Currency Reform
"So this is what they call a coin."
Her father turned the Sangpyeong Tongbo over in his hands, examining it from every angle. In the original history, these coins would be minted in Joseon much later. Of course, even Joseon never fully escaped its barter system despite minting them. But Goryeo now had several years of groundwork laid.
"Currency is a massive national undertaking. The people will exchange their rice and cloth for these coins at the exchange offices."
They converted the cloth and goods once used for barter into coins. In the past, anyone might have scoffed at following the military regime's orders, but the Choi regime was far more secure now than in the original history. With the emancipation of slaves and revitalized logistics, public sentiment toward the Choi clan had soared, and the people obeyed.
"Prime Minister Choi, currency reform was attempted during the reigns of King Seongjong and King Sukjong but failed. Won't this just confuse the people now?"
Gojong, sensing something amiss, tried to block the reform, but...
"Your Majesty, how can we settle for mere food before our eyes? This is about envisioning the big picture. Abandon currency, and our economy stagnates in self-sufficiency and barter. Goryeo's progress will crawl to a halt. Surely that's not what you want. Or do you think allying with the Mongols and dooming the nation is the better path?"
Not a chance. Gojong could only grumble; he had no real power to stop it. If they brought up the recent Mongol fiasco, what could he do? Starting in Gaegyeong, the coins circulated among the people, and once they began using them in earnest, soldiers received them too. In a military regime, you had to take good care of the troops.
They didn't hand out Sangpyeong Tongbo right away—that might spark a mutiny with cries of "What the hell do we do with these?" Instead, they demonstrated the coins' value first.
"You are the soldiers who will lead Great Goryeo forward. When the civil officials and emperor voice their doubts, we push through and build a money economy!"
She told the troops they were the nation's leaders, ordering them to use the coins diligently. As a bonus, the soap factories—framed as a gesture of goodwill toward the soldiers—distributed bars of soap by rank, large and small.
It wasn't like the bars were too tiny to use anyway. With the special soap distribution, currency circulation hit its stride.
"We should pave the roads too, but that might be a stretch."
For now, they'd keep collecting taxes by sea, but eventually, they'd need a proper road network. Roads were the lifeblood of logistics, after all. Best to lay the groundwork.
"Currency reform is now on track. Counterfeiters have been executed, and even the civil officials who opposed it at first are accepting the coins now. It's miraculous how a policy that failed under Kings Seongjong and Sukjong is succeeding."
Park Songbi seemed genuinely amazed at the reform's success. It was probably the first time coins had truly circulated among the people.
"Trade has boomed, more people are paying taxes, and we've secured copper from Japan. The stage was set to prove the coins' value—and that's why it worked."
"So policy success ultimately depends on the nation's circumstances."
Was her father only now realizing that? Better late than never. Otherwise, she might have had to shove him aside and take his place.
"We actually planned to delay the slave emancipation a bit longer, but the local clans, awed by our military might, rushed to free their slaves first."
The slave emancipation was borderline miraculous luck. Government slaves were easy for the Choi regime to liberate, but private slaves held by the clans could have rallied them against the regime. Crushing I Yang-mu and I An-sa hadn't united them—instead, emancipation had.
"Exactly."
"In the end, it's all because our clan was chosen by the mountain spirit."
"Hmm. Any other reforms we need?"
"Plenty."
"Tell me."
"We've reformed the military, boosted the economy, and crushed the clans to centralize power. So, what's next?"
The dim-witted martial officials loyal to the Choi clan tilted their heads at her question. Daejipseong was the first to speak up.
"Hahaha. Doesn't that mean we're done? Now we just rule with an iron fist, solidifying the foundation of power under the young lady..."
Classic Daejipseong. Even Choi Chungheon had written him off as hopeless. He'd botched the first Mongol war so badly he was Goryeo's version of Mutaguchi Ren'ya. Anyway, ignore him.
"Our military strength has largely recovered, and the Mongols will cross the Amnok River someday. We need to ensure rapid troop movements in emergencies, strengthen communications between key strongholds, minimize logistics costs and times for trade hubs, boost local control, and smooth tax and tribute transport. Roads will achieve that."
"Road maintenance."
"The road from Byeokrando to Gaegyeong exists, but we need to expand it nationwide for better flow—connecting granary regions to industrial zones. That's priority one for greater prosperity and a solid road foundation. Then link major military bases to prepare for the Mongols and connect local counties."
"It'll make currency circulation easier too. But that's another massive national project—not something done overnight, and it'll require huge labor. Any solutions?"
There weren't any real shortcuts. Roads in this era meant brute force.
"Start with roads from the south to Gaegyeong. Leave the north for now to prepare for Mongol invasions. Mobilize corvée labor from those who can't pay taxes immediately, pay them in coins. Fund it with the massive tariffs and trade profits from Byeokrando."
"Is it that important?"
Even the civil officials loyal to the Choi clan looked curious.
"Taxes flowing nationwide via roads fill the treasury faster, stimulate travel and logistics between counties, and strengthen national finances."
"How wide should they be?"
Wide enough for two wagons to pass.
"Roads from Byeokrando should accommodate at least two wagons crossing. Pack the earth or pave with stone for all-weather transport."
"That'll require relay station overhauls and ongoing maintenance."
"We'll dispatch local officials to manage roads. Then Goryeo will be richer than under King Hyeonjong."
"Currency reform is just getting started, so we can't go all-in yet, but rallying volunteers in the south to connect key counties first sounds good."
Her father was getting enthusiastic. She'd end up doing all the work anyway—unfair, but he wouldn't hog the credit. Even as heir, he'd need the troops' support for stable rule. The retainers knew all policies came from her mind.
Incidentally, integrating the 2nd Army and Six Divisions into the Byeolcho Army shifted the system to a Byeolcho-dominated structure. She'd been cultivating those troops, with soap playing a big role. She'd steadily won over Ugaha's Jurchen Byeolcho remnants too, positioning herself like Yi Seong-gye among the Jurchens. Making Manchuria's Jurchens Goryeo subjects wouldn't be hard.
"But while we fight the northern Jin, can Mongol cavalry cross the Amnok?"
"They're bloodthirsty beasts. For rear stability, they'll invade Goryeo."
If only Jin could hold its own weight. But even while getting pummeled by Mongols, Jin attacked Song to build strength—disastrously. In original history, pincered by Song and Mongols, Jin got skinned alive like a dog on the hottest day. Its capital overflowed with starving refugees until it withered away.
Honestly, fighting before Mongols absorbed Jin's power was ideal. Dragging it out meant facing Mongols bolstered by hundreds of thousands of Han troops. Better to fight a pre-absorbed Mongols and divert their gaze here than a stronger foe.
"It'd be nice if war never broke out."
Yi Gyubo sighed. A master of poetry and prose, he'd been trusted from Choi Chungheon's days through her father's, even pivotal in Mongol diplomacy. Sure, some called him a Choi flatterer, but it was pragmatic. The Choi regime ran the country; opposing them crippled governance. Whether he'd handle Mongol diplomacy here was doubtful—after Goryeo bloodied their nose, Mongols wouldn't negotiate.
"If mighty Jin crumbles like that, Mongols absorbing its power will demand submission from Song—and us. Brothers today, vassals tomorrow, or outright annexation."
Original history's Yuan-Goryeo ties were uniquely precarious. After 40 years of resistance including Sambyeolcho, they barely got son-in-law kingdom status. If Goryeo shone against Mongols, they'd see conquest as necessary. No survivors, like the Western Xia.
"So until then, we secure maximum finances and military might? Roads are essential for that."
"Yes."
Harsh as it sounded, stabilizing the Choi regime meant reforms and public support. Her father knew it now; he'd push them to hold power. Like a black-company CEO playing the villain, maximizing welfare to squeeze output without complaints for "corporate results."
"How long for road maintenance?"
"Even limited to the south, five years for basics. Ten more for secondary networks and full systems—assuming ample labor."
That presumed minimal resistance and full cooperation.
"Ten years, minimum five—can't wait that long. Accelerate in the south."
She'd love to delay war with Mongols longer. They were arrogant butchers now. War was the privilege of the strong. Ignorant of Goryeo's power, they'd invade like original history—or sooner. Finish roads, and a sudden Mongol assault would be disastrous. Time flew unpredictably.
Honestly, the last five years' achievements were enough for the Choi regime to coast on legacy. But losing it all to Mongols? Unthinkable. They'd barely restored and grown the nation ravaged by military rule. No Mongol reversal allowed. Until then, build strength maximally. Block—and defeat—the Mongols.