Chapter 102

A simple wooden crucifix hung on the front of the hut. Beneath a tent pitched before it, a crowd of people was buzzing, their collective gaze fixed on the proceedings.

“Anthony Cage! Another one for Anthony Cage! This time… Hugh Taylor!”

As someone pulled slips of paper one by one from a hollowed-out liquor barrel and called out the names, others made tally marks beside them, recording the count.

It was, by all appearances, an unremarkable election. The scale was pitifully small, with only about seventy participants, and those gathered around possessed neither great power nor wealth. Yet they themselves were immersed in the electoral process with the utmost gravity. With every slip of paper drawn, they clenched their fists, offered prayers, and held their breath.

“With fifty-three votes for Anthony Cage, eleven for Edmund Grand, and nine for Hugh Taylor… Anthony, Anthony Cage is, on this day, March 12th, 1603, through legitimate process, elected as the representative of our souls!”

As the results were announced, the winner ascended the dais, raising both arms in triumph. Everyone who had voted greeted him with applause and cheers.

“Does anyone contest these results?”

There was no one.

Once the election was thus confirmed, the winner humbly offered words of consolation to the defeated and began to sing a hymn. Everyone joined him in song.

As mentioned, this was an unremarkable election in Virginia.

But for Elizabeth, watching from a distance, it was anything but.

“Now that Anthony Cage has been elected as the priest and pastor of our church, he will select deacons to assist with his duties within three days. Let us gather again next Sunday, Amen.”

That was it.

In this ‘unremarkable election,’ a ‘priest’ had been chosen.

It was a sight that would undoubtedly make a Catholic foam at the mouth and declare that these heretics must be destroyed; it was a scene that would likewise cause an Anglican to express grave concern, demanding that these radicals be restrained.

Here, however, it was simply daily life.

“Good heavens.”

Elizabeth let out a hollow laugh at the scene before her, then turned away. Her own country had more than enough radicals demanding that pastors be chosen by vote. Virginia had plenty more to see, brimming with things she had never encountered; there was no need to waste more time here. She walked alongside Raleigh, listening to his various explanations.

“Broadly, when those who have sworn fealty to him send gifts.”

“He returns even more gifts? Is that why there are no taxes?”

“Precisely. It is a peculiar system, but it manages to function.”

Elizabeth had already experienced countless wonders as she toured the length and breadth of Chesapeake, a land inhabited by seventy thousand souls. For example, this land had no such thing as taxes paid to the Emperor. There were only ‘gifts.’ The more she learned about this place, the more bizarre it seemed. It was like a fantastical nation lifted from the writings of Thomas More.

The Queen mounted her horse, and from her elevated vantage point, she looked around. To her left, she saw the cluster of green-roofed houses she had already toured.

“It seems I’ve seen just about every facet of how the people live. Is there anything else?”

Elizabeth posed the question to Raleigh, who spurred his horse gently, accelerating past her. Riding ahead, Raleigh called out.

“How about a tour of the farmlands? There are tobacco fields and many other sights!”

“Am I not already growing tobacco in my own garden? Is there nothing else?”

“Are you not curious to see how the potatoes grow?”

“I’ve eaten potatoes every day since I arrived. I hardly need to see them in the ground.”

“Hmm.” Raleigh, riding in the lead, pulled his horse to a stop at a fork in the road, as if pondering which direction to take. The two paused for a moment, lost in thought, until, “Ah! But you have not seen that! If you see it, you might truly faint. I almost did myself.”

“What on earth could be so magnificent as to warrant such a fuss?”

“Less magnificent, Your Majesty, and more bizarre. And less bizarre, perhaps, and more grotesque. It is certainly something you have never seen before.”

Elizabeth merely chuckled at Raleigh’s theatrics.

Of course, the sight of a priest being elected by vote, or the techniques for preserving grapes and lumber, had been novel. But that was all. She had heard of similar, if less radical, things. Whatever it was, on this American soil, there was surely nothing left that could truly shock her,

Vrrrrrrooooooooooom!

…or so she thought.

In that instant, a monster of steel roared past her.

It was something more massive than several oxen combined, towering over her own tall frame. It billowed steam relentlessly as it charged forward, its passing staining the air with thick, black smoke.

At the sight, she was mesmerized, urging her horse closer as if entranced. The animal balked, terrified, but she gripped the reins tightly, forcing it onward.

“Good heavens. W-What in God’s name is that?”

“Be careful, Your Majesty! Get too close and the horse will bolt!”

“Wh-whoa!”

“Whoa! Whoa! Hold the reins tight, Your Majesty!”

“Ah, ah! Steady, now!”

She had nearly been thrown. For a woman nearing seventy, a fall from a horse was no small matter. The Queen frantically clutched her chest, her eyes fixed on the retreating rear of the monster that had just torn past her.

It ripped and tore at the earth with what looked like gluttonous teeth. Its speed wasn’t great, but its sheer size and the deafening roar were more than enough to terrify the horses.

“Are you alright? Whoa, easy. It seems horses newly brought from England are easily startled by ‘that.’”

“That that thing. That chariot of Satan. What is it?”

“Ah, do you not recall your question from before? You asked how we could possibly farm so much land after giving it all away. Who would cultivate these vast fields, you asked, if everyone is a landowner and there are no slaves or tenant farmers.”

Raleigh pointed a finger toward the path the monster had taken.

“That ‘tractor’ is the answer.”

“…”

“A single one of those machines completes the work of tens, even hundreds of men, in a single day.”

T-That bizarre chunk of iron… does the work of hundreds of men?

Is… is that the foundation of Virginia’s agriculture? The driving force that feeds these tens of thousands of settlers, and then sends enough food back to feed thousands, tens of thousands, more in England?

That grotesque monster?

Elizabeth, having dismounted, stared blankly as the tractor passed. The strength drained from her legs, and she sank to the ground. She sat there, stunned, watching uselessly as the tractor continued to plow the field in the distance.

“G-Good heavens.”

“Your Majesty? Are you alright?”

“Ah, yes, I’m fine. J-Just a little startled.”

“Let me help you up.”

As the Queen, with Walter’s help, staggered back to her feet, the tractor had already become a dot on the horizon. Watching it disappear, she asked Raleigh, her voice trembling slightly.

“You do have normal oxen and horses here, don’t you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, we do.”

“They don’t have horns of steel, o-or anything like that?”

“…”

“Never mind. A foolish question. What a preposterous thing to say, as if they were rock-eating beasts from a fable.”

“Ah, that machine does run on coal and water, by the way.”

“…”

“Please, don’t be too alarmed.”

Raleigh said, gently helping the Queen back onto her horse. He smiled softly as he brushed the dirt from her skirt.

“There are countless things still left here that will surely surprise you.”

“Good heavens!”

“Please wait here. I will fetch you a cup of water.”

“Ah, no. That won’t be necessary. I simply… I wish to rest… for a moment.”

The Queen trembled, realizing just how profoundly she’d been shaken.

She remembered when Manteo first entered the court in London, how his eyes had gone wide, staring at the various marvels of her palace. At the time, she had found it amusing. When he’d asked if England’s wonders were truly made by men and not by gods, she had felt a surge of superiority.

Now, now she understood him.

Something like that cannot possibly be forged by human hands.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine how such a machine could be rolling across a land that had no proper palaces or great cities.

“Your Majesty? Are you alright?”

She looked up to find Raleigh gently wiping the cold sweat from her brow. The Queen nodded vaguely and allowed herself to be helped back onto her horse.

“I am fine, but, I must rest for a while.”

“There is a white sand beach nearby. We shall rest there. You have endured much.”

The two walked along the shore for a time. Then, the Queen pointed to the water’s edge.

“Why are there so many broken planks?”

“Pardon?”

At her words, Raleigh walked to the shoreline and scanned the surroundings. Strangely, the beach was littered with a large amount of debris. Perhaps the remnants of a past naval battle, but then the two spotted something specific.

It was a French Royal Flag.

“Was there a shipwreck nearby?” the Queen mused aloud, her curiosity piqued. But when she looked at Raleigh, his expression was anything but curious.

It was grim, as if he was imagining something deeply ominous.

***

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The port-side cannons roared in unison, and the sailors let out a cheer. The targeted enemy ship staggered, turning sharply, revealing its flank once more. The captain didn’t miss the chance and ordered another volley. The Spanish sailors moved with frantic urgency, reloading and firing.

KRA-KOOM!

The cannonball struck the mainmast dead-on, eliciting another roar from the crew. The enemy ship, its mast shattered, lost all ability to move, its will to fight broken. And then,

RUMBLE-CRACK! BOOM!

An explosion erupted from deep within the ship, splitting the hull apart. The sailors aboard the vessel scrambled in chaos before leaping into the sea.

It seemed a cannonball had reached the powder magazine, triggering a secondary explosion.

As the target ship burst apart, everyone, from the sailors to the captain, could only stare in stunned silence at the rising column of fire.

They had just lost the most valuable piece of plunder: the ship itself.

“C-Captain, what do we do?”

“The escort is eliminated. Focus on capturing the other merchant ships. For now, that alone will be a great achievement.”

After plundering the other French merchant ships that had been accompanying it, the vessel returned to the port of San Agustín. The captain went straight to the governor’s office in Santa Elena to file his report. Inside, the office clerks were sorting through documents and talking amongst themselves.

“Is that everything for the report to the colonial government and the Council?”

“Yes. The first phase of the blockade is already in effect, so we will now proceed to the next—“

Screee…

The door slid open, and a pale-faced man in a priest’s frock brushed past them.

“Who was that, wandering in here?”

“Ah, that’s Father Alonso García. He works under Bishop Sebastián. He must be here on diocesan business.”

Alonso carefully filed away their conversation in his mind as he left the governor’s building. He returned to his quarters and waited for nightfall. After midnight, he emerged. Several people followed him in the shadows.

“Father Alonso… I-I’m.”

“Shh. You must trust the people we are meeting here.”

“But, will it be dangerous, on a ship?”

“These days, the expansion into Florida has accelerated. Even if I move you to a safe place, you could be recaptured. It’s faster to escape by sea.”

“Over here.”

A voice from the darkness stopped Alonso and the slave family he was guiding. A small lantern flickered, drawing their gaze.

“Are you Alonso García, the one who contacted the organization?”

“I am. Are you, the ‘Bishop’ of the organization? The one who sends slaves to Virginia?”

“I am. This isn’t a trap, is it?”

“On the Lord’s name, it is not.”

At those words, the man called ‘Bishop’ slowly raised the lantern, revealing himself. His face was covered with a cloth.

“The Lord’s name has become something of a joke these days. It’s hard to trust.”

“…”

“Be warned. We’ll have our people watching you for the next few days.”

At the ‘Bishop’s’ words, Alonso nodded and signaled to the family behind him. They ran quickly toward a warehouse-like building the ‘Bishop’ indicated.

“They will now.”

“Now, they will be hidden among various goods on a ship disguised as a French merchant vessel. Then they will head for Virginia.”

“What did you say? A French merchant ship?”

At the ‘Bishop’s’ words, Alonso remembered the conversation he’d overheard at the governor’s office.

“B-Be careful. They said they are planning a blockade of Virginia. You must not be caught by a Spanish privateer.”

“A Spanish privateer? I thought Spain and France signed a peace treaty?”

“In this vast Atlantic, how can anyone tell if it’s a pirate or a privateer? Besides, they mentioned a ‘next phase’.”

“I understand. I will pass it on. You have done well.”

“Wa-Wait! Your name, at least!”

“Cheyan.”

As the ‘Bishop’ Cheyan gestured, his followers blindfolded Alonso and led him far from the meeting place.

Cheyan himself quietly entered the warehouse the slaves had gone into, then gave instructions to the Spaniards and Africans inside.

“Can you fit one more letter?”

“Of course. The letter is where.”

“Here, I’ll give you paper. Write this down now. This information must be delivered to ‘Him’ directly.”

Cheyan organized the information he had gathered into a detailed letter. That letter was soon loaded onto the ‘French merchant ship’ departing San Agustín, heading out to sea.

And that ship, which appeared to be heading across the Atlantic—

“Turn the ship! We are going to the land of the Nameless One!”

—quietly changed course for Virginia.

And so, a group of freed slaves and a single letter reached Virginia.

Or, to be more precise:

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

“Leave it.”

They reached Kim Lee-sang.