Phnom Penh's Past

Phnom Penh, the Kuan family estate.

Several of Chenla's most powerful men sat around a square table. On the left sat Xie Su, head of the Internal Affairs Office, and Deng Changbu, head of the Justice Office.

On the right sat Kuan Kim-kit, head of trade, and Kuan Kim-pan, head of the Foreign Affairs Office.

Seated in the middle, facing south, was an old man in a purple robe named Palasu. He was Chenla's Haraj and grand chancellor.

Across from him sat Hong Buf, commander-in-chief of the Chenla Imperial Guard.

Palasu spoke first.

"Since we're all gathered here today, I'll spare you the unnecessary talk. The Vietnamese haven't given up their ambition to destroy Chenla. They claim to be suppressing a rebellion, but in truth they're killing off our people, breaching our cities, and plundering our citizens. Kiriha, governor of Svay Rieng, and his entire family have been wiped out. If we keep letting the Vietnamese run amok, then what happened to Kiriha today will happen to us tomorrow."

Deng Changbu slammed the table and sighed helplessly.

"Where is the law of the land? Where is the justice of Heaven? Does Nguyen Viet not fear the Buddha's wrath, or the retribution of reincarnation?"

Most people in Chenla and Vietnam were Buddhists.

Xie Su had little patience for Deng Changbu's weakness, and he didn't trust Kuan Kim-pan either. He said, "At a time like this, you're still counting on the Buddha to show his power? We should be figuring out how to save ourselves. Lord Kuan Kim-pan, are those Westerners you mentioned reliable? Couldn't they be French, the Vietnamese' lackeys, pretending to be someone else so they can trick us?"

The French had once supported the Vietnamese. But after growing powerful, the Vietnamese had begun to suppress the French at every turn, so the people of Chenla mistakenly believed that France was a vassal state of Vietnam.

"No. Their language is different. And according to the Western merchants, the Austrians are France's sworn enemies," Kuan Kim-pan replied.

Xie Su understood the principle that an enemy's enemy was a friend. He continued, "Are their firearms really that powerful? How do they compare to our matchlocks?"

"They're powerful!" said Hong Buf, commander-in-chief of the Imperial Guard. "Our matchlocks are nothing but fire pokers compared to these new foreign guns. The new guns fire faster and more accurately, and they're more powerful. Even wearing rattan armor beneath iron armor won't help. Best of all, damp weather won't ruin the powder, and the gun won't fail to fire."

Chenla's climate was hot and humid. The matchcords of matchlock guns were prone to getting damp, which severely affected their performance.

By this era, flintlock guns had already been developing for centuries. And the granulated black powder brought by Ambrosius was nothing like traditional black powder.

Granulated powder was made up of grains, so even when rammed down with a rod, the grains wouldn't clump together. Black powder, on the other hand, could easily turn into a lump under pressure and in damp conditions.

The gaps between the grains allowed oxygen to support combustion, making the burn rate more even and improving the powder's efficiency.

When a gun was fired, a considerable amount of unignited powder was blown out of the barrel along with the powdered propellant, which greatly increased its power.

The Chenla officials simply didn't understand any of this.

Though Xie Su was reluctant, he trusted Hong Buf, commander-in-chief of the Imperial Guard. If not for him, the powerful families of Phnom Penh would have been wiped out by Zhang Mingjiang long ago.

Zhang Mingjiang was a trusted general of Emperor Minh Mang of Vietnam. The emperor had appointed him governor-general of Chenla, where he was carrying out a policy of extermination and assimilation.

The old man in the middle spoke again.

"But a hundred taels of silver for each gun is simply too expensive. No matter how good the foreigners' weapons are, we can't afford to buy them. A few thousand guns won't be enough to make a difference against Nguyen Viet's army of a hundred thousand."

"Lord Ambrosius has three conditions."

"Let's hear them."

"First, they want us to set aside a township for them to live in. I've already arranged for people to handle it."

"Good. Chenla is vast and rich in resources. We can give them a township, or even a county." The old man nodded. He didn't think there was anything wrong with giving foreign residents a piece of Chenla's land, as long as they paid taxes.

"They also hope to build a church and worship their ancestors."

"Longing for home and honoring one's ancestors are only natural. It seems these Westerners aren't entirely uncivilized."

"Their leader wants to meet Her Highness the princess."

"Outrageous! How dare these foreigners be so insolent? This is the height of absurdity! How could Her Highness the princess show her face to a pack of barbarian foreigners?" The old man was so furious that his whiskers bristled.

The others at the table, however, weren't nearly as angry.

"His Majesty Ang Chan is still in Vietnamese hands. If we can bring him back, then not only could they meet the princess, we could even send the princesses to marry abroad," said Kuan Kim-kit, head of trade, who had been silent until then.

Grand Chancellor Palasu had wanted to reprimand the insolent scoundrel, but everyone around him had fallen silent, seemingly accepting Kuan Kim-kit's suggestion.

Palasu thought it over. The country was on the brink of ruin. What use were all these rules of etiquette?

"If we agree to these three conditions, how much can we bring the price down?"

"Thirty taels," Kuan Kim-pan replied.

The old man considered it briefly, then said, "Tell them we can give them a county. But the foreign guns must cost us fifty taels apiece."

"I'll do everything in my power. I won't let the grand chancellor or Chenla down," Kuan Kim-pan replied, his words brimming with righteous resolve.

Night, Phnom Penh, Dongqiao Restaurant.

"Now, I ask everyone with money to contribute money, and everyone with strength to contribute strength. Let us all face this national crisis together." Palasu raised his cup and drained it. "I am Chenla's grand chancellor. I'll start with two hundred thousand taels."

Two hundred thousand taels was an enormous sum in Chenla. Under Vietnamese exploitation, the Chenla treasury took in only thirty to fifty thousand taels of silver a year—not even enough to pay the soldiers' and officials' salaries. (At the time, the Great Qing took in forty million taels.)

Palasu had truly put up everything he had. But the figure was so staggering that no one answered for a long time. Their raised arms grew numb as they exchanged glances, waiting for someone else to speak up.

Unable to take it any longer, Kuan Kim-pan drained his cup.

"I'll contribute ten thousand taels of silver and ten thousand hu of rice."

Though Kuan Kim-pan was a second-rank official in Chenla and the Kuan family was one of its powerful clans, that was no small sum for his family.

Kuan Kim-kit then drained his cup as well.

"I'll match my elder brother: ten thousand taels of silver and ten thousand hu of rice."

After he spoke, Kuan Kim-kit and Kuan Kim-pan embraced and wept. This was almost all the wealth their family could put toward the cause. To give more, they would have to sell off their property.

After that, Xie Su, head of the Internal Affairs Office, pledged five thousand taels, while Hong Buf, commander-in-chief of the Imperial Guard, pledged one thousand.

What came next was absurd. The merchants, officials, landlords, and gentlemen pledged two hundred here, three hundred there. Worst of all, Deng Changbu, head of the Justice Office, offered only fifty taels.

Palasu was furious. Deng Changbu had taken bribes worth more than two hundred taels in a single go. Trembling, he said, "You lot of parasites! The country's affairs have fallen into such a state, and you can't go to the battlefield to kill the enemy, yet you're unwilling to contribute even a little of your wealth? Deng Changbu! How can you, head of the Justice Office, give only fifty taels?"

Deng Changbu had an excuse. He replied with disdain, "My annual salary should be one hundred and fifty taels, but now I'm only paid twenty a year. I've been an official for seventeen years, and Chenla still owes me two thousand two hundred taels."

Palasu was so enraged he nearly fainted. He felt, deep in his bones, the helplessness Chongzhen must have felt all those years ago.

Thanks to readers Yanhuo Daofan, Mr. More or Less, Tal Rasha Mage, and Xiaoyan r for their tips; and to Yanhuo Daofan, Yanwang Cser, Yuqi, OAA Likes Comics, and Xiaoyan r for their monthly votes, as well as to all the readers for their support.

The story's pacing may be a little slow right now. Should I speed things up?