Time dragged.

  Captain Chong Sang-uk dismissed the soldiers early, making sure everyone had heard that at dawn they would go to catch the criminal. That should be enough for the rumors.

  Officially, the town guards answered to the Magistrate, but the Magistrate clearly considered it more important to fuss over the envoy and the capital guests than to deal with a tedious investigation. A lazy sergeant with his perpetually running nose preferred to warm himself by the brazier, sipping from a flask. And Chong Sang-uk, used to commanding disciplined royal guards, carried himself with such confidence that the local soldiers stood straighter and obeyed him without even questioning his authority.

  Commander Yeong would not have praised him, of course.

  For some reason the Commander disliked Great Prince Seojin and tried to keep him away from the captain outside the palace. One could bet the Commander would have sent a different unit with the embassy if he had known Great Prince Seojin would join them on the road.

  A couple of times Chong Sang-uk tried to start a conversation about that dislike, but Commander Yeong either turned it into a joke or snapped and fell silent. In the end Chong Sang-uk waved it off. Most likely it was some complicated palace politics. After five years in the capital guard and another ten in the Wangwisa at the palace, Chong Sang-uk still had not learned to read the wind by which minister arrived first to the morning council, or which scented sachet a noble concubine chose today.

  Fortunately, he had passed the military exam in his time, and people expected him to handle weapons well, not a brush.

  Unfortunately, even all his skill had not been enough that day at the port to protect the prince and save his men. Why was he the one who survived?

  It was not that he was ungrateful for such luck, but Chong Sang-uk felt he owed a debt to the families of his fallen soldiers. Now he tried to support those in need, though he felt it was not enough.

  Fortunately, the prince he had been sent to protect back then had survived. Chong Sang-uk liked to think that some part of that was his doing as well. If they had not reached the grove, if they had not fought their way across the bare beach and the pier, Great Prince Dojun would not have been able to slip away from the assassins. And there were far fewer assassins left thanks to Chong Sang-uk and his West Guard.

  He told his new soldiers about the massacre at the port, holding the dead up as examples of brave men, loyal to duty. From them, and from himself, he expected no less resolve next time, but better preparation. This was his second chance, and Chong Sang-uk was determined to make the West Guard the best of all.

  Better even than the arrogant East Guard, whose captain fancied himself first among them thanks to the more auspicious name.

  As soon as he returned to service, Chong Sang-uk threw himself into rigorous training. Great Prince Seojin, to give him his due, helped him a great deal by drilling the soldiers. Of course, the Great Prince made no distinctions and trained with all the units, but at some point Chong Sang-uk began to feel they had formed a kind of silent understanding.

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  Sometimes one would toss the other a spear or a wooden practice sword from the rack. The Great Prince might offer him a ladle of water or a hand up from the ground — Chong Sang-uk still wondered whether Great Prince Seojin was simply that good, or whether the captain himself had weakened after his wound, but he almost never managed to knock the Great Prince down.

  Perhaps that was why, and despite the Commander’s warnings, Chong Sang-uk had come to like Great Prince Seojin. When Great Prince Dojun asked him to keep an eye on his elder brother, he even felt uncomfortable. The younger prince’s explanation that someone might be blackmailing his elder brother felt empty and insincere.

  Even to Chong Sang-uk, far from politics, it was obvious that a black cat had crossed between the brothers. He did not refuse, but only so that the same task would not go to someone less scrupulous.

  Besides, how could he judge the behavior of a Great Prince he had only met on the training grounds? Aside from that incident with the murdered maid when they first met, they had barely spoken at all.

  Great Prince Seojin received Chong Sang-uk coolly, which stung him unexpectedly. Later, however, it became clear the Great Prince also remembered Commander Yeong’s words and simply did not want to cause trouble.

  It was surprising how easy this Great Prince was to deal with.

  The captain sometimes recalled how, on the day they met, the Great Prince, the king’s son, had bowed to him.

  Friends told Chong Sang-uk that the youngest of the princes was even simpler and more gracious, but that prince had left the palace before Chong Sang-uk returned there, so he could not confirm it himself.

  People also said the eldest and the youngest princes had grown up among common folk and therefore had not picked up palace arrogance. Chong Sang-uk could believe that.

  In any case, Great Prince Seojin had offered a good idea for the investigation, and now Chong Sang-uk had gotten “mixed up in his affairs” again. In his report to Commander Yeong he ought to emphasize that he had done all this on Great Prince Dojun’s orders. After all, he could not refuse a Great Prince to whom the Commander Yeong himself had assigned him, could he?

  Indeed, worded that way, it sounded much better.

  Chong Sang-uk smirked with satisfaction and smoothed his short mustache. If only this thief would come early for the planted evidence so he would not have to sit here all night, that would be just perfect!

  Chong Sang-uk had to pretend the magistracy was empty, so he could not light the brazier or brew tea. Early winter twilight was falling outside the windows, tinting the room blue.

  It grew colder.

  Chong Sang-uk paced a little, took off his jeonnip, did a few squats, considered jumping in place, but the floorboards betrayed him with an ominous creak, and he had to sit back down on the chair, already cold.

  Chong Sang-uk began to regret not bringing stronger drink. Or at least some food — he had been stuck in the magistracy since early morning, and his stomach was already rumbling traitorously.

  Footsteps beyond the wall whispered so softly that Chong Sang-uk almost missed them. Hearing a floorboard creak, he lifted his head and, taking his sword, tiptoed behind a folding screen. A door rustled open, the steps grew heavier and closer.

  Chong Sang-uk tried to breathe as quietly as possible and waited.

  Something scraped.

  Then a chest lid lifted and thumped against the wall. The visitor was not breaking a lock — he opened it, the realization striking the captain!

  But the key was either with the duty guard, or the sergeant, or the Magistrate. Chong Sang-uk frowned: he did not like the conclusions that came first to mind.

  And at that moment his stomach delivered a long, heartfelt tirade.

  Whoever was rummaging in the evidence chest certainly heard it. The folding screen he was hiding behind flew toward Chong Sang-uk, nearly crushing him, but he sprang aside to the wall and drew his sword. The discarded scabbard fell under the window.

  “Name yourself!” Chong Sang-uk demanded, stepping into the middle of the room and leveling his sword at the intruder.