Chapter 989 - Ayutthaya

Divine King Prasat Thong rose as usual, opened his bedchamber window, and gazed outside. The entire city of Ayutthaya still basked in sunlight. Ayutthaya—which the Chinese habitually called "the Great City"—occupied a river island one hundred kilometers northeast of modern Bangkok. The name meant "City of Eternal Victory." This was the ruling center of the Ayutthaya Kingdom, which would dominate Thai history for six hundred years.

Though the Siamese Kingdom was not yet unified, Ayutthaya city was already magnificent. The urban area had expanded to fifteen square kilometers. According to the English, its population roughly equaled London's—meaning at least two hundred thousand souls. Even by the standards of the densely populated Great Ming, a city of such scale was considerable. At its zenith, it supposedly harbored one million inhabitants.

Within the city walls, the royal palace gleamed resplendent. Buddhist pagodas rose like forests. Commercial prosperity was second to none in Southeast Asia. Built on a large island at the confluence of three rivers, Ayutthaya enjoyed highly developed water transport. Aquatic products from the south and agricultural goods from the north converged here for trading. Products from as far as China were continuously shipped in by sea.

But the Divine King had no heart to admire his capital's splendid scenery. Early that morning, a palace servant had reported troubling news: five days ago, a fleet had arrived outside the Chao Phraya River's mouth—quite substantial in scale. The key detail was that they flew a flag never before seen. They were currently anchored on the Thonburi shore of the Chao Phraya River.

Prasat Thong had grown exceedingly cautious about outsiders lately. The previous year, Ayutthaya's great merchant Yamada Nagamasa had died from infection after being wounded while accompanying the Siamese army to suppress a rebellion in Nakhon Si Thammarat. Though he had repeatedly assured Yamada's Japanese subordinates that he hadn't poisoned their master, he still could not earn their trust. Meanwhile, his ministers—long jealous of Japanese commercial success in Ayutthaya—had instructed the army to burn down the Japanese town at the south gate. The conflict escalated further; the Japanese volunteer corps and merchants fled in droves to Cambodia. Before this mess could even be resolved, just one month prior, a messenger had brought news from Edo: Shogun Iemitsu was furious about the treatment of merchants with Shogunate connections in Siam and had formally terminated trade. This development made the young king's life considerably harder—the Burmese to the west were growing stronger, having successively captured Chiang Rai and Chiang Mai.

Though Chiang Rai and Chiang Mai belonged to the Lanna Kingdom—one of the "Three Tais"—and not Ayutthaya proper, they were Ayutthaya's vassal states. The two maintained a close alliance. The principle of "when lips perish, teeth grow cold" presented no difficulty for the rulers of Ayutthaya, who were descendants of Chinese.

Though local Siamese were brave, they lacked quality weapons. Southeast Asian metallurgy and handicrafts had always lagged behind. Swords had traditionally been imported from Japan, while silver earned from exports was used to purchase gunpowder, arquebus, and cannons from the Portuguese and Dutch. With Japanese trade now severed, all this became problematic.

Prasat Thong knew Thonburi—only some small fishing villages stood there, plus a modest number of Ming Chinese merchants. Compared to great ports like Pattani where merchants congregated, Thonburi was relatively quiet. This was because the principal exports were rice and timber, while foreign merchants preferred spices from the Southern Seas.

He began questioning the messenger about this unfamiliar group.

From the messenger's account, he learned this group differed from Ming Chinese merchants. Though they possessed the same faces and also used Chinese characters, their speech and physique seemed unlike Ming people—not to mention that short hair, which somewhat resembled the style worn by certain Siamese generals.

"They claim they came to purchase our rice. If we're willing, they're prepared to trade using silver and weapons." Having finished, the messenger presented to the Divine King the sample the Australians had provided: a standard machete. His Majesty carefully examined the blade. This knife was no inferior to Japanese swords.

This blade was Lingao's mass-produced 1631 standard machete, replacing the 1629 model. It was widely issued to armies and militia, especially within the Navy and Marine Corps—and was also employed in agricultural production. A dual-use military and civilian product. Except for minor handle details, all blades were completely identical.

Because it was a mass-produced practical tool, the materials and processes were deliberately simple. The blade was stamped directly from blank steel, then heat-treated and blued, finally shaped, sharpened, and fitted with a handle. Then wrapped in oilpaper and packed in wooden crates.

Such a knife, in terms of cost and process complexity, was far inferior to the Japanese swords shipped throughout East and Southeast Asia. But thanks to batch-manufactured quality steel, modern heat treatment technology, and chemical processing, the quality was no worse than lower-grade Japanese swords selling for three taels.

Prasat Thong ordered his military officers to take the knife out and "test" it, comparing it against various imported Japanese swords. After a while, the officer reported that this knife's quality matched Japanese swords. It was also much lighter.

This stirred Prasat Thong's interest, and he inquired about the price.

"They say every hundred costs one hundred Chinese taels of silver."

Everyone present was somewhat astonished. One should understand that Japanese swords were genuinely not cheap. Lower-grade Japanese swords commanded three hundred taels per hundred. Even the lowest grade—"common folk's everyday self-defense implements, not weapons of war"—the worst Japanese swords still fetched one tael apiece.

By comparison, Ping Qiusheng's quoted price was remarkably conscientious: one hundred knives for one hundred taels, equivalent to the price of the worst Japanese swords. The value proposition was so exceptional that Divine King Prasat Thong asked about the price twice.

"The Australians said this type of knife, along with spears of similar quality, they have in quantities as great as we require. They ask only for sufficient rice plus the privilege to establish a trading post in Thonburi and conduct trade." Having received benefits from the Australians, the messenger quickly elaborated when he saw the king deep in contemplation.

"Then have Worawong handle this matter." Even if the quality didn't quite match Japanese swords, as long as supply was sufficient, this was precisely what the kingdom needed most. Besides, rice here was plentiful. If the Burmese to the west continued their attacks, it would only benefit them for nothing.

Thonburi stood on the west bank of what is now Bangkok. In this timeline, due to Pattani's superior resources and geographic conditions, it had not developed. Its rise would come only after the Ayutthaya Kingdom's fall. Currently, apart from the core Ayutthaya region, the southwestern territories could only be characterized as a federation or confederation unified under the Siamese banner.

In the sixteenth century, Thailand comprised three kingdoms: Sukhothai, Lanna, and Phayao. Following Chinese convention, they might be called the Three Thai. These kingdoms maintained an alliance relationship. Later, the Ayutthaya Kingdom—the "Great City" established by Uthong, a descendant of Chinese merchants—replaced Sukhothai, defeated the Khmer, and reduced Sukhothai to vassal status. As for Lanna, it survived as an Ayutthaya dependency until the nineteenth century.

The Bangkok region of later eras remained dense jungle at this time. Bangkok itself did not exist. The only usable port was Thonburi on the Chao Phraya's west bank. But this commanded the Chao Phraya's outlet—a crucial geographic position, ideal for absorbing the vast quantities of rice produced in the Chao Phraya basin.

Thailand's northeast was plateau terrain. Mountain barriers created a rain-shadow climate where summers were dry while monsoon rains proved excessive—conditions unsuitable for cultivation. Thailand's rankings among the world's top three rice exporters in the original timeline derived entirely from the Chao Phraya riverside. Control the river's outlet, and one could continuously absorb Siam's rice. After Operation Engine concluded and the Southeast Asia strategy commenced, the transmigrator group's grain problems in South China could essentially be permanently resolved. According to data Ping Qiusheng had unearthed in the Grand Library, during the mid-Qing period, the Siamese region exported eleven million shi of rice annually to Guangdong—equivalent to half of all Japan's kokudaka! Even if only one-third or one-quarter of such resources were controlled by the transmigrator group in this era, it would suffice to feed Hainan's entire population for a year with surplus remaining. The sole outstanding issue was transport capacity.

During the days awaiting the messenger's departure, the fleet kept busy. Besides measuring hydrographics and surveying surrounding terrain, the research team dispatched investigation parties to assess other local resources. Within two days, the team returned with a pleasant surprise for Ping Qiusheng.

"Old Ping, look what this is!" Investigation team member Liu Zheng exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. In his hand was an irregularly crystallized yellow substance.

"Amber? Where did you find this?"

"This is potash ore—specifically, carnallite. There's a substantial quantity nearby. No wonder the land here is so fertile." Liu Zheng had spent considerable time with the survey team and had grown quite familiar with minerals—no longer the pure outdoor enthusiast he once was.

"Excellent find," he said. Through his surveying work, Liu Zheng dealt frequently with industrial and agricultural departments. Agricultural Elders constantly lamented the fertilizer problem.

Fertilizer meant more than just nitrogen—potassium and phosphorus fertilizers were equally essential. Compared to phosphorus fertilizer, which had guano and phosphate rock supplies, potassium fertilizer had always been scarce. This shortage could not be resolved simply through industrial upgrades—not just Lingao or Hainan, but all of East Asia lacked sufficient potash ore. Lingao's potassium fertilizer derived from the refined salt industry at Ma'ao, but production was meager—roughly every hundred tons of refined salt yielded only two tons of potassium salts. A drop in the bucket.

If they could secure stable potash ore from Siam, it would prove enormously beneficial for agricultural production overall. If bulk mining could commence and the processed potassium fertilizer all flowed to Qiongshan's cooperatives, the more dramatic the cooperatives' immediate results, the more successful the series of agricultural reforms in Qiongshan would become.

At Liu Zheng's suggestion, potash ore was added to the trade inventory.

Thailand's potash ore was concentrated mainly on the Khorat Plateau, with scattered deposits elsewhere. However, potash ore was typically buried quite deep—mostly around three hundred meters underground. But due to the karst topography, some veins did surface, and mining conditions remained acceptable.

(End of Chapter)