Reforms Possible Only for a Power Minister

Meanwhile, rumors spread among the local clans that provincial officials would be dispatched from the Chojung Dogam. The hojok, who had quietly regained some of their old authority since the military regime took hold, had no choice but to view the capital's policies with suspicion.

"What's suddenly going on in Gaegyeong?"

"Isn't Choi Sangguk—Choi U—trying to test the loyalty of the hojok?"

"You really think so?"

But all of a sudden? They'd been currying favor with the Choi clan for a while now. Why would the Chois suddenly demand oaths of loyalty in this situation?

"I hear those Mongols or whatever are still pressuring Goryeo. Even our taxes are starting to flow their way."

"Or maybe it's war?"

"No way—the opponent's the Mongols, who crushed a great power."

Could Goryeo really win against those Mongols? Sure, the hojok lorded over their domains like kings and reaped the benefits, but they weren't blind to how Goryeo was faring. The military regime might be stable now, but could it beat the Mongol army? No way.

"We need to watch the situation for now."

"War hasn't broken out yet, after all."

If war did erupt, would the hojok have to send out troops? That question alone gave them pause. They'd have to muster some forces in response to any conscription order, but they couldn't send everything. The loyalty of the hojok would ultimately depend on how the Chois handled it.

Iron cannons are far easier to train with than bows. In the time it takes to train seasoned archers, you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could probably train several times more matchlockmen. Joseon mass-produced them after the Imjin War, boosting the proportion of matchlock troops. Didn't save them from getting utterly wrecked by the Qing, though.

The problem is, we can't crank them out like that yet. It's not impossible to make them, but bows are still the mainstay, and for durable ones, we'd need something like cast iron. Wrought iron would work in a pinch, but performance would suffer.

So, at least stock up on bows—the pride of our people for millennia? Even that's tricky without water buffalo horns. You can make bows without them, but how great would it be to have those splendid water buffalo horn bows? The heukgakgung, that is.

Alright, let's think. How do we get water buffalo horns?

Unlike the isolationist Joseon, Goryeo thrived on international trade. Byeokrando was an international trade port at the mouth of the Yesong River, bustling with foreign merchants and envoys. Nearby, traders from Song and Japan; farther afield, from Annam (Vietnam), Siam (Thailand), and even Malabar (India). And way out there, Islamic merchants from Arabia.

It's said that through those Islamic traders, "Goryeo" became "Khuriya" in the Islamic world, evolving into today's "Korea." There were even guesthouses like the Obingwan for foreign merchants.

Of course, Chinese merchants were the most common, being closest. There was even the Suncheongwan for entertaining Song envoys.

Byeokrando's prosperity was so immense that even scholar Yi Gyubo, under the military regime, described it in his Dongguk Isanggukjip:

In other words, even during the rotting military regime era, the international port thrived. After Goryeo fell, it declined in Joseon times, reduced to a mere tax-collecting ferry station.

Funny thing: even King Seonjo's annals lament how the previous dynasty Goryeo was so wealthy, yet Joseon is poor—and they couldn't figure out why. No wonder they stayed poor. Goryeo's prosperity outshone Joseon.

But right now, Byeokrando is still a thriving trade hub. That's where I met a Song merchant.

"A merchant from Song, I presume."

"Yes. I supplied medicinal herbs to the Hapha's household. To meet the young lady he cherishes so—truly an honor."

He sent herbs to our house? Hmm. Some were rare enough that you wouldn't expect them if we were just squeezing the people dry.

"But how did you find me?"

"Could you procure water buffalo horns?"

Straight to the point. I knew it was impossible, but testing the waters was key.

"My apologies, miss. Water buffalo horns are a prohibited trade item."

Damn, Song's changed. They won't even give horns despite how well we've treated them? Trade seems open since merchants still come and go, but horns are off-limits.

"Then how about live water buffalo? If Song can't manage, via the southern barbarians?"

"Is that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠feasible in Goryeo?"

"We'll give it a shot."

Horns were banned, but I'd heard Song had gifted live buffalo to Father Choi U before, not wanting to irk him. That's canon history too. Nothing's certain yet, but worth a try. Plenty say you can't raise them here, but with effort? Joseon managed it in the south. Why not Goryeo? Raise them southern-style, using pairs like in Southeast Asia.

"Then, could you get more Goryeo celadon? Or mother-of-pearl lacquerware?"

"That much I can arrange."

Water buffalo would be ideal. If not, oh well. Things will be busy for a while.

On the way home, it hit me—I hadn't seen Manjong and Manjeon lately. Those pests who always bugged me.

"Chunsim, where are Manjong and Manjeon these days?"

They've been scarce. With big sis here, are they already chasing skirts? Nah, not after all I've drilled into them.

"The young masters have been devoted to the Byeolcho Army lately, training in martial arts."

"Really?"

I doubted my ears at Chunsim's words. Those guys? Historical industrial waste? Sure, I've brainwashed—er, educated—them here, so they won't screw around if they have any sense. But the Byeolcho Army is strong, objectively. Not nationalism; records show they won most sorties against the Mongols. The Choe regime wouldn't pick just anyone to guard them.

Still, I can't picture those two excelling, even with training. More like, "Eh, they'll manage that much."

"They said they want to become men who protect women."

Become men who protect women? What nonsense. I never brainwashed them that hard. Just warned them not to screw up by avoiding women clumsily. Guess that's why their thick heads led them to monkish thuggery in the original timeline.

"Fine, but don't go getting played like suckers."

Not bad for me, though. If they become my hands, feet, and sword, filling my gaps as a woman. They're volunteering to be big sis's loyal pawns—who am I to refuse? Kinda feels like what it's like being the girl watching simps bring gifts.

Surprisingly nice. With Kim Yakseon gone, Father's got no other heirs. One of them takes over if not me. If they stay this devoted, what's off-limits? Backup plan secured if I don't inherit.

I summoned my brothers and laid it out clearly.

"Don't push too hard, okay?"

"Do we seem unreliable, sis?"

Unreliable? Everything about you. But what can I do? You're my lovable little bros. Industrial waste or not, can't discard family—gotta embrace them, mommy issues and all.

"Of course not. You're just young; I worry it'll backfire because of me."

"Didn't you save us from becoming monks? We must repay that grace."

Burden much? Hope this doesn't ruin their marriage prospects because of me. Worst case, I'll make it a shogunate later. But ideally, evolve the regime into a council over heredity. King's symbolic anyway; play the board right, it's doable. Why fight if I grab what's mine?

Still, they need wives and kids so I can pass the clan to one. Can't inherit the regime? Fine, the family endures.

Probably three-day enthusiasm anyway. Soon they'll cling, begging for stories.

"Hmm, do well from now on. Big sis believes only in you two."

"Thank you."

Hugged them lightly; they grinned happily. No clue how they'll turn out, but better than canon. I rationalized trusting them—then Kim Jun came rushing.

"Miss! The Hapha summons you!"

"Father?"

Kim Jun's urgency meant Father knew. About me trying to import ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠buffalo via Song.

"I hear you met a Song envoy privately. What's the reason?"

As expected, Father's tone sharpened in the Chojung Dogam.

"Father, we've got two years left."

"So you'll show off more of your talents?"

He sounded pissed this time. Meeting a merchant headed to the Hapha's house without ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠telling him? Looked like an immature kid overstepping after some successes.

If it were just trinkets, fine. But this? Face it head-on. I kept calm, smiling softly.

"Yes, I sought water buffalo horns. Even running the Hwapogwansa, I'm still this nation's Hapha's daughter—surely I can discuss this much?"

Father's expression softened at last.

"Song won't export them."

"Not horns—the buffalo themselves."

"Fine, say we do. But importing them just for horns?"

He shook his head skeptically. Understandable at first glance. But hear me out—it changes everything.

"Goryeo once absorbed Central Plains' advanced culture, thriving to the point we barely need China trade now. But advanced tech isn't just from China. Water buffalo from the southern lands enable paired-plow farming, unlike ours—massively boosting rice yields."

Superior ag tech, in short.

"Raising them's the issue, no? Heard they're vicious and die easy."

I'd considered that. But Joseon bred them in the south despite troubles. No reason Goryeo can't in our milder south—no brutal winters. Survival rates up, adaptation possible. Politically smart too.

"Raise them in the south. Perfect chance to test hojok loyalty."

Yes—test the hojok. Raising buffalo down south? They'll pitch in.