, Sejong also answered with a similar expression.
For Hyang and Sejong, especially for Hyang, Jang Yeong-sil was like ‘MacGyver’s Swiss Army knife.’ Just by creating and handing over a rough conceptual diagram, somehow a proper blueprint and model would be created.
Almost all of Hyang’s many inventions, already evaluated as legendary in the world, had come into existence through Jang Yeong-sil’s hands.
“After his last visit to the mainland, he weakened rapidly.”
“I bear much of the blame.”
At Hyang’s self-reproach, Sejong shook his head.
“That’s not so. Even he himself didn’t know his exact birth year. He only knew he was approximately seventy. And in his youth, he suffered as a government slave, and as he aged, he continuously worked in places filled with harsh fire energy and iron energy… He himself said it was his time to go.”
“Did you witness his final moments?”
At Hyang’s question, Sejong nodded.
“Though his origins were problematic, he was more loyal than anyone, so if I didn’t go, who would? Especially since he had no wife or children besides the disciples he taught…”
In the history both before and after Hyang’s intervention, Jang Yeong-sil’s existence was truly mysterious.
There were no remaining records of when he was born or when he died, and no information about his family existed.
“Still, the regret is great. Whether someone with his level of skill will emerge in the future…”
At Hyang’s words, Sejong slightly smiled and responded.
“When you go to the New Frontier, you will see Jang Yeong-sil’s final work.”
“What? Please tell me more about what you mean.”
“There is something that will be Jang Yeong-sil’s end and the Emperor’s beginning. Of course, you might have a headache over budget issues.”
Despite Hyang’s request, Sejong just kept smiling mysteriously without explaining further.
***
Imperial Year 11 (1459), May.
With the Dano Festival just around the corner, the abdication proceeded.
In front of Geunjeong Hall, with all civil and military officials gathered, Hyang passed the throne to Wan.
After the abdication ceremony, the front courtyard of Geunjeong Hall transformed into a banquet venue.
It was a banquet attended by everyone from the imperial family as well as officials.
In the center of the banquet hall, gisaeng (female entertainers) considered the best throughout the Empire were showcasing their singing and dancing skills.
From among the most popular gisaeng at the comprehensive entertainment venues that had now become common even in Liaodong, these were gisaeng carefully selected by An Pyeong, who had somehow earned the nickname ‘Entertainment Duke.’
While the attendees were enjoying the singing and dancing of these gisaeng, whose beauty could confidently be counted among the top in the Empire, a different atmosphere was unfolding at the head table.
“Will you depart in two days, Your Majesty?”
At Wan’s question, Hyang nodded lightly.
“Yes. Since I’ve already sent my belongings, I’ll depart right away in two days.”
“Does this mean I won’t be able to see you often now? That’s regrettable.”
At Wan’s words, Hyang smiled wryly and responded.
“The Emperor seeing me frequently wouldn’t be a very good thing, would it?”
“…”
At Hyang’s words, Wan closed his mouth. As Hyang said, among the situations that would require the Former Emperor in the New Frontier to move, almost the only good one would be the imperial wedding of his eldest son, who was now invested as Crown Prince.
If so, the rest would mostly be matters related to the Empire’s security that he couldn’t decide alone and would need the Former Emperor Hyang’s advice.
Seeing Wan’s expression, Hyang added.
“It wouldn’t be good for the Emperor if I, who will be in the New Frontier, had to come often. All decisions must be made by the Emperor alone. Intervention by me or the Grand Emperor would only erode imperial authority.”
At Hyang’s advice, Wan bowed his head and replied.
“I will engrave this in my bones and heart.”
Not long after, with a decent amount of alcohol in his system, Wan asked Hyang a question.
“By the way… since the New Frontier is said to be vast, there must be plenty of places to test gliders and flying machines, right?”
“There should be.”
At Hyang’s answer, Wan’s eyes brightened.
“I’m looking forward to 10 years from now!”
At Wan’s words, Hyang asked mischievously.
“Is 10 years really feasible?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Hyang continued his explanation, counting on his fingers.
“Let’s see… The Crown Prince is 10 years old this year, so it will take 4 years until he comes of age, and to complete his educational process, at least 2 more years should be added, and the time it takes to marry and see a grandson… That’s for Heaven to decide, so let’s skip it. Anyway, it will take at least 6 years before he can be entrusted with the management of the research institute and Area 51, and he should endure at least 5 years there before moving to regency, right? Then the time spent as regent is at least 5 years… Hmm… It would take at least 16 years? But if we’re setting a timeframe, wouldn’t it be better to make it a clean 20 years rather than cutting it off awkwardly? So it’s 20 years.”
At Hyang’s calculation, Wan just blinked his eyes. Of course, inwardly he was fiercely calculating to refute Hyang’s estimation.
‘Damn it! There’s no weak spot! No weak spot…’
After fervently racking his brains to find a loophole, Wan soon smiled triumphantly.
“I should issue an empire-wide marriage ban soon.”
“A marriage ban? Why?”
“If the Crown Prince marries quickly and produces a grandson, wouldn’t it be easier to put him to work from then on?”
“…”
Closing his mouth at Wan’s words, Hyang grumbled inwardly.
‘Could this lead to early marriage becoming an imperial tradition?’
Interestingly, Hyang’s prediction hit the mark. Even in an era when late marriage became the norm, the imperial family still promoted marriage as soon as someone came of age.
Meanwhile, Sejong, who was sitting next to them listening to Wan and Hyang’s conversation, burst into laughter.
“Hahaha!”
‘Now this son will understand my feelings! The boy who always slipped away like a loach is getting a taste of his own medicine!’
“Hahaha!”
Sejong couldn’t contain his laughter.
***
Three months later, Hyang finally arrived in the New Frontier.
“Four months even on a steamship… We’ll definitely need to overhaul the steam engines.”
Disembarking from the ship, Hyang stretched lightly and grumbled.
It wasn’t a direct voyage from Wonsan to the New Frontier; the journey included visits to Daesoul Island and other northern islands to meet residents and comfort officials. Additionally, time spent stranded due to bad weather in between contributed to the four-month journey.
But even considering all that, four months was too long, and Hyang chose to improve the steam engines as a solution.
After arriving at Chosi (初市, First Market), the bridgehead of the New Frontier, and recovering from the journey’s fatigue, Hyang’s party soon began moving eastward.
Fortunately, railways had already been laid from Chosi to “Mishigamaa” (the Native American name for Michigan), the eastern center.
“The Grand Emperor placed the greatest emphasis on railway construction.”
“Railways are absolutely necessary to properly digest the New Frontier.”
Nodding at the official’s explanation, Hyang looked at Jinpyeong, who was only examining maps beside him.
“What do you think would be the best approach?”
At Hyang’s question, Jinpyeong, who had been examining the map, immediately answered.
“First, I believe we need to expand the east-west transcontinental railway connecting Chosi and Mishigamaa. Currently, steam trains travel on a single track. Although there’s no major problem now with only one train service per day, thinking of the future, we should expand to at least a double track.”
“That would be the natural course. Then what’s the problem?”
At Hyang’s question, Jinpyeong immediately replied.
“The problem is manpower.”
“The problem is manpower, not budget?”
“With the reparations coming in from Ming, the budget isn’t a major issue, but manpower is problematic. Construction in the Northern Territory hasn’t finished yet, and we need to send more and more manpower to Suez. We don’t have manpower to spare.”
At Jinpyeong’s observation, Hyang turned to the official present.
“Those who built this railway should be fine, are we keeping the workers well?”
“Yes. We’re retaining skilled workers as maintenance staff. And if you need additional manpower, reinforcements can be provided as quickly as possible. The residents of the New Frontier enjoy working on railways.”
At the official’s answer, Hyang immediately asked back.
“Is it the government monopoly?”
“It is the government monopoly.”