Chapter 25

White should have been feeling the greatest joy of his life.

“M-my name is We-wequash… I have a family of four. My tribe is…”

“Go to the western farm for now. They will give you tools to build a house, land, and seeds. Ah, and do not forget to ‘get your needle’.”

“Ah, I understand!”

Thousands of native people were flocking to his territory, the Chesapeake Bay, asking to settle. Even though he could only barely communicate through the members of Manteo’s tribe, it was a fine sight to see so many hands taking potatoes and wheat to start their own farms.

“This way! Like this, point the plow toward the ground!”

“Ah… like this?”

“No! Like this!”

The thousands of people gathered were plowing the fields with over a hundred horses and grazing over two hundred dairy cows. White had never dreamed he would receive such lavish support.

Right now, White was a great lord, ruling over thousands. He should have been overjoyed.

If only…

“…To have succeeded this much, in such a short time? Does this even make sense? Thomas! What did they say?”

“The natives say that the one they call the ‘Great Chief’ ordered their migration here. They say he told them to follow John White and pay him taxes.”

“Is that true?”

“…”

“…”

…if only his superior had not been by his side, he probably could have been happy.

How should I explain this? Has he already found out about ‘Him’? No. Judging by his reaction, he seems to think ‘He’ is some local dignitary.

“…It is true. He has been… helping our settlement a great deal.”

Having quickly made his decision, White nodded and managed to utter a reply. At his words, Raleigh’s eyes lit up again.

“The ‘Great Chief,’ no, the ‘Emperor’ of this region is your ally, you say? Don’t tell me… the Shine Muscat grapes and the aluminum from before were also his? Did you obtain them through trade with him?”

“…”

“Good heavens…!”

Raleigh grinned from ear to ear and bounced on his feet like a child.

“John White! What on earth did you do to get the emperor of this region to help you? To be gifted with so many jewels, precious metals, and even sweet grapes! Did you save his life? Did your daughter marry him? Or did he convert to Christianity—”

“Khoff.”

Did I save His life?

Did He marry my daughter?

Did He ‘convert’ to Christianity?

Can Christ ‘convert’ to Christianity? Or can a mere mortal save the lives of Gabriel and Michael?

Every question was so utterly ridiculous that John White could not suppress a cough. After a long fit of hacking, he finally saw Raleigh’s expression. He was in a state of near ecstasy. And at the same time, he was serious.

“…Tell me. What is the reason? How powerful must his empire be, to command thousands of his subjects to cultivate another’s land? And what is the reason for the master of such an empire to be so merciful to you?”

Oh, my foolish superior, whose eyes have not yet been opened.

He is not an emperor but a chancellor, and the empire He rules covers the entire globe, so why do you ask such a thing?

His mercy extends to all of humanity, so why do you see only His grace toward me? Do you not see it? That these thousands have gathered, believing in His protection?

White swallowed hard. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to confess it all, as if wailing, and he could have talked all day about His boundless mercy. But he did not.

Because He had commanded silence.

Instead, John White said only this.

“He is… simply an endlessly merciful person. That is all.”

“…”

But an explanation was needed.

“And, He reveres God.”

“…What did you say?”

An explanation that was a clever mix of lies and truth, one that would sound plausible even to someone who did not know Nemo’s true identity.

“I do not know the detailed circumstances, but He did not believe in Catholicism. There was not a single missionary to be seen in his ‘empire,’ yet He was already serving the Lord in the proper way.”

“…So, you’re saying He helped a fellow Christian?”

“…Yes.”

“Good heavens… it reminds me of the fools who went searching for Prester John[1] in the East! My God… my God…!”

Walter Raleigh’s eyes glazed over, his hands drumming rapidly on the wooden table. It was as if he were flicking the beads of an abacus, piecing together a shattered bowl, constructing a logic upon White’s words.

“I-it must be, if he spoke English fluently… an Englishman must have come here before us. He must have taught the emperor English and Christianity! Hallelujah! It is nothing short of a miracle! Who was it? A great, unknown missionary? Or sailors who were left behind on a voyage a few years ago? I do not know. It does not matter. It is all the better that he is hostile to Spain and friendly to England!”

“…”

White said nothing. He simply watched in silence as Sir Raleigh wove a plausible web of lies upon a foundation of ignorance.

“Did He have a proper Bible? No, of course not. Of course not. Speaking and knowing the alphabet are two different things, so he would have difficulty reading. Then we must gift Him a Bible. At the same time, if we can baptize Him and preside over a coronation as a subject of the King of England…!”

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves, my lord Raleigh. You must be calm.”

“How can I be calm? In a situation like this!”

The devout Protestant Walter Raleigh’s eyes were filled with hope. And in the eyes of the doubtful atheist, Thomas Harriot, a hint of skepticism could be seen. But what was the same about them both was that, lost in their own thoughts, they did not notice the cold, hardened look in John White’s eyes.

“Ahem, John? Could you, perhaps… arrange a meeting with His Majesty, the Indian Emperor of this place?”

“…I, you say?”

“Yes…! You! My lord, my subject, and my governor, you!”

Raleigh, who had just managed to sit down, shot up again in excitement.

“I have reported your deeds to Her Majesty the Queen in detail. Did you know? Your drawings are selling like hotcakes in England. You’ll be able to make a fortune when you return!”

“…I see.”

“If this meeting goes well, I will bring you a thousand pieces of gold! You will become the true lord of this land! What do you say?”

“…”

“…John? Are you not pleased?”

“On the contrary. I am very pleased. It is just that I can hardly contain my joy…”

“Is that so? Do not worry. Am I not a man who always keeps his word? You will undoubtedly enjoy wealth and glory. So, if I, the ruler of Virginia, could have a chance to meet the emperor…”

“I cannot decide anything.”

“…Is that so?”

“He moves only by His own will.”

John White spoke with more confidence and firmness than ever before. For the power behind him was greater than that of Walter Raleigh, greater than that of the English monarch he served.

“I will ask Him. But do not expect a positive answer to be a certainty.”

“I understand. I only hope that our desire to maintain a friendly relationship is conveyed. Is there an Englishman by His side who can interpret for Him? I would like to send a letter.”

And so, the Nautilus departed and reached Croatoan Island. And two letters came into the hands of ‘Emperor Nemo.’

One was a letter from Sir Walter Raleigh, filled with ornate and ceremonial language. Long passages filled with poetic praise for the great emperor’s wealth, glory, and mercy.

And the other letter was from John White. He had written only a single line.

-‘Whatever happens, I will follow only your decision.’

***

-‘…O, great one, your sacred decision will be the rock upon which all the churches to be newly established in this land will be built. Great one, I see your glorious future. I see a future where all Christians praise your name and name their children after you. Great one, I praise you. Not because you are wealthy, nor because you command many subjects, but because your soul is brilliant and noble. Your soul will now be reborn through the holy baptism…’

Flutter.

I mulled over Walter Raleigh’s flowery letter, turning the pages one by one, before setting it aside. Then I lightly scanned John White’s letter, which took far less time and effort to read.

-‘Whatever happens, I will follow only your decision.’

As I read Raleigh’s flamboyant letter and White’s brief line back and forth… a sigh escaped me.

“Hooooo…”

I found myself clutching my head. It was throbbing, forcing me to bow my head.

I set the letters down and sat in the quiet, empty living room, in silence.

In the end, what was to come had come.

Until now, I had only acted according to the spur of the moment. I saved the English colonists because I was reluctant to let people die. I expanded the vineyard all over the island because I wanted to farm grapes. I shared my surplus grapes with people because I didn’t want to throw away the fruits of my hard labor.

And as a result, I have now become an ‘angel,’ a ‘great chief,’ and now, an ‘Indian Emperor.’

…What’s next?

I am no longer the moron who charged into a group of Spanish soldiers driving an excavator. I know what I am.

I am an Immortal. I do not die. I am the master of a farm where infinite resources flow.

Will I live forever? Probably. I am a ‘miracle’ itself.

In that case, in this era, in the 16th century, where a ‘miracle’ is considered either the work of God or a stratagem of Satan, how can I survive?

For now, I can deceive Walter Raleigh. If I act the part of a somewhat unadorned, comical ‘Indian Emperor’ a few times, he will return, satisfied. And one day, when someone discovers that the ‘Indian Emperor’ does not die, the play is over.

Therefore, deceiving Raleigh and hiding the secret… is a stopgap measure. Not meeting him is also just avoiding the problem. Because the white men will forever covet this land. Therefore, there are no eternal secrets.

Before the hands of the white men truly begin to reach out, I must decide. For my own safety, and…

“Eleanor, Thomas, Manteo, Vicente, John…”

…for the safety of those who follow me.

‘I need England.’

For my daily life to be maintained, this Croatoan colony must be maintained. And Spain will not leave this place, where Englishmen live, alone. Haven’t we already fought once? I still need England as an ally.

‘And I need Raleigh.’

And in England, the one who has been entrusted with the governance of Virginia is Walter Raleigh. If I am not going to kill him, I must win him over.

Yes. I must win him over.

And now, I know myself. I am an Immortal and the master of infinite resources. I already knew very well what a person with such conditions… must do to win over and subdue a person of the 16th century.

-…knock. knock. knock.

“…Is that you, Eleanor?”

“Y-yes! May I come in?”

“No. I will come out.”

Creeeak.

When I opened the front door, Eleanor looked up at me. She looked at me with eyes full of awe and respect, her face flushed with excitement, her pupils trembling with a nervous tension.

“Um, um… my father said he needs more potatoes for the farm management. I was wondering if we could send over some more seed potatoes…”

“…”

“…Is that all right?”

Yes. Walter Raleigh, too, must look at me with these eyes. He, too, must revere me. He, too… must think of me as an ‘angel’.

A piece of the puzzle I had long been putting off in my mind now fit into place.

A key figure in English politics, the Queen’s most beloved lover, the most loved and hated man in London.

I will subdue him. And I will have him.

I will survive. As an angel.