After that, nothing much happened.
The underlings scattered like third-rate villains, shouting things like, "You'll regret this someday!" before fleeing in disgrace.
Once they were gone, the thugs who had followed them—just some riffraff picked up off the streets—dispersed as well, and I could finally enter my house.

Well, to be fair, acting so aggressively hadn’t done me any favors.
But I couldn’t help it.
Their arrogant attitude despite knowing exactly who I was had really pissed me off, and the resentment buried in this body’s memories surged up until I just let it all out.

As the leader of the Shilla Faction in Pyongyang, I had a fair amount of authority, but if they really decided to kill me, surviving would be the best I could hope for.

Of course, as long as the Great King was alive and well, the Shilla Faction wouldn’t dare go that far.
After all, Pyongyang was undeniably the Go royal family’s home ground.

A few more days passed.
In court, the Shilla and Baekje factions were still at each other’s throats, while nobles from various regions voiced their opinions and managed the kingdom’s affairs alongside the royal family.

Then, Lord Baekje submitted a memorial to the king, requesting that his grandson, Prince Geonmu, be granted the title of Lord of Khitan.
The Shilla Faction naturally opposed it, but there was no valid reason to stop the investiture of a prince who had already come of age.
So, for once, their objections held no weight.

Since Khitan held no particular political significance within Goryeo, the matter proceeded swiftly without opposition.
The Great King merely remarked that Khitan was a dangerous region and told me to take a strong escort.

Before long, a group of people arrived at my gate and began knocking loudly.

Bang, bang, bang!

"Prince Geonmu! We bear a decree from His Majesty the Great King!"

My attendants were startled to see royal messengers arrive so early in the morning, but I’d already heard the news from my mother the day before.
I had prepared myself and my attire properly and waited for them in the courtyard.

After a long preamble filled with ornate praise for the Great King, the messenger finally reached the point.

"Prince Geonmu is hereby appointed as Lord of Khitan.
The prince shall travel to his fief, comfort the people, and guard Goryeo’s borders."

I bowed and accepted the royal edict.

"I humbly accept His Majesty’s command."

That was all there was to the ceremony.
I thought there might be some grand ritual, like a Western-style investiture, but apparently not.
Maybe that was just how it worked here.

While most of my servants stood around, bewildered, the messengers and their escort left as quickly as they came.
Moments later, the subordinates of Lord Baekje—the ones I had shared drinks with days earlier—arrived in droves.
My attendants tried to stop them, but I waved my hand, telling them to stand down.

"Your Highness, we’ve already prepared your garments and travel supplies.
Is there anything else you wish to bring from the residence?"

I had sent word through my guards the day before, but preparing everything in a single night seemed improbable.
They must have heard directly from Lord Baekje’s faction.

After a moment of thought, I told their leader—let’s call him Chief—to pack some books from the library.
I considered bringing valuables, but realized I had none.
Any money I earned had long been squandered on pleasure.

Books and documents, though—that was real wealth in this era.

The guards didn’t complain about the weight.
As expected from Lord Baekje’s well-trained men, they obeyed without a word.

Once the library was cleared and the cart loaded, we left the house—only to find another group blocking the road.

A hundred or so centaurs stood there, armed and imposing.
Their armor was crude—fur vests, short swords, bows, and quivers—but the sheer power radiating from their muscular bodies made them far more intimidating than any human soldier.

If only they weren’t standing right in front of my house, this would’ve been a magnificent sight.

Sensing the tension, I stepped forward.

"So, who are you people?"

They whispered among themselves before pulling out a rolled-up hide and glancing between it and me.
Were they checking their target?
I gestured subtly, and Lord Baekje’s warriors tightened their formation around me, retreating slightly toward the gate.

"You must be Prince Geonmu."

To my surprise, the centaurs bowed—to the extent that a human torso could bow, at least.
I narrowed my eyes as the one in front spoke.

"The Queen asked us to escort Your Highness."

The queen? That couldn’t mean Queen Ilwangbi.
So, my mother? But how would a secluded lady like her know them?

The centaur leader saw my puzzled expression and continued.

"Her Majesty greatly aided us when our clan sought refuge here.
We don’t know much about human morals and such, but we do know one thing: a favor—or a grudge—must always be repaid."

I see.
Nomadic tribes are known for their fierce loyalty to their clans.
Even in times without written records, they passed down their ancestors’ stories through song.
If my mother had helped them, it made sense they’d come to repay her kindness.

"I understand.
I appreciate your help, but I’d still like to know who my escorts are.
Would you introduce yourselves?"

And so, they did—each and every one of them, one after another.
It went on for quite some time, but I didn’t interrupt.
They introduced themselves with such pride that cutting them off felt wrong.
We’d be spending plenty of time together, so it was best to build goodwill early.

When the long line of introductions finally ended, I approached the leader and held out my hand.
He stared blankly for a moment until I nodded toward his hand.
Then he reached out, and we shook.

Given the size difference between humans and centaurs, even I—tall by human standards—had to raise my hand high.

"Your name was Bokdeu, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"When you speak to me, just call me ‘Your Highness.’ That’ll do.
So, which tribe are you from?"

"I’m from the Shiwei tribe."

The Shiwei… ancestors of the Mongols, if I remember correctly.
In the real world, Mongols weren’t particularly tall, but these were centaurs, towering and broad-shouldered.
Well, different world, different rules.

Still, Mongol centaurs, huh?
If this world’s Mongols ever went on a conquest like in the 13th century, the devastation would be unimaginable.

A world united under a Centaur Mongol Empire…
Good thing that’s not my problem.
If future historians hate me for thinking that, well—maybe they should’ve managed their nomads better.

"Alright, I’ll be counting on you, Bokdeu of the Shiwei."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

He grinned brightly, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
Simple-minded or honest, I wasn’t sure—but they were the easiest people I’d met to get along with since arriving in this world.

As we marched through the capital, people on the streets parted like the Red Sea before us.
Seeing that made me realize just how high my status had become, and I couldn’t deny the swell of pride in my chest.

But the further we went, the more a strange unease nagged at me—like that uncomfortable feeling when you forget to wipe after taking a dump.
It wasn’t until Pyongyang’s northern gate loomed ahead that it hit me.

‘I didn’t say goodbye to my parents!’

Ugh.
That made me feel like the worst son alive.
But turning back now was impossible.
Marching this many soldiers into the royal palace would be suicide, and visiting my mother’s residence didn’t feel right either.
To be honest, I wasn’t even sure “I” had been on good terms with them in the first place.

Still, my mother had cared enough to send these escorts.
The least I could do was leave a message.

"Bring me a brush, ink, and paper."

Taha, who had been serving me lately, quickly fetched them—already dipping the brush in ink before handing it over.
I wrote a short note, thanking my mother and promising to return home in glory.
Once the ink dried, I folded the paper neatly and handed it to him.

"Deliver this to my mother."

As he was about to leave, that uneasy feeling tugged at me again, so I added one more thing.

"…Tell her I’m grateful for what she’s done this time."

A simple message, but it felt right.

Watching the messenger ride off toward my mother’s estate, the discomfort finally faded.

"Let’s move out."

As we exited the north gate, another large formation of soldiers awaited us.
Before tension could rise, their commander approached and handed me a letter.

"His Majesty ordered that this be delivered to you personally."

It was from the Great King himself.
Inside, he had commanded a detachment of the royal army to escort me as well.

‘Seriously? I have to do that again?’

After my mother’s message, now my father too.
Tears nearly welled up as I repeated the whole process once more.

"Should’ve just done both at once…."

By the time everything was ready, the sun was high.
We ended up eating lunch right there before finally setting off on our journey.