The Troublemakers Have Returned!
Kuuwaaang!
"..."
Every time the sound of an explosion rolled across the water, the Fleet Commander felt his heart sink. Who could have imagined that the men he had laughed and wept alongside all these years would be snatched away so cruelly, so effortlessly?
Twelve of his forty-eight ships had been caught by the first wave of the enemy, and now more than a hundred vessels were in hot pursuit. The remaining thirty-six ships should have been more than enough to drive them off—but it was a question of time.
"Loose more arrows! More slingshot stones, faster!"
The Deck Boss shouted himself hoarse, but the sailors were already giving everything they had. After all, their friends, their younger brothers, their older brothers were still aboard those ships left behind.
"Hahahaha!"
"Fleet Commander, sir? What's gotten into you?"
"I must have lost my mind!"
After a long moment of hesitation, the Fleet Commander had evidently come to some decision, for he suddenly burst out laughing.
"Turn the ships around! We're smashing through the enemy detachment and going back for our brothers!"
"Wahaha! Yes, sir!"
"That's the spirit! What kind of men run away with their tails between their legs? We'd shame our own names!"
"Let's go!"
Each man let out a remark that secretly felt damned satisfying. Truth be told, they had all been resentful. Their heads told them that fighting a long-range battle like this guaranteed victory—but abandoning their comrades like that sat ill in their stomachs.
"So what if we die? How long do you think we'd live anyway, having left the boys behind? We're going back!"
"Turn the ships!"
"Signal the fleet and ship your oars—about turn, you dogs!"
The orders were rough and improvised, yet somehow the message got through: thirty-six ships began pulling their oars and swinging about.
And among the rowers straining at their oars with all their might, building speed, the soldiers stood ready at their weapons.
"Full speed ahead! We're punching straight through them!"
"Sir!"
The sheer weight of the Horned Whale was both its blessing and its curse. Its top speed was blindingly fast, but its acceleration was sluggish. Beads of sweat gathered on the brows of the sailors rowing furiously to compensate.
And as the distance gradually closed, the enemy fleet came into view on the far side.
"Oh! Twelve ships have come back!"
"You damned bastards—where the hell have you been slacking off?"
Like prodigal sons wandering lost, the ships had returned. And now they bore straight down upon their comrades, who were surrounded on all sides.
Six ships had already exploded, but the last six to be ensnared still stood intact. And those twelve ships were terrifying indeed—crashing into the rear of an enemy fleet whose formation had been thrown into chaos by the ten to twenty vessels dragged down alongside each exploded comrade.
Chwaaaaak! Keurgrgrgruk!
"You maniacs! You're crushing our ships!"
The twelve ships split into pairs, sliding past the friendly vessels with unnerving precision as they ground the enemy hulls beneath them.
"Wahaha! Big brothers are here!"
"If you're grateful, say thank you—quit cursing us!"
Kwajijik! Kwoak!
The Su ships shattered into splinters without even a chance to prepare, and for the Su soldiers massed for boarding, it was a bolt from the blue.
Udududuk.
"AAAAGH! Our ship's coming apart!"
"That's enough!"
Sweeping the enemy vessels clean away with their rams was all well and good—the only ones turning ghost-pale now were the Horned Whale sailors, about to be dragged under by the very hulls they'd crushed.
"But we've shaken off all the stragglers! Clean up and get us moving—the battle isn't over!"
The sons of Daehan scrambled up to the decks to finish off the surviving Su soldiers. If the enemy kept pouring in reinforcements it might become a problem, but two or three times their number? Easy pickings.
With six of the twelve captured ships miraculously freed, eighteen ships in all now rained sudden destruction down upon the tangled, floundering mass of the Su fleet.
There was no need to charge a target standing perfectly still.
And as for the main fleet's thirty-six ships against the Su detachment of a hundred and twenty—there was nothing to discuss. These were Horned Whales that had punched straight through engagements at ten-to-one odds.
Unless they were being attacked from the flank as in that first encounter, no amount of sluggish acceleration could keep them from being utterly outmatched by their foes.
"Leave not a single one alive!"
"Die, all of you!"
"We can't let those bastards go back home to tell the tale!"
In that small stretch of sea with nowhere decent to flee, the battle ended in an overwhelming Daehan victory.
Sixty ships against four hundred and twenty. Even the vessels of the surrendering enemy were mercilessly sent to the bottom. Six Horned Whales sunk; four hundred and twenty Su ships sunk. Such was the tally.
"Damn it all..."
"If only we'd come a little sooner."
Far more of the enemy had died, but Daehan had lost six ships, and every vessel bore its share of dead and wounded. The sailors took a brief moment of mourning.
"Hoo... my sin is a heavy one."
"Fleet Commander..."
"We return to port for now."
"Yes, sir!"
As far as he knew, Joseon had no other serviceable harbor. Reporting the results of the engagement mattered too, so the decision was made to hurry back. The fleet formed up in good order and began making its way north.
The 1st Flotilla, which had cruised down along the Su coast, returned as well—after burning the enemy shipyards and the hundreds of vessels anchored there.
And the ships that had been operating overseas were gathering at Daedo and Dongdo before heading home.
Of the roughly six hundred Horned Whales Daehan possessed, all were now returning home, leaving behind only the few vessels each region required.
On April 10th, a vast multitude set out from Pyeonghwa.
Four hundred thousand infantry, one hundred thousand cavalry, two hundred thousand support troops—filling Daehan's twelve-lane roads to bursting as they marched south. The column was so long that by the time its head departed, the rear half remained camped for another full day before setting out.
It was a grand army stretching a full five ri in length.
"Corps Commander, is it really wise to march so leisurely?"
"The slower we go, the better."
"Sir? How so?"
"Because I have faith in our navy."
"???"
Only his adjutant was left agonizing over the logic—trusting the navy meant walking slowly?
"Heheh. Honestly. If our navy is doing its job properly, I'd wager the Su army is starving by now."
"Ah..."
"And the fact that they so diligently dragged off Joseon folk will only backfire on them worse."
The people who remained in Joseon had scattered, hiding deep in the mountains and forests. There would be no one left to labor in the plains, let alone to plunder.
According to the Intelligence Bureau operatives concealed near the Su harbor, the Su fleet numbered some four thousand ships.
"At minimum, four hundred thousand enemy troops."
"Gah..."
"Why so startled? We're fielding five hundred thousand ourselves."
"So many people are going to die..."
The adjutant's face darkened with dread at the thought of the death toll to come.
"There's no fighting a war without losses. But for every single one of our soldiers' lives, we'll collect ten of theirs."
The Corps Commander's grim eyes were filled to the brim with faith in his men.
After three days of marching, the Corps Commander reached the border with Joseon and climbed the city wall—to gaze far off at the Su army glaring back at them.
"How do they look?"
"Five attacks so far, each repelled soundly. They've withdrawn to a distance after taking a thorough beating, sir."
"And the ones trying to flank us?"
"The mountain trails are treacherous—it seems small bands set out to strike at other cities, but they'll all be dead by now."
"Ha! No fear in them at all. Trying to cross these mountains with small parties."
The Corps Commander shuddered. Whether in Joseon or Daehan, the mountains were a truly fearsome place.
Bears were monstrously strong, and tigers were as cunning as they came. Even an army on the march, the moment it let its guard down, would find its men vanishing one by one.
"How are the enemy's spirits?"
"Heheheh. I'd say they're mighty hungry, sir."
"Kukukuk. The weather's fine—let's give them something entertaining to watch, then."
The Corps Commander was planning something truly mean. He had set out having resolved that if it would spare his soldiers' lives, he would stoop to far worse.
And his mission was to pacify the land of Joseon. He had more time than one might expect.
"Let's throw a feast, then."
"Much obliged, sir. Hahaha."
By evening, stone hearths began rising before the city walls, great iron cauldron lids laid atop them.
Blazing firewood heated the lids through, and slabs of meat were laid across the sizzling surface.
Chi-iiiik.
There was no such thing as frozen meat in this era. The pigs transported by the supply corps had been slaughtered fresh that very day.
Chak-chak-chak.
Over the meat went a thick, richly fragrant marinade.
"Wow... that actually looks delicious?"
Gulp...
The soldiers had technically been sent out to put on a show over their evening meal—but somewhere along the way, the grilling had become deadly serious business.
"Should I flip it?"
"Wait a bit longer. Another minute and it'll be perfect."
And this, mind you, was a full-blown debate, faces solemn as judges, over the correct moment to turn a piece of meat.
Chomp, chomp.
"Hey, you brat! You're supposed to eat it when it's cooked!"
"Isn't it done once the outside is?"
The response came from a somewhat plump soldier, cheeks stuffed, brazenly plucking meat straight off the grill.
"That works for beef! This is pork!"
"It's fine! Nobody dies."
Which was probably because anyone who might have died from eating it that way had long since perished and been buried in the ground...
"Then at least grill it first, you glutton!"
The reason for his fury: a pig-faced rascal was devouring everything he'd worked so hard to cook, all by himself.
"Just eat some yourself. It's good."
"I said no!"
"Tch, what a sourpuss. Fine, I'll cook it for you."
The plump soldier, handed the meat, heaped on a towering pile and set to grilling.
Chi-iiiik.
"Isn't that a bit too much?"
"You've got to pile it this high for it to count as eating, no?"
A full cauldron lid of sizzling meat—enough that four men could stuff themselves on meat alone.
Nyam nyam, chomp chomp.
"Ha..."
Since the fellow was grilling it himself and eating it half-raw anyway, there was nothing more to say. Only the poor soldier who'd done all the cooking looked pitiable.
"Fine. Eat it all yourself, then."
"Okay! Thanks!"
And how happy was he? For the first time, a beaming smile broke across that impudent face.
Whenever the west or northwest wind blew, the soldiers marched unfailingly out the gates for their open-air feast. If nothing else, Daehan overflowed with food.
There was never a shortage of things to eat.
"Man, this marinade—where do they even get it? It's insanely good."
"Word is it comes down from Sinsi."
It was nothing more than soy sauce mixed with sugar and pepper, yet the soldiers heaped praise on it left and right. Perhaps the fresh meat simply made it taste better.
Chomp, chomp. Hyaah~ to die for.
"Think the mess halls will have this later?"
"And a cold drink to wash it down would hit the spot."
"Eh, this is an operation. Can't do that."
"I know! I'm just saying, is all."
It looked like men simply eating their dinner—but this feast was, in the end, part of the operation.
That was why they dined only on nights when the wind carried the aroma low across the walls, spreading it to the enemy.
"Hmm... eaten enough for tonight, you think?"
"Shall we leave a little extra on one side?"
"Anything works. Heheheh."
Over there, the enemy believed themselves cleverly hidden—but along the riverbank, eyes glittered in the dark.
Su soldiers creeping in to scavenge the food the Daehan troops had left behind. Some had given up on day entirely, sleeping in the underbrush and venturing out only at night to eat.
That was how dire the Su army's food situation had become.
"What's the enemy's movement like?"
"A great deal of activity, sir. It looks as though they're preparing something."
"Then they have two choices left."
Surrender, or perish. And if they sent out their starving, strength-drained soldiers, that would mean nothing more than letting Daehan slaughter them to cut down the mouths to feed.
"They wouldn't actually try surrendering just to drain our food supplies... would they?"
"Huh?"
"No way?"
"Wait a moment. Could they?"
In an ordinary war, inducing the enemy in a besieged fortress to surrender and bleed your granaries dry was a genuine possibility.
Especially against a merciful lord or commanding general—few tactics worked better. But this was Daehan they were talking about. A nation that could, at a stretch, feed the entire Su kingdom on its own. The only problem was that the enemy had no idea.
"Damn it. Looks like we'll need to build a prison camp or two?"
"You can't be serious, sir?"
"I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Hmm... I'll look into erecting a wooden internment camp for now."