761.What we need now—is a peace accord.
Even when there was no formal session, the Goryeo king did not rest.
When the official speeches stopped, his footsteps only grew busier.
By day, the quriltai tents murmured.
By night, lights scattered across the steppe.
Each light was a camp.
The king walked by those lights.
The first to open their heart was the Sichuan province.
It bordered the south.
If war resumed, it would be the first place the flames spread.
The Sichuan governor's tent was not lavish.
Meat and liquor lay on hide.
A pouch knife rested nearby, as in the old ways.
The Goryeo king refused ceremony and sat down in front of him.
The Sichuan governor spoke first.
"We… fear what comes next."
The ending was short.
No decoration.
"We have strength to fight.
But if we fight, who fights with us.
I fear the day we have to endure alone."
A brief silence fell.
Only the sound of fat dripping onto the fire continued.
The governor spoke again.
"If war breaks out in the south, we face it first.
And after that—
we are left alone."
The king nodded.
He answered plainly.
"Yes.
That is why the war must stop."
The governor's eyes lifted.
The king picked up meat and cut it with the pouch knife.
"What we need now is not a victory report."
"What we need now—
is a peace accord."
"An accord?"
The governor asked back, short.
"Yes."
The king kept cutting and speaking.
"We already secured it."
The governor's hand stopped.
"What are you saying."
"Daehan."
The king said it clearly.
"A promise that the new southern empire will not attack Sichuan."
Silence.
"A promise spoken?"
The governor's eyes sharpened.
"Or—
a document."
"Both."
The king did not hide it.
"A clause not to cross borders.
And a condition: Goryeo stands as mediator."
The governor set the meat down.
"Why would they make that promise."
The king looked at the fire for a moment.
Then said quietly.
"They do not want war right now either.
The south has just founded a state.
They, too, are desperate for peace.
If war begins now, even the winner will bleed deep."
"So they will not touch Sichuan."
"So Sichuan will not burn."
The king's voice stayed low, and clear.
"So you will not be left alone."
The governor's shoulders dropped, just a fraction.
Relief was not everything.
He asked carefully.
"And if Yuan raises war again."
"Then today's choice will protect you."
The governor exhaled long.
He gave a bitter smile.
"Sweet words."
"But… right now, we need those words."
He raised his cup.
"Sichuan will support the Goryeo king's position."
The king raised his cup as well.
"I will not promise victory.
But—
I will keep the flames from spreading."
The cups met.
That night, the Sichuan governor slept well for the first time in a long while.
Anxiety remained.
But the words "the war will stop" were sweet enough to cover it.
The king knew.
Only then did the real work begin.
The Henan–Jiangbei tent was always crowded.
As the heart of logistics, people and horses never stopped moving.
Supplies piled up, then emptied, then piled again.
A corridor of war, worn down by war more than any other land.
The Goryeo king went there almost every day.
No fixed hour.
No gaudy entourage.
He entered carrying only a box of tea.
On the first day, he sat down without a word and offered a cup.
A Henan official hesitated, then accepted.
"Today… what have you come to speak about."
"I will speak about nothing."
The king replied evenly.
A short silence.
He looked up at the sky and continued.
"The wind is fierce today."
"Do the horses not startle."
Bayan, the Henan administrator, snorted a small laugh.
"The horses of this land are used to wind.
Better than people."
That was all.
Politics did not rise.
On the second day, tea was placed again.
This time the Shaanxi governor sat with them.
"The roads are badly damaged."
The king said.
"When armies move, it is always so.
War changes many things."
The Shaanxi governor nodded.
"Before roads wear down, people wear down.
And as they go and return, hearts change."
A little laughter mixed in.
Short, but a clear shift.
On the third day, the silence grew longer.
Then someone said low.
"Among the soldiers who marched last time, half did not come back.
The losses are heavy."
The talk continued.
Who returned.
Who did not.
The king did not cut in.
He nodded and listened to the end.
That night, the Shaanxi governor said quietly.
"We have already given much.
We have no more troops to add.
And yet the weight of being told to keep holding councils like this—
it is heavy."
The king filled the cup and answered.
"That is why I am trying to ensure you do not have to give more."
A short line.
No explanation.
But the hand holding the cup stopped.
Days later, Henan's administrator joined as well.
"Your words are fine.
But if the person changes tomorrow, will this promise not shake."
The air in the tent hardened.
The king held silence for a moment.
Then said quietly.
"That is why I intend to leave it not as one man's promise,
but as a pact among several states."
He placed his hand on the table and drew an invisible line.
"Three states.
A line none of us crosses."
The Shaanxi governor watched that hand and asked.
"Who guards that line."
The king lifted his head.
"Each guards it.
If one breaks it, the other two unite and destroy him.
That is why it does not shake easily."
As the night deepened, the air inside the tent changed.
Caution remained.
Hostility softened.
Suspicion stayed.
Refusal disappeared.
It was a wise proposal.
Whenever the king left, he bowed deeply.
He did not act like a victor.
He did not act like a petitioner.
He carried the posture of a neighbor who must live long beside them.
After days passed, the Henan–Jiangbei tents opened their doors.
The king's persuasion was accepted.
In the Shaanxi tents, they warmed tea and waited before he even arrived.
That alone was an answer.
Without anyone saying it aloud, everyone understood.
Half of what would be "decided" in the council was already finished in the night tents.
Night after night, the Goryeo king went from camp to camp.
And Park Seong-jin always accompanied him.