Nine Ships and a Princess
"So where did you run off to this time?"
Well, this is a problem. Where even is Assyria? A year round trip by ship? Maybe I can just let it slide.
"They only plundered one ship. They wouldn't chase them all the way here over that, would they?"
"Uh..."
What now? Why do you keep trailing off like that? It's making me nervous.
"A... fleet..."
A fleet? Like, a whole armada of them? Well, right. Ships that big, I suppose they could haul back quite a lot.
"They call themselves an empire, so losing a fleet or so shouldn't be a problem, shouldn't it?"
"Uh..."
"What?"
"Nine ships..."
Hmm... no idea~ What's done is done, right?
"Oh, come on, it's already done. What can you do? Let it go!"
"But..."
"Ugh, what!"
Trailing off again? Don't tell me there's something even bigger?
"Apparently they brought back a princess?"
"Why?"
"I'm not entirely sure myself..."
"You've got to be kidding me?"
"I'm sorry..."
A princess could actually turn into a real problem, though? What do I do?
"Well, at least they didn't traffick any humans, right?"
"What's human trafficking?"
"Kidnapping! Why would you bring back people!?"
"Well, you see..."
Gah! Trailing off AGAIN! Stop that! Maybe I should just stop listening?
"They... charmed the ladies into coming along..."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Unbelievable."
"Pardon?"
Somehow, not swearing just isn't an option today.
It's not like you can seduce someone just because your cultures are different, right? And a princess must have seen plenty of handsome men back home, no?
"It is an honor to meet you!"
"We pay our respects to the sovereign of a foreign land."
I'm not a king, but fine, whatever. I was too curious not to summon her at least once. Now's not the time for cumbersome greetings, though.
"Miss? No—princess?"
"Call me whichever you prefer. You may shorten my name to Izel."
"Okay. Sure, Izel. So why exactly did you come along?"
"When we first met, it was..."
Why are your eyes going all dreamy in such a creepy way?
Shwaak, shwaak.
In the year 1740 of Daehan, nine freshly launched Orca-class warships sliced through the open sea in formation, passing into the Arabian Gulf.
"Captain, where on earth could this be?"
"How would I know? We just keep sailing, that's all."
With no clocks yet in existence, there was no calculating an exact position at sea. All the men of the sea could do was guess roughly where they were from experience—and push on, endlessly, toward the horizon.
"Tell the boys to take a break. It's hot as blazes and they're wearing themselves out."
"They insist they have to row at least four hours a day or their muscles will shrink, sir."
Rowing is hardly your average heavy labor, is it? Four hours of exercise a day... These guys are monsters.
"Where could we be? I've never seen a sea this hot in my life."
"Still better than that humid stretch where sweat never dried, wouldn't you say?"
The first coast these explorers, setting out from Daedo in earnest, had reached was a tropical rainforest so stiflingly humid they could barely breathe. The snakes and insects had been beyond counting, too—unless they went ashore for fruit or fresh water, they never once left the ships.
Bwoooooo.
A horn signal blared from the lead vessel.
"What did they spot?"
"Who knows?"
The signal meant the flagship had sighted something. They had already been sailing for more than four months since leaving Daedo, without finding so much as a hint of civilization.
"Fishing boats! Off in the distance!"
The shout rang down from a sailor sweeping the horizon with a telescope at the top of the mast.
"Then there must be a port nearby! Follow them!"
The fishermen, catching sight of the strange ships, fled in absolute terror, rowing for shore with everything they had. But why on earth would a little boat be slower than massive warships? Before anyone knew it, the great vessels were gliding along right beside them.
"What's the matter with them?"
To the Daehan sailors, it made no sense at all—those men were rowing themselves half to death, heaving and gasping for air.
"Who knows? We just wanted to have a little chat, that's all."
Though judging by the looks of them, the 'chat' would probably be conducted with blades?
The Orca-class warships, being sharp-bottomed, couldn't run up onto the sandbars the way the old flat-bottoms had, so the crews piled into small boats and rowed for the coast.
"But will we even be able to make ourselves understood?"
"Eh, something'll work out."
"Right? Didn't Haneul-nim say that if something doesn't work, the first thing to suspect is that we're not using enough force?"
Isn't that message a teensy bit distorted?
"Did he? I thought it was 'if you're strong enough, you don't have to think'?"
"Isn't that the same thing?"
"Hmm... is it?"
The two discussed, with perfect serenity, a topic that would have made Haneul clutch the back of his neck and keel over on the spot. As it happened, though, the shore held nothing but empty houses—every last soul had fled.
"No grand buildings in sight, and nothing that looks worth taking."
"It's only the coastline—can't tell what's out there. Let's push on."
The sons of Daehan followed a well-laid road upstream along the river.
"Nothing but sand as far as the eye can see, huh?"
"Apparently they only farm near the river."
The land sprawled out vast and endless, but the only thing visible in any direction was sand. Only along the riverbanks did any green crops or grasses manage to grow.
"Wow, they've even paved proper roads. Follow these and there's bound to be something, right?"
"Heheheh. Now I can't wait."
"Should we pick up the pace?"
"I'm getting antsy—let's jog!"
The leader of the band wore an expectant grin that looked suspiciously like a bandit's.
Running for ages without so much as breaking a sweat, they began to hear a strange sound at the edge of their hearing.
Doom, doom, doom, doom.
"Oh! Hoofbeats!"
"Horses? Form up and raise shields!"
A band of mounted warriors was galloping toward them in the distance, spears and shields in hand, with chariots carrying archers rolling along behind.
"What's this? Not a word said, and they want to jump straight to a fight?"
"Hahaha! So glad we came!"
Faced with the prospect of a battle, they were positively delighted. Perhaps the 'conversation' these men kept mentioning really was one of bodies, after all?
"Perfect timing. Spare the horses wherever you can!"
"Yes, sir!"
Why on earth would anyone order them to save the horses?
"Huh? Why aren't any arrows coming?"
They had assumed the mounted enemy would shoot first, and so waited shields raised, utterly baffled. Everyone knew arrows loosed from horseback carried the horse's speed with them and flew that much farther.
"Shall we shoot first, then?"
"Why not?"
The gap in bow range between the two sides proved to be considerable. As the Daehan men unslung the bows coiled at their hips and began to loose, the desert soldiers dropped like dry leaves before they could even close the distance.
And so the sons of Daehan made off with the soldiers' horses.
"They hit us once, so we should return the favor, eh?"
"Quite right, sir!"
Had they actually been properly hit, though? Hadn't the handful who got close been sent off to the afterlife by spear and sword?
"Hahaha! THIS is why I love the sea! Come on—grab everything and let's head home!"
"WAAAAAAAH!"
Thus did a horde of foreign bandits descend upon the Arabian Gulf.
For four whole months, these men roved from place to place, plundering as they went. Scouting far ahead with telescopes, they crushed anyone worth fighting and ran from anyone they weren't. Against armies they were ruthless and savage; toward anyone who didn't resist, they were gentle as lambs. A bandit crew with a policy of robbing only nobles and palaces.
And in all those places, there had been young ladies throwing themselves at them with hearts blazing in their eyes—Izel among them.
"You're the first man I've ever met who's so kind even to women."
Huh? That? They've just never seen our women, have they? Our girls may look delicate, but they can crack a man's skull clean open. They're only gentle because they're scared of getting hit back.
Our guys have the strength but maybe not the flexibility? They never can hold their own in a scrap with the girls.
"Th... that's nice..."
"Then... might we also live here?"
Quite a few women had followed them home, I noticed. Quite a few pregnant ones, too.
"Of course. Welcome to Daehan."
"Thank you kindly."
"By the way..."
"Yes? Speak freely."
This one I absolutely have to ask...
"You're a princess, right? They're not going to come marching in here looking for you, are they?"
"Even if they wished to, they could never manage it. They have no great ships, and on the journey here I saw for myself that it is not a crossing achieved by a day or two of effort."
What a relief. Hm? Wait—that's not something I should be worried about, is it? Too far away for an army to come. Then I suppose I ought to throw them a grand wedding.
"Live happily, then, and spend your days doing whatever you wish."
"Yes. Thank you."
This whole affair turned out to be an absolute jackpot.
You see, our people had been drawing thread by hand, one strand at a time.
They had looms, but no spinning machines. The ladies who arrived this time taught them how it was done. On top of that, the patterns began turning truly extravagant. In that country, even royalty ran businesses, and the princess happened to know the dyeing trade. Combined with our own dyeing techniques, a whole spectrum of new colors came pouring in.
"Wow..."
"Extraordinarily ornate, isn't it?"
The Assyrian ladies had sent garments as gifts—covered from collar to hem in geometric patterns that made the eyes swim.
"They're pretty, but wearing them would be a bit much, no?"
"Indeed. Best to keep this one as a keepsake."
"Mm. I think a touch on the cuffs or the hem, just that much, would be prettier."
Each pattern was lovely in isolation, but this many all at once was simply too much.
Keep bringing in foreign ladies and the clothes grow prettier and prettier—but some kind of grand cultural blending is sweeping through at a terrifying pace. First it was whatever they dragged back from the Mediterranean, and now it's some desert civilization or other. These fashions will never catch on, will they? Far too busy for the eyes.
"How's the military reorganization coming along?"
Mongol kept stirring up trouble, so some manner of preparation seemed wise. If they pulled something clever and got over the walls, it would be a dreadful headache.
"As you instructed, one soldier for every two hundred citizens, rotating through three shifts, should suffice."
One in two hundred—that's 0.5%? Keeping 1.5% of the whole population standing as soldiers—could that actually hold up?
"Will it be sustainable?"
"It seems quite workable, actually. One team on wall duty, one on city patrol, one on rest leave—the soldiers are rather satisfied with the arrangement."
I'd budgeted for maybe one percent, but apparently it's fine?
"If war breaks out and we start conscripting, how do you think people will take it? Won't they resent it?"
That was my greatest worry—how eagerly the people of this country would answer the call. The border cities are well populated, sure, but it would be terribly unfair if only they had to bleed for it. I kept worrying the resentment might split the nation apart.
"Wouldn't a single word from Haneul-nim be more than enough?"
"R... right..."
His eyes just went all bright and shining. That look terrifies me. There's madness glinting in it!
The moment a war starts, they'll be shouting 'HOLY WAR!' and marching everyone into a fight to the bitter end!
"Still—no war at all is the best outcome!"
"Of course. We shall live good and honest lives."
Right—as long as nobody pokes them, they'll stay quiet. That's what he means.
I'd worried myself sick over China, but looking closely, since they never managed to unify, there's apparently nothing there to worry about at all? Scattered into squabbling factions, fighting amongst themselves, without a shred of strength to spare. Should I pop over and stir up a little trouble? They caused me so much grief back in the day that I feel a twinge of guilt—tough call. For now, I'll just keep an eye on Mongol.
"What about that big island next to Joseon-ryeong?"
"Joseon keeps eyeing it hungrily. What should we do about it?"
"Blocked by us, they can't push any further north, but I suppose the hunger for land never quite dies..."
That's the normal way of things—our people are the strange ones with no appetite for territory. Ah! Is THAT why they keep pushing ever further east?
If Joseon attempted a half-hearted invasion, all they'd get for their trouble is a lesson in our technology before being kicked back out. No point even trying, honestly. Joseon is still working in bronze, so that much is fine.
The Japanese, I hear, are still swinging stone axes.
And we have our secret weapon: the horn bow.
Maybe for lack of horn-bearing beasts, Joseon never developed horn bows—they're still using simple self bows. Those are plenty strong on their own, so I'll let them figure it out themselves.
"Well, let them try as far as they can go. When you get right down to it, it's another country's business—hardly ours to go ordering this way and that, no?"
"But they keep coming to ask US for permission..."
"Then tell them, once and for all: whatever you lot decide to do, you don't need our blessing."
"Yes. Honestly, it's been quietly getting on our nerves as well..."
Weren't they supposed to be some dogged, nagging, never-say-die nation? Even after being let go, they just keep drifting back south!