That morning, the strange sign began with the horses.
After the preparations for departure were finished and weapons and packs inspected, more mounts were led into the courtyard. They had already received enough by the day before—yet the number increased again. And not by a little.
"Hm… why?"
Seongjin looked to the squad leader.
"We already got horses yesterday. And today again?"
The man scratched his head.
"Yeah. Looks like we're going far."
Just then, Hwang Hyeon-pil's voice cut across the yard.
"Everyone—saddle the mounts and get used to them!"
"Loyalty!""Loyalty!""Loyalty!""Loyalty!""Loyalty!"
The replies echoed. When even the foot archers were issued horses, the courtyard stirred at once.
"Looks like horses to spare!""Hah—me, riding a horse at this age. I've made it.""Is this for riding, or for eating later?"
Laughter burst out here and there.
In the army, good fortune does not always mean good intent. When beef soup appears, blood is shed the next day. When arrows overflow, it does not mean wealth—it means shooting until blisters rise on the hands. But this was different. To issue mounts even to foot archers meant this was not a fight to hold a wall, but a march to somewhere far away.
Seongjin lifted a worn saddle and set it on the horse's back.
As his fingertips traced the spine, warmth and the smell of sweat rose together. The horse pinned its ears, uneasy. Seongjin spoke softly, tightening the straps.
"It's all right. It won't take long."
Squad leader Oh Jinchul came up beside him.
"We're really going far now."
He looked over the horse as he spoke.
"This kind of preparation—you only see it when we're marching on Beijing."
"Then… how long until we come back?"
Oh Jinchul tilted his head, as if calculating.
"Fifteen days out. Fifteen days back."
He gave a short laugh.
"If we ride hard and turn straight around, a month."
After that laugh, he said nothing more.
A brief stillness.
One by one, soldiers saddled up and mounted. Those riding for the first time wobbled, losing their balance; some clutched the mane and cursed. The rough breathing of warhorses and the sound of hooves struck the packed earth.
Then the horn sounded.
Low and long, it cut across the fields.
Every gaze lifted at once.
Seongjin straightened in the saddle, tightening the reins. The wind brushed the red banners. At one side of Botongwon's yard, Hwang Hyeon-pil sat mounted. His shadow stretched long across the horse's neck and shoulders.
"Movement preparations complete!"
"Movement preparations complete!"
The echoing replies followed.
Seongjin tightened his grip on the reins. The horse's hot breath brushed the back of his hand.
Without realizing it, he looked up at the sky.
Clouds drifted slowly.
From far off, the horn sounded again.
Lower this time. Longer.
Within that sound, Seongjin dimly understood—
they had set foot on a roadfrom which they might not return.
A hoof struck the ground once more.
Dust rose, and the dust mingled with the sky and vanished.