Lands of Ancient Goguryeo
The lands of ancient Goguryeo *** But the mines of today—not those of some distant future—were far too pitiful. It was only because they'd been laid in Gwiju before the Mongols arrived that they had any real impact.
"We know these paths well. We'll guide you."
"Thank you, General Ugaha. First, the Greater Khingan Range. This is the key mountain pass linking the Mongol steppes to the Yodong plains. You probably know it well yourself. We'll fortify it later."
"Ho, that sounds promising."
They'd need to select engineers for laying the mines too.
"Gorges within the mountains, riverbank passes, and the entry routes into the northwestern Yodong plains. We have to delay their advance as much as possible and wear them down."
Hiding iron cannon units in ambushes would work too. Though they'd said they'd lay mines, they couldn't do it right away. The mines of this era had a high failure rate. Better to install them a week or so before the enemy approached. She wanted to minimize duds as much as possible.
"But how effective will these mines really be? They were useful in the Gwiju battle last time."
They could at least slow the advance to a crawl. The Mongols, who knew little about mines before, must be aware of them by now. And honestly, even without Goryeo, wasn't Song doing it faster?
"In Gwiju, they were for blocking a central breakthrough, but just burying them changes everything. No need for ambushes—we can still catch them off guard. Think about it, Kim Jun. What if the Mongol vanguard commander accidentally steps on one and it blows?"
"That would pretty much end the battle."
Of course, that was wishful thinking. Just laying mines beforehand would force the Mongols to waste time clearing them. Oh, and they should make telescopes too. Worth a shot? Direct trade with Arabia for glass might make it possible.
Gaegyeong, Goryeo
The people of Gaegyeong were deep in a haze of national pride. After the victory at Gwiju, with the war still dragging on and no triumphant return of the army, they'd briefly suspected Choi U of lying. But if that were true, the Mongols would have pushed south by now, so it wasn't. And soon enough, Goryeo's esteemed Prime Minister Hapha delivered astonishing good news to the people.
"Our Goryeo army has captured Yoyang and destroyed Dongjin!"
"They say the Jurchens of Yodong swore loyalty to our forces!"
"Yodong's ours now!"
"Should our merchants head up there too?"
It might not hit the common folk hard, but they knew why the country was called Goryeo. And that one day, they had to march north and reclaim the ancient territories. Goryeo was meant to restore Goguryeo's lands. It was just that Liao and Jin had blocked the way north in reality. And this news reached Emperor Gojong and his assembled ministers too.
"What did you say? Does the messenger know what he's reporting?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Hapha's army has taken Dongjin's king, Posun Manno, prisoner and declared the region Goryeo territory."
Dongjin conquered, its king captured, and the land annexed as Goryeo domain. Dongjin lay in the northeast of Yodong, on old Balhae soil. Yes. Conquering a Yodong state like Dongjin was as good as conquering Yodong itself. Realizing this, Gojong's eyes trembled.
"Yo—Yodong conquered? But... if the war drags on, even victory won't quell the people's discontent for long."
Surprisingly, ample preparations had minimized issues. But crucially, from the royal house's view—where the military regime were little more than rebels—their leader had personally reclaimed ancient Goguryeo lands in Yodong.
'If Prime Minister Choi conquered Yodong, what does that leave for our imperial house?'
A few months later, the news finally reached the Mongols via stragglers.
"Salitai's dead and the army massacred?!"
"Yes! Hundreds of survivors before crossing the Amnok River—probably fewer now!"
"Not just routed, but wiped out? What is this Goryeo that dares humiliate us Mongols like this?!"
Not merely defeated?
"Khan! Dongjin fell to Goryeo, and their army now holds Yodong!"
Goryeo troops in Yodong. The same army that crushed Mongol forces had counterattacked and taken Dongjin. With Jin still unconquered, this was a nightmare for the Mongols. Goryeo, which they'd thought an easy conquest, had roared back. And that wasn't all. Soon after the defeat news, a letter arrived via those stragglers, making Ögedei clutch his neck.
Behold, Great Goryeo loves peace, but we have never forgiven barbarians who dare invade our lands. The Khitans learned this, and even the Jurchens, after their raids met our wrath and they founded Jin, never dared slight us again. You, fewer in number than we, presume to claim emperorship, and some tribal chieftain eyes Goryeo? We can no longer stand idly by your tyranny. Thus, we have mobilized to punish your rabble, seized Yodong, and fortified it. Should you fail to heed this and send another army against Yodong, next time Goryeo itself will march to claim your head.
The perfect victor's taunt. With 30,000 combat troops vanished—shaking eastern defenses briefly—Goryeo had provoked them.
"How dare they! How dare these Goryeo vermin spout such nonsense?!"
"Punish Goryeo at once!"
Only one path now. Even after losing 30,000, they could still crush Goryeo. No need to pull armies from the Jin front; 50,000 elites would suffice.
"Summon Subutai!"
Ögedei gathered forces once more to strike Goryeo.
Before Father headed to Gaegyeong, he'd left the Choi private troops and General Kim Gyeongson's army behind. Everything else was up to me. My tasks started with reforming Yoyang's administration. The Yomong War—from pursuit to end—had wrapped in nearly two months, but conquering Dongjin and me staying here had pushed us into 1233. Gaegyeong was mild; Yoyang felt bleak from being a battlefield.
Truth be told, I hoped the Mongols wouldn't come. We'd obliterated 30,000 pure Mongol combatants—not auxiliaries. Were Mongols populous? Chinggis-era estimates ran from hundreds of thousands to a million max—still fewer than Goryeo. They'd absorbed Jin defectors, Khitans, and Dongjin folk to bolster numbers, sure. But with Jin unfinished, mobilizing hordes was impossible. Losing 30,000 was fatal. Ögedei had two choices: accept defeat, cut ties or build equals with Goryeo, and move on. Or stake national fate on crushing us. I figured the latter. This era's Mongols were at their peak—replenishing via conquests, not squeezed between future China and Russia. And Father's taunting letter? Ögedei might go all-in.
Was Father trying to get me killed? His poor judgment was laid bare. In original history, he'd systematically murdered 72 darughachi (governors) dispatched by the Mongols, then fled to Ganghwa Island. More brazen than Khwarezm, who fell after killing a few envoys—and this after surrendering post-first war. Unthinkable to Mongols. Anyway. I hoped they stayed away. I'd ordered the home islands secured; stabilize Yodong, build strength. But that taunt gave Ögedei perfect pretext. Mongol pride demanded they smash us. Jin was crumbling—resisting but rootless. If their momentum broke, we could replace them. Even eye the Central Plains.
This victory might draw Jin envoys begging time—asking us to hit Mongol rearguards. Regrettably, with invasion inevitable, we'd comply. I'd suggested responses:
Manchuria as Jin's cradle made it tough, but with collapse imminent, why not? If my house were falling, I'd ignore neighbors grabbing ancestral turf. Jin's shift south made them a state anyway. Returning Balhae folk stabilized and populated Yodong. Some Jin refugees might fake Balhae ties to flee here, settle, and "Goryeo-ize"—we'd look away. Plenty might come. Smart folks flee dooming ships. Even Jin surrendering to Mongols? Coming to Goryeo's fine. Anyway, kimchi nation perks—I'd just mentioned it to Father.
Now, wield the real power handed to me.
"First, set up Yoyang's governing structure. It'll be Goryeo's direct territory, and though lacking, I'll oversee Yodong as Governor-General."
Yodong Jurchens, flip-flopping like bats, had defied Mongols. Too late to switch back—traitors don't get mercy. To survive, cling to Goryeo; add a trade port for ease.
"Dongjin's chiefs and generals fought for Goryeo this time. But as you know, Mongols won't sit idle after one loss. Though 30,000 Goryeo troops hold here, I think we need a separate force. Any objections?"
"We've sworn as Goryeo subjects. None."
"No, look—I'm a woman. Can you follow a woman?"
I didn't demand oaths yet, but overt groveling bred suspicion.
"You're Hapha's daughter, Governor-General. We saw you ride out in the Yoyang battle, loosing arrows yourself."
"Is that so? Didn't it look like some girl just pretending to shoot?"
"It was as if Abkai Hehuri descended to earth."
Hm. She blinked, momentarily speechless. Abkai Hehuri—the Jurchen sky goddess of shamanism. Later Manchus gender-swapped her to Abkai Han, but now she was female. And she'd skipped armor; skirt too cumbersome, so pants below, just gloves for archery. That impressive?
"Charging out bare of armor, shooting arrows—it truly evoked Abkai Hehuri."
Even Jurchens revered shamanism this much? A idea struck.
If it spread better than Buddhism, not bad at all.