A Gentleman's Revenge Is Ten Years, They Say
What was it they said about a gentleman's revenge?
Joseon in this era was basking in its own age of peace.
From Joseon-ryeong, the southern territory it had seized long ago, enormous quantities of food flowed in, and with gold and silver in hand, one could buy any number of rare luxuries from Daehan.
The people hadn't rotted into decadence and debauchery, but they had grown soft, steeped in the comfort of peace.
After all, hundreds of years had already passed this way.
And it's always at times like these that disaster strikes.
Swish, swish — scrub, scrub.
On the coast of Naniwa in Yamato, crowds of people bustled about, busy building ships.
"How much longer until we're ready?"
"A few more years, I should think."
"I find myself longing for that day. The day we avenge centuries of grievance."
Yamato had long since settled under a single government. The only conflicts were squabbles among the local kuni. As for foreign invasion, the only one in memory was the loss of Tsukushi — the land Joseon had seized ages ago and now called Joseon-ryeong.
"Sui reports they need more time for preparations."
"A few years is nothing. It'll pass in a blink."
"Then we shall begin training at once."
"See that you do."
Boom, boom, boom.
At the pounding of the drums, far across the water, ships tangled together and men sprinted about, mock battles erupting into motion.
Sui and Yamato, both deep in the throes of war preparations.
Daehan, too, was hard at work preparing for war — though it knew nothing of Yamato's situation.
"We did tell Joseon to prepare, didn't we?"
No matter how I think about it, attacking us makes no sense. Could they be planning to hit Joseon or Yamato instead?
Even if they struck the Yumin District in Gunpo, there's a wall inside the walls anyway, isn't there? They'd be surrounded on all sides.
"Yes, Your Holiness. Though the message was delivered, the envoy's attitude suggested he found the very idea absurd."
"They make plenty of money off us, don't they? It's not even a big favor we're asking — just to prepare. Honestly..."
They're frustrating, and I'm frustrated too. An ally right next door, and it turns out they're nothing but a lump of deadweight.
"According to the Intelligence Bureau's report, they've grown far too accustomed to peace."
"Good grief. Just watch — those people are heading for disaster."
Frankly, whether it was Sui, Joseon, or Yamato, we could handle them all charging at us at once. But an ally right beside us acting like this? That's a headache.
"Fine. Prepare for the worst even in peace. I have a feeling those people are going to ruin themselves."
"Surely it won't come to that?"
"It absolutely could."
Collaborators — traitors who'd sell out their own country. Surely there are a few of those around even now?
"And tell them to bring out the Baby Cannon."
"Already, Your Holiness?"
It's hardly too early. Jesus has come and gone — that was ages ago. Time they learned what gunpowder weapons can do.
Besides, there's no one for us to observe and copy anymore, so we ought to start preparing now.
"And tell those fools who've been playing with gunpowder as a mere toy to make it stronger. From now on, the method of making it goes under state secrecy as well."
The Intelligence Bureau is going to be busy.
"Truly, Your Holiness?"
"Yes. It's about to become the most important secret in the world."
I mean, come on — wouldn't gunpowder have spread slowly anyway if the Chinese hadn't gotten their weapon-making version plundered by the nomads?
"Oh? Is it really that significant?"
"Once you know how to make it, you can build weapons that bring a fortress wall down in a single blow."
"Goodness!"
...Well, our walls would probably hold up for a while anyway.
"Give them whatever they ask for, and tell them to do a good job."
"Understood!"
When on earth is the train coming? Efficiency does seem to be creeping up, bit by bit, which is odd.
They haven't finished building it because they're off doing something strange with it, have they? That's exactly the feeling I get.
Haah~ Someone once said a gentleman's revenge takes ten years — even that's too short, wasn't it?
Vicious. Ten years to the day — in the year 3073, Sui finally began to move.
"Which way? The Yumin District?"
No matter how I look at it, it can't possibly be the Yumin District. That's a trap of a position, if anything.
"The first report has come in, but I'm afraid we must wait for the next ship."
"Should we just fight them at sea?"
"Would that not already be too late?"
"Ah..."
I forgot. This news doesn't arrive by electronics.
A passing ship spots the enemy's movements and hurries back to report. It probably made its way up through the relay station in Ryeonhwa — meaning they've likely already reached their destination.
Given the sailing speed of ships in this era, it should take three or four days to reach Joseon or the District...
But the next report suggested they had gone for Joseon.
"No word from Joseon?"
"No, Your Holiness. They've paved their roads so well, there's no reason for news to be this slow."
Don't tell me they surrendered without even putting up a fight?
Three months of waiting now — not a single messenger from Joseon, only a flood of dispatches from the sea.
Reports said countless ships were crossing back and forth between Sui and Joseon.
The one mercy was that the uprising in the Yumin District had been put down on its own.
"A handful of rebels, and they suppressed them themselves?"
"Yes. They've since begged to be allowed to keep living there."
"It's a prison anyway. Do they not know that?"
Hmm. Something I could put to good use, perhaps? Might they be willing to found a nation down there to keep that one in check?
"Talk to them. See if they have any interest in founding a nation."
"You would grant them a district, Your Holiness?"
"No — leasing it is the condition, and they take the land to the south in exchange. Or the western lands would work too."
Over there, Sui is a mix of nomadic peoples and Han; here, the Han are pure. Worth splitting apart, don't you think?
Rather than digging in their heels here and living uneasily on someone else's land, that option has to be more appealing.
"We'll make contact at once."
"Lure them in well — tell them we'll help generously. And say we'll let them know when the time is right."
Anyway, there's no way all those ships were just passing back and forth for nothing, and those doomed Joseon fools have gone silent — no word, no answers, nothing?
"And the man we sent to Joseon?"
"He hasn't returned, Your Holiness. What are we to do?"
"What!?"
Our own people have gone missing too?
"Should we simply march down there?"
Back under the founding king, they called it a blood alliance, but so much time has passed that the relationship has fizzled into nothing.
"Joseon has plenty of people, doesn't it? They can't have collapsed that helplessly."
"I only worry, that's all..."
Thank goodness the West is so solid thanks to the mercenaries.
"Check on the West one more time — make sure they're all right."
"Yes. Our side is moving strangely, so they'd better remain untroubled."
Thank goodness there's no telegraph or anything yet — otherwise we'd be unable to coordinate an alliance.
We're still a bit too small to become the bully of outer space...
So we passed the time waiting for news, and then the people who'd gone to Joseon finally returned.
"Seriously?"
"Yes, Your Holiness. They surrendered without fighting at all. They say Sui has taken the Joseon mainland, and Yamato has occupied Joseon-ryeong."
Have you ever seen such imbeciles? I mean, all they had to do was send word — we could have been down there within days.
"Then why were all those ships coming and going?"
"They were rounding up slaves, apparently."
"Months have passed!"
Did they take every last blade of grass out of Joseon?
"I doubt anything is left at all, Your Holiness."
"Well? What do we do? 'We came to help' would be a pretty strange pretext now, wouldn't it?"
"Why not just go, Your Holiness?"
"Hey! Hey! War is not a joke! People die in droves!"
Can't you see the monument stuck on top of that hill!
"If we leave them be, won't they just be invaded from both sides later, and even more will die?"
"..."
Ah... I suppose I'll have to go rescue the monument, then.
"Contact the District. Tell them we begin in about a month."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
Well, good timing, actually. Might as well look after the peninsula while we're at it. We made life so comfortable for them, and this is how they fall?
I thought there'd at least be no colonial period this time — instead they've gone and lost the entire country in one gulp?
"When we attack the Han later, send siege weapons — smash their gates and walls for them a little. Make it easy to get in."
"Understood."
We'll make sure those Tohoku squinters and the chinks never so much as dip a toe in the sea.
In a building resplendent with gold and jade, laughter from the emperor and his court ladies filled the air.
This was the Pyeongjeon — the hall where the emperor conducted affairs of state. Close to his living quarters, certainly, but he might as well have been ruling from his pillow.
Emperor Yang of Sui, second of his line, was apparently a man who indulged lavishly in luxury and pleasure.
"Your Majesty — an envoy has arrived from Daehan."
"What? An envoy? Not an ambassador proper?"
At the news, the emperor's brow creased, and he waved off the court lady draped on him.
"They demand we withdraw from the lands of Joseon, and that we return every Joseon captive we took."
"Ha. Tell them to bugger off."
With that, as if the matter were beneath him entirely, he strolled out of the hall itself.
"Phew..."
In the now-empty hall, only the official who had delivered the news remained, sighing a long, heavy sigh — wondering what on earth he should write back.
Sui's envoys were excruciatingly slow. If word left our gates, it took ten days to reach their capital and another ten to return.
The same distance that took us two days.
Nearly a month had passed since we sent our message to Sui.
"They refused."
"Then we raze everything and come collect what's ours ourselves."
"Same method as before, Your Holiness?"
"Yes. Flatten them. Until they surrender."
Cockroaches, the lot of them. You'll only come to your senses once your population is cut in half — just like the Han dynasty, no?
The naval war worries me, though. There'll still be plenty of hand-to-hand fighting.
But aren't these fools being far too complacent? Do they think we won't attack because it's spring?
We don't give a damn about the harvest — we attack whenever we please, you idiots!
On the last day of March in the year 3074, the orders for the legions standing by in Ryeonhwa and Pyeonghwa set out from Shinsi.
On April 2nd of the year 3074, a single order arrived at the training grounds of Pyeonghwa.
Drive the Sui from the lands of Joseon.
Short rather than long, but scrawled in a crooked, zigzag hand.
"Puh-hah."
How could a human being be so square? The jaw, the brow, the fists — every angle of him looked chiseled out of stone. The sort of man who seemed made of something terribly, unbendingly solid.
A smile spread across the legion commander's face. Wasn't this a hand one couldn't copy even if one tried?
It had already been over three months since they marched down from Shinsi and stood by.
Flutter.
Along with the order came a single sheet of white cloth. Across its broad expanse, more crooked, drunken lettering.
Gauri
It would surely be the name of his legion — and yet why did that handwriting alone make him laugh every time he saw it? A mystery for the ages.
He didn't know the meaning, but the sound of it pleased him all the same. He bound the banner to the pole, strode out of the tent, and faced his men.
"Gauri, sir?"
"That's right. We'll be the first to bear it."
"Ah..."
The heart of the adjutant waiting outside surged as well. He didn't know what it meant, but it was surely a glorious name.
"Hasten preparations. We complete our departure preparations within one week."
"We'll be done in three days, sir."
"Don't rush overly much. Certainty matters more than speed."
"Yes, sir!"
Gauri's commander was a man of exceptionally careful temperament.
The couriers dispatched from Shinsi split — one bound for Pyeonghwa, one for Ryeonhwa.
Weaving between countless ships, the courier came alongside the flagship.
"A courier from Shinsi, sir."
"My thanks."
The recipient of the letter was a man of lean, almost cucumber-like proportions, his face composed and set off by a neatly kept mustache.
He unfolded the letter with great care.
Only our ships shall sail the Daehan Sea.
"Heh heh heh."
His hands, cherishing and stroking that crooked-scrawled letter, brimmed with affection. Folding it snugly away into his breast, the fleet admiral stepped out onto the deck.
Flutter, flutter.
A broad bolt of cloth had arrived with the letter.
Comet
"Wahaha!"
His Holiness may be who he is, but why on earth must the handwriting be that? Even the letters his own granddaughter wrote were better than this.
He didn't know the meaning, but it had to be an auspicious word.
"Comet, Admiral?"
"That's right. The name of our fleet."
"We shall fly it from the tallest mast, sir."
"No — I'll do it myself."
Beaming, the admiral carried the banner up in person and hung it from the very top of the tallest mast.
He checked it once more, worried it might tear loose and fly away, then descended back to the deck.
"How long until we're ready to set sail?"
"We can depart at once, sir."
The hold was stocked with plenty of provisions. Crossing the Daehan Sea didn't require much food, after all.
"We sail from the head of the formation. Lead the line."
"Yes, sir!"