The Shang-Zhou War
As time passed, the atrocities the Shang Dynasty had committed spread and mutated like a snowball rolling downhill, taking on strange new forms.
Human sacrifice was still going strong. Cruel tortures designed to torment people were on the rise, and even a culture of coveting men was flourishing to this day.
And according to the reports, things were only getting worse?
Not to mention the bands of bandits rampaging in every direction.
"So the country split in half, you're saying?"
"Yes. Apparently a nation called 'Zhou' has been founded in the west."
Nearly three hundred years after the Shang Dynasty appeared, the country had broken in two. Weren't nations supposed to last much longer than that?
Then again, after all that stirring of the pot, it would've been weirder if things had stayed the same...
"Wouldn't it be better to pull the kids out?"
"Yes. The news we get through the food merchants is still good, so I believe withdrawal would be wise."
They said the country had split east and west, but looking at the map, the mountainous region where our kids were operating sat smack in the middle, overlapping both sides.
"Mm. They've been at it a long time, and the merchants have gotten a taste of money. Let's use them."
"Yes. And the wealth they've accumulated in the meantime is enormous."
Their stated mission was intelligence gathering, yet no matter how firmly I told them that, they kept stealing and plundering things anyway.
First slave traders, now bandits.
"Those two will go to war soon, won't they?"
"Yes. It certainly looks that way."
Should we stop selling them food? I was hoping the war would last a long time. Better to let both sides bleed each other dry than to prop up whichever side happened to be losing and make enemies of them both, right?
"When the war breaks out, let's stop selling food."
"Must we? Wouldn't they pay even more?"
"And then wouldn't both sides end up holding a grudge against us?"
"Hmm..."
You're torn too, aren't you?
"Then we sell in secret!"
Huh? In secret? How?
"Can that even work? Zhou is way back inland, isn't it?"
"We'll find a suitable spot and punch a hole through."
Is that actually possible? Because if it is, the whole conversation changes? I don't even need the money — I just want them to fight as long as possible?
"What's the rough plan?"
"We have the Luo River — the Yellow River, that is. We sail upstream and sell to Zhou from the interior, and for Shang, we scout out a good spot along the coast. That should do it."
This one's got quite the head on her shoulders too. We could just collapse Toseong or something and be done with it?
Something about this feels off, though?
"Hmm..."
"Is something the matter?"
"Ah!!"
Wait, doesn't this make it smuggling? Why is every single thing we do some kind of low-life scheme? Slave trading, then banditry, now smuggling?
What is wrong with this country... It's not like we're short on money. Why do we keep doing exactly this?
"No, wait. If we get caught doing this too, it won't sound good, right?"
"Oh, the Intelligence Bureau kids will handle it! This is their specialty, after all."
I... I've got a feeling about this! I'd bet anything the next thing will be piracy. Just you watch.
And so we sold goods evenly to both sides — to Zhou via the Luo River, and to Shang along the eastern coast. Mostly food and luxury goods.
We considered selling bronze weapons too, but I told them to hold off — I figured copper was too precious even with conservation efforts.
Instead, we sold wooden bows and wooden arrows by the cartload. For those kids out there fighting a war in nothing but clothes, even wooden arrows were plenty terrifying! I mean, I suppose they could've strapped stones on them, but who cares.
About thirty years? They diligently mined gold and offered it up, gathering their strength, and then—
In the year 1068 of Daehan, the war finally began.
"Hmm? What kind of dog-crap nonsense is this?"
"Yes. I think the same thing, but I felt obliged to report it."
Those two have lost their minds? They're asking us to send reinforcements.
"When exactly did we ever promise them that?"
What a headache. Should I just go over there and knock down a palace or two?
"Calm yourself. We're not sending anything. I only mentioned it so you'd be aware."
What to do?
"Play it by ear. Throw in a little extra on top while you're at it, and let the kids fight until they've torn each other out by the roots."
"Oh ho. So that's an option!"
We tell them, 'We know funds are tight, but we had plenty left over this time, so please, take more' — and they'll gobble it right up, won't they!
Now THAT is the art of the con.
"Truly, you are a bandit chief among bandit chiefs!"
"What did you call me, punk?"
"Magnificent, as always!"
Wait, is this guy buttering me up?
The war between Shang and Zhou settled into a stalemate, each side forever exactly one step short of victory.
The vast land of China was no small country — even when they were winning, they couldn't simply advance without end.
Wars have what's called a culminating point of attack. Usually supply problems mean you simply can't push any farther.
"Hmm. So they've run out of steam?"
"How fascinating. So THIS is the famous culminating point of attack?"
We had the hard-won — fine, stolen — map of China spread out before us, drawing lines across it.
Zhou, resupplied via the river, held the advantage, controlling the larger share of the Central Plains.
No matter how much we supplied them from the interior, they were still faring better than Shang, which had to receive everything through the coast.
"What's wrong? Can't quite figure it out?"
"No, sir. It's difficult."
"Gather every last scrap of intelligence on this war. Not one detail may slip through."
"Is that really necessary? It's another country's war."
Ah, I see. He's never fought a real war, so he doesn't understand why it matters.
"We have to analyze other nations' wars and turn them into our own experience. Especially for us, who've never been through one — that makes it all the more important."
That's exactly why we treat war history as its own discipline.
"Then we must investigate thoroughly which strategies win wars!"
He understood a little, but only half of it.
"The most important thing is collecting examples of failure."
What mattered wasn't brilliant stratagems that led to victory — the kind we'd never be able to use anyway.
"Hmm? Not examples of victory?"
"It's easy to get confused, but remember: the side that makes fewer mistakes wins the war. Never, ever forget that."
"I understand."
He probably still doesn't get it, but there's nothing to be done. Some things you only learn by living through them.
"While we're at it, create a department dedicated to analyzing other nations' wars. We'll call it the War Analysis Bureau. Recruit analysts and gather the sharpest minds we have."
If it could reduce bloodshed even a little, future generations would sing our praises for it.
"Yes, sir. It will be an important department."
"Very. Important."
Especially once the age of great wars arrived and gunpowder began spilling blood — it would shine then.
With a flourish of silk, I unrolled a scroll in silence. A single line of calligraphy flowed from my brush without a word.
'If you desire peace, prepare for war.'
With a soft pat of the brush lifting away, I handed it over.
"Take it. Hang it in the most visible spot in the War Analysis Bureau."
"If you desire peace, prepare for war..."
What's this? Why is this old man suddenly moved?
"I see it must be truly important, then?"
"As important as the Ministry of Agriculture and the Ministry of Crafts."
The two things I value most in this world — farming and technology. That's about the size of it. He got the message, right?
"Understood, sir."
In the year 1100 of Daehan, the War Analysis Bureau — destined to leave its mark on world history — was founded.
"Haah... Why on earth do these people charge archer units forward without any shields?"
"Well, they do pick up wooden planks afterward, don't they?"
"They just didn't know any better, I suppose?"
The two of them grew more flabbergasted with every story they traded.
"Still, let's record our analysis properly."
"Indeed. Did it never occur to them to think, even a little?"
"I imagine it's because it wasn't the nobles' own lives on the line?"
"Ah. Write that one down too."
The two analysts worked calmly, setting their observations to paper.
"What?! You rascal! Are you saying I'm wrong?!"
"Obviously you flank around that position!"
"And you think the enemy archers would just sit there and let them?!"
"They wouldn't sit there! Which is why you think of a way to counter it — honestly, have you ever seen such an idiot?!"
"Why, you—!"
CRASH! WHACK!
Desks and chairs went tumbling as yet another pair of analysts plunged headlong into battle.
And over their shoulders, hanging quietly on every wall, were the words that Haneul himself had penned.
The original hung at the entrance of the building itself.
With a deep bow to the inscription before entering, every face crossing that threshold was filled with resolve.
Fights broke out inside, arguments raged — but they all wished for one and the same thing.
The safety of this nation, and the honoring of His will.
"So you're saying you want to play war?"
"No, it's not exactly... playing..."
"Hmm. Nothing wrong with it, I suppose. Go ahead."
They want to gather in droves and swing swords around for fun. What odd creatures these people are. Wait — are they actually going to use real blades?
"Hold on. We're not using real weapons, right?"
"Wooden ones would snap the moment we swung them. What should we do?"
"Hmm... Use iron rods, and for arrows, pad the tips with cotton balls dipped in dye so we can tell who got hit."
It wasn't exactly survival training, and no better method came to mind...
"Won't that get rather dull?"
"Do you actually want a war where real people die?"
We do this mock battle thing seriously! This man has completely lost the plot.
"No, sir."
"Let one word get around that somebody died in a mock battle, and I'm sending every last one of you to hell..."
"Hiiiiek!"
The threat of hell still works wonders.
The reason this kind of talk was even happening was that the war was drawing to a close. Perhaps the outcome had been decided from the very beginning.
Even in the middle of a war, the Shang treated people as expendable resources while their nobles busied themselves with luxury.
Unlike the goods flowing into Zhou, far too much of what we sent Shang's way had been luxury items.
"And that's why Zhou, which started at a disadvantage, seized the upper hand."
They were doomed from the start anyway, honestly...
In the year 1128 of Daehan, the war between Shang and Zhou — a full sixty years long — finally came to an end with Zhou's victory.
"I'm genuinely worried. What was the point of winning?"
The Central Plains of China had been reduced to absolute garbage. Who knew how many years it would take to reclaim and restore that land?
"Well, the farming will be good at least."
Just thinking of the blood and corpses soaked into that soil made me shudder.
THWACK
"Ow."
POW
"Ugh..."
Whew. I'm angry. I am FURIOUS!
"Did I or did I not tell you no one dies?"
Playing their little war games, and one of them finally went and got himself killed. I gave them exactly one instruction...
"Twenty years ago, though..."
"What? One death in twenty years and you think that's going too far?"
The number isn't the point. The point is that there was an accident at all.
"Numbers don't matter. An accident means our preparations were sloppy — THAT is what I'm talking about."
"I apologize, sir."
"Do better. You must protect real human lives with everything you have."
"Yes, sir!"
"Right. Off you go."
I couldn't blame him too harshly, I suppose. What fault was his? The idiot who fired an arrow with a real steel tip when he'd been told not to — he's the one at fault.
"Um... an envoy has arrived from Zhou, sir."
"From Zhou? There hasn't been a single exchange since the war ended, has there?"
The moment the war ended, they'd cut off all trade and gone into internal consolidation, most likely. I figured they'd come buy extra food during the rebuilding — but they never did?
"No, sir. Even when we sent covert traders into civilian markets, they report the merchants keep dwindling. Something has happened over there."
Did they ban commerce outright? Cracking down too hard is never good — and shutting it down won't even help them anyway?
So the old scholar-farmer-artisan-merchant hierarchy really was their baseline? There were barely any merchants even back in the Shang days, come to think of it.
Ugh, what a hassle. A guest is coming, so there was chaos all morning just getting me dressed up nicely for the first time in ages.
Sigh... When will this ceremony stuff get streamlined? Maybe I should just start a fashion trend myself?
"The envoy is entering."
"Mm. Very well."
Tap. Tap.
Shoes must have improved somewhat. The sound of hard soles on the floor, at least.
"Greetings. I am Wang Hui, an envoy from the Kingdom of Zhou. It is an honor to meet you."
"Nice to meet you. You've come a long way — must have been exhausting. It's nothing special, but have a seat here."
As always, we had no formal protocol. A guest arrives, we share a meal, have some tea. That's about it.
He seemed flustered? What exactly had he been expecting?
"Ahaha. Why, thank you."
"I've prepared chrysanthemum tea — my favorite. It has a lovely fragrance."
"Oh. You drink flowers as tea? This is a first for me."
"It helps with headaches and calms the mind."
"Ah! It has medicinal properties too, then."
Hmm? Is this guy really steeping any random plant into tea without verifying its effects? When I tried brewing herbs before, they came out practically like medicine decoctions?
What's he here to talk about? Might as well listen and find out.