What's Up With the Han Dynasty? (1)
Every nation surrounding Daehan, aside from Daehan itself, was in an absolute uproar.
Mongol had long since fallen. The Xiongnu and Han clashed repeatedly until Han finally bought peace by offering tribute, while Joseon, pressed hard by Japan, clung to nothing but its remaining territory. After several decades of quiet, rebellion had flared up again within the Han Dynasty—though this time they managed to suppress it without collapsing. Then another few decades passed, and now word came that Han itself was attacking the Xiongnu.
They simply could not stay quiet for even a moment. Those Chinese, honestly.
"This is a total mess."
"I can't understand it at all."
"Do we know why?"
"Han sends off princesses in marriage and pays tribute, but apparently plenty of tribes refuse to listen and keep raiding them anyway."
That's just the nature of nomadic peoples. They can't be controlled.
"Wait—both sides are coming to us about this?"
Both Han and the Xiongnu were asking Daehan for help? Since when had they ever signed a treaty or conducted diplomacy with either of them?
"Hard to say."
"What exactly are they expecting us to handle?"
It was enough to make them want to smash both countries' heads in.
"Tell them to stop spouting nonsense. The War Department's still working, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. They're compiling analyses of the ongoing wars with the surrounding nations and archiving them as books."
In other words, they were writing war scenarios.
"Do one for Joseon too, obviously."
"Yes, sir! Of course!"
Another few years flowed by, and the Han Dynasty pushed its territory all the way into the Western Regions, beginning genuine trade along what could finally be called the Silk Road. Word was they'd even sent envoys across the desert to Rome, selling silk and other goods.
And then a Han envoy arrived in Daehan.
"Greetings. I am Zhang Qian, diplomatic advisor of the Han Dynasty."
"And I am Kim Han-seo, Minister of Foreign Affairs of Daehan. A pleasure."
The two men faced each other in Gunpo.
"Thank you for receiving me. The purpose of my visit is to settle the old grievances between our two nations and, perhaps, to forge a firmer friendship."
"What grievances, exactly?"
It was laughable, wasn't it? Old grievances, out of nowhere. Han-seo couldn't help but ask, courtesy forgotten.
"Heh heh. Did your ancestors not seize the lands of Han's forebears? Did they not turn to banditry?"
"Us?"
Wasn't nearly two thousand years a bit long to call something your ancestors' land? And banditry, really? Well—strictly speaking, that particular operation was the Intelligence Bureau's private side business, something unknown to the outside world.
"Heh heh. The Xiongnu, who preyed upon our Han lands, showed no remorse—and so we crushed them without mercy. If Daehan merely offers an apology, we will accept it. However, you must send tribute every year."
"Oh-ho-ho. Tribute, you say."
Daehan had taken plenty from the region, true, but sending a diplomat all this way to deliver threats dressed as negotiation? The Foreign Ministry was simply too green; any seasoned government would have declared war on the spot.
"Daehan shall send its princess to wed the Emperor, and every year you will deliver tribute of silk, grain, and the like."
"We have no princess."
"Hm? You have no king either? Then send the highest-ranking unmarried daughter of the ruling family."
"...?"
Not that they would send anyone anyway, but Han-seo thought he must have misheard. They wanted him to send Haneul-nim to marry the Han Emperor?
"...!!!"
These people had to be out of their minds. Ninety-nine percent of Daehan's people believed in the Sky Faith. The remaining one percent was excluded only as a precaution.
Anyone who knew the power of the World Tree, anyone who had ever tasted Holy Water, could believe in nothing else.
"What did you say?! How dare you! These people have clearly lost their minds!"
Han-seo had stared blankly for a moment, thinking he'd heard something wrong—then the fury truly boiled over.
"What? We never even mentioned tribute? Is Daehan permitted such grave discourtesy over a mere tribute-maiden matter? Han is, after all, the nation of the Son of Heaven, chosen by the will of Heaven itself!"
"WHAT did you just say?!"
So were they not the ones committing the discourtesy? Chosen by Heaven's will, were they? Because last anyone checked, Heaven was standing right here.
"Leave. Now."
"Hah! You will come to regret this!"
"Get out of here this instant!"
Han-seo, in his fury, had still spared the man the crudest of insults on the grounds that a diplomatic blunder deserved some shred of dignity. A victory for mankind, truly.
"..."
"I'm sorry, Your Eminence. I never intended to bring you news like this."
"So you're telling me they seriously demanded I go marry their Emperor?"
Wow. Incredible. That's one original marriage proposal. Even the prince who came from the West back in the day didn't pull anything like that.
"Perhaps I ought not to have mentioned it at all."
"Nah, it's fine. I should know about it, after all."
Unbelievable. But why are they setting the mood like this? What are they planning?
"So. What exactly are you all planning?"
"Would we have any reason not to act?"
"Hmm... At the very least, let's not strike first."
"Your Eminence, being struck first is already no different from what has happened."
This... this is bad, isn't it? The mood is completely different. Are they planning to leave nothing alive in Han? Not even a blade of grass?
"Nobody's actually died yet, have they?"
"Even so." She cracked her knuckles.
Oh boy... I'm genuinely scared right now. If this keeps up.
"Our walls are strong, aren't they? Only if someone's actually hurt, okay? I don't care how tough our people are—war means a lot of people die..."
"Sniff. Even now, with all this happening... you worry about us..."
No, that's not it—I'm terrified of what you people are about to do!
"Just prepare. Prepare only."
"Yes, Your Eminence. Your will is understood."
"Yeah..."
This is really, truly serious.
The way the story was spreading these days, the worship services weren't the casual fan club gatherings they used to be. The atmosphere had turned solemn, resolute.
Guys! Don't be like this! You're honestly scaring me!
"Yes. On the left, you can see the improved armor refined in Moda, and beside it, the horse barding to go over the mounts."
Leather armor laced with iron plates? As long as it can stop arrows, I'll take it.
"And here are the shields and axes for the axemen."
Uh... aren't those shields way too thick and heavy? I couldn't lift a single one of those.
"And this is the auxiliary device to be fitted to the composite crossbows."
What is that? They carved up some wood and made... what, exactly?
"Allow me to demonstrate."
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Hm? He's loading arrows into it? Multiple ones at a time?
"It holds ten bolts at once."
Click.
Oh? It looks something like a crossbow—so what happens now?
Chunk-thunk, chunk-thunk.
What?! The bolt launches itself the moment you hook the string? You just pull it back and squeeze the trigger, and the arrow flies?
This is insane. Sure, reloading looks like a chore once you burn through all ten, but isn't this absolutely mad?
What did they build this for? You people are taking this way too seriously!
"Incredible..."
"This is only the beginning."
Please stop...
She had truly hoped for nothing but peace. They'd made a fortune along the Silk Road, conquered every inch of that southern land besides—and it seemed all that success had simply gone to their heads.
In the year 2351 of the Daehan calendar, the Han Dynasty delivered its ultimatum. The following autumn, they invaded.
"They've completely lost their minds, huh?"
"The War Department can take command from here, I presume?"
"Yeah. Two things: don't be reckless, and don't throw your lives away for nothing. Just keep those two."
"Yes, Your Eminence. We'll relay it."
Would the nation called China actually survive this time?
November, 2352. The Han frontier south of the Great Wall.
"Commander! The scouts report the enemy is leaving the safety of their walls!"
"Send a messenger..."
"Yes, sir!"
Bongpyeong Pass was the section of the Great Wall that ran closest to the enemy fortifications.
The commander sent off his messenger and kept scanning the plain beyond. Hours passed as he stood with his telescope. Far in the distance, a black tide of humanity was surging across the open plain.
Just as the War Department had predicted after last year's ultimatum, the enemy had timed their invasion to the autumn harvest.
The plan was already in place. Countless soldiers stood ready at Bongpyeong and Bonghwa.
"Mwahaha! Boys! The guests have arrived! Get ready to receive them!"
"Sir, yes sir!"
Thunder of boots.
Reinforcements would keep streaming up onto the walls, but for now, the ten thousand or so men stationed here were all they had. They had to hold the line by any means necessary until relief arrived. And yet the commander felt something like joy. How long had he waited for this moment? Not just him—all of them.
This was the hour of vengeance for the insult.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Crates piled up along the base of the wall, row upon row. Inside each one lay the auxiliary devices for the composite crossbows. They would be fighting a far larger force with a far smaller one, so they had stockpiled the devices pre-loaded with bolts in advance.
There would be no time to reload.
The enemy stretched black and endless all the way to the horizon—how many soldiers had they mobilized? Yet while most carried weapons, the majority wore only leather armor. Only the elite ranks formed up in the rear looked properly armored. So the men at the front were expendable, were they?
When the Han formation drew close, it began to shift.
"They're bringing up their siege engines!"
The soldiers' advance slowed as battering rams, siege towers, and catapults trundled forward through the ranks. Short on draft animals, apparently—the machines were being pushed by hand. Only the flat ground made it possible.
"Good! Get our own ready!"
Along Daehan's walls, the great ballistae were being prepared. Not the old models that hurled logs—these were the improved versions.
Testing had shown that while logs worked well enough, smaller projectiles hit just as hard, and so the ammunition had steadily shrunk into what it was today.
Creeeak, creeeak.
Massive ballistae were being positioned atop the wall as well. Early models had thrown whole logs; the current ones fired something far smaller.
Four ja in length alone, they launched bolts of three to seven geun a distance of two to four jang.
And considering they sat atop Daehan's towering ramparts, the range and destructive power would only multiply.
Grind. Clunk. Grind. Clunk.
"You lazy dogs! Did you skip breakfast?! Put your backs into it!"
"Sir!"
Clunk.
"Loaded and ready!"
"They're still awfully far off. Let's go ahead and raise a stink!"
"Hahaha! Yes, sir!"
The soldiers were merrily scooping filth into leather pouches. This was no joke. Against enemies armed with such overwhelming range, it was entirely possible—and entirely worthwhile.
True, the trajectory could reach that far, but the distance was so extreme that accuracy couldn't be guaranteed.
"Careful now! Some of you sloshed it everywhere! Get it up in the air before the smell gives us away!"
"Sir!"
BOOM. KABOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
From the twenty-odd great ballistae lined along the wall, leather pouches came sailing out in waves—everything from ancient, festering deposits scooped from the latrines below to steaming-fresh offerings. The enemy lines might well be suffering a full-blown plague of dysentery before long.
"Whoa? How far is that stuff going?"
"Er... isn't it flying a bit too far?"
When a ballista built to hurl projectiles of dozens of kilos was loaded with manure instead, overshooting the range was only natural.
It was arguably lucky that the pouches hadn't burst short of the lines.
The filth rained down deep into the rear, and whether it had struck a commander or not, chaos erupted through the enemy formation. The stench still clung stubbornly to the walls on Daehan's side; heaven only knew what it was like over there.
"Now let's give them the real thing!"
"Yes, sir!"
BOOM. KABOOM. BOOM.
The great ballistae began launching bolts of several dozen kilos apiece. However carefully the gunners aimed, the range was simply too great—the vast majority sailed wide.
But when something did connect, catapults and siege towers alike went splintering into the air.
Conversely, a stray bolt ricocheting off the ground and cartwheeling into the infantry trailing far behind could turn into a catastrophic pileup.
Through his telescope, the commander watched bodies burst apart. Most died instantly.
"And yet there's still so many of them?"
"Damn bastards. They think they'll win by numbers alone?"
"One hundred enemies for every one of ours, and we'd still come out ahead, wouldn't we?"
Truly an unfathomable mass of humanity.
The same scene was unfolding at three points along the frontier: Bongpyeong itself, the stretch between Bongpyeong and Bonghwa, and the eastern border where merchants had once passed through the old autonomous territory.
Even so, all of it fell within the War Department's predictions. Supplies had been stockpiled and armies garrisoned at Bongpyeong and Bonghwa long in advance.
And a port had been built between Bonghwa and Gunpo, from which the stationed soldiers would pivot east.
The ballistae fired on and on, pounding the enemy in a one-sided barrage—but the sea of bodies didn't seem to shrink in the slightest.
"There are a hell of a lot of them. We can start loosing arrows now, can't we?"
The archers had already tested their bows from the wall in advance, confirming their reach. That was the advantage of high ground—both the arrows' range and their killing power stretched considerably.
"Yes, sir. Shall we begin?"
"What's to hesitate about?"
The enemy occasionally lofted arrows of their own to test the distance, but only about half of them even made it to the wall.
High ground or no, the gap between the two sides' bow ranges was clearly enormous.
"Ready!"
Clunk. Ratchet.
Of the ten thousand men waiting atop the wall, some five thousand had bows nocked, each man with a dozen or more auxiliary devices laid out before him.
"Loose!"
Vvvvmmm—!
"Keep shooting!"
Chunk-snap. Chunk-snap.
With so many enemies crowding the field beyond, aiming was almost beside the point—arrow after arrow poured out with terrifying momentum. Ten shots in under a minute.
Having never seen Daehan's bows before, the enemy hadn't even thought to raise their shields. They simply took it, wave after crushing wave.
"General! They're loosing enormous arrows—our siege engines are shattering left and right!"
Did they simply not care that men were dying?
"That blasted stench won't clear. Take the spare materials and run them up for assembly on-site—and tell them to keep pushing! We still have plenty of men left, don't we?!"
No matter how vast their armies, the Han leadership treated human life with staggering, almost incomprehensible callousness.
"AAAGH!"
"GAAAH!"
"HELP ME!"
The screams of the soldiers in the front ranks rose at an alarming rate.
Ratatatatatat—!
The sound was like beans crackling in a hot pan—and with it came a downpour of arrows.
"How are their arrows reaching THIS far?!"
Even the general commanding the front lines could only gape.
"Raise your shields, NOW! Don't just stand there taking it!"
The general frantically pulled the shield lashed to his horse and hefted it overhead. The arrows came in such volume that men were dropping in heaps.
THUNK.
"...Ghk."
He'd raised his shield in time—but fate was cruel, or the shot simply too powerful. An arrow punched straight through the shield and buried itself in his forehead. The general crumpled to the earth.
"AAAGH!"
"HELP ME!"
"The shields aren't stopping them!"
Across the open plain, the death-screams rose into one unbroken wail.