Chapter 16

The new year, 1589.

The few remaining Shine Muscat grapes were beginning to go bad, their preservation period coming to an end. I had to try making something else with them. Wine, perhaps? Ugh, I was sick and tired of the pseudo-wine made from Shine Muscat grapes. Starting next year, ‘Cheongsu[1],’ a Korean grape variety bred for winemaking, would finally be ready.

In any case, everyone was excited, as this was their first new year in the Croatoan colony.

And I…

“Cabbage, lettuce, napa cabbage, corn, potatoes… what else is there? Ah, tomatoes.”

…was compiling a list of ‘Producible Foodstuffs.’

For livestock, we had chickens. Cluck-cluck and Bok-bok had already started a dynasty. The number of hens, in particular, was steadily increasing, and it seemed we would soon be able to distribute them among the villagers.

But my focus for now…

“…is on the crops.”

That’s right. With the colony’s population suddenly swelling to 300, I had to figure out how to feed everyone with agricultural produce. Of course, since most of them were natives, it wasn’t a critical concern. They were people who had always managed to live well in this area, so even if the farming failed, it wouldn’t result in mass starvation. It would only diminish the cohesive force of this colony.

To firmly establish these 300 people here, I needed to meticulously plan the year’s farming schedule, starting now. Considering I would have to devote six months, from the end of the frost season in March until the harvest in September, to the Shine Muscat and other grapes, I had to distribute the labor even more efficiently.

“…First, I need to increase the grape production.”

I had completely forgotten. The fact that wine was an essential item for Europeans, especially for the Christians of this era. We couldn’t keep drinking this… thing that passed for wine, made from Shine Muscat grapes that lacked any proper acidity. It was a good thing I had wine-grape varieties. I had already scouted a location for the new vineyard, so it would be best to start the groundwork there now.

As long as the great enemy of grapes, the plague of viticulture, the bane of grape farmers—the phylloxera mite—was alive somewhere in this land, it would be foolish to plant the Cheongsu cuttings directly. In the end, I had no choice but to plant phylloxera-resistant rootstock and then graft the Cheongsu scions onto them. This, too, would be a long-term project that required time.

And with that, the grape farming plan was settled for now.

Besides grapes, I had a considerable number of other crop varieties, all thanks to my mother, who, unable to get along with the neighbors after our move to the countryside, had devoted herself to her vegetable garden. Thank you, Mother! On Parents’ Day, I will bow three times in the direction of the Korean peninsula!

In any case, the crops that could be cultivated in February and March were, of course, lettuce, cabbage, napa cabbage, tomatoes, potatoes, and so on. Among these, lettuce, napa cabbage, and regular cabbage were particularly important. They required few resources and little labor and could even be double-cropped. There was a reason they were staples of any vegetable garden.

“…I should plant more of the regular cabbage, in particular.”

It would be more advantageous to cultivate vegetables that were more familiar to the European palate. Likewise, I would introduce the still-unfamiliar tomato with caution and focus on growing well-known crops like beets. And so, time would pass, the frost would end, the grape season would begin… and the suffering would start all over again.

This time, I would be harvesting not just Shine Muscats, but a much wider variety of grapes, including Cheongsu and Black Sapphire. If I was going to expand the vineyard as well, I would be very busy. If our available labor force hadn’t increased to 300 people… it would have been hellishly difficult.

“This should be enough.”

1. 1589.With a few clicks, I saved the file ‘1589 Farming Annual Plan.hwp[2]’ and stretched.

This was it. The real beginning.

The first spring I would spend in this place was coming.

…Right. There were a few things I needed to sort out before I started farming.

***

The goldsmith, Mr. William Brown, cheerfully rang the ‘doorbell’ at Sir Nemo’s manor, ready to receive his daily allotment of the New World’s gold, ‘aluminum.’

“Mr. Brown, could you wait just a moment?”

“Ah, of course, Sir Nemo. I can wait as long as you need.”

It was only after a long wait that Sir Nemo finally came out of his house, carrying a bundle of strange and wondrous objects.

…Strange. Usually, he just hands over the aluminum cans and foil.

“Mr. Brown? I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Ah, anything, sir! As long as you don’t cut off my aluminum supply.”

“In any case, do you remember the object we saw the other day, the ‘electronic scale’?”

“Of course! Ever since I saw it, I have been praying to God every day, asking for just one such precise scale for myse—”

“The time has come to use that scale.”

“…Pardon?”

With those words, Sir Nemo inexplicably led Mr. Brown toward the warehouse. When Sir Nemo opened the shutter, also made of aluminum, countless mysterious machines and materials were lined up inside.

“Ah… a breathtaking sight, as always…”

“Mr. Brown, this way, please.”

“Yes, Sir Nemo.”

The two men grabbed another large scale that was there and headed for Mr. Brown’s workshop. Passing villagers, curious about the morning’s commotion, peeked in and offered their greetings, but Mr. Brown simply ran past, his eyebrows fluttering in the wind. Sir Nemo was moving with an unusual sense of urgency today.

‘What could be so important…?’

Thump.

“Is this right…? No, this is right. Still… once it’s done, there’s no use regretting it, so let’s think it over one last time. Is this really right…?”

“What in the world is going on, Sir Nemo?”

William Brown was not so much a devoutly religious man as he was a thoroughly secular one. While most of the English colonists had made the long journey with a Puritan zeal or a desire to make something of their lives, William Brown’s purpose was simple.

Gold. Shiny things.

Therefore, even as the others bowed their heads to Sir Nemo, calling him a great angel, Mr. Brown was still able to treat him with a relative degree of comfort, thinking of him primarily as the provider of aluminum. Earthly treasures were more immediate than faith, after all.

“…Mr. Brown.”

Gulp.

However, just now, Mr. Brown decided to revise that thought.

Somehow… the face of Sir Nemo, who had called him with such a solemn atmosphere, looked holy. A sense of firm resolve settled on his already handsome features, creating an intense charisma.

“Ah… uh… that is…”

“Today, the task I entrust to you, Mr. Brown, is a truly important one for our colony.”

“Yes, Sir Nemo?”

“Of course… it is also a task that holds great significance for me as well. I hope you will give it your utmost effort.”

“Ah, o-of course! If it is important to you, Sir Nemo, I would leap into hell itself!”

As he said this, Mr. Brown was surprised at himself. Was I always such a faithful person? Or, had ‘that scene’ from the battle with the Spanish been that shocking, that impressive? He didn’t know.

In any case, as Mr. Brown beat his chest, steeling his resolve, Nemo smiled, nodded, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Then I shall tell you what you must do.”

“…Yes.”

What came next was quite different from what Mr. Brown had expected.

“First, you must study.”

“Yes, of cours—pardon?”

“Here, look at this scale. What is written on it?”

“…‘g’?”

“Read it as ‘gram’.”

“Gr-gram…”

“One thousand times that is a kilogram. We don’t really use any other units in between. And one-thousandth of it is a milligram.”

“Mi-milligram.”

“From now on, for all matters of weight, I intend to enforce the use of this unit! And only this unit system!”

“…”

“…”

“…P-perhaps.”

“Yes.”

“Is that… the will of the Lord?”

“…”

“…”

“…Uh… yes, that’s about right. It is the will of the Lord.”

“Ah, aaaaaah…!”

“Please create weights based on this unit system. And likewise.”

Rustle. Rustle.

“The volume of this container is called one liter. It is written with a capital ‘L’.”

“Aaaah…! And likewise, we only use milliliters and kiloliters?”

“Well, yes.”

“…”

“I’m counting on you. Please make them as accurately as possible and distribute them. The farming season is approaching.”

“…What does the farming season have to do with th—”

“I want to distribute pesticides, fertilizers, and seeds to the people in the most fair and accurate way possible. That is… uh…”

“…because it is the will of the Lord?”

“…That’s about right. If, through your efforts, Mr. Brown, we can prevent useless disputes and drive out chaos, would that not look beautiful in the eyes of Heaven?”

“…Aaaaaaaah!”

Mr. Brown slowly walked over to his workbench, and the weights that were there…

CLATTER, CLATTER, CLATTER!

…he swept them all onto the floor.

“…Wh-why did you do that?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Mr. Brown, a tear-streaked smile on his face, took Nemo’s hand.

“I have… just cast out the creations of sin.”

“Uh…”

“From now on, I will use not the scales of man, but the scales of the Lord…!”

“Ah… yes, well, using a base-12 system is indeed a sin, but yes. Good luck with your work.”

“Leave it to me…!”

And so, Mr. Brown began his work with a fervor he had never shown before.

“…Was this the right thing to do?”

‘Sir Nemo’ was belatedly overcome with regret. If he had known that a scripture compiling his own sayings was already being written, he would have fainted.

***

The new unit system spread quickly.

“Uh… five li-liters? of pesticide, please!”

Splaaash!

“Next person.”

“The s-seed potatoes… uh… I need about twenty more libras…”

“Drag him away.”

“…Pardon? Ugh, uwaaaak!”

“Next.”

“W-we need about ten pounds…”

“Drag this one away too.”

“Gyaaaaaah!”

It was because the use of liters and grams was strictly enforced when distributing resources in the Croatoan colony. To survive, they had no choice but to get used to the new system. Even those who had grumbled at Mr. Brown’s initial edict quieted down instantly upon hearing it was ‘Nemo’s command.’

A unified system was easier to get used to and more intuitive than one that changed depending on the region and the item being measured. Furthermore, the community was only 300 strong, and unlike units of length, which were often tied to the secular authority of a king’s arm, units of weight and volume were free from such baggage, so there was little resistance.

And so, the ‘heavenly system of measurement’ slowly spread, without distinction, among the Algonquian, the Spanish, and the English. And this system soon came to be used in other areas as well…

“Huff, hah, twenty kilograms of stone, all moved.”

“Hmm… then go and pour it over there.”

RUMBLE!

It was at the construction site of a great tomb. The hundred or so Spanish soldiers who had died in the last battle had originally been hastily buried, but when their comrades showed signs of discomfort, a common cemetery was created. A hundred stone tombs were piled up, and a hundred headstones were erected before them. The names and ranks of the deceased were identified as much as possible through their comrades, and the rest were interred together in a tomb for the unknown.

And so, the opening ceremony of the cemetery next to the church.

“…Do I really have to give the speech, Eleanor?”

“Of course. If not you, Sir Nemo, then who?”

“What do you think about having Mr. Hewitt do it?”

“It would be far better if you did it. If you give the speech, won’t the Spanish also believe that their comrades will go to Heaven?”

“…If that is the reason.”

The two of us, who had been whispering to each other, glanced at the crowd waiting for us. All 300 colonists were in attendance. We could not keep them waiting any longer. I stepped onto the simple podium and raised my head to address them.

Just say some nice things. If this helps the dozens of Spanish to assimilate, good. If it can root out any seeds of conflict, even better.

“Ahem, it seems all the people of our island have gathered here.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

…What should I say next?

I don’t know why everyone just assumed I would deliver a eulogy. I was the only one who didn’t know. If I had known beforehand, I would have prepared something, but right now, my mind is a complete blank. On top of that, the fact that they all think I’m some kind of mysterious being is just making me more nervous, and it’s driving me crazy.

…Hooo, calm down.

“…Whose fault was the last battle?”

Just say some nice things.

“Was it the fault of the Spanish soldiers? Or was it the fault of the Algonquian and the English? Was it the fault of the English authorities who established this colony? Or was it the fault of the Spanish colonial government that decided to attack it?”

“…”

“…”

“It was no one’s fault.”

Actually, it was Spain’s fault. Why send troops to a failed colony for no reason?

Come to think of it, didn’t England build this place to use as a pirate base? So, it’s their fault too.

The only innocent ones here are the natives… Never mind. What’s the point of saying that?

“…That is right. It was no one’s fault.”

We’re all one family now. If I blame anyone, the colony will fall apart.

“The sins and faults of men are far too complex a matter to be dealt with by the whispers of a few. Sometimes, a person is pushed into sin, but often, the one who pushed them had no malicious intent. Let us say there are five people in the path of a stampeding herd of cattle. If you do nothing, the five will die. If you change the direction of the stampede, a person who was on the new path will die. Among these, who is the sinner: the one who, not wanting to kill, did nothing and let the five die, or the one who changed the direction and caused the death of one innocent person? Who has broken the commandment?”⁶

“…”

“…”

“…”

“It is difficult. It is a difficult problem.”

The Trolley Dilemma.

At the question, everyone suddenly began to ponder. Right. It must seem profound.

“Man established kings and laws to regulate the order among men, but they are still too crude to judge all the sins on earth. If even the wisest of men is but a speck of dust compared to the great Lord, how can we possibly fathom all the sins of man?”

“Ah, aaaaaah!”

…Was it really that moving?

Offering a silent thank you to Michael Sandel[3], who introduced me to the Trolley Dilemma, I continued.

“Those who now lie cold in this place died while threatening myself and this colony, but whether they were good or evil is a matter for the Lord to judge. As humans, we cannot know—”

“Sir Nemo!”

“…What is it, Mr. Vicente Gonzales?”

“Did my soldiers go to Heaven?”

Were you even listening properly? I just said humans cannot know.

…I was about to snap back at him, but Vicente’s expression was so earnest that I shut my mouth and quickly improvised.

“I can only say that if they were truly faithful, they will one day head to Heaven. However, they will have to pay for their sins.”

“Th-then…!”

“Yes, those who were truly righteous will be able to go to Heaven after they have paid for their sins.”

“Ah… ahh!”

…Well, this should be enough. Some nice words.

I added a few more things you might hear in church and stepped down from the podium. Repent. Hallelujah. Be kind to your neighbor, honor your parents, and recycle properly… well, and so on.

And when I came down…

“…Sniff, sob. That was truly moving, Sir Nemo.”

Eleanor… came running to me, crying.

What… the?

I still don’t understand the sensibilities of this era.

***

“…Though I am a staunch Calvinist, now that all has been made clear, I have no choice but to admit it.”

At that day’s service, Mr. Hewitt stood before his congregation and began to transcribe the ‘revelation’ of Sir Nemo.

-‘Those who were truly righteous will be able to go to Heaven after they have paid for their sins.

→ There is a place to pay for one’s sins after death.

→ Purgatory, or a similar place not explicitly mentioned in the Bible, exists!

→ The doctrine of ‘Sola scriptura[4]’ must be reconsidered!

“In that case, we must… uh, re-examine how much of the teachings of the great reformers we should accept…”

Mr. Hewitt’s head was spinning.

“We cannot know by human will what is right or what keeps the law? Then… why did we burn the Protestants at the stake…?”

Conversely, Vicente was also reeling from the ‘angel’s’ bombshell statements.

“Then… the angel’s words… do they not mean that we should not kill and be killed over a single, trivial point of doctrine?”

“Aaaah!”

“Ah…!”

And at that single utterance from someone in the crowd, the faint distinctions between Catholic, Lutheran, and Calvinist that had remained in the settlement melted away.

That day, Thomas Hewitt and Vicente Gonzales embraced and wept.

Twenty-nine years before the Thirty Years’ War[5], the great angel Nemo had achieved peace between the old and new faiths.

The man himself was currently opening his last can of Coke and popcorn to watch the Demon Slayer movie… but in any case, it had happened.

Today, too, the Croatoan settlement is peaceful.