Chapter 146. The Drunken Sword Dance
The feast ran high with spirit.
Tribes gathered and mingled as one.
Fathers and elder brothers had come from distant homelands to comfort the soldiers.
Sons sent home what they had taken as spoils of war.
They had broken the Liao, and now a new state—Jin—was to be born.
How could their hearts not swell with joy.
Since the fall of Balhae, they had drifted long without a country.
Only those who have lived without a nation know the weight of that sorrow.
No one stood for them, no one bore responsibility for them.
Nothing in their lives carried the assurance of protection.
Years of humiliation and disgrace had passed.
When summoned, they went.
When ordered to dance, they cast aside their pride and danced.
But tonight was different.
Tonight they laid down their pride and danced from the depths of their own hearts.
Agolta, in the midst of dancing, called for Yeong-u.
He now attended to him more often than even his own sons.
"Your Majesty seems in great spirits."
"Your Majesty?"
"The Great Khan has become His Majesty."
"Truly, I am glad."
"My congratulations."
"Then in celebration, will you not dance as well?"
At Agolta's urging, Yeong-u replied that he would not dance—but perform a sword dance.
Ogulmae, recalling what he had seen before, was startled.
At once he had the crowd sit.
As the gong rang out, he called to those who turned their heads.
"The honored guest from Goryeo will show us a sword dance instead of a common dance. Sit, and watch well."
"Eolssu!"
It was Socheolryong who cried out the cheer.
The people stepped back.
All took their seats, leaving a wide empty space at the center.
Yeong-u asked for more distance.
The crowd laughed and stepped back further, widening the circle.
Yeong-u exhaled slowly.
Hoo… hoo…
What he held in his hand was not a sword, but a banner-spear.
He favored unusual weapons.
He drew the banner from his waist.
He joined the shaft, piece by piece, until it grew long.
At the tip, a long blue banner shimmered in the firelight.
The cloth, tightly wound, began to unfurl from his hand.
It stopped just before touching the ground.
He lifted the spear.
The drum sounded.
Boom. Boom. Boom-boom-boom.
The spear thrust forward.
The banner burst open in a single motion.
With a sharp flutter, it spread—
the firelight running along its length as it streamed behind the spear.
Yeong-u stepped forward.
The spear shot straight, then swept aside.
The banner followed a heartbeat later, drawing a wide arc.
He spun once.
The banner wrapped around the shaft, then unfurled again with the next motion.
His body turned.
The spear carved a great circle.
The banner tore through the air with a fluttering cry.
Unfurling. Wrapping. Flowing.
It moved like breath itself.
The gong rang again.
At that moment, the Goryeo soldiers standing outside surged forward.
Not one by one, but in ordered lines.
Spearmen entered as one.
They formed a half-circle around Yeong-u and halted.
The drum thundered again.
Yeong-u's spear thrust forward.
At that instant, all the soldiers' spears followed.
The front line stepped in and drove their spears.
The rear line followed half a beat later.
Dozens of spearpoints aligned into a single line.
Then, as one, they swept aside.
The banners unfurled together.
A thunder of fluttering cloth filled the night air.
Not a single layer—but many, overlapping in resonance.
The soldiers began to move in a circle.
Their steps did not falter.
Each turn of the spear bent the banners wide before they wrapped again.
The front line thrust low.
The rear line struck from above.
High and low crossed.
The banners surged upward, then cascaded down.
The drums quickened.
So did the movement.
The spears struck in rapid succession.
The banners fully unfurled, then trembled as they wrapped again.
Flutter. Fluttering roar.
The sound did not cease.
One line pressed forward.
Another covered it.
They spread, then gathered again.
The flow did not break.
Yeong-u's spear swept in a great arc.
The entire formation turned with it.
Dozens of spears traced the same circle.
The banners followed, gathering the firelight in their wake.
The final drumbeat rang long.
Yeong-u's foot came to a halt.
All spears thrust forward at once.
The banners followed a heartbeat later, shaking wide.
With a final flutter,
the cloth slowly settled.
The drums ceased.
Only then did the crowd exhale.
The soldiers stood, spears upright.
Only the banners swayed faintly in the firelight.
The feast remained—
yet in that space stood an army formation.
Applause broke like a storm.
Yeong-u bowed toward Emperor Agolta.
"My congratulations once more on your founding and enthronement."
Agolta laughed and turned behind him.
"What are you doing? Will you not offer a reply?"
Though no song had been sung, he called it a reply.
The young warriors of the Wanyan clan stepped forward.
Wanyan Zongwang, Wanyan Zonghan, Wanyan Xiyin, Wanyan Eunga, Wanyan Sarigal.
The five came forth and bowed deeply.
Zonghan spoke.
"We thank all who have joined us in this founding feast.
May this be a time where we share in joy and bond as one.
To those who have come from distant Goryeo, we offer our deepest gratitude.
With this heart, we answer with the sword dance and Joseon methods we have learned."
The five moved together.
The forms they practiced daily unfolded.
Alone, it would have been a dance.
Together, it became a martial formation.
That formation became a marching song.
Jurchen soldiers, newly trained, poured in.
They joined as one.
The march had begun.
When all was done, Zonghan cried out.
"Our war is to destroy the Liao.
Our next target is Buyeo-bu—the place they now call Huanglong-fu."
At the name Buyeo-bu, the crowd stirred.
If Chulhajeom was the threshold,
Buyeo-bu was the heart.
Agreement already lay beneath the surface.
It had been Yeong-u's word,
and the Emperor's will.
Agolta rose and shouted.
"We strike Buyeo-bu!"
"Buyeo-bu!"
"Buyeo-bu!"
"Buyeo-bu!"
"Buyeo-bu!"
"Buyeo-bu!"
"Buyeo-bu!"
Agolta shouted again.
"Commanders, reorganize the army starting tomorrow!
Until now, your strength was for plunder.
Now it must become a force for war.
All shall enter the new formation!"
"Loyalty!"
"Loyalty!"
"Loyalty!"
"Loyalty!"
"Loyalty!"
Cries of loyalty rose everywhere.
The night stretched long.
And deep.
Songs did not cease until far into the darkness.