Chapter Two: The Great Qin and the Great Roman Empire of Uluos

At the entrance of the Empress Temple, a cleric was already waiting for Guo Kang. Soon, he was led to the office of the Great Patriarch.

Inside, the Grand Lama Wang wore the patriarch’s crown and held a whisk, directing a young man to pack up some belongings.

“Blessings of the Arhat Heaven!” Upon seeing Guo Kang enter, Grand Lama Wang greeted him with a smile. “Young Master Guo, you look radiant—have you encountered some good fortune?”

“Nothing much, just practiced a bit longer,” Guo Kang replied, ignoring the overly Christian-flavored greeting and resisting the urge to ask where Wang had learned it from. He simply waved his hand. “Master Wang, did you call me here for something?”

“The emperor assigned Tuo Huan Taiji to draft the state letter, but I’ve seen his attempts—they’re really quite inadequate. You know my own scholarly level isn’t high; I’m anxious but can’t help much,” Wang said frankly. “Among us, you, the young general, are the most cultured and familiar with the Ming dynasty. I think it’s better if you handle it.”

“Master Wang, that’s not appropriate,” Guo Kang shook his head decisively, passing the troublesome task back. “Trade with the Ming dynasty is the most promising source of wealth for the Roman Empire’s future. It’s a matter of great importance, which is why the Crown Prince himself is overseeing it. I am but a foreign official; how could I meddle in such affairs without permission?”

“Moreover, international matters are too complex for an inexperienced junior to manage well,” he added. “It’s not that I don’t want to help—it’s simply beyond my abilities.”

“...Uh.” Grand Lama Wang was momentarily taken aback, then sighed helplessly. “The young general is meticulous and prudent. It’s I who was too hasty.”

“Oh—” Wang shook his whisk and lamented, “In the past, working with General Guo was straightforward and direct. Perhaps back then, with the state’s system still imperfect, none of us cared much for such subtleties.”

You’re just taking advantage of my foster father’s honesty. If I were like him, I’d probably be fooled into working for nothing, Guo Kang thought bitterly.

This old sly fox was clearly trying to use his age and foster father against him. But Guo Kang was prepared.

“Confucius said, ‘If one is not in the position, one should not interfere in its affairs.’ My Guo family descends from a noble Central Plains lineage. In past generations, conditions were limited, so emergencies required flexibility. Now that the state system is established, we must abide by proper procedures,” Guo Kang replied calmly, bowing slightly. “Master Wang, this matter will have to trouble you.”

Grand Lama Wang, clearly no Confucius, was momentarily speechless.

“Ah! You’re not like your godfather, but you’re more like your godmother,” Wang said, tossing the whisk onto the table with resignation. “I’m in the wrong this time, but I really have no choice. For Tuo Huan Anda’s sake, please lend a hand?”

“Oh, by the way, I have a few cases concerning your family,” Guo Kang considered, then proposed, “If I help you resolve them, will you do me a favor in return? If Tuo Huan’s draft goes poorly, the Khan’s court will gossip that I’m incompetent, unable even to assist the Taiji properly, unfit to be Great Patriarch.”

Guo Kang and Wang had dealt with each other many times and had witnessed negotiations between his foster mother and Wang. Though Wang was thick-skinned, when it came to this, he wouldn’t bluff.

As Great Patriarch, Wang was responsible not only for religious matters but also for gathering intelligence from subordinate dioceses.

Especially in a place like the capital, where foreign envoys and merchants frequently came and went, and nobles from across the Khanate often gathered, with the local Greeks notoriously rebellious, constant vigilance was necessary. The church operated independently, with its own network for gathering news, providing significant assistance in this regard.

Many of the minor rumors circulating in the city were collected by Wang’s side. Guo Kang even suspected that in ancient times, Roman emperors appointed trusted eunuchs as patriarchs partly for this intelligence role.

However, if it were truly important, Wang should have already reported it to the Khan’s court or at least informed Guo Kang’s foster parents. Calling him in suggested it wasn’t that urgent.

Correspondingly, helping Tuo Huan shouldn’t be a big problem. Perhaps, as Wang said, it was simply that the two lacked sufficient cultural knowledge.

After some thought, Guo Kang decided to probe.

“I’m no match for my foster mother’s wisdom; I only understand some broad principles,” he first clarified, then asked, “What trouble has arisen this time?”

“The usual messy affairs,” Wang sighed with relief when Guo Kang seemed willing to respond. He called to a young man working on a ladder in the next room. “Wu Han, bring over the confiscated items.”

Hearing this, Wu Han climbed down from the ladder leaning against the bookshelf. He approached the table and took out several booklets, handing them to Guo Kang with a respectful bow.

He was agile, with several calluses on his hands—evidently from years of wielding weapons. Guo Kang thought he might have seen him recently in his father’s staff.

Foster father Guo’s headquarters recruited many talented young men yearly. Outstanding ones were recommended to serve as clerks or guards at the Khan’s court, acting as reserve officials. Even before taking the capital, the Han dynasty lords of the Khanate prepared talent this way. After the fierce Anda War, it became a vital selection channel.

Wu Han was likely one of those talents recruited and recommended by the Guo family, so it was no surprise he knew Guo Kang.

---

“The quantity is increasing,” Wang commented while they greeted each other. “The Greeks have learned printing faster than we expected.”

“More of that... indecent stuff?” Guo Kang asked.

Greeks, printing, and the Guo family—without opening the booklets, he already knew what they contained.

As Wang said, printing was a recent technology here. The Greeks learned it from Eastern visitors but used it for frivolities. The most popular printed materials were local erotic literature.

Of course, if it were only that, Guo Kang wouldn’t complain. Wang had noted that in Han cities, similar things happened—across all cultures and eras, the most beloved and profitable books were always of this kind.

The real problem was that his family members frequently appeared as prominent characters in these books.

Though adopted and even from another world, the Guo couple treated him as their own, and Guo Kang was deeply grateful. Seeing the Greeks’ antics, he found it very troublesome.

Sighing, he opened one booklet.

Sure enough, after a few pages, familiar faces appeared.

Foster father Guo, with his heroic and vigorous appearance and widely known heroic deeds, was the Greeks’ favorite figure in these erotic tales, endlessly entwined in romantic banter with various male leads.

Guo Kang pondered for a long time and decided not to mention this to the others, especially not his foster mother or eldest sister. But he had no good solution.

“What does Master Wang think should be done?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Wang teased, then turned to Wu Han.

“I think... we should find a chance to teach them a lesson?” Wu Han was caught off guard but answered.

“If the Greek citizens feared punishment, we wouldn’t still be catching people now,” Wang shook his head. “These folks don’t even fear the emperor. They’re no ordinary troublemakers and definitely can’t be controlled.”

“So, what do we do?” Wu Han was clearly unprepared, looking dumbfounded.

“What is our church for?” Wang asked.

“To tend the sheep!” Wu Han stood straight and replied loudly.

“No, to tend the flock on behalf of the Lord,” Wang corrected unhappily, smacking him with the whisk. “Have you studied or not? How can you get such a professional term wrong?”

“Remember, we must guide the faith!” Wang reiterated. “This land of Europa is deeply religious; even popular books touch on religious themes. Our church must review these works to prevent heretical ideas from spreading and corrupting the faithful. Understand now?”

“Understood, understood. Master Wang is the wise one,” Wu Han nodded quickly, though his face showed lingering confusion.

Wang seemed satisfied with his attitude and didn’t press further. Adjusting his patriarchal crown and flicking his whisk, he beckoned Guo Kang to follow him out.

“Master Wang, will this work effectively?” Guo Kang remained uneasy.

On one hand, the Greeks were notoriously troublesome; on the other, the church’s efficiency was questionable. This system inherited from the Eastern Roman Empire, which in the West had developed a sophisticated bureaucracy.

But bureaucracy’s flaws were all present here as well.

Wang’s church orders might not be popular among Greek clerics and could remain stuck in endless paperwork and circular directives. By the time his foster father’s booklets finished serializing, they might still be out of control.

“I have my own clever plan, young master. No need to worry,” Wang said confidently. “You just need to look after things for Tuo Huan Taiji.”

Tuo Huan was an old acquaintance of Guo Kang’s and the only legitimate son of the Roman Khan’s emperor. The empress had long delayed giving birth; this sole son was cherished from childhood and kept close at all times.

---

Later, the emperor realized that constantly rushing about with rough soldiers wasn’t ideal for the boy’s upbringing. So, in recent years, Tuo Huan was sent to study alongside others in the library beside the Empress Temple.

His study was on the second floor of that building. Wang and Guo Kang, familiar with the place, arrived at this spacious room.

Two Serbian attendants stood guard at the door. Judging by their attire, they were junior officers of the Qièxuē army, officially part of the famed hostages’ troops.

Of course, by the Christian calendar, it was already the 15th century, and there were no real Qièxuē anymore. They existed only in name and had long ceased to be an elite fighting force. The hostages served as attendants and did menial tasks.

In theory, only the Khan’s personal guards were called Qièxuē, but the last proper Qièxuē unit belonged to Khagan Möngke.

Möngke died confusedly on the eastern battlefield; his younger brother Kublai declared himself Khan. Many Mongol nobles believed Möngke’s youngest brother Ariq Böke was the rightful heir.

When Kublai dispatched the Qièxuē army, they escaped during a funeral and defected to Ariq Böke.

Though Kublai, with Han troops, eventually defeated Ariq Böke, the Qièxuē, a legacy of Genghis Khan, vanished.

Finally, the Han lords raised a new military guard for the Yuan dynasty.

The old Qièxuē, nominally restored, lost their combat role, doing palace chores and competing with eunuchs for work, mainly serving as a means for noble youths to gain experience.

The Roman Qièxuē were similar. The Purple Tent Khanate was somewhat informal; after becoming an empire, they formed this army for appearances. It mostly consisted of service personnel.

Besides the capital, there were nomadic territories and palaces, so the Roman Qièxuē’s tasks were even more varied.

Later, a French traveler suggested dividing the Qièxuē into two groups: one newly recruited in the capital, mainly urban youth responsible for guard duty, cleaning, cooking, and serving tea—called the young Qièxuē; the other, original nomadic herders from the steppe, tasked with tending the Khan’s sheep—the old Qièxuē.

Each had clear duties and performed well, greatly improving the Qièxuē’s quality.

The two guards standing at the door were typical young Qièxuē, though their family origins were unknown.

They notified inside, then opened the door and invited Wang and Guo Kang in.

As Guo Kang entered, a tall figure suddenly lunged at him, shouting, “My dear Anda! I’ve missed you so much!”

He struggled to push the overly enthusiastic Tuo Huan aside.

A small boy sat quietly in the corner, awkwardly watching.

“Oh, this is my cousin, Constantine of the Palaiologos family. My mother says he’s old enough to study with us,” Tuo Huan explained to Guo Kang.

“Ah... hello...” Guo Kang barely recovered, greeting briefly before turning to Tuo Huan. “What happened to make you so excited?”

“The state letter—we’re having real trouble drafting it,” Tuo Huan said helplessly. “Father Khan wants me to use a style favored by the Ming court to build relations, but I don’t know how. I have to find someone to help.”

“You came to me, but you should consider whether I’m capable. Most of what I know are unreliable rumors,” Guo Kang complained. “Well, I’ll do my best. Show me what you’ve written so far...”

At the desk sat another young man, scratching his head, with a draft before him. Seeing this, he turned the paper to Guo Kang, showing the beginning line: “To the Great Qin, Great Rome, Ulus Baise Khan, addressed to Dunta Ulus Zhu Tianping Hehan.”

No more followed.

“This isn’t ‘a bit difficult’—you haven’t written anything at all!” Guo Kang was at a loss for words.