Kingawa: The New Qin Empire

[Pedant]

This is…something of an odd world.
Over a period of nine thousand years, the people of the Central Valley on the southwest coast of Tortolia slowly but surely started on the road to domestication. Unlike the rest of the continent, however, across which the trinity of beans, squash, and maize spread like wildfire, a trinity of one animal and two plants made themselves known in the valley. The earliest of these were the kechen or grapes (珂萄, vitis californica); natural California grapes are quite small and tart, but around nine thousand years ago varieties started to be grown that were larger and sweeter. The invention of wine came not long after, which seems to have spurred the creation of advanced pottery techniques. Shortly afterwards--perhaps as little as seven thousand years ago--efforts were made to take a strain of the lokosh or tule reed (schoenoplectus acutus). This allowed for the conversion of the riverbanks of the Sacramento and San Joaquin into paddies, and is perhaps the most fundamental element of Native Kingawan society. The plant provides a reliable food source, as well as a source of fibre for construction--and for papyrus-like scrolls, upon which the famous Codices were written. Finally, the haloo (号鹿, ovis canadensis) or bighorn sheep was first herded around three thousand years ago, and takes up a lot of the grazing land in the valley. A reliable source of meat and a pack animal in a pinch, the haloo is smaller and fatter than its wild cousin.
These three together--combined with the early discovery of gold along the Sacramento, the open quarrying methods used to extract granite and marble from the hills, and the presence of a large field of meteoritic iron in Oregon--led to the development of a unique collection of cultures along the two rivers, Tortolia's only pre-Kurodan writing systems, gold-dusted mummies, and eventually the Bay Empire, which held for three hundred years and prospered...until the arrival of Kuroda Kiyoshi, of course. The story of the expansion of the New Qin Empire and the slow decay of the native Frenchmen (Kuroda's belief that he'd landed in France never quite went away) is a story for another time.
Oh, and add to that the fact that the Holy Roman Empire has the most extensive canals in the world, Mali has set up colonies in *Brazil, and Zoroastrianism has one heck of a big empire. Now it's an odd world.

 

[Arkenfolm]

This sounds positively mad and I immediately want to know more of the people along the Golden River.

 

[Pedant]

This sounds positively mad and I immediately want to know more of the people along the Golden River.

I'll see what I can do!
Keep in mind that I do not, I repeat do not, intend for the following portrayals to be racist or racially stereotypical in any way. They are present for the purpose of constructing a narrative with quite scarce resources available on the nature of the original cultures involved. Should there be any corrections that can be made based on accurate information, I will quite happily alter the narrative accordingly.

The Seven Nations
In many a timeline the people of California, if considered at all, are wonderfully diverse and yet tremendously underpopulated. Split not into tribes, as one researcher described it, but "tribelets," the pleasant climate and easy access to food usually means that most have no particular need to turn to agriculture, which at least in the early days leads to a shortage of vital nutrients. Let us say, then, that some unusual factors came into play--a decade-long blight on the land, perhaps, or overpopulation, or even the imposition of raiders from the east demanding sustenance. And from that we get a California too like most other "civilized" parts of the world, one with a higher population but perhaps an unhappier one, and certainly one with less diversity of people.
But still, across the Great Valley and just to the south there are still six peoples of some importance, those who have held kingdoms in the Valley at one time or another, providing more variety in ethnicity than one might expect.
The Yokuts lay claim to being the oldest of the civilizations to take off the ground, certainly the first to commit to tule farming full-time as opposed to hunting and gathering. Even today their valley is famous for its variety and abundance of grapevines, and for the scores and scores of bighorn sheep grazing in pasture by the river. (Of course, it's also famous for coccidioidomycosis, which slowed their progress a bit as they periodically collapsed from getting too populous and moving too much dirt around.) Yokuts provided the basic format for clan professions as well, copied all across the Basin. Chieftains come from eagle clans, messengers from dove clans, town criers from the magpie clans, clowns and scholars from the coyote clan, and so on. Yokuts are slightly darker-skinned than others in the Basin, and are stereotyped as slow, stolid folk.
The Pomo are the great competitors of the Yokuts, living along the Sacramento instead of the San Joaquin. Their claim to fame lies not in their agriculture, but in their metalworking. Gold, of course, is something of an obvious commodity; even after all this time it's still possible to literally pan for gold in the northern streams, and it's a rare chieftain who doesn't lie in his tomb painted with gold dust. The Pomo had their origins just to the north of the Bay (it's big enough that it doesn't actually need a moniker), but spread to the Sacramento River Valley in the 9th Century CE, displacing the Wintun peoples. The Pomo have perhaps the longest faces of the Seven Nations, and are known for being zealously religious; the sweat lodges of their lands are famed across the basin, and they have a reputation as excellent shamans and magicians.
The Miwok are the latest up-and-comers in the river basin. Their initial residence was on the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, branching up both sides of the river and down to the Bay. For the most part, their emphasis lay in trade, and well were they served by their location, as a major source of the olive shells all tribes used as currency. Only three hundred years previously, however, they have done what neither side of the delta could have accomplished and unified the tribes under their own rule. Now the capital of the Basin lies in Hulpu-mni, slightly to the south of where Sacramento is sited OTL, and their variety of logograph is the standard for hundreds of kilometres around and even up and down the coast. Miwok moieties are split between Land and Water groups; each has their own Great Chief, the Land Chief taking care of terrestrial agriculture and military features, while the Water Chief deals with riparian trade and seafood harvests. (Tule reed harvests are considered the purview of both.) Miwok tend to have slightly rounder faces than their surrounding cousins, and have a reputation for being tough bargainers, jumped-up newcomers, and perhaps too clever for their own good.
The Ohlone live to the south of the Bay, and at one time occupied the spot where *San Francisco lies OTL. Living sandwiched between the Yokuts, Chumash, and Miwok peoples, they were slow to adapt and survived as a kingdom largely because of their technological advancements in terms of boating. For a long time nobody could beat the Ohlone for their swift canoes made of tule, and by the time the technology for new redwood canoes was imported from the Chumash, they'd gotten their hands on them and had started long-term trading missions with the civilizations of Mesoamerica. They are also a major source of abalone shells; although there have been attempts by one empire or another to conquer them entirely, their neighbours tend to be wary of going too far, lest their conquest spark a major war that the other powers would be sure to side against them in. The Ohlone are fervent tattooists and ear- and nose-piercers; non-Ohlone seem to view the elaborate designs as their most important distinguishing feature, as well as the beards and moustaches that the men tend to cultivate. The symbols the Ohlone paint on their bodies when they wish for some event to occur have found much use in protective charms across the Basin. Ohlone are seen as…well, a little strange, really, a little too worldly-wise.
The Chumash and the Tongva aren't even part of the valley at all; they live south of the mountains, in the area were OTL *Los Angeles and *San Diego are located. Living in perhaps the perfect place for hunting and gathering, with food supplies always in abundant reserve and little to fight over, these two ethnicities only started developing "civilization" (i.e. warfare, adobe houses, written language, etc.) after prolonged contact with the Ohlone during the 3rd Century BCE. Neither contributes very much to the empires to the north; neither really needs to. That said, the Chumash are still ruled by the astronomer-priests from their 'antap cult, and have literally the best calendar system in the whole *California area, to the point where the empires of the Basin to the north often send their shamans down to learn from them. The Tongva, meanwhile, act as something of a go-between station for the Ohlone and Miwok merchants from the north, and the Aztecs and Tarascans of the south. Their settlements on the *Palos Verdes Peninsula, in particular, have together become a single city-like area, known informally as Iyáanga or Poison-Oak Place, and is home to a great many camps of people. Many of the folk living inland or further along the coast view their relatives in Iyáanga as effectively uncouth sell-outs, but they do get a lot more beads, iron, and tule stalks that way. For the most part they are still bound by the precept that their chiefs must provide for their people through food and other means; a surefire way to become a chief, therefore, is to make a fortune in Iyáanga, be it through interpretation, bargaining, sexual favours, or music.
The Wintun are perhaps the most widespread of any of the peoples of the Central Basin, and yet have the smallest population, and are the ones most removed from their original culture. Their homeland along the Sacramento was long ago subsumed into the more powerful Pomo empire, which used its trade connections to make the first iron weapons. And yet the Wintun prevail, spreading themselves across the Miwok Empire, their position made essential to local rulers by their custom and practices. Which custom, you may ask? The spread of their religion, naturally. If the Pomo keep Kuksu and the other five spirits alive in the Sacramento Basin, the Wintun are responsible for spreading the six deities to the rest of California. They are sworn to an oath to record and repeat matters faithfully wherever they are; it's a surefire way to get news across the whole of the known world, and they are paid well by all six of the other major peoples for their trouble. Not in land, of course; the Wintun refuse to "own" land, believing this to be an affront to their exile. But in every other kind of material wealth conceivable, they do quite well. Thankfully they also invest this in the communities where they "pass through", so that many a new temple school or irrigation system has been paid for by their donations. Wintun are known across the Basin for their stocky faces and prominent foreheads.

 

[Pedant]

The Glass Empire, Part I
a.d. XVI Kal. Sep. DCCLXXIII A.U.C./August 15th, 20 CE
Rome, Italia


"Exquisite work, truly," said the princeps, running his hands over the bowl.
Theocritus bowed as deep as he could. Cool air rose from the marble like smoke, pushing back against the heat outside.
"Oh, don't bother with that," snapped Tiberius. "I'm not going to hurt you for giving me something." A long finger made a circle along the rim. "Especially not something like this. A drinking bowl made of glass, yes?"
"Yes, Caesar," said the craftsman. "Crude as of yet, but I believe it can be made more detailed."
"More detailed, eh?" The princeps raised an eyebrow. "Is there anything else you've planned on?"
Honesty seemed best.
"I believe I've already accomplished something, Caesar," said the glassmaker. "If I may?"
Tiberius shrugged, and reached over to hand the bowl to a guard. The guard held it out.
Now. Smash it down. You know you'll be alright.
But maybe that wasn't the wisest idea, when the guards stood so close.
"Caesar," Theocritus said on a whim, "may I compliment you?"
Tiberius looked surprised–and a little annoyed. "You're asking to compliment me? Are all Ionians so ready to pander?"
Theocritus waited.
Finally the princeps sighed. "Yes, you may compliment me. What on?"
"As far away as Byzantium we have heard of your exploits in the field," Theocritus went on. "And of your care in governance and in keeping the people satisfied with their lot. But the biggest thing, to us, that you have managed to do is bring the Senate of Rome back to their old roles."
Tiberius scoffed. "That's the word, is it? I need new messengers. The Senate…" He paused. "The Senate, under My Father, grew somewhat complacent, ready to put aside the governance of empire as his role became stronger and stronger. I was chosen as his heir. And that meant governing people who had become used to someone else doing their work for them. There is no accomplishment, I promise you. Only endless frustration."
Theocritus was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Thank you, Caesar, for your honesty."
"No point in lying, is there?" said Caesar. "A little transparency can be useful." He chuckled. "At least in the right amounts. Put down too much at once, and like your marvellous glass, it will smash instantly, and we will be forced to gather the truth up in bits and pieces."
"If I may…"
"You're very free with your mays, son of Miltiades. No matter, it's a hot day and I grow insufferably bored."
"Honesty need not be fragile, Caesar. This bowl, now…I can see right through it. Holding it up to my face, you can see me. The truth is coloured, yes, by my own experiences, but you can see me as I stand. You can see my face, despite the story I present to you.
"Great Caesar, would it not be better to see the truth–and not need to risk it shattering? To state things clearly, and let the light in past one's shield?"
"If you're building up to a point here–"
CRASH.
The sound echoed across the hall, alongside Tiberius' shout of alarm.
The glass bowl was unbroken.
All was still–Caesar, the glassmaker, and the guards.
Finally, Tiberius said, in a hoarse voice, "Bring that to me."
One of the red-clothed guards reached down and picked up the bowl. Tiberius held it up.
"You'd better have a bloody good explanation," he said, "as to why you would mar something so precious as this--take the risk of destroying something as precious as this."
"Because, O Caesar," said Theocritus, "it is not marred permanently. If I may?"
Soundlessly the princeps gave him back the glass.
Theocritus pulled out the small hammer he had made for just such work. "The mixture is surprisingly easy, O Caesar," he said, as he gently tapped the bowl. "And yet nobody else in the world has thought of this. I came by it through the will of Hephaestus, and some stones from Phrygia Salutaris, but no other has made such glass as mine. I have sought–discreetly–across everywhere I could find. The secret is mine. This is my protection, O Caesar. I wish it to be yours also."
The glass was back in place. The bowl was perfect, shining a misty grey like smoke frozen in time.
"Not currency, then?" said Tiberius. "You do not see how this could replace gold and silver as a standard? A perfect glass that cannot be shattered?"
"Not currency, Caesar," said Theocritus. "Its value is great, yes–but its greatness is something you can use. Consider: the bowl is light, light as pottery. Stronger than iron it can be, against arrows. I have–prototypes, is the word in Greek, of the same glass, but better to see through. You could arm your guards with this and never worry about arrows to the face again. If you have a lattice, several pieces together like the scales on a tortoise, you could make a shield that would allow you clear sight without endangering your person. Rome's troops could be made stronger still against–"
"Enough!" The emperor raised a hand. His face was red. A small part of Theocritus thought: at least I go to the Asphodel Fields with my dignity.
"You say nobody else has discovered this," said Tiberius. "But that it is simple enough to make?"
Honesty again. Let it be your shield. "Yes, O Caesar," said the glassmaker. "If they have the resources of Rome."
Tiberius sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face. An old man, Theocritus realized. Sixty-two years old, made emperor at fifty-eight. By his age, my father and grandfather had passed away. Gods know if I'll make it that long.
Then the emperor said, "We'd have to start small, you understand. Sooner or later the secret will get out, but I'd like to try and study this first. You will work for me and for me alone, you understand? And for my son, Drusus. I trust him to be discreet on this. You will have all the materials you need, and all the workshops. And you and your apprentices, whoever you can trust with this secret, will see about making something…sturdier, for use in battle."
Theocritus' heart was pounding. He could barely keep his breath under control. "Yes, Caesar."
Tiberius leaned forward, and there it was–that spark in his eyes. It was a terrible thing, that Prometheus put fire in the hearts of men.
"This is an event I would not have considered possible in my lifetime," said the emperor. "And, with all honesty, I had not planned to let you leave here alive, with the way your magic glass could change everything we know. But I saw the strength with which you cast it down. It would be beyond foolish not to learn to use this for ourselves, and deny Rome a chance to become greater still."
The emperor smiled, a thin, wan smile that matched the filtered sunlight on the walls of the House of Augustus. "Welcome to government service, Theocritus the Byzantine. You'll be begging for Tartarus before the calends, I promise you."

 

[Pedant]

Kingawa: Europe, 1486 CE

The world had to change quite a bit as the California Basin prospered. Oh, mostly it remained similar; it was a stroke of luck that aided Californian societies out, after all, as much as agriculture was a stroke of luck in the Middle East. But a few things have been altered, and that's had some fairly major effects on the world at large.

The point of divergence for Europe came in 12 CE, when Tiberius arrived in Jerusalem after a stint on the Island of Rhodes. Compelled by his adopted father Augustus to find a wife, not only did he marry again, but adopted his wife's first son (she was a recent widower). The son, a boy called Yeshua, got into some trouble with local authorities, and after Tiberius went back to Rome to be crowned emperor he had to order his son to join him as opposed to being executed. Perhaps this good mood, brought on by the unorthodox marriage to a Jewish widow, persuaded Emperor Tiberius that the empire could afford to invest in new developments; it is in his reign that we first see signs of the famous bending glass (flexivitreus), among developments such as the yoked aeolipile and circumspector (the latter of great use in astronomical research). His nephew, Caligula, came to power…but his stepson Iesus was there as well, and when Caligula was assassinated Iesus came to power as the Emperor Judaeus.

Judaeus' reign was marked as a second golden age for Rome. Thirty years passed with the new emperor in power, a time where the emphasis on Eastern trade was expanded and a start made on reconquering the Bactrian empires. Technology expanded across the empire as well; the initial reforms made in Tiberius' day were spread across the world, although the secret of bending glass was kept as a state monopoly. In the meantime, the religious world was becoming increasingly simplified, as commoners and wealthy alike turned to the worship of a god simply called 'our father' or Paternoster, an apparent deification of Tiberius with a curious mixture of the principles Iudaeus had tried to apply to his own movement back in Judea. Paternoster, said Judaeus, was a common god for all, the logical next step in Roman religion; they took the gods of others for their own, but here was a god who embodied all of them together, so every god they brought was but a single aspect of Paternoster given to Rome in their steady conquest of the world.

Judaeus died at the age of sixty-eight, leaving behind his son Maximus and his great-nephew Tiberius Pius to continue the dynasty and the worship of Paternoster. And the religion endured, through the shift in dynasties to the plagues and famines of the 10th Century, through to the spread of the Franks and their new and highly monotheistic religion in the 12th Century and the loss of most of the empire.

Today, Europe is divided between four major powers.

1. The furthest to the west is the Western Roman Empire, no longer with a capital in Rome but in Saldua, in Hispania Major. Still ruled by an emperor–albeit one chosen by the New Senate, itself composed of two castes of priest-politicians and warrior-governors–the Western Roman Empire still holds to the worship of Paternoster, his many incarnations providing a way for conquered peoples to integrate their religion into the main, as has been the case for nearly fifteen hundred years. People are limited by the positions their ancestors held, and three broad castes of patrigions, eguestrions, and poblars have become the norm, with families bouncing between the ranks as they are able. Romania now stretches from Lusitania in the west to Dalmatia in the east, as far north as Aquitania and Noricum and as far south as Mauretania Carthagensis. Their calendar is the old Roman model, and the starting date is the founding of Rome; the year is currently 2239 AUC (ab urbe condita). The language is Western Latin, with some elements of Classical Latin still found in government but the popular language becoming more and more prominent. Romania is especially known for its technological innovations; although they lost their monopoly on flexivitreus when they lost the East, they've been making up for it with copious amounts of copper, iron, tin, and salt, and various weapons and inventions made therefrom.
2. The central lands belong to the Empire of Franks or Frankdom, ruled by an elected leader–albeit from the cheiftain families–in various capitals across the land. Germanic and Slavic peoples alike (the latter given more flack and less land than the former) are bound under the worship not of Paternoster but Ferga, believed to have been founded by Roman priests fleeing persecution under the Punicean Dynasty. Ferga is but one god, with Audinn as His prophet, and He promises great protection for all those who follow Him; those who follow a heathen religion must pay an algeld to live in lands held by His followers. The Emperor of the Franks has taken for himself some of the choicest farmland in the north, from the *Netherlands to *Kiev, alongside parts of the *Scandinavian Peninsula, and anywhere you travel you can find people reading from the Bjódha or Book of Commandments, written in Runic script. Their calendar starts with the founding of the new religion in a time of great uncertainty, and follows the old lunisolar calendar; the current year is 1111 After the Exodus, a time of great religious significance. Frankdom is known best for its long-haul trade, from the almost-mystical islands of Albion down to the Mahachandran Empire, and for various advances in navigation and astronomical calculation afforded therefrom. (It makes a nice break fro all those witch-burnings.)
3. In the far east lies the New Persian Empire, locally Eran, ruled now by a single Shahanshah with all lands under his control. Thoroughly Zoroastrian and highly advanced, the people of Eran are an eclectic mix of Greek, Persian, Muslim, and Ethiopian, all believing in the teachings of Zoroaster and following the court in Bizantabad, between the provinces of Grayikastan and Anatolistan. Eran stretches from *Anatolia and the *Arabian Peninsula down to *Egypt and *Ethiopia, then east through *Iran proper and north to *Turkmenistan. Naturally it has designs on India, and on the Roman provinces in West Africa, but most of its trade deals (and periods of conflict) are with the land they call Frengistan–which in the Far East has become conflated with the Romans, as the "true successors" to Rome itself. The calendar used is Persian in origin, dating from the (assumed) birth of Zoroaster; the current year is 2024. Eran is best known for its complicated mathematics, as well as the introduction of a new numerical system straight from Bharata itself.
4. Finally, a strange power, which only ever had minimal contact with the other three, is that of Albion, never actually ruled by the Romans per se but apparently by the last vestige of the Prefecture of Gaul, the armies of which escaped to the islands in the 5th Century. Setting up their own kingdom was difficult enough, but by the 8th Century CE they seem to have extended their reach over the entire island. It's something of a pity, then, that the island next door, aided in part by weapons and machines from Romania, was able to launch a series of raids and conquer most of the place by the 12th Century. Now under the rule of the High King in Tara, Albion is a strange land, where the gods of Eiru and Alba alike live alongside a strange sect of Paternoster. The High King's line is unbreakable; nobody is allowed to kill him, for fear that it will allow the Franks to conquer the place. So local lords jockey for power to become the next best thing, which is the King of Alba proper. Albion is isolated, speaking Goidelic as a government language and Albic (a Brythonic-Latin creole) as a trade one, and of little interest to the monotheistic powers of the south except as a place of conquest. And yet Albion itself has been expanding its reach, first to Talamh Oighir in the far north and now to Talamh ar Iarthair in the far west…and stories are returning to Europe. The race is on…

Naturally there are some spots subject to contestation. *Normandy and the *Scandinavian Peninsula are among them; the Franks believe they won them fair and square, but the damned Celts of Albion keep pushing for colonization, mainly upstart Albans who fancy a bit of growth in the hopes of becoming King of the Isle. Nobody's particularly interested in how the Sápmi and Suomi feel about this, but then again nobody's particularly concerned with how the Greeks feel, torn between Romania and Eran as they are. Northern *France–still called Galla by Romania–has been subject to no fewer than six different conquests and divisions over the past 900 years, making it one of the hotspots of contention.
It's also not to say that Europe is completely separated by these blocs. There have been intermarriages between Romans and Franks, usually with conversions either to Paternoster or Frega. Jews never really took off after Emperor Judaeus effectively made them a client state as opposed to a full province (Judea is still an important part of Eran to this day); their role in European history has been filled by the Rem, Egyptians who were scattered after the Eranian reconquest, who worship very specific aspects of Paternoster and circumcise their boys (and are mostly not allowed to own land, due to the Imperial Edicts of Tiberius Pius after Egyptian priests led a rebellion in the early 2nd Century).

Overall, however, these are the divisions and ways of the four great powers of Europe--the powers that in the East are known either as the Qin Dynasty, or France, or both, depending on when the last time was that people actually spent any time there.

 

[Pedant]

Bunmei Era Year 18, Yayoi 4/April 9th, 1486
Petlenuc (37º47'55" N 22º25'48"W)

"Tell me again," said Kalmanu.
It was a warm enough night, but the interior of the granite pyramid was always too cool. A fire burned in the centre of the room, smoke curling up through the central skylight while burning reeds lit the rest of the large hall. Enough light for Kalmanu, at least, to see Tupi, of the local Salmon clan and thus part of his own Water Moiety. Tupi was from one of the wealthier fishermen's clans, and boasted often of his redwood canoe, bought for many shells from the Great Island People to the north.
Now, though, he looked worried.
"It is like a canoe, or a barge," he said again, slowly. "It is only a little to the west of the village. But it is big, much bigger than any barge ever built. It is like a hill, floating on the water."
Kalmanu tilted his head to the side. "A hill?"
"Yes, Water Chief," said Tupi, using the title given to officials approved by the capital in Hulpu-mni. "With three great trees, branching forward with long white leaves. But the hill is made of wood, Water Chief."
"I see." Kalmanu looked down at his documents again.
"And there were people aboard, Water Chief," added Tupi.
Kalmanu started. "What?"
Tupi looked nervous.
"Speak up!" snapped Kalmanu. "What did these people look like?"
"P-pale, Water Chief," stammered the boastful fisherman. "Faces like the moon."
Kalmanu sighed.
"You may go now."
Tupi bowed, nervously, then left as quickly as he could while walking backwards.
Kalmanu sighed, and tried to concentrate on the scrolls. It was getting late, and the pictograms were becoming annoying. More traffic on the river meant more trouble for the tule paddies, and who was the one who had to deal with that? Why, the chief of the Water Moiety, of course. Tribute for Hulpu-mni and the Duarchy was due, and so was the annual fee required for the gift-giving ceremony with the Yokuts to the south, in exchange for this tidy piece of land and control of the bay. (To be fair, they apparently paid rent for some village to the east, so that was all okay in the Duarchs' scrolls.) The corvée had to be set up, taxes paid in labour or bought off with shells. (Too many people had access to the damn shells down here, so the toll was a bit higher. And a good thing too, or things would never get built.) And that was his responsibility.
And now a giant hill had appeared on the water, topped by trees with white leaves. With people on it.
Clearly, this needed investigation. But not by him, not if he could help it. People could mean enemies, and enemies were the Land Moiety's job. Sapata could handle this one.

* * *

Would it be entirely fair on Kuroda Kiyoshi to call him a fool?
Certainly the man had done what no other Japanese sea captain had managed before, and discovered a new coastline. His island home's Treasure Fleet, seeking to carve out a tributary empire in the west in the manner of the Tiefeng Emperor in China, had been blown as far off course as it was possible to go. Discipline would be maintained, of course, no matter how long the voyage. But the Treasure Fleet could only go so far.
Was it unreasonable, then, that when the lookout cried out that land was ahead of them at last, he cheered and whooped with the rest of his men? For here, gleaming in the sunset, was a paradise compared to the hard months at sea, green hills and sparkling waters. When they landed, there were no people around–but in the near distance they could see a town, a great stone pyramid topped with gold rising above the strange conical houses. And as the sun set, the fog on the water itself gleamed yellow, golden mist floating above the surface and running between the hills like a river of light. Primitive temples, topped with gold, on a golden river! How could this not be the fabled Buddha-Flower of the West, where the Qing Empire had fled–and whom they might yet conquer, a testament to the Sun Isles' power that even China would have to respect?
But Kuroda–to use his family name, as is only polite–was a man not much accustomed to long-winded sentiment, at least in words. In his ship's log, the notes from which his famous Journey to the East would be compiled, he wrote only:

Year 18, Yayoi 4. Have reached the other end of the world, but the men are tired. Tonight we rest, and those who are able will restock what they can from the waters, which are full of fish. Tomorrow morning we visit the town built around a golden pyramid, and seek the leader of the local Frenchmen to ask for tribute.