- Stratagem
“Like moles, the lot of them.”
Lee Hee muttered under his breath.
He had stepped out of the council chamber, yet the bitterness had not settled.
The friction with the heavy infantry had grown sharp.
The greatest cause of it was the Grand General’s silence.
Though the cavalry and the shield infantry stood in open disagreement, Jin Mugwang had said nothing at all.
The infantry had their own grievances.
Even among them were voices insisting they could simply advance with shields and crossbows at the fore.
It was talk born of ignorance.
Anyone who had truly known battle understood the result: chase mounted enemies until exhaustion, and one becomes prey.
To fail to grasp something so obvious was beyond frustrating.
So Lee Hee thought of the shield infantry as moles.
He did not stray far from the Grand General’s tent.
He waited for someone to emerge.
He wished to settle the matter somewhere other than the council chamber.
Truthfully, he felt like seizing Jo Ga and Yang Ga by the collar.
Even after Lee Hee had left, others remained inside, continuing their debate.
The Grand General sat still, offering neither assent nor objection.
Yu Gunmyeong came out.
He favored attack.
He believed that if they spread wide, cut off every escape, and tighten the net like hunters trapping hares, they would catch them all.
Perhaps men of the attack faction became so because they lacked patience.
Lee Hee had hoped Jo Ga would emerge, but when he did not, he vented his irritation at Yu Gunmyeong.
“What are they doing in there?”
“As you know, they are still deliberating.”
“And will that deliberation reach a conclusion?”
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“Do not let anger get the better of you.
Who among us does not wish to fight the enemy?
But all know that if the infantry moves recklessly, annihilation awaits.
Dividing our forces may itself be perilous.”
“Then what do you propose?”
“What can thick-headed soldiers like us propose?”
“So you mean to listen to the civil officials instead?”
“So it seems.
Or are you waiting here to start a brawl the moment someone steps out?”
Lee Hee gave no answer.
He had indeed waited to confront someone away from the Grand General’s presence.
But he swallowed his anger, turned away, and returned to his own tent.
With cavalry alone, they were outnumbered several hundred to one.
A civil official approached.
In the torchlight, Lee Hee recognized Geum Chaeksa—the official who had once been asked to copy a manuscript.
He must have been waiting outside, seeing no one within.
“General, it is finished.”
“Finished… already?”
“Was it not urgent?”
At the word “already,” a flicker of disappointment crossed the man’s face.
In his arms he carried ten volumes titled Compendium of Martial Arts Through the Ages.
Lee Hee accepted them.
Despite the absurdity of the title, a faint smile touched his lips even in his vexed state.
“In times like these… You have my thanks.”
“It was merely my duty.”
“Come inside.”
Lee Hee brewed the tea he had once given him and poured it.
He flipped through the copied volumes.
They were cleaner than the original.
Where the original hand had been hurried and coarse, Geum Chaeksa’s script was upright and deliberate.
“You bear many burdens, do you not?”
Geum Chaeksa studied Lee Hee’s face as he lifted his cup.
There was something in his gaze—a want.
“That we do.
Those moles refuse to move.
We cannot defeat the enemy with the White Dragon Corps alone.
It is suffocating.
What think you?”
Lee Hee asked it lightly.
He did not expect a perfect answer from a civil official, least of all in a force dominated by shield infantry.
What did this man desire?
Coin? Rank? Authority? Recognition?
Human desire took many shapes, yet in the end it bent toward only a few shameful hungers.
And what of himself—what did he desire in living thus?
To long for glory was but another form of hunger.
‘What does he want in return?’
At Lee Hee’s quiet lament, a spark lit Geum Chaeksa’s eyes.
“The enemy does not come.
We wait.
Then we must make them come.”
For a man presumed ignorant of strategy, the words were enough to seize Lee Hee’s attention.
“Make them come?
How?
Our White Dragon Corps rides out daily, shouting, hunting down their scouts, maneuvering east and west.
They do not stir.”
“A stratagem is needed.”
“A stratagem… Go on.”
Lee Hee urged him on.
He knew that if he cut him off, the man would say nothing further.
“They do not come because we are here.
Then we remove ourselves.
Open the road.
Let them advance.
Strike elsewhere.
Or vanish as if gone.”
Lee Hee’s eyes widened.
A modest smile appeared on the strategist’s face.
What use was brilliance if unrecognized?
Without recognition, one did not even earn the chance to act.
Lee Hee sensed that what Geum Chaeksa desired was acknowledgment.
“You mean we feign withdrawal and lie in wait?”
“How could I presume to know the arts of high command?
I merely say this: if their refusal to move is the problem, then making them move may be the solution.
As for the method, surely you know it better than I.
Or withdraw in truth.”
“Your insight is appreciated.
Why not present this to the Grand General?”
“In this cursed army, who listens to a mere bookman?
This is repayment for your courtesy.
If you block the gorge, no rabbit will pass.
Set the snare and hide.”
Lee Hee struck his knee.
It was simple.
Clear.
Strategists existed for such thoughts, yet few commanders truly used them.
Civil officials were given clerical duties, not counsel in war.
Lee Hee wrapped a gift in cloth—neither meager nor extravagant—and sent him off.