The Invisible Dragon
“Seuret! Seuret!”
“Guardian of the South! Knight of the South! James Seuret!”
The day the North officially declared it would not send troops to the South, the Emergency Committee became an organization with immense power and authority, covering not just Mississippi but almost the entire former Confederate States.
I managed to snag the plausible title of Chief of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, allowing me to wield real power.
“My beloved brothers and sisters of the South. We have recently endured many heartbreaking events. Although we had to choose the sad means of war, I know well that everyone here actually desires peace more than anyone else in their hearts.”
Of course, I knew that until last week—not even last month—everyone gathered here had been shouting “Lincoln Out” and waving Confederate ribbons, but I didn’t even mention that fact. Naturally, the bad ones were all the Fire-Eaters and their ilk, while the Southern citizens were good, innocent people who didn’t sympathize with them. Everyone knew that those who didn’t become “good” were essentially confessing to being in league with the Fire-Eaters.
I emphasized that this committee was absolutely, positively, never a tool for a great purge to seize and wield power.
“If Chairman Parre hadn’t acted swiftly, the one standing here today would not be me, but one of the Northern generals. If that had happened, how many innocent victims would have shed tears of blood? The only thing the Chairman and I desire is to reduce the number of unfair victims by even one.”
“Woooooah!”
“Seuret! Please, save us!”
If my memory serves, in the original history, after Lincoln was assassinated, the North implemented military rule in the South for a staggering ten years. Considering that even in the actual South, many hated the culprits who assassinated Lincoln as idiots, couldn’t one say the South owed me a debt this time, too?
The war, which was supposed to drag on for four years and end in defeat with hundreds of thousands dead, had been neatly shortened to one year. Thanks to that, the lives of hundreds of thousands of soldiers who might have died were saved. It was the same this time. If Lincoln had been killed, they would have faced ten years of Northern rule, but thanks to my efforts, they were granted an indulgence by simply weeding out the radicals. How wonderful is that?
You disagree? Those who don’t agree must be Fire-Eaters, so go to the courthouse and make your excuses in front of the judge.
“I promise you all here today. I will investigate and judge solely based on truth and reason. I will not listen to rumors or slander floating around in the world!”
“Ooooooh!”
“Unless there is clear evidence or corroborating testimony, no one will be unfairly branded a traitor. I, James Seuret, pledge this on the name of Seuret Cotton!”
When such a madness of purges sweeps through, the way to win public sentiment is to gain the enthusiastic support of the vast majority of truly innocent citizens. The absolute majority of citizens, who truly have nothing to do with rebellion or conspiracy, cannot help but feel immense dissatisfaction at having to tremble in anxiety over things that aren’t their fault. And if I give them a sense of relief, their dissatisfaction will soon be directed not at me, but at those I point my blade toward.
“The Chairman and I believe in the nobility of the South. Booth and Representative Albert committed unforgivable sins, but most of the good people living here would not agree with their opinions. Therefore, I have no doubt that this will not be an investigation that strangles us, but one that proves our innocence. The Emergency Committee is not a committee to bind us, but to set us free!”
“Seuret! Seuret!”
“Parre! Parre!”
If there is no evidence that you did anything wrong, you won’t be punished. The countless crowds listening to this speech would think they could actually get through this without incident. But unfortunately, they are wrong.
Politicians are a breed that always has dust if you shake them, and there were not hundreds, but thousands of influential figures in the South currently involved with the Fire-Eaters. When this Pandora’s box opens—a box even the parties involved don’t fully understand—I will faithfully carry out my duties, just as I said. Based on legitimate grounds and rational physical evidence.
“No! How many times do I have to tell you! We didn’t have the slightest intention of killing Lincoln!”
Slamming his fists onto the interrogation room table, Albert Brown shouted in frustration, as if coughing up blood.
“We just... yes! We just wanted to seize the Mississippi legislature and manipulate the bills as we pleased! I’ll admit to the coup, but not the assassination!”
While the stenographer was busily taking down his confession, which couldn’t be heard without tears, I calmly set down my teacup.
“Representative, do you think that makes sense by any common standard?”
“What!”
“On the very day and at the very hour you and your followers decided to launch an armed uprising, Booth’s group in Washington attempted to assassinate the President, Vice President, and Secretary of State simultaneously.”
“......”
“Is this a coincidence?”
“I, it is a coincidence! If it’s not a coincidence, then what is it!”
Right, it is a coincidence. But honestly, who would believe that?
“Yes, yes, it must truly be a coincidence.”
“Se, Seuret... I’m telling you, it’s really not! We...”
“You can make that desperate plea in front of the federal court judge, not me. I don’t know if the judge there will believe you and say, ‘Oh, is that so?’”
“Y, you devilish bastard! This is your doing! It’s you!”
He really has good intuition. How is it that both last time and this time, he pierces the truth so accurately?
Leaving behind the cursed shouting of Albert as he was dragged away, I picked up the next file. The real beginning starts now. Having offered a big shot like Albert as a sacrifice, it was time to pull up the sweet potato vines trailing beneath him. The tips flooding in from all over the South made my work very easy.
“Let’s see... this guy has 1,000 acres of land but donated to the Fire-Eaters, and that guy had 150 slaves and tried to organize a private army after emancipation but failed? Did he look envious of me?”
The criteria were clear.
First, be a rich man with plenty of land to plunder.
Second, be a person from whom dust is guaranteed to come out.
I selected the people who fit the intersection of these two and began the investigation.
“...Are these guys really in their right minds?”
The more I investigated, the more I couldn’t hide my astonishment. There was no need to forcibly fabricate evidence. These crazy bastards had meticulously recorded how they oppressed Black people and what plots they hatched to hinder Northern policies, as if they were desperate to document what great patriots they were.
Honestly, even though the South was messed up, there were too many strange people to the point where I wondered if this made any sense. Or perhaps, while I was looking away, some truly bizarre organization was being formed in the South.
“Wow, I really was saving the South, after all.”
One day, while I was happily beating up the Dixies with the pinnacle of unconsciousness, catching the two rabbits of justice and asset growth, Leo, my chief of staff, knocked on the office door with a strange expression.
“Chairman, you have a visitor.”
“Who? Tell them I don’t meet anyone without an appointment.”
“That is... a man named Nathan Bedford Forrest from Tennessee, and he said he really wants to see you.”
Forrest?
My hand, holding the teacup, hesitated. The eccentric from Tennessee whom Leo and I had talked about a few times before. It had to be the lieutenant colonel who volunteered to recover Georgia, where the slave uprising had occurred.
“Let him in.”
After my permission was granted, a moment later, a man of massive build entered the office. A square jaw and a strong impression. But more noticeable than that was the burdensome gaze he fixed upon me. It was like the look of an apostle gazing at Jesus. Anyone could see that infinite goodwill toward me was embedded in his eyes.
“Nice to meet you. I am James Seuret.”
“I have truly, truly wanted to see you. Colonel Seuret.”
Why is the reaction like this? It wasn’t the first or second time Dixies had liked me, but I didn’t want to receive that goodwill.
“You are too kind. Please, have a seat.”
“Yes, yes. Excuse me.”
Sitting down, Forrest took a sip of tea and stared at me intently for a long time, only letting out exclamations.
“I heard you came because you had business.”
“Ah, yes. Actually, I wanted to visit you sooner, but... it took some time to think about what would be worthy of the Colonel.”
“Worthy?”
“Yes. I will tell you about that in a moment, but first, may I ask a favor of you, despite my shame?”
Forrest pulled a list from his pocket and held it out.
“Among those currently under investigation, I have come to ask for leniency for these people.”
“Who are they?”
“They are members of our club.”
A club? Like the horse racing club Chairman Parre used to run?
Scanning the list, I saw several landowners who owned quite a bit of prime land.
“They have no intention of resisting the North. They are just... patriots who only want the inferior darkies to find their place and the good white people to be protected in this South where order has collapsed.”
“Patriots, you say.”
“That is correct. The situation is so ominous that they seem to have been caught due to a misunderstanding, but if the Colonel would look into them with broad generosity, I will never forget this grace.”
White supremacy. A secret society. And Nathan Bedford Forrest.
No wonder. I had thought there were too many insane people scattered everywhere. As various circumstantial evidence assembled in my head, the puzzle pieces clicked into place in an instant.
I asked, pretending not to know.
“What is the name of that club?”
“The Ku Klux Klan. KKK for short.”
As expected... no wonder it sounded like something I had heard somewhere before. Was this man the head of that trash group? And now, it was naturally understood why this man had wanted to meet me so badly.
“And the real reason I came today is to invite you, Colonel, as our highest executive.”
“...Ah, yes.”
“We are a gathering of chosen, noble white people. And now that laws and systems have collapsed, we have concluded that the only person who truly dominates the Black people and protects the spirit of the South is Colonel Seuret.”
That is a plan so idiotic I have no words. So, this is a scout offer, right? And not just to join, but to become the top leadership of the KKK.
“If it’s the highest executive... is it like an officer?”
“That is correct. I, the current head of the organization, use the title Grand Wizard, and the leaders of each state are called Grand Dragons.”
The KKK I knew was a disastrous terrorist group that shocked the entire nation, but were they originally guys like this? Maybe he’s acting to make fun of me? Listening to a grown adult talk nonsense about Grand Wizards and Dragons, I felt dizzy.
Nevertheless, Forrest continued with a deadly serious expression.
“Originally, we intended to invite you as the seventh Grand Dragon, but there were many opinions that it was too ordinary compared to the Colonel’s achievements.”
“So... you’re saying you’re late because you were agonizing over it?”
“That is correct! Then, I suddenly saw the Colonel’s recent actions, and our opinions finally reached a consensus.”
That is a truly tragic thing. If possible, I wish they had argued until the end without reaching a consensus.
“To save the South, the elusiveness of punishing the Fire-Eaters from behind without anyone knowing and even deceiving the North! That devotion to the South from a place unseen!”
“......”
“That majesty is like an invisible dragon. Therefore, we would like to bestow upon you the title of Invisible Dragon, Colonel.”
...Excuse me? What?
“Are you serious?”
“That is correct! How is it? An existence that no one can see but possesses the most powerful strength! Isn’t it a title that perfectly suits the Colonel!”
Invisible... Transparent Dragon?
I have no intention of joining the KKK, but if I receive such a childish title, I might die of shame before that. But perhaps he mistook my look of absurdity for being moved, as our Grand Wizard, Mr. Forrest, reached out his hand, saying he counted on me.
“Please, accept it. Invisible Dragon!”
I looked at the hand held out in front of me for a moment, then shook it. Fine. I, the super-duper strong Invisible Dragon Seuret, will roar for you. Keep your necks guarded and wait. You dog-like group of middle-school-syndrome patients.