Chapter 187
Chapter 187
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 187
Chapter Title: The Black Tea War (2)
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Even Kim Unhaeng, a man from the future, wouldn't know the name Robert Clive offhand.
His other nicknames—"Lord Vulture" or "The Madras Tyrant"—might make someone scoff and wonder if they came from some fantasy novel's villain.
But the "Victor of the Battle of Plassey" would give even Kim Unhaeng pause. If he'd heard of him, that meant the man was important.
Returning to India right after snatching a seat in the House of Commons three years ahead of schedule, Robert Clive extended a hand to James Flint.
"It's our first time meeting in person, even though we're with the same company. I've heard tales of your exploits in China."
"They're nothing compared to yours, Member of Parliament."
Indeed, they were paltry. James Flint, interpreter for the East India Company, owned no vast territories in India like Clive, and had lost what little influence he had before being driven out.
Of course, Clive wasn't rude enough to point that out.
Besides, Clive had something to gain from Flint.
"If this expedition succeeds, black tea trade will resume. Your role as interpreter won't be a small one then. With proper compensation, of course."
"I understand. Leave it to me."
To the British, black tea wasn't just another trade good.
The fact that American independence began over tea meant it was that vital to British government revenue.
Losing tea would make holding colonies seized from France or Spain untenable. For Britain, which had squandered fortunes on war, this expedition stemmed more from desperation than greed.
Beyond economics, the tea had to be reclaimed.
Brits couldn't live without it anymore. Without exaggeration, it was half their national soul.
And the other half? Opium, naturally.
Bengal opium was already a long-established specialty. If they could force China to submit and sign a "fair treaty," no more tiptoeing around.
Robert Clive and Britain held Bengal's governorship, won at Plassey.
Produce massive opium, pay with silver instead. From now on, the Chinese would be dying to hand over their tea.
Of course, James Flint knew this too. He was the one who'd proposed the plan's framework to Clive.
But at this moment, Flint felt a twinge of doubt.
"Still, isn't ten thousand men a bit short? You can't judge Chinese forces by their visible numbers. They're like extensions of the absolute monarch. All four hundred million subjects could become an army. It's different from India."
Clive chuckled amusedly.
"At Plassey, the enemy outnumbered us ten to one. Numbers aren't everything in war."
Flint wasn't mistaken. Clive wasn't bragging about his tactical prowess. He had no formal military training anyway.
The decisive factor at Plassey wasn't cannons or bayonets—it was money. The enemy commander, Bengal's deputy governor Mir Jafar, betrayed his own side for a massive bribe.
"You don't plan to bribe Chinese officials, do you?"
"Haha, that's impossible. History gets in the way."
Kim Unhaeng would have applauded. Clive lowered his voice.
"The point is, do we really need a war of extermination that only barbarians would enjoy? That's not our goal."
He glanced toward the fleet, just like Flint had earlier. The implication was clear.
"What happened to Frederick, mad for war? Or the homeland that backed him? All a waste of money in the end. We just need to make the emperor realize negotiating with 'us' beats fighting."
James Flint noted Clive hadn't said "us" to mean the East India Company or British government. He gazed east with a slightly different look.
It was the gaze Europeans cast not at China, but at another Eastern land more familiar to them.
The Russian Far East expedition, racing at top speed using tangled rivers and fine horses, had grown accustomed to rickety rowboats by now.
Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov, advisory professor at Moscow University, carefully examined the depth sounder the soldiers had hauled up.
As expected, the resin coating the lead weight bore samples of the riverbed soil. The geologist in Lomonosov meticulously recorded the depth, soil, and gravel types.
Basil Ivanovich Levashev, Guard Major leading the Cossack unit this time, muttered,
"Nothing particularly unusual."
"It can't be helped. Even the Amur River isn't all that different from Siberia's others. For instance, the degree of riverbed erosion..."
"No, I mean the Chinese army."
Recalling the true purpose of this "survey," Lomonosov flushed slightly embarrassed.
"R-right. Why no interference at all?"
"We haven't crossed the border yet, but more than that, they seem 'distracted elsewhere.'"
"Count Alexander Borisovich's main force?"
Major Levashev didn't chide "Colonel" Lomonosov for blurting military secrets.
No one was around to hear anyway. The count was Russia's army commander and a trusted confidant from the empress's youth—Elizabeth had high hopes for this expedition.
But separately, Lomonosov's hypothesis lacked credibility.
The news of Russia's 100,000 invading China's northwest Kazakh region, amid the Amursana rebellion's security vacuum, likely hadn't reached this far east yet.
Qing forces might crush Dzungars or their allies there, but they weren't exercising real administration.
Russians could penetrate deep before any real response. Local ignorance made influence here impossible.
Major Levashev offered another view.
"More likely the war with Japan to the east. Ships south from here reach Japan geographically."
Levashev's guess, ignorant of details, but Japan was indeed stalled.
Qing troops, expected to probe Satsuma and withdraw, had brutally banned all life there, finally forcing the shogunate to act.
Responses to secret negotiations? Only envoys' heads. After exterminating Satsuma, dread of Kyushu—then all Saikoku—gripped Japan.
Satsuma's enmities muted complaints, but armies gathered. Largest mobilization since Bunroku.
The Shimazu, preparing final defense at Kagoshima Castle, were saved.
Mongol stamina couldn't defy expedition fatigue; the front stalled.
But Japan's war hardly affected Manchuria.
Chinese soldiers weren't sailing east to Japan via the Sea of Okhotsk, as Levashev thought.
The truer answer came from non-soldier Lomonosov.
He glanced at a crate of red ginseng aboard.
Trading with border smugglers for supplies, it caught his eye.
"Trade here's thriving without suspicious vibes. This is unmistakably Joseon-processed ginseng. Aren't they just slacking?"
If Brits craved red tea, Russians sought red ginseng. Not for red preference (white suited better), but unbeatable tribute for the empress.
Levashev shook his head.
"Merchants trade even in war. Hard to think Chinese, fighting on two fronts at least, are lax. Better stay vigilant."
Lomonosov conceded without argument.
No genius scientist could imagine Joseon troops disguised as wildlife smugglers neutralizing Qing hunts (training), or salary-starved Manchu bannermen turning to Joseon trade amid wars.
Instead, Lomonosov picked up a red ginseng root.
"Then we watch for now. Fine by me. I've wanted to study this 'red ginseng' slowly. American vs. Chinese—or Joseon?—ginseng. Consensus is differences stem from processing, not seeds. His Majesty's recovery bolsters that theory."
"Good, but remember: in emergency, we dash south toward Joseon."
"Noted."
This report was tough to edit too.
As Royal Secretary, I'd trimmed for king's convenience and my minor tasks, but within national survival bounds.
A nation must exist to claim bonuses or ascend to Chief State Councillor.
So my honest summary of the two priests' testimony:
<Britain and Russia invade China. These monkey-brained Westerners will naturally be crushed by humanity's masters, but before we become another 'Satsuma' or 'Dzungar' and our king a 'Gwanghaegun,' we must firm our stance. Passing this intel to Qing now earns the emperor's trust cheaply, without troops or supplies.>
But that treacherous Chae Je-gong clearly didn't buy it.
As Left Junior Secretary overseeing military, he'd seen the memorial first and asked suspiciously,
"Odd they were caught by chance. Did you trick two esteemed Qing monk-scholars?"
"Why would I? Time's short—send it up."
"That's why: using them to claim absurd Western plots to chase out Byakgi forces or Englishmen? Better hold this a few days before..."
"Listen, how many years have we known each other? Do I seem the scheming type?"
Chae Je-gong stared silently. I yelled right before the throne room.
"You aiming to emulate Zhao Gao of Qin, hiding the corpse with a fish cart? Who else dares meddle in vital state affairs but me, the drillmaster?"
"I-I'm Left Junior Secretary. When Chief Royal Secretary Chunsik served, inspecting documents strictly was our duty..."
"Quiet!"
Chae Je-gong grumbled off with the memorial. I glared, panting.
I understood Yue Fei's frustration battling corrupt Song court. Once this wrapped, I'd make Chae taste exile.
Yi Ik's odd parachute as Right Bin Guest (crown prince tutor) irked too. South faction seemed bent on ruin. What charge?
After jailing the priests in royal guardhouse and resting home, the king summoned me—with Chae Je-gong, ominously.
He skimmed my memorial and papers, then decreed simply,
"Do not send to our protectorate Qing."
Biting back "What? Sane?," I glared killing intent at Chae.
He ducked eyes deliberately. Man, really feeling not Chief Secretary.
He'd surely communicated with Byakgi troops using priests in that time.
Netherlands under Spain—Habsburg broadly. Can't rally herds, but cozy with old suzerain now.
Escaped priests wouldn't want Joseon-Qing alliance. Exaggerated European might. Your Highness, don't fall for it.
But the king gave irrefutable excuse.
"Just two Westerners' words. How trust fully? Spreading lies risks imperial wrath—foolish. Best abstain thrice."
He preached caution and thrift only for unwanted tasks.
"Drillmaster, speak of this nowhere. Not even Border Defense Council. But for planned logging, I'll aid greatly. Use all Hamgyong timber; build stout warships for unrest."
Think bribing with my ship wood? Nation's resource, people's anyway.
King's ploy obvious: exploit chance for Qing weakness.
No, then what? Two arrows fell an elephant barehanded? No steamships or machine guns yet—future man's word. Listen.
But he played typical dim king's ear-in-one-out-the-other to my desperate plea.
Pretended attentive, but years watching pierced it.
Then, as if recalling—to silence me surely—he pulled a book.
"My draft of <<Muye Sinbo>>, blending old and new. Not yet officially endorsed. Drill Inspectorate trains troops, as named—so teach frontline soldiers first, then spread to other garrisons and mutual defense troops. Don't disappoint."
Meaning: get out and work. I swallowed bloody tears.
Worst timing.
If Qing invades over this, army fights.
Even if my plan unused, Qing suspects and demands troops again—army goes (why proactive intel to Qing, to owe us).
Who goes?
Me.
Total war first case, naturally. Second, Joseon can't supply large forces far—elite detachment, so Drill Inspectorate.
I tossed the Muye Sinbo—or whatever— unread to mid- and low-rank officers.
Bound to be king's crown prince-era chuunibyou martial arts. No time for trivia.
Only clean resignation now: three-year mourning. But father's youthened via genuines.
Resignation rejected; must get fired.
Like Yi Hwang, Yi I, Song Si-yeol—my rep high among scholars; hard not recall (civil post). Step back now.
Kim Unhaeng couldn't know the Muye Sinbo was over twice history's original thickness.
Flipping it would've revealed unhistorical contents, but he never did.
Thus, unchanged, it spread via mid- and low-rank officers.
Frontline troops forming European-style lines and firing matchlocks proliferated. Rumors swirled of Byakgi or British spotted near front.
Drill Inspectorate's erotic books and Kim's backing ensured "proper" Honam rice transport profits. Allowed first post-war training focus. Songpa's famed cabbage stalls emptied.
And Kim Unhaeng never showed.
Irked, Park Mun-su petitioned "Drillmaster neglects duties," but Yi Hwon rebuffed gruffly.
"A crane silent three years startles all with one cry[一鳴驚人, <<Records of the Grand Historian>>]. I trust Kim Unhaeng's talent—speak no more."
Instead, Yi Hwon acted unhindered by Kim.
Westerners arrive soonest this winter.
No Dutch-scale output of 400 fluyt ships yearly, but many builders now; naval buildup viable hastily.
Post-Ryukyu, many Liberation Squadrons rushed new warships. Yi Hwon bent laws for Hamgyong logs.
Chundangdae silent. Not Kim's absence, just nothing to say.
No overt declaration, but clear intent for "that project." Opposition lacked grounds or will, execution aside.
'Opium War' and prize differed, but 'Black Tea War' essence loomed steadily.