Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 7: Takurai

To make a good impression on the Superintendent of Education, Ou Yang rose exceptionally early the next day and took the opportunity to read for a while. Due to the limitations of the era, this country’s scientific standards were roughly equivalent to those of Earth in the late 18th century. As for the humanities—perhaps due to historical legacy—exams here primarily focused on the eight-legged essay, with the remaining scope devoted to poetry and literary composition. In future examinations—whether for the Juren or Jinshi degrees—Ou Yang was confident he could score high on the science exams, but he was ninety-nine percent certain he would stumble on the humanities. As for physical education, the tests essentially assessed strength and marksmanship; being young and strong, he was at no disadvantage compared to the standards set for scholars. Marksmanship now primarily focused on firearms, though shooting a bow was still an option. Ou Yang felt he could guarantee good results in these two subjects; it was only in the humanities that he would inevitably need the bonus points from his border service to have any chance of passing. The academic supervisor was somewhat puzzled as to why Ou Yang had declined his offer of goodwill the previous night. Seeing Ou Yang get up early to study, however, he felt somewhat reassured. This could only mean that Ou Yang himself did not view the Western Regions as his future; after all, he was still young, and if he passed the Jinshi examination, he would likely be transferred elsewhere in the future. Ou Yang had breakfast with Murong Ming, then took his leave. He still had his own duties to attend to. Just before he left, Murong Ming presented him with a set of books as a gift—a sort of investment, so to speak. Murong Ming’s steward escorted Ou Yang to the entrance of the grain shop, which was actually run by the School Supervisor’s family. Ou Yang glanced at the price list and noticed that, apart from the lowest-grade third-class mixed grains—whose prices were fixed by the state—the prices of all other grades of grain were exceptionally high; even the slightly better second-class mixed grains cost 50 fen per jin. The steward explained to Ou Yang that crop yields in the Western Regions were very poor; even after collecting the annual land tax, the local government still did not have enough to meet its needs. Since there were no railroads for transporting grain from East of the Ridge, the round-trip costs were staggering. Even if the grain was successfully transported, most of it had to be used to feed the soldiers. Therefore, aside from third-grade mixed grains—for which the Empire had set a fixed price out of sheer necessity—the prices of all other grains were exorbitant, making it difficult for ordinary citizens or citizens who were not wealthy to afford good-quality grain. Ou Yang simply settled on 1,000 jin of third-grade mixed grains. Although citizens faced no restrictions on purchasing grain, they still had to rely on the grain shops having stock available. The fact that the school superintendent’s family’s grain shop provided grain on demand was, in a sense, a small act of kindness. Ou Yang summoned Heheli and the others, instructing them to load the grain onto the carts. He then turned to seek out the local garrison company commander. This was Ou Yang’s immediate superior; he had already reported his arrival to the commander, but since he was going hunting, it was still necessary to inform him. Otherwise, if an emergency arose and the commander summoned the garrison troops while he was absent, the consequences would not be something that could be brushed off with a mere reprimand. He could even face dismissal or demotion. Commander Huang was somewhat surprised that this scholar would go hunting on his very first visit. However, this was also a good thing for him; if they captured new slaves, it could help fill the gaps in his ranks. The eight military units under his command were all in newly established villages, none of which had reached the standard population of one hundred households. Having more able-bodied men would be beneficial for his future performance evaluations. Moreover, as a military man, he placed great value on the physically strong Di Yi tribesmen under his command, viewing them as the foundation for earning his merits. He was also aware that these men were not particularly skilled at farming; their daily lives were extremely hardscrabble, and they all looked forward to hunting expeditions as a chance to earn some extra benefits. But since the unit leaders were the ones in charge on the ground, if they were unwilling to go hunting, he had no way to assign them additional work. Now, having a soldier who was both an educated man and eager to go hunting was, for him, simply the best possible role model. As long as Ou Yang could bring back a good haul this time, he had no doubt the other soldiers would follow suit. To this end, Huang Qianzong even lent Ou Yang ten warbows and 120 heavy arrows. They agreed that upon Ou Yang’s return from the hunt, he would simply give him a bearskin and a pair of bear paws as “interest.” As a token of his approval of his subordinate, Huang Qianzong also presented Ou Yang with a set of chain mail. Currently, the Empire does not prohibit the private possession of armor. After all, as long as it isn’t imbued with magic or sorcery, no armor can withstand a flintlock musket—and even most of the Empire’s regular troops no longer wear iron armor. Well-connected merchants have turned the sale of swords, armor, and other military gear to foreign markets into a major business. In particular, plate mail—the easiest to manufacture and cheapest to produce—is exported in large quantities. Conversely, more labor-intensive types of armor, such as scale mail and chain mail, have become rare. This set of chain mail was spoils of war captured by the Thousand-Captain long ago during the campaign against the Golden Horde of the Tatars. While it was practically worthless in the interior, it contained a substantial amount of iron, making it a real treasure in this frontier region. The men Ou Yang had brought with him were still loading grain, so Huang Qianzong sent two of his personal slaves to help Ou Yang carry away the weapons. Back at the grain store, these war bows caused quite a stir. Villagers from all the Jia districts had gathered to buy grain, and the fact that this group from the 8th Jia had loaded up 1,000 jin in one go was already the envy of many. Now that the Paijia had brought ten more war bows, it was enough to make anyone green with envy. These days, a northern war bow was worth 1 yuan and 500 fen; by the time it was transported to the border, it could fetch as much as 2 yuan—an amount that commoners and slaves could never hope to save up on their own. Even Heheli, Wukeshan, and their group felt a pang of envy. Since their master possessed a flintlock, all those warbows were naturally intended for them, his servants. With such fine bows, these veteran hunters were confident they could take down tigers and bears—this hunting expedition was sure to yield a bountiful harvest. Wukeshan, the most skilled archer, whispered, “So many war bows! And so many heavy arrows! This year will be a good one!” Heheli replied, “All of this was given by our Master, the Company Commander! The School Supervisor provides grain, the Company Commander provides weapons—our Master, the Armored Officer, truly lives up to his reputation as a scholar; wherever he goes, he brings benefits. If we serve him well, we might even earn our freedom someday!” Even commoners and slaves among the Di Yi had the opportunity to rise to the ranks of commoner or citizen, and the simplest way to do so was to enlist in the army and fight. According to earlier military law: each head taken in battle counted as one merit level. A slave needed 10 merit levels to rise to commoner; a commoner needed 20 to rise to citizen; a citizen needed 10 more to become a citizen; and a citizen who earned another 20 merit levels could even be enfeoffed as a low-ranking noble! However, now that the Empire’s military might is formidable and the surrounding Di Yi tribes pose less of a threat, earning a single merit level requires beheading two or three enemies—and only on the battlefield. Killing members of primitive tribes doesn’t count, the value of a head has plummeted, and there aren’t that many battles to fight anyway. Fortunately, these border-region conscripts from the “Pai Jia” villages have other options—they can go hunting and capture more slaves, which can also count as heads toward their merit. If a “Pai Jia” has the right connections, a single captive can even count as one level of merit. In the Empire, becoming a commoner meant you could own slaves and be a master yourself. For the Di Yi, who came from a society that was half-slave and half-primitive, this was nothing short of a dream come true. Now, Heheli felt he had already touched the very edge of that dream. Ou Yang asked Heheli and Batu to help put away all the bows and arrows. He went out to buy five more handcarts. These small carts were a common means of transport along the northern border; they closely resembled the one-wheeled handcarts Ou Yang had seen in another realm, except that these also had two sled-like supports. When it snowed, the wheels could be removed, allowing them to be used as small, hand-pushed or man-drawn sleds—perfect for areas west of the Pamir Mountains where snow fell year-round. With everything ready, Ou Yang led his men back to the village. But as soon as they left the city gates, a burly Yiren man threw himself at Ou Yang’s horse’s feet, kowtowing while shouting at the top of his lungs, “Please, my lord, take this servant in! Please, my lord, take this servant in!” Caught off guard, Ou Yang was startled and quickly reined in his horse. Heheli and the others nearby roared angrily, drawing their axes to block the foreigner. Even with the axe blades pressed against him, the foreigner continued to shout, “Please, my lord, take this servant in! This servant knows where the barbarians’ tribe is! This servant can lead you there!” “What did you say? You know where the Shengdi tribe is?” The man’s final words caught Ou Yang’s attention. Ou Yang waved his hand, signaling Heheli and the others to release the man, and asked, “Who are you? How do you know where the Shengdi tribe is?” Generally speaking, the combat effectiveness of the Empire’s garrison troops was slightly superior to that of the Shengdi and Sheng Yi. The Imperial garrison troops, heavily mixed with commoners and slaves from the Di Yi tribes, were not much more civilized than the Shengdi or Sheng Yi; combat played just as significant a role in their lives as it did for their opponents. Moreover, given the Empire’s formidable industrial strength, it could easily gain an advantage in equipment—at the very least, every soldier was armed with an iron axe, and most of the Han Chinese accompanying them (primarily armored officers) possessed pseudo-steel swords and firearms. Tribal people, most of whom still used stone tools and bone arrows, were certainly no match for them. In contrast, the greatest challenge of the hunting expedition was locating these tribes. They typically stockpiled food for the winter before the snow fell; once the snow arrived, unless absolutely necessary, they would hole up in their earthen huts and not emerge for the rest of the winter. Ou Yang had made some preparations beforehand and had heard from Huang Qianzong about precautions for hunting expeditions, so he was well aware of these matters. This was also a major reason why he agreed to bring along the Di youth Hamuha. Now that a man claiming to be able to locate the Shengdi tribe was kneeling before his horse, Ou Yang began to wonder if Huang Qianzong had deliberately sent him this gift. However, if Huang Qianzong had such a subordinate, he should have gone on the hunt himself to capture these slaves. Ou Yang scrutinized the man closely. He wore a garment sewn from deer hide, tied at the waist with a hemp cord from which a stone axe was sheathed, and carried a goatskin pouch on his back. This attire was entirely different from that of the Di Yi garrison soldiers. The Di Yi soldiers of the Empire would typically sell large hides or trade them for grain, and an iron axe was an indispensable tool for both work and combat. This man, clad in deerskin and carrying stone tools, was clearly a Sheng Yi. Ou Yang found this somewhat strange. When the weather was warm, it wasn’t actually rare to see Sheng Yi in Anxi Garrison. These barbarians would also come to Anxi Garrison during favorable weather to trade their game for daily necessities—such as grain, salt, hemp rope, and hemp cloth—and occasionally even iron, though unscrupulous merchants set the price of ironware so high that it was hard to come by. Anxi Garrison would even hold a market in June and July to conduct large-scale trade with the Shengdi and Sheng Yi tribes. During this period, the Empire’s forces would not attack these tribes, and some of the Shengdi and Sheng Yi could even redeem their captured relatives and friends. But that was summer, the busy farming season, when the imperial garrison troops had no time for hunting. Winter was a completely different story. Once their logging quotas were met, the garrison troops had nothing to do but look forward to hunting. At this time, any Wild Di or Sheng Yi who appeared before the imperial troops were natural prey and the best source of slaves. This man, now blocking Ou Yang’s path, was practically walking into a trap. However, Ou Yang did not want to sacrifice the big prize for a small gain. If this man truly revealed the Shengdi’s hiding place, the rewards from this hunt would be extremely generous. Ou Yang dismounted and approached the man. After a moment’s thought, he asked, “What is your name? Why have you come to offer your services to this official?” The man remained kneeling there, seemingly sensing that his chance had come. He kowtowed and replied, “This servant’s name is Takurai. My tribe was raided by barbarians a few days ago. I know where those barbarians are and can lead my lord there—I only ask that my lord return my child to me!” Takurai’s Mandarin was far from fluent, and, driven by desperation, he blurted out a jumble of words so rapidly that Ou Yang couldn’t make head or tail of it. Hu Lanshan, however, having spent a long time with the Di Yi tribes, was familiar with their way of speaking and could make out more of what was being said. He stepped in to help Takurai explain, and Ou Yang finally understood: Takurai was a able-bodied man from a Sheng Yi tribe not far from there. Before the snow fell, he had brought men to trade, but upon returning, he discovered his home had been ransacked. The perpetrators were from the Shengdi tribe, with whom they had a long-standing feud. Somehow, the Shengdi had obtained iron weapons; they slaughtered all the elderly members of Takurai’s tribe, seized all the women, children, cattle, sheep, and other possessions, and left Takurai with only a few companions who had been lucky enough to escape. The few survivors discussed the situation and concluded that they had no chance of taking revenge on their own. To get their children back, the best course of action was to sell themselves into service with the Han. However, some had reservations. For some unknown reason, the Shengdi had suddenly acquired a large number of iron weapons—and the only source of iron in the vicinity was the Han people. It was impossible to say whether the Shengdi had already sold themselves out to the Han. If that were the case, they would truly be walking straight into a trap. With no other choice, Takurai returned to town alone to see if the Han were indeed planning to wipe them out.