Victors Are the King's Men, Vanquished the Rebels #2
Two months after the Japanese Navy anchored in the Yellow Sea, talks between Britain and Korea were still running parallel, never converging.
The reason? Nothing major. The ambassador had cried "stay" at this incomprehensible impasse and asked to await instructions from London. The Supreme Leader gladly accepted—even knowing it favored Britain. For him, it was simply the quickest way to wrap things up.
Surprisingly, whether Japan invaded or not, at this juncture the Supreme Leader wanted nothing from either Japan or Britain. Except, deep down, for them all to just fuck off.
So he waited. And as a result, before Korea could dispatch supply ships to Japan, the ambassador received a brief window to get London's directive.
That directive from the home country. The one to end this parallel deadlock.
It was— "Let's just make some money, shall we?"
With Thomas the ambassador departing for Japan, his replacement was the new envoy, MacDonald. He didn't know much, but he quite liked this "let's make money" line. He figured negotiations would be easy given the goal.
But it was a delusion. Their talks, pivoting from the home directive, veered past parallel lines toward an inescapable horizon.
"Japan's ambitions began with a surprise attack on our Eastern Fleet."
"Agreed. But those are separate matters."
"Korea is a nation under Britain's protection. An attack on Korea is an attack on Britain."
"Agreed. But this was Japan striking Korea before the Anglo-Japanese truce expired."
"Japan declared war on Britain too. It explicitly says 'Britain's ambitions'."
"I'm not sure that constitutes breaking the truce with Britain. Even if it does, having gone through one truce already makes it a distinct issue."
Britain's efforts to extract massive reparations from Japan were repeatedly thwarted by the Koreans. London had originally planned to squeeze protection money from Korea, but with Korea's rise, that failed—so now they aimed to fleece Japan instead. Yet these Koreans, for whatever they'd eaten wrong, kept shielding the Japanese.
"This isn't official—it's private talk."
"Go ahead, Sir Mac…Donald."
"What's so great about those island bastards that you're defending them like this?"
"We don't like them. We're simply opposed to coercive reparations on principle."
"Korea suffered damages from Japan too, I assume. No thought to claiming reparations?"
"Correct. So long as Japanese forces behave themselves in Busan, Korea seeks no territorial cessions or reparations from either nation, in the spirit of friendship."
This guy's more solidly insane than I thought.
"But for the home country, we must claim compensation for the Eastern Fleet from Japan."
"Agreed. That's a matter between Britain and Japan. If Britain extracts reparations from Japan, Korea will turn a blind eye."
Do whatever the fuck you want on your own.
Naturally, Britain had no intention of that. Bundling the Korean invasion with it would let them gouge far more. They even proposed taking a big cut and handing some to Korea as a flat payment, but the Supreme Leader wouldn't budge.
At this point, all the gold in Japan was potentially mine anyway—why share it with the Brits? Especially while stoking Japanese resentment?
The Supreme Leader had no such plans, and MacDonald grew increasingly anxious. For good reason: there was a deeper motive to just making money.
London's directive made clear that Britain now viewed the Korean Empire as a grave threat. They knew full well how tight-knit Korea and Japan were. Hadn't they pried away Ganghwa Island and Busan precisely to drive a wedge between them?
The Supreme Leader—who'd never truly bonded with Japan—would scoff at that, but from foreign eyes, or those of the two nations' publics, they were like North and South Germans, and on friendly terms at that. Folks would buy "we're merging into one country tomorrow."
Yet when Japan crossed a line, Korea swiftly lopped off its hand. It felt different from the feral savagery that devoured China—a calculated, civilized precision. Endure and endure, but cross the line and they strike without mercy, friends or not. Master butchers, with calculation speeds that even impressed Britain.
So Britain—especially its leadership—was spooked. That blade might truly turn on them someday. The homeland was safe, sure, but was the British Empire just the Kingdom of Britannia if only the homeland was secure?
As a result, per the directive, MacDonald's sole demand from Korea was one thing: money, specifically reparations from Japan.
With their usual option of bullying Korea off the table, Britain's choices had evaporated too. They'd thought claiming Japanese reparations would be simple, but this Supreme Leader just kept repeating, "No. Go home."
Any way around this?
Normally, this was when the Supreme Leader's slush fund list would pop up. But the directive strictly forbade any allusion, mention, or indirect reference to slush funds from this point on, under any circumstances.
Having realized the balls they'd gripped so tightly were a tiger's, it was only natural. Stuck holding tiger balls, they couldn't let go or squeeze harder—they just dithered. Whatever they did seemed to invite a claw swipe.
The talks eventually broke down. Britain saw the Supreme Leader's stonewalling as "the bastard's finally showing his true colors."
But Britain was the classic bully to the weak, meek to the strong—a self-proclaimed land of gentlemen. And gentlemen said:
"Just cede up to Southeast Asia."
"Pardon!?"
"Open the path."
"You're serious?"
"Set up regular service between Korea and the Dutch East Indies on our end. That'll prove our sincerity."
"You're serious..."
"But bundle it all together."
"Understood."
"Oh."
"Yes?"
"Even if they say they're swallowing the Qing, we'll look the other way. We only protect China proper."
"Will he go for it?"
"Doubt it, but worth a shot."
"Understood."
"What about the battleships?"
"Has that mustachioed fool been swayed by his own Yellow Peril talk?"
"It really might be giving wings to a tiger."
"America looks ready to give that tiger another wing. Just deliver them intact."
"Understood."
"Ganghwa and Busan—we're just leasing them as-is, right?"
"Yes."
"Handing them back would spark cabinet backlash?"
"Likely."
"Hm... Build another port in Busan. More modern. As our investment."
"That far?"
"No idea."
"Pardon?"
"Whether the bastard's hungry, full, annoyed, or pissed... I haven't a clue."
"That's why we tread carefully."
With that, the prime minister sank into thought.
By Britain's calculus, backward nations typically lurched into expansionist rampages the moment they got weapons. Russia did it, China did it, Japan did it.
But Korea. The nation showing massive expansion lately. Britain chalked it up to typical pre-modern patterns and felt reassured inwardly.
But reconsidering now, that country—or rather, that Supreme Leader—had always been different, even in Joseon days. Why win independence and still push for tributary status? Why demand autonomy for Chinese residents too, not just their own? Why forgo reparations but ramp up people-to-people and goods exchange? Why skip global trade for internal stability?
And lately... why block Britain from taking Japanese reparations so fiercely?
At this point, the British prime minister realized: strip away Korea's recent expansions, the Supreme Leader's slush funds—the variables—and factor in his massive investments.
?!
This combination whispered one unbelievable truth, clearer than expected, into his mind.
The man who fancied himself Britain's most awake mind at the time—and a huge Holmes fan—finally brushed the edge of the picture the modern isekai Supreme Leader was painting.
And that picture was a vivid yellow. The third Marquess of Salisbury, current Prime Minister of the British Empire, declared:
"Secretary."
"Yes."
"How much gold does the British Empire hold right now—no, how much can we mobilize? And how many workers are toiling away?"
"Pardon?"
"How much more are factories churning than before? Chimneys smoking? Coal. Yes, how much more coal are we burning?"
"Couldn't say."
"Why not?"
"..."
"Why not?"
"Well... no need to know, is there?"
"Why."
"It's a rare boom—we're scrambling to sell every last bit. Who logs all that for checking?"
The secretary had never seen his prime minister go so pale.
"If Han, Zhong, and Nihon drop out of our trade network—for any reason—what happens?"
"That... would need discussion."
"Discuss it now."
"He's... inducing—no, at minimum bracing for—the Great Depression."
And from Britain, no less.