The Conquest of the Archipelago (8)
Yi Yeon gazed at the chests stacked high in the corner of the tent, a warm smile spreading across his face.
Each chest measured over a meter in every dimension. Even a rough estimate put the total at more than three hundred thousand nyang.
It was impossible to believe. He had come all this way just to hand the contents over to the soldiers.
Unlike Joseon, he already knew that the Why nation gave allowances even to the low-ranking ashigaru warriors. But the allowance had been only one kan of five yu per year—less than a single nyang of silver.
And now they were offering three hundred thousand nyang?
He had learned from prisoners that Oda Nobunaga’s subordinates—roughly ten thousand soldiers mobilized for this campaign—had brought back that much silver from their plundering.
He had no idea where they had found such a fortune, but the amount was six times what they usually received as allowances. It was staggering.
So he had summoned Shin Rip and ordered him to bring one prisoner from each group who understood the situation for questioning.
Direct inquiry would be the surest way.
“Is it true that you brought all this silver here to give to the soldiers?”
The man dared not lift his eyes to the King. He dropped his head to the floor and answered in a trembling voice.
“Y-yes, Your Majesty. My lord decided to grant one nyang of silver to every soldier who took part in this war. And he also decided to grant one extra nyang for every severed head from the Joseon army.”
“What if someone dies before they can collect?”
“Then two nyang would be sent to their families.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Strange…”
The Why soldiers he had watched all night looked half-mad. Behind them, the officers who had acted like generals kept swinging their swords and shoving the men forward, but the soldiers had charged forward with the resolve to die. And the reason was family.
‘People really are the same everywhere…’
The customs he had encountered since coming here were horrifyingly many. One in particular was called ma-biki—forced separation of families. He had heard it was common in the Edo period, but that was wrong.
Unlike centralized Joseon, the Why nation was still in the feudal age where daimyo ruled their own domains. There was a Tenno—the emperor—and a Shogun—the shogun—but both were mere figures of authority. Wars broke out constantly because of this.
To pay for war, the daimyo collected not only the usual 70% tax but also a special poll tax called in-do sen. Unlike Joseon, almost no one owned their own land, so the poor sold their own children to settle debts. Even grown children were put to death under the pretext of saving them so the poll tax could be reduced.
He could not even bring himself to think about it. In Joseon, if you had your own share you were born into the world and raised children even when there was nothing to eat. Yet here it was the same. He had assumed it was just another place where people lived.
And yet here, too, there were people who risked their lives for their families. Even enemies were to be pitied. After all, they were sacrificing themselves for their own.
Yi Yeon told Shin Rip, “Go tell Hujung to perform the rite for the spirits of the dead.”
“Your Majesty, are you doing this for the Why soldiers?”
“The proverb says that only dead Why are kind. And you saw they are already dead, didn’t you?”
“Ah! Yes! I understand, Your Majesty.”
The battlefield had not yet been fully cleared, but the Joseon army had suffered only a hundred casualties. The Why, however, were said to have lost over ten thousand. The rite for the spirits was only right. Hujung, who had brought a Seosan-daesa from Joseon to lead the Buddhist soldiers, was assigned the task.
He had no idea that the Why people who had been conquered by Joseon would one day sincerely worship the Joseon King and serve him as their true ruler. Historians would later claim that generous land distribution and deep tax cuts made it so, but that was only half the truth. The hearts of the Why had been moved by this very deed.
Once Shin Rip left with the prisoner, Yi Yeon let out a long breath.
“Hah! It seems there really isn’t much left…”
The Mori clan had surrendered to Joseon and acquired the Iwami Mine, which had produced enormous silver and supplied thirty percent of the world’s silver. Yet almost none of that silver remained in their hands. The lead residue left after the separation process was all that was left.
Yi Yeon had suspected Mori Motonari of hiding the silver. But now a different thought occurred to him. If there really were mountains of silver left, then the mine was simply pumping it out and distributing it across the archipelago without pause.
“No need to keep him alive anymore.”
Mori Motonari had tried to sabotage, but Yi Yeon had still allowed him to live. Now that suspicion was gone, he no longer needed the man. There was already three hundred thousand nyang of silver in hand. The Iwami Mine would keep producing more. Even if the silver had been hidden, it could be recovered later. And the silver brought by the other groups was sure to be vast as well. They had all been offered the same conditions.
Plop.
Yi Yeon frowned at the raindrops falling around him. They were gray with ash, the kind that fell after a wide plain had burned.
“Good thing I said not to worry about efficiency.”
Unlike England, where black rain had fallen at the start of the Industrial Revolution, Joseon had not suffered such rain. They had used smokeless coal, and even after switching to coal with fewer emissions, Yi Yeon had told them not to worry about efficiency. For a while the air had stayed clear, but soon clean rain fell, cooling the overheated ground.
“The harvest should be excellent.”
He had assumed the archipelago was mostly mountains, but it was not. Even here, around Mount Ushida, vast plains stretched north and south—wider than Han Yang itself. That was why he had offered land to the Joseon Eastern Army soldiers.
“One hundred baek-ji—100 meters by 100 meters—each, just like in Joseon.”
They had drained the swamps along Joseon’s West and South Seas and distributed one hectare—three thousand and twenty-five pyeong—to whoever wanted it among the workers. That should be enough for a family to live well after paying tax. The land was so vast that they had wanted to give even more, but without farm machinery, one family’s maximum holding was one hundred baek-ji. Since they were using the metric system, they would not use the old pyeong or majigi units. Majigi was the size needed to plant one seed, but it varied by region, so it was inconvenient to calculate. Still, the land could not be sold. If a soldier stopped farming, it would be taken back. The tax was only twenty percent of the harvest—ten percent to the central court, ten percent to local offices, and ten percent to cover the costs of maintaining the archipelago. The royal family, which had invested everything in the swamp reclamation, would not take even one coin back.
Formally, all land in Joseon belonged to the King. Everything beneath it was also royal property. The profits from the regional defense forces and county offices were already enormous; there was no need to touch this land either. The same plan would apply to the archipelago. The only difference was the tax rate of thirty percent.“Still not even half.”
The daimyo were nothing but bloodsuckers. They collected over seventy percent in taxes. In Joseon, even under the gwageo system, only fifty percent was taken. Thirty percent of that would be ten percent to the Joseon court, ten percent to local offices, and the remaining ten percent would be used for the costs of ruling the archipelago. Land would also be granted to the buyers of war bonds. Once the Kantō Plain was developed, the area would be unimaginably vast.“At least fifty times better off.”
He had thrown away pocket change, yet the reward was only fair for a man who had invested his heart in the nation. Only then would the people continue to serve as they planned, turning every Joseon citizen into a wealthy person. The land granted for war bonds could be sold or rented. If rented, the Joseon Bank interest rate of twelve percent would be paid. Even so, the farmers on the archipelago would receive a much lower rate—only forty-two percent. It was less than the fifty percent demanded by Joseon’s sharecroppers.
By now the rain had stopped. As the sun set, a beautiful sunset painted the sky. And the messengers he had been waiting for arrived one after another, carrying news far better than expected.* * *
Three days later, when the sun stood high at noon, Kim Yang-bo entered the tent where Yi Yeon was staying.
“Your Majesty, everyone is waiting.”
“I know. Tell them I’ll be out shortly.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Yi Yeon changed into his dragon robe and stepped out of the tent. At the entrance, two Joseon Eastern Army soldiers in full ceremonial armor stood at attention and roared in unison.
“Your Majesty!”
The words were followed by the sharp slap of hands and a thunderous shout that shook the heavens and earth.
“Your Majesty!”
Because they had won a great victory, the Joseon Firepower Army’s shouts were louder than ever. Yi Yeon climbed onto the raised platform and looked down. Below him, the commanders of the Firepower Army knelt with heads bowed. Yi Sun-sin and Jeong Geol were not present. They had remained on the ships to guard against any surprise attack by the enemy.
Yi Yeon raised his head and saw the Why daimyo and their subordinates lined up in the rear. Their postures varied. Most kept their heads lowered, but one stared at the sky with a hollow expression as if he had given up everything. Another rolled his eyes, scanning for any chance to escape. Behind them, the Firepower Army stood in perfect formation, one hand on their chest, staring at the King. They wore pure white silk uniforms—ceremonial robes made from the vast quantities of silk Joseon had imported to balance trade with Ming. The Eastern Army soldiers on both flanks glanced sideways at the Firepower Army, trying to copy the same pose out of envy.
Yi Yeon calmed the swelling pride in his chest and nodded.
‘Was this the feeling Emperor Qin Shi Huang felt after unifying China?’
One word from him and so many soldiers had risked their lives to follow. Just the thought made his heart pound. He took a deep breath and spoke.
“Well done. Rise.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
The Firepower Army commanders nodded sharply, then rose with perfect discipline. Yi Yeon looked at Jeong Yeo-lip among them and said, “Heat-up.”
Jeong Yeo-lip turned and shouted loudly.
“HEAT-UP!”
Slap! Crack!
The Firepower Army moved as one. The Eastern Army, however, had no such training and followed the Firepower Army’s movements as best they could. Even they looked impressive to themselves.
Yi Yeon brought a large funnel close to his mouth and shouted, “Listen carefully, all of you! All the people here are Joseon’s subjects! Therefore, you must not discriminate against anyone simply because their speech and appearance differ! Anyone who does not follow Joseon’s laws will be shot without mercy! Do you understand?”
“Yes! Your Majesty! We will remember!”
“We will remember!”
Jeong Yeo-lip’s cry was echoed by the Firepower Army. The Eastern Army soldiers, hearing the translation, shouted “Hai!”
“I am proud of every one of you who won this war! That is why I have decided to grant you a gift worthy of your satisfaction!”
“Uwaaaa…”
Even though they did not know what the gift was, both the Firepower Army and the Eastern Army roared at the same time, expecting something extraordinary after such a victory.
Yi Yeon had decided to reclaim all the farmland held by the daimyo and their men and distribute it to the Firepower Army and the Eastern Army. Only soldiers who had never owned land themselves would be truly satisfied, and only then would they guard it with greater loyalty and effort. Yi Yeon raised his hand. The soldiers immediately fell silent, eager to hear what the gift was.
“I will reward your bravery and loyalty! Therefore I grant each of you one hundred baek-ji!”
“Uwaaah…”
“Waaah!”
The Firepower Army, who already knew what baek-ji was, erupted in wild cheers. The Eastern Army followed, not knowing the exact size but sensing something magnificent.
Yi Yeon raised his hand again. The Eastern Army soldiers, having heard the translation, dropped to their knees and pressed their hands to the ground, shouting without pause.
“Long live the land! Only those who own the land can enjoy true freedom! This is a gift, so keep it and protect it! Do not forget that this is the price of your loyalty! Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“From now on, serve the nation and follow me! There will be many more opportunities! This is the new Joseon we are creating together! Work with me! Do you understand?”
“Yes! Your Majesty!”
Yi Yeon descended from the platform amid the thunderous cheers. He no longer needed to speak; the gift of land had already been given, and words would not reach their ears anyway. He walked toward Oda Nobunaga, who stood with his head bowed, looking utterly defeated.
“Are you Oda Nobunaga, the man who tried to become shogun?”
Oda Nobunaga lifted his head and met Yi Yeon’s eyes. His face was filled with a complex storm of emotions.