A Feast in the Mountains
In the army, when there is meat, a feast follows.
The work demands great amounts of energy, so nourishing food is necessary, and nothing is better than meat hunted in the wild.
It is not that they would not eat—there simply is none to eat. If something appears, a feast begins at once.
No place is required. No fine seasoning is required.
Even utensils are unnecessary.
No cooking ingredients are needed, nor even bowls to hold the food.
The barren plains of Haran offered no proper game to hunt.
It was like a desert, dry winds blowing endlessly, a place where animals could hardly survive.
There were few beasts, and those that did exist were small or swift.
Perhaps no bigger than a large rat.
Hunting was nearly impossible.
Thus, in Haran, meat meant little more than the flesh of a dead horse.
Even that was rare, for killing a valuable horse deliberately was strictly controlled and had to pass verification procedures along reporting routes, so the chance of eating such meat was slim.
When Soun brought back the meat, the eyes of the Baekryongdae widened.
What kind of meat it was did not matter.
Its size mattered.
It was large enough for everyone to eat and still have some left.
Some shouted loudly in excitement.
Others reached out and touched it, as if to confirm whether it was real.
Nearly the entire Baekryongdae, who had been waiting for something to be brought back, rushed out.
Behind the bear being dragged by three scouts, the two men who had trudged back weakly collapsed at the entrance of the camp.
It was a hollowed place between rocks and a stream, hidden from outside view and sheltered from the wind.
They had spent more strength lifting and hauling the bear than hunting it.
They could not move even a finger.
On the verge of fainting, they sprawled with both legs stretched out.
Their backs bent, their upper bodies propped up by their arms.
They could not hear the cheers around them.
They did not even care enough to watch as others dragged the carcass away to begin the work.
The only truth that entered their lowered gaze was the earth—yellow soil, stones, and scattered grass.
The camp roared in celebration.
"Hey! Scholar Yu, that's incredible!"
Lee Hee stepped forward with firm strides upon seeing the bear.
His expression grew solemn.
As he approached, those who had been touching the bear and preparing to work stepped back.
Lee Hee drew a short blade from his waist, made a small incision on one side of the chest, rolled up his sleeve, and thrust his hand inside.
His arm went deep into the bear's chest.
Up to his shoulder disappeared into its body.
The shouting around them ceased.
Like someone reaching into an unseen bundle to search for an object, he remained there, face intent, until at last he withdrew his arm.
His hand was covered in blood, gripping something—the gall bladder.
Bear gall.
Holding it, he walked toward Jin Mugwang, who was watching from a distance.
He presented it respectfully with both hands.
"It is the gall bladder. Scholar Yu caught it. Please take it while it is still warm."
A bright smile spread across the general's face.
"Thank you, Hee-ya. But perhaps we should give it to the boy this time. Think of how the child must have struggled, dragging this thing all the way here. Look at him—collapsed with both hands and feet spread out."
A smile lingered on Jin Mugwang's face.
It had been a long time since such joy visited him.
On one side, fires were being lit.
On another, the hide was being stripped.
Some argued whether there were antlers, mistaking it at first for a deer.
They scorched the flesh over flames to remove the smell.
One shouted that the bear hide should be made into a chair for the general.
A former cook insisted that the meat from the paws required proper preparation.
In the army, the time before battle is more important than battle itself.
If life is good before combat, soldiers learn to feel rage at the death of comrades.
They learn to devote themselves to the wounded.
Only then can battle truly take place.
Victory is nearly impossible without shared barracks life.
War is not like the films, where one shot kills one enemy cleanly.
It is the anger born from wounded comrades that drives men to fight.
This uproar, this revelry—it was good.
Life in the open fields, among soldiers without rank between them, felt newly precious.
Lee Hee brought his heels together and bowed.
"By your command (尊命)!"
They called Soun and fed him the gall.
He swallowed it without knowing what it was, and when the bitter taste struck, his face crumpled—his eyes disappearing, mouth and nose drawing together.
The boy who usually spoke with an adult's tone returned to being a child as he consumed the gall.
He clutched his nose at the foul smell and swung his upper body left and right.
"Ha ha, it is good for your body," Jin Mugwang said with a smile.
If he could, he would have fed the boy an elixir and helped him grow great at once.
"Don't spit it out, Scholar Yu!" Lee Hee shouted.
Soun gulped it down.
The smell of blood, the stench, and a bitterness beyond words filled his mouth.
He forced it down and tilted his head back with a hoarse sound, and the metallic odor rose from within.
The soldiers skewered meat on sticks and roasted it.
They hung a cauldron and boiled broth.
There was so much that they had to collect salt and sprinkle it over the cuts.
The leftover meat was sliced thin and made into jerky.
The air was still cool; it would dry soon.
The roe deer meat was especially delicious.
Someone knew a method to remove the odor, and once treated, even the tough meat became splendid fare.
They sat in five or six groups, and the feast began.
Those roasting, those eating, those boiling—chaos reigned.
After some had eaten enough, Lee Hee called in the scouts and sent out those who seemed well fed.
The scent of roasting meat spread through the entire mountain.
Jin Mugwang sat with Lee Hee, Gyeongpil, and the two guards who always accompanied him.
"This is good, Hee-ya."
"Yes, it has been a long time since we hunted in open country."
"Indeed. There was little game there. Only wind across the desert…"
"Shall we just seize a mountain fortress somewhere and settle down?"
Lee Hee's joke was not entirely unrealistic.
Part of him wished it.
Someone brought forth liquor, likely hidden away.
They presented a single bottle before the general's group.
Jin Mugwang only touched it to his lips and passed it along.
"There is only one bottle, but let us share it."
The bottle moved from hand to hand, each man only moistening his lips.
Then Gunmyeong thrust it toward Soun.
"Scholar Yu, can you drink?"
All eyes turned toward them.
"No. I have not yet learned."
"Learn? What is there to learn? You just gulp it down."
"I will learn properly next time and drink then."
Though he refused, Gunmyeong grabbed Soun by the back of the neck and forced a mouthful upon him.
The boy's face turned red at once.
He braced himself against the ground, bending forward.
Gunmyeong prevented him from spitting it out and passed the bottle along.
They were stingy with the liquor, yet still wanted the boy to taste it.
The general gave him bear gall.
Gunmyeong gave him scarce liquor.
Soun was receiving the affection of them all.
His face twisted as it had when he swallowed the gall.
His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth pressed toward his nose.
It was the face of a mischievous child.
The face of a son left at home.
The face of family.
They laughed at the expressions he made after tasting strange things.
"Ahh."
The bottle did not make it to the end.
Even a mere touch to the lips could not suffice for a hundred men.
Yet they kept passing it around.