Dream in the Sky [Arthdal Chronicles]

Chapter 9: Closeness is Strength of Effect

The thick heat of the kiln bore down on Eunseom's back. He sat bent over the crate of untreated bronze cups, sanding the angles and corners of a cup to round it into its final shape. Eunseom's movements felt slow; it was his seventh cup of the day, and with the kiln in constant use, the heat was oppressive. Sweat ran down his forehead, but he didn't bother to wipe it off. There was no point.

"Lord Saya, may I have a moment?" one of the workers said.

Eunseom looked up to see that it was the slave in charge of casting the cups, then returned his attention to the cup in his hands. "Yes?"

"All the casts are in use right now. What shall I do?"

"Just take a break."

"But I could take over—"

"Don't work too hard," Eunseom said, not looking up from his work. There was a stubborn little bump on the stem of the cup, and Eunseom wanted it gone. "We'll need you in good shape tomorrow and the day after, so just take breaks when you can."

The slave stuttered, "You're too kind, Lord Saya."

Eunseom flinched. A slave called him kind when all Eunseom did was grant him a break for a job he shouldn't have to do in the first place. Eunseom looked up again, forced a smile on his face, and said, "Come back tomorrow. We'll manage without you today."

The slave's eyes widened, and he bowed so low that his head touched the ground. Eunseom frowned. Would Saya have done what he did right now? Probably not. He didn't know how his brother had treated slaves or anyone else for that matter, he knew nothing, really. He probably did a terrible job of being Saya. He had to become better, more convincing, just like his brother.

As he watched the slave leave the workshop, he saw the old man Yeolson walk by, a box of tools in his hands. He was on his way to the third kiln. He bowed to Saya, his face stony and not at all like he remembered. So Tanya still had not told him who he was.

Eunseom scanned the workshop and searched for signs of a tall, dark figure, even though he knew it was useless. Tagon never came to the workshop. Even during Eunseom's fortnightly reports, he kept everything short and to the point, and with his guards always nearby, there was almost no chance to get close to him.

No progress. He hadn't made any progress at all.

Every day was the same. Instead of getting closer to Tagon, he spent all his days in the bronze workshop, melting swords and casting cups.

Rinse and repeat, he told himself. Just hang in there and be patient. Don't argue with the council, don't start a fight with the Daekans, don't try to drive a sword through Tagon's guts, just act like the Saya from Tanya's stories. One day, his perseverance would pay off, and Tagon would let him get closer, would talk to him about his plans for Arthdal, would show him all his weaknesses. But when?

Eunseom heaved a sigh, wiped the sweat from his forehead, even though it was useless, and resumed his work.

As expected, Tagon didn't show his face today either.

*

The tavern across from the palace was noisy and crowded as usual. They sat in a dark, secluded corner; Gilseon poured him drink after drink, Daedae drank his own in the most sophisticated manner Eunseom had ever seen, and Eunseom just tried not to get too drunk. The head of the palace guards, the head of the scribes, and Tagon's son—they must have been the strangest trio to be seen drinking in a tavern.

"So, what do you think, Lord Saya?" said Daedae.

"You're looking for a way to improve the bronze alloy, you say?" Eunseom asked.