What Even Is Han? (3)
With fresh troops pouring into the Great Wall, the siege settled into an uneasy lull. If ten thousand men hadn't been enough to break through, then with the main army of a hundred thousand joining the fray, Han could throw in ten million and Daehan would still hold the line.
"We've stopped the enemy assault for now."
"Our casualties?"
"They say the corpses outside the walls will number in the hundreds of thousands."
"I'm not asking about them. What about our own?"
However many died over there, that was the enemy's problem. He couldn't have cared less. What mattered was his own people...
"The soldiers held in reserve at the start took the heaviest losses. Around ten thousand casualties in all, three thousand of them dead."
"Whew... so even with all that preparation, it comes to this."
Apparently even overwhelming weaponry couldn't prevent losses entirely.
"Our analysis suggests that a larger initial response force would have reduced the toll."
"And how do you plan to manage that?"
"Build the wall towers larger and double the standing garrison, and they estimate casualties would fall to less than half."
Right. However thoroughly you dissect someone else's war, it's only half the lesson. Some things you have to pay for in blood to truly learn.
"We'll need more flat ground, then."
"Yes. So we intend to recruit more soldiers."
Even the current figure of one and a half percent felt like a lot to him — how many more did they intend to take?
"There has to be a sustainable ceiling for what the nation can support. Check it carefully and grow the army accordingly."
"Understood. With our current productivity and administration, we could sustain up to twenty percent."
Ha... something in that sentence sounded very wrong.
"That's excluding the people who farm and run the administration, right? And the artisans — they stay out of it too."
"Women handle administration even better than men, and they're perfectly capable of farm work as well?"
"Huh?"
Isn't farming hard labor?
"They only complain because their skin burns. Women's strength is more than enough for farming, I assure you."
"Women are that strong?"
"Please don't measure everyone by your own standards, Haneul-nim."
Oof. That one hit home. The girls were really that strong?
"Besides, what strength does farming even require? Horses and oxen do the plowing, and animals do the potato harvesting too."
Huh. I suppose if you turn the soil deep enough, the potatoes just break free, and you pick up the intact ones and leave the rest. Were there really that many horses and oxen around?
"And with a war on, the women will understand."
"That's... good to hear."
"Quite a few of them want to take up swords and march to the battlefield themselves."
If Greece had Sparta, then the East had Daehan. He'd briefly forgotten. With the men already getting slapped around at the slightest misstep, worrying about the women had been a waste of breath.
"Then next — how are the support units coming along?"
"Well. We're organizing them at one quarter to one half the size of the combat formations."
If they were permitted to loot supplies locally, the numbers could be far smaller, but considering the state of local food, it was better to bring their own. How miserable would it be to fight on an empty stomach? It would wreck morale for no good reason.
"Let's raise the proportion of soldiers while we're at it."
"Yes. At the very least, the garrison stationed along the Great Wall should be increased."
"We'll need more of them on the plains than in the mountains."
Positions built along the mountains were genuinely hard to invade. By the time you climbed up, you were already exhausted. And try rolling a boulder down on top of you — utter catastrophe.
"In exchange, clear-cut the mountain forests and plant plenty of grass so the slopes don't collapse."
"Understood."
Besides, if it came to it, they could set the grass alight. The enemy might start fires of their own, but all Daehan would have to do is raise smoke to cover themselves. Honestly, since the terrain favored Daehan anyway, a nice carpet of grass would work out nicely.
"We also intend to establish research facilities focused on military affairs."
"Research?"
"Yes. Studying tactics is all well and good, but having used the weapons in the field, we've found shortcomings that need improvement."
Well. So it was basically an expansion of the War Ministry.
"Fine. Handle that however you see fit."
"What should we do with the battle casualties?"
"Notify their families first, then cremate the bodies and keep the remains in urns."
Daehan's funeral culture was overwhelmingly cremation — the wish that the soul be set free.
"And I want a memorial park built."
"A park?"
"We'll raise stone monuments honoring their sacrifice, and the nation will maintain the remains."
Something like a national cemetery, really. Generations from now, people should be able to look up which son of which family died where, and how.
"If any family wishes to hold their own rites, just record the name."
"Yes, understood."
"We'll do it all at once when the war ends. The records must be thorough."
"Yes."
It would become a mark upon history — one that would endure a thousand years, and a thousand years after that.
Here, off the coast of Sinsi.
So many ships floated on the water that the eye could not take them all in.
If you were struck, you struck back. That was all there was to it.
Some four hundred Orca-class midsize warships — not bound for a distant voyage, so they were packed to the rails with men and weapons. A full three hundred soldiers per vessel, and including the follow-up waves, an expeditionary force of two hundred thousand was setting out.
"How many of them will come home?"
"This is their proud campaign. Do not grieve, I beg you."
"They won't back off on their own, will they?"
Ever since Han's vanguard had stalled against the walls, more and more soldiers kept flowing in as reinforcements. Apparently they had no intention of ending things like this.
"So they mean to see it through to the bitter end?"
"Their confidence has swelled since they conquered the Xiongnu and then the southern lands in succession."
"About the only place left for them to go is past the horizon..."
The fleet departing today would sail for a week, land on the central plains of Han, and begin turning them into a wasteland.
"This is something we choose to do."
"Then why does it make me feel like this?"
"We know how dearly you cherish us. So please, allow us to cherish you in return."
Grieving changed nothing. This was a war the other side had walked into their hands. No matter how Daehan stopped, Han would not.
Before them stood an enormous, magnificently decorated drum.
The moment it sounded, they would begin their voyage. Please — let every last one of them come home safe.
「KUUUUNG— KUUUUNG— KUUUUNG—」
The great drum thundered just three times, each boom trailing off in an echo like a child's cry.
「KUNG. KWANG. KUNG. KWANG.」
Answering it, the drums of the distant ships rang out across the water. Spreading their sails, they began filing out of the bay, starting with the vessels farthest from shore.
A week later, on the eastern coast of Han.
"Smoke sighted in the distance!"
The smoke was a signal from the Intelligence Bureau troops who had set out ahead to secure the landing zone.
"Prepare to land in the designated order!"
The flat-bottomed transports that had joined the fleet midway began moving to the front. If the sharp-bottomed warships and transports sailed straight for the shallows, they'd run aground in no time. It would be the flat-bottomers ferrying cargo and men back and forth — building a proper port wasn't worth the expense.
A full week on the landing alone. Once the tide went out, even landing became difficult — no one could haul their gear across the exposed mudflats on foot.
"The landing is taking longer than I expected..."
"Should we not build a road, even if not a full harbor?"
The single greatest problem right now was that the mudflats had the ships stuck — unable to come or go.
"Better we work fast ourselves than press the locals into labor, don't you think?"
"Naturally."
The landing force at the head of the column hurriedly began hauling in every scrap of dirt and stone in the vicinity. They only needed to cover the mud enough that feet wouldn't sink.
When the tide came in, ships ferried men and cargo; when it went out, the landing continued on foot across the flats. Nearly a month had already passed since they first came ashore.
"Why are they so quiet?"
"Perhaps they're massing their troops?"
"For how long, exactly..."
"Might I suggest we seize a nearby city in the meantime?"
No matter how he turned it over, even a flimsy walled city beat meeting the enemy in open plains.
"Was there one nearby?"
"Half a day's march brings us to one."
"Half a day, then. Fine, let's go. It has to beat standing on this bare ground, at least."
Leaving behind men to receive supplies and support the landing, an army of one hundred twenty thousand broke camp and began to march.
Mostly infantry, with a handful of cavalry — scouts and couriers, by and large.
As the sun sank, a massive city wall rose into view before the soldiers' eyes.
An earthen wall, granted, but staggeringly tall — a height that made the thought of scaling it by ladder feel hopeless.
"Establish a perimeter. We begin the assault tomorrow!"
"Yes, sir!"
As the adjutants filed out of the barracks, the commander sat wrestling with how to take the city.
"Those ladders look hopeless. How are we supposed to get over that..."
Deep into his brooding, in the dead of night—
「 creeeak 」
"Coast is clear. Move, quickly!"
A hidden emergency gate, built into one side of the wall in secret, swung open, and a crowd of people slipped out burdened with bundles, heading west.
"A messenger has arrived, sir!"
"Hm?"
The next morning, the commander — who had sharpened his resolve without any clever plan in hand — found himself utterly dumbfounded. A messenger, from the heart of the enemy city?
"A messenger has come from the city!"
"Hm? Why?"
"They wish to surrender."
"Well, what in the—"
Was there any situation more absurd? They'd simply walked up, slept one night, and woken up owning a city.
"It appears the city lord and every noble in the place fled during the night."
"What is even happening?"
"So the people sent a messenger as their representatives, begging only that their lives be spared."
"Heh heh..."
He'd been bracing for a brutal siege, and instead the expeditionary force had taken a city without a scratch. Stepping inside, the words of the man presented as a local notable were a sight to behold.
"This is a vassal state. For fear of rebellion, we're permitted to train only a token garrison — and even those fled with the city lord last night."
So the coast wasn't even considered frontier?
How could they not imagine someone invading by sea, and leave themselves with no defenses whatsoever?
The Daehan army did not rashly plunge deeper. It took the cities one by one — exactly as Haneul had long emphasized. The reason a small nation struggles to defeat a great one: the point of diminishing returns. They were advancing with that endpoint ever in mind.
Though with Daehan this close at hand, who knew how that calculus would hold?
"Is that the one?"
"Yes. It sits on a lakeshore, so waiting for the water to recede won't be an option, I fear."
"Then let's take it methodically."
"Yes, sir!"
Even as Daehan's army carved its way across the Chinese heartland, Han found itself in dire straits of its own making.
It had seized the Great Wall quickly — then, obsessed with pressing the offensive, sent far too many soldiers over it. Now it couldn't even pull part of that force back to hold the rear.
Determined to stand against Daehan, it had committed an immense army to the Wall. And if it withdrew now, everyone knew Daehan's forces would simply push through in their wake — which meant Han was no longer fighting a siege at all, but a defensive war.
Matched against Daehan's endlessly swelling numbers, Han had no choice but to keep shipping men to the front, over and over.
「CRASH!」
"What in the world is going on!"
"We beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty."
"How can a nation so small have this many people!"
Han knew precious little about Daehan. On the map spread before the Son of Heaven, Daehan was painted as a pitifully small country.
Word had passed from mouth to mouth until, somewhere along the way, they'd come to think of it as a kingdom on the scale of Joseon.
"What of the eastern lands of the continent, then!"
"We beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty."
"Unable to hold back a few hundred thousand, you lose cities — what humiliation is this! Recruit more soldiers!"
"We haven't the men to spare even for the northern front, Your Majesty..."
After all, even with equal numbers committed, Han's dead mounted overwhelmingly faster. It was pouring water into a bottomless jar.
"Your Majesty... forgive my boldness, but might we not seek peace?"
"What did you say!"
「CRASH—」
At last, the emperor flipped the table before him entirely.
「tatatatatak」
And into the hall rushed a single figure. A courier, by the look of him — he thrust a leather canister into the hands of the court official at the door.
"Gah!"
The startled official hurried into the throne room with it.
"Your Majesty! A courier has arrived — they report that Huai'an has fallen!"
"What did you say!"
Huai'an — was that not a great city? Towering walls, teeming with people. And it had fallen?