Chapter 152

The rightful King of France and Navarre, a man destined to perish at the hands of an assassin in 1610, still drew breath. Far from dead, he was rebuilding France and restoring the authority of the crown at a pace far exceeding the original timeline.

The catalyst for this historical divergence was undeniable: the New World trade.

The emergence of a massive, lucrative interest held exclusively in the King’s hands had changed everything. With this vast wealth, Henri IV wielded immense financial power, showering his supporters with privileges and swaying public opinion to seize control with ease. It was his greatest stroke of fortune. In 1610, when the fanatical Catholic François Ravaillac had hurled himself at the royal carriage, he was swiftly subdued and executed. Now, the King’s glorious reign was entering its twenty-fifth year.

Yet, within the court of Henri IV, a heavy silence reigned.

Maximilian de Béthune, the Duke of Sully—the man who held the kingdom’s finances in his palm—and the King’s favorite, Hercule de Rohan, Duke of Montbazon, sat in tense anticipation. Even Henri IV himself watched the newcomer with sweating palms.

The man before them possessed a whisper-quiet nickname: la bouche de l’enfer—the Mouth of Hell.

“It has been… a long time,” the envoy rumbled.

His name was Oitotan.

Henri IV forced a smile through the thick atmosphere, spreading his arms in a gesture of welcome. Internally, however, he fumed. Why do they always send the same man as their emissary? What on earth did this person do to earn the Emperor’s favor so completely that he holds such a vital position?

The titles the attendant had announced earlier were equally baffling: Chief of the Chesapeake, Grand Master of the Agricultural Knights, Member of the Council of Six. Henri understood what a chief was, and he had been told that the Council of Six functioned as the head of government, but the name of that order… The Agricultural Knights? Did they actually spend their days tilling fields?

Henri briefly imagined armored knights swinging sickles in a wheat field before blinking the thought away. He needed to focus on what this man intended to do this time.

“We intend,” Oitotan began in his gruff, unrefined English, “to increase the number of open ports.” He nodded as if that explained everything, showing absolutely no desire to improve his English or French. His brazen attitude—the assumption that it was the world’s job to understand him—was almost enough to make the French King feel small.

However, as Oitotan’s words sank in, Henri found it impossible to suppress a creeping smile.

Oitotan gestured for his tribesmen to unfurl a map of North America. He pointed to a single dot far north of the existing Virginia ports. “One in the lands of the Wabanaki Confederacy.”

Then, his finger moved again. “And… one in the Bishopric of Florida.”

“Florida? Did you just say Florida?” Henri IV blinked, wondering if he had misheard.

“Is that not the place where the slave riots occurred?” the King asked.

“Wrong,” Oitotan snorted, his voice brimming with pride. “Not a slave riot. A slave uprising. I led the Knights there myself to aid their rebellion.”

The implication was staggering. The insurrection that had sent shockwaves through the Viceroyalty of New Spain had been orchestrated by them. They had defeated the Spanish suppression force and conquered the territory.

A profound stillness fell over the court. Those who had claimed the ‘Emperor’ was a myth, those who believed the ‘Empire’ was merely a small village or an English vassal, and even those who already believed in the New World’s might—everyone fell silent. None of them had dared to imagine an empire capable of not just resisting the Spanish Empire, but defeating them and seizing their land.

A fleeting sense of awe colored their gazes. Oitotan tilted his chin up, savoring the attention, while Henri IV spoke.

“Very well. Has your master sent you here simply to open new ports? What compensation does he seek?”

“None.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“We came to announce two things,” Oitotan said, holding up two fingers. “First, the establishment of new open ports. And second… that we are succeeding the previous treaties.”

“Succeeding them?”

“Yes. Not in the name of Virginia, but in the name of the Union.”

“A Union? I seem to be surrounded by mysteries today. Tell me, what is this Union?”

At Oitotan’s signal, his men presented a document to the King. As the attendants unfurled it before him, Henri saw the text of a treaty.

“The terms are the same as before,” Oitotan noted. “Except for the increase to three open ports.”

Henri IV scanned the familiar clauses, but his eyes snagged on the very first sentence. He found a phrase that was entirely foreign to him.

“Between the Kingdom of France and the ‘Continental Covenant,’ for the promotion of mutual peace and justice before the name of the Lord… The Continental Covenant? Is this your new national name?”

Those who rule the continent, united by a covenant.

Henri IV’s mind raced through the calculations. Aha, so that is why there is no price for the opening of the ports. They were a federal state formed by a covenant. The ‘Wabanaki Confederacy’ and the ‘Bishopric of Florida’ were undoubtedly member states under their banner. They had to succeed the treaty because the legal entity was no longer ‘Virginia’ but this ‘Continental Covenant.’ And the reason they weren’t asking for compensation was likely because these new member states had demanded the Emperor open trade.

Deducing the situation in the New World from just a few of Oitotan’s sentences, Henri IV grinned and led the envoy to a banquet. The atmosphere was jubilant, fueled by the unexpected gift.

Henri was lost in a happy daydream. A gift without a price. We’ve gained an advantage without lifting a finger. Now, to whom should I grant the royal licenses for these new ports…

The sound of liquid pouring broke his reverie.

Glug, glug, glug.

“Ah… as expected, the vanilla aroma is quite potent,” Oitotan murmured.

Every expression, every posture, and every action of this man captivated the gathered nobles. This time was no different. Or rather, I should say, Oitotan knew exactly how to trigger human curiosity.

“Lord Oitotan?” the King asked. “May I ask the name of that beverage? You mentioned vanilla?”

“This?” Oitotan looked up. “Ah, perhaps the French are unfamiliar. This is [Whiskey].”

It was only then that Henri de Bourbon, King of France and Navarre, realized the trap.

“Whis-key? May I have a… Gack! Hack! My, that is incredibly strong!”

“It is potent,” Oitotan admitted, “but it has a subtle flavor, does it not? Note the vanilla. And the hint of cherry on the finish.”

Oitotan leaned in slightly. “His Majesty the Emperor said he wished to commemorate the friendship with France. Therefore, he has named this whiskey… Bourbon.”

“Please, a sip for me as well!”

“May I request a glass?”

Henri finally understood why the Emperor had sent this man again. He too had his pride, and he could not allow a spirit bearing his own name to go unbought. Soon after Oitotan’s departure, the royal banquet wine, ‘Bourbon,’ began to sell like wildfire.

Gift without a price, my foot.

***

The Knights managed by Oitotan.

The Navy commanded by Vicente.

The Virginia Company run by Raleigh.

The question was how to handle these entities now. In the context of a modern government, the Knights were a combination of the Ministry of Agriculture and the Army. The Navy served as the Coast Guard and the maintenance crew for the multi-level trade system. The Virginia Company handled trade with England and Scotland, distributing profits to the people—effectively acting as the Ministry of Commerce and Welfare—while also recruiting immigrants, making them the Ministry of Immigration.

That was the reality! We hadn’t established a government and then created departments; rather, separate departments had sprung up and operated independently, only to be cobbled together into a government now!

From a modern perspective, it was as if the Department of Agriculture, the Military, and the Department of Health had grown separately and then suddenly combined like a transforming robot to form a government. Given that the Knights had started as a mere agricultural equipment hobbyist group before ballooning into their current form, the sight would be even more bizarre to a person from my time.

Because the government hadn’t been systematically built from the ground up, the growing pains were endless.

“So, you’re saying the Continental Congress must now take over the Knights, the Medical Center, the Navy, and the Virginia Company?” Manteo asked.

“That’s right,” I replied.

“How… exactly?”

Good question. “We’ll have to figure that out as we go.”

Manteo, who had just been elected as the Virginia representative for the Continental Congress, looked like a variety show contestant who had just been forced to down a shot of fermented fish sauce.

On the day the Continental Congress first convened, the ‘civil servants,’ including the Knights, gathered to swear their loyalty to the Union government. It was a spectacular sight, but the sentiment didn’t last long. Manteo was immediately buried under an avalanche of work, and the newly established Congress ground to a halt from sheer exhaustion. I was no different.

The first amendment to the Continental Covenant was quickly drafted: ‘Every nation under the jurisdiction of this Covenant shall dispatch three representatives to serve four-year terms, forming the Continental Congress to create common laws and mediate conflicts.’

We increased the number of representatives from one to three per nation. As the number of members grew from five to fifteen, the backlog of work finally began to clear. Building a nation from scratch was never going to be simple; it was a path paved with trial and error.

I sighed as I trudged out of the building, my mind wandering. Well… at least we finished that today.

A central government finally existed. Before this, I hadn’t truly felt like I was ruling a country. At most, I felt like a local tycoon in a small city of tens of thousands. But things were different now. My influence reached directly into regions I had previously only touched through indirect trade networks.

I had seized control of Eastern North America. In an instant, I had founded a nation several times the size of the Korean Peninsula.

The weight of that realization made my head spin before I snapped back to reality. In the alternate history novels I’d read, it took decades just to conquer Manchuria as Joseon. Yet here I was, having acquired a territory far larger than Manchuria in a heartbeat.

This was the opportunity America had in the original history. Few enemies nearby, the ocean at their doorstep, and fertile land. It was the perfect cradle for a superpower.

Perhaps we can go even further than the United States did.

We started earlier, we have more advanced technology, and we have stronger leadership. Instead of antagonizing the indigenous people, I brought them into the fold, and I nipped the French and other colonial ambitions in the bud.

As I pondered this, a thought I had kept tucked away in the back of my mind began to bloom. Something was truly happening. I had spent so long running just to survive. My charade of being an angel had started out of a desperate fear that the natives or the English would kill me.

The community that started there had now become a great nation encompassing hundreds of thousands, and it was poised to grow even larger.

What lies at the end of this?

Honestly, I had no idea. A typical human life plan rarely spans more than eighty years. How could I possibly map out an immortal life with any accuracy?

I stopped in my tracks and looked up at the sky. What if the population of this country grew from hundreds of thousands to millions, and then tens of millions? What if the trade network reached California and the Arctic, and all the people living there were absorbed into our Covenant?

What would this country look like then? No—what would the world look like?

The reality of it was finally starting to sink in. It felt more visceral now than when I had heard that the histories of England, France, and Spain—places I might never even visit—had been twisted. I was changing history.

But the very next day, a piece of news reached me that shattered my solemn mood.

“Queen Elizabeth has… disappeared?”

“Yes, sir. She vanished suddenly, leaving only a single letter.”

I unfurled the parchment.

—I’m bored, so I’m heading out.

Where?

—I’m going to Ireland. It’ll be helpful for you, too.

All the sentimentality I had felt yesterday died on the spot.