Chapter 103

A long time ago, we planted the seeds of an underground organization deep within Florida.

It began with a few dozen Africans infiltrating, disguised as slaves. Since then, countless more Africans and Europeans have been dispatched to join them, or have been recruited locally from within the territory.

I was recently briefed that numerous ‘parishes’ have been established, and that just as many ‘priests’ and ‘deacons’ have been ‘elected.’ This network, I am told, is now spread throughout every corner of Spanish Florida.

Naturally, given that its primary functions are facilitating the secret escape of slaves and gathering intelligence, it is said to be structured as a cell-based organization, making it incredibly difficult to root out. I have heard they maintain this network by identifying and contacting one another through a complex system of ciphers, secret passwords, and symbols that are all too easy to overlook.

“I was briefed,” “it is said,” “I have heard.”

That’s right. Even I do not know the full extent of this organization.

I am briefed on and confirm only the most critical components. Beyond the occasional reports that filter through and the support I send, the organization itself remains indistinct, its full shape shrouded in shadow. This is the fate of a cell-based network.

Adding to that, it has already been six years since its inception.

This is an organization that has been operating in near-total isolation within enemy territory. Furthermore, most of its members are bound by their status as slaves, living under constant, unfree restraint. For an organization to mature under such conditions… well, while it certainly follows my orders and serves my interests, it is difficult to say it is entirely under my control.

But all things that are not fully controlled possess their own unique explosive potential, their own vitality.

“O Nameless One, this is a report from Florida.”

“Leave it.”

This ‘report’ from my agents infiltrated throughout Florida. Within it, I would find the usual contents: the movements of various Spanish vessels near the Floridian coast, the colonial government’s shifting attitude toward Florida, and the current progress of their expansion efforts. This organization was reaching into the deepest territories, places I could never have touched had I tried to keep it entirely under my thumb.

I broke the seal on the latest report and examined its contents.

As I read, I must simultaneously decipher the codes. This forces me to chew over the contents, sentence by sentence, word by word. With every page I turn, an image of the Florida colony—a place I have never seen—begins to form, as if viewed through a distorted, rippling lens.

Unfortunately, their efforts are proceeding smoothly. The number of new colonists arriving grows by the day, as does the number of slaves being dragged there.

However, in equal measure, our own underground organization is expanding rapidly, so it is not all bad news. I took some comfort in that fact as I turned another page.

And then, my eyes locked onto a single phrase.

“Movements from the Spanish colonial government… regarding Virginia?”

***

The Viceroy of New Spain, Juan de Mendoza y Luna, was a diligent aristocrat.

Now that he had secured the position of Viceroy of New Spain, he knew the move to Viceroy of Peru—the true prize—was all but guaranteed. And once he was in Peru, the silver would simply roll in on its own. That immense wealth would be his ladder to the highest circles of power in the central political arena. This was the calculating ambition that occupied the mind of New Spain’s youngest viceroy.

“An order from the Council of the Indies… to ‘check’ Virginia, is it.”

It was under these circumstances that the order from the Council of the Indies arrived.

To be sure, tucked in the corner was the official royal edict: ‘Capture Queen Elizabeth, who is in exile on Roanoke Island.’ But, every other line of text, all the context surrounding that order, was the Council screaming at him to please, for the love of God, do no such thing.

This meant that even the Council of the Indies, which normally acted as the King’s proxy to keep local viceroys in check, was now frantically resisting.

In time, the Council would surely be purged and replaced with cronies of the Duke of Lerma, the King’s favorite. But until that day, the Council had no choice but to rely on him, the Viceroy. In that instant, all the various checks and yokes placed upon the Viceroy of New Spain were lifted. He knew exactly what he had to do to avoid seeing blood on his own ascent up the ladder.

First, he had to make a show of diligently, properly, and independently executing the King’s command. But at the same time, to avoid being branded as incompetent, he had to secure a real, tangible victory.

Juan de Mendoza began to formulate a plan, one designed, above all, to not stir up any new trouble.

“According to recent reports from exploration teams sent by France and Denmark, this ‘Emperor’s’ territory is vast and wide. However, they also say his actual control over it seems to be weak.”

This meant their defensive and surveillance networks were, by necessity, stretched impossibly thin.

“In that case, we can afford to be more aggressive. That Virginia colony is currently reaping enormous profits by trading with England and France. If we wish to make them wither, we must sever those trade routes.”

No matter how incompetent and irresponsible the current king, no matter how corrupt his favorite duke. The bureaucratic organization that Philip II had spent a lifetime building had not yet crumbled. The sophisticated state system he had forged with blood and sweat was still turning, guiding the Spanish Empire along a rational path.

The Council of the Indies and the Viceroyalty moved as one.

The reason, the resources, and the system of a vast empire interlocked like clockwork. Even if the King’s irrationality loosened the cogs and jammed foreign objects between the gears, the great machine itself would not break. Not yet.

Letters of marque, deliberately crafted to be shoddy and deniable, were issued en masse.

Shipowners who purchased them immediately led their fleets to the Caribbean, the eastern coast of North America, and as far as Greenland and Ireland, and began to plunder English merchant ships.

And, for good measure, the ships of France, with whom they had a peace treaty.

Just like that, the Atlantic trade network of England, Scotland, and France began to fray and collapse.

The young Viceroy of New Spain dispatched his own colonial warships to specific points, especially those near the Virginia coastline.

“Remember this. Their colony is self-sufficient. To pose a credible threat to them.”

“I understand, Your Excellency.”

They sailed with a ‘special objective.’

***

‘Spain initiating widespread attacks and plunder against English and French shipping. Objective: constriction of Virginia trade.’

‘Furthermore, they mentioned a “next step.” Extreme caution advised.’

“…”

The report’s most critical conclusion: ships near Virginia were being attacked, regardless of nationality.

As a result, the number of French merchants coming to Virginia had plummeted.

It was no wonder there had been delays in acquiring materials for the cathedral construction. This letter must have been written weeks ago.

‘Come to think of it, Raleigh mentioned…’

…that he had seen the wreckage of a French ship washed up on the coast. It must have been from a battle nearby.

The French would likely assume it was the work of pirates, but the probability that it was the result of organized Spanish interference was high.

France was a nation at peace with Spain. If France discovered the truth and Henry IV lodged a formal protest, Spain would find it difficult to continue these attacks. But surely, they knew that already?

And besides… what was this “next step” mentioned in the letter…

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Heavy footsteps suddenly pounded outside. I stood just as someone knocked and burst through the door without waiting. It was Manteo.

“This is terrible. News is just now spreading among the merchants at the port.”

“What is it, Manteo?”

“The Spanish are establishing a base on the Core Banks!”

“What? When did you hear this?”

“Just now! A French merchant ship passing the area confirmed seeing the Spanish flag flying over the Core Banks!”

“What’s their strength?”

“They said it was at least 200 men… To be precise, in the direction of Cape Lookout.”

“Contact Vicente. Immediately.”

The Core Banks were less than a hundred kilometers from Croatoan Island.

Two hundred Spaniards were building a base? Could we even stop them at this point?

“What exactly did they see? Did they say how far along the base was, if they were sure they were Spanish?”

“Of course. It looked like they had just begun fortifications, but as for launching an amphibious assault now.”

…It’s too late.

If they had 200 men, we would need to mobilize hundreds of our own. To have an enemy base established this close, and to have learned of it this late… It was because the land had emptied, with all the surrounding tribes wanting to settle near Chesapeake Bay. On top of that, with most of our ships diverted to the gift trade, a gap had opened in our surveillance network.

And they had pushed right through that gap.

“For now, send a ship to the area to confirm. What warships do we have available?”

“The Nautilus is here. Vicente just returned on the Voyager.”

“Then tell Vicente to take the Nautilus and confirm the report. Time is of the essence.”

I scanned the report from Florida again.

-‘Furthermore, they mentioned a “next step.” Extreme caution advised.’

The “next step” had arrived.

I didn’t know their ultimate objective, but a sense of dread refused to leave me.

Trade with England and France was the bridge connecting us to them. Especially with France, with whom we had yet to even establish formal diplomatic relations…

‘Wait.’

“Manteo.”

“Yes?”

“You and Hewitt are taking turns managing the port, correct?”

“Yes, for now, that is the arrangement.”

“Come with me to the port. I need you to gather all the merchants who have come from France. And summon Oitotan as well.”

“What is it?”

I reviewed the reasons why England and Scotland had established relations with us. I thought about the situation Henry IV was in.

“French ships have come here, but none of our ships have ever gone to France.”

“What? Well, yes, of course?” Manteo replied, as if stating the obvious.

I nodded.

“Then, let’s take this opportunity to send one.”

“I beg your pardon?”

This… this might be our chance.

***

Henry IV was beaming. His grand strategy for the New World had been proven correct, and he was in high spirits.

‘There is, without a doubt, a powerful Christian empire across the sea.’

Perhaps Christianity’s history there was not so short. The more he thought about their sophisticated winemaking and preservation techniques, the more certain he became. And considering their desire to import crucifixes and other religious articles? It was clear the ‘Emperor’ was not some radical Protestant.

An empire outside of Europe, with its own long history of Christianity…

“Heh, hehehe.”

“What are you thinking about, Your Majesty?”

“I am thinking happy thoughts, Maximilien.”

Henry IV’s genius brain had quickly deduced that the Emperor, having made contact with Europe, would want to build European-style cathedrals. He had immediately ordered his royal merchants:

‘Add building materials and various ornaments to your manifests! In fact, send nothing but that!’

Click.

“I was just thinking about this,” he said, tapping the strange black-and-white coin.

As a result of his strategy, dozens of Othello chips were piled on his desk. A glass of exquisite wine, traded for those same chips, was in his hand. A flawless, shimmering fur was draped over his shoulders.

It wasn’t even a cold day, but Henry stubbornly wore the fur. It wasn’t for mere show; it was for promotion, just as Elizabeth had once done. By showcasing the wine—dubbed ‘Chesapeake Scoppernong’—at every banquet, it had gained immense popularity in France, earning the nickname ‘The King’s Banquet Wine.’

And that all meant money.

Elizabeth may have made a killing selling Shine Muscat grapes and various other fruits to her nobles, but that was a seasonal business. This wine was different. Its true appeal was that it could be distributed year-round.

The royal merchants Henry IV had dispatched were using his funds to buy up Virginia’s furs and wine, reaping enormous profits. Furthermore, he had used various edicts and laws to levy a hefty ‘voyage tax’ on all ships crossing the Atlantic to Virginia, providing a handsome side income.

Of course, unlike Elizabeth, he didn’t have an exclusive monopoly on the New World’s goods, so there was some leakage in his revenue… but this was more than enough.

He had expended significant resources establishing new supply chains and contracts to ship massive quantities of building materials across the ocean. But that was fine.

The deficit would soon be erased.

That is, as long as some absurd, unforeseen catastrophe—like every single one of his merchant ships being captured by pirates—didn’t occur.

“Hehe, hehehehe.”

“You are in a fine mood, Your Majesty.”

“Of course I am, Maximilien! Our long-standing financial problems are finally on the verge of being resolved!”

Henry IV did not doubt it for a second.

And, several months later.

He lost the world.