Ch.82Internal Affairs (1)

“…For these reasons, the Khagan of the steppe will be succeeded by my heir Temujin, and afterward the principle of primogeniture will be followed.”

At my words, the khans of the steppe wore surprised expressions.

Traditionally, the Khagan of the steppe was determined through a Kurultai.

As the khans began to stir, Toghrul Khan and Dei-Sechen Khan, who stood beside me, stepped forward.

“I swear in the name of God and Tengri that I have no objection to this.”

“I too swear my support.”

With Toghrul and Dei-Sechen’s declarations of support, the murmuring among the khans began to subside.

Let me reiterate that currently the largest powers in Mongolia were the Khamag Mongol and the Keraites.

Among the other five tribes, the Tatars had been destroyed and absorbed by the Khamag Mongol.

The Merkits, who had shown hostility toward us, were thoroughly destroyed and eliminated, and the Naiman tribe was split in two—the Eastern Naimans disappeared entirely while the Western Naimans were effectively expelled from the Mongolian steppe.

Given these circumstances, it was difficult for the smaller tribes to oppose my will, which had gained the support of the Keraites and the Khongirad.

“If anyone has objections or opposing views, step forward now.”

As I said this, I looked at everyone.

The khans shook their heads, indicating they had no complaints.

“We will follow the will of the Senwo.”

“The Senwo’s will is the same as our own.”

Thus, I was able to gain everyone’s support.

Having secured the support I wanted, I made a hand signal.

A man who had been waiting came forward.

He took out a book and began recording my words.

“The Gurkhan, Khagan of the steppe, has declared that henceforth the Khagan of the steppe will be succeeded by the eldest son of the Borjigin clan as a principle, without a Kurultai.”

The man recording my words was none other than Hussein al-Kashgari.

He was a linguist I had acquired on my way back after attacking Khara-Khoto last summer.

After returning to Mongolia with him, I had instructed him to create a Mongolian language. Following my orders, Hussein combined Xiongnu and Khitan scripts to create a relatively simple new Mongolian script.

Thanks to this, we could now record laws that would become the legal code in Mongolian script.

“May I ask what the Uyghur is writing?”

At the khan’s question, I nodded.

“He is creating laws that will form the foundation of our legal code, following my orders.”

“What are laws?”

“They are commands established based on the steppe’s customs and my directives.”

This was the medieval era.

The words of those in power were essentially law.

Therefore, even without a legal code, laws could be changed through commands.

However, if an unwise person became the ruler, the nation’s discipline could become chaotic.

To prevent this, I intended to leave written records for future generations to follow.

While I was thinking about this, Elunka approached me.

“Great Khagan. As you commanded, we have gathered all the technicians from Western Xia.”

Since conquering Western Xia, I had instructed all khans to stop using the title “Senwo.”

The reason for abandoning this venerable title was to reduce confusion regarding titles.

More precisely, it was because of the reorganization of ranks while settling the succession issue.

The ruler of the Ulus was unified under the title of Khagan, and the princes below were called Khan.

The other khans would become Darughachi.

This was a word combining the Mongolian “Darugha,” meaning province or occupied territory, with the plural suffix “chi,” making it equivalent to a governor in modern terms.

The main reason for this reorganization was to turn the existing khans into officials under the control of the central government.

In actual Mongolian history, administrative powers were given to provincial commanders for direct governance of vast territories.

However, this autonomy eventually expanded over generations and affected the entire national administration.

Knowing this problem, I chose to quickly reorganize the khans as central officials from the beginning.

And unlike in the original history, I planned to create a dual system where administrative power was given but military command authority was directly appointed by the prince governing that region.

This way, unlike in the original history, the Darughachi would be less likely to influence the entire nation.

However, this was just my prediction, so I needed to continuously work to incorporate the Darughachi under central government control during my lifetime.

Anyway, apart from this, I had gathered the technicians of Western Xia through Elunka.

“Let’s move right away.”

I headed to the armory within Western Xia with Elunka.

Unlike Mongolia, Western Xia was a centralized state, so it had a national armory.

When I arrived, the Western Xia technicians bowed their heads, already intimidated.

I gave them a reassuring look and stood before them with children from the Ulus.

“Raise your heads.”

At the words translated by a Tangut merchant, the technicians followed the order.

I looked at them and spoke.

“You are now members of the Ulus and must work for the Ulus.”

The technicians immediately nodded.

“From now on, your job is to teach your skills to these children.”

This was why I had brought Mongolian children—specifically from the Merkit and Tatar tribes—to the armory.

Like the Italian apprenticeship system, I planned to place orphaned children as apprentices under Western Xia technicians to learn their skills.

In truth, it would have been easier for the Ulus to simply use the technicians directly without this trouble.

But taking the easy route would make it nearly impossible for the Ulus itself to grow.

For the future, I needed to sow these seeds now.

“You mean… teach our skills?”

The man who appeared to be the head of the armory bowed to me before asking.

“Yes. If you teach the children properly, you will be rewarded. If not, you will be punished.”

Skills weren’t something that could be resolved through force alone.

That’s why I prepared both carrot and stick.

“How… how will you determine whether we’ve taught well or poorly? May I… may I dare to ask?”

“It’s simple. Every year, we will hold a technical competition. Your apprentices will participate in this competition, and the apprentice who performs best, along with the technician who taught them, will receive a horse and twenty rolls of silk.”

By the standards of that time, twenty rolls of silk was enough to buy the largest house in Xingqing and still have money left over.

With a horse added on top, it meant that teaching an apprentice well would essentially make one rich.

“A competition…”

“So if we teach our apprentices well, we can become rich too?”

“That’s right.”

Seeing the technicians stirring, it seemed this proposal had precisely targeted their desires.

“Will you do it?”

The head of the Western Xia technicians immediately nodded at my question.

Then, as if there could be no doubt, he bowed with sparkling eyes.