Chapter 38
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 038
Chapter Title: The Swindler's Return (1)
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There's one fact every Englishman knows.
The East India Company is a fucking joke.
It's been over a century since that company started bleeding money nonstop, so isn't it a mystery how it's still kicking? Of course, it's propped up by the taxpayers' blood and sweat. No wonder Parliament, which lives and breathes taxes, loses its shit over it.
[Why the hell does a single company have the right and authority to rule over more than 100 million Indians?]
Who knows.
It just sort of happened. They conquered by accident, then started governing by accident. After fighting wars against the Mughal Empire and various Indian princes who wanted to wipe the East India Company off the map—and winning—they suddenly found themselves ruling India.
But exploiting Indians to turn a profit? That never really happened.
Any 21st-century Korean would get it right away. Was colonial Korea under the Japanese some kind of docile pushover?
The East India Company, originally just a trading outfit, blinked and suddenly it was spearheading colonial rule. To collect taxes, they had to mobilize a massive bureaucracy. When taxes weren't paid nicely, they needed an army. To run an army, they built forts... and just like that, they were fucked.
Hell, the deficits got so bad they tried taxing tea leaves, and boom—rebellion in America, and it gained independence. In other words, the Mughal Emperor basically burned down his own country to hand America its freedom.
- Heonjong's reports aren't even that full of bullshit by comparison...
Anyway.
A den of inefficiency and corruption, a place whose very existence is a mystery.
Make a killing working hard at the East India Company? Yeah, right. It's all about skimming and smuggling on the side. My dad, Henry, did sock away some seed money from there before coming home, but who the hell reverses their fortunes on salary alone? You've gotta line your pockets.
And yet.
Among my connections, the thickest pipeline is the one my late father left me: his East India Company network. I can't let that rot.
Those folks know better than anyone that the company's on its last legs, so if I dig up some new 'revenue source' and hand it over, my rep will skyrocket.
Plus, it makes perfect logical sense.
The East India Company troops were called up for the Joseon expedition, so they deserve a cut of the action. Pure logic, right?
- So? You really gonna short East India Company stock?
You damn beast, you know what shorting is?
- Plenty of human bastards end up floating down rivers and out to sea after trying that shit!
Heh. Didn't know that one.
To reiterate, my biggest legacy is that East India Company network. If I short their stock while cheering for the company to crash and burn, my reputation tanks straight to hell.
So my "short" was more like this.
"The King of Joseon is interested in our army?"
"Yes, sir."
Back in Hong Kong, I had to brief the Earl of Clarendon on the treaties I'd signed.
My plans involving East India Company troops came in two flavors.
First up: obviously, embedding a British military advisory group in Joseon.
"There are a few issues with that. You aware?"
"I've got answers for all of them."
"Let's hear them."
"If British troops are garrisoned in Joseon, Parliament will definitely scrutinize the costs. Also, when other countries like France establish relations with Joseon, they'll invoke most-favored-nation status and demand garrison rights too. And conservative factions at home opposed to foreign troops might spark a rebellion."
"You know all that and still pushing for it?"
"Yes."
Hence, East India Company troops.
No taxpayer money spent—in fact, it pads their deficits, even if just a tiny bit. A few hundred men getting hired as mercenaries by a foreign king? Still counts.
I'd pass on actual British government troops in Joseon. Foreign soldiers camped near Hanyang? Creepy as hell. This Joseon needs to lay golden eggs for me—any minute now, some weirdo prime minister might stew me up for dinner.
"Joseon has... a surplus population right now. They're useful in ways Indians aren't."
"Useful how?"
"They're neither Muslims nor Hindus. For those sensitive about that sort of thing, Joseon laborers could be a godsend in all sorts of ways."
Indians and Chinese are shipped worldwide as "coolies" in this imperial age. Home's hell, so they're off to the promised land.
And honestly, Joseon's already damn close to hell.
Currently, it's in that thing... a 'Malthusian trap.' No chemical fertilizers, too many people—getting poorer by the day.
From the alt-history novels I've read, the fix is conquering Manchuria and mass-migrating Joseon people there. But sadly, I'm not possessing King Heonjong, so raising a million-man army to topple the Qing? Not happening.
So, ship out some Joseon coolies as a stopgap. Better than digging dirt for food in beggar-ass Joseon—off to the New World.
For now, it might just be a niche option.
But after the Sepoy Mutiny?
Once prejudices against Hindu and Muslim soldiers kick in?
British-trained Joseon troops.
Or a Sepoy unit of Joseon men paid by Britain.
Either way, prime course for building military experience and tradition.
"I'll discuss it with the East India Company. A handful of officers and a battalion or company-sized garrison? Not a bad idea."
"Thank you, sir. And..."
"What else?"
"My brother's in Joseon. Could you just... leave him there as a fixture?"
"...Not a bad play. Leveraging your connections would be more useful that way."
Sorry, bro.
But getting caught in the Sepoy Rebellion and dying? Way too unfair.
He might curse me now, but later he'll bow and thank me for saving his life.
I was absolutely sure Daniel wouldn't flip out yelling, "You bastard, dumping your India-seasoned big bro in some backwater Far East shithole just to climb the ladder? You even human? Wanna die by my hand?"
...Probably.
The Earl of Clarendon ordered me to head to London and explain everything to Parliament in person.
I'd acted as plenipotentiary envoy to Joseon, so technically, the treaties were sealed the moment I stamped them.
But Parliament in the British Empire? A pirate den where they spout whatever, then punch you if you complain. And Foreign Secretary Lord Palmerston? Vicious as Churchill.
Better I go explain the treaties' merits and get ratification myself.
But trials come out of nowhere.
It was when Joseon's historic first diplomatic mission to the West arrived in Hong Kong. Jo Byeong-hyeon of the Pungyang Jo Clan, appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to Britain, plus two royal princes—"instructed by the King himself to learn Western ways"—and a retinue of palace attendants and assorted officials for odd jobs.
No passenger liners in Joseon, so riding with me was a given.
And greeting them after the long voyage? Obvious courtesy.
But I ran into someone totally unexpected in the Joseon delegation.
"You bastard, dumping your India-seasoned big bro in some backwater Far East shithole just to climb the ladder? You even human? Wanna die by my hand?"
"No way! How the hell are you here, bro?!"
"You little shit! First words out your mouth are 'how'?"
Arrrgh!! Jar ghost! Save me! I'm under death threat here! Help!!
- Karma's a bitch, you moron.
Damn beast! If I die, you're jointly liable and fucked too!!
Bro hugged me like he wanted to snap my spine and ribs, but mercifully spared my neck. Military life made him violent, huh.
"Seriously though, how'd you really get here?"
"Took extended leave. Everyone from Joseon brass to army top approved it."
Extended leave? Already, for this bootlicker?
"Thanks to what you told me, convincing the Joseon folks was easier than eating cake."
"I told you stuff?"
"You said they obsess over family honor, right? I straight-up said, 'Arthur hasn't married yet, and this guy's not even thinking about a wife. As eldest son and family head, I need to go home and find him a match.' They all thought it was so noble—'Hurry back!'"
Bro shrugged with the swagger of victory.
Wow.
My nose got cut off right in front of my eyes.
"Fine, good excuse. So? What after picking a bride in England? Discharging?"
"What're you on about?"
He glared at me like I was a moron, face full of annoyance, as if he'd explained already.
"Obviously, pick your bride and head back."
"Why you?!"
"How old are you? Gonna stay single? Made a girl here in Joseon?"
"Nah."
"You wouldn't know, but I'm hugely popular in India too. But popularity ain't the same as taking a wife."
"Hold up."
Ah.
Got it now.
Joseon maybe, but East India Company doesn't hand out leave easy. Figures.
"And you?"
"Huh?"
"Why're you still single?"
"Well... I'm a free spirit, y'know."
"Bullshit."
"I'm looking for a fine widow, you punk!"
Finally snapping, violent Daniel wrapped his beefy arm around my mug and pummeled mercilessly. I'm dying! For real! Jar ghost, bite him! Rip him!!
- You've got a real talent for earning slaps with your mouth. Time for some Eton-style correction.
"As head of the family, don't I gotta build it up? Means snagging a rich widow with no kids, obviously?"
"Why would she pick you?"
"Handsome, charming, competent, battle-proven hero—how many guys like that marry down to a widow out of necessity? Don't worry. You don't need that; I'll find you someone good."
Marriage, huh.
Guess it is time.
My head suddenly got complicated.
And just like that, I got saddled with some random side quest.
We all headed to London together.
There are multiple ways to sail from China to Britain.
When I went back and forth on a junk, what was the goal? Trade. Lots of cargo, my own ship—so around the Cape of Good Hope, long haul.
But now's different.
Way less cargo, and time's more precious than ever.
So the ship leaving Hong Kong skipped the Cape and plunged into the Red Sea, docking in Egypt at Suez.
No Suez Canal yet.
So overland from Suez to Alexandria on the Mediterranean.
"British capital's pouring into Egypt. Soon, the Suez-Cairo-Alexandria rail line opens, and no more Cape agony."
"Heard talk of digging a canal at Suez?"
"Yeah. Frog ideas are all that retarded. But why build a canal for anyone else's benefit?"
Brits in Egypt were mighty cynical about the notion.
But it'll happen.
No canal or rail yet, so we took carriages to Alexandria.
Surprisingly faster than Cape route. Reload ship there to London. For light cargo, way better—and once rails are done, even freight's covered, per British calculations.
"My god. A whole other world."
"Sand everywhere you look...!"
Leaving the Joseonites' culture shock behind, we pressed on and on.
Finally, we returned.
To the land of fog, smog, and filth.
London.
"Joseonites!!"
"Jipang men! Jipang men are here!!"
"Look over here!"
Gawkers with nothing better to do and newspaper hacks swarmed.
"Over there!"
"Arthur Leigh!!"
"Daniel Leigh too!"
"Conquerors of the Far East! Brothers, over here! Here!!"
Huh?
What the hell?
"Bro, you hear anything?"
"Hahaha! That's right! I'm Daniel Leigh, toppler of kingdoms with one gun and one sword! Cheer louder!"
"Waaaaah!!!"
You maniac.
What nonsense is this.