The Hanza Alliance
The single word that best described Tao Qian was undoubtedly opportunist.
A mere local county magistrate who had bounced from post to post, he had earned the governorship of Xuzhou—a province of six million souls—through his contributions during the Yellow Turban Rebellion. By recruiting the notable scholars of Xuzhou, he had positioned himself as one of the key players in this chaotic era. He knew how to scheme when necessary, and he had worked hard to heal the scars left by the Yellow Turbans by implementing the tuntian military farming system. His personality wasn’t particularly pleasant, but he stayed well within the bounds of a typical grumpy old man. While he preferred flatterers over loyal critics, few warlords of this age actually enjoyed hearing harsh truths from their retainers. All things considered, he was about average for his time.
“A bastard son… who became a commandery governor’s son-in-law… Hmm…”
In truth, to Tao Qian, Gongsun Zan was the kind of man who made him think, If I had been younger when the world fell into chaos, could I have become something like that? Both were illegitimate sons. Both had become sons-in-law to commandery governors and thereby gained proper official posts. Both had risen to become major warlords through the Yellow Turban Rebellion. This similarity in their paths had fostered a certain sense of kinship in Tao Qian.
Of course, Tao Qian himself was not the sort of man who could conquer an entire province in a single night or openly defy Dong Zhuo and bend him to his will. Still, just as ordinary people often feel admiration for someone who rose from a similar background to far greater heights, Tao Qian harbored a kind of awe toward Gongsun Zan.
“Nangnang Commandery… Just what is the Duke of Yan doing, summoning me all the way to this remote borderland?”
He knew quite a bit about the distant lands of the Eastern Yi. It was the region where the assassin Canghai, who had once tried to kill Qin Shi Huang, had come from. It was where King Jun had crossed over and claimed a foothold. It was a land that had long bordered and fought against the ancient state of Yan. It was the barbarian territory that You Province had tried to keep in check by establishing the Liaodong Commandery as its vassal.
Somehow Gongsun Zan had managed to befriend those very barbarians, and after being appointed Duke of Yan, the region had stabilized. Still, the coastal areas of You, Ji, Qing, Xu, and Yang provinces along the Yellow Sea had always been notorious breeding grounds for pirates from Joseon and its successor states, the Three Han. Being summoned to a dangerous frontier region bordering barbarian lands, with his escort limited to no more than a hundred men, felt less like an invitation and more like a veiled threat. Yet there was the excuse of a banquet meant to foster friendship with the Eastern Yi, so bringing too large an escort would have lacked justification.
With no other choice, Tao Qian had selected a hundred of his finest soldiers from Danyang as his guard. He also prepared a gift—fine white jade, which he knew was Gongsun Zan’s favorite.
They crossed the Yellow Sea by ship, disembarked at the trade port in Daebang Commandery on the southern tip of the Liaodong Peninsula to recover from the journey, then rode carriages along the strangely paved roads made of crushed stone all the way to Nangnang Commandery.
“Is this road the work of the Eastern Yi? Remarkable… If roads like this covered the Central Plains, even a million-strong army would never go hungry.”
“…My lord, if so many roads are built, won’t the barbarians simply use them to invade more frequently?”
“They’ve planted trees densely along both sides of the road. If enemies invade, we need only fell the trees to render the path unusable.”
Not every road was fully paved yet, but along the major trade routes that had begun to spread from the large ports, rows of trees had been planted on either side. The paulownia trees, which grew only on this peninsula inhabited by the Eastern Yi, could reach over ten feet in a single year. If invaders tried to retreat, simply cutting down the trees to block the road would suffice. Of course, felling such large trees wouldn’t be easy, but if it came to it, they could always douse them in oil and set them ablaze.
“Enough with the idle chatter. Pay attention. I can hear music. It seems we’ve nearly arrived.”
Whether he was sticking his head into a tiger’s maw or seizing the opportunity of a lifetime to protect his own life and his family’s safety in this turbulent age, Tao Qian couldn’t yet be sure. But his entire life had always been a gamble. He had never won big, but he had never gone completely bankrupt either. And a man of Gongsun Zan’s stature had no reason to be so desperate as to take his life in such a remote place. The scales in his mind tilted slightly more toward survival than death.
The banquet gathering the powers near the Korean Peninsula was scheduled to last several days. Of course, since it was the first such meeting, the only attendees were Gao Yanyu, the younger brother of the King of Goguryeo, Crown Prince Kim Yang-ho of Mokji Kingdom, and Seok Na-hae, grandson of the Isageum of Silla. Conversely, it also meant that the leaders of those three countries had calculated the potential benefits of this meeting faster than anyone else.
There were, of course, uninvited guests. The first was Hualian, the Xianbei Queen from the north. The other was Tao Qian, Inspector of Xuzhou.
“Does the food and drink suit your taste?”
“Kiya! Our Son-chan’s food is absolutely incredible, isn’t it? Don’t you all agree?”
“Ahem…”
“Y-yes… indeed…”
“This is quite delicious. Is it Xianbei cuisine?”
“Obviously. Back when my father was still alive, he used to make this often. Son-chan learned it perfectly. Mmm! I give it my highest praise!”
Tao Qian wore a deep frown, clearly displeased by the gathering of these ‘barbarians.’ The two young royals from Mokji and Silla—who had yet to rise beyond the level of city-states—were carefully reading the room and calculating the international situation in their own ways. Hualian paid no mind to tension or decorum, happily downing snacks and liquor as she enjoyed the feast. Gao Yanyu, the Goguryeo prince, was displaying the natural sociability of his people, moving from group to group. The inherent cheerfulness of the nomads was somewhat softening the scheming darkness of the politicians in the room.
“Well then, it is time to gather everyone and speak of what I wished to discuss.”
He gestured to a servant to summon the distinguished guests. Soon the doors of the hall opened, and in walked Liu Hwa, Inspector of You Province, Guk Ui, Inspector of Ji Province, and Cao Cao, Governor of Yanzhou.
“I have gathered the rulers, warlords, kings, and their representatives from various regions here today because there is one idea in my mind that I wish to share with all of you.”
Many people overlooked this fact, but the logographic script known as Chinese characters possessed one surprisingly significant advantage. Though difficult to learn and troublesome when creating keyboards or printing type, each character carried its own inherent meaning. Once someone became literate in this system, they could communicate through writing with anyone else in the Sinosphere, regardless of spoken language.
Using a phonetic script did not prevent international diplomacy, but it did mean that the meanings embedded in the characters gradually shifted to fit the language of each country. This made it somewhat different from Chinese characters, where the writing and the sounds were completely unrelated. In other words, unlike the Roman cultural sphere—where one had to learn Latin in addition to one’s native tongue—the Sinosphere allowed for a degree of mutual understanding through writing even if one only knew their own language.
Chinese characters, which had existed since the time of oracle bones, had spread across all of East Asia. A primitive translation system already existed—one where speech might not be understood, but meaning could be conveyed.
“I intend to propose an alliance here today. Since we can communicate through writing, even if our spoken languages differ, our intentions can still be understood. If intentions can be understood, we can recognize each other’s shortcomings. If we know what the other lacks, we can transport goods to fill those gaps. Once those deficiencies are filled, there will be no need for war between us. If war becomes unnecessary, young men will no longer die meaningless deaths. Those young men who no longer have to die can then pursue their dreams and ambitions in the fields, in the forges, and in the government offices.”
If my actions until now had been desperate struggles merely to survive, this was groundwork for realizing my personal dream—to reduce the number of people who would have to live through the same hell I had. In the Central Plains my power was still insufficient, but with the Three Han states that were barely more than tribal confederations and my Goguryeo friends who had only just escaped the fate of being horse-riding vassals, this was something worth attempting. If implemented properly, it was a plan that could establish a new order for an entire era.
“I hereby propose the Hanza Alliance—a union of all people across the world who can read and write with characters.”
Loose borders. A single economy. A single community. A single union. A single peace.
I think that traitor Lee Wan-yong once wrote something like this? I’m not sure.
The copyright of a petty man who treated Korea and Japan—two tiny specks of land—as nothing more than a single family was none of my concern. Besides, I was speaking these words roughly two thousand years before that bastard would even be born, so history books would surely record it as my phrase first.
“Cheonha Ilga Cheonji Chun (天下一家天地春: When all under heaven are one family, the whole world becomes spring). If the entire world becomes one family, there will be no need to wage war. There will be no chaotic age. Armor will be unnecessary. Armies will be unnecessary. Young men will take up plows and shovels instead of armor and spears to till the fields. Flowers will bloom where blood once soaked the earth. There will be more lovers, more children, more families. This is what I believe.”