Chapter 39: Go Daewon

The war game that used miniatures spread out on a table was developed for military purposes in the 18th century by Prussia, a nation that itself was considered a weapon of war.

But soon, the Prussians discovered the fun in this ‘military game’ and commercialized it into a form of play.

That could be considered the very first miniature game, but… the people of Goguryeo were different.

“The mobility of spearmen doesn’t make sense. Hey, you punk, can you really move around like this carrying a ten-chi spear and the load of four horses?”

“No, no, this setup is just right for spearmen. My grandfather on my mother’s side, who fought in the Battle of Baekhapya, said….”

“No way! My uncle who fought at Dokseong Fortress said otherwise!”

They even gathered the advice of fathers, grandfathers, and uncles who had experienced real wars in the past.

“Wait a minute, listen. At Baekhapya, where your grandfather fought Baekje, the Baekje troops were the main army, right?”

“Exactly. The ruler of Baekje himself led them, after all. Goguryeo rarely calls him ‘king.’”

“But your uncle struck the supply unit carrying provisions, didn’t he? Of course the accuracy would drop, since the troop quality was different.”

“Then Baekje’s overall power would be….”

“Right. It makes sense to lower it by one step. Do you agree?”

“I guess that seems about right…?”

They even analyzed and selected from those experiences to build a foundation for judging the enemy, which until then had been vaguely considered as simply ‘strong’ or ‘weak.’

“What, one strike with the Hwandosu on the spearman’s flank, and a third of our swordsmen died? Why are we even learning swordsmanship? The spear is easy to learn, and even if it gets stabbed in the side, it still drags down a third of the swordsmen—a crazy weapon!”

“But the stabbed ones were wiped out, weren’t they?”

“Of course a spearman stabbed in the side would be annihilated, but it doesn’t make sense that so many of ours fell with them!”

“Ah, you sword-whiner! Spearmen aren’t just going to stand there staring forward! They’d throw down their spears and punch, or pull out a dagger or something!”

“Forget it, just gather the guys! How many of you? Twenty? Set up your spear square. We’ll hit the flank with swordsmen and see what the exchange ratio comes out like. Teacher! Can we borrow the training ground?”

“Sure. I’m curious myself. Do it right away.”

If something didn’t make sense in theory, they even gathered people and tested it directly.

‘Crazy… what is this.’

It was terrifying.

But one thing was certain: through this process, the Goryeo Myosan was steadily becoming more realistic.

Of course, it was still crude at this point, so whether it was accurate or not couldn’t be certain… but what if they began properly recording future battles and developed it into something as detailed as a true war game?

I wasn’t a soldier, so I couldn’t tell how useful war games really were. (Though I knew that in Japanese naval-style war games, dead units could come back to life.) But I had heard that the concept of war games was still actively used even in the 21st century.

‘If that’s the case… wouldn’t it be effective in its own way?’

Even setting that aside, the very attempt to hold rulers in hand, argue over squares, and apply mathematics to battle… seemed like incredible progress.

And there was another benefit.

“Spearmen are the best.”

“Cavalry is the best, what are you talking about, that’s why you Pyeongyang Fortress guys are like that.”

“What? Stop flapping your lips and settle it with Myosan!”

Normally, apart from my family’s status, relations between Domestic Fortress and Pyeongyang Fortress weren’t great, but after the rise of Myosan, they started talking with each other much more often.

“Damn it! Spearmen are so weak. Ondal! Is this right? Isn’t the balance all wrong?”

“What are you babbling? You just suck at it and blame the balance.”

“Are you insane?”

That too had to be considered a good sign.

‘…Still, is this really right?’

In Prussia, miniature games were born from war games.

But in Goguryeo… war games were being born from miniature games.

My daily routine was insanely busy.

Official duties were busy as expected.

And when I had free time?

“Today’s shoulder day!”

“Ondal! Teach me shoulders!”

Energetic physical training with friends.

“Come at me, Ondal! I challenge you to Myosan!”

“Sorry, today I have to create a new unit type.”

“Hmm, a pity. Add it quickly then.”

Or I immersed myself in new Goryeo Myosan updates.

The Goryeo Myosan brought about unexpected effects, but also the ones I had expected.

Not only classmates but even seniors often gathered around me, the creator of Goryeo Myosan. Some of the overzealous ones even compared me to the ancient King Yao who invented the game of Go.

Hearing that, it almost felt like I was the top of the first-year class… but of course, I wasn’t.

“Now, here comes the dice….”

The real leader of the first-years was, naturally, the one rolling dice in front of me—Go Daewon, the future King Yeongyang.

“Damn, I rolled a bunch of twos. I lost. The problem was that the ambush didn’t work. Should I have tried a different tactic?”

“No. Not every failed tactic is bad. Sometimes it just doesn’t work because luck’s against you. This time was still worth trying.”

“I see. Anyway, it’s truly an amusing game.”

Go Daewon said this while glancing toward the door.

“By the way, it should be about time….”

“Ondal! Face me!”

At that moment, the door burst open and Yeon Taejo strode in.

His hands too were filled with crudely carved wooden pieces.

“Here you are again?”

“Of course. Out of forty-eight matches, I’ve won twelve.”

These days, whenever he felt bored, Yeon Taejo came looking for me to challenge me at Myosan.

Which meant that at least within the Taehak, the relationship between me of the Domestic Fortress Faction and Yeon Taejo of the Pyeongyang Faction had improved enough that we could sit across from each other and play together.

“Today I’ll finally beat you and become the best! Once again you take Sato, and I’ll take Goryeo!”

Go Daewon, the first-year leader, enjoyed Myosan but never overindulged in it.

Even if he lost, he would shrug it off coolly with a ‘It was fun, so that’s fine.’

But Yeon Taejo, the second-year leader, was different.

He simply could not stand losing.

If I were to attempt some half-baked amateur psychology….

Go Daewon had been royal from birth and always the top dog, so he was used to giving up what should be given and taking what should be taken, rather than obsessing over winning.

But Yeon Taejo, coming from a backwater village in Eastern Buyeo, seemed to carry the urgency that unless he became the very best, he would never be respected as such.

…Or maybe.

“The will of King Gwanggaeto within me whispered: ‘How dare a servant of Goryeo, even on a game board, lose to Silla? You fool, you’re no better than a Baekje brat! Yeon Taejo, you idiot, get up this instant and charge!’ …That’s what he said!”

Maybe he was just a little insane.

“The will of King Gwanggaeto…?”

Go Daewon looked at Yeon Taejo with the expression of, ‘Why would the will of King Gwanggaeto reside in you and not in me, his descendant?’

Then he simply sighed and said.

“Well… have your fun.”

Suddenly, my college days came to mind.

Back then, there had been a senior who shared memory notes and problem banks, the so-called ‘test legacies.’

At the same time, he excelled at sports like soccer and basketball.

And he was incredibly good at games, always making us laugh whenever we went to PC rooms together.

People usually called him an ‘insider.’

If so….

Here I was, solving transcription problems with wooden movable type.

Revealing 21st-century health training methods 1500 years early and pumping up the bodies of muscle maniacs.

And on top of that, inventing something that combined war and games, the two things that drove Goguryeo people absolutely crazy.

“Ondal, come here!”

“What is it, seniors?”

“You fool, at times like this you sneak over.”

“This is liquor, isn’t it? Where did you…?”

“Snatched it from the scholars!”

What more was there to say? I was the insider of insiders.

By now my lightning-fast rise had shifted from being dismissed as ‘a lucky bum’ to being admired with ‘Tch, what luck too!’

That was the amusing part of the world.

The truth never changed, but depending on who looked at it, from what perspective, and when, interpretations varied wildly.

If I won the lottery, people would say it was because I’d lived well.

But if someone I hated won it, it would be proof that there was no God.

‘Still… when the guy who beat me on my first day asked me when the next Goryeo Myosan patch was coming, I was dumbfounded.’

Of course, he hadn’t just asked in words—he had readily paid by giving me the previous year’s trend questions in the Five Classics, a subject I was weaker at.

After all, we were all destined to face each other later anyway, so there was no need to pick pointless fights.

The guy who beat me yesterday became my friend today.

‘…In the end, the Taehak was just another school crammed full of teenagers.’

Schools had their own hardships as places where people lived, but they weren’t the utterly ruthless, bloodless arenas of politics.

Even Mr. Draco from that school in England ended up being something like a friend to that glasses-wearing boy who constantly told him to shut up—despite their families’ feud and his awful personality.

That was the charm of a school with dormitories.

And it was surely why Go Yangseong had chosen the Taehak, not the political stage, as the true starting point of his integration policy.

Of course, I didn’t spend all my time playing.

Goryeo Myosan and wooden movable type were both excellent, but they didn’t guarantee my grades.

Naturally, I also studied with everything I had.

“Sword duel, Ondal wins!”

“Phew, what a monster….”

Before I knew it, my martial arts scores put me in the top three among the Yellow-cloaks.

Even against monsters like Maeng Sap or Go Daewon, I could split matches about half and half.

“Your body is practically built for martial arts. It’s no exaggeration.”

“Really?”

“Except for archery, that is.”

Honestly, I didn’t deserve that much credit.

After grinding at it for six months, even my archery had improved decently.

‘Place the arrow at the center and release. Place the arrow at the center and release. Place the arrow at the center and release….’

Chanting that as I shot, I could hit near the center fairly often.

I couldn’t achieve the skill of Wang Jun, who loosed five shots in a row and landed them all.

But if I gritted my teeth, I could at least land one shot in the right place.

Still, Maeng Sap’s judgment was firm.

“Your skill with melee weapons is flawless. With the throwing spear you’re even better than me. But I don’t think you have the same talent for archery.”

Maeng Sap gave with one hand and took away with the other.

He could have said it the other way around.

“Well, you’re still above average. In a place like Silla you’d be treated as a master archer. But here in Goryeo? Not so much.”

It was only because the comparison group was outstanding, not because I had done poorly, or so I understood it.

“Besides, you’re good at studying too. Sometimes you mess up the Records of the Three Kingdoms, or you spout nonsense like the earth being round. But clever guys often say silly things, so let it slide.”

The mistake about the Records of the Three Kingdoms came from confusing it with Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and the earth really was round.

But clever, that much was true.

If the body of ‘Ondal’ was optimized for martial arts, then the mind of me, ‘Kim Insam,’ was optimized for studying.

Not that I was good enough to get into SKY, but still, I had gone through sixteen years of schooling—elementary through college—and survived three years of night self-study.

If this were Joseon, obsessed with studying, that wouldn’t even be enough to show my face… but in Goguryeo, hardly anyone was as used to studying as I was.

And future knowledge helped quite a bit too.

“Jaemu, what is it?”

“Well… I didn’t understand a problem from Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art. Is this a gugo (Pythagorean theorem) problem? Where’s the triangle?”

“Here, draw an auxiliary line here, and another one there. See? Now you have three triangles.”

“Then how do you solve this equation (system of linear equations)?”

“Ah, that’s easy if you draw it. Make a horizontal axis and a vertical axis, then connect them with points….”

Pythagoras’ theorem and systems of linear equations.

Goguryeo’s mathematics was more advanced than I thought, but still only at the level of a modern first-year high schooler.

Naturally, my mathematical knowledge far surpassed the average of this era.

‘Ah, thank you, EBX math instructor.’

As a teenager I had grumbled, “Equations? Pythagoras? When would I ever use this garbage in real life? School’s just a prison…”

But after this trip, it all turned out to be useful.

What was “real life” anyway? If changing your college entrance score changed your life, that was real life and practical use.

“But wait, what’s with this pig’s tail?”

“Oh, sorry.”

I erased the “3” I had written and replaced it with 三.

‘Hah, I really miss Arabic numerals.’

But there was no need to worry.

Soon Monk Uiyeon would return from China with piles of Buddhist scriptures, and surely among them there would be a few Arabic numerals.

I could use those as a reference and build from there.

That day again, I finished the arithmetic the fastest, and when Lee Shin saw my answers, he nodded in satisfaction.

“Very excellent. The phrase ‘both literary and martial’ was made for you, Ondal.”

“Thank you.”

“I have high expectations for you. By the way, are you preparing well for this Keitu?”

“How could I neglect it, when His Majesty himself will observe it?”

“Good. Your team’s Keitu results have been fine lately, but do not grow complacent. This will be a great opportunity for you.”

Keitu literally meant fighting with weapons.

Each room formed a team and fought mock battles against others, and within the Taehak’s curriculum—meant to raise future officials and officers—it was considered very important.

This time, Grand King Go Yangseong himself said he would observe.

“Daewon, maybe….”

“My sister isn’t coming.”

“Ah, I see.”

Go Daewon glanced at me.

The look said, ‘Why do you like my sister so much?’

Similarly, when I wrote a letter praising how great Go Daewon was, Boknyeo replied, “Him?”

…Just what were siblings, anyway?

At any rate, we were on full alert.

“This time, no pointless fighting. Domestic Fortress, Pyeongyang Fortress, Eastern Division, Southern Division—anyone who acts up will be expelled at once!”

“This is your chance to catch the Taewang’s eye!”

“Win no matter what! Kill them all!”

If you caught the King’s eye, promotions came easy.

But if you made a bad impression before the King, you were doomed.

You often saw in movies how when the King inspected in person, old problems suddenly got solved or morale soared.

This was why.

And up until now, our room’s Keitu record wasn’t bad.

Not that I was secretly some kind of genius strategist just because I’d been a 21st-century factory heir.

I might be a champion on the top-view board games (with over 80% win rate), but real battles were another matter.

I once read a novel about “A pro gamer leading battles and winning them all,” but I didn’t turn out like that.

So I wasn’t our commander.

“Here, Ondal advances. Maeng Sap supports from the rear. Once morale is high enough, send a courier using the code Ondal devised.”

“You mean those square and round letters?”

“Right. Once the enemy’s position is confirmed, Jaemu will circle wide, hide, and then ambush according to the courier’s message.”

That role fell to the strong first-year leader of our room, Crown Prince Go Daewon.

His education level was exceptional.

I had learned martial arts from Yeombu, a Royal Army instructor, and studied under Boknyeo, who had received an elite education.

But Go Daewon surpassed even that.

As a child, he had studied learning from Monk Hyeja, and martial arts and strategy directly under the Grand Elder Go Heul.

If I had studied under a star lecturer, Go Daewon had learned from university professors.

So the overall command was Go Daewon’s.

And my role was—

“Ondal, you will take charge of the battle line.”

The vanguard.

Go Daewon asked.

“No objections?”

“None!!”

My roommates nodded.

At times like this, they spoke formally to me as their leader.

As for origins, they were a jumble of Western, Southern, Northern, Eastern, and Central Divisions—but they all trusted me.

If Go Daewon was the ‘head’ of our room, then I was something like the spine.

Go Daewon looked at me.

“Ondal, you’re confident, aren’t you?”

Confident?

Well, under the command of Go Daewon—who would one day become King Yeongyang and lead us to victory in the Yeosu War—and with a 190cm frame built to crush the enemy… how could I not be confident?

1. Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art was a mathematics book from the Wei era (Cao Cao’s Wei), describing Pythagoras’ theorem and systems of linear equations.

2. Keitu usually brings to mind Chinese customs, meaning settlers and natives fighting with weapons over land.

In China, with frequent invasions and many refugees, such conflicts were common.

Sometimes distances were so vast that they couldn’t even communicate, so swords spoke louder than words.

Even sect wars in martial arts stories over territory were a kind of Keitu.

But aside from that, Keitu could also simply mean fighting with tools.

In this story, it was used in that latter sense.

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