The Donghwa Economy (4)
“...and thereby suppress the bandit hordes while saving Our subjects.”
The short speech came to an end. Now all that remained was to lead these men into the field and crush the bandits.
“The entire army, advance.”
The gates slowly creaked open. As they did, the regular troops took the lead, with the mercenaries following close behind. As we marched out, the people lining the streets cheered us on. Some even tossed flowers to bless our campaign.
“Long live His Imperial Majesty!”
“Savior of the people!”
“With His Majesty, the realm is safe!”
I raised a hand in thanks to the cries of the crowd. Watching this, Angelos sidled up beside me and spoke in a tone laced with mischief.
“Your Majesty’s popularity is piercing the heavens.”
“You’d do well to cut the jesting, Lord Angelos.”
“I’m merely stating the facts.”
Angelos flashed a sly grin. Not wanting to get drawn into his games, I changed the subject.
“More importantly, the donghwa for the mercenaries—have you prepared it in advance?”
“As instructed before the operation, we’ve readied the payment. Though...”
“Though?”
Angelos wore a playful expression. I realized too late that he was up to his tricks again.
“In my humble opinion, preparing payment before the suppression is even complete seems premature.”
“...As I’ve said before, this is...!”
“I know. Military training under the guise of bandit suppression.”
As Angelos said, the bandit hunts were an extension of military drills. Warfare was my forte, and I had no intention of letting soldiers—a group that consumed without producing—sit idle. One way to boost combat power was to increase numbers, but training offered another path. Through these exercises, I was honing their edge.
But as in the modern era, barracks training alone bred complacency. That was why I’d contrived these field exercises under the pretext of bandit hunts.
“Beyond the drills, it secures public order, circulates currency, and spurs spending. Frequent bandit sweeps might be worthwhile.”
Crushing bandits improved safety. That freed merchants to travel, boosting trade and spreading coin far and wide. And paying the mercenaries meant they’d spend locally—reason enough to skip the training.
“You know all this, so why belabor the point?”
“Separate from the strategy, I wanted to highlight how the people offer you their unwavering support, as you saw earlier.”
I knew better security would win the people’s favor. But their enthusiasm exceeded expectations, and there was a reason for it.
“No one dreamed the nobles—those puppets of the powerful warlords in Optimatoi—would dare invade.”
The nobles, who’d schemed around Constantine VIII in the capital, had suddenly mustered troops and marched on Optimatoi. As one of the empire’s first five themes, it had long been ruled by traditional military clans, drawing many to live there. Then the nobles struck like lightning, claiming to quash rebels. Terrified, the people fled east to escape the chaos.
Refugees uprooted by noble depredations. Beyond Optimatoi, lawlessness reigned, bandits swarming day and night. They arrived exhausted in strange lands, where conditions were no better and welcome thin. Drifters, all of them. Their wanderings had led them here to Trapezunta.
“So the people fled to what they saw as their final stronghold: Trapezunta.”
“Final stronghold? That’s an exaggeration.”
“It’s not. Beyond us lies Muslim territory.”
I couldn’t deny Angelos’s words. Past our position stretched the domains of Islam. As I’d mentioned before, the East Romans saw Rome as the world’s heart—much like China’s Middle Kingdom ideology, but with a key difference: religion. They feared the world beyond Christendom at a primal level.
To a modern mind, it might seem baffling. In the Middle Ages, the Church wasn’t mere faith; it governed law, conduct, morals—every facet of life. It mediated disputes, hosted rites and festivals, collected taxes, enforced customs. From baptism at birth to funeral rites sending souls to God, it cradled every life from cradle to grave. Viewed thus, their dread of venturing beyond the Christian sphere made sense.
That was why calling Trapezunta-Lazica—the empire’s eastern frontier—the last bastion wasn’t hyperbole.
“Your Majesty welcomed the refugees to this final refuge, granting them land to settle.”
Angelos’s praise made my skin crawl. I raised a hand to stop him, but he pressed on.
“You circulated donghwa so they could eat and survive, and through regular bandit sweeps, secured the peace so they could live without fear.”
“Lazica’s vast, with room to spare.”
Lazica, seized in the Georgian wars, was enormous. Even after granting land to Angelos, Ioannis, and the Turks, plenty remained. Leaving it fallow would’ve been a loss for its lord. Accepting refugee labor for settlement was pragmatic—economics over morality.
“I hear you funded aid from your own purse. My ears must’ve deceived me.”
“...I told Alberto to handle it discreetly.”
No policy alone normalizes lives shattered by war. Real aid was needed, so I’d quietly funneled guild profits and Uranos family funds. I’d ordered Alberto to keep it under wraps, yet Angelos had sniffed it out.
“Lord Alberto bears no blame. I merely followed.”
Angelos beamed, his playful nature unchanged. By then, we’d reached a nearby village. The commotion suggested bandits were looting.
“Subdue the bandits. Kill those who resist; capture those who surrender.”
At my command, the mercenaries surged forward. The more they caught, the greater their pay—motivation enough.
* * *
“Thank you. Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The village chief bowed repeatedly in gratitude, the crowd behind him echoing thanks. I raised a hand to quiet them and asked,
“How great was the damage from the bandits?”
“A few homes, livestock, and...”
His eyes darted greedily. Sensing I’d cover losses, he aimed to pad them. Not all commoners were saints, nor was there reason to fault them. I’d prepared for such opportunism.
“We’ll restore your losses as described.”
“Th-thank you! Endless thanks, Your Majesty! Your grace is as vast as the—”
“But this place is perilous. Relocate to Lazica, and we’ll provide the aid as promised.”
“R-relocate, sire?”
The chief’s eyes spun. He’d hoped to cling to local gains, not face mass exodus.
“Indeed. Protecting you here is difficult. Moving is wisest.”
Framed as benevolence for their sake. In truth, it scattered them into settled villages, diluting such schemes.
“B-but... this is our home. We can’t abandon it.”
“Staying makes aid hard. If you truly cherish your home, remain by all means.”
“Thank you. Might I humbly ask if you’ll station troops to guard us?”
The black-hearted chief’s ploy. Angelos bristled to intervene, but I waved him off.
“No. I won’t sacrifice imperial soldiers to bandit-infested wilds.”
“Th-then we...”
I stood, smiling down at them.
“It’s your choice, is it not?”
As I turned to leave, the chief lunged to grab me, but the Varangian Guard blocked him.
“Stand back.”
“Obstruct not His Majesty’s path.”
I remounted. Angelos asked,
“We saved the village—will you truly abandon them?”
“Their choice. If bandits return and disrupt order, we’ll act then.”
Luckily, this remote hamlet posed no trade threat. As long as bandits shunned the routes, it mattered little.
“Our work here is done.”
Angelos nodded. Having witnessed their ingratitude firsthand, he held his tongue.
“All hands, return to Trapezunta.”
The troops turned back. Some villagers trailed the column.
“I’ll not turn away those who follow.”
My call swelled the ranks. In the end, only the grasping chief and his few allies remained.