The Mook Maker

Viceroy Gam Youngjae opened his eyes. 

 

The strange, nagging sensation was tugging on his mind, forcing him awake; a quiet speech somewhere beyond the limits of the hearing drawing his attention, like whispered words too mumbled to distinguish.

 

It was always worthwhile to listen.

 

Many secrets were revealed to those who take notice of the little things in the background. 

 

He looked around. 

 

The viceroy was back in his chambers, alone, lying spread on the bedding, his robes of the office still on, a hat discarded nearby. 

 

There was no one around. 

 

No servants speaking in hushed tones, no guards to watch over him, no healers to tend his wounds, no one. The room was empty. Devoid of life, devoid of movement, devoid of speakers, devoid of witnesses, or threats. 

 

Only shadows and silence kept him company.

 

The room was darkened, dusk was setting in, the setting sun cast long shadows on the spacious bedroom.

 

He tried to tune in on the whispers, distant, yet still audible. 

 

For the moment, he thought there would be someone just behind the doors. A silk stretched between the ornamental frames of the door would betray his, or her, silhouette, even if there wasn’t any oil lamp burning in the hallways. 

 

Unlike the fortress he had lost, the palace hadn’t been built with the defence in mind. It was a place built for comfort, well-lit and spacious, to represent the influence and wealth rather than hold the attackers. 

 

Youngjae knew very well what to do if he didn’t want to be overheard in a place like this. He knew what he should pay attention to both to avoid eavesdroppers, and to nudge the secrets from the conversation.

 

His instincts seem to be betraying him.  

 

There was no one out there. 

 

Yet the whispers continued, quiet, nagging.  

 

A creak of wood. 

 

Those of status often overlooked servants, acted as though they weren’t there. Although Youngjae was certain there was no one behind the door in the hallway, there had been things he had learned to pay attention to. 

 

He still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of someone staring at him, raising the hair on the back of his neck unpleasantly. He kept listening. 

 

 Moments passed when he was almost certain it must be his mind playing tricks on him. 

 

Only then he tried to stand. 

 

Strangely enough, he could, no pains or aches, and certainly no blood, only the sweat against his silky garments, sore throat and dried lips. 

 

Perhaps… 

 

The last thing he remembered, a sharp agony which made him lose his consciousness, was more confusing than anything else, making him wonder what had happened, what the Spirits had done. 

 

It was their work, no doubt. There was something strange, something off, going on. 

 

He recalled the angry crowd, the Evil Spirits, a winged creature spilling from the tear in the sky made of wrongness that defied descriptions or comprehension - then a pain, and voice, and screams, and weakness, and…

 

Youngjae didn’t feel hurt, injured. 

 

Only thirsty. Very thirsty. 

 

There was a small tray next to his bed, a cup with a teapot. There wasn’t any tea, merely the water, already cold. 

 

He poured the water into the cup and drank it, then another. 

 

It didn’t occur to him, not at first, it may be poisoned. It was such a basic mistake. 

 

However, before he could curse his own carelessness…

 

A mistake that could cost him dearly. 

 

Whisper. 

 

Behind his back! 

 

He turned around. 

 

There was no one there. 

 

Corner of the room was drowning in the dim light of the day’s passing, empty, as it had been the moments before.

 

Then…

 

Then, only briefly, he glimpsed the unnatural, inhuman eyes staring at him from his left. 

 

However, before he could throw the now empty teacup at the supposed assailant, it disappeared, leaving him, once again, alone, leaving him wondering whether his own sanity was slipping away. 

 

Hushed voices echoed in the empty chamber as he scanned the room for enemies.

 

His breath was growing faster, and his heart was thumping inside his chest, and he couldn’t shake this unpleasant sensation he was being followed, he was being chased, even if he didn’t leave the confines of his chambers yet. 

 

Youngjae couldn’t see anyone.

 

No assassin brandishing a dagger in the shadows.

 

A setting sun cast the room in gloom, with no lamp to illuminate it, but left just about enough certainty that he was, he should be, alone.  

 

He looked around once more. 

 

His armour was there, on its stand, in the other corner of the room, and he found his sword in its stand where he had put it the day before.

 

Youngjae never thought of himself as a warrior, but it doesn’t mean that his enemies would leave him here with both the weapon and the armour. Or would they? 

 

The voices intensified, almost mocking, some nearby, some far away.  

 

He took and drew his sword. 

 

Yet, there was no opponent to cross the blades with. There was nobody in the room but him at all, only the voices. An endless, ceaseless choir echoed through his mind, like the ceaseless thunderstorm that threatened to bust out of his head. It was too much. They only got worse. 

 

His weapon clattered to the ground. 

 

The voices ceased. 

 

Not ceasing, quietened, continue to whisper to this ear, or perhaps through them, almost as if he wasn't even there, like a distant conversation he wasn’t part of, held behind his back, like the court scheme he wasn’t part of, threatening to uproot his position, his life… 

 

Maybe he was going mad. 

 

Or was it just a trick, a magic of the Spirits, as he recalled how the mad priest rattled on and on about the ‘ancient minds of evil kind’? 

 

He reached for this sword. 

 

Picked it up. Looked at it. 

 

A cold steel blade, polished and clean. He didn’t use the weapon recently, and he decided he wouldn’t use it now either. 

 

Gam Youngjae was above the thoughtless fools to die valiantly in the pointless battle, achieving nothing that inspired even more of the same idiots to do the same, assuming they weren’t forgotten completely in the mud of the distant battlefield. 

 

He was better than any of them. By far.

 

He sheathed his blade and returned it to its stand, and braced himself, forcing himself back to focus. 

 

A hailstorm of whispers continued regardless, distracting him, again and again, with the unparalleled ferocity, yet there was no one present to use this opportunity to attack the distracted viceroy from the shadows. 

 

He stood and watched. 

 

There! Shadows which moved when he didn’t look.

 

One to the left, then one to the right. He could catch the glimpse of it from the corner of his eyes. 

 

He steadied himself. 

 

The Evil Spirits. They left him here. After all, they were the last thing he remembered. 

 

It was their doing, Youngjae was certain now, and he decided to act as though they were already there. 

 

“Speak.” He commanded, tired of the silly games. Normally, it would be mad, to speak to the thin air, expecting answers, but the Viceroy was proven right before he could question his unreasonable assumption. 

 

The wolf spirit materialised on his left. 

 

He thought he saw that before, with the dark, black gleaming fur, dressed in the same armour his soldier wore. It spoke. She spoke, it was certain it was, in truth, her, but the meaning of the words spoken in the strange, alien tongue. Two words. 

 

“Repeat the words and the crack in the truth shall appear…” was the seemingly senseless quote San Hyun-Ki once mentioned he just recalled. Youngjae had dismissed them back then, as the unimportant babbling of his questionable advisor. 

 

He decided to not repeat the words. 

 

It only made the cacophony inside his head worse. 

 

Viceroy Gam Youngjae wouldn’t get where he was if he couldn’t control his emotions in a tight situation. 

 

Nevertheless, for all his collected posture, he was still shocked when he saw more wolf spirits appearing, the cold air shifting like the horizon on the hottest of summers, defying all what has been known. 

 

It wasn’t just that one.

 

There were six of them, all kitted with the same outfit, ready. They didn’t even need to open the door. They were already there, lurking in the dark.

 

He wouldn’t, and couldn't, fight the six of them. There was no point. They would have jumped him before if they wanted. 

 

Of course, the Viceroy would be guarded. It was silly, foolish, to think he would be left alone. Guards - or jailors - were to be expected. He would, however, never expect them to appear from nowhere, but he couldn’t show any fear or concern. 

 

Youngjae remained silent and collected. Listened. 

 

They said something; it was like the chant of the two words, but he didn’t understand their language. He wouldn’t understand if they were the Jin, either, but the barbarians would, at the very least, feel somewhat familiar, unlike the speech of the Spirits, which was not similar to anything known. Their speech simply defied comprehension.

 

The whispers inside his skull were maddening, but Youngjae managed to keep the straight face.

 

“Where is your warlord?” He asked. His eyes met with one spirit, and it’s - her - inhuman blue eyes. 

 

It - she - didn’t answer. 

 

Did he leave the city? 

He must have left, leaving one of his lieutenants to deal with the city, if they didn’t have any specific orders about the Viceroy. 

 

“Take me to whoever is in charge!” 

 

Gam Youngjae wouldn’t deal with the underlings. It took a while, but he couldn’t help himself to think that soldiers were equally dull wherever he looked, and the Evil Spirits were no different in this regard. Their matching looks made them hard to distinguish. 

 

They, however, led him out of the room. Whether they understood him remained a question. They hesitated, but only for a brief moment, no longer than he would have spent conveying with the advisor to translate. 

 

Where was his advisor, anyway? 

 

He collected his gat, an official part of his robes of office, customary for a high-ranking official, but left the weapon behind, while the Evil Spirits didn’t obstruct him, even in the slightest.  

 

No pushing, no shoving - maybe they were smarter and more behaved than the average Jin barbarian after all, he thought to himself. Youngjae would commend them for it if the endless, raging storm of voices, all inside rather than outside, didn’t threaten to burst his head open. 

 

It was worse when he looked at the spirits. They wore whispers like a cloak. 

 

He would still follow them if he didn’t catch the sight of his remaining men in the next chamber, one that was normally reserved for the special quests of the reigning viceroy, or his family, but left empty since he assumed the office. 

 

First, Youngjae thought they were dead, lying on the ground next to the table.

 

The Wolf Spirit escort didn’t protest, or even attempted to stop him when he headed to inspect the bodies. 

 

There was another of the Spirits there. A strange creature, with feathers like a bird for hair, and scales like a lizard, dressed in the celebratory folk dress often reserved for weddings, or other special occasions, the very best the commoners could afford. 

 

Youngjae struggled to think of it as a, but it seemed to be the case. The shape behind the dress betrayed its femininity, even though it defied any sense. The Evil Spirits in general defied any understanding. They may have reasons he would understand. At least he believed they did, but the rest of them were beyond this world.

 

“What did you do to them?” He demanded instead. 

 

She said something. Well spoken, more than the soldier wolf-likes, not repeating the strange mantra. There was a variety in her strange, incomprehensible speech, but the Viceroy didn’t understand the words, and she wasn’t afraid of him either. Rank, perhaps? 

 

Viceroy Gam Youngjae made a step towards the feather-head lizard. 

 

“Who are you!?” 

 

Their eyes met. 

 

It was a mistake. There was more that he could bargain for behind those amber slit pupils. The continuous cacophony inside the Viceroy went a thousand times worse, threatening to bring him down to his knees. 

 

Only after regaining his footing, and his focus, he noticed the food, the spilt porcelain bottle of liquor…

 

The scaly one gestured.  

 

His men, a remnant of his personal guard, were not dead. They were drunk. Completely drunk, with the finest wine from the palace, most likely, with the remnant of the modest feast, likely supplied by the Evil Spirits themselves. Some fruits he couldn’t name or recognize didn’t do well with alcohol, even if it was the best one on the land. 

 

Whatever they drank, or ate, drove them to complete stupor. It wasn’t unusual for soldiers to get drunk, even if it was with much cheaper alcohol.

 

There was a fitting punishment for his men… 

 

For stealing, for drinking on duty… 

 

He could think of several, but he dismissed the thought - there simply wasn’t the point now. 

 

Too petty, too inconsequential, there wasn’t anything to gain in attempting to maintain the discipline in the situation when it does matter.

 

He picked the bottle, a fine porcelain one that couldn’t come from anywhere but the palace’s selection, its content half split, and considered taking a sip. Drink with his men, who followed his orders without question, even if they were not awake to see it. 

 

Viceroy Gam Youngjae was trying to focus on the greater goal of securing his position now, the palace was already overrun, and the few men he had left would not make a difference even if they performed their duty without fail.

 

“No,” he said to himself, putting the bottle back. As much as he needed to dull the endless murmur threatening to burst his skull open, worsening with the well-dressed Spirit presence, he needed to keep his mind sharp, and focused. 

 

Later. 

 

“Who is in command here?” He asked, trying to keep his voice firm, demanding answers. Looking into the snake's eyes promised only pain from the endless onslaught of incomprehensible, yet commanding, voices. 

 

He didn’t get an answer. 

 

A few demands after he was gestured away. 

 

What were the scaly ones? 

 

They were too well dressed for servants. This one certainly was. 

 

Their healer called to see what was happening to his men? 

 

He had to leverage to keep the power. Any power. 

 

The scaly one had enough of him and gestured him away, unimpressed.

 

Him! 

 

The insolence. 

 

But then, his city was taken, likely. It was dead quiet now, and he recalled the angry crowd.

 

Viceroy Gam Youngjae was still largely clueless about how the Evil Spirits were commanded - but he would have to figure it out if he was to remain a viceroy. It required patience and self-control. 

 

Swallowing his pride, for now, and the pain of the choir screaming within his skull, he was led away. For his own good, it seemed, as keeping distance from the lizard decreased the ferocity of the voices within his head. 

 

Through the hallways again - towards the chapter from which he was supposed to rule the province. 

 

An audience, in what was once his throne room. The irony wasn’t lost on him. 

 

Viceroy Gam Youngjae may not be in control, but he was still in the know. 

 

He could leverage said knowledge. 

 

Inside the hall, on the seating that was once reserved for him to hold the meeting, and carrying the important decision, sat the terror personified, wrapped in the form vaguely resembling the enormous bat, its dark, leathery wing huge enough to hug a portion of the room. The body, vaguely feminine but covered in the soft black fur, was draped in the outfit that would be considered scandalous if it wasn’t made of the skin of a human. 

 

Youngjae struggled to maintain his calm against the primal fear growing deep inside. 

 

He watched the shambling bodies of men, controlled by unseen force, picked through the extensive collection of papers piled on the table that had been brought into the room, a content of the city’s archives, gutted apart, their keepers enthralled by the powers beyond the human ken. They presented them to the Spirit with wings, their movement ragged, devoid of will. 

 

Gam Youngjae's plans began to shatter. 

 

They knew about the archives, and already attempted to make sense of the records, and enlisted help of the inhabitants, even against their will. 

 

Do they even need him? 

 

The inhuman eyes glowing with indescribable eldritch powers looked up to him, away from the documents. They even had the map, Youngjae noticed. 

 

The voices, edging the corners of his consciousness, erupted in unparalleled intensity, like a storm, threatening to sweep everything, including himself, away, like torrents in the season of floods, plaguing the more fertile region. His mind was in the tide. 

 

The louder the voices, the higher the rank, he thought, in an attempt to distract himself from the experience. 

 

He realised he was spoken to. 

 

“...you know… the secret… Royal Inspector… in the city.” A human, a man, with his eyes empty, his veins blackened and bulging, spat out, and shook, almost like in fever, controlled by the Evil Spirit’s power. 

 

The human thrall presented a document to him stained with blood.

 

“What?” Youngjae managed, in surprise. 

 

“Secret royal inspector.” 

 

Gam Youngjae stared at the letter, pressed with the royal seal, tainted in the blood and gore, in surprise, then in disbelief, and then, with comprehension. 

 

Suddenly, his mind, fragmenting under the pressure of the voices, focused. He knew what it was. 

 

A letter of appointment. With the king’s seal on it. 

 

Among the madness and the powers beyond the mortal ken he was surrounded with at this moment, an official document was something he understood very intimately. He latched onto the idea. 

 

Secret Royal Inspectors were the eyes and the ears of the king, sent to local provinces to covertly monitor government officials, with the authority not only to access the local records, along with the office of local magistrate, but also to dismiss the officials in the king’s name. They were equal in rank to the local governors, and the Viceroy, if presented with the letter now in front of him, would have no option but to cooperate.

 

They would not only preside over the retrial for any cases they deemed unjust but also report any wrongs by the previous and current officials, back to the capital, and to the king. 

 

Except he never had a chance to meet with the undercover official. 

 

Why did the Evil Spirits care? 

 

“Where is the Inspector?” 

 

“Dead… we … think…killed armed men … causing … riot.” 

 

Of course, he thought to himself, despite the whispers.

 

“What is … secret… inspector?” The spirit queried 

 

The city magistrate acted to depose him!

 

They knew. 

 

Someone in the court, possibly the king himself, must have been suspicious of him before the war even started, otherwise there wasn’t enough time to appoint the secret official to keep an eye on him.

 

Instigating a revolt was unacceptable, the royal court would frown upon such action, even from the man appointed by His Majesty himself, but the war made any pleas and reports undeliverable, and the official royal hearing was impossible. Viceroy Gam Youngjae couldn’t be dismissed in the usual manner, in those circumstances, even if the Royal Inspector had the authority to do so…

 

War ruined everything. Not just Youngjae's own plans. 

 

Magistrate’s action suddenly made more sense. 

 

He was, however, not going to admit guilt. 

 

Not even to the monster from beyond. 

 

It was painfully clear that they were aware of the Inspector’s mission - either beaten the answer out of the man himself, or found the letter in which order was written - and intended to use the suspicion as a leverage against the Viceroy. 

 

He didn’t expect that. 

 

“They were to investigate the city’s magistrate.” Youngjae said, maintaining calm, even though it was just as likely they were here to investigate him specifically. Despite its rather prestigious status, the Surao had the appointed Viceroy - him - and there was also the city's magistrate. He could deflect blame.

In smaller regions, with only a magistrate to govern them, there wouldn’t be an option. He could consider himself lucky that the province he oversaw balanced on the thin line of unimportant and large enough. 

 

“Magistrate dead. City. Chaos. Magistrate we appoint. San Hyun-Ki magistrate! Pacify! Peasants!” The helpless human, its mind possibly long gone, spat out under the influence of the evil magic. 

 

“That is not acceptable!” 

 

They couldn’t do it! Should the magistrate die in the office, it was the Viceroy who assumed complete control until a new magistrate would be appointed! It was customary law. 

 

“The deal. He made. For you.” 

 

He was presented in another document. 

 

With his own seal on it already. 

 

It…

 

Youngjae read it, carefully, and after the second go through the writing, his sheer anger pushing away the ceaseless choir of voices that had assailed his mind with such ferocity to this point. 

 

“Treachery!” 

 

He found no other words for it. 

 

The decree, made in his name, would have him executed for treason on the spot, should he, along with this document, fall into the wrong hands. It reached far beyond agreeing with the tribute. It denounced a royal authority completely, pledging his full, unwavering assistance in the conquest…

 

Gam Youngjae wasn’t interested in the artefacts inside the forbidden treasury, even if the document pledged his full cooperation in seizing them. 

 

He blinked in disbelief. 

 

This was treason, an open rebellion against the throne.  Defiance of the mandate of heaven.  The ancestors would be rolling in their graves if they knew.

 

The sheer audacity rendered him speechless. Something like this hadn’t happened in a very long time, a few generations. As long as the current dynasty ruled, none of their appointed officials had turned against them in such an openly hostile fashion. 

 

He couldn’t possibly agree to something like this. 

 

Viceroy Gam Youngjae was about to snatch the false decree presented from the enthralled man’s hand, but the voices nearly drove to the background by the sheer anger he could no longer effectively hide, heaved with the fury that drove him to his knees. 

 

They didn’t whisper anymore; they didn’t even talk, they screamed, demanding order, demanding obedience. 

 

The headache robbed him of almost all his focus, of all his composure. 

 

The louder the voices, the higher the rank, 

 

Youngjae could sense the presence of the Spirit’s warlord long before he entered the hall, flanked by more of his followers. It was nearly impossible to stand in the presence of the warlord’s immediate retinue. The voices in his head screamed. 

 

He finally understood the maddened priest's warning - do not go near the white ones. 

 

However; the Viceroy wasn’t ready to give up just yet. 

 

As his skull pulsated with pain, he pointed towards the offending parchment, and nearly yelled, the voices in his head like the incoming storm that drew closer, but he wasn’t easy to roll over. He might not be one to win on the battlefield, but this, this was the fight he wasn’t going to lose. 

 

He didn’t understand the spectral warlord’s words, but the translation came soon enough, barked out by the seizing helpless thralls. 

 

“Healing? Need? You? Lord Viceroy?” 

 

“It was not agreed upon!” He protested. The agreement was beyond treacherous, it was idiotic, too - San Hyun-Ki has no authority to do this, and he, Viceroy Gam Youngjae, has no authority over the matters delegated there. Relics, property of His Majesty the King, was something he wasn’t even entitled to know, yet alone to decide. 

 

“Not agreed.” The warlord admitted, through his mouthpiece, “We found. It. Written. Your advisor. You sleep then.” 

 

“It is…” He yelled, 

 

The reply was quickly translated, the quality of which was rapidly increasing as the fiercest of tempests screamed within the Viceroy’s skull. 

 

Why?

 

“Without knowledge, yours done? Destroy paper. Never speak of it again, we will.” 

 

A fox spirit, her fur white as death itself, flicked her fingers, and the brazier in the corner erupted with flames. The voices didn’t stop. They ran on, on and on, without cease, without sense, or reason, of fire, of forts, of control, of crabs, as the very definition of insanity manifest. 

 

Where did all those thoughts come from? 

 

Focus! 

 

Youngjae grabbed the paper, ready to hurl it into the flames, destroying all the evidence of this. Then he stopped. 

 

He looked back. 

 

The thrall, once a young man, now more a statue of flesh enslaved to the otherworldly powers, still held the letter of appointment, stained by blood of the Royal Inspector that had been appointed to watch, and investigate, the officials of Surao. 

 

The hapless man couldn’t even move without the power holding him released. 

 

“We named sage the magistrate to restore the order. You remain the Viceroy.” 

 

He said, translating the warlord’s incomprehensible speech instantly, the previously mumbled words suddenly far too understandable, making Youngjae to stop. He considered: 

 

The treacherous, forged decree did specify his full support as the Viceroy, and the province he governed, as long as he governed it.  

 

Whispers beyond his hearing continued their innate, nonsensical conversation about the eggs, and the positions to reinforce.

 

The fact he understood them terrified him. It was like he was at the edge of losing his mind to the throes of madness that came with the Evil Spirit’s presence, but among all that disorder and nonsense, there was a thing that worried him even more. 

 

Would he be trusted if he went back, if his very appointment already warranted the time of the secretly appointed inspector to walk in his footsteps, even before the accursed barbarians had invaded?

 

Shouldn’t there be a war, his ability to manage the province would be brought to question in the court either way? It wasn’t unheard of to abuse the Inspectors as a tool for the intrigue, and might not hold the position much longer should the king’s army fend off the Jin. 

 

He looked at the paper. 

 

A few words were spoken.

 

He didn’t pay attention to whether he did understand him, once again inspecting the official decree, and then read its wording, made in the proper form, in his language, and there for the short moment, his battered mind focused, aside of the chaos, and whispers, and voices, and insanity, and he read it again.

 

Yes, it was treason. 

 

It may not even be within his previous responsibilities to decree such a thing. 

 

But if followed as written, he was appointed for life to enforce it. After all, the Spirits were after the relics, not the land, and could sail into the sunset with their prize. 

 

He carefully moved it away from the flames. 

 

Sparing the appointment of the inspector at the last glance, sent to recall him possibly months after he, himself, assumed the position, Viceroy Gam Youngjae made a decision. 

 

“Terms are agreeable as written.”