The Unnamed Bay on the east side of the Unnamed Peninsula.
It was called “Unnamed” because proper surveying had not yet been conducted, so no official name had been established.
However, among the captains and admirals responsible for the region, several strong candidates were circulating.
“The bay resembles a round earthenware pot, and the island situated in the middle is like a bolt barring the entrance to the bay.”
Following this reasoning, names using the character for ‘jar’ (항(缸)) had emerged—the northern peninsula (Florida) became Northern Jar Peninsula, the southern peninsula (Yucatan) became Southern Jar Peninsula, and the island acting as a bolt (Cuba) was called Great Barrier Island[1], using the character for ‘barrier’ (關).
This was unavoidable, as ships setting out on exploration needed geographical landmarks to determine their positions.
The problem was that merely labeling these landmarks as A, B, or C without proper names proved inefficient.
So despite these unofficial names being established, there was a specific reason they couldn’t be officially adopted—and that reason was Hyang.
***
When the number of place names in the New Frontier began to increase, Hyang issued the following order:
“From now on, new place names in the New Frontier shall use either the names used by the natives or be created using the Empire’s language and Jeongeum[2].”
“We humble servants are confused by this directive.”
To the officials’ inquiry, Hyang immediately replied.
“What I mean is that until now, we’ve been creating names using Chinese characters, like ‘Great Snow Island’ or ‘Bell-Shape Peninsula.’ From now on, use the Empire’s language instead. Hmm… let me give you an example. Consider a place called ‘Dalmaji Point’—the character for ‘point’ (串) has been used since ancient times so that’s fine, but don’t unnecessarily change ‘Dalmaji’ (Moon-Greeting) into the Chinese characters for ‘Welcome Moon’ (迎月).”
“But Your Majesty, this will take much longer to record. When making maps, there may not be enough space to write the place names.”
“That’s something we’ll have to accept.”
“But…”
“Enough. This is an order.”
Raising his hand to stop the officials’ complaints, Hyang added:
“This is necessary because the world is changing. Even if you put great thought into naming places with Chinese characters, hardly anyone will understand their meaning.”
At Hyang’s words, Shin Sukju, who supervised relations with natives in the New Frontier, lit up with understanding. As a man known as a “language genius,” he grasped Hyang’s meaning.
“I’ve heard that the practice of recording both proper Hangul and Chinese characters has largely disappeared in our homeland. Is the reason the same?”
“Correct.”
Nodding at Shin Sukju’s words, Hyang muttered to himself:
Even with Hangul’s introduction, this was inevitable. Even in the 21st century, people had to look up what Apgujeong (狎鷗亭) meant.
***
As Hyang had said, with the promulgation and widespread use of Hunminjeongeum—or Jeongeum for short—Chinese characters were rapidly disappearing from everyday use.
To solve the problem of homonyms, official documents and government gazettes still required both Hangul and Chinese characters.
But in private matters, sending documents written solely in Jeongeum had become the norm.
In civilian contexts, the dual writing system was primarily used only for legal documents like contracts where money changed hands.
Of course, civilians also encountered homonym issues. However, these could usually be resolved by examining the context, so it wasn’t a major problem.
If someone failed to understand properly, they would become the butt of jokes:
“Hey, that’s not what it means! You can’t even understand that? Which public school did you attend?”
The opposite case also existed. Those who stubbornly wrote or recited in Classical Chinese would find themselves quietly ridiculed.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re so clever!”
***
“In this situation, in about ten years, hardly anyone will know what meaning you intended when naming these places in Chinese characters. Therefore, avoid using Chinese characters for naming whenever possible.”
“We shall obey your command.”
Because of this order, the unofficial names couldn’t be immediately formalized.
“Of course, we could call them ‘Jar Bay,’ ‘Northern Jar Peninsula,’ ‘Southern Jar Peninsula,’ and ‘Great Barrier Island’ in our language, but somehow it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue…”
The admirals and captains of the region smacked their lips, expressing their regret.
Though decades had passed since Jeongeum’s promulgation, and official documents were routinely written in the alphabet, when it came to naming places or composing elegant passages, using Chinese characters still felt more proper.
“But I hear young folks these days don’t even use Chinese characters in official documents anymore. Sigh…”
Taking deep breaths, the admirals and captains gazed at the sunset and murmured:
“Is this what it means to grow old…?”
***
Due to these circumstances, a Challenger-class warship was passing through the western region of the unofficially named Southern Jar Peninsula.
Captain Kim Taek-gil, reviewing the ship’s log and work journal, surveyed the nearby terrain and issued orders to his crew.
“Drop anchor and prepare to land! We’re beginning the survey work!”
“Yes, Captain, sir! Drop anchor!”
“Drop anchor! Furl the sails!”
Thanks to the crew’s busy movements, preparations were quickly completed. The first mate who supervised the preparation process approached Kim Taek-gil to report.
“Preparations complete, sir.”
“Good work.”
“Yes. Lower the landing boat!”
“Yes, sir!”
Following the first mate’s order, a landing boat loaded with surveying equipment and weapons was lowered with crew members aboard.
As the landing boat, untethered from the crane lines, headed for the beach, the ship’s mounted firearms turned their muzzles toward the shore and entered alert status.
If any trouble arose on the beach, the mounted guns would fire first, followed by cannons striking the shore. This would allow the crew to retreat or for reinforcements to head to the beach.
Tension filled Captain Kim’s face as he watched the landing boat carrying the first mate, surveyors, and guards heading toward the shore.
“I hope nothing happens this time either…”
He had heard that traces of people had been found on Great Barrier Island and Southern Jar Peninsula. The fact that only traces had been discovered meant the natives were being extremely cautious.
It would be fortunate if they were simply timid, but if they were hiding to prepare an ambush, there was a high chance of an unpleasant encounter.
***
The first mate’s party, having beached their boat, looked around for a suitable location.
“That spot looks good.”
Under the first mate’s direction, the surveyors set up their equipment on the firm, level ground and began their measurements.
While the first mate and surveyors proceeded with their work, the accompanying soldiers kept watch in all directions, rifles in hand.
As time passed, the alertness of the soldiers on guard began to slacken slightly.
This was partly because there had been almost no incidents involving natives, and partly because of the weather.
“Phew… this weather is really annoying.”
When one soldier of native descent wiped sweat from his brow while complaining, a comrade beside him playfully joked:
“Isn’t this familiar weather for your homeland?”
“My homeland is up north in Daehogun. It’s not this hot. Though in winter, it’s perfectly cold enough to freeze to death…”
“Ah, I’ll give you that. It’s colder than my hometown.”
“Where’s your hometown?”
“Uiju.”
Though their eyes continued to scan their surroundings, their mouths were busy exchanging banter.
Just then.
Rustle!
With a rustling sound from the jungle adjoining the shore, a group of natives revealed themselves.
“Halt!”
Click! Click!
Seeing the natives, the soldiers tensed up, shouted “Halt!” and immediately loaded and aimed their guns.
At the soldiers’ shout, the first mate drew a pistol from his waist and looked at the natives.
The highly-strung soldiers and the first mate swallowed dryly as they watched the approaching natives.
The natives approaching them slowly were equally tense.
***
The Aztec warriors who encountered the Imperial Navy were just as nervous.
They had been moving in search of sacrifices—animals or humans—when they reached the shore and encountered the Imperial Navy.
The foreigners on the beach were few in number, but the problem was the vessel they appeared to have arrived in.
The ship floating near the shore was incomparably larger than any they used.
“If only it weren’t for that ship…”
If not for that ship, the foreigners on the beach would have made perfect sacrifices.
It was certain they would receive great praise from the king and priests if they captured these foreigners, never before seen in the area, for sacrifice.
But that ship was the problem. With such a large vessel, it was certain that even more foreigners would be aboard.
So the Aztec warriors looked to the jaguar warrior who had led them.
Whether or not he understood his subordinates’ concerns, the jaguar warrior Chupifutan Ptzecurifutan bit his lip and deliberated intensely.
What to do…
If he could capture the foreigners before him, he would earn great merit.
But the problem was that enormous ship floating on the sea. Its size made it impossible to gauge how many foreigners might be aboard.
No, there must be at least 100 men.
In such a situation, rushing in to capture them would more likely result in his own party’s defeat.
Yet retreating was also problematic.
Withdrawing from an enemy was shameful for a warrior. Even if he decided to retreat and report to his superiors, he would certainly be scorned.
As if I’m not already ridiculed enough because of my name…
His name translated to “Brown Jaguar of Calamity who Brings Calamity.” With “calamity” appearing twice, many people avoided him.
Depending on who these foreigners were, he would certainly be branded as someone who brought disaster. In the worst case, he might even become a sacrifice himself, his heart torn out.
I have no choice!
After much deliberation, Futan turned to his subordinates.
“We will meet these foreigners. Move as slowly as possible, and do not attack until I give the order.”
Having instructed his warriors, Futan rose from the jungle shadows and began moving toward the beach.
As soon as they appeared, the foreigners shouted unintelligible words and aimed their long wooden sticks.
Seeing the foreigners’ reaction, Futan slowly approached, holding his macuahuitl with both hands above his head.
His subordinates likewise followed slowly behind Futan. The difference was that they gripped their spears tightly, ready to thrust at any moment.
After a while, the two sides faced each other at a distance of about three meters.
As both sides observed each other in heightened tension, Futan and the first mate simultaneously thought the same thing:
But will we be able to communicate?
Both sides were encountering each other for the first time, with completely different attire and characteristics.
It was certain that communication would be impossible.