Mudo and a Bad Pint of Beer
Romance was dead once again. Five days on a train with absolutely nothing to do had been mind-numbingly boring. Mountains to cross, rivers to ford — and not just once or twice, either. In the end, tired of staring at scenery that never changed, I'd spent the entire five days asleep. Right now we were on the road from Seonnam to the trade city. Apparently, with so many trade goods in demand, the train ran straight into the city itself. About seven hours or so? "The first time a train rolled into the city, it caused absolute chaos. People thought a monster had appeared — they scattered, screaming and running for their lives." Honestly, if I saw a train clanging down the tracks shrieking like that for the first time, I'd probably panic too. "They've seen it once or twice by now, so I imagine they've gotten used to it." "There are still plenty of people seeing one for the first time, so the chaos continues to this day. Haha." Fair enough — the city drew every kind of person imaginable, from the Middle East all the way to Europe. Though I did feel a little guilty about one thing: thanks to us, the Steppe Road and the Silk Road had been utterly ruined. They said the Mongol steppe was practically empty now, too. Everyone had migrated over this way. The steppe warriors of Mongol had become our mercenaries, and all they did now was patrol that vast desert expanse. Even if Genghis Khan were born, the poor man would end up as nothing more than a patrol captain. Who knows — if the bloodline crossed over, someone like him might end up born on the Chinese side. "Have you been out to the desert or the highlands at all?" "There's barely anyone out there. I honestly can't figure out how they survive." "Everyone has their own way of life. They're people living hard enough as it is — no need to fight them. Better to get along." I'd have to build an absolutely enormous solar farm out in that desert someday. Hehehe. Beeeep! "We must be almost at the city." "I can see the city walls over there." That would be the place where all those foreign mercenary friends had once swarmed in. Since it had become a trade hub, life had probably gotten better there. Screeeech The train let out a long groan of friction and began to slow. Trains like this could derail if they braked carelessly, so they reduced speed well in advance. Then it crept past the wall into what you might call a station. As the train glided slowly into a broad platform ringed by low fencing, an enormous crowd of onlookers had gathered — a staggering number of them foreigners. "More spectators than I expected." "Yes. Honestly, when something this enormous made of iron moves under its own power, there's nothing more wondrous in all the world." I wondered if they'd watch carefully, copy it, and try to build one in their own countries? Steam engines are easier to reverse-engineer than you'd think. Then again, these were still people who hammered their swords out by hand — they were skipping way too many steps at once. Outside was pure pandemonium. Some were so stunned they looked ready to faint, frantically searching for their shoes, while others were flat-out prostrating themselves. What a circus. "They probably don't even know where our capital is, do they?" "Most likely they tried to find out and ended up inside the belly of a tiger or wolf for their trouble." Getting into Daehan meant getting past four barriers. First, that absurdly towering wall. Second, the brutal cold. Third, the wolves, tigers, and bears prowling the dense forests. Fourth, their own faces — completely different from ours. In a way, we were running a policy of isolation just like Japan's. "Lots of scholars have gathered here too. They hold debates among themselves — quite impressive, really." "Oh? Like a school?" "An Academia? I believe that was the name. Every sort of person under the sun ends up there." Right — and how many countries were there just among the neighbors? Hm? Wait, do they even speak the same language? "They manage to communicate." "They all use the Daehan language." "Huh? Why?" "They gathered among themselves and debated it, and apparently they settled on ours because it's the easiest to learn — and because it's fair to everyone." Hm? Well, if they insist on using it, who am I to object? Still, isn't it a bit early for it to become the world's lingua franca? "Let's send over a few of our own scholars to study something, anything." "I'll look into whether we have anyone suitable." Philosophy and mathematics would be worth studying, wouldn't they? As for technology, we buy most of ours outright, so there's no rush there. Our merchants — or should I call them the Intelligence Bureau? Or maybe a bandit company? Either way, whenever they stop in the city they sell their goods, but they also buy up strange materials and mechanical know-how, so crowds always gather around them. There's so much of it that no one can keep track of what's what, so our scholars are suffering through the thankless job of sorting it all. They probably don't have much time for fieldwork. "Then I shall escort you to the Temple." "Yes. Wherever I go, home is the most comfortable." With so many people gathered, every religion imaginable had taken root here. Clippety-clop, clippety-clop Oh? A cathedral! A temple! A Buddhist monastery! Every faith under heaven, really? But what's that one? Some kind of Islamic mosque...? "Is there a religion called Islam here too?" "Pardon? You know of it?" "Huh? Do they get along with everyone else?" "They manage to coexist, so long as religion never comes up." Figures. Trouble follows them around, that lot. "If they were on our soil, I'd want them thrown out." "Plenty of people here dislike them as well. Shall we expel them?" "It's not our land — can you even do that?" "That district falls under the jurisdiction of the mercenaries and our Mongol friends, so yes, it's possible." Ah? So it's not a nation, but there are local jurisdictions? Oh? I should tell these people to just found a country here. No one's claimed the land yet, after all. All this vast territory, sitting empty. "The Mongols and the western mercenaries get along quite well, I take it?" "At this point, they're practically family." Centuries of living side by side without a major war would do that. "Gather the leaders and talk them into it gently. If life here suits them, encourage them to settle down and build themselves a nation." They'd make an excellent breakwater against Europe and the Middle East. If they could filter out the religious wars that would inevitably come crashing in someday, right here, so much the better! "The land is vast — there's no need for them to crowd into one place. They just need a focal point." "Is this truly necessary?" "If we drive these people out, it ultimately just means they'll come attack us instead, doesn't it? The stronger and more solid they are here, the better. It's exactly like when the Sui attacked Joseon and we repelled them." War is best fought on someone else's land. Whatever the justification may be. "What matters is how they themselves feel about it, so just sound out their opinions." "I have friends among the chieftains. I'll ask around." For this kind of maneuvering, the Intelligence Bureau is better suited than the Foreign Ministry. Once a nation actually forms, the diplomats can take over from there. The city turned out to be far bigger than I'd imagined — it took quite a long carriage ride before the Temple finally came into view. Our Temple looked like someone had taken a Greek temple and mashed it together with Rome's Colosseum. Pillars rose in dense rows in a great circle, but instead of a roofed center, the heart of it was a broad grassy meadow with trees planted throughout. The remaining rooms and main buildings extended outward from that circle's edge. "But what is this? You built it this big?" "It has to be big to convey majesty, does it not?" Majesty for me? This punk is saying things that make no sense at all. Even the elders used to grumble that if I was going to live forever anyway, I should at least hurry up and give them great-grandchildren — and I had to endure it as nagging. "Goodness, how much gold and silver did they plaster on this thing?" "We used a modest amount." Gold ornaments inlaid with grooves filled with more gold — and oh! Over there stood a golden statue of a deity (me). It was like gazing upon a colossal golden Buddha. "Couldn't someone just steal all this?" "We patrol it, and there are plenty of priests about. Would they dare?" Right, the priests. Even from this distance I could see them swarming, sweating buckets. The problem was the ones drenched in sweat while hoisting lumps of iron that looked heavier than my entire body with a single hand. When men like that wander around constantly, anyone caught prying something loose or slipping it into their pocket might well end up as powder. Yikes! Grab a man's head with just a hand and it would probably pop like a grape. No wonder the poor kids are too intimidated to even resist. If you get sent to one of those prayer rooms, you come out mentally rehabilitated — no psychiatric hospital required!
Bustle, bustle
Out on the streets of Mudo, I saw every race imaginable. Hair black, white, gold, brown — even red.
Eyes ran the full spectrum too: blue, brown, black, gray.
Every people of western Europe down through the Middle East of the south. Aside from the Southeast Asians, it seemed like the entire world had gathered in one place.
"Have a beer! We've got beer!"
Oh? Beer? That piqued my curiosity.
Watching foreigners run restaurants here, and speak our language while doing it, was honestly rather entertaining.
"Hello. Some beer and meat, please."
"Hm? We've plenty of meat, but would you trust me to choose for you?"
"Of course. Whatever you do best."
"Not even asking the price — and you call it an order? Haha. Very well, allow me to show off my craft!"
"Thank you~"
Could you even call it a restaurant? There was a kitchen-slash-storage room inside, and out front, tables and chairs simply set up along the roadside.
Pedestrians crowded past, alongside oxen and horses, the air thick with dust and the smell of dung — the classic face of a medieval city.
Ah. I'd lost my mind. Why on earth had I let myself be lured in by the promise of beer and sat down in a place like this?
I wanted to grab my self of a few moments ago by the collar and shake some sense into her.
Swoosh
"Pardon my intrusion."
Sharing tables was apparently the done thing here. Someone had been seated at the neighboring table, and a man simply slid in beside me.
"I shall intrude as well."
Before me sat a man straight out of some old film — deep-set bulging eyes and a chin like a shovel.
How does a jaw even grow like that? My eyes kept drifting back to it.
"Aha-ha! My, my."
What now? He looked like a stick of butter, and why did he keep slicking his hair back? It was greasy and clumped together.
Ugh, absolutely filthy. I think I caught a whiff of something unwashed, too.
"Might you join me for supper this evening? I do have another engagement, but for your sake, I would cancel it without a moment's hesitation."
What is this clown trying to pull?
"..."
"No need to be shy!"
I was only staring because his chin was shaped like a scientific curiosity, and he's already spouting nonsense?
Clunk, clunk
"I shall bring your beer first. The food will take a little longer."
Uh... this isn't right.
Wasn't beer supposed to be something crisp and fizzy, something cool that slid refreshingly down your throat?
Glub, glub
Whatever it was, it seemed to still be fermenting — bubbles kept burbling up from something thick and porridge-like.
So I was still underestimating the Middle Ages...
Gulp
But something had been served, so I steeled myself and took a sip. Wow! This is...
Barley makgeolli? What is with this taste, like makgeolli gone off...
"Ho..."
"Eh-heh-heh. The beer does not suit your palate, I see?"
Gulp gulp
The shovel-jawed oaf was drinking it down just fine. I'd be far better off with some cheongju or soju.
I'd always assumed soju was nothing more than distilling alcohol and water out of the mash — but it turns out that distilled liquid gets run through barrels packed with medicinal herbs or secret ingredients to make the final drink!
That's where all those varied aromas and flavors come from, I learned.
Even in Daehan alone, there are an absolutely staggering number of soju varieties.
Thunk
Enough was enough — I pulled out my favorite, raspberry soju!
The sweet edge on this one is genuinely delicious! The proof is a touch high, but...
"Hm? Where did you get that?"
Got nothing better to do? What's with all the curiosity? Given how you've been ignoring my answers until now, shouldn't you pretend not to care?
Glug-glug-glug
I fished out an extra cup and poured, and that honeyed fragrance bloomed outward in an instant.
"Gulp. Aahh~"
Yes, THIS! That porridge-like sludge isn't alcohol at all!
"Wine, is it?"
"Care for a taste?"
"I would be honored."
There's raspberry in it, so does it even count as wine anymore?
Glug-glug-glug
"My thanks."
It pained me to give it away, but I had plenty — one cup was nothing.
"Gulp. Ke-HACK!"
What the—? Is he allergic or something?
"A fire blazing through the belly, a subtle perfume of grape! And sweetness as well! It is perfection itself!"
"That's a relief."
"What manner of drink is this!"
"It's just ordinary soju from Daehan?"
"Oh! Daehan!"
Should I go into the liquor business? That does sound fun...