Kublai Khan Declares War on Goddamn Water

’’’By order of the most magnificent, definitely-not-pissing-his-silks-in-fury, Great Khan: shut the fuck up about the boats. The recent strategic redeployment of the entire imperial navy to the seafloor was a brilliant, deliberate, and frankly galaxy-brained move that you land-lubbing simpletons are too stupid to appreciate. The official report is in, and it’s very clear: this wasn’t a defeat. It was an Unscheduled Submarine Inspection.

According to a scroll we definitely didn’t just write, “Report on the Successful Test of Ocean’s Capacities to Absorb Naval Assets,” the Great Khan’s armada was sent not to conquer those churlish islanders in Japan, but to test the structural integrity of the Pacific. For science. And for the glory of the Empire, obviously. Rumors that 140,000 of our finest were lost in a big salty oopsie are treasonous fake news. Our brave warriors are merely engaged in advanced, long-term underwater reconnaissance. Any messages in bottles washing ashore that say, “Help, it is very wet down here,” are forgeries by unemployed calligraphers with a sick sense of humor.

The Japanese, those absolute drips, are crowing about some “divine wind.” Divine? Please. It was a standard-issue Tuesday typhoon. We’ve seen worse blow through a court eunuch’s robes after a bad batch of fermented mare’s milk. The historical record—specifically, the recently discovered (and currently very damp) diary of Admiral Dongbu, found clutched in his cold, dead hand—clearly states his last words were, “Huh, that cloud looks angry. Well, I’m sure the man who conquered all of China knows more about naval strategy than a literal goddamn hurricane.” What a testament to his faith in the Khan’s peerless genius!

Of course, there was the second time. After the first “hydro-dynamic stress test” was deemed a roaring success (the ocean passed, our fleet didn’t), the Khan, in his infinite wisdom, decided to double down. Because if at first, you don’t succeed, maybe you didn’t throw enough poor bastards at the problem. This time, the ships were built with extra-strong paper-mache and prayers, and the sailors were given stern instructions to “breathe less water.” The ocean, apparently a creature of habit and with a wicked sense of irony, responded with an even bigger hissy fit. The official dispatch from the one survivor, found clinging to a particularly optimistic barrel of sake, simply read: “glub glub glub glub FUCK.”

So let it be known that there was no failure. The Mongol Empire simply chose to reclassify the Pacific Ocean as an enemy combatant. Our armies will now focus on more manageable foes, like mountains, deserts, and the concept of humility. All maritime travel is hereby banned, and any subject caught looking wistfully at a puddle will be transferred to the cavalry. The Khan is not mad. He’s just disappointed. In the entire concept of liquid. And if you hear a high-pitched screaming coming from the Forbidden City, it’s just the wind. Definitely the wind.’’’