The Era of Confrontation
“The era of the tyrant is finally coming to an end! The day of the uprising has been set.”
It was the only way to save the white people of this nation.
The plan to kill the tyrant and realize justice had finally entered its final stage.
“We have obtained information that Lincoln will be attending the latest play, Our American Cousin, which was performed in England.”
It was a fresh, new production, only three years old, depicting the meeting between an American who traveled to England to inherit a fortune and the British aristocracy. It was set to open in Washington D.C., the capital, to commemorate the end of the war.
To deliver the judgment of justice to a president watching a play that celebrated the end of the war—what could be more fitting for the true conclusion of the conflict?
“Then, we should assassinate the Vice President and the Secretary of State at the same time on that day. We need to investigate their movements in advance.”
“I have already taken care of that.”
Carnegie smiled confidently and placed several large stacks of documents on the table.
“These are the official schedules for the President, the Secretary of State, and the Vice President for this month. As you can see, I’ve recorded everything, from their detailed movements to the status of their security details.”
“Ohhhhhh!”
“As expected of Comrade Carnegie!”
Everyone who picked up and examined the documents let out exclamations of awe.
“This is truly incredible.”
It was no empty flattery; the documents Carnegie held were packed with all sorts of information that could only be obtained by an insider. Every hour of the day, where they would be, who they would meet, and even how the security personnel were deployed—every detail was meticulously recorded.
“How did you manage to investigate all of this?”
Despite the achievement that naturally drew admiration, Carnegie merely shrugged his shoulders lightly, maintaining his humility.
“If you feed them enough money, most of these bastards will spill everything. It’s not that I’m great; it’s just that the moral standards of those Northern bastards are that low.”
“Oh….”
“The important part starts here.”
Carnegie picked up one of the thick documents and drew circles with a pen for everyone to see.
“Lincoln will not be under the protection of the Pinkerton Agency on the day he watches the play.”
“Is that true?”
“No Pinkertons?”
“Yes. It seems they judged that since the war is over, they can afford to loosen security. Instead, only one or two regular police officers will be stationed there.”
They had been worried about how to get past the protection of those hired thugs, but it turned out there was no need to worry at all. If this wasn’t a blessing from God, what was?
Booth, unable to hide his excitement, tapped the table rhythmically.
“Then the plan itself becomes much simpler. If I shoot when everyone is laughing and clapping during the play, that will be the end of it.”
“Yes. The gunshot will be buried in the sound of the applause, so you will be able to escape easily.”
“And since you are a popular actor whom everyone knows, Mr. Booth, wouldn’t you have free access to the theater?”
“That’s right! No one will suspect me!”
Once the dam broke, the plan flowed forward rapidly.
“This is the floor plan of the Seward mansion. I’ve marked everything: the entrances, the guard positions, and even Seward’s usual activity routes.”
Powell took the documents, his eyes gleaming.
“With this much….”
“You can do it, right?”
“What about Vice President Andrew Johnson?”
“He is scheduled to stay at the Kirkwood House Hotel that evening. I’ve even secured the room number.”
If it’s a hotel, both infiltration and escape would be easy. Was this the meticulousness of a businessman who had achieved great success at a young age? Booth and all the other comrades looked at Carnegie, shivering with excitement. Meeting this man was surely the guidance of God.
Wasn’t it? Coincidences, when stacked, become destiny, so by this point, it was certain that God had decided to take Lincoln’s life.
“Now, I will explain the escape route. Once the assassination is successful, you will board a carriage I have arranged in advance and head to the station at full speed.”
“You’ve already prepared a carriage?”
“Of course. And from the station, you will take a train and head as far south as possible.”
“Correct. Then, after getting off the train, you will cross into Texas, and then cross the border into Mexico.”
Carnegie’s finger moved across the map without a hitch.
“In Mexico, the people I’ve hired will have a ship ready. You will take that and head to Europe.”
Could a more perfect assassination plan exist in this world?
“With this, failure is impossible, isn’t it?”
“If we fail, that would be the strange part.”
Soon, they would be able to deliver punishment to the tyrant who was trying to ruin this country. Booth, feeling highly inspired, stood up and raised his glass.
“Comrades! Let us steel our hearts once again! To our success!”
“Death to the tyrant!”
Everyone stood up and clinked their glasses.
They wouldn’t be able to operate within the United States anymore after fleeing to Europe, but they weren’t worried about that. Once the tyrant Lincoln was dead, the warriors of justice inspired by them would rise up one after another.
And perhaps by coincidence, or perhaps by the flow of destined fate, at the exact same moment Booth and Carnegie finalized the Lincoln assassination plan, the white supremacist group that hated Black people as much as they wished—the Ku Klux Klan, the KKK—was holding its founding ceremony in a hotel in Tennessee.
It was a dim room, lit only by candlelight.
“Brothers!”
Nathan Bedford Forrest, draped in a white sheet, stood up and spread his arms.
“Today, we have reached a historic moment!”
“Ohhhhh!”
“This is the day our great journey to reclaim the order of the white man begins!”
The war was over, but look at the state of the South now. Black people were deluding themselves into thinking they would soon get the right to vote, grinning and trying to act as if they were equal to white people. Therefore, the KKK must become the savior of the South that corrects this misguided reality.
The expressions of those sitting around the room held not just hatred, but an intense sense of mission.
“But brothers.”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t our titles, as we do such great work, also be special?”
“That is correct!”
For an organization, titles are essential, and these titles determine the standing of the group. John Lester was the first to open the floor.
“Don’t organizations like the Freemasons or the Odd Fellows use cool titles? What do we have to lose to them?”
“That’s right! We need to attach something impressive to ourselves as well.”
“Wasn’t our General Nathan Forrest called the Wizard of the Saddle?”
Wizard. In other words, a Wizard. Wasn’t that the perfect title for the leader of this mysterious organization?
“So, to commemorate this achievement, how about we set the chairman’s title as Grand Imperial Wizard!”
For a moment, the room fell into silence from the shock.
Grand Imperial Wizard?
“…Ohhhhh!”
My goodness. It was just too cool!
“Truly a great title!”
“It’s wonderful! It’s magnificent!”
A great wizard who would lead the United States on the right path. They were convinced there could be no more perfect title.
“Good! Then let’s settle on that!”
The title of the head was decided, so it was the turn of the top executives. Those who had pushed their naming sense to the limit easily reached an agreement this time as well.
“Since our executives play the role of protecting the Grand Wizard, we shall use the title of Grand Dragon!”
“Grand Dragon!”
Indeed, one cannot resist a dragon. To emphasize again, they were very serious.
“And the executive responsible for the House district is Grand Titan!”
“The executive responsible for the county is Grand Giant!”
“The one responsible for the branch is Cyclops!”
Grand Wizard.
Grand Dragon.
Grand Titan.
Grand Giant.
Grand Cyclops.
How could an organization using such magnificent names fail!
“Brothers!”
Their hearts were swelling. Those gathered were so moved that they felt tears might flow.
“For the disenfranchisement of the darkies!”
“Those darkie bastards! If they act up, they die!”
The candlelight flickered in unison. Grand Imperial Wizard Nathan Bedford Forrest and the six Grand Dragons could not stop shivering at the cool names they had created. Truly.
The atmosphere in the South was grim, with some plotting to assassinate the President and others founding organizations to beat down Black people. John D. Rockefeller and the lawyer Owen, who had come down under the pretext of touring the South for business, could not help but admire the consistent charm of the Dixies.
“By the way, Mr. Rockefeller.”
Owen looked at the empty seat next to him in the carriage and smirked.
“Haven’t you always been attached to Mr. Carnegie? Why are you inspecting alone today?”
“When did you say I was always attached to that man?”
At most, they only handled things jointly when Chairman James ordered them to. Rockefeller grumbled and shook his head.
“Carnegie is busy with other important work for the time being. He said it was a task directly ordered by Chairman Seuret.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And honestly….”
It was a relief that Carnegie didn’t come. Rockefeller’s eyes turned cold as he looked at the scenery reflected outside the slowly moving carriage. Three white men were surrounding one Black man at a street corner.
“This darkie bastard dares to glare at a white man?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“What do you mean, sorry!”
Thwack! Thwack!
It was a clear scene where one could tell which side was wielding unreasonable violence without even hearing the full story.
“Get up, you bastard! It’s not over yet!”
Rockefeller, watching the endless kicks, frowned and rolled up the window.
“If Carnegie had seen that, he would have been dying to jump in while cursing his head off. Then things would have become even more troublesome.”
“…That would be so.”
Owen also nodded. Carnegie had a personality that couldn’t stand seeing such scenes. It wasn’t because he had a righteous personality that cared for Black people, but simply because he was a man who couldn’t stand scenes that didn’t please him.
Of course, it wasn’t as if the Black people were just taking it forever. In the distance, the colleagues of the beaten Black man swarmed in and began to rush at the white men.
“Huh? You bastards!”
“Darkie bastards, don’t know your place and trying to climb up? Try dying today!”
Bam! Thwack!
As a group brawl suddenly broke out, Rockefeller stopped the carriage from a distance and quietly watched the scene. Perhaps because they had tasted the flavor of struggle once, it was quite impressive that the Black people were swinging their fists without cowering at the white men’s influence.
“What did we do wrong, you bastards!”
“If you picked the fight first, you should have been prepared to get beaten!”
However, just as the Black people were about to start their counterattack, someone blew a whistle and intervened at the most unfortunate timing.
“It’s the sheriff! The sheriff!”
“Everyone stop! Stop it!”
The sheriffs, who hadn’t been seen anywhere when the Black man was being beaten, intervened and began to break up the fight. Or rather, they began to pretend to break it up.
“Hey, you darkie bastards! Stay still!”
Crack!
A sheriff’s baton struck the Black man’s head.
“Argh!”
“Can’t you be quiet!”
Then, they checked on the white men with the softest voices imaginable.
“Are you surprised? Are you okay?”
“Sheriff! Those darkies attacked us first!”
“I understand, I understand. Just calm down for now.”
The sheriffs patted the backs of the white men and dragged away only the evil Black thugs who had caused the violence.
“Why are you only taking us! Those, those guys hit us first!”
“Hey, you bastards! Everything will come out once we investigate, so follow quietly.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong!”
“I said I understand, I understand. So let’s investigate, shall we?”
The question of why they were only investigating the Black people naturally fell on deaf ears. The sheriffs dragged the Black people away and disappeared from sight. As expected, this was the South he knew. Rockefeller sighed and closed the window. Owen also hardened his expression and sighed, like someone who had seen something disgusting.
“The reason my father hates the Dixies is because of things like that.”
“…….”
“No matter how much the Black people try to struggle, it won’t be easy. Because the laws and systems will treat them thoroughly as second-class citizens.”
Rockefeller nodded silently. If they just openly oppressed them, complaints would burst out, but at least those people pretended to investigate and pretended to hold trials. As long as they imitated legality, the ones who became criminals if they resisted would inevitably be the Black people.
Soon, the carriage began to move again, and Rockefeller and Owen witnessed countless similar scenes on their way to Seuret Cotton.
— No Black People Allowed
— People of Color Refused
— Whites Only
Signs were posted everywhere.
“Our shop does not sell goods to Black people.”
“No, other things are fine, so please just do something about the coffin.”
“Didn’t I tell you? We cannot supply coffins for Black funerals.”
“No! My father has passed away! I’m asking you to sell me a coffin so I can hold a proper funeral! Please!”
“It’s not like it’s decided by law that we have to, is it? Go buy it somewhere else.”
An invincible logic that insisted it wasn’t illegal anyway. Rockefeller, who saw a Black person sobbing in front of a church because they couldn’t even hold a proper funeral, clicked his tongue.
“It truly is a wonderful neighborhood.”
The creativity of the Dixies was developing day by day.