King of Commerce, Yeonsan-gun Ch.28

The Return of Kyung-sik, the Hero of Another World

As the people of Hamyang County enjoyed their version of democracy in Jinju's autumn, let's rewind time to spring in Hanyang, where Kyung-sik was busy with his reforms.

Given that most of Joseon's population were farmers, establishing the agricultural cooperative was a priority. However, Joseon also had emerging commercial and industrial sectors that needed attention.

Kyung-sik's goal was to invigorate these sectors, organizing and developing them to foster growth. The urgency to enhance industrial capabilities became starkly evident during his military reform efforts.

“Only 5,000 suits of armor in the entire Armory Department, with fewer than 1,000 being iron armor?” Kyung-sik was astounded.

Due to the rotational duty system of Joseon’s standing army, the number of suits of armor was limited to those needed for the active duty soldiers at any given time.

“How long does it take for an armorer to make a suit of armor?” Kyung-sik asked.

“With about 30 armorers working on paper armor, they can produce 10 suits in a month, equating to 120 suits a year,” came the reply.

Kyung-sik nearly swore. It would take a century to outfit 12,000 soldiers in paper armor, let alone iron armor.

Moreover, there were only 30 armorers in Seoul and about 50 in the provinces. How could they possibly be expected to fight effectively with such limited resources?

Seeing the anger in the king’s eyes, Minister of War, Seong Jun, tried to calm him with a desperate suggestion. “But now, with the state’s resources, the armorers can work full-time without other duties. They could produce 30 suits a month.”

Though lower-level soldiers and clerks were barely paid enough to prevent corruption, the artisans received relatively generous compensation. This had led to fewer desertions, with many artisans even relocating their families to Seoul and working full-time.

“Still, it will take 30 years to outfit just 10,000 soldiers!” Kyung-sik exclaimed.

For those accustomed to learning about massive armies in the Three Kingdoms era, 10,000 soldiers might seem insignificant.

But in recent times, Joseon had never even maintained a standing force of 10,000.

Officially, the records listed 100,000 regular soldiers, but in reality, the kingdom struggled to mobilize even 20,000 during the campaigns against the Jurchens under King Seongjong, resulting in minimal success.

This production capacity would never suffice without significant reforms and advances.

“Enough! I will personally inspect the Armory Department. And all ministers must implement the reforms I decree by the end of this year.”

And so began the king’s direct oversight of an armor production marathon, with the armorers trembling as they worked under his watchful eye.

Kyung-sik observed that the armor production process was somewhat segmented already.

With armor requiring leather, cloth, and iron components, the armorers couldn’t handle everything themselves. Leather components were made by leatherworkers, cloth by the Sewing Department, and the armorers mainly assembled the pieces.

The process, involving marking each weapon with the craftsman’s and overseer’s names and the year of manufacture, was close to a scientific production method.

“But this isn’t enough,” Kyung-sik thought.

After reviewing the manufacturing process, he realized that segmenting and standardizing the tasks could vastly improve efficiency, especially for armor involving rivets.

By breaking down tasks such as making the scales for the armor, creating rivets, and assembling them, and by standardizing the specifications, they could achieve higher production rates.

Tasking commoners with simpler assembly tasks, like riveting scales to cloth, while focusing skilled labor on more complex steps, seemed ideal.

“It’s spring planting season, so maybe we can engage the residents of the refugee camps,” Kyung-sik mused.

Unfortunately for the soldiers, ornamental designs on the armor would have to be sacrificed. Speed was essential.

With many tasks at hand, including the shortage of iron, Kyung-sik bought several houses in the Mapo district near the docks and established a secondary Armory Department there, making it his temporary palace. The proximity to auctions and a harbor made it ideal for quickly sourcing iron.

Reluctant Ministers and Rapid Progress

Ministers soon heard that the king had left Hanyang to reside in Mapo, supervising not only the production of rivets and tools for armor assembly but also experimenting with firearm production.

While they trusted the king’s abilities and knew better than to oppose him directly, this seemed like an unnecessary distraction during peacetime. They argued that such tasks could be left to the military officials.

Moreover, the king had burdened them with various new duties and reforms. With most of the Ministry of Public Works and the Ministry of War already relocated to Mapo, the burden fell on the remaining ministries.

The Minister of Rites, Seong Hyeon, volunteered to plead with the king, as his ministry faced the most urgent tasks, including overseeing the civil service exams and coordinating diplomatic missions to China. This required frequent trips to Mapo, making his job particularly taxing.

It took him over an hour to reach the makeshift palace in Mapo, only to be greeted by an unusual noise from the riverbank.

“Ready—! Fire—!”

Bang! Bang-bang-bang!

It was the sound of cannons, but far more synchronized and overwhelming than anything he had heard before.

“What in the world?” Seong Hyeon muttered.

He redirected his sedan chair toward the source of the noise, knowing that wherever strange events occurred in Joseon lately, the king was likely at the center of it.

Sure enough, there stood the king in his white royal robe, overseeing the soldiers from an elevated position.

Smoke enveloped the soldiers, clearly indicating some kind of firearms testing.

“Hurrah!”

Civil and military officials alike were cheering enthusiastically, forgetting their usual decorum.

“With these firearms, we need no longer fear for our nation's defense! We can repel the barbarians and pirates alike!”

“Long ago, during the Goryeo era, Choi Mu-seon first crafted cannons, and though our kingdom has long utilized such devices, these muskets surpass them all!”

“Indeed, I merely learned from the wisdom of the ancients. Much remains to be improved,” Kyung-sik responded modestly.

To Kyung-sik, this wasn’t just modesty. It was true, as he had merely adapted old knowledge he had learned.

“Thank you, National Jinju Museum!” he thought.

Had it not been for the clickbait video titled “Prepare for Time Travel: Learn About Muskets,” he might not have known how to replicate such future technology.

While Kyung-sik might seem out of place in the role of a technical innovator, history shows that until the early 19th century, most technologies were developed by craftsmen without formal education. Apart from complex machinery like clocks, many devices could be made with some manual skill and ingenuity.

People interested in history, who often end up studying humanities, are more likely to stumble upon information about ancient technologies like muskets. This was true for Kyung-sik.

Thanks to an engaging video from a government channel, he had a solid understanding of the differences between cannons and muskets, their types, and even their production methods.

Although he hadn’t expected to use this knowledge in a literal time-travel scenario, it proved invaluable.

Given Joseon’s industrial capabilities, the muskets they created weren’t perfect replicas. They were more akin to crude hybrid weapons, crafted from recycled cannon barrels with added stocks, powder pans, and trigger mechanisms. They resembled early small hand cannons but with several improvements.

The development process was swift. Kyung-sik cut thick paper into patterns for parts like the powder pan, trigger, and stock, showing the artisans how they worked by pinning them together.

The blacksmiths quickly proposed making iron parts strong enough to withstand gunpowder, promising to deliver within a day. The carpenters, not to be outdone, offered to make working wooden models in just a couple of hours.

Using the wooden models to test the mechanisms, they then crafted the final parts from iron, successfully assembling a working musket in just two days.

Historically, firearms spread rapidly across countries once they were introduced, thanks to their relatively simple design.

The primary limitation was that these muskets were transitional weapons, relying on recycled bronze barrels.

Joseon faced a shortage of bronze, lead, and iron. Bronze, always in short supply due to its use in cannons, type blocks, and coins, came from limited sources.

In Kyung-sik’s Joseon, where type blocks were now made from lead and coins were less in demand, bronze was slightly less scarce.

Lead, a byproduct of silver refinement, found new uses with the introduction of printing presses and lead type. Now, Kyung-sik was also making bullets from lead, inspired by knowledge of expanding bullets like the Minie ball.

However, lead mines were still undeveloped.

Iron was somewhat more available. Early Joseon’s iron production relied on a system of public works and convict labor, with supplies coming through tribute payments.

By the time Kyung-sik arrived in Joseon, this system was defunct, with private forges filling the gap and iron being procured through market transactions.

Kyung-sik’s reforms had greatly increased logistical capacities, allowing them to purchase iron at auction, securing a steady supply of several thousand geun (a Korean weight unit).

The challenge was manufacturing muskets properly, as this required the ability to cut threads for screws. Muskets needed a metal tube with a threaded end to secure the barrel.

Kyung-sik had seen how to make tubes from wrought iron on the YouTube video, but making screws was another matter.

By manually carving wax into screw shapes, carpenters quickly replicated the design, but blacksmiths struggled with the process.

Fortunately, they had tools to shape the wrought iron, and after nearly a day’s effort, they produced a few threaded screws.

Using these screws, they assembled muskets, though about half of them failed during testing.

Kyung-sik had no immediate solution. Although he knew about 18th-century screw-cutting lathes from Britain, he couldn’t replicate their complex mechanics.

“We must rely on training the artisans and allowing them time to perfect their craft,” he concluded.

Hearing this, the Ministry of War officials vehemently opposed halting production.

“Our country has long used cannons since Choi Mu-seon brought the technology from Yuan. The benefits of such weapons are immense, allowing us to quell uprisings swiftly. If we can produce enough of these muskets to equip our soldiers, it will bring great prosperity to our people. How can we abandon such valuable technology?”

In essence, they begged him to continue making the muskets.

Kyung-sik found their fervor amusing. They were so eager to push the responsibility back to him after merely watching him work.

Inspired by their enthusiasm, Kyung-sik decided to involve them more directly.

Organizing for Efficiency

“Thanks to the methods you devised, the production of rivets has increased from 30 to 100,000 per day, which is remarkable. But why should the king oversee the work of artisans personally?” protested the officials.

While the Ministry of War appreciated the benefits of new weaponry, they felt the king’s involvement in mundane tasks, like making rivets, was excessive.

After all, this was peacetime, and such detailed work should be left to military officials. The officials felt the king should be focused on broader governance rather than micromanaging production.

Moreover, why should the king undertake such tasks while burdening the ministers with other reforms?

But not all ministers shared this sentiment. Many were already working in Mapo with the king, leaving only the Ministry of Rites to address these concerns.

Seong Hyeon’s ministry, facing immediate deadlines, took the lead. With the civil service exams and diplomatic missions pending, the ministry couldn’t afford constant trips to Mapo.

Arriving at the temporary palace after a long journey, Seong Hyeon was greeted by an extraordinary scene of musket testing and an exuberant reception by officials and soldiers alike.

“Ready—! Fire—!”

Bang! Bang-bang-bang!

It was a cacophony of explosions, unlike anything Seong Hyeon had ever heard. The rhythmic blasts of musket fire reverberated through the air.

“What on earth is happening here?” Seong Hyeon asked, directing his sedan chair towards the source.

Seeing the king in his white royal robe overseeing the smoky battlefield confirmed his suspicions. The king was at the heart of this grand experiment.

The enthusiastic cheers of the officials only added to the surreal atmosphere. Even the most reserved among them seemed swept up in the excitement.

Kyung-sik modestly deflected their praises, crediting ancient wisdom for the advancements he introduced.

But Kyung-sik’s modesty was rooted in truth. His understanding of muskets came from historical knowledge, not personal innovation.

Reflecting on the invaluable resources from his past, Kyung-sik silently thanked the educational videos that had inadvertently prepared him for this moment.

Although Kyung-sik’s musket prototypes were not perfect, they marked significant progress. The rapid development from recycled materials into functional muskets demonstrated Joseon’s potential for technological advancement.

This was a far cry from the traditional methods that had dominated Joseon’s military production.

Despite the challenges of limited resources, Kyung-sik pressed on, knowing that refining these weapons was crucial.

But there was more work to be done. Standardizing and mass-producing muskets required advancements in screw-cutting technology, which was currently beyond their capabilities.

Faced with these limitations, Kyung-sik decided to rely on enhancing the artisans’ skills through training and time.

However, the Ministry of War officials’ determination to continue production, despite the hurdles, was a testament to their belief in the king’s vision.

Their unwavering support led Kyung-sik to leverage their enthusiasm for broader reforms.

Efficiency and Reform

Kyung-sik’s goal was to instill scientific management principles, focusing on standardization and quantification of production processes.

Every aspect of production, from materials to assembly steps, needed to be standardized.

High-level division of labor was essential, echoing Adam Smith’s praises of specialization in his Wealth of Nations.

Starting with the production of rivets was just the beginning.

“From making the iron scales to assembling them onto the armor, break down every task into smaller steps. Plan how each step will be divided among the workers,” Kyung-sik instructed.

Iron scales were forged, cut to specification, drilled, and heat-treated by blacksmiths. The cloth components were cut and prepared by weavers.

Finally, the armorers focused solely on assembling the armor, attaching scales to cloth with rivets, in a highly segmented and repetitive process.

“Determine how many rivets, iron scales, and pieces of cloth are needed for each suit of armor,” Kyung-sik continued.

“Each suit requires 213 scales, 426 rivets, and 8 pieces of cloth,” came the detailed response.

“How many assemblers are needed to match the production pace of the fastest worker?” Kyung-sik asked.

The Ministry of War officials, skilled in arithmetic, quickly calculated the required workforce distribution.

“Observe the fastest assembler’s method and ensure everyone else follows the same process,” Kyung-sik instructed.

This method, known as Motion Study, formed the basis of scientific management.

Though the officials grumbled about the workload, they couldn’t argue with the results. Under the king’s direction, productivity soared, and they were curious to see just how much could be achieved.

The fastest assemblers served as models, teaching others their efficient techniques, ensuring uniformity in the assembly process.

“Workers should labor for three intervals and rest for one, repeating this pattern for four shifts,” Kyung-sik decreed.

“Reward those who exceed the average production rate by fifty percent,” he added, incentivizing productivity.

These scientific management principles, applied to armor production, were soon extended to other weapons, including swords, spears, and arrows.

The implementation of these principles was not without resistance.

Artisans, traditionally seen as lowly, had taken pride in their work, enjoying a degree of autonomy. They often produced high-quality items for personal sale while supplying subpar goods to the state.

But with officials overseeing every step, from the size and shape of rivets to the placement and hammering techniques, the artisans felt their craftsmanship was being stifled.

This relentless oversight turned their work into monotonous repetition, stripping away any sense of artistry.

Feeling demoralized, many armorers threatened to quit, despite the increased pay.

The chief overseer of the Armory Department addressed their grievances. “You’ve been planning to leave since the rotational duty system ended, but you stayed because of the generous pay. Why now?”

“The constant interference of these officials is unbearable. We can’t work like this,” the armorers complained.

“Well, the situation is indeed unusual, but think of the pay. Starting next month, your pay will increase to 100 coins, higher than many government officials. Doesn’t that change things?” the overseer reminded them.

Realizing that their grievances could be mitigated by the substantial pay increase, the armorers reluctantly returned to their tasks.

The Ministry of Personnel, however, protested the high wages for artisans, arguing that such compensation would foster laziness and undermine the status of officials.

In response, Kyung-sik posed a question. “Do you know the market price of an iron suit of armor?”

“No, we don’t,” the officials replied.

“It’s 500 coins per suit. Each armorer produces 40 suits a month. Can you calculate their monthly output value?”

The officials remained silent, unable or unwilling to confront the staggering figures.

“Let me spell it out. Each armorer generates goods worth 20,000 coins a month. How can you say their pay is excessive?” Kyung-sik concluded.

A Surge in Production

Over the next two and a half months, with rigorous training, strategic reorganization, and relentless focus on efficiency, production rates soared.

Daily outputs included 400 swords, 600 spears, 80 suits of iron armor, and 1,000 arrows.

The quality was consistent, eliminating the previous practice of artisans selling the best items and submitting inferior ones to the state.

In just two months, they could produce more weapons and armor than the total stockpile in the capital’s armories.

Equipping Joseon’s standing army would be achievable in two months, and within a year, they could outfit 20,000 soldiers with iron armor, surpassing the kingdom’s historical maximum mobilization.

In four years, they could arm 100,000 iron-clad soldiers, a feat unseen since the days of Goguryeo.

The Ministry of War officials were overwhelmed with pride, envisioning a Joseon capable of commanding vast, iron-clad armies.

The prospect of deploying 100,000 soldiers, equipped with advanced weaponry, brought tears to their eyes, symbolizing the end of an era of military weakness and humiliation.

For them, the king was a fountain of miracles, and their minds were filled with visions of Joseon’s future triumphs.

Epilogue

Reflecting on these developments, Kyung-sik knew there was still much to be done. Establishing these reforms and advancements in a country resistant to change was no easy task.

But with each step, from organizing artisans into efficient production units to introducing advanced weaponry, he was reshaping Joseon’s future.

Though his journey was fraught with challenges and resistance, Kyung-sik’s unwavering resolve and innovative spirit continued to drive him forward.

As he looked out over the bustling activity of the Armory Department, he knew that this was just the beginning of Joseon’s transformation. And in the quiet moments of reflection, he silently thanked the unexpected resources from his past that had equipped him for this remarkable journey in another world.

Chapter 27     Chapter 29