Chapter 78

Henri IV, King of France and Navarre.

He was a man possessed of such flexible thinking that, to become the King of France, he had changed his faith as one might change a pair of shoes.

Now that he had declared, “I am Catholic,” and seemed to be winning the civil war, the Papacy, though grinding its teeth in frustration, had little choice but to revoke his excommunication and recognize him as the true king of France.

Even the Spanish had begun to slowly withdraw their forces from his territory after signing a peace treaty, though pro-Spanish factions still lurked in the shadows, active in every corner of society.

For the moment, the wars within France were over.

At long last, he had become the one and only sovereign of the lands of France and the people who lived upon them.

“His Majesty, Henri IV, by the grace of God, King of France and Navarre.”

A knowing smile graced Henri IV’s lips as he gazed out upon the courtyard of the Palace of Fontainebleau, the very ground on which he stood.

This palace, too, shall be remade to my liking, he mused. To the west, I will erect a grand pavilion, and the eastern wing shall be torn down and rebuilt entirely. I envision splendid, elegant gardens, a stately canal, and a pond teeming with every manner of fish, their scales flashing in the sun.

Because this is my palace.

My domain.

My kingdom.

…But as his thoughts reached that triumphant conclusion, the king’s smile faltered, ever so slightly.

The reality of his situation crept back in—the traitors stirring in every province, the countless figures whose influence he had to navigate and whose moods he had to appease.

He had to take care of his Protestant comrades who had followed him for so long (only to be betrayed by his conversion).

He also had to find a way to embrace the new Catholic subjects who now served him.

And somehow, he needed to drive out those damnable Spanish spies… though he knew that was a distant dream.

If only wealth would spring forth for the royal family from some unexpected quarter, as it had for the English.

Then, he would truly be happy.

Yes. That was it.

His previous attempt to make proper contact with Virginia had failed. At the time, he had been too preoccupied with watching the English. The subsequent expedition he sent had failed to endure the harsh terrain and the strange, debilitating diseases of the region.

But now, he had breathing room again.

Was it not the perfect time to establish a foothold somewhere suitable in the Americas and prepare to slowly open trade with that native Emperor?

The thought reignited a spark in Henri’s eyes.

I am the King of France. This kingdom must be entirely mine.

The results of the last expedition… well, they weren’t entirely without merit. He could entrust the task to them again.

Hmm, but not my uncle, he corrected himself. He was far too skeptical about the existence of both England’s colony and the native Emperor.

Instead, sending his nephew, the one with a more flexible mind, should yield better results…

With this in mind, Henri de France summoned Samuel de Champlain.

Soon, a single ship set sail for the Americas.

Headed… north.

Quite a bit farther north, in fact.

This deviation was due to the contents of a letter from His Majesty, the King of France, delivered personally to Samuel de Champlain.

—”Avoid the lands previously identified as the native Emperor’s territory.”

Indeed.

Since England was reaping enormous profits from its exclusive trade with this Emperor, it was only prudent to avoid provoking them by approaching the Emperor carelessly. Furthermore, even setting England aside, it was uncertain whether the Emperor would welcome Frenchmen who ventured too close to his domain.

Thus, Samuel embarked for the New World, charged with the momentous tasks of establishing a trading post for the fur trade with the Native Americans (Natifs américains, a term that had become fashionable thanks to the English)¹ and laying the groundwork for future diplomatic relations with their Emperor.

And there…

“We… are subjects of Emperor Nemo! We… with Uro-pean he not permit…” a native man struggled to articulate, before another corrected him.

“European.”

“European! We not trade with European or… give them land. No gift!”

“…”

“…”

“W-we…”

“I understand,” Samuel finally said.

“Eh, huh?”

The natives repeated the clumsy, broken English sentences, their delivery halting and uncertain. For a moment, Champlain wondered if this was some English trickery—whenever things went awry, that was always a strong possibility. He stayed for an extended period, conversing through a flurry of gestures and mimes, but it became clear that they understood the meaning of their words perfectly.

“H-How can this be? The last time we were here…” one of his men whispered.

“Hush. Just wait,” Samuel commanded.

“…”

“I… I need a moment to think.”

This location was a considerable distance from the place where they had previously met Usamequin, the chief who claimed to be a subject of Nemo.

And yet… this place, too, was now claimed as ‘his’ territory?

“…”

His uncle and the other fur traders had been complaining incessantly about the sudden change in the natives’ attitude. Could it be…

“We head north! Immediately!” Samuel declared.

“Even farther north from here, sir?”

“His Majesty’s orders were to avoid conflict with England or the native Empire! If anyone has an objection, I will personally arrange for you to present it to the king upon our return!”

“…”

“…”

“We head north!”

However.

“Th-This is the land of Nemo…”

Here, too.

“We are the Emperor’s… sub-jects… Is that right?”

And over there as well.

The story was the same everywhere he went.

Tribes that had been warring with each other for generations, and even those so distant they had no contact, all spoke the same name.

Nemo.

Nemo.

Nemo.

“…Captain, what do we do?”

Samuel, his lips pale and bloodless, scanned his surroundings.

Here… there was nothing but snow in every direction.

“Ne…mo?” he asked a local man.

“Yes. Have you heard the name?”

The Inuit man glanced at the Frenchmen, who were trembling violently in the biting cold, before snapping his fingers in recognition and opening his mouth.

“Ah, you mean our Great Chief?”

“…”

“…Captain, what in God’s name do we do now?”

“…”

W-what… what in the world…

How could his territory have expanded this far?

A deathly pallor washed over Samuel’s face.

Whether it was from the relentless cold or from something else entirely, he could not say.

***

“…How far did you say it has spread?”

“The last time I was able to confirm… ah… it had reached this point.”

“…”

The area Vicente indicated on the map encompassed the entire northeastern coast of North America.

So this is why Raleigh can’t even rest, running back and forth between the north and England. He has too many ‘members’ to deliver gifts to now.

Well, it had certainly resolved our trade deficit in one fell swoop… but… uhm…

This was ‘far’ more successful than I had anticipated.

No, it was too successful.

I had no idea who to deliver gifts to, or to what extent. Already, three tribes had reached the ‘Diamond Tier.’

Wh-what is this?

Seriously, what is going on?

“Truly… astounding! This is…”

Don’t look at me, I didn’t know either.

It was clear I had once again thought in modern terms, underestimating the impact. In the end, whether it was a social game that exploded in popularity on Kakao or Facebook in the 2010s, or one of the many vicious multi-level pyramid schemes that could never be eradicated from the world, they were all like a highly contagious epidemic.

People in the 21st century have been exposed to these phenomena so often that we’ve developed some immunity, but for people of the past encountering it for the first time, it must have been utterly devastating.

Well… of course, we aren’t 21st-century pyramid schemers, so it’s not really a problem. There would be no issues with forced purchases or hoarding. I also deliberately avoided creating stark, visible differences between the tiers.

Most importantly…

Unlike a Ponzi scheme, which can only end by taking everyone’s money and running, we have a sound and sustainable business model.

For one, we have the limitless resources produced by my farm.

And for the resources that even my farm can’t cover…

There is Europe.

More specifically, there is England.

***

In London’s Whitehall Palace, Queen Elizabeth Tudor, Queen of England and—in the protagonist’s private thoughts—President of Virginia’s Luxury Goods Procurement Subcontractor, stood before the main gate. 

Walter Raleigh, the ‘Saint of London’ and ‘Ambassador of the New World,’ stood there. Of course, she, a monarch, had not come out of her court to the main gate to greet a mere subject. Nor was Baron Raleigh foolish enough to summon the Queen. He knew that his power and authority came from her.

The reason she was here was not, strictly speaking, because Raleigh had summoned her. The countless courtiers of her court who had flocked to her side, mouths agape, had not been summoned by Raleigh either. They had come out because Raleigh could not go in. More accurately, because the things Raleigh had brought with him could not go in.

“These are the trade goods that His Majesty the Emperor of the New World has bestowed upon me this time.”

A mountain of crates cast a shadow before the palace. Everyone was speechless, their mouths just opening and closing. The Shine Muscats? The Black Sapphires and other grapes? They were still sweet and delicious. The popularity of Shine Muscats in England showed no signs of waning. But they were fruit. The aluminum? It was still a precious metal that received everyone’s fervent attention. Light, yet sturdy, with a mysterious luster, it was worthy of everyone’s love. But it was a rare object, available only in small quantities. And it was unfamiliar to many. The countless other trade goods, too, for various reasons, mostly just satisfied the demand within England.

Of course, Elizabeth had been able to raise vast sums of money from her many nobles, but the flow of that money was confined within England. Basically, it was a structure where England would import a massive amount of luxury goods from Virginia, and Virginia would in turn buy coffee and other various items from England. The only one making a clear profit here was Elizabeth, who was conducting a kind of intermediary trade between her own nobles and Virginia. For the English national community as a whole, they could barely balance their trade budget.

However. Furs are different. Coral and various gems are different. They do not rot or spoil like fruit, nor are they too scarce or unfamiliar like aluminum. In other words. They are luxury goods that can be distributed throughout all of Europe. They are luxury goods that can make all of England wealthy. And such goods were piled up like a mountain.

“The items here are not all! This time, our brave and bold Englishmen have established more trading posts and have traded for resources from all corners of His Majesty the Emperor’s territory! This is the result!” Raleigh shouted a pre-arranged line.

Amidst everyone’s shock, Elizabeth beckoned to Raleigh. “Baron of Roanoke.” 

“Yes, my Queen.” 

“Come here, my loyal subject.”

After a few ceremonial pleasantries and cheers were exchanged, the two met again in a secret place deep within the palace. “Very… excellent.” The Queen smiled sharply, her wrinkled hand stroking the furs Raleigh had brought as a representative sample. “The quality is very high and the colors are good. They can compete with the Russians’ without issue.”

“That is so. Most of the goods we have brought this time maintain this level of quality. The nobles of all Europe will rush to us like hunting dogs.” 

“What has brought about this result?” 

“…” 

“What has changed the Emperor’s mind? Did the Emperor suddenly find himself in need of more resources? Or is it that the Englishmen’s steady increase in trade has finally borne fruit?” Elizabeth raised a finger and pointed at the furs Raleigh had brought. “The quantity and quality are both markedly different from before. What story is behind this?” 

“…”

For a moment, Raleigh’s mind raced. ‘Diamond, Gold, Ruby, Bronze…’ …How am I supposed to explain this?

“…The Emperor has conquered a territory several times larger than England and has obtained more tribute.” 

“I see. The ironworks must have been a help.” 

“Indeed they were, Your Majesty. Your foresight shines once again in this.”

It was true that they had been a help. It was with the iron from those forges that they had been able to gift various tools to the natives. Watching Elizabeth’s satisfied smile, Raleigh nodded awkwardly. The Queen was probably picturing that mighty Emperor, who was said to have personally defeated the Spanish, taking control of North America. Raleigh, too, briefly pictured Nemo personally butchering his enemies with the ‘weeping saw’… then quickly shook his head to clear the thought. In any case, this was no time for that.

The Queen took Raleigh’s hand and, with a quiet smile, closed the door. “Walt, without your help, it would have been difficult to vex those Spanish things so in the New World. For now, let us enjoy the banquet and unburden our hearts…”

“Your Majesty, I am afraid I must return.” 

“…Hm?”

As a bewildered Elizabeth tilted her head, Raleigh said, “There is an urgent matter. My apologies.”

As Raleigh hastily took his leave, Elizabeth could only stare blankly at his back. For three months, Elizabeth would not know why Raleigh had left England without even seeming to breathe.

“Huff… huff… Your Majesty! Here are the newly arrived furs!” 

“…” 

“R-right now, the items needed in Virginia are… glass beads, steel axes, cats…”

And three months later. Three times the amount of furs from the first time flooded the domestic market. And the nation’s glass artisans and ironworkers began to scream with both joy and agony at the flood of orders. No. All the glass and various sundries in the country were being sucked away toward the New World. It was an amount that the Englishmen on site could never possibly use all by themselves. Elizabeth realized that something strange was happening.