The regent’s appearance upended all of the brothers’ plans.

  At first it seemed that he favored Yi Hyun, but then he suddenly remembered Yi Yun as well — the one he had happened to meet more than twenty years earlier. And now the “envoy” smiled affably, joked, and told cheerful stories to both great princes, undermining Yi Hyun’s hopes for the title of heir.

  Yi Yun began to avoid the palace altogether and threw himself into the investigation of those ridiculous pills. Anything was better than repeatedly catching the regent’s eye and inventing reasons to refuse yet another feast.

  Perhaps he should have played the fool and somehow lowered himself in the eyes of the embassy? It was a pity Yi Yun had not thought of that earlier and had missed the chance to pretend that he did not speak Chinese.

  Meanwhile, the investigation led north. That merchant had mentioned Anju, and even before that back in autumn the General Inspector had sent a man there. Recently they had received a report about the suspicious behavior of the magistrate of that city, but many officials were corrupt. Corruption and poor administration alone did not yet prove the magistrate’s involvement in the trade of intoxicating pills. Yi Yun hoped that the inspector’s next report would shed more light on what was happening.

  In the capital, the celebrations in honor of the arriving embassy continued. It was obvious that the king was straining every effort to please the unexpected guest and to obtain recognition of the crown prince. Yi Hyun was run ragged, organizing reception after reception.

  Faithful to his father’s wishes, Yi Yun diligently but not always successfully tried to avoid them.

  The usually quiet and austere palace of Gyeongbokgung suddenly became crowded, noisy, and hectic. Groups of brightly dressed musicians with cumbersome instruments hurried somewhere; the kitchens smelled of roasting meat; drums thundered, and the strained, creaking singing of gayageum strings could be heard. Once, Yi Yun even noticed a shaman woman leaving the palace.

  Two days before the embassy’s expected departure, a royal hunt was announced. None of the princes had yet received the coveted patent, and everyone was convinced that the hunt would be the decisive moment in choosing the heir. Because of his poor health, the king could not personally accompany the guests into the snow-covered forest, and the two elder princes, with a large escort, set out to entertain them themselves.

  Yi Yun decided that this was his moment to shine. He had long intended to demonstrate his martial skills, presenting himself as a man sharp and lacking in subtlety. A hunt was perfectly suited for that.

  While Hyun stayed close to the regent, watching over his safety and politely laughing at his jokes, Yi Yun rode through the undergrowth with a squad of familiar guards, whooping loudly. Twice they flushed a deer, and both times Yi Yun managed to shoot it before the regent could take up his bow. At last the regent seemed sufficiently angered and, with a broad gesture, sent Hyun toward the elder prince.

  “The envoy has expressed a wish to take part in the hunt,” Hyun reported, riding closer. It was unlikely anyone could hear them, but it was better not to risk using the regent’s name.

  “Oh, have I annoyed him?” Yi Yun bared his teeth in something like a smile, rose slightly in the saddle, and waved to the regent. The regent briefly inclined his head.

  “Do not overdo it,” Hyun lowered his voice. “We do not want to provoke him, trust me.”

  “Do you think this is enough?” Yi Yun said doubtfully. “He does not seem like a fool. If such a trifle can offend him…”

  “He is by no means a fool,” Hyun shook his head. “But he is ardent, like all of them. Yield him the next deer, I beg you.”

  “Very well, if you think that is better,” Yi Yun drawled, still uncertain. “You can go back and tell him that I said he should shoot faster if he expects to claim the prey.”

  “Elder brother!” Hyun gasped, imagining the regent’s fury.

  “Or you can not tell him,” Yi Yun laughed. Riding, tracking game, the early morning in the snowy mountains, and the sun glinting gold on the icy crust stirred him, making him feel alive. “Do as you see fit. I will support you.”

  “Then leave the next quarry to him,” Hyun asked firmly, and Yi Yun nodded in agreement. The forest intoxicated them with the scent of cold freshness and approaching spring.

  Perhaps he should not have given his brother promises so lightly.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The beaters found tracks and began beating drums to drive the animal out, but instead of a deer, a massive boar with red eyes and matted gray bristles burst out at the relaxed hunters. Prince Rui let out a delighted shout and urged his horse forward. Yi Yun, who had ridden rather far off, realized that an arrow was unlikely to wound such a beast effectively and turned back toward the foot guards to fetch a spear. Hyun watched what was happening, biting his lip. He surely understood that he could not intervene without offending the regent even more. But the regent was armed only with a useless bow!

  Meanwhile, Prince Rui loosed several arrows into the beast — they stuck in its withers, swaying with every step. It was obvious that the regent was deliberately enraging the boar further, luring it away from the courtiers dressed in silk and fur. The boar roared and charged at its tormentor. The regent spurred his horse and galloped between the sparse trees toward the field. Both princes, without a word, rushed after him. Yi Yun even managed to get hold of a spear, but he lost several precious moments and now lagged desperately behind.

  The regent’s horse veered off the path and tore straight through the forest. When it passed under a low branch, forgetting about its rider, Yi Yun squeezed his eyes shut for an instant. The regent, however, merely leaned back against the horse’s croup and sent another arrow into the boar while lying flat. Yi Yun had never seen such skill in a living man.

  The riders burst out onto an open field, disturbing its smooth white expanse.

  Yi Yun lost sight of the regent while forcing his way through the bushes, but the churned snow allowed him to quickly pick up the trail again. The prince’s stallion trotted out from behind the trees, breaking into a gallop, and then Yi Yun’s heart skipped a beat. The mad Manchu had leapt from the saddle straight onto the boar’s back.

  Man and beast were locked in a mortal struggle. Hyun reined in his horse, clearly not understanding how to help Prince Rui. Yi Yun tightened his grip on the spear, bent low to his horse’s neck, and heard the wind whistle in his ears. Make it in time, make it in time!

  The moments stretched unbearably long. When his stallion finally caught up with the prey and the hunter, both had already fallen still. Yi Yun exchanged an anxious glance with his brother, dismounted, and cautiously approached the gray heap in the trampled circle. If the regent was dead, it was the beginning of the bloodiest war in Joseon’s history.

  Then the heap stirred. Prince Rui, grunting, crawled out from under the carcass pinning him down, smeared the blood from his face with his elbow, tossed his braid back over his shoulder, and straightened. In his hand he clenched a curved dagger.

  “Thank you for leaving the real prey to me, Yun,” he bared his teeth.

  Yi Yun, standing there with his spear, felt very foolish. And for the first time in many years, he felt fear of a person. Not anxiety for a brother or a father, not disgust at someone’s plotting, but simple, animal fear before brute force. The kind that gathers like a cold stone low in the belly and makes the legs refuse to move. Yi Yun had not known that anyone could frighten him like this. But he also had not known that someone could kill an enraged wild boar alone, with nothing but a dagger.

  He found no words and simply continued to stare at Prince Rui with wide eyes.

  “Prince Regent, are you hurt?” Hyun dismounted in his turn and ran to them. Genuine concern sounded in his voice.

  “I have enjoyed myself greatly,” the regent licked his lips and patted his sides, apparently looking for a flask. Finding none, he glanced around, scooped up a handful of untouched snow, and bit into it. “Xian, my friend, go catch our horses while they are still in sight.”

  Yi Hyun turned, cried out softly, and hurried to seize his own reins. Yi Yun’s stallion had already stepped several paces away, casting wary looks at the dead boar. The horse the regent had ridden was zigzagging across the fresh snow at the far edge of the field. Hyun vaulted into the saddle and chased after that distant animal, leaving Yi Yun alone with the monstrous Manchu.

  Prince Rui unhurriedly wiped his dagger on the hem of his clothes, tucked it into his boot, scooped up more snow, and washed his face.

  “One should never underestimate an opponent,” he remarked at last, without even looking at Yi Yun.

  Had this entire spectacle been staged solely to terrify him? But Hyun had seemed worried for the regent’s life, not frightened by his prowess. Does that mean he already knew about his inhuman strength and agility?

  “I…” Yi Yun forced out. He was shaking.

  “Just remember this for the future, prince,” the regent smirked. Blood mixed with snow ran down his cheekbones in pink rivulets. “If you ever decide to make war on me, you will remember — and reconsider. As Sun Tzu said, the best victory is the one achieved without battle.”

  ***

  After that hunt, Yi Yun did not see the prince regent again until the moment of departure. The embassy left the capital two days later, having left no imperial patent with any of the princes. Hyun went to escort the envoy to the border, taking with him an impressive detachment of the royal guard. Formally, of course, they were guarding the great prince, but Yi Yun understood that in truth it was a pretext to deliver Prince Rui back to Qing whole and unharmed.

  And, of course, his grandfather made a scene that very evening.

  He ranted that the scheming Yi Hyun would now charm the envoy and secure the support of Great Qing, while you, fool, do nothing but stare at crows. He reminded him of the deer at the hunt, of some missed dinner, and even of a couple of royal gisaeng whom his younger brother had taken north for amusement on the road. Yi Yun stared at the wall and waited for the torrent of complaints to run dry.

  In the end, his grandfather could not force him to act against his will, no matter how much he raged. Surely Chief State Councilor Kim understood this himself, for at last he exhaled and lowered his voice.

  “You are angry with me now, Yun, but later you will understand that I was right,” he said, rising. “I wish you pleasant dreams, Great Prince.”

  Yi Yun followed him with his gaze and, by habit, called for tea. The eunuch filled the teapot; he drank two cups, his head began to spin, the prince stretched out on the couch and fell asleep.

  And he never managed to wake again.