#consipracy

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August 22, 1392, 3 days before the assassination plot

Hwi had tried to explain, but in the end, he’d thrown up his hands and said, “If His Highness met the learned man who created the medicine, and saw him under its effects, would that salve his royal paranoia?”

Bang-won had, rightfully, refused to acknowledge Hwi’s tone or the mocking content of the question, but he allowed, with the slightest dip of his chin, that he was willing to entertain the notion. He had agreed to hear Hwi’s plan, and the alternative seemed to be taking two arrows to the chest without any aid at all. Bang-won did not mind pain, when necessary, but he wasn’t the sort to seek it out either. He wanted to appear mortally wounded; not actually have to bear such trials. 

Still, he found something nearly hypnotically compelling about the complex scheme Hwi had woven in his study that evening, a web of ambition, corruption, and hubris that went nearly 30 years deep. If Bang-won could bring such schemes to light, surely his father would realize that his true sons, men grown and filial were better at his side than a mere child who had needed padding to fit the mantle of the Crown Prince to his tiny brow.

So it was that Yi Bang-won first met Park Mun-bok under a waxing crescent moon, and learned that Seo Hwi, in addition to being thoroughly fearless and clever as a fox, was also quite mad.

“That man has no medical training,” Bang-won had snapped at Hwi, five minutes into the interview, as Mun-bok stood before them.

The medic bristled. “Training? What kind would you prefer I had? Dusty tomes, written by old men who could barely remember what having blood flow through their limbs felt like, or actual, hands-on experience reattaching limbs in the midst of battle?! One’s a lot more practical than the other, let me tell you!”

“If you come within arm’s length of my limbs, I’ll arrange to have your fingers cut off,” said Bang-won nastily, and whirled to face Hwi again. “I allowed you to make a mockery of me when we met because your motives were intriguing. You will not continue--”

“No one is mocking,” said Hwi soothingly, and tipped his head at his crazed ‘medical expert.’ “Mun-bok really has done impossible things. He sewed up Nam Seon-ho’s stomach, from the inside, at Liaodong.”

“I don’t know why you bothered,” Bang-won snipped, but raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the ridiculous Mun-bok. “Is that true?”

“Aish, let one of your retainers open up yours, you certainly do enough belly-aching, you entitled rooster. Then we can find out,” said Mun-bok, and Bang-won’s eyes narrowed as he reconsidered ordering Tae-ryeong to cut off at least some of Mun-bok’s limbs.

Hwi’s other companions, who had accompanied Mun-bok to his interview, exchanged glances. “Perhaps if you just show His Highness the medicine?” suggested the larger of the two. The older, dour fighter cut his eyes over at Hwi, but all Hwi did was roll his eyes slightly.

“Mun-bok.”

“Fine, fine. I only created a minor medical marvel, but by all means, let’s waste it on theatrics.” Mun-bok pulled out a pill the size of a small rice cake and held it up between his forefinger and thumb. “This will allow you to ignore all pain, as if the wound doesn’t even exist. The more serious the wound, the shorter the time the pill is effective, but for a while you can go on as if nothing has happened at all.”

“What else does it do? Does it damage you?” asked Bang-won.

“Only if you take too many at once. It paralyses you, a bit. Part of the numbing. In order to make you look sufficiently weak, you’ll need a heavy dose,” Hwi allowed.

“Well let’s see it, shall we?” said Bang-won. “Does it take long to go into effect?”

“Not long, a moment or two,” said Mun-bok. “I make very effective medicines, else why make them at all?” And he held the pill up showily, then popped it into his mouth and chewed up the crushed medication with a crunching noise.

“Excellent,” said Bang-won, picking up his bow and an arrow he had resting on the tabletop. Before anyone could react, he’d nocked the arrow and released. Mun-bok staggered back, then stood up straight, the greater part of the shaft and fletching protruding from the upper part of his shoulder like a gruesome epaulet, and the wiry man glared at Bang-won, mouth opening and closing in indignation as his older, martial companion half drew his sword and Tae-ryeong stepped in, shaking his head. 

“What was that?” gasped Mun-bok. “I thought the royals were supposed to be civilized?!”

“A demonstration, and a reminder of who you’re addressing,” said Bang-won smoothly, and turned to Hwi. “He really doesn’t feel it, does he?”

“The pain suppression doesn’t stop injury, or a wound becoming poisoned, Your Highness,” said Hwi, concerned.

“You’ll find I shot nothing vital,” said Bang-won breezily. “The arrow was clean. It’s the kind of injury a halfway-decent scholar of healing should be able to clear up with a few days bedrest.” He narrowed his eyes at Mun-bok and added softly, “You are a halfway-decent practitioner, yes?”

“We don’t have a ‘few days rest,’ you gold-plated pisspot--” 

“I think what Mun-bok is expressing is that we need to be ready to put the diversion into motion at any time, Your Highness,” said Hwi quickly, overriding Mun-bok. “We don’t know when Nam Jeon will make his move, only that it is likely to be soon now that His Majesty has declared the Crown Prince.”

“What we have to hand will suffice,” declared Bang-won, still airy. “We do not require your medical expert to administer the pills, do we? Or to apply the appearance of the assassination? Only to attend us after, and it will be a less urgent matter away from the treacherous eyes of those we wish to deceive. Your being slightly slowed is no difficulty,” Bang-won told Mun-bok condescendingly.

Mun-bok hissed through his teeth and glared over Hwi’s shoulder at Bang-won, but the dour fighter that had accompanied them had rested his hand on the wiry medic’s uninjured arm, and if Mun-bok had further invective to fire Bang-won’s way, he kept it under his own tongue. This pleased Bang-won, that he’d made his point-- Hwi’s subordinates might be stubborn, brave, and cunning, but he was a prince of the nation, and of a different class entirely. Proper respect would be paid.

“You agree to the plan, then?” asked Hwi.