Fish for an Empire: The Dramatic Anglo-Korean Accord
The so-called "Fish" negotiations between Korea and Britain—dubbed War in Name #2—concluded with high drama. It wasn't anything major. After the Supreme Leader's relentless demands of "Hand over the fish," Britain, having grudgingly accepted its expulsion from East Asia for now, finally played its last hidden card. The Brits, seething with outrage and a sense of crisis, showed no mercy. "If you keep threatening us with India, we'll threaten you with China." That hadn't worked until now. Arming Chinese separatists would just turn the blade back on Britain itself. Supply bullets to China? The Supreme Leader would immediately counter with a lukewarm jab about feeding the "sepoys." But now, the threat had teeth. Britain had mostly pulled out of China—willingly or not, almost entirely. If bullets started flying in China right now, it was Korea that would be screwed.
Britain figured the Korean Empire's overt friendliness toward China—rescuing Sun Yat-sen, returning Hong Kong, all those pro-Chinese policies—was aimed squarely at that vulnerability. So they stabbed right there. Consequences be damned; they were pissed. From one imperialist's eyes, nothing threatened Korea more than a Chinese uprising, so it was sure to hit home. And for the Supreme Leader, steeped in 21st-century everyman's sensibilities, it worked brutally well. Armed revolts by pro-British Chinese, rumors of Chinese backing, independence bids by Chinese—it was a vicious cycle straight out of a nightmare. Terrifying stuff.
In the end, though he'd never cared much about India to begin with, the Supreme Leader had to make a "promise that's not quite a promise" not to supply bullets to Indian independence agitators. "If you don't want bullets in China, never supply them to India either." What choice did he have? For a guy with zero intention of doing it anyway, it felt like a slap in the dark, but he shrugged it off. Not the first time. The real issue was that it didn't end there.
With the "canal"—their stand-in for instant communication like Instagram—clogged up, Britain was suffering real-time withdrawal pangs and no longer trusted Korea's word alone. Why? Because, let's face it, Korea was a bald-faced liar. Joining the gold standard while hoarding gold on the side. Professing respect for Britain's role in East Asia while kicking them out. Signing a mutual defense pact with Britain, then cozying up to America, Russia, and Germany—and now eyeing India while Britain was down? Next thing you know, they'd spark a world revolution. The more they thought about it, the more shooting the Supreme Leader seemed justified. Hell, maybe this was the moment to take out Napoleon.
But with no gun in hand, Britain—100% on its own terms—decided to give Korea one final chance. Through these very "fishing rights" talks. They had to admire the finesse, at least. Hadn't that same cunning earned Korea a seat next to them, denied to France and America? The Supreme Leader had no clue why his simple "please, just give us the fish" talks had morphed into "let's not shoot each other," but he went along. India? South China? To him, they were as untouchable as the British lion's mane. No real intent to poke either.
In that sense, the long, tedious fishing rights saga wrapped up. Why drag it out when you're negotiating "don't shoot a guy who wasn't gonna shoot anyway"? Sure, the terms were pure British bluff-and-bluster, reading like a Korean department store shopping spree. But he signed off on everything. It wasn't for nothing—he got his fish, after all. And more than that, he saw the madness in Britain's eyes. Fake-mad or not, the Supreme Leader backed down meekly.
At this juncture, Korea saw a Britain in crisis finally showing its true colors. Maybe even the canal sabotage traced back here. Britain whispered doom in the Supreme Leader's ear to freeze him solid, while sweet-talking and strong-arming the underlings—the cooperative heads. "Let's be friendly neighbors," all soft threats and squeezes. These heads, dancing to Britain's tune, reported to the Supreme Leader that CDO sales slumps were causing currency shortages, and losing the British market was hammering the Korean economy in real time.
The Supreme Leader rubber-stamped the whole "report"—really a statement of grievances. He knew it all already. Who do you think planted those reefs in the canal? Sailors' tears? Collateral damage. Admiral Yi Sun-sin would give a thumbs-up. But the cooperative heads weren't stopping at "we know you know." This wasn't a report; it was a manifesto. Manifestos have goals. For them, the next cooperative elections were on the line—no backing down. With their bunny-like kids and fox-like wives, they poked the Supreme Leader with provocative demands, courtesy of British prods.
They urged him to open the vaults and flood local banks with cash. Right now, with East and West divided, was the moment to unleash the gold—for economic takeoff. What bullshit. This is your economic rise? Print money? When it'd just get slurped back into Britain's maw? If their banks could move him, Britain would crank the currency drain even harder. Why stop pressing when the wallet pops open every time? That's how you get leverage. Unlike China, where banks couldn't budge the Supreme Leader, letting Britain skim surplus value from Korea's trade. Otherwise, Korea's currency crunch would make digestion impossible.
A mere canal blockage? No. If it'd been a Grand Line—or Red Line—worth considering, maybe. But no dice. Better to turn into hardtack biscuits. Still, they didn't quit at his refusal. Self-preservation trumped the nation's fate. Some shoved follow-ups: "Back out, then." Others flipped: "At least boost shipping volume." Total reversal. Rent Japan's massive Russo-Japanese War freighters, sublease to Britain, pump up trade flows. Currency woes aside, real economy in crisis. And open lanes for Japan, short on ships. War profiteering, basically.
The first batch? Fine. But the second? He'd personally packed their kids off to London for school. Love it so much? Stay forever. Still, the Supreme Leader partially greenlit both pitches—as extensions of the fishing talks. Britain would bite; these ideas screamed London origin. He eyed them, thinking "nice try," but felt a chill too. Britain was the god of divide-and-conquer.
This was their playbook. Crisis alert: warning. The cooperative heads griped about the Supreme Leader ignoring canal fallout economics; Britain sniffed it out and weaponized the discontent against him. Spot on, as he saw it. Korea's economy was booming—economists' clout was inevitable. Bold enough to hurl manifestos in his face. This was why he hated mingling with Britain. Liberalism was contagious; underlings chasing self-interest would stop listening. Sure, self-interest equaled treason here, but he tolerated potential turncoats. World's full of worse.
So he played along with the whole fishing farce—Britain's shopping spree. Got his fish, after all. Sure, Korea ended up with one arm pinned by Britain, dragged into their India mess willy-nilly. India blows up? China will too. What to do? Ride along. Korea would treat Indian revolts as attacks on Britain—thus on Korea—triggering auto-intervention per the defense pact. Garrisons in coastal forts, too. That memo would piss off every Indian. Chinese and pan-Asianists too—predictable. Japan gets the windfall.
But what can you do? All liberals are latent traitors; blame my weak grip. Still, scoring massive freezers—fish vaults—in Bengal, Basra, Singapore, Sinai? Unexpected win. Britain tossed more zones than expected. For a fish zealot like the Supreme Leader, fortuitous amid India's fate tying to both nations'. Unaware he'd kept demanding them, Britain eased up post-shopping, sparing Korean pride. Confident Korea hadn't shorted them— that battleship was Korean-built, after all. Too many suspects to ruin Anglo-Korean ties; impossible to pin.
Above all, Korea's vow to loosen inland canal reins, normalize and expand Suez? Gave Britain bare-minimum face. Expand Suez, no more repeats. Gold in banks? Check. Extra freighters? Check. Britain hid a smirk. "Ah, alliance though..." "This bastard?" Looked like Korea had longed Britain with one hand, shorted with the other.