Too Many Bandits
The bandits were getting out of hand.
Something enormous was happening in Japan.
Daehan had poured its poison into the country.
Tea and snacks, no less.
The buzz of the crowd.
"What on earth is going on?"
From before the gates even opened in the early morning, people had been pouring into Nakamura's domain in droves.
"They're all people who've come to buy Daehan goods, my lord."
"I see…."
"And it's not just here—the port is in an uproar as well."
Nakamura found himself in a bit of a bind. With an expedition looming, all these crowds meant he'd have to divert more men toward keeping the peace at home.
Well, more people means more taxes, so I can expand the army.
The crowds were so overwhelming that he was tempted to call off the war entirely.
But the Daehan Company was having just as hard a time of it.
"How much tea do you have left? And the yokan and chocolate?"
"I was here first! Me first!"
"Hey! No cutting in line! Get to the back!"
Plenty of people didn't hesitate to shove and wrestle each other for a spot. And here was the funny part—even their brawling was conducted in Daehan Language. At some point, it had become the closest thing the region had to a common tongue.
Thud.
"Gah!"
"What the—!"
Down into their midst dropped a company employee in armor.
"Quiet down and line up properly! What is this disgraceful behavior?! Anyone who causes a disturbance will be planted headfirst in the ground—mark my words!"
When the booming voice roared across the square, it felt as if eardrums would burst on the spot.
"Y-yes, sir!"
"Ugh!"
"My… my ears!"
The crowd quieted down at once, though not without a few casualties along the way.
And so the people stood in line, peacefully buying their goods.
The Naniwa branch of Daehan ran its sales by setting up counters in front of an enormous warehouse to receive customers. Ask for whatever you wanted, and it would be brought straight out from the warehouse behind.
Even with twenty counters in operation, the lines showed no sign of shrinking.
"Remarkable, isn't it? This many people buying, and the goods never run dry."
"This is my sixth visit, and I've never once heard them say they've sold out."
A fair portion of Daehan's production was automated these days. Cotton cloth and cotton batting spun from their cotton fields, in particular, were produced in staggering quantities—and sold in even more staggering quantities.
Japan still dressed mostly in rough hemp cloth, you see. Once you'd worn soft cotton, you could never go back to coarse hemp again.
"How can cotton cloth possibly be this cheap?"
"Does the stuff grow on trees or something?"
"Hmm? Actually, that might be exactly it."
They picked up some rather odd misconceptions along the way, too.
Today's cotton sales were another roaring success. For the Japanese, rather than weaving their own cloth, it was far more profitable to do other work for wages and buy their cotton from Daehan.
"Well, if cotton's gotten cheaper, that's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Hmm?"
"That stuff~"
As cotton grew cheap, the women who had once woven cloth began turning to other trades.
Some panned for gold in the mines and rivers, but the most visibly booming business was houses that sold their bodies.
"So~ how's the place you're staying at?"
"The women there are too fierce. Thinking of moving."
"Come to mine. It's not bad at all."
"Oh? Let's go together, then."
With so many merchants traveling through, plenty of houses ran lodging businesses—and nearly all of them were run by gatherings of women.
Sharing a bed for the night was simply part of the service.
Meanwhile, at the opposite end of the spectrum stood an exquisitely appointed counter—one that merchants actually entered as a room.
"You've come to purchase tea ware, I understand?"
"Yes. Might we look around and choose for ourselves?"
"Of course. Right this way, please."
Behind that counter lay tea sets, jewels, and all manner of crafts—high-priced goods, which was why noble houses so often sent representatives in place of coming themselves.
The room the merchant was led into was lined with display cases divided into countless compartments, each holding a complete tea set.
"Each display case contains pieces crafted by a single artisan. Do keep that in mind as you browse."
"I see. Thank you."
And so the merchant examined the tea bowls with the utmost care.
"May I touch them?"
"Of course—please put on these gloves first."
The attendant handed over gloves of woven cotton; even fingerprints were to be guarded against.
"Please be careful—cotton gloves can be slippery. Any breakage through carelessness will need to be compensated."
Gulp. "…Understood."
The merchant's hands trembled as he examined the tea set.
It was a matched set—break one piece, and he'd have to buy the whole thing. And this single set cost more than the house he lived in….
"Phew… I'll take this one."
"An excellent eye, sir. This is the work of one of our finest artisans."
A work of art, no less? The tea set was becoming art. Of course, the attendant was lying—it was simply a matter of picking out the prettiest pieces from among the tens of thousands of bowls rolling off the production line.
Making this porcelain was, after all, the single most common line of work on the Eastern Continent these days.
"Then I'll take some yokan and chocolate as well."
"Certainly. One moment, please. Would you like sandalwood, or ebony?"
"Ebony, please."
And before the merchant's very eyes, the attendant wrapped the tea set in silk and nestled it into a box lined with cotton batting—a box, mind you, made of ebony.
It would put a modern luxury boutique to shame.
What this Japanese man could never have imagined was that the box and the silk cost more than the bowls themselves.
After all, this was a matter of picking the pretty ones from the hundreds of thousands of bowls bought on the Eastern Continent for a pittance, and selling them at a hundred times the price.
But even as this craze for Daehan swept across Japan, not everyone took part in it.
No—it would be more accurate to say they couldn't.
"Tch… the rich domains get to feast while the rest of us starve."
There were plenty of poor daimyos. Some ruled lands with too few people, others with soil that yielded a miserable harvest.
"Then it's decided. Gather the warriors."
"Do you intend to invade Nakamura's domain, my lord?"
"Invade that? We'd be attacked from all four sides. What nonsense is that?"
The fact that Nakamura had once moved to attack his neighbors and then stopped had turned out to be a stroke of genius.
His domain had effectively become a sort of jointly administered zone—a neutral territory—where an unspoken agreement held that no one would attack it.
Every lord who had raided a Daehan shop and then withdrawn had since learned just how ruinous a long-term loss that retreat had been.
"We'll strike the merchants instead."
"Yes, my lord!"
"Prepare the fast-footed ones."
"We'll gather the ashigaru."
And so, some of the daimyos turned to banditry. It began in Naniwa—
"Is it those men?"
"Yes. Everyone entering that place is known to be buying tea and valuables."
Since the valuable goods were sold at a separate location, the targets were all too easy to identify.
And so a handful of men began shadowing them in secret. They were ashigaru—lightly armed mercenaries—who would do anything for coin.
"Find out where they lodge, and confirm their departure dates and how many guards they'll have."
However quietly the mercenaries moved, the merchants were men who had survived a lifetime on their wits, living by careful observation. They caught on quickly and began looking for countermeasures.
"What if we all travel together?"
"Right? The more of us who gather, the more guards we can afford, won't we?"
Traveling in large groups meant more escorts—a reasonably sensible plan. The problem was those who had to travel far, or through remote country.
"Even all together we're only about forty—and I fear we'd only be fattening their purses for them…."
"Still, what choice do we have…."
And so the merchants began leaving Naniwa in great, crowded packs.
Which left the mercenaries who had been watching them chasing chickens, only to watch the coop empty.
"Tch… those merchants actually used their heads."
"Captain, what do we do?"
"We wait. The right prey will show itself eventually."
After a long vigil, deep in the dead of night, a group slipped out of the city under cover of darkness.
"Yawwwn… huh?"
"You see them too?"
"Merchants, aren't they?"
"Forty or so, I'd say?"
"I'll tail them—hurry and tell the captain!"
At last, a band of merchants suitable for the mercenaries' purposes had appeared.
Whether the merchants suspected as much or not, they hurried along the road at midnight—and silently, a shadow fell in behind them.
Their downfall, ironically, was the glint of the guards' weapons in the dark. Visible from far away, as it happened.
"Whew, whew. Let's rest a while…."
"We've hardly come any distance. It would be better to push on farther before resting."
"Sorry, but my legs have given out on me…."
The goods rode on horses while the men walked—traveling merchants were the peculiar institution of Japan.
"There's no helping it, then…."
Seeing the merchant's trembling legs, the guard apparently decided it couldn't be helped. If it were merely the cargo, they could shoulder a load or two, but carrying a man was a burden even for them.
"Hoo…."
Truth be told, half the merchants had been at the limit of their strength and were hoping for exactly this rest, and so the whole party gathered at the roadside.
"Yawwwn… it's chilly."
Tap tap.
Shivering, one merchant gathered kindling from the roadside and began striking his flint to build a fire.
"No! There could be pursuers on our trail—what are you doing?!"
The guard nearly jumped out of his skin. He knew all too well how far sound and firelight carried on a night like this.
"Ah… I'm just too cold. Besides, if anyone were chasing us, they'd have caught us ages ago, wouldn't they?"
The merchant knew the warrior's caution was sound, but he also knew that if he slept in this cold, he'd likely take to his bed with sickness within days. He was desperate in his own way, too.
"Still, wouldn't it be wiser to be careful?"
"My apologies. But isn't it a bigger problem if I fall ill and can't walk at all?"
"Hoo…."
Left with no choice, they covered themselves with their clothes and built a small, modest campfire.
Stare into a fire in the middle of the night, and your night vision is bound to fade. Even the guards keeping watch around the camp failed to notice the group that had them surrounded at a distance.
Rustle, rustle.
"Hm?"
Then the men sprawled by the roadside heard the sound of footsteps treading grass.
"Who goes there—!"
Thunk.
"Gwah…."
Out of the darkness came spearpoints flying in silence.
The blades were coated in mud, which was why the merchants' party had never noticed their approach.
"Enemies!"
"Aaagh!"
"Urk…."
The attackers numbered barely twenty, but the surprise strike had cut down far too many guards in a single stroke.
"Up, all of you! Enemies!"
Clang!
A ferocious battle of blood erupted by the roadside in the dead of night.
Guards and merchants alike drew their blades and fought back, and the attackers found it hard to close in.
"Fall back!"
"If… if it's ransom you want, we'll pay any amount!"
Sssshk.
The attackers withdrew, melting back into the darkness.
"Oh…."
"It seems they mean to negotiate."
Thwip, thwip, thunk.
"Gah."
"Ugh!"
Then came a sudden volley of arrows. Some died outright; guards and merchants alike collapsed wounded all across the camp.
"Damn it all!"
The night was long, and now they were wounded besides—the passage of time favored the attackers.
Unable to treat their wounds, the injured guards bled out and toppled one by one, and when only a handful remained—
Rustle.
The attackers advanced once more, spears in hand.
"These bastards. They've done this more than once, haven't they!"
"Kheheheh."
"Heh heh heh."
Mercenaries in name only—when it came down to it, these were men who lived as bandits and brigands.
They plundered remote villages, and now and then hired themselves out as mercenaries to fight in wars.
"Die quietly. It'll hurt less that way."
"Can't you just let us go?"
"Would you let us go, if you were us?"
"Gh…."
The attackers had to kill every last one of them. If word got out, it would ruin their next job.
And so the midnight bloodbath ended in the utter defeat of the merchant band.
"Uuungh…."
"Hand it over! Now!"
What the dying merchant clutched to his last breath was not a box of tea ware, but a single bolt of cotton cloth meant for his family.
"Khh…."
His breath failed him, but he could not even close his eyes—he could only watch the bandits' faces.
As the mercenaries gathered up the merchants' cargo and coin and set off for parts unknown, their footsteps were impossibly light.
"They say this stuff fetches a fortune. Shouldn't we skim a little off the top?"
"What's the point? Where would we even sell it?"
"Wouldn't the nobles buy it?"
"Buy goods that bandits clearly stole? Get real."
They were bandits through and through—anyone who bought from them would have no guarantee they weren't handed counterfeits. There wasn't a soul who'd take the goods off their hands.
Even if they offered the genuine article….
"For men like us, the best deal is handing it all to a daimyo and taking our payment in gold and silver ingots."
"Haah… I'm sick of this wandering life."
"Why not join up as proper warriors, then?"
"And become a house dog, standing guard around some boring keep? Not in a thousand years."
Bandit bands were sprouting up everywhere across Japan—and naturally, it was starting to interfere with Haneul's business.
"Excuse me? You're laying hands on MY goods? Isn't that a declaration of war against me personally?"
Strictly speaking, the goods were sold the moment customers bought them—but every customer the bandits scared away was money out of her pocket, wasn't it?