The Great Uprising (2)
If I were to say this myself, some might call me shameless, but I truly pride myself on how hard I have worked.
And we Southern Dixie folks have this beautiful habit: when we see someone working that hard, we don't offer gratitude—we encourage them to keep working until they collapse from exhaustion.
"...Mr. Seuret, what can we do? We've come this far."
"Seuret, couldn't you do it for us?"
"There's no one else but you."
Of course, the root of all this tragedy is that I am simply too young.
When a young man bows and scrapes to his superiors and says only what they want to hear, it’s no wonder they find me so easy to push around.
Thanks to that, I received an earnest request to maintain order in the rear of Georgia, a place destined to become a battlefield.
"Secretary Breckinridge himself said there was no one else fit for the job but you."
"What about Commander Robert Lee?"
"General Robert Lee plans to defend his home state of Virginia. Therefore, you are the only one who can take charge of Georgia."
"Hmm..."
What can a mere colonel do when the President and the Secretary of Defense tell him to jump? I have to ask how high.
"But will I be able to receive proper support?"
"Ah, well... as you know, Sherman of the Union Army is openly targeting Georgia. His goal is clearly Atlanta."
Oh, have I finally awakened my psychic powers? I hadn't even heard the rest of the sentence, yet it was painfully easy to predict what kind of nonsense would come out next.
"So, you... um, I want you to requisition local resources and suppress the uprisings that are popping up sporadically all over Georgia."
"Requisition locally? Haven't most of the able-bodied white men already been conscripted? Surely you aren't asking me to draft planters who are exempt from military service, and you certainly aren't suggesting I draft black men who have never fired a gun..."
"Hmm..."
"Ah, I see. You mean I should use my own slaves as defensive troops."
When you think about it, how useful a chess piece I must be in the eyes of the higher-ups.
I am fiercely loyal, wealthy, capable, and I possess over a thousand black slaves who can be used as infantry.
They are, in fact, the loyal dogs of the South, already proven in actual combat to fight quite well.
Even if I were in their shoes, I’d be desperate to use them.
However, I need to start managing my image for the post-war era, and the Georgia front is a bit too intense.
It’s a front destined to end in an unprecedented, crushing defeat for the South. If I get entangled in this and end up branded as incompetent, what then?
Even if that doesn't happen, I could be suspected of "James Seuret strangely playing into the North's hands once the war broke out."
Diluting such suspicions would require some very delicate work, but...
"The President and the Secretary asked me to please, really, take care of this."
In reality, I had no choice.
"I have no choice, then. However, if my slaves are killed or injured in this defensive battle, I will certainly demand compensation."
"Of course. The Secretary said not to worry about that at all."
I made it clear that I was only following orders from the state.
They say it’s common sense that if you entrust a fish to a cat, it’ll get eaten, but I have to hide the fact that the cat is the culprit until the very end... becoming a patriot is no easy task.
Georgia, outskirts of Atlanta.
Nick had just finished installing explosives on the final bridge support.
The Cypress plantation where he had been was razed to the ground after a tragic accident killed its owner, leaving the fates of the many who worked there unknown.
Nick had become one of those people, and as originally planned, he came to Georgia to begin rear-area disruption operations to help the North occupy the region.
Thanks to the sabotage by the rehabilitation center agents, most of the supply lines heading to Atlanta were already paralyzed.
At this point, his mission was complete.
The rest was work for the 4,000 agents who had left the rehabilitation center; it wasn't his task.
But something was holding him back.
There was intelligence that in the nearby militia prison, there were slaves who had been captured, unrelated to the current uprising.
"...They are just petty thieves. We have no reason to care."
Titus tried to dissuade him, but Nick shook his head.
"No. They aren't just petty thieves. A few days ago, they attempted an armed uprising at a nearby plantation, were captured, and all of them are sentenced to death."
"So what? They’re just failures."
"We must save them because they failed."
Nick's eyes burned once again with his characteristic fanaticism.
"We are the Master's weapon. The role of a weapon isn't just to cut. It includes being a shield. A shield for all those who wish to follow the Master's will."
Since he had already fulfilled his mission, it was time to follow his convictions.
If it were the Master, he surely wouldn't have turned a blind eye to them.
"I'm going alone. You all retreat as scheduled."
That night, Nick infiltrated the militia prison like a ghost.
The crowbar in his hand shattered the locks, and dozens of imprisoned slaves poured out.
"Now! Run to the north!"
But pulling off the escape of dozens of slaves alone was not as easy as it sounded.
Nick, trying to save everyone and make his own escape, eventually ran out of strength and couldn't shake off the militia's pursuit.
"Heh heh! The rat has finally walked into the trap."
Caleb Stone, a notorious captain of the Georgia militia, looked down at Nick with a murderous laugh.
He already knew about that man.
He was a piece of trash who had tortured and killed countless black people under the guise of "corporal punishment."
"You! You were the lackey of that John Brown! Because of you, my plantation was turned into a mess!"
Stone kicked Nick in the abdomen with his military boot.
But no matter how much he was beaten, Nick didn't let out a single groan.
Perhaps annoyed by the lack of reaction, the captain spat on the ground and turned his back.
"Hang this bastard immediately! No, wait... first, make him spill where the others who ran away went."
As Stone signaled his subordinates, they approached with branding irons and whips.
"Don't worry, boy. I'll make sure you can't talk even if you want to."
Crunch!
He gagged Nick with a dirty piece of cloth.
"It wouldn't be fun if you screamed useless things because you couldn't handle the pain, would it?"
As expected, that madman never had any intention of listening to answers in the first place.
He just wanted to enjoy the torture.
The red-hot iron rod approached Nick's eyes.
Nick closed his eyes to endure the pain.
He had finished all his missions and saved thirty lives.
Just as he was steeling his heart, thinking he had no regrets even if he died here, a voice he had wanted so desperately to hear—but should never have been here—echoed from beyond the shadows of the torches.
"You're doing something that looks fun. Won't you let me join in?"
James Seuret, his Master, had come all the way to Georgia, which would soon be the heart of hell.
I clicked my tongue quietly at the horrific sight visible beyond the torches.
Immediately after receiving the dispatch order to Georgia, I had prioritized receiving reports on regions showing signs of unrest to check for potential threats.
Then, hearing there was a prison holding thirty slaves who had attempted a rebellion, I came to check in case any rehabilitation center agents were among them.
Of course, I was certain that none of the elites trained at the center would be foolish enough to get caught like that, but what do you know.
The thirty prisoners were nowhere to be found, and a very familiar "Black Flame Dragon" was tied up like Jesus on a cross.
"...Tell me, Captain."
As I stepped out of the darkness, the human scum preparing the torture jumped in surprise and aimed his gun at me.
"Who are you! Identify yourself!"
I adjusted my peacekeeping colonel uniform and stepped in front of the torchlight.
"I am Colonel James Seuret, Deputy Commander of the Confederate Peacekeeping Forces."
Only then did the militia captain, Caleb Stone, recognize my face and uniform, and he offered a salute with a surprised expression.
"Ah, you must be the Colonel who was appointed today! I didn't expect you to come here on your very first day."
I accepted his greeting vaguely and pointed at the tied-up Nick with my chin.
"I heard thirty rebel slaves were captured. The report must be wrong. Since when did one prisoner multiply into thirty?"
"Ah, that is..."
Stone scratched his head and made an excuse.
"That bastard! That bastard helped all the others escape! So I had just caught him and was about to interrogate him!"
"Interrogate?"
Is it the trend these days to gag someone while interrogating them?
"I learned today for the first time that black people have the talent to confess even while gagged."
"Ah, well... he was just spouting rebellious nonsense, so I gagged him to break his spirit a bit."
"Then, that means you haven't extracted any information yet."
"Yes? Yes, well... that is correct."
As expected. I could tell just how many black people this human scum had "enjoyed" in this manner until now.
This guy even felt honored to meet me, famous as the South's greatest slave master, and was showing familiarity, secretly assuming I was of the same ilk as him.
"To think I'd meet Colonel Seuret in such a shabby place! It's truly an honor! I've heard much of your reputation. As expected, you're a professional, coming here as soon as an incident occurs. If it's you, Colonel, you surely know how to handle a guy like this, right?"
"Of course. It's nice to meet you, Captain. Truly."
I looked around and asked.
"But is this all of your troops?"
"Ah, yes. I sent the rest of them back to chase the escaped slaves. You don't need many troops to catch one rat like this, hahahaha."
It would be normal to leave at least one or two behind, but I could roughly guess why he sent them all away.
He must have done so because that way, he could enjoy his "interrogation" to his heart's content.
I smirked at Nick, who was staring fixedly at me, and said.
"You're lucky."
Captain Stone, thinking I was talking to him, wore a sinister smile and nodded vigorously.
"Ah, does the Colonel have this hobby too? I suppose, sometimes you have to break their spirit like this..."
I ignored his words, stepped slightly to the side, and nodded.
"Since you've shown me your hobby, shall I show you mine in return? My greatest hobby is watching trash fall to ruin."
"...Yes?"
Bang!
As I gave the signal, Ben didn't hesitate for even a second and accurately planted a bullet in Captain Stone's forehead.
"......!"
Thud.
Stone collapsed like a pile of rotten straw without even knowing what had happened to him.
Considering he didn't even feel pain before going, this guy is lucky too.
If you think about what he's done until now, he should have met the same end he dealt to the black people he tortured to be true poetic justice.
Nick stood up, supported by Leo, and bowed his head as if feeling apologetic.
"...Master."
"Risking your life to save thirty souls is a praiseworthy act. But you should take care of your own body, too."
"I am sorry."
"It's fine. It's true you've achieved a feat. How much of the preparation is complete?"
Nick stood up, enduring the pain.
"As far as I know, all the Judges are already at their positions. If you just give the order..."
"Good. Proceed."
Coming here, I had racked my brain, inferring and inferring with all my might.
The only scenario where I wouldn't be called incompetent while causing the Great Uprising of Georgia.
That is to make the situation so serious that it's beyond saving by the time I arrive.
Even if it were Admiral Yi Sun-sin, he would need at least 12 panokseon ships left; if there were no ships to fight with, could he have defeated the Japanese?
The very day I arrived in Georgia to perform my duties as Deputy Commander of the Peacekeeping Forces.
A massive slave rebellion began, one that would burn everything in Georgia on a scale never seen before and never to be seen again.
If you wanted to call me, you should have called me sooner.
What an utterly incompetent government.